ByzReview: Theophanes Continuatus and Genesios

Following the end of the first Iconoclastic period, the Byzantine empire fell into a period of political upheaval matched by a series of invasions from neighbouring peoples – most notably the Bulgarians. A line of short-lived emperors, brought down by several defeats from a particularly fearsome Bulgarian khan (one who memorably turned a defeated Byzantine emperor’s skull into a drinking goblet), gave way to a new wave of Iconoclasts, who will be the subject of this month’s Byzantine Book Review.

                The chronicle of Theophanes the Confessor, which I looked at in the last primary sources review, proved to be such an enduring work of history in the highest levels of Byzantine society that its most avid fan was none-other than the emperor himself. When the 10^th century emperor Constantine VII (r.913-959) wished to record the rise of his family to greatness and power, he

An Icon of the Virgin Mary. This is what all the fuss was about

requested his court-historians to continue the thread of Byzantine historical narrative from where Theophanes left off. The result was a peculiar series of historical texts authored for Constantine VII anonymously, a collection known today as Theophanes Continuatus. Unlike the chronicle of Theophanes which it purports to continue, this text is not a rigidly laid-out year-by-year account of everything that occurred in and around the empire, but is instead a series of histories each concerned with the reign and character of the five main emperors of the 9^th century: Leo V the Armenian (r.813-820), the three Amorian emperors Michael II ‘the Stammerer’ (r. 820-829), Theophilos (r.829-842), and Michael III ‘the Drunkard’ (842-867), and the renowned Basil I the Macedonian (867-886), the founder of Byzantium’s longest-lived dynasty. A further chunk of this Theophanes Continuatus takes the narrative into the middle of the 10^th century, but for the purposes of this review I shall be treating that as a separate text, to be examined at a later time.

                The first portion of Theophanes Continuatus covers the reigns of Leo V, Michael II, Theophilos and Michael III. It tells the story of three prominent men; Leo the Armenian, Michael the Amorian, and Thomas the Slav, and how they would all vie for the throne duing the early 9^th century. Leo the Armenian seizes the throne first, deposing the previous emperor Michael I Rhangabe after this emperor was defeated by the Bulgarians. Leo, in imitation of his namesake Leo III the Isaurian, is convinced to restart the persecution of image-worshippers, thereby undoing all of the hard work performed by the empress Irene and the Patriarchs Tarasios and Nikephoros decades before. Fearing for his life from his powerful friend Michael the Armorian, Leo has this man imprisoned, only to end up forcing his enemies to act against him – resulting in his own assassination. Michael, still wearing chains, is elevated to the throne just in time to find himself embroiled in a civil war with his old ally Thomas the Slav, who has raised a massive army and is now stamping around Anatolia. Eventually Thomas’ rebellion collapses and Michael II is able to stabilize the empire, though he is unwilling to lift the ban on images instituted by his predecessor. He dies and is succeeded by his son Theophilos, a vehement iconoclast – though one who is very keen on justice, and whose beautification and extension of the palace provokes a detailed comment from the writer of the text. When Theophilos dies at last, his young son Michael III succeeds him as emperor, though due to his youth, power is exercised by Michael’s mother Theodora and her relatives. As in the previous case of Iconoclasm, the ban on image-worship is put to an end by an empress mother acting on behalf of her young son, and the empire seemingly breathes a sigh of relief now that the controversy has finally been settled after another thirty years of unpleasantness. Unfortunately Michael proves to be an incapable ruler, frivolous and unsuited to power, and always under the shadow of more powerful people – most notably his uncle, the caesar Bardas. Both are to be murdered during the ascension of a particularly noteworthy figure; a horse-tamer from Macedonia by the name of Basil.

