Emperor Justinian’s Crackdown On Astrologers

From the birth of the Roman Empire in Rome, to the fall of the empire in Constantinople, the emperors were known to have periodic clashes with astrologers. Justinian, emperor of Constantinople from 527 to 565, was no exception, as he apparently feared that the horoscopes and predictions created by astrologers could be a threat to his authority, as well as that of Constantinople’s church.

Procopius (c. 490-565), a lawyer and historian who lived at the same time as Justinian, described how astrologers were reportedly treated during the emperor’s reign. He wrote:

 “They were bitterly hostile to astrologers. Accordingly the official appointed to deal with burglaries made a point of ill-treating them simply because they were astrologers, flogging the backs of them and setting them on camels to be shown to jeering crowds all over the city, though they were old men and respectable in every way” (Procopius, Secret History, chapter 11).

As the end of the quote shows, Procopius disapproved of Justinian’s treatment of astrologers, and such critical comments are the common theme of his controversial work, the often-libelous Secret History. Yet, despite Procopius’ negative and antagonistic flourishes in the Secret History, it was in his commentary on legal issues that he most often spoke the truth. Even if the astrologers were punished with whips and humiliation as Procopius claimed, the astrologers were still treated better than other groups that Justinian chose to oppress. Non-Christians, heretics, and certain classes of criminals faced far worse punishments.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Image from page 293 of "The astrologer of the nineteenth century" (1825), [Public Domain] via flickr.com and Creative Commons).

Sources:

• The Secret History by Procopius, translated by G. A. Williamson and Peter Sarris. New York: Penguin Classics, 1966, 2007.

The Dramatic Downfall Of Patriarch Tryphon of Constantinople

Emperor Romanos I was a brilliant political maneuverer who arose out of obscurity to become, for a time, one of the strongest men in the Mediterranean world. Although he held the title of emperor for decades, Romanos had no genuine claim to the throne—his remarkable rise to power came through the marriage of his daughter, Helen, to the child-emperor Constantine VII on May 4, 919. The very next year, Romanos climbed his way to the top of the child-emperor’s regency council by forcing Constantine’s mother into a convent and similarly disposing of other nobles who posed a threat to his ascendance. Romanos at first took the title of ‘caesar,’ but he quickly became a co-emperor, and by 921 he had gained enough power to supersede Constantine VII as First Emperor in the political hierarchy.

Romanos, however, did not ascend alone up the political ladder; he also brought his children along for the ride. Romanos’ son, Christopher, was similarly named a co-emperor in 921 and in 924, Romanos similarly crowned two other sons, named Stephen and Constantine. Romanos further increased his power in 927 by having Christopher named Second Emperor, pushing the original ruler, Constantine VII, down one more rung on the ladder of political hierarchy.

Another of Romanos’ sons, by the name of Theophylact, drew the metaphorical short straw when it came to high office appointment. While his brothers were named caesars and co-emperors, Theophylact was sent to join the church. Yet, for Romanos, only the position of Patriarch of Constantinople would do for his son. Nevertheless, there was a problem—when Theophylact was sent to join the church in 924, he was only seven years old. Although Romanos could not immediately place his young son at the head of the church in Constantinople, he was able to rush the boy through the hierarchy of the clergy. Theophylact was appointed as a cleric and put in the position of synkellos, a lofty title that made the young boy an assistant to the patriarch of Constantinople. It was an important appointment, as the synkellos was often considered the heir to the patriarchal throne. The newly appointed clergyman, however, was still a child, so he remained in the role of synkellos during the reigns of Patriarch Nicholas (d. 925), Patriarch Stephen (d.927) and Patriarch Tryphon. Emperor Romanos apparently had agreements with these patriarchs that they would step down when Theophylact finally came of age. Although Patriarch Tryphon had supposedly agreed to this plan, he was said to have become hesitant to relinquish power as the young synkellos began to reach his mid-teens.

The power struggle between Patriarch Tryphon and Emperor Romanos came to a head around 931, when Theophylact was about 14 years old. Medieval historians who wrote about the incident recorded differing accounts of the episode. Leo the Grammarian, Symeon the Logothete and the Theophanes Continuatus present the occasion dryly or in passing. The so-called Pseudo-Symeon (whose identity remains anonymous) and the historian John Skylitzes, however, recorded a much more dramatic tale. Whatever the case, bland or embellished, all of the scholars came to the same conclusion—Patriarch Tryphon ultimately resigned from his post in 931.

