Complete Text | Introduction | Book 1 | Book 2 | Book 3 | Book 4 | Book 5 | Book 6 | Book 7
CONTENTS
PREFACE page V
INTRODUCTION by Professor J.M. Hussey [p.1]
THE CHRONOGRAPHIA
BOOK ONE:
BASIL II 976 - 1025 [p.11]BOOK TWO:
CONSTANTINE VIII 1025 - 1028 [p.31]BOOK THREE:
ROMANUS III 1028 - 1034 [p.39]BOOK FOUR:
MICHAEL IV 1034 - 1041 [p.57]BOOK FIVE:
MICHAEL V 1041 - 1042 [p.85]
THEODORA 1042 [p.103]BOOK SIX:
ZOE AND THEODORA 1042 [p.113]
CONSTANTINE IX 1042 - 1055 [p.119]
THEODORA 1055 - 1056 [p.197]BOOK SEVEN:
MICHAEL VI 1056-1057 [p.209]
ISAAC COMNENUS 1057-1059 [p.230]
CONSTANTINE X 1059-1067 [p.253]
EUDOCIA 1067 [p.264]
ROMANUS IV 1068-1071 [p.268]
MICHAEL VII 1071-1078 [p.281]BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTE [p.291]
NOTES [p.293] [in etext placed at end of each chapter]
APPENDIX I. THE MACEDONIAN HOUSE [p.312]
APPENDIX II.
THE HOUSE OF COMNENUS.
THE HOUSE OF DUCAS [p.313]INDEX [p.315] [not in etext version]
SOME three years ago I reviewed an excellent little volume written by Professor Norman Baynes, The Hellenistic Civilization and East Rome. In it he mentions Michael Psellus's famous anecdote about the Byzantine Sclerena and Constantine IX. Being curious to know more of Psellus I bought the Bude edition and read the Chronographia in full. That is how this translation was born, for it seemed to me a pity that English scholars who knew no Greek should be deprived of the opportunity of reading this admirable work in their own language. Students of medieval history in particular should benefit. Certainly no other contemporary author gives so vivid an account of eleventh-century Byzantium. I hope that this pioneer effort may inspire others to read and enjoy him.
I would like here to acknowledge my debt to M. Emile Renauld, who first translated the history into a modern language. Although this interpretation differs in many points from the French version, his influence will be apparent. I am grateful too for the kindly interest and constant encouragement of Mr. R. H. Barrow, C.B.E., and of Mr. W. F. Jackson Knight, whose scholarship extends far beyond the Virgilian field in which he especially shines. When I first undertook the work, the late Dr. W. H. D. Rouse gave me sound advice, and as I neared the end, Professor Arthur E. Gordon, of the University of California, offered some valuable criticism. To both of them I am deeply indebted. Needless to say, none of these gentlemen can be held responsible for the imperfections which must creep into so long a work.
Above all I am grateful to Professor J. M. Hussey, who not only consented to write the Introduction to this book, but found time to revise my notes, added the short bibliography, and made some useful suggestions which improved the text.
E. R. A. S.
Newbury, Berkshire.
9 October 1952.
GIBBON'S legend of a decadent East Roman Empire dies hard in ordinary English circles. But research of the last half century should by now have made it abundantly clear that Byzantine civilization can hold its own in the medieval world. That is not to deny that it had its ups and downs and changed a good deal in character in the course of more than a thousand years. The eleventh century, in which Michael Psellus lived, was a crucial time, not because of the fact of its acute political difficulties -- after all, the Empire had faced danger time and again -- but because it was now brought up against certain new and ominous developments both within and without which it failed to control, and hence its total downfall in the fifteenth century may be traced back to this period. Now and then Psellus shows partial understanding of such dangers, as for instance when he comments on the vital importance of Constantinople's military defenses, but he could not foretell the gathering impetus of the western crusading movement which so violently disrupted Byzantine life in the Aegean world, nor did he realize that the Seljuk Turks were preparing the way for the almost complete loss of the Empire's great storehouse, Asia Minor, or that the rumblings in the Balkans were to herald the growth and emancipation of the young Slav nations. After all, he was living and writing in the heyday of the eleventh century when the disastrous turn in imperial fortunes was scarcely perceptible, and when Constantinople could still to some extent bask in the accumulated glories of the great days of the tenth century with its classical revival and its expansion of the frontiers. And indeed whatever weaknesses might have alarmed a discerning eye in the years to follow, satisfaction could always be found in the steady maintenance and development of cultural activities, certain aspects of which were passionately near to Psellus's heart.
Whatever his father's claims to aristocratic forebears, Michael Psellus grew up in the milieu of a middle-class family. His writings, [2] and particularly his funeral oration for his mother, reveal a fair amount about his childhood and his own personal appearance and castes. In physique he resembled his father who had merry eyes and well defined eyebrows and was handsome as a 'well-grown cypress'. But his father's even-tempered disposition and quiet way of life, moving from day to day as silently and smoothly 'as flowing oil', were not inherited by the son. In outlook and temperament he was more like his mother who was clearly the mainspring of the family. Psellus says that she was attractive and 'like the rose needed no further adornment'; she was also energetic, of quick intelligence, and above all a devout Christian. She certainly bequeathed her dynamic qualities to her son, though his subtlety of approach was in contrast to her more simple adherence to the Christian faith, and his achievements in intellectual fields, however much they owed to her early efforts and encouragement, were in substance his alone.
Born in Constantinople in 1018 he grew into an exceedingly alert, intelligent child and he was brought up on Homer as Greek children were and are. His mother managed to prolong his education until he was in his teens and then the need to provide a dowry for his sister made it difficult to support him any longer. He became a clerk to a provincial judge, but on the unexpected death of his sister he returned to Constantinople and continued his studies. He was taught by John Mauropous, afterwards Archbishop of Euchaita, but then a private tutor in Constantinople. John, both from Psellus and from other sources, is revealed as a single-minded scholar and a man of great integrity. He evidently coached a number of clever young men, all of whom later made their mark and remained firm friends with each other and with their tutor. John Xiphilinus became Head of the Faculty of Law in the University of Constantinople, then monk and Abbot of a monastery in Asia Minor, and finally Patriarch of Constantinople. Constantine Ducas, another well-known member of the group, eventually succeeded to the throne as Constantine X. Constantine Psellus - he later changed the name of Constantine for that of Michael by which he is usually known - managed to make his way in court circles and the story of his rise to power can be read in his Chronographia and filled out from other contemporary sources.*
* For a recent short summary of Psellus's career see P. Joannou, Psellos et le monastère Ta Narsoà, Byzantinische Zeitschrift vol. 44 (1951), pp. 283-90.
The two predominating passions of Psellus's life were to get on in [3] the world and to promote scholarship and learning. This first characteristic is probably what emerges most plainly from his Chronographia. With repeated apologies he is always describing the importance of his own position, the extent to which imperial personages depend on him, and he likes to add digressions designed to reveal his own private feelings and to underline the significance of his efforts towards achieving more effective higher education. It may be doubted how reliable an adviser he made on matters of state, but the fact that he served a long series of eleventh-century rulers until 1077 is a tribute to his Personality as well as to his adaptability. Psellus has to admit to at least one unfortunate episode in his political career which he glosses over in the Chronographia as best he can. Threatened with a reversal at court towards the end of Constantine IX's reign, he thought it judicious to absent himself for a time. The natural thing for a Byzantine in such circumstances was monastic retirement which might or might not prove permanent. Psellus soon realized his total lack of vocation and returned to the secular world as soon as it was safe to do so. Far otherwise with his friend and companion Xiphilinus, who had indeed found his way of life. Their experiences are described in more detail elsewhere in Psellus's writings. Psellus had evidently thought of the monastery simply in terms of a comfortable background for a series of Socratic dialogues in the cloisters between himself and his fellow scholar, and is half teased, half reproached by Xiphilinus for his mistake.
Psellus's two most attractive traits are his loyalty to his friends and his devotion to scholarship. All his life Psellus stuck to his early friends, men of character and achievement very different from his own. John, his old teacher, was almost dragged to imperial notice and then for a time held a lectureship in the University at Psellus's nomination. Xiphilinus and Psellus remained in close touch, though after the monastic episode their paths forked and their differences of outlook became more apparent, but it evidently cut Psellus to the quick to be accused by Xiphilinus of unwise concentration on Platonic studies, and he was swift to prove his orthodoxy and reinstate himself in his old friend's good opinion. Constantine Ducas when he became Emperor in 1059 had not lost touch with the friend of forty years ago and he eventually showed his confidence in Psellus by making him his son's tutor -- unfortunately for the Empire as it turned out, for the young man trained up on the lines of a [4] philosopher-king as visualized by Psellus proved useless at defending frontiers against invading Turks or Normans and had to abdicate.
Psellus's most fruitful efforts were in promoting higher education and in the influence of his own written works. His was the driving force behind the reorganization of the State University of Constantinople in 1045 and in this connection his influence in imperial circles was used to good effect. There were evidently available both a number of educated men to act as lecturers and a student body wishing to use opportunities of this kind, so that Psellus's extravagant remarks in the Chronographia on his uphill task and Anna Comnena's caustic comments in the Alexiad on the low ebb to which learning had sunk in the eleventh century cannot be taken entirely at their face value. Not that the effect of Psellus's dynamic personality can be denied, nor should his work in stimulating interest in Platonic studies be underestimated. It was not for nothing that Xiphilinus implied that he was making a god of his Plato'. Psellus's philosophical leanings can be discerned here and there in the Chronographia, but it is only from the complete corpus of his works that his activities and academic interests can be fully reconstructed. Philosophy, with special emphasis on Platonism, was conceived as the crown and summit of the scholar's life. Yet Psellus when challenged was the first to admit that such activity was visualized only within, and therefore to some extent limited by, the accepted Christian framework. It would moreover be inaccurate to imagine that Psellus was interested in philosophical to the exclusion of all other pursuits. He was concerned with Christian theology, with the Christian interpretation of the universe, he shared, for instance, the almost universal belief in miracles however much he protested against magical practices, and was evidently well versed in contemporary views on the demon world. He often clothed his thoughts in what seems to us to be a flood of rhetoric, particularly in his speeches and letters. But he had an eye for detail, he was a shrewd judge of human nature, and he could produce fine, balanced, accurate prose portraits of his contemporaries. The Chronographia speaks for itself and can more than hold its own with similar contemporary literature of the Latin world.
In his introduction to the Chronographia Psellus explains that he had often been pressed to write a history of his own times and that he finally agreed to produce a brief sketch at the special request of a [5] great friend. This friend, 'most beloved of all men' as Psellus calls him remains unnamed but may have been Constantine Lichudes, a companion of his student days who had risen to high office under Constantine IX and had become Patriarch of Constantinople in 1059. Lichudes as Patriarch had been persuaded to support those who accused Psellus of failing to observe his monastic vows and had detained him in the monastery of Narsou near the western walls of the city. Psellus may have wished to conciliate him by writing the history which he asked for. The Chronographia however goes beyond 1063, the year of Lichudes' death.*
* Cf. Chronographia, VIIa, 5 (p. 254), and VIIc, II (p. 285).
The work falls into two distinct sections of which the first takes up the story where the tenth-century historian Leo the Deacon stopped at Basil II's accession to power in 976 and goes as far as the abdication of Isaac Comnenus in 1059. This is the more important and the more impartial section. The second part, probably written late in Michael VII's reign -- for Psellus says in it that he has seen Michael's little son who was born in 1075 -- is less critical in tone and full of lavish appreciation of the Ducas family and regime. This may be regrettable, but it is understandable, for Psellus was writing of contemporary politics in which he himself was concerned. He cannot for instance be absolved from a grave error of judgment in supporting the unfortunate overthrow of the Emperor Romanus IV Diogenes in 1071, but he would have been almost superhuman if he had presented posterity with a critical account of his own actions and those of the imperial Ducas family with whom he had such intimate associations.
