Fox News wants you to know the other side of the story.  What seems to be a British scandal about a certain Corporation’s hacking phones and bribing policemen IS actually an attack on the First Amendment.  If you attempted to tell the Fox pundits that the British don’t have that First Amendment, they would claim that the attack must have succeeded.

But why wasn’t that Amendment in the Magna Carta?  I imagine that there was some discussion…

John:  Freedom of the Press?  I don’t care how the serfs stomp grapes.  Besides, Portuguese and French feet taste better than English ones.

Sir Rupert de Merdouche:  Na, yar iness.  I mayn tha writtin pross.

John:  Do you have a speech impediment?

Rupert:  Waaaalll…I wouldn’t drop the accent just for anyone but in this case…You know I own the largest syndicate of town criers, and we have always supported you.

John:  Yes. You actually convinced the public that Richard was a draft-dodger during the Crusades.  Why didn’t you just publicize that he was a sissy?

Rupert:  Because it would have been true.  Where’s the challenge in that?  In any case, here is how you can thank me.  I want to buy all the monasteries in England, so I can control the market in illuminated manuscripts.  And with this new Chinese printing press, I can outsource most of the monks.  Of course, you can count on our continued editorial support.  In the next edition of the Gospels, Jesus will personally endorse you.

John:  It is tempting, but some of your publications have been controversial.  Carnal Acts of the Apostles?  And you know the complaints about the page 3 topless women in the breviaries?

Rupert:  Your mother never looked better.

John:  Well, I did warn her about crossing you.

About this Amendment, I have a better idea.  What if I say nothing.  That way you’ll have no restraints at all.  You can drill peepholes in latrines, hide scribes in confessionals, whatever’s the limit of your conscience or imagination.

Rupert:  So this is more than just freedom of the press.

John:  It is freedom from responsibility.

CME shuts down iconic pork belly futures market

Speaking of dogma, let’s not forget the historic significance of this day:  https://finermanworks.com/your_rda_of_irony/2009/07/16/divorce-italian-style/

Musing I:  For some reason, Fox News is not covering the News Corp. scandal.  Apparently, this is a more pressing story.

Does Gay History Belong in U.S. Classrooms?

Of course not, because we need the time to study ancient Greece and Rome.

Musing II:  Remarkable Contortionist Dies

Body found at SoCal mansion may be suicide

AP

SAN DIEGO — The girlfriend of a
pharmaceutical company executive was found dead at a historic California
mansion, her nude body hanging from a rope on a second-floor balcony with her
hands tied behind her back and her feet bound.

Investigators have not ruled out suicide.

Pending certain tests–such as the check clearing–police investigators are also postulating that the alleged corpse may have died of frostbite.

Musing III:  The latest version of “The Three Musketeers”

http://www.imdb.com/video/imdb/vi1451924505/

To summarize this effort, Cardinal Richelieu has a German accent and is allied to the Duke of Buckingham, who evidently has invented the dirigible two centuries sooner than history realized.  And Lady DeWinter is a Ninja.

I am sure that Dumas would have thought of it, too–if he had to write a new version of the novel every ten years.

Murdochs defy parliament in phone hack inquiry

By AP

LONDON — Media titan Rupert Murdoch
and his son James defied the British Parliament Thursday and refused to appear
next week before a committee investigating phone hacking and bribery by
employees of their newspapers.

The committee said it had issued summonses to the Murdochs, setting up an
extraordinary confrontation between one of Britain’s most powerful men and a
Parliament once seen as easily bent to his will.

The Murdochs’ refusal was a dramatic snub of a body that forced them to
abandon their ambitions of purchasing highly profitable network British Sky
Broadcasting Wednesday after lawmakers from all parties united to demand that
Murdoch’s News Corp. withdraw its bid after a string of unsavory revelations
about phone hacking and bribery by its reporters.

The Murdochs’ flouting of Parliament may also allow them to delay potentially
uncomfortable public appearances until the furor over the scandal has
cooled.

It is highly unusual for witnesses to refuse to appear before parliamentary
committees, which quiz everyone from business leaders to prime ministers on a
wide range of issues.

Defiance of a parliamentary summons is illegal, and can in theory be punished
with a fine or jail time. In practice, such measures have been all but unknown
in modern times; the House of Commons last punished a non-member in 1957.

Lawyers for Rupert Murdoch offered several explanations for his refusal.

First, being Australian and American, he is unfamiliar with the English language.  Reporters–the few unworthy to work for Murdoch–mentioned that he had graduated from Oxford University.  The lawyer replied that there was no proof that Mr. Murdoch might have learned the language there.  As further evidence, there was a reference to George W. Bush’s degrees from Yale and Harvard.

Second, Mr. Murdoch has nude photographs of all the members of Parliament.  Should Mr. Murdoch be further annoyed, his newspapers will publish the “National Endowment.”

