Arab diplomats and prisoners of war record similarly graphic details of the life of the imperial court. Harun ibn Yahya provides a fascinating account of the palace, where Muslim captives were invited to dine on special occasions and were assured by a herald that ‘there is no pork in these dishes’. He described the guards – Black Christians, Khazars and Turks – with their own weapons, four different prisons, numerous talismans (including a horse and rider with ruby eyes), an organ, the emperor’s church and courtyards with marble, mosaic and fresco decoration and tables of wood, ivory and gold. Close to the church of Hagia Sophia, he noted the clock with twenty-four small doors, which opened and closed automatically to mark the hours. He was interested in a cistern from which wine and honey could be made to flow out of the statues on top of columns on feast days, and statues such as the one on the top of the column of Justinian.
In the Hippodrome, Harun thought the Serpent Column, made of four copper snakes, was intended to ward off real ones, and described other hollow statues of yellow copper representing people, horses and wild beasts. He observed with surprise that the empress sat beside the emperor to watch the chariot and horse races. This scene is portrayed in frescoes decorating the tower of the cathedral at Kiev, where the imperial couple are shown overlooking Hippodrome sports from the imperial box. In the early fifteenth century Clavijo, the Spanish ambassador, records the same tradition: the empress sits with the emperor in the Hippodrome, while other ladies watch the jousts from a gallery above the entrance. Although tumblers, jugglers, gymnasts, wrestlers, singers, jesters (often dwarves) and dancers, both male and female, were common court entertainers throughout the medieval world, Byzantium clearly had its own unusual distractions: acrobats performed on camels and on ropes strung between high columns in the Hippodrome. Inside the court, choirs of eunuchs with their permanently childish voices, and golden and silver organs played by the Greens and the Blues, as well as castanets and lyres, all provided musical diversion.
The most detailed records of Byzantine court activity, diplomacy and administration are the compilations of Constantine VII Porphyrogennetos: the Book of Ceremonies; a treatise On Governing the Empire, dedicated to his son; and another On the Themes. These reflect a practical need to prepare Romanos II for his imperial role, and draw on a long tradition of books of guidance. The two treatises deal respectively with territories and rulers beyond the empire, and the regions under imperial control, the themes. Both include much geographical information about the different terrains, mountains, rivers and the characteristics of their inhabitants. On Governing the Empire opens with a discussion of the Pechenegs, who are considered extremely dangerous enemies as well as ‘ravenous and keenly covetous of articles rare among them… shameless in their demands for generous gifts’. Constantine advises,
when an imperial agent goes over to Cherson on this service, he must at once send to Patzinacia (the land of the Pechenegs) and demand hostages and an escort, and on their arrival he must leave the hostages under guard in the city of Cherson and himself go off with the escort to Patzinacia and carry out his instructions.
This practical information is illustrated by particular experiences.
Once when the cleric Gabriel was dispatched by imperial mandate to the Turks and said to them, The emperor declares that you are to go and expel the Pechenegs from their place… all the chief men of the Turks cried aloud with one voice, We are not putting ourselves on the track of the Pechenegs; for we cannot fight them because their country is great and their people numerous and they are the devil’s brats.
In this section on Byzantium’s northern neighbours, Constantine gives a detailed account of the way the people from Novgorod, Smolensk and other cities in Russia gather in Kiev and sail down the River Dnieper to the Crimea, and thence across the Black Sea to Constantinople. He describes the seven rapids or cataracts on the lower Dnieper and how they may be negotiated. At the first, which is called Essoupi, which means ‘Do not sleep!’, the water crashes against rocks in the middle ‘with a mighty and terrific din’. To provide a sense of scale, he reports that this cataract is as narrow as the polo ground in Constantinople. Here the Russians disembark the men and guide the boats around the rocks in the middle of the river on foot, also punting them with poles:
At the fourth barrage, the big one called in Russian Aeifor and in Slavonic Neasit, because the pelicans nest in the stones of the barrage… all put into land. They conduct the slaves in their chains by land, six miles, until they are through the barrage. Then partly dragging their boats, partly carrying them on their shoulders, they convey them to the far side of the barrage.
