ByzReview: Procopius of Caesarea

The Roman Empire after Justinian's reconquests

In Byzantine history, there is no figure quite so monumental as the emperor Justinian the Great. Ruling from 527 to 565, this emperor was responsible for initiating the dramatic reconquest of Africa and Italy, provinces lost to the Roman empire since the previous century, and his building projects and legal codification ensured his legacy would be felt for the remainder of Byzantine history – if not history in general. It is primarily through the writings of his court historian Procopius of Caesarea that we get the strongest picture of this controversial figure and his reign, and that Procopius’ own writings show many different facets of Justinian’s works and character only makes this period more fascinating.

The Emperor Justinian and his cronies, in the San Vitale mosaics in Ravenna, Italy

                Procopius himself is an oddity in terms of Byzantine historians, leaving behind several works of wildly differing character. On the one hand we have a largely factual, 'Classicisizing' account of the wars of Justinian, then a panegyric about Justinian’s building projects, and finally a vicious, nasty little indictment of every aspect of Justinian’s reign, character and policies. The bulk of Procopius’ work is his Wars of Justinian, which takes up some two-thirds of the total corpus of his writings, in which he recounts the three major wars that occurred during the majority of Justinian’s reign: the Persian War (c.526-532), the Vandalic War (533-534), and the Gothic Wars (535-554). With this being such a long and, seemingly, rather dry piece of work, I haven't yet finished reading it in its entirety. I've only gotten to the end of book 1, to be exact. Likewise, the Buildings, while probably a fascinating book and much shorter than the Wars, I haven't gotten round to reading yet. The thing is, I wanted to get stuck in to that most famous of Procopius’ works: the notorious Secret History.

Hagia Sophia, constructed during Justinian's reign. Isn't it pretty?

                This shorter piece of Procopius, sometimes called the Anecdota, is a curious little example of the two-faced sycophant. Whereas in his earlier works Procopius is respectful and praising of Justinian, his policies, and his talented general Belisarius, in the Secret History we get nothing but scorn and ridicule for everything he once praised. Belisarius is presented as a weak-willed fool who lives at the mercy of his adulterous wife, while Justinian is a semi-demonic tyrant who stops at nothing to suck all the wealth out of the Roman empire and ruin anybody and everybody, and this is nothing to say of Justinian’s wife, the empress Theodora. In the earlier histories Theodora plays a very minor and occasional part in the proceedings, but in the Secret History she almost eclipses Justinian himself with her graphically lurid backstory, her wilfulness, and the power she has over the empire. She is shown as nothing less than a sex-crazed maniac who originated as a stage-performing stripper, a prostitute and concubine who literally screwed her way from Egypt to Constantinople, around the entire eastern Mediterranean. Here is a choice excerpt from the section on Theodora:

                ‘She used to tease her lovers by lounging around with them, and by constantly toying with novel methods of intercourse she could always draw the attention of the lascivious to her; so far from waiting to be approached by anyone she encountered, she herself by cracking dirty jokes and wiggling her hips suggestively would invite all who came her way, especially if they were beardless youths. Never was anyone so completely given up to unlimited self-indulgence.

                ‘Often she would go to a bring-your-own-food dinner party with ten or more youths, all at the peak of their physical prowess and with sex their trade, and she would lie with all her fellow-diners the whole night through; and when she had worn them all out she would turn to their servants, as many as thirty on occasion, and copulate with every one of them – but even so could not satisfy her lust.’

                [Translation by G.A. Williamson and P. Sarris, Penguin Classics edition, 2007. pp.37-38]

                And there are people out there who think history is boring?

The Empress Theodora in the San Vitale Mosaics in Ravenna. Notice how she's still wearing clothes and not screwing everything in reach 

Of course, we must be aware that there is a reason Procopius is presenting Theodora in such a way; for the same reason that Belisarius’ wife, Antonina, is vilified beforehand – to attack their husbands, to present them as unmanly and ruled by the tyranny of lustful women. I don’t wish to go into too deep an analysis of this Anecdota, as that is the realm of scholarship, and not my mere review. I will content myself with saying that we must be careful about what we read – especially this. We have no way of knowing if this representation of Theodora has any historical truth. What matters is that Procopius is presenting a particularly nasty image of this empress in order to pour scorn upon her, and therefore to further denigrate Justinian alongside her.

