necessary to deprive him of his life. The task was easily accomplished
by the charge of a real or fictitious conspiracy; and the judges were
informed, as an accumulation of guilt, that he was secretly addicted to
the ManichÊan heresy. Amantius lost his head; three of his companions,
the first domestics of the palace, were punished either with death or
exile; and their unfortunate candidate for the purple was cast into a
deep dungeon, overwhelmed with stones, and ignominiously thrown, without
burial, into the sea. The ruin of Vitalian was a work of more difficulty
and danger. That Gothic chief had rendered himself popular by the civil
war which he boldly waged against Anastasius for the defence of the
orthodox faith, and after the conclusion of an advantageous treaty, he
still remained in the neighborhood of Constantinople at the head of a
formidable and victorious army of Barbarians. By the frail security of
oaths, he was tempted to relinquish this advantageous situation, and
to trust his person within the walls of a city, whose inhabitants,
particularly the _blue_ faction, were artfully incensed against him
by the remembrance even of his pious hostilities. The emperor and his
nephew embraced him as the faithful and worthy champion of the church
and state; and gratefully adorned their favorite with the titles of
consul and general; but in the seventh month of his consulship, Vitalian
was stabbed with seventeen wounds at the royal banquet; and Justinian,
who inherited the spoil, was accused as the assassin of a spiritual
brother, to whom he had recently pledged his faith in the participation
of the Christian mysteries. After the fall of his rival, he was
promoted, without any claim of military service, to the office of
master-general of the Eastern armies, whom it was his duty to lead
into the field against the public enemy. But, in the pursuit of fame,
Justinian might have lost his present dominion over the age and weakness
of his uncle; and instead of acquiring by Scythian or Persian trophies
the applause of his countrymen, the prudent warrior solicited their
favor in the churches, the circus, and the senate, of Constantinople.
The Catholics were attached to the nephew of Justin, who, between the
Nestorian and Eutychian heresies, trod the narrow path of inflexible and
intolerant orthodoxy. In the first days of the new reign, he prompted
and gratified the popular enthusiasm against the memory of the deceased
emperor. After a schism of thirty-four years, he reconciled the proud
and angry spirit of the Roman pontiff, and spread among the Latins a
favorable report of his pious respect for the apostolic see. The thrones
of the East were filled with Catholic bishops, devoted to his interest,
the clergy and the monks were gained by his liberality, and the people
were taught to pray for their future sovereign, the hope and pillar of
the true religion. The magnificence of Justinian was displayed in the
superior pomp of his public spectacles, an object not less sacred
and important in the eyes of the multitude than the creed of Nice or
Chalcedon: the expense of his consulship was esteemed at two hundred and
twenty-eight thousand pieces of gold; twenty lions, and thirty leopards,
were produced at the same time in the amphitheatre, and a numerous train
of horses, with their rich trappings, was bestowed as an extraordinary
gift on the victorious charioteers of the circus. While he indulged the
people of Constantinople, and received the addresses of foreign kings,
the nephew of Justin assiduously cultivated the friendship of the
senate. That venerable name seemed to qualify its members to declare
the sense of the nation, and to regulate the succession of the Imperial
throne: the feeble Anastasius had permitted the vigor of government
to degenerate into the form or substance of an aristocracy; and the
military officers who had obtained the senatorial rank were followed by
their domestic guards, a band of veterans, whose arms or acclamations
might fix in a tumultuous moment the diadem of the East. The treasures
of the state were lavished to procure the voices of the senators, and
their unanimous wish, that he would be pleased to adopt Justinian for
his colleague, was communicated to the emperor. But this request, which
too clearly admonished him of his approaching end, was unwelcome to the
jealous temper of an aged monarch, desirous to retain the power which
he was incapable of exercising; and Justin, holding his purple with both
his hands, advised them to prefer, since an election was so profitable,
some older candidate. Not withstanding this reproach, the
senate proceeded to decorate Justinian with the royal epithet of
_nobilissimus_; and their decree was ratified by the affection or the
fears of his uncle. After some time the languor of mind and body, to
which he was reduced by an incurable wound in his thigh, indispensably
required the aid of a guardian. He summoned the patriarch and senators;
and in their presence solemnly placed the diadem on the head of his
nephew, who was conducted from the palace to the circus, and saluted
by the loud and joyful applause of the people. The life of Justin was
prolonged about four months; but from the instant of this ceremony, he
was considered as dead to the empire, which acknowledged Justinian, in
the forty-fifth year of his age, for the lawful sovereign of the East.
