The Fourth Crusade is
arguably the single most stupid multi-lateral policy the West took
since the fall of the Western Roman Empire. Although it’s not very
well-known (crusades conjure up images of Templars in the Holy Land,
although crusades also occurred in Eastern Europe and against the
Cathars in France), it had dramatic implications for the short term,
and enormous implications in the long term.
For reasons of trade,
Venice was not best friends with Byzantium, capital of the Eastern
Roman Empire, in the early 13th century. An ever-widening
religious gulf between the Western Latin Church and Eastern Orthodox
Church meant that there was also a great deal of rivalry within
Christendom.
And so, when the Fourth
Crusade appeared in financial difficulty, Enrico Dandolo, the
ancient, blind Doge of Venice, played a pivotal role. In return for
funding, he diverted the Crusade to Byzantium. Not only was this
helpful for Venice, Byzantium, despite being on the ropes in the
years leading up to the Crusade, was immensely rich. If it fell,
there would be enough booty to satisfy every man who partook in the
city’s conquest.
Byzantium, at this
stage in history, was suffering. The Ottomans were making continual
progress in the East, and the glory days of Nicephorus Phocas, John
Tzimisces, Basil II, and Alexius and John Comnenus seemed very long
ago. The ironically entitled Angeli dynasty had been steadily
buggering the Empire’s fortunes through a combination of stupidity
and ill fortune.
By contrast, Dandolo
was a brilliant, persuasive, energetic man, despite his advanced
years (he was over 90 at the time of the Fourth Crusade). Under his
leadership, the Fourth Crusade did what no-one else (until the advent
of gunpowder) ever managed. Byzantium, despite its invincible land
walls, was conquered.
The leadership of the
city fled to establish an empire-in-exile, occupying what remained of
Roman territory in Anatolia (modern day Turkey). Meanwhile, the Latin
potentates and Dandolo plundered the city and carved up the rest of
the Empire between themselves.
It was a great success,
especially for Venice. Or so it seemed.
In time, the Latin
leaders set to squabbling. They didn’t understand the culture or
religion of the land they were trying to govern, and their less than
subtle approach did not universally endear them to the Byzantines.
The empire-in-exile reclaimed the city. But it took several decades,
and came at great cost.
During this time, the
Turks did not sit about. They, naturally, took advantage of the
situation to advance. The greatest (indeed, only) bulwark against
their expansion from the east had been Byzantium, and the Empire,
which rapidly diminished to a mere city-state, never recovered even a
shadow of its former power. The Fourth Crusade had shattered
Byzantium, and the next two and a half centuries were a lingering
death.
When Byzantium truly
fell, in the mid-15th century, it was not to the advantage
of the Latin Church or Venice. Precious little help was given to
defend the city (although a few men did heed the desperate plea).
After it fell, the Ottoman expansion continued for centuries, halting
only at the gates of Vienna in 1683.
As I mentioned,
Byzantium had been on the ropes even before the Crusade. But it’s
also worth noting that it had had dodgy moments and recovered before
(between Basil II and Alexius Comnenus were many years and numerous
unimpressive emperors). After the Fourth Crusade, it was in perpetual
decline. And not because the Ottomans had struck a decisive blow. But
because the Fourth Crusade had done so on their behalf.
Thank goodness we don’t
make short-sighted decisions for narrow-minded self-interest any
more.
Thaddeus