Subsequently, when asked if the nude photos were illegally obtained, the Murdoch lawyers assured the public that the pictures of the Conservatives were all voluntarily donated.

p.s.  And let’s not forget the historic significance (and middle-class vindication) of this day:  https://finermanworks.com/your_rda_of_irony/2010/07/14/bastille-day-3/

The day was either July 1st or July 12th.  The battle would determine that.  On the northern bank of the River Boyne were the adherents of William of Orange, Parliamentary rule, and the Julian Calendar.  Across the river stood the defenders of James II, absolute rule and the Gregorian Calendar.  (Both armies acknowledged that the year was 1690.)  Yes, there would seem a logical inconsistency on each side.  William’s army fought for modern government and a medieval calendar, while James’ army fought for medieval rule and a modern calendar.  Of course, any logic was irrelevant because this was a matter of religion.

English Protestants would not acknowledge the more accurate Gregorian Calendar because the calendar had been sponsored by the Catholic Church.  Protestants do have feelings (whether John Calvin approved or not), and Gregorian was not exactly an ecumenical name for a calendar. It referred to Pope Gregory XIII who reigned at the time of the calendar’s introduction in 1582 and had been unquestionably enthusiastic about killing Protestants.  (He congratulated the French for the St. Bartholomew’s Massacre.)  So the English Protestants rejected the “Papist” calendar, preferring to be wrong than admitting a Catholic was right.

In fact, the whole point of ousting James II from the British throne was the fact that he was a Catholic.  Worse, he was a convert–and you know how dogmatically irritating they can be. Ironically, James should have converted to Judaism.  First, the Protestants would have slightly preferred it.  More significantly, despite being tall and attractive James was the quintessentence of a schlemiel.  The man  just had a talent for doing everything wrong.  James might find a needle in a haystack but get tetanus from it.

Being the legitimate Stuart heir to Charles II, James had been endured by Parliament so long as he would be succeeded by his Protestant daughter Mary.  While his brother Charles adroitly negotiated and manipulated–his charm was not solely confined to venereal pursuits–the clumsy, prickly James II managed to offend and exasperate. Personality does have its role in history.  On paper, his domestic policies encouraging religious tolerance seem reasonable and just.  Trust James, however, to make look everything look like a Jesuit conspiracy. His pro-French foreign policy, at a time when Louis XIV was beginning his wars of expansion, was remarkably short-sighted and irrational. Of course, the biased Protestants regarded it as further evidence of a Catholic conspiracy. In reality, it was a case of personal virtue being a political disaster. James was grateful to France for providing sanctuary during the Protectorate, and he was Louis’ cousin.

In 1688, James was 54; Parliament was hoping that he would act his age and die.  Charles II had died at 54, James I at 58; yes, Charles I had assistance.  But the ever maladroit James was anything but withering.  On the contrary, he fathered a son and a political crisis.  The infant Prince was Catholic and primogeniture gave him precedence over his adult Protestant sisters.  Parliament might tolerate James as a Catholic aberration but not as the founder of a Catholic dynasty.  If Parliament could execute a king, it could certainly fire one.  James was to be ousted; in his place, Parliament invited his impeccably Protestant daughter Mary and her reassuringly Calvinist husband William of Orange to take the throne.

William and Mary arrived in England with the invitation, but they were cautious enough to bring along a number of Dutch regiments.  Mr. and Mrs. Orange may have been popular in Parliament, but the loyalty of the English army was in question.  Some regiments supported the migrant monarchs, but James still had the loyalty of at least half of the English army.  He had a good chance to defeating the rebellion; of course, that would have required James to make a correct decision.  His strategy was to flee the country.  The man apparently enjoyed exile in France.

Having abandoned his English forces, his loyal subjects in Scotland, and a good chance of retaining  his throne, it finally occurred to James that he might have made a mistake.  In 1689, James landed in Ireland and attempted to establish himself as the king of the island.  He certainly was the popular choice among the Catholic majority; if rosary beads could be used as cannon balls, James would have triumphed over the British army sent to crush him.

Unfortunately, James had the smaller army and most of his men were Irish enthusiasts rather than professionals.  Facing a larger and throughly professional force, James showed an unprecedented prudence and retreated behind the River Boyne.  His defensive position was excellent.  The Boyne was very difficult to cross, and James’ army was dug in behind one of the few passable stretches of the river.  Even there, William’s force would be wading through chest-high water and a rapid current.  Nor could James’ position be easily outflanked.  The nearest ford was six miles to the west, but along it was a thick bog that would have stymied any British troops trying to move around James’ army.

Given James’ excellent position, you have to wonder how he would ruin it.  Although paranoia had yet to be diagnosed, James was a pioneer practitioner.  He was convinced that William’s forces were going to cross the western ford, find some way through the bog and attack him.  So he divided his force, leading two-thirds of it to the bog to await William’s assault.  That left one third of his army to face the full frontal assault of William’s forces.  The British attack was not a quiet affair; James could hear it from his position along the bog.  However, he was convinced that it was just a diversion.  He would not send any reinforcements to his forces along the Boyne.

