by David Jacobs
Throughout the twelfth century, the Byzantine Empire dwindled, and the best that an emperor in the capital could do was to slow the disintegration as much as possible. Most ominous of all for the Byzantines was the ever-growing power of Western Europe. When Pope Innocent III encouraged the lords of the Holy Roman Empire to begin the Fourth Crusade in 1199, he ignored the interests of the Byzantines. It was as though the West had ceased to regard the Byzantines as Christians.
At first, the Crusaders planned to sail directly to the Holy Land (which again had fallen into Muslim hands), bypassing Constantinople altogether. Once that decision was made, the Western leaders tried to forge an alliance with the Republic of Venice. As the world’s foremost sea power at the time, Venice could furnish the Crusaders with transportation.
Enrico Dandolo, Doge of Venice, agreed to supply the Crusaders with ships “for the love of God” - and for a substantial fee. He also insisted that the Crusaders reward Venice for its devotion to the holy cause with half of all the land and loot that the Fourth Crusade yielded.
When the Crusaders assembled on an island off Venice, the Venetians suddenly insisted on payment in advance. No one could produce enough funds, but the Venetians proposed a deal. They would provide the ships if the Crusaders first would retake the port city of Zara on the Adriatic, which was then the property of the king of Hungary. The Franks had to agree if the Crusade was to go on, and in November 1202, the expedition sailed for Zara. The assault took only five days. They returned Zara to Venice, and the Crusaders looted the city. There were no longer any doubts about the Venetians’ motives. Venice was not interested in the Holy Land or in holy causes. It wanted to secure control of the waters north of the Mediterranean, and it probably wanted Constantinople.
During that time, Alexius III ruled the Easter Empire. His younger cousin, who also had sought the throne and who also was named Alexius, had met Marquis Boniface of Montferrat, one of the leaders of the Western European Crusaders. After the Venetians and their allies had taken Zara, the emperor’s rival arrived and invited the troops to assist him in recovering the Byzantine throne. In exchange, he would place the Eastern Empire and throne under the religious domination of Rome. He also promised to contribute 200,000 silver marks to the Crusades and eventually to furnish 10,000 troops. The offer was made even more attractive by the riches of Constantinople itself. No city on earth promised greater rewards to looters and plunderers. The pope was not happy. He sincerely had hoped that this Crusade would restore the Holy Land to Christian domination, and the attack on the Christian city of Zara had infuriated him. (He also had excommunicated the Crusaders.) Nevertheless, young Alexius III’s offer, the approval of Boniface, and the vigorous support of the Venetians - who probably had had this in mind the whole time - outweighed the Pope’s objections, and the noncrusading Crusaders sailed for Constantinople.
The Crusaders regarded the Byzantines as their enemy and Constantinople as a fortress to be captured and stripped of loot. One of the participants in the Christian assault on the Christian city was a Frenchman, Geoffrey de Villehardouin, Chief of Staff to the Count of Champagne. Villehardouin kept a detailed chronicle of the events he witnessed. As far as he was concerned, the Crusaders were noble and just, and his report condemned the Byzantines, whom he called Greeks, while praising the Westerners. Nevertheless, any objective modern reader can understand the reality of the situation.
In June 1203, the fleet landed in Galata, the suburb of Constantinople beyond the Golden Horn. There was a chain extended across the famous inlet. After a bloody battle, the Europeans managed to seize the tower on Galata to which one end of the chain was fastened; they released the chain, and the Venetian ships sailed into the Golden Horn and filled the harbor of Constantinople.
The assault began from land and sea. According to Villehardouin’s description, the Crusaders always were brave, the Greeks alternately strong and cowardly, depending on the narration:
. . . [The] attack was stiff and good and fierce. By main strength certain knights and two sergeants got up the ladders and made themselves masters of the wall; and at least fifteen got upon the wall, and fought there, hand to hand, with axes and swords, and those within redoubled their efforts, and cast them out in very ugly sort, keeping two as prisoners. . . .
