5

Zonaras’ Keen Interest in Roman Antiquity

Zonaras’ great interest in the Roman origins of Byzantium is a notable feature of his chronicle. To account for the writer’s emphasis on the world of Old Rome, one can examine his interests first against the intellectual and literary background of the eleventh and twelfth centuries, and then against the historical background of the period.

5.1 Zonaras’ Interest in the Roman Past Within the Eleventh- and Twelfth-Century Intellectual and Literary Context

In his article on Kaiserkritik, Magdalino was the first to note the considerable interest in Roman antiquity at the imperial court of Michael VII Doukas (r. 1071–1078).¹ Echoes of this attention to the Roman world can be found in several works dedicated to the emperor by educated and ambitious men of the time. John Xiphilinos wrote his epitome of Cassius Dio’s Roman History for Michael Doukas.² The Ponema Nomikon, a legal textbook beginning with the Roman Republic, was produced by Michael Attaleiates for the same emperor.³ Michael Psellos, Michael Doukas’ tutor and close confidant (if we are to believe the Chronography), dedicated to his disciple numerous didactic poems about a variety of subjects.⁴ Among these is the so-called Synopsis Legum, which is in essence a manual explaining Latin juridical terms.⁵ Psellos’ Historia Syntomos, which starts from the mythical foundation of Rome by Romulus, was most likely intended for the same emperor as well.⁶

References to ancient Roman history are found in numerous eleventh- and twelfth-century texts, with writers deriving material from the early days of Rome, from Republican Rome and from the Principate. Magdalino has postulated that the revival of interest in the Roman origins of the Empire relates to two eleventh-century developments: the boost given to legal studies under Constantine Monomachos; and the shift towards the Roman past noted in the West, in ‘parallel and in reaction to’ which Roman antiquarianism was developed in Byzantium.⁷ Macrides has linked the twelfth-century renovatio promoted by the Komnenian dynasty to the Byzantine quest for Roman antecedents, particularly those of Justinian I’s time.⁸ The attention to the Roman origins of Byzantium came into focus again in 2006 with a study by Athanasios Markopoulos. Giving an overview of the Byzantines’ engagement with Roman antiquities during the middle Byzantine period, Markopoulos proposed a new approach to the phenomenon. In his opinion, the ripening interest in Roman history during the eleventh and twelfth centuries was a culmination of intellectual processes whose origins can already be traced back to the patriarch Photios’ attention to the Roman past in the mid-ninth century.⁹ The phenomenon of Roman antiquarianism has also been noted by Anthony Kaldellis and Dimitris Krallis, who have both identified a strong interest in the Roman Republic in particular during the period.¹⁰

Various eleventh-century sources indicate the contemporary need for a good command of Latin for operating in the field of jurisprudence. The emperor Constantine Monomachos founded a law school as part of the extensive complex of the monastery of St George at Mangana. According to a Novel probably promulgated in 1047 by the accomplished poet John Mauropous,¹¹ John VIII Xiphilinos, the patriarch of Constantinople, received the title of nomophylax and was appointed head of the school. In the Novel, Mauropous makes heavy use of the Justinianic corpus of laws, in which he found many legal terms that originated from Latin.¹² The law school of Constantine Monomachos was apparently short-lived and had no lasting effect.¹³ Still, the details that point to the importance of Latin within the school are worth noting. The nomophylax of the school was required to know both Greek and Latin. One might presume that Roman law and Latin would also be subjects on the school’s curriculum.¹⁴

The importance of Latin to the legal profession is also stressed by the author named John Nomophylax in his scholia to the Basilika. The author, whom Wanda Wolska-Conus has identified as Xiphilinos,¹⁵ criticized the compilers of the Basilika for having made mistakes in the translation of the Latin works due to their poor knowledge of the language. A second text attributed to Xiphilinos by Wolska-Conus is the Meditatio de nudis pactis.¹⁶ Written by a judge in the Constantinopolitan court for his peers, the work shows a clear interest in Roman law and Latin legal terminology. Although the extent to which eleventh-century jurists, Xiphilinos included, knew and understood Latin is open to debate,¹⁷ repeated references to the use of Latin by the administrators of justice reflect a renewal of interest in the language, at least among high-ranking state officials. This observation indicates that Zonaras’ general interest in Latin terminology, which is evident in both his chronicle and in his commentary on canon law,¹⁸ was apparently shared by some of his predecessors in the field of jurisprudence.

The topic of Latin legal terms captured Psellos’ attention as well. His work Synopsis Legum was probably produced not later than 1075.¹⁹ Although the work is introduced by the author as ‘a comprehensible compendium of laws’ (‘εὐθήρατόν τι σύνταγμα τῶν νόμων’),²⁰ it is in fact a manual focusing on legal terminology. To explain basic concepts of jurisprudence to his addressee, Psellos uses numerous Latin terms, for which he generally provides the Greek equivalents.²¹ Wishing his student to gain a sense of historical scope, he makes various references to ancient Roman law. Psellos’ practice of using legal terms in Latin can also be identified in his shorter juridical treatises.²²

Psellos’ keen interest in Roman antiquities may be seen too in his historical works. In the Chronography, the author shows an appreciation of well-known figures of imperial Rome, such as the philosopher Marcus Aurelius (r. 161–180), the second Antonine emperor.²³ Mocking the emperor Romanos III Argyros (r. 1028–1034), for instance, Psellos draws a parallel between the emperor and Marcus Aurelius, saying that Romanos Argyros aspired to emulate the first Roman emperor, Augustus, and the emperors of the Antonine dynasty, particularly Marcus Aurelius. Consequently, Romanos Argyros involved himself ‘in the study of letters and the science of war’ (‘τῆς τε περὶ τοὺς λόγους σπουδῆς̇ καὶ τῆς περὶ τὰ ὅπλα φροντίδος’).²⁴ Psellos says elsewhere that the image of Marcus Aurelius, ‘the most philosophical among kings’ (‘τὸν ἐν βασιλεῦσι φιλοσοφώτατον’), appealed to Constantine Monomachos as well.²⁵ Monomachos would listen carefully to Psellos’ lectures and take notes, wishing to imitate a similar practice by Marcus Aurelius.²⁶ Furthermore, in cases when Psellos wished to make a remark about an emperor’s military skills and either mock or praise him, he would draw on the history of imperial Rome and was likely to use, among others, the exempla of Trajan and Hadrian. Narrating Romanos Argyros’ military campaign to Syria in the Chronography, he notes ironically that Romanos was determined to go to war in an attempt to accomplish deeds similar to those of the memorable rulers Trajan, Hadrian, and, further back in time, Augustus, Julius Caesar, and Alexander the Great.²⁷ The same Roman exempla are found in Psellos’ favourable portrayal of the caesar John Doukas, who admired Trajan and Hadrian.²⁸ The caesar, according to Psellos, even studied their accomplishments, as they were transmitted by extant strategika, manuals of strategies and military tactics, and the works of Aelian and Apollodorus.²⁹

Historia Syntomos exemplifies Psellos’ quest for Roman antecedents. The chronicle extends from the time of Romulus to the reign of the emperor Basil II. Interestingly enough, it is the only work of the middle Byzantine period in which the narrative begins with the mythical founder of Rome.³⁰ What is important in this regard is that Historia Syntomos sets a precedent for Zonaras’ chronicle, in which the Roman section begins more or less at the same point.³¹ Both texts echo to some extent the idea that a chronicle could relate the history of the Roman state since its foundation without intimately connecting it to the early Christian past. Psellos’ aim, of course, was not to compose a world history, but to focus on the Roman Empire, presenting ‘a short history of those who reigned in Elder Rome and later in Newer Rome’ (‘Ἱστορία σύντομος τῶν παρὰ τῇ πρεσβυτέρᾳ Ῥώμῃ βασιλευσάντων καὶ αὖθις τῇ νεωτέρᾳ’).³² The fact that about half the text is devoted to the subject of Rome is likely to indicate that the author wished to lay equal emphasis on Rome and Constantinople.³³

At the same time, the author follows the long tradition of chronicle writing and gives a succinct account of the Roman Republic.³⁴ He deals with the Republican era in only seven chapters (chapters 8 to 14), each dedicated to a set of consuls, from Iunius Brutus and Tarquinius Collatinus in 509 bc, to Valerius Poplicola IV and Lucretius Tricipitinus II in 504 bc. He then skips Republican Rome and continues his history with the deeds of Julius Caesar. From that point onwards, each chapter narrates the reign of an emperor. It has been argued that the Republican system of government, in which the consuls, the highest elected officials, were in charge for only a year, would make little sense to a Byzantine audience.³⁵ Psellos himself explains the reason why he decided to omit the achievements of the consuls; he wished to urge the recipient of his work (his student Michael Doukas) to choose specific models of kingship over others.³⁶ Such models could not be found within the context of Republican Rome; the Republican period lacked ‘governing continuity’ (‘συνέχειαν ἀρχικήν’),³⁷ to use Psellos’ words, and consequently did not provide examples of rulers who remained in power for a long time, as the emperor Michael Doukas was supposed to do. To offer such examples to his disciple, Psellos had to look to the world of the Roman imperium.

Nevertheless, Psellos’ view of the Roman Republic as a political system is not negative. It is illustrated in his brief account of the consulship of Valerius Poplicola and Lucretius Tricipitinus, in which the author emphatically states: ‘They [the consuls] brought peace during that year and increased the numbers of the armies for the Romans; for the Romans, aristocratic consulship was proved better than kingship’ (‘Εἰρηνικόν τε τὸν ἐνιαυτὸν ἐκεῖνον συντετελέκασι καὶ τὰ πλήθη τῶν στρατευμάτων Ῥωμαίοις συνηυξήκασι καὶ <ἡ> ἀριστοκρατικὴ ὑπατεία κρείττων τῆς βασιλείας Ῥωμαίοις ἀποδέδεικτo’).³⁸ The results of the consulship of Valerius Poplicola and Lucretius Tricipitinus were beneficial to the state. The historian’s favourable attitude towards aristocratic consulship has been suggested as the most important reason why Psellos did not opt to omit the history of Republican Rome altogether.³⁹ Nevertheless, an extensive analysis of the Roman Republic would not have served Psellos’ didactic purposes in Historia Syntomos, which was to seek imperial models for imitation.