So two-thirds of James’ troops had a very restful day.  For his men along the Boyne, it was much more exciting, being outnumbered four to one.    Yet, their defensive position was so good that they only gradually gave ground and then succeeded in an orderly retreat.  James also made an orderly retreat–to France.  Even without a worthy leader, his army would continue to fight on for another year.  At least the Irish had still  a hatred of England to inspire them, and the English would certainly justify that.

So, the battle of the Boyne was fought on July 1, according to the victorious Julian calendar.  (In 1752, the English finally put science ahead of dogma and adopted the Gregorian Calendar.)

p.s.  If you don’t wish to offer your congratulations to William of Orange, today is also my wedding anniversary.  So you can offer your condolences to either James II or my wife Karen.

I wanted to write about the Fourth Crusade.  I just didn’t realize how much I had to say.  Well, if you were looking for some summer reading, here it is.    If it is any relief to you, I have almost exhausted myself on the Byzantine Empire.  Almost….

And to save your eyesight, I am using a more generous font.

History is replete with villains.  Indeed, but for their capers and crimes, history might be little more than statistics.  But the evil genius, although a staple of Hollywood, is actually rare.  Who had that diabolical brilliance to ensnare, manipulate and destroy his way to triumph?  Many thought that they did–and history records all the failed efforts.  During the Peloponnesian War Alcibiades managed to betray both Athens and Sparta as well as some neutral countries, and yet he was smugly certain that he would always maneuver his way to power and adoration;  two countries claim credit for his assassination.  For a more recent example, take a look at Berlin in 1945; the Thousand Year Reich lasted about as long as a production of the Ring Cycle.  Evil geniuses do not make mistakes, especially suicidal ones.

So, who are indisputable examples of evil genius?  If you have not immediately thought of Otto von Bismarck, you just aren’t trying.  Then there is Vladimir Lenin: visionary, ruthless, and  a brilliant improviser.  Who else would have conned Imperial Germany into subsidizing the Bolshevik Revolution?  (Yes, Stalin and Mao were evil and cunning, too; but Lenin also had the unique distinction of being sane.)  I think that Alexander Hamilton belongs on this list; so did everyone who knew him.

But these are familiar fiends.  I want to introduce you to such an extraordinary monster that he seems like an outtake from “Dr. Who”:  an elderly, blind invalid animated by greed and warped patriotism.  I have just described Enrico Dandolo, the most infamous and successful doge in the history of Venice.    Dandolo (c. 1110-1205) achieved his greatest triumphs in statecraft and perfidy when he was in his 90s.  He would make Venice the mistress of the Mediterranean, creating a commercial empire that would last three centuries.  His triumphs turned out to be a catastrophe for Western Civilization,  but foresight is not a real concern for a blind nonagenarian.

Even in the 12th century, Dandolo was an old family name in Venetian society; and Enrico had a distinguished career as a diplomat.  When he became Doge in 1193, it might have been regarded as the Republic’s retirement gift.  But he was not the retiring type; and neither was Venice.  The city state was thriving, its ships transporting Crusaders to the Middle East and importing oriental luxuries to Europe.  This trade was not quite duplicitous because the chivalrous Christians were slaughtering the Moslems of Syria and the Holy Land, but not the Venetians’ commercial partners in Egypt.  However, the Fourth Crusade was planned as an attack on Egypt, and Venice found herself in a bind: how could it protect Egypt while transporting an invading army?    A lesser man might have been stymied and perhaps succumb to ethics; the Doge had no such problems.  In 1201, Venice and the Crusaders reached a binding agreement; however, the Crusaders couldn’t have imagined how binding it would be.

Venice agreed to transport 13,500 knights and squires, their horses, along with 20,000 foot soldiers, and provide nine months worth of food.  In return, the Republic would be paid 85,000 silver marks, the mark being the equivalent of a half pound.  If any of the Crusaders were literate, they should have read the contract’s fine print.  That sum was non-negotiable.  If no one showed up for the Crusade, Venice would still be owed that amount.  And strangely enough, the courts of Europe were soon pervaded with the most discouraging reports about the impending Crusade.  Somehow the Egyptians had been warned of the impending attack, and were preparing for it.  Furthermore, questions now were raised as to this Crusade’s mission:  Egypt was not the Holy Land, and so carnage there offered no spiritual redemption.  When, in 1202, the Crusaders were to assemble in Venice, less than a third of the anticipated number arrived.

Nevertheless,  they still were expected to pay that 85,000 silver marks.  The Crusaders might as well have taken a vow of poverty, selling and pawning whatever they could; but their earnest destitution only scrapped together 50,000 marks.   Venice took that as a down payment but its ships stayed anchored; and the Crusaders were stranded.  (They were camped on the Lido, but in 1202 they were about seven centuries early for the tourist season.)  An army of idle and exasperated Crusaders could have been a danger to the city, but Dandolo found  a way to divert them.  It just so happened that Venice was at war with Hungary; would the Crusaders like a little gainful employment?  Anything they could loot from Hungarian towns and corpses would help pay their debt to Venice.  Once that was settled, the Crusade could set sail.  The Pope had threaten to excommunicate anyone responsible for this misuse of the Crusade; but Venice didn’t care and the Crusaders really didn’t have a choice.

