his band of outlaws: the debt of gratitude was paid
by frequent inroads in the Roman province of Tre-
bizond; and he seldom returned without an ample
harvest of spoil and of Christian captives. In the
story of his adventures, he was fond of comparing
himself to David, who escaped, by a long exile, the
snares of the wicked. But the royal prophet (he
presumed to add) was content to lurk on the borders
of Judea, to slay an Amalekite, and to threaten, in
his miserable state, the life of the avaricious Nabal.
The excursions of the Comnenian prince had a wider
range; and he had spread over the eastern world the
glory of his name and religion. By a sentence of
the Greek church, the licentious rover had been
separated from the faithful; but even this excom-
munication may prove that he never abjured the pro-
fession of Christianity.
His vigilance had eluded or repelled the open and
secret persecution of the emperor; but he was at
length ensnared by the captivity of his female com-
panion. The governor of Trebizond succeeded in
his attempt to surprise the person of Theodora: the



queen of Jerusalem and her two children were sent

to Constantinople, and their loss embittered the tedious solitude of banishment. The fugitive implored and obtained a final pardon, with leave to throw himself at the feet of his sovereign, who was satisfied with the submission of this haughty spirit. Prostrate on the ground, he deplored with tears and groans the guilt of his past rebellion; nor would he presume to arise, unless some faithful subject would drag him to the foot of the throne, by an iron chain with which he had secretly encircled his neck. This extraordinary penance excited the wonder and pity of the assembly; his sins were forgiven by the church and state; but the just suspicion of Manuel fixed his residence at a distance from the court, at Oenoe, a VOL. VI. N


town of Pontus, surrounded with rich vineyards, and situate on the coast of the Euxine. The death of Manuel, and the disorders of the minority, soon opened the fairest field to his ambition. The emperor was a boy of twelve or fourteen years of age, without vigour, or wisdom, or experience: his mother, the empress Mary, abandoned her person and government to a favourite of the Comnenian name; and his sister, another Mary, whose husband, an Italian, was decorated with the title of Caesar, excited a conspiracy, and at length an insurrection, against her odious stepmother. The provinces were forgotten, the capital was in flames, and a century of peace and order was overthrown in the vice and weakness of a few months. A civil war was kindled in Constantinople; the two factions fought a bloody battle in the square of the palace, and the rebels sustained a regular siege in the cathedral of St. Sophia. The patriarch laboured with honest zeal to heal the wounds of the republic, the most respectable patriots called aloud for a guardian and avenger, and every tongue repeated the praise of the talents and even the virtues of Andronicus. In his retirement, he affected to revolve the solemn duties of his oath: “If the safety or honour of the imperial family be threatened, I will reveal and oppose the mischief to the utmost of my power.” His correspondence with the patriarch and patricians was seasoned with apt quotations from the psalms of David and the epistles of St. Paul; and he patiently waited till he was called to her deliverance by the voice of his country. In his march from Oenoe to Constantinople, his slender train insensibly swelled to a crowd and an army; his professions of religion and loyalty were mistaken for the language of his heart; and the simplicity of a foreign dress, which showed to advantage his majestic stature, displayed a lively image of his poverty and exile. All opposition sunk before him; he reached the straits of the CHAP. Thracian Bosphorus; the Byzantine navy sailed from * the harbour to receive and transport the saviour of the empire: the torrent was loud and irresistible, and the insects who had basked in the sunshine of royal favour disappeared at the blast of the storm. It was the first care of Andronicus to occupy the palace, to salute the emperor, to confine his mother, to punish her minister, and to restore the public order and tranquillity. He then visited the sepulchre of Manuel: the spectators were ordered to stand aloof, but as he bowed in the attitude of prayer, they heard, or thought they heard, a murmur of triumph and revenge: “I no longer fear thee, my old enemy, who hast driven me a vagabond to every climate of the earth. Thou art safely deposited under a sevenfold dome, from whence thou canst never arise till the signal of the last trumpet. It is now my turn, and speedily will I trample on thy ashes and thy posterity.” From his subsequent tyranny we may impute such feelings to the man and the moment: but it is not extremely probable that he gave an articulate sound to his secret thoughts. In the first months of his administration, his designs were veiled by a fair semblance of hypocrisy, which could delude only the eyes of the multitude: the coronation of Alexius was performed with due solemnity, and his perfidious guardian, holding in his hands the body and blood of Christ, most fervently declared, that he lived, and was ready to die, for the service of his beloved pupil. But his numerous adherents were instructed to maintain, that the sinking empire must perish in the hands of a child, that the Romans could only be saved by a veteran prince, bold in arms, skilful in policy, and taught to reign by the long experience of fortune and mankind; and that it was the duty of every citizen to force the reluctant modesty of Andronicus to undertake the burthen of