Despite this unevenness of treatment between the two sections, the Chronographia remains history of a high order. Psellus had clear views on the function of a historian. His aim should be the presentation of truth, either from the evidence of reliable records and witnesses or from his own first-hand experiences. And so Psellus tries to give an impartial account, at any rate in the first section of his work, and subsequent events in the Empire's history often confirmed his shrewd criticisms and prognostications. But no sense of the historian's high vocation and essential impartiality could damp the racy individualism of Psellus's approach nor the delicate artistry of his style and language. His enlivening devices, his literary resources, his rich and varied vocabulary, are all revealed in the elegant brilliance and swift movement of his picture of Byzantine life. His descriptions of per [6] sonalities have become famous, and in two cases at any rate his accuracy and fullness of detail have been confirmed by the recent uncovering of the imperial portraits in mosaic work decorating St. Sophia, the cathedral of Constantinople. Here in the south gallery, when the layers of Turkish plaster were removed, the elderly Empress Zoe was revealed, with her unwrinkled skin and plump cheeks, her pencilled eyebrows and made-up features, just as Psellus had known her. Standing on the other side of the enthroned Christ was her third husband, Constantine IX Monomachus, also corresponding closely to Psellus's description of the kindly, affectionate, and on occasion frivolous, ruler who had been his chief patron.
Much else can be found in the Chronographia besides lifelike portraits of individuals (including one of the author himself). There is a good deal of both direct and indirect information on the Byzantine conception of the imperial office, and there are some hints on the relation between Emperor and Patriarch (though Psellus is on this occasion very discreet in writing about the Patriarch Michael Cerularius who challenged the accepted interdependence of church and state). The Christian background and the workings of a divine Providence are assumed; great emphasis is placed on a good education and a right appreciation of the intellectual heritage of the Hellenic world. Much is omitted. This is particularly true of political and administrative history, especially foreign policy, but such information can often be found in other, and less lively, histories of the period and must in any case be supplemented from sources of a different nature. The picture can be filled out from such records as documents, usually either imperial or monastic, from literary writings both secular and ecclesiastical, and above all from the monuments of the period, whether mosaics in St. Sophia or the more remote but no less impressive work surviving in such monastic churches as that of St. Luke in Phocis.
But whatever its defects and inadequacies there can be no substitute for the Chronographia itself. A twelfth-century satirist who imagined the descent of Psellus to the realm of the underworld, described the warmth with which he was welcomed by other scholars already there. And with good reason. Michael Psellus must have been a first-rate companion (whether in this world or the next) and he was certainly an entertaining writer.
J. M. HUSSEY.
[7]
THE CHRONOGRAPHIA OF
MICHAEL PSELLUS
A.D. 976-1077The Chronographia composed by the most learned and right honourable monk Michael, in which are recounted the deeds of the following Emperors: Basil and Constantine, the Porphyrogeniti; their successor, Romanus Argyropulus; Michael the Paphlagonian; Michael, nephew of the last-named, who originally had the title of Caesar; the two sisters Zoe and Theodora, also Porphyrogenitiae and both princesses; Constantine Monomachus, who shared the throne with them; the princess Theodora, one of the aforementioned sisters, who ruled as Empress alone; Michael the Aged; Isaac Comnenus. The History ends with the proclamation of Constantine Ducas.
[11]
BASIL II
976 - 10251. The circumstances in which the emperor John Tzimisces met his death have already been described (in the history of Leo Diaconus).**1 Basil and Constantine, the sons of Romanus,**2 were now the legitimate heirs to an Empire which through the efforts of their predecessor had won many triumphs and greatly increased its power.
2. Both princes had seen the last of their boyhood days, but their interests lay far apart, for whereas Basil, the elder of the two, always gave an impression of alertness, intelligence, and thoughtfulness, his brother was to all appearances apathetic, passing a lazy existence, and devoted to a life of luxury. It was natural, therefore, that they should abandon the idea of a diarchy. By mutual consent all real power was vested in Basil, and Constantine was associated with him as emperor in name only. It was a wise decision, for if the Empire was to be well governed it was essential that the older and more experienced brother should inherit the highest position in the state. There is perhaps something admirable in Constantine's renunciation of most of his privileges on this occasion, because legally he was entitled to share his father's inheritance on equal terms with his brother--and by 'inheritance' I mean the Empire. What makes his decision the more remarkable is the fact that he was very young at the time, just at the age, in fact, when lust for power is most easily kindled. One must remember, too, that Basil, far from being already a full-grown man, was still a mere stripling: to use the common expressions he was still 'growing his first beard', and yet Constantine [12] allowed him to take precedence. It is only right, therefore, that I should pay this tribute to the younger brother at the outset of this history.
3. Once invested with supreme power over the Romans, Basil was loath to share his designs with anyone else or to accept advice on the conduct of public affairs. On the other hand, having had no previous experience of military matters or of good civil administration, he discovered that he was unable to rely on his own judgment alone, and he was therefore compelled to turn for assistance to the parakoimomenus* [* Lord Chamberlain.] Basil.**3 Now this man happened to be at that time the most remarkable person in the Roman Empire, both for the depth of his intellect and for his bodily stature and regal appearance. Although he was born of the same father as the father of Basil and Constantine, on his mother's side he came of different stock. In early infancy he had suffered castration--a natural precaution against a concubine's son, for under those circumstances he could never hope to usurp the throne from a legitimate heir. Actually he was resigned to his fate and was genuinely attached to the imperial house--after all, it was his own family. He was particularly devoted to his nephew Basil, embracing the young man in the most affectionate manner and watching over his progress like some kindly fosterparent. It is not surprising, then, that Basil placed on this man's shoulders the burden of Empire. The older man's serious nature, too, had its influence on the emperor's character. The parakoimomenus, in fact, was like an athlete competing at the gamest while Basil the emperor watched him as a spectator, not a spectator present merely to cheer on the victor, but rather one who trained himself in the running and took part in the contests himself, following in the other's footsteps and imitating his style. So the parakoimomenus had the whole world at his feet. It was to him that the civilian population looked, to him that the army turned and he was responsible, indeed solely responsible, for the administration of public finance and the direction of government. In this task he was constantly assisted by the emperor, both in word and deeds for Basil not only backed up his minister's measures, but even confirmed them in writing.
4. To most men of our generation who saw the emperor Basil he seemed austere and abrupt in manner, an irascible man who did not quickly change his mind, sober in his daily habits and averse to all [13] effeminacy, but if I am to believe the historians of that period who wrote about him, he was not at all like that when his reign began. A change took place in his character after he acceded to the throne, and instead of leading his former dissolute, voluptuous sort of life, he became a man of great energy. It was the pressure of events that brought about this complete alteration in the course of his life. His character stiffened, so to speak. Feebleness gave way to strength and the old slackness disappeared before a new fixity of purpose. In his early days he used to feast quite openly, and frequently indulged in the pleasures of love. His main concern was with his banqueting and his life was spent in the gay, indolent atmosphere of the court. The combination of youth and unlimited power gave him opportunities for self-indulgence and he enjoyed them to the full. The complete change in his mode of living dates from the attempted revolutions of the notorious Sclerus**4 and of Phocas.**5 Sclerus twice raised the standard of revolt and there were other aspirants to the throne, with two parties in opposition to the emperor. From that time onward, Basil's carefree existence was forgotten and he wholeheartedly applied himself to serious objects. Once the first blow had been struck against those members of his family who had seized power, he set himself resolutely to compass their utter destruction.**6
THE REBELLION OF SCLERUS
5. A policy so drastic, not unnaturally, stirred the nephews of Nicephorus Phocas to bitter revolt. The trouble began with Sclerus, a man who was not only a competent planner, but extremely clever in carrying out his schemes, possessed of vast wealth (no mean asset in one who aimed at a throne), with the prestige of royal blood and of success in great wars, with all the military caste at his side to help on his enterprise. Sclerus's attempted coup d'état found considerable support. It was the first of these daring efforts to depose Basil, but the pretender was very confident of victory. He marched against the emperor in full force, with cavalry and foot-soldiers, thinking he had but to stretch forth his hand to seize the Empire. Actually, the heavy-armed infantry had rallied to Sclerus en bloc and the emperor's advisers, knowing this, at first believed their cause to be hopeless. On second thoughts, however, they changed their minds and the whole affair took on a different aspect. Despair gave way to courage [14] when in a certain Bardas they thought they had discovered a worthy opponent for the rebel.**7 To them Bardas represented a safe anchorage, a shelter from the storm. He was, indeed, a man of noble birth and great valour, nephew of the emperor Nicephorus. So they entrusted to this Bardas whatever forces still remained. He was made commander-in-chief and sent forth to do battle with the common enemy.
6. Their immediate difficulties were thus overcome, but their new general was no less formidable than Sclerus. He was descended from an emperor. In all probability he would never be content to occupy a subordinate position. So they stripped him of his citizen's robes and all insignia of royalty, and forced him to enter the Church. Then they bound him by the most fearful oaths never to be guilty of treason, never to transgress the promises he had made. Having taken these precautions against any ambitious schemes he might entertain in the future, they sent him out with the whole of the emperor's forces.
7. According to the historians, this man Bardas reminded people of his uncle, the emperor Nicephorus, for he was always wrapped in gloom, and watchful, capable of foreseeing all eventualities, of comprehending everything at a glance. Far from being ignorant of warlike manoeuvres, there was no aspect of siege warfare, no trick of ambush nor tactic of pitched battle, in which he was not thoroughly versed. In the matter of physical prowess, moreover, Bardas was more energetic and virile than Sclerus. In fact, anyone who received a blow at his hand was a dead man straightway, and whole armies trembled even when he shouted from afar. He now divided up his forces, arranging them in battalions, and more than once--indeed, on several occasions--put his opponents to flight, despite their numbers. In truth, Bardas seemed to surpass his enemies, in skill and strategy and vigour, in inverse proportion to his own inferiority in numbers.
8. Each side was confident in face of its foes, and the two leaders, by common consent, decided to engage in single combat.**8 So, riding out to the space that divided the two lines of battle, they spied one another and without more ado came to close quarters. The rebel Sclerus, unable to curb his natural impetuosity, broke the rules of this kind of fighting, and as he approached Phocas struck him with all his might on the head. The blow gained additional power because it was delivered on the charge. Phocas, dumbfounded at the [15] unexpectedness of this stroke, momentarily lost control of his reins, but collecting his wits again, he returned the blow, on the same part of his adversary's body. The latter thereupon lost interest in the combat and rode away in flight.
9. Both patriots and rebels were convinced that here was the decisive point in the war. Certainly no event contributed more to the emperor's victory, for Sclerus was completely embarrassed. He could no longer withstand Phocas in battle. He was too ashamed to beg terms from the emperor. In these circumstances he adopted a policy which was neither very wise nor very safe, transferring his whole army from Roman territories to Assyria. There he made himself known to the king Chosroes and roused his suspicions, for Chosroes feared the great numbers of his army, and possibly he was nervous, too, in case the Romans planned some sudden attack on himself. The upshot of the matter was that all Sclerus's men were made prisoners and carried off to gaol.
