Dion C. Smythe (Ed) - Strangers To Themselves - The Byzantine Outsider (Society For The Promotion of Byzantine Studies - 8) - Ashgate (2000) PDF

STRANGERS THEMSELVES:
THE BYZANTINE OUTSIDER

Society for the Promotion of Byzantine Studies
Publications
8
STRANGERS T THEMSELVES:
THE BYZANTINE OUTSIDER
Papers from the Thirty-second Spring Symposium of Byzantine

Studies, University of Sussex, Brighton, March 1998
edited by
Dion C. Smythe
ASHGATE
VARIORUM
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Copright © 2000 by the Society for the Promotion of Byzantine Studies, papers 1-7 & 9-19.
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British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data

Strangers to Themselves: the Byzantine Outsider. Papers from the Thirty-second
Spring Symposium of Byzantine Studies, University of Sussex, Brighton, March
1998. - (Society for the Promotion of Byzantine Studies Publication: 8)
1. Byzantine Empire - Civilisation - Congresses
1. Smythe, Dion II. Society for the Promotion of Byzantine Studies
949.5'013
US Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

The Library of Congress Catalog Card Number has been preassigned as :
00 -130354
This volume is printed on acid-free paper.
SOCIETY FOR THE PROMOTION OF BYZANTINE STUDIES - PUBLICATION 8

Printed and bound in Great Britain by MPG Books Ltd, Bodmin, Cornwall
Contents
Editor's Preface vii
List of Abbreviations ix
List of Plates x
Margaret Mullett The 'Other' in Byzantium 1
2. John McGuckin Aliens and Citizens of Elsewhere:

Xeniteia in East Christian Monastic
Literature 23
Janet Rutherford Byzantine Asceticism - a Stranger

to the Church? 39
4. Jane Baun Middle Byzantine 'Tours of Hell':

Outsider Theodicy? 47
5. Robert H. Jordan John of Phoberou: a Voice Crying

in the Wilderness 61
6. Nancy Sev cenko The Hermit as Stranger in the Desert 75
7. Joelle Beaucamp Exclues et alienees: les femmes dans la

tradition canonique byzantine 87
8. Nicholas de Lange Hebrews, Greeks or Romans? Jewish

Culture and Identity in Byzantium 105
9. Hanna Jacobsohn The Enigma of the Romaniote

(Jewish-Byzantine) Tombs 119
10. David Jacoby The Byzantine Outsider in

Trade (c.900-c.1350) 129
v
vi CONTENTS
11. Paul Magdalino Constantinople and the Outside

World 149
12. Lyn Rodley Patron Imagery from the

Fringes of the Empire 163
13. Roderick Beaton The World of Fiction and the

World 'Out There': the Case
of the Byzantine Novel 179
14. Elizabeth Jeffreys Akritis and Outsiders 189
15. Charlotte Roueche Defining the Foreign in Kekaumenos 203
16. Geoffrey Greatrex Procopius the Outsider? 215
17. Liliana Simeonova Foreigners in Tenth-Century

Byzantium: a Contribution to
the History of Cultural Encounter 229
18. Paul Stephenson Byzantine Conceptions of Otherness

after the Annexation of Bulgaria (1018) 245
19. Robin Cormack Afterword by an Art Historian 259
Index 265
Editor's Preface
As symposiarch of the thirty-second Spring Symposium - outsider by name

and outsider by nature - I find myself with a happy task of thanking the
many people who enabled the 'symposium that almost didn't happen' to
take place. I blame Liz James, myself. She e-mailed me with the rash
suggestion of a second symposium at Sussex, and failed to bring me down
with a tackle when I lifted the ball and ran. She persuaded the authorities at
the University of Sussex that an invasion of Byzantinists for the second year
running would be a good idea; she drew together (all the while protesting
that the symposium was nothing to do with her) the local team without
which 'Strangers' would have been impossible. Her 'Advice and
Anecdotes' have helped greatly in bringing this volume to final fruition,
though she bears no responsibility for its faults, errors and omissions.
It is a topos of these introductions to say that the symposia are the results
of team-work. As we now know, just because something is a topos does not
make it empty of meaning. Karen Wraith was local organizer: like the
Byzantine title mystikos, it hides its meaning well. Karen Wraith was the
person who made the symposium work: all the little problems that are
never so little just vanished. Without her the symposium could not have
taken place. Bente Kortegard Bjr rnholt was her admirable second in
command, who led her local troops to victory. Many of these local troops
are known only to themselves and God, but honourable mention and my
sincerest thanks go to Bev Barstow, Ed Davis, Martin Dench and David
Felton who turned out yet again to stand and wait.
Thanks beyond measure are also due to the many charitable trusts and
foundations that enabled the symposium to take place. Support was
received from the British Academy, the Hellenic Foundation, the Leventis
Foundation and Variorum (a division of Ashgate Publishing Limited). Their
generous support of the Spring Symposia, now extending over many years,
enables the work of these conferences to continue. As symposiarch of
Sussex '98, I am grateful also to the Society for the Promotion of Byzantine
Studies, who agreed to underwrite the conference should it fail to break
even. There was no need for Jubilee remission; and for that I thank all those
who registered, paid and occupied the rooms that had been pre-booked
and bought the mugs and t-shirts, all of which helped pay for the event.
Without symposiasts inside, symposia are as nothing.
Vii
viii EDITOR'S PREFACE
I envisioned 'Strangers' as an exploration of the ways in which the

concept of 'outsider' could be used to explore issues in Byzantine studies.
Speakers were asked not to focus on lists of foreigners, but to play with the
concept in new and divergent ways. They took me at my word. I thank all
the speakers who came to Brighton willing to venture something new. The
papers presented here give some flavours of what we talked about, what
we discussed and what we heard. Those readers who turn to the
concluding paper by Robin Cormack expecting to find 'the answer' will
come away disappointed: there is no single answer and to expect one is to
miss the point. One has to be outside the question in a way to see its
relevance. What I hope emerged at 'Strangers 98' and what is clear in this
collection of papers, is that the concept of the outsider and outsidemess can
provide interesting avenues of exploration through Byzantine studies.
The production of a volume is always a daunting undertaking. I am
grateful to John Smedley, Ruth Peters and Kirsten Weissenberg (all three
great exponents of sangfroid and dispatch) at Ashgate Publishing Limited
for all their help and willingness to deal with missed deadlines, slow
working, Spanish practices of all sorts and naive questions. I also wish to
record my thanks to Robin Cormack as Chairman of the SPBS executive
and Elizabeth Jeffreys as series editor and chair of the SPBS publications
committee for their staunch support. The final debt is to Daniel Farrell who
compiled the index.
Dion C. Smythe
just outside the
City of London
December, 1999
Abbreviations
AnalBoll Analecta Bollandiana
B Byzantion
Blockley, FCH R.C. Blockley, The Fragmentary Classicizing Historians of
the Later Roman Empire (Liverpool, 1981-3)
BMGS Byzantine and Modern Greek Studies
ByzFors Byzantinische Forschungen
Bsl Byzantinoslavica
BZ Byzantinische Zeitung
DOP Dumbarton Oaks Papers
EHR English Historical Review
Jones, LRE A.H.M. Jones, The Later Roman Empire (Oxford, 1964).
JOB Jahrbuch der Osterreichischen Byzantinistik
JRS Journal of Roman Studies
JThS Journal of Theological Studies
ODB Oxford Dictionary of Byzantium, ed. A. Kazhdan, 3 vols
(Oxford and New York, 1991)
P&P Past and Present
REB Revue des etudes byzantines
Stein II E. Stein, Histoire dig Bas-Empire, vol. 2 (Amsterdam, 1949).
TM Travaux et memoires
For all other abbreviations, consult JOB, and the main English-anguage Greek
lexica (LSJ, Lampe, Sophocles)
Plates
Plate 9.1: General View of the Romaniote Tombs at Chalkis 125

(photo: Hanna Jacobsohn)
Plate 9.2: Detail of one of the Romaniote Tombs at Chalkis

126
Plate 9.3: Detail of Hebrew Inscription of one of the Romaniote 127

Tombs at Chalkis (photo: Hanna Jacobsohn)
Plate 9.4: Detail of Hebrew Inscription of one of the Romaniote 128

Tombs at Challcis (photo: Hanna Jacobsohn)
Plate 12: 1 St Demetrios (Dali) (drawing: Lyn Rodley) 175
Plate 12:2 Kirk Dam Alti Kilise (Belisirma) (drawing: Lyn Rodley) 175
Plate 12:3 Karaba Kilise (Soganli) (drawing: Lyn Rodley) 175
Plate 12:4 Karanhk Kilise (Goreme) (drawing: Lyn Rodley) 176
Plate 12:5 Holy Anargyroi (Kastoria) (drawing: Lyn Rodley) 176
Plate 12:6 Church of the Anastasis (Veria) (drawing: Lyn Rodley) 176
Plate 12:7 Pigeon House Church (drawing: Lyn Rodley) 177

Plate 12:8 Panagia Phorbiotissa (Asinou) (drawing: Lyn Rodley) 177
Plate 12:9 Panagia Eleousa (Lake Prespa) (drawing: Lyn Rodley) 178
Plate 12:10 Chora Monastery (Constantinople) 178

(drawing: Lyn Rodley)
x
1. The 'Other' in Byzantium
Margaret Mullett
Had a symposium on the Byzantine outsider been held in France, there is
no doubt that the 'Other' would have dominated discussion. A
symposium in Sussex on the Byzantine outsider promised more eclectic -
if not less prejudiced - approaches. After all, we all know what an
outsider is, don't we? Someone who doesn't quite fit in, not one of us, a
bit of a rebel perhaps, a loner.' We might have said forty years ago 'an
Angry Young Man', in celebration of Colin Wilson's instant best-seller,
perhaps the true progenitor of the symposium. This book, The Outsider, a
study of Barbusse, and Camus, Hesse and Dostoevsky, T.E. Lawrence,
Van Gogh and Nijinsky, Blake and Kierkegaard,2 was deeply affected by
the existentialist milieu out of which emerged Simone de Beauvoir, who
in The Second Sex first introduced many academic feminists to the concept
of alterity, to the idea of woman as not the subject of academic inquiry,
but as the object, the Other.' She did this with her famous accusation of
sexism against Levinas's Time and the Other which - as his editor Hand
says - 'appears to offer a male-oriented discourse', as he brings the
Subject out into alterity to meet work, death, eros and fecundity.' He was
indebted to Husserl and Heidegger and ultimately to Freud; but
For more rigorous definitions, see D.C. Smythe, 'Byzantine perceptions of the
outsider in the eleventh and twelfth centuries: a method' (Unpublished PhD thesis, St
Andrews, 1992).
2 C. Wilson, The Outsider (London, 1956).
S. de Beauvoir, Le deuxieme sexe (Paris, 1949), tr. H.M. Parshley, The Second Sex
(Harmondsworth, 1972).
De Beauvoir, Second Sex, 16 and n. 1; E. Levinas, 'Le temps et 1'autre', in J. Wahl, ed.,
Le choix, le monde, 1'existence (Grenoble and Paris, 1947), tr. R.A. Cohen, Time and the Other
(Pittsburgh, PA, 1987); S. Hand, The Levinas Reader (Oxford, 1989), 38; J. Llewellyn,
Emmanuel Levinas; the Genealogy of Ethics (London, 1995), esp. 98-99; C. Davis, Levinas: an
Introduction (Cambridge, 1996), esp. 38-47; I am grateful to Dr Stephen Kelly for advice
here.
From Strangers to Themselves: The Byzantine Outsider, ed. Dion C. Smythe. Copyright © 2000
by the Society for the Promotion of Byzantine Studies. Published by Ashgate Publishing
Ltd, Gower House, Croft Road, Aldershot, Hampshire, GU113HR, Great Britain.
1
2 MARGARET MULLETT
postmodern French feminists through Lacan have come to terms with the
concept, and indeed with Levinas.s We may still be shocked when we
come upon this sexist discourse, especially in its least explicit forms: the
interpolated first sentence of the ODB entry on women, 'the Byzantine
attitude towards women was ambivalent', appears again, almost
verbatim, in Cavallo's anthology The Byzantines, placing in question the
status of the exercise as a Who are these Byzantines? we ask. Are
whole.6
these male Byzantines? Or did female Byzantines collude in their ascribed

status, so marginalized as to be off the map? Or just the Byzantines who
have left us a record? This is a major methodological problem of the
symposium theme: how do we arrive at 'the Byzantines' for whom there
is an 'Other'? (Anthropologists have recently become cautious about
generalizing from a few subjects to a whole community,' and this is an
issue which goes to the heart of historical method as well.) But the Other
for Levinas is not just the feminine (or the female), and its priority is at
the basis of his philosophy: he is endlessly obligated to it and responsible
for it.8 For Edward Said, however, the Other involves detachment and
exteriority: orientalists (in Said's sense) comment on the oriental with a
certainty that these (orientalist and oriental) are watertight compart-
ments: the orientalists make of themselves - or Said makes of them -
outsiders! In a way, the intellectual or artist as outsider is not an
unfamiliar concept, though it is one that Wilson abandoned in his book as
too easy. 10
But this exteriority is not what in English we regard as an outsider,
though we are notoriously unenthusiastic about intellectuals: our
outsider is far more like John Italos in Anna Komnene's Alexiad. He was a
powerful arguer, with his fists as well as with his tongue, and
T. Moi, Sexual/Textual Politics: Feminist Literary Theory (London, 1985), 98-99; see for
5
example, L. Irigaray, 'Cosi fan tutti', Ce sexe qui n'en est pas un (Paris, 1997), 85-101; tr. C.
Porter (Ithaca, New York, 1985), 86-105. See Davis, Levinas: an Introduction, 140 on a
feminist reading of Levinas.
6
ODB, III, 201; A.-M. Talbot, 'Women', in G. Cavallo, ed., The Byzantines (Chicago
and London, 1997), 117.
' For example A.P. Cohen, Self Consciousness. An Alternative Anthropology of Identity
(London, 1994), ix: 'I squirm with some discomfort'.
a See for example Levinas, 'Beyond intentionality', in A. Montefiore, ed., Philosophy in
France Today (Cambridge, 1983), 112-113.
' E.W. Said, Orientalism. Western Conceptions of the Orient (London, 1978; reprinted
Harmondsworth, 1995).
" Wilson, Outsider, 14-15.
THE 'OTHER' IN BYZANTIUM 3
neither his defective pronunciation nor the clipping of sounds

escaped the notice of most people and the better educated accused
him of vulgarity. It was this that led him to string his arguments
together with dialectic commonplaces. They were by no means
exempt from faults of composition and there was in them liberal
sprinkling of solecisms.
He fares no better in the Timarion where Pythagoras snubs him and he

gets into a fight with Diogenes the Cynic." What is not ultimately clear is
why he is picked upon. It is surely not because of his heresy - though it
might be a more Byzantine approach to lampoon a representative of a
perceived minority than to apply the stereotypes Jeffrey Richards studies;
Richards follows Gilman in interpreting these stereotypes of leprosy,
disease, sodomy and witchcraft in terms of the self and the Other.12 But is
Italos mocked because of his perceived provincialism? The boy from the
backwoods? (Alexios Komnenos, also from the sticks, in Paphlagonia,
made very good, is sneered at only by twentieth-century Byzantinists1).
Or is his problem ethnicity? Perceptions of certain westerners in
Byzantium are explored below by David Jacoby.14 Or was he seen more
like poor patriarch Tryphon, who inadvertently signed his own
resignation, because of inadequate literacy skills?15 Snobbery, prejudice,
discrimination, a sense of personal and cultural superiority, all
concomitants of labelling as we know it.16
" Anna Komnene, Alexiad, V.viii, ed. B. Leib, 3 vols (Paris, 1937-45), II, 32-337;
Timarion, ch. 43-44, lines 1077-1121, ed. R. Romano, Timarion, Byz et NeoHellNeap 2
(Naples, 1974), 88-89.
" J. Richards, Sex, Dissidence and Damnation: Minority Groups in the Middle Ages
(London and New York, 1990); S.L. Gilman, Difference and Pathology: the Stereotypes of
Sexuality, Race and Madness (New York, 1985).
" L. Clucas, The Trial of John Italos and the Crisis of Intellectual Values in Byzantium in the
Eleventh Century, Misc.Byz.Monac. 26 (Munich, 1981), esp. 3-8.
14
See Jacoby, below 129-147.
15
John Skylitzes, Synopsis historion, ed. H. Thurn, Synopsis historiaruni, editio princeps
(CFHB, 5, Berlin and New York, 1973), 226-227.
16
H.S. Becker, Outsiders: Studies in the Sociology of Deviance (New York, 1963); J.I.
Kitsuse, 'Societal reaction to deviant behavior', Social Problems 9 (1962), 247-256; E. Lemert,
'Stuttering and social structure in two Pacific island communities', in E. Lemert ed., Hunan
Deviance, Social Problems and Social Control (Englewood Cliffs, NJ, 1967), 183-206; D. Matza,
Becoming Deviant (Englewood Cliffs, NJ, 1969); E. Goode, 'On behalf of labeling theory',
Social Problems 22 (1974-75), 570-583; A. Liazos, 'The poverty of the sociology of deviance:
nuts, sluts and preverts', Social Problems 20 (1972-73), 103-120; M. Freilich, D. Raybeck, J.
Savishinsky, eds, Deviance: Anthropological Perspectives (New York, Westport, CT and
London, 1991).
4 MARGARET MULLETT
The organizers of the symposium set a visual puzzle, by choosing as

the conference poster fol. 1(2bis)" of the Paris Homilies of John
Chrysostom (Coislin 79). What we see here in these richly luxurious
pages is the charmed circle of Byzantine rule: the Almighty who crowns
and legitimates his vice-gerent who crowns and so legitimates the
augousta, who is essential to the empire. What could be more on the inside
track? How can Nikephoros and Maria (or Michael and Maria1), be
outsiders? Maria of Alania was of course a Georgian princess, one of the
marriers-in whose acculturation was discussed at the symposium by
Barbara Zeitler. But these marriers-in, it has been argued, were essential
to the development of Byzantine culture in the period.18 Maria was also of
course a woman, and vulnerable as a mother, though she was one of
those who turned that vulnerability into strength in the 1080s.'9 She was a
serial bride, which might have been difficult at some periods,20 and she is
regarded by some writers to have taken the veil, though it has to be said
it did not cramp her style very much.21 If we regard this as Michael VII,
we see an emperor who lost out to a usurper and was to live out his life
as metropolitan of Ephesus in the monastery of Manuel in
Constantinople, a loser if not an outsider-22 If we regard him as
Paris. Coislin 79, fol. 1 (2bis). The illustration was apparently first of Michael and
17
Maria, then after the change of regime was cut out and pasted into a new frame, relabelled
as Nikephoros and altered to make his face look older. In contrast, fol. 1 (2bis)`was a 'new'
picture of Nikephoros. See H.C. Evans and W.D. Wixom, eds, The Glory of Byzantium (New
York, 1997), 182 and 207-209.
1B E. Jeffreys, 'Western infiltration of the Byzantine aristocracy: some suggestions', in
M. Angold, ed., The Byzantine Aristocracy, IX-XIII centuries, BAR Int ser. 221 (Oxford,
1983),
202-210; see D. Smythe, 'Women as outsiders', in L. James, ed., Women, Men and Eunuchs:
Gender in Byzantium (London, 1995), 149-167 at 158f. on Maria as insider.
1B M.E. Mullett, 'Alexios Komnenos and imperial renewal', in P. Magdalino, ed., New
Constantines: the Rhythm of Imperial Renewal in Byzantium, SPBS 2 (Aldershot, 1994), 257-267;
B. Hill, 'Alexios I Komnenos and the imperial women', in M. Mullett and D. Smythe, eds,
Alexios I Komnenos, I, Papers, BBTT, 4.1 (Belfast, 1996), 37-54.
21 J. Beaucamp, Le statut de la femme a Byzance (4e-7e siecle), I, Le droit imperial, Travaux
et memoires, Monographies 5 (Paris, 1990), 226-238; A.E. Laiou, Mariage, amour et parente a
Byzance aux XIe-XIIIe siecles, Travaux et memoires, Monographies 7 (Paris, 1992),
12-13; see
also Beaucamp, below, 87-103.
21 She is shown as receiving panegyric and endowing monasteries in the early 1080s,
Theophylact, Paideia basilike, ed. P. Gautier, Theophylacte d'Achrida: discours, traites, poesies,
CFHB 16/1 (Thessalonike, 1980), 185-193; bringing up Anna in the late 1080s to early
1090s, Al., III.1.4, ed. Leib, I, 105, and being suspected of involvement in the Diogenes
conspiracy in 1094, Al., IX.viii.2, ed. Leib, II, 179.
Zonaras, Epitome historian, XVIH.19, ed. T. Biittner-Wobst, CSHB (Bonn, 1897), 111,
723.
Nikephoros Botaneiates, he describes himself in a message to the

Komnenoi in Anna's history as a lonely old man with neither son nor
brother nor relative; when the Komnenos brothers took over the city he
was taken to the Peribleptos from Hagia Sophia and tonsured:
Such is the way of fortune: when she wishes to smile on a man she
exalts him on high, crowns him with a royal diadem, gives him
sandals of purple; but when she frowns instead of the purple and
the crown she clothes him in ragged garments of black. And this
was the fate of Botaneiates now. When he was asked by one of his
friends if he found the change tolerable, he replied: 'abstinence
from meat is the only thing that worries me: the other matters
cause little concern.''
What we can say about all of them is that if the manuscript is to be dated
to either side of 1078, three years later they were all three out of the inner
circle of empire, Michael in the Manuel, Nikephoros in the Peribleptos,
Maria in an alternative court at the Mangana, making up to her adopted
son the new emperor, then progressively slipping from power as Alexios
and John ceased to need her.24 If Cheynet has made us see usurpation or
attempted usurpation as the cornerstone of the Byzantine political way of
life, the transience of empire was revealed long ago by Guilland's lists of
the fates of Byzantine emperors. We should also bear in mind the
dependence of our historical record on disgraced or exiled politicians: we
think not just of Kantakouzenos exploring his past in the light of a new
identity, but Anna in Kecharitomene, Zonaras in Hagia Glykeria,
Kinnamos out of office, Niketas excluded from Constantinople and
voicing an exile culture are the norm not the exceptions.26 Even the most
Al., III.i.1, ed. Leib, I, 103-104.

M.E. Mullett, 'The "disgrace" of the ex-basilissa Maria', BS 45 (1984), 202-211.
25
J.-C. Cheynet, Pouvoir et contestations a Byzance 963-1250, ByzSorb 9 (Paris, 1990); R.
Guilland, 'Le destine des empereurs de Byzance', EEBS 24 (1954), 37-66.
26
For Kantakouzenos see D.M. Nicol, The Reluctant Emperor: a Biography of John
Cantacuzene, Byzantine Emperor and Monk, c. 1295-1383 (Cambridge, 1996); for Anna, still G.
Buckler, Anna Comnena; a Study (Oxford, 1929); for Zonaras, I. Grigoriadis, 'Linguistic and
literary studies in the Epitome Istorion of John Zonaras' (Unpublished PhD thesis, St
Andrews, 1996), for Kinnamos, R. Macrides and P. Magdalino, 'The fourth kingdom and
the rhetoric of hellenism', in P. Magdalino, ed., The Perception of the Past in Twelfth-Century
Europe (London, 1992), for Niketas Choniates, A. Kazhdan, Studies on Byzantine Literature of
the Eleventh and Twelfth Centuries, Past and Present Publications (Cambridge, 1984), ch. VII,
256-286, and Kazhdan's extensive but unpublished commentary on Niketas. There is a
6 MARGARET MULLETT
frequently used source of our most cherished visualizations of the

Byzantine way of life, the Madrid Skylitzes, has been shown to be an
outsider's view, what a group of artists in Norman Sicily thought went on
in Byzantium.27
So should we see our symposium icons as individuals, or as
representative of a group? Snapshots or group portraits?21 Should we
compare Maria or Nikephoros or Michael to those Byzantines who we all
have an inkling are not just the most characteristic, like Kekaumenos, let
us say, or Neophytos or Symeon the New Theologian?29 There is some
doubt whether as historians we should be doing this labelling anyway,
and even if we internalize what we can reconstruct of the Byzantine value
system, we have our own prejudices to deal with. Kekaumenos, let us
admit, has more than a flavour of 'Disgusted, Tunbridge Wells' about
him; can anyone be so suspicious of mushrooms, doctors, friends,
bureaucrats let alone symposia? We find it much easier to accept
Galatariotou's characterization of him as a man who felt he was just
about to break at the seams than to accept Kazhdan's assumption that his
fears as expressed in the Strategikon can be used to posit a generalized
Byzantine culture of fear.30 But here is the rub, Cohen's crux: to generalize
from an exception, an eccentric, an outsider, looks highly dubious. If it
was embarrassing for Cohen as an anthropologist to look back on his
early work and realize he had generalized from seven informants,31 to
posit a culture of fear from a single informant is not best practice in
sense of course in which - even in Byzantium - 'all political careers end in failure' and in
their rewriting.
27 For the Skylitzes manuscript, see A. Grabar and M. Manoussacas, L'illustration
dii
manuscrit de Slajlitzes de la Bibliotheque nationale de Madrid, Bibliotheque
de l'Institut
hellenique d'etudes byzantines et post-byzantines de Venise 10 (Venice,
1979); for the
dating, N.G. Wilson, 'The Madrid Skylitzes', Scrittura e civiltd 2 (1978), for its Sicilian nature
see I. Sevoenko, 'The Madrid ms of Skylitzes in the light of its new dating', in I. Hutter, ed.,
Byzanz and der Westen. Studien der Kunst des europiiischen Mittelalters, Osterreichische
Akademie der Wissenschaften, Phil.hist. Kl., Sitzungsberichte 432 (Vienna,
1984), 117-130;
a Belfast project, with partners in Melbourne and Sussex, will examine aspects of
interculturality and perception of display as well the basic issues of narrative; cf.
now R.
Cormack, 'Lessons from "The glory of Byzantium" ', Dialogos 5 (1998), 27-39 at 32.
28
As suggested by Robin Cormack at the symposium.
29
See below, Greatrex, 215-228 on Procopius as an example of this approach.
On Kekaumenos see C. Galatariotou, 'Open space/closed space: the perceived
worlds of Kekaumenos and Digenes Akritas', Alexios I Koninenos, I, 302-328; A. Kazhdan
and G. Constable, People and Power in Byzantium: an Introduction to Modern Byzantine Studies
(Washington, DC, 1982), 36 and below, Roueche, 203-214.
31 Cohen, Self Consciousness, ix.
history either. But it is harder for us than for the anthropologist: he can go
back and ask the others - or record what the Others told his wife32 -
whereas we are stuck with Kekaumenos and can only attempt to
construct for him a context, which Charlotte Roueche does below.33 How
about Symeon the New Theologian? It took a long time to detach him
from an apparently seamless hesychast tradition, and make him an
outsider who needed to be rehabilitated by an enthusiastic pupil?' it took
another stage before John McGuckin showed us the Symeon who was an
aristocratic monastic founder, at the heart of late tenth-century court life
and politics.35 Or Neophytos of Cyprus: here Galatariotou presents him
not as the cranky outsider his writings and patronage suggest36 but as the
outsider who is the quintessential Brownian holy man, required by
society to stand outside the norms of society, and in particular needed
because of the evils of Cyprus at the time, long after the holy man had
proved redundant in Constantinople.37
This is another option, a structural-functionalist view. Should we see
Michael/Nikephoros and Maria as necessary outsiders in a rather similar
way? It is only a matter of time, I think, before the prevalence, the almost
structural prevalence, of usurpation in Byzantium is set in the
anthropological context of stranger-kings 38 Even if we jib at that idea, we
may concede that an emperor is set apart from the populace through his
court, ringed by eunuchs who are themselves made strange, marked by
32 See Cohen's discussion, Self Consciousness, 80-90, of recent reassessment of John

Campbell's fieldwork for Honour, Family and Patronage: a Study of Institutions and Moral
Values in a Greek Mountain Community (Oxford, 1964) following the publication of J.K.
Campbell, 'Fieldwork among the Sarakatsani 1954-55', in J. de Pina-Cabral and J.K.
Campbell, eds, Europe Observed (Basingstoke, 1992), 148-166.
J3 See below, Roueche, 203-214.
39
I. Hausherr, 'Paul Evergetis a-t-il connu Symeon le Nouveau Theologien?', OCP 23
(1957), 58-79.
35
J .A. McGuckin, 'Symeon the New Theologian (d.1022) and Byzantine monasticism',
in A. Bryer and M. Cunningham, eds, Mount Athos and Byzantine Monasticism, SPBS 4
(Aldershot, 1996), 17-36.
36
His autohagiography is matched by peculiarities of iconography and architecture
such as angelic ascent with shared wings, and the placing of his special chamber vis-i -vis
the Ascension in the vault; see R. Cormack, Writing in Gold (London, 1985), 229-251.
" C. Galatariotou, The Making of a Saint: the Life, Times and Sanctification of Neophytos
the Recluse (Cambridge, 1991).
38
See for example forthcoming work by Declan Quigley predicated on M. Sahlins,
Islands of History (London and New York, 1987).
8 MARGARET MULLETT
the initiation or installation rituals which are imperial ceremony.39 What

we see in Coislin 79 is a visual iteration of that installation, and also the
legitimation of usurpation and erasure in this palimpsest40 image. But
why Maria? Why is the Other needed as well as the Subject in this most
basic scene of imperial iconography?
All this depends on how you view outsiders, and what kind of theory
you read. Smythe's labelling theory is primarily sociological,
concerned
with the largest of units, but if we look at smaller groups anthropology
offers various insights into ethnicity, liminality,
assimilation, the
performative egoismos of Herzfeld and the new reflexivity which sees the
anthropologist in the field as magician, trickster, outsider;41 to psychology
we owe concepts of the Self and the Other, the anatomy of the smallest
unit of all 42 all of these disciplines have claims on the concept of identity
and all of us need to engage with this concept. As outsiders like Said's
orientalists, we may think we can spot an outsider - but when
look at what they have themselves to say we are forced towerethink. start to
Everyone is an insider when you examine her personal
network. It is only
when you begin to add to that network the networks of others that the
picture becomes harder to read.93 If we take for example a diagram of
J9 Classically M. Fortes, 'On installation ceremonies', Proceedings of the Royal

Anthropological Institute (1968), 5-19.
40
In the sense that the image of the emperor has been altered,
scraped and rewritten manuscript. not in the sense of a
4'
On ethnicity see for example R. Jenkins, Rethinking Ethnicity: Arguments and
Explorations (London, Thousand Oaks and New Delhi, 1997);
on liminality, T.M. Wilson
and H. Donnan, eds, Border Identities: Nation and State at International
Frontiers (Cambridge,
1998); for egoismos, M. Herzfeld, The Poetics of Manhood: Contest
Mountain Village (Princeton, 1985); on reflexivity with and Identity in a Cretan
anthropologist
Hastrup, 'Writing ethnography: state of the art', in J. Okely and as magician, K.
A. Lock, eds, Anthropology
and Autobiography (London, 1992); as trickster, V.
Crapanzaro, Hermes' Dilemma and
Hamlet's Desire: on the Epistemology of Interpretation (Cambridge,
1992). The paper of
Stephenson, below, 239-251, owes something to these approaches,
as well as to B.
Anderson, Imagined Communities: Reflections on the Origin and Spread of Nationalism
and New York, 1983). (London
42 See for example J. Lacan, Ecrits (Paris, 1966), tr. A. Sheridan, Jacques Lacan, Ecrits,
a
Selection (London, 1977), especially ch. 2, 'The function and field
of speech and language in
psychoanalysis', ch. 5, 'The agency of the letter in the unconscious
or reason since Freud',
and ch. 9, 'The subversion of the subject and the dialectic
of desire in the Freudian
unconscious'. The paper of Simeonova, below, 223-238, touches
43 on issues of the self.
Contrast figs 2 and 3 in M. Mullett, Theophylact of Ochrid: Reading the Letters of a
Byzantine Archbishop, BBOM 2 (Aldershot, 1997), 192, 195.
twelfth-century letter-writers in Byzantium' we see that there seem to be

some authors hardly connected to any of those best connected of letter-
writers. Yet when we look closer we see that most of these are monks,
and if we look in monastic typika of the period we discover that monks
are in some cases expressly forbidden to carry on correspondences; 5 it is
unlikely that correspondence between the monastery and the world
would have been the norm when letters do exist. The slightest knowledge
of ideology may quickly undermine what appears to be empirical
observation.
So it is probably worth exploring, briefly, whether the Byzantines
thought at all in these terms of exteriority, of exclusion, of ins and outs.
They talk of course of an inner and an outer learning, of St Anthony's
inner and outer Mountain, of inner and outer narthekes leading the
faithful towards the sanctuary, from which some are excluded. They also
think in terms of concentricity, of pupils as a kpklos around a great man or
a patroness, or of rhetors as a choros, rather like the dancers in an
eleventh-century psalter in the Vatican.46 Concentricity is certainly one
way the Byzantines thought about cosmology,47 and in the Alexian
Konmenian Muses there is a clear image of the emperor in the City at the
centre, the empire around, and beyond that the encircling barbarians:
At that suit of armour the Celt trembles,

The Norman, seeing the support it gives
shortens canvas and timidly sails back,
at this the Persian and the whole breed of the Scythians,
at this the nations of the Arabs shudder,
at this the Abasgian, the audacious Keltiber
and the Indian race and the army of the Maurousioi
and the throng lying opposite on parallel sides,
at the north wind and at the south pole;
and they say the Ethiopians lie opposite 48
" M.E. Mullett, 'Theophylact through his letters', Fig. Ha (Unpublished PhD thesis,
Birmingham, 1981), R, 825.
'S For example Hypotyposis of Evergetis, 902-903, ed. P. Gautier, 'Le typikon de la
Theotokos Evergetis', REB 40 (1982), 5-111 at 65-67.
'b Vat. gr.752, 1058-59, Miriam's dance, see Glonj of Byzantitint, fig. 142.
47 Vat.gr.1291, fol. 9r: Ptolemy's geography: the zodiac, see A. Cutler and J.-M. Spieser,
Byzance medievale 700-1204 (Paris, 1996), fig. 30.
'e Mottsai, 1.272-281, P. Maas, ed., 'Die Musen des Kaisars Alexios I', BZ 22 (1913),
348-367 at 356; R.H. Jordan and C.E. Roueche, eds and trs, Alexios I Kontnenos, II, BBTT, 4.2
(Belfast, forthcoming).
10 MARGARET MULLETT
What we are offered in pictures is rather different, the world-view of

Kosmas Indikopleustes,49 who manages to appear to combine extreme
political orthodoxy with extraordinary cosmological eccentricity. Does
this make him another outsider - or is his just one Byzantine viewpoint
among many? Perhaps the middle Byzantine microcosm50 is as close as
we can get to a thoroughly orthodox world-view, with Pantokrator in the
dome, Virgin in the cave, feast scenes in vaults and saints on walls.51
There are other kinds of spatial representation Byzantines went in for:
a ladder shows the progression upwards, step by step, of ascetics towards
the divine, assailed by temptations and logismoi, and overshadowed by
patrons, and some drop off.52 Ascending scales, of virtues; 3 of human
relationships from slave-master up to brother-brother,54 from trivium to
quadrivium to theology, or rhetoric to psalter to epistle to gospel,55 exist,
just as downward models are also found. The emperor tramples on
" Sinai.gr.1186, fol. 66r, ed. W. Wolka-Comus (SC, 141, Paris, 1968), 186; cf. Through
Byzantine Manuscripts (Greek Ministry of Culture, Athens, 1995), fig. 32.
5°
T. Mathews, 'The sequel to Nicaea 11 in Byzantine church decoration', Perkins Journal
42 (1988),11-21.
" Kokkinobaphos homilies, Vat.gr.1162, 2v: the microcosm, see Cutler and Spieser,
Byzance, fig. 293.
52
Sinai: Klimakos icon, see Weitzmann, The Icon (London, 1978), p1. 25.
5'
Various Byzantine virtue-systems coexist: the ancient imperial virtues of panegyric
(andreia, dikaiosyne, phronesis, sophrosyne, supplemented in parainesis by sophia, praotes,
philanthropia and above all by eusebeia) have a close parallel in the novel, for example
Eustathios Makrembolites, Hysmine and Hysminias, 111-7: phronesis, ischus, sophrosyne and
themis. But there are also Christian virtues, the three theological (pistis, elpis, agape) as well
as the four cardinal. Klimax distinguishes between natural virtues (eleemosyne, agape, pistis,
elpis) and those which are beyond nature (agneia, aorgasia, tapeinophrosyne), some of which
do not seem to us like virtues at all but practices (proseuche, agrypnia, nesteia, katanyxis). In
Klimax's ladder, the early rungs 3-6 are occupied by fundamental virtues (hypakoe,
metanoia, nmeme thanatou, penthos), ascending through rungs 7-23, which are the control of
various vices, to the more advanced virtues of the higher rungs, 24-26, praotes,
tapeinophrosyne, diakrisis, which enable the move into physike with hesychia, proseuche,
apatheia and, at the very top, agape. This itself owes a great deal to Evagrios, both the
progression from praktike through physike to theologia and the importance of the praktike
stage for acquiring virtues, through resistance to the eight logismoi. See A. Louth, The
Origins of the Christian Mystical Tradition. From Plato to Denys (Oxford, 1981), 100-113.
' For example Nicholas Kataskepenos, VCyril, 9.2, ed. E. Sargologos, La vie de saint
Cyrille le Phileote, moine byzantin (11110), SubsidHag 39 (Brussels, 1964), 73.
55
Taxeis eis to ekklesiastika offikia, J, L, M, N, 0, ed. J. Darrouzes, Recherches sur les offikia
de l'eglise byzantine, AOC 11 (Paris, 1970), 555, 563, 566, 568, 571.
conquered peoples," the heretic grovels at the feet of the synod,57 as the
resurrection sets the tone with Hades vanquished by the triumphant
Christ.58 Discrimination, the separation of sheep from goats,59 observed by
60
Campbell among the Sarakatsanai as applying to their gender-system, is
found in the Byzantine love of systematizing and listing. No other
historians may have to deduce the organization of a bureaucracy from
four seating plans for banquets - but we should be grateful that it was so
important to note that the strategos of Kephallenia ranked above the
strategos of Cherson, in that taxis which was represented in ceremony and
to its practitioners ensured the continuity of a civilization.61 Social
exclusion62 is demonstrated at its most final in representations of the Last
Judgement63 from the eleventh century on, which draw on various of the
conceptualizations we have observed: the binary discrimination of sheep
and goats, left and right; the vertical downward implications of the
triumph over evil, the tidy pigeonholing of sinners by taxis or orders of
society (bishops here, women there) or by category of sinners, by vice or,
as Richards might say, by minority group.64 Here are usurers, who
succumbed to avarice; here are fallen women, who succumbed to the
demons of porneia. Not here the circles of Dante's hell, or the confusion of
Timarion's, or the joyful democracy of Moschos's vision of hell, where
you might find yourself conveniently able to use a bishop as a leg-up.65
56
Marc.gr.17, fol. 3r: Basil Psalter, see Cutler and Spieser, Byzance, fig. 254.
57 Vat.gr.1613, fol. 108: Arius at Nicaea, see C. Walter, L'iconographie des conciles dans lat
tradition byzantine, AOC, 13 (Paris, 1970), frontispiece.
59
A.D. Kartsonis, Anastasis: the Making of an Image (Princeton, 1986).
59
Ravenna, S. Apollinare Nuovo, see A. Grabar, Byzantium from the Death of Theodosius
to the Rise of Islam (London, 1966), fig. 165.
6°
Campbell, Honour, Family and Patronage, 31: 'women and goats are conceptually
opposed to men and sheep'.
61 On the four taktika, see N. Oikonomides, Les listes de preseance byzantines des IXe et Xe
siecles, Le monde byzantin (Paris, 1972).
' See L. Leontidou and A. Afouxenidis, 'Boundaries of social exclusion in Europe', in
R. Hudson and A.M. Williams, eds, Divided Europe (London, 1998), 255-268, and the work
of the Centre for Analysis of Social Exclusion, LSE, London. I am grateful to Graham
McFarlane and (through him) Piero Vereni for advice here.
Torcello: west wall, see Glory of Byzantium, 437.
See G. Prinzing, 'Zu den Minderheiten in der Maander-Region wahrend der
Ubergangsepoche von der byzantinischen zur seldschukisch-tiirkischen Herrschaft (11. Jh.-
Anfang 14. Jh.)' in P. Herz and J. Kobes, eds, Ethnische and religiose Minderheiten in
Kleinasien. Von der hellenistischen Antike bis in das byzantinische Mittelalter, Mainzer
Veroffentlichungen zur Byzantinistik 2 (Wiesbaden, 1998), 153-177, for the 'minorities'
approach.
65
John Moschos, Pratum spirituale, ch. 44, PG, 87.3, col. 2900A.
12 MARGARET MULLETT
But models of exteriority also exist. Wherever there are walls,

someone is outside them, in the wilderness.' The Long Wall in Thrace
said to approaching barbarians, 'you're not inside yet'. City walls said to
country-dwellers, 'this is what civilization is all about'. And monastery
walls mark off what may be more an alternative society than a
Kazhdanian microcosm of the world outside. St Basil said,
There is but one escape from all this: separation from the world
altogether. But withdrawal from the world does not mean bodily
removal from it, but the severance of the soul from sympathy with
the body and the giving up of city, home, personal possessions,
love of friends, property, means of subsistence, business, social
relations and knowledge derived from human teaching, and it also
means the readiness to receive in one's heart the impressions
engendered there by divine instruction.67
And typika suggest that what is envisaged by founders - in their

prescriptive dreams - is a small enclosed community where the ways of
the world do not prevail, and the laws of the state are less real than
instructions over frequency of bathing or fasting on a feast-day in Lent.`
Human relationships undergo a kind of atrophy inside a monastery: the
complex bonds necessary for survival in outside life (of consanguines and
affines, ritual kin and spiritual kin, patrons, clients and friends, lords and
servants 9) form a threat to the simple society of a monastic community,
See below Sevdenko, 75-86, for a neatly reversed model in which the outsider
ascetic
strays into the insider world of the wilderness of the beasts.
L' Basil, ep. 2, ed. and tr. R.J. Deferrari,
The Letters of St Basil (Cambridge, MA, and
London, 1961), I, 10-11.
°
See the forthcoming J.P. Thomas and A.C. Hero, eds, Byzantine Monastic Foundation
Documents, 4 vols, DOS 35 (Washington, DC, 2000). See www.doaks.org/typ000.html
for
electronic pre-publication.
On various personal relations in Byzantine society see for ritual kinship, R.
Macrides, 'The Byzantine god-father, BMGS 11 (1987), 139-162; fictive kinship,
'Kinship by
arrangement: the case of adoption', DOP 44 (1990), 109-118; spiritual kinship, R. Morris,
'The political saint in the tenth and eleventh centuries', Vortrage and Forschungen, 42 (1993),
385-402 and H.J.M. Turner, St Symeon the New Theologian and spiritual fatherhood,
Byzantina
neerlandica 11 (Leiden and New York, 1990), 109-118; personal patronage, M.E. Mullett,
'Patronage in action: the problems of an eleventh-century bishop', in R. Morris, ed., Church
and People in Byzantium (Birmingham, 1990), 125-147; friendship, M.E.
Mullett, 'Byzantium:
a friendly society?', P&P 118 (1987), 3-24, P. Hatlie, 'Friendship, politics and other
disappointments during the Byzantine Iconoclast age' and M.E. Mullett, 'Friendship in
Byzantium: genre, topos and network', both in J. Haseldine, ed., Friendship in Medieval
Europe (Thrupp, 1999), 137-152; 166-184. For erotic relations see L. James, ed., Desire and
where hegoumenos and office-holders, novices and tonsured, spiritual

father and spiritual son, are the small differentiations in a community
where each member has taken on a new identity with a monastic name-70
Only occasionally do marks of rank or kinship from the world outside
impress themselves upon the community, or special friendships threaten
the smooth running of this simpler cosmos - there is (with very few
exceptions) no Byzantine equivalent to the spiritual friendship of the
twelfth-century monastic West: spiritual love in Byzantium was directed
from the Christian to God alone." The social life of monasteries may
sometimes be sensed in episodes of a saint's life, like Theodora of
Thessalonike or Lazaros of Galesion,' but only Dirk Krausmuller has
managed to exploit the shadowy catechetical sources to show the pecking
order of diakoniai and megaloschemai, of the offices and ranks of the
counter-culture.73 Even the idea of community has its limitations in
Byzantium: a sense of belonging was discouraged in Byzantine
monasteries, and saints regularly are seen to move on when they become
too much at home or too much loved by the abbot." The best recent book
on monasticism has been described by its most intelligent reviewer as 'an
outsider's view':75 perhaps this is what is needed, an outsider's view of
professional, though perhaps not always high-achieving, outsiders.
Yet what also comes over from these prescriptive texts is the ability of
the founder or patron in little ways to overturn norms, to step out of the
Denial in Byzantium, SPBS 7 (Aldershot, 1999). I hope soon to publish a (long-maturing)

study of the detection of relationship in eleventh- and twelfth-century rhetorical texts.
70 On monastic names see my introduction to M. Mullett and A. Kirby, eds, Work and
Worship at the Theotokos Evergetis, BBTT 6.2 (Belfast, 1998), 1-20, esp. 10-17; on the
importance of naming, see R.A. Alford, Naming and Identihy: a Cross-Cultural Study of
Naming Practices (New Haven, 1987).
77 I intend to devote a separate study to this complex problem, but see M. Mullett,
'From Byzantium, with love', Desire and Denial, 1-22; 'Friendship in Byzantium', Friendship
in Medieval Europe, 166-184.
' For Theodora see A.-M. Talbot, Holy Women of Byzantium: Ten Saints' Lives in English
Translation, Byzantine Saints' Lives in Translation 1 (Washington, DC, 1996), 159-237; for
Lazaros see the forthcoming volume by Richard Greenfield in the same series.
See D. Krausmuller, 'The monastic communities of Stoudios and St Mamas in the
second half of the tenth century', in M. Mullett and A. Kirby, eds, The Theotokos Evergetis
and Eleventh-Century Monasticism, BBTT 6.1 (Belfast, 1994), 67-85.
74 For example, Bios kai politeia kai merike thaumaton diegesis tou hagiou kai thaumatourgou
Nikonos myroblytou ton Metanoeite, 12-15, ed. D.F. Sullivan, The Life of St Nikon, Archbishop
lakovos Library of Ecclesiastical and Historical Sources 14 (Brookline, MA, 1987), 58-66.
75 R. Morris, Monks and Laymen in Byzantium 843-1118 (Cambridge, 1995), review J.
Munitiz, JHS 117 (1997), 268.
14 MARGARET MULLETT
frame, to impress an individual stamp on a group of like-minded people.

All patrons can buy this ability: the portraits of Theodore and Elene
Gabras in St Petersburg State Library ms 291 show it very clearly.76 But
also Nancy evicenko has shown us how kicking over the traces on
occasion, stepping over the bounds like the movie-star in The Purple Rose
of Cairo, is something the most saintly of Byzantines could do.77 Why the
Gabrades have shown us themselves in no-nonsense 'warts & all' mode,
the kind of provincial archontes we would otherwise have had to invent, is
a question for the art historian as well as the historian. Why they showed
themselves outside the frame (while taking full advantage of the spiritual
intercession and support represented inside the frame) may be another
order of question, and its answer, self-assertion combined with their wish
to be both in and out of the text, goes to the heart of the concerns of this
volume. For similar opportunities not to conform are limited in
Byzantium: angry young men do not press upon our consciousness:
Ptochoprodromos in his various personae must come as close as we can
get; Robin Hood would not have stood much of a chance where emperors
in ideology (and in crusader representation at least78) were the primary
protectors of the poor and oppressed.79 Even emperors had little scope for
manoeuvre, when expectations of their role and behaviour were recalled
to them frequently in imperial rhetoric and in parainesis,8° and when day
after day was taken up with mind-crippling ceremony. Transgression has
been seen in the ability of imperial women to step over the gender lines -
or gendered codes of sexual morality, in the amiable lunacy of holy fools,
and hesychasts vis-a-vis coenobitic communities.8' But examples in the
literature are thin and the methodology underdeveloped.82
76 Fols 2v and 3r, see A. Cutler and J.-M. Spieser, Byzance medievale, 700-1204 (Paris,
1996), 328-329, pls 258-259.
'7 N. eveenko, 'Contact between holy figures and the faithful as represented in
Byzantine works of art', in A. Guillou and J. Durand, eds, Byzance et les images (Paris, 1994),
255-285.
7B For example on the cover of the Melisende psalter; see H.C. Evans and W.D.
Wixom, eds, The Glory of Byzantium (New York, 1997), 388.
'° R. Morris, 'The powerful and the poor in tenth-century Byzantium', P&P 73 (1976),
3-27.
°° On the difference see M. Mullett, 'The imperial vocabulary of Alexios I Komnenos',
Alexios I Komnenos, 1, 379-384.
81 See for example C. Barber, 'The imperial panels at San Vitale: a reconsideration',
BMGS 14 (1990), 19-42; D. Krueger, Symeon the Holy Fool: Leontius's Life and
the late antique
city, The Transformation of the Classical Heritage 25 (Berkeley, 1996), ch. 4, 57-71.
62
L. Garland ed., Conformity and non-conformity in Byzantium. Papers given at the eighth
conference of the Australian Association for Byzantine Studies, ByzForsch, 24 (Amsterdam, 1997)
Were things different, far from the omphalos of the oikoitmene? Are
there provincial values in Byzantium, if we can escape from the tadpole
model of Byzantium, with a very big head and a very small tail? 83 Victor
Turner would persuade us on the other hand that liminality is the crucial
space, and Fredrick Barth that frontiers are where identities are forged,
because there they are tested against others.86 We should look to frontier
society - if we can find it! The Corinth plate85 may not be Digenes, but
then Digenes may not be truly a borderer, at least a borderer of the
historic Byzantine frontier with the Arabs, but an exile or a representative
of the wrong border, in southern Italy.86
If opportunities for non-conformity were slight, opportunities for
responding to it were manifold, and labelling is only one way. The Other
may be confronted, and not just in war: in the eleventh and twelfth
centuries, the largest single body of writing comes under the heading of
religious polemic; the same must be true of the seventh. Set-piece
disputations seem to be part of the life of the court, with theologians on
hand to keep the empire's end up.87 Reference to missionary activity is
sparse; when it does appear, it is in the guise of disputations, as much as
in the fruit of evangelism, baptism. Polemic eloquence is pictorial as well
as verbal.88 Or the Other can simply be left out, ignored, as happens to
Jews in Byzantine historical narratives. We know that there was a
flourishing community of Jews in Kastoria in the eleventh and twelfth
does not advance the subject beyond H.G. Beck, 'Formes de non-conformisme A Byzance',
Bulletin de l'Academie Belge, ser. 5, 65 (1979), 313-329; there is no introduction, and of the
contributors, only D. Smythe, 'Outsiders by taxis: perceptions of non-conformity in
eleventh- and twelfth-century literature', 229-249, addresses the theoretical and
methodological issues.
83
See P. Magdalino, below, 149-150, for the New Yorker's view of the world.
V. Turner, The Forest of Symbols: Aspects of Ndenbu Ritual (Ithaca, 1967),93-111 and F.
Barth, Ethnic Groups and Boundaries: the Social Organisation of Culture Difference (London,
1969), esp. 15-16; 122-134.
85
See Glory, 254.
ab
E. Jeffreys, 'The Grottaferrata version of Digenes Akrites', in R. Beaton and D. Ricks,
eds, Digenes Akrites: New Approaches to Byzantine Heroic Poetry, KCL 2 (Aldershot, 1993), 26-
37; see also her new edition, Digenis Akritis: the Grottaferrata and Escorial Versions,
Cambridge Medieval Classics 7 (Cambridge, 1998).
87 See A. Cameron, 'Texts as weapons: polemic in the Byzantine dark ages', in A.K.
Bowman and G. Woolf, eds, Literacy and Power in the Ancient World (Cambridge, 1994),198-
215.
as
K. Corrigan, Visual Polemics in the Ninth-Century Byzantine Psalters (Cambridge,
1992); J.C. Anderson, 'Marginality in the ninth-century Byzantine psalters', written for E.
Schwartz, ed., Encountering the Other (forthcoming, now to appear in a Festschrift).
16 MARGARET MULLETT
centuries: Ann Epstein has tried to interpret some of the paintings of the
Mauriotissa there in this light; Anna Komnene spends a great deal of her
narrative around Kastoria with the Normans - yet notoriously she refers
to Jews only three times. As Nicholas de Lange puts it, 'the presence of
Jews in Byzantium has been overlooked', a modest expression of this
kind of religious and cultural exclusion.89 The Other can be written out in
more subtle ways: Nicholas Kataskepenos in his life of Cyril Phileotes
very cleverly avoids embarrassment for his readership in his handling of
a typology of Elijah and the behaviour of the Komnenian imperial
women. Far from the managing geniuses, termagants and assertive wives
of Zonaras and Choniates, these women do not rant over the deathbed of
their husbands or push their men scornfully into rebellion; they are seen
feeding the sick saint by hand with a cup, or addressing him only in the
characteristic words of the Apophthegmata patrum: father, give me a
word.90 They behave in fact more like the only one of their number who
made it to the Synaxarion of Constantinople, the Hungarian Piroska-
Eirene-Xene.9' Otherwise the Other can be investigated and tracked
down, in the ethnographies of Agathias and Constantine Porphyrogen-
netos, or appropriated as in Tzetzes's glorious boast of ancestry.92 We
engage with them on this literary level, but with how many of them?
How badly skewed is our view of Byzantine society by our dependence
99
Anna Komnene, Al., VI.v.10, ed. Leib, II, 54 (skala of Jews in Constantinople); Al.,
V11.iii.4, ed. Leib, II, 96 (Zedekiah last of the dynasty); Al., xl.vi.9, ed. Leib, III, 32 (First
Crusaders kill Jews and Muslims); none of these is relevant to Jewish communities in the
Byzantine Empire, for which we must consult Benjamin of Tudela, ed. and tr. M.N. Adler,
The Itinerary of Benjamin of Tudela (London, 1907); A. Epstein, 'Frescoes of the Mauriotissa
monastery near Kastoria: evidence of millenarianism and anti-semitism in the wake of the
first crusade', Gesta 21 (1982), 21-29, though it does not completely convince, amply reveals
the historians' deficiency; on the implications see below, N. de Lange, 105-118.
90 See B.N. Hill, 'Alexios I Komnenos and the imperial women', in Mullett and Smythe
eds, Alexios I Komnenos, I, 37-54 for the stereotype; M.E. Mullett, Death of a Genre,
forthcoming, for the spin.
9'
For Eirene, see Synaxarion of Constantinople, AASS, Nov.Prop. (Brussels, 1902), cols
887-890; G. Moravcsik, Die Tochter Ladislaus des Heiligen and das Pantokrator-Kloster in
Konstantinopel (Budapest and Constantinople, 1923); M. Mathieu, 'Irene de Hongrie', B 23
(1953), 140-142; M. 2ivojinovi8, 'Le prologue slave de la vie de l'imperatrice Irene', ZbRad 8
(1964), 483-492.
92 For example Agathias, Historiai, 11.23-31, ed. R. Keydell, Agathiae Myrinaei
historiarum libri quinque, CFHB 2 (Berlin, 1967), 56-67; Constantine Porphyrogennetos,
Excerpta de legationibus, see J. Shepard and D. Lee, 'A double life: placing the Peri presbeon',
BS 52 (1991), 15-39; for Tzetzes, see P. Gautier, 'La curieuse ascendance de Jean Tzetzes',
REB 28 (1970), 207-220.
on a written record? Who owned it,93 and how fictional was the most
apparently sober account?94 Even pictorial narrative rarely stands alone,
so much that the lack of an inscription can be in itself, like something left
out of an encomium, more important than what is included. Two cases
are the narthex panel in Hagia Sophia and the Vatican 666 portraits of
Alexios I where the Fathers are named but he is not (the author is simply
left out).95 Some have tried to detect literacy levels by checking spellings
in original documents on the assumption that the Byzantines were
particularly finicky about orthography. But were they? Inscriptions on
highly precious works of art suggest another story.96 I mentioned earlier
the sad tale of patriarch Tryphon who excluded himself from office by his
illiteracy - but when reading is pictured as sitting on a high throne and
listening to a monk who stands and reads from a lectern,97 and writing as
a flow diagram from the inspiring Holy Ghost through the dictating St
John to the penning Prochoros,98 we surely have to ask who is excluded
from the experience on these grounds - and reconsider our interpretation
of the significance of literacy skills in Byzantine society.
On occasion we indeed persuade ourselves that Byzantium was far
from a persecuting society,99 that heresy is all relative and it would be so
easy to err a little too much on the other side,100 that settled people and
nomads can occupy the same territory (and with the second even
welcomed by the first),"' that lepers are provided with spacious and
See below, J. Baun, 47-60.

See below, R. Beaton, 179-188 for a consideration of Bakhtin's adventure-time.
95
See discussions in R. Cormack, 'Interpreting the mosaics of S. Sophia at Istanbul',
Art Histonj 4 (1981), 139; P. Magdalino and R. Nelson, 'The emperor in Byzantine art of the
twelfth century', ByzForsch 8 (1982), 124-126.
96
J. Waring, 'Byzantine monastic libraries in the eleventh and twelfth centuries'
(Unpublished PhD thesis, Belfast, 1998), 24-25.
Paris homilies of John Chrysostom, fol. 1(2bis)r, the monk Sabas; see Glony, 82.
99
Dionysiou 588, fol. 225v; see Treasures of Mount Athos (Thessalonike, 1997), 199.
99 See R.I. Moore, The Formation of a Persecuting Society (Oxford, 1987).
'°° Certainly one explanation of the apparent surge in intellectual heresy under Alexios
is the excessive enthusiasm of the polemicists against heresy: the cases of Neilos the
Calabrian and Eustratios of Nicaea can both be read as failures in debates with the
Armenians. For the alternative view see (first) R. Browning, 'Enlightenment and repression
in Byzantium in the eleventh and twelfth centuries', P&P 69 (1975), 3-23.
S. Vryonis, 'Cultural diversity and the breakdown of Byzantine power in Asia
101
Minor', DOP 29 (1975), 1-20 and A.A.M. Bryer, 'Greeks and Tiirkmens: the Pontic
exception', ibid., 113-148; Diegesis merike, ed. P. Meyer, Die Haupturkunden fur die Geschichte
der Athoskloster (Leipzig, 1984), 163-184 at 163.
18 MARGARET MULLETT
comfortable leprosaria,102 that gypsies, the ultimate outsiders, have

unexpected defenders in pillars of court and church society,103 that there
were ways of getting away with murder in twelfth-century
Constantinople.104 Yet Byzantines did castrate children105 and mutilate
rebels, if only to eliminate them from competition.106 They did whitewash
icons,107 bum books and (once)108 a Bogomil. Perhaps a major task of this
volume is to discover the limits of this postulated tolerance. We shall find
certainly many examples of petty snobbery,109 of delight in freaks of
nature, 110 of a heightened sense of the pecking order, of a highly
competitive sense of asteiotes1l which shows Alexios I Komnenos - that
man who had no time for rhetoric112 - wincing when his home team of
theologians failed to put up an adequate show against the visiting side.113
And high-handed banishment to monastery or exile when anyone

became a nuisance, in each case excluding them from the empire as
conventionally defined.114
10' A. Philipsborn, 'Hiera nosos and die Spezial-Anstalt des Pantokrator-Kranken-

hauses', B 33 (1963), 223-226; T.S. Miller, The Birth of the Hospital in the Byzantine Empire
(Baltimore, 1985) adds nothing.
'°' Nikephoros Gregoras, Romaike Historia, VIII.10, ed. L. Schopenus, CSHB (1829), 348-
349 on the virtues of gypsies. I am grateful to Karin White for pointing me in this direction.
104
R. Macrides, 'Killing, asylum and the law in Byzantium', Speculum 63 (1988), 509-
514.
1°5
See S. Tougher, 'Byzantine eunuchs: an overview with special reference to their
creation and origin', in James, ed., Women, Men and Eunuchs, 168-184, esp. 170, 175-177,
178-180.
E. Patlagean, 'Byzance et le blason penal du corps', Sodalitas 6 (Rome, 1984), 405-
426.
Or at least the Khludov psalter represents them as so doing, see Cormack, Writing in
Gold, fig. 45; fig. 39 shows in detail the alternative technique of excision and replacement.
'°' See Balsamon, Comm in Nomokanon, X.25, PG, 104, col. 1111.
'°' P. Magdalino, 'Byzantine snobbery', in M. Angold, ed., The Byzantine Aristocracy,
58-78.
10 Even of the human variety; see Madrid Bib.Nac.vitr.26-2, fol. 131 b, c, ed. Grabar
and Manoussacas, figs 159-160 for the Siamese twins.
11 P. Magdalino, 'In search of the Byzantine courtier', in H. Maguire, ed., Byzantine
Court Culture from 829 to 1204 (Washington, DC, 1997),141-165 at 145-146.
"Z See even as recently as M. Angold, 'Alexios I Komnenos: an afterword', Alexios I
Komnenos, I, 416.
"' A. Amelli, 'Due sermoni inedite di Pietro Grosolano, archivescovo di Milano', Fortes
Ambrosiani 4 (1933), 35f.; H. Bloch, 'Monte Cassino, Byzantium and the west in the earlier
Middle Ages', DOP 4 (1946), 163-224 at 224.
"' For monasteries as prisons and exile-places see J.M. Hussey, 'Byzantine
monasticism', CMH, IV.ii (Cambridge, 1967), 161-184; E. Evert-Kappesowa, 'L'archipel de
Marmara comme lieu d'exile', ByzForsch 5 (1977), 23-34.
How Byzantines - any Byzantines - defined themselves is another

matter, and there is so much more work to do here. This issue of identity
has followed us from Bryer's Wiles lectures through the St Andrews and
Australian considerations of the ancient past in Byzantine consciousness,
to Copenhagen."-' It surfaces in two recent modem Greek conferences on
Macedonian cultural identity, and in the King's meeting on Byzantium in
modem Greek identity."' Paul Magdalino long ago pointed us to the
Menandrian categories of patris and genos, and the modem Greek
categories of honour and shame;117 Bryer makes us rethink the boundaries
between religious identity, language and ethnicity.1' Individuals must
seldom - except in the pages of Gregory Dialogos - have been given the
opportunity to step outside their bodies and examine their 'self ,19 though
the important work being done now in various centres on dreams and
visions will allow us to step back ourselves from preconceived concepts
of the self in Byzantium.12° Issues of gender and orientation follow; Liz
James's book demonstrated firmly that gender in Byzantium is still an
issue, and suggested that there were only two of them;'.' and we may
15 P. Magdalino, ed., The Perception of the Past in Twelfth-Century Europe (London, 1992);
G. Clarke with B. Croke, R. Mortley and A. Emmett Nobbs, eds, Reading the Past in Late
Antiquity (Canberra, 1990); K. Fledelius and P. Schreiner, eds, Byzantium: Identity, Image,
Influence. XIX International Congress of Byzantine Studies, 2 vols (Copenhagen, 1995).
16 P. Mackridge and E. Yannakakis, eds, Ourselves and Others: the Development of a Greek
Macedonian Cultural Identity since 1912 (Oxford and New York, 1997); J. Burke and R. Scott
eds, Byzantine Macedonia, ByzAus (Melbourne, forthcoming); D. Ricks and P. Magdalino
eds, Byzantium and the Modern Greek Identity, KCL 4 (Aldershot, 1998).
P. Magdalino, 'Honour among Romaioi: the framework of social values in the world
117
of Digenes Akrites and Kekaumenos', BMGS 13 (1989),183-218.

1B A.A.M. Bryer, 'The Crypto-Christians of the Pontos and Consul William Gifford
Palgrave of Trebizond', Deltio Kentrou Mikrasiatikon Spoudon (Athens, 1983), 13-68; 363-365.
"' For example Greg.Dial., 1.12.2, ed. A. de Vogue, tr. P. Antin, SC 260 (Paris, 1979), II,
114.
1' Work on Byzantine dreams and visions, slow off the mark compared with recent
work on classical and late antique dreams, was encouraged by the classic article of G.
Dagron, 'Rever de Dieu et parler de soi. Le reve et son interpretation d'apres les sources
byzantines', in T. Gregory, ed., I sogni net medioevo, Lessico Intelletuale Europeo 35 (Rome,
1985), 37-55, and by the patient labours of Steven Oberhelman; the volume D.I. Kyrtatas,
ed., long ivvnvfov (Heraklion, 1993) includes Byzantine material. Work is currently under
way in Minnesota, in London with Charles Stewart, in Cambridge and Nijmegen with
Robin Cormack and an Anglo-Dutch seminar, Birmingham with the work of George
Calofonos and Belfast with the doctoral work of Margaret Kenny.
121
James, ed., Women, Men and Eunuchs; for the two genders, see S. Tougher, 168-184
contra K. Ringrose, 'Living in the shadows: eunuchs and gender in Byzantium', in G.
Herdt, ed., Third Sex, Third Gender (New York, 1994), 85-109.
20 MARGARET MULLETT
after the 1998 New York conference on the Queer Middle Ages be less
inclined to follow Foucault and Halperin rather than Richlin and Brooten
on issues of sexual identity in pre-modern societies.' We should try to
look at self-consciousness, in Cohen's sense, and at Kazhdan's postulated
development of individualism in the wake of the vogue for
autobiography in the middle Byzantine period. Yet autobiography has its
own special traps: the ins and outs of the copying and appropriation of
text in Byzantium could lead to the mindless plagiarism of
autobiographical material and the original contribution of timeless
truths.' Once we can reach the individual, we must look beyond: role
relations enable individuals to locate themselves in a limited way within
a community, and we must continue to collect scrupulously every
example of how Byzantines defined themselves in relation to others,
without which we cannot hope to understand any of these relationships,
which form the spokes reaching out from the individual to the
circumference of society.
' The greatest single contribution of M. Foucault, History of Sexuality, 3 vols was to
present the concept of homosexuality as a modem construct; D. Halperin in One Hundred
Years of Homosexuality (New York, 1990) developed this idea, showing the great gulf
between ancient and twentieth-century attitudes, and joined other classicists, for example J.
Winkler, The Constraints of Desire (New York, 1990); D. Halperin, J.J. Winkler and F. Zeitlin,
Before Sexuality: the Constructon of Erotic Experience in Ancient Greece (Princeton, NJ, 1989), to
characterize ancient sexuality more in terms of active/passive, penetrator/penetrated than
erotic orientation towards the same or the opposite sex, the act rather than the person or
the concept. A. Richlin, 'Not before homosexuality: the materiality of the cinaedus and the
Roman law against love between men', Journal of the History of Sexuality 3.4 (1993), 523-573
and B.J. Brooten, Love between Women: Early Christian Responses to Female Homoeroticisnt
(Chicago, 1996) have both highlighted the limitations of this approach, Richlin by
concentrating on the existence of a recognizable homosexual type (the male penetrated by
choice), Brooten by showing that the concept of orientation was used in ancient
astronomical literature. This revisionism is still a long way, however, from the confident
approach of J. Boswell, Christianity, Tolerance and Social Welfare: Gay People in Western Europe
from the Beginning of the Christian Era to the Fourteenth Century (Chicago, 1980). See James,
ed., Desire and Denial for fuller treatment of these issues, esp. papers by D. Smythe, S.
Tougher and M. Mullett.
'.. For the rise of the individual see A. Kazhdan and A.W. Epstein, Change in Byzantine
Culture in the Eleventh and Twelfth Centuries, Transformation of the Classical Heritage 7
(Berkeley, 1985), 197f.; for a survey of Byzantine autobiography see M. Angold, 'The
autobiographical impulse in Byzantium', DOP 52 (1998), 225-257; for an example of
religious autobiography, J. McGuckin, 'The luminous vision in eleventh-century
Byzantium: interpreting the biblical and theological paradigms of St Symeon the New
Theologian', Work and Worship at the Theotokos Evergetis, BBTT 6.2 (Belfast, 1998), 90-123; for
autobiography and letters, Mullett, Theophylact, 281-288. See below R. Jordan, 61-73, for the
Phoberou typikon's rather surprising borrowing patterns.
This chapter has played with concepts of the Outsider and the Other,
of minorities and marginalization, of identity and community, of
conformity, dissidence and deviance, conversion and assimilation, of
liminality and bordering, of ethnicity, gender, heterodoxy and taxis, of
social exclusion and of alternative societies. It has touched on certain
polarities: capital and province, centre and margin, norm and divergence,
legal and illegal, heresy and orthodoxy, the settled and the nomad, the
city and the desert, the civilized world and the wilderness, virtue and
vice, literacy and illiteracy. But it has left unexplained so far the
symposium title: 'Strangers to themselves'. This title clearly
acknowledges the influential work of Julia Kristeva,124 in which she looks
at the history of foreignness in Europe, bringing with her the sense of
being as it were an immigrant in the midst of post-structuralist Paris, as
Theophylact would put it, a metropolitan, and, strange to say, a
The phrase finds a curious echo in Theophylact's near
Bulgarian.125
contemporary and Maria's foster-daughter and Michael's potential

daughter-in-law, Anna Komnene. When she describes at the very end of
the Alexiad the effect on her of the death of Nikephoros Bryennios, she
says
I plunged into an ocean of despair; finally, only one thing irked me

- that my soul still lingered on in my body. It seems to me that if I
had not been made of steel, or fashioned in some other hard, tough
substance, a stranger to myself, I would have perished at once. But
living I died a thousand deaths.126
L'etranger, the stranger, the foreigner, has a particular resonance in

Byzantium, for whatever identity anyone assumed, the identity of a xenos
was common to all. All Byzantines were exiles from Paradise and might
hope to return there at the end of the world, but until then, 'say always
that you are a xenos'.127 Julia Kristeva does in fact touch on this issue, that
we are all foreigners and that the foreigner is within us. What is most
fearful to us in the stranger may be the very quality we do not want to
124
J. Kristeva, Strangers a nous-inemes (Paris, 1988), tr. L.S. Roudiez, Strangers to
Ourselves (New York, 1991).
125
Cf. Theophylact, ep.G4, to Maria, ed. P. Gautier, Theophylacte d'Achride, II, Lettres,
CFHB 16.2 (Thessalonike, 1986),41.58-60.
126
Anna, Al., XV.xi.22, ed. Leib, 242, S, 514: Kai et µt iu5 eotxsv, Uagav2ivrj is fjv tl
aXXr1g titvd5 cpvaem5 8ta7<Xaat5 ... xai l evit;ovaa, x&v 6t7tm?L6g1jv eb8vS ...
327 A saying of abba Olympios, Moschos, Pratum spirituale, ch. 12, PG, 87.3, col. 2861B;
see below, J. McGuckin, 23-38.
22 MARGARET MULLETT
recognize in ourselves. Only by recognizing this, that the barbarians are

within, can we guard against racism and xenophobia.12' This is not a
matter of the barbarians being 'some kind of a solution', or indeed of
'inventing the barbarian' as an aid in self-definition, or an ironic reversal
of verities as a rhetorical strategy.i29 It is something that would have been
instantly recognized in twelfth-century Byzantium, where complaints
about barbaric surroundings were the perquisite of senior churchmen
vying with one another in a recognizable exile discourse to make the most
attractive of sees sound like the back of beyond. Michael Choniates
capped them all by being able to quote Euripides, Orestes 485 straight: 'I
have become a barbarian here for so long in Athens'. This fear of literary
infelicity, of agroikia, is shared by the civil servants who plead - more
feebly - pressure of work, not the monstrous accompaniments of
episcopacy: 'the Harpies overturn my books'.130 This fear of alterity, that it
is within, is what Anna in her grief and disappointment was also trying
to express, and what we should keep in mind through all the papers of
this volume: that we are strangers to ourselves and so to the Byzantines
we study.
'29
Kristeva, Strangers, esp. 191-195.
C.P. Cavafy, IIeptµevovcas 'cov5 (iap(3&povc ed. G.P. Savvides, K.P. Kabaphe, Poiemata,
129
I, 1896-1918 (Athens, 1963), 107-108; E. Hall, Inventing the Barbarian: Greek Self-Definition
through Tragedy (Oxford, 1989).
10 Michael Choniates, ep. 28, ed. S. Lampros, MLxa42 Arcoltcvarov rov Xwvzatou r&
2 vols (Athens, 1879-80), 44; Theophylact, ep. 29, ed. P. Gautier, Theophylacte
d'Achrida: Lettres, CFHB 16/2 (Thessalonike, 1986), 225; M.E. Mullett, 'Originality in the
Byzantine letter; the case of exile', in Littlewood, ed., Originality, 39-58 for the twelfth-
century imagery; Mullett, Theophylact, 274-276 for the overall attitude to exile and the
Other.
2. Aliens and Citizens of Elsewhere:
Xeniteia in East Christian Monastic Literature
John McGuckin
How intriguing it is, when one looks at the religious literature, to find the
Christian Greeks developing the same concept that has elicited the
interest of us post-modems for our conference topic on the 'Outsider', or
the notion of being 'Aliens to themselves'. Not only had the Byzantines
considered it, but from an early stage had taken it to a pitch beyond
anything comparable in the prior Greco-Roman philosophical or
rhetorical tradition, before subjecting it to several variations around a
central theme, and rendering it, finally, as a stock theme of all later
monastic literature. Such an apotheosis is reflected in the way the notion
achieves the status of a chapter to itself in that veritable manual of
Byzantine ascetical theology, John of Sinai's Sacred Ladder. Xeniteia, that
state of being foreign or other, even in one's own locality, what we could
best describe as the position of living unattached, as a stranger would in
that antique time and social condition, or the more interesting analogous
(and highly paradoxical) inner state of being distant even to one's
intimate self, that reflects upon itself in an exaggerated solitude - if not a
uniquely Byzantine theme, is certainly taken to a uniquely specific peak
in this literature.
Xeniteia is clearly a regularly used, and seemingly important, concept
in early Christian monastic texts, especially those of the Egyptian desert
tradition. It has often been rendered in the secondary literature as 'exile',
which, in other linguistic contexts, it could possibly connote; but the use
of this translation 'exile' occludes certain key aspects of a fuller
appreciation of what is going on when the monastic writers apply the
term to the burgeoning forms of ascesis near the Nile: first that the concept
of exile, per se, is very much a minor aspect of a more complex set of
23
24 JOHN MCGUCKIN
associations; and second, that the technical term for exile' is almost
entirely absent from the Christian literature.
Doubtless those who adopted the ascetic lifestyle and came to reflect
so intently upon the nexus of related ideas were hardly the sort who
could even hope to attract the dubious distinction of a sentence of exile in
the normal order of affairs. They were, in the main,' people who lived
beneath that kind of legal radar. The standard and perfectly respectable
words for exile were exoria (the banishment of, usually, political
prisoners) or periorismos (confinement or house arrest). Periorismos
brought benefits to the state if applied as a preliminary to exoria, for
under the terms of confinement the offender's property was confiscated,
whereas in the case of the banishment of exoria, the condemned retained
rights to domestic property.*' The only recorded case I could find of a true
legal exile being interpreted in the spiritualizing monastic-ascetic sense
was the odd reference in the much later Life of St. Theodora of Arta. This
Vita is unusual in several respects, not least because it may be the only
record of a female Byzantine saint from the whole of the thirteenth
century. Here the application is far from straightforward. The tradition is
so late, and so clearly dominated by traditional Byzantine monastic topoi,
that the (real) exoria suffered by Theodora is transmuted into a spiritual
xeniteia by the hagiographer. Theodora's husband, Michael II Komnenos
Doukas, regnant at Epiros between 1231 and 1267-68, was (we are told)
bewitched and seduced by an aristocratic 'sorceress' at court' and so
drove away his legitimate wife penniless.' The rare motif is appropriate
for the equally rare example of a royal female hagiography, but indicates
how the rhetorical tradition has, by this period, turned full circle. Driven
out in exoria, Theodora transforms it into the xeniteia of the (more
standard) ascetical heroine. Like one of the most famous of the female
' Precisely, that is, a legal punishment imposed on a citizen in the polis-dominated
society of Late Antiquity before the barbarian invasions.
2
Evagrios is an obvious exception: and one needs to keep in mind that many of the
commentators on this lifestyle (such as Palladios at Constantinople) were indeed city-based
citizens to whom physical exile from the city was a regularly witnessed event.
' Symeon the New Theologian received both sentences from Basil II in the early
eleventh century. His hagiographer Nicetas Stethatos softened the scandal by describing
the periorismos as the saint's retreat into hesychia - evidently once one was socially elevated
enough to attract a real exile, the term was thought too controversial to apply in a
spiritually symbolic sense.
Charmingly designated by the hagiographer as 'gangrene'.
5 A.M. Talbot, ed., Holy Women of Byzantium (Washington, DC, 1996), 331-332.
XENITEIA IN MONASTIC LITERATURE 25
penitents,6 living off wild herbs and wandering in the wilderness, she
achieves sanctification and even excels the ancients, for her suffering was
innocent. It is clear that one had to excel (or be made to seem to, by a
good hagiographer) purely in terms of monastic celibate canons, to make
the grade in the honours of the church in the thirteenth century.
In earlier Christian times, however, when the legal punishment of
exile was really, properly, and harshly applied to prominent believers
(such as under the terms of the Diocletianic suppression of the third
century), then the memory was a bitter one. Certainly no one then
thought it a fit subject for spiritual allegorization. The Roman Church had
no second thoughts about how to regard its Papas when he was exiled
from his see by imperial prescript: though a confessor for the faith,
another must be elected to his place as the true successor, for an exile was
unable to head a corporation under the terms of the law, and such an
incapacity rendered the episcopal function void.'
There is little surviving papyrological or archaeological data from this
period precisely on this subject but what there is, again, makes no
8
symbolic glorification or allegorization of the exile proper. The status of

Confessor was accorded (like that of the Lapsi) only in the aftermath of
the suppression of churches, as part of the Christian efforts at social and
disciplinary reconstruction.
In Antiquity, exile was a fearful punishment; the thought of leaving
home a frightening prospect. The British Church's early penitential
canons continued the self-same antique attitude into the seventh century
and beyond. The Penitentials of Theodore (1.2.16) and Egbert (para.3)9 set
exile as the penalty for the worst of 'uncontainable' crimes: parricide,
6
The hagiographer is obviously trying his hardest to evoke the totally non-apposite
Life of St Mary of Egypt, and use Theodora's sufferings as her causa sanctitatis.
' For this reason Diocletian favoured the penalty after 303.
8 There is an allusion to a third-century 'possibly-Christian' woman sent into exile
from Alexandria, found in a papyrus cache at the Great Oasis in Egypt, in 1890. Compare
Grenfell Hunt, Greek Papyri II (Oxford, 1897); cf. text and discussion in: Dictionnaire
d'Archeologie Chretienne et de Liturgie (henceforth DACL), vol. 4.1 (Paris, 1920), col. 663. It is,
however, a confusing instance, and modem commentators take it to be a reference to a
mummy rather than to a real person: cf. A. Lukaszewicz, Journal of Juristic Papyrology 28
(1998), 85-94; and S. Llewelyn and A. Nobbs, Akten des 21 Int. Papyrologenkongress (Berlin,
1997), 613-630.
9 Compare H. Leclercq. DACL 1 (Paris, 1922), col. 963: 'exilium'. See also A.
Guillaumont, 'Le depaysement comme forme d'ascese dans le monachisme ancien',
Annuaire de 1'Ecole pratique des hautes etudes. Vieme section: Sciences Religieuses 76 (1968-1969),
31-58.
26 JOHN MCGUCKIN
incest and clerical adultery. We may recall, for example, that

Columbanus's great missionary endeavours came about as the result of
his ascesis of exile, though it was a sentence he received initially qua
penitent for the blood he had shed. Nowhere, then, while exile was still a
real legal penalty that could be (or was being) faced by Christians, did
anyone choose to allegorize it spiritually.
Again, no one connects the term, or hardly so, with what might be
thought to be the 'obvious' spiritual symbols of the Exile of Israel (either
understood as the time of servitude in Egypt, or the sojourn in the desert).
This fact is noteworthy, and explicable largely on the grounds that the
supposedly close connection of the Exile of Israel to the notion of a
spiritual state of the 'Golden Age' (as hinted at but not explicated in some
prophetic texts such as Hosea) is a rather modem hermeneutic. The
Byzantine tradition was far more ready to regard the Exile as a state of
the passive captivity of the Elect People (a passivity that carried the usual
negative, not positive, allied associations); and similarly, the journey of
the exiles through the desert is almost unanimously interpreted as a
symbol of wandering and testing (usually a testing that resulted in
lamentable failures). It connoted for Byzantine interpreters how the old
era was destined to give way to the true Golden Age - the desert is left
behind for the Promised Land. The people once elect have now been
replaced by the truly elect: the Greek ethnos in a Christian imperium.
Nowhere is there the hermeneutical basis for focusing on the concept of
the Exile itself as a positive symbol."
The idea of Israel's progress through the desert as a blue-print for the
faithful Jew's advance towards true righteousness was certainly part of
Philo's philosophical re-reading of the biblical narratives, and something
that was even brought onto centre stage for Christians by Origen. His
teeming intelligence, however, did not rest content with merely one
symbolic meaning for the 'Exile of Israel', and so in many texts he
invested it with subtle Christological and ecclesiological patterns, while
in others (and the famous 27th Homily on Numbers is a case in point) the
exile's progress is developed in a Philonic manner, to become a detailed
pattern of an individual soul's progress towards deification.
'°In a Western, post-Reformation context, and increasingly in European and

American exegesis of the modern era, the Exile became used in other more positive ways as
symbolic of a time of spiritual liberation and simplicity where God 'spoke directly' to his
journeying people, and dwelt among them intimately in the tabernacle. The view appeals
to texts such as Hosea 2:14-16.
Many of the subsequent patristic writings take up this Christological

and ecclesiological hermeneutic, connecting exilic images such as the sea,
the cloud, and the manna, with the Christian sacraments of initiation; but
the spiritual allegorization of the exilic journey as some form of blue-print
for the soul's mystical advance is enthusiastically propounded only by
Origen and his most dedicated intellectual heirs: Gregory Nazianzen,
Gregory of Nyssa, Evagrios and Didymos. It is the latter part of this chain
that probably explains why such a hermeneutic has all but been scoured
from the desert monastic tradition on xeniteia, as represented in the
Apophthegmata or the Ladder of John of Sinai; we may list it as one of the
many casualties of the early fifth-century Origenist controversy.
For reasons such as these, we ought to be very careful in our English
translation. Exile is by far the most favoured rendering of xeniteia in
modern versions and commentaries on the Byzantine ascetical literature.
The recent Boston edition of John's Sacred Ladder" even has a footnote to
the effect that although the word xeniteia is an obvious synonym for
'pilgrimage', for consistency's sake the translation of 'exile' will be used
throughout. The point is, however, that it is not an obvious synonym for
anything like this at all, except to a modem mind steeped in biblicisms to
the extent that the frequent biblical pairing of stranger with sojourner
comes to mind in a creative association. Such a (fairly common theme)
appears especially in two late New Testament texts that directly allude to
xeniteia: Hebrews and 1 Peter. But once again (and it is only prima facie
surprising), this biblical tradition of xeniteia theology has next to no
bearing or impact on the way it is used in the Byzantine ascetical texts."
One is tempted, in the face of such an enigmatic concept, and certainly
under the aegis of such a theme as ours, to turn instead to a post-modem
lexicon and render xeniteia as 'alienation'. But although 75% of the United
Kingdom population, according to a recent newspaper survey, are
supposed to be currently experiencing 'metaphysical alienation' allied
with a sense of 'spiritual vacuity' in the face of the impending
millennium, we must none the less rein in our modern apocalypticism
sufficiently to note that no such sense whatsoever of the loss of
confidence in the self or ambiguity of identity is traceable in the ascetical
rhetoric surrounding xeniteia. Despite much interesting work in the last
" The Ladder of Divine Ascent. St John Climacus. Holy Transfiguration Monastery
(Boston, 1991). It is an extensive re-edition of Lazarus Moore's 1959 translation of the same.
12 There is a rare exception in the manner that xeniteia, as the pathetic state of being
'foreign', is applied in relation to Ex.2.22 in the Acts of Xanthippe, to evoke sympathy for the
infancy of Jesus spent in Egypt. But this has little, if any, impact on the larger tradition.
28 JOHN MCGUCKIN
few decades on the difficult socio-economic contexts of the system of

agricultural small-holding along the Nile valley, and their relation to the
establishment of micro-subsistent monastic hermit colonies on the one
hand or the larger cenobitic production communities on the other (such
as those of Pachomios, or Shenoudi), the monastic literature gives no
trace that I can see of xeniteia understood in the sense of 'survival
psychology.
In a recent and sensitive study Douglas Burton-Christie called
xeniteia13 'One of the most evocative terms in early Monasticism'.14
Unfortunately, that is more or less all that he had to say on the matter.
Both Peter Brown and Graham Gould have given more attention to this
term in their work on Egyptian desert monasticism. Brown noted how
much of the apophthegmatic material related to anger-limitation, and the
maintenance of good relations in the early desert literature. He argued
that this was a clear reflection of the ubiquity of tensions in the village
communities of the Nile fellahin in Late Antiquity. Brown sees the quest
for autarkeia, and what he terms 'social death',15 as a reflected aspiration of
the independent small-holders of the valley set against one another in
open competition for very limited resources. Graham Gould's later study
of the concept of desert community points out, with proper caution," how
unwise it is to push that macro-argument to become an all-embracing
social explanation for ascetic attitudes among these particular Christian
communities. There is, after all, still little evidence that Christianity was
anything like a majority consensus in this area at this time (more to
suggest that it was not), nor much to convince us that such a form of
ascetic liesychia (at least of the lavriotic and eremetical types) would
actually provide a better option for a small-holder at 'wits-end farm'.
Gould's study of the term xeniteia, a subsection of his study focused on
desert community, has noted how regularly the terms? is paired with
'silence'. The twinning of the notions, he says, 'could be converted to
serve as a shorthand for attitudes necessary as a condition of good
relationships'." Gould sees the stress of living in the difficult physical
conditions of the Nile semi-desert as requiring careful regulation of social
" Which he translates as 'exile'.

