‘Pothos tes Philoktistou’: Anicia Juliana’s Architectural Narratology

Australian Association for Byzantine Studies Byzantina Australiensia 16

B YZANTINE N ARRATIVE Papers in Honour of Roger Scott

Edited by John Burke with Ursula Betka, Penelope Buckley, Kathleen Hay, Roger Scott & Andrew Stephenson

Melbourne 2006

© 2006 Australian Association for Byzantine Studies C/- Centre for Early Christian Studies Australian Catholic University P.O. Box 456 Virginia, Queensland 4014 Australia

ISSN ISBN-13 ISBN-10

0725-3079 978-1-876503-24-6 1-876503-24-6

Melbourne 2006 Cover design by Stephen Cole of the Graphic Design Unit, The Australian National University Design and layout by John Burke Printed by the University Printing Service, The Australian National University, Canberra ACT 0200, Australia Published and distributed by the Australian Association for Byzantine Studies Publication of this volume was assisted by a publication grant from the University of Melbourne. All papers in this publication have been refereed anonymously.

Geoffrey Nathan ‘Pothos tes Philoktistou’: Anicia Juliana’s Architectural Narratology Constantinople in the year 500 CE had enjoyed almost two centuries of constant growth, improvement and adornment. By the end of the fifth century the city had pretensions of being a true rival to Rome in its wealth and in the expression of that wealth. The cultural narrative found in the urban topography had shown its mark clearly: it was a world-class capital wherein the aristocracy and especially the imperial family sought to exceed the works of their ancestors. The city was a canvas, by no means virginal, yet one upon which the elite hoped to leave their signature. The triumph of Christianity by the end of the fourth century, supposedly through the enactment of Theodosius I, offered the impetus and the form of that competitive activity. More practically, Theodosius’ grandson, Theodosius II, built massive walls that had physically doubled the size of Constantinople. The New Rome was thus a half-empty city for much of the fifth century. So in the urbs and elsewhere commissioning public architecture, in particular Christian structures, became a legitimate expression of ancient noblesse oblige. The importance of using and redeploying classical art and architecture in new ways was a key component of these building programs.1 The emperor himself was of course the consummate patron of the arts, of building and of the general populace. It was from him that wealth and public benefits spun centrifugally in all directions. But if the emperor was at the centre, then the aristocracy of the Empire sought to wind its way inwards through the maze of power, prestige and political pitfalls. And as Craig Wright has recently noted in his magnificent book on the symbolic relationships among architecture, theology and music, mazes before the Renaissance were ‘unicursal’; that is, they provided a single, even if intricate, course to their centres.2 So, too, then did the aristocracy race along a single, often sinuous line towards power and prominence. The making of the post-classical Christian landscape, as Annabel Wharton has argued, was really a representation of a violent and competitive political struggle.3 One aristocrat extraordinarily close to the centre was the patrician Anicia Juliana.4 She had a formidable genealogy. Her father, Flavius Olybrius, was one of the last legitimate emperors of the West. His family, moreover, was from that

1. 2. 3. 4.

See most recently and thoroughly, S. Bassett, The Urban Image of Late Antique Constantinople (Cambridge 2004). C. Wright, The Maze and the Warrior: Symbols in Architecture, Theology, and Music (Cambridge Mass. 2001). A.J. Wharton, Refiguring the Post Classical City: Dura Europos, Jerash, Jerusalem and Ravenna (Cambridge 1995). On her life and her status as patricia, see J.R. Martindale, ed., The Prosopography of the Later Roman Empire, vol. 2 (Cambridge 1980) 635–6.

Byzantine Narrative. Papers in Honour of Roger Scott. Edited by J. Burke et al. (Melbourne 2006).

