PRIVATE LIFE IN THE IMPERIAL CIRCLE AND ITS DEPENDENCIES
While the diplomacy of Justinian and the strategy of Belisarius were
apparently dictated only by motives of state policy and military
expediency, there were private influences at work, which modified
considerably the execution of their projects. The feminine proclivities
and prejudices of Theodora and Antonina on more than one occasion
diverted both men from the course which their better judgment inclined
them to follow. Distinctive as were the characters of the Emperor and
his most renowned general, in the quality of uxoriousness their
similarity was complete. In order that the power exercised by the women
in question over the destinies of the Empire at critical periods may be
realized, it is necessary to refer to some domestic incidents which
exemplify the extent of their conjugal gynarchy.
When Belisarius and his wife set out for Africa they were accompanied by
a young Christian proselyte named Theodosius, whom they had affiliated
as their adopted son. Of this youth Antonina became intensely enamoured,
and succeeded in establishing an illicit intercourse with him, which was
obvious to every member of the household except her too trusting
husband. During their stay at Carthage Belisarius entered fortuitously a
remote chamber of the palace, where he surprised his wife in company
with Theodosius, whose dress was disordered in a manner which indicated
unmistakably the nature of their commerce. The general was about to
express himself indignantly, when Antonina, with perfect assurance,
explained: "I have just come here with this young man in order to hide
the most precious objects in our share of the booty from the cupidity of
the Emperor." Her husband stifled his suspicions and, blind to the
evidence of his senses, retired submissively, leaving the youth in the
act of adjusting his clothing so as to accord with the requirements of
decency.[580]
This intrigue went on, therefore, indefinitely, but at Syracuse a
slave-girl, named Macedonia, vengeful or indignant, revealed it in
precise terms to Belisarius, and produced two of her fellow-slaves to
corroborate her evidence. The general was convinced, and swore not to
betray his informants; and thereupon charged some of his military
intimates to make away with Theodosius. They, however, more solicitous
as to the favour of his wife, gave the paramour a warning in consequence
of which he fled to Ephesus.[581] At the same time Antonina managed to
persuade her husband that she had been calumniated, with the result that
he surrendered the three witnesses to her discretion. They perished by a
cruel death at the hands of their mistress, who killed them by torture,
and had their bodies thrown into the sea. In the next phase of the
intrigue we see Antonina in conflict with her son Photius, whose
animosity against Theodosius was such that the latter refused to return
to the embraces of his mistress unless he were expelled from the
household. This end was achieved by domestic persecution, and the
paramour was shortly afterwards reinstated with the connivance of
Belisarius himself. When the Master of Soldiers was sent into
Mesopotamia against Chosroes, Antonina, contrary to precedent, remained
at Constantinople to enjoy the society of her lover. Dreading, however,
the interference of her son, she plotted to encompass his death. In
self-defence he brought forward irrefragable evidence of the adulterous
life that his mother was leading, whereupon Belisarius engaged him by a
solemn compact to punish the enemy of his conjugal peace.[582] With this
design Antonina was summoned to join her husband, and consequently, as
had been foreseen, Theodosius betook himself to his retreat at Ephesus,
where he had attached himself to a religious fraternity. Photius
followed on and, having made himself master of his person, caused him to
be detained under strict surveillance.
It was in this year (541) that Chosroes undertook his expedition into
Lazica, thereby denuding Persia of his most effective troops. For an
enterprising Roman general the way lay open through the richest part of
Assyria to Ctesiphon, where were congregated the captives and spoils of
Antioch, within reach of a strategical march. But Belisarius could not
persuade himself to quit the vicinity of the frontier, intent as he was
on settling his relations with his wife; and on hearing of her approach
he retreated with his forces to a position which enabled her to join
him. Subsequent events in this connection now become merged in
occurrences which I have yet to relate.
Chosroes, on his side simultaneously, was beset with untoward
circumstances. Owing to the barren nature of Lazica his army was
ill provided with necessaries, and many of his soldiers had perished
through disease and want. A mutinous spirit became rife, and during
their retreat, hearing of the successes of Belisarius and Valerian, they
feared to be cut off in the rocky passes commanded by heights accessible
to a hostile force. The Shah was assailed with reproaches for having
entered unadvisedly on a war with a nation of so much political
competency, and he began to be alarmed for the security of his throne.