Their expedition would attack the Adriatic port of Zara.  Prior to its departure, the force was to be blessed at San Marco’s.  The sacraments presumably mitigated the irony that the Crusaders were about to sack a Catholic city.  The mosaics and icons of San Marco would have been second-rate Byzantine, but that still would have surpassed anything the Crusaders had seen back home in France and Germany.  That alone would have awed them, but it was merely the backdrop.  For a blind man, Enrico Dandolo still had a wonderful sense of spectacle, and he was about to steal the show.  Addressing the assembly of Venetians and Crusaders, the Doge declared:

“I myself am old and feeble; I need rest.  My body is infirm.  But I know that no man can lead you and govern you as I, your Lord, can do.  If therefore you will allow me to direct and defend you by taking the Cross…I am ready to live and to die with you and the pilgrims.”

The gesture was magnificent:  the ancient invalid would be a crusader.  The motive behind it was equally breathtaking;  the shameless scoundrel intended to hijack the Crusade by taking command of it.  (He didn’t have any apprentice evil geniuses to delegate the heist.)  The expedition embarked in early November, and Zara was conquered a week later.  The Crusaders then expected to sail on to Egypt, but the Doge preferred to winter at Zara.  Since it was his fleet, no one was going anywhere without him.  In the meantime Dandolo was negotiating a new enterprise–and different direction–for his Crusade.  A Byzantine prince wanted to rent it.

A Byzantine Bargain 

Alexius Angelus was the son of the deposed and imprisoned Emperor Isaac II.  To be honest, Isaac deserved to be deposed.  His ten year reign (1185-1195) had been a disaster.  The man was an incompetent tyrant.  He levied ridiculous taxes but usually collected rebellions instead.   Bulgaria revolted over a special tax to pay for an imperial wedding.  The Emperor’s inability to crush the Bulgars only encouraged other provinces to rebel.  During Isaac’s short reign the Empire lost Bulgaria, Serbia and Cyprus.  Faced with reduced revenues and loathing responsibility, the Emperor came up with an unique cost-saving measure.  He out-sourced the Byzantine navy.  The maritime burdens now would be bourne by Byzantium’s former colony and long-time ally…Venice.  (And Venice didn’t mind at all; apparently maritime powers like being handed monopolies.)  Yes, catastrophe is a Greek word, and Isaac’s long overdue ouster came at the hands of his own brother Alexius.

The usurper merely blinded and imprisoned Isaac.  When Isaac had seized the crown, he had his predecessor tortured to death; but that deposed emperor was only a cousin.  If exemplary a brother, the now anointed Alexius III proved just as incompetent.  At least, he had less of an empire to lose.   Through his ineptitude, however, he managed to alienate Byzantium’s most useful ally.  Alexius thought that the Venetians were becoming too powerful.  Of course, he was right; but did he have a practical alternative?  Rebuilding the Byzantine fleet would have been the solution, but that would have required leadership, ability and effort.  Alexius would also be spending money on ships rather than himself: out of the question!  But the Emperor imagined that he had a clever idea: renege on the Treaty with Venice, instead allying the Empire with the two maritime cities of Pisa and Genoa.  In theory, their two smaller fleets would replace the void left by Venice.  And that certainly was a theory.  Now Byzantium had neither a fleet nor an adequate surrogate, but it did have a new enemy.

But here was a Byzantine prince offering Venice a restored alliance, the added incentive of 200,000 silver marks, and an invaluable diversion from Egypt.  The Crusaders were promised 50,000 silver marks of that sum and the cancellation of their debts to Venice.  Alexius further pledged to supply 10,000 soldiers for the Crusade once his father was back on the throne.  Of course, this reinforced Crusade would logically attack the Moslems conveniently adjacent in Anatolia and Syria.  Why bother with an unnecessary detour to Egypt?  And to coax the Catholic Church into removing its excommunication of the Crusaders, Alexius promised to reunite the Greek Orthodox Church with Rome.  So Dandolo had achieved a complete diplomatic triumph; now all he needed was a military one to match it.  But he had to accomplish what the Huns, the Persians, the Arabs, the Bulgars, the Vikings and the Russians had to failed to do:  take Constantinople.

The Roman Emperor Constantine had chosen the site as his capital because it was so easily defended.  A peninsula, protected by water on three sides and the world’s most formidable walls on the fourth, Constantinople defied attack.  Even the sea walls circuiting its harbors and coast were daunting.  Constantinople was not just intimidating but humbling, the greatest city in Christendom.  Its beauty reflected a thousand years of wealth and art.  In the 10th century, Russia  converted to Orthodoxy because “if God existed He had to live in Constantinople”.   At the time of the Fourth Crusade the rich, sophisticated metropolis had a population surpassing 300,000.  Paris would have had a population of 80,000–and without the erudition and hygiene; and don’t even ask about London.