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hoary and most noble of noble gens, the Anicii.5 Her mother’s line was no less impressive: on both sides she descended from the Theodosian house. Hence, Anicia’s great-grandfather had been Theodosius II; her grandfather, Valentinian III. As such, by the early sixth century, she was one of the last survivors of a dynasty that lasted longer than any other save the Julio-Claudians. The wealth of her bloodline was matched by her worldly wealth. As Anicia’s building projects, literary commissions and egregious self-promotion all demonstrate, her resources during her life were apparently inexhaustible. She possessed a large and sumptuous house in the central Constantinianae district of the city. One scholar argued that she was, in fact, the wealthiest resident of the imperial capital, and certainly we know she possessed many houses with many servants.6 Indeed, part of her wealth permitted the monastery of St Sabas, to which she left a large legacy, to endure considerable tribulations and to survive to today as one of the oldest continuously inhabited religious houses.7 Admittedly, in her early days, Anicia had been a pawn in the political wranglings between East and West, between Roman and German. The Emperor Zeno had offered her hand in marriage as a peace offering to Theoderic in 4788 and, though refused, she was later married to another Germanic military man, Fl. Areobindus. But by the 490s she had clearly established herself as an independent and formidable figure. She bore the title patrikia in her own right, since her husband was never so honoured, and apparently used it to great effect. One of her first public acts was to secure the consulship for her son, Anicius Olybrius, in 491 — the first underage consul in almost fifty years. Her role in the practical politics of the Empire, both secular and religious, is also of some significance. When the people of the Eastern capital revolted against the Emperor Anastasius in 512, they offered the crown to Areobindus and Anicia, although the former fled the city.9 Significantly, the mob came to the house of Anicia to present the diadem. As a means of settling the affair, Anicia’s son was hastily wed to Irene, the niece of the Emperor. A popular prophecy 5.

6.

7.

8. 9.

See A. Momigliano, ‘Gli Anicii e la storiografia latina del VI sec. D. C.’ RendLinc: Atti dell’Accademia nazionale dei Lincei, Rendiconti. Classe di scienze morali, storiche e filologiche 8, Serie 9, 11–12 (1956) 279–97; rp. Secondo contributo alla storia degli studi classici (Roma 1960) 231–53. See slightly more recently, C. Capizzi, ‘Anicia Giuliana (462 ca–530 ca): Richerche sulla sua famiglia e la sua vita’ RSBN 5 (1968) 191–226. On her wealth, see most recently L. Brubaker, ‘The Vienna Dioskorides and Anicia Juliana’ Byzantine Garden Culture ed. A.R. Littlewood, H. Maguire & J. WolschkeBulmahn (Washington 2002) 189–214; cf. L. Brubaker, ‘Memories of Helena: Patterns in Imperial Female Matronage in the Fourth and Fifth Centuries’ Women, Men, and Eunuchs: Gender in Byzantium ed. L. James (London 1997) 52–75. On her household: Cyril of Skythopolis, Vita Sabae 69. Cyr. Skyth., Vita Sabae 68–9. Indeed, so close was the relationship between Sabas and Anicia that at her death Anicia’s eunuchs went to Sabas’ monastery to become monks. Malchus, frags. 15–17. The Chron. Pasch. a. 517 indicates 517, but see Marcellinus comes, 512 and Malal. (Dindorf 407); clearly the event occurred five years before.

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during the time claimed that an ‘Olibus’ would succeed to the throne, undoubtedly a not-so-oblique reference to Olybrius.10 Clearly, Anicia meant to secure the claim of her son on the throne, with herself one day as augusta. To paraphrase the famous Tacitean epigram concerning the Emperor Galba: ‘Capax imperii cum non imperasset’ — ‘She was thought capable of ruling since she had never ruled.’ 11 Finally, this exceptional woman was apparently deeply involved in ending the Acacian Schism between Constantinople and Rome in 519. As a devoted Chalcedonian she was a woman who had, according to surviving correspondence, considerable influence and diplomatic skills.12 The papal legates would not have had a hearing at Constantinople if not for her representations and patronage.13 It is in the context of this brief thumbnail sketch of her life14 that I want to turn to Anicia’s building projects and demonstrate how her euergetism was in fact a carefully constructed narrative of stone, outlining her orthodoxy and her imperial ambitions. The nature, timing and placement of her churches indicate a clear path through the maze of Byzantine politics. I want to make clear, too, that this brief analysis does not focus on the particular architectural qualities of the buildings in question, but on the political and religious symbolism within the changing landscape of a growing imperial capital. The Church of Mary Theotokos The first of her building projects about which we hear was dedicated to Mary Theotokos. The church’s exact location is unclear, although it is described as being built in the Honoratae district, probably a suburb of Constantinople in what became Pera (Galata; Fig. 71).15 Its location was undoubtedly carefully chosen: if at Pera, it would have commanded a magnificent view of the city and dominated the neighbourhood. Whether there was a deeper significance to its location is unknown, but it symbolically represents a work on the periphery of power, an entrance into the maze of politics. The only contemporary reference we have to the church itself comes from the Vienna Dioscorides manuscript, an exquisite and lushly illustrated medical text. The work was commissioned sometime in 512 or shortly thereafter, shortly after the construction of the church and has a miniature of Anicia [Fig. 72]. Around 10. P.J. Alexander, The Oracle of Baalbek: The Tiburtine Sibyl in Greek Dress. DOS 10