D. Burton-Christie, The Word in the Desert. Scripture and the Quest for Holiness in
Christian Monasticism (Oxford, 1993), 139.
P. Brown, The Making of Late Antiquity (Cambridge, MA, 1978), 88-89.
16 G. Gould, The Desert Fathers on Monastic Community (Oxford, 1993),185.
" He too translates it as 'exile'.
1B G. Gould, The Desert Fathers, 165.
mores; withdrawn taciturnity is seen as being able to defuse flashpoints of

dispute. His monograph works very closely with, the apophthegmatic
tradition, and concludes on the basis of the majority usages within those
sources that pair together xeniteia and 'silence' that the term xeniteia is
fundamentally one that connotes the spiritual symbol of withdrawal -
that inner passivity that marks the mind of the monk as one withdrawn
from the cares, passions and ambitions of the world. The general terms of
this analysis are surely clear and correct, but there are points, it still needs
to be noted, even in the apophthegmatic materials themselves, where
such a symbolistic reading of xeniteia is by no means applicable,19 which
have been footnoted in Gould's treatment rather than being assessed in
the main text.20 Accordingly, in two studies on the subject" he states a
clear disagreement with P. Rousseau22 who, in his study on Pachomios,
had postulated that xeniteia was probably, originally, an advice to
primitive monastics (by elders who preceded them) just to set up on their
own and go off somewhere sufficiently distant. The later monastic
tradition, particularly the forms of cenobitism favoured by the Latin
Church, certainly came to regard such 'rootlessness' with particular
horror, and listed the gyrovagi, or wandering monks, as one of the worst
forms of low-life. The later Greek tradition called such as these kabiotai
(rovers) or, when it wanted to be particularly scornful, boskoi (nomadic
grazers). But these wanderers were exactly those who had gone off from
their domicile to become xenoi, foreigners of no fixed abode. It is surely
worthy of note, then (at least as a sign of some tradition-conflict surviving
in the texts), when we find the monastic rhetorical argument urged upon
us that those who literally adopt a life as xenoi must not be accorded the
honour of having achieved monastic xeniteia.
Rousseau suggested that the later monastic cenobitic tradition had
transmuted this relatively primitive stage of wandering into something
else, effectively suppressed it by changing xeniteia into the symbol of an
inner state, in the course of monasticism's settling down as an organized
and regulated (canonical) Christian lifestyle. This argument has much to
'° See for example: Apoph. Bessarion, 1.12; Daniel 5; James 1; and The Greek Anon.
Series of Apophthegmata (no. 250). F Nau, ed., 'Histoire des solitaires egyptiens', Revue
d'Orient Chretien 12 (1907); 13 (1908); 14 (1909); 17 (1912); and 18 (1913).
20 G. Gould, The Desert Fathers, 163-165 passim.
G. Gould, The Desert Fathers, 163; and G. Gould, 'Moving On and Staying Put in the
Apophthegmata Patrum' in E.A. Livingstone, ed., Studia Patristica 22 (Leuven, 1989), 237.
u P. Rousseau, Ascetics, Authority, and the Church in the Age of Jerome and Cassian
(Oxford, 1978), 43-44 and 48-49.
30 JOHN MCGUCKIN
commend it, pace Gould's dismissal, though one needs to distance oneself
from any fixed presupposition that the progress from wandering
'monastic' life to organized ascetic-community lifestyles represented any
form of invariable institutional development either in Egypt or elsewhere.
Here Gould is surely right in questioning Rousseau's macro-theory of
monastic organization patterns, but in the later of his two studies he
seems to me to miss something of Rousseau's positive point, in so far as
he himself contains xeniteia too strictly within the notions of wandering
and solitude (as follows from his consistent reading of the term as an
inner moral attitude). In other words, I think we ought not to suppose too
readily that what was at issue in the apophthegmatic warnings about
literal xeniteia was primarily an anxiety about monks going off into
solitude prematurely. We need also to take seriously how the spread of
monastic 'lore'24 must have attracted both aspirants and monastic
'researchers'. Visitors such as Egeria, Palladius, a Basil of Caesarea or the
other varied forms of temporary non-monastic clients who came to
consult the masters in the desert colonies were one kind of intrusion. But
such literary visitors were usually aristocratic and well able to pay their
way. Even on a smaller level of patron-client relationship, the offering of
bread for services rendered to occasional visitors could offer sustenance
enough to offset the disruption experienced. On the other hand, a
seasonal increase in the population of temporary monks, who might well
be expecting to draw on the very limited annual resources of the smaller
colonies, and able to offer only their labour as a contribution, could have
disastrous effects on the ability to sustain a balanced annual economy.
To pull back a little from speculative reflection, and to consider the
term itself in the context of the whole gamut of its rhetorical
development, may help us to clarify something more of what was going
on. This literary consideration is a foundational analysis not yet
sufficiently provided in the studies. One thing is clear enough. The term
did not originate with the Christians, and despite Origen, or perhaps
because of him, it never assumed the mantle of a developed biblicism in
any of the possible routes it could have taken towards such a stature in
Christian rhetorical use - the Exile of Israel, the estrangement of the
patriarchs, the paradigms of the life of Jesus or the missionary hardships
" G. Gould, The Desert Fathers, 163-164.

24 And the apophthegmatic tradition represents this rhetorical spreading of the lore
just as much as it represents a putative early stage of monastic organization or a manual for
monks' behaviour. One could instructively compare, for example, the rhetorical telos of
Palladius's Laausiac History with that of John of Sinai's Ladder.
and endeavours of the apostles. Even though we glimpse occasional

biblical reminiscences, no hermeneutical tradition along any of these lines
is associated with the Christian application of the term xeniteia. In itself,
this is a very odd and interesting thing.
For me it is also the chief indicator to suggest that xeniteia is largely
rhetorical in its origin, that it is obviously a Greco-Roman political
concept. By Late Antiquity it had entered the stock repertoire of
philosophical aphorisms attributed to Democritus the Philosopher.25
When the first Christian writers adopt it, it is unquestionably from a large
available pool of late Stoicizing aphoristic wisdom. The writer of
Hebrews, in his resonant phrase 'Here we have no abiding politeia ,26 is
repeating, for effect, what he has just said earlier: that all human beings
are foreigners (xenoi) and passers-by on the face of the earth ' The
application in 1 Peter 2.11 amounts to exactly the same. Such is also the
usage of Clement of Alexandria,21 who describes the sojourn of all the
saints on earth as a xeniteia. The selfsame is found in the Letter To
Diognetos 5.5, in a brilliantly applied paradox that brings out the purest
form of the politico-ethical rhetorical
archetype.29
Political de-racination, therefore, is the rhetorical archetype used in

the religious literature as an image of how the thinking person (that is the
religious and moral person in a Neo-Stoic context) ought to live. A certain
detachment from the affairs of life is in order; it is needful for all. Such a
moral generalization must have had particular appeal to the early
Christian writers, especially the Diognetos author and Clement of
Alexandria, philosophically inclined moralists who were conscious of
how their religious aspirations were increasingly bringing them into
conflict with the majority society's ideas of what constituted good
citizenship.
It is, of course, this rhetorical trunk of Neo-Stoic 'detachment theory'
that continues to bud forth throughout the whole Byzantine ascetical
tradition about xeniteia, but specific and proper developments occur that
make it necessary to seek an alternative translation for the word, to go
beyond the generic sense of 'exile' or mere de-racination. For the moment
let us settle on the more bland rendering of 'expatriation' - living in the
condition of being foreign or alien among one's neighbours. Such a state
225
Fifth century BC. Compare H. Diets and W. Kronz, eds, Fragmenta, vol. 2, 40.6.
26
Hebrews 13:14.
27
Hebrews 11:13.
28
Quis Dives Salvetur, 36.2, PG 9, 642; also Stromateis 4.26, PG 8, 1376.
29
b ex?'extio5 6i5 4EVOS noXut betian. Ep. Diogn. 5.5.
32 JOHN MCGUCKIN
might indeed dwindle one's capacity and range of powers among those
neighbours (the notion of the poor, alienated exile); on the other hand it
might not (the expatriate may have much greater visibility and much
greater access to power than the native neighbour).
In Byzantine ascetical usage, the term xeniteia has come, quite clearly,
to be de-politicized. Its original semantic context, in the earliest Christian
period, was still rooted in the conditions of the Hellenistic city-state, and
Christian use of the idea had predominantly followed the path charted by
the Neo-Stoic ethical tradition which applied such a political symbol, in
the cause of an urban moral paranesis, to connote the way in which a good
man ought to be detached from the grasping affairs of the world. But by
the time of the Byzantine monastic writers such a background context
had become antiquated, and the moral usage had become non-resonant
through over-generalization.
Evagrios still wants to contrast urban life's difficulties with desert
life's freedoms, but to make his point the term xeniteia is no longer
sufficient for him. He has to turn instead to the psalmist to provide his
picture of undesirable urban violence. In this revealing passage, xeniteia,
or voluntary expatriation, is quite specifically and concretely meant. To
achieve that hesychia essential for wisdom it is necessary, Evagrios tells
his readers, to get up and leave. It does not matter whether it is one's
town or one's hermit cell: 'get up and leave' is his advice:
If you find yourself growing strongly attached to your cell, leave

it. Do not cling to it. Be ruthless. Do everything in your power to
attain stillness (hesychia) and freedom from distraction, and
struggle to live according to God's will, battling against your
invisible enemies. If you cannot attain stillness where you live
now, consider living in expatriation (xeniteia) and try to make up
your mind to go. Be like an astute merchant. Make stillness your
criterion for testing the value of everything and choose always
what contributes to it. Indeed, I urge you to welcome
expatriation. It frees you from all the entanglements of your own
locality and allows you to enjoy the blessings of stillness
undistractedly. Do not stay in a town, persevere in the
wilderness, for the Psalm says, 'So I would wander far off and
dwell in the desert' (Ps. 55.7). If possible, do not visit a town at
all, for there you will find nothing of benefit, nothing useful,
nothing profitable for your way of life. To quote the Psalm again,
'I have seen nothing but violence and strife in the city' (Ps. 55:9).'o
There we have the advice of a consummate philosopher and rhetorician,

who had to flee for his life from Constantinople in 383. He goes on to
describe xeniteia as the 'foremost (m@wti) of the radiant glories of the
ascetic conflicts', 'foremost' in the sense of the acme of achievement. This,
too, is a significant rhetorical indicator. By the end of the Christian
rhetorical chain of advice on this matter, and let us take the Sacred Ladder
to represent that 'end' of the chain, the achievement of xeniteia is still the
'first' of virtues, but now no longer 'prote', simply primary. The unstated,
but loud, implication of the structure of the ladder, that veritable manual
of ascetical praxis, is that xeniteia, as step three on the lower rungs, is but a
beginner's ascesis. It is something to achieve that sets the rest in motion.
This is the chief tone of most of the material collated together by John of
Sinai in that third section of the Ladder devoted to the term.
There, fifteen aphorisms concern the entrapment of kin-affection,
which has to be cut off in case it draws the 'expatriate' back to his old
condition 31 Attachment to family is seen as the chief cause of collapse in
the early stages of monastic commitment. To have the attitude of a true
expatriate, John teaches, can harden the novice's resolve. Apart from this
treatment, the Ladder merely mentions xeniteia five or six more times as a
generic symbol for moral detachment 32 In other words, for John, xeniteia
is now rhetorically synonymous with the proper monastic mentality. By
this stage it is pointless asking what xeniteia contributes to monastic
spirituality. It has been utterly flattened out in the course of a brief but
vibrant Christian twist of the Greco-Roman moral rhetoric tradition, as
the church forged a newly precise language of ascesis. It has simply
become synonymous with 'entrance into the monastic state', and those
leave-takings that new beginnings require. It is for this reason that the
Ladder adds in warnings about feelings of homesickness for lost kin or the
daily temptation to return to one's family.
This synonymity of xeniteia with monastic stability is certainly not the
context of Evagrios, however. His fixed goal was sophia. Yet we make a
large mistake if we take him too literally when he advocates withdrawal.
He does so, for example, chiefly for a rhetorical end - a theoria rather than
30
Evagrios (formerly attributed to Nilus of Ancyra), Ad Eulogium 2, PG 79,1096.
31
The Sacred Ladder 3.2; 3.3; 3.4; 3.7; 3.8; 3.10; 3.11; 3.12; 3.14; 3.16; 3.17; 3.20; 3.23; and
3.27.
32
The Sacred Ladder 3.5; 3.6; 3.22; 24.28; and 28.25.
34 JOHN MCGUCKIN
a praxis - and that end (telos logikos) of achieved Wisdom is witnessed, in

part, precisely by the text he produces to demonstrate his mastery of the
inner life. In his published Discourses (Logoi) that miraculously survived
both imperial and ecclesiastical hostility, we see the recommendation of
quiet (non-verbal) estrangement precisely as what it is in his own case:
the process of a philosopher-theologian who moves toward a more
purified and thus more potent form of discourse. It is, if you like,
comparable to Gregory of Nazianzen's 'Silent Lent', the pre-paschal fast
of more or less that same year as Evagrios fled from Constantinople. For
the whole forty days Gregory 'fasted from words' on his private estates;
yet it was one of the most famously voluble silences in Christian history,
recounted to us in the exquisitely crafted rhetoric of his poetry. In this
sense, as with Evagrios, silence is about assuming the right to teach. If
Evagrios was not always heard with deference in the monastic assemblies
where, perhaps, his Coptic was not as fluent as that of others who
regarded the xenos with suspicion, then in his textual Logoi, at least, he
was heard internationally, and in the end heard through the centuries.
To be silent in such a case is to speak the loudest of all. This specific
rhetorical move, an advocating of the right of the spiritual master to
direct others, is what I would mark out carefully as the first specifically
Christian contribution to the theory of philosophic xeniteia. Xeniteia and
silence, then, are first connected in the context of the claims to
authoritative discourse. With Evagrios that claim was backed up
literarily. It shares the same paradoxical character of the paranetic
tradition on xeniteia expressed in the Letter of Diognetos, though in this
case the political idiom has been superseded. The same rhetorical
argumentation can be found in the later orations and poems of Gregory
Nazianzen, Evagrios's one-time teacher.
If Evagrios taught authoritatively through his Logoi, however, others
in that Egyptian milieu, and who used the Coptic tongue, needed a more
vocal avenue for authoritative teaching. In this case it is ultimately no
surprise, though at first puzzling, to see how many of the references to
xeniteia in the apophthegmatic tradition, stretched between Evagrios in
the fourth century and John of Sinai in the seventh, are connected with
making xeniteia issue forth not in wise teaching, but in abiding silence.33
" The material Gould focused on, describing the logic as 'few but significant ... '
Abba Tithoes, for example, says: 'Xeniteia means a man should keep
his mouth shut.'34 And when Abba Longinos asked Abba Lucius if he
should follow his desire to go into xeniteia:
The old man said to him, 'If you do not control your tongue, you
will not be in xeniteia wherever you go. Control your tongue here,
and you
will.'35
Abba Agathon is reported to have said:
Keep the mindset of a foreigner (xenos) so as to overcome

carelessness in speech'6
So how can one deduce that xeniteia, as Evagrios indicated, is a

springboard to authoritative discourse (a claim on the part of someone to
be fitted for the task of the master-teacher), when the evidences of this
nexus of logia seem so clearly against such an idea? Well, two things need
to be kept in mind. The first is that not all the warnings against speech,
when set in tandem with the concept of xeniteia, are so peremptorily
given as the above appear to be. There are several others which suggest a
mood quite like that of Evagrios's point. One of these comes from Abba
Isaiah, who thereby proves his quality as guiding-master to the disciples
who are in the process of being taught by him:
One of us asked, 'What is xeniteia, father?' And he said, 'Be silent,

and in every situation say, "Who am I?" Wherever you dwell, do
not get involved with anyone over any business at all. This is
xeniteia.i37
Similarly, the rock of the rhetorical sub-text is not quite covered by the
tide in the Logion ascribed to Poemen:
A brother asked Abba Poemen, 'How ought I to live in the place

where I dwell?' The old man said to him, 'Have the mindset of a
3a
Apoph. Patrum, Tithoes 2, PG 65,429.
35 Apoph. Patrum, Longinos 1, PG 65,256.
J6 Apoph. Patrum, Agathon, PG 65,108-109.
Abba Isaiah, Logos 6.6Bb, in R. Draguet, ed., 'Les V recensions de l'Asceticon
syriaque d'Abba Isaie', Corpus Scriptorutn Christianorum Orientalium 293, Scriptores Syri 122,
(Louvain, 1968).
36 JOHN MCGUCKIN
foreigner (xenos) in the place where you dwell so as not to desire to

parade your wisdom before you. Then you will have rest.'38
Three of the aphorisms on xeniteia collated together in Section Three of

the Sacred Ladder also preserve this character of the connection between
seeking to be a stranger and unknown, and yet having always the
potential to be recognized as someone decidedly public, whether from
the quality of one's inner condition or from the authoritative leadership
one might command as a 'patriarch' and teacher:
He is in xeniteia who has knowledge but still sits like one of foreign
speech, amongst a people of a different tongue.39
Or again:
Hide your noble birth, and do not glory in your distinction, lest
you be found to be one thing in word, and another in deed.9°
Or lastly:
Sometimes the Lord has brought much glory to the man who has
gone into xeniteia after the manner of the patriarch [Abraham]. But
even if the glory is God-given, still it is an excellent thing to deflect
it from oneself with the shield of humility.41
Such texts suggest to me that the first stage of the particularly 'Christian'
monastic literature on xeniteia was represented in a pure form by
Evagrios, and ran on dilutedly in a few other apophthegmatic texts. To
sustain such a point, I would like to come back to that core body of
material in the apophthegmatic tradition which says explicitly, and
precisely: 'Xeniteia means for a man to keep his mouth shut!' Far from
contradicting our thesis, this sustains the point that xeniteia (even with a
command to silence) is ultimately about the claim to the power of
authoritative discourse. What I mean thereby is that the text does not
equate xeniteia with everyone's need to be silent - but insists rather on the
3' Poemen, Logion 4, Greek Apophthegmata Supplement, in J.C. Guy, ed., 'Recherches sur
la tradition grecque des Apothegmata Patrum', Subsidia Hagiographica 36 (Brussels, 1962
and 1984), 30.
" Ladder, 3.13.
4' Ladder, 3.19.
" Ladder, 3.21.
hearer's requirement to be silent. In this tradition the listener must 'shut

up' while receiving the authoritative discourse of the logion of a now
long-dead master: a logion, needless to say, which has been carefully
edited or translated into Greek and presented in the memorizable form of
alphabetical aphorisms. It may not be quite the free spirit of an Evagrios
any more, but it is certainly more approachable by a wider readership,
and more practical as a guidance manual. The Vita of John Klimakos also
suggests the same thing - for he assumed the hegumenate of Sinai, we are
told, only after having been criticized for being too ready to discourse (to
visitors to his cell). In response he closed his doors to all the brethren for
over a year, and gave no more logoi until he was petitioned by the Sinai
community to become their chief teacher. His text, the Ladder itself, issued
from that elevation as an expression of his right to authoritative
discourse. The rhetor's claim to authoritative discourse is still very much
present: proven by long prior praxis of silent reflection and acute
discernment, it now issues forth in the form of an authoritative and
closing (if not already closed) literary canon, for a time when the ready
supply of living masters has dwindled. Paradoxically, the last stage of the
tradition, represented in the Apophthegmata by the common-sense Coptic
masters rather than by the acute rhetorically trained philosopher-
theologians like the Cappadocians or Evagrios, is precisely the one that
was reclaimed by the Greek translators and collators such as Palladios or
John of Sinai (the 'Scholastic'), re-imparted to Byzantium to launch a
spiritual tradition that was to outlast Late Antiquity and survived as an
ascetical Grundschrift in a world that hardly remembered any more the
philosophical and rhetorical postulates of that era that first gave it birth.
Our conclusions, then, are as follows. The state of xeniteia in the New
Testament and earliest Greek Christian writers is but a continuation of
the Neo-Stoic topos of moral detachment. In the first movement to
appropriate the term for a new discourse among Christian ascetics,
philosophically trained and competent rhetors, especially Evagrios,
developed the notion of being an expatriate, to signify detachment from
the world, but added in to the monastic tradition the specific elements of
recommending the physical act of wandering, as a defence of hesychia. It
was something that rose out of the particularity of Evagrios's own
condition: the paradox of a withdrawn figure of international fame. For
him, xeniteia is important as a fundamental preparatory ascesis. Silence is
the essential prelude to true spiritual discourse. The later apophthegmatic
tradition certainly irons out much of this sub-text, though never quite
levels it. The great abbas in the aphoristic collections equated xeniteia with
38 JOHN MCGUCKIN
silence, not to stifle the rhetorical claim to authoritative discourse but to

control the pedigree and succession of that discourse - the line of masters
and disciples. The disciple must be silent; the master continues to speak
with great force, even when he recommends that it is better not to.
In the end, and already visible by the time of the Sacred Ladder, the
concept of xeniteia is flattened out with a new meaning that thinks it has
gone back to the original sense of the word: it is moving off to foreign
parts (at least metaphorically understood now). By this time, however,
the Christian sense of etymology is astray. This was not the original force
of the word at all, and is not a re-pristination of meaning as much as a
newly forged meaning within the tradition. To continue to use the word
in the monastic literature where it had a now customary place, the ascetic
tradition re-assigned it to a rather lowly task: part of the encouragement
of novices in the early stages of leave-taking not to grieve too much about
leaving their kin.
The history of the tradition in this respect is more complex than might
at first emerge from a narrow collation of the logia. How typical of the
Byzantine, who valued discourse and locality so highly, that the symbol
of xeniteia (being an expatriate) meant not so much a permanent
acceptance of awkward silence among a people of foreign tongue, but
part of an energetic work that heralded the publication of an
authoritative discourse - in Greek of course. The Byzantine ascetical
teacher belonged to an international tradition, one provided at first by the
solid foundations of an ancient philosophical culture and soon afterwards
by a shared set of expectations among Christian ascetic communities.
Such a Homo Byzantinus did not stay xenos for long, no matter where he
might find himself geographically.
3. Byzantine Asceticism -
a Stranger to the Church?
Janet Rutherford
We are used to thinking of Byzantine ascetics against the paradigm of the

great monastic theologians who played such a large part in the
development of Orthodoxy. The weight given to their activities, both by
political historians interested in the consequences of schisms, and by
ecclesiastical historians interested in tracing the development of Christian
doctrine, has made this inevitable. But how representative were
prominent monastic theologians of wider ascetic culture? Were monastic
communities in general really interested in doctrine at all, and if so, what
kind of doctrine? To assess this it is necessary to consider not only the
literature produced by monk theologians and preserved by 'the Church'
as the cornerstones of Orthodoxy, but also the literature which was
preserved by ascetic communities themselves. Work is currently in
progress examining extant monastic brebia and noting the books they
mention,' and it will be interesting to examine the results this produces.
But such inventories are relatively few, and will only provide partial
evidence for the life of other monastic communities. A complementary,
and more widespread source of evidence for the literature which
practising ascetics used is provided by the extent of manuscript survival.
With reference to this type of evidence I would like to examine the works
of two ascetics who, though living at different times and engaged in
different types of composition, produced works which had a wide and
enduring appeal for monastic communities both in their own day and
continuously to the present. My excuse for linking two authors who differ
both in period and genre is that one of them valued and made extensive
use of the other.
' See, for example, the work by Judith Waring, 'Byzantine monastic libraries in the
eleventh and twelfth centuries' (Unpublished PhD thesis, Belfast, 1998).
2000
From Strangers to Themselves: The Byzantine Outsider, ed. Dion C. Smythe. Copyright ©
Ltd, Gower House, Croft Road, Aldershot, Hampshire, GUll 3HR, Great Britain.
39
40 JANET RUTHERFORD
To start with, however, we should take a moment to recall that

Byzantine asceticism was generally characterized by an obstinate
conservatism in the propagation of its own practical, as distinct from
specifically theological, literature. Despite his condemnation on
theological grounds, for example, Evagrios's practical instruction on
prayer was jealously preserved by ascetics, who either attributed it to
Neilos and circulated it pseudonymously,' or where applicable translated
it into Syriac.3 There is in these Evagrian works little that bears directly on
contemporary doctrinal debates, but much on the theory and practice of
prayer, and it is this which is significant: while the Christological debates
raged, and despite the monastic associations of many of the participants,
the bulk of the non-biblical and non-liturgical literature guarded and
transmitted by monks did not address Trinitarian theology at all. Arians
and Monophysites may be cast as villains in apophthegmata, but the
moral of the story usually bears on the dangers of pride and disobedience
rather than the details of Trinitarian relationships.
It is important to note that this non-participation in Trinitarian and
Christological dogmatic development was not confined to ascetics, or
indeed to clergy, of less education or eminence than the figures whose
names are familiar to us. In other words, it is not simply a case of the
generality of monks not being able to keep abreast of affairs which
occupied their more sophisticated brethren. Aeneas of Gaza in the late
fifth century, for example (admittedly a layman and philosopher),
occupied himself not with what we have been accustomed to believe
were the prevailing theological concerns of his day, but with composing a
very elegant dialogue, in a Platonic style, on the immortality of the soul
and the reality of resurrection life. The much-neglected fifth-century
theologian Diadochos of Photike also provides evidence of there being
more pressing issues for working ascetics than Trinitarian or
Christological Orthodoxy. A bishop in fifth-century Epiros and an ascetic,
Diadochos wrote a major theological treatise whose concepts owed much
to Aristotle and whose style much to classical models.' In addition to his
evident education, he was not so much of a recluse as to have no
knowledge of contemporary affairs outside his diocese. He signed, and
may have been the author of, a letter to Leo I from the bishops of Epiros
:
As the treatise 'On Prayer', PG 79, 1165-1200.
3 As 'The Gnostic Centuries', A. Guillaumont, ed., PO 28.
4 100 Kephalaia Gnostika, in the critical edition by E. des Places, Oeuvres spirihielles de
Diadoque de Photice (Paris, 1966).
BYZANTINE ASCETICISM 41
on the death of Proterios of Alexandria! His work was known in Africa at

a very early stage, perhaps even in his lifetime.' Yet his theological
treatise was built upon an understanding of the relationship between the
persons of the Trinity which would have been more at home in the third
century than his own, to judge from our usual understanding of the
history of doctrinal development.'
The preoccupations of historians have had an unfortunate impact on
Diadochos's reputation. Because he wrote in a sophisticated and
somewhat convoluted style, it has not been easy to grasp his meaning;
but an isolated and passing reference to Christ not being 'of one confused
nature' preserved him for dyophysite orthodoxy.' In fact, the composition
of the person of Christ plays no part in his developed theology. This is
not to say, however, that Diadochos was not concerned about heresy, or
indeed about relationships between the persons of the Trinity, because he
was; he wrote to address a heresy. But the heresy he refuted concerned
the practice of prayer, as we shall see. A theory of the operation of the
Godhead on the human condition was essential to him since his subject
matter was the presence of grace in the soul.
For Diadochos, understanding our fallen condition is inextricably
linked to understanding Christ's saving achievement. Humanity's
creation 'in the image of God' involved the soul in a continuum of being
which emphasized our innate kinship with God. The unknowable Father
patterned humanity after His own Logos, His essential rationale and
perfect likeness, manifest in creation. Subsequent to the Son's Incarnation
and consequent to one's baptism, the Spirit conveys the presence of the
Logos to the soul as the light of illumination, re-integrating it and re-
orientating it towards its source and pattern, restoring its form 'in the
likeness' of Christ through the prayer 'Lord Jesus'. Thus, there is an
effulgence of luminous being flowing from the Father, manifest in the
Son, and conveyed into the divinely patterned soul by the Spirit.
Diadochos's theory of salvation was equally anachronistic. Christ's
saving achievement came through his example among us, and through
being the pattern for our creation and restoration. Although his theories
are not identical to those of any other author, Diadochos has more in
5 Mansi, Concilia, VII, 619A.

6 See 'Diadoque de Photike et Victor de Vita', REB 45 (1943), 225-232.
' See J. Rutherford, 'Sealed with the likeness of God', T. Finan, ed., Studies in Patristic
Christology (Dublin, 1998), 67-83.
8 'Sermon on the Ascension', in critical edition by E. des Places, Oeuvres spirituelles
(Paris, 1966).
42 JANET RUTHERFORD
common with Eusebios of Caesarea, or indeed Clement of Alexandria,

than with the Trinitarian theorists of his own day. In many respects this is
not surprising: the tendency in the development of Trinitarian theology
was to emphasize the otherness of creature from Creator, in order to
safeguard the Son as being a full and equal person within the Godhead.
For those whose business was to find God in prayer, and pattern
themselves on Christ, the growing emphasis on the radical difference
between God and the human soul cannot have been helpful. Earlier
emphases on Christ as the Father's manifest presence among us, and the
Logos as God's ordering and sustaining presence within creation, would
have been much more congenial.
Diadochos was, however, as I have indicated, interested in heresy, and
it was to counter heresy that he wrote. But the heresy which concerned
him was one which threatened the practice of prayer rather than our
understanding of the composition of the Godhead. The broad movement
we know as Messalianism taught that the devil remains in man even after
baptism; consequently Messalians regarded the unceasing prayer
enjoined on us by St Paul to be a perpetual, and demonstrative, penance.
In addition, they cited the presence of logismoi in the mind during one's
attempts to pray as evidence of the devil's continuing indwelling
presence in the soul. This heresy, affecting one's understanding of prayer,
and consequently one's efforts to pray validly, was an immediate danger
to practising ascetics in a way that Trinitarian and Christological
heterodoxy was not. Yet collections of logoi with Messalian associations
contained much valuable insight on prayer which ascetics were reluctant
to give up. These writings themselves were zealously preserved
pseudonymously, like those of Evagrios; in this case under the name of
Makarios. I have indeed argued that Diadochos's driving force in arguing
against Messalian interpretations of the experience of prayer was his
desire to preserve the useful instruction of these writings, and their
distinctive language of the emotional consequences of praying, without
their underlying theology! His theories of the nature of the soul, its
damage due to Adam and its experience of grace through Christ, were
developed to explain the true significance of spiritual experience in
prayer: the soul remains damaged after baptism, but not inhabited by
Satan.
' J.E. Rutherford, 'An Imperative of longing: apprehending God in the 100 Kephalaia
Gnostika of Diadochos of Photike' (Unpublished PhD thesis, Belfast, 1996).
Diadochos's importance to practising ascetics is known to us partly

through the number of extant manuscripts of his work, and its eventual
inclusion in the Philokalia of Nikodemos.10 But in addition, his work also
makes up a significant proportion of a florilegium which itself came to be
valued by ascetics from the eleventh century onwards. The Synagoge of
Paul Evergetinos has also been neglected in terms of the evidence it
provides of day-to-day asceticism out of the glare of doctrinal
controversy." Eleventh-century Constantinopolitan monasticism is
associated in most people's minds with Symeon the New Theologian and
his radical claims to spiritual authority." Yet what evidence we have,
even from his own hagiographer, does not suggest that Symeon was
representative of anyone but himself.13 As a monastic organizer he was
not a success, and his community at St Mamas did not flourish after his
departure. By contrast the monastery of the Theotokos Evergetis was not
only a success itself; it served as a pattern for other communities, both
through the Hypotyposis of its second founder Timothy, and through the
Synagoge and Katechetikon of its first founder Paul.
The S ynagoge itself had a very wide influence, and upward of 80
manuscripts are still extant. These range in date from the eleventh
century to the eighteenth (when the first printed edition was made),
evidence of its widespread and continuing appeal to practising ascetics.
That it was valued as a working text and not merely preserved as an
esteemed volume is evidenced within the manuscripts themselves. At
times scribes were careless about clearly marking the beginnings of new
chapters, or new source authors within chapters. Here almost invariably
the same hand or a second has gone back and added marginal markers
for chapters or authors. In addition marginal lemmas for Paul
Evergetinos's own glosses are commonly made, but not uniformly
between manuscripts. A table of chapter titles is usually provided at the
beginning of each volume. All these things, and corrections made in the
text, indicate that the work was used as a source book for the many
ascetical subjects Paul discusses; it was important to be able to look a
Philocalia, St Nikomemos of the Holy Mountain (Athens, 1963), vol. 1.

14
" See M. Mullett and A. Kirby, eds, The Theotokos Evergetis and Eleventh-Century
Monasticism (Belfast, 1994) and M. Mullett and A. Kirby, eds, Work and Worship at the
Theotokos Evergetis (Belfast, 1997).
'2 See J. McGuckin, 'The luminous vision in eleventh-century Byzantium', in Mullett
and Kirby, Work and Worship, 90-123.
13 See Nikitas Stethatos, 'Life of Symeon the New Theologian', I. Hausherr, ed., with a
French translation by G. Horn, Orientalia Christiana 12 (1928).
44 JANET RUTHERFORD
topic up, and find its number in the volume without too much trouble.
More than once, a scribe has had to go back and add chapter numbers
where he had only given titles.
The Synagoge therefore struck some nerve in Byzantine monasticism. It
filled a gap in useful instructive literature, and this can tell us much about
the real day-to-day theological interests of large numbers of Byzantine
monks. Two things stand out in this respect. One is the selection of
authors that Paul made for his work. Unlike the Philokalia, for example,
Paul did not incorporate whole works into his collection. Based on what
must have been an intimate personal knowledge of his source authors, he
intricately selected and edited passages to illustrate hypotheses of his
own composition. Thus Paul's own hypotheses and selectivity provide
evidence of what many Byzantine ascetics wished to preserve for their
own edification. Both these aspects tell us interesting things. Paul's
supporting texts come predominantly from apophthegmata and lives of
ascetics, together with other literature from the golden age of desert
monasticism: Cassian, Palladios, Ephraem, Isaac. There is little that is
later in date than the Dialogues of Gregory the Great, themselves of
practical rather than theological import. Theologians represented in the
Synagoge are Maximos and Diadochos, theorists on the practice of prayer.
As far as the subject matter of Paul's hypotheses is concerned, there is
also a marked emphasis on 'how to', from the physical and logistical
concerns of community life, developing in the last volume to prayer and
spiritual leadership. Because he wrote so shortly after Symeon the New
Theologian, Paul's silence on the subject of deriving authority from
spiritual experience is significant, as is his explicit instruction to avoid
doctrinal debate and 'pseudonymous writings' completely." His
emphasis on the simple and humble reading of Scripture is also
significant, in view of the use Symeon made of scriptural paradigms for
his own claims.'-' Yet in accordance with his own instruction, even in the
aftermath of Symeon and at a time of increased tension with the papacy,
Paul makes no reference to any doctrinal controversy or schism of any
period. The odd Arian in apophthegmata is sufficiently ancient to be a
mythical beast; and Paul's glossed apophthegm concerning Messalians is
illustrative of the error of pride.16 His intricate editing of both Mark the
Monk and Diadochos excised all mention of their respective anti-
14
Synagoge, Hypothesis IV.18.
15
Synagoge, Hypotheses IV.16-17.
16
Synagoge, Hypothesis IV.8.
Messalian baptismal theologies." Interestingly, work done on Paul's

Katechetikon by Barbara Crostini Lappin has also shown his deliberate
excision of references to the iconoclast debate from those catecheses of
Theodore Studios he borrowed.1e To judge from the widespread and
enduring influence of Paul's works, we must assume that he provided the
things that many Byzantine ascetics regarded as helpful for what they
wanted to be about; and as I have said, the evidence of manuscripts of the
Synagoge suggests that monks not only preserved such texts for their
image value, but also used them.
What then are we to conclude about the relationship between the
generality of Byzantine ascetics, both educated and not, and doctrinal
Orthodoxy? The evidence we have does not suggest heterodoxy, but
rather a consuming interest in other things. We cannot suppose that
Orthodoxy was not important to ascetics' understanding of themselves,
but the constituent details of Orthodox doctrine did not greatly impinge
on their lives. This has implications also for our assessment of the
significance of the conventions of ascetic literature and the ascetic bios.
We must be careful in looking back from our own agnostic and image-
ridden day and assessing what was or was not a topos of ascetic life, to
say nothing of what was 'only' a topos. The evidence of the Synagoge and
the works it draws upon suggests that, if anything, Trinitarian Orthodoxy
was a topos for those trying to get on with the nitty-gritty of prayer, while
the subject matter of desert monastic literature was of real practical
concern for them. Ultimately we may ask whether our notion of topoi fits
Byzantine psychology or self-understanding very well at all. In the case
of asceticism, Orthodoxy was affirmed liturgically and was perhaps
primarily a statement of kinship within a religious culture, whereas the
conventional terminology of ascetic literature was the familiar working
context for life within that culture. I suggest that Orthodoxy was the
theological context for bios within the prevailing religious culture, within
which conventions of ascetical language were used, more widely than we
may be accustomed to think, for genuine attempts to draw near to God.
" See M. Cunningham, 'Creative selection? Paul of Evergetis's use of Mark the Monk'
and J. Rutherford, 'Diadochos of Photike and the Structure of the Synagoge', both in
Mullett and Kirby, Work and Worship at the Theotokos Evergetis, 134-142 and 152-165.
'a B. Crostini Lappin, 'Originality and dependence in the Katechetikon of Paul of
Evergetis: some examples of catecheses adapted from Theodore of Studios', in M. Mullett,
ed., Founders and Refounders in Byzantine Monasticism (Belfast), in preparation.
4. Middle Byzantine 'Tours of Hell':
Outsider Theodicy?
Jane Baun
In the classic twentieth-century statement of the outsider, Camus's

L'Etranger, the hero's gradual alienation from society culminates in a
courtroom, during a trial that proceeds virtually as if the accused himself
were not present. In a little-known Byzantine vision of the otherworld
from around the turn of the tenth century, the Apocalypse of Anastasia, the
climax also occurs in a courtroom. The judge is Christ and the court is in
heaven, but the trial is as grim and inexorable as Meursault's; the judge,
just as oblivious of the defendant and as deaf to the pleas of the defence.'
Mankind is on trial. The prosecutors before the throne of God are
three women, Agia Kyriake, Agia Tetrade and Agia Paraskeve, who represent
the feast and fast days of Sunday, Wednesday and Friday. The charges
are: failing to abstain from work, lighting ovens, and strolling through the
streets on Sundays; eating meat and cheese, and engaging in sexual
relations on Wednesdays and Fridays. All three woman complain of the
defilement they suffer at the hands of faithless humanity. After each
complaint, a disembodied 'Voice', presumably that of God, pronounces a
thunderous curse upon those who work on Sunday, and who fail to fast
on Wednesdays, Fridays, and before receiving Holy Communion. Those
who persist in their evil ways, it promises, will inherit eternal fire. Finally
the Theotokos, the Mother of God, speaks for the defence:
Master, you should not hear the entreaty of holy Friday and holy
Wednesday, and destroy the works of your hands, but you should
send forth a sign, so that they might see and believe?
' Rudolf Homburg, ed., Apocalypsis Anastasiae (Leipzig, 1903), 12-16.

2
Anastasia, 15.4-6.
47
48 JANE BAUN
Deaf to the pleas of his mother, Christ turns his face away. Mary
exclaims, 'Is there no one to help the sinners?!' Her cry activates a mass
proskynesis:
...all fell on their faces before the throne of God: the angels and
archangels, prophets and apostles and martyrs, crying out and
saying, 'Master, have mercy on the sinners, and do not destroy the
works of your hands'.3
No response comes from the throne. The plea is left hanging in the air, the
fate of mankind in the balance. Anastasia and the angel proceed matter-
of-factly to their next venue, a punishment zone of fiery lakes and pits.
Will God destroy the works of his hands? We are left uncertain, and also
with the suspicion that this drama of accusation and intercession is
ongoing.
Camus considered an ordinary secular court, with human judges,
most expressive of alienation for modem Western European society. Our
tenth- or eleventh-century Byzantine author chose a heavenly court,
staffed with divine personnel, and this choice has disturbing implications.
The author's clear conviction that the judge has not the slightest interest
in pleas for mercy, not even those of the Theotokos, is all the more
chilling because this is truly the supreme court, whose verdicts are
irrevocable and eternal.
The Apocalypse of Anastasia's tableau of the Creator disowning and
threatening to annihilate his creation signifies the ultimate in alienation -
not just from society, but from the very source of one's being. What could
underlie such a drastic perspective on sin and judgement? This paper
argues that it is the experience of outsiders, of the socially excluded and
ecclesiastically alienated, that informs - whether deliberately or
subliminally - much of the moral imagination of Middle Byzantine
apocryphal revelations such as the Apocalypse of Anastasia and a sister
text, the Apocalypse of the Theotokos.'
Both apocalypses narrate journeys to the otherworld. They are early
medieval (ninth- to eleventh-century) reworkings in Greek of the Late
Antique genre, popular among both Jews and Christians, of the 'tour of
' Anastasia, 15.11-16.2.

' Both texts are discussed in detail in a forthcoming monograph on medieval Greek
apocryphal texts, based in part on my doctoral dissertation (Princeton, 1997).
'TOURS OF HELL': OUTSIDER THEODICY? 49
hell'! The Late Antique apocalypses were attributed to biblical authority

figures - prophets, scribes and apostles, such as Baruch, Enoch, Peter and
Paul. In contrast, the two early medieval visions are both attributed to
women. Is the change in attribution only coincidental? The earlier, 'male',
texts generally reinforce a patriarchal and autocratic status quo, both in
heaven and on earth. The later texts work within the same imaginative
and interpretative structures, but to very different ends. Each, under the
pressure of its unique social environment, imbues the conventions of the
'tour' genre with new meanings, and in particular with a tension wholly
lacking in the earlier texts. I shall argue that the two 'female' apocalypses
not only adapt the 'tour' genre, but ultimately subvert it, shifting its
emphasis from the revelation of 'insider' secrets by authority figures to an
expression of 'outsider' grievances through characters of more
ambiguous status.
To this end, we shall first establish the nature of the 'tour' genre in
general, and the basic features of two Late Antique exemplars, the
Apocalypses attributed to Peter and to Paul. We shall then contrast the
Apocalypse of the Theotokos, with its strong element of protest against
otherworld punishments, examining it in the context of contemporary
changes in the Byzantine penal code. Finally, we shall return to the
Apocalypse of Anastasia, which, in its infusion of class tensions, completes
the process of informing the genre with 'outsider' concerns.
In the two medieval texts, we may just glimpse what it was to be on
the receiving end of the resurgent administrative, fiscal and judicial
discipline of the Isaurian and Macedonian dynasties. Few other sources
supply us with this perspective. The land legislation of the Macedonian
emperors provides hints, but as Rosemary Morris has shown, its
biblically flavoured rhetoric finally speaks most eloquently of
Constantinople's attempts to break the power of the magnates, rather
than of the realities or thought world of the Some saints' lives,
humble.6
such as the ninth-century Life of Philaretos the Merciful, offer anecdotal

detail of the lives of those alienated by poverty, disease, military
obligations, landlords, tax collectors, and other authority figures.' If we
seek, however, a sense of the imaginative structures through which the
alienated understood their lives, the various transformations of
5 See M. Himmelfarb, Tours of Hell: An Apocalyptic Form in Jewish and Christian

Literature (Philadelphia, 1983).
6
R. Morris, 'The Powerful and the Poor in Tenth-Century Byzantium: Law and
Reality', P&P 75 (1976), 3-27.
7
M.-H. Fourmy and M. Leroy, eds, 'La Vie de S. Philarete', B 9 (1934), 85-170.
50 JANE BAUN
apocryphal 'tours of hell' deserve careful observation. The flexibility of

the genre enabled, even encouraged, each new copyist to adapt the text to
his or her own circumstances, while the underlying stability of the genre's
structure and imagery throws such changes into high relief.
Evelyne Patlagean, the first to consider medieval Greek apocrypha
with the eye of a social historian, coined the phrase 'normative fiction' for
this kind of text.' The category encompasses a variety of types, from chain
letters to apocalypses to saints' lives such as those of Basil the Younger
and Andrew the Fool. Such texts may possibly preserve traces of actual
historical or visionary experience, but are essentially fictions, cast in
traditional religious genres, intended to reinforce moral and canonical
norms. Whose articulation of these norms is being represented? Patlagean
suggested we see the hand of a commissioning pastor or bishop,
purposing to scare his flock sinless. I am here proposing that in the
apocalypses' imaginative transformations we may also be able to sense an
articulation, however indirect, of the outlook of the flock itself - of those
on whom the norms were being imposed.
In the Theotokian and Anastasian apocalypses, the controlling theme
is of the estrangement of man from God and from society by sin. The long
arm of government and orthodoxy, personified in God the Father and the
Son, is a terrifying arm of judgement and retribution, alienating the
sinner from all possibility of divine compassion and forgiveness. The idea
that mankind is estranged from God by sin is of course not new; it
pervades the prophets, psalms, and histories of Israel. Canonical and
apocryphal texts that grapple with problems of divine justice and mercy
have a long history in Jewish literature. The 'tour of hell' apocalypses of
the intertestamental period provided an ideal forum for such questions:
most early otherworld tourists plead with a stem God to favour clemency
over punishment, no matter how terrible the sin.'
Christians, adopting the genre with enthusiasm, continued both the
debate and the practice of attribution to Biblical heroes. Not surprisingly,
the earliest explicitly Christian otherworld journeys, of the second and
8 E. Patlagean, 'Byzance et son autre monde. Observations sur quelques recits', in

Faire croire. Modalites de la diffusion et de la reception des messages religieux du XIIe au XVe siecle
(Rome, 1981), 201-221.
' See Richard Bauckham, 'The Conflict of Justice and Mercy: attitudes to the damned
in apocalyptic literature', Apocrypha 1 (1990), 181-196.
third centuries AD, feature the apostles Peter and Paul.10 It is worth
examining these texts briefly, in order to highlight the formal similarities
and thematic divergences between them and their medieval descendants.
Peter's vision begins with the disciples gathered around the Lord on
the Mount of Olives - an insider group if ever there was one." They ask
Jesus for a teaching about the end of the world, and he obliges. Peter is so
horrified at the terrible fate of the sinners that he exclaims it would have
been better for the sinners if they had never been born. Christ rebukes
him, warning him not to think himself more merciful than God. Peter is
then shown the deeds that invited the terrible punishments. Persuaded
that the sinners have got what they deserved, he is silent for the rest of
the text. God's terrible justice is accepted.
Paul is not so easily cowed. He groans, weeps, pleads and argues with
God throughout his journey, and gets results. The Apocalypse of Paul
introduces a new generic feature: concessions. Jesus for Paul's sake grants
all the sinners respite from punishment on Sundays.12 (The story gets
better in the telling: in one later Armenian version of the apocalypse, at
the fervent prayers of Paul and the Theotokos, God releases all the
sinners from torment and destroys the places of punishment - the
! 13)
apokatastasis
Paul questions God, and wrests concessions from God's Son, but he
does so as an insider, receiving favours for sinners because of his
personal friendship with Christ. Peter and Paul are 'team players'; neither
ultimately questions the structures of the otherworld. They are, after all,
the twin pillars of the church; they have something to lose by defying
God. It will take two women, neither of whom has anything to lose, and
the passage of around six centuries, to turn the genre upside down, to
inspire texts that challenge the fundamental structures and principles of
the otherworld. The gender inversion of the protagonists, from male
authority figures to women, is the first step in the subversion of the
genre, since the authority of women is always ambiguous. The Apocalypse
of the Theotokos builds on Mary's moral standing within the church as an
intercessor - but as we shall see, the position of female intercessors is
10 Peter and Paul cited here from the translations of M.R. James, as reprinted in J.K.
Elliott, ed., The Apocryphal New Testament (Oxford, 1993), 593-615 (Peter); 616-644 (Paul).
Greek text of Paul in K. Tischendorf, Apocalypses Apocrjphae (Leipzig, 1866), 34-69.
Elliott, ANT, 600-612.
12
Elliott, ANT, 639; §44.
13 L. Leloir, transl., Apocrypha Apostolorum Armeniaca, Corpus Christianorum, Series
Apocryphorum 3 (Turnhout, 1986), vol. 1, 171-172; version 4, §35.
52 JANE BAUN
more ambivalent than it might seem. The heroine of the Apocalypse of

Anastasia is precisely a 'nobody', a generic nun, from an unnamed
convent in an unidentified place.
Let us look more closely at the Apocalypse of the Theotokos, a direct
descendent of Paul's apocalypse, composed probably around the ninth
century." Its close relationship to Paul helps to underscore its
idiosyncracies - idiosyncracies that suggest the articulation of 'outsider'
ideas.
How can the Mother of God be an outsider? Mary would seem the
consummate heavenly insider, the advocate eternally poised at the right
hand of Christ, as proclaimed in homilies, ivories, processional crosses,
mosaics, templon screens and wall paintings all over Orthodox
Byzantium.15 Two images in particular would have been familiar to the
Middle Byzantine Christian: the Deesis composition, featuring 'Christ
enthroned between Mary and John like an emperor enthroned between
interceding courtiers'," which began to dominate templon screens and
provincial apses in this period; and the Theotokos Paraklesis, in which
Mary, holding a prayer scroll, pleads with Christ for mankind. 17 A ninth-
century mosaic of the Paraklesis image survives in Thessalonike's St
Demetrios church: Mary's features appear red and distorted with grief,
and her scroll reads 'Lord God, hear the voice of my prayer, for I pray on
behalf of the world'.18
Mary does have full access to the throne, but in the popular
imagination she, unlike most courtiers, uses her insider rank to be an
advocate for outsiders. As we shall see below, one especially tormented
group of sinners in her apocalypse makes this point explicitly, reciting a
litany of famous (male) visitors - including Paul - who had never
bothered to stop and ask after them. The desperate, whether excluded by
economic misfortune, illness, low social status or the evil eye, have
always gravitated to Mary's intercessory powers, even as today they flock
to Lourdes, Fatima, Guadeloupe, Tinos and Medjugorje.
" M.R. James, ed., Apocalypse of the Theotokos, in Apocrypha Anecdota, Texts and Studies
2/3 (Cambridge, 1893), 115-126. See R. Bauckham, 'The Four Apocalypses of the Virgin
Mary', in The Fate of the Dead: Studies on the Jewish and Christian Apocalypses (Leiden, 1998),
332-362.
15 Sirarpie Der Nersessian, 'Two Images of the Virgin in the Dumbarton Oaks
Collection', DOP 14 (1960), 74-75.
16 Annemarie Weyl Carr, 'Deesis', in ODB (Washington, DC, 1991), 599-600.
17 Der Nersessian, 78-80.
U G.A. and M.G. Soteriou, He Basilike tou Hagiou Demetriou Thessalonikes (Athens,
1952),195-196, pl. 66.
The exact nature of Mary's position as an insider is complicated, and

has been constantly subjected to redefinition. Being an intercessor does
not of necessity signify insider status, especially for women within
patriarchal structures. Paul Strohm has suggested, for example, that the
intercessory role of later medieval English queens developed as their
actual authority declined, and was contingent upon 'exclusion from the
centers of mundane authority'.19 Mary's intercession fits uncannily well
into the patterns noted by Strohm. She is portrayed in her apocalypse as
one whose normal sphere lies outside the male power centres of the
otherworld, into which she bursts as a femina ex machina, able to force
changes precisely because she comes from without.
Does Mary's intercession make her apocalypse a subversive text? Not
necessarily. In the medieval English examples, intercession actually
functions within the texts in submissive and total support of patriarchal
autocracy.20 Yet, Strohm notes, 'any such structure can be captured and
redirected from within', 21 and I believe that this process can also be
discerned within the Theotokian apocalypse.
Mary's vision, like that of Peter, begins on the Mount of Olives.
Desiring to see the otherworld, she prays, 'In the name of the Father, Son
and Holy Spirit, let the Archangel Gabriel descend, so that he may inform
me concerning the punishments.j22 The Archangel Michael descends with
a company of angels, and all exchange a series of poetic greetings,
multiple khairetismata, in the formal style of an akathistos prayer.
Mary has clout: she commands archangels and they come (though
why Michael instead of Gabriel remains obscure). Notice, however, that
all is at her initiative. She is not swept up, on God's initiative, to see the
heavens, as were Paul, the prophets, or even Anastasia. Alone among all
the otherworld tourists known to me, Mary is portrayed as having to ask
for admittance, a significant departure from the norm. She is not invited
into the otherworld, but sweeps into it like some outside inspector
checking on reports of misdoing.
Like an inspector, Mary encounters resistance from functionaries who
try to hide things, but she will not be deflected. Early on, when she asks
to see a certain group of sinners, the angels in charge protest they are
19 Paul Strohm, 'Queens as Intercessors', in his Hochon's Arrow: the Social Imagination of
Fourteenth-Century Texts (Princeton, 1992), 95-119 at 96.
20
Strohm, 104.
21
Strohm, 9.
22
Theotokos §1;115.3-6.
54 JANE BAUN
under orders from God to maintain eternal darkness at this site. They
are overruled: at her invocation of the Trinity, the area is flooded with
light. The sinners, overwhelmed, exclaim that of all the visitors to the
punishments - Christ, Abraham, John the Baptist, Moses, and Paul are
named - she alone has condescended to speak to them.29
Mary is clearly in control. Most tours of hell, even Paul's, are formally
more passive; the visitors are shown various scenes first, and ask the
angel for an explanation second, but Mary takes active charge of what the
angel shows her. She wants to know exactly how many punishments
there are, and what each group has done; Michael asks at each turning
where she would like to go next. Like a royal visitor passing through the
wards, Mary pauses at most venues to enquire kindly about the group,
and her presence occasionally causes a brief respite from torment.
Throughout, she weeps freely, and sighs, like Peter, Paul and the
prophets before her, that it were well for these men had they never been
born. The earlier texts had taken pains to refute that idea, but this text's
author seems to endorse it. Instead of contradicting her, Michael merely
warns that the worst is yet to come.25
As the punishments grow more and more gruesome, Mary becomes
ever more determined, agitated and argumentative. Finally she offers a
shocking proposition, challenging God to treat her the way he is treating
mankind: 'Let me too be punished with the Christian sinners, for they are
the children of my Son.'26 With this explicit statement of kinship, the
hearer is reminded of Mary's double maternity: she is the Mother of God,
but she is also, spiritually, the mother of all humanity. God, however,
does not seem moved by the pleas of his mother. While the Archangel
tries to calm Mary with soothing words, we wait in vain for a response to
her challenge.
But this indignant grandmother has had enough. Summoning the
chariot of the cherubim and seraphim, she demands to be taken up to the
throne itself, there to marshall all the heavenly hosts in her cause.27 Her
entreaty does get results: first, 'the Lord' agrees to spare any sinner who
calls upon her name at the moment of death; and in the end, like Paul
before her, Mary secures for the sinners a respite from punishment, this
Theotokos §4; 116.18-117.24.

29
Theotokos §4; 117.7-14.
Theotokos §11; 119.5-8.
26
Theotokos §25; 124.1-12.
27 Theotokos §26;124-126.
one for the fifty days of Easter28 The text leaves the distinct impression,
however, that Mary has had to wrest these concessions from the men on
thrones, and has had to wield extraordinary means to persuade them to
show their greatness through mercy rather than retribution.
It is not in the nature of the men on thrones in either 'female'
apocalypse to show mercy. Both Christ and his Father are distant, stem
monarchs. Neither woman actually sees or speaks directly to 'the
invisible Father' (aoratos pater), not even the Theotokos, who in both texts
addresses her requests to 'the undefiled throne of the Father', and is
answered by a 'Voice', the source of which she cannot see 29 Christ, in the
theological imagination of both 'female' apocalypses, is a poorly defined,
remote divinity whose humanity is not emphasized. Both apocalypses
(especially Anastasia) are puzzlingly imprecise when it comes to the Son's
relationship to the Father and his role in the heavenly economy. The
Theotokian apocalypse is sure of one thing - patriarchy; and this certainty
leads its author on occasion into an almost subordinationist presentation
of Christ. Heaven is modelled as being so thoroughly patriarchal that
only at the direction of the Father does the Son climb down from his
throne to talk to the sinners.30
The viewpoint of those awed and alienated by grand structures of
power also influences the physical appearance of the otherworld in the
medieval texts. For Paul, the city of God is a warm, glowing place of
golden walls and thrones, comely gates, and rivers of honey, milk, oil and
wine 3' For Anastasia, separated from Paul by gender, status and seven
centuries, God dwells in a frightening domain of blinding light, of ice and
fire, and of massive, limitless gates, beyond which stretch alien vistas
containing immense pools3Z The chronological gap between Paul and
Anastasia is probably less significant here than their divergent status and
gender: another tenth-century vision, that of Kosmas the Monk, provides
an instructive foil for Anastasia33 For Kosmas, a former palace official, the
otherworld is but a pleasant continuation of the cultured ease, learned
discourse, and access to power that he enjoyed as a favoured courtier at
the imperial palace. Reflected in the two 'female' apocalypses is a
Theotokos §26, 124.35-37; §29, 124-126.

Theotokos §26; 124-126; Anastasia 14.10-16.2.
Theotokos §29, 126-127.
3' Elliott, ANT, 630-632; §21-29.
3' Anastasia, 4-12.
33 Christine Angelidi, ed., 'La Version longue de la vision du moine Cosmas', AnalBoll
101 (1983), 73-99.
56 JANE BAUN
different world altogether from that of Paul and Kosmas, redolent instead
of exclusion from distant centres of power, and of suffering at their
hands.
As medieval Byzantium constructed the celestial court in the image of
its own terrestrial imperial court, so the otherworld punishment areas in
the apocryphal texts correspond to earthly realities of crime and
punishment. Prison imagery is developed most fully in the Life of
Andrew the Fool, yet another Middle Byzantine apocryphon infused with
'outsider' sentiments.34 A visionary interlude describes the visit of
Andrew's disciple Epiphanios to Hades, which is depicted as a huge,
dark, ugly, noisy prison of cells, iron bars, and unpleasant animals that
represent the souls of specific sinners, according to type of sin. The
otherworld punishment areas in the apocalypses are also full of prisoners,
held captive by terrible angels carrying out God's commands - most
often, punishments that entail mutilation of the specific body parts
involved in the sin.
Such symbolic transformation of the body according to the type of
crime would have been a literal reality for many living under Byzantine
rule, especially after the mid-eighth century. The Ecloga, a selection of
laws issued by Leo III and Constantine V, gave mutilation special
prominence in the Byzantine penal code 35 In addition to flogging and
fines, its seventeenth title provided for amputation of the hand (theft),
tongue (perjury), or private parts (sodomy); blinding (sacrilege); and,
most commonly, nose-slitting (sexual sins). Mutilation was considered
more merciful than capital punishment, more in keeping with the
Christian values that the imperial father and son championed in the
prologue to their revision of Roman law.
Evelyne Patlagean has traced the development of Byzantine penal
mutilations, in law codes as well as in hagiographic, visionary and
dream-interpretation texts, primarily between the sixth and ninth
centuries.-16 The Theotokian and Anastasian apocalypses, which fall
outside the chronological scope of her study, represent a culmination of
the trends she noted. This is not surprising, given the probable date of
composition for the Theotokian apocalypse around the ninth century,
3,
Lennart Ryd@n, ed., The Life of St. Andrew the Fool, Studia Byzantina Upsaliensia,
4:1,2 (Uppsala, 1995), lines 2323-2380.
35 L. Burgmann, ed., Ecloga (Frankfurt-am-Main, 1983), 226-243; English translation in
E.H. Freshfield, A Manual of Roman Law: the Ecloga (Cambridge, 1926), 104-105.
36
E. Patlagean, 'Byzance et le blason penal du corps', in Du chdtiment dans in cite.
Supplices corporels et peine de snort dans le monde antique (Rome, 1984), 405-426.
when the 'Eclogic' vogue for mutilation, confirmed and further

developed in the laws of Basil I, was well under way. Can it be merely
coincidence that Mary's apocalypse registers the strongest protest of all
the apocryphal texts against symbolic 'made-to-measure' mutilations and
tortures in hell? Leo III and Constantine V may have felt the new
measures were more merciful, but several centuries later, once the system
was entrenched, the two medieval 'female' apocalypses, and especially
that of the Theotokos, begged to differ.
Most 'tours of hell', whether Jewish or Christian, Byzantine or
Western, explore the tension between justice and mercy; most also
contain 'made-to-measure' punishments 37 But the issue is treated with
special intensity in the two post-Ecloga Byzantine texts. Mary weeps more
bitterly, and questions more insistently, than do her apostolic
predecessors. Anastasia herself does not comment on what she sees, but
the courtroom drama with which this paper opened, and later scenes
with sinners, leave no doubt as to the compiler's concern regarding the
state of justice in heaven and, by extension, on earth.
Both 'female' apocalypses contain implicit critiques of the structures
and operating principles of the otherworld. Are they subversive? Writing
in a time and place not far removed in spirit from medieval Byzantium,
Dostoevsky thought so. In book five of The Brothers Karamazov (1880), a
Slavonic version of the Theotokian apocalypse furnishes the rebellious
Ivan Karamazov with inspiration for his 'Grand Inquisitor' tale, which
struggles to reconcile similar questions of divine justice and mercy, but
finally rejects a Creation - and a Creator - that allows human suffering.
The Apocalypse of Anastasia, with whose courtroom scene this paper
began, is seemingly the final composition in the family of Greek texts
spawned by the Apocalypse of Paul. Structurally, it is heavily indebted to
Paul's apocalypse; spiritually, to Mary's. The basic features of its Greek
and Slavonic text types were set sometime after the murder of
Nikephoros II Phokas in 969, around seven centuries after the probable
composition of Paul. It is the most eclectic of the three texts, and the most
socially ambivalent.
Anastasia's attitude towards otherworld punishment and retribution
is tantalizingly mixed. Here, I submit, outsider concerns and imagery
have not just influenced the 'tour of hell' genre, but seem to have taken it
over completely. Three themes in particular illustrate this phenomenon.
" See Eileen Gardiner, Medieval Visions of Heaven and Hell (New York, 1993), for the
Western material.
58 JANE BAUN
1) The Mother of God. Mary's development through the Paul-

Theotokos-Anastasia sequence is striking. In the third-century Paul, she
plays a gracious but mostly decorative role in the otherworld, while the
Archangel Michael bears the terrible burden of intercession.38 By the ninth
century, she has been transformed, in her own apocalypse, into a majestic
activist grandmother who storms the gates of heaven. By the turn of the
tenth century, as recorded in Anastasia, Mary is a permanent fixture
before the throne. No longer an occasional tourist in the otherworld, she
has come to stay. In her own apocalypse, Mary is a normal human being
who lives on earth, and needs Michael's help as psychopomp to enter the
otherworld, but in the later Anastasia, she is firmly entrenched as an
inhabitant of heaven. Multiple epithets affirm her as the only hope of
sinners, a sentiment we have seen mirrored in the visual culture of
Anastasia's time as well. The text does not place much hope in Christ, who
appears consistently as the stem judgmental figure of a myriad frescoed
domes.
2) From sanctuary to bureaucracy. The contrast between the Late
Antique and insider consciousness of Paul and the thought world of
Anastasia is especially marked in the two texts' treatment of the reports of
the guardian angels. Paul sees the angels report directly to God at the end
of the day, in an open-air assembly, as part of the preparation for the
celestial vespers service.39 They deliver an oral report of sins and good
deeds, and receive a direct oral response. The context is liturgical, and at
the highest point of heaven stands the sanctuary. Anastasia sees the
angels come to report not to God, but to two clerk angels who sit toiling
over large ledgers, constantly updating the records of sins and good
deeds according to the latest reports .40 At the highest point of heaven we
find not worship, but paperwork. Even the angels have lost direct access
to the throne, and everything you have ever done is written down
somewhere in those books. It is a scene worthy of Kafka.
3) Corrupt officials. Continuing the theme of bureaucratic alienation,
Anastasia develops with special passion the despair of suppliants faced
with corrupt local government officials and authority figures of all kinds.
The apocalypses of Peter, Paul and the Theotokos do not sort their sinners
by class, and by and large, the worst sins in the earlier texts are
theological and sexual, not social or economic. Officials are wholly absent
38
Elliott, ANT, 638, 640; §43, 46.
39
Elliott, ANT, 528-529; §8-10.
40
Anastasia, 24-26.
from the three earlier texts, but Anastasia's vision reserves a separate,
purpose-built punishment zone solely for civil and ecclesiastical officials
who embezzled, lied, stole, confiscated property, and cheated widows
and orphans.41 Some of the most spirited moments in the text occur in this
zone, which opens with a tableau of the empty thrones, imperial and
ecclesiastical, from which the mighty have been put down.
The most vivid single personality in Anastasia is Peter the
Protospatharios, who describes with bitter remorse his official career - its
murders, property confiscations, unjust judgements, accumulation of
wealth and failures in almsgiving - and his present state of relentless
torment.' He addresses a desperate plea to Anastasia to warn his wife
and children, lest they suffer the same fate, and to beg them to offer alms
(from the ill-gotten wealth they inherited) for the mitigation of his agony.
A disproportionately large number of the sinners in Anastasia are
governmental and ecclesiastical authority figures, and they endure the
text's most gruesome and creative punishments. In this section only, the
heat is turned up, and the sound is turned on; we hear their groaning and
feel the flames consuming their flesh. The vision revels in the symbolic
inversion of these people's experience on earth. Patlagean has
documented how it was usually the poor who suffered penal mutilations,
while wealthy offenders - if tried at all - were most often let off with
fines.43 Anastasia's otherworld reverses such terrestrial realities, declaring
unambiguously that punishment - the more horrible the better - for the
formerly powerful is just, and richly deserved. The theme of course harks
back to the parable of Dives and Lazarus (Luke 16:19-31), but its presence
here is an innovation for the 'tour of hell' genre.
The text also insinuates a further modification (admittedly quite
subtle) which could signify the transformation of hell by the alienated. In
the 'elite' punishment zone, reserved for emperors, bishops and high
officials, we see and hear torture, lamentation, gnashing of teeth. But
when we listen closely to the first punishment zone, inhabited largely by
lay people of no special rank or station, guilty of commonplace sins of the
home, the marketplace and the parish church, we will hear nothing.
Someone has turned down both the sound and the heat for the ordinary
people. In the Greek versions of Anastasia, the horrible stenches,
lamentations, sizzling flesh, and torture by avenging angels with iron
41
Anastasia, 26-30.
42
Anastasia, 29-30.
43
Patlagean, 'Blason penal', 407.
60 JANE BAUN
hooks characteristic of earlier tours of hell - and preserved in Anastasia's

Slavonic versions - have clearly been edited out."
Location is also significant. We notice that these hapless lay sinners -
whose babies died before they could be baptized, who slept in or baked
bread on Sunday, who came to church with alcohol on their breath, who
ate meat or cheese on Wednesdays or Fridays, who aborted their babies,
gave false weight in the market, or tampered with sealings - unlike most
of the elite sinners, are not actually boiling in the lakes and rivers of fire,
but sit on the banks, as if waiting. Reading more closely still, we see that
many of the verbs here are not past tense - 'they did this; now they burn'
- but present tense: these are the people who do this kind of thing.
Could it be that what appeared as scenes of 'hell' in the other texts,
visions of specific sinners who committed specific crimes and now pay
the penalty for eternity, have been transmogrified in the lay punishment
zone into a present-tense vision of the 'hell' created on earth by human
sin? This would be sin as known in the mind of God, which sees
simultaneously both the commission of a sin and its effect. Another
possibility is that the fiery lakes and rivers represent the refining fires of
conscience and compunction - and that we are on the path to a kind of
purgatory. Eastern Orthodox church teaching has always discouraged
belief in a purgatorial zone of the kind developed in the West, but it is
undeniably a useful unofficial concept if one seeks to reconcile questions
of justice and mercy, since it allows for both judgement and the granting
of a second chance.
Whatever the theological ramifications of the silent, waiting sinners in
the lay punishment zone of Anastasia, it is clear that the text cheerfully
articulates a double standard with respect to punishment: (temporary)
purgatory for outsiders, (eternal) hell for insiders. The prevailing earthly
double standard, whereby the rich literally get away with murder time
after time, while the poor are punished severely for even minor
infractions, is thus inverted. On earth, the poor are kept in their place, but
in Anastasia's otherworld, the rich are finally put in theirs, into the places
of torment they are laying up for themselves with their treasures on
earth. Anastasia turns the earthly standard on its head - and the 'tour of
hell' genre along with it.
" For the Slavonic version see M. Speranskii, ed., 'Maloe Izvestnoe Vizantiiskoe
"Videnie" i ego Slavianskie Teksty', BS1 3 (1931),110-133.
5. John of Phoberou:
a Voice Crying in the Wilderness*
Robert H. Jordan
In the opening chapter of St John's gospel, the envoys of the Pharisees

approach John the Baptist and ask him 'Who are you?' John replies 'I am
the voice of one crying in the wilderness "Make straight the way of the
Lord," as the prophet Isaiah said." Other accounts of John's relations with
the Pharisees and Sadducees emphasize his alienation from the religious
establishment of his day. 'You brood of vipers,' he said, 'God is able from
these stones to raise up children to Abraham.'2 John's adoption of the
wilderness as his base of operation was highly significant for one who
saw himself as an outsider. As we shall see, John the Baptist's invocation
of past authority and his call for a return to the traditional path of
holiness find a strong echo in the writing of another outsider who took
himself off to the wilderness, the twelfth-century monk, John of
Phoberou.
This John was a monk who with the aid of some important benefactors
refounded and rebuilt the monastery of Phoberou dedicated to the
Prodromos and became its hegoumenos. The only source of information on
this shadowy figure and his monastery is the Typikon which he wrote for
his restored community! If we are to believe John's description of the site,
it was set in a wild and rugged landscape composed of ravines, wooded
hillsides, seaside promontories and high peaks.' Of course such a setting
was part and parcel of the monastic tradition, but since no ruins have as
This paper is dedicated to the memory of a close friend and colleague, Dr W.J.
McAllister, who died on 13 March 1998.
' John 1:22-23; Is. 40:3.
2
Matt. 3:7-9.
' A.I. Papadopoulos-Kerameus, ed., Noctes Petropolitanae (Petrograd, 1913), 1-88
(hereafter, Phoberou Typikon); on the refounder see 1.4.
Phoberou Typikon, 6.9-17.
From Strangers to Themselves: The Byzantine Outsider, ed. Dion C. Smythe. Copyright @ 2000
61
62 ROBERT H. JORDAN
yet been identified as those of the Phoberou monastery, we have no way

of verifying John's description.'
John says very little indeed about his own background. We do know
the names of his grandparents and parents, for they are listed among the
people to be commemorated annually on 24th September;6 both his
grandmother and mother ended their lives as nuns. But where he was
brought up and other aspects of his early life are a complete mystery.
However, he had some illustrious benefactors; chief among these were
Nikephoros Botaneiates and Eudokia Komnene, the daughter of the
sebastocrator Isaac.' He also lists among those to be commemorated the
patriarch Nicholas III Grammatikos.' From what he says about the
benefactions he received, it is clear that Eudokia Komnene was especially
generous, making a number of donations! I get the impression also from
short comments buried in his document that he had practised the ascetic
life before he came to Phoberou, either in another community or possibly
at home.'o
The convictions that took him off to the wilderness are found in the
long rambling first chapter of his Typikon." There he sets out for the
reader and listener, with plenty of quotations from scripture to back him
up, two familiar themes: first, that man was created by God to have a
citizenship in heaven,12 to reach up to that place and contemplate the
beauties there; and secondly, that all the things which confer distinction
on a man in this life quickly fade and pass away. In a summary sentence
he tells us that he went to the monastery of Phoberou in order to turn his
back on the world and live on his own for God - a very traditional
reason. 13
Much later, when he decided to write down the Typikon for his
community, he did what a number of other founders and refounders
were doing at this period and based his document on the Hypotyposis
written by Timothy for the monastery of the Evergetis just outside
5 R. Janin, La geographic ecclesiastique de l'empire byzantin, I, Les eglises et les monasteres

des Brands centres byzantins (Paris, 1975), 7f. For the identification of the site, see 8.
6 Phoberou Typikon, 62.22-27.
' Phoberou Typikon, 62.12-16.
9 Phoberou Typikon, 62.30.
Phoberou Typikon,1416-23; 75.20-24.
Phoberou Typikon, 1.10-5.33.
12 Cf. Phil. 3:20.
" Phoberou Typikon, 5.11-13.
JOHN OF PHOBEROU IN THE WILDERNESS 63
John does not acknowledge Timothy's Hypotyposis

Constantinople.14
anywhere as the source for much of his document; this is in complete

contrast to those portions which he added, for in these he gives us the
sources of many of his quotations. It is almost as if the Evergetis Typikon
was the acknowledged pattern for typika at this time. And there may be
some truth in such a view, if we are to go by a sentence in Isaac's Typikon
for the monastery of Kosmosoteira which was founded in 1152. In Isaac's
Typikon we find the following:
Since many of the wise people, who have renewed holy places of
meditation and have attached monks to them for the praise of God,
have preferred the Typikon of the Evergetis to the typika that exist in
other places of meditation, we also, following them, prefer this one
and we wish the monks to use it in all its arrangements.15
Of all the earlier typika referred to by Isaac, John's Typikon for the
monastery of Phoberou is the earliest surviving copy of Timothy's
Hypotyposis; another using the same source is the Typikon written for the
empress Eirene Doukaina's foundation dedicated to the Theotokos
Kecharitomene.16 In the case of John, I use the word 'copy' deliberately.
For when John was making use of Timothy's Hypotyposis, he copied it
virtually word for word with the result that it has become an important
check on the text of its source.
Despite this, John clearly had a somewhat different view of monastic
life and practice to that encapsulated by Timothy. For different founders
to have different attitudes to such matters as access to the monastery for
people of the opposite gender, or monks coming from another
community is not surprising and the Evergetis 'family' of typika provides
us with plenty of evidence for such differences and the modifications that
were made to accommodate them." However, what is remarkable in
John's case is the strident way in which he set out the modifications that
he wished to make. He did not cut out much of what he found in his
source; instead he laced the whole document with passages of ascetic
" P. Gautier, 'Le typikon de la Theotokos Evergetis', REB, 40 (1982), 5-101.

