3

Zonaras’ Working Method and Treatment of His Sources

To examine the manner in which the chronicler treats and adapts his source material, I have looked at, separately, the two distinct thematic sections of the Epitome that were identified in the previous chapter—the Jewish and the Roman. The first part of the chapter concentrates on the proem of the Epitome and the following ones on the sections dedicated to Jewish and Roman history.

3.1 The Proem of the Epitome

The proem of Zonaras’ chronicle, traditionally the part in which an author describes the scope and purposes of his enquiry, is enlightening in many respects. First, it provides an insight into Zonaras’ ideas of a flawed historical narrative; second, it reveals the overall purpose of the work; and third, it gives a precise outline of the chronicle’s contents and names some of the major sources used by the writer. In his extensive analysis of Zonaras’ proem, Grigoriadis compares the literary aspects of the proem to elements we find in the proems of other histories from the middle Byzantine period.¹ Grigoriadis highlights particularly how Zonaras employed and adapted common literary motifs for his own work. More recently, Nicholas Matheou, exploring several aspects of Zonaras’ proem, has suggested that the writer might have loosely modelled his proem on the introduction to the chronicle of George the Monk.²

Zonaras follows closely the recommendations of Byzantine rhetorical textbooks, the so-called progymnasmata, about the purposes of a proem.³ In the fifth-century progymnasmata of Nicholas of Myra, for example, we read that the function and aim of a proem is ‘to cultivate the attention, the knowledge and the goodwill’ (‘τὸ προσοχὴν καὶ εὐμάθειαν καὶ εὔνοιαν ἐργάσασθαι’) of the audience.⁴ In accordance with the instructions of Byzantine rhetoricians, Zonaras seeks first to gain the attention and goodwill of his readers, and then to inform them about the principal subjects of the Epitome.

Indeed, the chronicler is well aware how important it is to win his readers’ attention right from the very beginning of his account. For this reason, he starts immediately with a captatio benevolentiae. In the first sentence of the proem, he employs an effective rhetorical device: he accepts an accusation that his intended audience might level against him. He admits that his readers would ‘rightly’ (‘εύστόχως’) criticize him for bestowing more importance upon a ‘secondary task’ (‘πάρεργον’)—that of recording the past—than his monastic duties, with the adverb ‘εύστόχως’ being emphatically placed at the beginning of the sentence to create an impression of humility.⁵ To show his modesty, Zonaras explains that he sees his project as a means of atoning to God for his past faults. Trying to secure the goodwill of his audience further, he also tells us that he is not interested in the fine things monastic life has to offer, but would rather devote himself to an arduous task, the composition of a historical work.⁶

The author reveals that he did not take up writing of his own accord. Having noticed that Zonaras was ‘at leisure’ (‘σχολάζοντα’), a group of friends, who remain anonymous, urged him to devote his spare time to ‘a work of general benefit’ (‘ἔργον κοινωφελές’).⁷ Claims by writers that they were encouraged by other people to carry out a project are a longstanding literary trope.⁸ Statements of a similar kind are made by Zonaras in the proems of the Exegesis of the holy and sacred canons, the commentary on Sophronios of Jerusalem and the exegesis of the Gnomic Tetrastichs of Gregory of Nazianzos, as well as in the exegesis of the Resurrectional Canons in the Octoechos.⁹ Zonaras’ language is very formulaic, particularly in the Epitome and the commentary on Sophronios, where synonymous phrases make their appearance.¹⁰ The fact, however, that it was common for authors to employ such motifs does not necessarily mean that their remarks were not based on real circumstances. Zonaras’ claim that he was asked to produce his chronicle by friends may indicate, to some extent that, although no longer part of the inner circle of the Empire’s intellectual life, he was still in contact with a group of literati outside his monastery and engaged with them in scholarly discussions.

Furthermore, presenting his decision to start writing as the granting of the wishes of somebody else was a convenient means for Zonaras to introduce his works without appearing presumptuous to his audience. In the Epitome, it also provided him with the narrative context to voice his own opinion as to how a history should be written.¹¹ The author attributes to his friends a series of critical remarks about earlier historians in terms of the content and style of their accounts. He thus uses his friends as literary personae in a way that allows him to reveal his aesthetic approach to historical works. Zonaras’ acquaintances are said to disapprove, first of all, of particularly long narratives, those in which authors deal exhaustively with war and provide information about military strategies, battles, and the geography of battlefields, among other things. They have a negative attitude, moreover, towards those who compose lengthy, rhetorically ornate speeches in order to display their own erudition, as well as those who include numerous dialogues in their narratives to defend and communicate their religious doctrines. This type of material is seen as unnecessarily prolonging historical narratives and possibly as tiring the audience as a result. Zonaras’ friends are equally critical of extremely succinct historical accounts because these do not talk ‘about the important events’ (‘περὶ τὰ καίρια’) and ‘the most important actions’ (‘τὰς καιριωτέρας τῶν πράξεων’) of certain historical figures.¹² Such concision would make it difficult for readers to evaluate the characters of these figures. Other works are rejected due to their poor linguistic qualities, with Zonaras dismissing their style as solecistic and their language as ‘ordinary and sometimes even barbaric’ (‘ἰδιωτικαῖς λέξεσιν […] ἢ καὶ βαρβάροις ἐνίοτε’).¹³ The implication that underlies these critical remarks is that the Epitome does not exhibit any of the flaws identified in previous historical accounts.

The chronicler is instructed by his acquaintances to produce a ‘short history’ (‘σύντομον ἱστορίαν’), omitting a great many details which would be neither easy to remember nor beneficial to his readers.¹⁴ Zonaras’ acquaintances conclude their critique by prompting the chronicler to compose a work ‘which will succinctly teach the readers of the text the most important deeds and other circumstances’ (‘συνοπτικῶς διδάσκουσαν τοὺς ἐπιόντας τὸ σύγγραμμα τὰ καιριώτερα τῶν πεπραγμένων ἢ καὶ ἄλλως συμβεβηκότων’). These guidelines can give us an insight into Zonaras’ overall purpose in writing his chronicle: to compose a compact historical account, the content of which would be useful to his audience. His project was clearly intended to be a work of general benefit, as he notes earlier in the proem. One important concept that emerges here is that of the public utility of a historical work, which was a commonplace among ancient and medieval historiographers. The use of the verb ‘διδάσκω’ in the segment quoted above attests to the fact that the Epitome was meant to have an edifying character. Zonaras’ objective, in other words, was to produce a work of educational value which would be brief and focus only on the most significant facts. The didactic dimension of the Epitome is emphasized elsewhere, too, particularly in connection with the author’s intention to communicate to his readers the transformation over time of the Roman political system. This subject will be treated extensively in the fifth chapter.¹⁵

It is remarkable that the emphasis on the didactic purpose of the chronicle goes hand in hand with the concept of brevity. Similar observations about the close connection between the educational character and the synoptic quality of a text have been made in relation to poetry.¹⁶ Writing in verse was considered a form of expression befitting teaching purposes, because ‘verse is capable of summarizing ideas in short syntactical units’.¹⁷ To achieve his own didactic goals, however, Zonaras chose to write in prose and, more than that, composed a narrative of enormous length. His idea of brevity is linked to his method of work: he tries to achieve brevity by heavily compressing his sources, as we shall see in the course of this chapter. If viewed in this context, the idea of public utility acquires an additional dimension; instead of studying the primary sources themselves, Zonaras’ audience can thumb through the Epitome and learn the basics of Jewish and Roman history much more quickly. The chronicle, in other words, is presented by Zonaras as a compendium of history, a source which would be easy for readers to use.

Zonaras’ historical compendium has three significant limitations, however, as the author himself acknowledges in his proem. First, he explains that his narrative is not very precise in certain parts due to the obstacles he encountered in the process of collecting and studying his source material.¹⁸ Composing his work at the monastery on the island of St Glykeria, he found it hard to find all the books he needed for his work. Second, he says that the texts he had at his disposal occasionally gave different accounts of the same event. He regrets that he could not record all the versions of a story, but says that this would have made his narrative too long. He adds that he will note the discrepancies between different accounts only when these are crucial to his narrative and could not be left out.¹⁹ Finally, the chronicler accounts for the lack of consistency in terms of the linguistic style of his text. He explains that he frequently tried to imitate the language of his sources, either by including phrases taken from them or by changing his own style to fit theirs.²⁰

In some manuscripts, the proem concludes with a series of theological remarks about the Creation of the world and the human race. This passage does not appear in two of the three manuscripts on which Pinder depended for his edition of Books 1 to 9 of the chronicle, namely the Par. gr. 1715 and the Vind. hist. gr. 16, but can be found in the Monac. gr. 324. For this reason, Pinder regarded the passage as a later interpolation and placed it in brackets.²¹ This judgement must be correct because the paragraph contains a paraphrase of some doctrinal observations that are present in Zonaras’ narrative of the Creation shortly after.²² One can reasonably conclude that this paragraph was added by a later copyist who paraphrased an extract from the main text.

3.2 The Jewish Section: Books 1 to 6

Zonaras’ account of Jewish history comprises approximately a third of the entire Epitome. It extends from the Creation of the world to the destruction of Jerusalem by the Romans in ad 70, a period more or less covered by most Byzantine chronicles.

The most comprehensive investigation into the source material of the first six books of the Epitome is offered by two nineteenth-century studies, both of which remain very useful. In his work of 1839, Schmidt provided a thorough analysis of all the known sources employed by Zonaras to the end of Book 12.²³ The sources identified by Schmidt for Books 1 to 6, in particular, are: the Old Testament; Josephus’ JA and JW; Eusebios of Caesarea’s Church History; Theodoret of Cyrrhus’ Commentary on Daniel; Xenophon’s Cyropaedia; Herodotus’ Histories; and Plutarch’s Life of Artaxerxes and Life of Alexander. Most of Schmidt’s findings were confirmed in an equally detailed study by Büttner-Wobst in 1890.²⁴

It is clear that the chronicler derives the greatest amount of material for his presentation of the Jewish past from the JA (through a Byzantine epitome).²⁵ Consisting of twenty books, Josephus’ magnum opus is a very long work. It begins with the biblical Creation and ends in ad 66, just before the onset of the Roman-Jewish War.²⁶ The epitome of JA, which was employed by Zonaras, is about a third shorter than the original Josephan text. The corresponding section of Zonaras’ chronicle is about half of the length of this epitome and, consequently, about a sixth of the length of the JA. As I discussed on another occasion,²⁷ the epitome of the JA, accurately follows Josephus’ division of his material into twenty books. The anonymous author of the epitome provides a summary of Josephus’ narrative, copying faithfully both the content and the language of his source. He even uses the first-person singular and first-person plural in cases where Josephus does so, and repeats almost word for word the preface and the epilogue of the JA. The chronicler, in other words, had a faithful abridgement of the JA at his disposal. Large portions of his source are usually summarized, paraphrased or, less frequently, copied almost verbatim into Zonaras’ account. Steven Bowman highlights, however, that the chronicler omitted much of the literary, philosophical, and documentary material included in the JA (and the epitome).²⁸ There can be no doubt that the Epitome owes much to the narrative structure of Josephus’ work. Not only does the chronicler use individual episodes included in the JA (and the epitome), but he also follows very closely the sequence of events found there to build the main spine of his own narrative. A brief overview of the narrative structure of the Jewish section of the Epitome demonstrates this.