11. 12. 13.

14. 15.

(Washington 1967) 126, n. 15. Significantly, the oracle foretold that following Olibus’ good reign, the Antichrist would arise in the east. Tac., Hist 1:49. Coll. Avell. 164, 179, 198. C. Capizzi, Anicia Giuliana: la committente (c. 463–c. 528) (Milan 1997) 78–91 makes much of her role. B. Croke, however, takes a different view, suggesting limited involvement: B. Croke, ‘Justinian Under Justin: Reconfiguring a Reign’ (unpublished paper) 14–24. But even Croke notes her prominence: 18, 20. See Capizzi, La committente for a full, if somewhat problematic biography. On Honoratae’s location, see R. Cormack, Byzantine Art Oxford (2000) 41–3, and more recently Brubaker, ‘Vienna Dioskorides’.

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the inner portrait is a carefully written, although faded and partially legible inscription from the people of Honoratae thanking the gens Anicii — Anicia Juliana in particular — for building the community such a magnificent church. Theophanes, many centuries later, confirmed this story and presumably the building survived to his day.16 We have a second indirect reference to the church in an inscription found in a later building project of Juliana’s, the church of St Polyeuktos. An elegiac epigram, possibly written by Anicia herself, describes how the aristocrat had built many splendid temples before Polyeuktos. Given the lavish construction visible in some of her known building projects, we can assume that this first project was an attempt to establish her bona fides as a good patron. But apart from these vague references, the decision to build a church to the Mother of God was not politically or religiously neutral. The Theotokos cult, which blossomed in the East during the fifth century, had important implications for orthodoxy.17 Its symbolism implied Christ’s divine and human nature combined as one, thus undercutting the monophysitic position, but more significantly the diophysite stance of the Nestorians. Given the turbulent disagreements within the Eastern Church about these Christologies, Anicia’s first project was a loud declaration of the Chalcedonian credo, to say nothing of her own orthodoxy. There were imperial implications of the church dedicated to Mary, Mother of God, as well. It was dedicated sometime between 512 and 515, coming on the heels of the rebellion against Anastasius. Clearly the settlement between Anicia and the Emperor set her on course to be the mother of the next ruler. Theotokos expressed that new reality. But it was also a challenge to Anastasius, who had been a staunch monophysite prior to his accession, but was then forced to take a more nuanced stance as Emperor. Anicia could afford to be less flexible and it lent her legitimacy in the West and in important quarters in the East. The church thus was not simply a profession of her faith, but also of her intentions. Moreover, the portrait of Anicia in the Vienna Dioscorides manuscript tells us much about how the church was meant to be received. In the spandrels of the portrait, putti reminiscent of those we find in Pompeii are engaged in carpentry and stonemasonry. Anicia wears the gold-striated trabea, which not only distinguishes her as a patrician but also perhaps as a member of the imperial court in exile. Moreover, Anicia sits on the sella curulis, complete with purple cushion, and wears a diadem, symbols of her status and perhaps of her

16. Theophanes, Chronographia tr. C. Mango & R. Scott with the assistance of G.

Greatrex, The Chronicle of Theophanes Confessor: Byzantine and Near Eastern History AD 284–813 (Oxford 1997) AM 6005. Interestingly enough, it is Honoratoi, which perhaps implies that the area was no longer known by the same name by Theophanes’ death in 818. 17. See K.G. Holum, Theodosian Empresses: Women and Imperial Dominion in Late Antiquity (Berkeley 1982) 147–74, on the movement’s significance, especially within the context of constructing imperial female personae.

