Theodora: Empress of Byzantium (Mark Magowan Books) (19 page)

It was possibly in 520 or 521 that Theodora arrived in Constantinople again, thanks to her connections with the Blues of the Levant, and she saw for herself once again; again, seeing was knowing.

Nothing matched her original plan, and she too was no longer the same person. While remaining true to herself, she had once again been
transformed and redefined in an unexpected way, sweeping away all the clichés that were used (and have been used ever since) to label her neatly. Procopius labeled her, as did the Church historians who called her “the second Eve, the new Delilah, the other Herodias who thirsts after holy men,”
⁷
and even the Monophysites who built a new stereotype image for her: body hidden under a chaste tunic of rough linen, two hands holding a candle, or arms extended and hands open in prayer, the pose so often found on the tombs and baptismal fonts of Coptic Egypt [
fig. 17
].

But Theodora could never be contained by these stereotypical portraits.

17. Limestone funerary stele with praying figure, 6th century, Coptic Museum, Cairo.

HE PALACE OF CONSTANTINOPLE
, focal point of the whole civilized world, had first touched Theodora’s humble life when Hecebolus was appointed governor of Pentapolis. That had looked like a positive development, but the affair ended in failure. Then in 518 the palace launched an offensive against the Monophysites, which continued through Theodora’s stay in Alexandria. That might have looked like a negative development, but it was actually fundamental to her life’s next turn, to the fate of the empire, and even to the history of Christianity, which is so strangely linked to the life of this young actress.

Of course Theodora had no inkling, as she made her way back to Constantinople around 521, of the changes that were to come; but Procopius knew it all when he was writing the
Secret History
, around the year 550. He knew, but he mentions none of it in his account, because he wants to show Theodora as being in the grip of the Devil during her whole return trip. And so he colored the historical and cultural perception of Theodora for centuries to come, laying the groundwork for her decadent legend as a
vamp
(a “she-vampire”). He thus set the tone for her meeting with her future imperial spouse, Justinian, whom he introduces as “the Lord of the Demons.”

The prelude to this diabolical theme had already been sounded at the time of Theodora’s debut on the stage (and in the back rooms) of Constantinople, for her unnamed lovers had supposedly reported that “some sort of demon descended upon them at night and drove them
from the room in which they were spending the night with her.”
¹
Here we see the archaic tradition of the succubus—a mysterious female monster who was believed to have sexual relations with unsuspecting men during the night—revived, with its gender switched. But Procopius’s insidious “creature” is chiefly a foreshadowing of Justinian, not only because, according to rumors, he practiced satanic sex,
²
but because throughout the
Secret History
Flavius Petrus Sabbatius Justinianus is a demonic figure, not a man: “And they say that Justinian’s mother stated to some of her intimates that he was not the son of her husband Sabbatius, nor of any man. For when she was about to conceive him, a demon visited her; he was invisible but affected her with a certain impression that he was there with her as a man having intercourse with a woman and then disappeared as in a dream.”
³

Other great historical figures have had nonhuman parents attributed to them in propaganda or literature. It was said that Alexander the Great was the son of the god Ammon and that Scipio was the son of Jove; even Octavian Caesar styled himself
divi filius,
son of god. But while these figures were all linked to Olympus, the
Secret History
’s Justinian is the polar opposite of a “valiant prince” of the Roman empire. He was a son of darkness, a chthonic creature, “a demon”—the “prince” of demons—and as such, he was an anti-Christ who had come to signal the end of time, maybe even to upset the course of the eons with a plethora of natural disasters such as earthquakes, famines, and plagues.

It might seem surprising that Procopius resorted to so many superstitious and apocalyptic elements here, while his other works are masterpieces of classical culture. But he was a product of his time, which was rife with messianic, visionary elements, both Christian and pagan. We easily accept that the lives of the Christian saints could be filled with thaumaturgic and teratological elements, but in those years even commentaries on Plato invoked the stars or astrological themes, throwing ancient dialectical wisdom to the wind. It is also true that Procopius’s rhetoric of blame demanded that the strong emotional overtones of his narrative spread to characters beyond Theodora herself.

So Procopius attacks the man who would become the most famous
emperor of late antiquity, the man who has even been dubbed, aptly, “the last Roman Emperor on the throne”
⁴
of Constantinople. To do so, Procopius deploys every possible literary effect, setting himself squarely in an ancient tradition that considered historiography part of the fiction writer’s trade. He uses anecdotes from many sources, and some that he clearly invented. He writes of a virtuous monk who was admitted to Justinian’s presence and who immediately “recoiled and stepped back … [for] he had seen the Lord of the Demons in the Palace, sitting on the throne.”
⁵
Other reliable “men whose souls were pure,” he reports, were working with Justinian late at night when the emperor suddenly disappeared, and the men saw a headless ghost walking up and down the halls of the palace like an automaton. Then again, Justinian “was never accustomed to remaining seated for long,”
⁶
unlike the immobile, statuelike potentates of yore.