Zonaras opens his main text with a few lines dedicated to Christian doctrine concerning the nature of God.²⁹ He then moves on to describe the period from the Creation to the death of Saul. The sequence of events follows that of the JA (Books 1 to 6) and the first nine Old Testament books (from Genesis to Samuel 1). Afterwards, special emphasis is given to David’s reign. The narrative from that point on is organized chronologically according to reigns in a fashion similar to that of the JA (from Book 7 to Book 10, chapter 144) and the biblical Samuel 2, Kings 1, 2 and Chronicles 1, 2. For the events following the conquest of Jerusalem by the Babylonians in 579 bc, Josephus incorporates a large amount of material from the biblical book of Daniel into his composition. Remaining close to the narrative sequence of the JA, Zonaras moves on to relate the apocalyptic visions of the prophet Daniel, deriving material mainly from Josephus and Theodoret’s Commentary on Daniel. After this, for the first time in his narrative, Zonaras stops using Josephus and relates the stories of Judith and Tobit, heavily abridging the biblical books devoted to them. Resuming the use of the JA, he turns the focus of his narrative to Persian history. Zonaras’ presentation of the life of Cyrus the Great is essentially a summary of Xenophon’s Cyropaedia. Drawing on Josephan material yet again, Zonaras deals next with Cyrus’ successors Cambyses II, Darius I, Xerxes I and Artaxerxes I. Abridging Plutarch’s Life of Alexander, he then relates the military successes of Alexander the Great. Moving on to the Hellenistic period, he uses the JA as his major source. He maintains the narrative focus of Josephus’ text and is primarily concerned with the Ptolemaic kingdom and the Seleucid Empire. The selection and order of episodes towards the end of the chronicle’s Jewish section follow that of the JA and later the JW, to which Zonaras also had access (either directly or through an intermediary source).³⁰ Much emphasis is given by the author to the rule of Herod the Great and the rule of his successors. Next, Zonaras proceeds to an account of the events that led to the Jewish revolt against the Romans, and subsequently to the Roman conquest of Jerusalem. From that point onwards, the writer heavily abridges Books 3 to 7 of the JW. The corresponding section of Zonaras’ chronicle is about a seventh of the size of Books 3 to 7 of the JW. The chronicler does not find it necessary to derive material from the first couple of books of the JW, as these offer a summary of information included in the JA. The JW is essentially the only source which Zonaras consults in the last part of the chronicle’s Jewish section, as, unlike earlier in his presentation of the Jewish past, he is not mixing Josephan material with relevant information from other texts. Apart from this difference observed in the sections of the chronicle which draw on Josephus’ works, there is no noticeable difference in the way Zonaras handles and excerpts the JW and the epitome of the JA.

Zonaras makes repeated references to Josephus to highlight the chronicle’s close connection to his works; a search in the Thesaurus Linguae Graecae shows that Josephus is the most frequently cited author in the Epitome, with Zonaras referring to the writer by name on more than fifty occasions. On this evidence, it seems that the chronicler’s aim was not simply to acknowledge the principal source from which the Jewish material of his work derives, but, more importantly, to establish in the eyes of his readers the strong dependence of his chronicle on Josephus’ works. This betrays not only Zonaras’ own appreciation of Josephus as a historian but also that of his contemporary audience.

It is no coincidence that in cases when the author wishes to enhance or confirm the veracity of what he says, he employs lengthy word-for-word quotations from the epitome of the JA. This can be seen, for instance, in Zonaras’ conclusion of the biblical story of Noah. The writer remarks that Noah died at the age of 950.³¹ To address the doubts his readers might have about Noah’s longevity, he quotes verbatim an extensive passage from his source, which explains why Noah enjoyed such a long life. Similarly, in his account of the execution of John the Baptist by Herod Antipas, Zonaras inserts into his text an extract of approximately twelve lines taken from the epitome of the JA in support of his claim that some Jewish people attributed Herod’s military defeat by Aretas IV Philopatris to his hideous crime.³² Evidently, for Zonaras, the use of Josephus as a source added importance, authority, and appeal to his account.

Some of the Old Testament material present in the chronicle was transmitted to the text via the works of Josephus, who himself drew extensively on the biblical text.³³ At the same time, Zonaras augmented his main source with much information taken directly from the Old Testament. He explicitly acknowledges Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Deuteronomy, Joshua, and the Kings as his sources.³⁴ It is apparent, moreover, that he derived some material from the books of Numbers, Chronicles, Judith, and Tobit. Zonaras followed the Septuagint corpus alone. Like several of his fellow chroniclers, he is aware of the content of the book of Jubilees, one of the Jewish-Christian texts that are nowadays characterized as pseudepigrapha, but questions its validity.³⁵ His negative opinion of the text is clearly laid out at the beginning of his narrative of the Creation, when he emphatically states that: ‘I [Zonaras] do not regard anything written there as certain, neither do I weave (such material) into my account’ (‘οὐδέν τι τῶν ἐν ἐκείνῃ γεγραμμένων λογίζομαι βέβαιον, οὐδὲ τῷ λόγῳ συντίθεμαι’).³⁶ Since the Jubilees does not count among the writings that were approved by the Church, Zonaras considered the work an unreliable source of information, and one which should not be used in his narrative. However, echoes of the Jubilees can in fact be found in the Epitome. Zonaras ignores the fact that Josephus, his principal authority, interpolated items of information from the Jubilees into the JA.³⁷ As a simple indication of this, following Josephus, Zonaras gives the name of the daughter of Pharaoh who saved the infant Moses as Tarmuth (‘Θέρμουθις’), a name that does not appear in any other source prior to Josephus, apart from the Jubilees.³⁸

Interestingly, the chronicler occasionally compares short pieces of information collected from the books of the Old Testament and the JA, although the two sources do not present substantial differences. He closely examines the texts and indicates slight differences between the descriptions of a certain place or a certain event. To take an example, he draws a detailed comparison between the description of the Holy Temple of Solomon in the JA and the description in the Kings. He records the points on which the two accounts agree or disagree, and provides accurate references to the sections of his sources where this material is included.³⁹ In other cases, he points out that an item of information contained in the biblical text is omitted by Josephus or that a certain passage of the Old Testament offers a more reliable account than the corresponding section of the JA.⁴⁰ It is remarkable, moreover, that he pays considerable attention to the different terms or the different names given by his sources. He underlines, for instance, that ‘the tree of knowledge’ (‘ξύλον τῆς γνώσεως’) mentioned in Genesis is called the tree ‘of judgment’ (‘τῆς φρονήσεως’) by Josephus.⁴¹

The emphasis Zonaras places on trivial differences between the JA and the Old Testament is not in line with the author’s statement in the proem, namely that points on which his sources contradict one another will feature in his text only if they are crucial to the coherence of the narrative. The writer deviates from his intended practice to emphasize that he is drawing very carefully on source texts and that he is striving to compose an accurate account of the history of the people of Israel. As Roger Scott has argued, chroniclers ‘often use repetition and apparent plagiarism as a way of demonstrating their authenticity and accuracy’.⁴²

On certain occasions, the chronicler deliberately deviates from the narrative of his sources to introduce several pieces of extraneous information in the form of digressions. Zonaras introduces the biblical stories of Judith and Tobit as a brief excursus from the narrative of Josephus.⁴³ Since the books of Judith and Tobit are not among those of the Jewish Torah, they were left out by Josephus. Zonaras might have found this omission odd; he considers these stories edifying and includes them in his text. A longer part of the narrative which is also presented as a self-contained, parenthetical unit is the one dedicated to Alexander the Great. This can be seen in the opening sentences of the passage, where the author explains to his readers that he will pause his presentation of the Jewish past to relate the life and achievements of the illustrious Macedonian king.⁴⁴ Zonaras’ intention behind this digression is to enrich his narrative with information from Plutarch’s Alexander. These examples highlight that, when the writer had access to sources that furnished a new store of material, he would systematically mix this material with information from the works that formed the backbone of his text. Even when the information he had at his disposal was not directly connected to the main narrative line, he was determined to include it in his composition.

One can occasionally discern his efforts to draw together the different subjects of his account. An indication of this is provided by the transitional paragraph that follows the story of Tobit and enables Zonaras to smoothly integrate into his text a great amount of material from the Cyropaedia.⁴⁵ In this paragraph, the author briefly recapitulates an episode he recounted earlier in his narrative—the captivity of the Jewish people by the Assyrians (in the mid-eighth century bc) and Jeremiah’s apocalyptic prophecy about the destruction of the Assyrian kingdom—and then introduces the topic with which he will deal shortly afterwards, the history of the Persian Empire. He claims that the reason why he wishes to recount the history of the Persians is because it will eventually prove the reliability of Jeremiah’s prophecy. Indeed, as Zonaras narrates later, it was the Persian ruler Cyrus the Great who destroyed the Assyrian rulership.⁴⁶ It should be noted that this pattern of connection is not a result of Josephus’ influence on Zonaras, since in the corresponding section of the JA, the Jewish historian moves directly from the story of Daniel to the presentation of the Persian past.

3.3 The Roman Section: Books 7 to 18

3.3.1 Pre-Constantinian Roman History: Books 7 to 12

In Pinder and Bϋttner-Wobst’s three-volume edition of the chronicle, the section which concerns pre-Constantinian Roman history covers the entire second volume, representing more than 620 pages of printed text. For his narrative up to the reign of Nerva, Zonaras is based on one principal source: the Roman History of Cassius Dio, a voluminous work which consisted of eighty books and extended from the foundation of Rome to ad 229.⁴⁷ Dio’s work has not come down to us intact. Books 22 to 35 have been almost entirely lost, while Books 55 to 60 and 79 to 80 have been preserved only in fragments. Zonaras, though, had more of the text at his disposal, though he too lacked the books that dealt with the late Republican period. Due to the chronicler’s strong dependence on Dio, the Epitome—along with the Excerpta of Constantine Porphyrogennetos and John Xiphilinos’ Epitome of Dio—has been used by scholars to reconstruct the lost books of Dio’s work.

The chronicler supplements Dio’s history with a good deal of information from Plutarch’s Lives of renowned mythological and historical figures of Rome: Romulus, Numa, Publicola, Camillus, Aemilius Paulus, Pompey, Caesar, Brutus, and Antony. In addition, Zonaras occasionally consulted Xiphilinos, who epitomized Books 36 to 80 of Dio’s work.⁴⁸ The section from the reign of Trajan to that of Alexander Severus seems to be based primarily on Xiphilinos’ narrative, although Zonaras must have been reading Dio’s text at the same time.⁴⁹ From that point on, it is very hard to identify the principal sources which underpin the chronicle. It has been argued that the author heavily depends on Dio’s Anonymous Continuator and John of Antioch, and that he also employs the works of Theodor Lector, Appian, and Philostratus, among other writers.⁵⁰ Evidently, the chief work on which he relies for Church affairs is Eusebios of Caesarea’s Church History.