In his epitome of Cassius Dio’s Roman History, Xiphilinos focuses on the leading politicians and emperors of ancient Rome. The author derives material from Books 36 to 80 of Dio’s history, thus covering the period from 69 bc to 229. In a short excerpt from Xiphilinos’ work, we find his reason for epitomizing Dio’s work: ‘because our own life and polity depends a great deal upon those times’ (‘διὰ τὸ πάμπολυ ἀπηρτῆσθαι τῶν καιρῶν ἐκείνων τὸν καθ᾽ ἡμᾶς βίον καὶ τὸ πολίτευμα’).⁴⁰ Xiphilinos thus underlines how important he believes it is for the Byzantines to know about Republican and imperial Rome. For him, this period is ultimately linked to the contemporary political situation: he clearly sees some sort of continuity between the political institutions of ancient Rome and those of eleventh-century Byzantium. As we shall soon see, Zonaras’ approach to the Republican past of the Roman state is not far from Xiphilinos’.⁴¹ Zonaras, too, understands the Republic as part of the development of the current political system. Dio’s constitutional debates about republicanism attracted limited attention from Xiphilinos. According to an analysis by Mallan, Xiphilinos was keen to abridge heavily lengthy speeches included in Dio’s account of the Republic, but seems to have maintained long sections in his narrative of the imperial period. Xiphilinos primarily draws his attention to elements of the emperors’ characters and biographies, thus maintaining the tenth- and eleventh-century biographical style of history-writing.⁴² The fact that he was writing at the imperial court must also have had a significant impact on Xiphilinos’ decision to omit or abridge sections of a republican nature.

Xiphilinos was not the only author who took a great interest in Dio’s work during the eleventh and twelfth centuries. Kekaumenos, a close contemporary of Xiphilinos and a high-ranking military official, made use of the Roman History in his Strategikon, produced in the mid-1070s.⁴³ In his Histories, the twelfth-century scholar John Tzetzes repeatedly names Cassius Dio as one of his sources,⁴⁴ while excerpts from his work can be found in Tzetzes’ commentary on Lycophron’s Alexandra.⁴⁵ Eustathios, archbishop of Thessalonike, also included parts of Dio in his works.⁴⁶

The ancient Roman world was a source of inspiration for Michael Attaleiates, a high-ranking legal and military official, as well. Let us first consider his legal treatise. The Ponema Nomikon is a completely different text from Psellos’ Synopsis Legum in terms of character and purpose, although it is a similar kind of legal compendium. It has a more practical character and therefore would have been particularly useful to jurists.⁴⁷ According to Attaleiates himself, his aim was to record the current laws of the state in a brief and easily understood treatise.⁴⁸ He begins his work by succinctly explaining the Republican system of government and points out that at first the majority of laws were not written down and were based on custom.⁴⁹ He then refers to the process which led to the promulgation of the Law of the Twelve Tables; a board of ten men was elected, with the legal expert Claudius Appius as the head. Having collected the Roman laws, and also having taken into consideration the legislation established in various Greek cities, they selected the laws for inclusion in the code. Attaleiates passes over in two sentences imperial regulations promulgated by emperors after the end of the Republic, reaching the Justinianic codification of laws and soon after the Basilika, the compilation of the Justinianic corpus of laws produced by Leo VI the Wise (r. 886–912).⁵⁰ What is important here is that Attaleiates saw fit to introduce his text by giving an account, albeit a short one, of the history of Roman jurisprudence. He thus presents the contemporary legislative system as the final stage in a continuum of legal developments beginning with the recording of laws during the Republic.

Attaleiates’ History covers the reigns of the Byzantine emperors from Michael IV the Paphlagonian to Nikephoros Botaneiates, to whom the work is dedicated.⁵¹ Two sections of the work are particularly revealing of the historian’s perception of Roman antiquity. First, in his account of Michael Doukas’ reign, Attaleiates contrasts the leaders of the contemporary Romans with those of the ancient Romans.⁵² He notes, among other things, that, although ancient Romans had not known Christianity, due to their inherent magnanimity they educated themselves to observe and practise virtues such as piety and purity. They identified a defeat or a negative omen as a sign of divine displeasure and sought to investigate whether something necessary had been neglected or a shameful act had been committed. Once they had appeased their gods, they campaigned against their enemies and achieved marvellous victories.⁵³ Contemporary Roman emperors and generals do not act in the same manner as their ancestors. They are more interested in their own personal gain than in the well-being of their countrymen and the glory of the Empire. For Attaleiates, the attitudes of ancient Roman leaders are the standard against which he measures his contemporaries; he uses Roman politicians of the past as exempla to strongly criticize modern Byzantine leaders. An interesting literary parallel to Attaleiates’ attempt to attribute Christian virtues to ancient Romans can be found in Zonaras’ chronicle; as was observed in the third chapter, Zonaras tailors Plutarch’s portrayal of the Roman king Numa to make clear that, although Numa was a pagan, he essentially exhibited the qualities of a good Christian.⁵⁴

The other section in which Attaleiates’ Roman antiquarianism emerges is the extensive digression into Botaneiates’ alleged ancestry. According to the historian, the emperor descended from the family of the Phokades, who are presented as being descendants of both Constantine the Great and two well-known and highly esteemed families of ancient Rome, the Fabii and the Scipiones.⁵⁵ Attaleiates makes special mention of three renowned figures of Republican Rome: the consul Aemilius Paulus; Scipio Africanus, a general in the Second Punic War; and his brother, the consul Scipio Asiaticus. He gives a brief account of the military accomplishments achieved by each of these figures. It is not possible to tell whether Attaleiates himself invented the noble ancestry of the Phokades or whether he used material which was in circulation around that time.⁵⁶ As he does earlier in his narrative, he links the chief protagonist of his work to ancient Romans so as to elevate Botaneiates in his readers’ estimation. By emphasizing the unbroken continuity between these icons of the Roman Republic and the Phokades from whom Botaneiates supposedly descends, he projects, in a sense, the qualities of powerful and memorable figures of ancient Rome onto the emperor whom he wishes to exalt.⁵⁷

Composed during the first half of the twelfth century, the historical work of the caesar Nikephoros Bryennios also recalls the ancient Roman past.⁵⁸ Discussing the events from 1070 to 1079, Bryennios features some of the most prominent historical figures of the period, making Alexios Komnenos and Nikephoros Bryennios the Elder the central heroes of the narrative. In her study dedicated to Bryennios’ work, Leonora Neville characterizes both Attaleiates and Bryennios as ‘Romanizing historians’.⁵⁹ Bryennios occasionally uses exempla taken from Roman history to make comparisons with key figures in his narrative. Isaakios Komnenos, for instance, was put in charge of the military expedition against the Turks in Cappadocia by the emperor Michael Doukas. Isaakios’ younger brother, Alexios, marched along with him. Bryennios provides a double example for this. He says that Alexios exceeds Scipio Africanus the Younger in military virtue. He then adds that Scipio followed his father, the consul Aemilius Paulus, in his campaign against the Macedonian king Perseus, thus drawing a second parallel between Alexios and Scipio, both of whom joined an expedition under the command of a senior member of their family.⁶⁰ Although it is unusual for Bryennios to explicitly compare figures in his narrative with ancient Roman paradigms, his heroes are portrayed as having classical Roman virtues.⁶¹ Neville views Bryennios’ quest for heroes in Roman antiquity as the author’s attempt to understand the processes of social and political transformation in Alexios Komnenos’ time.⁶²

In the twelfth century, when Byzantine rhetoric flourished,⁶³ both Greek and Roman exempla frequently made their appearance in imperial orations as well.⁶⁴ A prime example in which we find numerous exempla drawn from Roman history is Nikephoros Basilakes’ extensive oration to the emperor John Komnenos. Basilakes, aiming to exalt the recipient of his speech, repeatedly compares John with great figures from the Roman past, drawing material from the early days of Rome, and from Republican and imperial Rome. He recalls Tarquin the Elder, the fifth king of Rome, and his successor Servius Tullius, both of whom launched an extensive building programme in the city, remarking that John fortified New Rome with arms, instead of walls.⁶⁵ Many exempla relate to Republican Rome. The emperor fights against foreign enemies with greater bravery than Scipio,⁶⁶ is more adventurous than Marcellus, and a better general than Sertorius.⁶⁷ Unlike Aemilius Paulus, who defeated the Macedonian king Perseus, John does not parade his triumphs.⁶⁸ Basilakes uses an imperial model to praise his addressee’s skill as an archer; he says that John is more competent at using a bow than the emperor Gratian.⁶⁹

This overview of the eleventh- and twelfth-century literature in which an interest in the ancient Roman world is identified demonstrates that authors drew on Roman history and treated their material in various ways. The purposes of the work impacted on the selection and presentation of the material. In the historical works of Attaleiates and Bryennios, the presentation of the Roman past serves as the moral compass of the narrative. The extent to which their heroes exhibit qualities which characterized ancient Romans determines how favourably they are portrayed. Psellos’ Historia Syntomos was primarily a vehicle to offer the young emperor Michael Doukas imperial models for imitation. The author’s account of the Roman Republic, a polity which was not conducive to the aims of the text, was thus brief. Authors would use well-known figures from Roman antiquity as exempla for juxtaposition with the heroes of their works. To provide the most characteristic examples, an emperor was likely to be compared with Marcus Aurelius for his aptitude for knowledge and with Trajan and Hadrian for his military achievements. Of course, such exempla are rhetorical devices which allowed a learned writer to display his rhetorical training, but at the same time they are understood as representing knowledge shared by authors and their audiences. These icons of Old Rome were part of the collective memory of the Byzantines, who associated them with particular features. These remarks raise the question of how widespread Roman antiquarianism was among the learned men of the period. The material at our disposal does not allow us to propose a definite answer. Many of those works were produced at the imperial court. The individual interests and tastes of an emperor must have played an important role, as the numerous works concerned with Roman antiquities at the court of Michael Doukas indicate. The personal preferences of an individual writer should also be taken into consideration. It was Attaleiates’ own choice, for instance, to either invent or incorporate the story that Botaneiates was related to highly esteemed Roman families into his narrative.

