ByzReview: Leo the Deacon, Liudprand's Embassy, and the Patria

This time on Byzantine Primary Source Reviews, we’re going to have a look at the second half of the 10^th century; a time of campaigns and conquests, and of great military families vying for power over the throne. 

The nerd-emperor Constantine VII Porphyrogennetos (he devoted his reign to having historical texts compiled; of course he's a nerd, and it's why I love him) died in 959, leaving a relatively stable and secure empire to his son Romanos II (r.959-963), and while the new emperor was content to spend his time enjoying himself in the Palace it fell to a savvy general by the name of Nikephoros Phokas to take the fight to Byzantium’s enemies and win back important frontier territories. The Phokas family (not in any way related to the 6th Century emperor Phokas (r.602-610), confusingly) had been ever present characters in Byzantine history for most of the previous century, Nikephoros’ grandfather having been a powerful general for Leo VI the Wise and odd sixty years before, and Nikephoros’ uncle having been narrowly kept off the throne by Romanos I. After conquering Crete, Nikephoros Phokas received word that his emperor, Romanos II, had just died under mysterious circumstances – leaving two underage children, Basil and Constantine, to succeed him. Taking a leaf out of Romanos I’s book, Nikephoros quickly seized power for himself as the ostensible protector of the young emperor, and soon mounted the throne himself. The relatively short but eventful reign of Nikephoros II (r.963-969) was marked by more conquests, as well as allegations of tyranny, and he was eventually to end up being murdered by his own nephew and confidant, John Tzimiskes. Unlike most other violent seizures of power, that of John I Tzimiskes (r.969-976) seemed to go quite well, and having successfully mounted the throne after assassinating his predecessor John went on to quite a distinguished career as a military emperor. Following on from Nikephoros II’s methods of governance, John I waged wars and subjugated the Bulgarians, all the while keeping the young legitimate emperors, Basil and Constantine, in the background to maintain the illusion of a dynasty. This second militaristic usurper avoided being assassinated himself and eventually succumbed to disease, finally allowing Basil II (r.976-1025) and his brother to assume their birthright and rule on their own. The emperors covered in this section are:

Romanos II                         (959 – 963) – Son of Constantine VII

Nikephoros II Phokas     (963 – 969) – Married the empress Theophano, widow of Romanos

John I Tzimiskes               (969 – 976) – Nephew of Nikephoros

Basil II the ‘Bulgar-Slayer’ (976 – 1025) – Sons of Romanos II

                With Constantine VIII

Nikephoros II Phokas, in a manuscript

The main historical narrative for this period of Byzantine history would be the excellent History of Leo the Deacon, a man focussed on telling us clearly and concisely about the reigns of our two military usurper emperors, Nikephoros II and John I. Though he begins with the reign of Romanos II, Leo the Deacon sets the sights of his narrative on Nikephoros Phokas right from the word go, telling the story of his campaign to recapture Crete, and of Nikephoros’ brother’s defence of the eastern frontiers. The History is divided into ten short books, the first few of which are dedicated to Nikephoros Phokas, and the remaining ones to John Tzimiskes and his reign. There are digressions later on into the reign of Basil II, but overall this is a story of two generals, not of the legitimate ‘purple-born’ emperors from the Macedonian dynasty. Though they are essentially usurpers who intruded onto the throne and deprived Basil and Constantine of power, Leo the Deacon seems to hold a great amount of respect for both Nikephoros and John, showing them to be wise and courageous emperors who, though both having their faults, nevertheless accomplished great things for the empire. Despite acknowledging criticisms of Nikephoros’ heavy-handed rule, and despite revealing in gory detail John Tzimiskes’ brutal murder of Nikephoros, we are left with the impression that these are two of the best emperors of the past century.

The text of Leo the Deacon seems easier than other Byzantine historical narratives, told with a relatively consistent chronological order of events and never digressing too badly from this main narrative. One feature I found rather delightful is Leo’s efforts to classicise his text, particularly in regard to the foreign peoples his heroes make continuous war upon. This is by no means a rare thing in Byzantine writing, as new ethnicities entering the narrative can be far more palatable if they are called Huns, but Leo often almost habitually refers to the other peoples of the Black Sea and Eastern Mediterranean by confusing old-world names – Tauroscythians instead of Russians (usually shortened to Scythians), Mysians instead of Bulgarians, and Carthaginians instead of Fatamid Arabs or North Africans. As I have just mentioned, Leo is by no means unique amongst Byzantines in how he harkens back to the ancient world, but it bears remembering here especially. Overall Leo the Deacon is an important contemporary history for these sixteen years of Byzantine history, and can’t be avoided if you wish to see how the empire was dealing with its neighbours during the later 10^th century.