The legend of Aeneas, the refugee from Troy who became the founder of the Roman nation, serves as the starting point for Zonaras’ account of Roman history. Showing no interest at all in Aeneas’ Greek–Trojan background, the author tells us only of the hero’s adventures in Italy and the foundation of the city of Alba Longa.⁵¹ He soon moves on to present the story of Romulus and Remus, to whom he pays considerably more attention. He then recounts the history of the first kings of Rome and the events that led to the abolition of the monarchy and the establishment of the Roman Republic. As the narrative goes on, the author focuses on Roman military campaigns, with great emphasis being given to the First and the Second Punic Wars, as well as the later wars against Macedonia and Carthage. Forced by his lack of access to the relevant books of Dio to skip the period from 146 bc (the destruction of Carthage and the battle of Corinth) to the Late Roman Republic, he continues by giving an account of the First and Second Triumvirate, and a comparatively long and detailed description of the reign of Augustus. From that point on, Zonaras records the key events that marked the reign of each Roman emperor.

As can be observed from this overview of the text’s Roman section, the structural organization of the narrative is chronological. The author closely follows Dio and builds his narration according to the chronological scheme of his principal source.⁵² When his exemplar refers to certain individuals or events, Zonaras embeds in his narrative information on these taken from the other sources he had at his disposal. Like Dio, Zonaras organizes his description of the early kings of Rome and the world of imperial Rome into units by reign. As a rule, material about ecclesiastical history—almost always drawn from Eusebios—is presented in separate sections, which are in most cases placed towards the end of the unit dedicated to an emperor. As he concludes his presentation of the age of Augustus, for example, Zonaras talks about the birth of Christ, which occurred during his reign.⁵³ Later on, he ends his narrative of the emperor Tiberius by recording the baptism of Christ.⁵⁴ Similarly, two paragraphs containing material from Eusebios are found at the very end of the section on Trajan’s rule.⁵⁵

Dio combines the chronological order of his material according to reigns with one according to consulships, but Zonaras shows little interest in following this division. The Roman historian is diligent in assigning the events he describes to the years of particular consuls,⁵⁶ while Zonaras follows this practice less systematically. We frequently see that he does not report under whose consulship a series of events took place, although the names of the consuls make their appearance in the corresponding sections of his source. Dio says, for instance, that the emperor Tiberius died during the consulships of Gnaeus Proculus and Pontius Nigrinus.⁵⁷ Passing over his source’s reference to the consuls, Zonaras states that the emperor fell ill and died on 20 March.⁵⁸ Having specified the date of Tiberius’ death, it appears the chronicler thought that information about the consuls was inessential and would add nothing to his narrative. For a twelfth-century author, the sequence of consular years was not as relevant as it was for a historian who lived in a period when the consular office was still a notable feature of government, rather than a palace honorific. Further, Zonaras’ contemporary readers would not have been able to understand when an event actually took place if it were registered simply within the chronological framework of consular years.

Unlike Xiphilinos, who remains faithful to the wording of his source, Zonaras does not usually transcribe Dio’s account word for word. He is inclined to heavily summarize, or omit altogether, numerous sections of Dio’s text. A meta-historical statement that clearly denotes this process of abridgement is his remark that certain events are not worthy of being recorded and, as a result, have no place in his historical work: ‘In the years following these, some events took place, but it is not at all necessary to regard them as worthy of being written down’ (‘Ἐν δὲ τοῖς μετὰ ταῦτα χρόνοις συνηνέχθησαν μέν τινα, οὐ μέντοι καὶ ἀναγκαῖα πάνυ ὥστε καὶ συγγραφῆς νομίζεσθαι ἄξια’).⁵⁹ A comparison between the Epitome and Dio’s text shows that Zonaras’ is a much more event-focused account than the Roman historian’s. As the chronicler indicates in the proem of the Epitome, his aim was to produce a succinct piece of writing and emphasize primarily the most significant historical events. Indeed, he focuses on the truly ‘historical’ data found in Dio and does not let this kind of information become clouded by other material that would prolong and complicate the narrative. This is the appropriate context in which one should view Zonaras’ systematic practice of excluding the bulk of philosophical material contained in Dio’s work from his text. The Roman historian fills his narrative with generic remarks about human life.⁶⁰ Most statements of this kind are omitted altogether by Zonaras. The majority of Dio’s fragments that have been preserved in the sacro-profane gnomology of Pseudo-Maximos Confessor cannot be found in the chronicle. Similarly, the author prefers to leave out passages that echo Dio’s political thinking.

The lengthy speeches attributed by the Roman historian to significant historical figures have no place in the Epitome either. The speeches of Antony and Augustus prior to the Battle of Actium, for instance, are conspicuously absent from the chronicle.⁶¹ Two speeches of Cicero that extend to several pages in U. Boissevain’s edition of Dio are each summarized by Zonaras in no more than six lines of printed text.⁶² The speeches of Fabricius directed at Pyrrhus, of Antony against the amnesty for Caesar’s assassins, and of Livia Drusilla addressed to Augustus are present but are also heavily abridged by the chronicler.⁶³ The omission and abbreviation of Dio’s speeches chimes neatly with the critical remarks attributed to Zonaras’ friends in the proem about historians who ‘compose their works to show off, displaying their capacity to write, and for this reason intersperse their writings with speeches’ (‘τοῖς δὲ καὶ πρὸς ἐπίδειξιν συντέθεινται τὰ συγγράμματα, ἐπιδεικνυμένοις ὅπως εἶχον περὶ τὸ γράφειν δυνάμεως’).⁶⁴ Through the persona of his friends, Zonaras expresses his own distaste for lengthy speeches.⁶⁵ A further reason that explains why the author chose to leave out or condense long speeches in his source has to do with the fact that he is writing a chronicle; long pieces of direct speech were not common in the literary tradition of chronicle writing, in contrast to the tradition of classicizing histories.

Just as he does with Dio’s work, Zonaras omits or heavily abbreviates various passages of Plutarch, his second major source for Roman history, trying nevertheless to retain essential data.⁶⁶ He swiftly passes over or leaves out of his text minor episodes that do not greatly affect the course of the narrative. It is evident that he does not have much taste for the poetical quotations that are scattered throughout the Lives. Indeed, he omits all quotations (aside from one attributed to Sophocles).⁶⁷ Importantly, a large bulk of the information that was entirely alien to the Byzantine tradition and had no significant relation to things still extant was considered to be of little interest. For this reason, material about Roman feasts, customs, institutions, and laws was casually left out of the narrative.⁶⁸ The writer does not speak, for instance, of Talassio, the traditional Roman acclamation for a bride, and the origin of the custom that we read in Pompey.⁶⁹ Neither does he give an account of the temples that adorned the city, such as the one devoted to Jupiter Capitolinus, which is described in Publicola.⁷⁰ It is interesting, by contrast, that he includes in his text pieces of information about the early Roman calendar found in the Numa, selecting those that explain the contemporary twelve-month calendar system.⁷¹

Plutarch’s work has a significant ethical dimension as well.⁷² He was very much concerned with character. Essentially a collection of portraits, the Lives illustrate the virtues and vices of well-known Greek and Roman individuals, aiming to present them as models to imitate or avoid. To some extent, Zonaras attempted to tailor Plutarch’s moral biographical accounts to his own interests. The reception of Numa is the finest example of the chronicler’s creative adaptation of a Plutarchean biography. Numa, the second king of Rome, who is characterized by Plutarch as a wise, just, pious, and peace-loving ruler, is seen by Zonaras as a paradigm of virtue that contemporary readers could potentially emulate. The chronicler does not simply reproduce Plutarch’s portrayal of Numa, but actively reconstructs it to offer us a more ‘Christianized’ version of the life of Rome’s early lawgiver. Indeed, it has been suggested that Plutarch might have had the influence he did in middle Byzantium because his moral stance coincided so far with that of Christianity.⁷³

It is apparent that certain omissions and alterations to Plutarch’s text serve to play down Numa’s pagan background. According to Plutarch, for instance, the young Numa would live in ‘sacred groves and holy meadows’ (‘ἐν ἄλσεσι θεῶν καὶ λειμῶσιν ἱεροῖς’), a statement that is changed slightly by Zonaras into ‘meadows and groves’ (‘ἐν λειμῶσι καὶ ἄλσεσι’).⁷⁴ The writer makes no mention of Numa’s celestial marriage to the nymph Egeria, from whom the king was believed to have received his wisdom.⁷⁵ Neither does he give an account of the religious institutions introduced by Numa. Following Plutarch, he adds that the king managed to soften the citizens of Rome and make their warlike attitude a more peaceful one, but understandably omits the means through which he achieved this, which included sacrifices, processions, and religious dances.⁷⁶ What must have made an impression on Zonaras, furthermore, were Numa’s ordinances against human-made idols of gods and blood sacrifices. Not only did the ruler prohibit the veneration of idols, but he also taught his subjects that the divine can only be approached spiritually. As we read in his Life, however, Numa’s religious attitude had its origins in the doctrines of the Greek philosopher Pythagoras. Indeed, there are many passages in Plutarch’s text that underline the significant impact of the Pythagorean ideas on Numa.⁷⁷ Naturally, the chronicler leaves out of his narrative all the pro-Pythagorean material found in his source text. Zonaras’ portrait gives an image of a ruler who was strongly opposed to pagan practices and urged his people to appeal to gods in some form of ‘prayer’. By adapting Plutarch’s portrayal of Numa, in other words, Zonaras paints a picture of a Roman king who, though still a pagan, essentially possessed the qualities of a good Christian.

A further issue to address concerns the author’s literary tactics when he recounts the period from Pompey’s rise to power in c.85 bc to the Battle of Actium in 31 bc.⁷⁸ In this part of the text, Zonaras employs several sources which partly overlap in content: Pompey, Caesar, Brutus, Antony, and Dio’s work. He subjects the material collected from his sources to a thoughtful process of selection and disposition, developing a simple literary technique: he changes his sources in order to change the focus of his narrative.

It would be helpful to take as an example Zonaras’ account of the First Triumvirate. Summarizing chapters 5 to 50 of Plutarch’s Pompey, the chronicler gives an account of Pompey’s political and military career. His use of Pompey comes to a stop when Zonaras reaches Pompey’s interactions with Caesar. The chronicler tells us that he will narrate the rest of Pompey’s story along with the story of Caesar, because it coincides with it.⁷⁹ Up to the account of the Battle of Pharsalus, Zonaras is based on a single source, Plutarch’s Caesar. For the decisive battle between the two political men, he combines information from both Lives. He consults chapters 43 to 46 of Caesar for the section about the omens that appeared to Caesar prior to the battle and about the battle itself. He then draws on chapters 73 and 74 of Pompey and focuses on the aftermath of the clash, describing Pompey’s flight to Egypt with his wife, Cornelia, and his assassination.

What Zonaras is trying to do is clear. He makes use of the Pompey at first, but when the text reaches the age of Caesar, he sets it aside, since its focus understandably rests mainly on Pompey’s status and activities during this period. Wishing to put Caesar centre stage, he naturally selects material from the Caesar, which gives a much fuller account of his achievements. The events that led to Caesar’s triumph at Pharsalus are narrated through the eyes of the victor. To explain what followed the crucial clash between the two, however, the chronicler returns to Pompey, which concentrates on what happened to Caesar’s rival. Using this material allows him to emphasize the unfortunate end of the Roman statesman and the events immediately following this.

