Constantine IX never recovered his prestige after the departure of Humbert and his friends. He continued to be suspected (with good reason) of pro-Latin sympathies, and his lame and grovelling excuses to the Patriarch - in which he tried to put the blame on everyone but himself - impressed nobody. But in any case he was by now a pathetic figure. Soon after his humiliation he retired to his monastery of Manganes, where his tomb, next to the Sclerina's, was already awaiting him. It was, perhaps, the most sumptuous foundation that even Constantinople had ever seen. Psellus writes:
The building was decorated throughout with golden stars, like the vault of heaven, but whereas heaven has its stars only at intervals, here the surface was entirely covered with gold, issuing forth from its centre in a never-ending stream. Surrounding it were other, smaller buildings, surrounded completely or in part by cloisters. The ground everywhere was levelled, and stretched further than the eye could see. Then came a second circle of buildings, larger than the first, with lawns covered with flowers. .. There were fountains which filled basins of water; gardens, some of them hanging, others sloping down to the level ground; and a bath that was beautiful beyond description.
In this bath the Emperor would lie for several hours every day, in an attempt to find some relief from his constant pain; but some time in the autumn of 1054, with the air already growing chill, he stayed in too long. Pleurisy resulted. At first he seemed to recover, but then his condition began rapidly to deteriorate. He lingered on until the new year; then, on 11 January 105 5, he died.
Prelude to Catastrophe
[1055-9]
You would have thought that his entry into the capital had been some revelation of God Himself... I have taken part in many imperial processions and have assisted at ceremonies of a more religious character, but in all my life I have never seen such splendour. It was not merely the people of the Qty, nor the Senate, nor the host of farmers and merchants, that made up the happy throng; there were also students of the theological colleges, and dwellers on the mountain-tops, and hermits who had left their hermitages in the carved rock-tombs; the stylites too, whether they had slipped away from their rocks, or come down from their aerial perches, or exchanged the mountain heights for the level plains, all made the Emperor's procession into the City a most memorable sight.
Michael Psellus, on the entry of Isaac I into Constantinople
Constantine IX died a widower. Three years after the Tornices revolt and four years before the schism, in 1050 on a precise date unknown, his wife Zoe had predeceased him. Surprisingly perhaps, he had been devastated. Admittedly he owed her a lot: not only his crown, but also his quasi-conjugal life with his mistress, which would have been impossible had the old Empress not looked kindly on it. On the other hand she was many years his senior, and the physical aspect of their own marriage - if indeed it had existed at all — had been of short duration and marked, so far as we can see, by a distinct lack of enthusiasm on both sides. To many people, therefore, his grief seemed somewhat overdone -particularly when he interpreted the growth of a small fungus on one of the columns supporting her tomb-canopy as a miraculous sign that she was now numbered with the angels.1
Be that as it may, on Constantine's death without legitimate issue the
1 A contemporary mosaic representation of Zoe and Constantine flanking the figure of Christ can be seen on the east wall of the south gallery of St Sophia, but all three heads have obviously been altered. The portrait of Zoe depicts a much younger woman, and may well date originally from the time of her marriage to Romanus Argyrus; but it was probably later defaced by Michael V after he exiled her, and would have been restored only after his death in 1042. The supposed portrait of Constantine is even more suspect, since it probably replaces one of Michael IV, which in turn replaced one of Romanus: no wonder the lettering above it is almost illegible.
imperial crown devolved once again on Theodora. Her imperial presence since being dragged from her monastery thirteen years before had been shadowy, to say the least; but now, refusing as always to contemplate the idea of marriage - however theoretical - she elected to govern on her own behalf. This she did, by all accounts, with remarkable efficiency: dispensing justice, promulgating laws, receiving ambassadors and stubbornly resisting repeated attempts by the Patriarch to take over the reins of government. One question, however, remained unanswered: who was to succeed her? She herself still showed little sign of age - both mentally and physically, she seemed in as good condition as she had ever been -but she was by now in her seventy-seventh year and could not last for ever. Clearly, she must appoint a successor; but she was superstitious and terrified of death, and could not be persuaded to turn her mind to the one problem whose urgency and importance increased with every day that passed.
