ALMOST A VENETIAN BLIND
Because Venice was an immensely powerful and wealthy player on the European stage—as well as one of the great naval powers of the day—the Doge was automatically one of the most powerful men in Europe. But he had lost the full use of his eyes in an accident in Constantinople, and after that had a powerful hate for that particular city. As it turned out, the Doge would get his share of revenge (as well as booty).
Julius Caesar made history by crossing the Rubicon, but today we don’t know where it is.
WILL THE REAL EMPEROR PLEASE STAND UP?
April 1203, the crusaders made a deal with Alexius, the son of the recently deposed Byzantine emperor. If the crusaders would divert their armies to Constantinople, overthrow the current emperor (another Alexius, in fact, Alexius III), and hand the city over to him, they would be well rewarded. Not all the crusaders were wild about the plan, but most eventually agreed.
THE WRONG IMPRESSION
Venetian galleys carried the crusaders to Constantinople in June 1203. The crusaders had been told that Emperor Alexius III was so unpopular that his people would refuse to support him and give up meekly without a fight. They were mistaken. The Greek citizens put up a good fight, but in the end they were no match for a bunch of well-equipped crusaders. On the night of July 16, the terrified emperor scooped up as much treasure as he could carry and fled. Realizing that further resistance was futile, the citizens of Constantinople opened the gates of the city to the crusaders, who placed their Alexius on the throne.
The citizens of Constantinople bitterly resented the arrogant crusaders. On one occasion, a French knight burned down a mosque because it offended his religious sensibilities. The hostility between Greeks and crusaders got so out of hand that the latter were eventually forced to withdraw.
MOON OVER CONSTANTINOPLE
Things came to a head in February 1204. Alexius’s political opponents broke into his palace and threw him into prison. The crusaders responded with an attack on the city, but, surprisingly, were beaten back. So elated were the Byzantines at the failure of the assault that they dropped their pants and—in that age-old gesture of scorn—presented their bare buttocks to the crusaders.
Whether it was the mooning or not, the crusaders had apparently had enough, and decided to launch an all-out assault on the city. The Venetian ships parked outside the walls of Constantinople had the latest in “high-tech” weaponry, 13th-century style.
Britain’s prime minister is also First Lord of the Treasury.
This included “flying bridges” attached to the high masts of the galleys, which could, by a system of tackles and counterbalanced weights, reach up to the top of the high city walls. These flying bridges, up to one hundred feet in length, were sturdily built: three men abreast could walk across them in full armor. Some of the bridges were built to form tunnels, so the attacking crusaders could crawl through them without being hit by arrows. Once the crusaders had crossed over to the city walls, they began setting fire to the city. The people of Constantinople, seeing their city going up in flames, lost heart and stopped fighting.
PROMISES, PROMISES
The crusaders had made a lot of promises before they’d set out. They’d sworn on sacred religious relics that they’d bring all the gold, silver, and other valuables to a central pool, where everything would be divided up fairly between the Venetians and the various leaders of the Crusade. They’d also sworn—maybe even on a stack of bibles—that they wouldn’t violate any women (on threat that anyone who did so would be condemned to death). They also had promised to never lay a hand on a monk or priest, and to leave all the churches and monasteries alone.
AND WHAT DO YOU SUPPOSE HAPPENED?
The crusaders broke every promise they made. They ran wild and sacked the city. They subjected their fellow (albeit Greek) Christians to three days of nonstop rape, murder, and pillage. The Crusades had reached an all-time low. It’s safe to say that most of the leaders of the Fourth Crusade never had any real intention of heeding Pope Innocent’s plea for them to refrain from killing their fellow Christians (in this case, the Byzantine Greeks). Nor did they ever take seriously the holy cause—liberating the Holy Land for Christianity—that had so deeply and fervently motivated the leaders of the previous Crusades. The one thing they did take very seriously was laying their hands on as much loot as possible. In that respect, this gang of crusaders did very well.
“Avarice and happiness never saw each other, how then should they become acquainted.” Ben Franklin in Poor Richard’s Almanac
In 1829, the Duke of Wellington dueled Britain’s prime minister in Battersea Park.
WANT FRIES WITH THAT?
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Most trivia buffs know that the sandwich was invented by someone called the earl of Sandwich. But who exactly was this genius who made possible the BLT and the pastrami on rye? We wanted to know.
THE SANDWICH CAPITAL OF THE WORLD
Sandwich is a borough in southeast England. Back in 1729, at the tender age of 11, John Montagu became the fourth earl of what was then Sandwich. He grew up to be a member of the House of Lords, served as Britain’s first lord of the Admiralty during the American Revolution, and was quite the bon vivant.
A FRIEND TO FOODIES EVERYWHERE
When he wasn’t busy with the affairs of government, or with his mistress (with whom he had four children), Montagu loved to spend his time gambling. It was during a 24-hour marathon gambling session that the hunger pangs and the world-changing inspiration hit him. Instead of breaking away to sit at a table with knife and fork, he thought to put some kind of filling between two slices of bread, so he could hold the concoction in one hand and his cards in the other.