In parallel to this nostalgia for Roman antiquities, a pronounced interest in ancient Greek literature can also be observed during the twelfth century. For instance, Anna Komnene was inspired by Plutarch’s Parallel Lives and John Kinnamos by Thucydides and Xenophon.⁷⁰ Authors such as Tzetzes and Basilakes included both Greek and Roman material in their works.⁷¹ One can assume that some authors were more interested than others in either Greek or Roman history and keener to take material from either of these traditions.

Zonaras seems to have been receptive to the literary trends of his time. The considerable attention he pays to Old Rome certainly fits within the broader framework of Roman antiquarianism noted in the eleventh and twelfth centuries. His use of Cassius Dio’s history is not surprising either, as the work of the Roman historian appears to have been in vogue at that time.⁷² Perhaps inspired by texts which displayed an interest in the Roman past, such as those of Dio, Xiphilinos, and Psellos, Zonaras might have been encouraged to research the Roman origins of Byzantium. He can be seen as one of the ‘Romanizing’ authors, to whom Roman antiquities appealed much more than the ancient Greek past. His quest for the ancient Roman past is also shown in his commentary on canonical works,⁷³ which further reinforces the idea that Zonaras was fascinated by the Roman tradition.

5.2 Zonaras’ Interest in the Roman Past Within the Historical Context of the Later Eleventh and Twelfth Centuries

In addition to the literary context of the eleventh and twelfth centuries, the social and cultural milieu in which Zonaras lived and composed his work probably had a strong impact on the selection of his material. The author’s decision to draw on the Roman tradition and emphasize the Roman antecedents of the Empire may be better understood when one considers the growing stream of Westerners coming to Constantinople, noted particularly from the mid-eleventh century onwards. This development was a result of both the commercial treaties concluded between Byzantium and the Italian maritime cities and the First Crusade.

Following a chrysobull issued by Alexios Komnenos in the late eleventh century,⁷⁴ Venetian merchants were highly motivated to do business in Byzantium. Although the original document has not come down to us, a detailed record of the concessions to the Venetians can be found in two Latin translations of Alexios’ chrysobull incorporated into later chrysobulls issued by Manuel Komnenos in 1148 and Isaac II Angelos (r. 1185–1195) in 1187.⁷⁵ The Republic of Venice was offered generous trading privileges by Alexios, two of which were of great importance.⁷⁶ First, a separate commercial quarter on the south bank of the Golden Horn was granted to Venetian traders. Three landing stages, a number of buildings, and the church of St Akindynos, with its adjacent bakery, were situated in this area and now passed into Venetian hands. Second, Venetian merchants were exempted altogether from taxes on products either imported to or exported from the capital. Similar privileges were awarded to Venetian traders in other ports of the Empire as well. The commercial advantages given to Venice were confirmed by chrysobulls issued by Alexios’ heirs, John Komnenos (in 1126) and Manuel Komnenos (in 1147).⁷⁷ These concessions aimed at, and succeeded in, making Byzantine cities, and particularly the capital, into markets attractive to Venetians. Indeed, the regular trade contacts with Venice and the growing number of Venetian merchants in Constantinople led Manuel to issue a second chrysobull in 1148 and to provide them with new buildings and a fourth landing stage in their quarter in the imperial capital.⁷⁸ Venice was not the only one of the Italian maritime republics to which a series of privileges was granted by the Komnenian emperors. The year 1111, for example, saw Alexios according privileges to Pisa.⁷⁹ Pisans merchants were similarly offered a quarter and a landing stage in Constantinople, privileges ratified by John in 1135.

In addition to the streams of Italian merchants flooding Constantinople, Western mercenaries, too, joined the Byzantine army from the mid-eleventh century onwards. Hervé Frankopoulos, Robert Crépin, and Roussel de Bailleul are prominent examples of Franks who were appointed as commanders of the Byzantine army.⁸⁰ In the autumn of 1087, Alexios Komnenos reached an agreement with Robert, count of Flanders, by which 500 knights were to be sent to the Byzantine emperor to assist him in his campaign against the Turks in Anatolia.⁸¹ Pressured by Turkish expansion in Asia Minor, Alexios is likely to have requested that additional military forces be sent to him in the early 1090s.⁸² Frankish contingents made their presence strongly felt in the imperial capital, particularly after the First Crusade in 1097, a turning point in relations between Byzantium and the Latin kingdoms.⁸³ The years after 1097 saw a large number of Western soldiers coming to Constantinople. A further implication of the First Crusade was the arrival of numerous pilgrims from the West, who travelled to the newly founded crusader states via the Byzantine capital. We also know of a small number of Frankish interpreters who were active at the court of the first two Komnenian emperors.⁸⁴

Taken together, these considerations suggest that Westerners were an important part of Constantinopolitan society in the period when Zonaras lived and wrote his works. The flow of Frankish soldiers, merchants, and pilgrims to the city would have meant that Latin would be increasingly heard around the capital. In his poem Theogonia, composed during the 1140s, John Tzetzes comments on the number of languages heard in the Constantinople of his time, Latin included.⁸⁵ Interestingly enough, he seems to put slightly more emphasis on Latin than languages such as Persian and Arabic.⁸⁶ For contemporary Byzantines, in other words, Latin was no longer simply the language of their ancestors. It was part of their present, spoken by foreigners from the West.⁸⁷ Before his withdrawal from public life, Zonaras would have witnessed the presence of Westerners in Constantinople; even after his tonsuring as a monk, he would have been aware that Frankish communities were becoming firmly established in the city.⁸⁸ As will be shown in the next chapter, he was in touch with a circle of acquaintances outside his monastery. Due to the close proximity of the island of St Glykeria to the capital, it is likely that he occasionally visited Constantinople himself or welcomed visitors from there to his monastery.⁸⁹

In the Epitome, Zonaras makes his view about the connection of the West to the world of Old Rome, the Byzantines’ own heritage, very clear. Latins were in no way related to the Roman Empire. He intrudes into his own narrative twice to remark that Franks are of German extraction, drawing at this point on Prokopios.⁹⁰ Like all Byzantines, Zonaras does not consider the Frankish leader to be a Roman emperor and calls him ‘the king of Frankia’ or ‘the king of the Franks’ instead.⁹¹

The chronicler’s emphasis on the Roman roots of the Empire could have been a result of the increased cultural and social interactions with Westerners, whose language was a reminder of the Byzantines’ own Roman ancestry. The author is likely to have been stimulated by the atmosphere in the capital to investigate and write extensively about the Roman past. Notably, previous scholarship has shown that the negative attitude of the twelfth-century Byzantine elite towards Westerners was among the reasons that led learned men of the time to take an interest in aspects of classical Greek culture.⁹² Contemporaries of Zonaras responded to the contacts with Latins by showing a preference for classical Greece. It could be maintained that Zonaras was among those who opted to take the opposite ‘cultural path’ and, prompted by the influx of Franks, turned his attention to the Roman origins of Byzantium.

Zonaras was not the only twelfth-century author who, prompted by the Frankish presence in Constantinople, stressed the Roman antecedents of the Empire. A similar attitude can be seen in the court poems produced by Zonaras’ near-contemporaries Theodore Prodromos and Manganeios Prodromos.⁹³ For example, both poets are inclined to repeatedly refer to Constantinople as ‘New Rome’ and juxtapose the city with ‘Elder Rome’,⁹⁴ which was thought to pale in comparison with the Byzantine capital.⁹⁵ The primacy of Constantinople over Rome is highlighted particularly in epithalamia written about the marriage of a Westerner to a member of the imperial family.⁹⁶ This is the case with the poem composed by Theodore Prodromos in 1142 for the arrival in the imperial capital of Bertha of Sulzbach, the sister-in-law of Conrad III and Manuel Komnenos’ new bride.⁹⁷ The same applies to Manganeios’ poem for the wedding of Theodora, third daughter of the sebastokratorissa Irene, to Conrad’s brother Heinrich in 1148.⁹⁸ Both Theodore and Manganeios stress that the German royal court will acquire greater prestige through its connections to the Byzantine imperial house than vice versa. Because of this alliance, even ‘Western Rome’, according to Manganeios, ‘will show itself brighter’ (‘Ῥώμη δυτικὴ δειχθῇ φωτεινοτέρα’).⁹⁹ Such messages were intended to be heard and understood by Westerners attending these ceremonies,¹⁰⁰ which were perfect occasions for the Byzantines to advertise their Roman heritage and concomitantly emphasize the superiority of New Rome over Old Rome. Like the poems of Theodore Prodromos and Manganeios, the Epitome, too, seems to have been a product of this climate, which stimulated intellectuals to promote Byzantine Romanitas.

5.3 Zonaras’ Approach to the Roman Past

Zonaras’ references to Rome as ‘Elder Rome’, a characterization which implies the existence of a ‘New Rome’, and the references to Constantinople itself as ‘New Rome’ can be taken to reflect his aim to stress Byzantine continuity with the ancient Roman Empire.¹⁰¹ His attempt to promote the image of Constantinople as ‘New Rome’ becomes clearer still when we consider the way in which he changes relevant extracts from his sources. The alterations he makes to the chronicle of Theophanes, for instance, are interesting in this regard. As indicative examples, we can compare the following excerpts from the two texts. For reasons of convenience, the extracts are listed one after another.

(1) Theophanes:

For when Eusebios died, the people restored Paul to the throne of Constantinople, whereas the Arians appointed Makedonios instead, so that a civil war broke out then.

τοῦ γὰρ Εὐσεβίου θανόντος, ὁ λαὸς τὸν Παῦλον τῷ θρόνῳ Κωνσταντινουπόλεως ἀπεκατέστησεν, οἱ δὲ Ἀρειανοὶ τὸν Μακεδόνιον ἀντεχειροτόνησαν, ὡς ἐντεῦθεν ἐμφύλιον γενέσθαι πόλεμον.¹⁰²

Zonaras:

When Eusebios died, Makedonios, who fought against the Holy Spirit, was put on the throne of New Rome by the Arians.

