Byzantium: The Surprising Life of a Medieval Empire

by Judith Herrin

  From the beginning of Constantine IV’s reign, Constantinople was assaulted by persistent Arab attacks; in a five-year campaign, the besiegers wintered at Kyzikos and engaged the Byzantine navy every summer. In these battles ‘Greek fire’ was first used effectively to destroy enemy ships. Finally, in 678, Constantine IV turned the tide of Muslim conquest, not only by demonstrating how strongly defended his capital was, but also by persuading the Mardaites, independent mountain tribesmen of Lebanon, to attack the Arabs. He imposed a thirty-year peace treaty on Caliph Mu’awiya, who agreed to pay a yearly tribute of 3,000 gold pieces, fifty captives and fifty thoroughbred horses. In this way, the emperor ended what had seemed like an unstoppable campaign against the empire, although Caliph ‘Abd al-Malik (685–705) would later resume attacks. Constantine IV negotiated favourable arrangements with the Lombards in Italy, and the Avars in central Europe, and restored good relations with Rome. By removing his brothers from authority, he insisted that his son Justinian II should succeed him.

  This turning point in Arab–Byzantine relations allowed Constantine IV to shift attention from the Muslim threat to the very different one posed by the Slavs in the western provinces. Although they too were capable of besieging major cities, they tended to settle on productive agricultural land in groups identified by Theophanes as Sklaviniai. Their gradual infiltration throughout the Balkans had forced many indigenous communities to flee to fortified cities, mountain tops and islands. In 584, Monemvasia, the city ‘with one entrance’, was established on a rocky outcrop linked to the Peloponnese by a causeway. The population of Argos fled to Orove, an island in the Saronic Gulf, and the inhabitants of Patras sailed across the sea to Sicily. Both the degree of Slavonic settlement, which can be traced through place-names and archaeological evidence, and its time-scale remain disputed. But eventually nearly all the Slavs became Byzantines, whether by military force or through commercial and social interaction.

  In this process of incorporation and conversion, the new system of administration and the Church played significant roles. By 695, Hellas in central Greece formed a thema, with its own general and staff who supported local clergy, for instance the bishops of Athens and Corinth, in maintaining orthodox traditions through parishes and monasteries. Initially through trading contacts, the Slavs learnt to speak Greek and gradually became absorbed into the empire, serving in the army, adopting Christianity and paying their taxes to Constantinople, like other imperial subjects. Their cultural conversion strengthened Byzantium and deepened the empire’s Christian identity.

  Slavonic names or origin are noted in the sources in a neutral fashion: Niketas, Patriarch of Constantinople (766–80), was a Slav eunuch; Thomas the Slav was a military general who aspired to be emperor. Epithets such as these fall into the category of labels derived from a person’s geographical origin, personal features or trade, which were often considered humorous in Byzantium. Those called Paphlagonitis (from Paphlagonia) were often caricatured as dirty pork-eaters, while Simokattes (‘snub-nose’), Sarandapechys (‘forty cubits’, i.e. tall) or Podopagouros (‘crab-foot’) could all be ridiculed. The development of family names, however, marked a social process that gave individuals stronger identity, even if it might be humble. In the eleventh century, Patriarch Michael Keroularios (‘candle-maker’) held senatorial rank but must have had candle-makers among his ancestors. In the long overview of medieval history, this early and widespread use of family names set Byzantium apart from other states, as a society with a developed awareness of the importance of genealogy and personal relations.

  In the process of transforming the Slavs into Byzantines, the Church also played a critical role by expanding bishoprics and constructing churches. It was a long irregular process marked by setbacks such as the siege of Patras in 806, when Arab pirates linked up with rebellious Slavs to threaten the city. Thanks to the miraculous intervention of the local saint, Andreas, as well as a general based at Corinth, the besiegers were defeated. The original Greek inhabitants of Patras, who had fled to Sicily, were invited to return with their bishop to reoccupy the city. We learn from the writings of a ninth-century scholar, Arethas, that his parents were among those who returned.