Apparently satisfied with this technique, the chronicler does something similar in his account of the Second Triumvirate. For instance, both Dio’s text and Plutarch’s Antony provide Zonaras with information about the Battle of Actium. He consults the former when presenting the clash itself and the latter when focusing on its disastrous outcome for Antony. Faithful to Dio’s narrative, he tells his readers how Augustus regained his courage when Antony’s fleet was thrown into disarray by a storm, essentially guiding them to look at the battle from Augustus’ perspective.⁸⁰ Antony’s description in the aftermath of his humiliating defeat, including the scene in which he sat silently in the prow of his ship for three days, is taken from Plutarch and aims to focus the audience’s attention solely on the tragic figure of Augustus’ opponent.⁸¹

This literary tactic—changing the sources in order to shift the focus, and so the emphasis, of the narrative—is telling, for it presupposes some sort of advance preparation.⁸² The author has selected the appropriate passages allowing him to highlight certain scenes and episodes. This indicates that he had already studied the content of his sources. He must have also considered in some detail the range of material he would include in his own text, the places where he would insert the pieces taken from each source, and the manner in which he would combine them. During this process he might have even made use of notes in order to draw up a plan for collating the information.

The chronicler does not very often inform us about his principal authorities for Roman antiquities. Despite the fact that most of his material is taken from a single source, Zonaras does not acknowledge Dio more than ten times. This contrasts with what we observed in the Jewish section of the work, where the writer repeatedly refers to the JA, the text that provides the basic narrative structure. Plutarch is mentioned only three times. There are quite a few occasions when the chronicler cites Eusebios by name. In just as many instances, however, he does not identify the source that furnishes him with information on ecclesiastical history. One should also point that Zonaras often tries to make the transition from one source to another without using linking constructions. Material introduced from Publicola, Camillus, Brutus, and Antony, for instance, is effectively woven together within Dio’s narrative. The same can be observed of the manner in which Zonaras incorporates data from John of Antioch. This approach indicates that the author was making an effort to combine different material organically into a single composition. He attempted in a sense to make the text his own, without betraying the fact that he had pieced together information from disparate accounts.

3.3.2 Constantinian and Post-Constantinian Roman History: Books 13 to 18

The section of the Epitome dedicated to Byzantine history is slightly longer than that dealing with the Roman past; it fills about 760 printed pages. Zonaras’ narrative is composed of units of reigns. It is evident that the author places great emphasis on prominent emperors of the Byzantine period, such as Constantine the Great, Justinian, and Herakleios. He also gives a detailed account of the Isaurian and the Macedonian emperors. When the narrative reaches the eleventh and twelfth centuries, Zonaras elaborates on the events under Romanos Diogenes and Alexios I Komnenos, the last emperor he discusses in his work.

Although scholars have long attempted to identify the origin of Zonaras’ Constantinian and post-Constantinian material, the problem is complicated by the fact that many of the texts available to Zonaras are no longer extant.⁸³ As a supplement to his major source, the chronicle of John of Antioch, it is suggested that Zonaras took material from the works of Philostorgios, Socrates, and the emperor Julian, among others. He himself names the late fifth-century historian Malchos of Philadelphia and Prokopios, the famous historian of Justinian, as his sources.⁸⁴ Nevertheless, whether he drew on those directly or instead relied on an intermediary source remains unclear.⁸⁵ It has been shown, furthermore, that the Epitome shares some material with the Life of Silvester, a hagiographical text which was composed by Zonaras himself (as discussed in the first chapter).⁸⁶ For the age of Justinian, he must have had access to works which provided him with information about the Nika Revolt that is not known to us from other sources.⁸⁷ In terms of the presence of material from Malalas’ chronicle in the Epitome, it is debatable whether he had direct access to Malalas, or whether he derived information from his work through an intermediary source.⁸⁸ Zonaras also made use of Michael Psellos’ Historia Syntomos, which furnished him with quotes attributed to emperors, as well as with short items of information that cannot be found in any other known text, except for the Historia Syntomos.⁸⁹

The Chronographia of Theophanes Confessor is Zonaras’ principal authority for the period between the reigns of Herakleios (r. 610–641) and Michael I Rangabe (r. 811–813), although we can find traces of other works, too, such as the chronicle of Symeon Logothete and texts that follow the same tradition.⁹⁰ These sources are exploited in Zonaras’ account of the emperors of the Amorian and the Macedonian dynasty as well. However, the great portion of the text there is based primarily on the chronicle of John Skylitzes.⁹¹ When Skylitzes’ description comes to an end with the deposition of Michael VI Stratiotikos (r. 1056–1057), Zonaras moves on with his narrative by making heavy use of the text known in modern scholarship as Skylitzes Continuatus, penned most likely by Skylitzes himself,⁹² and the Chronography of Psellos.⁹³ The chronicler cites both Psellos and Skylitzes by name.⁹⁴

The relationship of the Epitome to the historical work of George Kedrenos, Zonaras’ immediate precursor in the field of chronicle writing, is open to conjecture. Kedrenos, who composed his work in the late eleventh or early twelfth century, draws heavily on sources also employed by Zonaras; he excerpts the historical narratives of Symeon the Logothete and George the Monk, and closely copies Skylitzes’ chronicle. Therefore, it it is hard to tell whether Zonaras used Kedrenos’ work in parallel to his other sources.⁹⁵ Notably, he includes in his narrative some memorable pieces of information that are not mentioned by other chroniclers prior to Kedrenos. Such information includes, for example, the Roman emperor Elagabalus’ attempt to surgically change his gender and the astronomer Valens’ prediction about the longevity of Constantinople, which is inserted into both Kedrenos’ and Zonaras’ texts in connection to the encaenia of the city in 330.⁹⁶ As I will discuss later, moreover, Zonaras seems to insert into his account of Leo III’s twelve wise advisers a detail from Kedrenos that is absent from both George the Monk and Symeon the Logothete.⁹⁷ Based on these examples, I believe that it is fairly possible that Zonaras had access to and occasionally consulted Kedrenos’ chronicle. In any case, Kedrenos and Zonaras exemplify two different approaches to the compilation, combination, and arrangement of source texts. Kedrenos adopts a minimally interventionist approach to his materials, favouring a very close, almost word-for-word, copying of the texts available to him; Zonaras, in contrast, prefers selecting materials and summarizing his sources, enriching the texts that form the spine of his narrative with information from additional sources, and making telling alterations to the wording of the works he uses. One cannot tell whether Zonaras’ organized presentation of his material, which required advance planning, was a ‘reaction’ specifically to the practice of Kedrenos, his immediate predecessor. Still, it reflects an effort on Zonaras’ part to employ a more sophisticated working method than that of several earlier historians who were known to him and copied their sources very faithfully, such as Xiphilinos.

The section of the Epitome that concerns the age of Alexios Komnenos is the only one original to the writer. As a high-ranking officer in the judicial system during the Komnenian regime, Zonaras essentially bases his account on his own recollections, impressions, and knowledge of the imperial environment. A subject that has been the cause of considerable debate among scholars is the relationship between Zonaras’ narrative of Alexios and Anna Komnene’s Alexiad, her biography of her father. It is not entirely clear whether either of the two writers was aware and made use of the other’s work. In the secondary literature, the Alexiad is sometimes listed as one of the chronicler’s sources.⁹⁸ Anna certainly began writing his work at least in or after 1138, the year of the death of her husband, the caesar Nikephoros Bryennios.⁹⁹ She herself reveals that she collected much information for her work during the reign of Manuel Komnenos and points out that she was still writing in 1148.¹⁰⁰ As I suggested in the first chapter, Zonaras must have completed the Epitome between 1143 and c.1150.¹⁰¹ If this is true, it means that the two historical accounts are almost contemporaneous, and that either or both authors could well have acquired an early draft of the other’s work. As has been convincingly argued, nevertheless, there exist significant chronological discrepancies between the two texts, as well as some divergences in the recording of events.¹⁰² Therefore, I tend to agree with the suggestion that Zonaras did not exploit the Alexiad, although he might have read it.¹⁰³

In his treatment of Theophanes, Zonaras shows himself to be in step with a major literary development noted from the mid-ninth century onwards, the rejection of the rigid chronological system adopted by earlier writers of historical accounts.¹⁰⁴ Theophanes would generally organize his material according to anni mundi and indictions, also mentioning the regnal year of a Roman emperor, as well as the bishops of Rome, Constantinople, Alexandria, and Antioch.¹⁰⁵ Departing from the strict chronological scheme of his source, Zonaras gives dates only sporadically and weaves them into his narrative. He compresses and paraphrases Theophanes’ account by collating distant pieces of information found in different parts of the account. The most substantial part of the material that he uses relates to important political and military developments, as well as significant events in Church history. Unlike his source, he does not show much interest in delineating the broader contemporary context within which Byzantine affairs can be set, supplying very little on events in faraway places, such as in the Persian and the Arab worlds. He tells us nothing, for instance, about the affairs of the Arabs in the later reign of Herakleios, a subject on which Theophanes lays great emphasis.¹⁰⁶ In this way, he places the events that took place in Constantinople at the centre of his narrative. Similarly, he often ignores physical phenomena and natural disasters, even if these underline a point made by his source. For example, he does not report the volcanic eruption on the island of Thera, presented by Theophanes as divine retribution for Leo III’s policy of iconoclasm.¹⁰⁷

The history of Skylitzes forms the main spine of Zonaras’ narrative until the deposition of Michael VI Stratiotikos in 1057. In general, Zonaras remains very close to the sequence of events in his source; every important episode in Skylitzes appears in the appropriate order in the Epitome, too, albeit more briefly described. Nevertheless, one can note several divergences in the positioning of the material between the two texts. A striking example is how the two authors insert in their narratives the stories that circulated about Basil I’s life prior to his accession to the throne. Following his presentation of Michael III’s assassination and the Macedonian’s rise to the imperial office, Skylitzes tells us about the numerous incidents that foreshadowed Basil’s regal destiny from his infancy.¹⁰⁸ Perhaps considering it more efficient, Zonaras incorporates this material at an earlier point, just before his description of Basil’s affinity with Michael and gradual rise to power.¹⁰⁹ To provide an additional example, the author initially omits the episode about Basil’s visit to Patras and his acquaintance with the famous widow Danielis much later than his source.¹¹⁰ Reaching the point when Skylitzes relates Danielis’ arrival at Constantinople to meet the newly crowned emperor Basil, Zonaras has to include information he had previously left out, but is now necessary to the understanding of his account.

It is worth exploring more closely Zonaras’ account of the regime of Romanos I Lekapenos (r. 920–944). By making several additions to Skylitzes’ text, the chronicler repeatedly attempts to impress on his audience that the tragic fate of the emperor and his sons should be interpreted as divine retribution for the offence they committed—casting aside Constantine Porphyrogennetos, the rightful heir to the Byzantine throne. At first, Zonaras tells us that Romanos put his firstborn son, Christopher, ahead of Constantine in the line of succession and adds his own opinion about that: ‘so, it was as if the genuine emperor and the one to whom rulership belonged by inheritance was illegitimate. But retribution did not neglect these things’ (‘ἦν οὖν ὁ αὐθιγενὴς βασιλεὺς καὶ ᾧ κατὰ κλῆρον ἡ βασιλεία διέφερεν ὥσπερ παρέγγραπτος. ἀλλ’ ἐπὶ τούτοις ἡ δίκη οὐκ ἐπενύσταξεν’).¹¹¹ A while later, when he is about to narrate what happened to the Lekapenos family once Constantine had risen to power, the writer reiterates his belief, more strongly this time, that divine retribution falls on those who are unjust. In Zonaras’ own words: ‘now the narrative comes to add the following as well and show that, albeit rather slowly perhaps, providence pursues those who do wrong, prolonging for them the time of repentance, but if they do not keep away from evil, providence pursues them slowly and exacts the punishment’ (‘ἥκει δὲ νῦν ὁ λόγος προσθήσων καὶ τὰ ἑξῆς καὶ δείξων ὡς κἂν βραδύτερον ἴσως μέτεισι τοὺς ἀδικοῦντας ἡ πρόνοια, μετανοίας αὐτοῖς ἐπιμετροῦσα καιρόν, ἀλλά γε τοῦ κακοῦ μὴ ἀπεχομένους μέτεισι σχολαίῳ ποδὶ καὶ δίκας εἰσπράττεται’).¹¹² To conclude his report of Romanos and his sons, Zonaras claims that ‘in this manner retribution came after each one of them’ (‘καὶ οὕτω τούτων ἕκαστον ἡ δίκη μετῆλθεν’).¹¹³ Comments of a similar kind do not appear in the corresponding sections of the Synopsis. As is clear, the author adapts the material he receives from Skylitzes to further his own moralizing agenda and give the story of Romanos an edifying character for the benefit of his readers.

