"In the close of evening the barons checked their troops and fortified their stations; they were awed by the extent and populousness of the capital, which might yet require the labor of a month, if the churches and palaces were conscious of their internal strength. But in the morning a suppliant procession, with crosses and images, announced the submission of the Greeks, and deprecated the wrath of the conquerors: the usurper escaped through the golden gate; the palaces of Blachernæ and Boucoleon were occupied by the Count of Flanders and the Marquis of Montferrat; and the Empire, which still bore the name of Constantine and the title of Roman, was subverted by the arms of the Latin pilgrims." The anxieties and cares of the conquerors were by no means ended by victory. They had overcome the strongest {62} fortress in existence, and were in possession of a city whose vast size and inconceivable wealth (as yet but half known to them) impressed them with their responsibilities, and foreshadowed difficulties which must be met with the greatest prudence. The Greeks were a degenerate and effeminate people, demoralized by bad government and pleasure-seeking. In the language of an old historian, they "cheated time and offended Nature, by rearing flowers in winter, and culling in spring the fruits of autumn." Dandolo and the barons perceived that this people must be protected; and how to do this before the whirlwind of profligacy and avarice which was sure to follow, was a grave question. "The Marquis of Monteferrato was the model of virtue; the Count of Flanders, the mirror of chastity;" and they, as well as Dandolo, endeavored to avert the terrors of pillage and rapine. A proclamation was issued in their name, commanding that the helpless and innocent should be spared; and the Count of St. Pol hanged one of his knights, who offered abuse to a woman, with his shield and coat-of-arms about his neck, as a warning that the leaders must be obeyed. But avarice was not checked. The imperial treasury and the arsenal were guarded, and the rest of the city was given up to plunder. Under the penalties of perjury, excommunication, and death, the whole body of Crusaders and Venetians were bound to deposit all their plunder, of whatever sort, in three churches selected for the purpose. In spite of all these precautions and the severe punishment of the disobedient, Gibbon says that the plunder which was secreted exceeded in value that which was exposed and divided according to the agreement previously made. This may easily have been true of the rare precious gems and small articles of inestimable value which existed in Constantinople, but that which was divided far exceeded any anticipations which had been indulged by the leaders. {63}