  In addition to converting the Slavonic tribes to Christianity, patriarchs of Constantinople also tried to impose a more uniform orthodox belief. During the Persian invasions of 611–19, many Monophysite Christians in the eastern provinces, who refused to accept the Council of Chalcedon (451), had not supported imperial forces, arguing that a Zoroastrian regime would be more tolerant than the Byzantine. Religious controversies were reflected in political problems. Using definitions designed to win over these Monophysite communities, Patriarch Sergios I and his successor, Paul II, issued theological declarations in 634, 638 and 648, which extended the debate over Christ’s natures to the issue of His energy and will. But the doctrine of Monotheletism (the belief that Christ had only one will) provoked great opposition both in Byzantium and in the West, and failed to win over the Monophysites.

  The search for clearer theological definitions may have been given added impetus by the expansion of Islam, which undermined the Byzantines’ confidence. While they condemned the new revelation of Islam as a heresy, the Christian authorities in Constantinople anxiously questioned why God permitted the infidels to win so many battles. But the effort to bring the Monophysite churches back into communion with Constantinople was weakened by Muslim conquest, which effectively took over the areas that supported the hierarchy of rival churches and bishops. Many converted to Islam. Other Christian communities who remained loyal to Constantinople are sometimes identified as Melkite, from the Syriac term for imperial. Under Islam, all these Christians were protected people (dhimmi) and were tolerated. Gradually they adopted Arabic as their liturgical language and many survive to this day, for example, in Palestine and Lebanon.

  The official campaign to enforce Monotheletism led to the persecution of orthodox opponents. Maximos Confessor, a Byzantine monk, and Pope Martin I were both brought to Constantinople, put on trial and then banished. The pope died in exile in Cherson on the Black Sea, while Maximos was mutilated and then moved from one castle prison to another, suffering great privations. Their writings preserve a record of this theological debacle, which implicated Pope Honorius as well as several patriarchs of Constantinople.

  Monotheletism was finally condemned at the Sixth Oecumenical Council, summoned by Constantine IV in 680. The emperor himself presided over many of the sessions, when texts cited in support of the theology of One Will were analysed and found to be incorrect. He ordered that all copies of these writings should be burned, except for one example to be kept under lock and key in the patriarchal library of heresies. This procedure confirmed the vital role of the Church in supporting the imperial structure of government. In turn, orthodox emperors used church councils to consolidate their own dynastic rule.

  In 692, Justinian II summoned another council, normally called in Trullo because it met under the dome (troullos) of the Great Palace, to review ecclesiastical law. This gathering of 211 bishops, including representatives of the five great patriarchates, issued 102 canons intended to enforce more coherent definitions of belief and to update regulations for more uniform behaviour. These include the condemnation of many pre-Christian activities, such as the celebration of Kalends (New Year), and the 1 March festival, with public dancing by women, cross-dressing and the use of theatrical masks; the invocation of Dionysos while pressing the grapes; foretelling the future by bears or other animals, or by cloud-chasers, sorcerers, purveyors of amulets and diviners, who pretend to predict fortune, fate or genealogy. Apparently, it was proving difficult to eradicate older traditions.

  The Council also legislated for the first time on religious art: canon 100 decrees that no art which might arouse lascivious feelings should be displayed, and canon 82 prescribes the portrayal of the Saviour in His human form, as Incarnate man, rather than the early Christian symbol of the Lamb of God. The first may
apply to the icons of pagan gods and goddesses, as well as to portraits of prostitutes and concubines, which decorated many cities, together with verses describing their skills. The second immediately influenced the production of religious icons, which were often painted by monks. It was reinforced by Justinian’s revolutionary new gold coinage, which displayed the face of Christ on the front and put the emperor’s portrait on the back (plates 11a and 11b). Two types were issued: the first used a bearded image of Christ, the second a younger model with short curly hair, both familiar from mosaic portraits. Icon painters had already developed the first style, which is preserved on a magnificent panel at Mount Sinai. The fact that the Council in Trullo felt obliged to address these artistic issues suggests that they were taking on greater significance as a result of increased contact with Islam. In light of the continuing military successes of the Arabs, the charge of idolatry levelled against icon worship had a certain resonance, for the Muslims observed the Old Testament commandment against graven images.

