The Oxford History of Byzantium

by Cyril Mango

  This urban prosperity at the edge of the empire was partly due to the difficulties of imposing taxation so far from the centre, but it was also the result of government concern for the stability of the frontier regions. Byzantium had neither the developed political ideology nor the repressive machinery of the modern totalitarian state, and only to a limited extent was the economy state-operated. Nevertheless, there were no human or material resources which the state did not claim the right to control and exploit, and there were few economic or social developments which did not originate in government management of resources for political purposes. The nature of this management changed by the twelfth century, as an increasing share of it was handled by lay and ecclesiastical magnates who either received exemption from the growing burden of taxes and corvées, or were granted possession of much of the increasing amount of land which was coming under state ownership. However, the aims remained the same: to maximize fiscal exploitation and military recruitment while ensuring the protection and provisioning of Constantinople and the security of the regime. Like all medieval governments, Byzantium was constantly concerned to keep agricultural land productive by stopping the peasantry from deserting it. Perhaps more than most medieval states, it tended to solve problems of labour, recruitment, and security by large-scale transfers of population from one region to another. Byzantium was also uniquely successful in keeping its aristocracy dependent on the central government for its wealth and status. For a time, in the ninth and tenth centuries, the great families of Asia Minor who occupied the chief military commands looked set to become landed magnates like the feudal nobility of the medieval West, with a strong territorial power base of local estates and local retainers. But after two of these families, the Phokas and the Skleros, came close to seizing power from the emperor Basil II between 976 and 989, Basil made it his business to weaken the connection between the aristocracy and the land, by confiscating their estates, by closing their opportunities for land acquisition through purchase or conquest, and by posting them to short-term military commands away from their own localities. A number of important Byzantine families continued to retain strong local roots, notably at Adrianople and Trebizond, but in general Byzantine élite society in the eleventh and twelfth centuries was remarkable for its lack of regionalism and localism. This probably contributed to the collapse of Byzantine Asia Minor; it certainly played a part in the empire’s ability to survive the loss of the homeland of so much of its high-ranking personnel.

  The move of the imperial court from the Great Palace to that of Blachernai necessitated an extension of the land walls by Manuel I. The façade of the Palaiologan Tekfur Sarayι (cf. p. 255) rises in the distance.

  Plan of Amorium, capital of the Anatolic theme and one of the principal Byzantine military bases of Asia Minor until its destruction by the Arabs in 838. At a little over 1 km across, Amorium was a big city by medieval Byzantine standards.

  Area of ancient agora of Corinth with Byzantine installations as in the 11th—12th centuries.

  Emperors and Dynasties

  Medieval Byzantium inherited from imperial Rome a fundamental distinction between the imperial office and the person and family of the emperor. It was notoriously possible for a successful, politically astute general to seize power from a weak or unpopular ruler and then to prove that his usurpation was divinely ordained because ‘nothing succeeds like success’. Of the thirty-nine emperors who ruled between 780 and 1204, nineteen were forcibly deposed, six through outright murder, with another two dying as a result of blinding, the standard method of disqualification. Foul play was suspected in at least three other imperial deaths, and of the hundreds of failed conspiracies and revolts, at least eight posed major military challenges to the incumbent regime. Yet, like ancient Rome, Byzantium recognized the special status of the imperial family and the principle that every emperor should nominate his successor in the interests of civil stability. Most successful usurpers belonged to the circle of the emperor’s close associates, and nearly all attempted to consolidate their seizure of power by forming a marriage connection with the family of a former ruler.