It was still unresolved when, in the last days of August 1056, she was suddenly seized with intense abdominal pains. For once, poisoning was not suspected — the cause was probably acute appendicitis - but it soon became evident that the end was near. Anxiously, her counsellors conferred together - Psellus, who was with them, was shocked at the way 'they played fast and loose with the Empire, like men playing at dice' - to discuss the most suitable successor, whose name they would submit to the dying woman for her approval. Their choice finally fell on an elderly Patrician named Michael Bringas, who had formerly held the rank of stratioticus, a civil service post concerned with military administration.1 'He was,' sniffs Psellus, Mess qualified to rule than to be ruled and directed by others,' but this was seen by the cynics around the throne as being a distinct advantage: they asked nothing better than a cipher like Michael, who would be only too grateful for their guidance and through whom they could run the Empire as they liked.
By the time this decision was reached — it was about noon on 31 August
1 Schlumbergcr seems to think that Michael had spent his enure active life in the army - surely a complete misreading. The new Emperor had, on the contrary, been chosen by the civil bureaucracy as being one of their own and detested everything military, as subsequent events were to show.
- the old Empress was sinking fast. She was no longer able to speak, but those closest to her insisted that they had distinctly seen her head nodding in consent. There was another brief delay while the Patriarch -refusing as always to be taken for granted - sought assurances that Michael had indeed been nominated by Theodora herself rather than her advisers; finally however he declared himself satisfied, and that same afternoon proceeded with the coronation. A few hours later the last representative of the Macedonian dynasty was dead, and Michael VI -known sometimes as 'Stratioticus' but more often simply as 'the Aged' -reigned supreme over the Roman Empire.
His reign began with a piece of high comedy when the following morning a certain Theodosius, a cousin or nephew of Constantine Monomachus who had apparently expected to succeed to the throne as of right, attempted an impromptu coup d'etat and actually managed to storm the main prison, liberating all the prisoners who naturally flocked to his banner. All went well until he reached the Palace; but there, when he found himself confronted with the Varangian guard and a detachment of sailors from the imperial fleet, his courage suddenly evaporated. Turning back, he headed for St Sophia, thinking - on what grounds it is hard to understand - to enlist the support of the Patriarch; he had, however, sorely misjudged his man. Just as he was about to enter the church, the doors were slammed in his face. His followers were by now rapidly drifting away, and before long there remained of the rebel force only Theodosius and his son, cowering in the outer narthex, too frightened even to run away. They were lucky to escape with their eyes; but nobody seems to have taken them seriously enough to blind them. They were exiled to Pergamum, having succeeded only in increasing the new Emperor's popularity and strengthening his position on the throne.
Michael VI was a collateral descendant of that Joseph Bringas who had been chief minister under Romanus II and Theophano;1 but he showed tragically litde of the political acumen of his forebear. Wise
government in mid-eleventh-century Byzantium consisted above all in striking a prudent balance between the civil administration and the military aristocracy: Michael simply indulged the one and victimized the other. In the spring of 1057 — during the annual Holy Week ceremony at which the Emperor traditionally distributed largesse to those who were thought
1 See Chapter 11.
to have been particularly meritorious during the past year - the entire Senate, together with all the senior magistrates and civil servants, were astonished to receive huge bonuses and automatic promotion, some of them by two or even three ranks. Then came the turn of the army. Psellus, once again an eye-witness, describes what took place:
The men who presented themselves were noble warriors, men of fine reputation. After bowing to him and making the usual reverences, they were told to stand to one side. At this point he should have taken them aside individually and begun with some words of gratitude. Instead, he first berated them all en bloc and next ordered the two chiefs - Isaac Comnenus and Catacalon Cecaumenus to stand forth. He then publicly turned on Isaac with a torrent of abuse, accusing him of having all but lost Antioch, corrupted his army, shown no signs of leadership and embezzled public money to satisfy his own personal greed. Isaac, who had expected praise and promotion, seemed stunned by the violence of this invective. Some of his fellow-generals attempted to defend him, but the Emperor forbade them to speak.