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authority.18 The virtues of Megalopsychia (Magnanimity) and Phronesis (Prudence) flank her. Did Anicia also mean to compare herself to Mary, as the bearer of the future emperor? It is not beyond possibility. Whatever else Anicia may have been, she was not subtle. The Church of St Euphemia Juliana’s hopes for the future were crushed in 518 at the death of Anastasius. The younger Olybrius did not come to the throne nor, if we are to believe those who recount the event, was he even in the running. Instead, the succession was an entirely internal struggle within the palace. The counts of the domestici, the scholarii and excubitores (i.e. Justin) were the only candidates mentioned.19 It is perhaps ironic, then, that some time near that date the church of St Euphemia was rededicated by Anicia in the imperial capital. Admittedly, it is not clear when the church was built, but it seems likely that it must have come after Theotokos. The centrality of the location, the apparent magnificence of the renovation, to say nothing of its cost, all suggest that it was a work that probably came some years after her first project.20 Although no direct evidence exists, I would place the date sometime towards the end of the second decade of the sixth century. There is indirect architectural evidence to support that the renovation project dates from this period.21 More significantly, there were political reasons that suggest a date shortly before or shortly after the accession of Justin, as I shall explain below. To begin, the church was centrally located in the Olybrius district, a region likely named for Anicia’s father, placed strategically near the Forum of Constantine, the Hippodrome and the imperial palace [Fig. 71]. Anicia had thus chosen a church that stood at the very heart of the public city. Moreover, its location made it a de facto beginning point for the mese, whose northern route when terminating at the walls of Constantinople also ended at the church of the Apostles. St Euphemia thus linked through a religious structure a political symmetry created by Constantine almost two centuries earlier. It also clearly enunciated an association with the first Christian emperor; tentative, it is true, but no more tentative than her own familial connections to the house of Constantine. 18. On the imperial implications of this image, see B. Kiilerich, ‘The Image of Anicia

Juliana in the Vienna Dioscurides: Flattery or Appropriation of Imperial Imagery?’ SOsl 76 (2001):169–90. 19. Malal. (Dindorf 410–11) offers the tradition that Justin was, in fact, supposed to support a candidate with the Grand Chamberlain’s money, but used it to gain support for himself. 20. But Capizzi, La committente 104, notes a possible seventh-century construction possibility. 21. M.J. Vickers notes that the bricks of St Polyeuktos, built between 524 and 527, bear stamps that date them to 511 and 518. ‘A “New” Capital from St Polyeuktos’ Excavations at Saraçhane in Istanbul ed. R.M. Harrison & J.W. Hayes (2 vols Princeton 1986) 2:213–16. Since there is a mix of brick stamps, it is possible that the 518 bricks come from another, earlier building project; to wit, Mary Theotokos and St Euphemia’s.

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The structure itself had originally been a palace of Theodosius II’s chamberlain and tutor, Antiochos, but the property had been confiscated by the Emperor in either 419 or 421 [Fig. 73].22 The hexagonal shape had been greatly expanded and the church’s design was one of a central space with many chapels. Indeed, the floor plan bears an interesting resemblance to the design of Anicia’s portrait in the Vienna Dioscorides manuscript [Fig. 74].23 Although Christian architects had been exploring designs other than the basilica, the work still represented an innovative shape and form. Its size and structure suggested intimacy, and yet the surviving six inscriptions implied a sumptuous and vivid space, one stating: ‘o{son a[strasin ajntiferivzein’ — ‘so that it rivals the stars.’ 24 Those inscriptions, preserved in the Anthologia Graeca, also explain the church’s origins. In beautiful hexameters, they describe Anicia’s pedigree as the church’s own: it was first built by her grandmother, Aelia Eudocia, then improved by her mother, Pulcheria, and finally enlarged by Anicia. The longest inscription notes that it was a house of the Trinity, built by another trinity. And like the fulfilment of prophecy with the coming of Christ, so too did Anicia fill St Euphemia’s destiny: ‘You no longer admire the glory of those who came before; not through their skill did they create a glory as great as that of Juliana, who through her labors outshone the able craft of her ancestors.’25 In beautifying the city, the church was meant to create multiple continuities. In sum, Anicia reinforced her own imperial pedigree and rights to the throne, but also created a physical and symbolic statement in the centre of political and religious authority. And in my view the end of the Acacian Schism in 519 was the most logical moment in which to tie symbol and substance together. It was a triumph of orthodoxy as well as a personal triumph for Anicia Juliana. What better indication of those victories than to renovate a church that could only be associated with orthodoxy, the religious unity of the church, her political ambitions and the justification of her ambitions? Just as her church unified the 22. For the date 419, Malal., (Dindorf 361); for 421, Zon. 13.22.14–16. Of some