Here is a timeline of the emperors of the 9^th century, after Eirene and up to the start of the Macedonian dynasty:

Nikephoros I                (802 – 811)

           

Staurakios                   (811) – Son of Nikephoros I. Ruled as a paralytic for two months

Michael I Rhangabe     (811 – 813) – Son-in-law of Nikephoros I, brother-in-law of Staurakios

Leo V the Armenian     (813 – 820) – Overthrew Michael I, restarted Iconoclasm

           

*Michael II the Amorian (820 – 829) – Assassinated Leo V. Civil war with Thomas the Slav
*Theophilos                   (829 – 842) – Son of Michael II

           

*Michael III                 (842 – 867) – Son of Theophilos

           

Basil I the Macedonian             (867 – 886) – Murdered Michael III. Founder of the Macedonian dynasty

                                [* Amorian Dynasty]

The Icon of the Triumph of Orthodoxy; an Icon celebrating the right to have Icons

Section two of Theophanes Continuatus – also known as Book 5 (Books 1-4 having covered the reigns of the previous four emperors) – is generally known as the Vita Basilii, the Life of Basil, and is longer than all of the previous chapters of Theophanes Continuatus put together. Assembled by his adoring grandson and bookworm Constantine VII, this account of the life and reign of the emperor Basil I is an attempt to write a full and glowing history of this one emperor – his meteoric rise to power, his military successes, his extensive building projects, and his general good works. In many ways this ‘historical’ text has more in common with a piece of hagiography, describing his birth in messianic terms, how the young Basil the Macedonian was descended from Armenian princes, Constantine the Great and Alexander the Great, how he was repeatedly offered a sun-shade in his crib by a friendly eagle, and how he was prophesied to take the throne and accomplish great things (easy to write about prophesied events when writing in hindsight, isn’t it?)

                Whilst almost cringe-worthy in its praising of everything Basil did, the great and holy emperor who could do no wrong, the Vita Basilii is nevertheless a fascinating text packed with intriguing detail. Basil I’s campaigns in the east and his foreign policy issues in the west take up a huge section of the narrative, while the last third of the text describes in overwhelming minutiae all the building operations, restorations and donations which were made on the churches and palace of the capital. In terms of historical objectivity however, this is one text that very much wears its heart on its sleeve. Constantine VII, under whose direct authorization it was written – with the preface having been actually written by him, apparently – was very much producing a piece of propaganda in favour of his own family. The previous regime was weak and corrupt, and Basil was God-sent to claim the throne. Basil’s murder of the Caesar Bardas and Michael III was perfectly justified, and any wrong-doing by this man is brushed-off as the work of bad-advisors. The chaos of Iconoclasm and bad rulership is put to an end once and for all by the great, holy and decent emperor, Basil the Macedonian.

                It is now time to look at another historical narrative for the 9th century, and alongside the five books of Theophanes Continuatus one will be able to see a number parallels. Just like the previous source, this one was also compiled in the court of Constantine VII, and again it covers the reigns of these same five emperors. The history of Genesios – sometimes believed to be named Joseph Genesios – is a fairly concise history of the reigns of Leo V, Michael II, Theophilos, Michael III and Basil I, and for the most part reproduces information found in Theophanes Continuatus. Just like the other historical accounts of this period, Genesios appears to have undertaken his project to write a pleasing and flattering diatribe against the Amorian emperors, under the instruction of Constantine VII. One might ask why our beloved imperial bookworm would have needed two different historical accounts of the same period, and in all honesty I don't think anyone has a convincing answer for this. When reading both, it is not unusual to read sections that you feel you’ve already read in the other book, because most likely you have. It’s a similar feeling one gets when comparing Theophanes the Confessor with the Short History of the Patriarch Nikephoros; both men lived at the same time, hung out in the same circles, and used the same sources to write about the same period of history. With Genesios and the anonymous author of Theophanes Continuatus you might get a very similar feeling.