At least, Venice had some semblance to culture–which it acquired primarily from the Byzantines.   The Adriatic city had been a imperial subject until the tenth century and remained a valued ally (at least until Alexius III).  San Marco was originally a Greek Orthodox church and is a replica of the second most prominent church in Constantinople.  Aside from the cultural hand-me-downs, Constantinople conferred one of its greatest favors on the ducal families of Venice:  an imperial princess as a bride.  The Doges did not quite merit a sister or daughter of the emperor, but a niece or a cousin still was considered a munificent offering.  One Byzantine princess introduced to Venice a sophisticated new eating utensil, which we call the fork.  So the Venetians knew Constantinople, and felt a mixed reverence and envy.

On June 24, 1203, the Venetian fleet anchored off Constantinople.  In two different ways, it was an inspiring sight.  The warriors from Western Europe beheld the most magnificent city imaginable, and the sailors from Venice saw no fleet to challenge them.  The great Byzantine navy no longer existed,  and the Pisan and Genoese proxies proved equally absent.  There still were towers that guarded the straits and harbors, but the garrisons also seemed to vanish at the approach of the Venetians.  Alexius III didn’t inspire much heroism.

By mid-July, the Bosporus was just another Venetian lagoon.  But behind its walls, Constantinople remained defiant.  To successfully attack the triple-line of fortifications guarding the city’s landside, the Crusaders would have needed a miracle:  specifically, one that rushed by two centuries the development of the cannon.  (And an excommunicated army couldn’t count on that.)  But the city’s sea walls were not so uniformly impregnable.  The imperial palace, built along the Black Sea, had lower walls so not to interfere with the scenic view.  Those sea walls were not much higher than the prow of a Venetian ship.  In fact, it was possible to swing from a Venetian mast on to the Byzantine ramparts–although a knight in full armor probably shouldn’t have tried.  So, on July 17, 1203, guess where the Venetian fleet attacked?

And leading the attack was Enrico Dandolo himself, standing on the prow of his ship and holding the banner of Venice.  Of course, he was blind to the dangers, and the Byzantine archers proved to be equally blind.   But the Doge’s stance and luck inspired his forces forward.  Within a few hours, the Crusaders held Constantinople’s northern walls and had begun their customary rampage; they were especially fond of arson.  The Byzantines looked to Alexius III for leadership, and then they were just looking for him.  That night he fled the city, abandoning his family but remembering to take the imperial treasury.   The following day the Byzantine imperial council decided that Isaac II had been the rightful emperor all along, transporting him from prison back to the throne.  Since the Crusaders’ sole goal was the old emperor’s restoration,  the war now was over.  Of course, there remained the matter of payment….

Isaac was dismayed to learn of his son’s lavish promises, but he could hardly renege.  Indeed, his consent was superfluous.  The Crusaders had insisted that Alexius be named co-emperor; that way his word was law and so were his debts.  In the best of times, 200,000 silver marks would have amounted to one seventh of the Empire’s gross national product.  (That would be equivalent to $2 trillion dollars in the American economy.)  And this was not exactly a great year for Constantinople.  The treasury had been embezzled; and the provinces, whether in rebellion or confusion, were withholding their revenues from the capital.  So, Isaac II and Alexius IV actually ruled only over Constantinople itself.  Even with new taxes and confiscating silver plates from the city’s churches, the Emperors barely paid half the amount they owed.  But until they paid the rest, the Crusaders were staying in Constantinople–as the Byzantines’ guests, of course.

Unfortunately, the Crusaders did not endear themselves to their hosts.  Crude, unwashed and enthusiastically violent, the “Franks” (the Byzantines’ generic term for the western louts) disrupted daily life in Constantinople.  As tourists, their itinerary was one brawl after another.  It must have thrilled the Byzantine citizenry–the accosted women and the beaten shopkeepers–that their exorbitant taxes were paying for these assaults.   In fairness, the Crusaders were just as sick of Byzantines–those arrogant, decadent deadbeats.  Many of the Crusaders wanted to leave; if the Byzantines had no more money or tolerance, what was the point of remaining?  But the Crusaders couldn’t leave without the Venetian fleet, and Dandolo was intent on staying.

He knew that a continued occupation would lead to war; but that was exactly what he wanted!  The Doge was encouraging the Crusaders to overthrow Isaac and Alexius, and take control of the Empire itself.  However, the army’s commanders were inconveniently ethical.  Yes, the Emperors turned out to be  inept disappointments but they still were allies, so the Crusaders would not betray them.  That lukewarm loyalty surpassed the Byzantines’ regard for their co-emperors, those despised collaborators with the West.  The growing Byzantine outrage would provide Dandolo with his war.

Byzantine patriots found their champion in Alexius Ducas, a noble who overthrew Isaac II and Alexius IV in January, 1204.  Being only a cousin, he had no compunction about killing them.  Although adhering to that annoying nomenclature–Alexius V!–he had more originality as a ruler.  For the first time in two decades, the Empire had a dynamic and inspiring leader; unfortunately, there was not much left to that empire.  Still, the bankrupt city found the resources and resolve to rebuild and rearm itself.  The seawalls breached by the Crusaders were strengthened and heightened; now they will higher than Venetian masts.