In this strait his good fortune had provided him with a remedy of a
peculiar kind, which emanated from the assumption and indiscretion of
the Byzantine Empress herself. Zaberganes, his most influential adviser,
had received a letter from Theodora, to whom he was personally known,
imploring him to incline his master to grant considerate terms of peace.
"Should you achieve this object," she added, "I can promise you a
splendid recompense on the part of my husband, who is absolutely
dependent on my advice." Having read this epistle Chosroes inquired of
his staff whether a state could be efficiently governed in which a woman
exercised such a preposterous ascendancy. They agreed unanimously that
such an adversary did not deserve to be considered seriously, and
acquitted the Shah of having acted rashly in embarking on a war with
them. Confident, therefore, in the imbecility of the Byzantines, they
resumed their march and soon arrived safely within the borders of their
own country.
So far in the course of my narrative we have often seen the names of
Theodora and Antonina coupled together, but merely in juxtaposition. As
I proceed in my attempt to elucidate the sequence of events we shall
arrive at a point of time when their lives actually become mingled. Some
retrogression, however, is necessary in order to enter on the political
track of Theodora nearer its beginning before we can reach those
entanglements in her secret machinations where concerted action between
the two women becomes apparent. I have already alluded cursorily to the
circumstances under which Queen Amalasuntha met her death,[583] but the
most effective cause of that crime was one which remained hidden from
the public. In addition to her royal descent, which was derived from a
long line of kingly ancestors, the Gothic queen was a woman of great
personal charm, of cultivated mind, and of an age scarcely exceeding
that of the Eastern Empress. Justinian was much impressed at the
prospect of a princess of her rank placing herself under his protection,
and he prepared a temporary establishment at Epidamnus, in a style
suitable to her dignity, in anticipation of her being obliged to fly
from the soil of Italy. Later on he expected to receive her at
Constantinople, where he doubtless intended that she should be housed
permanently in one of the palaces adjacent to the Court. This project,
so grateful to the Emperor, was viewed with more than equal abhorrence
by his consort. That Amalasuntha, pre-eminent by her birth, her talents,
and her beauty, would receive unremitting homage and admiration from
Justinian and his nobles, and eclipse the Empress in her own halls,
might be foreseen as an inevitable result of such an arrangement. While
this affair was under consideration, and might at any moment be
realized, another woman appeared on the scene, to whom the rivalry of
the Gothic queen was at once as odious as it threatened to become to
Theodora herself. Gudelina, the wife of Theodahad, participating in her
husband's elevation, assumed the attributes of royalty at the Court of
Ravenna, where she immediately found herself outshone by her brilliant
cousin, whose prerogatives and merits were so much superior to her own.
An instinctive alliance between the two women, the sting to whose
vanities was projected from the same source, was quickly formed. Letters
passed between them, cautiously expressed, but clear to the mind of
each; and Theodora infused some of her own determination into the mind
of the nominal queen in the West.[584] The details of the plot which
ensued are lost to us, and we can only see that the daughter of
Theodoric, probably without apprehensions as regards those for whom she
had been the author of fortune, was ensnared by a coalition of her foes,
and under some specious pretence deported from her own court. By this
consummation the Gothic clique might, perhaps, have been appeased; but
the Empress was no advocate of half measures, and when Peter departed on
his embassy to Ravenna he was intrusted by her with a secret mandate to
encompass the death of Amalasuntha. Instead, therefore, of acting on
behalf of Justinian, he obeyed Theodora, and through his insidious
counsels the unfortunate princess perished forthwith in her obscure
prison.[585]
Hitherto Theodora and Antonina had pursued their respective courses at a
distance from each other, but they were on convergent paths, which after
the outbreak of the Gothic war necessarily became united. Although she
had previously viewed her with dislike, the Empress now found that the
wife of Belisarius was the only congenial agent she could employ for the
furtherance of her underhand designs. Whether through policy or
prejudice, Theodora had always been a zealous partisan of the
Monophysite sect, and she was anxious to wring some concessions from the
Catholics, which should conduce to the union of Christendom. To promote
a willing instrument to the Papal chair was the leading move towards
this end; and as a first step Silverius had to be removed to make room
for such a pliable occupant. After the capture of Rome the opportunity
occurred, and the commission was given to Antonina. By her artifices the
Pope was accused of collusion with the Goths and banished to the lonely
isle of Palmaria. There shortly afterwards he ended his life at the
hands of an assassin suborned by the same intriguant. By her address and
success on this occasion Antonina conquered the favour of the Empress,
who for the future deigned to make use of her whenever some object had
to be attained by means of bold and deceitful assurance. Her skill in
such diplomacy was soon to be tested in a more delicate enterprise.
