The Horoscope of Emperor Baldwin II 9789004372443, 9789004383180

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The Horoscope of Emperor Baldwin II

The Medieval Mediterranean Peoples, Economies and Cultures, 400–1500

Managing Editor Frances Andrews (St. Andrews) Editors Tamar Herzig (Tel Aviv) Paul Magdalino (St. Andrews) Larry J. Simon (Western Michigan University) Daniel Lord Smail (Harvard University) Jo Van Steenbergen (Ghent University) Advisory Board David Abulafia (Cambridge) Benjamin Arbel (Tel Aviv) Hugh Kennedy (soas, London)

volume 114

The titles published in this series are listed at brill.com/mmed

The Horoscope of Emperor Baldwin II Political and Sociocultural Dynamics in Latin-Byzantine Constantinople

By

Filip Van Tricht

leiden | boston

Cover illustration: Natal chart of Emperor Baldwin II of Courtenay /BnF, fr. 1353, f. 4v. With kind permission of the Bibliothèque nationale de France. The Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available online at http://catalog.loc.gov

Typeface for the Latin, Greek, and Cyrillic scripts: “Brill”. See and download: brill.com/brill-typeface. ISSN 0928-5520 ISBN 978-90-04-37244-3 (hardback) ISBN 978-90-04-38318-0 (e-book) Copyright 2019 by Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, The Netherlands. Koninklijke Brill NV incorporates the imprints Brill, Brill Hes & De Graaf, Brill Nijhoff, Brill Rodopi, Brill Sense, Hotei Publishing, mentis Verlag, Verlag Ferdinand Schöningh and Wilhelm Fink Verlag. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, translated, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior written permission from the publisher. Authorization to photocopy items for internal or personal use is granted by Koninklijke Brill NV provided that the appropriate fees are paid directly to The Copyright Clearance Center, 222 Rosewood Drive, Suite 910, Danvers, MA 01923, USA. Fees are subject to change. This book is printed on acid-free paper and produced in a sustainable manner.

To my sweet wife, the love of my life

∵

Contents Preface  ix Introduction  1 1

Manuscript Tradition, Authorship, Date & Aim  6

Part 1 Political Dynamics 2

A Byzantine-Style Imperial Ideology  27

3

Internal Rivalries at Court  50

4

Attempts at Geopolitical Restauration  81

Part 2 Cultural Dynamics 5

The Astrological Corpus: Western and Byzantine Influences  97

6

Literature and Sciences in Latin-Byzantine Constantinople  131

7 The Arts and Artistic Production in Latin-Byzantine Constantinople  186

Conclusion  208

Part 3 Appendixes 1 2 3

Astrological poem  217 Horoscope of Baldwin II of Courtenay  228 Introductoire d’Astronomie: Selected Chapters  235 Bibliography  253 Index  292

Preface This book started out as an article with only a limited scope. I originally intended it as a short commentary on the potential of a little known corpus of source texts. It was admittedly somewhat by chance that I myself came across this astronomical/astrological material. While I immediately realized its relevance for the study of various aspects of the geopolitical entity that has become known in modern historiography as the Latin empire of Constantinople (1204–1261), at the same time the “new” information these texts contain regarding the political, social and cultural history of in particular Latin-Byzantine Constantinople at first seemed rather modest (and in a way still does). But gradually one thing led to another. The various in themselves small pieces of new information which I touched upon each seemed to require further research and ample contextualization in order to let or make them truly speak. The writing of this book in a way resembled a game of domino: one little block making another one tumble and then yet another one and so forth. Ultimately it seemed that this corpus of texts provided an ideal starting point for a more comprehensive study of aspects of both the political and sociocultural life during the later decades of Latin rule in Constantinople. In that sense this book is the chronological follow-up to my study of the empire of Constantinople under the Latin emperors during its first decades (1204–1228). However, by giving a central place to a specific set of source materials my angle this time is different. While in my previous effort I adopted a rigid systematic approach with a well-defined set of research questions and a focus on institutions and prosopography, here my working method will be more like that of a microstudy. The mentioned corpus of texts will function as the glue holding everything together, while I address a wide variety of topics and larger questions relating to Constantinopolitan Latin-Byzantine society. It is my intended aim to in this way provide a complementary view to the results I presented in my earlier work. Both books should be seen as two parts of one whole, each with its own chronological and methodological focus. This is also the place to express my gratitude to the Department of History at the University of Ghent for providing research facilities, especially prof. dr. Thérèse de Hemptinne and her husband prof. dr. Marc Boone. Gratitude also to the recently departed prof. dr. David Jacoby from the Hebrew University of Jerusalem—a true pioneer in the study of Latin Romania. Of course I would also like to thank my dear ones, who unavoidably have suffered most of the collateral damage associated with writing and finishing

x

Preface

a book, such as an improper measure of absentmindedness during cosy family moments and the misuse of our sanitary facilities in order to quietly read books and articles. First and foremost I thank my lovely wife Borg, who still struggles somewhat to genuinely sympathize with the peculiar attraction medieval Constantinople holds for her husband. I am fully aware that dedicating this work to her will not be considered as sufficient compensation. Secondly I am also grateful to my two children, “May the force be with you” Stan (or Constantine the Great as I sometimes call him) and our valiant and divine little princess Juno Guinevere, for the daily happiness they effortlessly provide and who every holiday in France must undergo at least one lecture on how this knight or that cleric of this castle or that abbey we visit also participated in the Fourth Crusade or later expeditions to Latin Romania. I also need to thank our golden retriever Gonzo for the understanding she has shown me for sometimes preferring to continue working on this study instead of permanently petting her as evidently I should have done. Finally, I must show my continuing gratitude to both my dear father, who sadly passed away during the writing of this book and whom I miss dearly, and my dear mother for the love, care and chances they have always provided me with. Filip Van Tricht Melle, October 2018

Introduction In April 1204 the Fourth Crusade army captured Constantinople. Count Baldwin of Flanders and Hainaut was elected and crowned as emperor.1 In the following months other parts of the Byzantine empire were conquered and divided among the Crusade’s principal leaders and participants as feudal principalities and baronies. Until around 1217 the new regime succesfully struggled to assume a role as aspirant-hegemon in the Byzantine space, but from around 1218 decline set in with the kingdom of Thessaloniki, the Rhodopes region, the principalities of Philippopolis and Adrianople-Didymoteichon, and the greater part of northwestern Asia Minor being lost by 1224/1227 to the rival rulers of Epiros and Nicaea.2 The Byzantine capital and its hinterland remained under a Latin imperial dynasty for three more decades until its capture by the Nicaean emperor Michael viii Paleologos (1259–1282) in 1261. Other, initially feudally dependent territories—such as the principality of Achaia, the duchy of Athens, the duchy of Naxos, and a number of Venetian possessions (among others Euboia and Crete)—would manage to survive for centuries. Although a substantial number of books and articles have been devoted to various aspects of its history, many facets of the Latin empire of Constantinople—as it came to be called in modern historiography—still remain rather obscure or unexplored.3 This is especially true for the later decades. 1 The Fourth Crusade’s bibliography is very extensive. A number of recent studies: Donald E. Queller and Thomas F. Madden, The Fourth Crusade. The Conquest of Constantinople, 2nd ed. (Philadelphia, 1997); Michael Angold, The Fourth Crusade: Event and Context (Harlow, 2003); Jonathan Phillips, The Fourth Crusade and the Sack of Constantinople (London, 2005). Overviews of existing historiography: Donald E. Queller, The Latin conquest of Constantinople (New York, 1971); Thomas F. Madden, “Outside and inside the fourth crusade,” International History Review 17 (1995), 726–743; Michel Balard, “L’historiographie occidentale de la quatrième croisade,” in Angeliki E. Laiou, ed., Urbs Capta. The Fourth Crusade and its consequences (Paris, 2005), 161–174. The crusade’s 800th anniversary also produced several collections of articles in the past decade: Angeliki Laiou, ed., Urbs Capta. The Fourth Crusade and its consequences (Paris, 2005); Gherardo Ortalli, Giorgio Ravegnani, and Peter Schreiner, eds., Quarta crociata. Venezia, Bisanzio, Impero latino, 2 vols. (Venice, 2006); Thomas F. Madden, ed., The Fourth Crusade: Event, Aftermath, and Perceptions. Papers from the Sixth Conference of the Society for the Study of the Crusades and the Latin East, Istanbul, Turkey, 25–29 August 2004, Crusades, Subsidia 2 (Aldershot, 2008). 2 See my book on the empire’s early period: Filip Van Tricht, The Latin Renovatio of Byzantium. The Empire of Constantinople (1204–1228), The Medieval Mediterranean 90 (Leiden, 2011). 3 Some recent authors and studies: Erica Gilles, “‘Nova Francia?’ Kinship and Identity among the Frankish Aristocracy in Conquered Byzantium, 1204–1282,” PhD diss. (Ann Arbor, 2010);

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2

Introduction

The most recent and virtually the only major contribution dealing specifically with Latin-Byzantine Constantinople’s later years remains an article by Robert Lee Wolff, who takes the mortgage of Philip of Courtenay, son and heir of Emperor Baldwin ii, to a number of Venetian merchants as a starting point to discuss aspects of internal and external imperial politics from the late 1240s.4 Recently a number of valuable studies on the Latin empire and Latin Constantinople have appeared, but these generally tend to treat the entire period 1204–1261 as an indivisible whole, with only modest attention being devoted to the later decades. Among these: Erica Gilles studies Latin Constantinople using the novel concept of settler identity;5 Nikolaos Chrissis focuses on papal crusading policy with regard to Latin Romania;6 Stefan Burkhardt’s monograph introduces the theoretical concept of imperiale Ordnungen to analyze Nikolaos G. Chrissis, Crusading in Frankish Greece. A Study of Byzantine-Western Relations and Attitudes 1204–1282, Medieval Church Studies 22 (Leuven, 2013); Stefan Burkhardt, Mediterranes Kaisertum und imperiale Ordnungen. Das lateinische Kaiserreich von Konstantinopel, Europa im Mittelalter. Abhandlungen und Beiträge zur historischen Komparatistik 25 (Berlin, 2014). Various articles by Guillaume Saint-Guillain: Guillaume Saint-Guillain, “Deux îles grecques au temps de l’empire latin. Andros et Lemnos au XIIIe siècle,” Mélanges de l’école française de Rome. Moyen Âge 113 (2001) 579–620; idem, “Les conquérants de l’archipel: l’empire latin de Constantinople, Venise et les premiers seigneurs des Cylades,” in Ortalli, Ravegnani, and Schreiner, eds, Quarta crociata 1: 125–137; idem, “Comment les Vénitiens n’ont pas acquis la Crète: note à propos de l’élection impériale de 1204 et du partage projeté de l’Empire byzantin,” Travaux et Mémoires 16 (2010) 713–758. Some older but still influential authors and works: Jean Longnon, L’empire latin de Constantinople (Paris, 1949); Robert L. Wolff, Studies in the Latin Empire of Constantinople (London, 1976); Antonio Carile, Per una storia dell’impero latino di Constantinopoli (1204–1261), 2nd ed., Il mondo medievale. Sezione di storia bizantina e slava 2 (Bologna, 1978); David Jacoby, “The Venetian Government and Administration in Latin Constantinople, 1204–1261: A State within a State,” in Ortalli, Ravegnani, and Schreiner, eds., Quarta crociata 1: 19–79 (with references to the author’s numerous other articles); Benjamin Hendrickx, “Regestes des empereurs latins de Constantinople (1204–1261/1271),” Byzantina 14 (1988) 7–221 (also with references to the author’s numerous other contributions). 4 Robert L. Wolff, “Mortgage and Redemption of an Emperor’s son. Castile and the Latin Empire of Constantinople,” Speculum 29 (1954) 45–84. With the term “Latin-Byzantine” I wish to convey the notion that Constantinople in the period 1204–1261 can be characterized as having a decidedly mixed identity (demography, government/administration, ecclesiastical institutions, etc.). I use the term “Byzantines” as an equivalent of “East Romans,” referring to people from lands belonging to (or claimed by) the Eastern empire and with a political or religious attachment to its central authorities (emperor, patriarch). The term “Latins” refers to people with roots in Western Europe and belonging to the Roman Church. See also my discussion of the terms Romaios / Romanus in Chapter 6. 5 Gilles, “‘Nova Francia?’” 265–305. 6 Chrissis, Crusading in Frankish Greece (passim).

Introduction

3

the empire’s political structure.7 To my knowledge only David Jacoby made a number of contributions specifically relating to the two decades leading up to 1261, studying the economic situation of the “Queen of Cities,” and in particular of its Venetian quarter.8 Partly this lack in our knowledge of later Latin-Byzantine Constantinople is the consequence of meager sources. As is well known to students of the Latin empire, sources are scant beginning in 1204, and the situation worsens for the next decades, especially for the years after 1240 when only a limited number of charters and a few scattered passages or references in various chronicles and other types of sources are available. Sources originating in Constantinople or in the empire itself are virtually non-existent.9 In this context it is remarkable that a trio of closely related documents stemming from the immediate entourage of Emperor Baldwin ii of Courtenay (1240–1273) has until now remained virtually unused by scholars dealing with Latin Romania. The source material in question consists of a horoscope, which presumes to predict the said emperor’s life and future, its versified résumé which starts off as a concise introduction to astronomy and astrology, and a longer prose treatise on astronomy and astrology dedicated to and written on behalf of the same emperor. All three texts are written in Old French. In other academic fields however—literary history and the history of science—a limited number of authors have devoted attention to the texts. To my knowledge Paulin Paris was the first to signal their existence with his lemma on the horoscope and its accompanying astrological treatise dedicated to Baldwin ii in a volume of the encyclopedic Histoire Littéraire de la France (1847), quoting passages from the horoscope’s versified summary.10 A few decades later Paul Edouard Riant mentioned the horoscope in his overview of archival 7 Burkhardt, Mediterranes Kaisertum und imperiale Ordnungen, 374–375. See my review: F. Van Tricht, in The Medieval Review, 15.09.21 (https://scholarworks.iu.edu/journals/index. php/tmr/article/view/20017/26139). 8 See, for example, David Jacoby, “The Economy of Latin Constantinople, 1204–1261,” in Laiou, Urbs capta, 195–214; idem, “Venetian settlers in Latin Constantinople (1204–1261): Rich or Poor?” in Chrysa A. Maltezou, ed., Ricchi e poveri nella società dell’Oriente grecolatino, Biblioteca dell’Instituto ellenico di Studi bizantini e postbizantini di Venezia 19 (Venice, 1998), 181–204; idem, “The Urban Evolution of Latin Constantinople (1204–1261),” in Nevra Necipoglu, ed., Byzantine Constantinople: Monuments, Topography and Everyday Life (Leiden, 2001), 277–297. 9 For a general overview of the available sources for the Latin empire: Van Tricht, The Latin Renovatio of Byzantium, 4–12. See also Hendrickx, “Regestes des empereurs latins de Constantinople” (passim). 10 Paulin Paris, “Astrologue anonyme,” in Histoire Littéraire de la France 21 (Paris, 1847), 423–433.

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Introduction

materials available for students of the Latin Orient (1884).11 In the 1920s Pierre Duhem wrote extensive commentaries on the texts in his monumental Le système du monde.12 In 1973 Maxime Préaud edited both the horoscope and the introductory astrological poem in the ephemeral journal on medieval astrology and sorcery Anagrom.13 Stephen Dörr in 1998 edited part of the astronomical and astrological treatise, in the process also commenting on the horoscope, and is in the process of preparing a complete edition.14 Jean-Patrice Boudet in his 2008 article on princely horoscopes makes brief mention of Baldwin’s horoscope, but without offering any new insights.15 In 2010 Charles Burnett summarily discussed the treatise in an article dealing with the translation of astrological works in Byzantium.16 Recently the entire manuscript containing the horoscope, the astrological treatise, and its versified introduction was made available online through the Gallica database of the Parisian Bibliothèque nationale, which is accessible to the general public. In the present study I intend to use this “new” set of texts as a beginning point to broaden our knowledge of various aspects of the history of 13th-century Latin-Byzantine Constantinople. In the first chapter I propose a new date of composition for the horoscope and the accompanying documents, identifying them as originating in the Latin capital around 1260. This will be essential for my further evaluation of the texts. In the process I will also discuss authorship, context, and aim. The rest of the book is divided into two main parts, each treating a thematic domain for which these sources provide important new information. The first part will deal with various aspects of imperial politics, with the second chapter focusing on the nature of the Latin emperors’ and especially Baldwin ii’s political ideology. In the third chapter I investigate elements of the internal politics, and factional strife in particular, at the Constantinopolitan 11 12 13 14

15 16

Paul E. Riant, “Inventaire sommaire des manuscrits relatifs à l’histoire et à la géographie de l’Orient latin,”Archives de l’Orient latin 2 (1884) 147. Pierre Duhem, Le système du monde. Histoire des doctrines cosmologiques de Platon à Copernic (Paris, 1913–1959), 3:130–152, 8:399–416. Maxime Préaud, “L’horoscope de Baudoin de Courtenay, empereur latin d’Orient,” Anagrom 3–4 (1973) 9–45. Stephen Dörr, Der alteste Astronomietraktat in franzosischer Sprache: L’Introductoire d’astronomie. Edition und lexikalische Analyse, Beihefte zur Zeitschrift für Romanische Philologie 289 (Tübingen, 1998). The author has announced an edition of the entire treatise in the series Classiques français du Moyen Âge (Champion). Jean-Patrice Boudet, “Les horoscopes princiers dans l’Occident médiéval (XIIe-XVe siècle), ” Micrologus 16 (2008) 373–395. Charles Burnett, “Astrological Translations in Byzantium,” in Actes du symposium international “Le Livre. La Roumanie. L’Europe.” 4ème édition, 20–23 Septembre 2011 (Bucharest, 2012), 3:178–183.

Introduction

5

court during the reigns of John of Brienne and Baldwin ii. The fourth chapter examines aspects of the empire’s foreign policies, focusing on the diplomatic relations with Alfonso x of Castile. The second part will treat cultural, intellectual, and artistic life in the Queen of Cities on the verge of the Nicaean (re)conquest of 1261, with the fifth chapter discussing possible Western and Byzantine influences on our corpus of texts. Next I contextualize my findings by analyzing cultural life in general in mid-13th-century Constantinople in the sixth chapter, with a discussion of literature and science, and with painting in the seventh chapter a picture of the arts under the Latin emperors. In conclusion I synthesize the main insights that my analysis of this broad selection of topics—dependent on the content and character of the corpus of astrological texts—has yielded. In this way I hope to make a meaningful contribution to our understanding of the nature of Latin-Byzantine Constantinopolitan society as it developed after 1204. In three appendixes I provide an edition of both Baldwin ii’s horoscope, the verse introduction to the astrological/astronomical treatise, and a partial edition of the treatise, focusing on those chapters that are the most interesting from the perspective of the Latin empire’s political and sociocultural history (as opposed to a history of science approach).

Chapter 1

Manuscript Tradition, Authorship, Date & Aim The combination of the interrelated horoscope, versified introduction, and astrological treatise has, as far as I know, come down to us in only a single manuscript, which has been dated to the last third of the 13th century.1 The manuscript first contains the introduction, then the treatise, next four astrological texts by three well-known Arabic scholars translated into Old French (from the Latin versions of these texts), and lastly the horoscope.2 It seems clear that the grouping of these texts in a single manucript was not haphazard but purposeful, with the intention of presenting them as a unit. This is borne out by the sequence of the texts: first the short introductory poem on both astrology and on Baldwin’s horoscope (which explicitly refers to the following text), secondly the original general treatise in prose on astronomy and astrology, thirdly specialized translated texts on different aspects of the astrological science (natal astrology, the influence of eclipses, the influence of conjunctions of celestial bodies, etc.), and finally as a sort of culmination the horoscope itself and its interpretation, following the rules elucidated in the previous texts. The preserved manuscript, nevertheless, does not appear to be the autograph version. In the astrological prose treatise, in a number of places, remarks in the same hand have been written in the margins. For example, concerning three hypotheses explaining the retrogradation of planets the scribe notes in the margin: ces opinions retornent tout a un. It seems unlikely that an author 1 Paris, Bibliothèque nationale de France, fr. 1353. See also Duhem, Le système du monde, 3:132; Préaud, “L’horoscope de Baudoin de Courtenay,” 10; Dörr, Der älteste Astronomietraktat, 8–9. 2 The translated Arabic treatises contained in BnF, fr. 1353 are: (a) Li livres Abu Ali des nativitez des enfenz de lor fortune (f. 66r-f. 80v), translated (probably) from the Latin translation (1153) by John of Sevilla, an important member of what has been called the Toledo School of Translators, entitled Albohali de judiciis nativitatum liber unus, originally written by the Arabic scholar Abu Ali al-Khayyat (circa 770–835) under the title Kitab al-Mawalid (or “Book of Nativities”); (b) Li epistles Messehala es choses de l’eclipse del Soloil et de la Lune es conjunctions des planets (f. 80v-f. 83r), translated from Sevilla’s translation entitled Epistola de rebus eclipsium et de conjunctionibus planetarum, originally composed by the Persian Jewish scholar Masha’allah (circa 762–815); (c) Li livre des flors de Abumaxar (f. 83r-f. 94v), translated from Sevilla’s Albumasaris flores astrologiae, itself a translation of the Kitab tahawil sini al-ʿalam (“Book of the revolutions of the world’s years”) by the Persian scholar Abu Maʿshar’s (°787–†886); (d) the Livre des corruptions de l’air et de choses de l’air (f. 95r-f. 100v), an extract from Abu Maʿshar’s Kitab al-Qiranat (“Book of conjunctions”), as translated by Sevilla (De magnis conjunctionibus). See also Dörr, Der älteste Astronomietraktat, 20–21.

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Manuscript Tradition, Authorship, Date & Aim

7

would make critical observations of this kind with regard to their own work. Furthermore there are a number of unintentional repetitions of phrases which make it likely that the version in the manuscript under consideration is not the author’s autograph but rather a copy.3 Finally it should be noted that the prose treatise on astrology—separately without the other texts—has also been preserved in a 14th-century manuscript. It is this later version that contains the ­title—Introductoire d’Astronomie—under which the treatise has become known in modern historiography.4 None of these texts or manuscripts mentions the name of the author (or translator), who therefore remains anonymous. Still they contain a number of clues that enable us to sketch a rough portrait. The dedication of the astronomical treatise provides a good starting point. In the second chapter, our author states that he has written the book “a le hennor del tres haut empereor B., par la grace de Deu tres feel en Jhesu Christ, coroné de Deu, governeor de Romanie/ Romains et touz tems accroissant por cui nos commençons ce livre.”5 The fact that the work commenced for Baldwin ii in itself suggests that our author had a connection with the emperor. The use of imperial address confirms this: this type of intitulatio is only to be found in documents emanating from the imperial chancery itself. Other sources—for example chronicles, papal and other letters or charters—invariably use titles such as imperator Constantinopolitanus or imperator Romaniae, or their French equivalents, but never the official title the Latin emperors claimed for themselves. The title thus indicates that our author was familiar with the workings of the imperial chancery or with the imperial court at large, and must, somehow, have belonged to the emperor’s entourage. This is confirmed by the fact that in the final segment of the preserved part of the horoscope itself, Baldwin ii is repeatedly referred to as nostre segnor.6 3 Example of a marginal note: BnF, fr. 1353, f. 26r (“these opinions all come down to one”). ­Example of an unintentional repetition: BnF, fr. 1353, f. 30v-f. 31r. 4 BnF, fr. 613, f. 87r-f. 133r. See also:Dörr, Der älteste Astronomietraktat, 8. 5 BnF, fr. 1353, f. 9r (= Appendix 3, Ch. 2, §8) reads de Romanie, but BnF, fr. 613, f. 88v reads de Romains (“in honour of the very exalted emperor B., by the grace of God very faithful in Christ, crowned by God, governour of Romania/the Romans, and always augmenting, for whom we begin this book”). Almost from the start of Latin imperial rule in Constantinople in 1204, the imperial chancery used both forms simultaneously with regard to the imperial intitulatio: Romains/Romanorum mostly in documents concerning the internal administration or addressed to local or neighboring recipients, Romanie/Romaniae mostly in documents addressed to Western recipients, a concession to—and clearly an innovation compared with the Byzantine tradition before 1204—the dominant Western conception of the Byzantine emperors in the context of the so-called two-emperors-problem (Van Tricht, The Latin Renovatio of Byzantium, 72–77). See also below. 6 BnF, fr. 1353, f. 102vb (= Appendix 3, §14–15, “our lord”).

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Chapter 1

A number of theologically tinged passages and occasional biblical references in the astronomical treatise further indicate that our author was most likely a cleric. He, for example, likens the body and soul of the members of the Sainte Eglise to the dark and the bright side of the moon, with both the Holy Church and its members receiving their light from the true sun Jesus Christ “en cui nos vivons et somes ce que nos somes si cum dist li apostles.”7 We may, therefore, picture our author as holding a chancery position or a prebend in one of the metropolitan churches where the emperor had benefices to bestow (such as the palace churches: the Theotokos ton Blachernon church in the Blacherna Palace and the Nea church in the Great Palace, known respectively as Sancta Maria de Blacherna and Sanctus Michael de Bucca Leonis under Latin rule), or a court title or combination of these. This ties in well with the current view on court astrology in this period, in the West as in Byzantium: being an astrologer in a ruler’s entourage not so much as a full-time profession, but rather as an occupation in addition to other, more official functions.8 As regards our author’s geographic origins, a section in the astronomical treatise on the eight climaz (or klimata) in which the world is divided, may provide a clue. The chapter combines the geographical information on the klimata in Martianus Capella’s De Nuptiis and in Abu Maʿshar’s Introductorium Maius, but in two instances our author adds a single region, namely Flanders, to the regions (or parts thereof) that these klimata comprise.9 This may simply be a reflection of Baldwin ii’s personal connection with Flanders, but—given his connection with the Constantinopolitan court—our author or his family may well have shared such Flemish roots with the emperor. The Latin imperial dynasty indeed had a close connection with Flanders. Marguerite, the mother of the emperors Baldwin i (1204–1205) and Henry (1206–1216) and of e­ mpress Yolande (1217–1219), was the sister of the Flemish count Philip of Alsace (1168–1191). Marguerite and her husband, Baldwin v of Hainaut (1171–1195), had ­succeeded the latter in Flanders in 1191. Emperor Baldwin i himself succeeded

7 BnF, fr. 1353, f. 29ra (“in whom we live and are what we are as the apostle says”). The reference to Saint Paul (li apostles): 1 Cor 8, 6. 8 John D. North, “Scholars and Power: Astrologers at the Courts of Medieval Europe,” in Josep Batllo Ortiz, Pasqual Bernat Lopez, and Roser Puig Aguilar, eds., Actes de la vi Trobada d’Historià de la Ciència i de la Tècnic (Barcelona, 2002), 22–23. 9 BnF, fr. 1353, f. 14vb (= Dörr, Der älteste Astronomietraktat, §18, p. 50). Martianus Capella, De nuptiis Philologiae et Mercurii, in James Willis, ed., Martianus Capella, Bibliotheca scriptorum Graecorum et Romanorum Teubneriana (Leipzig, 1983), §876–877. Abu Maʿsar al-Balhi, Liber introductorii maioris ad scientiam judiciorum astrorum. vol. 5/2: Texte latin de Jean de Séville avec la Révision par Gérard de Crémone, ed. Richard Lemay (Napoli, 1995), 235–239.

Manuscript Tradition, Authorship, Date & Aim

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his parents in both Flanders (1194) and Hainaut (1195).10 His brother Henry held several fiefs situated in Flanders.11 The same holds true for their nephew Robert of Courtenay (1221–1227).12 His brother Baldwin ii also had possessions in Flanders, among others the town of Biervliet, although his main western possessions (and of his parents) were the county of Namur and the lordship of Courtenay. Nevertheless, on his seals he referred in Greek to his lineage as Φλάνρας.13 In these emperors’ wake, a number of Constantinopolitan leading families, barons and clerics, had Flemish origins. Some of them had arrived with the crusader army in 1204, but others in later years; for example, in the company of new emperors-elect coming to Constantinople from the West, or in the context of crusading aid destined for Latin Romania.14 As regards social standing it is difficult to decide whether he belonged to one of the leading Constantinopolitan lineages of (possibly) Flemish origin, or was of a more modest origin and thanked his presence at Baldwin ii’s court not so much to family status, but rather to personal achievement or competencies leading the way to his acceptance as a familiaris of the emperor. A look into our author’s educational background, which will necessitate a brief digression on the educational context in Latin-Byzantine Constantinople in general, may provide a starting point to explore this matter. The astronomical treatise makes clear that our author had enjoyed a higher education. Throughout the work he presents himself as familiar with the seven arz liberals (liberal arts). Indeed, the study of astronomy and astrology—a science that he learned “des mellors clers senz dotance qui soient ore coneu”—is determined as the completion of an education in the liberal arts. Perhaps—if born in Flanders and moving to Constantinople later—he had obtained a bachelor’s or master’s degree from the relatively nearby university of Paris. If on the other hand he was born in the Byzantine capital and spent his youth there, he perhaps was instructed in the artes in one of the functioning major local ecclesiastical institutions, whether a palace church or not.15 10 11 12 13 14 15

Robert L. Wolff, “Baldwin of Flanders and Hainaut, First latin emperor of Constantinople. His life, death and resurrection, 1172–1225,” Speculum 27 (1952) 281–322. Filip Van Tricht, “De jongelingenjaren van een keizer van Konstantinopel. Hendrik van Vlaanderen en Henegouwen (1177–1202),” Tijdschrift voor Geschiedenis 111 (1998) 198–202. Filip Van Tricht, “Robert of Courtenay (1221–1227): an idiot on the throne of Constantinople?” Speculum 88 (2013) 1022. Jean Bovesse, “Notes sur Harelbeke et Biervliet dans le cadre de l’histoire des Maisons de Namur et de France,” Bulletin de la Commission Royale d’Histoire 150 (1984) 460–462. On Baldwin ii’s use of the term Φλάνρας, see also Chapter 2. Van Tricht, The Latin Renovatio of Byzantium, 282–284. See on the author’s familiarity with the liberal arts, for example in the verse introduction: BnF, fr. 1353, f. 3rb (= Appendix 1, v107–113), “from without doubt the best clerics that are

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This suggestion warrants a short digression on the educational situation in Constantinople in the years 1204–1261, a subject that has received little attention in modern historiography, no doubt due to the paucity of available sources. Constantinides maintains the view that after 1204, higher education in Constantinople came to an abrupt end. He cannot imagine any higher education in the capital without the presence of patrons, the emperor and the patriarch, both of whom had fled the city.16 Available source material, however, allows for an alternative perspective. The contemporary chronicler and statesman George Akropolites (1217–1282) in his chronicle testifies to the fact that decent private teachers and public schools were certainly available in Constantinople for the first two stages of the three-stage Byzantine education system, the hiera grammata (primary education) and the enkyklios paideia (grammar, poetry, rethoric, and lower mathematics). The chronicler records that until his sixteenth year he had enjoyed his grammar education in Constantinople and with regard to the quality of the education he received he has nothing negative to add.17 Perhaps Akropolites attended the grammar school of Saint Paul attached to the Orphanotropheion, patronaged by the Komnenoi emperors. Around 1206 it still appears to have existed: the funeral oration by Nicholas Mesarites, by 1214 metropolitan of Ephesos in the Nicaean empire, for his brother John (†1207), who was a monk, mentions one John Kontotheodoros as maistor of this “first grammar school”—as it was commonly known—together with his brother in the context of Church union discussions taking place in September 1206 with papal legate Benedict, cardinal of Saint Suzanna.18 Michael Angold has pointed out that John Mesarites, in spite of his reputation as a champion

16 17 18

known today”); and in the Introductoire d’Astronomie: BnF, fr. 1353, f. 7ra (= Appendix 3, Ch. 1, §1) and f. 62vb (= Appendix 3, Ch. 189, §1). It is to be noted that if our author was born in Constantinople this does not exclude the possibility of a higher education in the West. See for example, William of Tyre, who was born in Jerusalem, but studied in the West for many years (see Chapter 6, note 96). Costas N. Constantinides, Higher Education in Byzantium in the Thirteenth and Early Fourteenth Centuries (1204–ca. 1310) (Nicosia, 1982), 6, 52. Georgios Akropolites, Historia, ed. August Heisenberg, Georgii Acropolitae Opera 1 (Leipzig, 1903), §29. Constantinides, Higher Education in Byzantium, 1–2. Nikolaos Mesarites, Die Disputation mit dem Kardinallegaten Benedikt und dem lateinischen Patriarchen Thomas Morosini am 30. August 1206, in August Heisenberg, ed., “Neue Quellen zur Geschichte des lateinischen Kaisertums und der Kirchenunion 2/1,” Sitzungsberichte der Bayerischen Akademie der Wissenschaften. Philosophisch-philologische und historische Klasse (1923, 2. Abteilung), 15. See also Van Tricht, The Latin Renovatio of Byzantium, 118–119. On the Orphanotreipheion in general: Raymond Janin, La Géographie Ecclésiasique de l’Empire byzantin. Première partie: le Siège de Constantinople et le Patriarcat oecuménique. Tome 3: Les églises et les monastère, 2nd ed. (Paris, 1969), 567–568; Paul Magdalino, The Empire of Manuel i Komnenos (1143–1180) (Cambridge, 1993), 330.

Manuscript Tradition, Authorship, Date & Aim

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of the B ­ yzantine cause, was rather close with the Latins and was prepared to compromise.19 This may also have been true for his fellow debater maistor Kontotheodoros. It is probably in this Saint Paul church that a Latin chapter was instated after 1204: members of it having been mentioned in papal letters from March 1208. Educational activity, in any case, seems to have continued there: several Latin magistri are attested. There is no reason to think that Greek educational activity therefore should have ceased: Kontotheodoros seems to have still been in place in 1206 at the local grammar school. Byzantines with the expertise to succeed Kontotheodoros were certainly available: the Latin emperors all had educated Byzantines in their entourage as close collaborators from which a new head of the school might have been chosen.20 Shortly after the Nicaean reconquest of Constantinople in 1261, the grammar school in the Orphanotropheion was reopened by Michael viii Paleologos.21 Taken together with Mesarites’ and Akropolites’ post-1204 testimony this may be taken to indicate continuity as an educational center in the preceding decades (though perhaps not until 1261 or in a form recognizable or acceptable for the Nicaean Byzantines), although Mergiali—not familiar it seems with the passage by Mesarites—does not take this possibility into consideration. At sixteen then, in the 1230s, Akropolites’ father sent him to John iii ­Vatatzes’ (1221–1254) court to complete his schooling. This should, however, not be taken to mean that in the Queen of Cities higher education was not available. Akropolites does not state or imply this. His father’s choice for Nicaea was probably rather politically than educationally motivated. In the 1230s the, at first, promising Latin empire was in steep decline while Nicaea was now firmly on the rise. Wishing to guarantee his talented son a bright future, he obviously changed sides, betting on the winning horse. Indeed, a number of elements indicate that higher education did not come to a full stop in 1204. The first Latin emperor, Baldwin i, showed a keen interest in educational affairs, mainly from the perspective of establishing ecclesiastical union. At the emperor’s request, Innocent iii, around May 1205, exhorted the magistri and scholares of the U ­ niversity of Paris to depart for Constantinople in order to reform the literarum studium.22 The collège de Constantinople in Paris, a name it retained until 1362, might have been founded as a byproduct of this initiative, possibly to instruct young Byzantines and other Oriental christians in the Catholic 19 Angold, The Fourth Crusade: Event and Context, 195–196. 20 On these Byzantine collaborators: Van Tricht, The Latin Renovatio of Byzantium, 282–284 . 21 Sophia Mergiali-Falangas, “L’Ecole Saint Paul de l’Orphelinat à Constantinople: bref aperçu sur son statut et son histoire, ” Revue des Etudes Byzantines 49 (1991) 244–245. 22 Innocentius iii, Regesta, ed. Jacques-Paul Migne, Patrologia Latina 215 (Roma, 1855), n° 71, col. 637.

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faith. The c­ ollege’s history however is obscure. Without original sources to provide information it has been conjectured that Baldwin i together with Innocent III could have been instrumental in its foundation, but the later (titular) Latin patriarch of ­Constantinople, Pietro Correr (1288–1302), has also been put forward as the possible founder.23 In Constantinople a number of Western magistri attached to various metropolitan ecclesiastical institutions are attested shortly after 1204. Although some had probably come to Constantinople in the context of the Fourth Crusade, others may have joined their countrymen at a later stage. Their presence may indicate that Baldwin’s and Innocent’s appeal met with some success. However, on the basis of the meager available source material it is difficult to ascertain the educational responsibilities they may or must have had. The papal registers mention a number of magistri, but invariably in the context of local conflicts between clerics, which—not surprisingly—for the most part arose in the first few, formative years after 1204.24 Nevertheless, it is probably no coincidence that out of about twenty attested magistri attached to churches in Constantinople in the years 1204–1261, fifteen appear to have belonged to three institutions which before 1204 had been part of the Patriarchal School (Saint Sophia, probably Saint Paul in the Orphanotropheion and the Theotokos Chalkoprateia church) that had been responsible for higher secular and religious education in the capital.25 In Saint Sophia itself we find in 1205, magister and canon Henry, recommended by Pope Innocent to patriarch Thomas Morosini referring to his knowledge (scientia), magister and canon Clemens in 1206–circa 1223, magister and patriarchal procurator B in 1210 (perhaps to be identified with magister and canon Boniface mentioned in the same year, or with magister and canon 23 Charles Jourdain, “Un collège oriental à Paris au treizième siècle,” Revue catholique 20 (1862) 49–55. Marie-Henriette Jullien de Pommerol, “Les origines du collège de La Marche à Paris,” in Caroline Bourlet, Annie Dufour, and Lucie Foster, eds., L’écrit dans la société médiévale. Divers aspects de sa pratique du XIe au XVe siècle. Textes en hommage à Lucie Fossier (Paris, 1991), 183–194. Andrew G. Traver, “Intellectual Relations Between the Latin Empire of Constantinople and the University of Paris,” in Michael Aradas and Nicholas C. Pappas, eds., Themes in European History: Essays from the 2nd International Conference on European History Atiner. Athens Institute for Education and Research (Athens, 2005), 185–186. Hilde De Ridder-Simoens, “Mobility,” in idem (eds.), Universities in the Middle Ages, A History of the University in Europe 1 (Cambridge, 1992), 284. 24 Constantinides does not provide any source reference for his statement that the University of Paris refused to cooperate with Baldwin (Constantinides, Higher Education in Byzantium, 32 n. 5). 25 Robert Browning, “The Patriarchal School at Constantinople in the Twelfth Century,” Byzantion 32 (1962) 171–178. Constantinides, Higher Education in Byzantium, 50–52.