G.K. Papazoglou, Typikon Isaakiou Alexiou Konmenou tes mones Theotokou tes
Kosmosoteiras (Komotene, 1994), 43.137-139.
16 P. Gautier, 'Le typikon de la Theotokos Kecharitomene', REB, 43 (1985), 5-165.
17 On this group of hjpika see R.H. Jordan, 'The monastery of the Theotokos Evergetis,
its children and grandchildren', in M. Mullett and A. Kirby, eds, The Tlieotokos Evergetis and
Eleventh-Century Monasticism (Belfast, 1994), 215-245. For the relationship between the
Hypohjposis of Timothy and John's Typikon, see 218-225.
64 ROBERT H. JORDAN
teaching. The impression he gives is that he considered the monastic life

as practised in communities like the Evergetis far too lax, far too soft and
did not follow the teachings of the early fathers of the church in a number
of ways.
One of the two chief criticisms of current monastic practice
highlighted by John in his Typikon concerns fasting. He devoted no less
than six new sections to it, some of which were written at great length.18
His primary aim seems to have been to re-establish the traditional
practice of fasting on every Wednesday and Friday throughout the year
to the same degree as that laid down for the holy period of Lent.
We must genuflect as for the holy period of Lent and the diet will
be similar, made up of steeped pulses or fruits and fresh
vegetables, and for our drink, water or hot water flavoured with
cumin, taken at the beginning of the ninth hour. For the most wise
and divine teachers speak as follows in their rules setting it out in
detail, 'If any bishop or priest or deacon or reader or choir member
does not fast during the holy period of Lent or on Wednesday or
Friday, unless he is prevented from doing so by some bodily
weakness, he should be deposed; but if he is a lay person, he
should be excommunicated'.19
John was not content with setting down that strong statement; he added
quotation after quotation drawn from such varied sources as the Lausiac
History, the twelfth canon of the Council of Gangra, the Panaria of St
Epiphanios, St Athanasios and St Symeon.20 This was something he felt
very strongly about and he was utterly convinced that what he was
advocating was central to true askesis. When he reached the end of his
quotations on this topic he added the following:
For I did not write things of my own choice or wish or devising,

but what we have received in writing from our holy fathers and
what we have learned from experience itself to be true and
immutable and unchangeable and without which it is impossible to
follow the path of the monastic life.21
'B Phoberou Typikoti,13.3-14.26; 27.9-28.18; 28.19-28.28; 28.29-33.16; 33.17-38.3; 47.12-

49.27.
Pltoberou Typikon: for Lausiac History 27.23-26; for the Panaria 27.30-34; for canon
of the Council of Gangra 27.27-30; for St Athanasios 27.34-28.6; for St Symeon 28.9-10.
So much for the general principle. As John knew, an exception could

legitimately be made when an important feast fell on a Wednesday or
Friday, and of course this was the way that the tradition of fasting on
these days could be easily undermined. It is possibly the result of his
experience in one or more communities that he was so strict in laying
down the procedures for his own. To begin with, he strictly forbade
cheese, fish or eggs to be eaten on any Wednesday or Friday, whether an
important feast fell on that day or not. But then as a concession he
allowed one dish cooked with olive oil to be eaten to celebrate an
important feast that fell on either fast day. To show that this was no light
thing to have conceded he wrote:
But I have judged myself in advance to be condemned by God

because of your weakness and suggest to you that you break the
fast with a cooked dish when it is the day of a great feast.'
In case there might be arguments about whether such and such a feast
was important enough to warrant the one cooked dish, John set out a list
of feasts for the year and marked which ones were important enough to
merit this concession.' The only other way to avoid fasting on these two
days at the monastery of Phoberou was to be sick. For the hegoumenos was
instructed in the Typikon:
to care especially for such [brothers] with all his heart and assist
the sick on fast days with both wine and cooked food and with all
his heart be anxious about their comfort and the recovery of their
strength 24
Whether this led to increased numbers of brothers falling sick I would not
like to say.
This regime evidently did not meet with wholehearted agreement
right across the community. John does not talk of outright opposition or
even of different factions among the monks; rather, he alludes to some
who, perhaps as a cover for their own less than wholehearted support,
expressed a cynical conviction that others were just going along with his
22
23
24
66 ROBERT H. JORDAN
instructions. In the midst of a section setting out the proper way to fast,
we find the following:
I know for certain that many of you, and especially the careless,
receive such instructions with disgust saying, 'You labour for
nothing and to no purpose, no one will carry out these instructions
when you have died'.'
Again a little later in the same passage he wrote:
But since there are some people who make the hands of the many
feeble, and in addition to bringing nothing useful into our lives
weaken the zeal of others and deride and ridicule saying, 'Cease
your advice, stop exhorting; they do not wish to heed you; have
nothing to do with them' ... For I know that many have said those
words, since I have seen some of you not receiving my teaching
with enthusiasm, but laughing and deriding it, saying to me, 'They
were completely persuaded, no one scorns your instructions; all
were chastened' 26
It is surely very unusual for the writer of a typikon to acknowledge that

the instructions within it are not popular with some of those who are
supposed to carry them out. In the case of other typika the suspicion has
been that these documents set out what the founder or hegoumenos
wished ideally to happen, and that some of the instructions were possibly
not put into practice or were modified and watered down. Here in the
case of Phoberou reluctance on the part of some at least of the community
to accept the teaching of the hegoumenos is plainly stated. In the face of
this opposition John began by calling on the backing of the apostle Paul:
'Obey your leaders and submit to them for they are keeping watch over
your souls, as men who will have to give account.'27 Then using other
biblical quotations he justified his stand by saying that he as hegoumenos
could not hide behind a plea of ignorance in these matters as perhaps
some of his flock could, and furthermore 'he had been appointed to
correct the ignorance of other people and forewarn them of the approach
of danger from the devil' In a final flourish on this point he bluntly
211
states:
25
26
Pltoberou Typikon, 30.31-31.1, 31.3-7.
27
Heb. 13:17; Phoberou Typikon, 29.19-21.
28
If I scatter the seed and you do not accept it or bear the fruit of
obedience, I will gain from God the reward of my advice and will
receive as much of a recompense as I would have received if you
had listened?'
The other important issue which John addressed and on which he

inserted considerable material into that which he copied from Timothy's
Hypotyposis is sexual temptation. The introduction to this topic is serious
and yet mysterious:
When I have mentioned one thing, I will bring my discourse to an

end. What is this thing? It is something which is greater than all
evils and their chief, and one which causes great harm to our souls,
or to put it more strongly, to our bodies also, and throws the whole
brotherhood into confusion both as regards our wonderful way of
life and the tranquillity of our souls' dwelling on this mountain. 0
John began with the instruction that the community should never possess
female animals inside or outside the monastery. To back up this severe
restriction John did not invoke supporting statements or admonitions
from the early fathers as elsewhere in his Typikon. He says:
For since I have had experience of the harm and damage, both
spiritual and physical, that come from them, I am arranging for
you to escape from their error and deceit, so that you may not be
grieved as I was, and incur great damage and no benefit because of
them."
A very interesting personal reference and one which might provoke wild
speculation. At the very least it raises the possibility that John had been at
one time in another monastery where the presence of female animals had
caused him spiritual unease and even contributed to his departure.
Next, on the question of boys and beardless youths John was not so
uncompromising. He tempered his instruction that beardless youths
should not be accepted, which I am sure was his personal conviction,
with the possibility that the hegoumenos might be obliged from time to
time to accept such a person either for some specific task or to look after
29
30
Phoberou Typikon,75.9-13.
31
68 ROBERT H. JORDAN
elderly monks. However, he stipulated that any such beardless youth,

while ministering to members of the community, must reside on a
particular estate belonging to the monastery until he had grown a beard.
At that point any such young person might be admitted to the
monastery.32 John reinforced his position on the matter of boys and
beardless youths by inserting, without any acknowledgement of its
source, the greater part of a letter of abba Paul Helladikos, who is thought
to have been an ascetic of the sixth century, who came to Palestine from
Greece, became the disciple of Theognius and later wrote his Life.' The
passage inserted by John is not short. It stretches to more than one
hundred and twenty lines of the printed text and is very hard-hitting.39 It
begins with an introductory stretch of teaching on the topic of sexual
temptations and pulls no punches:
Those who say that they associate with women and children and
are not harmed in their souls by this pleasure, but are greatly
strengthened and face with resistance the temptations
of
fornication and the titillations of the flesh, are entirely possessed
by the deceit of demons.35
I am sure that John agreed with this assessment. Paul continues his
teaching by analysing the deceits of the demons and the foolishness
of the
men who put themselves in such a dangerous situation. He continues:
For if he who has looked on a woman to desire her has committed
adultery already with her in his heart 36 it is much more the case
with the one who associates with younger males, whether he is an
old man, or a younger man in the prime of life and at the height of
his powers and seething with fleshly passion.37
After alluding to various warriors of the faith, whom he had known, and
the way that they were tempted regarding their own mothers, sisters,
32
33
On Paul Helladikos, see 'Acta Sancti Theognii episcopi Beteliae',
AnalBoll X (1891),
75-78, and additionally, AnalBoll XI (1892), 476f.
3a
Phoberou Typikon, 77.31-82.8; for the full text of the letter
see Anecdota Byzantina e
codicibus Upsaliensibus, ed. V. Lundstrom (Uppsala, 1902), 17-23.
35
36
Matt. 5:28.
17
brothers and young sons, Paul describes the clever methods employed by
the demon of fornication. To counter them his advice is as follows:
Let us instruct ourselves that whenever we meet a handsome face,

whether they are our brothers or members of our own family, we
do not look clearly at the handsome face, but speak looking down
at the ground and in that way answer those who speak with us.
For the eye of a man is like a shameless dog running in a frenzy
over the faces it sees, and always the demons use this weapon
against us as they also use the hand.38
Paul continues by reminding his readers that it was through the eye that
Eve was tempted by the beauty of the tree in the garden of Eden. To bring
his message home in a striking way Paul then relates the story of the
eunuch Eutropios who renounced the world and became a monk, taking
up residence in a monastery of eunuchs close to the city of Jericho. Some
unnamed wealthy citizen of Jericho came with gifts to the monastery
from time to time and a friendship grew up between him and Eutropios.
When a son was born to the wealthy citizen, he asked Eutropios to act as
the boy's sponsor. After the baptism the wealthy man continued to bring
his son to visit Eutropios, who became exceedingly fond of the boy. When
the boy reached the age of ten years, Eutropios began to entertain
loathsome desires for the boy even to the extent that he wished to have
intercourse with him. In his frantic state of temptation Eutropios had the
good sense to tell the father of the child to take him home and never bring
him to the monastery again. The result for Eutropios was that he was
tempted by the demon with renewed ferocity. Despite inflicting physical
harm on his own body, the evil passion did not go away and Eutropios
experienced erotic dreams and seminal emissions. This lasted for quite a
long time before eventually the dark cloud, as Eutropios described it, was
taken away by God and he gained peace from the pernicious
temptation.39 Within this story about Eutropios is a short section dealing
with the sexuality of eunuchs and containing a very brief reference to the
problem of lesbian relationships in convents.93 Paul Helladikos rounds off
his story of the monk Eutropios by saying:
38
39
For the story of Eutropios, see Phoberou Typikon, 80.18-82.8.
Phoberou Typikon: on the sexuality of eunuchs, see 81.2-6; on lesbian relationships in
convents, see 81.6-11.
70 ROBERT H. JORDAN
Therefore let what happened to Eutropios the eunuch, the priest

and hegottntenos, be instruction for those who say, 'We sleep with
women and live with children and are not harmed'."
At this point John dispensed with the final exhortation in Paul's letter and
continued with his own addition to Timothy's Hypotyposis. And what a
surprise this final section on sexual temptation is! We can almost hear
John's voice as it rises to a crescendo. To gain the full effect of his writing
I must first repeat the end of his extract from Paul Helladikos:
Therefore let what happened to Eutropios the eunuch, the priest

and hegoumenos, be instruction for those who say, 'We sleep with
women and live with children and are not harmed'. With women
and children! What am I saying? Sometimes we are even tempted
with regard to irrational animals themselves, and this we know
from many who have made confession to us and from the story
which will now be told.42
This story concerns a monk who had gone on a journey with a priest from
the monastery of Ta Kellia and had then been instructed by the priest to
return with the female donkey on which the priest had ridden. On the
way back the monk was tempted by the devil seven times to commit sin
with the donkey, but he resisted. When he arrived, his geron praised him
and, since he had the gift of second sight, told him that he had seen seven
crowns on the monk's head as he arrived. Once this story is finished John
concluded this section on sexual temptation with a short homiletic
passage of his own.
In view of this very unusual collection of material I think we have to
ask ourselves why John felt it was necessary to discuss this topic in so
much graphic detail. Had some monasteries grown notoriously lax about
such things? Or was this the result of an unfortunate experience John had
had in another community? Incidentally, it hardly comes as a surprise to
learn that, when copying out the section from Timothy's Hypotyposis on
the numbers of brothers that were to occupy a cell, John changed
Timothy's stipulation of two to a cell to three to a cell.`
John's arrival at the monastery of Phoberou in October 1112 came
soon after the death of the patriarch Nicholas. In his Typikon John

On this, compare Evergetis Typikon, ed. Gautier, 67.917 with Phoberou Typikon, 58.7.
acknowledged that it was Nicholas who had confirmed the independence

of the monastery." The final years of Nicholas's patriarchate had seen the
upheavals on Mount Athos caused in part by the presence of Vlach
shepherds with their families and flocks, but encompassing some other
issues as well. This tangled episode, with the bitter recriminations of
opposing factions amongst the monks, the appeals to the emperors
Alexios I and John II and the mysterious entole which caused so much
resentment, is to be found in the notorious compilation entitled the
Diegesis Merike.95 One of the issues dealt with there and one which
provoked a deputation to go and lobby the emperor Alexios I is precisely
one of those about which John felt so strongly, namely: whether boys or
beardless youths were to be accepted into monasteries. Nor was this
matter easily settled; for we find that after the reign of Alexios I when
John II was emperor, again an accusation was made by the metropolitans
that the monks on Mount Athos were receiving beardless youths and
eunuchs. On this topic the patriarch Nicholas was uncompromising, as
we gather from the pittakion allegedly issued by him:
We have heard that there are beardless youths and boys on the
Holy Mountain, and seemingly the dogmas of our fathers have
been overturned backwards ... What did the fathers say? 'Do not
approach a boy, do not converse with him when you are sated, and
do not kiss him in church.' Are we to do the deeds of the Ninevites
and not suffer the fate of the Sodomites?46
According to the lysis of the later patriarch Chariton, excommunication

was pronounced on monks of Mount Athos by Nicholas when he was
patriarch because of eunuchs, beardless youths and animals.47
" Phoberou Typikon, 51.32-34.

'S For the text of this, see P. Meyer, Haupturkunden fir die Geschichte der Athoskloster
(Leipzig, 1894), 163-184; a new text, English translation and commentary is currently being
prepared in Belfast which will be included in M. Mullett et al., eds, Alexios I Komnenos: Texts
(Belfast, forthcoming). For recent studies of this document see R. Morris, Monks and Laymen
in Byzantium, 843-1118 (Cambridge, 1995), 275, 277-278, 280, 287; M. Angold, Church and
Society in Byzantium under the Comneni, 1081-1261 (Cambridge, 1995), 280-283; D.
Krausmuller, 'The Athonite monastic tradition during the eleventh and early twelfth
centuries', in A. Bryer and M. Cunningham, eds, Mount Athos and Byzantine Monasticism
(Aldershot, 1996), 57-65.
46
Meyer, Haupturkunden,175.10-21, translation by M. Mullett and M. McGann.
Meyer, Haupturkunden, 183.2-5; 183.29-30.
72 ROBERT H. JORDAN
John's other main preoccupation, the requirement to fast on

Wednesdays and Fridays, is also found in the Diegesis Merike, even
though it only merits a short remark in passing. In the description of the
gathering around the deathbed of the patriarch Nicholas, on the matter of
fasting during Lent and on Wednesdays and Fridays the patriarch is
reported to have said the following:
Is fasting found in priests or emperors? All of them, both the

nomothetai themselves and the rhetors of the churches, have taken
refuge in illness and in no way is it to be found unless there is
somewhere an enkleistos or a hermit, but even these sparsely."
Note the comment that leading legal and ecclesiastical figures were
avoiding the obligation to fast by resorting to illness.
It is time now to pull these strands together and see what can
realistically be said about this mysterious figure. To begin with, he was
brought up by a devout mother and no doubt influenced by his
grandmother too. Then, from what he says in the Typikon for his
monastery, it is likely that before he came to Phoberou he had been
practising the ascetic life, possibly in some other community. To judge by
the similarity of his concerns to those which surfaced in the disputes on
Mount Athos at the beginning of the twelfth century, John supported
those who thought that monastic communities should follow a much
stricter ascetic regime than was generally current. We are on firmer
ground with his powerful friends in Constantinople and elsewhere, both
those on the fringes of the imperial family and those in ecclesiastical
circles. In one revealing sentence in his Typikon we learn that John's own
spiritual father and sponsor, Kyr Luke, the metropolitan of Mesembria,
had been hegoumenos of Phoberou at one time.49 It was probably through
the influence of this man that John was made hegoumenos and was able to
obtain confirmation of the independence of the monastery from the
patriarch Nicholas. Apart from having his own spiritual father as an ally,
John also managed to obtain the financial support of the sebastos
Nikephoros Botaneiates and more particularly that of his wife Eudokia
Komnene. A continuing connection with this imperial family was ensured
over this period by the fact that one of the monks in Phoberou was the
son of Nikephoros and Eudokia. The latter's benevolence towards this
monastery continued even after John had died, for in October 1143 it is
Meyer, Haupturkunden,179.34-180.2, translation by M. Mullett and M. McGann.

recorded in the Typikon that she had just given four litrai of gold
nomismata for the purchase of landed property. The paragraph recording
the donation is a late insertion into the Typikon in a hand other than that
of its author. This enables us to be sure that hegoumenos John was dead by
October 1143. The year of his death is not known; all we know is that he
was to be commemorated on the 16th of December. From the construction
and content of his Typikon, John clearly considered himself an outsider in
the monastic practice then current; and he was not the only one.
From the wilderness of Palestine John the Baptist had issued a call to
repentance and traditional holiness. John of Phoberou, too, from his
wilderness issued a call to fasting, sexual purity and traditional monastic
practice. How many heard his message we shall never know; but I feel
sure that it was not the crowds that we are told flocked to hear his great
namesake.5o
Cf. Matt. 3.5; Mark 1:5; Luke 3:7.

6. The Hermit as Stranger in the Desert
Nancy Sevicenko
As Cyril of Scythopolis relates the story, Saints Euthymios and

Theoktistos were wandering in the Judean wilderness northwest of the
Dead Sea in the early years of the fifth century, when they spotted the
perfect place to live, a huge and marvellous cave high in the cliffs of a
perilous gorge. Together they undertook the steep ascent.
Overjoyed as if the cave had been prepared for them by God, they
made it their home, feeding on the plants that happened to grow
there. The cave had earlier been a lair of wild animals; but tamed
by the holy hymns and ceaseless prayers of these pious men, it was
sanctified by becoming a church of God.'
A traditional desert story, we might say: the hermit who leaves the
civilized world to find a remote dwelling place, who depends on wild
plants for his food, who sings and prays until the wildness of the site is
tamed, the beasts no further threat, the cave transformed into a church,
the desert a Paradise.2 Here, to play with the themes of this collection of
essays, the insider has willingly become an outsider, in order to become
that ultimate insider, the man of God.
In this essay, I would like to look at some of these stories from a
slightly different angle, and to see the desert father of the fourth and fifth
century not as insider or outsider with respect to his own culture, but as
an intruder into another coherent, if hitherto unfamiliar, world, that of
the desert and its animal population. For, however much it might have
' Cyril of Scythopolis, Life of Euthymios 8, R.M. Price, tr., The Lives of the Monks of
Palestine (Kalamazoo, 1991), 11.
' A. Guillaumont, 'La conception du desert chez le moines d'Egypte', Revue de
l'histoire des religions 188 (1975), 3-21; B. Flusin, Miracles et histoire dans !'oeuvre de Cyrille de
Scythopolis (Paris, 1983).
75
76 NANCY EVCENKO
seemed the case to others, the saint was not going into a wasteland, into a
valley of death, but into a region that was indeed inhabited - just not
inhabited by human beings. His ability to deal with the creatures of the
desert, so praised by his biographers as a sign of sanctity, was, I would
argue, the inevitable consequence of this choice of habitat and of long
years of living amongst them.
Many of the stories about the saint in the desert strain credulity, either
because of the fauna, or because of the type of actions, involved.3 Many,
however, involve encounters with animals that are native to this
landscape - serpents, hippos, crocodiles, hoofed creatures such as
gazelles and wild goats, hyenas, and lions' - and the narratives bear
plausible witness to the daily challenges faced by man and beast alike
when co-existing in such an environment.
Take, for example, Antony's attempt to plant a garden so that he could
make his own bread and grow vegetables to offer his visitors. To his
dismay, the 'beasts of the wilderness' - probably flocks of wild goats or
gazelle - kept damaging his crop.' This experience, familiar to any rural
gardener, may have been little more than an irritant, but other encounters
could be considerably more hazardous for the aspiring desert hermit.6
3 One of the earliest, and most popular of these texts, Athanasios's Life of Antony,
resounds with the noisy and incessant clamour of demonic creatures who torment the saint
with their cries, filth and temptations. But the species that bombard him are animals that in
reality could never have survived on their own in the desert for more than a day, such as
bulls, bears and horses: Athanasios, Life of Antony 9, 39, R.C. Gregg, tr., Athanasius: The Life
of Anthony and the Letter to Marcellinus (New York and Toronto, 1980), 38, 60. In the Historia
Monachoncm, there are plenty of tall tales: holy men are said to rip open snakes with their
bare hands, walk over rivers on the backs of crocodiles, or even ride them across, as did
Abbot Helle to bring back a lazy and fearful priest needed to serve Helle's community of
monks. Historia Monachorum in Aegypto, XlI.6-7, N. Russell, tr., The Lives of the Desert Fathers
(Oxford and Kalamazoo, 1981), 91. See also the Life of Antony 15, Gregg, 43; Palladius,
Historia Lausiaca 18, R.T. Meyer, tr., The Lausiac History (New York 1965), 61, and the Life of
Pachomios, Flusin, Miracles, 167.
' On the fauna of the region see F.S. Bodenheimer, Prodromus faunae Palestinae. Essai
sur les elements zoographiques et historiques du sud-ouest du sous-regne palearctique. [=
Memoires presentes a l'institut d'Egypte ... 23] (Cairo, 1937), esp. 6, 48, 51. Bodenheimer's
zone III, 'saharo-sindienne' comprises Egypt, Southeast Palestine and Syria.
' Life of Antony 50, Gregg, 69. Antony responds
by taking hold of one of the animals
and saying to all of them, "'Why do you hurt me when I do you no injury? Leave, and in
the name of the Lord, do not come near here any longer." From then on, as if being afraid
of the command, they did not come near the place.'
6 I exclude here episodes that involve 'rogue' animals
(such as the marauding hippo
in Historia Monachorum IV, Russell, 66), which the saint, very much like a game warden in
Africa today, was summoned by villagers to destroy. For a modem experience with rogue
THE HERMIT IN THE DESERT 77
There were vipers dozing on the night path, ready to strike if disturbed,
or scorpions underfoot at prayers.' But the chief danger was lions.
The number and variety of stories involving lions in these early texts
confirms what we know from other sources, that lions were no rarity in
the landscapes of Egypt, Palestine and Syria in this period." Encounters
were especially likely in open country when their respective routes led
man and beast to cross trails. Abba Aaron, for example, had been a
soldier. 'An order came to Abba Aaron to take the troops and go with
them (to another city). When he left the city, a lion met him on the road
that evening and wished to seize him.' Aaron struck a quick personal
bargain with Christ, promising that he would abandon everything and
become a monk, if he could only come out alive. Then 'I made ready the
spear in my hand. I drove it through the lion and he died.'9
The search for living quarters could also lead to an encounter with a
lion, for the cave eyed with favour by a saint could well turn out to be
already occupied. St Sabas, says Cyril of Scythopolis,
settled in a desert spot by the river called Gadaron, and stayed

there for a short time in a cave where an enormous lion was wont
to withdraw. Around midnight this lion returned and found the
blessed one sleeping. Taking hold of his patchwork habit with his
mouth, it began to pull at him, striving to remove him from the
cave. When he got up and began the night psalmody, the lion went
lions, see G. Adamson, A Lifetime with Lions (as in note 15 below), esp. 93-105, 119-128,
201-210.
' Theodoret of Cyrrhus, Historia religiosa XXII.5, R.M. Price, tr., A History of the Monks
of Syria (Kalamazoo, 1985), 151 (Thalassios); Palladius, Historia Lausiaca 48, tr. Meyer, 131.
8 See Bodenheimer, note 4 above. For maps showing the range of lions in antiquity,
see J. Rudnai, The Social Life of the Lion (Wallingford, PA, 1973), 8, based on C.A.
Guggisberg, Simba (Cape Town, 1961), unavailable to me. There were lions in North Africa
and the Middle East until well into the nineteenth century. For additional sources involving
rather routine encounters with lions, see Palladius, Historia Lausiaca 52, Meyer, 133;
Theodoret, Historia religiosa VI.10, Price, 66; John Moschos, Pratum spirituale 92, 125, J.
Wortley, tr., The Spiritual Meadow of John Moschos (Kalamazoo, 1992), 74, 102; Cyril of
Scythopolis, Life of Sabas 23, Price, 116; and the story of the elder with the lion cubs, 84-85
below. See also J. Wortley, 'Two Unpublished Psychophelitic Tales', GRBS 37 (1996), 281-
300, esp. 288-300. The very flatness with which some of the stories are related adds to their
credibility, e.g. Moschos 92: 'One day he (brother George, a field labourer) was pasturing
swine in Phasaelis when two lions came to seize a pig. He took up his staff and chased
them as far as the Jordan.'
9 Histories of the Monks of Upper Egypt by Paphnutius, 87, T. Vivian, tr., 115. Aaron kept
his promise, and immediately began a career as a monk.
78 NANCY eEVCENKO
out and waited outside the cave; when the old man had completed
the office, it came in and began to pull at him again. So, with the
lion pressing him to leave the cave, the old man said to it in
confidence of spirit, 'The cave is spacious enough to provide
lodging for both of us, for we both have the one Creator. If you
want, stay here; if not, get out.' Then he adds: 'I myself was
fashioned by the hand of God and privileged to receive his image.'
On hearing this, the lion felt some kind of shame and withdrew.10
The situation was defused: Cyril credits the saint's holy routine and the
force of his argument, although we might prefer to stress the saint's
acquired experience and confidence in the handling of desert creatures.
Whatever the interpretation, the encounter itself is perfectly plausible.
The occasional disaster even lends credence to the stories as a whole. One
saint, despite long years in the desert, is reported to have been devoured
by wild beasts; a long-past sin had to be unearthed to justify this
untoward end."
The saint ate no meat, and so did not compete with the predators;
often he 'grazed', eating nothing but raw vegetables. He lived in caves, as
they did; his hair grew long and covered his body, and he began to
resemble physically the animal he had displaced.12 His ascetic practices
enabled him to overlook or even welcome any pain that an animal may
have caused him.13 His confidence was surely bolstered by his faith: his
faith in God, in his own sense of superiority over creatures not made, as
he was, in the image of God, and in his own ascetic practices in which
bodily harm was often something actually sought. But it derived too from
his long experience in the wild. With his insight into animal behaviour,
and the confidence that gave him, the saint could stare down even lions,
and compel them to step aside, as did john the anchorite when meeting a
10 Life of Sabas 33, Price, 128.

Moschos, Pratum spirituale 167, Wortley, 137.
12
See P. Brown, The Body and Society. Men, Women and Sexual Renunciation in Early
Christianity/ (New York, 1988), esp. 213-240; Flusin, Miracles, esp. 124-125, 176f, and the
study cited in note 2 above. Macarius, says Palladius, was so bitten by mosquitoes that
when he returned from his self-enforced stay in a marsh his flesh was so swollen 'he was
recognized as Macarius only by his voice', Historia Lausiaca 18, Meyer, 59. See also C.
Williams, 'Oriental Affinities of the Legend of the Hairy Anchorite', Illinois Studies in
Language and Literature 10:2 (1925), 11:4 (1926).
13
For example, Theodoret of Cyrrhus on Thalassios, as in note 7 above.
lion on a track too narrow to allow both to pass." Such 'charisma', such
confidence in the face of wild animals, is something remarked of special
individuals by African game wardens, big game hunters, wildlife
photographers and zoo-keepers, and reported with comparable awe.15
The saint's fearless behaviour could inspire others to surprising acts of
courage even when he was not himself around: according to Cyril of
Scythopolis, some thieves met a lion on the road, and managed to drive it
away by crying out the name of St Sabas; some disciples of John the
Hesychast in the same predicament called John's name, and feeling the
presence of the saint between them, had the assurance to stand their
ground, and the lion fled.16
The animals seem in their turn to have accepted the hermit intruder so
well that when occasionally a deeply penitent or suicidal saint actually
hoped they would be wild and vicious, these creatures foiled him by their
gentleness or indifference. According to Palladius, a demon kept
attacking Pachon so hard and long that he wanted to die:
I went out then, and while going about the desert, I came across a
hyena's cave. Here I placed myself naked one day in hopes that the
" Moschos, Pratum spirituale 181, Wortley, 150-151. 'Stepping aside' is considered a
form of submission in modem analyses of lion behaviour; see Rudnai, Social Life (as in note
8 above), 48.
15 See especially the memoirs of M. Cowie, the founder of the Kenyan park system, I
Walk with Lions (New York, 1961) and those of G. Adamson, a game warden in Kenya, A
Lifetime with Lions (New York 1968). George Adams and his wife adopted and reared lion
cubs which lived with them in their camp in the bush: see J. Adamson, Born Free. A Lioness
of Two Worlds (New York, 1960), and Living Free. The Story of Elsa and her Cubs (New York,
1961). On staring down a lion, see M. Johnson, Lion. African Adventure with the King of Beasts
(New York and London, 1929), esp. 157, and Cowie, I walk, 44-45. For other stories, see C.
Kearton, In the Land of the Lion (New York, 1930), esp. 21-47. The author of a technical
handbook for zoo-keepers states, 'Self-confidence is perhaps the single most important
attribute that can be developed by the restrainer. This confidence can be acquired by
experience, though some individuals seem to possess such ability almost innately'; M.
Fowler, Restraint and Handling of Wild and Domestic Animals, second edition (Ames, IA,
1978), 8. Fowler cites the case of a man who could enter an enclosure of 'large adult,
untrained wild cats, including tigers and lions. These cats would wait in line to place their
forepaw upon his shoulders and lick his face ... This man has absolute confidence in his
ability to work with these cats. There is no evidence of fear-mastery or dominance over the
cats ... Certainly it would be foolhardy for a person lacking the great confidence and
behavioural skills of this individual to enter such an enclosure. Nonetheless it vividly
illustrates what can be accomplished by someone with confidence and skill.'
ib Life of Sabas 34 and Life of John the Hesychast 17; Price, 129 and 234.
80 NANCY EVCENKO
wild beasts would devour me. Evening came and ... the beasts,
male and female, came out. They smelled me and licked me all
over from head to foot. Just when I was expecting to be eaten, they
left me."
And Moschos tells of Abba Paul whose mules years before had trampled
and killed a child, a tragic event that led Paul to flee into the wilderness
and become an anchorite:
There was a lion nearby, and each day, Abba Paul would go into its
den, teasing and provoking it to jump up and devour him - but the
lion did him no harm whatsoever. When he realized that he was
not succeeding, Abba Paul said to himself: 'I will lie down on the
lion's path; then, when he comes on his way down to drink at the
river, he will devour me.' He lay there and after a little while, the
lion came by. And as though it were a human, it very carefully
stepped over the elder without even touching him.18
As time passed, the solitary hermit came to welcome animal companions.

In the text of the Historia Monachorum we hear of Abba Theon:
They say that he used to go out of his cell at night and keep
company with wild animals, giving them to drink from the water
which he had. Certainly one could see the tracks of antelope and
wild asses and gazelle and other animals near his hermitage. These
creatures delighted him always.19
Jerome in his Vita Pauli describes how Antony headed into the farthest
desert in search of the hermit Paul of Thebes 2° Having spotted a wolf
disappearing into an opening in a rock, Antony follows and discovers
17 Palladius, Historia Lausiaca 23, Meyer, 82. Pachon tries again, picking up an asp and
putting it to himself, but again to no avail. The actions could be seen as suicidal, otherwise
rather rarely reported: see Wortley, 'Psychophelitic Tales', 284-288.
1B Pratunt spirituale 101, Wortley, 81. Moschos concludes, 'Then the elder knew that
God had forgiven him his sin.'
Historia Monachorunt VI.4, Russell, 68.
10 Life of Paul of Thebes by Jerome, in C. White, tr., Early Christian Lives (Harmondsworth,
1998), 75-84. Antony met much earlier a centaur and then a satyr, traditional denizens of
the desert. On Jerome's literary use of these pagan creatures, see P.C. Miller, 'Jerome's
Centaur: A Hyper-Icon of the Desert', Journal of Early Christian Studies 4 (1996), 209-233. I
thank Georgia Frank for calling my attention to this article.
Paul's cave and meets his desert companions.2t As the two men dine
together, Paul's raven brings a loaf of bread (a patent reference to Elijah,
though the raven here is smart enough to double the usual portion since
Antony has arrived). Later, after Paul has died and Antony has returned
to find the body, two lions suddenly emerge out of nowhere and roar
their grief over Paul's corpse. They then scratch up the earth just enough
to enable Antony, who came without a shovel, to be able to bury the body
properly. Finally the lions come over to Antony with 'their necks bent
and their ears laid back, and licked his hands and feet'. He interprets this
as their asking for his blessing, and so, praising Christ 'because dumb
animals, too, were able to understand that there was a God', he asks
Christ to bless them. He dismisses them with a wave of his hand, at
which point they return to the desert.22
The animals were even put - to use. Hermits, and monastic

communities as well, had lions, probably raised as cubs, to protect their
gardens, flocks and even the monks themselves from human marauders.
Cyril of Scythopolis tells of his own visit to St Cyriacus at Sousakim. As
he drew near the saint's cave, Cyril was terrified to find a lion there,
though he says it let him pass when it saw where he was heading.
Cyriacus greeted Cyril warmly and reassured him: 'Have no fear, my
child. This lion is my faithful servant here, guarding my herbs from the
wild goats.' The men settle down to a meal.
While we were eating, the lion came and stood in front of us;
rising, the elder gave it a piece of bread and sent it to guard the
herbs. The elder said to me, 'It not only guards the herbs but also
wards off brigands and barbarians.'
21 Life of Paul 9, White, 79. Paul at first rebuffs Antony, who responds sharply, 'Why do
you, who welcome animals, drive a person away?'
u Life of Paul 16, White, 83. See also Wortley, 'Psychophelitic Tales', 289-292. The story
evidently influenced Sophronios's account of the burial of Mary of Egypt (39), in M. Kouli,
translator, in Alice-Mary Talbot, ed., Holy Women of Byzantium. Ten Saints' Lives in English
Translation (Washington, DC, 1996), 91-92. In connection with the lions' actions here, it is
amusing to read modern specialists on lion behaviour analysing 'headrubbing', 'bending of
head', 'scraping' (the latter often takes place after an encounter with another creature) and
'digging': see Rudnai, Social Life (as in note 8 above), 48; G. Schaller, The Serengeti Lion. A
Study of Predator-Prey Relations (Chicago, 1972), 85-92, 116-118, 245. To have known that
bending of the head is 'performed by a lower ranking animal when meeting a higher
ranking one' (Rudnai, 48) would doubtless have pleased Antony and his successors.
82 NANCY SEVCENKO
Cyril stays a bit longer, and then departs. 'After leaving him, we found
the lion sitting on the road and eating a wild goat. When the lion saw us
standing there and not daring to advance, it left its prey and withdrew
until we had passed.'
One of these early lion stories was taken over with relatively few
alterations into the life of St Jerome.24 As Moschos first tells it, a lion
suffering great pain with a reed stuck in his paw approached St
Gerasimos, a fifth-century Palestinian father who had founded a lavra
near the Jordan.25 Gerasimos removed the reed, and won the loyalty of
the lion. It then hung around the lavra, where it was fed and given the job
of escorting to pasture the monastery's donkey which, when on duty,
carried jugs of water up from the river. One day the lion fell asleep on the
job, and Arab merchants riding by on camels stole the donkey. When the
lion returned to the monastery without his charge, Gerasimos accused
him of having devoured it. The story had a happy ending, though, for the
Arab merchants chanced to pass by again, and the lion, recognizing his
donkey, ravaged the camel train and brought back to the monastery not
only the donkey but three of the camels as well. When Gerasimos died,
the lion was inconsolable, and throwing itself down near the tomb,
expired.26 A comparable lion story is told of St Sabas, though here the lion
actually does devour the donkey.27
23
Life of Cyriacus, 15-16, Price, 255-256. John the Hesychast had a lion to protect him
from Saracens: Life of John the Hesychast 13, Price, 231. Abba Stephen had a leopard for the
same purpose, to guard his garden from choirogrylloi (rock hyraxes, little herbivorous
African mammals looking rather like guinea-pigs), Wortley, 'Psychophelitic Tales', 295-296
(who calls them rock-rabbits).
24 G. Ring, 'St Jerome extracting the thorn from the lion's foot', Art Bulletin 27 (1945),
188-194.
zs
Moschos, Pratum spirituale 107, Wortley, 86-88. Gerasimos is mentioned briefly in
several of Cyril of Scythopolis's Lives, though never in connection with a lion.
26
Moschos's story of Gerasimos and the lion was later incorporated into the life of
Gerasimos written by a monk at his lavra on the Jordan, in the seventh century. See H.
Gregoire, 'La vie anonyme de S. Gerasime', BZ 13 (1904), 114-135; Flusin, Miracles, 35-40.
The Gerasimos story was illustrated in Byzantium, though not before the fourteenth
century; see E. Bakalova, 'Scenes from the Life of St. Gerasimos of Jordan in Ivanovo', and
S. Tomekovi6, 'Note sur saint Gerasime dans fart byzantin', both in Zbornik za likovne
umetnosti 21 (1985), 105-121 and 277-284; E. Haustein-Bartsch, "'So gehorchten die wilden
Tiere Adam." Zur Ikonographie einer Ikone des heiligen Gerasimos mit dem Lowen',
Studien zur byzantinische Kunstgeschichte. Festschrift Pr Horst Hallensleben (Amsterdam,
1995), 259-278.
27 Cyril's Life of Sabas, 49, Price, 148-149.
This story reminds us of the vivid report provided by the Piacenza

Pilgrim, a sober gentleman who travelled from Italy to the Jordan area
around 570, not long after Cyril's day.
We discovered a monastery of women in those parts, more than

sixteen or seventeen of them who were in a desert place, and given
food by the Christians. They had one small ass to do their heavy
work for them, and they used to give food to a lion, tame from the
time it was a cub, but huge and terrifying to look at. Indeed when
we drew near the cells it roared, and all our animals pissed, while
some of them even fell to the ground. They also told us that the
lion went with the little ass to pasture. I made this visit with a real
Christian whom I helped in making the nuns an offer of a hundred
shillings for the two animals, but they would not accept ...
His friend is so keen on obtaining the pair of animals for himself that for
two whole days he orders all sorts of additional things be bought and
presented to the nuns - cassocks, vegetables, oil, dates and baskets of
roast chickpeas - all in vain. 'We were unable to soothe his
disappointment and grief,' says the pilgrim of Piacenza. 'All he could say
was "Devil take it, what's the use of being a Christian?" 28
Despite the affectionate relationship between hermit and desert
beast, the relationship could be strained by divergent conceptions as to
what constituted the animal's proper diet. The lion that guarded
Cyriacus's garden and ate the saint's bread was later discovered down
the path by the departing Cyril of Scythopolis, supplementing its diet by
devouring a wild goat 29 Cyril himself makes no comment, but the Early
Christian hermit was generally unwilling to condone such carnivorous
tendencies, and required of his companion Christian renunciation on a
par with his own. Abba Paul, says Moschos, thought he had a deal with
his lion whereby he would continue to feed it if it would forego eating
meat. But one day it came in, its muzzle stained with blood. Paul rebuked
it, saying:
28 J.Wilkinson, Jerusalem Pilgrims before the Crusades (Warminster, 1977), 85-87.

According to A. Jeannin, lions are easiest to tame at one to one-and-one-half years of age,
when they readily attach themselves to animals of other species, such as dogs, goats or
sheep, and become their inseparable companions: A. Jeannin, La faun africaine (Paris, 1951),
78-79.
29 See above, 82.
84 NANCY EVCENKO
'Never again will I feed you the food of the fathers, carnivore! Get
away from here.' He would not go away, so I took a rope, folded it
up into three and struck it three blows with it. Then it went away.3°
St Gerasimos too accused his lion of devouring the donkey he was set to
protect.31
The authors of the early texts provide various explanations for the
saint's success in the encounters described here. He is said to be able to
dispatch animals by making the sign of the cross; he may invoke the
name of Christ, basing his authority on Christ's gift to his disciples of
power over snakes and scorpions (Luke 10:19), or on God's intervention
to subdue the lions that were to devour Daniel (Dan. 6:22, 27).32
Sometimes the authors have the saint address the animal he wishes to
sway or evict with the argument that both are servants of the same
master, products of the same creator, and should therefore refrain from
harming one another.33 Theodoret of Cyrrhus may be the first to suggest
that a saint has actually earned his charisma, his special power over
animals. Theodoret says of a certain Symeon who lived in a little cave and
ate only wild plants, 'This toil won him also the gift of rich grace from
above, even to the extent of exercising authority over the most bold and
fearsome of wild animals.'34
Moschos suggests that our fear of animals is rooted in our sin. There
was an
elder living in the Lavra of Abba Peter who would often go off and
stay on the banks of the holy Jordan. There he found a lion's den in
which he installed himself. One day he found two lion-cubs in the
Pratuni spirituale 163, Wortley, 134.

See above, 82. Parallels for many aspects of the affectionate, but occasionally
uneasy, relationship between hermit and desert beasts can be found in stories of modem
Africa mentioned above (note 15). The Adamsons did not share the Christian hermit's
abhorrence of carnivorous behaviour, and actively encouraged their tame lions to hunt
freely. But they did face a similar practical problem: how to prevent their lions from
attacking the pack mules and donkeys at the camp, G. Adamson, passim.
J2 Sign of the cross: Theodoret, Historia religiosa 11.6, EI.7, Price, 26, 40. Asks to leave:
Historia Monachoruni IV.3, Russell, 66; Moschos, Pratum spirituale 58, Wortley 45-46. Luke:
Historia Monachorum IX, Russell, 80-81; Cyril of Scythopolis, Life of Sabas 12, Price, 104. Also
invoked in this context is Psalm 90 (91):13.
" Life of Theodosios by Theodore of Petra 80, A: J. Festugiere, tr., Les moines d'Orient
111:3 (Paris 1963),147.
" This Symeon was able to provide a pair of lions to escort a couple of lost travellers
safely back to the main road; Theodoret, Historia religiosa VI. 2, Price, 63-64.
cave. Wrapping them up in his cloak, he took them to church. 'If

we keep the commandments of our Lord Jesus Christ,' he said,
'these animals would fear us. But because of our sins we have
become slaves and it is rather we who fear them.' Greatly edified,
the brethren returned to their caves.35
Cyril of Scythopolis is apparently the first of these authors to develop to

any extent the argument that God is restoring to the saint the dominion
he had given to Adam over the animals in Paradise, a dominion that had
been lost through the fall.
In addition to the other charisms possessed by the godly

Euthymios, he also received this one from God - the grace of living
with carnivorous and poisonous animals without being harmed by
them. This should be doubted by no one initiated into holy
Scripture, who has precise knowledge that when God dwells in a
man and rests upon him, all beings are subject to him, as they were
36
to Adam before he transgressed God's commandment
And, after describing the lion's grief and death at the grave of Gerasimos,
Moschos says, 'This did not take place because the lion had a rational
soul, but because it is the will of God to glorify those who glorify him,
and to show how the beasts were in subjection to Adam before he
disobeyed the commandments and fell from the comfort of Paradise.'37 In
Cyril too we first meet the other argument of man's superiority, 'I myself
was fashioned by the hand of God and privileged to receive his image':
this was voiced by St Sabas, as we have seen, in displacing the lion from
his cave.
Behind the growing belief in man's right to dominion over the

animals, beneath the layers of interpretation, beneath the stem verbal
admonitions which these Early Christian saints are said to have
addressed to the animals they met in their new milieu, there are echoes of
actual encounters between man and beast. These encounters, especially
those with lions, were not the inventions of hagiographers or theologians,
35 Pratum spirituale 18, Wortley,13.

36 Life of Euthymios 14, Price, 18-19. Despite this statement, no animal stories are
attributed to Euthymios: his speciality was the weather, rather a different matter. On Adam
and the animals, see H. Maguire, 'Adam and the Animals: Allegory and Literal Sense in
Early Christian Art', DOP 41 (1987), 363-373, with further references.
Pratum spirituale 107, Wortley, 88.
See above, 78.
86 NANCY EVCENKO
but episodes that reflect the environment of a very particular time and
place in human history: the lands of Egypt, Syria and Palestine in a
period when lions still roamed and hermit saints, moving into their
territory, had to find a modus vivendi with their animal neighbours if they
were to pursue the life they had chosen. Unlike later Byzantine hermits
such as Hosios Loukas or Ioannikios, who lived long after lions had
vanished from their regions, and who were anyway frequently on the
move, these early saints lived in lion country and in one place for a very
long time, sometimes even a lifetime.39 The long years of co-existence with
these creatures led to a special familiarity with animal behaviour, and
this, when joined to their faith in God's protection and in their own
superiority, gave these Early Christian saints their fearless confidence,
their special charisma, that so impressed their less experienced
contemporaries.
Though the hermit and the desert creatures were strangers at first,
they nevertheless developed over time ways to accommodate to each
other's presence. In the process they, and their astonished biographers,
gave us the model by which all ideal Christian encounters between man
and beast came eventually to be measured and interpreted.
" The restless Hosios Loukas's main problems were keeping deer out of his garden
and avoiding the occasional viper on the trail. Luke addresses the deer with the familiar
line-up of arguments: we have the same master, the same creator you and I, but I, you see,
bear the likeness of God, C. and W. Connor, The Life and Miracles of St. Luke (Brookline, MA,
1994), 31, 65.
7. Exclues et Alienees:
les Femmes dans la Tradition Canonique Byzantine*
Joelle Beaucamp
A Byzance, le droit imperial, fonde sur les compilations de Justinien,

exclut les femmes de 1'exercice de 1'autorite publique et leur interdit tout
role qui impliquerait de sortir de la sphere familiale pour assumer,
publiquement, une responsabilite vis-a-vis d'autrui; cette mise a 1'ecart,
dont la composante spatiale transparait dans certaines lois, a tendance a
s'accentuer dans la legislation posterieure au Vie siecle, comme en
temoigne une Novelle de Leon VI.' Plutot que de revenir sur ce sujet, je
voudrais analyser ici une autre composante du droit byzantin, moins
etudi'e de ce point de vue: les canons reconnus par 1'Eglise et leurs
commentaires.
La litterature canonique offre un double interet, historique et
ideologique. Elle couvre l'ensemble de la periode byzantine, avec
Il n'existe pas d'edition satisfaisante de l'ensemble du corpus canonique byzantin.

La plus communement utilisee est celle de G.A. Ralles et M. Potles, Evvrayua arvv BeIwv rcai
iepd v,cavbwov, I-VI (Athens, 1852-1859, reimpr. 1966) (desormais RP). Le Nomocanon en
XIV titres se trouve aussi dans G. Voellus et H. Iustellus, Bibliotheca iuris canonici veteris, II
(Paris, 1661), 785-1140 (repris dans PG 104, 976-1217) et J.B. Pitra, Mon, II, 433-640 (la
meilleure edition); l'ensemble des canons dans P.-P. Joannou, Discipline gene'rale antique
(1Ve-XI? s.), I-II (Grottaferrata, 1962-1963); les canons des Apotres dans J.B. Pitra, Mon, I,1-
44 et dans Const. App., ed. M. Metzger, III (Paris, 1987, SC 336), 274-309; ceux de Basile de
Cesaree dans Bas., ep. 188, 199 et 217, ed. Y. Courtonne, II (Paris 1961), 121-131, 155-164 et
209-217; les canons conciliaires dans J.D. Mansi, Sacrorum conciliorum nova et amplissima
collectio (Florence, a partir de 1759); les commentaires d'Aristenos, Zonaras et Balsamon
dans PG 137-138 et le traite de Blastares dans PG 144, 960-145, 212. Sur 1'histoire de ces
textes, voir N. Van Der Wal et J.H.A. Lolcin, Historiae iuris graeco-romani delineatio
(Groningen, 1985).
' Nov. 48, ed. P. Noailles et A. Dain (Paris, 1944), 186-191. Voir J. Beaucamp, 'La
situation juridique de la femme a Byzance', CahCivM 20 (1977), 149-150 et 166-167, Le
statut de la femme a Byzance (4e-7e siecle), I (Paris, 1990), 29-45, et 'Les femmes et I'espace
public a Byzance: le cas des tribunaux' DOP 52 (1998), 129-145..
Ltd, Gower House, Croft Road, Aldershot, Hampshire, Gull 3HR, Great Britain.
87
88 JOELLE BEAUCAMP
quelques temps forts: le we siecle, ou sont elabores des canons d'origines

tres diverses (attribues aux Apotres ou emanant de conches
oecumeniques ou locaux, ou encore de Peres de 1'Eglise); la fin du VIIe,
quand le concile in Trullo formule de nombreux canons disciplinaires; le
Xlle siecle, quand Aristenos, Zonaras et Balsamon redigent des
commentaires montrant comment ces normes anciennes sont comprises a
leur epoque et indiquant, le cas echeant, si elles sont appliquees ou
tombees en desuetude; ces commentaires trouvent leur aboutissement, au
XIVe siecle, dans l'ouvrage de Blastares, ou la matiere canonique est
organisee selon l'ordre alphabetique. L'interet ide'ologique West pas
moindre: dans quelques canons du We ou du VIIe siecle, les regles
edictees sont accompagnees de justifications; les developpements d'ordre
etiologique sont beaucoup plus' nombreux chez les canonistes du XIIe
siecle. C'est au travers de telles exegeses que l'on peut entrevoir des
aspects plus subtils ou des formes plus complexes de la discrimination
affectant les femmes. Le corpus canonique fournit, de fait, deux
ensembles de donnees pour notre sujet. II formule des exclusions a
l'encontre des femmes. II revele aussi diverses formes d'alienation: dans
certaines normes et, plus clairement encore, dans les discours explicatifs
qui s'y rapportent, differents processus de depersonnalisation et de
reification sont a l'ceuvre. Autrement dit, les femmes ne sont pas
seulement rejetees a 1'exterieur de la communaute; leur raison d'etre est
exterieure a elles-memes.
Les exclusions
Premierement, les femmes sont tenues a 1'ecart du sacre et du sacerdoce.

Le phenomene se marque dans le canon 11 du concile de Laodicee: 'Sur le
fait qu'il ne faut pas instituer a 1'eglise celles que l'on appelle anciennes
ou encore presidentess2. Les termes grecs sont presbutides et prokathemenai.
Aucune explication n'est fournie; le statut exact de ces femmes et leur role
ne sont pas davantage explicites. Mais les collections canoniques
byzantines autorisent quelques remarques. Deja le Nomocanon en XIV
titres, dont la composition remonte au VIIe siecle et qui rassemble, par
themes, des references aux canons et des citations du droit imperial, fait
etat du canon de Laodicee sons la rubrique suivante: 'Sur les diaconesses
et le fait qu'une femme ne devient pas presbutera'.3 Le terme employe est
2 RP III, 181.
3
Nomoc. 137, RP I, 81.
LES FEMMES DANS LA TRADITION CANONIQUE 89
presbutera, au lieu de presbutis dans le canon. Le rapprochement avec le

masculin presbuteros est ainsi accentue, et la rubrique du Nomocanon me
parait signifier: it n'y a pas d'equivalent femme a presbuteros.° Au XIIe
siecle, Zonaras s'attache seulement au fait qu'il s'agit d'une pratique
ancienne (sous-entendu: disparue): ces presbutides etaient, d'apres lui, 'des
femmes agees', qui prenaient la tete des femmes entrant a l'eglise, leur
indiquaient ou se placer et veillaient au bon ordre 5 Balsamon, lui, etablit
une relation avec l'interdiction d'enseigner en public, et fait cette
remarque revelatrice: 'qu'une femme instruise dans une eglise catholique,
la ou une foule d'hommes est rassemblee ... est tout a fait inconvenant et
funeste'.6 Aristenos marque encore mieux que la norme represente une
exclusion: 'Si en effet it est interdit [aux femmes] d'exercer des fonctions
civiques, comment pourront-elles, dans l'assemblee [des fideles], tenir le
premier rang du clerge?'' L'exclusion du pouvoir dans la cite et celle de la
hierarchie ecclesiastique se renforcent Tune l'autre,8 et elles sont trop
evidentes pour necessiter une justification. D'autres passages du corpus
canonique confirment l'evidence de l'interdit. Balsamon, quand it
commente le texte du Nomocanon definissant qui est clerc,9 critique
1'opinion selon laquelle la simple tonsure confererait aux moines le rang
de lecteur et declare: 't'est absurde.' Or it a en reserve un argument
manifestement imparable: 'Aux femmes aussi qui sont moniales ce droit
sera octroye en raison de la tonsure, ce qui est, a un degre encore plus
fort, tout a fait absurde'. Nul besoin d'explication: le fait que la femme est
a 1'exterieur du clerge va de soi.
Dans un tel contexte, le statut des femmes diacres pose evidemment
probleme. Il est hors de question de revenir ici sur le probleme des
origines. L'evolution byzantine, elle, est claire.10 Comme Balsamon
° De meme, Joannou, 12,135, traduit par 'femme-pretre'.

5 RP III, 181.
6 RP III, 181, repris dans Blastares (gamma 21, RP VI, 196). Sur 1'expression 'eglise
catholique', voir G. Dagron, 'Le christianisme dans la ville byzantine', DOP 31 (1977), 9
n. 31.
' RP III, 181-182. Sur la notion de clerge a Byzance, voir G. Dagron, 'Remarques sur le
statut des clercs', JOB 44 (1994), 33-48.
6
Le meme type de rapprochement entre un interdit canonique visant les femmes
(s'exprimer a l'eglise) et les incapacites du droit imperial est fait par Balsamon a propos du
canon 70 du concile in Trullo (RP 11, 468-469).
' Nomoc. I 31, RP I, 71-72.
'° Sur le declin du role public des diaconesses, voir J. Herrin, 'Public and Private
Forms of Religious Commitment among Byzantine Women', dans L.J. Archer, S. Fischler,
M. Wyke eds, Women in Ancient Societies (London, 1994), 191.
90 JOELLE BEAUCAMP
1'explique notamment, it n'y a pas, de son temps, d'ordination de

diaconesse." Et accorder a des diaconesses un role actif dans la liturgie
est un trait caracteristique de l'heresie. Une decision patriarcale de 1143
condamne les bogomiles pour 'avoir ordonne diaconesses des femmes, en
leur permettant de dire les prieres ecclesiastiques d'usage, de lire les
saints evangiles et de concelebrer avec Clement'.12 Nous verrons que, si la
diaconesse appartient a la sphere du sacre, c'est d'une toute autre facon.
Deuxiemement, les femmes sont maintenues en dehors de l'espace le

plus sacre, celui qui entoure l'autel et qui est separe du reste de 1'eglise
par la barriere du chancel. Le texte fondamental est encore un canon de
Laodicee: 'Il ne faut pas que les femmes entrent dans le sanctuaire
(thusiasterion).'13
Comme dans le cas precedent, aucune explication n'est

fournie. Les commentaires, eux, donnent deux justifications.14 La
premiere renvoie a 1'exclusion precedente, qui laisse les femmes a l'ecart
du clerge. De fait, puisque l'acces au 'sanctuaire' est reserve aux clercs et
interdit aux laics, it est necessairement interdit aux femmes, qui
appartiennent au groupe des laIcs. Le point interessant reside dans la
facon dont cette evidence logique est formulee. Selon Zonaras, 's'il est
interdit aux hommes laics d'entrer a l'interieur du sanctuaire, selon le
canon 69 du VIe concile,15 cela serait bien davantage interdit aux
femmes...'. Blastares reprend le meme raisonnement a fortiori: si les
hommes laics sont ecartes, les femmes le sont encore plus.16 On decele
ainsi, en filigrane, une representation de la societe chretienne, organisee
en cercles concentriques: les clercs sont au centre et les laics sur le
pourtour; mais, dans le cercle des laics, les femmes sont plus
peripheriques que les hommes.
La seconde raison, qui vient renforcer la premiere, est le risque
d'impurete lie a la presence feminine: le sang menstruel est tenu pour une
RP II, 255-256.
12Les regestes des actes dli patriarcat de Constantinople, I 2-3, ed. V. Grumel et
J. Darrouzes (Paris, 1989), n° 1012; J. Gouillard, 'Quatre proces de mystiques a Byzance
(vets 960-1143)', REB 36 (1978), 74.
" Canon 44, RP III, 212.
" RP 111, 212.
Ce canon du concile in Trullo ne pane pas des hommes specifiquement, mais des
laics d'une maniere generale. Dans le commentaire correspondant (RP II, 466), Balsamon
distingue aussi les hommes des femmes, a qui 1'interdit s'impose encore plus: 'Chez les
Latins ... non seulement des lairs hommes, mais aussi des femmes entrent dans le saint bema
et s'y tiennent assis.'
16 RP VI, 196-197 et 306.
souillure, tout comme celui qui accompagne un accouchement. Les textes

canoniques designent les femmes qui ont leurs regles par une periphrase
empruntee a la Septante: 'celles qui se tiennent a l'ecart' (at 9v 605p (p).1,
La denomination meme implique 1'exclusion, et le fait .n'a pas echappe
aux canonistes byzantins: 'Les femmes des Hebreux', commente Zonaras,
'lorsque se produisait pour elles l'ecoulement de la menstruation,
demeuraient dans un lieu isole et n'avaient de contact avec personne
jusqu'a ce que sept jours se fussent ecoules; c'est de la qu'a ete prise
1'expression Ev &cpESpcp, qui montre qu'elles sont separees de la residence
(hedra) des autres, en tant qu'impures.i18 Or, souligne-t-il, '1'ecoulement
du sang menstruel se produit inopinement'.19 A cause de ce caractere
imprevisible, une impurete temporaire entrain une exclusion
permanente.
Dans le developpement du droit canonique byzantin, 1'exclusion a
tendance a se renforcer. Au XIIe siecle, le patriarche de Constantinople
Luc Chrysoberges rappelle que 1'entree du sanctuaire est interdite a toute
femme, quel que soit son age, et condamne une pratique qui avait cours
daps des villages proches de la capitale: des fillettes de sept ans servaient
a 1'autel.20 Dans leur cas pourtant, l'impurete physiologique ne pouvait
etre evoquee. Et les canonistes byzantins sont conscients d'une evolution.
21
Balsamon note deja que l'interdiction n'a pas cours chez les Latins Plus
clairement encore, Blastares fait observer que cet interdit n'a pas toujours
existe: entre autres indices d'un changement, it cite le discours funebre de
Gregoire le theologien pour sa sceur Gorgonia.22 Toutefois, meme a
Byzance, une exception au moins13 est prevue: d'apres un canon qui est
attribue au patriarche Nicephore, mais doit dater de la fin du Xe ou du
Me siecle29, les moniales peuvent nettoyer et decorer cette partie de
l'eglise. Elle est certainement due a un autre imperatif, qui prevaut sur
" C'est une des rubriques de Blastares, a la lettre alpha (RP VI, 106).
'e RP IV, 7. Le texte de Balsamon (8) est a peu pres identique.
19
RP III, 212. Voir aussi Blastares, RP VI, 172.
20 Regestes du patriarcat (voir n. 12), n° 1087.
RP III, 212.
RP VI 172. La reference est a Gr. Naz., or. 8, 1318, ed. M.-A. Calvet-Sebasti (Paris,
1995, SC 405), 284-286, qui depeint Gorgonia, malade, venant en pleine nuit se jeter au pied
de l'autel.
23 La situation particuliere de l'empereur est longuement commentee, notamment par
Balsamon (RP II, 466-467): voir G. Dagron, Empereur et pretre. Etude sur le 'cesaropapisme'
byzantin (Paris, 1996), 117, 126-129, 268-269; mais le cas ou une femme exercerait le
pouvoir imperial n'est pas envisage.
21
Canon 15 (RP IV, 428): Regestes du patriarcat (voir n. 12), n° 406.
92 JOELLE BEAUCAMP
1'exclusion feminine: les hommes doivent entrer le moins possible dans

les monasteres feminins.
Troisiemement, les femmes sont potentiellement a l'ecart du temps du

sacre, c'est-a-dire du temps liturgique. Les trois canons anciens qui
statuent sur ce point sont tous d'origine alexandrine. Le canon 6 de
Timothee concerne la femme catechumen dont le bapteme a ete fixe (a' la
veillee pascale suivante). Que faut-il faire, si 'le jour du bapteme, it lui
arrive ce qui est habituel aux femmes'? 'Il faut differer jusqu'a ce qu'elle
soit purifiee.'1' Le canon 7 de Timothee pose le probleme de la
participation aux saints mysteres (la communion), toujours pour ce meme
cas de figure. La reponse est identique: 'il ne faut pas, jusqu'a ce qu'elle
soit purifiee'.26 Quant au canon 2 remontant a Denys d'Alexandrie'27 it
estime superflu de s'informer sur ce sujet: car des femmes croyantes et
pieuses n'oseront jamais avoir un tel comportement, mais prendront
modele sur l'hemorroisse qui n'avait pas ose toucher le Christ. La
remarque donne a penser que le droit canonique ne creerait pas
1'exclusion, mais consacrerait plutot des usages reconnus. Toutefois le
canon elargit encore l'interdit: d'apres lui, ces femmes qui ne doivent pas
'sapprocher de la table sainte' ne doivent pas non plus 'entrer dans la
maison de Dieu', c'est-a-dire dans l'eglise; prier leur est certes permis,
mais 'celui qui n'est pas completement pur de corps et dame se verra
interdire d'approcher ce qui est saint'. Balsamon en tire la conclusion que
ces femmes ne doivent me-me pas se tenir dans le pronaos de l'eglise.28
Semblablement, l'accouchement exclut les femmes de la communion;
et, s'il a lieu pendant le Careme, elles ne peuvent s'associer a la
celebration pascale qui suit. Cette regle est enoncee dams une reponse
canonique de la fin du XIe siecle.29
Sans doute la question de la purete est-elle au cceur de toutes ces
decisions.30 En tout cas, elles ont pour effet d'exclure les femmes, a
zs
RP IV, 334.
zb
RP IV, 335.
2' RP IV, 7.
za
RP IV, 8-9.
z9
Regestes dii patriarcat (voir n. 12), n° 990. La Novelle 17 de Leon VI exclut l'accouchee
du bapteme ou de la communion pendant quarante jours, sauf en cas de danger vital.
J0 Sur la signification de cette impurete, Me au melange entre la vie et la mort, voir
I. Sorlin, 'Striges et geloudes. Histoire d'une croyance et d'une tradition', TM 11 (1991),
432-434.
intervalles reguliers, des celebrations de 1'Eglise. Une temporalite qui leur

est specifique rompt pour elles le temps liturgique.
Les formes d'alienation
Outre la demi-douzaine de canons tenant les femmes a l'ecart du sacre, la

litterature canonique temoigne d'une forme d'exteriorite autre que la
marginalite ou 1'exclusion: les femmes y apparaissent non pas etrangeres
a une communaute ou elles ne s'integrent que partiellement, mais
'etrangeres a elles-memes', parce qu'affectees par differentes formes
d'alienation.
En premier lieu, la femme n'est pas son propre principe. Son principe
- l'homme - est exterieur a elle. Tant Zonaras que Balsamon 1'affirment
dans leurs commentaires au canon 17 du concile de Gangres;1 interdisant
aux femmes de raser leur chevelure. Ils rappellent que 1'apotre Paul a
ecrit: 'l'homme est la tete de la femme'; puis ils expliquent: 'il a dit cela
parce que l'homme est sa cause (aitios), en tant qu'elle est nee de lui'. Que
l'homme soit cause de la femme entrain que celle-ci est referee a lui. Il y
a la un mecanisme d'alienation, qui se manifeste de differentes facons.
D'abord, elle est instrumentalisee a son profit, comme le montre le
commentaire de Zonaras sur le canon 21 de Basile 32 Ce canon punit
1'homme marie qui tombe dans la fornication (porneia) plus severement
que celui qui n'a pas d'epouse. Zonaras justifie ainsi la difference de
traitement: le second a quelque excuse 'a cause de la necessite naturelle';
le premier, lui, n'a aucune circonstance attenuante, lui 'qui a son epouse
legitime comme calmant (paramuthia) a la necessite naturelle'. L'epouse
est vue comme un moyen, par lequel la sexualite peut etre apaisee.
Semblablement, le traite de Blastares dit de 1'homme mane qu'il dispose
'd'un calmant legitime contre la tyrannie naturelle' 33 La meme conviction
semble a l'ceuvre dans le canon 16 du concile d'Ancyre, relatif a la
bestialite 34
11
etablit des degres divers dans la gravite de 1'acte, en
fonction de deux criteres: Page du coupable et le fait qu'il soit marie ou
non. Balsamon rapporte ces differences a un principe d'explication
commun: 'la necessite naturelle', concue comme une circonstance
31
RP III, 113-114.
32
RP IV, 449.
33
Gamma 16, RP VI, 187.
3i
RP III, 53.
94 JOELLE BEAUCAMP
attenuante.35 On s'attend donc a ce que cette necessite diminue avec l'age,

d'une part, et a ce que l'epouse serve a l'apaiser, d'autre part.
Ensuite, la femme subit une appropriation au profit de dhomme. Les
textes les plus revelateurs sont le canon 4 de Gregoire de Nysse
concernant la fornication et l'adulte're (porneia et moicheia) ainsi que les
commentaires formules a son propos.36 Gregoire expose comment
l'ethique chretienne a du s'adapter a la norme sociale, qui s'attache
particulierement a la fidelite des epouses et distingue l'adulte're, defini
comme une relation sexuelle impliquant la femme d'autrui, de toutes les
autres formes d'inconduite. Selon les principes chretiens, eux, les epoux
ont les memes obligations de chastete et de fidelite: comme le developpe
Gregoire a partir d'un passage paulinien,37 chaque conjoint est pour
1'autre 'un ustensile propre' (tio i&ov ainov 6xsvo5), dont celui-ci peut
user legitimement dans le mariage; sinon, tout ce qui n'est pas 'propre'
(idion) est 'etranger' (allotrion), me-me s'il n'a pas de maitre (tiov
xvptEbov'c(x) manifeste, precision qui renvoie implicitement au cas de
1'epouse (en puissance de mari). Autrement dit, toute relation sexuelle
hors mariage est adultere, et it n'y a pas lieu de differencier entre
l'adultere (de 1'epouse) et la fornication. Mais 1'Eglise a du composer:
pour employer le langage de Gregoire, les Peres ont inflechi les principes
au profit des plus faibles et introduit une distinction entre la fornication,
qui se produit 'sans injustice envers autrui', et l'adultere, qui comporte
une telle injustice. Ce que la traduction ne rend pas, mais qui va de soi en
grec (&Stixi(x &cEpov), c'est qu'autrui est un masculin. L'adultere redevient
ainsi une atteinte aux droits d'un homme. Du meme coup, l'etre
'etranger' que Gregoire designait par un neutre (allotrion) au debut de son
texte redevient une femme, et une femme 'qui appartient a un autre',
conformement au sens premier de l'adjectif allotrios. Zonaras et Balsamon
confirment cette interpretation. Pour eux, la relation charnelle sans
'injustice envers autrui' est celle qui a lieu 'envers une femme libre
d'homme'; et l'injustice envers autrui consiste a 's'approprier celle d'un
autre' ('ri v a urpiav oicetiobµEvos). Bref, l'epouse (et elle seule) est objet
d'appropriation par son conjoint et sous la maitrise de celui-ci.
Enfin, la femme est parfois privee de libre choix et de pouvoir sur elle-
meme. La decision alienante remonte, cette fois, au concile in Trullo et
concerne 1'epouse d'un homme qui va devenir eveque: une fois separee
35
RP III, 54-55.
" RP IV, 308-314.
" 1 Thess. 4:4.
de son mari d'un commun accord, la femme est contrainte d'entrer dans
un monastere apres l'ordination de celui-ci.38 La raison n'est nulle part
explicitee, mais ne fait aucun doute. 11 est interdit aux clercs, sous peine
de decheance, d'avoir pour epouse une femme qui ne serait pas univira,
que ce soit une veuve, une divorcee ou une femme de mceurs legeres.
L'ancienne epouse de 1'eveque, si elle etait laissee libre, tiendrait ainsi en
son pouvoir la fonction episcopale de celui-ci: en se remariant ou meme
en menant une vie licencieuse, elle la mettrait en peril. Une telle
dependance ne pouvait qu'apparaitre intolerable a la societe et a 1'Eglise
byzantines. La solution passe par une mesure alienante pour la femme,
astreinte a devenir moniale. Cette contrainte, qui fait fi de son libre choix,
n'etait pas sans poser probleme. Balsamon dut rappeler avec insistance
que telle etait la solution canonique et qu'un semeioma d'Isaac Ange
l'avait confirmee recemment.39 Il lui fallut aussi justifier ladite norme.
Certains soutenaient en effet que personne ne doit entrer contre son gre
dans la vie monastique: pourquoi donc ces femmes ne seraient-elles pas
enfermees dans un monastere, mais sans etre tonsurees? Balsamon
repond qu'elles pourraient alors chercher a sortir du monastere et a se
remarier (ce qui mettrait en cause 1'ordination de leur ancien mari). Son
deuxieme argument est qu'etre enferme dans un monastere sans etre
tonsure represente un chatiment (prevu pour les femmes adulteres, par
exemple):40 appliquer cette solution a l'ancienne femme de 1'eveque
deshonorerait 1'ordination de celui-ci. On remarque, une fois de plus, que
le probleme est pense en fonction de 1'eveque (de l'homme), et non pas
par rapport a la femme. Enfin, en ce qui concerne la contrainte exercee
sur la femme, Balsamon explique que celle-ci pouvait refuser le divorce,
empechant ainsi l'ordination de son mari et sa propre tonsure; mais a
partir du moment ou elle 1'a accepte, la consequence (a savoir sa propre
tonsure) est inevitable. Le premier choix est donc cense englober le
second, et la tonsure est consideree comme choisie et non imposee. On
peut se demander si le choix initial etait vraiment libre. On notera de
toute facon que ces normes sont elaborees par rapport a un homme et a
son profit.
38 Canon 48, RP II, 419. Voir Herrin,'Public and Private Forms', 194-195.
RP II, 420-423. Sur le semeioma de 1186, precisant que la regle canonique a du etre
rappelee parce qu'elle ri etait pas toujours respectee, voir J. et P. Zepos, lus graecoromanum, I
(Athenes, 1931), 435-436; Regestes du patriarcat (voir n. 12), n° 1171; Regesten der
Kaiserurkunden des ostromischen Reiches, II 2, ed. F. Dolger et P. Wirth (Munich, 1995),
n° 1573.
40 Sur le monastere comme prison, voir Herrin, 'Public and Private Forms', 193-195.
96 JOELLE BEAUCAMP
Un deuxieme aspect de l'alienation feminine ne se limite pas, comme

le precedent, au cas de 1'epouse. Dans le droit canonique, l'homme est au
cceur du dispositif normatif; la femme est envisagee en fonction de lui et
peut meme se retrouver objet de normes, dont it est a la fois le sujet et
l'agent. Le canon 77 du concile in Trullo et le commentaire qu'en fait
Zonaras le montrent bien." Le canon interdit aux clercs et aux moines,
ainsi qu'a' tout chretien laic, de se baigner avec des femmes. Zonaras
developpe 1'explication suivante: rencontrer des femmes dans une
maison ou dans la rue peut deja provoquer une tempete dans la raison
des hommes; a plus forte raison se baigner avec elles risque de submerger
leur esprit. La regle s'adresse donc a des hommes, alors que les femmes
en sont l'objet. Et 1'interdit est justifie par le fait que toute femme
represente un danger potentiel pour 1'equilibre masculin; la femme est
pensee par rapport a l'homme, sans qu'il y ait reciprocite42
Les observations que suscite ce canon ont-elles une portee plus
generale? Ne pourrait-on objecter que le droit canonique s'adresse aussi
aux femmes et les traite comme des sujets? Il y a, de fait, des regles
specifiques aux femmes ou a certaines categories d'entre elles. Les
rubriques des differents chapitres du Nomocanon suffisent a le montrer,
ainsi que les titres rassembles dans le traite alphabetique de Blastares, a la
lettre gamma, dont dix-sept comportent le mot gunaikes." Apparemment,
les femmes sont, elles aussi, destinataires du droit canonique. Mais it faut
apprecier ce fait a sa juste valeur. Premierement, une bonne moitie de ces
dispositions prend en consideration les femmes en raison de specificites
physiologiques, comme nous le reverrons. Deuxiemement, le statut des
deux sexes, dans les enonces du droit canonique, presente une
dissymetrie manifeste. Dans le traite alphabetique de Blastares,
justement, si la lettre gamma reunit dix-sept titres avec le terme gunaikes,
la lettre alpha, elle, ne comporte aucune rubrique andres. Autrement dit,
1'homme est le genre normal; la femme est le genre marque'. Certes, le
phenomene a une composante grammaticale et it ne m'echappe pas que,
grammaticalement, le masculin englobe le feminin. Il en va
manifestement ainsi, quand un titre du Nomocanon a pour rubrique: 'Sur
les laics'. Neanmoins ces enonces sont des masculine et renvoient d'abord
a des hommes ou meme exclusivement a eux: c'est assurement le cas,
chez Blastares, de la rubrique 'Sur ceux qui se baignent avec des
" RP II, 483-484.

