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The Life Of Emperor Bardanes Philippikos And His Blinding Birthday Surprise

In the 7th and early 8th centuries, Bardanes Philippikos (also commonly known as Philippicus Bardanes) was a prominent member of the ruling elite involved in administering the realm of the imperial city of Constantinople. He was born in Armenia, as reflected in his name Bardanes, but he avoided prejudice among the Greek nobility by calling himself Philippikos. His father, Nikephoros, was known to have held the lofty title of patrician, a designation of high office or station that was often given to generals and governors. Theirs was a difficult time to be involved in Byzantine government. The empire was unrestful from an influx of Bulgarian, Khazar, Slavic and Arab threats, and the tension was amplified by the lackluster ability of the emperors to curtail the troubles and made worse by the growing financial strain imposed by years of constant warfare. Amid the atmosphere of disquiet and conspiracy, Emperor Justinian II of Constantinople (whose reign began in 685) was deposed, mutilated and banished, and replaced by the usurper, Emperor Leontios (r. 695-698). And Leontios, in turn, was overthrown by a certain Apsimar or Apsimaros, who adopted the official name of Emperor Tiberius III (r. 698-705). It was in the time of Tiberius III/Apsimaros, that Bardanes Philippikos began to emerge as a player in imperial politics. But the new emperor, as a usurper, recognized kindred ambition and opportunism in Philippikos, and heeding those signs of warning, the emperor banished Philippikos in 702 or 703 to Cephalonia (or Kephalenia). This was recalled by the chronicler, Theophanes (750s-818), who wrote that “Apsimaros exiled to Kephalenia Philippikos the son of the patrician Nikephoros, since he had dreamed he would become Emperor” (Theophanes, Chronographia, entry for Annus Mundi 6194 [Sep 702-Aug 703]). The emperor, as it would turn out, was right to be paranoid about challenges to his power, but it was not Philippikos who posed the immediate threat.

While Bardanes Philippikos was in exile, Apsimaros/Tiberius III faced a Bulgarian invasion in 705 that was launched on behalf of the former emperor, Justinian II (the man who had been deposed by Leontios in 695). With his coalition of foreign allies, Justinian seized Constantinople and reimposed his rule over the empire. In this second half of his reign, Emperor Justinian II (r. 685-695, 705-711) became increasingly tyrannical, starting with the executions of the two usurpers, Leontios and Tiberius III, who had ruled in his absence. As for Bardanes Philippikos, who had been exiled by Tiberius, he was given a new lease on life from Justinian II, who recalled Philippikos from exile and began considering him for special military and government appointments.

Around the year 710, Emperor Justinian II dispatched Bardanes Philippikos to join a punitive campaign waged by a spatharios (or Sword-Bearer) named Helias against the region of Cherson. Ironically, it would be Justinian who faced the ultimate punishment as a result of this mission. By the year 711, tyrannical orders and widespread unrest drove Helias and Philippikos to rise in rebellion against Emperor Justinian II, and they turned their expeditionary force around to target Constantinople. On this, the chronicler Theophanes wrote, “Under these circumstances, Helias the spatharios and Bardanes the exile (who by this time had been recalled from Kephalenia and was in Cherson with the expedition) also rebelled” (Chronographia, entry for Annus Mundi 6203 [Sep 711-Aug 712]).

During the course of the rebellion, Bardanes Philippikos emerged as the foremost figure of the revolt. As the rebels closed in, Justinian II made the unwise decision to personally go gather intelligence between Sinope and Damatrys, near Chalcedon. During the emperor’s subsequent absence from the imperial city, Philippikos was able to use that opportunity to march into Constantinople without a fight. Following the fall of the capital, Philippikos executed the emperor’s son, Tiberius, while the other rebel leader, Helias, personally led the manhunt for the emperor. He found Justinian near Damatrys, killed him, and sent his head back to Philippikos. On the successful rebellion and the fall of Justinian, Theophanes wrote:

“When the expedition lingered and did not return, Justinian guessed the reason. He departed (with him were the Opsikians and some of the Thrakesians) for Sinope to find out exactly what was going on in Cherson. In his examination he discerned the rebel expedition arming against the city and, charging forward like a lion, rushed toward the city himself. But since Philippikos got there ahead of him and had taken it, he went to Damatrys, where he camped with his men…Helias and his army went to Damatrys and entered into talks with the army there. They gave Justinian’s army a promise of no ill-treatment, whereupon everyone abandoned Justinian, leaving him all alone and going over to Philippikos. Then the spatharios Helias angrily burst forward and seized Justinian’s neck. He cut off his head with the dagger with which he was girded and sent it to Philippikos by way of the spatharios Romanos” (Chronographia, entry for Annus Mundi 6203 [Sep 711-Aug 712]).

With the deaths of Justinian II and his son, power in Constantinople was seized by Emperor Bardanes Philippikos in 711. Although he was first greeted as a liberator from Justinian’s tyranny, Philippikos’ reign quickly suffered from military and territorial setbacks caused by Bulgarian attacks around the region of Thrace and Arab assaults into Anatolia. These military troubles coincided with a growing religious backlash against the new emperor. Bardanes Philippikos, it turned out, was partial to the Monothelite heresy that proposed Jesus had one will, as opposed to the two-wills interpretation (human and divine) held by the mainstream churches. Philippikos’ support for the heresy put him at odds with a strong faction of his empire’s clergy, and it also caused a feud between him and Pope Constantine (r. 708-715), who refused to recognize Bardanes Philippikos as a legitimate ruler.