THE REVOLT OF BARDAS PHOCAS
10. Meanwhile Bardas Phocas returned to the emperor. He was given the privilege of a triumph and took his place among the personal friends of his sovereign. So ended the first revolt. Apparently Basil was now freed from all his troubles, but this seeming collapse of the opposition proved to be only a prelude to the host of evils that were to follow. Phocas, after receiving high honours when he first returned to Byzantium, later found himself neglected. His ambitions appeared to be once more slipping from his grasp. This kind of treatment, in his opinion, was undeserved. He had not betrayed the trust reposed in him: he had entered into an agreement, on specific terms, and he had faithfully kept it. So, disgruntled, he broke away in revolt--a revolt more serious and more difficult to counter than the previous attempt of Sclerus--with the greater part of the army ranged beside him in opposition to Basil.**9 Having won over the leading and most powerful families, he decided to proclaim himself an open enemy of the regime. An army of Iberians was conscripted, fierce, proud warriors standing up to ten feet in height.* [* i.e. very tall. A Byzantine saying.] It was no longer in imagination, but in very truth, that he put on the imperial robes, with the emperor's crown and the royal insignia of purple. [16]
11. I will describe what happened next. A foreign war surprised the Babylonian, that same king Chosroes to whom Sclerus and his army had fled and from whom they had hoped for assistance. Those hopes, as I have said, had already been dashed. Well, this war proved to be a terrible strain on the king's resources and great numbers of armed men were involved in the struggle. It was impossible for Chosroes to feel any confidence in his own native forces without foreign aid. So he turned for help to the exiled Romans. They were at once released from their bonds, brought out of their prisons, strongly armed and set in battle-array against his enemies. They (Sclerus and his men), being virile and warlike soldiers, acquainted with the disposition of infantry in battle, arranged themselves in two groups, one on either flank. Then, charging on horseback in mass-formation and shouting their war-cry, they killed some of the enemy there on the spot and others they put to flight. The pursuit continued as far as the earthworks and the foe was completely annihilated.**10 On their way back the Romans, as if inspired with one common idea, took to flight themselves. The reason for this was that they feared Chosroes. They expected little consideration from him and they believed that he would throw them back into prison. So they made off, with all the speed they could muster, and they covered a great distance before the Assyrians noticed they had gone. (These operations took place in Assyria.) Chosroes, whose army had now reassembled, immediately issued an order that all soldiers of the Assyrian army who met these Romans were to join in pursuing them. A great multitude did in fact fall upon them from the rear, but they soon discovered how inferior they were to the Roman soldier, for the runaways suddenly wheeled about and defeated their pursuers. Indeed, the enemy suffered such losses that they retreated fewer in number than the Romans, although they had vastly outnumbered them when the engagement started.
12. Here, Sclerus decided, was the opportunity to revive his struggle for power. The whole Empire, he thought, was ripe for the plucking, for Phocas had already gone away to Anatolia and all the emperor's forces were scattered. Having arrived at the Roman frontier, however, he learnt that Phocas had designs on the throne himself, and since he was in no position to take on both the emperor and his rival, he indulged in a fresh outburst of insolence at the expense of the former, while he presented himself to the latter in the [17] guise of vassal. Phocas's hegemony was recognized and Sclerus agreed to serve under him. Thereupon their forces were divided in two and the rebel army was greatly strengthened. Full of confidence in their soldiers and military dispositions, they came down as far as the Propontis and strongpoints on the seashore, made their entrenchments secure and all but tried to leap over the sea itself.
13. The emperor Basil was well aware of disloyalty among the Romans, but not long before this a picked band of Scythians had come to help him from the Taurus, and a fine body of men they were.**11 He had these men trained in a separate corps, combined with them another mercenary force, divided by companies, and sent them out to fight the rebels. They came upon the insurgents unexpectedly, when they were off their guard seated at table and drinking, and after they had destroyed not a few of them, scattered the rest in all directions.**12 The remnants of the enemy actually banded together and opposed Phocas himself, with considerable enthusiasm.
14. Basil personally took part in these operations with the Roman army. He had just begun to grow a beard and was learning the art of war from experience in actual combat. Even his brother Constantine took his place in the battle-line, armed with breastplate and long spear.
15. So the two faced one another: on the one side, by the sea, the emperor's forces; on the higher parts, the rebels, with a great space between. When Phocas discovered that Basil and Constantine were in the enemy's ranks, he no longer put off the battle.**13 That day, he decided, was to be the turning-point of the war, the day which was to determine the future of the Empire. So he committed his cause to fortune. It was contrary to the advice of the astrologers in his retinue, for they would have dissuaded him from fighting. Their sacrifices clearly showed the folly of it, but he gave rein to his horse and obstinately refused to listen. It is said that signs of ill-omen appeared to him, as well as to the astrologers, for no sooner had he mounted his horse than the charger slipped under him, and when he seated himself on a second, that too, a few paces further on, suffered the same fate. His skin, moreover, changed colour, his heart was filled with foreboding, and his head was troubled with giddiness. Phocas, however, was not the man to give way once he had set himself to a task, so, riding at the head of his army, and being already somewhat near the emperor's forces, he gathered about him some foot-soldiers. [18] The men I refer to were the finest fighters among the Iberians, all of them young men, just growing their first beards, in the flower of their youth, tall men and men of equal height, as though they had been measured off with a ruler, armed on their right with swords, and irresistible when they charged. With these warriors about him, under one standard, Phocas moved foreward to attack in front of his army. Gathering speed, he made straight for the emperor with a wild war-cry, his sword uplifted in his right hand, as if he intended to kill the emperor there and then.
16. While Phocas was so boldly charging towards him, Basil rode out in front of his army too. He took his stand there, sword in hand. In his left hand he clasped the image of the Saviour's Mother, thinking this ikon the surest protection against his opponent's terrific onslaught. Phocas swept on, like a cloud driven on by violent winds, whirling over the plain. Meanwhile those who were stationed on either flanks hurled their javelins at him. Among others, slightly in front of the main army, was the emperor Constantine, brandishing a long spear. After he had galloped forward some distance from his own men, Phocas suddenly slipped from his saddle and was thrown to the ground. At this point the accounts of different authors become contradictory. Some contend that he was hit by the javelin-throwers and fell mortally wounded. Others aver that he was overcome by a sudden faintness, the effect of a stomach disorder, and so fell down from the saddle. Whatever the true explanation may have been, Constantine arrogated to himself the proud distinction of having slain the rebel. The usual story, however, and the one considered to be most probable, is that the whole affair was the result of an intrigue. Poison was mixed, Phocas drank it, and when he moved about, the potion became suddenly effective, deprived him of his powers of reason, and caused the giddiness that led to his downfall. The original idea was Basil's, the ministering hand that of Phocas's cupbearer. For my own part, I prefer to express no opinion on the subject and ascribe all the glory to the Mother of the Word.
17. At all events, he fell, he who until then could neither be wounded nor taken alive, a piteous and mournful sight. As soon as the rival armies saw what had happened, the one was immediately split up and retreated, their close-packed ranks broken, their rout complete. The emperor's forces, on the other hand, immediately after Phocas's collapse, leapt upon him, scattered his Iberian body- [19] guard, and chopped him in pieces with repeated sword-blows. His head was cut off and brought to Basil.**14
18. The complete change in the emperor's character dates from that time. While he rejoiced at the death of his enemy, he was no less grieved by the sad condition of his own affairs, with the result that he became suspicious of everyone, a haughty and secretive man, ill-tempered, and irate with those who failed to carry out his wishes.
THE FALL AND BANISHMENT OF THE
PARAKOIMOMENUS BASIL **1519. Far from allowing the parakoimomenus Basil to continue in his general supervision of the government, the emperor, from now on, decided to supervise himself. Further, he proceeded to pursue his minister with a relentless hatred, which he showed in all manner of ways, and refused to see him. Although the parakoimomenus was a relative, although the emperor was greatly indebted to him and the minister had done good service, at no little inconvenience to himself, and despite the very high office in the state that he held, Basil regarded him as an enemy. Nothing on earth would persuade him to change this attitude. The truth is, it offended his pride to think that he, the emperor and a full-grown man, should be allowed only a share in the government, as if he were an ordinary citizen. One would imagine he had never ascended the throne, but shared authority on equal terms with another man, or held inferior rank in the government. He gave the subject considerable thought, and it was only after much vacillation that he finally made up his mind. Once the decision was taken, however, he dismissed the parakoimomenus and deposed him at one blow. What made it worse was the fact that this change in the latter's fortunes was not softened by any sign of respect: in fact, the emperor's action was incredibly cruel, for he shipped him off into exile.
20. Nor did this disgrace prove to be the end of Basil's troubles. Rather was it the prelude to further misfortunes, for the emperor next proceeded to review the events of his reign ever since he acceded to the throne and the parakoimomenus began to govern the Empire. He examined the various measures that had been taken during all that period. Whatever happened to contribute to his own (the emperor's) welfare, or to the good of the state, was allowed to remain on the [20] statutes. All those decrees, on the other hand, which referred to the granting of glamours or positions of dignity, were now rescinded. The former, the emperor contended, had been approved by himself: of the latter he knew nothing. In everything he strove to bring about the eunuch's downfall and disaster. For example, the parakoimomenus had built a magnificent monastery in honour of Basil the Great, a monastery that bore his own name too. It had been constructed on a tremendous scale, at great cost of labour, and it combined different styles of architecture with beauty. Moreover, the greater part of the material used in its building had been obtained from generous voluntary contributions. The emperor now wished to raze this edifice to the ground. However, since he was careful to avoid the charge of impiety, only certain parts of the monastery were removed, and not all those at once. Other parts he demolished, and the rest of the building, the movable furniture and the mosaics, he treated in much the same way. He never rested content until, to quote his own jesting words, 'he had made of this place of meditation a place of thought-- the thought which those who dwelt there would now have to take for the bare necessities of life !'
21. Naturally, the parakoimomenus, tortured like this day after day, was filled with despair. There was no relief for his suffering, no consolation whatever. Suddenly cast down, in one brief moment, from his great position of power, this high and mighty man, whose heart had once been filled with pride, now became unable to govern his own body. His limbs were paralysed and he a living corpse. Not long afterwards he died, in very truth a pillar of remembrance, his life a fine subject for story-tellers, or shall I say a proof of the fickleness of all worldly fortune. Basil the parakoimomenus had fulfilled his destiny.
22. Let us return to the emperor. Now that he observed the diverse character of his dominions, and saw that it was no easy matter to wield such tremendous power, Basil abjured all selfindulgence. He even went so far as to scorn bodily ornaments. His neck was unadorned by collars, his head by diadems. He refused to make himself conspicuous in purple-coloured cloaks. He put away superfluous rings, even clothes of different colours. On the other hand, he took great pains to ensure that the various departments of the government should be centralized in himself, and that they should work without friction. He adopted a supercilious manner, [21] not only in his dealings with other men, but even towards his brother. Ta Constantine he allotted a mere handful of guards, as though he grudged him protection of a more dignified or imposing character. Having first straitened himself, so to speak, and having cheerfully stripped off the proud contraptions of monarchy in his own case, he now dealt with his brother and gradually decreased his authority too. He left him to enjoy the beauties of the country, the delights of bathing and hunting, his special hobbies, while he himself went out to the frontiers, where his armies were being hard pressed. His ambition, in fact, was to purge the Empire completely of all the barbarians who encircle us and lay siege to our borders, both in the east and in the west.
THE SECOND REVOLT OF SCLERUS, AFTER THE
DEATH OF PHOCAS**1623. This project, however, had to be postponed to the future, for Sclerus kept the emperor occupied with a second revolt, and the intended expedition against the barbarians became impossible, at least for the moment. After Phocas's death that part of his army which had been under his command, before his alliance with Sclerus, being foiled of the hopes it had placed in Phocas, dispersed and completely disbanded, while Sclerus and those who had escaped with him from Assyria returned to their homes. These latter now voluntarily reformed their army. They constituted what might be described as an independent corps, numerically the equal of Phocas's army and in the eyes of the emperor just as menacing.
24. This man Sclerus, though apparently not to be compared with Phocas in physical prowess, was a greater exponent of military strategy and management. He was reputed to be more resourceful than the other, too. When his quarrel with Basil flared up a second time, therefore, he was careful not to come to grips and join battle. His intention was to build up his army with heavy reinforcements and harass the emperor rather by guerilla tactics than with open warfare. No attempt was made to overwhelm the enemy in actual operations, but his transports were invariably stopped in convoys, he was cut off from free use of the roads, all merchandise being conveyed to the capital from abroad was impounded-- to the great advantage of Sclerus's own army. Moreover, by maintaining strict [22] vigilance, orders transmitted through state couriers were intercepted and never carried out.