significance is the latter’s account of Antiochos’ disgrace. Zonaras reports that the chamberlain was dismissed after Theodosius II’s marriage to Aelia Eudocia and that the eunuch was punished by being sent to serve as a priest at the church of St Euphemia in Chalcedon. If true, then the decision to rededicate the building to the same saint takes on a significant dimension. See also J. Bardill, ‘The Palace of Lausus and Nearby Monuments in Constantinople: A Topographical Study’ AJA 101 (1997) 67–95. 23. Τ. Diamandopoulos, ‘Eijkonografhvsei" buzantinwvn iatrikwv n ceirograv fwn’ Iatrikav buzantinav ceirovgrafa ed. H. Arhweiler (Athens 1995) 71–168 writes at some length on the symbolism of the portrait in relation to Solomon’s Temple, another building of some spiritual significance. Special thanks to Dr Vicky Panayotopoulou-Doulavera for finding this reference. 24. AnthGr 1.15 (tr. W.R. Paton). 25. AnthGr 1.17 (tr. W.R. Paton): Oujkevt i qaumavz ei" protevrwn klevo": ouj dia; tevcnh" eu\co" ejn ojyigovnoi" livpon a[speton, oJssavtiovn per ku'do" ∆Ioulianh'" pinutovfrono", h} cavrin e[rgwn ajrcegovnwn nivkhse nohvmata pavnsofa fwtw'n.

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religious and public monuments of Constantinople, so, too, did Anicia unify Eastern and Western Christendom. If there could be any doubt left as to Juliana’s use of religion to articulate her authority, the choice of a church dedicated to Euphemia could not have been more clear. The martyr’s acts, supposedly during the persecution of Decius, are not genuine, but they had become established tradition by the late fourth century at Chalcedon, Euphemia’s purported hometown. Her importance grew enormously and indeed reached a central place in Christian orthodoxy in the fifth century.26 The Council of Chalcedon, which condemned the monophysitic views of Eutychios, was held in her church. A purported miracle wherein the body of the Saint was found holding the tome of the orthodox view in her arms turned Euphemia into the great patron of orthodoxy and in fact a symbol of Chalcedonian orthodoxy. She was thereafter known as St Euphemia of the Canon. No doubt Justin’s accession as the church neared completion then must have come as an unpleasant irony to the now aging aristocrat. The Church of St Polyeuktos Finally, let me turn to Anicia’s ultimate work and the one for which she was best remembered in the city: the church of St Polyeuktos. It was another renovation, but one much grander than St Euphemia’s. Unlike the patrician’s previous building projects, the dates of this work are more certain, probably between 524 and 527.27 And as with St Euphemia, the church had been initially built by Juliana’s grandmother, Aelia Eudocia. I need not go into great detail on the architectural marvels and scale of the endeavour. Martin Harrison has written extensively of the church’s excavation and reconstruction, followed more recently by Jonathan Bardill, and clearly Anicia’s St Polyeuktos was an entirely new church from the one that had preceded it [Figs 75–6].28 It was, in fact, less a renovation than a nearly complete rebuilding of the church. As an extensive inscription notes: ‘She [Anicia] alone did violence to Time and surpassed the wisdom of renowned Solomon by raising a habitation for God.’ 29 And this was no mere conceit on the poet’s part: 26. For her significance, see F. Halkin, ed., Euphémie de Chalcedoine: Legendes