Of course, the Crusaders were also preparing for war; but they were more intent on how they would divide up the loot and the empire. It took a month of negotiations between the Venetians and Crusaders, and you know who wheedled the advantages.  The Republic would get three/eighths of the spoils and the same proportion of the empire; first pick, naturally.  There would be a new emperor; Dandolo graciously excluded himself from consideration.  But Venice would have the deciding voice in the selection.  With the pact concluded, all that remained was the necessary carnage.

The Venetian ships attacked on April 9th.  To their surprise, they were repelled.  Imagine what Alexius V could have done with money and a navy.  But the amphibious attacks continued.  By April 11th, the Crusaders had scaled a section of the sea walls and then seized a city gate.  As the night fell, they only controlled a small section of Constantinople; to level the rest of the city, the Crusaders started fires.  By the end of the next day, half of the city was smoldering; but Byzantine resistance had collapsed.  Alexius V ceded the city, fleeing to northern Greece where Alexius III had absconded.  The Fifth hoped that with his ability and the Third’s money, the two could rally the Byzantines.  The old usurper treated his guest like family–blinding him.

Constantinople was shown less mercy.  According to the etiquette of medieval warfare, upon taking a city the victorious troops were entitled to three days of pillage, rape and vandalism.  And here was the richest city in Christendom at their mercy.  Three days really weren’t enough.  The rape of Constantinople became a contest between the Venetians’ discerning thefts and the Crusaders’ carefree destruction.   The city’s hippodrome was as much a museum as a stadium.  Atop the track’s starting gate was an exquisite collection of ancient bronze horses.  Crusaders might have used them as target practice; but the Venetians claimed them first.  Those bronze horses are still on display in Venice, a symbol of the Republic’s glory.

With centuries of accumulated art, the Orthodox churches were tempting prey; the more discerning nobles and the Venetians tried to save the jewel-encrusted icons and relics before the foot soldiers smashed them for the pretty stones.  Yes, the art was still stolen but at least survived; much of it is now seen  in the churches and museums of western Europe.  (Relic forgers would add a cachet to their frauds, claiming the works were taken from Constantinople.)  No such deference was shown the imperial tombs; the corpses of emperors and empresses were stripped of jewelry and then flung away as garbage.  And no one thought of saving the Library of Constantinople.  The illuminated manuscripts were possibly worth stealing, but who cared about those thousands of old scrolls?   They were in Greek!  Even the literate soldiers could decipher only half of that alphabet.  Just who was this A-p-i-z?-t-o-t-something?  So the  last extant collection of ancient literature, including the complete works of Aristotle, simply made a glorious bonfire.

Divide and Consent

While no one begrudged the soldiers such fun, their leaders were preoccupied with matters of state–at least a more elevated form of grave robbing.  Even conceding the independence of Bulgaria and Serbia, the Byzantine Empire still was a large realm.  It encompassed half the Balkans, the area we would recognize as Greece, Macedonia, Albania and Thrace.  As the Venetians certainly knew, the Empire also held the Crimea and, through it, the market of Russia.  Byzantium ruled western Anatolia; the Turks had yet to conquer and rename it for themselves.  But now the Crusadists were to divide up that empire.  Venice claimed three-eighths of it,  and Dandolo knew exactly what he wanted.  Of course, that included the prime real estate of Constantinople itself.  Venice demanded possession of the Golden Horn, the main harbor of Constantinople; how else would it monopolize the city’s trade?    But Venetian venality also had an aesthetic side.  Since their church of San Marco was merely a replica of Constantinople’s second best church, the Venetians now seized the best:  Hagia Sophia.  It would be a Catholic Church with a suitable–meaning Venetian–archbishop.  (The Pope would queasily accept the new archdiocese, acknowledging a faith accompli.)  As for the rest of Byzantium, Venice claimed every major seaport from the Adriatic to the Crimea, the Ionian Islands and Crete.  The Republic would control the eastern Mediterranean and the Black Sea; one could sail from Italy to Russia coasting along the Venetian Empire.

What was left of the Byzantine Empire still required an Emperor, and it was agreed that a Crusader would have the throne.  Two candidates vied for the crown.  An Italian marquis had distinguished himself  for his leadership and character; furthermore, he was related by marriage to Byzantine royalty.  The Venetians had consistently outwitted him, but his ethics and independence were a nuisance.  No, Venice wanted an affable stooge and found its ideal candidate in a Flemish count.  Hail Baldwin I.   The new emperor was duly crowned at Hagia Sophia in mid-May, just enough time to clean the horse manure from the basilica.  Those equine souvenirs were not an intentional affront but a logistical byproduct.  The Crusaders and the Venetians had agreed to bring their plunder to Hagia Sophia, where the loot  would be inventoried and then distributed.  The total haul was an estimated 900,000 silver marks.  (Yes, the Venetians would get their 3/8ths–plus yet another 50,000 silver marks to settle the Crusaders’  debts.  There must be something very devious about bookkeeping in Roman numerals.)  But how do you tote a thousand years’ accumulation of treasure and art?  Trains of horses and mules carried the loot into Hagia Sophia, and then carried it out.  So, for one fetid month, the greatest church in Christendom was also a stable.