τοῦ δ’ Εὐσεβίου θανόντος ὁ πνευματομάχος παρὰ τῶν Ἀρειανῶν εἰς τὸν τῆς νέας Ῥώμης θρόνον ἀνάγεται Μακεδόνιος […]¹⁰³

(2) Theophanes:

When Eudoxios died in that year, the Arians proposed Demophilos as a bishop […]

Τούτῳ δὲ τῷ χρόνῳ Εὐδοξίου τελευτήσαντος Δημόφιλον Ἀρειανοὶ προεβάλοντο ἐπίσκοπον […]¹⁰⁴

Zonaras:

In that time, when Eudoxios, the patriarch of New Rome who had held unorthodox beliefs, died, Demophilos, who happened to be of the same beliefs as his predecessor, was elevated in his place.

Ἐπὶ τούτου τελευτήσαντος Εὐδοξίου τοῦ κακοδόξου τῆς νέας Ῥώμης ἀρχιερέως ἀντεισήχθη Δημόφιλος ὁμόδοξος τυγχάνων τῷ πρὸ αὐτοῦ·¹⁰⁵

(3) Theophanes:

When things were in this way, the Augustus Gratian, having known, marched to Panonia supposedly for help, proclaimed Theodosios Augustus, instead of Valens, named him emperor and sent him to war against the Goths.

τούτων δὲ οὕτω διατεθέντων, γνοὺς Γρατιανὸς ὁ Αὔγουστος, ἐν τῇ Πανονίᾳ κατερχόμενος ὡς πρὸς βοήθειαν ἀντὶ Οὐάλεντος ἐνέδυσε Θεοδόσιον Αὔγουστον καὶ ἀνηγόρευσε βασιλέα καὶ ἀπέστειλεν εἰς τὸν κατὰ τῶν Γότθων πόλεμον.¹⁰⁶

Zonaras:

And Gratian, being aware that he would not be able to manage such power by himself, proclaimed Theodosios emperor of New Rome […]

καὶ συνιδὼν ὡς οὐχ οἷός τ’ ἂν εἴη αὐτὸς μόνος τὴν τοσαύτην ἰθύνειν ἀρχήν, βασιλέα τῆς νέας Ῥώμης ἀναγορεύει τὸν Θεοδόσιον […]¹⁰⁷

As is apparent from these cases, Zonaras would sometimes replace the name of Constantinople, found in Theophanes’ text, with ‘New Rome’ (example 1). He would also insert the characterization ‘New Rome’ into his account, even if the name of the capital did not appear in the corresponding segment of Theophanes (examples 2 and 3).¹⁰⁸ A particularly interesting point is that these amendments are made in connection with the Byzantine imperial throne or the patriarchal throne of Constantinople. ‘New Rome’ was part of the official, full title of the patriarch of Constantinople: ‘Archbishop of Constantinople, New Rome and Oecumenical Patriarch’ (‘ἀρχιεπίσκοπος Κωνσταντινουπόλεως Νέας Ῥώμης καὶ οἰκουμενικὸς πατριάρχης’).¹⁰⁹ In the first example, Theophanes uses an abbreviated form of the title, saying simply ‘the throne of Constantinople’. Zonaras, too, does not write the full title to refer to the throne of Constantinople in either of the first two examples; it is characteristic, however, that in both cases he prefers using the second part of the official title, rather than the first: ‘the throne of New Rome’. By making these amendments to the narrative of Theophanes—by replacing ‘Constantinople’ with ‘New Rome’ and by inserting ‘New Rome’ into his text—Zonaras is clearly trying to highlight the historical ties of the imperial office and the patriarchal see of Constantinople with the capital of the ancient Roman Empire, perhaps in the face of the Western rulers who claimed for themselves the title of the Roman Emperor and the papal claims to primacy over the Patriarchate of Constantinople.

Noteworthy, too, is the keen interest Zonaras maintains particularly in the Roman Republic and its institutions. This is manifest in the proem of the Epitome, where he declares that he will report ‘what consulship was a long time ago, what dictatorship was, what the work of the censors was and what the term of office for each of these posts was’ (‘τίς μὲν ἡ ὑπατεία τὸ παλαιὸν ἦν, τίς δὲ ἡ δικτατωρία, τί δ’ ἦν τὸ ἔργον τῶν τιμητῶν, καὶ πόσος ὥριστο χρόνος ἑκάστῃ τῶν ἀρχῶν τουτωνί’).¹¹⁰ Indeed, when his narrative reaches the period of the establishment of the Roman Republic, the author provides a thorough analysis of the republican institutions, describing the role of dictators, consuls, and censors.¹¹¹ In all probability, the material about the institutions of the Roman Republic derives from Cassius Dio, although the corresponding sections of Dio’s work have not come down to us.

An important question to ask is why the chronicler dedicated a large part of his work to the Roman Republic. As has already been noted, although Republican Rome was an integral part of Roman history, most Byzantine chroniclers would discuss this period only very briefly. A notable exception seems to have been John of Antioch. So far as we can tell from the material collected by Constantine Porphyrogennetos in his Excerpta de insidiis and Excerpta de virtutibus, John’s chronicle discussed Republican Rome extensively. Psellos, too, did not skip the entire Republican period in his Historia Syntomos. Zonaras, nevertheless, clearly marks a break from the Byzantine chronographic tradition, because he gives a more thorough and more detailed account of the Roman Republic than any other chronicler we know.¹¹²

Reaching the destruction of Carthage in 146 bc and the battle of Corinth in the same year, Zonaras regrets that he cannot continue with his account of the Late Roman Republic because he cannot find sources for this period. As was noted in Chapter 2, he did not have at his disposal the relevant books of Dio’s history.¹¹³ The chronicler says: ‘Let no one accuse me that I omitted these things on account of contempt or laziness or indolence and that I left my composition somewhat incomplete. For it was not due to indolence that I overlooked the things that are missing. Nor did I willingly leave my work half-complete […]’ (‘μή μέ τις αἰτιῷτο ὡς ἢ καταφρονήσει ἢ ῥᾳθυμίᾳ ἢ ὄκνῳ ταῦτα παρελθόντα καὶ ἀτελὲς οἷον εἰακότα τὸ σύγγραμμα. οὐ γὰρ ῥᾳστώνῃ μοι τὰ λείποντα παρεώραται, οὐδ’ ἡμιτελὲς ἑκὼν τὸ πόνημα καταλέλοιπα […]’).¹¹⁴ The statements ‘ἀτελὲς σύγγραμμα’ and ‘ἡμιτελὲς πόνημα’ indicate the manner in which the author viewed his work without a full account of the Roman Republic; for Zonaras, the Epitome clearly lacked an essential part of Roman history. Why is this?

Aside from the broader aim of the work, namely to give a compact account of important historical events,¹¹⁵ the Epitome also had a much more specific purpose, one for which an analysis of Republican Rome was required: Zonaras aimed to demonstrate the development of the Roman political constitutions over time. The author, as a megas droungarios and a protasekretis, might have been prompted to investigate the forms of Roman government partly by his interest in jurisprudence.¹¹⁶ Zonaras himself explicitly states this goal of his work in his proem, where he analyses in detail how Roman constitutions evolved.

Since I recalled the history of the Romans and the history of Rome, I thought it was necessary to write about those and record where the Roman nation comes from, where it originates from and by whom the region of Italy was inhabited a long time ago. And whence Romulus, he who became the founder of Rome, was brought to light, and how Romus, his brother, was killed and later how Romulus, too, was gone. And how at first this city was ruled by a king and what kind of customs and laws Romans used. And how Tarquinius Superbus changed kingship to tyranny and was ousted from power, and how many and what kind of wars Rome suffered because of his deposition. And how the Roman state was transformed into an aristocracy and then into a republic, with consuls, dictators and tribunes being in charge of public affairs […] and how later the Roman state became a monarchy. And that Gaius Julius Caesar was the first monarch, although not overtly […]

Ῥωμαίων δὲ καὶ τῆς Ῥώμης μνησθείσης τῆς ἱστορίας, ἀναγκαῖόν μοι ἐνομίσθη καὶ περὶ τούτων συγγράψασθαι, καὶ παραδοῦναι πόθεν τὸ τῶν Ῥωμαίων ἔθνος κἀκ τίνος ἔσχηκε τὴν ἀρχήν, καὶ παρὰ τίνων ἡ τῆς Ἰταλίας χώρα πρῴην κατῴκιστο· ὅθεν τε προήχθη Ῥωμύλος εἰς φῶς ὁ τῆς Ῥώμης γενόμενος οἰκιστής, καὶ ὅπως ἀνῃρέθη Ῥῶμος ὁ ἀδελφὸς αὐτοῦ, εἶτα κἀκεῖνος ἐγένετο ἀφανής·καὶ ὅπως πρῶτον ἡ πόλις αὕτη ἐβασιλεύθη, καὶ ἔθεσιν οἵοις καὶ νομίμοις ἐχρήσατο· καὶ ὡς εἰς τυραννίδα τὴν βασιλείαν ὁ Σούπερβος Ταρκύνιος μεταγαγὼν καθῃρέθη, καὶ ὅσους πολέμους καὶ οἵους ἡ Ῥώμη διὰ τὴν ἐκείνου καθαίρεσιν ἤνεγκε· καὶ ὡς εἰς ἀριστοκρατίαν, εἶτα καὶ δημοκρατίαν μετηνέχθη Ῥωμαίοις τὰ πράγματα, ὑπάτων καὶ δικτατόρων, εἶτα καὶ δημάρχων τὴν τῶν κοινῶν ποιουμένων διοίκησιν· […] καὶ ὅπως ὕστερον ἐκ τούτων εἰς μοναρχίαν ἡ ἀρχὴ τοῖς Ῥωμαίοις μετέπεσε· καὶ ὡς πρῶτος ταύτης, εἰ καὶ μὴ καθαρῶς, ὁ Γάϊος Ἰούλιος Καῖσαρ μετεποιήσατo […]¹¹⁷

According to Zonaras, it was necessary to write about the evolution of the Roman political system in his work. Therefore, he devotes a considerable part of his proem—around two pages of printed text—to a timeline of constitutional changes since the foundation of Rome. He also mentions the political figures that mark the changes from one form of government to the next (Romulus, Tarquinius Superbus, and Julius Caesar). The emphasis he places on the constitutional history of the Roman Empire at the very beginning of his text indicates that it plays a central thematic role in his project.