  If dynastic succession was not already the norm by the eighth century, it certainly became so in the next four hundred years. An important step in this direction appears to have been taken by the Isaurian dynasty: according to a custom which was probably instituted by Constantine V (741–75), his grandson Constantine VI (780–97) was ‘born in the purple’, that is, in a special palace chamber whose walls were lined with rare porphyry marble. To be ‘purple-born’ (porphyrogenitus) was to enjoy a privileged start in any competition for the throne. The Isaurian dynasty would probably have continued if Constantine VI had not been deposed by his mother Irene, who thereby invited her own deposition. If the man who dethroned her, Nikephoros I (802–11), his son Stavrakios (811), and his son-in-law Michael Rhangabe (811–13) failed to found a major dynasty, this was mainly due to their failure in war against the Bulgars. Leo V the Armenian (813–20), who deposed Michael I, was more successful, but he fell victim to one of his peers, Michael of Amorium, who envied his success, and no sooner had Michael murdered Leo than he faced a massive rebellion by another peer, Thomas the Slav. But Michael II (820–9) eventually defeated Thomas, and acquired respectability by marrying, as his second wife, Euphrosyne, the daughter of Constantine VI. He was succeeded by his son Theophilos (829–42), who in turn left power to his young son Michael III (842–67). Michael’s undoing was not his long minority, but the complete outsider whom he co-opted as junior emperor, Basil the Macedonian. The dynasty founded by Basil I (867–86) lasted for over two centuries; Michael Psellos wrote of it, ‘I believe no family has been favoured by God as theirs has been.’ There were certainly some wobbly moments. Leo VI, after three marriages, scandalized the Church by marrying the woman who finally bore him a male heir. The minority of the young Constantine VII (912–59) was exploited by several ambitious opportunists, starting with his uncle Alexander (912–13) and ending with the commander of the imperial fleet, Romanos Lekapenos, who not only manoeuvred himself into the role of senior emperor and married Constantine to his daughter Helen, but crowned his own sons and gave them precedence over Constantine. The ineptitude of the sons in overthrowing their father and inviting Constantine to join them (944) prevented the establishment of a Lekapenos dynasty. But the premature death of Constantine’s son Romanos II (959–62) encouraged army commanders to seek supreme power at the expense of his young sons Basil and Constantine. Nikephoros II Phokas (963–9) and his murderer and successor John I Tzimiskes (969–76) relegated Basil and Constantine to figurehead roles, and although their reigns were short, they left a legacy of ambition in their relatives and associates. It took Basil II (976— 1025) thirteen years to dispose of the attempted usurpations of Bardas Skleros and Bardas Phokas. Basil himself gave the dynasty a new set of problems by not marrying, so that at his death the dynastic line passed to his aged brother Constantine VIII (1025–8) and to Constantine’s daughters Zoe (1028–52) and Theodora (1042–56). The next four emperors all held power through association with Zoe: Romanos III Argyros (1028–34), Michael IV (1034–42), and Constantine IX Monomachos (1042–55) as her husbands; Michael V (1042) as her adopted son. The arrangement was far from satisfactory either for the empresses, who were excluded from government, apart from a short period of joint rule in 1042 which was not deemed a success, or for the emperors, who were dependent on Zoe for their authority. It was also clear by the time of her second marriage that she was not going to bear a child.

  Greek Fire being hurled at enemy ship from a siphon, here with reference to the naval investment of Constantinople by Thomas the Slav in 821–2. Miniature of the Chronicle of John Skylitzes.

  An emperor prostrate before an enthroned Christ, his prayer being mediated by the Virgin Mary. The emperor is usually identified as Leo VI, but Basil I is also a possible candidate. Mosaic in the narthex of St Sophia, Constantinople, late ninth or early tenth century.

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sp; However, what is ultimately remarkable is the strength of the dynastic principle which enabled the ‘Macedonian’ dynasty to survive all these vicissitudes, and which prevented the intruders from eliminating the minors and the females of the dynastic succession. So great was the respect for the dynasty in its final years that after the deaths of Zoe and her last husband, Constantine IX, Theodora reigned alone and unchallenged (1055–6).

  It was twenty-five years, a period of severe external crisis, before Byzantium filled the gap left by the ‘Macedonian’ dynasty. Michael VI (1056–7), the elderly bureaucrat nominated by Theodora, was only a stop-gap, and Isaac I Komnenos (1057–9), who toppled him, on abdicating passed the throne to Constantine Doukas rather than to a member of his own family. Constantine X (1059–67) and his brother, the Caesar John Doukas, did seriously attempt to start a new dynasty, but Constantine’s son, Michael VII, was unpromising material at such a critical time. Although John Doukas ensured that Mantzikert put paid to the dynastic ambitions of Romanos IV Diogenes (1068–71), who married Constantine X’s widow and fathered two sons by her, and Nikephoros III Botaneiates (1078–81), who overthrew Michael VII, had no progeny, it was only through association with the next successful usurper, Alexios I Komnenos (1081–1118), that the Doukai went down in history as one of the most distinguished Byzantine imperial families.