Byzantines. SubsHag 41 (Brussels 1965) and G. Greatrex & J. Bardill, ‘Antiochus the Praepositus: A Persian Eunuch at the Court of Theodosius II’ DOP 50 (1996) 171– 97. 27. See J. Bardill, ‘Brickstamps and the Date of St Polyeuktos’ BBBS 20 (1994) 67ff, where he argues for an earlier commencement date of construction, c.507–8. Harrison prefers the traditional 524–7 date. 28. R.M. Harrison, A Temple for Byzantium: The Discovery and Excavation of Anicia Juliana’s Palace-church in Istanbul (Austin 1989); cf. R.M. Harrison & J.W. Hayes, eds, Excavations at Saraçhane in Istanbul, n. 21 above. 29. AnthGr 1.10.47–9 (tr. W.R. Paton): … crovnon d∆ ejbihvsato mouvnh, kai; sofivhn parevlassen ajeidomevnou Solomw'no", nho;n ajnasthvsasa qehdovcon.

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Harrison has argued that Anicia had the church built to the Biblical specifications of Solomon’s Temple.30 Whether true or not, when St Polyeuktos was finished it was by far the grandest religious structure in Constantinople. Again, we read another inscription along an entablature flanking the nave: ‘What choir is sufficient to chant the work of Juliana, who after Constantine, the adorner of his Rome, and after the saintly golden light of Theodosius… accomplished in a few years a work worthy of her ancestors, and perhaps more worthy?’31 Anicia has once again cast herself teleologically as the rightful apex of the Theodosian line and its accomplishments. The church’s popularity during and after Anicia’s life was immediate and profound. It became not only the greatest church in Constantinople until Justinian’s Hagia Sophia, but also an important destination for pilgrims and for local processions. It even entered imperial symbolic space as well: the tenthcentury Book of Ceremonies notes that St Polyeuktos, along with Holy Apostles and the Charisios (or the Adrianople Gate), were the only fixed stations on the emperor’s triumphal route.32 In Anicia’s day, its location helped to further the connection spatially between Holy Apostles and Euphemia at the centre of authority, as well as to connect their two builders [Fig. 71]. Between Euphemia and Polyeuktos, Justinian must have found Anicia Juliana’s activities and wealth egregious. The church of Saints Sergios and Bakchos may have been a return volley at the patrician, a first attempt to redefine and reclaim the topographical narrative of the city.33 And indeed, Gregory of Tours related a tale wherein the young Emperor had tried to take the old lady’s fortune, ostensibly to cover the costs of his administration. Anicia had, in response, converted all her wealth into gold and affixed it to the ceiling of St Polyeuktos.34 She then invited Justinian to take what he wished. The Emperor went away stymied when he saw the great plaques of gold bolted to a church

30. Although Christine Milner has argued convincingly that Harrison was mistaken and

31.

32. 33.

34.

that in fact the specifications are closer to Ezekiel’s spiritual Temple, with obvious differences in significance: ‘The Image of the Rightful Ruler: Anicia Juliana’s Constantine Mosaic in the Church of Hagios Polyeuktos’ New Constantines: The Rhythm of Imperial Renewal in Byzantium, 4th–13th Centuries ed. P. Magdalino (Aldershot 1994) 73–82. AnthGr 1.10.42–7 (tr. W.R. Paton): Poi'o" ∆Ioulianh'" coro;" a[rkiov" ejstin ajevqloi", h} meta; Kwnstanti'non, eJh'" kosmhvt ora ÔRwvmh", kai; meta; Qeudosivou pagcruvseon iJero;n o[mma kai; meta; tossativwn progovnwn basilhivda rJivz an, a[xion h|" geneh'" kai; uJpevrteron h[nusen e[rgon eijn ojl ivgoi" ejt evessi, See C. Mango, ‘The Triumphal Way of Constantinople and the Golden Gate’ DOP 54 (2000) 173–88. See B. Croke, ‘Justinian, Theodora, and the Church of Saints Sergius and Bacchus’ (unpublished paper). Cf. J. Bardill, ‘The Church of Sts Sergius and Bacchus in Constantinople and the Monophysite Refugees’ DOP 53 (2000) 1–11 and C. Mango, ‘The Church of Sts Sergius and Bacchus Once Again’ BZ 68 (1975) 385–92. Gregory of Tours, Liber in gloria martyrum 103.