WHAT WE DON’T KNOW
History doesn’t record the type of bread or the filling, which was probably some kind of salted meat with or without cheese. And we don’t know if it was actually eaten at noontime—just that it was consumed sometime during a 24-hour spate of gambling. The sandwich’s popularity as a lunchtime treat developed later.
WE, WHO ARE ABOUT TO LUNCH, SALUTE YOU!
Montagu’s reputation for gambling is scarcely remembered today, as is little else about his service in the House of Lords, but the fourth earl of Sandwich has left his mark indelibly—or maybe we should say “in-deli-bly”?—wherever light lunches are served.
His lunch creation wasn’t his only namesake—the state of Hawaii was originally known as the Sandwich Islands. When Captain James Cook landed there, he named them in appreciation of Montagu’s naval interests and his promotion of exploration.
Hitler personally saved one Jew from the death camps: Richard Strauss’s daughter-in-law.
THE REAL SPARTACUS
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The true story of the slave who became the most feared man in the Roman Empire! A noble hero meets a black-hearted villain in battle! A rebel uprising! Romance, adventure, and a cast of thousands!
THRACE IS THE PLACE
As the movie Spartacus opens, our hero is sweaty and bedraggled, breaking up rocks. The voice-over tells us that he was the son of a slave, sold into slavery when he was 13.
Not so! The real Spartacus was a tribal warrior from the ancient region of Thrace, which is now part of Greece, Bulgaria, and Turkey. His tribe must have been conquered by the Roman army because the next thing you hear is that he was a Roman soldier. Then he deserted the army, was captured, and was brought to Rome to be sold into slavery. The year was 73 B.C.
GOING, GOING, GONE
Unlike the movie, where Spartacus is a bachelor so he can fall in love with a beautiful slave, the real Spartacus was married. His wife was a priestess and had been captured with him. Legend has it that when they were together in the slave market, a snake coiled itself around Spartacus’s face as he slept. His wife interpreted the snake as a lucky sign, an omen that her husband would become powerful. But not just yet, because soon afterward both Mr. and Mrs. Spartacus became the property of a man named Lentulus
Batiates. Their new owner ran a gladiator school in Capua, near Mount Vesuvius.
GLADIATOR-IN-TRAINING
Spartacus’s fellow students at the imperial gladiator school were mostly prisoners of war from northern Europe like himself. The others were convicted criminals whose lives were saved because they were buff and tough enough to qualify for training. School was really prison, with plenty of time for learning how to kill each other. The men were taught how to handle the gladiatorial weapons: fishing spears, chains, swords, nets, lassos, etc.
Across Italy, gladiatorship was a glamorous profession. Successful fighters were big-name celebrities. Wealthy city folk decorated the walls of their villas with portraits of the greatest gladiators.
The original quisling was Norwegian fascist Vidkun Quisling.
Teeny-boppers swooned over their favorites the way they do over pop stars today. In the ruins of Pompeii, archeologists found love notes to gladiators that young girls had scribbled on public walls.
Back in Capua, Spartacus was one gladiator who couldn’t care less. He reportedly told the others, “If we must fight, we might as well fight for freedom.” One day they got their chance.
THE FIGHT FOR FREEDOM
Spartacus’s words inspired 200 of his fellow gladiators to stage a revolt. Using knives and skewers from the school’s kitchen, they fought their way out. Seventy-eight managed to escape, including Spartacus and his wife. Here’s where the real story sounds like an unbelievable movie plot: as the gladiators ran through Capua, they found carts filled with gladiatorial weapons. True! The escapees swapped their kitchen tools for the real thing and fled.
Once the rebels made it to the countryside, they selected a leader. Spartacus was the natural choice. His first order of business was to lead his troops against the soldiers who’d followed them. The gladiators defeated their pursuers and traded up in weaponry again. Now they were equipped to handle anything.
In the Roman Empire at that time, slaves accounted for one out of every three people. Most of them had been captured when the Romans defeated their countries, so they came from all corners of the empire: Northern Europe, Africa, and the Middle East. The gladiators headed south toward the now-inactive Mount Vesuvius, plundering farms for food and freeing slaves. Most of the slaves were happy to join the ever-growing rebel band.
SNEAK ATTACK
Back in Capua, the local authorities called in the troops. With 3,000 Roman soldiers bearing down on them, Spartacus and company retreated up a narrow path that was the only access to Vesuvius. The rest of the mountain was too steep and slippery to climb. It looked like the Romans, who waited nonchalantly at the bottom, had them trapped.
At the top of Vesuvius, the rebels improvised rope ladders from vines and climbed down the other side. They had the perfect opportunity to sneak away, but Spartacus couldn’t resist catching the Romans with their togas down. The rebels stormed the rear of the Roman camp and captured it easily.
Josef Mengele drowned in Brazil in 1979, where he had been living as Wolfgang Gerhard.