92 Toutefois, a propos du canon 30 de Laodicee qui formule la meme regle, Zonaras
depeint la pulsion sexuelle comme affectant semblablement les deux sexes (RP III, 197).
" Dix fois, c'est le sujet grammatical.
femmes'." Les hommes s'averent ainsi les veritables destinataires du

droit canonique; les femmes ne le sont que si c'est explicitement marque'.
Il faut prendre en compte une autre objection: par nature, le droit
canonique se preoccupe particulierement des clercs, qui sont des
hommes; dans un tel contexte, il n'y aurait pas a s'etonner que l'homme
soit mis au centre du dispositif normatif. Certes. Les developpements qui
suivent se limitent donc a des exemples ou ce facteur n'interfere pas et of
les relations entre hommes et femmes pourraient etre envisagees de facon
reciproque, entrainant des normes symetriques. Or c'est loin d'etre le cas.
Le phenomene se marque deja dans la syntaxe des prescriptions.
Quand elles concernent un couple, la femme n'en est pas le sujet
(grammaticalement parlant), mais l'objet ou le support. Il y a, notamment,
un titre du Nomocanon, formule ainsi:45 'Quand faut-il s'abstenir de son
epouse en raison de la communion?' La femme apparait privee de toute
autonomie. La fawn dont les interdictions de mariage sont enoncees
aboutit a la me-me constatation: ces prohibitions s'adressent le plus
souvent a un homme, la femme etant l'objet de l'interdit.
Mais it y a plus que ces manifestations grammaticales, comme le
montre un des commentaires au canon 51 des L'ecrit attribue Apotres.46
aux Apotres est un des nombreux textes du we siecle par lesquels l'Eglise
condamne des comportements ascetiques ou le mepris de la chair semble
inspire par des convictions dualistes. D'apres lui, l'abstinence, qu'elle
s'applique au mariage, a la viande ou au vin, est reprehensible si elle est
due au mepris de la Creation, et non pas a 1'ascese; cela vaut pour les
clercs et pour les laIcs. Chez Aristenos et Balsamon, la regle est reprise
sous une forme 'neutre' et rien n'interdit de penser qu'elle s'adresse aux
femmes comme aux hommes; Balsamon rappelle a ce propos que Dieu a
fait 1'etre humain male et femelle et que, pour cette raison, le mariage
n'est pas rejete par l'Eglise. Le commentaire de Zonaras a, lui, une tout
autre tonalite: 'Rien de ce qui vient de Dieu n'est mauvais; mais c'est le
mauvais usage qu'on en fait qui est nuisible. Si la femme etait cause du
mal, ainsi que le vin et le reste, ils n'auraient pas ete introduits par Dieu.
En consequence, celui qui calomnie les ceuvres de Dieu blaspheme contre
Sa creation.' Ici, le choix de l'ascese ne concerne pas tous les etres
humains, mais les seuls hommes. Le probleme est pense par rapport a un
homme et du point de vue d'un homme. Dares cette perspective, it
" Gamma 20 (RP VI, 195). Le Nomocanon (XIII 25, RP I, 28 et 326) precise, lui: 'Sur le
fait qu'il est interdit a des hommes de se baigner avec des femmes'.
1
Nomoc. 111 21, RP I,120.
ib
RP 11, 67-68.
98 JOELLE BEAUCAMP
devient superflu de dire que l'homme n'est pas source de mal, puisque
cree par Dieu. En installant ainsi 1'homme au centre des relations
humaines, en le traitant comme seul agent et seul sujet, le texte de
Zonaras en viendrait presque a le soustraire a l'ceuvre creatrice de Dieu.
Par ailleurs, cette exegese reifie la femme. Zonaras la place sur le meme
plan que le vin et la viande, alors que le canon originel mentionnait le
mariage a cet endroit; elle devient ainsi un produit cree par Dieu et mis a
la disposition de 1'homme, qui en use, selon les cas, bien ou mal.
Ce processus de reification represente un troisieme aspect de

l'alienation feminine: la femme est reifiee, en ce qu'elle est reduite a son
corps. La reflexion peut partir du canon 44 de Basile de Cesaree, qui
condamne comme un sacrilege (hierosulia) les relations sexuelles
impliquant des diaconesses et declare: 'Nous ne permettons pas que le
corps de la femme diacre, en tant qu'il est consacre, ait un usage
L'affirmation suscite deux remarques. Premierement, cette
charnel.'47
faute sexuelle n'est pas traitee comme une fornication ou une forme
aggravee de fornication. C'est un sacrilege. La diaconesse ne serait-elle
pas mise sur le me-me plan qu'un objet consacre a Dieu? L'hypothese
trouve des appuis dans le corpus canonique. Balsamon, dans son
commentaire du canon, explique que la regle s'applique meme a celle qui
a ete dechue du diaconat, en fonction du principe: 'ce qui est sacre ne
devient pas pollue (miaron)'.48 On relevera le neutre. On peut egalement
invoquer les considerations analogues relatives aux vierges consacrees.
Un autre canon de Basile definit la vierge comme 'la fiancee du Christ',
mais aussi comme 'un ustensile (skeuos) sacre dedie au Maitre'.49 Certes,
dans le Nouveau Testament, skeuos est utilise pour des etres humains,
dont Paul.'() Le sens d'objet, d'ustensile demeure neanmoins present,
quand une femme est ainsi designee. La preuve en est fournie par le
commentaire de Zonaras au canon 4 du concile in Trullo,51 punissant les
clercs qui ont une relation sexuelle avec une femme consacree a Dieu.
Zonaras justifie la mesure en ces termes: 'De meme qu'il est interdit de
s'approprier n'importe quel ustensile ou tissu, qui a ete dedie a Dieu et
sanctifie de ce fait, et d'en faire usage ..., de meme, a plus forte raison, le
47
RP N,191-192.
48
RP IV, 193.
49
Canon 18, RP W, 141.
so
Act. 9, 15; Rom. 9, 22-23; 1 Thess. 4:4; 2 Tim. 2:21; 1 Pet. 3:7.
51
RP II, 315-316.
corrupteur de la femme consacree a Dieu ne sera pas impuni.j52 Meme si

le cas de la femme apparait plus grave que celui de l'objet, la
comparaison a la chose consacree demeure. Bile est d'autant plus
frappante que le texte du canon suggerait une autre justification: en
parlant de corruption de 'la fiancee du Christ', it invitait a une
comparaison avec l'adulte're et non avec 1'appropriation d'objets sacres 53
La deuxieme remarque permet de revenir sur les femmes et la sphere
du sacre. Si elles en sont exclues, ce qui est dit de la diaconesse vient
preciser la situation. D'apres les textes reunis dans le corpus canonique
byzantin, la femme diacre n'est pas, comme l'homme diacre, quelqu'un
qui exerce un ministere sacre. C'est quelqu'un qui est consacre a Dieu,
comme le serait un objet, et dont le corps est tabou. Tant le canon 44 de
Basile que Zonaras, Balsamon ou Blastares parlent categoriquement de
corps consacre a Dieu.54 S'agissant du corps et de son usage sexuel, la
difference avec leurs homonymes masculins est, de fait, patente: pour les
hommes diacres comme pour les pretres, it n'y a pas de tabou general
d'ordre sexuel, autrement dit d'interdiction de toute activite sexuelle. Les
commentaires sur le degre d'abstinence sexuelle exige des clercs, a
propos du canon 25 de Carthage, suffiraient a le prouver.55 Le caractere
sacre de la diaconesse est ainsi attache au corps de celle-ci et a une
definition physique. On le constate encore a un autre effet. Quand
Balsamon commente le canon 49 de Basile, d'apres lequel une femme qui
subit une corruption par violence n'en porte pas la responsabilite, it
precise que, s'il s'agit d'une diaconesse, elle ne subira pas de peine, mais
cessera neanmoins d'etre diacre, 'parce que Dieu a permis qu'elle tombe
dans le mal'.56 La raison est claire: la souillure, meme involontaire, existe
materiellement et fait perdre a la femme un caractere sacre qui se limitait
a son corps. 57
Reduite a son corps, la femme Pest encore bien plus radicalement,

quand elle est ramenee a des specificites de sa physiologie. Comme it a
52 Balsamon (RP II, 316) utilise le meme registre ('il souille l'ustensile dedie a Dieu'),
mais sans developper la comparaison.
5' C'est ce que fait Aristenos (RP II, 317), en renvoyant au canon 18 de Basile qui
condamne l'homme comme adultere.
54
RP IV, 192-193 et VI, 436.
55
RP III, 369-372.
56
RP IV, 202-203.
57 Le meme point de vue s'applique aux jeunes gens contraints a la pederastie
(Blastares, alpha 14, RP VI, 104-105, a partir d'un texte de Jean le Jeuneur).
100 JOELLE BEAUCAMP
et' dit plus haut, certains aspects de son statut sont determines par le
phenomene de la menstruation, ou plutot par l'impurete affectant le sang
menstruel ou celui de l'accouchement. Cette impurete speciale aux
femmes est une des raisons avancees pour les exclure de 1'espace sacre;
elle les ecarte aussi des celebrations liturgiques, le bapteme comme la
communion. Elle peut egalement avoir pour effet de separer la mere de
1'enfant qu'elle vient de mettre au monde. Un canon attribue au
patriarche Nicephore envisage le cas du nouveau-ne qu'il a fallu baptiser,
parce qu'il etait en danger de mort: it doit titre allaite par une femme
baptisee et pure, ce qui veut dire par une femme autre que sa mere,
impure pendant quarante jours apres l'accouchement; sa mere ne peut ni
le toucher ni meme entrer dans la piece 58o%t it est, et cela jusqu'au moment
de sa purification, au quarantieme jour.
Ce qu'il faut ajouter, c'est que ces specificites physiologiques
determinent le statut des femmes dans un sens uniquement negatif. Elles
aboutissent, d'une part, a toute une serie d'exclusions. D'autre part, la
possibilite d'une identification positive, qui ne serait pas alienante, est
expressement refusee. Ici, c'est le canon 79 du concile in Trullo et ses
commentaires qui entrent en ligne de compte 59 Le canon condamne une
pratique apparemment repandue a la fin du VIIe siecle: au lendemain de
la fete de la Nativite, on confectionnait une bouillie de semoule, que Yon
partageait en 1'honneur de l'accouchement de la Mere de II
Dieu.6°
rappelle que Marie a enfante sans accouchement et declare que ce n'est

pas a son honneur que de penser cet enfantement a partir de notre
experience. Certes, it ne presente nullement cette coutume comme une
pratique feminine, et elle ne l'etait pas exclusivement, puisqu'il prevoit
une peine pour les clercs qui s'en rendent coupables. Neanmoins son
aspect culinaire devait impliquer la participation des femmes et on peut
supposer qu'elle etait particulierement en faveur chez elles.
Or les commentaires explicitent ce qui, dans cette pratique, choquait
l'Eglise: c'est le rapprochement qu'elle instaurait entre la Vierge et des
femmes, dans un vecu specifiquement feminin, dont les hommes sont
" Canon 38, RP IV, 431. Mais, au XIIe siecle, une reponse canonique bien differente est
faite (RP V, 372): voir M.-H. Congourdeau, 'Regards sur 1'enfant nouveau-n6 a Byzance',
REB 51 (1993),169.
59
RP II, 486-489; Blastares, kappa 8, RP VI, 322.
Voir Congourdeau, 'Regards', 156, J. Herrin, "'Femina byzantina": The Council in
fi0
Trullo on Women', DOP 46 (1992), 104-105 et 'Public and Private Forms', 196-197, qui
1'interprete comme un rituel public, dans 1'eglise. Sur ce mets, voir Ph. Koukoules,
xai xoAcrcvp65, IV (Athenes,1951), 31-32.
exclus. Voici ce que dit Zonaras: 'Certains faisaient [pour la Mere de

Dieu] ce que l'on fait dans le cas des femmes qui accouchent'; or elle n'a
pas fait 1'experience de l'accouchement; dans son cas, l'enfantement, tout
comme la conception, est au-dessus des caracteristiques naturelles, et
'c'est un outrage envers [elle] et non pas un honneur qu'ait lieu a propos
de son enfantement indicible la mtime chose que pour les autres femmes
qui enfantent'. Ce qui est ainsi refuse, c'est une identification entre Marie
et les autres femmes, dans ce que la feminite a de specifique: au lieu que
l'enfantement les rapproche, la realite physique de l'accouchement les
separe. Le commentaire de Balsamon developpe les mtimes themes, avec
une notation supplementaire qui confirme l'interpretation: it remarque
qu'il existe bel et bien une fete des epilochia de Marie, celebree avec des
psaumes et des hymns. Et it suffit de penser que la fete de 1'Hypapante,
au 2 fevrier, marque aussi la purification de Marie, quarante jours apres
la naissance du Christ, comme pour les femmes qui ont accouche,
conformement aux prescriptions du Levitique. Ce que refuse 1'Eglise n'est
donc pas vraiment de celebrer l'accouchement et les relevailles de Marie,
mais de les celebrer avec une pratique qui caracterise les femmes
accouchees. L'intolerable, en definitive, est l'assimilation de Marie et des
autres femmes, dans leur specificite physique. La possibilite d'une
identification positive est ainsi refusee aux femmes. Leur specificite
physique les determine de facon uniquement negative, par l'impurete qui
en reste inseparable. Facteur d'exclusion, elle est aussi facteur
d'alienation.
Je terminerai par quelques textes relatifs au bapttime de la femme

enceinte. Le canon 6 de Neocesaree affirme qu'elle doit titre baptisee
quand elle le veut et justifie ainsi sa decision: 'Celle qui enfante n'a sous
ce rapport rien de commun avec l'enfant, car la volonte concernant la
profession [de foil est manifestement propre a chacun.'61 A premiere vue,
ce texte temoigne d'une parfaite autonomie de la femme: le fait de porter
en elle un titre qui sera un autre ne la rend pas etrangere a elle-meme, ne
l'aliene pas. Mais les commentaires montrent que la menace d'alienation
est en realite toute proche.62 Balsamon explique bien la nature du
probleme. Il y avait une incertitude sur l'effet du bapteme de la mere: le
fcetus etait-il, oui ou non, baptise simultanement? Aussi courait-on
inevitablement un risque: ou bien on baptisait l'enfant apres la naissance
6' RPIII,79.
62 RP III, 79-80.
102 JOELLE BEAUCAMP
et on risquait de perpetrer un second bapteme; ou bien on ne faisait rien

et on risquait de laisser l'enfant non baptise. En fait, l'incertitude n'a pas
lieu d'etre. Car, comme Zonaras le souligne de son cote, 'l'embryon est
prive de volonte' et n'est donc pas baptise avec sa mere. Au total, si le
bapteme de la femme enceinte est possible, c'est parce que 1'enfant ne
recoit pas le bapteme en meme temps, du fait de ses caracteristiques
propres. Le sort de la femme est determine non par ses caracteres a elle,
mais par les specifications attachees a l'embryon: l'absence de volonte de
l'enfant a naitre est determinante pour faire obstacle a son bapteme et
permettre, du meme coup, celui de sa mere.
Un autre texte de Balsamon sur la question est encore plus revelateur.
Il s'agit de son commentaire au Nomocanon, a la rubrique 'Sur le
bapteme de la femme enceinte'? Balsamon y reprend l'affirmation du
canon, comme quoi le bapteme de la femme enceinte est possible 'parce
que la femme qui porte un enfant n'a [rien] en commun avec lui
(epikoinonein)', et it 1'explique ainsi: 'on ne la conjecture pas, elle aussi,
inapte au bapteme du fait que le foetus ne peut s'engager dans la
profession du bapteme'. Autrement dit, la decision prise a propos de la
mere depend de son rapport a l'enfant et est pensee, avant tout, par
rapport a lui. L'impossibilite de baptiser 1'enfant aurait pu entrainer
l'impossibilite de baptiser la mere. C'est bien l'autonomie de la femme
qui etait mise en cause, meme si la decision finale la conforte. II y a plus.
Comme toujours, le Nomocanon donne d'abord les renvois necessaires
aux textes canoniques (en l'occurrence, le canon 6 de Neocesaree); puis it
cite les dispositions du droit imperial relatives au me-me sujet. Ce sont, ici,
trois passages du Digeste: d'apres l'un, 'le foetus est une partie (nleros) de
la femme enceinte' 64 d'apres les deux autres, 'le foetus n'est pas une partie
de la mere'.` Balsamon veut expliquer pourquoi ces textes sont evoques a
propos du bapteme de la femme enceinte. Selon certains, ecrit-il, 'le
foetus ... est completement uni a sa mere en tant que partie d'elle; et it ne
peut pas etre baptise avec sa mere parce qu'il n'est pas encore venu a la
lumiere et n'a pas la volonte pour accomplir la profession du saint
bapteme. Par consequent, la femme enceinte elle non plus ne doit pas etre
baptisee, mais doit attendre la sortie du foetus a la lumiere, afin d'eviter
que Tune de ses parties soit baptisee, alors que l'autre reste privee de
1'illumination du bapteme.' L'une de ses parties: do jEv k T(-)v µspc5v
Nomoc. IV 10, RP I, 124-126.

D 25, 4, 1, 1.
0 D 41, 3, 10, 2 et D 50, 16, 26. Balsamon renvoie aux passages correspondants des
Basiliques.
avtif S. Donc ce n'est plus le foetus qui est considers comme partie de la
mere, mais la femme elle-meme qui est reduite a 1'etat de partie d'un tout
qui la depasse. De totalite, elle devient fragment: 1'accomplissement lui
fait defaut et elle cesse en quelque sorte d'etre une personne. Il serait
difficile de trouver plus bel exemple de perspective alienante.
8. Hebrews, Greeks or Romans?
Jewish Culture and Identity in Byzantium
Nicholas de Lange
The presence of Jews in Byzantium is generally overlooked, or mentioned

in the most cursory fashion. And yet, while not numerous, they were a
definite presence in the population of the major towns, and in the
literature of the Orthodox Christian majority they receive an attention
that verges on the obsessive, for obscure theological reasons. They also
receive attention in the legislation both of the state and of the church, and
so in speaking of Jewish identity we are considering something that had a
formal and publicly recognized aspect. However, in what follows I shall
be mostly concerned with the Jews' own sense of their minority identity,
rather than the identity that was inflicted on them by others, which is in
some respects a different story.
In speaking of the Jewish minority in Byzantium, I have in mind
mainly the period from 1000 to 1200. This is a period that is relatively
well documented from the Jewish side, and it is the availability of this
documentary evidence that makes the subject particularly interesting.
There are not many minorities that have left us such abundant writings,
from which, although it is not a constant preoccupation in the sources
themselves, we can glean a certain impression of how the minority saw
itself vis-a-vis the majority. The documents are mainly written in Hebrew,
and very few of them have been translated; indeed most of them are only
accessible in manuscript. It is to be hoped that they will be made
available to Byzantinists, because they are of more than passing interest.
The Jews can be considered either as an ethnic or as a religious
minority. In fact they were both, and I do not think it makes much
difference which term we use. The Jewish religion belonged exclusively
From Strangers to Thennselves: The Byzantine Outsider, ed. Dion C. Smythe, for the Society for
the Promotion of Byzantine Studies. Published by Ashgate Publishing Ltd, Gower House,
Croft Road, Aldershot, Hampshire, Gull 3HR, Great Britain. Copyright © 2000 Nicholas
de Lange. The right of Nicholas de Lange to be identified as the author of the article
'Hebrews, Greeks or Romans? Jewish culture and identity in Byzantium' has been asserted
by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.
105
106 NICHOLAS DE LANGE
to the Jewish ethnos, and a Jew converting to another religion ceased to

belong to the ethnos. The cultural manifestations of ethnic Jewish identity
are features which are often categorized as religious, but in many cases
there is nothing specifically religious about them.
Every ethnic minority needs to develop a sense of belonging, of self-
perception as a group, of common identity and of difference from other
groups. The boundaries of Jewish ethnic identity were laid down long
before the period I am looking at. They have very ancient roots, and were
established for Jews in general within the Roman empire in the early days
of that empire. The Jewish self-perception was linked to an established
theology in which the Jews were in a state of conflict with other ethnic
groups (called collectively 'the nations', 'ca EOvrl) which would at some
future time be resolved by the triumphal return of the Jews to their own
land. This belief seems to have helped the Jews to accept passively their
state of legal and social subjection and occasional oppression. It receives
regular, frequent and explicit articulation in the Hebrew liturgy of the
synagogue, and is taken for granted in hymns and homilies.'
How numerous were the Jews in the Byzantine empire? According to
Benjamin of Tudela, visiting the empire c.1165, there were 2,500 Jews in
Constantinople, 2,000 in Thebes, 500 in Thessalonike, and a scattering of
smaller communities or small groups elsewhere, totalling well under
10,000 in Are these numbers to be taken at their face value? David
all.2
Jacoby3 has argued that the figure of 2,500 for Constantinople is close to
what is reasonable for a piece of land of the size of the Pera Jewry, and
that consequently Benjamin's other figures, too, should be accepted as
referring to individuals, and not to households as some have maintained.'
For some illustrations of this outlook see below, and N.R.M. de Lange, 'A Fragment
of Byzantine Anti-Christian Polemic', JJS 41 (1990), 92-100. Its foundations he in the pre-
Christian empire: see Nicholas de Lange, 'Jewish Attitudes to the Roman Empire', in P.D.A.
Garnsey and C.R. Whittaker, eds, Imperialism in the Ancient World (Cambridge, 1978), 255-
281, 354-357.
2
Sandra Benjamin, The World of Benjamin of Tudela. A Mediterranean Medieval
Travelogue (Madison, WI, 1995). Extracts are translated in Joshua Starr, The Jews in the
Byzantine Empire 641-1204 (Athens, 1939), 228ff. and in Andrew Sharf, Byzantine Jewry from
Justinian to the Fourth Crusade (London/New York, 1971). See also Jose A. Ochoa, 'El
imperio bizantino en el viaje de Benjamin de Tudela', in G. Busi, ed., Viaggiatori Ebrei (Atti
del Congresso europeo dell' AISG) (Bologna, 1992), 81-98.
D. Jacoby, 'Les Quartiers juifs de Constantinople', B 37 (1967), 167-227, reprinted in
his Societe et demographie a Byzance et en Romanie latine (London, 1975), 185ff.
E.g. Sharf, Byzantine Jewry, 3: 'The final figure [of Jews in the empire] may be close to
100,000 of whom ... not less than ten thousand ... lived in Constantinople.' On this
JEWISH CULTURE AND IDENTITY IN BYZANTIUM 107
So they were a small minority, not exceeding perhaps one per cent of the
population of Constantinople 5
The Jews were mainly an urban minority, and at least in some cities
they had quarters of their own. There is some evidence that the Jews of
the capital were concentrated by edict in a part of Pera, and were not
permitted to dwell elsewhere in Constantinople. So Benjamin of Tudela
notes:
The Jews are not amongst them [the Greeks] within the city, for
they have transferred them behind an arm of the sea: an arm of the
Sea of Russia surrounds them on one side so that they cannot leave
except by sea in order to trade with the inhabitants of the city.'
Even if the law required them to live in their own quarter, however, we
cannot be certain that they did so in all times and places, and indeed a
few years later we find Eustathius of Thessalonike writing to the
Patriarch of Constantinople complaining that the Jews have begun to
spread all over that city, even living in Christian houses that are
decorated with holy images.7
How visible were the Jews? I do not know of any discussion of this
question in medieval or modem sources. In Byzantium Jews were not
forced to wear distinctive clothing, or a badge such as that imposed in the
Latin West by the 4th Lateran Council (1215). Does that suggest that they
could be sufficiently distinguished without such measures? I simply do
not know the answer to this question. Elisabeth Revel-Neher has drawn
attention to representations of Jewish men in Byzantine art wearing
phylacteries:
How striking the Jew-in-the-street must have looked, his forehead
bound with leather thongs which ended in a totally closed and
undecorated square box, and his left arm surrounded with circles
formed by these same thongs wrapped around it from the elbows
reckoning the Jews would have constituted some 2% of the population of the capital, and
perhaps more in the empire as a whole.
5 On the population of Constantinople see D. Jacoby, 'La population de
Constantinople a 1'epoque byzantine: un probleme de demographie urbaine', B 31 (1961),
81-109, reprinted in his Societe et demographie a Byzance et en Rontanie latine (London, 1975).
See also Jacoby's more recent study, 'Les Juifs de Byzance: une communaut6 marginalisee',
in I Perithoriaki sto Vizantio (Athens, 1993), 103-154, esp. 129ff.
6
See Jacoby, 'Quartiers', 178ff.
7 Jacoby, 182. Cf. Sharf, Byzantine Jewry, 147f.
to the fingers in such a way as to form the first letter of one of the
names of the Ineffable God!
Revel-Neher supposes that Jews ceased to dress like this in public,

although she presents no evidence for this supposition. Nor do I know of
any concrete evidence that Jewish men regularly wore striped shawls
such as we see in some Christian icons. The silence of the sources seems
to be the most telling indication that there was nothing distinctive about
the dress, habits or speech of the Jews, unless there was something that
was so taken for granted that it is not mentioned.
We may wonder whether, clothing or customs apart, there was
anything in the physical appearance or physiognomy of Jews that
distinguished them from gentiles. Prima facie I do not think it at all
probable. Many if not most of the original Jewish inhabitants of Byzantine
lands had ended up being absorbed into the Christian majority by
conversion, and the much smaller Jewish community in turn had
absorbed a certain number of converts. The general Byzantine population
was racially very mixed, and the Jewish community too had received
immigrants from all over the world. No distinctive physical
characteristics are attributed to Jews by gentile or Jewish writers, and so I
conclude that they were physically indistinguishable from non-Jews.
The Jews practised fairly strict endogamy, that was simultaneously an
expression and a buttress of their separateness. Christians, too, were
prohibited from marrying Jews by both state and church law. Both Jewish
and Christian law, however, permitted marriage with converts. Not much
is known about how this worked out in practice!
Christian sources refer to Jews in a casual manner that does not
suggest any difficulty in identifying or distinguishing them. Their
presence is taken for granted. No particular characteristics are attributed
to them. There is some doubt as to whether Jews were subjected to a
special tax as Jews. They suffered some legal disabilities, for example
8
Elisabeth Revel-Neher, The Image of the Jew in Byzantine Art (Oxford, 1992), 57.
9 The Karaite Tobias ben Moses writes to his daughter in 1040: 'My daughter, I do not
know who you are with, whether you are among Jews, who are your father's people, or
with your mother's race, the Gentiles.' See Moshe Gil, A History of Palestine, 634-1099,
translated by E. Broido (Cambridge, 1992), 816. In the twelfth-century pamphlet Anacharsis
or Ananias, the unfortunate John befriends a leader of the synagogue with a view to
converting him to Christianity, but is persuaded instead to marry a Jewess. As the
newlyweds emerge from church they are greeted by a throng of 'Pharisees, Sadducees and
rabbis' (ed. D.A. Chrestides (Thessalonike, 1984), 260-261. I am grateful to Elizabeth
Jeffreys for this reference).
they could not serve in the armed forces or in any government position,
so that they could not exercise any power or influence over Christians,
nor could they own Christian slaves. In law-courts they could not give
evidence in cases involving Christians, and we know of special forms of
oath to be taken by Jews.'°
The Jews were clearly distinguished from the Orthodox Christian
majority and from other minorities by their religious practices and rituals
as well as by their theological beliefs. Their religious adherence entailed
the use of a distinct calendar, and it was also connected to the use of a
distinctive language, Hebrew (and to a much lesser extent also Aramaic),
at least for certain religious and cultural purposes.
I have mentioned the enforcement of separate quarters for Jews.
Christian legislation also limited contact with Jews, at least in theory. For
example the Council in Trullo forbade mixed bathing, yet a visiting Italian
rabbi in the late-twelfth to early-thirteenth century, Isaiah of Trani,
castigates Byzantine Jews for bathing in public baths," so it is quite
possible that this kind of restriction too was honoured in the breach.
Benjamin of Tudela has left us the following vignette of the Jewish
quarter of Constantinople:
They live under heavy oppression, and there is much hatred
against them which is engendered by the tanners, the workers in
leather, who pour out their dirty water in the streets before the
doors of their houses and defile the Jewish quarter. So the Greeks
hate the Jews, good and bad alike, and subject them to severe
restrictions and beat them in the streets and force them to hard
labor. Yet the Jews are rich and good, kindly and charitable, and
cheerfully bear the burden of their oppression. The place in which
the Jews live is called Pera.'2
Although the Jewish minority is treated in the sources as a unity, it was a

divided unity. The most important division was a religious one, between
1°
E. Patlagean, 'Contribution juridique a l'histoire des Juifs dans la Mediterranee
medievale: les formules grecques de serment', REJ 124 (1965), 137-156, reprinted in her
Structure sociale, famille, chretiente a Byzance (London, 1981). Cf. Nicholas de Lange, 'Jews
and Christians in the Byzantine Empire: Problems and Prospects', in Diana Wood, ed.,
Christianity and Judaism (Oxford, 1992), 24. Generally on the status of the Jews, see Sharf,
Byzantine Jewry.
" Translation in Steven B. Bowman, The Jews of Byzantium 1204-1453 (Alabama, 1985),
213.
12 Translation from Bowman, Jews, 335.
Karaites and Rabbanites. A disturbance between the two groups resulting

in the imposition of a heavy fine is recorded in the 1060s, and Benjamin of
Tudela states that in Constantinople a fence or wall divides Rabbanites
from Karaites.13 In Cyprus, again according to Benjamin, there are three
groups of Jews, Rabbanites and Karaites, and also 'Epicureans', who have
their own calendar, observing the Sabbath for the whole of Saturday
instead of from Friday evening to sunset on Saturday.19
The origin of Byzantine Karaism is generally associated with a wave
of immigration from the east in the course of the late tenth and early
eleventh centuries. This is the view of the foremost modem specialist on
the subject, Zvi Ankori.15 A rival view has been strenuously advanced by
the Karaite scholar S. Szyszman, who observes that the Byzantine
Karaites preserve traces of the ancient Hellenistic Jewish religious culture,
and insists that Karaism spread in the empire mainly through missionary
activity among Jews.16
While it is true that we have some evidence of immigration, due to a
propitious economic and political climate and to troubles elsewhere, the
precise contribution of the newcomers to the Hebrew culture of the
empire remains to be determined. There are indications that academically
minded Jews elsewhere were attracted to Byzantium precisely because of
the scholarly opportunities that were available there.17
Whatever the truth about the spread of Karaism, Szyszman is correct
in drawing attention to the traces of Hellenistic Judaism to be found in
Byzantine Karaite texts. The phenomenon is not confined, however, to
Karaism. The whole of Byzantine Jewish culture rests on foundations laid
down by Greek-speaking Jews in antiquity, just as the roots of Byzantine
Christianity are in the early Greek-speaking church. The (sadly very
fragmentary) Byzantine Jewish remains in the Cairo Genizah preserve
distinctive renderings associated with Greek Bible translations that
" Jacoby, 'Quartiers', 179.

Bowman, Jews, 336.
In Zvi Ankori, Karaites in Byzantium (New York and Jerusalem, 1959), followed e.g.
by Andrew Sharf, Byzantine Jewry, 120, and by David Jacoby, 'The Jews of Constantinople
and their demographic hinterland', in C. Mango and G. Dagron, eds, Constantinople and its
Hinterland (Aldershot, 1995), 225.
16 S. Szyszman, 'Les karaltes de Byzance', Bulletin des Etudes KaraItes 3 (1993), 55-75.
17 See Nicholas de Lange, 'Jewish Education in the Byzantine Empire in the Twelfth
Century', in Glenda Abramson and Tudor Parfitt, eds, Jewish Education and Learning (Chur,
CH, 1994),115-128, esp. 116-117.
originated among Jews in the early Roman empire.18 It seems that these
translations - Aquila and the rest - were still used in our period, perhaps
in a mainly oral tradition, since they have left hardly any written traces.
This discovery raises the question, not yet addressed, of whether other
ancient Greek Jewish writings, such as Philo, Josephus, or the
pseudepigraphic apocalypses, were also preserved orally.
Yet despite such traces of loyalty to a living tradition going back to
antiquity, by the period that concerns us the written culture of the
Byzantine Jews, Karaites and Rabbanites alike, was based on the Hebrew
language. Hebrew became the foundation of Byzantine Jewish culture.
All its written texts are inscribed in the Hebrew alphabet, even if, as
sometimes happens, the language-is Greek. The reason for this is that the
Jews had their own schools. Both Karaites and Rabbanites invested
heavily in Hebrew education. Its aim was to ensure that Jewish boys (at
least) could follow the Hebrew prayers and understand the Bible.19 At its
best its results were impressive, to judge by the technically very
competent and linguistically accomplished Hebrew hymns (called
piyyutim, a word derived from the Greek word for poet), of which large
numbers have come down to us.
We can witness in the texts of our period the end result of a long and
fundamental process of cultural change, but we cannot observe the
process of change itself, for want of evidence. All we have are tantalizing
glimpses. The change from Greek to Hebrew culture was, in the long
term, the salvation of the Greek-speaking Jews, even if it involved
making enormous sacrifices, involving the jettisoning of their sacred
scriptures and the old texts (such as the writings of Philo) that expounded
them, as well as the traditional liturgy of the synagogue and much
secular literature.
In earlier times Greek was the common language of Jews in Europe, as
well as in Egypt and parts of Palestine. It was the cement of a common
religious culture. By the year 1000 the Greek-speaking world had shrunk
to a relatively tiny area. Their Greek tradition, had they clung to it
doggedly, would have served to isolate the Byzantine Jews from other
Jews, whether in Romance- and German-speaking Europe, in the Arab
'B N. de Lange, 'La tradition des ((revisions juives)> au moyen age: les fragments
hebraiques de la Geniza du Caire', in G. Dorival and O. Munnich, eds, 'Selon les Septante',
Hommage a Marguerite Harl (Paris, 1995), 133-143. On Byzantium and Cairo Genizah see the
remarks of David Jacoby in BZ 91 (1998), 110-112, and Nicholas de Lange, 'Byzantium in
the Cairo Genizah', BMGS 16 (1992), 34-47.
" See de Lange, 'Jewish Education'.
world, or elsewhere. Hebrew, the universal language of the Jews by our

period, was far more than a useful means of communication for a society
busily involved in international trade.
For more academically minded students the study of Hebrew opened
up the whole world of traditional Jewish scholarship (although it should
not be forgotten that Arabic, also written in Hebrew characters, was
establishing itself as a vehicle of culture as well as a means of
communication for many Jews in the Mediterranean region and further
afield). It also enabled Jews to participate in a rich contemporary written
culture that knew no geographical or political boundaries. Jewish
students from Byzantium sat at the feet of great teachers such as Rashi (d.
c.1105) in the West and of Hai Gaon (d. c.1038) in the East, and we have
many indications that works by Byzantine Jews were read abroad, while
writings by foreign Jews were studied in Byzantium.20 Byzantine scholars
can turn an elegant Hebrew letter when the occasion demands it, as we
can see from the three Hebrew letters of a leading Karaite figure, Tobias
ben Moses, preserved in the Genizah. Their style is accomplished and
they are written partly or entirely in rhyme?'
The ability to write was also a useful tool for a society based to a large
extent on long-distance trade, and writing Hebrew allowed Byzantine
Jews to communicate with each other without gentiles (who might be the
bearers of letters) being able to understand what was written, as well as
facilitating contact with foreign Jews who did not speak Greek. Among
the Cairo Genizah documents are a number of Hebrew letters from
Byzantium showing that the language could be used as a medium of
communication even among businessmen: the level of fluency is not
particularly high, but the writers do not seem to experience any
particular difficulty.22 Indeed there is scarcely any evidence of Byzantine
Jews being able to write in any script except the Hebrew, and on the rare
occasions when they use Greek characters to write Greek it is always
clear that they have a Hebrew education as well.
2°
See for example Nicholas de Lange, 'Abraham Ibn Ezra and Byzantium', in F. Dfaz
Esteban, ed., Abraham Ibn Ezra y su Tiempo (Madrid, 1990), 181-192, and supplementary
remarks in Bulletin of Judaeo-Greek Studies 17 (Winter, 1995), 20.
2' See de Lange, 'Byzantium in the Cairo Genizah', 39-40; Gil, History of Palestine, 815-
818; Z. Ankori, 'The Correspondence of Tobias ben Moses the Karaite of Constantinople', in
J.L. Blau et al., eds, Essays on Jewish Life and Thought presented in honor of Salo Wittn:ayer
Baron (New York, 1959),1-38.
u
See de Lange, 'Byzantium in the Cairo Genizah'.
Besides these practical uses for Hebrew literacy, we should bear in

mind that the Hebrew language also functioned as a factor in the
expression of distinctive Jewish identity. This aspect comes across very
clearly in the polemic of the twelfth-century author Judah Hadassi,
addressing himself to his fellow Karaites:
It is not proper for legal documents to be written in any other

language than your own. The Rabbanites, in expressing themselves
partly in the vernacular [i.e. Greek] language in their documents,
behave like gentiles ... This is not the way of your Torah, for our
language is the language spoken by our God at Mount Sinai before
the whole of his people Israel through his Prophet ... Hence this is
the way our deeds and contracts are to be written'
This statement embodies a polemic against Christianity as well as against

the Rabbanites, who are the main opponents of Karaism. And Hadassi is
making a double point: Hebrew is the language of the Jewish religion, to
be used in marriage and divorce deeds and other documents, because it is
the language in which God himself chose to speak to Moses; by the same
token, its use asserts the unity of the Jewish people. Jews, by using their
ancestral sacred tongue in preference to the local vernacular, were
reasserting their links with their own classical tradition, as well as their
horizontal links with other Jews worldwide, and clearly differentiating
themselves from non-Jews. While the relationship of Greek Christians to
the Greek language is not identical, it is analogous in some respects, and
in particular the tendecy to Atticism is somewhat reminiscent of the
Jewish attitude to biblical Hebrew. It may be speculated that Atticism
may have been one of the factors that determined the Jewish return to
Hebrew: even if some earlier Jewish authors, like Philo and Josephus, had
themselves cultivated a high Greek style, in the Middle Ages Jews do not
seem to have felt much attraction to Greek antiquity or seen it as part of
the foundation of their own culture.24
The linguistic change from Greek to Hebrew, however gradual, must
have had profound effects on the way the Jewish communities related to
the Christian majority. In earlier times, in Asia Minor and Europe,
language had never been a barrier between Jews and Christians. By the
tenth century this was no longer true. At the most everyday level Jews
Eshkol ha-Kopher (ed. Yevpatoria, 1836), fol. 13a.

See Nicholas de Lange, 'The Classical Tradition in Byzantium', in D. Cohn-Sherbok,
ed., A Traditional Quest. Essays in Honour of Louis Jacobs (Sheffield, 1991), 86-101.
continued to communicate with Christians in Greek, but their education

and their religious ceremonies were marked by an allegiance to a
distinctive language. Did this matter? It is true that among the Christians
there were communities that were identified by distinctive languages,
such as Syriac, Armenian or Georgian. But the ethos of the empire had
changed considerably since the time of Justinian, when someone like John
of Ephesus, who lived for a long time in Constantinople and was close to
the emperor, chose to write in Syriac.5 The dominant culture of the state
was Greek, and as time went on this became truer than ever, despite the
very varied ethnic composition of the population. The Jews' use of
Hebrew was a strong statement of difference that was perhaps
deliberately provocative. Was not Hebrew the original language of the
world, that would be restored to its rightful place in the end of days,
when Greek would finally disappear? A fourteenth-century Hebrew
hymn couples a prayer for the end of subjection to foreigners with a plea
for the eradication of Greek:
On the day you exalt your choice possession above all,

Humbling and laying low mighty foes,
Eradicate the Greek tongue by the power of your spirit ...26
The Jews of Byzantium knew themselves to be the people of Israel, part of

a worldwide diaspora that would one day be gathered in to the Land of
Israel at the coming of the Messiah. They shared with other Jews a keen
sense of the pain of exile, and they resented the heavy yoke of Christian
oppression. Their hymns frequently express astonishment or impatience
at the endurance of Christian rule. Here is a typical example, an
alphabetical acrostic by Abraham ben Isaac ben Moses (twelfth century):
Antagonist placidly quaffing and trampling,

Babbling, stabbing, brandishing swords,
Chiding, chastising, menacing, cursing,
Despotically dominating, dancing, reviling,
' See Robert Browning, 'The Continuity of Hellenism in the Byzantine World:
Appearance or Reality?', in Tom Winnifrith and Penelope Murray, eds, Greece Old and New
(London, 1983), 111-128, here 118.
26 Isaac ben Kalo, Passover hymn. Hebrew text in J.L. Weinberger, Rabbanite and
Karaite Liturgical Poetry in South-Eastern Europe (Cincinnati, 1991), Hebrew section 242.
Exploding murderously, burning synagogues,

Forging and smelting, consuming and crushing .. .2
And another, written for the joyful festival of Hanukkah, commemorating

the victory of the Jews over the Syrian Greeks:
Remember the nation that trusts in thee

And rescue them from the viper's clasp,
Performing wonders at this time.
Spare, 0 Lord, the myriad folk,
Consign my tormentors to the flames,
As thou didst through the Hasmoneans.
Redeemer, hasten our salvation
That we may delight in thee
When thou destroyest the evil Greek empire.28
Manuscript fragments recovered from the Cairo Genizah preserve several

different wordings of a prayer that formed a central part of the thrice-
daily liturgy:
For the apostates let there be no hope; speedily uproot, smash and
humble the arrogant empire in our days; may the Christians and
the heretics perish in an instant, and may all the enemies of thy
people be speedily cut off; break the yoke of the gentiles off our
necks: Blessed art thou, Lord, Destroyer of the wicked and
Humiliator of the arrogant.29
This explicit prayer for the overthrow of the empire is accompanied by a

string of prayers for the coming of the Messiah and the establishment of
God's rule on earth.
The diglossic culture of the Byzantine Jews was not unique, either in
their own day or at other times. Most Jews in the Middle Ages used
Hebrew as their written language and as the language of prayer and
Bible study, while speaking one or more of the local vernaculars. The use
of Greek by the Byzantine Jews, however, was unique in two ways. In the
first place, it was the language of their own ancient religious culture,
22 Hebrew text in Weinberger, Rabbanite and Karaite, Hebrew section 26; for further
examples see English section, 12-13.
28 Avmelech ben Yeshua; Hebrew text in Weinberger, Rabbanite and Karaite, Hebrew
section 123.
29 This particular text is taken from ms Cambridge UL T-S 8H10.12(2).
which they had abandoned in the change to Hebrew but had never
entirely lost sight of, as evinced by the continuing use of the old Greek
Bible translations. Secondly, it was not only the spoken language of their
Christian neighbours but also the language of their church and their
written literature. This situation stands in stark contrast to that of the
Jewish communities of the Latin West. The French-speaking Jews of
Northern France and England, for example, were creating something new
in translating the Bible into French; their versions appear to antedate the
oldest local Christian vernacular versions. It appears that they had long
since abandoned their Latin liturgy and Latin Bible (which had
themselves in their turn replaced the ancient Greek liturgy and Bible),
and so were cut off both from their own past and from the religious
culture of their environment. The case of the Byzantine Jews was different
in some crucial respects. True, they were not educated in Greek grammar,
and did not read Greek literature. But when they used the unique and
astonishing Greek of the ancient Bible translator Aquila they must surely
have been aware, however dimly, that they were handling a precious
ancient heirloom, something that went back to the dawn of Christianity,
to a time when the Jews were more numerous than the Christians in
Greek lands. Their Greek language was not only a vehicle of
communication with their Christian neighbours on a mundane level but
could also serve for religious debate, in which, if we can believe Christian
sources from as late as the thirteenth century, the Jews continued to quote
from Aquila's Bible while the Christian disputants preferred the
Septuagint.30
At the same time, their attitude to Greek was not without ambiguity.
As we have seen, they could express hatred for Greek (their own mother
tongue) as the language of the oppressor, and pray for its disappearance.
The place of the Greek language within the nexus of factors making up
the cultural identity of the Byzantine Jews was evidently far from
straightforward.
A study of the ways in which these Jews named their language
underlines this complexity. An old Hebrew name for Greece, going back
to the Bible, was Yavan, a cognate of 'Ionia'. Hence the Mishnah and other
early rabbinic writings refer to Greek as yevanit, 'Yavanic'. Hebrew
writers in the Middle Ages also sometimes refer to Greece as Yavan, and a
' E. Patlagean, 'La "Dispute avec les Juifs" de Nicolas d'Otrante (vers 1220) et la
question du Messie', in M.G. Muzzarelli and G. Todeschini, eds, La storia degli ebrei
nell'Italia medievale: tra filologia e metodologia (Bologna, n.d.), 19-27.
Jew from Greece can be surnamed hayevani, 'the Yavanite' (for example
we know of a grammarian named Joseph ben David the Yavanite). In the
hymn of Isaac ben Kalo quoted above in which the poet prays for the
destruction of the Greek language it is termed Lashon yevanit ('Yavanic
tongue'). The oldest Bible translations render Yavan by Hellas, but the
medieval sources do not use this name, nor do they refer to the language
as 'Hellenic'.
The Hebrew sources sometimes name the Byzantine empire Edom, in
acknowledgement of its status as heir to ancient Rome 31 This reflects the
view that the biblical story of Jacob and Esau/Edom is really about the
relations between Jews and Christians. So the commentator Tobias of
Yavan (Tobiah ben Eliezer of Kastoria) explains Genesis 25:22, in the
story of the birth of Jacob and Esau, to mean that even in their mother's
womb the twin sons issued conflicting laws: one said that the day of rest
should be Saturday, the other said it should be Sunday; one said it was
forbidden to eat pork, the other said it was permitted. So far as I am
aware, however, the Greek language is never called 'Edomite'.
Probably the most usual name for the Greek language in our period is
lawn rwmi, 'the Roman tongue'. This name reflects the most typical and
distinctive designation for the empire in the documents of the period,
namely Romania. The Jews of the empire are collectively designated 'the
communities of Romania';32 the prayer book of the Byzantine Jews is
generally termed 'the ritual of Romania' (Mahzor Romania), and the
descendants of the Byzantine Jews continued to be called Romaniotes
until modem times.
In calling their language 'Roman' the Byzantine Jews were following
the usage of their Greek Christian and Arab Muslim neighbours, and
there is nothing remarkable about that. When seen in the wider context I
have tried to sketch out, it appears as one more ambivalent element in a
very complex picture, in which the Jews seem to have felt drawn in
different directions at once. As Romaniotes they were part of a Roman
empire embracing a multiplicity of ethnic groups. Their roots within that
empire were as old as anyone's, and their Romaniote identity
distinguished them from foreign Jews. At the same time, as Israelites they
31 See de Lange, 'Jewish Attitudes to the Roman Empire', and M. Hadas-Lebel, 'Jacob
et Esaii ou Israel et Rome dans le Talmud et le Midrash', Revue de 1'Histoire des Religions 201
(1984), 369-392.
32 For examples see Starr, Jews of the Byzantine Empire, 214, 227, 228, 241; Bowman,
Jews, 211-216. See also J. Starr, Romania: The Jewries of the Levant after the Fourth Crusade
(Paris, 1949).
knew that there was enmity between them and Rome/Edom for all time,
and they were taught that at the end of time God would shatter the
Romans and establish the triumphant rule of his own people.
9. The Enigma of the Romaniote Tombs*
Hanna Jacobsohn
There is only one extant description of an old Jewish cemetery on Greek

soil. In 1675 two travellers through Greece, George Wheler and Dr Spon,
visited the city of Patras, the capital of the Morea. Wheler noted the
Jewish cemetery and its gravestones which he described as follows:
Thence passing the River, and the Hill near the Town [Patras], we
came to the Jewish Burying-place; where I observed their
Sepulchres to be made in the fashion of little Houses of stone-
building; having at each end a Marble-Stone whereon is engraved
an inscription of their Name and Family; which looking like the
doors of the little House of Death, make the Burying-place like a
great Town when it is viewed at a distance from the wrong end of
a Microscope.'
In 1994 the Jewish Community of Chalkis, capital of the island of Euboea,

decided to renovate and restore the old part of their cemetery which had
been neglected for centuries. After clearing all the debris, there came to
light a Jewish cemetery similar to the one seen by George Wheler and Dr
Spon three hundred years ago.
Most of the tombs were in a state of disintegration. Even so, it is
absolutely clear that all the tombs were originally identical in
This paper is dedicated to Prof. Z. Ankori, my teacher and mentor, with gratitude
for his guidance and support for many years; to Marios Maissis, President of the Jewish
Community, whose ingenuity and tenacity made it all possible; and to all members of the
Jewish Community of Chalkis for their support, generosity, hospitality and kindness.
1 George Wheler, A Journey into Greece by George Wheler Esq; in Company of Dr Spon of
Lyons (London, 1678), Book IV 297; S. Bowman, 'A Corpus of Hebrew Epitaphs in Patras',
Anthypon, Athens, (1980), 49-75 and 14-19.
119
120 HANNA JACOBSOHN
construction, being of the type known technically as 'graduated

sarcophagus'.
The 'graduated sarcophagus' type consists of two 'stories': the lower
one is about 30 to 40 centimetres high and the upper one about 10
centimetres. The upper 'story' forms a narrow ledge, upon which rests a
half-cylinder, as a kind of 'roof'. The average length of the tombs is about
180 centimetres (tombs of children are, of course, smaller). All three
elements of the structure are built of local undressed chalk-stone held
together with loam. After the structure was erected, it was coated with
plaster and probably whitewashed.
This rather common grave type has one unusual feature: in the
rectangular base on its short end facing west there is a rectangular recess
of about 30 x 40 x 35 (or sometimes 40) centimetres, so the structure truly
does look like 'a small house with a recess resembling a door'.2
The epitaphs bearing the name, date of demise and sometimes some
other details concerning the deceased are placed at the back of the recess.
This means that the epitaph is hidden from view and cannot be seen from
the outside. All epitaphs are in Hebrew. The stone slabs bearing the
epitaphs as well as the inscription itself vary greatly: some are marble
and the epitaph is well carved in elegant letters of good workmanship;
others are done on shell or limestone and the epitaph is just scratched
into the soft stone with a sharp instrument. This difference most probably
is an indication of a difference in social status.
But what difference does it make when the inscriptions were obscured
from sight and the casual passer-by would not have been able to see it
anyway? The stone slabs by necessity are small and therefore the
inscriptions are short and nearly always unadorned. All the epitaphs in
the graveyard of Chalkis (as well as the slabs bearing inscriptions
inserted in the walls of the synagogue or just stored there) are of exactly
the same type: small in size with a short inscription of limited
information. All the inscribed epitaphs - in situ or removed to the
See photographs, 125-126. Wheler says that there was an opening at each end; in
Chalkis there was only one opening, always on the end facing west.
3 It is a Jewish custom that inscriptions in Hebrew of any kind (tombs or memorials
etc.), found not in their original setting, are collected and, if possible, inserted in the walls
of the Synagogue, or stored there until an opportunity (such as a renovation) makes it
possible to insert them into the walls.
ENIGMA OF ROMANIOTE TOMBS 121
synagogue - date from the Ottoman period: the oldest is dated May 1539
and the most recent is dated 26th May 1849.'
In 1907 M. Schwab published the text and photograph of an epitaph of
this same type, dated to 1326 from Challcis. In 1933, the same author
published spven epitaphs, one of which from Thebes, dated to 1330. In
1933, N.I. TiannopoulouIpublished one epitaph dated 1348.5 The dates of
these published epitaphs means that they are all from the Byzantine
period .6 In 1982 Steven Bowman published the text and photographs of
seven Jewish epitaphs from Thebes, which also conform to the same
descriptive type.' In 1981, Daniel Spiegel and Steven Bowman published
a corpus of Hebrew epitaphs of Mistra. These two writers state that 'The
stones are generally small, paralleling the usage of Patras, Naupaktos,
Thebes, and Chalkis.' In this corpus, one is from the late fourteenth
century and three from the fifteenth century (1455, 1460 and 1481).8
Indeed, these dates take us into the Ottoman period, but their significance
lies in that they all date from before the Jews' expulsion from Spain in
1492 and the influx of the expelled Jews from Spain into the Ottoman
Empire.
These Jews from the Iberian peninsula brought with them a totally
different burial tradition. Their tombs are mostly of the 'box' type with a
large horizontal stone bearing the inscription on top, which is often rather
elaborate. In later centuries there are other variations but never anything
similar to the 'graduated sarcophagus' described above. The Spanish-
Jewish tombs are also notable for their individuality in decoration and
their undisguised insistence on the strict separation of social classes.9
It should be stressed at this point that all the places at which tombs of
the 'graduated sarcophagus' type were found are well known old Jewish
The dates are always in the Jewish calendar calculated from the creation so that May
1539 = Sivan 5239 and 26 May 1849 = 5 Sivan 5609.
M. Schwab, 'Une inscription Hebraique a Chalcis', Revue des Etudes Juives 53 (1907),
283: M. Schwab, 'Sept Epitaphes Hebraiques de Grece', Revue des Etudes Juives 57'(1909),
106; N.I. ,Tiannopoulou, SYMBOLAI, 'Eis tin istorian ton Iodaikon paroikion en th
Ariatolilcl hipirotikih Elladi' (Athens, 1933) 190, photograph 2 [in that text].
6 Chalkis was conquered in 1470.
' Two are from the year 1330, and one dated to 1380; of the other three, two are dated
1555, one 1538.
8 S. Bowman, 'Jewish Epitaphs in Thebes', Revue des Etudes Juives 141 (1982), 317-370;
D. Spiegel and S. Bowman, 'Hebrew Epitaphs in Mistra', in, Michael VII, eds Z. Ankori and
S. Simonsohn (Tel Aviv, 1981), 201-247.
9 See Mina Rosen, Haskoy Cemetery, Typology of Stones (University of Pennsylvania,
1994).
122 HANNAJACOBSOHN
settlements, which have been in fairly continuous occupation throughout

the pre-Ottoman period, and which are well documented both in Jewish
and non-Jewish sources. The classic and well-known source from the
Byzantine period, of course, is the Spanish-Jewish traveller, Benjamin of
Tudela, who visited all these settlements in the mid-twelfth century"
One striking aspect of the inscriptions is the names of the deceased.
Out of seventy-two tombs, only forty-nine names are preserved. Of these
forty-nine names, only thirty-three are full names; one is only a family
name and eleven are first names only. If the names are analysed by
origin, fifteen of the family names are Romaniote (Greek) names; ten are
common Jewish names (Cohen or Levy); the remaining sixteen are from
all around the Mediterranean.
If we turn to the first names, all males bear biblical names. This is not
surprising, since every Jewish male, even if he uses a non-Jewish name in
daily life, will be known only by his Hebrew name in any religious
function, as well as in death. Turning to the first names of women, out of
thirteen first names, three are Greek names, two Italian and eight are
Hebrew names. Even in women's names, therefore, there was a
preference for Hebrew names, which points to the Romaniote (Greek-
Jewish) origin of the deceased, rather than Spanish-Jewish.
Even though the material evidence is scanty, it may be safely
concluded that what we have before us is a unique custom practised by
Jews of Greek-Byzantine origin, a custom those Jews kept for hundreds
of years. This leads to the two questions of the enigma: why are the tombs
absolutely uniform? And why were the epitaphs hidden?
So far, all my attempts at complete explanation have been less than
fully convincing. I can only make two suggestions. Hiding the inscription
might have been an attempt to prevent too much attention being drawn
to the tombs, thus guarding them from vandalism and desecration. This
practical reason appeals to the modem rational mind; but the desire for
modesty in death may have had a religious reason. Such a religious
reason might explain both curiosities about the tombs: namely their
uniformity in construction, their 'monumental display' if you will, and
the concealed epitaphs. In death all are equal, as is expressed in Psalm
49:1:'For he seeth that wise men die, the fool and the brutish together
perish...'. In their burial practice the Romaniote Jews of Chalkis leave us
perhaps with an impression of their piety.
'°M.N. Adler, ed., The Itinerary of Benjamin of Tudela (London, 1907); S. Bowman, The
Jews of Byzantium, 49-96.
ENIGMA OF ROMANIOTE TOMBS 123
By way of an appendix to this treatment of the 'problem' of Romaniote

tombs of Chalkis, I present this selection of seven epitaphs.
The grave quarried / for the patron in the year [5]356

of the creation the eminent / pleasant to all the sage Rabbi Absalom
is his name our Rabbi / Galimidi" is his name in every
plain language / the Most On-High shall be his salvation Amen.
This is the burial stone / of the eminent the Rabbi Joseph Malti
May his soul be bound up in the bond / of eternal life who was stricken to
death by a blow of judgment" on / Sunday nineteenth of Tamuz in the
year of the breast plate of judgment (Exodus, 28:15-31) [5358 (23 vii 1598)]
may his soul rest in paradise / and his three sons who are buried at his
feet the King the Most on High shall be his salvation.
This / is the burial stone / of the virtuous lady

Malka daughter of / the sage Rabbi Avraham Saloni[ko]
shall she rest in peace died on Monday
first of Adar in the year 5363 of the creation [12 ii 1603]"
This is the marking / of the burial stone which was inscribed

for the man who never committed a sin
the wise and exalted the Sage Rabbi / Elya" son of our honourable teacher
Rabbi Abraham Saloniko his memory / be of blessing who departed
on Friday of second Adar / 5373 of the creation [27 ii 1613]
May his soul be bound up in the bond
" This family has been known in Chalkis from the thirteenth century; see S. Bowman,
The Jews of Byzantium (1204-1453), (Alabama, 1985), 234-240; J. Starr, Romania (Paris, 1949),
III, 37-61.
" The wording suggests that R. Joseph Malti and his sons had died of the plague, cf.:
Isaiah 6:1. The name suggests the family came from the island of Malta.
13
Mentioning the name of the lady's father and not her husband means that her father
was of higher rank than her husband: in this case the eminence was his erudition. The
name Malka means Queen. The family originated in Thessalonike. The Jewish settlement in
Thessalonike was very old, as attested by the New Testament. In 1453, after the conquest of
Constantinople by the Ottomans, the Jewish community was transferred to the new capital
where they established a community called Selanik (Salonika). See M.A. Epstein, The
Ottoman Jewish Communities and their Role in the Fifteenth and Sixteenth Centuries (Freiburg,
1980), 178-179. No Romaniote Jews ever settled again in Thessalonike.
" Writing the name in Hebrew with the letter alef instead of the usual heh is a typical
Romaniote custom to avoid using the Tetragrammaton (the four-letter Name of God), a
'fence around the Law' to avoid taking the Lord's name in vain.
124 HANNA JACOBSOHN
of eternal life and God will guard him / in the king's dale. (2 Samuel,
18:18)
This / is the burial stone of the / physician the honourable Rabbi
Elya Halevi his memory of blessing
who departed in peace to his house of
eternal life in the month of Kislev in the
year of 5426 [December 1665] and life to
all Israel he passed away may his soul
be bound up in the bond of eternal life.
The tombstone / [marking] the burial of the sage Rabbi

Asher Halevi may he rest in paradise
who was taken to the house of eternal
life within the year of his marriage the
fifteenth of the month Elul in the year
'Thy dead shall live... ' (Isaiah 26:19) [31 viii 1670]
may his soul be bound up in the bond / of eternal life
The burial stone / of Mrs. Miriam15 may her soul be

bound up in the bond of eternal life / deceased on the [Holy] Shabbat
twenty-ninth of Shwat in the year
'He kisseth the lips... ' (Prov. 24:26) [5410 (24 ii 1656)]
her soul shall abide in prosperity (Ps. 25:13)16
A detailed analysis of these epitaphs, presented here in my own

translation, would be out of place. Written in Hebrew, the language
understood by their co-religionists and which marked them off to a
degree as outsiders to the surrounding Christian Orthodox population,
they provide a tantalizing glimpse into a very different world of
Byzantium.
Of the seven, two are women (one is the daughter of a rabbi, the other
a wife blessed in death); the five men are all rabbis with one described as
a physician as well. All are connected in their epitaphs to learning or
virtue or both. As such they may have been outside the 'normal' of their
own society, being members of the elite.
This paper has presented questions and problems rather than
solutions; its aim was largely to draw inside the orbit of the Byzantine
studies the vanished world of the Romaniot Jews.
'6
For this lady, neither family, husband's nor father's name is given.
76 In Jewish tradition, it is believed that only the righteous die on the Holy Sabbath,
and therefore it is considered as a great honour.
Plate 9.1: General View of the Romaniote Tombs at Challcis (photo: Hanna Jacobsohn)
Plate 9.2: Detail of one of the Romaniote Tombs at Chalkis
(photo: Hanna jacobsohn)
Plate 9.3: Detail of Hebrew Inscription of one of the Romaniote Tombs at Chalkis
Plate 9.4: Detail of Hebrew Inscription of one of the Romaniote Tombs at Chalkis
10. The Byzantine Outsider in Trade
(c.900-c.1350)
David Jacoby
Byzantine traders travelling or residing in foreign countries were for

obvious reasons outsiders. Surprisingly, however, at times we also find
them as outsiders in the empire itself, whether individually or
collectively. This seemingly paradoxical situation raises a series of
questions, only some of which can be addressed here. First, who in fact
were the Byzantine traders we are dealing with? Under what
circumstances did they become outsiders, and exactly in what sense?
How did they react as outsiders? Did their individual attitudes and
responses generate collective ones, and to what extent did the former and
the latter coincide? And, finally, what were the official, learned and
popular expressions of 'outsiderness' in trade and in what way did they
differ?
Traders are individuals acting as middlemen in the economic
diffusion of goods, distinct from those selling only their own surpluses or
products. It is impossible to arrive at a collective profile of Byzantine
traders in the period covered by this study. There was much social and
economic diversity among them, and they covered a wide spectrum of
activities. Though most of them were city-dwellers, they ranged from
urban peddlers and those travelling along the roads to retailers and
wholesalers at fairs, at markets and in cities, and to merchants conveying
goods over varying distances to these locations, whether by land, river or
sea.' Although ubiquitous, Byzantine traders remain rather elusive
' See John Tzetzes, Epistulae, ed. P.M. Leone (Leipzig, 1972), 79-84, no. 57; A.E. Laiou,
'Handler and Kaufleute auf dem Jahrmarkt', in G. Prinzing and D. Simon, eds, Fest and
A11tag in Byzanz (Munich, 1990), 53-70, 189-194 (notes), reprinted in A.E. Laiou, Gender,
Society and Economic Life in Byzantium (Aldershot, Hampshire, 1992), no. XI; A. Kazhdan,
'Byzantine Town and Trade as seen by Niketas Choniates', BSI 56 (1995), (= ETEOANOZ.
Studia byzantina ac slavica Vladimiro Vavrinek ad annum sexagesimmn quintum dedicata), 214-
129
130 DAVID JACOBY
characters. They are hidden behind a thick wall of rhetoric, social

prejudices and cultural stereotypes, and they lack a voice of their own to
express their attitudes, perceptions and frustrations. There are no
Byzantine business letters similar to those of Jewish merchants
discovered in the Cairo Genizah, nor to those written by Italian
merchants in the late Middle Ages? Neither do the few Byzantine notarial
deeds and wills that have survived reflect Byzantine traders. While
Byzantine court proceedings or legal treatises occasionally shed some
light on them, it is mainly on official documents and Byzantine authors,
with all the limitations imposed by their writings, as well as on Western
notarial sources and circumstantial evidence that we have to rely.
To be sure, some Byzantine writers stress the audacity of traders and
sailors engaging in maritime trade in their quest for profit. Such is the
case of the eleventh-century John Mauropous in one of his letters,
Constantine Manasses in a romance in the twelfth, and the historian
George Pachymeres in the early fourteenth century with respect to the
Genoese 3 However, regardless of their social origin, most Byzantine
authors identified with the values and attitudes of the Empire's elite,
especially that of Constantinople, and presented a negative view of
Byzantine traders. Their references to them or, for that matter, to any
traders, are clouded by bias and literary conventions and tainted by
social and cultural arrogance.' Trade, they claim, is a lowly occupation
involving lying and cheating, which does not befit respectable men .5 On
the whole, these views were supported by the normative statements of
sources.6
ecclesiastical
1030. Entre
216; E. Patlagean, 'Byzance et les marches du grand commerce, vers 830-vers
Pirenne et Polanyi', in Mercati e inercanti nell'alto ntedioevo: I'area euroasiatica e 1'area
mediterranea (Settimane di studio del Centro italiano di studi sull'alto medioevo, 40)
(Spoleto, 1993), 587-629, esp. 612-614; N. Oikonomides, 'Le marchand byzantin des
provinces (IXe-XIe s.)', in ibid., 633-660.
2
The Genizah letters have been extensively exploited by S.D. Goitein, A Mediterranean
of the Cairo
Society. The Jewish Connnunities of the Arab World as Portrayed in the Documents
Geniza (Berkeley and Los Angeles, 1967-1988).
' References and discussion in A.E. Laiou, 'Byzantine Traders and Seafearers', in Sp.
Vryonis, Jr, ed., The Greeks and the Sea (New Rochelle, NY, 1993), 79.
aOn snobbery and its literary expressions, see P. Magdalino, 'Byzantine Snobbery', in
1984),
M. Angold, ed., The Byzantine Aristocracy, IX to XIII Centuries (B.A.R., 5221) (Oxford,
58-78.
See A. Kazhdan, 'Byzantine Town', 214-216, 218.
See A. Laiou, 'God and Mammon: Credit, Trade and Profit and the Canonists', in N.
Oikonomides, ed., To Bv4'avno Kaza rov 12o at&va. Kavovuc6 dhca[o, icphzos rcac xocvmvia
[=Byzantium in the 12th Century. Canon Law, State and Society], (Athens, 1991), 261-300.
THE BYZANTINE OUSTIDER IN TRADE 131
It is still widely believed among Byzantinists that until the fourteenth

century the social elite professed and practised self-sufficiency as a
virtue, abstained from trade, and was contemptuous of profit.' Yet a
growing body of evidence implies that since the eleventh century some of
its members fulfilled a far more active role than hitherto ascribed to them
in the Byzantine economy, trade included. They as well as various
monasteries were involved in the commercialization and transportation
of rural products other than their own." Agents and employees acting on
behalf of the fisc or great landlords had the means to operate trade
networks to their own profit.9 In addition, some archontes acting as
entrepreneurs who had invested capital in the silk industry of Thebes
also engaged in the diffusion of the latter's finished products.10 Until the
fourteenth century, however, Byzantine authors on the whole wilfully
overlooked the activity of traders belonging to the higher ranks of society.
More generally, the actual Byzantine trader remains beyond the social
horizon of these authors. He becomes conspicuous only when intruding
upon the political stage or when his actions interfere with the affairs of
government, especially in Constantinople. Such was the case of
Kalomodios, a banker of that city who had amassed a fortune in long-
distance trade operations. His arrest and the confiscation of his property
in 1200 created serious turmoil in the capital among the 'people of the
marketplace', which ended only after his release and the restoration of his
assets." Kalomodios reminds us of the rich traders and craftsmen of
Constantinople who in the eleventh century gained access to the Senate.12
Since the activity of Italian traders was tightly connected with the
empire's external relations and had an impact on its government, it also
entered into the sphere of interest of Byzantine authors. Paradoxically,
precisely thanks to the latter's concern with Italian traders we are
' N. Oikonomides, Hommes d'affaires grecs et latins a Constantinople (XIIIe-XVe siecles)

(Montreal and Paris, 1979), 86, 119-123, argues that the members of the Byzantine elite
turned to trade only after losing their landed property in Asia Minor and in the Balkans in
the fourteenth century. This is still the prevailing view.
a
I shall deal with this subject in a forthcoming study.
9 See P. Magdalino, The Empire of Manuel I Komnenos, 1143-1180 (Cambridge, 1993),
139 and n. 128, 144,149-150,156-159,170 and n. 243.
"° See D. Jacoby, 'Silk in Western Byzantium before the Fourth Crusade', BZ 84/85
(1991-1992), 470-488, reprinted in D. Jacoby, Trade, Commodities and Shipping in the Medieval
Mediterranean (Aldershot, 1997), no. VII.
" Niketas Choniates, Historia, ed. J.L. van Dieten (Berlin and New York, 1975) (CFHB,
XI/1), 523-524.
12
See P. Lemerle, Cinq etudes stir le XIe siecle byzantin (Paris, 1977), 287-293.
132 DAVID JACOBY
sometimes able to gain a better knowledge of Byzantine outsiders in

trade.
It is primarily in Constantinople that these can be traced. Until the
Latin conquest of 1204 the imperial capital was the focus of the Byzantine
economic system, and the preservation of this function was considered by
the imperial government a matter of vital importance. While
Constantinople's economy was tightly supervised precisely for that
reason, no such effective control could be exercised in the provinces or at
the borders of the empire. Therefore, traders residing outside the capital
were viewed with mistrust, regardless of their origin. 'EOvuco't or
foreigners such as Muslims, Syrians, Bulgarians and Rus reaching
Constantinople were subject to residential segregation in mitata, special
lodgings where they and their transactions could be easily supervised.
The period of their sojourn was limited, and their trade was restricted in
various ways.73 Restrictions also applied in various circumstances to the
E co nxot or E coOsv i pxoµsvoi, terms referring to those residing outside
Constantinople, in particular the inhabitants of the provinces. As a result,
they too became outsiders when trading in the capital. Incidentally, in
accordance with Byzantine political ideology and terminology, Venice
was considered part of the empire and, therefore, its inhabitants appear
as extranei, the equivalent of Greek exotikoi, in the Latin version of the
sigillion of 992 which Basil II and Constantine VIII issued in their favour.'
This fiction was still maintained in 1198 in the chrysobull of Alexios III
Angelos.15 While the Jews of the empire were considered a distinct ethnic
and religious group and subject to residential segregation and special
" See R.S. Lopez, 'Silk Industry in the Byzantine Empire', Speculum 20 (1945), 25-35,
reprinted in R.S. Lopez, Byzantium and the World around it: Economic and Institutional
Relations (London, 1978), no. III.
" G.L.Fr. Tafel and G.M. Thomas, eds, Urkunden zur alteren Handels- and
Staatsgeschichte der Republik Venedig (Vienna, 1856-1857) (hereafter: TTh), I, 36-39, with
wrong dating. All previous editions are superseded now by that of M. Pozza and G.
Ravegnani, I trattati con Bisanzio, 992-1198 (Pacta veneta, 4) (Venice, 1993), 21-25, yet this
one too requires emendations, suggested in my review in Mediterranean Historical Review 9
(1994), 139-143. On the terms used in this document, the Greek version of which has not
survived, see J. Koder, 'Das Sigillion von 992 - eine "aussenpolitische" Urkunde?', BSI 52
(1991), 40-44.
" TTh, I, 276, with wrong dating; new ed. Pozza-Ravegnani, Trattati, 136, §17: 'inter
extraneos et indigenas cives'.
taxation,16 there is no evidence that the status of Jewish traders differed

from that of their Christian counterparts.
The position of Byzantine provincial traders as outsiders in
Constantinople is well illustrated in the tenth century. Their sojourn was
limited to three months and their goods strictly controlled at arrival and
departure.17 Those importing silk were obliged to reside in mitata, where
the fibre was sold.18 They were not allowed to export silk from the city.19
The sale of specific types of silk textiles to provincial traders was either
forbidden or in any event strictly supervised.20 The government also
prohibited and severely punished the transfer of highly skilled craftsmen
engaged in the manufacturing of silk textiles to both ethnikoi and exotikoi.
Like the aliens, provincial traders were considered potential smugglers
liable to serve as intermediaries in the illegal export of goods and
.21
technical expertise to foreign countries, harmful to the empire For that
same reason the sigillion of 992 forbade Venetian ships leaving
Constantinople for the Byzantine provinces of Southern Italy to take on
board Latin traders from Amalfi, Bari and elsewhere, as well as Jews
from that region. Strangely, that document does not refer to Greeks, and
one may wonder whether they enjoyed a favoured treatment in this
respect." It is unclear how long the stringent regulations of the tenth
century were enforced. Whatever the case, the 'outsiderness' of provincial
traders was not limited to the capital, nor by legal and administrative
impediments, more examples of which could be easily adduced. The
residents of Constantinople also considered them outsiders, distrusted
them collectively, and viewed them with contempt in the same way as
they did foreigners. According to the twelfth-century John Tzetzes,
'Cretans and Turks, Alans, Rhodians and Chiots' were 'notorious
16 See D. Jacoby, 'Les quartiers juifs de Constantinople A 1'epoque byzantine', B 37