  Repeating the composition of the Constantine IX and Zoe panel (except that the Virgin and Child has been substituted for Christ), that of John II and his Hungarian wife Irene, placed in the same location, is much finer in execution. The portrait of the red-haired Irene is particularly striking. South gallery of St Sophia, Constantinople.

  The dynastic succession started by Alexios I lasted for over a century in the male line. The Komnenoi were also the longest and the last Byzantine imperial dynasty in the sense that, almost without exception, all the emperors of Constantinople and the Byzantine successor states from 1118 to 1461 were descended from Alexios and used the name Komnenos; the very use of a surname was a significant departure from earlier dynastic precedent. This extraordinary development of the last centuries of Byzantium was due not only to the long reign of Alexios I and his success in dealing with external enemies and external conspiracies, but also to his systematic policy of building the imperial family into the central structure of the imperial constitution. The foundation of his dynastic succession was a dynastic regime in which imperial status did not just pass vertically from generation to generation, but also extended laterally to his whole kin and to the families into which they married, first and foremost the Doukai, the family of Alexios’ own wife Irene. The Macedonian dynasty had not pursued, or at least not prioritized, marriage connections with other families, but Alexios cultivated them assiduously. The result was the emergence, after one generation, of a whole new aristocracy distinguished by vast wealth, princely lifestyle, high military command, kinship to the emperor, and a hierarchy of titles based on the epithet sebastos, the Greek equivalent of ‘augustus’. Alexios I and his son John II (1118–43) were thus able to pass on the succession without challenge from outside the imperial family. There was, however, a growing challenge from within the proliferating imperial family, and this challenge became destructive when Manuel I (1143–80) died leaving an 11-year-old son, Alexios. In deposing and murdering Alexios II (1180–3), Manuel’s cousin Andronikos I (1183–5) made it impossible for himself or the rulers who in turn seized power after him—Isaac II Angelos (1185–95), Isaac’s brother Alexios III (1195–1203), Isaac’s son Alexios IV, and the latter’s murderer Alexios V Doukas ‘Mourtzouphlos’ (1204)—to command the loyalty of the imperial aristocracy and thus to prevent the conquest of Constantinople by the Fourth Crusade.

  The three churches of the monastery of Christ Pantokrator (now Zeyrek Kilise Camii), the principal foundation of the Komnenian dynasty, seen from the east. The biggest of the three churches, on the left, was built by the empress Irene (1118–24), the smaller one on the right a little later by John II. The middle church served as a family mausoleum.

  Byzantine empresses are currently receiving much attention, and it is clear that in the Middle Ages, as well as in Late Antiquity, the women’s quarters (gynaikonitis) of the palace played an important part behind the scenes of imperial and dynastic politics. It is equally clear that empresses were important as wives or mothers, and only appeared centre-stage when their sons were minors (Irene for Constantine VI, Theodora for Michael III, Zoe for Constantine VII, Theophano for Basil II and Constantine VIII, Eudokia for Michael VII, Maria for Alexios II), or when the male succession died out, as happened with Zoe and Theodora at the end of the ‘Macedonian’ dynasty. However, the widowed mother of Alexios I, Anna Dalassena, was indispensable in forming the connections with other families which facilitated the rise and consolidation of the Komnenian dynasty. It was also vital for Alexios’ initial success that he was able to leave her in charge of civil administration in Constantinople while he went off to fight the Empire’s enemies. Later in his reign, Alexios came to rely on his wife, Irene Doukaina, for internal security. The contribution of both women to the regime was glowingly recorded by Alexios’ first-born child, in her biography of her father, the Alexiad, which is unique not only as a piece of Byzantine women’s literature, but also as an expression of frustrated ambition by a woman who felt that she had been born to imperial power.