Meanwhile, the Doge of Venice had not forgotten to do his part, but had ranged his ships and transports and vessels in line, and that line was well three crossbow-shots in length; and the Venetians began to draw near to the part of the shore that lay under the walls and the towers. Then might you have seen the mangonels shooting from the ships and transports, and the crossbow bolts flying, and the bows letting fly their arrows deftly and well; and those within defending the walls and towers very fiercely; and the ladders on the ships coming so near that in many places swords and lances crossed; and the tumult and noise were so great that it seemed as if the very earth and sea were melting together. . . .
Now may you hear of a strange deed of prowess; for the Doge of Venice, who was an old man, and saw naught (seeing he was blind), stood, fully armed, on the prow of his galley, and had the standard of St. Mark before him; and he cried to his people to put him on land, or else that he would do justice upon their bodies with his hands. And so they did, for the galley was run aground, and they leapt therefrom, and bore the standard of St. Mark before him on to the land.
And when the Venetians saw the standard of St. Mark on land, and the galley of their lord touching ground before them, each held himself for shamed, and they all gat to the land; and those in the transports leapt forth, and landed; and those in the big ships got into barges, and made for the shore, each and all as best they could.
During the battle, the Byzantine defense was magnificent and might have succeeded, except that after two weeks, Emperor Alexius III became unnerved. Packing as much treasure as he could carry, he abdicated the throne and left through a gate in the land walls. The Byzantine soldiers then abandoned the defense, took Alexius III’s blind brother, Isaac (young Alexius’s father), from prison and placed him on the throne. Then they opened the gates to the city, and the Europeans entered. Young Alexius arrived and received the title of co-emperor, Alexius IV. To help the father and son secure their rule, the Crusaders agreed to remain until the spring.
The people of Constantinople resented their new emperors, did not like to deal with the Latins, and hated the presence of the Crusaders. The situation became even more tense because the Europeans were getting impatient to see the money that the emperor had promised them. When he persistently delayed, the Western leaders grew laxer in their support. In late winter, a general strike brought commerce to a halt. Arsonists set fire to government buildings. Finally, a group of Greek aristocrats seized the palace in February, strangled Alexius IV, reimprisoned Isaac (who died a few days later, probably of poison), and installed a nobleman, Mourtzouphlos, as emperor.
The people then turned their fury on the Crusaders. As a result, the Western leaders inside the city ordered the huge army stationed in Galata, Chalcedon, and the other suburbs to attack the city. To defend the walls now was almost impossible for the Byzantines because there were so many of the enemy already within the city. Mourtzouphlos, like Alexius III, fled. Now the city belonged to the troops who re-entered it virtually unopposed.
The Crusaders, who had forgotten the reason for the Crusades, butchered and burned and plundered. They set afire private homes in all parts of the city and stripped public buildings of their decorations. They killed the men, raped the women, and stored the young people in a church to be sold as slaves. They left nothing for the citizens, even ripping the clothing of the peasants from their backs. One writer reported that soldiers escorted a prostitute into Hagia Sophia, placed her on the throne, and sang lewd songs while they destroyed icons, ripped down mosaics, burned holy books, and got drunk from wine poured into sacred vessels. As Villehardouin described it:
The booty gained was so great that none could tell you the end of it:
gold and silver, and vessels and precious stones, and samite, and cloth of silk, and robes . . . , and ermine, and every choicest thing found upon the earth. . . . never, since the world was created, had so much booty been won in any city.
Every one took quarters where he pleased, and of lodgings there was no stint. So the host of the pilgrims and of the Venetians found quarters, and greatly did they rejoice and give thanks because of the victory God had vouchsafed to them - for those who before had been poor were now in wealth and luxury. . . .
Then was it proclaimed . . . that all the booty should be collected and brought together, as had been covenanted under oath and pain of excommunication. Three churches were appointed for the receiving of the spoils, and guards were set to have them in charge, both Franks and Venetians, the most upright that could be found.