They continue to the seventh barrage and on to Krarion, where there is a ford as wide as the Hippodrome and as high as an arrow can reach if shot from the bottom to the top. This is ‘where the Pechenegs come down and attack the Russians’.
Constantine collected this mixture of practical and political advice from older sources covering the history of Byzantium’s relations with all its neighbours. Even though some of the information is not up to date, the genealogies he provides of the Prophet Muhammad, the ruling Bagratid dynasty in Georgia and Armenia, and the Franks in the West explain and elaborate on important historical developments. He shows, for instance, why the Croatians remain independent from the Bulgarians:
The prince of Croatia has from the beginning, that is ever since the reign of Heraclius, the emperor, been in servitude and submission to the emperor of the Romans, and was never made subject to the prince of Bulgaria.
In addition to these works for his son, Constantine described another of his personal efforts in the following words:
Research into history has become clouded and uncertain, either because of the scarcity of useful books or because the quantity of written material has aroused fear and dismay. This is why Constantine, born in the porphyra, the most orthodox and most Christian of all the emperors who ever reigned… considered that the best thing… was first of all to have an active search made and to gather together from all corners of the oikoumene books of every kind, full of diverse and varied knowledge.
(I discuss the porphyra in the next chapter.) The result was an enormous encyclopaedia in 53 books ‘enshrining all the great lessons of history’, and divided by topics such as military strategy, hunting and marriage. Only three of these books survive: number 1 on the election of emperors, 22 on embassies, largely culled from the work of a certain John of Antioch, and 50 on vice and virtue. Other projects in the same style are fortunately preserved intact: a complete Lexikon of Greek names and terms called the Souda, and a revised edition of the late antique anthology of Greek epigrams, which gives pride of place to the Christian inscriptions at the beginning but also preserves even the most indecent homoerotic verses.
These great encyclopaedias brought together the historical experience of the past in a movement which modern historians have characterized as a ‘renaissance’. It could also distort the past, as Constantine showed in the Life of Basil, an account which he commissioned of his grandfather’s rise to power. As we have seen, Basil I became emperor by murdering his predecessor Michael III. Constantine insisted on interpreting this act as one that saved Byzantium from a drunkard and emphasized all the irreverent and crazy aspects of Michael’s rule. Basil I could thus be portrayed in a favourable light as the founder of the Macedonian dynasty, now in its third generation under the proud leadership of Constantine. ‘Macedonian’ has also become the term attached to his ‘renaissance’ of ancient wisdom.
The court ceremonies documented by Constantine VII continued in use for centuries and were transferred to the Blachernai Palace, when Alexios I Komnenos (1081–1118) decided to live there. After 1204, during the Latin occupation of Constantinople, all the centres which claimed to represent Byzantium adapted the ceremonies to their own courts, and in 1261, when Michael VIII Palaiologos re-entered the capital on foot, he observed the ceremony appropriate to a victorious emperor returning in triumph. In some ways the m
ost curious text about court ceremonies is the late Byzantine Treatise on the Dignities and Offices by an anonymous author known as Pseudo-Kodinos. It reflects the persistence of titles, costumes and regalia well into the fourteenth century, when both the empire and the imperial court had only a shadow of their former strength. In his mosaic portrait at the Chora monastery, Theodore Metochites, the first minister of the empire, is depicted wearing a kaftan and turban, which reflect the influence of Turkish styles on court costume in this period (plate 26). So even in the last years of the empire, not only do the same responsibilities appear, together with the roga, the annual pension, which had once made certain offices so desirable, but also the honorific terms are grossly inflated and individuals competed to gain them as never before. During the short reign of the last ruler of Byzantium, Constantine XI (1449–53), the Grand Duke, Loukas Notaras, tried to obtain two high offices for his sons in convoluted obsequiousness:
Your Majesty made Kantakouzenos’ son stratopedarch at your brother the despot’s request, because of his relationship by marriage and because his father was protostrator. If you give Phrantzes such an important office which is above that of grand stratopedarch, what will happen? But if Your Majesty pleases, reward him with the office of grand primikerios which is next in rank.