On his restoration to office after the Nika riot John of Cappadocia
attained to the summit of his power. He accumulated wealth to a
prodigious amount, and at length his mind became inflated by the
possession of vast resources to such an extent that he deemed nothing
less than the purple to be an adequate reward of his merit. He had
recourse to soothsayers, who predicted for him the highest fortune he
could desire; and he displayed himself to an expectant element of the
populace in dazzling apparel and surrounded by extraordinary state. To
publish his importance to the utmost he went on a progress through the
Orient, where he enthralled the vulgar by his magnificence, and appalled
the sober-minded by the unscrupulousness of his extortions. Having
fulfilled his purpose by this expedition, he returned to the capital,
and made a triumphal entry escorted, or rather borne along, by a pageant
of female nudity, thinly veiled by a diaphanous material which exposed
more than it concealed of their beauties.[586]
Notwithstanding his singular talents and versatility in devising
expedients, there was one relationship in which John showed himself to
be obtuse and indiscreet in the highest degree. Overpowered by his own
conceit, and feeling that the Emperor reposed unlimited confidence in
him, he was unable to appreciate the fact that Theodora exercised a
boundless dominion over her husband. He, therefore, not only neglected
to pay his court to the Empress, but, contemning and resenting her
interference in affairs, met her with a hostile countenance, and even
went so far as to asperse her in conversation with Justinian. Becoming
fully aware of his sentiments towards her, Theodora soon came to hate
him with an intensity she displayed towards no other member of the
bureaucracy. His ruin was long uppermost in her thoughts, and she sought
assiduously for some opportunity of killing him without incurring the
odium of the deed. On his side the Cappadocian was keenly perceptive of
the enmity he had kindled against himself in the breast of his Imperial
mistress, and lived in continual dread of her murderous intent. Although
he was encompassed by thousands of private guards, such as no Praetorian
Praefect had ever before maintained, and his palace was paraded by
wakeful sentinels every hour of the day and night, he was unable to
sleep without rising from time to time to explore with his eye every
passage leading to his bedchamber, fearful lest some barbarian might be
lurking in the dark ready at any instant to deal him his death-blow.
Such was the posture of affairs in relation to John until in the tenth
year of his magistracy the inevitable catastrophe befell him. It was in
541, when Belisarius left his wife behind him at Constantinople, that
Theodora unbosomed herself to her confidential friend, as that lady had
now become,[587] as to her grievances against the insolent Praefect. The
wile-weaving Antonina immediately evolved a plot to deliver her royal
mistress from her pet aversion. Euphemia, an only child, was the
daughter of the Cappadocian, and for her he cherished a deep affection.
In sympathy with her father, the girl abhorred the Empress as the source
of his disquietude; and would have welcomed eagerly a change of
sovereignty. Intuitively conscious of her sentiments, Antonina
approached Euphemia with blandishments, and, by professing a fellow
feeling, soon captured her confidence. She bewailed the lot of her
husband, whose magnificent services had been ill-requited by Justinian,
and simulated a demeanour of hopeless discontent. "But why, my dearest
friend," exclaimed the girl, "when you have the remedy in your own
hands, the devotion of the army, do you hesitate to redress your
wrongs?" "In the camp," replied the temptress, "we could do nothing
unless we had a powerful coadjutor in the capital; but, were your father
to join our party, we should doubtless effect what God wills with the
greatest ease." The Cappadocian was at once informed by his daughter of
all that had passed, and she expressed her belief in the sincerity of
Antonina with warm enthusiasm. He was captivated by the brilliant
suggestion, which seemed to him to signalize the providential fulfilment
of the prophecies on which he relied. He, therefore, instructed Euphemia
to prepare an interview between himself and Antonina for the following
day, but first to extract from her an oath, in the form most sacred to
the Christians, that she was acting in strict good faith. Antonina
perjured herself without hesitation in the most impressive manner,[588]
but represented that an immediate colloquy in the city would be
perilous. She, however, was about to join her husband in the East, and
would halt on her way at their suburban residence, where a meeting might
take place without arousing suspicion. Hence it was agreed that on a
certain date John should repair by night to the place indicated, where
mutual pledges could be given and their plans matured for execution.