Other witnesses whom Procopius considered credible saw the face of Justinian transformed into “featureless flesh,”
⁷
as in a modern horror movie. Perhaps this image was lifted from the
Testament of Solomon
, an Eastern apocalyptic text from around the third century
A.D.
that featured a headless demon claiming to be “homicidal.”
⁸
Procopius also accuses Justinian—literally beheaded in the account above—and Theodora of being homicidal: he calls them “a twin bane of mortals.”
⁹

In the
Secret History
, the closing lines of the chapter on the “nurture and education” of Theodora are demoniacal, and the remainder of the book maintains that theme (“when Justinian either, if he is a man, departs this life or, as being the Lord of the evil spirits, lays his life aside”
¹⁰
). More to the point, Procopius describes the meeting of Justinian and Theodora, the prelude to their career together, as happening under the sign of the Devil.

The city of Antioch played a pivotal role in the life of Justinian and Theodora. In the early 520s, this Syrian metropolis on the river Orontes was still considered the third greatest city after Constantinople and Alexandria (which retain their historical and strategic importance even today). Antioch was the most hedonistic town of the Mediterranean basin. The Hippodrome races, the mime shows, and the theaters
afforded its more than 300,000 inhabitants the chance to release pentup passions, and the tradition was even older there than in Constantinople. The shows satisfied a large upper class grown wealthy from trade, very different from the urban immigrant masses prevalent in Constantinople. The shows were also an antidote to the religious disputes that flared up after Emperor Justin (and Justinian, his nephew) deposed Severus, the city patriarch. And as the city aligned itself theologically with the Dyophysitist Roman papacy, in the milieu of show business the Blues were coming back into favor in Antioch as in the capital and other major cities.

The excitable nature of the citizens—the fact that they “care[d] for nothing else than fêtes and luxurious living, and their constant rivalries with each other in the theaters”
¹¹
—might have been linked to the chronic instability of the earth beneath their feet. Violent earthquakes periodically shook the monumental buildings of the city center and the elegant villas of the suburbs, disasters that were taken as repeated invitations to enjoy the present. Another powerful stimulus to pleasure was the proximity of the Persian empire of the Sassanides, the other great Eye of the Ecumene, the Romans’ only worthy adversary in terms of magnitude, civilization, and military strength. This proximity had led some emperors to choose Antioch as an imperial residence in the fourth century.

As we noted, there was a prominent dancer named Macedonia among the Blues of prosperous Antioch. She was very powerful: “For by writing letters to Justinian while he was still administering the Empire for Justinus, she without difficulty kept destroying whomsoever she wished among the notable men of the East and causing their property to be confiscated to the Treasury.”
¹²
Macedonia, a discreet and dedicated informant, operated outside the official political administration that left Justinian dissatisfied, perhaps because he had not yet appointed his own trusted agents to it. He wanted control, and to have control he
had to know.
Show-business connections suited this purpose perfectly. Macedonia could report people who might deserve a hearing or could be persuaded to collaborate. She could also report on possibly dangerous types: independent thinkers (in religious matters, for example),
people who failed to fulfill their obligations to the palace, or even outright rebellious or insubordinate characters.

The Blue faction, at least in cities like Alexandria or Antioch, had such a well-developed grassroots network that it could do more than simply report to the upper echelons of the palace. It could even assist its members; this is why Macedonia met Theodora as she passed through on her journey from Alexandria to the capital. The traveler was “despondent [and] discouraged”
¹³
by the high-handed treatment she had received from Hecebolus and by the expenses of her journey. This indicates that Theodora preferred to travel alone as much as possible, avoiding any escorts who might have ulterior motives. It was an expensive way to travel, and she could afford it only if she had well-paid theater engagements or difficult-to-obtain loans.

Macedonia offered encouragement and comfort to Theodora, assuring her that “Fortune was quite capable of becoming once again a purveyor of great wealth for her.”
¹⁴
These may seem like empty, conventional words, but in fact they hint at the specifics of the situation. “Once again” confirms that Theodora was already used to having ready money. “Quite capable” suggests that Macedonia could recommend her to the faction leaders, whose political ties reached all the way up to Justinian. In the course of her conversation with Macedonia, Theodora must have described in detail what the other woman had generically referred to as “Fortune.” Procopius says that she revealed her feelings to Macedonia, telling her that “a dream had come to her during the night just past and had bidden her to lay aside all anxiety as far as wealth was concerned. For as soon as she should come to Byzantium, she should lie with the Lord of the Demons, and would quite certainly live with him as his married wife, and he would cause her to be mistress of money without limit.”
¹⁵