Then each began to bring in such booty as he had taken, and to collect it together. And some brought in loyally, and some in evil sort, because covetousness, which is the root of all evil, let and hindered them. So from that time forth the covetous began to keep things back, and our Lord began to love them less. Ah God! how loyally they had borne themselves up to now! And well had the Lord God shown them that in all things He was ready to honor and exalt them above all people. But full oft do the good suffer for the sins of the wicked.
When things calmed down, they proclaimed Baldwin, Count of Flanders, emperor of the Latin Empire. At that time, the title didn't amount to much because Venice received three-eighths of Constantinople, plus a number of Byzantine cities and islands in the Aegean. Boniface received Macedonia and Thessalonica. They divided the stolen goods, and the Crusaders went home happy.
In the Balkans, throughout Thrace, and in Asia Minor, groups of displaced Byzantines very slowly began to retake their lands. One party retook Adrianople and then engineered a successful rebellion in Thessalonica. Another group in northwest Asia Minor established a government in exile and prepared for the retaking of Constantinople. The determination and efforts of the Byzantines to remain together as a people with a common law began to attract the attention and friendship of some powerful states. In 1261, the Genoese, competitors of the Venetians, signed a treaty of friendship with Michael Palaeologus, who hoped to retake the old capital.
Venetian sea power was formidable, and the dispersed Byzantines had little of their own to counter it. Thus, Emperor Michael VIII agreed to a number of alliances to prepare for the recapture of Constantinople. He achieved treaties with the Mongols and Bulgarians to fortify the western borders; an agreement with a Turkish sultan helped strengthen the Byzantine positions in the east; the Genoese alliance provided the naval support that was needed so desperately. All of these agreements were very costly. For example, the emperor had to agree to give the Genoese free access to many of the ports of the Straits and the Black Sea. But without this support, Michael VIII did not believe he would be able to recapture the lost city.
As it turned out, they recaptured Constantinople almost by accident. Michael VIII sent the Byzantine commander Alexius Strategopulus to keep watch over the Bulgarian frontier. Alexius chose a site near Constantinople to assemble his troops. Arriving there, the commander was surprised to find that the city was virtually unprotected. The Venetian fleet had departed with most of the city’s troops to attack an island in the Black Sea. Almost unresisted, the Byzantine forces marched into the city. The Eastern Empire once again had Constantinople as its capital.
But there really was very little left. There were no government institutions, no treasury, and no strong army. Flanked by the unsympathetic Latins to the west and the powerful Ottoman Turks to the east, weakened by the alliances they had formed, the Byzantines knew they were living on borrowed time and tried to make the best of it. The schools flourished briefly; the arts enjoyed a fruitful period. The city still managed to impress visitors.
The last emperor had the same name as the first: Constantine. He died in 1453 while bravely defending his city from the Ottoman Turks, led by their brilliant young sultan, Mehmet the Conqueror.
But the truth is that the Turks only finished what was started in 1204 when the Crusaders stripped, violated, and polluted Constantinople for no reason but greed. The city never recovered from that. The real assassins of the first great Christian city were not the hated infidel Turks. The real assassins were Christians.
In the summer of 1453, the great city on the Golden Horn was barren and exhausted. The troops of Mehmet the Conqueror had looted everything of value; they had secured their prisoners for transport to the slave markets of the East; and they were waiting to go home. In the daytime, inactivity made the moist, hot air seem quieter and more oppressive. The excitement of victory dissolved into homesickness and impatience, and the conquerors were bored.
This was no prize for Mehmet. He had directed his energy to capturing Constantinople; he had not given much thought to the life of the city after the siege. But he realized that the decay he saw enveloping his informally renamed Istanbul (which means simply “in the city” in Greek) was not a fitting sequel to the glorious and successful conquest.