It was, by any standards, a deplorable exhibition. Certainly where the two generals were concerned, the Emperor had not the faintest grounds for his attack - which seems to have been the result, quite simply, of childish pique. For forty years he had been insulted and patronized by the military aristocracy; now at last he was in a position to tell them what he thought of them, and he did not mince his words. Nor, afterwards, did he express any regrets for what he had done. At a second interview, which followed at the generals' request a few days later, he had a perfect opportunity to apologize, or at least to show a modicum of good will. He did neither. And from that moment his downfall was assured.
The generals, outraged, determined to act. They had had enough of government by timid bureaucrats, by men who thought only of feathering their own nests while the army atrophied and the enemies of the Empire advanced from all sides; the time had come, they decided, to get rid of this long succession of weak, good-for-nothing Emperors and the epicene eunuchs who manipulated them, and to return to the old Roman tradition of the imperator, the Emperor-general who would put himself at the head of his troops and lead them to victory. But who was he to be? Isaac Comnenus was the obvious choice, but he persistently refused to put himself forward and retired instead to his estates in Paphlagonia. His colleagues, however, remained (at some risk to themselves) in the capital to take soundings, and were soon much encouraged to discover that they had ah unexpected ally, perhaps the most valuable non-military supporter for whom they could possibly have hoped: Michael Cerularius, Patriarch of Constantinople - who, instead of closing the doors of St Sophia as he had on the ridiculous Theodosius in the previous year, now opened them secretly to the conspirators.
That same night, in the darkness of the Great Church, the military leaders of Byzantium met in conclave to discuss the overthrow of Michael Stratioticus and to decide on his successor. In view of the obvious unwillingness of Isaac Comnenus to be considered, they first selected that other victim of the old Emperor's wrath, Catacalon Cecaumenus, who had the additional advantage of being a considerably younger man; but he shook his head. Isaac, he maintained, was the only possible choice. With his commanding presence and formidable personality he stood head and shoulders above the others. If formally approached with a unanimous demand from his colleagues, how could he possibly refuse the call? And so it was that on 8 June 1057, on his Paphlagonian estate, Isaac Comnenus allowed himself to be proclaimed Emperor of the Romans. A month later he was joined by Catacalon, marching from his native Colonea at the head of no less than eight battalions that he had picked up on the way: five Byzantine, plus three more composed of foreign auxiliaries - Varangian, Frankish and Norman.
The movement led by Isaac Comnenus against Michael Stratioticus was no mere insurrection. It had nothing in common with the revolts of military adventurers like George Maniakes or Leo Tornices, however formidable these may have been. This was a full-scale civil war, in which virtually the whole of the army of Asia was marching against the Emperor, supported by vast numbers of Byzantines from all social classes and walks of life. Isaac, moreover, proclaimed by his soldiers and raised on a shield according to the old imperial tradition, had a far more legitimate claim to the throne than Michael; he came not as a pretender but as one who, in the eyes of his followers as well as in his own, was already the rightful basileus. Already, too, taxes were being collected in his name. Not surprisingly, there was little resistance as he and Catacalon advanced westward on Constantinople; at every stop, more and more of the local citizens, civil and military alike, flocked to his standard - so many that at moments chaos seemed to threaten. Fortunately Isaac possessed quite remarkable gifts, both of organization and of command. One look from him, we are told, was enough to silence opposition; strong men trembled at his frown. There and then he introduced a programme of rigid training. Every recruit was carefully examined: those of uncertain ability or spirit were given tasks behind the lines, while those of proved courage and obedience were formed into new companies and regiments. Every unit had its designated place in the camp or on the march, every man his place in the unit. Thanks to the tax collections, the soldiers were paid promptly and in full.