By the year 713, certain key nobles and courtiers in the empire began to lose faith in Philippikos. In the midst of that atmosphere of anxiety, disagreement and unrest, a conspiracy began to form. Prominent members included some of Justinian’s old Opsikion allies, namely George Bouraphos—count and patrician of the region—as well as Rufus of Opsikion, who held the prestigious military and courtly title of protostrator. These conspirators from Opsikion were also joined by another patrician named Theodore Myakios, in addition to the chief of the imperial chancery, Artemios. Together, the powerful schemers agreed to launch a coup against Philippikos, and they planned to carry out their plot around the time that the emperor would be holding chariot races in honor of his birthday in 713. On this birthday surprise, the chronicler Theophanes wrote:

“The two years of Philippikos’ reign had passed in this way. After his birthday races had been held (with the Greens winning), the Emperor decided on the sabbath of Pentecost to enter the public bathhouse of Zeuxippos on horseback (and to bring food and musical instruments) to wash himself there and breakfast with citizens of ancient lineage. At the advice of George (surnamed Bouraphos) the patrician and count of the Opsikion, Rufus the protostrator of the Opsikion and the patrician Theodore Myakios suddenly entered the city through the Golden Gate with the regiments of that theme which they had in Thrace. This was while Philippikos was taking his siesta; they rushed into the palace and caught him napping, spiriting him away to the oratory of the Greens. Though no-one knew it, they blinded him there” (Chronographia, entry for Annus Mundi 6205 [Sep 713-Aug 714]).

Such was the end of the reign of Emperor Bardanes Philippikos (r. 711-713). After being blinded, he was exiled by the usurpers. As for the conspirators, a power struggle apparently ensued between Count George Bouraphos, Patrician Theodore Myakios, and the chief of the imperial chancery, Artemios. Curiously, in that showdown of political maneuvering, it was the bureaucrat, Artemios, who came out on top. He renamed himself Emperor Anastasios II (r. 713-715) and his first orders of action were the blinding and exile of George Bouraphos and Theodore Myakios.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Bardanes Philippikos and Anastasius II medallion illustrations by Jan van Vianen (c. 1695), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons and the Rijksmuseum).

Sources:

Medea, Sculpted By William Wetmore Story (c. 1819–1895)

This carved marble sculpture, by William Wetmore Story (c. 1819–1895), was inspired by the character, Medea, from ancient Greek mythology. She was the daughter of King Aeëtes, ruler of the Black Sea coastal realm of Colchis, whose land played host to the myth of Jason and the Golden Fleece. Jason, a claimant to his uncle Pelias’ Thessalian city of Iolcos, was dispatched by his scheming uncle on a perilous journey to obtain the Golden Fleece, which was possessed and defended by King Aeëtes and the people of Colchis. It was a mission that was meant to lead to Jason’s death or disappearance, but the Greek hero would go on to receive more help than Pelias could have ever imagined. Jason recruited as companions storied figures such as Heralces, Orpheus, Peleus of Phthia (the future father of Achilles), Meleager, and King Admetus of Pherae, to name a few. As many of Jason’s crew were demigods sired by deities such as Zeus, Apollo, Poseidon, Hephaestus, and Dionysus, their party was naturally helped by supportive Greek gods and goddesses, who assisted the heroes while they sailed to the Black Sea on their ship, the Argo. Yet, despite all of these heroes, King Aeëtes and the defenders of Colchis had tricks up their sleeves that threatened to thwart Jason’s mission to obtain the Golden Fleece.

King Aeëtes set a gauntlet of near-insurmountable trials and tribulations between Jason and the Golden Fleece. These included multiple magical beasts and an army of humanoid warriors that grew from the earth. Medea, as the king’s daughter, possessed vital knowledge of many secrets, weaknesses and remedies for all of the trials and defenses associated with the Golden Fleece, and she, herself, was well-versed in magic and the making of powerful potions. All of her knowledge and power, however, ultimately undermined the defenses of King Aeëtes and Colchis, for Medea fell in love with Jason (likely due to divine intervention), and she began to aid the hero in overcoming each challenge. In the end, when the king continued to refuse to hand over the fleece even after Jason successfully overcame the trials, Medea decided to help the hero penetrate the local security layout and steal the Golden Fleece. Consummating their partnership, Medea decided to elope with Jason and leave Colchis to join the hero on his adventures. Yet, as the knife-wielding appearance of William Story’s Medea gives away, her marriage with Jason became tragically entangled with sadness, rage and violence.

On board the Argo, Jason, Medea and the Argonauts fled from Colchis and resumed their seaborne adventuring, eventually finding their way back to Jason’s homeland of Iolcos. There, Jason and Medea brought about the death of Pelias. Yet, instead of power or stability, this violent act caused them to be exiled, upon which they made their way to Corinth, where King Creon was ruling. By this point, Jason and Medea had children, but instead of setting roots in Corinth and living a happy life, their stay in that city unfortunately diverged into death and destruction.

Jason, so the tragic tale goes, fell in love with Glauce, the daughter of King Creon of Corinth. Glauce reciprocated the adventurer’s affection and wanted to marry him. Yet, Jason was already married. Creon, for his part, approved of the match and decided to use his kingly power to eject Medea from Jason’s life. Lobbying for his daughter’s interests with legal loopholes, Creon pointed out that Medea was a foreigner and that her marriage to Jason had taken place in a distant land, insinuating that her union with the hero was tenuous. Similarly, that argument could be used to imply that Medea’s children with Jason were illegitimate, clearing the way for Glauce’s future offspring to jump ahead in succession, but that line of inquiry was not stressed at that time.

Jason, fatefully, sided with the Corinthian royals, agreeing to abandon Medea and marry Glauce. Medea ultimately came to terms with her situation and she realized that she would not be able to charm or otherwise convince Jason back to her side. Yet, coming to terms was not the same thing as making peace with the situation. Instead, Medea plotted cruel revenge. Acting as if she was sending a congratulatory wedding gift to Glauce, Medea had her uninformed children carry garments laden with poison, incendiary traps, or foul magic to the unsuspecting princess. These gifts were a beautiful robe and a golden garland headpiece, the former of which was coated in an acidic substance that ate away at flesh, while the latter was cursed with a fatal spell that spread fire to whoever placed it on their head. The deadly gift was received and accepted by the doomed bride, and in the toxic inferno that ensued, both Glauce and King Creon were killed. After the killings of the Corinthian royals, Medea was said to have murdered (or abandoned) the children she had by Jason. He, meaning Jason, survived the magical horrors at Corinth, but was left painfully and totally alone, and he eventually took his own life or was anticlimactically crushed by a falling beam.