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which had been favourably compared to the temple of Solomon.35 Consequently, on completion of Hagia Sophia, the Emperor’s reference to surpassing Solomon was clearly a veiled yet pointed reference to Juliana’s own building project.36 Had the elderly patrikiva survived long into the reign of Justinian there might well have been greater contention between the two. But the date of the work raises an important question: was there a political purpose in building a church that had imperial ambitions when she and her family were for all intents and purposes out of the running? Different scholars have offered various explanations: Anne McClanan claimed it was Anicia illustrating the prerogatives of an imperial, even if she was not of the imperial family.37 Harrison has even suggested this was sour grapes on a grand scale.38 I would suggest that if these explanations are true, they are convenient truths. While both are possible, I think that Anicia’s rationale for building her greatest project is a bit more complex. Let us start with St Polyeuktos himself. He was a martyr like Euphemia, one who was tortured and executed in the reign of Valerian in 259. His was a story of conversion and martyrdom: he became a Christian for the sake of a friend, a soldier like himself. His story has a slightly stronger basis for being true than Euphemia’s, but it, too, has many fictive elements. And like Euphemia, the Saint became prominent in the fifth century and became associated with orthodoxy. Bishop Acacius of Melitene, the city in which the soldier-saint was slain, was an especial proponent of Polyeuktos. Acacius was also a prominent figure at the Council of Ephesus and a staunch supporter of the orthodox line. This helped to establish a long orthodox tradition connected to Polyeuktos. This is all consistent with Anicia’s interests, but such similarities do not get us closer to answering the question. But another interesting aspect of Polyeuktos’ sanctity is that he became the patron saint of vows and of treaties and also the punisher of those who perjure themselves. Gregory of Tours relates that this power was especially visible in Juliana’s church: For whosoever has, as often happens, committed some secret wrong and has been led under suspicion to this church, either, terrified by the power of the martyr, he straightaway confesses what he has committed, or if he lies, is forthwith struck down by divine punishment.39 The power of the Saint, then, was embodied in the church itself. This tale unsurprisingly comes in the same passage as Justinian’s failed attempt to take Anicia’s wealth. But there is a deeper issue here. In 512 Anicia had been 35. AnthGr 1.10.74–5. 36. Harrison, Temple 40. 37. A.L. McClanan, ‘The Empress Theodora and the Tradition of Women’s Patronage in

the Early Byzantine Empire’ The Cultural Patronage of Medieval Women ed. J.H. McCash (Athens Ga.1996) 50–72. 38. Harrison, Temple 36–40. 39. Greg. Tour., Glor. mart. 103: ‘Nam quicunque, ut assolet, occutum scelus admiserit, et data suspicione ad hoc perductus fuerit templum, aut statim quod admisit virtute Martyris perterritus confitetur, aut si perjuraverit, protinus ultione divina percellitur.’

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promised the throne through her husband, who refused it, and through her own son, whose marriage to Anastasius’ niece had come to naught. These were promises, especially the latter, that went unfulfilled. Taken in this light, I see the aristocrat’s decision to refurbish, enlarge and, indeed, place the church of St Polyeuktos in a class of building above any other in Constantinople as a prayer for the fulfilment of the vow that had been made to her a decade before. This motive is not as far-fetched as it sounds upon first hearing. Although Justinian had plans for his own succession, it is not inconceivable that Anicia held onto hers as well. As a parvenu, Justin was unpopular with the aristocracy.40 His heir had also made a marriage that did not endear his family to the elite. Moreover, Justinian’s partisanship towards the Blues circus faction led to widescale street violence in the mid-520s.41 Brian Croke convincingly makes the argument that Justinian’s status as presumptive heir was an attenuated thing.42 And of course, both Anicia and Justin vied to be seen as protectors of orthodoxy and uniters of the Church, a competition perhaps made more poignant by Justin’s problematic relationship with the Pope, to say nothing of that with his own Patriarch. It is perhaps significant that upon assuming the throne his wife, Lupicina, took the name Euphemia. There is a final important connection to be made in the rededication of Polyeuktos, which may also signify an ageing aristocrat’s hope. Garth Fowden has argued convincingly for the relationship between St Polyeuktos and narratives of Constantine’s conversion and aborted Iranian campaign.43 The Saint’s career as a soldier and his eastern roots were in part meant to rearticulate a tradition stressing Constantine’s baptism and his unfought war against Shapur as key defining moments of his reign, when religious triumph fused with political triumph. If Fowden is right, then Juliana, in rebuilding her grandmother’s church, may have been implying that her orthodoxy would eventually meet with political success. Of course, the irony is that Constantine was baptised near his death and had made little headway against Persia before passing away. Anicia was to be disappointed a final time in 527. She had played a dangerous propaganda game well — she kept her life and her property — but in the end her efforts did not materialise into political power. Her carefully chosen path to the centre of Constantinople’s political ‘maze’ had really been a dead end.