As Emperor, Baldwin was entitled to one quarter of the Empire and the fealty of his vassals, the recipients of the remaining three-eighths.  In turn, those vassals would distribute their estates to their retainers who then would dole out morsels to yet a lower tier in the social registry.  Feudalism was great for heraldry but a very dubious form of government.  With this tenuous chain of command, any efficiency was miraculous;  even loyalty was a pleasant surprise.  And if Feudalism was to work at all,  there actually had to be land to award.  But that wasn’t the case in Byzantium.

All the provinces were in rebellion.  A number of Byzantine princes had somehow survived family gatherings; two now established themselves as emperors in Anatolia.  A third, with charming modesty, was merely the Despot of Epirus (alias Albania).   That reprobate Alexius III held northern Greece.  In Thrace, the Byzantines were forming an alliance with the Bulgars; Orthodox barbarians were preferable to Catholic ones.  While in the safety of Constantinople, the Crusaders were free to confer dukedoms upon each other.  But taking them was another matter:  they had to fight their way there and earn their  titles.   Of course, being Crusaders  they welcomed slaughter.

In Greece, they usually won.  There would be Dukes of Athens  and Kings of Thessalonica, and Alexius III would be a fugitive again.   However, Epirus remained Byzantine; its mountains and poverty discouraged conquest.  Trying to hold Thrace, Emperor Baldwin died a prisoner of the Bulgars.   As for Anatolia, the Crusaders had to concede it to the Byzantines.  Invading the peninsula required a navy, but the Crusaders no longer had one.  The Venetians had immediate need of their fleet to transport their Byzantine loot– including 75 tons of gold and silver–back home.  After that, the fleet would be fighting for control of Venice’s  newly acquired territories.  It seems that the only passive Byzantines were in Constantinople; Crete would take eight years to conquer.

But however fierce the provinces’ resistance, without Constantinople the Empire ceased to exist.  Its fragments were rump states of Greeks and Crusaders, warring with each other and among themselves.  In 1261 one of the Greek states would regain the city of Constantinople but it could not reunite and revive the Empire.  Constantinople became  just one more enclave among the patchwork of Balkan states.  It would not challenge the empire that Venice had created.  The Republic would maintain its mercantile supremacy for three centuries, finally driven from the seas by the growing naval power of the Ottoman Empire.

Ironically, that too was a consequence of Enrico Dandolo’s brilliant machinations.  Since the rise of Islam, Byzantium had been Christendom’s bulwark against Moslem invasions of Europe.  It had thwarted the Arab attempts and, though losing eastern Anatolia,  it had halted the Turkish advance.  Yet solely for Venice’s profit, Dandolo had destroyed Byzantium and Christendom’s strongest defense.  Now  the Turks only faced two smaller feuding principalities in Anatolia and assorted chaos in the Balkans.  Just as the Venetians thrived in the absence of Byzantium, so too would the Ottomans–and their empire would be ruled from Constantinople.

Enrico Dandolo died in 1205.  You’d think that in his last days he would have returned to Venice to bask in the adulation of a dazzled Republic.  He was not only the greatest doge in the city’s history but the founder of its empire.  If only in Venice, the man deserved a triumph.  But Dandolo stayed on in Constantinople, eschewing the celebrations because he had an empire to manage.  Besides Venice could not give the ailing nonagenarian what he really wanted:  the last laugh.  He wanted to be buried in Hagia Sophia, the site of his greatest and most infamous achievement.    And there he remains, his last and ever-lasting affront to the Byzantines.

I am learning to appreciate pornographic spam.  At least, it is grammatical and intelligible.  None has yet offered to enhance my pensive.

In sorry contrast, consider these messages.  Here is one from devoted reader Accutleroorie:

Converting Measurements Online

The Internet has made it easier to switch sundry measurements. Unprejudiced be appropriate online and type the measurements you after to convert. You pleasure see not too sites. Click one.

You will see fields with labels like “cm to in”, “in to cm”, mm to cm” etc. Reasonable put down the figure you necessitate to change. Click “work out” or “change”. The results will-power be displayed. There are also online calculators you can use.

Worse, I think that this was plagiarized from my television owner’s manual.

And I just heard from my enthusiastic reader Gearldine Delashmutt:

a lot far more webmasters ever before determine all your things internet websites prefer to offer you folks may fit appropriate in preparing to check back

Yes, please do check back and I’ll teach you how to spell Geraldine.  In your case, Ms. Delashmutt, crime doesn’t pay, and high school evidently didn’t either.

I obviously don’t have a criminal mind, despite being in public relations, so I don’t understand the point of this illiterate messages.  Am I supposed to be lured by “Gearldine” to divulge my credit cards or social security number?  I am not offering my editorial services to aspiring felons–other than MBAs–but why don’t you sociopaths just plagiarize my work.  