Manuscript Tradition, Authorship, Date & Aim

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Blasius from Piacenza, appointed in 1209), magister and imperial messenger G in 1222, the magistri and canons Peter, Yves, and John in 1226, the magistri and canons Frederick and Odo in 1237, and magister Rainald in 1264.26 In 1208–10 we find magistri Peter of Montigny, P (perhaps to be identified with Peter), C, G, and an anonymous (perhaps to be identified with one of the former, though not with Peter) as canons of a Latinized Saint Paul church. Given this concentration of magistri it is tempting to identify this with the Saint Paul church attached to the Orphanotropheion, although Janin—without argumentation— opts for the Saint Paul church near the forum of Constantine.27 As just seen this Saint Paul church in the Orphanotropheion, together with the patriarchal church, had been one of the educational centers of the Patriarchal School (not to be confused with the already mentioned grammar school in the same Orphanotropheion complex). In 1208, in another branch of the Patriarchal School, the Theotokos Chalkoprateia church, we find an anonymous dean also with the title of magister.28 In particular the simultaneous presence in Saint Paul of three to five Western magistri and the concentration of magistri in Saint Sophia indicates that educational activities were still being organized. This 26

Henry: Innocentius iii, Regesta, PL 215, n° 136, col. 715. Clemens: ibid., n° 133, col. 951 (1206); Honorius iii, Bullarium Hellenicum. Letters to Frankish Greece and Constantinople, ed. William O. Duba and Christopher C. Schabel, Mediterranean Nexus 1100–1700 (Leuven, 2015), n° 215, 258 (1223). B: Innocentius iii, Regesta, PL 216, n°44, col. 230. Boniface: Honorius iii, Bullarium Hellenicum, n° 87, 184–185. Blasius: Innocentius iii, Regesta, PL 216, n° 105, col. 122. G: ibid., n° 158 (possibly to be identified with Gilbert, representative of the Constantinopolitan clergy in the same year, n°148). Peter, Yves, and John: ibid., n° 277. Frederick and Odo: Honorius iii et Gregorius ix, Acta, ed. Aloysius L. Tautu, Pontificia Commissio ad redigendum Codicem Iuris Canonici Orientalis. Fontes. Series iii 3 (Città del Vaticano, 1950), n° 219. Rainald: Urbanus iv, Les registres (1261–1264), ed. Jean Guiraud and Suzanne Clémencet, Registres des papes du XIIIe siècle (Paris, 1900–1958), n° 1564. 27 Peter of Montigny: Innocentius iii, Regesta, PL 215, n° 59, col. 1378; n° 77, col. 1393; PL 216, n° 19, col. 219. P: PL 215, n° 53, col. 1376. C: PL 215, n° 49, col. 1375. G: PL 215, n° 50, col. 1375; n° 60, col. 1379; PL 216, n° 19, col. 219. Anonymous: PL 215, n° 59, col. 1378. 28 Innocentius iii, Regesta, PL 215, n° 59, col. 1378. The other attested magistri attached to Constantinopolitan churches: magister W. Cocart, provost of Saint Trinity, attested in 1208 (PL 215, n° 37, col. 1363 and n° 78, col. 1395); magister Gilbert, canon of the Holy Apostles Church, attested in 1211 (PL 216, n° 16, col. 392); magister G, canon of Sanctus Michael de Bucca Leone (or Nea Church) in the Great Palace (or Boukoleon Palace) in 1221 (Honorius iii, Bullarium Hellenicum, n° 107). Magistri are of course also attested in the Latin emperors’ entourage, most of them no doubt were connected to the imperial palace churches (see magister G). For example chancellor John of Noyon (Jean Longnon, Les compagnons de Villehardouin. Recherche sur les croisés de la quatrième croisade, Hautes études médiévales et modernes 30 (Geneva, 1978), 165–166); Amaury, provost of Arras (ibid., 192); chancellor Warin, later archbishop of Thessaloniki (ibid., 187); Daniel of Ecaussines (Paul E. Riant, Exuviae sacrae Constantinopolitanae (Geneva, 1876), 2: n° 23).

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may also have been the case in the Theotokos Chalkoprateia. With regard to Saint Sophia, it is clear from a 1225 papal letter that a certain cancellarius W was supposed to teach canon law there.29 That during Latin Constantinople’s later years few magistri are attested, can easily be explained by the fact that the number of papal letters dealing with the Queen of Cities drops drastically during this period. The three other churches that had been branches of the Patriarchal School before 1204 appear not to have been occupied by Latin clerics: Saint Peter (near Saint Sophia), Saint Theodore of Sphorakios, and the Christ tou Chalkitou church.30 Whether higher education in any of these institutions was still being organized after 1204 is difficult to determine, but higher education in any case appears to have remained available for Byzantines in the capital. The near-contemporary scholar and chronicler George Pachymeres (1242–circa 1310), referring to events in 1261, praises one of Baldwin ii’s Byzantine confidants, phylax John, as a pensive man whose thoughts easily penetrated the most profound matters.31 This description, in my opinion, implies that John was not merely an intelligent man, but a well educated intellectual. Indeed, John nicely fits Franz Tinnefeld’s definition of the Byzantine intellectual: “any person who had a special reputation for his/her erudition.”32 It seems logical then to assume that John had enjoyed some form of higher education in Constantinople, perhaps in one of the branches of the pre-1204 Patriarchal School or simply in a private context, and perhaps, given his reputation, was somehow involved in the c­ ontinuation 29

30

31 32

W had obtained a prebend to do so around 1218–1221: Honorius iii, Bullarium Hellenicum, n° 262. Canon 11 of the Fourth Lateran Council in 1215 confirmed that each cathedral church should appoint a schoolmaster to instruct the clergy and poor scholars in the liberal arts free of charge, and had prescribed that in addition each metropolitan church schould provide a prebend for someone competent to teach theology as well. Whether W’s appointment should be seen in this context is unclear (compare for example, James A. Brundage, “Latin jurists in the Levant. The legal elite of the Crusader States,” in Maya Shatzmiller, ed., Crusaders and Muslims in twelfth-century Syria, The Medieval Mediterranean 1 (Leiden, 1993), 27–28). Mergiali-Falangas, “L’école Saint Paul de l’Orphelinat à Constantinople,” 241; Raymond Janin, “Les sanctuaires de Byzance sous la domination latine,” Etudes Byzantines 2 (1944) 134–184; Eugenio Dalleggio d’Allessio, “Les sanctuaires urbains et suburbains de Byzance sous la domination latine, 1204–1261,” Revue des études byzantines 12 (1953) 50–61. Georgios Pachymeres, Relations historiques, ed. Albert Failler, trans. Vitalien Laurent, Corpus Fontium Historiae Byzantinae. Series Parisienses 24/1-2 (Paris, 1984), lib. 2, §27, 200–201. This wording somewhat recalls the description by our author of the artes liberales and other sciences as parfonde clergie BnF, fr. 1353, f. 7ra (=Appendix 3, Ch. 1, §1). Franz Tinnefeld, “Intellectuals in Late Byzantine Thessalonike,” Dumbarton Oaks Papers 57 (2003) 153.

Manuscript Tradition, Authorship, Date & Aim

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of higher Greek/Byzantine education in the capital.33 If so, in view of his connection to Emperor Baldwin ii, the imperial court might somehow have played a part in this, and perhaps Latin and Byzantine higher education in the capital should not be seen as two separate worlds (see John Kontotheodoros at the probably Latinized Orphanotropheion). With regard to the latter aspect, mendicant establishments in the capital should also be mentioned. As we shall see, the metropolitan Dominican and Franciscan convents were indeed important intellectual centers with ample room for Latin-Byzantine exchange, which must have functioned as educational centers (given the emphasis on education in the internal organization of both orders). By 1261, however, the old Patriarchal School no longer existed in any form acceptable to the reconquering Nicaeans. In this context, Michael viii Paleologos shortly after 1261 appointed George Akropolites as head of a new imperial institution for secular higher education. The Patriarchal School was reestablished in 1265 by patriarch Germanos iii Markoutzas (1265–1266) with Manuel Holobolos as supervisor.34 Perhaps the author of the astronomical/astrological texts was, as I suggested for phylax John, part of a (hypothetical) metropolitan higher educational organization whatever form it took, either based on the pre-1204 educational centers of the Patriarchal School or some other imperial or private organizational structure. Indeed, his astronomical treatise indicates that he surely was a person interested in educating people and in divulging scientific knowledge. Given his connection to Baldwin, he may have fulfilled his educational responsibilities with some form of imperial patronage. Be all this as it may, in the West a higher education was in this period more common for people 33

Around 1220, higher education was in any case available under the Latin emperors. In the Skamandros or Troad region a certain Prodromos, supposedly hegoumenos of a local monastery, taught arithmetic, geometry, astronomy, syllogistics, and physics. Nikephoros Blemmydes (1197–1272), who left Nicaea because, as he himself states, higher (secular) education was at that time not available there, was one of his pupils, see Nikephoros Blemmydes, Autobiographia sive Curriculum Vitae necnon Epistola universalior, ed. Joseph A. Munitiz, Corpus Christianorum. Series Graeca 19 (Turnhout, 1984), lib. 1, §46. Michael Angold has questioned Blemmydes’ statement, but without adducing convincing ­arguments to disprove it (Angold, The Fourth Crusade: Event and Context, 207–209). See also Anna Kladova, “The ‘Autobiography’ of Nikephoros Blemmydes. On the Issue of relations between Monasticism and Scholarship in Byzantium,” Scrinium 9 (2013) 253; John S. Langdon, John iii Ducas Vatatzes’ Byzantine Empire in Anatolian Exile, 1222–54. The Legacy of His Diplomatic, Military and Internal Program for the “Restitutio Orbis” (Ann Arbor, 1980), 64–65. On private forms of education in Constantinople in the 12th century, see Magdalino, The Empire of Manuel i Komnenos, 329 (“much education at all levels was a matter of informal classes in the homes of intellectuals”). Constantinides, Higher Education in Byzantium, 8–9. 34 Constantinides, Higher Education in Byzantium, 32, 52.

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of (relatively) modest origin—the lower reaches of the feudal aristocracy or the urban elites—rather than for people belonging to the upper reaches of society, baronial and princely families, and both groups—feudal and urban— were represented at princely courts.35 In Byzantium, on the other hand, both the imperial aristocracy and the civil elite engaged in higher education for, as Constantinides states, chief positions at court and in the Church required a higher education.36 Such Byzantine social patterns may have influenced the Latin elite. I will return to this idea further on. The social status of our author remains obscure, although I am inclined to ascribe to him relatively modest social origins. If I was to hazard an educated guess as to the identity of our anonymous author, however, two persons who belonged to the imperial entourage come into view. The first is Légiers, imperial chancellor and dean of the patriarchal church of Saint Sophia. He is attested only once in a 1246 charter donating—together with Stephen, treasurer of Saint Sophia, and Walter, dean of the Theotokos Panachrantos church—a relic from this latter church to imperial constable Geoffrey of Merry.37 The second is magister Robert of Buccaleone. He is attested as caniclius—or epi tou kanikleiou, a Byzantine chancery functionary—of titular Emperor Philip of Courtenay (1273–1283) in 1277 and after the latter’s death became a familiaris of Philip’s father-in-law Charles i of Anjou, count of Provence (1246–1285) and king of Sicily (1266–1285).38 His surname—a reference no doubt to the imperial Boukoleon palace in Constantinople (Bucca Leonis in Latin documents)—suggests that he had already been in imperial service before the ­Nicaean take-over of Constantinople in 1261. Nothing more is known concerning either functionary, so these attempts at identifying our author remain highly speculative. 35

Christine Renardy, Le monde des maîtres universitaires du diocèse de Liège 1140–1350. Recherches sur sa composition et ses activités, Bibliothèque de la Faculté de Philosophie et Lettres de l’Université de Liège 227 (Paris, 1979), 112. Jacques Pycke, Le chapitre cathédral Notre-Dame de Tournai de la fin du XIe à la fin du XIIIe siècle. Son organisation, sa vie, ses membres, Recueil de travaux d’histoire et de philologie de l’université de Louvain 30 (6e série) (Louvain-la-Neuve, 1986), 86. Jean-Pierre Gerzaguet, L’Abbaye d’Anchin de sa fondation (1079) au XIVe siècle. Essor, vie et rayonnement d’une grande communauté bénédictine, Histoire et civilisations (Paris, 1997), 115–119. 36 Constantinides, Higher Education in Byzantium, 1. 37 Riant, Exuviae Sacrae Constantinopolitanae, 2: n° 76. On Geoffrey of Merry, see Longnon, Recherches sur la vie de Geoffroy de Villehardouin, 116–120. 38 Bianca Mazzoleni, ed., Gli atti perduti della cancellaria angioina tranuntati da Carlo de Lellis, Regesta Chartarum Italiae 25 (Rome, 1939), 1: n° 204, p. 27 and n° 501, p. 622. On the close connection from 1267 between Charles of Anjou and the titular Latin emperors, see Jean Longnon, “Le rattachement de la principauté de Morée au royaume de Sicile en 1267,” Journal des Savants (1942) 134–143. Chrissis, Crusading in Frankish Greece, 204–217.

Manuscript Tradition, Authorship, Date & Aim

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The date of our corpus of texts is of course essential in order to interpret them correctly. The horoscope and the related horoscopic section in the introductory poem contain a number of elements that are useful in this respect. In the introductory poem it is stated that at Baldwin’s birth (1217) three astrologers composed his nativity chart and on this basis predicted his future. This account must of course be a (at least partial) fiction since these predictions—as presented in the horoscope in our manuscript and in the versified introduction— a bit too successfully foretell a number of events that we know, through other historical sources, to have occurred during the emperor’s lifetime, for example his well-known and repeated travels to the papal and French royal courts (1236– 1240 and 1244–1247/48), his marriage to a lady estroite des hauz rois d’Espagne, a clear reference to Baldwin’s wife Mary of Brienne, daughter of Berengaria of Leon/Castile and John of Brienne, king of Jerusalem (1211–1225) and emperor of Constantinople (1229/1231–1237), and the mortgage of their son to a number of merchants.39 According to North, nativities were usually cast at the time of birth, but were not meant to be interpreted only once.40 This perhaps may also have been the case for Baldwin’s nativity: originally composed in 1217 but then (re)interpreted and reworked at later stages in his life. Paris already reasoned that the horoscope—and the accompanying horoscopic section in the introductory poem—as it has come down to us needs to be dated shortly after the most recent successfully predicted events. He has, in my opinion, correctly identified these events with Philip of Courtenay’s redemption by Alfonso x of Castile (1258–1270) from a number of Venetian merchants who held him in custody in the Serenissima and his subsequent stay at the Castilian court, where he was knighted by Alfonso. Thereafter, the horoscope drifts from historical reality as we know it. However, Paris dated this redemption and stay in 1269, assuming that Philip had only been redeemed in that year, and thus he dated our texts in the following year 1270.41 Wolff has since convincingly argued on the basis of a source not known to Paris that the mortgaged Philip had already been redeemed before 1 May 1261. Indeed, in a charter bearing this date Philip is mentioned as being present in Beauvais witnessing the translation of a number of relics in the company of, among others, the French king Louis ix (1226–1270). Wolff’s terminus post quem for Philip’s redemption is 10 June 1259, the date of a charter mentioning Philip as still being in custody in 39 40 41

BnF, fr.1353, f. 4rb (=Appendix 1, v360, “descended from the exalted kings of Spain”). North, “Scholars and power,” 20. Paris, “Astrologue anonyme,” 494. Duhem took over Paris’ chronology (Duhem, Le système du monde, 3: 132). Recently, Dörr—not familiar with either Wolff’s or Préaud’s subsequent work—also adopted Paris’ date for the horoscope (Dörr, Der älteste Astronomietraktat, 8–9).

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Venice. This latter date can also serve as a secure terminus post quem for Baldwin’s horoscope, since—if we are to believe our author—­Philip’s redemption was immediately followed by his stay at Alfonso’s court, where he was knighted. This ceremony must then have taken place in September–­December 1259 or in 1260, since a document not used by Wolff shows that by 31 August 1259 ­Philip already had been r­ edeemed and as stated by May 1261 is attested in France.42 Wolff had dated Philip’s knighting—which, unfamiliar with Baldwin’s horoscope, he only knew through chronologically confusing Castilian ­chronicles—only roughly to before 1266 or perhaps before 1263, based on his assessment of the diplomatic relations between Baldwin ii and Alfonso x in this period.43 Préaud pointed out the implications of Wolff’s improved chronology for the date of Baldwin’s horoscope, but also introduced another ­terminus post quem unrelated to Philip’s stay at Alfonso’s court: he argues that our a­ uthor’s mention of Yonites, Noah’s son not mentioned in the Bible, in the ­versified introduction, and his qualification of the biblical ruler Nimrod as a giant, may indicate that he had consulted the encyclopedic Le livres dou Tresor by Brunetto Latini, which has been dated to around 1260–66. At the same time, however, Préaud admits that the 12th-century author Petrus Comestor in his Historia Scholastica (circa 1170–79) also mentions Yonites and qualifies Nimrod as a ­gigas.44 In this context it seems evident that our author’s references to Yonites and Nimrod do not result from any familiarity with Latini, but rather from a familiarity with Comestor’s earlier work. The Historia was an instant success in academic milieus and remained popular until the later Middle Ages.45 As a terminus ante quem, Paris used the date of Baldwin ii’s death (October 1273), which is not mentioned in the horoscope. Moreover, he argued that composing a horoscope for a deceased emperor would not have made much sense.46 This sounds acceptable, but—in view of our terminus post quem of 10 June 1259—it seems possible to advance a new terminus ante quem. Indeed, there is a momentous event to which our author does not appear to allude in any way: the fall of Latin Constantinople into Nicaean hands in July 1261. 42 43 44 45 46

On the date of 31 August 1259, see Chapter 4, p. 86–87. Wolff, “Mortgage and redemption of an Emperor’s Son,” 54–55. Préaud, “L’horoscope de Baudoin de Courtenay,” 10 and 13 (n. 19). For a recent edition of Latini’s work, see Brunetto Latini, Li Livres dou Trésor, ed. Spurgeon Baldwin and Paul ­Barrette (Tempe, 2003). Petrus Comestor, Scolastica Historia: Liber Genesis, ed. Agneta Sylwan, Corpus Christianorum Continuatio Mediaevalis 191 (Turnhout, 2004). Paris assumed on the basis of the historiography of his time that Baldwin died in 1271 (Paris, “Astrologue anonyme,” 426). Since then it has been convincingly argued that the emperor died two years later in October 1273 (Wolff, “Mortage and Redemption of an Emperor’s Son,” 73).

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Surely, if the Queen of Cities had already been conquered at the time of composition, our author would not have been able to leave it unmentioned if he wished his talents as an astrologer to be appreciated. Préaud, however, is of the opinion that our author does refer to Constantinople’s fall in the following passage: “Nequident touz tems se gatient et se pein[a few illegible letters] els garder li peres et li filz quar li signe meridian ne tienent pas la verite que il prometent, quar il doit avenir que ambe.ii. les parties decevront et seront deceu.”47 This reads as an obscure passage which is difficult to link to a particular event. At best our author predicts that the emperor and his son would suffer setbacks (and apart from the 1261 disaster they both confronted a number of major disappointments), but anything more cannot be deduced. On the contrary, the combined reading of a number of references in both the versified introduction and the actual horoscope implies that Constantinople was still under Baldwin’s control when our texts were written. The introductory poem indeed states with regard to Baldwin that “en grant estroiceté de terre/le maintendroit longuement Dex.”48 In connection with his wife Mary of Brienne and their son Philip’s prolonged stay in the West the introduction tells us that the same emperor “remandroit en sa cité / ou il auroit grant povreté.”49 The horoscope predicts that Mary and Philip—thanks to Alfonso x’s aid and support—would eventually return to Baldwin, who meanwhile had apparently resided in his capital and had not been forced to abandon it: “et repairera la dame et li filz a son segnor”, and also: “la dame qui sera lonc tems senz son segnor et après retournera o son fil”. The horoscope then goes on to predict that the emperor three years after their return would be victorious against all his enemies: “Baldwin sera en joie et en exaucement après les trois anz de lor retor et metra souz pié touz ses anemis.”50 47

48 49 50

BnF, fr.1353, f. 102rb (=Appendix 2, §12, tentative translation: “Nevertheless all the time there will be destruction, with the father and the son making great efforts to maintain themselves, because the meridional signs do not hold the truth which they promise, because it must happen that both parties will deceive and will be deceived”). Préaud, “L’horoscope de Baudoin de Courtenay,” 10 and 44 (n. 215). The quoted passage follows a passage that foretells the return of the emperor’s wife and son to him and his subsequent victory over all his enemies during the next three years. The quoted passage is itself followed by a further reference to these victories and the aid of one grant segnor de occident (“great lord from the West”), a reference to Alfonso x. BnF, fr.1353, f. 4ra (=Appendix 1, v351, “Left with only a small amount of land/God will maintain him a long time”). BnF, fr.1353, f. 4ra (=Appendix 1, v377, “will remain in his city / where he will know great poverty”). BnF, fr.1353, f. 102rb (=Appendix 2, §11–12, “and the lady and the son will return to her lord”; “the lady will be a long time without her lord and afterwards will return with her son”; Baldwin “will be in a state of joy and exaltation three years after their return and will trample his enemies underfoot”).

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The versified introduction likewise contains the notion of imperial r­ estauration: “quar ausit cum se il s’esvellast / resordroit il et ses empires / et bien parroit li plus granz sires / qui en son tens fust nez de fame.” Taken together these passages paint the following picture: the emperor will suffer poverty and will see himself confined to Constantinople for a long time, but thanks to divine aid he will stand firm; after his wife and son’s return to the capital he will triumph over his enemies and recover (at least some of) the empire’s territories that had been lost. If my argumentation regarding both the terminus post quem and ante quem is correct, then our texts—at least the introductory poem and the horoscope from which the various chronological elements were taken—appear to have been written around 1260 (after June 1259 and before July 1261).51 The astronomical treatise may have been written around the same time, but it may just as well be that it had been completed earlier. On the basis of Paris’ and Préaud’s date for our texts (circa 1270), a number of authors have theorized that these were drawn up as part of a dossier to recruit aid for the reconquest of Constantinople and other parts of the Latin empire. Emmanuel Poulle writes that: on dispose là du dossier, entièrement en langue vulgaire, qui a, très évidemment, été préparé à l’intention de l’empereur chassé de Constantinople pour lui permettre d’organiser son action politique en ­tenant compte de l’influence que les astres étaient censés exercer sur cette ­action: nous avons là le premier témoignage, et il est remarquablement circonstancié, d’aide scientifique à la décision, alors qu’on ne perçoit que beaucoup plus tard, à compter du XVesiècle, et seulement au travers de rares indices, combien les responsables politiques de la fin du Moyen Âge et de la Renaissance ont été tentés d’avoir recours à ce mode très ­moderne de gouvernement.52 Boudet in a similar vein states that our texts “s’insèrent dans un dossier visant à organiser son (Baldwin’s) action.”53 Apart from the specific political ­context—a plan for the reconquest of Constantinople after the 1261 debacle—

51

52 53

BnF, fr.1353, f. 4ra (=Appendix 1, v354–355, “From the moment he awakes/He will resuscitate his empire”). An additional argument for this alternative date is that if they would have been written around 1270, the focus in our texts on Alfonso x—as the supporter of the Latin empire—would be peculiar in view of the fact that since 1267 Charles of Anjou, king of Sicily, was Baldwin ii’s most valuable ally (see note 38). Emmanuel Poulle, “Compte-rendu: Stephen Dörr, Der älteste Astronomietraktat,” Le ­Moyen Âge 107 (2007) 224. Boudet, “Les horoscopes princiers dans l’Occident médiéval,” 381.

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I think Poulle and Boudet are correct that this dossier was, among other purposes, composed to be used politically. Of course, even before 1261 the empire was in dire need and external f­ inancial and military support was welcome, but I do not think that our texts were composed in an effort to convince potential Western allies to aid Baldwin’s ailing empire. Several elements argue against such an interpretation. For example, the two powers that in the past had repeatedly provided financial, diplomatic, and other support—the papacy and the French king—are implicitly (if not explicitly) criticized. The versified introduction states “mais ançois iroit secors querre / cil sires (Baldwin) loing hors de sa terre / .ii. foiz iroit et revendroit / mes petit secors i prendroit.” From the horoscope itself we learn that Baldwin would travel (as indeed he did) vers France and vers l’Eglise de Rome to obtain aid, but li Toreaus (the zodiacal sign Taurus) would give “a cel segnor pou de aide de sez amis et ses grant viages li est autresit cum neient profitables.” Elsewhere it is said that the loss of unspecified imperial territories would have as a consequence that “li ami ne li aident mie.”54 This critique of earlier efforts and of friends and allies would appear to be a rather poor strategy to recruit further support. Instead, it is perhaps more probable that our texts served an internal political purpose. The empire’s situation in 1260 was difficult: Baldwin ii’s anti-Nicaean Pelagonia coalition had been defeated a year earlier (early summer 1259) and one of his most valuable vassals, prince of Achaia William ii of Villehardouin, had been captured by the Nicaean army together with many local lords. M ­ ichael viii Paleologos subsequently (1260) launched an offensive against Latin ­Constantinople, besieging the city and its suburb Galata and, in the process, conquered most remaining towns that had still been in Baldwin ii’s hand, the most important of which was Salymbria.55 At about this critical time the 54

55

BnF, fr.1353, f. 4rb (=Appendix 1, v371–374, “But first he will search for aid/This lord far from his land/Twice he will go and return/But to little avail”); f. 101rb (=Appendix 2, §2, “to France” and “to the Church of Rome”; Taurus “will give this lord little aid from his friends and his great travels likewise will not be profitable for him”); f. 102ra (=Appendix 2, §9, “his friends do not help him”). On Baldwin ii’s involvement—until now unnoticed by historians—in the Pelagonia coalition (concluded between the Latin emperor, prince William ii of Villehardouin, king Manfred of Sicily, and Michael ii Doukas, ruler of Epiros), see Chapter 4, p. 82–85, and Filip Van Tricht, De Latijnse Renovatio van Byzantium. Het keizerrijk van Konstantinopel (1204–1261), (PhD diss., University of Gent, 2003), 2: 782–787. For the older view: Deno J. Geanakoplos, “Greco-Latin relations on the eve of the Byzantine restoration: the battle of Pelagonia-1259,” Dumbarton Oaks Papers 7 (1953) 127–134). See also for the years 1259–1260, idem, Emperor Michael Palaeologus and the West 1258–1282 (Cambridge, Mass., 1959), ­75–79. Peter Wirth, “Von der Schlacht von Pelagonia bis Wiedereroberung ­Konstantinopels. Zur äusseren Geschichte der Jahre 1259–1261,” Byzantinische Zeitschrift

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­ essage informing Baldwin of his son Philip’s redemption by Alfonso x must m have arrived in the capital, together with the news—also (and uniquely) referred to in the horoscope—that the marriage negotiations that his wife, Empress Mary of Brienne, had been conducting with the Castilian king for their son proved to be successful (“entrementres que la dame sera hors sera traitié del mariage del fil”). A new and profitable alliance was in the making.56 These tidings must have been received as a confidence inspiring message at a moment of dire need. Boudet, with respect to the French dauphin and later king Charles v, has pointed out that it was in a time of crisis—the years 1456–58— that “les pratiques divinatoires—astrologiques et géomantiques—se sont affirmées, dans son esprit, comme des instruments essentiels de conquête et d’exercice de pouvoir.”57 The case may have been the same for Baldwin ii. For a ruler with an apparently keen interest in astrology, and other occult disciplines, it must have been irresistible to consult with his experts to evaluate the future of his empire in the context of this new bond with the Castilian kingdom. The inevitably optimistic picture our source paints of this future (that Baldwin “sera en joie et en exaucement après les trois anz de lor retor et metra souz pié touz ses anemis”) was politically useful: it could obviously serve to restore morale after earlier setbacks, especially the recent Pelagonia debacle. This boost in morale through a favorable astrological judgement, accompanied by a theoretical treatise substantiating astrology’s claims as a credible science, seems to have not been aimed at a wider audience, but rather at an inner circle of the emperor’s most trusted advisers, barons, vassals, and collaborators. Indeed, apart from the political dimension, our author in the introduction of the astronomical treatise (which may have been written somewhat earlier than the other texts) tells his readers (and listeners) that he has written it in defence of “la science de astronomie which is por ville et por neient tenue de aucunes genz qui ont l’entendement si gros et si pesant des terrianes choses.” In this context he fears that his work may attract “assez detraeors et envious en ceste oeuvre.” Therefore, he implores “que ceste oeuvre ne soit balliee commune ne abondonee a touz, mes a cels solement qui ont bon entendement et soutil engin.” He has written the treatise “mie por les rudes ne por cels qui ont

56 57

55 (1962) 30–37. Beverly Berg, “Manfred of Sicily and the Greek East,” Byzantina 14 (1988) 276–279. Spyros Asonites, “Pelagonia 1259: Mia nea Theorisi,” Byzantiaka 11 (1991) 129–165. Juho Wilskman, “The Campaign and Battle of Pelagonia 1259,” Byzantinos Domos 17/18 (2009–2010) 131–174. BnF, fr.1353, f. 102rb (=Appendix 2, §11, “while the lady will be away the marriage of the son will negotiated”). Boudet, “Les horoscopes princiers dans l’Occident médiéval,” 383.

Manuscript Tradition, Authorship, Date & Aim

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l’entendement gros, mes por cels qui ja soit ce qu’il ne soient fondé de parfonde clergie, il ont neporquant l’entendement soutil.”58 Likewise, in view of the fact that astrology was without doubt a controversial discipline, the versified introduction and the actual horoscope were probably aimed at a restricted audience, and not at the Constantinopolitan or imperial elite at large, part of which was (or in the past had been) critical of Baldwin’s politics. It would have been unwise and unproductive to provide them with ammunition that could be used to fuel their critique. Apart from this, the fact that the treatise, as the cited passages show, has an obvious educational and apologetic intention, as Paris recognized, may be interpreted as indicating that it had been originally written as a separate work with its own purpose and was only later combined with the introductory poem, the horoscope, and the astrological translations to form one dossier promising a better future for the empire.59

58

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BnF, fr.1353, f. 7ra (=Appendix 3, Ch. 1, §1, “the science of astronomy” which is “held to be worthless and inexistant by some people whose understanding of earthly matters is mediocre and slow-witted”; “enough detractors and people envious of this work”; “that this work may not be presented in public nor given over to all, but only to those who possess a good understanding and a refined intelligence”; “not for the ignorant or those who possess a mediocre understanding, but for those who, although they may not be versed in profound science, they nevertheless possess a refined understanding”). A similar passage occurs near the end of the treatise: BnF, fr.1353, f. 62vb (=Appendix 3, Ch. 189, §1). Paris, “Astrologue anonyme,” 428–429.

Part 1 Political Dynamics

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Chapter 2

A Byzantine-Style Imperial Ideology Our texts offer valuable insights on aspects of political life in mid-13th-century Constantinople, such as imperial ideology, elements of the mindset at the ­imperial court, factional strife among the metropolitan elite, and foreign policy. Of course, given the astrological nature of our sources these aspects are not elaborated upon. Our texts rather provide—mostly vague—clues that require reading between the lines and which only reveal their significance within the context of information provided by other available sources and existing historiography. In the past most authors have held the view that the Latin emperors ­adopted a number of external elements (for example, their official titles in charters and on seals, the use of Byzantine imperial costume, imitation of various imperial ceremonies, etc.) from their predecessors, but without grasping the ideology behind them: form without content.1 In the Latin empire’s opening decades (1204–1228) I have already suggested an alternative view based on a close reading of the variations and evolution in the imperial style and on an analysis of material in well-known sources that hitherto had been overlooked. I have indeed tried to show that Baldwin i and his successors did not only adopt formal elements, but understood and identified with the key elements of Byzantine imperial ideology: the empire’s Roman character and the emperor’s status as Christ’s direct representative on earth, from which the related ideas of universalism and autocracy were derived, as well as the emperor’s p ­ osition as ­defender of the Christian faith and Church. This view has been criticized by Michael Angold, who however does not ­engage my argumentation on this point.2 Recently, Stefan Burkhardt in his 1 See, in particular, Benjamin Hendrickx, “Les institutions de l’empire latin de Constantinople (1204–1261): Le pouvoir impérial (l’empereur, l’impératrice, les régents),” Byzantina 6 (1974) 135; Antonio Carile, “La cancellaria sovrana dell’Impero latino di Constantinopoli (1204–1261),” Studi Veneziani 2 (1978) 52; Peter Lock, “The Latin emperors as heirs to Byzantium,” in Paul Magdalino, ed., New Constantines. The Rythm of imperial renewal in Byzantium, 4th–13th centuries. Papers from the twenty-sixth spring symposium of Byzantine studies (St. Andrews, march 1992) (Cambridge, 1994), 295–304. 2 Van Tricht, The Latin Renovatio of Byzantium, 61–82. More recently: Filip Van Tricht, “Claiming the Basileia ton Rhomaion: A Latin imperial dynasty in Byzantium,” Medieval History Journal 20 (2017) 248–287; Michael Angold, Review of Van Tricht, The Latin Renovatio of Byzantium, Speculum 88 (2013) 865–867. On Byzantine imperial ideology (with further references): Otto Treitinger, Die Oströmische Kaiser- und Reichsidee (Darmstadt, 1956), 34, 43–45;

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, ���9 | doi:10.1163/9789004383180_004

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article on rituals of power repeats once more that “there was nothing much Byzantine left by the Latin empire,” but he confines himself to a brief analysis of a limited number of well-known sources (for example, Villehardouin, Valenciennes, and a number of papal and Venetian documents) and misses much of the available and relevant material.3 A voice that concurs with my views is Teresa Shawcross, who states: “Not only the image, therefore, but also the practice of rulership which the crusaders associated with themselves, reveal a strong continuity between the previous imperial regime and their own.”4 The texts under discussion would appear now to support the view held by both Shawcross and myself that the Latin emperors, or at least Baldwin ii and his entourage, did take over the main tenets of Byzantine imperial ideology. A number of elements indicate that, like his Byzantine predecessors, Baldwin ii—assuming our texts reflect not only the opinion of our author but those of the emperor he served—saw his emperorship as universal and Roman in character. The idea of universalism is evident in the statement that our author considers the subject of the horoscope—Emperor Baldwin ii—to be the “plus haut segnor qui vive” and “li plus granz sires qui en son tens fust nez de fame.”5 The reigning emperor of Constantinople was thus unequivocally, in absolute terms and conforming to Byzantine tradition, awarded the highest authority. This implies that the authority of other rulers—both secular and ecclesiastical—was deemed inferior, with no reservations being made to the papacy or Baldwin’s imperial colleague in the West. This did not entail that all other rulers were considered to be directly subject to Baldwin’s authority, but

Louis Bréhier, Les institutions de l’empire byzantin (Paris, 1949; repr. 1970), 49–54, 345–353; ­Steven Runciman, The Byzantine Theocracy (Cambridge, 1977), 22–25; Dimiter Angelov, Imperial ideology and political thought in Byzantium 1204–1330 (Cambridge, 2007), 79–117. Specifically on Byzantine universalism, somewhat nuancing earlier views: Anthony Kaldellis, “Did the Byzantine Empire have ‘Ecumenical’ or ‘Universal’ Aspirations?” in Clifford Ando and Seth Richardson, eds., Ancient States and Infrastructural Power: Europe, Asia, and America (Philadelphia, 2017), 272–300. 3 Stefan Burkhardt, “Court Ceremonies and Rituals of Power in the Latin Empire of Constantinople,” in Alexander Beihammer, Stavroula Constantinou, and Maria Parani, eds., Ceremonies and Rituals of Power in Byzantium and the Medieval Mediterranean: Comparative Perspectives, The Medieval Mediterranean 98 (Leiden, 2013), 290. In his recent monograph Burkhardt ­expresses the same view: idem, Mediterranes Kaisertums und imperiale Ordnungen, 375. 4 Teresa Shawcross, “Conquest Legitimized: The Making of a Byzantine Emperor in Crusader Constantinople 1204–1261,” in Jonathan Harris, Catherine Holmes, and Eugenia Russel, eds., Byzantines, Latins, and Turks in the Eastern Mediterranean World After 1150, Oxford Studies in Byzantium (Oxford, 2012), 214. 5 BnF, fr.1353, f. 4ra (=Appendix 1, v338, “the most exalted lord now living”) and f. 4rb (=Appendix 1, v356, “the greatest lord of his time born to a woman”).

