ed and bound by the
strength of multitudes. The glory of this illustrious prize was disputed
by a slave and a soldier; a slave who had seen him on the throne of
Constantinople, and a soldier whose extreme deformity had been excused
on the promise of some signal service. Despoiled of his arms, his
jewels, and his purple, Romanus spent a dreary and perilous night on the
field of battle, amidst a disorderly crowd of the meaner Barbarians. In
the morning the royal captive was presented to Alp Arslan, who doubted
of his fortune, till the identity of the person was ascertained by
the report of his ambassadors, and by the more pathetic evidence of
Basilacius, who embraced with tears the feet of his unhappy sovereign.
The successor of Constantine, in a plebeian habit, was led into the
Turkish divan, and commanded to kiss the ground before the lord of Asia.
He reluctantly obeyed; and Alp Arslan, starting from his throne, is said
to have planted his foot on the neck of the Roman emperor. But the fact
is doubtful; and if, in this moment of insolence, the sultan complied
with the national custom, the rest of his conduct has extorted the
praise of his bigoted foes, and may afford a lesson to the most
civilized ages. He instantly raised the royal captive from the ground;
and thrice clasping his hand with tender sympathy, assured him, that his
life and dignity should be inviolate in the hands of a prince who had
learned to respect the majesty of his equals and the vicissitudes of
fortune. From the divan, Romanus was conducted to an adjacent tent,
where he was served with pomp and reverence by the officers of the
sultan, who, twice each day, seated him in the place of honor at his own
table. In a free and familiar conversation of eight days, not a word,
not a look, of insult escaped from the conqueror; but he severely
censured the unworthy subjects who had deserted their valiant prince in
the hour of danger, and gently admonished his antagonist of some
errors which he had committed in the management of the war. In the
preliminaries of negotiation, Alp Arslan asked him what treatment he
expected to receive, and the calm indifference of the emperor displays
the freedom of his mind. "If you are cruel," said he, "you will take my
life; if you listen to pride, you will drag me at your chariot-wheels;
if you consult your interest, you will accept a ransom, and restore me
to my country." "And what," continued the sultan, "would have been your