Medea, meanwhile, fled to Athens, where she married King Aegeus. Yet, the new darker and murderous side to Medea’s character remained, impacting her marriage and her relationship with the city. Ultimately, Medea was kicked out of Athens after she was discovered to be plotting murder against Aegeus’ famous son, Theseus. Such is the tragic, but violent, character that inspired William Wetmore Story’s artwork.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Sources:

  • Euripides’ Medea, translated by James Morwood in Medea and Other Plays. New York: Oxford University Press, 1997, 1998, 2008).
  • Apollodorus, The Library of Greek Mythology, translated by Robin Hard. New York, Oxford University Press, 1997.
  • Jason and the Argonauts by Apollonius of Rhodes, translated by Aaron Poochigian. New York: Penguin Classics, 2014.
  • https://www.metmuseum.org/art/collection/search/12651

Epicurus

Epicurus (c. 341-270 BCE)

“It is impossible for the person who secretly violates any article of the social compact to feel confident that he will remain undiscovered, even if he has already escaped ten thousand times; for right on to the end of his life he is never sure he will not be detected.”

  • From Epicurus’ Principal Doctrines (section 35), translated by Eugene Michael O’Connor in The Essential Epicurus (The Big Nest / Interactive Media, 2014).

The Ironic Rise, Fall, And Belated Execution Of Leontios

Leontios (or Liontius) was a decorated army and navy military leader who commanded forces on the behalf of the emperors of Constantinople along the complicated Anatolian frontline borderlands between the Byzantine and Umayyad Arab spheres of influence in the 7th century. Leontios had some success on land, making gains with ground forces in the regions of Georgia and Armenia, but his fortunes at sea were less forgiving, as he had trouble with insubordination and mutinies. Well-connected and liked by both military and church elites, Leontios became a potential political rival of the then emperor, Justinian II, who began his reign in 685 and had become increasingly unpopular since then. While Leontios oversaw operations in Armenia and Georgia, Emperor Justinian campaigned from Thessalonica against Slavic and Bulgarian forces near the regions of Thrace and Macedonia between 687 and 689. Justinian unwisely drafted into his military large numbers of captured Slavic warriors, who were understandably disgruntled and unrestful, and sent them as an army to the Anatolian front. Justinian further destabilized his Anatolic defenses by removing Leontios from his command and placing him under some form of arrest in 692. Despite the imprisonment, Leontios apparently maintained good health and was allowed to receive visitors.

In Leontios’ absence, the drafted Slavic army plan that was hatched by Justinian II ultimately turned into a disaster. The angry, forcefully-relocated Slavic army defected to the Arab side, setting up the cataclysmic Battle of Sebastopolis, where Justinian’s regional forces were dealt a decisive defeat by their Umayyad opponents in 692 or 693. This weakened Constantinople’s power projection in the region and gave the Umayyads more control of Anatolia. As the ramifications of the military defeat set in, anxiety in imperial lands further increased due to Emperor Justinian’s punishing fiscal policies. Additionally, his choice of harsh, unpopular governing officials amplified his own low popularity. It was in this political atmosphere that Emperor Justinian II, desperate for better military results, made the questionable decision to release Leontios from prison around 695, assigning him to lead the forces of Greece (the Hellas or Helladic Theme). Unfortunately for Justinian II, it indeed turned out to be unwise to release the popular general he had personally imprisoned, and even more perilous was the decision to subsequently give that same man military authority in the heart of the empire. Suffice it to say, within moments of being released from prison, Leontios joined a conspiracy involving both military and church officials plotting against the emperor.

With support from the forces given to him and cooperation from his fellow conspirators, including Constantinople’s top church official, Patriarch Callinicus (or Kallinikos) (r. 693-705), Leontios launched a surprise operation to dethrone Justinian II. He broke into Constantinople’s most important prison, releasing arrested men of renown such as military leaders and noblemen. The snowballing growth of the coup was detailed by the chronicler, Theophanes (c. 750s-818), who wrote:

“Now Leontios, who was a patrician and general of the Anatolic theme, and was distinguished in battle, had spent three years in prison. Although he had been condemned, he was suddenly released and appointed general of Hellas. He was ordered to embark on three warships and leave the city that very day…Leontios took the men and such arms as he had and went to the Praitorion in great secrecy. They pounded on the doors, claiming the Emperor had come to administer some business there. When the underofficer at that time had been notified, he immediately came and opened the door. He was overpowered, clubbed down, and bound hand and foot by Leontios. Once he had got in, Leontios opened the prisons, releasing the many noble men who had been jailed: they had been shut in there for as long as six or eight years. Most of them were soldiers, and Leontios armed them and went out into the Forum with them…Along with his two friends the monks and some of the more important men who had got out of jail, Leontios went to the patriarch at his residence” (Theophanes, Chronographia, entry for Annus Mundi 6187 [695-696 CE]).

Finally, with growing might and support, Leontios was able to capture Emperor Justinian II. As one might expect, it is never pleasant to be dethroned or to otherwise lose a high-stakes power struggle, but the politics of Constantinople were especially grisly, especially for royalty and claimants to the throne. On the conspirators’ treatment of Justinian II, Theophanes wrote, “Then they led Justinian into the hippodrome through the Sphendone, slit his nose, cut his tongue, and exiled him to the Cherson” (Theophanes, Chronographia, entry for Annus Mundi 6187). Despite the mutilation, Justinian II fared better than his key ministers, who were allegedly executed by burning.