An additional consideration about the portion of Zonaras’ text that is based on the Synopsis and Skylitzes Continuatus is that the narrative is interspersed with short comments about the attitudes of famous historical figures. The writer draws on the portrayals of individuals which are embedded in his source texts. Just as Skylitzes does, Zonaras presents his readers with a portrait of Constantine Porphyrogennetos that emphasizes both the virtues and the flaws of the emperor.¹¹⁴ For the description of Constantine Monomachos, he collects material from both the Synopsis and Skylitzes Continuatus,¹¹⁵ while his assessment of Isaac Komnenos, in a few lines at the end of the part dedicated to his reign, is taken directly from Skylitzes Continuatus.¹¹⁶ The same applies to the ambivalent picture he paints for Constantine Doukas shortly afterwards.¹¹⁷

Despite the Epitome’s strong dependence on these two works, Zonaras occasionally gives precedence to Psellos’ Chronography. To provide a notable example, a long passage which runs parallel to Psellos’ text has to do with the last years of the reign of Michael IV Paphlagonian (r. 1034–1041) and the events that followed the accession of Michael V Kalaphates (r. 1041–1042) to the throne, the expulsion of the empress Zoe to Prinkipos and the subsequent popular uprising included.¹¹⁸ Having access to two sources that overlap each another, Zonaras weaves his material together into a composite narrative, in a manner resembling his use of information taken from Dio and Plutarch. Once again, this process of selection and combination must have required some preparation and prior thought on the part of the writer.

Seemingly very pleased with the comprehensive and detailed portraits of Psellos, he derives from the Chronography a large supply of biographical information.¹¹⁹ Following his source text, he gives us a portrayal of Basil II the Macedonian (r. 1076–1025), illustrating how his attitude changed over time.¹²⁰ To discuss Basil’s character in the later years of his reign, he combines information from two distinct extracts of Psellos, showing Zonaras’ own attempt to provide his readers with a coherent description of the emperor. The Chronography also furnishes the chronicler with the depictions of the emperor Constantine VIII (r. 1025–1028) and Michael Kalaphates.¹²¹

An immediate implication of the author’s extensive use of Skylitzes’ Synopsis, Skylitzes Continuatus, and Psellos’ Chronography is that there is an obvious change in the character of the narrative: personalities start to emerge more vividly than they do in the earlier parts of Zonaras’ work. Of course, this is dictated to a great extent by the nature of these sources. As previous scholarship has shown, historiographical texts produced in Constantinople from the mid-tenth century onwards display features of historical biographies.¹²² Among eleventh-century writers, Skylitzes—and particularly Psellos—exemplify this trend towards an anthropocentric conception of history-writing.

It should be stressed, however, that the shift towards a more personality-focused narrative in Zonaras’ presentation of Byzantium did not emerge solely as a result of the typology of his source material. The chronicler himself appears to have been very fond of the biographical style of writing that had prevailed in the genre of historiography up to that point, and wished to follow the literary conventions laid down by his predecessors. He therefore strives to give his readers a full picture of the character of a Byzantine individual, despite the abridgement of his source texts. Several remarks indicate that although he condenses his source material, he does not wish to achieve brevity at the expense of building up comprehensive pictures of Byzantine emperors. Conveying a negative image of Michael II the Stammerer (r. 820–829), for instance, he explains that ‘a few of the many features of his wickedness and even his folly were written’ (‘ἐκ πολλῶν ὀλίγα τῆς ἐκείνου κακίας ἢ καὶ ἀνοίας γνωρίσματα ξυγγεγράφαται’).¹²³ Later, he summarizes the turpitudes of Michael III ‘the Drunkard’ (r. 842–867) and concludes his account of the emperor with the following conspicuous sentence: ‘But to narrate everything done by this coterie, in which the emperor himself happened to participate, would be a lot of chit-chat and something disgusting no less’ (‘ἀλλ’ ἅπαντα καταλέγειν τὰ τοῦ τοιούτου χοροῦ, οἷς συνθιασώτης καὶ αὐτὸς ὁ βασιλεὺς ἐτύγχανεν ὤν, πολλῆς ἂν εἴη λέσχης καὶ ἀηδίας οὐχ ἥκιστα’).¹²⁴ It is apparent that although he condensed his sources, Zonaras sought to provide his readers with sufficient information to assess the character of an emperor.

Evidence of Zonaras’ interest in the biographies of Byzantine individuals is also provided by the additions he occasionally makes to his sources in order to elaborate on the story of a well-known historical figure. His account of the hymnographer Kassia is a case in point.¹²⁵ In the part of his text dedicated to the emperor Theophilos (r. 829–842), Skylitzes makes no mention of the poetess at all. Zonaras departs from the narrative of his source to relate the famous episode of the verbal exchange between Theophilos and Kassia that led the ruler to choose Theodora over her as his bride.¹²⁶ He calls attention to Kassia’s lineage, appearance, and learning, carefully sketching an encomiastic portrait of the woman. She is said to have been beautiful, adept with words, and of a distinguished extraction. I quote in full what he adds after that:

[…] and withdrawing herself, she was living with herself and God, without disregarding her intellectual education. For this reason, one does not find her writings lacking educational virtues. This is how she handled her own affairs, and when she failed to secure the hand of a mortal king, she was betrothed to the king of all things and was allotted the heavenly, rather than the earthly, kingdom.

[…] καὶ ἐν αὐτῇ μονάσασα ἑαυτῇ ἔζη καὶ τῷ θεῷ, τῆς λογικῆς παιδείας μὴ ἀλογήσασα. ὅθεν καὶ συγγράμματα ἐκείνης εὑρίσκονται εὐπαιδευσίας χαρίτων οὐκ ἄμοιρα. καὶ ἡ μὲν οὕτω διέθετο τὰ καθ’ ἑαυτὴν καὶ ἀτευκτήσασα βασιλέως φθαρτοῦ τῷ παμβασιλεῖ ἑαυτὴν ἐμνηστεύσατο καὶ ἀντὶ γεηρᾶς βασιλείας τὴν ἐπουράνιον ἐκληρώσατο.

The writer paints an idealized picture of Kassia, accentuating her intellectual capacities. When she took the monastic vows, she did not devote herself solely to her spiritual labour as a nun, but took pains to pursue her education as well. She was an active scholar, composing a series of works in which Zonaras discerns an upright character. This description might sound strangely familiar to a reader of Zonaras; in fact, behind Kassia’s portrayal one could discern the image of the chronicler himself. He, too, was learned, and despite having withdrawn to a monastery, did not abandon his scholarly preoccupations, producing numerous works. Zonaras evidently tailors Kassia’s portrayal to suit his own image. His audience would probably be able to grasp this self-referential allusion. Zonaras was not the only author to have drawn analogies between his own personality and that of one of his heroes. The portrayal of Kassia mirrors similar practices in hagiographical texts, with Psellos’ adaptation of the image of St Auxentios to that of his own in the Life of St Auxentios the most prominent example.¹²⁷

Above all, it is the distinctively personality-centred manner in which he presents the reign of Alexios Komnenos that is most revealing of Zonaras’ engagement with the biographies and characters of renowned Byzantine figures. The fact that he does not depend on an external source here allows him great freedom in handling his material. It is indicative of the chronicler’s authorial preferences that in a part of the Epitome where he is not affected by the nature, style, and agenda of a source he opts to pay special attention to the attributes and defects of the emperor under consideration. For the founder of the Komnenian dynasty, the author composes one of the most extensive and detailed portraits in his narrative. He draws an ambivalent picture of Alexios, telling us of his virtues as a private citizen, but also highlighting his shortcomings as a ruler. As a private man, he is praised for being of a moderate temper, and for being lenient and approachable, among other things.¹²⁸ At the same time, he is severely criticized as an emperor, because he spent excessive amounts of money; he did not preserve the old customs of the Roman polity; he did not treat the state fisc as public, but rather as his own property; he did not offer members of the senatorial class honours appropriate to their rank; and finally he distributed privileges and a great amount of wealth to his relatives and servants.¹²⁹ Indeed, the presentation of Alexios as an emperor is a ‘blatant psogos’.¹³⁰ The next chapter of the book discusses at length the comprehensive portrayal of the Komnenian ruler.¹³¹

In this connection, one can note that Zonaras was not equally interested in the portrayals of Roman and Byzantine individuals. Dio’s Roman History and Plutarch’s Lives were rich sources of biographical material. Zonaras, however, either condenses or omits altogether portraits of Roman individuals found in his sources. Compared to Dio’s text, for instance, the Epitome gives a briefer presentation of the Roman statesmen Scipio Africanus and Agrippa.¹³² The depiction of the emperor Tiberius is also very much abridged.¹³³ The author opts to leave out of his narrative Dio’s portrayal of Hannibal and the paragraph in which the Roman historian gives his assessment of Antony and Cleopatra.¹³⁴ Likewise, drawing on Plutarch, the chronicler gives more succinct descriptions of the personalities of famous Roman figures than those he finds in his source. In other words, he is disinclined to select Roman material to suit contemporary tastes for a personality-focused style of writing. A plausible explanation for this might have to do with the expectations of his readers: Zonaras must have been aware that he was addressing an audience which was familiar with, and perhaps anticipated, the presence of biographical material about Byzantine individuals in historical texts. His readers were accustomed to finding vivid images of Byzantine emperors in historical works, such as those of Theophanes Continuatus, Psellos, Skylitzes, Michael Attaleiates, Nikephoros Bryennios, and Anna Komnene. There, they would read of emperors’ virtues, flaws, and whims. Stories and anecdotes, too, circulated about them.¹³⁵ Encomiastic poems were also a likely medium through which a contemporary audience could learn of an emperor’s appearance, among other things.¹³⁶ In a sense, memories of Byzantine emperors were still very much alive in Zonaras’ time. Unlike Byzantine rulers, though, figures of Republican Rome and the Principate belonged to the distant past, the days of antiquity, and were probably not of equal interest to the twelfth-century audience.