From his elevation to his death, Justinian governed the Roman empire
thirty-eight years, seven months, and thirteen days. The events of his
reign, which excite our curious attention by their number, variety, and
importance, are diligently related by the secretary of Belisarius, a
rhetorician, whom eloquence had promoted to the rank of senator and
prÊfect of Constantinople. According to the vicissitudes of courage or
servitude, of favor or disgrace, Procopius successively composed the
_history_, the _panegyric_, and the _satire_ of his own times. The eight
books of the Persian, Vandalic, and Gothic wars, which are continued
in the five books of Agathias, deserve our esteem as a laborious and
successful imitation of the Attic, or at least of the Asiatic, writers
of ancient Greece. His facts are collected from the personal experience
and free conversation of a soldier, a statesman, and a traveller; his
style continually aspires, and often attains, to the merit of strength
and elegance; his reflections, more especially in the speeches, which he
too frequently inserts, contain a rich fund of political knowledge;
and the historian, excited by the generous ambition of pleasing and
instructing posterity, appears to disdain the prejudices of the people,
and the flattery of courts. The writings of Procopius were read and
applauded by his contemporaries: but, although he respectfully laid them
at the foot of the throne, the pride of Justinian must have been wounded
by the praise of a hero, who perpetually eclipses the glory of his
inactive sovereign. The conscious dignity of independence was subdued by
the hopes and fears of a slave; and the secretary of Belisarius labored
for pardon and reward in the six books of the Imperial _edifices_. He
had dexterously chosen a subject of apparent splendor, in which he
could loudly celebrate the genius, the magnificence, and the piety of
a prince, who, both as a conqueror and legislator, had surpassed the
puerile virtues of Themistocles and Cyrus. Disappointment might urge the
flatterer to secret revenge; and the first glance of favor might again
tempt him to suspend and suppress a libel, in which the Roman Cyrus
is degraded into an odious and contemptible tyrant, in which both
the emperor and his consort Theodora are seriously represented as two
dÊmons, who had assumed a human form for the destruction of mankind.
Such base inconsistency must doubtless sully the reputation, and detract
from the credit, of Procopius: yet, after the venom of his malignity has
been suffered to exhale, the residue of the _anecdotes_, even the most
disgraceful facts, some of which had been tenderly hinted in his public
history, are established by their internal evidence, or the authentic
monuments of the times. From these various materials, I shall now
proceed to describe the reign of Justinian, which will deserve and
occupy an ample space. The present chapter will explain the elevation
and character of Theodora, the factions of the circus, and the peaceful
administration of the sovereign of the East. In the three succeeding
chapters, I shall relate the wars of Justinian, which achieved the
conquest of Africa and Italy; and I shall follow the victories of
Belisarius and Narses, without disguising the vanity of their triumphs,
or the hostile virtue of the Persian and Gothic heroes. The series
of this and the following volume will embrace the jurisprudence and
theology of the emperor; the controversies and sects which still divide
the Oriental church; the reformation of the Roman law which is obeyed or
respected by the nations of modern Europe.
I. In the exercise of supreme power, the first act of Justinian was
to divide it with the woman whom he loved, the famous Theodora, whose
strange elevation cannot be applauded as the triumph of female virtue.