The writer reiterates the aim of his work elsewhere. For example, when he concludes his account of Jewish history and is about to introduce Roman antiquities into his work, he says:

Since I mentioned the history of Romans and recorded the history for them in terms of [their] invincible state, I thought it was necessary to tell and teach or remind those who read this work who the Romans are […] and also how the Roman state, initially a kingship, was transformed into an aristocracy, namely a series of dictatorships and consulships, and hereafter turned into a republic and later became a monarchy again.

Ῥωμαίων δὲ μνησθείσης τῆς ἱστορίας καὶ τούτοις κράτος ἀναθεμένης ἀήττητον, ἀναγκαῖον πάντως εἰπεῖν καὶ διδάξαι ἢ ἀναμνῆσαι τοὺς ἐντευξομένους τούτῳ δὴ τῷ συγγράμματι, τίνες τε οἱ Ῥωμαῖοι […] καὶ ὅπως (τὸ κράτος) βασιλευθὲν ἐξ ἀρχῆς εἰς ἀριστοκρατίαν ἤτοι δικτατωρίας καὶ ὑπατείας μετέπεσε, καὶ εἰς δημοκρατίαν αὖθις μετήνεκτο, εἶτα εἰς μοναρχίαν ἐπανελήλυθεν.¹¹⁸

Opening the Roman section of the Epitome, the chronicler wishes to remind his audience about a prominent theme introduced in his proem, the development of the Roman polity. The statement ‘διδάξαι ἢ ἀναμνῆσαι τοὺς ἐντευξομένους’ illustrates that the author considers the transformation of Roman government to be a theme of a didactic character; he believes that knowledge of Rome’s constitutional history is beneficial to his audience. Later on, the scarcity of sources forces Zonaras to pass over the late Republican period, thus creating a gap in his presentation of Roman political history. For this reason, he sees fit to stress once more that he is interested in showing to his readers how the political system of Rome was transformed from a kingship into a republic, and then into a monarchy.¹¹⁹ An account of Rome’s constitutional changes is also found in Zonaras’ extensive treatment of the apocalyptic material in the biblical Book of Daniel.¹²⁰ Commenting on the seventh chapter of Daniel, the chronicler uses the term ‘πολυειδὴς’ (‘of many kinds’) to refer to the Roman state, explaining in this way that the Empire has seen various forms of government since its foundation.¹²¹ Zonaras briefly summarizes the evolution of the political system in Rome at the beginning of his account of the First Triumvirate as well.¹²²

These observations allow for a better appreciation of why Zonaras, unlike the majority of earlier chroniclers, wished to provide a detailed account of Republican Rome. The Republic was an essential part of the core project of his work: to make the gradual evolution of the Roman political constitutions clear to his audience. Although the Republican system of government did not conform to the Byzantine political state of affairs, a monarchy centred on the key figure of the emperor, Zonaras regarded the Roman Republic as an important part of the development of the political system of his own time. For him, a republic, as a form of government, did not seem as incomprehensible as it might have done to other Byzantine chroniclers.¹²³

It should be remembered that when Zonaras was writing, a form of democratic government had been established for some time in the Italian maritime cities. We may assume that increased contacts with Westerners would have brought an awareness of this among the twelfth-century literati of Constantinople. References, albeit sparse, to the democratic polities can be found in some twelfth-century authors.¹²⁴ Eustathios of Thessalonike, for instance, claimed that Venice was the only state of his time that preserved a democratic form of government.¹²⁵

Zonaras’ political reflections in his analysis of Daniel strongly suggest that he had a precise overall picture of the practical reality of Roman politics. His exegesis of the second chapter of Daniel (Daniel 2) demonstrates how aware he was of the defects of certain forms of government.¹²⁶ Daniel 2 narrates Nebuchadnezzar’s dream of a colossal figure whose head was made of gold, shoulders and arms of silver, waist of brass, and legs of iron and clay. The sequence of materials represented the historical succession of four empires. In the Christian exegetical tradition, the four empires were commonly identified as the Babylonian, the Persian, the Greek under Alexander the Great, and the Roman. The fourth empire, the Roman, was identified as the strongest of all, even though its foundation—represented by legs of iron and clay—was weak. This interpretation of Daniel’s prophecies had already been reflected in Josephus’ JA in the first century ad, and is clearly seen in later commentaries on Daniel, such as those produced by Hippolytus of Rome, Origen, and Theodoret of Cyrrhus.¹²⁷

For his narrative of Nebuchadnezzar’s dream and Daniel’s interpretation of it, Zonaras mainly follows Josephus,¹²⁸ from whom he takes the term ‘statue’ (‘ἀνδριὰς’), instead of ‘image’ (‘εἰκὼν’), which we find in the biblical text, to denote the gigantic figure appearing in Nebuchadnezzar’s dream. To identify the empires, he is likely to have taken material from Theodoret. The most important part of Zonaras’ exegesis of Daniel 2 is the final section, which must have been original to the author. By making an extensive political digression, Zonaras presents the ‘flaws’ of certain political systems of Rome.¹²⁹ What stands out particularly is his presentation of Republican Rome and the negative opinion he expresses about the Roman people, ‘the crowd’ (‘τὸ πλῆθος’). In the context of the Roman Republic, the iron represents the senate, ‘because of the firmness of judgement’ (‘διὰ τὸ τῆς γνώμης στερέμνιον’), whereas the clay represents the crowd, to which the writer attributes a series of negative traits: vulgarity, lowliness, changeability, and weakness of mind. The author notes that the mob is easily misled and changes its mind, as can be seen throughout the history of the Empire. Discord, too, was among the major ‘defects’ of the republican system of government. The senate and the crowd would occasionally fall into dispute and revolts would occur as a result. From these observations, it can be inferred that Zonaras was ill-disposed towards the republican form of government. This was mainly because of the great power held by the masses, who could be easily manipulated and led astray.

According to the chronicler, moreover, when monarchy was established, Rome experienced periods of internal discord due to civil wars, such as those between Julius Caesar and Pompey, and between Augustus and Mark Antony. Referring to the reign of later emperors, the author says the Roman Empire was stronger in certain places, but weaker in others. He regrets that the Byzantium of his time had lost many of the territories which had once belonged to the Empire. Zonaras’ political interpretation of Daniel 2 is unique among Byzantine chroniclers, and indeed among the Byzantine authors we know.

That the chronicler had a good overall understanding of Roman politics is also indicated by his attempt to describe the mechanisms of constitutional change, particularly the manner in which the Roman state was transformed from a republic into a monarchy. In the Late Republican Period, according to Zonaras, ‘the Roman polity was suffering, and Roman leaders verged on tyranny’ (‘ἐνόσει Ῥωμαίοις τὰ πράγματα, καὶ ἐπὶ τυραννίδα οἱ σφῶν ἀπέκλινον ἄρχοντες’).¹³⁰ Elsewhere in his narrative he explains that Romans did not allow dictators to hold their office for more than six months, because they could easily be enticed by power and seek to rule as monarchs. Zonaras believes that this is what happened with Caesar.¹³¹ A crucial point in Roman political history was when Antony and Augustus rose to power; it was then that Romans were deprived of their republic, although a monarchical form of government had not been officially established.¹³² The ‘genuine’ Roman monarchy, according to Zonaras, was inaugurated when Augustus defeated his rival and gained absolute control of the Empire.

What makes the chronicler’s account of this process particularly interesting is the language he uses. It is of great importance to him to make his readers understand the subtle difference between ‘a monarchy in disguise’ and ‘a genuine monarchy’.¹³³ This is also evidenced by Zonaras’ attempts to find the appropriate terminology to describe the forms of government operating during the lives of Caesar and Augustus. As can be seen in the extract from the proem quoted earlier,¹³⁴ the author uses ‘μὴ καθαρῶς’, an adverbial phrase he himself coined, to indicate that Caesar was essentially ruling as a monarch, although the Republic had not yet been abolished. This was an idiosyncratic form of government, ‘a monarchy in disguise’. Later in his prologue, Zonaras provides the opposite term, one which denotes ‘a genuine monarchy’, to refer to the form of government under Augustus. In particular, he says that ‘in this manner Octavius returned to Rome with splendid triumphs, gained sole rule and transformed rulership of the Romans into a genuine monarchy’ (‘οὕτω μετ’ ἐπινικίων λαμπρῶν εἰς τὴν Ῥώμην ἐπανελθὼν ὁ Ὀκτάβιος τῆς αὐταρχίας ἀντεποιήσατο καὶ εἰς ἀκριβῆ μοναρχίαν τὴν τῶν Ῥωμαίων ἡγεμονίαν μετήνεγκε’).¹³⁵ Unlike for the earlier period, the terminology used in this excerpt is not original to the author. The phrase ‘ἀκριβὴς μοναρχία’ is taken directly from Dio’s history, where it is similarly employed for the state in the age of Augustus. When Zonaras’ account reaches the time of Augustus, he quotes almost verbatim the section of Dio’s passage in which this phrase appears.¹³⁶

However, he occasionally tries to create his own political vocabulary. Let us look at how the two authors define the constitution in the time of Antony and Augustus.

Dio:

The Roman people were deprived of the republican form of government, but were not led to a genuine monarchy. Antony and Caesar ruled the political affairs as equals […] After that, when Sextus had passed away, the Armenian king had been caught, those who had carried on a war against Augustus were at rest and the Persian enemy was not causing any trouble, they openly turned against each other and people really became slaves.