At this point, it is relevant to add that the chronicler maintains a largely secular focus in his presentation of Byzantine history. Building his narrative around emperors and reigns, he pays much more attention to secular than religious matters. This is not to say, of course, that he does not address issues relating to the Church. He does, but the portion of the text devoted to ecclesiastical affairs is considerably smaller than that dedicated to imperial history. Zonaras does not really deliver on the ‘promise’ he gives to his readers in the proem of the Epitome to concentrate on the lives of both the emperors and patriarchs of Constantinople, as well as on the councils of the Church.¹³⁷ The fact that he places less emphasis on Church matters than on secular ones is manifested by the type of source material he selected for his account of Byzantium, historical narratives that dealt largely with imperial history (Historia Syntomos, Skylitzes’ Synopsis, Skylitzes Continuatus, and Psellos’ Chronography). The secular bias is also clear in the last part of the chronicle, which deals with the reign of Alexios Komnenos, where Zonaras does not depend on an external source. The author is interested primarily in the emperor’s personality, as well as his internal and external policy, discussing in only a few lines the patriarchs of the time.¹³⁸ Why, then, does he give the impression in his proem that he will focus equal attention on secular and ecclesiastical affairs? As a good ‘publicist’ of his own work, Zonaras wished to attract readers who had a keen interest in the history of the Church. Chapter 6 will show that he aimed to address his chronicle, among others, to cultivated ecclesiastical men.¹³⁹ This audience might have had a particular preference for the religious material contained in the Epitome. Indeed, the last chapter will provide examples of later readers who were monks and members of the clergy, and who made use of the chronicle to gather information on the history of the Church in particular.¹⁴⁰

To reach some overarching conclusions, this chapter has shown that Zonaras sought to produce a compact historical account, one which related only notable historical events of early Christian and Roman history, and which would be beneficial to his audience. The foundation of the chronicler’s methodology is the adherence to a single source, which provides him with the basic structure of his account. Zonaras employs the rest of his readings to supplement his principal sources. As an epitomizer, he was concerned with creating a concise account, but at the same time preserving the essential data found in his sources. The manner in which the writer modified his sources, the degree to which he condensed each one of them, and the type of material he selected or omitted varied a great deal. There are indications that he would prepare in advance for the selection, arrangement, and presentation of his material so as to emphasize a particular episode or historical figure, or to avoid overlapping information. What characterizes his method, particularly in his presentation of pre-Constantinian Roman history, is his attempt to adapt the data he collects from his Roman sources—Dio and Plutarch—to make them meaningful and interesting to his Byzantine audience. In the narrative of Byzantium, the dominant principle of Zonaras’ methodology is the close attention to the portrayals of famous historical figures, mostly emperors.

John Zonaras’ Epitome of Histories: A Compendium of Jewish-Roman History and Its Reception. Theofili Kampianaki, Oxford University Press. © Theofili Kampianaki 2022. DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780192865106.003.0004

¹ Grigoriadis, ‘Prooimion’.

² Matheou, ‘City and Sovereignty’, 44–6.

³ For the progymnasmata, see G. Kennedy, Progymnasmata: Greek Textbooks of Prose Composition Introductory to the Study of Rhetoric (Atlanta, 2003); R. Webb, ‘The Progymnasmata as Practice’, in Education in Greek and Roman Antiquity, ed. by Y. Too (Leiden, 2001), 289–316.

⁴ Nicholas of Myra, Nicolai progymnasmata, ed. by J. Felten (Leipzig, 1913), 4.10–11. For information on Nicholas, see A. Kazhdan, ‘Nicholas of Myra’, ODB, II, 1470.

⁵ Epitome, Ι, 3.1–2.

⁶ Ibid., 4.1–6.

⁷ Ibid., 4.7–11, 7.1–3. Another reason why Zonaras made the decision to compose his chronicle was the spiritual benefit he would derive from his accomplishment. About this, however, he says little. He simply explains that, engrossed in writing, he would be spared temptation and not yield to sinful action: Ibid., 7.18–8.5.

⁸ See Grigoriadis, ‘Prooimion’, 340–2. This motif was used by many Byzantine chroniclers and historians. It was exploited, for example, by Theophanes Confessor, who says that the impetus to write his chronicle came from the abbot of his monastery, George Synkellos: Theophanes, Chronographia, I, 4.1–8. Michael Psellos also claims that he was prompted to compose his Chronography by a group of high-ranking court officials and churchmen. The Chronography lacks a proem. Psellos’ statement appears in his narrative of the reign of Constantine IX Monomachos: Psellos, Chronography, 116.1–4 (Book 6, chapter 22).

⁹ See Epitome, I, 4.7–9. Cf. Rhalles and Potles, Σύνταγμα, II, 1; Zonaras, ‘Υπόμνημα εἰς τὸν Σωφρόνιον, 560.20–1 (chapter 3).

¹⁰ In the proem of both the Epitome and the commentary on Sophronios, Zonaras stresses that he did not come up with the idea of composing these texts himself and that he was requested to do so by a third party. The verb ‘ὁρμῶ’ makes its appearance in both cases.

¹¹ For this passage, see Epitome, I, 4.11–6.21. The fact that Zonaras expresses his views through the speech of his friends is something that provoked Wilhelm Schmidt’s mockery in the 1830s, but was praised as ‘innovative’ by Grigoriadis more than 150 years later: Schmidt, ‘Quellen’, iv; Grigoriadis, ‘Prooimion’, 341.

¹² Epitome, I, 6.11–12.

¹³ Ibid., 6.20.

¹⁴ Ibid., 7.2–8.

¹⁵ See pp. 103–4 of this book.

¹⁶ Bernard, Poetry, 238–40.

¹⁷ Ibid., 239.

¹⁸ Epitome, I, 8.9–14.

¹⁹ Ibid., 8.14–23.

²⁰ Ibid., 8.23–9.7.

²¹ Ibid., 15.16–16.11.

²² Ibid., 21.4–11.

²³ Schmidt, ‘Quellen’.

²⁴ Büttner-Wobst, ‘Abhängigkeit’.

²⁵ See p. 11 (footnote 33) of this book.

²⁶ The secondary literature on Josephus is abundant. Some relatively recent publications are the following: A Companion to Josephus, ed. by Chapman and Rodgers; Flavius Josephus: Interpretation and History, ed. by J. Pastor, P. Stern, and M. Mor (Leiden, 2011); Josephus and the Flavian Rome, ed. by J. Edmondson and S. Mason (Oxford, 2005); Josephus, the Bible, ed. by Feldman and Hata.

²⁷ A short discussion of the features of this epitome and the reasons why it must have been a useful source to Zonaras is found in: Kampianaki, ‘Preliminary Observations’, 212–16.

²⁸ Bowman, ‘Josephus in Byzantium’, 371.

²⁹ Epitome, I, 17.1–12.

³⁰ It should be noted that an epitome of the JW is not known to us nowadays, although this does not mean that such a text never existed. For a general introduction on the JW, see S. Mason, ‘Josephus’ Judean War’, in A Companion to Josephus, ed. by Chapman and Rodgers, 13–35; The Jewish War, trans. into English by G. A. Williamson, rev. ed. with a new introduction by M. Smallwood (Harmondsworth, 1989), 9–24.

³¹ Epitome, I, 28.18–9. Cf. Josephus, JA, I, 24 (Book 1, chapter 105).

³² Epitome, I, 485.21–486.12. Cf. Josephus, JA, IV, 161–2 (Book 18, chapters 117–19).

³³ Josephus heavily exploited the Hebrew biblical text and had also access to Greek translations of the Bible: P. Spilsbury, ‘Josephus and the Bible’, in A Companion to Josephus, ed. by Chapman and Rodgers, 123–34, at 128; T. Rajak, Translation and Survival: The Greek Bible of the Ancient Jewish Diaspora (Oxford, 2009), 252; E. Ulrich, ‘Josephus’ Biblical Texts for the Books of Samuel’, in Josephus, the Bible, ed. by Feldman and Hata, 81–96.

³⁴ For example, see Epitome, I, 21.2, 42.16, 55.14–5, 59.18, 69.19–20, 70.6–7, 75.12 and 75.20–1, 150.23 and 194.8–9.

³⁵ The Jubilees was originally written in Hebrew and was later translated into Greek, Latin, Ethiopic, and perhaps Syriac. Only brief excerpts of the Greek translation survive; they can be found mainly in the compositions of the fourth-century Epiphanius of Salamis and those of the Byzantine chroniclers George the Synkellos, George Kedrenos, and Michael Glykas. The citations found in these works have been used by James VanderKam for his edition of the Ethiopic Jubilees: see The Book of Jubilees, I, ix, xi–xii; II, xi–xiv.

³⁶ Epitome, I, 18.8–10. For the ambivalent attitude of Byzantine chroniclers towards the Jubilees, see E. Jeffreys, ‘Old Testament “History” and the Byzantine Chronicle’, in The Old Testament, ed. by Magdalino and Nelson, 153–74, at 156–7, 163; The Chronography of George Synkellos, liv–lv, lxi–lxii.

³⁷ See The Chronography of George Synkellos, liv–lv (footnote 119), lxi. For some examples that reflect Josephus’ use of the Jubilees, see J. Kugel, A Walk Through Jubilees: Studies in the Book of Jubilees and the World of Its Creation (Leiden, 2012), 42, 98, 191–3; T. Franxman, Genesis and the Jewish Antiquities of Flavius Josephus (Rome, 1979), 79, 98, 101–2, 108, 115, 283.

³⁸ Epitome, I, 53.8. Cf. Josephus, JA, Ι, 129 (Book 2, chapter 224) and The Book of Jubilees, II, 47.5.

³⁹ Epitome, I, 146.16–147.5.

⁴⁰ Ibid., 42.15–6, 55.15.

⁴¹ Ibid., 21.19–20. For other examples, see Ibid., 59.18–21, cf. Exodus 15.23; Epitome, 69.18–19, cf. Numbers 17.23. A close comparison such as this can also be seen in Zonaras’ treatment of Xenophon and Herodotus. According to Zonaras, the former states that Cambyses’ brother was named Tanaoxares, while the latter was called Smerdis: Epitome, I, 305.9–10.

⁴² R. Scott, ‘Text and Context in Byzantine Historiography’, in A Companion to Byzantium, ed. by James, 251–63, at 252.

⁴³ Epitome, I, 247.1–260.15.

⁴⁴ Ibid., 329.9–12: ‘Now that the account of history made mention of Alexander, it is good to narrate in brief his deeds and dispositions, and from which place and from whom he was born, and then once again to bring back the account to its continuation’ (‘Ἐπεὶ δὲ μνείαν τοῦ Ἀλεξάνδρου ὁ τῆς ἱστορίας λόγος πεποίηται, καλὸν καὶ τούτου τὰς πράξεις τε καὶ τὰ ἤθη καὶ ὅθεν κἀκ τίνων ἔφυ κατ’ ἐπιδρομὴν διηγήσασθαι, καὶ οὕτως αὖθις ἐπαναγαγεῖν τὸν λόγον πρὸς τὴν συνέχειαν’).

⁴⁵ Ibid., 260.16–261.3.

⁴⁶ Ibid., 303.12–13.

⁴⁷ A very helpful introduction to Dio and his work can be found in Swan, The Augustan Succession, 1–38. For a comprehensive study of the special features of Dio’s narrative, see A. Kemezis, Greek Narratives of the Roman Empire Under the Severans: Cassius Dio, Philostratus and Herodian (Cambridge, 2014), 90–149.

⁴⁸ Büttner-Wobst, ‘Abhängigkeit’, 155–9; Schmidt, ‘Quellen’, xlii.

