Papers from the First and Second Postgraduate Forums in Byzantine Studies : Sailing to Byzantium [1 ed.] 9781443815123, 9781443811026

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Papers from the First and Second Postgraduate Forums in Byzantine Studies: Sailing to Byzantium

Papers from the First and Second Postgraduate Forums in Byzantine Studies: Sailing to Byzantium

Edited by

Savvas Neocleous

Papers from the First and Second Postgraduate Forums in Byzantine Studies: Sailing to Byzantium, Edited by Savvas Neocleous This book first published 2009 Cambridge Scholars Publishing 12 Back Chapman Street, Newcastle upon Tyne, NE6 2XX, UK

British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

Copyright © 2009 by Savvas Neocleous and contributors All rights for this book reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the copyright owner. ISBN (10): 1-4438-1102-5, ISBN (13): 978-1-4438-1102-6

To my parents, Constantinos and Despo, as a very small token of my gratitude for their love and support over the years

TABLE OF CONTENTS List of Figures..........................................................................................................ix List of Tables...........................................................................................................xi Acknowledgments.................................................................................................xiii Introduction...............................................................................................................1 Savvas Neocleous Part I: History and Historiography Byzantium and Jerusalem, 813-975: From Indifference to Intervention..................7 Konstantinos Ikonomopoulos Is the Contemporary Latin Historiography of the First Crusade and Its Aftermath “Anti-Byzantine”?.................................................................................27 Savvas Neocleous Anti-Byzantine Polemic in the Dei Gesta per Francos of Guibert, Abbot of Nogent-Sous-Coucy............................................................................................53 Léan Ní Chléirigh Part II: Theology Anianus Celedensis Translator of John Chrysostom’s Homilies on Matthew: A Pelagian Interpretation?......................................................................77 Emilio Bonfiglio Eriugena’s Use of Byzantine Biblical Exegesis in His Commentary on the Fourth Gospel..................................................................................................105 Dan Batovici Part III: Philology and Literature The Florilegium Coislinianum and Byzantine Encyclopaedism..........................127 Tomás Fernández

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The Circulation of Poetry in Eleventh-Century Byzantium..................................145 Floris Bernard Part IV: Politics and Rhetoric Advice and Praise for the Ruler: Making Political Strategies in Manuel II Palaiologos’s Dialogue on Marriage....................................................................163 Florin Leonte Part V: History of Art and Cult Christ and the Angelic Tetramorphs: The Meaning of the Eighth-Century Apsidal Conch at Santa Maria Antiqua in Rome..................................................183 Eileen Rubery “Frankish” or “Byzantine” Saint? The Origins of the Cult of Saint Martin in Dalmatia............................................................................................................221 Trpimir Vedriš Contributors...........................................................................................................251 Index......................................................................................................................253

LIST OF FIGURES Fig. 7-1: Vat. Gr. 676, fol. iv. Reproduced by permission of the Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana..............................................................................................151 Fig. 7-2: Vat. Gr. 676, fol. 26v. Reproduced by permission of the Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana..............................................................................................157 Fig. 9-1: The apse fresco at Santa Maria Antiqua (757-67). Christ stands in the centre; to his right the square halo of Pope Paul I (757-67) is still visible (see arrow); between him and Christ the edge of a further halo is just visible, even though most of the body is missing; either side, are two tetramorphs, each with four nimbed heads and six wings. Drawing by E. Rubery...................185 Fig. 9-2: Detail of tetramorph angel on the right side of the apse fresco at Santa Maria Antiqua showing the four heads, six wings, hands, feet and trolley/chariot. Drawing by E. Rubery..................................................................187 Fig. 9-3: Detail of the head of the tetramorph from the apse fresco at Santa Maria Antiqua. The fine lines around the edge of the haloes and wings and radiating out from the halo of the angel are drawn in black, but are in fact white lines in the fresco. Drawing by E. Rubery..................................................187 Fig. 9-4: The sixth-century apse mosaic at Santi Cosma e Damiano. The rectangular dotted line encloses the compositional arrangement that can be considered as contributing to the central section of the Santa Maria Antiqua conch. Drawing by E. Rubery...............................................................................189 Fig. 9-5: The sixth-century apse mosaic at San Michele in Africisco, Ravenna (now at the Bode Museum, Berlin). Christ in the centre is flanked by the archangels Gabriel and Michael. The sides of the arch originally included images of Santi Cosma e Damiano. Drawing by E. Rubery.................................192 Fig. 9-6: The sixth-century apse at San Vitale, Ravenna, with Christ, seated on a globe and holding a scroll, offering a martyr’s wreath to San Vitale, and flanked by two unnamed angels. The bishop of Ravenna on the right holds a model of the church, which he offers to Christ. Drawing by E. Rubery...............193

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Fig. 9-7: The apse at San Dodo in Georgia, possibly seventh century, with an enthroned Christ in a mandorla, the tetramorph and archangel on the right are hidden by the curve of the apse. Either side of the head of Christ are clipei containing images of the Sun (on the left) and Moon (on the right). There is a small apical “palanquin of heaven” from which rays may emerge but probably no hand of God or laurel wreath. Drawing by E. Rubery…..................194 Fig. 9-8: Detail of the right tetramorph in the apse at San Dodo, Georgia, showing the wheels, trolley/chariot, hands, feet and fire. Drawing by E. Rubery...................................................................................................................195 Fig. 9-9: Christ in a mandorla supported by a tetramorph and two angels from the Ascension page of the Rabbula Gospels (sixth century). Christ is nimbed but not with a cruciform nimbus, and contained within the mandorla except where his right foot touches the wing of the tetramorph. MedicaeanLaurentian Library, Florence. Plut 1, 56. Drawing by E. Rubery.........................196 Fig. 9-10: Tetramorph from the centre of a ripidium or liturgical fan from the time of Justin II (565-78), which is now in the Dumbarton Oaks Collection, 16.23. Washington D. C. (sixth century). Drawing by E. Rubery........................197 Fig. 9-11: Manuscript illumination of the Vision of Isaiah, from the Christian Topography of Cosmas Indicopleustes, Vat. Grec. 699 in the Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana. Christ is flanked by two seraphim, each with six wings. To the right an angel places a coal in the mouth of Isaiah. Drawing by E. Rubery...................................................................................................................200 Fig. 10-1: Late Antique Dalmatia and Early Medieval Croatia............................225 Fig. 10-2: Late Antique sites connected to the cult of St Martin in the surroundings of Zadar...........................................................................................231 Fig. 10-3: The church of St Martin in Pridraga (Photo: T. Vedriš)......................233 Fig. 10-4: Late Antique-Early Byzantine churches of St Martin along the limes marritimus in Dalmatia................................................................................238

LIST OF TABLES Table 4-1: Manuscripts preserving Anianus’s translation of John Chrysostom’s Commentary on Matthew..............................................................82-3 Table 4-2: Manuscripts used by R. Skalitzky in her critical edition of Anianus................................................................................................................83-4 Table 9-1: The relationship between the Evangelists and the four living creatures according to Irenaeus, Jerome and Gregory the Great..........................203

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS I would like to express my gratitude to the following referees who reviewed papers submitted for publication in this volume: Professor Leslie Brubaker Professor Alexander Beihammer Professor Niels Gaul Professor Wolfram Hörandner Dr Jonathan Harris Dr Ruth Macrides Dr Tom Asbridge Dr Maria G. Parani Dr Stavroula Constantinou Dr Barbara Crostini

INTRODUCTION In October 2006 I conceived the idea of an international forum for postgraduate students and early-career researchers working in the field of Byzantine Studies. A conference to that effect, Sailing to Byzantium, was hosted by the Centre for Medieval and Renaissance Studies, Trinity College Dublin, on 17-18 April 2007. The title, of course, was drawn from the poem of William Butler Yeats but it reflected not just a fortuitous link with Irish literature but the aim of the symposium, which was to present a challenging and fruitful journey to Byzantium through the eyes of a new generation of scholars who have chosen its history and culture as their research focus. Furthermore, in an era when the usefulness of interdisciplinary and multidisciplinary studies has been fully appreciated, this symposium was designed to bring together postgraduate researchers from various areas of Byzantine Studies, providing them an all-too-rare occasion to present their research, exchange new ideas, and meet, in an interdisciplinary context, people with whom they share the same research interests. The First Postgraduate Forum in Byzantine Studies: Sailing to Byzantium was opened on 17 April 2007 by the Head of the Centre for Medieval and Renaissance Studies, Dr Sarah Alyn Stacey. Dr Jonathan Harris of Royal Holloway, University of London, provided the opening lecture: “Playing the Endgame: New Approaches to Byzantium’s Last Century.” The following day, twelve papers on many diverse facets of Byzantine Studies were delivered by researchers from various universities across Europe: the University of Oxford (Exeter College, Pembroke College, Keble College, Linacre College); Trinity College Dublin; Ghent University; Queen’s University Belfast; Courtauld Institute of Art; Royal Holloway University of London; and University of Bucharest. Motivated by the success of the 2007 conference, the following year saw the Second Postgraduate Forum in Byzantine Studies: Sailing to Byzantium again hosted by the Centre for Medieval and Renaissance Studies, Trinity College Dublin, on 15-16 May 2008. Dr Ruth Macrides of the University of Birmingham delivered the plenary lecture, entitled “Ceremonies and the City: Constantinople and the Court in the Fourteenth Century.” Thirteen papers were presented by researchers from the University of Paris 1 Pantheon-Sorbonne; the Katholieke Universiteit Leuven; Trinity College Dublin; Queen’s University Belfast; Royal Holloway University of London; University of Silesia, Katowice; Central European University, Budapest; and Anadolu University, Eskiúehir. Recognising that the two conferences had brought together much that was fresh in Byzantine Studies, but also the relatively large number of contributions, the decision was made to publish in this volume a selected number of essays based on

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Introduction

the conference papers. All the essays submitted for publication were reviewed by appropriately selected academic referees and those agreed to meet the required academic standards are published in this volume. We begin with Konstantinos Ikonomopoulos’s study on the relations between the Byzantine Empire and the city of Jerusalem in the period 813-975. As Ikonomopoulos argues, in this period the relations between the Byzantine Empire and Jerusalem went through a distinct evolution, traceable in distinct timeframes and taking on specific aspects. They began with an attitude of indifference and hostility during iconoclasm, shown in the exchanges between the city and the Amorian emperors, especially Theophilos (829-42), to one of looking at Jerusalem as a prestige objective, useful for legitimising various aspects of the emperors’ rule, as seen during the reigns of Basil I (867-86) and Leo VI (886-912). Finally, the city became a target for military conquest in the middle of the tenth century after the reign of Constantine VII (913-59), with Jerusalem being seen as one of the main targets of the Byzantine campaigns against the Muslims in Syria. My essay revisits a view prevailing in modern scholarship, namely that the Latin historiography of the First Crusade and its aftermath is “anti-Byzantine” or “anti-Greek”. Making full use of a wide range of primary sources written during the first four decades of the twelfth century, I attempt to demonstrate the falsity of this thesis, which has long been perpetuated in an uncritical way by modern scholars. At the same time, I argue that the Greeks, who lived within or outside the confines of the Byzantine Empire, were generally regarded by the Latins as Christian brethren. Léan Ní Chléirigh traces the attitudes of Guibert, Abbot of Nogent-sousCoucy, towards the Byzantines and their emperor Alexios I Komnenos as can be seen in his chronicle of the First Crusade, Dei Gesta per Francos. Guibert, along with his contemporaries, Robert the Monk and Baldric of Dol, has been largely overlooked as a source for the First Crusade as his chronicle was largely derivative of its source, the anonymous Gesta Francorum. As a source for Western attitudes towards the Byzantines in the immediate aftermath of the First Crusade and its tributary Crusade of 1101, the Dei Gesta is extremely important however. Léan Ní Chléirigh argues that in the Dei Gesta Guibert criticised the Eastern Christians and their emperor on a religious, political and ethnic basis. Emilio Bonfiglio’s article presents an outline of the translation procedure followed by Anianus Celedensis in rendering the Greek text of John Chrysostom into Latin. As past scholarship has demonstrated that Anianus considers himself to be a Pelagian, Bonfiglio questions whether Anianus manipulated the original Greek text to make Chrysostom a champion of Pelagianism. An analysis of selected passages of Anianus’s Latin translation of the ninth homily of Chrysostom’s Commentary on Matthew shows that, although small changes in the Latin version often affect the syntax and the imagery of the Greek original,

Papers from the First and Second Postgraduate Forums in Byzantine Studies

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Anianus’s version for the present can be explained more as stylistically rather than ideologically conditioned. Dan Batovici investigates the way Eriugena presents and uses his Greek sources, the analysis being centered on three authors: Pseudo-Dionysus, Gregory of Nazianzus and Maximus the Confessor. Batovici’s essay also contains a brief account of the perspectives on both Eriugenian biblical exegesis and Eriugena’s use of the Greek Fathers in past scholarship, before moving to the investigation on the Commentary on the Gospel of John. As such, the paper concludes that Eriugena is far from being a sheer presenter of the Byzantine biblical exegesis: he is as present in citing as he is present in interpreting a given source. In his paper, Tomás Fernández presents the concept of Byzantine Encyclopaedism, focusing on one work that should be numbered among “Byzantine encyclopaedias”, the Florilegium Coislinianum. Fernández briefly discusses its sources and structure, and then proceeds to a detailed comparison between this florilegium and one that almost certainly was its formal model, the well-known Sacra Parallela, attributed to John Damascene. As Fernández concludes, this latter work has very likely been not only a structural influence but also, in its original, non-preserved recension, a source for large portions of the text of the Florilegium Coislinianum. Floris Bernard investigates the various conditions of circulation and reception of poems in eleventh-century Byzantium. Bernard discusses the aesthetic principles by which the poetry books of Mauropous and Christophoros Mitylenaios were constructed, and traces some other, earlier, collections of poems. The initial circulation of separate poems in a limited circle of readers is illustrated by some examples in Mauropous and Mitylenaios, with attention for the social consequences of being included in the readership of poems. Bernard further gives a preliminary sketch of a poetic event by Mauropous, in which the offering of a poem in material form went hand in hand with oral delivery. Florin Leonte explores the political implications of the Dialogue with the Empress-Mother on Marriage, authored by Manuel II Palaiologos (1391-1425). Leonte argues that, despite its domestic topic, the Dialogue was not just a piece of rhetoric intended exclusively for the entertainment of a gathering of connoisseurs from the imperial court. Instead, it focuses on the discussion between the emperor and his mother which pertains to practical and theoretical aspects of state administration. By bridging orality and highbrow rhetoric, Manuel II Palaiologos seemingly tries to convey a message of legitimising his own authority against internal threats of usurpation coming especially from his nephew John VII Palaiologos (1390), an internal ally of the Ottomans. A surviving fresco in Rome commissioned by Pope Paul I (757-67) depicts him being presented to an imposing Christ flanked by two tetramorph angels. This fresco occupies the apsidal conch of the church of Santa Maria Antiqua in the

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Roman Forum. Notwithstanding its unusual iconography, this fresco has not previously been critically analysed. Eileen Rubery places the fresco, for a first time, in its artistic context in both Rome and the East, and then considers it within the frame of contemporary political concerns in Rome during the papacy’s debate with the Eastern Empire over iconoclasm. The developing writings of the Church Fathers on images, and the role of the Eastern monks in Rome at the time are also taken into account. Departing from the traditional historical narrative that the areas along the eastern Adriatic coast were under Byzantine rule from at least the age of Justinian (527-65) until the late eleventh century, Trpimir Vedriš focuses on the local hagiotopography in order to address the problem of the chronological layers of the cult of St Martin of Tours and the directions of its dissemination in the region. Critically assessing the “Carolingian thesis” according to which the cult of St Martin was introduced in Dalmatia only by the Franks in the ninth century, Vedriš constructs a more complex picture in which substantial importance is given to the lasting results of Justinian’s reconquista. As a result, Frankish promotion of the cult is seen as yet another aspect of a Carolingian renovatio which actually preserved many features of cultural and religious continuity. The ten essays contained in this volume, as well as the fifteen more that were presented at Dublin in 2007 and 2008, demonstrate that a new generation of scholars are carrying out a laborious task of painstakingly reinvigorating the field of Byzantine Studies with fresh perspectives. Savvas Neocleous Trinity College Dublin

Part I: History and Historiography

BYZANTIUM AND JERUSALEM, 813-975: FROM INDIFFERENCE TO INTERVENTION KONSTANTINOS IKONOMOPOULOS The policy of the Byzantine Empire concerning the city of Jerusalem during the years 813 to 975 went through a process of evolution, ranging from almost total indifference in the beginning, seeing the city as a distant objective, to active intervention aiming at its capture during the end of the tenth century. This evolution had distinct phases, with interest in Jerusalem steadily increasing, until direct action was taken against its Muslim masters. The year 813 was chosen as the start since it was the year during which Michael the Synkellos of Jerusalem visited Constantinople on his way to Rome, while the year 975 as the end because it was the year that the purported campaign of John I Tzimiskes (969-76) against Fatimid-held Jerusalem took place. The various episodes in the years in-between these show how imperial policy changed; there are no sources setting out exactly what it was, so we have to rely on secondary information, which is available in differing quality and quantity, however it all points to increasing Byzantine power attempting to reclaim the Holy City of Christendom. An important fact that should be noted in the beginning is that Byzantine diplomacy towards both the Abbasid (and by extension the Tulunids) and the Fatimid caliphates during this period never involved Jerusalem, especially since it could be considered “essentially ‘reactive’ and ‘prophylactic’,”1 meaning that concessions in the city were not pursued during the timeframe covered, although the situation changed a lot in the eleventh century. Michael, the synkellos of the Patriarch of Jerusalem, was sent to Constantinople in 813 with a letter to the patriarch in Constantinople, Theodotos by name, who was leader of the heresy of the image-burners, and to the Emperor Leo [Leo V (813-20)] of Armenian descent that they might perhaps be able to turn them away from the

1

Hugh Kennedy, “Byzantine-Arab Diplomacy in the Near East from the Islamic Conquests to the Mid-Eleventh Century,” in Byzantine Diplomacy, eds Jonathan Shepard and Simon Franklin (Aldershot: Ashgate, 1992), 133.

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Konstantinos Ikonomopoulos heresy of the icon-fighters and lead them to the catholic, apostolic, and orthodox Church.2

The imperial capital, however, was only a stop before his final destination, the Holy See in Rome, where his mission was to consult with Pope Leo III (795-816) on the Filioque clause, as well as to raise funds to pay for a new tax that the “godless Hagarenes”3 had levied on the Church of the Holy Sepulchre and others in Jerusalem. The reasons for his embassy to Rome are important in establishing the initial indifference of Constantinople towards Jerusalem. The fact that he had to travel all the way to Rome in order to get financial help clearly suggests that he was unable to secure it in Byzantium, as the empire was unwilling to get help, so funds to pay for fines and repair damaged churches would have to be sought from the West, either from the papacy or the Carolingian Empire.4 The empire was not unable, as it had done so two years earlier, when Christian refugees from Palestine were fleeing the fighting and persecution there. The Emperor Michael I (811-13) had given them money and shelter within the empire.5 This time though, the monks sent by Jerusalem were apparently met with complete indifference as to their plight, and the most probable reason is the only reason for their stop in Constantinople: iconoclasm. Christian churches outside of the empire never accepted the doctrine of not venerating and destroying icons. Indeed, with the exception of the capital, the veneration of icons carried on more or less as usual. The monks who came from Jerusalem, carrying letters of rebuke were clearly an annoyance to the emperor. This is evident from the reaction to Michael the Synkellos’s mission: after gaining an audience with the Emperor Leo V, his castigation of iconoclasm enraged the emperor so badly that he had him and his companions “beaten severely and confined within the prison of the Phiale.”6 The exasperation felt towards them was also expressed by the Emperor Theophilos (829-42) in the following conversation with the companions of Michael, Theophanes and Theodore:

2 The Life of Michael the Synkellos, trans. Mary Cunningham (Belfast: Belfast Byzantine Enterprises, 1991), 58-9. 3 Ibid., 56-7. 4 Klaus Bieberstein, “Der Gesandtenaustausch zwischen Karl dem Grossen und HƗrnjn arRašid und seine Bedeutung für die Kirchen Jerusalems,” Zeitschrift des Deutschen Palästina-Vereins 109 (1993); Michael Borgolte, Der Gesandtenaustausch der Karolinger mit den Abbasiden und mit den Patriarchen von Jerusalem (Munich: Arbeo-Gesellschaft, 1976). 5 Theophanes the Confessor, ̙ΕΓΑΓ·Ε΅Κϟ΅, ed. Carl de Boor, vol. 1 (Leipzig: Teubner, 1883-5), 499. 6 The Life of Michael the Synkellos, 68-9.

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He asked “where do you come from?” and they replied “from Palestine.” And the criminal then said “why then do you obey the rulers of your land but when you come here you do not follow our kingship?”7

This dialogue shows two important facts: that while the Byzantine emperor recognised Jerusalem, as a physical location, was under the rule of the caliphate, he still considered its Christian inhabitants to be subjects of the Byzantine Empire. This notion is reinforced if Byzantine court ritual is seen in context. It is evident that Michael’s party were not treated as ambassadors sent from a foreign power, (be it the caliphate or the Patriarchate of Jerusalem) and were treated as any imperial citizen would, especially when their fate and the diplomatic protocol are contrasted. The Palestinian priests were subjected to lengthy imprisonment, as mentioned above, exile, while the two brothers Theophanes and Theodore were further humiliated and tortured by having their faces tattooed with iambic verses for not communicating with the iconoclasts.8 Behaviour such as this towards foreign dignitaries was quite unusual in the Byzantine court. Other discrepancies with the protocol are also apparent in the priests’ audience with the emperor. The whole audience ritual was scripted and controlled to the last detail as we know from two particular sources, the Kletorologion of Philotheos,9 written in the ninth century, and the later work of the Emperor Constantine VII (913-59) on court ritual,10 to which the entirety of the Kletorologion is appended. Obviously the former work is more relevant to the time period of Michael’s visit as they were both of the ninth century (albeit with a difference of seventy years), however the inclusion of Philotheos’s work in De Cerimoniis means that court ritual did not significantly change, if at all. Once the foreign dignitary was admitted to the presence of the emperor he had to prostrate himself,11 and then enter into specific dialogue with a court official, the

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George the Monk Continuatus, ̅ϟΓ΍ȱΘЗΑȱΑνΝΑȱΆ΅Η΍ΏνΝΑ, ed. Emmanuel Bekker (Bonn: Weber, 1838), 806-7. 8 Ibid.,ȱ 807; The Life of Michael the Synkellos, 84-7; Joseph Genesios, Regum Libri Quattuor, eds Anni Lesmüller-Werner and Hans Thurn (Berlin, New York: de Gruyter, 1978), 52. For further information on the lives of the two brothers and Michael the Synkellos, see Claudia Sode, Jerusalem-Konstantinopel-Rom Die Viten des Michael Synkellos und der Brüder Graptoi (Stuttgart: Franz Steiner Verlag, 2001). 9 Nicolas Oikonomides, Les listes de préséance Byzantines des IXe et Xe siècles (Paris: Éditions du Centre National de la Recherche Scientifique, 1972). 10 Constantine Porphyrogennitos, De Cerimoniis Aulae Byzantinae, ed. Johann Jacob Reiske (Bonn: Weber, 1829-30). 11 Jonathan Shepard, “Byzantine Diplomacy, A.D. 800-1204: Means and Ends,” in Byzantine Diplomacy, eds Jonathan Shepard and Simon Franklin (Aldershot: Ashgate, 1992), 71.

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logothete.12 The Palestinian priests did no such thing. They stood, σΗΘ΋Η΅Αȱ σΐΔΕΓΗΌΉΑȱ ΘΓІȱ Ά΅Η΍ΏνΝΖ,13 instead of prostrating themselves, and they also entered into direct conversation with Leo V instead of addressing the logothete as any foreign envoy would. The same exact pattern occurred in their audience with Theophilos.14 This discrepancy between official protocol and the actions of the Palestinian emissaries suggests that the Byzantine emperors considered these priests not as envoys of a foreign power,15 but rather as imperial citizens living under foreign rule. Of course we have to be clear that an hagiographical source might not be wholly truthful in its account, especially since in 813 iconoclasm had not been re-introduced, and that the author of the vita of Michael might not have wanted his protagonist debase himself in front of a heretical emperor, but the breaches in protocol are quite clear, as is the fact that these people (and in extension those whom they were representing) were thought of as rebellious imperial subjects. The fate of Lazaros, a Byzantine icon maker who was tortured using similar methods further reinforces the opinion that these men were thought of as imperial subjects. It should be noted that all of these men were foreigners: the Graptoi brothers were from Palestine and Lazaros was a Chazar.16 Another piece of evidence showing the interaction between Constantinople and Jerusalem in the mid-ninth century is a letter by the three Eastern patriarchs to the Emperor Theophilos concerning iconoclasm, written after a purported synod held in Jerusalem during 836.17 The letter’s authenticity is in doubt, and it is thought that it was a Byzantine forgery. Griffith argues that the letter was a literary product of Byzantium and that there is no evidence of traffic between Jerusalem and Constantinople in the ninth century.18 While the issue of its authenticity is far from resolved and outside this paper’s scope, a Byzantine forgery in the name of the patriarch of Jerusalem illustrates the views held by Byzantium concerning the city 12

Constantine Porphyrogennitos, De Cerimoniis, vol. 1, 680. The Life of Michael the Synkellos, 62-3. 14 Ibid., 82-3. 15 For example, Papal emissaries had their own paragraph detailing their reception, while the representatives of the Eastern Patriarchates did not, nor were they listed amongst other powers. 16 Cyril Mango, “The Liquidation of Iconoclasm and the Patriarch Photios,” in Iconoclasm. Papers Given at the Ninth Spring Symposium of Byzantine Studies. University of Birmingham, March 1975, eds Anthony Bryer and Judith Herrin (Birmingham: Centre for Byzantine Studies University of Birmingham, 1977), 134. 17 The Letter of the Three Patriarchs to Emperor Theophilos and Related Texts, eds Joseph Munitiz et al. (Camberley: Porphyrogenitus, 1997). 18 Stanley Griffith, “What has Constantinople to do with Jerusalem? Palestine in the Ninth Century: Byzantine Orthodoxy in the World of Islam,” in Byzantium in the Ninth Century: Dead or Alive?, ed. Leslie Brubaker (Aldershot: Ashgate, 1998), 183. 13

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even better, as it shows the ideal way that Jerusalem would interact with and think of the empire in general, and the person of the emperor in particular. The Emperor Theophilos is addressed as the most powerful emperor, advanced by God, supported by God, crowned by God, solemnly crowned in glory and honour by the divine ... powerful and almighty ... victorious, triumphant, eternal Augustus and God-honoured despot.19

This is the same emperor who had tortured and imprisoned the envoys of the patriarch of Jerusalem before, and who was still considered an iconoclast heretic. While Theophilos and his predecessors were given the title of basileus by Michael’s biographer, thus showing that the Melkites still considered themselves to be, at least nominally, under the emperor’s power, they were also referred to as heretics and criminals, and the letter entrusted to Michael by the patriarch of Jerusalem was much harsher in its tone than the one of the three patriarchs. Also, it is quite hard to reconcile the fact that an emperor considered a heretic would be referred to as supported and crowned by God, especially in a letter trying to advise him in the error of his religious ways, thus showing that it probably originated in Constantinople and followed official form of address. By calling upon divine favour for Theophilos’s rule, the letter contradicts the impression given by the earlier mission of Michael the Synkellos, which had the exact same goal. It serves to legitimise the emperor’s position as the ruler of all Eastern Christians, as mention is made of the “entire great catholic and apostolic Church,”20 and that the three patriarchs were his “humble and true servants [and] proclaim the praises of [his] imperial grandeur.”21 The most important passage in the letter though, at least as far as this paper is concerned, is the one where Theophilos is called upon to liberate the Eastern Christians from the Muslims. It is clearly written that he “shall hold sway in the midst of [his] enemies.”22 There is also mention of his victories over the Arabs and the expectation that even though Jerusalem belonged to a barbarian enemy there was “hope for the former state of our imperial happiness and most tranquil life to be restored once more.”23 With the established hostility existing between the empire and the Christians in the east over iconoclasm, it is difficult to believe that they would have wanted to be governed by a heretical emperor, especially given the treatment of iconophiles inside the empire. The notion that the letter was a forgery is further strengthened by the fact that Theophilos was waging an offensive against the Arabs at the time the letter 19

The Letter of the Three Patriarchs, 2-3. Emphasis added. Ibid., 10-11. 21 Ibid., 12-13. 22 Ibid. 23 Ibid., 14-15. 20

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was written (836), and it would serve as a great propaganda tool for him to appear as the saviour and ruler of all Christians, who were impatiently waiting for him to be liberated. A letter by them lauding the emperor and submitting to him would have been a great coup for him. The letter, forgery or not, shows that despite the indifference shown towards Jerusalem, a theoretical movement to liberate it had started to appear, even if at this stage it was still in its infancy and primarily used for internal consumption. It also shows that there was a need to be approved by Jerusalem, a trend that would carry on for the remainder of the ninth century and into the tenth. The need for Byzantine emperors to have the approval of Jerusalem can be seen from the reinstatement into the patriarchal throne of Constantinople of Ignatios (847-58, 867-77) in 867. The Emperor Basil I (867-86) wished to ally with the papacy, so he had to remove Patriarch Photios (858-67, 877-86) who had fallen into schism with the pope. He replaced him with his predecessor Ignatios in 867. From Ignatios’s vita we learn that the emperor sent “gifts and letters to the ruler of Syria”24 in order for him to allow the Eastern patriarchs to send legates to witness the crowning of Ignatios. This need for ecclesiastical sanction for his deposition of Photios and installing of Ignatios shows the prestige attached to Jerusalem and also ties in with the letter to Theophilos, who wanted to legitimise his iconoclastic doctrine in the face of opposition from the Churches outside the empire. In this case, Jerusalem sent Elias the Synkellos who sat next to the emperor during the ceremony.25 In the proceedings of the eighth Ecumenical Council we see further evidence of the patriarch of Jerusalem considering himself to be bound towards the emperor, whom he refers to as “our God appointed despot,”26 asking him to intercede with the local emir by freeing Saracen prisoners in order to reduce his anger. Theodosios of Jerusalem (862-78) was also able to report that his Church had been given permission to build its churches,27 however there is no indication that Byzantium had played any role in this, continuing the trend of indifference towards the city and using it only to further its own ecclesiastical policies. The need for Jerusalem’s approval was mandatory, as representatives of all the patriarchs and the pope needed to be present in a church Council, however Byzantium showed its indifference even in this respect. For example, when Photios was installed as patriarch for the first time the legates who appeared in the council which appointed him were not the actual representatives of 24

Niketas of Paphlagonia, ̅ϟΓΖȱΘΓІȱπΑȱΥ·ϟΓ΍ΖȱΔ΅ΘΕϱΖȱψΐЗΑȱ͒·Α΅ΘϟΓΙǰȱΥΕΛ΍ΉΔ΍ΗΎϱΔΓΙȱ ̍ΝΑΗΘ΅ΑΘ΍ΑΓΙΔϱΏΉΝΖǰ Patrologia Graeca 105:545. 25 Ibid. 26 Sacrorum Conciliorum nova et amplissima collectio, ed. Johannes Domenicus Mansi, vol. 16 (Paris: Hubert Welter, 1903-27), 313. 27 Ibid., 313. Griffith writes that it was a report on the good fortune of Jerusalem’s Christians. See Griffith, “What has Constantinople to do with Jerusalem?,” 183.

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the patriarchs, but men literally picked up from the street, ΔΓΑ΋ΕΓϾΖȱ Θ΍Α΅Ζȱ ΩΑΈΕ΅Ζȱ ΦΔϲȱ ΘЗΑȱ ΏΉΝΚϱΕΝΑȱ Φ·Ι΍ЗΑǯ28 This shows that the actual worth of Jerusalem’s opinion was minimal. While its sanction was needed, if it was not forthcoming, its legates were simply brushed aside and replaced by people who would agree in their name. Patriarch Ignatios did not last for very long on the throne of Constantinople, as he died in 877 and Photios was installed once again. A representative of the patriarch of Jerusalem, Elias III (878-907) (not to be confused with the previous legate also bearing his name), played a large role in the Synod called by Photios to ratify his accession. Another letter by Theodosios, still the patriarch of Jerusalem, painted a much different picture than the one of guarded optimism sent ten years before. He beseeches Photios to intervene with the emperor, whom he still recognises as his sovereign, and send help to Jerusalem and the Holy Sepulchre.29 Theodosios goes as far as to submit his Patriarchate to Constantinople if the emperor delivered it from the dire situation it had found itself in. Another letter by the patriarch of Jerusalem was addressed to Basil I. It asks the emperor to pity and resurrect the Holy City and hopes that Byzantium would defeat its enemies and deliver the Christians worldwide.30 In that respect, the second letter has much in common with the letter of the three patriarchs, showing some continuity. The fact remains though, that Basil sent no help to Jerusalem, showing that the empire was still quite indifferent to its plight, only seeing the Holy City’s utility in providing ecclesiastical sanction, something that it readily did. While the emperors might have been ignoring Jerusalem’s plight, the same cannot be said of the clergy; Photios apparently took some action in response to Theodosios’s letter, as we can see from yet more correspondence sent to Constantinople by the patriarch of Jerusalem. He thanks Photios for his aid, writes that all they have left is God and hope, and asks again for the emperor’s intervention, but this time for a more modest affair: the release of some Saracen prisoners, which would alleviate some of the suffering of Jerusalem’s Christians.31 Again, it is unclear whether Basil acted on the appeals of the patriarch or ignored them once again. Continued lack of concern with the fate of Jerusalem, prompted its patriarch to seek help elsewhere. Indeed, letters of appeal and emissaries from the patriarch seeking help in the west are just about all one reliably hears of the church of Jerusalem in the historical sources from

28

Ibid., 401. Ibid., vol. 17, 441-3. 30 Ibid., 460-4. 31 Ibid., 477-81. 29

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This trend carried on further into the ninth century than just its opening decades. In the life of Alfred the Great (871-99), king of the Anglo-Saxon kingdom of Wessex, we are told of letters, whose contents are unknown, “sent with gifts, from the Patriarch of Jerusalem El.”33 Even though the name is incomprehensible, it could only be Patriarch Elias, who had asked for help from Byzantium and received very little. A hint on the content of the letter might be given from a contemporary mission of Western monks to Charles the Fat (881-7), requesting help “for the rebuilding of churches in Jerusalem.”34 We also know of another visit in the beginning of the tenth century, when a mission from Jerusalem went to the West requesting help in obtaining the ransom of a bishop and other Christians.35 All this diplomatic activity between Jerusalem and Western powers suggests one thing: that Byzantium was either incapable or unwilling to give help and Jerusalem had to look for it elsewhere. The only place it could turn to was Western Christendom. What were the reasons for this indifference though? With the defeat of iconoclasm in the middle of the ninth century, there was no animosity between the empire and Jerusalem. Its patriarch had sent numerous letters begging for help, yet they went mostly unanswered. The inability of the Byzantines to offer help, at least on a tangible basis, can be attributed to the increasing threat that the Bulgarians posed, but also to the diversification of Arab attacks; from the end of the ninth century they used their fleets to attack Byzantine targets in Europe such as Syracuse, Cyprus, Thessalonica, and Demetrias. There is no evidence that financial help was not provided, as appeals to the west for funds are not mutually exclusive with that type of help sent from Byzantium, as it had before, although clearly it was not enough. The fact that Jerusalem was willing to accept any ecclesiastical decisions made in Constantinople after the iconoclastic movement ended, even quite unorthodox ones, can only point to the hope of some sort of reward. For example, when Leo VI (886-912) wanted to marry for the fourth time, being widowed three times before, the Patriarch of Constantinople Nikolaos Mystikos (901-7) refused to give him permission, as a fourth marriage was 32

Griffith, “What has Constantinople to do with Jerusalem?,” 183. Asser, Life of King Alfred, ed. William Stevenson (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1959), 76. 34 Jonathan Harris, “Wars and Rumours of Wars: England and the Byzantine World in the Eighth and Ninth Centuries,” Mediterranean Historical Review 14 (1999): 38. Lucas d’ Achèry, Spicilegium sive Collectio Veterum aliquot Scriptorum qui in Galiae Bibliothecis Delituerant (Paris: Apud Montalant, 1723), 363-4. 35 Regesta Pontificum Romanorum, eds Philipp Jaffé and Wilhelm Wattenbach, vol. 1 (Leipzig: Veit and Co., 1885-8), 444; Vetera Analecta, ed. Jean Mabillon (Paris: Apud Montalant, 1723), 428; Harris, “Wars,” 38. 33

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disallowed by the Orthodox Church. For this he was replaced by Euthymios (90712), so Leo could marry his mistress Zoe Carbonopsina. From the vita of Euthymios, in the passage where Leo was attempting to persuade Euthymios to take the patriarchal throne, we see that serious diplomatic activity was undertaken towards the Eastern patriarchs so as to legitimise Euthymios’s accession and Leo’s fourth marriage. In a conversation between the emperor and Nikolaos before his dismissal, the former states that he “sent ambassadors and written to the patriarchs [and he] learnt that they had been moved to pity and compassion and understanding, and now they are both on their way, with representatives with writs of concession for [his] affairs.”36 Again, Jerusalem was needed to sanction an emperor’s ecclesiastical meddling. In the reigns of Constantine VII and Romanos I (920-44) we see a qualitative and quantitative increase in the sources mentioning or alluding to policy employed towards Jerusalem, with the city becoming a clearer target for the empire instead of just a tool to legitimise various decisions of the emperors as in the ninth century, or a theoretical objective, especially since the imperial border successively got closer to the city. The first thing that was changed by Constantine VII was the up to then accepted account of the fall of Jerusalem to the Caliph Omar (634-44). While the emperor based his account on Theophanes and most of the earlier Byzantine sources agree on the course of the siege and surrender of the city by the Patriarch Sophronios (634-8), Constantine’s account brings in another feature of the fall: that the city was taken through trickery.37 This is an obvious attempt to belittle the achievement of Omar and to show the prowess of Byzantine arms. As Constantine wrote, the city was captured by artifice, ΈϱΏУ in order to save the churches inside, and implied that if there was a battle for Jerusalem then history might be different. This attitude, combined with the fact that one of the titles given to the emperor by appointed applauders in Constantinople during his official visits was “the destroyer of Hagar,”38 shows that a martial solution to the occupation of Jerusalem by the Arabs was starting to take form in the minds of the Byzantine emperors, even though not explicitly stated yet, something that would happen in the final years of Constantine’s reign. A fragment of text of praise towards Constantine VII recounts the various punishments he inflicted on the “barbarians” in the name of God.39 These rather unpleasant actions (including 36 Vita Euthymii Patriarchae CP, trans. Patricia Karlin-Hayter (Brussels: Éditions de Byzantion, 1970), 78-9. 37 Constantine Porphyrogennitos, De Administrando Imperio, ed. Gyula Moravcsik, trans. Romily Jenkins, vol. 1 (Budapest: Pázmány Péter Tudományegyetemi Görög Filológiai Intézet, 1949-62), 82. 38 Ibid., 51. 39 ̝ΑΣΏİțIJĮ ͒ΉΕΓΗΓΏΙΐ΍Θ΍ΎϛΖȱ̕Θ΅ΛΙΓΏΓ·ϟ΅Ζ, ed. Athanasios Papadopoulos-Kerameus, vol.1 (St. Petersburg: Kirschbaum, 1891-8), 114-15.

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impalements) were carried out under the auspices of God by the emperor. The fragment itself originated in Jerusalem, not from within the empire, showing that the Christians of the city were still waiting for the emperor to liberate them, but this time the emperor was willing to listen and act. A letter by the Venetian Doge Peter II (932-9) to the German emperor Henry I (919-36), dating from 934, deals extensively with the situation in Jerusalem at the time. It draws a grim picture of the condition of the Christians in the city. He writes that with the approval of the Saracens, the Jews took the Church of the Holy Sepulchre from the Christians and turned it into a synagogue.40 Attacks on the Jews notwithstanding, it also mentions that the patriarch of Jerusalem sent an envoy to Constantinople and the Byzantine emperor, informing him of what was happening in the city41 and presumably asking for help yet again. All this became known in Venice during a diplomatic exchange with Byzantium in the year 93442 and was then transmitted to Germany. The letter makes it very clear that the patriarch of Jerusalem was still in direct contact with the Byzantine emperor concerning the problems of the city and that the latter cared enough about them to circulate their hardships to a wider audience. This visit by the patriarchal envoy also shows that Jerusalem was looking at Byzantium for help with their troubles and that now the empire was presumably ready to act, as there is no mention of an embassy asking for help in the West. Byzantine successes against the Arabs started bringing repercussions to the Christians under Muslim control, the year 934 being the one when Samosata was razed by John Kourkouas. These would go on to become worse as the tenth century progressed, especially in Jerusalem, showing that the empire was indeed taking active interest in the matters concerning the city, making it the onus of Arab reprisals. A very interesting and important source dealing with Jerusalem is an account of the Easter feast and the miracle of the Holy Light in Jerusalem, sent to Constantine VII in 947 by a priest named Niketas Basilikos.43 He went on a pilgrimage to Jerusalem so he could visit the holy city. This journey was financed by the emperor who sent him to the patriarch there with a gift of gold,44 meaning that this letter was the report of Niketas to Constantine after his return. It is also reported that despite damages done by the Arabs, morale in the city remained 40 Gesta Berengarii Imperatoris, ed. Ernst Dümmler (Halle: Verlag der Buchhandlung des Waisenhauses, 1871), 157. 41 Ibid., 158. 42 Heinrich Kretschmayr, Geschichte von Venedig, vol. 1 (Gotha: F.A. Perthes, 1905-34), 107. 43 “̳Δ΍ΗΘΓΏχȱ ΔΕϲΖȱ ΘϲΑȱ ΅ЁΘΓΎΕΣΘΓΕ΅ȱ ̍ΝΑΗΘ΅ΑΘϧΑΓΑȱ ΊЬȱ ΘϲΑȱ ̓ΓΕΚΙΕΓ·νΑΑ΋ΘΓΑȱ ΔΉΕϠȱ ΘΓІȱ ̞·ϟΓΙȱ ̘ΝΘϱΖǰ” ed. Athanasios Papadopoulos-Kerameus, ɉɪɚɜɨɫɥɚɜɧɨɟ ɉɚɥɟɫɬɢɧɫɤɨɟ Ɉɛɳɟɫɬɜɨ [Orthodox Palestinian Society] 13 (1894). 44 Ibid., 1.

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high.45 A very biased stance against the Arabs is taken throughout, with adjectives like godless46 and sacrilegious47 used to describe them. When the Patriarch Christodoulos (937-50) attempted to enter the Holy Sepulchre, a newly arrived emir from Baghdad stopped him with the following command: ̒ЁΎȱ σΒΉΗΘ΍ȱ ΗΓ΍ǰȱ Иȱ ΦΕΛ΍ΉΔϟΗΎΓΔΉȱ ΘχΑȱ οΓΕΘχΑȱ ΑІΑȱ ΘΉΏνΗ΅΍аȱ ΘΓϾΘΓΙȱ ·ΤΕȱ ΛΣΕ΍ΑȱπΑΘ΅ΙΌϠȱΦΚϧ·ΐ΅΍аȱΈ΍Τȱ·ΤΕȱΐ΅·΍ΎϛΖȱΎ΅ΎΓΘΉΛΑϟ΅ΖȱΘϲȱΌΕΙΏΏΓϾΐΉΑΓΑȱ Ό΅Іΐ΅ȱ ΔΓ΍ЗΑȱ ΘχΑȱ ̕ΙΕϟ΅Αȱ ΔκΗ΅Αȱ ΘϛΖȱ ΘЗΑȱ ̙Ε΍ΗΘ΍΅ΑЗΑȱ πΔΏφΕΝΗ΅Ζȱ ΌΕ΋ΗΎΉϟ΅Ζȱ Ύ΅Ϡȱ ΐ΍ΎΕΓІȱ ΈΉϧΑȱ ͦΝΐ΅Αϟ΅Αȱ ΦΔΉΘΉΏνΗ΅Ζǯȱ ΘΤȱ ψΐЗΑȱ σΌ΋ȱ ΦΑ΅ΘΕνΔΝΑǯ48

The translation reads as follows: Archbishop, you will not complete this ritual; that is the reason why I have come here. Through this evil magic, this fabled miracle has made Syria fill up with Christians and turned it into a small Rhomania [Byzantine Empire], toppling our values.

The Patriarch was then carried away but was ransomed for seven thousand gold coins and prepared to attend to the miracle. An armed crowd of Muslims was sent in to the Holy Sepulchre, but then the miracle took place, lighting an empty vessel and leaving them stunned,49 but strangely not converted, as one might imagine from an anti-Islamic polemical text. Niketas finishes the letter with a prayer that Constantine VII would defeat the Ishmaelites and cast down their religion and that God would make him the head of all nations.50 Finally, a comparison is made between Constantine VII and Constantine the Great (306-337) and how God gave victory to the latter through the cross and would help the former conquer the Arabs.51 This comparison is very important, as it was Constantine the Great who transformed Jerusalem into a Christian city after it had been made into the Roman colony of Aelia Capitolina. The context of this comparison is pretty clear: Constantine VII would be the one to deliver the city, as his predecessor had done. This letter allows us to make a number of observations regarding policy towards Jerusalem in the mid-tenth century, shortly before Nikephoros Phokas (963-9) and John Tzimiskes began their campaigns against the Hamdanids and 45

Ibid. Ibid., 4. 47 Ibid., 1. 48 Ibid., 2. 49 Ibid., 4-5. 50 Ibid., 6. 51 Ibid. 46

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Fatimids in Syria. First of all, it was the emperor who financed the journey of Niketas to Jerusalem, sending him to the Patriarch Christodoulos with a gift of gold, showing active involvement in the city. This gave a political significance to the pilgrimage. It might have been undertaken by a desire to witness the miracle of the Holy Light during Easter,52 but the fact remains that the emperor sent Niketas there with a gift for the patriarch. He also provided assistance for the pilgrimage itself, making Niketas his representative, as it is explicitly stated that he was sent to the Patriarch by Constantine. Also, the majority of the letter involves antiMuslim polemic and praising of the emperor with wishes that he will overcome the Arabs and recover Jerusalem. The latter part is quite similar in style to the letter of the three patriarchs; it is not a typical account of pilgrimage. So what was the purpose of this letter? It was probably more than a mere report on the journey and a discussion of the Holy Light. The morale of the Christians in the city is stated and the response of the Arab authorities to those Christians: through their religion they had increased their numbers, displacing Islam, and turning Syria, including Jerusalem, into a miniature of the Byzantine Empire. The fact that the number of Christians had increased during the tenth century (with their morale correspondingly increased as well) is supported by an Arab source, demonstrating that the letter was not fictitious and mere boasting but an accurate report of the situation. Muqaddasi, the Arab geographer and local of Jerusalem wrote during the late tenth century that “Christians are numerous. Everywhere the Christians and the Jews have the upper hand.”53 The fact that he hailed from Jerusalem also means that he had a very precise knowledge of the situation in the city. The claims that Syria and Jerusalem were becoming a little ͦΝΐ΅Αϟ΅ȱ can also point to increased cooperation between the empire and the Patriarchate of the city, a fact that will have important connotations later on, in the year 966. The prevailing over the obstacles put forward by the Muslims and the final triumph of Christianity through the miracle of the Holy Light can also be an allusion to a future deliverance of the city. The matter of the Holy Light will also have significane later on in the history of Jerusalem and the destruction of the Holy Sepulchre by al-Hakim, for the Muslims thought that its lighting involved trickery or magic (as the emir from Baghdad in Niketas’s letter said). Mas’udi in 943 wrote that the Easter feast drew large numbers of Muslims to it and that the flame was created through a secret trick, not a miracle.54 This passage and the actions of the emir show that the Arabs started to develop their own polemical literature against the Christians of Jerusalem, supplementing 52

Ibid., 1. “Description of Syria and Palestine,” trans. Guy Le Strange, in Palestine Pilgrims’ Text Society, vol. 3 (London: Palestine Pilgrims’ Text Society Publications, 1897), 37. 54 Mas’udi, Muruj adh-Dhahab, eds and transs Charles Barbier de Maynard and Abel Pavet de Courteille, vol. 3 (Paris: Société asiatique, 1861-77), 403. 53

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the already existing literature against Byzantium and Christianity in general which started appearing in the ninth century.55 This hostile view of Jerusalem’s Christians can be attributed to the fact that the city was becoming a field of contention between Byzantium and the Muslims, raising the latter’s fears that the city might be lost to them, thus increasing the animosity felt towards the Christians, especially with the allegations that they were cooperating with the enemy. Part of this polemical literature was the changing of the name of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre; in Arabic, the church is known as the Kanisah al-Kayamah, the Church of the Resurrection (or the Holy Sepulchre). Arab sources of the later tenth and the eleventh century paraphrase that into Kanisah al-Kamamah meaning Church of the Dunghill, suggesting a filthy place and the desire to ridicule it.56 With imperial borders in Mesopotamia secured and Cilicia recaptured by Romanos II Porphyrogennitos (959-63) and Nikephoros Phokas, the way into Syria lay open for Byzantine forces, bringing Jerusalem even close to the imperial frontier. Nikephoros gave this struggle a religious overtone,57 although it is debatable whether it can be classified as a holy war against the Muslims. The Muslims also used religion in their war against Byzantium in the middle of the tenth century, partly by continuing the trend of punishing Christians within the territory as a response to imperial advances and partly by urging the Muslims to fight on against the infidels. This latter example comes from a sermon in response to the capture of Tarsus by Nikephoros Phokas in 965. Ibn Nubata asked the Muslims to resist the Byzantine advance by claiming that when Nikephoros entered Tarsus he

55

Ahmed Shboul, “Arab Attitudes towards Byzantium: Official, Learned, Popular,” in ̍΅Ό΋·φΘΕ΍΅ǯ Essays Presented to Joan Hussey for her 80th Birthday, ed. Julian Chrysostomides (Camberley: Porphyrogenitus, 1988), 124. 56 Bibliotheca Geographorum Arabicorum, ed. Michael Jan de Goeje, vol. 3 (Leiden: Brill, 1870-94), 159; Mas’udi, Muruj adh-Dhahab, vol. 1, 111; Chrestomathie arabe, ou extraits de divers divers écrivains arabes, tant en prose qu’en vers, à l’usage des élèves de l’École spéciale des langnes orientales vivantes, ed. and trans. Silvestre de Sacy, vol. 1 (Paris: Imprimerie royale, 1826-7), 60; Ibn al-Athir, Al-Kamil fi al-tarikh, ed. Carl Tornberg, vol. 9 (Leiden: Brill, 1867-76), 147. Ibn al-Athir makes the distinction that the Christians know the Holy Sepulchre as the kayamah. 57 Athena Kolia-Dermitzaki, ͟ȱ ΆΙΊ΅ΑΘ΍ΑϱΖȱ ȃϡΉΕϱΖȱ ΔϱΏΉΐΓΖȄ (Athens: Historical Publications St. D. Basilopoulos, 1991), 260-9; George T. Dennis, “Defenders of the Christian People: Holy War in Byzantium,” in The Crusades from the Perspective of Byzantium and the Muslim World, eds Angeliki Laiou and Roy Parviz Mottahedeh, (Washington D.C.: Dumbarton Oaks, 2001); Tia Kolbaba, “Fighting for Christianity Holy War in Byzantium,” Byzantion 68 (1998).

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Konstantinos Ikonomopoulos climbed its pulpit and asked those around him: “Where am I?” They said: “In the pulpit of Tarsus.” He answered: “No, I am [already] in the pulpit of Bayt al-Maqdis (Jerusalem). This city was preventing me from that one.”58

This quote clearly shows that the final objective of Nikephoros Phokas was Jerusalem and the Muslims knew of this, using it to further their own propaganda for the defence of the city. This is not the only piece of evidence concerning Nikephoros’s view towards Jerusalem. It is quite clear from the evidence at our disposal that he wanted to take the city. An Arabic poem attributed to Phokas also mentions his wish to take the city.59 The emperor boasts about his conquests up to 966 and in the second he warns the Caliph al-Muti (946-74) that he will deliver Jerusalem, take Mecca, and destroy Islam, spreading Christianity throughout the world.60 It is unknown whether this letter is real and represents correspondence between Byzantium and the Abbasid caliphate (at a time before the Fatimids took control of Jerusalem) or it is a fabrication61 intended for internal consumption in the Muslim world. The fate of the Patriarch of Jerusalem John VII (964-6) and the burning of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre during the Pentecost of the year 966 should also be considered as evidence of Byzantine cooperation with the Christians of Jerusalem and also as the fact that the city had become a tangible military objective by that time, as seen in Bar Hebraeus.62 John was burned alive because there was a suspicion that he had asked Nikephoros Phokas to march against Jerusalem.63 The Holy Sepulchre was burned down by the governor of the city, and according to Yahya, suffered extensive damage with the dome collapsing in on itself after the fire and destroying the interior.64 The destruction of the church and the immolation

58

Nadia Maria El Cheikh, Byzantium Viewed by the Arabs (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2004), 170. 59 Gustav von Grünebaum, “Eine Poetische polemik zwischen Byzanz und Bagdad im X. Jahrhundert,” in Analecta Orientalia 14 (Rome: Pontificum institutum biblicum, 1937). 60 Ibid., 49, 58. 61 Regesten der Kaiserurkunden des oströmischen Reiches von 565-1453, ed. Franz Dölger, vol. 1 (Munich: Oldenbourg, 1924-95), 90. Dölger believed that the letter was not real, as it was incompatible with Phokas’s character. 62 Gregory Abu’l-Faraj, Chronography, trans. Ernest A. Wallis Budge, vol. 1 (London: Oxford University Press, 1932), 172. Gregory wrote that Nikephoros Phokas would have taken Jerusalem in 969 if a pestilence had not hit his army, forcing him to fall back. 63 John Skylitzes, Synopsis Historiarum, ed. Hans Thurn (Berlin, New York: De Gruyter, 1973), 278-9; Chrysanthos Papadopoulos, ͒ΗΘΓΕϟ΅ȱ ΘϛΖȱ ̳ΎΎΏ΋Ηϟ΅Ζȱ ΘЗΑȱ ͒ΉΕΓΗΓΏϾΐΝΑ, (Jerusalem, 1919), 348-9; Kolia-Dermitzaki, ȃϡΉΕϱΖȱΔϱΏΉΐΓΖǰȄ 267-8. 64 Yahya Ibn Said al-Antaki, Annales, eds and transs Ignace Kratchkovsky et al., Patrologia Orientalis, 18 (Paris: Firmin-Didot, 1924-97), 798-802, 806-9. It is of interest to note that

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of the patriarch in 966 show the qualitative and quantitative increase of these persecutions, directly connected to the offensives of Byzantium and the alleged plea for Nikephoros to march on the city, continuing the trend of cooperation and collaboration. The closer the Byzantine armies came to the city, the worse the reprisals against the locals became, underlining the importance of the city to the empire, whose policy had now decisively moved from indifference to intervention. The final episode in the empire’s military intervention towards Jerusalem took place in 975. John Tzimiskes, in a letter to King Ashot III of Armenia (952-77), claimed that he and his army, including Armenian troops, went to Mount Tabor and climbed up to the place where Christ our God was transfigured. While we remained in the place, people came to us from Ramla and Jerusalem to beseech our imperial majesty, looking for compassion from us. They asked that a commander be appointed over them and became tributary to us, swearing to serve us. We were also intent on delivering the holy sepulcher of Christ our God from the bondage of the Muslims.65

If the letter is taken at face value then we have a very clear intent and execution of an impreial campaign to capture Jerusalem and liberate the Holy Sepulchre. There are quite a few problems, however, with Tzimiskes’s account. The greatest is that there is no mention of him capturing Jerusalem in any other contemporary source, Greek, Arabic, or Eastern, apart from the letter in Matthew of Edessa. Arabic sources mention his campaign,66 but never as anything threatening to the Fatimid caliphate and always within the context of the civil war fought between the Muslims at the time. Similarly, Greek sources are silent. So why did Tzimiskes claim that he captured Jerusalem? One obvious answer is that he did so for propaganda purposes directed towards the Armenians. He had been given ten thousand of their troops and he had to give account of their good use, ideally for something that all Christians at war with the Muslims could aspire to: the liberation of Jerusalem. Another reason is intent. Much like Nikephoros Phokas, John Tzimiskes had the desire to capture Jerusalem, but he died early in 976 before he could campaign again and possibly take it, as it is pretty certain that it was his main objective. Yahya does not mention the murder of the patriarch as a result of his collaborating with the Byzantines but rather due to his unwillingness to submit to a new tax, in ibid., 799-801. 65 Matthew of Edessa, The Chronicle of Matthew of Edessa, Armenia and the Crusades Tenth to Twelfth Centuries, trans. Ara Edmond Dostourian (Lanham: University Press of America, 1993), 30. 66 Paul E. Walker, “The ‘Crusade’ of John Tzimisces in the Light of New Arabic Evidence,” Byzantion 47 (1977). Walker believes that the intention of Tzimiskes for 975 was not to capture Jerusalem, but rather to set up a defensive boundary against the Fatimids.

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The end of the tenth century shows a very changed situation in the Byzantine policy towards Jerusalem. The emperors were no longer content to use the city to legitimise aspects of their rule or think of it as a theoretical objective. Beginning with the reign of Constantine VII, the stance of the emperors became more aggressive and they started actively seeking direct, military control over the city, leaving us with concrete evidence of their wish to do so. The Arab persecution of the citizens of Jerusalem also increased in magnitude to match the threat the city was facing, underlining its importance to the Byzantine Empire and the cooperation its citizens and Church leaders had with it. The ostensible holy war that Nikephoros Phokas launched and John Tzimiskes continued, with Constantine VII being its spiritual father, only strengthen the notion that Jerusalem was a target for this war, being a holy city for the Christians. The study of the years 813 to 975 shows a clear evolution of imperial policy towards Jerusalem. In the ninth century the empire was indifferent towards the city, whose only utility was to legitimise aspects of the emperors’ rule, or sanction their ecclesiastical policy. This indifference was also shown by the fact that the Patriarchs of Jerusalem undertook a number of embassies to the West to seek help that was not forthcoming from Byzantium. All of this gradually changed, however, and by the middle of the tenth century the empire was pursuing a policy of active intervention in the affairs of the city. There was cooperation with its Christian inhabitants and imperial forces moved ever closer, even allegedly coming close to capturing it. The year 975 marked the most controversial part of this intervention, Tzimiskes’s claims that he actually captured the city. From then on, there would be no more attempts to take the city through war. Imperial involvement in the eleventh century would continue on the path of intervention, but with the cooperation of the Fatimids, marking a less belligerent but ultimately more successful involvement in the city’s affairs.

Bibliography Primary Sources ȱ ̝ΑΣΏΉΎΘ΅ȱ ͒ΉΕΓΗΓΏΙΐ΍Θ΍ΎϛΖȱ ̕Θ΅ΛΙΓΏΓ·ϟ΅Ζ, 5 vols. Edited by Athanasios Papadopoulos-Kerameus. St. Petersburg: Kirschbaum, 1891-8. Asser. Life of King Alfred. Edited by William Stevenson. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1959. Bibliotheca Geographorum Arabicorum, 8 vols. Edited Michael Jan de Goeje. Leiden: Brill, 1870-94.

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Chrestomathie arabe, ou extraits de divers divers écrivains arabes, tant en prose qu’en vers, à l’usage des élèves de l’École spéciale des langnes orientales vivantes, 3 vols. Edited by Silvestre de Sacy. Paris: Imprimerie royale, 1826-7. Constantine Porphyrogennitos. De Administrando Imperio, 2 vols. Edited by Gyula Moravcsik, and translated by Romily Jenkins. Budapest: Pázmány Péter Tudományegyetemi Görög Filológiai Intézet, 1949-62. Constantine Porphyrogennitos. De Cerimoniis Aulae Byzantinae, 2 vols. Edited by Johann Jacob Reiske. Bonn: Weber, 1829-30. “Description of Syria and Palestine.” Translation Guy Le Strange. In Palestine Pilgrims’ Text Society. London: Palestine Pilgrims’ Text Society Publications, 1897 “̳Δ΍ΗΘΓΏχȱ ΔΕϲΖȱ ΘϲΑȱ ΅ЁΘΓΎΕΣΘΓΕ΅ȱ ̍ΝΑΗΘ΅ΑΘϧΑΓΑȱ ΊЬȱ ΘϲΑȱ ̓ΓΕΚΙΕΓ·νΑΑ΋ΘΓΑȱ ΔΉΕϠȱ ΘΓІȱ ̞·ϟΓΙȱ ̘ΝΘϱΖ.” Edited by Athanasios Papadopoulos-Kerameus. ɉɪɚɜɨɫɥɚɜɧɨɟ ɉɚɥɟɫɬɢɧɫɤɨɟ Ɉɛɳɟɫɬɜɨ [Orthodox Palestinian Society] 13 (1894): 1-6. Gesta Berengarii Imperatoris. Edited by Ernst Dümmler. Halle: Verlag der Buchhandlung des Waisenhauses, 1871. George the Monk Continuatus. ̅ϟΓ΍ȱ ΘЗΑȱ ΑνΝΑȱΆ΅Η΍ΏνΝΑ. Edited by Emmanuel Bekker. Bonn: Weber, 1838. Gregory Abu’l-Faraj, Chronography, 2 vols. Translated by Ernest A. Wallis Budge. London: Oxford University Press, 1932. Ibn al-Athir. Al-Kamil fi al-tarikh, 14 vols. Edited by Carl Tornberg. Leiden: Brill, 1867-76. John Skylitzes. Synopsis Historiarum. Edited by Hans Thurn. Berlin, New York: De Gruyter, 1973. Joseph Genesios. Regum Libri Quattuor. Edited by Anni Lesmüller-Werner and Hans Thurn. Berlin, New York: de Gruyter, 1978. Mas’udi. Muruj adh-Dhahab, 9 vols. Edited and translated by Charles Barbier de Maynard and Abel Pavet de Courteille. Paris: Société asiatique, 1861-77. Matthew of Edessa. The Chronicle of Matthew of Edessa, Armenia and the Crusades Tenth to Twelfth Centuries. Translated by Ara Edmond Dostourian. Lanham: University Press of America, 1993. Niketas of Paphlagonia. ̅ϟΓΖȱ ΘΓІȱ πΑȱ Υ·ϟΓ΍Ζȱ Δ΅ΘΕϱΖȱ ψΐЗΑȱ ͒·Α΅ΘϟΓΙǰȱ ΥΕΛ΍ΉΔ΍ΗΎϱΔΓΙȱ̍ΝΑΗΘ΅ΑΘ΍ΑΓΙΔϱΏΉΝΖ. Patrologia Graeca 105:487-574. Regesta Pontificum Romanorum, 2 vols. Edited by Jaffé Philipp and Wilhelm Wattenbach. Leipzig: Veit and Co., 1885-8. Regesten der Kaiserurkunden des oströmischen Reiches von 565-1453, 3 vols. Edited by Franz Dölger. Munich: Oldenbourg, 1924-95. Sacrorum Conciliorum nova et amplissima collectio, 59 vols. Edited by Johannes Domenicus Mansi. Paris: Hubert Welter, 1903-27.

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The Letter of the Three Patriarchs to Emperor Theophilos and Related Texts. Edited by Joseph Munitiz et al. Camberley: Porphyrogenitus, 1997. The Life of Michael the Synkellos. Edited and translated by Mary Cunningham. Belfast: Belfast Byzantine Enterprises, 1991. Theophanes the Confessorǯȱ ̙ΕΓΑΓ·Ε΅Κϟ΅, 2 vols. Edited by Carl de Boor. Leipzig: Teubner, 1883-5. Vetera Analecta. Edited by Jean Mabillon. Paris: Apud Montalant, 1723. Vita Euthymii Patriarchae CP. Translated by Patricia Karlin-Hayter. Brussels: Éditions de Byzantion, 1970. Yahya Ibn Said al-Antaki, Annales. Edited and translated by Ignace Kratchkovsky, Françoise Micheau, Gérard Troupeau, and Alexander Vasiliev, 3 vols. Patrologia Orientalis, 18, 23, 47. Paris: Firmin-Didot, 1924-97.

Secondary Literature Bieberstein, Klaus. “Der Gesandtenaustausch zwischen Karl dem Grossen und HƗrnjn ar-Rašid und seine Bedeutung für die Kirchen Jerusalems.” Zeitschrift des Deutschen Palästina-Vereins 109 (1993): 151-73. Borgolte, Michael. Der Gesandtenaustausch der Karolinger mit den Abbasiden und mit den Patriarchen von Jerusalem. Munich: Arbeo-Gesellschaft, 1976. Dennis, George T. “Defenders of the Christian People: Holy War in Byzantium.” In The Crusades from the Perspective of Byzantium and the Muslim World, edited by Angeliki Laiou and Roy Parviz Mottahedeh, 31-9. Washington D.C.: Dumbarton Oaks, 2001. El Cheikh, Nadia Maria. Byzantium Viewed by the Arabs. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2004. Griffith, Stanley. “What has Constantinople to do with Jerusalem? Palestine in the Ninth Century: Byzantine Orthodoxy in the World of Islam.” In Byzantium in the Ninth Century: Dead or Alive?, edited by Leslie Brubaker, 181-94. Aldershot: Ashgate, 1998. Grünebaum, Gustav von. “Eine Poetische polemik zwischen Byzanz und Bagdad im X. Jahrhundert.” In Analecta Orientalia 14, 43-64. Rome: Pontificum institutum biblicum, 1937. Harris, Jonathan. “Wars and Rumours of Wars: England and the Byzantine World in the Eighth and Ninth Centuries.” Mediterranean Historical Review 14 (1999): 29-46. Kennedy, Hugh. “Byzantine-Arab Diplomacy in the Near East from the Islamic Conquests to the Mid-Eleventh Century.” In Byzantine Diplomacy, edited by Jonathan Shepard and Simon Franklin, 133-43. Aldershot: Ashgate, 1992. Kolbaba, Tia. “Fighting for Christianity Holy War in Byzantium.” Byzantion 68 (1998): 195-221.

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Kolia-Dermitzaki, Athena. ͟ȱ ΆΙΊ΅ΑΘ΍ΑϱΖȱ ȃϡΉΕϱΖȱ ΔϱΏΉΐΓΖȄ. Athens: Historical Publications St. D. Basilopoulos, 1991. Kretschmayr, Heinrich. Geschichte von Venedig, 3 vols. Gotha: F.A. Perthes, 1905-34. Mango, Cyril. “The Liquidation of Iconoclasm and the Patriarch Photios,” In Iconoclasm Papers given at the Ninth Spring Symposium of Byzantine Studies. University of Birmingham March 1975, edited by Anthony Bryer and Judith Herrin, 133-40. Birmingham: Centre for Byzantine Studies University of Birmingham, 1977. Oikonomides, Nicolas. Les listes de préséance Byzantines des IXe et Xe siècles, Paris: Éditions du Centre National de la Recherche Scientifique, 1972. Papadopoulos, Chrysanthos. ͒ΗΘΓΕϟ΅ȱ ΘϛΖȱ ̳ΎΎΏ΋Ηϟ΅Ζȱ ΘЗΑȱ ͒ΉΕΓΗΓΏϾΐΝΑ. Jerusalem, 1919. Shboul, Ahmed. “Arab Attitudes towards Byzantium: Official, Learned, Popular.” In ̍΅Ό΋·φΘΕ΍΅ Essays Presented to Joan Hussey for her 80th Birthday, edited by Julian Chrysostomides, 111-28. Camberley: Porphyrogenitus, 1988. Shepard, Jonathan. “Byzantine Diplomacy, A.D. 800-1204: Means and Ends.” In Byzantine Diplomacy, edited by Jonathan Shepard and Simon Franklin, 41-71. Aldershot: Ashgate, 1992. Sode, Claudia. Jerusalem-Konstantinopel-Rom Die Viten des Michael Synkellos und der Brüder Graptoi. Stuttgart: Franz Steiner Verlag, 2001.

IS THE CONTEMPORARY LATIN HISTORIOGRAPHY OF THE FIRST CRUSADE AND ITS AFTERMATH “ANTI-BYZANTINE”? SAVVAS NEOCLEOUS Several scholars have labeled the Western historiography of the First Crusade and its aftermath as “anti-Byzantine” or “anti-Greek”. Cate favours the view that “most of the Western sources [are] written in an atmosphere unfriendly toward the Greeks.”1 McQueen advises to “remember that the Western chroniclers were vehemently anti-Greek.”2 France argues that “most of the Latin writers on the First Crusade were in any case hostile to the Byzantines.”3 Edgington refers to “the consistently anti-Byzantine narratives of the Latin eye-witness accounts.”4 Lock talks of “anti-Byzantine comments ... amongst the First Crusaders.” 5 Angold maintains that “the contemporary Western accounts of the First Crusade ... treated Byzantium as a necessary evil.”6 Runciman suggests that the Gesta Francorum reflects “anti-Greek views;”7 Harris supports the thesis that “the Gesta Francorum

I would like to thank Dr Barbara Crostini for her valuable comments while this article was still in progress. 1 James Lea Cate, “The Crusade of 1101,” in A History of the Crusades, ed. Kenneth M. Setton, 2nd edn, vol. 1 (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1969), 357. 2 W. B. McQueen, “Relations between the Normans and Byzantium, 1071-1112,” Byzantion 56 (1986): 444. 3 John France, “The Departure of Tatikios from the Crusader Army,” Bulletin of the Institute of Historical Research 44 (1971): 137. 4 Susan Edgington, “Albert of Aachen Reappraised,” in From Clermont to Jerusalem: the Crusades and Crusader Societies 1095-1500, ed. Alan V. Murray (Turnhout: Brepols 1998), 64. 5 Peter Lock, The Routledge Companion to the Crusades (London: Routledge, 2006), 363. 6 Michael Angold, The Byzantine Empire, 1025-1204: a Political History, 2nd edn (London: Longman, 1997), 10-11. 7 Steven Runciman, “Byzantium and the Crusades,” in The Meeting of Two Worlds: Cultural Exchange between East and West during the Period of the Crusades, ed. Vladimir P. Goss and Christine Verzár Bornstein (Kalamazoo, MI: Medieval Institute Publications, Western Michigan University, 1986), 22.

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... is characterised by its virulent anti-Byzantine bias;”8 Sweetenham asserts that “Robert [the Monk] constantly vilifies the Byzantines;” 9 and Rowe writes that “the Hierosolymita of Ekkehard still conveys the flavour of Latin hatred for the Greeks in its first burst of strength.”10 Many other examples could be cited. An examination of the twelfth-century Latin historiography of the First Crusade and its aftermath demonstrates that a large number of historiographers let loose streams of abuse at the Byzantine Emperor Alexios I (1081-1118), while almost all of them virulently criticise Tatikios,11 the imperial representative at the siege of Antioch. This, however, is not sufficient to justify the designation of the Latin historiography of the First Crusade and its aftermath as “anti-Byzantine” or “anti-Greek”. In this paper, using the historiographical evidence, we aim to examine the Westerners’ view of the Byzantines in general in order to determine whether the Latin historiography of the First Crusade is in actual fact “antiByzantine” or merely “anti-Alexian”.

I. The Evidence The successful outcome of the First Crusade seems to be the key factor for the relatively large number of Western accounts of the expedition. Several of these accounts were written in the immediate aftermath of the crusade, while others were composed later in the twelfth century. Before we embark on our project, an overview of the primary sources under investigation is necessary. The Gesta Francorum and the accounts of Raymond of Aguilers, and Fulcher of Chartres (c. 1058-1128) have been aptly described by Susan Edgington as “the holy trinity of First Crusade Sources.”12 They are the three Latin narrative accounts generally accepted to have been written by eye-witnesses. The author of the Gesta Francorum is anonymous. He was probably a knight or a priest, in the army of Bohemond of Taranto until Antioch, whence he continued on to Jerusalem with the main crusader army. The Anonymous completed the greater part of his text shortly after the conquest of Jerusalem in July 1099. In the twelfth century, the Gesta Francorum enjoyed an extraordinary popularity, and almost every other 8

Jonathan Harris, Byzantium and the Crusades (London: Hambledon and London, 2003), 98. 9 Carol Sweetenham, introduction to History of the First Crusade, by Robert the Monk (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2005), 7. 10 J. G. Rowe, “Paschal II, Bohemund of Antioch and the Byzantine Empire,” Bulletin of John Rylands Library 49 (1966): 170-1. 11 Tatikios was of Saracen, perhaps Turkish origin, according to Anna Komnena. See Anna Komnena, The Alexiad, trans. E. R. A. Sewter (London: Penguin, 1969), 141. 12 Edgington, “Albert of Aachen,” 55.

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contemporary narrative of the First Crusade was directly or indirectly influenced by it.13 The Historia Francorum qui ceperunt Iherusalem was authored by Raymond of Aguilers, a chaplain to Count Raymond IV of Toulouse. The main strength of this work is that its author, due to his position, was privy to the councils of the leaders. The work, composed in the early 1100s, was completed before 1105. Although Raymond of Aguilers used the Gesta Francorum for some details, his account is considered as an independent source. Raymond, like the anonymous author of the Gesta Francorum, finished his narrative with the crusaders’ victory at the battle of Ascalon (1099), a victory that marked the end of the First Crusade.14 The Historia Hierosolymitana was composed by Fulcher of Chartres, who joined the First Crusade initially as chaplain of Stephen of Blois and later, in October 1097, of Baldwin of Boulogne. The first version of Fulcher’s chronicle was written between 1100 and 1106, and a final version in 1127. Unlike the anonymous author of the Gesta Francorum and Raymond of Aguilers, Fulcher continued his narrative after the establishment of the Latin Kingdom of Jerusalem.15 The Gesta Tancredi and the Hierosolomyta are two sources written by persons who were in the Holy Land shortly after the establishment of the Kingdom of Jerusalem. Ralph of Caen (d. after 1130), author of the Gesta Tancredi, joined Bohemond’s entourage as chaplain in 1107. He went to the Levant in 1108 and there he took service with Bohemond’s nephew, Tancred of Hauteville, who in the same year succeeded his uncle as prince of Antioch. Ralph began to compose the Gesta Tancredi after Tancred’s death in December 1112 and completed his work before April 1118. Although the Gesta Tancredi covers the period 1096-1105, the 13

Rosalind Hill, introduction to Gesta Francorum (London: Oxford University Press, 1962), ix-xvi; Susan Edgington, “The First Crusade: Reviewing the Evidence,” in The First Crusade, Origins and Impact, ed. Jonathan Phillips (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1997), 55-6; Lock, The Routledge, 229; John France, “The Use of the Anonymous Gesta Francorum in the Early Twelfth-Century Sources for the First Crusade,” in From Clermont to Jerusalem: the Crusades and Crusader Societies 1095-1500, ed. Alan V. Murray (Turnhout: Brepols 1998), 29, 35-6. 14 John Hugh Hill and Laurita L. Hill, introduction to Historia Francorum Qui Ceperunt Iherusalem, by Raymond of Aguilers (Philadelphia: American Philosophical Society, 1968), 1-8; Susan Edgington, “Raymond of Aguilers,” in The Crusades: An Encyclopedia, ed. Alan V. Murray, vol. 4 (Santa Barbara, CA; Oxford: ABC-CLIO, 2006), 1009; Edgington, “The First Crusade,” 56; Lock, The Routledge, 248; France, “The Use of the Anonymous.” 15 Harold S. Fink, introduction to A History of the Expedition to Jerusalem 1095-1127, by Fulcher of Chartres (Knoxville: University of Tennessee Press, 1960), 3-46; Edgington, “The First Crusade,” 56-7; Lock, The Routledge, 236; France, “The Use of the Anonymous,” 30.