25. The rebellion began in the summer and dragged on into the autumn. A whole year passed by, and the intrigue was still not crushed. As a matter of fact, this evil troubled the state for many years to come. The truth was, the men who had enrolled in Sclerus's army were no longer divided in their loyalties: every one of them was a declared rebel. Their leader inspired them with his own resolute determination and bound them into one coherent body. By favours he won their loyalty, by his kindliness he earned their devotion. He reconciled their differences, ate at the same table as his men, drank from the same cup, called them by name, and by his flattery bound them to his allegiance.
26. The emperor tried all his wiles and tricks to frustrate him, but Sclerus evaded all these attempts with the greatest of ease. Like a good general, he answered his opponent's schemes and plans with stratagems of his own. So Basil, seeing that his enemy could never be caught, sent an embassy to him with the suggestion that terms should be arranged, and that Sclerus should abandon the revolt. If he accepted the emperor's proposals, he was to occupy rank second only to Basil himself. At first, the pretender did not respond to these overtures with any great alacrity, but later, when he had given the matter deep thought and compared his present position with the past, guessing what the future might hold for him in comparison with the present; when he considered his personal prospects thus (he was already an old man), the proffered negotiations were not unattractive. So he assembled the whole of his army, to support him at the reception of the imperial envoys, and made peace with Basil on the following terms: he (Sclerus) was to resign his crown and give up wearing the purple, but to take precedence immediately after the emperor; the generals and other ranks who had revolted with him were to retain their present positions, and to enjoy as long as they lived whatever privileges he had conferred upon them; they would be deprived neither of property formerly in their possession, nor of any thereafter acquired through Sclerus, nor would they be stripped of any other advantages which had fallen to their lot.
27. Agreement was reached on these conditions, and the emperor set out from the capital to one of his most magnificent estates, there to receive the rebel and ratify the treaty.**17 Basil seated himself in the [23] royal tent. Sclerus, some distance away, was introduced by the guards. They led him into the emperor's presence, without preliminaries, not riding on horseback, but escorted on foot. Sclerus was a very tall man, but he was also an aged man, and he came in supported by guards on either side. The emperors seeing him approaching some way off, turned to the bystanders and made his celebrated remark (everyone knows the story): 'Look, the man whom I feared! A suppliant dotard, unable to walk by himself!' As for Sclerus, whether because of his eagerness, or because in any case he had forgotten them, he had kept on his feet the sandals of purple when he laid aside the other insignia of power. It seemed that he was arrogating some share in the royal prerogative. Anyway, he approached the emperor wearing the sandals. Basil saw all this from a distance and shut his eyes in annoyance, refusing to see him at all unless he first clothed himself like an ordinary citizen in every detail. At all events, there and then Sclerus shook of his purple sandals at the door of the tent and so entered the emperor's presence.
28. As soon as he saw him enter, Basil rose and they embraced one another. Then they held converse, the one excusing his revolt and explaining the reasons why he had plotted and carried it out, the other quietly accepting the apology and attributing to bad luck what had occurred. When they shared a common drinking-bowl, the emperor first put to his own lips the cup offered to Sclerus and took a moderate sip of its contents before handing it back to his guest. Thus he relieved him of any suspicion of poison, and at the same time proved the sanctity of their agreement. After this Basil proceeded to question him, as a man accustomed to command, about his Empire, how it could be preserved free from dissension. Sclerus had an answer to this, although it was not the sort of advice one would expect from a general; in fact, it sounded more like a diabolical plot. 'Cut down,' he said, 'the governors who become overproud. Let no generals on campaign have too many resources. Exhaust them with unjust exactions, to keep them busied with their own affairs. Admit no woman to the imperial councils. Be accessible to no one. Share with few your most intimate plans.'
29. On this note their conversation came to an end. Sclerus went off to the country estate which had been apportioned him, and soon afterwards he died. We will leave him and return to the emperor. In his dealings with his subjects, Basil behaved with extraordinary [24] circumspection. It is perfectly true that the great reputation he built up as a ruler was founded rather on terror than on loyalty. As he grew older and became more experienced he relied less on the judgment of men wiser than himself. He alone introduced new measures, he alone disposed his military forces. As for the civil administration, he governed, not in accordance with the written laws, but following the unwritten dictates of his own intuition, which was most excellently equipped by nature for the purpose. Consequently he paid no attention to men of learning: on the contrary, he affected utter scorn -- towards the learned folk, I mean. It seems to me a wonderful thing, therefore, that while the emperor so despised literary culture, no small crop of philosophers and orators sprang up in those times. One solution of the paradox, I fancy, is that the men of those days did not devote themselves to the study of letters for any ulterior purpose: they cultivated literature for its own sake and as an end in itself, whereas the majority nowadays do not approach the subject of education in this spirit, but consider personal profit to be the first reason for study. Perhaps I should add, that though gain is the object of their zeal for literature, if they do not immediately achieve this goal, then they desist from their studies at once. Shame on them!
30. However, we must return to the emperor. Having purged the Empire of the barbarians, he dealt with his own subjects and completely subjugated them too-- I think 'subjugate' is the right word to describe it.**18 He decided to abandon his former policy, and after the great families had been humiliated and put on an equal footing with the rest, Basil found himself playing the game of power-politics with considerable success. He surrounded himself with favourites who were neither remarkable for brilliance of intellect, nor of noble lineage, nor too learned. To them were entrusted the imperial rescripts, and with them he was accustomed to share the secrets of state. However, since at that time the emperor's comments on memoranda or requests for favour were never varied, but only plain, straightforward statements (for Basil, whether writing or speaking, eschewed all elegance of composition) he used to dictate to his secretaries just as the words came to his tongue, stringing them all together, one after the other. There was no subtlety, nothing superfluous, in his speech.
31. By humbling the pride or jealousy of his people, Basil made his own road to power an easy one. He was careful, moreover, to [25] close the exit-doors on the monies contributed to the treasury. So a huge sum of money was built up, partly by the exercise of strict economy, partly by fresh additions from abroad. Actually, the sum accumulated in the imperial treasury reached the grand total of 200,000 talents.**19 As for the rest of his gains, it would indeed be hard to find words adequately to describe them. All the treasures amassed in Iberia and Arabia, all the riches found among the Celts or contained in the land of the Scyths-- in brief, all the wealth of the barbarians who surround our borders-- all were gathered together in one place and deposited in the emperor's coffers. In addition to this, he carried off to his treasure-chambers and sequestrated there, all the money of those who rebelled against him and were afterwards subdued. And since the vaults of the buildings made for this purpose were not big enough, he had spiral galleries dug underground, after the Egyptian style, and there he kept safe a considerable proportion of his treasures. He himself took no pleasure in any of it: quite the reverse indeed, for the majority of the precious stones, both the white ones (which we call pearls) and the coloured brilliants, far from being inlaid in diadems or collars, were hidden away in his underground vaults. Meanwhile Basil took part in his processions and gave audience to his governors clothed merely in a robe of purple, not the very bright purple, but simply purple of a dark hue, with a handful of gems as a mark of distinction. As he spent the greater part of his reign serving as a soldier on guard at our frontiers and keeping the barbarians from raiding our territories, not only did he draw nothing from his reserves of wealth, but even multiplied his riches many times over.
32. On his expedition against the barbarians, Basil did not follow the customary procedure of other emperors, setting out at the middle of spring and returning home at the end of summer. For him the time to return was when the task in hand was accomplished. He endured the rigours of winter and the heat of summer with equal indifference. He disciplined himself against thirst. In fact, all his natural desires were kept under stern control, and the man was as hard as steel. He had an accurate knowledge of the details of army life, and by that I do not mean the general acquaintance with the composition of his army, the relative functions of individual units in the whole body, or the various groupings and deployments suited to the different formations. His experience of army matters went [26] further than that: the duties of the protostate,**20 the duties of the hemilochites, **21 the tasks proper to the rank immediately junior to them-- all these were no mysteries to Basil, and the knowledge stood him in good stead in his wars. Accordingly, jobs appropriate to these ranks were not devolved on others, and the emperor, being personally conversant with the character and combat duties of each individual, knowing to what each man was fitted either by temperament or by training, used him in this capacity and made him serve there.
33. Moreover, he knew the various formations suited to his men. Some he had read of in books, others he devised himself during the operations of war, the result of his own intuition. He professed to conduct his wars and draw up the troops in line of battle, himself planning each campaign, but he preferred not to engage in combat personally. A sudden retreat might otherwise prove embarrassing. Consequently, for the most part he kept his troops immobile. He would construct machines of war and skirmish at a distance, while the manoeuvring was left to his light-armed soldiers. Once he had made contact with the enemy, a regular military liaison was established between the different formations of the Roman army. The whole force was formed up like a solid tower, headquarters being in touch with the cavalry squadrons, who were themselves kept in communication with the light infantry, and these again with the various units of heavy-armed foot. When all was ready, strict orders were given that no soldier should advance in front of the line or break rank under any circumstance. If these orders were disobeyed, and if some of the most valiant or daring soldiers did ride out well in front of the rest, even in cases where they engaged the enemy successfully, they could expect no medals or rewards for valour when they returned. On the contrary, Basil promptly discharged them from the army, and they were punished on the same level as common criminals. The decisive factor in the achievement of victory was, in his opinion, the massing of troops in one coherent body, and for this reason alone he believed the Roman armies to be invincible. The careful inspections he made before battle used to aggravate the soldiers and they abused him openly, but the emperor met their scorn with common sense. He would listen quietly, and then, with a gay smile, point out that if he neglected these precautions, their battles would go on for ever. [27]
34. Basil's character was two-fold, for he readily adapted himself no less to the crises of war than to the calm of peace. Really, if the truth be told, he was more of a villain in wartime, more of an emperor in time of peace. Outbursts of wrath he controlled, and like the proverbial 'fire under the ashes', kept anger hid in his heart, but if his orders were disobeyed in war, on his return to the palace he would kindle his wrath and reveal it. Terrible then was the vengeance he took on the miscreant. Generally, he persisted in his opinions, but there were occasions when he did change his mind. In many cases, too, he traced crimes back to their original causes, and the final links in the chain were exonerated. So most defaulters obtained forgiveness, either through his sympathetic understanding, or because he showed some other interest in their affairs. He was slow to adopt any course of action, but never would he willingly alter the decision, once it was taken. Consequently, his attitude to friends was unvaried, unless perchance he was compelled by necessity to revise his opinion of them. Similarly, where he had burst out in anger against someone, he did not quickly moderate his wrath. Whatever estimate he formed, indeed, was to him an irrevocable and divinely inspired judgment.
BASIL'S PERSONAL CHARACTERISTICS
35. so much for his character. As for his personal appearance, it betrayed the natural nobility of the man, for his eyes were light-blue and fiery, the eye-brows not overhanging nor sullen, nor yet extended in one straight line, like a woman's, but well-arched and indicative of his pride. The eyes were neither deep-set (a sign of knavishness and cunning) nor yet too prominent (a sign of frivolity), but they shone with a brilliance that was manly. His whole face was rounded off, as if from the centre into a perfect circle, and joined to the shoulders by a neck that was firm and not too long. His chest was neither thrust out in front of him, nor hanging on him, so to speak, nor again was it concave and, as it were, cramped: rather was it the mean between the two extremes, and the rest of his body was in harmony with it.