⁴⁹ Banchich and Lane, The History of Zonaras, 76–7; U. Boissevain, ‘Zonaras’ Quelle für die Römische Kaisergeschichte von Nerva bis Severus Alexander’, Hermes, 26 (1891), 440–52; Büttner-Wobst, ‘Abhängigkeit’, 163–8.

⁵⁰ The sources used by Zonaras after Dio have been the cause of much debate among early and recent commentators on the Epitome. The fragments of Dio’s Anonymous Continuator have been edited by K. Müller in the Fragmenta Historicorum Graecorum, IV (Paris, 1868), 191–9. For Zonaras’ relation to Dio’s Continuator, see Patzig, ‘Zonaras I’; Büttner-Wobst, ‘Abhängigkeit’, 168; Schmidt, ‘Quellen’, l–lii. Carl de Boor identified Dio’s Anonymous Continuator with Peter the Patrician, although modern scholars have expressed serious doubts about this identification: see C. de Boor, ‘Römische Kaisergeschichte in byzantinischer Fassung, I. Der Anonymous post Dionem’, BZ, 1 (1892), 21–31; Cameron, The Last Pagans, 659; M. R. Cataudella, ‘Historiography in the East’, in Greek and Roman Historiography in Late Antiquity, ed. by G. Marasco (Leiden, 2003), 391–447, at 437–40; D. Potter, Prophecy and History in the Crisis of the Roman Empire: A Historical Commentary on the Thirteenth Sibylline Oracle (Oxford, 1990), 395–7. Two editions containing fragments attributed to John of Antioch have come out in the last few years: John of Antioch, Ioannis Antiocheni fragmenta quae supersunt omnia, ed. by S. Mariev (Berlin, 2008), which excludes the majority of the so-called Salmasian fragments, and John of Antioch, Ioannis Antiocheni fragmenta ex historia chronica, ed. by U. Roberto (Berlin, 2005). For a discussion of the methodology followed by the two editors, see P. Van Nuffelen, ‘John of Antioch, Inflated and Deflated. Or: How (not) to Collect Fragments of Early Byzantine Historians’, Byz, 82 (2013), 437–50. For Zonaras’ use of John of Antioch, see M. Dimaio, ‘The Antiochene Connection: Zonaras, Ammianus Marcellinus, and John of Antioch on the Reigns of the Emperors Constantius II and Julian’, Byz, 50 (1980), 158–85; E. Patzig, ‘Die römischen Quellen des salmasischen Johannes Antiochenus’, BZ, 13 (1904), 13–50. See also Treadgold, Historians, 394–5.

⁵¹ Jeffreys, ‘Attitudes’, 234.

⁵² For Zonaras’ treatment of Cassius Dio, see B. Bleckmann, Die römische Nobilität im Ersten Punischen Krieg: Untersuchungen zur aristokratischen Konkurrenz in der Republik (Berlin, 2002), 35. See also Fromentin, ‘Zonaras abréviateur’; Urso, ‘The Origin’; Simons, Cassius Dio; Swan, The Augustan Succession.

⁵³ Epitome, II, 431.12–432.21.

⁵⁴ Ibid., 445.15–446.16.

⁵⁵ Ibid., 513.5–514.22.

⁵⁶ Millar, Study, 39–40.

⁵⁷ Dio, History, II, 613–14 (Book 58.26–27).

⁵⁸ Epitome, II, 444.12 and 445.3. It should be noted that, most likely out of haste, the chronicler does not copy the date he found in his source correctly. According to Dio, Tiberius died on 26 March.

⁵⁹ Epitome, II, 268.13–4. See also a similar statement in Epitome, II, 161.3–4: ‘After that, there came several consuls, but they did not achieve anything worthy of being related’ (‘Ἔκτοτε δὲ διάφοροι μὲν ὑπάτευσαν, οὐδὲν δὲ ἰστορίας ἔπραξαν ἄξιον’).

⁶⁰ For example, see Dio, History, I, 11–12 (fragments 5.12–3), 33 (fragments 12.2–3), 52 (fragment 18.2), 96 (fragment 36.4), 313–14 (fragments 70.2–3).

⁶¹ Dio, History, II, 336–46 (Book 50.16–30); cf. Epitome, II, 395.5–399.2, in which the author discusses the battle.

⁶² Dio, History, II, 118–25 (Book 44.23–33) and Epitome, II, 336.20–337.7; Dio, History, II, 154–72 (Book 45.18–47) and Epitome, II, 343.1–7.

⁶³ See, respectively, Dio, History, I, 129–31 (fragments 40.34–8) and Epitome, II, 117.1–11; Dio, History, II, 127–37 (Book 44.36–49) and Epitome, II, 337.22–338.17; Dio, History, II, 501–7 (Book 55.16–21) and Epitome, II, 424.14–22.

⁶⁴ Epitome, I, 4.19–20.

⁶⁵ A similar observation can be made about Xiphilinos, who also left out of his own Epitome many of Dio’s long speeches: Mallan, ‘Style’, 618–21.

⁶⁶ I have examined at length Zonaras’ use of the Plutarchean Lives in my article ‘Plutarch’s Lives in the Byzantine Chronographic Tradition: The Chronicle of John Zonaras’, BMGS, 41 (2017), 15–29. For the reception of Plutarch in Byzantium, see Humble, ‘Plutarch in Byzantium’; M. Pade, ‘The Reception of Plutarch from Antiquity to the Italian Renaissance’, in A Companion to Plutarch, ed. by M. Beck (Chichester, 2014), 531–43, particularly at 535–6; Garzya, ‘Plutarco a Bisanzio’. I am grateful to Professor Noreen Humble for allowing me to read her study of Plutarch in Byzantium prior to its publication.

⁶⁷ The following quotations, for example, are left out of the chronicle: Plutarch, Romulus, 57.17–26, 63.30–64.12, 73.25–74.4; Plutarch, Numa, 61.6, 67.20–2; Plutarch, Publicola, 141.16–142.2; Plutarch, Pompey, 275.6–8. The quotation from Sophocles is found in Epitome, II, 326.8–9.

⁶⁸ For example, see Plutarch, Romulus, 21–2; Plutarch, Numa, 64.23–66.10, 69.22–77.6; Plutarch, Publicola, 136.5–138.9; Plutarch, Camillus, ed. by K. Ziegler in, Plutarchi vitae parallelae, vol. 1.1 (Leipzig, 1957), 216.21–218.23, 234.14–236.14.

⁶⁹ Plutarch, Pompey, 279.15–280.9.

⁷⁰ Plutarch, Publicola, 141.5–142.2.

⁷¹ Plutarch, Numa, 85.17–86.18.

⁷² The most important monograph on the moralizing character and educational value of the Plutarchean Lives remains that of T. Duff, Plutarch’s Lives: Exploring Virtue and Vice (Oxford, 2002), particularly at 13–98. See, more recently, Stadter, Roman Readers.

⁷³ This is emphatically stated, for instance, in an epigram of the eleventh-century scholar John Mauropous dedicated to Plato and Plutarch. There, Mauropous pleads with God to spare the two because, despite not being Christians, in words and manners they conformed to His ordinances: John Mauropous, Ἐπίγραμμα εἰς τὸν Πλάτωνα καὶ τὸν Πλούταρχον, in The Poems of Christopher of Mytilene and John Mauropous, ed. and trans. into English by F. Bernard and C. Livanos (Cambridge; MA and London, 2018), 404 (epigram 43). See also Humble, ‘Plutarch in Byzantium’; Garzya, ‘Plutarco a Bisanzio’, 24–5.

⁷⁴ Plutarch, Numa, 59.22–3; Epitome, II, 19.22.

⁷⁵ Plutarch, Numa, 59.24–60.6.

⁷⁶ Epitome, II, 20.21–2. Cf. Plutarch, Numa, 66.11–67.6.

⁷⁷ For the theme of Pythagorean philosophy in the Numa, see Stadter, Roman Readers, 246–57.

⁷⁸ Epitome, I, 298.8–399.2.

⁷⁹ Epitome, II, 314.6–8.

⁸⁰ Epitome, II, 398.4–6. Cf. Dio, History, II, 346–7 (Book 50.31).

⁸¹ Epitome, II, 398.11–399.2. Cf. Plutarch, Antonius, ed. by K. Ziegler, in, Plutarchi vitae parallelae, vol. 3.1 (Leipzig, 1915), 147.18–22.

⁸² Further evidence of advance planning in the Epitome is provided by Christopher Mallan in: Mallan, ‘The Historian’, 361.

⁸³ The existing bibliography on this matter is extensive: Treadgold, Historians, 395–6; Cameron, The Last Pagans, 659–90; Karpozilos, Βυζαντινοί Ιστορικοί, 472–8; R. M. Frakes, ‘Ammianus Marcellinus and Zonaras on a Late Roman Assassination Plot’, Historia: Zeitschrift für Alte Geschichte, 46 (1997), 121–8; B. Bleckmann, ‘Der Chronik des Johannes Zonaras und eine pagane Quelle zur Geschichte Konstantins’, Historia: Zeitschrift für Alte Geschichte, 40 (1991), 343–65; M. Dimaio, ‘Smoke in the Wind: Zonaras’ Use of Philostorgius, Zosimus, John of Antioch, and John of Rhodes in His Narrative on the Neo-Flavian Emperors’, Byz, 58 (1988), 230–55; Dimaio, ‘The Antiochene Connection’; M. Dimaio, ‘History and Myth in Zonaras’ Epitome Historiarum: The Chronographer as Editor’, Byzantine Studies/Etudes Byzantines, 10 (1983), 19–28; M. Dimaio, ‘Infaustis Ductoribus Praeviis: The Antiochene Connection, Part II’, Byz, 51 (1981), 502–10; Patzig, ‘Zonaras II’; Patzig, ‘Zonaras I’.

⁸⁴ For Malchos, see Εpitome, III, 131.7. For Prokopios, see Epitome, III, 170.1–8, 171.15–7.

⁸⁵ Ziegler, ‘Zonaras’, 729.

⁸⁶ See p. 19 of this book.

⁸⁷ See the observations of J. Bury in his article ‘The Nika Riot’, The Journal of Hellenic Studies, 17 (1897), 92–119, at 104–5, 116–17.

⁸⁸ Studies according to which Zonaras made use of Malalas’ chronicle are, for instance: Treadgold, Historians, 396; R. Scott, ‘From Propaganda to History to Literature: The Byzantine Stories of Theodosius’ Apple and Marcian’s Eagles’, in History as Literature, ed. by Macrides, 115–33, in 130. Banchich, however, expresses his doubts as to whether Zonaras had direct access to Malalas: Banchich and Lane, The History of Zonaras, 79–80, 93–4. Also, Zonaras is not listed among the authors who, according to Jeffreys, employed Malalas as a source: Jeffreys, ‘Malalas in Greek’, in Studies, ed. by Jeffreys.