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focus is on the military campaigns of the First Crusade. Ralph’s main interest is in Tancred’s career, and his work, written in prosimetrum, constitutes a panegyric of his lord. Most of Ralph’s information was obtained from Bohemond, Tancred, and their followers. The main strength of this work is that it is considered as an independent source.16 The Hierosolomyta was composed by the Benedictine monk Ekkehard of Aura (c. 1050-1126). Ekkehard participated in the Crusade of 1101, and subsequently became abbot of the monastery of Aura. Between 1103 and 1125 he authored his Chronicon Universale. In 1105-January 1106, he wrote the recension of his history narrating his experiences on the Crusade of 1101. The section of his chronicle concerning the First Crusade and the Crusade of 1101 was eventually issued as a short independent volume called Hierosolomyta.17 The Gesta Dei per Francos, the Historia Hierosolimitana, and the Historia Iherosolimitana constitute the accounts of the three earliest rewriters of the Gesta Francorum in the West, all French Benedictine monks. The Gesta Dei per Francos was written by Guibert of Nogent (1053-1125). The author, elected abbot of Nogent in 1104, composed his account between 1106 and 1109. Although Guibert depended on the Gesta Francorum for his particulars, he composed his own analysis of the events. The Gesta Dei also incorporates information that Guibert obtained from returning crusaders. 18 The Historia Hierosolimitana was authored in 1110 by Baldric of Dol (10461130). Baldric was abbot of Bourgueil for eighteen years before becoming archbishop of Dol in 1107. Although he relied heavily upon the Gesta Francorum, Baldric gave a more literary and dramatic form to his work. The Historia Hierosolimitana offers limited but valuable additional material derived from oral sources.19

16

Bernard S. Bachrach and David Steward Bachrach, introduction to Gesta Tancredi: a History of the Normans on the First Crusade, by Ralph of Caen (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2005), 1-15; Peter Orth, “Radulph of Caen,” in The Crusades: An Encyclopedia, ed. Alan V. Murray, vol. 4 (Santa Barbara, CA; Oxford: ABC-CLIO, 2006), 1001; Edgington, “The First Crusade,” 60. 17 Alec Mulinder, “Ekkehard of Aura,” in The Crusades: An Encyclopedia, ed. Alan V. Murray, vol. 2 (Santa Barbara, CA; Oxford: ABC-CLIO, 2006), 392; Edgington, “The First Crusade,” 60. 18 Robert Levine, introduction to The Deeds of God through the Franks, by Guibert of Nogent (Woodbridge: Boydell Press, 1997), 1-15; K. S. B. Keats-Rohan, “Guibert of Nogent,” in The Crusades: An Encyclopedia, ed. A. V. Murray, vol. 2 (Santa Barbara, CA; Oxford: ABC-CLIO, 2006), 548; Edgington, “The First Crusade,” 59; Lock, The Routledge, 238. 19 K. S. B. Keats-Rohan, “Baldric of Dol,” in The Crusades: An Encyclopedia, ed. Alan V. Murray, vol. 1 (Santa Barbara, CA; Oxford: ABC-CLIO, 2006), 130.

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The Historia Iherosolimitana was composed by Robert, a monk at the abbey of Saint Remi at Rheims, either before 1107 or between 1110 and 1118. For his information Robert depended on the Gesta Francorum, but gave his own interpretation which is guided by his strong theological viewpoint. Moreover, Robert’s account includes some original material which the author possibly obtained from eyewitnesses. The fact that Robert’s narrative of the First Crusade survives today in over 120 manuscripts attests to its popularity. 20 An invaluable account that provides a view of the events of the First Crusade independent of the Gesta Francorum is the Historia Ierosolimitana of Albert, chancellor of the Church of Aachen. Albert’s account not only constitutes the most complete and detailed narrative of the First Crusade but also contains material on the Latin Kingdom of Jerusalem down to 1120. The chronicler compiled his work from oral and written information, obtained from surviving witnesses. Albert’s account, begun sometime between 1100 and 1119, was probably completed by the 1120s and definitely by the 1140s.21 In addition to the above sources, two Western general histories will be examined: the De gestis regum Anglorum and the Historia Ecclesiastica. The De gestis regum Anglorum was composed by William (d. c. 1143), a Benedictine monk at the abbey of Malmesbury in England. Completed in 1126, the work includes interesting material on the First Crusade and its aftermath. Although the author drew on the chronicle of Fulcher of Chartres and the Gesta Francorum, he also provides much independent information probably obtained from returned crusaders.22 The Historia Ecclesiastica is the life work of the Anglo-Norman monk and chronicler Orderic Vitalis (1075-c. 1141). The bulk of this monumental history was composed between 1123 and 1137. Book IX, which in its final form dates from 1135, extends from the Council of Clermont to the battle of Ascalon, while certain chapters of Book X, written in 1135, and Book XI, written between 1135 and 1137, provide interesting evidence concerning the aftermath of the First Crusade. Although a substantial part of the account of the First Crusade is derived 20

Sweetenham, introduction to History, 1-68; Peter Orth, “Robert of Rheims,” in The Crusades: An Encyclopedia, ed. Alan V. Murray, vol. 4 (Santa Barbara, CA; Oxford: : ABC-CLIO, 2006), 1042-3; Edgington, “The First Crusade,” 59-60; Lock, The Routledge, 250. 21 Edgington, “The First Crusade,” 61-73; Edgington, “Albert of Aachen”, 55-67; Lock, The Routledge, 228; France, “The Use of the Anonymous”, 29, 39. 22 Rodney M. Thomson and Michael Winterbottom, introduction to Gesta Regum Anglorum, by William of Malmesbury, vol. 2 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1999), xxxviixxxviii, xlii; Rodney M. Thomson, “William of Malmesbury,” in The Crusades: An Encyclopedia, ed. Alan V. Murray, vol. 4 (Santa Barbara, CA; Oxford: ABC-CLIO, 2006), 1279-80.

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from the Historia Ierosolimitana of Baldric of Dol, Orderic’s work offers much independent and unique material. Much of Orderic’s information derived from oral sources. This information, which the historian received directly from pilgrims and knights returning from the East, is discussed in this essay.23 It should be stressed that all the aforementioned accounts of the First Crusade and its aftermath were written in the first four decades of the twelfth century. Later historians such as William of Tyre (d. 1186) saw and interpreted the events in a very different light.

II. Western Perceptions of the Byzantines a.

Christian Fraternity

One of the primary objectives of the First Crusade was the liberation and protection of the Eastern Christians against the Muslims. In all six versions of Pope Urban II’s preaching of the First Crusade at the Council of Clermont in 1095, the need to aid the fellow Christians in the East is stressed.24 Fulcher was possibly an eyewitness to the council.25 According to his version, the pope urged the Westerners to “hasten to carry aid to your brethren (confratres vestri) dwelling in the East” and warned them that “reproaches will be charged against you by the

23

Marjorie Chibnall, introduction to The Ecclesiastical History, by Orderic Vitalis, vol. 1 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1969-80), 31-2, 46-7; ibid., vol. 5, xii-xix; K. S. B. Keats-Rohan, “Orderic Vitalis,” in The Crusades: An Encyclopedia, ed. Alan V. Murray, vol. 3 (Santa Barbara, CA; Oxford: ABC-CLIO, 2006), 899-900; Lock, The Routledge, 229. 24 Dana Carleton Munro, “The Speech of Pope Urban II at Clermont, 1095,” American Historical Review 11 (1906): 236, and 242; and William M. Daly, “Christian Fraternity, the Crusaders and the Security of Constantinople,” Medieval Studies 22 (1960): 49. Scholars traditionally tend to treat as five versions of Pope Urban II’s preaching; these are found in the accounts of Fulcher of Chartres, Robert the Monk, Baldric of Dol, Guibert of Nogent, and William of Malmesbury. Chibnall drew attention to the version preserved in Orderic Vitalis’s work, Orderic Vitalis, The Ecclesiastical History, ed. and trans. Marjorie Chibnall, vol. 5 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1969-80), 14-17. Chibnall underlines that Orderic was not as dependent on Baldric of Dol as other scholars imply. A close examination and comparison of Baldric’s and Orderic’s texts vindicates Chibnall. This scholar suggests that Orderic “may have heard a report from one of the Norman bishops at the council,” Vitalis, Ecclesiastical History, vol. 5, 14-15, n. 10. 25 H. E. J. Cowdrey, “Pope Urban II’s Preaching of the First Crusade,” History 55 (1970): 177.

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Lord Himself if you have not helped those who are counted like yourselves of the Christian faith.”26 William of Malmesbury “decided to hand down to posterity” Urban’s sermo at the Council of Clermont as he “received it from those who heard it, preserving intact the sense of what was said.”27 According to the version of the Benedictine monk, the pope instructed “that following the Lord’s commands you [the Westerners] may lay down your lives for your brethren (pro fratribus).”28 Urban further proclaimed in front of a crowd of enthusiastic listeners that “you will be extolled by all future ages if you rescue your brethren (fratres uestros) from peril.”29 According to Orderic Vitalis’s version of the papal preaching, which may be based on the report of one of the Norman bishops at the council, Urban recited the sufferings of “our brothers” (fratres nostros)30 to the Westerners and “caused many of his hearers to weep with him out of great affection and pious compassion for their brethren (ex affectu nimio piaque fratrum compassione).”31 As in the case of Fulcher, Baldric of Dol may have been an eyewitness to the council.32 His version of Urban’s preaching is probably the most dramatic among the six. Baldric relates that Urban described to the Westerners how, with great hurt and dire sufferings our Christian brothers (Christiani, fratres nostri), members in Christ, are scourged, oppressed, and injured in Jerusalem, in Antioch, and the other cities of the East.33

According to the same author, the pope described the Eastern Christians to the Western as “your own blood-brothers (germani fratres vestri), your companions (contubernales vestri), your associates (couterini vestri)”, explaining that they were both “sons (filii) of the same Christ and the same Church (Ecclesia)” and stating dramatically that 26

Fulcher of Chartres, Historia Hierosolymitana, RHC Oc., 3 (Paris: Imprimerie Impériale, 1866), 323; Fulcher of Chartres, A History of the Expedition to Jerusalem 1095-1127, ed. Harold S. Fink, and trans. Frances Rita Ryan (Knoxville: University of Tennessee Press, 1960), 65-6. 27 William of Malmesbury, Gesta Regum Anglorum, ed. and trans. Rodney M. Thomson and Michael Winterbottom, vol. 1(Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1998-9), 598-9. 28 Ibid., 600-1. 29 Ibid., 602-3. 30 Vitalis, Ecclesiastical History, vol. 5, 16-17. 31 Ibid., 14-15. 32 Cowdrey, “Pope Urban II’s,” 177. 33 Baldric of Dol, Historia Jerosolimitana, RHC Oc., 4 (Paris: Imprimerie Impériale, 1868), 12; translated in: August Charles Krey, ed. and trans., The First Crusade. Accounts of EyeWitnesses and Participants (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1921), 33.

34

Savvas Neocleous Christian blood, redeemed by the blood of Christ, has been shed, and Christian flesh, akin to the flesh of Christ, has been subjected to unspeakable degradation and servitude.34

Eventually, as Baldric reports, Urban declared that the war against Muslims “is the only warfare that is righteous, for it is charity to risk your life for your brothers (pro fratribus).”35 Baldric may well have dramatised the papal speech. However, his version achieves great significance when we examine it in the context of the Christian fellowship. The fact that Baldric, a Latin archbishop, deemed it necessary to emphasise the brotherhood of Western and Eastern Christians is of vital importance to our study. Urban’s stressing of Christian brotherhood at the Council of Clermont found an echo in the hearts of the Westerners, especially of the clergy and nobility, as evidenced by the Western historiography of the First Crusade and its aftermath. Guibert of Nogent censures the Westerners of “the People’s Crusade” for their disorderly conduct and pillages at the shores of Bithynia: as the chronicler underlines, those who had taken a vow to fight against the pagans fought with brutality against men of our own faith (contra nostrae fidei homines), destroying churches everywhere, and stealing the possessions of Christians.36

The Byzantines were evidently perceived by the vehemently anti-Alexian Guibert as fellow Christians, people of the same faith as the Westerners.37 34

Baldric of Dol, Historia Jerosolimitana, 12-13; Krey, The First Crusade, 33. Baldric of Dol, Historia Jerosolimitana, 15; Krey, The First Crusade, 35. 36 Guibert de Nogent, Dei gesta per Francos, ed. Robert Burchard Constantijn Huygens, Corpus Christianorum Continuatio Mediaevalis, 127A (Turnhout: Brepols, 1996), 123; Guibert of Nogent, The Deeds of God through the Franks, trans. Robert Levine (Woodbridge: Boydell Press, 1997), 49. I made minor amendments to Levine’s translation. 37 In Book I of his work, Guibert gives an overview of the “Eastern Churches,” beginning by condemning the old Eastern heresies of Arianism, Eunomianism, Eutychianism, and Nestorianism, and proceeding through his contemporary controversies between the Church of Rome and the “Eastern Churches.” During the eleventh and early twelfth centuries the azyme (unleavened bread) issue was the greater source of friction between the Churches of Constantinople and Rome, see Tia M. Kolbaba, “Byzantine Perceptions of Latin Religious “Errors”: Themes and Changes from 850 to 1350,” in The Crusades from the Perspective of Byzantium and the Muslim World, eds Angeliki E. Laiou and Roy Parviz Mottahedeh (Washington, D.C.: Harvard University Press, 2001), 117-43, esp. 121-6. The Western Christians, however, were ready to consent to the Greek usage of leavened bread in the Eucharist. Guibert records that “making the sacrament out of leavened bread is defended with the apparently reasonable argument that using yeast is not harmful when it is done in good faith,” see Guibert of Nogent, Deeds of God, 31. Cf. the letter of Pope Gregory VII 35

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Raymond of Aguilers relates that when the crusaders of Count Raymond of Toulouse reached the Byzantine Empire, we were confident that we were in our land (patria nostra), because we believed that Alexios and his followers were our Christian brothers and confederates (nobis fratres et coadiutores).38

The Provençals, however, were soon to become disillusioned due to the stern surveillance that the emperor’s Petcheneg police imposed upon them. According to the author of the Gesta Francorum, when the Norman expedition crossed from Bari to Epiros in October 1096, Bohemond warned his men “to be courteous and refrain from plundering that land, which belonged to Christians.” 39 Guibert of Nogent portrays the Norman leader as

(1073-85) to the Armenian Katholikos Gregory II of Vkayaser (1066-1105), dated 6 June 1080. As the great reforming pope recorded, “while defending our unleavened bread according to God by incontrovertible argument, neither abuse nor reject leavened bread, following the Apostle when he says that to the pure all things are pure,” see Pope Gregory VII, The Register of Pope Gregory VII, 1073-1085, trans. Herbert Edward John Cowdrey (Oxford: Oxford University Press), 363. The second most important matter of controversy between the Churches of Rome and Constantinople was the Filioque; according to the Greeks, the Holy Spirit proceeds from the Father alone, and according to the Latins, it proceeds from the Father and the Son. Although aware of the existence of an altercatio with the Greeks on the processio of the Holy Spirit, Guibert seems to have mistakenly thought that the Greeks “contend that the Holy Spirit is less than the Father and the Son in accordance with the vestiges of the Arian heresy.” As Guibert proceeds to explain, “arguing that any of the three [i.e. the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit] is less than the other is to argue that he is not God,” see Guibert de Nogent, Dei gesta, 92; Guibert of Nogent, Deeds of God, 31. Guibert’s statements testify to his poor knowledge of: a. the debated issue of the procession of the Holy Spirit, and b. ecclesiastical history. First of all, the Greeks did not argue that the Holy Spirit is less than the Father and the Son. Secondly, the Arians had denied the full Divinity of the Son, not that of the Holy Spirit. It was the Macedonians who had denied the full Divinity of the Spirit while maintaining that of the Son against the Arians. At the Council of Constantinople in 381 Macedonianism was condemned and the full doctrine of the Holy Spirit as consubstantial, coequal, and coeternal with the Father and the Son received authoritative acceptance in the Church, see F. L. Cross, ed., Oxford Dictionary of the Christian Church (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1958), 80-1, 649-50. 38 John France, “A Critical Edition of the Historia Francorum of Raymond of Aguilers” (PhD diss., University of Nottingham, 1967), 9-10; Raymond of Aguilers, Historia Francorum Qui Ceperunt Iherusalem, trans. John Hugh Hill and Laurita L. Hill (Philadelphia: American Philosophical Society, 1968), 18. 39 Gesta Francorum et Aliorum Hierosolimitanorum, trans. Rosalind Hill (London: Oxford University Press, 1962), 8.

36

Savvas Neocleous ordering all his men alike who were about to pass through the territory of Christian peoples (christianas gentes) to behave peacefully and virtuously, and not to depopulate the land of those for whose rights (pro suffragio) they had come.40

Baldric of Dol quotes Bohemond as instructing his men: we are Christi milites: let us restrain rapacious hands from plundering the homes of Christians ... the land on which we are belongs to Christians and therefore it is not lawful to pillage it.41

When his men proposed attacking a Byzantine town, Bohemond did not consent, as the Anonymous explains, pro iustitia terrae,42 a set phrase denoting the inviolability of Christian territory from the crusader troops; on the contrary, the Norman leader had earlier permitted his men to attack and devastate a town of heretics, probably Paulicians.43 While Bohemond’s army was at Serres, the Norman leader ordered that all the beasts, which his men had stolen on their journey, be restored to the Byzantines, pro iustitia terrae44 again. When Raymond of Toulouse suggested a crusader attack on Constantinople in late April 1097, the other crusader leaders, as the Anonymous relates, “told him that it would be improper (iniustum fore) to fight against ... Christians (contra Christianos).”45 Likewise, Raymond of Aguilers recounts that the rest of the princes “deplored such [Count Raymond’s] thoughts, saying that it was the height of folly for Christians to fight Christians.” 46 Baldric of Dol was embarrassed even to mention Raymond’s proposal. The same chronicler, when later referring to the crusaders who were killed during the siege of Nicaea in 1097, asserts that “everybody holds the view that they won the crown of blessed martyrdom, since they offered their lives for the sake of their brethren (pro fratrum compassione).”47 According to Albert of Aachen, during the fighting between Alexios and Godfrey of Bouillon outside Constantinople in the middle of January 1097, the French prince received envoys from Bohemond, who suggested a joint attack on Constantinople. Godfrey declined Bohemond’s proposal, stating that

40

Guibert de Nogent, Dei gesta, 139; Guibert of Nogent, Deeds of God, 58. I made several amendments to Levine’s translation. 41 Baldric of Dol, Historia Jerosolimitana, 22. 42 Gesta Francorum, 10. 43 Ibid., 8. 44 Ibid., 10. 45 Ibid., 13. 46 Raymond of Aguilers, Historia Francorum, 24. 47 Baldric of Dol, Historia Jerosolimitana, 30.

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he had not left his homeland and family for the sake of profit or for the destruction of Christians, but had embarked on the journey to Jerusalem in the name of Christ. 48

Some modern scholars have ignored this passage. 49 It has, however, aroused controversy amongst others. Yewdale rejected Albert’s testimony, contrasting with it the policy of friendship toward the emperor that Bohemond had inaugurated as soon as he arrived in Byzantine territory. 50 Shepard argued that “it is most probable that Bohemond was too well aware of the difficulties which a siege of Constantinople would have posed for the crusaders to have proposed an attack.”51 These arguments are convincing. Moreover, it should be added that, according to Albert, when Bohemond made the proposal to Godfrey in the middle of January, he was still in Apulia. However, at this time Bohemond was, in actual fact, in the Byzantine Empire marching to Constantinople. He had already crossed from Bari to Avlona on 26 October 1096. In contrast, several scholars appear to accept Albert’s word. Edgington maintains that “such a message is very much in character for Bohemond,”52 an inadequate explanation, it is felt. France uses Anna’s account to corroborate Albert’s evidence. The Byzantine princess records that Alexios intercepted communication between Godfrey and Bohemond or vice versa. France understands that the emperor did so, because he had been aware of Bohemond’s proposal to Godfrey, and thus he wanted to cut off any further communication of this sort.53 However, if this were the case, Anna, who is always keen to demonstrate the Westerner’s aspiration to seize Constantinople, would have been at pains to recount Bohemond’s proposal. Furthermore, Bohemond’s later treatment at Alexios’s hands in Constantinople does not support France’s view. Lilie argues that despite the fact that Bohemond’s letter is not corroborated by other accounts, there “is no reason to disbelieve it since Bohemond would hardly

48

Albert of Aachen, Historia Ierosolimitana, History of the Journey to Jerusalem, ed. and trans. Susan B. Edgington (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 2007), 83. 49 McQueen, “Relations,” 427-76; Steven Runciman, A History of the Crusades, vol. 1 (London: Cambridge University Press, 1951), 142-71; and Steven Runciman, “The First Crusade: Constantinople to Antioch,” in A History of the Crusades, ed. Kenneth M. Setton, 2nd edn, vol. 1 (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1969), 284-8. 50 Ralph Bailey Yewdale, Bohemond I, Prince of Antioch (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1924), 42. 51 Jonathan Shepard, “When Greek Meets Greek: Alexius Comnenus and Bohemond in 1097-98,” Byzantine and Modern Greek Studies 12 (1988): 203, n. 55. 52 Edgington, “The First Crusade,” 67. 53 John France, Victory in the East: a Military History of the First Crusade (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1994), 116.

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have made his proposal generally known, even in his own army, in case of failure.”54 None of the aforementioned scholars have taken into consideration Bohemond’s similar proposal, which is related by Orderic Vitalis. According to the historian, the Norman leader urged his companions to besiege Constantinople with determination, offering many convincing reasons why this was the best course to pursue. The Franks, however, said, “we have abandoned our worldly wealth and set out on a pilgrimage by our own choice, in order to throw back the pagans and free the Christians for the love of Christ. The Greeks are Christians too (Greci autem Christiani sunt).”55

The information about Bohemond’s proposal for an assault on Constantinople– information provided both by Albert and Orderic–derived from oral sources. It is interesting that Albert of Aachen fails to mention Raymond of Toulouse’s refusal to take the oath of fealty to Alexios, and the count’s proposal for an attack on Constantinople. The chronicler erroneously recounts that Raymond became “favoured and esteemed by Alexios,” “became the emperor’s man on his honour and solemn oath,”56 and “was closely allied to him.”57 On the contrary, according to Albert, initially Bohemond had even refused to “enter the [Byzantine] court and hear what the emperor had to say” 58 and did so only through the agency of Godfrey. However, during the leaders’ stay in Constantinople, it is Bohemond, and definitely not Raymond, who seems to have been the leader “favoured and esteemed by Alexios,” who willingly took the oath of allegiance to the emperor, and who was closely allied to him.59 By the time the First Crusade ended and the First Crusaders began returning to the West, conditions were radically different. Raymond was on intimate terms with Alexios, while Bohemond had broken faith with the emperor. We could, therefore, presume that some crusaders of the rank and file of the army or some pilgrims, who only knew by hearsay that a leader had proposed an attack on Constantinople assumed that Bohemond was the one who did so. Therefore, upon returning to the West, they may have circulated various stories, according to which Bohemond suggested an assault on the imperial capital. These rumoured stories must have gained credence easily, given the serious deterioration in relations between Alexios and Bohemond following the crusaders’ capture of Antioch–a 54

Ralph-Johannes Lilie, Byzantium and the Crusader States, 1096-1204, trans. J. C. Morris and Jean E. Ridings (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1993), 5. 55 Vitalis, Ecclesiastical History, vol. 5, 46-9. 56 Albert of Aachen, Historia Ierosolimitana, 93. 57 Ibid., 103. 58 Ibid., 89. 59 Shepard, “When Greek Meets Greek,” 203-4.

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deterioration which ultimately led to the Norman’s attack on the Byzantine Empire in 1107. It should also be noted that the Anonymous, when referring to the leaders who opposed Raymond’s suggestion, makes special reference, by name, firstly to Godfrey of Bouillon and secondly to Robert II of Flanders.60 In Albert’s story it is again Godfrey of Bouillon who rejects the proposal for an attack on Constantinople. This cannot be accidental, and supports our view that Bohemond replaced Raymond in the stories that circulated in the West in the aftermath of the First Crusade. Of greatest significance to our study is the fact that, irrespective of either Raymond or Bohemond suggesting an assault on the imperial capital, there appears to be extensive unanimity in the chronicles concerning the reply from the rest of the leaders. The proposal was firmly rejected on the grounds that the Byzantines were Christians: they were regarded as Christian brethren. It should also be mentioned here that as regards Alexios’s supposed fear of a crusader attack on Constantinople, Robert the Monk makes it clear that the crusaders had no intention of attacking the Byzantines, “as they had no desire to fight against Christians.”61 In the late summer of 1099, a Pisan fleet of 120 ships under the command of Daimbert, archbishop of Pisa, arrived off the coast of Antioch. Bohemond immediately made an approach to Daimbert and the Pisan captains and succeeded in gaining naval support for an attack on Byzantine Latakia.62 Albert of Aachen recounts that Bohemond “told them [the Pisans] all sorts of evil and severe slanders against the citizens of Latakia, and that they were criminal opponents of the Christians.”63 The same author has Archbishop Daimbert report Bohemond as propagating that the citizens of Latakia were false Christians (falsi Christiani), and always opposed to the Christian brothers (confratres), and ... they had been in an extreme degree traitors (traditores) of the pilgrims among the Turks and Saracens.64

60

Gesta Francorum, 13. Robert the Monk, History of the First Crusade, trans. Carol Sweetenham (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2005), 99. 62 Lilie, Byzantium, 62-3; Runciman, History, vol. 1, 300-1; Yewdale, Bohemond I, 87-8. 63 Omne malum et grande nefas de ciuibus Laodicie referebat, et hos noxios Christianorum calumniatores. Albert of Aachen, Historia Ierosolimitana, 476-7. I have made some changes in Edgington’s translation. The scholar inaccurately translates this as “told them that the Latakians were entirely bad and really evil, and that they were criminal opponents of the Christians.” 64 Albert of Aachen, Historia Ierosolimitana, 480-1. 61

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The Norman prince’s story, “something quite other than the truth” 65 as Albert says, excited the Pisans’ hatred towards the inhabitants of Latakia. In September 1099 Latakia was besieged by Bohemond and the Pisan fleet. In the meantime, following the battle of Ascalon on 12 August 1099, a considerable part of the crusader army, under Raymond of Toulouse, Robert of Normandy, and Robert of Flanders began their march northwards. At Jabala the leaders discovered that Bohemond had laid siege to Latakia. As Albert relates, they dispatched envoys to the Norman leader asking him “to withdraw from the siege of the city and not to inflict any further injustice on Christians.”66 Additionally, the princes reproached Daimbert for having “unfairly exerted force against Christian citizens, namely those of Latakia.”67 Nevertheless, Bohemond rejected the other leaders’ demand. Once they were informed of this rejection, the princes prepared themselves for battle, while Daimbert, having conceded that “he and his men had done wrong in complete ignorance,”68 withdrew the support of the Pisan fleet. Finding himself isolated, Bohemond finally raised the siege of Latakia. Some modern scholars referring to the incident fail even to mention that, once the crusader leaders learned of the siege of Latakia, they warned Bohemond to avoid any offence against Christians. Lilie simply states that “considering the old enmity between the Count of Toulouse and Bohemond it is not surprising that Raymond tried his best to put an end to the siege.”69 The scholar’s remark eliminates firstly the role that the two Roberts and secondly the part that the leaders’ devotion to the ideal of Christian fraternity had played in the opposition to Bohemond’s plans. It is possible that the three princes, especially Raymond, might have also had ulterior motives in opposing the Norman’s plans over Latakia. However, the leaders’ religious concerns and attachment to the ideal of Christian fellowship–which are actually the only concerns displayed by Albert’s account and cannot therefore be overlooked by the historian–almost certainly played a major role in the princes’ decision to oppose Bohemond. It must not be forgotten that the crusaders essentially perceived their role as that of milites Christi, and other Christians were therefore regarded by them as brothers in Christ.70 Regarding Robert of Flanders in particular, it was not the first time that the powerful count 65

Ibid., 477. Ibid., 479. 67 Ibid., 481. 68 Ibid. 69 Lilie, Byzantium, 63. 70 Even the conquest of Constantinople by the Fourth Crusade more than a hundred years later, in 1204, was preceded by much debate and disagreement which resulted in the crusader army being badly affected by desertions. See Donald E. Queller and Thomas F. Madden, The Fourth Crusade: The Conquest of Constantinople, 2nd edn (Philadelphia, PA: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1997). 66

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demonstrated his commitment to the ideal of Christian fraternity. The Anonymous makes special reference, by name, to Robert of Flanders, when referring to the princes who opposed Raymond of Toulouse’s earlier proposal for an attack on Constantinople on the grounds that “it would be improper to fight contra Christianos.”71 We should not fail to underline here that Albert of Aachen, a staunch supporter of the ideal of Christian fraternity, also reproaches Bohemond. He describes the Norman as “cunning ... and greedy” “for aggrandisement and acquisition” whose account, which was “something quite other than the truth,” gained the Pisans’ naval support for an attack on “a city inhabited by Greek Christians (catholici Greci).”72 From Albert’s perspective, Westerners and Byzantines were members of the one catholic Christian Church. Following the raising of the siege of Latakia, Raymond of Toulouse, Robert of Flanders, and Robert of Normandy entered the city with the citizens’ approval. The governor of Cyprus gave sanction and offered to provide Robert of Flanders and Robert of Normandy with free transport to Constantinople, from where they would continue their homeward journey. The governor’s offer was thankfully accepted.73 According to Orderic Vitalis’s version, the citizens of Latakia, and not the governor of Cyprus, offered to make ready a fleet of the best ships for you [the two Roberts], [which] will escort you and all who choose to follow you to the emperor at Constantinople without charging any fare, and will supply you plentifully with bread and wine and everything you need on the way. 74

Although Orderic’s version is incorrect, it gives us an interesting insight into the Western sense of Christian fraternity. As recounted by the historian, the crusader princes acknowledged that they “have no ships in which to sail home, and the only land route is through the emperor’s territory.” 75 Therefore, they decided to accept the promises of the Greeks, deceitful (uersipelles) though they are, since they are Christians too (quoniam Christiani sunt), and thankfully take what they offer in peace, for we might have had to beg and implore them for these very things.76

The sense of Christian fellowship finally prevailed over the old, well-worn stereotype of the double-dealing Greeks–note, nevertheless, the language 71

Gesta Francorum, 13. Albert of Aachen, Historia Ierosolimitana, 476-7. 73 Lilie, Byzantium, 63; Runciman, History, vol. 1, 301; and Yewdale, Bohemond I, 88-9. 74 Vitalis, Ecclesiastical History, vol. 5, 275. 75 Ibid. 76 Ibid., 274-7. Emphasis added. 72

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employed to describe the Byzantines is not particularly strong: they are uersipelles rather than perfidi, dolosi, subdoli, or fraudulenti. The crusader princes were not to regret their decision, since the Greeks “faithfully (fideliter) carried out their undertakings” according to Orderic.77 Finally, we should not fail to mention a final episode reported by Orderic that also evidences clearly the Westerners’ commitment to the notion of religious affinity between Western and Eastern Christians. When the crusaders broke into Jerusalem on 15 July 1099, the Greeks, as well as the Armenians and Syrians of the city, fled to the church of the Holy Sepulchre, where they prayed, awaiting the outcome of events. Upon entering the church with his forces, Tancred “realised that these men were worshippers of Christ.”78 Orderic has the Norman prince declare that “these men ... are Christians” and instruct his soldiers that none of you therefore should harm them in any way. We did not come here to harm the servants of Christ, but to free them from their cruel persecutors. They are our brothers and friends (fratres nostri sunt et amici); faithful (fideles) [Christians] up to now through many tribulations.79

The strict adherence of the Westerners to the ideal of Christian fraternity is not surprising given the circumstances surrounding the plea for the First Crusade made by Urban II. Hadn’t the pope dramatically stressed the religious affinity between Eastern and Western Christians in his emotional speech at Clermont? Hadn’t he described Eastern and Western Christians as germani fratres, and filii of the same, and only one, Ecclesia? Hadn’t he inculcated Western Christians with the idea of combat in the noble cause of liberating their Eastern brethren? b.

Byzantine Deceit

As has been seen, Greek deceit is once mentioned in Orderic’s account only to be immediately overshadowed by the strong belief in the notion of Christian fellowship. Nevertheless, Greek treachery is more strongly criticised by Ralph of Caen. The Norman expedition of the First Crusade only crossed from Bari to Epiros on 26 October 1096. Bohemond had delayed his departure from southern Italy because he needed some time to prepare his forces. However, Ralph provides his own distorted explanation. Presumably having in mind an ugly incident between the Normans and the imperial mercenary troops on the River Vardar, the chronicler claims that Bohemond delayed his passage to the Byzantine Empire 77

Ibid., 276-7. Ibid., 169. 79 Ibid., 168-71. 78

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because “he feared the ambushes of the Greeks (Græcorum insidiæ) since they had a habit of attacking even those whom they had earlier invited as guests.”80 When the Norman army reached Roussa on 1 April 1097, Bohemond received an imperial letter that concluded by urging the Norman leader to hasten to Constantinople together with a few men. Bohemond agreed to Alexios’s proposal, and left his army under the command of his nephew Tancred, whom Ralph pictures as he “shuddered at these events as being the false friendship of the Greeks (fraudulenta Graecorum familiaritas).”81 Ralph’s account is coloured by hindsight. From the chronicle’s biased standpoint, Alexios had deceitfully invited Bohemond to hurry on to Constantinople with only a few men in order to force him to take the oath of allegiance to him. Despite the fact that Bohemond had very readily sworn the oath to the Byzantine ruler,82 Ralph, who considered the oathtaking degrading and humiliating, imagined that the Norman prince was forced and tricked into swearing it. It is also very probable that Ralph alleges that Bohemond was beguiled by Alexios and “was forced to accept this yoke [the oath]”83 in order to justify the fact that the Norman leader later broke his oath. Ralph’s denunciation of the Græcorum insidiæ and fraudulenta Graecorum familiaritas can be fully explained if the military conflict between the Byzantine Empire and the Principality of Antioch, a conflict initiated as early as the turn of the twelfth century, is taken into consideration. Greek deceit was in fact a topos that went back to Antiquity.84 This topos reasserted itself in the Gesta Tancredi as a result of the military conflict between Byzantium and Antioch–remember Ralph served in the entourages of both Bohemond and Tancred, the first two princes of the Principality of Antioch. In Ralph’s criticism of Alexios, the references to the Græcorum insidiæ and fraudulenta Graecorum familiaritas served a rhetorical function. It should be underscored, nevertheless, that despite its rhetorical sophistication, the work of Ralph of Caen survives only in a single manuscript, a fact testifying to its very low popularity. 80 Ralph of Caen. Gesta Tancredi in expeditione Hierosolymitana, RHC Oc., 3 (Paris: Imprimerie Impériale, 1866), 606; Ralph of Caen, Gesta Tancredi: a History of the Normans on the First Crusade, trans. Bernard S. Bachrach and David Steward Bachrach (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2005), 23. Cf. Aeneid and especially Aeneas’s denunciation of “the treachery of the Greeks” (Danaum insidias), see Virgil, Eclogues, Georgics, Aeneid I-VI, trans. H. Rushton Fairclough (London: Heinemann, 1978), 298-9. 81 Ralph of Caen, Gesta Tancredi, 612; Ralph of Caen, History of the Normans on the First Crusade, 31. I made minor changes in the translation of B. S. Bachrach and D. S. Bachrach. The scholars translate fraudulenta Graecorum familiaritas as “the familiar deceit of the Greeks.” 82 Shepard, “When Greek Meets Greek,” 203-4. 83 Ralph of Caen, History of the Normans on the First Crusade, 32. 84 Virgil, Aeneid I-VI, 296-305; Marcus Tullius Cicero, Letters to His Brother Quintus and Others, trans. W. Glynn Williams et al. (London: Heinemann, 1989), 405, 443.

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Surprisingly, the last reference to the “deceits of the Greeks” comes from the pen of Albert of Aachen. Godfrey of Bouillon had arrived in Constantinople on 23 December. Without delay, Alexios dispatched Hugh of Vermandois to Godfrey to persuade him to go to the imperial palace for an audience with the Byzantine ruler. According to Albert, hardly had the duke [Godfrey] received this legation when certain strangers from the land of the Franks arrived secretly in the duke’s camp, and they warned him very seriously to beware the tricks and poisoned garments of the emperor, and his deceitful words, and under no circumstances to go into his presence, no matter what coaxing promises he gave … The duke, therefore, warned by the strangers in this way and well schooled in the Greeks’ deceptions (Grecorum deceptiones edoctus), did not go into the emperor’s presence at all.85

Given the fact that Albert of Aachen is generally very well disposed not only towards the Greek Christians but also towards Alexios, 86 the reference to the Grecorum deceptiones comes as a surprise. However, in actual fact, it simply serves as a figure of speech, a literary topos, which follows the wave of accusations hurled against the Byzantine emperor by the “strangers from the land of the Franks.” Obviously, this reference does not undermine Albert’s overall positive attitude and perception toward the Greeks. Apart from the aforementioned authors, the rest of the Latin chroniclers of the First Crusade and its aftermath under investigation do not refer to or denounce the Greeks as deceitful. c.

Byzantine Military Inability, Effeminacy and Laziness

One of the traits the Westerners ascribed to the Greeks since Antiquity was military inability and cowardice.87 This trait, which had become a topos, also occurs in certain chronicles of the First Crusade. In the middle of February 1097, the Normans marching to Constantinople reached the River Vardar. The main part of the army crossed it promptly. However, a small party delayed on the western bank of the river and was thus attacked by Petcheneg and Turcopole soldiers who were ordered by the Byzantine emperor to ensure that the crusaders never stayed in the same place more than three days. Upon hearing of the fight, Tancred, with two thousand men, immediately recrossed the river and went to the rescue of the party 85

Albert of Aachen, Historia Ierosolimitana, 74-5. Emphasis added. See ibid., 28, 30, 84, 588. Alexios is described by Albert as magnificus, nominatissimus, Christianissimus, gloriosus, potentissimus and pius imperator. 87 Livy, Books V-VII, trans. B. O. Foster (London: Heinemann, 1924), 446-7; Julius Caesar, Alexandrian, African and Spanish Wars, trans. A. G. Way (London: Heinemann, 1955), 30. 86

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that had been attacked. The Petchenegs were eventually defeated and some of them were captured. A different, but to a great extent inaccurate, account of the incident at the river Vardar is given by Ralph of Caen. In his Gesta Tancredi, the Petchenegs who attacked the Normans who delayed crossing the Vardar were replaced by Greeks assailing the Normans on both banks of the river. According to Ralph’s tale, “a multitude of [Greek] ambushers,” to whom “the small size of the Latin force became clear,” attacked the Normans who had first crossed Vardar. Before long, however, these pitiable men [the Greeks] were headed for immediate flight or to their deaths … This weak people was struck down and was taught not to make any further assumptions based on the small number of Franks. Rather, they learned that 100 of them were not equal to one.88

After this battle, and as soon as the main army with the Norman leaders had crossed the river, the Greeks, who had been sent to follow the trail of the Latins, … rushed upon the remaining men in order to wet their swords with blood just as wolves slaughter sheep who have been deprived of their shepherd and dogs.89

Without delay, however, Tancred recrossed the river and the enemy was put to flight. Ralph’s variation on the incident in Vardar seems to have had a twofold aim. First, the substitution of Greeks for Petchenegs must have been a rhetorical artifice. Given the strained relations between the Byzantine Empire and the Principality of Antioch during Bohemond’s reign and Tancred’s regency, relations characterised by conflict and even an expedition against the western frontier of the Byzantine Empire,90 Ralph could have better served his rhetorical purposes by “staging” a battle between Latins and Greeks rather than between Latins and Petchenegs. Secondly, by setting “a multitude” of Greeks attacking on both banks of the river and eventually being defeated by “the small size of the Latin force,” Ralph overemphasised the military capacity of the Westerners in direct contradiction to the inability and cowardice of the Greeks. This further served Ralph’s rhetoric to eulogise his lord Tancred and the Latins in general. With reference to the oath of fealty to Alexios and the crusader leaders’ pledge to hand over to the emperor any captured territory which had formerly belonged to the Byzantine Empire, Ralph of Caen comments that 88

Ralph of Caen, History of the Normans on the First Crusade, 25. Ibid., 26. 90 Lilie, Byzantium, 61-94. 89

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This argument is spurious, resting on the clichéd Western stereotype of the Byzantines as militarily incapable and cowards, rather than on a careful evaluation of the Byzantine Empire’s actual situation at the time of the First Crusade and its aftermath, a situation which had in any event improved. 92 The underlining of Byzantine military inability by Ralph not only functions as a literary topos but also seeks to demonstrate that Latin military intervention, i.e. the crusades, and Latin presence in the East, i.e. the Latin states, were indispensable to the Christian faith. Even Albert of Aachen does not fail to refer to Byzantine military incapacity and effeminacy. On one occasion, the chronicler actually cites a speech by Kilij Arslan (1092-1107), Seljuk sultan of Rum. According to Albert’s quotation of the sultan, the Byzantine imperial army is made up of soft and effeminate Greeks (gens Grecorum mollis et effeminata), who have rarely been troubled by the exercise of wars, and could easily be overcome by the strength of hard men. 93

On a second occasion, Albert refers to an incident that took place in late 1113.94 Approximately forty Western crusaders, who were in Palestine and desired to return to their lands, followed the road through Asia Minor. They arrived in Mirra, “where they were very kindly welcomed by the Greeks, Christian men (viri Christiani), with all provision of supplies” 95 –we should note here that Albert does not fail to reaffirm the Christian identity of the Greeks at every opportunity. At this time, Malik Shah (1110-16), sultan of Rum, raided Byzantine territory up to the walls of Nicaea. The Turks besieged Mirra and after some days attacked the principal gate of the town. According to Albert, “the soldiers of the Greeks, effeminate men (viri effeminati)” put up only “little resistance”96 and were soon exhausted by the fighting. Thus, the Turks eventually gained entrance to Mirra from the gate that the Greeks had failed to defend effectively and massacred or took captives the citizens of the town. The crusaders who were in Mirra were 91

Ralph of Caen, Gesta Tancredi, 618; Ralph of Caen, History of the Normans on the First Crusade, 40-1. Bachrach and Bachrach omitted to translate the last sentence of this quotation. 92 Angold, The Byzantine Empire, 157. 93 Albert of Aachen, Historia Ierosolimitana, 254-5. 94 Ibid., 846-7. 95 Ibid. Emphasis added. 96 Ibid.

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beheaded. However, despite these denunciations of Greek effeminacy and military weakness, Albert does not fail to describe the Greeks as skilful at fighting with bow and arrow (arcu docti et sagitta), when he is describing the composition of Alexios’s army marching to Antioch to assist the crusaders.97 Effeminacy is also attributed to the Byzantines by Kerbogha, Atabeg of Mosul, in the accounts of the Anonymous, Guibert of Nogent, and Robert the Monk. The Anonymous makes the Turkish Atabeg declare that he came with his army to the rescue of the Turks of Antioch because they were scandalised to think that those [crusader] leaders and commanders ... should lay claim to the land which ... [the Turks] have conquered by an effeminate people (effeminatae gentes) [the Byzantines].98

Likewise, Guibert has Kerbogha proclaim that the Turks had “every right to the land” which they had captured “from a nation [the Byzantines] scarcely better than women (natio vix feminas aequiperans).”99 In Robert’s version, the Turkish prince states that the crusaders “did not follow a sensible policy in taking arms against us [the Turks] on behalf of an effeminate race (effeminata gens).”100 Laziness had also been a trait imputed to the Greeks since Antiquity, 101 along with effeminacy, cowardice, and military weakness. These four traits were obviously interrelated. Guibert of Nogent does not fail to ascribe laziness to the Byzantines. According to the chronicler, Hugh of Vermandois’s “unbounded fame as the brother of the King of France preceded him,” “particularly among the Greeks, who are the laziest of men (praesertim apud inertissimos hominum Graecos).”102 With respect to the oath of allegiance to Alexios, although the majority of the crusader leaders readily took it, the biased chronicler Guibert who perceived the oath-taking as unworthy of the Western princes and unjust makes them say: the fact that we had been compelled by the puny Greeks (per Graeculos),103 laziest of all people (omnium inertissimi), to swear an oath would be to our eternal shame.104 97

Ibid., 310. Gesta Francorum, 67. 99 Guibert de Nogent, Dei gesta, 235; Guibert of Nogent, Deeds of God, 108. 100 Robert the Monk, Historia Iherosolimitana, RHC Oc., 3 (Paris: Imprimerie Impériale, 1866), 826; Robert the Monk, History of the First Crusade, 166. 101 Marcus Tullius Cicero, The Verrine Orations, trans. L. H. G. Greenwood, vol. 1 (London: Heinemann, 1966) 300-1. 102 Guibert de Nogent, Dei gesta, 135; Guibert of Nogent, Deeds of God, 55. 103 For a survey on the use of the term Graeculus by Latin classical authors, see Nikos Petrocheilos, Roman Attitudes to the Greeks (Athens: National and Capodistrian University 98

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Obviously the above assessments of the Byzantines as militarily incapable, effeminate and lazy are not only very few, given the large number of Latin accounts of the First Crusade, but also reflect generalised stereotypes or, at the very most, a slight contempt, rather than specific identifiable criticism, condemnation or “anti-Byzantine” sentiment. It should be noted in this context that it was in the eleventh and especially twelfth centuries that national stereotypes became more elaborate and a literary tradition of loci communes and clichés was developed to characterise European “nations” in either a derisive or complimentary manner.105 In this tradition, the Greeks were prudent and eloquent but also cowardly. A typical example of this is found in the work of Orderic Vitalis. On 28 August 1137 the army of the Byzantine Emperor John II (1118-43) reached Antioch and began to lay siege to the city.106 Orderic quotes a follower of Raymond of Poitiers (1136-49), prince of Antioch, as declaring that “the Greeks are strong in wisdom (prudential pollent) and surpass all other nations in eloquence (eloquentia caeteris nationibus eminent), but in difficult enterprises they lack daring and courage (audacia et fortitudine carent).”107 It should be, nevertheless, stressed that stereotypes such as laziness were by no means reserved for the Greeks. It is worth noting that while Guibert of Nogent describes the Greeks as omnium inertissimi, he relates that in his presence “a certain archdeacon of Mainz,” i.e. a German, vilified (vilipenderit) the French as “idle” (inertes) and “feeble” (marcidos) and “derisively” (irrisorie) described them as Francones.108 After all, inertia was not an exclusively Greek national stereotype.

of Athens, Faculty of Arts, 1974), 48-53. As Petrocheilos concludes, “Graeculus is thus a word of unique type, a diminutive formed from an ethnic name; it reflects the special quality of the relationship of Roman and Greek; by virtue of being a diminutive it can express a variety of attitudes from the mildly patronising to the openly contemptuous”, ibid., 53. In medieval texts, the term Graeculus seems to be used in a pejorative, though not strongly condemnatory, sense. 104 Guibert de Nogent, Dei gesta, 142; Guibert of Nogent, Deeds of God, 60. 105 Manfred Beller and Joep Leerssen, eds, Imagology: The Cultural Construction and Literary Representation of National Characters. A Critical Survey (Amsterdam: Rodopi, 2007); Eugen Weber, “Of Stereotypes and of the French,” Journal of Contemporary History 25 (1990): 169-203; Horst Fuhrmann, “Quis Teutonicos constituit iudices nationum? The Trouble with Henry,” Speculum 69 (1994): 344-58. 106 Lilie, Byzantium, 120-1; Jonathan Phillips, Defenders of the Holy Land: Relations between the Latin East and the West, 1119-1187 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1996), 69. 107 Vitalis, Ecclesiastical History, vol. 6, 504-5. I made minor amendments to Chibnall’s translation. 108 Guibert de Nogent, Dei gesta, 108.

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III. Conclusion From what we have already seen, it becomes obvious that, on the whole, in the Latin historiography of the First Crusade and its aftermath, which was composed in the first four decades of the twelfth century, there are no feelings of hostility towards the Byzantines. The Greeks, who lived within or outside the confines of the Byzantine Empire, were considered as Christian brethren. Stereotypes such as laziness, effeminacy, cowardice and military inability, were only sporadically attributed to them, and only very rarely were the Greeks portrayed as deceitful. The argument that the Latin historiography of the First Crusade and its aftermath is “anti-Byzantine” or “anti-Greek” does not stand up to close scrutiny. Although the Latin historiography of the first forty years of the twelfth century is, to a great extent, anti-Alexian, in general it bears no evidence of negative sentiment towards the Byzantine people on the whole. On the contrary, the Byzantines seem to have been perceived as the Westerners’ Christian brethren. After all, the liberation and protection of the Eastern Christians against the Muslims was one of the two primary objectives of the First Crusade as established in the dramatic speech of Urban II at Clermont.

Bibliography Primary Sources Albert of Aachen. Historia Ierosolimitana, History of the Journey to Jerusalem. Edited and translated by Susan B. Edgington. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 2007. Anna Komnena. The Alexiad. Translated by E. R. A. Sewter. London: Penguin, 1969. Baldric of Dol. Historia Jerosolimitana. RHC Oc., 4, 1-111. Paris: Imprimerie Impériale, 1868. Caesar, Julius. Alexandrian, African and Spanish Wars. Translated by A.G. Way. London: Heinemann, 1955. Cicero, Marcus Tullius. Letters to His Brother Quintus and Others. Translated by W. Glynn Williams et al. London: Heinemann, 1989. Cicero, Marcus Tullius. The Verrine Orations. Translated by L. H. G. Greenwood, 2 vols. London: Heinemann, 1966. Ekkehard of Aura. Hierosolomyta. RHC Oc., 5, 1-40. Paris: Imprimerie Impériale, 1868. France, John. “A Critical Edition of the Historia Francorum of Raymond of Aguilers.” PhD diss., University of Nottingham, 1967.

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Fulcher of Chartres. A History of the Expedition to Jerusalem 1095-1127. Edited by Harold S. Fink, and translated by Frances Rita Ryan. Knoxville: University of Tennessee Press, 1960. Fulcher of Chartres. Historia Hierosolymitana. RHC Oc., 3, 311-485. Paris: Imprimerie Impériale, 1866. Gesta Francorum et Aliorum Hierosolimitanorum. Translated by Rosalind Hill. London: Oxford University Press, 1962. Guibert de Nogent. Dei gesta per Francos. Edited by Robert Burchard Constantijn Huygens. Corpus Christianorum. Continuatio Mediaevalis, 127A. Turnhout: Brepols, 1996. Guibert of Nogent. The Deeds of God through the Franks. Translated by Robert Levine. Woodbridge: Boydell Press, 1997. Krey, August Charles, ed. and trans. The First Crusade. Accounts of EyeWitnesses and Participants. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1921. Livy. Books V-VII. Translated by B. O. Foster. London: Heinemann, 1924. Orderic Vitalis. The Ecclesiastical History. Edited and translated by Marjorie Chibnall, 6 vols. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1969-80. Pope Gregory VII. The Register of Pope Gregory VII, 1073-1085. Translated by Herbert Edward John Cowdrey. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Ralph of Caen. Gesta Tancredi: a History of the Normans on the First Crusade. Translated by Bernard S. Bachrach and David Steward Bachrach. Aldershot: Ashgate, 2005. Ralph of Caen. Gesta Tancredi in expeditione Hierosolymitana. RHC Oc., 3, 587716. Paris: Imprimerie Impériale, 1866. Raymond of Aguilers. Historia Francorum Qui Ceperunt Iherusalem. Translated by John Hugh Hill and Laurita L. Hill. Philadelphia: American Philosophical Society, 1968. Robert the Monk. Historia Iherosolimitana. RHC Oc., 3, 717-882. Paris: Imprimerie Impériale, 1866. Robert the Monk. History of the First Crusade. Translated by Carol Sweetenham. Aldershot: Ashgate, 2005. Virgil. Eclogues, Georgics, Aeneid I-VI. Translated by H. Rushton Fairclough. London: Heinemann, 1978. William of Malmesbury. Gesta Regum Anglorum. Edited and translated by Roger Aubrey Baskerville Mynors et al., 2 vols. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1998-9.

Secondary Sources Angold, Michael. The Byzantine Empire, 1025-1204: a Political History, 2nd edn. London: Longman, 1997.

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Beller, Manfred, and Joep Leerssen, eds. Imagology: The Cultural Construction and Literary Representation of National Characters. A Critical Survey. Amsterdam: Rodopi, 2007. Cate, James Lea. “The Crusade of 1101.” In A History of the Crusades, edited by Kenneth M. Setton, 2nd edn, vol. 1, 343-67. Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1969. Cowdrey, H. E. J. “Pope Urban II’s Preaching of the First Crusade.” History 55 (1970): 177-88. Cross, F. L., ed. Oxford Dictionary of the Christian Church. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1958. Daly, William M. “Christian Fraternity, the Crusaders and the Security of Constantinople.” Medieval Studies 22 (1960): 43-91. Edgington, Susan. “Albert of Aachen Reappraised.” In From Clermont to Jerusalem: the Crusades and Crusader Societies 1095-1500, edited by Alan V. Murray, 55-67. Turnhout: Brepols 1998. Edgington, Susan. “The First Crusade: Reviewing the Evidence.” In The First Crusade, Origins and Impact, edited by Jonathan Phillips, 55-77. Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1997. France, John. “The Departure of Tatikios from the Crusader Army.” Bulletin of the Institute of Historical Research 44 (1971): 137-47. France, John. “The Use of the Anonymous Gesta Francorum in the Early TwelfthCentury Sources for the First Crusade.” In From Clermont to Jerusalem: the Crusades and Crusader Societies 1095-1500, edited by Alan V. Murray, 29-42. Turnhout: Brepols 1998. France, John. Victory in the East: a Military History of the First Crusade. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1994. Fuhrmann, Horst. “Quis Teutonicos constituit iudices nationum? The Trouble with Henry.” Speculum 69 (1994): 344-58. Harris, Jonathan. Byzantium and the Crusades. London: Hambledon and London, 2003. Kolbaba, Tia M. “Byzantine Perceptions of Latin Religious “Errors”: Themes and Changes from 850 to 1350.” In The Crusades from the Perspective of Byzantium and the Muslim World, edited by Angeliki E. Laiou and Roy Parviz Mottahedeh, 117-43. Washington, D.C.: Harvard University Press, 2001. Lilie, Ralph-Johannes. Byzantium and the Crusader States, 1096-1204. Translated by J. C. Morris and Jean E. Ridings. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1993. Lock, Peter. The Routledge Companion to the Crusades. London: Routledge, 2006. McQueen, W. B. “Relations between the Normans and Byzantium, 1071-1112.” Byzantion 56 (1986): 427-76.

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Munro, Dana Carleton. “The Speech of Pope Urban II at Clermont, 1095.” American Historical Review 11 (1906): 231-42. Murray, Alan V. The Crusades: An Encyclopedia, 4 vols. Santa Barbara, CA; Oxford: ABC-CLIO, 2006. Petrocheilos, Nikos. Roman Attitudes to the Greeks. Athens: National and Capodistrian University of Athens, Faculty of Arts, 1974. Phillips, Jonathan. Defenders of the Holy Land: Relations between the Latin East and the West, 1119-1187. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1996. Queller, Donald E., and Thomas F. Madden. The Fourth Crusade: The Conquest of Constantinople, 2nd edn. Philadelphia, PA: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1997. Rowe, J. G. “Paschal II, Bohemund of Antioch and the Byzantine Empire.” Bulletin of John Rylands Library 49 (1966): 165-202. Runciman, Steven. A History of the Crusades, 3 vols. London: Cambridge University Press, 1951. Runciman, Steven. “Byzantium and the Crusades.” In The Meeting of Two Worlds: Cultural Exchange between East and West during the Period of the Crusades, edited by Vladimir P. Goss and Christine Verzár Bornstein, 15-22. Kalamazoo, MI: Medieval Institute Publications, Western Michigan University, 1986. Runciman, Steven. “The First Crusade: Constantinople to Antioch.” In A History of the Crusades, edited by Kenneth M. Setton, 2nd edn, vol. 1, 280-304. Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1969. Shepard, Jonathan. “When Greek Meets Greek: Alexius Comnenus and Bohemond in 1097-98.” Byzantine and Modern Greek Studies 12 (1988): 185-277. Weber, Eugen. “Of Stereotypes and of the French.” Journal of Contemporary History 25 (1990): 169-203. Yewdale, Ralph Bailey. Bohemond I, Prince of Antioch. Princeton: Princeton University Press.

ANTI-BYZANTINE POLEMIC IN THE DEI GESTA PER FRANCOS OF GUIBERT, ABBOT OF NOGENT-SOUS-COUCY LÉAN NÍ CHLÉIRIGH The number of contemporary or near-contemporary histories of the First Crusade (1095-9) is unparalleled in the historiography of the late eleventh and early twelfth centuries. Not only were a number of eyewitnesses and participants eager to record the achievements of the Latins for posterity, but writers who had no apparent connection to the events, were similarly prompted to put ink to parchment. One of the earliest chronicles to surface in the West was the Gesta Francorum et Aliorum Hierosolimitanorum.1 This was an anonymous account which was incorporated, to a greater or lesser degree, into the majority of the early narratives of the First Crusade.2 The identity of the author of the Gesta Francorum has been the subject of considerable debate among scholars with some deeming him to be an educated layman rather than a cleric.3 The possibility of his being a

1 For the date of the anonymous Gesta Francorum, and its use by later authors, see Heinrich Hagenmeyer, introduction to Anonymi Gesta Francorum et Aliorum Hierosolymitanorum (Heidelberg: Carl Winter, 1890), 49-92. 2 Hagenmeyer, introduction to Anonymi Gesta Francorum, 49-92; John France, “The Anonymous Gesta Francorum and the Historia Francorum qui ceperunt Iherusalem of Raymond of Aguilers and the Historia de Hierosolymitano Itinere of Peter Tudebode,” in The Crusades and their Sources: Essays Presented to Bernard Hamilton, ed. John France and William G. Zajac (Aldershot: Ashgate, 1998), 39-69; John France, “The Use of the Anonymous Gesta Francorum in the Early Twelfth-Century Sources for the First Crusade,” in From Clermont to Jerusalem: The Crusades and Crusader Societies, 1095-1500, ed. Alan V. Murray (Turnhout: Brepols, 1998), 29-42; Jay Rubenstein, “What was the Gesta Francorum and who was Peter Tudebode?” Revue Mabillon 16 (2005): 55-71. 3 Hagenmeyer, introduction to Anonymi Gesta Francorum, 1-10; Histoire Anonyme de la première Croisade, ed. Louis Brehier (Paris: Librairie Ancienne Honore Champion, 1924),v-viii; Rosalind Hill, introduction to The Deeds of the Franks and Other Pilgrims to Jerusalem (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1967); Colin Morris, “Policy and Visions–The case of the Holy Lance at Antioch,” in War and Government in the Middle Ages, eds John Gillingham, and James Clarke Holt (Woodbridge: Barnes and Noble, 1984), 34-45; Colin Morris, “The Gesta Francorum as Narrative History,” Reading Medieval Studies 19

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layman was suggested in order to account for his relatively simplistic Latin, his unsophisticated theology and his familiarity with military terminology.4 That he was in the Southern Norman contingent of Bohemond of Taranto, at least until the departure of the main crusade army from Antioch in early 1099, is almost universally accepted. The perceived stylistic simplicity of the Anonymous drew criticism from a number of contemporary clerics in Western Europe. At least three were prompted to rewrite the history in more suitable Latin so that such wondrous deeds would be recorded in a standard and style of Latin that would be appropriate to their magnitude.5 These authors –Robert “the Monk,” Baldric of Dol and Guibert Abbot of Nogent-sous-Coucy–were clerics from the north of France who, despite being apparently ignorant of each others efforts in reworking the Gesta Francorum, made amendments to their source based on broadly the same criticisms.6 Apart from reworking the Gesta Francorum stylistically and textually, all the authors added information which was lacking in the anonymous source. These additions were principally at the beginning of their work and included, most significantly, a substantial account of the speech of Urban II (1088-99) at Clermont, an event which had received only cursory attention in the anonymous Gesta Francorum.7 (1993): 55-71; Conor Kostick, “A Further Discussion on the Authorship of the Gesta Francorum,” Reading Medieval Studies 35 (2009) forthcoming. 4 See Hagenmeyer, introduction to Anonymi Gesta Francorum, 1-10; Histoire Anonyme, vviii; Hill, introduction to The Deeds of the Franks, xi-xvi; Kostick, “A Further Discussion.” 5 Robert the Monk, Historia Iherosolimitana, RHC Occ., 3 (Paris: Imprimerie Impériale, 1866), 721, quidam etenim abbas nomine Bernardus, litterarum scientia et morum probitate præditus, ostendit mihi unam historiam secundum hanc materiam, sed ei admodum displicebat, partim quia initium suum, quod in Clari Montis concilio constituum fuit, non habebat, partim quia series tam pulchræ materiei inculta jacebat, et litteralium compositio dictionum inculta vacillabat. Præcepit igitur mihi ut, qui Clari Montis concilio interfui, acephalæ materiei caput præponerem et lecturis eam accuratiori stilo componerem; Baldric of Dol, Historia Jerosolimitana, RHC Occ., 4 (Paris: Imprimerie Impériale, 1866), 10, sed nescio quis compilator, nomine suppresso, libellum super hac re nimis rusticanum ediderat; veritatem tamen texuerat, sed propter inurbanitatem codicis, nobilis materia viluerat; et simpliciores etiam inculta et incompta lectio confestim a se avocabat; Guibert of Nogent, Dei Gesta per Francos, ed. Robert Burchard Constantijn Huygens, Corpus Christianorum Continuatio Medievalis (hereafter CCCM), 127 A (Turnhout: Brepols, 1996), 79. Erat siquidem eadem Historia, sed verbis contexta plus equo simplicibus et quae multotiens grammaticae naturas excederet lectoremque vapidi insipiditate sermonis sepius exanimare valeret. 6 See Jonathan Riley-Smith, The First Crusade and the Idea of Crusading (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1991), 135-52. 7 Both Robert and Baldric claimed to have been present at Clermont while Guibert does not. Robert the Monk, Historia Iherosolimitana, 725; Baldric of Dol, Historia Jerosolimitana, 10.

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Both Robert and Baldric incorporated descriptions of the devastation of the Eastern Church by the Turks and the cruelty suffered by the local Christian populations, into Urban’s speech while Guibert inserted a letter from Alexios I Komnenos (1081-1118), emperor of Byzantium, to Robert I of Flanders (1071-93) into his chronicle, in which these details were included.8 All three authors were eager to frame the events of 1096-9 theologically; each identified the victory of the crusade as a fulfillment of scriptural prophecies.9 Of these authors, Guibert added most substantially to his source.10 The first book of the Dei Gesta per Francos and much of the second describe the background to Urban’s call including, the political and moral state of the Byzantine Empire, a fictional life of the Prophet Mohammed and the letter from Alexios to Robert of Flanders as well as an account of the speech at Clermont. Guibert also added some detail to the Anonymous’s brief account of the journeys of the crusaders to Constantinople. While the Gesta Francorum concluded after the Battle of Ascalon in 1099, Guibert continued to describe the death of Godfrey of Bouillon in 1100 and the disastrous Crusade of 1101.11 Guibert’s source material was not confined to the Gesta Francorum. He received a copy of the first redaction of Fulcher of Chartres’s Historia Hierosolimitana when his composition was at an advanced stage. In his preface, Guibert stated that material added to that which was contained in his principal source was from eyewitness testimony or his own enquiries.12 The quality of these unidentified sources, written or oral, is clear in the parallels between Guibert’s description of Urban’s speech at Clermont and those of eyewitnesses.13 The Dei Gesta per Francos was not Guibert’s only work. By contemporary standards he was a prolific writer, composing works on sermons, biblical exegesis of the Book of Genesis, an autobiography or memoirs, a treatise against the Jews, a work on the treatment of relics and a chronicle of the First Crusade, Dei Gesta per

8 For the letter of Alexios to Robert, see Epistolae et Chartae ad historiam primi belli sacri spectantes, ed. Heinrich Hagenmeyer (Hildesheim; New York: Olms, 1973 reprint), 129-36. While the integrity of this letter has been much queried, Guibert was apparently convinced of its authenticity. For the arguments against its authenticity see Einar Joransen, “The Problem of the Spurious Letter of Emperor Alexius to the Count of Flanders,” American Historical Review 55 (1949-50): 811-32. 9 Riley-Smith, The First Crusade and the Idea of Crusading, 142-3. 10 Huygens, introduction to Dei Gesta Per Francos, by Guibert of Nogent (Turnhout: Brepols, 1996), 9-12. 11 For the death of Godfrey, Guibert, Dei Gesta, 317. For the 1101 expedition, ibid., 312-13. 12 Guibert, Dei Gesta, 78. Quae autem addiderim,aut ab his qui videre didicerim aut per me ipsum agnoverim. 13 Dana Carleton Munro, “The Speech of Pope Urban II at Clermont 1095,” American Historical Review 11 (1905): 230-42.

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Francos.14 His autobiographical work, De Vita Sua, is a rare example of this genre in the Medieval West and as a result has been the focus of much research since the late nineteenth century, its author being lauded as both a great French hero and a troubled soul suffering from oedipal urges and a castration complex.15 By contrast, his crusade chronicle received relatively little attention and he is not mentioned by any of his contemporaries.16 Modern historians have been put off by his intentionally convoluted Latin and his apparent lack of historical value; he was neither at the Council of Clermont where the crusade was proclaimed by Pope Urban II, nor was he a participant on the expedition.17 His reputation has however benefited from the increasing interest in the history of ideas and in the historiography of the crusades.18 Guibert’s “improvements” on a source which is available to the historian enables a retrieval of his thought processes as to the appropriate elements of a history. A moral overtone appears to be paramount for Guibert. In the Dei Gesta per Francos, there is a clear antagonism towards the Eastern Christians, their Emperor Alexios I Komnenos and the Byzantine character. Some of this was inherited from his source, however much was added and Guibert clearly felt strongly regarding the moral, political and religious degeneracy of the Byzantines. Guibert was born near or in Clermont-en-Beauvais between the years 1055 and 1064.19 He was born into a family of some nobility and he included his father’s 14

Guibert of Nogent, Monodiae, ed. Edmond-René Labande (Paris: Belles Lettres, 1981); Guibert of Nogent, Quo Ordine Sermo Fieri Debeat, ed. Robert Burchard Constantijn Huygens, CCCM, 127 (Turnhout: Brepols, 1996), 7-9, 47-63; Guibert of Nogent, De Bucella Iudae Data et de Verite Dominici Corporis, ed. Robert Burchard Constantijn Huygens, CCCM, 127 (Turnhout: Brepols, 1996), 9-13, 65-77; Guibert of Nogent, De Sanctis et eorum Pigneribus, ed. Robert Burchard Constantijn Huygens, CCCM, 127 (Turnhout: Brepols, 1996), 13-16, 79-109; Guibert of Nogent, Dei Gesta per Francos, ed. Robert Burchard Constantijn Huygens, CCCM, 127 A (Turnhout: Brepols, 1996); Huygens, introduction to Dei Gesta, 1, n.1, for his use of the name Dei Gesta per Francos rather than Gesta Dei per Francos. 15 See Jay Rubenstein, Guibert of Nogent: Portrait of a Medieval Mind (London: Routledge, 2002), 1-10, for a comprehensive summary of the scholarship on Guibert’s life and personality. 16 There are, however eight surviving manuscripts from the twelfth century and one from the thirteenth century. See Huygens, introduction to Dei Gesta, 24-50. 17 Ferdinand Chalandon, Essai sur le Regne d’Alexis Ier Comnene, I: Les Comnene (New York: Burt Franklin,1960), xxxv. 18 Recent use of the narratives of the First Crusade for their attitudes to women and their treatment of social status include Conor Kostick, The Social Structure of the First Crusade (Leiden: Brill, 2008); Natasha Hodgson, Women, Crusading and the Holy Land in the Historical Narrative (Woodbridge: Boydell, 2007). 19 Rubenstein, Portrait of a Medieval Mind, 17; Annalles Ordinis S. Benedicti, ed. Jean Mabillon, vol. 4 (Lucca, 1739-45), 497; Guibert of Nogent, Monodiae, ix, 89-90; John F.

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name, Evrard in his history but not his mother’s.20 His birth was complicated and at one point the lives of both mother and baby were in danger, prompting his father to make a vow that should both survive, the child was to be dedicated to the church.21 Guibert’s father died when he was a baby and his mother was the driving force of his upbringing until, when Guibert was twelve, she attached herself to the monastery at St Germer-de-Fly.22 The tutor, whom his mother had assigned to him, joined the same monastery soon afterwards and Guibert lived with his cousins for a period before joining the monastery too.23 It is possibly during this stay with his cousins that Guibert’s loyalties towards the nobility were formed. Guibert was often scathing of the behaviour of the lower classes on the crusade and had little sympathy for their trials.24 The Dei Gesta per Francos was written circa 1109, some thirteen years after the Council of Clermont at which Urban II preached the campaign to the East and ten or so years after the triumph of the crusaders in their capture of Jerusalem. This date of completion suggests at least one reason for Guibert’s antagonism towards the Byzantines. As we have seen, Guibert continued the narrative of the Gesta Francorum to include the expedition of 1101, whose failure he attributed to the treachery of Alexios.25 Since the fall of Antioch in 1098, relations between the crusader Bohemond of Antioch and the Byzantine Emperor Alexios I Komnenos had deteriorated due to a dispute over lordship of the city. In 1106, Bohemond returned to France to recruit more crusaders, making a tour of France and marrying the daughter of King Philip I of France (1060-1108).26 According to Orderic Vitalis, Bohemond agitated for an attack on Byzantium and indeed the “crusade”

Benton, Self and Society in Medieval France: The Memoirs of Abbot Guibert of Nogent (1064-c. 1125) (New York: Harper and Row, 1984), 230-2; Paul, J. Archambaud, A Monk’s Confession: The Memoirs of Guibert of Nogent (Philadelphia, Pennsylvania University Press, 1995), xiv. 20 Guibert of Nogent, Monodiae, 148-9. Despite the large proportion of the autobiography devoted to his mother, Guibert does not give her name. For a young man who was Guibert’s vassal. Guibert, Dei Gesta, 198. 21 Guibert, Monodiae, 40-1. 22 Ibid., 100-3. 23 Ibid., 108-11. 24 “His (Guibert’s) hatred of poor people also penetrates the text, often to bring into higher relief the behaviour of aristocrats,” Robert Levine, introduction to The Deeds of God through the Franks: A Translation of Guibert de Nogent’s Gesta Dei per Francos (Woodbridge, 1997), 9, 11; Conor Kostick, “The Language of ordo in the Early Histories of the First Crusade” (PhD diss., Trinity College Dublin, 2006), 148. 25 Guibert, Dei Gesta, 313. 26 Ralph Bailey Yewdale, Bohemund I, Prince of Antioch (New York: Princeton University Press, 1980 reprint), 108-12.

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did not reach the Levant, stopping to attack the Byzantine Empire at Durazzo.27 It has also been suggested that copies of the Gesta Francorum were distributed by Bohemond as part of this “campaign.”28 While there is limited evidence regarding the details of Bohemond’s reasons for gathering the expedition, it is possible that the effects of his journey in France and his subsequent defeat by Alexios further hardened Guibert’s opinions towards the Byzantines and their emperor. Although he addressed the work to Bishop Lysiard of Soissons it is not clear what prompted Guibert to compose his history, other than his displeasure with the anonymous Gesta.29 Guibert referred to it scathingly, stating that its language is so unsuitable to the great endeavour which it relates that the reader will laugh at its simplicity.30 There is this same Historia, but composed mostly of plain words and which many times exceeds the nature of grammar and will cause the reader to tire often with insipidity of stale speech.

Guibert did not at any stage in the Dei Gesta voice doubts as to the veracity of his source. Aside from the linguistic refurbishment of the anonymous source, the Dei Gesta is essentially faithful to the Gesta Francorum. Guibert’s additions were predominantly augmentative rather than contradictory. However, this augmentation is at times considerate. The nature of these additions, particularly Book I of the Dei Gesta, allowed Guibert to consider the moral and religious shortcomings of the Byzantines and their emperor. While it would be an error to say that Guibert’s antagonism towards the Byzantines was innovative and not derived from the Anonymous, as with other themes, Guibert added depth and breadth to the sparse references in his source.31

27

See John Gordon Rowe, “Paschal II, Bohemond of Antioch and the Byzantine Empire,” Bulletin of John Rylands Library 49 (1966-7): 165-202. 28 August Charles Krey, “A Neglected Passage in the Gesta and its Bearing on the Literature of the First Crusade,” in The Crusades and Other Historical Essays, ed. Louis Paetow (New York: F.S. Crofts, 1928), 57-78. 29 In his praefatio, Guibert states that he was encouraged to write by others, some of whom asked that he compose in metre. It is not clear whether he is employing a rhetorical device here. (captatio benevolentiae); Guibert, Dei Gesta, 77; see also Huygens, introduction to Dei Gesta, 51, n. 63. 30 Erat siquidem eadem Historia, sed verbis contexta plus equo simplicibus et quae multotiens grammaticae naturas excederet lectoremque vapidi insipiditate sermonis sepius exanimare valeret. Guibert, Dei Gesta, 79. 31 Marc Carriere, “Pour en finir avec les Gesta Francorum: une réflexion historiographique sur l’état des rapports entre Grecs et Latins au début du XIIe siècle et sur l’apport nouveau d’Albert d’Aix,” Crusades 7 (2008): 13-34, esp. 21

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Guibert ascribed a number of traits to the “Greeks”. When Hugh of Vermandois arrived in Byzantium, we are told that as the brother of the King of France, he was particularly respected by the “Greeks, laziest of men.”32 One of his principal objections to the oath of loyalty which the Eastern emperor demanded of the crusading princes was that the Latin leaders would suffer the indignity of having sworn an oath to “those little Greeks.” 33 While the anonymous author of the Gesta states that the princes were unwilling to swear an oath, Guibert made it clear that it would have been an affront to their nobility to swear an oath to the Greeks specifically. Gesta Francorum Bk. II, vi. certainly, this is unworthy of us, and it seems to us by no means just to swear an oath to him.34

Guibert, Bk. III, 179-89. “and certainly”, they said, “if no fear of the future weighed upon us, only that we had been compelled to swear by the puny Greeks, laziest of all people, would be, perpetually shameful to us; Clearly they would say that we, with little hesitation willing or unwilling, had submitted to their authority.”35

The Eastern personality, Guibert explained, was such that stability was not a natural state for them. Politically, their inconstancy and “asiatic levity,” could be seen in the “sudden desertion and reinstatement of rulers.”36 Even when ascribing positive traits to the Byzantines, Guibert found fault with their application. Invoking Isidore of Seville, Guibert described the Byzantines as innately intelligent yet immediately castigated them for abusing this talent. The Byzantines were, for climactic reasons, more intelligent, “clearly these men, according to the 32

inertissimos hominum Grecos. Guibert, Dei Gesta, 135. Quod ubi fuit nostrorum primoribus agnitum, magna est ilico cum subsannatione contemptum: perpenderant plane quia, si quo pacto primos exercitus a cepto exerare contingeret, tot tantosque milites, stipendiorum inopes factos, contra ea quae fecissent sacramenta perfido principi inferre prelium oporteret. “Et certe si nobis,” inquiunt, “nullus incumberet timor futurorum, id solum, quod per Greculos istos, omnium inertissimos, iurare cogeremur, nobis esset sempiterne pudendum: plane eos dicturos minime ambigimus quia, velimus nolimus, ipsorum imperio paruerimus”. Guibert, Dei Gesta, 142. 34 Certe indigni sumus, atque iustum nobis uidetur nullatenus ei sacramentum iurare. Gesta Francorum, ed. Heinrich Hagenmeyer (Heidelberg: Carl Winter, 1890), 171. 35 “Et certe si nobis,” inquiunt, “nullus incumberet timor futurorum, id solum, quod per Greculos istos, omnium inertissimos, iurare cogeremur, nobis esset sempiterne pudendum: plane eos dicturos minime ambigimus quia, velimus nolimus, ipsorum imperio paruerimus.” Guibert, Dei Gesta, 142. 36 super subita principum destitutione ac restitutione miremur. Guibert, Dei Gesta, 93. 33

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purity of the air and skies to which they are born, are with a lightness of body, and therefore of keen talent.”37 However, they abused this brilliance.38 As well as being an undesirable personality trait, the “useless commentaries” of the Byzantines had, according to Guibert, led the Byzantines to religious error and even heresy. In the first book of the Dei Gesta, Guibert provided a historical and moral backdrop to the demise of the Eastern Empire at the hands of the Turks. Guibert recalled the days of fidelis Helenae, mother of Constantine the Great (306-37) where the church flourished in the time of the Roman Empire.39 As we have seen, Guibert described the Asian inconstancy which led to the political instability; religiously this manifested in an inability to remain true to the teachings of the Church Fathers.40 However, the faith of Easterners, as it consistently was staggering and was inconstant and wandering with the grinding of new things, always derailing rules of true belief, defected from the authority of the ancient Fathers.41

The Greek tradition of religious debate among the religious and secular classes alike which Runciman described as oekumene, Guibert dismissed, “they are accustomed to squander the rays of their keenness with many and useless contrivances.”42 Guibert’s criticisms of the Eastern Church were in line with those espoused by the reform papacy throughout the eleventh century and particularly in the schism of 1054. In his rendition of the speech of Pope Urban II at the Council of Clermont

37

Ipsi plane homines, pro aeris et coeli cui innati sunt puritate, cum sint levioris corpulentiae, et idcirco alacrioris ingenii. Guibert, Dei Gesta, 90-1; Secundum diversitatem enim coeli et facies hominum, et colores, et corporum quantitates, et animorum diversitates existunt. Inde Romanos graves, Graecos leves, Afros versipelles, Gallos natura feroces atque acriores ingenio pervidemus, quod natura climatum facit. Isidore of Seville, Isidori Hispalensis Episcopi Etymologiarum sive Originum, Libri XX, Tomus I, Libros I-X Continens, ed. Wallace Martin Lindsay (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1985), 9:2:105. 38 multis et inutilibus commentis solent radio suae perspicacitatis abuti Guibert. Guibert, Dei Gesta, 90. 39 Quem institutionis ordinem post decessum prefatorum per Romani imperii successions diuturnis temporibus, aecclesiastica Historia docente, comperimus perdurasse. Guibert, Dei Gesta, 89. 40 Guibert, Dei Gesta, 91. 41 Orientalium autem fides cum semper nutabunda constiterit et rerum molitione novarum mutabilis et vagabunda fuerit, semper a regula verae credulitatis exorbitans, ab antiquorum Patrum auctoritate descivit. Guibert, Dei Gesta, 89. 42 Steven Runciman, The Eastern Schism (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1971), 4; Guibert, Dei Gesta, 90-1.