                Genesios however is not quite a pure reproduction of Theophanes Continuatus, or vice versa. Genesios seems to devote a little less space to the reigns of Leo V and Michael the Stammerer, while his short book on Theophilos is less concerned with the character and reign of Theophilos himself, but rather with the stories of two generals in his service. This peculiar and chronologically wayward account of events which occurred during Theophilos’ reign then leads into to the reign of Michael III, and his befriending of and replacement by our friend Basil the Macedonian. Whereas Theophanes Continuatus devotes a massive book to Basil alone, which takes on a very different style to the preceding section, in Genesios we find Basil’s reign simply continues on from Michael’s with no clear change in tone, albeit that he is much nicer about this emperor than the others. This is not to say that Genesios is any more objective in his writing of Basil’s history; Basil is still portrayed as a great and holy emperor who brings wicked little Michael III’s regime to an end, saves the empire, and dies having done many good works. The same silly little 'messianic' anecdotes are reproduced, just in a shorter, chattier and less preachy fashion. In many ways Genesios seems to be a leaner, stripped-out version of Theophanes Continuatus.

                Overall then, as long as one takes into account the biases against and for this group of emperors, we have here a very interesting and amusing couple of historical sources for 9^th century Byzantium. Leo V’s Iconoclasm, Michael II’s struggle with Thomas the Slav, Theophilos’ eastern wars and building projects, and Michael III’s misguided, drunken rule are described in a fair amount of detail, while the hero-worshipping accounts of Basil I’s reign can actually supply a decent amount of fairly useful information. As this was the period of the Second Iconoclasm, one can also expect to find a few relatively useful hagiographical sources which describe the ‘brave’ resistance by the Iconophiles against the wicked and evil Iconoclastic emperors and their supporters. This is only to be expected, as at the end of the day the Iconophiles won, and history is more often than not written by the victors. Anyway, good hagiographies that are currently available in English translation include the Life of Michael the Synkellos, the Life of the Patriarch Nikephoros (the same one who wrote the Short History reviewed last time, and who lost his job at the resurrection of Iconoclasm), the Life of the empress Theodora, who was Michael III’s mother and who turned out to be a bit better than Eirene at putting an end to Iconoclasm, and finally the Life of the Patriarch Ignatios, who spent most of his time battling against the famous Patriarch Photios. If you’ve read one hagiography, then you’ve pretty much read them all – although the incidental historical details within the narrative are never the same, and they are always a good window into non-elite perspectives on contemporary issues. In particular the famous incident of Michael the Synkellos' mates having insulting verses tattooed on their foreheads by Theophilos is worth a read, and Ignatios' battle with Photios is a very important event in Byzantine history. At the end of the day they aren’t usually that long, and if you want to get deeper into a particular issue such as Iconoclasm, then hagiographies such as these can occasionally offer some useful insights.

Bibliozantium 9

Theophanes Continuatus: Chronographia, I. Bekker (ed). Bonn. [Corpus Scriptorum Historiae Byzantinae], 45, (1838).

Theophylactus Simocatta et Genesius. Theophylacti Simmocattae Historiarum Libri Octo. I. Bekker (ed). Bonn. [Corpus Scriptorum Historiae Byzantinae], 46, (1834).

Chronographiae Quae Theophanis Continuati Nomine Fertur Libri  I-IV. M. Featherstone and J. Signes Codoner (eds). Berlin: Walter de Gruyter. [Corpus Fontium Historiae Byzantinae], 53, (2015).

Chronographiae Quae Theophanis Continuati Nomine Fertur Libri  Quo; Vita Basilii Imperatoris Amplectitur. Ihor Ševčenko (ed). Berlin: Walter de Gruyter. [Corpus Fontium Historiae Byzantinae], 42, (2011).

Iosephi Genesii regum libri quattuor. A. Lesmueller-Werner and I. Thurn (eds). Berlin: Walter de Gruyter. [Corpus Fontium Historiae Byzantinae], 14, (1978).

Genesios: On the Reigns of the Emperors. A. Kaldellis (trans). Canberra: Australian Association for Byzantine Studies. [Byzantina Australiensa], 11, (1998).

David, Niketas. The Life of Patriarch Ignatius. A. Smithies (ed). Washington D.C: Dumbarton Oaks. [Corpus Fontium Historiae Byzantinae], 51, (2013).

