FinermanWorks

Oh for the good old days, when megalomaniac tyrants had a sense of style.  Who wouldn’t want to be under Mussolini’s thumb, knowing those brass knuckles were from Bulgari!  And Saddam Hussein’s palaces were obvious homages to MGM classics; at least one of his wives had to be Norma Shearer.  But Muammar Qaddafi evidently shops at Target.  Perusing the architecture and decor of his homes, the New York Times was dismayed by his tackiness.

Given Colonel Qaddafi’s noted flamboyance, the residences of the House of Qaddafi were not quite as grand as people might have supposed.

They lacked the faux grandeur of Saddam Hussein’s marbled palaces. There are no columns that bear the colonel’s initials, or fists cast to resemble his hands or river-fed moats with voracious carp.

His overt support of terrorism apparently is not so abhorent as his interior decorating.  The man’s style is “Seventies”.  His epauletted wardrobe may have been “Sergeant Pepper” but his living room was “The Wonder Years.”  Qaddafi probably had kept plastic covers on his nuclear reactors.

The New York Times is so disappointed in him.

This Week in History:

August 28:  https://finermanworks.com/your_rda_of_irony/2009/08/28/a-fool-and-his-empire/

August 29:  https://finermanworks.com/your_rda_of_irony/2009/08/29/cheeri-opium-2/

August 30:  https://finermanworks.com/your_rda_of_irony/2010/08/30/fanny-get-your-gun/

August 31:  https://finermanworks.com/your_rda_of_irony/2009/08/31/in-praise-of-impotence-2/

September 1:  https://finermanworks.com/your_rda_of_irony/2009/09/01/2529/

September 2:  https://finermanworks.com/your_rda_of_irony/2009/09/02/the-regicide-regatta/

September 3:  https://finermanworks.com/your_rda_of_irony/2009/09/03/quite-original-sin/

Piss en Scene

If Gerard Depardieu urinated in the aisle of an airplane, at least it was in character.  He exudes an enthusiastic vulgarity in his roles, and you would expect his hygiene to be as ripe as his acting.  Yet, the great French stars of the past would have shown more finesse.  Under similar stress, Maurice Chevalier, Charles Boyer and Louis Jourdan would have asked for champagne flutes.  Alain Delon would have requested a brandy snifter, although he seemed the type to fling the contents in your face.  Jean-Paul Belmondo would want a glass de “whiskey”.  Yves Montand would settle for an empty bottle of vin ordinaire but Philippe Noiret would prefer a better vintage for his vintage.  And Jean Gabin?  Well, he wouldn’t even be on an airplane but working his passage on a freighter.

This week in history:

August 21:  https://finermanworks.com/your_rda_of_irony/2008/08/21/if-only-lincoln-and-douglas-debated-today/

August 22:  https://finermanworks.com/your_rda_of_irony/2009/08/22/the-karl-roves-of-tudor-england-2/

August 23:  https://finermanworks.com/your_rda_of_irony/2009/08/23/history-rumors-and-hollywood/

August 24:  https://finermanworks.com/your_rda_of_irony/2009/08/24/the-best-laid-plans-of-mice-and-queen-mothers/

August 25: https://finermanworks.com/your_rda_of_irony/2009/08/25/caviar-preemptor-2/

August 26:  https://finermanworks.com/your_rda_of_irony/2009/08/26/von-clueless-on-war/

August 27:  https://finermanworks.com/your_rda_of_irony/2009/08/27/when-in-rome-2/

On August 15, 1769 Letizia Buonaparte gave birth to her second son.  The nationality of the Corsican infant had been determined by the vagaries of diplomacy.  His older brother Guiseppe had been born in 1768 a citizen of Genoa.  But Corsica had changed masters and Napoleone was a French subject.  Corsicans, however, always regarded themselves as a law unto themselves.  Indeed, Corsica’s chief industry seemed to be banditry; and perhaps Napoleone would become its greatest practitioner–ransacking all of Europe.  He may have been born French, but he did not learn that language until he was 10 and never lost his Corsican accent.  (At the time, Corsican would have sounded like abysmal Italian and worse French; today it is just the opposite.)

His father Paolo had proved an accommodating collaborator to the French authorities, and the government rewarded Papa Buonoparte with steady employment and a scholarship for young Napoleone.  (Of course, the boy would have to adopt a more Gallic spelling for his name.)  The boy was sent to the military academy at Brienne, France.  His education there was determined by his social standing.  A scholarship boy lacked the aristocratic pedigree required of an officer in the infantry or cavalry.  Artillery was considered more menial, so Napoleon was trained for that and received his lieutenant’s commission in 1785.