As defaced Justinian II was shipped off to exile, Emperor Leontios (r. 695-698) settled in for his rule. He attempted to change his name to Leo, but later chroniclers such as Theophanes refused to call him by that designation. A losing battle over his name, however, paled in comparison to the struggle he inherited against the Umayyad forces. Following the Battle of Sebastopolis, the Umayyads renewed military campaigns against the empire of Constantinople on multiple fronts. By 697, the Arabs made successful territorial gains in the Anatolian and Black Sea regions of Armenia and Lazica. The Umayyads also continued to whittle away at Constantinople’s North African holdings, seizing the city of Carthage.

Leontios, formerly a distinguished commander on the field of battle, now pointedly stayed home in Constantinople as these military setbacks piled on, and his lack of personal involvement may have irked military officers and officials. Adding insult to injury, an outbreak of plague or disease developed in the imperial city at that time, which no doubt caused extra worry and unrest. Nevertheless, channeling his former military experience, Emperor Leontios eventually pulled together a large force for a campaign to retake Carthage. Unfortunately, although the expedition was initially successful in capturing the city, the campaign did not ultimately survive the Arab counter-attack. On these events (the Arab conquest, Byzantine re-conquest, and successful Arab counter-attack), Theophanes wrote:

“In this year the Arabs attacked and conquered Africa, settling in it a garrison from their army. When Leontios learned of this he dispatched the patrician John, a competent man, with the entire Roman navy. When he arrived at Carthage he forced open the harbor’s chain, routed his opponents, and drove them away. He freed the African cities and left behind his own garrison. He then referred these matters to the Emperor and, once he had received his orders, wintered in Africa. On learning of this, the Arab leader sent a larger and more powerful expedition against him. In battle he drove John and his army from the harbor” (Theophanes, Chronographia, entry for Annus Mundi 6190 [698-699 CE]).

The unsuccessful Carthage campaign proved to be a breaking point for Leontios’ military. Stewing in their defeat, the retreating expeditionary forces became increasingly mutinous as they neared the imperial heartland. By the time they reached Crete, officers from the campaign rebelled against their commander, John, as well as Emperor Leontios. From among the rebelling officers a certain Apsimar (or Apsimaros) rose to the forefront, and the rebel forces proclaimed this new leader as their chosen emperor. On this, Theophanes wrote: “John went back to Romania, as he wanted to get reinforcements from the Emperor. He had come as far as Crete, however, when the army was suborned by its officers. Because it was afraid and disgraced, it did not want to refer matters to the Emperor, and turned to a wicked plot. It dug up Apsimaros, the drungarios of the Kibyrhaiotai, and chose him as Emperor, renaming him Tiberius” (Theophanes, Chronographia, entry for Annus Mundi 6190 [698-699 CE]). With their leader selected, and their rebellion past the point of no return, the mutineers sailed off for Constantinople to dethrone Emperor Leontios.

Constantinople was in a weakened state when the rebels arrived. The city folk there were still fighting plague, and a renewed wave of the disease coincided with the approach of the mutineers. Rebel ships were able to anchor unharassed in the waters outside the city, and from there, agents of the rebellion began clandestinely reaching out to officers and potential saboteurs in the city who they thought could be tempted to betray the emperor. Unfortunately for Leontios, the rebels found the treacherous individuals they needed, and the rebellion was ultimately given access to the city. Once in, the rebels quickly overpowered, or recruited, the local defenders. Emperor Leontios and his inner circle, at that point, fell into the hands of the rebels, who, ironically, decided to give the emperor the same treatment that he had given the former ruler, Justinian II. The chronicler, Theophanes, described these events: “The soldiers of Apsimaros’ naval force entered the citizens’ houses and stripped the property-owners of their possessions. Apsimaros slit Leontios’ nose and ordered him into the monastery of Delmatos under guard. Since Leontios’ officers and friends had clung to him even unto death, Apsimaros beat and exiled them and confiscated their property” (Theophanes, Chronographia, entry for Annus Mundi 6190 [698-699 CE]). With Leontios arrested, mutilated, and locked away in a monastery, Apsimaros took the throne and assumed the title of Tiberius III (r. 698-705).

Although Leontios’ reign was over, his life and story was not. The imprisoned former-emperor remained in his imposed monastic life as Tiberius III achieved mixed results in his reign. Tiberius’ brother, Herakleios, had some success as a general in challenging Umayyad forces in Syria and Cilicia, but at the same time, Arab troops were able to consolidate power in Armenia, crushing pro-Byzantine forces there that tried to launch a rebellion. These conflict zones, however, were not the greatest threat to Tiberius. As it would turn out, the greatest threat to the regime was a former emperor with a mutilated face. The slit-nosed former emperor in question was not Leontios, who was under close watch in his monastery. Instead, it was Justinian II, the man that had been deposed, mutilated and exiled by Leontios in 695.

While Constantinople and its empire were falling into varying levels of disarray and threat during the reigns of Leontios (r. 695-698) and Tiberius III (r. 698-705), the ousted former emperor, Justinian II, was boiling with rage in his place of exile at Cherson. From that Crimean location, Justinian spent his years of exile making diplomatic inroads with the leaders of the nearby Khazars and Bulgarians, and he also subtly connected with potential allies among the Greek nobility. In 705, Justinian II began making moves to return to power. First, he relocated to the Khazar Khaganate, where he struck up a political alliance by marrying the Khagan’s (or Khan’s) sister, Theodora. These moves, however, did not go unnoticed by Tiberius III in Constantinople. He sent agents to the Khazar lands to attempt to bring about the assassination of the former emperor. How direct of an involvement the Khagan had in Tiberius III’s plot is debatable, but notable Khazar figures were recruited by the conspirators. Tiberius’ scheme, however, was foiled when Justinian’s Khazar wife, Theodora, learned of the plot and the complicity of certain Khazar officials. Justinian, learning the news from his wife, reportedly killed the would-be assassins and quickly fled to the lands of his other prospective ally, the Bulgarians. There, he successfully negotiated a partnership with the Bulgarian leader, Tervel, and they marched together against Constantinople. Justinian used his old Heraclian dynasty knowledge to locate for his forces a secret tunnel into the capital city that was unknown to the usurpers. Utilizing the secret passage, Justinian II seized control of Constantinople and began relentlessly hunting his long, personal list of enemies, including Leontios, the man who had deposed him ten years prior. Theophanes described the hellish purge that ensued:

“In this year Justinian regained the imperial power. He gave Tervel many presents (including imperial regalia) and sent him off in peace. Apsimaros had abandoned the city and fled to Apollonias. He was pursued, seized, and brought to Justinian. Herakleios was brought in bonds from Thrace along with all the officers who were his comrades. Justinian hanged them all on the wall. He also sent men to the interior who routed out many more officers and killed them, those who had been active against him and those who had not alike. He triumphantly paraded Leontios and Apsimaros through the whole city in chains…Then he sent Leontios and Apsimaros to the Kynegion and beheaded them. Justinian blinded the patriarch Kallinikos and exiled him to Rome” (Theophanes, Chronographia, entry for Annus Mundi 6198 [706-707 CE]).

So ended the life of Leontios. After usurping power from Justian II in 695, unfortunate Leontios had his own power usurped by Apsimaros in 698, and both usurpers met their ends in 705 at the hands of Justinian II, the man that Leontios had deposed at the beginning of the peculiar saga. Unfortunately for the realm, all the bloodshed and treachery only made Justian II all the more paranoid and tyrannical. His second period of rule would be a reign of terror until yet another military rebellion ousted Justinian in 711. Whereas Leontios had spared the emperor’s life and sentenced him to exile, the rebels of 711 instead killed Justinian and his son, ending the Heraclian dynasty that had been in power since 610.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Left: Solidus of Emperor Justinian II, dated between 692-695, [Public Domain] via the MET. Right: Portrait of Emperor Leontios based on a coin, by Joos Gietleughen (c. 16th century), [Public Domain] via the Rijksmuseum).

Sources:

  • Theophanes, The Chronicle of Theophanes, translated by Harry Turtledove. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1982.
  • The Oxford Dictionary of Late Antiquity, edited by Oliver Nicholson. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2018.
  • https://www.britannica.com/biography/Justinian-II

Pallas Athena In Fight Against Centaurs, by Milan Thomka Mitrovský (c. 1875–1943)

This painting, by Milan Thomka Mitrovský (c. 1875–1943), depicts the ancient Greek goddess, Athena, battling a herd of centaurs. Athena (known as Minerva to the Romans) embodied a curious mix of godly themes. On the one hand, she was a ferocious, powerful and cunning war goddess. The poet Hesiod (flourished c. 8th century BCE), referencing Athena’s epithets of Tritogeneia and Atrytone, wrote of “pale-eyed Tritogenia, the fearsome rouser of the fray, leader of armies, the lady Atrytone, whose pleasure is in war and the clamour of battle” (Theogony, between lines 907-936). On the other hand, Athena was also a goddess of industry, invention, craftsmanship, and art. Her dual nature was vividly illustrated by the poet, Homer (c. 8th-7th centuries BCE), who described Athena as putting her soft, feminine robe (hand-woven by her) to the side in order to don her suit of formidable and fearsome battle gear. Homer wrote:

“On her father’s threshold Athene, daughter of Zeus who drives the storm-cloud, took off the soft embroidered robe she had made and worked with her own hands, replaced it with a tunic and over that put on the armour of Zeus who marshals the clouds, in preparation for war’s work with all its tears. Then she threw round her shoulders the terrifying fringed aegis. It was encircled with Fear, Strife, Force, chilling Pursuit and the Gorgon’s head, a ghastly monster, the awe-inspiring, potent emblem of Zeus. On her head she put her double-ridged golden helmet with its four plates, adorned with fighting men of a hundred towns. Then she stepped into the fiery chariot and took up the long, thick, heavy spear with which she breaks the ranks of warriors when she, the almighty Father’s child, is roused to anger” (Homer, The Iliad, book 5, approximately between lines 730-750).

This, then, is the mighty warrior goddess that is featured in the painting. She wields her spear and wears her helmet and her fringed aegis, along with the other pieces of divine armor. As for the centaurs, there are no prominent myths from ancient Greece or Rome that reference Athena battling this race of horse-men hybrids. The scene, therefore, is not a canonical re-creation of a myth.

With no famous myth to point to, the painting likely plays on symbolism and rivalries concerning Athena. One possible explanation is that the painting alludes to Athena’s connection to horses. As an industrious and inventive goddess, Athena was attributed with several horse innovations, including bridles and chariots. Due to this, she could be called by the title, Hippia or Hippeia. This was summarized by the 10th-century Suda Lexicon, which stated, ”Hippeia Athene (Athena-of-Horses)…she was the first to use a chariot and was called ‘of-Horses’ because of this” (Suidas s.v. Hippeia Athene via Theoi, trans. Suda On Line).  Similarly, the horse nature of centaurs could allude to some of Athena’s rivals among the gods. An unlikely, but possible, allusion could be to the god, Poseidon, who created the first horse while he competed (and lost) in a contest against Athena over which of the two would hold influence over Attica, Greece.

More plausibly, Mitrovský could have been inspired by the mythology of the centaurs, themselves, or their ancestry. Centaurs, according to Greek myth, traced their existence back to the war god, Ares (a proponent of rash and chaotic bloodshed), who was often attacked and ridiculed by Athena (an embodiment of rational and strategic force). Contrastingly, focusing specifically on the centaurs, it could be that the artist gravitated to their inclusion because of their own reputation in Greek mythology for lusty behavior and debauchery. Athena, a virgin goddess who rejected sexual advances, could be interpreted as fighting off those passions and desires in the painting, or she could be similarly battling the wild and chaotic nature that the centaurs inherited from their ancestor, Ares. Whatever the case, since there is no direct mythological tale to cite, the meaning (or lack thereof) concerning Athena and her battle with the centaurs is left up to the imagination of each individual viewer.

