The Oxford University Byzantine SocietyThe Oxford University Byzantine Society Ioannou Centre for...
Transcript of The Oxford University Byzantine SocietyThe Oxford University Byzantine Society Ioannou Centre for...
The Oxford University Byzantine Society
Ioannou Centre for Classical and Byzantine Studies66 St. Giles’
OxfordUnited Kingdom
OX1 3LU
Committee 2018-19
President - Katerina Vavaliou (Wadham College, Oxford)Secretary - Callan Meynell (Trinity College, Oxford)Treasurer - Daniel Gallaher (Oriel College, Oxford)
[email protected]://oxfordbyzantinesociety.wordpress.com/
Contents
A Message from the OUBS President
Katerina Vavaliou
Narrative in Antiquity
Chloé Agar (St. Cross College)
Procopius and Slighting Fortifications in the Gothic War: Fano and Pesaro
Jonathan Thomas Wild (Brasenose College)
An Interview with Dr. Marek Jankowiak
Peter Guevara (Wolfson College)
A Nephew and a Crusade - Anna Komnene’s “target” in the Alexiad
Louis Nicholson-Pallett (The Queen’s College)
A Speech by Demetrius Cydones
John-Francis Martin (Corpus Christi College)
Information about SPBS
1-2
3-8
9-14
15-19
20-26
27-32
33
The texts and images printed herein are © by the Authors and may not be reproduced without permission.
Cover image: Christ mosaic from the Church of the Paregoretissa in Arta. © Liz James, Mosaics in the Medieval World: From Late Antiquity to the Fifteenth Century, 1st ed. (Cambridge University Press, 2017), https://doi.org/10.1017/9780511997693, fig.159.
A Message from the OUBS President Katerina Vavaliou
The Oxford University Byzantine
Society (OUBS) is now a well-established
institution at the heart of the Late Antique
and Byzantine Studies (LABS)
communities at Oxford, welcoming new
students into the discipline and keeping
everyone up to date with events from week
to week.
In recent years, the community has
blossomed and reflects an increasingly
broad array of academic interests and
backgrounds. I owe a great debt to tireless
work of previous committees and
presidents. In the space a few short years,
they have moulded the society into the
dynamic entity that exists today. I can only
hope that the OUBS will continue to
expand in size and ambition, and that
when my time as president ends, I will
leave it in the same healthy state as when I
found it.
A testament to this ambition is the OUBS’
International Graduate Conference. Now in
its 21st year, the event has continued to
grow in scale and this year we have the
pleasure of welcoming 48 speakers from
over 20 different countries. The conference
will be held on 22nd-23rd February in the
History Faculty on ‘Contested Heritage:
Adaptation, Restoration and Innovation in
the Late Antique and Byzantine World’.
Drawing upon my own background in
restoration and architecture, I have sought
to select a theme which can complement
the study of material culture, art, and
archaeology. Yet such a topic lends itself
to other forms of historical investigation:
appropriation and reuse occur across
media and are essential elements in the
construction of Byzantine texts and
historical narratives.
In bringing together researchers from
different backgrounds, the conference
aims to facilitate interdisciplinary
exchange in a relaxed and supportive
environment. The occasion also presents
us with a wonderful opportunity to
showcase the quality of postgraduate
research and to meet our counterparts
from across the globe.
The Byzantinist | 1
The international outlook of the OUBS is
reflected in other aspects of its work. The
society organises an annual overseas
research trip and scholars of all levels
participate in it. Its itinerary is tailored to
the participants’ academic interests and
provides a unique opportunity to visit
monuments and sites where even the
most long-suffering friends and relations
fear to tread.
In the recent past, OUBS trips have taken
us to Armenia, Bulgaria and Iran. This
year’s trip will take us to central Greece
and the Peloponnese, where we will visit
sites like Hosios Loukas, Mystras and
Monemvasia and have the opportunity to
access areas normally closed to the
general public.
Oxford is an idiosyncratic and somewhat
peculiar place, and we have endeavoured
to make the process of orientation more
straightforward for incoming students.
Building on the successful roll-out of a
mentoring system for new graduates over
the past few years, the OUBS has also
published a ‘Welcome Pack’ to explain the
structure of academic life at the university.
The society’s two mailing lists, and recent
forays into social media, have hopefully
kept members of the LABS community
informed of academic opportunities and
enabled them to make the most of their
time at Oxford.
To this end, the OUBS has continued to run
events which seek to build dialogue
between postgraduates, faculty members
and emeriti. In keeping with the theme of
‘innovation’ from this year’s conference,
our foremost legacy is likely to be the
inauguration of a society jaunt to the pub
after the Wednesday evening LABS
seminars.
For the rest of 2019, forthcoming
collaborations with Graduate Archaeology
Oxford and the Oxford Medieval Society
promise to foster links with our sister
disciplines in the university. Further afield,
we will also be organising a colloquium
with our counterparts in Paris, the
Association des étudiants du monde
byzantin.
Overall, I hope that the OUBS will continue
to develop into a close-knit community,
uniting young researchers through shared
interests and lasting friendships in Oxford
and across the world.
The Byzantinist | 2
Narrative in Antiquity Chloé Agar (St. Cross College)
The analysis of
hagiography has taken a
more literary turn in
recent years (Gray 2017:
103). The approaches
now being applied to the
structure and
characterisation within such texts has
broadened interpretation beyond the
acknowledgement of the didactic
purposes of these texts (Papavarnavas
2016: 66). Analysis is now showing the
specific ways in which the didactic
purpose of hagiography could be
achieved. This article will argue the utility
of viewing hagiography – and, by
extension, other ancient texts – from a
literary perspective in order to
understand the particular features which
their writers chose to use and the
possible reasons for those choices.
Narratology and its place in scholarship
The theory applied to the analysis
of narrative features in texts is called
‘narratology’. It is not exclusively applied
to ancient texts, but the shared features
between ancient and modern material
means that its use is a valid approach to
take (Bal 2017: 3-4). Narratology
identifies the aspects out of which
narratives are constructed, forming a
semi-quantitative approach to literary
analysis which can be useful when
studying patterns in large data sets, be
they whole texts or episodes within
them.
Narratology has been applied to
hagiography for a few years, with proven
success in its application within Greek
and Latin scholarship. The latest
example within Greek scholarship is the
study of the representation of prisons in
Greek martyr cycles by Christodoulos
Papavarnavas (University of Vienna) in
his PhD thesis (2018: 278). He used
narratological analysis on over two
The Byzantinist | 3
hundred texts in order to identify the
conventions in the representation of
prisons in Greek martyr cycles and these
episodes’ role in the narrative.
However, despite its proven utility
and success when applied to ancient
texts, narratological approaches have
limited application to Coptic texts. What
limited application to Coptic hagiography
that exists, being to the lesser-studied
dialect of Bohairic and a lesser-known
set of case studies, has proven that a
narratological approach is equally useful
to Coptic as it is to Greek and Latin
material (Zakrzewska 2011: 499, 501).