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rather that they—following the Byzantine hierarchy of states and/or family of princes-theories—necessarily held a lower hierarchical rank.6 Apart from the universalist aspect, the attribution of a Roman character to his empire is evident from Baldwin ii’s use of the imperial style. Our author possibly used the term Romains (instead of Romanie) with respect to Baldwin’s imperial title, but from a number of charters it is clear that the emperor—also his son Philip and imperial bajuli or regents such as Philip of Toucy—and his chancery after the Byzantine example continued to use the terms Romains or Romanorum or Ῥωμαίων in the imperial style in charters and on seals, or the term imperium Romanum in reference to his empire, as his (Latin) predecessors had done. This was done in spite of the general non-recognition in the West of the Roman character of the Byzantine empire in the context of the pre-1204 papal translatio imperii theory and the related Zweikaiserproblem. The papacy after 1204 adopted a divisio-imperii theory, but this did not lead to the popes addressing the Latin emperors as Roman emperors. Nevertheless, the fact that they, like their Byzantine predecessors, could see themselves as the direct successors—ruling from the very same capital (Nea Roma or New Rome) and sitting on the same throne—of the famed Constantine the Great, who in Western eyes without doubt was identified as a Roman emperor, must have induced them to embrace and continue the Roman identity for their emperorship and empire.7 6 Our author uses the term segnor for both secular and ecclesiastical lords, as is evident from the following phrase in the astrological treatise: “La Lune quant ele est en .i. signe o Saturne ou si ele est el quart ou el .x.me ou el .vii.me de leu ou Saturnes est, ele devee et contredit a parler a hauz homes et a grant segneurs, si cum a primaz, a albez, a moines, a viscontes” (BnF, fr.1353, f. 56rb). On the mentioned theories: André Grabar, “God and the Family of Princes presided over by the Byzantine emperor,” Harvard Slavic Studies 2 (1954) 117–123; Van Tricht, The Latin Renovatio of Byzantium, 393–394; Shawcross, “Conquest Legitimized,” 196. 7 Burkhardt does not take into account this key element in his discussion and conclusions regarding the Latin emperors’ imperial ideology (Burkhardt, Mediterranes Kaisertum und imperialen Ordnungen, 195–199). Some examples of the use of “Roman” terminology: Baldwin ii: Maurice Van Haeck, ed., Cartulaire de l’abbaye de Marquette (Lille, 1937), 1:n° 77, p. 62; Dieudonné Brouwers, ed., L’administration et les finances du comté de Namur du xii au XVe siècles. Sources. ii: Chartes et règlements, Documents inédits relatifs à l’histoire de la province de Namur (Namur, 1914), 1:n° 97, p. 59; n° 101, p. 63; n° 125, p. 76; Frédéric A. de Reiffenberg, ed., Cartulaire de Notre-Dame de Namur (1200–1328), Monuments pour servir à l’Histoire des provinces de Namur, de Hainaut et de Luxembourg 1 (Bruxelles, 1844), 9; Jules Borgnet, ed., Cartulaire de la commune de Namur (Namur, 1871), 1:n° 13, p. 33; Emile Brouette, ed., Recueil des chartes et documents de l’abbaye du Val-Saint-Georges à Salzinnes (1196/97–1300), Cîteaux–Commentarii Cistercienses. Studia et Documenta 1 (Achel, 1971), n° 77, p. 95. Philip of Courtenay: Gustave Schlumberger, Ferdinand Chalandon, and Adrien Blanchet, eds., ­Sigillographie de l’Orient latin, Bibliothèque Archéologique et Historique 37 (Paris, 1943),

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The fact that, also like his predecessors, in some documents addressed to Western rulers (such as the papacy, King Louis ix of France, or the French queen-mother Blanche of Castile) or to be used in a Western context, the term Romanorum/Romanum was replaced with Romanie—presumably in order not to cause confusion or perhaps not to offend needed allies with ideological concepts alien to them—shows that the use of terms like Romanorum was not simply a case of formalism. On the contrary, the discriminate use of these terms indicates that their ideological implications were well understood. B ­ esides, the term Romania quite simply meant “land of the Romans” and had been employed in Byzantine imperial correspondence as well to refer to the empire, though not in the imperial style.8 Baldwin ii’s seals—more so than those of his predecessors—reflected other elements of Byzantine imperial representation. He styled himself Πορφιρογέννητος [sic], stressing that he had been born in the imperial Porphyra palace as the son of a reigning imperial couple, his father Peter of Courtenay and his mother Yolande of Flanders/Hainaut. His son Philip would do likewise. In the Byzantine imperial tradition this title was an element legitimizing the emperor’s rule and that of his lineage. To the latter Baldwin referred as Φλάνρας (Flanders), no doubt in an effort to capitalize upon the relative popularity of his predecessor and uncle Henry of Flanders/Hainaut, brother of his mother Empress Yolande. More particularly the porphyrogennetos title was a legitimizing element which his rivals in Nicaea or Thessaloniki could obviously not claim convincingly, since the n° 30–31, pp. 174–175. Philip of Toucy (regent in 1246): Eugène Tisserant, “La légation en Orient du Franciscain Dominique d’Aragon,” Revue de l’Orient Chrétien 24 (1924), 340. On the Latin emperors’ identification with Constantine the Great: Robert de Clari, La conquête de Constantinople, ed. Philippe Lauer, Les classiques de l’histoire de France au moyen âge (Paris, 1924), §96–97; Van Tricht, The Latin Renovatio of Byzantium, 90–91. 8 Some examples: Alexandre Teulet, ed., Layettes du Trésor des Chartes (Paris, 1866), 2:n° 2954, n° 3123; Jean A.C. Buchon, Recherches et matériaux pour servir à une historie de la domination française aux XIIIe, XIVe et XVe siècles dans les provinces démembrées de l’Empire grec à la suite de la Quatrième Croisade (Paris, 1840), 1:153; Eloy Benito Ruano, “Balduino ii de Constantinopla y la orden de Santiago Un proyecto de defensa del imperio latino del Oriente,” Hispania 12 (1952) n° 3–4, pp. 30–35; Riant, Exuviae Sacrae Constantinopolitanae, 2:n° 79. See a detailed discussion of Baldwin’s imperial title in the second part of my doctoral thesis: Van Tricht, De Latijnse Renovatio van Byzantium, 2: 617–624. Michael viii Paleologos as emperor of Nicaea was likewise prepared to compromise with regard to the formulation of his imperial title in a Western context: in the Latin version of the Treaty of Nymphaion (1261) concluded with Genoa, and also on the embroidered silk that was donated to the Superba on this occasion, Michael is referred to as imperator Grecorum (Cecily J. Hilsdale, “The Imperial Image at the End of Exile: The Byzantine Embroidered Silk in Genoa and the Treaty of Nymphaion (1261),” Dumbarton Oaks Papers 64 (2012) 194–197). On the Byzantine use of the term Romania before 1204: Robert L. Wolff, “Romania: the Latin Empire of Constantinople,” Speculum 23 (1948) 1–32.

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imperial capital where the Porphyra palace was situated was outside their control, though this did not prevent the Nicean emperor Theodore ii ­Laskaris ­(1254–1258) from doing so on some of his coins. As other authors such as ­Schramm and P ­ revenier have remarked, Baldwin abandoned the mainly Western style iconography of his predecessors’ seals for a more decidedly B ­ yzantine one. Although the pre-1204 tradition of portraying a standing monarch on the obverse with the reverse bearing an image of Christ was not adopted, the enthroned emperor in Byzantine imperial robes on the obverse and the emperor on horseback—in the same robes—on the reverse are close to Byzantine imperial iconographic representations found on materials other than seals.9 Another element pointing to a conscious identification with and adoption of the Roman character of the Byzantine empire can be read in a short passage in the astrological treatise. In this passage our author illustrates the astrological concept of collection by discussing a specific astronomical constellation and an adjoining question on whether, according to his birth chart, a child would reign or not (“si cum se aucuns fait question en la nativité de aucun enfant se il regnera”). The question is answered affirmatively in the sense that the astronomical constellation discussed “demostroit que a ce que il regnast, il covenoit que la segnorie del reiaume il eust par mains de Christus et de senatours et de hauz homes.”10 This fragment is interesting in several ways. First, in the context of the entire treatise it stands out. Although questions on the future of children or on the reign of rulers are common in astrological literature, in our text it is the only example of a prediction concerning a child and also the only one concerning the reign of a ruler. All other questions in the treatise deal with themes such as 9 Schlumberger, Sigillographie de l’Orient latin, n° 11–16, pp. 170–172. Percy E. Schramm, “Das lateinische Kaisertum in Konstantinopel (1204–1261) im Lichte der Staatssymbolik,” in idem, Herrschaftszeichen und Staatssymbolik, Schriften der Monumenta Germaniae Historica 13/3 (Stuttgart, 1956), 847–848. Walter Prevenier, “La chancellerie de l’empire latin de Constantinople (1204–1261),” in Victoria D. Van Aalst and Krijnie.N. Ciggaar, eds., The Latin Empire. Some contributions (Hernen, 1990), 70. Van Tricht, The Latin Renovatio of Byzantium, 93. André Grabar, L’empereur dans l’art byzantin. Recherches sur l’art officiel de l’empire d’Orient, Publications de la Faculté des Lettres de l’Université de Strasbourg 75 (Paris, 1936), pls VII/1, IX/1. On Theodore ii Laskaris assuming the porphyrogennetos title: Dimiter Angelov, “Theodore ii Laskaris, Elena Asenina and Bulgaria,” in Angel Nikolov and Georgi Nikolov, eds., The Medieval Bulgarian and “the Others” [in Bulgarian] (Sofia, 2013), 275. 10 BnF, fr.1353, f. 45va (=Appendix 3, Ch. 131, §1, “as when someone with regard to a child’s nativity interrogates whether he will reign”; “demonstrated that he would reign and that it would happen that he obtained dominion of the realm by the hand of Christ and senators and important men”).

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marriage, travel, or medical conditions. In addition, it is also the only detailed birth chart mentioned in the treatise. These elements may be taken as an indication that this particular question has some sort of special status within our corpus. Furthermore, it is the only passage to somewhat surprisingly cite a socio-political group called the senatours. The astrological questions in the rest of the treatise show a rather typical Western concept of social stratification, with kings (rois), princes (princes), counts (contes), viscounts (viscontes), and barons (barons) among others, probably simply adopted from Western astrological texts—mostly translations or adaptations of earlier Arabic authors— which our author used as his sources.11 Secondly, when we relate this within the context of the entire treatise peculiar passage to Baldwin’s personal situation it becomes evident that this type of question must have been of particular interest to him. Indeed, the current heir to the throne—Baldwin’s eldest son Philip—had lived for a long time in an undesirable situation (his forced stay in Venice) and whether by the time of his succession there would still be an empire left to rule was uncertain in the geopolitical context of the late 1250s. His succession to his father’s throne and the continuation of Courtenay rule in Constantinople must have seemed precarious.12 I suggest that the prediction in the treatise—based on a specific birth chart (which by the way cannot be identified with Baldwin’s natal chart)—may well have been intended to refer to Philip of Courtenay. He, as we 11 12

On the sources used by our authors: see below. As a child Baldwin’s own situation had also been precarious, in particular after the childless death of his brother and emperor Robert of Courtenay in early 1227. Although Baldwin, then ten years old, was the apparent heir to the throne, the Constantinopolitan ­barons in the context of his minority brought in John of Brienne, former king of Jerusalem (1211–1225), not just as temporary imperial regent but as lifelong crowned emperor in his own right. In a pact drawn up in April 1229 between the barons and John, and ratified by Pope Gregory ix, who had helped mediating the agreement, Baldwin’s hereditary rights to the throne were recognized, but it is not difficult to see that the young heir must inevidently have felt uncomfortable about the arrangement, in particular because Emperor John had several sons with his third wife Berengaria of Leon-Castile. Although these sons—Alphonse, Louis and John—were several years younger than him and were provided for with (theoretically) sizeable inheritances in the pact, to Baldwin they nevertheless must have seemed potential rivals: as always, it was to be expected that in the end political realities would decide whether pacts were kept or broken. For the 1229 pact, see Gottlieb L.F. Tafel and Georg M. Thomas, eds., Urkunden zur älteren Handels- und Staatsgeschichte der Republik Venedig mit besonderer Beziehung auf Byzanz und die Levante, Fontes Rerum Austriacarum, Diplomataria et Acta 12/14 (Vienna, 1856–1857), 2:n° 277; Richard Spence, “Gregory ix’s attempted expeditions to the Latin empire of Constantinople: the crusade for the union of the Latin and Greek churches,” Journal of Medieval History 5 (1979) 163–176. Chrissis, Crusading in Frankish Greece, 89–91.

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shall see, occupies a rather prominent role in Baldwin’s horoscope. This prediction then must have been meant as a reassuring message to those at court who were prepared to hear it. The key argument supporting this hypothesis is that, in the astrological question under consideration, the child’s ascendant is Libra (“la livre est ascendenz en sa nativité”), while in Baldwin’s horoscope his son is said to have been born under the sign of Libra (“son fil qui est nez en la Livre”). Libra (circa September 23—October 22) was thus Philip of Courtenay’s ascendant sign (his father’s ascendant sign being Virgo). This fits in well with indications that Philip was born in the latter half of 1242.13 Thirdly, apart from the personal element, the Byzantine—or Roman—­ aspect in the fragment under discussion is evident. The mention of senatours in the context of the accession of a ruler is indeed remarkable. It should be clear that the idea of senators playing a role in the accession of a sovereign only makes sense in a single context: a Byzantine (or Roman) one. In Byzantium a remodeled version of the ancient Roman institution continued to exist until the very end of the empire in the 15th century. For example, shortly before the second fall of Constantinople to the crusaders in April 1204 the senate had been instrumental in appointing Nicholas Kannabos as a rival emperor in an effort to depose the unpopular Alexios iv Angelos (1203–1204), who had been brought to power by the crusader army. Although sources on the senate’s functioning are scarce, it, among others, possessed judicial power and also had a—mostly symbolic—role in the proclamation of a new emperor. The senatorial class was still very much in existence at the beginning of the thirteenth century. Senators— mostly a conglomerate of high-ranking civil officials, the highest clergy, and members of what may be called the Byzantine metropolitan aristocracy— enjoyed for example the privilege of being judged by the imperial court.14 13

14

BnF, fr.1353, f. 45va (=Appendix 3, Ch. 131, §1) and f. 102rb (=Appendix 2, §12). With regard to the date of Philip of Courtenay’s birth we know from an imperial letter from February 1242 that at this time Emperor Baldwin still had no heir (Buchon, Recherches et matériaux pour servir à une historie de la domination française, 144–145). We also know that Philip was knighted during his stay at Alfonso x of Castile’s court in late 1259 until 1260 (see Chapter 1), a ceremony that normally did not take place before having turned eighteen. It may then be concluded that he must have been born in the latter half of 1242, with the period circa September 23–October 22 as a viable option. Alexander Kazhdan, “Senate & Senator,” in idem, ed., The Oxford Dictionary of Byzantium (New York, 1991), 3:1868–1870. Phillips, The Fourth Crusade, 222–223. Bréhier, Les institutions de l’empire byzantin, 185–190. Ruth Macrides, “The Competent Court,” in Angeliki .E. Laiou and Dieter Simon, eds., Law and Society in Byzantium. Ninth-Twelfth Centuries, Dumbarton oaks Research Library and Collection (Washington, 1994), 122. On the 1204 episode, see Anthony Kaldellis, The Byzantine Republic. People and Power in New Rome (Cambridge, Mass., 2015), 123–124 and 130. For a succinct evaluation of Kaldellis’ central thesis, see note 43.

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In the 13th-century West the expression senator was used in Rome as a title for the head of the civil administration in the city of Rome: summus senator or simply senator. In this context, among others, are the well-known examples of Richard of Cornwall (1261) and Charles of Anjou (126–66, 1268–78, 1281–84), who as foreign princes acquired this title. The title of senator was also used in a number of self-governing cities, for example Cologne, to designate the members of the municipal council belonging to the urban—largely non-­noble— elite.15 Clearly these options can not apply here, since in neither case did these senators have any authority with regard to the accession of a new sovereign. Furthermore, in medieval Arabic, Byzantine, or Western astrological texts I have consulted—whether or not our author had access to them—I have not found any reference to a similar prediction mentioning the involvement of senators in the accession of a new sovereign. Since the fragment probably has personal overtones, it is likely an original contribution by our author within the framework of a largely compilatory work. The passage thus may reflect the terms in which the accession of a new sovereign—a new emperor—in Constantinople around 1260 was framed. For our author, senators were clearly indispensable to the process, otherwise he could have contented himself with something like “de barons et de hauz homes,” as he does elsewhere when mentioning the upper social groups. If so, the question arises who were meant literally with the term senatours. As, to my knowledge, this is the only text referring to senators in the Latin ­empire of C ­ onstantinople, we have nothing to go on but the fragment itself. The phrase “de Christus et de senatours et de hauz homes” is ambivalent in that it is unclear whether the senators are to be distinguished from the hauz homes, whether the senators are to be considered as a subgroup within the hauz homes, or whether both are interchangeable terms. In Byzantium the term senators was sometimes used solely in reference to a group of high-ranking civil officials (as opposed to the military aristocracy), 15

In mid-12th-century Rome, the ancient senate was temporarily revived (with 56 members) in the context of the anti-papal rebellion resulting in the Commune of Rome (starting in 1144). After a compromise had finally been reached with the papacy in 1188 this senate was reduced to a single or maximum two senators, who were yearly elected and headed the city administration. The collective term senatus, nevertheless, remained in use in charters and other documents. By the late 12th century their—claimed or actual— competences did no longer include any matter related to the imperial election. See Carrie E. Benes, “What spqr? Sovereignty and Semiotics in Medieval Rome,” Speculum 84 (2009) 876–883; Burkhardt, Mediterranes Kaisertum und imperialen Ordnungen, 62; Manfred Groten, “Die mittelalterlichen Stadt als Erbin der antiken Civitas,” in Michael Bernsen, Matthias Becher, and Elke Brüggen, eds., Gründungsmythen Europas in Mittelalter (Göttingen, 2013), 27.

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but it could also be used to refer to a group that included the highest Byzantine aristocracy. Since we may ascribe a hierarchical order to the phrase (starting with the highest power—Christ—and descending from there), I am inclined to accept the latter option. We may then hypothesize that in Latin Constantinople the highest civil officials, court dignitaries, noblemen, and perhaps also the highest ecclesiastical functionaries were to be included. Presumably persons of both Latin and Byzantine descent belonged to the senatorial class, since persons from both groups held important positions in the imperial ­entourage and administration, as, for example, members of the Toucy and Cayeux families on the Latin side and the phylax John on the Byzantine side. Besides, intermarriage among Latin and Byzantine aristocratic families was not uncommon.16 That the senatorial body appears to be attested in Latin-Byzantine Constantinople and that Latin nobles possibly saw themselves as senators in the ­Byzantine-Roman tradition (as our author seems to have looked on them) is ­remarkable, but not surprising. Byzantine institutions were continued and from the first years after 1204 a number of Latin nobles are attested with Byzantine court titles: for example, protovestiarios (1205) and later sebastokrator (1219) Cono i of Béthune, kaisar Narjot i of Toucy (around 1217–1238) and his son kaisar Philip of Toucy (around 1250–1261), epi tou kanikleiou Robert of Buccaleone (1277)), although for others only Western style court titles are attested.17 In this context the French version of the Chronicle of Morea characterizes Anselin of Toucy—a son of Narjot i and a daughter of Theodore Branas, feudal lord of Adrianople and Didymoteichon—who had become a prominent 16 17

On the mixed Latin-Byzantine composition of the imperial court and imperial elite under the first Latin emperors: Van Tricht, The Latin Renovatio of Byzantium, 251–306. Specifically under Emperor Baldwin ii: idem, De Latijnse Renovatio van Byzantium, 2: 703–722. On the continuation of Byzantine institutions under Latin rule, the Cistercian author Gunther of Pairis, on the basis of an eyewitness-account by his abbot Martin, had the following to say: “Leges et iura et cetere instituciones, que ab antiquo tam in urbe quam in provincia laudabiles habebantur, ita, ut prius fuerant, consistere permisse sunt, que vero reprobabiles videbantur, vel correcte in melius vel penitus inmutate” (Gunther of Paris, Hystoria Constantinopolitana, ed. Peter Orth, Spolia Berolinensia. Berliner Beiträge zur Mediävistik 5 (Hildesheim, 1994), 163–164). See also Van Tricht, The Latin Renovatio of Byzantium, 103–144. Burkhardt’s succinct discussion of the Latin imperial court hierarchy based on only a selection of the available evidence lead him to erroneous conclusions, for example, regarding the Venetian podestà’s despotes title for which there is no evidence that it could automatically be assumed by new podesta’s, or regarding his views on the absence of eunuchs at the Constantinopolitan court (who at the Nicaean court appear to have been absent as well, see Michael Angold, A Byzantine Government in Exile. The Empire of Nicaea (Oxford, 1975)); part of the problem is the author’s reliance on older secondary literature (Burkhardt, Mediterranes Kaisertum und imperialen Ordnungen, 200–205).

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baron in the principality of Achaia, where he resettled after Constantinople had been lost in 1261, as knowing la langue et les manieres des Grex because he was born in Romania. This suggests a profound familiarity with Byzantine— i.e., imperial—traditions among members of the leading class who were of Latin descent and were born in or around Constantinople. Among these was of course also Emperor Baldwin ii himself. The existence of this social group ties in well with the mention of a senatorial group in our fragment.18 How the term “Roman” itself was used and interpreted by the new Latin metropolitan elite will be analyzed in the discussion of historiographical literature originating in Latin Constantinople (see Chapter 6). Apart from the “Roman” element, the fragment in question in the phrase “la segnorie del reiaume il eust par mains de Christus” contains also another concept central to Byzantine imperial ideology. The idea that the sovereign was crowned by God or Christ Himself was typically Byzantine and an aspect of the close association between Christ and emperor in Byzantine imperial ideology.19 The “crowned by God” topos was used by the Byzantine emperors in the imperial style (θεόστεπτος) in charters and was also a common theme in imperial iconography (coins, book illumination, mosaics, monumental painting, etc.), with which the Latin conquerors must have acquainted themselves in the metropolitan palaces and churches.20 The first Latin emperor Baldwin i of Flanders/Hainaut and all his successors, after the Byzantine model, adopted the Latin a Deo coronatus formula in their own title.21 That this was more than simple formalism is borne out by the fragment in question: the fact that the 18

19 20 21

Jean Longnon, ed., Livre de la Conquête de la Princée de l’Amorée. Chronique de Morée (1204–1305) (Paris, 1911), §357 (“the language and the customs of the Greeks”). On Toucy: idem, “Les Toucy en Orient et en Italie au XIIIe siècle,” Bulletin de la Société des Sciences historiques et naturelles de l’Yonne 96 (1953–1956), 33–43. On Branas: Filip Van Tricht, “The Byzantino-Latin Principality of Adrianople and the Challenge of Feudalism (1204/6– 1227/28): Empire, Venice and Local Autonomy,” Dumbarton Oaks Papers 68 (2015), 325–342. See references in note 2. Also Ioli Kalavrezou, “Helping Hands for the Empire: Imperial ceremonies and the Cult of Relics at the Byzantine Court,” in Henry Maguire, ed., Byzantine Court Culture from 829 to 1204 (Washington, D.C., 1997), 78–79. Franz Dölger, Byzantinische Diplomatik. 20 Aufsätze zum Urkundenwesen der Byzantiner (Ettal, 1956), 142–143. Van Tricht, The Latin Renovatio of Byzantium, 62–71. It would, however, seem that the iconographical Christ-emperor association was possibly too direct for the Latin emperors to adopt: no coins or seals are known containing an image of the Latin emperor being crowned by Christ (or with Christ on the obverse and the emperor on the reverse). See, for example, Alan M. Stahl, “Coinage and Money in the Latin Empire,” Dumbarton Oaks Papers 55 (2001) 197–206; Julian Baker, “Money and Currency in Medieval Greece,” in Nickiphoros I. Tsougarakis and Peter Lock, eds., A Companion to Latin Greece, Companion’s to European History 6 (Leiden, 2014), 217–254.

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typically Byzantine concept of the ruler being crowned by Christ appears in an astrological treatise indicates that the idea must have formed an integral and essential part of the Latin dynasty’s imperial ideology. The “crowned by God” concept was alien to Western political ideology around 1200. Before then only in a few limited contexts, and always with a clear and direct Byzantine connection, do we find traces of it in the West.22 A number of passages in our author’s versified introduction may likewise suggest the adoption of the close association between Christ and emperor from the Byzantine predecessors. Indeed, three elements in Baldwin’s biography, as appearing in the horoscope, show a conspicuous similarity with episodes in the life of Christ, which would not have escaped contemporary readers or listeners. First is the presence of three astrologers considered to be wise men (“.iii. esleu sage del art et bien creu”) around the time of Baldwin’s birth who predict his future.23 This evidently recalls the passage in the gospel of Matthew (Mt 2:1-12) where wise men (μάγοι or magi)—three in number as ecclesiastical tradition has assumed because of the gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh—visit Christ shortly after His birth. In the Christian—both Western and Byzantine—astrological tradition the wise men were identified as astrologers. They were in fact a key biblical argument used by those such as the 12th-century Raymond of Marseilles in his apology of astrology as a science (Liber cursuum planetarum) and by the Byzantine emperor Manuel i Komnenos (1143–1180) in his famous letter in defence of astrology (probably to be dated in the 1170s).24 22

23 24

Charlemagne at the time of his imperial coronation in 800 had introduced the formula in his new imperial title (directly inspired by Byzantine custom), but his son and successor Louis the Pious dropped it from his. Thereafter, the formula lived on in various laudes regiae until the first half of the 12th century (Johanna Dale, “Inauguration and political liturgy in the Hohenstaufen Empire, 1138–1215,” German History 34 (2016) 191–213). Visual counterparts of the formula are known in Ottonian Germany and Norman Sicily. Holy Roman emperor Otto ii (973–983) is depicted as being crowned by Christ together with his wife, the Byzantine princess Theophanu, on the Byzantine-style ivory binding plaque of the Magdeburg Codex (late 10th century). Holy Roman emperor Henry ii (1002–1024), Otto’s relative and the last of the Ottonian dynasty is portrayed in a similar way in the Bamberger Perikopenbuch (early 11th century): Gábor Klaniczay, Holy Rulers and Blessed Princesses. Dynastic Cults in Medieval Central Europe (Cambridge, 2002), 116–117. In a contemporary Byzantine-style mosaic in the San Maria dell’Ammiraglio church in Palermo, king of Sicily Roger ii (1130–1154) is also depicted as being crowned by Christ; the Byzantine imperial iconography was explicitly aimed at the local Byzantine audience: Hubert Houben, Roger ii of Sicily. A Ruler between East and West (Cambridge, 2002), 113–114, 135. BnF, fr.1353, f. 4ra (=Appendix 1, v330–334, “three elected men wise in this art and credible”). Raymond de Marseille, Opera omnia, Tome 1: Traité de l’astrolabe Liber cursuum planetarum, ed. Marie-Thérèse d’Alverny, Charles Burnett, and Emmanuel Poulle (Paris, 2009),

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Secondly, Baldwin and his empire seem to undergo a kind of resurrection in the following verses: a pou d’avoir par son grant sens / en grant ennui et en grant guerre / en grant estroicete de terre / le maintendroit longuement Dex / si qu’il ne seroit hom mortex / qui de lui ne se mervellast / quar ausit cum se il s’esvellast / resordroit il et ses empires.25 It is not too far-fetched to read into this passage an allusion to Christ’s death and resurrection. The sovereign will awake (s’esvallast—implying that he had been asleep, with sleep and death being closely related, as in 1 Thes 4:13-16), and that he (and his empire) will revive (with the verb ressourdre or resordre carrying the possible connotations of resuscitation and rebirth), a miracle in the eyes of every mortal man (the word merveille carrying connotations of the supernatural and the inexplicable) implying Baldwin was unlike other mortal men. And as Christ through His Passion opened an entrance to the heavenly kingdom for mankind, so the emperor through great difficulties will restore the earthly (universal) kingdom. Apart from Christ’s resurrection, a Byzantine eschatological tradition, which itself is of course also thematically related to the evangelical resurrection accounts (but also to for example, the Nero Redivivus legend), may also have served as inspiration for the cited passage. In some versions of this so-called Last Emperor tradition the Last Emperor (or one in a series of Last Emperors) awakes (from sleep, from drunkeness, from a tomb, etc.) before he goes on to restore his empire in anticipation of Christ’s second coming. This is the case in the Vision of Pseudo-Methodius (7th century), the apocalypse of Andreas Salos (7th–10th centuries), the Slavonic Vision of Daniel (9th century), and the Oracles of Leo the Wise (12th– 14th centuries). In some of these texts (Andreas Salos, the Centon of the Poor Emperor in the Oracles of Leo the Wise) the emperor in question is represented as being poor (at the moment of his awakening). The poverty of Baldwin as

25

128–29, 156–59. Demetra George, “Manuel i Komnenos and Michael Glycas: A TwelfthCentury Defence and Refutation of Astrology. Part 1,” Culture and Cosmos 5/1 (2001) 32–33. Marie-Thérèse d’Alverny, “Astrologues et théologiens au XIIe siècle,” in André Duval, ed., Mélanges offerts à Marie-Dominique Chenu (Paris, 1967), 38. Paul Magdalino, L’orthodoxie des astrologues. La science entre le dogme et la divination à Byzance, VIIe–XIVe siècle, ­Réalités byzantines 12 (Paris, 2006), 113. BnF, fr.1353, f. 4ra (=Appendix 1, v349–355, “in His great wisdom with little possessions/ in great difficulty and in great war/left with only a small amount of land/God will maintain him a long time/thus that there will be no mortal man/who does not marvel at him ­because/from the moment he awakes/he will resuscitate his empire”).

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emperor is emphasized in other passages, both in the verse introduction and in the actual horoscope (see Chapter 3). The parallels are clear and it is indeed quite possible that our author was familiar with Byzantine eschatological traditions. In 1208, chronicler and imperial cleric Henry of Valenciennes had already gathered some knowledge concerning these traditions from Byzantine contacts, some of whom seem to have identified Emperor Henry of Flanders/ Hainaut as possibly being the Last Emperor (or one of the Last Emperors). Suggesting an identification of Baldwin ii with the Last Emperor (or one of the Last Emperors), as our author seems to do, must in part have had a legitimizing purpose: the legitimacy of an emperor who was deemed to have a part to play in the eschatological scheme of things could hardly be questioned. In this our author may have been influenced by contemporaneous apocalyptic tendencies in both Western Europe and the Mediterranean that were stimulated by upheavals such as the Mongol invasions, which had caused the Latin empire direct and great harm.26 A third instance of association between Christ and emperor is to be found in how Baldwin’s son is presented as a savior in the following verses: “mes par .i. fil que il [Baldwin and his wife Mary of Brienne] auroient / rescous de povrete seroient.”27 This could be read as a parallel to the role of Christ—the Son within the Holy Trinity—as the Saviour of mankind. This may sound a bit forced, but it is rather the representation of Philip of Courtenay as saving his father 26

27

dmf (Dictionnaire du Moyen Français) 2012. atilf cnrs–Université de Lorraine (http:// www.atilf.fr/dmf), lemmata “éveiller,” “ressourdre,” “merveille.” On the close association between the concepts of sleep and death in medieval and earlier and later times: Christine Pigné, “Hypnos et Thanatos: une association traditionelle renouvelée à la Renaissance,” L’information littéraire 60 (2008) 21–34. On the Last Emperor tradition: Paul J. Alexander, The Byzantine Apocalyptic Tradition (Berkeley, 1985), 151–184; Marie-Hélène Congourdeau, “Les oracula Leonis,” in Cosimo D. Fonseca, ed., Gioachimismo e profetismo in Sicilia (secoli xiii–xvi). Atti del terzo Convegno internazionale di studio Palermo-Monreale 14–16 ottobre 2005 (Viella, 2007), 79–91; idem, “Jérusalem et Constantinople dans la littérature apocalyptique,” in Michel Kaplan, ed., Le sacré et son inscription dans l’espace à Byzance et en Occident, Byzantina Sorbonensia 18 (Paris, 2001), 125–136; Petre Guran, “Historical Prophecies from Late Antique Apocalypticism to Secular Eschatology,” Revue des Études Sud-Est Européennes 52 (2014) 47–62. On Henry of Valenciennes and Emperor Henry: Van Tricht, The Latin Renovatio of Byzantium, 467–469. On the apocalyptic tendencies caused by the Mongol invasions: Peter Jackson, The Mongols and the West, 1221–1410 (Harlow, 2005), 145– 251. On the impact of the Mongol invasions on the Latin empire: see Chapter 3, note 44. BnF, fr.1353, f. 4rb (=Appendix 1, v367–368, “But by a son that they will have/They will be rescued from poverty”). In the actual horoscope Baldwin’s son Philip of Courtenay’s sign Libra is likewise said to have a salvatory effect on Baldwin’s life: “por ce salve ce grant segnor en la Livre” (BnF, fr.1353, f. 101vb (=Appendix 2, §7), “Therefore this great lord will be saved in the sign of Libra”).

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(and mother, as well as the empire) that appears forced. In reality it was the Castilian king Alfonso x who acted as “saviour” of both Baldwin and Philip by ­redeeming the latter, who only later appears to have assumed an active political role. Alfonso’s involvement does not go unmentioned, but in this passage he is reduced to being merely an aid of Philip, as is clear from these lines which follow: “que uns sires moult i aideroit / qui de lor parentez seroit.”28 In spite of any reality, our author thought it important to picture the heir to the throne, Philip, in the role of saviour. The Christ-emperor association as an element in the prevalent imperial ideology provides a context within which our author’s choice becomes understandable. But perhaps the theme of “the son” in combination with other elements should be understood in another way. Possibly a Joachimist influence may be discerned in our author’s work. It is crucial to note that in the person of Benedict of Arezzo—provincial of R ­ omania and one of Saint Francis of Assisi’s companions—Franciscan influence in the entourage of the Latin emperors John of Brienne and Baldwin ii was strong. Benedict was a confidant of both emperors. He was John’s confessor and in that capacity was instrumental in the emperor’s entry into the Franciscan order (through a predictive interpretation of John’s dreams). He also foretold certain events which for Baldwin came to pass. Years later, around 1266–67, the emperor still spoke highly of Benedict to Louis ix’s brother Charles of Anjou. Benedict’s obvious interest in predicting the future seems to situate him in the group of Franciscans interested in the prophetic/eschatological writings of the theologian and mystic Joachim of Fiore (†1202).29 A fundamental concept of Fiore’s teachings was that human history can be divided into three epochs: the age of the Father (the Old Testament), the age of the Son (between the advent of Christ and the time circa 1260), and the (final) age of the Spirit after the time circa 1260, which following the coming of the Antichrist would be the establishment of a new “Order of the Just” (along with peace, concord, and divine universal love). In this final era, according to the mentioned Franciscans and others, the mendicant orders were to play a crucial role. In this the emphasis on the emperor’s poverty in our author’s writings may be interpreted not only as a reference to the Last Emperor tradition (the “poor emperor”), but also to the Franciscan (and Joachimist) ideal of poverty. Emperor John’s entry into the Franciscan order shows that Benedict actively 28 29

BnF, fr.1353, f. 4rb (=Appendix 1, v369–370, “Hereby will greatly help a lord / Who will belong to their parentage”). On Benedict of Arezzo and the Franciscans in Latin-Byzantine Constantinople: Robert L. Wolff, “The Latin Empire of Constantinople and the Franciscans,” Traditio 2 (1944) 216– 220; Girolamo Golubovich, ed., Biblioteca Bio-Bibliografica della Terra Santa e dell’Oriente Franciscano. Serie 1 (Florence, 1906–13), 1:129–149.

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(and successfully) promoted Franciscan ideals at the imperial court. The poverty ideal may well have appealed to our author as useful in the context of the empire’s and his emperor’s plight. A parallel between Joachimist thought and our author is in the significance of the time circa 1260. If my dating of the composition of Baldwin’s horoscope holds true (in or around 1260), according to our author the time around the said year would be the starting point for a period of imperial renewal and restauration. Indeed, it is clear from the horoscope that Baldwin’s victory over his enemies is situated in the very near future (see Chapter 4). A second parallel is that this post-1260 era would be eschatological in nature, following our author’s references to the Last Emperor tradition. A third parallel is that before the post-1260 period commences the focus will be on “the son.” It was Baldwin’s son who, after having been redeemed from merchants, would rescue his parents—and their empire—from poverty. I don’t mean to claim that our author was a Joachimist (or that our author’s views are entirely consistent with Joachimist prophecies), but it does seem possible, influenced by Benedict of Arezzo or one of his Franciscan colleagues, that he was familiar with Joachimist concepts and mixed elements that he deemed useful from both Byzantine and Joachimist eschatological tradition.30 Returning to the Byzantine-inspired association between emperor and God/Christ in our corpus of texts, this element may be in part responsible for the conspicuous fact that no reference is to be found to crusade ideology. Both the versified introduction, as well as Baldwin’s horoscope itself, repeatedly mention the emperor’s extensive travels to the West in search of aid (1236–1239 and 1245–1249), but such Western aid for Constantinople is never presented in terms of crusading (by references to crusading vows, the crusade indulgence, the importance of Latin Constantinople for the protection of the Holy Land, etc.). Yet most of the military and financial support that reached Latin Romania in the 1230s and 1240s had been the result of crusade appeals by the s­uccessive popes Gregory ix (1227–1241) and Innocent iv (1243–1254). This contradiction could be explained in the sense that the fundamental ­dependence of the entire crusading concept upon the papacy may have been acceptable from a practical point of view, but not from an ideological one: a universal ruler crowned by God needed no reference to any other (in casu papal) authority in the context of his efforts to gather Western support. The fact that the crusade concept was alien to Byzantine culture may 30

On Joachimism and Joachimist Franciscans: Marjorie Reeves, The Influence of Prophecy in the Later Middle ages. A Study in Joachimism (Oxford, 1969), 175–190. Harvey J. Hames, Like Angels on Jacob’s Ladder. Abraham Abulafia, the Franciscans and Joachimism (Albany, 2007), 11–25.