36. As for height, he was of less than normal stature, but it was proportionate to the separate parts of his body, and he held himself upright. If you met him on foot, you would find him much like [28] some other men, but on horseback he afforded a sight that was altogether incomparable, for in the saddle he reminded one of the statues which the great sculptors carved, with their riders adopting a similar pose. When he gave rein to his horse and rode in the assault, he was erect and firm in his saddle, riding uphill and downhill alike, and when he checked his steed, reining it in, he would leap on high as though he had wings, and he mounted or dismounted alike with equal grace. In his old age the beard under his chin went bald, but the hair from his cheeks poured down, the growth on either side being thick and very profuse, so that wound round on both sides it was made into a perfect circle and he appeared to possess a full beard. It was a habit of his to roll it between his fingers, a gesture to which he was particularly prone when roused to anger or giving audience, or when he was engaged in deep thought. That was a frequent habit; another was to put his fingers on his hips, arms akimbo. He was not a fluent speaker. The phrases were not rounded off, nor were they lengthened out into periods. In fact, he clipped his words, with little pauses between them, more like a peasant than a man of good education. He had a loud laugh, which convulsed the whole of his body.
37. The emperor seems to have lived a very long time, more than all the other sovereigns, for from birth up to his twentieth year he shared imperial power with his father and Phocas Nicephorus, and later with John Tzimisces, the latter's successor. During this period he occupied a subordinate position, but for the next fifty-two years he ruled supreme. He was therefore in his seventy-second year when he died.**21
NOTES
The notes which follow are not bibliographical and are only intended to give some indication of background to those who have no knowledge of the period. Fuller references and information can be found by referring to the works cited in the Bibliographical Note.
BOOK ONE NOTES
1. Psellus begins where Leo the Deacon finishes, at the death of John I Tzimisces in 976. Leo (Hist., X, II, p. I77) describes the circumstances of the emperor's death, but whether he died from poisoning or after a severe illness is not certain. Cedrenus (684, p. 415) definitely asserts that the Lord Chamberlain, Basil, bribed John's cupbearer to poison him, but both Psellus and Cedrenus are probably biased in their accounts of Basil.
2. The young emperors ascended the throne on 11 January 976. Basil was now eighteen years old and his brother two years younger. Both were already theoretically invested with the purple, for they had been crowned during their father's reign and after Romanus II's death in 963 had been under the guardianship of their mother Theophano and then of the co-emperor Nicephorus II Phocas (who had married Theophano) and John I Tzimisces.
3. Basil the Lord Chamberlain (parakoimomenus) was the illegitimate son off Romanus I Lecapenus (9l9-944) and had been promoted to his high office by Nicephorus II Phocas, with the additional title of President of the Senate. He afterwards sided with Tzimisces in the revolt of 969 which ended with the death of Nicephorus. The historians agree that Basil was a man of great energy and ability.
4. Bardas Sclerus had been brother-in-law of John I Tzimisces, who had married his sister Maria. He had expected to succeed John for he had been promised the throne by the emperor on his death-bed.
5. The Phocas family had its origin in Cappadocia and for several generations had enjoyed high repute in the Empire as soldiers. The father of Bardas Phocas was that Leo who had won military fame under the emperor Romanus II. His uncle Nicephorus was an even greater soldier and had himself ascended the throne im 963, when he married Theophano. The family was banished from the capital on the orders of the Lord Chamberlain when Tzimisces gained power.
6. That Basil never carried out his intention of destroying the Phocas family can be inferred from the fact that as late as 1022 a son of Bardas, another Nicephorus, was in revolt and was actually crowned emperor in Cappadocia. Fortunately for Basil the pretender was assassinated by a jealous accomplice, Nicephorus Xiphias, and the the rebellion proved abortive. [294]
7. Bardas Phocas had revolted against Tzimisces in 971, with the help of his brother Leo and their father. He was actually proclaimed emperor at Caesarea, but the rebellion was crushed by Bardas Sclerus and the whole family was sent into exile on the island of Chios. Leo the younger attempted a second revolt the next year and again the effort proved unsuccessful. The Phocas family had the active support of the Nicephorus party and of some clergy, and Basil no doubt believed that his own position would never be secure until the whole faction was wiped out.
8. This single combat took place on 24 March 979 at Pancalia.
9. The second revolt of Bardas Phocas came to a head on 15 August 987 when was proclaimed emperor at Chresianus. Sclcrus had meanwhile escaped from Baghdad, and according to the terms he concluded with his rival Phocas was to have Constantinople and the European provinces, while Sclerus was to rule over Asia Minor. Barely a month later Phocas broke his word and on 14 September Sclerus was imprisoned by him at Tyropaeum and stripped of all imperial insignia.
10. This battle apparently took place late in 986.
11. This Scythian force of 6,coo arrived at Constantinople in the spring of 988. Vladimir of Russia was persuaded to help on condition that Basil gave him his sister Anna in marriage. On his part he was to be baptized into the Christian faith, an act that was destined to influence Russia for centuries to come. The Scyths (or Varangians) remained in Greece after the defeat of Phocas and formed the Imperial Cuard until they were to some extent replaced by western Europeans late in the next century.
12. The Battle of Ghrysopolis in the summer of 988.
13. The Bade of Abydos, 13 April 989.
14. With this defeat opposition to Basil faded away. All the leaders of Phocas's army were put to death except Leo Melissenus, his second-in-command, and Sderus, who had been set free by Phocas's wife as soon as she heard of her husband's death, was soon reconciled to the emperor. The circumstances of Leo's amnesty are recorded in Cedrenus (700, pp. 445-6).
15. Psellus seems to have misunderstood the chronology of Basil's reign, for the Lord Chamberlain was deposed in 985 and died in exile soon after. Cedrenus (699, p. 443) implies that his downfall coincided with the rise of Romanus, son of Sclerus. This young man was sent by his father to the emperor immediately after his (Sclerus's) escape from Baghdad. He realized that he would never carry out a successful coup d'etat without the assistance of Phocas. At the same time he secretly sent Romanus to the capital, pretending that his son was a deserter from his own army. He calculated that if Phocas beat the emperor he would probably be able to save the young man- on the other hand, if Basil won the son would be able to save him. Basil, after the Lord Chamberlain had been dismissed, did in fact welcome Romanus and appears to have relied much on his judgments.
16. Sclerus's second revolt lasted only a few months, for the reconciliation between the emperor and his rival was effected in October 989. It seems likely that Sclerus was supported mainly by the Church and Bardas Phocas by the army. Psellus's remarks about the opposition that 'dragged on for many years' may refer to the activities of Sclerus's men who refused to accept the agreement made by their leader. Sclerus died in retirement on 6 March 991, blinded and practically a prisoner of Basil. He had accepted the title of Curopalates.
17. At Didymotichus.
18. It was the policy of Basil to ensure that the great feudal families should never agaiin be able to rebel against his government. The 'favourites' mentioned later in the chapter were the civil servants who passed under the name of 'Senators', the bureaucrats who were no less interested than Basil himself in the maintenance cf peace. By the Novel of January 996 it was enacted that land taken from the people by the rich landowners since the reign of Romanus Lecapenus was to be restored without compensation. The rich were further curbed by the famous allelengyon, by which men with money were required to pay taxes for those who were impoverished. However politic these measures may have seemed to Basil, they were not only most difficult to carry out, but caused great bitterness among the various classes in the state.
19. Despite his reputation for hardness Basil was accustomed to grant the poor time in which to pay off their taxes (Cedrenus, 721, p. 484), and when he died there was some tributum already two years overdue. Constantine, his successor, compelled the debtors to pay five years' tax in one lump sum.
20. Military ranks, junior officers.
21. Basil died on 15 December 1025. According to Cedrenus he had reigned as sole emperor for fifty years and was seventy years old. He was buried in the monastery of St. John Evangelist in the Hebdomon at Constantinople.
[31] CONSTANTINE VIII
1025-- 10281. On the death of Basil, his brother Constantine became emperor for the second time. There was no opposition. As a matter of fact, the dying Basil summoned him to the palace just before the end, and there handed over to him the reins of government. Constantine was at this time in his seventieth year, a person of decidedly effeminate character with but one great object in life-- to enjoy himself to the full.**22 Since he inherited a treasury crammed with money, he was able to follow his natural inclination, and the new ruler devoted himself to a life of luxury.
2. According to tradition he was a man of sluggish temperament, with no great ambition for power; he was physically strong, but a craven at heart. Already he was an old man, no longer capable of waging war, and every ill rumour filled him with exasperation. The barbarians encircling our borders had only to stir a finger against us and Constantine would hold them in check-- with granting of titles and giving of bribes. If his own subjects rebelled, it was different: they were punished with savage retribution.**23 Suspicion of revolutionary plots, or of party factions, resulted in vengeance and the suspects were condemned without trial. The Romans became his slaves, not won over by acts of kindness but subdued by all manner of horrible punishments. No man was ever more quick-tempered. His anger was uncontrolled, and he was ready to listen to any rumour, especially if it concerned those whom he suspected of treachery. On these victims awful tortures were indicted. It was not a question of temporary restrictions, or of banishment, or of prison: his method was to punish malefactors on the spot, with blinding of [32] the eyes by a red-hot iron. This was the penalty imposed on all and sundry, quite apart from the fact that, in one case, he was dealing with apparently flagrant crime, in another with minor delinquencies. No distinction was made between the perpetration of a crime and mere suspicion of wrong-doing. His concern, indeed, was not to award punishment in proportion to the offences, but rather to free himself from his own doubts, and to him it seemed that such torture as blinding was more humane than others. Moreover, it rendered the victims helpless, an excellent reason for its wider use. He maintained this policy irrespective of the high or low rank of his subjects. The evil practice was even extended to include some of the clergy, and the very bishops were not exempt. Once carried away by his anger, the man could only be restored to a reasonable frame of mind with difficulty, and he would turn a deaf ear to all advice. Yet, quicktempered as he was, Constantine had not been utterly divorced from pity, for at the sight of disaster he would be troubled, and he was often gracious to those who had a woeful story to tell. His anger, too, was not lasting, like that of his brother Basil. He quickly relented and was terribly downcast at what he had done. Better still, if someone could quench the rising fire of his wrath, he would refrain from inflicting chastisements and even be thankful for some restraining influence. Where there was no resistance, indignation carried him on to any excess. Then, at the first word of apology, he would be grieved, compassionately embrace his victim, let tears fall from his eyes, and beg forgiveness with words full of contrition.
3. He was generous in his favours, more than all other emperors, but this good quality was not, in his case, tempered by justice. To members of his court he threw wide open the gates of his favour, heaping gold on them as though it were sand; but to those far removed from the palace this virtue was less displayed. They were his friends most of all whom in their infancy he had had castrated and whom afterwards he used as chamberlains and private servants.**24 These men were not of noble birth nor free-born. Actually, they were barbarians and heathens, but they owed their education to the emperor, and because they modelled their own conduct on him, they were accounted worthy of greater respect and honour than others. Their physical degradation was obscured by an adroit and liberal distribution of gifts, by their eagerness to confer benefits, by their display of other gentlemanly qualities.
[33] 4. At the time when his brother Basil had become emperor, Constantine while still a young man, had married a lady called Helena. She was a daughter of the renowned Alypius, then the leading man in the city and member of a noble family held in high repute. This lady, who was not only beautiful but also virtuous, bore him three daughters before she died. The princesses were brought up in the palace and educated in a manner worthy of their exalted rank. The responsibility for their training devolved on Constantine, for although Basil expressed the strongest affection and love for his nieces, he took no further interest in their future. He was too busy guarding the Empire on his brother's behalf.
5. The eldest of the daughters bore no great resemblance to the rest of her family. She was of a more tranquil disposition, more gentle in spirit, and her beauty was only moderate (in childhood she had been attacked by some infectious illness, and her looks had been marred ever since). The second daughter, whom I myself saw in her extreme old age, was very regal in her ways, a woman of great beauty, most imposing in her manner and commanding respect. About her I will speak in more detail at the appropriate point in my history. At the moment I am merely giving a brief outline of their characteristics. The third and last daughter was very tall, curt and glib of tongue, but not so beautiful as her sister. Their uncle, the emperor Basil, died without making any plan for their subsequent promotion, and as for their father, even he, when he acceded to the throne, failed to reach any wise decision about their future, except in the case of the second sister, the one who was most like an empress. I will tell the story of that decision, and of the plan he made on his death-bed, as my narrative proceeds. Actually, this princess and the third sister acquiesced in the ideas of their uncle and father, and made no plans of their own, but the eldest, Eudocia (for that was her name), whether because she had no desire for power, or because she had her affections fixed on higher things, begged her father to dedicate her to the service of God. He readily agreed, and she was presented to the Lord as an offering, the first-fruits, so to speak, of her parents' marriage. Constantine's intentions for the other two were kept a dark secret. However, I must not speak of that yet.