(1967), 168-196, reprinted in D. Jacoby, Societe et demographie a Byzance et en Romanie latine
(London, 1975), no. H.
11 J. Koder, ed. and tr., Das Eparchenbuch Leons des Weisen. Einfuhrung, Edition,
Ubersetzung and Indices (CFHB, XXXIII) (Vienna, 1991) (hereafter: EB), 20.1-2.
'B EB, 6.5. My interpretation differs here from that of Koder, who considers these to be
foreigners. I shall fully discuss all issues regarding the terms exotikoi and ethnikoi, as well as
silk in EB, in my forthcoming book on the Byzantine silk industry.
19
EB, 6.16.
EB, 4.1, 8.3.
Z' EB, 8.7. This role is clearly stated with respect to textiles in EB, 4.1.
My reading, translation and interpretation of this provision appear in the review
cited above, note 14.
134 DAVID JACOBY
thieves'." This capital-centred attitude toward the inhabitants of the

provinces was a recurrent theme of Byzantine snobbery.29
In the political and social context of the empire, relatives of the
emperors, high-ranking imperial officials and military commanders as
well as great landowners were likely to benefit from imperial privileges,
including tax exemptions on trade and transportation. The same applied
to ecclesiastical institutions because of their spiritual functions.25 The
Venetians did not belong to either category, yet nevertheless were
granted such privileges. It is generally believed that this already occurred
in 992. In fact, however, the Venetians obtained then no more than a
return to the customary lump sum previously paid by Venetian ships
sailing past Abydos, at the mouth of the Dardanelles, and the prevention
of its increase by unlawful exactions.26 The trade and maritime privileges
bestowed by Alexios I Komnenos upon Venice in 1082 were clearly of a
completely different order.27 First, fiscal privileges enjoyed by Byzantine
individuals or institutions were limited in extent, and both their
geographic range and their practical effects on Byzantine trade were
fairly restricted. By contrast, the Venetians benefited from sweeping
collective exemptions. Once they were granted freedom of movement and
residence without any time limitation,"' their activity became of constant
relevance to all Byzantine traders and carriers, though in practice its
impact was felt mainly in the cities and areas they visited, Constantinople
in particular. As a result, paradoxically all Byzantine traders and carriers
with few exceptions only became outsiders in 1082, although they
constituted the majority among those active in the empire, and that status
persisted until the fall of Byzantium. The Venetian privileges of 1082
created a precedent, followed by the grant of others to Pisa from 1111 and
to Genoa from 1155, although these were less extensive and their
" John Tzetzes, Historiae, XIII, vv. 354-362, ed. P.A.M. Leone (Naples, 1968), 528.
24
See, for example, Nicholas Mesarites, Die Palastrevolution des Johannes Komnenos, ed.
A. Heisenberg (Wiirzburg, 1907),39.
ss
See A. Harvey, Economic Expansion in the Byzantine Empire 900-1200 (Cambridge,
1989), 69-70, 238-241.
26 See S. Borsari, Venezia e Bisanzio nel XII secolo. I rapporti economici (Venice, 1988), 16-
17.
TTh, I, 43-49; new edition by Pozza-Ravegnani, Trattati, 35-45.
Amalfitans already enjoyed earlier in the eleventh century the lifting of this
limitation: see Lopez, 'Silk Industry', 40.
geographic range more limited until 1192.29 The cumulative effect of the
process set in motion in 1082 upon Byzantine traders was compounded
by the growing role of Italian middlemen within the empire's inter-
regional trade and shipping networks.30 The position of Venetian traders
was further boosted in 1198, when Alexios III Angelos agreed that in
Constantinople Venetian judges should be empowered to try pecuniary
suits when Greek plaintiffs opposed Venetians 31 For the first time ever a
Byzantine emperor was compelled to admit the exercise of foreign
jurisdiction over his own subjects on imperial soil.
The establishment of the Venetian quarter in Constantinople in 1082
was initially intended to supply temporary lodgings and storage to
visiting merchants between two shipping seasons. Yet shortly afterwards
some Venetians began to prolong their residence in the city and over time
a growing number of them, both visiting and settled traders, resided
outside the original quarter. Venice requested the latter's enlargement,
which was bound to enhance its revenue from property, taxation and
fines. Manuel I Komnenos agreed in 1148, since it suited the traditional
Byzantine policy aimed at the residential concentration of Latins in the
capital,32 different from the segregation implemented with respect to
other aliens33 After 1148 some Venetians intending to remain
permanently in the city nevertheless continued to reside or settle outside
the enlarged quarter. A number of them wedded Greek women and
acquired houses beyond its boundaries, transactions apparently
prohibited to aliens in Constantinople. These Venetians combined the
privileges and exemptions of Venetian citizens with the rights of
Byzantine subjects, a situation causing losses to the imperial treasury,
affecting the activity of Byzantine outsiders in trade, and deeply resented
2Y
See D. Jacoby, 'Italian Privileges and Trade in Byzantium before the Fourth Crusade:
A Reconsideration', Anuario de estudios ntedievales 24 (1994), 349-368, repinted in Jacoby,
Trade, no. H.
'° On this role, see Laiou, 'Byzantine Traders', 83-87,90-91.
31 TTh, I, 273-276, with wrong dating; new edition, Pozza-Ravegnani, Trattati, 132-
135, §16.
'Z TTh, I, 109-113; new edition, Pozza-Ravegnani, Trattati, 70-75.
In 1082 Alexios I granted houses 'in quibus Venetici manent et Greci': TTh, I, 52, and
new edition Pozza-Ravegnani, Trattati, 39, §5; Greeks also resided in the Venetian quarter
in 1189 and 1195: L. Lanfranchi, ed., S. Giorgio Maggiore (Fonti per la Storia di Venezia, Sez.
II: Archivi ecclesiastici) (Venice, 1967-1974), II, nos 500, 581. Such was also the case in the
Genoese quarter in 1202: G. Bertolotto, ed., 'Nuova serie di documenti sulle relazioni di
Genova con 1'Impero bizantino', Atti della Society Ligure di Storia Patria 28 (1897), 475-476
(Greek), 483-484 (Latin).
136 DAVID JACOBY
among the population of the capital. However, some time before 1171
Manuel I compelled these Venetians to choose between Venetian and
Byzantine status, with all the relevant rights, restrictions and obligations
deriving therefrom.39 It should be noted that the presence of Italian
traders in provincial cities did not raise the same problems. From
developments occurring in Halmyros we may gather that these cities
witnessed a spontaneous concentration of Italians along national lines,
yet there was no establishment of privileged quarters with well-defined
boundaries by imperial order. Nor were there, it seems, any legal or
administrative impediments to Venetian and Pisan purchases of real
estate from Greeks 35
The developments particular to Constantinople described above were
not restricted to Venetian traders. Some Pisans also became imperial
subjects and resided outside their city's quarter. Such was the case of
Signoretto, apparently a trader judging by the large fortune he left at his
death in 1165. In addition, Pisan sailors who had opted for Byzantine
citizenship are attested in 1174 36 William of Tyre's account of the attack
on the Latin quarters in April 1182 reveals that Pisans and Genoese too
occasionally married Greek women, although it is unclear where they
were residing and whether they had become Byzantine citizens.37 Some of
John Kinnamos, Epitome, VI, 10, 281-282. On the whole issue, see D. Jacoby, 'La
dimension demografica e sociale', in G. Cracco and G. Ortalli, eds, Storia di Venezia, II,
L'etd del Comune (Rome, 1995), 691-692. Kinnamos's complex formulation seems to suggest
that those who opted for Byzantine status became bourgesioi of the emperor, yet this
common interpretation is mistaken. The term stands for permanent residents as opposed
to visiting traders, in conformity with burdened in Italian contemporary usage, to which
Kinnamos alludes: see D. Jacoby, 'Les Venitiens naturalises dans ('Empire byzantin: un
aspect de ('expansion de Venise en Romanie du XIIie au milieu du We siecle', TM 8 (1981),
219, reprinted in D. Jacoby, Studies on the Crusader States and on Venetian Expansion
(Northampton, 1989), no. IX.
35 On these Italian purchases and quarters, see Borsari, Venezia, 34-35; Borsari, 'Pisani
a Bisanzio nel XII secolo', Bollettino Storico Pisano 60 (1991), 65-66. One should note that
until 1192 the Pisans did not enjoy any tax exemptions on the sale of goods purchased in
the empire itself, nor on exports: see Jacoby, 'Italian Privileges', 357-359.
36
G. Miiller, ed., Docunienti sulle relazioni delle citta toscane coll'Oriente cristiano e coi
Turchifino all'anno MDXXXI (Florence, 1879), 11-13, no. 10; see Borsari, Venezia, 50. On the
location of Signoretto's house, see R.-J. Lilie, Handel and Politik zwischen dent byzantinischen
Reich and den italienischen Konununen Venedig, Pisa and Genua in der Epoche der Koinnenen and
der Angeloi (1081-1204) (Amsterdam, 1984), 299. Despite having become a Byzantine
citizen, Signoretto willed his fortune to Pisan churches. I am not dealing here with Italians
who were not traders and entered imperial service in various capacities.
" Guillaume de Tyr, Chronique, 22.13, ed. R.B.C. Huygens (Corpus Christianorum,
Continuatio Mediaevalis, LIII-LIII A) (Turnhout, 1986), 1024. On the circumstances, see C.M.
them sought shelter with members of the Byzantine elite, with whom
they obviously entertained friendly relations, whether as a result of
intermarriage, business, or both.38 Yet other Pisans living for many years
or born in Constantinople retained their original status. A number of
these testified in 1200 about the ecclesiastical rights previously exercised
by the prior of the Pisan churches in Constantinople 39 At the time of the
Fourth Crusade we find once more Venetians residing outside their
national quarter. Soon after the Latin conquest of 13 April 1204 one of
them, a trader on particularly good terms with Niketas Choniates, joined
him with family and belongings. A few days later all of them moved to a
house inhabited by other Venetians which, however, had to be evacuated
since it was situated within the portion of the city allotted to the Frankish
knights. It was thus located at a substantial distance from the Venetian
quarter existing before the conquest.40 We do not know whether the
regulation issued by Manuel I was still applied and, therefore, whether
these Venetians, some possibly wedded to Greek women, had retained
their citizenship or had become imperial subjects.
In the late eleventh century the Byzantines paid little attention to the
Venetians active in the empire.91 Yet their perceptions and attitudes with
respect to Italians changed drastically in the course of the twelfth century,
when the latter expanded their trading and became more visible in the
empire and especially in Constantinople. In various ways Anna
Komnene, John Kinnamos and Niketas Choniates in the twelfth, Patriarch
Gregory of Cyprus in the thirteenth, Patriarch Athanasius I, Alexios
Makrembolitis and Nikephoros Gregoras in the fourteenth century,
among others, point to specific collective characteristics and patterns of
behaviour of the Italians. They accuse them of being rude, corrupt,
malicious, disloyal, haughty and aggressive, and depict them as
Brand, Byzantium confronts the West, 1180-1204 (Cambridge, MA, 1968), 39-42. There were
no Venetian residents in the city from 1171 to 1183: see D. Jacoby, 'Conrad, Marquis of
Montferrat, and the Kingdom of Jerusalem (1187-1192)', in L. Balletto, ed., Atti del
Congresso Internazionale 'Dai feudi monferrini e dal Piemmite ai nuovi mondi oltre gli Oceani',
Alessandria, 2-6 Aprile 1990 (Alessandria,1993), 221, reprinted in Jacoby, Trade, no. IV.
38
Niketas Choniates, Historia, 251.
39 Muller, Documenti, 81, no. 51. See Borsari, 'Pisani a Bisanzio', 67, n. 49, and Lilie,
Handel, 296-300.
"0Niketas Choniates, Historia, 588. See also D. Jacoby, 'The Venetian Quarter of
Constantinople from 1082 to 1261: Topographical Considerations', in C. Sode and S.A.
Takacs, eds, Novum Millennium (Aldershot, 2000),171-192, and map.
" See M. Angold, The Byzantine Empire, 1025-1204. A Political History (London and
New York, 1984), 202.
138 DAVID JACOBY
contemptuous of Byzantine subjects of high rank, challenging imperial

power and the Byzantine church, ungrateful for the imperial benefits
bestowed upon them, and enriching themselves at the expense of the
empire.42 With respect to Italians, then, regardless of whether they were
traders, Byzantine authors shared some basic views deeply imbued with
social stereotypes regarding traders in general, mingled with ethnic and
cultural stereotypes about aliens.43 These were amplified by the
frustration deriving from the recurrent need of the empire to rely on the
naval power of the Italian maritime cities, the growing presence of the
Italians in imperial service, especially in the reign of Manuel I,44 and the
seemingly unstoppable Italian economic expansion, even more obvious
after 1261. Yet animosity was not the only feeling expressed by these
authors. While critical of the Latins and blaming them collectively for all
kinds of evil, Niketas Choniates could not conceal his admiration for
Venetian trading and maritime skills,45 and entertained good relations
with some Venetians, as noted earlier. It remains to be seen to what
extent this ambivalent approach was shared at various levels of
Byzantine society and particularly among Byzantine outsiders in trade.
The latter's attitudes were moulded by immediate and concrete
concerns, rather than by matters of imperial prestige, political power,
ethnic diversity or religious identity. The Byzantine outsider in trade had
a choice between four alternatives: he could resign himself to his fate,
with all the disadvantages it implied; vent his frustrations in word and
deed, to the point of acting aggressively toward insiders; find ways to
improve his economic condition by co-operating with them; or attempt to
proceed beyond that stage, the ultimate achievement being the crossing
of the divide between outsider and insider. These four alternatives were
reflected throughout the period following 1082 in some recurrent
behavioural patterns which, however, varied according to the trader's
42 References and discussion in A.E. Laiou, 'Monopoly and Privilege: the Byzantine
Reaction to the Genoese Presence in the Black Sea', in L. Balletto, ed., Oriente e Occidente tra
medioevo ed eta moderna. Studi in onore di Geo Pistarino (Genoa, 1997), 676-686; A. Laiou,
'L'interpretation byzantine de 1'expansion occidentale (XIe-XIIe siecles)' in M. Balard and
A. Ducellier, eds, Le partage du monde. Echanges et colonisation dans la Mediterranee medievale
(Paris, 1998), 173-178. I am not dealing here with ecclesiastical literature.
" M. Angold, Church and Society in Byzantium under the Comneni, 1081-1261,
(Cambridge, 1995), 506-514, overestimates the importance of theological matters in the
shaping of anti-Latin attitudes in Byzantine society at large.
See Angold, Byzantine Empire, 203-206; Magdalino, Manuel 1, 221-226.
95 Niketas Choniates, Historia, 171.
social and economic standing, his specific role in trade, and the particular
circumstances in which he operated.
To be sure, Byzantine traders resented their position as outsiders with
respect to the privileged Italians, especially since these were foreigners,
yet had no choice but to conduct business with them. These deals may
have even alleviated somewhat their animosity, since they were generally
more advantageous than with Byzantine subjects. Indeed, as a result of
their tax exemptions, especially the Venetians could afford to pay more
for the goods they acquired and to sell at lower prices than the Byzantine
trader, while still remaining competitive. These conditions may explain
why some archontes of the Peloponnese acting as middlemen sold large
quantities of oil to Italian wholesale traders, while others in Thebes sold
silk textiles to Venetian merchants.' In addition to archontes, Byzantine
wholesalers in some important commercial centres such as Halmyros also
appear among the main trading partners of the Italians in the twelfth
century.47 On the other hand, there must have been Byzantine traders and
carriers who strongly objected to the expansion of Italian involvement in
domestic Byzantine trade and transportation. As noted earlier, John
Tzetzes mentions Cretans, Rhodians and others coming to Constantinople
on business, to which we may add the monks or agents of monasteries
such as St John of Patmos.48 Animosity must have been particularly strong
among Byzantine retailers in the capital, exposed to the competition of
Italian traders whose operations in their respective quarters were
controlled neither by the city's Prefect nor by the gilds. Cretan cheese, as
well as oil and wine were sold in the Venetian quarter from the first half
of the twelfth century,49 and wine presumably also in the other Italian
quarters.-'o
The intermarriage of Italian traders with Greeks was decried by
Byzantine authors as a device used by the former to exploit maliciously
46
See above, note 30, and Jacoby, 'Silk in Western Byzantium', 466-467, 479, 490-497,
500.
47 In Halmyros two members of the Greek family Pillari sold contiguous plots of land
to Venetians, respectively, before 1150 and 1156: see Borsari, Venezia, 35. One piece was
located on the sea shore, which suggests that these Greeks were traders: Lanfranchi, S.
Giorgio Maggiore, II, no. 232.
4e See above, note 23.
See Jacoby, 'Silk in Western Byzantium', 494 and n. 239; TTh, I, 67-74, and new
edition in Lanfranchi, S. Giorgio Maggiore, II, no. 224: Constantinople in 1107; TTh, I, 107-
108: use of Venetian weights and measures in Rhaidestos before 1147.
so
As suggested for the Pisan quarter: Muller, Documenti,10, no. 8.
140 DAVID JACOBY
the privileges bestowed upon them," and modem historians have

followed their lead in this respect. It is obvious, though, that these
marriages took place because they suited the interests of both parties. For
a Greek offering his daughter in marriage to a Venetian trader must have
often, if not always, been coupled with business association.
Undoubtedly, such a co-operation also took place without marital bonds.
While remaining an outsider, the Byzantine trader could benefit to some
extent from the advantages enjoyed by his Italian partner, though
presumably under the terms imposed by the latter. It was common
practice among privileged Italian merchants to enlarge the volume of
their business by handling capital and goods belonging to outsiders. At
the imperial customs they declared these goods as their own so as to
exempt them totally or partially from Byzantine taxation, in accordance
with their respective privileges.52 In all likelihood they acted similarly
within their respective national quarter in Constantinople or national
community in provincial cities,53 paying the lower tariff applied to fellow-
citizens for the weighing and measuring of merchandise, as attested in
1147 for the Venetians in Rhaidestos and in 1162 for the Pisans in the
capita1.54 The first practice was strongly opposed by the Byzantine
authorities, as attested explicitly by the Byzantine Venetian treaty of 1265,
and may have occasionally led to the confiscation of goods handled by
Italian traders accused of fraud 55 As for the Italian maritime cities, they
attempted to prevent deception in their own quarters 56
The attitude of Byzantine officials toward Italian traders warrants
some attention, especially that of kommerkiarioi who were in direct contact
51 See above, 135-136. Such unions generated conflicting demands of the Byzantine
and Latin clergy regarding the marriage ceremonial and the religious allegiance of the
Italian partners: see P. Schreiner, 'Untersuchungen zu den Niederlassungen westlicher
Kaufleute im Byzantinischen Reich des 11. and 12. Jahrhunderts', ByzForsch 7 (1979), 186-
188, and Angold, Byzantine Empire, 208. Yet these were not impediments to intermarriage.
On differences in exemptions until the Fourth Crusade, see above, note 29.
On the latter, see above, 136.
See above, notes 49 and 50.
55
TTh III 73 (Greek), 84 (Latin). The practice was certainly also common before 1204.
On confiscation, see G. Makris, Studien zur spatbyzantinischen Schii fahrt (Collana storica di
fonti e studi, diretta da Geo Pistarino, 52) (Genova, 1988),258.
There is no direct evidence for the empire, yet the Venetian authorities took
56
measures to counter similar practices in thirteenth-century Acre: see D. Jacoby,

'L'expansion occidentale dans le Levant: les Venitiens a Acre dans la seconde moitie du
treizieme siecle', Journal of Medieval History 3 (1977), 234-236, reprinted in D. Jacoby,
Recherches stir la Mediterranee orientale du XIIe au XVe siecle. Peoples, societes, economies
(London, 1979), no. VII.
with them. Time and again the Italian maritime powers complained
about officials disregarding the exemptions to which their respective
traders were entitled. Venice complained about illegal exactions of the
kommerkion or sales and customs tax in 1126 and 1136 and, more
generally, about the infringement of Venetian privileges throughout the
empire in 1278, while Genoa demanded compensations for its traders in
1174, 1290 and 1294.57 Even if we believe that these incidents, which
appear to have been rather common, were due to overzealous imperial
officials, the personal interests of customs officials should not be
excluded. They were particularly well placed for the pursuit of private
profit by the exertion of pressure and the extortion of bribes.58 To be sure,
they spared neither Byzantine nor foreign traders, yet one may wonder
whether they did not target particularly the Italian insider. There is good
reason to believe that various officials were personally involved in
business, viewed the Italian trader as a competitor, and had a vested
interest in curtailing his activity and his profits.59 Yet the actions of
customs officials may have also reflected collective attitudes of the
Byzantine traders, resentful of the privileged foreigner. A similar attitude
of resentment was apparently common among Byzantine corsairs and
pirates, although profit was clearly their primary motive. It may well
explain a colourful incident that took place in 1274. A Venetian ship was
caught in the Aegean by Bulgarino of Ania, a Latin sea-captain operating
as Byzantine corsair. When the Venetians on board presented him
documents stating their national identity, he threw them to the ground
and trampled them, shouting that he was precisely looking for
Venetians.60
5' See Jacoby, 'Italian Privileges and Trade', 354-356; G. Morgan, 'The Venetian Claims
Commission of 1278', BZ 69 (1976), 411-438; C. Imperiale di Sant'Angelo, ed., Codice
diplomatico della Repubblica di Genova (Rome, 1936-1942), 11, 206-222; A.E. Laiou,
Constantinople and the Latins. The Foreign Policy of Andronicus II, 1282-1328 (Cambridge, MA,
1972), 72-73.
5a
See the fourteenth-century Francesco Balducci Pegolotti, La pratica della mercatura,
ed. A. Evans (Cambridge, MA, 1936), 42, on bribes to kommerkiarioi, their scribes and their
interpreters; also Kl.-P. Matschke, 'Tore, Torwachter and Torzollner von Konstantinopel in
spatbyzantinischer Zeit', Jahrbuch fur Regionalgeschichte, 16/11 (1989), 41-57. The
information is also relevant for earlier periods.
59 For evidence from the Palaeologan era, see Makris, Studien, 252-256.
TTh, III, 219; see also Morgan, 'The Venetian Claims Commission', 424, and for the
dating, 431.
142 DAVID JACOBY
There has been much speculation about the number of Latins staying
in Constantinople at any given time in the twelfth century.61 Whatever the
actual figure, it is the collective image of the Italians as perceived by the
city's inhabitants that counted when it came to popular reaction. We have
already noted the friendly relations of some Pisan and Genoese traders
with members of the Byzantine elite, as illustrated in 1182, and this was
presumably also the case of Venetians. It is rather unlikely that Byzantine
wholesalers conducting business with Italians should have been among
the Greeks and other residents of Constantinople taking part in the
second assault on the Genoese quarter in 1162,62 or in the massacre of the
Latins in 1182.63 On the other hand, retailers facing severe Italian
competition, as noted earlier, may well have joined the attacking crowds.
Rather than the direct confrontation between Byzantine outsiders and
Italian insiders in trade, the aggressiveness of the population appears to
have been fuelled by the rapidly expanding market economy. As
nowadays in some countries, it generated deepening economic and social
inequalities, more visible and more vividly perceived than before, and as
often frustration found its outlet in intense xenophobia.69 The atrocities
committed in 1182 by the Constantinopolitan rabble against the Latin
clergy provided an extreme manifestation of these widely shared
collective attitudes.65 Yet violence erupted also in some provincial cities.
In 1197 Pisa requested the rebuilding and restitution of Pisan churches,
houses, enibolon or commercial premises, and the hospice for passing
traders in Halmyros, all apparently damaged or destroyed in 1182.66
The divide between Latin insider and Byzantine outsider in trade in
Constantinople deepened under Latin rule, which extended from 1204 to
1261. Yet the city also witnessed then some important developments,
which are of particular interest for the following period. Latin rule
favoured Venetian citizens, who enjoyed a privileged status in their
See P. Schreiner, 'Untersuchungen', 182-186; Lilie, Handel, 290-296, 539-540.

62
L.T. Belgrano and C. Imperiale di Sant'Angelo, eds, Annali genovesi di Caffaro e de'
suoi continuatori dal MXCIX al MCCXCIII (Rome, 1890-1929), I, 67-68.
w
Niketas Choniates, Historia, 250-251; Guillaume de Tyr, Chronique, 22. 13, ed.
Huygens, 1022-1024.
See M. Angold, 'The Shaping of the Medieval Byzantine "City"', ByzForsch 10
(1985), 32-34. However, I do not share the author's assessment that the Italian impact on
the Byzantine economy was decisive.
65
See above, note 63.
Miiller, Documenti, 71, no. 44.
national quarter, the urban focus of commerce.67 Another group enjoying

Venetian status and that of insiders in trade consisted of those born of the
marriage or the extra-marital relations of a Venetian father and a Greek
mother, known as gasmouloi or basmoudoi.' According to Venetian law, in
either case the father transmitted his Venetian status to his offspring in
the same territory, though not Venetian citizenship. Since these
descendants generally adopted their father's surname in order to
promote their own social standing, it is almost impossible to detect
them.69
Greeks, however, were not excluded from Constantinople's trade,
although lack of direct evidence prevents any assessment of their role in
its framework. Some of them obviously took advantage of their
acquaintance with the resources networks of
and commercial
Constantinople's hinterland to ensure their continuing participation in
the city's provisioning in foodstuffs. Greeks are attested as lease-holders
in the section of the Venetian quarter located between the Golden Horn
and the northern city wall, the urban area most involved in maritime
trade in the Latin period.70 Their residence in that quarter may have been
related to their status in trade. While in Constantinople they remained
outsiders with respect to Venetian citizens, being a Venetian subject in the
city apparently entailed certain advantages. Indeed, later sources reveal
that Venice extended diplomatic protection to the subjects of its territories
overseas trading in Romania and elsewhere and insisted upon their right
6'
See D. Jacoby, 'Venetian Settlers in Latin Constantinople (1204-1261): Rich or
Poor?', in Ch.A. Maltezou, ed., ITRovcioi icai ;rrmxot ar) v lcotwiwla rag f2Agvo2artvucfjg
Avarodi7S [=Ricchi e poveri nella society dell'Oriente grecolatino), (Biblioteca dell'Istituto
ellenico di Studi bizantini e postbizantini di Venezia, no. 19), (Venezia, 1998), 181-204.
ba There were also gasntouloi born of a Latin, though non-Venetian father: see Jacoby,
'Venitiens naturalises', 221. G. Makris, 'Die Gasmulen', Thesaurismata 22 (1992), 83-84,
argues that since Marco Polo's voyage account uses the French form guasmul, the gasmouloi
who were subjected to the French-speaking administration of the Latin emperors must
have been more numerous than Venetian gasntouloi. However, he overlooks the fact that
Polo's account was written in French and, therefore, cannot provide any indication in this
respect.
69
Examples in Venetian Crete in D. Jacoby, 'Les etats latins en Romanie: phenomenes
sociaux et economiques (1204-1350 environ)', XVe Congres international d'etudes byzantines
(Athenes, 1976), Rapports et co-rapports, 1/3 (Athens, 1976), 29-30, reprinted in D. Jacoby,
Recherches, no. I. Contrary to Makris, 'Gasmulen', 69-70, there is no indication whatsoever
that the status was limited to the legal offspring of mixed parentage.
70 Greek names are mentioned by Ch. Maltezou, 'Il quartiere veneziano di
Costantinopoli (Scali marittimi)', Thesatrismata 15 (1978), 40 and 57-61 (index). On the area
in which they resided, see Jacoby, 'Venetian Settlers', 189-196.
144 DAVID JACOBY
to enjoy the same fiscal privileges as Venetian citizens, though not in

Venice itself."
It is in this general context that Philippos Vistariti, first attested in
1254, warrants our attention. Vistariti is obviously a transcription of
Pea'ctiapitiric, a term applied in twelfth-century Byzantium to imperial
wardrobe guards and members of a contingent participating in military
expeditions, and in the thirteenth century to some officials levying taxes
in the provinces.' Philippos, however, had clearly inherited the
administrative term from his father or a forefather having exercised the
function of vestiarites and used it as surname.73 If Philippos himself had
served the Latin emperors in that capacity, there would have been no
apparent reason for Venice to bestow upon him Venetian citizenship in
1254.' Judging by his Greek ' name, Philippos Vistariti was not a
gasmoulos, nor was he a Greek included among Venice's subjects in
Constantinople. Considering Venice's motivations in the grant of
Venetian status in that period, he must have been a subject of the Latin
emperor, have closely co-operated with Venetian officials in
Constantinople, and was most likely a trader who had loaned money to
the Commune.75 A provision attached to his privilege lends support to
this assumption. His obligation to marry a Venetian woman, as proof of
his genuine intention to integrate within the local Venetian community,
suggests that he was well acquainted with the latter's members. To be
sure, in 1254 his new status as Venetian citizen was restricted to Romania,
yet in this region he became an insider in trade. In all likelihood Vistariti
wedded a Venetian woman in Constantinople and both joined the 3,000
Latins, mostly Venetians, who abandoned the city in 1261.76 In 1264
" On the distinction between Venetian citizenship and nationality, see Jacoby,
'Venitiens naturalises', 217-220.
' Anne Comnene, Alexiade, IV, 3, ed. B. Leib (Paris, 1937-1945), I, 152,1-4; R.
Guilland, 'Protovestiarite', RSBN 4 (1967), 3-4, reprinted in R. Guilland, Titres et functions de
I'Empire byzantin (London, 1976), no. XV; R. Guilland, Recherches stir les institutions
byzantines (Amsterdam, 1967), I, 589; ODB, III: 2163, s. v. Vestiarites.
The same surname is attested in 1348-1349: PLP, no. 2,755.
R. Cessi, ed., Deliberazioni del Maggior Consiglio di Venezia (Bologna, 1931-1950), II,
143, §7.
75Such was apparently the case of the Jew David of Negroponte, a subject of one of
the island's feudal lords, who in 1268 obtained Venetian nationality: see D. Jacoby, 'On the
Status of the Jews in the Venetian Colonies in the Middle Ages', Zion 28 (1963), 59-64 (in
Hebrew).
76 On these Latins, see D.J. Geanakoplos, Emperor Michael Palaeologus and the West,
1258-1282. A Study in Byzantine-Latin Relations (Cambridge, MA, 1959),113-114.
Vistariti obtained full and unrestricted citizenship 'in Venice and

everywhere', which implies that by then he was established in Venice
itself." In view of the fragmentary state of thirteenth-century Venetian
documentation, we do not know whether other Greeks of Constantinople
similarly obtained Venetian citizenship limited to Romania in the Latin
period.
The case of Philippos Vistariti has been considered here at some
length, in view of its significance for later developments. While foreigners
residing for some time in the Italian maritime cities occasionally obtained
citizenship, his is the earliest known instance of a Greek living in the
former territories of the empire being granted Venetian citizenship and
thus crossing the line separating Byzantine outsiders from Venetian
insiders in trade. More importantly, the privilege bestowed upon Vistariti
heralds a new Venetian policy in this respect in the Palaeologan period,
especially in Constantinople. Venice not only insisted upon the Venetian
status of its own gasmouloi, their descendants, and its colonial subjects.78
Regardless of their place of residence, it also naturalized a growing
number of Byzantine subjects eager to obtain Venetian identity and
staunchly defended their new status.79 Genoa too granted naturalization
to Byzantine subjects, including traders. Yet, in addition, the
establishment of its quarter in Pera in the 1260s and the latter's expansion
in 1303 entailed for the Greeks remaining within its boundaries the
benefit of Genoese status and that of insiders in trade.80
To some extent Venetian and Genoese economic activity in the empire
necessarily relied on local middlemen having easy access to indigenous
producers, traders and carriers. In Constantinople local retailers
contributed their share to the supply of goods and services to the
respective local communities, travelling merchants, and passing ships of
the two maritime powers. The naturalization of these Byzantine subjects
integrated them more firmly within the respective trade networks of
n Cessi, Deliberazioni, II, 148, §27; illustration of the link between residence and
citizenship in Venice: ibid., II, 145, §16.
'a See Jacoby, 'Venitiens naturalises', 221-224; also Makris, 'Gasmulen', 70-71, on the
descendants.
See below, note 81.
tl0 See D. Jacoby, 'Les Genois dans 1'Empire byzantin: citoyens, sujets et proteges
(1261-1453)', La Storia dei Genovesi 9 (1989), 245-264, reprinted in Jacoby, Trade, no. III.
Michael VIII ordered Greeks to leave the territory he had granted to Genoa, apparently in
order to prevent them from becoming Genoese subjects, yet many stayed.
146 DAVID JACOBY
these powers. The latter also benefited from the increase in the number of
their nationals, which enhanced their fiscal revenues in the empire.
The repeated Byzantine assaults on the status of the so-called 'white
Venetians' and 'white Genoese' were clearly attempts to reassert imperial
rights upon former subjects and increase state revenues. Yet they also
carried with them a reaction, fuelled by popular resentment, to the
privileged status of these new insiders in trade. Thus, frustration must
have grown considerably among Byzantine tavern keepers when 'white
Venetians' established their own taverns outside Venice's quarter, the
operation of which the imperial authorities sought to prevent.81
Economic co-operation between Byzantine outsiders and Italian
insiders in trade generated varying degrees of social contact, which in the
case of intermarriage could result in the assimilation of the latter to the
Greek milieu. Naturalization did not produce any similar integration. It
promoted a social rapprochement between old and new members of the
national communities which, however, was limited by three factors. First,
differences in religious affiliation, language and culture were not
obliterated; secondly, until the mid-fourteenth century the traders who
obtained naturalization belonged mostly to the middling and lower strata
of Byzantine society; and, finally, Venetian and Genoese citizens were
intent on preserving their social supremacy within their respective
communities. They were assisted in this respect by their own
governments, which maintained a strict legal distinction between citizens
and other nationals.82 On the social level, then, the naturalized Byzantine
trader remained an outsider.
The second half of the fourteenth century witnessed a broader
participation of members of the Byzantine elite in trade. The latter's
stronger co-operation with Venice's and Genoa's traders enabled some of
them to obtain naturalization from either of these powers.83 Byzantine
traders gradually absorbed the more sophisticated commercial practices
common among their Italian counterparts.84 Although this process had a
practical purpose, it may also be considered a way of narrowing
somewhat the gap between outsiders and insiders in Byzantine trade. The
81 See Jacoby, 'Venitiens naturalises', 223, n. 56, 224-235; Jacoby, 'Genois', 254-260.
See Jacoby, 'Venitiens naturalises', 219; Jacoby, 'Genois', 266-270.
See Jacoby, 'Genois', 264-266, 269.
'4 See Oikonomides, Hommes d'affaires, 53-83; K1: P. Matschke, 'Geldgeschafte, Handel
and Gewerbe in spatbyzantinischen Rechenbiichem and in der spatbyzantinischen
Wirklichkeit. Ein Beitrag zu den Produktions- and Austauschverhaltnissen im
byzantinischen Feudalismus', Jahrbuch f it Geschichte des Feudalisinus 3 (1979), 181-204.
impact of these developments on the relations between the two groups

requires another study.
11. Constantinople and the Outside World
Paul Magdalino
In a couple of rare autobiographical asides, the twelfth-century chronicler

John Zonaras complains that he is having to write his history of the world
'in this place at the back of beyond' (iapa tilj eaxatu tiavtill), where he
suffers from an acute shortage of books.' According to the title of the
work in some manuscripts, the author was a monk of Hagia Glykeria.
The straightforward reading of this information has met with some
incredulity because it means that the back of beyond was a small island,
one of the Princes' Islands, in the Sea of Marmara, a short sea journey
from Constantinople. Today the island is the well-appointed summer
retreat of a wealthy Turkish industrialist, and in Byzantine times it was
the site of a 'posh monastery', re-founded about 1100 by a high-ranking
aristocrat, and served by an hegoutnenos, Joseph, who went on to become
abbot of the Pantokrator monastery.2 Hagia Glykeria had also received a
substantial endowment from one Naukratios Zonaras, possibly the father
of John the chronicler; in any event, the latter was working in a suburban
monastery with family connections. It was hardly the 'back of beyond'.
We can explain his words as the rhetoric of exile; we can also point to the
reality of exile suffered by many Byzantines who were banished to the
Princes' Islands in political disgrace; and we can point to modem
examples of islands near big cities which are places for the isolation of
undesirables. But when we have done everything to get Zonaras's notion
of the 'back of beyond' in proportion, it is hard to avoid the conclusion
that it is what it appears to be: a reflection of the Byzantine equivalent of
' John Zonaras, Epitomae historiartnn, M. Pinder and Th. Biittner-Wobst, eds, 3 vols
(Bonn, 1841-184,1897), I, 3-4;1I, 297-298.
2
C. Mango, 'Twelfth-Century Notices from Cod.Christ Church Gr. 53', JOB, 42
(1992), 221-228; C. Mango, 'Introduction' in C. Mango and G. Dagron, eds, Constantinople
and its Hinterland (Aldershot, 1995), 2.
' Cf. M.E. Mullett, 'Originality in the Byzantine Letter: The Case of Exile', in A.R.
Littlewood, ed., Originality in Byzantine Literature Art and Music (Oxford, 1995), 39-58.
149
150 PAUL MAGDALINO
the attitude caricatured in the cartoon of the New Yorker's view of the
world, where New Jersey gives way to the Mid West beyond a Hudson
River that is definitely on the edge of civilization. Other writers of the
period contain little that qualifies, and much that confirms, this literal
reading. John Tzetzes lumps ethnic foreigners together with Greeks from
the Aegean islands as undesirable aliens.' Bishops and government
officials always want to be back in Constantinople and not where they
happen to be posted. It is bad for a monastery to be rich in Thessalonike,
Archbishop Eustathios tells the people of that city, but good in
Constantinople, because they do things properly there.' Theodore
Balsamon, the canonist, agrees, being, in his own words, 'a
Constantinopolitan through and through' (Kcov(ytiavtitvoDEoXitirls
6xpaupvE6tiatios).6 In his canon law commentaries, he repeatedly
distinguishes between Constantinople, where people know and keep the
rules, and the 'outer territories' (E4w xc'opat), where anything goes,
including heresy.' Three writers of the generation of 1204 - Michael
Choniates, Niketas Choniates, and the patriarch Germanos II - have left
an unforgettable picture of smug Constantinopolitans assuming that the
world owes them a superior living just because Constantinople is the
place to be, and to be born.8
Altogether, there is a fairly impressive body of twelfth-century
evidence that for a powerful consensus of opinion, the Byzantine outsider
was someone who did not belong in Constantinople, for whatever
reasons people who did belong in Constantinople chose to name. The
statements of Constantinopolitan exclusiveness are supported by the
further consideration that the constitutional and ideological role of
Constantinople within Byzantium far exceeded that of any capital city or
'P.A.M. Leone, ed., Ioannis Tzetzae historiae (Naples, 1968), Chiliad XIII, 359ff.
5T.L.F. Tafel, ed., Eustathii metropolitae Thessalonicensis opuscula (Frankfurt am Main,
1832), 230-231, 237, 262.
6
G.A. Rallis and A. Potlis, eds, Evvraypa r&v Beiwv xai iep&v xavdvwv, 6 vols
(Athens, 1852-1859), II, 285-286. Hereafter, Rallis-Potlis.
' Rallis-Potlis, I, 246; II, 404, 450, 620, 627. On this and the sources cited in the
following notes, see P. Magdalino, 'Constantinople and the El;w gwpat in the time of
Balsamon', in N. Oikonomides, ed., Byzantium in the 12th Century: Canon Lazv, State and
Society (Athens, 1991), 179-197; P. Magdalino, Tradition and Transformation in Medieval
Byzantium (Aldershot, 1991), nos I and VII.
8 Michael Choniates, Mtxar)2 Axopcvazov rov Xwvidrov ra Sp. Lampros,
ed., 2 vols (Athens, 1879-1880), I, 82-84; Niketas Choniates, Nicetae Choniatae historia, J. van
Dieten, ed., 2 vols (Berlin and New York, 1975), I, 593; S. Lagopatis, ed., TeppavdS d B'
narpcapxr/s (Tripolis, 1913), 282-283.
CONSTANTINOPLE AND THE OUTSIDE WORLD 151
metropolis in almost any other territorial state. It was the status of

Constantinople as the New Rome which made it legitimate for Byzantines
to call themselves Romaioi and their state Romania. For both these
identities, Constantinople was the fixed point on the map, more fixed
than any frontier, the peg from which all definitions hung9 - at least until
1204, when Constantinople under Latin occupation became the outsider
to Rornaioi associated with the Byzantine governments in exile. The
equivalence of the city with the state was further reinforced by the legal
definition, transferred to Constantinople from Rome, of the capital as the
'common homeland' (icotvij itatipiq) of all imperial subjects," and by the
designation of 'reigning city' (PautXcvooca n6Xi.S/urbs regia), or 'queen
of cities' (PwnXts tiwv it6Xewv), which was commonly applied to it." This
expression implied not only that Constantinople was the greatest city in
the world, but also that it was sovereign by virtue of its role in validating
imperial power. An emperor was not emperor until he had been
acclaimed in Constantinople. An eleventh-century author famously .
declared, 'The emperor in Constantinople always wins', 12 and twelfth-

century panegyrics represent the emperor winning victories on behalf of
the City, his mother, and subjecting reconquered towns in Asia Minor to
her yoke.13
All Byzantines were Romaioi, but Constantinopolitans were more
Byzantine than the rest. But who truly belonged inside Constantinople?
Who or what was typically, quintessentially and unambiguously
Constantinopolitan? For Tzetzes, it was not the fashionable holy men
about town - they were all foreigners and provincials." For Alexios I
Komnenos, as represented by Niketas Choniates, it was not his noble,
learned son-in-law, the Caesar Nikephoros Bryennios, because this fellow
was a Macedonian - that is, his family were from Adrianople.15 For the
' See D. Olster, 'From Periphery to Center: The Transformation of Late Roman Self-
Definition in the Seventh Century', in R.W. Mathisen and H.S. Sivan, eds, Shifting Frontiers
in Late Antiquity (Aldershot, 1996), 93-101.
'° Digest 48.22.18, 27.1.6; Heraclius, Novel 2, J. Konidaris, ed., 'Die Novellen des
Kaisers Herakleios', Fontes Minores 5 (1982), 74.
" Cf. G. Dagron, Naissance dame capitale. Constantinople et ses institutions de 330 a 451
(Paris, 1974), 53.
12 Kekaumenos, Strategikon, B. Wassiliewsky and V. Jernstedt, eds (St Petersburg, 1896;
repr. Amsterdam, 1965), 74.
" Theodoros Prodromos, Historische Gedichte, W. Horandner, ed. (Vienna, 1974), nos
111.157-158, V.1-10, VE I.145-172, Xb.5, XIX.196-197.
" See above, note 3.
15 van Dieten, ed., I, 6.
152 PAUL MAGDALINO
detractors of the patriarch Germanos II, he was of lowly birth because he

had not been born in Constantinople. Yet, as the patriarch pointed out,
the natives of Constantinople included many illegitimate half-breeds,
spawned by adulterous liaisons with Russian and Turkish slave girls.
'Are these persons, who resemble mules in their racial mixture, well born
and respectable, and will the soil of Constantinople ennoble them?"6
All the people labelled as outsiders in the above remarks clearly
regarded themselves, and were accepted by their friends, as insiders.
Constantinople was the place to be because it was the place where
outsiders became insiders. This is exactly how the author of the Vita
Basilii describes the career debut of the young Basil the Macedonian, the
country boy from Adrianople who went on to found a successful imperial
dynasty:
Since a living from agriculture seemed petty and mundane to him,

he decided to go to the reigning city and display his virtue, and
thus to procure the necessities of life for himself and his family,
and provide patronage for their great benefit. For he knew that in
big cities, and especially royal capitals, talents flourish and men
who stand out in any way receive recognition and advancement,
whereas in undistinguished, obscure towns, as in village society,
virtues fade and waste away, and, consumed by lack of
opportunity for display or admiration, wither away to extinction."
Michael Attaleiates explicitly presents his life as a conversion from

outsider to insider status through immigration to Constantinople. He had
given up his inheritance in his home town (no doubt Attaleia) in order to
acquire an education 'in the metropolis of learning and queen of cities'.
With learning he had acquired prosperity, in spite of everything that
counted against him, 'especially the fact of being of alien race' (ij tiov
y£vovs ainaflotipicoatg). He thanked God that he had risen 'from foreign
and humble condition' (ano' 4Evric icat tia7EEtvf g 'cuxric) to become one of
the senatorial aristocracy, a senior judge loaded with public honours. This
was due to his studies in grammar, rhetoric and philosophy, and his
initiation into the 'sacred mystery of the law'.18
Only a detailed and exhaustive series of case studies will allow us to
create a profile of the typical Constantinopolitan insider, if there was such
16
Lagopatis, ed. (see above, note 8).
17
Theophanes Continuatus, I. Bekker, ed., CSHB (Bonn, 1838), 221.
16
P. Gautier, ed. and tr., 'La Diataxis de Michel Attaliate', REB 39 (1981),18-21, 28-31.
a thing. For this, we shall have to await the completion of the

Prosopography of the Byzantine Empire. In the meantime, there are three
preliminary questions which it is useful and reasonable to consider in the
present context. Firstly, what distinguished those visitors to
Constantinople who remained outsiders from those who became insiders,
at least to their own satisfaction? What were the frontiers which some
outsiders managed to cross while others did not? Secondly, was the
status of insider to the city merely the construction of naturalized
provincials, or did it correspond to the reality of a hard core of
indigenous Constantinopolitans? What did it mean to be
'Constantinopolitan through and through', as Balsamon claimed to be?
Thirdly, it is important to consider the diachronic dimension of these
issues. Is it significant that so much evidence comes from the twelfth
century, and that the most extreme statements of exclusiveness date from
the years immediately before and after 1204? Was the role of
Constantinople as the ultimate in-place a cumulative one which peaked at
the moment when its raison d'etre was temporarily destroyed and forever
damaged?
The sources allow us to identify four clear categories of visitors who
tended to remain outsiders to the city because of the nature of their
business there: litigants and petitioners, pilgrims, diplomats, and the
majority of merchants, although there were always merchants who
stayed on, particularly with the growth of the Italian trading concessions
in the twelfth century and the formation of a class of foreign residents,
the bourgesioi or burgenses.19 The last three categories are often noticed
because of their interest for the study of urban topography, foreign
relations and economic life. The litigants and petitioners receive less
attention, although they are frequently mentioned, and they are worth
considering here, because they, perhaps more than any others, knew
what it was like to be in Constantinople but not to belong there. Lawsuits
and petitions were notoriously slow to process, and put provincials and
foreigners at a severe disadvantage against residents. Twelfth-century
commentators on the Rhetorica of Aristotle noted that foreigners, 'for
example Egyptians or Corinthians', were regularly cheated, because the
perpetrators knew that the victims would not take them to court, 'for a
" See most recently A.E. Laiou, 'Institutional Mechanisms of Integration', in H.

Ahrweiler and A.E. Laiou, eds, Studies on the Internal Diaspora of the Byzantine Empire
(Washington, DC, 1998),171ff.
154 PAUL MAGDALINO
lawsuit will often not be finished in two years'.20 Like prostitutes,

provincial plaintiffs in this plight were repeatedly targeted by
philanthropic emperors: Justinian I, Basil I and Romanos I are all said to
have made provision for them to be able to stay in Constantinople for the
duration of their cases.21 In the Life of Andrew the Fool, the devil on one
occasion assumes the guise of an old woman dossing down in the
Hippodrome while her case is being heard.22 Nicholas Mesarites, in his
account of the revolt of John Komnenos the Fat in 1200, describes another
such unfortunate who joined the insurgents: a monk from the East, who
had come to the city and spent a long time there on some necessary
business of his monastery. Being of a simple nature, and having used up
all the funds he had brought with him, he was wandering the streets with
a pouch, begging for his daily sustenance. Lacking accommodation and
money, he slept out in the churches, wrapped in a decaying cloak and a
habit in complete tatters.23
Speeding up court cases involving provincials was one of the duties of
the quaesitor, the magistrate appointed by Justinian in 539 to investigate
and repatriate people who had no business in the city.29 The terms of the
appointment, as set out in Novel 80, show a concern to halt the drift of
immigrants from the provinces, especially from the countryside. A
similar concern is evident in Heraclius's novels regulating clerical
appointments in the capital; Novel 2, of 617, deplores the fact the
numerous churches and other pious foundations of the city are attracting
many unknown men from various provinces, villages and trading
centres, who had either never received holy orders or had been
suspended.25 Yet both these Novels are 'one-off' pieces of legislation,
which hardly constitute evidence for a consistent policy of immigration
control.26 Does this mean there was no formal barrier to prevent outsiders
2°
H. Rabe, ed., CAG XXI, 2 (Berlin, 1896), 285; for corrective legislation issued by
Manuel I in 1166, see R.J. Macrides, 'Justice under Manuel I Komnenos: Four Novels on
Court Business and Murder', Fontes Minores 6 (1985), 122-139, 172-182.
Procopius, De aedificiis, I, 11.23-27; Theoph.Cont., 260, 430.
L. Ryden, ed. and tr., The Life of St Andrew the Fool, 2 vols (Uppsala,1995),11,64-65.
A. Heisenberg, ed., Die Palastrevolution des Johannes Koinnenos [Programm des
Koniglichen alten Gymnasiums zu Wiirzburg fur das Studienjahr 1906/1907] (Wiirzburg, 1907),
22.
24
Cf. John Lydus, De Magistratibus, 111.70.
25 Konidaris, ed., 74.
26
The repetition of the legislation on the quaesitor in the ninth-century Eisagoge
(Epanagoge), 5 (where he is confused with the quaestor) is not, in my opinion, a reliable
indicator.
from becoming insiders? Several texts represent their protagonists as

simply moving to Constantinople without introduction or invitation. Basil
I is again the most famous case in point; one might also mention Leontios
of Jerusalem, who wandered to Constantinople from the Strymon valley,
took the tonsure in a suburban monastery, then entered the city as 'a
stranger among strangers and a foreigner to the city, a foreigner to the
citizens and ignorant of urban ways'.27 Yet both Basil and Leontios went
on to make their way by finding patrons. In other words, the key to
integration was prostasia, and other sources suggest that the usual access
route for an ambitious young provincial was by way of a household, an
oikos, to which he had an introduction. St Evaristos; St Athanasios the
9
Athonite,29 and St Symeon the New Theologian30 all followed this route. St
Nikephoros of Miletos was sent, as a eunuch, by his parents from the
Boukellarion theme to Constantinople, where he was taken in by the
patrikios Moseles, to receive an education and to serve in the household 31
This was how it worked towards the top of the social scale. We can only
speculate as to how it worked lower down - how the workers and
artisans of Constantinople got there if they were not born there. It was
presumably possible for outsiders to turn up and find work. But I would
suggest that the aristocratic oikos, again, was the medium by which
outsiders became insiders: that a large proportion of the common people
originated with household slaves. Not only did slave girls have a habit of
getting pregnant, but masters commonly freed their slaves in their wills
and granted them small legacies. The case of the widow Zoe Pakouriane,
whose will of 1098 is preserved in the archives of Iviron, is probably not
untypical. She left legacies of money, clothes and animals to nineteen
freed slaves 32 It is not clear where they lived, but the mentions of
livestock do not preclude an urban location, since we know that farm
animals and beasts of burden were kept inside the city33
2' The Life of Leotttios Patriarch of Jerusalem, D. Tsougarakis, ed. and tr. (Leiden, 1993),
40-41.
2° Ch. van der Vorst, ed., AB 41 (1923), 300.
29
J. Noret, ed., Vitae duae antiquae Sattcti Athanasii Athonitae (Turnhout, 1982), 5, 7-8.
'° Niketas Stethatos, Vie de Symeon le Nouveau Theologies, I. Hausherr, ed. and tr.
(Rome, 1928), 2-4.
" H. Delehaye, ed., AB 14 (1895),136-137.
32 Actes d'Iviron, J. Lefort, N. Oikonomides, D. Papachryssanthou, eds, II (Paris, 1990),
no. 47.
" E.g. Attaleiates, Gautier, ed. and tr., 'Diataxis', 28-29; John Tzetzes, P.A.M. Leone,
ed., loannis Tzetzae epistulae (Leipzig, 1972), 31-34.
156 PAUL MAGDALINO
It is clear that for most of the people mentioned so far, a

Constantinopolitan social identity was the construction of a deliberate
choice on the part of upwardly and inwardly mobile outsiders for whom
destinations counted more than origins. Their attitude was expressed by
Stephen, a twelfth-century commentator on the Rhetorica of Aristotle,
when he defined natives as 'those who are not migrants or colonists from
another land, or those who, if they come from another land, have lived in
this land long enough to be old-timers and in this respect close to the
natives, like those [who are] close to the natives of Constantinople' 34 As a
teacher of rhetoric in Constantinople, the author knew whereof he spoke,
especially if he is to be identified with Stephen Skylitzes35 The Skylitzes
family were an integral part of the capital's intellectual and bureaucratic
elite, but they may have come from western Asia NliLtor.36 They
represented the convergence and fusion of metropolitan and provincial
which was typical of Constantinopolitan society. Like all urban
populations, that of Constantinople had to replenish itself by immigration
- perhaps more than most, since it contained large numbers of monks and
eunuchs - but it never consisted entirely of immigrants. Even in 713, at
the height of the 'Dark Age' crisis, when senatorial and curial elites were
in full decline and an aristocracy of service in the ascendant, the emperor
Philippikos Bardanes held a lunch party 'with citizens of ancient lineage'
(µctia X07 itiwv &pxatoycvthv) 37 Several family names associated with the
civil bureaucracy and the clergy of the Great Church in the eleventh and
twelfth centuries are to be found in Constantinople two or three centuries
earlier. Of course, recurrence of names does not necessarily mean
continuity of lineage. But I think it is telling that in the mid-tenth century
a Zonaras served on the staff of the Prefect of Constantinople,38 and two
centuries later three Zonarades held high judicial posts.39 It is also surely
more than coincidence that the surname Xylinites recurs in 1056 with the
same first name, Niketas, with which it is linked at its first occurrence in
" CAG XXI, 2, 270.

35
W. Wanda-Conus, 'A propos des scolies de Stephanos a la Rhetorique d'Aristote,
l'auteur, l'oeuvre, le milieu', Actes du XIV' Congres international des Etudes byzantines, III
(Bucharest, 1976), 599-606.
" Cf. J. Thum, Ioannis Scylitzae Synopsis historiaruin , CFHB 5 (Berlin and New York,
1973), vii.
" Theophanes, Chronographia, C. de Boor, ed. (Hildesheirn and New York, 1980),383.
3e Theoph. Cont., 442.
39
Mango, 'Twelfth-century Notices'; 226-227; P. Magdalino, 'The not-so-secret
functions of the mystikos', REB 42 (1984); reprinted in Magdalino, Tradition and
Transformation, no. XI.
719.4° The prosopography will allow us to correlate patterns of naming

and titulature and give us some idea of numbers. Hear it will never tell
us what we would most like to know: how lineages kept going over the
long term - their marriage and inheritance strategies, their association
with monasteries, their houses and neighbourhoods, their sources of
income, their ability to survive political disgrace and loss of office.91 Yet
this information is vital to understanding what held Constantinople
together as a community of insiders, the social realities that underlay the
rhetoric and the rituals of civic identity. In short, what did
Constantinopolitans have in common apart from their access to the
imperial court and its satellites? Was there more to the city than the
infrastructure of the Palace?
The most we can do at this stage is to identify the factors that made for
an accumulation of shared experience and common, exclusive identity.
The structural features which made Constantinople the place to be were
in place very early, and can be clearly discerned at the city's first peak of
prosperity in the reign of Justinian. The best known figures in Justinian's
entourage, and the authors of the main sources for his reign, were all
from the provinces, predominantly from Asia Minor. The influx of
petitioners, litigants and would-be immigrants was probably most
intense in the years before the plague of 542. The image of Constantinople
as the still centre of the turning world, as a heaven on earth against which
barbarism would not prevail, was already a major tool of Byzantine
diplomacy. Jordanes records the reaction of Athanaric the Goth as
follows:
to, now I see what I have often heard of with unbelieving ears',
meaning the great and famous city. Turning his eyes hither and
thither, he marvelled as he beheld the situation of the city, the
coming and going of the ships, the splendid walls, and the people
of divers nations gathered like a flood of waters streaming from
different regions into one basin. So too, when he saw the army in
array, he said, 'Truly the emperor is God on earth, and whoso
raises a hand against him is guilty of his own blood':
Theoph., 400; Skylitzes, Thurn, ed., 478, 490.

Some of these questions are discussed by the contributors to J. Beaucamp and G.
Dagron, eds, La transmission du patrinzoine: Byzance et 1'aire mediterraneenne (Paris, 1998).
41
Jordanes, Getica, XXVIII: MGH Auct.Ant. III, 1, 95; C.C. Mierow, tr., The Gothic
History of Jordanes (Princeton, 1915), 91.
158 PAUL MAGDALINO
Jordanes, like Justinian, refers to Constantinople as the 'reigning city','

and Justinian's legislation is almost certainly the source for Balsamon's
distinction between Constantinople and the 'outer territories'.` Yet in
Justinian's Novels, the expressions E4co ti6not and E co E67,,sns merely make
a geographical distinction; they do not imply a contrast, and do not carry
the weight of association with inferiority and non-conformity which
Balsamon attaches to the expression EEcp xwpaa. Behind his usage lay
centuries of investment in Constantinople at the expense of the urban life
of the rest of the empire. The material investment fluctuated; it began to
fall off after the plague of 542, and declined in a big way after the loss of
Egypt and Syria. Yet the spiritual and moral investment only increased as
Constantinople stood almost alone as the city which had not been sacked
or conquered by invading barbarians. A series of events in the seventh
and eighth centuries enhanced the role of Constantinople as the God-
guarded city which would endure until the end of time. There was the
failure of Heraclius to relocate to Carthage (619), and the murder of
Constans II (668) who had set up his headquarters in Sicily - though not
before stripping Rome of its bronze statues for shipping to
Constantinople.45 There were the failure of the Avar siege of 626 and the
failures of the Ummayad caliphs to, blockade the city in 674-678 and in
717-718. These failures helped to ensure that Byzantium did not go the
way of other early medieval states with their movable capitals and
itinerant courts. Crucial in this respect was the decision of Constantine V
to repopulate the city after the devastating plague of 747, and, in 766, to
rebuild the sections of the aqueduct which the Avars had destroyed one
hundred and forty years earlier. The new settlers were transplanted from
Greece and the islands, the construction teams were brought in from all
over the provinces, and the food supply of the repopulated city was
ensured by fiscal measures which bore heavily on the peasantry.46 This
was a major investment for a ruralized, militarized state whose economic
and demographic strength so clearly lay in its provinces. If we follow the
chronology of Theophanes, Constantine V waited nine years before
repopulating Constantinople after the plague, nine years in which the
Const. Deo auctore,10.

E.g. Nov. 14, 1; 80, 9
The shipment was subsequently captured by the Arabs and taken to Alexandria:
Paul the Deacon, Historia Longobardoruin, V. 11-13: G. Waitz, ed., MGH SS (Hanover, 1878),
190-192.
96 Theoph., 429, 440; Nikephoros, Patriarch of Constantinople, Short History, C. Mango
ed. and It. (Washington, DC, 1990),140-141,160-161.
empire had managed to live without an oversize capital city. I have

suggested elsewhere that his motive was primarily ideological - to prove
himself worthy of his baptismal name, and of the epithet New
Constantine with which he was acclaimed by the iconoclast council of
754, the year before his repopulation of the city."
The refoundation of Constantinople by Constantine V began a period
of demographic recovery and building activity which continued until
1204. The pull of the capital was perhaps more intense than ever now that
the competition had been all but eliminated; the sack of Thessalonike in
904 was a major blow to the only serious competitor. The fact that
Constantinople remained inviolate contributed to its allure in more than
one way: it validated and demonstrated the mystical identity between the
city and its supernatural patron, the Virgin Mother of God; and it meant
that the city continued, on balance, to accumulate more and more of the
treasures for which it was famous. A series of medieval emperors - Basil
I, Leo VI, Romanos I, Constantine VII, Nikephoros II, John I, Manuel I,
Isaac II - added to the store of holy relics and other trophies. Although
much of the gold and silver which came into the city went out again in
the form of salaries, subsidies, tributes and diplomatic gifts, much
remained in the form of gifts to churches which could not, in principle, be
touched. Emperors who did touch them in moments of emergency made
themselves very unpopular. Visitors were told that a third or more of the
world's wealth was contained in the city.48 This sounds like an urban
myth, but it made sense of what the visitors saw, and it expressed a
version of the truth contained in Michael Choniates's complaint that
Constantinople took all the good things of this world and gave nothing in
return."
The whole development of the Byzantine state from 755 increased the
importance of Constantinople, in both relative and absolute terms. This
was as true of the territorial contraction of the late eleventh century as it
had been of the territorial expansion of the previous two hundred years.
The Turkish conquest of Asia Minor obliged provincial elites to move to
the Balkans. Not all settled in Constantinople - the Manasses family, for
9'
P. Magdalino, 'The Distance of the Past in Early Medieval Byzantium (VII-X
Centuries)', Ideologie e pratiche del reitupiego nell'alto medioevo. Settirane di studio del Centro
Italiano di studi sull'Alto Medioevo 46 (1999), 115-146, at 138-145.
°B See K.N. Ciggaar, 'Une description de Constantinople dans le Tarragonensis 55', REB
53 (1995), 119; Robert of Clari, La Conquete de Constantinople, P. Lauer, ed. (Paris, 1924), §81,
80-81.
49
See above, note 8.
160 PAUL MAGDALINO
instance, were moved by Romanos IV from Adramyttion to Peristasis on

the Gallipoli peninsula.50 But the senior eastern clergy, including the
patriarch of Antioch, were established in Constantinople, and on the
whole the relocated Eastern aristocracy were far more court and
Constantinople based than they had been in their native habitat. Of the
families which made up the top drawer of the aristocracy under the
Komnenoi, only those from Adrianople and Trebizond clearly maintained
their provincial roots. In other words, the loss of central and eastern
Anatolia enabled the Komnenoi to bring the centralization of the Roman
Empire to its logical conclusion. At no previous time in the empire's
history had its ruling class and the ownership of its resources been so
disproportionately concentrated in the capital. The political ideology of
eleventh- and twelfth-century Byzantium has been aptly described in
terms of 'patriotisme grec et orthodoxe et polarisation constantino-
politaine'. There was both greater emphasis on eugeneia, and on
Constantinople as the source of it, as the only place where the yF'VOs
`Pwµaiwv, with the purple-born imperial children at its core, was truly at
homes'
So it is not accidental that the sounds of Constantinopolitan snobbery
and insularity reach a crescendo around 1204, nor is it coincidence that in
this year Constantinople finally lost the inviolability which had made it
the exclusive place to be. Heard in the context of the Fourth Crusade, the
voices of Balsamon, Eustathios, the Choniates brothers and the patriarch
Germanos are telling us that Constantinople fell because it had excluded
the outside world, because it had alienated all its potential sources of
deliverance. Heard in the context of the sequel, they are also telling us
something else: the detachment worked both ways, and made the
provinces capable of standing by themselves, as the territorial bases of
imperial governments in exile, two at the extremities and one near the
heart of the Byzantine world. The success of these successor states lay in
their ability to graft refugee elements from Constantinople on to the
structures of provincial society. The most successful of the three, Nicaea,
was the one which made the least effort to recreate Constantinople in
exile; as is well known, its troubles began almost as soon as it recovered
Constantinople from the Latins.
so
See C.M. Mazzucchi, 'Longino in Giovanni di Sicilia, con un inedito di storia,
epigrafia e toponomastica di Cosma Manasse dal Cod. Laurenziano LVII 5', Aevuni 64
(1990),193-194.
51 H. Ahrweiler, L'ideologie politique de 1'empire byzantin (Paris, 1975), 67; Magdalino,
Tradition and Transformatimi, nos I and XIV.
The provincial successor states flourished because local resources

were invested locally during the period of exile. Yet they also
undoubtedly owed something to the pre-existing vitality of provincial
society. The empire of Nicaea reaped the benefits of the work of
repopulation that the Komnenoi, especially John and Manuel, had carried
out in western Asia Minor. Alexander Kazhdan pointed out that by the
end of the twelfth century, Constantinople no longer held a monopoly in
the production of manufactured goods,52 and David Jacoby has
developed this thesis in his study of the silk industry in Greece 53 Twelfth-
century writers show occasional flashes of pride in their local patrides, as
when the Choniates brothers write of Chonai, Euthymios Tornikes of
Thebes, and John Apokaukos of Naupaktos 54
Thus the evidence for Constantinopolitan exclusivism must be heard
against a backgound of ambivalent provincial attitudes towards the
metropolis, in which traditional reverence was mixed with resentment at
the status of this city which literally did not produce the goods. The
chorus of twelfth-century voices heralds the reversal of roles in 1204,
which would make Constantinople the great outsider and turn Queen
City into Strumpet City. The image is suggested by Niketas Choniates,
who uses it to denounce the frequent changes in imperial power before
1204, though he does not apply it directly to Constantinople55 Yet like the
concept of Queen City, it had a long history. John Mauropous had used it
in 1061, in a way which suggests that it was part of the standard
repertoire of churchmen preaching repentance in moments of adversity.56
It naturally entered into thinking about the Apocalypse; ever since the fall
of Old Rome, Constantinople had been a prime candidate for the role of
Babylon the Great 57
52 A.P. Kazhdan and A. Wharton Epstein, Change in Byzantine Culture in the Eleventh
and Twelfth Centuries (Berkeley and Los Angeles, 1985), 39ff.
53 D. Jacoby, 'Silk in Western Byzantium before the Fourth Crusade', BZ 84-85 (1991-
1992), 452-500 (reprinted with additions in D. Jacoby, Trade, Commodities and Shipping in the
Medieval Mediterranean (Aldershot, 1997), no.Vl).
' See Magdalino, Tradition and Transformation, no. XWV, 8,15.
55
van Dieten, ed., 498-499. In his lament on the capture of the City (576ff.) Choniates
develops the image of a wronged but virtuous woman.
56 P. de Lagarde, ed., lohannis Euchaitorum metropolitae quae in Vat. Gr. 676 supersunt
(Gottingen,1882; repr. Amsterdam, 1979), 169.
57 Andreas of Caesarea, J. Schmid, ed., Studien zur Geschichte des griechischen
Apokalypse-Textes, I (Munich, 1955), 201-202; Life of Andrew the Fool, Rydzn, ed. and tr., I,
278-279 and n. 79; cf. G. Podskalsky, Byzantinische Reichseschatologie (Munich, 1972), 86-90.
162 PAUL MAGDALINO
I began this paper by alluding to the caricature of the New Yorker's

view of the world. I shall conclude by pointing out that Constantinople
was the equivalent, in modem terms, of New York and Washington
combined, and that both those cities are deeply abhorrent to the moral
majority of the United States. Let me close with the following question:
who is the real insider - is it the slick urban sophisticate, the politikos, as
Kekaumenos would have called him, or is it the country boy from the
Bible Belt and the E co xcopan, who comes to the big city, gets cheated by
the immigrant traders and laughed at by the chattering classes, and goes
away convinced of the moral superiority of small-town life?
12. Patron Imagery from the Fringes of the Empire.
Lyn Rodley
One of the most immediate and compelling sources of information for

both the appearance and the personal aspirations of individuals from the
Byzantine past comes from the representations of themselves with which
they embellished the works of art and architecture they commissioned.
Such images have a wide chronological range, appearing at least by the
sixth century and still evident well into post-Byzantine times, but most of
the examples we have are from the middle and late Byzantine periods
(particularly the eleventh to fourteenth centuries), reflecting the higher
survival rate of works of this period generally. They are most often found
in monumental art and illuminated manuscripts (probably because the
common feature of these otherwise dissimilar vehicles is that of available
space: an area of narthex or nave wall in the church, an extra page or two
in the manuscript).' I. shall be concerned here with the images in
monumental art, since the chief relevance of this topic in the context of
the 'Byzantine outsider' is that most of these are in churches of the
Byzantine provinces, rather than the metropolis; so it is on evidence from
the outside, rather than the core, that exploration of this particular aspect
of patronage depends. Further, the question of whether distance from the
` Patron images occasionally appear in other contexts: on crosses, reliquaries, icons or

their frames. See, generally, N. evi enko, 'Close Encounters: Contact between Holy Figures
and the Faithful as represented in Byzantine Works of Art' in A. Guillou and J. Durand,
eds, Byzance et les images (Paris, 1994), 257-285. For patron images in manuscript
illumination, see I. Spatharakis, The Portrait in Byzantine Illuminated Manuscripts (Leiden,
1976).
1
The imperial images in Hagia Sophia form the main body of evidence for
monumental patron imagery in Constantinople, and although certainly in the same stable,
these form a special category. For these images, see T. Whittemore, The Mosaics of Hagia
Sophia at Istanbul (Paris and Boston, 1933-1952); P.A. Underwood and E.J.W. Hawkins, 'The
Mosaics of Hagia Sophia at Istanbul. The Portrait of the Emperor Alexander', DOP 5 (1961),
189-215; N. Oikonomides, 'Leo VI and the Narthex Mosaic of Saint Sophia', DOP 30 (1976),
151-172.
163
164 LYN RODLEY
metropolis had any bearing upon such imagery deserves to be asked

(even though the answer is that it probably did not).
Patron images are often found in provincial 'pockets', such as in the
cave churches of Cappadocia,3 the small churches of central and northern
Greece4 (particularly in Kastoria) and in churches on Cyprus.' This
distribution of course reflects various circumstances which allowed the
structures containing the images to survive, rather than the original
distribution of patron images, but its widespread nature is relevant to
exercises of comparison, in the sense that images made in areas so distant
from one another are unlikely to have any direct connection (such as
travelling artists, or even travelling patrons). Recurrent features,
therefore, particularly when they appear over a long chronological
period, probably represent empire-wide tradition rather than regional
developments. Such comparison does, indeed, yield a common
iconographic vocabulary for patron images, the most easily identifiable
element of which is the figure of the patron, usually standing, holding a
model of the church in which the image is located; he/she presents this
model to a divine figure, usually Christ or the Virgin, sometimes a saint.'
Another basic type shows the patron without a church-model, simply
standing or kneeling in the presence of a divine figure, usually with
hands raised in a gesture of supplication. In most cases, with or without
church-model, the patrons are drawn to a smaller scale than the divine
figure. Although, as noted above, most surviving patron imagery is
middle late Byzantine, these iconographic types are of long pedigree and
can be found in examples going back to the early Byzantine period! The
3 In Yusuf Koc Kilise (Avcilar); Karabulut K., Chapels 5a, 10, 18, 21, 22, 23, 28, 29, 33
(Goreme); K. (Gill$ehir), Balkam Dere Chapel 3 (Ortahisar); Kirk Dam Alti K.
(Peristrema valley), Selime Kalesi (Selime); Ballik K., Belli K., Canavar K., Karaba§ K.
(Soganli valley); Ayvali K., Pigeon House Church ((;avufin). For illustrations, see G. de
Jerphanion, Les eglises rupestres de Cappadoce. Une nouvelle province de I'art byzantin (Paris,
1925-1934) and M. Restle, Byzantine Wall Painting in Asia Minor (Shannon, 1967).
' S. Kalopissi-Verti, Dedicatony Inscriptions and Donor Portraits in 13th-Century Churches
of Greece (Vienna, 1992).
5 S. Pelekanides and M. Chatzedakis, Kastoria (Athens, 1985).
6 A. and J.A. Stylianou, 'Donors and dedicatory inscriptions, Supplicants and
Supplications in the Painted Churches of Cyprus', JOB (1960), 97-128.
A parallel iconography appears in manuscript illumination, where the patron
presents a book: a famous example is found on f. 2v of the Bible of Leo the sakellarios (Vat.
Reg. Gr. 1): Spatharakis, Portrait, pl. 1.
6
For example, in San Vitale, Ravenna (548) Bishop Ecclesius presents a model of the
church to Christ: A. Paolucci, Ravenna (Florence, 1971), 42. Several patrons, in various
attitudes of supplication, were present in the sixth-century mosaic panels of the nave
PATRON IMAGERY FROM THE FRINGES OF THE EMPIRE 165
nature of patronage recorded by means of a donor image varies, and is

often something less than responsibility for the entire establishment.
Thus, in many instances more than one patron figure appears in a single
building, each in its own iconographical context: at Yusuf Koc Kilise in
Avcilar (Cappadocia), for example, three patrons are shown in separate
panels and probably represent three individuals who made contributions
to the church.9
My interest in this imagery began over twenty years ago with an
attempt to derive specific meanings for the various iconographical types
found in the patron images of Cappadocian cave churches - the precise
significance, for example, of a standing figure as opposed to a kneeling
one (each of the three figures in Yusuf Koc Kilise is represented in a
different attitude), or the relationship between the icongraphic type and
the wording of supplicatory inscriptions. I found then, and continue to
find, when widening the survey beyond Cappadocia, that the more
examples scrutinised, the less likely it seems that any general taxonomic
principles apply. It is not even possible to infer that a patron holding a
model of the church was responsible for building it, since there are
several instances in which an inscription clearly specifies that the model-
holder simply renovated or decorated the church. (The model, in fact,
designates the ktetor, who may be the initial founder of a church or
monastery, and therefore responsible for its fabric, but could equally well
be a re-founder, applying his resources to the patronage of an existing
establishment, often one in decline or disrepair.10) This conclusion is not,
however, a dead end: Stoppard's philosopher in Jumpers notes that all the
observable phenomena associated with a train leaving Paddington could
also be accounted for by Paddington leaving the train, and I find a similar
adjustment of viewpoint useful in this context. Byzantine patron imagery
certainly drew upon a standard iconographical vocabulary, but used it
very flexibly to produce various meanings, reflecting a wide range of
patron behaviour and, on occasion, the personality of individual patrons.
(Perhaps this is nowhere so evident as in the late twelfth-century
hermitage of St Neophytos at Paphos, Cyprus where, in addition to a
arcade in St Demetrios, Thessakonike: R.S. Cormack, 'The Mosaic Decoration of St

Demetrios, Thessaloniki', ABSA 64 (1969), 17-52.
9 L. Rodley, Cave Monasteries of Byzantine Cappadocia (Cambridge, 1986), 157; dating of
the church to the mid-eleventh century is based upon the style of its paintings.
10 Indeed, the phrase 'from the foundations' (ex i&v (i&8pcov), which is found in many
dedicatory inscriptions, may be included specifically to avoid ambiguity as to whether a
ktetor is a builder or renovator.
166 LYN RODLEY
conventional image of Neophytos kneeling before Christ, there is another,

unique one, showing Neophytos borne up to heaven by a pair of angels.")
A frequent elaboration of the basic vocabulary just noted shows the
patron as part of a family group, with spouse, and sometimes children,
and the circumstances of the commission are enlarged upon in
inscriptions, either alongside the images, or elsewhere (often in a 'lintel'
panel above the interior face of the main entrance), or both. This is the
formula used at St Demetrios, Dali (Cyprus) where such a lintel panel
states that the church was renovated and painted at the expense of
Michael, son of Katzouroubes, and his wife and children in 1317. Michael
offers a model of the church to Christ (a half figure in the top right-hand
corner of the field) and his wife stands behind him (fig. 1); one inscription
in the field names the pair and mentions their children (not depicted) and
another, bottom right, makes a plea that Michael should be relieved of his
heartburn.12 It is usually the case that the man of the family is clearly the
chief patron in groups like this, but there are exceptions, as in Kirk Dam
Alti Kilise, Belisirma (Cappadocia) where figures of Basil and Tamar
flank St George, but it is Tamar who holds the church model (fig. 2), and
an inscription on the nave ceiling attributes to her also the donation of a
vineyard.13 The date of this church is given by the first inscription, which
says that the work was done in the time of the Seljuk sultan Masut and
the Byzantine emperor Andronikos, placing it somewhere between 1283
and 1295 (and also reflecting the political circumstances of late thirteenth-
century Anatolia)."
Sometimes, however, more complex arrangements of family
patronage are represented. At the cave church of Karaba Kilise in
Cappadocia, the lintel inscription says that the church was redecorated by
Michael Skepides, protospatharios, Ekaterine the nun and Nyphon the
monk, in 1060/61.15 Each of these three is depicted in the church, and
there are several more images of persons not named in the lintel
inscription (fig. 3). Michael Skepides (a) in secular dress, is on the west
face of an arch in the south wall (probably originally a niche, with a
" C. Mango and E.J.W. Hawkins, 'The Hermitage of St Neophytos and its Wall
Paintings', DOP 20 (1966), 119-206, figs 66, 93, pl. facing page 166.
12
A. and J.A. Stylianou, The Painted Churches of Cyprus (London, 1985),425-426.
N. Thierry, Nouvelles eglises rupestres de Cappadoce. Region du Hasan Dagi (Paris,
1963), 201-213, pl. 94.
" S. Vryonis, 'Another Note on the Inscription of the Church of St George of
Beliserama', Byzantine 9 (1977), 11-22.
15 Rodley, Cave Monasteries, 196-202.
divine figure in the main field, to whom Michael gestures); Ekaterine (b),
dressed as a nun, is on the west face of a niche in the north wall, with a
man in secular dress (d) opposite her on the east face (inscription lost),
and St Katherine with small figures Eirene and Maria is in the main field
(c). In a niche to the right of this one is a large figure of the Archangel
Michael, with elderly figures of Nyphon the monk, and Eudokia kneeling
at his feet (e). Yet another figure, Basil the priest (f), not mentioned in the
lintel inscription, appears next to the Virgin and Child in a further small
niche on the north wall. The church is part of a small complex, probably a
hermitage which grew over a period of about one hundred and fifty years
to accommodate a small monastic community, and it would appear that
the Skepides family was responsible for the final layer of church
decoration, which is the one bearing their images. The ages and
groupings of figures suggest that Michael Skepides was the principal
donor and the elderly couple Nyphon and Eudokia his parents; Ekaterine
and Basil may have been Michael's siblings, and the others in Ekaterine's
niche her husband and children. Whether or not every detail of this
analysis is correct, the programme as a whole would seem to represent a
family concern with the Karaba§ site, with patron imagery adjusted to
represent the differences of status of the various family members, in
particular that two of them were in monastic retirement (or perhaps
dead, having taken the monastic habit shortly beforehand)."
Another mid eleventh-century Cappadocian example may offer
evidence of group patronage independent of family ties. Karanlik Kilise,
the church of a cave monastery in Goreme valley, has, like Karaba*,
several patron images (fig. 4): John entalniatikos and another man
(possibly Genethlios) both in secular dress (a), kneel before Christ in a
scene of the Benediction of the Apostles in the narthex; Nikephoros the
priest and another man (b) kneel before Christ enthroned in the main
apse. In the centre bay of the north wall two small figures, apparently
male juveniles, flank the archangel Gabriel (c); this group is mirrored by a
similar pair flanking the archangel Michael on the south wall (d).17 Here,
therefore, is a mixture of adults, secular and clerical, and children, but in
this case all the figures are male. The programme therefore either
16 For patronage of monasteries generally, see R. Morris, Monks and Laymen in