cus I.
A. D. 1183,

the public care. The young emperor was himself
constrained to join his voice to the general acclama-
tion, and to solicit the association of a colleague, who
instantly degraded him from the supreme rank, se-
cluded his person, and verified the rash declaration
of the patriarch, that Alexius might be considered
as dead, so soon as he was committed to the custody
of his guardian. But his death was preceded by the
imprisonment and execution of his mother. After
blackening her reputation, and inflaming against her
the passions of the multitude, the tyrant accused and
tried the empress for a treasonable correspondence
with the king of Hungary. His own son, a youth
of honour and humanity, avowed his abhorrence of
this flagitious act, and three of the judges had the
merit of preferring their conscience to their safety;
but the obsequious tribunal, without requiring any
proof, or hearing any defence, condemned the widow
of Manuel; and her unfortunate son subscribed the
sentence of her death. Maria was strangled, her corpse
was buried in the sea, and her memory was wounded
by the insult most offensive to female vanity, a false
and ugly representation of her beauteous form. The
fate of her son was not long deferred: he was strangled
with a bow-string, and the tyrant, insensible to pity
or remorse, after surveying the body of the innocent
youth, struck it rudely with his foot: “Thy father,”
he cried, “was a knave, thy mother a whore, and
thyself a fool!”
The Roman sceptre, the reward of his crimes, was
held by Andronicus about three years and a half as
the guardian or sovereign of the empire. His go-

vernment exhibited a singular contrast of vice and

virtue. When he listened to his passions, he was the scourge, when he consulted his reason, the father, of his people. In the exercise of private justice, he was equitable and rigorous: a shameful and pernicious venality was abolished, and the offices were filled with the most deserving candidates by a prince who had sense to choose, and severity to punish. He prohibited the inhuman practice of pillaging the goods and persons of shipwrecked mariners; the provinces, so long the objects of oppression or neglect, revived in prosperity and plenty; and millions applauded the distant blessings of his reign, while he was cursed by the witnesses of his daily cruelties. The ancient proverb, That blood-thirsty is the man who returns from banishment to power, had been applied with too much truth to Marius and Tiberius; and was now verified for the third time in the life of Andronicus. His memory was stored with a black list of the enemies and rivals, who had traduced his merit, opposed his greatness, or insulted his misfortunes: and the only comfort of his exile was the sacred hope and promise of revenge. The necessary extinction of the young emperor and his mother imposed the fatal obligation of extirpating the friends who hated, and might punish, the assassin; and the repetition of murder rendered him less willing, and less able, to forgive. A horrid narrative of the victims whom he sacrificed by poison or the sword, by the sea or the flames, would be less expressive of his


cruelty than the appellation of the halcyon days,

which was applied to a rare and bloodless week of repose: the tyrant strove to transfer, on the laws and the judges, some portion of his guilt; but the mask was fallen, and his subjects could no longer mistake the true author of their calamities. The noblest of the Greeks, more especially those who, by descent or alliance, might dispute the Comnenian inheritance, escaped from the monster's den: Nice or Prusa, Sicily or Cyprus, were their places of refuge; and as their flight was already criminal, they aggravated their offence by an open revolt, and the imperial title. Yet

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