6. I would like now to sketch the emperor's character, without bias either one way or the other. When the whole government came to depend on himself, he was by no means the man to expend his [34] own energies on cares of state. Putting the wiser of his subjects in charge of affairs, he merely gave audiences to embassies, or administered some other easy matter, seated most royally on his throne. However, when he did have occasion to make a speech, he astonished all hearers by his logical arguments. As a matter of fact, he had not much learning. He had acquired a smattering of culture, just as much as one considers enough for children, but he was possessed of great natural intelligence and more than ordinary grace. He had the added advantage of a tongue both melodious and refined: arguments conceived in his mind were, so to speak, brilliantly delivered by his tongue. He did, indeed, personally dictate some of the imperial rescripts (he made that a point of honour) and the quickest writers could not keep up with him, he spoke so fast, and that despite the fact that he was fortunate in the number and quality of his secretaries, writers so fast that few generations have seen their like. Overwhelmed by the speed of his words, they used to interpret most of his thoughts and expressions by special symbols of their own.
7. He was a man of enormous size, standing up to nine feet in height. His constitution, moreover, was more than usually robust, and his digestive powers were extraordinary, with a stomach naturally adapted to assimilate all kinds of food with ease. He was especially expert in the art of preparing rich savoury sauces, giving the dishes character by combinations of colour and perfume, and summoning all Nature to his aid-- anything to excite the palate. Being dominated by his gluttony and sexual passions, he became afflicted with arthritis, and worse still, his feet gave him such trouble that he was unable to walk. That is why, after his accession, no one saw him attempt to walk with any confidence: he used to ride on horseback, in safety.
8. For the theatre and horse-racing he had an absolute obsession. To Constantine these things were a matter of real concern, as he changed horses, harnessed fresh mounts, and anxiously kept his eye on the starting-points in the arena. The gymnepodia,**25 long ago neglected, was also revived in his reign. He reintroduced it into the theatre, not content with the emperor's normal role of spectator, but himself appearing as a combatant, with opponents. It was his wish, moreover, that his rivals should not be vanquished simply because he was the emperor, but he liked them to fight back with skill-- his own credit for the victory would then be the greater. He used to [35] chatter away, too, about his contests, and he mixed well with the ordinary people. The theatre also attracted him, and no less the chase. Once engaged in the latter he was impervious to heat, ignored the cold. and never gave way to thirst. Most of all he was skilled in fighting with wild beasts, and it was because of this that he learned to shoot with the bow, hurl the javelin, draw his sword with dexterity, and aim his arrow straight at the mark.
9. He neglected the affairs of his Empire as much as he devoted himself to his checkers**26 and dice, for so ardent was he in the pursuit of gaming and so enraptured by it, that even when ambassadors were waiting to attend on him, he would neglect them if he was in the middle of a game. He would despise matters of the utmost importance, spend whole nights and days at it, and fast completely, voracious eater though he was, when he wanted to play at the dice. So, playing away his Empire, he was surprised by Death, and Old Age reminded him suddenly of the decay that Nature ordains. When, therefore, he felt that the end was near, either persuaded by his counsellors, or through his own recognition of duty, he began to cast round for an heir to his throne, intending to betroth the second of his daughters to the man he chose. As, however, he had never regarded any member of the Senate with more than a cursory glance before, it was difficult for him to make a reasonable choice.
10. One of the persons considered was a certain man, prominent in the Senate, who had been promoted to the office of Eparch**27-- an imperial dignity, although it did not carry with it the privilege of wearing the purple-- but since this gentleman had married while still in his childhood, he hardly seemed a suitable candidate. In the matter of family and social position, he was more acceptable than his rivals, but in the eyes of the Church his previous marriage was an obstacle to further promotion. It was commonly agreed that he must be passed over. Meanwhile, since circumstances did not permit of more deliberation, and the near approach of death prevented the emperor from examining the claims of various men in detail, he condemned everyone else as unworthy of a royal marriage, and gave his full support to Romanus. He knew that Romanus's wife opposed the scheme, so he pretended to be in a most violent, implacable rage with her husband. Messengers were sent, ostensibly to take awful vengeance on him and to carry her off to a nunnery. She, not knowing the secret of the plot, nor seeing that the emperor's anger was only [36] a mask, immediately submitted to her fate. Her hair was cut off, she was clothed in the nun's robe of black, and admitted into the nunnery, while her husband was taken up to the palace, to wed into the imperial family. The most beautiful of Constantine's daughters was no sooner in his sight than she was made his bride. So her father, having survived just long enough to see the marriage ceremony completed, passed away and left the Empire to his kinsman, Romanus. **28
BOOK TWO NOTES
22. Constantine was already sixty-four or sixty-five years old, with a wife and three daughters, Eudocia, Zoe and Theodora. Psellus wrongly says he was sixty-nine.
23. Cedrenus (719 ff., p. 483) gives details of persons executed or blinded by the emperor. Among them is mentioned the Bishop of Naupactus.
24. Cedrenus (720, pp. 480-1) mentions six eunuchs to whom the government was entrusted.
25. A form of single combat, reminiscent of Roman gladiatorial contests.
26. Used in the game of draughts.
27. The Eparch, or City Prefect, ranked eighteenth in the first sixty great officials in Byzantium. His duties included the maintenance of order in the city, superintendence of the factions in the Circus, control of the industrial guilds and above all the supply of corn. His office is, in fact, a combination of the old Roman praefectus urbi and praefectus annonae. The Eparch mentioned here appears to have been Constantine Dalassenus (Cedrenus, 722, p. 484) who was at this time in Armenia and to whom the it emperor sent a trusted eunuch, Ergodotes, offering him the Caesarship and the hand of Zoe in marriage. This proposal was revoked, says Cedrenus, because Simeon, the drungarius vigiliae, favoured the claims of Romanus. It seems that Theodora refused to marry Romanus (Cedrenus, lbid.) because of their relationship-- they were cousins-- and because he had already married Helena. There was some controversy over the divorce but the Patriarch soon settled the matter in favour of the new emperor.
28. Constantine died on 11. November 1028, aged seventy, after an illness of only two days.
[39] ROMANUS III
1028-- 10341. Constantine was succeeded as emperor by his son-in-law Romanus, surnamed Argyropulus.**29 The latter was convinced that his reign marked the beginning of a new dynasty. The imperial family descended from Basil the Macedonian**30 had died with his predecessor and he now looked forward to a new line of monarchs descended from himself. In fact, that line was destined to perish at once, and he, after a short life, and that full of suffering, was fated to die suddenly. The story will show all this in more detail as it proceeds. From now on, the history will be more accurate than hitherto, for the emperor Basil died when I was a baby, while Constantine ended his reign just after I had begun my elementary studies. So I was never admitted to their presence, nor did I hear them speak. Whether I even saw them I cannot say, for I was too young to remember at that time. On the other hand, I both saw Romanus and, on one occasion, actually talked with him. Naturally, therefore, my remarks on the first two emperors are based on information supplied by others, but my account of Romanus is quite independent.
2. This gentleman, nurtured on Greek literature, also had some acquaintance with the literary works of the Italians. He had a graceful turn of speech and a majestic utterance. A man of heroic stature, he looked every inch a king. His idea of his own range of knowledge was vastly exaggerated, but wishing to model his reign on those of the great Indianans of the past, the famous philosopher Marcus and Augustus, he paid attention particularly to two things: the study of letters and the science of war. Of the latter he was completely [40] ignorant, and as for letters, his knowledge was far from profound: in fact, it was merely superficial. However, this belief in his own knowledge, and this straining beyond his own intellectual limits, led him to commit mistakes on a big scale. Doubtless, if there were any sparks of wisdom lying hid beneath the ashes, he added fresh fuel to the fire, arid he enrolled a whole new tribe of philosophers and orators and all those who busied themselves in the sciences-- or rather, thought they did.
3. That era produced few men of erudition, and even they stood only at the outer door of the Aristotelian doctrines and merely repeated the Platonic allegories, without any understanding of their hidden meaning or of the philosophers' studies in dialectic or proof by syllogistic deduction. There being no proper criterion, their judgment on these great men was erroneous. However, questions were propounded on religious subjects, questions dealing with the interpretation of Holy Writ. Yet most of the difficult problems were left unsolved. The truth is that they concerned themselves with such mysteries as the Immaculate Conception, the Virgin Birth, and metaphysical problems. The palace indeed clothed itself in the outward form of philosophy for all to see, but it was all a mask and pretence: there was no real test, no real quest for truth.
4. Abandoning these studies for a while, Romanus returned to strategy, and the conversation now inclined to greaves and breastplates. The plan was to annex the whole barbarian world, east and west alike. Nor was his ambition limited to a subjugation in theory. He wanted to subdue the barbarians by force of arms. Doubtless, had the emperor's twofold enthusiasm resulted in a genuine understanding of his problems, instead of being mere vanity and makebelieve, he would have benefited his empire greatly. As it was, he did nothing more than make projects, or shall I say, built castles in the air and then, in actual practice, hurled them down again. But there, I am hurrying on because of my exuberance, to the end of my story, before, so to speak, building up the gateway to his reign. Let us go back, therefore, to the time of his accession.
5. Having been judged worthy of the crown, in preference to all others, Romanus deceived himself in the belief that he would reign for many years, and leave to succeed him a family destined to inherit the throne for many generations. Apparently it did not occur to him that Constantine's daughter, with whom he lived after his acclama- [41] tion, was too old to conceive and already barren (actually she was in her fiftieth year when she married him).**3l Even in the face of natural incapacity he clung ever more firmly to his ambitions, led on by his own faith in the future. Hence he ignored the physical prerequisite for conception. Nevertheless, he did have recourse to the specialists who deal with sexual disorders and claim the ability either to induce or cure sterility. He submitted himself to treatment with ointments and massage, and he enjoined his wife to do likewise. In fact, she went even further: she was introduced to most of the magical practices, fastening little pebbles to her body, hanging charms about her, wearing chains, decking herself out with the rest of the nonsense. As their hopes were never realized, the emperor at last gave up in despair and paid less attention to Zoe. In truths his desires were somewhat dulled and his bodily powers exhausted, for he was more than twenty years older than she was.
6. He had been most jealous of his reputation in distributing the honours of his Empire, and his generosity in the use of the imperial treasures, by way of favours and donations, had won him more regard than most sovereigns.**32 Thence suddenly, as if some fresh idea had occurred to him, as if he were another person altogether, this spirit of genial liberality passed: the sudden gust exhausted itself. He lost confidence in his powers and seemed out of place. And then he relaxed, there was no moderation about it. From the highest summit he crashed down to the depths, all in one brief moment. As for the empress, two things more than any other vexed her: the fact that Romanus did not love her, and that she herself was unable to squander money. The treasure-chambers were closed to her, sealed by the emperor's orders, and she was compelled to live on a fixed allowance. Not unnaturally, she was furious with him and with the counsellors whose advice he followed in the matter. They, on their side, were aware of her feelings, and they took precautions more stringent than ever, especially Pulcheria, the emperor's sister, a woman of great spirit and one who contributed not a little to her brother's success. Romanus, meanwhile, was quite oblivious of this undercurrent of suspicion; apparently he was under the impression that some supernatural power was bound to preserve his throne. His reputation was secure, to be for ever maintained in glory by this power, as if some kind of contract had been made between him and it.