But the caste system that fettered Napoleon’s early career was about to be overthrown.  France was an 18th-century society constrained by a 14th-century monarchy.  Decades of frustration and misrule finally led to a revolution in 1789.  The fumbling, obtuse Louis XVI refused the popular demand for a constitutional monarchy.  At the urgings of his queen Marie Antoinette, Louis appealed to his fellow monarchs to rescue him from his own people.  In response, a coalition of German states invaded France in 1792.  Learning of Louis’ support for the invasion, France saw no further need for a constitutional monarchy or a breathing monarch.  Then the rest of Europe declared war on this regicidal France.

It would seem an uneven fight, and it was–because France had a young officer named Bonaparte.  He was a brigadier general at 24, conqueror of Italy at 26, dictator of France at 30, Emperor by 35, master of Europe at 37; and his descent proved even faster.  Russia, Elba, Waterloo, St. Helena’s, death at 51.

Two centuries later, he remains a legend.  To most of Europe, he is a tyrant–the Bogeyman of Britain and the Anti-Christ in Spain.  Yet, Italy and Poland remember him as a liberator.  And he is France’s most contentious hero.  The liberals cannot decide whether he championed the French Revolution or betrayed it.  The conservatives deplore him personally but love the glory he bestowed on France.  And none would deny his charisma.

The poet Alfred de Musset described the mesmerizing hold of Napoleon on France and history:

The life of Europe was centered in one man; all were trying to fill their lungs with the air which he had breathed. Every year France presented that man with three hundred thousand of her youth; it was the tax paid to Caesar, and, without that troop behind him, he could not follow his fortune. It was the escort he needed that he might traverse the world, and then perish in a little valley in a deserted island, under the weeping willow.

Never had there been so many sleepless nights as in the time of that man; never had there been seen, hanging over the ramparts of the cities, such a nation of desolate mothers; never was there such a silence about those who spoke of death. And yet there was never such joy, such life, such fanfares of war, in all hearts. Never was there such pure sunlight as that which dried all this blood. God made the sun for this man, they said, and they called it the Sun of Austerlitz. But he made this sunlight himself with his ever-thundering cannons which dispelled all clouds but those which succeed the day of battle.

It was this air of the spotless sky, where shone so much glory, where glistened so many swords, that the youth of the time breathed. They well knew that they were destined to the hecatomb; but they regarded Murat as invulnerable, and the emperor had been seen to cross a bridge where so many bullets whistled that they wondered if he could die.

And even if one must die, what did it matter? Death itself was so beautiful, so noble, so illustrious, in his battle-scarred purple! It borrowed the color of hope, it reaped so many ripening harvests that it became young, and there was no more old age. All the cradles of France, as all its tombs, were armed with shield and buckler; there were no more old men, there were corpses or demi-gods.

July 29th

You probably have never heard of the battle of Kleidion, but you may know of its aftermath. The Byzantines generally hated war: it was costly, unpredictable and vulgar. They preferred to charm, bribe or undermine their opponents. Give the semi-barbaric kinglet a tour of the splendors of Constantinople, present him with a few bolts of silk and the overawed warlord usually would behave himself. (At the same time, encourage his ambitious younger brother.) The Byzantines also used Christianity as a form of diplomacy. Converting to the Orthodox Creed was a submission to the spiritual leadership of the Patriarch of Constantinople–and guess who controlled him. (No, not Jesus.)

But Byzantine subtlety was lost on the Bulgarians. Since the Bulgarians had first crossed the Danube in the 7th century and made the once Greek Thrace irretrievably Slavic, they had been at odds with the Byzantines: sometimes a danger, always a threat. At times, the Bulgarians controlled more of Greece than the Byzantines did. The street signs of Athens could have been in Cyrillic. Forced to fight, the Byzantines experienced all the vagaries of war. The skull of one Emperor became a drinking goblet for the Bulgar king. That particular king was a pagan; Christianity may have improved the table manners of Bulgarian royalty but not their aggressiveness. The wars continued. However, Constantinople was impregnable, the Byzantine navy was unchallenged, and the Empire’s Asian provinces had the wealth and manpower to equip more armies that would eventually push the Bulgarians back.

At the beginning of the 11th century, the Byzantines were led by one of the greatest warriors of his time: Basil II. Indeed, he was such a committed soldier that he never bothered to marry. Ahem. Basil had decided to destroy the Bulgarian Empire, and he had the ability and resources to do it. On this day in 1014, the invading Byzantines outflanked the Bulgarian army, capturing almost the entire force.

Basil had 15,000 prisoners and a pointed message for the Bulgarian king. The captives were blinded. Out of every hundred men, one would be spared (only losing one eye) to guide his blind comrades back home. So, through the Balkans staggered this horrid procession, one blind soldier clutching the shoulder of the blind man ahead him, with an one-eyed man leading them. It took this blind army two months to reach the Bulgarian capital. At this wretched sight, the Bulgarian Tsar died of a heart attack.