Under the reign of Anastasius, the care of the wild beasts maintained by
the green faction at Constantinople was intrusted to Acacius, a native
of the Isle of Cyprus, who, from his employment, was surnamed the master
of the bears. This honorable office was given after his death to another
candidate, notwithstanding the diligence of his widow, who had already
provided a husband and a successor. Acacius had left three daughters,
Comito, Theodora, and Anastasia, the eldest of whom did not then exceed
the age of seven years. On a solemn festival, these helpless orphans
were sent by their distressed and indignant mother, in the garb of
suppliants, into the midst of the theatre: the green faction received
them with contempt, the blues with compassion; and this difference,
which sunk deep into the mind of Theodora, was felt long afterwards in
the administration of the empire. As they improved in age and beauty,
the three sisters were successively devoted to the public and private
pleasures of the Byzantine people: and Theodora, after following Comito
on the stage, in the dress of a slave, with a stool on her head, was
at length permitted to exercise her independent talents. She neither
danced, nor sung, nor played on the flute; her skill was confined to the
pantomime arts; she excelled in buffoon characters, and as often as the
comedian swelled her cheeks, and complained with a ridiculous tone
and gesture of the blows that were inflicted, the whole theatre of
Constantinople resounded with laughter and applause. The beauty of
Theodora was the subject of more flattering praise, and the source of
more exquisite delight. Her features were delicate and regular; her
complexion, though somewhat pale, was tinged with a natural color; every
sensation was instantly expressed by the vivacity of her eyes; her easy
motions displayed the graces of a small but elegant figure; and
either love or adulation might proclaim, that painting and poetry were
incapable of delineating the matchless excellence of her form. But
this form was degraded by the facility with which it was exposed to the
public eye, and prostituted to licentious desire. Her venal charms were
abandoned to a promiscuous crowd of citizens and strangers of every
rank, and of every profession: the fortunate lover who had been promised
a night of enjoyment, was often driven from her bed by a stronger or
more wealthy favorite; and when she passed through the streets, her
presence was avoided by all who wished to escape either the scandal or
the temptation. The satirical historian has not blushed to describe the
naked scenes which Theodora was not ashamed to exhibit in the theatre.
After exhausting the arts of sensual pleasure, she most ungratefully
murmured against the parsimony of Nature; but her murmurs, her
pleasures, and her arts, must be veiled in the obscurity of a learned
language. After reigning for some time, the delight and contempt of the
capital, she condescended to accompany Ecebolus, a native of Tyre, who
had obtained the government of the African Pentapolis. But this
union was frail and transient; Ecebolus soon rejected an expensive or
faithless concubine; she was reduced at Alexandria to extreme distress;
and in her laborious return to Constantinople, every city of the East
admired and enjoyed the fair Cyprian, whose merit appeared to justify
her descent from the peculiar island of Venus. The vague commerce of
Theodora, and the most detestable precautions, preserved her from the
danger which she feared; yet once, and once only, she became a mother.
The infant was saved and educated in Arabia, by his father, who imparted
to him on his death-bed, that he was the son of an empress. Filled with
ambitious hopes, the unsuspecting youth immediately hastened to the
palace of Constantinople, and was admitted to the presence of his
mother. As he was never more seen, even after the decease of Theodora,
she deserves the foul imputation of extinguishing with his life a secret
so offensive to her Imperial virtue.
In the most abject state of her fortune, and reputation, some vision,
either of sleep or of fancy, had whispered to Theodora the pleasing
assurance that she was destined to become the spouse of a potent
monarch. Conscious of her approaching greatness, she returned from
Paphlagonia to Constantinople; assumed, like a skilful actress, a more
decent character; relieved her poverty by the laudable industry of
spinning wool; and affected a life of chastity and solitude in a small
house, which she afterwards changed into a magnificent temple. Her
beauty, assisted by art or accident, soon attracted, captivated, and
fixed, the patrician Justinian, who already reigned with absolute sway
under the name of his uncle. Perhaps she contrived to enhance the value
of a gift which she had so often lavished on the meanest of mankind;
perhaps she inflamed, at first by modest delays, and at last by sensual
allurements, the desires of a lover, who, from nature or devotion, was
addicted to long vigils and abstemious diet. When his first transports
had subsided, she still maintained the same ascendant over his mind, by
the more solid merit of temper and understanding. Justinian delighted
to ennoble and enrich the object of his affection; the treasures of the
East were poured at her feet, and the nephew of Justin was determined,
perhaps by religious scruples, to bestow on his concubine the sacred and
legal character of a wife. But the laws of Rome expressly prohibited
the marriage of a senator with any female who had been dishonored by
a servile origin or theatrical profession: the empress Lupicina, or
Euphemia, a Barbarian of rustic manners, but of irreproachable virtue,
refused to accept a prostitute for her niece; and even Vigilantia, the
superstitious mother of Justinian, though she acknowledged the wit and
beauty of Theodora, was seriously apprehensive, lest the levity and
arrogance of that artful paramour might corrupt the piety and happiness
of her son. These obstacles were removed by the inflexible constancy of
Justinian. He patiently expected the death of the empress; he despised
the tears of his mother, who soon sunk under the weight of her
affliction; and a law was promulgated in the name of the emperor
Justin, which abolished the rigid jurisprudence of antiquity. A glorious
repentance (the words of the edict) was left open for the unhappy
females who had prostituted their persons on the theatre, and they were
permitted to contract a legal union with the most illustrious of the
Romans. This indulgence was speedily followed by the solemn nuptials of
Justinian and Theodora; her dignity was gradually exalted with that
of her lover, and, as soon as Justin had invested his nephew with the
purple, the patriarch of Constantinople placed the diadem on the heads
of the emperor and empress of the East. But the usual honors which the
severity of Roman manners had allowed to the wives of princes, could not
satisfy either the ambition of Theodora or the fondness of Justinian.