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in 1095, Guibert laid bare his views on papal primacy and the claims of the patriarch of Constantinople. If among the churches distributed throughout the whole world, some deserve reverence before others, on account of persons and on account of places–on account of persons, I say, because greater privileges are attributed to the sees of the Apostles, but in the case of places the same degree of dignity which is granted on account of persons, is also attributed to royal cities such as the city of Constantinople–we owe the greatest reverence to that church from which we received the grace of redemption and the origin of all Christianity.43

In his denunciations of the “useless churches” of the Eastern Christians, Guibert harnessed many of the issues between the reform papacy and the Eastern patriarchs, particularly in Constantinople. As well as his assertions of papal primacy, he focused on the disparities of practice between the Eastern and Western Churches, principally, clerical marriage, the substance of the Eucharist and the differences between the creeds used by the two traditions, centring on the filioque clause. While accepting the assertions of among others, Anselm of Canterbury and Humbert that the validity of the Eucharist remains, whether the bread is leavened or unleavened, the other two issues (the filioque clause and clerical marriage) are contrary to the teachings of the Church Fathers and the Western Church.44 In the case of the filioque clause, Eastern practice was tantamount to heresy. Guibert attacked the acceptance of clerical marriage by the Eastern Church claiming that, “no one is made a priest unless he has first chosen marriage.”45 He attributes the Eastern practise to an interpretation of the words of St Paul in his letter to Timothy, that churchmen be the husband of one wife and counters this with the established Latin view.

43 Si inter aecclesias toto orbe diffusas aliae pre aliis reverentiam pro personis locisque merentur–pro personis inquam, dum apostolicis sedibus privilegia maiora traduntur, pro locis vero, dum regiis urbibus eadem quae personis dignitatis, uti est civitas Constantinopolitana, prebetur-illi potissimum aecclesiae deberemus, ex qua gratiam redemptionis et totius originem Christianitatis accepimus. Guibert, Dei Gesta, 111. 44 Scias itaque eorum jam dictis consuetudinibus minime nos opponere reprehensionis obstaculum, quandiu eas Romana Ecclesia duxerit tolerendas, maxime cum non sint de essentia, sive substantia sacramenti. Isidore of Seville, Epistola VII, Isidori Redempto Archidiacono, Patrologia Latina 83:905; Salva ergo ut dignum est, reverentia corporis Domini nostri Jesu Christi, et in fermentato et in azymo, Anselm quia sicut iste panis azymus sive fermentatus, dat vitam transitoriam, ita corpus ejus aeternam: non quia fermentatis est vel azymam. Humbert of Silva Candida, Adversus Graecorum, Patrologia Latina 143:948. 45 nemo ad presbiterium provehatur nisi primo coniugium sortiatur. Guibert, Dei Gesta, 93.

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Léan Ní Chléirigh That this is said not of him who takes and has possession [of a wife], but of him who had [a wife] and sent away her whom he had and possessed, is confirmed most constantly by the authority of the Western Church.46

In the Greek literature arising out of the 1054 conflict, that is the translations of the letter of the Patriarch Michael Keroularios (1043-58) to Bishop Leo of Ohrid and the treatise of Niketas the Greek monk, both of which Cardinal Humbert of Silva Candida translated, the Pauline argument is not used and it is unclear as to the source of Guibert’s information on this point.47 In his refutation of Niketas, Cardinal Humbert refers to the letter however.48 St Paul’s letter to Timothy is used by Western supporters of clerical marriage, including the letter Pseudo-Udalrici Epistola de Continentia Clericorum, which was well known in the eleventh century and condemned by the papacy in 1079.49 This letter seems to have influenced a number of German and French commentaries.50 It is likely therefore that Guibert was aware that clerical marriage was a subject in dispute between the two churches, but that he was not well-informed as to the arguments posed by both sides, he therefore refuted the arguments proposed by the Western supporters of clerical marriage, assuming them to be the same as those of the Eastern Church. Since the introduction of the filioque clause into the creed in the Western Church, both the Eastern and Western Churches had argued that the others creed upset the nature of the Trinity. In the West the clause originally served to secure against the Arian heresy. Guibert implied that to omit the clause led to an inequality of nature in the trinity and that this was a heresy. They have added this pinnacle to their damnation, they consider God to limp, having inflicted upon him an inequality of his own nature.51

46

cum idem dictum non de eo qui habeat et utatur sed de eo qui habuerit habitamque dimiserit constantissime Occidentalis aecclesiae auctorite firmetur. Guibert, Dei Gesta, 93. 47 See Patrologia Latina 143:929-32, 973-83. 48 Sed fortasse hoc licere credit, quia scriptum est “unius uxoris virum.” Non proter permanentiam in concupiscienta generandi hoc dixit, sed propter continentiam futuram. Humbert of Silva Candida, Contra Nicetam, Patrologia Latina 143:999. 49 Pseudo-Udalrici Epistola de Continentia Clericorum, in Monumenta Germaniae Historica Libelli de Lite Imperatorum et Pontificum, 1, 256; Anne Llewellyn Barstow, Married Priests and the Reform Papacy: The Eleventh Century Debates (New York: E. Mellen, 1982), 107, 115-16. 50 Barstow, Married Priests and the Reform Papacy, 115-16. 51 hunc dampnationi suae adiecerunt cumulum ut claudicare perhibeant, inflicta ei propriae naturae inequalitate, deum. Guibert Dei Gesta, 92.

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Guibert employed Matthew 28:19 to oppose the Eastern Church, “if according to the command of the Son of God baptism is to take place in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit.”52 This was a common biblical allusion in the Western polemic against the Eastern Creed, and Guibert was not alone in accusing the Eastern Church of Arianism as a result. what are they about to say of the Holy Spirit, who contend with a profane mind that he is less than the Father and the Son, following the remnants of the Arian heresy?53

According to Guibert this inequality of divinity in the Trinity undermines the divinity of God and he praised, certain of our countrymen, who have produced illustrious books on the procession of the Holy Spirit, prompted by this Greek contention.54

The alleged connection between the Eastern Creed and the Arian heresy allowed Guibert to list heresies which have begun in the East.55 He proudly asserted that heresy was unknown in Christendom, save perhaps in the case of Pelagianism, while the Eastern lands, Greece and beyond had attacked the Church with regularity.56 If the catalogues of all the heresies are read, if the books of the ancients written against heretics are examined, I will be amazed if, besides Africa and the East there are discerned scarcely any (heresies) from the Latin world.57

Guibert’s attacks on the “heresy” of the Easterners concluded that the onslaught of the Turks were a direct result of God’s displeasure at their lapses.

52

si enim ex filii Dei precepto in Patris et Filii et Spiritus sancti nomine baptizandum est. Guibert, Dei Gesta, 92. 53 quid de Spiritu sancto dicturi sunt qui adhuc eum secundum reliquias hereseos Arrianae minorem Patre et Filio prophana mente contendunt? Guibert, Dei Gesta, 92. 54 quidam nostrarium, hac Graecorum altercatione citati, clarissimos de sancti Spiritus processione ediderunt libros. Guibert, Dei Gesta, 92. 55 Ex Alexandria Arrius, ex Perside Manis emersit, ... Quid Eunomios, Euticetes Nestoriosque loquar, monstrorum milia texam? Guibert, Dei Gesta, 90-1. 56 Guibert, Dei Gesta, 90-1. 57 Omnium hereseon catalogi perlegantur, libri antiquorum scripti adversus hereticos recenseantur, mirabor si preter Orientem et Affricam vix aliqui sub Latino orbe cernentur. Guibert, Dei Gesta, 90-1. For the opinion that the East was the origin of all heresy, see Liutprand of Cremona, Legatio ad Imperatorem Constantinopolitanum, ed. Paolo Chiesa, CCCM, 156 (Turnholt: Brepols, 1998), 196.

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Léan Ní Chléirigh But while God places a stumbling block before those who sin voluntarily, their land vomited forth its own inhabitants, first they became deprived of true faith and deservedly, then, by all rights, they were deprived of all their earthly possessions. Since they deviate from faith in the Trinity, so that hitherto they who are in filth become filthier, gradually they have come to the final degradation of having taken paganism upon themselves as the punishment for the sin proceeding from this, they have lost the soil of their native land to invading foreigners, or if it happens that any one of them remains there the natives have subjected themselves to the payment of tribute to foreigners.58

This triumphant explanation of the devastation of the Eastern Empire by the Turks contains no less than five biblical allusions.59 Just as the central theme of Guibert’s chronicle was the benevolence of God towards his crusaders, conversely the fate of the Eastern Christians was a result of their sins. The heresy of those who “sin voluntarily” was even more obvious when we were told that Latin Christians who have settled in these areas were in fact, flourishing.60 Despite his apparent acquaintance with current debate regarding the disagreements between the Eastern and Western Churches, Guibert seemed entirely unaware of the conciliatory attitude of Urban II. Since the beginning of his pontificate in 1089, Urban had been apparently intent on healing the rift between Rome and the Eastern Patriarchates, indeed the crusade has been considered by some historians as a manifestation of his desire to reconcile the churches.61 Contemporaries of Guibert reported that one of Urban’s principal concerns at the Council of Clermont where he summoned Western leaders to the crusade, was the fate of the Eastern Christians under Turkish rule.62 Guibert was either unaware of this concern, or he chose to ignore it in the face of his opinion that the fate of the Eastern Empire was due to its own religious and political failings.

58

At quoniam offendiculum ponit deus coram his qui voluntarie peccant, terra eorum ipsos sui habitatores evomuit, dum primo fiunt a noticia verae credulitatis exortes ac merito deinde a iure omnis suae terrenae possessionis extorres. Dum enim a Trinitatis fide desciscunt ut adhuc sordescant qui in sordibus sunt, paulatim usque ad extrema suscipiendae gentilitatis detrimenta venerunt et procedente pena peccati, alienigenis irruentibus etiem solum patriae amiserunt aut, si quempiam ibidem remanere contigit, externis indigenae sese sub tributi reddibitionibus subdiderunt. Guibert, Dei Gesta, 92. 59 Ezek. 3:20; Heb. 10:26; Lev. 18:25; Apoc. 22:11; Deut. 20:11. 60 Guibert, Dei Gesta, 92. 61 Alfons Becker, Papst Urban II (1088-1099) Teil 2: Der Papst, die griecische Christenheit und der Kreuzzug (Stuttgart: A. Hiersemann, 1988), 377; August Charles Krey, “Urban’s Crusade-Success or failure,” American Historical Review 53 (1947-48): 235-50. 62 See Fulcher of Chartres, Historia Hierosolymitana (1095-1127), ed. Heinrich Hagenmeyer (Heidelberg: Carl Winter, 1913), 132-4; Robert the Monk, Historia Iherosolimitana, 727-8; Baldric of Dol, Historia Jerosolimitana, 12.

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The most consistent target of Guibert’s venom was Alexios I Komnenos, emperor of Byzantium. Although he sent envoys to the papal council of Piacenza in 1095 to ask for Western help against the Turkish advance, and he may have requested aid from Count Robert of Flanders, his daughter and apologist Anna tells us in the Alexiad that he was disturbed by the numbers of Western soldiers who arrived at his capital in 1096-7.63 No doubt the emperor had hoped to incorporate Western mercenaries into his imperial army.64 While the presence of full armies with their own leaders would have been disheartening, even more unexpected were the large amounts of “non-combatants”, whose presence Urban II had tried unsuccessfully to curb.65 When the crusade of Peter the Hermit arrived in Constantinople, Alexios advised them to remain in on the western shore of the Bosphorus until the arrival of the other crusader forces. Following the abysmal discipline of the Western Christians, however, the emperor sent them across to Asia Minor, fearing for the public order in Constantinople.66 Soon afterwards this group was decimated by the Turks.67 Each author held Alexios responsible; the Gesta Francorum reported that he was overjoyed to hear of the slaughter of the Westerners, and Guibert followed suit.68 In his attempts to reconcile the twin aims of ensuring that the crusading leaders were personally bound to return lands formerly belonging to the empire to him, and in ensuring that the armies did not remain en masse outside the walls of Constantinople, Alexios balanced precariously between munificence and might. As can be seen from his ensuring that Tancred, who had avoided taking an oath of allegiance to him in Constantinople, was forced to come to terms with him after the fall of Nicaea, it is clear that Alexios was intent on retaining legal rights to former Byzantine territories. It is in these few weeks that much of the damage to Latin-Byzantine relations appears to have been done. Both Guibert and the Anonymous reported strained relations between the emperor and the princes from here on. Wherever possible, Guibert presented the emperor as an opponent of the crusade. When the armies of the crusaders arrived in Constantinople, the Anonymous and Guibert reported continued treachery on the part of the emperor. Hugh of Vermandois was the first of the princes to reach Constantinople having been shipwrecked in the Adriatic and transported to the city by the local Byzantine 63 Anna Comnena, The Alexiad, trans. E. R. A. Sewter (London: Penguin, 2003 reprint), 308. 64 Chalandon, Essai sur le regne d’Alexis Ier Comnene, 155. 65 Urban II to the Bolognese, in Hagenmeyer, Epistulae et Chartae, 137-8. 66 Guibert, Dei Gesta, 123. 67 Ibid., 123-6. 68 Gesta Francorum, 137-40; Guibert, Dei Gesta, 128.

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official. Upon his arrival in Constantinople, he was treated well but his movements were restricted greatly.69 According to Guibert, Hugh was particularly respected by the, “Greeks, laziest of men,” as being the brother of the King of France.70 Guibert reported that the Byzantine official sent Hugh to Constantinople, where his isolation was exploited to extract an oath of allegiance to Alexios.71 This episode was presented as a desperate attempt by a frightened Alexios to ensure his own safety in the face of the arriving Latin forces and Guibert lamented that what happened to Hugh was a foretaste of the oaths which Alexios would procure from the other leaders through dishonest means. Thus the plight of this most famous man, caused a weakening of the courage of the great leaders who came after him, for the cleverness of the treacherous prince, compelled the others, either by force, or in fraud, or by imprecations, to do what he had done.72

Alexios, whom Guibert snidely commented, had previously been supposed to have sought aid against the Turks, was apparently troubled by the arrival of the princes and their armies; The perfidious Alexios, who formerly had been thought eager for help against the Turks, gnashed his teeth in the bitterness of his anger and pondered on a means to bring about the total destruction of the large army that was, as he thought, threatening to him.73

Later however, Guibert followed the anonymous author of the Gesta Francorum in attributing the origin of the oath not just to the emperor but to the elders of Constantinople, who pressured Alexios into extracting oaths from the leaders.74 69

Hans Eberhard Mayer, The Crusades, 2nd edn (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1990), 42, 45; Jean Richard, The Crusades c. 1071-c. 1291 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999), 42. 70 inertissimos hominum Grecos, Guibert, Dei Gesta, 135. 71 ut fidem timido principi daret quod per eum vitae suae et honoris prorsus indempnis existeret. Guibert, Dei Gesta, 135. 72 Is ergo illustrius viri casus maximam sequentium procerum fortitudini enervationem intulit; idem namque facere quod ab isto exigebat seu vi seu clam seu precario ceteros coegit principis fraudulenti astutia. Guibert, Dei Gesta, 135. 73 Tunc Alexis perfidus, qui olim contra Turcos auxiliorum putabatur avidus, aceritate rancoris infrenduit et qua fraude tot militias, sibi ut putabat ingruentes, turpi precipitaret exitio sepe revolvit. Guibert, Dei Gesta, 141-2. 74 Nouissime uero congregati omnes maiores natu qui Constantinopoli erant, timentes ne sua priuarentur patria, reppererunt in suis consiliis atque ingeniosis scematibus quod nostrorum duces, comites, seu omnes maiores imperatori sacramentum fideliter facere deberent. Gesta Francorum, 169-70; Denique viis confluentium cuneis Constantinopolitani

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Again describing the aftermath of the siege of Nicaea, both Guibert and his source were similarly acknowledging of Alexios’s aid in taking the city and scathing in his leniency towards the vanquished Turks, with both of the sources stating that Alexios gave the Turks favourable terms to ensure their support against the Franks at a later date.75 Guibert additionally criticised Alexios’s distribution of wealth to the leaders and alms to the poor afterwards, complaining that those who were neither wealthy nor poor had sacrificed the most in the siege and were deserving of the rewards.76 At Antioch both authors were scathing towards Tatikios, the Byzantine official who had until then journeyed with the crusaders, for deserting the crusaders at Antioch falsely promising to return. In the vocabulary used by Guibert to describe Alexios, we again see how he was “improving” his source. While the Gesta was certainly hostile to the Byzantine emperor, it confines its descriptions of him to iniquus, “unjust”; nequissimus, “most wicked”; plenus uana et iniqua, “a fool as well as a knave,” and infelix “wretched/miserable.”77 Guibert’s invective was, perhaps unsurprisingly, far wider and more intense. Alexios was miser imperator, sordidissimus ille tirannus, “this most wicked tyrant”; perfidus, “treacherous” and impius, “impious,” nequissimus “most wicked.”78 Despite being frightened of the crusading princes, he was notorious for his astutia “cleverness” and fradulentia “deceit.”79 His behaviour towards his lord, Nikephoros III Botaniates (1078-81) demonstrated the ferocia “cruelty/ferocity” of this tyrannus.80 While Guibert echoed any criticism made by the Anonymous of the emperor, on one occasion he amended his source material to reflect poorly on Alexios. When Stephen Count of Blois left the army at Antioch, he met Alexios at Philomelium. Based on the count’s reports of the hopeless circumstances of the army at Antioch, the emperor decided not to bring his forces to their aid but to consolidate the gains already made. The Anonymous laid most of the blame with Stephen, claiming that his illness was feigned and that he was a coward, over emphasising the danger facing the crusaders in his report to Alexios. Guibert,

turbantur consiliumque quesituri glomerantur. Dum enim timent ne civitas supervenientium numerositate prematur et eorum provinciae depopulationi tradantur, id consilii habiti eventilatione repperiunt, quatinus acramentum exigat tirannus a Francis, quod numquam sint sibi nocituri vel suis. Guibert, Dei Gesta, 142. 75 Gesta Francorum, 190-2; Guibert, Dei Gesta, 151-2. 76 Guibert, Dei Gesta, 153. 77 Gesta Francorum, 142, 144, 171, 191. 78 Guibert, Dei Gesta, 93, 104, 128, 129, 130, 141, 142, 143, 144, 152, 153, 182. 79 Ibid., 130, 135. 80 Ibid., 105.

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however defended the count, emphasising that he was in fact ill, “if indeed it could be called a ‘flight’ for he was certainly able to offer sickness as an excuse.”81 Guibert excused his retreat at the sight of the Turks as understandable in the circumstances. Aware of Stephen’s later martyrdom, which he may have felt negated his sins, Guibert claimed that the count’s flight was preferable to the actions of those people who retained an outward semblance of piety by remaining with the crusade, but whose subsequent behaviour on the campaign was lamentable. Guibert instead laid the blame at Alexios’s feet. Alexios, he stated, had come to seize Antioch on hearing of its capture.82 It was the Byzantine emperor who, delighted with Stephen’s news of the demise of the Latins, exaggerated reports and announced to his followers that there was little or no hope for the crusade and that they should turn back.83 Finally, Alexios, we are told, was pleased, “because those whom he hated no less than the Turks had perished.”84 As we have seen, Alexios Komnenos was singled out by Guibert as a particular target for his polemic. At Nicaea, he offered the defeated Turks favourable terms, as far as Guibert was concerned, in order to maintain allies against the Franks at a later date. In fact, not only are we told that Alexios was planning to oppose the crusaders at a later date, he even greeted news of their tribulations with joy, both in the case of the destruction of the followers of Peter the Hermit and the plight of the army at Antioch. In his description of the ill-fated Crusade of 1101, Guibert even accused Alexios of directly betraying the crusaders to the Turks. In his description of the arrival of William of Poitou to Constantinople Guibert says, When his renown had been established everywhere, he came to Constantinople and held a conference with the tyrant Alexios, the most abominable of men. This wretched traitor informed the Turks by letters of his arrival, before the count had left the royal city. “Lo,” he said, “the fattest sheep from France are moving in your direction, led by a foolish shepherd.” What more can I say? The count went beyond the borders of the tyrannical prince, suddenly before him stood an army of Turks, who scattered, preyed upon and conquered the disorganised foreigners.85 81

si tamen “fugĮ” dici debuit ubi certa, ut dicitur egritudo pretendi potuit, Guibert, Dei Gesta, 228. 82 Guibert, Dei Gesta, 229. 83 Ibid., 229-30. 84 quia perisse audierat quos non minori quam Turcos invidentia execrebatur, Guibert, Dei Gesta, 230. 85 Qui, cum maiestatis suae passim personaret testis ambitio, Constantinopolim venit, cum perfidissimo hominum Alexi tiranno colloquium habuit. Cuius proditor ille nequissimus adventum, antequam regia comes isdem digrederetur ab urbe, Turcis per epistolas detulit: “Ecce,” inquit, “ e Franciis pinguissimae ad vos progredientur oves, quae minus provido tamen pastore reguntur.” Quid plura? omes tirannici principis fines excesserat, Turcorum

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The term tirannus or tyrant was repeatedly invoked in reference to Alexios, and in the invective against him, the criteria for a tyrant can be seen clearly. Alexios was not emperor by hereditary succession, “this emperor had received the purple not by legitimate succession.”86 He had usurped the throne in a rebellion against the Emperor Nikephoros III Botaniates.87 When the Latin princes arrived in Constantinople, the people of the city feared for its security and demanded that Alexios procure an oath from the crusaders. This demonstrated the populist nature of Alexios’s tyranny. We are told that by a well known edict, Alexios had decreed that families with multiple daughters were commanded to give one of the girls over to prostitution.88 We were told that another edict commanded that families with several sons were to have one of them castrated.89 In his policy of enforced prostitution and the eunuchisation of young men, the degeneracy of his rule and how his personal vices had led to the political difficulties in which he was immersed, was demonstrated.90 Just as the heresies of the church had invited pagan rule over the Eastern Christians, Alexios had ensured that his armies were impotent to defend the empire and thus he was forced to call for outside aid, “therefore he who had brought destruction upon himself was now compelled to seek help from foreigners.”91 It was Alexios’s mismanagement of his own empire which led to its inability to defend itself.92 Alexios, “compelled by necessity,” had called for aid from the West but when it came he was struck envious by the strength and wisdom of the crusade leaders.93 At one instance, Guibert turned aside to note that Alexios was much afraid of Godfrey and treated him respectfully more from fear than any affection.94 His envy was all the greater after the capture of Jerusalem in 1099 and he feared that they would attack him, as their greatest rival in the area.95 In Guibert’s report of Alexios’s attempts to entice Robert of Flanders to provide him with troops for the defence of his empire in 1081, the emperor was ei exercitus repente obvius astat, vires hominis adventicias incompositasque debilitans dispergit, predatur et superat. Guibert, Dei Gesta, 313. 86 ipse imperator non ex legitima purpuram successione susceperit. Guibert, Dei Gesta, 105. 87 Guibert, Dei Gesta, 105. See also n. 105. 88 edicto celebri, Guibert, Dei Gesta, 104. 89 Guibert, Dei Gesta, 104. 90 Ibid., 93, 104. 91 Qui ergo dampnaverit ultro sua, iam querere merito cogitur aliena. Guibert, Dei Gesta, 105. 92 Guibert, Dei Gesta, 105. 93 necessitate compulsus expetiit, Guibert, Dei Gesta, 105. 94 At perfidus imperator, territus audito clarissimi ducis adventu, detulit ei reverentiam sed nimis extortitiam. Guibert, Dei Gesta, 129-30. 95 Guibert, Dei Gesta, 105.

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presented as a man who had little understanding of the “honesty of good men,” offering the crusaders women and riches for their exertions.96 Guibert depicted a man completely unable to fathom the high motives of the crusaders, assuming that the offer of material goods was preferable to the true motive of the crusade, the defence of the Holy Land and the prospect of salvation. Guibert objected, in a characteristic outburst of patriotism, that the women of Gaul should be overlooked for Greek women and that the crusaders, whom he continually compared with monks, should travel such a great distance merely for them. as though the beauty of Greek women were so great that they would be preferred to the women of Gaul, and for this reason alone, the Frankish army would march to Thrace.97

If Alexios had such reverence for Greek women, Guibert questioned why the emperor insisted that large families place one of their daughters in prostitution, some of the proceeds of which would go to his own treasury.98 Although not alone in his antagonism towards the Byzantines and their emperor, Guibert of Nogent’s invective was one of the most wide-ranging and comprehensive found in the sources for the First Crusade.99 In his attacks on the Eastern Church as a fount of heresy he was well versed in the arguments used by church reformers in their disputes with Constantinople. Similarly he was well informed about the recent rise to power of Alexios and used his illegitimacy to mount an assault on this “tyrant.” Alexios, despite his initial enthusiasm in Piacenza, was portrayed as a consistent opponent of the crusade, to the extent that he consorted with the Turks against the Latins. The combination of his tyranny and the religious failings of the Byzantines had incurred the Turkish invasions as an instrument of divine justice. It is at this point that Guibert departed from the apparent papal concern for the Eastern Christians which other commentators report. The range of Guibert’s anti-Byzantine polemic is impressive. Quite apart from attacking the Greeks specifically, his criticism of the Eastern Christians focused on issues recently in dispute between Rome and Constantinople. The losses suffered by the Eastern Empire, were according to Guibert, a direct result of their heretical practices. The Eastern Emperor Alexios was accused of tyranny and of attempts to 96 bonorum virorum frugalitati. Guibert, Dei Gesta, 104. See above n. 8 for the letter from Alexios to Robert. 97 ut Gallicis modo quolibet prefferentur solaque earum causa Francorum exercitus in Trachiam ageretur. Guibert, Dei Gesta, 104. 98 This practise is referred to by Guibert twice. Guibert, Dei Gesta, 93, 104. 99 John France, Victory in the East (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996), Appendix “A Note on the Sources,” 374-5.

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disrupt the crusade, even being happy at the slaughter of Christians at the hands of Pagans, as Guibert described the Turks. Far from his polemic being inherited from his sources, Guibert reserved some of the choicer aspects of his vocabulary and impressive classical knowledge for a denunciation of the Eastern Empire and her people, attacks which do not appear in the Gesta Francorum. Even his grudging compliments to the Turks and their warmanship were more generous than his contemptuous reference to the, “Greeks, laziest of all men.”100

Bibliography Primary Sources Annalles Ordinis S. Benedicti. Edited by Jean Mabillon, 6 vols. Lucca, 1739-45. Anonymi Gesta Francorum et Aliorum Hierosolimitanorum. Edited by Heinrich Hagenmeyer. Heidelberg: Carl Winter, 1890. Baldric of Dol. Historia Jerosolimitana. RHC Occ., 4, 1-111. Paris: Imprimerie Impériale, 1868. Epistolae et Chartae ad historiam primi belli sacri spectantes. Edited by Heinrich Hagenmeyer. Hildesheim: Carl Winters, 1973 reprint. Gesta Francorum et Aliorum Hierosolimitanorum. Edited and translated by Rosalind Hill. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1962. Guibert of Nogent. Dei Gesta per Francos. Edited by Robert Burchard Constantijn Huygens. Corpus Christianorum Continuatio Mediaevalis, 127 A. Turnhout: Brepols, 1996. Guibert of Nogent. Monodiae. Edited by Edmond-René Labande. Paris: Belles Lettres, 1981. Guibert of Nogent. Self and Society in Medieval France: The Memoirs of Abbot Guibert of Nogent (1064-c. 1125). Translated by John Benton. New York: Harper and Row, 1970. Guibert of Nogent. The Deeds of God through the Franks: A Translation of Guibert de Nogent’s Gesta Dei per Francos. Translated by Robert Levine. Woodbridge: Boydell 1997. Histoire anonyme de la Première Croisade. Edited by Louis Bréhier. Paris: Librairie Ancienne Honore Champion, 1924. Humbert of Silva Candida. Humbertus Silvae Candidae Adversus Graecorum Calmumnias. Patrologia Latina 143:929-74.

100

See n. 32.

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Humbert of Silva Candida. Incipit responsio sive contradicto in eumdem libellum a fratre Humberto Episcopo Silvae Candidae. Patrologia Latina 143:9831000. Isidore of Seville. Epistola VII, Isidori Redempto Archidiacono, Patrologia Latina 83:905. Isidore of Seville. Etymologiarum sive Originum, Libri XX, Tomus I, Libros I-X Continens. Edited by Wallace Martin Lindsay. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1985 reprint. Pseudo-Udalrici Epistola de Continentia Clericorum. In Monumenta Germaniae Historica Libelli de Lite Imperatorum et Pontificum, 1, 254-60. Robert the Monk. Historia Iherosolimitana. RHC Occ., 3, 717-882. Paris: Imprimerie Impériale, 1866.

Secondary Literature Archambaud, Paul. A Monk’s Confession: The Memoirs of Guibert of Nogent. Philadelphia: Pennsylvania University Press, 1995. Barstow, Anne Llewellyn. Married Priests and the Reform Papacy: The EleventhCentury Debates. Toronto: E. Mellen, 1982. Becker, Alfons. Papst Urban II (1088-1099) Teil 2: Der Papst, die griecische Christenheit und der Kreuzzug. Stuttgart: Anton Hiersemann, 1988. Benton, John. “The Personality of Guibert de Nogent.” Psychoanalytical Review 57, 4 (1970): 563-86. Carrier, Marc. “Pour en finir avec les Gesta Francorum: une réflexion historiographique sur l’état des rapports entre Grecs et Latins au début du XIIe siècle et sur l’apport nouveau d’Albert d’Aix.” Crusades 7 (2008): 13-34. Chalandon, Ferdinand. Essai sur le regne d’Alexis Ier Comnene I: Les Comnene. Paris: Ecoles des Chartes, 1900. Charaud, Jacques. “La conception de l’histoire de Guibert de Nogent.” Cahiers de Civilisation Médiévale 8 (1965): 381-95. France, John “The Anonymous Gesta Francorum and the Historia Francorum qui ceperunt Iherusalem of Raymond of Aguilers and the Historia de Hierosolymitano Itinere of Peter Tudebode.” In The Crusades and Their Sources: Essays Presented to Bernard Hamilton, edited by John France and William G. Zajac, 39-69. Aldershot: Ashgate 1998. France, John. “The Use of the Anonymous Gesta Francorum in the Early TwelfthCentury Sources for the First Crusade”. In From Clermont to Jerusalem: The Crusades and Crusader Societies, 1095-1500, edited by Alan V. Murray, 2942. Turnhout: Brepols, 1998. France, John. Victory in the East. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996.

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Hagnemeyer, Heinrich. Introduction to Anonymi Gesta Francorum et Aliorum Hierosolymitanorum, 49-92. Heidelberg: Carl Winter, 1890. Hill, Rosalind. Introduction to The Deeds of the Franks and Other Pilgrims to Jerusalem, ix-xlii. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1967. Hodgson, Natasha. Women, Crusading and the Holy Land in the Historical Narrative. Woodbridge: Boydell, 2007. Huygens, Robert Burchard Constantijn. Introduction to Dei Gesta per Francos, by Guibert of Nogent. Corpus Christianorum Continuatio Mediaevalis, 127 A. Turnhout: Brepols, 1996. Joransen, Einar. “The Problem of the Spurious Letter of Emperor Alexius to the Count of Flanders.” American Historical Review 55 (1949-50): 811-32. Kostick, Conor. “A Further Discussion on the Authorship of the Gesta Francorum.” Reading Medieval Studies 35 (2009), forthcoming. Kostick, Conor. “The Language of ordo in the Early Histories of the First Crusade.” PhD diss., Trinity College Dublin, 2006. Kostick, Conor. The Social Structure of the First Crusade. Leiden: Brill, 2008. Krey, August Charles. “A Neglected Passage in the Gesta and its Bearing on the Literature of the First Crusade.” In The Crusades and Other Historical Essays, edited by Louis Paetow, 57-78. New York: F.S. Crofts, 1928. Krey, August Charles. “Urban’s Crusade: Success or Failure.” American Historical Review 53 (1948): 235-50. Levine, Robert. Introduction to The Deeds of God through the Franks: A Translation of Guibert de Nogent’s Gesta Dei per Francos, 1-17. Woodbridge: Boydell, 1997. Mayer, Hans Eberhard. The Crusades, 2nd edn. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1990. Morris, Colin. “Policy and Visions–The Case of the Holy Lance at Antioch.” In War and Government in the Middle Ages, edited by John Gillingham and James Clark Holt, 34-45. Woodbridge: Barnes and Noble, 1984. Morris, Colin. “The Gesta Francorum as Narrative History.” Reading Medieval Studies 19 (1993): 55-71. Munro, Dana Carleton. “The Speech of Pope Urban II at Clermont 1095.” American Historical Review 11 (1905): 230-42. Riley-Smith, Jonathan. The First Crusade and the Idea of Crusading. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1991. Rowe, John Gordon. “Paschal II, Bohemond of Antioch and the Byzantine Empire.” Bulletin of John Rylands Library 49 (1966-7): 165-202. Rubenstein, Jay. Guibert of Nogent: Portrait of a Medieval Mind. London: Routledge, 2002. Rubenstein, Jay. “What was the Gesta Francorum and who was Peter Tudebode?” Revue Mabillon 16 (2005): 55-71.

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Runciman, Steven. The Eastern Schism. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1971.

Part II: Theology

ANIANUS CELEDENSIS TRANSLATOR OF JOHN CHRYSOSTOM’S HOMILIES ON MATTHEW: A PELAGIAN INTERPRETATION?∗ EMILIO BONFIGLIO I. Introduction All research concerning Anianus Celedensis is faced with a twofold problem: the scarcity of the sources dealing with Anianus’s life, doctrine and literary activity, and the lack of critical editions of his works. During the last fifty years scholars have grappled with the few sources dealing with Anianus in an attempt to reconstruct his historical and doctrinal context. Although the secondary sources have often been interpreted in such a way as to see Anianus as a follower of Pelagian doctrines, and although it has been demonstrated that Anianus presents himself as a follower of Pelagian ideas, little attention has been drawn to whether these claims of Pelagianism have influenced the way in which Anianus rendered John Chrysostom into Latin. This paper will investigate the translation technique of Anianus in order to ascertain the presence of interpolations in rendering the original Greek. There is no intention to draw conclusions on the doctrinal ideas of Anianus. The aim of the paper is to present an overview of the translation procedure followed by Anianus

∗

In the redaction of this paper I have benefited from the help and support of many people to whom I wish to express my gratitude. First I am most grateful to the editor who very kindly granted me extra time during the final stage of the paper. I am greatly indebted to Prof. Giorgio Di Maria for supervising my earlier researches on the subject, and to Prof. Theo M. van Lint for constant support and encouragement during my first year at Oxford. Thanks are also due to Mr. John M. Eekelaar (Pembroke College, Oxford) and to the Centre for Medieval and Renaissance Studies (Trinity College Dublin) for generous financial help. Finally, special thanks to Dr Barbara Crostini, Miss Charlotte A. Pattullo, Messrs. Christoph D. Ostendorf and Nigel G. Wilson for their constructive comments on the manuscript.

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in order to discern whether a given textual choice of the translator is guided by rhetorical principles or masks doctrinal intentions. The conclusions of this study are not to be considered definitive. Satisfactory treatment of the question will be possible only when critical editions of the original Greek and of its Latin translation are available. In order to outline the features of Anianus’s translation, a brief overview of Anianus’s historical and doctrinal background is presented first. Secondly, a provisional edition of one of the In Matthaeum homiliae is offered. Finally, the main characteristics of Anianus’s translation are outlined.

II. The Historical and Doctrinal Context Scholars have tried to reconstruct Anianus’s historical and doctrinal background by using the scarce secondary sources and some data obtained from Anianus’s own works. Jerome is the only source reporting the name of Anianus and throwing light on his ecclesiastical rank and provenance: Aniani, pseudodiaconi Celedensis.1 Jerome’s contempt is manifested by the designation “pseudo-deacon” and by minimising the value of Anianus’s work: nec grande est ineptissimis naeniis respondere.2 Anianus had apparently written some “books” (libros) in reaction to one of Jerome’s letters and in order to support Pelagian principles.3 These libri were considered lost, when in 1988 F. Schlatter suggested that one can identify them with the pseudo-Chrysostomian Opus imperfectum in Matthaeum.4 More recently, however, Schlatter’s suggestion has been convincingly confuted by Kate Cooper.5 The only other source is Orosius. In his Liber apologeticus an allusion is made to two characters mentioned as Goliath and armigerum suum.6 Some scholars have wanted to identify Goliath with Pelagius and armigerus with Anianus, thereby considering the latter one of the dictatores (i.e. scribes) of Pelagius.7 1 Hieronymus Presbyter, Epistula CXLIII, ed. Jerome Labourt, vol. 8 (Paris: Les Belles lettres, 1963), 98. 2 Ibid., 99. 3 I.e. Jerome’s Epistula 133. 4 Fredric W. Schlatter, “The Author of the Opus imperfectum in Matthaeum,” Vigiliae Christianae 42 (1988): 364-75. 5 Kate Cooper, “An(n)ianus of Celeda and the Latin Readers of John Chrysostom,” Studia Patristica 27 (1993): 249-55. 6 Paulus Orosius, Liber apologeticus contra pelagianos, Patrologia Latina 31:1176, 1193. 7 Cf., for example, Gustave Bardy, “Grecs et Latins dans les premières controverses pélagiennes,” Bulletin de Littérature Ecclésiastique 49 (1948): 13. The suggestion that

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As to Anianus’s origin, scholars have suggested different solutions to pinpoint the toponym Celedensis.8 Unfortunately, we cannot know whether any suitable place suggested actually refers to Anianus’s hometown, or the place where he was deacon, or the city in which he was ordained. To date, Anianus’s literary activity is restricted to the translation of two homiletic series of John Chrysostom: a) the In Matthaeum homiliae 1-90;9 b) the De laudibus sancti Pauli apostoli homiliae 1-7.10 These translations constitute the only works of Anianus considered genuine by all scholars.11 A prefatory letter precedes both translations. These Praefationes represent Anianus’s only extant original works and add new data to the information gathered from the secondary sources.12 First they inform us that Anianus’s mother tongue was Latin and that his translations had been requested by and dedicated to, respectively, a) Orontius and b) Evangelius.13 Secondly, the Prefaces clarify the reasons for translating Chrysostom: Anianus rails at Augustine’s followers for the doctrine of grace and claims Chrysostom as being in full agreement with the

Anianus might have been one of Pelagius’s scribes is in Jean Garnier, Dissertatio prima de primis auctoribus et praecipuis defensoribus haeresis quae a Pelagio nomen accepit, Patrologia Latina 48:303-4. 8 On this subject, the best overview is in Ernest Honigmann, “Annianus, deacon of Celeda (415 A.D.),” Patristic Studies, Studi e testi 173 (Città del Vaticano: Biblioteca Apostolica vaticana, 1953), 54-8. 9 Iohannes Chrysostomus, Homiliae in Matthaeum, ed. Frederick Field, 3 vols (Cambridge, 1839). 10 Iohannes Chrysostomus, De laudibus S. Pauli apostoli homiliae, ed. Auguste Piédagnel, Sources Chretiennes 300 (Paris: Les Editions du Cerf, 1982). 11 For a list of the Chrysostomian translations ascribed to Anianus, cf. Flavio G. Nuvolone, “Anianus de Cele(n)da,” in Dictionnaire de Spiritualité 12 (Paris: Editions Beauchesne, 1986), 2908-12. A polemic against an “Anianian” paternity of most of the translations is in Sever J. Voicu, “Le prime traduzioni latine di Crisostomo,” Studia Ephemeridis «Augustinianum» 42 (Roma: Institutum Patristicum Augustinianum, 1994), 406-7. 12 Respectively: Anianus Celedensis, Praefatio ad Orontium homiliis in Matthaeum praefixa. For a modern edition of the first part of this text, see Anianus Celedensis, “Die Originalfassung von Anianus’s epistula ad Orontium,” ed. Adolf Primmer, in Antidosis, Festschrift für Walter Kraus, eds Rudolf Hanslik et al. (Vienna: Böhlaus, 1972), 278-89; however, the full text is only in Patrologia Graeca 58:975-8. Anianus Celedensis, Praefatio ad Evangelium homiliis de laudibus S. Pauli praefixa, Patrologia Graeca 50:471*-2*. 13 Cf. Anianus, “Die Originalfassung von Anianus’s epistula ad Orontium,” 279; and Anianus, ad Evangelium, 471*. Of the two characters, only Orontius can be considered a true Pelagian. In fact, he was among the group of Italian bishops who, in 418, refused to sign Zosimus’s Epistula tractoria, with which Pelagian theses were condemned.

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(Pelagian) doctrine of free will; the latter can be clearly found in the works of Chrysostom.14 Scholars have traditionally dated the De Laudibus Pauli to 418/419 and the In Matthaeum to 419/420 on the grounds of Anianus’s allusions to the conditions of Pelagius’s followers while he was attending to his translations.15 In 1972, however, A. Primmer revised the accepted dating by establishing 421 as terminus post quem for the De Laudibus Pauli and by suggesting 419/420 for the In Matthaeum. The reason for the change of dating was suggested by the use of an epithet to refer to Augustine, traducianus, which Anianus repeatedly employed in the two Prefaces, but with different meanings.16 From the point of view of the doctrine, Anianus’s activity has to be understood in the context of the Pelagian struggles, which afflicted the Church of the fifth century. During the years of the Pelagian controversy Anianus seems to have played a role in 415, when two assemblies were called in Palestine in order to take measures against Pelagius’s activity: the synods of Diospolis and Jerusalem.17 Anianus’s doctrinal position is not easy to determine. In his Prefaces Anianus considers Chrysostom a supporter of free will, i.e. one of the pillars of Pelagian doctrine. According to Anianus, Chrysostom would agree with the Pelagians on the possibility for mankind to redeem itself only by means of its free will, dissociating thus from the point of view of Augustine, for whom God’s grace is indispensable for salvation.18 Some scholars think Anianus’s doctrinal understanding of both Pelagius and Augustine’s thought is weak, in spite of his Pelagian claims. Analysing the Prefaces, H. Musurillo portrays Anianus as a believer in the cooperation of the human free will with the divine grace, though generally Anianus’s theological opinion remains unclear.19 On the other hand, R. Skalitzky speculates whether Anianus’s doctrine could be defined better as semi-Pelagian, rather than Pelagian, 14

Cf. Anianus, “Die Originalfassung von Anianus’s epistula ad Orontium”; and Anianus, ad Evangelium. 15 Cf. Chrysostomus Baur, “L’entrée littéraire de saint Chrysostome dans le monde latin,” Revue d’Histoire ecclésiastique 8 (1907): 256-7; and Bardy, “Grecs et Latins,” 14. 16 The entire discussion is in Anianus, “Die Originalfassung von Anianus’s epistula ad Orontium,” 283-5. 17 Anianus’s presence at the synods of Diospolis and Jerusalem is deduced from an allusion of Jerome: quicquid enim in miserabili illa Synodo Diospolitana dixisse se denegat. Cf. Hieronymus, Epistula CXLIII, 99. 18 Cf. Anianus, “Die Originalfassung von Anianus’s epistula ad Orontium”; and Anianus, ad Evangelium. 19 Herbert Musurillo, “John Chrysostom’s homilies on Matthew and the version of Annianus,” in Kyriakon: Festschrift Johannes Quasten, eds Patrick Granfield and Josef A. Jungmann, vol. 1 (Münster: Aschendorff, 1970), 452-4.

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given that for salvation Anianus assigns importance to free will but does not deny the help of God’s grace.20 In 1972 Primmer provided a provisional critical edition of Anianus’s Preface to the Homilies on Matthew and showed that the text printed in Patrologia Graeca represents a diminished pro-Catholic version of a more extensive and audacious original.21 Despite all speculation of previous scholars concerning the doctrinal uncertainty of Anianus, the original Preface confirms some of the standard Pelagian ideas: man is good by nature and has no sin at his birth; man can avoid sins by means of his free will, whose power cannot be suppressed by God’s grace. These points contradict Augustine’s doctrine and confirm Anianus as a conscious upholder of Pelagian ideas, rather than an innocuous translator.22

III. Anianus’s Version of the Ninth Homily In a passage of the In Matthaeum Preface, Anianus states that he was asked to translate the ninety homilies of which Chrysostom’s “commentary” is composed.23 To date, however, no manuscript has been found which preserves more than the first 25 homilies. In the Patrologia Graeca Migne printed only the Preface and the first eight homilies.24 Homilies 15-18 have been the object of Skalitzky’s PhD dissertation;25 homilies 9-14, 19-25 can be read only in printed editions of the sixteenth century.26 As a matter of fact, no edition has yet taken into consideration the complete homiletic corpus, or the entire manuscript tradition of Anianus’s translation. In order to investigate Anianus’s translation technique, attention is drawn to the ninth homily alone. This homily is in fact explicitly cited by Anianus in a passage of the Preface, where it is stated that Chrysostom’s works, but especially the ninth 20 Rachel Skalitzky, “Annianus of Celeda: His Text of Chrysostom’s «Homilies on Matthew»,” Aevum 45 (1971): 211-14. 21 Anianus, “Die Originalfassung von Anianus’s epistula ad Orontium,” 278. 22 Cf., for instance, Voicu, “Le prime traduzioni,” 400. 23 Iubes enim beatissime, ut commentarium sancti Iohannis Constantinopolitani episcopi, quem in Matthaeo euangelista nonaginta libris explicuit, in Latinam linguam quo possim sermone transfundam, Anianus, “Die Originalfassung von Anianus’s epistula ad Orontium,” 279. 24 Patrologia Graeca 58:975-1058. 25 Skalitzky’s thesis, “A Critical Edition of Annianus’s Latin Version of John Chrysostom’s Homilies (15-18) on Matthew V”, was defended at Fordham University in 1968. To my knowledge this thesis is unpublished. 26 For a list of which, cf. Chrysostomus Baur, S. Jean Chrysostome et ses œuvres dans l’histoire littéraire (Louvain: Bureaux du recueil/Paris: Albert Fontemoing, 1907).

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book (i.e. homily) of the In Matthaeum, assert that children are without sin at the moment they are born.27 Because of the potential doctrinal interest of the ninth homily, a provisional edition of its text is provided below (see Appendix, pp. 83-96) and a brief analysis of Anianus’s interpretation follows, based on samples of this text. Anianus’s text is represented by 38 manuscripts and by some humanistic printed editions of sixtenth century.28 The editio princeps appeared in Venice in 1503.29 The text of the ninth homily has provisionally been established on the basis of four manuscripts, which have been collated against the text of an anonymous Parisian edition of 1536 (siglum k).30 The latter often presents a misleading text: every time that Anianus’s version seemed to be significantly different from the Greek original, the editor changed the Latin text to force closer correspondences to its original.31 The four manuscripts have been chosen following Skalitzky’s study of part of Anianus’s manuscript tradition. In the edition of the seventeenth homily, Skalitzky used the 10 most ancient manuscripts of the 24 that were known to her. Skalitzky divided the 10 manuscripts into three families, provided a stemma codicum and claimed that all the witnesses were derived from a seventh or eighth century archetype.32 Mss used by Skalitzky C M A B P T

Cambrai, B. Mun. 385 Berlin, Staatsb. Theol. Lat. F 587  Charleville-Méz., B. Mun. 176  Charleville-Méz., B. Mun. 252  Paris, BnF, Lat. 1774 Troyes, B. Mun. 38

Mss known to Skalitzky IX XIin

Como, Sem. Maggiore 7 Paris, B. Mazarine 580

XII XIII

XII

Valencia, B. Univ. 1221

XII

Vaticano, BAV, Vat. Lat. 386 Orléans, B. Mun. 152 Bruxelles, B. Roy. A. Ier

XIIIXIV XIV

XII XII

XIV XV

27 Parvulos vero quam in interitum manichaei dogmatis absque ullo nasci peccato adserat, cum alia eius opera tum etiam nonus istius commentarii liber ostendit, Anianus, “Die Originalfassung von Anianus’s epistula ad Orontium,” 281. 28 Cf. n. 25. 29 It was edited by B. Brixius at the press of Gregorius de Gregoriis. 30 Printed at Claude Chevallon’s press. 31 Skalitzky arguably wrote that P is the manuscript on which the text of the 1536 Parisian edition was “often based.” Cf. Skalitzky, “Annianus of Celeda,” 220. 32 The stemma is printed in Skalitzky, “Annianus of Celeda,” 220. Primmer disagrees with Skalitzky’s conclusions and argues for a more complex picture: cf. Anianus, “Die Originalfassung von Anianus’s epistula ad Orontium,” 285-9.

Anianus Celedensis Translator of John Chrysostom: A Pelagian Interpretation?

V

E

Vaticano, BAV, Reg. Lat. 97 Paris, BnF, Lat. 1775  Paris, BnF, Lat. 1776

XIIXIII XIII

F

Paris, BnF, Lat. 1779

XIII

D

XII



Mss added by Primmer Q Paris, BnF, Lat. 14468 Ce Cesena, B. Malat. D V 5

XII XV

608-609 Vaticano, BAV, Urb. Lat. 35 Vaticano, BAV, Vat. Lat. 385 Vaticano, BAV, Vat. Lat. 387 Firenze, B. Med. Laur., plut. 14 dext. I  Firenze, B. Med. Laur., Fiesole 39 London, BL, add. 14795 London, BL, Egerton 875 München, Bayer. Staatsb., Lat. 5398

83

XV 1450 ca. XV 1460 ca. 1462/ 63 XV XV XV

New manuscripts Paris, BnF, Lat. 17364

XII

Madrid, R.B. II/379

XV

Luxembourg, BnL 115

XIIXIII XIII XIV -XV XV

Padova, B. Cap. D 46

XV

Paris, BnF, Lat. 2652 Paris, BnF, Lat. 17365

XVex 1473

Paris, BnF, Lat. 8909

XVex

XV

Wells, Cath. L. s.n.

XVI

Paris, BnF, Lat. 15642 Paris, BnF, Lat. 1780 Basel, Öffentl. B. d. Uni. A VI 2  Madrid, BNE 10266

Table 4-1 Following Skalitzky’s stemma, the text of the ninth homily has been based on the manuscripts C M B T. These cover all the three families and, in the stemma, represent the higher level of each family. In important passages, the text of Q has also been checked, being the manuscript in which Primmer found the original version of the Preface.33 Families of Skalitzky’s stemma Family Į T V 33

Troyes, B. Mun. 38 Vaticano, BAV, Reg. Lat. 97

XIIex XIIex

Notwithstanding its promising Preface, at a doctrinarian level the collation of Q did not reveal any relevant different readings from the text of the other manuscripts.

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Paris, BnF, Lat. 1775

XIIex-XIII

Family ȕ A B F

Charleville-Mézières, B. Mun. 176 Charleville-Mézières, B. Mun. 252 Paris, BnF, Lat. 1779

XII XII XIII

Cambrai, B. Mun. 385 Berlin, Staatsbib., Theol. Lat. F 587 Paris, BnF, Lat. 1774 Paris, BnF, Lat. 1776

IX X1 XII XIII

Family Ȗ C M P E

Table 4-2

IV. The Edition of the Ninth Homily The constitution of the text conforms to the following criteria: i) whenever two readings are both acceptable, the textus receptus of the manuscripts has been preferred to k; ii) the orthography of personal names (and of many common nouns) has been normalised according to the rules of classical orthography; iii) the biblical quotations have been provisionally normalised according to the text of the Vulgata;34 iv) the sigla in the apparatus appear in the following order: C M B T k (g); v) (g) is quoted primarily when a given reading printed in the text contrasts with another coinciding with the text of the Greek original; vi) the sigla used to refer to Biblical books conform to those used in the twentyseventh edition of Nestle-Aland’s Greek New Testament. Conspectus siglorum C M B T

Cambrai, B. Mun. 385, saec. IX. Berlin, Staatsb. Theol. Lat. F 587, saec. XIin. Charlevilles-Mézières, B. Mun. 252, saec. XII. Troyes, B. Mun. 38, saec. XIIex.

34 Rober Weber et al., Biblia sacra iuxta vulgatam versionem, 5th edn (Stuttgart: Deutsche Bibelgesellschaft, 2007).

Anianus Celedensis Translator of John Chrysostom: A Pelagian Interpretation?

k (g)

textus receptus editionis Parisinae, 1536. F. Field, Homiliae in Matthaeum, ut in textu Migneio citatus, Patrologia Graeca 57:89-98.

add. codd. om. praem. transp.

addidit omnes codices omisit praemisit transposuit

85

V. An Analysis of Anianus’s Translation Before attempting an analysis of Anianus’s translation technique, the limits of this investigation have to be addressed. First, the original Greek text of the In Matthaeum. The edition printed by Field in 1839 takes into account only 13 of the 190 existing manuscripts (about 7%).35 Since the Greek edition represents only a small part of the tradition, every time significant variations appear in the Latin version, it should be asked whether these represent a translation choice of Anianus, or reflect a different Greek text, which could belong to an undetected branch of the Greek tradition. Second, the provisional character of this investigation must be stressed. Lacking a critical edition of the entire translation of the In Matthaeum, satisfactory treatment of Anianus’s style and translation technique can only be of general value. Any result achieved here is therefore provisional and can be confirmed only when larger portions of text are available. In general Anianus’s translation closely adheres to the Greek original. Fidelity, however, does not necessarily imply a translation verbum de verbo. Indeed Anianus often makes small changes, which affect at times the style, at times the semantic structure of the text. In fact, Anianus’s aim seems to be the improvement of Chrysostom’s text. The translator takes small liberties in order to expound and to explain the Greek text, every time this appears to be not sufficiently explicit. For instance, if John Chrysostom alludes to a biblical character without deeming it necessary to name him/her, Anianus, on the other hand, makes the name explicit. When, e.g. Erodes’s behaviour is compared to that of one of the Egyptian pharaohs, ΗΙ··ΉΑξΖȱ ΈΕκΐ΅ȱ ΘЗΑȱ πΑȱ ̄Ϣ·ϾΔΘУȱ ·ΉΑΓΐνΑΝΑȱ ΘϱΘΉȱ πΑȱ

35

All dating between eleventh and thirteenth century. Cf. Patrologia Graeca 57:5-7.

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̓΅Ώ΅΍ΗΘϟΑϙȱΘΓΏΐЗΑǰ36ȱAnianus translates in this way tale quiddam in Palaestina facere aggressus, quale Pharao in Aegypto perpetrarat.37 The tendency to add proper names and subjects every time the original leaves them out could be explained by considering the oral reception of the original Greek, when the audience might well have been aware of whom the preacher was referring to. On the contrary, since Anianus’s translation was intended to be read, the deictic features which were implicit in the oral delivery of the homily were lost, and the reader was left in need of greater clarifications. Alongside these small interventions, the translation presents interpolations, which sometimes affect the meaning at a deeper level. For instance, whilst Chrysostom preaches “when the soul is inconsiderate and incurable, it does not give way to any of the remedies provided by God,”38 i.e. ͣΘ΅Αȱ·ΤΕȱΦ·ΑЏΐΝΑȱϖȱ ΜΙΛφȱ Ύ΅Ϡȱ ΦΑϟ΅ΘΓΖǰȱ ΓЁΈΉΑϠȱ ΉϥΎΉ΍ȱ ΘЗΑȱ Δ΅ΕΤȱ ΘΓІȱ ̋ΉΓІȱ ΈΉΈΓΐνΑΝΑȱ Κ΅ΕΐΣΎΝΑǰ39 Anianus reckons it worthwhile to explain why the soul is Φ·ȞȫȝȦȞ and what is its condition: sed coerceri omnino nequit animus prava semel voluntate vitiatus iamque immedicabiliter aegrotans, neque cedit magnis quamlibet a Deo remediis indultis.40 The consequence of this process is that the Latin translation not only presents more words than the original, but it also loses the semantic concentration of the Greek. By expanding Greek single words into new syntagms, Anianus changes the iconicity of the text itself and enriches its imagery. For example, in the translation a remarkable amount of modal, comparative and connective adverbs, which are absent in the original Greek, can be found. On a grammatical and syntactical level, Skalitzky has already pointed out that Anianus generally follows the rules of classical Latin, with a tendency to render the Greek indirect discourse with quoniam/quod/quia + subjunctive or indicative.41 To this it should be added that the word order is frequently very affected and rhetorical, with the result of creating, in some cases, obscure sentences. For instance, verbs tend to be placed penultimately and a large number of hyperbata are employed. E.g.: in parvulos vertit innocuos / probabilem afferre rationem / rationem iuvemus exemplis / quo enim, Herodes saevissime, colore rationis iratus es / nullo quidem, si diligenter inspicias, haec medio separantur.42

36

Patrologia Graeca 57:89, ll. 12-13. Anianus, homilia IX, ll. 9-10 (see Appendix below). 38 The English translation is mine. 39 Patrologia Graeca 57:89, ll. 3-5. 40 Anianus, homilia IX, ll. 2-4 (see Appendix below). 41 Skalitzky, “Annianus of Celeda,” 214-15. 42 Anianus, homilia IX, ll. 9, 27, 68-9, 43-4, 83-4 (see Appendix below). 37

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Another of Anianus’s stylistic characteristics is the creation of symmetries and syntactical parallelisms, which are not in the Greek original. Anianus, in fact, generally tends to reunite not only the grammatical setting, but also the semantic structure of the Chrysostomian text. For example, in the above-mentioned sentence ǻ̝ΏΏȂȱ ΓЁȱΎ΅Θ΅ΗΘνΏΏΉΘ΅΍ǯȱ ͣΘ΅Αȱ ·ΤΕȱΦ·ΑЏΐΝΑȱǽǯǯǯǾȱΚ΅ΕΐΣΎΝΑȦsed coerceri [...] indultis),43 whilst Chrysostom uses two independent sentences and two subjects (i.e. Erodes and the soul), Anianus reunites the sentences and makes one subject (the soul) out of them. Moving to the presence of doctrinal interpolations, it has been said that in the In Matthaeum Preface Anianus made Chrysostom an advocate of the idea that children are born without sin (parvulos [...] absque ullo nasci peccato).44 In the ninth homily this question is discussed in the passage dealing with the massacre of the innocents, with God’s reasons for permitting it, and with children’s responsibility for deserving death. Concerning the problem of whether children may deserve death, Chrysostom states that though they were without sin, they will be rewarded in the other world in order to compensate their suffering (i.e. their death):ȱ ̒ЁΎȱ όΎΓΙΗΣΖȱ ΐΓΙȱ Ών·ΓΑΘΓΖǰȱ ϵΘ΍ȱ ΎΪΑȱ Υΐ΅ΕΘφΐ΅Θ΅ȱ ΐχȱ ϖǰȱ ΐ΍ΗΌЗΑȱ ΦΑΘϟΈΓΗ΍Ζȱ πΎΉϧȱ ·ϟΑΉΘ΅΍ȱ ΘΓϧΖȱ ΔΣΗΛΓΙΗ΍ΑȱπΑΘ΅ІΌ΅ȱΎ΅ΎЗΖDz45 It is important to note, however, that when Chrysostom refers to “sin”, a plural, not a singular, is used. In the above-mentioned passage, in fact, Chrysostom is referring not to the original sin, but to all those sins that children could not have committed because of their young age. This is clearly stated a few lines before: ̍΅ϠȱΔΓϟ΅ΑȱΉϨΛΓΑȱΥΐ΅ΕΘϟ΅ΑȱΘΤȱΔ΅΍Έϟ΅ǰȱΚ΋ΗϠΑǰȱϣΑ΅ȱΘ΅ϾΘ΋ΑȱΈ΍΅ΏϾΗΝΑΘ΅΍DzȱΔΉΕϠȱ ΐξΑȱ·ΤΕȱΘЗΑȱπΑȱψΏ΍Ύϟθȱ·ΉΑΓΐνΑΝΑȱΎ΅ϠȱΔΓΏΏΤȱΔΉΔΏ΋ΐΐΉΏ΋ΎϱΘΝΑȱΉϢΎϱΘΝΖȱ ΩΑȱ Θ΍Ζȱ Θ΅ІΘ΅ȱ ΉϥΔΓ΍ȉȱ Γϡȱ Έξȱ ΩΝΕΓΑȱ ΓЂΘΝΖȱ ЀΔΓΐΉϟΑ΅ΑΘΉΖȱ ΘΉΏΉΙΘχΑǰȱ ΔΓϧ΅ȱ Υΐ΅ΕΘφΐ΅Θ΅ǰȱΈ΍ȂȱЙΑȱΎ΅ΎЗΖȱσΔ΅ΌΓΑǰȱΦΔνΌΉΑΘΓDz46 When one looks at Anianus’s translation, this passage is unexpectedly not interpolated and, although in the preface Anianus talks about peccatum, the original difference between singular and plural is respected also in his translation: Et quod, inquis, peccatum habebant parvuli, ut illis opus fuerit ignosci? De his quidem qui fuerunt aetate legitima, consequenter hoc dicitur, qui vero tam immaturum sustinuere finem, quaenam illi propter quae interfecti putentur delicta posuerunt? Non me audisti paulo ante dicentem quoniam, si ea quae solvantur

43

Cf. n. 39. Cf. n. 26. 45 Patrologia Graeca 57:92, ll. 33-5. 46 Ibid., ll. 28-33. 44

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peccata non fuerint, erit tamen retributio mercedis his qui iniuste aliqua adversa patiuntur?47

VI. Conclusion Although the analysis of selected passages of the ninth homily alone cannot provide satisfactory treatment of the question addressed at the beginning of this paper, it is not unreasonable to conclude that in general in his translation Anianus shows a good knowledge of Greek and a correct understanding of Chrysostom’s text. Anianus’s remarkable use of rhetorical figures is employed in order to enrich and explain the original Greek in the interest of grammatical clarity and of a semantic enlargement of Chrysostom’s text, perhaps reflecting the written medium of the target language. At a doctrinal level, the translation reveals that Anianus has generally translated faithfully those passages, which could have been easily interpolated towards Pelagian positions. The analysis of a specific passage has shown that Anianus did not change the crucial point announced in his preface. It could be asked whether Anianus failed to understand the difference between peccatum and peccata, but on this point, nothing can be established with certainty. Although it is evident that sometimes Anianus tended to give emphasis to those words which, in the Greek original, refer to human nature, will, and virtues, the small changes, the omissions and the additions occurring in Anianus’s translation can for the present be explained more as stylistically rather than ideologically conditioned.

47

Anianus, homilia IX, ll. 96-101 (see Appendix below). It is important to bear in mind that the difference between sin and sins present in the original Greek does not imply that Chrysotom wanted to make a doctrinal point. Perhaps the difference between the plural and the singular did not even particularly concern him. What is really important to stress is the fact that Anianus did not change the text of a passage which could have potentially supported the ideas professed in the Preface. This hypothesis could be revised in case it should be proved that a later copyist changed Anianus’s translation. In the present state of our knowledge, however, even Q has no traces of a text different from the rest of the manuscript tradition.

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89

Appendix Homilia nona ex capite secundo Tunc Herodes videns quoniam inlusus esset a Magis iratus est valde et mittens occidit omnes pueros qui erant in Bethleem et in omnibus finibus eius, a bimatu et infra secundum tempus quod exquisierat a Magis.

5

10

15

20

1. Et certe non eum oportuerat irasci, sed comprimi potius ac timere, atque intellegere quoniam impossibilia conaretur. Sed coerceri omnino nequit animus prava semel voluntate vitiatus iamque immedicabiliter aegrotans, neque cedit magnis quamlibet a Deo remediis indultis. Considera denique istum prioribus malis addere posteriora certantem, et homicidia homicidiis iungentem, perque omnia velut furibundum in praecipitia labentem. Quasi enim ab aliquo daemonum ita iracundia invidiaque vexatus, nulla prorsus ratione frenatur, sed contra ipsam furit omnino naturam et iram qua adversus Magorum illusionem fremebat, in parvulos vertit innocuos, tale quiddam in Palaestina facere aggressus, quale Pharao in Aegypto perpetrarat. Mittens, enim inquit, occidit omnes pueros qui erant in Bethleem et in omnibus finibus eius a bimatu et infra secundum tempus quod exquisierat a Magis. Hic iam vos diligenter intendite. Etenim multi super hisce infantibus dicere multa conantur, et alii quidem modestius patiuntur magis quam faciunt quaestionem, alii vero confidentius certant, immo furiosius. Ut igitur hos quidem ab insania, illos autem ab imperitia liberemus, patimini nos de hac causa vel breviter disputare. Si enim istud criminari volunt, quoniam despecti sunt a Deo parvuli cum iussu occiderentur tyranni, criminentur etiam illorum militum necem qui traditum sibi Petrum aliquando custodiebant. Sicut enim hic fugiente puero Iesu, alii parvuli pro illo qui solus quaerebatur intereunt, Titulum et mittens – a Magis : om. codd. 2 quoniam impossibilia : quod rem stultam k || 4 denique : igitur k || 5 homicidia homicidiis : homicidio homicidia T(g) || 7 ita : ira k || 8 furit omnino : o. f. k || 9 in parvulos vertit : v. i. p. B || 10 Pharao : ille post Pharao add. CB || 11 enim inquit : i. e. B || omnibus : cunctis CMB || 13 intendite : attendite k || multi – multa : multi multa s. h. i. d. c. k || hisce : huiusmodi k || 14 conantur : iniuriam facti criminantes post conantur add. k(g) || quidem modestius : m. q. Tk || magis : potius T || 14/15 patiuntur magis quam faciunt quaestionem : sciscitari malunt k(g) || 17 istud : illud k || 18 sunt : sint T || etiam : quoque BT || 18/19 illorum militum necem : n. i. m. B || 19 enim : vero k __________ Titulum Mt 2, 16

|| 10-12 Mt 2,16

90

25

30

35

40

45

50

Emilio Bonfiglio

sic etiam tunc Petrum de catenis et carcere ab angelo liberatum, tyrannus quidem huic {de quo loquimur} et opere iunctus et nomine cum requisisset nec tamen invenire potuisset, pro illo eos a quibus custodiebatur milites interemit. Et quid hoc, inquies, spectat ad causam? Istud enim non est solutio, sed geminatio quaestionis. Et ego id quidem novi, proptereaque omnia eiusmodi profero, ut uno absolvam cuncta compendio. Quonam igitur modo ista solvenda sunt, quamve poterimus probabilem afferre rationem? Quoniam non quidem Christi fuga parvulis causa mortis extiterit, sed crudelitas regis, sicut etiam illis militibus non Petri liberatio causa interitus fuit, sed Herodis profecto vecordia. Qui si vidisset parietem carceris temere perfossum, fores violenter revulsas, habuisset colorem quo vel dolum vel desidiam custodientibus apostolum militibus imputaret; cum vero integra atque ita ut fuerant omnia permanerent, cum clausa ostia cernerentur, cum {et Petri} et custodum manus eadem catena constringeret (erant quippe pariter colligati), potuit ex his facile conicere, si iuste id quod acciderat iudicasset, quia neque virtute neque calliditate hominum id fuisset effectum, sed divina procul dubio potentia atque mirifica, ex quo illud quoque fuisset secutum, ut non inique vindicaret in milites, sed Deum qui id egerat suppliciter adoraret. Sic enim fecit cuncta quae fecit, ut non modo custodes in periculum non induceret, verum etiam per illos regem ipsum in viam veritatis adduceret. Si vero ille sapientissimo animarum medico et ad commodum hominum cuncta facienti esse voluit ingratus, inoboedientia languentis in culpa est, non peritia curantis. Quod in puerorum quoque causa dici consequentissime potest. Quo enim, Herodes saevissime, colore rationis iratus es, cum te a Magis illusum videres? Non cognoveras ortum illum esse divinum? Non tu principes convocaveras sacerdotum? Non ipse congregaveras scribas? Non etiam illi qui a te fuerant convocati prophetam secum in iudicium illius concilii protulerunt qui olim ista praedixerat? Non intellexisti nova veteribus consonare? Non audisti quoniam Magos stella deduxerit? Cur non erubuisti tam laudabile studium barbarorum? Cur non libertatem illorum fiduciamque 21 ab angelo liberatum : l. ab a. T || 22 {de quo loquimur} : om. (g) || iunctus : vinctus MT : similis k || 24 istud : haec k || 25 id quidem : q. i. T || 26 eiusmodi : huiusmodi T || quonam : quoniam C || igitur : ergo k || 27 afferre : proferre k || 28 causa mortis : m. c. T || extiterit : extitit k || 29 causa : om. B || 30 qui : quae C || temere : om. B || fores : feras k || 31 revulsas : evulsas T || 33 {et Petri} : om. k.(g) || 35 acciderat : accideret k || 35/36 neque virtute : v. n. T || 36/37 procul dubio potentia : potentia p. d. T || 37 inique : iniquum C || 40 per : ut post per add. CM || 41 sapientissimo : sapientissime C || 44 Herodes saevissime colore rationis : c. r. H. s. T || 45 esse: om. B || 49 Magos stella : s. M. BT

Anianus Celedensis Translator of John Chrysostom: A Pelagian Interpretation?