Overall, the Secret History isn’t actually much of a history. There’s no narrative, as such, but rather a collection of anecdotes (as the name Anecdota might imply). The first short part of the book pokes ridicule at Belisarius and his wife, before it moves onto a damning picture of Justinian and Theodora who, as Procopius says, ‘destroyed the fortunes of the Roman Empire’ [Penguin, 2007. pg.25]. After first describing the ignoble origins of these two characters, the history moves on to describing in tedious vehemence every wrongful policy that the emperor and empress ever made, be it letting the Circus Factions run riot in the streets, playing groups and people off against one another, trusting in corrupt officials or levying wealth from every class of people under the sun. Everything is explained with a brief little example, of instances where Justinian or one of his officials performs some evil deed, and Procopius never pulls his punches when it comes to making a judgement. We get nothing but a picture of tyranny and evil, and far from being Justinian ‘the Great’, this emperor and his wife have driven the Roman empire straight into the ground, never resting in their efforts to ruin absolutely everything. There are no redeeming characteristics, nothing good ever happens, and the downfall of civilisation seems to be just around the corner. Procopius would have made a good ‘Daily Mail’ columnist today.

Byzantine Follis from Justinian's reign, minted in Kyzikos

So that’s the roundup of Procopius of Caesarea, with an added review of his notorious Secret History. If you want non-stop armchair generalship, read his Wars (all eight books’-worth). If you want a panegyric, then maybe read the Buildings. But if you want juicy character assassination rhetoric, something that smacks of pessimism and is very much the opposite of the obsequious, flattering account written about a living, reigning autocrat, then Procopius’ Secret History is well-worth a look.

Bibliozantium 4

Procopius. In 3 volumes. K.W. Dindorf (ed). Bonn. [Corpus Scriptorum Historiae Byzantinae], 40,41,42, (1833,1833,1838).

Procopius of Caesarea. History of the Wars . In 7 volumes.  transl. by H.B. Dewing. [Loeb Classical Library]. London and New York.

-          1. [L048], (1914) –  The Persian War

-          2. [L081], (1916) – The Vandalic War

-          3. [L107], (1919) – The Gothic War

-          4. [L173], (1924) – The Gothic War – cont.

-          5. [L217], (1928) – The Gothic War – cont.

-          6. [L290], (1969) – The Anecdota or Secret History

-          7. [L343], (1971) – Buildings

Procopius. The Secret History. transl. by G.A. Williamson and P. Sarris. London: Penguin. Revised edition. (2007).

[There are dozens of editions and translations of the Secret History available, many of them freely available on the internet. As with most ancient texts, the most recent Penguin Classics translation will be most useful for anybody who just wants to get a rough sense of the text without needing to go too far in. The Loeb edition is good because, like all the best editions, it presents its translation opposite the original language of the text. Plus, the Loeb collection contains translations of all of Procopius’ works, so if you wanted the entire thing, you need go no further].

ByzReview: John Malalas, Chronicle

The Byzantine empire was heir to both the Roman and Hellenistic world on the one hand, as well as the Biblical one on the other. Nowhere can this be seen more clearly than in their histories, composed in one form or another from the earliest years of the empire – whenever that began – until after the fall of Constantinople in 1453 CE. One of the earliest of these ‘Byzantine’ histories was the world chronicle of John Malalas, writing during or just after the reign of the emperor Justinian I (527-565). This long and colourful historical narrative stretches from a time of Biblical legends to the middle years of the 6^th century, telling a few wild stories on the way.

                The chronicle is comprised of eighteen books, varying in length from short to very long. The earlier books are mostly a hotchpotch mishmash of Greek and Biblical legend, with significant chunks devoted to the Trojan War and the Odyssey, the fall of Jerusalem, and a cute little account of the rise of the Roman empire, while later books give a garbled version of the reigns of the various Roman emperors. If you want an accurate picture of the empire under Trajan, Diocletian and Constantine the Great, then there are much better sources to go for than this one. Meanwhile the earlier books concerning myth and legend seem to offer a creative take on Greek gods and heroes, presenting them as human kings and progenitors rather than as the immortal folk of ancient legend. This is probably an attempt by the chroniclers to reconcile their ancient legends to the new Christian religion. Malalas himself offers an explanation for these myths and legends, stating that:

                “... later generations, who were not aware of their ancestors’ attitude – that they honoured these men as forefathers and devisers of good only as a memorial – revered them and sacrificed to them as if they were heavenly gods and not mortal men who were born and suffered like themselves. The most learned Diodoros comments on this in his writings, saying that the gods were men whom other men addressed as gods, thinking them immortal because of their good deeds; in some cases even rulers of territories were named in this way. Men did this because they were full of ignorance.”*

[The Chronicle of John Malalas, translated by E. Jeffreys, M. Jeffreys and R. Scott. Melbourne: 1986. (pp. 26-27). Page 52 to 53 in the original Bonn Greek edition]

                An interestingly rational view for a 6^th century chronicler to have, but it makes sense if you consider he wants to explain away the divinity of the old gods as simply as possible in the context of a largely secular history of the world. All in all, these early books of Malalas’ chronicle present a vaguely interesting story that never gets bogged down in the nitpicking arguments made by George the Synkellos. Malalas is only interested in presenting events in a roughly chronological narrative and in telling a story, rather than tying down certain events to a precise date – and as such his work is significantly less tedious and more interesting than the Synkellos’ ever was. 

                Which is just as well, because in terms of historical accuracy this thing is awful. The chronicle’s history of the Macedonian and Roman empires is littered with inaccuracies and problems, misdating and misunderstanding the events it tries to present. This is not too much of a problem, for many better sources exist for those centuries, and if you happen to be familiar with the history of the Roman empire it can sometimes be amusing to see how much Malalas gets right, and what sort of errors he makes. In regards to the historical content however it must be asserted that Malalas is only trying to present a synopsis of world history – while better sources still exist for Roman history as a whole, Malalas’ gaze is fixed on his home city of Antioch in the eastern Mediterranean. Emperors come and go, but the marks they leave on Antioch remain, and thus it is in these references where Malalas’ history of the Roman empire might be regarded as more useful.

                But with every chronicler, the most useful part of their history is always that which recounts the history of their own life-times. Inevitably this means the final sections of any chronicle will be the most valuable to someone interested in the history. With Theophanes the Confessor, the most important part of his work was for the period of the First Iconoclasm, which Theophanes himself experienced first-hand. For John Malalas it is his accounts of the reigns of the Leonid emperors (Leo I and his family) and their successors, especially Justinian the Great. The final (and quite lengthy) book of the chronicle is entirely devoted to this one period of history. In essence, things get more interesting from Book 14 onwards:

Book 14: Theodosius II     (408-450) – Son of Arcadius

                Marcian              (450-457) – Married Theodosius’ sister Pulcheria

                Leo I                   (457-474)

                Leo II                  (474)          – Infant grandson of Leo I, who dies young

Book 15: Zeno                   (474-491) – Leo I’s son-in-law, father of Leo II

Book 16: Anastasius I        (491-518) – Married Ariadne, daughter of Leo I, widow of Zeno

Book 17: Justin I                (518-527)

Book 18: Justinian I           (527-565) – Nephew of Justin I

In between the interesting stories of Zeno’s battles with his mother-in-law, Anastasius’ wars and the Nika revolt under Justinian, we see that Malalas is very interested in the circus factions across the empire; namely the Blues, Greens, Reds and Whites. These groups, a cross between sports-teams and political parties, are continuously brought up in Malalas’ chronicle, from their earliest days under the Roman empire for which their creation and naming is explained in an over-logical way typical of the chronicle, right up to the reign of Justinian when they played an important role in the Nika revolt (see: Riots). Often the most defining characteristic of any emperor is which faction they support, to the detriment of the others. They took chariot-racing seriously, it seems.

So then, a few concluding remarks. This chronicle is infinitely more digestible than that of George the Synkellos, more concerned with narrative and characters than in theological argument. The earlier books can be considered an interesting and somewhat amusing detour round the Byzantine mindset regarding ancient myth, while the last quarter of the chronicle contains more relevant material for those interested in the emperors and history of the later 5^th and 6^th centuries. A few titbits of information about the history of Antioch can be found, which can prove useful for looking in at life in a provincial capital. Overall I found Malalas to be direct, honest and – if not entirely accurate about most things – at least entertaining.

* The preceding passage from this same book is also enlightening: 

       “Because those who had of old been fighting men, leaders, or had done something brave or virtuous in life were worth remembering and especially those who had worked mysteries by some power, they honoured them with monumental statues as being their forefathers; all worshipped them as benefactors, like a god; and they made sacrifices to honour them because discovering a benefit...coming either through skill, or through construction or through wisdom or through some other virtue of whatever kind. These they deified, as the most learned Rheginos has written the names of the men who were deified.”