This application shows that there is a
growing narratological discourse within
Coptic scholarship, and that further
application will continue to develop both
the methods used and the new insights
that they bring (Behlmer 2012: 306).
Narratology as a method
A wide range of narrative features
can be analysed using a narratological
approach, and each one can indicate
something different about the author’s
intention or the effect on the audience
and refine our understanding of precisely
how the didactic function of these texts
could be achieved. Taking Christodoulos
Papavarnavas’ use of particular episodes
within hagiography, narrative features
that can provide insights include, but are
not limited to, the following list:
● Placement within the narrative –
The placement of an episode
relative to the other episodes
which constitute the narrative as a
whole can indicate whether it is
intended as a break or a climax,
either inviting the audience to rest
and contemplate or inspiring a
stronger emotional response. The
content of the episode can also
indicate how its placement should
be interpreted, as they often serve
as respite from the main narrative
while continuing the plot or
providing character development.
● Narrative space – The physical
space on a manuscript occupied
by an episode can indicate its
relative importance and, if it is
intended as a break, how long that
interruption of the main narrative
is and therefore how lasting an
The Byzantinist | 4
effect it may have on the audience
once the next episode
commences.
● Audience – Christodoulos
Papavarnavas identifies two
audiences (2016: 67). The first is
intra-textual, being the audience
as a secondary character in the
narrative. The second is
extra-textual, being the audience
that is being exposed to the
narrative. He argues that the
emotional responses of the
intra-textual audience could be
crafted by the writer to influence
that of the extra-textual audience,
and that such secondary
characters are as much a role
model for the didactic purpose of
the narrative as the primary one(s)
i.e. the saint or martyr
(Papavarnavas 2016: 80).
● Context within the narrative – The
preceding events and overall plot
of the main narrative can serve to
explain the significance and
reason for an episode’s
placement. There are two main
reasons for the placement of a
particular episode that may have
been considered by the writer. The
first is the effect that the episode
will have on the extra-textual
audience when contextualised by
preceding events, such as a break
or a climax. The second is the
significance of that placement to
the narrative itself, such as
introducing the saint’s martyr
status or their actual martyrdom.
● Setting – The setting of an
episode can indicate how a writer
wanted it to be perceived within
the context of the narrative and its
didactic function. An episode
taking place in the same setting
as the preceding one or in a
setting that would be familiar to
an audience at least as an idea,
such as a shrine or prison, lends a
sense of realism, as does an
appropriate time of day for the
events taking place. This would
enhance the relevance to the
audience more than a
phenomenon that it is unlikely that
any of them witnessed, such as a
healing miracle or a vision, and
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thereby make the didactic
message that the writer wished to
convey more pertinent,
particularly in the case of the
audience being illiterate laymen
having the narrative conveyed to
them orally.
● Sensory description – Sensory
description is related to the
setting in that it is the description
that establishes the locale and
time of events. Sensory
description can include any of the
five senses and may be one of
two things. It may be of sensory
phenomena with which an
audience were culturally or
physically familiar, or it may be of
unfamiliar phenomena that would
inspire a sense of wonder. A
sense of wonder would be
appropriate in a text such as an
encomium, which had the main
function of celebrating its
associated saint.
● Characters – The characters in a
narrative are the actors in the plot,
and thereby the figures to whom
the audience can relate and from
whom they can learn. This relates
to the idea of the intra-textual
audience as the most relatable
characters to the extra-textual
audience, and places the saint or
martyr as the example to which to
aspire and the characters who
torment them as the example to
revile (e.g. Elliott 1987: 1).
Further comment on character
There has been an emphasis on
characterisation in recent scholarship on
hagiography (e.g. De Temmerman 2010:
27). It is certainly an aspect of narrative
that is emphasised within narratological
theory, as methods of characterisation
and characters’ speech are considered in
overlap with other narrative features (Bal
2017: 44).
However, the study of character
within the application of narratology to
hagiography has been limited to the saint
or martyr, and in some cases has drawn
understandable but anachronistic
analogies that can help modern
audiences to understand how they would
have been perceived, but not how this
was achieved, such as the relation of
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saints performing miracles to
superheroes (e.g. Elliott 1987: 1-2). This
paper therefore proposes that the
narratives features that contribute to this
characterisation should be studied
further. It also proposes that a way of
understanding the idealised characters in
relation to secondary ones, which are
more likely to have been relatable to a
contemporary audience, would be to
compare their representation within
particular episodes using the narrative
features. This would highlight patterns
and provide new insights into whether
there is variation according to holiness,
social status, or gender. Such insights
would develop the current understanding
of hagiography within its intended
context, as opposed to from the
perspective of those studying it today.
This paper has indicated the utility
of viewing hagiography from a literary
perspective by highlighting the narrative
features outlined by narratology and the
purposes for which writers may have
used them. This emphasises the use of
these texts as historical sources, but
with the analysis of the literary methods
used within them rather than more
directly through their content. It has also
highlighted the importance of
characterisation within narrative as a key
way by which the extra-textual audience
can experience a text’s didactic function.
Selected Bibliography Bal, M. 2017, Narratology: Introduction to the theory of narrative. Fourth edition. Toronto:
University of Toronto Press. Behlmer, H. 2012, ‘Report on Coptic Literature (2008-2012)’ in P. Buzi, A. Camplani, and F.
Contardi (eds.), Coptic society, literature and religion from Late Antiquity to modern times: Proceedings of the tenth International Congress of Coptic Studies, Rome, September 17th–22nd, 2012 and plenary reports of the Ninth International Congress of Coptic Studies, Cairo, September 15th–19th, 2008 (Orientalia Lovaniensia Analecta 247; 2 vols). Leuven; Paris; Bristol CT: Peeters.
De Temmerman, K. 2010, ‘Ancient Rhetoric as a Hermeneutical Tool for the Analysis of Characterization in Narrative Literature’. Rhetorica 28(1), 23–51.
Elliott, A. G. 1987, Roads to Paradise: Reading the Lives of the Early Saints. Hanover: University Press of New England.
Gray, C. 2017, ‘“Holy and pleasing to God”: A narratological approach to hagiography in Jerome’s Lives of Paul and Malchus’. Ancient Narrative 14, 103-28.
The Byzantinist | 7
Papavarnavas, C. 2016, ‘The role of the audience in pre-Metaphrastic passions’ in Analecta Bollandiana 134(1), 66-82.
______________2018, Gefängnis als Schwellenraum in der byzantinischen Hagiographie: Eine literarische Untersuchung der Märtyrerakten in früh- und mittelbyzantinischer Zeit.
PhD. Universität Wien. Zakrzewska, E. D. 2011, ‘Masterplots and martyrs: Narrative techniques in Bohairic
hagiography’ in F. Hagen, J. Johnston, W. Monkhouse, K. Piquette, J. Tait, and M. Worthington (eds), Narratives of Egypt and the ancient Near East: Literary and linguistic approaches. Leuven: Peeters.