Ὁ δὲ δῆμος ὁ τῶν Ῥωμαίων τῆς μὲν δημοκρατίας ἀφῄρητο, οὐ μέντοι καὶ ἐς μοναρχίαν ἀκριβῆ ἀπεκέκριτο, ἀλλ’ ὅ τε Ἀντώνιος καὶ ὁ Καῖσαρ ἐξ ἴσου ἔτι τὰ πράγματα εἶχον, […] Μετὰ δὲ δὴ τοῦτο, ὡς ὅ τε Σέξτος ἀπωλώλει καὶ ὁ Ἀρμένιος ἑαλώκει τά τε προσπολεμήσαντα τῷ Καίσαρι ἡσύχαζε καὶ ὁ Πάρθος οὐδὲν παρεκίνει, καὶ ἐκεῖνοι φανερῶς ἐπ’ ἀλλήλους ἐτράποντο καὶ ὁ δῆμος ἀκριβῶς ἐδουλώθη.¹³⁷

Zonaras:

The Romans were deprived of the republican form of government, but did not lapse into a manifest monarchy until Sextus passed away and the nations that had revolted were enslaved and the Persian enemy was not causing any trouble. For then Antony and Caesar openly turned against each other, and people really became slaves.

Οἱ μέντοι Ῥωμαῖοι τὴν μὲν δημοκρατίαν ἀφῄρηντο, οὐ μὴν καὶ εἰς φανερὰν μοναρχίαν κατώλισθον, ἕως ὅ τε Σέξτος ἀπώλετο καὶ τὰ ἐπαναστάντα ἔθνη δεδούλωτο καὶ ὁ Πάρθος οὐδὲν παρεκίνει. Τότε γὰρ φανερῶς ἐπ’ ἀλλήλους ὁ Ἀντώνιος καὶ ὁ Καῖσαρ ἐτράποντο, καὶ ὁ δῆμος ἀκριβῶς ἐδουλώθη.¹³⁸

Dio tells us that, although the republican form of government was lost to the Roman people, the rule of Anthony and Augustus was not ‘a genuine monarchy’ (‘μοναρχία ἀκριβὴς’). In his paraphrase of Dio’s text, Zonaras coins his own term, ‘a manifest monarchy’ (‘φανερὰ μοναρχία’). Although Zonaras’ term does not precisely render Dio’s meaning, the chronicler seems to have understood the overall context of his source very well, and might have used the adverb ‘φανερῶς’, found shortly after in Dio’s account, to create his own terminology.

The chronicler’s emphasis on the concept of a ‘genuine monarchy’, the type of government under Augustus, served a practical purpose: to account for the discrepancy in the duration of Augustus’ reign between Eusebios of Caesarea’s Church History, the main source of Zonaras for the history of the Church, and other historical works.¹³⁹ This discrepancy led to a second one in the dating of a significant event which occurred in this period—the birth of Christ. As Zonaras points out, Eusebios, his main source for ecclesiastical affairs, writes that Augustus reigned for fifty-seven years in total, counting from the year that he took the reins of the Roman Empire along with Antony. He thus dates Christ’s birth to the forty-second year of Augustus’ monarchy. Other authors, however, believe that the reign of Augustus began with the Battle of Actium in 31 bc, when he defeated Antony, and lasted for forty-four years. Zonaras inclines to the second view and accepts that only the years after Actium should count as the period when Augustus ‘truly reigned’ (‘ἀληθῶς ἐμονάρχησε’).¹⁴⁰ The chronicler, therefore, concludes that the birth of Christ occurred ‘in the twenty-ninth year of Caesar Augustus’ genuine monarchy’ (‘ἐν γοῦν τῷ εἰκοστῷ ἐνάτῳ τῆς ἀκριβοῦς μοναρχίας τοῦ Καίσαρος Αὐγούστου’).¹⁴¹ Here, Zonaras not only tries to explain what appears to be a contradiction between Church History and other works but also shows how crucial it is for authors to employ accurate terminology if they are to avoid causing confusion among their readers. Furthermore, this discrepancy in the duration of Augustus’ rule reflects an overall confusion among later writers about the gradual transition of the Roman state from a republic to a monarchy.

To conclude, all these observations illustrate that Zonaras’ prodigious interest in the Roman origins of Byzantium was a result of intellectual, cultural, and historical processes taking place in the eleventh and twelfth centuries. Unlike the majority of Byzantine chroniclers, Zonaras discussed Republican Rome in detail in order to fulfil his own authorial agenda, which was to stress the institutional continuity between contemporary Byzantium and Rome. Although an awareness of continuity with the Roman polity is commonly reflected in Byzantine literature, with Xiphilinos’ statement noted earlier a precise rendering of it,¹⁴² in Zonaras’ case, Byzantine continuity with the Roman tradition is a theme wholly integrated into his project.

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/9780192865106.003.0006

¹ Magdalino, ‘Kaiserkritik’, 343–4.

² Xiphilinos himself mentions in his text that the Epitome was composed during the reign of Michael Doukas: Xiphilinos, Epitome of Dio, 526.8–10 (chapter 87). For Xiphilinos’ treatment of Cassius Dio, see Millar, Study, 2–3, 195–203.

³ The proem of the text is preceded by a book epigram in which Attaleiates reports that the work was commissioned by the emperor Michael Doukas and was produced in the third year of his reign, in 1073: see Attaleiates, Πόνημα νομικὸν, 411.4–8. See also Krallis, Politics, xxi–iv; Wolska-Conus, ‘L’école’, 97–101.

⁴ Bernard, Poetry, 37–8, 127–8, 216–17, 243 and 247.

⁵ For an extensive analysis of the text, see Wolska-Conus, ‘L’école’, 79–97.

⁶ See, in particular, Ljubarskij, ‘Some Notes’.

⁷ Magdalino, ‘Kaiserkritik’, 343. See also Angold, History, 65.

⁸ Macrides and Magdalino, ‘Fourth Kingdom’, 121–2.

⁹ Markopoulos, ‘Antiquarianism’.

¹⁰ Kaldellis, ‘Equivalence’, 21; Kaldellis, Hellenism, 62; Krallis, ‘ “Democratic” Action’.

¹¹ For the latest edition of the Novel, see Novella constitutio saec. XI medii, ed. by A. Salač (Prague 1954). The Novel has come down to us in a codex unicus, the Vat. gr. 676 (ff. 280^v–292^v), which dates to the late eleventh century and contains John Mauropous’ works: see D. Bianconi, ‘ “Piccolo assaggio di abbondante fragranza”. Giovanni Mauropode e il Vat. gr. 676’, JÖB, 61 (2011), 89–103.

¹² S. Troiannos, ‘Η Νεαρά Κωνσταντίνου του Μονομάχου: ἐπὶ τῇ ἀναδείξει καὶ προβολῇ τοῦ διδασκάλου τῶν νόμων’, ByzSym, 22 (2012), 243–63, at 262.

¹³ M. Jeffreys, ‘Michael Psellos and the Monastery’, in The Letters of Psellos: Cultural Networks and Historical Realities, ed. by M. Jeffreys and M. Lauxtermann (Oxford, 2017), 42–58 (at 43) and 443–4 (‘Summaries’, excursus 17.3 and excursus 17.4); M. T. Fögen, ‘Modell und Mythos. Die Rechtsfakultäten von Konstantinopel, Neapel und Bologna im Mittelalter’, Rechtshistorisches Journal, 15 (1996), 181–204, at 185.

¹⁴ Kazhdan and Wharton-Epstein, Change, 122.

¹⁵ See Wolska-Conus, ‘L’école’, 13–31.

¹⁶ La Meditatio de nudis pactis, ed. by H. Monnier and G. Plato (Paris, 1915; repr. 1974). See also B. Stolte, ‘The Byzantine Law of Obligations’, in Obligations in Roman Law: Past, Present and Future, ed. by T. McGinn (Ann Arbor, 2012), 320–33, at 327–31; Wolska-Conus, ‘L’école’, 37–53.

¹⁷ Markopoulos, ‘Antiquarianism’, 291–2; N. Van der Wal, ‘Problèmes linguistiques recontrés par les jurists byzantins’, in Non Nova, Sed Nove: mélanges de civilization médiévale, ed. by M. Gosman and J. Van Os (Groningen, 1984), 279–83.

¹⁸ See p. 16 of this book.

¹⁹ Wolska-Conus, ‘L’école’, 79. As numerous of Psellos’ didactic and introductory works, the text is written in political verse and comprises 1406 verses: M. Jeffreys, ‘The Nature and Origins of Political Verse’, DOP, 28 (1974), 141–95, at 164–6.

²⁰ Psellos, Synopsis Legum, 124.7.

²¹ For example, see ibid., 127.95–128.108, 128.112–14.

²² See G. Weiss, Oströmische Beamte im Spiegel des Schriften des Michael Psellos (Munich, 1973), 284–302, which contains five edited treatises.

²³ Cresci, ‘Exempla’, 131–2.

²⁴ Psellos, Chronography, 31.7–8 (Βοοκ 3, chapter 2); Fourteen Byzantine Rulers: The Chronographia of Michael Psellus, trans. into English by E. Sewter (Harmondsworth, 1979), 39.

²⁵ Michael Psellos, Τοῦ αὐτοῦ ἐπιτάφιος εἰς τὸν μακαριώτατον πατριάρχην κῦρ Ἰωάννην τὸν Ξιφιλῖνον, in Michael Psellus Orationes funebres, ed. by I. Polemis (Berlin, 2014), 115–69, at 129.3–4 (chapter 11).

²⁶ Monomachos’ environment seems to have promoted the image of the philosopher-king for the emperor and his identification, particularly with Marcus Aurelius, was conducive to their aims: M. Angold, ‘Imperial Renewal and Orthodox Reaction: Byzantium in the 11th Century’, in New Constantines: The Rhythm of Imperial Renewal in Byzantium 4th–13th Centuries, ed. by P. Magdalino (Aldershot, 1994), 231–46, esp. 235.

²⁷ Psellos, Chronography, 35.17–35.21 (Book 3, chapter 8).

²⁸ Ibid., 294.8 (Book 7, chapter 180).

²⁹ Ibid., 294.10–13 (Book 7, chapter 180).

³⁰ Only the sixth-century antiquarian author John Lydos chose a similar starting point for his work On the Magistracies. This, however, is a work of a different character; it is a treatise focusing on the history of late Roman bureaucracy: John Lydos, Ioannes Lydus On Powers or the Magistracies of the Roman State, ed. by A. Bandy (Philadelphia, 1983). Unlike Psellos, Byzantine chroniclers would usually start their accounts with the Creation of the world.

³¹ In the Roman section, Zonaras begins his account with the arrival of Aeneas to Italy. The story of Romulus and Remus starts after approximately three pages of printed text in the edition of the Epitome we use.