Michael Stratioticus, as far as we can tell, had suspected nothing until he received the news of the proclamation of his rival. He had then taken the only action open to him by calling on the army in Europe to come to his aid, supplemented by such few small detachments from Asia as had remained loyal. As a force, it was hardly impressive. Like Isaac's army, it contained a large proportion of foreign mercenaries, many of whom were soon to find themselves fighting their own compatriots. It was put under the supreme authority of Theodore, Domestic of the Schools, formerly one of Theodora's eunuchs who had been raised to the rank of proedrus its far more experienced second-in-command, the magister Aaron, was a member of a princely Bulgarian family - who, however, unfortunately happened to be Isaac Comnenus's brother-in-law, Isaac having married his sister Catherine some years previously.
Arriving in Constantinople at the beginning of August, Theodore and Aaron immediately crossed to Asia and established their headquarters in Nicomedia. It was a disastrous mistake. Had they continued to Nicaea, whose tremendous walls commanded the only road round the Marmara, Isaac - who had no ships - would have been hard put to advance any further; instead, the city surrendered to him without a struggle, providing him with an ideal forward base for operations against the capital.
For a few weeks the two armies remained encamped within some five miles of each other, between Nicomedia and Nicaea, while the soldiers from each side, meeting unofficially on foraging expeditions, attempted - on the whole unsuccessfully - to persuade their reluctant enemies to transfer their allegiance. Then, at last, on 20 August, battle was joined. It was not the rout that might have been expected. Theodore and Aaron fought bravely, there were heavy casualties on both sides and Isaac Comnenus himself, who had somehow got separated from his army, was set on by four huge Russian mercenaries and narrowly escaped with his life. But the ultimate outcome was inevitable, and the defeated army of Michael Stratioticus fled in disorder back to Constantinople, where its two generals tendered to their master their formal resignations.
For the old Emperor the only hope now lay in diplomacy. By astute negotiations perhaps something might still be saved. A day or two later a delegation consisting of Michael Psellus and two colleagues that he had personally chosen - the former chief minister Constantine Likhoudes and the proedrus Theodore Alopus - set off for the camp of Isaac Comnenus. Their proposal was simple enough: that Isaac should come in peace
to Constantinople, where he would immediately be crowned Caesar, on the further understanding that he would succeed to the throne on Michael's death. The three ambassadors arrived on 25 August, and were received informally: almost too informally, Psellus thought, since the general had at first limited himself to offering them refreshments and inquiring politely whether they had had a comfortable journey. On the following day, however, their reception was very different:
The sight that met our eyes was astonishing. First, our ears were deafened by the acclamations of the army. Their voices were not all raised at once: the front rank acclaimed him first, then the second took up the cry, then the third, and so on. Then, after the last rank had shouted, there was one great united roar which hit us like a thunderclap.
The Emperor [i.e. Isaac] was seated on a couch crowned with two head-rests, raised on a high platform and overlaid with gold, with a stool at its foot. A magnificent robe gave him an air of high distinction. He held his head up proudly and puffed out his chest - an effort that turned his cheeks deep red -while a far-away look in his eyes suggested that he was sunk in profoundest thought.. . Around him were circles upon circles of warriors. The nearest and most important comprised the highest ranks of the nobility, men who rivalled the stately grandeur of the Ancient Heroes... In the second circle were their lieutenants and the front-rank fighters, surrounding whom again were the light-armed troops without armour, and behind them all the forces which had joined him from the barbarian nations. There were Italians, and Scyths from the Taurus, men of fearful aspect in outlandish garb, glaring fiercely about them. Some had plucked their eyebrows and had covered themselves in war-paint, while others preserved their natural colour... Finally there were the warriors armed with long spears and carrying their single-edged battle-axes on their shoulders.
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