The Byzantinist | 8
Procopius and Slighting Fortifications in the Gothic War: Fano and Pesaro Jonathan Thomas Wild (Brasenose College)
A prominent feature of
Ostrogothic strategy in the Gothic War
which has received no detailed analysis
is the strategy of slighting the walls of
various cities and towns by the
Ostrogothic leadership. Perhaps the
reason for this is the unreliability of
Procopius when looking at Gothic aims,
which is well established. Averil Cameron
has noted that to look to Procopius for
an analysis of Gothic aims is a ‘mistake’.
Philip Rance adopted a similar view,
though not so pessimistic, simply
advising that the modern reader treat the
motives which Procopius assigned to the
Goths with circumspection and
acknowledge that he was assigning
intention from consequence.
According to Procopius, Totila
slighted city walls to avoid the
complications of siege warfare and force
a pitched battle. This has often been
accepted at face value. When it has not
been accepted, a blanket motivation has
still been applied to all of the cities
whose fortifications were slighted by the
Gothic leadership. However, this is
unsatisfactory. I will take Fano and
Pesaro as case studies to demonstrate
the fact that Gothic motivations were
more complex than Procopius would
have us believe. Fano and Pesaro were
fortified cities on the Adriatic coast,
between Rimini and Ancona. According
to Procopius, the walls of both cities
were dismantled to half of their original
height by the Ostrogothic king Wittigis
(AD 536-540).
Procopius claimed that Wittigis’
motivation for slighting the walls of Fano
and Pesaro and burning many of the
buildings within them was to prevent
their use as bases from which the enemy
could cause trouble for the Goths.
However, removing the cities to prevent
their use as strategic bases cannot have
The Byzantinist | 9
been Wittigis’ sole motivation. Wittigis
decided to retain possession of other
cities close to Fano and Pesaro,
including Osimo, Ancona, and Rimini.
Therefore, an examination of the
strategic situation faced by Wittigis is
essential to determine why Fano and
Pesaro’s walls were partially razed and
those of other nearby cities were not.
However, before analysing the
strategic context, it is crucial to establish
when Wittigis partially dismantled the
walls of Fano and Pesaro. Procopius only
informs us that the cities’ walls had been
slighted when the walls of Pesaro were
repaired by Belisarius in 545. Perhaps
the reason for this was that Procopius
did not feel it necessary to mention the
razing of Fano and Pesaro when it
happened because it had no bearing
upon his narrative. Alternatively,
Procopius may not have been aware of
this fact until long after the event.
However, this seems unlikely given that
Procopius was present in Italy with
Belisarius until at least 540.
Procopius claimed that it
happened at the beginning of the war. It
is possible that it may have occurred
after Wittigis’ abandonment of the siege
of Rome in 538, when he marched north
to besiege Rimini after it was captured
by John. However, this seems unlikely.
The fact that Procopius makes no
mention of the two cities during the
Byzantine conquest of the region
suggests that the dismantling had
already taken place. Furthermore, it
would have been difficult of Wittigis to
dismantle the walls of Fano and Pesaro
while the Byzantines were in control of
the nearby cities of Rimini and Ancona.
The forces he sent to dismantle their
walls would have been threatened by
dangerous sallies. It is far more likely
that their walls were slighted in c. 536,
before Wittigis’ march to Rome. At this
time, Wittigis would have had the
freedom and to dismantle the walls of
the two cities.
Manpower was clearly a strategic
concern for Wittigis. To muster a large
enough army, he was forced to recall the
Goths under Marcias stationed in Gaul
and cede the territory to the Franks.
Therefore, Wittigis had to be selective
with which places he decided to allocate
manpower to defend. He preferred not to
The Byzantinist | 10
garrison all the sizable cities by the
Adriatic coast. Accordingly, he decided
to prevent the loss of Fano and Pesaro
and keep the nearby cities of Osimo,
Ancona, and Rimini. Wittigis’ choice was
simple. Rimini’s proximity to Ravenna
made it essential as a line of defence.
For the Byzantines to march on Ravenna,
they first had to capture Rimini. Rimini,
being closer to Ravenna than Fano or
Pesaro, was better placed to serve as a
base from which the garrison could
harass an army besieging Ravenna.
Therefore, Wittigis saw fit to garrison the
city.
With Osimo, its topography made
it extremely defensible. As Procopius
described, the city was situated upon a
hill which made it virtually inaccessible to
would be besiegers. Due to the strength
of its position, even a small garrison was
able to deter John from besieging it.
Similarly, when Belisarius approached
Osimo, he observed that the city could
not be accessed from level ground.
Whilst Fano and Pesaro were defensible
cities with impressive fortifications, their
positions on low lying ground made
them less defensible than Osimo.
Therefore, Wittigis decided to keep
Osimo principally because it was a large
defensible city that was relatively close
to Ravenna. By choosing to hold Osimo,
Wittigis also had to hold Ancona which
was effectively Osimo’s port. If he had
decided to raze the fortress at Ancona
and leave it undefended, a Byzantine
army could approach from the sea and
thereby besiege Osimo from that
direction with impunity.
Alongside Wittigis’ strategic
motivations, there may also have been a
desire to prevent regional control by
removing two key urban and
administrative centres. It has been
suggested that the aim of Totila in
dismantling the walls of cities was to
remove key urban centres, the
occupation of which would grant the
Byzantines control of certain regions.
However, this does not necessarily apply
to those cities razed by Wittigis, including
Fano and Pesaro.
Nevertheless, both Fano and
Pesaro were urban and administrative
centres. Under the Roman Empire,
Pesaro had been a place of trade and
had a Collegium Fabrorum Navalium.
The Byzantinist | 11
However, Fano had even greater urban
and administrative significance under the
Roman Empire. The continued
importance of Fano is attested to
throughout the Roman period.
Furthermore, by 536 the significance of
cities like Fano and Pesaro may have
grown as many cities in the modern
region of Marche had been abandoned
by the sixth century, thereby reducing the
number of important urban settlements.
However, they were certainly not the
principle urban centres on the Adriatic
coast. As Dall’Aglio noted, Procopius
referred to Fano and Pesaro as “small
towns” (polismata). Whereas Ancona and
Rimini were defined as “city” (poleis).
This suggests that Fano and Pesaro
were part of an administrative hierarchy
in which they were considered of lower
rank than cities like Rimini and Ancona.
Moreover, the nearby city of Osimo was
described by Procopius as a metropolis
and the first city of Picenum. Whilst the
relative insignificance of Fano and
Pesaro may be partly due to the damage
caused by Wittigis, there is no reason to
suppose that Fano and Pesaro were
more regionally significant that Rimini or
Ancona by 536. Therefore, while both
cities clearly had some regional
significance, they cannot be regarded as
having had the same regional
significance as other cities whose walls
were razed by the Gothic leadership, like
Milan. Thus, Wittigis’ principal aim was
probably not to remove regional centres.