Justinian was now quietly informed that John was engaged in a plot
against the throne, whereupon he ordered Narses, with a company of
guards, to be present at the meeting, in concealment. Should John be
overheard to utter anything treasonable, they were to rush in and cut
him down on the spot. At the same time, such was his attachment to the
man, he sent a secret emissary warning him to have no clandestine
relations with Antonina. The caution was, however, disregarded by the
ambitious conspirator; the interview took place, and he expressed his
intentions clearly in the hearing of the eunuch. He was attacked
forthwith by the soldiers, but his own guards, who had also been lying
in wait, flew to his assistance, and in the scuffle which ensued he made
his escape. Had he even now sought the presence of the Emperor he could
have saved his credit by some plausible explanation; but he acknowledged
his guilt by hastening to take sanctuary in a church, and thus gave
Theodora time to elaborate all her charges in due form.
A sentence of degradation and confiscation was now passed, and
John was banished to Cyzicus, where, under the Gospel name of Peter,
he was forcibly ordained as a cleric. A bishopric, however, he
declined—criminals of lofty rank in that age were punished by being made
bishops—still indulging himself in visions of restoration, and chose to
remain in the unattached orders of the ministry. Shortly, in fact, he
began to live in his old style of splendour, for Justinian had not
exacted a rigorous surrender of all his property, whilst he was also
able to draw on large reserves which he had hidden away. Nevertheless
further trials awaited him; an unpopular bishop of Cyzicus was murdered,
and he was accused of the deed. A commission of Senators repaired to the
place, and, although his innocence was proved, old charges of peculation
were raked up, and in the end he was stripped of everything, and turned
out as a mendicant with a single garment. He was then shipped to
Alexandria, where he was forced to beg his bread; again under some
pretence he was seized and imprisoned for three years; yet, while living
as a vagrant, he often had the audacity to try and raise money by
claiming arrearages from defaulting debtors of the treasury.[589]
We are now in a position to take up the thread of our narrative as
regards Belisarius, whom we left, in a state of mental distraction over
his wife's irregularities, in Mesopotamia. As soon as he came up with
her he placed her under guard in strict seclusion, divested of the
honours due to her rank, and began to prepare a process for the
severance of their relationship for the future. But he vacillated,
postponing any decisive step; and at length a will more powerful than
his own intervened to deprive him of all option in the matter. The news
of her confidant's disgrace was quickly carried to Theodora, and she
resolved that her right to do as she pleased should be vindicated in the
most complete and effectual manner. All her adversaries were arrested at
a single coup, and Belisarius was commanded peremptorily to make his
peace with his wife. Photius was seized and submitted to the torture,
but he kept his faith steadfastly, and refused to disclose where he had
sequestered Theodosius. Theodora, however, put her agents on his track,
and in no long time succeeded in unearthing him from his enforced
obscurity. Only after several years of suffering did Photius escape from
the prison he had been consigned to, and, making his way by secret paths
to Jerusalem, at last freed himself from persecution by becoming a
monk.[590]
In the autumn (541) the Master of Soldiers and his wife returned to
Constantinople, where the reception accorded to them at Court was in
conformity with their respective merits in the eyes of Theodora. At the
first convenient moment the Empress received her friend in private and
addressed her: "Dearest Patrician Lady, a jewel fell into my hands the
other day, the like of which no one ever saw before; but, if you wish to
see it, I shall be pleased to show it to you." Antonina begged
effusively to be permitted to see the treasure; when Theodora, passing
her hand behind a curtain which veiled the entrance to another
apartment, led out Theodosius and presented him to his mistress. The
raptures which ensued, and the expressions of gratitude bestowed by
Antonina on her benefactress, surpassed description; but the reunion of
the lovers was of brief duration. Theodosius, for whom the Empress was
meditating great honours, was shortly afterwards seized with a
dysentery, and disappeared from the ranks of the living.