³² Psellos, Historia Syntomos, 1–2 (title).

³³ Dželebdžić, ‘Ιστορία σύντομος’, 21.

³⁴ Jeffreys, ‘Attitudes’, 206–7.

³⁵ Scott, ‘Classical Tradition’, 68; Jeffreys, ‘Attitudes’, 207.

³⁶ Psellos, Historia Syntomos, 10.61–3.

³⁷ Ibid., 10.61.

³⁸ Ibid., 8.20–3.

³⁹ D. Dželebdžić, ‘H δημοκρατική Ρώμη στην πολιτική σκέψη του Μιχαήλ Ψελλού’, ZRVI, 42 (2005), 23–33.

⁴⁰ Xiphilinos, Epitome of Dio, 526.4–6 (chapter 87). See also Kaldellis, Hellenism, 63; Krallis, ‘ “Democratic” Action’, 49–50.

⁴¹ See p. 104 of this book.

⁴² Mallan, ‘Style’, 616–21. For the developments in the genre of historiography, see Markopoulos, ‘Narrative Historiography’.

⁴³ Kekaumenos, Strategikon ed. by M. D. Spadaro, in Raccomandazioni e consigli di un galantuomo (Alessandria, 1998), 44–242. For Kekaumenos’ use of Dio, see C. Roueché, ‘The Literary Background of Kekaumenos’, in Literacy, ed. by Holmes and Waring, 111–38, at 124–6.

⁴⁴ See, for instance, John Tzetzes, Ioannis Tzetzae historiae, ed. by P. Leone (Naples, 1968), verses 3, 87, 102, and 109.

⁴⁵ Lycophron, Lycophronis Alexandra, ed. by L. Mascialino (Leipzig, 1964). In his edition of Cassius Dio, Boissevain includes the corresponding sections of Tzetzes’ works.

⁴⁶ Angold, Church and Society, 179–96. For both Tzetzes’ and Eustathios’ treatment of Cassius Dio, see the introduction in vol. 1 of Dio’s Roman History, trans. into English by E. Cary (London, 1914–1927), xxiii.

⁴⁷ Numerous scholars have underlined the ‘superiority’ of Ponema Nomikon over Synopsis Legum. See, for example: S. Troiannos, Οι Πηγές του Βυζαντινού Δικαίου (Athens, 1999), 208; Kazhdan and Wharton-Epstein, Change, 146. It seems likely that Michael Doukas ordered a second juridical textbook because he was dissatisfied with Synopsis Legum presented to him by Psellos: Wolska-Conus, ‘L’école’, 97–8.

⁴⁸ Attaleiates, Πόνημα νομικὸν, 415 (proem).

⁴⁹ For Attaleiates’ account of the history of Roman law, see Attaleiates, Πόνημα νομικὸν, 415–16.

⁵⁰ The presentation of the material relies on the structure of the Basilika, although Attaleiates occasionally arranges the information in a different order than that found in his source: Wolska-Conus, ‘L’école’, 99.

⁵¹ For recent approaches to Attaleiates’ work, see A. Kaldellis, ‘Equivalence’; Krallis, Politics; Krallis, ‘ “Democratic” Action’; D. Krallis, ‘Attaleiates as a Reader of Psellos’, in Reading Michael Psellos, ed. by C. Barber and D. Jenkins (Leiden, 2006), 167–91; A. Markopoulos, ‘The Portrayal of the Male Figure in Michael Attaleiates’, in Η αυτοκρατορία σε κρίση (;): το Βυζάντιο τον 11^ο αιώνα (1025–1081), ed. by V. Blysidou (Athens, 2003), 215–30.

⁵² The comparison between Attaleiates’ contemporaries and their Roman ancestors can be found in Attaleiates, Historia, 149–52. For an extensive treatment of this subject, see Krallis, Politics, 192–9.

⁵³ Attaleiates, Historia, 150.

⁵⁴ See pp. 52–3 in this book.

⁵⁵ Attaleiates’ description of Nikephoros Phokas’ Roman ancestry is contained in Attaleiates, Historia, 167–71.

⁵⁶ Markopoulos, ‘Antiquarianism’, 289–90. According to Psellos, numerous writings about Nikephoros Phokas were circulating during that time: Psellos, Historia Syntomos, 98.82–5. Cf. J. Ljubarskij, ‘Nikephoros Phokas in Byzantine Historical Writings’, Byzantinoslavica, 54 (1993), 245–53.

⁵⁷ Attaleiates claims that Constantine the Great removed the most illustrious patricians and their families from Rome to the newly built city of Constantinople, and compares the Fabii and the Phokades with the roots and the branches of the same tree: Attaleiates, Historia, 167.20–168, 170.5–86.

⁵⁸ See Neville, Heroes; D. R. Reinsch, ‘Ο Νικηφόρος Βρυέννιος – ένας Μακεδόνας συγγραφέας’, in B’ ∆ιεθνές Συµπόσιο: Βυζαντινή Μακεδονία, Δίκαιο, Θεολογία, Φιλολογία (Thessalonike, 2003), 169–77.

⁵⁹ Neville, Heroes, 35.

⁶⁰ Bryennios, History, 147.7–15 (Book 2.3).

⁶¹ Neville, Heroes, 89–111. See also K. Paidas, ‘Issues of Social Gender in Nikephoros Bryennios’ Ὕλη Ἵστοριῶν’, BZ, 101 (2008), 737–49.

⁶² Neville, Heroes, 197.

⁶³ P. Roilos, Amphoteroglossia: A Poetics of the Twelfth-Century Medieval Greek Novel (Washington, 2005), 26–32.

⁶⁴ Cresci, ‘Exempla’, 119–30.

⁶⁵ Basilakes, Λόγος, 70.30–4.

⁶⁶ Ibid., 56.2–3.

⁶⁷ Ibid., 60.5 and 56.31 respectively.

⁶⁸ Ibid., 62.23–4.

⁶⁹ Ibid., 70.11. The Roman emperor Gratian was said to be a skilled huntsman. See, for instance, Ammianus Marcellinus, Rerum gestarum libri qui supersunt, ed. by W. Seyfarth, II (Stuttgart, 1999), 185.14–22.

⁷⁰ Scott, ‘Classical Tradition’, 71–2; John Kinnamos, Deeds, 7.

⁷¹ For Tzetzes’ treatment of Greek authors, see N. Wilson, Scholars of Byzantium (London, 1996), 190–6. For Basilakes, see Cresci, ‘Exempla’.

⁷² It is worth noting that although Dio was read by intellectuals for much of the Byzantine period, he was not a source used by early chroniclers such as John Malalas and the author of the Chronicon Paschale: Scott, ‘Classical Tradition’, 72–3.

⁷³ Macrides, ‘Perception of the Past’.

⁷⁴ Scholars have yet to reach a definite conclusion as to the date when the chrysobull was issued. It is traditionally dated to 1082: T. Madden, ‘The Chrysobull of Alexius I Comnenus to the Venetians: the Date and the Debate’, Journal of Medieval History, 28 (2002), 23–41, in which previous scholarship is summarized. Peter Frankopan, however, has argued for a date in 1092: Frankopan, ‘Chrysobull’.

⁷⁵ I trattati con Bisanzio, 992–1198, ed. by M. Pozza and G. Ravegnani (Venice, 1993), 68–87.

⁷⁶ For an extensive treatment of the privileges granted to Venice by Alexios, see Penna, Imperial Acts, 26–34; Nicol, Venice, 60–1; Lilie, Handel, 8–16, 50–68.

⁷⁷ Penna, Imperial Acts, 35–40; Nicol, Venice, 77–85; Lilie, Handel, 17–23.

⁷⁸ Penna, Imperial Acts, 40–4; Nicol, Venice, 86; Lilie, Handel, 23–4.

⁷⁹ For the privileges granted to Pisa by Alexios, see Penna, Imperial Acts, 101–14; Nicol, Venice, 75–6; Lilie, Handel, 68–76.

⁸⁰ A. Kazhdan, ‘Latins and Franks in Byzantium: Perception and Reality from the Eleventh to the Twelfth Century,’ in The Crusades, ed. by Laiou and Mottahedeh, 83–100; R. Lilie, Byzantium and the Crusader States, trans. into English by J. Morris and J. Ridings (Oxford, 1993) [original in German, Byzanz und die Kreuzfahrerstaaten (Munich, 1981)].

⁸¹ See Angold, History, 157–8.

⁸² Ibid. Also, for the letter of Alexios Komnenos to Robert of Flanders, which is translated into Latin, see Epistula Alexii I Komneni ad Robertum comitem Flandrum, ed. by H. Hagenmeyer, in Epistulae et chartae ad historiam primi belli sacri spectantes: die Kreuzzugsbriefe aus den Jahren 1088–1100 (Innsbruck, 1901), 130–6. According to Peter Frankopan, the letter, in the form in which it has come down to us today, is an extended version of the original document and was probably produced by a Westerner: Frankopan, First Crusade, 60–2.

⁸³ Modern scholars have been inclined to believe that the Franks of the First Crusade were essentially invited by Alexios himself to help him repel the Turkish threat and recover Asia Minor. See, for example, Frankopan, First Crusade, 71–100, which includes a thorough examination of the circumstances that led the emperor to ask for help from the West; J. Shepard, ‘Cross-Purposes: Alexius Comnenus and the First Crusade’, in The First Crusade: Origins and Impact, ed. by J. Phillips (Manchester, 1997), 107–29.

⁸⁴ A. Rodriguez Suarez, ‘From Greek into Latin: Western Scholars and Translators in Constantinople During the Reign of John II’, in John II Komnenos, ed. by Bucossi and Rodriguez Suarez, 91–109.

⁸⁵ The epilogue to Tzetzes’ Theogony, in which the extract discussed here is found, is edited by P. Agapitos in ‘John Tzetzes and the Blemish Examiners: A Byzantine Teacher on Schedography, Everyday Language and Writerly Disposition’, Medioevo Greco, 17 (2017), 1–57, esp. 41–2 (verses 766–800) for the passage under discussion.

⁸⁶ Tzetzes dedicates nine verses to the Latin language, while other languages are described in between three and six verses each.