If that were the case, then he would
surely have slighted the walls of other
nearby cities that were equally, if not
more regionally significant.
To further examine Wittigis’
motivations for slighting the walls of
Fano and Pesaro, the extent of the
damage done to the walls must be
considered. According to Procopius,
Wittigis had: ‘torn down their [Fano and
Pesaro’s] walls to about half their height’.
1
The archaeological evidence seems to
support Procopius’ statement that the
walls were dismantled to “half” (“ἥμισυ ”)
of their original height. The remains of
the Roman walls of Fano provide
possible evidence of Wittigis’
destruction. This can be seen in the
1 Procopius, History of the Wars, trans. H. B. Dewing, Vol. IV (Cambridge MA, 1924), VII, p. 245.
The Byzantinist | 12
upper part of the wall at the Porta della
Mandria, which seems to have been
dismantled.
Furthermore, there is also
archaeological evidence for Belisarius’
makeshift restoration of Pesaro’s walls.
At least ten areas along the curtain wall
seem to have been repaired using reused
material belonging to the Imperial age.
The fact that Wittigis only partially
dismantled the walls of Fano and Pesaro
suggests that it was a temporary
measure. Wittigis presumably intended
to rebuild the two cities after he had won
the war. Belisarius demonstrated that the
walls of Pesaro could be hastily repaired
and defended when he rapidly repaired
them and managed to hold the city
against Totila in 545. Wittigis was clearly
seeking a speedy conclusion to the war,
as the letter written on his behalf to
Justinian suggests. Wittigis sought to
temporarily prevent the capture of the
two cities in his absence as he was
planning to march south to confront
Belisarius.
Lastly, another part of Wittigis’
motivation for damaging the walls of
Fano and Pesaro may have been his
desire to avoid the betrayal of the cities
at the hands of the distrustful
inhabitants. This was certainly
considered a legitimate reason to raze a
city’s walls. At least by Procopius. In the
fifth century, as Procopius described,
Gaiseric tore down the walls of all the
cities in Libya, excluding Carthage, partly
so that the Libyans would not have
strong bases from which they could
launch a rebellion.
Moreover, the potential disloyalty of the
inhabitants of cities was clearly a
concern for Wittigis. According to
Procopius, before departing from Rome,
Wittigis delivered an exhortation to the
city’s population, in which he urged them
to remain loyal to the Gothic cause.
Wittigis’ concern likely stemmed from
the fact that the population of southern
Italy, (excluding Naples) had surrendered
willingly to Belisarius not long before this
exhortation. Therefore, part of Wittigis’
concern may have been that if he had
garrisoned Fano and Pesaro, the
inhabitants may have betrayed the
garrison.
However, Wittigis did not have reason
to be particularly suspicious of the
The Byzantinist | 13
inhabitants of Fano and Pesaro. These
cities had not been previously betrayed
by the inhabitants, unlike Milan, the only
other city razed on Wittigis’ orders. Thus,
Wittigis would have had no reason to be
more suspicious of the inhabitants of
Fano and Pesaro than other nearby cities
like Rimini and Osimo. Yet, he chose to
garrison them. Therefore, a fear of the
inhabitants betraying the cities of Fano
and Pesaro to the enemy was clearly not
Wittigis’ principal motivation for slighting
their walls. Clearly, Wittigis’ motivations
for slighting the walls of Fano and
Pesaro were not quite as Procopius
would have us believe.
Through this brief glimpse into Gothic
military strategy in the Gothic War, it is
clear that razing a city’s walls in late
antiquity was not a strategically singular
affair. Furthermore, the motivations
behind razing city walls were rarely as
simple as writers like Procopius would
have us believe. Only through a case by
case analysis do the many moving parts
become clear. Slighting fortifications, not
unlike many other aspects of late antique
warfare, was a strategically complex
undertaking. Therefore, greater attention
should be paid to the role of slighting
fortifications in military strategy in late
antiquity.
Selected Bibliography
Agnati, U., Per la storia romana della provincia di Pesaro e Urbino (Roma, 1999).
Blundo, M. L., ‘Da Sentium a Sassoferrato. Vita e morte di un’area sacra’ (PhD. thesis, Universita Roma Tre, 2014).
Burns, T., A History of the Ostrogoths (Bloomington and Indianapolis, 1991).
Dall’Aglio, P. L., ‘Pesaro tra tardoantico e primo medioevo’ in P. L. Dall’Aglio, I. D. Cocco (eds), Pesaro Romana: Archeologia e Urbanistica (Bologna, 2004), pp. 67-80.
Halsall, G., Warfare and Society in the Barbarian West, 450-900 (Abingdon, 2003).
Procopius, History of the Wars, trans. H. B. Dewing, Vol. IV (Cambridge MA, 1924).
The Byzantinist | 14
An Interview with Marek Jankowiak Associate Professor of History, Corpus Christi CollegeInterviewer: Peter Guevara (Wolfson College)
This year for our series of interviews with
leading historians in Late Antique and
Byzantine studies, the Byzantinist sat
down with the newest member of the
LABS Faculty here at Oxford, Dr. Marek
Jankowiak. He is known for research on
slavery in the Medieval world, but slightly
less well-known is his path to taking up
history and his approaches to the
subject.
Where did you grow up?
I grew up in Gdansk, a very beautiful
medieval city on the Baltic, which
triggered my interest in the history of the
Baltics and but also a very politically
active city at that time in the 80s and 90s
and this played a role in shaping in my
ideas and my awareness of history
happening before my eyes.
Was history your favourite subject
growing up?
I guess it was my second favourite
subject, just after mathematics.
What was your favourite thing about
mathematics?
That is a difficult question. I did quite a
lot of mathematics. I did two years of
university in applied mathematics. I think
the reason that really made me give up
on mathematics was the study of
topology, which is a very abstract part of
multi-dimensional geometry. That was
amazingly abstract. I found it too difficult
The Byzantinist | 15
but I’m still fascinated by that sort of
thinking.
Do you believe that thinking is working for
you or helping you with your current
work?
It certainly is. It clearly makes me
interested in all sorts of quantitative
approaches, which still work pretty well
for some parts of medieval history so it
is not a total coincidence that I am
working on coins: counting them and, of
course, applying quantitative approaches
to that. But of course, as
mathematicians say, mathematics is a
way of thinking, really. It helps to
structure thoughts and to think in a more
logical, structured and precise way.
Do you think it would be useful to try and
create mathematical models to mimic
developments in the medieval world?
Models are always misleading in various
senses. They have limitations and we
just do not have the data to create
reliable models. But just thinking in
quantitative terms, of counting things
and being aware of how many things we
have, what are the numerical relations
between all sorts of things that we
have—this I find quite useful. To give an
example, well, it matters how many
things we have. For instance, if we have
800 churches in Cappadocia, this can be
a starting point for reasoning on how
many households we had in Cappadocia
in the 10th and 11th centuries when those
churches apparently were mostly
constructed (or cut in the rock). So I’m
not sure if models will answer our
questions. We, again, do not have
enough data to build models but just
remembering the quantitative side of our
material, I think, is very useful.