55

60

65

70

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miratus es? Cur non es reveritus veritatem? Cur non de praecedentibus etiam extrema pensasti? Cur non ex his omnibus collegisti nequaquam Magorum illusioni deputandum esse quod factum est, sed divinae utique virtuti provide omnia atque utiliter ordinanti? Quod si etiam magorum esses fraude deceptus, quid hoc preiudicaret innocuis? 2. His, inquis, assentior. Bene enim Herodem quidem omni excusatione nudasti et ostendisti scelestissimum prorsus homicidam, nondum tamen solvisti de iniquitate ipsius operis quaestionem. Etsi enim ille egit iniuste, cur tamem Deus agi ista permisit? Quid igitur ad huiusmodi obiecta respondeam? Illud profecto quod semper et in Ecclesia et in domo et in publico et omnino ubique inculcare non desino, quodque a vobis summa cum diligentia cupio servari. Stat enim certa illa fixaque regula et una contra omnes huiuscemodi aptissima ac validissima quaestiones. Quaenam igitur haec regula est? Quaeve ratio? Quia videlicet qui laedere velint multi sunt, qui vero ab alio laedatur omnino nullus. Et ne in longum vos sententiae huius conturbet ambiguum, rem celeriter absolvam. Quicquid a quolibet hominum passi fuerimus iniuste, aut remissione peccatorum Deus aut amplioris mercedis retributione compensat. Atque ut lucidius incipiat esse quod dicitur, rationem iuvemus exemplis. Ponamus enim aliquem servum multarum pecuniarum proprio esse domino debitorem, vim quoque perpeti ab iniquis hominibus hunc servum, et aliquanta eorum quae habebat amittere. Si igitur dominus valens coercere raptorem atque violentum, non quidem servo restituat erepta, sed tamen cuncta quae perdidit sibi illa computet reddidisse, putasne laesus est servus? Nequaquam. Quid vero si recipiat quoque plura quam perdidit, nonne etiam lucra damni occasione collegit? Quod certe ab omnibus absque ullo probatur ambiguo. Hoc igitur et in nobis cum iniuste aliquid patimur cogitemus, quia scilicet pro illatis nobis afflictionibus, aut remissionem accipiamus omnium peccatorum, aut, si tanta in nobis delicta non fuerint, clarioribus honoremur coronis. Audi enin Paulum loquentem super eo qui 51 de : ex k || 52 pensasti : pensitasti k || 54 etiam Magorum esses : esses e. M. k || 56 inquis : inquit k || quidem : om. k || 58 operis : facti k || 62 certa : certe C || 63 quaestiones : quaestio CM || 64 sunt : sint k || 65 laedatur : laedi velit C || 66 quicquid : quid add. CTk || 67 remissione : remissionem CM(g) || 68 retributione : retributionem CM(g) || dicitur : dixi k || 69 enim : om. CM || 71 aliquanta : quaedam k || 72 servo restituat : r. s. MB || 73 computet : computaret k || 74 recipiat : receperit k || quoque : om. k || quam : om. M || perdidit : perdiderit k || 76 hoc igitur : om. CM || 78 accipiamus omnium peccatorum : p. o. a. B

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80 fuerat fornicatus: Tradere, inquit, huiusmodi Satanae in interitum carnis ut spiritus salvus sit in die Domini Iesu. Quorsum, inquies, ista dicuntur? Nobis enim de illis sermo est laesis qui ab aliquibus laeduntur inimicis, non qui a doctoribus corriguntur. Nullo quidem, si diligenter inspicias, haec medio separantur. Etenim in quaestionem vertitur si pati quippiam mali noxium 85 dicatur esse patienti. Sed ut de eo quod prius quaeritur sermonem feramus, recordare beati David, qui cum videret Semei illum amarissime instantem eiusque periculis insultantem ac mille eum opprobriis obruentem, duces vero militiae ardere in convitiatoris interitum, prohibuit et dixit: Dimittite eum ut maledicat si forte respiciat Dominus adflictionem meam et reddat mihi 90 bonum pro maledictione hac hodierna. In psalmis quoque canendo dicebat: Respice inimicos meos quoniam multiplicati sunt et odio iniquo oderunt me; et dimitte universa delicta mea. Lazarus quoque propterea intravit in requiem, quia patienter innumera huius vitae adversa sustinuit. Non igitur laeduntur qui laedi nobis videntur, si modo viriliter illata patiantur, quinetiam hinc lucra 95 cumulatiora percipiunt, sive corripiantur a Deo, sive a diabolo verberentur. Et quod, inquis, peccatum habebant parvuli, ut illis opus fuerit ignosci? De his quidem qui fuerunt aetate legitima, consequenter hoc dicitur, qui vero tam immaturum sustinuere finem, quaenam illi propter quae interfecti putentur delicta posuerunt? Non me audisti paulo ante dicentem quoniam, si ea quae 100 solvantur peccata non fuerint, erit tamen retributio mercedis his qui iniuste aliqua adversa patiuntur? Quid igitur obfuit in tali causa parvulis interemptis et ad tranquillissimum tutissimumque portum celeriter evectis? Quoniam si vixissent, inquis, multis potuerant florere virtutibus. Sed idcirco non exigua 80 tradere : tradidi codd. k || huiusmodi : hominem add. Bk || 81 quorsum : quorum C : quibus M || ista dicuntur : d. i. k || 82 sermo est : e. s. CM || 83 nullo : nulla MB || quidem : siquidem k || 84 quaestionem : quaestione B || 85 sed ut : sicut CM || de : om. k || feramus : faciamus k || 87 eiusque : eisque M : exque k || eum : illum CM : cum k || 88 dimittite : dimitte Ck || eum : illum codd. k || 89 si forte respiciat : ut videat codd. k || adflictionem : humilitatem codd. k || 90 bonum : om. C || maledictione hac hodierna : maledicto hoc in isto die codd. k || 92 quoque : vero T || 94 lucra : om. k || 96 inquis : inquit C || illis : illud CM || fuerit : fieret B || 97 fuerunt : fuerint CT || consequenter : recte k || 98 illi : illa BTk || quae : om. T || 99 posuerunt : fuerunt BTk || dicentem : et add. C || ea : om. CM || 101 aliqua adversa : adversa a. k || 103 inquis : inquit C || potuerant : poterant C __________ 80/81 1K 5,5 16,20 ff

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est illis praestanda merces, quoniam in tali causa interitum pertulerunt. 105 Possumus vero illud referre, quod scilicet non eos permisisset Deus tam celeriter hinc rapi, si eos praeclari cuiusdam meriti futuros esse praescisset. Si enim etiam illos qui in summa malignitate victuri sunt tanta tamen cum patientia sustinet, quanto magis hos non ita sivisset auferri, si eos magnos quosdam praevidisset futuros. 110 3. Et hi quidem sunt nostri super hac quaestione sermones, immo ne ipsi quidem nostri omnes, sed sunt alii multo his remotiores quos diligenter novit ille qui cuncta dispensat. Ipsi igitur comprehensione huius rei certiore concessa, ad sequentia provehamur et ex afflictionibus ceterorum fortiter omnia ferre discamus. Etenim non parva tunc Bethleem luctuum tragoedia 115 comprehendit, cum passim parvuli ab ipsis matrum raperentur uberibus atque ad crudelem illum interitum ducerentur. Quod si adhuc parvus animo et infra perfectionem probatae in adversis philosophiae iaces, disce illius qui ista praeceperat finem tyranni, et in hac aliquantulum consolatione respira. Satis enim ille tunc celerem ob tale facinus poenam recepit tantoque congruentia 120 sceleri supplicia persolvit, siquidem vitam istam morte teterrima et multo hac quam insontibus intulerat miserabiliore finivit malaque alia mille sustinuit, quae facile nostis quotquot Iosephi super his legistis historiam. Quam ego, ne in longum verba producerem neve continuum textum expositionis inciderem, superfluum duxi praesenti inserere sermoni. Tunc adimpletum est, quod 125 dictum est per Hieremiam prophetam dicentem: vox in Rama audita est ploratus et ululatus multus Rachel plorans filios suos et noluit consolari quia non sunt. Admirabilis consequentia. Quia enim auditorem magnitudine horroris impleverat, cum utique violentum illum iniquum atque crudelem descripsisset interitum, rursus eum consolatur et dicit quod non idcirco illa 130 facta sint quia ea Deus prohibere nequiverit aut futura non viderit, sed quae certe et praescierit et per prophetam longe ante praedixerit. Nequaquam igitur 104 illis : om. k || 105 eos permisisset : p. e. T || 111 multo : multi C || 112 ipsi : om. BT : huic k || 113 concessa : commissa k || 114 ferre : ferenda k || luctuum : luctus k || 115 atque : om. k || 116 illum interitum : illam mactationem k || parvus : es add. Tk || parvus animo : a. p. k || 120 morte teterrima : t. m. B || 121 miserabiliore : miserabiliori MB || 122 his : gestis add. CM || ego ne : n. e. MB || 127 enim : vero k || 128 violentum illum iniquum : violentam illam iniquam k || 129 interitum : mactationem k || et : ac CT || 131 et : om. MB __________ 124-127 Mt 2, 17-18

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turberis et concidas ad ineffabilem providentiam eius aspiciens quam et per illa quae operatur ipse et per ista quae ab aliis fieri sinit perspicue possumus intueri. Quod igitur Dominus discipulis loquens ait, hic etiam coaptandum est. Quibus quoniam tumultuaria ista iudicia, criminationes varias ac totius impugnationes orbis nulloque foedere solvenda proelia praecinebat, relevans eos et consolans ait: Nonne duo passeres asse veneunt et unus ex illis non cadet super terram sine Patre vestro. Haec vero dixit ostendens quia nihil illo fieret nesciente, sed spectante quidem cuncta, non tamen cuncta faciente, ac si diceret nihil omnino turbemini, neve paveatis. Ille enim qui et praevidet ista omnia quae sustinetis et potest profecto prohibere, vobis utique prospiciendo non prohibet. Quod in nostris quoque debemus tentationibus cogitare, et satis hanc idoneam consolationem poterimus accipere. Et quid, inquis, Racheli cum Bethleem commune fuisse dicetur? Rachel, inquit, plorans filios suos. Quid autem Rama pertinet ad Rachel? Rachel mater fuit Beniamin, quam defunctam sepelierunt in Hippodromo, qui est iuxta Bethleem. Quia igitur et sepulchrum vicinum erat et campus ipse in Beniamin sorte contigerat (Rama quoque ad eandem pertinebat tribum), et a principe tribus et ab ipso interfectionis loco consequenter eos qui occisi sunt filios eius vocavit. Deinde cum ostendisset incurabile illud vulnus infixum, ait: et noluit consolari quia non sunt. Rursus etiam hinc dicimus quod paulo ante dicebam, nunquam nos debere omnino turbari, cum accidunt aliqua quae promissionibus Dei adversari videantur. Ecce enim, adveniente ipso Domino ad illius populi immo et totius orbis salutem, qualia ponuntur exordia. Mater fugit, intolerabilibus patria calamitatibus occupatur, caedes innumerae 132 providentiam eius : e. p. B || aspiciens : prospiciens k || quam : quoniam k || 133 possumus : possimus C || 135 tumultuaria – ac : condemnationes captivitates et k(g) || 136 impugnationes orbis : o. i. k || nulloque foedere solvenda : internecivaque k || relevans : revelans T || 138 super : in k || vestro : qui in caelis est post vestro add. CBTk : qui in caelis post vestro add. M(g) || illo : eo post verbum fieret transp. k || 139 cuncta faciente : f. c. T || 141 quae : et add. k || 142 prospiciendo : proficiendo k || debemus : om. k || 144 inquis : etiam post inquis add. k || fuisse : om. k || dicetur : dicit k || inquit : om. CT || 151 hinc : hic k || 152 nos : om. C || 153 adversari : adversa CM || 154 et : om. k || ponuntur : populi k __________ 137/138 Mt 10, 29

|| 144/145 Mt 2, 18

|| 150/151 Mt 2, 18

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omnibusque amariores mortibus perpetrantur, cum cives tunc undique fugarentur, cum apostoli post ea varia ubique et innumera discrimina sustinerent, verberatores tamen ac persecutores suos facere dignatus est discipulos. Defuncto autem Herode, ecce apparuit angelus Domini in somnis Ioseph in Aegypto: dicens surge et accipe puerum et matrem eius et vade in terram Israhel. Non iam dicit fuge, sed vade. 4. Videsne rursum tribulationi requiem succedentem, deinde periculum imminere post requiem? Rediens enim montanam illam regionem reliquit et in propriam rursus habitationem revertitur et crudelem illum parvulorum intersectorem vidit extinctum. Deinde, ingressus domum, priorum discriminum reliquias offendit, filium scilicet tyranni viventem atque regnantem. Quonam autem modo in Iudaea regnabat Archelaus, cum ipsi provinciae Pilatus certe Pontius praesideret? Cum etiam recens adhuc esset Herodis interitus et necdum regnum illud fuisset in multa divisum, nisi quia nuper patre defuncto, filius interim pro ipso tenebat imperium. Nam frater quoque Herodis eodem erat nomine, propter quod evangelista signanter addidit, Pro Herode, inquit, patre suo. Quod si in Iudaeam propter Archelaum, inquies, venire metuebat, debuit etiam Galilaeam propter Herodem timere. Sed mutandae regionis causa iam nulla remanebat, cum res iam profecto essent quietae. Omnis quippe impetus persequentis in Bethleem eiusque finibus desaevierat, qua utique caede completa, opinabatur Archelaus omnia iam peracta atque in illa multitudine parvulorum eum quoque qui solus quaerebatur extinctum. Alioquin si scisset mortuum patrem, non, occiso eo, quem regem timebat futurum sollicitior ipse fuisset in reliquum, atque in

156-159 cum cives – est discipulos : ploratus et luctus ingens ubique. Neque est cur conturberis, sic ille rem publicam suam semper auspicatur, ingens virtutis suae nobis exhibens argumentum, sic apostolos suos deduxit atque omnia restituens contraria contrariis componit, quo maiori cum admiratione fiant. Caesi igitur eiectique et mille tormenta passi apostoli, victores tandem persecutorum suorum evadunt k(g) || 158 facere : fecere T || dignatus est : om. CT || 159 apparuit angelus Domini : angelus D. a. codd. k || 160 et1 : om. BT || et2 : om. M || 161 fuge : surge T || 166 scilicet : et post scilicet add. C || 167 quonam : quoniam C || autem : om. B || 168 certe : arcem C : om. k || cum etiam : om k || esset : erat k || 169 fuisset : fuit k || nisi quia : itaque k || 171 Herodis : Herodes T || erat : in add. CM || 172/173 propter Archelaum inquies : i. p. A. T || 174/175 res iam : i. r. Bk || 176 eiusque : in add. CT || qua : quia C || utique : uti T || 178 murtuum patrem : mortuo patre k || occiso eo : occisum eum k __________ 159-161 Mt 2, 19-20

|| 172 Mt, 2, 22

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180 persequendo paternae crudelitatis imitator. Venit igitur Ioseph in Nazareth, non solum periculi timore, verumetiam patriae amore cogente ut scilicet et securius ibi habitaret et gratius. Super qua re responso angeli commonetur, quamquam Lucas non dicat eum illuc ex responsi auctoritate venisse, quia, more purificationis impleto, reversi sunt Nazareth. Quidnam igitur 185 sentiendum est? Quod scilicet Lucas illud tempus profecto describens quod fuit priusquam in Aegyptum fugarentur, haec dixerit. Neque enim ante mundationem illuc eos Deus ire iussisset, ne utique contra legem aliquid videretur admissum, sed ritum quidem illos purificationis implere, non tamen Nazareth redire praecepit, ac tum demum in Aegyptum fugere. Sed illi 190 regionem patriae diligentes istud ultro fecerunt. Qui enim in Bethleem non nisi ob causam descriptionis ascenderant, cum prope ne standi quidem ibi haberent locum, ea re propter quam illuc ventum fuerat impleta, reversi sunt Nazareth. Propterea quippe et angelus cum ipsorum faciens voluntate, in propriam illos domum remittit. Verum ne istud quidem otiose factum 195 putemus, quod certe porro ante praedictum est. Ut adimpleretur, inquit, quod dictum est per prophetas quoniam Nazaraeus vocabitur. Quis igitur hoc asseruit prophetarum? Nequaquam perscruteris ista neque in huiusmodi fueris curiosus. Multa enim ex propheticis periere monumentis, quod de historia Paralipomenon probari possibile est. Desides enim cum 200 essent Iudaei, nec desides modo sed et impii, alia quidem perdiderunt negligenter, alia vero tum incenderunt, tum conciderunt profane. Et de prophanitate quidem tali Hieremias refert, de neglegentia vero in quarto Regum libro legimus, quoniam post multum temporis vix Deuteronomii sit volumen repertum, defossum quodam in loco ac pene deletum. Si autem 205 absque ulla incensione templi, absque ullo expugnante civitatis tumultu sacri 181/182 non solum – angeli commonetur : simul et periculum fugiens et amori patriae concedens, quod ut faceret securius, angeli super ea re responsum accepit k(g) || 184 purificationis : purgationis T || sunt : sint CM || Nazareth : in N. add. k || 185 sentiendum : dicendum k || 186 Aegyptum : Aegypto k || fugarentur : fugaretur C : fugerentur M || 187 mundationem : emundationem k || eos Deus : D. e. T || 188 videretur admissum : a. v. T || 190 istud ultro : u. i. B || 191 prope : pene M || 193 cum : om. CT || voluntate : voluntatem CT || 195 adimpleretur : impleretur codd. k || 196 per Prophetas : a Propheta codd. k || 197 perscruteris : scruteris MB k || 199 probari : probare Ck || 201 tum : om. B || profane : om. k || 205 expugnante : expugnatae C : impugnante k __________ 183 cf. L 2, 39

|| 195/196 Mt 2, 23

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tamen libri varie deperiebant, quis iam istud inter illas depopulationes vastationesque hostium, inter illa templi ac totius urbis incendia contigisse miretur? Caeterum quia prophetae praedixerant, idcirco etiam apostoli Nazareum eum frequenter appellant. Hoc ergo est, inquis, quod prophetiam de Bethleem fecit obscuram? Nequaquam, immo hoc ipsum illos potius admonebat et ad perscrutandum ea quae de illo dicta sunt concitabat. Sic etiam Nathanael ad eum inquirendum venit dicens: A Nazareth potest aliquid boni esse? Erat enim viculus ipse vilissimus, immo non ille tantummodo, sed cuncta prorsus regio Galilaeae. Propter hoc dixit: Scrutare et vide quia propheta a Galilaea non surgit! Verum ille tamen, ne inde quidem erubescens vocari, ostendit quod nullius, quae secundum hominem magna videntur, indiget. Nam et discipulos de Galilaeae regione elegit, ubique occasiones amputans desidia ac torpore languentibus ac docens quod nullius rei indigeamus externae, si voluerimus studere virtuti. Propterea ne domum quidem uspiam possidet : Filius, inquit, autem hominis non habet ubi caput reclinet. Et Herodis insidias fugit, et natus in praesepio collocatur, et in diversorio manet, et matrem elegit pauperem, nos videlicet erudiens ne quid horum esse erubescendum putemus. Itaque ab ipsis omnino principiis universam mundi pompam, omnem superbiam atque arrogantiam calcans, solius nos sectatores praecipit esse virtutis. 5. Cur enim tu de nobilitate patriae tumescas cum te ego totius mundi iubeam esse peregrinum? Cumque talem esse te liceat ut ad comparationem tui totus hic orbis iudicetur indignus? Quemadmodum enim christianus debet ista despicere quae ne ab ipsis quidem gentilium philosophis alicuius pretii iudicantur, sed longe extra bona hominis constituta et extremi cuiusdam status sortita regionem. Et cur, inquis, Paulus tale quid dicit? Secundum electionem autem carissimi, inquit, propter patres. Sed require quando et de quibus et ad quos loquens hoc apostolus dixerit. Ad eos nempe hic sermo est 206 deperiebant : et praem. C : deperibant T || 207 urbis : orbis C || 209 eum : om. codd. || inquis : inquit C ||213 tantummodo : tantum T || 214 scrutare : interroga codd. k || quia : quoniam codd. k || 215 propheta a Galilaea : a. G. p. transp. T || surgit : surget CM || 218 ac1 : et MBk || 220 possidet : possedit k || inquit : quidem C || autem : om. codd. k || 223 esse : om. M || 227 cumque : que om. C || 228 enim : om. MB || 228/229 debet ista : i. d. transp. k || 231 inquis : inquit C __________ 212/213 J 1, 46 || 214/215 38 || 231/232 R 11, 28

J 7, 52

|| 220/221 L 9, 58

|| 226/227 cf. H 11,

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qui ex gentilibus christiani de fidei privilegio magnum quiddam tumebant 235 contraque Iudaeos sese insolentius iactitabant atque hoc ipso eos a societate fidei repellebant. Reprimens igitur illorum tumorem ad fidem istos trahit atque ad eundem zelum credulitatis accendit. Ceterum quando de magnis illis loquitur viris atque in omni virtute firmissimis quemadmodum loquatur attende: Qui enim, inquit, haec dicunt significant se patriam inquirere et si 240 quidem illius meminissent de qua exierunt habebant utique tempus revertendi; nunc autem meliorem appetunt. Et rursus: Iuxta fidem defuncti sunt omnes isti, non acceptis repromissionibus, sed a longe eas aspicientes et salutantes. Et Ioannes quidem ad se venientibus inclamabat: Ne coeperitis dicere Patrem habemus Abraham. Et iterum Paulus: non enim omnes qui ex 245 Israhel hii sunt Israhel. Non qui filii carnis hii filii Dei. Quid enim filios Samuelis necessitudo iuvit parentis cuius non fuerunt virtutis heredes? Quid autem etiam Mosis liberis paternae profuit cura iustitiae cuius eis non successit imitatio? Itaque neque ad illos patris potestas quasi ex successione defertur, qui illum vocabulo tantum signabant parentem, sed ad eum migrat 250 qui illius erat filius virtute, non genere. E regione vero quid Timotheo nocuisse creditur quod fuit patre gentili? Quid autem e diverso Noe filius de patris virtute lucratus est, qui ex ingenuo factus est famulus? Vidisti certe quam non suffecerit ad suffragium liberis paterna nobilitas? Vitia siquidem voluntatis vicerunt privilegia naturae et peccantem non modo de nobilitate 255 patris, verum de ipsa etiam libertate pepulerunt. Esau quoque nonne sancti Isaac erat filius, magno etiam patris favore munitus? Qui scilicet studebat atque cupiebat primatus ei benedictionem donare, propter quod etiam ille omnia patris iussa faciebat, sed tamen quia pravus moribus erat, nihil ex his omnibus prorsus adiutus est. Sed et iuxta naturae ordinem prior et de patris 260 voluntate securior, quia tamen displicebat Deo, omnia quae iam tenere 235 iactitabant : iactabant k || 236 illorum : eorum M || 237 magnis illis : i. m. T || illis : om. k || 238 firmissimis : fortissimis k || 239 enim : autem codd. k || 241 autem : alteram add. CMk || iuxta : secundum codd. k || defuncti : mortui codd. k || 242 omnes isti : i. o. codd. || acceptis repromissionibus : reportantes promissiones codd. k || a : de codd. k || 243 coeperitis : velitis codd. k || 244 Patrem : quia praem. codd. k || 245 Israhel : Israhelitae codd. k || non : neque codd. k || 247 eis : eos CM || 248 successit : succedit CM || ad illos : illis CM || potestas : imperium k || 249 sed : et C || 251 patre : de praem. codd. || 255 verum : verumetiam B || etiam : om. B || etiam libertate : l. e. k || 258 pravus : pravis C : parvus T || 259 prorsus adiutus : a. p. k __________ 239-241 H 11, 14 || 241 H 11, 16 || 241/243 H 11,13 || 243/244 L 3,8 244/245 R 9, 6-8 || 250/251 cf. Act 16, 1 || 255/259 cf. Gn 27, 2 ff

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videbatur amisit. Et quid ego de hominibus loquor? Iudaei quondam filiorum Dei honore gaudebant, sed decoloratos vitiis nihil iuvit tanta nobilitas. Si igitur Dei quis filius factus, nisi huic nomini meritum virtutis addiderit, etiam maius subito profecto supplicium habebit, quid mihi iam avorum atque proavorum memoras dignitates? Hoc autem non in veteri solum, sed in novo etiam testamento contigisse certissimum est: Quotquot, inquit, autem receperunt eum, dedit eis potestatem filios Dei fieri. Sed plurimis tamen ex huiusmodi filiis nihil Patrem Paulus profuisse pronuntiat: Si circumcidamini, inquit, Christus vobis nihil proderit. Quomodo igitur his qui curam sui habere noluerint humanum poterit prodesse suffragium? Nequaquam ergo hominum accedamus sententiae qui de nobilitate ac divitiis gloriantur ne in extremam inopiam decidamus, sed illam potius expetamus opulentiam quae consistit in splendore virtutum. Illam vero paupertatem refugiamus quae nos constituit in squalore vitiorum, per quam ille dives versus in pauperem est, qui ne unius quidem erat guttae dominus atque certe multis precibus ambiebat. Nec est omnino inter nos quispiam qui tanta egestate teneatur. Quamlibet enim aliqui nimia tabescant fame, aquae tamen non gutta solum, sed et copia aequaliter perfruuntur, nec ea solum, sed multo etiam maiore solacio, at non etiam ille dives qui usque ad guttae quoque inopiam singulari egestate devenerat, quodque erat multo acerbius, nullum omnino aliud paupertatis solamen poterat invenire. Quid igitur tota mente divitiis inhiamus, quandoquidem nos istae in coelum evehere non possunt? Responde, quaeso, si terrenus forte rex diceret, non posse divitum quemquam in ipsius fulgere regno aut aliquo honore decorari, numquid non certatim omnes abicerent inhonoratas repulsasque divitias? Si igitur apud terrenum regem honorem nobis auferrent opes, continuo despicabiles fierent, rege vero coelorum inclamante nobis 261/262 filiorum Dei honore : h. f. D. M || 262 Dei : om. B || honore gaudebant : g. h. T || si : sic M || 263 virtutis : virtutes B || meritum virtutis addiderit : v. m. a. T || 264 subito profecto : p. s. B || supplicium habebit : h. s. k || habebit : erit CM || 266 contigisse : viguisse CM || certissimum : certum k || autem : om. codd. || 267 tamen : ista tenentes C : ista tenentibus M || 267/268 tamen ex huiusmodi : e. h. t. TB || 268 pronuntiat : denunciat k || 269 vobis nihil : n. v. B || 270 noluerint : voluerint k || 272 expetamus : expectamus C || 275 atque : ad quam T : aquam k || 276 omnino inter nos : i. n. o. T || 277 nimia tabescant fame : f. n. t. B || 281 invenire : inveniri M || divitiis : avidi praem. codd. || 281/282 nos istae : i. n. T || 284 inhonoratas : honestas M || 286/287 inclamante nobis cotidie : n. c. i. B __________ 266/267 J 1, 12

|| 268/269 G 5, 2

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cotidie atque dicente quia difficile sit nos cum divitiis divinae illius habitationis intrare vestibulum, non impendimus omnia? Numquid non libentissime carebimus universis modo ut caelorum regnum introire mereamur? 6. Et qua tandem digni venia sumus qui his nos omni ambitione circundamus quibus reiectis interclusam hanc nobis viam facile possumus aperire? At vero nos thesaurum nostrum non solum in arcis recondimus, verum etiam terra defodimus modo ne illum custodiendum transferaramus in coelum. Quod faciendo tale quiddam facis quale si aliquis agricola accipiens frumentum in terra fertili seminandum, uberem quidem agrum relinquat, in lacum vero frumentum omne demergat ut eo nec ipse potiatur et frumentum sui corruptione depereat. Sed illa videlicet ab eis mira et prorsus electa ratio proferatur. Quotiens enim nos ista culpamus, dicere solent non parum sibi consolationis afferri quod ea videant cum diligentia sibi cuncta servari. Quinimmo non videre sibi ista reposita esse, grande solacium est et mira securitas. Tu vero propter reconditas tibi opes non solum solicitudinis anxietate cruciaris, sed etiam mala cetera, multoque his graviora perpeteris formidando mortes, pugnas, insidias, tum ne publica saeviat fames et populus vacui ventris impulsu adversus domum tuam arma corripiat, cum certe ipse tu potius amando divitias et famem in urbem, et quod est fame gravius, hoc ipsum domui tuae discrimen importes. Neque enim facile videas aliquos inopiae necessitate deficere, possunt quippe multa variis modis ad huiusce miseriae solacium provideri, propter pecunias vero atque divitias ceterasque huiusmodi causas plurimos tum occulte, tum publice interemptos esse monstraverim. Et multis quidem talium exemplis malorum, viae, agri, fora, omniaque iudiciorum loca plena sunt. Quinimmo si respicias mare ipsum, humano sanguine videas cruentari. Non enim in terra tantummodo tyrannis ista dominatur, sed in pelago quoque multa cum insolentia temulentiaque bacchata est. Nam hic quidem congregandi auri cupidus navigat, alter vero propter ipsum necatur aurum et una atque eadem tyrannis alium mercatorem, alium fecit homicidam. Quid igitur potest vel aerumnosius amore pecuniae 287 cotidie : om. k || atque : ac CMk || sit : est T || 288 numquid : numquam CM || non : om. CM || 289 caelorum regnum : r. c. B || 292 viam : via k || 294 terra : terrae CB : om. T || 295 quale : quasi MB || 296 agrum relinquat : r. a. T || 297 frumentum omne : o. f. B || 299 proferatur : profertur C || ista : ita M || 299/300 sibi consolationis : c. s. T || 304 pugnas : et add. k || pugnas insidias : i. p. T || 305 vacui ventris : ventris v. B || adversus : adversans k || arma : om. k || arma corripiat : c. a. T || ipse tu : t. i. T || 305/306 tu potius : p. t. C || 310 causas : causa CMk || 317 vel : om. k

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vel etiam perniciosius inveniri, quando propter eam plurimi et peregrinentur et periclitentur et saepe etiam trucidentur? Quis, inquis, miserebitur incantatori a serpente percusso? Oportebat enim ut, scientes hanc crudelissimam tyrannidem, procul eius refugerent servitutem atque a tam inutili et imperioso amore requiescerent. Et quanam hoc, inquis, ratione possibile est? Si scilicet alium id est caelestis regni amorem intra tuum pectus incluseris. Qui enim concupiscit illius regni gloriam, facile irridebit avaritiam. Qui semel Christi effectus est servus, non erit mammonae famulus, cuius certe e regione fit dominus. Illa enim ut fugientem sequi, ita fugere consuevit sequentem. Nullum sic honorat ut contemptorem sui, nec ita irridet aliquem ut eos qui illam nimium concupiscunt, nec irridet modo, verum etiam vinculis eos mille circumligat. Itaque solvamos aliquando hos pessimos artissimosque nodos. Quid rationabilem animam in famulatum adducimus irrationabilis materiae omnium malorum parentis? Sed o grande ridiculum. Nos enim illam verbis incessimus, at vero illa nos rebus impugnat, sicut servos quospiam verberones iugiter inhonorans et quasi venales per cuncta circumferens. Quo quid turpius possit quidve indignius inveniri? Si enim insensibiles materias non vincimus, quemadmodum incorporeas possumus superare virtutes? Si vilissimam terram et abiectos lapides minime despicimus, principatus quomodo nobis potestatesque subdemus? Quemadmodum vero ipsum illud poterimus decus castitatis tenere? Si enim aspectu subito splendor auri nos sui cupiditate succendit, quonam modo possumus pulchram faciem pudico animo atque oculo praeterire? Etenim tanto quidam in hanc tyrannidem amore concurrunt, ut eos ipse quoque aspectus auri saepe perturbet, qui etiam facetum se loqui aliquid arbitrantur, cum quasi ludendo dicunt, iuvari quoque oculos quotiens aureus nummus 318 peregrinentur : peregrinantur k || 319 periclitentur : periclitantur k || trucidentur : trucidantur k || quis : et praem. codd. k || inquis : inquit C : om. T || 320 incantatori : incantatoris codd. k || percusso : percussi codd. k || 322 requiescerent : quiescerent T || hoc inquis : i. h. k || inquis : inquit C || 323 tuum pectus : p. t. B || 325 effectus est servus : s. est e. k || 328 nimium : nimiam C : nimie k || 329 eos : om. k || 330 rationabilem : rationalem k || 331 irrationabilis : rationabilis k || omnium : que post omnium add. CBTk || 332 nos : non M || verbis : om. k || 333 verberones : per orbem nos k || 337 principatus : quoque add. k || quomodo : credo C || nobis potestatesque : p. n. T || 339 aspectu : aspectus T || auri : etiam add. k || nos sui : s. n. T || sui : om. CM || succendit : succenderit T || 340 atque : ac k || 341 quidam : quidem M || 342 perturbet : conturbet T || loqui aliquid : a. l. B __________ 319/320 Sir 12, 13

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aspicitur. Sed periculose, o homo, in talibus ludis: nihil enim perinde et 345 animae oculis et corporis, ut huiusmodi cupiditatis morbus incommodat. Hic quippe est amor ille teterrimus qui lampades stultarum virginum extinxit, easque a sponsi exclusit aspectu. Haec enim, ut dicis, species oculis accommoda non sivit Iudam ad Domini respicere voluntatem, quin etiam ut caecum duxit in laqueum, mediumque dirupit, postque illa omnia ad 350 Gehennae supplicia transmisit. Quid est hac igitur peste iniquius quidve perniciosius, non dico materia pecuniarum, sed importuna ista cupiditate hominum atque furiosa? Nam crebro et pugnas ciet et multo sanguine mortalium madet omnique fera prorsus immanior incidentes sibi rabido ore dilaniat, quodque his multo est gravius, ne ipsos quidem facit sentire laniatos. 355 Oportebat enim eos qui tam dira patiuntur, et ad praetergredientes quosque tendere supplices manus et impense in auxilium convocare, qui e diverso etiam delectantur et gratificantur his morsibus. Quo quid umquam potest infelicius, quidve furiosius iudicari? Haec igitur omnia intellegentes fugiamus morbum hunc omnino letalem et venenatissimos avaritiae morsus remedio 360 congruente curemus. Satis ab hac procul peste fugiamus ut et hic tutam vitam habeamus atque tranquillam et thesauros consequamur futuros, gratia et misericordia Domini nostri Iesu Christi, cui honor et gloria et imperium cum Patre et Spiritu Sancto in saecula saeculorum. Amen.

345 animae : animi CT || morbus : morbos C || 346 lampades : lampadas T || 347 aspectu : thalamo k(g) || 348 Domini : Dominum C 350 || hac igitur : i. h. T || 351 materia : de praem. k || materia pecuniarum : p. m. B || 354 laniatos : laniatus k || 357 gratificantur : gloriantur C || 359 hunc : nunc C || 360 satis : que post satis add. T || 362 et imperium : om. CMBk || 362/363 cum Patre et Spiritu Sancto : om. k __________ 348-350 cf. Mt 27, 5

|| 350 cf. Act 1, 18

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Bibliography Primary Sources Anianus Celedensis. “Die Originalfassung von Anianus’ Epistula ad Orontium.” Edited by Adolf Primmer. In Antidosis, Festschrift für Walter Kraus, edited by Rudolf Hanslik, Albin Lesky and Hans Schwabl, 278-89. Vienna: Böhlaus, 1972. Anianus Celedensis. Praefatio ad Evangelium homiliis de laudibus S. Pauli praefixa. Patrologia Graeca 50:471*-2*. Anianus Celedensis. Praefatio ad Orontium homiliis in Matthaeum praefixa. In Patrologia Graeca 58:975-8. Biblia sacra iuxta vulgatam versionem. Edited by Robert Weber et al., 5th edn. Stuttgart: Deutsche Bibelgesellschaft, 2007. Hieronymus Presbyter. Epistulae. Edited by Jerome Labourt, 8 vols. Paris: Les Belles Lettres, 1949-63. Ioannes Chrysostomus. De Laudibus S. Pauli Apostoli homiliae. Edited by Auguste Piédagnel, SC 300. Paris: Édition du Cerf, 1982. Ioannes Chrysostomus. Homiliae in Matthaeum. Edited by Frederick Field. Cambridge, 1839.

Secondary Literature Bardy, Gustave. “Grecs et Latins dans les premières controverses pélagiennes.” Bulletin de Littérature Ecclésiastique 49 (1948): 3-20. Baur, Chrysostomus. S. Jean Chrysostome et ses œuvres dans l’histoire littéraire. Louvain: Bureaux du recueil/Paris: Albert Fontemoing, 1907. Baur, Crysostomus. “L’entrée littéraire de saint Chrysostome dans le monde latin.” Revue d’histoire ecclésiastique 8 (1907): 249-65. Cooper, Kate. “An(n)ianus of Celeda and the Latin Readers of John Chrysostom.” Studia Patristica 27 (1993): 249-55. Garnier, Jean. Dissertatio prima de primis auctoribus et praecipuis defensoribus haeresis quae a Pelagio nomen accepit. Patrologia Latina 48:257-320. Honigmann, Ernest. “Annianus, Deacon of Celeda (415 A.D.).” Patristic Studies, Studi e testi 173, 54-8. Città del Vaticano: Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana, 1953. Musurillo, Herbert. “John Chrysostom’s Homilies on Matthew and the Version of Annianus.” In Kyriakon: Festschrift Johannes Quasten, edited by Patrick Granfield and Josef A. Jungmann, 452-60. Münster: Aschendorff, 1970. Nuvolone, Flavio G. “Anianus de Cele(n)da.” In Dictionnaire de Spiritualité, vol. 12, 2908-12. Paris: Éditions Beauchesne, 1986.

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Schlatter, Fredric W. “The Author of the Opus imperfectum in Matthaeum.” Vigiliae Christianae 42 (1988): 364-75. Skalitzky, Rachel. “Annianus of Celeda: His Text of Chrysostom’s «Homilies on Matthew».” Aevum 45 (1971): 208-33. Voicu, Sever J. “Le prime traduzioni latine di Crisostomo.” Studia Ephemeridis «Augustinianum» 42, 406-7. Roma: Institutum Patristicum Augustinianum, 1994.

ERIUGENA’S USE OF BYZANTINE BIBLICAL EXEGESIS IN HIS COMMENTARY ON THE FOURTH GOSPEL DAN BATOVICI The present paper is an inquiry into the Greek sources of Eriugena’s Commentary on the Gospel of John. Its intention is to throw some light on Johannes Scottus Eriugena’s use of the Byzantine biblical exegesis in his exegesis of the Fourth Gospel. It is well known now that he was rather particular in his milieu, as he knew, translated and made use of important Greek authors: PseudoDionysius, Gregory of Nazianzus and Maximus the Confessor are cited at length along with Ambrose and Augustine in his Commentary on the Gospel of John.1 It would be appropriate to begin by saying that there are three authors Eriugena mainly uses as sources in this Commentary, though he does not always indicate it in the text: Augustine, Pseudo-Dionysius, and Maximus the Confessor.2 Of interest here are the two Greek authorities, and, in addition to them, Gregory of Nazianzus. The question of Eriugena’s Greek sources has not been neglected by Eriugenian scholarship.3 Yet, the underlying question of this paper is: how is a 1

Philippe Chevalier, ed., Dionysiaca. Recueil donant l‘ensemble des traductions latines des ouvrages attribués au Denys de l’Areopage, vol. 1 (Bruges: Desclée de Brouwer, 1937), vol. 2 (Paris: Desclée de Brouwer, 1950); Édouard Jeauneau, ed., Maximi Confessoris Ambigua ad Iohannem iuxta Iohannis Scotti Eriugenae Latinam Interpretationem, Corpus Christianorum. Series Graeca, 18 (Turnhout: Brepols, 1988); Maximi Confessoris Quaestiones ad Thalassium una cum Latina Interpretatione Iohannis Scotti Eriugenae iuxta posita, eds Carl Laga and Carlos Steel, Corpus Christianorum. Series Graeca, 7 (Turnhout: Brepols, 1980), 22 (Turnhout: Brepols, 1990); “Le ‘De imagine’ de Grégoire de Nysse traduit par Jean Scot Erigène,” ed. M. Cappuyns, Recherches de théologie ancienne et médiévale 32 (1965): 205-62. 2 Édouard Jeauneau, introduction to Commentaire sur l’Evangile de Jean, by Jean Scot, Sources chrétiennes, 180 (Paris: Cerf, 1972) 26. The Latin text of the Johaninne commentary used in this article is from Jeauneau’s edition: Jean Scot, Commentaire sur l’Evangile de Jean, ed. and trans. Édouard Jeauneau, Sources chrétiennes, 180 (Paris: Cerf, 1972). 3 An extended bibliography on the topic is accompanying this article.

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specific citation from a Greek authority being used when commenting on a specific Johannine place? In order to achieve this, three relevant citations or allusions from Pseudo-Dionysius and Maximus as well as two from Gregory will be analysed in both the original and the Eriugenian context. Before that, a very brief account of the perspectives on both Eriugenian biblical exegesis and his use of the Greek Fathers in past scholarship is to be presented. Defined as such, the analysis might ease the understanding of the particularities of Eriugena’s use of Byzantine sources as well as the understanding of some features of Eriugena’s biblical exegesis itself.

I. Chapters from the History of Research a. Eriugena’s Biblical Exegesis Perhaps one of the most influential presentations of the character of Eriugena’s bible exegesis4 in previous scholarship was that of M. Cappuiyns, first published in 1933: the quest to find the truth, a pursuit common to many other Carolingian authors,5 has, in Eriugena’s case, two sources: “l’Ecriture et la création visibile.”6 Of the two, the latter leads to Eriugena’s system of nature. Scripture, on the other hand, encloses truth, and all natural investigations should start from it: Sanctae siquidem Scripturae in omnibus sequenda est auctoritas, quoniam in ea veluti quibusdam suis secretis sedibus veritas possidet;7 in the same way it contains human knowledge as a whole, including the liberal arts.8 As far as the interpretation of Scripture and the Pauline distinction separating letter from spirit are concerned, the two can be superimposed and cumulated.9 Yet the literal level is not devalued by Eriugena, even though they are still clearly

4

We do have a major resource for the study of Eriugena’s biblical exegesis in Gerd van Riel et al., eds, Iohannes Scottus Eriugena. The Bible and Hermeneutics. Proceedings of the Ninth International Colloquium of the Society for the Promotion of Eriugenian Studies held at Leuven and Louvain-la-Neuve, June 7-10, 1995 (Leuven: Leuven University Press, 1996). Further references can be found in the bibliography at the end of the present article. 5 Dom Maïeul Cappuyns, Jean Scot Erigène, sa vie, son oeuvre, sa pensée (Bruxelles: Culture et Civilisation, 1969), 274. 6 Ibid., 276. 7 Ibid., 279. Johannes Scottus Eriugena, Periphyseon, Liber Primus, ed. Édouard Jeauneau, Corpus Christianorum Continuatio Mediaevalis 161 (Turnhout: Brepols, 1996), 92. 8 Cappuyns, Jean Scot Erigène, 278. 9 Ibid., 294.

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separated and the allegorical level obviously preferred.10 Even though the historical reading of the Scripture is by no means set aside, the accent stays on the spiritual exegesis.11 In his important study, T. Gregory12 dwelt on the relation between vallis historiae and the vertex montis theologiae in Eriugena’s biblical exegesis. They are the extremes between which the theoria as the theological and philosophical discourse develops itself.13 He points out that with Eriugena we are far from simply seeking the signification of the letter: the proper image would be one in which the words of Scripture as the words of God,14 in a Pseudo-Dionysian line, fill the world with symbols that are interpretable but constitute the intelligible reality.15 Gregory’s significant outline is that, for Eriugena, the understanding of Scripture starts the Neo-Platonist return of the human nature into its primordial state. In that, Eriugena’s biblical exegesis corresponds completely to his system of nature.16 Finally, a closer look at the spiritual part of Eriugena’s biblical exegesis can be found in a 1996 article by B. McGinn.17 His stance is that the most important

10

According to Cappuyns, Eriugena is following here Maximus the Confessor and the meaning relates less to faith or everyday life than to a metaphysical meaning. Ibid., 295-6. 11 Pages 197-302 of Cappuyns’s book describe the way Eriugena adapted the Platonic scheme of sciences to the interpretation of Scripture: superposed to the historical level there is πΌ΍Ύφ above which there is the naturalis sciencia, ΚΙΗ΍Ύφ and above them both there is the highest contemplation, ΌΉΓΏΓ·΍Ύφ: “Ils résument la varietas theoriae sacrae Scripturae” (page 298). The first above the historical level is moralis inteligentia, the second corresponds to what proceeds from the primordial causes, while the third, contemplation of theology, refers to the eternal and immutable things, the cause of all causes, that being the highest level that can be reached. 12 Tullio Gregory, Giovanni Scoto Eriugena. Tre studi (Firenze: Felice le Monnier, 1963), 58-82. 13 Ibid., 62. 14 Cf. Jean Scot, Commentaire sur l’Evangile de Jean, ed. and trans. Édouard Jeauneau, Sources chrétiennes, 180 (Paris: Cerf, 1972), 272. 15 Gregory notes that Eriugena’s exegesis is to be linked to the Dionysian ΦΑ΅·Ν·φȱ “che applica alla comprensione della Scrittura il processo platonico di ascesa al mondo ideale,” within which the spiritual meaning describes the return to one, analitica, towards deification. Ibid., 67. 16 Ibid., 75: “intendere lo ‘spirito’ della lettera e la ‘ratio’ della creatura è il primo momento di ogni speculazione teologica”. 17 Bernard McGinn, “The Originality of Eriugena’s Spiritual Exegesis,” in Iohannes Scottus Eriugena. The Bible and Hermeneutics. Proceedings of the Ninth International Colloquium of the Society for the Promotion of Eriugenian Studies held at Leuven and Louvain-laNeuve, June 7-10, 1995, eds Gerd van Riel et al. (Leuven: Leuven University Press, 1996),

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feature of Eriugena’s treatment of the two poles of the exegesis–historical and spiritual–under the authority of vera ratio has the particularity that the latter is understood mainly under the apophatical imperative.18 This is reflected in his distinction between mysterium as allegoria facti et dicti and symbolum as allegoria dicti sed non facti developed in the Commentary on the Gospel of John 6:5-6.19 While a mysterium describes an event on the historical level, a symbolum may well lead recta ratio apophatically towards a spiritual meaning that simply contradicts the history, providing therefore a criterion for the understanding of the latter.20

b. The Byzantine Sources The general frame to Eriugena’s treatment of the Greek sources21 is again set by Cappuyns’s study. The latter begins his presentation of the Fathers’ authority from a recurrent Eriugenian phrase: veris rationibus sanctorumque Patrum auctoritate.22 The particularity of his perspective comes from the fact that Eriugena considers that the authority of the Fathers balances the faculty of ratio in searching for the truth. Cappuyns identifies and describes Eriugena’s endeavour to justify and therefore analyse the value and limits of the tradition and authority of the Patristic authors.23 First, when confronting the rather different accounts of the Fathers on specific matters, Eriugena chooses not to compare but simply present them together one after another.24 Secondly, on the one hand, the diversity of opinion parallels the multiple meanings of Scripture; on the other hand, and closer to Eriugena’s 55-80. The article contains also a brief but very instructive account of the development of the intelligentia spiritualis in the Christian tradition up to Eriugena. Ibid., 56-61. 18 Ibid., 61. 19 Jean Scot, Commentaire, 352-66. 20 Ibid., 66. Furthermore, mysteria point to “the fallen world of temporal process” while symbola to the primordial causes of the Eriugenian system. Ibid., 67. 21 There are two major resources studying Eriugena’s relation to his sources: W. Beierwaltes, ed., Eriugena. Studien zu seinen Quellen. Vorträge des III. Internationalen Eriugena-Colloquiums. Freiburg im Breisgau, 27-30. August 1979 (Heidelberg: Carl Winter, 1980); B. McGinn and W. Otten, eds, Eriugena: East and West. Papers of the Eighth International Colloquium of the society for the Promotion of Eriugenian Studies. Chicago and Notre Dame 18-20 October 1991 (Notre Dame, London: University of Notre Dame Press, 1994). Further references on the treatment of the Byzantine sources can be found in the bibliography at the end of the present article. 22 Cappuyns, Jean Scot Erigène, 281. 23 Ibid., 283. 24 Ibid., 284-5.

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method, the diversity is due to different depths of understanding that ultimately complete and clarify each other.25 Thirdly, in the ratio-auctoritas couple, vera ratio precedes authority—which itself is based on the former—with the result that ratio should be sought even if against an authority. Nevertheless, this is not to lower the Fathers but to ease building a hierarchy among their views.26 The question of the use and importance of Byzantine sources has benefited from a large amount of scholarship, and the conclusions seem to agree on the essentials, differing mainly in emphasis. Several works describe the relevance of particular Greek and Latin sources for different aspects of Eriugenian doctrines. Firstly, E. Gilson noticed that Eriugena wrote in Latin while regularly thinking in Greek, a phrase that is often repeated.27 In a study on the use of Augustine by Eriugena, B. Stock concludes that “he was an author who read both the Greeks and the Latins and thought for himself.”28 In a different approach and a very short paper on Eriugena’s treatment of the Pseudo-Dionysius, I.-P. Sheldon Williams notices that “in interpreting the Ps.Dionysius Eriugena often, consciously or unconsciously, adapts his author’s meaning to harmonise with his own teaching.”29 “Unconscious adaptations” are scribal mistakes in the codex Eriugena used–mistakes that we can trace today– which would fit his doctrine even if, as mistakes, they departed from the genuine Dionysian intention. “Conscious adaptations,” on the other hand, are Eriugenian interpretations of the Dionysian texts that differ from the original in one of the following ways: deliberate mistranslations, tacit adjustment of meaning, and situations where Eriugena will “give the Dionysian text an interpretation which it [the Dionysian text] could support but which was almost certainly not intended.”30

25

Ibid., 285-6. Ibid., 288-90. The authority of the Fathers is auctoritas humana, unlike that of the Scripture. 27 E. Gilson, History of Christian Philosophy in the Middle Ages (London: Random House, 1955), 121. 28 Brian Stock, “Observations on the Use of Augustine by Johannes Scottus Eriugena,” Harvard Theological Review 60 (1967): 220. 29 I. P. Sheldon-Williams, “Eriugena's Interpretation of the Ps.-Dionysius,” in Studia Patristica, Vol. XII. Papers Presented to the Sixth International Conference on Patristic Studies held in Oxford 1971. Part I. Inaugural Lecture, Editiones, Critica, Philologica, Biblica, Historica, ed. Elizabeth A. Livingstone (Berlin: Akademie Verlag, 1975), 151-4. 30 Ibid., 151. 26

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II. The Treatment of Greek Sources in the Commentarius a. Dionysius the Pseudo-Areopagite i. Briefly, the Eriugenian encounter with Dionysius the Pseudo-Areopagite–as we know of it–consists in Eriugena’s effort to translate in Latin all his treatises and epistles. Another important work is Eriugena’s commentary on the Celestial hierarchy from the Dionysian corpus.31 In the work we are examining here, the first mention of Dionysius is to be found in Eriugena’s comment on John 1:17.32 This is the penultimate verse of the Johannine prologue. It asserts that the “Law (lex) has been given through Moses” while “grace and truth (gratia et veritas) came through Jesus Christ”. These three terms are at first acknowledged as establishing a pair—with the law on the one hand, grace and truth on the other—as the first is ascribed to Moses and the other two to Christ. Simplified, this would point to the relationship between the Old and the New Testament. From here, Eriugena goes on to use the three terms as an ascendant triad that introduces three hierarchies. The triad begins—at its lower end—with the Law as the hierarchy hidden in the mysteries of the Old Testament, continues with Grace as the middle hierarchy, through which the first one is revealed within the New Testament, and concludes—at its top—with the Truth as the celestial hierarchy of the eschatological contemplation of truth. Here, Eriugena’s allegorical exegesis of John 1:17 follows two steps. In the first one, as expected, Moses and the Law (lex) are the figure for the literal and historical level of the Scriptures, while Grace and Truth are the figures for the spiritual fulfillment of the literal level. While the first step is at hand and is present in the Johannine text itself, the second one is quite far from it—unless the simple juxtaposition of gratia and veritas would suggest such ascension—and is due, as Eriugena declares in the Commentary,33 to his reading of Dionysius the PseudoAreopagite. Most likely, the text Eriugena invites us to read for its relevance to the three terms of John 1:17 is the Ecclesiastical Hierarchy that he had translated into Latin.34 In Dionysius’ text, at chapter V, paragraph 2, we can find the three 31

Goulven Madec, ed., Expositiones in Ierarchiam coelestem, Corpus Christianorum. Continuatio Mediaevalis 50 (Brepols: Turnhout, 1978). 32 All English citations to John—as well as the Greek ones—are taken from Greek-English New Testament, ed. Barbara Aland et al. (Stuttgart: Deutsche Bibelgesellschaft, 1998). 33 Jean Scot, Commentaire,114-15. 34 Patrologia Graeca 3:369-584. The translation by Eriugena is found in Patrologia Latina 122:1069-1112.

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hierarchies Eriugena is mentioning. The ends of the triad match in both authors: at Dionysius, the Law (ΑϱΐΓΖȱhere) too has “veiled truth with obscure imagery”—but the Greek text has actually truths, in the plural (ΘЗΑȱ ΦΏ΋ΌЗΑ) while Moses “depicted […] the institutions of the hierarchy of law” (ΉϢΗ΅·Ν·΍ΎЗΖȱ ϡΉΕΓ·Ε΅ΚЗΑȱΘχΑȱΎ΅ΘΤȱΑϱΐΓΑȱϡΉΕ΅ΕΛϟ΅Α). Again, at the utmost level there is “a most completely immaterial conception of God and of the things divine.” 35 Yet, in Dionysius’ text, the middle term, the in-between realm, is not, as in Eriugena’s interpretation, the Grace of the New Testament, but explicitly the ecclesial institution and its works, the Church which, through its sacraments, takes part in both other two hierarchies. It should be mentioned in addition that Dionysius’s triad is not structured in relation to the three terms Eriugena starts his interpretation with. Grace, ΛΣΕ΍Ζ, is not mentioned at all in this paragraph, while truth, ΦΏφΌΉ΍΅, is not employed in describing the celestial hierarchy in chapter V, paragraph 2 of the Dionysian work. In fact there is no intention to quote John in this fragment. Eriugena’s use of Dionysius’s triad is however consistent with his introduction to his Latin translation of the Ecclesiastical Hierarchy.36 Now we have observed that the middle term, the second hierarchy of the triad, is the Grace of the New Testament for Eriugena. In the Dionysian work, on the other hand, the ecclesiastical officium is holding that place as the middle part communicating with both of the other two through the symbols involved in the officium. However, the difference seems to be not so much an inaccuracy as probably an interpretation from Eriugena’s part of the Greek text that he actually knew well. In support of this statement is the way he subsequently defines the middle hierarchy: it is similar to the Dionysian middle hierarchy, or at least it is intended as being similar, to say the least. In the commentary on John 1:28 Eriugena divides the middle realm in three distinct hierarchies: baptism, the synaxis, and the ointment. The corresponding text is to be found in the Ecclesiastical Hierarchy, and the corresponding hierarchies are based on the following three functions: the cleansing of the one who comes to believe, the illumination of the believer and, at the top level, the perfection of the faith. This is fairly similar to the three eriugenian hierarchies of the middle hierarchy of the main triad, but it also presents a difference: baptism corresponds to the first and the second functions—cleansing and illumination—just as the synaxis—the liturgy—and the ointment correspond both to the illumination and to the perfection of faith. We could at least conclude that in Eriugena the New Testament is an allegory of the ecclesial officium. 35

All three citations are from Pseudo-Dionysius, The Complete Works, transs Colm Luibheid and Paul Rorem (New York: Paulist Press, 1987), 234. 36 Patrologia Latina 122:1033-4. Cf. Jean Scot, Commentaire, n. 13, 114.

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It is not without relevance for Eriugena’s exegetical method to recall the Johannine verse from which Eriugena begins and proceeds to describe the three hierarchies forming the middle hierarchy of the main triad. It is the simple statement at John 1:28: “This took place in Bethany beyond the Jordan, where John was baptising.” Eriugena’s allegorical interpretation begins with matching this verse with the main triad of hierarchies: that of the Law, of the New Testament, and of the unveiled contemplation of the truth. Bethany stands for the Law, and we should point out that what makes it stand for the Law is precisely the long distance from Bethany to Jerusalem. Bethany, being remote from Jerusalem, is the typos for Jerusalem. Meanwhile, Jerusalem itself—which is not present in the Johannine verse, but is suggested in this verse according to Eriugena’s interpretation—is the typos for the celestial Jerusalem, as its name is translated as “vision of peace”. It forms the third hierarchy. The baptising John is the typos for the Grace of the New Testament and from here Eriugena goes on to describe the three hierarchies composing the middle hierarchy of the New Testament that has been presented above.37 Eriugena’s interpretation obviously departs to a certain extent from the interpreted text as the allegorical method aims to explain a text by going as far as possible. In this case, the exegesis is the gathering of cultural and spiritual references. On the other hand, the Greek author is used extensively and followed in spiritus even though not always in litera. It is perhaps not an exaggeration to say that Eriugena is treating his source—to a certain extent—allegorically. ii. One last fragment mentioning Dionysius the Pseudo-Areopagite as such in Eriugena’s Commentary on the Fourth Gospel is the exegesis of John 3:5, the response to Nicodemus’s misunderstanding: “unless one is born of water and the Spirit, he cannot enter the kingdom of God.” To Eriugena, the water mentioned in John 3:5 is plainly baptism. And—on a first step—the spirit mentioned here is interpreted as pointing to the Third Person of the Trinity. But—on the second step now—the exegesis continues rather differently on this topic. According to Eriugena’s reading, one must at the same time receive the “visible” part of the symbol of baptism—aqua—and perceive the full meaning of this very same symbol—spiritus—in order to see and thus enter the Kingdom of God.38 At this point, far from denoting, as we have seen before, the Holy Spirit, spiritus is to a certain extent opposed to aqua as litera would be opposed to spiritus in any other allegorical interpretation.39 37

Jean Scot, Commentaire, 162-3. Ac si aperte dixisset: Nisi quis symbolum baptismatis acceperit visibiliter, et spiritum—id est intellectum ipsius symboli—non perceperit, non potest introire in regnum Dei. 39 Jean Scot, Commentaire,180, n. 3, 209. 38

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Eriugena eventually invites us to further reading on baptism in Dionysius’s Celestial Hierarchy. It seems likely that the text intended as a reference in this invitation is the second chapter of Dionysius’s book.40 Here, in the first paragraph, the Greek author names and proceeds to explain the acting of baptism as the symbol of the birth from God (ΘϛΖȱΌΉΓ·ΉΑΉΗϟ΅ΖȱΗϾΐΆΓΏ΅); the symbol therefore is here as well among perceivable things and its meaning—beyond all perceivable things—is the knowledge of God, which is only accessible through baptism. As we can read later on, “the one who has not had the godly birth will not know nor work the teachings of God.”41 As a short evaluation, both Eriugena and Dionysius call baptism a symbol. Now symbol is a technical term in Eriugena’s exegesis and is subsequently defined in this very same Commentary as opposed to another technical term, namely mysterium. In the fragment commenting on John 6:14, we learn that mysterium denotes a scriptural topic that would fall under the title facti et dicti—namely historical facts present in scriptural sayings, while symbolum denotes those under the title non facti et dicti—only sayings. Mysteria are therefore, among other examples, the mystical tent, and the circumcision and—against what was said before—baptism, while symbola are, for example, all the parables in the New Testament: they never happened but were said and written, and are meaningful. The French editor of the Commentary simply reports the use of symbolum for baptism as being one simple derogation from Eriugena’s own explicit rule of exegesis.42 It is perhaps only reasonable to note that he easily went against his own terminology when drawing on Dionysian parallel passages because he was following the Greek authority’s terminology. That is by no means inconsistent with Eriugena’s loose use of the Greek sources, as we have already seen. Let us outline for now that he developed two different interpretations from two different starting points: spiritus as the Holly Spirit and spiritus as the spiritual meaning of the symbol that baptism represents. And also that here Eriugena decided for Dionysian terminology against his own explicit terminology. .

iii. Another explicit and extended use of Dionysius is to be found in the exegesis of the first part of the next Johannine verse, which is the last verse of the Prologue, John 1:18a:43 “No one has ever seen God.” Eriugena’s explanation of this verse is essentially the following: no one has ever seen the substance of God— 40

Patrologia Graeca 3:392-404; Patrologia Latina 122:1074-9. Patrologia Graeca 3:392-404: ̈Ϣȱ·ΤΕȱΘϲȱΉϨΑ΅΍ȱΌΉϟΝΖȱπΗΘϠΑȱψȱΌΉϟ΅ȱ·νΑΑ΋Η΍ΖȱΓЁȱΐφȱ ΔΓΘνȱ Θ΍ȱ ·ΑΓϟ΋ȱ ΘЗΑȱ ΌΉΓΔ΅Ε΅ΈϱΘΝΑȱ ΓЄΘΉȱ ΐχΑȱ πΑΉΕ·φΗΉ΍ΉΑȱ ϳȱ ΐ΋Έξȱ Θϲȱ ЀΔΣΕΛΉ΍Αȱ πΑΌνΝΖȱπΗΛ΋ΎЏΖǯ 42 Jean Scot, Commentaire, n. 1, 399 43 Ibid., 114-27. 41

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or, for that matter the substance of the consubstantial spirit—since his nature remains “invisible” (invisibilis) and outside the grasp of our “knowledge” (incognitus). Consequently, Eriugena widens this to include the whole Trinity: no one has ever seen the essence and the substance unius trinitati. They all saw a mere image, their epiphany, or, as Eriugena has it, their theophany. And theophaniae autem sunt omnes creaturae uisibiles et inuisibiles, per quas deus–et in quibus–saepe apparuit. (“Theophanies are all the creatures visible or invisible through which and in which God often appeared”). All these points have Dionysian sources or parallels. The notion of theophany derives from Dionysius the Pseudo-Areopagite where it has extensive use44 as a technical term not always related to John 1:18. The third part of chapter IV of the Celestial Hierarchy seems however to be dedicated to John 1:18a and to other biblical fragments which mention humans “seeing” God. Here, theophany is understood as a gradual revealing which consists in a shaped resemblance of the unshaped realities ǻπΑȱ ΐΓΕΚЏΗΉ΍ȱ ΘЗΑȱ ΦΐΓΕΚЏΘΝΑȱ ϳΐΓϟΝΗ΍ΑǼ.45 It is a proportionate revelation in accordance with the strength of the one subjected to revelation.

b. Maximus the Confessor We should begin exploring Eriugena’s use of Maximus the Confessor’s works by saying that he also may well be considered as one of Eriugena’s sources for the establishment of the meaning of theophania, since Eriugena is referring to Maximus’s authority in explaining it in his most influential work, the Periphyseon.46 Again briefly, the encounter with Maximus the Confessor is actually the profound understanding that comes—at least in Eriugena’s case—from the translation into Latin of the First Ambigua and of the Questiones ad Thalassium. i. In the Commentary on the Gospel of John, Eriugena mentions Maximus twice. Among the unquoted uses of Maximian texts, we should mention the use of the distinction between incarnatio and inhumanatio as a Christological distinction. The exegesis of the same verse 1:18 uses successively both incarnatio and inhumanatio in the same phrase, apparently with the same meaning: it is the reason

44

A list of Dionysian occurrences of ΌΉΓΚΣΑΉ΍΅ can be found in Jean Scot, Commentaire, n. 15, 124-5. 45 Denys l’Aréopagite, La hiérarchie céleste, Sources chrétiennes, 58 (Paris: Cerf, 1958), 97. 46 Eriugena, Periphyseon, Liber Primus, 12-13. Cf. Jean Scot, Commentaire, n. 15, 124.

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and means by which God becomes known to humans—and to angels for that matter—in Christ. But one of the possible parallel texts in Maximus, Ambigua 31, uses the Greek equivalents evidently in completing each other increasingly,47 and the Eriugenian Latin translation of Ambigua 31 reflects this as well.48 With this in mind, it is possible to perceive the same intention in the commentary on John 1:18 also. Eriugena employs here the distinction based on the authority of Maximus, and therefore most likely intends to assume the full meaning of the source text without the need for further explications. ii. Yet, the first mention of Maximus in the Commentary is to be found in the exegesis of John 1:27. The Johannine verse depicts the testimony of John the Baptist to the envoys of the Pharisees, and the aspect relevant to this quotation is the anteriority of Jesus to John that appears in the Latin text—qui ante me factus est: “he who comes after me, he has been made before me.” Eriugena’s initial interpretation is doubled with a reference to Maximus’s interpretation of John the Baptist in Ambigua 21.49 John is the figure (figura) for penitence (poenitentia) while Christ that of justitia (figuram iustitiae). From here, Eriugena depicts John as the figure for the fallen humanity preaching and doing penance, striving therefore to achieve the previous state of eternal justice (ad aeternae justitiae statum), whose typos is Christ. The anteriority of Jesus to John allegorically symbolises the anteriority of the humanity in Paradise (in paradiso) to its fall and—now, with John—to its endeavors towards redemption. The Greek text of Maximus differs to a certain extent in intention from Eriugena’s presentation. The obvious intention in Maximus’s text—as far as John the Baptist is concerned—is to show how an allegorising interpretation might allow putting together historical facts otherwise not quite at hand to be put together. And the example Maximus uses to illustrate this is the Precursor quality of John the Baptist, among his other qualities: historically he could not have come before Christ simply because all creation—including John the Baptist—was made in and through him. Yet allegorically he might just be the Precursor—as he came before the dispensatio or, with the Greek word, ΓϢΎΓΑΓΐϟ΅—in the same way he is the voice of the divine word, and the typos of penitence pointing at the justice50 that was before the fall, i.e. before the penitence was even necessary. 47

Patrologia Graeca 91:1276: ΘχΑȱ ΦΏ΋Ό΍ΑχΑȱ ΘΓІȱ ΌΉΓІȱ ΗΣΕΎΝΗ΍Αȱ Ύ΅Ϡȱ ΘΉΏΉϟ΅Αȱ πΑ΅ΑΌΕЏΔ΋Η΍Αǯ Cf. Jean Scot, Commentaire, n. 3, 117-18. 48 Vera dei incarnationem et perfectam inhumanitatem, Jean Scot, Commentaire, n. 3, 118. 49 Patrologia Graeca 91:1244. Both Greek text and Eriugena’s Latin translations are offered in Jean Scot, Commentaire, n. 3, 150-1. 50 Patrologia Graeca 91:1244.

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We may well see here, in Eriugena’s option to pick the penitential allegory from the larger Maximian list of examples, the harmonisation with an important point of his philosophical doctrine: in the last movement, within the fourth division of nature, human nature will return to the pristine state that was before the fall. iii. One last passage we will present here is the second part—out of three—of the commentary on John 1:29—ecce qui tollit peccatum mundi—which is actually a paraphrase of a Maximian passage from Ambigua 47.51 It is perhaps instructive to see what is Maximian and what Eriugenian in this passage from the Commentary on John. Fortunately enough the French editor of this Commentary in the series Sources chrétiennes also edited in an appendix to his volume both the Greek text of Maximus’s Ambigua 47 and Eriugena’s Latin translation of it on the facing pages. The purpose of the Maximian passage is to describe progressive spiritual steps. And the perspective is that of the cross: every believer in Christ is spiritually crucifying himself or herself along with Christ, according to his or her strength (ΈϾΑ΅ΐ΍Α) and virtue (ΦΕΉΘϛΖ). Then a list follows, starting with the believer who, being crucified only from the sin, has overcome it. In Maximus, there are steps in this and these are spiritual steps. Believers get to crucify and renounce a lot of things starting with the sin, the passions, the representation of the passions, then all thoughts related to passions, and so on up to the one who is renouncing the thinking itself. Getting now to another level, Maximus mentions those who renounce the practical philosophy for the contemplation in Spirit, followed by those who relinquish the contemplation in Spirit for the simple theological knowledge. Finally, there are those believers who renounce even the simple theological science for the negation of all things. These steps are steps of spiritual illumination. All examples present in Eriugena are taken from the Maximian list to the extent that it can be said it is a “mosaic in which the fragments of Maximus are still identifiable but are strongly mixed with Eriugenian prose.”52 Eriugena names each example of the mystical crucifixion of the believer and develops its meaning. Yet again, while for Maximus these spiritual steps develop a hierarchical picture of the spiritual illumination, for Eriugena all these spiritual steps are, to a certain extent, levels of knowledge.53 The gain here is not so much in spiritual than in intellectual achievement. In Maximus, knowledge is set aside, and in one of the levels of the believer’s “crucifixion” knowledge is even renounced just as passions were earlier. In 51

Jean Scot, Commentaire, n. 1, 178-9. Ibid. 53 Ibid., n. 7, 182. 52

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Eriugena’s text there is an emphasis on the growth of knowledge. Maximus’s statement is that the strength (ΈϾΑ΅ΐ΍Α) and virtue (ΦΕΉΘϛΖ) of the believer determines the quality and the “level” of mystical crucifixion. Eriugena, on the other hand—translating both Greek terms ΈϾΑ΅ΐ΍Α and ΦΕΉΘϛΖ by the same Latin term, virtus54—adds to Maximus’ statement saying that the increase of virtues determines an increase of intelligences (augmenta intellegentiarum), aiming to ever higher theophanies, towards the true knowledge of Christ (ad veram eius notitiam perveniant). It is again a case of using an authority’s statement by attaching it, transformed, into his system.

c. Gregory of Nazianzus Finally, there are in the Eriugenian exegesis on John a number of fragments that most likely have as sources texts of Gregory of Nazianzus. I will present here the two Gregorian occurrences in the commentary on the verses 1 and 3 of John 3. i. In the first fragment, the interpretation rooted in Gregory’s text presents Nicodemus as a nocturnal disciple: although those like him have perfected belief, they lack the light of perfected works. Their faith is therefore strong but devoid of the heavenly counterpart of faith: the light. Furthermore, they are content to simply meet Jesus without having bonorum operum fiduciam, mostly because they are afraid of their own carnal thoughts and deeds—as opposed to the spiritual ones— symbolised here by the Jews whom Nicodemus is hiding from by coming at night.55 The source for this understanding is Gregory’s paschal Oratio 45, In sanctum Pascha, 24.56 At first, Eriugena seems to quote it directly, but then continues the interpretation from Maximus’s quote of Gregory in his Ambigua 55.57 Important here is that in Maximus’s text the perspective is somehow inverse: Nicodemus’s faith is not flawless, but be that as it may, it would benefit him. In Gregory’s text this is taken a step further, as Nicodemus is a mere entry in a list of pieces of advice for different kinds of believers: if one is a nocturnal believer such as Nicodemus, he should do his part just as the latter did before Jesus’s burial, 54

Ibid., n. 2, 179. Ibid., 200: Iuxta uero Gregorium theologum Nicodimus ueluti quidam nocturnus discipulus accipitur, conformans eos qui perfectissime in christum credunt ita ut nihil de integritate catholicae fidei eos lateat, luce tamen perfectorum operum carent; timentes carnalium suarum cogitationum et actionum–ueluti infidelium iudaeorum–impetum atque inuidiam, sola fide colloquio christi fruuntur, bonorum operum fiduciam non habentes. 56 Ibid., n. 4, 200; Patrologia Graeca 36:656. 57 Patrologia Graeca 91:1377. Jean Scot, Commentaire, n. 4, 200. 55

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bringing myrrh:58 every believer has his place. It may be noted that in Eriugena’s text the accent is placed on the fact that Nicodemus’s belief is unfulfilled. ii. In the commentary on John 3:3 Gregory is again mentioned as a source when Eriugena defines four levels of birthing. He proceeds to elaborate: the first, a natural one which can be found in Genesis; the second, out of sin, has as a result the differentiation of sexes; the third, out of the Saviour’s grace and secundum spiritum, is the one mentioned to Nicodemus, the one that sets in motion the return of human nature to its initial state before the fall; the fourth is the general resurrection at the end of days.59 The Gregorian fragment is to be found in the second paragraph of Oratio 40: there are three births,60 the first bodily—nocturnal, enslaving and with suffering— the other baptismal—diurnal, bearing freedom without suffering, leading to life from above—and the third gathers the creation before its Maker in resurrection.61 Eriugena drew his quoting of Gregory from Maximus as expected, namely from his Ambigua 42, where these three births are depicted but are described as four, with a division in the first one of the three.62 Yet this division of sexes as a result of the fall of man is merely mentioned by Maximus—and it seems to come here from Gregory of Nyssa (c. 335-after 394)63—while particularly outlined by

58

Patrologia Graeca 36:656: ̍ΩΑȱ̐΍ΎϱΈ΋ΐΓΖȱϖΖȱϳȱΑΙΎΘΉΕ΍ΑϲΖȱΌΉΓΗνΆ΋ΖȱΐϾΕΓ΍Ζȱ΅ЁΘϲΑȱ πΑΘ΅Κϟ΅ΗΓΑǯ 59 Jean Scot, Commentaire, 180, 204-6: Gregorius autem theologus quatuor natiuitates astruit, quas etiam dominus noster Iesus christus pro salute [0315C] humanae naturae subiisse dignatus est. Quarum prima est natiuitas illa, in qua totum genus humanum simul de nihilo natum, de qua scriptum est: “Et fecit deus hominem ad imaginem et similitudinem suam”. Secunda, quae hominis delictum subsecuta ex utroque sexu, ad similitudinem caeterorum animalium, de qua eadem scriptura dicit: “Masculum et feminam fecit eos”; per quam totum genus humanum in infinitum multiplicatur terrena successione. Tertia, quae est secundum spiritum, de qua nunc dominus ait: Nisi quis natus fuerit denuo; in qua natiuitate incipit humana natura ad suam pristinam sedem, de qua corruit, redire. Quarta erit in resurrectione omnium, quando nascetur simul tota nostra natura, [0315D] morte interempta, in uitam aeternam. Prima itaque naturalis, secunda propter peccatum, tertia per gratiam redemptoris, quarta secundum naturam simul et gratiam: inest enim naturaliter humanae naturae uirtus resurrectionis, siquidem contraria omnino sibi est mors aeterna. 60 Gregoire de Nazianze, Discours 38-41, Sources chrétiennes, 358 (Paris: Cerf, 1990), 199: ̖Ε΍ΗΗχΑȱ·νΑΑ΋Η΍ΑȱψΐϧΑȱΓϨΈΉΑȱϳȱΏϱ·ΓΖаȱΘχΑȱπΎȱΗΝΐΣΘΝΑǰȱΘχΑȱπΎȱΆ΅ΔΘϟΗΐ΅ΘΓΖǰȱΘχΑȱπΒȱ ΦΑ΅ΗΘΣΗΉΝΖǯ 61 Ibid., 200. 62 Patrologia Graeca 91:1316-17. 63 Édouard Jeauneau, “La Division des sexes chez Grégoire de Nysse et chez Jean Scot Érigène,” in Eriugena. Studien zu seinen Quellen. Vorträge des III. Internationalen

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Eriugena as it forms an important feature of his anthropology: the primal human, coherent with the primordial causes, lacked the difference of sexes.64

III. Conclusions There are three characteristics worth mentioning in concluding this analysis of Eriugena’s use of Greek sources in his Commentary on the Fourth Gospel. i. Eriugena might be inconsequential with his own theoretical simple background or terminology when he decides to follow an authority on a specific— and again, rather simple—matter. ii. When he is using a Greek statement in respect to a topic of particular importance to his philosophical system, it is only reasonable to expect that Eriugena would both tailor and bend it to fit into his system. And finally, iii. Eriugenian allegorical exegesis is largely a succession of interpretations and citations from several authorities. These successive interpretations may well be inconsistent with one another. Whenever this situation occurs, the accent is being moved from the consistency on the evocative quality of multiple and different perspectives.

Bibliography Primary Sources Jean Scot. Commentaire sur l'évangile de Jean. Edited and translated by Édouard Jeauneau. Sources chrétiennes, 180. Paris: Éditions du Cerf, 1972. Jean Scot. Homélie sur le Prologue de Jean. Edited and translated by Édouard Jeauneau. Paris: Éditions du Cerf, 1969. Giovanni Scoto. Il Prologo di Giovanni. Edited and translated by Marta Cristiani. Milano: Mondadori, 1987. Johannes Scottus Eriugena. Periphyseon. Edited by Jeauneau Edouard, vols 5. Corpus Christianorum Continuatio Mediaevalis 161-5. Turnhout: Brepols 1996-2003.

Eriugena-Colloquiums. Freiburg im Breisgau, 27-30 August 1979, ed. Werner Beierwaltes (Heidelberg: Carl Winter, 1980), 51. 64 Johannes Scottus Eriugena, Periphyseon, Liber Secundus, ed. Édouard Jeauneau, Corpus Christianorum Continuatio Mediaevalis 162 (Turnhout: Brepols, 1997), 155-213.

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Secondary Literature Allard, Guy. “Vocabulaire erigenien relatif a la representation de l'Ecriture.” In Eriugena. Studien zu seinen Quellen. Vorträge des III. Internationalen Eriugena-Colloquiums. Freiburg im Breisgau, 27-30 August 1979, edited by W. Beierwaltes, 15-32. Heidelberg: Carl Winter, 1980. Arnaldi, Girolamo. “Anastasio Bibliotecario, Carlo il Calvo e la fortuna di Dionigi l'Areopagita nel secolo IX.” In Giovanni Scoto nel suo tempo. L’organizzazione del sapere in età carolingia. Atti del XXIV Convegno storico internazionale. Todi, 11-14 Ottobre 1978, 513-36. Spoleto: Centro italiano di studi sull'Alto Medioevo, 1989. Barbet, Jeanne. “La Tradition du texte latin de la Hiérarchie céleste dans les manuscrits des Expositiones in Hierarchiam caelestem.” In The Mind of Eriugena, edited by John J. O’Meara and Ludwig Bieler, 89-97. Dublin: Irish University Press, 1973. Brennan, Mary. Guide des études érigéniennes. Bibliographie commentée des publications 1930-87-A Guide to Eriugenian Studies. A Survey of Publications 1930-87. Paris: Éditions du Cerf, 1989 Bieller, Ludwig. “Observations on Eriugena’s ‘Commentary on the Gospel of John’: A Second Harvest.” In Jean Scot Erigène et l’histoire de la philosophie. Colloque du C. N. R. S., Laon, Juilet 1975, edited by René Roques, 235-42. Paris: CNRS, 1977. Cantelli, Silvia. “L'esegesi al tempo di Ludovico il Pio e Carlo il Calvo.” In Giovanni Scoto nel suo tempo. L’organizzazione del sapere in età carolingia. Atti del XXIV Convegno storico internazionale. Todi, 11-14 Ottobre 1978, 261336. Spoleto: Centro italiano di studi sull’Alto Medioevo, 1989. Cantón Alonso, José Luis. “Le Rôle hermenéutique de la foi dans la pensée érigénienne.” In Iohannes Scottus Eriugena. The Bible and Hermeneutics. Proceedings of the Ninth International Colloquium of the Society for the Promotion of Eriugenian Studies held at Leuven and Louvain-la-Neuve, June 7-10, 1995, edited by Gerd van Riel, Carlos Steel and James McEvoy, 127-54. Leuven: Leuven University Press, 1996. Chiesa, Paolo. “Traduzioni e traduttori dal greco nel IX secolo: sviluppi di una tecnica.” In Giovanni Scoto nel suo tempo. L’organizzazione del sapere in età carolingia. Atti del XXIV Convegno storico internazionale. Todi, 11-14 ottobre 1978, 171-200. Spoleto: Centro italiano di studi sull’Alto Medioevo, 1989. Cremascoli, G. “I commenti al Vangelo di Giovanni in età carolingia.” In Lingua e stile del Vangelo di Giovanni, edited by Aldo Ceresa-Gastaldo, 137-54. Genova: Pubblicazioni del D.AR.FI.CL.ET, 1991. Cristiani, Marta. “La ‘concordia’ di Agostino e Dionigi. Per un’ermeneutica del dissenso fra le fonti patristiche nel ‘Periphyseon’ di Giovanni Scoto Eriugena.”