Sources:

Franz Kafka

Franz Kafka (c. 1883-1924)

“Everyone knows something about us, either the truth as far as they know it, or at least some rumour they’ve heard or more often made up, and everyone thinks about us more than necessary, but no one will tell you straight, they can’t bring themselves to talk about such things. And they’re right not to.”

  • From The Castle (chapter 16) by Franz Kafka. The translation used here is by John R. Williams (Wordsworth Editions, 2009).

The Fiery Failure Of The 703/704 Armenian Rebellion Against Umayyad Rule

Armenia, in the 7th century, was caught between two feuding empires. On the one hand, the region had been under Roman influence for well over a millennium. But, like much of the Roman Empire’s Middle Eastern and North African provinces in the 7th century, Armenia faced attacks by Arab armies, challenging the Roman/Byzantine capital of Constantinople’s ability to maintain control of the area. Armenia was largely occupied by the Arabs in successive military campaigns that occurred around 640, 643, and 650. By that point, the Arabs considered the region to be generally conquered, especially when the Armenian nobleman and regional military commander, Theodore Rshtuni, subsequently submitted in 653 to the eventual founder of the Umayyad Dynasty, Mu’awiya (r. 661-680). Yet, pockets of pro-Byzantine and anti-Arab resistance remained, launching attacks against the occupiers and keeping in contact with the emperors of Constantinople.

Although most of Armenia was under Arab influence by the time Mu’awiya became caliph, the emperors of Constantinople were able to help shape the remaining rebel strongholds of the Armenian borderland into buffer zones of resistance. Notably, Emperor Constans II of Constantinople (r. 641-668/669) managed to claw back some influence in Armenia around 657 or 658. His son, Emperor Constantine IV (r. 668-685), negotiated a truce with Mu’awiya after fending off the Umayyad leader’s unsuccessful siege of Constantinople between 674-678. And the Umayyad leader, Abd al-Malik (r. 685-705), negotiated a joint-rule scheme with Emperor Justinian II (r. 685-695, 705-711) that included conflict regions like Armenia. Justinian later broke the agreement and positioned troops for an Anatolic campaign, but the emperor’s amassed regional forces were dealt a decisive defeat by their Umayyad opponents in the Battle of Sebastopolis around 692 or 693, causing much of Anatolia to fall back under Arab sway. Unpopular Emperor Justinian II then was deposed by Emperor Leontios (r. 695-698), who in turn was supplanted by Tiberius III (r. 698-705), and both of those usurpers fared just as poorly or worse than Justinian against the Umayyads.

Despite the imperial chaos and drama back in Constantinople, the Armenian resistance was still alive and maintained a hope of throwing off Umayyad rule. Around the year 703 or 704, a sizable Armenian rebellion broke out against the Arab authorities stationed in the region, and the rebels reached out for military assistance from the reigning emperor of Constantinople, Tiberius III (known informally as Apsimar or Apsimaros). On this, the chronicler Theophanes (c. 750s-818) wrote, “In this year the leaders of Armenia rebelled against the Saracens and killed the Saracens there. They sent messengers to Apsimaros, who brought the Romans into their country” (Theophanes, Chronographia, entry for Annus Mundi 6195 [Sep. 703-Aug. 704]). The initial revolt, therefore, was a success. With the Umayyad governing officials defeated by the rebel forces and a new garrison of imperial troops on the way from Apsimaros/ Tiberius III, the situation was beginning to look promising for the resistance. Alas, when the imperial reinforcements arrived, they were too few in number, and far from effective.

Unfortunately for the Armenian rebels, the Arab leaders quickly pulled together a military force to confront the revolt, and the Umayyads committed more manpower, resources, and talented officers than Constantinople had dispatched to the region. Consequently, the Arab forces went on to carry out an efficient and decisive campaign against the rebellion. Emperor Tiberius III’s garrison there was defeated, the revolt was crushed, and the rebel leaders were captured. Theophanes described the fate of the rebellion and its principal figures, stating that the Arab general’s “campaign against them killed many. Once he had resubjected Armenia to the Saracens, he gathered the Armenian grandees together and burned them alive” (Theophanes, Chronographia, entry for Annus Mundi 6195). With the defeat of the Armenian rebels and the execution of its leaders, the emperors of Constantinople were dealt a major blow to their ambition of regaining influence in Armenia.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Camp Fire, by Winslow Homer (1836–1910), [Public Domain] via the MET).

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Glass Blowers Of Murano, Painted By Charles Frederick Ulrich (1858–1908)

American artist Charles Frederick Ulrich (1858–1908) was inspired to paint this scene of Muranese glassblowers around 1886 after he visited the island of Murano in the Venetian Lagoon of Italy. Murano’s glass industry has truly ancient roots, reaching back over a millennium to the time of the Roman Empire. In that era, Murano and the other islands of the Venetian Lagoon were seen as safe havens for refugees, and Romans fled to the islands when waves of chaos and bloodshed ravaged the Italian mainland. It was that crucible of war and conflict that set the settlement of the Venetian islands in motion and shaped the Venetian culture for industry, commerce, and glassmaking.

King Alaric of the Visigoths invaded Italy in 401 and sacked the city of Rome in 410. The Huns began attacking the Romans around a decade later, when the leader, Rua (also known as Ruga), invaded the region of Thrace in 422 and imposed extortionary tribute payments in exchange for peace. Rua’s nephew, Attila amped up the Hun war efforts, eviscerating the Balkan and Greek regions of the Eastern Roman Empire in the 440s. Attila then turned his ire to the Western Roman Empire, invading Gaul (France) in 451 and Italy in 452. The threat of the Huns prompted many people in the cities around the Gulf of Venice to flee to the islands of the Venetian Lagoon, where major settlement and development began in the 5th century.