At this stage, whether an official was protostrator or grand stratopedarch cannot have been of great importance in financial terms, but courtiers still fought to gain the most prestigious posts which ranked highest in the hierarchy. The emperor was embarrassed because he wanted to reward other officials who were more deserving than Notaras’ sons. Meanwhile the Turks encircled the city and brought up their new giant cannon which was to bring down the walls.
17
Imperial Children, ‘Born in the Purple’
In 1044, the Byzantines protested against Constantine IX’s mistress, Maria Skleraina, and demanded to see the real empresses. ‘We don’t want the Skleraina as empress. We don’t want her to cause the death of our mothers, the porphyrogennetoi Zoe and Theodora.’
John Skylitzes, Chronicle, eleventh century
The adjective ‘born in the purple’ (Greek, porphyrogennetos) derives from the porphyra, a special room lined with porphyry, purple stone, or hung with purple silk, which was constructed within the Great Palace before 750. In that year Irene, the Khazar princess who became Constantine V’s first wife, gave birth to a male child, named Leo after his grandfather. He was later identified both as ‘the Khazar’ and porphyrogennetos; he was the first imperial child born in the Purple Chamber. This special complex was an initiative of the iconoclast emperor, who also built the church of the Virgin of the Pharos (Lighthouse) within the palace complex. It became the room in which empresses delivered their children, who all bore the epithet ‘born in the purple’. This was a creative device, which introduced a new title as a way of ensuring dynastic imperial authority.
In Roman times, birth ‘in purple’ was a term commonly used of imperial children, who might even be wrapped in purple-edged swaddling clothes. The expensive dye, derived from tiny murex shellfish, was employed to enhance imperial dignity. As we have seen, Byzantine emperors and their families monopolized the wearing of purple silks and they sent diplomatic gifts of purple cloth, which were particularly appreciated abroad. A sarcophagus made of porphyry, the purple stone mined only from a source in Egypt, was also reserved for rulers.
Whether or not the porphyra was intended to guarantee the legitimacy of the porphyrogennetoi, Constantine V understood the important role it could play in consolidating dynastic rule in Byzantium. His wife Irene, a child bride brought to Constantinople to strengthen a political alliance, does not appear to have had any children until the birth of Leo. The happy event was celebrated and Leo was crowned co-emperor one year later. In these two measures, the construction of the porphyra and the coronation of his first-born son, we can sense Constantine’s determination to secure the continuity of his dynasty. Although he later had many other sons by his third wife and raised them to high-ranking positions, he always regarded Leo as his heir.
By emphasizing a truly imperial birth marked by a new qualification ‘born in the purple’, Constantine wished to make the office of emperor hereditary. In a departure from the Roman principle of election, in which the Senate and army both played a major part, he tried to impose the principle of dynastic inheritance from father to son. The Purple Chamber, which contributed to this new medieval method of designating the heir apparent, also sidelined the senatorial aristocracy and the generals. Other rulers such as Herakleios had already insisted on maintaining their own families in power, and for those with no sons, ways of adopting a successor were well known. In the long transition from Antiquity to the Middle Ages, however, this is a critical moment. The special birthing chamber within the palace complex helped Constantine V find a solution to those who challenged his family’s rule. From now on, he intended that only a porphyrogennetos would be qualified to rule over Byzantium.
Naturally, this development did not deter rivals and usurpers, who continued to try to seize power. The porphyra was also used for other purposes, for instance when Empress Irene ordered the blinding of her son Constantine VI in the chamber in which he had been born. Later, empresses used it for the distribution of gifts to aristocratic women at the pagan feast of the Brumalia. In an acutely difficult situation that arose in the early tenth century, we can observe the ruling emperor using it quite consciously to further his dynastic intentions.