Byzantium, 843-1118 (Cambridge, 1995), 123-130 for the adoption of the monastic life in
terminal illness. I think it unlikely that the two members of the Skepides family retired to
the Karabq Kilise complex itself, particularly since they were monk and nun.
" Rodley, Cave Monasteries, 53-56. Of the four figures with archangels, only one has
the head surviving: this is beardless, without headdress.
168 LYN RODLEY
represents an act of patronage in which the male members of a family

acted alone, or one which was not associated with a single family at all,
but represents a group of another kind, such as a confraternity.18
At Karaba§ Kilise, the patron imagery indicated that some members of
the family had entered monastic retirement at the time of the donation.
At the church of the Anargyroi in Kastoria, the patron images actually
seem to record such a transition. The church, which was renovated and
repainted at the end of the twelfth century,19 has an inscription on the east
wall of the narthex, over the entrance to the naos, naming one Theodore
Lemniotes as the patron responsible. An image on the south wall of the
north aisle shows Theodore Lemniotes and his son John to the right of the
Virgin and Child, and Theodore's wife, Anna Radene, to the left, all
named in inscriptions next to the figures (fig. 5a). As it now appears, the
painting shows Theodore offering a church model to the Virgin and
Child, but this is an adjustment to the original painting, in which he
simply had his hands raised in a gesture of supplication. Further
alterations included overpainting the original secular robes of Theodore
to represent a drab monastic habit and supply him with the tall
headdress of a monk. Kyriakoudis suggests that the changes were made
when a further image was added, in the south aisle, of an elderly man in
monastic habit, inscribed Theophilos Lemniotes, monk, and holding a
church-model (fig. 5b). The circumstances proposed to explain these
changes are that Theodore and Theophilos are the same man: Theodore
repaired and redecorated the church, an action recorded by the west wall
inscription and the family patron image; later on, when in old age or near
death he became a monk, taking the name Theophilos, the south aisle
painting was added. The overpainting of the first image is thus explained
as a measure to bring it up to date with Theodore's changed status by
altering his costume; the church model was added so that his role as
ktetor was evident in both images.20 It may be noted before leaving this
1e For such groups generally, see P. Horden, 'The Confraternities in Byzantium', in

W.J. Sheils and D. Wood, eds, Voluntary Religion (Oxford, 1986), 25-45.
19 A date at the end of the twelfth century is attributed on the basis of close stylistic
similarity with the paintings of Kurbinovo, former Yugoslavia, dated 1199: T. Malmquist,
Byzantine Twelfth-Century Frescoes in Kastoria (Uppsala, 1979).
20 E.N. Kyriakoudis, '0 x ci copa5 'cof) vaov Tmv Ay. Avapyvpot KaatioptdS Oeocpn?Log
Ariµvtd ,n1q', Balkanika Symmeikta 1 (1981), 3-23. A tall headdress was added also to the
figure of Anna, perhaps indicating that both entered monastic life. The church of the
Anargyroi demonstrates still further complexities of patronage: in both earlier and later
phases of its several layers of painting there are more patron images: S. Pelekanides and M.
Chatzedakis, Kastoria (Athens, 1985), pls 29 and 40.
example that although Theodore/Theophilos is clearly identified as

ktetor, the figure of his wife Anna is much larger than those of her
husband and son, and we may suspect that there was some reason for his
prominence - perhaps that hers was the better pedigree?
Changing circumstances are also indicated by a patron image in the
single-naved fourteenth-century church of the Anastasis in Veria, also in
north-western Greece. A remarkably detailed lintel inscription on the
interior west wall attests that the church was built by one Xenos Psalidas
and that his wife Euphrosyne completed the work; the painter was
Kallierges, declared the best in the region, and the church was
consecrated by the patriarch, in the time of the Emperor Andronikos, in
the year 1315.2i The painted decoration contains no images of Xenos or
Euphrosyne - a reminder that the inclusion of patron images was a
matter of choice, and many monuments lack them - but on the south wall
of the nave there is a figure of a monk, kneeling before St Anthony and St
Arsenios (fig. 6), who stand side by side in the file of saints traditionally
found in the lowest register in Byzantine painted churches. An inscription
next to the monk appears to associate him with a stauropegic monastery
(under the authority of the patriarch), but is too fragmentary to be
reconstructed. Pelekanides adds to all this the evidence of patriarchal
documents of 1314, now in the Great Laura of Mount Athos, which
record the granting of a monastery of Christ Soter in Veria to an Athonite
priest-monk Ignatios Kalothetos, to be administered by his father
Andreas Kalothetos while Ignatios remained on Athos; he suggests,
22
therefore, that the kneeling monk is Kalothetos (father or son). A
plausible sequence, therefore, has Xenos Psalidas as the initial patron of
the Church of the Anastasis, who died (in 1314?) before the work was
finished. His wife Euphrosyne then ceded the church to a patriarchal
monastery and ensured the completion of the painted decoration,
modifying the programme to include the image of the monk. Conceivably
Xenos (or Euphrosyne) had kinship of some kind with the Kalothetos
family - perhaps also with the patriarch (Nyphon), given that he
consecrated the church. Whatever the relationship, the Psalidas family
apparently derived some status-by-association from including the
reference to the participation of the patriarch in the consecration of the
church.
2'G.G. Gounaris, The Church of Christ in Veria (Thessalonike, 1991).

u S. Pelekanides, Kczflte.pyrl5 oXr1S 9etitaXta5 aptatio; wypacpo; (Athens, 1973), 12.
170 LYN RODLEY
Reflected glory may also have been influential in the creation of a

group of images in the north-west corner of the Pigeon House Church at
Cappadocia (fig. 7). At the centre of this programme is a large
panel on the north wall, showing an archangel with male and female
kneeling patrons, probably husband and wife, their inscriptions too
damaged to yield names. In the north apse stand the emperor
Nikephoros Phokas, his wife Theophano, his father, the Caesar Bardas,
his brother Leo the Curopalates and a woman, probably Leo's wife. To
the left of the archangel panel, on the north wall, are equestrian figures,
also with inscriptions, of the strategoi Melias and, probably, John
Tzimiskes The arrangement, and the wording of the inscriptions with
the imperial group, suggest that the central couple with the archangel
were the patrons of the church, and the inclusion of the imperial family
and the generals in its decoration might have been a way of declaring
their elevated associations - possibly the couple were relatives of
Nikephoros, who came of a Cappadocian family.
'Status-by-association' may also explain cases in which a new
programme of decoration acknowledges earlier patrons. At Asinou
(Cyprus) a fourteenth-century redecoration of the church of the Panagia
Phorbiotissa depicts the twelfth-century founder, on the interior lunette
above the south door of the naos. Here, Nikephoros magistros, proffering a
model of the church, is presented to Christ by the Virgin, and an
inscription identifies him as the builder of the church (fig. 8a); a small
female figure behind him - possibly his wife or daughter - is named as
Gephyra, who died in 1099. Nikephoros is mentioned again in an
inscription below the southwest lunette of the naos, which also dates his
work to 1105/6.24 As noted, both the images and inscriptions relating to
this twelfth-century patron are part of a fourteenth-century refurbish-
ment, but precisely who was responsible for this is unclear, since the
church has several layers of painting, the dating of some of which is
disputed, and there is no documentary evidence to elucidate its history.
An inscription alongside a large figure of St George in the narthex credits
it to a second patron named Nikephoros and indicates that by the time
this work was done (perhaps in the late twelfth/early thirteenth century)
the church belonged to a monastery. The narthex also contains a number
' Melias and John Tzimiskes were generals under Nikephoras Phokas; John
Tzimiskes, of course, later became emperor himself. L. Rodley, 'The Pigeon House Church,
JOB 33 (1983), 301-339 and N. Thierry, 'Un portrait de Jean Tzimiskes en
Cappadoce', TM 9 (1985), 477-484.
N
Stylianou, Cyprus, 114-117.
of patron images, of more than one period, most in separate panels with
customary 'servant of God ... ' inscriptions (fig. 8b: three are secular
figures: George (with St George), Anastasia Saramalina (with St
Anastasia), Anna of Laha (with St Anne) and eight are monks (Kallinikos,
Basil, Babylas, Leontios, Laurentios, Germanos, Barnabas and
Theophilos)). A family group of husband, wife and son, in Frankish
dress, appears with the Virgin and Child in the south lunette. Finally, a
fragmentary inscription over the west door of the narthex gives the name
Theophilos and the date 1332/3 for another phase of repainting; it is
likely that the repainting of the original founder's portrait belongs with
this phase. In the absence of contextual information, the relationships of
all the people depicted to each other, or to the monastery, are unlikely to
be elucidated, but it would appear that, over a period of over two
centuries, the monastery attracted the patronage of several individuals or
families, some of whom, at least, wished to continue their association
with the first founder.
Several components already described appear together in a final
example which is very much on the 'fringes of empire'. The chapel of the
Panagia Eleousa is built in the shelter of a large cave on the shore of Lake
(Great) Prespa 26 The style of its ornamental, if rustic, brickwork suggests
a date no earlier than the fourteenth century for construction, and an
inscription on the interior west wall (in a panel at the base of the
Dormition of the Virgin) records that it was repainted for three patrons:
Kyr Sabas, Kyr Iakobos and Barlaam, all priest-monks. The inscription
also gives the date 1410 and the name of a ruler, the authentes Vlkasin, but
without explaining his connection with the site. A further inscription (at
the base of a niche in the south wall) names the priest-monk Ioanikios as
painter. Depicted on the south wall of the nave, flanking the Virgin and
Child, is a patron couple (fig. 9): a man to the right, presenting a church-
model, and a woman to the left, but no inscriptions survive to identify
these two27 The diversity of the arrangements already seen permits a
range of conjecture here. Perhaps the depicted couple were relatives of
one (or all?) of the priest-monks named in the west wall inscription. Or
perhaps the man of the couple is actually one of those priest-monks,
shown in his secular manifestation before adopting the monastic habit.
25
D.C. Winfield, Asinou (Nicosia, 1969), 26-27.
26
N. Moutsopoulos, 'Bvcavtinva p.veµeia tips ptyaAcS ClpeaaaS , 171-199, in
ApOpa xai MEAetifffscna 1959-1989, Analekta Blatadon 51 (1990).
27 They may have existed once; the surface of the painting looks 'scrubbed', especially
on the lower parts of the wall.
172 LYN RODLEY
Alternatively, the image of the couple may commemorate the builders of

the chapel, which the three priest-monks caused to be redecorated. The
name of Vlkasin may have been included to place the commission
chronologically, or to reflect the political circumstances of the time, or to
establish some connection with an important local dignitary.21
In summary, therefore, it is the case that the simple formulas of patron
imagery were not bound to prescribed meanings, but were deployed
creatively to meet the particular circumstances of each commission, and
evidence of such flexibility found from Cappadocia to Macedonia
suggests that this was the norm throughout the empire. In most instances,
the exact circumstances of patronage cannot be understood unless
documentary evidence is available to enlarge upon that of the images
themselves. On the strength of this, the question raised at the outset, as to
whether provincial patron images differ from metropolitan ones, is likely
to have a negative answer. The very small number of non-imperial
metropolitan images makes it impossible to decide this with certainty, but
the likelihood is that, since there is no rigid formula for provincial
images, there was none for metropolitan ones either. The few non-
imperial images known from Constantinopolitan churches are of
Palaiologan date and conform to the 'basic vocabulary' noted above:29 a
lady kneels before a standing figure of the Virgin and Child in a painting
done when the substructure of the tenth-century Myrelaion church was
remodelled as a burial chamber,3° a similar image, but with a male figure
holding a scroll, was found in Kalenderhane Camii, in a passage between
the bema and diakonikon,3' finally, in the lunette of a tomb niche in St
Euphemia of the Hippodrome, a cleric kneels to present a church-model
to the Virgin and Child.32 In all these cases the survivals are isolated
fragments, the full pictorial context of which is unknown. The only
church of the capital that has its decoration, including patron images,
reasonably intact is that of the Chora monastery (Kariye Camii) which
28 Even this was not without its problems: a ruler named Vlkagin died in 1371, but the
inscription is dated 1410; possibly there was a later ruler of the same name. Moutspoulos,
Ilpeana5, 189-192.
29
And it may be noted in passing that a variety of meanings was also created for the
several imperial images in Hagia Sophia, for which see above, note 2.
3°
C.L. Striker, The Myrelaion (Bodrum Camii) in Istanbul (Princeton, NJ, 1981), 31, figs
60-62; there may have been other such images in the substructure.
31 C.L. Striker and Y.D. Kuban, 'Work at Kalenderhane Camii in Istanbul: Second
Preliminary Report', DOP 22 (1968), 185-194,192 and fig. 33.
32 R. Naumann and H. Belting, Die Euphemia-Kirche am Hippodrome zu Istanbul and ihre
Fresken. Istanbuler Forschungen 25 (1966), 189-193.
was refounded (and virtually rebuilt) by Theodore Metochites, grand

logothete under Andronikos II, where work was finished by 1321. A
famous mosaic lunette in the inner narthex, above the door to the naos,
shows Theodore, wearing an extraordinary hat and kneeling before the
enthroned Christ, presenting a church-model (fig. 10a). An adjacent
larger panel to the right (thus on the east wall of the inner narthex) has
large figures of Christ and the Virgin accompanied by two small figures
(fig. 10b): one, to the right, next to the Virgin, is a kneeling woman, in
nun's habit, identified by inscription as Melane the nun, a lady of the
Palaiologos family (fig. 10b). This may be either the half-sister or the
daughter of Andronikos II and her presence surely indicates that she is an
auxiliary patron of some kind, possibly linked by kinship or marriage to
Theodore's family. The other small figure represents Isaac Komnenos, son
of the emperor Alexios I and a twelfth-century patron of the Chora
monastery, and indicates that Theodore Metochites saw something to be
gained in acknowledging an earlier imperial patron.33 Here, therefore, we
have a metropolitan example of patronage with several strands to it,
much as was the case in the provincial examples noted above. Even what
one might suspect to be a provincial trait in the 'status-by-association'
pattern seen in some of those provincial examples appears also in the
splendid commission of the emperor's chief officer. Perhaps it should be
no surprise to find that manifestations of human nature are much the
same, whether in the court of Constantinople or a cave on Lake Prespa.
P.A. Underwood, The Kariye Djami (New York, 1966), I. 42-43, 45-48; pls 26-29, 36-
41.
1. St Demetrios (Dali)
2. Kirk Dam Alti Kilise (Belisirma)
3. Karabag Kilise (Soganh)
Plate 12: 1 St Demetrios (Dali) (drawing: Lyn Rodley)

Plate 12:2 Kirk Dam Alti Kilise (Belisirma) (drawing: Lyn Rodley)
Plate 12:3 Karabq Kilise (Soganli) (drawing: Lyn Rodley)
O.t
@a
. off .
A '-,n
4. Karanlik Kilise (Goreme)
5. Holy Anargyroi (Kastoria)
rs
/
on \( ice/
ill ' \rry \ 4,
I'I I l I
IIJI
'II V
6. Church of the Anastasis (Veria)
Plate 12:4 Karanhk Kilise (Goreme) (drawing: Lyn Rodley)

Plate 12:5 Holy Anargyroi (Kastoria) (drawing: Lyn Rodley)
Plate 12:6 Church of the Anastasis (Veria) (drawing: Lyn Rodley)
® U 8. Panagia Phorbiotissa (Asinou)
* Uv
Plate 12:7 Pigeon House Church (drawing: Lyn Rodley)

Plate 12:8 Panagia Phorbiotissa (Asinou) (drawing: Lyn Rodley)
10. Chora Monastery (Constantinople)
Plate 12:9 Panagia Eleousa (Lake Prespa) (drawing: Lyn Rodley)

Plate 12:10 Chora Monastery (Constantinople) (drawing: Lyn Rodley)
13. The World of Fiction and the World
'Out There': the Case of the Byzantine Novel*
Roderick Beaton
The Byzantine novels of the twelfth century,' with their recurring story-
pattern of elopement, estrangement, exotic trials and eventual
homecoming, ought to be revealing of Byzantine attitudes towards these
matters. Each one of these novels sends its characters out into a world
where the character, formerly an insider in his own, familiar
environment, himself becomes the outsider in a series of environments
which are variously exotic, strange, and - especially - threatening.
I am grateful to Dr Ruth Webb and Professor Elizabeth Jeffreys, both of whom

looked over and commented on a version of this paper before it went to press, and
additionally to Dr Webb for letting me have the full text of her paper given at the 1995 BSC
conference in New York, of which only an abstract has been published (see note 2).
' Probably composed between the 1130s (Elizabeth Jeffreys: personal communication)
and the 1150s (for this consensus and bibliography see R. Beaton, The Medieval Greek
Romance, 2nd ed., revd, (London, 1996) 211-112. The four texts are: Prodromos, Rhodanthe
and Dosikles; Niketas Eugenianos, Drosilla and Charikles; Konstantinos Manasses, Aristandros
and Kallithea; Eustathios Makrembolites, Hysmine and Hysminias. The first three are in verse,
the fourth in prose; the third survives only in excerpted fragments, and will not be
discussed in this paper. For texts of all four, with introduction, notes, and parallel Italian
translation, see F. Conca, Il romanzo bizantino del XII secolo, Classici UTET (Turin, 1994). All
citations in this paper are to this edition. There are also serviceable modem editions of
Prodromos's and Eugenianos's novels: see, respectively, M. Marcovich, ed., Theodori
Prodromi, de Rhodanthes et Dosiclis amoribus libri IX (Stuttgart, 1992); F. Conca, ed., Nicetas
Eugenianus, de Drosillae et Chariclis amoribus, London Studies in Classical Philology no. 24
(Amsterdam, 1990). Makrembolites's novel has been translated into French and German:
see, respectively, F. Meunier, trans., Eumathios: Les amours homonymes (Paris, 1991); K.
Plepelits, ed. and trans., Eustathios Makrembolites, Hysmine and Hysminias. Eingeleitet,
ubersetzt and erlautert, Bibliothek der griechischen Literatur, no. 29 (Stuttgart, 1989).
However, there has been no critical edition of the Greek text since that of Hilberg in 1876.
An English translation of all four novels has been prepared by Elizabeth Jeffreys, and is
expected to be published shortly.
From Strangers to Themselves: The Byzantine Outsider, ed. Dion C. Smythe. Copyright @ 2000
179
180 RODERICK BEATON
But if these fictional texts are to be read in this way, we have to

eschew any expectation that the novels represent directly the everyday
world of their authors and readers. Even when the principal characters
are on their home ground at the beginning and end of the story, theirs is a
world with which the implied reader is assumed to be familiar, not from
daily experience, but from reading. In addition, we have to make full
allowance for the fact that these novels are predicated on a genre or type
of fiction which had last flourished almost a full millennium before the
twelfth-century writers took up the pen. This is not to reiterate the now
discredited view that they are nothing more than 'imitations' of the
Hellenistic novel.2 However, in order to see how these novels reinterpret
the world for their own time, we have to make full allowance for the
generic allusion which is built into every one of them. To make sense,
these novels have to be read against their Hellenistic predecessors - with
which, it is very clear, not only their authors but surely their intended
first readers also, were deeply familiar.
We must not therefore expect these novels to give us a direct picture
of insider-outsider relationships as they were perceived by educated
Byzantines of the twelfth century. Instead, in order to penetrate how
these texts conceive of such relationships, we have to read them for their
differences from the models of the genre which were exemplary for writers
and first readers alike.
In order to do this, I propose to use, in slightly modified form, the
concept of the 'chronotope' as coined by Mikhail Bakhtin. Bakhtin, in his
short book or long essay, 'Forms of Time and of the Chronotope in the
Novel: Towards a Historical Poetics ,3 is rare among historians and
theorists of the modem novel in the emphasis he places on the starting
point of Hellenistic fiction. On the other hand, though he mentions the
continuation of that genre in Byzantium, it is clear that even the
2
On the creative use of their Hellenistic predecessors by the writers of these novels,
see, from differing perspectives: M. Alexiou, 'A Critical Reappraisal of Eustathios
Makrembolites' Hysmine and Hysminias', BMGS 3 (1977), 23-43; F. Conca, 11 romanzo
(introduction); C. Jouanno, 'Nicetas Eugenianos, un heritier du roman grec', Revue des
Etudes Grecques 102 (1989), 346-360; S. MacAlister, 'Ancient and Contemporary in
Byzantine Novels', in J. Tatum, ed., The Search for the Ancient Novel (Baltimore and London,
1994), 308-322; Beaton, Romance, 52-88; R. Webb, 'Re-Writing and Re-Reading the Greek
Novel: Eustathios Makrembolites and the Metamorphoses of the Text' (BSC Abstracts,
1995).
3 M.M. Bakhtin, The Dialogic Imagination: Four Essays, in M. Holquist, ed. and trs. C.
Emerson and M. Holquist, University of Texas Press Slavic Series no. 1, (Austin, TX, 1981),
84-258.
WORLD OF FICTION AND WORLD 'OUT THERE' 181
prodigiously read Bakhtin had not looked at the twelfth-century texts,

and is content to repeat the dismissive verdict of Erwin Rohde.
Bakhtin's definitions are notorious, but the chronotope, as I
understand it, stands for the distinctive configuration of time and space
that defines 'reality' within the world of a text, as conceptualized within that
world itself. It is in this sense that Bakhtin characterizes the Hellenistic
novel as 'the adventure novel of ordeal'.4 Its plot takes place in
'adventure-time ;5 the world in which the hero and heroine endure their
adventures is 'an alien world in adventure-time'; 6 it is because this world
of adventure is so 'abstract' that it appears to be ruled (as all
commentators on the genre agree) by Chance.' This chronotope (or
subgenre: Bakhtin does not distinguish) is summed up in terms of
affirmation through test. And it is a sufficiently basic chronotope that it is
frequently revived, or used in multifarious ways, according to Bakhtin,
throughout the whole subsequent history of the European novel.
It is characteristic of this perceptual configuration of space and time,
as Bakhtin conceives it, that within it, space is interchangeable ('what
happens in Babylon could just as well happen in Egypt or Byzantium and
vice versa'), and so is time ('adventure-time leaves no defining traces and
is therefore in essence reversible').' It is in this way, although Bakhtin
does not make this fully explicit, that 'adventure-time' is distinguished
from biographical or historical time. And this is not a distinction between
fiction and fact, imagination and truth, as becomes clear when Bakhtin
contrasts the 'adventure-time' which makes up almost the whole of the
narrative in the Greek novels with the no less fictional moments of what
he calls 'biographical life' and `biographical time' that frame it. Such are
the meeting and falling in love, at the beginning of the hero's and
heroine's adventures, and the marriage at their end, moments to which
Bakhtin attributes 'biographical significance'. The entire chronotope of
adventure, then, lies in the 'gap, the pause, the hiatus that appears
between these two strictly adjacent biographical moments'.
4 Bakhtin, Dialogic Imagination, 86.

5 Bakhtin, Dialogic Imagination, 87 and passim.
6
Bakhtin, Dialogic Imagination, 89; 102.
' Bakhtin, Dialogic Imagination, 101; 95ff.
9
Bakhtin, Dialogic Imagination, 100.
9 Bakhtin, Dialogic Imagination, 89. Compare J.J. Winkler, who approaches the ancient
novel from a quite different perspective: 'In fact the entire form of the Greek romance can
be considered an elaboration of the period between initial desire and final consummation',
J.J. Winkler, 'The Invention of Romance', in Tatum, ed., Search, 23-38, citation from page
28.
182 RODERICK BEATON
'Biographical time' and 'adventure-time' may therefore each be more

or less fictional. The former has no necessary connection to any real
biography or historical context, but is distinguished from the latter by the
way the relations of space and time are conceived.
Let us now see how the conceptualization or construction of space and
time in the Byzantine novels compares with the equivalent phenomenon
in their generic models of Hellenistic times.
Modifying Bakhtin's account of the ancient novel only slightly, we can
show that it actually depends on the contrast between two different time-
spaces, which are marked by a radical disjunction between them. These,
to stay so far as possible within Bakhtin's terminology, we can term
'adventure time-space' and 'biographical time-space'. The first
(adventure time-space, which is the characteristic domain of all the
Hellenistic novels and defines what Bakhtin calls their 'chronotope') can
be glossed as that in which 'anything can happen anywhere, in any
order'. In adventure time-space all is ruled by Chance (or the whim of the
author, which for the inhabitants of that time-space is the same thing),
but nothing, not even apparent death, is irrevocable. That is what Bakhtin
means by describing this construction of time as 'reversible'. By contrast,
in 'biographical time-space', events have what Bakhtin terms
'significance': they have irreversible consequences, they define the
movement of a biographical subject through time, which in turn is part of
the uniquely unfolding process of history. (Once again, it is of no
importance whether the biographical subject is a real person or an
invented one; what matters is that for that subject, events have
consequences.) Not surprisingly, of these two time-spaces, the one which
is the more familiar to the reader, as it is also the one in which the
fictional characters are at home, is biographical time-space. (Even in the
ancient novel, this time-space is placed at some historical and usually also
geographical distance from the production of the text itself.) Biographical
time-space is fictional time-space, but it functions more or less like the
time-space in which the story is being narrated and (it is to be assumed)
also read.
To simplify the pattern somewhat, in each of the' five Hellenistic
novels that we possess entire,10 hero and heroine set out at the beginning
of their adventures from a given point in space and time. At the end of all
10 Chariton of Aphrodisias, Chaireas and Callirhoe, Xenophon of Ephesus, Ephesiaca;

Longus, Daphnis and Chloe; Achilles Tatius, Leucippe and Clitophon; Heliodorus, Aethiopica
(English translations of these and other related and fragmentary works collected in B.P.
Reardon, Collected Ancient Greek Novels (Berkeley, CA, 1989)).
WORLD OF FICTION AND WORLD'OUT THERE' 183
the mishaps and trials of their love for one another, they return to the
same place and the (according to Bakhtin) 'adjacent' moment of time in
their 'real', biographical lives, at which point the narrative ends.
How, then, is this pattern modified by the Byzantine continuators of
the genre?
With varying degrees of fictionality, and of emphasis, the world in
which the heroes and heroines of the twelfth-century novels are at home
(the world of their biographical time-space) is an antiquarian construct, a
composite Greek world which precedes Christianity and knows nothing
even of the Roman Empire, of which Byzantium was the official
continuation. As many textual allusions make abundantly clear, this is a
world 'familiar' to writers and implied readers through the classical
education of the Byzantine elite; and just as in the ancient novels, it
stands in implicit contrast with the world of adventures into which the
protagonists are precipitated when once they have transgressed its
boundaries.
By contrast, the world of adventure time-space in the three twelfth-
century novels which we possess complete presents a surprising amount
of variation. Theodore Prodromos in Rhodanthe and Dosikles, once he has
launched his pair of lovers into an alien world of adventures, seems
almost relieved to be able to forget them altogether for almost a third of
the length of the text, as he concentrates his efforts on the intrigues,
embassies, speeches and battles of their successive captors. The effect, in
Rhodanthe and Dosikles, is to marginalize the protagonists: the love that is
all-important to them in their own biographical time-space, in the
fictional adventure-world 'out there', in which battles and cities are won
and lost, comes to seem almost insignificant. There are good reasons for
thinking that whatever motivated the prolific and versatile Prodromos to
take up the challenge of writing in this genre, it was not an overwhelming
dedication to the 'love interest' of his theme.
Niketas Eugenianos, in Drosilla and Charikles, who in many respects
follows Prodromos faithfully, conspicuously puts this to rights: both in
biographical and adventure time-space the lyrical element is brought to
the fore, and for much of the extended sabre-rattling and bloodthirsty
episodes of Prodromos's adventure-time Eugenianos substitutes the
bathos and buffoonery of a Theocritan idyll gone wrong. But the most
radical departure, in this as in much else, as we shall, is made by
Eustathios Makrembolites in Hysmine and Hysminias. This time, it is not
until more than half-way through the text that the conventional
elopement displaces the hero and heroine from their own familiar world
184 RODERICK BEATON
into that of adventure-time." And just over one book later, all the
obligatory episodes of violence and terror having been compressed into
that space, the hero is returned to a time-space (still in adventure-time, to
be sure) in which places and events will closely and ironically mirror
those of his and the heroine's lives in their familiar, (biographical) world.
The strict formal organization of space and time in the fictional world
of this novel has been noticed before."Z Summarizing the action solely in
these terms, the novel's structure can be divided into three parts:
I (Books I-VI = 54% of text). Hysminias, chosen by lot as

herald as part of a religious festival, travels from his home
town of Eurykomis to Aulikomis where he is entertained by
the family of Hysmine with whom he falls in love. Both
families return to Eurykomis for the conclusion of the
festival, at which point it is announced that on her return to
Aulikomis, Hysmine is to be married off.
II (Books VII-VIII 15 = 15% of text). The pair elope from

Hysminias's home town by ship; at sea they are separated
and Hysminias is a victim of piracy and warfare before
becoming a slave in a well-to-do household in the town of
Dafnepolis.
III (Books VIII 16-XI = 32% of text). It is festival time again,

and Hysminias's master is sent as a herald to another town,
Artykomis. Hysminias, as a slave, goes along to serve him in
the household of his hosts. In this household, he finds
Hysmine, also a slave. As slaves, the pair reclaim their love
for one another and finally, thanks to the timely intervention
of their respective parents, Hysminias and Hysmine regain
" This happens at VII 4. The novel is divided into eleven books of roughly similar
length; or by a count of pages, 54% of the way through the text.
12 See Alexiou, 'A Critical Reappraisal', which also contains the fullest plot-summary
in English. Alexiou adopts the methodology of Tomas Hagg, Narrative Technique in Ancient
Greek Romances (Stockholm, 1971), for the Hellenistic novels, to demonstrate how the
greater part of the text represents the events of only a small number of days, with an
interval of a year in the middle. For the dislocation in time and space that separates the first
part of the novel from the events of its third part that run in parallel, see Beaton, Romance,
83-84.
WORLD OF FICTION AND WORLD 'OUT THERE' 185
their freedom and return to the latter's home town to be

married.
Just over half the entire length of this novel is devoted to representing a
time-space that in Bakhtin's terms can only be termed biographical. The
action of Books I-VI is markedly without adventures of the kind that
traditionally characterize the kind of 'adventure-time' traditional to this
genre. With unprecedented psychological subtlety, the stage-by-stage
progression of the biographical (and irreversible) experience of falling in
love is represented in these books. Although marked off from the
routines of daily life by the ceremonial of a religious festival, and
involving a complementary displacement of first the hero and then the
heroine (in the ritual journeys first from Eurykomis to Aulikomis and
then from Aulikomis to Eurykomis), none the less the environment in
which this process of falling in love takes place cannot be equated with
the exotic, threatening world of adventure-time, but belongs rather to the
world in which these characters have led their lives so far. The exotic and
the adventurous do indeed exist in this long first half of the novel; but
they are located not in a never-never world 'out there', but in the dreams
experienced by the hero-narrator Hysminias.
In terms of space and time, then, the journeys in the first part of this
novel (between the home towns of hero and heroine) belong to
biographical, not to adventure time-space. Hysmine's home town of
Aulikomis, to which Hysminias travels as herald and from which he
returns home again, with Hysmine, before the elopement that will finally
open the door to adventure time-space, is strange and wonderful to
Hysminias (as perhaps Eurykomis is to her, although, since it is
Hysminias who tells the story, we are not told this); but the heroine,
throughout most of this first part of the novel, is on her own home
ground. And since what Hysminias experiences there is the carefully
staged process of falling in love, Aulikomis, no less than Eurykomis,
turns out to belong decisively to biographical time-space for him too.
What happens to him is not 'reversible'. Neither could it be happening
just as well at any other place or any other time than this.
If we look back at the schematic division of the novel above, two
unprecedented characteristics of the adventures which follow the lovers'
elopement are immediately apparent. The first is the almost perfunctory
extent into which many of the longest-established types of adventure in
the genre are compressed: only one and a half of the novel's eleven
books, or 15% of the text. By half-way through Book VIII, Hysminias's
186 RODERICK BEATON
travels are largely over. All the remaining adventures, which traditionally
take the form of trials of his and Hysmine's constancy, are distributed, in
space, between the alternating sites of Dafnepolis and Artykomis, until
the final return to the familiar, biographical axis (Eurykomis/Aulikomis)
at the very end, and concentrated, in time, into a finite number of days.
There is a strong hint, in the compressed second part of the novel, that
the traditional components of the lovers' ordeal in adventure time-space
are for the first time in the genre explicitly (and playfully) understood to
be what, at a certain level of interpretation, they perhaps always were:
namely externalization of inner experiences or processes.
This hint is confirmed when we move on to the third part of the
narrative. Structurally speaking, the second half of Book VIII is
transitional, explaining as it does how Hysminias comes to be a slave in
the household of the unnamed herald at Dafnepolis, and, significantly,
both specifying and mystifying the precise dislocation in both time and
space which separates the festivals at Dafnepolis and Artykomis (which
belong to the alien world of adventure time-space) from those of the
protagonists' familiar world of Eurykomis and Aulikomis.
The third part of the narrative gets into its stride with the start of Book
D(, when Hysminias's master is chosen to be the herald and to travel to
another town (Artykomis) as part of another religious festival. It has
already been noticed that the action which begins here, and continues up
to the end of the novel, mirrors closely the developing action of the first
part, with the significant and frequently signalled difference that, in the
first part, hero and heroine were free but enslaved to Eros, whereas now
they are degraded as the slaves, not only of Eros, but of human masters
as well."
Book IX begins almost exactly as the first book did, with a description
of the festival, the drawing of lots, and the journey of the herald and his
entourage. But whereas at the ritual banquet in the first part, Hysminias
the herald had been the object of advances by Hysmine, the daughter of
his host, here, as a slave, he is importuned by Rhodope, the daughter of
his master's host. Rhodope's advances, it is assumed, are improper not
only because Hysminias is already the slave of Eros, who has betrothed
him to Hysmine (this Rhodope could not have been expected to know!)
but also because the object of her attentions is literally a slave in her
father's house (something which Rhodope can see for herself, and here
lies the superficial, external proof of her transgression). The symmetry is
" Cf. Beaton, Romance, 81-84; 212-214.

WORLD OF FICTION AND WORLD'OUT THERE' 187
compounded when Hysminias discovers, on the second day in the house

at Artykomis, that one of Rhodope's slavegirls, whose resemblance to
Hysmine had troubled him on the first, is indeed Hysmine (how she
came there Hysminias, and we, will only learn much later). As the action
develops, and on Hysmine's initiative, Hysminias finds himself
responding nominally to the advances of Rhodope, but using Hysmine as
the pretended intermediary for a progressive affirmation of love which is
of course destined for Hysmine alone.
There is much play, in all this, with the ironies and symmetries of
freedom and slavery, which certainly has a symbolic dimension, whether
or not it is truly allegorical in the Western medieval sense. But, restricting
the argument, for present purposes, to the construction of space and time
in the narrative, it is clear that the world of 'adventure-time' depicted in
Books IX and X, and which becomes re-connected to the world of
biographical time and space in the course of Book XI, has been artfully
constructed so as to mirror, across a crucial displacement, the characters'
own familiar world. The household in which Hysminias finds himself a
slave is the mirror-image of the one that he has lost. Similarly, the
household of Sostratos and his daughter Rhodope in which he finds
Hysmine a slave no less closely mirrors that of her father Sosthenes at
Aulikomis. And both Hysminias and Hysmine, as slaves, work their way
towards freedom and the affirmation of their love in an environment
almost identical to that which they have left behind. The exotic, 'other', or
testing element, here, lies not in the strangeness of the adventures which
lie in wait for the pair, but in the reversal of their own condition, as they
experience what is essentially their own familiar environment in an
unfamiliar, and highly disadvantageous role.
Conclusion
In Hysmine and Hysminias, then, the exotic and the other are to be found
no longer in the never-never world of adventures, in the 'gap' between
moments of biographical time, as Bakhtin termed the chronotope of the
Hellenistic novel. Instead, the traditional ingredients of adventure time-
space are downgraded to an almost perfunctory role, and also portrayed
with knowing humour.14 The true - and quite new - territory of the
'other' is to be found, in the first part of the novel, in the dreams and the
14 This aspect is well analysed by both Alexiou, 'A Critical Reappraisal' and Webb,
'Re-Writing'.
188 RODERICK BEATON
subjective, irreversible, biographical experiences of the individual; in its

third part in a world which is the exact mirror-image of the protagonists'
familiar world back home, but which is made strange, threatening and
testing only by the fact that they themselves have changed. They experience
as 'other', and are tested (as is traditional in the genre), by a world that is
essentially identical to their own, but experienced, this time, from the
position not of masters but of slaves.
What we see in the chronotope of the Byzantine novel is a marked
domestication of the 'other', which in its inherited, fabulous form is
treated to affectionate ridicule, while the true 'other' is seen to reside in
the consciousness of the hero-narrator (the dreams of the first part), and
in the reversal of status that defamiliarizes an otherwise familiar world
(in the third part). The first of these chronologically anticipates, and bears
an intriguing relation to, what Bakhtin terms the chronotope of Western
medieval fiction.'5 The second (an otherness which consists in the reversal
of status) seems to anticipate even later developments in the genre of
fiction.
So in this way, based on a reading of the Byzantine novels and
especially Hysmine and Hysminias, it is possible to extrapolate a perception
of the 'other' as conceived by a talented and educated writer of the
Comnenian court around the middle of the twelfth century. That
perception of the 'other', which deserves to be regarded as a radical
conceptual innovation at that time, may be succinctly summed up in the
phrase of the twentieth-century poet George Seferis:
'tov Evo xai tiov E Op5 tiov ei.SaRF_ 6tiov ica8p'T C

the stranger and the enemy: we saw him in the mirror."
15 It is in the context of the chivalric romance ('a miraculous world in adventure-time')

that, according to Bakhtin, the strict literal linearity of time begins to be challenged by the
subjective, inner experience of dreams. As he puts it: 'Time begins to be influenced by
dreams; that is, we begin to see the peculiar distortion of temporal perspectives
characteristic of dreams. Dreams no longer function merely as an element of the content,
but begin to acquire a form-generating function' (The Dialogic Imagination, 154). The kind of
writing that Bakhtin describes here did not begin in the West, so far as is known, until the
time of Chretien de Troyes in the 1170s and 1180s, almost certainly some decades after
Makrembolites's novel was written.
Ib Giorgos Seferis, Poiemata (8th ed., Athens, 1972): 'Mythistorema', sect. 4.
14. Akritis and Outsiders
Elizabeth Jeffreys
In the Byzantine poem Digenis Akritis, at the end of the hero's life, Digenis
makes a speech of farewell from his deathbed to his beloved wife. He is
concerned for her in her coming widowhood. In the Grottaferrata version
of the poem he cries out:
But, my most longed-for Girl, what grief of yours shall I lament?

How shall I console you? Where am I to leave you, the foreigner?
(G8.129-130)'
Digenis's reference to his wife as a xene, a foreigner, a stranger, an

outsider, raises questions about the poem's concepts of familial and social
relationships. In an earlier passage, which has been more discussed,
Digenis is said to choose to live alone (monos):
And he chose to spend his time in solitude on the frontiers,

taking the girl with him and his own servants.
For he had a boundless desire to spend his time alone
and to walk alone with no companion. (G4.956-959)
In the following lines it becomes plain that his desire for solitude, which
is also emphasized elsewhere in the poem, does not exclude the presence
of his agouroi, 'youngsters', a group of fighting retainers, as well as his
wife and servants already mentioned. Here again we have a term which
demands examination for its implications about the place of an individual
in the family and society. This paper proposes to look at lexical clusters in
Digenis Akritis connected with the words xenos and monos. Incidentally, it
My gratitude, as always, to Michael Jeffreys for his willingness to read and

comment.
' All translations and quotations are from E.M. Jeffreys, Digenis Akritis. The
Grottaferrata and Escorial versions (Cambridge, 1998).
189
190 ELIZABETH JEFFREYS
will add to recent explorations of the poem's nature through comparison

of the very different forms in which it has survived.
Digenis Akritis is preserved in six Greek manuscripts. In the following
discussion the four later versions (T, A, P and 0), interesting though they
are, will be ignored. The focus will be on G and E, the primary versions
which, it is now well understood, he behind the compiled version
christened Z by Erich Trapp, from which TAP and 0 derive.
G - the Grottaferrata version - and E - the Escorial version - are very
different from each other and scholarly debate continues over the
relationship of the one with the other. It is important to remember,
however, that the manuscript in which G survives is to be dated to some
time around 1300 and the manuscript in which E survives to some time
around 1480. Both versions tell much the same story though there are
major variations: G, for example, does not know about Digenis's first
encounter with the apelates, the unruly band of guerrillas, while E says
nothing about the emperor's visit or Digenis's dealings with the daughter
of Aploravdis. Set out opposite is the framework of the poem's plot,
divided up into the five sections which can be perceived as common to
both G and E. The similarities include much wording: there are a dozen
or so lines that are virtually identical in each and very many more that
reflect each other lexically, syntactically or thematically. From this I, and
others, draw the conclusion that a proto-Digenis, a simple written text,
stands somewhere behind both G and E and is reflected in both.
However, blurred as it has been by the transmission processes that have
led to the present forms of G and E, this proto-Digenis cannot be recreated
in any detail. Recent papers have discussed the restricted possibilities
available for the reconstruction of particular It seems to me to
episodes.2
be a valid principle that where G and E agree, whether at the level of

wording, plot sequence or overall structure, then this common element
may be claimed as part of proto-Digenis. Where they disagree, then the
situation is more complex. It remains a challenge to explore the
relationships between these two primary surviving versions and to
attempt to glimpse the proto-Digenis that lies behind them.
Reverting to the words with which I began, there is a difference in the
uses of xenos in G and E. E uses it once and G fourteen times, as both
2
On the opening scenes: R. Beaton, 'An epic in the making? The early versions of
Digenis Akrites', in R. Beaton and D. Ricks, eds, Digenes Akrites: new approaches to Byzantine
heroic poetnj (London, 1993), 55-72; on the closing scene: E.M. Jeffreys, 'Digenis and Charos:
G and E reconsidered', in C.N. Constantinides et al., eds, OtAeAAgv,, Studies in honour of
Robert Browning (Venice, 1996), 117-131.
AKRITIS AND OUTSIDERS 191
Episode G E
Lay of the emir
The emir raids, carries off the girl; her 1.1-197 [lacuna in E]
brothers pursue and defeat the emir 1-55
They cannot find girl, emir produces her, 1.198-337; 2.1-49 56-224
converts, marries; birth of DA
Emir's mother writes, he quarrels with the 2.50-300; 3.1-343 225-609
brothers, leaves his bride, returns to Syria,
converts his mother and returns
Romance of DA
Educ ation of DA 610-620
DA visits Philop app ous and asks to jo in 621-701
the guerrillas
Emir's exploits; 4.1-47; 702-791
education and first hunt of DA 4.48-253
DA serenades the girl and carries her off 4.254-855 [lacuna in E]
792-1065
The wedding of DA and the gifts 4.856-952 1066-1088
DA on the borders with the girl 4.953-970 1089-1094
1095-1096
DA's parents die
Visit from the empe r or -
4. 971 1093
DA's exploits (1st pers. narrative)

DA's mee tin g w ith Ap l orav di s 's daug ht er -
5 . 1 289
Meadow in May, the encounter with the 6.1-175 1097-1196
serpent, lion and guerrillas
Defeat of the three guerrillas 6.176-310 1197-1315
Guerrillas summon Maximou and 6.311-475 1316-1420
Melimitzis
DA defeats guerrillas and Maximou 6.476-713 1421-1351
DA defeats Maximou again and commits 6.714-805 [lacuna at 1352-1605
adultery 785 / 6]. (6.795-798 kills
Maximou)
(end of exploits and 1st p. narrative)
Palace and garden
Garden and palace by Euphrates; DA 7.1-229 1606-1659
keeps peace on borders (7.106-55 death and 1660-1694
burial of father; 7.189- tomb on bridge
198 mother)
Death
DA falls ill, recalls his past life with the 8.1-141 1695-1793
girl, advises her; they both die 8.142-198 1794-1867
F unera l and mourni ng -
8 . 199 313 (8 . 238-244
tomb at Trusis)
adjective and noun. As an adjective it has the meaning 'extraordinary',

'marvellous', or even 'bizarre', and is applied to Digenis's appearance,
the girl's singing, a garden, a room and so on. E normally has no
equivalent phrase at these points (G's descriptions are regularly more
elaborate) though xenocharagos (1632) appears once, referring to the wall
around Digenis's garden.
As a noun G uses xenos, or rather xene, twice to refer to the girl,
Digenis's bride; both references occur in the deathbed scene. The first I
quoted just now; the passage goes on to explain that the girl will have no
parents to advise and support her. The second comes just as Digenis
expires, with a prayer of gratitude that, through the girl's death, he has
been spared the unendurable pain of imagining her fate as a xene in his
absence (G8.194). For Digenis, the status of xene that he attributes to his
wife is entirely negative.
G also uses xenos of the emir, Digenis's father, a convert to Christianity
who came to live in his wife's Christian family. When his plans for
returning to Syria are discovered, 'he was ashamed because he was found
out and frightened because he was a xenos' (G2.173). Again a negative
condition; the implication is that the emir is frightened because he is
vulnerable, since he has no advocates. However, a little later (G2.225) the
classical ambiguity of this word emerges. His bride pleads with her
brothers for their sympathy; the emir should not be harmed precisely
because he is a xenos. He is an outsider, a stranger, but also a guest
deserving of hospitality, the dual element present in this word from the
Homeric poems onwards. There is nothing of this in E: we are simply told
that the emir was frightened.
Later, however, Digenis and the girl approach his father's house after
their successful elopement and are met by a great procession, made up of
all the members of the household. The girl has no idea who the huge
crowd is and fears the worst. If these are xenoi, she says, then they are
going to separate us. The wording is almost identical in both G and E, so
this line may be attributed to proto-Digenis 3 The sense of xenoi here must
be 'not one of us', 'people who do not know us', 'people we can't trust'.
Of related lexical items the most obvious is xeniteia, that is, the
condition of being a xenos, a term whose uses in the spiritual life are
examined elsewhere in this volume. There are no examples of this word
in E, but in G it appears twice. We find it in connection with the girl,
Digenis's wife, where in the deathbed scene she prays for pity on her
3
E1038 and G4.804.
xeniteian, on her state of being a xene (G8.171). The girl thus accepts
Digenis's negative interpretation of her situation. And we find it used in
an interesting way in connection with the emir earlier in the poem
(G3.266), where he refers to his absence in Syria to fetch his mother as his
xeniteia, that is, he experiences xeniteia in his absence from his bride and
his new family.
G's usage of xenos and xeniteia looks somewhat paradoxical. The term
xenos is applied both to the emir and to Digenis's bride after they have
married into a family unit - in other words they are being identified as
extraneous elements that have been introduced into an enclosed group.
The emir, however, has been sufficiently integrated into the group for
him to regard his temporary separation from it when he goes to fetch his
mother as a xeniteia. His incorporation has been complete, marked by his
own conversion and baptism; we see him later functioning on equal terms
with his wife's brothers in the education of the young hero. His
incorporation into a new family is much more significant than his rejected
origins. Digenis's bride, on the other hand, especially when her new
family is about to disappear on Digenis's death, still remains an alien
element, in need of the support of her birth familial unit; she needs her
fathers and brothers. We are beginning to see something of G's usages
and concepts. To be a xenos is to be outside a supportive family unit, a
condition not usually perceived as desirable. Margaret Mullett has
emphasized just how important family ties were to the functioning of
Byzantine society:4 they involved, as we see here, an ambivalence
towards outsiders who were brought in perforce, as brides and grooms,
in order to allow the blood line to continue. Parallels from the post-
Byzantine period are legion in the values of traditional Greek society as
recorded in folksong: in the Bridge of Arta, for example, the luckless bride
is an expendable xene.s The question of relationships between spouses
and the families into which they marry becomes a major subject of
anthropological study in twentieth-century Greece!
Let us now consider the second set of words and phrases. Digenis
himself, as we have seen, famously wants to be alone. How does this fit in
with exclusion from a family unit which, in G's usages elsewhere, is to be
' M. Mullett, 'Byzantium: a friendly society?', P&P 118 (1988), 3-24.

5 R. Mandel, 'Sacrifice at the Bridge of Arta: sex roles and the manipulation of power',
Journal of Modern Greek Studies 1 (1983), 173-183; M. Alexiou, 'Sons, wives and mothers:
reality and fantasy in some Modem Greek ballads', Journal of Modern Greek Studies 1 (1983),
73-111, especially 78-79.
6
As it is, for example, in J. Du Boulay, Portrait of a Mountain Village (Oxford, 1974).
a xenos, a negative condition? The relevant lexical items are the adjectives
monachos, monos, both meaning 'alone', 'on one's own', and monogenis,
'only child', which is tied up with monos and monachos, and the noun
monaxia.
These words are spread across G and E. So monos, in all cases, is found
64 times in G, 25 times in E. Monachos is preferred by E where it occurs 16
times, as opposed to twice in G. Monogenis is found 4 times in G and
twice in E. Monotatos, the superlative of monos, is found twice, in G only.
Monaxia occurs twice in G and once in E.
Many instances are absolutely straightforward, as in the dozen or so
examples of monon functioning adverbially to mean 'only'. Adjectivally
monos more often than not also simply means 'only'; as in G4.303: Toiitio
SE µovo Eiixoµai, EmEp 6c7toBExi6v Got ('I make this prayer only, if it is
acceptable to you'). The word monachos, preferred by E, often functions in
the same way, and often parallels monos in G: as in E1250 xai j.ovaxov to
xpatiriµav Wtoµetvsv 6tid xEpiv and G6.220 s v till XEtpi. TO xpatriµa µovov Rot
&nOxIT0,9, both meaning 'only the handle was left in his (my) hand'.
Monos used in this way is found applied to a chamber, a prisoner, flight,
comfort, love, God and so forth. No value judgements are implied.
The remaining occurrences carry the meaning 'alone', 'on their own'
and are applied, in descending order of frequency, to Digenis, the girl,
Maximou, the apelates, Aploravdis's daughter, the emir and his bride and
his bride's brothers, more often than not appearing to imply a value
judgement of some kind. Interestingly, according to my lists, monos and
its cognates are not used of the two generals and their wives or of the
emir's mother.
Let us deal with the least intricate cases first. The emir and his bride
are alone (monoi) in their chamber as he prepares to depart to Syria
(G2.266); E simply puts them in the chamber - a straightforward
statement of fact. The apelates are warned not to set off on their own
against Digenis (3 occasions in G, one in E);7 they are being warned that
he is a dangerous opponent. The brothers of Digenis's mother are said to
have acted alone (monoi) when rescuing their sister: by implication they
are commended. This is G's phrasing (G2.232); E simply has a generally
approbatory remark (E404-6). Aploravdis's daugher is on her own when
Digenis finds her (G5.127, 156; an episode only in G). This has obvious
implications: it means that she lacks protectors since the faithless Roman
youth in whom she had put her trust had gone off with the horses; she is
G6.464, 6.488, 6.255; E1358.

vulnerable and Digenis rapes her. A pattern is developing which becomes

clear when Digenis, the girl and Maximou are considered. Males are
admired and commended for actions taken independently; females are
not.
If we consider the case of the girl, there is one use of mone which is
irrelevant to this argument: at E954 (not reflected in G), as her father
pursues them, she urges Digenis to make his escape since she alone has
been responsible for their predicament. Otherwise the point of the
statements in which mone is applied to the girl is that when she is on her
own, she lacks protection, or the prestige of a suitable retinue, the
support of her kinsfolk and in particular of her male relatives, her father
and brothers. This comes up when the elopement (or abduction) is being
planned, in both G and E (G4.808; 4.814, cf. E1048-9), and when her
mother first hears of the abduction (in E1024). It is a disgrace, not to be
mitigated by claims that her family's status, and so hers also, is self-
evident. The consequences for a female of being 'on one's own' become
apparent when the apelates catch sight of the girl 'on her own', when
Digenis has fallen asleep in the meadow (G6.126): they immediately plan
an abduction, exactly as Digenis had reacted on encountering
Aploravdis's daughter. In this passage it is G which has the word nione
while E has the sense but not the word: E1151 the apelates wondered at
the 'cfS x6pi1q. At G8.82, as Digenis reflects on his past life with the
girl, he comments that the drakon had attempted to rape her when she
was mone. These attitudes and their results are fully in accord with the
legal discussions of where moral responsibility lies in the case of assaults
on lone females, as recently examined by Angeliki Laiou.8
There are two sets of phrases which are rather more complex. One
concerns Digenis's claims that he took the girl mone, for herself alone, and
not for her proika, her dowry. The claim is made twice in E (1008 and
1300) and once in G (8.77), in lines whose wording is very similar, though
the contexts are different. In E the claims are made in connection with the
abduction and the marriage arrangements; in G the claims are made
directly in the deathbed speech, referring to a refusal that had taken place
at the time of the marriage. In E the claim is that the dowry is renounced
in favour of the girl's brothers, in G that it is in favour of the girl's father.
Digenis, by initially refusing the dowry, opted out of full integration into
9
A. Laiou, 'Sex, consent and coercion in Byzantium', in A. Laiou, ed., Consent and
Coercion to Sex and Marriage in Ancient and Medieval Societies (Washington, DC, 1993), 109-
221.
his bride's kin group, and remained outside it.9 (The status of the gifts
subsequently offered and accepted is ambiguous.) This can be contrasted
with the situation of his father, the emir, in connection with whom no
dowries or marriage contracts are mentioned, who plainly accepted his
new family's demands and became fully integrated. If later in his dying
speech in G Digenis laments for his wife that she is move kai xene, then it is
through his actions that she has been brought to this condition. He has
refused integration into her family, thus creating a unit of two persons
which will become one on his death. E was seen earlier to be less explicit
than G in acknowledging the concept of a xenos as being outside a family
unit, and in the placing of Digenis's bride in this category; the statements
about the dowry seem, however, to show that E shares the view
expressed in G.
The other phrase concerns the girl's status as a monogenes, an only
child. This word is also used in connection with Digenis, as will be
discussed later. The two occurrences referring to the girl, in G only
(G4.601, 603), are used by her mother, as part of her outburst of grief at
the abduction. The word is used in a strained sense: the girl is in fact
merely her only daughter, for there are five brothers. But the status of
being an only child, a naturally emotive concept, is close enough to the
truth to be used as a justification for extra sympathy.
But when we turn to actions performed on her own, the girl gains no
commendation for them, in fact the reverse, as can be seen by the uses of
monaxia, which is found only in connection with her, in both G and E.
Whether used by Digenis to refer to her lack of an appropriate escort
when they first meet his family (G4.813, E1049) or by the girl herself of
herself in her final prayer (G8.172), monaxia is a condition to be pitied and
excused. We should note that we have no comments about Digenis's
mother, the female figure who is a parallel to the girl, being alone or on
her own; for, although she was abducted from her home by the raiding
emir in the absence of her father, her brothers immediately sprang into
action and to her defence, while her abductor was integrated into the
family unit by conversion and marriage. In the case of Digenis's bride, he,
the abductor, by rejecting the dowry, refused to be integrated completely,
thus leaving the girl without access to her male relatives.
9 For a discussion on the legal background to Digenis's marriage, see M. Angold, 'The
wedding of Digenes Akrites: love and marriage in Byzantium in the eleventh and twelfth
centuries', 71 xaBtutept vr/ can) azo (Athens, 1989), 201-215.
Next Maximou, who is quite unlike the female characters considered

so far, apart from the sinister element of cross-dres5ing which she shares
with Aploravdis's daughter. Maximou spans the genders, a female in a
male role. It is to this that is usually attributed her defeat and rape, and in
G her death. And this is surely correct. However, this is not apparent in
terms of the lexical combinations that are being discussed. The comments
that Maximou plans to go mone kai monache against Digenis (in both G
and E; G6.566, E1523) seem to be statements of fact. And in G's great set-
piece description as she stands in all her brilliance alone on the battle-
field: iSob µovil f1 Ma4tgob &pavrl £v tiw ic&gnq), there may even be a
positive force to the adjective. Up to this point the female seems to be
succeeding in the man's role. The folly of her actions becomes apparent
only later and only through deeds, not through lexical slanting. Thus
there is an ambiguity about Maximou - an admiration for her prowess
combined with a need to see that her non-conformity did not go
unpunished. This ambiguity must have been present in proto-Digenis.
So to the hero himself. It is around Digenis that most of the references
to being 'alone' and 'on one's own' cluster. We may categorize them in
two types: when he is completely on his own, and when he claims to be
on his own but is accompanied by the girl and some attendants, a
situation which at times strikes a modem reader as bizarre. The semantic
content of the phrases used of Digenis being nionos is positive, with only
one exception; at the outset of their elopement where in both G and E the
girl fears that Digenis's rashness will lead to his death and in E (869) the
fact that he is monachos is an element in her fear. One suspects that she
may be using a categorization more appropriate for a female.
Digenis is an unarmed and unsupported warrior. We first meet his
claim to be this when he has just caught sight of the girl and is planning
her abduction. In both G and E (G4.374, E793) this is emphatic and the
wording very similar: 'since I wish to travel completely on my own' (G),
'since I am alone and wish to journey on my own' (E). At this point there
is a further element in E to which we will return to in a moment. This is
Digenis's first independent action, and his preparation for it has been
made in the course of his hunting exploits, in the company of his father
and uncles, where he has pursued and slain bears and a deer with his
bare hands and a lion with his sword. If the girl is to be seen as the most
challenging prey available to him (as his comments to his mother indicate
and as David Ricks has surely been right to emphasize),10 then it is

entirely fitting that he should match this with an equally challenging
method of pursuit. Later, too, his lack of support is a matter of
amazement to all those he encounters, whether the Arab raiders in G5, or
the apelates, the drakon or Maximou in his later adventures. The clearest
statement comes in his defninitive clash with the apelates (G6.315-6,
E1323-4), where he is said in G to be 'unarmed, on foot and with only his
stick' and in E to be 'on his own, on foot and in boots, and in a simple
tunic'. There are 18 other occasions on which Digenis is said to be on his
own, and all have positive implications. He is a heroic figure, to be
admired and feared. He is to be contrasted with the other heroic warrior
of the poem, the emir, his father, who is supported constantly by his
troop of agouroi, young men. We should note that when in the deathbed
scene in E Digenis summons his pallikaria to make his final bequests and
give his advice, none of the actions that he attributes to their shared pasts
can be matched to the previous narrative, and these pallikaria play no part
in G's version of the scene; in G Digenis addresses only the girl. It is
arguable that here E has departed quite radically from the proto-Digenis.
The most striking example of Digenis claiming to be on his own, yet
being in the company of the girl, has been mentioned before. It comes
when the narrative of his exploits has concluded and in both G (4.956,
5.22) and E (1096) he and the girl set off on their life together on their
own. In E it is simply stated that they live in a house, but in G we are told
about the tent in which they live their solitary lives, while there are other
tents at a discreet distance in which their attendants are housed. All is
done with due domestic decorum. The point is presumably that there
were no other military forces, no squadron under his command. The
agouroi are never shown playing a military role, until the deathbed speech
in E:" they are a small group of retainers quite inadequate for the lofty
status of their lord. Nevertheless, the only occasions in the poem when
we see Digenis as a truly solitary roaming warrior are when he sets off to
hunt the girl and when he is ranging around the desert and encounters
the daughter of Aploravdis.
The reason that Digenis gives for wanting to take up this solitary
existence is intriguing. He is monogenes, an only child. This is the extra
element referred to just now which in E first appears when he sets off to
10 E809; D. Ricks, 'The pleasures of the chase: a motif in Digenes Akrites', BMGS 13
(1989), 290-295.
" The discrepancies in this speech are discussed in E.M. Jeffreys, 'Digenis and Charos'.
hunt the girl but which occurs subsequently in both G and E. In Book 6 of
G we find his claim, 'I do not wish to rule but to live alone, since I am the
only child born to my parents' (6.298-9); and at the equivalent point in E
'But I am an only child and wish to make my way alone' (1299). By such
statements he seems to justify his decision to live on the frontiers (cf.
G4.958), though the logic behind this decision is not clear to me. In E at
times the preference for solitude is explicitly linked to Digenis's refusal of
the girl's dowry: 'I want to live alone and I took the girl on her own and I
want nothing else' (1300). While this might be due to E's habit of aural
association (that is, the use of monos has triggered other parts of the
poem's thought- and word-pool that use monos), Digenis's refusal of the
dowry is, as pointed out earlier, a major element in both G and E, and so
of proto-Digenis. E's assertion should not be dismissed too quickly. It is a
re-statement of Digenis's wish to have no links and obligations. The
ultimate statement of this wish to be alone comes in G's scene of the
emperor's visit where Digenis monotatos, that is, absolutely on his own
(4.1012), approaches the emperor, makes deep obeisance and lectures him
on the correct performance of imperial duties.
The concept of Digenis as a lone figure, an outsider, with no access to
social units, is thus deeply embedded in proto-Digenis. The term xenos is
not applied to him, though his actions are such that he puts himself into
positions where he could be classed as xenos by the social groups with
whom he interacts, much as he finds himself referring to his wife as xene.
Perhaps xenos is an adjective which can have no positive meaning apart
from that involved with the concept 'guest'.
'Outsider' implies the existence of groups from which the outsiders
are perceived to be exterior or extraneous. The discussion so far is
predicated on these groups being family units. But xenos in Modern
Greek refers to a division between 'us' and 'them', between dikoi mas and
xenoi, which begins from the family unit but which may be transposed
upwards at a lower level of intensity to cover other levels - for example,
the village, the district, the modem nation state.12 May we see examples in
the poem of these other applications?
There is, first, the Christian East Roman frontier society as a whole,
represented by the family units of the conglomerate households of the
two generals (Digenis's maternal grandfather and his father-in-law),
12 These divisions are implicit, for example, in the argument of P.S. Cassia and C.
Bada, The Making of the Modern Greek Family (Cambridge, 1992), or M. Herzfeld, 'Within
and Without: the category of "female" in the ethnography of Modem Greece', in J. Dubisch,
ed., Gender and Power in Rural Greece (Princeton, 1986), 215-233.
made up of parents, offspring, kinsmen, retainers - several generations

within the one community. Exterior to this society can be seen three
elements - the apelates, mostly Christian presumably and with elements of
a cohesive social group, but neither functioning as a regular kin group
nor centred round particular buildings, despite Philopappous's
patriarchal role; the Arab communities, represented by the emir, his
mother and his family in Syria, and by Aploravdis's daughter; and the
emperor from Constantinople, who in G only appears abruptly from
some totally exterior area. It is perhaps more likely than not that he is an
insertion, not part of proto-Digenis.
Secondly, these sub-elements also have their own boundaries and
loyalties, and operate their own sets of inclusions and exclusions. Thus, as
we have seen, the family unit of Digenis's mother transforms the xenos,
the emir, by baptism and marriage, to the extent that he feels xeniteia
when he is forced temporarily to leave it. The family unit of Digenis's
bride seeks to bring Digenis within its boundaries, but fails when he (at
least initially) refuses the dowry. He sets up an establishment that is,
again at least initially, free from ties with the previous generation, though
he later brings in his father's tomb and his mother (certainly in G, and by
implication in E). Maximou, part of the apelates group, is an interesting
case. She is within the group, by virtue of kinship; but from the authorial
perspective she is an outsider, and doubly so - the group is not the norm
and neither is her role as a cross-dressing female warrior, which leads to
her fate (which is not good 'in E and worse in G).
I end with the figure of Digenis himself. He made himself an outsider
first by rejecting normal methods of combat and adopting idiosyncratic
weapons and garments and then by rejecting the normal methods of
setting up a household unit. Yet with the passage of time he is beginning
to re-integrate himself - his palace has space for his kinsmen; he took in
his mother in her widowhood; he buried his father.
As Catia Galatariotou has pointed out on several occasions,13 the
Digenis text, especially the Grottaferrata version, is constructed out of a
series of oppositions: Christian/Muslim; palace/tent; enclosed
space/open space. When looking at the way in which outsiders function,
in the sense of those who place themselves or are placed outside the
accepted norms, then the male/female opposition becomes crucial. The
C. Galatariotou, 'Structural oppositions in the Grottaferrata Digenes Akrites', BMGS

13
11 (1987), 29-68; C. Galatariotou, 'Open space/closed space: the perceived worlds of

Kekaumenos and Digenes Akrites', in M. Mullett and D. Smythe, eds, Alexios I Komnenos. L
Papers (Belfast, 1996), 303-328.
isolation or independence which in a male may be interpreted heroically,

in a female is automatically unacceptable to the mores dominant in the
poem. These are attitudes which are in accordance with late Roman legal
practice where females have very little independent status." Hence we
find both Digenis's bride as xene and the fate accorded to Maximou.
The concept of standing outside the regular norms will have been
fundamental to proto-Digenis. Proto-Digenis would have been a poem set
in the Euphrates frontier region, written from the perspective of the
frontiers themselves, from outside the cultural centre. The environment
that it presents is that of the Byzantine ruling adminsitrative elite of that
area, with their estates, retinues and their decorated houses. Urban
centres are referred to largely as points on a raiding itinerary. Digenis
visits an urban centre only when he deposits Aploravdis's daughter in
Chalkourgia. From the point of view of Constantinoplitan culture, the
poem is a graphic representation of an aristocratic outsider's world.
Part of the poem is expressed in the first person, and must have been
so in proto-Digenis. In G the interlocutor is a Cappodocian, which is
entirely of a piece with the authorial focus of the rest of the poem. Out of
this Roderick Beaton has recently tried to argue for a context for the
poem's composition, different from the one put forward here: he is
certainly right to highlight the alien elements in the poem's structure. 15
Given the extent to which Digenis stands outside so many Byzantine
cultural and literary norms, we should certainly ask how he ever came to
be inside, how his poem survived. What need of the establishment did
the text supply? I tend to return to a point I have made before - that
Digenis was used by an imperial propaganda machine which itself was
trying to show its attachment to the Euphrates frontier, and was willing
to portray the emperor Manuel himself as a strangely dressed outsider.16
The moment could have been when, in 1151-1152, Manuel returned
Byzantine arms to the heartland of the epic by purchasing the County of
Edessa from the widow of its last count in a last, brief and futile gesture
" A. Laiou, 'The role of women in Byzantine society', JOB 31.1 (1981), 233-260; J.
Beaucamp, 'La situation juridique de la femme a Byzance', Cahiers de civilisation medievale
20 (1977), 145-176.
15 R. Beaton, 'Cappadocians at court: Digenes and Timarion', in M. Mullett and D.
Smythe, eds, Alexios I Komnenos, 329-338.
'fi As in the Ptochoprodromic poems where Manuel is referred to as 'Akritis' in
language reminiscent of Digenis Akritis. Compare with Ptochoprodomos, 4.190-1; H.
Eideneier, ed., Ptochoprodromos: Einfiihrung, kritische Ausgabe, deutsche Ubersetzung, Glossar
(Cologne, 1991).
of defiance against the forces of the Arabs of Aleppo and the Seljuks of
Ikonion.
15. Defining the Foreign in Kekaumenos
Charlotte Roueche
The purpose of this paper is to consider the extent to which 'foreignness'

is an issue in the text which we call 'Kekaumenos' or 'The Strategikon of
Kekaumenos'. The nature of this text is such that it is often called in aid to
support arguments about 'Byzantine attitudes'; but it win be helpful to
consider the specific characteristics of the text itself.
The Consilia et Narrationes
The text under consideration survives in only one manuscript, Moscow

Synodalis 298 (Vlad. 436) ff. 136vo-229ro, probably copied in or near
Trebizond in the fourteenth century; it was first published in 1881.' When
it was copied it was already in a fragmentary state, and the name of the
author had been lost. He does, however, mention his father, called
Kekaumenos, (72.22) which is also the name of a grandfather (65.11), so
that it is not extravagant to assign this name to the author as well. While
the text that we have contains a variety of material, it all appears to come
from the same author. The bulk of the work is made up of moral and
practical advice, on the conduct of public and private life, supported by
anecdotes. Many of these are drawn from recent or contemporary affairs;
recent editors, therefore, have rejected the title of the work used by the
I V. Vasiljevskij, 'Sovety i rasskazy vizantijskoo bojarina XIv', Min. Nar. Pros. 215
(1881), 242-299, 216 (1881), 102-171, 316-357; the full text published as Cecaumeni
Strategicon, ed. B. Wassiliewsky and P. Jernstedt (St Petersburg, 1896). The most recent full
edition by G.G. Litavrin, Cecaumeni Consilia et Narrationes (Moscow, 1972) is used as the
basis of the recent edition with Modem Greek translation, by D. Tsougarakis, Keicavpevos,
-rprav7Ycx6v (Athens, 1993). The most important commentary is the study by P. Lemerle,
Prolegomenes a une edition critique et commentee des Conseils et Recits de Kekaumenos (Brussels,
1960); there is also a German translation by H.G. Beck, Vademecum des byzantinischen
Aristokraten (Graz, 1964). References here are to the pagination of the 1896 edition, which is
still the mostly widely available.
203
204 CHARLOTTE ROUECH$
scribe, Strategikon, in favour of Consilia et Narrationes, 'Advice and

Anecdotes'.
The work itself appears to have been written during the reign of
Michael VII Doukas (73.18, 73.25), and after the death of the patriarch
John Xiphilinos in August 1075 (72.13); the bulk of the stories date from
the period 1034-1054.2 The only mention of events later than 1054 is in the
story of Nikoulitzas Delphinas (66.19-73.26). Much of the scholarly
attention paid to this text has come from historians, concerned to learn
from such narratives.
The family of the author
A great deal of effort has also been applied to trying to determine the
possible identity of the author - a subject which has developed a large
bibliography.3 This task is made more difficult because the author refers
surprisingly seldom to his own career. He does, however, recount several
anecdotes involving members of his family, or connections by marriage.
Before examining these in detail, there is one general point to be made.
One story, which is disproportionately long and not particularly apposite,
is about the author's cousin, Nikoulitzas Delphinas, who became
unwillingly involved in an uprising against the emperor in Northern
Greece in 1067 (66.19-73.26). The account seems to be based on a first-
person narrative by Delphinas. Our author seems to have included it
partly because he had it already to hand, but perhaps also because the
story was clearly told to explain and justify Delphinas's conduct. It may
well be that a desire to show the conduct of various members of his
family in the best light, in what were, in some cases, rather ambiguous
circumstances, underlies the inclusion of some of the other anecdotes
about the author's relations - particularly those at 26.21f., 29.2f, 65.11f,
and 96.5f. Perhaps for the third,, and certainly for the fourth of these he
used documents from the family archives; but it seems likely that some
other criterion, beyond the availability of such documents, must have
operated in the selection of these particular stories, each of which
presents, in favourable terms, actions by his relations which could well be
interpreted otherwise. In view of the neatness with which the justification
2
Analysed by Lemerle, Prolegomenes, 56-77.
For recent work on this topic, see A.G.C. Savvides, 'The Byzantine Family of
3
Kekaumenos', Diptuxa 4 (1986), 12-27, and A.G.C. Savvides, 'The Armeno-Byzantine

Family of Cecaumenus: addenda et corrigenda', Journal of Oriental and African Studies 2
(1990), 224-226, with very full bibliographies.
DEFINING THE FOREIGN IN KEKAUMENOS 205
for telling, the Nikoulitzas story is inserted (66.12-18), we should not

underestimate the subtlety of our author, or his ability to use his subject
matter for his own ends.
It is also important to bear in mind that the casual way in which our
author introduces references to members of his family (in particular, the
references to Nikoulitzas at 65.10, 66.10 and 71.18) apparently suggests
that he assumes his reader to be already aware of the relationships
involved. This is perhaps of especial importance in considering the most
difficult of the genealogical problems presented by our text, which is that,
in the four passages mentioned above, the relatives whom the author
describes are referred to as ic&mcoi, of whom at least three are definitely
separate individuals. The references are:
A. 6 iov To(3iou 'cost&pxris xai 7t&nos µou (undated; 26.21f.)