He seated her on the throne as an equal and independent colleague in the
sovereignty of the empire, and an oath of allegiance was imposed on the
governors of the provinces in the joint names of Justinian and Theodora.
The Eastern world fell prostrate before the genius and fortune of the
daughter of Acacius. The prostitute who, in the presence of innumerable
spectators, had polluted the theatre of Constantinople, was adored as
a queen in the same city, by grave magistrates, orthodox bishops,
victorious generals, and captive monarchs.
Chapter XL: Reign Of Justinian.--Part II.
Those who believe that the female mind is totally depraved by the loss
of chastity, will eagerly listen to all the invectives of private envy,
or popular resentment which have dissembled the virtues of Theodora,
exaggerated her vices, and condemned with rigor the venal or voluntary
sins of the youthful harlot. From a motive of shame, or contempt, she
often declined the servile homage of the multitude, escaped from the
odious light of the capital, and passed the greatest part of the year in
the palaces and gardens which were pleasantly seated on the sea-coast of
the Propontis and the Bosphorus. Her private hours were devoted to the
prudent as well as grateful care of her beauty, the luxury of the bath
and table, and the long slumber of the evening and the morning. Her
secret apartments were occupied by the favorite women and eunuchs, whose
interests and passions she indulged at the expense of justice; the most
illustrious person ages of the state were crowded into a dark and sultry
antechamber, and when at last, after tedious attendance, they were
admitted to kiss the feet of Theodora, they experienced, as her humor
might suggest, the silent arrogance of an empress, or the capricious
levity of a comedian. Her rapacious avarice to accumulate an immense
treasure, may be excused by the apprehension of her husband's death,
which could leave no alternative between ruin and the throne; and fear
as well as ambition might exasperate Theodora against two generals, who,
during the malady of the emperor, had rashly declared that they were not
disposed to acquiesce in the choice of the capital. But the reproach of
cruelty, so repugnant even to her softer vices, has left an indelible
stain on the memory of Theodora. Her numerous spies observed, and
zealously reported, every action, or word, or look, injurious to their
royal mistress. Whomsoever they accused were cast into her peculiar
prisons, inaccessible to the inquiries of justice; and it was rumored,
that the torture of the rack, or scourge, had been inflicted in the
presence of the female tyrant, insensible to the voice of prayer or
of pity. Some of these unhappy victims perished in deep, unwholesome
dungeons, while others were permitted, after the loss of their limbs,
their reason, or their fortunes, to appear in the world, the living
monuments of her vengeance, which was commonly extended to the children
of those whom she had suspected or injured. The senator or bishop,
whose death or exile Theodora had pronounced, was delivered to a trusty
messenger, and his diligence was quickened by a menace from her own
mouth. "If you fail in the execution of my commands, I swear by Him who
liveth forever, that your skin shall be flayed from your body."
If the creed of Theodora had not been tainted with heresy, her exemplary
devotion might have atoned, in the opinion of her contemporaries, for
pride, avarice, and cruelty. But, if she employed her influence to
assuage the intolerant fury of the emperor, the present age will allow
some merit to her religion, and much indulgence to her speculative
errors. The name of Theodora was introduced, with equal honor, in
all the pious and charitable foundations of Justinian; and the most
benevolent institution of his reign may be ascribed to the sympathy
of the empress for her less fortunate sisters, who had been seduced or
compelled to embrace the trade of prostitution. A palace, on the
Asiatic side of the Bosphorus, was converted into a stately and spacious
monastery, and a liberal maintenance was assigned to five hundred women,
who had been collected from the streets and brothels of Constantinople.