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perhaps have been an influence. This hypothesis would imply that Baldwin saw himself n ­ ever as what has been called a “crusader emperor” or his empire as a “crusader state.” Given the context within which he had to operate, crusading inevitably was an important part of his political action, as it had been for his predecessors, either as an instrument for obtaining Western aid or as an instrument for demonstrating the emperor’s piety and the empire’s potential as protector—or suzerain—of the Holy Land (Baldwin ii’s personal participation in the 1249 Damietta campaign during the Seventh Crusade), but it seems never to have been an integral component of the identity he ascribed to his empire.31 The adoption of key elements of Byzantine imperial ideology—universalist claim, Roman character, close association with Christ-emperor—by the Latin emperors, and specifically by Baldwin ii, can be linked to the fact that Baldwin’s court was not only composed of persons of Western descent, but also of Byzantines, although the emperor chose to deny the use of Graeci as his consiliarii in his correspondence with his wife’s xenophobic relative Blanche of C ­ astile, mother of Louis ix of France.32 Sources mention phylax John but a number of others as well: Maximos Aloubardes and Nikephoritzes/Nikephoros, both attested as imperial hupogrammateus or (under)secretary before 1261;33 31

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Ioannis Stouraitis, “Jihad and Crusade: Byzantine Positions towards the Notions of Holy War,” Byzantina Symmeikta 21 (2011) 11–63. On the place of crusading and the Holy Land in the politics of Baldwin’s predecessors: Van Tricht, The Latin Renovatio of Byzantium, 95–99, 433–472. On crusader support for Latin Constantinople under Baldwin ii: Chrissis, Crusading in Frankish Greece, 120–126, 155–159. See Baldwin’s August 1243 letter to Blanche: André Duchesne, ed., Historiae Francorum Scriptores (Paris, 1649), 5:423–424. Baldwin’s denial destined to soothe the French queenmother, a potential benefactor, can perhaps be seen in the context of earlier Byzantine diplomacy and its role of disinformation and duplicity: Jonathan Shepard, “Byzantine Diplomacy, a.d. 800–1204: Means and Ends,” in idem and Simon C. Franklin, eds., Byzantine Diplomacy (Aldershot, 1992), 41–71. Perhaps we could also see a link between Baldwin’s untrue statement and the role attributed to the emperor of Constantinople as “the arbiter of truth” in works of medieval French literature (such as the Franco-Italian chanson de geste entitled Macaire/Macario), allowing him to twist the truth as he pleases: Rima Devereaux, Constantinople and the West in Medieval French Literature, Gallica 25 (Cambridge, 2012), 118–119. See also Erica Gilles, “Men of France? Boundary Crossing in Constantinople in the 1240’s,” in Katherine L. Jansen, G. Geltner, and Anne E. Lester, eds., Center and periphery: studies on power in the medieval world in honor of William Chester Jordan, Later Medieval Europe (Leiden, 2013), 219. Georgios Pachymeres, Relations Historiques, lib. 2, §36. Nikephoritzes (a diminutive of Nikephoros) is no doubt to be identified with the Niquefores who sometime before 1261 functioned as imperial envoy to Otho of Cicon, lord of Karystos on Euboia (Riant, Exuviae Sacrae Constantinopolitanae, 2: n° 93). Both are attested after 1261 being in the service of Michael viii Paleologos: Franz Dölger and Peter Wirth, eds., “Regesten der

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perhaps also deacon and epi ton deeseon Demetrios Pyrros (1240), although he may have been connected to the Doukai’s imperial court in Thessaloniki;34 the priest Demetrios, perhaps to be identified with the former, to whom Baldwin ii shortly before 1261 gave instructions to build a Byzantine-style church dedicated to Saint George;35 the Byzantine envoys whom Baldwin ii in 1259 sent to Nicaea to negotiate a treaty;36 the Byzantine archontes who in July 1261 fled the capital together with Baldwin ii after it had fallen to the Nicaean general Alexios Strategopoulos.37 As mentioned, there were among the imperial elite a number of mixed marriages and their offspring, with, for example, Anselin of Cayeux marrying Isaac ii Angelos’ granddaughter Mary Angelos,38 and Philip, Narjot ii, and Anselin of Toucy being sons of the daughter of the feudal prince of Adrianople, Theodore Branas.39 Through these affiliations Byzantine political ideas and traditions must have continued to find their way to the emperor’s court, as they had done under Baldwin’s predecessors.40 Imperial ideas and politics, of course, were at the same time heavily imbued with typically Western elements and concepts (such as the use of Western ­ eiserurkunden des Oströmischen Reiches von 565–1453.” 3. “Regesten von 1204–1282,” K 2nd ed., in Corpus der Griechischen Urkunden des Mittelalters und der Neueren Zeit, Reihe A: Regesten 1 (Munich, 1977), n° 1901a). 34 Cf Van Tricht, The Latin Renovatio of Byzantium, 126 (n. 88), and Jacoby, “The Greeks of Constantinople under Latin Rule,” 60. 35 Corinna Matzukis, ed. and trans., The Fall of Constantinople, Fourth Crusade. A critical edition with translation and historical commentary of the Codex 408 Marcianus Graecus ( ff. 1–13v) in the Library of St. Mark (Venice/Athens, 2004), 123–127. On this source, see also Peter Charanis, “Les Brachea Chronika comme source historique. An important short chronicle of the fourteenth century,” Byzantion 13 (1938) 335–337. 36 Georgios Pachymeres, Relations Historiques, lib. 2, §10. On the date: Dölger and Wirth, Regesten der Kaiserurkunden des Oströmischen Reiches, n° 1867b. 37 Longnon, Chronique de Morée, §87. 38 Innocentius iv, Les registres (1243–1254), ed. Elie Berger, in Registres des papes du XIIIe siècle (Paris, 1884–1921), n° 6862 and 7178. Alexander iv, Les registres (1254–1261), ed. Charles Bourel de la Roncière, Registres des papes du XIIIe siècle (Paris, 1896–1959), n° 48. Mary was a daughter of John Angelos (son of Isaac ii Angelos and Margaret of Hungary, sister of king Andrew ii) and Mathilde of Courtenay (granddaughter of the imperial couple Peter of Courtenay and Yolande of Flanders/Hainaut). See also Gordon McDaniel, “On Hungarian-Serbian relations in the thirteenth century John Angelos and Queen Jelena,” Ungarn-Jahrbuch 12 (1982–1983), 43–45. Michael Angold misses this marriage as well as several others, leading him to questionable conclusions regarding the marriage strategies of the Latin rulers, especially in Constantinople. Cf Michael Angold, “The Latin Empire of Constantinople, 1204–1261: Marriage Strategies,” in Judith Herrin and Guillaume SaintGuillain, eds., Identities and Allegiances in the Eastern Mediterranean after 1204 (Farnham, 2011), 47–67, and Van Tricht, “Robert of Courtenay,” 1009–1015. 39 See reference in note 18. 40 See also note 17.

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style court titles along side Byzantine ones and Western aspects in the iconography of imperial seals next to Byzantine ones). One example is the acceptance of the intervention of the papacy as an external power in internal church ­affairs. It should, however, be remembered that this was something Michael viii ­Paleologos, in an attempt to ward off the growing threat of an attack by Baldwin ii and Charles i of Anjou, king of Sicily, also accepted with the Union of Lyon in 1274. Even Manuel i Komnenos (1143–1180) had for a time considered recognizing papal primacy (and its consequences) in exchange for papal recognition of the exclusivity of his (Roman) imperial title.41 Another e­ xample is the feudal restructuring of the empire, with the creation of hereditary vassalitic relationships between emperor and local rulers, who enjoyed a large measure of autonomy (including extensive judicial and fiscal prerogatives), and with a “mixed council” of barons (magnates) and Venetian representatives that at least theoretically had a large say in the imperial decision-making process. This political system at first sight leaves little room for the Byzantine idea of imperial autocracy. Of course growing feudal or other decentralizing tendencies—with institutions such as the pronoia which is essentially feudal in nature, with local archontes striving for regional autonomy, with entire ­regions acquiring far-reaching autonomy (for example, Armenian Cilicia and Latin Antioch), and with the Italian sea cities obtaining ever increasing commercial, fiscal, judicial, and territorial privileges—had not been unknown in Byzantium in the period leading up to 1204.42 Likewise, Byzantine imperial autocracy in practice was far from absolute. Indeed, consensual decision making and collective consultation were very much a part of Byzantine political reality and, to a point, also of Byzantine state ideology. There was, for example, already an imperial council in the 12th century composed of members of the landed aristocracy and of the civil ­bureaucracy, which played an important role in the imperial decision making process. In addition, the senatorial body in theory always remained an instrumental factor in the appointment of a new emperor.43 Conversely—as in the 41

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On the geopolitical context of the 1274 union: Geanakolpos, Emperor Michael Palaeologus and the West, 239–263; Chrissis, Crusading in Frankish Greece, 217–226. On the negotiations between emperor Manuel i and Pope Alexander iii: Magdalino, The Empire of Manuel i Komnenos, 83–92; Michael Angold, Church and society in Byzantium under the Comneni (1081–1261) (Cambridge, 1995), 109–110. See on the mix of Western and Byzantine elements in Latin imperial politics, on the ­relationship with the papacy, and on the feudal restructuring of the empire: Van Tricht, The Latin Renovatio of Byzantium, passim; Jean-Claude Cheynet, Pouvoir et contestations à Byzance (963–1210), Byzantina Sorbonensia 9 (Paris, 1990), 427. A succinct introduction concerning the debate on feudalism in Byzantium (with further references): Peter Sarris, “Economics, Trade and ‘Feudalism,’” in Liz James, ed., A Companion to Byzantium (Chicester, 2010), 40–42. On collective decision-making in Byzantium:

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case of his brother Robert—the autocratic ideal was not absent from Baldwin ii’s rule either, although in many ways his actual grip on things was often tenuous (being at times upstaged by subordinate feudal partners such as the prince of Achaia or the Republic of Venice). This was equally the case for earlier and later emperors of Constantinople in times of prolonged crisis when faced with multi-faceted internal and external threats to their authority, as, for example, the later Paleologan emperors.44 The constitutional pact of October 1205 between regent Henry of Flanders/ Hainaut and Venetian podestà Marino Zeno stipulated that any new emperor was required to confirm this treaty by oath, with the inclusion of the ­preceding pact of March 1204 concluded by the leaders of the Fourth Crusade (Doge Enrico Dandolo, the counts Baldwin ix/vi of Flanders/Hainaut, Louis of Blois, and Hugo iv of Saint-Pol), and the feudal repartition of the empire (the socalled Partitio terrarum imperii Romanie).45 It is telling that in the Venetian archives oaths in writing confirming these treaties to Venetian representatives have been preserved for every single emperor (and for one regent at the time of his appointment) except for Baldwin ii.46 It may be questioned whether such a document ever existed. Given its importance in providing a legal basis for the extensive Venetian rights and possessions in Romania, it is unlikely that

44

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Demetrios Kyritses, “The Imperial Council and the Tradition of Consultative Decisionmaking in Byzantium (eleventh to fourteenth centuries),” in Dimiter Angelov and Michael Saxby, eds., Power and Subversion in Byzantium. Papers from the 43rd Spring Symposium of Byzantine Studies, Birmingham, March 2010 (Farnham, 2013), 57–70; idem, “Political and Constitutional Crisis at the End of the Twelfth Century,” in Alicia Simpson, ed., Byzantium, 1180–1204: “The Sad Quarter of the Century?” International Symposium 22 (Athens, 2015), 97–111. Anthony Kaldellis (The Byzantine Republic, 110–111), argues that the Byzantine (Roman) empire in essence was still a republic in the sense that only popular consent could authorize the allocation of power. The author’s contribution is valuable in relativizing imperial autocracy and theocracy, but his proclamation of popular sovereignty as the cornerstone of Byzantine politics remains unconvincing. See Yannis Stouraitis, Review of Kaldellis, “The Byzantine Republic,” Journal of Hellenic Studies 136 (2016) 296–297. On Robert see: Van Tricht, “Robert of Courtenay,” 1031. On the later Paleologan emperors who were like Baldwin ii confronted with a gap between imperial ideology and actual internal and external politics: Donald Nicol, The Last Centuries of Byzantium 1261–1453 (Cambridge, 1993), 251–339. Tafel and Thomas, Urkunden, 1, n° 160, p. 573. In my book on the Latin empire I mistakenly wrote that this obligation was included in the pact of March 1204 (Van Tricht, The Latin Renovatio of Byzantium, 84). This is however not the case: the latter pact only stated that the partition of the fiefs should be confirmed by the emperor by oath (Walter Prevenier, De oorkonden van de graven van Vlaanderen (1191–aanvang 1206), Verzameling van de Akten der Belgische vorsten 5 (Brussel, 1964–1971), 2:n° 267). Tafel and Thomas, Urkunden, 2:n° 174 (Henry of Flanders/Hainaut in 1205), n° 249 (Peter of Courtenay and Yolande of Flanders/Hainaut in 1217), n° 256 (regent Cono i of Béthune in 1219), n° 260 (Robert of Courtenay in 1221), n° 270 (John of Brienne in 1231).

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such a document would have been lost. We may hypothesize that Baldwin, against the background of Byzantine imperial ideology and its autocratic element, had refused to formally confirm the said pacts by (written) oath. He may have seen such an oath as irreconcilable with his Byzantine-influenced notion of emperorship, although other elements may have played a role as well.47 Baldwin was in a position to act in this way. Unlike his predecessors prior to his coronation as sole emperor in 1240 he had been the heir-apparent to the throne for years (since the death of his brother Robert in early 1227), as stipulated by the 1229 pact between John of Brienne and the Constantinopolitan barons and supported among others by the papacy. In addition he had probably been crowned or proclaimed as co-emperor during his father-in-law John of Brienne’s reign (sometime between 1231 and 1236). Venice could not have blocked his coronation as sole emperor nor refused him as emperor for not swearing the oath.48 This was all the more so because at the time of his coronation in 1240 things were looking up from a geopolitical point of view: Baldwin brought with him a sizeable army of crusaders which for the time being made Venetian military support less of a necessity.49 Finally, the current patriarch—who performed the imperial coronation—Nicolao della Porta of Castell’Arquato near Piacenza (1234–1251) was, in spite of the stipulations of the March pact of 1204, not Venetian. He probably was appointed directly by Pope Gregory ix without Venetian involvement.50 In this context it should be mentioned that a clear anti-Venetian stance is apparent in our collection of astrological texts. 47 48

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His brother Robert before him had likewise undertaken action to limit Venetian influence and power (Van Tricht, “Robert of Courtenay,” 1030–1031). In 1205, for example, the Venetians had still been in a position to extort—apart from an oath in writing—the prestigious Hodegetria icon from Henry of Flanders/Hainaut before the Venetian patriarch Thomas Morosini crowned him: Robert L. Wolff, “A footnote to an incident of the latin occupation of Constantinople. The church and the icon of the Hodegetria,” Traditio 6 (1948) 319–328. On Baldwin ii’s coronation as co-emperor, see Chapter 3, p. 61. Venice was no doubt not in a position to extract an oath from Baldwin as co-emperor because of the arguments already stated (his status as heir-apparent) and because the constitutional treaties provided no basis for such a demand. In any case such a co-imperial oath should have been renewed at the time of Baldwin’s coronation as sole emperor. In this context it should be noted that Baldwin and his army did not travel from Venice by sea (like his parents Emperor Peter of Courtenay and Empress Yolande of Flanders/ Hainaut had done in 1217 and his father-in-law John of Brienne in 1231), but—like his brother Robert—took the overland route through Germany, Hungary, and Bulgaria. On these expeditions, see (with further references) Chrissis, Crusading in Frankish Greece, 60–62, 91–92, and 125–126. Robert L. Wolff, “Politics in the Latin Patriarchate of Constantinople,” Dumbarton Oaks Papers 8 (1954), 289.

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In other ways Baldwin ii could also act as an autocratic ruler, disregarding the stipulations of the constitutional pacts of 1204 and 1205. For example, the principality and later kingdom of Thessaloniki had been granted to Boniface i of Montferrat and his heirs by virtue of the partition treaty and the pact of March 1204. By the end of 1224 the entire kingdom had been conquered by the Epirotes. A rescue expedition led by marquis William vi of Montferrat (1203– 1225) failed. Boniface’s son (by Margaret of Hungary, Isaac ii Angelos’ widow) and heir to King Demetrios of Montferrat died childless in October 1230 in Melfi in Southern Italy. He had been attempting to obtain aid from Emperor Frederick ii, while his wife Hermingarde of La Roche, daughter of the first Latin lord of Athens Otho i, sought refuge in Constantinople. In May 1240 Baldwin ii granted the rights to the lost kingdom to Helena Angelos and her husband Guglielmo i of Verona, tercierus (triarch) of Euboia, who no doubt had come to Constantinople for the imperial coronation and participated in the emperor’s subsequent Thracian campaign. The charter refers explicitly to the fact that Helena was Demetrios’ niece (neptis). She was the daughter of John Angelos, Demetrios’ half-brother, and Baldwin’s own niece Mathilde of Courtenay, but was not related to the Montferrat family. Thus Baldwin granted Thessaloniki to his own relative and completely negated the hereditary rights of Boniface i’s grandson marquis Boniface ii of Montferrat (1225–1253), who had participated personally in the 1224–1225 Thessalonican crusade. And although Baldwin ii’s 1240 grant does not seem to have inspired any specific action on Boniface’s part to claim his heritage, occupied as he was by the Guelph-Ghibelline conflict, Thessaloniki was not forgotten in Montferrat. When, in 1284, Boniface ii’s granddaughter Yolande of Montferrat married Emperor Andronikos ii Paleologos (1282–1328) her dowry was precisely the regnum Thessalonice.51

51

Loenertz, “Les seigneurs tierciers de Négrepont de 1205 à 1280,” n° 1, p. 268. On Hermingarde of La Roche, queen of Thessaloniki, see Van Tricht, The Latin Renovatio of Byzantium, 193, 381–382. On Helena Angelos, see McDaniel, “On Hungarian-Serbian relations in the thirteenth century: John Angelos and Queen Jelena,” 43–50, Walter Haberstumpf, “Questioni prosopografiche e istituzionali circa il regno aleramico di Tessalonica nel sec. xiii,” Bollettino Storico-Bibliografico Subalpino 87 (1989) 201–202, and Van Tricht, Op. cit., 178. Guglielmo’s wife is in my view to be identified with John and Mathilde’s daughter Helena who circa 1250 would marry the Serbian king Stephen Uros i (1243–1276). In this way there is no need to “invent” a Montferrat family member as does Haberstumpf. On the Monferrats and Thessaloniki, see Michael B. Wellas, Das westliche Kaiserreich und das lateinische Königreich Thessalonike (Athen, 1987), 24–47, 137–151 (the author inter alia convincingly dispels the idea found in older historiography that Emperor Frederick ii ­obtained the rights to the Thessalonican kingdom from Demetrios and later granted them to Boniface ii); Matgorzata Daborwska, “Is there any room for a Latin lady on the Bosporus?” Byzantinoslavica 66 (2008) 229–239.

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A more drastic example of autocratic disregard for the constitutional treaties is the bestowal for life of the feudal overlordship of the island of Euboia and the ducatus (or duchy) of Naxos—and around the same time probably also the duchy of Athens and the lordship of Bodonitza (both in any case before 1259)— to prince of Achaia and imperial seneschal William ii of Villehardouin somewhere between 1248 and 1255. This was no doubt in recompense for the aid that Achaia had repeatedly provided to Constantinople. Indeed, prince William’s expedition in aid of Constantinople in 1248—referred to only in a letter by William of Autremencourt, lord of Salona—may well have been the context within which the bestowal of overlordships took place.52 A second motivation may have been the desire to impose some measure of unity in ­politically fragmented southern Latin Greece. However, in doing so the emperor completely negated the fact that the 1204 partition treaty had awarded Euboia to Venice, which in 1211 had instated an official in the town of Negropont to actively exert the Serenissima’s rights as local suzerain. The imperial bestowal of Achaian overlordship of Euboia was, however, not readily accepted by all parties involved. In 1255–1258 this lead to a regional conflict and war between Venice and William ii and their respective allies, with Athens and Bodonitza, who by this time possibly also were William ii’s new vassals, supporting the Venetian cause.53 A phrase in the November 1248 letter by William of Autrementcourt, who was a vassal of the duke of Athens and sided with him in the 1255–1258 conflict, perhaps sheds light on the motivations of these southern feudal lords. In it the lord of Salona excuses himself vis-à-vis the bishop of Laon for not being able to do him homage for the fiefs he held from him. He refers to his participation in a recent campaign ad partes Constantinopolis, together with the prince of Achaia (dominum principem), and to the difficult situation of the terra Romanie. He concludes that the barones Romanie would not let him leave the region in order to do homage in person to the bishop. The absence of any mention of the emperor is somewhat conspicuous. It would seem that in William’s eyes a group of barons decided what was needed for the defence of the empire. And indeed, according to the October 1205 treaty it was the ­emperor together with what I have elsewhere termed the “mixed council,” composed of non-Venetian magnates and Venetian representatives, that decided the 52 53

Guillaume Saint-Guillain, “Les seigneurs de Salona, un lignage picard en Grèce médiévale,” Thesaurismata 44 (2014), 22–24, 49. On the 1255–1258 conflict: Marino Sanudo Torsello, Istoria della Romagna, 99; Longnon, Chronique de Morée, §222–223; Longnon, “Le traité de Viterbe entre Charles Ier d’Anjou et Guillaume de Villehardouin (24 mai 1267),” 311; Hopf, “Urkunden und Zusätze zur ­Geschichte der Insel Andros,” n° 8, p. 243; Jacoby, La féodalité en Grèce médiévale, 21–24, 190–192.

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amount of military service owed to the emperor and what action needed to be undertaken ad defendum et manutenendum imperium. Apart from some limited references during the Latin empire’s opening years (until 1207), however, we find little or no trace of this “mixed council” effectively deciding imperial defensive policy. This task rather appears to have been the prerogative of the emperor and a personalized imperial council of barons and advisers.54 William’s phrase then may mean one of two things: either the barons from the various regions of the empire had managed to (re)gain decisive influence in the emperor’s council, or—and this seems more likely—it is a reflexion of some southern barons’ view on how the balance of power between emperor and barons should ideally be (and which found support in the constitutional 1204 and 1205 treaties). The fact that Baldwin did grant the feudal overlordship of various regions in southern Greece to the prince of Achaia—despite reservations from local princes and barons, which came to the fore during the 1255–1258 conflict—indeed seems to exclude the first possibility. Ultimately prince William ii was victorious and thereby the imperial claim to unilateral authority over the feudal superstructure of the empire also ­prevailed. Baldwin ii in this way followed in the footsteps of his predecessors. Emperor Henry, for example, in 1209 had recognized Geoffrey i of Villehardouin’s rule over Achaia (and had also granted him the imperial seneschal title), even though the partition treaty had awarded the entire Peloponnese to Venice. The Serenissima could do no more than try to salvage the situation by concluding her own agreement with Geoffrey. Evidently, for the Latin emperors their personal will as God-crowned sovereigns was deemed to take precedence over the constitutional treaties or other arrangements or interests. In this way—and in line with the concept of Byzantine autocracy—in their eyes the imperial will remained the ultimate source of authority, although, of course, political realities had always to be taken into account in order to rule more or less successfully.55

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The phrase barones Romanie cannot be explained by Baldwin ii being absent from the empire. By late 1248 the emperor, having returned from his second Western voyage, was again ruling in person from the capital, as is attested by an imperial charter dated Constantinople, 8 October 1248 (Teulet, Layettes du Trésor des Chartes 3: n° 3727, 50). See on the “mixed council” and the emperor’s more personalized consilium: Van Tricht, The Latin Renovation of Byzantium, 251–253. See also Van Tricht, “Claiming the Basileia ton Rhomaion: A Latin imperial dynasty in Byzantium,” 271–275.

Chapter 3

Internal Rivalries at Court Apart from the adoption of key tenets of Byzantine imperial ideology, Baldwin’s horoscope reflects other aspects of imperial thought at the Constantinopolitan court around 1260. The geopolitical reality of that time, and as it had been since the late 1220s, was that an enormous gap existed between universalist aspirations and the limited scope of the territories under Baldwin’s direct or indirect control (through feudal ties). The imperial domain itself was confined to the capital and its immediate hinterland in Thrace, with a number of relatively remote feudal dependencies—such as the principalities of Achaia, the lordship of Athens, the island of Euboia, the ducatus of Naxos, the Venetian territories, but also the principality on Antioch (the symbolic gateway to the East in Byzantine eyes, and in personal union with the county of Tripoli)— making up the rest of the empire. The threat from the neighbouring empire of Nicaea was always real and especially after the failure of the Pelagonia coalition (1259) became acute, with another (unsuccessful) siege of Constantinople undertaken in 1260 by Michael viii Paleologos.1 Baldwin’s horoscope makes no attempt to obscure the dire straits he and his empire were in. On the contrary, the emperor’s financial problems and reduced lands are repeatedly stressed, both in the introductory poem (“a pou d’avoir” (v348), “grand estroiceté de terre” (v351), “auroient assez destroice et povreté” (v365–366), “iroit moult a declin” (v375), “il remaindroit en sa cité / ou il auroit grand povreté” (v377)), as well as in the actual horoscope (“les possessions de l’empire qui sunt toloites par la lance de Mars […]; ce est par les batalles qui apparoissent si forz par quoi li ami ne li aident mie par quoi la povreté li court sus […]; la Coe […] et Mars […] et Saturnus […] avoient force devant touz en gaster ses richeces et sa peccune […]; les contraires planetes qui li avoient gastées les

1 See, in general, on geopolitical conditions during Baldwin’s reign: Longnon, L’empire latin de Constantinople, 181–225; Geanakoplos, Emperor Michael Palaeologus and the West, 47–74; Langdon, John iii Ducas Vatatzes’ Byzantine Empire in Anatolian Exile, 114–257. Van Tricht, De Latijnse Renovatio van Byzantium, 2: 744–796. On the feudal link between Latin Constantinople and Antioch, see: Van Tricht, The Latin Renovatio of Byzantium, 433–439. As additional evidence may be mentioned that Patriarch Nicolao della Porta in 1245 at the Council of Lyon mentioned Antioch as evidently being part of the Constantinopolitan empire (Matthaeus Parisiensis, Chronica Majora, ed. Henry R. Luard, Rerum Brittanicarum Medii Aevi Scriptores (London, 1874), 4: 431–432). On the Pelagonia coalition in 1259, see Chapter 4, p. 82–85.

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possessions […]; lor povreté and leur soffraite”).2 As I have argued this perhaps has something to do with the Byzantine eschatological tradition concerning a poor Last Emperor and also with Franciscan and Joachimist influence, but the remarkable repetitiveness implies that there may be more to it. Our author’s intention seems clear: he attempts to turn a potential argument against Baldwin’s position as emperor into his favour.3 Indeed, the many setbacks and difficulties Baldwin suffers are not to be interpreted as a sign of a lack or loss of divine support. Rather, Baldwin’s survival in their face is to be considered wondrous and as a token of unrelenting divine aid, which eventually will lead him to restore his empire (see the previously quoted passage: “a pou d’avoir par son grant sens / en grant ennui et en grant guerre / en grant estroiceté de terre / le maintendroit longuement Dex / si qu’il ne seroit hom mortex/qui de lui ne se mervellast / quar ausit cum se il s’esvellast / resordroit il et ses empires”). This line of reasoning to legitimize one’s rule over an ailing empire is not without parallel in Byzantine imperial thought. During the 7th–9th centuries, in the context of continuing Islamic and Slavic large-scale assaults and conquests (with Constantinople itself being besieged several times), the concept of what Jonathan Shepard has called “survivalist imperialism” came into existence. According to Shepard in that period: there developed through the protracted state of emergency from the seventh to ninth centuries a kind of ‘survivalist imperialism’ heavily imbued with Christian teleology and rites of intercession. The ability of emperor 2 BnF, fr.1353, f. 4ra-rb (=Appendix 1, v348–377, “with few possessions,” “with little lands,” “they will be in distress and in poverty,” “there will be great decline,” “he will remain in his city/ where he will know great poverty”), f. 101ra-rb and f.102rb (=Appendix 2, §2–3, §10, “the possessions of the empire that will be taken away by the lance of Mars,” “it is because of the battles which are so fierce that the friends do not help him, which will lead him to poverty,” “the Tail […] and Mars […] and Saturn possess the force to first of all destroy his riches and his finances,” “the opposing planets that have destroyed his possessions,” “their poverty,” “their suffering”). In letters to King Louis ix of France and queen-mother Blanche of Castile, Baldwin ii himself also stressed that he was oppressed by tanta inopiae et paupertatis angustia or explicitly mentioned his multimodas paupertatis angustias (Duchesne, Historiae Francorum Scriptores, 5:423–425). 3 See Burkhardt, “Court Ceremonies and Rituals of Power in the Latin Empire,” 287, who states that any Byzantine emperor needed to live up to the imperial virtue of being—or pretending to be—victorious. In the West the ability to at least ensure the safety of the realm was of course expected from sovereigns as well (Björn Weiler, “Describing Rituals of Successions and Legitimation of Kingship in the West, ca. 1000–1150,” in Alexander Beihammer, Stavroula Constantinou, and Maria Parani, eds., Ceremonies and Rituals of Power in Byzantium and the Medieval Mediterranean: Comparative Perspectives, The Medieval Mediterranean 98 (Leiden, 2013), 138–139).

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and capital repeatedly to hold out against the earthly odds became cause for wonder, praise and faith that attached to both the idea of empire and the divine protectors who repelled all assailants of Constantinople. To a remarkable extent, this served to shift attention from the emperor’s inability to provide full security for many of his outlying possessions.4 Whether what we might similarly call our author’s—and no doubt also Baldwin’s—survivalist imperialism was influenced by this earlier Byzantine line of thinking, or rather should be considered an unrelated analogous development (born out of similar circumstances), is impossible to say given the paucity of available sources. The first option should however not be ruled out a priori. As we shall see, Latin intellectuals in Constantinople, our author among them, were interested in Greek and Byzantine literature and were in contact with Byzantine intellectuals. In this way they may have acquainted themselves with texts reflecting this earlier Byzantine survivalist imperialism. The apologetic nature of our author’s survivalist imperialism is obvious, but on another level—by adhering to a particular brand of astrology—our texts also display a clear apologetic strand. That an emperor and people at his court were interested in an occult science such as astrology is in itself not that ­remarkable. Astrology’s popularity had been on the rise in segments of the intellectual milieus in both East and West throughout the 12th century, although it remained a controversial discipline. Together with other occult disciplines (dream interpretation, eschatological prophecies, sorcery, dish-­divining, oracles, etc.) it was in particular much en vogue at the Byzantine imperial court, as Paul Magdalino has shown. The Komnenoi and Angeloi emperors all made use of astrologers and other occultists, and were criticized for it by some chroniclers (such as Niketas Choniates). As mentioned, Manuel i Komnenos authored a public defence of astrology, asserting that the discipline was compatible with Christian doctrine. It was explicitly directed at those who considered it a heretical art. Furthermore, Magdalino is of the opinion that astrology constituted an important element of the Byzantine elite’s general culture.5 In the West the translations made on the Iberian peninsula of Arabic astrological treatises into Latin from the beginning of the early 12th century onward were a fundamental factor in a slowly reemerging popularity. But before the 4 Jonathan Shepard, “Emperors and Expansionism. From Rome to Middle Byzantium,” in David Abulafia and Nora Berend, eds., Medieval Frontiers: Concepts and Practices (Farnham, 2002), 81. 5 Paul Magdalino, “Occult Science and Imperial Power in Byzantine History and Historiography (9th–12th centuries),” in Paul Magdalino and Maria Mavroudi, eds., The Occult Sciences in Byzantium (Paris, 2006), 141–160. Idem, L’orthodoxie des astrologues, 109–132. On Manuel’s public defence of astrology: George, “Manuel i Komnenos and Michael Glycas,” 3–48.

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end of the 13th century there are only a limited number of examples where astrology (in more than rudimentary form or as more than astrological lore) can be directly linked to princely courts. The English royal court in the second half of the 12th century can tentatively be linked to persons with an interest in astrology. Translator of Arabic material Adelard of Bath may have authored ten horoscopes concerning political life during the reign of the king of England Stephen of Blois (1135–1154); he dedicated his De opere astrolapsus to the young Henry Plantagenet, duke of Normandy (1170–1183), and may have had a connection to his court (1151–1160). Roger of Hereford, appointed as itinerant justiciar by Henry ii (1154–1189), composed a retrospective horoscope of the French and later English queen Eleonore of Aquitaine. In France one isolated astrological interrogation was made on behalf of the French king Philip ii (1186), probably by his physician Robert of Fournival. In northern Italy from around 1230 at the court of Ezzelino da Romano, lord of the March of Treviso (1223–1259), several astrologers—including the famed Guido Bonatti, author of the influential treatise Liber introductorius ad judicia stellarum, not unlike our author’s Introductoire—are attested. In Rome at the papal court scholars with a clear interest in astrology were also present— such as Philip of Tripoli, translator of the Secretum Secretorum (circa 1230)—as well as interests in other occult sciences. In the kingdom of Sicily there was the successive presence of the scholars Michael Scot—who had previously worked at the papal court of Honorius iii and wrote an astrological compilation (Liber introductorius)—and Theodore of Antioch operating as astrologers (among other functions) at the imperial court of Frederick ii of Hohenstaufen (early 1220s–1240s). On the Iberian peninsula, Alfonso x of Castile inaugurated a large-scale translation project of numerous Arabic astrological works (1254–1284).6 In Latin Constantinople, itself, no interest in astrology has been 6 For the same period, a number of additional princely horoscopes are known, but in these cases a link with the imperial or royal court is missing, for example a horoscope concerning the birth of Holy Roman Emperor Frederick i Barbarossa’s first-born son (1164) by one Philippus Ianuensis. See Stephen McCluskey, Astronomies and Cultures in Early Medieval Europe (Cambridge, 1998), 140–145; Lynn Thorndike, “The Horoscope of Barbarossa’s First-Born,” The American Historical Review 64 (1959) 319–322; North, “Scholars and Power: Astrologers at the Courts of Medieval Europe,” 15–18; Boudet, “Les horoscopes princiers,” 376–382; idem, Entre science et nigromance. Astrologie, divination et magie dans l’Occident médiéval (XIIe–XVe siècle) (Paris, 2006), 168–203; David Abulafia, Frederick ii. A Medieval Emperor (London, 1992), 261– 263; Charles Burnett, “Michael Scot and the Transmission of Scientific Culture from Toledo to Bologna via the Court of Frederick ii Hohenstaufen,” Micrologus 2 (1994) 119–120; Agostino Paravicini Bagliani, “Federico ii e la Curia romana: rapporti culturali e scientifici,” in Pierre Toubert and Agostino Paravicini Bagliani, eds., Federico ii e le scienze (Palermo, 1995), 439– 458; Otto Mazal, Geschichte der abendländischen Wissenschaft des Mittelalters (Graz, 2006), 1:119–120. A pseudonymous prophetic text produced and circulating at the papal court in the

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a­ ttested before Baldwin ii’s reign, but related occult disciplines have been: eschatological prophesizing in the entourage of Emperor Henry of Flanders/ Hainaut and possibly also Emperor Peter of Courtenay, and dream interpretation in the entourage of Emperor John of Brienne, as with the Franciscan provincial Benedict of Arezzo. As already stated the latter as Baldwin’s confidant foretold things that in the emperor’s eyes actually came to pass.7 While astrology was on the rise, at the same time ecclesiastical authorities in both East and West showed concern. Celestial determinism, which was inherent to astrology, was considered to infringe on the fundamental notion of man’s free will. In Byzantium influential 12th-century canonists John Zonaras and Theodore Balsamon condemned any form of astrology in the strongest terms, referring to ancient imperial and conciliar legislation as well as authoritative Church fathers John Chrysostom, Gregory of Nazianze, and Basil of Caesarea. An anonymous monk of the Pantokrator monastery around 1170 wrote a letter wherein astrology was denounced as heretical. It was this letter that induced Manuel Komnenos to write his public defence, to which another monk, Michael Glykas, wrote a sharp response. But while the official Church, as it had done in the late Roman/early Byzantine period, continued to firmly reject the validity of astrology as a science as well as the practice thereof, individual churchmen—as did secular scholars—dabbled in the discipline, patriarchs and metropolitans among them.8 In the West the Church’s official position was somewhat more nuanced. Influential 13th-century theologians William of Auvergne (circa 1180–1249), Albert the Great (circa 1200–1280), Thomas of Aquino (circa 1224–1274), and Bonaventura (circa 1221–1274)—in line with ideas of the earlier theologian Hugo of Saint Victor (circa 1130)—accepted that the heavily bodies exerted an influence on the physical bodies of men, but not on the rational human soul. The resulting individual inclinatio of the human body due to the constellations of the stars and planets was even deemed to be decisive where there was 1240s, among other topics, specifically addresses the Latin empire’s fate: Christian Jostmann, Sibilla Erithea babilonica: Papsttum und Prophetie im 13. Jahrhundert, Monumenta Germaniae HIstorica: Schriften 54 (Hannover, 2006). 7 Dream interpretation under Emperor John of Brienne: Wolff, “The Latin Empire of Constantinople and the Franciscans,” 216–220. Our author is also interested in dream interpretation: BnF, fr. 1353, f. 8va-f. 8vb (=Appendix 3, Ch. 2, §6–7). Interest in eschatological traditions under Emperor Henry and possibly Emperor Peter: Van Tricht, The Latin Renovatio of Byzantium, 465–471. See also Chapter 6, p. 176–177. 8 Magdalino, L’orthodoxie des astrologues, 160–162. For a brief overview of the position of the Church vis-à-vis astrology from the 2nd to the 5th century, see George, “Manuel i Komnenos and Michael Glykas,” 8–13.