B. 6 icp6; p.rycp6g t&ncnos µou Ojufrcptos 6 HoAsµ&pxio; (fl. between
976 and 1018; 29.2f.)
C. 6 µaxapi'crlS µou t&7citoq o KExaupEvos (circa 980; 65.11f)
D. 6 t61t7to; µou 6 (fl. 959-963, 980; 96.5f).
This situation raises several questions. The most basic one is, how should
we interpret the word pappos? Kekaumenos uses the term in its normal
sense of 'grandfather' on one occasion, where he uses and juxtaposes the
two terms t&iticou and icpon61titou (95.26). There have been attempts to
combine some of these individuals, to reduce them to two; but none of
these are satisfactory, and it seems far easier to accept that pappos cannot
mean 'grandfather' in each of these examples. In all four cases, the pappos
is introduced simply as protagonist in a story that illustrates a point
which Kekaumenos is trying to make. What is remarkable is that, of those
four characters, two are presented in anecdotes where they are fighting
against the Byzantines - and winning. Their ingenuity and their success
(in each case they win by a ruse) is far more interesting and important
than what side they are on.
The first alien pappos was a commander on the Eastern border, against
the Byzantines. His story is told in the context of advice to a frontier
commander to be suspicious:
Frontier-commander, guard your fortresses and the land entrusted

to you, and don't trust the toparchs near you, even if they profess
vehemently that they are your friends. Let me tell you a story of
this sort.
There is a fortress in the region of Greater Armenia; it is in a high

place, with, above it, a good-sized plateau, sufficient, even
abundant, for the people who live in the fortress as arable land and
as pasture for their livestock, and for all their needs; it is made
secure on every side by cliffs and ravines, and does not admit of
being attacked by anyone from any side. For it's not even possible
for anyone to get up there unless by one narrow road, and then to
enter first through the gate of the fortress - and that with
considerable difficulty. So there was nothing safer than this strong-
hold. The toparch of Tobion, who was also my grandfather, was
longing to get possession of it. So what does he think up? By many
gifts he makes a friend of the general in command of this fortress,
having declared to him that, whatever he needed, he should boldly
send and get from him. So the general was enchanted by all this; he
happened to come in need of corn, and then informed the toparch,
who said, cheerfully: 'As much as you demand'. He sends him a
thousand animals carrying corn; a man followed each pair of
donkeys, as if indeed to take care of them. The general reckoned:
'If my fortress is victualled by the very enemy of Romania, what do
I deserve?' Then, when the corn arrives, he cheerfully opens the
gates for the animals and the men attending them to come in. But
the men were armed for fighting, and had their swords, hidden. As
soon as they came in they wrenched open the gates; they kill the
spearmen and take possession of the fortress. And so a friendship
becomes a cause of misfortune, and deserves to be remembered. So
you should protect yourself from your friends more than from
your enemies. If the general had not trusted those he thought were
his friends but had ordered them to unload the corn outside the
gate, he would have benefited from them, and their cunning would
have come to nothing, and the general would have had no worries.
(26-27)
There is no attempt to name the fortress held by the Roman commander,

and the pappos is not named; but the name of his command is given.
Although the manuscript tradition is difficult, it appears to be a reference
to Dvin. Of the four pappoi, this unnamed man is a good candidate for
being a propappos, and so active in the mid-tenth century. Between 927
and 966, Dvin was ruled by a series of commanders, of whom we know
very little.' These could with equal probability have been Arabs, Kurds,
The account by V. Minorsky, Studies in Caucasian History (London, 1953), especially

'Vicissitudes of Dvin', 116-124, was further developed by A. Ter-Ghevondian, 'Chronologie
de la ville de Dvin (Duin) aux 9` et 11` siecles', JEA NS 2 (1965), 303-318. For a summary see
or Armenians; Dvin was a very mongrel city, with large Christian and
Muslim populations.' Kekaumenos's ancestor could well have been an
independent commander who held Dvin during this period, and later
fled to the Byzantines' similarly, when the Arab adventurer Muhammed
b. Shadded was driven out of Dvin by another Arab commander in 953,
his first move was to appeal to Byzantium for help.' This pappos,
therefore, could have come from a wide range of different backgrounds.
Kekaumenos sees no need to enlighten us, or to present him as anything
other than an. enterprising soldier.
The same is true of pappos II, further defined as being the author's
maternal pappos, who was active in northern Greece. He is actually given
a name - Demetrios Polemarchios; that name is itself so grandiose, that it
is tempting to see Polemarchios as a translation of some foreign term. He
is not presented as belonging to any particular ethnic group - he is
merely a prominent man in the area, clearly fighting for Samuel of
Bulgaria - but Kekaumenos does take pains to tell us that after the war he
was rewarded by the Byzantine emperor. This very mention does suggest
a little embarrassment - but not enough to make Kekaumenos omit the
story.
Serbia is a strong city in Bulgaria. A Roman general was guarding

it, named Magerinos, and two taxiarchs with their thousands. My
pappos, on my mother's side, called Demetrios Polemarchios, was a
prominent chief in that area near the frontier; after the pacification
of Bulgaria the Emperor, Basil the Porphyrogennetos, of blessed
memory, raised him to the rank of patrician, having also made him
a mystikos. So this man, after labouring indefatigably for a whole
year in order to take this invincible city, wasn't able to capture it;
so that all that labour was in vain. For [the fortress] obtained its
security from cliffs and terrifying ravines. Below the fortress,
under the cliff, was the bathing-place, and there the general used to
go, and the taxiarchs, when they wanted to, and bathed. So he
devises this device: he went by night, and took up position
opposite the fortress, with his men - the place was wooded, with
bushes - and ordered the men with him to take large bushes and
hold them in front of them, and overshadow and hide the horses
G. Dedeyan, 'Les Arabes au Caucase', in II Caucaso: cerniera fra culture dal Mediterraneo alla
Persia, Settimane 43 (Spoleto, 1996), I,169-192,175.
5 Minorsky, Studies, 8,121,135; Ter-Ghevondian,'Chronologie', 313.
6 Minorsky, Studies, 119-120.
7
Minorsky, Studies ,11-12.
and their riders, so as to look not like men, but like some wood
growing on the spot. He had two chonsarii (scouts) near the fortress
on the ridge, who, directly the general and the taxiarchs went
down and began to wash, made a signal which they had been
ordered to make. The others spurred down and surrounded the
bathing-place, and captured the people in it. For the man who
doesn't take care, but walks unguardedly, often falls, even into
misfortunes. So when they had been captured he took the fortress
without bloodshed. So take care over these things. (28-29)
This background to our author has left the field open to the historians. Of
the other two pappoi, one bears the name Kekaumenos, and is found
commanding Larissa in the reign of Basil II: he may well be a real
grandfather. The name Kekaumenos is found in the East, and the famous
general, Katakalon Kekaumenos, came from Koloneia, in the Armeniac
theme. It seems clear that Kekaumenos could be used as a soubriquet for
persons with darker skin; an eleventh-century text recycles an earlier
phrase to describe a man from Armenia as 'burned black' 8taxexavg&ov
Eis do jeX< vtiatov.8 It may be, therefore, that not all Kekaumenoi were
related to one another. An attempt to identify our author's Kekaumenos
pappos in an inscription found in Armenia, first put forward by
Vasilievskji and developed by Paul Lemerle, has been eliminated by the
work of N. Oikonomides.9 The dynamic energy of Armenian
historiography, however, means that the Kekaumenoi have been
appropriated as Armenian fairly consistentlyl° Kazhdan and Epstein
describe our author as of 'hellenized Armenian stock'." But, on the other
side of the family, Demetrios Polemarchios, who has a name for which I
8P. Gautier ed., 'Le de daemonibus de pseudo-Psellos', REB (1980), 133-177, 1.443; the
phrase is borrowed from Lucian, Hercules 6.1.
' N. Oikonomides, 'L'organisation de la frontiere orientale de Byzance aux X`-Xl`
siecles et le taktikon de 1'Escorial', Actes du XIV Congr. Int. des Et. Byz. (Bucarest, 1974),
285-302, reprinted in N. Oikonomides, Documents et etudes sur les institutions de Byzance
(London, 1976), XXIV, 291 and n. 35.
10 See C. Toumanoff, Studies in Christian Caucasian History (Washington, 1963), 224-
225; A. Kazhdan, Armjane v sostave gospodstvuscego klassa Vizantijskoj imperii v XI-Xii vv
(Armenians in the ruling class of the Byzantine empire in the Xlth-XIIth centuries), (Yerevan,
1975; reviewed by W. Seibt, BS 38 (1977), 50-51); the discussion is summarized in A.
Kazhdan, 'The Armenians in the Byzantine ruling class, predominantly in the ninth
through twelfth centuries', T. Samuelian and M. Stone, Mediaeval Armenian Culture
(University of Pensylvania, 1984), 439-451.
" A. Kazhdan and A. Epstein, Change in Byzantine Culture in the Eleventh and Twelfth
Centuries (Berkeley, 1985), 180.
can find no parallel, clearly functioned in the northern part of the Greek
peninsula. The fourth pappos, Nikoulitzas, bears a name also associated
with northern Greece; he had held office in Hellas 'for life', for some time
under Basil II, and so might well be of an earlier generation. His name is
less widely attested than Kekaumenos, and only in the western part of the
empire. A Nikoulitzes is known as chartularios and ek prosopou of the
imperial stables, from a seal dated tenth-eleventh century.12 A Nikolitzas
is attested as a landowner of Kephallenia before 1264,t3 and another as a
landowner near Ohrid at the end of the fourteenth century.14 The name
Nikolotzopoulos is found at Mistra in the fourteenth century.15 Litavrin,
quite reasonably, sees our Kekaumenos as coming from northern Greece;
but there is no modem historiographical tradition that needs to assert this
point of view.
What is perhaps most striking, however, is that the text should be
capable of such varied interpretation. Even if the stories, as has been
suggested, may have been included to show his family members in the
most favourable light, it is still remarkable that Kekaumenos does not
pass over his 'foreign' relations in silence.
Kekaumenos on foreigners'
Kekaumenos was apparently unconcerned to present himself - or his

ancestors - in terms of their 'ethnicity'. He seems to see himself as 'a
Roman', and to see Romanness as something that was not jeopardized by
having foreign forebears. But, although Kekaumenos may be
unembarrassed by his ancestry there are two passages where he is
famously critical of foreigners. The first is the passage in the Advice to an
Emperor recommending against over-promotion of foreign officers.
Don't promote foreigners, who are not of royal birth in their own
land, to great honours, nor entrust great offices to them; for you
will certainly injure yourself by doing so, as well as the Romans
who are your officials. For whenever you honour the foreigner of
the vulgar class, who arrives, as prin ikerios, or general, what
worthy command do you have to give to the Roman? Certainly
you will make him an enemy. But, also, in this man's country,
12
V. Laurent, Corpus des sceaux de 1'empire byzantin II (Paris, 1981), 929.
13
E. Trapp, Prosopographisches Lexikon der Palaiologenzeit (Vienna, 1976-), 20581.
14
Trapp,20580
15
Trapp, 20582, for Joannes, a paroikos at Mistra in 1366.
210 CHARLOTTE ROUECHE
when they hear that he has reached such an honour and office,
they will all laugh, and say: 'We considered him here worth
nothing, but, going off to Rome, he has met with such honour. As it
seems, in Romania there is not a competent man, and, for this
reason, our man has been exalted; if the Romans were efficient,
they would not have promoted this man to such a great height'.
Don't let your Majesty say: 'I benefited him for this reason: so that
others would see and come as well'. For this is not a good aim; if
you wish, I will bring you as many foreigners as you wish, for a bit
of bread, and clothing. It is greatly to the advantage of the Romans,
master, not to bestow great honours on foreigners; for, if they serve
for clothing, and bread, be assured, they will serve you faithfully
and wholeheartedly, looking to your hands to receive trifling coins,
and bread. But, if you honour a foreigner beyond the rank of
spatharokandidate, from then on he becomes contemptuous, and will
not serve you correctly. Ask and learn, master, how they came in
many times of trouble to the previous Emperors, to the lord Basil,
the porphyrogennetos, to his father, his grandfather and his great-
grandfather, and those further back. And why do I speak of
ancient [emperors]? Not even the lord Romanos Argyropoulos, nor
even any of those emperors, of blessed memory, promoted a Frank
or a Varangian to the honour of patrician, but [none of them] was
even prepared to make any of them a consul or a stratiotophylax,
and scarcely [to make] any of them a spatharios. All these served for
bread and clothing, but the Romans took the great honours and the
jobs, and Romania was in a state of prosperity. (95-96)
This is also one of the better-known passages in the work; but it is

interestingly different from other contemporary passages on foreigners.
Kekaumenos is not attacking foreigners in terms of their characteristics;
he is apparently proud to have served with Harald Hardrada. He makes
instead a specific point about the professional interests of Roman soldiers.
His comments focus on the implications for the pay and conditions of
Roman soldiers, rather than suggesting anything unsatisfactory about the
foreigners - except that they are not the emperor's own subjects. This is a
definition by allegiance, not by race. There is also an odd inconsistency
here: what about the ranks given to Demetrios Polemarchios? All this
suggests that Kekaumenos is able to define foreigners as it suits him,
without any very strong sense of a fixed and immutable boundary.
The best passage for illustrating xenophobia in Kekaumenos is his
description of the Vlachs. This passage has less context than the others; it
is appended to the story of Nikoulitzas Delphinas and is an unremittingly

hostile account of the Vlachs:
I give you, and your offspring, this advice. Since the race of the
Vlachs is entirely untrustworthy, and corrupt, and keeps true faith
neither with God nor with the Emperor, nor with a relative or a
friend, but endeavours to do down everyone, tells many lies and
steals a great deal, swearing every day the most solemn oaths to its
friends, and violating them easily, performing adoptions of
brothers and baptismal alliances, and scheming by these means to
deceive simpler people, it has never yet kept faith with anyone, not
even with the earlier emperors of the Romans. After being fought
by the emperor Trajan, and entirely wiped out, they were
captured, and their king, the so-called Dekabalos, was killed and
his head was fastened on a spear in the middle of the city of the
Romans. They lived formerly near to the Danube river, and the
Saos, the river which we now call the Sava, where Serbs live now,
in secure and inaccessible places. Being confident in these [places],
they pretended friendship and service to the earlier emperors of
the Romans, and used to go out of their strongholds and plunder
the lands of the Romans; as a result they were angered with them,
and, as has been said, destroyed them. They left those parts, and
were scattered throughout all Epiros and Macedonia, but most of
them inhabited Hellas. They are very cowardly, with the hearts of
hares, but with bravado - and even this comes from cowardice. So
I advise you not to trust these people at all. And, if a revolt ever
takes place, and they pretend friendship and trust, swearing by
God to keep it, don't trust them. It is better for you not to make
them swear at all, nor to give them an oath, but to watch them, as
evil men, rather than swearing or receiving an oath. So you mustn't
trust them at all; only, pretend yourself to be their friend. But, even
if, sometime, an uprising takes place in Bulgaria, as has been said
before, even if they profess to be your friends, or even swear, don't
trust them. But, even if they bring their women and their children
into the fortress belonging to Romania, encourage them to bring
them, only let them be inside the citadel; let [the men] be outside. If
they wish to go in to their households, let two or three go in; when
they come out, you let others in turn come in. Pay great attention to
the walls and to the gates. If you do so, you will be in safety. But, if
you allow many to go in to their households, the fortress will be
betrayed by them, and you will be bitten by them as if by an asp,
and then you will remember my advice. But, if you observe this,
212 CHARLOTTE ROUECHE
you will have them as your subjects, and will also have freedom
from worries. (74-75)
The narrative has had a lively history; it is the earliest significant mention
of the Vlachs, whose history, from the late nineteenth century onwards,
has been debated, according to Robert Lee Wolff, 'between chauvinist
Bulgarian and Romanian scholars': the former downplay the role of the
Vlachs; the latter 'are eager to show ... above all, that it was the Vlach
portion of the population who led the revolt of 1186 and brought new
glory and independence under a Vlach dynasty to the submerged and
apathetic Bulgarians. ... In the Balkans mediaeval data accumulated by
scholars are often regarded as providing strong arguments for the settling
of present day controversies.' 16
But, in order to understand this passage, it is necessary to remember
that Kekaumenos was trained in the basics of rhetoric, and had studied at
least the early stages of the progymnasmata.'7 It seems very likely that the
description of the Vlachs is modelled on a psogos, 'invective' (exercise
number 7); the first headings - origin, development, activities - are all
covered, although there is no comparison. It is the historical references -
which are what have really excited the modem historians - which most
strongly suggest a rhetorical construct; they draw on Dio Cassius, whose
work we know to have been in circulation in Constantinople in the
second half of the eleventh century.18 That is not, of course, to say that
Kekaumenos really liked Vlachs, and that rhetoric should be equated
with falsity. But it does mean that the function of this passage may have
more to do with his trying out a rhetorical technique, and applying it to a
particular group of people; it does not reflect an overall attitude to 'the
foreign'.
" R.L. Wolff, 'The "Second Bulgarian Empire". Its origin and history to 1204',
Speculum 24 (1949), 167-206, 174-175; see also T.J. Winnifrith, The Vlaclhs. A History of a
Balkan People (London, 1987), 39-56.
17 On the progymnasmata see G.A. Kennedy, A New History of Classical Rhetoric
(Princeton, 1994), 202-208 (very general); R.F. Hock, 'General Introduction' in R.F. Hock
and E.N. O'Neil, The Chreia in Ancient Rhetoric (Atlanta, 1986), 3-60; and, for Byzantium, H.
Hunger, Die Hochsprachliche profane Literatur der Byzantiner I (Munich, 1978), 92-120.
'a So M. Gy6ni, 'L'oeuvre de Kekaumenos, source d'histoire roumaine', Revue
d'Histoire corn park 23 (1945), 96-180, 129-167. The most recent discussion is N. Djuvara,
'Sur un passage controverse de Kekaumenos', Revue Roumaine d'Histoire 30 (1991) 23-66.
Kekaumenos and 'the foreign'
Perhaps this very passage can help us to understand this author's attitude
to 'the foreign', which enables him to pour invective on the Vlachs, and
yet acknowledge ancestors who were enemies of Romania. Kekaumenos's
work is grounded in a particular set of educational values; it is written
according to rhetorical guidelines, to be read by people from a similar
background. This is a work of advice - a work about conduct. It is deeply
rooted in a very old tradition, and above all by the norms of the
Hellenized East of the Hellenistic period - the world of his two most
influential sources, the Wisdom of Sirach and Pseudo-Isocrates. Since the
expansion of Hellenism under Alexander, the cultures of the eastern end
of the Mediterranean had been seeking and building a common code of
conduct, and a shared culture. That shared culture can be found, for
example, in the Aesopic tradition, or in the Eastern texts translated into
Greek precisely in the eleventh century - the Syntipas and the Stephanites
and Ichnelates (both transcribed in the same manuscript as the text of
Kekaumenos). Those texts transferred very easily into the thought-world
of Byzantium. It is this ancient cultural tradition, shared by people both
sides of the frontier, that made it easy to move from one allegiance to
another. Such admonitory texts passed swiftly into Slavonic languages, to
facilitate the same process at the other end of the empire; this was the
basis for the manual of advice that Photios sent to Michael of Bulgaria.'9 It
was entirely well suited to assimilating men to a shared set of values,
compatible with, but not based on, Christianity; Photios, in his letter to
Michael, had to add on a specifically Christian section. This literary
tradition parallels the visual tradition of an achievable culture that
Byzantium exported so effectively to its neighbours over the same period
- a process dazzlingly documented in the Glory of Byzantium exhibition at
the Metropolitan Museum in 1997.20 There, too, it could be seen that
apparent immutability and the confident reassertion of an established
taxis are necessary constituents of a cultural package to which outsiders
can aspire.
Peter Charanis, writing on 'The formation of the Greek People',
quoted Isocrates in the Panegyricus: 'the title Hellenes is applied rather to
" Photius, Epistulae et amphilochia, ed. B. Laourdas and L.G. Westerink (1983) Ep.1.
Z° Helen C. Evans, ed., The Glom of Byzantium: Art and Culture of the Middle Byzantine
Era, AD 843-1261, Catalog (New York, 1997); see the review by Peter Brown, New York
Review of Books (July 29,1997),19-24.
those who share our culture than to those who share a common blood'.2'
Over many centuries, manuals of education and admonition - including
one appropriately attributed to Isocrates - made 'Hellenism' or Romanitas
a condition which could be acquired; a cultural identity with no
connection to ethnicity. It is this attitude which makes Byzantine texts so
unhelpful to those modem politician-scholars who have tried to mine
them for support for fictitious modem identities for the pernicious - and
now, we hope, moribund - construct of the nation-state.
21 Sp. Vryonis ed., The Past in Mediaeval and Modem Greek Culture (Malibu, 1978), 87-
101, 88; for a discussion of Kekaumenos on the Vlachs cf. 95-96.
u
On this see the important observations of Glen Bowersock, Hellenism in Late
Antiquity (Ann Arbor, 1990).
16. Procopius the Outsider?
Geoffrey Greatrex
Two ways in which the historian Procopius of Caesarea might be viewed as

an 'outsider' will be examined here. On the one hand, the composition of
three so different works as the Wars, Buildings and Anecdota, marks
Procopius off from all other writers of antiquity or Byzantium; for while
others tried their hand at both history and panegyric - the example of John
the Lydian is perhaps the most obvious - no other author is known to have
produced anything comparable to the Anecdota.' On the other hand, there is
Procopius's position in the sixth century: was he a lone critic. vainly fighting
the currents prevailing in Justinian's reign? It will be argued that although
Procopius was not alone in his criticisms of the imperial regime, it is very
doubtful whether he should be associated with any senatorial group; it will
further be suggested that the notion of a particular genre of criticism,
Kaiserkritik, is of little help in considering this issue.
The Anecdota has long perplexed scholars. For the proponents of
Kaiserkritik, it represents a blueprint for the type of criticisms which could
be levelled at an emperor - the fullest instance of the genre we have
available? The range of criticisms of the imperial couple and their associates
This paper is dedicated to Katherine Adshead on the occasion of her retirement from
the University of Canterbury, Christchurch.
' On John the Lydian, see M. Maas, John Lydus and the Roman Past (London, 1992), 9. The
title Anecdota is a modem one, cf. J. Haury and G. Wirth, Procopii Caesariensis Opera Omnia, III
(Leipzig, 1963), xxv. The suggestion of M. Angold, 'Procopius' portrait of Theodora' in
Philellen. Studies in honour of Robert Browning (Venice, 1996), 22, that the genre of Anecdota was
invented by Theopompus of Chios can therefore hardly be accepted. Although Theopompus's
critical style bears similarities to Procopius's, there was nothing unpublished or secret about
his Philippica, which were published after the death of both Philip and Alexander. Cf. M.A.
Flower, Theopompus of Chios (Oxford, 1994), 36.
2 B. Rubin, 'Zur Kaiserkritik Ostroms' in Atti dello VIII congresso internazionale di studi
bizantini, I (Rome, 1953), 453 = idem, Das Zeitalter Iustinians I (Berlin, 1960), 235; cf. F.
Tinnefeld, Kategorien der Kaiserkritik in der byzantinischen Historiographie von Prokop his Niketas
Choniates (Munich, 1971), 29. See also A. Cameron, Procopius and the Sixth Century (London,
215
216 GEOFFREY GREATREX
is wide and set out in (apparently) no particular order; there is some

repetition and a promise of a treatment of religious affairs is left unfulfilled.
It is therefore possible, as has been suggested, that the work was not
completed and that the Anecdota was assembled in the form in which it has
survived at a later point 3 Two points concerning the work will be examined
here: first, its unpublished (or secret) nature, and second, the type of
criticisms it offers.
In his preface to the Wars, Procopius stated that he had 'not concealed
the failures (ta mokhthera) of even his most intimate acquaintances, but [had]
written down with complete accuracy everything which befell those
concerned, whether it happened to be done well or ill by them'. With this
assertion may be compared his words at Anecdota 1.10, 'I shall proceed to
relate, first, all the base deeds (td mokhthera) committed by Belisarius; and
afterwards I shall disclose all the base deeds (ta mokhthera) committed by
Justinian and Theodora'. Despite the inconsistency of Dewing's
translations, the Anecdota clearly represents the fulfilment of Procopius's
brief as set out in the Wars. The close relationship between the Wars and
Anecdota (especially chapters 1-5) has never been in doubt, and it is most
likely that Procopius was at work on both throughout the 540s.4 It is less
clear, however, whether Procopius, as he wrote up his account of
Belisarius's campaigns during the 540s, actually intended to produce two
works, one for the contemporary public and one for posterity. The prefaces
to both works, quoted above, are significant in this regard. At the most
obvious level they may be seen as one instance of Procopius's clever
references to his secret work, which most, if not all, contemporaries would
not understand.' But the reference to mokhthera at the opening of the Wars
should alert us to a further point. Procopius did not think it inappropriate
1985), 16-17 and 49, with A. Cameron, 'Early Byzantine Kaiserkritik: Two Case Histories',
BMGS 3 (1977),15.
3
Cf. Rubin, Zeitalter, 469-470 n.621, Cameron, Procopius, 52-53 and, most recently, K.
Adshead, 'The Secret History of Procopius and its Genesis', B 63 (1993), 19-28, esp. 28 on the
problematic preface to the Anecdota. See also now J.A.S. Evans, 'The dates of Procopius' works:
a recapitulation of the evidence', GRBS 37 (1996), 308-309. In the light of these points, it is
surely overconfident to suppose (as A. Carile, 'Consenso e dissenso fra propaganda e fronda
nelle narrative dell' eta giustinianea' in G.G. Archi, ed., L'intperatore Giustiniano. Storia e Mito
(Milan, 1978), 62, does) that the work was composed according to the rules of invective
(psogos) prescribed by Aphthonius.
The initial quotation is from Wars 1.1.5. On the timing of Procopius's composition, see
Cameron, Procopius, 9, 15-16, 50. Evans, 'The dates', 312, argues, however, that the Anecdota
was only started after the Wars was completed.
5 On these cross-references, see (e.g.) Cameron, Procopius, 16.
PROCOPIUS THE OUTSIDER? 217
to indulge in criticism in this work too; on the contrary, it was part of his
brief to write the truth. And in fact it is not hard to find examples of
criticism, some of it remarkably trenchant, in the Wars. One of the most
obvious examples is his bitter attack on John the Cappadocian and
Tribonian at Wars 1.24.11-16 and the whole chapter which follows,
concerning John's fall from power.6 It is clear that Procopius thought that
criticism - in some cases, verging on invective - had a role in his history.
The view according to which 'Procopius was a highly self-conscious writer
who imposed artificially severe restraints on himself by adopting so
classicizing a literary form [in the Wars]' therefore requires modification:
Procopius did not pigeon-hole what he had to say, reserving invective and
criticism for the Anecdota, classicizing history for the Wars and panegyric for
the Buildings.' There is classicizing history in the Anecdota and invective in
the Wars; and this is because the division between these two works is a
contingent one, dependent on circumstance.
Classicizing history, far from being a straitjacket, gave ample scope to
the historians of the later Roman Empire. If Thucydides had been the only
classical model, classicizing historians might well have felt restricted; but
the more loosely constructed narrative of Herodotus, with its digressions on
the most diverse topics, allowed great flexibility while remaining faithful to
classical models. Furthermore, right from Herodotus (and to a lesser extent,
Thucydides), judgements, favourable or hostile, had been passed by
historians on the important figures in their works.' In the Hellenistic period,
and then under the Roman emperors, it is not surprising to find that the
tendency to focus on individuals increases. Theopompus in the fourth
century concentrated his work on Philip of Macedon; and although a
separate tradition of imperial biographies grew up in Roman times, a genre
which remained popular in Late Antiquity, the writing of history itself
could not remain unaffected by the enormous power now wielded by one
man and his ministers! Ammianus Marcellinus did not hesitate to
6 Cf. Procopius's criticisms of Bessas, Wars V1I.19.13-14, Vl.20. On John's fall from
power, cf. G. Greatrex, 'John the Cappadocian and the composition of Procopius' Persian
Wars', Prudentia 27 (1995), esp. 9-13.
' Quotation from Cameron, Procopius,17, cf. 25.
8 See S. Hornblower, ed., Greek Historiography (Oxford, 1994), 30-33, referring (e.g.) to the
'chatty, judgemental and Herodotean Xenophon', (31). Note (e.g.) Herodotus, Historiae IX.116
(condemnation of Artayctes) or VII.135 (praise for the Spartan heralds sent to Persia). Cf. M.
Whitby, The Emperor Maurice and his Historian (Oxford, 1988), 41 on the flexibility of
classicizing history.
9 Hornblower, Greek Historiography, 32-33, on the tendency to focus on individuals,
perhaps already visible in Thucydides (on Alcibiades). See A. Momigliano, 'The historians of
condemn or praise emperors and officials, as well as the Senate and people
of Rome.10 This tendency is even more marked in the strong criticisms
voiced by Amrnianus's near contemporary Eunapius of Sardis, for instance
against the author of the Breviarium Festus." Similarly, Priscus feels at
liberty to indulge in criticism of Theodosius II and the magister militum
Ardaburius, while Malchus is still more forthright in his attacks on Leo,
and, to a slightly lesser extent, Zeno.'2 In the early sixth century, Zosimus
included some remarkably personal allegations in his treatment of previous
emperors, particularly concerning Constantine, alongside more serious
criticisms of the way in which the empire was governed.13 It is clear
therefore that most of the ad hominem invective which Procopius deploys in
the Anecdota would not have been out of place in a classicizing history."
How then is the division between the Anecdota and the Wars to be
explained, if there is little or nothing to distinguish them in terms of genre?
The answer lies in factors extraneous to the two works. Their separation is a
matter of circumstance, as the case of John the Cappadocian illustrates. John
fell from power in 541, and even the death of his arch-enemy Theodora in
548 failed to bring about a restoration of his position. Procopius was
therefore able to give full rein to his skill at invective in the Wars on this
occasion, and so there remained almost nothing for him to report about
John in the Anecdota; much the same could be said for Tribonian.15 At work
on the Wars during the 540s, Procopius can hardly have supposed that the
the classical world and their audiences: some suggestions', Sesto contributo alla storia degli studi
classici (Rome, 1980), 371-372, on the impact of the imperial system on Roman historiography;
also J.F. Matthews, The Roman Empire of Ammianus (London, 1989), 231.
10 E.g. 14.1 (criticism of Callus and his wife), 14.6 (criticism of the Roman Senate and
people, cf. 28.4), 27.6 (praise for Valentinian's minister Eupraxius).
11 Eunapius, frg. 39.8 (Blockley). Cf. 46.1 (criticism of Theodosius I) and 5.1-2 (invective
against the Emperor Carinus). See Blockley, FCH I, 8, on Eunapius's tendencies towards
biography (expressed also in his preface, frg. 1).
'2
Priscus, frg. 3.1-2 and 19; Malchus, frgs 1 and 3 (on Leo), cf. 16.2 on Zeno (with 20.191
for some criticism).
13 Zos. 11.8.2, cf. 11.32. Cf. 1I.32.2-34 for more general charges.
1° Even the demonization of justinian and the explicit detail concerning Theodora's
sexual habits need not be viewed as incompatible with the genre: Eunapius (frg. 5) condemned
Carinus for his sexual misdemeanours with noble youths, while Malchus (frg. 8) described
how Zeno's son Zeno was led into all manner of vices by his attendants. Note also the
allegations of sexual misconduct aimed at John the Cappadocian, Wars 1.24.14 and cf. the
attacks on Philip of Macedon's private life by Theopompus (FGH 115.224, 225b), with Flower,
Theopompus,104-111 and 218-219.
15 See above, note 6 on John. On Tribonian, cf. Wars I.24.16, 25.2 and Anecd. 13.12 (adding
nothing of substance).
emperor he so disliked would outlive him and reign for another twenty
years: Justinian was already forty-five when he became sole emperor in 527.
Of average build, he ate sparingly and slept little; in the 520s he suffered
from a serious illness, and in the early 540s he contracted the plague.16 The
victim of one illness and two serious plots in the 540s alone seemed unlikely
to remain on the throne for very much longer. Yet Justinian not only lived
to see the publication of Wars I-VII in 550/1, but was still firmly in control
of the empire in 554, when the final instalment of the Wars appeared. The
date of Procopius's death is unknown, but there is no reason to doubt that
he died before Justinian.17 Had the emperor succumbed to old age or a
plotter's dagger in 549 or 550, it is likely that there would be no Anecdota: all
the criticisms that could be incorporated from the Anecdota would have
been inserted into the Wars at some point, even at the cost of some
coherence to the chronological (and geographical) structure - just as was
done with the material on John. The resulting work, one might speculate,
would have had a far more Herodotean feel than the Wars does, but would
undeniably still have been classicizing history.18 If Justinian had survived a
little longer and died before Wars VIII was completed, it would have been
possible for Procopius either to revise the Wars or to incorporate still more
digressions and corrections in Book VIII than it contains already.19
1b Anecd. 9.35 for the illness in the 520s, 4.1 on his contraction of the plague (in 542). He
was also seriously ill with a headache in 560, Theophanes, Chronographia, C. de Boor, ed.
(Hildesheim and New York, 1980), 234, and at another time suffered problems with one of
his knees, Aed. 1.7. Mal. 425, Anecd. 8.12 on Justinian's appearance.
17
Cameron, Procopius, 15, cf. Evans, 'The dates', 301-302. Cameron rightly rejects the
unlikely identification of the historian with the city prefect Procopius (Procopius 3 in PLRE III).
Evans, 'The dates', 301-313, puts both Wars VIII and the Buildings in the late 550s, but cf. G.
Greatrex, 'The dates of Procopius' Works', BMGS 18 (1994),101-114.
1B The chronology of the last chapters in Wars I is notably askew, on which see Greatrex,
'The Composition', 5-9. J.A.S. Evans, Procopius (New York, 1972), 54, sees the placing of the
episode on John as an emulation of Herodotus. The work produced would certainly have
contained inconsistencies, as it already does in relation to John the Cappadocian, who is
praised by Procopius at Wars 111.10.7 and criticized at 1.24-25. Cf. the differences in tone
between Thuc. 11.65.11 and VI-VII with S. Hornblower, A Commentary on Thucydides, I
(Oxford, 1991), 348.
19 John of Ephesus took a more critical line on Justin 11 after his death, as he makes clear
at HE M.1; cf. J.J. van Ginkel, 'John of Ephesus on Emperors: The Perception of the Byzantine
Empire by a Monophysite', in R. Lavenant, ed., VI Symposium Syriacum (Rome, 1994), 328, 330.
The description of the Black Sea at VIE.1-6 is the most obvious example of digression in Wars
VIII; it incorporates (implicit) corrections of earlier material, e.g. on the rivers Boas and Phasis
(cf. Wars 11.29.14-16 and V1II.2.6-9, 27), as well as additions (VIII.14.38-40, omens which
preceded the outbreak of war in 540).
Procopius therefore differs from other classicizing historians only in his

misfortune to have passed his entire career during the principate of one
man. Unlike Zosimus or Eunapius, he did not delve into much earlier
history, in which his taste for invective could be exercised quite openly;
Tacitus too had preferred not to extend his history into current affairs.
Whereas Ammianus, Eunapius, Priscus, Malchus, Candidus or Menander
were able to write about events within their own lifetime in candid and
critical terms - though not without caution - Procopius was not; for in all of
the above cases, the historians were writing under a new emperor, and
often one whose policies were at odds with those of his predecessor.2° When
at last Justinian died, a wave of criticism was unleashed, expressed most
vigorously by Evagrius (writing some decades later, however), but visible
in Agathias, Menander, Corippus and even the first novel of Justin II
himself.21
So far, then, Procopius remains well within the conventions of
classicizing historiography: the existence of the Anecdota does not mark him
off as some sort of particularly bilious outsider, more disenchanted with
imperial rule than any previous historian had ever been. It remains to
assess whether, like Ammianus Marcellinus in the phrase of Arnaldo
Momigliano, he might be described as a 'lonely historian', difficult to place
in context among his contemporaries in the sixth century.22
It is impossible to consider Procopius's place in sixth-century society
without confronting what might be termed the 'topos' of Byzantine
Kaiserkritik, a literary genre first proposed by Berthold Rubin and the
subject of a detailed study by Franz Tinnefeld in 1971.23 The term has
gained wide acceptance, and seems to be interpreted as denoting a range of
charges which might be levelled at emperors, regardless of their
appropriateness.21 Therefore, since Kaiserkritik is a literary genre,
This point is well brought out by Tinnefeld, Kaiserkritik, 192, cf. Menander, frg.4.6; also
20
Ammianus 26.1.1 with Matthews, Ammianus, 204-205.

21 Cf. Carile, 'Consenso', 79-83, Tinnefeld, Kaiserkritik, 37-40. See also A. Cameron,
Agathias (Oxford, 1970), 125-126.
u
A. Momigliano, 'The Lonely Historian Ammianus Marcellinus' in Essays in Ancient and
Modern Historiography (Oxford, 1977), 127-140. Procopius's classicizing style certainly in itself
does not mark him out as an outsider, since there were so many practitioners of the genre in
this period; Cameron, Procopius, 17 and ch. 7, rightly points out that his general attitudes were
also quite typical of his time.
73 Rubin, 'Zur Kaiserkritik', Tinnefeld, Kaiserkritik.
2i
Rubin himself, Zeitalter, 233, did not believe that the allegations which constituted
Kaiserkritik were in themselves unworthy of credence; and Tinnefeld, Kaiserkritik, 15, argues
that the Anecdota is a work of history, however rich in the topoi of Kaiserkritik.
accusations which can be so labelled may almost instantly be dismissed for

that very reason. In this respect, the notion of Kaiserkritik appears
particularly unhelpful, since the evidence of panegyrics, another well-
known and comparable literary genre, is regularly put to use by historians,
albeit with circumspection.
However, as Katherine Adshead has pointed out, 'the existence of a
separate and single genre of Kaiserkritik has yet to be demonstrated'.' The
difficulty in defining a separate genre of Kaiserkritik arises as soon as one
tries to pin it down. Rubin firmly believed in the existence of a Senatspartei
in constant opposition if not to the imperial system of government, then at
least to the methods by which it operated and to the emperor of the day.
This opposition group could trace its roots back to Tacitus, via Dexippus,
Eunapius and Zosimus; and it even employed a certain vocabulary in
voicing its criticisms, detectable not only in the Anecdota, but also in
Evagrius's Church History and John of Antioch's Chronicle 26 If the existence
of such a group could be demonstrated, then the Kaiserkritik evident in the
Anecdota would be of great interest in reflecting the views of dissident
senators in the Constantinople of Justinian. But the conclusions of
Tinnefeld's wide-ranging study do nothing to vindicate Rubin's theories.
Echoes of Procopius may be found in later authors, but these are by no
means confined to the criticisms of emperors; and, as Averil Cameron has
pointed out, it is highly doubtful whether any authors had access to the
Anecdota before the tenth century.17 Moreover there are, by Tinnefeld's own
admission, considerable variations within the range of criticisms levelled by
practitioners of Kaiserkritik: Procopius is, for instance, unique in castigating
the emperor for excessive harshness to religious minorities. And since
phrases which Rubin thought exemplified the genre could be applied to
26
'The Secret History', 22. It should be noted that Tinnefeld's treatment of Kaiserkritik is
more nuanced than Rubin's, and he departs from his predecessor's more literary approach
(Kaiserkritik,180-182).
26
Rubin, 'Zur Kaiserkritik', 453-457, Zeitalter, 133, 233, 235, 240-245 and 447 n. 546, cf. C.
Gizewski, Zur Normativitiit and Struktur der Verfassungsverlialtnisse in der spdteren romischen
Kaiserzeit (Munich, 1988), 59-60. Tinnefeld, Kaiserkritik, 13 and 180, is more sceptical,
particularly concerning the notion of senatorial phrases. It is clear, however, that Procopius
was not opposed to the imperial system of government, as Rubin, Zeitalter, 173 and Cameron,
Procopius, 246, note; but he may have believed in a more restricted role for the emperor, like
the author of the Peri Politikes Epistemes, cf. Cameron, Procopius, 249-250 and Gizewski, Zur
Normativitiit,142.
27 Cameron, Procopius, 16 and n. 88, cf. Tinnefeld, Kaiserkritik,180-181 and Adshead, 'The
Secret History', 19-23. Rubin, Zeitalter, 240, argued that Evagrius and Zonaras were both
(directly) influenced by the Anecdota.
individuals who were not emperors, one may begin to wonder just how
useful the term Kaiserkritik is 28 Furthermore, the scope of the proposed
genre is peculiarly narrow. Tinnefeld views Kaiserkritik as the product of
writers of high social standing, and he does not hesitate to conclude that
Procopius was expressing the views of sixth-century senators and large
landowners; he goes so far as to identify Procopius with the aristocracy
which had prospered under Anastasius and now found itself threatened by
the change in regime which had taken place in 51829 Yet there is criticism -
and praise - of emperors in works not associated with the elite in Byzantine
society, a good instance of which is the Oracle of Baalbek, which reports with
approval the popularity enjoyed by the Emperor Zeno because of his love
for the poor and his humiliation of the aristocracy, and is equally critical of
30
his successor.
The concept of Kaiserkritik, if it is to survive, requires extensive
modification and refinement. It seems doubtful whether it is worth the
effort involved; but it may have proved useful, if its legacy is to draw
attention to the fact that 'not even the best contemporary critics were able to
throw off the habit of interpreting politics in terms of the behaviour of the
emperor', or at any rate of the emperor and his closest associates 31 What we
are left with therefore is no more than a certain tendency to focus criticism
on the ruler(s) of the empire, and for the same charges - such as avarice,
weakness and corruption - to recur constantly. This is, of course, extremely
28 Tinnefeld, Kaiserkritik,180-181.
29
Tinnefeld, Kaiserkritik,185.
P.J. Alexander, The Oracle of Baalbek. The Tiburtine Sibyl in Greek Dress (Washington, DC,
1967), lines 159-161 and 167-170, cf. 93 and 95-97, with Cameron, 'Early Byzantine
Kaiserkriti', 16; cf. the favourable remarks on Zeno in the Anonymus Valesianus, 9.40, 44, on
which see A. Laniado, 'Some problems in the sources for the reign of the emperor Zeno',
BMGS 15 (1991), 162-163. As Cameron notes, 'Early Byzantine Kaiserkritik', 1 n. 5, Tinnefeld
also fails to take into account less 'mainstream' writers, such as John of Ephesus; and, given
the doubtful worth of the dividing line between 'elite' and 'popular' literature (cf. Cameron,
Procopius, 24-26), it is unclear why Kaiserkritik has not been perceived in the work of
chroniclers and hagiographers.
" Quotation from Cameron, 'Early Byzantine Kaiserkritik', 16. Praetorian prefects were
the usual alternative (or additional) focus of criticism: note Eunapius's criticisms of the
praetorian prefect Rufinus (frg. 62.2), as well as Zosimus's (V.9-12) and John the Lydian's of
Marinus (see 225 below). John the Lydian's invective against John the Cappadocian contains
accusations similar to those brought against emperors, yet, since not directed against Justinian
and not in a historical work, it is passed over by Tinnefeld.
broad, and has no evident benefits for the interpretation of sources,

particularly since almost any emperor was vulnerable to such accusations32
Notwithstanding the limitations of the notion of Kaiserkritik, Procopius's
position in sixth-century society must be considered. Here again it appears
difficult to view him as an outsider, for there was no shortage of
malcontents under Justinian's regime 33 Hence, although Procopius is
probably the fullest source on the disastrous consequences of the emperor's
policies, his contemporary John the Lydian echoes many of his criticisms.
Further attacks on Justinian's conduct of affairs followed under later
emperors; and as late as the twelfth century Zonaras appears to have had
access to an earlier (unknown) source critical of Justinian.34 Thus Procopius
was by no means an outsider in reacting negatively to the developments in
imperial policy introduced by Justinian and his ministers. But was he a
'lonely' outsider? It would be much more interesting if he could be
associated with a particular group in sixth-century society, as exponents of
the genre of Kaiserkritik seek to do: as has been noted, they regard him - and
other classicizing historians - as spokesmen for an aristocratic group,
comprising senators and wealthy landowners. According to this view, the
accession of Justin I in 518 caused consternation among the elite which had
risen to prominence during the reign of Anastasius, and who resented the
sudden rise to power of the parvenu Justin (and Justinian)35 There was
therefore a significant pool of former high officials and senators eager to
unseat Justin and Justinian. They placed their hopes for a change in regime
in Belisarius, but were consistently disappointed by his singular loyalty
both to the emperor and to his own wife; this disappointment is reflected in
the attacks on Belisarius in the Anecdota, which are directed chiefly at his
uxoriousness. 36
" The Anecdota may, however, stand out from such standard accusations to a certain
extent: Roger Scott has argued persuasively that the work represents a considered riposte to
particular initiatives undertaken by the government: 'Malalas, the Secret History and Justinian's
propaganda', DOP 39 (1985), 99-109.
" In general see M. Maas, John Lydus and the Roman Past (London 1992), 34-36 and
Cameron, Procopius, 21-22.
" Rubin, Zeitalter, 213, 230-231, 240 with Camey, Bureaucracy in Traditional Society
(Lawrence, KS, 1971) II, 163-176, for a detailed comparison of John and Procopius. Although
Zonaras XIV.6.1-9 contains criticisms of Justinian and Theodora similar to those of the
Anecdota, those at 6.31-2 are clearly different.
" See above, note 26; also Rubin, Zeitalter, 61, 203, Tinnefeld, Kaiserkritik, 23, and cf.
Angold, 'Procopius' portrait', 30.
>6
Rubin, Zeitalter, 199-200,218.
Such a picture cannot, however, be sustained for a number of reasons.

First, the extent of aristocratic discontent under Justinian is very difficult to
gauge. The only readily available figure is that of the eighteen patricians,
illustres, and consulars who had their property confiscated as associates of
Hypatius in the wake of the Nika riot. Although the Senate of
Constantinople in the sixth century was much smaller than it had been in
the late fourth century, this is not a large number.37 Furthermore, by the
time Procopius was writing, the number of senators who owed their
appointment to Anastasius must have been very low indeed, for in addition
to the eighteen punished after the Nika riot, others had succumbed to
persecutions of pagans and heretics in the late 520s and mid-540s 38 Hence,
as time passed, the ranks of senators will have come to be dominated by
men promoted by Justin and Justinian; and so it is not surprising that the
two plots against Justinian later in his reign failed to attract much support
and were swiftly betrayed 39 Second, it overemphasizes the discontinuity
between the reign of Anastasius and his successors. The situation for the
senatorial aristocracy did not suddenly worsen in 518; on the contrary, it
actually improved. For according to John of Antioch, late in his reign,
'Anastasius, having turned for the worse, exiled the entire aristocracy of the
state at one stroke', and the prosopographical record confirms the thrust of
the assertion: the 510s saw the disgrace and exile of the former praetorian
prefect Apion, as well as that of the former military commanders
Philoxenus and Diogenianus, not to mention the civil war fought in the
Balkans against the former magister militum Vitalian.9° All were restored to
favour as soon as Justin ascended the throne, even if Vitalian was
J'
Theophanes, Chronographia, 185-186; the three ranks were those held by senators, cf. G.
Greatrex, 'The Nika riot: a reappraisal', JHS 117 (1997), 80 n. 99.
3e
Cf. (e.g.) Maas, John Lydus, 70-71, on the persecutions. Yet others will no doubt have
have fallen victim to the plague, as Tribonian probaby did; cf. T. Honore, Tribonian (London,
1978), 61-64.
39 Cf. P.J. Heather, 'New Men for New Constantines' in P. Magdalino, ed., New
Constantines (Aldershot, 1994), 13-14 and 20 on the new 'aristocracy of service' which emerged
in the fourth century. This remained true in the sixth century, with the modification that only
those reaching the pinnacles of a career in the bureaucracy gained entry to the Senate: cf.
Rubin, Zeitalter, 233 and Jones, LRE, 529 (noting that a hereditary element managed to
perpetuate itself none the less).
40 Joh. Ant. frg. 215. PLRE II, Apion 2 (he was exiled in 510), Diogenianus 4 (date of exile
post-493), Philoxenus 8 (date of exile unknown), Vitalianus 2. Diogenianus was a relative of
the empress Ariadne (Mal. 393), while Apion's family was among the most distinguished of
Egypt: both might therefore be viewed as members of the 'hereditary aristocracy'. Cf. G.
Greatrex, 'Flavius Hypatius, quem vidit validum Parthus sensitque timendum', B 66 (1996), 138-
140, on the conservatism of Justin's reign in particular.
assassinated not long afterwards." Moreover, the family of Anastasius

continued to prosper: Hypatius's career in particular reached its acme
under Justin and Justinian. Even after the Nika riot, Probus was soon
pardoned, and the reputation of Hypatius and Pompey rehabilitated. The
next generation of Anastasius's family was actually united with Justinian's,
when the emperor's niece Praiecta married John, the son of Hypatius, in
546/8.42
Anastasius's reign cannot then be portrayed as a golden age for the
established senatorial aristocracy. The fragment of John of Antioch cited
above relates numerous abuses of the emperor's regime, including the
appropriation of funds from the wealthy. A similar picture emerges from
the biography of St Theodosius compiled by Theodore of Petra, as well as
from John the Lydian. Although John is usually regarded as a critic of John
the Cappadocian, and indirectly of Justinian, he clearly believed that the
decline of the praetorian prefecture at any rate started under Anastasius; as
in the case of Justinian and John the Cappadocian, he prefers to blame the
prefect Marinus than to criticize the emperor.' The image of a powerful
circle of disgruntled aristocrats throughout the reigns of Justin and
Justinian thus has little to recommend it. Discontented senators there
certainly were, such as the former praetorian prefect Julian, who joined
Hypatius and Pompey during the Nika riot, and the unknown Origenes;
but there were unhappy senators under any emperor, no less so in the case
of Anastasius than in that of his successors. According to both Victor
44
Tonnennensis and Zonaras there were senators actually enthusiastic for

Justinian: it was apparently only in response to pressure from them that
Justinian was raised to the rank of nobilissimus, then Caesar, by his uncle's
" Mal. 411; cf. Vasiliev, Justin I (Cambridge, MA, 1950), 108-114, with Greatrex, 'Flavius
Hypatius', 132-136.
" Cf. A.D.E. Cameron, 'The House of Anastasius', GRBS 19 (1978), 259-276, on the
fortunes of Anastasius's family under Justin and Justinian; also Greatrex, 'Flavius Hypatius',
121 on Hypatius's career. PLRE III, Praiecta 1 for the date of her marriage to John.
93
Der Heilige T heodosios, ed. H. Usener (Leipzig, 1890), 54-55; note the accusation of
philargyria at 55.12. John the Lydian, De Mag. III.36, 46, 49, 51, with Maas, John Lydus, 86-87.
Cf. Laniado, 'Some problems', 164-165, pointing out that the panegyricists of Anastasius make
very similar complaints concerning the later years of Zeno's reign.
N
Tinnefeld, Kaiserkritik, 39 n. 77, cites Joh. Eph. HE VI.24, in which both Senate and
people are said to have been critical of Justinian's gifts to the Avars (late in his reign), cf.
Agathias, Historiae, V.14. But one cannot infer from the complaints of Procopius and John the
Lydian that there was general senatorial discontent in the latter half of Justinian's reign, as
Carile, 'Consenso', 61, does. On Julian, see Cameron, 'House of Anastasius', 264-267.
45 Vasiliev, Justin I, 94-95, citing Zon. XIV.5.35 and Victor Tonnennensis, Chron. a.525 (ed.
Mommsen, 197). Gizewski, Zur Normativitdt, 124-125, notes how Justinian sought to support
Finally, Procopius himself. There is no evidence that he was a senator,

although he was rewarded with honorary illustris rank at some point.96 In
this he is no different from other classicizing historians, such as Anu ianus
or Priscus. This need not have precluded him, however, from voicing
complaints made by senators: the proudly republican author Titinius
Capito, who (with Trajan's permission) displayed busts of Brutus and
Cassius in his house, clearly took a senatorial line in his commemoration of
the great men of earlier times, and was neither a senator nor a knight
Both Ammianus and Zosimus, to name but two examples, are
himself.47
critical of the harsh treatment of the Senate under certain emperors.48

Procopius was thus by no means unusual in singling out this aspect of
Justinian's reign for criticism; and in other areas of policy, his accusations
resemble those of earlier historians - such as Zosimus and John of Antioch
concerning the oppression of the cities and the curial class or Malchus on
the sale of
offices.49
At one level, Procopius was a 'lonely historian': 'unable to have

confidence even in the most intimate of [his] kinsmen', he composed a work
destined - so he claims - for the eyes of posterity alone5° Yet it is clear from
the Senate in some of his legislation; cf. ibid. 145 and 146 n. 186 on senators aligned with
Justinian and criticized by Procopius. On the other hand, see also Anecd. 9.52, 10.7, 10.9, noted
by Rubin, Zeitalter, 125 (attesting hostility to the succession of Justinian among senators).
"6 Gizewski, Zur Norntativitdt,126 n. 165, asserts (from Anecd. 12.14) that Procopius was a
senator, although the passage certainly does not allow such an inference. Procopius was an
illusMs according to the Suda (cf. PLRE III, Procopius 2), but (despite Evans, Procopius, 38), the
rank (at any rate at honorary level) was bestowed fairly widely during Justinian's reign, cf.
Stein II, 712 and n. 1.
" Cf. R. Syme, Tacitus I (Oxford, 1959), 92, from Pliny, ep.1.17. Ammianus was not a
senator: see A. Cameron, 'The Roman friends of Ammianus', JRS 54 (1964), 15-16. Cf. Rubin,
Zeitalter, 431-432 n. 425, on the similarity between Procopius's 'senatorial' attitudes and those
of Tacitus and Ammianus; also Angold, 'Procopius' portrait', 29.
48 Zos. V.13.1 (under Arcadius), Ammianus 28.1 (trials at Rome under Valentinian); cf.
Momigliano, 'The Lonely Historian', 133, on Ammianus's sympathy for the curiales and
propertied classes generally. Zosimus was not a senator: cf. PLRE 11, Zosimus 6. Note also Joh.
Ant. frgs 106 (Domitian),189 (Eutropius) and Priscus, frg. 9.3.
49
Zosimus IV.29, Joh. Ant. frgs 215, 216 (on the cities and curial classes); cf. Malchus frg.
3; Malchus frg. 10 and Joh. Ant. frg. 215 on the sale of offices.
so
Anecd. 1.2 (tr. Dewing). Rubin, Zeitalter, 470 n. 621 regards the work as destined for a
(contemporary) opposition movement, however; cf. J.A.S. Evans, The Age of Justinian (London,
1996), 5, surmising that 'it must have found some appreciative readers' for it to have survived.
I would be less inclined to dismiss Procopius's preface so lightly, especially given what he goes
on to report concerning the frequency of betrayals; the case of the patriarch Paul of Antioch,
reported by John of Ephesus (HE 11.2), shows how dangerous the composition of a critical
work could be; cf. van Ginkel, 'John of Ephesus on Emperors', 328.
other sources that he was by no means a lone voice or outsider in

inveighing against the emperor's policies5' And like all other classicizing
historians, he was certainly a member of the 'sub-elite', a member of the
landed classes of the eastern empire, with the typical prejudices of his rank.
As an assessor of the most successful general of his age, he was well
informed about intrigues in the palace and the army; he was undoubtedly
an 'insider' in this respect It has been argued here, however, that
52
Procopius's criticisms of Justinian's rule should not be interpreted as the

manifesto of some sort of senatorial grouping.53 Nor should he be seen as a
spokesman for a party which favoured the deposition of Justinian in favour
of Belisarius. Such a body of opinion may have existed, since he was
frequently implicated in conspiracies. 54 But in fact Belisarius did not
command the loyalty of even all the military, as is clear from his campaigns
in Italy. Thus the (not unwavering) enthusiasm of Procopius for his patron
by no means implies the existence of a Belisariuskreise.55
In conclusion, Procopius should not be regarded as an outsider, either in
terms of genres, or as someone isolated from contemporary opinion. He
worked within the conventions of classicizing historiography and, as a
well-born and successful official, had good connections in the upper
echelons of the empire. The existence of the Anecdota as a separate work
has, regrettably, rather confused the picture. On the one hand, it has
inclined scholars to see it as the antithesis of the De Aedificiis (psogos against
panegyric), rather than as a historical companion to the Wars. On the other,
51 Note also Procopius's claim to be reporting the opinion of 'most people' at Anecd. 13.1.
See note 34 on Zonaras's critical source and cf. Rubin, Zeitalter, 227 on John the Lydian (and
later critics).
52
Cf. Cameron, Procopius, 71 (on his knowledge of the plot to entrap John the
Cappadocian) and J. Haury, 'Prokop and der Kaiser Justinian', BZ 37 (1937), 8-9. Cameron,
Procopius, 240, 245, 264 on Procopius (and John the Lydian) being members of the 'sub-elite'
and their attitudes.
53 Cf. Momigliano, 'The Lonely Historian', 133: 'Ammianus does not belong to a "party"
or "faction"' contra (e.g.) Rubin, Zeitalter, 200: 'Der Mitarbeiter Belisars fuhlt sich als Sprecher
einer Gruppe...', cf. ibid., 198 and Tinnefeld, Kaiserkritik, 21-22. Procopius's criticisms actually
go beyond the scope of the charges usually brought against emperors and powerful figures,
and thus seem more individual than conventional; see above, note 32.
sa
Stein II, 480-482, 779 on Belisarius's implication in plots in 541 and 562, cf. Procopius,
Wars III.8.1-2. Tinnefeld, Kaiserkritik, 21, Rubin, Zeitalter, 200-201, and Carile, 'Consenso', 64,
dearly envisage some sort of Belisarius-party. It should be stressed that whatever opposition
groups there were are unlikely to have been either united or organized: see J.
Karayannopoulos, Gnomon 31 (1961), 670 and Maas, John Lydus, 7.
55
The allegations against Belisarius and Bouzes in 542 (Anecd. 4.1-4) point to his isolation
in the military: it was two fellow commanders who laid the accusation.
it has tempted others to infer the existence of factions of conspiring senators

and generals, although neither the Anecdota nor any other sources permit
such extrapolations. Both these tendencies, it has been argued, should be
resisted.
17. Foreigners in tenth-century Byzantium:
a contribution to the history of cultural encounter
Liliana Simeonova
Europe, and the Hellenistic Roman world before it, have always been
concerned with cultural encounter and cultural appropriation in ways
that other cultures perhaps have not.' 'How to deal with the Other?' was
a question to which the European seemed never to be able to find a
simple answer. In his book entitled The Conquest of America. The Question
of the Other, Tzvetan Todorov wrote: 'The first, spontaneous reaction with
regard to the stranger is to imagine him as inferior, since he is different
from us: this is not even a man, or if he is one, an inferior barbarian; if he
does not speak our language, it is because he speaks none at all, or cannot
speak, as Columbus still believed.' It is in this fashion, according to
Todorov, that the European Slavs call their German neighbours 'mutes',
the Mayas of Yucatan call the Toltec invaders 'mutes', and so on.2 It was
in a similar fashion that the ancient Greeks started calling foreigners
'barbarians' on account of their inarticulate manner of speaking. In due
time, the pejorative 'barbarian' spread out to include the foreigners'
dress, mannerisms, food and customs which, from a Hellenic point of
view, seemed quite 'barbaric'.
Byzantines inherited their ancient Greek predecessors' attitude toward
foreigners. To them, the foreigner was a distorting mirror in which they
were able to contemplate a wholly unrepresentative image of themselves:
thus the foreigner was uncouth, simple, and uncivilized; Byzantines, on
the other hand, were sophisticated and refined. This attitude served
consistently to assure the Byzantines that their civilization was superior
to all other civilizations and deserved to dominate the oikoumene; that
' See A. Pagden's review of J. Fontana, The Distorted Past: A Reinterpretation of Europe,
trans. by C. Smith (Cambridge, MA, 1995), in AHR, 102 (1997),1469-1470.
2 T. Todorov, The Conquest of America. The Question of the Other, trans. by R. Howard
(New York and Cambridge, 1984), 76-78.
229
230 LILIANA SIMEONOVA
their empire's proper place in the world was that of the benefactor and
the master of all the others; and that, bearing primary responsibility for
everybody's salvation, the Christian Roman emperor had the divine task
of spreading Orthodoxy on a world-wide scale.
As its critics have insisted, Byzantium was aggressive and overbearing
in its attitudes toward outsiders, whether these were foreigners or
minorities. At the same time, however, the Byzantine policy-makers,
diplomats, merchants and generals seem to have been well informed of
the real world that stretched beyond the imperial borders; more often
than not, they were capable of making the right decisions in their
dealings with foreigners. The Byzantines' attitude toward foreigners
could, therefore, be described as ambivalent: in their collective mind, the
long-term perspective of conquering the whole world in order to bring it
in harmony with God's sacred purposes went hand in hand with a certain
amount of flexibility and compromise, which their empire showed in its
day-to-day dealings with other nations.
In a sense, the tenth century marked a peak in the Byzantines'
awareness of the role which their empire played in the contemporary
world. Thanks to Constantinople's increased significance as a cultural,
religious and commercial centre, as well as the emperors Leo VI's and
Constantine VII's love of multiculturalism, the imperial capital and the
imperial court hosted great numbers of foreigners, Christian, Muslim,
and pagan. In the eyes of the tenth-century Byzantines as well as in those
of their foreign contemporaries, Constantinople was more or less an
epitome of the Eastern Roman Empire, representing the entire complexity
of the empire's power structures, social practices, religious norms and
artistic canons. The surviving sources provide evidence of at least
fourteen visits of foreign heads of state or other high-ranking visitors to
the imperial capital in the course of the century.3 At the same time, in
Constantinople, there always was the possibility of a rise of xenophobia,
due to a growing number of foreigners presented with titles and gifts by
the emperor.
Much has been said and written about Byzantium's self-
representation which has found reflection, at various levels and in
various ways, in its religious and imperial propaganda. Audiences with
the emperor, lavish diplomatic receptions at the palace, tours around the
3 L. Simeonova, 'Semiotika na uni2enieto: visokopostaveni u2denci v imperskata

stolica prez X vek' ('Semiotics of Humiliation: High-Ranking Foreigners in the Imperial
Capital in the Tenth Century'), Rodina 1996/4, 29-43 (in Bulgarian).
FOREIGNERS IN TENTH-CENTURY BYZANTIUM 231
capital, religious processions, military triumphs and games in the

Hippodrome were used by the Byzantines as a means of impressing, and
intimidating, the foreign visitors. Life in Byzantium - in fact, every aspect
of it - was loaded with layers of symbolism, and the average Byzantine
was highly apprehensive of the language of symbols. But how far were
foreigners able to read into the symbolic language of Byzantine
ceremonies? Did Byzantine symbols 'work' within a Christian cultural
context only or were there any universal, 'trans-cultural' symbols that
'worked' in a wider cultural context? And how much of this propaganda
was actually designed for purely domestic consumption?
In the first place, there was a large group of symbols that transgressed
the boundaries of the Roman Christian symbolism and were easily
understood by most foreign visitors to Constantinople. The large
amounts of delicious food served at imperial banquets, the endless
demonstrations of wealth, the ample decoration of the palace and the
streets, and the rich gifts of silk, valuables and money. certainly formed a
'universal' language that no Christian, Muslim, or pagan would fail to
understand.
Thus, scholars have argued whether Liutprand's Relatio is a true
account of his diplomatic mission to Constantinople or an angry
pamphlet presenting a distorted picture of what he saw and experienced
in the imperial capital! Whatever the case, the bishop of Cremona did not
fail to appreciate the good food served at the palace, as could be seen
from the following episode. In his own words, after he made a fuss
because an uncouth Bulgarian ambassador was given precedence over
him, the illustrious ambassador of Emperor Otto I angrily left the
banquet; his anger, however, was soon mollified thanks to the delicious
dish which was sent to him by the emperor:
But the pious emperor relieved my grief through a generous gift by

sending me, out of his most refined dishes, one fat kid of which he
himself had consumed and which was deliciously filled with
garlic, onions, and leeks and was soaked in fish sauce. At that
point, I was wishing you were at my table, so that you, who do not
believe that the refined pleasures of the pious emperor lead to
favorable solutions, would, just by seeing this, believe it.'
On the nature of Liutprand's Relatio, see M. Lintzel, Ausgewahlte Schriften, Bd 2

(Berlin, 1961), 371 and following. Cf. B. Karageorgos, AtovrvrpavSos. 0 extaxotro5 Kpep6vt75
cog taropttcds rat StnAwpav7S (Athens, 1978), 62-65.
5 Liutprand, Relatio de legatione Constantinopolitana, in MGH SS III, 350.30-351.39.
As Thomas Weber's study of the descriptions of food and beverage in

Liutprand's accounts of Constantinople has shown,' the bishop made fun
of the Greek wine but seemed very much to like Byzantine cuisine; he
described, in detail, the Greek food and spices. Translated into the
language of signs, Liutprand's references to the excellent Byzantine food
provide an example of how easily the 'us vs them' gap could be bridged
by feasting which 'worked' as a trans-cultural sign.
Muslim guests at imperial banquets did not fail to appreciate the
Greek food, either. Harun-ibn-Yahya seems deeply thankful to the
Byzantine masters of ceremonies for their going as far as to swear, by the
head of the emperor, that in the dishes served to the Arabs there was no
pork at all; he was further impressed by the fact that the food was served
on large golden and silver plates:'
To discuss the importance which, since its earliest days, Western
civilization has assigned to the ritual of feasting is not one of my
objectives here. Suffice it to say that, to the ancient Greek symposion, the
Byzantines added a large number of meaningful elements. Thus, the
arrangement of the great number of guests at the imperial tables was a
reflection of the hierarchy at the imperial court and the one in Heaven.'
And because Christian society is a society valuing ritual and sacrifice, the
6
J. Koder and Th. Weber, Liutprand von Cremona in Konstantinopel. Untersuchungen
zum griechischen Sprachschatz and zu realienkundlichen Aussagen in seinen Werken, Bgzantina
Vindobonensia Band XIII (Wien, 1980), 73-99.
' A.A. Vasiliev, 'Harun-ibn-Yahya and His Description of Constantinople',
Seminarium Kondakovianun: 5 (Prague, 1932), 149-163, esp. 157. Vasiliev believes that ibn-
Yahya's journey to Constantinople took place in the second half of the ninth century and,
still more exactly, after 881: ibid., 149-152. I am more inclined to attribute his journey to the
very end of the ninth or, rather, the very beginning of the tenth century. The terminus post
quern of his trip to Byzantium seems to be the late 890s: ibn-Yahya describes the
participation of Arab prisoners of war (of which he was one) in the Christmas banquets; yet
inviting POWs to the palace seems to have been an innovation introduced to the Byzantine
court ceremonial on the initiative of Leo VI; most probably, it was this as well as some
other changes in the ceremonial that made the imperial atriklines Philotheos abandon the
existing kletorologia and compile a kletorologion of his own (Sept. 899). Cf. L. Simeonova, 'In
the Depths of Tenth-Century Byzantine Ceremonial: the Treatment of Arab Prisoners of
War at Imperial Banquets', BMGS 22 (1998), 74-103, and esp. 77 and 103. The terminus ante
quern of ibn-Yahya's visit was the first decade of the tenth century: ibn-Rosteh seems to
have written ibn-Yahya's story down c. AD 903, according to M.J. de Goeje, or no later than
913-914, according to other Orientalists: see Vasiliev, 'Harun-ibn-Yahya and His
Description of Constantinople', 149, n. 1. This narrows the dates of ibn-Yahya's journey
down to a period of several years, i.e., between the late 890s and 903 (or 914).
9
See the above-mentioned Kletorologion of Philotheos, in N. Oikonomides, Les listes de
preseance byzantines des IXe et Xe siecles (Paris, 1972), 81-235.
food served at these banquets played the double role of a means of social
interaction and ritual food. Inasmuch as the Byzantine court ceremonial
was loaded with secular and religious elements, banquets at the palace
were closely linked with the ritual of eating sacrificial food on the main
feasts of the liturgical calendar (Christmas, Easter, Pentecost, the Feast of
the Holy Apostles, etc.). Through a seemingly friendly gesture of
compromise, which amounted to swearing that they were not feeding
their Muslim guests on pork, the Byzantines actually succeeded in
securing the Muslims' unconscious acceptance of a Christian ritual of
eating sacrificial food on Christmas.
That, at banquets, certain guests were given precedence over others
was a gesture that was not hard to decipher, at least in most cases.
Muslims, pagans and recent converts, however, were not always able to
read into this type of coded language. Much harder to decipher were
such complex ceremonies as, for example, a foreigner's spiritual adoption
by the emperor, or an act of quasi-baptism of infidels, or the extravagant
colour-and-number symbolism encoded in some triumphs, processions
and other public events. Let me adduce several instances of this type of
lack of understanding, or misunderstanding on the foreigners' part, of
Byzantine ceremonies.
For example, the meaning of what happened to Princess Olga of Kiev
during her stay in Constantinople is explained, in divergent ways, by the
Byzantine and Russian authors.9 Constantine Porphyrogennetos, for one
thing, tells us that, upon being received at the palace, Olga was decorated
with a waistband and thus became one of the empress's ladies-in-waiting.
Later, at the banquet, she was seated at the empress's table. While this
episode is described, in The Book of Ceremonies, in the context of the great
honours accorded to the foreign princess," the fourteenth-century editor
of the Russian Primary Chronicle (the so-called Laurentian text) does not
mention it at all. What followed Olga's baptism is described, by this
Russian chronicler, in terms of folklore rather than historic fact:
' For more details concerning Olga's trip to the imperial capital, see D. Obolensky,
The Byzantine Commonwealth. Eastern Europe 500-1453 (New York, 1982), 238-239; and also
S. Franklin and J. Shepard, The Emergence of Rus 750-1200 (London and New York, 1996),
133-138.
'° Constantine Porphyrogenitus, De cerimoniis aulae byzantinae libri duo, ed. I. Reiske,
vol. II (Bonn, 1830), 594-598. See also J. Featherstone, 'Ol'ga's Visit to Constantinople',
Harvard Ukrainian Studies XIV/3-4 (1990), 293-312.
After her baptism, the emperor summoned Olga and made known
to her that he wished her to become his wife. But she replied, 'How
can you marry me, after yourself baptizing me and calling me your
daughter? For among Christians that is unlawful, as you yourself
must know.' Then the emperor said, 'Olga, you have outwitted
me.' He gave her many gifts of gold, silver, and various vases, and
dismissed her, still calling her his daughter."
Although, somewhat later in the text of the Primary Chronicle, Olga's trip
to the Byzantine emperor is likened to the Queen of Ethiopia's trip to
King Solomon in search of wisdom, the fourteenth-century Christian
editor of this Russian saga did not consider it necessary to revise his
earlier folklore-style explanation of what happened when the Russian
princess was baptized. An earlier, tenth-century version of the same
chronicle, the so-called Perejaslavl'-Suzdal' text, informs us that the
emperor wanted to make Olga an empress but eventually made her his
daughter. Another Russian source, the Chronicle of the Russian Princes (the
twelfth-century Perejaslavl'-Vladimir text) says that, upon seeing Olga's
beautiful face, the emperor 'spoke to her in words of love and told her
that he wanted to marry her'.12 Referring to the same episode, Olga's
Russian hagiographer emphasizes the princess's spirituality which was in
sharp contrast with the emperor's sinful taste for worldly pleasures.13 In
fact, most Russian sources say that the Greek tsar then was Tzimiskes but
the name of the emperor does not really matter.
During her visit to Constantinople, Olga was accompanied by an
impressive number of people, both men and women; maybe it was their
narrative of what they thought they had seen happen that was used, by
both contemporary and later Russian writers, as an explanation of what
11
The Russian Primary Chronicle. Laurentian Text. Tr. and ed. by S.H. Cross and O.P.
Sherbowitz-Wetzor (Cambridge, MA, 1953), 83. Cf. Povest' vremennykh let. Po Lavrent'evskoj
letopisi 1377 goda, ed. D.S. Likhachev and V.P. Adrianova-Perets (Leningrad, 1950), I, 241-
242, and commentary in ibid., II, 306-308.
12
On the above texts, see N.I. Prokof'ev, Russkie khozhenia XII-XV veka (Moscow,
1970), 5-30, and esp. 19-24. Prokof'ef believes that 'love' in Olga's case is used in a political
rather than romantic context, all the more that the princess must have been about 67 years
old at that time. According to Prokof'ev, the word 'love' was part of the traditional formula
used in the tenth-century Byzantine-Russian peace treaties: e.g., 'to create love with the
Tsar13himself, and with all the boyars, and with all the Greek people'.
I. Malyshevsky, 'Proiskhozhdenie russkoj velikoj kn'agini Ol'gi sv.', Kievskaja starina
(1889), 4-5.
had really happened upon the princess's conversion to Christianity.14

Thus, while Constantine Porphyrogennetos saw himself as an
intermediary between man and God who stood as Olga's sponsor before
the altar, Russian authors depicted the foreign tsar as the failed suitor of
Slavic folklore.
Another example of foreigners not being able to decode the language
of Byzantine ceremonial is presented by the participation of Muslim
prisoners of war in the Christmas Day and Easter Sunday banquets at the
palace. The obvious part of the story is that Emperor Leo VI, and
Constantine VII after him, may have wanted to add to their imperial
universalism by inviting people of as many nationalities to these
banquets as possible. The less obvious part, at least from a Muslim's point
of view, is that these Arabs, selected from among the prisoners kept in the
Great Praetorium, may have been subject to a coded ceremony of baptism
which remained concealed from their eyes.
Alterity resulting from religious differences seems to have bothered
Byzantines more than any other type of alterity, whether originating in
ethnicity, class distinction, or gender. Byzantines were prepared to do
everything humanly possible in order to secure the salvation of other
people's souls on the day of the Last Judgement. At the same time, they
felt that it was their duty to punish severely everybody who had
apostatized or had refused to adopt Christianity. Thus, during a Cretan
campaign in the 870s, Niketas, the commander-in-chief of the Byzantine
forces, showed great cruelty in his dealings with prisoners: those who
had apostatized from Christianity were skinned alive and their property
was confiscated; those who were Muslims were dropped into a vessel
filled with boiling resin and were told that it was in this painful and
gruesome fashion that they were being
baptized."
Under Leo VI and his son, this type of 'conversion' of Muslims to

Christianity was no longer possible. Both emperors showed great interest
in the Arab world and felt a certain degree of respect for Arab customs
and warfare. Consequently, Arab POWs began to be treated in a more
14
Likhachev argues that the Russian Primary Chronicle was greatly influenced by
Russian folklore. See D.S. Likhachev, Izbrannye raboty v trekh tomakh (Leningrad, 1987), II,
43-133. Furthermore, the motif of a smart woman, who succeeds in outwitting a stranger
making advances to her, is one of the most exploited motifs in the vast body of Slavic
moralistic tales, the so-called Slavic paterika. On the central themes running through these
tales, see S. Nikolova, ed., Patericnite razkazi v balgarskata srednovekovna literatura (Sofia,
1986, 5-17.
1 Theophanes Continuatus, Chronographia,, ed. I. Bekker (Bonn, 1838), V.61.
humane fashion by the Byzantines while Arab delegations were given

lavish receptions at the palace;16 ordinary Muslims were encouraged to
convert to Christianity in return for a comfortable settlement in the
17
empire.
Because the prisoners kept in the Great Praetorium were most
probably members of the Arab nobility, the Byzantines did not dare to
make them openly apostatize; they went for a coded baptismal ceremony
instead. In an earlier article of mine, I examined the multi-layered
meaning of the Muslim prisoners' participation in the Christmas Day and
Easter Sunday banquets.18 By a comparative study of contemporary
sources, I tried to prove that the white dresses, which the Arabs were
given to wear for the occasion, were, in fact, the so-called 'robes of
sinlessness' worn by catechumens, or newly enlightened; and that these
Arabs were invited to partake of Christian feasts that were directly
associated with the baptismal season in the East Orthodox liturgical
calendar (and especially with the days when baptism of adult
catechumens took place).
Furthermore, at both banquets, the Muslim captives were seated next
to the low-ranking members of the Bulgarian delegation.'9 In the language
of Byzantine ceremonies, this may have been a hint that Arabs will soon
become 'Bulgarians', that is, tame Christian 'friends and subjects' of the
Roman emperor. As a result of this meaningful ceremony, the emperor
must have scored points in the eyes of his own subjects and his Christian
guests: he was seen as a truly universal ruler capable of securing
everybody's salvation through baptizing them, whether openly or
secretly.
Harun-ibn-Yahya, who seems to have participated in at least one of
these imperial banquets, does not suspect the Byzantines of any
wrongdoing; this only confirms my assumption that the Arabs were
unaware of the hidden meaning of the ceremonial of which they were
partaking. Neither does he mention the fact that the banquet hall was
brightly lit and that, from time to time, the lights went off: after all,
Muslims were not familiar with the meaning of light in the Christian
metaphysical sense.
16
Const. Porph., De cerim., II, 584.
17
Const. Porph., De cerinl., II, 694-695.
18 See above, note 7: Simeonova, In the Depths of Tenth-Century Byzantine
Ceremonial'.
19
Oikonomides, Les listes de preseance,169.8-20, 203.13-15.
As his, description of the twelve-day Christmas banquet shows,

however, ibn-Yahya did not thoroughly fail to decode the symbolic
language of the ceremony. For example, he writes that the emperor sits in
front, and four richly decorated tables are brought to him; the first one is
said to have belonged to Solomon, the second to his son, David, the third
to Korah (a personage to be found in Numbers, 16), and the fourth to the
Emperor Constantine.20 On the other hand, the Arab writer does not say
that, at his table, the emperor was surrounded by twelve dignitaries, after
the fashion of Jesus and the Twelve Apostles (a fact mentioned in
Philotheos's description of the emperor's table21). Once again, this
example of what Muslims understood, and what they failed to
understand, shows that non-Christians were able to decipher only those
cultural signs that transcended the narrow context of Christian
symbolism and 'worked' in a wider cultural context. As a Muslim, ibn-
Yahya understood the symbols that were drawn from the Old Testament
but not the ones borrowed from the New Testament.
In Byzantium, Arabs did understand the meaning of the display of
wealth; they also knew what gold and purple stood for 22 Other elements
of the Christian colour-number symbolism, however, remained hidden
from Muslim eyes. Thus, there is no evidence that the prisoners who took
part in General Nikephoros Phokas's triumph of 960/61 were aware of
the symbolism encoded in this event. Instead of riding in a chariot, the
victorious general chose to walk; behind him walked the emir of Candia,
his family and the rest of the Arab prisoners; all of them were clad in
white.13 A closer look at Pseudo-Symeon's description of the parade
shows that the general, who was known as an extremely pious man, must
have made his triumph resemble a scene from the Book of Revelation:
20 Vasiliev, 'Harun-ibn-Yahya and His Description of Constantinople', 157.