The Life of Michael the Synkellos. M.B. Cunningham (ed). Belfast: Belfast Byzantine Enterprises. [Belfast Byzantine Texts and Translations], 1, (1991).

Talbot, AM. (ed). Byzantine Defenders of Images – Eight Saints’ Lives in English Translation. Washington D.C: Dumbarton Oaks. [Byzantine Saints’ Lives in Translation], 2, (1998).

                [Helpful Gnotation: Okay, this bibliography is an actual bibliography this time, and may require a bit of interpretation. The first two entries are the 19^th century Bonn Greek editions of Theophanes Continuatus and Genesios, and whilst being freely available on Google Books are of no use to anyone who can’t read the slightest bit of archaic Greek or Latin. They are also lumped in with a number of other Byzantine historical texts which have little relation to them. The ones underneath them, with the long Latin titles, are the latest scholarly editions of both texts. Books 1-4 of Theophanes Continuatus are in one volume, while Book 5 the so called Vita Basilii are in a separate one. Both of these have facing-page English translation, and so are brilliant for laymen like me. The latest edition of Genesios underneath that does not have an English translation, but thankfully a separate translation of the text was prepared in Australia, so that’s the one you probably want. The two entries underneath that are English editions and translations of the Lives of Michael the Synkellos and Ignatios, while the final entry is a collection of translations of Byzantine Saints’ Lives, including amongst them the Lives of Patriarch Nikephoros and the empress Theodora, as well as a couple of others from this period. Take your pick; they’re all fascinating].

The Once and Future King, by T.H. White

So once again I sit here and try to think up words to describe what I’ve been reading. A hard task this time, because what I’ve read is quite an oddball in terms of literature. T.H. White’s masterpiece, The Once and Future King, is a fairly long conglomerate of semi-fantasy novels retelling of the legend of King Arthur as seen from the other side of the Second World War. This book is peculiar, at times quite dark, at other times very sad, but it must be said that it is quite justified in existing. Despite its length, its wild changes in tone and style, and its confusing subject matter, it is nonetheless quite easy to read, draws you onwards, and makes you consider a number of issues whilst giving you an insight into the complete tale of King Arthur.

          After the publication of The Sword in the Stone, a fairly comical and somewhat childish tale of King Arthur’s anonymous childhood and tutelage under the wizard Merlyn, T.H. White decided to continue his story all the way through the fantastic and tragic career of Britain’s legendary hero-king – The Sword in the Stone essentially forming the prologue to his whole narrative. As I have already covered this first book in a previous review, and discussed the implications of the two separate versions which currently exist, I will move straight on to the remaining books of this sprawling novel – of which there are four more. The second book, The Witch in the Wood – originally titled The Queen of Air and Darkness – takes place not long after Arthur’s coronation, and tells of his struggle to rule the divided and war-torn kingdom. The character of Queen Morgause of Orkney, Arthur’s step-sister and one skilled in witchcraft, is the figure who looms large in this book, and her four children, future knights of the Round Table Gawaine, Agravaine, Gaheris and Gareth, take part in some of the most significant and memorable scenes. Aside from these factors, and Arthur’s struggle with the question of how to properly rule his kingdom, The Witch in the Wood is mostly just setting-up for the rest of the narrative in The Once and Future King.

          Whereas the plot of Book 2 takes place within a year of King Arthur’s life, the third book The Ill-Made Knight spans whole decades. In this tale Arthur takes a back seat while Sir Lancelot fulfils the role of protagonist, joining the newly-formed Round Table, becoming King Arthur’s greatest knight and confidant, winding up in a love affair with Arthur’s wife Queen Guinever, embarking on a number of quests (including one for the Holy Grail), and generally getting into scuffles with other, more stupid, knights – whom he inevitably defeats. Lancelot’s and Guinever’s affair is the main subject of this novel, lasting for many years and at times driving one or the other of them mad, while Arthur tries in vain to rule the kingdom justly and introduce his ideal of chivalry to his knights and barons. Book 4, The Candle in the Wind, brings the various threads of these stories together into a climactic and catastrophic conclusion to the whole story, as the rebellious members of the Orkney Clan (Gawaine, Agravaine, Gaheris, Gareth, and the sinister Mordred) expose Lancelot and Guinever’s affair, destroying the unity of the Round Table for good and driving Arthur’s kingdom into civil war. Book 5, The Book of Merlin, I will discuss in a moment.