The emperor is Leo VI, nicknamed the Philosopher and the Wise (886–912), who married three times and had the misfortune to lose all three of his wives. The first, Theophano, was a saintly recluse rather than an active empress. After her death, the emperor celebrated her life in frescoes painted in the Great Palace and then married his mistress, Zoe Zaoutze, who died without producing any legitimate heirs. To marry a third time, the emperor had to do a severe penance, because the Church had clear rules about the institution of Christian marriage. Even a second was only possible if no children had resulted from the first; and a third was considered inappropriate. After the penance, however, Leo duly enshrined Eudokia Baiane as his third empress. Then she and her baby died in childbirth in 901. This put the emperor in a very difficult situation as he desperately needed a son and heir to follow him on the throne. But Patriarch Nicholas I Mystikos reminded him of the ecclesiastical regulations: ‘to enter a fourth marriage is a bestial act only worthy of lower animals’.
The emperor therefore lived with his mistress, Zoe Karbounopsina (black-eyed Zoe), until she was ready to give birth, when Leo had her moved into the porphyra. There, the much longed-for son was born in May 905. Although tradition demanded that the child should be named Basil after his paternal grandfather (Basil I), Leo decided to name the porphyrogennetos Constantine after all previous rulers of that name going back to Constantine I, the founder of the Christian empire and its capital city. But since Patriarch Nicholas remained completely opposed to Zoe Karbounopsina, the child was only baptized after Leo agreed to abandon his mistress and send her into a nunnery. Constantine was thus recognized as Leo’s son. The emperor then installed Zoe in the palace and bribed a priest to marry them. Patriarch Nicholas was furious and punished this flagrant violation of Church law by excluding Leo from the church for nearly a year.
Eventually a compromise was reached and in the Tomus of Union Nicholas stipulated that no further fourth marriages would ever be permitted. Constantine was recognized as his father’s heir and became the most famous of the purple-born children, always identified by his soubriquet porphyrogennetos to emphasize his legitimacy. Even this did not ensure a peaceful transition of power after Leo’s death in 912. Following his brother Alexander’s brief reign of only thirteen months, the eight-year-old Constantine was left as ruler. In 913, the Council of Regency included his mother and the patriarch, Nicholas, who remained, not surprisingly, unsympathetic. Six years later, under the pretext of protecting Constantine’s inheritance,
Romanos Lekapenos, the grand admiral of the fleet, usurped imperial authority and ruled from 920 to 944, promoting his own sons to the highest posts. Although nominally emperor from 913, Constantine only succeeded in ousting the Lekapenos family in 945. His purple aura sustained him through twenty-six years. He then reigned until 959. He became a scholar and painter, who patronized goldsmiths, manuscript illuminators and other craftsmen, and encouraged the rebirth of art often displaying themes from ancient mythology.
By this time, the term porphyrogennetos was recognized in the West as a special designation, which provoked regular pressure for marriage alliances involving an authentically imperial bride. As we have seen, Constantine VII Porphyrogennetos forcefully forbade these requests, treating Byzantine princesses as comparable to imperial insignia or Greek fire. During his own struggle to assert his right to the imperial inheritance, Constantine developed an exalted notion of what it meant to be born in the purple. He condemned Leo III for choosing a Khazar princess for his son, which brought ‘great shame to the empire of the Romans’, and Romanos I for permitting his granddaughter Maria Lekapene to marry Peter of Bulgaria. In connection with this inappropriate marriage, Constantine characterized Romanos as follows: he was
a common, illiterate fellow… nor was he of imperial and noble stock, and for this reason in most of his actions he was too arrogant and despotic… and because he did this thing [the marriage] contrary to the canon and to ecclesiastical tradition and the ordinance and commandment of the great and holy emperor Constantine [I], [he] was much abused and was slandered and hated by the senatorial council and all the common people and the church herself.
Despite this contemptuous dismissal of Romanos I, Constantine’s eldest son was duly named Romanos after his grandfather and then married to a western princess, Bertha. In his book of advice, On Governing the Empire, Constantine takes pains to stress Bertha’s distinguished heritage: her father, King Hugh,
Byzantium: The Surprising Life of a Medieval Empire Page 23