In this safe and holy retreat, they were devoted to perpetual
confinement; and the despair of some, who threw themselves headlong
into the sea, was lost in the gratitude of the penitents, who had
been delivered from sin and misery by their generous benefactress. The
prudence of Theodora is celebrated by Justinian himself; and his laws
are attributed to the sage counsels of his most reverend wife whom he
had received as the gift of the Deity. Her courage was displayed amidst
the tumult of the people and the terrors of the court. Her chastity,
from the moment of her union with Justinian, is founded on the silence
of her implacable enemies; and although the daughter of Acacius might be
satiated with love, yet some applause is due to the firmness of a mind
which could sacrifice pleasure and habit to the stronger sense either of
duty or interest. The wishes and prayers of Theodora could never obtain
the blessing of a lawful son, and she buried an infant daughter, the
sole offspring of her marriage. Notwithstanding this disappointment, her
dominion was permanent and absolute; she preserved, by art or merit, the
affections of Justinian; and their seeming dissensions were always fatal
to the courtiers who believed them to be sincere. Perhaps her health
had been impaired by the licentiousness of her youth; but it was always
delicate, and she was directed by her physicians to use the Pythian
warm baths. In this journey, the empress was followed by the PrÊtorian
prÊfect, the great treasurer, several counts and patricians, and a
splendid train of four thousand attendants: the highways were repaired
at her approach; a palace was erected for her reception; and as she
passed through Bithynia, she distributed liberal alms to the churches,
the monasteries, and the hospitals, that they might implore Heaven for
the restoration of her health. At length, in the twenty-fourth year of
her marriage, and the twenty-second of her reign, she was consumed by
a cancer; and the irreparable loss was deplored by her husband, who, in
the room of a theatrical prostitute, might have selected the purest and
most noble virgin of the East.
II. A material difference may be observed in the games of antiquity:
the most eminent of the Greeks were actors, the Romans were merely
spectators. The Olympic stadium was open to wealth, merit, and ambition;
and if the candidates could depend on their personal skill and activity,
they might pursue the footsteps of Diomede and Menelaus, and conduct
their own horses in the rapid career. Ten, twenty, forty chariots were
allowed to start at the same instant; a crown of leaves was the reward
of the victor; and his fame, with that of his family and country,
was chanted in lyric strains more durable than monuments of brass and
marble. But a senator, or even a citizen, conscious of his dignity,
would have blushed to expose his person, or his horses, in the circus
of Rome. The games were exhibited at the expense of the republic, the
magistrates, or the emperors: but the reins were abandoned to servile
hands; and if the profits of a favorite charioteer sometimes exceeded
those of an advocate, they must be considered as the effects of popular
extravagance, and the high wages of a disgraceful profession. The race,
in its first institution, was a simple contest of two chariots, whose
drivers were distinguished by _white_ and _red_ liveries: two additional
colors, a light _green_, and a cÊrulean _blue_, were afterwards
introduced; and as the races were repeated twenty-five times, one
hundred chariots contributed in the same day to the pomp of the
circus. The four _factions_ soon acquired a legal establishment, and
a mysterious origin, and their fanciful colors were derived from the
various appearances of nature in the four seasons of the year; the red
dogstar of summer, the snows of winter, the deep shades of autumn, and
the cheerful verdure of the spring. Another interpretation preferred
the elements to the seasons, and the struggle of the green and blue
was supposed to represent the conflict of the earth and sea. Their
respective victories announced either a plentiful harvest or a
prosperous navigation, and the hostility of the husbandmen and mariners
was somewhat less absurd than the blind ardor of the Roman people, who
devoted their lives and fortunes to the color which they had espoused.
Such folly was disdained and indulged by the wisest princes; but the
names of Caligula, Nero, Vitellius, Verus, Commodus, Caracalla, and
Elagabalus, were enrolled in the blue or green factions of the circus;
they frequented their stables, applauded their favorites, chastised
their antagonists, and deserved the esteem of the populace, by
the natural or affected imitation of their manners. The bloody and
tumultuous contest continued to disturb the public festivity, till the
last age of the spectacles of Rome; and Theodoric, from a motive of
justice or affection, interposed his authority to protect the greens
against the violence of a consul and a patrician, who were passionately
addicted to the blue faction of the circus.