[42] 7. Setting his heart on military glory, he prepared for war against the barbarians, east and west. Victory over the western barbarians, however easy, seemed no great triumph, but an attack on the barbarians of the east, he thought, would win him fame. There he could use the resources of his Empire on a colossal scale. For these reasons, although no real pretext for war existed, he made an unprovoked attack on the Saracens, who lived in Coele-Syria and whose capital was Chalep (as they pronounce the name of the place in their own language).**33 The whole Roman army was assembled and organized to fight these Saracens. The ranks were increased and fresh formations devised, while the mercenaries were welded into one force and new troops conscripted. His plan, it appears, was to overwhelm the enemy at the first assault He thought that if he increased the army beyond ins normal strength, or rather, if the legion was made more numerous, when he came upon the foe with such masses of troops, Romans and allied, no one would be able to resist him. The leading generals tried to dissuade him from this offensive-- they were not a little fearful of the outcome-- but he had the crowns made (at great expense), with which he was to adorn his head at the proclamation of his triumphs.
8. So, being satisfied with the preparations, he set out from Byzantine territory for Syria. When he occupied Antioch, the entry into the city was celebrated with great pomp. It was certainly a royal show, but the equipment was somewhat theatrical, not worthy of fighting men, nor capable of striking terror into the hearts of the enemy. On their side, the barbarians took a more realistic view of the war. First they sent ambassadors to the emperor. They declared that they had not wanted this war, nor had they given him any pretext for it. They were standing by the peace terms already concluded, and they refused to repudiate the treaty still in force. On the other hand, seeing that he was now adopting a policy of threats and since he persisted in parading his strength, they themselves, if he proved obdurate, would from now on make their own preparations for conflict: they committed themselves to the fortunes of war. Such was the purport of this embassy. Despite the warning, the emperor to all appearances had one object only-- to draw up his line of battle, to set his men in array against the enemy, to lay ambushes, to go out foraging, to dig trenches, to drain off rivers, to take fortresses. In fact, he wanted to imitate the traditional deeds of the famous Trajans [43] and Hadrians, or (still further back in history) of the Augusti and Caesars, or of their predecessor, Alexander the son of Philip. The ambassadors were therefore dismissed with a conciliatory message while still more strenuous preparations were made for war. To attain his object, however, he did not choose the best men. He thought war was decided by the big battalions, and it was on the big battalions that he relied.
9. When he left Antioch and went on further, a detachment of barbarian soldiers, all equipped in their own fashion, daring bareback riders, lay in ambush on either side of the army's route. Suddenly they appeared on high ground. Yelling their war-cry and filling their opponents with consternation at this unexpected sight, they made a tremendous din as their horses charged to the attack. By not keeping in close order, they created the illusion of great numbers, running about in scattered groups and with no regular formations. This so terrorized the Roman soldiery and spread such panic in this mighty and famous army, and so shattered their morale, that they all ran away, dressed just as they were, and not a thought did they give to anything but flight. Those who happened to be on horseback wheeled about and made off as fast as they could, while the rest did not even wait to mount their horses, but left them to the first master who claimed them, and every man, running off or wandering away, sought his own safety as best he could. It was an extraordinary sight. Here were those same men, who had brought a continent to terms, who in their preparations for war and in their military dispositions had made themselves invincible before the whole might of Barbary, now daring not even to look their enemies in the eye. As if the thunder of barbarian cries had deafened their ears and smitten their hearts with fear, they turned and ran away like men in utter defeat. First to feel the effects of the hubbub were the Imperial Guards. Without so much as a backward glance, they deserted their emperor and fled.**34 Indeed, if someone had not helped him on to his horse, given him the reins, and counselled him to escape, he would have been almost captured himself and made prisoner by the enemy-- he who had hoped to shake a whole continent! The truth is, if God had not at that moment restrained the barbarian onrush, and had He not inspired them to moderation in the hour of victory, nothing would have saved the Roman army from complete annihilation, and the emperor would have fallen first of all. [44]
10. So the Romans ran off in disorder. Meanwhile, the enemy, as if amazed at the sight of Romans routed and fleeing for no reason merely stood and watched this astounding triumph. Later on, after taking a handful of prisoners on the field, and those men whom they knew to be of some importance, they told the rest to go free, and turned to the loot. First they seized the imperial tent, which was nearly as valuable as the palace of today, for it was filled with necklaces and bracelets and diadems, pearls and precious stones even more costly, all kinds of glorious booty. To count the multitude of these treasures would have been no easy task, nor to admire enough their beauty and magnificence, so great and so luxurious was the profusion of wealth in the emperor's tent. Next they proceeded to collect the rest of the spoil, and loading themselves with it they rejoined their compatriots. The emperor was meanwhile riding on ahead of the Saracens, wandering on wherever the whim of his charger bore him. He came by a certain ridge and here he was seen by some men who were running past and recognized who he was by the colour of his sandals. Many of these fugitives he stopped there and stood surrounded by them. Thereupon the rumour spread far and wide that Romanus still lived, and others joined him. More important than that, someone came up with the ikon of the Theometor,* [* The Mother of God] the image which Roman emperors habitually carry with them on campaign, as a guide and guardian of all the army. This alone had not been taken by the enemy.
11. When the emperor saw this beautiful sight (he was particularly reverent in his veneration for this ikon) he immediately took heart, and holding it in his hands-- but no words can describe how he embraced it, how he bedewed it with his tears, how heartfelt were the words with which he addressed it, how he recalled Our Lady's kindnesses in the past and those many times when She, his ally, had rescued and saved the Roman power in moments of crisis. From now on he was full of courage. He who had but lately been a fugitive himself now rebuked others who were running away. With loud cries and the vigour of a man years younger than himself he stopped their aimless wandering, made himself known to them by his voice and appearance, and quickly gathered together a considerable force. Then, going on foot with them, he retired to a tent hastily erected to shelter him, and there he bivouacked. After a brief rest, at dawn [45] he called for his generals and suggested that they should decide what to do. Without exception they advised him to return to Byzantium. In the capital a thorough inquiry into the whole affair should be held. Romanus agreed with them-- it was a course of action likely to benefit himself-- and hurried back to Constantinople.
12. There followed bitter repentance for what he had done, and self-pity for the sufferings he had endured. Then, all at once, his mood changed. His career now entered on a new and, for him, somewhat unusual phase. He hoped that by careful management of public funds he would completely recover his losses. So he became more taxgatherer than emperor. Reviving, as the proverb has it, 'pre-Euclidean history', and subjecting it to careful scrutiny, he proceeded to pry into the accounts of sons, long after their fathers were dead and gone-- a cruel thing to do. Verdicts in law-suits were not given according to the evidence submitted by the contesting parties, but he would personally take the part of one or the other. Sentence of the court, therefore, was not so much in favour of plaintiff or defendant as of himself. In his view, the whole populace was divided into two classes. On the one hand, there were the reasonable folk who preferred to live a simple, honest life and took no part in public affairs; for them the emperor cared not a straw. On the other, there were the dare-devils who enriched themselves at the expense of the rest. These latter added their own quota of evil as fuel to the general conflagration fired by their ruler, and the result was nothing but confusion and trouble. What made it more terrible was the fact, that while the great majority were being plundered and stripped, the imperial treasury enjoyed not a penny of the profits built up from these embezzlements, for the rivers of money were being diverted elsewhere. The truth of this will be shown more clearly as the story progresses.
13. This particular emperor aspired to a reputation for piety. It is quite true that he was interested in religious matters, but there was more pretence about it than real piety; anyway, he appeared to be a pious man. In the first place, this led to extravagance in discussions about problems of divinity. He would examine causes and arguments which could not be explained by mere knowledge; only if one had recourse to Mind, without any interpreting medium, could the Mysteries be made intelligible. In natural philosophy, however, he showed little interest, nor did he discuss such matters with the pro- [46] fessors, except with those who claimed (unjustly) that they were disciples of Aristotle. Romanus's studies, as one of our wise men said, were more profound, and dealt with objects comprehensible by Mind alone.
14. That was the first way he devised of showing his piety. Later on, being jealous of the great Solomon, for his building of the muchvaunted Temple, and envious of the emperor Justinian, because of the mighty church that was named after the Holy and Ineffable Wisdom, he determined to build and found, by way of recompense so to speak, another in honour of the Mother of God.**35 It was a great mistake, for what was intended to be an act of piety, turned out to be the cause of evil and the occasion for many injustices. The expenditure incurred over this church was constantly increased. Every day he collected more contributions than the work necessitated, and woe betide the man who tried to limit the building. On the other hand, anyone who invented fresh extravagances and new variations of style was sure of winning the emperor's friendship at once. Every mountain w as bored for material, and the miner's art esteemed higher than philosophy itself. Of the stones thus obtained, some were split, others polished, others turned for the sculptures, and the workers on these stones were reckoned with the like of Pheidias and Polygnotus and Zeuxis.**36 Nothing in the whole world was thought good enough for this church. All the royal treasure was made available, every golden stream poured into it. The monies were exhausted, and yet the construction went on, for one on top of another new parts were added, and at the same time some other part would be pulled down. Often, too, the work would cease and then suddenly rise up afresh, slightly bigger or with some more elaborate variety. When rivers flow into the sea, most of their water is drained away before ever it reaches the mouth, and so it was with this money, for most of what had been collected for this church was appropriated in advance and wasted on other things.
15. While Romanus manifested his piety in these activities, he showed himself a rogue from the very start, because he used money which had been contributed for quite different purposes than the building of his church. Doubtless it is a beautiful thing to love the House of the Lord, and make it magnificent, as the Psalmist tells us, and it is a fine thing to love the Tabernacle of His Glory. It is better to suffer disgrace many times in the eyes of men by serving [47] God thus, than to gain worldly riches. Such devotion is indeed noble, and who, of those that are zealous in His service and filled with the Spirit of the Lord, would bring themselves to despise it? But, surely, there should be nothing to mar this devotion. It cannot be right, in order to show one's piety, to commit great injustices, to put the whole state in confusion, to break down the whole body politic. He who rejects the harlot's offering, who utterly despises the sacrifice of the ungodly, as though the wicked were no better than a dog-- how could He in any way draw near a building, however rich and glorious, when that building is the cause of many evils? The symmetry of walls, the encircling columns, the hanging tapestries, the magnificent offerings, and the other things of like splendour -- what can they contribute to the sacred object of piety? Surely it is enough that a man's soul be clothed in godliness, that his heart be dyed in the spiritual purple, that his deeds be righteous, his thoughts full of grace. In a word, it is sufficient if a man be without guile, and because of this simple faith there is builded up within us a temple of another sort, a temple acceptable to the Lord and beloved by Him. The philosophy Romanus knew was concerned with the scholar's inquiries, the syllogisms**37 "sorites" and "outis", but in his works he had no idea at all how to show forth that philosophic spirit. Even if the emperor felt compelled to build on a more magnificent scale than anyone else, it was still his duty to care for his palace, to glorify the acropolis, to repair what had fallen in ruins, to replenish the imperial treasury, and to dedicate the money to the upkeep of his armies. Yet he neglected all this, and in order that his church might surpass all others in beauty, he reduced everything else to ruin. To tell the truth, he was mad on the work. He could scarcely tear himself away from it. So he surrounded the place with all the paraphernalia of a court, set up thrones there, adorned it with sceptres, hung up purple cloth, and spent the greater part of the year in this church, glorying in the beauty of it and beaming with pleasure. It was his wish to honour the Theometor with some name of more than ordinary beauty. Unfortunately, he failed to notice that the epithet he gave her was in fact more suited to a woman than a saint, that is, if the name "Peribleptos' does indeed mean "Celebrated'.