You did your doctorate. What came next?
Next came McKinsey, which is one of
those global consulting firms (or I should
say global strategic consulting firms),
basically a continuation of my interests
that I developed when I was studying
economics - so I was interested in
finance, banking, and international trade
because I was majoring in those
subjects. It so happened that I applied
for many different jobs. I was
consistently unsuccessful, in a sense.
They offered me a job after a long search
The Byzantinist | 16
for a job in finance and I was very happy
to join them for a couple of years.
When you were working with McKinsey,
did you see yourself working there for a
long time?
It’s not a job to do for a long time. It’s
extremely intensive work. One is under
quite a lot of pressure with very
competitive people. So I thought of it as
a very useful experience and a very
attractive job for my CV. I still didn’t really
know what to do after that, whether to
stay in academia or whether I wanted to
have a career in finance, banking or
consulting. In that sense, I thought it was
an extremely useful job but I never
thought that I would stay for very long. I
stayed for four years, which was longer
than I thought.
From 2009 to 2013?
Well, it’s more complicated. In fact, from
2005 to 2008 and 2009 to 2010 because
I started doing it before I finished my
thesis.
So you started before your PhD defence
and continued on then for a little bit.
I had my doubts when I started to write
my PhD thesis and my doubts increased
with time. So after two or three years of
my PhD I decided to try something else
and I suspended my PhD for that time. I
returned to Paris and I finished it.
It seems like within one year you
produced almost the entirety of your
thesis.
I wrote it very fast. This is true. I thought
about it a lot. I was well prepared but the
writing up was quite fast. I’m not sure if I
can write as fast these days but I
enjoyed writing in French a lot. That was
a pleasant experience.
Your studies and your work have taken
you all around Europe. Is there someone
out there whom you would take with you
on a road trip or some kind of travel
around the world?
I don’t know about around the world but
Oxford is a place where you meet very
interesting people and I’ve been traveling
with a number of people from Oxford,
including Mark Whittow earlier. I’m
The Byzantinist | 17
currently planning travels with other
friends from Oxford. So there are actually
a lot of people I would be happy to travel
with, among all sorts of Oxford friends.
If you had to choose one though?
Well, Mark was really the ideal travel
companion. I didn’t get to travel too
much with Mark but I went on two trips
with Mark and Helen, and once with our
doctoral student. These were extremely
enjoyable experiences.
Where did you go on your excursions?
We went to Moravia, Southern Poland
and Western Ukraine to look at Slavic
hill-forts. We then went to Tatarstan, to
Volga Bulgaria, which was a brief trip of
several days but apart from sightseeing
we tried quite a lot of local cuisine,
including kumis, the famous nomadic
fermented slightly alcoholic drink
produced of fermented mare’s milk,
which fully deserves its reputation in the
western travellers going to the Mongol
court, who were shocked by the taste of
kumis. Indeed, it has an extremely strong
taste. It probably takes some time to
start to enjoy it. We tried this drink, we
tried local versions of horse meat. When
I was slightly teasing Mark and Helen
whether they would eat horse, given the
British taboo against eating horse, but
they very bravely did. So yes, that was a
very enjoyable trip, that combined
sightseeing and all sorts of pleasant
experiences.
Have these trips informed any of the work
that you’re currently doing so far?
Certainly—yes. It is crucial to see the
things that we are writing about. It is
absolutely crucial to see the landscapes,
certainly crucial to see the sights, to talk
to the local archaeologists, to go to the
local museums. In the case of Volga
Bulgaria—Tatarstan—it was significant in
the 10th, 11th and 12th centuries. The
problem is that virtually nothing has been
written, so there’s virtually nothing in any
Western language and not much in
Russian, whereas we realise that there’s
a lot of really interesting archaeology
that suggests unexpected things like the
transformation of the economic basis of
Volga Bulgaria, at some point, to a more
commercially-oriented and more
agriculturally-oriented polity. So these are
The Byzantinist | 18
the sort of things that you can only
discover when you actually go there and
see the sites.
How do you see your work affecting the
wider scholarship of Byzantium over the
next couple of years?
What I am planning to do over the next
couple of years is to bring to publication
the research that I have been doing in the
last few years. On the one hand, to
publish what we have produced in the
‘Dirhams for Slaves’ Project. We are very
close to publishing three edited volumes.
We are planning to publish a catalogue
of Dirham imitations, which I think is an
extremely interesting source and I am
writing my monograph on the slave
trade—this is one of the priorities. The
second priority is to publish my research
on the 7th century, especially on the
Monothelete Controversies, the
translation of the Acts of the Sixth
Ecumenical Council with Richard Price
and my dissertation. So I don’t know how
this will affect the wider world of
Byzantinists but there isn’t much on
either of those topics so I hope people
will find it interesting.
As I understand, you were at Birmingham
as well. That was from which years?
That was in fact last year, so 2017-18.
So one year at Birmingham. If you could
describe your experience at Birmingham
in one word, how would you describe it?
I’m not sure, perhaps ‘motivating.’ That
was a good experience, partly because I
was on a research contract so I did
teach. In fact, I taught quite a lot but I
had some time for research, so I guess
that was close to the ideal balance
between teaching and research. That
was quite a rewarding experience and it
is useful to see I guess to see a normal
British university different from Oxbridge.
Where do you see yourself in five years?
I would happily see myself still here. I
think it is such an intense job that I would
be happy if I managed to do it properly in
the coming years. It is certainly a
demanding job; the bar has been set
extremely high by James and Mark. So I
would be happy if in those next years I
manage to get close to the bar that
they’ve set for the incumbent in this
position.
The Byzantinist | 19
A Nephew and a Crusade - Anna Komnene’s “target” in the Alexiad Louis Nicholson-Pallett (The Queen’s College)
The Alexiad retains a
special place amongst
Byzantine literature. Aside
from Procopius’ Secret
History, Anna Komnene’s
narrative on her father’s
reign is one of the few that
has been discussed
extensively in secondary work. The
reason for this is fairly obvious – as a
key source on the passage of the First
Crusade, it has drawn the attention of
both Byzantinists and Crusader
Historians to understand and assess
Anna’s aims.
On the surface, her aims appear
obvious: to compose, in the words of
Penelope Buckley, a myth around the
reign of her father, Alexios I. But there is
a debate as to whether Anna was
attempting to target and criticise certain
figures as well. The most pronounced
target was the Latin Crusaders, whom
Anna compared to a ‘plague of locusts’
and repeatedly asserted their wish to
seize the empire. However, Paul
Magdalino has argued that both the
praising of Alexios and the sinister
depiction of the crusaders was part of an
overarching criticism of John II and
Manuel I, Anna’s brother and nephew.