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Medioevo 19 (1993): 1-25. English translation: “Toward a Hermeneutic of the Disagreement of Patristic Sources in John the Scot’s ‘Periphyseon.’” In Eriugena: East and West, edited by Bernard McGinn and Willemien Otten, 115-40. Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 1994. Cristiani, Marta. “Oltre la teologia. Per una lettura dell’ ‘Omelia’ di Giovanni Scoto Eriugena sul Prologo del Quarto Vangelo.” Studi Medievali, 3a Series, 31 (1990-1): 285-356. Cristiani, Marta. “‘Plus quam homo’. Santità e umanità dell’Evangelista Giovanni fra Agostino e Giovanni Eriugena.” In Signum Pietatis. Festgabe für Cornelius Petrus Mayer o.s.a. zum 60. Geburtstag, edited by Adolar Zumkeller, 517-22. Würzburg: Augustinus-Verlag, 1989. Cappuyns, Maïeul. Jean Scot Erigène, sa vie, son oeuvre, sa pensée. Paris: Desclée de Brouwer 1933. Bruxelles: Culture et Civilisation, 1969. Cappuyns, Maïeul. “La Versio Ambiguorum Maximi de Jean Scot Erigène.” Recherches de Théologie ancienne et médiévale 30 (1963): 324-439. Cappuyns, Maïeul. “Jean Scot Erigène et les Scoliae de Maxime le Confesseur; Glose inédite de Jean Scot sur un passage de Maxime.” Recherches de théologie ancienne et médiévale 31 (1964): 122-4, 320-4. Colish, M. L. “John the Scot’s Christology and Soteriology in Relation to His Greek Sources.” Downside Review 100 (1982): 138-51. Gersh, Stephen. “Omnipresence in Eriugena. Some Reflections on AugustinoMaximian Elements in Periphyseon.” In Eriugena. Studien zu seinen Quellen. Vorträge des III. Internationalen Eriugena-Colloquiums. Freiburg im Breisgau, 27-30. August 1979, edited by Werner Beierwaltes, 55-74. Heidelberg: Carl Winter, 1980. Gregory, Tullio. Giovanni Scoto Eriugena. Tre studi. Firenze: Felice le Monnier, 1963. Harrington, Michael. “Eastern and Western Psychological Triads in Eriugena's Realised Eschatology.” In History and Eschatology in John Scottus Eriugena and His Time. Proceedings of the Tenth International Conference of the Society for the Promotion of Eriugenian Studies. Maynooth and Dublin August 16-20, 2000, edited by James McEnvoy and Michael Dunne, 447-62. Leuven: Leuven University Press 2002. Herren, Michael W. “John Scottus and the Biblical Manuscripts Attributed to the Circle of Sedulius.” In Iohannes Scottus Eriugena. The Bible and Hermeneutics. Proceedings of the Ninth International Colloquium of the Society for the Promotion of Eriugenian Studies held at Leuven and Louvainla-Neuve, June 7-10, 1995, edited by Gerd van Riel, Carlos Steel and James McEvoy, 303-20. Leuven: Leuven University Press, 1996. Jeauneau, Édouard. “Jean l’Erigène et les Ambigua ad Iohannem de Maxime le Confesseur.” In Maximus Confessor. Actes du Symposium sur Maxime le

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Confesseur. Fribourg 2-5 September 1980, edited by Felix Heinzer and Christoph von Schönborn, 343-64. Fribourg: Éditions universitaires, 1982. Jeauneau, Édouard. “Artifex Scriptura.” In Iohannes Scottus Eriugena. The Bible and Hermeneutics. Proceedings of the Ninth International Colloquium of the Society for the Promotion of Eriugenian Studies held at Leuven and Louvainla-Neuve, June 7-10, 1995, edited by Gerd van Riel, Carlos Steel and James McEvoy, 351-66. Leuven: Leuven University Press, 1996. Jeauneau, Édouard. “Érigène et Grégoire de Nysse.” In Du copiste au collectionneur. Mélanges d’histoire des textes et des bibliothèques en l’honneur d’André Vernet, edited by Donatella Nebbiai-Dalla Giarda and Jean-François Genest, 57-70. Turnhout: Brepols, 1998. Jeauneau, Édouard. “Jean Scot Érigène et le grec.” Archivum Latinitatis Medii Aevi (Bulletin du Cange) 41 (1979): 5-50. Jeauneau, Édouard. “La division des sexes chez Grégoire de Nysse et chez Jean Scot Érigène.” In Eriugena. Studien zu seinen Quellen. Vorträge des III. Internationalen Eriugena-Colloquiums. Freiburg im Breisgau, 27-30 August 1979, edited by Werner Beierwaltes, 33-54. Heidelberg: Carl Winter, 1980. Jeauneau, Édouard. “Neant divin et Théophanie (Erigene disciple de Denys).” In Langages et philosophie. Hommage à Jean Jolivet, edited by Alain de Libera, Abdelali Elamrani-Jamal and Allain Galonnier, 331-8. Paris: Vrin, 1997. Jeauneau, Édouard. “Pseudo-Dionysius, Gregory of Nyssa and Maximus the Confessor in the works of John Scottus Eriugena.” In Carolingian Essays. Andrew Mellon Lectures in Early Christian Studies, edited by Uta-Renate Blumenthal, 137-49. Washington: Catholic University Press of America, 1983. Kijewska, Agnieszka. “The Eriugenian Concept of Theology: John the Evangelist as the Model Theologian.” In Iohannes Scottus Eriugena. The Bible and Hermeneutics. Proceedings of the Ninth International Colloquium of the Society for the Promotion of Eriugenian Studies held at Leuven and Louvainla-Neuve, June 7-10, 1995, edited by Gerd van Riel, Carlos Steel and James McEvoy, 173-94. Leuven: Leuven University Press, 1996. Laga, Carl. “A Complete Graeco-Latin Index of Maximus Confessor’s Questiones ad Thalassium.” In History and Eschatology in John Scottus Eriugena and His Time. Proceedings of the Tenth International Conference of the Society for the Promotion of Eriugenian Studies. Maynooth and Dublin August 16-20, 2000, edited by James McEnvoy and Michael Dunne, 169-82. Leuven: Leuven University Press, 2002. Le Bourdellès, R. “Connaissance du grec et méthodes de traductions dans le monde carolingien jusqu’à Scot Erigène.” In Jean Scot Erigène et l’histoire de la philosophie. Colloque du C. N. R. S., Laon, Juliet 1975, edited by René Roques, 117-23. Paris: CNRS, 1977.

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Marler, Jack C. “Scriptural Truth in the Periphyseon.” In Iohannes Scottus Eriugena. The Bible and Hermeneutics. Proceedings of the Ninth International Colloquium of the Society for the Promotion of Eriugenian Studies held at Leuven and Louvain-la-Neuve, June 7-10, 1995, edited by Gerd van Riel, Carlos Steel and James McEvoy, 155-72. Leuven: Leuven University Press, 1996. McEvoy, James. “Biblical and Platonic Measure in John Scottus Eriugena.” In Eriugena: East and West, edited by Bernard McGinn and Willemien Otten, 153-78. Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 1994. McGinn, Bernard. “The Originality of Eriugena’s Spiritual Exegesis.” In Iohannes Scottus Eriugena. The Bible and Hermeneutics. Proceedings of the Ninth International Colloquium of the Society for the Promotion of Eriugenian Studies held at Leuven and Louvain-la-Neuve, June 7-10, 1995, edited by Gerd van Riel, Carlos Steel and James McEvoy, 55-80. Leuven: Leuven University Press, 1996. Meyendorff, John. “Remarks on Eastern Patristic Thought in John Scottus Eriugena.” In Eriugena: East and West, edited by Bernard McGinn and Willemien Otten, 51-68. Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 1994. Meyavaert, Paul. “Eriugena’s Translation of the Ad Thalassium of Maximus: Preliminaries to an Edition of this Work.” In The Mind of Eriugena, edited by John J. O’Meara and Ludwig Bieler, 78-88. Dublin: Irish University Press, 1973. Meyvaert, Paul. “The Exegetical Treatises of Peter the Deacon and Eriugena’s Latin Rendering of the Ad Thalassium of Maximus the Confessor.” Sacris Erudiri 14 (1963): 130-48. Mooney, Hilary. “Some Observations on the Concept of Harmony in PseudoDionysius Areopagita and John Scottus Eriugena.” In Studia Patristica, Vol. XXIX. Papers Presented at the Twelfth International Conference on Patristic Studies held in Oxford 1995. Historica, Theologica et Philosophica, Critica et Philologica, edited by Elizabeth A. Livingstone, 304-9. Leuven: Peeters, 1997. Naldini, M. “Gregorio Nisseno e Giovanni Scoto Erigena. Note sull’idea di creazione e sull’ antropologia.” Studi Medievali, 3a Series, 20 (1979): 501-33. Otten, Willemien. “Eriugena’s ‘Periphyseon’ and the Concept of Eastern versus Western Patristic Influence.” In Studia Patristica. Vol. XXVII. Papers Presented at the Eleventh International Conference on Patristic Studies held in Oxford 1991, edited by Elizabeth A. Livingstone, 217-24. Leuven: Peeters, 1997. Pépin, Jean. “Jean Scot, traducteur de Denys. L’exemple de la ‘Lettre IX’.” In Jean Scot écrivain, edited by G.-H. Allard, 129-41. Montréal, Paris: Vrin, 1986.

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Roques, René. “Traduction ou interpretation? Breves remarques sur Jean Scot traducteur de Denys.” In The Mind of Eriugena, edited by John J. O’Meara and Ludwig Bieler, 59-76. Dublin: Irish University Press, 1973. Sheldon-Williams, I. P. “Eriugena’s Greek Sources.” In The Mind of Eriugena, edited by John J. O’Meara and Ludwig Bieler, 1-14. Dublin: Irish University Press, 1973. Sheldon-Williams, I. P. “Eriugena’s Interpretation of the Ps.-Dionysius.” In Studia Patristica, Vol. XII. Papers Presented to the Sixth International Conference on Patristic Studies held in Oxford 1971. Part I. Inaugural Lecture, Editiones, Critica, Philologica, Biblica, Historica, edited by Elizabeth A. Livingstone, 151-4. Berlin: Akademie Verlag, 1975. Van Riel, Gerd. “A Bibliographical survey of Eriugenian studies 1987-95.” In Iohannes Scottus Eriugena: the Bible and Hermeneutics. Proceedings of the Ninth International Colloquium of the Society for the Promotion of Eriugenian Studies held at Leuven and Louvain-la-Neuve, June 7-10, 1995, edited by Gerd Van Riel, Carlos Steel and James McEnvoy, 367-400. Leuven: Leuven University Press 1996. Van Riel, Gerd. “Eriugenian Studies 1995-2000.” In History and Eschatology in John Scottus Eriugena and His Time. Proceedings of the Tenth International Conference of the Society for the Promotion of Eriugenian Studies-Maynooth and Dublin August 16-20, 2000, edited by James McEnvoy and Michael Dunne, 611-36. Leuven: Leuven University Press, 2002. Weisweiler, H.. “Die Ps. Dionysiuskommentare ‘In Coelestem Hierarchiam’ des Skotus Eriugena und Hugos von St. Viktor.” Recherches de théologie ancienne et médiévale 19 (1952): 26-47.

Part III: Philology and Literature

THE FLORILEGIUM COISLINIANUM AND BYZANTINE ENCYCLOPAEDISM∗ TOMÁS FERNÁNDEZ The aim of this paper is to present the central features of the Florilegium Coislinianum, especially in its relationship to the Sacra Parallela (hereafter Flor. Coisl. and SP respectively); these anthologies, as we will see, may be analysed in the framework of the so-called “Byzantine encyclopaedism,”1 which will be now briefly described.

I.

Byzantine Encyclopaedism

Before examining the concept of encyclopaedism, it should be noted that the SP and related anthologies were not traditionally numbered among Byzantine encyclopaedias; scholars tended to focus on tenth-century works, mainly on those produced under the aegis of Constantine VII Porphyrogenitos (913-59); discussion was usually about “tenth-century encyclopaedism,” not about “Byzantine encyclopaedism” tout court.2 Nevertheless, it should be pointed out that if any ȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱ ȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱ ∗

I would like to thank the FWO-Vlaanderen (Research foundation–Flanders), that funds my doctoral research at the Katholieke Universiteit Leuven. I would also like to thank the anonymous reviewer and Savvas Neocleous, who read with meticulous attention this paper and put forward invaluable suggestions. 1 The critical edition of letter Alpha of this florilegium, which I am now preparing, is a part of a much larger project on Byzantine Encyclopaedism directed by Peter Van Deun and Caroline Macé at the Katholieke Universiteit Leuven (Belgium). Our research team hosts my work as well as that of several other scholars: three fellow PhD candidates’ work on the critical editions of diverse sections of Nilus Doxopatres’s De oeconomia Dei (twelfth century), and on a part of the Synopsis variarum disciplinarum of Joseph Rhakendytes (fourteenth century). Some members of our research team have already finished a critical edition of the letter Gamma of the Flor. Coisl. (Ilse De Vos et al., “L’art de compiler à Byzance : La lettre ī du florilège Coislin.” Byzantion 78 (2008): 159-223, and the edition of the letter Beta is well under way. 2 Cf. Paolo Odorico, “La cultura della ̕ΙΏΏΓ·φ,” Byzantinische Zeitschrift 83, n° 1 (1990): 12.

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Byzantine work ought to be called encyclopaedical, it was the SP.3 And if even this magnum opus was not subsumed under Byzantine encyclopaedism, it is no wonder that the same happened to the comparatively unimportant Flor. Coisl. The notion of Byzantine encyclopaedism, or, more precisely, “tenth-century encyclopaedism,” was popularised, if not actually coined,4 by Paul Lemerle, both in a 1966 article and, especially, in his 1971 book Le premier humanisme byzantin.5 The last chapter of the latter work was called, precisely, “L’encyclopédisme du Xe siècle,” and it started with a very widely quoted sentence: “the tenth century, in the field of knowledge and culture, can be characterised in Byzantium by the idea of encyclopaedism.”6 Thus, the essence of ȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱ ȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱ 3 Cf. Odorico, “Cultura della ̕ΙΏΏΓ·φ,” 12: “Vorrei portare l’analisi in modo forse un po’ provocatorio su un testo che non è mai stato incluso dagli studiosi nella categoria delle enciclopedia: si trata degli ͒ΉΕΣ, meglio noti como Sacra Parallela, di Giovanni Damasceno.” 4 “I termini ‘enciclopedia,’ ‘enciclopedismo’ sono in uso almeno dai tempi di Krumbacher […] gli excerpta costantiniani vengono senz’altro definiti ‘die große Enzyklopädie der Geschichte und Staatswissenschaft’,” in Odorico, “Cultura della ̕ΙΏΏΓ·φ,” 1 (As for Karl Krumbacher, cited by Paolo Odorico, Geschichte der byzantinischen Literatur, vol. 1 (München: Beck, 1897), 563). Odorico further identifies the direct antecedent of Lemerle’s use of the concept of “encyclopaedism” in Dain’s influential article: Alphonse Dain, “L’encyclopédisme de Constantin Porphyrogénète,” Lettres d’Humanité 12 (1953). 5 Paul Lemerle, “L’encyclopédisme à Byzance à l’apogée de l’empire, et particulièrement sous Constantin VII Porphyrogénète,” Cahiers d'histoire mondiale 9 (1966); Paul Lemerle, Le premier humanisme byzantin. Notes et remarques sur l’enseignement et culture à Byzance des origines au Xe siècle (Paris: Presses universitaires de France, 1971). 6 Paul Lemerle, Premier humanizme byzantin, 267: “Le Xe siècle, dans le domaine de la connaissance et de la culture, peut être caractérisé à Byzance par la notion d’encyclopédisme, bien que le mot n’existe pas encore, et que son contenu byzantin ne se laisse exactement ramener à aucun autre.” This work has been translated into English: Paul Lemerle, Byzantine Humanism, the First Phase: Notes and Remarks on Education and Culture in Byzantium from its Origins to the 10th Century, trans. Helen Lindsay and Ann Moffatt (Canberra: Australian association for Byzantine studies, 1986). The translators render this sentence as follows: “In the field of knowledge and culture, tenth-century Byzantium can be characterised by the concept of encyclopaedism, although the word did not exist then and the form it took in Byzantium cannot be compared exactly with any other example,” 309 (Not taking into consideration minor differences (“then” instead of “yet”), we can easily remark that “the form it took [in Byzantium]” is not a correct translation of “son contenu [byzantin]”). In Lemerle’s view, only the word “encyclopaedism” was missing; but even if the word did not exist yet, the content of what we now call Byzantine encyclopaedism, as well as its actual practice, did. This may appear to be an epistemological impossibility, but not on the grounds that the word “encyclopaedism” (or “encyclopaedia”) should be avoided owing to the fact that it did not exist at the time: for an analogous case, see Moses I. Finley, The Ancient Economy (Berkeley: University of

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tenth-century Byzantine culture, according to Lemerle, is its “encyclopaedism.” This refers, of course, not to “encyclopaedias” in a narrow sense, but to any work with a tendency to cut and paste, to excerpt old works and compile new ones. The patchwork thus formed is, in Lemerle’s terms, “encyclopaedic.” Usually no writing is involved, only cutting and pasting. The compiler is an excerptor, not an epitomator, and he does not rewrite, or write, much.7 In most cases, the text quoted existed already, but the arrangement is new–in some cases, as in that of the SP, radically new.8 The tendency to take fragments of longer works and put them together in a new volume is typical of the time. Basically, that is what Lemerle, and many after him, call “tenth-century encyclopaedism.”9 And this period, which has been called “Macedonian Renaissance,” is more cultivated than the immediately previous one, in which the SP and, probably, also the Flor. Coisl. originated. ȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱ ȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱ ȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱ ȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱ California Press, 1973), 17ff., where this historian convincingly argues that even if the term “economy” meant until well into the eighteenth century something quite different from what we now generally agree to be the “economy,” it is not anachronistic to call “economy” a specific set of practices, even if they were not actually felt as “economy” at the time. If the problem of the word “encyclopaedism” were its being anachronistic, we should also avoid talking about ancient Greek “literature” or “religion,” because an exact equivalent of these words, as it is known, did not exist at the time. One serious objection to Lemerle, however, is that the “contenu byzantin” of encyclopaedism, which did not coincide with the contents of any other known encyclopaedism, is very vague; that when we hear the word “encyclopaedia,” we do not usually think of a book such as a De cerimoniis, and even less of an epigrammatical collection (“religion” or “economy,” on the contrary, gives a clearer and more distinct picture, broad as it might be). 7 Lemerle, Premier humanisme byzantin, 285: “le travail, non d’un epitomator (car il ne s’agit pas d’abréger, malgré ce qu’on a parfois dit), mais de l’excerptor.” The compiler of the Flor. Coisl. does sometimes abbreviate the text he is citing; what he hardly ever does and, if he does so, he does it only in very small parts, is to paraphrase: thus, he may shorten on occasion, but he is certainly no metaphrastes. The only text the compiler seems to have written himself is the introduction: barely three lines, as we will see below. Not even in the Sacra Parallela does the compiler write anything apart from the introduction, which, by contrast, is much longer and sophisticated than the one in the Flor. Coisl. 8 Odorico, “Cultura della ̕ΙΏΏΓ·φǰ” esp. 17ff. Yet, as we have seen, the work of John was not analysed by Lemerle. 9 According to this author, this kind of “general procedure” can be found in the second appendix to De cerimoniis: “il [Constantin VII] s’acharne à rechercher les vieux documents; il les trouve d’ordinaire dans les archives du Palais, mais au besoin étend sa quête plus loin; il les raboute plus ou moins hereusement, les ‘arrange’ ou ‘corrige,’ par chance moins qu’il ne le dit, les habille d’un préambule ambitieux et de quelques phrases semées ici et là.ȱC’est assez pour qu’il pense avoir fait d’œuvre originale” (Lemerle, Le premier humanisme byzantin, 274).

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Since almost any work with an excerpting tendency could be called “encyclopaedical,” it is easy to see why Lemerle saw so many encyclopaedias in tenth-century Byzantium, ranging from political to zoological encyclopaedias: even somewhat older epigrammatical collections, Lemerle concedes, based on excerpta which were based in turn on excerpta, would suit this definition, and be then, in a way, “encyclopaedical.” No wonder that tenth century in Byzantium has been called “the century of the encyclopaedias”! Is the Flor. Coisl. an encyclopaedia? I often feel that it would be at least as adequate to call it “compilation,” “florilegium,” or “anthology”. At any rate, the description Lemerle gives of a typical tenth-century “encyclopaedia” perfectly suits it. This is why the “container” term encyclopaedism, despite its many shortcomings, will be provisionally kept.

II. The Florilegium Coislinianum The dating of the Flor. Coisl. is not yet completely established. The latest author cited by the Flor. Coisl. is Theodoros Studites, more specifically his epistle n° 57, which must be dated after 781, probably a good deal afterwards.10 Thus the terminus post quem is about 800. On the other hand, four of the earliest manuscripts of the florilegium date from the tenth century. Since one of them (Milan, Ambros. Q 74) is at four removes from the archetype,11 it can be assumed that the encyclopaedia was already in existence in the middle of the tenth century. The florilegium, then, must have been compiled in the ninth or tenth century, roughly, between 800 and 950. I would like to say a few words about the compiler of the Flor. Coisl. and his critics, because, despite his humility, he has some detractors as well. The point for which he is most frequently blamed is, of course, his lack of “originality.” But even if the compiler was probably not a great thinker himself, I would like to underline that he had a modest purpose, and could fulfil it. Not everyone feels he should “create” new knowledge, and that can be in itself healthy. Now, it is not anachronistic to assess the originality of Byzantine writers, not any more than it is anachronistic to say anything about them. The problem arises when one tries to attach a positive value to originality. This was clearly alien to the Byzantine culture, where, indeed, it was often deliberately preferred not to include anything of one’s own (which is difficult even to attempt, as everyone knows). Besides, this ȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱ ȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱ 10 It had a separate position in the collection of Epistles by Studites, surely due to its “interesting content”. Georgios Fatouros, Theodori Studitae epistolae (Berolini et Novi Eboraci: de Gruyter, 1992), 202*. 11 See the stemma codicum in Ilse De Vos et al., “L’art de compiler à Byzance.”

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kind of appraisal of originality, by necessity subjective, should not taint the scientific approach: it is simply useless. It could be argued that the compiler of the Flor. Coisl. created nothing new, and is therefore not original. But, as we shall presently see, even from this restricted perspective, he is original, probably more than he intended (being also more subjective than he realised): not in the phrasing, not in the concepts themselves, but in the disposition of the whole, which was actually created by him, even though the parts of which it is composed, and even the general patterns for arrangement, pre-existed. Nevertheless, it could still be claimed that the compiler of the Flor. Coisl. is not as original as other compilers such as John Damascene (d. 749) (who, interestingly, has often been accused of lacking originality). Even if this might be true, it is easy to realise that such an assessment of originality would make no contribution whatsoever to the discussion. It is a fact that this florilegium is a hundred per cent quotation; the nature of the work excluded any attempt at personal innovation, and this was probably felt as a generic constraint when trying to preserve, compile and arrange an already existent knowledge–it should be remembered that no less an author than John Damascene (if we may assume he is the actual compiler of the SP) had refrained from rephrasing in a personal way the text of his sources in his SP. Why study the Flor. Coisl.? There are at least two good reasons to do so. First, it is indisputably a valuable witness for many interesting texts. Some of these exist elsewhere, but even here the florilegium has proven useful for critical editions (see for example the Quaestiones ad Thalassium of Maximus the Confessor edited by Carlos Steel and Carl Laga). It also contains many texts extant only there (for instance, texts by Maximus the Confessor, Methodius, or Marcianus of Bethleem),12 and now e.g. the present author has finished the critical edition of four fragments of a certain Leontius Damascene;13 and there are yet many hidden treasures to be found. But besides its importance as a textual witness, the second ȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱ ȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱ 12

Bram Roosen and Peter Van Deun, “̝ΕΉΘχΑȱ ΉϢȱ σΛΓ΍Ζȱ ΔΣΑΌдȱ ρΒΉ΍Ζ. Byzantine Virtue Speculation: a Case Study,” in Virtutis Imago: Studies on the Conceptualisation and Transformation of an Ancient Ideal, ed. Gert Partoens, Geert Roskam and Toon Van Houdt, Collection d’Études Classiques 19 (Leuven: Peeters, 2004), 397-422; Gottlieb Nathanael Bonwetsch, Methodius (Leipzig: J. C. Hinrichs’sche Buchandlung, 1917), 455-69; Michael Kohlbacher, “Unpublizierte Fragmente des Markianos von Bethlehem (nunc CPG 3898 ad),” in Horizonte der Christenheit. Festschrift für Friedrich Heyer zu seinem 85. Geburtstag, eds Michael Kohlbacher and Markus Lesinski (Erlangen: Lehrstuhl für Geschichte und Theologie des christlichen Ostens, 1994), 137-66. See also Michael Kohlbacher, “Unpublished Greek Fragments of Makianos of Bethleem [† 492]: An Edition in Progress,” Studia Patristica 19 (1997): 495-500. 13 Tomás Fernández, “Un auteur inconnu dans le Florilège Coislin: Léonce de Damas,” Sacris Erudiri 47 (2008): 209-21.

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reason why the Flor. Coisl. deserves careful study is that it can teach us many things about the culture of the time, the books available to the compiler, the topics which were thought to be relevant for a wider audience. It was rather popular, as the fairly large number of surviving copies proves. I will briefly describe the structure of the Flor. Coisl., comparing it with another encylopaedia which was certainly its model, the SP, probably of the eighth century, and attributed, as we have seen, to John Damascene. First of all, the Flor. Coisl. is alphabetical. Probably it originally contained all the letters up to Omega, but now the most complete manuscript, Par. gr. 923 (tenth century), ends at Psi. In each letter of the Flor. Coisl. there are different sections or chapters. Each one is in turn introduced by a title in which a key word beginning by the letter in question is found. The sections follow no apparent order; there is no reason why the chapter about the locusts that John the Baptist ate (ΏΆдȱΔΉΕϠȱΘЗΑȱΦΎΕϟΈΝΑȱЙΑȱόΗΌ΍ΉΑȱϳȱ ̅΅ΔΘ΍ΗΘφΖ) should precede the one on the Antichrist (ΏΌдȱ ΔΉΕϠȱ ΘΓІȱ ̝ΑΘ΍ΛΕϟΗΘΓΙ), and be placed after one which considers how many ways of sinning the man has (΍Ζдȱ Ύ΅ΘΤȱ ΔϱΗΓΙΖȱ ΘΕϱΔΓΙΖȱ πΒ΅ΐ΅ΕΘΣΑΉ΍ȱ ϳȱ ΩΑΌΕΝΔΓΖ). But even though in general there is no apparent order between the chapters of any given letter, there is one exception: when the word in question is the same. In this case, titles which share a common keyword tend to be grouped together; there are some inconsistencies, of course, but the general trend is clear. I give as an example the first ten sections of letter Alpha, concerning angels and men: ΅ȂȱΔΉΕϠȱΈ΋ΐ΍ΓΙΕ·ϟ΅ΖȱΦ··νΏΝΑȱ ΆȂȱΘϟΑΉΖȱ΅ϡȱΐΓΕΚΝΘ΍Ύ΅ϠȱΘЗΑȱΦ··ΉΏ΍ΎЗΑȱΈΙΑΣΐΉΝΑȱΉϢΎϱΑΉΖȱ ·ȂȱΦΔϱΈΉ΍Β΍ΖȱϵΘ΍ȱΦ··νΏΓΙΖȱΚϾΏ΅Ύ΅ΖȱψΐϧΑȱσΈΝΎΉΑȱϳȱΌΉϱΖȱ ΈȂȱΦΔϱΈΉ΍Β΍ΖȱϵΘ΍ȱΌдȱΘΣ·ΐ΅ΘΣȱΉϢΗ΍ΑȱΓϡȱΩ··ΉΏΓ΍ȱ ΉȂȱΔΉΕϠȱΘЗΑȱΦ··νΏΝΑȱЙΑȱπΚ΍ΏΓΒνΑ΋ΗΉΑȱ̝ΆΕ΅Τΐȱ ΖȂȱΔΉΕϠȱΘϛΖȱΘΓІȱΦΑΌΕЏΔΓΙȱΈ΋ΐ΍ΓΙΕ·ϟ΅ΖȱΎ΅ϠȱΔΏΣΗΉΝΖȱ ΊȂȱΈ΍ΤȱΘϟȱΘΉΏΉΙΘ΅ϧΓΖȱϳȱΩΑΌΕΝΔΓΖȱ ΋ȂȱΈ΍ΤȱΘϟȱΈ΍ΔΏΓІΖȱϳȱΩΑΌΕΝΔΓΖȱ ΌȂȱϵΘ΍ȱϴΕ·΅Α΍ΎϲΑȱΎ΅Θ΅ΗΎΉΙΣΗΌ΋ȱΘΓІȱΦΑΌΕЏΔΓΙȱΘϲȱΗΛϛΐ΅ȱΔΕϲΖȱΘχΑȱΘΓІȱ Ώϱ·ΓΙȱΛΕΉϟ΅Αȱ ΍ȂȱϵΘ΍ȱπΔ΍ΗΘ΋ΐΓΑ΍ΎϲΖȱΘϛΖȱΘΓІȱΎ΅ΏΓІȱΎ΅ϠȱΎ΅ΎΓІȱ·ΑЏΗΉΝΖȱϳȱΩΑΌΕΝΔΓΖȱ Each of the sections, in turn, has one or more fragments which deal with the subject announced in the title. Sometimes they are quotations from the Bible (from the Old rather than the New Testament), and often they belong to different

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authors.14 For instance the first section, ΔΉΕϠȱΈ΋ΐ΍ΓΙΕ·ϟ΅ΖȱΦ··νΏΝΑǰȱas the title indicates, contains four fragments concerning the creation of angels: 1.ȱ͟ȱΐξΑȱΧ·΍ΓΖȱ̅΅ΗϟΏΉ΍ΓΖȱπΑȱΘϜȱΎ΅Θдȱ΅ЁΘϲΑȱ̴Β΅΋ΐνΕУȱ Basil of Caesarea, Homiliae in hexaemeron., homily 1, section 5. 2. ̆Ε΋·ΓΕϟΓΙȱΘΓІȱ̋ΉΓΏϱ·ΓΙȱ Gregory of Nazianzus, In theophania, ch. 9 and part of ch. 10 3.ȱ̍΅΍Η΅ΕϟΓΙȱΦΈΉΏΚΓІȱ̆Ε΋·ΓΕϟΓΙȱΘΓІȱ̋ΉΓΏϱ·ΓΙȱ Pseudo-Caesarius, Quaestiones et responsiones, ch. 60, ll. 5-6 4.ȱ̝Α΅ΗΘ΅ΗϟΓΙȱ̝ΑΘ΍ΓΛΉϟ΅Ζȱ Anastasius Sinaïta, Viae dux, ch. 4, 1, 4-36 Grouping fragments about a similar subject under a title that contained a keyword that began by the letter in question (for instance, Abraham in stoicheion Alpha of the Flor. Coisl.) was already the method of the SP, which the compiler of the Flor. Coisl. seems to follow closely. Titles in both florilegia differ widely, but the general method for arranging the sections is the same. Even at a glance, it is easy to see that the bulk of the Flor. Coisl. is made up with fragments from other authors. But even though usually the text remains unchanged, there are some minor exceptions: –a word or so is added; –a word is replaced by a synonym; –difficult or incomprehensible words, or sentences not to the point, are omitted. Of course, the intervention of the compiler may blemish the text with a number of mistakes, usually of no great semantic relevance and not always easy to detect.15 Almost always the names of the authors are provided, and the source is quoted verbatim (this explains why this florilegium has proven so useful for the critical edition of many patristic authors). Even the introduction is exceedingly short. One could be tempted to look in it for an explanation of the whole–indeed, the introduction is the only text I have found so far written by the compiler, the only fragment having no source, his only apparition, his only intervention–but the hypothetical reader that looks there for a global statement would be disappointed, ȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱ ȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱ 14

In the Flor. Coisl., the most widely quoted author is John Chrysostom, by a considerable margin: he alone takes about a quarter of the whole florilegium. 15 One example in the first fragment: ̳Αȱ ΦΕΛϜȱ πΔΓϟ΋ΗΉΑȱ ϳȱ ΌΉϲΖȱ ΘϲΑȱ ΓЁΕ΅ΑϱΑаȱ ΘΓΙΘνΗΘ΍Αȱ πΑȱ ΦΕΛϜȱ Θ΅ϾΘϙȱ ΘϜȱ Ύ΅ΘΤȱ ΛΕϱΑΓΑǯȱ ̒Ёȱ ·ΤΕȱ Έχȱ ΘϜȱ Ύ΅ΘΤȱ ΔΕΉΗΆΙ·νΑΉ΍΅Αȱ ΔΣΑΘΝΑȱ ΘЗΑȱ ·ΉΑΓΐνΑΝΑȱ ΔΕΓνΛΉ΍Αȱ ΅ЁΘϲΑȱ ΐ΅ΕΘΙΕЗΑȱ Ών·Ή΍ȱ πΑȱ ΦΕΛϜȱ ·Ή·ΓΑνΑ΅΍… (Bold is used for the text that does not appear in the source, and biblical citations are underlined.) The second ΘϜ has been added by the compiler; it is very easy to realise why it is placed there, and yet it disrupts the syntactic unity of the source, Basil of Caesarea, making the sentence incomprehensible.

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because it is only two or three lines long: ̓ΣΑΘΉΖȱ ΗΛΉΈϲΑȱ Γϡȱ Ύ΅ΘΤȱ ΘχΑȱ ΓϢΎΓΙΐνΑ΋Αȱ ΘϛΖȱ πΎΎΏ΋Ηϟ΅Ζȱ Έ΍ΈΣΗΎ΅ΏΓ΍ȱ ΔκΗ΅Αȱ ΘχΑȱ ΑΓΉΕΤΑȱ Ύ΅Ϡȱ Φ··ΉΏ΍ΎχΑȱ ΚϾΗ΍ΑȱπΎȱΐχȱϷΑΘΝΑȱЀΔϲȱΘΓІȱΔΣΑΘΝΑȱΈ΋ΐ΍ΓΙΕ·ΓІȱΔΕΓϼΚΉΗΘΣΑ΅΍ȱΘΓІΈΉȱΘΓІȱ ΎϱΗΐΓΙȱΈ΍ΈΣΗΎΓΙΗ΍ǯȱAnd although this is the only introduction to the florilegium, it refers only to the first section,16 and not to the anthology as a whole. Herein lies a significant difference from the SP, of course.17 Now a somewhat more detailed comparison between the Flor. Coisl. and the SP will be made, to make clear their similarities and their differences.

III. Sacra Parallela vs. Florilegium Coislinianum The SP are a patristic florilegium divided in three books, the first about God, the second about man, and the third about virtues and vices. The first two books are arranged alphabetically; for the third, virtues are opposed to their corresponding vice (wherefore the title SP, which, strictly speaking, is adequate only for the third book). As it happens, the original SP are not preserved, but a number of Damascenian florilegia, compiled on the basis of this great anthology, contain significant portions of the three books of the original recension.18 Only one of these Damascenian anthologies, the Florilegium Vaticanum, has been printed in its entirety.19 It was Lequien, its editor, who gave the title SP to this florilegium, ȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱ ȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱ 16 That the compiler realised this fact, is plain from the fact that his introduction was actually placed at the beginning of the first section ǻΔΉΕϠȱΈ΋ΐ΍ΓΙΕ·ϟ΅ΖȱΦ··νΏΝΑǼ, as if it were the introduction, not to the whole anthology, but only to this first section. But even though the introduction is pertinent to this first section only, it must be taken into account that it is placed at the very beginning of the whole anthology, and that no other introduction is extant.ȱ 17 For an exhaustive analysis of this introduction, where we can see the compiler’s methodological sophistication in the arrangement of knowledge, see Odorico, “Cultura della ̕ΙΏΏΓ·φǰ” 15-21. 18 Marcel Richard, “Florilèges spirituels grecs” in Dictionnaire de spiritualité ascétique et mystique, vol. 5 (Paris: Beauchesne, 1962-4), coll. 484-6, reprinted in his Opera minora, vol. 1 (Turnhout-Leuven: Brepols University Press, 1976), n° 1, col. 476 : “ce grand ouvrage […] ne s’est pas conservé integralément, mais a donné naissance à une série de collections derivées qui permettent de le reconstituer partiellement.” This extraordinary article of Richard, as will be shown, is still fundamental. 19 Joannes Damascenus. Opera omnia quae exstant, ed. Michel Lequien (Parisiis: Apud Joannem-Baptistam Delespine, 1712). Apart from the Florilegium Vaticanum, what has been published is: on the one hand, the Vatican recension of the second book of the Sacra Parallela, in Angelo Mai, Scriptorum veterum nova collectio, vol. 7 (Rome: typis Vaticanis, 1833), 74-109 = Patrologia Greca 86:2018-100; it includes the short preface, the index, and

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originally simply called ͒ΉΕΣǯȱThe SP, likely compiled in the eighth century, are attributed to John Damascene. This attribution is plausible but by no means absolutely established and, since it does not affect our argument, which would be the same if John Damascene were not the compiler, I will not discuss it here.20 Whereas the SP have, in fact, been universally thought to be the direct antecedent of the Flor. Coisl., their relationship remains controversial. Until recently, when speaking collectively about the SP, many authors numbered the Flor. Coisl. among the remaining Damascenian florilegia. It was Marcel Richard in his “Florilèges spirituels grecs” who clarified the differences between the Damascenian florilegia and the Flor. Coisl.,21 and showed that the latter is not a direct descendant of the SP, although it clearly follows the alphabetical arrangement of the SP, and shares a number of quoted excerpts, as we will presently see. Later florilegia will not be taken into account here, even if they are ȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱ ȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱ ȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱ ȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱ some excerpts. See Richard, “Florilèges spirituels grecs,” col. 478. On the other hand, Lequien has also published the index and some excerpts of the Florilegium Rupefucaldinum, in Joannes Damascenus. Opera omnia quae exstant, ed. Michel Lequien, vol. 2, 731-90 = Patrologia Greca 96:441-544. See Richard, “Florilèges spirituels grecs,” col. 481. For convenience, I shall on occasion speak of the “Sacra Parallela as printed in the Patrologia Greca,” even if I am aware of the precedence of these editors. 20 If on occassion, for convenience, I call “Damascenian florilegia” the works usually included under the denomination “Sacra Parallela,” this should not be taken at face value: it does not mean I embrace the view that John Damascene is the actual compiler. For a view against John Damascene’s authorship (or compilatorship?), see Friedrich Loofs, Studien über die dem Johannes von Damaskus zugeschrieben Parallelen (Halle/Salle: Niemeyer, 1892), 139ff.; and Johannes M. Hoeck, “Stand und Aufgaben der Damaskenos Forschung,” Orientalia Christiana Periodica 17 (1951): 29-30. Karl Holl, very explicitly, gave to his full-scale study on the ͒ΉΕΣȱ ‘Žȱ ’•ŽDZ Die Sacra Parallela des Johannes Damascenus (Leipzig: J.C. Hinrichs’sche Buchhandlung, 1896). Albert Ehrhard, “Zu den ‘Sacra Parallela’ des Johannes Damascenus und dem Florilegium des ‘Maximos’,” Byzantinische Zeitschrift 10 (1901), also considers that John is the compiler of the SP. A number of modern scholars only mentions that this attribution has been brought into question, without clearly taking sides. See for instance James R. Royse, The Spurious Texts of Philo of Alexandria (Leiden: Brill, 1991), 26; Odorico, “Cultura della ̕ΙΏΏΓ·φǰ” esp. 12, n. 4; and Richard, “Florilèges spirituels grecs,” col. 476. At col. 477, while accepting the possibility (in his view unlikely) of Joannes not being the actual compiler of the SP, Richard stresses the “parrainage indéniable de Jean Damascène.” 21 The ambivalent position of the Flor. Coisl. as concerns the Sacra Parallela is clear also here: the florilegium is classified as the tenth and last of Richard’s “florilèges damascéniens,” yet this author states “cet ouvrage [le Flor. Coisl.] n’est pas un florilège damascénien, bien qu’un certain nombre de ses chapitres soient extraits en totalité ou en partie de l’un ou de l’autre des florilèges précédents,” see Richard, “Florilèges spirituels grecs,” col. 484.

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related to the Flor. Coisl. The most conspicuous among these are the Loci communes of Ps.-Maximus the Confessor.22 I would like to present now some very concrete (though, as yet, provisional) results of my research concerning the SP as a source for the Flor. Coisl. As we have seen, both florilegia have such a great structural similarity that it is impossible to think there is no relation between them. The crucial question here is whether the SP were an intermediate source: did the compiler of the Flor. Coisl. copy some of the excerpts he cited from the SP, or did he take them from the original sources and/or other patristic florilegia? I will take as a sample chapter 21 of letter Alpha of the Flor. Coisl., “About the instability of human matters” (̓ΉΕϠȱ ΘϛΖȱ ΦΗΘΣΘΓΙȱ ΘЗΑȱ ΦΑΌΕΝΔϟΑΝΑȱ ΔΕ΅·ΐΣΘΝΑȱΎ΅Θ΅ΗΘΣΗΉΝΖ).23 This is its beginning: ̆ΙΐΑϲΖȱ πΒϛΏΌΓΑȱ πΎȱ ΎΓ΍Ώϟ΅Ζȱ ΐ΋ΘΕϱΖȱ ΐΓΙаȱ Ȧȱ ·ΙΐΑϲΖȱ Ύ΅Ϡȱ ΦΔΉΏΉϾΗΓΐ΅΍ȱ πΎΉϧаȱǽIob 1:21ǾȱȦȱΗΎ΍Τȱ·ΣΕȱπΗΘ΍ΑȱϳȱΆϟΓΖȱψΐЗΑȱǽIob 8:9Ǿǯȱ There is a corresponding title in the SP. It is its tenth chapter: ̓ΉΕϠȱ ΘϛΖȱ ΦΗΘΣΘΓΙȱ Ύ΅Ϡȱ ΦΆΉΆ΅ϟΓΙȱ ΘЗΑȱ ΦΑΌΕΝΔϟΑΝΑȱ ΔΕ΅·ΐΣΘΝΑȱ Ύ΅Θ΅ΗΘΣΗΉΝΖаȱ ǽdzǾǯȱ Its third and fourth excerpts read as follows: ̆ΙΐΑϲΖȱπΒϛΏΌΓΑȱπΎȱΎΓ΍Ώϟ΅ΖȱΘϛΖȱΐ΋ΘΕϱΖȱΐΓΙǰȱȦȱ·ΙΐΑϲΖȱΎ΅ϠȱΦΔΉΏΉϾΗΓΐ΅΍ȱ πΎΉϧǯȱȦȱ͟ȱΆϟΓΖȱΐΓΙȱπΗΘϠΑȱπΏ΅ΚΕϱΘΉΕΓΖȱΏ΅Ώ΍κΖȱǽIob 7:6Ǿǯȱ ̕Ύ΍ΣȱπΗΘ΍ΑȱϳȱΆϟΓΖȱψΐЗΑȱπΔϠȱΘϛΖȱ·ϛΖǯȱ The versets of Iob, not consecutive in the original source, have been welded together in the Flor. Coisl., and put very close to each other in the SP. The influence (or at least the relationship) seems to be clear. Obviously, we would expect that the text of the Flor. Coisl. also follows the SP. Yet a closer scrutiny shows that in this case, as in many others–and against what we could have expected–the compiler of the Flor. Coisl. seems to have drawn directly from the source: the ΘϛΖ before ΐ΋ΘΕϱΖ that we read in the SP is absent from Iob; the ȖΣȡ ȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱ ȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱ 22 We refer the interested reader to Ilse De Vos et al., “L’art de compiler à Byzance.” For editions of the Loci communes, see Sibylle Ihm, Ps-Maximus Confessor. Erste kritische Edition einer Redaktion des sacro-profanen Florilegiums Loci Communes (Stuttgart: Frank Steiner Verlag, 2001). Also helpful is Étienne Sargologos, Florilège Sacro-Profane du Pseudo-Maxime (Hermoupolis-Syros: Typokykladiki, 2001). 23 This is one of the chapters called “wholly Damascenian” by Richard, “Florilèges spirituels grecs,” col. 487. For this author, some chapters are partly Damascenian, some wholly Damascenian, and the rest–actually, the majority–non-Damascenian.ȱ

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that the SP omit, on the contrary, appears both in the Flor. Coisl. and in Iob.24 The Flor. Coisl. may therefore not have used the SP (as printed in the Patrologia Greca (hereafter PG) at least) as an intermediate source, a striking fact that has already been stressed.25 The same happens with many other fragments, and is, so to speak, the general trend: the Flor. Coisl. is often closer to the original source than the SP. We could be tempted to conclude, naturally enough, that the SP were probably no source at all. But, first of all, it would be unwise to draw any textual conclusions on the basis of the PG alone: we cannot even be sure that there are no textual coincidences, so long as the only edition remains that of the PG. On the other hand, only one manuscript of the SP, and not the best, has been published to date. The text of the SP that we find in the PG is far from complete, and still further from philologically sound. Furthermore, the original SP have been lost, and only later recensions are preserved. It is therefore not impossible that the Flor. Coisl., despite not being itself a Damascenian florilegium, has in some places a text closer to that of the original SP than any of the remaining Damascenian florilegia. Let us, then, examine this possibility: that the Flor. Coisl. is here and there closer to the lost SP than any of the remaining Damascenian florilegia. José Declerck, who is preparing a critical edition of the SP, has been so kind as to provide me with his collations of the aforementioned chapter of the SP which closely corresponds to chapter 21 of the Flor. Coisl. (see infra, note 26, to see which manuscripts are concerned); we will have, at least for these fragments, a quite solid philological base. To allow a broader perspective, I will give now an overview of chapter 21 of the Flor. Coisl.: ’•ŽDZȱ̓ΉΕϠȱΘϛΖȱΦΗΘΣΘΓΙȱΘЗΑȱΦΑΌΕΝΔϟΑΝΑȱΔΕ΅·ΐΣΘΝΑȱΎ΅Θ΅ΗΘΣΗΉΝΖ ȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱ ȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱ ŘŚȱWe are aware that this ·ΣΕ is almost useless as regards filiation. José Declerck put it very well (in an attachment to a private e-mail dated June 15, 2008), and since I could not possibly reproduce his precision, I copy his statement in full: “Que le ·ΣΕ manque dans les SP est normal, puisque Iob 8, 9 y constitue un témoignage indépendant: dans ces cas-là, le compilateur a l’habitude de laisser tomber la particule, puisque celle-ci devient inutile, à défaut d'une phrase précédente. Si le compilateur du Flor. Coisl. a tiré les deux citations de Iob des SP, il faut croire que c’est lui qui ait réintroduit le ·ΣΕ, justement pour lier le second fragment au premier. La coïncidence avec la Septante serait alors accidentelle.” 25 See Ilse De Vos et al., “L’art de compiler à Byzance.” Note also that, conversely (and dispensing, for the moment, with external evidence that points in the same direction: the SP are prior in time), the Flor. Coisl. cannot be the source of the SP since it did not cite the πΔϠȱ ΘϛΖȱ ·ϛΖ which, even if in another place, appears in Iob. Yet even if none of these anthologies is derived from one another, the structural similarities between them remain undeniable.

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Excerpt 1: A. Iob 1:21 B. Iob 8:9 Both quoted in the SP (PG 95, col. 1113, 47-9, and col. 1113, 50) Excerpt 2: A. Ecclesiastes 1:2 B. Isaias 40:6 C. Epistula Jacobi, 4:14 D. Ecclesiastes 1:12-14 E. Ecclesiastes 1:16-2:11 A, B, and C: quoted in the SP (PG 95, col. 1116, 13; PG 95, col. 1116, 31-33; PG 95, col. 1117, 11-12); D and E: not quoted. Excerpt 3 Gregory of Nazianzus, Funebris in laudem Caesarii fratris oratio, 19:1:1-19:2:3. Quoted in the SP (PG 95, col. 1124, 14-22). Excerpt 4 Basil of Caesarea, Homiliae super Psalmos, PG 29, col. 221, 209. Quoted in the SP (PG 95, col. 1117, 40-9). Excerpt 5 Ps.-John Chrysostom, In illud: Verumtamen frustra conturbatur, PG 55, col. 559, 14-32. Quoted in the SP (PG 95, col. 1132, 3-22.) Excerpt 6 Attributed to Gregory of Nazianzus. Quoted in the SP (PG 95, col. 1125, 3-5; no ultimate source found). Excerpt 7 Attributed to Nilus Ancyranus. Quoted in the SP (PG 95, coll. 1133, 44-1136, 2; no ultimate source found). Excerpt 8 John Chrysostom, In Eutropium, PG 52, 393, 12-18. Quoted in the SP (PG 95, col. 1128, 30-5).

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For this chapter 21 of the Flor. Coisl., the SP have probably provided: –the alphabetical arrangement around a keyword (constant in the whole anthology); –the title, which, as we have seen, is very similar in both florilegia; –the excerpts to be quoted (if not the text itself of the fragments), with only two exceptions. In fact, it can hardly be thought to be fortuitous that almost all of the fragments of the section existed already in the corresponding section of the SP. We will now analyze a long and significant excerpt: n° 5, Ps.-John Chrysostom, In illud: Verumtamen frustra conturbatur, PG 55, col. 559, 14-32: 1. Flor. Coisl. Sacra Parallela Chrys.

̖΅ΕΣΗΗΉΘ΅΍ȱΩΑΌΕΝΔΓΖȱΎ΅ϠȱΘϲȱΘνΏΓΖȱΦΔϱΏΏΙΘ΅΍а ̖΅ΕΣΗΗΉΘ΅΍ȱΩΑΌΕΝΔΓΖȱΎ΅ϠȱΘϲȱΘνΏΓΖȱΦΔϱΏΏΙΘ΅΍а ̖΅ΕΣΗΗΉΘ΅΍ȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱΎ΅ϠȱΘϲȱΘνΏΓΖȱΦΔϱΏΏΙΘ΅΍а

2. Flor.Coisl. Θ΅ΕΣΗΗΉΘ΅΍ǰȱΎ΅ϠȱБΖȱΐχȱ·ΉΑϱΐΉΑΓΖȱΦΚ΅ΑϟΊΉΘ΅΍аȱ Sacra Parallelaȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱ Θ΅ΕΣΗΗΉΘ΅΍ǰȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱБΖȱΐχȱ·ΉΑϱΐΉΑΓΖȱΦΚ΅ΑϟΊΉΘ΅΍а26ȱ (Chrys. om.) ȱȱ

3. (Flor.Coisl. om.) Sacra ParallelaȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱΘ΅ΕΣΗΗΉΘ΅΍ǰȱΎ΅ϠȱΔΕϠΑȱΎ΅Θ΅ΗΘϛΑ΅΍ȱΎ΅Θ΅ΔΓΑΘϟΊΉΘ΅΍аȱ Chrys.ȱ ȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱΘ΅ΕΣΗΗΉΘ΅΍ǰȱΎ΅ϠȱΔΕϠΑȱΎ΅Θ΅ΗΘϛΑ΅΍ȱΎ΅Θ΅ΔΓΌΉϧΘ΅΍ȉȱ 4. Flor. Coisl.ȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱБΖȱΔІΕȱΦΑ΅Ύ΅ϟΉΘ΅΍ǰȱΎ΅ϠȱБΖȱΎ΅ΏΣΐ΋ȱΦΔΓΘΉΚΕΓІΘ΅΍ȉȱ Sacra Parallela БΖȱΔІΕȱΦΑ΅Ύ΅ϟΉΘ΅΍ǰȱΎ΅ϠȱБΖȱΎ΅ΏΣΐ΋ȱΦΔΓΘΉΚΕΓІΘ΅΍ȉȱ Chrys. БΖȱΔІΕȱΦΑ΅Ύ΅ϟΉΘ΅΍ǰȱΎ΅ϠȱБΖȱΎ΅ΏΣΐ΋ȱΦΔΓΘΉΚΕΓІΘ΅΍ȉȱ 5. Flor. Coisl.ȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱ΅ЁΘΓІȱ΅ϡȱΌΏϟΜΉ΍ΖǰȱΎ΅ϠȱΩΏΏΝΑȱ΅ϡȱΦΔΓΏ΅ϾΗΉ΍Ζаȱ Sacra Parallelaȱȱȱȱȱȱȱ΅ЁΘΓІȱ΅ϡȱΌΏϟΜΉ΍ΖǰȱΎ΅ϠȱΩΏΏΝΑȱ΅ϡȱΦΔΓΏ΅ϾΗΉ΍Ζȉȱ Chrys. ΅ЁΘΓІȱ΅ϡȱΌΏϟΜΉ΍ΖǰȱΎ΅ϠȱΩΏΏΝΑȱ΅ϡȱΦΔΓΏ΅ϾΗΉ΍Ζȉȱ 6. Flor. Coisl. ΅ЁΘΓІȱ΅ϡȱΥΕΔ΅·΅ϠǰȱΎ΅ϠȱΩΏΏΝΑȱ΅ϡȱψΈΓΑ΅ϟа Sacra Parallela: ΅ЁΘΓІȱ΅ϡȱΥΕΔ΅·΅ϠǰȱΎ΅ϠȱΩΏΏΝΑȱ΅ϡȱψΈΓΑ΅ϟȉ ȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱ ȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱ ȱJosé Declerck has been extremely obliging and sent me his unpublished collations of this excerpt. They concern the manuscripts Vat. gr. 1553 (sigl. K); Thessaloniki, Vlatdon 9 (sigl. T); Par.gr. 923 (sigl. P); Venice, B. Marciana gr. 138 (sigl. M); and Rupefucaldinus (Berolin. gr. 46) (sigl. R). This allowed me to check the accuracy of the text published in the Patrologia Greca. In this case, thanks to his aid, we can know that the Ύ΅ϟ omitted by the SP as printed in the Patrologia Greca is extant in KTPMR.ȱ

ŘŜ

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Chrys.:

΅ЁΘΓІȱ΅ϡȱΎ΅ΘΣΕ΅΍ǰȱΎ΅ϠȱΩΏΏΝΑȱ΅ϡȱΌΉΕ΅ΔΉϧ΅΍ȉ

7. Flor. Coisl. ΅ЁΘΓІȱ΅ϡȱΔΉΕ΍ΗΘΣΗΉ΍ΖǰȱΎ΅ϠȱΩΏΏΝΑȱ΅ϡȱΌΉΕ΅ΔΉϧ΅΍аȱȱ Sacra Parallelaȱȱȱȱȱȱȱ΅ЁΘΓІȱ΅ϡȱΎ΅ΘΣΕ΅΍ǰȱΎ΅ϠȱΩΏΏΝΑȱ΅ϡȱΌΉΕ΅ΔΉϧ΅΍аȱȱ Chrys.ȱ ȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱ΅ЁΘΓІȱ΅ϡȱΥΕΔ΅·΅ϠǰȱΎ΅ϠȱΩΏΏΝΑȱ΅ϡȱψΈΓΑ΅ϟаȱ 8. Flor. Coisl. Ύ΅ΘȂȱ΅ЁΘΓІȱΓϡȱΗΘΉΑ΅·ΐΓϠǰȱΎ΅ϠȱΔ΅ΕȂȱοΘνΕΓ΍ΖȱΓϡȱȱȱ ȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱΔΏΉΓΑ΅ΗΐΓϟаȱ Sacra ParallelaȱȱȱȱȱȱȱΎ΅ΘȂȱ΅ЁΘΓІȱΓϡȱΗΘΉΑ΅·ΐΓϠǰŘŝȱΎ΅ϠȱΔ΅ΕȂȱοΘνΕΓ΍ΖȱΓϡȱ ȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱΔΏΉΓΑ΅ΗΐΓϟаȱȱ Chrys. Δ΅ΕȂȱ΅ЁΘХȱϳȱΗΘΉΑ΅·ΐϲΖǰȱΎ΅ϠȱΔ΅ΕȂȱοΘνΕΓ΍ΖȱΓϡȱȱ ȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱΔΏΉΓΑ΅ΗΐΓϟаȱ 9. Flor. Coisl.ȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱΎ΅ϠȱΩΏΏΓ΍ȱΔΓΏΏΣΎ΍ΖȱπΑȱΘΓϧΖȱ΅ЁΘΓІȱΘΕΙΚЗΑΘΉΖȱȱ ȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱΜΣΏΏΓΙΗ΍ǯȱ Sacra ParallelaȱȱȱȱȱȱȱΎ΅ϠȱΩΏΏΓ΍ȱΔΓΏΏΣΎ΍ΖȱπΑȱΘΓϧΖȱ΅ЁΘΓІȱΘΕΙΚЗΑΘΉΖȱȱ ȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱΜΣΏΏΓΙΗ΍ǯŘŞȱ Chrys. ȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱΎ΅ϠȱΩΏΏΓ΍ȱΔΣΏ΍ΑȱπΑȱΘΓϧΖȱ΅ЁΘΓІȱπΑΘΕΙΚЗΗ΍ȱȱ ȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱΜΣΏΏΓΑΘΉΖǯȱ Line 1: ΩΑΌΕΝΔΓΖȱ ˜–’Žȱ ‹¢ȱ ‘›¢œǯ; Line 2: omitted by Chrys.; line 3: omitted by Flor. Coisl. The order of line 6-7 is inverted by Chrys. Line 7, Flor. Coisl. has ΔΉΕ΍ΗΘΣΗΉ΍Ζ, as opposed to Ύ΅ΘΣΕ΅΍ in SP and Chrys. Line 8: Flor. Coisl. and SP have Ύ΅ΘȂȱ ΅ЁΘΓІȱ Γϡȱ ΗΘΉΑ΅·ΐΓϠȱ as opposed to Δ΅ΕȂȱ ΅ЁΘХȱ ϳȱ ΗΘΉΑ΅·ΐϲΖ in Chrys. Line 9: Flor. Coisl. and SP have ΔΓΏΏΣΎ΍Ζ, against ΔΣΏ΍Α in Chrys.; they also have ΘΕΙΚЗΑΘΉΖȱ ΜΣΏΏΓΙΗ΍ against πΑΘΕΙΚЗΗ΍ȱ ΜΣΏΏΓΑΘΉΖ in Chrys. These variants show the textual interdependence between the Flor. Coisl. and the SP. But how can we account for the passages where the Flor. Coisl. cannot have taken the text from the SP as printed in the PG, and where it seems closer to the original source than the SP–which are usually taken to be its intermediary ȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱ ȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱ 27

ȱ ϳȱ ΗΘΉΑ΅·ΐϱΖȱ ms. K. K is the only one of the five aforementioned manuscripts that contains also this part of Chrysostom’s text, since the other four stop some lines before; this proves, of course, that the Flor. Coisl. cannot be a descendant of TPMR. José Declerck points out that it is also unlikely that the Flor. Coisl. is a descendant of K, which is a very peculiar Damascenian florilegium.ȱ 28 Ύ΅ϠȱΩΏΏΓΖȱΔΓΏΏΣΎ΍ΖȱπΑȱΘΓϧΖȱ΅ЁΘΓІȱΎ΅Θ΅ΘΕΙΚλ K.ȱ

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source? To sum up: how can the Flor. Coisl. be a descendant of the SP, if its text is not derived from any of the extant recensions? There are a number of explanations. Three we can dismiss at once: that the numerous parallels we have seen are merely coincidental (impossible to defend: of eight excerpts on chapter 21, only part of the second is not quoted in the SP); that the Flor. Coisl. is the source of the SP: untenable due to chronological considerations, and also to the fact that the SP often have–as we have seen–a better text than the florilegium; that altough the compiler followed the arrangement of the fragments as they appear in the SP, he copied the text every time from the original source. A fourth possibility is the existence of a common source, a collection of patristic citations which would account for the undeniable structural and textual similarities between both florilegia, and also for the fact that, even though the Flor. Coisl. is more recent, it is sometimes closer to the original source than the SP as printed in the PG. Yet nothing indicates that such an intermediate source existed. A short digression is necessary to allow for a more likely explanation. It is natural to think that the SP really are what we read in the PG 95, coll. 1040-1588 and PG 96, coll. 9-441 and 441-544, even though it is known that this is not the original Damascenian compilation. It is necessary to make perfectly clear that the “Sacra Parallela” and the “Sacra Parallela as printed in the PG” are certainly not the same thing; the SP as printed in the PG are not the original Damascenian compilation but one manuscript, and not the best, and in a deficient edition, of the Florilegium Vaticanum, which in turn is only one of the Damascenian florilegia that descend from the SP.29 Once we bear in mind that the SP and the extant Damascenian florilegia are not exactly the same thing, and that, a fortiori, the text of the PG cannot even less be considered to be the SP, it is easy to draw a possible, albeit provisional, conclusion: given the fact that neither is the Flor. Coisl. derived from the SP as printed in the PG (i.e. one manuscript of the Florilegium Vaticanum), nor the SP from the Flor. Coisl., how could their similarities be explained? A plausible answer is that both descend from the SP themselves, the original lost anthology–or one of its non-preserved descendants, more closely related to the original work than those now extant. Even though the Flor. Coisl. is not a Damascenian florilegium, it patently derived some of its material from the original SP, and consequently there is no reason why its text should always be more corrupted than that of the preserved Damascenian florilegia, even if these are purely Damascenian and the Flor. Coisl. ȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱ ȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱȱ 29

Large sections of the Damascenian florilegia have never been printed. The printed SP (see n. 19) represent maybe two thirds of the extant Damascenian florilegia, and the excluded third, as apt to be called “Sacra Parallela” as the sections actually published, remains largely unknown.

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only partly Damascenian. This hypothesis, of course, must be treated with all due caution. For the time being we can only say that the Flor. Coisl. could possibly prove useful in a textual reconstruction of the SP. Nevertheless, before having a critical edition of the SP, it will be impossible for us to judge with any certainty which place, if any, the Flor. Coisl. has in the stemma of the SP. I will end with a citation of Pascal which, due to its great quotability–since it justifies the very act of citing–appears in the works of Roland Barthes and Umberto Eco, among many others, and which would have been to the liking of the compiler of the Flor. Coisl.: Qu’on ne dise pas que je n’ai rien dit de nouveau: la disposition des matières est nouvelle.30

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Pascal, Pensées, ed. Geneviève Lewis (Paris, La bonne compagnie, 1947), 138.

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Roosen, Bram, and Peter Van Deun. “̝ȡİIJχȞ İϢ σȤȠȚȢ ʌΣȞșд ρȟİȚȢ. Byzantine Virtue Speculation: a Case Study.” In Virtutis Imago: Studies on the Conceptualisation and Transformation of an Ancient Ideal, edited by Gert Partoens, Geert Roskam et Toon Van Houdt, Collection d’Études Classiques, 19, 397-422. Leuven: Peeters, 2004.

Secondary Literature Bonwetsch, Gottlieb Nathanael. Methodius. Leipzig: J. C. Hinrichs’sche Buchandlung, 1917. Cameron, Averil. The Mediterranean World in Late Antiquity AD 395-600. London and New York: Routledge, 1993. Cameron, Averil. “Byzantium and the Past in the Seventh Century: The Search for Redefinition.” In The Seventh Century: Change and Continuity, edited by Jacques Fontaine and Jocelyn Nigel Hillgarth, 250-76. London: Warburg Institute, 1992. Dain, Alphonse. “L’encyclopédisme de Constantin Porphyrogénète.” Lettres d’Humanité 12 (1953): 64-81. Ehrhard, Albert. “Zu den ‘Sacra Parallela’ des Johannes Damascenus und dem Florilegium des ‘Maximos’.” Byzantinische Zeitschrift 10 (1901): 394-415. Finley, Moses I. The Ancient Economy. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1973. Hoeck, Johannes M. “Stand und Aufgaben der Damaskenos Forschung.” Orientalia Christiana Periodica 17 (1951): 5-60. Holl, Karl Die Sacra Parallela des Johannes Damascenus. Leipzig: J.C. Hinrichs’sche Buchhandlung, 1896. Kazhdan, Alexander, ed. The Oxford Dictionary of Byzantium, 3 vols. New YorkOxford: Oxford University Press, 1991. Krumbacher, Karl. Geschichte der byzantinischen Literatur, 2 vols. München: Beck, 1897. Lemerle, Paul. “L’encyclopédisme à Byzance à l’apogée de l’empire, et particulièrement sous Constantin VII Porphyrogénète.” Cahiers d'histoire mondiale 9 (1966): 596-616. Lemerle, Paul. Le premier humanisme byzantin. Notes et remarques sur l’enseignement et culture à Byzance des origines au Xe siècle. Paris: Presses universitaires de France, 1971. Lemerle, Paul. Byzantine Humanism, the First Phase: Notes and Remarks on Education and Culture in Byzantium from its Origins to the 10th Century. Translated by Helen Lindsay and Ann Moffatt. Canberra: Australian association for Byzantine studies, 1986.

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Loofs, Friedrich. Studien über die dem Johannes von Damaskus zugeschrieben Parallelen. Halle/Salle: Niemeyer, 1892. Louth, Andrew. St John Damascene. Tradition and Originality in Byzantine Theology. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2004. Odorico, Paolo. “La cultura della ȈȣȜȜȠȖφ.” Byzantinische Zeitschrift 83, n° 1 (1990): 1-21. Richard, Marcel. “Florilèges spirituels grecs.” In Dictionnaire de spiritualité ascétique et mystique, vol. 5, coll. 484-6. Paris: Beauchesne, 1962-4, reprinted in Richard, Marcel, Opera minora, vol. 1, n° 1. Turnhout-Leuven: Brepols University Press, 1976. Royse, James R. The Spurious Texts of Philo of Alexandria. Leiden: Brill, 1991.

THE CIRCULATION OF POETRY IN ELEVENTH-CENTURY BYZANTIUM FLORIS BERNARD In Byzantium, an empire that is not primarily known for the brilliancy of its poetic productions, poetry was nevertheless pervasive in everyday society. At school, pupils got first in touch with poetry in order to learn grammar and other essential knowledge. Worshippers in church expressed their religious feelings by singing poetic liturgical hymns. Metrical inscriptions adorned icons and frescoes. Manuscripts, also those containing prose texts, were covered with epigrams added by the scribes. From between this mass of poetry, some collections of well-known poets emerge. The eleventh century brought forth some poets who are among the most renowned of Byzantium: John Mauropous, Michael Psellos, and Christophoros Mitylenaios. It is the intention of this paper to investigate the ways in which these poems reached their contemporary readers, and to look for the presuppositions with which these readers approached this poetry. By doing this, I want to gain a more clear picture of the reading practices with which the Byzantine public approached this poetry.1 When we encounter these poems, collected in manuscripts, we are in fact beholding the last stage of their life story: preserved, copied out, and gathered together. This appearance makes them differ strongly from the forms of poems mentioned above. However, each poem experienced an eventful history of its own before finally being collected into a manuscript. In what follows, some particular instances of the different stages a poem went through will be demonstrated, from its delivery in its initial setting to a poetry collection in a manuscript. The relationship of the poem with its readers in each of these different contexts will be discussed, and an outline will be given of the particular setting of its reception and circulation. Evidence is scant, however, and a great part of what I will present here, must remain hypothetical.2

1

The term “reading practice” is propagated by Guglielmo Cavallo (pratiche di lettura), cf. most recently in Guglielmo Cavallo, Leggere a Bisanzio, Milano: Edizoni Bonnard, 2007. 2 Research for this paper forms part of a Ph.D. research project on Byzantine poetry from the eleventh century, conducted at Ghent University under the supervision of Kristoffel Demoen, whom I thank for his invaluable suggestions.

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I. A Poetry Book For us, the most familiar guise in which an author presents his poetic works to the reader, is that of the poetry book: a collection of poetry where the separate poems are not only collected, but also purposefully selected, arranged, and placed in meaningful contact with each other. Byzantine poets generally did not intend to compose such a poetry book. However, in the eleventh century, one clear example has survived of a manuscript with the appearance and purpose of a poetry book: the Vaticanus Graecus 676, containing the collected works of John Mauropous, metropolitan of Euchaita. It is an exceptional manuscript in several respects. It dates from the late eleventh century, and as Mauropous died in that very period,3 it must have been written before or not long after the death of the poet. It has been established by Nigel Wilson that it was neither the autograph of Mauropous nor his “master copy”, but a very close copy of this master copy.4 To begin with, the overall appearance of the manuscript shows some peculiarities. Mauropous’s collected works are divided into three great parts: the poems, the letters and the orations. The manuscript consists of 41 quires, each containing eight folia, but the sixth quire, the last quire of the poetry part, counts only two folia.5 Moreover, after the end of the last poem, the remainder of the page is cut off. Apparently, efforts were made to have the end of the quire coincide with this important generic division. Moreover, the book as a whole is encompassed with additional material that intends to present and organise the main body of the text. At the beginning, three loose folia are attached before the first quire. They commence with some verses by Mauropous, which give an introduction to the purpose and circumstances of his works (I will return to these verses shortly). The use of a majuscule type for these verses highlights their function as a “book epigram”, that is, an epigram that is not part of the main text, but offers indications about how the text was written, or how

3

Apostolos Karpozilos, ȈȣȝȕȠȜȒ ıIJȘ ȝİȜȑIJȘ IJȠȣ ȕȓȠȣ țĮȚ IJȠȣ ȑȡȖȠȣ IJȠȣ ǿȦȐȞȞȘ ȂĮȣȡȩʌȠįȠȢ (Ioannina: ĭȚȜȠıȠijȚțȒ ȈȤȠȜȒ ȆĮȞİʌȚıIJȘȝȓȠȣ ǿȦĮȞȞȓȞȦȞ, 1982), 49-50. See also Apostolos Karpozilos, The Letters of Ioannes Mauropous, Metropolitan of Euchaita (Thessalonike: Association for Byzantine Research, 1990), 27, and Alexander Kazhdan, “Some Problems in the Biography of John Mauropous, II,” Byzantion 65 (1995): 363-4. 4 Nigel Wilson, “Books and Readers in Byzantium,” in Byzantine Books and Bookmen: A Dumbarton Oaks Colloquium (Washington D.C.: Dumbarton Oaks, 1975), 13. 5 Paul de Lagarde, introduction to Iohannis Euchaitorum Metropolitae quae in Codice Vaticano Graeco 676 supersunt (Göttingen: Abh. der Hist.-Phil. Kl. der Königl.Gesellschaft der Wiss., 1882), iv.

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it ought to be read.6 After this preface, a table of contents is given. The manuscript has even a kind of blurb: at the end, there is a poem written in another handwriting, in which Mauropous’s secretary, a certain Jesajah, recommends his writings.7 This poem stresses the threefold structure of Mauropous’s collection (poems, letters, and orations), and clearly points to Mauropous as the creator and spiritual father of these writings.8 These additions at the beginning and the end of the manuscript are manifestly not a part of the main body of the text: together, they form the “para-text”, designed to present the collection. The typographic layout of the manuscript is carried out with great care. In the poetry section, there are always 24 verses on one page, and there is an attempt towards justification of the lines. There are even signposts on how to read the poems. In some poems that form fictitious dialogues (as poem 6), the scribe put small dashes in the left margin to indicate a change of speakers. Larger content parts are sometimes highlighted with greater initials. The poems are also consciously arranged by genre: epitaphs, epigrams on works of art, etc. are grouped together in small cycles. Also in its entirety, there are three great parts in the poetry collection, with the last part mirroring the first.9 Also the number of poems–99–is significant: it refers to the word ΦΐχΑ by isopsephy. With these devices, readers are invited to conceive epigrams no longer as separate pieces serving one occasion, but as parts of an architectonic unity. It is clear that the author himself has designed many of these editorial interventions. Mauropous claims this on repeated occasions. In the first poem, he makes clear that he made only a selection of his works, as a “small taste of an abundant flower bouquet” (l. 29) offered to his friends. The last poem bears the title “on the corrected books”. In that poem, Mauropous states that he has rendered the book a service, and has cured the illnesses in it. This refers obviously to a thorough revision in order to accomplish a final product. There are indeed traces to be found of works being revised, before they were copied into the Vat. Gr. 676.10 What is more, this final product is deliberately presented as the representation of the life of the poet. In the first poem, Mauropous emphatically underlines his devotement to ΐνΘΕΓΑ, a notion which means in Greek “moderateness”, but also “metre”. This way, a dedication to an ethical choice is linked to a commitment to 6

Marc Lauxtermann, Byzantine Poetry from Pisides to Geometres. Texts and Contexts, vol. 1 (Wien: Verlag der Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften, 2003), 197-212. 7 de Lagarde, introduction to Iohannis Euchaitorum, iv-v. 8 Wilson, “Books and Readers,” 13 established that the poem was contemporary with the main body of the manuscript, although written by a different hand. 9 For the arrangement of Mauropous’s poetry book, see Lauxtermann, Byzantine Poetry, 625. 10 Mauropous revised some orations before he inserted them in the Vat. Gr. 676. See Rosario Anastasi, “Su Giovanni d’Euchaita,” Siculorum Gymnasium 29 (1976): 22-3.

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write correct poetry. This attachment to “metre” attains a particular twist in the last poem, where Mauropous says that now he has cured the illnesses of his works, but he himself is succumbing to the ΦΐΉΘΕϟ΅ (inequality, unbalance) of his body. The Byzantine ethics of immaterial beauty, procured by the cost of neglect of bodily and worldly values, is imminent here, and by encompassing his collection by this antagonism, it is presented as the achievement of a lifetime project. This impression is reinforced by Mauropous’s careful construction of a poetic persona. Through the personal poems, placed at the end of the collection (poems 89-99), we get to know the poet as a man who wanted nothing but a quiet, meditative life, but eventually got entangled in the vicissitudes of a successful public life. These poems are deliberately presented as afterthoughts to Mauropous’s own life struggles. In poem 91, ll. 42-3, we read: “Guiding myself by these thoughts and reasons, I bring my life to completion.” Poems 92 and 93 are exemplary for the intention of Mauropous to justify his life course with his poetry. Poem 92, entitled “To myself”, is a warning for the unpredictable consequences of a sudden promotion. Poem 93, “Recantation of the previous poem, after his nomination”, effectively refutes poem 92, and describes the forcelessness of men to control his own life course. In view of the way Mauropous uses his poems as exemplifying stages in the presentation of his biography, it is clear that also the other poems, albeit not directly autobiographical, assume for the reader the same exemplifying force. Whatever initial function a poem may have had, it assumes a different meaning when collected in this poetry book: it is a snapshot of a particular situation in Mauropous’s life, subject to later comments or recantations. The Vat. Gr. 676 is in these aspects a unique attempt to present poems within a meaningful whole. But what was its precise relationship with the poetic material like it existed before its compilation? To clarify this problem, I return to the poem by Jesajah at the end of the manuscript. Jesajah presents himself as the ЀΔΓΐΑ΋ΐ΅ΘΓ·ΕΣΚΓΖȱof Mauropous: this designation implies that Jesajah was the personal secretary of Mauropous, entrusted with the task of writing down what Mauropous dictated, and probably also responsible for the original “master copy” of Mauropous.11 As the handwriting here is distinctly different from that of the main text, it is tempting to conclude that this supplementary poem is an autograph of Jesajah. In this case, Mauropous–or the circle of Mauropous’s friends after his death–took care to provide two versions of Mauropous’s poems. The “master copy”, written down by Jesajah, could be a manuscript meant solely to preserve the work, while the Vat. Gr. 676 was designed to circulate and 11

See Anastasi, “Su Giovanni d’Euchaita,” 21. Anastasi presupposes a codex between the “author’s copy” and the Vat. gr. 676. In fact, in the view of Wilson, the “master copy” could be dictated by Mauropous to his secretary, Jesajah.

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copied from, as a kind of “presentation copy”. Its compiler was more of a Ύ΅ΏΏ΍·ΕΣΚΓΖ than a ЀΔΓΐΑ΋ΐ΅ΘΓ·ΕΣΚΓΖ. Jesajah added some poetic blurb to it, perhaps as the supervisor of the project, to heighten the feeling of authenticity. In this poem, appearing in another handwriting, and consequently visibly not a work of Mauropous, the judgement could be pronounced that, for reasons of modesty, could not be pronounced by the poet himself: this collection makes Mauropous the champion of letters, “defeating every other man who makes offerings to Literature” (ll. 27-8)12.

II. Other Poetry Collections However, such a poetry book was a rare thing in Byzantium. Even in the case of Mauropous’s book, it is evident that the poetic programme and unifying organisation are the product of a later editing process. However, there are also some traces to be found of earlier, smaller collections. The first introductory poem to Mauropous’s collection, on the loose folios before the proper collection, still bears testimony to this. The poem has a twofold structure, with two parts that apparently contradict each other. The first 14 lines constitute in itself a seal of Mauropous to his works. The first line reads: “This is the care and the work of John,” a typical phrase to confirm the authorship of a work. The other verses, surprisingly, elaborate the fact that Mauropous is “a man who shuns a second name” (l. 2): he has no honorary function and consequently no further designation name. This is of course absurd at the time of the “edition” of the poems: as a metropolitan of Euchaita, Mauropous could easily refer to this title. The following verses are not readily understandable (ll. 9-14): ̖ϜȱΎΙΕϟθȱΎΏφΗΉ΍ȱΈξȱΎΓΗΐΉϧΘ΅΍ȱΐϱΑϙаȱ ̓ΏχΑȱΉϥȱΘ΍Ζȱ΅ЁΘϲΑȱπΑȱΌΉΓІȱΈ΍΅ΎϱΑΓ΍Ζȱ ΘΣΘΘΝΑǰȱπΎΉϧΌΉΑȱΐΉϟΊΓΑ΅ȱΎΏϛΗ΍ΑȱΑνΐΓ΍ǰȱ ΚνΕΓΙΗ΅ΑȱΓЁΈξΑȱΉϢΖȱΈ΍Σ·ΑΝΗ΍ΑȱΔΏνΓΑǯȱ ̕ϿȱΈЮȱΉϢȱΌνΏΉ΍ΖǰȱΘΕϟΗΗΉΙΉȱΘϲΑȱΘΓІȱ̍Ώ΅ΙΈϟΓΙаȱ ̘ΌϱΑΓΖȱ·ΤΕȱΓЁΈΉϠΖȱΔ΅ΘΕ΍ΎЗΑȱ·ΑΝΕ΍ΗΐΣΘΝΑǯŗř He is only adorned with a personal name, except if someone, by ranging him under the diakonoi of God, 12 13

de Lagarde, introduction to Iohannis Euchaitorum, v. Ibid., iv-v.