The story presented by the Pseudo-Symeon and John Skylitzes about the downfall of Patriarch Tryphon is one of subterfuge and trickery. As the patriarch had done nothing to merit his resignation from the leadership of the church of Constantinople, Tryphon reportedly tried to delay or break his deal to step down. As the story goes, Romanos became impatient with the stubborn patriarch and he and his allies soon began to spread rumors about Tryphon to make the man’s position at the head of the church untenable. One such accusation that was reportedly spread insinuated that Tryphon was illiterate and did not know how to write. In 931, so the story goes, the patriarch convened a synod to disprove these rumors. Before the eyes of his peers, the patriarch was said to have written down his name and title on a document and handed it over to an acquaintance who would bring the proof of Tryphon’s literacy to the emperor. The messenger, unfortunately for the patriarch, was alleged to have been an agent of Emperor Romanos. Therefore, as soon as he had the chance, the mischievous messenger supposedly added a forged letter of resignation to Patriarch Tryphon’s signed document. According to John Skylitzes, before the clergymen of Constantinople left the meeting, the tampered document was brought back in and, “This ‘resignation’ was presented to the Synod and Tryphon was put out of the church, bitterly decrying the deceit which had been practiced on him” (Synopsis historian, chapter 10, section 26).

Whatever the truth behind Tryphon’s resignation, he indeed stepped down in 931. Although Romanos’ son was the successor to Tryphon’s position, young Theophylact was still not old enough to take up the role as Patriarch of Constantinople until 933, when he reached the age of sixteen. Theophylact would continue to oversee the church of Constantinople until his death in 956.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Second Ecumenical painted by Vasily Surikov, c. 1876, [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:

• A Synopsis of Byzantine History by John Skylitzes (c. 1040-1101), translated by John Wortley (Cambridge University Press, 2010).

The Reaction Of 10th-Century Constantinople To Conjoined Twins

In the mid-10th century, two travelers entered the city of Constantinople (modern Istanbul) and caused quite the stir. The pair were conjoined twins, and their unexpected arrival at the city was initially met with shock, and then hostility. John Skylitzes, an 11th-century historian, mirrored the feelings of his ancestors in his own statements about the event: “In those days a monstrous thing came to the imperial city from Armenia…males sharing a single belly, but they were driven out of the city as an evil portent” (Synopsis of Byzantine History, chapter 11, section 38). As for the date of the twins’ entry and exit from the city, Skylitzes only divulged that the event took place near the end of the reign of Emperor Romanos I (r. 919-944). Given the threats faced by the empire at the time—their precarious relationship with the Bulgarians, the raids of the Magyars into imperial lands (beginning around 934), and an attack by the Rus in 941—it is no wonder that the people of Constantinople wanted to rid themselves of whatever they perceived could cause bad luck.

After the conjoined twins left Constantinople, there was a power shift in the empire. Romanos’ predecessor was a child-emperor named Constantine VII who ascended to the throne in 913, reportedly at the age of seven. As the emperor was young, the empire was ruled by a regency council. Romanos I, who eventually became Constantine’s father-in-law, came to dominate the regency and usurped power in 919, pushing Constantine VII further and further into the background as the decades passed. In 944, however, Constantine VII backed a successful plot by Romanos’ sons to oust the old usurper, their father. Constantine followed up this success by rallying his supporters and arrested Romanos’ sons in 945, finally taking his rightful place as the sole emperor of Constantinople.

The conjoined twins from Armenia returned to Constantinople sometime after Constantine VII (r. 944-959) regained power. This time, the twins were more openly received. Instead of recoiling in horror and shock, the people of Constantinople now were apparently more curious than frightened and allowed the twins to live the rest of their days in the city. Eventually, one of the conjoined twins died, and intrigued physicians from Constantinople eagerly volunteered to separate the surviving conjoined twin from his deceased sibling. John Skylitzes recorded their bittersweet results: “When one of the twins died, some experienced doctors tried to excise the dead portion—and they were successful, but the living twin survived only a short while and then died” (Synopsis of Byzantine History, chapter 11, section 38).