Much deeper humiliation, however, was in store for Belisarius. Next
year, when he was absent with the army in the East, a report was spread
that the Emperor, resident in the plague-stricken capital, was himself
in the throes of a fatal attack of the malady. The question of the
throne becoming vacant was anxiously debated by the generals, and some
of them observed that, if the people of Constantinople proceeded to
elect a successor, he should not have the allegiance of the army.
Justinian, however, recovered unexpectedly, and the attitude adopted by
the military council was divulged at Court. Theodora was especially
enraged, as she assumed it to be part of her prerogative, in the case of
her husband's death, to nominate the next occupant of the throne.[591]
When the generals returned to Constantinople for the season, she
instituted an inquiry, and chose to see in Belisarius, though without
proof, the leader of the culprits. She denounced him in the bitterest
terms to the Emperor, who was doubtless only too pleased at finding a
pretext to subdue the excessive popularity of his eminent subordinate.
He was forthwith deprived of his post of General of the East; his
veteran guards, who had followed him into so many battles, were divided
into parcels and assigned to various magnates of the Court, and his
fortunes were seized for the benefit of the fisc. As a mere private
citizen he might be seen daily walking dejectedly alone between his
house and the Court, where he was viewed with neglect and disfavour, but
feared to absent himself lest a worse fate might befall him. In the
meantime Antonina enjoyed the highest favour with the Empress, whilst
the intercourse between husband and wife was of the coldest description.
For several weeks the great general languished in the abject condition
to which he had been reduced, although it appeared that his wife, being
possessed of such powerful interest, should be regarded as the arbiter
of his fate. On a certain day he left the palace, where he had been
treated with such contumely, even by minions of low grade, that on the
way home he glanced around involuntarily, fearful lest assassins should
be posted in some obscurity with a mandate to terminate his life. On his
arrival he threw himself on his couch, despairing of any alleviation of
his lot, while in an adjacent chamber he heard his wife's footsteps as
she walked to and fro restlessly, under the influence apparently of some
painful agitation. It was already dark when some one from without was
heard demanding admission, and shortly an emissary was announced as the
bearer of a despatch from the Empress. Belisarius shuddered and drew
himself up, anticipating him to be the messenger of death. A letter was
then presented to him, which he opened and read as follows: "You are not
ignorant, my good sir, as to what your conduct has been towards us. But
I am extremely indebted to your wife, and for her sake I pardon you, and
make her a present of your life; look upon her as your saviour, and
remember that our favour towards you in future shall be strictly
measured by the amiability of your disposition towards her." A sudden
revulsion of feeling was produced by the perusal of these words; he
rushed to his wife and knelt before her. He kissed her feet and
protested that he owed her everything; for the future she might call him
her slave, and he should never again claim to control her as a husband.
After this crisis Theodora dealt definitely with the fortune of
Belisarius, which he had amassed during his wars. His money and
valuables were estimated to amount to six thousand pounds of gold
(£240,000), and of this she made two portions—one half to be returned to
the owner, the other she presented to the Emperor. Jealous even of so
much wealth remaining in private hands, she now sought to cement a
marriage between a young relative of her own and Joannina, the only
child of Belisarius.[592]
The general now petitioned to be reinstated in his military rank, in
order that he might march against the Persians, but Antonina protested
that she would never again visit a country where she had been subjected
to such outrageous treatment. He was appointed, therefore, to the
equivocal position of Count of the Stables, which left the rulers of his
destiny the option of employing him on any opportune service.[593]
The sequels of two episodes related in a previous portion of this work
may form a fitting conclusion to the present chapter. The first concerns
the son of Theodora, who, as an infant, was apprehensively removed from
the custody of his mother. In the remote province of Arabia the child
grew up to manhood under the tutelage of his father, who watched with
interest the career of his former mistress, but without revealing to the
youth the secret of his birth. Being on his death-bed, however, he
thought it right to communicate to him all the details as to his origin.