One cannot deny that parts of the Alexiad
certainly support Magdalino’s view. Anna
states that the noble deeds of her father
‘came to nothing through the stupidity of
those who inherited his throne.’ It is
evident that Anna did not like her brother
– she seems to have attempted to take
the throne from John after Alexios’
death. However, this is of course not
enough to suggest that Anna attempted
to target John and Manuel above the
crusaders, since the latter are
consistently criticised throughout the
Alexiad. Instead, Magdalino insists that
Anna’s depiction of her father’s
character, actions, and intentions are
The Byzantinist | 20
purposefully depicted as opposites to
those of Manuel.
Indeed, this argument has some
weight. Magdalino points out that, in the
Alexiad, Alexios was a pious individual
and defender of Orthodoxy, whereas
Manual was a ‘young profligate who
slept around, spent lavishly [and] dabbled
in astrology’. Alexios was brave yet
cautious, following a careful strategy –
Manuel, on the other hand, was
impetuous, always wishing to seek glory
for himself. Those adjectives praising
Alexios, Magdalino insists, are carefully
chosen to mirror contemporary
assessments of Manuel’s character.
But this is not necessarily the case.
Deciphering what an author means is
one of the most prolific problems in
historiography, and this argument is
particularly vulnerable as it makes
assumptions on what Anna means. Was
Anna attempting to create a reflection of
Manuel’s character by depicting Alexios
in a certain way? Or was she simply
following the panegyric style of her
work? Piety, bravery, and caution are
standard praises to be given in this style
of work. They fall into the ‘myth’ of
Alexios Buckley refers to.
Thus, this is not sufficient to support
Magdalino’s argument. However, what
about the other views on the aims of the
Alexiad? R.D. Thomas, John France, and
P. Stephenson have all presented slightly
different views. Yet these views all agree
that denouncing the crusaders was,
aside from creating a myth around
Alexios, the key aim of the Alexiad.
‘Anna presents her father
standing firm against, and dominating all
barbarians’ R.D. Thomas tells us, arguing
that, whilst this includes the Turks,
Cumans, and Bogomil heretics, it
inevitably must also include the
Normans, Celts, and Franks. Thomas
indicates that the Roman ‘way of life’ is
what is at stake in the Alexiad. The
Alexios of the Alexiad never trusted the
Latins and made sure to outmanoeuvre
them at every turn. There is no better
depiction of this than the siege of Nicaea,
in which Alexios used the pressure of the
enormous crusader force to push the
Seljuk rulers of the city into negotiation
and surrender. At the same time tricking
the crusaders into believing that the
The Byzantinist | 21
Byzantine detachment led by Manuel
Boutoumites had captured the city
themselves, thus sparing Nicaea of a
vicious sack.
One cannot deny that Alexios’ distrust of
the crusaders was fair. They had already
caused violence on their way to
Constantinople, burning ‘a castle of
heretics’ in Palagonia – an event
mentioned by both the Gesta Francorum
et Aliorum Hierosolimitanorum and the
Alexiad. And, of course, the bloody sack
that Jerusalem was to suffer later, the
violence of which even shocked the
author of the Gesta Francorum. So, we
can probably assume that Anna’s
depiction of Alexios in this regard is fairly
accurate.
Yet, whilst one cannot deny the
importance of Alexios’ distrust of the
Latins in the Alexiad, Magdalino is able to
turn this to his advantage. Manuel did
not simply view the Latins as tools for
expansion, as Alexios and John did, but
actively liked them. Magdalino argues
that the negative portrayals of the Latins
were indirect criticisms of the wife of
Manuel, Bertha of Sulzback. Again, Anna
does not reference her directly – she of
course could not – but the marriage of
the Emperor to a Latin princess must
have disturbed Anna greatly. Jonathan
Harris uses the infamous phrase –
originally spoken by Margaret Thatcher
in reference to the union leaders – ‘the
Enemy Within’ to describe the Latins
within the court of Manuel. One cannot
help thinking that this is exactly how
Anna saw the relationship between
Manuel and the Latins.
Understanding the depiction of the Latins
in the Alexiad as a subtle yet profound
criticism of Manuel’s relations with them
certainly supports Magdalino’s view. Not
least of all because of the sheer amount
of time Anna dedicates not only to
Alexios’ dealings with the crusaders, but
the disorderly and often violent
descriptions of the Latins. For
Magdalino’s argument to stand, we must
assess Alexios’ involvement in the First
Crusade. The historiography on this is
wide and varied, so for the sake of
simplicity I have narrowed it down to two
extremes.
The first was proposed by Sir
Steven Runciman. It may not come as a
surprise that Runciman almost echoes
The Byzantinist | 22
the exact sentiments Anna herself
asserts in the Alexiad – that Alexios was
‘informed that instead of the individual
knights or small companies he
expected… whole Frankish armies were
on the move’. Although even Runciman
could not accept Anna’s argument
without conceding some points,
although he certain echoes the idea of
dread and shock that Alexios
experiences when first informed of the
movement of the First Crusade in the
Alexiad.
Anna actually attributed the leader and
catalyst of the First Crusade to Peter the
Hermit. Anna states that, returning from
the Holy Land after suffering at the
hands of the Turks, Peter claimed that
God had ‘commanded him to proclaim to
all the counts of France that all
should…strive to liberate Jerusalem from
the Agarenes’. Attributing the crusade to
Peter is a stroke of genius. It clears
Alexios of any charge of involvement in
the First Crusade and allows Anna to
demonise the crusaders without
incriminating her father. Alexios could
have conducted diplomacy with the
Papacy in inciting the crusade – he
certainly could not have done the same
with Peter the Hermit. At the same time,
he was not a completely unrealistic
figure to blame for the crusade. Peter
had roused a large group to travel east,
known as the ‘People’s Crusade’, clearly
due to his success as a preacher. He
was also the first to arrive, and the first
crusader ‘army’ to meet the Byzantines.
Determining to what extent Anna
is attempting to deceive us here helps us
understand to what degree she is
targeting the crusaders and, through this,
Manuel. This invites the argument on the
other extreme, proposed by Peter
Frankopan. Frankopan suggests that
Alexios had a far more active hand in the
call for a crusade. This moves away from
the more tradition assertion that Alexios
simply expected a few well-trained
mercenaries, like those he received from
Robert I of Flanders a decade earlier, to
something which seems to agree more
with Western sources. For example,
Ekkehard of Aura notes that,
The Byzantinist | 23
Even the aforementioned
emperor of Constantinople,
Alexios, sent not a few letters
to Pope Urban [II] concerning
these barbarian
depredations, which had
already flooded the greater
part of his realm. In these
letters he lamented not
having sufficient forces to
defend the eastern Churches
and implored the pope, if it
were possible, to call upon
the West…
Indeed, Frankopan suggests that
Alexios was attempting to do more than
simply request large military support for
the east. This is not suggested in the
passages by Ekkehard of Aura and
Gilbert of Mons, yet a similar tactic was
tried by the Byzantines in 1062, when
three envoys from the emperor
Constantine X requested assistance
from the Papacy against the Normans
as well as for an expedition to
Jerusalem. Hence, this level of
involvement by Alexios seriously
undermines the reliability of Anna’s
account – if she covered the truth here,
did she do it elsewhere?