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would grant him this way a more elevated designation, which would however not provide any more evidence to identify him. But if you wish, you may give him a third name: “the nephew of the bishop of Claudius”, for there is nothing wrong with family names.14 I take these verses to mean that if someone would have wanted to attribute a more imposing title to Mauropous, he could possibly refer to his function as a Έ΍ΣΎΓΑΓΖ. This could simply mean “servant of God”, that is, a monk, but the Έ΍ΣΎΓΑΓΖ was also a hierarchical title within a monastery, a title we know Mauropous held from around 1030, i.e. from a fairly early stage in his career.15 Mauropous might as well hint here to a possible promotion that is not yet attained, but in any case, he is not a metropolitan at this moment. The designation “the nephew of the bishop of Claudius” points to the Byzantine habit to name persons without major function as nephews of bishops or metropolitans of a certain see, and we know that Mauropous’s uncle was metropolitan of Claudiopolis.16 Then, from lines 15-16, Mauropous states abruptly: ̓ΣΏ΅΍ȱΐξΑȱΓЂΘΝΖǯȱΦΏΏΤȱΑІΑȱΓЂΘΝȱΔΣΏ΍ΑɆȱ ̓Γ΍ΐχΑȱΐξΑȱΓϢΎΘΕϲΖȱ̈ЁΛ΅ϪΘΝΑȱϳȱ·ΕΣΚΝΑǰȱ ̷ΗΘ΍ΑȱΈξȱΎ΅ϠȱΗϾ·ΎΉΏΏΓΖɆ So it was before. But now, it is again like this: the author is not only the pitiful pastor of the Euchaitans, but also synkellos. (…) This appears as an inconsistent change: it makes us wonder whether this poem was written before or after his nomination as metropolitan. The solution is that there are in fact two poems. The edition of de Lagarde is somewhat misleading at this point. In the manuscript there is a cross and some free space to separate these two poems from each other (fig. 7-1).

14

I cordially thank Marc Lauxtermann for his advice on the interpretation of this poem. Evidently, all mistakes remain mine. 15 Karpozilos, ȈȣȝȕȠȜȒ, 27-8. 16 Ibid., 23-4.

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Fig. 7-1: Vat. Gr. 676, fol. iv. Reproduced by permission of the Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana The first poem is in itself a typical “book epigram”, introducing the name of the author obliquely, and adorned with the necessary motives of humbleness. In all likelihood, this poem was used as an introductory poem to an earlier poetry collection. Consequently, we have here two book epigrams for two different poetry collections. The first must have been composed at a time when Mauropous had not yet attained any major bureaucratic or ecclesiastical function, and surely before his honorary exile as a metropolitan of Euchaita. In his ultimate edition, Mauropous took over his “old” preface, the same way modern editors do in subsequent editions. In the second preface, he contrasted the situation back then (ΔΣΏ΅΍) with the situation now. He could have been adduced to do this by a desire to demonstrate the vicissitudes of life, juxtaposing a hidden life free of troubles with a public life full of responsibilities. This opposition, as we mentioned before, is a recurrent theme in his works, and is often exemplified by the adoption of older poems–one need to think only of poem 93, the recantation of poem 92. There is indeed a group of poems in Mauropous’s collection that seem to have been written in an earlier period in the poet’s life. Poems 2 to 26 form a cycle with epigrams on saints and Lord’s feasts. This cycle has a separate heading: “On large depictions of the feasts: in the mode of ekphraseis”, which leads us to presume that Mauropous provided epigrams for church frescoes or manuscript miniatures, one epigram for each depiction. In the last epigram (poem 26), the patron of this project is named: George, brother of the Emperor Michael IV (1034-41), who is referred to in the last line as “the new master of the world”. This cycle has also its own sphragis: in poem 17, a poem on the three hierarchs, the personal patron

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saints of Mauropous, the poet offers his work as a remuneration from the “student and servant John” for his teachers. It is impossible to establish whether it is this particular cycle that circulated with the first introductory poem. But in any case, the poem points to the circulation of an earlier poetry collection during the first half of the eleventh century, when Mauropous was still building up his reputation as a teacher. The poetry collection of Christophoros Mitylenaios is the sole other instance of an eleventh-century poetry collection that presents the poems of one single poet. This collection survived in a badly damaged manuscript from the fifteenth century. Its arrangement principle seems less intricate: all the poems that point to datable events or persons follow each other chronologically, so it is reasonable to assume that the whole collection was arranged chronologically, probably by the poet himself.17 Nevertheless, there were also other criteria of arrangement: throughout the collection, some smaller thematic cycles are discernable. Within these cycles, the poems treat similar themes, but show great variation in metre, form, and length. Such a cycle is the sequence from poem 9 to 11, all dealing with school directors. Poem 9 and 10 are poems in praise of the school of St Theodore, the first in dodecasyllables, the other in hexameters, while poem 11 is a psogos on a competing school director. The same variation in metres and genres are also encountered in other thematic cycles, like the one about the death of Christophoros’s mother (poems 57 to 60). At the same time, it is striking that distinctive genres, like the riddles, are distributed quite evenly throughout the collection. Since it would be fairly absurd to assume that Christophoros should have written a riddle every five years or so, it seems that he–or another compiler– decided to insert them not on a chronological basis, but with the intention of achieving generic variety within the collection.

III. Initial Circulation and Reading Circles It seems thus that small collections of poems went into circulation from fairly early on. This initial circulation is hard to retrieve: the manuscripts with Byzantine poetry that we have today, are essentially the results of collection and preservation. The initial circulation of poetry before this stage must have been much more fragmented and fugitive. In what follows, I will try to elucidate some evidence about this initial circulation.

17

Enrica Follieri, “Le poesie di Cristoforo Mitileneo come fonte storica,” Zbornik radova Vizantoloskog instituta 8 (1964): 135-6.

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Poem 32 of Mauropous is a rather conventional religious epigram consisting only of three verses, meant to be inscribed on a golden depiction of the Crucifixion of Christ, a valuable reliquary perhaps, or a miniature making use of gold dye. ̈ϢΖȱΗΘ΅ϾΕΝΗ΍ΑȱΛΕΙΗϛΑȱ ȱ

̍ΦΑΘ΅ІΌ΅ȱ̙Ε΍ΗΘϱΖȱπΗΘ΍ΑȱЀΔΑЗΑȱπΑȱΒϾΏУǯȱ ΚνΕΉ΍ȱΈξȱΛΕΙΗϲΖȱΘΓІȱΔΣΌΓΙΖȱΘχΑȱΉϢΎϱΑ΅ǰȱ ΦΑΌȂȱΓЈȱΔΕ΅ΌΉϟΖǰȱσΗΝΗΉȱΘΓϿΖȱΎ΅ΘȂȱΉϢΎϱΑ΅ǯ18ȱ ȱ

On a golden crucifixion Also here Christ is sleeping on wood. But the gold represents the image of his Passion; by being sold for this gold, he saved those in the image of God. This epigram, on the surface, justifies the use of gold for this depiction of Christ’s Crucifixion: it was the price for which Christ himself was betrayed, and thus the price he paid for the salvation of mankind. Consequently, the cross is nothing more than an image, just as mankind is nothing more than the image of God. It is a conventional epigram in that it exploits an antithetical relation between the material representation of the religious object and the immaterial meaning of the religious subject. The next epigram (poem 33) has this title: “Against the man who criticised the verse ΦΑΌȂȱ ΓЈȱ ΔΕ΅ΌΉϟΖ, because the preposition is not rightly construed.” Apparently, a contemporary had found fault with a grammatical issue in the previous poem. He remarked that the verb “sell” (ΔνΕΑ΋ΐ΍) should be followed by a genitive case, instead of the preposition ΦΑΘϟ, like in poem 32 of Mauropous. In the poem 33 itself, Mauropous attacks his opponent, and justifies his choice to represent the betrayal of Christ as a sale, by using the preposition ΦΑΘϟ.19 The question that might be raised is how this criticaster got to read this epigram, and how he knew it was authored by Mauropous. He could have read the verses while looking at the golden crucifixion in question. But since inscriptions are generally anonymous, he must have known by some other way that the verses were of Mauropous’s hand, thus being led to direct his critique to Mauropous personally. Besides, it is far from certain that poems like this were really always 18

de Lagarde, Iohannis Euchaitorum, 17-18. For this poem, see Rosario Anastasi, “Giovanni d’Euchaita e gli ȈțİįȚțȠȓ,” Siculorum Gymnasium 24 (1971). 19

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inscribed, as the genre of the epigram has the tendency to imitate its initial circumstances. For our purpose, it is interesting to note that the poem solicited response from readers the poem initially did not intend to address: after all, the epigram had superficially only the function to provoke devoutness. This reader, however, read the poem detached from this context, as a piece of literature that could be commented upon like at school. That his reader was a teacher is evident from the verse “O, how great is the hair splitting of teachers!” (l. 17), and the remark that this schoolmaster applied schedography as an educational exercise (l. 33). In Christophoros’s collection, there is a group of poems (75-77) related to the death of the poet’s sister. Following this group, there is a poem with this title: “For the teacher Petros, who had asked for the funeral iambs on his sister, but who kept them [the iambs] a long time, and had not yet returned them.”20 These funeral iambs refer to poem 77, in which Christophoros mourns the death of his sister Anastaso. In poem 78, Christophoros asks in jest if Petros perhaps had found some lotus in his verses, and asks his verses back. This situation bears testimony to the aptitude of Byzantine poems to switch contexts. Poem 77, addressed to his sister, refers explicitly to an oral delivery at her funeral. For instance, at a certain point, allegedly in search for words, the poet cries out in person to his sister: “Which words will I find for you?” (l. 49). In spite of this appearance, Christophoros readily lent out these verses to an outsider of this intimate occasion, and he was probably aware of this interest when he composed these verses. He did not in any way publish his verses, nor did he initiate the circulation, as Petros had asked himself for the verses. Since Christophoros asks them to be returned, it is reasonable to conclude that Christophoros did not have many copies in hand. The story has an appendix: Petros apparently read the verses, and returned them, but not without lavishing some compliments on the poet.21 Christophoros reacted, again with a poem (poem 79), entitled: “Other verses for the same (Petros), who had sent the verses back.” The poem is badly damaged, but we can infer that Petros’s comments praised the original and variegated style of the poem. These two examples of poets answering on readers’ comments allow us to imagine a circle of readers, commenting upon each other’s writings and addressing poems in answer to each other. Within this tight social context, it is only logical 20

Eduard Kurtz, ed., Die Gedichte des Christophoros Mitylenaios (Leipzig: August Neumanns Verlag, 1903), 51 (poem 78). 21 Lauxtermann, Byzantine Poetry, 46 states that Petros’s marvel at Christophoros’s skills while he was mourning, is in fact a veiled criticism for the insincerity of his mourning. Lauxtermann’s subsequent remark that such a criticism is rare in Byzantium, is for me the very reason to doubt that it was really present at all in Petros’s comment. The remainder of Christophoros’s answer sounds to me like a typical humble response to flattery remarks.

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that these readers strove to prove that they were experienced readers. In both of these cases, the poems that were subject of the debate promptly lost all connection with their original occasion–or originally intended occasion. The apparent relationship between the persona of the poet and the addressee, so carefully maintained in the poem itself, is broken up, and the texts become something like school texts, scrutinised on grammatical and/or rhetorical issues. It is surely no coincidence that both the reader of Mauropous’s epigram and Petros, the reader of Christophoros’s poem, were teachers: these were the persons who took interest in poetry, and engaged in commenting upon it. As members of the intellectual elite, they tried hard to prove their competence as teachers and experienced readers. Another case of circulation of poetry, albeit abortive, is documented by a poem of Christophoros entitled “To Basileios, the so-called Choirinos [literally: “piggish”], who often asked for his writings” (poem 84). This answer of Christophoros on Choirinos’s request is a typical sample of Christophoros’s talent for satire: it abuses Choirinos’s name, and has a pun on the double meaning of ΎΉΕΣΘ΍ΓΑ (carob, a food loved by pigs, but also the proverbial “horns” when a wife cheats on her husband): ̈ϢΖȱ ΘϲΑȱ ̅΅ΗϟΏΉ΍ΓΑȱ ΘϲΑȱ ΏΉ·ϱΐΉΑΓΑȱ ̙Γ΍Ε΍ΑϱΑǰȱ ΔΓΏΏΣΎ΍Ζȱ ΅ϢΘφΗ΅ΑΘ΅ȱ πΎȱΘЗΑȱΗΙ··Ε΅ΐΐΣΘΝΑȱ΅ЁΘΓІǯȱ ȱ

̖ϟȱΔΓΏΏΤȱ·ΕϾΊΉ΍ΖȱΘΓϿΖȱπΐΓϿΖȱΊ΋ΘЗΑȱΏϱ·ΓΙΖȱ Ύ΅ϠȱȍΗ΅ϧΖȱ·Ε΅Κ΅ϧΖȱΌΕνΜΓΑȱΐΉȎȱΗΙΛΑЗΖȱΐΓ΍ȱΏν·Ή΍ΖDzȱ ΩΔΉΏΌΉȱΔϱΕΕΝȉȱΛΓϧΕΓΖȱΓЁȱΘΕЏ·Ή΍ȱΐνΏ΍ȉȱȱ σΛΉ΍ΖȱΆ΅ΏΣΑΓΙΖȱΈΉϧΔΑΓΑǰȱΉϢȱΆΓϾΏΉ΍ǰȱΚϟΏΓΑȉȱ ΪΑȱΓЇΑȱΐΣΏ΍ΗΘ΅ȱΎ΅ϠȱΎΉΕ΅ΘϟΝΑȱΈνϙǰȱ ψȱΗϾΊΙ·ΓΖȱΔΏφΗΉ΍ȱΗΉȱΎ΅ϠȱΎΉΕ΅ΘϟΝΑǯ 22ȱ Why do you growl so much, asking for my words, and often telling me: “Feed me with your writings”? Go away from here: a pig does not eat honey. You have acorns, your favourite dinner, if you want. If you should need “horns” too, your wife will provide you with those “horns”. Observing this effective gibe, it becomes evident that poems initially circulated in limited circles, and the poet decided to whom he lent his works. Being entitled

22

Kurtz, Christophoros Mitylenaios, 53-4 (poem 84).

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to borrow or receive a work implied membership to these groups. With epigrams like this, Christophoros delimits firmly the extent of these inner circles. Conversely, it was also an honour for the author if an influential friend kept copies of his letters and other works. Michael Psellos, the great intellectual of the eleventh century, points to this in a letter to his influential protector John Doukas, who is said by Psellos to have “attached great importance to my letters, and stored my writings in his books”.23 This custom of John Doukas is seen by Psellos as a token of friendship. It seems thus that literature circulated along the lines of friendship connections. Christophoros’s refusal to allow Basileios to read his poems, is at the same time a refusal to admit him to his inner circle of friends.

IV. A Poetic Event Until so far, we have only dealt with poems that were read and appreciated in a different context than the context the poem referred to. Moreover, these readers were not the originally intended readers, and surely they did not respond as such. In the following example, I will concentrate on a case where one can reconstruct partially the original setting in which a poem was delivered to its addressee. Poem 55 of Mauropous is addressed to two empresses: Zoe, married to Emperor Constantine IX Monomachos (1042-1055), and her sister Theodora. The poem, as printed in the modern edition, begins with these two verses: ̇΍ΗΗ΅ϧΖȱΦΑΣΗΗ΅΍Ζȱ΅ЁΘ΅ΈνΏΚ΅΍Ζȱ̄Ё·ΓϾΗΘ΅΍Ζȱ ΈЏΕ΋ΐ΅ȱΎΓ΍ΑϲΑȱπΒȱοΑϲΖȱΈΓϾΏΓΙȱΘϱΈΉǯŘŚ To the two sisters Augustae and mistresses, this shared gift from one servant. In the manuscript, these lines clearly stand out from the rest of the poem (fig. 7-2). They are not written in minuscule letters, like the main body of the text, but in majuscules. The eye-catching majuscule font is only used for titles and, particularly, for accompanying “book epigrams.” These two lines form such a dedicatory epigram: it humbly offers the object to the patron. These features make this epigram fairly similar to other dedicatory epigrams like those on objects of art. It is therefore likely that the entire poem was, just as other dedicated objects, offered to its patrons materially. Here we could imagine the poem offered in the 23 Eduard Kurtz and Franz Drexl, eds, Michaelis Pselli Scripta Minora, vol. 1 (Milano : Vita e pensiero, 1941), 303 (letter 256). 24 de Lagarde, Iohannis Euchaitorum, 32-3 (poem 55).

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form of a small roll, with this elegant epigram attached in order to designate the dedication.

Fig. 7-2: Vat. Gr. 676, fol. 26v. Reproduced by permission of the Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana The poem itself–from line three in the edition–starts with a greater initial (a large epsilon). It is initially directed to the “mistress” of the poet, who according to my view is to be identified with Theodora. This identification is supported by the change of addressees at line 10: ΦΏΏȂȱИȱΐΉ·ϟΗΘ΋ȱΎΙΕϟ΅ȱΘΓІȱΑІΑȱ·νΑΓΙΖȱ ǻΔΕϲΖȱ·ΤΕȱΗξȱΘΕνΜΝȱΘϲΑȱΆΕ΅ΛϿΑȱΘΓІΘΓΑȱΏϱ·ΓΑǰȱ ΎΪΑȱΐχȱΆΏνΔΉ΍ΑȱσΛΝȱΗΉǰȱΔЗΖȱΈνΛϙȱΘΣΈΉǼǰȱ ИȱΘЗΑȱΘΓΗΓϾΘΝΑȱπΎ·ϱΑ΋ȱΆ΅Η΍ΏνΝΑ But oh you greatest mistress of the present people, (for now I turn this short oration to you, even if I cannot see how you will receive this) oh descendant of so great emperors, … Here surely Zoe is addressed, because her name is hinted at later on at line 21. Theodora reappears as her sister from line 27, and there again, as in the third line, she is referred to as “my mistress”. It is noteworthy that Mauropous says explicitly that he will not see how Zoe will receive his poem. This implies that Theodora, conversely, was present, at what must have been a delivery of the poem. If the delivery of the poem were only a fictional setting, there would be no point in mentioning that Zoe was absent. This reveals an oral delivery of the poem, possibly by the poet himself, in front of the dedicatees of the poem. In this case the “I” in the poem, the poet, and the “you”,

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the addressee, refer to a real situation. Mauropous, a renowned court orator at this time, paid here a literary service for his patrons. He handed down the poem as a precious material object, not without a short elegant epigram clearly confirming the dedication. Simultaneously, the poem was delivered orally in the presence of both the poet and one of the recipients. There is other evidence from the eleventh century for poems being handed over materially to their dedicatees. Michael Psellos’s poem on rhetoric (poem 7), was according to the lemma in the most important manuscript, dedicated to Michael Doukas by order of Michael’s father, Emperor Constantine X Doukas (1059-67), along with a poem on grammar. In a sudden authorial remark, Psellos asks the emperor (ll. 287-90): ΗϿȱΈȂȱσΛΉȱΐΓ΍ȱΘχΑȱΗϾΑΓΜ΍ΑǰȱΉϨΘȂȱπΕЏΘ΅ȱΌ΅ΕΕΓϾΑΘΝΖǰȱ ΎΦ·ЏȱΗΓ΍ȱΘχΑȱΈ΍ΣΏΙΗ΍ΑȱΏνΒΝȱΘΓІȱΊ΋ΘΓΙΐνΑΓΙǯȱ ΉϨΘȂȱΓЁȱΌ΅ΙΐΣΊΉ΍ΖǰȱΈνΗΔΓΘ΅ǰȱΘΓІȱ·ΕΣΚΓΑΘΓΖȱΘχΑȱΘνΛΑ΋Αǰȱȱ ΪΑȱσΛϙΖȱΉϢΏ΋ΘΣΕ΍ΓΑȱΆΕ΅ΛϿȱΘϛΖȱϵΏ΋ΖȱΘνΛΑ΋ΖDzŘś Keep this survey, please, and do not be afraid to ask questions afterwards: I will give you the solution for your problem. And don't you marvel, my lord, at the skill of the author, now that you have a small booklet of the whole discipline? From this remark we can infer that Psellos offered this poem materially, in the form of a small booklet, just like Mauropous did with his poem for the empresses. The term ΉϢΏ΋ΘΣΕ΍ΓΑ is of particular interest: Psellos states elsewhere that these small rolls contained his first drafts, before these were bundled together into books (Ά΍ΆΏϟ΅).26 This would support the view that first circulation was primarily in the form of small leaflets. In any case, this written communication does not exclude an oral aspect: the addressee could still ask questions in person, supplementary to the written text. Offering and receiving a poem, I would suggest, is an event which implicates both a visual and an auditive aspect.

25

The poems of Psellos are edited in: Leendert Westerink, ed., Michaelis Pselli Poemata (Stuttgart/Leipzig: Teubner, 1992). 23 Psellos’s remark is to be found in his work ̓ΉΕϠȱ Ύ΅΍ΑЗΑȱ ΈΓ·ΐΣΘΝΑȱ Ύ΅Ϡȱ ϵΕΝΑȱ ΘЗΑȱ ΑΓΐ΍ΎЗΑȱ ϹΝΐ΅ϞΗΘϠȱ ΏΉ·ΓΐνΑΝΑȱ ΏνΒΉΝΑ, edited in: Jean-François Boissonade, ed., Michael Psellus De operatione daemonum (Norimbergae: apud F.N. Campe, 1838), 116. See also Basile Atsalos, La terminologie du livre-manuscrit à l’époque byzantine. Première partie: Termes désignant le livre-manuscrit et l’écriture (Thessalonike : ǼIJĮȚȡİȓĮ ȂĮțİįȦȞȚțȫȞ ȈʌȠȣįȫȞ 1971), 168-9.

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V. Conclusions A Byzantine poem went through different stages of circulations. Sometimes, we can discern a particular example where we can reconstruct the initial setting, that is, a discursive situation where the poet speaks directly to his addressees. Scant evidence leads us to presume that in some of these poetic events, oral performance went hand in hand with the presentation of a written text of the poem to the dedicatee. From fairly early on, however, texts went into circulation by being lent and borrowed within a limited circle of friends of the author. The poem was instantly detached of its tight referential situation, and the standards by which the members of these circles read each other’s literary products, were the standards provided by a shared school curriculum. After this stage, poems could be collected into what one could call “presentation copies”. The Vat. Gr. 676 is arguably such a presentation copy. In this poetry book, the poems serve yet another purpose: they are the building elements in a construction designed to document and justify the poet’s course of life.

Bibliography Primary Sources Boissonade, Jean-François, ed. Michael Psellus de operatione daemonum. Norimbergae: apud F.N. Campe, 1838. Kurtz, Eduard, ed. Die Gedichte des Christophoros Mitylenaios. Leipzig: August Neumanns Verlag, 1903. Kurtz, Eduard, and Franz Drexl, eds. Michaelis Pselli Scripta Minora. 2 vols. Milano: Vita e Pensiero, 1936-41. de Lagarde, Paulus, ed. Iohannis Euchaitorum Metropolitae quae in Codice Vaticano Graeco 676 supersunt. Göttingen: Abh. der Hist.-Phil. Kl. der Königl. Gesellschaft der Wiss., 1882. Westerink, Leendert, ed. Michaelis Pselli Poemata. Stuttgart/Leipzig: Teubner, 1992.

Secondary Literature Anastasi, Rosario. “Giovanni d’Euchaita e gli ȈțİįȚțȠȓ.” Siculorum Gymnasium 24 (1971): 61-9. Anastasi, Rosario. “Su Giovanni d’Euchaita.” Siculorum Gymnasium 29 (1976): 19-49.

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Atsalos, Basile. La terminologie du livre-manuscrit à l’époque byzantine. Première partie: Termes désignant le livre-manuscrit et l’écriture. Thessalonike: EIJĮȚȡİȓĮ ȂĮțİįȠȞȚțȫȞ ȈʌȠȣįȫȞ, 1971. Cavallo, Guglielmo, Leggere a Bisanzio. Milano: Edizioni Bonnard, 2007. Follieri, Enrica. “Le poesie di Cristoforo Mitileneo come fonte storica.” Zbornik radova Vizantoloskog instituta 8 (1964): 133-48. Karpozilos, Apostolos. The Letters of Ioannes Mauropous, Metropolitan of Euchaita. Thessalonike: Association for Byzantine Research, 1990. Karpozilos, Apostolos. ȈȣȝȕȠȜȒ ıIJȘ ȝİȜȑIJȘ IJȠȣ ȕȓȠȣ țĮȚ IJȠȣ ȑȡȖȠȣ IJȠȣ ǿȦȐȞȞȘ ȂĮȣȡȩʌȠįȠȢ. Ioannina: ĭȚȜȠıȠijȚțȒ ȈȤȠȜȒ ȆĮȞİʌȚıIJȘȝȓȠȣ ǿȦĮȞȞȓȞȦȞ, 1982. Kazhdan, Alexander. “Some Problems in the Biography of John Mauropous, II.” Byzantion 65 (1995): 362-87. Lauxtermann, Marc. Byzantine Poetry from Pisides to Geometres. Texts and Contexts. Vienna: Verlag der Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften, 2003. Wilson, Nigel. “Books and Readers in Byzantium.” In Byzantine Books and Bookmen: A Dumbarton Oaks Colloquium, 1-15. Washington D.C.: Dumbarton Oaks, 1975.

Part IV: Politics and Rhetoric

ADVICE AND PRAISE FOR THE RULER: MAKING POLITICAL STRATEGIES IN MANUEL II PALAIOLOGOS’S DIALOGUE ON MARRIAGE FLORIN LEONTE Often regarded primarily as a theologian and skillful rhetorician, Manuel II Palaiologos (1391-1425) approached in his œuvre a much wider scope of topics and genres. In terms of genres, he was equally interested in composing brief ekphraseis as well as extended treatises or orations. In terms of subject matters, apart from the literary and religious topics, Manuel seems also to have been interested in practical and theoretical questions of state administration. Not to mention his epistolary output: five of his most known works deal explicitly with such topics: The Admonitory Discourse to the Thessalonians,1 The Dialogue on Marriage with the Empress-Mother,2 The Precepts of an Imperial Education,3 The Seven Ethico-Political Orations,4 and the Funeral Oration for his Brother Theodore, Despot of Morea.5 These texts written over a time span of almost forty years, though not always very original, prove a continuity of thought and concern rarely equaled in the history of Byzantine political thought. In this paper I will examine one of these texts, The Dialogue with the Empress-Mother on Marriage by first looking into the messages Manuel aimed to convey to his audience. Secondly, I will discuss the rhetorical strategies which Manuel used in order to

1

Basil Laourdas, “ȱ ̕ΙΐΆΓΙΏΉΙΘ΍ΎϱΖȱ ΔΕΓΖȱ ΘΓΙΖȱ ̋ΉΗΗ΅ΏΓΑ΍ΎΉϟΖȱ ΘΓΙȱ ̏΅ΑΓΙφΏȱ ̓΅Ώ΅΍ΓΏϱ·ΓΙȱ [Manuel II Palaiologos’s Admonitory Oration to the People of Thessalonica],” ̏΅ΎΉΈΓΑ΍ΎΣ 3 (1955): 290-307 2 Claudio Bevegni, Manuelis Palaelogi Dialogus de matrimonio (Catania: Centro di studi sull’antico cristianesimo, 1989); Manuel II Palaiologos, Dialogue with the Empress-Mother on Marriage, ed. and trans. Athanasios Angelou (Vienna: Verlag der Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften, 1991). 3 Patrologia Graeca 156:313-84. 4 Patrologia Graeca 156:385-562. 5 Manuel II Palaiologos, Funeral Oration for his Brother Theodore, ed. and trans. Julian Chrysostomides (Association for Byzantine Studies: Thessalonica, 1985).

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validate his position of power and, finally, I will attempt to place this text in the wider context of the emperor’s literary work.

I.

The Dialogue: Date and Composition

Before turning to the discussion of these issues, I will briefly talk about the works date and composition. The Dialogue was authored around 1396,6 during the first years of a long Ottoman blockade of Constantinople. It was thoroughly revised by the author himself in a composite manuscript dated after 1417.7 In a recent article, Małgorzata Dąbrowska argued that Manuel intended the revision as an encouragement to his successor, John VIII (1425-48), to marry and have inheritors to the throne. This is a highly probable supposition, since Codex Vindobonensis 98 comprises, along with the latest version of the Dialogue, two other texts dedicated to John VIII: Praecepts of an Imperial Education and the Seven Ethico-Political Orations.8 In the Introduction to the critical edition of the dialogue,9 Athanasios Angelou puts forth the hypothesis that the dialogue reflects a real dispute between the emperor and his mother concerning marriage. The scholar argues that the text mirrors Helena’s anxiety regarding Manuel’s actual reluctance to marry, for the latter did not get married until the age of forty-two.10 This was a very late age for the Byzantine standards of imperial marriages.11 In addition, the image of a well 6

1396 is the terminus ante quem of the dialogue, the date of the letter which Manuel sent to Demetrios Kydones together with the text. However, 1394 seems also a plausible date as Manuel refers to the sudden break of the treaty with Bayazid (1389-1402) occurring in 1394. More details are provided by Athanasios Angelou, introduction to Dialogue with the Empress-Mother on Marriage, by Manuel II Palaiologos (Vienna: Verlag der Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften, 1991), 20. 7 Parisinus graecus 3041; in addition to the revised Dialogue, the Parisinus comprises other texts by Manuel as well: letters, prayers and various rhetorical short exercises. The other manuscript comprising the Dialogue is Vindobonensis phil. Gr 98. 8 Małgorzata Dąbrowska, “Ought One to Marry? Manuel II Palaiologos’s Point of View,” Byzantine and Modern Greek Studies 31 (2007): 146-56. 9 Angelou, introduction to Dialogue, 56-7. 10 Reinert has put forth a similar conjecture. See Stephen W. Reinert, “Political Dimensions of Manuel II Palaiologos’s 1392 Marriage and Coronation,” in Novum Millennium. Studies on Byzantine History and Culture dedicated to Paul Speck, eds Claudia Sode et al. (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2001), 291-302. 11 Since many of them served as pawns in political exchanges, the members of the imperial family married usually at a very young age. For instance, John V Palaiologos (1341-76, 1379-90, 1390-1) married at the age of sixteen, while Helena, his wife and Manuel’s mother, married at the age of twelve.

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cultivated woman ascribed to his mother corresponds entirely to reality. Helena Palaiologina Kantakouzena, the daughter of John VI Kantakouzenos (1347-53) and the wife of John V Palaiologos (1341-76, 1379-90, 1390-1), was a writer herself. In one of his letters, Demetrios Kydones (1324-97), praises the young princess for the πΔ΍ΑϟΎ΍Γ΍ȱ Ώϱ·Γ΍ which she composed in honor of her father’s victories12 Her role in organising meetings of the circles of late fourteenth-century Byzantine literati can hardly be underestimated. On the one hand she participated in the debates related to the hesychastic movement supporting Gregory Palamas (1296-1359), and especially his close friend, the Patriarch Philotheos Kokkinos (1353-4, 1364-76).13 On the other hand she protected antihesychasts like Nikephoros Gregoras (c. 1295-1360) and Demetrios Kydones. The latter one, who was an open opponent of Philotheos and became Manuel’s tutor, documented Helena’s patronage in six letters addressed to her, in which he acknowledged the material and intellectual benefits he received from her.14 These observations indicate that the Dialogue was not just another piece of rhetoric intended exclusively for the entertainment of a gathering of connoisseurs from the imperial court. It very much pertains to real aspects of state administration with serious implications in late Byzantium. Certainly, there is a touch of courtly pleasantry: the dialogue begins and ends in a playful manner while it indulges frequently in allusions to the private lives of the dialogists. However, despite this surface playfulness, the characters involved in the dialogue show an acute awareness of political and social problems. Manuel dedicated the Dialogue on marriage to the aforementioned Demetrios Kydones to whom the emperor sent it together with a letter.15 Kydones was an 12

Letter 389, composed in 1347-52, Demetrios Kydones, 'pPptrius &\GRQqs Correspondance, ed. Raymond Joseph Loenertz (Vatican: Bibliotheca Apostolica Vaticana, 1960). 13 Kokkinos dedicated a theological treatise to her, On Beatitudes, most probably in order to acknowledge Helena’s efforts to promote hesychasm. However, her attitude regarding the Union of the Orthodox and Catholic Churches must have been more moderate, since Paul of Thebes, the Latin archbishop of Thebes and Athens, praised her in a letter for being favourable to the union of the two Churches. In Oskar Halecki, Un empereur de Rome à Byzance (London: Variorum Reprints, 1972) 117. 14 In Letter 222, while praising Helena’s deeds, Demetrios says that he received many gifts and positions in the imperial court. He acknowledges her action in Letters 25, 256, 134, and 143. For a discussion of Kydones’s letters to Helena see Frances Kianka, “The Letters of Demetrius Kydones to Empress Helena,” Dumbarton Oaks Papers 46 (1992): 155-65. 15 Letter 62 in Manuel II Palaiologos, The Letters of Manuel Palaiologos, ed. and trans. George T. Dennis (Washington D.C.: Dumbarton Oaks Texts, 1977). Manuel wrote the letter in 1396 while in Constantinople; he urged Demetrios, who was in Northern Italy, to return to the capital. The letter echoes the difficult moments of the Ottoman blockade (1394-1402).

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influential scholar and high-ranking official at the Byzantine court of the second half of the fourteenth century and had strong connections with the Latin West. But by the time Manuel finished and sent the text, in 1396, Kydones was very old, for we have no reaction left from him. It was otherwise a usual practice to send texts to friends who were then asked to comment on them. We also have no clear information regarding the performance of the dialogue in a theatron. However there are several allusions to a public which could have assisted to the reading.16 On the other hand, the fact that Manuel recopied and revised the text after 1417 indicates that he envisaged its significance beyond the immediate purpose of a recitation in a courtly gathering. The choice of the dialogic genre for conveying a strong political message might seem slightly odd. Unlike many other classical genres, there was no handbook for how to write a dialogue. Although a connection with the new kinds of dialogue developed by Humanist writers in Western Europe cannot be established by any means, Manuel’s text reveals several interesting parallels. First, just like the humanists, the emperor skillfully combines rhetorical art with political matters.17 Secondly, the private sphere takes up a lot of space in the dialogue. And thirdly, the disposition of his arguments is radically new when compared to any other late Byzantine dialogue. Manuel’s characters show a more personal approach by using frequently short and medium length interventions; they address the arguments pertaining to the utility of marriage without many embellishments and, quite surprisingly for a Byzantine rhetorical text, their remarks are very much to the point. In contrast, his other dialogic text, The Dialogues with a Muslim, stages very long interventions where the discussants give full accounts of their theological views. Likewise, in the famous mid-fourteenth-century Dialogue between the Rich and the Poor, the author, Alexios Makrembolites, leaves almost no room for dramatisation. His preoccupation with maximising the “poor’s” argumentation makes of the “rich” a bogus interlocutor. One would also expect an approach more oriented towards orality in the Palaiologan vernacular dialogues like the Poulologus or the Entertaining Tale of Quadrupeds; however, these texts rather juxtapose long discourses displaying their authors’ political views. Manuel seems thus to bridge quite successfully orality and highbrow literacy. He combines the elements of a day-to-day conversation with the technicalities of 16

For instance in line 758, Manuel II Palaiologos, Dialogue, 102DZȱϊΈ΍ΗΘΓΑȱ·ΤΕȱΚ΅ϟΑΉΘ΅΍ȱ ΔκΗ΍ȱ Θϲȱ ΌΉ΅ΘΤΖȱ Ύ΅ΌΉΊΓΐνΑΓΙΖȱ ύȱ ΔΕ΅·ΐ΅Θ΍ΎЗΖȱ ύȱ ΏΓ·΍ΎЗΖȱ ΔΓΏΉΐΓІΑΘ΅Ζȱ ΓЀΗΘ΍Α΅ΗΓІΑȱΎ΅ΌΓΕκΑǯȱ 17 This is usually identified as a central feature of humanist dialogues. For a general discussion of the main features in the Humanist dialogue, see François Rigolot, “Problematising Renaissance Exemplarity: The Inward Turn of Dialogue from Petrarch to Montaigne,” in Printed Voices: The Renaissance Culture of Dialogue, eds Dorothea B. Heitsch and Jean-François Vallée (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2004), 3-23.

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rhetorical argumentation. Though at a first glance, the Atticising language of the dialogue may lead to the idea that the text is just another piece of artificial Byzantine writing, the allusions to familiar situations, the mutual flatteries between a mother and her son, or Manuel’s playful attitude from the beginning reveal a vivid conversation. And while high literacy surfaces in the learned allusions to ancient realia,18 orality is mostly perceivable in the ways the author constructs large sections of the dialogue in the form of a quick succession of interventions containing mostly questions and answers. Structurally, the Dialogue on marriage does not provide enough ground for a division into clear-cut separate sections. Roughly, the dialogue may be divided into an introductory conversation (lines 1-300), and the discussion proper on the utility of marriage in an emperor’s life. The discussion is restricted to a single topic and the speakers, when divagating, do not develop very complex arguments but always return to the same topic. Manuel’s peroration against John VII (1390) in lines 652-724 ends with an invitation addressed to historians to continue his task of further investigating his nephew’s plots. Only the debut of the conversation may be regarded to a certain extent as disjoined from the body of the text. Manuel begins by luring his mother into the discussion and confesses that sometimes in talking to her he used deceit. Puzzled, she responds to the challenge and a short conversation on the morality of deceit in certain situations follows. After this exchange of sophisticated questions and replies, Manuel gets to the point and ironically accuses Helena of deceit when admonishing him to get married. I believe you recall, Mother, how you used to praise the bond of marriage, whilst sometimes I took the opposite line … I confess it was not without suspicion that I listened to your words. Nevertheless I was persuaded: I did get married and quickly looked upon children. But I was not able to eliminate with the blessings of marriage all the everyday cares of a married life.19

Still in doubt on the necessity of matrimony, the son demands further explanations believing that Helena’s arguments reside mostly in all mothers’ desire to see their grandsons.20 But the long and obscure introduction of the dialogue appears to be quite mechanically added to the discussion proper which deals with a definite topic and is clearly divided into various sections. One explanation may lie in the dialogue’s reflection of a set of courtly conversational habits and of the above mentioned orality. In contrast, in his other major dialogic text, The Dialogue with a Muslim, the first section provides a dedication to his 18

E.g. references to Plato (ll. 520, 547, 671), Homer (ll. 618, 682), or Euripides (l. 653). Manuel II Palaiologos, Dialogue, 70. 20 Ibid., 72:ȱ ΘХȱ Έξȱ ΎΓ΍ΑϜȱ ΔΣΗ΅΍Ζȱ ΘΓІΘΓȱ ΔΣΌΓΖȱ ΉϨΑ΅΍ȱ ΐ΋ΘΕΣΗ΍ȱ ΔΕΓЄΕ·ΓΙȱ ΔΓ΍ΉϧΗΌ΅΍ȱ ΙϡνΝΑȱΔ΅ϧΈ΅ΖȱϢΈΉϧΑǯȱ 19

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brother, Theodore, despot of Morea from 1383 to 1407, and several preliminary paragraphs which explain the reasons for writing the dialogue (ΘϲȱΏ΅ΐΔΕϲΑȱΎ΅Ϡȱ ΆνΆ΅΍ΓΑȱ Δ΅ΕΕ΋Η΍ΣΊΉΘ΅΍ȱ ΘϛΖȱ ψΐΉΘνΕ΅Ζȱ ΉЁΗΉΆΉϟ΅Ζȱ Ύ΅Ϡȱ ΔϟΗΘΉΝΖ) and the circumstances of the dialogue (the place: πΑȱ ̝·ΎϾΕθ, and the interlocutor: a certain ̏ΓΙΘΉΕϟΊ΋Ζ). Other occasional dialogues in Manuel’s work, like the one between Croesus and Solon in the First Ethico-Political Oration21 and another in the Funeral Oration,22 have no introduction whatsoever but are integrated in larger textual units.

II. The Message of the Dialogue The original title of the Dialogue as found in the manuscripts is ̼Ό΍ΎϲΖȱ Έ΍ΣΏΓ·ΓΖȱΔΉΕϠȱ·ΣΐΓΙ.23 Indeed, moral didacticism pervades the text in the form of prescriptions pertaining to the social life of rulers and subjects. The moral problem discussed here was whether a marriage is a necessary and useful act for rulers. Speaking against his mother, Manuel argues that being married is not necessarily a beneficial condition in an emperor’s life, and, moreover, in times of political turmoil, it may become an additional burden. In spite of his argumentation, in the end, the emperor accepts his mother’s arguments and concedes defeat. When supporting his views on marriage, Manuel speaks from the position of a married ruler. According to the accounts of the Russian travelers,24 Manuel married on 7 February 1392 with Helena Dragaš, the daughter of Gospodin Konstantin Dragaš, and grand niece of Stefan Dušan (1331-46).25 Surprisingly, she is totally absent from the dialogue. By the time of their marriage, the emperor’s mother lived as a nun in the monastery of Kyra Martha, the convent where many members of the Palaiologan family, would be buried. Nevertheless, she continued to be active at the court and participated at Manuel’s ceremony of marriage which

21

Patrologia Greca 152: 388. Manuel II Palaiologos, Funeral Oration, 235-9. 23 A detailed description of Parisinus gr. 3041 is offered by George T. Dennis, introduction to The Letters of Manuel II Palaiologos (Washington D.C.: Dumbarton Oaks Texts, 1977), XXI-XXIII. 24 George Majeska, Russian Travelers to Constantinople in the Fourteenth and Fifteenth Centuries (Washington D.C.: Dumbarton Oaks Studies, 1984), 416-36. 25 Prosopographische Lexikon der Palaiologenzeit, ed. Erich Trapp, vol. 9 (Vienna: Verlag der Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften, 1976), 21366. 22

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was organised together with the coronation.26 The implications of this double ceremony and Helena Palaiologina’s participation went thus beyond those of a festivity meant for the display of power: it was rather intended to validate Manuel’s succession to the Byzantine throne at a time when usurpation threats came from John VII, son of Andronikos IV (1376-9).27 From this perspective, one can easily conclude that a text discussing this event must have had a certain political impact. Whether it was performed or not in public, the dialogue carries a political message which addressed a definite audience made up of educated courtiers. An allusion to a targeted group of listeners appears in lines 708-9.28 While Manuel was complaining about his nephew, John, who had been caught plotting with the Ottomans, all of a sudden he announces that the documents incriminating John are with him and anyone interested in checking them can ask to see them. This allusion may indicate that his audience included people who indeed needed further persuasion in order to accept Manuel’s authority and his hostile position towards the Ottomans. The passage itself points briefly to what Manuel was thinking about governing at the beginning of his reign in 1396, the year of the supposed first redaction of the Dialogue. By that time, Byzantium was paying tribute and was a de facto vassal of the Ottomans, due to John V’s misfortunate reign between 1354 and 1391. Apart from that, Manuel had already acted as imperial hostage in the Ottoman camp29 and, during the 1390s, the Byzantines had to face the growing pretensions of Bayazid (1389-1402), pretensions that culminated in the long blockade of Constantinople between 1394 and 1402. Following these events resulting in a dramatic decrease of Byzantine influence in its former territories, Manuel developed a strong anti-Ottoman attitude. This attitude was both religiously and politically motivated. On the one hand, the Dialogues with a Muslim composed during his stay in the Ottoman camp in the 26

A first coronation has already been organised in the end of 1391, therefore the ceremony in 1392 would acquire the meaning of a re-coronation. See Peter Schreiner, “Hochzeit und Krönung Kaiser Manuels II. im Jahre 1392,” Byzantinische Zeitschrift 60 (1967): 70-85. However, John Barker disagrees and argues that Manuel’s re-coronation was only a celebration of his ascension to the throne, John Barker, Manuel II Palaeologus (13911425): A Study in Late Byzantine Statesmanship (New Brunswick: Rutgers University Press, 1969), 103. 27 For a discussion of the political implications of Manuel’s marriage, see Reinert, “Political Dimensions,” 294-6. 28 “Now these letters have been read by all and exposed to public scorn. They fell into the hands of the soldiers at a time when God granted us victory in war and we looted the encampment. And what is more, even now I Happen to have them with me and anyone interested is welcome to inspect them.” 29 After his defeat in the siege of Thessalonica from 1383 to 1387.

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late 1380s, reveal Manuel’s deep knowledge and interest in theological matters which he used in the polemics with Islam. On the other hand he systematically defended in his texts the Byzantine autonomy against the rising Ottomans. In 1384, Manuel delivered an admonitory discourse for the defense of the second largest Byzantine city, Thessalonica, against the Ottomans. There, as in his letters, which span from his early youth to 1417, he includes allusions to customs and political principles which he describes as barbaric.30 To shortly sum up this section, the Dialogue becomes thus a platform for presenting both the reasons for not having married until such a late age and the emperor’s intentions of future action.

III. Constructing the Message: Demonstrative and Deliberative Rhetoric In the following section, I will examine the ways Manuel uses to convey his political message. The analysis to follow has its starting point in reiterating the observation that the emperor mastered the skills of rhetorical composition to a high level. Not only in the Dialogue, but in all his other literary productions, Manuel abides to the classical canons of writing. His choice of Atticism as well as the disposition of arguments shows increased familiarity with rhetorical techniques. At the same time, this familiarity mirrored awareness of the power of rhetoric in influencing people. Manuel actually speaks at some point in the dialogue on the crucial role of rhetorical topics in shaping human activity: And, my goodness, do they (i.e. rhetorical topics) in one way or another, govern our entire life! Often we may see, for instance, just two people working at the same project, and the one getting all the praise, the other nothing at all, and another one even being punished for the same thing; and yet projects and works are always what they are and the way they are, but all the same they do give the impression that they change and fluctuate; sometimes they seem good, sometimes otherwise, and this simply proclaims the power of the advocates mentioned before. On the Lydian touchstone gold is normally tested; and on them the works of men.31

Rhetoric therefore looms large in this ethical dialogue as it provides the entire scaffolding of argumentation. In the debut of the text, Manuel seems very much in 30 A well known instance of Manuel’s negative attitude regarding the Ottomans is his Letter 16 addressed to Demetrios Kydones from Bayazid’s camp in Sinope. See Manuel II Palaiologos, Letters, 43-51. 31 I use in this paper the translation provided by Angelou in his edition of Manuel II Palaiologos, Dialogue, 31. Emphasis added.

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control of the discussion. After the preamble, he abruptly asks his mother for her approval to continue the discussion on marriage on the basis of twelve rhetorical topics, six final and six circumstantial. ll. 315-19—E. Mother you must somehow have heard of the famous Topics of the rhetoricians-about six of them; I think they call them Final Topics (ΘΉΏ΍ΎΤȱ ΎΉΚΣΏ΅΍΅) and besides, six more which are called Circumstantial Topics (ΔΉΕ΍ΗΘ΅Θ΍ΎΤȱΎΉΚΣΏ΅΍΅). M: Well then, my dear, are you going to have all of them as your future advocates and allies? (ΗΙΑ΋·ΓΕφΗΓΑΘΣȱΗΓ΍ȱΎ΅ϠȱΗΙΐΐ΅ΛφΗΓΑΘ΅) E: I am certainly going to, Mother.

Such topics were indeed well known to any late Byzantine student who was receiving an education based on the study of the ancient rhetorical handbooks. Aphthonius and Hermogenes, for instance, discuss in their Progymnasmata exactly these twelve topics as the basis of any literary education.32 Still, Helena shows herself diffident about using exclusively the topics and asserts that a lot more is needed in order to be persuaded (ll. 332-3: ΦΏΏΤȱ Ύ΅Ϡȱ ΔΓΏΏЗΑȱ ΪΑȱ ΈνΓ΍Γȱ ΘЗΑȱ ΆΓ΋Ό΋ΗϱΑΘΝΑȱ ΗΓ΍ȱ Ώϱ·ΝΑ). Manuel agrees that the recourse to these topics in a debate is not enough for establishing truth and that one needs an additional more efficient method (337: ΗΙΑΘΓΐΝΘνΕ΅ȱ ΐνΌΓΈΓΖ). The discussants however do not specify what they mean by this additional method but the way these topics are treated might shed more light into this problem. Thus, some topics receive more attention than others while, often, arguments are replaced by long vituperations or emotional outcries which fall short of the requirements of a rational debate. Then, in line 349, Helena declares the start of the debate proper by naming the twelve rhetorical topics, six final: Right (Θϲȱ ΈϟΎ΅΍ΓΑ), Legitimacy (ΘϲȱΑϱΐ΍ΐΓΑ), Honour (Θϲȱ σΑΈΓΒΓΑ), Benefit (Θϲȱ ΗΙΐΚνΕΓΑ), Possibility (Θϲȱ ΈΙΑ΅ΘϱΑ), Consequence (ΘϲȱπΎΆ΋ΗϱΐΉΑΓΑ); and six circumstantial: Person (ΘϲȱΔΕϱΗΝΔΓΑ), Matter (ΘϲȱΔΕκ·ΐ΅), Time (ϳȱΛΕϱΑΓΖ), Place (ϳȱΘϱΔΓΖ), Manner (ϳȱΘΕϱΔΓΖ), and Cause (ψȱ΅ϢΘϟ΅). In addition, Helena establishes the rule of the game, according to which, the winner of the debate will have to advance more arguments than the interlocutor in most of the topics. Nonetheless, the proposed systematic debate of the twelve topics guides only partially the discussion. Actually, most of the topics are forthwith dismissed as irrelevant to the matter. Moreover, in spite of initially accepting them as 32 Aphthonius, Aphthonii Progymnasmata, ed. Hugo Rabe (Leipzig: Teubner, 1926), 41-6; Hermogenes, Hermogenis Opera, ed. Hugo Rabe (Leipzig: Teubner, 1913), 4-6.

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scaffolding for the discussion, Helena suggests that elaborating upon all possible implications of these topics would rather bring confusion (Ώ΅ΆΙΕϟΑΌΓΙΖȱΏϱ·ΝΑ) than truthfulness (ΘϲȱΗ΅ΚνΖ). Thus, the final topics, i.e. Right, Legitimacy, Honor, Possibility, and Consequence are hastily treated each in a paragraph,33 while the circumstantial ones, i.e. Person, Matter, Manner, and Cause receive altogether a single paragraph.34 At this point Helena seems to have taken control over the entire discussion since she is the one who advances arguments while Manuel adds nothing and only approves of her statements. But there remain two more topics, a final one, i.e. Benefit, and a circumstantial one, i.e. Time, which are thoroughly discussed in the rest of the dialogue. Since the debate around these two topics makes actually half of the dialogue, one gets the impression that the entire discussion so far represented just a way of dramatising the talk to follow. In this section Manuel seems to have much more to say, as he presents here his main arguments for rejecting marriage. Thus, in terms of Benefit, Manuel states repeatedly that marriage brings to a statesman nothing but additional worries for it is widely known that the job of a ruler entails already a lot of troubles.35 Having been persuaded that in terms of Benefit he should rather accept the political advantages of being married,36 the emperor proceeds to the consideration of the circumstantial topic of Time. Manuel explains that the present circumstances of the Byzantine state are particularly difficult: But if a ruler’s affairs are not going well, if his days seem doomed, if everything is against him, if he is being tossed about by anarchy, not by winds–which is the sort of thing that has happened to myself–a person like this would have done better not to marry and give himself up to endless anxieties.37

33 The topic of Right: Manuel II Palaiologos, Dialogue, 80; the topic of Legitimacy: ibid., 81; the topic of Honor: ibid., 81; the topic of Right: ibid., 81; the topics of Possibility and Consequence: ibid., 84. 34 In the paragraph from lines 450-60 Helena does not hide her rush to get over any collateral discussion: “Well, let us dispense as quickly as possible with the other hexad,” Manuel II Palaiologos, Dialogue, 84. 35 Not only in the section dedicated to the Benefit (Manuel II Palaiologos, Dialogue, 86) but also in the introductory discussion Manuel starts to complain about the difficulties brought about by marriage; see Manuel II Palaiologos, Dialogue, 201: “But, I was not able to eliminate with the blessings of marriage all the everyday cares of married life. These cares come one after another, and there is never an end in sight. On the other hand, to tell the truth, being a bachelor was a bit of a storm; only being married has not been a calm either.” 36 Manuel II Palaiologos, Dialogue, 94: I would not go so far as to say that it is to the advantage of rulers and their subjects not to marry. 37 Manuel II Palaiologos, Dialogue, 94.

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While Helena herself agrees with the existence of difficult times in the management of state affairs, she stresses the benefits of family life. With regard to Manuel’s situation she argues that having children, i.e. successors on the Byzantine throne, would thwart to a significant degree any attempts of usurpation. It is at this point of the discussion that John VII Palaiologos is introduced as a highly destabilising factor in Byzantine affairs.38 He was Andronikos IV’s legitimate son, and became legitimate successor of the Byzantine throne with the agreement established in 1382 between his father and grandfather, John V. Consequently, in the last years of John V’s reign, while Manuel was away from Constantinople and the emperor himself was very old, he made every effort to put into practice his claims. But after an ephemeral success,39 Manuel quickly returned to the capital and crowned himself emperor. Despite the fact that the two reached an agreement in 1391,40 Manuel apparently still suspected John of treason because of his close connections with the Ottomans. The second agreement made before the long siege of the Ottomans between 1398 and 1402, and mentioned by Helena in the dialogue, stipulated that John adopted his first born son, the future John VIII. But, when Manuel left for the four-year diplomatic mission in the West he sent his family to the Peloponnese fearing that they could be taken hostages. The debate around the Benefits and Time of marriage avails Manuel of the opportunity to present his own perspective on the general situation of the Byzantine state, and on John’s attacks against his authority. During the discussion of the two topics, the emperor and his mother alluded sporadically to the hardships encountered by the Byzantines. Apart from these allusions, the text contains a long passage where Manuel spells out his view and attempts to persuade his mother. This intervention in lines 651-725 is focused on his nephew and it is by far the longest in the text, covering almost a hundred lines and making it look more like an oration. Manuel’s speech deviates to a great extent from the main course of the text: it does not contain anything like the previous kind of flatteries, rhetorical technicalities, or clear-cut ethical arguments. The emperor’s attitude is completely reversed: Manuel reveals here a very emotional and tense mood. He paints a 38 For a detailed account of John VII’s life and his political action, see Sanja Mešanoviþ, John VII Palaiologos (Belgrade: Institute for Byzantine Studies, 1996); George T. Dennis, “John VII Palaiologos: ‘A Holy and Just Man,’” in Byzantium State and Society: In Memory of Nikos Oikonomides, eds Anna Avramea et al. (Institute of Byzantine Studies: Athens, 2003), 205-17. 39 John VII replaced John V for several months (April-September) in 1390 with the help of the Genoese and the Ottomans. 40 By the first agreement between John VII and Manuel II, the former received Selymbria which has been his father’s appanage. A second agreement between the two came into being later on and John VII was proclaimed co-emperor in Thessalonica.

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gloomy and dispirited picture of his personal situation as ruler of a crumbling state. And while the depiction is triggered by the hardships which a marriage adds to an already dire condition, this particular paragraph makes no mention of matrimony. His logos comprises vivid comparisons, metaphors and allusions to past events. Several powerful images inspired by the rhetoric of panegyrics are noticeable. The first one is that of the state as a ship cracked and torn by violent winds. The ‘ship’ metaphor has been a well known rhetorical topos capitalised on by many authors of Princely Mirrors including the emperor himself in his Praecepts of an Imperial Education. Manuel seems to have chosen it here on purpose, partly for contrast with the consecrated meaning, and partly to accommodate the image of his enemies as pirates. For it is with this metaphor that Manuel brings into play his nephew, John VII, the most dangerous threat of the state, according to him. He is one of the fierce pirates who attack the ship and also one of the savage Cyclops living in cages, more dangerous than the mythical one, in Manuel’s wording.41 The emperor systematically accuses his nephew of trying to replace him on the Byzantine throne with the help of the Ottomans. For this purpose Manuel reminds his audience that, previously, John VII had been caught with a contractual letter signed by the Ottomans. But the discussion of this proof of treason seems insufficient for arguing against John, for the emperor continues by piling up a whole series of negative epithets and statements: thus, apart from being a Cyclop and a pirate, John is also a multifarious enemy (Δ΅ΑΘΓΈ΅ΔϲΖȱπΛΌΕϲΖ), his fury is terrible as he gnashes his teeth and breathes murder;42 he is a despicable person (σΛΌ΍ΗΘΓΖ), a disastrous threat to the Rhomaic people, who is also a threat to himself; he does what he thinks will bring him to power, he is the man who destroys everybody with his oaths, etc. The attention which John receives exceeds by far the attention Manuel or pays to Bayazid, the Ottoman ruler who reduced Constantinople to the status of a vassal state. Bayazid is only once referred to as “that drunken satrap” (Η΅ΘΕΣΔ΋Ζȱ ΐΉΌϾΝΑ) and then in connection with John’s betrayal. Considering all these elements one can conclude that this passage represents a piece of demonstrative rhetoric which draws on a psogos, defined as a speech of blame highlighting the negative features of an individual. Manuel seemingly uses the psogos in order to create a reversed positive image of his own political choices and administration. He probably chose this path as he could not praise himself and, moreover, he wanted to stress the difference of approach concerning the question of an alliance with the Ottomans. It was his father and predecessor, John V Palaiologos, who, after failing to secure sufficient help from the papacy, oriented 41

ȱManuel II Palaiologos, Dialogue, 98,ȱ••ǯȱŜŞŖȬŗǰȱΉϢΗϠȱΈνȱΩΕ΅ȱΑІΑȱΔΓΏΏΓϠȱΎϾΎΏΝΔΉΖȱπΑȱ ΘХȱΆϟУǰȱΦ·Ε΍ЏΘΉΕΓϟȱ·ΉȱπΎΉϟΑΓΙȱΔΓΏΏХ 42 This is a quote from Homer’s Odyssey 9, 369-70.

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himself toward closer ties with Sultan Murad I (1359-89). The Ottoman ruler offered John support when he had to tackle Andronikos IV’s rebellion in 1376-79. But the consequences of the collaboration with this threatening neighbor were dire for Byzantium, which became a vassal state and was forced to pay an annual tribute. In contrast, Manuel had a different position and continued to seek various diplomatic missions in order to secure the support of Western Christian powers. Praise for the emperor’s deeds does not come from his mother either. Helena is pictured as a close and straight counselor rather than that of a panegyrist. This picture is coterminous with the real Helena: the preserved sources indicate her involvement in the state’s affairs. In one of the letters addressed to her, Demetrios Kydones gives an account of her involvement in the same rebellion led by her son Andronikos IV between 1376 and 1379. She was then imprisoned together with her sons, husband and sisters who succeeded however to escape. After their escape she was accused of having favoured her son Andronikos.43 Another instance that attests to her role as political advisor is documented in Manuel’s Funeral Oration for his Brother Theodore. The emperor suggests that when Theodore escaped the meeting summoned by Bayazid in Serres, his mother knew and approved of his gesture.44 Participation in the political arena was not an uncommon pursuit for late Byzantine imperial mothers either. John V’s mother, Anna of Savoy, acted as regent for him and fought fiercely against the usurper John VI. Helena continued this tradition and became Manuel’s close counselor in the first years of his regime. The emperor frequently refers to the instances when he received advice from Helena. A simple check of the editor’s index reveals that words like Δ΅Ε΅ϟΑΉΗ΍Ζǰȱ Δ΅Ε΅ϟΑΝǰȱΗΙΐΆΓΙΏφǰȱΗϾΐΆΓΙΏΓΖǰȱ orȱΗΙΐΆΓΙΏΉϾΝ appear at least ten times in this relatively short text. They show that Manuel designed deliberation over ethical and political matters specifically as a central matter of his dialogue. Moreover, the fact that advice relies at the very basis of the dialogue is indicated by the fact that the discussion begins from the half-joking and halfserious interrogation of the value of Helena’s advice toward marriage. The empress’s answer strengthens furthermore the deliberative turn of the dialogue: It should be said that, as far as I am concerned, I have never given you any wrong advice whatsoever: only the advice which is right for you at the right time. And I 43

Kydones, Correspondance, vol. 2, 103-10 (Letter 222). Manuel II Palaiologos, Funeral Oration, 133, ̒ϡȱΈξȱΗΛΓΏϜȱΆ΅ΈϟΊΓΑΘΉΖȱǻΓЂΘΝȱ·ΤΕȱώΑȱ ΅ЁΘΓϧΖȱ πΔ΍ΘΉΘ΅·ΐνΑΓΑǼȱ ΓЁΎȱ σΚΌ΋Η΅Αȱ ϢΈϱΑΘΉΖǰȱ ΓϨΐ΅΍ǰȱ ΘχΑȱ ̍ϱΕ΍ΑΌΓΑǰȱ Ύ΅Ϡȱ ϳΕЗΗ΍ȱ ΘϲΑȱ ·ΉΑΑ΅ϧΓΑȱ Δ΅ΕΤȱ ΘΤΖȱ ΘϛΖȱ ΐ΋ΘΕϱΖȱ Ύ΅Ϡȱ ΘΤΖȱ ψΐΉΘνΕ΅Ζǯȱ ̒ЄΘΉȱ ·ΤΕȱ ΘχΑȱ ΘΓІȱ ΦΑΈΕϲΖȱ ·ΉΑΑ΅΍ϱΘ΋Θ΅ȱΎ΅ϠȱΘϲȱΚ΍ΏϱΘ΍ΐϱΑȱΘΉȱΎ΅ϠȱΚ΍ΏΓΎϟΑΈΙΑΓΑȱω·ΑΓΓІΐΉΑǰȱΎ΅ϠȱΘϲȱΔΕκ·ΐ΅ȱΓЁΎȱ σΒΝȱΘϛΖȱοΐϛΖȱπ·νΑΉΘΓȱ·ΑЏΐ΋Ζǯȱȱ 44

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Florin Leonte will do my best to demonstrate that I was not at all to blame for urging you to marry; that heeding me has been a source of many blessings to you and that I should not be reproached for this advice.45

Helena maintains an “advisory” attitude throughout the dialogue. Even after Manuel’s emotional decrial of the multifarious menaces to him and the empire’s existence, the empress supports the view that marriage is instrumental and by no means detrimental to state affairs. Having always a reply to Manuel’s complaints, in the end her dialogic role seems to outweigh the emperor’s. But more important than the lexical frequency is the constant reference to topics which define deliberative rhetoric. Benefit (ΘϲȱΗΙΐΚνΕΓΑ) was admittedly one of the central topics in deliberative oratory. Aristotle in his well-known and influential division of the rhetorical genres from Rhetoric 1358b-1359a, asserted that deliberative rhetoric deals primarily with benefit, which is sometimes also translated as expediency. It is in the argumentation corresponding to this topic that Helena outlines a picture of the good ruler. We read in lines 490-501: But you, my dear, as it happens, you are a statesman (ΔΓΏ΍Θ΍ΎϱΖȱ ΦΑφΕ); and not just that–you are a ruler, too (ΩΕΛΝΑ), and you ought to be the model (Ύ΅ΑЏΑ) and standard (ΗΘ΅Όΐφ) for those who live as citizens under you. Dancers will step behind their leader (ΎΓΕΙΚϱΖ).46

Commenting on the ruler’s marriage as a model for the social behaviour of his subjects, Helena insists that an emperor, instead of just advising people, should rather act in a certain direction in order to have his subjects act themselves in the same way: one may have all the military experience in the world and one may be the very best orator; one may be wiser and more brave than Alexander and Cyrus; one may surpass all others of the older generations, themselves distinguished for their practical advice; but once a person judges best to stay at home, not sharing risks and hard work with those he advises, he is unlikely to gain any advantage for himself at all: you know at least as well as I do–you can certainly argue from experience! What we would do is to destroy the zeal of the army–or do you not agree?47

The subjects play otherwise an important part in outlining the emperor’s identity. Helena refers to the body of citizens throughout the whole dialogue, and even in the introductory conversation:

45

Manuel II Palaiologos, Dialogue, 86. Emphasis added. Ibid., 88. 47 Ibid., 88-90. 46

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You see, you cannot be in a position to regulate well the lives of your subjects, unless you show yourself as though having been all shaped up before, giving no foothold anywhere to people who have nothing better to do than exert themselves hunting around for a chance to incriminate rulers–and as it seems many such men our country produces.48

Nonetheless, although Manuel wholeheartedly accepts this image of kingship, he later extends his view on the statesman’s agency, certainly in the light of his own political experience. When the discussion reaches the issue of the virtue in leadership and the degree to which rulers represent models for their subjects, Manuel gives a somehow surprising answer: men who themselves are very far from being virtuous, through some form of violence and through terror and trickery, do try to lead all their subjects to virtue; they know that this way it will be better for their authority and they will enhance it. Still they are going to meet their doom for what they have done, but with a milder penalty, nevertheless in view of what they have not neglected. And indeed we can see not a few who have achieved their aim–Ǻut hold on! I have been talking nonsense without realising it at all. I am not interested in tyrants. Take a look at the rulers who strain after virtue: all, you may observe, prescribe rather more than they themselves would appear to be doing.49

The above passage encompasses a somewhat Machiavellian touch. Essentially, Manuel asserts that the ruler needs not be very virtuous–he can even be a tyrant (ΘϾΕΕ΅ΑΓΖ, l. 562)–but he must urge his subjects to exercise virtues, since the subjects’ virtues and not the emperor’s bring prosperity in a state. For Manuel, who, in this passage, connects the cultivation of virtues to political expediency, being truly virtuous and only appearing virtuous in front of the subjects are two equally legitimate states. All throughout the discussion on virtue the emperor’s stance remains rather theoretical and general. Virtue, as he says, is a perfect thing while humans are imperfect beings who can only attempt to attain it but they will never be able to get it: Virtue, you see, is something perfect (ΘΉΏΉЏΘ΅ΘΓΑ); whilst perfect is nobody among men …Steep is the path leading to virtue; her root is very bitter; they fall far short of achieving clearly what they desire, even the best.50

48

Ibid., 66. Ibid., 90. Emphasis added. 50 Ibid., 92. 49

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On the contrary, the emperor’s mother seems to avoid the traps of too abstract debates. Although she accepts a discussion based on general rhetorical topics she takes the debate to the point where she can explain the necessity of marriage by pure facts. Actually, Helena conceives married life as a central feature of social and political activity.51 In her view, the main reason for urging her son to marry is that in this way he would avoid quarrels over succession on the Byzantine throne. It was a usual step for Byzantine emperors to appoint co-emperors from among their progenies at some stage in their lives. However here, Helena seems rather inclined to stress that a successor would strengthen Manuel’s position in power by rallying even more supporters for his rule and strategies. If otherwise, John VII would easily allure the courtiers to follow him, a much younger ruler to be. To summarise the above section, analysis of the demonstrative and the deliberative approaches in the text allows for a reconstruction of Manuel’s political strategies and, ultimately, of his style of government. What is remarkable here is that the interlocutors show an increased awareness of political and historical realities missing in other rhetorical texts. Praise for deeds or for the political design is left aside in favor of a more applied discussion of concrete situations. Therefore, one of the emperor’s strategies in getting through administrative difficulties seems to be the approval of an extensive involvement of counselors in state affairs. In addition, Manuel is always keen to provide suggestions for future action, even in the form of criticism for his own actions.

IV. The Place of the Dialogue in Manuel’s Literary Work As mentioned in the introduction of this paper, the present dialogue is not Manuel’s single political writing. In the first of the Seven Ethico-Political Oration, composed in 1409 the emperor elaborates on the conflicts between the ancient Greeks and the Persians. Manuel stresses the Hellenic cultural superiority which, in his view, proved to be decisive in defeating the Eastern barbaric people. The parallel with the contemporary situation when the Byzantines were much inferior in number to the Ottomans was obvious. In The Funeral Oration for His Brother Theodore, the emperor constructs an encomium in the form of a narration which describes in detail the heroic deeds of Theodore, who re-conquered the Peloponnese from the Latins. He had also fought successfully against the Ottomans, who, by the end of the fourteenth century became interested in this province. By extolling his brother’s achievements in the Peloponnese, Manuel 51

Ibid., 76. “There are two ways to lead a social life (ΔΓΏ΍Θ΍ΎϲΖȱ ΆϟΓΖ): alone or with a wife. So what you say about each of these you say about social life in general, and if you denounce social life, tell me, do you not patently denounce yourself too?”

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praises also the allegiance to the idea of a centralised Byzantine authority. At the same time he vilifies the Byzantine landlords who maintained their own authority over the distant territories of the empire by making alliances with the state’s enemies. The emperor’s interest in theorising in the light of his own experience is best reflected by his princely mirror, entitled Praecepts of an Imperial Education and dedicated in 1408 to his son, John, who played an increasingly important part already in the Byzantine politics during the last years of Manuel’s reign. As its title indicates this work is a list of rules to follow in government. Manuel offers advice for becoming actually a kind of philosopher king rather than a military ruler. This notion seems coterminous with the emperor’s ideas on the place of virtues in his activity, as expressed in the Dialogue on marriage: a ruler should consider prescribing and advocating virtues to his subjects. The enactment of virtues, and especially of the military ones, by the emperor seems rather secondary. In this framework, the present text looks more like a constituent part of a larger imperial project intended to offer a written account of an extensive political experience upon which the successors of the Byzantine rule might build future action. In the introductory study of the Dialogue, Angelou states that the text may be regarded as “a sort of extended post-graduate progymnasma.”52 Angelou emphasised in this way the topical schema inspired by the late antique books of progymnasmata which Manuel used. However, I believe that Manuel’s usage of both advisory and epideictic rhetoric indicate not only his good knowledge of rhetorical curriculum but also an intention to act in a certain direction in order to safeguard what was left of Byzantium. His harsh criticism of the defiant John VII highlights the emperor’s claim that he is the legitimate ruler of Byzantium and its defender against the powerful Ottomans. Furthermore, it appears that the Byzantine state was affected by a serious internal instability. The dialogue thus is meant to reflect in the customary courtly idiom the realities of late fourteenthcentury Constantinople.

Bibliography Primary Sources Bevegni, Claudio. Manuelis Palaelogi Dialogum de matrimonio. Catania: Centro di studi sull’antico cristianesimo, 1989. Demetrios Kydones. 'pPptrius &\GRQqs Correspondance. Edited by Raymond Joseph. Loenertz. Vatican: Bibliotheca Apostolica Vaticana, 1960. 52

Angelou, introduction to Dialogue, 56.

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Laourdas, Basil. “ȱ ̕ΙΐΆΓΙΏΉΙΘ΍ΎϱΖȱ ΔΕΓΖȱ ΘΓΙΖȱ ̋ΉΗΗ΅ΏΓΑ΍ΎΉϟΖȱ ΘΓΙȱ ̏΅ΑΓΙφΏȱ̓΅Ώ΅΍ΓΏϱ·ΓΙǰ” (Manuel II Palaiologos’s Admonitory Oration to the People of Thessalonica). ̏΅ΎΉΈΓΑ΍ΎΣ 3 (1955): 290-307 Manuel II Palaiologos. Dialogue with the Empress-Mother on Marriage. Edited and translated by Athanasios Angelou. Vienna: Verlag der Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften, 1991. Manuel II Palaiologos. Funeral Oration for his Brother Theodore. Edited and translated by Julian Chrysostomides. Association for Byzantine Studies: Thessalonica, 1985. Manuel II Palaiologos. The Letters of Manuel Palaiologos. Edited and translated by George T. Dennis (Washington D.C.: Dumbarton Oaks Texts, 1977.

Secondary Literature Aphthonius. Aphthonii Progymnasmata. Edited by Hugo Rabe. Leipzig: Teubner, 1926. Barker, John. Manuel II Palaeologus (1391-1425): A Study in Late Byzantine Statesmanship. New Brunswick: Rutgers University Press, 1969. Dąbrowska, Małgorzata. “Ought One to Marry? Manuel II Palaiologos’s Point of View.” Byzantine and Modern Greek Studies 31 (2007): 146-56. Halecki, Oskar Halecki. Un empereur de Rome à Byzance. London: Variorum Reprints, 1972. Hermogenes. Hermogenis Opera. Edited by Hugo Rabe. Leipzig: Teubner, 1913. Majeska, George. Russian Travelers to Constantinople in the Fourteenth and Fifteenth Centuries. Washington D.C.: Dumbarton Oaks Studies, 1984. Mešanoviþ, Sanja. John VII Palaiologos. Institute for Byzantine Studies: Belgrade 1996. Prosopographische Lexikon der Palaiologenzeit. Edited by Erich Trapp, vols. 112. Vienna: Verlag der Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften, 1976. Reinert, Stephen W. “Political Dimensions of Manuel II Palaiologos’s 1392 Marriage and Coronation.” In Novum Millennium. Studies on Byzantine History and Culture dedicated to Paul Speck, edited by Claudia Sode, Sarolta A. Takács and Paul Speck, 291-302. Aldershot: Ashgate, 2001. Rigolot, François. “Problematising Renaissance Exemplarity: The Inward Turn of Dialogue from Petrarch to Montaign.” In Printed Voices: The Renaissance Culture of Dialogue, edited by Dorothea B. Heitsch and Jean-François Vallée, 3-23. Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2004. Schreiner, Peter. “Hochzeit und Krönung Kaiser Manuels II. im Jahre 1392.” Byzantinische Zeitschrift 60 (1967): 70-85.

Part V: History of Art and Cult

CHRIST AND THE ANGELIC TETRAMORPHS: THE MEANING OF THE EIGHTH-CENTURY APSIDAL CONCH AT SANTA MARIA ANTIQUA IN ROME EILEEN RUBERY I. Introduction The middle of the eight century was a crucial time for the papacy in Rome. With considerable skill, the brothers, Popes Stephen II (752-7) and Paul I (757-67) freed the Holy See from Byzantine rule, agreed an alliance with the Franks which permitted the establishment of the Papal State, and conducted a battle of words and images with the Eastern Empire about the doctrine of iconoclasm.1 Although the biographies of these two popes in the Liber Pontificalis, written nearly contemporaneously with their occupation of the See, include details of their building and decorating activities in various churches in Rome, very little of that art has survived. However, one major fresco bearing Pope Paul’s name, although now in a poor condition, can still be seen in the apse of the church of Santa Maria Antiqua al Foro Romano, in Rome. This paper describes this composition, and its unique iconography in the context of the religious and political background to its

My thanks are due to Robin Cormack, Caroline Goodson, John Osborne and the anonymous reviewer, all of whom provided valuable comments and suggestions for improvement to the text. Any residual mistakes of course remain my responsibility. My thanks are also due to Girton College, Cambridge, who provided a grant for a visit to Rome during which I did some of the work on this paper, and to the British School at Rome (in particular to Maria-Pia Malvezzi) whose help with access to sites and to various books on Rome made the study possible. 1 Vitae of Pope Stephen II and Pope Paul I, in Le Liber Pontificalis, ed. and trans. Louis Duchesne, vol. 1 (Paris: Bibliothèque des Écoles Fran çaises d’Athènes et de Rome, 1955), 440-62, 463-7. For an English translation see The Lives of the Eighth-Century Popes (Liber Pontificalis), ed. and trans. Raymond Davis (Liverpool: Liverpool University Press, 2007), 52-75, 79-83. The various letters are in the Codex Carolinus, seu volumen epistolarum, quas Romani pontifices Stephanus II, Paulus I, Constantinus Antipapa ... ad reges Francorum miscrunt (Paris, 1744).