  Church and State

  Byzantium is rightly described as a theocracy; that is, all Byzantines, including the emperor, considered their supreme ruler to be Christ, the King of Kings. Christ had famously said, ‘My kingdom is not of this world’, and he had used a Roman coin, bearing the emperor’s portrait, to emphasize the very different rights of Caesar and of God. In accordance with these and other biblical statements, Byzantine Christians recognized a clear distinction between their empire and Christ’s kingdom. Insofar as that kingdom was still in the future, in the Second Coming and the Last Judgement, it would supersede all earthly realms, including that of Rome, the last in the series of four world empires prophesied in the Book of Daniel. Insofar as the Kingdom of Heaven was a present reality, as a result of Christ’s ministry on earth, it was represented by the Church, was populated by holy men living an angelic life of solitary or communal asceticism, and was experienced by all believers in the liturgy of the eucharist, celebrated in buildings that were decorated as microcosms of heaven, holy portrait-galleries of angels and saints presided over by the icon of Christ who was conspicuously not attired in imperial garb. The Church had its own space, its own hierarchy, its own rules, its own enormous wealth, its own elective procedures and deliberative assemblies; its integrity consisted in keeping these free from interference by the secular power, and in correcting the moral excesses of rulers. On these basic principles, Byzantium was in full agreement with western Christendom. Indeed, it was from the West that Byzantium took its paradigms of imperial deference to priestly authority: the legend of Constantine’s repentance and baptism at the hands of Pope Silvester I, and St Ambrose’s refusal to let Theodosius I enter the sanctuary of the church after he had authorized the massacre of a circus crowd in Thessalonica.

  However, in a way unparalleled in the West, Byzantium identified the Christian phase of the Roman empire not with the last of the four earthly realms, but with the ‘fifth monarchy’ of Christ, with whom the emperor was said to ‘co-reign’ in a way clearly reminiscent of the thousand-year rule of the saints prophesied in Revelation. This idea of imperial participation in the Kingdom of the Saints was expressed in many ways: in the canonization of Constantine the Great as the ‘thirteenth apostle’; in the designation of ‘holy’ or ‘saint’ formally used of the reigning emperor; in the quasi-priestly role which the emperor assumed when he entered the sanctuary at the beginning of the liturgy, blessed the people, and delivered special sermons (silentia); in the gold coinage, which after Iconoclasm reverted to the pattern, instituted in 692, of placing the image of Christ on the obverse (i.e. the ‘head’ side) of the co
ins and the emperor’s on the reverse; in the Nomokanon, the considerable body of canon law which derived from imperial legislation. The fusion of Church and State was perhaps most obvious in the magnificent chapels of the imperial palace. These had their own clergy, who could be prevailed upon to perform services for the emperor, such as uncanonical marriages, of which the patriarch disapproved. The palace chapels also contained some of the most precious of the holy relics for which Constantinople was famous; the chapel of the Virgin of the Pharos enshrined what were believed to be the principal objects from Christ’s Passion and Crucifixion. After the Fourth Crusade, these found their way to Paris, where they were housed in a purpose-built chapel by Louis IX (St Louis), who incarnated the fusion between Catholic Church and national state in the French ancien régime.

  Yet St Louis belonged to a political and religious culture defined by the Gregorian Reform of the eleventh century, which articulated a clear institutional division between a universal sacred hierarchy headed by the pope in Rome, and the temporal regimes of national kings. Such a division was unthinkable in Byzantium, where the emperor’s palace was in the next block from the patriarch’s cathedral church. Byzantium had its reform movements and its assertive religious leaders, notably the great Photios in the ninth century and Michael Keroularios in the eleventh, who promoted the active superiority of the spiritual power. Significantly, however, both men came to their ecclesiastical vocations from secular political careers. The defeat of Iconoclasm was to some extent a triumph for the Church over imperial ‘tyranny’, but emperors continued to impose the ecclesiastical personnel and the religious agenda they wanted, and it was only their posthumous reputations which suffered. In any case, the most interventionist emperors were also the most conscientious reformers. While the consequence of Gregorian reform in the West was to exclude rulers from ecclesiastical jurisdiction, the Byzantine Church reforms of the eleventh and twelfth centuries led to the formal designation of the emperor as the Church’s epistemonarches, the supreme regulator of ecclesiastical discipline.