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no primacy of the human intellect (ratio). Since according to the same theologians the latter condition was applicable to most men (passion prevailing over reason), the multitude was subject to their astral inclinations. Thomas explains this was the reason why astrologers’ predictions were often correct. Only the wise could dominate the stars, a position that excluded any kind of absolute astral determinism. This was all the more so because William, Albert, and Thomas did not allow for particular or individual astrological predictions, only for predictions of a general kind and then only on the condition that they had a conjectural character. In this way Thomas, and for example also John of la Rochelle (circa 1200–1245) before him, considered it to be a grave sin to make use of iudicia to predict things that depended on the human will. In line with this bishop of Paris Stephen Tempier in 1270 and again in 1277 would see himself obliged to publish decrees condemning—among other ideas—a­­number of astrological propositions that implied complete astral fatalism which denied the freedom of the human will, intellect, and soul.9 Against this background it becomes understandable that, as Pierre Duhem has stated in his monumental ten-volume survey of Western cosmological theories in the classical and medieval period, Western astrologers were not keen to explicitly confess adhesion to absolute astral fatalism, although this was to be found in much of the translated Arabic material on which they relied. Although they may well have believed in such fatalism (or in any case in stronger determinism than theologians would allow), they cautiously avoided the issue in their astrological introductions.10 Likewise in Byzantium, Emperor Manuel Komnenos in his public defence was prudent enough not to advocate absolute fatalist astrology by expressly stating that God could of course always suspend natural law (on which the motions of the heavenly bodies, and thus astrological predictions, depended) in His desire to work miracles.11

9

Jacques Halbronn, “L’itinéraire astrologique de trois Italiens du XIIIe siècle: Pietro d’Abano, Guido Bonatti, Thomas d’Aquin,” in Christian Wenin, ed., L’homme et son univers au Moyen Age. Actes du 7e Congrès International de Philosophie Médiévale (30 août–4 septembre 1982) (Louvain-la-Neuve, 1986), 671–673. Jacques G. Bougerol, “La question De fato au XIIIe siècle,” in Wenin, L’homme et son univer, 654–667. Tullio Gregory, “Théologie et astrologie dans la culture médiévale: un subtil face-à-face,” Bulletin de la Société française de Philosophie 84 (1990) 118–121. Thomas O’Loughlin, “Astrology and Thirteenth Century Philosophy: A New Angle on Old Problems,” Milltown Studies 33 (1994) 94–102. Luis M. Vicente Garcia, “Una nueva filosofia de la astrologia en los siglos xii y xiii. El impacto de las traducciones del arabe y la postura de Santo Thomas de Aquino,” Revista Española de Filosofiá 9 (2002) 258–262. Boudet, Entre science et nigromance, 205–255. 10 Duhem, Le système du monde, 8:399–400. 11 George, “Manuel i Komnenos and Michael Glykas,” 32–33.

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The author of our texts, as Duhem has convincingly argued, is however an exception to the rule. In the versified introduction our author states: “quar se le demande de enfant / ou de home ou de fame vivant / de sa fortune ou de sa vie / en le astrolabe ne faut mie / se il est bons astrologiens / que tout ne voie mals et biens.” This passage leads Duhem to conclude: “Une telle doctrine ne proclame peut-être pas le fatalisme absolu; mais, à coup sûr, elle l’implique.”12 The astrological treatise itself also contains numerous passages positing— by divine inspiration to be sure—that the celestial bodies govern all earthly things, for example “Si devez donques savoir que .xiiii. manieres sunt de tote la habitude des planetes. Et ces .xiiii. manieres demainent par mervellose lai et par devine condition touz les faiz et les movemenz et les passions et les naissemenz et les corruptions des choses.” In two instances it is explicitly made clear that the human soul and human thought—and thus human will—are subject to the celestial bodies. The first passage reads “La force des estoiles qui est en eles devinement assise s’en entre et se assemble plus tost et plus prestement es choses qui plus lor sunt prochienes et plus semblables a ce qui apartient a l’ame,” leading Duhem to state that the power of the stars sollicits the soul itself with a particular intensity.13 The second passage reads “la devine force del celestial cercle esmuet le demandeor a faire la demande et trait a soi et raporte l’entendement et la pensee de lui par une similitude et une semblablete que il ont ensemble, quar si cum j’ai dit meintes foiz le humaine condition ensuit ordeneement les affecz et les cours et le ordenement des cercles et des cors et des estoiles celestiaus,” leading Duhem to conclude that according to our author the stars generate thoughts in man’s minds and force them to act upon these thougths.14 Our author’s astral fatalism as he publicly propagated it in his works—and which ultimately was 12

13

14

BnF, fr.1353, f. 3vb (=Appendix 1, v205–210, “Because when one interrogates with regard to a child/Or to a living man or woman/About his fortune or his life/It is in the astrolabe/ When one is a good astrologer/That one sees all that is bad and good”). Duhem, Le système du monde , 403. BnF, fr.1353, f. 42va (“You must thus know that there are fourteen conditions that planets can have. And these fourteen conditions dominate by marvellous law and by divine disposition all facts and movements and passions and origins and destructions of things”), f. 63ra (=Appendix 3, Ch. 189, §2, “The power of the stars, which is divinely seated in them, enters and concentrates itself sooner and faster in things that are more near to them and that resemble more what belongs to the soul”). Duhem, Le système du monde , 415. BnF, fr.1353, f. 63vb (“the divine power of the heavenly circle moves the interrogator to execute the interrogation, and it attracts and then again returns his understanding and thoughts by way of a similarity and a semblance which they have among themselves, because, as I have said many times, the human condition orderly follows the effects and the courses and the organization of the heavenly circles and bodies and stars”). Duhem, Le système du monde, 416.

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inspired by God—had in the context of Baldwin ii’s court at Constantinople political advantage. It not only presented a much needed explanation for the state the empire was in and had been in for years, but also exonerated the emperor from any responsibility for failing to remedy the situation and restore the empire’s glory, despite various attempts to do so (inter alia the 1236–1241 crusade and the 1257–1259 Pelagonia coalition). After the disaster at Adrianople in April 1205 a traditional peccatis nostris exigentibus approach had been used as explanation, but during the later years of Baldwin ii’s reign - after decades of gradual decline - this obviously was no longer deemed expedient, opening the way for other, more controversial explanations (but as we have seen not aimed at the general public).15 The apologetic tenor of our author’s astrological trilogy (introductory poem, treatise, horoscope)—with its accent on both astral fatalism and survivalist imperialism—in combination with our author’s works being aimed at an inner circle of members of the imperial entourage suggests that Baldwin ii’s rather unsuccessful reign and politics (with its lack of a grandscale geopolitical/territorial restoration) went not uncriticized and caused serious tensions at court and elsewhere (William of Autremencourt, for instance). These tensions are explicitly confirmed by two passages in Baldwin’s horoscope. The first reads: Quar li signes de l’Escorpion, qui estoit en la .iii.ce meson, qui mostre bon semblant el chief et en la coe porte le venin, est signe de aucun de ses parenz ou de cels de sa meson, et ceaus qui li sunt tenu par fealté et par sarrement, qui ovec ses fals parenz voellent procurer sa mort. Et porce que li Escorpions est signe septentrionals, gart soit cist granz sires que ce ne soit fait en cele partie del an vers mars, quant li Solauz, qui li est contraires, a son exaucement el Mouton.16 The second reads: Et por ce que la Coe et Jupiter et Venus sunt nomper, et Venus a sa meson el Torel, et sunt en la .ix.me meson retrograde, segnefient .iiii. homes qui 15 16

On Baldwin ii’s role in the Pelagonia coalition, see Chapter 4, p. 82–85. A 1205 letter to pope Innocent iii from imperial regent Henry of Flanders/Hainault: Michel-Jean-Joseph Brial, ed., Recueil des Historiens des Gaules et de la France (Paris, 1822), 18: 526 BnF, fr.1353, f. 101rb (=Appendix 2, §3, “Because the sign of Scorpio—which was in the third house, and which pretends to one’s face, but carries venom in its tail—is the sign of some of his relatives or of those who belong to his house, and those who are bound to him by fealty and by oath, who with his false relatives want to procure his death. And since Scorpio is a septentrional sign may it be so that this is not done to this great lord during that part of the year around March, when the Sun, which is opposed to him, has its exaltation in Aries”).

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seront gité de la compagnie de cel segnor desquel il aura soupeçon. Les .ii. metra il bien hors, le tierz ne porra, ainz remeindra o lui par son veziement, et tracera touz jorz savoir se il li porra nuire. Quar li planete per, la Lune et Venus, ne sueffrent mie o les planetes nompers, le Chief del Dracon, Jupiter et Venus, dont cist .iii.ez sera dessevrez ausit de lui, et s’en istra confus del exaucement de cel segnor, lequel il cuidoit vendre a autre segnor comme degeté et envenimé.17 A little further it is specified that the four mentioned enemies are “anemi de sa personne, and not li segnor des reaumes et des terres qui sunt contraires a nostre empereor et a son empire.”18 Although both passages are—charac­ teristically—obscure, it is tempting to try to identify these persons opposed to ­Baldwin ii. There seems to be a major clue: the emperor’s enemies were members of his family and appear to have usually resided in his company at the imperial court.19 And since in both ­passages there is talk of a murder plot 17

18 19

BnF, fr.1353, f. 101rb-f. 101va (=Appendix 2, §4, “And because the Tail and Jupiter and Venus are odd, and Venus has its house in Taurus, and they are retrograde in the ninth house, they signify four men that wil be removed from the company of this lord and whom he will be suspicious of. Two of them he will throw out, but he will not be able to throw out the third as well. So this man will remain with him by sly ingenuity, and will look each day for ways to harm him. Because the even planets—the Moon and Venus—cannot endure with the odd planets—the Dragon’s Tail, Jupiter and Venus—therefore this third man will also be separated from him, and he will leave confused by the exaltation of this lord, whom he wanted to sell to another lord as expelled and empoisoned”). BnF, fr.1353, f. 102vb (=Appendix 2, §14, “personal enemies,” “the lords of realms and lands that oppose our lord and his empire”). There is also some resemblance to a report in Akropolites’ chronicle which concerns an attempt by Michael viii Paleologos to conquer Constantinople in 1260, whereby the emperor heavily relied on “one Anseau” who was captured in the battle of Pelagonia in 1259, who was Michael’s distant relative and who in return for high honors and great gifts had promised he would, after having been released, open several gates of Constantinople— which were under his command—to Nicaean troops. Akropolites tells us next that after setting him free Michael undertook a small-scale pretend-siege of Galata (late 1259–early 1260), but that in reality this was a ploy to move against Constantinople itself by getting in contact with Anseau inside the capital. The latter however did not keep his promise, allegedly because the archon of the city had taken the keys to the gates from him (Georgios Akropolites, Historia, §83). In spite of a superficial similarity to an element in the horoscope (see the phrase “lequel il cuidoit vendre a autre segnor”) there are reasons to doubt the veracity of this report. First of all, Akropolites was no eyewitness to the siege of Galata, since at the time he himself was in captivity in Epiros. Secondly, he is the only chronicler to present the Galata siege in this manner; both Pachymeres and Gregoras describe the siege as a large-scale military operation against Constantinople which simply failed, without any mention of treachery (Georgios Pachymeres, Relations historiques, lib. 2, §14, §17, §20; Nikephoros Gregoras, Bizantina Historia, ed. Ludwig Schopen and Immanuel ­Bekker,

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(procurer sa mort and envenimé) it may be surmised that the same cluster of adversaries is suggested in both instances. Given meager source material not many people in Latin-Byzantine Constantinople could count as Baldwin’s relatives. In fact only a few families present there at the time were related to the Courtenay family: the Béthune, the Cayeux, the Toucy, and the Brienne. As for the Béthune, the family’s last known representative to have fulfilled any important responsibilities in the imperial entourage, baron John of Béthune, died—before Baldwin’s coronation as sole emperor—in Venice in 1239 on his way to Constantinople, leading an expeditionary force for Baldwin ii’s planned crusade. There is no evidence of any tensions between him—or his family— and Baldwin ii or his predecessors.20 Similarly, relations between the Cayeux family and Baldwin appear to have been cordial. Anseau i of Cayeux was a participant in the 1204 crusade and achieved the post of regent of the empire in September 1238. His son Anseau ii, who was married to Eudokia Laskaris (daughter of the Nicaean emperor Theodore i (1205/1208–1221)), is mentioned second in the witness list of a 1240 imperial charter. Presumably in 1254 his son Anselin married Mary Angelos, daughter of John Angelos (a son of Margaret of Hungary, widow of both Emperor Isaac ii Angelos (1185–1195 and 1203) and marquis Boniface of Montferrat, lord of Thessaloniki (1204–1207)) and Mathilde of Courtenay, Baldwin’s niece. Baldwin himself intervened with the pope to obtain a dispensation. The same Anselin is attested in 1269 as imperial camerarius, indicating that

20

Corpus Scriptorum Historiae Byzantinae (Bonn, 1829–1855), lib. 4, §1). Consequently, Akropolites’ Anseau functions a bit too ostensibly as an instrument to lift any blame for the siege’s failure from Michael’s shoulders (his only—understandable—fault being his gullibility vis-à-vis a Latin to whom he was related). This may indicate that the story was concocted—either by Akropolites himself or by other people in Michael’s entourage from whom the chronicler must have heard it. Nevertheless, even if there would be some truth to the story, it would seem that the said Anseau never intended to effectively hand over the city (or the emperor); he only used a ruse to obtain his freedom. In my forthcoming article on the 1259 Pelagonia coalition I will address the question whether the cited Anseau is to be identified as Anselin of Toucy or Anselin of Cayeux (see Geanakoplos, “Greco-­ Latin Relations on the eve of the Byzantine Restoration,” 139–140; Georgios Akropolites, The History. Translated with an Introduction and Commentary, trans. Ruth Macrides, Oxford Studies in Byzantium (Oxford, 2007), 369, n. 3). On the Constantinopolitan branch of the Béthune family, in general: Longnon, Les compagnons de Villehardouin, 145–146; Ernst Warlop, The Flemish Nobility before 1300 (Kortrijk, 1975–76), 2/1:667. On John: Philippe Mouskes, Chronique rimée, ed. Frédéric A. de Reiffenberg, Collection de Chroniques belges inédites (Bruxelles, 1938), 2:571, 615, 626, 632–633, 642–644.

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he remained in imperial favor.21 The relationship with the Toucy family also appears to have been free of conflict. Both during Baldwin’s reign and before they supplied several regents—Narjot i is attested in 1228–1231, 1238–1240 and his son Philip, who, like his father, held the prestigious court title of kaisar, in 1247. Philip’s brother Anselin participated in the battle of Pelagonia. Being a Constantinopolitan baron he presumably did so as a member of an imperial contingent. Philip and his brother Narjot ii followed Baldwin ii to king of Sicily Charles i of Anjou’s court and obtained high positions there. Anselin, who after 1261 through marriage became a prominent Moreote baron, acquired large fiefdoms in Charles’ kingdom.22 Between Baldwin ii and the Brienne family, however, there was possible tension from the beginning of their relationship in early 1229, when the Constantinopolitan barons concluded an agreement with John of Brienne, former king of Jerusalem (1210–1225), making him emperor for life. Guy Perry—John’s most recent biographer—also recognized this possibility by stating that “the potential for a fraught relationship certainly existed,” but concluded that “there is no real evidence for trouble between John and his ward and successor Baldwin.”23 However, on the basis of various source material not used by Perry it seems useful to reexamine this conclusion. For Baldwin—who was about twelve at the time (and fourteen when John finally arrived in Constantinople in 1231)—this agreement must indeed have been difficult to accept. The agreement would have caused anxiety about when he would be able to accede to the throne. The agreement states that at the age of twenty (in 1237)—clearly considered to be the age of majority, as was common—Baldwin would enter into possession of most of the empire’s territories in Asia Minor, to be held in fief from John. So there was the possibility that Baldwin—in spite of being the rightful heir and his parents and elder brothers having been deceased—would have to wait many years past his majority to obtain his emperorship, and during this time 21

22 23

Mary Angelos was a sister of Helena Angelos, who herself had married tercierus of Euboia Guglielmo i of Verona sometime before 1240. On the Constantinopolitan branch of the Cayeux family in general: Longnon, Les compagnons de Villehardouin, 200. On Anseau ii in 1240: Raymond-Joseph Loenertz, “Les seigneurs tierciers de Négrepont de 1205 à 1280,” Byzantion 35 (1965) n° 1, 268. On Anselin in 1254: Innocentius iv, Les registres, n° 6862, 7178; Alexander iv, Les registres, n° 48; McDaniel, “On Hungarian-Serbian relations in the thirteenth century,” 43–45. On Anselin in 1269: Mazzoleni, Gli atti perduti della cancellaria angioina, 1:n° 740, 121. Longnon, “Les Toucy en Orient et en Italie au XIIIe siècle,” 33–43. Guy Perry, John of Brienne: King of Jerusalem, Emperor of Constantinople, c. 1175–1237 (Cambridge, 2013), 164.

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he would be subordinate to John as his vassal. According to one version of the Old French continuation of William of Tyre’s chronicle, Baldwin was crowned as co-emperor at the time of his wedding to Mary of Brienne (sometime between 1231 and 1236). If correct this information indicates that the terms of the original pact were adjusted, no doubt under pressure from Baldwin and his entourage. Secondly, a major part of the empire’s lands was to go to John’s own heirs, who would hold these in fief from Baldwin. These would have included either all territories in Asia Minor or the lands of the Doukai of Epiros (with the exception of the kingdom of Thessaloniki), as well as that of Didymoteichon, Adrianople, Philippopolis, and the former lands, the Rhodopes mountains with the towns of Melnik and Tsepaina, of imperial vassal and despotes Alexios Sthlabos (Alexios disappears from the sources in the 1220s), and those of the (recalcitrant) imperial vassal Strez in Macedonia († circa 1214), with the exception of the parts held by Ivan ii Asen of Bulgaria. The choice between the eastern or western lands was John’s.24 John’s wife Berengaria of Leon-Castile whom he married in 1224—sister of the king of Castile (1217–1252), Leon (1230–1252), and Galicia (1231–1252) Ferdinand iii—bore him one daughter Mary—married to Baldwin according to the terms of the 1229 agreement—and three sons, Alphonse, Louis, and John.25 The territorial arrangements in the agreement never came to anything because, instead of reconquering lands for the empire, John of Brienne lost territory. After a short and ineffectual campaign in Asia Minor at the outset of his 24

25

The text of the 1229 agreement between John and the Constantinopolitan barons in Tafel and Thomas, Urkunden, 2:n° 273, 266–270. On Baldwin ii crowned as co-emperor at the time of his wedding to Mary of Brienne (to be dated sometime between John of Brienne’s own coronation in 1231 and Baldwin’s departure for the West in late 1236), see Louis de Mas Latrie, ed., Chronique d’Ernoul et de Bernard le trésorier (Paris, 1871), 472: “Quant il ot .i. pou sejorné en Constentinoble, si manda toz les chevaliers de la terre, et fist espouser sa fille au valet qui empereres devoit ester, et le fist porter corone” (“After he had resided for some time in Constantinople, he convoked all the knights of the land, and married his daughter to the young man who was to be emperor, and he had him crowned”). Admittedly the rendition of the 1229 agreement in the continuation is confused: John is incorrectly pictured as regent (not: emperor) for life, and Baldwin’s coronation is incorrectly presented as a stipulation of the agreement. Nevertheless, the chronicler obviously knew of Baldwin having been crowned emperor during John’s lifetime and with the latter’s consent. A coronation—or perhaps only a proclamation—as co-emperor would then seem a logical interpretation of this passage. Baldwin and Mary’s imperial coronation and unction is also mentioned in the verse introduction to the Introductoire: “endui porteroient corone / et en une hore et en un point / sacré seroient et enoint” (“both will be crowned / and at one time and in one place / they will be anointed”)(BnF, fr.1353, f. 4rb (=Appendix 1, v362–364). The passage no doubt refers to Baldwin’s coronation as sole emperor in 1240. On this marriage and offspring: Perry, John of Brienne, 125–131 and 152.

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reign, Constantinople was besieged twice, in 1235 and 1236, by an allied N ­ icaeanBulgarian army. Virtually all remaining land outside Constantinople—both in Thrace and in Asia Minor (including Nicomedia) slipped from the Latin emperor’s control.26 At one point during the 1235–1236 sieges, as the 14th-century Venetian chronicler Andreas Dandolo informs us, John mortgaged the prestigious Crown of Thorns and various other Passion relics (no doubt predominantly to Venetians), being the capital and empire’s religious crown jewels.27 It cannot have sat well with Baldwin to see his father-in-law seemingly squander his inheritance. A number of barons who had opted for John in 1229 were probably having doubts as well.28 One of them may have been Narjot I of Toucy. In January 1234 Gregory ix granted Narjot that no one could excommunicate him or place his lands under interdict without manifest cause. Perry suggests this was possibly Narjot’s reaction to earlier troubles with the by then deceased patriarch Simon of Maugastel (1229–1233), who himself appears to have been close to Emperor John. Perry notes the previous collaboration between Simon, as archbishop of Tyr, and John, as king of Jerusalem. In the 1229 agreement with the Constantinopolitan 26

27

28

On the geopolitical evolution in these years: John S. Langdon, “The forgotten ByzantinoBulgarian assault and siege of Constantinople, 1235–1236, and the breakup of the entente cordiale between John iii Ducas Vatatzes and John Asen ii in 1236 as background to the genesis of the Hohenstaufen Vatatzes alliance of 1242,” Byzantina kai Metabyzantina 4 (1985) 105–135; Perry, John of Brienne, 172–180; Alexandru Madgearu, The Asanids: The Political and Military History of the Second Bulgarian Empire (1185–1280), East Central and Eastern Europe in the Middle Ages 41 (Leiden, 2017), 199–219. Andreas Dandolo, Chronica per extensum descripta, ed. Ester Pastorello, Rerum Italicarum Scriptores, n.s. 12/1 (Bologna, 1958), 295. Dandolo’s information is corroborated by the Flemish chronicler John Iperius. Although Dandolo does not explicitly state to whom the relics were mortgaged, we know from subsequent documents concerning the Crown of Thorns that Venetian representatives and merchants were the main providers of loans. See also Jacoby, “The Venetian Government and Administration in Latin Constantinople,” 72–73. In the 14th century Empress Helena Kantakouzena likewise sold Passion relics to a Florentine merchant (Antje Bosselmann-Ruickbie, “Contact between Byzantium and the West from the 9th to the 15th Century and Their Reflections in Goldsmiths’ Works and Enamels,”) in Falko Daim, Dominik Heher, and Claudia Rapp, eds., Menschen, Bilder, Sprache, Dinge. Wege der Kommunikation zwischen Byzanz und dem Westen. Bd. 1: Bilder und Dinge (Mainz, 2018), 85–86. This in spite of the praises John of Brienne received in several sources for his staunch defence of Constantinople against both John iii Vatatzes of Nicaea and Ivan ii Asen of Bulgaria: Gregorius ix, Les registres, ed. Lucien Auvray, Suzanne Clémencet and Louis Carolus-Barré, Registres des papes du XIIIe siècle (Paris, 1890–1955), n° 2877–2879; Philippe Mouskes, Chronique rimée, 2:614–615. A later source also states that John guarded Baldwin well: Guillaume de Nangis, Chronique latine de 1113 à 1300 avec les continuations de 1300 à 1366, ed. Hercule Géraud (Paris, 1843), 1:187.

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barons, John appointed Simon as his representative with regard to allocating his daughter Mary’s dower. Since we have no knowledge of Narjot infringing on any ecclesiastical or patriarchal rights, the 1234 papal privilege might be related to unidentified earlier tensions between Narjot and the imperial-patriarchal tandem John and Simon.29 Against this background of potential tension and disappointment let us consider a few scraps of information, some of which have escaped the attention of modern historians, in chronological order and how they may be interpreted. At the end of 1236 Baldwin ii, by this time presumably having been appointed co-emperor (which in charters he issued in his western ancestral lands was rendered by the title haeres imperii), departed for the West. This can be deduced from the fact that, as Nikolaos Chrissis remarked, Baldwin in the papal crusade bull Ad subveniendum imperio (8 December 1236) for the first time appears as actively participating in the preparations for the expedition in aid of Constantinople. This was not the case in the similar papal crusade bull Ut Israel veteris issued one year earlier in December 1235. In a papal letter dated a few days later (12 December 1236) Baldwin is depicted as planning to return to his empire with Western aid and that no one was to force him to do anything against his will.30 By March 1237 Baldwin was in his ancestral county of Namur, where he—not without trouble—was invested as marquis and where he issued several charters in favor of local religious institutions.31 Around 19–23 March 1237 John of Brienne died in Constantinople.32 Some time before his death he had entered the Franciscan order, as Wolff has convincingly demonstrated. Late 13th-century Franciscan sources relate how a number of dreams and their predictive interpretation by his confessor, Benedict of Arezzo, provincial of the Franciscans in Romania, persuaded John to assume the mendicant habit.33 Following the news of John’s death, Holy Roman emperor Frederick ii wrote an (undated) letter to the grand master of the Teutonic Order Hermann of Salza stating that he had heard the news (“gravis admodum et molestus rumor”) that his father-in-law (not referred to as emperor, but only as rex Johannes) had died in less than prosperous circumstances (“in statu minus prospero”), that he had been planning to have him brought to his 29 Gregorius ix, Les registres, n° 1746. Tafel and Thomas, Urkunden, 2:n° 273. Perry, John of Brienne, 74, 137, 150, 163–164, 167. 30 The papal bulls and related pieces: Gregorius ix, Les registres, n° 2872–2979, n° 3395– 3397; Chrissis, Crusading in Frankish Greece, 99–105. Perry agrees that Baldwin must have travelled to the West in late 1236 (Perry, John of Brienne, 152). 31 See, for example, De Reiffenberg, Cartulaire de Notre-Dame de Namur, n° 12, 141. 32 Perry, John of Brienne, 182. The author quotes necrologia citing various dates. 33 Wolff, “The Latin Empire of Constantinople and the Franciscans,” 218–220.

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court so that he could provide for him (“ipsius nobiscum habere presentiam ut suo provideremus statui concedenter”), and that he is concerned about the two sons of John residing in Venice (“quos audivimus esse Venetiis”), asking the grand master to bring them to the emperor’s court.34 To my knowledge this information has not yet been used in the context of the Latin empire. Perry knows about the advent of John’s sons to the West only through the French early 14th-century chronicler Guillaume of Nangis, who mentions that John sent Baldwin and his own three sons to the royal court in France.35 Frederick’s contemporary letter suggests that the much later narrative of Nangis does not tell the whole story: apparently only two sons came to the West and for some time stayed in Venice, implying they did not directly go to the royal French court where they eventually would.36 Another—until now also unused—source clarifies how the two Brienne brothers came to stay in Venice. The late 14th-century Flemish chronicler John Iperius, abbot of the Benedictine abbey of Saint Bertin near Saint Omer, compiling various now lost sources, in a chapter entitled Quomodo corona Domini spinea per S. Ludovicum Parisiis est alata has the following to say: Johannes Brennensis dudum rex Jerusalem per Fredericum imperatorem nequiter expulsus postea in imperatorem Constantinopolitanum per papam promotus in possessionibus imperii sui veniens pauca inde recepit emolumenta. Habuit autem de uxore sua filia Castellae regis filios duos Johannem et Ludovicum et cum parum aut nihil haberet unde milites suos stipendiarios sustentare posset magna compulsus egestate duos filios suos pro decem millibus librarum pignori Pisanis obligavit; et post hoc spineam coronam qua dominus noster Jesus Christus a judeis in passione sua fuerat coronatus similiter Pisanis obligavit; quam coronam sanctus Ludovicus rex Franciae consilo matris suae ducenta millia librarum redemit a Pisanis et in Franciam transferre fecit.37 34 35 36

37

Jean-Louis-Alphonse Huillard-Bréholles, ed., Historia Diplomatica Friderici Secundi (Paris, 1852–61), 5/1: 109. Guillaume de Nangis, Chronique latine, 187. Perry, John of Brienne, 152. That at first only two sons came to the West finds confirmation in Jean of Joinville’s report that when Empress Mary of Brienne—travelling from Constantinople to the West in search for financial and military aid—briefly joined king of France Louis ix’s crusade army on Cyprus her brother John was with her (Jean de Joinville, Vie de Saint Louis, ed. Noel J. Corbett (Sherbrooke, 1977), §137–140); Wolff, “Mortgage of an Emperor’s Son,” 77, n. 76. Johannes Yperius, Chronicon Sythiense Sancti Bertini, ed. Edmond Martène and Ursin Durand, Thesaurus novus anecdotorum 3 (Paris, 1717), 720–721 (“John of Brienne, after he had been expelled as king of Jerusalem by emperor Frederick and after he had been promoted

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Although Iperius is clearly wrong on several points (for example the Crown of Thorns was not mortgaged to Pisans, or certainly not exclusively), the core of the account is no doubt true: two of Brienne’s sons (though not John, who stayed in Constantinople until 1248) were mortgaged to raise much needed funds. Frederick’s contemporary letter makes clear they were not mortgaged to Pisan, but rather to Venetian merchants (as later was Baldwin ii’s own son Philip). Iperius’ information explains Frederick ii’s attempted intervention on their behalf. These scraps of partially new information raise a number of questions. One question is why John of Brienne would have joined the Franciscan order at a time when two of his young sons were in a less than satisfactory situation, being totally unprovided for. Brienne’s entry seems indeed completely contrary to the noble or feudal mindset: one of the greatest concerns for any lord or prince was to ensure that one’s children’s future was well provided for (for example by assigning lands or arranging profitable marriages).38 We may also wonder why John would have mortgaged two of his sons before, if we accept Iperius’ chonology, mortgaging the Crown of Thorns and other precious relics which at the time were still in the emperor’s possession. These considerations combined with Frederick’s plan to bring John to his court (which indicates Frederick was of the opinion that John before he died was no longer a reigning prince and that his situation at the time of his death was not in accordance with his status), raises the question whether the mortgage of his sons and his entry into a convent were his own decisions. Perhaps these arrangements might have been made fór him by Baldwin ii and the Constantinopolitan barons, maybe aided by John’s confessor, the Franciscan provincial Benedict of Arezzo, for whom the emperor’s entry into the young Franciscan order would have presented a personal success. They may

38

as emperor of Constantinople by the pope, did not, when he came into possession of his empire, receive much income from it. However by his wife, the daughter of the king of Castile, he had two sons, John and Louis, and since he had little or nothing to pay his mercenary knights he, driven by great necessity, mortgaged his two sons for 200.000 pounds to the Pisans; and after this he similarly mortgaged the Crown of Thorns, which our lord Jesus Christ had been crowned with by the Jews during his Passion, to the Pisans; and this crown Saint Louis, king of France, counseled by his mother, has redeemed from the Pisans by paying 200.000 pounds, and he had it transferred to France”). It is to be noted in this context that none of the lands assigned to John’s children in the 1229 agreement with the Constantinopolitan barons had been conquered by 1236–1237 (see references in Chapter 3, note 24). On providing for one’s children’s future by princes, see, for example: Charlotte A. Newman, The Anglo-Norman Nobility in the Reign of Henry i. The Second Generation (Philadelphia, 1988), 60–72; Judith A. Green, The Aristocracy of Norman England (Cambridge, 1997), 19.

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have pressured Emperor John into mortgaging his two young sons before the Passion relics, whose subsequent mortgage probably further angered Baldwin and his entourage. An involuntary entry into a convent would in Frederick ii’s eyes certainly have counted as a situation not in accordance with John’s royal/ imperial status. After all, in pre-1204 Constantinople unsatisfactory emperors were regularly deposed and forced to enter a monastery and, as we have seen, Baldwin and his entourage were strongly influenced by Byzantine imperial traditions.39 In any case, there is a clear resemblance between the data in Baldwin’s horoscope regarding his personal enemies (relatives, three or four in number, two of them easily removed, a third some time later with more difficulty) and the way his brothers-in-law left the empire (John of Brienne’s sons Alphonse and Louis as young boys around late 1236, mortgaged to Venice, and the younger John in 1248 travelling to the West with his sister Empress Mary). Our texts make no mention of the Brienne family, although there certainly were opportunities to do so. For example, in the versified introduction Baldwin’s wife Mary of Brienne is said to be “estroite des hauz rois d’Espagne.”40 So there is only a reference to her maternal parentage, but not to her paternal ancestry. Of course, in our texts the Iberian connection was the most relevant, given the allusions to the aid provided by Alfonso x of Castile. Nevertheless, a simple reference to John mentioning his Jerusalem connection would have boosted Baldwin’s wife’s standing. Although John was never king of Jerusalem in his own right, he nevertheless—on the basis of the 1223 Ferentino agreement concluded with Frederick ii under papal supervision—probably considered himself to be the rightful king of Jerusalem until the end of his life, in any case until long after the Holy Roman Emperor had taken over his throne and kingdom in 1225.41 The three Brienne brothers after having left Constantinople and settled in France never again are mentioned in relation to the Latin empire. They played no role at all in Baldwin’s various initiatives to gather support for his empire. 39 40 41

On the Byzantine practice of forcing deposed emperors to enter a monastery: Shmuel N. Eisenstadt, The Political Systems of Empires (London, 1963), 54; Jonathan Harris, Constantinople: Capital of Byzantium (London, 2007), 60. BnF, fr.1353, f. 4rb (=Appendix 1, v360, “descended from the exalted kings of Spain”). A 1230 charter mentions John, at the time present in French royal court circles, as still acting with the title of king of Jerusalem. Mary’s brothers Alphonse, Louis, and John in Castilian royal charters (1255–1274) were referred to as sons of the king of Acre. See Wolff, “Mortgage and Redemption of an Emperor’s Son,” 76; Perry, John of Brienne, 136–139, 153, 156; Pierre-Vincent Claverie, Honorius iii et l’Orient. Etude et publication de sources, The Medieval Mediterranean 97 (Leiden, 2013), 106–116. See, recently, Thomas W. Smith, “Between Two Kings: Pope Honorius iii and the Seizure of the Kingdom of Jerusalem by Frederick ii in 1225,” Journal of Medieval History 41 (2015), 41–59.

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In the context of the 1239–1240 crusade to Constantinople this is not surprising: being born around 1224–1230 they were still minors. Perhaps a more telling episode concerns Louis ix’s first crusade in which Alphonse of Brienne, who in the meantime through marriage had become count of Eu, participated. During the army’s stay in Cyprus before the attack on Egypt, Empress Mary of Brienne, then on her way to the West in order to raise money for the empire and administer her husbands western possessions (such as the county of Namur and the lordship of Courtenay), arrived on the island and tried to recruit knights willing to support her husband in Constantinople once Louis’ crusade would be over. John of Joinville’s Vie de Saint Louis, our source for this anecdote, tells us three hundred knights—himself included—were willing to do so if the king of France would give his approval (and financial support). Nothing came of the plan however and break: Join-ville, clearly concerned about a possible stain on his knightly honour, is at pains to explain why. In this context, Alphonse had not been among the potential volunteers for Constantinople. Indeed, Joinville states that he has a letter by Alphonse in his possession testifying to the fact that he at the time of Louis’ departure from the Holy Land in 1254 had unsuccessfully asked the king, in the presence of the count of Eu, to enable him and his comrades to fulfill their promise to the empress. The fact that Joinville mentions Alphonse only as an incidental bystander (who could confirm his account) indicates that the count of Eu had not been one of the volunteers in the potential Constantinopolitan expedition.42 It is a fact that Alphonse and John in 1256 briefly supported their sister Mary’s ultimately unsuccessful struggle to hold on to the county of Namur, but—since King Louis and his brother Charles of Anjou were also involved— their commitment primarily appears to have been related to the king’s ambition to maintain French royal influence in the region and not so much to a desire to support the Constantinopolitan imperial couple, especially Baldwin.43 With regard to an identification of Baldwin’s personal enemies in the horoscope with the Brienne brothers we should also look at how young John of Brienne’s departure from Constantinople in 1248 together with his sister Mary may correspond with the data in our astrological text. As mentioned in the cited passage from the horoscope, Baldwin’s third enemy would only be 42

43

Jean de Joinville, La Vie de Saint Louis, §137–140. On this episode, see also Benjamin Hendrickx, “Marie of Brienne’s visit to Cyprus in the context of her quest for assistance to the Latin Empire of Constantinople,” in Nicholas Coureas and Jonathan Riley-Smith, eds., Cyprus and the Crusades (papers given at the international conference of the same name, 6–9 september 1994) (Nicosia, 1995), 59–68. Wolff, “Mortgage and Redemption of an Emperor’s Son,” 76, n. 77.