A renewed wave of settlement occurred a century later, when King Alboin of the Lombards (r. 560s-572) invaded Italy in 568. The Emperors of Constantinople recognized Venice as a strategic defensive position in their war against the Lombards, and Byzantine forces (as well as accompanying priests, craftsmen, and camp followers) were stationed on the islands of the lagoon by the 7th century. Murano, like many of the other islands of the lagoon, saw settlement in this chaotic period between the 5th and 7th centuries. Notably, the inhabitants of the Venetian Lagoon quickly took to glassmaking, as, according to archaeological evidence, there was a noticeable glass industry in the region as early as the 6th or 7th century.

In the following centuries, Venice achieved autonomy and relative independence (although they remained titularly under Constantinople’s control) during the complicated political power shifts between Constantinople’s Byzantine Empire and Charlemagne’s ascendant Frankish empire (which set the seeds for the Kingdoms of France and Italy, and the Germanic Holy Roman Empire). The time period was made all the more tumultuous by Norman invasions of Italy, and especially the era of the Crusades (1095-1291). It was an age rife for opportunism and dealmaking, and the Venetians excelled at both. During that time of war and chaos, Venice became a dominant sea power in the Mediterranean, setting up a network of trade ports that crossed international boundaries and generated incredible wealth for Venetian merchants.

Although glassmakers had been present in the Venetian Lagoon since the 6th or 7th century, a major turning point for the Venetian glass industry was the 13th century. A catalyst may have been Venice’s role in the Fourth Crusade, when the Venetians and Crusaders captured the imperial city of Constantinople in 1204. During the looting of the great city and the aftermath of the war, the Venetians seized Byzantine glass techniques and brought imperial glassworkers back to Venice. Amid this influx of glass production, a Venetian glassblower guild was formed around 1224, and a decision was subsequently made to move and consolidate the glassblowing workshops to the island of Murano in 1291. The glassblowers embraced ancient glass styles, such as the murrine (mosaic) and millefiori (thousand flower) techniques. In the following centuries, Muranese glassblowers innovated and made new discoveries. Notably, Angelo Barovier (1405-1460) invented a method to produce clear cristallo glass. The 15th century also saw the advent of the aventurine technique (clear glass with metallic powder or particles), as well as the marbled and stone-like calcedonio glass. In the 16th century, advances in glass engraving were achieved, and it was also in that century that the filigrana technique (often mislabeled as latticino or latticinio in the English language market) was created, in which glass canes or threads are arranged to make complex patterns. Murano’s glassmakers found that there was a high demand in Europe for their glass products, and the Venetian trade network was readily available to facilitate the commerce.

Murano reached a peak in glass production in the 16th century, when the glassworker community on the island was reportedly more than 30,000 people strong. Yet, with so many people aware of Murano’s trade secrets, the industry became susceptible to state and corporate espionage. During the course of the 16th century, many other major European powers managed to acquire Murano’s techniques and were able to produce their own Venetian-styled glass. By the 18th century, major Murano masters, themselves, were leaving their island to set up shop in other countries. With the loss of the monopoly on their techniques and the departure of some master glassblowers, the Venetian and Muranese glass industry experienced a lull in popularity, which negatively impacted Muranese business, morale, and enthusiasm.

At the turn of the 18th century into the 19th century, Venice was in crisis—both economically and geopolitically. Economically, the Muranese glassblowers had not yet adjusted to the reality of vibrant foreign competition and a reduction in demand for Venetian glass. Geopolitically, it was the time when post-Revolution France was at war with the rest of Europe, and Venice became embroiled in the conflicts. Amid the fighting, France and Austria arranged for Venice to be placed under Austrian control in the 1797 Treaty of Campo Formio. Following this treaty, Napoleon became First Consul (r. 1799–1804) and then Emperor of France (r. 1804–1814/15). Later, the Prussians forced Austria to finally cede Venice to the Kingdom of Italy in 1866.  Fittingly, this reunification of Venice with Italy also coincided with a growing mid-century revival for the glassmakers on Murano.

Major players in the revival at that time were the Salviati, Barovier and Toso families. Of these names, the first to start their business was the Toso clan, with Angelo, Carlo, Ferdinando, Giovanni, Gregorio and Liberato Toso founding their Fratelli Toso company in 1854. Their financial needs were met by creating bottles and pieces for lighting fixtures (like chandeliers and candelabras), but they were also known to produce award-winning glass art that they displayed at exhibitions. A few years later, Antonio Salviati (1816-1890), a lawyer who was struck by a passion for glassmaking, formed a company called Salviati Dott. Antonio fu Bartolomeo in 1859 with the prominent glassmaker Lorenzo Radi (who had previously rediscovered how to produce calcedonio glass in 1856). This would be the first of many iterations of the Salviati & C. (or Salviati & Co.) business. Notably, it was also around this same span of time that the Murano Glass Museum was founded in 1861 by Antonio Colleoni (1811-1855) and Abbot Vincenzo Zanetti (1824-1883). They also set up a school for glassblowing in 1862.

Antonio Salviati was an excellent marketer and salesman. On the one hand, he achieved prestigious contracts, such as his company’s manufacturing of a Last Supper mosaic for the high altar of Westminster Abbey between 1867-1873, but, on the other hand, he also pushed his company toward a mass-production model catered to more affordable glass products. Around the time of the Westminster Abbey project, Antonio Salviati partnered with English investors, notably Sir Austen Henry Layard (c. 1817-1894), and they created another company called Societá Anonima per Azioni Salviati & C. in 1866. The name of that business was changed to The Venice & Murano Glass & Mosaic Company Limited (Salviati & C.) in 1872, but there were growing tensions between the English and Italian partners.