⁸⁷ For some aspects of this, see Ciggaar, Travellers, 98–9.

⁸⁸ The construction of more than one church using the Latin rite by the middle of the century is an indication that there was a well-established and organized Western presence in the capital at that time: R. Lilie, ‘Die lateinische Kirche in der Romania vor dem Vierten Kreuzzug’, BZ, 82 (1989), 202–20. In the absence of reliable sources, it is not easy for us to estimate the actual number of Franks residing permanently in Constantinople during this time. It is generally agreed, for instance, that the Venetian population transmitted by contemporary Venetian sources for the year 1171—larger than 10,000—seems implausible: Nicol, Venice, 88; P. Schreiner, ‘Untersuchungen zu den Niederlassungen westlicher Kaufleute im Byzantinischen Reich des 11. und 12. Jahrhunderts’, Byzantinische Forschungen, 7 (1979), 175–91, at 182. Nevertheless, such figures may reflect the increasing influx of Latins to Constantinople over the course of the twelfth century.

⁸⁹ For these subjects, see pp. 87–94 of this book.

⁹⁰ Epitome, II, 261.10–3, 299.10–1.

⁹¹ For example, see Ibid., 286.7, 299.5, 300.15, 442.1. The noun used by Zonaras for ‘king’ is ‘ῥήξ’.

⁹² Angold, Church and Society, 512. According to Kaldellis, the twelfth-century attachment to Greek past is a reaction to a broader cultural diversity which characterized contemporary Byzantine society: Kaldellis, Hellenism, 293.

⁹³ For Theodore Prodromos, see R. Beaton, ‘The Rhetoric of Poverty: The Lives and Opinions of Theodore Prodromos’, BMGS, 11 (1987), 1–28; A. Kazhdan, ‘Theodore Prodromus: A Reappraisal’, in Kazhdan and Franklin, Studies, 87–114. For Manganeios Prodromos, see pp. 70–1 (footnote32).

⁹⁴ See, for instance, Theodore Prodromos, Εἰς τὴν ἐπὶ τῇ ἁλώσει τῆς Κασταμόνος…(poem 4), in Theodore Prodromos, Historische Gedichte, verses 11 and 77; Theodore Prodromos, Ἔκφρασις διὰ στίχων ἡρωικῶν τῆς ἐπὶ τῇ ἁλώσει τῆς Κασταμόνος προελεύσεως…(poem 6), in Theodore Prodromos, Historische Gedichte, verse 18; Theodore Prodromos, Τῷ μεγαλονίκῳ πορφυρογεννήτῳ καὶ βασιλεῖ κυρῷ Ἰωάννῃ τῷ Κομνηνῷ... (poem 12), in Theodore Prodromos, Historische Gedichte, verse 7. For Manganeios, see Manganeios Prodromos, Ἕτερος λόγος εὐχαριστήριος εἰς τὸν αὐτὸν αὐτοκράτορα…, in De Manganis, verse 43; Manganeios Prodromos, Τοῦ αὐτοῦ εἰς τὸν αὐτὸν αὐτοκράτορα ἐπὶ τῇ δωρεᾷ τοῦ ἐν τοῖς Μαγγάνοις ἀδελφάτου, in De Manganis, verse 140.

⁹⁵ This is nicely condensed, for example, in the following verses by Theodore Prodromos:

Second Rome queen, New Rome, most honoured, / Rome superior in power to Elder Rome, / even if you follow and come second in time… (Ῥώμη δευτέρα βασιλίς, Ῥώμη κυδίστη νέα, / Ῥώμη προτέρα κατ’ ἰσχὺν τῆς πρεσβυτέρας Ῥώμης / κἂν ὑστερίζῃς χρονικῶς αὐτὴν καὶ δευτερεύῃς…) See Theodore Prodromos, Τῷ βασιλεῖ μετὰ τὴν αὐτοῦ ἐξέλευσιν ἐν τῷ Λωπαδίῳ διάγοντι (poem 18), in Theodore Prodromos, Historische Gedichte, verses 97–9.

⁹⁶ For these points, see Jeffreys, ‘Comnenian Background’.

⁹⁷ See Theodore Prodromos, Εἰσιτήριοι ἐπὶ τῇ νυμφευθείσῃ ἐξ Ἀλαμανῶν τῷ πορφυρογεννήτῳ κῦρ Μανουὴλ καὶ σεβαστοκράτορι, in Theodore Prodromos, Historische Gedichte, 320–1.

⁹⁸ The Epithalamion written by Manganeios has been edited by Carl Neumann in Griechische Geschichtsschreiber, 65–8. Neumann mistakenly attributes the poem to Theodore Prodromos. See also E. and M. Jeffreys, ‘Literary Reactions’, 114–15.

⁹⁹ See Manganeios Prodromos, Epithalamion, 67.61.

¹⁰⁰ Ciggaar, Travellers, 23; Jeffreys, ‘Comnenian Background’, 472.

¹⁰¹ See, for example, Epitome, III, 19.5, 56.17, 119.9, 124.5, 221.4, 298.15.

¹⁰² Theophanes, Chronographia, I, 42.22–5.

¹⁰³ Epitome, III, 58.1–3.

¹⁰⁴ Theophanes, Chronographia, I, 58.18–19.

¹⁰⁵ Epitome, III, 74.8–10.

¹⁰⁶ Theophanes, Chronographia, I, 65.28–66.2.

¹⁰⁷ Epitome, III, 84.9–11.

¹⁰⁸ See also Theophanes, Chronographia, I, 75.19–26 and Epitome, III, 95.1–3 for another comparative example.

¹⁰⁹ The full title of the patriarch of Constantinople is often inscribed on the seals of particular patriarchs: see, for example, J. Nesbitt, Catalogue of Byzantine Seals at Dumbarton Oaks and in the Fogg Museum of Art, Volume 6: Emperors, Patriarchs of Constantinople, Addenda (Washington, 2009), no. 116.1 (the seal of Sergios II) and no. 118.2 (the seal of John VIII Xiphilinos). Also, the full form of the title appears in the Register of the Patriarchate of Constantinople, a collection of documents dated from 1315 to 1402 which were preserved in the chancery of the Patriarchate of Constantinople: see, for instance, the titles of the patriarchs in Das Register des Patriarchats von Konstantinopel, Edition und Übersetzung der Urkunden aus den Jahren 1315–1331, vol. 1, ed. by H. Hunger and O. Kresten (Vienna, 1981), document no. 80 (the patriarch Isaiah), document no. 109 and document no. 148 (the patriarch John XII Glykys).

¹¹⁰ Epitome, I, 13.1–3.

¹¹¹ Epitome, II, 50–1, 69–72.

¹¹² Zonaras’ extensive treatment of Republican Rome, his ‘unique contribution to Byzantine chronicle-writing’, has been underlined particularly by Macrides: Macrides and Magdalino, ‘Fourth Kingdom’, 126–31.

¹¹³ See p. 28 of this book.

¹¹⁴ Epitome, II, 297.14–17.

¹¹⁵ For a discussion of the broader purpose of the text, see p. 40 of this book.

¹¹⁶ See also Macrides and Magdalino, ‘Fourth Kingdom’, 131.

¹¹⁷ Epitome, I, 12.10–13.1, 12.6–8.

¹¹⁸ Ibid., 562.1–4, 562.8–11.

¹¹⁹ Epitome, II, 297.9–14.

¹²⁰ Epitome, I, 212.14–214.2, 227.3–9.

¹²¹ Ibid., 227.3.

¹²² Epitome, II, 298.8–13.

¹²³ Scott, ‘Classical Tradition’, 68; Jeffreys, ‘Attitudes’, 207.

¹²⁴ Magdalino, ‘Kaiserkritik’, 333–5.

¹²⁵ Eustathios of Thessalonike, Exegesis, 226.1–227.20.

¹²⁶ Epitome, I, 209–14. Apart from the Epitome, references to Daniel are also present in Malalas, the Chronicon paschale, George the Synkellos and George the Monk, from whom Kedrenos draws information about Daniel for his own work. However, with the exception of the Chronicon paschale, where we find a detailed paraphrase only of the second chapter of Daniel, none of these chronicles offers such an extensive account of Daniel’s prophecies as the Epitome: G. Podskalsky, Byzantinische Reichseschatologie: die Periodisierung der Weltgeschichte in den vier Grossreichen (Daniel 2 und 7) und dem tausendjährigen Friedensreiche (Munich, 1972), 57–61. For aspects of the treatment of Daniel in Byzantium, see W. J. Van Bekkum, ‘Four Kingdoms Will Rule: Echoes of Apocalypticism and Political Reality in Late Antiquity and Medieval Judaism’, in Endzeiten: Eschatologie in den monotheistischen Weltreligionen, ed. by W. Brandes and F. Schmieder (New York, 2008), 101–18.

¹²⁷ For the Christian interpretations of Daniel, see the detailed analysis of J. Collins, Daniel: A Commentary on the Book of Daniel (Minneapolis, 1993), 112–17.

¹²⁸ Epitome, I, 209–12. Cf. Josephus, JA, II, 374–6 (Book 10, chapters 203–10). The characterization of the figure as ‘ἀνδριὰς’ can be found at 375.9–10 in the text of Josephus.

¹²⁹ Epitome, I, 212–14.

¹³⁰ Epitome, II, 298.16–299.1.

¹³¹ Ibid., 51.10–14.

¹³² Ibid., 391.19–23.

¹³³ Zonaras’ attention to correct vocabulary in general was stressed by Grigoriadis in his study of the Epitome’s linguistic aspects: Grigoriadis, Studies, 79–80.

¹³⁴ See p. 102 of this book.

¹³⁵ Epitome, I, 14.1–4.

¹³⁶ Epitome, II, 408.13–17. Cf. Dio, History, II, 379 (Book 52.1).

¹³⁷ Dio, History, II, 324.9–11, 324.14–17 (Book 50.1).

¹³⁸ Epitome, II, 391.19–23.

¹³⁹ Ibid., 431.12–432.21.

¹⁴⁰ Ibid., 431.19.

¹⁴¹ Ibid., 432.18–19.

¹⁴² See p. 89 of this book.