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removed after what is called the emperor’s exaltation (“s’en istra confus del exaucement de cel segnor”) and after he had somehow betrayed his sovereign in a life-threatening way (“lequel il cuidoit vendre a autre segnor comme degeté et envenimé”). The horoscope mentions the term exaucement (exaltation) in three instances with regard to Baldwin: first it is said that his son (Philip) signifies son premier exaucement. In a later passage it is said that Baldwin’s exaucement will commence after his wife Mary has left son propre siege—clearly a reference to her departure from Constantinople in 1248—and after the death of “.i. grant home qui est vers Orient,” in my view to be identified with one of the Mongol great khans, either Güyük Khan (†1248) or Möngke Khan (†1259). Yet in another passage it is said that Baldwin would be en exaucement three years after Mary’s return to Constantinople (thus after 1261).44 If Baldwin’s third enemy was the young John of Brienne then the exaucement causing John to leave must have had something to do with Philip of Courtenay, since the other exaucement postdates his departure from Constantinople together with his sister 44

BnF, fr.1353, f. 101ra and f. 102rb (=Appendix 2, §1 (“exaltation”), §4 (“her own seat”), §11 (“a great man who is to the East”). Préaud, “L’horoscope de Baudoin de Courtenay,” 36, 42, and 44. Préaud supposes that the grant home qui est vers Orient must be Nicaean emperor John iii Vatatzes who died in 1254. Two objections however may be raised. First of all the horoscope explictly states that Vatatzes’ dominions are situated to the South (devers midi) and thus not to the East. Secondly, elsewhere the Nicaean emperor is named explictly and without any title as Vataches and his segnorie is considered to have come about par accident, which makes it difficult to identify him with the apparently up to a point respected eastern grant home in the other passage. In a 1247 document issued by then imperial regent Philip of Toucy Vatatzes was named an inimicus Dei et ecclesie Romane, a depiction hard to reconcile with a “great man” (Tisserant, “La légation en Orient du Franciscain Dominique d’Aragon,” 340). The latter in my opinion can best be identified with one of the Mongol great khans who died around or after the time of Mary’s departure, either Güyük Khan (†1248) or Möngke Khan (†1259). Baldwin ii’s empire had suffered greatly from the Mongol incursions in Europe and Asia Minor in 1241–1243, since these fundamentally upset the geopolitical balance in the region in favor of Nicaea (see also note 52). Afterwards Baldwin tried to establish diplomatic contacts with the Mongol empire. See on these contacts and especially on the ultimately negative consequences of the Mongol invasions for the Latin empire, while favoring the geopolitical rise of Nicaea: Van Tricht, De Latijnse Renovatio van Byzantium, 762–772, and recently John Giebfried, “The Mongol Invasions and the Aegean World (1241–1261),” Mediterranean Historical Review 28 (2013), 129–139, who arrives at a similar conclusion. See also Jean Richard, “A propos de la mission de Baudouin de Hainaut: l’empire latin de Constantinople et les Mongols,” Journal des Savants (1992), 115–121; Bernard Hamilton, “The Latin Empire and Western contacts with Asia,” in Nikolaos G. Chrissis and Mike Carr, eds., Contact and Conflict in Frankish Greece and the Aegean, 1204–1453, Crusades–Subsidia 5 (Farnham, 2014), 43–63; Aleksandar Uzelac, “Baldwin of Hainaut and the ‘Nomadic Diplomacy’ of the Latin Empire [in Serbo-Croatian],” Istorijski Casopis 61 (2012), 45–65.

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Mary. As regards the threat against Baldwin’s life: several sources dated to the end of 1243 and the beginning of 1244 mention the emperor as deceased. An undated entry near the end of Philippe Mouskes’ chronicle, grouped together with other entries that can be dated to the latter part of 1243, relates how news of Baldwin’s death—no details or circumstances given—reached his brotherin-law Geoffrey ii of Villehardouin, prince of Achaia, who immediately led a great fleet to the imperial capital in order to assume the regency in the name of his wife’s underage nephew Philip.45 Two letters of Innocent iv’s dated 23 April 1244, confirmations of Baldwin’s grants of the kingdom of Thessaloniki and the principality of Prilep to Helena Angelos and her husband Guglielmo i of Verona, tercierus of Euboia, also mention Baldwin—and Guglielmo as well—as being deceased.46 The papal chancery was clearly somewhat lagging behind the latest available information: Baldwin had been present at a peace conference attended by the pope and representatives of Holy Roman emperor Frederick ii which took place in Rome on March 31.47 Nevertheless, in early 1244 the papal court had evidently been under the impression that Baldwin had died. Papal correspondence dated mid-September 1243 still mentions him as being alive and a letter by Baldwin himself to the French queen-mother Blanche of Castile is dated August 5.48 This indicates that the rumor of Baldwin’s death must have originated somewhere in the second half of 1243. The question of context then remains.49 The fact that Guglielmo i of Verona appears to have “died” at the same time as Baldwin, indicates that some military expedition may be the basis. In modern historiography no minor or major engagement is known for the year, but an overlooked passage in the Old French chronicle by the Venetian Martin da Canal, written in the years 1267–1275, may provide an answer. Da Canal after having related a siege of Constantinople in 1235—clearly to be identified with the Nicaean-Bulgarian assault in 1235–1236—states that un poi après and after 45 46 47

Philippe Mouskes, Chronique rimée, 2:697. Loenertz, “Les seigneurs tierciers de Négrepont,” n° 1–2, 268–269. A papal letter to Henry iv Raspe, landgrave of Thuringia, dated 29 April 1244, attests Baldwin’s presence there (Carl Rodenberg, ed., Epistolae Saeculi xiii e Regestis Pontificum Romanorum Selectae (ex Innocentii iv registro), Monumenta Germaniae Historica (Berlin, 1887), 2:n° 63, 46). On this peace conference: Abulafia, Frederick ii. A Medieval Emperor, 359–360. 48 Innocentius iv, Les registres, n° 122–123. Duchesne, Historiae Francorum Scriptores, 5:424. 49 Giebfried places Baldwin’s “death” in 1242 in the context of his confrontation with a Mongol army in Thrace that same year (see also note 52). This is however a chronological impossibility in view of the testimony provided by Innocent iv’s letters concerning Baldwin in September 1243–April 1244, which Giebfried does not take into consideration (­Giebfried, “The Mongol Invasions and the Aegean World,” 132).

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li trives between Vatas and ciaus de Costantinople had ended, the Nicaean emperor undertook a new full-scale attempt to take the city with land and naval forces. The Venetian podestà Giovanni Michiel, however, defeated the Nicaean fleet and in this way, at least according to our Venetian chronicler, the city was saved.50 The truce referred to is probably to be identified with the two-year truce starting on 24 June 1241, which is mentioned by the contemporary Cistercian chronicler from Champagne, Aubry of Trois-Fontaines, who is generally well-informed on matters regarding Latin Romania. No alternative identification for the truce appears to be available.51 It would then seem the best solution to situate Vatatzes’ new offensive against Constantinople sometime after 24 June 1243, with the Nicaean emperor presumably trying to profit from the defeat Baldwin suffered against the Mongols one year earlier.52 Vatatzes’ expedition in 1243 may provide a context within which the account found in the sources (Baldwin’s horoscope, Mouskes’ chronicle, and Innocent’s letters)—the emperor having died or having been poisoned or having been the subject of a plot to deliver him (and the city) to a rival ruler—may 50 51 52

Martin da Canal, Les Estoires de Venise. Cronaca veneziana in lingua francese dalle origini al 1275, ed. Alberto Limentani, Civiltà Veneziana–Fonti e Testi 12 (Florence, 1973), pt. 1, §85–86. Albericus Trium Fontium, Chronica, ed. Paul Scheffer-Boichorst, mgh SS 23 (Hannover, 1874), 949. The single source available informing us of Baldwin’s personal confrontation with the Mongols: Wilhelm Wattenbach, ed., Annales Mellicenses. Continuatio Sancrucensis, mgh SS 9 (Hannover, 1851), 641. See also references to secondary literature in Chapter 3, note 44. Later Venetian sources—the unpublished so-called Cronaca di Marco from around 1292–1304 and Andreas Dandolo’s early 14th-century Chronica per extensum descripta— date Vatatzes’ campaign and Michiel’s exploit respectively to the year 1241 and the 13th year of doge Giacomo Tiepolo’s reign (6 March 1241–6 March 1242), but it would seem that they confound a small Nicaean counter-campaign against some Latin fortresses in Opsikion designed to check Baldwin’s reconquest of eastern Thrace (see Georgios Akropolites, Historia, §37) with Vatatzes’ later large-scale attempt against Constantinople. In any case, the year 1241 is incompatible with Da Canal’s statement that Vatatzes’ new offensive commenced after li trives had ended, since 1241 was precisely the year during which the truce was concluded (Cronaca di Marco, in Biblioteca Nazionale Marciana, Cod. Marc. It., Cl. xi, n° 124 (6802), f°46r°; Andreas Dandolo, Chronica per extensum descripta, ed. Ester Pastorello, Rerum Italicarum Scriptores, n.s. 12/1 (Bologna, 1958), 298). Michiel being still in office in 1243 is not incompatible with Jacoby’s catalogue of Constantinopolitan podestàs. It is true that he then would have served longer than the (more or less) official two-year-term, but he would not have been alone in this respect (Jacoby, “The Venetian Government and Administration in Latin Constantinople,” 73–75). That the Byzantine chronicler Akropolites does not mention Vatatzes’ 1243 offensive against Constantinople is not problematic: see Macrides’ comments on Akropolites’ reticence with regard to Vatatzes’ military failures (Georgios Akropolites, The History, trans. Macrides, 89 and 100).

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have originated. What happened exactly is of course impossible to reconstruct, but an episode, for example, may be imagined with Baldwin going missing during some kind of counterattack (possibly together with tercierus Guglielmo i of Verona) or with Baldwin’s health suddenly failing him—possibly while staying somewhere outside the capital—fuelling suspicions of poisoning and betrayal. Whatever the context, the idea of the young emperor dying, or possibly having died, must have opened a succession debate. His son Philip was only two or three years old at the time and for some barons another extended minority succession may have been a less than enticing prospect.53 The younger John of Brienne (who by 1243 must have been near 18 years of age) or his entourage—presumably former collaborators-confidents of his father such as Peter of Altomanno or, as Perry has suggested, barons belonging to families from the Brienne’s native Champagne—may have voiced his closeness to the throne as son of his father-emperor John.54 It would indeed have been quite natural in such a situation for an emperor’s son approaching adulthood to have aspired to succeed, to the detriment of his infant nephew. This might explain why Geoffrey ii of Villehardouin came to Constantinople to protect the rights of his wife’s nephew (and naturally also these of his wife in the event the infant did not survive): other barons—like the Cayeux or the Toucy who may have been worried about losing their preponderant position and who were related to the Villehardouin’s, or Empress Mary herself out of concern for her little son’s future—may have invited him not only to counter military challenges, but also to oppose John’s potential imperial ambitions.55 When Baldwin after all turned out not to have died, this must have been a moment of frustration for the younger John and may have compromised his 53 54

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Mouskes states that Philip was moult petit (Philippe Mouskes, Chronique rimée, 2:697). See also Chapter 2, note 13. On Peter of Altomanno and on John favoring Champenois at his court: Perry, John of Brienne, 140, 143, 154–156, and 163–164. The specific Champenois the author cites, both Geoffrey of Merry and Vilain of Aulnay, were already major Constantinopolitan barons before John’s accession (Merry in 1219 was one of six barons named as witnesses to imperial regent Cono i of Béthune’s confirmation of the constitutional pacts of 1204–1205: Tafel and Thomas, Urkunden, 2: n° 256; Aulnay in 1228/29 was one of three Constantinopolitan barons designated to negotiate the terms of the succession agreement with emperor-tobe John of Brienne: ibid., n° 273). Champenois had always been an important element of the imperial elite from the start of Latin rule in 1204, with for example imperial marshal Geoffrey of Villehardouin and imperial cupbearer Milo le Bréban (Longnon, Les compagnons de Villehardouin, 26–27, 49–51). On the Toucy-Villehardouin connection, see Albericus Trium Fontium, Chronica, 939, who mentions the marriage (in the 1230s it would seem) of a daughter of kaisar Narjot i of Toucy with William ii of Villehardouin, the later prince of Achaia.

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position and future in Latin Romania. It is telling that the younger John of ­Brienne, despite being the empress’ brother, is mentioned not one single time in any of the available narrative or diplomatic sources in the context of the Latin empire, although by the time he left in 1248 he must have been a young adult in his early twenties. At that age—to name but one example—Henry of Flanders/Hainaut was already established as a local lord and as a well-respected baron already having assumed military and other responsibilities at the court of his brother count Baldwin ix/vi of Flanders and Hainaut.56 If as Robert Wolff hypothesized, the 24,000 hyperpera loan which Baldwin ii obtained from Venetian merchants—which was the cause for Mary to leave Constantinople as is apparent from an October 1248 charter by the Latin emperor, whereby he authorizes his wife to sell or engage his western lands in order to repay the loan—is identical to the loan for which Baldwin mortgaged his son Philip, then it may perhaps be suggested that it was in this context that the younger John of Brienne was forced to leave the Queen of Cities. With his mortgaged little son residing in Venice it must have seemed to Baldwin risky to allow John to stay on in Constantinople: in the event of the emperor’s death—always a real possibility—John might (again?) try to seize the throne, more so in view of the dire geopolitical circumstances. In this context it should be remembered that our astrological treatise clearly reflects Baldwin’s concerns about Philip’s chances to succeed him.57 If, on the other hand, Philip’s mortgage would have taken place later than 1248—as Benjamin Hendrickx has indecisively argued—then John’s departure with his sister may have been caused by personal frustration, with Baldwin presumably unwilling to grant a former emperor’s son a prominent status or lands (out of his own diminishing domains or through a favorable marriage alliance with one of the still prospering barons in southern Greece).58 Whether or not due to relations between John of Brienne (and his sons) and Baldwin ii, the emperor’s horoscope in any case shows that internal divisions plagued the metropolitan elite. These divisions would appear to have been limited to dynastic rivalry, but there may have been more to it than that. In fact, internal divisions within the imperial elite were nothing new: these 56 57

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Van Tricht, “De jongelingenjaren van een keizer van Konstantinopel,” 198–201. On the 1248 date for the 24,000 hyperpera loan: Wolff, “Mortgage and Redemption of an Emperor’s Son,” 52–54. Baldwin ii probably contracted the substantial loan in the context of the 1248 campaign in the region around Constantinople after the emperor’s return of his second western voyage (1244–1247/48) (see on this campaign Chapters 2 and 4). Hendrickx, “Regestes des empereurs latins de Constantinople,” n° 261, 161–165; followed by Gilles, Nova Francia, 285–286.

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had been in place since the early 1220s with one group around the emperor ­favoring ­balanced Latin-Byzantine cooperation and power-sharing, and the other group distrusting this political option.59 The question can be asked whether the opposition between these groups may not also have been a factor in the (hypothetical) power struggle between Baldwin ii and his father-in-law and his sons (and their entourage). That Baldwin was pro-Latin-Byzantine cooperation is clear from Byzantines being among his close collaborators, for which he was criticized by the French royal court in the person of queen-mother Blanche of Castile, but also by his interest in Byzantine imperial ideology and culture in general.60 But for his father-in-law John of Brienne—the sole Latin emperor for whom this is the case—there appears to be not a single piece of information linking him to the Byzantine context within which he operated (no Byzantine collaborators, no adoption of any Byzantine institutions or traditions).61 This may indicate that with him the Western faction among the metropolitan barons temporarily gained control over imperial affairs. With Baldwin ii then—as heir of both his uncle Henry and his brother Robert, during whose reigns the Byzantine element was most prominent at the imperial court—the other faction, including the Toucy and the Cayeux, would have taken over again.62 The Western faction then may have gradually rallied behind the younger John of Brienne as a possible claimant to the throne, especially by the time he was nearing adulthood. These internal divisions within the imperial court elite, whatever their precise nature and to which our astrological corpus testifies, cannot have been helpful to Baldwin ii’s efforts to restore his ailing empire. On the contrary, in a geopolitical situation gradually growing worse internal unity and harmony were evidently of the essence. Baldwin’s horoscope, however, also points to further conflict and tension within the empire’s political fabric. With regard to the emperor’s offspring our author states that “cil sires aura uncore .i. autre fil qui sera contraires a touz mercheanz por la hautesce de son lignage et s’esforcera dels hors bouter que il ne habitent o lui en une cité. Il edefiera 59 60 61 62

Van Tricht, The Latin Renovatio of Byzantium, 296–304. Idem, “Robert of Courtenay,” 1033–1034. For the relevant correspondence with Blanche of Castile, see reference in Chapter 2, note 32. See Longnon, L’empire latin de Constantinople, 171–176; Perry, John of Brienne, 157–188. On the Byzantine influences under Henry and Robert: Filip Van Tricht, “‘La Gloire de l’Empire.’ L’idée impériale de Henri de Flandre-Hainaut, deuxième empereur latin de Constantinople (1206–1216),” Byzantion 70 (2000) 211–241. Idem, “Robert of Courtenay,” 1028–1031.

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c­ hasteaus ou il habitera et ne mie citez, et sera touz tems appareilliez a proie et sera malls et destruieres de ses anemis.”63 This second son of Baldwin is to my knowledge only mentioned in this source, together with two daughters who likewise go unmentioned in existing historiography.64 Whether or not this second son was indeed born to the emperor and whether or not he took the political stand described is irrelevant to the matter at hand.65 The point is that this passage shows a marked and vivid animosity vis-à-vis merchants, which of course are to be identified with the Venetians in Constantinople. Our text uses the same term mercheanz to describe the persons to whom Baldwin mortgaged his son Philip. Through other sources we know these to have been Venetian merchants.66 63

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BnF, fr.1353, f. 101va (=Appendix 2, §5, “this lord will have another son, who will oppose all merchants because of the exaltedness of his lineage and who will strive to expell them so that they do not live with him in one city. He will build castles where he will live and no cities, and he will always be prepared for plundering and he will be a mean destroyer of his enemies”). The passage with regard to these two daughters reads as follows: “après le fil devoit avoir cil grant sires prochienement une fille laquele ne devoit mie vivre longuement por la Coe del Dracon qui estoit en cele meesmes .v.te meson; et uncore en aura une autre por le Soloil cheant en la Livre et cele fille vivra” (“after the son this great lord must next have a girl that will not live a long time because of the Tail of the Dragon which is situated in this same fifth house; and he will yet have another one because of the Sun descending in Libra and this girl will live”—see reference in previous note). Whether his second son and two daughters—assuming that our author’s prediction describes a historic reality—were all conceived with his wife Mary remains unclear. Since they were only together in the years 1231–1236 (the exact date of the marriage is unknown, see Chapter 3, note 24), 1240–1243 and again around 1247/1248 as an adult married couple we should certainly consider the possibility of bastard children. Baldwin’s daughter that survived may be identified with the Catherina mentioned twice as a daughter of Baldwin ii of Constantinople in the Sicilian royal registers (around 1267–1278). Nothing further seems to be known about her and it can perhaps not be entirely excluded that the mentioned Catherina is in fact Philip of Courtenay’s eponymous daughter and later titular Latin empress (1283–1307), who then somehow was wrongly presented as Baldwin’s daughter in the register in question (Mazzoleni, Gli atti perduti della cancellaria angioina, 1:n° 5, 6 and n° 65, 11). That Baldwin would have had more than a single son would seem to be confirmed by the fact that Philip of Courtenay called himself his father’s primogenitus in a 1269 charter: if he did not have a brother this mention would have been superfluous (Jean Du Bouchet, Histoire généalogique de la maison royale de Courtenay–Preuves (Paris, 1661), 21). The fact that this autre fil was Baldwin’s second son and that his brother Philip was probably born in around October 1242 (see Chapter 2, note 12) makes it rather improbable that the cited passage (probably written around 1260) would describe actual events: at the time of composition this second son could only have been seventeen or eighteen years of age at most. BnF, fr.1353, f. 4rb (=Appendix 1, v385). On these Venetian merchants: Wolff, “Mortgage and Redemption of an Emperor’s Son,” 46–52.

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Venice had acquired a large stake in the empire at the time of the Latin conquest in 1204. The constitutional treaties of March 1204 and October 1205 had among other conditions awarded 3/8 of the empire’s territories (to be held as fiefs from the emperor) along with the patriarchal throne to the Serenissima. They had also granted the Venetian podestà in Constantinople and his councillors a permanent seat on the imperial “mixed council,” and allocated extensive commercial privileges. Although much of this remained theoretical or would never be fully implemented, nevertheless Venice managed to acquire an important position within the empire’s political (and economical) fabric. By the time of Baldwin ii’s accession, Venice’s most important possessions and dependencies included three eights of Constantinople, the island of Crete, the island of Euboia (with its capital Negropont), and the coastal towns of Modon and Koron in the Peloponnese.67 From the outset in 1204 there were regular quarrels between the emperor and Venice regarding their respective territorial, ecclesiastical, and other rights, with other feudal princes sometimes being involved as well.68 Such tension and disagreement between major powers/partners within a feudally organized empire are of course nothing exceptional, are indeed to be expected, and evidently before 1204 the privileged Venetian position within the Byzantine empire already regularly led to serious conflict and dramatic incidents.69 But the cited passage indicates that Venetian-imperial 67

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On the Venetian position in the Latin empire, see various contributions by David Jacoby, who in my view for the period 1204–1261 generally tends to overestimate Venice’s role and influence by stressing theoretical rights too much and by looking too little at actual political realities: David Jacoby, “The Venetian Presence in the Latin Empire of Constantinople (1204–1261): the Challenge of Feudalism and the Byzantine Inheritance,” Jahrbuch der ­Österreichischen Byzantinistik 43 (1993) 141–201; idem, “The Venetian Government and Administration in Latin Constantinople,” 19–79; idem, “La consolidation de la domination de Venise dans la ville de Négrepont (1205–1390),” in Chrysa A. Maltezou and Peter Schreiner, eds., Bisanzio, Venezia e il mondo franco-greco (xiii–xv secolo) (Venice, 2002), 151–187. Interestingly, before 1204 the patriarchal throne of Constantinople had already once been occupied by a patriarch of Venetian descent, Dositheos (1189–1191) (Alicia Simpson, “Perceptions and Interpretations of the Late Twelfth Century in Modern Historiography,” in Alicia Simpson, ed., Byzantium, 1180–1204: “The Sad Quarter of the Century”?, International Symposium 22 (Athens, 2015), 16. On imperial-Venetian tension and conflict in the period 1204–1228 (for example with regard to their respective rights in the capital Constantinople, the kingdom of Thessaloniki, the principality of Adrianople, the ducatus of Philippopolis, the principality of Achaia, the principality of Epiros, etc.): Van Tricht, The Latin Renovatio of Byzantium, 215–219; idem, “Robert of Courtenay,” 1030–1031; idem, “The Byzantino-Latin Principality of Adrianople and the Challenge of Feudalism,” 326–331. For John of Brienne’s difficult relation with Venice: Perry, John of Brienne, 165–166. On dissension in the Latin empire, see, for example: Van Tricht, The Latin Renovatio of Byzantium, 210–214; Thomas F. Madden, “The Latin Empire of Constantinople’s

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dissension transcended the level of rival interests of a purely political nature (conflicting territorial or feudal claims, disputes about privileges, etc.). The son’s opposition (sera contraires) to the Venetians—the mercheanz (who had managed to gain control over his mortgaged elder brother)—is explained in terms of social class: he opposes them by reason of the hautesce de son lignage. Put otherwise, the position that the Venetians had acquired within the empire was in conflict with their social inferiority, and therefore ousting them from cities—an action our author advocates—was perfectly legitimate and advisable. Imperial-Venetian discord in the Latin empire thus needs not only to be seen in terms of conflicting politics or competing authorities, but also in terms of conflict between social classes: a feudal hereditary and landed nobility with the imperial household at the top—including not only Latin barons, but also Byzantine magnates—versus the Venetian aristocratic families whose fortunes were built on successful commercial entrepreneurship.70 This fits in well with Baldwin ii not confirming the constitutional treaties from 1204–1205 vis-à-vis Venice. Other authors have also noted this social difference: Elisabeth Crouzet-Pavan has pointed out that generally contemporary Western (non-Venetian) sources describe le Vénitien only “comme un coureur de mers et un marchand,” and Stefan Burkhardt refers to the Mentalitätsunterschied between italienischen Kaufleuten and frankolombardischen Rittern.71 As mere merchants or sailors none of the qualities conventionally attributed to the feudal aristocracy (such as military bravery, vigorous action, or wise counseling) were awarded to Venetians by Western chroniclers, although there were exceptions and by the mid-13th century Venetian well-to-do families—notably some who had acquired lordships and fiefs in Latin Romania—were striving

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Fractured Foundation: The Rift between Boniface of Montferrat and Baldwin of Flanders,” in Thomas F. Madden, ed., The Fourth Crusade: Event, Aftermath, and Perceptions. Papers from the Sixth Conference of the Society for the Study of the Crusades and the Latin East, Istanbul, Turkey, 25–29 August 2004, Crusades–Subsidia 2 (Aldershot, 2008), 45–52. On Venetian-Byzantine conflict before 1204: Ralph-Johannes Lilie, Handel und Politik zwischen dem byzantinischen Reich und den italienischen Kommunen Venedig, Pisa und Genua in der Epoche der Komnenen und der Angeloi (1081–1204) (Amsterdam, 1984), passim; Donald M. Nicol, Byzantium and Venice. A study in diplomatic and cultural relations (Cambridge, 1988), passim. On the similarities of values between the Western and Byzantine aristocracy in this period: Savvas Kyriakidis, Warfare in Late Byzantium 1204–1453, History of Warfare 67 (Leiden, 2011), 45–58. Elisabeth Crouzet-Pavan, “Quand le doge part à la croisade …,” in Jacques Paviot and Jacques Verger, eds., Guerre, pouvoir et noblesse au Moyen Âge. Mélanges en l’honneur de Philippe Contamine (Paris, 2000), 174. Burkhardt, Mediterranes Kaisertum und imperialen Ordnungen, 374.

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to ­appropriate aspects of the feudal landed nobility’s way of life. Interesting to note is that commerce and merchants were likewise generally looked down upon by Byzantine aristocrats, though this did prevent some to invest in commercial activities (such as for example Emperor Henry’s megas doux Philokales, who was connected to the Venetian Navigaioso family).72 There is evidence that this class-based disdain of Venice and the accompanying fundamental discontent concerning the Venetian position in the empire date back to the early years of the Latin empire. Henry of Valenciennes, who wrote a chronicle on Henry of Flanders/Hainaut’s reign for the years 1208–1209, mentions Venice or Venetians not one single time, although he certainly had opportunities to do so, for example in the context of naval military operations or of the emperor visiting towns and regions theoretically belonging to the Venetian three eights of the empire (including Adrianople, Euboia, Epiros, and the Peloponnese).73 This is remarkable in view of the preeminent position the 72

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One such exception—especially relevant for our topic—is Geoffrey of Villehardouin who for example presents Doge Enrico Dandolo as sages et preuz et viguereus (Geoffroy de Villehardouin, La conquête de Constantinople, ed. Edmond Faral, Les classiques de l’histoire de France au moyen âge 18–19 (Paris, 1961), §364; see also Jean Dufournet, “Villehardouin et les Vénitiens,” L’information litteraire pour l’enseignement 21 (1969) 8–9), though this may be directly related to the chronicler’s clear intention of representing the Constantinople campaign as a legitimate diversion of the crusade (and one for which he himself was partly responsible): the Venetians playing a role impossible to neglect, one had no choice but to present them in a positive light to the Western feudal audience at whom the text was aimed. On Villehardouin’s intentions for writing his chronicle, see Phillips, The Fourth Crusade, 48–49. One Venetian lineage that effectively gained entry into the imperial aristocracy is the branch of the Sanudo family that acquired the ducatus of Naxos as fief: Angelo Sanudo married a daughter of the Champenois Constantinopolitan baron Macaire of Sainte-Mènehould (the wedding taking place during Baldwin ii’s reign in the imperial palace in the capital) and Baldwin ii knighted his son Marco ii following the fall of Constantinople in 1261 (Marino Sanudo Torsello, Istoria del Regno di Romania, ed. Carl Hopf, Chroniques Gréco-Romanes inédites ou peu connues publiées avec notes et tables généalogiques (Paris, 1873), 115). On the Byzantine aristocracy’s view of merchants, see: Maria Gerolymatou, “L’aristocratie et le commerce (IXe-XIIe siècles),” Byzantina Symmeikta 15 (2002), 77–89; Gerasimos Merianos, “Literary Allusions to Trade and Merchants: The ‘Great Merchant’ in Late Twelfth-Century Byzantium,” in Alicia Simpson, ed., Byzantium, 1180–1204: “The Sad Quarter of the Century”?, International Sympsoium 22 (Athens, 2015), 224, 238–239. On Philokales, see reference in Chapter 6, note 33. For example, when Emperor Henry with his army crosses the Bosphorus from Constantinople to Asia minor in order to assist his vassal David Komnenos, ruler of Paphlagonia (Henri de Valenciennes, Histoire de l’empereur Henri de Constantinople, ed. Jean Longnon, Documents relatifs à l’histoire des croisades 2 (Paris, 1948), §552); in similar contexts Villehardouin explicitly mentions that Venetian and Pisan ships were used (Geoffroy de Villehardouin, La conquête de Constantinople, §468). Another example is Emperor Henry’s stop at Raidestos, a coastal town in eastern Thrace belonging to Venice, on his journey to

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basic treaties of 1204–1205 had awarded to Venice. Other big players are duly mentioned by the chronicler, for example the emperor’s loyal vassals Geoffrey i of Villehardouin, prince of Achaia, Otho i of La Roche, lord of Athens, Alexios Sthlabos, ruler of the Rhodopes region, David Komnenos, ruler of Paphlagonia, but also the rebel barons of Thessaloniki and the troublesome Michael Doukas, ruler of Epiros.74 Just as our astrological author, Valenciennes, who belonged to Emperor Henry’s immediate entourage, appears to have borne an animosity against the Venetians, banning them from his chronicle. His aim was to glorify Henry’s imperial rule and any mention of the lagoon merchant city clearly did not fit this scheme. The prominent position of these merchants within the empire was probably considered to be an embarrassment to Henry’s imperial authority. More personal factors no doubt also played a role: the Venetian patriarch Thomas Morosini had forced Henry to cede the precious Virgin Hodegetria icon to him at the time of his coronation (August 1206) and podestà Marino Zeno—and others after him—appear to have been keen on appropriating certain imperial privileges.75 Again, this class-based attitude toward Venice and the unwillingness to ­regard most Venetians as social equals cannot have furthered the empire’s internal strength, especially when it was most needed during the decades after

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Thessaloniki: Valenciennes keeps quiet about the link with the Serenissima (Henri de Valenciennes, La conquête de Constantinople , §563); again Villehardouin in similar contexts does not fail to mention the Venetian connection (Geoffroy de Villehardouin, La conquête de Constantinople , §386, §415). See on Villehardouin’s attitude toward Venice: Dufournet, “Villehardouin et les Vénitiens,” 7–19. Henri de Valenciennes, La conquête de Constantinople, §545–549, §551–553, §667–672, §688–694. On the Hodegetria incident: see reference in Chapter 2, note 48. On Zeno subscribing with the imperial menologema to the constitutional pact of October 1205, together with regent Henry: Tafel and Thomas, Urkunden, 1:n° 160, 574. It should be noted however that at this time Henry was not yet emperor. Podestà Tiepolo’s imperial type of charter (a chrysoboullos logos) from March 1220 also subscribed with the menologema—a commercial pact with the sultan of Konya—occurred likewise at a time when there was no reigning Latin emperor in Constantinople (ibid., 2:n° 258, 221–225)—this is probably no coincidence. The 16th-century Venetian chronicle by Pietro Giustiniano relates that Marino Zeno also wore one red kampagion, a type of footwear which was reserved for the emperors. It is however doubtful that there’s any historical truth to this latter statement: Giustiniani’s chronicle belongs to a time when the idea of the Serenissima as the true heir of the Byzantine emperors had been firmly established in Venetian political ideology (see Serban Marin, “The Venetian Community—between Civitas and Imperium. A project of the capital’s transfer from Venice to Constantinople according to Daniele Barbaro’s Chronicle,” European Review of History 10 (2003) 81–102; Devereaux, Constantinople and the West, 173). The kampagion-passage fits this context rather well. See also Jacoby, “The Venetian P ­ resence,” 148–149.

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major territorial losses of the 1220s (the kingdom of Thessaloniki, the larger part of northern Asia Minor). Of course, at times there certainly was a measure of cooperation between the Latin emperors and Venice, but this mostly appears to have been the case in the context of urgent crises. For example, in the 1230s Venetian naval power several times aided in relieving Constantinople from successive sieges by John iii Vatatzes and his sometime ally tsar Ivan ii Asen of Bulgaria.76 But in these situations the Serenissima surely was serving her own interests, which happened to coincide temporarily with those of the Latin emperor. These passing moments of joined interests in times of crisis aside, the negative attitude must have been an important element preventing a sustained and constructive political working relationship between the Latin emperors and Venice. It is indeed striking that the Serenissima did not figure significantly in any of Baldwin ii’s attempts to restore the empire to its former glory.77 Inversely, no mention is made of the Latin emperor in Venice’s proposal (circa 1260) to the rulers and barons of southern Greece to station and finance a permanent 1,000 man garrison in Constantinople, which may perhaps be seen as an attempt to respond to existing baronial sensitivities (see William of Autremencourt).78 More gravely, the emperor and Venice also entered into open conflict with each other, albeit by proxy. Sometime between 1248 and 1255, as we have seen, Baldwin ii made William ii of Villehardouin feudal overlord for life of the tercieri of Euboia (and of the duchy of Naxos, and probably of the duchy of Athens and the marquisate of Bodonitza as well), on the one hand to reward a powerful and loyal vassal, but 76 Langdon, John iii Ducas Vatatzes’ Byzantine Empire in Anatolian Exile, 198–238. 77 Venice played only a marginal role in Baldwin ii’s crusade in the years 1238–1240. The imperial heir preferred to lead his main army overland to Constantinople through Hungary and Bulgaria; Emperor Frederick ii’s obstruction (since he was at the time allied with Nicaea) of an advance guard of crusaders under John of Béthune, one of the Latin emperor’s trusted barons, bound for Constantinople planning to sail from Venice no doubt played some part in Baldwin’s decision (Michael Lower, The Barons’ Crusade. A Call to Arms and Its Consequences (Philadelphia, 2005), 150–157; Chrissis, Crusading in Frankish Greece, 99– 133). With regard to Baldwin’s alliance with the sultanate of Konya in 1243, no mention is made of Venice (Duchesne, Historiae Francorum Scriptores, 5:424). In Baldwin’s 1245–1246 project with the Military Order of Santiago again no mention was made of Venice (Benito Ruano, “Balduino ii de Constantinople y la Orden de Santiago,” 3–36; Jean Longnon, “L’empereur Baudouin ii et l’ordre de Saint-Jacques,” Byzantion 22 (1952) 297–299). Venice does not seem to have played a role in Baldwin’s diplomatic contacts with the Mongols either (see references in Chapter 3, note 44). The Serenissima also played no role in the 1258–1259 Pelagonia coalition (see Chapter 4, p. 82–85). 78 Walter Norden, Das Papsttum und Byzanz. Die Trennung der beiden Mächte und das Problem ihrer Wiedervereinigung bis zum Untergange des byzantinischen Reiches (1453) (Berlin, 1903), n° 13, 759.

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on the other to assure political unity of Latin Greece during a time when imperial authority was weak (territorially, militarily, and financially). In doing so he completely disregarded the 1204 partition treaty: this document had awarded the island to Venice and various actions had since then been undertaken to effectively secure the Serenissma’s rights. Baldwin presumably never confirmed the constitutional pacts of 1204–1205 as his predecessors had done. He probably did not consider himself necessarily bound to them, a position related not only to the influence of Byzantine imperial ideology, but also to the class-based attitude toward Venice. Then in 1255, in the context of a succession dispute, the tercieri Guglielmo ii of Verona and Narzotto dalle Carceri refused to recognize William’s competence in the matter and asked the Serenissima to support them. Two years of fighting—involving also the duke of Athens and the marquis of Bodonitza—followed and ended with the battle of Karydi in 1258, a decisive military victory for Villehardouin.79 Although in this the imperial view of southern Latin Romania prevailed, energy and resources had in the meantime been wasted on internal strife rather than on improving the empire’s insecure geopolitical position in the Byzantine space. 79

See references in Chapter 2, note 53.