Bibliozantium 3

Ioannis Malalae: Chronographia. L. Dindorf (ed). [Corpus Scriptorum Historiae Byzantinae] 32. Bonn. (1831)

The Chronicle of John Malalas. trans. E. Jeffreys, M. Jeffreys and R. Scott. Melbourne. (1986)

Ioannis Malalae: Chronographia. I. Thurn (ed). [Corpus Fontium Historiae Byzantinae] 35. Berlin. (2000)

- Helpful Footnote: The Dindorf edition is the original Greek text with Latin translation first published in the 19^th century. This is the one that can be found for free on Google Books. The 1986 Jeffreys and Scott edition is a translation of this. The Thurn edition from the year 2000 is a recent edition of the original Greek text. For simply reading the chronicle, then the Jeffreys translation is undoubtedly the one to go for, but as always the original Greek text must be considered in the face of this. I think that Jeffreys might have done an updated translation based on Thurn's edition, but I haven't yet seen a copy of this.

Discworld Books 13-15, by Terry Pratchett

It is time once again for a string of Discworld novels to lighten our mood. Sir Terry left behind a substantial number of books to get through, and I’ve only gone and reviewed another three: Small Gods, Lords and Ladies and Men at Arms. Fifteen down, only twenty-six to go.

13. Small Gods

Honestly, one of the best of all – and proof of the power that Discworld has to engage with real-world issues. By setting a story around the characters of a fallen god, a naïve young prophet and a diabolical Church-leader, Pratchett is able to challenge and critique the entire nature of religion and belief. I'm sincere about this. Small Gods is entertainment that has the guts to ask some pertinent questions.

          In a land wholly devoted to the worship of the Great God Om, during a time when the next Prophet is predicted to arise, a lowly young novice in the Church is approached by a tortoise who claims to be the Great God himself. The citadel is in the grip of the sinister deacon Vorbis, a man with a mind as closed and impenetrable as a steel ball, who is ruthlessly attempting to stamp out heresy and thereby prevent the people from learning the truth - that the world is flat, and swims through the universe on the back of a giant turtle. By launching a crusade against neighbouring Ephebe, a liberal and philosophical city very much in the vein of ancient Athens, Vorbis wishes to reinforce his own hard-line brand of Omnian religion in a way that is vaguely Orwellian.

          Funny? Yes, it is. Most of the quips taken are taken at the expense of old-world thinking, religious hardliners and the world from a tortoise’s-eye view, but at the same time the subject matter of the entire story is especially serious. The effect and extent of compliance, the nature of religion, and the actual motives of gods and prophets are all key features of this story, but it all comes together through the big questions asked here. What is it that you actually worship? The god, or the edifice of religion itself? Do you believe out of love, or fear, or just blind ignorance? Do the worshippers need their god, or is it the other way round? And if He really is up there, does he actually deserve to be treated in this manner? These are just some of the questions this book prompts, and maybe its power is in the fact that it is, in fact, another Discworld book. This isn’t high-brow stuff; Small Gods is simple and entertaining, and it can be read by anyone.

          At the heart and centre of this book are the three characters of Brutha, Om and Vorbis; the idiot disciple, the dethroned god, and the power-mad priest. Both Brutha and Vorbis are exquisitely crafted elements to the story while Om, who provides a great deal of the humour as a Fire-and-Brimstone god trapped in the body of a tortoise, is both a McGuffin as well as a humility-parable. In many ways the partnership between Brutha and Om is that staple relationship in Pratchett’s stories; the reluctant alliance of the naïve and the cynical, much like the original pairing between Rincewind and Twoflower. The relationship has been redressed here for a new purpose, and is an effective core to the tale. Vorbis meanwhile is one of the most unsettling villains in the Discworld canon, a man who does not question his right to dictate what people should and should not believe, and who has no doubt that he is carrying out the will of his god – despite the fact that he hears nothing but his own thoughts echoing in his head. He cannot be argued with. He cannot be reasoned with. And he will deal mercilessly with anybody who defies him.

          Small Gods has an absolute recommendation. It is a memorable story, deals with a most relevent subject matter, and can be appreciated in isolation from the rest of the series. It is devoid of many of the usual frippery of Discworld, whilst at the same time being fundamentally Discworld in its style, outlook and humour. It easily joins Mort, Reaper Man and Pyramids amongst my top Discworld novels, and whether you’re looking for a new way into the series, or are already a fan, I cannot recommend it highly enough.