          The thing which started all this off, White’s first Arthurian novel The Sword in the Stone,

was a whimsical and humorous little fantasy which in many ways seems far removed from his subsequent, darker attempts to retell the story of King Arthur and his knights. If one is reading this work in its entirety, and has succeeded in getting through the first book, then the first indications of this darker direction for the story can be seen in The Witch in the Wood. The opening chapter involves the young Orkney brothers discussing their bleak family history, while their mother Morgause below them is boiling a cat alive as part of a magical rite. In between the narrative of Arthur debating simple politics and philosophy with Merlyn we get some more light-hearted scenes with the return of King Pellinore, of Questing Beast fame, and his overly British love-sick pining for a woman he has fallen in love with. These humorous scenes recall the lighter tone of the first book, but they are juxtaposed to incredibly dark scenes of the Orkney clan – one of which involves the children butchering a unicorn, an amazingly-written but nevertheless upsetting and slightly nauseating piece. These strange mixtures are gone by the time we get to Book 3, when the narrative has morphed into a full-on retelling of the Arthurian legend.

          Book 3, The Ill-Made Knight, is one of the hardest to get through. It’s still a good story, but I find myself caring less for Sir Lancelot than I really should be, and the plot seems to veer around quite a bit. This is probably a natural side-effect of trying to build a story around the medieval romances of King Arthur and Sir Lancelot, and White has done well to give us a few gems of great storytelling and a nevertheless interesting story, but at times it feels that it lacks direction and one can get a bit tired of these unhappy lovers. All in all, though, it is with Book 4 that the story really comes together, when natural rifts in the Round Table, the Orkney Clan, and Arthur’s family all conspire to ruin everything that the good king attempted for the good of humanity. The story of The Candle in the Wind clanks onwards towards its conclusion as though inevitable, and Arthur’s dreams are finished for good. While again we find a little bit of clunkiness in this part of the narrative, the story progresses far more naturally here than in previous books, and it contains I believe some of White’s finest writing. The final chapter, in which Arthur stands a sleepless vigil on the night before his final battle with Mordred – one which he is destined not to survive – is truly a memorable conclusion to the whole narrative.

          I say conclusion, because when it was originally published as a complete work in 1958 The Once and Future King consisted only of books 1 to 4. The fifth book, the Book of Merlin, although it had already been written and intended for inclusion into the work, was left out of the final piece. White had been thwarted by his publishers, and so the narrative ended as a broken Arthur prepares himself for his own doom. The modern edition, however, now has Book 5 appended to the text as it rightfully should have been, and brings the entire story full circle. At the moment Book 4 ends Arthur is visited by none other than his old tutor, Merlyn the magician, who whisks the old king away to an underground room he once visited when he was still a child called Wart. There, sitting around a conference table, are all the animals he met and befriended thanks to Merlyn’s lessons – the owl Archimedes, the badger, the hedgehog, the grassnake, the goat, Balin the hawk, and Arthur’s old dog Cavall. These individuals, all sentient and anthropomorphic and therefore able to talk, have been discussing and debating about human nature and human failings for a long long time, and under the insistence of Merlyn have been trying to work out what to do with mankind. In the course of their debates, and their attempts to expose the king to modern political concepts such as Communism, Fascism and Anarchism, Merlyn and his council turn Arthur into an ant, and then a goose, to show him how politics works in nature. After heated debates, Arthur is led outside by the hedgehog to experience nature for the last time, before he heads back to his camp at the battlefield with new resolve about what to do. The final chapter simply recounts how, after the sudden breakdown of negotiations between Arthur and Mordred, the final battle takes place, Guinever enters a monastery, Lancelot becomes a hermit, and how nobody knows exactly what happens to King Arthur. A number of different stories for Arthur’s end, from different writers, are briefly detailed, as well as how one or two medieval kings of England reputedly dug up Arthur’s grave.