On the other hand, two key
problems arise within Frankopan’s
argument. He asserts that the Byzantine
Empire, particularly Alexios, was in an
awfully precarious position by the
mid-1090s, so turned to the west to
seek aid in a final act of desperation.
Yet, by 1095 Alexios’ position was far
more stable than it had been in the early
1080s. Victory over the Normans and
the collapse of Seljuk power in the East
(the same collapse of power,
incidentally, that led to the success of
the First Crusade), secured the perfect
conditions for Byzantine expansion.
Frankopan also argues that the rumours
that were circulated about the treatment
of Christians by the Muslim rulers of the
Holy Land were so consistent because
‘so much of the information was
emanating from the emperor’. Indeed,
the rumours were very similar, but there
may be a simpler explanation. Rumours
of churches being destroyed, and
Christians being persecuted are fairly
common tactics when inciting a
The Byzantinist | 24
movement and did not necessarily have
to be created by one figure. Any
attempt to unite a group against a
common enemy will paint that enemy in
a prejudiced light, suggesting that they
are barbaric and violent. To take some
random events from history, in the
aftermath of the capture of
Constantinople in 1453, the cardinal
Bassilios Bessarion wrote that
Constantinople was ‘captured,
despoiled, ravaged and completely
sacked by the most inhuman barbarians
and the most savage enemies of the
Christian faith, by the fiercest of wild
beasts.’ When the Irish rose up in
rebellion in 1641, pamphlets depicting
the rebels carrying spikes with the
young impaled upon them were widely
circulated. And a countless number of
propaganda posters from the First and
Second World wars depict the opposing
side as destroyers of culture and
humanity (the most obvious being the
‘Destroy this mad brute – enlist’ poster
from the First World War).
So, although Frankopan’s argument
goes too far, it certainly heads in the
right direction, and implicates
Magdalino’s argument. But there is
another explanation. Every writer, whilst
influenced by their own life experiences,
are also influenced by the context of the
time of their writings. The parts of
Psellos’ Chronographia written in the
1070s are often considered of a
different nature to those written a
decade earlier. The same approach
must be done when referring to the
Alexiad. Anna was writing during the
1140s and critically during the Second
Crusade. This is the view held by P.
Stephenson, who asserts that the
Alexiad is an excellent source for the
Second Crusade, especially sentiments
of the Byzantine aristocracy at the time.
In this way, Anna’s painting of the
crusaders as barbaric and violent is not
an attempt to criticise Manuel but to
remind the Byzantines that the
crusaders are not the ally of the empire
but the enemy. Indeed, Anna’s opening
remarks point to her attempt to stop the
‘stream of Time’ plunging the deeds of
men into darkness. Presumably this
includes both the good and the
destructive.
The Byzantinist | 25
Moreover, Anna explicitly paints the
crusaders as oath-breakers. This is the
line of argument John France takes. In
the Alexiad, Bohemond takes Antioch
purely to ‘glorify himself’, and not for the
sake of Christendom or even the Latins
themselves. In doing so, Bohemond and
the other leaders of the crusaders broke
the oaths they swore to Alexios – the
same oaths Manuel demanded of the
leaders of the Second Crusade. Anna
takes this further by including the entire
Treaty of Devol (the one between
Bohemond and Alexios after the
former’s defeat, which handed over
Antioch to the latter). The inclusion of
this is quite unorthodox and is very
clearly highlighting the treachery of
Tancred and the crusaders. One might
suggest that this is a criticism of
Manuel’s close relations with the Latins,
but of course, Alexios had also
demanded oaths be taken by the
crusaders. This is a key similarity
between Alexios and Manuel. So,
instead of a criticism of Manuel as
being different from his grandfather, it is
a warning and a reminder to the
Byzantines that these oaths do not
work. In the Alexiad, Alexios – out of no
fault of his own – underestimated the
treachery of the crusaders, and his
efforts to make the Latins swear oaths
came to naught.
Hence, we are left with these
different views on Anna Komnene’s
Alexiad. As flawed as her writings are,
one cannot imagine studying the reign
of Alexios without them. But to
understand the reign of her father, or
Byzantium’s relations with the
crusaders, or indeed the passage of the
First Crusade itself, one must assess
the Anna’s agenda in the Alexiad. Few
works remain so explicit in their biases,
and yet so mysterious in their aims.
The Byzantinist | 26
A Speech by Demetrius Cydones John Francis Martin (Corpus Christi College)
Loukas Notaras’
famous line ‘it would
be better to see the
turban reign in the
City’s midst than the
Latin mitre’ epitomises
an attitude well known
to all students of
Byzantium, one which
continues to elicit
lively debate. A 2
fascinating and unique insight into the
matter of Byzantine anti-Latinism and
Turkish relations is found in a speech
made by Demetrius Cydones in 1366 to 3
2 Doukas, 37.10. Certainly the significance of the line can be nuanced by asking questions such as: Was Notaras referring to western spiritual rule rather than temporal? Does the Greek word καλύπτραν really refer to a bishops mitre, or to some other symbol of authority? Or did Notaras even say it – he who fought bravely against the Turks in 1453? 3 Cydones was a one of the first Byzantines ever to master Latin, developed a great love of western Scholasticism, especially Aquinas (whom he translated extensively into Greek), and eventually, in the wake of the Hesychast controversy, converted to Catholicism. He was also, it would seem, John V’s most senior minister, and it was in this capacity, while the
the assembled Senate. The motion:
Should we accept Western military aid
and the return of the key fortress of
Gallipoli (which an Italian crusading
force, under Amdeo VI of Savoy, had just
recaptured from Ottomans), or should
we, rather, turn them away and make
Peace with the Turks?
Cydones’ speech reveals that there
was a significant faction in
Constantinople, including members of
the Senatorial class, which was strongly
opposed to Western involvement in
Byzantine affairs, and which manifested
significant pro-Turkish tendencies. Part
of the great value of this primary source
is that, not only does it address a matter
which the majority of Byzantine writers
are slow to acknowledge, but it also
contains the foresight of almost a
century, before Byzantine society had
been irreparably rent asunder in the wake
of the Council of Florence, and a
meaningful act of defiance, before
emperor was away from the capital, that he made this remarkable speech.
The Byzantinist | 27
Turkish conquest was inevitable. It thus
offers us an invaluable lens through
which to observe the situation on the
ground, and helps illuminate some of the
societal attitudes, free of the rhetorical
extremes elicited by the crisis of the last
days, that may have contributed to
Byzantium’s ultimate collapse.