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Attempts at Geopolitical Restauration Apart from aspects of the empire’s internal politics (imperial ideology, divisions within the Constantinopolitan court elite, problematic imperial-­Venetian relations) our astrological corpus also contains information regarding Baldwin ii’s foreign politics, especially on relations with the Castilian court. The established view on the Latin empire’s geopolitical position within the Byzantine region (Balkan, Aegean, Asia Minor) under Baldwin ii is that Constantinople and its dependencies were waiting to fall into the hands of the Nicaean emperor comme un fruit mûr, as Jean Longnon has so eloquently put it: a passive existence with an inevitable outcome.1 This, however, negates the fact that on the diplomatic level the emperor and his entourage in the 1240s and 1250s continued developing one project after another with a range of international partners with the aim at maintaining and ultimately restoring his empire: the 1237–1240 crusade (with papal support), the alliance with Konya in the early 1240s, the Cuman alliance in the 1240s, the diplomatic relations with the Mongols in the 1240s and 1250s (which appear to have inaugurated a “Black Sea policy,” as John Giebfried has suggested, although this presumably was predominantly a Venetian attempt to dominate trade in the region), the ­project involving the Order of Santiago in 1245–1246 (again with papal support), the 1248 campaign in the Constantinopolitan region, the re-establishment of a more active imperial policy vis-à-vis the Latin Orient (Cyprus and SyriaPalestine) in the context of the Seventh Crusade (1248–1254), a possible marriage alliance with Trebizond in the 1250s (with the French king Louis ix mediating), and the “grand alliance” between Achaia, Epiros, Sicily, and Constantinople in 1257/58–1259.2 This ­dynamic diplomacy—although not always 1 Longnon, L’empire latin de Constantinople, 186. See also David Jacoby, “The Latin Empire of Constantinople and the Frankish States in Greece,” in David Abulafia, ed., The New Cambridge Medieval History: c. 1198–c. 1300, vol. 5 (Cambridge, 1999), 530. Burkhardt, Mediterranes Kaisertum und imperialen Ordnungen, 331–332. 2 See the references in Chapter 3, note 77. There were of course diplomatic relations with other powers as well, for example the royal courts of France, England, and Hungary. On the Black Sea region: John Giebfried, “Crusader Constantinople as a Gateway to the Mongol World,” in Proceedings of the The Third International Symposium on Crusade Studies held at Saint Louis University from 28 February–1 March 2014 (forthcoming 2018). On the Cuman alliance, see Francesco Dall’Aglio, “The Military Alliance between the Cumans and Bulgaria from the Establishment of the Second Bulgarian Kingdom to the Mongol Invasion,” Archivum Eurasiae Medii Aevi 16 (2008–2009), 52–53. The author commits a number of inaccuracies, for example

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successful—corresponds with one of the six elements (namely “ein weiter Horizont der politisch-­diplomatischen Beziehungen ausserhalb des eigenen Herrschaftsgebiet”) constituting what Burkhardt has called “das Machtspotential einer imperialen Ordnung (im Mittelmeerraum).”3 Some of these projects came close to realizing Baldwin’s goal, notably the Pelagonia coalition which had presented a clear threat to Nicaea’s rising, but altogether fragile dominance in the region. Baldwin’s participation in this Baldwin ii did not marry a Cuman princess (though some of his barons did). On the 1248 campaign: Saint-Guillain, “Les seigneurs de Salona,” 22–24, 49. The author hypothesizes that this campaign involved yet another siege of Constantinople by the Nicaean emperor John iii Vatatzes. However, the only source informing us of this campaign (the November 1248 letter concerning feudal matters by William of Autremencourt, lord of Salona, to his ­Western liege lord, the bishop of Laon) only says that the prince of Achaia (domino principe) and southern barons such as Autremencourt had recently participated pro negotio fidei et Ecclesie in a campaign ad partes Constantinopolis and ad succurrendum imperii Romanie. This wording does not imply that the campaign was a response to an immediate threat to the capital. On the contrary, Baldwin ii in early 1248 had just returned from the West with new funds (among others, the financial aid that had been decided at the 1245 Council of Lyons) to try to restore his empire. Just as had been the case during the 1237–1240 crusade, Baldwin probably undertook an expedition to recover lost territories with the support of a number of his barons from southern Greece. One year earlier in 1247 Vatatzes had succeeded in recapturing a number of Thracian towns in the vicinity of Constantinople (among them Tzouroulon, Vizye, Medeia, and Derkos). Whether this presumed campaign met with any success is impossible to say, but it would not seem unlikely that a number of places would have been temporarily reconquered. On Baldwin ii’s 1244–1247/48 western voyage: Chrissis, Crusading in Frankish Greece, 155–159. On Vatatzes’ 1247 Thracian campaign: Georgios Akropolites, Historia, §47; Demetrios I. Polemis, “A Manuscript Note of the Year 1247,” Byzantinische Forschungen 1 (1966) 269–276. On the empire’s involvement in the Seventh Crusade (with the imperial couple Baldwin ii (Damietta) and Mary (Cyprus), the Toucy brothers Philip and Narjot ii (kingdom of Jerusalem/Acre), and prince of Achaia William ii of Villehardouin (Cyprus/Damietta): Jean de Joinville, Vie de Saint Louis, §137–140 (Mary of Brienne), §148 (William ii of Villehardouin), §495–498 (Narjot ii of Toucy); Martène and Durand, Thesaurus novus anecdotorum 4: 1042 (Baldwin ii); Teulet, Layettes du Trésor des Chartes 3: n° 3954 (Philip of Toucy); Van Tricht, De Latijnse Renovatio van Byzantium, 2: 797–804. Baldwin ii and his wife Mary may well have used their presence in the region to reinforce the ties—with inter alia Antioch-Tripoli and Cyprus—that had been forged by the Emperors Baldwin i and Henry. In his Complainte de Constantinople (1262) Ruteboeuf still considered Constantinople to be the “head” of the Latin oriental “body,” while the Templar Ricaut Bonomel—writing from the perspective of the Holy Land, where he was based—in his Ir’ e dolors s’es dins mon cor asseza (1265–1266) deplored the lack of papal support for the cause of (Latin) Romania (Ruteboeuf, Oeuvres complètes, vol.1, ed. Michel Zink (Paris, 1989), 356–357; Antoine De Bastard, “La colère et la douleur d’un templier en Terre Sainte. I’re dolors s’es dins mon cor assez” Revue des langues romanes 81 (1974) 357). On the possible marriage alliance with Trebizond: Jean de Joinville, Vie de Saint Louis, §591–592. Van Tricht, De Latijnse Renovatio van Byzantium, 2: 776–777. 3 Burkhardt, Mediterranes Kaisertum und imperialen Ordnungen, 374.

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­ elagonia coalition has gone unnoticed in modern historiography. In order to P put into context the Castilian project, on which our astrological corpus provides information, it will be necessary to briefly outline Latin Constantinople’s involvement in this coalition, which illustrates the continuing vitality of Baldwin ii’s diplomatic (and military) activity in the later 1250s. Several narrative sources contain extensive reports: the different versions of the Chronicle of Morea and the Byzantine chronicles by contemporary George Akropolites (1217–1282), and the later George Pachymeres (1242–circa 1310) and Nikephoros Gregoras (circa 1295–1360). All present the anti-Nicaean Pelagonia alliance in the years 1258–1259 as a coalition between three partners: prince of Achaia ­William ii of Villehardouin, king of Sicily Manfred of Hohenstaufen, and Michael ii Doukas, ruler of Epiros. None mention Baldwin ii or Latin Constantinople. Therefore modern authors have concluded that Baldwin and Constantinople played no part in it, Geanakoplos going as far as to suggest that it actually posed a threat to the Latin emperor.4 The authors of the cited sources, however, may have had their reasons for not mentioning Baldwin ii: the ­Byzantine chroniclers may not have wanted to give the Latin emperor credit for (co-)organizing a formidable mixed Latin-Byzantine anti-Nicaean a­ lliance, while the anonymous author(s) of the Chronicle of Morea (late 13th/14th ­century)—employing a regional perspective—consistently minimizes the political role of any Latin emperor within Latin Romania. The following elements demonstrate that Baldwin wás implicated in the Pelagonia alliance. Akropolites mentions that at the battle of Pelagonia (1259) Anselin of Toucy was taken prisoner by the Nicaean forces together with prince William.5 The Toucys were one of the most prominent lineages of Latin Constantinople and were related to the imperial Courtenay family. The presence of such an important metropolitan baron at Pelagonia suggests that a Constantinopolitan unit participated in the battle. It is hard to imagine that Anselin’s choice to participate was strictly personal and isolated. There was a family connection between Anselin and William ii (his sister had married the prince, but by 1255 she had been deceased and the marriage was childless), but before 1261 Anselin was firmly based in Constantinople. It was only after Michael viii’s capture of the capital in 1261 that he relocated to Achaia, where he married the widow of Otho of Durnay, lord of Kalavryta.6 4 Geanakoplos, Greco-Latin Relations on the eve of the Byzantine Restoration, 113. 5 Georgios Akropolites, Historia, §81. 6 For references on the Toucy family, see Chapter 2, note 18. Anselin’s brother Philip had married Pontia of La Roche, daughter of Otho ii, lord of Argos and Nauplion in the Peloponnese until 1251, when he sold his possessions to his brother Guy i of La Roche, duke of Athens, and returned to France. It is possible that Philip acquired land in the principality of Achaia as

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Additionally, Matteo Spinelli’s Diurnali records that in August 1257 (or perhaps 1258) Baldwin visited King Manfred at Bari in Apulia—near Spinelli’s home village. Manfred controlled part of the Epirote coastline, including the town of Dyrrachion. Around this time, marriage negotiations were being conducted between the Epirote ruler Michael ii Doukas and prince William (who married his daughter Anna) and between Michael and Manfred (who married his daughter Helena). It is hard not to see Spinelli’s information on Baldwin in this context. The authenticity of the source has, however, been much debated, although Zazzaretta has argued convincingly in its favour. It has also been suggested that Spinelli’s mention actually refers to Baldwin’s later visit to Manfred in 1262 (after the loss of Constantinople), which is recorded in several other sources. But diplomatic relations between Baldwin and Manfred in any case predate 1262: Pachymeres informs us that at the time of the fall of Constantinople in July 1261 a large Sicilian military ship (“τῷ ἐκ Σικελίας μεγίστῳ πλοίῳ,” part of a fleet described as composed of νῆες μᾰκραί or war galleys) was present in the capital, no doubt sent there by the Sicilian king.7 A third argument involves Akropolites’ contemporary report of a Latin imperial embassy to Michael viii Paleologos shortly after the latter’s accession as (co-)emperor in early 1259. After having mentioned the various threats confronting the Nicaean empire (including the marriage alliances of Michael ii Doukas with both prince William ii and king Manfred, and—separately— the Latins in Constantinople) and sending an army against the Epirote ruler, the chronicler relates how Baldwin ii’s messengers, seemingly out of the blue, came asking for something he qualifies as “ὐπέρογκα τινα ζητοῦντες καὶ ἀτόπων ὄντα ἐγγύς”: the city of Thessaloniki and all the land up to the walls of Constantinople (all of the Nicaean empire’s western territories). Akropolites ridicules Baldwin’s request by having Michael viii reply to the demands with grotesque excuses and finally counterdemanding half of the metropolitan sales tax (kommerkion) and half of the profits of the metropolitan mint. The Nicaean emperor interestingly concludes with the statement: “εί δ’ούν ἀλλ’ ἔστω μάχη.” In the next chapter the chronicler narrates Michael viii’s own his wife’s dowry. The dowry could however also have consisted of only a sum of money and other movables. On the marriage: Mazzoleni, Gli atti perduti della cancellaria angioina, 1: n° 219, 400. On Otho ii: JeanLongnon, “Les premiers ducs d’Athènes et leur famille,” Journal des Savants (1973) 61–80. 7 The best edition—though not the most recent—remains Matteo Spinelli, Diurnali, ed. Hermann Pabst, mgh SS 19 (Hannover, 1866), 486. Also see Alessandro Zazzaretta, “Sui Diurnali di Matteo Spinelli. Premessa per un riesame della questine spinelliana,” Archivio Storico Pugliese 23 (1970) 199–214; Georgios Pachymeres, Relations historiques, lib. 2, §27; Berg, “Manfred of Sicily and the Greek East,” 272–273, 284–285.

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failed diplomatic attempts to appease Michael ii, King Manfred, and prince William. Thereafter follows his version of the Nicaean victory over the three coalition partners at the Battle of Pelagonia (or Kastoria).8 Akropolites attempts to picture Baldwin’s embassy as an isolated and preposterous affair having nothing to do with the alliance between Michael ii, King Manfred, and prince William. His account, however, does not come across as credible. Indeed, why would Baldwin—himself without any substantial offensive forces at his disposal—at this time have made such extensive demands of Michael viii? Demands that I assume were made in earnest by the Latin emperor. There would appear to be only one sensible answer: because he was part of the coalition which, before turning to war, attempted to achieve its goal of reducing Nicaean power in western Romania by means of diplomacy. Baldwin and his partners no doubt hoped that the threat of their combined military strength would bring the new Nicaean emperor, whose accession was not unproblematic (i.e., the casting aside of the underage emperor John iv Laskaris (1258–1259)), to accept their terms. Michael viii refers to fighting that will have to take place in case his demands are not met by Baldwin, but the only fighting Akropolites mentions is the battle of Pelagonia. One of the elements in this hypothetical pact between the four coalition partners may well have been that Emperor Baldwin granted Thessaloniki in fief to Michael ii Doukas. The defeat of the anti-Nicaean coalition at Pelagonia no doubt was a severe blow for Baldwin, but again—as before after other projects had failed or ended in disappointment—he did not resign himself to fate. On the basis of our corpus one more project may be added to the list of Baldwin’s initiatives to restore his empire. In our texts, apart from the imperial family (Baldwin, his wife Mary, and their children, especially Philip), one other person occupies a prominent place: Alfonso x of Castile, Baldwin’s wife’s nephew who in 1249 had married the emperor’s own grandniece Violante of Aragon. Both the versified introduction and Baldwin’s horoscope confirm that Alfonso, as Wolff has pointed out by way of Marino Sanudo Torsello’s writings, was responsible for Philip of Courtenay’s redemption from the Venetian merchants to whom he had been mortgaged: “un sires (…) qui de lor parentez estoit (…) feroit a soi venir l’enfant et tant lor (=a number of mercheanz) donroit mars et livres que li enfès seroit 8 Georgios Akropolites, Historia, §78 (“seeking excessive and almost absurd things” and “but if otherwise, let there be battle”). The embassy in question is not mentioned by another source. Macrides identifed it with an embassy described by Pachymeres, but this was obviously another occasion, which took place after the battle of Pelagonia and a one-year-truce was concluded between Baldwin ii and Michael viii (Georgios Pachymeres, Relations historiques, lib. 2, §10; Georgios Akropolites, The History, trans. Macrides, 352–353).

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delivres et recevroit de cel segnor de chevallerie le hennor.”9 This sires can be no other than Alfonso, since Wolff on the basis of several Castilian chronicles has demonstrated that Philip was knighted by Alfonso. His aid, however, went beyond redeeming Baldwin’s son: Empress Mary of Brienne in addition to ­securing Alfonso’s support to liberate her son, also conducted negotiations ­arranging a marriage alliance by which Philip was to wed a daughter of the king. Wolff’s sources, however, give only approximate information as to when Philip was redeemed and thus also to when this marriage pact was concluded: on 10 June 1259 Philip was still in Venice, by 1 May 1261 he was in France, in the interval he was liberated and knighted by Alfonso x.10 It still remained somewhat unclear whether the marriage alliance was planned before or only after the fall of Constantinople (25 July 1261), depending on whether negotiations regarding Philip’s redemption and marriage were conducted simultaneously or successively (so possibly only after 1 May or 25 July 1261). Indeed, it just might have been the fall of Constantinople that induced Mary to further strengthen ties with Alfonso. Her husband Baldwin— looking for means to recover his capital and empire—in any case followed up on the marriage alliance by visiting the Castilian court in the spring of 1263.11 In this context a new piece of information sheds light on the matter. The insert containing documents on Venetian affairs in the Levant (including on the mortgage of Philip of Courtenay) in the Pacta Ferrariae volume in the Archivio di Stato in Venice contains a copy of a charter that Wolff does not appear to have consulted. Although the piece has been badly damaged and is only partly legible its content is clear. Dated indictione secunda (1 September 1258–31 August 1259—the rest of the date is illegible) it states that in the ducal palace in the presence of Doge Rainerio Zeno and the major consilium one Giovanni Ferro appeared, as representative of the Venetian merchants who until that time had held Philip of Courtenay (“dominum Phylippum filium excellentissimi domini Balduini imperatoris Constantinopolis”) in custody for 9

BnF, fr.1353, f. 102rb (=Appendix 1, v369–370, v388–392, “a lord (…) who belonged to their parentage (…) would make the child come to him and would give them [a number of merchants] so much marks and pounds that the child would be freed and would receive the honour of knighthood from this lord”). On Violante of Aragon, great-granddaughter of Empress Yolande of Flanders/Hainaut: Katalin Jankovits, “Violante de Hungría (Hungría, c. 1216–Osca / Huesca, 1251) era hija del rey de Hungría Andrea ii y Yolanda de Courtenay,” in Anna Tüskés, ed., Omnis creatura significans. Essays in Honour of Mária Prokopp (Esztergom, 2009), 55–59. 10 Wolff, “Mortgage and Redemption of an Emperor’s Son,” 56–60. See also Chapter 1. ­Alfonso x was the son of Ferdinand iii, king of Castile (1217–1252), Leon (1230–1252), and Galicia (1231–1252), a brother of Mary of Brienne’s mother Berengaria of Leon/Castile. 11 Wolff, Op. cit., 71.

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the loan that they had given the emperor. Ferro had presented Philip “sanum et ­incolumen” and handed him over to the care of “Joanni de Brebareto [John le Bréban] nuntio excellentissimi domini Alfons Dei gratia Romanorum regis semper augusti,” who would bring Philip to the king. The state of the document makes it impossible to decipher the financial arrangement, but it would seem that ­Alfonso made a commitment to pay the merchants—a fact confirmed by ­Marino ­Sanudo Torsello.12 This information allows us to date Philip’s release more precisely, namely between 10 June and 31 August 1259. Combined with the knowledge that our astrological corpus predates (circa 1260) the fall of Constantinople on 25 July 1261 and that it contains a clear reference to the project concerning Philip and Alfonso’s daughter (“entrementres que la dame [= Empress Mary] sera hors, sera traitié del mariage del fil”), it follows that the marriage alliance was being negotiated before Baldwin’s flight from his capital, possibly as early as the summer of 1259.13 It also would appear that the scope of the negotiations was much broader than Philip’s redemption and the accompanying marriage alliance. With regard to Alfonso x, besides his aid in redeeming Philip, our corpus has also the following to say: “.i. grant segnor [=Alfonso] devers occident par cui cist sires [=Baldwin ii] et la dame et lor filz seront relevé de lor povreté et de leur soffraite”;14 and further “il a grant compassion de la provreté de cele haute dame et li done sovraineté”;15 and also “et repairera la dame et li filz a son segnor [=Baldwin ii] qui sera en joie et en exaucement après les .iii. anz de lor retor et metra souz pié touz ses anemis.”16 The combined reading of these passages makes it hard to escape the conclusion that Alfonso was to play a major role in the Latin empire’s projected restoration: not only would he redeem Philip, he would in a general way also relieve the imperial couple’s financial agony, restore their authority (sovraineté), and contribute to the empire’s revival, possibly within a time limit of three years after the conclusion of the 12

13 14 15 16

Venice, Archivio di Stato di Venezia, Secreta, Pacta Ferrariae, f. 54r (“lord Philip, the son of the most excellent lord Baldwin, emperor of Constantinople”; “healthy and unimpaired”; “John le Bréban, messenger of the most excellent lord Alfonso, king of the Romans by the grace of God, always augustus”). For Sanudo see reference in note 10. BnF, fr.1353, f. 102va (=Appendix 2, §11, “while the lady will be away the marriage of the son will negotiated”). BnF, fr.1353, f. 102va (= Appendix 2, §12, “a great lord from the West by whom this lord and the lady and their son will be delivered from their poverty and their suffering”). BnF, fr.1353, f. 102va (=Appendix 2, §13, “he has great compassion for the poverty of this exalted lady and he gives her sovereignty”). BnF, fr.1353, f. 102rb (=Appendix 2, §11, “and the lady and the son will return to her lord, who will be in a state of joy and exaltation three years after their return et will trample his enemies underfoot”).

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agreement. It can hardly be a coincidence that the prediction about Baldwin’s enemies being trampled underfoot is mentioned in connection to Mary and Philip’s return from Alfonso’s court. It would then seem that the projected marriage alliance was part of a deal by which Alfonso was prepared to invest financially and probably also militarily in the Latin empire. This was not the first time that a Castilian scheme to save the empire was being arranged: around 1245–1246, Baldwin with papal assistance had enlisted the aid of the Order of Santiago which would provide troops in return for substantial territorial gains; the plan, however, fell through because of the emperor’s financial problems. The fact that Alfonso, at the time still infante, gave his consent to the project shows that he had been actively involved. Whether or not the same order was involved in the 1259 reprise is impossible to say, but it may well be that they were consulted to provide troops.17 The family relation between Alfonso and Empress Mary, who was his father Ferdinand iii’s niece, provides only one element explaining the Castilian’s king willingness to aid Baldwin. More importantly, support for Latin Constantinople would have fit Alfonso’s own imperial dreams. After the death of William ii of Holland in 1256 he—through his mother Beatrice of Hohenstaufen, herself the daughter of German king Philip of Swabia and his wife Irene Angelos (daughter of Emperor Isaac ii), a descendent of both a Western and Byzantine imperial lineage—had been elected and recognized as rex Romanorum by part of the German prince-electors as well as the city of Pisa, while another group had opted for Richard of Cornwall, Henry iii of England’s younger brother.18 Acquiring the favour of the pope, who would perform the imperial coronation, was crucial in order to realize one’s claims. The Latin empire’s survival and restoration had in the past decennia always been an issue close to the papacy’s heart, even though some authors have argued—unconvincingly—that Innocent iv (1243–1254) and Alexander iv (1254–1261) in the years 1249–1256 in negotiations with Nicaea about ecclesiastical union would have considered abandoning their support for the Latin emperor.19 Alfonso’s ­apparent 17 18 19

On the 1245–1246 project involving the Order of Santiago, see references in Chapter 3, note 77. Luca Demontis, Alfonso x e l’Italia. Rapporti politici e linguaggi del potere (Alexandria, 2012), 35–62. Chrissis and others have argued that if John iii Vatatzes and, after him, Theodore ii, Laskaris reunited the Byzantine Church with Rome, these popes in the context of a litigation before the papal curia would have considered recognizing them as the legitimate emperors of Constantinople, to Baldwin ii’s detriment. But the 1249–1256 negotiations between the papal and Nicaean courts have been misinterpreted. In their correspondence, both popes in essence presented the Nicaean emperors with one of the fundamentals of

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­ illingness to invest in aid for Latin Romania around 1259 should be seen w against this background.The projected marriage alliance may also be viewed from another angle: obviously Alfonso thought Philip, heir to the Constantinopolitan throne, to be a good match for his daughter. Through this marriage, his daughter (and Baldwin’s great-grandniece)—if all went well—would have been crowned empress of Constantinople when Philip succeeded his father. That this prospect appealed to Alfonso shows the significant prestige that the imperial throne of Constantinople still enjoyed at this time in the eyes of the crowned heads of Western Europe, in spite of the fact that by 1259/60 the territories that the Latin emperor controlled had been greatly reduced, and that he had been forced to accept an insufferable affront to his honor (i.e., Philip being mortgaged to Venetian traders). Alfonso may well have pictured the reunification of both Christian empires under his dynasty, with he himself (and his son after him) ruling in the West and his daughter (and his grandson) from Constantinople. In this respect it might be said that in the Castilian king’s view the Latin empire’s Machtspotential, to use Burkhardt’s terminology, remained intact in the sense that “das zugeschriebene überragende militarische oder wirtschaftliche oder sakrale Potential” was still very much alive. In the West the imperial city’s renown indeed remained extraordinary and continued to be a source of fascination.20 current papal political theory: if two princes claim the same imperial throne and both ­recognize papal authority and belong to the Roman Church, it is up to the papacy to decide who has the rightful claim. In the current geopolitical context neither John iii nor his son Theodore ii could accept this basic assumption (as both popes surely knew) and the negotiations dragged on without bearing fruit. For Innocent and Alexander, both deeply engaged in an all consuming political struggle with the Hohenstaufen, this kind of diplomacy was—among other things—a cheap way to protect Latin Constantinople. While the negotiations were ongoing Nicaean aggression against the city ceased, making financial or military aid for the empire less urgent. For John iii, it may partly have been a ploy to evade a new Latin invasion army: as we have seen Empress Mary of Brienne had assurances from some 300 knights in Louis ix’s crusading army that they would come to her husband’s aid after the royal expedition (which lasted from 1249 until 1254) had ended, if the French king would agree to it and provide the financial means (see references in Chapter 3, note 42). See Chrissis, Crusading in Frankish Greece, 146–175; Bernard Stolte, “Vatatzes versus Baldwin. The Case of the Sovereignty of Constantinople,” in Victoria D. Van Aalst and Krijnie N. Ciggaar, eds., The Latin Empire. Some contributions (Hernen, 1990), 127–132; Antonino Franchi, “La svolta politico-ecclesiastica tra Roma e Bisanzio (1249–1254). La legazione di Giovanni de Parma. Il ruole di Federico ii,” Picenum Seraphicum 14 (1977–1978), 208–214. 20 Devereaux, Constantinople and the West, 1:183–186, 192–197. Burkhardt, Mediterranes Kaisertum und imperialen Ordnungen, 374. Albrecht’s view that in the West the Constantinopolitan imperial throne held little appeal, or was not seen as higher than a royal crown, should be discarded (Stefan Albrecht, “Das Griechische Projekt Andreas ii.,” in Neslihan Asutay-Effenberger and Falko Daim, eds., Philopation. Spaziergang in kaiserlichen ­Garten.

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Even after Baldwin ii lost his capital in 1261, Alfonso’s interest in the Latin empire did not wane and the projected marriage alliance was only abandoned under the pressure of Clement iv, who by 1266 favored an alliance between Baldwin ii and the new king of Sicily Charles of Anjou. A 1264 papal letter to Alfonso’s brother Philip still mentions the former’s commitment to the negotium Constantinopolitani imperii: at his brother’s request Felipe was to lead an expedition “ad partes Romanie ad expugnandas Grecorum gentes scismaticas […] cum bellatorum honorabili comitiva.”21 Whether or not Alfonso’s support—whatever form it would have taken had not the Nicaeans captured Constantinople in July 1261—would have substantially redressed the geopolitical situation, is a matter of speculation. Alfonso was, in any case, in a position to embark upon such expeditions: around the same time he had organized a crusade against Salé (in North Africa in 1260), against Niebla (on the Iberian peninsula in 1262) with papal support, and in the 1270s Castilian troops being repeatedly sent to Italy in aid of his imperial vicar William vii of Montferrat.22 The 1239/40 crusade had created much needed breathing space by reconquering part of southern Thrace and a number of key strongholds, such as the fortified town of Tzouroulon, also by forging

Schriften über Byzanz und seinen Nachbarn. Festschrift für Arne Effenberger zum 70. ­Geburtstag (Mainz, 2012), 265–266). At the Council of Lyon in 1245, Baldwin ii—for all to see—solely sat at Pope Innocent iv’s right hand, a clear indication of the extraordinary position he held among all secular princes and prelates, reminiscent of the role played by Roman/Byzantine emperors during general councils (Ludwig Weiland, ed., Relatio de Concilio Lugdunense, in mgh. Legum Sectio 4: Constitutiones et Acta Publica Imperatorum et Regum 2 (Hannover, 1896), 513). 21 Demontis, Alfonso x e l’Italia, 87, 348–349 (“the affair of the empire of Constantinople” and “to the lands of Romania in order to fight the schismatic Greek people (…) with a honorable company of combatants”). The author hypothesizes that Alfonso’s goal was to place former Latin empress Berengaria of Leon-Castile or one of her sons by Latin emperor John of Brienne on the Constantinopolitan throne, but offers no source-based arguments supporting this statement (ibid., 236). As far as can be ascertained, Berengaria died on 12 April 1237 (mentioned in the necrologium of the abbey of Maubuisson and in Aubry of Trois-Fontaines’ chronicle), so she should be excluded (Perry, John of Brienne, 182). Wolff was not familiar with the cited 1264 document and erroneously hypothesized that after 1261 Alfonso lost interest in the marriage alliance (Wolff, “Mortgage and Redemption of an Emperor’s Son,” 70–73). On the rapprochement between Baldwin ii and Charles of Anjou, who in 1266 at Benevento had defeated and killed the Latin emperor’s ally king Manfred of Sicily: Longnon, “Le rattachement de la principauté de Morée au royaume de Sicile en 1267,” 134–143; Chrissis, Crusading in Frankish Greece, 204–207. 22 On these expeditions: Demontis, Alfonso x e l’Italia, 29–30 and 101; H. Salvador Martinez, Alfonso x the Learned. A Biography, Studies in the History of Christian Traditions (Leiden, 2010), 159–163.

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an ­alliance with neighbouring Cuman tribes.23 For the 1259 Castilian project this kind of limited result could have been an achievable goal. Much depended on additional support. With regard to southern Latin Romania this would probably have been no easy matter: the region had recently seen its fair share of military action with the internal war of succession regarding Euboia (1255– 1258, with Venetian involvement) and the Pelagonia debacle (1259). Whether Baldwin ii would have succeeded in gathering support from neighbouring powers and one time allies, such as Hungary, Bulgaria, Serbia, the Cumans or Konya, is hard to assess. The Mongol invasion in the early 1240s had greatly destabilized the region and was still recovering from the blow by 1259. For most of the powers mentioned it would seem that a neutral stand in the Latin-Nicaean conflict, or some minimal form of aid, was the most realistic prospect. Nevertheless, it would appear that Michael ii Doukas, ruler of Epiros, may again have been on board. Michael had recently been one of the allies in the Pelagonia coalition, which in essence had lost the military confrontation with the Nicaean army due to a lack of unified command.24 The fact that Urban iv in 1263 addressed him as princeps Thessalonicae—along with William ii of Villehardouin, prince of Achaia, and Venice—requesting their assistance to the Franciscan messengers he was sending to Michael viii Paleologos (“qui pro imperatore Graecorum se gerit”) to discuss ecclesiastical unity strongly suggests that ­Michael was situated in the Latin camp and had—at least formally—recognized papal authority. If he had been a schismatic hostile ruler there would have been little point for Urban to ask for his help.25 The fact that the pope recognized him as prince of Thessaloniki is a crucial element. Michael never actually held the city and thus we may wonder why he was addressed with this title—one not attested elsewhere. Donald Nicol, who mistakenly states that Urban iv was requesting Michael’s support for the Latin empire’s restoration, hypothesized that it should be seen as papal flattery.26 This seems unlikely: if flattery would have been the main consideration in the choice of title, why then not flatter Michael by referring to his rule over towns and lands he actually possessed, rather than highlighting the painful fact that Thessaloniki had been lost for the Doukai of Epiros since 1246, when Michael’s 23 Lower, The Barons’ Crusade, 150–157. Giebfried, “The Mongol Invasions and the Aegean World,” 130–131. 24 A lack of unified command probably played a major role in the Latin defeat at the battle of Poimanenon in 1224 (Van Tricht, “Robert of Courtenay,” 1033). 25 Luke Wadding, Annales Minorum (Lyon, 1628), 2:n° 7, 257 (“prince of Thessaloniki” and “who behaves himself as emperor of the Greeks”). 26 Donald M. Nicol, The Despotate of Epiros (Oxford, 1957), 194–19, n. 13.

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nephew Demetrios lost it to John iii Vatatzes?27 In the past popes had never, of their own accord, bestowed titles upon rulers in Latin Romania that had not been granted or recognized by the Latin emperors. Although in 1263 relations between Baldwin ii and Urban iv were strained due to the former’s dealings with the Hohenstaufen king Manfred of Sicily, from a papal point of view only one secular authority could legitimately confer the authority of the ruler of Thessaloniki: the Latin emperor.28 That Michael in Urban’s eyes was indeed subject to a higher secular authority is apparent from the title used: he is addressed as princeps (like that other imperial vassal, the prince of Achaia) and not as rex Thessalonicae. Although within Latin Romania Thessaloniki had the status of a kingdom feudally dependent on Constantinople, addressing Michael as king was clearly not an option for Urban: this would have suggested his recognition as an independent ruler (to the detriment of the Latin emperor), and, moreover, there is no evidence of him ever having been crowned.29 On this basis it may be suggested that at some point Baldwin ii had granted the rights over Thessaloniki to Michael, no doubt on the condition that he recognize Baldwin as his emperor and suzerain. The Pelagonia alliance, or the Castilian project if Michael was involved, seems the most likely occasion. It would thus seem that around 1258–1263 Epiros temporarily became part of the empire ruled by the Latin emperors once again.30 For Michael, his regional 27

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In the past popes addressed the Doukai of Epiros/Thessaloniki with non-territorial titles. For example, in 1218 Honorius iii addressed Theodore Doukas, ruler of Epiros, although he (temporarily) had recognized papal authority, only as nobilis vir Theodorus Comninus dux (Honorius iii et Gregorius ix, Acta, n° 23–25); also in 1232 Gregory ix addressed Manuel Doukas, then ruler of Thessaloniki, styling himself Byzantine emperor, only as nobilis vir Manuel Cominianus (ibid., n° 176). The reason was that their rule over these lands was not recognized by the Latin emperors to whom their lands in theory belonged (at least as being feudally dependent upon them). See for example, the 1244 papal confirmation of Guglielmo i of Verona’s rights to the kingdom of Thessaloniki, which had been granted to him by Baldwin ii in 1240 (Loenertz, “Les seigneurs de Négrepont,” n° 1, 269). Guglielmo’s theoretical rights, however, never materialized. On the relations between Baldwin ii and Urban iv around 1263: Chrissis, Crusading in Frankish Greece, 194–204. Boniface of Montferrat (1204–1207) likewise had never been addressed (or crowned) as king (and had never assumed the title himself), although the principality was already referred to as a kingdom (Benjamin Hendrickx, “Le royaume latin des Montferrat à Thessalonique (1204–1224): le roi et les institutions,” Ekklesiastikos Pharos 91 (2009) 249–251). Crowning the king of Thessaloniki was the Latin emperor’s prerogative; in 1209 Emperor Henry crowned Boniface’s young son Demetrios of Montferrat: Van Tricht, The Latin Renovatio of Byzantium, 87. This had for example also been the case in 1209–1217 and Michael i Angelos—the founder of the Epirote principality—after 1204 had originally been a member of Boniface of Montferrat’s entourage (Filip Van Tricht, “La politique étrangère de l’empire latin

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autonomy of Thessaloniki, even under a Latin emperor, may well have seemed preferable to whatever Nicaea had to offer: tighter control through more ­centralized government and no substantial territorial gains. In addition to Michael ii Doukas another possible party to the Castilian project might have been Manfred of Sicily,31 as having been a partner in the Pelagonia coalition. Afterwards he appears to have remained Baldwin’s ally, and possibly even his vassal for the Byzantine territories he held (inter alia Dyrrachion in Epiros and the island of Corfu). At the time of the Nicaean capture of Constantinople in 1261 at least one (large) Sicilian military ship, possibly part of a fleet, was present in the capital, most likely sent by Manfred in Baldwin’s aid.32 This could be seen in the context of the feudal auxilium obligation. After the loss of the city, Baldwin enjoyed a prolonged stay at Manfred’s court (1261–1262), with the emperor, until the Battle of Benevento in 1266, attempting to mediate in Manfred’s bitter conflict with the papacy, contingent on the Sicilian king promising his support in organizing an expedition to regain Constantinople.33 At the same time Manfred’s relationship with Michael ii remained good. Shortly after the battle of Pelagonia his troops aided in reconquering Epiros from the Nicaean army stationed there. The Sicilian ruler continued to lend military assistance until 1265, when his conflict with the papacy escalated— whose cause was now championed by Louis ix of France’s brother Charles of Anjou, count of Provence.34 The fact that Manfred and Alfonso x were political rivals on the Italian peninsula need not per se have prevented their cooperation in the matter of Latin Romania. As has been argued, both rulers remained committed to the Constantinopolitan project in the years 1261–1266, and each

de Constantinople. Sa ­position en Méditerranée orientale problèmes de chronologie et d’interprétation (1re partie),” Le Moyen Age 107 (2001) 232–234). 31 Venice could perhaps have been another partner in the Castilian project, but this seems unlikely in view of the difficult relations between Baldwin ii and the Serenissima. After 1261, Baldwin and Venice did cooperate in an attempt to organize an expedition to retake Constantinople (Wolff, “The Mortgage and Redemption of an Emperor’s Son,” 71–72). 32 See reference in note 7. One might see in this procurement of Sicilian naval assistance an attempt to be less dependent upon Venice’s naval power. As we have seen in Chapter 2, Baldwin’s relationship with the Serenissima was problemetic. 33 Manfred’s support for the Latin empire is inter alia to be seen in the context of his efforts to reach a reconciliation with the papacy, see Wolff, “The Mortgage and Redemption of an Emperor’s Son,” 66–70; Beverly Berg, “Manfred of Sicily and Urban iv: Negotiations of 1261,” Mediaeval Studies 55 (1993) 116–132; Chrissis, Crusading in Frankish Greece, 188– 189, 204. 34 Nicol, The Despotate of Epiros, 187–189. Berg, “Manfred of Sicily and the Greek East,” 285–286.

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surely knew of Baldwin’s close dealings with the both of them.35 Wolff’s contention that the Castilian policy (Alfonso x), attributed by the author to Mary of Brienne, and the Sicilian policy (Manfred), attributed to Baldwin ii, were necessarily incompatible with one another must in my view be discarded.36 In any case, the fact that Baldwin ii around 1257–1261 managed to mount two major projects (the Pelagonia alliance and the Castilian expedition, which by 1261 was still in its preliminary stages) to revitalize his empire and redress the geopolitical balance in the region in his favour shows that striving for “sektorale Hegemonie in einem bedeutenden Teil des Mittelmeerraumes”—another of Burkhardt’s six criteria defining the Machtspotential of an imperiale Ordnung—was still the Latin emperor’s objective, and—if militarily successful—surely was not unrealistic. Consequently, there is no reason to conclude, as Wolff, Chrissis, Burkhardt, and others have done, that the Latin empire in 1261 was moribund. It is only the bias of hindsight, combined with an ­unfamiliarity with crucial source material, that led these authors to state that Latin C ­ onstantinople’s fall was inevitable.37

35 36 37

On the rivalry between Alfonso x, king-elect of the Romans, and Manfred, king of Sicily, to establish their political influence over northern Italy: Demontis, Alfonso x e l’Italia, 66–81. Wolff, “The Mortgage and Redemption of an Emperor’s Son,” 73. Robert L. Wolff, “The Latin Empire of Constantinople,” in Kenneth M. Setton, ed., A History of the Crusades, vol. 2 (Philadelphia, 1962), 230–233. Burkhardt, Mediterranes Kaisertum und imperialen Ordnungen, 374. Chrissis, Crusading in Frankish Greece, 178.