After his father's decease, therefore, John set out for Constantinople,
expecting that his mother would recognize his claims and provide for him
accordingly. On his arrival he introduced himself among her servitors,
stating plainly who he was, and awaited her pleasure. But Theodora was
alarmed lest the knowledge of this amour and its result should come to
the ears of Justinian, and determined that all trace of it should be
effaced. Hence she received her son in strict privacy, and at once
commended him to the attention of certain satellites of hers, who were
generally regarded as the authors of unexplained disappearances. What
method of suppression was adopted remained uncertain, but, whether alive
or dead, nothing further was ever seen of this John.[594]
When Artabanes returned to Constantinople (546) after his signal
exploits at Carthage, he was received with great applause, and
immediately promoted to the rank of Master of Soldiers at Court. He was
much exalted by his good fortune, and especially at the prospect of
marrying the Emperor's niece, Prejecta, on whose account he had resigned
his independent vicegerency of Africa. With the acquiescence of all
parties, the brilliant nuptials were being prepared, when, at the last
moment, an unexpected obstacle intervened to shatter his impassioned
hopes. A wife of his youthful days, long since repudiated and forgotten,
still languished in his native land. In the times of his humble fortune
she was indifferent to the relationship, but, learning by report of her
husband's eminent success in the Byzantine service, she became eager to
enjoy the benefit of his advancement. Abandoning Armenia, therefore, she
arrived opportunely in the capital, and became informed of the projected
union which would exclude her for ever from his life. She presented
herself at the Palace with her sad story, and prayed for an audience of
the Empress. Theodora, who always evinced a lively desire to act as the
special providence of distressed women,[595] readily granted her
admission, and resolved to interfere on her behalf. She did so with her
usual effectivity, the imminent marriage was broken off, and the
unwilling Artabanes was forced to establish his rejected consort in her
conventional position as the head of his household. As for Prejecta, she
was shortly consoled with another partner, and became the wife of John,
son of the luckless Pompeius, who had perished more than a dozen years
before in the Nika rebellion. But Artabanes was so exasperated that he
was induced by some malcontents of his own nation to join a conspiracy
which had for its object the assassination of Justinian and the
elevation of Germanus to the throne.[596] The plot, however, was quickly
betrayed, and proved such a complete fiasco, that, after a commission of
the Senate had sat on the offenders and passed a nominal sentence, the
Emperor lost all interest in the matter.[597] Even Artabanes within a
twelvemonth was lifted out of his disgrace and given an active
appointment as Master of the Forces in Thrace.[598]
[580] Procopius, Anecd., 1. Except where indicated, nearly the whole of
this chapter depends on the first four sections of this work.
[581] On this occasion Constantine, a sub-general, who has been
mentioned (pp. 564, 567), remarked: "I should rather have got rid of the
woman than of the young man." During the siege of Rome by the Goths this
Constantine was summoned before Belisarius on a charge of appropriating
some valuable spoils. An altercation ensued, and the offender,
concluding rather hastily that he was about to be condemned to death,
made a rush at the Master of Soldiers with his drawn sword. He was
immediately seized and slaughtered in the antechamber at the command of
Belisarius, or, at least, with his acquiescence. This somewhat arbitrary
execution was attributed to the vengeance of Antonina, to whom the above
remark had been reported; Anecd., 1; De Bel. Goth., ii, 8.
[582] Anecd., 2. Belisarius earnestly exhorts his step-son to co-operate
with him, claiming his allegiance as due to him in return for the care
he had bestowed on him during his youth. Cf. De Bel. Goth. i, 5.
[583] See p. 550.
[584] Cassiodorus, Var. Ep., x, 20, 23.
[585] Procopius, De Bel. Goth., i, 4, with the elucidation in Anecd.,
16, 24. In a letter from Gudelina to Theodora (Cassiod., _loc. cit._,
20), we find the statement, "Your remarks respecting a _certain person_
have reached our ears with titillating effect (_titillatio_). Well, I
may tell you that we are going to do what will please you." There is no
plausible explanation of these sentences except that the two jealous
women were plotting against Amalasuntha. Soon after (_Ibid._, 23)
Gudelina again writes: "I am glad you approve of what has lately taken
place in this Kingdom"; a palpable allusion to the death of the Queen.