⁸⁹ See T. Kampianaki, ‘Sayings Attributed to Emperors of Old and New Rome in Michael Psellos’ Historia Syntomos’, in From Constantinople to the Frontier, ed. by Matheou, Kampianaki, and Bondioli, 311–25; ‘Dželebdžić, ‘Izreke careva’. A notable mistake made by Zonaras, who in all probability follows Psellos, is that Constantine VII Porphyrogennetos composed some verses for his late wife, Helen: Epitome, III, 483.4–5. Constantine, of course, died in 959 and predeceased his wife by two years. This error appears only in Psellos, Historia Syntomos, 102.10–2. Although the authorship of Historia Syntomos was questioned in the past, it is fairly certain now that it is an original Psellian work: Dželebdžić, ‘Ιστορία σύντομος’, 5–19; J. Duffy and E. Papaioannou, ‘Michael Psellos and the Authorship of Historia Syntomos: Final Considerations’, in Βυζάντιο: κράτος και κοινωνία, ed. by A. Avramea, A. Laiou, and E. Chrysos (Athens, 2003), 219–29; Ljubarskij, ‘Some Notes’; Psellos, Historia Syntomos, IX–XV (introduction); K. Snipes, ‘A Newly Discovered History of the Roman Emperors by Michael Psellos’, JÖB, 32 (1982), 53–65.

⁹⁰ Scott, ‘Narrating the Reign’, 10; Treadgold, Historians, 396; Karpozilos, Βυζαντινοί Ιστορικοί, 474, 477–9.

⁹¹ Generally, on Zonaras’ relation to Skylitzes, see Trapp, Militärs, 13–9, in which the parallel extracts between Zonaras and Skylitzes are identified, and also F. Hirsch, Byzantinische Studien (Leipzig, 1876), 379–96. Catherine Holmes has underlined that Zonaras downplays the importance given to aristocratic families by Skylitzes: Holmes, Basil II, 199.

⁹² It should be mentioned that Zonaras himself would not have understood Skylitzes’ chronicle and Skylitzes Continuatus as two different texts, as they must have appeared as a single source in the manuscript available to him. Unlike Zonaras, George Kedrenos, for instance, had access to a manuscript which contained Skylitzes’ chronicle, but not Skylitzes Continuatus: Skylitzes, Synopsis, ix. The existing scholarship that supports the common identity of Skylitzes and Skylitzes Continuatus is summarized in Holmes, Basil II, 81–5. Trapp has indicated the parallel passages between Zonaras and Skylitzes Continuatus, as well as between Zonaras and Psellos: Trapp, Militärs, 13–19. In this connection, it should be said that Trapp argues that Zonaras also had access to the History of Michael Attaleiates, drawing upon his work once: Trapp, Militärs, 13. In my view, Skylitzes Continuatus depends so heavily on Attaleiates that it is extremely difficult to tell whether Zonaras consulted Attaleiates directly.

⁹³ For information about how the chronicler handles Psellos’ Chronography, see D. R. Reinsch, ‘Wer waren die Leser und Hörer der Chronographia des Michael Psellos, ZRVI, 50–1 (2013), 389–98, in 395, in which Zonaras’ reception of Psellos is briefly discussed. See also O. Lampsidis, ‘Ο Μιχαήλ Ψελλός ως πηγή της «Επιτομής» του Ιωάννου Ζωναρά’, Ἐπετηρὶς Ἑταιρείας Βυζαντινῶν Σπουδῶν, 19 (1949), 170–88.

⁹⁴ Epitome, III, 672.13 and 673.4, respectively.

⁹⁵ Kedrenos’ chronicle is not listed among the sources of the Epitome in Neville, Guide, 192, whereas Scott and Treadgold note that Zonaras might have known Kedrenos’ text: Scott, ‘Narrating the Reign’, 26; Treadgold, Historians, 396.

⁹⁶ For these examples, see: Mallan, ‘The Historian’, 361 and Scott, ‘Narrating the Reign’, 25–6, respectively. However, we cannot be sure whether Zonaras drew this material from Kedrenos, or whether both authors used common sources. According to Mallan, the detail about Elagabalus could also have been taken from Dio’s Roman History. Scott noted that both Kedrenos and Zonaras could have derived the piece of information about Valens’ prediction from a common source that is unknown to us.

⁹⁷ See p. 80 (footnote 75) of this book.

⁹⁸ For example, both Hunger and Ziegler count the Alexiad among Zonaras’ sources: Hunger, Literatur, I, 416–17; Ziegler, ‘Zonaras’, 729. In his doctoral thesis, Peter Frankopan has also argued that Zonaras’ account of the reign of Alexios Komnenos is based on Anna’s work: Frankopan, ‘Foreign Policy’, 40–8. For a slightly different suggestion, that the Epitome was written prior to or simultaneously with the Alexiad, see L. Orlov Vilimonović, Structure and Features of Anna Komnene’s Alexiad. Emergence of a Personal History (Amsterdam, 2019), 63–9.

⁹⁹ In the proem of the Alexiad, Anna tells us that her writing continues that of Bryennios, who died before finishing his own history: Anna Komnene, Alexias, 7.47–8.93. About the dating of the Alexiad in general, see Magdalino, ‘The Pen of the Aunt’, 15–16.

¹⁰⁰ Anna Komnene, Alexias, 451.42–452.64.

¹⁰¹ For the dating of the Epitome, see p. 10 of this book.

¹⁰² Karpozilos, Βυζαντινοί ιστορικοί, 521–6; Angold, ‘Afterword’.

¹⁰³ Karpozilos, Βυζαντινοί ιστορικοί, 521–6; Macrides, ‘Who Wrote the Alexiad?’, 73.

¹⁰⁴ Holmes, Basil II, 180–1; The Chronicle of Theophanes, lii–liii.

¹⁰⁵ The Chronicle of Theophanes, lxiii–lxxiv.

¹⁰⁶ Theophanes, Chronographia, I, 333–41. Cf. Epitome, III, 218.9–10.

¹⁰⁷ Theophanes, Chronographia, I, 404–5.

¹⁰⁸ Skylitzes, Synopsis, 115–27 (Book 7, chapters 1–10).

¹⁰⁹ Epitome, III, 407.13–412.18.

¹¹⁰ Ibid., 433.3–434.16. Cf. Skylitzes, Synopsis, 21–2 (Book 7, chapter 6).

¹¹¹ Epitome, III, 475.1–3.

¹¹² Ibid., 480.6–10.

¹¹³ Ibid., 482.5.

¹¹⁴ Ibid., 482.17–483.11. Cf. Skylitzes, Synopsis, 237–8 (Book 12, chapter 3). Here, it may be noted that Zonaras reverses the order in which Skylitzes describes the qualities of Constantine. He speaks about the positive ones first and the negative ones second.

¹¹⁵ Epitome, III, 646–7 and 676–7. Cf. Skylitzes, Synopsis, 476–7 (Book 22, chapter 29); Skylitzes Continuatus, 112–13.

¹¹⁶ Epitome, III, 674.1–6. Cf. Skylitzes Continuatus, 110–1.

¹¹⁷ Epitome, III, 676.15–677.16. Cf. Skylitzes Continuatus, 112.

¹¹⁸ Epitome, III, 601–12.

¹¹⁹ For an analysis of the manner in which Psellos draws the portraits of the emperors in the Chronography, see E. Pietsch, Die Chronographia des Michael Psellos: Kaisergeschichte, Autobiographie und Apologie (Wiesbaden, 2005), 2–6, 66–128.

¹²⁰ Epitome, III, 554–5, 561–2. Cf. Psellos, Chronography, 13.1–14.18 (Book 1, chapter 22), 19.1–20.14 (Book 1, chapters 31–2).

¹²¹ Epitome, III, 569.7–570.13, 606.9–17, respectively. Cf. Psellos, Chronography, 27.1–29.14 (Book 2, chapters 6–9), 83.1–84.29 (Book 5, chapter 9), respectively.

¹²² See Markopoulos, ‘Narrative Historiography’, in which earlier bibliography on the subject is included, and also Markopoulos, ‘Genesios’.

¹²³ Epitome, III, 339.11–12.

¹²⁴ Ibid., 407.9–12.

¹²⁵ Ibid., 354.3–355.8. For Kassia and her oeuvre, see the classic study on Kassia by I. Rochow, Studien zu der Person, den Werken und dem Nachleben der Dichterin Kassia (Berlin, 1967), in which Zonaras’ presentation of the poet can be found at 7–8. See also N. Tsironis, ‘The Body and the Senses in the Work of Cassia the Hymnographer: Literary Trends in the Iconoclastic Period’, ByzSym, 16 (2005), 139–57.

¹²⁶ For an interpretation of how the famous legend of Kassia’s participation in the bride-show for the hand of Theophilos emerged, see M. Lauxtermann, ‘Three Biographical Notes’, BZ, 91(1998), 391–405.

¹²⁷ E. Fisher, ‘Michael Psellos and a Hagiographical Landscape: The Life of St. Auxentios and the Encomion of Symeon the Metaphrast’, in Reading Michael Psellos, ed. by C. Barber and D. Jenkins (Leiden, 2006), 57–71; A. Kazhdan, ‘An Attempt at Hagio-Autography: The Pseudo-Life of “Saint” Psellus’, Byz, 53 (1983), 546–56. Solely thirteenth-century examples are provided by J. Munitiz, ‘Hagiographical Autobiography in the 13th Century’, Byzantinoslavica, 53 (1992), 243–9.

¹²⁸ Epitome, III, 765.5–766.3.

¹²⁹ Ibid., 732.15–733.4, 766.9–767.10. For Zonaras’ critique of Alexios, see Magdalino, ‘Kaiserkritik’, 329–33; Kazhdan, ‘Social Views’, 59–62.

¹³⁰ Holmes, Basil II, 180.

¹³¹ See pp. 69–70 of this book.

¹³² See, respectively, Epitome, II, 284.20–285.6. Cf. Dio, History, I, 309–10 (fragments 70.4–9); Epitome II, 417.20–418.6. Cf. Dio, History, II, 469–70 (Book 54.29).

¹³³ Epitome, II, 433.1–12. Cf Dio, History, II, 559–60 (Book 57.1).

¹³⁴ See, respectively, Dio, History, I, 191–4 (fragments 54.1–9) and Dio, History, II, 365–6 (Book 51.15).

¹³⁵ For this, see the illuminating article by L. Garland, ‘Basil II as Humorist’, Byz, 69 (1999), 321–43, esp. in 332–3. Discussing Psellos’ presentation of Basil II in his Chronography, Garland argues that corpora of imperial sayings circulated in the palace during this period and that one containing the witticisms of Basil was available to the writer. She further highlights a part of the Chronography, in which Psellos relates that the emperor Isaac Komnenos would entertain his entourage ‘with stories of the old times, recalling all the witty sayings of Romanus’s son, the emperor Basil the Great’: see Psellos, Chronography, 245.6 (Book 7, chapter 76).

¹³⁶ Floris Bernard, for example, has investigated an encomiastic poem of the eleventh-century poet Christopher of Mytilene addressed to Constantine Monomachos: Bernard, Poetry, 103. An extensive poem of the twelfth-century poet Manganeios Prodromos, which describes in encomiastic terms the body of Manuel Komnenos, has been analysed by Michael Jeffreys: M. Jeffreys, ‘Rhetorical’ Texts’, in Rhetoric in Byzantium: Papers from the Thirty-Fifth Spring Symposium of Byzantine Studies, ed. by E. Jeffreys (Aldershot, 2003), 87–100, at 95–6. See also Magdalino, The Empire of Manuel, 471–2, for an epigram composed by Andronikos Kamateros, which is an ekphrasis of a portrait of Manuel Komnenos.

¹³⁷ See pp. 31–2 of this book.

¹³⁸ Epitome, III, 734.1–16, 750.16–751.9.

¹³⁹ See pp. 122–3 of this book.

¹⁴⁰ See p. 148 of this book.