The Great Betrayal (25 page)

One thing that the Crusaders and Venetians had achieved in their capture of the city was to ensure that the rift between the two major branches of Christendom would last for centuries.

They had split Christendom more conclusively than if they had been pagans, and the loathing which the Orthodox Church was to feel towards Rome was to bear its fruit in 1453. At the very moment when the Moslem Turks were bent on capturing the city, Lucas Notaras, one of the last great statesmen whom Constantinople was to produce, could still remark: “Better the Sultan’s turban than the Cardinal’s hat.” Such was the hatred that the Fourth Crusade inspired, and such was the outlook it produced, that a Greek Christian two and a half centuries later would rather have embraced Mohammedanism than Union with the Church of Rome.

As for the Venetians, the Pope’s indignation knew no bounds. It was they, he pointed out, who had deliberately deflected a Crusading army designed to make war upon the Saracens. “You despised my legate,” he continued, “and treated my excommunication of you with contempt. You have broken your Christian vows, and have despoiled the Churches and their treasures… Tell me, if you can, how you can ever redeem yourselves—you who have turned aside a Christian army destined for the Holy Land? With this great and powerful army not only Jerusalem but even part of Babylon might have been captured. The proof of this is that an army which could so easily take Greece and Constantinople could equally well have captured Alexandria and the Holy Land from the infidels.” His words fell on indifferent ears. Rome was a long way away, and in any case neither Dandolo nor his fellow-Venetians regarded the Pope as any more than another temporal ruler.
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The Pope’s own legate, Cardinal Peter of Capua, was no less castigated for his part in the expedition. Innocent III even went so far as to say that he believed the Cardinal had been privy to the plot all along. This is impossible to believe, and indeed the Doge and Boniface and the other leaders had had so little to do with the Papal legate since he had first joined the expedition that it is inconceivable he was one of the conspirators. But in the Pope’s eyes the Cardinal’s worst sin was that he had absolved the Crusaders from their vow to proceed to the Holy Land, and had even lifted the sentence of excommunication from the Venetians. Presumably he had felt that the Pope would be sufficiently pleased at the subjection of the Orthodox Church to Rome as to forgive the way in which it had been done.

But it was the very manner in which it had been done that filled Innocent with rage. When he had first received the news from Baldwin that the eastern Church now accepted Union, and that the age-old schism was healed, he had written expressing his approval and enthusiasm. But when he learned the true details of the capture of Constantinople, and of the sack that had followed it, he recoiled in horror. Innocent III was too distinguished a human being to believe that ‘the end justifies the means’. The fact remained that he was powerless to do any more than express his violent disapproval of every action that had been taken since the fleet had left Venice. His powerless-ness was very clearly reflected in the fact that he now learned the Venetians had calmly appointed a fellow-Venetian, Thomas Morosini, to be the new Patriarch of Constantinople. They had done this without even bothering to consult the Pope, merely allowing him to be informed when their action was a
fait accompli.

Meanwhile the dismemberment and reapportioning of the Byzantine Empire engaged the attention of the victors. The Venetians took the three-eighths of Constantinople which had been part of their price—and made sure that their share included Santa Sophia and the rich area around the Cathedral. Dandolo, under his sumptuous title of ‘Duke of Dalmatia and Croatia, and Lord of one quarter and a half of the Roman Empire’ was given the further Byzantine title of ‘Despot’ and wore the imperial buskins just as if he was co-emperor. He quickly made sure that those parts of the Empire which would be useful to Venice were apportioned to her—the western, or Ionian, coastline of Greece, together with the Ionian Islands, the ports on the northern side of the Sea of Marmora, the Greek Peloponnese or such ports on its coast as Venice might want, the islands of Andros, Euboea and Naxos, Gallipoli, and the great inland trading city of Adrianople.