The lightest warning from Peter to the shuffling and scared Theodahad
would have deterred him from any hostile act against his royal
colleague; but he never spoke it, and, when the King affirmed that the
murder was perpetrated without his knowledge or consent, it is most
probable that he was stating a truth. It may be taken as certain,
therefore, that the death-blow of Amalasuntha was aimed from Byzantium.
[586] Jn. Lydus, De Magistr., iii, 64, etc.
[587] On winning the favour of Theodora she received a Court
appointment, viz., "Mistress of the Wardrobe," in modern phraseology;
Codinus, pp. 108, 125.
[588] Procopius, Anecd., 2.
[589] Procopius, De Bel. Pers., i, 25, where all the circumstances
relative to the fall of John are narrated at length. His disappearance,
however, was in no way a public benefit, as, after a few months Peter
Barsymes took his place. Although a man of higher stamp, his hand
weighed just as heavily on the taxpayers; Anecd., 22, 25.
[590] Photius now disappears for ever from the pages of Procopius; but
he turns up again in John Ephes. (Hist., p. 66, Smith), who says that,
having taken the tonsure for some reason, he afterwards went up to
Justinian in his monkish habit and received from him a military command
in Syria, where he made himself obnoxious to the "orthodox" (Monoph.) by
his harsh treatment of them.
[591] See p. 328.
[592] His name was Anastasius, and he is represented as her grandson by
a daughter. The young people, one or both, were apparently not of
marriageable age, and so the wedding was put off. But they had arrived
at puberty by 547 at latest, so the birth of Theodora's daughter could
not have been later than 515. See below. Here is further evidence as to
the antiquity of the relations of Justinian and Theodora. If she could
try to bury her past in this way, perhaps Justinian never knew of it.
Hence a long interval may have separated her dissolute life from their
first meeting. But a daughter born in 515, before Justinian could have
thought of the succession? If we have the facts correctly, Theodora's
age should be much greater than is generally supposed. In John Ephes.
(Hist., pp. 51, 53, 59, Smith) the youth is called Athanasius, "the son
of Queen Theodora's daughter." Possibly this was another illegitimate
child (see p. 343) who was born before her meeting with Justinian. This
Athanasius appears in Church history as the founder of a peculiar
heresy.
[593] Procopius, Anecd., 3, 4, where the details of this collision with
Theodora, chiefly _re_ Antonina and her incontinence, are given at
length. Without this revelation we should be puzzled to understand the
subsequent career of Belisarius, his never returning to Persia, etc. Cf.
Marcel. Com. an. 545. This title of _Comes Stabuli_, that is, Constable,
was afterwards a very lofty one in the West, _e.g._, _the Constable_ of
Bourbon, etc.
[594] Procopius, Anecd., 17. Procopius (Anecd., 16) states that Theodora
kept a number of spies, who reported all that was said about the Court
in the public places and in private mansions. When she wished to get rid
of some one of position secretly she had him seized late at night, and
conveyed, with his head veiled, on board a ship, by which he was carried
to some distant place of confinement. Such persons generally succumbed
to harsh treatment, but occasionally obtained the forgiveness of the
Empress and reappeared in society.
[595] Irrespective of rectitude, as shown by the case of Antonina; and
not invariably, as seen in the instance of Amalasuntha. On another
occasion she forced two noble ladies to marry men of low rank, through
some caprice or spite. Although they took sanctuary in a church, she
succeeded in starving them out; Anecd., 17.
[596] He married Matasuentha, widow of Vitigis, who died two or three
years after his exile to CP.; Procopius, De Bel. Goth., iii, 39.
Jordanes calls this a union of the Amalian and Anician families (De Reb.
Get., lx), which shows that this ridiculous adulation as to Justinian's
pedigree was practically rife in the West.
[597] Procopius, De Bel. Goth., iii, 31, 32.
[598] _Ibid._, 39.