On to a slightly more interesting historical source for this period. Liudprand of Cremona, whose Antapodasis we briefly discussed in a previous review, later left behind a curious account of his second visit to Constantinople. Liudprand’s Embassy, written about his diplomatic mission to Constantinople in around 968, tells of his personal encounter with Nikephoros II Phokas on behalf of Holy Roman Emperor Otto I. The Cremonese bishop, having already had experience in the Byzantine court, was sent to Nikephoros in order to gain territorial concessions from the Byzantine emperor, and potentially a purple-born bride for a dynastic marriage. Liudprand failed to make any headway with Nikephoros, and in fact suffered some very poor hospitality at Constantinople during this visit. The entire text is little more than a diatribe against the eastern empire, its officials and everything that happened to him during his months as a guest of the Byzantine court. 

Liudprand’s story is essentially just a blow by blow account of what happened, beginning with his arrival in Constantinople and then going on to describe every significant event and meeting with the court he experienced over the course of his time there. His arguments with the emperor and the courtiers are written down word for word (if we trust him, of course), with Liudprand’s own commentary to supplement the speeches, and he complains bitterly at every opportunity about the conditions and disrespect he had to endure.  The house he was given to inhabit was always at an unpleasant temperature, either too hot or freezing cold, he spent most of his time there seriously ill (not the best state of mind for a diplomat to be in), he hated the food, he hated the drink, he hated the entertainment and the ceremonies, and he felt that he was being treated with nothing but utmost contempt. It’s almost as though he’s playing up how bad his experience was, just to make an excuse to his boss as to why he spent four months abroad and failed to get anything to show for it.

                The Embassy of Liudprand is a delicious little text, packed with xenophobic vitriol and bitter complaints, and painting a nasty and unpleasant little picture of Nikephoros Phokas and his government. It presents such a stark contrast to his earlier visit to Constantinople, in which he apparently had an incredibly good time at the feasts of Constantine VII. There was little indication of Liudprand’s disdain for Byzantine imperial pretensions or court ritual, and on the whole he seemed genuinely impressed by the whole spectacle. A decade later he complains endlessly about the food, presents the emperor a vicious little toe-rag, and calls the very basis of Byzantine ideology into question.

                One final source we shall briefly look at here will round off our treatment of the 10^th century. The Patria of Constantinople is a curious little piece, a collection of texts about the buildings, statues and history of Constantinople as it stood in the late 10^th century, assembled out of different pieces of writing composed at different times. The first of the four books of the Patria is a short text that tells the story of the city’s foundation, half legend half fact, first as the city of Byzantium and then its later re-founding  by Constantine the Great as his new imperial capital. Book 2 is much longer, and lists and describes the many statues which could be found in the city, many of which are pagan, whilst Book 3 describes the many important and impressive buildings found throughout the city, predominantly churches. Finally, Book 4 is a largely legendary account of the building of the great church of Hagia Sophia, the current structure of which was commissioned by Justinian I the Great. This last text is rather amusing, for Justinian’s portrayal in this text which was composed long after that emperor’s death has a different tone to the Justinian presented by Procopius and his successors. The intrusion of angels into the narrative, disguised as eunuchs, and Justinian’s interaction with them make this feel a bit more like a fairy story about some legendary king than the vindictive, calculating and power-hungry emperor Justinian portrayed by the histories of earlier writers.

Hagia Sophia, still standing in Istanbul today. Justinian would be proud

                The Patria itself is mixed with both fact and myth, and as such it can be of limited use as a historical source. Some of the story pieces are short and quite readable, particularly the narrative-driven Books 1 and 4, and the catalogues of buildings and statues give some idea about what might have been found in Constantinople in this era of history, but mostly this is a source of only specific uses, such as the Book of Ceremonies and De Administrando Imperio discussed last time. The Patria is an interesting and unique source, and could provide a lot of information for anybody trying to reconstruct the medieval capital of the Roman empire, and it occasionally contains useful snippets of information or history. Perhaps it’s worth a read.

                The three sources discussed here are all thoroughly enjoyable and worthwhile to those of us interested in late 10^th century Byzantium. From the historical narrative of Leo the Deacon which shows us the campaigns of two powerful usurper-emperors, to the Patria which gives us a nice little window onto the history and architecture of the capital, and Liudprand’s Embassy which shows us a gorgeous and hateful snapshot of the imperial court and foreign policy under Nikephoros II Phokas, these three sources are well worth having a look at, by anybody.

Bibliozantium 12

Leo Diaconus et al. C.B. Hase (ed). Bonn. [Corpus Scriptorum Historiae Byzantinae], 30, (1828)

Leo the Deacon. The History of Leo the Deacon – Byzantine Military Expansion in the Tenth Century. Translated by A.M. Talbot and D.F. Sullivan. Washington D.C: Harvard University Press. [Dumbarton Oaks Studies], 41, (2005)

Liudprand of Cremona. The Complete Works of Liudprand of Cremona. Translated by. P. Squatriti [Medieval Texts in Translation], Washington D.C: The Catholic University of America Press. (2007)

Accounts of Medieval Constantinople – The Patria. Translated by Albrecht Berger. Washington D.C: Harvard University Press. [Dumbarton Oaks Medieval Library], 24, (2013)