40. Prokopios, SH 7. 41. See A.D.E. Cameron, Circus Factions: Blues and Greens at Rome and Byzantium

(Oxford 1976) passim. 42. Croke, ‘Reconfiguring’. 43. G. Fowden, ‘Constantine, Silvester and the Church of St Polyeuctos in

Constantinople’ JRA 7 (1994) 274–84. Cf. more extensively, G. Fowden, ‘The Last Days of Constantine: Oppositional Versions and their Influences’ JRS 84 (1994) 146–70. Of perhaps greater significance are the Persian elements found in the architecture of the church; see L. Pasquini Vecchi, ‘La scultura di S. Polieucto: episodio saliente nel quadro della cultura artistica di Constantinopoli’ Byzantinistica, ser. seconda 1 (1999) 109–44.

Anicia Juliana’s Architectural Narratology

443

Ouroboros Anicia’s narrative of piety and power, however, taught the new Emperor valuable lessons. Harrison has perhaps unlocked the mystery of Justinian’s famous words about surpassing Solomon and is undoubtedly correct in his conclusion that Anicia Juliana sought to create a Christian church to rival the grandest structures of the Old Testament. But there was another dynastic dimension to the magnificence of St Sophia. It was, significantly, a reconstruction of a fifth-century church to St Sophia, built by Anicia’s own great-grandfather, Theodosius II. And Theodosius’ church was in fact a reconstruction of a fourth-century church built by the house of Constantine. By a pious act of mimesis, Justinian’s crowning architectural achievement fused the mystique of the Constantinian and Theodosian lines with his own less illustrious one. Just as Anicia had absorbed and augmented the prestige of her ancestors into her own, so, too, did Justinian wrest the mantle of imperium away from the now-deceased Anicia and, more to the point, from her descendants. It is perhaps significant that Anicia’s son, Olybrius, was exiled, probably at the start of Justinian’s reign, and later recalled in 533 shortly after the construction of Hagia Sophia had begun.44 Justinian did what Anicia could not: construct an imperial visual narrative that matched an imperial reality. All this being so, let me end by returning to Gregory of Tours’ tale of Justinian the Great and Anicia Juliana. The story did not end with a stymied Emperor leaving the Church empty-handed. As the implications of what the princess had done sank in, Anicia removed a magnificent emerald ring from her finger and gave it to the young ruler, saying, ‘Accept, most sacred Emperor, this tiny ring from my hand, for it is considered to be more valuable than this gold above.’ 45 Apocryphal or not, no one could have misinterpreted the implication of this act. Anicia Juliana had passed to her political opponent what she could not pass on to her heirs: an imperial legacy. Was she saving face or is this questionable story a half-delusional conceit of a woman who chose not to see reality? Hemingway perhaps best caught the sense of putting a good face on such awkward moments at the end of his novel of love and loss, The Sun Also Rises: ‘Isn’t it pretty to think it so?’ 46

44. Malal. (Dindorf 478). PLRE 795 suggests that Olybrius (3) was exiled because of the

Nika revolt in 532. 45. Greg. Tour., Glor. mart. 103: ‘Accipe, imperator sanctissime, hoc munisculum de

manu mea, quod supra pretium huius auri valere censetur.’ 46. Ernest Hemingway, The Sun Also Rises (New York 1926) 326.