Therefore, he sent the soldiers home, after inviting all who sought a new life to stay. Then he sent word to all parts of his realm that whoever might wish to settle in the new Muslim city would be given a home with a garden and vineyard as a gift of the sultan. Despite his generosity, not many people accepted his offer. Mehmet began to build new mosques, homes, and public buildings and to convert eight of the finest churches in the city into mosques; but labor was scarce, and progress was so slow that he began to grow impatient. He invited Greeks and other Christians to Istanbul and promised them an extraordinary degree of self-government. But when only a few Christians came, he extended the invitation to Jews and pagans. Still the city remained underpopulated, and the sultan ordered many thousands of Greek families to be moved to Istanbul, whether they wanted to come or not.
Western history has not been kind to the Turks. There have often been strained relations between Christian and Islamic peoples. Many European kings and leaders disguised their imperialistic designs under the false name of religion. “Cleansing” the Middle East of the “Infidels” too frequently has actually meant securing a commercial gateway to the Orient.
But the Christians of the fifteenth century who found themselves subjects of the Sultan Mehmet and his successors discovered that their new rulers were perhaps somewhat better than their former overlords. For example, the Turks virtually had enslaved the Greeks. Yet many of them, especially the peasants, quickly learned that the Muslim was a better master than the Venetians had been. Even though the Muslims regarded their Christian subjects as beneath contempt and compelled them to live in ghettos, they did allow the Christians to preserve their own language and run their own communities. This amounted to a measure of self-government that the Roman Catholics seldom had awarded the Orthodox.
With characteristic shrewdness, Mehmet realized that a benevolent if not precisely enlightened policy toward his Greek Orthodox subjects was wiser than a harsh one. If he tried to wipe out the Christians of Istanbul, he very well might help to close the breach between Roman and Eastern Christians that had been so valuable to Islam. Thus, as he ordered Christians to populate parts of the city, he also installed a patriarch, through whom the Greek Church exercised judicial powers over civic and legal matters concerning the Greek population.
Christians within the Ottoman Empire often were grateful to their Turkish masters and seldom rose up against them. When Macarios, Patriarch of Antioch, went to Moscow on a Church mission in the seventeenth century, he witnessed one of the many massacres that the Roman Catholic Poles had conducted against Eastern Orthodox Russians. “We all wept much,” he wrote to his parishioners, “over the thousands of martyrs who were killed by those impious wretches, the enemies of the faith. . . . O you infidels! O you monsters of impurity! O you hearts of stone! . . . [The Poles] have shown themselves more debased and wicked than the corrupt worshipers of idols, by their c
ruel treatment to Christians, thinking to abolish the very name of Orthodox. God perpetuate the Empire of the Turks forever and ever!” The cooperation of the priesthood helped the Turks rule Istanbul and the rest of the former Byzantine Empire with little resistance from within.
Mehmet II was to Istanbul what Constantine I had been to Constantinople. Like his Christian predecessor, the sultan did not reign during his city’s most glorious times, but he established a custodial attitude toward the city’s institutions that set a precedent for his successors. Traditionally, Muslim nations, and most particularly the Ottoman, with their nomadic tradition, did not recognize municipal institutions. The city itself was regarded as a necessary commercial and administrative center, but it never was a corporate entity. In other words, there were no “citizens” of a city, and nothing separated city people from the empire’s rural subjects. (The exception was the holy Muslim city of Mecca.)
In this respect, Mehmet departed from tradition. Perhaps he was announcing his intention to do so when he undertook to rebuild Hagia Sophia. Although the sultan added a minaret, which converted the great structure from a church to a mosque, he essentially retained the familiar shape of the edifice. While it was true that Mehmet wanted a new city, he also wanted one that was an enlargement of and not a replacement for Constantinople.
In 1462, the sultan restated his intention to make his capital city a cultural center by erecting a fine new mosque - the Mosque of the Fourth Hill. Like many important mosques, Mehmet’s was a complex of buildings consisting of a court for worship, several university buildings, and dormitories. They normally included madrasas - schools – with the mosques, but Mehmet determined that the Istanbul medreses would become the principal learning center of all Islam. He ordered the best teachers and most talented students in his realm to occupy his Court of Learning at Istanbul.