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creation. It also considers the possible audiences it might have been developed for, and discusses its likely contemporary reception, seeking to use the image to contribute additional context and understanding of the forces at play at this period in Rome. The Roman church of Santa Maria Antiqua was inserted into ancient buildings at the south-east corner of the Forum at the foot of the Palatine hill, between the lacus Iuterna and the Horrea Agrippiana.2 Probably dedicated sometime in the sixth century, the earliest textual references to it are in the vita of Pope John VII (705-7) and a seventh- or eighth-century pilgrim’s itinerary.3 The main church was abandoned, probably following the earthquake of 8474 when valuable items were removed to the new church of Santa Maria Nova (now Santa Francesca Romana), which took over its ecclesiastical responsibilities. 5 Although the atrium subsequently remained in use for some time, by the nineteenth century, memory of the site of the ruined church was uncertain until exposed by the excavations of Giacomo Boni between 1900-1, when it was found to contain many frescoes from the seventh to ninth centuries.6 These frescoes form a unique artistic time capsule that has been described as the “Sistine Chapel of the early medieval period” and include frescoes commissioned throughout the period of Byzantine Rome–that is the approximately 250-year period that followed the re-conquest of the West by Justinian (527-65) in the mid-sixth century. The main apsidal conch fresco (fig. 9-1) was one of the first frescoes to be described, since it was briefly exposed in 1702, when a water-colour

2

Richard Delbrueck, “Der Südostbau am Forum Romanum,” Jahrbuch des Deutschen Archäologischen Instituts 36 (1921): 8-33, 186-7. 3 Vita of Pope John VII, in Le Liber Pontificalis, vol. 1, 385. For an English translation see The Book of Pontiffs (Liber Pontificalis), ed. and trans. Raymond Davis (Liverpool: Liverpool University Press, 1989), 90-1. The pilgrim’s itinerary is De locis sanctis martyrum quae sunt foris civitatis Romae, which says: Basilica quae app. Sca Maria Antiqua. This manuscript is in the Bibliotheca Nazionale di Vienna n. 795, and is reprinted in Giovanni Battista de Rossi, La Roma Sotterranea Cristiana, vol. 1 (Rome: Cromolitografia Pontificia, 1864), 143. The dating of this document is discussed in Richard Krautheimer, Spencer Corbett and Wolfgang Frankl, Corpus Basilicarum Christianarum Romae, vol. 2 (Città del Vaticano and New York: Pontificio Istituto di Archeologia Cristiana, Institute of Fine Arts, 1959), 249-50. 4 Krautheimer et al., Corpus Basilicarum, vol. 2, 249-68, esp. 250. 5 Gordon McNeil Rushforth, “The Church of S Maria Antiqua,” Papers of the British School at Rome 1 (1901): 1-123, esp 8. 6 No report of Boni’s excavations was published but Eva Tea used his notes extensively in her book: Eva Tea, La Basilica di Santa Maria Antiqua (Milan: Societa Editrice ‘Vita e Pensero’, 1937-45), 3-20. The earliest description of the site following the excavations was Rushforth, “Church of S Maria”.

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of it was made.7 Although, since the twentieth century excavations, Santa Maria Antiqua has been the subject of many stylistic and iconographical studies, this apsidal conch fresco has, rather surprisingly, received little further attention.8 Yet it is a highly unusual composition, containing elements not previously found in Rome. This paper will first describe the fresco, then consider its iconography and finally discuss its likely meanings and probable reception. Issues relating to the purpose served by the church during its lifetime are unresolved. The Fig. 9-1: The apse fresco at Santa Maria Antiqua in presence of many images the Roman Forum (757-67) of popes with square haloes, indicating that they were still alive at the time the image was made, suggests a close association with the papacy. 9 The presence of frescoes linked to the Lateran Synod of 649, organised in close association with “Greek” monks lead by Maximus the Confessor, suggests close associations with these monks. 10 Sansterre, after a careful assessment of the evidence, concludes that it was probably (but not certainly) a monasteria diaconiae by 650, and it is referred to as 7

Francesco Valesio, “Diario di Roma, 1702,” in Diario di Roma: Libro Terzo e Libro quarto, vol. 2, eds Gaetana Scano and Guiseppe Graglia (Milan: Longanesi and Co., 19779), 169-70. Tea, Basilica di Santa Maria, 4, 6, describes how the apsidal area came to be briefly unearthed in the early eighteenth century. 8 For detailed bibliographies of the archaeology and frescoes in this church see Krautheimer et al., Corpus Basilicarum, vol. 2, 247-68; Per Jonas Nordhagen, “The Earliest Decorations in Santa Maria Antiqua and Their Date,” Acta, Institutum Romanum Norvegiae 1 (1962): 53, n.1 and John Osborne, J. Rasmus Brandt and Guisseppe Morganti (eds), Santa Maria Antiqua al Foro Romano: Centi Anni Dopo (Rome: Campisano Editore, 2004). 9 Rushforth, “Church of S Maria,” 73-4. 10 Ibid., 68-71.

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a diaconia, or centre for the distribution of alms in the vita of Pope Leo III (795816).11

II. Technical Aspects of the Fresco and its Images The apse fresco was painted on the most superficial layer of plaster covering the surface of the apsidal conch. Even when exposed in the early 1900s the fresco had suffered some loss of paint, especially on the left, and Wilpert reports that, on 18 December 1909, he removed further sections of the top plaster layer to expose part of another, painted underneath. 12 In fig. 9-1 the top left edge of the conch with the exposed area of the second fresco is visible, though its apparent size is reduced by foreshortening due to the curve of the semi-dome. Although much detail of the fresco is still visible on direct inspection, the present faded pastel colours make it difficult to reproduce in monochrome, therefore for greater clarity, the key features in figs 9-1 to 9-3 have been outlined in ink over the images.13 In 1917, Wilpert published an extensive set of Plates of the frescoes of the church composed of watercolours by Carlo Tabanelli painted over photographs of the frescoes. Careful comparison of the fresco as it survived in 2006-8 with these Plates has demonstrated that, where the fresco still survives, they are a reliable record of the imagery in the 1900s.14 However, the colours of the frescoes today 11

For a thorough discussion of these issues, see Jean-Marie Sansterre, Les Moines Grecs et Orientaux à Rome aux Epoques Byzantines et Carolingienne (Brussels: Palais des Academies, 1980), esp. 109-11. Sansterre makes the point that these monks came from a variety of countries in the east, although they were called “Greek” by the Romans, hence the use of inverted commas with the adjective. Vita of Leo III, in Le Liber Pontificalis, vol. 2, 1-48, esp. 12; Davis, Lives of the Eighth-Century Popes, 176-227 esp 200. 12 Joseph Wilpert, Die Römischen Mosaiken und Malereien der Kirchlichen Bauten vom IV. bis XIII. Jahrhundert, vol. 2 (Freiburg im Breisgau: Herder, 1917), 659. Per Jonas Nordhagen, “S Maria Antiqua: the Frescoes of the Seventh Century,” Acta, Institutum Romanum Norvegiae 8 (1979): 89-142, esp. 178-80. Wilpert states that these removed sections contained nothing of interest. Nordhagen says they “had either lost their painting completely or consisted of ... no figural representation.” 13 Wilpert’s Plate 151 in volume 4 is the most accurate reproduction of the apse as it was shortly after excavation. Wladimir Gruneisen, Sainte Marie Antique (Rome: Max Bretschneider, 1911), 145: figs 106 and 147: fig. 109 includes two imaginative reconstructions of this apse in his monograph, but they should be treated with caution as the evidence for some of the structures he includes is lacking. 14 Eileen Rubery, “Pope John VII’s devotion to Mary: Papal Images of Mary from the 4th to the Early 8th Century,” in The Origins of the Cult of the Virgin Mary, ed. Chris Maunder (London: Continuum Press, 2008), 155-99, provides a more detailed consideration of the accuracy of the plates.

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are paler than in these plates, and in some places further losses of plaster/fresco have occurred. In particular practically the whole of the apse decoration below the semi-dome of the conch is now lost.15

Left: fig. 9-2: Detail of tetramorph angel on the right side of the apse fresco at Santa Maria Antiqua Above: fig. 9-3: Detail of the head of the tetramorph from the apse fresco at Santa Maria Antiqua

III. Attribution and Description of the Fresco in the Apsidal Conch The attribution of this fresco to Pope Paul I was first made when it was transiently exposed in 1702 and the figure with a square blue halo on Christ’s right (fig. 9-1: arrow) was described by Francesco Velasio, in his diary, following a visit to the site: la figura di Paolo I pontefice con il diadema quadro, in segno che allora 16 era vivente, e lettere “Sanctissimus Paulus Romanus Papa.”

Since Paul II was pope from 1464 to 1471, long after the church was abandoned, the pope referred to must be Paul I. Tea shows the inscription arranged in two vertical and one horizontal lines: 15 16

Wilpert, Die Römischen Mosaiken, vol. 4, Plate 151. “The Most Holy Roman Pope, Paul,” Valesio, “Diario di Roma,” 170.

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+ S A N C T I S S I M U S

ROMANUS P A V L V S P P

suggesting it was still visible when Bosio excavated the site. Rushforth describes the same arrangement of the letters.17 On Wilpert’s Plate 151 only two “PP”s, the abbreviation for “papa” survive, and today no letters remain. 18 But there is no reason to doubt these earliest observations nor the attribution to Paul I. Using the sources identified above, the fresco in the apsidal conch can now be reconstructed (fig. 9-1). The centre of the apse was dominated by a large bearded figure of Christ with an enormous cruciform halo. He was clothed in golden robes and stood on a golden footstool edged with pearls against a background of green and red broad stripes below a blue “starry sky”. Only the toes of his right foot now survive on the footstool. He held a gemmed codex in his left hand; while his right hand was raised in a gesture of blessing. Under his right elbow, and standing between Christ and the slight figure of Paul I, was the edge of a yellow halo plus the edge of a veil, but no surviving face. 19 Below these fragments some vertical lines suggested a garment. Further to the left of this figure was the square halo belonging to Pope Paul I. Tea, Wilpert and others have plausibly suggested this saint is Mary, the Mother of God who, as titular saint of the church, presents Pope Paul to Christ.20 The pope, like Christ, wears a gold-coloured robe, but is standing, below Christ, his feet on a golden floor decorated with wavy green patterns, perhaps indicating a carpet or, as at Santi Cosma e Damiano, the river Jordan21 (fig. 9-4).

17

Tea, Basilica di S Maria, 17-20. Wilpert, Die Römischen Mosaiken, vol. 2, 702. 19 Tea, Basilica di S Maria, 306-7. 20 Wilpert, Die Römischen Mosaiken, vol. 4, Plate 151; Tea, Basilica di S Maria, 306-7. 21 Walter Oakeshott, The Mosaics of Rome: from the End of the Third Century to the Fourteenth Century (London: Thames and Hudson, 1967), Plates XI-XIII. 18

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Christ is flanked by two airborne, heavenly, angels, each with four heads, hovering in front of the background. This angel-type is commonly called a tetramorph. The right angel is well-preserved (fig. 9-2) and has three pairs of wings: one pair folded downwards, lower edges crossed, exposing the left foot; the second pair held open revealing the left hand, and the top pair held aloft, enclosing the four heads (fig. 9-3). Red flames are visible on the left corner of a rectangular trolley or chariot (see fig. 9-8 below). The wings are now a reddish black colour, edged with fine white lines. All four heads of the tetramorph are nimbed, the halos, now dusky pink, outlined by fine white lines which also run radially from the edge

Fig. 9-4: The sixth-century apse mosaic at Santi Cosma e Damiano in the Roman Forum of the halo (fig. 9-3). The central head is human, with a white headband; wellpreserved except for the chin and mouth. To the left is the head of an ox (less well preserved), above, the head of an eagle and to the right (again less well preserved) that of a lion. The left tetramorph is much less distinct, but appears identical to the right one in all surviving characteristics. Notwithstanding the fading of the colours, astonishing detail still survives in this fresco which gives an overall impression of great solemnity. Now lost, but originally continuous with the lower border of the yellow foreground, and extending to the floor, was a patterned red drape decorated with yellow discs, suspended from a yellow rod, and anterior to a blue background (fig. 9 -1).

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IV. Iconography a. The Origins of the Tetramorph The first question to be considered is the origins of these unusual tetramorphs and how they fit into the iconology of angels. The tetramorph is first mentioned in Ezekiel 1:5-19, where the prophet has a vision of God: 22 [5] And out of the midst thereof the similitude of four living creatures: and this was their look: the similitude of a man in them. [6] They were four faces to one, and four wings to one. [7] Their feet straight feet, and the sole of their foot as the sole of a calves foot ... [8] And the hands of a man under their wings in four parts ... [10] And the similitude of their countenance: the face of a man; and the face of a lion on the right hand of them four; and the face of an ox on the left hand of them four: and the face of an eagle over them four… [19] And when the living creatures walked, the wheels also walked together by them; and when the living creatures were lifted up from the earth, the wheels also were lifted up together.23

Irenaeus of Lyon (d. c. 200) developed these ‘living creatures’ further in his Adversus Haereses, where he established the canonical status of the four Gospels by the process of linking each of the four Gospels to one of the four heads: For the cherubim, too, were four-faced, and their faces were images of the dispensation of the Son of God. For, [as the Scripture] says, "The first living creature was like a lion, symbolising His effectual working, His leadership, and royal power; the second [living creature] was like a calf, signifying [His] sacrificial and sacerdotal order; but “the third had, as it were, the face as of a man,”–an evident description of His advent as a human being; ‘the fourth was like a flying eagle,’ pointing out the gift of the Spirit hovering with His wings over the Church. And therefore the Gospels are in accord with these things, among which Christ Jesus is seated.24

Pseudo-Dionysius, a theologian of the late fifth-early sixth century, developed the concept of angels further by proposing nine ‘powers’ of angels existing in three

22

All Old Testament extracts are taken from the Douai translation of the Vulgate of 1609; the spelling has been modernised. The words in italics in the text describe the attributes of the tetramorph. 23 Emphasis added. 24 Irenaeus of Lyon, Adversus Hereses, Book 3, Chapter XI. English translation: Irenaeus of Lyon, The Writings of Irenaeus, Bishop of Lyon, trans. Alexander Roberts and William Rambaut (Edinburgh: T and T Clark, 1868), 287-96.

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hierarchies, and placing the tetramorph in the highest hierarchy as a variant of cherubim and seraphim, who were: the many-eyed and many-winged hosts, named in the Hebrew tongue Cherubim and Seraphim, are established immediately around God with a nearness superior to all. 25

In the vision, Ezekiel meets God flanked by the tetramorphs; in the apse, Christ replaces God and Pope Paul replaces Ezekiel, but the tetramorphs are unchanged. Therefore this apse makes a statement about the equal status of Christ and God, an issue of major dissension between the East and the West in earlier ecumenical disputes on the nature of Christ that had, by the eighth century been largely resolved. Perhaps more importantly, it suggests a complementary equivalence of the pope and the prophet. In a third strand, the tetramorph angels stress the fundamental unity of the church by portraying the four Evangelists and their Gospels united together in one body (the Church) in the same way as the four heads of the tetramorph were united in its single body. Finally, since Irenaeus limited the canon to only four Gospels, the uniqueness of these holy writings as part of the canon is emphasised, with an implication that other positions and writings are not orthodox doctrine.

b. Comparison with Other Images in Rome Having gained some understanding of the origin and meaning of these angelic forms, the composition will be placed in the context of other earlier or contemporary depictions of Christ with angels, saints, and patrons in the East and the West before proceeding to consider more fully the particular meaning of this apse. Early apsidal conches in Rome frequently depicted Christ accompanied by either the apostles, as at Santa Pudenziana, or by just Peter and Paul.26 That in the church of Santi Cosma e Damiano, just across the Forum, is the earliest surviving example of an apse where living figures are also present (fig. 9-4).27 There, Peter and Paul each present to Christ one of the two titular saints, and beyond them, on the left, stands the patron, Pope Felix (526-30), holding a model of the church. 28 Christ, in the heavenly section of the apse, has a similar pose to that at Santa Maria 25

Pseudo-Dionysius the Areopagite, The Celestial Heirarchy, trans. John Parker, vol. 2 (London: James Parker, 1899), 23. 26 See for example the apses at S Pudenziana and S Costanza, Rome, in Oakeshott, Mosaics of Rome, figs 42-5 and fig. 41 respectively. 27 Santi Cosma e Damiano was the earliest church to be dedicated in the Forum. 28 Vita of Felix, in Le Liber Pontificalis, vol. 1, 279-80; The Book of Pontiffs, 52-3.

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Antiqua, though he holds a codex instead of a scroll. 29 But the supporting figures at Santa Maria Antiqua are reduced to the titular saint and the patron. No images of angels occur in surviving apses in Rome until Paschal I (817-24) places Mary and the Christ child amongst an angelic host in Santa Maria in Domnica around 818.30

c. Images in Ravenna Ravenna, seat of the Exarchy governing the Byzantine West after Justinian I recovered the city from the Ostrogoths, had close links with Rome, having previously been the imperial residence. Two surviving apses here include archangels, and a third, though now destroyed, can be reconstructed. 31 At San Michele in Africisco (fig. 9-5) the archangels Michael and Gabriel are on either

Fig. 9-5: The sixth-century apse mosaic at San Michele in Africisco, Ravenna (now at the Bode Museum, Berlin)

29

Oakeshott, Mosaics of Rome, Plate 114; Christa Ihm, Die programme der Christlichen Apsismalerei vom vierten Jahrhundert bis zur mitte des Achten Jahrhunderts (Wiesbaden: Franz Steiner Verlag, 1960); Jean-Michel Spieser, “The Representation of Christ in the Apses of Early Christian Churches,” Gesta 37 (1998): 63-73, esp. 64. 30 Oakeshott, Mosaics of Rome, 73-6, and figs 55-9. 31 Spieser, “The Representation of Christ,” 64.

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side of a standing Christ in a sixth-century mosaic.32 Two angels flank Christ seated on a globe in the sixth-century apse at San Vitale, the angels presenting the titular saint Vitalis and the bishop of Ravenna to Christ, who offers a martyr’s crown to San Vitalis. (fig. 9-6). At Santa Agata Maggiore, a cruciform-nimbed Christ was flanked by two angels of similar appearance to those at San Michele.33 Note, however, that in these apses it is angels and archangels, two powers from the lowest hierarchy, who are depicted.34 These are the angels that are closest to man,

Fig. 9-6: The sixth-century apse at San Vitale, Ravenna 32

Elke Krause, Schätze der Berliner Museen (Berlin: Berlin Information, 1983), 52, provides a good image of the mosaic as it is now on display in Berlin, but as van Berchem and Clouzot (Marguerite Gautier-van Berchem and Étienne Clouzot, Mosaïques chré tiennes du IVme au Xme siè cle (Genève: Les presses de l’Imprimerie du Journal de Genè ve , 1924), 169-70) say, it has been seriously maltreated since its removal from the church in Ravenna, and little more than the bare iconography can be relied upon. Ciampini (Giovanni Guisto Ciampini, Vetera monimenta, vol. 2 (Roma: Sumptibus Caroli Giannini, 1747) Plate XVII provides what is probably the most reliable surviving image. Other recent discussions of the apse can be found at James Morganstern, review of S Michele in Africisco zu Ravenna:Bauerschichtliche Untersichungen, by Peter Grossman, American Journal of Archaeology 80 (1976): 108-9. 33 This apse from the sixth century was lost in the seventeenth century, see Spieser, “The representation of Christ,” 63-73, esp. 64. 34 Pseudo-Dionysius the Areopagite, Book 3, Chapter IX. English translation: PseudoDionysius the Areopagite, The Celestial Heirarchy, vol. 2, 169-73.

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and that have converse with humans; in contrast, cherubim and seraphim are closest to God.

d. Images Outside Italy The most nearly contemporary surviving apse containing depictions of tetramorphs is in Georgia, at the rock-cut monastery church of San Dodo, part of the David-Garedja complex.35 The deeply excavated conch depicts an enthroned Christ in a mandorla, flanked by two (named) archangels and two tetramorphs (fig. 9-7).36 The tetramorphs are smaller than the archangels and stand on either side of the throne; their flaming chariots, the heads of the four living beasts and their three pairs of wings are clearly visible (fig. 9-8). An inscription indicates that they are singing the trisagion, therefore this imagery draws elements from Isaiah 6:1-3:37 [1] ... I saw our Lord sitting upon an high throne and elevated: ... [2] Seraphims stood upon the same: six wings to one, and six wings to the other: with two they covered his face, and with two they covered his feet, and with two they flew. [3] And they cried one to another, and said: “Holy, Holy, Holy, the Lord God of hosts, all the earth is full of his glory.”

and also from Revelations 4:

35

Fig. 9-7: The deeply curved apse at San Dodo in Georgia, possibly seventh-century

Tania Velmans and Adriano Alpago Novello, Miroir de l’Invisible: Peintures Murales et Architecture de la Gé orgie (Vie-XVe s) ( Saint-Léger-Vauban: Zodiaque, 1996), 139; Ihm Die programme der Christlichen, 43, 192; Spieser, “The Representation of Christ,” 63-73, esp. 64. Ihm and Speiser date this fresco to the seventh century but Velmans gives a ninth century date. Neither gives any reasons for their date. 36 Ihm, Die programme der Christlichen, 43, 192; Spieser, “The Representation of Christ,”63-73, esp. 64; Velmans and Novello, Miroir de l’Invisible, 139. 37 Tania Velmans, “L’Image de la Déisis dans les Églises de Géorgie,” Cahiers Archeologiques 29 (1980): 47-102, esp. 74-7, 100.

The Meaning of the Eighth-Century Apsidal Conch at S Maria Antiqua in Rome 195 [1] ... behold a door ... opened in heaven ... and the first voice said, come hither and I will show you things which must be hereafter [2] ... and, behold, a throne was set in heaven, and one sat on the throne [3] and there was a rainbow round about the throne ... [6] … around about the throne were four beasts full of eyes before and behind. [7] And the first beast was like a lion, and the second beast like a calf, and third beast had a face as a man, and the fourth beast was like a flying eagle. [8] And the four beasts had each of them six wings about him; and they were full of eyes within, and they rest not day and night, saying “Holy, Holy, Holy, Lord God Almighty, which was, and is, and is to come.”

The text from Revelation describes the Day of Judgement and Christ’s Fig. 9-8: Detail of the right second coming. It also mentions a tetramorph in the apse at San rainbow round the throne, expressed in Dodo, Georgia imagery as a mandorla or series of coloured bands, often in an almond shape, but sometimes oval or even round, enclosing the figure of Christ. Christ bridges heaven and earth at this apocalyptic moment, so the colour of the mandorla signifies the fire and light at the boundary between heavenly and earthly spheres. Revelation also refers to six-winged creatures with animal heads, but note that here there are four separate creatures rather than one creature with four heads. Dodo monastery was founded in the seventh century and the apse probably derives from that period.38 Other similar apses in the East include that at St Stephen’s, Lmbat, Armenia, from around the same period, where an enthroned Christ is in a mandorla with a single tetramorph and a six-winged seraphim below.39 Mango described drawings by the Fossati of similar tetramorphs which

38

Shalvá Yasonovich Amiranašhvili, Istorija Gruzinskoj Monumentalnoi Schivopisi [The history of Georgian monumental painting] vol. 1 (Tbilisi: Sakhelgama: 1957), 30-5, and figs 17-23. 39 Velmans and Alpago Novello, Miroir de l’Invisible, 139; Christa Belting-Ihm, “Theophanic Images of Divine Majesty in Early Medieval Italian Church Decoration,” in Italian Church Decoration of the Middle Ages and Early Renaissance, Functions Forms and Regional Traditions, Ten Contributions to a Colloquium held at the Villa Spelman,

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may have decorated the pendentives of the Pantocrator vault of the south gallery of Hagia Sophia, although they probably date from the ninth-tenth century.40 Velmans’s paper on churches in Georgia and other parts of the Byzantine world provides a detailed review of these and some other surviving examples.41

e. Non Monumental Images A tetramorph with wheels and eyes on its wings supports Christ’s mandorla in the Ascension scene in the sixthcentury Rabbula Gospels (fig. 99).42 The tessellated edge to this illumination suggests that it could have been copied from a lost monumental mosaic. A silver liturgical fan from Constantinople bearing a Justin II (565-78) silver stamp has a central tetramorph with four heads (fig. 9-10).43 Insular and Carolingian versions of the tetramorph in manuscripts generally occur somewhat later and are stylistically so different that they can be ignored here.44

Fig. 9-9: Christ in a mandorla supported by a tetramorph and two angels from the Ascension page of the Rabbula Gospels (sixth century)

Florence, ed. William Tronzo, Villa Spelman Colloquia, vol. 1 (Bologna: Nuova Alfa Editoriale, c. 1989), 42-59. 40 Cyril Mango, Materials for the Study of the Mosaics of St. Sophia at Istanbul (Washington D.C.: Dumbarton Oaks Research Library and Collection, 1962), 30-5, and figs 26-7. 41 Velmans, “L’Image de la Déisis,” 47-102, esp. 74-7, 100. 42 This manuscript, now in the Laurentian Library, Florence, was made by the Mesopotamian monk, Rabbula, at the Monastery of St John in Syria, at the end of the sixth century. It contains the four Gospels in a Syrian translation with extensive illuminations (including 26 miniatures and 19 canon tables). For a coloured image, see Carlo Cecchelli et al., eds, The Rabbula Gospels Facsimile Edition of the Miniatures of the Syriac Manuscript Plut. I (Olton: Urs Graf, 1959), 56. 43 Gary Vikan, “Rhipidion with Tetramorph,” in Age of Spirituality: a Symposium, ed. Kurt Weitzmann (New York: Metropolitan Museum of Art, 1980), 617-18.

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f.

Discussion

Clearly the integration of Old and New Testament texts with Patristic interpretations has produced a range of pictorial images of angelic beings which do not necessarily always conform precisely with what was described in the sources. Seraphim have six wings in Isaiah, while the four living creatures in Ezekiel only have four, yet the fourheaded tetramorph, in Rome, Georgia (and elsewhere) had six wings, arranged as described in Isaiah. The eyes on their wings (best seen in figs 9-9 and 9-10, but also present in the Georgian apse and possibly in the Santa Maria Antiqua apse) were mentioned in Revelation.45 Revelation also introduced a new variant on Ezekiel’s tetramorph, for there, four separate creatures, each have one of the four heads. This four-bodied version was widely employed in art, although usually the animal heads did not possess human or angelic bodies, although they could be winged. Sometimes the entire animal was shown instead. This variant was popular in Fig. 9-10: Tetramorph from the Egypt, examples surviving from the fifth- centre of a ripidium or liturgical seventh centuries in Bawit, in Egypt and fan from the time of Justin II in the sixth-century apse at Hosios David (565-78), which is now in the in Thessalonica.46 Over time this became Dumbarton Oaks Collection, a standard way of indicating the unity of 16.23. Washington D. C. (sixth the Gospels, especially in manuscripts.47 century) 44

Nancy Netzer, Cultural Interplay in the 8th Century: The Trier Gospels and the Making of a Scriptorium at Echternach (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1994), 108-11. 45 Velmans, “L’Image de la Déisis,” fig. 19. The present state of the Santa Maria Antiqua apse makes it difficult to be sure whether the scattered marks that survive are eyes or just damaged areas of the fresco, and Wilpert’s Plate 151 does not help here. 46 Ihm, Die programme der Christlichen, 42-3 and Plate 23. 1, relating to the Apse of Chapel 26 of the Apollo Church at Bawit in Egypt and Plate 25.1 of the apse fresco in Chapel 6 of the same church, now in the Coptic Museum in Cairo, Inv. No. 1220. BeltingIhm, “Theophanic Images of Divine Majesty,” 42-59, esp. 47 and figs 2, 7, 8.

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The altar is the place where the Eucharist is celebrated and so one aim of these apsidal images is the portrayal of the meeting between God/Christ and the faithful that takes place during the celebration of the Eucharist, when the offering of bread and wine is changed into the body and blood of Christ. The apse seeks to signify the uniting of Heaven and Earth that occurs during this miracle. The way this is done varies. In Rome the meeting occurs on the banks of the Jordan, and God may be represented separately by the hand of God in the apex of the apse holding a triumphal wreath, as at Santi Cosma e Damiano (fig. 9-4). The links here are with Peter and Paul, the two apostles particularly linked with Rome, though other saints and patrons can be present. Similar imagery can also be found at Ravenna in San Apollinare in Classe, and (without the hand of God) at San Vitale. Where angels and archangels are present they may communicate with saints and patrons. Old Testament prophets do not generally figure in these apses. In contrast the Eastern preference is for apses reflecting Old Testament meetings between God and the prophets Ezekiel and Isaiah, both of which involved the presence of terrifying angels who are close to God not man. Nearness to the sun and to the heavens can also be indicated by symbols for the sun and the moon. The mandorla emphasises the fiery tension in the encounter, also forming part of the throne of God or, in New Testament imagery based on these texts, of Christ’s throne, which the tetramorphs provide the motive force for when he travels from heaven to make contact with his prophets or with Christians on earth. Saints or patrons are not inserted in these scenes, although “first hierarchy” angels may be present. Where tetramorphs were depicted alone, as on the Rhipidium, a link to the altar during the celebration of the Eucharist fits this interpretation. The apse at Santa Maria Antiqua merges these Eastern and Western elements. It has a starry sky, but no sign of a mandorla. Christ is depicted actively engaged in direct communication with Pope Paul through the intercession of Mary, so echoing standard Roman apsidal imagery. By merging aspects of what had become the usual Roman apsidal imagery with Eastern iconography, Christ with his tetramorphs is brought more directly into the earthly sphere and apocalyptic implications are reduced.

V. Interpretation So if this innovative imagery had strong links with the East, why was it chosen for this church? To begin to address this question, the Biblical context and how this was interpreted by the Church Fathers will be explored. 47

See for example the Codex Aureus of Echternacht of 1031 in the Nuremburg National Museum MS 156142/KG1148.

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a. The Biblical Context In Ezekiel 2:3-7, God appears, surrounded by angels and transported by the four living creatures, and tells Ezekiel: [3] ... I send thee to the children of Israel, to nation’s apostates which have revolted from me: they, and their fathers, have transgressed my covenant even unto this day. [4] And they are children of an hard face, and of an heart that can not be tamed, to whom I send thee ... [5] If perhaps they at the least will hear, and if perhaps they will cease, because it is an exasperating house, and they shall know that there was a prophet in the midst of them. [6] Thou, therefore ... fear them not, neither be afraid of their words: because the incredulous and subverters are with thee; and thou dwellest with scorpions. Fear not their words, and of their looks be not afraid: because it is an exasperating house. [7] Thou therefore shalt speak my words to them, if perchance they will hear, and be quiet, because they are provokers to anger.

God is telling Ezekiel to adhere to God’s message and not modify it even if the Israelites are “rebellious” (he uses this word four times) “impudent children and stiff-hearted” and ignore him: God’s messengers should follow God’s will even if their message is rejected and they are reviled. In Isaiah 6:1-10 God purifies Isaiah and consecrates him to his task of messenger: [6] And one of the seraphims flew to me, and in his hand an hot coal, which he had taken ... from the altar. [7] And he touched my mouth, and said: “Behold this hath touched thy lips, and thine iniquities shall be taken away and thy sin shall be cleansed.” [8] And I heard the voice of our Lord saying: “Whom shall I send? and who shall go for us?” And I said, “Lo, I am here, send me.” [9] And he said: “Go, and thou shalt say to this people: ‘Hear ye that hear, and understand not, and see vision and know it not.”

Again Isaiah is being sent to exhort the people to hear God’s message, even though they will ignore him. This scene is depicted in a ninth-century illustration from the Christian Topography of Cosmas Indicopleustes, probably based on a seventh-century lost original (fig. 9-11).48 Here, again, Christ substitutes for God, 48

According to Kurt Weitzmann and George Galavaris, The Monastery of S Catherine at Mount Sinai: The Illuminated Greek Manuscripts, Vol. I: From the Ninth to the Twelfth Century (Princeton N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1990), 62-3, the Christian Topography of Cosmas Indicopleustes is preserved in three copies from the Byzantine period: an eleventh-century copy belonging to the Laurentian library in Florence, and containing the whole work except only the last leaf; one from the ninth century belonging to the Vatican Library (Vat Grec 699), containing copies of the sketches but wanting entirely the twelfth

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and, the arrangement of Christ and the seraphims echoes that in the apse fresco at Santa Maria Antiqua. Several Church Fathers replace God by Christ, when writing of this passage in Isaiah, including Eusebius of Caesarea (c. 263-c. 339), in his Commentary on Psalms,49 Theodoret of Cyrus (c. 393-c. 457) in his Commentary on Ezekiel,50 and Gregory the Great (590-604) in his Homilies on Ezekiel, who includes a statement there on the nature of Christ.51

Fig. 9-11: Drawing of a Manuscript illumination showing the Vision of Isaiah, from the Christian Topography of Cosmas Indicopleustes, Vat. Grec. 699, Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana and last book and the eleventh-century Sinait. Gr. 1186 at St Catherine’s monastery, Mount Sinai. A fourth copy from the fourteenth century containing only some fragments (Smyrna B-8) was destroyed in a fire in 1922. For a facsimile of the images in Vat Grec 699, see Cosimo Stornajolo, ed., Le miniature della Topografia Cristiana di Cosma Indicopleuste : Codice Vaticano Greco 699 (Milano: U. Hoepli, 1908). 49 Eusebius of Caesaria, ̉Yπομνήματα εἰς τοὺς ψαλμούς, Patrologiae Graeca 23: 956. 50 Theodoret of Cyrus. Ἑρμηνεία τῆς προφητείας τοῦ θείου Ἰεζεκιήλ, Patrologia Greca 81:836. 51 Gregory the Great, Homilies on Ezekiel, Homily 8, Chapter 25. For a French translation, see Gregory the Great, Homélies sur Ézéchiel, ed. and trans. Charles Morel, Sources Chrétiennes, 327 (Paris: Les Editions du Cerf, 1986-90), 313. For a fuller treatment of this point see Angela Russell Christman, What did Ezekiel See? (Brill: Leiden, 2005), 30-5.

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b. How did the Church Fathers interpret these Texts? Irenaeus of Lyon,52 Origen (c. 185-c. 254), Jerome (c. 347-420) (who first translates Origen’s Homilies in 410, before writing his own commentary),53 and Gregory the Great54 all wrote on Ezekiel. They interpreted the four heads on the body of one living creature as representing the unity of the Old and New Testaments and the unity of Christian doctrine throughout Christendom. Thus Irenaeus in his Adversus Hereses quotes Ezekiel’s vision of four living creatures to support his contention that there must be four gospels, no more, no less: the Word, the Artificer of all, He that sitteth upon the cherubim, and contains all things, He who was manifested to men, has given us the Gospel under four aspects, but bound together by one Spirit ... for the cherubim too were four-faced and their ... images ... the dispensation of the Son of God.55

So Irenaeus equates the four living creatures with cherubim and their four faces pre-figure the four gospels and the advent of Christ. Gregory the Great wrote 26 homilies on Ezekiel, eight devoted to Chapter one. Gregory endorses Irenaeus’s position, developing his argument into an exegesis on the unity of the gospels. 56 If you ask what Matthew thinks about the Incarnation of the Lord, it is obviously what Mark, Luke and John think ... Therefore, each had four faces, since in each one the knowledge of faith (notitia fides) by which they are known by God, is what is

52

Irenaeus did not write specifically on Ezekiel but quoted him extensively in his Adversus Haereses, especially in Book III. English translation: Irenaeus of Lyon, The Writings of Irenaeus, Bishop of Lyon, trans. Alexander Roberts and William Rambaut (Edinburgh: T and T Clark, 1868), 287-96. For a discussion on his writings in this context, see Christman, What did Ezekiel See?, 13-7. 53 Origen, Homélies sur Ézéchiel, trans. Marcel Borret, Sources Chrétiennes, 352 (Paris: Éditions du Cerf, 1989); an English translation is in Origen, “Origen: Homily 1 on Ezekiel,” trans. Joseph Trigg, in Ascetic Behaviour in Graeco-Roman Antiquity, ed. Vincent I. Wimbush (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1990), 45-65; Jerome, Commentariorum in Hiezechielem, ed. Francisci Glorie, Corpus Christianorum Series Latinorum, 75 (Turnhout: Brepols, 1964), 410-14. 54 Gregory the Great, Homilies on Ezekiel. Christman, What did Ezekiel See?, 13-33, provides an in depth treatment of the vision of the four living creatures as interpreted by the church Fathers. 55 Irenaeus of Lyon, The Writings of Irenaeus, 293. 56 Gregory the Great, Homilies on Ezekiel, Homily 3, Chapters 1 and 2. French translation: Gregory the Great, Homélies sur Ézéchiel, 119-23. See Christman, What did Ezekiel See?, 18, 23-9, for further development of this aspect of Gregory’s interpretation. The extension to the present church is dealt with at page 19 and note 21.

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Gregory then extends the bridge between God and the Prophet Ezekiel to include Christ’s followers in the present church, so including the pope, the clerics at Santa Maria Antiqua and others.58 Gregory says that such Christians, who aspire to become “perfect” on their journey to God, are like the four living creatures, and the journey of such members of the church echoed Christ’s journey. 59 Finally Gregory emphasises that since the creatures are unable to deviate from their path (Ezekiel 1:12): And they went every one straight forward: whither the spirit was to go, there they went; and they turned not when they went.

So, for a Christian, temporalities lie behind, the realities of eternity in front, and one moves forward in search of eternity, without turning aside.60 Irenaeus, Jerome, and Gregory all link the four creatures to the individual evangelists and their gospels, although in slightly different ways (table 9-1), and it is Gregory’s linking that finally prevails. Irenaeus concludes that: a four-fold gospel ... is united by one spirit and is reflected in the cherubim’s four faces which are “images of the Son of God’s works.”61

57

Gregory the Great, Homilies on Ezekiel, Homily 3, Chapter 1. The English translation is from Christman, What did Ezekiel See?, 20. 58 St Paul first used the word “perfect” for Christians who had obtained the wisdom of God in I Corinthians 2:6-7: “Howbeit we speak wisdom among them that are perfect ...[7] ... the wisdom of God in a mystery ... which God ordained before the world unto our glory.” Gregory defines the term more precisely as those who have progressed from a beginner to become close to God, in his Moralia in Job: 11:46:62. For a French translation, see Grégoire le Grand, Morales sur Job, ed. and trans. Aristide Bocognano, Sources Chrétiennes, 212 (Editions du Cerf: Paris, 1974), 120. 59 Gregory the Great, Homilies on Ezekiel, Homily 4, Chapter 2. Gregory the Great, Homélies sur Ézéchiel, 150-3. 60 Gregory the Great, Homilies on Ezekiel, Homily 3, Chapter 17. French translation: Gregory the Great, Homélies sur Ézéchiel, 142-3. 61 Christman, What did Ezekiel See?, 13-20; Wilhelm Neuss, Das Buch Ezechiel in Theologie und Kunst (Munster im Westfalia: Aschendorffsche Verlagsbuchhandlung, 1912).

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Tetramorph Man

Lion Calf/Ox

Eagle

The Evangelists and the four living creatures 62 Christ’s Gospel attribution Gospel attribution (Jerome and attributes (Irenaeus) Gregory) (Irenaeus) Advent Matthew: Gospel opens Matthew: As for Irenaeus among with Christ’s genealogy human and emphasises his beings humility and gentleness Imperial John: Starts with the Mark: Because his gospel and royal Word and describes his begins with a voice crying in qualities origin from the Father the wilderness Sacrificial Luke: Begins with the Luke: As for Irenaeus and priest Zachariah priestly offering sacrifice to roll God Gift of the Mark: Gospel quotes John: The eagle points to John spirit from the prophets in the by virtue of its lofty opening first chapter hovering ‘In the beginning was the over the Word’ church

Table 9-1

c. The Overall Message So the Church Fathers emphasised both the unity of the true faith, the eternal union of God and Christ in both the Old and New Testaments, and the importance of keeping to the truth as received from God, and progressing always towards him without deviating or looking back. The Biblical texts themselves stressed the duty to tell those who strayed from the taught truth about their errors, however difficult that might be. In this way, following repentance, forgiveness and a return to the Church is possible. The Fathers also linked Ezekiel, Christ and God in a seamless chain leading to the faithful on earth, characterised in the apse by Christ’s representative on earth, Pope Paul, an intercessor to Christ within this vision.

62

Irenaeus of Lyon, Adversus Haereses, Book III, Chapter 11. English translation: The Writings of Irenaeus, 293. Jerome, Commentariorum. Gregory the Great, Homilies on Ezekiel, Homily 4, Chapter 1. French translation: Gregory the Great, Homélies sur Ézéchiel, 148-51.

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Some earlier writings had been developed in response to pagan criticism of apparent inconsistencies between the contents of the four gospels. The Church responded with active steps to emphasise their consistency. At one stage combining elements from the four books into one integrated Gospel, such as the second-century Diatessaron became popular.63 But by the eighth century such pagan criticism had been overcome and there must be other reasons for using this imagery in this church.

d. Liturgical Aspects of the Apse Fresco The Eucharist was celebrated at the main altar, so the presence of a centrally placed image of Christ appropriately marks where the body and blood of Christ become manifest during the service. Instead of the Eastern mandorla, Roman custom typically invoked heaven by the hand of God holding a crown over Christ’s head at the apex of the conch, as occurs at Santi Cosma e Damiano (fig. 94). Plaster losses at Santa Maria Antiqua make it uncertain whether this symbol was present in this conch. In Rome Christ typically appears with the apostles, not with angels, perhaps because of Rome’s close association with St Peter.

VI. Contemporary Political and Doctrinal Issues Relevant to the Iconography of the Fresco Two particular pre-occupations of the papacy in the middle of the eighth century were: x x

The iconoclastic policies of the Eastern Emperors Leo III (717-41) and Constantine V (741-75) which were being pursued with increasing vigour; and The fact that Byzantium no longer had the means to defend the Byzantine West from invasion, especially by the Lombards.

Irritation over lack of support became sufficient in the 720s for Pope Gregory II (715-31) to refuse to pay increased taxes demanded by Byzantium (themselves under attack).64 The nadir in Byzantine-papal relations is demonstrated by the 63

Carl Nordenfalk, “An illustrated Diatessaron” The Art Bulletin 50 (1968): 119-40. For the text of the Diatessaron in English, see http://www.earlychristianwritings.com/text/diatessaron.html 64 Vita of Gregory II, in Le Liber Pontificalis, vol.1, 396-414, esp. 403-4; The Lives of the Eighth-Century Popes, 3-16, esp.10.

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failed plot hatched by the Exarchy at Ravenna to invade Rome and kill the pope. The Duke of Rome appears to have also been implicated. 65 The plot failed; the Lombards supporting the papacy, two of the leaders of the plot were killed, a third was jailed in a monastery.66 In spite of these unsatisfactory relations with the Byzantines, Gregory crushed moves in Venice and Ravenna to create a new emperor.67 But attempts on the pope’s life continued over the following years. 68 Papal-imperial relations on doctrinal issues worsened as imperial attachment to iconoclasm strengthened. Gregory III (731-41) even went so far as to hold a synod which excommunicated all iconoclasts, including Emperor Leo III.69 This provoked a Byzantine expedition against the pope, which failed. 70 The emperor then confiscated the papal patrimonies in Sicily, Calabria and Illyrium, a serious loss of revenue. Iconoclasm also produced a significant flow of Eastern refugees into Rome, many being monks expelled from their monasteries as iconodules. The flow increased when the Council of Hiereia, endorsed the doctrine of iconoclasm in 754.71 That same year Pope Stephen II agreed a treaty with the Franks at Ponthion, which he hoped would establish and safeguard the Papal States, so marking the beginning of the end of papal support for Byzantine rule.

65

Thomas F. X. Noble, The Republic of St Peter: The Birth of the Papal State (680-825) (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1984), 28-30. 66 Noble, The Republic of St Peter, 28-30; David Harry Miller, “The Roman Revolution of the Eighth Century: A Study of the Ideological Background of the Papal Separation from Byzantium and Alliance with the Franks,” Mediaeval Studies 36 (1974): 79-155, esp. 101-2; Vita of Gregory II, in Le Liber Pontificalis, vol.1, 396-414, esp. 403-4; The Lives of the Eighth-Century Popes, 3-16, esp.10; Paul the Deacon, Historia Langobardorum, eds Ludwig Bethmann and Georg Waitz, MGH SS rerum Germanicorum in usum scholarum separatim editi, 48 (Hanover, Hahn, 1978), 181. 67 Noble, The Republic of St Peter, 32, quoting the vita of Gregory II. 68 As in n. 64, esp. Noble, The Republic of St Peter, 34; Miller, “The Roman Revolution,” n. 55. 69 Vita of Gregory III, in Le Liber Pontificalis, vol. 1, 415-25, esp. 416-17 and n. 12; The Lives of the Eighth-Century Popes, 19-28, esp. 22-3. See also Peter Llewellyn, Rome in the Dark Ages (London: Constable, 1971), 128-9. 70 Miller, “The Roman Revolution,” 79-150, esp. 111; Le Liber Pontificalis, vol. 1, 415-17, and n. 42; The Lives of the Eighth-Century Popes, 20-1. 71 Sacrorum Conciliorum Nova et Amplissima Collectio, ed. Johannes Domenicus Mansi, vol. 13(Paris: Hubert Welter, 1903-27), 207; Noble, The Republic of St Peter, 28-30, suggests it was only attended by iconoclast monks but Cyril Mango, “Historical Introduction,” in Iconoclasm, eds Anthony Bryer and Judith Herrin (Birmingham: Centre for Byzantine Studies, 1977), suggests that it was attended by “practically all the Eastern bishops” since 338 bishops attended. Heiria (now called Fenerbahçe) was a suburban palace outside Constantinople.

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a. Paul I and the Iconoclastic Policies of the Eastern Empire The reluctance of the papacy to sever relations with the Byzantine Empire is clear from their continuing efforts to sway the Byzantines on doctrinal issues. Pope Paul’s vita in the Liber Pontificalis says:72 He strenuously defended the orthodox faith, which is why he frequently sent his envoys with apostolic letters to entreat and warn the Emperors Constantine and Leo to restore and establish in their erstwhile status of veneration the sacred images of our Lord God and Saviour Jesus Christ, his holy mother, blessed apostles, and all the saints, prophets, martyrs and confessors.

Paul wrote numerous letters on iconoclasm both to the emperors and to the Franks.73 The papacy considered Leo III and his son Constantine V strayed outside their imperial remit of managing temporal matters on behalf of God, wandering into the management of doctrinal issues, the province of the papacy. Paul I skilfully strengthened the Franko-papal alliance. He contributed to negotiations between Byzantines and Franks around the Synod of Gentilly at which the Franks themselves addressed the issue of iconoclasm. 74 Papal lobbying of Byzantium continued against the background of Eastern allegations that the primicerius Christopher was forging or altering papal letters, a charge firmly denied by Paul. 75 Sometimes the papal messenger, delayed, even held captive en route in Sicily, presumably on imperial orders, failed to reach Constantinople. 76 The emperors appeared prepared to go to considerable lengths to avoid even having to acknowledge papal concerns about iconoclasm. It is in the light of these competing forces that some aspects of the iconography of the apse at Santa Maria Antiqua come into focus.

72

Vita of Paul I, in Le Liber Pontificalis, vol. 1, 463-7. The English translation used here is from The Lives of the Eighth-Century Popes, 79-83, esp. 81. 73 See the vitae of Popes Stephen II and Paul I, in Le Liber Pontificalis, vol. 1, 440-62, 4637; The Lives of the Eighth-Century Popes, 52-75, 79-83. Also the various letters in the Codex Carolinus, 16. 74 David Harry Miller, “Byzantine Papal Relations during the Pontificate of Paul I: Cooperation and Completion of the Roman Revolution of the Eighth Century,” Byzantinische Zeitschrift 68 (1975): 47-62, esp. 59-60. 75 Peter Llewellyn, Rome in the Dark Ages, 220. Codex Carolinus, 16. 76 Stephen Gero, Byzantine Iconoclasm during the Reign of Leo III; with Particular Attention to the Oriental Sources (Louvain: Secrétariat du Corpus SCO , 1973), 346; Le Liber Pontificalis, vol. 1, 463-7.

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b. The Iconoclast Doctrine on Images The apse at Santa Maria Antiqua depicts Christ between two angels. Images of Christ and of angels particularly concerned iconoclasts, since these were deemed “uncircumscribable”, consisting of spiritual elements not amenable to accurate representation by artists.77 The causes of iconoclasm were complex; concern about the representation of images had always been present within the Church. 78 As early as the fourth century, Epiphanius of Salamis (315?-403) had stated: If someone endeavours to perceive the divine character of the holy Logos in the flesh, out of material colours ... [let him be anathema].79

Epiphanius was clear that angels, though lesser than God and able to appear to man, being spiritual and bodiless, were debased and diminished by being portrayed on wood as dead and lifeless matter.80 In contrast, of course, Gregory the Great had seen them as bibles for the illiterate.81 Variations in beliefs about images only mattered doctrinally when emperors became interested in enforcing their views. Leo III took the first steps against images from the 720s.82 Constantine V convened the Council of Heireia in 754 and ordered a review of patristic literature to produce the Florilegium of evidence which gave the policy doctrinal backing. 83

77 Glenn Peers, Subtle Bodies, representing angels in Byzantium (London: University of California Press, 2001), 67-71, esp. 65; Paul J. Alexander, “The Iconoclast Council of St. Sophia (815) and its Definition (Horos),” Dumbarton Oaks Papers 7 (1953): 35-66; Epiphanius of Salamis, see Epiphanius of Constantia, Contra octoaginta haereses opus: Panarium, sive arcula, aut capsula medica appellatum, continens libros tres, & tomos sive sectiones ex toto septem ... Item, ejusdem D. Epiphanii Epistola, sive Liber ancoratus appellatus ... Anacephaleosis, sive summa totius operis Panarii appellati ... De mensuris ac ponderibus, & de asterisco ab obelo / ... Omnia per Janum Cornarium ... Latine conscripta ..., in Contra Octoaginta Haereses Opus, ed. Janus Cornarius (Basilea: Joannes Hervagium and Oporinum, 1560). 78 Useful surveys of iconoclasm can be found in Anthony Bryer and Judith Herrin, eds, Iconoclasm (Birmingham: Centre for Byzantine Studies, 1977); André Grabar, Iconoclasme byzantin (France: Flammarion, 1984/1998). 79 Peers, Subtle Bodies, 63-6, esp. 65. 80 Ibid. 81 Celia Chazelle, “Memory, Instruction, Worship: ‘Gregory’s’ Influence on Early Medieval Doctrines of the Artistic Image,” in Gregory the Great: A Symposium, ed. John Cavadini (Notre Dame and London: University of Notre Dame Press, 1995), 181-213, esp. 181. 82 Gero, Byzantine Iconoclasm. 83 Cyril Mango, “Historical Introduction,” in Iconoclasm, eds Anthony Bryer and Judith Herrin (Birmingham: Centre for Byzantine Studies, 1977), 1-6; Gero, Byzantine Iconoclasm.

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Initially, therefore the dispute on both sides drew from the writings of the Church Fathers, only later did each side develop their own defence of the doctrine. 84 Three years after Heireia, when Paul became pope, Constantine V was putting increasing pressure on those still venerating images. Although all documented cases of persecution are from after 760, Patriarch Germanos of Constantinople (715-30) writing sometime after 730 in his De Haeresibus et synodis speaks of widespread persecution of monks, priests and laymen, being driven into exile.85 Paul’s vita reports his establishment in 761 of a monastery in his own house on the via Lata, where services were to be said “in the Greek manner”, suggesting an influx of “Greek” monks needing somewhere to stay and papal sympathy for their plight.86 The church of Santa Maria Antiqua had already been the site of imagery underlining papal opposition to the emperor. One hundred years before, when Martin I (649-53/5) was pope, monks who were refugees from the Eastern heresy of Monothelitism had arrived in Rome and made a crucial contribution to the Roman synod condemning this heresy. 87 Images summarising conclusions in the Acts of the Synod had been painted in the sanctuary there at that time. 88 Although these images were now covered by later frescoes, many of these included Greek inscriptions, suggesting continuing Eastern influence.89 The fact that the Georgian apse including tetramorphs came from a monastery church, may be an accident of survival, but many monastic orders felt a strong affinity with angels, modelling their lives on them and striving to become spiritual like them. Maximus the Confessor in his Four hundred Chapters on Love, encourages monks to seek “the unutterable peace of the holy angels.”90 St Cuthbert’s earliest vita reports that:

84

Mango, “Historical Introduction,” 1-6, esp. 2-3. Ibid., 3-4, quoting Patriarch Germanos, Πρὸς ’Άνθιμον διάκονον λόγος διηγηματικὸς, Patrologia Greca 98:80. 86 Le Liber Pontificalis, vol. 1, 463-6; The Lives of the Eighth-Century Popes, 79-83. John Norman Davidson Kelly, Oxford Dictionary of Popes (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1986), 82-93, esp. 93.The church of San Sylvestro in Capite is now on this site and contains some eighth century remains, see Juan-Santos Gaynor and Ilario Toesca, S Silvestro in Capite (Rome: Edizioni "Roma", 1963). 87 Vita of Martin I, in Le Liber Pontificalis, vol. 1, 336-40; The Book of Pontiffs, 70-3. 88 Nordhagen “The Earliest Decorations.” 89 Per Jonas Nordhagen, “The Frescoes of John VII (A.D. 705-7) at S Maria Antiqua in Rome,” Acta, Institutum Romanum Norvegiae 8 (1968); Sansterre, Les Moines Grecs, 1612. 90 Maximus the Confessor, Maximus the Confessor: Selected Writings, trans. George Charles Berthold (New York: Paulist Press, 1985), 79. This translates an unpublished critical text established by Aldo Ceresa-Gastaldo in 1963. 85

The Meaning of the Eighth-Century Apsidal Conch at S Maria Antiqua in Rome 209 He cared for the poor ... and protected widows and orphans that he might merit the reward of eternal life amid the choirs of angels.91

Angelic imagery here may therefore also be evoking monastic as well as papal preoccupations.92 It is in this context that Paul authorised an apsidal image of himself being presented to a Christ flanked by tetramorphs.

c. The Meaning of the Apse at Santa Maria Antiqua in the Context of Iconoclasm Two doctrinal, and one liturgical readings are possible, not mutually exclusive. The papacy, as successors to Peter, saw its remit as the defence of Orthodoxy (by which it meant the doctrine agreed at Chalcedon). 93 The conch fresco at Santa Maria Antiqua, by invoking the visions of Ezechiel and Isaiah, as well as suggesting Eastern influences, draws attention to the importance those charged with transmitting God’s Word on earth attached to standing firm against heretical ideas (often referred to as “novelties” in the Acts of the various Councils). The position of the pope, in communication with Christ, emphasises this responsibility. Even more obviously, by permitting his image with Christ to appear on a new apse in the very centre of Rome, Paul underlined papal resistance to the doctrine of iconoclasm and his support for images. The composition includes Christ and angels, the two most objectionable images for iconoclasts. The presence of Eastern iconodule monks in Rome may explain the unusual mixing of Eastern and Western elements. In liturgical terms, Christ between the starry sky of Heaven and the Earth, occupied by the pope, signified the miracle of the Eucharist, when Christ’s body and blood appeared in the offerings on the altar. Authorising such an image would have reassured the Roman populace, always anxious about the maintenance of orthodoxy, that the pope would resist imperial threats. It is tempting to think that the pope placed the emperor and his supporters in the category of “impudent children and stiff-hearted” with himself as a latterday Ezekiel. Certainly the image permits a strong statement of support for images through a scene evoking God rebuking those who fall from the right path. The texts and biblical references would have been well known to the pious in the West. 91

Vita of St Cuthbert by Anonymous, Chapter I: ut mercedem uitae aeternae inter choros angelorum. For text and English translation, see Two Lives of S Cuthbert, trans. Bertram Colgrave (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1940, re-issued 2007), 112, 113. On page 13 Colgrave dates the text to between 699 and 705. 92 Peers, Subtle Bodies, 126-8. 93 F. L. Cross and Elizabeth A Livingstone, eds, Oxford Dictionary of the Christian Church, 2nd edn (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1974), 262.

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Furthermore, the tetramorphs, as symbols of the unity of New and Old Testament and of the four gospels, implied that the pope desired doctrinal unity between East and West. Apart from reassuring the Romans, this was a congenial apse for worshippers in the church, especially if they were “Greek” monks. But how likely is it that the emperor, and/or his representatives in the Exarchy in Ravenna and Rome were intended audiences and received the message? Would reports of this apse be sent to Constantinople? Information on the use of the Palatine in the eighth century is limited.94 It is not clear how many Byzantine officials continued in Rome, but the infrastructure of Byzantine political oversight was still present. Plato, the father of Pope John VII, was an official of the Byzantine administration, responsible for maintaining the fabric of the Palatine offices. 95 A coin of the Exarch Paul (723-6) was found in the lower peristyle of the Domus Augustiano on the Palatine. The mint at Ravenna continued to issue Byzantine gold coins and folles at least until 741,96 so some official activity probably continued in the Forum and Palatine. 97 The various changes in taxes imposed, as outlined above, required an administration to collect them. The reports of plots to kill the pope suggest a Byzantine presence still to be reckoned with that would report back to Constantinople. Even if, as Augenti has shown, by the end of the eighth century, the Palatine was increasingly colonised by the papacy, no doubt in the 760s some administrators remained, and reporting on the activities of the pope and of the immigrant “Greek” monks, must have been among their priorities.98 Therefore the Exarchy and the emperor might also hear about the apse and take note. Even so, why choose this church?

VII.

The Status of Santa Maria Antiqua

Why would Pope Paul choose this relatively small church and diaconate, possibly run by “Greek” monks, if he was hoping his actions would be reported to 94

Andrea Augenti, Il Palatino nel Medioevo: Archeologia e topographia (secolo VI-XIII) (Roma: ‘L’Erma’ di Bretschneider, 1996), 46-60, esp. 46. 95 Vita of John VII, in Le Liber Pontificalis, vol. 1, 385-7; The Book of Pontiffs, 90-1. 96 Augenti, Il Palatino nel Medioevo: Archeologia, 234, quoting Warwick Wroth, Catalogue of Imperial Coins in the British Museum, vol. 1 (London: British Museum, 1908), ciii; I. Mauli, “Le zecche nell’antica Ravenna (402/404-751),” Felix Ravenna, 3rd series, 33 (1961),79-134, esp. 84. 97 André Guillou, Regionalism et Independance dans l’Empire Byzantin au VIIieme Siecle: l’Example de l’Exarchate et de la Pentapole d’Italie (Rome: Istituto Storico italiano per il Medio Evo, 1969), 234-6. 98 Augenti, Il Palatino nel Medioevo: Archeologia, 48, 58, and figs 24, 30.

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the East? Surely the natural site for a political statement would have been the Lateran Basilica, the “cathedral” of Rome and site of papal administration? In fact, Santa Maria Antiqua was the obvious site for any politico-religious pictorial missive, whether to the Romans or to the Byzantines. As mentioned above (Section VI:c) it had functioned in a similar way about 100 years before when Monothelitism, a “novel” proposal on the nature of Christ from Emperor Constans II (641-68), asserting that Christ had two natures but only one mode of activity (μία ἐνέργεια) had been anathematised by a Lateran Synod. 99 “Greek” monks had been involved then and Pope Martin I sent copies of the Acts of the Synod, to Εastern and Western bishops as well as to the emperor. He, or his supporters, had the four Church Fathers depicted on the sides of the triumphal arch of the main apse of Santa Maria Antiqua, each father holding a scroll bearing an extract from their writings that had been quoted in the Synodal Acts. 100 The emperor certainly paid attention to this act of disobedience; incensed, he had Martin arrested, taken to Constantinople, tried and banished to Cherson on the Black Sea, where he died in exile. 101 This church, therefore, had a reputation for acting as a billboard for papal statements on doctrinal issues when there were disputes with the Eastern Empire. When Pope John VII repainted the apsidal area of the church, he painted over these frescoes, but kept the reference to the martyred Martin alive by depicting him, now nimbed as a martyr saint, in his procession of popes either side of the apsidal conch.102 John VII’s frescoes still decorated the apse, the procession of popes either side of apsidal conch. So Paul linked into powerful papal and imperial memories when he chose this site for a statement on the latest Eastern heresy: iconoclasm.103 No doubt the powerful memory of this earlier implacable papal stand when Christian doctrine was at issue was remembered by both sides, and a new pictorial message to the emperor would remind him of the papacy’s unwavering opposition to “novelties”. The activities of “Greek” monks in Rome were undoubtedly a regular topic for reports, given Rome’s reputation for providing support for them.

99

Vita of Martin I, in Le Liber Pontificalis, vol. 1, 336-40; The Book of Pontiffs, 70-3; Cross and Livingstone, Oxford Dictionary of the Christian Church, 932. 100 Rushforth, “Church of S Maria,” 66-73. 101 Vita of Martin I, in Le Liber Pontificalis, vol. 1, 336-40; The Book of Pontiffs, 70-3. 102 Nordhagen, “The Frescoes of John VII.” 103 Rushforth, “Church of S Maria.”

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VIII. The Power of Images in the Eighth Century In an age of constant bombardment with images the attention a single image might have generated in the eight century can easily be underestimated. But contemporary texts leave one in no doubt that images were powerful social forces capable of provoking riots. When the Monothelite Emperor Philippikos Bardanes (711-13) deposed Justinian II (685-95, 705-11) his first action was to destroy the image of the Sixth Ecumenical Council that had anathematised Monothelitism in the imperial palace in Constantinople.104 He then commissioned images of Patriarch Sergios of Constantinople (610-38) and Pope Honorius (625-38) who had been anathematised at the same council to replace them. On the dome of the Milion he left images of the first five councils, with his own image and that of the Patriarch Sergios in the centre.105 After Philippikos was deposed by Emperor Anastasios II (713-15), the images of Philippikos and the Patriarch were removed, and an image of the Sixth Council returned to the space beside the other five: a veritable “war of images” in itself. According to the vita of Stephen the Younger, the images of the councils in the Milion were indications of the doctrine that all imperial subjects were expected to adhere to. All official processions and journeys into the empire set out from the Milion.106 In 764 these images were removed again when Constantine V replaced them by pictures of the races in the Hippodrome as one of his earliest iconoclastic acts. 107 When the Romans heard of Philippikos’s removing the images of the councils, there was rioting in the streets, people refused to allow images of the emperor into their churches or to use coins with his image on them.108 While an element of hyperbole in the source is possible, the fact that the Romans were also provoked to erect images of the six ecumenical councils in the narthex of St Peter’s to underline their position suggests that feelings did run high.109 Similar images were made in Naples at a later date.110 So clear evidence exists of a strong response

104 Letter of the Deacon Agathon to Pope Constantine (708-15) in 714 quoted in Grabar, Iconoclasme byzantin, 66-110, esp. 101. The image was in the outside part of the palace, “between the fourth and sixth schola.” 105 Vita of Constantine, in Le Liber Pontificalis, vol. 1, 389-95; The Book of Pontiffs, 66110, esp. 72-82. 106 Grabar, Iconoclasme byzantin, 74-5, 104, n. 7. 107 Ibid., 75, 102, extract 4. 108 Vita of Constantine, in Le Liber Pontificalis, vol. 1, 389-95; The Book of Pontiffs, 91-5; Grabar, Iconoclasme byzantine, 77. 109 Grabar, Iconoclasme byzantin, 74, 102; Le Liber Pontificalis, vol. 1, 391. 110 Ibid., 103, extract 3. Bishop Stephen of Naples, in 766/7 had images of the six ecumenical councils placed in the narthex of the church of St Peter that he built in Naples,

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from the citizens of two major cities of the empire to the way imagery was used. Later on in Rome, Pope Leo IV (847-55) placed an image of a synod that had anathematised the Roman cleric Anastasius, for failing to attend to his duties in Rome, plus an accompanying explanatory text, in St Peter’s. On the death of Leo, Anastasius, hoping to become pope himself, entered St Peter’s and had the image destroyed. Pope Benedict III (855-8) who actually succeeded Leo, immediately had the image replaced.111 In all of these examples images were clearly seen as powerful supports for statements or for actions defending Christian doctrine. The passions generated on both sides with respect to the iconoclast controversy are themselves further evidence of the strong emotions that attached to holy images. It was because they were seen as so powerful that their banning had become the subject of imperial policy. The meaning and reception of this apse at Santa Maria Antiqua and its political and doctrinal intentions should be assessed in this context.

IX. Conclusions After such a long period it is impossible to be certain about the purpose of this image. But both its iconography and its position suggest that it was the product of a collaboration between the papacy and “Greek” monks, many in Rome as refugees from the iconoclast policies of the emperor. As John Damascene (d. 749) the iconodule said: inasmuch as a man has no direct knowledge of the invisible (his soul being covered by his body), or of things that are severed and distant from him in space, being as he is circumscribed by place and time, the image has been invented for the sake of 112 guiding knowledge and manifesting publicly that which is concealed.

The inherent ambiguity of images can be both an advantage and a problem. They permit their creators to hint at things they dare not say or write, while also permitting multiple meanings to be understood from single compositions. Apart from the straightforward liturgical function that this image served in this church, it is possible to read into the composition many other meanings see Gesta episcoporum Neapolitanorum, ed. Georg Waitz, in MGH SS rerum Langobardicarum et Italicarum saec. VI-IX (Hanover: Hahn, 1878), 426. 111 Grabar, Iconoclasme byzantin, 75, 103, extract 5, from the Chronicle of Hincmar Agobardus. 112 John Damascene, Πρός τοὺς διαβάλλοντας τὰς ἁγίας εἰκόνας, Patrologia Greca 94:1337-8. English translation taken from Cyril Mango, The Art of the Byzantine Empire 312-1453 (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1972) 171.

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appropriate to when it was created. It could express the pope’s wish that the Eastern Church should return to the fold and abandon the iconoclast heresy, providing another route by which he might hope that his message might reach the emperor when more conventional routes were failing. Its position cannot have been an accident. It could not avoid reminding the emperor both of the previous actions of his predecessors, and of the papacy’s immovability on doctrinal issues. The image of Christ in majesty supported by tetramorph angels, with the pope in the position the Prophet Ezekiel or Isaiah might be expected to occupy, establishes the pope, not only as Peter’s successor but also as successor to the prophets, who themselves carried out God’s will against the opposition of his chosen people. The image cleverly combines Roman iconography, making it accessible to the Roman viewer, with Eastern imagery that is nevertheless associated with Gregory the Great because of his extensive writings on the theme of Ezekiel. Overall here there is a much stronger and more direct message here for the emperor than the pope would have dared to write. An excellent example of the power of images at a period when they were most contested. This apse is now a damaged shadow of the original, but in the eighth century it would have been seen as a powerful and effective statement of the value of images and of the determination of the papacy to maintain their doctrinal supremacy and eschew all heretical ideas, while at the same time seeking to remain united doctrinally with the East–for all were part of the one Christian faith. In the twentieth century it is easy to underestimate the power of images, so many surround us, but in the eighth century they were rarer, more expensive to produce, could have a quasi-legal status and were capable of generating much more emotion. This composition was, however, pertinent to its time and probably that is why it does not appear to have ever been copied. Once the Eastern Empire rejected iconoclasm in the ninth century, no further ecumenical councils were convened, and there was no need for this iconography. Fortunately this conch has survived over 1300 years, its splendid and unique iconography a record of the dialogue and disputes between the Eastern Empire, on the one side, and the papacy and “Greek” monks, on the other, in which images played a major political part at all levels.

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Delbrueck, Richard. “Der Südostbau am Forum Romanum.” Jahrbuch des Deutschen Archäologischen Instituts 36 (1921). De Rossi, Giovanni Battista. La Roma Sotterranea Cristiana: Descritta ed Illustrata dal cav, 3 vols. Roma: Cromolitografia Pontificia, 1864-77.

Gaynor, Juan-Santos, and Ilario Toesca. S. Silvestro in Capite. Rome: Edizioni "Roma", 1963. Gero, Stephen. Byzantine Iconoclasm during the Reign of Leo III, with Particular Attention to the Oriental Sources. Louvain: Secrétariat du Corpus SCO, 1973. Gero, Stephen. Byzantine Iconoclasm during the Reign of Constantine V; with Particular Attention to the Oriental Sources. Louvain: Secrétariat du Corpus SCO, 1977. Grabar, André. Iconoclasme Byzantin. France: Flammarion, 1984/1998. Gruneisen, Wladimir. Sainte Marie Antique. Rome: Max Bretschneider, 1911. Guillou, André. Regionalism et Independance dans l’Empire Byzantin au VIIieme Siecle: l’Example de l’Exarchate et de la Pentapole d’Italie. Rome: Istituto Storico Italiano per il Medio Evo, 1969. Ihm, Christa. Die Programme der Christlichen Apsismalerei vom Vierten Jahrhundert bis zur mitte des Achten Jahrhunderts. Wiesbaden: Franz Steiner Verlag, 1960. Kelly, John Norman Davidson. Oxford Dictionary of Popes. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1964 and 1986. Krause, Elke. Schätze der Berliner Museen. Berlin: Berlin Information, 1983. Krautheimer, Richard, Spencer Corbett and Wolfgang Frankl. Corpus Basilicarum Christianarum Romae, 5 vols. Città del Va ticano and New York: Pontificio Istituto di Archeologia Cristiana, Institute of Fine Arts, 1937-77. Llewellyn, Peter. Rome in the Dark Ages. London: Constable, 1971. Mango, Cyril. Materials for the Study of the Mosaics of St. Sophia at Istanbul. Washington: Dumbarton Oaks Research Library and Collection, 1962. Mango, Cyril. “Historical Introduction.” In Iconoclasm, edited by Anthony Bryer and Judith Herrin, 1-6. Birmingham: Centre for Byzantine Studies. 1977. Mango, Cyril. The Art of the Byzantine Empire 312-1453. Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1972. Mauli, I. “Le zecche nell’antica Ravenna (402/404-751 DC).” Felix Ravenna, 3rd series, 33 (1961): 79-134. Miller, David Harry. “The Roman Revolution of the Eighth Century: A Study of the Ideological Background of the Papal Separation from Byzantium and Alliance with the Franks.” Mediaeval Studies 36 (1974): 79-155. Miller, David Harry. “Byzantine Papal Relations during the Pontificate of Paul I: Cooperation and Completion of the Roman Revolution of the Eighth Century.” Byzantinische Zeitschrift 68 (1975): 47-62.

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Morganstern, J. Review of S Michele in Africisco zu Ravenna: Bauerschichtliche Untersichungen, by Peter Grossman. American Journal of Archaeology 80 (1976): 108-9. Netzer, Nancy. Cultural Interplay in the 8th Century. The Trier Gospels and the Making of a Scriptorium at Echternach. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1994. Neuss, Wilhelm. Das Buch Ezechiel in Theologie und Kunst. Münster im Westfalia: Aschendorffsche Verlagsbuchhandlung, 1912. Noble, Thomas F. X. The Republic of S Peter: The Birth of the Papal State (680825). Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1984. Nordenfalk, Carl. “An Illustrated Diatessaron.” The Art Bulletin 50 (1968):119-40. Nordhagen, Per Jonas. “The Earliest Decorations in Santa Maria Antiqua and Their Date.” Acta, Institutum Romanum Norvegiae 1 (1962): 53-72. Nordhagen, Per Jonas. “The Frescoes of John VII (A.D. 705-7) at S Maria Antiqua in Rome.” Acta, Institutum Romanum Norvegiae 3 (1968). Nordhagen, Per Jonas. “S Maria Antiqua: the Frescoes of the Seventh Century.” Acta, Institutum Romanum Norvegiae 8 (1979): 89-142. Oakeshott, Walter. The Mosaics of Rome: from the End of the Third Century to the Fourteenth Century. London: Thames and Hudson, 1967. Osborne, John, J. Rasmus Brandt, and Guisseppe Morganti, eds. Santa Maria Antiqua al Foro Romano centi anni dopo. Rome: Campisano Editore, 2004. Peers, Glynn. Subtle Bodies, Representing Angels in Byzantium. London: University of California Press, 2001. Rubery, Eileen. “Pope John VII’s Devotion to Mary: Papal Images of Mary from the 4th to the Early 8th Century.” In The Growth of the Cult of the Virgin Mary, edited by Chris Maunder, 155-99. London: Continuum Press, 2008. Rushforth, Gorden McNeill. “The Church of S. Maria Antiqua.” Papers of the British School at Rome 1 (1901): 1-123. Sansterre, Jean-Marie. Les Moines Grecs et Orientaux à Rome aux Epoques Byzantines et Carolingienne. Brussels: Palais des Academies, 1980. Spieser, Jean-Michel. “The representation of Christ in the Apses of Early Christian Churches.” Gesta 37 (1998): 63-73. Stornajolo, Cosimo, ed. Le miniature della Topografia cristiana di Cosma Indicopleuste: codice vaticano greco 699. Milano: U. Hoepli, 1908. Tea, Eva. La Basilica di Santa Maria Antiqua. Milan: Societa Editrice “Vita e Pensero”, 1937-45. Van Berchem, Marguerite Gautier, and Étienne Clouzot. Mosaïques Chrétiennes du IVme au Xme siè cle . Genève: Les Presses de l’Imprimerie du Journal de Genève, 1924. Velmans, Tania. “L’Image de la Déisis dans les Églises de Géorgie.” Cahiers Archeologiques 29 (1980): 47-102.

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Velmans, Tania, and Adriano Alpago Novello. Miroir de l’Invisible: Peintures Murales et Architecture de la Gé orgie (VIe-XVe Siècle). Saint-Léger-Vauban: Zodiaque, 1996. Vikan, Gary. “Rhipidion with Tetramorph.” In Age of Spirituality: a Symposium, edited by Kurt Weitzmann, 617-18. New York: Metropolitan Museum of Art, 1980. Weitzmann, Kurt, and George Galavaris. The Monastery of S Catherine at Mount Sinai: The Illuminated Greek Manuscripts, Vol. I: From the Ninth to the Twelfth Century. Princeton N J: Princeton University Press, 1990. Wilpert, Joseph. Die Römischen Mosaiken und Malereien der Kirchlichen Bauten vom IV. bis XIII. Jahrhunder, 4 vols. Freiburg im Breisgau: Herder, 1917. Wroth, Warwick. Catalogue of the Imperial Byzantine Coins in the British Museum, 2 vols. London: British Museum, 1908.