21
Oikonomides, Les listes de preseance,167.10-18.
22
N.El Cheikh-Saliba, 'Byzantium Viewed by the Arabs' (Unpublished PhD
dissertation, Harvard University, 1992), 166-190, and esp. 185 and following. Western
civilization has consistently viewed purple and gold as symbols of supreme authority and
power for thousands of years: cf. M. Reinhold, History of Purple as a Status Symbol in
Antiquity [Collection Latomus, vol. 116], (Brussels, 1970). As for the meaning of gold in the
system of Byzantine symbols, see S.S. Averincev, 'Zoloto v sisteme simvolov
rannevizantijskoj kul'tury', in Vizantija, iuinye slavjane i drevnjaja Rus' (Moscow, 1974), 48
and following.
23
Pseudo-Symeon, Chronographia in Theophanes Continuatus, Ioannes Cameniata, Symeon
Magister, Georgius Monachus, ed. I. Bekker (Bonn, 1838), 759-760. Cf. M. McCormick, Eternal
Victory. Triumphal Rulership in Late Antiquity, Byzantium, and Early Medieval West
(Cambridge, London and New York, 1986), 168.
this was the so-called Triumph of the Elect (Rev. 7).24 This public event,
with its apocalyptic connotations, must have been designed mostly for
domestic consumption; it ought to convince the Byzantine observer that it
was his empire that would shepherd, on the day of the Last Judgement,
people of various nationalities into salvation.
Another example of a Muslim attempting to read into Byzantine
symbols, and being only partially successful in this task, is ibn-Yahya's
description of a public procession to the Great Church, which was led by
the emperor.25 Obviously, ibn-Yahya was well aware of the importance
which Byzantines attached to the ample decoration of the streets, the
bright colours of the clothes of the participants in the procession, the
display of gold, silver and arms, the use of censers and the endless
acclamations. He pays special attention to the colour and fabric of which
the clothes of each group of people were made; he also describes their
arms and the accessories to their clothes; and he mentions the number of
people included in each group.
The Muslim author, however, does not endeavour to explain the
meaning of any of the colours or numbers. He makes a passing remark
about the emperor's two different shoes - one was red, the other black -
but does not say that, while the red shoe symbolized the man's imperial
status, the black shoe was a reminder of the emperor's being only mortal,
like the commoners.26 In fact, the colour black had a different meaning in
the contemporary court ceremonial of the caliphate: it was the royal
colour of the Abbasids.27 In the eyes of a tenth-century Muslim observer
of Byzantine ceremonies, black was, therefore, a status symbol of royalty
rather than commonality.
24 On the apocalyptic connotations of the triumph, see Simeonova, 'In the Depths of
Tenth-Century Byzantine Ceremonial', 101. After they were paraded in the streets in the
guise of martyrs, the emir of Candia and his family received lavish gifts from the emperor
(Romanos II) and were given an estate in the country. According to Pseudo-Symeon, the
emir was not promoted to senatorial rank because he and his family declined to receive
baptism. This episode shows that Byzantines did not dare to convert forcefully high-
ranking Muslim captives to Christianity.
ss
Vasiliev, 'Harun-ibn-Yahya and His Description of Constantinople', 158-160.
26 That black shoes were worn by commoners is known thanks to several middle-
Byzantine sources: see, for example, Leo Diacon. VII, 6 D; Anna Comnena III, 4 C. Pseudo-
Codin., De offic. IV, B 69 writes that all the archontes, except for the sebastocrator and the
despotes, wear black shoes too.
2J According to Masoudi, among the precious gifts which tenth-century caliphs gave
to high-ranking Muslim visitors to their court was the black banner of the Abbasid dynasty.
Cf. A.A. Vasiliev, Byzance et les Arabes, 11/2 (Bruxelles, 1950), 60.
Being a Muslim, ibn-Yahya is keen on telling us that Byzantines

introduced horses into the Great Church; the horses were let loose on
Christian consecrated grounds in order to show, by taking or not taking
the bridles into their mouths, what the outcome of the Christians' war on
Islam would 8 While the horse (also: horseman, or charioteer) was one
be.
of the most powerful Roman images of victory, bridling (or putting on

reins, or a yoke) was a popular metaphor that was used by Byzantine
authors of all epochs when referring to 'barbarians' who were brought
under Roman control, or pagans being brought into the Christian fold.
Obviously, in Arab culture, horsemanship was loaded with similar
symbolism, so ibn-Yahya was able to decode the meaning of the above-
mentioned act.
In his description of Constantinople, ibn-Yahya pays special attention
to statuary art and architecture. Once again, however, he is able only to
partially decipher the meaning of what he saw. Some of the statues which
ibn-Yahya mentions seem to have been regarded as talismans by the city-
dwellers of Constantinople. For example, in the middle of a central city
square, there were two statues which, according to ibn-Yahya, were
'talismans' (maybe talismans against crime): they were said to be able, by
waving their hands, to show which criminal deserved to have his life
spared and which one was to be executed. Ibn-Yahya does not say what
kind of a public ritual was associated with these two statues and how it
fitted with the existing Byzantine legal practices29
Another sculpture, three brassy figures of horses which were a
'talisman for horses', was placed above the gate of the imperial palace
(most probably, above the arch of the Clialke vestibule); its function was to
prevent horses from neighing and fighting each other; it was said to have
been 'made' by the sage Apollonios. Ibn-Yahya mentions this talisman in
connection with the excellent, in his opinion, training of Roman horses
which were very calm and well-behaved during ceremonies 30 For the
29
Vasiliev, 'Harun-ibn-Yahya and His Description of Constantinople', 159-160.
29 Vasiliev,'Harun-ibn-Yahya and His Description of Constantinople', 161.
' Vasiliev, 'Harun-ibn-Yahya and His Description of Constantinople', 160-161. This
'talisman' was, most probably, the group of three horses which was brought, by order of
Justinian I, from the temple of Artemis in Ephesus. Cf. C. Mango, The Brazen House. A Study
of the Vestibule of the Imperial Palace of Constantinople. Arkaeol. Kunsthist. Med. Dan. Vid.
Selesk. 4 (1959), 98-102. It is mentioned by other Arab authors too: while al-Harawi (twelfth
century) believes in its ability to calm down nervous horses, Masoudi (tenth century)
refuses to accept this legend and attributes the tame nature of Roman horses to the hot and
humid climate of Constantinople. Cf. A.A. Vasiliev, 'Quelques remarques sur les voyageurs
du moyen age a Constantinople', in Melanges Ch. Diehl (Paris, 1930), I, 296.
Muslim observer, it was easy to 'understand' the 'magical' functions of

this sculpture for two reasons: (a) the horse, as I mentioned before, seems
to have been a symbol that 'worked' in a similar fashion in both the
Byzantine and Arab cultural contexts; and (b) like the famous Horologion
(which too is mentioned in ibn-Yahya's narrative31), the horse talisman
was believed to have been made by Apollonios.
In the Eastern Mediterranean, Apollonios of Tyana (called Balinds, or
Balinus by Arab authors) was honoured as the 'benefactor of cities'. As
the legends of the 'miracles' performed by this first-century vagrant
philosopher grew and spread throughout the Byzantine and Arab worlds
and, in the course of time, the sage himself turned into something of a
mythological figure, the number of 'works' attributed to him multiplied.
Christians and non-Christians came to share the view that the figures
'made' by Apollonios and scattered throughout most of the Eastern
Mediterranean were, in fact, city talismans capable of warding off evil.32
Apollonios and his talismans thus became 'trans-cultural' signs that
'worked' across the Christian-Muslim cultural and religious border.
Harun-ibn-Yahya's sightseeing of Constantinople altogether deserves
to be subject to a special study. Of particular interest to the student of
symbols are ibn-Yahya's descriptions of the honorific column of
Theodosius/Justinian (which later came to be regarded as a monument to
Byzantine victory over the Saracens) as well as of the numerous figures of
animals and birds, both in the Hippodrome and in a churchyard, whose
symbolism the Muslim observer failed to decipher because of the
different meanings encoded of the same animals and birds in Muslim
culture. For the purposes of the present study, I will briefly mention only
two of all the remaining descriptions of statuary art in Constantinople
which can be found in ibn-Yahya's narrative: these are the famous
Serpent column in the Hippodrome and the Golden Gate in the
Theodosian wall of the city.
The Serpent column seems to have been one of at least two sculptures
in the Hippodrome that were perceived as talismans against snakes 33 In
" Vasiliev, 'Harun-ibn-Yahya and His Description of Constantinople', 160.

Cf. W. Speyer, 'Zum Bild des Apollonios von Tyana bei Heiden and Christen',
Jahrbuch fur Antike and Christentum 17 (1974), 47-63; and W.L. Duli@re, 'Apollonios de
Tyane dans Byzance et Antioche. Evolution de son mythe', Byzantinische Zeitschrift 63
(1970), 247-277. On Apollonios's role as a benefactor of Constantinople, see G. Dagron,
Constantinople imagimire. Etudes sur le recueil des 'Patria' (Paris, 1984), 191-314.
The other talisman protecting the city from snakes was a bronze eagle with a snake
in its claws: Nicetas Choniates, Historia, ed. I van Dieten (Berlin, 1972), 651. In the
the words of ibn-Yahya, these were 'four snakes made of brass whose
tails were in their mouths as a talisman against snakes that they may not
do any harm'.' Ibn-Yahya seems to have taken quite literally the
Byzantine explanation of what the snakes stood for.35 It seems, however,
that the medieval Greeks had endowed the brass snakes with some
additional meaning. As the Byzantine and Slavic medieval works
dedicated to the interpretation of dreams and visions show, the Viper (or
Snake) signifies a Muslim and above all a Saracen.36 In other words, the
Serpent column was probably seen, by the inhabitants of Constantinople,
as a city talisman against Muslim evil as well.
The iconographic type of a Christian emperor in military attire
trampling upon a snake with a human face (that is, upon the Satan) was
widely spread in Late Antiquity.37 This symbol of Christianity's victory
over paganism was borrowed from the ancient ritual of calcatio which
amounted to ritual trampling upon a subdued enemy. Maybe it was not
accidental that this ritual, or some revised version of it, was revived in the
tenth century, under Constantine Porphyrogennetos 38 While Arabs may
have known the meaning of ritual trampling upon a high-ranking
Hippodrome, there was yet another sculpture of a monster-snake, the famous Drakontaion;
this was a replica of a famous sculpture in Rome which was sent to Arcadius by his brother,
Honorius. The Drakontaion, however, does not seem to have been endowed with any
apotropaic functions. Cf. Dagron, Constantinople imaginaire,131, n. 19.
Vasiliev, 'Harun-ibn-Yahya and His Description of Constantinople', 161.
35 In actual fact, the snakes were not four but three. Originally, this column
commemorated the Greek victory over the Persians at Plateia and Salamis in 478 B.C.; it
was erected in Apollo's temple at Delphi; the column owed its serpentine form to the myth
of Apollo thrashing the monster-snake Python. Constantine the Great ordered that this
column, together with some other works of art, be brought to Constantinople: Zosim., II
(Bonn, 1837), 31.1-2; Socrat., 1.16, PG 67, col. 717 A. Cf. Sozomen., 11.5.
V. TApkova-Zaimova and A. Miltenova, Istoriko-apokalipticnata kniznina vav Vizantija
i v srednovekovna Balgarija (Sofia, 1996), 103-104, 216: in the system of Christian symbols,
the Snake stands for the Antichrist (Gen. 3; Isa. 27:1); in the visionary literature, the Snake
symbolizes the infidels (Saracens, Turks, Tartars, etc.) who were enemies of the Christians.
37 On the early Byzantine coins and mosaics displaying this iconographic type, see
Mango, The Brazen House, 23-24.
3a
Cedrenus, ed. I. Bekker (Bonn, 1839), II, 330-331. Cf. McCormick, Eternal Victory,
159-161. In 956, during a triumph celebrated by his general Leo Phokas, Constantine VII
put his foot on the head of a high-ranking Arab, a captured emir kneeling before him.
Cedrenus, however, does not make it clear whether the emperor believed that he was
trampling upon an infidel who personified the Satan-Snake. Upon enduring this public
humiliation, the emir received great honours and lavish gifts from the emperor.
captive," it is not clear whether they were aware of the fact that
Byzantines identified them with the biblical image of the Satan-Snake.
When speaking of Arabs' ability, or willingness, to read into the
symbolic language of Byzantine triumphs, one must mention ibn-Yahya's
description of the Golden Gate. He has faithfully recorded the fact that
this was the gate from which one went to Rome and that it was guarded
by guardians. And further: 'On the gate there are five figures in the form
of elephants and one figure of a standing man who holds the reins of
those elephants.'90 What ibn-Yahya does not say is that the Golden Gate
also played the role of a Triumphal Arch of Constantinople; victorious
generals and emperors followed by their trophies and prisoners entered
the city through that gate." The Roman iconographic type of the
Invincible Sun riding in a chariot which is drawn by four elephants (or
horses) persisted, in Byzantium, as late as the early seventh century.42 The
triumphal chariot drawn by elephants (or horses) was an image that was
certainly known to the Arabs; yet ibn-Yahya does not elaborate on the
symbolic nature of the chariot and the elephants on the Golden Gate.
That Arab authors may have been unwilling to elaborate on the
imagery of Byzantine triumphs could be seen from Masoudi's description
of the same city gate: he admires its beautiful bronze doors43 but does not
say that they were the doors of Mopsuestia, which Nikephoros Phokas
had managed to recapture from the Arabs during his campaigns in the
East.44
" In 260, Emperor Valerian was captured by the Persian King Shapur I. Cf. E.
Kettenhoffen, Die rdmisch-persischen Kriege des 3. Jahrhunderts n. Chr. (Wiesbaden, 1982), 59
and following. Arabs must have known the reliefs at Naqsh-I-Rustam and Bishapur
(Persia) which celebrate Shapur's triumph over the Roman emperor; in these reliefs,
however, it is not the Persian king but his horse that is trampling upon the subdued
Valerian.
'° Vasiliev,'Harun-ibn-Yahya and His Description of Constantinople', 154-155.
41 R. janin, Constantinople byzantine. Developpement urbain et repertoire topographique
(Paris, 1950), 252-255. In reality, the elephants were not five but four; Dagron has recently
proved that they were brought, by order of Theodosius II, from the temple of Ares in
Athens. Cf. Dagron, Constantinople imaginaire, 128, n. 7. The Golden Gate should not be
confused with the Triumphal Arch of Theodosius which was located in the forum Tauri.
A3 H.H. Scullard, The Elephant in the Greek and Roman World (Ithaca, NY, 1974), p1. XXIV
h: coins of the emperors Maurice, Justin II and Phokas.
" Les Praires d'Or, ed. and tr. B. de Meynard and P. Courteille (Paris, 1863), 261.
The same emperor, Nikephoros Phokas, had yet another gate, that of St Barbara,
decorated with trophy doors: these were the doors of the city of Tarsos which he had
recaptured from the Arabs. See Cedrenus (Bonn, 1839), II, 363.
In the tenth century, money, luxury goods, silk and arms made up the
usual Byzantine gifts to important foreigners; in return, emperors and
other high-ranking Byzantines received money, furs, arms, wax, slaves
(including castrated boys), exotic animals and birds, and spices. For
comprehensible reasons, in this article I cannot afford to discuss the
symbolism vested with gifts, or whether both parties were always able to
read into the coded language of the exchanged presents. Other interesting
cases of visitors' understanding, or misunderstanding, of Byzantine
ceremonies in the tenth century are provided by foreigners' reactions to
the performance of proskynesis, the waiting periods which preceded the
audiences with the emperor, and the treatment which the important
visitors' servants and horses received at Byzantine hands.
As I mentioned at the beginning, Byzantines made skilful use of their
guests' understanding, or lack thereof, of the language of Byzantine
ceremonies. It is also important to point out that, whenever Byzantines
wanted to make sure that certain acts of international importance would
not be misinterpreted by foreigners due to the foreigners' lack of
knowledge of Byzantine ceremonies, they resorted to rituals and symbols
borrowed from the foreigners' native culture. For example, as ninth- and
tenth-century sources inform us, in their dealings with pagan Bulgarians
or Russians, Byzantines sealed the mutual oaths of peace by publicly
practising Bulgarian, or Russian, pagan rites which were borrowed from
the barbarians' own culture.
By using a variety of sources, I have tried to shed some additional
light on the question of how far foreigners of various ethnic and religious
backgrounds were able to read into the symbolic language of the tenth-
century Byzantine court ceremonial, public processions, military
triumphs and diplomatic receptions as well as into Byzantine colour and
number symbolism, veneration of 'city talismans', gestures of hospitality,
and so on. The Byzantines' attitude toward foreigners was, no doubt,
ambivalent. At the same time, it would hardly be an exaggeration to say
that the foreigners' attitudes towards Byzantium were ambivalent, too:
foreigners seem to have been intimidated by the Byzantines, they feared
the empire and they hated it; and yet, they were impressed by its riches,
admired its architecture and enjoyed its delicious food.
The present study is not so much the result of unearthing of new texts
or facts as an interpretative shift in the meaning of medieval culture that
has emerged as a consequence of a refocusing from older styles of
cultural history to one that is, in the words of Eugene Vance, 'a science
not of things and deeds but of discourses; an art not of facts but of
encodings of facts'.95 Such studies aim at bringing novel insights into our
understanding of well-known events by helping us see how events
functioned symbolically, and not just practically; and they help us get at
the complex relations between symbolic events and cultural mind-sets, or
mentalites.
45 E. Vance, 'Semiotics and Power: Relics, Icons and the Voyage de Charlemagne a
Jerusalem et a Constantinople', in The New Medievalism, ed. M. Brownlee et al. (Baltimore, MD,
1991), 227.
18. Byzantine conceptions of Otherness
after the Annexation of Bulgaria (1018)*
Paul Stephenson
In 1018 the emperor Basil II extended Byzantine political authority across
the whole Balkan peninsula, and advanced the empire's frontier once
again to the Danube. Bulgarians, at once barbarians and Christians, were
brought within the oikoumene, the civilized world. Even as they were, a
new threat to the integrity of the oikoumene appeared on the northern
bank of the lower Danube: the Pechenegs, fierce steppe nomads who
would prove a consistent threat to the empire's Balkan lands for much of
the eleventh century, and make a profound impact on all who suffered by
their raids and invasions. Only after the battle of Levounion on 29 April
1091 was the threat diminished, and the Pechenegs who had settled
independently within the empire's borders were baptized and resettled in
smaller groups according to the wishes of the emperor Alexios I
Komnenos (1081-1118). The purpose of this paper is to explore how
peoples in the northern Balkans, particularly the Pechenegs and
Bulgarians, were portrayed by Byzantine authors after 1018, and to
consider why.
In the early 1080s, several years before he was appointed as archbishop of

Bulgaria in Ohrid (in modern Macedonia), Theophylact Hephaistos wrote
in praise of the weather in Constantinople, where 'winter does not rebel,
nor rush the frontiers and fall upon us in Scythian fashion, freezing the
blood of living creatures and laying crystalline fetters upon the rivers'.'
I acknowledge with gratitude the support I received from the British Academy and
from Keble College while I was working on this paper. Averil Cameron and Alex Drace-
Francis read drafts and offered welcome advice and encouragement.
1
Theophylacte d'Achrida, I, Discours, traites, poesies, ed. and tr. P. Gautier, CFHB 16/1
(Thessalonike, 1980), 181.5-8. The translation is from Margaret Mullett, Theophylact of
Ochrid. Reading the Letters of a Byzantine Archbishop (Birmingham, 1997), 44. The sentiment,
245
246 PAUL STEPHENSON
His chosen subject is prophetic, for he would later write often and at
length of his exile from Constantinople, and his choice of imagery is
fascinating. The winter outside the most civilized of cities is personified
as the archetypal barbarian, the Scythian, launching sudden raids across
the limits of the oikoumene.
Complementary imagery was used a century later by Gregory
Antiochos, a military functionary posted to Bulgaria who felt sensations
akin to Theophylact's seasonal affective disorder. For Gregory, who
appears to have suffered from acute depression as a consequence of his
feelings of geographical and cultural alienation, disease attacked the
human body as barbarians assaulted the frontiers of the body politic.
Thus, he wrote, 'barbaric illness invades the small town of our body,
takes over the acropolis of the head, takes us alive like prisoners to a
distant land, away from health and beyond the borders'.2
For both Theophylact and Gregory barbarism threatened all aspects of
civilization. It constantly circled the frontiers, the political and conceptual
limits of the Christian Roman Empire, and threatened to fall suddenly
and swiftly upon those not standing vigilant guard. As is now well
known, the notion of the barbarian was articulated in fifth-century
Athens.3 The barbarian was the universal anti-Greek against whom
Hellenic culture was defined. The two identities were polarities and
together were universal: all that was Greek was civilized; all that was
barbarian was uncivilized. There was nothing else. Since Herodotus, the
Scythian was considered the archetypal barbarian, and most northern
peoples were regarded, at various times, to be Early in the Scythians.4
tenth century, the patriarch of Constantinople, Nicholas I Mystikos, wrote

to Tsar Symeon of Bulgaria (c.894-927) to warn him of past or future
if not the exact wording, follows closely Ovid's Tristia. See, for example, Ovid Tristia Ex
Ponto, ed. and tr. A.L. Wheeler (Cambridge, MA, 1953), 68-69, 107-108.
2
J. Darrouzes, 'Deux lettres de Gregoire Antiochos ecrites de Bulgarie vers 1173', I,
BS 23 (1963) 276-284; II, BS 24 (1963), 65-86, at 67.107-10. See also C. Galatariotou, 'Travel
and perception in Byzantium', DOP 47 (1993), 221-241, at 229 (on sickness when leaving
Constantinople), and 237 (Gregory away from the healthy, civilized oikoumene).
' E. Hall, Inventing the Barbarian: Greek Self-Definition through Tragedy (Oxford, 1989).
On universal familiarity with Herodotus see ODB II, 922; N.G. Wilson, Photius. The
Bibilotheca (London, 1994), 8, 15, 42. See also the OED definition of 'archetype': '(in Jungian
psychology) a primitive mental image inherited from man's earliest ancestors, and
supposed to be present in the collective unconscious.' For a full and stimulating treatment
of Herodotian Scythians see F. Hartog, The Mirror of Herodotus. The Representation of the
Other in the Writing of History (Berkeley, CA, 1988).
CONCEPTIONS OF OTHERNESS AFTER 1018 247
assaults by 'Magyars, Alans, Pechenegs, Rus or other Scythian peoples' .5

Symeon, known to his own nobles as 'half-Greek' because of his classical
education in Constantinople, would have understood the allusion, and
would have known that not long before the Bulgarians themselves were
considered Scythians by the Byzantines. The use of the term to refer to
numerous northern peoples alludes both to their origins (as far as the
Byzantines were concerned) in ancient Scythia, and to their way of life,
which resembled that of the Scythians portrayed by Herodotus.
According to Michael Psellos in the mid-eleventh century the Pechenegs
were archetypal Scythians: they had a loose social structure, fought as
individuals (not in ordered regiments), and lived as nomads with swift
horses; worse still, they observed no law and they were pagans.6 It is clear
that Psellos was defining the Pechenegs as the polar opposite of civilized
Byzantines; he was drawing a distinction between stereotypes, between
nature and culture.'
Psellos's contemporary, John Mauropous, produced orations to
celebrated a 'victory' by Constantine IX Monomachos (1042-1055) over
the Pechenegs who had crossed the Danube in 1046/7.8 Victory was not
achieved by the slaughter of barbarians, but by their voluntary
conversion to Christianity after they observed a simple cross in the sky as
5 Nicholas I Patriarch of Constantinople, Letters, ed. L.G. Westerink, and tr. R.J.H.
Jenkins, CFHB 6 (Washington, DC, 1973),160.
6
Michael Psellos, Chronographia, VII.68-9; Chronographie, ou histoire d'un siecle de
Byzance (976-1077), ed. E. Renauld, 2 vols (Paris 1926-1928), II, 126. See also Michaeli Pselli
orationes panegyricae, ed. G.T. Dennis (Stuttgart and Leipzig, 1994), 63, where the Pechenegs
are described as a 'simple nomadic people, who lead an undisciplined (automatizon) life and
do not recognize the higher rule of law'. His descriptions show great similarities with Leo
VI's Taktika on the Magyars and to Maurice's Strategikon on the Avars. See E. Malamut,
'L'image byzantine des Petchenegues', BZ 88 (1995), 105-147, at 121-122. Skylitzes, whose
work was not within the tradition of classicizing history, used contemporary ethnonyms,
and refers to the Pechenegs as 'Patzinakoi'. Nevertheless he presents a similar excursus on
the 'Scythian Pechenegs', who favour life on the hoof and dwell in tents: loannis Skylitzes
Synopsis Historiarum, ed. J. Thurn CFHB 5 (Berlin and New York, 1973), 455. See also A.P.
Kazhdan and Anne Wharton Epstein, Change in Byzantine Culture in the Eleventh and Twelfth
Centuries (Berkeley, Los Angeles and London, 1985), 205.
' C. Levi-Strauss, The Savage Mind (London, 1966), 20, 124-125, 129; E. Leach, Levi-
Strauss (London, 1970), 21, 36, 85, 88, 112-119. See also J. Le Goff, 'Levi-Strauss in
Broceliande. A brief analysis of courtly romance', in his The Medieval Imagination, tr. A.
Goldhammer (Chicago, 1988), 107-131, for an approach to contemporary Western
conceptions of the distinction between nature and culture, and the representation of the
'wild man'.
8 For the date of the invasion see A. Kazhdan, 'Once more the "alleged" Russo-
Byzantine treaty (ca. 1047) and the Pecheneg crossing of the Danube', JOB 26 (1977), 65-77.
248 PAUL STEPHENSON
they crossed the Danube. The barbarians had passed into the Christian
empire and at that moment they witnessed the same sign as had
appeared to the first Christian Roman emperor Constantine, namesake of
Mauropous's hero; immediately they threw down their weapons and
sued for peace.' The orator regarded Constantine TX's greatest victory as
the transformation of wild beasts into men, fierce nature transformed by
orthodox culture. However, the transformation was not total: these
Pechenegs were allowed to live within the frontiers as nomadic
pastoralists and roving border guards; thus they retained characteristics
of a 'Scythian lifestyle' 10
In the turmoil of the' early 1070s the Pechenegs broke their treaty with
the empire and took control of the lands between the Haimos (Balkan
mountains) and the lower Danube. From there they launched frequent
raids south of the mountains, striking deep into Byzantine Thrace.
Theophylact Hephaistos was familiar with the Pechenegs, and with the
widespread terror caused by their raids. In an oration delivered on 6
January 1088, he spoke in praise of Alexios I Komnenos's bloodless
victory over the Pechenegs, referring to a treaty negotiated in autumn
1087. It is clear that at this time Alexios had suffered a significant defeat,
and was obliged to recognize the Pechenegs' independent settlement of
the lands north of the Haimos. Unlike Mauropous, Theophylact does not
dwell on the baptism of barbarians. Their brute nature was transformed,
instead, by the emperor's rhetoric, persuading them to recognize the force
of law. For Theophylact, Alexios was a Homeric hero, now Odysseos
booming, now Menelaos speaking in softer tones, briefly but fluently (II.,
iii.214-222). Beguiling everyone with his rhetoric, he enchanted
philosophers and orators with his sharp wit and the clarity of his speech.
In this way Alexios exposed the Scythians' secret plans, and forced them
to sue for peace. 'Those who previously solved their disputes by spilling
blood, swore their faith in writing and with a treaty.' The emphasis is on
the triumph of imperial order (taxis), in the form of written law (nomos),
over the undisciplined barbarian nature (physis). Once again nature and
culture are explicitly contrasted, and by choosing justice, rather than the
' loannis Euchaitorum metropolitae quae in cod. Vat. gr. 676 supersunt, ed. P. de Lagarde
(Gottingen,1882),142-147, at 145 (§13); J. Lefort, 'Rhetorique et politique: trois discours de
Jean Mauropous en 1047', TM 6 (1976), 265-303, at 266-267.
'° Michaelis Attaliotae historia, ed. I. Bekker, CSHB (Bonn, 1853), 205.
judgement of battle, the enemy were no longer acting entirely as

Scythians.11
So barbarism could be brought within frontiers and modified by the

contacts with the civilized. Even in defeat the civilized could triumph by
the extension of its defining characteristics: by baptism, soothing the
brutish nature of the barbarian; or by treaties, obliging barbarians to
recognize the force of law. Both were the triumph of culture over nature,
and both made the Pechenegs now settled within the oikoumene not
entirely Scythians. It is fascinating to see how imperial rhetoric was
brought to bear on a political reality: the Pechenegs had settled in the
heartland of what had until so recently been the Bulgarian Empire. This
had to be explained, and it had to be lauded. In doing so writers modified
the polarity of civilized and barbarian, allowing for an intermediate
category, the semi-civilized world which was not entirely barbarian.
This was not a unique sentiment. Both Theophylact and Gregory
Antiochos, with whom we began, indicate that barbarism was already
present within the frontiers of the oikoumene, in Byzantine Bulgaria.
Theophylact is notorious - too notorious, Margaret Mullett has recently
demonstrated - for his condescending attitude towards his barbaric
Bulgarian flock, who stank of sheep- or goatskin.12 Gregory was similarly
appalled by the stenches and noises of Bulgaria, by the ethnic preferences
for red meat over fish, and for dressing in animal skins and felt hats.'3 But
the barbarism within Bulgaria was quite different to that without: it had
been modified by years of contact with the civilized, and in particular
with the greatest gifts of civilization: Christianity and law. Thus, in a
further letter to Tsar Symeon, Nicholas Mystikos had acknowledged that,
as fellow Christians, both Bulgarians and Byzantines were Christ's
" Theophylact, Discours, traites, poesies, ed. Gautier, 222-7. On the civilizable
barbarian, see now T. Habinek, The Politics of Latin Literature. Writing, Identihj and Empire in
Ancient Rome (Princeton, NJ, 1998), 151-169.
" Theophylacte d'Achrida, II, Lettres, ed. and tr. P. Gautier, CFHB 16/2 (Thessalonike,
1986), 141; Mullett, Theophylact of Ochrid, 266-274, esp. 270.
13 Darrouzes, 'Deux lettres', I, 279.25-27, 280.70-71. The barbarian love of red meat
was an enduring topos. For example, Rousseau used classical allusions to condemn the
dietary habits of eighteenth-century savages in his Essay on the Origin of Languages: J.J.
Rousseau, The Discourses and other Early Political Writings, ed. V. Gourevitch (Cambridge,
1997), 270, 'To get a notion of the meals of the ancients one need only consider the meals of
present-day savages; I almost said those of Englishmen.' However, Strabo, Geography 7.3.3,
offers a fascinating contrast between carnivorous Scythians and vegetarian Mysians; cf. The
Geography of Strabo, ed. and tr. H.L. Jones, 8 vols (London and New York, 1917-1932), vol.
111, 178. We shall return to Mysians below, 255-256.
250 PAUL STEPHENSON
'peculiar people, his inheritance'. 14 Shortly afterwards, in a speech to

celebrate the marriage in 927 between Tsar Peter (927-969) and Maria
Lekapena, who was the daughter of the ruling emperor Romanos I (920-
944), Theodore Daphnopates declared that the Bulgarians 'are no longer
called Scythian or barbarian ... but may now be named and shown to be
Christians'.15
The History of the Fifteen Martyrs of Tiberioupolis, a work attributed to
Theophylact of Ohrid, expands upon this theme in considering the
conversion of Bulgaria: What was previously not a people but a
barbarian race (ethnos) became and was called a people (laos) of God ...
the Bulgarian people have become, as it is written, a royal priesthood, a
holy nation, a peculiar people.j16 Theophylact stresses the Pauline nature
of the mission by using a Pauline quotation. He is more explicit in his Vita
Clementis (xxii.66), where we find a people called into being and given a
recognized identity through conversion by Clement, 'a new Paul to the
new Corinthians, the Bulgarians'.17 Thus, Theophylact demonstrates a
grudging respect for distinct Bulgarian institutions in the Cyrillo-
Methodian tradition, including the Slavonic language.]' As Obolensky
says: 'A language which serves as a medium for the Christian liturgy
becomes a sacred one. Hence every people which acquires a sacred
tongue is raised to the status of a nation consecrated to the service of God,
with its own legitimate place and particular mission within the family of
Christendom.j19 The Bulgarians had been granted something denied other
northern peoples: a distinct Christian identity, not Roman, but then not
entirely Scythian.
" Nicholas I, Letters, 124.66-69.

15 R.J.H. Jenkins, 'The peace with Bulgaria (927) celebrated by Theodore
Daphnopates', in Polychronion. Festschrift fiir Franz Dolger zum 75 Geburtstag, ed. P. Wirth
(Heidelberg, 1966), 287-303, at 289, 293.
1b Historia martyrii XV martyrum, PG 126, 152-221, at 200-201. For a translation of this
passage and further commentary see D. Obolensky, Six Byzantine Portraits (Oxford, 1988),
71-77; and also see now Mullett, Theophylact of Ochrid, 235-239.
" N.L. Tunickij, Monumenta ad SS Cyrilli et Methodii successorum vitas resque gestas
pertinentia (London, 1972), 66-140, at 126. D. Obolensky, 'Theophylaktos of Ohrid and the
authorship of the Vita Clementis', in Byzantium. A Tribute to Andreas N. Stratos, 2 vols
(Athens, 1986), II, 601-618, has convincingly argued for Theophylact's authorship; also see
now Mullett, Theophylact of Ochrid, 235-239.
"a Although he notoriously parodied Slavonic terms and place-names, Theophylact
knew and used them: see Mullett, Theophylact of Ochrid, 272-273.
" Obolensky, Six Byzantine Portraits, 67.
Certainly, Bulgaria was rustic and rough, and Theophylact

complained that 'having lived for years in the land of the Bulgarians, the
bumpkin lifestyle is my daily companion' 20 The phrase he uses is adapted
from Euripides's Orestes (485) and it is fascinating that Michael Choniates
used the same phrase more literally a century later to describe his
'becoming a barbarian by living a long time in Athens'.?' The Athenians
may have appeared provincial and parochial to their archbishop, but he
certainly did not mean to imply that they were pagan and lawless.
Theophylact's attitude to his own flock was similar, and when he wrote
that he was 'a Constantinopolitan, and, strange to tell, also a Bulgarian', 22
he perhaps considered himself the most refined resident of a second,
lesser oikoumene with an autonomous but inferior church with its own
liturgy and hierarchy. In a letter to the Caesar Nicephoros Melissenos,
Theophylact even coins the phrase 'barbaros oikoumene' to refer to
Bulgaria, and this appears to sum up his attitude of ambivalence and
grudging recognition.
Before Obolensky and Mullett, scholars could not believe that
Theophylact, the author of letters which contained such vitriolic
outbursts against the Bulgarians, was the same man who wrote so
sympathetically about the Bulgarian church and its founding fathers.
Now we can see that the contradictions between Theophylact's
hagiography and letters reflect the inherent contradictions of the two
traditions in Byzantine thought and literature: the precepts of the
orthodox world-view which was ecumenical and hierarchical; and the
classical Greek vision of polarity. And we have also seen that these two
ideas came together in the northern Balkans, which was at once within
the frontiers of the civilized world, but also the realm of barbarians who
were also Christians.
Having said this, as the eleventh century progressed the orthodox
notion of hierarchy ran a poor second to the classical vision of otherness.
It is surely of significance that this development parallels the decline in
the popularity of hagiography even before Theophylact began writing.24
Z0 Theophylact, Lettres, ed. Gautier, 243.17; Mullett, Theophylact of Ochrid, 276;

Obolensky, Six Byzantine Portraits, 58.
Z' Michael Akominatou ton Choniatou to sozomena, ed. S. Lampros, 2 vols (Athens 1879-
1880), II, 44.
Theophylact, Lettres, Gautier, ed., 141.58-60; Mullett, Theophylact of Ochrid, 274.
Theophylact, Lettres, Gautier, ed., 171; Mullett, Theophylact of Ochrid, 274-275, 298.
Although see the qualifications offered by P. Magdalino, 'The Byzantine Holy Man
in the Twelfth Century', in The Byzantine Saint, ed. S. Hackel (London, 1981), 51-66, at 52.
252 PAUL STEPHENSON
Other genres flourished, and we have several collections of letters, an

unrivalled corpus of encomia, and some fine historiography, each
drawing on classical models and language to portray northern peoples.
For example, Niketas Choniates provides a description of the brutish
Cumans, a nomadic people who occupied lands beyond the Black Sea.25
He relies on Ammianus Marcellinus's account of the Huns and the Alans
(XXXI.2), which in turn makes use of Herodotus's excursus on Scythia
(IV.1-144). We are thus confronted with the problem of deciding whether
any of Choniates's information (like that of Psellos more than a century
before) was based on contemporary observation. And if for Choniates
barbarian behaviour was so standardized as to be a topos, John Tzetzes
went a stage further by constructing fictitious ancestries; for example he
drew a direct line between the Kievan Rus and the ancient Taurians 26
For Choniates and Tzetzes, as it had been for Psellos, the first,principle
in selecting an appropriate ethnonym was not contemporary accuracy,
but literary style and the demonstration of erudition. Our picture of the
Balkan peoples is thus presented through Cyril Mango's famous
'distorting mirror'.' But, as Margaret Mullett has written very recently, 'If
we once accept that Byzantine literature is a distorting mirror we must
try to understand (even if we cannot correct) that distortion, because
(apart from a few documentary texts) we have no alternative.' We
cannot be satisfied with the explanation, now universally acknowledged,
that Byzantine authors were composing for each other in an elite code; we
must ask why they did so.
First a proviso: I do not mean to suggest that the use of classical
language and learning was absent before 1018.29 However, as Alexander
Kazhdan has written, 'There was a fundamental change in attitude
u Nicetae Choniatae historiae, ed. J. van Dieten, CFHB 11/1 (Berlin, 1975),94.
26
loannis Tzetzae historiae, ed. P. Leone (Naples, 1969), 463.872-876; Bohumila
Zasterova, 'Zur Problematik der ethnographischen Topoi', in Griechenland - Byzanz - Europa,
eds J. Hermann, H. Kopstein and R. Muller, Berliner byzantinische Arbeiten 52 (Berlin, 1985),
18. An analogous practice, also the result of a quest for continuity and the desire to
establish authority, was the construction of fictitious ancestries for individuals and
aristocratic families.
2' C. Mango, Byzantine Literature as a Distorting Mirror. Inaugural Lecture delivered
before the University of Oxford on 21 May 1974 (Oxford, 1975).
Mullett, Theophylact of Ochrid, 4.
29
Mango's principal examples are from the sixth, tenth and eleventh centuries; Wilson
has emphasized the admiration for Attic Greek from Lucian to Photios: Mango, Distorting
Mirror, 6-7 (Procopius), 10-11 (Psellos), 14-15 (Constantine Porphyrogennetos); Wilson,
Photius. The Bibilotheca, 13-17.
toward ancient culture from the ninth to twelfth centuries. The corpus of
classical literature was gathered and transcribed in the ninth and tenth
centuries; in the eleventh and twelfth centuries the process of assimilation
and reflection began.j30 We must ask, therefore, what were the
motivations for this assimilation and reflection? Why did it manifest itself
in accentuated classicism in eleventh- and twelfth-century Byzantine
literature? And what might it tell us about the attitudes of the authors to
the world around them, both within and beyond the borders of the
oikoumene?31
To answer these questions it is worth considering briefly how another
classically educated member of an elite conceived of and represented
others. In 1784 Count Louis-Philippe de Segur was appointed minister
plenipotentiary and envoy extra-ordinary of Louis XVI to the court of
Catherine II of Russia. As he journeyed from France he passed from the
civilized world into the realm of the barbarian, recording his sentiments
in his Memoires. 'When one enters Poland', he wrote, 'one believes one
has left Europe entirely, and the gaze is struck by a new spectacle ... a
poor population, enslaved; dirty villages; cottages little different from
savage huts; everything makes one think one has moved back ten
centuries, and that one finds oneself amid hordes of Huns, Scythians,
Veneti, Slavs and Sarmatians.'32 Segur was a product of the
Enlightenment, the age which coined the neologism 'civilization', whose
conceptual bounds were the frontiers of Western Europe. Eastern Europe,
which one entered at Poland, was a semi-barbarian hinterland between
civilization and the truly barbaric world of the south Russian steppe; and
like Byzantine authors of the eleventh and twelfth centuries Segur chose
to represent the world of the barbarian in classical terms.
According to Larry Wolff, the notion of Eastern Europe was an
invention of Western Europe, constructed by people of learning and
action like Segur. He proposes the institution of a 'philosophic
geography', a framework of representation designed to dominate,
Kazhdan and Epstein, Change in Byzantine Culture, 136.

C. Mango, Byzantium: The Empire of the New Rome (London, 1980), 237, relates the
change to the re-emergence of cities as centres of learning, contemplation and literary
production. This is a crucial element in the expansion of the empire, and I see no
contradictions between my explanation and his.
32 Louis-Philippe, Comte de Segur, Memoires, souvenirs, et anecdotes, par le comte de
Segur, I, in Bibliotheque des memoires relatif a 1'histoire de France pendant le 18' siecle, ed. M.F.
Barriere (Paris, 1859), XIX, 300. Cited in L. Wolff, Inventing Eastern Europe. The Map of
Civilization on the Mind of the Enlightenment (Stanford, 1994), 19.
254 PAUL STEPHENSON
restructure, and have authority over the uncivilized; and here Wolff
acknowledges his intellectual debt to Edward Said's Orientalism, the
seminal study of this system of thought and practice. In its many guises
Orientalism arises from a sense of cultural superiority, but this sense
arises from insecurity and a consequent desire to regain control through
the imposition of a constraining framework of representation. Therefore
Orientalism is self-referential, having no bearing on the objective reality it
seeks to portray. In many historical contexts we find the learned
attempting to reinforce perceived differences between their civilized
world, a world of erudition and order, and the world of the barbarian.
We also have examples of the articulation of a semi-barbarian hinterland,
somewhere between the civilized and the barbarian. So authors in
eleventh- and twelfth-century Byzantium were not the first, nor would
they be the last, to see Scythians instead of Pechenegs (or Poles). But the
distorted reflection of others in the mirror of Byzantine literature after
1018 was a form of Orientalism specific to the situation in which authors
found themselves.
The accentuated classicism in works of the eleventh and twelfth
centuries was closely related to the increased sense of unease which arose
among the literate elite in Constantinople as they struggled to come to
terms with new economic and political circumstances. The empire had
expanded rapidly and there were new provinces that had to be put in
order and governed; and after an initial period when attempts were made
to put the empire on a peacetime footing, there were suddenly new
external threats on all sides. Theophylact Hephaistos and Gregory
Antiochos were members of the literate elite who were posted as
administrators to the semi-barbarian world of the northern Balkans,
where they encountered Bulgarians and Pechenegs. They wrote of their
experiences and communicated them to friends and colleagues, and in
doing so they forced contemporary places and peoples into an
antiquarian framework. Certainly, they distorted the mirror into which
we now peer for factual information, but their aim in using classical
language was not deliberate obfuscation, but rather to create a veneer of
order and continuity over the disorder and discontinuity they
experienced.33
For others living and writing in Constantinople the restoration of
'Roman' political authority across the whole Balkan peninsula was
unambiguously a good thing; order (taxis) was re-established where
33 Zasterova, 'Zur Problematik', 16-19.

disorder (ataxia) had reigned for centuries. The restoration of the empire's
frontier at the Danube was central to the articulation of continuity with
the ancient world, since the river was regarded as New Rome's 'natural'
frontier in the West, the boundary which should delimit the oikoumene,
and mark the point of transition from the civilized world to that of the
barbarian.34 We have already seen how crossing this line affected the
Pechenegs in 1046-7, and the conceptual boundary had been reinforced
since Byzantine troops first overran Bulgaria and recovered the fortresses
on the lower Danube in 972. In an epitaph to John I Tzimiskes (971-976),
the poet John Geometres remembered the emperor's victories over the
Kievan Rus, recently imperial allies against the Bulgarians, but now once
again truly Scythians sent back across the Danube 35 Geometres also
praised Nikephoros II Phokas (963-969) for extending his reach 'to the
Roman borders in east and west', and for advancing 'the five frontiers' 36
Basil II (976-1025) considered it the emperor's duty to add to imperial
lands, particularly to recover what was rightfully 'Roman' 37 And as he
recovered the former Roman provinces of Dalmatia and Moesia (Superior
and Inferior), authors began to refer to the contemporary inhabitants of
those regions as Dalmatians and Mysians (although not Moesians) 38 In
her Alexiad Anna Komnene refers to the Serbs of Duklja as Dalmatians
and their land as Dalmatia,39 while John Kinnamos refers to the Serbs of
Ras"ka as a 'Dalmatian people'.90 Bulgaria was frequently called Mysia
3a
P. Stephenson, 'The Byzantine frontier at the lower Danube in the late 10th and 11th
centuries', in Frontiers in Question: Eurasian Borderlands c.700-1700, eds D. Power and
Naomi Standen (London, 1999), 80-104. The Euphrates fulfilled the same role in the East
(ODB III, 1797-1798). On the highly politicized notion of 'natural' frontiers see P. Sahlins,
'Natural frontiers revisited: France's boundaries since the seventeenth century', American
Historical Review 95 (1990), 1423-1451.
35
John Geometres, PG 106, 806-1002, at 919-920. A Russian force under Svyatoslav
Igorevich had invaded Bulgaria shortly after campaigning there as imperial allies and
occupied several important cities on the lower Danube.
John Geometres, 902.
Towards the end of his reign Basil issued an edict which recorded that 'among the
many and great benefits which God has lavished upon Our Majesty ... the one preferred
above all else is that there should be addition to the Roman empire'. See J. Zepos and P.
Zepos, eds, lus graecoromanum, 8 vols (Athens, 1931-1962), I, 272. I am grateful to Jonathan
Shepard for drawing my attention to this reference.
38
J Kabaki iev, 'Mysia or Moesia?', Bulgarian Historical Review 23/i (1995), 5-9, for the
origins of this practice and further references.
3'
Anne Comnene, Alexiade, B. Leib, ed., 3 vols (Paris,1937-1945), I, 60,155;11, 166-167.
'eloannis Cinnami epitome rerum ab loanne et Manuelo Comnenis gestarum, ed. A.
Meinecke, CSHB (Bonn, 1836), 12. The use of the name Dalmatia and its geographical limits
256 PAUL STEPHENSON
and the Bulgarians Mysians by Byzantine authors.41 Rarely was this

qualified, as for example in the Short Life of St Clement, where it is
remarked that the saint 'drew his origins from the European Mysians,
who were also known to most people as Bulgarians'. 42 In calling
Bulgarians by the name of an ancient subject people they were not merely
described, they were acquired; the polity which dominated the northern
Balkans for three centuries preceding Basil H's reconquest was denied a
contemporary identity; its distinct origins and development were masked
by a rigid framework of representation. For the same reason Peter and
Asen, the founders of the 'Second Bulgarian Empire', were known
throughout Choniates's account of their insurrection as Mysians.43 This
has provoked a heated and artificial debate between Bulgarian and
Romanian scholars concerned, with their ethnic origins."' Neutral
commentators have attempted to calm the waters by avoiding
commitment. 45 If we restore the references to Mysians to their original
context it is clear that Choniates's concern was not to ascribe an accurate
ethnic tag, but to bolster the empire's facade of immutability. Choniates
was a historian seeking continuity in the discontinuity which followed
the sack of Constantinople in
1204.46
Thus, it is generally clear from the context to which people an author

is referring, and in each case the practice reflects an attempt to categorize
and control the turbulent world that lay to the empire's north and west.
Nevertheless, the Byzantine quest for ethnic continuity has led to
confusion. The compilation of lists of names known as metonomasiai
which accompanied certain texts (notably Constantine Porphyrogen-
netos's De Thematibus) suggests that as early as the thirteenth century
in this period have been the subject of some discussion: see J. Ferluga, 'Dalmatien -
Wandlung eines verwaltungsgeographischen Terminus in den byzantinischen Quellen des
12 Jahrhunderts', in, Europa Slavica - Europa Orientalis. Festschrift fiir K. Ludat, eds K.D.
Grothusen and K. Zernack (Berlin, 1980), 341-353.
" For example, Leonis Diaconi Caloensis historiae libri decem, ed. C. B. Hase, CSHB
(Bonn, 1828), 103; Skylitzes, ed. Thurn, 385, 399.
"2 A. Milev, Grutskite zhitiyana Kliment Ohridski (Sofia, 1966), 174-182, at 174; cited by
Obolensky, Six Byzantine Portraits, 12.
" Choniates, 369, for the appearance of Peter and Asen.
4'
For example, S. Brezeanu, '«Mesiens" chez Nicetas Choniate. Terminologie
archaisante et realite ethnique m@dievale', Etudes byzantines et post-byzantines 2 (1991), 105-
114, who argues for Choniates's 'correct' application to the Romanian Vlachs.
"5 C.M. Brand, Byzantium Confronts the West, 1180-1204 (Cambridge, MA, 1968), for
example at 88-89, refers to 'Vlach-Bulgars'.
"b On the context for Choniates's composition see P. Magdalino, The Empire of Manuel I
Komnenos 1143-1180 (Cambridge, 1993), 4-14.
readers required clarification of who was called what, now and then."
Modem observers have similarly sought exact and consistent translations
for ancient names, attempting to correct rather than understand the
distortion. Such corrections often introduce modem concerns and
prejudices which act as further barriers to understanding.
When he identified the distorting mirror of Byzantine literature in
1974 Cyril Mango believed that the task of the historian was 'to sift out all
the antiquarian passages before he obtains a residue that may be
applicable to the [appropriate] century'. While the historian seeking facts
about peoples in the northern Balkans after 1018 may still operate in this
way, finding the distortion a hindrance, the historian seeking insights into
the attitudes of Byzantine authors as their society confronted new and
real threats may find that the mirror is an asset. Moreover, dealing with
distortion is a problem Byzantine historians share with historians of other
periods and places, which is also an asset in so far as it invites us to
consider life beyond medieval Constantinople - something Byzantinists
often seem as unwilling to do as the people with whom they are
principally concerned.
" A. Diller, 'Byzantine lists of old and new geographical names', BZ 63 (1970), 27-42.
Mango, Distorting Mirror, 15, called the De Thematibus 'an extraordinary mosaic of snippets,
most of which have no relevance to the tenth century'.
19. Afterword by an Art Historian
Robin Cormack
The art historian who is offered an afterword on a symposium about the
Byzantine outsider is likely to feel out of place. Is not Byzantine art one
medium within the culture which entirely colluded with the cultural elite
to communicate the 'norm', the centre, the insider? Is it not so often
treated as the vehicle of 'official' attitudes that to suggest that art acts as
more than a definition of the conventions of the 'establishment' might
seem a perverse exercise? Byzantine art so regularly features as the
'orthodox' art of the Orthodox church, and is assumed so naturally to be
state art, that any question of 'otherness' might seem out of place. In
exploring how far the papers in this volume might be able to subvert this
traditional art historical attitude, it will be useful to ask first how the
contributing art historians treated the issues, and then move on to the
cultural historians.
Lyn Rodley treats 'other' as art in the provinces rather than the capital;
but she finds it is operating in the same way. By pragmatically listing a
number of examples where patrons of churches are self-referentially
represented in their churches, she asks whether there is any difference in
the imagery used in the provinces from that in the capital; and finds
none. Even if the artists working on the fringes of the empire in north
Greece or in Cappadocia are different people from those employed in the
capital, they collude with the dominant elite in their use of visual
conventions. They represent power and status in the same way. Indeed in
the case of Neophytos at Paphos who is included in this survey, the artist
of the wallpaintings of the Enkleistra which were executed in 1183 has
been widely accepted as a painter trained in Constantinople. The fact that
Theodore Apseudes recorded his name in the paintings on the wall has
been seen as a reflection of the new practices of Constantinopolitan
259
260 ROBIN CORMACK
artists.' Only geographical location distinguishes the centre from the

periphery.
Nancy Seveenko treats the question in a different way and looks at the
representation of the 'other'. She treats as the 'other' not the hermit in the
desert, but his environment and his relationship with his everyday
companions, the wild and dangerous animals around him. The desert
fathers co-existed with nature and found a Christian way of life which
included safe cohabitation with lions and other threatening beasts. What
is explored here is the dichotomy between culture and nature, and the
portrayal of the differences. But again the pictorial strategies are the
conventional ones and the lions are entirely recognisable as wild beasts -
they are not anthropomorphised.
One might therefore raise the question how far art historians in
treating the question of the 'other' can go beyond the investigation of its
representation. Is this an issue of the art historian using pictures as
windows instead of using them as artefacts in their own right?2 How far
is a patron like Neophytos at Paphos using the conventions as part of a
subversive exercise to transform himself from an outsider into an insider?
Put in this way, one notices that the modem literature on Neophytos has
indeed treated him as a provincial oddity and eccentric, witnessed for
example by the representation of himself as ascending to Heaven, like
Christ, an image which has no parallel in Byzantine art 3 Yet while the
cycle of paintings which Theodore Apseudes carried out may be an
individual and personal attempt to communicate the place of Neophytos
in the Christian order of things, Neophytos successfully emerges in his
portrayal as a Byzantine insider and his use of art was conventional in its
strategies, even if not in its individual choice of imagery and its
arrangement in a church space. The community of monks who sub-
sequently worshipped in the Enkleistra and viewed the images were
equally transformed from membership of a rural and provincial cave-
monastery into a regular establishment with a saint for its first abbot. It
was the power of art and its traditional conventions which both
promoted Neophytos as a saint and acted to regularise the community
within the conventions. Unlike his western contemporary, St Francis of
' C. Mango and E.J.W. Hawkins, 'The Hermitage of St Neophytos and its Wall
Paintings', DOP 20 (1966), 119-206.
2
The imagery is used of text by J. Davidson, Courtesans and Fishcakes, (London, 1997),
especially xxiv ff.
3 R. Cormack, Writing in Gold (London, 1985), 215-51.
AFTERWORD BY AN ART HISTORIAN 261
Assisi, neither the decoration nor the cave monastery environment

attempted to reach out to the people on the fringes of society.
Similarly the various types of group patronal images are seen in
Rodley's paper to work within the established conventions. Male patrons
with their families make it visually evident that the wife is the 'other' in
the relationship. For the art historian to confront the 'other' becomes in
part a question of methodology, and of examining how Byzantine visual
arts carry meanings, both within the culture and for us - as of course the
outsiders. A recurring fallacy in this field of study is that the modem
'Orthodox Christian' scholar has a privileged 'insider' view of the
Byzantine world which must be inherently superior to the analysis of the
'outsider' historian from another background. The fallacy is to ignore that
all historians have different advantages and disadvantages in their
attempts to visualise the past, and it is in this difference that the dynamic
of history resides. The question explored in this volume is how far the
concepts of insider and outsider can be justifiably attached to the culture.
Several of the historical papers set up ways of handling this question.
Liliana Simeonova treats texts in different languages of the ninth and
tenth centuries as evidence of the ways in which the public ritual and
symbolic displays of Constantinople might be misunderstood by
foreigners (the 'other'). This gives specific clues to the areas in which
decoding was difficult for those with different cultural and religious
backgrounds. She also gives examples where the Byzantines themselves,
acting on the basis of their own acquired knowledge of foreign customs,
adapted their symbolic messages to harmonise with the anticipated
perceptions of foreigners. The methodology of her paper is to analyse
what the symbolic codes were, and to distinguish between foreigner and
Byzantine by their expertise in reading them. A qualification here is that
we cannot assume that the codes were themselves without ambivalence,
or that all Byzantines would read them in similar ways. The dichotomy of
insider/ outsider does not necessarily coincide with foreigner/Byzantine,
as there must have been diversity of thinking between individuals and
groups who resided in the capital.
This issue of the nature of the 'multiculturalism' of Constantinople is
examined by Paul Magdalino, especially with reference to the twelfth
century, arguing that around 1200 was a time of exceptional insularity in
the attitudes of the inhabitants of the city. He argues that at face value
Constantinople was a homogeneous community, which as New Rome
gave its citizens the title of Romaioi. Yet underneath the facade the
population was multifarious and always in flux. It was the 'place where
262 ROBIN CORMACK
outsiders became insiders'. An alien who saw this was Michael

Attaleiates whose elevation to insidership was publicly asserted in his
membership of 'the senatorial aristocracy, a senior judge loaded with
public honours'. Yet this case, no doubt repeated in many others, shows
the subjective nature of our terminology. The emperor above all might fit
this pattern of an outsider becoming an insider; yet he might feel himself
always to be an outsider in the court. The 'loneliness of power' is the
traditional description of any ruler as powerful as the Byzantine emperor.
The infinite regress in our terms is signalled by Margaret Mullett, in
suggesting that all Byzantines were outsiders, exiled from Paradise, and
by John McGuckin who reminds us that xeniteia (detachment?) is an
ingredient of the monastic life discussed in the Heavenly Ladder of John
Klimakos. On this evidence we might be able to define 'foreigner' from
external information, but to be an 'outsider' is in part a psychological
state, which may not necessarily have recognisable external signs.
The embedded ambivalence between foreigner/Byzantine and
outsider/insider dichotomies emerges again when David Jacoby sets out
the evidence of Byzantine and Western traders. The paradox suggested is
that the decision of Alexios I Komnenos to give sweeping trade and
maritime privileges to Venice in 1082 had the consequence that the
western trader in the empire, and particularly in Constantinople, was the
insider. The Byzantine traders, although in the majority, had fewer
privileges and exemptions, and were effectively the outsiders. The
frustration and resentment felt on the Byzantine side accounts for the
increasingly violent rhetoric against traders and westerners. Magdalino
and Jacoby easily found authors producing all the stereotypes of the
greedy trader and hostile expressions of ethnic and cultural difference. In
the case of traders, then, a functional definition would define the
foreigners as insiders; it is other aspects that allowed the Byzantines to
continue to see themselves as the 'real' insiders.
Another group in the empire, forming perhaps one per cent of the
population of Constantinople according to Nicholas de Lange, was the
Jews. It has been argued in an art historical study by Corrigan that there
was extensive verbal and visual polemic against the Jews in the ninth-
century Khludov Psalter, and that this was because they were regarded
as a threat.' She argues that their facial appearance was distorted and
caricatured to be recognisably 'Jewish'. It follows from the scepticism of
' K. Corrigan, Visual Polemics in the Ninth-Century Byzantine Psalter, (Cambridge,

1992), 43-61.
AFTERWORD BY AN ART HISTORIAN 263
de Lange that 'clothing and customs apart, there was nothing in the
physical appearance or physiognomy of the Jews that distinguished them
from the gentiles', that the Byzantine artists were producing a pictorial
and symbolic image of the 'other' rather than mirroring reality. This
would seem to offer a case of the artefact constructing and
communicating the idea. Nevertheless the Jews do offer us a specific case
of an ethnic group within a complex empire, whose religion taught that
they, and not the Orthodox Christians, would at the end of time be the
triumphant people of God.
Whereas the historical analysis of texts helps to illuminate the
complexities of the population of Byzantium and their perceptions of the
foreign, the literary picture as analysed in this volume creates a wider
frame. It is however complicated by the question of genre or mode, and
how those genres and modes were used within the historical
circumstances of specific periods in Byzantine history. The understanding
of the different productions of Procopius, according to Geoffrey Greatrex,
involves exploring a balance between the fashionable attitudes of his
period and the conventions of classicising historiography. In this
scenario, Procopius was not a lone critic of the reign of Justinian, but
might appear so, since he happened to choose to give a critical account of
the events of his own lifetime and died before his views became
repeatable in public (as they soon did in the next reign with its backlash
against Justinian). Procopius, it follows, must be treated in a very
different way from a later writer such as Michael Psellos in whose life the
turnover of emperors was rapid enough to protect the critical writer from
social isolation.
For Charlotte Roueche, the text known as 'The Strategikon of
Kekaumenos' matches the rhetoric of the visual arts of the Middle
Byzantine period in its aim to convey to the world at large the claims of
Byzantium to represent unchanging good order (taxis). Similarly the
materials reviewed by Jane Baun show that the literary expression of the
supposed circumstances in which the soul existed after death changed in
the period of the ninth to eleventh centuries, although it involved the
reworking of the Late Antique genre of Jewish and Christian literature of
the 'tour of hell'. Such a literature of the description of dreams and near-
death experiences must be innately moralising and a powerful tool of the
social construction of the insider and outsider at the moment of its
production. The various versions of the poem of Digenis Akritis and the
question whether they can be related to an 'original' model are covered
by Elizabeth Jeffreys both as a way of illuminating the concept of an
264 ROBIN CORMACK
outsider hero operating on the eastern frontier lands between the

Christian and Islamic world and also as an example of a way of using
literature in twelfth-century Constantinople to evoke a Byzantine
presence in the east. Perhaps the most complex imagery of all the twelfth-
century literature is in the novels covered by Roderick Beaton, in which it
is again emphasised that the modem reader must distinguish the
Byzantine narrative patterns from those of the Hellenistic models which
he behind this genre.
The outcome of this symposium was to splinter the monolithic image
of Byzantium, yet its exploration of its parts did not construct any clear
categories of who might be insiders and who might be outsiders. The
terms themselves became central to the discussion. Did this mean that
Byzantium was a society where the insider/outsider dichotomy was
irrelevant, or was it that the papers add up to a deconstruction of the
concept?
Index
Abraham ben Isaac ben Moses, 114 Brown, Peter, 7, 28

Adshead, Katherine, 221 Bryennios, Nikephoros, caesar, 151
Aeneas of Gaza, 40 Bryer, Anthony, 19
Agathias, 16,220 Bulgaria, 245-257 passim
Alexian Komnenian Muses, 9 seen as barbaric, 249
Alexios I Konmenos, emperor, 3,17, and as Christian, 250
134, 151, 245, 248, 262 Byzantine literary names for, 255-6
Alexios III Angelos, emperor, 132, 135 Burton-Christie, Douglas, 28
Ammianus Marcellinus, 217, 220, 252 Byzantine apocalypses
Anastasia, Apocalypse of, 47-60 passim Apocalypse of Anastasia, 57-60
Andrew the Fool, St, 50, 56, 154 Apocalypse of the Theotokos, 52-7
Anglo-Saxon penitentials, 25 the 'tour of hell' as genre, 49
Ankori, Zvi, 110 Byzantine art, 259-61
Antiochos, Gregory, 246, 249, 254 as 'orthodox' art, 259
Antony, St, 76 Byzantine asceticism, 40-45
Apokaukos, John, 161 Byzantine canon law
Apollonios of Tyana, 240 women, attitudes towards, 87-103
Apophthegniata, 27, 35, 37 Byzantine court ceremonial, 233-8
Apseudes, Theodore, as artist, 259, 260 Byzantine literacy, 17
Aristenos, Alexios, 88-9 Byzantine monasticism
Aristotle, Rhetorica, 153, 156 and wildlife, esp. lions, 75-86
Athanasios I, patriarch, 137 in the Egyptian desert, 28
Athanasios the Athonite, St, 155 fasting, 64-66, 72
Athos, Mount, 71 its golden age, 44
Attaleiates, Michael, 152, 262 prayer and logismoi, 42
Byzantine novels, 179-88
Baalbek, Oracle of, 222 Byzantine sexual mores, 67-70
Bakhtin, Mikhail, 180-188 passim Byzantine silk industry, 131-3 passim
Balsamon, Theodore, 87-103 passim, 150 Byzantine snobbery, 134
barbarians, 229 Byzantine surnames, 156-7
seen as Scythians, 246-7 Byzantine symbolism, 233-8 passim
as polar opposite of civilisation, 247 Byzantine traders, 129-47
Barth, Frederick, 15 Byzantium
Basil exile in, early concepts of, 24-38 passim
Basil II, emperor, 132, 208, 245, 255 definition of 'Byzantine', 19
Basil of Caesarea, St, 12, 30, 98, 99 mutilation, attitudes towards, 56-7
Basil the Younger, St, 50 usurpation as way of life, 5, 7
Baun, Jane, 263 women, attitudes towards, 87-103
Beaton, Roderick, 263 passim
Benjamin of Tudela,106,107,109
Blastares, Matthew, 295 Cairo Genizah,112,115,130
Brooten, B.J., 20 Cameron, Averil, 221
265
266 INDEX
Camus, Albert, 47 Daphnopates, Theodore, 250

Cappadocia, its churches, 164, 165 de Beauvoir, Simone, 1
Belisirma, 166 de Lange, Nicholas, 16, 262
(iavunn,170 de Segur, Louis-Philippe, 253
GSreme valley, 167 Democritus the Philosopher, 31
Chalkis, Romaniote tombs in, 119 Diadochos of Photike, 40-44 passim
Cheynet, J.-C., 5 Didymos, 27
Choniates, Michael, 150, 161, 251 Diegesis Merike, 71-2
Choniates, Niketas, 137, 138, 150, 151, 161, Digenis Akritis, 189-202,263
252, 256 and Corinth plate, 15
Chrysoberges, Loukas, patriarch, 91 and proto-Digenis, 201
Clement of Alexandria, St, 31, 42 synopsis of versions G and E, 191
Constantine DC Monomachos, emperor, 247 Dio Cassius, 212
Constantine V, emperor, 56,158 Diognetos, Letter to, 31, 34
and refoundation of Constantinople, Doukaina, Irene, 63
159 Drosilla and Charikles, 183
Constantine VII Porphyrogennitos, Dvin, 206
emperor, 16, 233, 235, 241, 256
Constantine VII, emperor, 230 Ecloga, 56
Constantine VIII, emperor, 132 Egeria, 30
Constantinople, its monuments Epstein, Ann, 15
Chora monastery, 172 Eunapios of Sardis, 218
Euphemia, St, 172 Euripides, Orestes, 251
Golden Gate, 242 Eusebios of Caesarea, 42
Great Praetorium, 235 Eustathios Makrembolites, 183
Kalenderhane Can-ii,172 Eustathios of Thessalonike, 107,150
Myrelaion, church of, 172 Evagrios Pontikos, 27,32-5 passim, 40,
Pantokrator, monastery of, 149 220, 221
the Pera Jewry, 106 his Discourses (Logoi), 34
Peribleptos, monastery of, 5 Evaristos, St, 155
serpent column in Hippodrome, 240-41 exile
Theotokos Kecharitomene, nunnery of, early Byzantine concepts of, 24-7
63 passim
Constantinople and xeniteia, 27
its high cuisine, 232-3
its 'multiculturalism', 149-62, 261 Foucault, Michel, 20
the Muslim experience of, 232-44 passim
its refoundation by Constantine V, 159 Gabras family as patrons, 13-14
traders in, 132-47, passim Galatariotou, Catia, 7, 200
Corippus, 220 Genoese traders, 142, 145
Corrigan, K, 262 Gerasimos, St, and the lion, 82
council Germanos II, patriarch, 150, 152
Fourth Lateran (1215), 107 Gould, Graham, 28-30
in Trullo, 88, 90, 96, 98, 100, 109 Greatrex, Geoffrey, 263
Crostini Lappin, Barbara, 45 Gregoras, Nikephoros, 137
Cumans, 252 Gregory of Cyprus, patriarch, 137
Cyprus:, 164 Gregory of Nazianzos, 27, 34
Panagia Phorbiotissa, church of, 170 Gregory of Nyssa, 27, 94
St Neophytos at Paphos, hermitage of, Gregory the Great, Pope, St, 44
165, 259, 260
St Demetrios, church of, 166 Hagia Glykeria, island of, 149
Cyril of Phileotes, St, 16 Halperin, D., 20
Cyril of Scythopolis, St, 75, 77-9 passim, Harold Hardrada, 210
81-82, 85 Hebrew, (continues over the page)
INDEX 267
Hebrew Kastoria (continued)

and Bible translations, 116-17 Jewish community in, 15
and Byzantine Jews, 111-18 Mauriotissa, church of, 15
epitaphs, 121-4 passim Kataskepenos, Nicholas
Helladikos, Paul, 68-70 Life of Cyril of Phileotes, 16
and Eutropios the eunuch, 69 Kazhdan, Alexander, 161, 208, 252
Heracleios, 154 Kekaumenos:, 204-9
Herodotus, 217, 252 and Demetrios Polemarchios, 207
hesychia, 32 attitudes towards foreigners, 209-14
homosexuality Khludov Psalter, 262
and Byzantine Studies, 20 Kinnamos, John, 137,255
hints of in monasticism, 67-70 komnterkiarioi,140-41
Hosios Loukas, St, 86 Komnene, Anna, 2, 5,15, 21,137, 255
Hysmine and Hysminias, 183-8 Komnene, Eudokia, 62,72
Komnenos, John, 154
Ibn Yahya, Harun, as outsider, Kosmas Indikopleustes, 9
232-44 passim Kosmas the Monk, vision of, 55
Irene of Hungary, St, 16 Kosmosoteira, monastery of, 63
Isaac, sebastocrator, 62 Krausmuller, Dirk, 13
Isaiah of Trani, 109 Kristeva, Julia, 21
Jacoby, David, 3, 106, 161, 262 Larissa, 208

James, Liz, 19 Lazaros of Galesion, St, 13
Jeffreys, Elizabeth, 263 Lemniotes, Theodore, as donor, 168
Jerome, St, 80, 82 Leo III, emperor, 56
Jewish religion Leo VI, emperor, 87, 230, 235
Karaites vs Rabbanites, 110-11 Leontios of Jerusalem, 155
Jewish traders, 133-47 passim Levinas, E., 1-2
Jews Liutprand of Cremona, 231
in Byzantine art, 262--3
as ethnic group in Byzantium, 15, Magdalino, Paul, 19, 261
105-18,132 Makrembolitis, Alexios, 137
and Exile of Israel, 26, 30 Malchos of Philadelphia, 218
Romaniote tombs in Chalkis, 119-24 Manasses, Constantine, 130
John Chrysostom, 4 Mango, Cyril, 252, 256
John Geometres, 255 Manuel I Komnenos, emperor, 135, 138
John Italos, 2 and Digenis Akritis, 201-2
John of Antioch, 221, 224, 226 Maria Lekapena, 250
John of Cappadocia, 218 Maria of Alania, 4
John of Ephesus, 114 Mauropous, John, 130, 161, 247
John of Patmos, St, monastery, 139 Maximos, 44
John of Phoberou, 61-73 McGuckin, John, 7,262
John of Sinai (John Klimax), St:, 37 Melissenos, Nikephoros, caesar, 251
Sacred Ladder, 23, 27, 33-34, 262 Menander Rhetor, 220
John the Lydian (John Lydos), 215, 223, 225 Mesarites, Nicholas, 154
Jordanes, 157 Messalianism, 42, 44
Josephus Flavius, 113 Metochites, Theodore, as donor, 173
Judah Hadassi, 113 Michael II Komnenos Doukas, emperor, 24
Justin II, emperor, 220 Michael VII Doukas, emperor, 4, 204
Justinian I, emperor, 87, 154, 158 Mistra, Hebrew epitaphs at, 121
Momigliano, Arnaldo, 220
Kaiserkritik, criticism of, 220-3 Morris, Rosemary 49
Kastoria, 164 Moschos, John, St, 80, 82-84 passim
Anargyroi, church of, 168 Mullett, Margaret, 193, 249, 251, 252, 262
268 INDEX
Naupaktos, civic pride in, 161 Romanos I, emperor, 154, 250

Neophytos of Cyprus, St, 6, 7 Roueche, Charlotte, 7,263
Neo-Stoicism, 31, 37 Rousseau, P., 29-30
Nicholas I Mystikos, patriarch, 246, 249 Rubin, Berthold, 220-21
Nicholas III Grammatikos, patriarch, 62 Rus, 252
Nikephoros II Phokas, emperor, 170, 237, Russian Primary Chronicle, 233-4
255
Nikephoros III Botaneiates, emperor, 4, 62, Said, Edward, 2, 254
72 Nancy, 14,260
Nikephoros of Miletos, St, 155 Simeonova, Liliana, 261
Niketas Eugeneianos, 183 Sirach, Wisdom of
Nikodemos of the Holy Mountain, St: and Kekaumenos, 213
Philokalia, 43 Skepides family as donors, 167
Nomokanon of Fourteen Titles, 88-9, 96 Skylitzes
Madrid MS, 6
Obolensky, Dimitri, 250, 251 family of, 156
Olga, princess of Kiev, 233-5 Spon, doctor, 119
Orientalism, 254 Strohm, Paul, 53
Origen, 26, 27, 30 Symeon of Bulgaria, tsar, 246, 249
Symeon the New Theologian, St, 6, 7, 43,
Pachomios, 29 155
Pachymeres, George, 130 Szyszman, 5,110
Palladius, 30, 79
Patlagean, Evelyne, 50, 56 Tacitus, 220, 221
Patras, 119 Thebes
patronage Euthymios Tornikes on, 161
and donor images, 165-73 passim and silk industry, 131
Paul Evergetinos, 43 Thedosios II, emperor, 218
Pechenegs, 245-55 passim Theodora of Arta, St, 24
Peter of Bulgaria, tsar, 250 Theodora of Thessalonike, St, 13
Philaretos the Merciful, St, 49 Theodore of Petra
Philippos Vistariti, 144-5 Life of St Theodosius, 225
Philo, 26, 111, 113 Theodoret of Cyrrhus, 84
Philotheos, 237 Theophylact of Ohrid, 21, 245,
Photios, 213 248-251 passim, 254
Pisan traders, 142 Theopompus, 217
Pisans in Constantinople, 136 Theotokos Evergetis, monastery of, 43, 62
Prespa lakes Theotokos, Apocalypse of the, 48-60 passim
Panagia Eleousa, chapel of, 171 Thucydides, 217
Priscos, 218 Tinnefeld, Franz, 220
Procopius of Caesarea, 215-28 passim, 263 Tobias ben Moses, 112
Prodromos, Theodore, 183 Todorov, Tzvetan, 229
Psellos, Michael, 247,263 Trapp, Erich, 190
Pseudo-Isocrates Tryphon, patriarch, 17
and Kekaumenos, 213 Turner, Victor, 15
Ptochoprodromos, 14 Tzetzes, John, 16, 133, 139, 150, 151, 252
Tzimiskes, John,170, 255
Revel-Neher, Elisabeth, 107-8
Rhodanthe and Dosikles,183 Venice, 132
Richards, Jeffrey, 3 traders in Constantinople, 132-47
Richlin, A, 20 passim, 262
Rodley, Lyn, 259 Veria
Rohde, Erwin, 181 Anastasis, church of, 169
Romaniote tombs in Chalkis, 119-24 Vita Basilii, 152
INDEX 269
Vlachs, 210-12 xeniteia, 23-38 passim, 192-3

Xenos Psalidas, as donor, 169
Weber, Thomas, 232 Xiphilinos, John, 204
Wheler, George, 119 Xylinites, Niketas, 156
William of Tyre, 136
Wilson, Colin,1 Zeitler, Barbara, 4
Wolff, Larry, 253 Zonaras, John, 88-103 passim, 149, 223, 225
Wolff, Robert Lee, 212 Zosimos, 218, 226

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STRANGERS THEMSELVES:

THE BYZANTINE OUTSIDER

Papers from the Thirty-second Spring Symposium of Byzantine

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a

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This volume is printed on acid-free paper.

SOCIETY FOR THE PROMOTION OF BYZANTINE STUDIES - PUBLICATION 8

Editor's Preface vii

Margaret Mullett The 'Other' in Byzantium 1

2. John McGuckin Aliens and Citizens of Elsewhere:

Janet Rutherford Byzantine Asceticism - a Stranger

4. Jane Baun Middle Byzantine 'Tours of Hell':

5. Robert H. Jordan John of Phoberou: a Voice Crying

6. Nancy Sev cenko The Hermit as Stranger in the Desert 75

7. Joelle Beaucamp Exclues et alienees: les femmes dans la

8. Nicholas de Lange Hebrews, Greeks or Romans? Jewish

9. Hanna Jacobsohn The Enigma of the Romaniote

10. David Jacoby The Byzantine Outsider in

11. Paul Magdalino Constantinople and the Outside

12. Lyn Rodley Patron Imagery from the

13. Roderick Beaton The World of Fiction and the

14. Elizabeth Jeffreys Akritis and Outsiders 189

15. Charlotte Roueche Defining the Foreign in Kekaumenos 203

16. Geoffrey Greatrex Procopius the Outsider? 215

17. Liliana Simeonova Foreigners in Tenth-Century

18. Paul Stephenson Byzantine Conceptions of Otherness

19. Robin Cormack Afterword by an Art Historian 259

As symposiarch of the thirty-second Spring Symposium - outsider by name

I envisioned 'Strangers' as an exploration of the ways in which the

Plate 9.1: General View of the Romaniote Tombs at Chalkis 125

Plate 9.2: Detail of one of the Romaniote Tombs at Chalkis

Plate 9.3: Detail of Hebrew Inscription of one of the Romaniote 127

Plate 9.4: Detail of Hebrew Inscription of one of the Romaniote 128

Plate 12: 1 St Demetrios (Dali) (drawing: Lyn Rodley) 175

Plate 12:3 Karaba Kilise (Soganli) (drawing: Lyn Rodley) 175

Plate 12:4 Karanhk Kilise (Goreme) (drawing: Lyn Rodley) 176

Plate 12:5 Holy Anargyroi (Kastoria) (drawing: Lyn Rodley) 176

Plate 12:7 Pigeon House Church (drawing: Lyn Rodley) 177

Plate 12:10 Chora Monastery (Constantinople) 178

these male Byzantines? Or did female Byzantines collude in their ascribed

neither his defective pronunciation nor the clipping of sounds

He fares no better in the Timarion where Pythagoras snubs him and he

The organizers of the symposium set a visual puzzle, by choosing as

Nikephoros Botaneiates, he describes himself in a message to the

Al., III.i.1, ed. Leib, I, 103-104.

frequently used source of our most cherished visualizations of the

32 See Cohen's discussion, Self Consciousness, 80-90, of recent reassessment of John

the initiation or installation rituals which are imperial ceremony.39 What

J9 Classically M. Fortes, 'On installation ceremonies', Proceedings of the Royal

twelfth-century letter-writers in Byzantium' we see that there seem to be

At that suit of armour the Celt trembles,