14. Lords and Ladies

The next instalment of the Granny Weatherwax saga, Lords and Ladies makes it clear just how much Discworld has become a platform for multiple and divergent character series’. Picking up where Witches Abroad left off, the three witches Granny Weatherwax, Nanny Ogg and Magrat Garlick return to their homeland of Lancre after nearly a year of absence. Much has changed since they left. The former court Fool Verence (now King Verence II, since he ended up as king of Lancre at the end of Wyrd Sisters) has been making a benign if naïve effort to modernize his tiny little mountain kingdom, while a new coven of younger, more gothic ‘witches’ has emerged during Granny Weatherwax’s absence. Whilst Magrat finds herself unexpectedly and a little unwillingly engaged to King Verence, with the wedding set to take place on Midsummer’s Eve, the return of the beautiful but evil Queen of the Elves threatens to bring about a dark and terrible age for all of humanity.

          It must be mentioned that the Faculty of the Unseen University make an appearance. Archchancellor Ridcully, his nerdy underling Ponder Stibbons, the deranged pill-gulping Bursar, and the Orangutan Librarian have received an invitation to the wedding, and they leave their comfortable urban environment to take a trip to Lancre town. As always the presence of Ridcully and his University crowd makes the book a worthwhile read on its own, and to see them interacting with the witches of Lancre is a unique crossover treat. Of other nice elements, the Lancre Morris Men are good for a laugh, Casanunda the Dwarf who advertises himself as the world’s second-greatest lover provides many humorous moments, and Shaun Ogg (Nanny Ogg’s youngest son) is excellent for his purpose as Lancre’s only soldier.

Just as with Witches Abroad, this is a good and consistent Discworld book for fans of the witches. There is very little else I can really say about it. The characters are good, the story is engaging, and the Elves are a dramatic and unpleasant new group of villains. For those who have no interest in the Lancre stories, you will not be missing much by avoiding this one; yet Pratchett’s writing is very much on form, the humour and the story are good, and I have to say I rather enjoyed it.

15. Men at Arms

The Discworld series stands at around forty books in total, and so it is little wonder to see groups of characters being reused time and again. We’ve already seen this with Rincewind, and again with the witches of Lancre, and now we find a sequel to Guards! Guards! demonstrating that the Night Watch are here to stay. Since saving the city of Ankh-Morpork from a gigantic dragon, the Night Watch have nearly doubled in size by taking on three new recruits – a Troll, a Dwarf, and a Werewolf. Captain Vimes is soon to marry Lady Sybil Ramkin, retiring from a lifetime of policing, but a string of murders in the city and the theft of a terrifying weapon from the Assassins’ Guild force him to put the new watchmen straight on the job.

          Sam Vimes is one of the most effective protagonists in the entire Discworld canon, taking what could have been just a clichéd cynical old alcoholic captain and giving him true life in his bones. By falling in love with one of the wealthiest women in the city, Vimes has ended up in unfamiliar territory, amongst a society he detests, while his inbuilt policing instincts keep him firmly on the ground and desperate to keep doing the job he’s always done. Corporal Carrot meanwhile is the genuine Knight In Shining Armour – even though he’s just a watchman in watchman’s armour – and his completely un-cynical drive to do his duty seems too good to be true. Except it is true! Carrot is essentially a superhuman, and while in Guards! Guards! he was still a relatively minor character, it is in Men at Arms that his personality really shines through.

          The story itself is rather good, drawing you on in the way that Discworld books do so deceptively. The typical murder-mystery shtick is livened up by Pratchett’s witty writing-style and the growing complexity of the world of Ankh-Morpork – crowded as it is with Guild-politics and the Patrician’s machinations. But though Men at Arms is a comedy book, this does not detract from the unpleasant and serious nature of the murders, and the almost supernatural but vividly believable reasons behind them. If there’s one thing that this series does most adequately explore, then it’s human nature – and despite the fact that some of the characters are trolls and dwarfs and dogs, Men at Arms serves as a good example of how this is done. I would comfortably recommend this one, even if you haven’t done Guards! Guards! yet.

Biblioworld 4

Pratchett, Terry. Small Gods. Corgi. (1993 [1992])

Pratchett, Terry. Lords and Ladies. Corgi. (1993 [1992])

Pratchett, Terry. Men at Arms. Corgi. (1994 [1993])