DARN THOSE PESKY SLAVES
Still the Roman senate refused to take Spartacus seriously. And since the best and strongest of Rome’s fighting men were out conquering the rest of the world, the next two armies sent from Rome were thrown together piecemeal: a warm body here, a dreg of society there. Spartacus and his men mowed the armies down.
Every victory brought Spartacus more fame—and more slaves to his side. Less than a year after the escape from Capua, the army of slaves totaled a whopping 70,000. The Roman senate became terrified that the rebels were going to head straight for Rome.
This was the last thing Spartacus wanted. He knew only too well the power of Rome and was as frightened of the real, invincible Roman army as the senate was of him. So he started his troops north toward the Alps and out of Italy. But Spartacus had created a monster. His men didn’t want to escape. They were having too much fun looting and plundering.
ENTER THE BLACK-HEARTED VILLAIN
Rome enlisted its best troops against Spartacus. The only problem was that the senate couldn’t find a general to lead them. It wasn’t just the danger of battle: losing to a ragtag bunch of rebels was more indignity than most military men could face.
Up stepped Marcus Crassus, who had been waiting for the right moment to save the day. Crassus was the richest man in Rome, and possibly the most unprincipled—this in a town where a principle was hard to find. He’d made his money in various nefarious ways and is still famous for starting Rome’s first fire brigade. In his method of firefighting, though, the property owner had to pay an exorbitant fee before the fire brigade set to work. And the fire itself was usually set by one of Crassus’ employees. This is the man who led ten Roman legions against Spartacus.
THAT’LL TEACH YOU A LESSON!
Crassus was smart enough to know that Spartacus wanted to get out of Italy. (But not smart enough to know that the rebels were as greedy as he was and that they weren’t going anywhere.)
He sent a lieutenant named Mummius with two legions and strict orders not to fight, but to provoke the rebels into marching north, where he would wait for them. But Mummius led a frontal assault against Spartacus’s rebels and got clobbered.
Charles Lindbergh once worked with Dr. Alexis Carrel on an artificial heart.
After reading Mummius the riot act, Crassus sentenced the defeated legions to the traditional Roman punishment called “decimation.” The soldiers were divided into groups of ten. Each group drew lots to see which of them would die. The unlucky ones-in-ten were killed in agonizing ways in front of the whole army. This inspired the men to try harder next time.
THOSE WHO ARE ABOUT TO DIE. . .
Crassus and his legions chased the rebels south to the toe of the Italian boot, just across the water from the island of Sicily. The slaves stood with their backs to the sea, facing about 50,000 of the best-trained soldiers in the world. Crassus thought fast. He dug a ditch 37 miles long and 15 feet wide and deep. It cut the rebels off from any escape route but the sea. For extra insurance, the ditch was backed by a wall. The rebels managed to cross the ditch and tried to scale the wall but were beaten back after losing more than 10,000 men. When Spartacus heard that another army was on its way to join Crassus, he led his men in one more desperate charge. This time the plucky rebels made it over the wall and through enemy lines. But as they fled, the new army blocked their way.
DECISIONS, DECISIONS
Spartacus decided to turn and fight. It was a long and bloody battle. Spartacus was killed, and his body was never found among the tens of thousands of dead. His followers fled to the mountains, pursued by Crassus. After one last battle, 6,000 slaves remained. Crassus had them all crucified, their bodies spaced evenly along the road from Capua to Rome. There’s no record of the fate of Spartacus’s wife.
In the film, Spartacus survives the battle, which leads to a great scene where Crassus promises that he won’t crucify the remaining men if someone will identify Spartacus. Of course, the noble Kirk Douglas is about to speak up when the other men, one by one, stand up and shout “I’m Spartacus!” “I’m Spartacus!” Our hero has one last great scene where he dies on his crucifix after having seen his baby son.
According to Kirk Douglas, the slave army’s cries of
“I am Spartacus” were actually recorded using the crowd at a
Michigan State (Spartans) v. Notre Dame football game.
Alexander Hamilton wasn’t born in the United States, but on the Caribbean island of Nevis.
GRAVE MATTERS
If you’re dead, you’re history. Here are some not-very-grave epitaphs from around the world.
Beneath this stone, a lump of clay,
Lies Uncle Peter Dan’els,
Who, early in the month of May,
Took off his winter flannels.
She always said her feet were killing
her, but nobody believed her.
Once I wasn’t
Then I was
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Now I ain’t again.
Looked up the elevator shaft to see if the car was on the way down. It was.
He valued only what the world held cheap
(Refused to work, from laziness and pride)
Dreams were his refuge and he welcomed sleep
(He failed in business, took to drink and died).
“I told you I was sick!”
36-33-01-24-17
Honey you don’t know what you did for me,
always playing the lottery.
The numbers you picked came in to play,
two days after you passed away.
For this, a huge monument I do erect, for now I get a yearly check. How I wish you were alive,
Uncle John's Bathroom Reader Plunges into History Page 50