16. To these buildings a further addition was made and the church became a hospice for monks, so once more there began fresh wrong-doings and greater excesses than before. He was not [48] sufficiently trained in arithmetic or geometry to diminish the size or the number of his buildings, in the same way that geometricians simplify a complex pattern. So, wishing to have buildings of enormous size, he must needs have greater numbers of monks. The rest was proportionate: as there were multitudes of monks, so there were contributions in multitudes. Another world was ransacked and the sea beyond the Pillars of Hercules**38 was explored; the former was to provide seasonable sweetmeats, the latter fish of enormous size, even whales. Since it seemed to him, moreover, that Anaxagoras**39 had lied when he said the worlds were infinite, he dedicated the greater part of this finite world of ours to the glorification of his church. Piling grandeur on grandeur, multitude on multitude, surpassing the first superlative with a second, and setting no bound nor limit to these things, he would never have stopped adding to them in his boundless ambition, had not the measure of his own life been shortened.
17. There is a tradition, in fact, that his life was cut short by a certain event. I wish to speak of it, but only by way of preface at this moment. In some matters the emperor showed little respect for the accepted standards of morality. For one thing, he lived with a mistress. Perhaps, at the beginning of his reign, he wished to live chastely. Maybe-- and most folk contend that this was the truth-- he turned to fresh amours. Whatever the cause for his behaviour, he came to despise the empress Zoe. Not only did he abstain from sexual intercourse with her, but he was loath to consort with her in any way at all. She, on her side, was stirred to hate him, not only because the blood royal, meaning herself was treated with such little respect, but, above all other considerations, by her own longing for intercourse, and that was due not to her age, but to the soft and sensual manner of her life at the palace.
THE INTRODUCTION OF MICHAEL TO THE EMPEROR BY HIS BROTHER
18. There, then, is the preface to the story; the sequel came about as follows. Among other persons who served this emperor, before his accession to the throne, was a certain eunuch,**40 a man of mean and contemptible fortune, but endowed with an extremely active and ingenious mind. In his time the emperor Basil had treated this [49] man with great familiarity and had shared secrets with him. Without promoting him to any exalted positions of responsibility, he still used him with genuine respect. This eunuch had a brother, a mere youth before Romanus became emperor, but now in his early manhood. He was a finely-proportioned young man, with the fair bloom of youth in his face, as fresh as a flower, clear-eyed, and in very truth "red-cheeked'. This youth was led by his brother into the emperor's presence when he was seated with Zoe that they might see him, at the express command of Romanus. When the two men came in, the emperor, casting him one glance and asking a few brief questions, bade him retire, but stay on in the court. The effect of the interview on Zoe was quite different. Her eyes burning with a fire as dazzling as the young man's beauty, she at once fell victim to his charm, and from some mystic union between them she conceived a love for him. But most people knew nothing of that at the time.
19. Zoe could neither regard the young man with philosophic detachment, nor control her desires. Consequently, though in the past she had more than once shown her dislike for the eunuch, she now approached him frequently. Her conversations would begin with reference to some extraneous matter, and then, as if by way of digression, she would end with some remark about his brother. Let him be bold, she said, and visit her whenever he wished. The young man, so far knowing nothing of the empress's secret, supposed the invitation was due to her kindness of heart, and he accepted it, although in a modest and timorous fashion. This bashful reserve, however, only made him the more dazzling. His face, suffused with blushes, shone with a glorious colour. She eased his fear, smiling gently upon him and forgetting her usual grim arrogance. She hinted at love, tried to encourage him, and when she proceeded to give her beloved manifest opportunities to make love on his part, he set himself to answer her desire, not with any real confidence at first, but later his advances became more brazen and he acted as lovers will. Suddenly he threw his arms about her, kissing her and touching her hand and neck, as his brother had taught him he should do. She clung to him all the closer. Her kisses became more passionate, she truly loving him, he in no way desiring her (for she was past the age for love), but thinking in his heart of the glory that power would bring him. For this he was prepared to dare anything, and bear it with patience. As for those who lived in the palace, they at first only [50] suspected or conjectured what was going or., but afterwards, when the affair broke all bounds of modesty, everyone knew of it. There was nobody who did not perceive how it was going, for their embraces had already ended in carnal union, and they were discovered by several people sleeping together on the same couch. He blushed with shame and was filled with apprehension for the outcome of this, but she did not conceal it. In the eyes of all, she clung to him and offered her kisses, boasting that she had more than once had joy of him.
23. That she should adorn him, as if he were some statue, cover him with gold, make him resplendent with rings and garments of woven gold cloth, I do not regard as anything remarkable, for what would an empress not provide for her beloved? But she, unknown to the world, sometimes went so far as to seat him, turn by turn with herself, on the imperial throne, to put in his hand a sceptre; and on one occasion even deemed him worthy of a crown. Thereupon she would throw her arms about him all over again, calling him her "idol', "the delight of her eyes', "the flower of beauty', "the comfort of her soul'. As she repeated this again and again, she was observed by one of those who have eyes for everything. This fellow was a eunuch who had been put in supreme charge of the imperial court, a man respected for his dignified bearing, as well as for his exalted position, and a family retainer of the empress. When he saw this extraordinary sight, he almost expired, so amazed was he. She, however, called him to her side-- he was by now at his last gasp-- and she reassured him, for he was utterly confounded, and bade him attach himself to Michael, as he was already emperor and soon would be emperor without dispute.
21. Although nobody else whatever had been deluded in all this, it did not come to the knowledge of the emperor. Romanus was so completely blind. However, when the flash of the lightning and the roar of the thunder did eventually play round his eyes and deafen his ears, when he himself saw some things going on and heard of others, even then, as if he preferred to be blind and deaf, he closed his eyes again and refused to listen. Worse than that, many a time when he was sleeping with the empress and she, clothed in some garment of purple, was waiting for him to lie down on their couch, he would call for Michael, bidding him come alone, and order him to touch and massage his feet. In fact, he made him servant of the [51] bedchamber, and in order that the young man might do this office, deliberately abandoned his wife to him. When his sister Pulcheria and some of the chamberlains discovered a plot against his life and told him of it and warned him to be on his guard, still he did not destroy the secret adulterer and cut short the whole drama, as he could have done. He could have suggested any reason but the real one and still have had his way, but he refused. In fact, he made no effort to combat the intrigue. Once he did send for the lover--or the beloved-- and questioned him about the affair; however, as Michael pretended to know nothing about it, Romanus made him give his word of honour and swear by the Holy Relics, and after the other had completely perjured himself, the emperor looked upon the stories of the rest as mere calumny, listening only to Michael and calling him 'his most faithful servant'.
22. Another factor helped to confirm the emperor in this attitude, so that Michael's guilt seemed even more unlikely. Ever since his childhood the young man had been afflicted by a terrible illness. This malady took the form of a periodic derangement of the brain. Without any previous symptoms he would be suddenly confused, roll his eyes, throw himself down on the ground, bang his head, and suffer prolonged and convulsive fits. Then he would become himself again and gradually return to his normal appearance. The emperor had seen him afflicted by this illness and was sorry for him. He thought the young man unfortunate. His madness, therefore, he did recognize, but he failed to recognize his indulgence in the pleasures of love. To most folk it seemed that this malady was a pretext and veil for Michael's scheming, and the suspicion would have been justified, were it not for the fact that, when he became emperor, he still continued to suffer from this derangement. However, discussion of that problem must be postponed to the part of my history concerned with Michael's reign. We can say that the trouble was not self-induced. Equally, we can say that the malady, which had no pretence about it, served as a veil to hide his designs.
23. To convince the emperor, therefore, that those who loved one another were not really in love, was no great task, for he was very easily convinced. I had a conversation with one of the gentlemen who regularly attended the imperial court at that time, a man well acquainted with the whole question of Zoe's love-affairs, and one who supplied me with material for this history, and he told me that [52] Romanus did wish, in a way, to be convinced that she was not Michael's paramour. On the other hand, he knew she was greatly attracted to the opposite sex, on fire with passion, so to speak. So, to prevent her sharing her favours among many, he was not particularly disgusted at her association with one. Although he pretended not to see it, he allowed the empress to satisfy her desires to the full. I have been told another version of the story. The emperor, according to my other informant, was indulgent towards his wife's amorous intentions or their consummation, but his sister Pulcheria was enraged, and so were all those whom she treated as her confidants. So she and they waged war with Michael and the empress. The arrangements for the struggle did not pass unnoticed, but their anticipated triumphs never came to pass, for the sister died not long after, while of her friends one also died suddenly and another left the palace, at the express desire of the emperor. As to the rest, some approved of the business, others held their tongues. Zoe and Michael, therefore, far from consummating their love in an underhand way, did so with an almost legal sanction.
THE EMPEROR'S ILLNESS
24. What happened next? I will tell you. An illness of all unusual and painful character befell Romanus. Actually, the whole of his body became festering and corrupted inside. At any rate, from then onwards, he lost most of his appetite, and sleep, poised on his eyelids, quickly flitted away. All the ill-humours fell upon him together -- harshness of character, peevishness of spirit, anger and wrath and shouting, things unknown in him before. All his life, from his earliest years, he had been a friendly sort of man; now, it became not only hard to get into his presence, but hard to get a civil reply to one's questions. Laughter deserted him, and his former graciousness and pleasant nature. He trusted nobody at all, nor did he seem to others trustworthy himself. Each party suspected and was suspected by the other. His lack of generosity now became more pronounced. The distributions of money that he made were niggardly in any case, and he was savagely angry at every request for it. Every tale of pity only succeeded in irritating him. Yet, despite the dreadful condition of his health, he neither neglected the usual court ceremonial nor did he overlook the importance of the imperial processions. He even [53] clothed himself in magnificent robes shot with gold and put on the rest of the paraphernalia proper to these occasions. It was like a heavy load to him, in his weakened condition, and after returning to the palace with difficulty, he was more ill than ever.
25. I have often seen him myself when he was distressed during these processions (at the time I was just under sixteen years of age) and he differed little from a man who was dead. His whole face was swollen and the colour of it was no more handsome to look upon than that of men three days dead in the tombs. His breathing was fast, and after moving a few paces he had to rest. Most of the hairs on his head had fallen out, as though he were a corpse, but a few strands, scattered here and there, were tousled round his forehead, moved, I suppose, by his breathing. The others despaired of his life, but he himself was by no means without hope. He had put himself in the hands of the doctors and he expected to be restored to health by their skill.
THE EMPEROR'S DEATH
26. Whether the loving couple themselves and their accomplices committed a very horrible crime against him, I would not say with any certainty, because it is no easy thing for me to bring accusations in matters that I still do not thoroughly understand.**41 However, it was universally accepted among the rest that they first bewitched him with drugs, and later had recourse to a mixture of hellebore as well. I am not disputing that for the moment-- it may or may not be true -- but I do maintain that Zoe and Michael were the cause of his death. His state of health being what it was, the emperor made his preparations for the Resurrection that awaits all of us alike. At the same time, he was making himself ready for the public services on the morrow (Good Friday). Before dawn he set out to bathe in one of the baths situated near the imperial quarters. There was no one to assist him, and he was certainly not at death's door then. He got up in a perfectly normal way to anoint and bathe himself and take his aperitives. So he entered the bath. First he washed his head, then drenched his body as well, and as he was breathing strongly, he proceeded to the swimming bath, which had been deepened in the middle. To begin with, he enjoyed himself swimming on the surface and floating lightly, blowing out and refreshing himself with the [54] greatest of pleasure. Later on, some of his retinue came in to support him and give him a rest, according to his own orders.**42 Whether they made an attempt on the emperor's life after they entered the bath I cannot say with any conviction. At any rate, those who see some connection between these events and the rest of their version, say that when Romanus plunged his head under the water-- his usual custom-- they all pressed his neck and held him down for some considerable time, after which they let him go and went away. The air inside him, however, caused his body to rise and it brought him to the surface, almost breathless. There he floated about in a haphazard way, like a cork. When he had recovered a little and saw in what an evil plight he was, he stretched out his hand and begged someone to take hold of it and help him to his feet. In pity for him, and because of his sad condition, one man did indeed go to his aid. Putting his arms round him, he drew him up out of the water and carried him to a couch, where he laid him, just as he was, in a pitiable state. At this an uproar ensued. Several persons came into the room, among them the empress herself, without