  Although Justinian II represented the fourth generation of Herakleios’ family, in 695 he was overthrown in a military coup and exiled to Cherson. Despite the mutilation of his nose and tongue – intended to prevent him from ever ruling again – he survived and returned to power, wearing a golden nose patch and using an interpreter to speak for him. He tried to ensure the succession of his son, Tiberios, but his second reign from 705 to 711 was marked by such cruelty and revenge against his enemies that the entire family was murdered in another coup d’état.

  Nonetheless, during the initial period of Islamic threat, Byzantium derived a sense of continuity and strength from the dynasty founded by Herakleios. Although there were several crises, one imperial family held power from 610 to 695 and provided a more orderly succession of inheritance from father to son, which helped to secure the empire in its transformation from a late antique into a medieval state. Within Constantinople, the Senate displayed its importance by taking responsibility in moments of crisis. It sent the appeal to Carthage which saved Byzantium from chaotic administration; it sat as the court of highest judgment when Pope Martin and others accused of heresy were tried; it prevented Constans II from taking his family to the West, and it provided the experienced patricians who negotiated diplomatic treaties. But the Senate was unable to counter the ambitions generated by rival military leaders who took over as king-makers between 695 and 705 and again from 711 to 717. This novel power base, built up in the themata, destroyed the civilian authority of the Senate and empowered soldiers who competed to impose their own candidates as emperor.

  Under the onslaught of Islam, the empire was reduced to a much smaller medieval state, identified by its commitment to Roman imperial traditions, orthodox Christianity and its Greek inheritance. It also adopted dynastic rule to strengthen its new government. By resisting the Arabs, the Byzantines sustained Christianity in the eastern Mediterranean and checked the expansion of Islam into Asia Minor. From this very limited base, they began the conversion of the Slavonic tribes, which was to have momentous consequences. But the primary achievement of the new medieval Byzantium was to prevent Muslim efforts to capture Constantinople, which would have opened the way to a rapid conquest of the Balkans, central Europe and probably Rome itself.

  9

  Icons, a New Christian Art Form

  When the husband [who had commissioned a gilded wooden icon of St Michael the Archangel] felt he was about to die, he took his wife’s hand and put it upon the hand of the archangel saying: ‘O Archangel Michael… behold, in thy hands I place my wife Euphemia as a deposit, so that thou mayst watch over her.’ And after his death, Euphemia continued offering the icon incense, keeping a lamp lit before it at all times, and venerating it three times a day, she begged the saint to help her and protect her from the Devil.

  Sermon of Eustathios of Thrace, probably seventh century

  In this simple story, we learn how an elderly couple expressed their faith, thanks to an icon of St Michael the Archangel. The painted image they had commissioned was kept by the widow Euphemia in her bedroom, where she performed acts of veneration before it. Not only did it defend her from the Devil’s attempts to destroy her faith, which are described in vivid detail, but also, after her death, it was placed over her face as a protective cover. The local bishop then witnessed the appearance of the archangel himself, accompanied by many other angels all clad in golden robes, who came to take Euphemia’s soul to heaven. The icon disappeared temporarily, but later it was found suspended in the air in the episcopal church, where it performed many miracles.

  Burning incense and lighting a lamp in front of an image was of course an ancient way of showing respect. All imperial images had to be honoured in this way, and in the third and early fourth centuries the Christians’ failure to do so had unleashed official persecution against them. Public statues of gods and emperors, sometimes colossal, dominated the urban landscape and received marks of respect in special rites. At pagan festivals, statues of the gods were washed, dressed and paraded through cities; they were set up on altars, decorated with flower garlands and worshipped. In temples of Asclepius, patients slept close to the god’s statue and offered prayers requesting medical cures. Inside private homes, the family lares (household gods) were also venerated; women in particular attended to these in domestic shrines and made offerings to the gods. This strong tradition of seeking protection within the home provided a context in which Christian icons gradually replaced ancient ones. Although there is no record of this process, it seems likely that when Christians adopted their new monotheistic faith, they would have removed the old lares and set up new protecting images. As Christianity became established, pictures of Christ, the Virgin and saints took over the role of securing the well-being of the family. While this domestic form of veneration is rarely stressed, it may have been the means by which Christian icons came to be regarded by the faithful as indispensable.