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (16th century painting of Constantinople by Sebastian Münster (–1552), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:

• A Synopsis of Byzantine History by John Skylitzes (c. 1040-1101), translated by John Wortley (Cambridge University Press, 2010).

The Bizarre Tale About A Magic Statue Linked To The Death Of Simeon I Of Bulgaria

Simeon I became ruler of the Bulgarians in 893 and greatly contributed to his peoples’ military and cultural ascendance. Showing no fear of his powerful neighbors in Constantinople, Simeon declared war on Emperor Leo VI as early as 894 in order to protect the trade rights of his Bulgarian merchants in Constantinople. From that time on, Simeon frequently declared war against Constantinople, expanding his own power and influence at their expense. Romanos I of Constantinople was finally able to bring Simeon into a semblance of peace in 924, and the Bulgarian leader took the opportunity to focus his efforts against the Serbs and Croats. In 927, Simeon’s impressive military career was dealt a heavy blow, when his army suffered a significant defeat in Croatia. Not long after that disappointing campaign, still in the year 927, Simeon I of Bulgaria suffered from heart failure, or of a heart attack, and died on May 27.

Common heart failure may be the traditional, accepted, and most likely cause of Simeon’s death, yet another version was recorded by the medieval historian, John Skylitzes (c. 1040-1101). Skylitzes’ account, mind you, is unlikely, far-fetched and folkloric, but the tale is nevertheless an enjoyable read.

According to Skylitzes, a certain astronomer (or more likely an astrologer) named John met with Emperor Romanos I (r. 919-944) in 927 and, based on whatever omens he could read from the alignment of the stars at that time, gave the emperor instructions on how to bring supernatural doom on Simeon I. The aforementioned John (the astrologer, not the historian) somehow determined that the life of the Bulgarian ruler was magically linked to a single statue that stood near the heart of Byzantium. This statue, John claimed, was none other than the statue of Arkadios, which could be found in a forum built on a hill to the west of the city of Constantinople. In order to harm Simeon, Emperor Romanos supposedly needed only to deface the statue. In particular, the mysterious astronomer or astrologer suggested that the emperor chop off the statue’s head. John Skylitzes tied this peculiar piece of folklore into the traditional story of Simeon’s death in the following way:

“An astronomer named John came to the emperor and said that if he would send someone to cut off the head of the statue standing above the apse of the Xerolophos and facing west, Simeon would immediately die—for his fate was magically linked to that of the statue. Convinced by this speech, [Romanos] had the head of the statue cut off and in that very same hour (as the emperor precisely discovered) Simeon died in Bulgaria, carried off by a heart attack” (Synopsis of Byzantine History, chapter 10, section 17).

Written by C. Keith Hansley.

Picture Attribution: Painting of a temple and Trajan’s Column painted by Hubert Robert (1733–1808), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons

Sources:

• John Skylitzes. A Synopsis of Byzantine History: 811-1057, translated by John Wortley. Original text c. 11th or early 12th century. New York: Cambridge University Press, 2010.
• https://www.britannica.com/biography/Simeon-I 
• https://www.encyclopedia.com/history/encyclopedias-almanacs-transcripts-and-maps/simeon-king-bulgaria 
• https://www.oxfordreference.com/view/10.1093/acref/9780195046526.001.0001/acref-9780195046526-e-5222  

The Disastrous Launching Of A Mercenary Army From Byzantium in 399 BCE

A band of Greek mercenaries known as the ‘Ten Thousand’ joined the rebel army of Cyrus the Younger in 401 BCE against King Artaxerxes II of Persia. Before the year was over, the rebellion was crushed at the Battle of Cunaxa in Babylonia and Cyrus was dead. The band of Ten Thousand that was serving with the rebellion, however, remained virtually unscathed. From 401-400 BCE, the mercenary army traveled through the hostile lands of Mesopotamia and Armenia, all the while fending off ambushes and skirmishes by Persian satraps and local militias. The mercenary army finally arrived on the Black Sea coast around 400 BCE, where they were glad to find Greek-populated cities, such as Trapezus, Cerasus, Cotyora, Sinope and Heraclea. By this point, the mercenaries had more room to breathe, and, with the threat of the Persian army reduced, the mercenaries became increasingly more undisciplined and rowdy. The Greek cities on the coast of the Black Sea quickly became annoyed with the mercenaries’ antics—they tried their hand at piracy near Trapezus, murdered some elders in Cerasus, raided the villages of Cotyora, threatened Sinope for ships, and attempted to extort money from Heraclea. Yet, to the relief of the cities, the mercenary army kept traveling and eventually camped at Calpe Harbor, where they fended off one last attack from the Persians. The mercenaries then traveled to the city of Chrysopolis, where they were ferried across the Bosporus to Byzantium, the seat of power for the local Spartan governors.