“FRANKISH” OR “BYZANTINE” SAINT? THE ORIGINS OF THE CULT OF SAINT MARTIN IN DALMATIA TRPIMIR VEDRIŠ This paper grew out of my research in Dalmatian hagiotopography and was originally meant to contribute to a scholarly discussion about the extent and the character of Byzantine presence in Early Medieval Dalmatia. As my work progressed, its focus became more and more narrow. From the bold and ambitious attempt to use local hagiotopography in order to identify and reconstruct a “sense of belonging” to the Byzantine Empire, in Early Medieval Dalmatia, it became a case study of the history of the cult of a saint not at all Byzantine at a first glance. Remembering the original inspiration of my enterprise, I would like to depart from the broader historical context, or, more precisely, the traditional narrative of the Byzantine presence in the Adriatic. Namely, the traditional master narrative maintains that the areas along the eastern Adriatic coast were under Byzantine rule from late antiquity (at least the age of Justinian (527-65)) until the late eleventh century.2 Scholars who sought to prove the “real presence” of the Byzantine

Besides the II Postgraduate Forum in Byzantine Studies: Sailing to Byzantium, portions of this paper were presented at the conference European Symposium on St Martin of Tours: Slovenia and Central European Countries on St Martin’s Trail, held in Slovenska Bistrica (October 11–13, 2007). An earlier version of the paper was published as Trpimir Vedriš, “Češčenje svetega Martina v Dalmaciji v pozni antiki in zgodnjem srednjem veku [The cult of St Martin in Dalmatia in Late Antiquity and the Early Middle Ages],” in Sveti Martin Tourski kot simbol evropske culture, ed. Jasmina Arambašić (Celovec-Ljubljana: Mohorjeva družba, 2008), 92-106. The initial direction for my research owes much to discussions with Nikola Jakšić and Marina Vicelja–Matijašić. I am especially grateful to Marianne Sághy for encouragement, comments and corrections. Magdalena Skoblar, Nikolina Maraković and Ivan Basić read draft of the paper and I am grateful for their comments. 2 Cf. Jadran Ferluga, L'amministrazione bizantina in Dalmazia (Venice: Deputazione di storia patria per le Venezie, 1978); Jadran Ferluga, Byzantium on the Balkans: Studies on the Byzantine Administration and the Southern Slavs from the VIIth to the XIIth Centuries (Amsterdam: Adolf M. Hakkert, 1976). Ferluga’s views were revised and supplemented by Ivo Goldstein, Bizant na Jadranu: od Justinijana I. do Bazilija I [Byzantium in the Adriatic

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Empire in the Adriatic have often referred to hagiotopography, and with good reason. The earliest hagiotopography of the region clearly attests that the Dalmatian islands and cities (especially the ones included in the Byzantine thema throughout the Early Medieval period) are “studded” with churches dedicated to “Byzantine” saints, probably the most popular of them being St Michael, St George, St Cosmas and Damian and St Nicholas. These tituli, along with the cults of the urban patron saints, many of which were certainly introduced as part of Byzantine foreign policy,3 supports the hypothesis of a significant Byzantine presence in this period.4 Despite the relatively “thick layer” of the saints of Eastern origin in the medieval Dalmatian sanctorale, extant liturgical evidence rarely preserves elements of Greek liturgy or Byzantine cult of the saints. Even though stylistic and architectural elements indicate Byzantine influence in Late Antique and Early Medieval Dalmatia, Greek liturgy is poorly attested in medieval Dalmatian cities (at least in Lower Dalmatia). Likewise, Greek epigraphic finds are extremely scarce after the sixth century. A few known Greek fragments (a fragment of the Gospel from an altar slab in Zadar, an inscription on a sarcophagus from Split and a few more) seem to be the only remaining Greek inscriptions from Early Medieval Lower Dalmatia. Apart from a few words scattered here and there, local hagiography shows no trace of contemporary Byzantine hagiography. All this evidence, taken together, shows that, even though many saints of Eastern origin from Justinian I to Basil I] (Zagreb: Latina et graeca, 1992); Jadran Ferluga, “Byzantium on the Adriatic from 550 till 800,” Hortus Artium Medievalium 4 (1998): 7-14; Jadran Ferluga, “The Disappearance of Byzantine Rule in Dalmatia in the 11th Century,” in Byzantium and East Central Europe, 129-39, eds Günter Prinzig, et al. (Cracow: Historia Iagellonica, Jagellonian University, 2001); Jadran Ferluga, “O naravi bizantske prisutnosti na istočnojadranskoj obali 6-12. stoljeća [On the character of the Byzantine presence on the eastern Adriatic coast],” Radovi Zavoda za hrvatsku povijest 24 (1991): 5-13. For a contradicting view, see Mladen Ančić, “The Waning of the Empire. The Disintegration of Byzantine Rule on the North Adriatic in the 9th Century,” Hortus Artium Medievalium 4 (1998): 15-24; Mladen Ančić, “Lombard and Frankish Influences in the Formation of the Croatian Dukedom,” in L’Adriatico dalla tarda antichità all’età carolingia. Atti del convegno di studio Brescia 11-13 ottobre 2001, eds Giampietro Brogiolo and Paolo Delogu (Firenze: Insegna del Giglio, 2005), 213-28. 3 Cf. John Osborne, “Politics, Diplomacy and the Cult of Relics in Venice and the Northern Adriatic in the First Half of the Ninth Century,” Early Medieval Europe 8/3 (1999): 369-86. 4 Besides the tituli of, often solitary, churches which remain today as the last signposts of Justinian’s Adriatic limes marittimus the majority of the urban patron saints from the period between the mid-sixth and late-twelfth centuries are as a rule of East Roman/Byzantine origin (e.g. Rovinj (Mons rubeus): St Euphemia of Chalcedon; Rab (Arba): St Christophorus; Zadar (Iadera): St Anastasia of Sirmium (also St Chrysogonus of Aquileia and Agape, Chionia and Irene of Thesaloniki), Trogir (Tragurium): St John the Almsgiver of Alexandria; Split (Aspalatum): St. Domnius of Antioch; Dubrovnik (Ragusa): St Sergius and Bacchus; Kotor (Decatera): St Trypho etc.).

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were venerated in Early Medieval Dalmatia, their cult was as a rule substantially transformed in the centuries to come and as a result, they lost their distinctive “Greek” or “Byzantine” features.5 The vast majority of the saints in question in fact belong to an earlier period. This observation not only calls for the scrupulous analysis of the evidence about “Byzantine Dalmatia”, but also reminds us that the same evidence should be used with the utmost caution. In order to place my work in a broader context of research on local hagiotopography, I will distinguish (however tentative and introductory they be) three particular chronological layers of the “Dalmatian hagiographic map”. The period of the “initial Christianisation” of Dalmatia (fourth to fifth centuries) is the first, when eastern Mediterranean influence is reflected both in the actual presence of Christians from the East and the spread of the cults of Eastern saints. The second phase is Justinian’s reconquista and its aftermath in the mid-sixth century which left a strong impact on the hagiotopography of the region. As the result of the vigorous building activity one discovers the traces of an almost “programmatic” introduction of saints’ cults along the newly established limes marittimus in Dalmatia. In the context of the late sixth and seventh centuries one should also regard the problem of the destiny of the populations whose flight from the hinterland Illyricum to the coast is attested both in epigraphic inscriptions (e.g. the tomb of Abbess Marina from Sirmium in Salona) and the translation of the cults (e.g. St Quirinus of Siscia to the island of Krk). The third, “Byzantine hagiographic” layer is to be connected to the early ninth-century influx of the Byzantine relics into the cities on the Adriatic coast. This element reflects a largescale political action, the first to be documented after the reconquista of Justinian.6 The local hagiotopography, combined with the evidence from other types of sources, preserves valuable reminiscences of the Byzantine oikoumene. Still, the paucity of sources as well as the ambivalence of the ones at our disposal hardly allows one to use this evidence for the simplistic discussion pro or contra the Byzantine presence in the Adriatic during the Early Middle Ages. In the light of these observations, I hope that the present case study (tentative as it is) will illustrate the complexity which one has to face when dealing with the region where so many political and cultural influences overleapt. 5

Formally, as a whole, local Dalmatian hagiographic production fits better Western and Latin hagiography rather than contemporary Byzantine. Besides many literary aspects of this distinction, unlike contemporary Greek hagiography of surrounding areas (Greece, Southern Italy), there are no contemporary Early Medieval Byzantine saints in any of these accounts. 6 What remains uncertain is the outcome or the success of this action. While the traditional scholarship saw the period of the ninth century as the time of the recovery of the Byzantine rule in Dalmatia, some scholars attempted to break this representation (cf. Ančić, “Waning” and his references to the studies of Roberto Cessi.

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I. The Geographical Framework and the Problems of the Research The main objective of this paper is to discuss the problem of the chronological layers of the cult of St Martin of Tours and the directions of its dissemination in the territory of Late Antique and Early Medieval Dalmatia (more precisely, within the Croatian principality and in the neighboring cities of central Dalmatia) between the fifth and ninth centuries. This research has more questions than answers. The major problem is the absence of written sources that would clarify who spread the cult of St Martin in this region and when. Due to the paucity of written data, I will mostly rely on archaeological, hagiotopographical, and art historical evidence. 7 At the present state of research it is hardly possible to provide any firm conclusions. Yet, I hope that this work will inspire or initiate further study of the matter. If one is to judge from the extant hagiotopographical evidence, Martin seems to have been one of the most popular medieval saints in the territories that constitute modern Republic of Croatia.8 A recent project identifies more than 85 sites connected to the cult of St Martin in the region roughly corresponding to the Roman province of Dalmatia. 9 Out of this relatively large number, Badurina, the author of the Hagiotopography of Croatia, has considered only two churches as Late Antique and some fifteen more as Early Medieval ones. 10 Although I find this interpretation problematic, it is certainly interesting that the majority of these sites are important for the research in the period of the “Croatian national dynasty” (c. 830-c. 1100), the period in which, as put by the same author, one is to seek the origins of the cult of St Martin in Croatia. According to his view this three7

The original intention to examine the cult of St Martin of Tours in the territory of Late Antique province of Dalmatia should have also included the evidence from the neighbouring areas of Istria and Lower Pannonia. However, the quantity of evidence and the problems it raises made me narrow down the frame of the investigation and, as a result, these two regions were left out of this paper. 8 St Martin comes as “the eight” saint, after St John the Baptist, St Nicholas, St Peter (and Paul), St Michael, St George, St Anthony of Padua, and St Roch. Cf. Anđelko Badurina, Hagiotopografija Hrvatske [Hagiotopography of Croatia], CD-Rom (Zagreb: IPU, 2006). 9 The project covers the southern part of the Roman province of Dalmatia mostly leaving out modern Bosnia. 10 To illustrate some of the problems it suffices to overview the results of the project which show that a very large number of sites connected to the cult of St Martin consist of hagiotoponyms or churches known only from written sources. Another large portion of the standing churches were, at least in their existing form, built or dedicated to St Martin in the Late Middle Ages, or even later periods. While many preserved toponyms certainly do reflect the existence of the cult at some time, for many of the standing churches it is hardly possible to find out when they were actually dedicated to of St Martin. Cf. Badurina, Hagiotopografija.

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Fig. 10-1: Late Antique Dalmatia and Early Medieval Croatia

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hundred year period witnessed two major “building waves”: the first being connected to Carolingian “re-Christianisation” of the Dalmatian hinterland in the ninth century, and the second to the “Golden Age” of the Croatian kingdom in the eleventh century. While there is ample evidence of the cult of St Martin in the later periods, the introduction of the cult into the Croatian principality is, according to many authors, to be connected to the Carolingians. 11 The relation between the rise of the cult of St Martin in Dalmatia and the Frankish missionary activities in the Early Medieval Croatian principality in Dalmatian hinterland has already been pointed out by scholars. This theory has been in fact repeated so regularly that it became a topos in Croatian literature touching upon the medieval cult of St Martin. There is, on the other hand, a recent tendency in Croatian scholarship to connect the emergence of the cult to the period of Justinian’s reconquista.12 Considering the former as a still prevailing paradigm, I shall depart from the “Carolingian thesis”. Namely, the cult of St Martin is often, and to a large extent justly, perceived as closely connected to the “Frankish monarchy”.13 The cult that developed around the saint’s relics in Tours was an important focus of the Merovingian “royal memory”. This formed an important link between the early cult of St Martin and its “political” use by the Carolingians.14 Martin’s Pannonian origin, as recently stressed, might have indeed served as an ideological cover or the “spiritual patronage” of the Carolingian conquest of Illyricum.15 With regard to the Carolingian use of the cult of St Martin in the missionary activities in central and south-eastern Europe,16 the multitude of 11

As the most recent ones, see Badurina, Hagiotopografija; Antonija Zaradija-Kiš, Sveti Martin: kult sveca i njegova tradicija u Hrvatskoj [St Martin: The cult of the saint and his tradition in Croatia] (Zagreb: Institut za etnologiju i folkloristiku, 2004), 111-13. 12 Nikola Jakšić, “Preživjele ranokršćanske crkve u srednjovjekovnoj Ninskoj biskupiji [Surviving Early Christian churches in the medieval bishopric of Nin],” Diadora 15 (1993): 129-30; repeated in: Nikola Jakšić, “La survivance des édifices paléochretiéns dans les terre de la principauté Croate,” Hortus Artium Medievalium 1 (1995): 43; further elaborated in: Nikola Jakšić, “Patron Saints of the Medieval Gates in Dioceletian’s Palace,” Hortus Artium Medievalium 9 (2003): 187-94. Other authors sharing this view will be referred to in the text. 13 For the traditional view on this, see Eugen Ewig, “Le culte de saint Martin de Tours à l’époque franque,” Revue d’Histoire de l’Eglise de France 47 (1961): 1-18. 14 Although some elements of the traditional narrative were recently seriously criticised (cf. Allan Scott McKinley, “The First Two Centuries of Saint Martin of Tours,” Early Medieval Europe 14/2 (2006): 173-200, the associations of St Martin with the “Frankish monarchy” undoubtedly remain important in the history of the cult of St Martin in the Early Middle Ages. 15 Osborne, “Politics,” 384-5. 16 Important examples are mentioned in Bruno Judic, “Le culte de saint Martin dans le haut moyen âge et l’Europe centrale,” in Sveti Martin Tourski kot simbol evropske culture, ed.

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churches dedicated to St Martin in the Croatian principality seems to provide the evidence for Martin’s popularity among the élites of Early Medieval Croatia.17 There is no reason to doubt that the Frankish missionaries spread and promote the cult in Dalmatia, and that the cult was accepted by the Croatian élites. These two hypotheses bring us to the ninth century as the datum post quem the cult can be firmly attested. Martin’s Croatian destiny, however, was more complex. Beyond the more or less uncritically repeated “Carolingian thesis” and the recently advertised “Justinianic thesis” there are other reasons which must have contributed to the dissemination and popularity of the cult in the eastern Adriatic. Among these, I would like to call attention to yet another intriguing aspect–the possible early connections between the local Christian elites and Italian cult centres.18 In what follows, I shall take into consideration the problem of the chronology of the cult of St Martin in Dalmatia from three aspects: the “Late Antique” or preJustinian, the Early Byzantine, and the Carolingian layers will be examined. The starting point of my inquiry is the fact that a relatively considerable number of the medieval churches dedicated to St Martin in Dalmatia were actually built upon Late Antique or Early Byzantine sanctuaries. 19 On the basis of architectural evidence, some of them show clear signs of extensive reconstructions after Justinian’s Gothic wars, but many of them can be dated to a period before the reconquista.

Jasmina Arambašić (Celovec-Ljubljana: Mohorjeva družba, 2008), 32-44. I am very grateful to the author who allowed me to consult the paper before it was published. 17 For the Carolingian influence in the formation of Croatian principality: Nikola Jakšić, et al., Hrvati i Karolinzi [The Croats and the Carolingians] (Split: MHAS, 2000); Carlo Bertelli, et al., Bizantini, Croati, Carolingi: Alba e tramonto di regni e imperi (Brescia– Milano: Skira, 2001). 18 Along these “three layers”, one should certainly raise the question of the role of the Benedictines in the propagation of the cult of St Martin. Yet the question of the Benedictine role in the dissemination of the saint’s cult, overshadowed by a more general unsolved problem of Benedictines’ arrival in Dalmatia, should remain open. At the present state of research, I believe that the earliest Benedictine engagement should be discussed in the framework of Frankish missionary activities. 19 In the local Dalmatian chronology the tag “Late Antique” or “Early Christian” is usually used to describe the period between the early fourth and mid-seventh centuries. Cf. Pavuša Vežić, Zadar na pragu kršćanstva: Arhitektura ranoga kršćanstva u Zadru i na zadarskom području [Zadar on the threshold of Christianity: Early Christian architecture in Zadar and the Zadar area] (Zadar: Arheološki muzej Zadar, 2006), 5. However, the term “Late Antique” is used here voluntarily meaning “Pre-Justinian” (c. 313–535) in order to differentiate it from the (equally voluntarily chosen) term “Early Byzantine” which is used for the period after the reconquista of Justinian (roughly 535–640).

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II. The Cult before Justinian? The absence of local written evidence (including epigraphic inscriptions) discourages any attempt to seek the beginnings of the cult in Dalmatia during the fifth and early sixth centuries. Yet, recent studies of the earliest cult of St Martin provide for an inspiring point of reference. Arguing that there was, in fact, no homogenous and centralised cult in Gaul during the “first two centuries of St Martin”, McKinley in a recent paper deconstructed the perception of Gaul as the single important early centre of the cult from where it radiated to Christian Europe.20 From a different angle, Judic arrived at a similar conclusion, convincingly arguing that the most important early centre of the cult of St Martin might have indeed not been Gaul but Italy. 21 The central issue approached from the different perspectives by the authors of these valuable papers underlines two relevant directions for the research of the early cult of St Martin in Dalmatia: Both McKinley and Judic point out that instead of the relics, one should focus on the written accounts of the life and miracles of the saint, such as Sulpicius Severus’s Vita Martini, as well as the poems of Venantius Fortunatus and Paulinus of Périgueux. Once it is accepted that Italy was actually important centre of the dissemination of the cult in the fifth and early sixth centuries, Dalmatia is no longer to be perceived as the region too distant from the source of the cult to be worth examination. McKinley also observed that Sulpicius promoted his vision of Martin “from the retreat at a rural villa, rather than in association with any particular civitas.”22 I find this idea possibly highly relevant for the present inquiry. Although McKinley is sceptical about the evidence for the cult outside Tours during the fifth century, his observations about the social milieu in which the writings of Sulpicius came to circulate and in which the cult might have been fostered is very instructive.23 This line of argumentation also lies in the core of the argument of Judic when he stresses the importance of the Vita as opposed to that of the tomb as the focus of the cult.24 The well known statement of Sulpicius that 20

McKinley, “The First Two Centuries,” 179-81. Judic, “Le culte,” 33-4. 22 McKinley, “The First Two Centuries,” 182. Both Paulinus of Périgueux and Perpetuus, bishop of Tours (461-91), and one of the first promoters of his cult were members of the “senatorial”, villa-dwelling aristocracy (McKinley, “The First Two Centuries,” 187-8). 23 Ibid., 187. 24 McKinley’s opinion that “for much of the fifth century Martin appears likely to have been an obscure and unimportant saint” might (unexpectedly!) prove true for Gaul, but at the same time it is in the light of the evidence presented by Judic hardly convincing for Italy around 500. Although McKinley rightly notices that Italian evidence about the early devotion “seem to have some reliance on Sulpicius’s portrait,” he finds “little of this conclusive about a long-established Italian cult.” Ibid., 189, n. 68. McKinley’s thesis is 21

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his friend Postumianus spread his Vita S. Martini “not only in Italy, but throughout the whole Illyricum”25 provides the earliest reference to the cult “east of Italy”. The role of people like Postumianus or Paulinus of Nola in the dissemination of the cult should by no means be underestimated. As Paulinus himself testifies in a letter dated to c. 400, he shared his enthusiasm about Martin not only with famous Melania the Elder and with Bishop Nicetas of Remesiana in Dacia but also with “very many holy men”.26 At the same time, St Jerome, although he had a poor opinion about Sulpicius’s Vita, obviously knew about St Martin. 27 An important piece of evidence for the propagation of St Martin’s fame in the provinces east of Italy is a brief account of his life by the Greek historian Sozomen who compiled his Ecclesiastical History in Constantinople around 445. Sozomen seemingly knew not only Sulpicius’s writings, but also another, perhaps local tradition. 28 In the case of Jerome and Sozomen, further inquiry in the monastic circle of Aquileia, with which Martin might have been connected, may shed additional light on the possible routes of dissemination of the cult from northern Italy into Illyricum. 29 The popularity of Martin in the region is shown also by Martin of Braga (born c. 510-20 in Pannonia). He not only received his Christian name after his saintly compatriot, but also had a personal devotion to St Martin of Tours: already as bishop of Braga in Spain, he compiled a hymn in his honour and purchased his relics.30 It is not clear whether his veneration of St Martin was something homeambivalent at this point. Limiting his research to Gaul and dismissing the Italian cult in a single footnote, he failed to see what further conclusions may be drawn from his otherwise convincing observations. 25 Sulpicius Severus, Dialogus 3:17:4, see Sulpicius Severus, Dialogorum libri II, in Sulpicii Severi Opera, ed. Karl Halm, Corpus Scriptorum Ecclesiasticorum Latinorum, 1 (Vienna: Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaft, 1866), 215. 26 Paulinus Nolensis, Epist. 29:14, see Paulinus Nolanus, Epistule, ed. Wilhelm Hartel, Corpus Scriptorum Ecclesiasticorum Latinorum, 29 (Vienna: Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaft, 1894), 261. 27 On the probable references to St Martin in the exegetical works of Jerome, see Rajko Bratož, “Martin Tourski in njegovi stiki s Panonijo [Martin of Tours and his contacts with Pannonia],” Zgodovinski časopis 60/3-4 (2006): 277-8. 28 Sozomenus, Kirchengeschichte, eds Joseph Bidez and Gunther Christian Hansen, Die griechischen christlichen Schriftsteller, 50 (Berlin: Akademie Verlag, 1960), 38-42. Although one might object that it is not self-evident which of the two Illyrica Sozomen had on mind–it seems more likely that he meant “Western Illyricum” (the diocese of the Italian prefecture) and not the separate prefecture accordingly called “Eastern Illyricum”. 29 Cf. the paper by Alessio Peršič, “L’apporto delle fonti martiniane alle storiografia della spiritualità Cristiana aquileiese, riscoperta come incunabolo del monachesimo occidentale fra i secoli III e V,” in Sveti Martin Tourski kot simbol evropske culture, ed. Jasmina Arambašić (Celovec-Ljubljana: Mohorjeva družba, 2008), 144-60. 30 Cf. Bratož, “Martin Tourski,” 278-9.

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grown or rather an acquired taste that he developed during his sojourn in the West. In the light of this early evidence of the cult “east of Italy”, is it a mere speculation to suppose that, as the Vita S. Martini found its way to the members of the Late Antique “literary community”, it might have reached the same audience in Dalmatia? This information about the cult in Illyricum is certainly inspiring, but there is a serious problem that no local sources or direct evidence confirm these rather general notions. Therefore, to what extent is it justified to suppose the existence of the cult in Dalmatia not only before the Franks but also before Justinian’s conquest? As for the Early Byzantine period, written evidence is nonexistent. Yet, on the more general level, antique hagiotopography as well as numerous archaeological finds speak in favour of the survival of the local Roman population beyond the fifth and sixth centuries.31 From the point of local archaeological evidence the Late Antique, pre-Justinian period in Dalmatia might be divided into two significantly different phases: the “Constantinian period” (30779) which saw only the “shy emancipation” of the first urban Christian communities, and the second, the “Theodosian period” (379-527), which experienced the building of the first larger Christian complexes. 32 It is during the later period that the private villae as the centres of economic and other activities of Late Antique elites were equipped with the earliest type of Christian funeral and memorial buildings. The existence of these first ecclesiae paganae (oratoria and ecclesiae in the rural hinterland) shows the preservation of classical relations between the urbs and its agricultural suburbia. The size and complexity of some of these churches built inside the villae rusticae of Christian landowners reflect the development of Christian religious life beyond the frame of family practices (the building of baptisteries!). A brief survey of the chosen sites in the surrounding of Zadar (Iader) will suffice to present the possible relevance (also the weaknesses!) of the proposed hypotheses. According to recent excavations it is possible to trace roughly 45 villae rusticae in the modern diocese of Zadar. Out of 12 sites with Early Christian churches identified inside the villae, 5 are in some way connected to St Martin. Each of the sites would certainly require scrupulous and separate investigation, but a brief overview of some aspects might prove useful for further discussion. The northernmost locality is the site of a villa with preserved church architecture called Mratinja (S. Martinus) on the island of Vir. In the second locality called Debeljak,

31

For the rich material for the discussion of the problem of continuity-discontinuity in Dalmatia is to be found in: Starohrvatska spomenička baština–rođenje prvog hrvatskog kulturnog pejsaža [Old Croatian heritage: Birth of the first Croatian cultural ambient], eds Miljenko Jurković and Tugomir Lukšić (Zagreb: MGC, 1996). 32 Dalmatia was ruled by the Goths for half a century (c. 475–c. 535).

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Fig. 10-2: Late Antique sites connected to the cult of St Martin in the surroundings of Zadar (after Vežić, Zadar)

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close to the village of Sukošan (S. Cassianus),33 there was a medieval church dedicated to St Martin (completely destroyed in the war of 1991) which lay in the close vicinity of a yet unearthed villa with an Early Christian church of an unknown dedication.34 The third site of interest is the church in the village Neviđane on the island of Pašman, dated to the late fifth century on the basis of contemporary finds in its surrounding. 35 The medieval cemetery church of St Martin in the village of Lepuri36 fared as bad as the one in Sukošan; it was razed to the ground during the war of 1991. This, however, proved to be a lucky chance for the archaeologists, who, beneath the remains of the medieval walls, unearthed a Late Antique church and found many fragments of Early Christian church furniture and decorative pieces of architecture.37 The church, built close to a Roman villa or vicus, was originally a memorial church, which, in the second building phase, became a complex basilica with annexes. It was thoroughly rebuilt in the mid-ninth century in the pre-Romanesque style and substantially reconstructed in the thirteenth to fourteenth centuries to finally acquire the shape in which it stood until 1992. So far it has often been interpreted as being dedicated to St Martin in the Early Medieval period while the previous titulus was considered unknown.38 The cemetery church of St Martin in Pridraga (medieval Sutmartindol or “St Martin’s dale”) is one of the best preserved Late Antique churches in Dalmatia (with the continuity of liturgical practice for 1500 years).39 This trefoil church built in the surroundings of a large villa rustica is, according to its architectural characteristics, dated to late fifth or mid-sixth century.40 According to the interpretation of Vežić, the church was originally a memorial chapel of the owner of the nearby villa while additional architectural elements (narthex, side spaces and baptistery) were probably added in the mid-sixth century. The exterior 33

Ante Uglešić, Ranokršćanska arhitektura na području današnje Zadarske nadbiskupije [Early Christian architecture in the territory of the bishopric of Zadar] (Zadar: Filozofski fakultet u Zadru–Zadarska nadbiskupija, 2002), 72; Vežić, Zadar, 106-7. 34 Fragments of the Early Christian church furniture were found in the ruins of St Martin. Vežić, Zadar, 107. 35 Ibid., 127; Uglešić, Ranokršćanska arhitektura, 95-7. 36 Uglešić, Ranokršćanska arhitektura, 67-9; Vežić, Zadar, 98-101. 37 Vedrana Delonga, “Predromanički natpisi iz crkve sv. Martina u Lepurima kod Benkovca,” Prilozi povijesti umjetnosti u Dalmaciji 35 (1995): 303-25, lists and analyses the fragments. 38 Uglešić, Ranokršćanska arhitektura, 69. 39 The church, as many other churches in the region, was heavily damaged in 1991. The most recent titles dealing with the site are: Uglešić, Ranokršćanska arhitektura, 52-6; Vežić, Zadar, 85-94. 40 Uglešić, Ranokršćanska arhitektura, 56.

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ambulatory (deambulatorium laterale) in the shape of porticos (porticati), reflecting particular liturgical features, was probably constructed at the same time.41 The example of Pridraga can be used in many ways as a paradigm for numerous other sites. In the first place, the church is built at some 300 metres distance from the villa which corresponds to a very similar situation in Muline (on the island of Ugljan), Bilice (near Skradin) and some other sites. One of the possible explanations for this dislocation of the churches from the living quarters might be seen in their function as cemetery churches.42 Secondly, at some 300 metres from St Martin there is a hexaconch Early Medieval church of St Michael (dated to late eighth to early ninth centuries). The proximity of these two tituli, although to my knowledge not emphasised by scholars, appears in a few localities in Dalmatia. Besides Pridraga and Neviđane, this combination is found in the vicinity of Split (Kaštela), on the island of Cres (Martinšćica-Miholašćica) and

Fig. 10-3: The church of St Martin in Pridraga (Photo: T. Vedriš) 41

Similar features connected to the processions in Santa Croce in Ravenna might reveal the source. Vežić, Zadar, 92. 42 Although proposed interpretation of the connection of the cult of St Martin and the dead might prove useful (cf. Zaradija Kiš, Sveti Martin, 47), I doubt whether it is relevant to the Late Antique layer of the cult in the region.

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possibly on some other sites. It might be tempting to interpret the vicinity of the two tituli as originating from the same background (Early Byzantine period of Justinian’s reconquista), but there is no evidence of the “synchronic” dedication of the churches to the Pannonian saint and the warrior archangel. Moreover, while the churches of St Martin (at least those in Pridraga and Neviđane) are, in architectural terms, undoubtedly Late Antique buildings, the sanctuaries of St Michael are of Early Medieval origin. This fact made archaeologist Uglešić to suppose that it was in fact St Michael who was the original patron of the churches in question, and who was later replaced by St Martin in the Carolingian period.43 In the light of this argument, the fact that pre-Romanesque churches of St Michael are built very close to the “original position” of the cult was interpreted as the wish to both preserve the older patron (Michael) and to introduce a new one (Martin). Although I do not find this interpretation very convincing (it obviously rests on the preposition that St Martin was the Frankish titulus), it is, at least to my knowledge, the only attempt to interpret this interesting “coincidence”. Certainly, it is not possible to find the right answers to this intriguing question at the moment; yet it should be addressed within a larger issue: the need to establish reliable “synchronic groups” of saints in the region.44 Another important site (outside the actual Zadar diocese) is the complex in Ivinj.45 There is a three-nave Late Antique basilica with a baptistery erected within the central complex of the villa and an Early Medieval church (possibly lateeleventh century) of St Martin at some 20 metres distance from it (also within the parameter of the villa). Although the titulus of the earlier church is unknown the dedication of the nearby church to St Martin was recently interpreted as evidence of the continuity of the cult of St Martin between the sixth and eleventh centuries.46 The fact that the Romanesque church was not built inside (or upon) the earlier church might point in the direction of a possible discontinuity of the cult practice, but the archaeological evidence (i.e. Early Medieval grave goods) seems to support the interpretation that the Late Antique church was used continuously

43

Cf. Uglešić, Ranokršćanska arhitektura, 56, 97. A useful catalogue (beside Badurina, Hagiotopografija and Zaradija-Kiš, Sv. Martin) was provided by Branka Migotti, “Naslovnici ranokršćanskih crkava u Dalmaciji [Patron saints of Early Christian churches in Dalmatia],” Arheološki radovi i rasprave 12 (1996). 45 Excavations starting in 1994 unearthed relatively large villa rustica (c. 2500 m2), the oldest phase dated to the first century. Basilica built inside villa was erected between the first half of the fifth and the second half of the sixth centuries. Magda Zorić, “Ivinj, ranokršćanska bazilika s krstionicom [Ivinj, Early Christian basilica with baptismal font],” Obavijesti Hrvatskog Arheološkog društva31/3 (1999): 103-8. 46 Vežić, Zadar, 95-6. 44

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until the Romanesque church was built. 47 If this interpretation is correct, Ivinj would be an example of the continuity of the ecclesiastical life, and, possibly, of the cult of St Martin between the late fifth (or sixth) and eleventh centuries.48 Even if these sites cannot provide an answer to the question posed at the beginning of this paper, they present evidence, however problematic and fragile, that does not allow us to disregard the possibility that local evidence might provide a positive counterpart to the general notions of the cult of St Martin in Illyricum. It certainly invites to further and more detailed inquiry of both the sites mentioned here as well as many other.49 Whatever will be the results, it is clear that, unlike in Pannonia where the survival of the Christian communities is questionable, abundant archaeological material testifies to the continuity of the cult practices in Dalmatia well beyond the second half of the sixth century.

III. The Justinian Conquest and the Early Byzantine Period (c. 535-c. 640) With the Gothic wars and Justinian’s renovatio we arrive at a firmer ground. In this period, Ravenna played a key role in the propagation of Martin’s cult. Theoderic’s palace church was rededicated by the Byzantines to St Martin, a fact which has already been used as an argument for the use of St Martin as an important symbol of “anti-heretical” agenda of Justinian’s reconquista. Leaving this otherwise very important issue aside, here I will examine only the chosen evidence for the spreading of the cult in post-Gothic Dalmatia. The evidence for dissemination of the cult is again at least ambiguous. There are no epigraphic inscriptions, no written evidence whatsoever and no secure dedication from the Early Byzantine centuries in Dalmatia. However, a relatively large number of churches dedicated at an uncertain time to St Martin were actually built or renewed during the period. What is highly significant, they are to be found not only in the Lower (Northern), but also in the territories of the Upper (Southern) Dalmatia, which were neither directly controlled by the Franks (as the district of Zadar) nor were part of the Croatian principality in the ninth century. Attempts to

47

Emil Hilje, “Kontinuitet murterskih ranokršćanskih crkava [The continuity of Early Christian churches on Murter],” Murterski godišnjak 2 (2004): 37. The church is in its present shape dated to twelfth-thirteenth centuries by the same author. 48 Ibid., 38. 49 I am grateful to Neven Budak for drawing my attention to the church of St Martin in Rab (Arba) which was originally built outside the city walls, possibly at the site of a Roman cemetery (cf. Neven Budak, “Urban Development of Rab–a Hypothesis,” Hortus Artium Medievalium12 (2006): 133.

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connect the churches like that in Žrnovo on one of the southernmost Dalmatian islands (Korčula) with Frankish influence are indeed far from convincing. 50 Relations between Northern Italy and Dalmatia had been strong even before the sixth century. The establishment of the exarchate under Justinian actually made Ravenna a centre of Dalmatia for more than two hundred years. Moreover, the period after Justinian’s Gothic wars saw the appearance of the first “Early Byzantine” elements in the local Dalmatian architecture. 51 This assumption, based on the study of the formal relations between the local evidence and the broader architectural and artistic trends, might prove a useful framework for establishing the directions (even if hypothetical) of the dissemination of the cult of St Martin and other cults in the sixth century. The introduction of new architectural and decorative elements corresponds well to the shift from what Vežić has termed “the first phase of spontaneous Christianisation” (exemplified in the private efforts of the landowners) to the more organised activities of the Church under Justinian, clearly attested in the large-scale adaptation and reconstruction of the ecclesiastical buildings.52 The constellation of archaeological evidence and historical situation supports the conclusion that this sixth-century change reflected not only the growing interest of the Dalmatian urban bishops in the Christianisation of the hinterland, but also the massive effort of Justinian in the reconstruction of the “infrastructures of the Empire” on the eastern Adriatic.53 Although it is impossible to compare the scale of the ecclesiastical building activity in Dalmatia to that in Istria (exemplified by Santa Maria Formosa in Pula (Pola), or by the Basilica Euphrasiana in Poreč (Parentium)), the erection of the new and the adaptation of the older Late Antique churches clearly reflects a large-scale activity.54 Justinian’s reconquista and its aftermath clearly correspond to the emergence of the cult of a recognisable group of “warrior saints” whose churches mark both the scope of

50

Cf. Zaradija Kiš, Sveti Martin, 126. The same objection applies to the hypothesis that the cult was promoted by Early Medieval Croatian elites. The existence of the shrines outside the territories controlled by Croats during the ninth to tenth centuries simply cannot be explained in this way. 51 Vežić, Zadar, 5. 52 Typical example is the shift from the funeral to congregational liturgical functions which is clearly reflected in the adaptation and enlargement of the churches. 53 Cf. Vežić, Zadar, 178. For the historical account of Byzantine reconquista of the Adriatic, see Goldstein, Bizant na Jadranu; Goldstein, “Byzantium.” 54 Although there were no hierarchical links between Zadar and Aquileia, strong cultural links connect them. Therefore, many local architectural elements were interpreted as reflecting Ravenna-Aquileian influence. Vežić, Zadar, 140. For the Byzantine “architectural presence” in Istria, see Marina Vicelja-Matijašić, Istra i Bizant [Istria and Byzantium] (Rijeka: Matica Hrvatska, 2007).

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“Justinian’s missionary activities” and the important route of the limes marittimus along the eastern Adriatic coast.55 The church of St Martin in Split (a small chapel constructed in the corridor above the northern gate (Porta aurea) of Diocletian’s palace and, in its present form, dated to eleventh century), was recently stressed as maybe the key argument for the Justinian-Ravennate origin of Martin’s cult in Dalmatia. Relying on the significance of the constellation of the patron saints of the four town gates (Anastasia, Apollinarius, Theodore, Martin) Jakšić argues for the Justinianic origin of these tituli. The proposed argumentation is further supported by the discovery of altar stipes dated to the sixth century. Although Jakšić’s dating of the churches “in the period right after the end of Gothic war of Justinian” cannot be considered “proven”,56 it is very acceptable.57 In the last decade, a number of scholars stressed the Justinianic origin of the cult of St Martin in Dalmatia. Chevalier finds it “likely that some of the Dalmatian Early Christian churches were dedicated to St Martin”, although she reminds of the fact that his cult might also indicate Frankish influence. Chevalier connects the proposed sixth-century dedication with the six churches (besides the mentioned Pridraga and Neviđene, those in modern-day Čepikuće and Martinšćica, Split and, possibly the one in Podstrana (Pituntium)).58 At a more general level, the proposal to connect the cult with Justinian’s period is also accepted by Čaušević, who notes other possible Late Antique churches on the island of Krk (Curictum).59 Observing that local historiography until recently interpreted the cult of St Martin as the “expression of Slavic Christianity emerging under Frankish influence,” Migotti situates the cult of St Martin in the “relatively reliable horizon

55 For the Byzantine “warrior saints” cf. Christopher Walter, The Warrior Saints in Byzantine Art and Tradition (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2003). 56 The same church was, in fact, used to argue for the Carolingian origin of the titulus (for Osborne, “Politics,” 385, the inscription on the altar screen is an “eloquent testimony to the Frankish penetration into Dalmatia”). The conclusion is, to my opinion, based on a problematic dating and interpretation and, therefore, not very convincing. 57 However, I do not find the author’s insisting on the dedication of another of the four churches to Anastasis and not St Anastasia, crucial for the argument. The Late Antique cult of the Sirmian martyr would also fit his interpretation well. 58 Pascale Chevalier, Ecclesiae Dalmatiae. L’architecture paleochrétienne de la province romaine de Dalmatie (IVe -VIIe s.), vol. 2 (Rome–Split: École française de Rome–Musée archéologique de Split, 1996), 44. 59 Morana Čaušević, “L’île de Krk dans l’Antiquité tardive” (Mémoire de D.E.A., Université Paris XII, 2005), 74-5, 98, 114, 122-3. Maybe the most interesting site is the one on the islet of St Mark where the church of St Martin might possibly be connected with Justinianic fortress situated on this important strategic post of the Adriatic limes. I am grateful to the author for providing me with the data from her yet unpublished M.A. thesis.

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Fig. 10-4: Late Antique-Early Byzantine churches of St Martin along the limes marritimus in Dalmatia

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of Justinian.”60 She even allows the possibility that many of the saints of this horizon might have arrived at Dalmatia even before Justinian. 61 Moreover, in her analysis of the Early Christian churches in central Dalmatia, Migotti concludes that at least four of them originated in Justinian’s period at latest (Podstrana, Pridraga, Split, Trogir) and considers eight more churches as probably originating from the same period (Diklo, Donje Selo, Ivinje, Lepuri, Mratovo, Sukošan, Sumartin, Vranjic).62 Although it is too early to make final conclusions about the churches dedicated to St Martin in the Late Antique-Early Byzantine Dalmatia the following map shows some of the sites relevant for further research. The choice is based on the existent work of the cited scholars, and will certainly need to be modified.63 St Martin, the “last of the Western saints to enter the Byzantine liturgical calendar”64 was, according to Sozomen, not only born in the “Eastern territory”, but he also spent some of his “philosophical life” in Illyria. Martin’s fight against the Arian heresy stressed both by Sulpicius and by Sozomen might have been used (as it seemingly derives from the famous re-dedication in Ravenna) as a symbol of anti-Arian and anti-Gothic agenda of Justinian’s reconquista and its aftermath. It is also clear that the Greek author of his eighth- to ninth-century Life, obviously free from the inhibitions of the Westerners against the military career of the saint, esteemed him as “high-ranking soldier of noble birth.” 65 All these features might have made St Martin an ideal choice for the spiritual patronage of Justinian’s reconquista of Gothic Dalmatia. 60

Branka Migotti, “Neka pitanja ranokršćanske hagiografije srednje Dalmacije [Some problems of the Early Christian hagiography of central Dalmatia],”Arheološki radovi i rasprave 11(1988): 156-7. 61 Ibid., 157-8. 62 Migotti, “Naslovnici,” 225. 63 For instance, I was informed by Basić about other highly relevant sites in Dalmatian hinterland such as: Mratovo near Drniš, St Martin in Gornji Tučepi, St Martin in Novljansko polje, St Martin in Podskoči near Bribir, St Martin in Grižane, St Martin in Drivenik, most of which are described as “Pre-Romanesque” For mostly technical reasons I have not included these sites in the present analysis. 64 Walter, Warrior Saints, 200. 65 Ibid., 201. It is, however, not without difficulties to interpret Martin as a “Byzantine warrior saint.” Martin was indeed commemorated in the Byzantine synaxaries (bearing, among other, the attribute στρατηλάτης), but his cult was seemingly not very popular in Early Medieval Byzantium. Moreover, the only Early Medieval Byzantine depiction of St Martin represents him as a bishop and not as a soldier (Menologium of Basil II, early eleventh century, see Walter, Warrior Saints, 201). For the place of the hagiography of St Martin in Byzantium cf. Troupeau, Gérard. “La vie de saint Martin dans les synaxaires des Eglises orientales.” Bulletin de la Société Archéologique de Touraine 44 (1995): 631-7. Once again, I am grateful to B. Judic for providing me with that article.

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IV. The Role of the Franks The Carolingians have obviously had an important role in the propagation of the cult of St Martin in the region after the ninth century.66 However, in the light of the presented evidence, the hypothesis that the cult of St Martin came to Dalmatia only with the Carolingians should be nuanced. The Germanic and Slavic intrusions did not completely destroy the Late Antique cultural and religious landscape in Lower Dalmatia. The network of sanctuaries created at the beginning of the Croatian principality did not start ex nihilo in the early ninth century but was very likely a large scale restoratio.67 Numerous examples illustrate the efforts of the Early Medieval Croatian ecclesiastical and lay elites in the restoration of the particular Late Antique churches. A ninth-century inscription from Begovača testifies to the adaptation and revitalisation of the fifth- to sixth-century church: (pr)O REMED(io) A(n)IME SVE REN(ovavit) HVNC TE(emplum).68 The same practice echoes in the warning of Pope Stephen VI (896-7) to Theodosios, bishop of Nin, that “all the churches which were destroyed through the wrath of the barbarians should be renovated” reminding the “bishop of the Croats” that “it should not happen to you, while establishing the new ones, that you would forget the old ones.”69 Although the “churches” here should probably be understood as the Churches and not the buildings70, this sentence also echoes the process, otherwise well attested, of a large scale renovatio of Late Antique churches (if in a reduced size) in the pre-Romanesque style in the period between the early ninth through the eleventh centuries.71 Yet, again, these general observations cannot prove the pre-Carolingian existence and continuity of the cult of St Martin. There is indeed no secure material evidence that Early Medieval churches in the Croatian principality were dedicated to the Pannonian saint before the arrival of the Franks. 66

The observation of Zaradija Kiš, Sveti Martin, 113 about the density of Martinian sanctuaries in the area of Nin, a region “especially important in the period of the Croatian rulers” is especially worth examination. 67 For a balanced account of the pre-Romanesque art in Dalmatia, see Željko Rapanić, Predromaničko doba u Dalmaciji [Pre-Romanesque period in Dalmatia] (Split: Logos, 1987). 68 Vedrana Delonga, The Latin Epigraphic Monuments of Early Medieval Croatia (Split: MHAS, 1996), 183. 69 Codex diplomaticus regni Croatiae, Dalmatiae et Slavoniae, vol. 1, ed. Marko Kostrenčić (Zagreb: Jugoslavenska akademija znanosti i umjetnosti, 1967), 21-2. et omnes ecclesie, que barbarorum rabie destructe sunt, assiduis precibus, ut restaurentur, imploramus, ita tamen, ut in novarum ecclesiarum restauratione neglectus non proveniat antiquarum. There is an ongoing debate whether the term ecclesie should be understood as buildings or Churches. 70 I am grateful to Mirjana Matijević Sokol for this observation. 71 Uglešić, Ranokršćanska arhitektura, 122. Details: Jakšić, “La survivance des édifices paléochretiéns,” 148-9.

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But, the interpretation of the cult as exclusively introduced by Carolingians in many cases also relies on the presumption of the Carolingian origin of the cult and not on textual or archaeological evidence. There is no proof that the Carolingian St Martin replaced an older titulus.The earliest written evidence of the cult of St Martin in medieval Dalmatia is preserved in the Chronicle of John the Deacon. Reporting on the peace treaty between the Venetian dux Peter Tradonicus and the Croatian dux Mislav (Muisclavus) in 839, the Venetian chronicler states that Peter “went to the place called sancti Martini curtis.”72 Scholars localised this otherwise unknown locality at various places, from Cres in the north to Podstrana in the south (although none of the proposed sites lay within the probable borders of the Croatian principality).73 Avoiding the debated issue of what curtis in Early Medieval Dalmatia actually meant, I would accept the opinion that it can be interpreted as residence of the local ruler.74 If it is accepted that sancti Martini curtis was the residence of the Croatian dux, one of numerous Late Antique villae comes to mind that might have been re-built in order to serve new purposes.75 Should we think that the curtis in question (but other sites also) was named after the “Frankish” St Martin who had just arrived at Dalmatia, or was it one of the Roman villae with a church that had been dedicated (at an unknown time) to St Martin? Unfortunately, this is a question to which it is not possible to provide a clear answer. In this case (as well as in some others) the same evidence might be used to argue for both interpretations. Similarly, the representation of a warrior on horseback from St Martin in Pridraga might be used to “prove” that the taste of the local military elites of the ninth century (if the fragment is correctly dated to that period) corresponded to the preferences of their Carolingian spiritual patrons. But, if the cult or the dedication had been preserved since the post-Justinian restoration, it might also be argued that the new local elites, similarly to Justinian’s soldiers, shared an interest in warrior saints. 76 72

Johannes Diaconus, Chronicon, see Documenta historiae chroaticae periodum antiquam illustrantia, ed. Franjo Rački, Monumenta Spectantia Historiam Slavorum Meridionalium, 7 (Zagreb: Jugoslavenska akademija znanosti i umjetnosti, 1877), 335-6. 73 The latest attempt is that of Milan Ivanišević, “Otok hrvatskog vladara [The island of the Croatian king],” Tusculum 1 (2008): 109-24. The author's argumentation is very much to the point when he stresses the weakness of all the previous attempts to identify curtis S. Martini with the places which all laid outside the jurisdiction of the contemporary Croatian dukedom. 74 Neven Budak, Prva stoljeća Hrvatske [The first centuries of Croatia] (Zagreb: HSN, 1994), 149, interprets curtis as a sign of Frankish influence. 75 Cf. the case of Bijaći, one of the residences of the Early Medieval Croatian rulers in the surrounding of Split. 76 The interpretation of the figure, as representing St Martin (Zaradija Kiš, Sveti Martin, 123), is certainly intriguing but not very convincing. For the analysis of the relief, see Ivo Petricioli, “Reljef konjanika iz Pridrage,” Diadora 8 (1975): 111-17.

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Although there are (epistemologically speaking) no direct proofs for the existence and continuity of the cult between the sixth and ninth centuries, there is certainly a lot of evidence which points tocontinuity. Dedicatory inscription from Otres from the time of the “Lord Branimir” (879-92) presents a fine example. This fragment, sometimes presented as a proof of the Carolingian origin of the cult, provides the information about re-construction of the church and lists the following saints: St Peter, Blessed Virgin Mary, St George, St Stephen, St Martin, St Chrysogon, and the Holy Cross.77 Without much elaboration here, it would certainly be very hard to interpret the presented combination as exclusively “Frankish saints”.78 Moreover, the very concept of the “Frankish patronage” over the early Croatian principality, much stressed lately, should not be oversimplified. The convergence of the available archaeological evidence in the light of the general “conservativism” of hagiotopography allows for the hypothesis of the continuity of many older cults. Many elements of Late Antique (Justinian or even earlier) hagiotopography were obviously respected and revitalised during the period of the Croatian “restoration” (c. 810-c. 890) under the aegis of the Carolingians. The question of the role of the Benedictine monks in the dissemination of the cult in the Early Middle Ages is overshadowed by the larger and unsolved problem of the time of their arrival at Dalmatia. Although the information about the Benedictines in Istria in the time of Justinian, as well as some (doubtful) archaeological evidence might possibly attest to their earlier presence, there is no clear evidence of Benedictine activities in Dalmatia before the ninnth century.79 It is nowadays broadly accepted that the first Benedictine monasteries in the region were the foundation of the Croatian Duke Trpimir near Klis, and the monastery of St Bartholomew in Knin.80 Bearing in mind the otherwise important role of Benedictines in the dissemination of the cult of St Martin, one might be surprised to learn that the surviving evidence testifies to almost no Benedictine monasteries or churches dedicated to St Martin in Early 77

Delonga, Latin Epigraphic, 228-9. Another contemporary piece of evidence is a small fragment of an architrave of an altar screen from the pre-Romanesque church of Blessed Mary in Ostrovica (near Benkovac), ibid., 223-4. 79 For the general history of the Benedictines in Croatia, see Ivan Ostojić, Benediktinci u Hrvatskoj i ostalim našim krajevima [Benedictines in Croatia and our other regions], 2 vols (Split: Benediktinski priorat–Tkon, 1963-4). 80 Neven Budak, “Foundations and Donations as a Link between Croatia and the Dalmatian Cities in the Early Middle Ages (9th–11th c.),” Jahrbücher für Geschichte Osteuropas 55 (2007): 485. Croatian rulers founded at least three more monasteries until the eleventh centuries. The first monasteries in Dalmatian cities are known to date from the same period. Relying on my recent research on the possible role of the Frankish-Lombard monks in Croatian principality I would propose a somewhat earlier dating as well as additional localities like the early Benedictine monasteries in Dalmatian hinterland. 78

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Medieval Dalmatia.81 Taking into consideration all the limitations imposed by the absence of written sources and the scarcity of archaeological evidence, I will confine my observations to the question of the possible Martinian tituli connected to the Benedictine order. Starting from the north, one should surely scrutinise two traditions which mention the monastery of St Martin on the island of Cres. The Vita S. Gerardi describes how St Gerald (d. 1046), on his way to Bethlehem, stayed in the certain monastery of St Martin where his friend was abbot.82 Another tradition is preserved in the Annalales Camaldolenses which credit St Gaudentius, the bishop of Osor (d. after 1050) with the construction of the monastery of St Martin near his hometown.83 The church of St Martin on the neighbouring island of Krk, given by the local bishop to the Italian monasteries of St Cyprian and St Benedict in 1153, was also sometimes interpreted as a Benedictine monastery. However, it is actually very unlikely that the monastery was ever built there.84 In the vicinity of Krk, sources mention the “abbey of St Martin” de flumine, or Abbey sancti Martini in Vinodol in the Croatian hinterland.85 Ostojić considered the evidence problematic. Unable to locate the abbey, he interpreted this information in the light of the fact that abbey (opatija) in the local Law code of Vinodol (1288) meant simply “monastery”. Therefore he expressed reservations about the existence of the Benedictine community.86 There is also a possibility that there was a monastery of St Martin in villa Grohote (possibly on the island of Šolta, near Split), but the evidence is highly doubtful.87 As for the churches, Ostojić listed only a few in his catalogue that certainly belonged to the Order of St Benedict. The abbey of St Nicholas in Omišalj (on the island of Krk) owned the already mentioned church of St Martin on the islet of St 81 Although the importance of the role of the Benedictines in Early Medieval Dalmatia has been underlined by modern scholars (e.g. Zaradija Kiš, Sveti Martin, 109), I find no actual evidence to support this general observation. 82 Documenta historiae chroaticae, 435-6. It cannot be proven that the monastery in question was actually on Cres, but the choice seems quite convincing. 83 The land around the seemingly Late Antique church of St Martin in the southern part of the island belonged to the monastery of St Peter in Osor and, according to a a local tradition, there was a Camaldolese hermitage there. Cf. Daniele Farlati, Illyricum sacrum: Ecclesia Jadertina cum suffraganeis, vol. 5 (Venice: Sebastiano Coleti, 1775), 618. Having analysed all the evidence, Ostojić doubted whetherit was really a Benedictine monastery, Ostojić, Benediktinci, vol. 1, 157-8. 84 Ostojić, Benediktinci, vol 1, 190-2. For the charter, see Farlati, Illyricum Sacrum, vol. 5, 639-40; Codex diplomaticus regni Croatiae, Dalmatiae et Slavoniae, vol. 2, ed. Tadija Smičiklas (Zagreb: Jugoslavenska akademija znanosti i umjetnosti, 1904), 74, 75-6. 85 Ostojić, Benediktinci, vol. 1, 211. 86 Ibid., 212. 87 Ibid., 350.

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Mark. Confirming the earlier document of Celestine III (1191-8), dated to 1195, Pope Innocent III (1198-1216) mentions two churches near Zadar (sancti Martini Diculi and sancti Martini ante portam civitatis)88 in a document dated 1204. In Dubrovnik the little church of St Martin belonged to the monastery of St Andrew and was probably torn down in the fifteenth century.89 Ostojić categorised these four mentioned monasteries as “doubtful or alleged”. The scarcity of the churches dedicated to St Martin also does not support the idea of a substantial role of the Benedictines in the dissemination of the cult in Early Medieval Dalmatia.90 However, bearing in mind all the problems connected to the Benedictines’ arrival and early activities in the region, one should not discard the possibility that some of the evidence for either Early Byzantine or Carolingian missionary activities might be ascribed to the Benedictines.

V. Instead of a Conclusion The complete replacement of the traditional “Carolingian thesis” with an equally exclusive new one (whether “Late Antique” or “Early Byzantine”) would be totally futile in the study of the cult of St Martin in Early Medieval Croatia. Namely, it is highly delusive to tag the particular saints as exclusively Greek, Italian, or Frankish. The manifold cultural contacts made Early Medieval Dalmatia a region in which “Byzantine presence” might not have been expressed in Greek language or Eastern liturgies. If my hypotheses are correct, the case of St Martin would be an example of a saint whose cult, broadly perceived as exclusively Western, spread in the region to a large extent through the agency of the “Byzantines”. As I hope to have demonstrated throughout this paper, different chronological layers of the cult do not necessary exclude one another. The hypotheses and material presented here invite for further research. Along these lines, it would, in the first place, be of major importance to establish as reliably as possible “synchronic groups” of saints. Secondly, particular sites (only some of which were discussed here) should be treated as different cases and examined separately. But even before further research is undertaken, I find it reasonable to conclude as follows: 1) There is no evidence that the Late Antique Dalmatian villa-dwellers read Sulpicius in their Dalmatian rural residences, and almost no evidence that local bishops might have dedicated churches to St Martin before the mid-sixth century. 88

Ibid., 44-5. Ibid., 478. 90 Ibid., 549. Besides these, he identified a single Benedictine nunnery in Kotor dated to thirteenth to fourteenth centuries as the authentic Martinian (the church of St Martin standing today as St Anne). Cf. ibid., 488, 507-8. 89

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Yet, written sources which mention the geographic dissemination of the cult of St Martin in a constellation with the local archaeological and topographic evidence do not allow us to exclude the possibility of the existence of the cult in Dalmatia before the Gothic wars and Justinian’s reconquista. 2) The conclusions about the cult in the post-Justinian period, resting on the large number of churches built (dedicated) or rebuilt (re-dedicated) after the expulsion of the Goths, allow for more probable conclusions than in the case of the earlier period. Bearing in mind all its weaknesses, the approach proposed by Migotti (“combination of historico-hagiographical and archaeological research, in the light of verified facts of sacral continuity”) provides not only basic evidence for the existence of the cult, but also a stimulus for further research. 3) The traditional “Carolingian thesis”, although undoubtedly true in its core, should probably also be nuanced. The cult of St Martin certainly did not appear with the Carolingians in Dalmatia ex nihilo. “Frankish Christianity”, in the words of Migotti, “basically rests on the tradition of Justinian’s missionary efforts. Thus, there is no need to see the honouring of the saints of that period as having been brought in by intermediaries (i.e. Franks) since Dalmatia had been part of the Byzantine state.”91 In this sense, the relation between the Late Antique villae and Early Medieval curtes or monasteria might prove a relevant focus of further research. Finally, in the light of these observations, I believe that Frankish promotion of the cult of St Martin in Dalmatia might be understood as yet another example and aspect of a Carolingian ambitious project of renovatio. With the Franks (and their Croatian protégés) actively promoting the cult of St Martin, there are many indications that in Dalmatia they found an existing “Martinian network.” Even if the bishop of Tours was not venerated by the Late Antique Dalmatian readers of Sulpice as the ascetic apostle of the Gaul, it seems that St Martin did appear on the eastern Adriatic coast as one of the holy warriors of an earlier renovatio imperii–that of Justinian.

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91

Migotti “Neka pitanja,” 158-9 (other examples: Barbara, Vitus, and some of the Old Testament prophets).

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Jakšić, Nikola. “Preživjele ranokršćanske crkve u srednjovjekovnoj Ninskoj biskupiji [Surviving Early Christian churches in the Medieval Bishopric of Nin].” Diadora 15 (1993): 127-44. Jakšić, Nikola, and Miljenko Jurković. Hrvati i Karolinzi: rasprave i vrela [The Croats and the Carolingians: Discussions and sources]. Split: Muzej hrvatskih arheoloških spomenika, 2000. Judic, Bruno. “Le culte de saint Martin dans le haut moyen âge et l’Europe centrale.” In Sveti Martin kot simbol evropske culture–Saint Martin symbole de la culture européenne, edited by Jasmina Aramabašić. Celovec-Ljubljana: Mohorjeva založba, 2008. Jurković, Miljenko, and Tugomir Lukšić, eds. Starohrvatska spomenička baština– rođenje prvog hrvatskog kulturnog pejsaža [The Early Croatian heritage: Birth of the first Croatian cultural ambient]. Zagreb: MGC, 1996. Katičić, Radoslav. Litterarum studia. Književnost i naobrazba ranoga hrvatskog srednjovjekovlja [Litterarum studia: Literacy and education of the Croatian Early Middle Ages]. Zagreb: Matica hrvatska, 1998. McKinley, Allan Scott. “The first two centuries of Saint Martin of Tours.” Early Medieval Europe 14/2 (2006): 173-200. Migotti, Branka. “Antičko-srednjovjekovni sakralni kontinuitet na području Dalmacije [The Antique-Medieval sacral continuity in Dalmatia].” Opuscula archaeologica 16 (1992): 225-49. Migotti, Branka. “Dalmacija na razmeđi istoka i zapada [Dalmatia on the watershed between East and West].” VAMUZ 24-5 (1991/2): 163-82. Migotti, Branka. “Naslovnici ranokršćanskih crkava u Dalmaciji [Patron saints of Early Christian churches in Dalmatia].” Arheološki radovi i rasprave 12 (1996): 189-247. Migotti, Branka. “Neka pitanja ranokršćanske hagiografije srednje Dalmacije [Some problems of the Early Christian hagiography of central Dalmatia].” Arheološki radovi i rasprave 11 (1988): 133-59. Osborne, John. “Politics, Diplomacy and the Cult of Relics in Venice and the Northern Adriatic in the First Half of the Ninth Century.” Early Medieval Europe 8/3 (1999): 369-86. Ostojić, Ivan. Benediktinci u Hrvatskoj i ostalim našim krajevima [Benedictines in Croatia and our other regions], 2 vols. Split: Benediktinski priorat–Tkon, 19634. Peršič, Alessio. “L’apporto delle fonti martiniane alle storiografia della spiritualità Cristiana aquileiese, riscoperta come incunabolo del monachesimo occidentale fra i secoli III e V.” In Sveti Martin kot simbol evropske culture–Saint Martin symbole de la culture européenne, edited by Jasmina Aramabašić, 144-60. Celovec-Ljubljana: Mohorjeva založba, 2008.

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Petricioli, Ivo. “Reljef konjanika iz Pridrage [The relief of a horseman from Pridraga].” Diadora 8 (1975): 111-17. Rapanić, Željko. Predromaničko doba u Dalmaciji [Pre-Romanesque period in Dalmatia]. Split: Logos, 1987. Troupeau, Gérard. “La vie de saint Martin dans les synaxaires des Eglises orientales.” Bulletin de la Société Archéologique de Touraine 44 (1995): 631-7. Uglešić, Ante. Ranokršćanska arhitektura na području današnje Zadarske nadbiskupije [Early Christian architecture in the territory of the bishopric of Zadar]. Zadar: Filozofski fakultet u Zadru-Zadarska nadbiskupija, 2002. Vedriš, Trpimir. “Češčenje sv. Martina Tourskega v Dalmaciji v pozni antiki in zgodnjem srednjem veku [The cult of St Martin in Dalmatia in Late Antiquity and the Early Middle Ages].” In Sveti Martin kot simbol evropske culture– Saint Martin symbole de la culture européenne, edited by Jasmina Aramabašić, 92-106. Celovec–Ljubljana: Mohorjeva družba, 2008. Vežić, Pavuša. Zadar na pragu kršćanstva: Arhitektura ranoga kršćanstva u Zadru i na zadarskom području [Zadar on the threshold of Christianity: Early Christian architecture in Zadar and the Zadar area]. Zadar: Arheološki muzej Zadar, 2006. Vicelja-Matijašić, Marina. Istra i Bizant. Neki povijesno-ikonografski aspekti u interpretaciji umjetnosti 6. stoljeća u Istri [Istria and Byzantium: Historicaliconographical aspects in interpretation of the sixth-century art in Istria]. Rijeka: Matica Hrvatska, 2007. Walter, Christopher. The Warrior Saints in Byzantine Art and Tradition. Aldershot: Ashgate, 2003. Zaradija-Kiš, Antonija. Sveti Martin: kult sveca i njegova tradicija u Hrvatskoj [St Martin: the cult of the saint and his tradition in Croatia]. Zagreb: Institut za etnologiju i folkloristiku, 2004. Zorić, Magda. “Ivinj, ranokršćanska bazilika s krstionicom [Ivinj, Early Christian basilica with baptismal font].” Obavijesti Hrvatskog arheološkog društva 31/3 (1999): 103-8.

CONTRIBUTORS Dan Batovici studies Classics at the University of Bucharest. He has in print a Romanian annotated translation of Eriugena’s Commentary on John (Iasi, Polirom 2009), and has published a number of articles and book chapters on Eriugena’s biblical exegesis and on his treatment of the Greek sources. He is presently working on the Romanian translation of Eriugena’s Periphyseon, in collaboration. Eileen Rubery is a Senior Research Fellow at Girton College, Cambridge. Her research centres around the art commissioned by the popes in Byzantine Rome (550-800) and relations between Rome and Constantinople. She focuses in particular on the frescoes in the church of Santa Maria Antiqua in the Roman Forum and Old St Peter’s. She contributed a chapter: “Pope John VII’s Devotion to Mary” to The Origins of the Cult of the Virgin Mary, edited by Chris Maunder (Continuum Press, 2008). Emilio Bonfiglio is DPhil student in Oriental Studies (Pembroke College). He was educated at the Universities of Palermo (B.A. in Classics) and Oxford (M.Phil. in Eastern Christian Studies). He has a special interest in St John Chrysostom, particularly in the textual criticism of the Greek originals and their ancient Latin, Armenian and Syriac translations. His projects include a repertoire of the Armenian manuscripts and translations of the writings of St John Chrysostom. Florin Leonte is a PhD candidate at the Department of Medieval Studies, CEU, Budapest. His doctoral project deals with the relationship between rhetoric and ideology in several texts written by the Byzantine emperor Manuel II Palaiologos. He has published an article on the correspondence between Demetrios Kydones and Manuel II in the Annual of Medieval Studies, CEU, and he is preparing for publication a study on Helena Kantakouzene Palaiologina as patroness (Vienna). He had research grants in Vienna, Oxford, and Dumbarton Oaks. Floris Bernard is conducting research as a PhD student at Ghent University under the supervision of Kristoffel Demoen. His main areas of interest are eleventhcentury Byzantine poetry, and the functioning of literature in Byzantine society. He has also cooperated in partial editions of unedited eleventh-century book epigrams. Konstantinos Ikonomopoulos has an M.A. in Late Antique and Byzantine Studies from King’s College, London and is finishing his PhD on the relations and

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perceptions of Byzantium towards Jerusalem from the ninth to the thirteenth centuries. Léan Ní Chléirigh is an Irish Research Council for the Humanities and Social Sciences scholar based at Trinity College Dublin where she is currently working with Professor I. S. Robinson towards a completion of her PhD on the ideas of ethnicity in the early Latin crusading sources with particular reference to attitudes towards Byzantium. She is the organiser for TCD’s Dept of History’s extra-mural course on the history of the crusades. Her recent papers include “Gesta Francorum? The Use of ‘Ethnic Terms’ in a Crusade Chronicle” and “Christian Divisions in the Narratives of the First Crusade.” Savvas Neocleous (editor) completed a B.A. in History and Archaeology at the University of Cyprus in 2004 and an M.Phil. in Medieval Language, Literature and Culture at Trinity College Dublin in 2005. He recently submitted his PhD, entitled “Imaging the Byzantines: Latin Perceptions, Representations, and Memory, c. 1095–c. 1230,” at Trinity College Dublin. His recent papers include: “The Byzantines and Saladin: Opponents of the Third Crusade?,” forthcoming in the Journal Crusades 9 (2010); “Imaging Isaac of Cyprus and the Cypriots: Evidence from the Western Historiography of the Third Crusade,” forthcoming in the volume From Holy War to Peaceful Co-Habitation (CEU Medievalia), edited by József Laszlovszky and Zsolt Hunyadi; and “Representation of Music in Medieval Cypriot Iconography: Evidence from Nativity Scenes,” published in the volume POCA 2005, Postgraduate Cypriot Archaeology, edited by Giorgos Papantoniou. Tomás Fernández studied Classics and Literature at the University of Buenos Aires. Currently, he is a PhD candidate and associate academic staff at the Katholieke Universiteit Leuven, where he participates in a research project on Byzantine Encyclopaedism. In the framework of his doctoral research, to be completed in 2010, he is preparing a critical edition of Letter Alpha of the Florilegium Coislinianum. He published the article “Un auteur inconnu dans le Florilège Coislin: Léonce de Damas” in Sacris Erudiri 47 (2008). Trpimir Vedriš is a Research Assistant at the Department of History in the University of Zagreb, where he teaches Early Medieval Croatian history and history of Christianity. He studied history, ethnology and philosophy. He received an M.A. in Medieval Studies at the Department of Medieval Studies in CEU, Budapest, where he prepares a doctoral dissertation on the cult of the urban patron saints in Medieval Dalmatia. His main research interests are in Hagiography and Late Antique–Early Medieval history of the Central and South Eastern Europe.

INDEX Al-Muti, caliph (946-74), 20 Albert of Aachen, 31, 36-41, 44, 46-7 Alexios I Komnenos, Byzantine emperor (1081-1118), 2, 28, 35-9, 41, 43-7, 55-8, 6570 Alexios Makrembolites, 166 Alfred the Great, Anglo-Saxon king (87199), 14 Ambrose, 105 Anastasios, Byzantine emperor (713-15), 212-13 Andronikos IV, Byzantine emperor (13769), 169, 173, 175 Anianus Celedensis, 2-3, 77-82, 85-8 Anna of Savoy, 175 Anselm of Canterbury, 61 Aphthonius, 171 Arius, Arianism, Anti-Arian, 34-5 n. 37, 623, 239 Ashot III, King of Armenia (952-77), 21 Augustine, 79-81, 105, 109

Constans II, Byzantine emperor (641-68), 211 Constantine, pope (708-15), 212 n. 104 Constantine the Great, Byzantine emperor (306-37), 17, 60 Constantine V, Byzantine emperor (741-75), 204, 206-7, 208, 212 Constantine VII, Byzantine emperor (91359), 9, 15-17, 22, 127 Constantine IX Monomachos, Byzantine emperor (1042-1055), 156 Constantine X Doukas, Byzantine emperor (1059-67), 158 Crusade, First (1095-9), 2, 27-32, 34, 38-9, 42, 44-5, 47-8, 53, 55-7, 64-5, 68, 70-1 Crusade of 1101, 2, 30, 55, 57, 68 Crusade, “People’s”, 34, 65

Baldric of Dol, 2, 30, 32-4, 36, 54-5 Basil I, Byzantine emperor (867-86), 2, 1213 Basil of Caesarea, 133, 138 Bayazid, Ottoman sultan (1389-1402), 164 n. 6, 169, 170 n. 30, 174-5 Benedict III, pope (855-8), 213 Bohemond of Taranto, 28-30, 35-40, 42-4, 54, 57-8

Ekkehard of Aura, 28, 30 Elias III, patriarch of Jerusalem (878-907), 13-14 Epiphanius of Salamis, 207 Eriugena, 3, 105-19 Eusebius of Caesarea, 200 Euthymios, patriarch of Constantinople (907-12), 15

Carolingian, Carolingians, 4, 8, 106, 196, 226-7, 234, 240-2, 244-5 Celestine III, pope (1191-8), 244 Charles the Fat, Western emperor (881-7), 14 Christodoulos, patriarch of Jerusalem (93750), 17-18 Christophoros Mitylenaios, 3, 145, 152, 154-6

Daimbert, archbishop of Pisa, 39-40 Demetrios Kydones, 165-6, 164 n. 6, 165 n. 14, 165 n. 15, 170 n. 30, 175

Felix, pope (526-30), 191 Filioque, 8, 35 n. 37, 61-2 Fulcher of Chartres, 28-9, 31-3, 32 n. 24, 55 Germanos, patriarch of Constantinople (715-30), 208 Gesta Francorum et Aliorum Hierosolimitanorum, Anonymous, 2, 27-31, 35-6, 39, 41, 47, 53-5, 57-9, 65-7, 71 Godfrey of Bouillon, 36-9, 44, 55, 69

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Index

Gregory I the Great, pope (590-604), 200-3, 207, 214 Gregory II, pope (715-31), 204 Gregory II of Vkayaser, Armenian Katholikos (1066-1105), 35 n. 37 Gregory III, pope (731-41), 205 Gregory VII, pope (1073-85), 34-5 n. 37 Gregory of Nazianzus, 3, 105-6, 117-18, 133, 138 Gregory of Nyssa, 118 Gregory Palamas, 165 Guibert of Nogent, 2, 30, 32 n. 24, 34-5, 345 n. 37, 47-8, 53-71 Helena Dragaš, 168 Helena Palaiologina Kantakouzena, 3, 1635, 165 n. 11, 165 nn. 13-14, 167-9, 171-3, 172 n. 34, 175-6, 178 Henry I, German emperor (919-36), 16 Hermogenes, 171 Honorius, pope (625-38), 212 Hugh of Vermandois, 44, 47, 59, 65-6 Humbert of Silva Candida, 61-2 Iconoclasm, iconoclast, iconoclastic, 2, 4, 812, 14, 183, 204- 7, 209, 211-14 Ignatios, patriarch of Constantinople (84758, 867-77), 12-13 Innocent III, pope (1198-1216), 244 Irenaeus of Lyon, 190-1, 201-3 Isidore of Seville, 59 Jerome, 78, 201-3, 229 John I Tzimiskes, Byzantine emperor (96976), 7, 17, 21-2, 21 n. 66 John II Komnenos, Byzantine emperor (1118-43), 48 John V Palaiologos, Byzantine emperor (1341-76, 1379-90, 1390-1), 164 n. 11, 165, 169, 173-5, 173 n. 39 John VI Kantakouzenos, Byzantine emperor (1347-53), 165, 175 John VII, Byzantine emperor (1390), 3, 167, 169, 173-4, 173 nn. 38-40, 178-9 John VII, patriarch of Jerusalem (964-6), 20 John VII, pope (705-7), 184, 210-11

John VIII, Byzantine emperor (1425-48), 164, 173, 179 John Chrysostom, 2, 77-81, 85-8, 133 n. 14, 138, 140 n. 27 John Damascene, Damascenian, 3, 131-2, 134-5, 137, 141-2, 213 John Doukas, Caesar, 156 John Kourkouas, 16 John Mauropous, 3, 145-53, 155-8 John the Deacon, 241 Justin II (565-78), 196 Justinian I (527-65), 4, 184, 192, 221, 224, 226-8, 230, 234-7, 239, 241-2, 245 Justinian II (685-95, 705-711), 212 Kerbogha, Atabeg of Mosul, 47 Kilij Arslan, Seljuk sultan of Rum (10921107), 46 Konstantin Dragaš, 168 Leo III, Byzantine emperor (717-41), 204-7 Leo III, pope (795-816), 8, 186 Leo IV, pope (847-55), 213 Leo V, Byzantine emperor (813-20), 7, 8, 10 Leo VI, Byzantine emperor (886-912), 2, 14-15 Leo of Ohrid, 62 Macedonian Renaissance, 129 Malik Shah (1110-16), Seljuk sultan of Rum, 46 Manuel II Palaiologos, Byzantine emperor (1391-1425), 3, 163-79 Martin I, pope (649-53/5), 208, 211 Mas’udi, 18 Maximus the Confessor, 3, 105-6, 114-18, 131, 185, 208 Michael I, Byzantine emperor (811-13), 8 Michael IV, Byzantine emperor (1034-41), 151 Michael VII Doukas, Byzantine emperor (1071-8), 158 Michael Psellos, 145, 156, 158 Michael Keroularios, patriarch of Constantinople (1043-58), 62

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Michael the Synkellos, 7-11 Monothelitism , 208 Murad I, Ottoman sultan (1359-89), 175 Nikephoros II Phokas, Byzantine emperor (963-9), 17, 19-22, 20 nn. 61-62 Nikephoros III Botaniates, Byzantine emperor (1078-81), 67, 69 Nikephoros Gregoras, 165 Nikolaos Mystikos, patriarch of Constantinople (901-7), 14 Omar, caliph (634-44), 15 Orderic Vitalis, 31-3, 32 n. 24, 38, 41-2, 48, 57 Origen, 201 Paschal I, pope (817-24), 192 Paul, exarch (723-6), 210 Paul I, pope (757-67), 3, 183, 187-8, 191, 198, 203, 206, 208-11 Paul II, pope (1464-71), 187 Paulinus of Nola, 229 Paulinus of Périgueux, 228, 228 n. 22 Pelagius, Pelagianism, Pelagian, 2, 63, 77-8, 80-1, 88 Perpetuus of Tours, 228 n. 22 Peter II, doge of Venice (932-9), 16 Peter the Hermit, 65, 68 Philip I, king of France (1060-1108), 57 Philippikos Bardanes, Byzantine emperor (711-13), 212 Philotheos Kokkinos, patriarch of Constantinople (1353-4, 1364-76), 165, 165 n. 13 Photios, patriarch of Constantinople (85867, 877-86), 12-13 Postumianus, 229 Pseudo-Dionysius, 105-6, 109-14, 190 Pseudo-John Chrysostom, 138-9 Pseudo-Maximus the Confessor, 136 Ralph of Caen, 29-30, 42-3, 45-6 Raymond IV of Toulouse, 29, 35-6, 38-41 Raymond of Aguilers, 28-9, 35-6 Raymond of Poitiers, 48

255

Robert I of Flanders, 55, 65, 69 Robert II of Flanders, 39-41 Robert II of Normandy, 40-1 Robert “the Monk”, 28, 31, 39, 47, 54-5 Romanos I, Byzantine emperor (920-44), 15 Romanos II Porphyrogennitos, Byzantine emperor (959-63), 19 Sergios, patriarch of Constantinople (61038), 212 Sophronios, patriarch of Jerusalem (634-8), 15 Sozomen, 229, 229 n. 28, 239 Stefan Dušan, Serbian king (1331-46), 168 Stephen II, pope (752-7), 183, 205 Stephen VI, pope (896-7), 240 Stephen of Blois, 29, 67 Stephen of Naples, 212-13 n. 110 Sulpicius Severus, 228-9, 228 n. 24, 239, 244 Tancred, 29-30, 42-5, 65 Theodora, Byzantine empress (1055-6), 156-7 Theodore, despot of Morea (1383-1407), 163, 168, 175, 178 Theodoret of Cyrus, 200 Theodoros Studites, 132 Theodosios of Nin, 240 Theodosios, patriarch of Jerusalem (86278), 12-13 Theodotos I (815-21), patriarch of Constantinople, 7 Theophilos, Byzantine emperor (829-42), 2, 8, 10-12 Urban II, pope (1088-99), 32-4, 42, 49, 547, 60, 64-5 Venantius Fortunatus, 228 William of Malmesbury, 31, 33 William of Poitou, 68 William of Tyre, 32 Zoe, Byzantine empress (1042), 156-7

256

Zoe Carbonopsina, 15

Index