  Recently, Thomas Mathews has shown that in Late Antiquity icons of the pagan gods were also displayed inside houses. They could be framed and hung on a wall; sometimes they had hinged side panels which could cover the painted area or lids which fitted over them. They are painted in encaustic, using heated wax which could be coloured and applied to thin pieces of wood to create life-like portraits. These images of gods and local deities have intense large eyes that address the viewer directly. Incense and lamps were burned in their honour. Often they were associated with funerary practices. Mummified bodies from the Fayyum area of Egypt, for instance, preserve portraits placed over the face of the deceased. Not only rich women, wearing their golden jewellery, but also old men, young children, athletes and pagan gods were all commemorated in this way. Their compelling personal characters make us feel that we know them as they were when alive. Thanks to the dry conditions in Fayyum, many survived, while elsewhere, though ubiquitous in the Roman world, they decomposed.

  Mathews suggests that these pagan portraits are the forerunners of Christian icons painted using the same technique, and that images of Isis provided a model for the Mother of God, those of Zeus and Sarapis for the first images of Christ. These ancient icons are found in a private, domestic setting as well as in cult temples. Evidence that icons derived from pagan models may be supported by the stories of miraculous punishments suffered by painters when they tried to depict Christ as Zeus (one or both hands were temporarily withered). Even as late as the 580s, pagans were discovered commissioning icons so that they could appear to venerate Christ when, in fact, they were devotees of Apollo. This deception provoked trials in which the pagan worshippers of Apollo were condemned to death; it also implies that distinguishing encaustic panels of the pagan gods from icons of Christ might be difficult. Artists also worried whether Christ was to be shown with long hair and bearded, or with short curly hair. While some Christian authors praised the long-haired image modelled on what they called ‘Nazarene’, others claimed that the short frizzy hairstyle was more authentic.

  The Gree
k term eikon can refer to any image, but by the fourth century it seems to relate particularly to the early encaustic portraits of Christ, the Virgin, the saints, local martyrs and bishops and monks (plates 21 and 27). In contrast to the domestic use of icons within the home, religious images were common in tombs. Christians buried in marble coffins (sarcophagi) chose symbols and images to reflect their religious convictions, and these elaborately carved monuments were often placed inside churches. Imperial patronage in association with holy relics frequently provided a stimulus to Christian art, for instance when Leo I (457–74) and his wife Verina brought the girdle and veil of the Mother of God to Constantinople and constructed special shrines within her church at Blachernai to house them. These chapels were decorated with large icons of the Virgin with the imperial couple and the two senators responsible for identifying the relics. On her feast days the icons were processed through the city. In less official celebrations, images of holy men, bishops, martyrs and saints were also commemorated in mosaic, painted in fresco and displayed in public places. Painted panels were rapidly copied in metal, mosaic, enamel and less precious materials; they were framed and covered with silver covers embellished with gems; silk veils were hung in front of them to protect the painted surface. Icons created a new art form, which remains particularly associated with Byzantium. They not only attained paramount importance within the empire, but also exercised immense influence outside it.

  How did icons gain such a dominant place in Byzantium? Despite some theological reservations, related to the Old Testament prohibition of graven images, religious images are mentioned in early Christian texts. While there is no evidence for their existence during the life of Christ, a story that St Luke had painted the Virgin and Child, and that all later copies were endowed with that authentic power, associated such icons with the holy qualities of their subjects. Other images miraculously created, such as the Mandylion, the towel on which it was believed Christ had impressed his features, were called acheiropoietai (not made by hand), and were particularly cherished. At Edessa (in Syria) and Kamouliana (in central Asia Minor) icons modelled on this holy cloth performed the role of city protectors, and were paraded around the walls whenever enemies appeared. Similarly, after the First Oecumenical Council, images of the 318 Fathers were held responsible for protecting Nicaea, while the most important icon of the Mother of God played a highly significant part in the defence of the capital. As we have seen, this gave rise to Constantinople’s additional name: Theotokoupolis, the city guarded by the Theotokos, she who bore God.