It was around 399 BCE when the Ten Thousand (now reduced to a little over 7,000) reached Byzantium. Evidently, the wearied troops were in need of a break from campaigning, and were in favor of returning to their homes in Greece proper or resting in Byzantium. The Spartan naval commander of the region, Anaxibius, however, was in no way eager to see the mercenary company stay in Byzantium—rightly so, after the trouble the mercenaries had given the other Greek cities along the Black Sea coast. Anaxabius reportedly hoped that the mercenaries would disband, but, when that did not happen, the next best option was to promptly send the army away from the city. If the Spartan commander could push them into Thracian lands in Europe, all the better—for it would be a show of good will toward the irritated Persians. Therefore, Anaxibius quickly shooed the mercenaries from Byzantium and gave the generals of the company orders to march the troops to the Thracian Chersonese, where the local Spartan authorities would buy their services. As a final measure, once the mercenaries were herded outside of the city walls, Anaxabius had a veteran Spartan general, Eteonicus, bar the gates of Byzantium shut.

Although the plan of marching to the Chersonese was known to the mercenary company’s generals (including Xenophon, the most famous source for these events), the average spear-for-hire in the army was not privy to that information. Perhaps, the bulk of the army thought they would be marching back to their homelands in Attica or the Peloponnesus. Nevertheless, word soon spread to the common footmen that they were not heading home, but marching toward a new campaign in Thracian land. When this news was disseminated, the men were not happy at all—in fact, the army broke into complete chaos.

According to Xenophon, he and the shocked mercenary generals faced a complete mutiny. The troops refused to march and instead grabbed their weapons and rushed back to the gates of Byzantium. The aforementioned Spartan general, Eteonicus, had by now shut the gates and the mercenaries could only bang on the doors in vain. Yet, the stubborn warriors were not to be stopped, for they traced their way along the walls all the way to the shore of the sea, where they crossed the breakwater into the city. With enraged mercenaries now inside and outside of the city, the Spartan garrison of Byzantium (including Anaxibius and Eteonicus) withdrew to a defensible acropolis. The mercenaries inside the city then broke open the gate for the rest of the army still outside. Xenophon described the chaos inside Byzantium as the mercenaries poured in: “The sight of the troops forcing their way into the city made the people of Byzantium evacuate the marketplace and run for their ships or their homes, while those who were indoors ran out into the streets and others set about launching the city’s war fleet, trusting the triremes to keep them safe” (Anabasis Kyrou, Book 7, section 1). Before long, the mercenaries had control of all Byzantium except the acropolis. Just as the Spartan commander, Anaxibius, was considering calling in the garrison of Chalcedon, the mercenary generals finally brought their wild troops to order and quarantined themselves in a field within the city.

The mercenary generals were miraculously able to talk their way out of their army’s bizarre occupation of Byzantium without any immediate consequences from Sparta. The calmed mercenaries once more withdrew from the city and allowed the Spartan governor and naval commander of Byzantium to warily leave their acropolis stronghold. To the relief of Byzantium, the mercenaries marched off into Thracian land and set up a camp near some villages. Yet, not all of the mercenaries had left Byzantium. According to Xenophon, 400 mercenary stragglers who refused to leave Byzantium were arrested and sold into slavery by the Spartan authorities.

Written By C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Metellus raises the siege, painted by Armand-Charles Caraffe (1762–1822), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:

• Anabasis Kyrou (The Expedition/Upcountry March of Cyrus) by Xenophon and translated by Robin Waterfield. New York: Oxford University Press, 2005.