The peroration of Cydones’ Oratio Pro subsidio Latinorum (in Migne, PG 154, 1004-8):
To even consider such a
proposition [i.e., to reject
Amadeo’s offer of Gallipoli, and
refuse to welcome him into
Constantinople] is ridiculous. A
reasonable person, a citizen of a
city such as ours, would naturally
think anybody who says such
things to be insane. Indeed if
someone were our enemy, rather,
he would urge us to follow this
sort of advice. We, on the other
hand, holding to proper reasoning,
must not stand still, nor can we
allow the naysayers to persist in
spouting rampant nonsense, as
they look to gain the favour of I
can’t imagine whom with their
empty prattle. Rather, regarding
time wasted as long as we sit
deliberating, we ought to welcome
them [the Latins] like men long
away from home – from their
parents or their children or those
closest to them – and
acknowledging our thanks to
Providence for their enthusiasm,
openly attribute to Her their
present arrival; not, on account of
some small things which might
befall us or might not, do damage
to our freedom. To say nothing of
what is now expected by
everyone, even by those who are
burdened by these things... 4
For consider the condition to
which we have now been brought:
what is there to hope for if we
send these men away? We, for
whom the bounds of empire were
once coterminous with those of
the Christian world, now sit
thinking it good fortune if any of
us should be permitted to be
enslaved [i.e., rather than killed].
4 Line unclear.
The Byzantinist | 28
And the city most blessed of all
beneath heaven, to which every
people once swarmed on account
of its grace and delight and
surpassing splendour, has now
become a prison for its
inhabitants. On all sides her gates
are closed. None approach her
ports without peril. And those who
do put in, bringing with them
dread rumours from without,
experience far worse within. For,
for us within the walls there is
groaning, poverty, penury and
tears; but for those looking out
from the watchtowers there are
barbarian hordes, the ravaging of
the land, ditches full of the
corpses of our dead, and cruel
fire, consuming homes, churches,
the finest public buildings, and, in
a word, everything. And there are
blasphemies against God, and
(who could not shudder at it)
scorn of the Cross, and mockery
of the faith, and holy icons carried
about without honour, and terrible
threats, which not even he whom
we worship – Christ himself –
seems able to prevent.
Famine holds all in its grip. And no
land remains for us to cultivate,
nor can merchants make their
journeys without fear of pirates.
Wherefore to workmen their toil
seems useless, since they have
not the materials to ply their trade;
in the case of soldiers, fear
restrains the attack; and masters,
deserted by their slaves, receive in
their place that same lot. The
whole aspect of the city is seen by
all to have changed, as though in
mourning; and everyone, smitten
with this synod of evils, has
emigrated. Indeed, what perturbs
even the intelligent, is that even
from among the governing
classes many have become so
servile in their logic as to say that
there is some good to be had in
slavery at the hands of those
barbarians and in subjecting the
Romans to yet heavier burdens.
Thus they even go over to them
[the Turks] openly, spending
The Byzantinist | 29
specified lengths of time with
them, and receiving sheep, and
cattle, and horses, and money as
their bounty for betraying us. And
carousing with them they crow
our destruction and drink to the
house of one so-and-so, or to the
beauty of his wife, or to their
children, longing to be seen by
everyone to be venerated in their
presence. Having said and done
such things they then return,
intimating to the citizens that if
they do not keep quiet they shall
accuse them before their
“masters” [the Turks]; not
shrinking from calling those
destructive demons by such a
name. And they [the poor citizens]
in turn shudder, and pray for the
old age of those whom they
should rightly despise, beseeching
them [the traitors] to have a
thought for them in their revels.
Indeed these hirelings have
assumed such an outspokenness
that they do not even shrink from
making shameful public orations
on their [the Turks’] behalf and
from doing everything to gratify
them; which is nothing less than
betraying the city and openly
proclaiming them the masters of
all. And so it is that now even
those who desire to bring about
the fall of the City by treaty, are
fearful lest they be beaten to it by
those wretches in handing us
over.
Thus affairs have been brought to
an impasse, and thus to live in
freedom seems, in the time that
remains, the one thing near
impossible – because you
consider it a waste of time to
attempt to remedy our daily
losses, and think, moreover, that
passing the day at ease is what
most befits men, calling all of
those who urge the right thing
fools, and looking to bestow the
greatest honours upon those who
share in our contest for pleasures.
In addition to that, you welcome
those who are clearly our
enemies, deceived into trusting
The Byzantinist | 30
them, whereas those who have
assembled an army for us and
professed themselves our allies
[Amadeo and his troops] you
suspect, searching for pretexts on
which to annul our pacts of
friendship.
However, if, condemning the
former, we should make use of
those now given to us by God,
and, shaking off those who
oppose us and banishing those
tellers of tales for old women, you
should chose to fight the final
fight for our common salvation, I
think, and let this be said before
God, that all shall be well for us,
not merely at home, but also very
far afield. Not only shall we save
for our homeland that which
compensates for everything:
freedom; but we shall also rule
over more than before. All those
who were once under us will
return to us, and will submit to our
laws, whilst we, regaining our
courage, shall beset the
barbarians on all sides.
For now seeing us cowering, they
too naturally draw back [i.e., our
former subjects], and endure their
slavery, seeing their masters
shrinking from the task. But if they
should see us looking the matter
boldly in the face, they too would
contribute their resources. For if
the barbarians are beset from the
outside, their [Christian] subjects
will not long keep quiet.
For indeed, if one is to place any
trust in rumours and the word on
the street, there was a certain
prophecy that aid would come to
us and our city from the sea and
from the Alps, and all would see
them crushing the hubris of the
barbarians, and forcing them,
finally, to serve those whom they
had formerly ruled. And so it is
that the barbarians have always
harboured this very fear in their
hearts, so that whenever they
gather to deliberate the following
consensus always prevails, that
they ought not to be excessively
The Byzantinist | 31
heavy-handed when dealing with
us, but ought rather to destroy us
bit by bit, careful not to drive us to
despair, lest we, driven to
desperation, should flee to those
who are now present of their own
accord, and they [the Turks]
should have to march out and
fight a hard battle.
Let us therefore welcome this
prophecy as a good omen, one to
which even our enemies pay heed
when deliberating, and let us not
allow the exhortations of those in
favour of the barbarians to carry
the day. For it would be absurd,
when they [the Turks] fear these
very things, and pray for these
men [the Latins] to stay at home,
for us to then reject them when
they have arrived, and thus
choose to cooperate with the
desires of our enemies.
The Byzantinist | 32
The Society for the Promotion of Byzantine Studies
The Society for the Promotion of Byzantine Studies (SPBS) promotes the study of the history and culture, language and literature of the Byzantine Empire and its neighbours.
The Society organises: • an annual Symposium
• special events and lectures • study days for postgraduates
Members’ benefits: • Bulletin of British Byzantine Studies (BBBS)
• Autumn Newsletter • discounts on the Symposium registration fee
• student bursaries
For more information and details of how to join, see the Society’s website: www.byzantium.ac.uk
or contact:
The Membership Secretary Aikaterini Vavaliou Wadham College Oxford OX1 3PN
E-mail: [email protected]
The Byzantinist | 33