Meanwhile, around the same time, the Fratelli Toso company, began leaning more into art glass and won their first gold medal at the 1864 Murano Glass Exhibition (their first of many), and acquired a deal that same year to create reproductions of historical Venetian Renaissance art based on the Murano Museum collection. As Fratelli Toso continued to win gold medals at other expos every year or so (1867, 1868, 1869, 1872…), Antonio Salviati was navigating himself into new business deals. The growing disagreements with his English investors prompted Antonio Salviati to depart from the English-backed iteration of Salviati & Co. Upon this break-up in 1877, Sir Layard founded Compagnia Venezia-Murano (CVM), whereas Antonio Salviati created a new Salviati & C. (for mosaics and retail), and another Salviati Dott. Antonio company for glassblowing and the production of art glass and glassware. The Barovier glassblowing family was involved in the founding and operations of the Salviati Dott. Antonio company, and Antonio Salviati sold that portion of the business to the Barovier family around 1883. Per contract, the Barovier-owned Salviati Dott. Antonio glassblowing operation was to keep its name (until after Antonio’s death), and the Baroviers would supply glass to Antonio Salviati’s Salviati & C. mosaic and retail company. Salviati & C. also contracted with the Fratelli Toso company to supply Salviati & C. with murrine technique glass in the 1890s. After Antonio Salviati’s death in 1890, the Barovier family would eventually change the name of the Salviati Dott. Antonio operation to Artisti Barovier, which would evolve into the modern Barovier & Toso company.

Such is the history that Charles Frederick Ulrich walked into when he visited the island of Murano around 1886. He arrived about three years after the Barovier purchase of the Salviati Dott. Antonio company. Unfortunately, Ulrich did not clearly define which glass companies he visited, or the specific workshops that inspired his painting. Given the date, it would have likely been a workshop associated with Salviati & C., Salviati Dott. Antonio, or Fratelli Toso. Whatever the case, the American painter was inspired by the family aspect of the Muranese glass community. He emphasized this familial scene by depicting men and women of all ages and generations in his painting.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Murano Glass Examples

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Deuteronomy

Deuteronomy
(A Book of the Bible also known as Děbārîm (Words) or Mishneh Torah (A Copy of the Law). It was written and edited between the 7th and 6th centuries BC)

“Cursed be anyone who deprives an alien, an orphan, or a widow of justice.”

  • Deuteronomy 27.19 (New Revised Standard Version Updated Edition translation [NRSVUE], 2021).

Pliny the Younger’s Perfectly Round, Sacred Lake With Floating Cows

Pliny the Younger (c. 61/62-113), like his uncle Pliny the Elder (c. 23-79), was a man of well-rounded scholarly interests, including natural history. The younger Pliny, when he was not practicing law, or offering professional financial advice, or serving as an administrative official of the Roman Empire, he often passed his free time by writing letters to his friends and acquaintances, regaling them about his interests, including the aforementioned subject of natural history. He liked to emphasize Italy’s own natural wonders, and in his opinion, one such wonder of nature resided in his own extended family’s property.

Pliny the Younger, through his wife’s grandfather, became responsible for a body of water known then as Lake Vadimon, near the ancient Italian locale of Ameria (approximately the modern Amelia region of Umbria). The lake was located to the northwest of what is now the town of Orte. Back in Pliny’s day, the body of water was an impressive sight. As a sacred place, people believed that the water had healing properties. But, most strikingly, the lake appeared to be perfectly round to the naked eye. The environment there was noticeably marshy in nature, with water-plants thriving on the lake, creating buoyant masses that looked like floating islands. Pliny the Younger proudly described his family’s sacred lake, comparing it to exotic overseas natural attractions. He wrote:

“My wife’s grandfather had asked me to look at his property in Ameria. While going round I was shown a lake at the foot of the hills called Lake Vadimon, and at the same time told some extraordinary facts about it. I went down to look at it, and found it was perfectly round and regular in shape, like a wheel lying on its side, without a single irregular bend or curve, and so evenly proportioned that it might have been artificially shaped and hollowed out. It is subdued in colour, pale blue with a tinge of green, has a smell of sulphur and a mineral taste, and the property of healing fractures. It is of no great size but large enough for the wind to raise waves on its surface. There are no boats on it, as the waters are sacred, but floating islands, green with reeds and sedge and the other plants which grow more profusely on the marshy ground at the edge of the lake. Each island has its peculiar shape and size, and all have their edges worn away by friction, as they are constantly knocking against each other and the shore…The small islands often attach themselves to the larger, like small boats to a merchant ship, and both large and small sometimes appear to be racing each other; or they are all driven to one side of the lake to create a headland where they cling to the shore” (Pliny the Younger, Letters, 8.20).

Despite the sacred nature of the lake, the surrounding fields were evidently home to roving cattle, which could result in comical sights. According to Pliny, it was not uncommon for cows to wander their way onto the beached water-plant islands, and the floating masses had enough buoyancy to carry an unsuspecting cow out for a journey on the lake. Pliny reported, “Cattle are often known to walk on the islands while grazing, taking them for the edge of the lake, and only realize that they are on moving ground when carried off from the shore as if forcibly put on board ship, and are terrified to find themselves surrounded by water; then, when they land where the wind has carried them, they are no more conscious of having ended their voyage than they were of embarking on it” (Pliny the Younger, Letters, 8.20).

Unfortunately, in the current day, there is very little water left above ground at the site of the lake. Back in Pliny’s day, he wrote of how, “Another feature of the lake is the river leading from it, which is visible for a short distance before it enters a cave and continues its course at a great depth” (Letters, 8.20). It seems that, over the millennia, the majority of the lake water has flowed down into those deepening underground caves, decreasing the size of the lake as the outflow outpaced the replenishing inflow. Given its greatly reduced size, the lake can no longer sustain the great floating plant masses that once carried cattle across the water.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Cropped Lake Albano and Castel Gandolfo, by Camille Corot (1796–1875) [Public Domain] via MET, with A Cow by Jan Vrolijk, dated 1879, [Public Domain] via Creative Commons and Rijksmuseum).

Sources:

  • The Letters of Pliny the Younger, translated by Betty Radice. New York: Penguin Classics, 1963, 1969.