Bulgaria would soon be part of the Byzantine Empire. Basil certainly earned the epithet “the Bulgar-Slayer.” Ironically, history looks at the Emperor with a certain respect and even approval. After all, the Byzantines were more erudite and sophisticated than the Bulgarians. The more civilized are always the good guys.

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/

Can you find the silver lining in a nuclear bomb cloud?  Do you view corruption and crime as alternate creativity?  And are you too lazy for journalism, not clever enough for advertising, and too uncoordinated for three-card Monte?  Then you should consider a career in Public Relations!

Do you have what it takes?  Just take this simple test.  Here is a quote that might be a bit awkward for a certain corporation.  All you have to do is improve the truth!

May 28, 1937:

Volkswagen is founded

On this day in 1937, the government of Germany–then under the control of Adolf Hitler of the National Socialist (Nazi) Party–forms a new state-owned automobile company, then known as Gesellschaft zur Vorbereitung des Deutschen Volkswagens mbH. Later that year, it was renamed simply Volkswagenwerk, or “The People’s Car Company.”

Originally operated by the German Labor Front, a Nazi organization, Volkswagen was headquartered in Wolfsburg, Germany. In addition to his ambitious campaign to build a network of autobahns and limited access highways across Germany, Hitler’s pet project was the development and mass production of an affordable yet still speedy vehicle that could sell for less than 1,000 Reich marks (about $140 at the time). To provide the design for this “people’s car,” Hitler called in the Austrian automotive engineer Ferdinand Porsche. In 1938, at a Nazi rally, the Fuhrer declared: “It is for the broad masses that this car has been built. Its purpose is to answer their transportation needs, and it is intended to give them joy.”

History.com

Goodness, what unpleasant details!  How can Public Relations enhance the story?  Here is an example….

Happy Birthday, You Adorable Beetle!

On this day in 1937, Germany thought of a car as cute as their Steiff stuffed animals. Introduced by a well-known vegetarian with a sweet-tooth (hint, he might be Charlie Chaplin!), the cuddly, affordable little vehicle was called the People’s Car.  And what could be friendlier than that!

So, Happy Birthday, you folksy Volksy!

Audition Call: We need 300 “reenactors” for the anniversary of the Council of Nicaea. Yes, the Council opened on this day in 325. Any prospective reenactors should be in excellent health. The Council was literally a La Cross tournament, with the bishops wielding their crosiers as sticks. The Emperor Constantine was both host and referee.

It would be charming to include a descendant of Constantine in the celebrations. Unfortunately, there aren’t any. Constantine did have a large family, but they preoccupied themselves with killing each other off. The Emperor had six children, two grandchildren and no great-grandchildren. That is internecine efficiency. It is the same story for the Emperor’s nephews and nieces, just shorter, with Constantine killing a few himself.

Fortunately, there should be no lack of descendants of the attending bishops. In 325, many bishops and most priests were married. There were a few curmudgeons who advocated celibacy, but they were a distinct minority. The presiding bishop of the Council, Patriarch Alexander of Alexandria, actually encouraged priests to be married. If the Council never issued an official endorsement of married clergy, that was only because it was too obvious to be necessary.

The Church had more important–serious–issues to resolve. By A.D. 325, Christianity was out of the catacombs and in the establishment, the favorite theology of the Emperor Constantine. Unfortunately, religious tolerance gave Christians the freedom to persecute each other. It was not the spiritual monolith that Constantine had expected. The exasperated emperor summoned the bishops to Nicaea, ordering the fractious theologians to agree to a binding definition of the Holy Trinity.

Since the Trinity was now the doctrine of the Church, the Greek intellectuals could fight over the nature of the Trinity. That would be good for about five centuries of debates, denunciations and schisms.

And what is a religion without relics. Here is one of mine:

https://finermanworks.com/your_rda_of_irony/2006/10/27/lets-get-metaphysical/

May 8, 1945 : V-E Day is celebrated in American and Britain On this day in 1945,German troops throughout Europe finally laid down their arms.  Both Great Britain and the United States celebrate Victory in Europe Day. Cities in both nations, as well as formerly occupied cities in Western Europe, put out flags and banners, rejoicing in the defeat of the Nazi war machine.

Of course, the German terms of surrender required a few first drafts….

1. How many umlauts in Oops?
2. Thanks for an exciting match.  How about three out of five?
3. But, all in all, this was great product placement for Daimler-Benz.
4. I don’t suppose that you’ll believe that we are just a troop of Swiss boy scouts….

p.s.  Let’s not forget the historic significance of this day:  https://finermanworks.com/your_rda_of_irony/2010/05/08/knuckles-lavoisier-2/

Let’s not forget the sentimental significance of this day:  https://finermanworks.com/your_rda_of_irony/2010/05/09/happy-mothers-day-2/