While Baldwin was flying from the palace to the port, behind him and
around him was the tramp of the rude Coman barbarians, proclaiming
that the city was taken. The houses, hastily thrown open as the first
streaks of the summer day lit up the sky, resounded with the
acclamations of those, yesterday his own subjects, who welcomed the
new-comers with cries of "Long live Michael the Emperor of the
Romans!" The house of Courtenay had played its last card and lost the
game. Pity that it was thrown away by so poor a player.

It matters little about the end of Baldwin. He got safely to Euboea,
thence to Rome, and lived twelve or thirteen years longer in
obscurity. When he died, his only son, Philip, assumed the empty title
of emperor of Constantinople, which, Gibbon says, "too bulky and
sonorous for a private name, modestly expired in silence and
oblivion." It took, however, a long time to expire. Two hundred and
fifty years later one of its last holders was the inheritor of so many
shadowy claims that his very name in history is blurred by them. René
of Anjou gave himself, among other titles, that of emperor of
Constantinople.

Constantinople was taken, and the Latin Empire destroyed at a blow.
There were, however, still remaining the Venetian merchants, who had
the command of the port, and who might, by holding out until the
return of the ships from Daphnusia, undo all. Alexius set fire to
their houses, but was careful to leave their communications with the
vessels unmolested. They had therefore nothing left but to secure the
safety of their wives, families, and movable property, which they did
by embarking them on board the ships. And when the Daphnusian
expedition returned, they found, to their surprise, that the Greeks
held the whole city except a small portion near the port, and had