As against these tangible and practical assets, the inheritance of the Emperor Baldwin was considerably less promising. It was true that all of Thrace was his, but much of it would need to be conquered, or at least compelled by a show of strength to recognise him as emperor. A further hazard to his overlordship of Thrace was the fact that two ex-emperors were still in his domains—Murtzuphlus, and Alexius III, the man whose occupancy of the throne had been the excuse for the army’s first attack on the city. Both these ex-emperors had their followers and both would be unlikely to submit without a fight, knowing the fate that would inevitably be in store for them. Apart from Thrace, the Emperor Baldwin was to rule over the provinces of Bithynia and Mysia as far south as Mount Olympus, and a number of the eastern Aegean Islands, among them Lesbos, Chios, Samos and Cos. Since they were all on the fringe of Turkish-occupied Asia Minor, they, too, were likely to be more of a liability than an asset.

As for Boniface, his territory was to include the central and eastern parts of continental Greece (largely unproductive), the island of Crete, and ‘the Roman territory of Asia Minor’. Since nearly all Asia Minor, with the exception of a few Byzantine enclaves like Nicea and Trebizond, was now in the hands of the Turks, this gift was a hollow one. Boniface certainly did not command enough troops to dream of undertaking a full-scale campaign against the Turks.

Having paid homage to Baldwin as his lord, Boniface quickly began agitating for a better share of land. He pointed out that since he was married to the sister of the King of Hungary it would be convenient for him to rule the principality of Thessalonica, as it adjoined the lands of his brother-in-law. In return, he was prepared to concede his rights to the somewhat problematical territory in Asia Minor.

Baldwin had no wish to have this dangerous rival on the mainland just south of his own territory and argued forcibly against any change in the agreement. Boniface, however, circumvented him and secured the backing of the Venetians for his claim, with the result that Baldwin was forced to give way and Boniface became ruler of Thessalonica and its important industrial and trading city of Salonica. It is worth remarking that, in exchange for the support of Doge Dandolo and the Venetians, Boniface sold them the island of Crete. It was a useful acquisition on their part, and one which they were to turn to their advantage in the centuries to come.

Already the ruin of a structure that had survived—although with shifting fortunes—ever since the reign of Constantine was complete. Greece and the Aegean Islands, the territories of eastern Europe, and the remnants of the Empire in Asia Minor had lost their central control. Divided into petty feudal kingdoms, they were destined to collapse into an anarchy that would not be resolved until the Ottoman Empire imposed its iron hand upon them.

The Latin ‘Empire of Romania’, as it was called, was unworkable from the very start. Its constitution was impracticable; it was hampered by its dependence on Venice; by its lack of a fleet, and by its ruined financial position. To add to the problems, it was not long before the rift between Baldwin and Boniface openly declared itself. Upon Baldwin’s preparing to march into Thrace to establish his hold over his territory, and to destroy Murtzuphlus and Alexius III, Boniface declined to accompany him—declaring that for his part he wanted to go to Salonica to secure his new principality. Dandolo, meanwhile, was left behind in Constantinople as virtual ruler of the city.

Baldwin, having failed to secure Boniface’s assistance, himself marched south to Salonica. His rival promptly made his way north and began besieging the city of Adrianople—technically part of Venice’s spoils from the conquest. Let loose upon the broad and unfamiliar lands of eastern Europe, the new emperor and his principal vassal were behaving in the same arrogant and ignorant way as did the feudal barons in Europe. War was all they understood—and only petty war at that. Any conception of long-term policies, or of campaigns designed to secure and hold down huge territories, was beyond their primitive military education. Yet these were the men who had inherited the Byzantine Empire—an empire that had survived over centuries through statecraft, guile and an understanding of the ancient Roman principles of government.

The months following the conquest of the city might well have served as an inspiration for those words of W. B. Yeats:

Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;

Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,

The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere

The ceremony of innocence is drowned;

The best lack all conviction, while the worst

Are full of passionate intensity.”
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The dispute between the Emperor Baldwin and Boniface of Montferrat was finally settled by Dandolo. So great was the latter’s power and influence during this period that he seems to have had little difficulty in getting both of these high-handed men to come to his council table, and to accept his decision. The fact was that, despite everything that had happened, the Venetians still controlled Constantinople. They were the masters of its ruler and of all the army, by virtue of the fact that they alone had the shipping without which the city could not exist. Only the Venetians understood the complexities of the eastern Empire, the Aegean and the Levant. The Belgians, French, Northern Italians and Germans who made up the bulk of the Crusading nobility, were like children in their hands. Villehardouin (who was often involved in the transactions taking place during this period) reveals quite clearly that, although Baldwin was technically the emperor, Boniface was the more powerful and impressive figure. Without intending it, he shows also that the real power lay in the hands of Dandolo.