Really, you are likely to get more readers/victims with this lead:

Today is the 196th anniversary of Waterloo. As you can imagine, I have spent the day comforting Catherine Deneuve, Carol Bouquet, Juliette Binoche and Eva Green. (All right, try to imagine it.)

Besides, the name Eugene Finerman seems somewhat more plausible than Gearldine Delashmutt.

p.s.  And since it really is the anniversary of Waterloo: https://finermanworks.com/your_rda_of_irony/2009/06/18/waterloo-or-lieu-2/

In Dublin, Manhattan and the more pompous English departments, this day is commemorated with intentional incoherence as a celebration of James Joyce and the setting of “Ulysses”.  June 16, 1904 is when “stately, plump Buck Mulligan came from the stairhead” and entered Cliffs Notes.

The appropriate form of celebration would be subversive erudition.  For instance, go to Mass and proclaim “Carrion Liaison”  (which theoretically could describe transubstantiation).  See if you get away with the pun or if a Jesuit punches you in the mouth.  The only real danger is if your emergency room physician is the sibling of a programmer at HBO or Showtime.

Because then the next Bloomsday would be celebrated with the premiere of  “Ulysses“–starring Larry David and Lucy Lawless…

On tonight’s episode Leo suspects that his circumcision was performed by Jack the Ripper.  He insists that Scotland Yard investigate.  Arthur Balfour (guest star Ricky Gervais)  thinks of a way to get Leo out of the office.   Back in Dublin, Molly gives a  “Yes I said yes I will Yes” to William Butler Yeats, Barry Fitzgerald and the touring D’Oyly Carte Company.  She does turn down Kaiser Wilhelm II; this will have repercussions.

Stereo Simulcast in Latin, Greek and Middle English–all at once.

Is being me a chronic condition?  Apparently so.  A friend just reminded me of an incidence from 40 years ago.  A group of Hispanic activists stormed into the college newspaper office.  They demanded to know why the Daily Illini was not giving more coverage to Hispanic issues.  A certain features writer quipped, “We supported the Moors.”

The activists didn’t get the joke…or the additional coverage.

And now the latest manifestion of my condition. 

I recently wrote a magazine article about the Salem Witch Trials.  Now, there are some valuable lessons to be learned from this story.  You certainly can see that America has a long tradition of sanctimonious hypocrisy.  (Most of the victims happened to be political opponents or commercial rivals of Salem’s leading family.)  And if a clique of  Mean Girls can terrorize 17th century Massachusetts, you should be amazed that you somehow survived high school.  You might also have some premonitions of Sarah Palin’s presidency.

But I saw intriguing similarities between “The Crucible” and “Bye Bye Birdie.”  They both center around hysterical teenagers, and if Paul Lynde isn’t a witch who is?  “What’s the Matter With Kids Today” is applicable to either show.  And imagine Dick Van Dyke as Cotton Mather performing an exorcism to “Put on a Happy Face”! 

Peter Sellars is called a genius for coming up with ideas like this.  I’d be lucky to get a Brooks Brothers’ straitjacket.   

p.s.  Let’s not forget the historic significance of this day:  https://finermanworks.com/your_rda_of_irony/2009/06/15/king-johns-involuntary-gift-to-us-2/

HBO, BBC2 Make Deal To Turn Robert Graves Novel ‘I, Claudius’ Into Epic Miniseries

Unfortunately, this is not a headline from 1975.  That was when “I, Claudius” was produced for television, and the series was merely a masterpiece.  The life of the Caesar family was the blackest of comedies. Sian Phillips as the Empress Livia stole the show and committed every other crime as well.  John Hurt made Caligula an endearing monster; he had a childlike wonder at all the abominations he could perpetrate.  Then, there was Derek Jacobi in the title role:  our stammering, slobbering, limping hero who uses his handicaps to pose as as a negligible fool,  masking the keen mind that sees all and narrates the sordid story. 

I have seen the series six times, so I have memorized almost the entire dialogue.  If there were ever a “Claudie” convention, I would consider going, possibly even in costume.  I do have the legs for a tunic (sorry, no illustrative photos–I am not a congressman) but for sentimental reasons, I’d probably go as Herod Agrippa.  He was charming, droll and quite likely a relative.

So what can be gained by remaking “I, Claudius”?  If HBO is worried about British actors starving, there is a time-honored way to exploit and denigrate a masterpiece.  Make a sequel!  Why not produce “Me, Nero”, the story of a repulsive teenager with delusions of talent? But for the foreskin, it could be a Judd Apatow movie.  Jonah Hill would be perfect.  And if that succeeds, there is “I, Galba”–the story of an irritating coot who becomes emperor; get Randy Quaid’s agent.  After that, there is “Us, Otho”–a badly aging playboy becomes emperor: Charlie Sheen’s comeback!  “We, Vitellius”–a fat has-been with an embarrassing toupee:  where do I start? 

And HBO: there were more than 80 Roman Emperors!  Calculating two seasons an emperor, the network has 160 years of shows.  After that, HBO can start with the Byzantines.  (By 2170, I should be finished with the Theodora script.)