          The subject-matter and story of Book 5 is much more blunt and open about the allegory behind White’s story – the Second World War, and modern political ideology. Whereas in earlier parts of the story White attempts to be a tad more subtle (not too subtle, though), with Arthur’s attempt to tame what he calls the Principle of Might, or ‘Force Majeure’ – i.e. that Might is Right – through the creation of the Round Table, and then through rigorously upholding the written law. Book 5 throws any such attempt at allegory out the window – Merlyn and his animals are discussing modern-day international problems, trying to find natural examples of war amongst animals, and proposing solutions to the constant violence and oppression that exists in the human species. There is so much dialogue here, most of which comes from Merlyn himself, that one gets the impression that T.H. White has had enough of storytelling and simply wishes to get his undiluted opinions across to the reader. This is where The Once and Future King is at its weakest, as a complete story.

          Overall, the posthumous inclusion of The Book of Merlyn in The Once and Future King is a good thing, as it finally brings the story of King Arthur to an actual close whilst at the same time bringing White’s version of the story back to its roots, with Arthur’s childhood excursions under Merlyn’s tutelage. It means the story is no longer left hanging before Arthur’s final battle – though I have to say I do quite like this original ending, as it has a certain power about it. There are problems however, with Book 5, problems that hangover from the discussion I had about the two separate versions of The Sword in the Stone which currently exist. Unable to include Book 5 alongside the rest of the books, White must have decided to place what he considered to be the most important sections into the body of Book 1 – hence we find the sections where Arthur is transformed into an ant and then a goose neatly cut-and-pasted into Book 1. While this was probably a boon in the original publication, when Book 5 was appended to the text at later date the revised Sword in the Stone still contained these scenes, thereby meaning Book 5 repeats sections which have already happened. As well as that, Book 5 is still under the impression that the first edition of The Sword in the Stone is the one it is following on from, to the extent that it references characters and events which were edited out of the first book. The grassnake, which once had a chapter all to himself, was removed from Book 1 when it was included in The Once and Future King, and I believe that the goat, too, suffered erasure when Madam Mim, from whose clutches he rescued Arthur, found herself edited out of the novel. These oversights are only of mild annoyance, but it only shows up the poor editorial history of this novel when you read The Once and Future King and end up wondering who or what the hell T. Natrix is. In an ideal, ultimate edition of this novel, I feel that certain sections and chapters ought to be restored to The Sword in the Stone, whilst counterbalancing this with some of the better revisions White made to his earlier novel. It would be quite a headache to do, and of course we cannot ask for the author’s permission, but I feel that it can be done if a brave and competent editor were to take on the challenge. But alas! All we have to deal with for the foreseeable future is what we have at the moment.

          So overall, despite its variable plot, its weird editorial history, and its length, The Once and Future King is a brilliant work of literature. T.H. White’s style is simple yet graceful, reader-friendly but rewarding to appreciate, and his obvious passion for this story and setting can make up for any flaws that the novel may have. At times this book can give us raw and irreproachable beauty, moments of storytelling and emotion which far surpass anything I have seen from supposedly better writers, and there are things from this book which will remain with me for a long time to come. While White’s attempt to view his own chaotic world through the lens of a medieval fantasy is a strange idea which arguably is a bit trite, his devotion to the story of Thomas Malory’s Le Morte d’Arthur, his love of medieval Britain and his sense of the natural world gives his own work a unique flavour that makes it genuinely worth experiencing.

         

Bibliorie

White, T.H. The Once and Future King – The Complete Edition. London: HarperCollins (1996 [First published 1958])

White, T.H. The Sword in the Stone. London: Fontana Lions. (1971 [First published 1938])