When the first struggle for power between Baldwin and Boniface was resolved (with the definite agreement that Boniface was now ruler of the principality of Salonica), it might have seemed that the main problems of the reorganisation of the Empire were resolved. This was far from the case, even though the one Greek emperor who had shown fire and spirit was soon in the hands of the Latins.

Murtzuphlus, betrayed and forsaken by his followers, was tricked and captured by the sinister Alexius III. The latter, Who seems to have been one of the most despicable characters in history, lured Murtzuphlus to a conference with the suggestion that the two of them, ex-emperors both, should combine their fortunes and their interests. Once Murtzuphlus had arrived he was, in the words of Villehardouin, “hurled to the ground and blinded”. (Even at this late stage in his fortunes Alexius does not seem to have had the necessary courage to have his enemies killed outright.)

Captured by the forces of Baldwin, who were advancing into northern Thrace to secure the land and the cities for the new emperor, Murtzuphlus was brought back in chains to Constantinople. As the murderer of the Fourth Crusade’s protégé, the young Alexius, Murtzuphlus had no hope of clemency. He was ceremonially conducted to the Forum of the Bull before the citizens of Constantinople and the soldiers of the Fourth Crusade. “And once there,” says Nicetas, “he was led to the top of the high tower which stands in the centre of this Forum—and was cast to the ground.” Thus perished Murtzuphlus, last Greek Emperor of Constantinople before the Latin conquest.

The fate of his adversary the ex-Emperor Alexius III was far better than he deserved. It is impossible to have any sympathy with this weak-willed debauchee who had reduced the city to ruin, and who had never displayed any courage in its defence. Fleeing from Thrace, after a brief period as a prisoner of Boniface of Montferrat, he reached Asia Minor where he very soon began conspiring against his own son-in-law, Theodore Lascaris, for the Kingdom of Nicea. Captured and imprisoned, he ended his days in a Nicean monastery—a far kinder fate than those that he had prepared for either his predecessor or his successor on the throne of Constantinople.

As the year 1204 drew to a close, one of the greatest revolutions in European history had taken place—sordid, sinister and without parallel. The whole of the ancient eastern empire, the bastion of Christendom for 900 years, had been dismantled and lay in ruins. In its place, like maggots on a corpse, swarmed the petty and provincial baronies and principalities that owed their origin to the backward states of western Europe.

Constantinople and the Byzantine Empire had straddled the seas dividing Europe from Asia for centuries, and had withstood the shocks of many warring cultures and nations. Now, not unlike the Colossus of Rhodes, this giant monument to the Greek genius lay broken in pieces. It is recorded that when the famous Colossus of Rhodes was overthrown by an earthquake “it was sold to a scrap-metal dealer who had to use 900 camels to carry it away”.
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The same thing was now happening to that far greater Colossus, the Byzantine Empire. The remnants of its gigantic limbs have never to this day been reassembled, let alone cast into a satisfactory new mould.

18

LANDSCAPE WITH RUINS

The conquest brought little happiness to the main protagonists in the drama. Within three years of the capture of Constantinople, the new emperor, Baldwin, the Doge, Enrico Dandolo, and Boniface, Marquis of Montferrat, were all dead—Baldwin within less than a year of his accession to the throne. In the spring of 1205, with nearly all the Greeks in Thrace in revolt against him, Baldwin led out his troops to try and subdue his inheritance. Villehardouin tells us that “the Greeks, who were always perfidious by nature, harboured thoughts of treachery in their hearts”. He does not seem to wonder why the Greeks should ever have been expected to submit willingly to the rule of these Latin Crusaders.