Part 2 Cultural Dynamics

Chapter 5

The Astrological Corpus: Western and Byzantine Influences The astrological corpus of texts related to Baldwin ii of Courtenay—the astronomical/astrological treatise, its versified introduction, and the emperor’s horoscope—contains valuable and original information concerning political life in mid-13th-century Constantinople, but also about cultural life (the arts and sciences) in the Queen of Cities in this phase of her history. Assuming that their date (in/around 1260) and place of origin (Constantinople) is correct— the question is whether the mixed Latin-Byzantine environment within which these documents were produced is reflected in them. The resulting picture of cultural life in the city can then be supplemented by the data available in other sources and in modern historiography. Until now it has been widely assumed, either implicitly or explicitly, that after 1204 cultural life in the city virtually came to a halt and was transferred, at least Byzantine cultural life, to various regional centers (Nicaea, Epiros, Serbia, etc.). Whether our corpus can be considered a product of the mixed LatinByzantine environment within which its author lived and worked—that these texts are a combination of typically Western and typically Byzantine elements— it will be productive to look chiefly for Byzantine influences. Western elements have already been delineated extensively by Duhem and Dörr in their respective discussions of our texts. These authors have identified in the Introductoire d’Astronomie a number of sources used by our author that can be typified as Western and which I will review briefly, adding my own findings. 1

Western Influences

A major Western source of information for the astronomical section of the treatise was Martianus Capella’s De Nuptiis Philologiae et Mercurii (probably 5th century ad), an encyclopedic allegorical work discussing the seven artes liberales, including among them astronomy. In the medieval West, Capella’s late Roman compilation of classical scholarship was popular from the early Middle Ages until around the 13th century and was copiously commented upon.1 Our author 1 Bruce S. Eastwood, Ordering the Heavens. Roman Astronomy and Cosmology in the C ­ arolingian Renaissance, Medieval and Early Modern Science 8 (Leiden, 2007), passim. David C. ­Lindberg,

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, ���9 | doi:10.1163/9789004383180_007

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explicitly acknowledges his dependence on Capella by citing him 21 times as his source of information. He adopts, among others, Capella’s partial heliocentrism (with Venus and Mercury revolving around the sun, first proposed by Heraclides Ponticus in the 4th century bc).2 In these passages he translates or paraphrases Capella fairly literally, sometimes adding information from other authors’ work. Our author also uses a number of other classical authors as minor sources of information—works composed in Latin or available in Latin translation—all familiar names in Western medieval intellectual milieus. Macrobius’ Commentarii in somnium Scipionis (early 5th century) is cited five times. Our author inter alia adopts his classification of dreams. In another passage, Marcus Tullius Cicero’s opinion on the order of the planets (with the sun in fourth place), as reported by Macrobius, is explicitly mentioned.3 A third late classical source is Boethius’ Consolatio philosophiae. Our author in his cosmological introduction mentions this 6th-century author’s opinion on God being form without matter.4 Furthermore, our author’s Introductoire contains a reference to Augustine of Hippo (early 5th century), who—together with the Byzantine church father John of Damascus—is quoted as stating that angels and spirits are able to foresee the future (insofar as God commands or allows this), an idea that is to be found in his De diversis quaestionibus ad Simplicianum.5 Probably our author’s

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The Beginnings of Western Science: The European Scientific Tradition in Philosophical, Religious, and Institutional Context, Prehistory to ad 1450, 2nd ed. (Chicago, 2007), 206–209. For a partial survey of these citations, see Dörr, Der älteste Astronomietraktat, 11–15. Instances in the unpublished part of the treatise: BnF, fr. 1353, f. 25ra (=Appendix 3, Ch. 86, §1), f. 26va (=Appendix 3, Ch. 86, §13), f. 27ra, f. 28ra, f. 32ra, f. 34ra, f. 34va, f. 34vb. Compare with Martianus Capella, De nuptiis Philologiae et Mercurii, §816–878; in translation: Martianus Capella, The Marriage of Philology and Mercury, trans. William H. Stahl and Richard Johnson, Martianus Capella and the Seven Liberal Arts 2 (New York, 1977), §816–878. On the Introductoire’s dependence on Capella, see also Duhem, Le système du monde, 3:137–152; Burnett, “Astrological Translations in Byzantium,” 182. BnF, fr. 1353, f. 8v (=Appendix 3, Ch. 2, §6–7), f. 26vb (=Appendix 3, Ch. 86, §15), f. 30va. For a critical edition and translation of Macrobius’ work with an introduction on his life and works, see Macrobius, Commentaire au songe de Scipion, ed. and trans. Mireille ArmisenMarchetti, Collection des universités de France (Paris, 2001). On the reception of Macrobius’ Commentarii in the medieval period, see, for example, Eastwood, Ordering the Heavens, passim; Lindberg, The Beginnings of Western Science, 206–209. On the Introductoire’s dependence on Macrobius, see also Duhem, Le système du monde, 3:137–152. BnF, fr. 1353, f. 10ra (=Dörr, Der älteste Astronomietraktat, §3, 38). On this concept in Boethius’ Consolatio: John Marendon, Boethius, Great Medieval Thinkers (Oxford, 2003), 80–81. On Boethius’ popularity during the Middle Ages: Lindberg, The Beginnings of Western Science, 206–209. BnF, fr. 1353, f. 8va (=Appendix 3, Ch. 2, §5). Augustinus, De diversis quaestionibus ad Simplicianum, ed. Almut Mutzenbecher, Corpus Christianorum Series Latina 44 (Turnhout, 1970), lib. 2, §3.3. On the passage in question: Paula J. Rose, Commentary on Augustine’s De cura pro mortuis gerenda: Rhetoric in Practice, Amsterdam Studies in Classical Philology 20 (Leiden, 2013), 463.

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knowledge of the views of a number of early Greek philosophers (Thales, Heraclites, Anaximenes, Anaximander, Epicuros) on the four elements (earth, water, air, and fire) was derived from another work by Augustine, his most influential magnum opus De civitate Dei.6 Duhem hypothesized that our author also made use of Calcidius’ commentary on Plato’s Timaeus (4th century ad), which includes a partial translation of this dialogue, and possibly of Pliny the Elder’s Historia naturalis in his discussion of the concept of epicycles in planetary retrogradation.7 Finally, our author was familiar with the astronomical and astrological corpus by Ptolemy (Klaudios Ptolemaios, 2nd century ad) and also refers to the Aphorismi by Hippocrates (5th century bc), which had been translated into Latin in the early medieval period.8 Besides these classical titles our author has used a number of works written by post-classical, medieval Western scholars. In one passage, describing the start dates of the four seasons, he refers to the early medieval and influential Isidore of Sevilla’s De natura rerum (around 613).9 In a passage discussing several types of shadow in order to assess the size of the moon, he names the Carolingian commentator of both Capella’s De nuptiis and Macrobius’ Commentarii, Remigius of Auxerre (9th century).10 There are two medieval authors that our author has likely used, but whom he does not name. Duhem assumes that our author used the Periphyseon (or De divisione naturae) by John Scot Eriugena’s (9th century), as Remigius an exponent of the Carolingian Renaissance, in his description of a special type of fire existing in the heavenly spheres which does not burn or destroy.11 Much more important is our author’s dependence, with regard to the astronomical part of his Introductoire, on the work of William of Conches, a scholar belonging to the school of Chartres in the

6 7 8 9

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BnF, fr. 1353, f. 9va-f. 10 ra (=Dörr, Der älteste Astronomietraktat, §3, pp. 36–38). Augustinus, De civitate Dei, ed. Bernhardt Dombart and Alfons Kalb, Corpus Christianorum Scholars Version (Turnhout, 2014), lib. 6, §5; lib. 8, §2–5. BnF, fr. 1353, f. 26va (=Appendix 3, Ch. 86, §13). Duhem, Le système du monde, 3:137–152. Calcidius, Commentaire au Timée de Platon, ed. Béatrice Bakhouche, Histoire des Doctrines de l’Antiquité Classique (Paris, 2011), 1: §77–86. BnF, fr. 1353, f. 8va (=Appendix 3, Ch. 2, §2). BnF, fr. 1353, f. 32va. Isidore de Seville, De natura rerum. Traité de la nature suivi de l’Epitre en vers du rois Sisebut à Isidore, ed. Jacques Fontaine, Bibliothèque de l’Ecole des Hautes Etudes Hispaniques 28 (Bordeaux, 1960), §7, 202–203. Succinctly on Isidore’s life, works, and influence (with further references): Lindberg, The Beginnings of Western Science, 157. BnF, fr. 1353, f. 28va. On Remigius of Auxerre: Remigius Autissiodorensis, Commentum in Martianum Capellam. Libri i–ix, ed. Cora E. Lutz, 2 vols (Brill, 1962–1965); Eastwood, Ordering the Heavens, 198–270; Michael Baldzuhn, “Remigius von Auxerre,” in BiographischBibliographisches Kirchenlexikon 22 (Nordhausen, 2003), 1146–1149. BnF, fr. 1353, f. 27rb. Duhem, Le système du monde, 3:143.

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first half of the 12th century. Various passages on the course, composition, and properties of planets are clearly in part influenced by William’s Philosophia.12 In addition to these classical and medieval works originally written in or translated into Latin, there is another category that must be treated as ­Western. A number of astrological treatises originally written in Arabic by (mostly) Muslim scholars were translated into Latin from the 12th century on, making them accessible to Western intellectuals. The most important author in this respect is the Persian scholar Abu Maʿshar (9th century) or Albumaxar as he is named in our treatise. His Introductorium maius, as the Kitāb al-mudkhal al-kabīr became known in the West, was a major influence and is cited throughout the Introductoire. Abu Maʿshar is the most frequently named author in the entire treatise (30 times; Martianus Capella is second with 21 citations). The Latin translation used was that of John of Sevilla around 1130.13 Also frequently cited is Masha’allah ibn Athari (or Messehala), an 8th-century Persian Jewish astrologer. Several of his astrological works were also translated into Latin by the same John of Sevilla.14 Another work often used is the Liber novem iudicum, a Latin compilation of various Arabic astrological authorities which took shape in a number of versions between circa 1150 and 1250. Of these, our author cites Jergis (possibly 9th century, named 12 times), Abu Yusuf Yaʿqub ibn Ishaq al-Kindi (or Alkindes, 9th century, named 11 times), Sahl ibn Bisr (or Zael, 9th century, named 10 times), Umar al-Tabari (or Aomar, 12

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BnF, fr. 1353, f. 25ra (=Appendix 3, Ch. 86, §1–planets as erratikes), f. 25ra-va (=Appendix 3, Ch. 86, §2–5–on the planets as moving contrary to the motion of the firmament), f. 26rbva (=Appendix 3, Ch. 86, §9–13–on the retrogradation of planets), f. 26vb-f. 27ra (=Appendix 3, Ch. 86, §15–16–on the order of the planets). Cf Duhem, Le système du monde, 3:145; Guillelmus de Conchis, Philosophia, ed. Marco Albertazzi, Archivio medievale 10 (Lavis, 2010), lib. 2, §3, §9–10, §23, §26, §33–34, §36–37, §41. On the school of Chartres and the study of astronomy and astrology there: Charles Burnett, “La réception des mathématiques, de l’astronomie et de l’astrologie arabes à Chartres,” in Aristote, L’école de Chartres et la cathédrale (Chartres, 1997), 101–107. For a partial overview of passages based on Abu Maʿshar, see Dörr, Der älteste Astronomietraktat, 12–13; Duhem, Le système du monde, 3:148–149. See also Boudet, Entre science et nigromance, 53–55. The manuscript containing Baldwin’s horoscope and the related verse introduction and Introductoire also contains a French translation of the Latin translation of Abu Maʿshar’s Kitāb taḥāwīl sinī al-ʿālam (known in Latin as Flores astrologiae). For example: BnF, fr. 1353, f. 32ra-f. 35rb, f. 42rb-f. 46va (=Appendix 3, Ch. 126, §2). On the influence of Masha’allah astrological works on the medieval West: Boudet, Entre science et nigromance, 54–55. The manuscript containing Baldwin’s horoscope and the related verse introduction and Introductoire also contains a French translation of John of Sevilla’s Latin translation of Masha’allah’s work on eclipses, known in Latin as Epistola de rebus eclipsium et de conjunctionibus planetarum (see Chapter 1, note 2, and also Burnett, “­ Astrological Translations in Byzantium,” 182).

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8th century, named once), Abu Ali al-Khayyat (or Abenalaiat, 9th century, named once) and a Pseudo-Aristotle. Two particular sections taken from the Liber are Sahl’s Quinquaginta precepta and what has been called by Charles Burnett a “hidden preface,” that references a work on talismans (Atalacim or Atalacym after the Arabic at-Talasim), which our author, misinterpreting a passage in the preface, incorrectly suggests was written by Ptolemy.15 Jergis’ Liber significationum planetarum in duodecim domibus was used as well. To my knowledge the earliest manuscript containing this Latin translation of Jergis’ book is dated to the late 12th century (perhaps around 1180) or the early 13th century.16 In Duhem’s general assessment of the Introductoire’s quality as a work of science, he concluded that although our author treats his subject matter with clarity (unlike some of his sources), his work at the same time is rather outdated and backward: it could have been written around 1150. Duhem’s argument is that he finds no traces of the Latin translations of scientific works that were made in the second half of the 12th century—such as Aristotle’s Meteorologica or De Caelo, or of Ptolemy’s Almagest, in spite of the fact that these became influential during the 13th century.17 Our author would appear to have missed these texts and the first stages of medieval Latin Aristotelianism, a­ lthough Duhem admits that our author does possess a vague—but defective—notion of some ptolemaic astronomical concepts. In my opinion Duhem has misjudged the Introductoire in this respect.18 15 The Quinquaginta precepta: BnF, fr. 1353, f. 59rb-f. 61va (=Appendix 3, Ch. 186, §1). On the “hidden preface”: BnF, fr. 1353, f. 62v-f. 63r (=Appendix 3, Ch. 189, §1–3). In general on the Liber novem iudicum’s influence on the Introductoire, see Burnett, “Astrological Translations in Byzantium,” 182–183. On the Liber novem iudicum itself, see Boudet, Entre science et nigromance, 177. For an English translation of the text: Benjamin Dykes, trans., The Book of the Nine Judges (Golden Valley, 2011); see also Charles Burnett, “A Hermetic Programme of Astrology and Divination in mid-Twelfth-Century Aragon: The Hidden Preface in the Liber novem iudicum,” in idem and William F. Ryan, eds., Magic and the Classical Tradition (London and Turin, 2006), 99–118. 16 BnF, fr. 1353, f. 56vb-f. 59rb. Compare: BnF, lat. 16208, f. 50va. On Jergis: Lynn Thorndike, A History of Magic and Experimental Science (New York, 1923), 2:718–719; Benjamin Dykes, The Book of the Nine Judges, 7. On the manuscripts of his Liber significationum planetarum: Moritz Steinschneider, “Die Europaischen Ubersetzungen aus dem Arabischen bis Mitte des 17. Jahrhunderts,” Sitzungsberichte der Akademie der Wissenschaften in Wien. Philologisch-historische Klasse 151 (1905); Fritz S. Pedersen, The Toledan Tables. A Review of the Manuscripts and the Textual Versions, Historisk-filosofiske skriften 24 (Copenhagen, 2002), 1:165–166. 17 On these translations: Boudet, Entre science et nigromance, 47–48. 18 Duhem, Le système du monde, 3:142–145. Duhem’s assessment of the Introductoire was, among others, adopted by Mazal, Geschichte der abendländischen Wissenschaft, 122 (sehr rückstandig and das Niveau des 13. Jahrhundert ist nicht erreicht). In general on the rise of

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First of all, the use of Jergis’ Liber significationum planetarum is already an indication that our author may have used texts that became available in the West well after 1150. The anonymous Latin translation as stated is not attested in the manuscript tradition before the late 12th or early 13th century, although of course an earlier manuscript may once have existed. Secondly, the Introductoire was conceived as an introduction in astronomy and astrology aimed at a lay audience who had not enjoyed higher education, not as an exhaustive treatment of the subject such as Aristotle’s and, especially, Ptolemy’s cited works. Moreover, the astrological theories in the second part are the main focus of the Introductoire: astronomy is not treated or studied for its own sake. Both these considerations go some way in explaining why our author relies on works dealing with astronomy in an introductory and compilatory way, instead of using more elaborate and detailed works. Indeed, at the University of Paris—where in 1210 a local synod had still banned the teaching of Aristotle’s works on natural philosophy (a position that received some measure of papal support in 1231), and where in 1277 bishop Etienne Tempier condemned 219 propositions in reaction to what has been called “radical Aristotelianism.”— until the early 1250s the arts faculty’s astronomy course still consisted of the relevant chapter in Capella’s De nuptiis. It was not until 1255 that the faculty officially established the study of Aristotle’s assembled works.19 But apart from this, there are elements in the Introductoire indicating that our author was more familiar with Aristotle and Ptolemy’s oeuvre than Duhem assumed. In any case, our author certainly grants both of these ancient philosophers an important place in his work. With regard to Ptolemy, this is borne out by the fact that as the first authority mentioned he occupies a prominent place (“voel premierement commencier des paroles que Ptolemeus met el prologue de son livre”).20 Ptolemy is quoted 9 times. Aristotle, on the other hand, is one of the authorities our author cites most: 19 times; only Martianus Latin Aristotelianism: Fernand Van Steenbergen, Aristotle in the West: The Origins of Latin Aristotelianism (Louvain, 1955); Luca Bianchi and Eugenio Randi, Vérités dissonantes. Aristote à la fin du Moyen Âge, Vestigia–Pensée antique et médiévale 11 (Fribourg, 1993); Robert Pasnau, “The Latin Aristotle,” in Christopher Shields, ed., The Oxford Handbook of Aristotle (Oxford, 2012), 665–689. 19 McCluskey, Astronomies and Culture in Early Medieval Europe, 197. On the Parisian bans: Johannes M. Thijssen, Censure and Heresy at the University of Paris, 1200–1400 (Philadelphia, 1998), 40–55; Alain Boureau, “La censure dans les universités médiévales (note critique),” Annales. Histoire, Sciences Sociales 55 (2000) 315–323. The bans also included a condemnation of certain astrological propositions implying astral fatalism (see also Chapter 3, p. 55). 20 BnF, fr. 1353, f. 7rb (=Appendix 3, Ch. 1, §2, “I would like to start with words that Ptolemy wrote in the prologue of his book”).

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Capella (21) and Abu Maʿshar (30) are more prominent.21 In the cited passage by Ptolemy our author claims to be citing Ptolemy’s fundamental work on astronomy, the Mathematike syntaxis or Almageste, as our author calls it and as it was generally known in the Latin West. Ptolemy’s Syntaxis was translated into Latin circa 1160 by an anonymous translator in Sicily (from Greek) and again in 1175 by Gerard of Cremona (from Arabic). It is, however, clear that our author does not quote the prologue of the Almagest itself, but rather a passage from the previously mentioned “hidden preface’” in the compilatory Liber novem iudicum, which claims to reproduce Ptolemy’s prologue. This being said, our author’s general statement about the divinely inspired influence of the celestial bodies (and their movements) on the sublunary world and creatures, inter alia the human body and soul, can still be considered to be a paraphrase of Ptolemy’s views as expressed in the introductions to the Almagest and to the first and third books of the Tetrabiblos (or Quadripartitum in Latin, translated in 1138 by Plato of Tivoli), Ptolemy’s astrological counterpart to his astronomical work, with some Platonic influence mixed in (the affinity between the human soul and the celestial spheres in his Timaeus), which our author discusses more extensively elsewhere in his treatise (and explicitly attributes to Plato).22 Our author also knew Ptolemy’s Handy Tables and explicitly names its author when he cites the extremal latitudes of the planet Venus (8°56’). These tables will be discussed more extensively in a consideration of possible Byzantine influences on the Introductoire.23 Finally, our author also refers to pseudo-Ptolemaic works. He cites the Centiloquium (“si cum dist Ptholemeus en son Centilogue”), a pseudo-Ptolemaic work containing one hundred astrological sentences which became widely available in the West through a Latin translation (from the Arabic) made in the first half of the 12th century. Furthermore, as we have previously seen, he adopts the “hidden preface” of 21 Dörr, Der älteste Astronomietraktat, §3 and §35. BnF, fr. 1353, f. 25va-f. 26ra (=Appendix 3, Ch. 86, §6–7), f. 27ra-f. 27rb, f. 28vb-f. 29ra, f. 32ra, f. 32vb, f. 33vb, f. 34va, f. 35va-f. 35vb, f. 55rb, f. 56rb. 22 BnF, fr. 1353, f. 7rb (=Appendix 3, Ch. 1, §2), f. 63ra (=Appendix 3, Ch. 189, §2). Cf. Claudius Ptolemaeus, Composition mathématique, ed. and trans. Nicolas Halma (Paris, 1927), 1:4; Claudius Ptolemaeus, Tetrabiblos, ed. and trans. Frank E. Robbins, Loeb Classical Library (Cambridge, 1964), lib 1, §1–3; lib. 3, §1–2. With regard to these passages, Duhem only notes—correctly—that our author’s first passage does not correspond at all with the beginning of the Almagest (Duhem, Le système du monde, 3:133). The passage in question in Calcidius’ Latin translation of Plato’s Timaeus: Calcidius, Commentaire au Timée de Platon, 1: §41d-42e. On the date of the Latin translations of both works: Boudet, Entre science et nigromance, 47, 53. 23 BnF, fr. 1353, f. 37vb. Claudius Ptolemaeus and Theon of Alexandria, Tables manuelles astronomiques, ed. Nicolas Halma (Paris, 1825), 3:7–8.

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the Liber novem ­iudicum, which refers to a book on talismans entitled Atalacim or Atalacym ­(after the Arabic al-Talasim), which our author as mentioned, misinterpreting a passage in the preface, erroneously suggests was written by Ptolemy.24 Concerning our author’s possible familiarity with Aristotle’s work, at the outset of his work he succinctly introduces his readers to a number of metaphysical and physical theories. Although for most of the cited classical Greek authors our author is dependent upon Augustine’s De civitate Dei, it would seem that this is not the case for what he has to say about Aristotle’s views. Our author correctly mentions three of Aristotle’s basic concepts (“Aristotes assena iii. principes des choses devant les elemenz”): the prime or unmoved mover (“l’engigneor, ce est li maistres ovriers qui est Dex”), matter (“la matire, c’est yle”) and nature (“l’ovreor ou l’instrument, ce est nature”). None of the mentioned sources used by our author (Capella, Macrobius, Boethius, etc.) contains this information or the reference to Aristotle. This suggests that our author may have been familiar with Aristotle’s Physica, wherein these concepts are introduced and which was translated into Latin before 1150.25 Apart from this our author is also well aware of Aristotle’s theory about a fifth element (called aether or quintessence), one of the most distinctive features of his De caelo: “el quint leu resplendissant tornent entor li Solauz et la Lune et les autres .v. planetes,” and “[Aristotes] disoit que li planete sunt en la quinte essence que nos avons desus dite qui ne sueffre mi le temolte ne nule contrariete; and also: li cors sovrains […] en lor perdurable nature et en lor perdurable essence.”26 In Aristotle’s view the celestial spheres were composed of aether (imperishable, circular motion), while the sublunary realm was composed of the four elements earth, water, air, and fire (perishable, rectilinear motion). 24

BnF, fr. 1353, f. 8ra (=Appendix 3, Ch. 2, §3, “as Ptolemy says in his Centiloquium”). Compare the Latin version of the Centiloquium (originally composed in Arabic): PseudoPtolemaeus, Liber centum verborum Phtolomei cum commento Haly (Venice, 1493), f.107r. On the Latin translation of the Centiloquium attributed to Ptolemy: Boudet, Entre science et nigromance, 53; Burnett, “The Hidden Preface in the Liber novem iudicum,” 105–106. 25 Dörr, Der älteste Astronomietraktat, §3, p. 39 (“Aristotle teached three principles of things before addressing the elements”; “the engineer, that is the master workman which is God”; “matter, which is hyle”; and “the worker or the instrument, which is nature”). Cf. Aristotle, Physica, trans. R.P. Hardie and R.K. Gaye, The Works of Aristotle 2 (Oxford, 1930), passim. On the Latin translation: Pasnau, “The Latin Aristotle,” 666. 26 BnF, fr. 1353, f. 10rb (=Dörr, Der älteste Astronomietraktat, §3, p. 39, “in the shining fifth place the Sun and the Moon and the other five planets rotate”), f. 24va-f. 26ra (“[Aristotle] said that the planets are in the fifth essence, which we have described above and which suffers no disorder or adversity” and “the sovereign bodies […] with their perennial nature and their perennial essence”).

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Duhem dismissed the idea that our author may have read Aristotle’s treatise on the heavens, on the grounds that his views on the composition (and movement) of the planets, which he explicitly refers to as being Aristotle’s views, are not entirely in line with Aristotle’s actual views.27 Indeed, our author states that according to Aristotle the planets are composed not only of a special kind of fire (“uns autres feus qui est assoagenz et resplendissanz qui ne art ne ne gaste nule chose, si cum est cil qui est des la Lune en amont ou il n’a nule repugnance ne nule contrariete”), but also of limited amounts of water, and to a lesser degree earth and air.28 This appears to contradict the De caelo where it is implied that the planets—as part of the celestial realm and as eternal and circularly moving bodies—are exclusively composed of aether, although Aristotle does not state this explicitly.29 It is clear that our author’s special kind of fire is to be identified with the quintessence, since both share the same fundamental qualities: situated in the region from the moon upward and characterized as suffering nule contrariete. Our author identifies this kind of fire which does not burn or destroy as one of the three types of fire Aristotle introduces in his Topica (part of the Organon, available in a Latin translation by Boethius and much used from the Carolingian era on): “Ces manieres de feu nos mostre Aristotes la ou il dit qu’il sunt .iii. espices de feu, la lumiere, la flame et le charbon. La premiere est la desus, les autres .ii. avons nos ca desoz.”30 In equating aether with a kind of fire our author is merely following a well established tradition also found in Macrobius, Capella, the Carolingian commentators, or William of Conches—although none of these refer to Aristotle when discussing the element aether.31 The addition of varying amounts of water—and to some degree also earth and air—to the composition of planets as our author states is not quite in line with Aristotle in De caelo (and concisely repeated by him in his Meteorologia). Since the idea of the planets being composed of more than one element

27 Duhem, Le système du monde, 3:42–145. 28 BnF, fr. 1353, f. 27ra (all the planets, “another fire which is appeasing and shining, and which does not burn or destroy anything, just as that [fire] situated upward from the Moon, where there is no aversion nor adversity”) and f. 28vb-f. 29ra (the moon in particular). 29 Aristotle, De caelo, trans. John L. Stocks (Oxford, 1922), §268a-270b. 30 BnF, fr. 1353, f. 27rb (“These types of fire Aristotle shows us where he states that there are three kinds of fire, light, flame and charcoal. The first is there above, the other two we have here below”). Aristotle, Posterior Analytics. Topica, ed. Hugh Tredennick and E.S. Forster, Loeb Classical Library (Cambridge (Mass.), 1960), §134b. Pasnau, “The Latin Aristotle,” 666. 31 Eastwood, Ordering the Heavens, 32, 183–187, 208–211. Guillelmus de Conchis, Philosophia, lib. 2, §20, 106–107.

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is, however, nowhere explicitly contradicted, there remained room for interpretation: i.e., mainly composed of aether (and moving in spheres of aether), but also of other elements. And for our author it must have been obvious that Aristotle never meant that—although situated in spheres composed of aether—the planets themselves were exclusively composed of this aether. For our author a varied composition of the planets—resulting in variations in weight (also attributed to Aristotle)—is simply a necessity, since according to his astrological theories these aspects (varying composition and weight) are essential elements in explaining their various influences on the sublunary realm.32 It would have been unthinkable for him that Aristotle may have thought otherwise since—not noticed by Duhem—he considers the Greek philosopher to have been a master astrologer. Indeed, our author quotes several astrological texts that he attributes to Aristotle, one about the influence of the seven planets on such things as human appearance and character, and one zodiologium (on the influence of the moon depending on its position vis-à-vis the zodiac signs).33 These are evidently pseudo-Aristotelian writings, but the idea of the planets being composed of various elements (aether and the sublunary) do not exist in any such works I consulted (for example, the Liber novem iudicum, or the Secretum secretorum, or the De mundo which include sections on astronomy or astrology). This idea thus does appear to be an interpretation by our author of the aether theory in the De caelo (and Meteorologia), probably triggered by his identification of Aristotle as an astrologer.34 In relation to our author’s presentation and treatment of Aristotle’s astronomical theories it must be said that in general he is not convinced by them. 32

The planets’ influence on the sublunary realm is variously thought to be related to (a) properties such as being dry or moist, hot or cold, etc. (which in Aristotelian physics are directly related to the elements earth (cold and dry), water (cold and moist), air (hot and moist) and fire (hot and dry), and (b) the ways whereby planets dominate one another (which is dependent upon their weight). Aristotle, On Sophistical Refutations. On Coming-to-be and Passing Away. On the Cosmos, ed. E.S. Forster and D.J. Furley, Loeb Classical Library (Cambridge: Mass., 1955), §330a. 33 BnF, fr. 1353, f. 32ra-f. 35vb, f. 55rb-f. 55vb. 34 Pseudo-Aristotle, De mundo, trans. E.S. Forster and J.F. Dobson (Oxford, 1914). Steven J. Williams, ed., The Secret of Secrets: The Scholarly Career of a Pseudo-Aristotelian Text in the Latin Middle Ages (Ann Arbor, 2003). On a number of other astrological pseudoAristotelian texts: Charles Burnett, “Arabic, Greek and Latin works on astrological magic attributed to Aristotle,” in Jill Kraye, Charles B. Schmitt and W.F. Ryan, eds., Pseudo-Aristotle in the Middle Ages. The “Theology” and other Texts (London, 1986), 84–96. On Aristotle’s reputation as an astrologer: Simon de Phares, Le Recueil des plus célèbres astrologues, ed. Jean-Patrice Boudet (Paris, 1997), 185; Charles Burnett, “Aristotle as an Authority on Judicial Astrology,” in José Meirinhos and Olga Weijers, eds., Florilegium Mediaevale. Études offertes à Jacqueline Hamesse à l’occasion de son éméritat (Louvain-la-Neuve, 2009), 41–62.

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­ ristotle’s hypotheses regarding the planets moving in the same direction A as (and not contrary to) the firmament, regarding the planets moving with ­different speeds (versus identical speeds), and regarding the nature of the moon being fire (versus water and earth) are all treated as minority opinions (in one instance called heresie).35 This may explain why our author does not dwell at length on Aristotle’s astronomical theories. Disregarding them completely was, however, evidently not an option either, probably in view of the fact that our author did appreciate (Pseudo-)Aristotle as an astrologer and because by the mid-13th century Aristotle’s status as a philosophical and scientific authority had grown immensely. In spite of this rise of Aristotelianism, our author can be considered as something of a Neo-Platonist, as Duhem remarked (regarding his familiarity with pagan or Christian Neo-Platonists such as Capella, Macrobius, Augustine, and Boethius). Hypotheses attributed to Plato are consistently preferred over Aristotle’s and he holds him in the highest regard (“Platons qui regarda plus hautement et plus soutilment” and “Platons qui fu hauz philosophes”).36 The analysis of Western influences on the Introductoire, including the possible influence of the Latin translations of Aristotle’s and Ptolemy’s works, yields an important result when discussing possible Byzantine influences on our corpus of texts. It is clear that our author, on the one hand, depends on several major sources throughout his treatise (most importantly Martianus Capella and Abu Maʿshar), but on the other hand for specific sections relies on a number of secondary sources from which he extracts both substantial portions (for example in the case of the pseudo-Aristotelian zodiologium or Masha’allah’s writings) or at times small snippets of information, for example the extremal latitude of Venus from Ptolemy’s Handy Tables, or the start dates of the seasons from Isidore of Sevilla’s De natura rerum, or the three types of fire from Aristotle’s Topica. It is to be expected that possible Byzantine textual influences may take either of these forms. 2

Possible Byzantine Influences

Byzantine influence is, of course, beyond doubt: the texts contain the expression of concepts pertaining to Byzantine imperial ideology—such as the universalist aspirations, the Roman character of the empire, and the close association 35 36

BnF, fr. 1353, f. 25va-f. 27ra (=Appendix 3, Ch. 86, §6–16), f. 28vb-f. 29ra. BnF, fr. 1353, f. 9vb (=Dörr, Der älteste Astronomietraktat, §3, p. 38, “Plato who observed more eruditely and more intelligently”), f. 32ra (“Plato who was a superior philosopher”). Duhem, Le système du monde, 8: 403–411.

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between Christ and emperor—and possibly display a familiarity with certain Byzantine eschatological traditions (e.g., the Last Emperor prophecies).37 But whether astronomical or astrological ideas and texts belonging to Byzantine culture impacted our corpus is here the question, as are possible channels through which such Byzantine influence might have come about. There would appear, theoretically, to be two main channels: by means of an acquaintance with classical or medieval Greek texts not available in the West, and/or through intellectual interaction with Byzantine scholars. This raises the question of language.38 The consultation of Greek texts by our author presupposes either a personal knowledge of Greek or—at least—the association of Latin scholars in his social circle who knew Greek. A number of passages in the Introductoire may perhaps be taken to indicate that our author knew Greek, although admittedly the evidence is not conclusive. For example, at one point our author explains the etymology of the word “galaxy” (“gala est lait en grejois et xios cercles”).39 But there are two problems in supporting the hypothesis of our author knowing Greek (assuming a copyist did not commit a mistake): the Greek word for circle is not “xios” (but “κύκλος” or “κίρκος”); and exactly the same explanation can be found in one of his Latin sources, William of Conches’ Philosophia. This passage does not in itself indicate a knowledge of Greek, but conversely it does not testify against such knowledge: our author may simply have chosen to adopt Conches’ usage uncritically.40 For his treatment of the star constellation known as Triangle, our author uses the Greek name for this constellation (Deltaton), which he correctly translates as li Triangles. Moreover, our author also indicates the link between this constellation’s name and the Greek letter delta (“si est diz delton i. letre grejoise qui est faite comme triangle”). This could be taken to imply that he was familiar with the Greek alphabet and perhaps a faint indication that he could read—and perhaps write—Greek. However, This, however, would be ill-founded. Gaius Julius Hyginus’ De astronomia (or Poeticon astronomicon), a work in Latin discussing the mythological background of the star constellations 37 38

39 40

On the Last Emperor prophecies, see Chapter 2, p. 38–41. In general on the liguistic situation in Latin Romania: David Jacoby, “Multilingualism and Institutional Patterns of Communication in Latin Romania (Thirteenth–Fourteenth Centuries),” in Alexander D. Beihammer, Maria G. Parani, and Christopher D. Schabel, eds., Diplomatics in the Eastern Mediterranean 1000–1500. Aspects of Cross-Cultural Communication, The Medieval Mediterranean 74 (Leiden, 2008), 27–48. BnF, fr. 1353, f. 12ra (=Dörr, Der älteste Astronomietraktat, §11, p. 43, xios–“gala is milk in Greek and xios is circle”). BnF, fr. 613, f. 91rb (xies). Guillelmus de Conchis, Philosophia, lib. 2, §13. The same explanation also in Huguccio of Pisa’s Magnae Derivationes (around 1190): Uguccione da Pisa, Die “Magnae Derivationes,” ed. Claus Riessner, Temi e Testi 11 (Rome, 1965), 165.

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written in the 1st century bc and very popular in medieval times, also contains the Greek name and the same reference to the letter delta.41 When naming the constellation called li Serpenz our author adds “qui a nom Ydrus que Hercules tua et est diz de ydros qui est aive en grejois por ce que cil serpenz habite en aive.”42 Hyginus’ work here was our author’s source for the mythological content, but there the Greek word ydrus is not mentioned. And although the Greek word for water is usually ὕδωρ and the word ὕδρος itself commonly means “water creature,” Hydros was the divine personification of Water in Orphic cosmogony (not mentioned in Hyginus’ De astronomia or his Fabulae). Furthermore, the adjective ὕδριος does mean “of water” and the prefixes ὕδρο- and ὕδρα- are evidently often used in compound nouns referring to water. In yet another passage concerning the phases of the moon, our author uses a Greek term for the full moon: “pansilenos de pan [or πᾶν] qui est tout et silen [or σέλας] qui est clartez.” Given our author’s probable familiarity with Petrus Comestor’s Historia scholastica (see the mention of Noah’s son Yonites and Nimrod as giant), this element too may have been taken from this source. Also, in a passage, again without any mythological overtones, our author states that “ylios [or ἥλιος] qui est Solauz en grejois,” which is obviously entirely correct.43 Finally, as already mentioned in our discussion of Aristotelian influence our author correctly translates “yle”(or ὕλη) as matter, a term and translation that he may also have adopted from William of Conches. While there are a limited number of passages that may imply that our author knew (some) Greek (although this is by no means certain), there were persons with a Western background present within his social circle who certainly knew Greek. We have for example already met Anselin of Toucy, a leading metropolitan baron of Latin-Byzantine descent, who knew Greek well, as probably did Emperor Baldwin ii. There were also Latin scholars and intellectuals in Constantinople who were familiar with the Greek language. The anonymous Constantinopolitan Dominican who around 1252 composed a

41

42 43

BnF, fr. 1353, f. 12va (=Dörr, Der älteste Astronomietraktat, §14, p. 45–“delton is the name of a Greek letter that resembles a triangle”). Gaius Julius Hyginus, De astronomia, ed. Ghislaine Viré, Bibliotheca Teubneriana (Leipzig, 1992), lib. 2, §19. On the popularity of Hyginus’ work: Jane Chance, Medieval Mythography: From Roman North Africa to the School of Chartres, ad 433–1177 (Gainesville, 1994), 50, 97. BnF, fr. 1353, f. 12vb (=Dörr, Der älteste Astronomietraktat, §15, p. 46–“the Serpent which is named Hydra and which Hercules killed, and the name is derived from ydros, which is water in Greek, because this serpent lives in water”). Pansilenos: BnF, fr. 1353, f. 29va (“pansilenos from pan which signifies all and silen which signifies clarity”). Ylios: BnF, fr. 1353, f. 33ra (“ylios which is Sun in Greek”). For Petrus Comestor’s Historia Scholastica, see Chapter 1, p. 18.

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theological treatise called Contra Graecos was obviously familiar with an important number of theological works which at that time were only available in Greek, which either he himself or one of his fellow friars must have read.44 William of Moerbeke, the famed Dominican who translated many works by Aristotle and his commentators directly from the Greek, must have resided in Constantinople for at least some period of time.45 In general Berthold Altaner has stated that the events of 1204 must have led to an increase in the Western knowledge of Greek (local lords and intellectuals, transfer of Greek manuscript to the West).46 The question remaining is whether these Latins had Byzantine counterparts who were familiar with French or other Western languages. This was most surely the case. In general Laura Minervini has remarked on the use of French and other Mediterranean languages in the Latin Orient (specifically Cyprus and Syria-Palestine): “Nous avons de bonnes raisons de penser que, au Moyen Âge, des langues comme l’arabe, le grec, le français et quelques vulgaires italiens étaient connues et utilisées dans certains milieux, dans la Méditerranée Orientale, avec différents niveaux de compétence, même par des locuteurs non natifs.”47 Moreover, concerning the principality of Achaia around the turn of the 13th/14th century, Gill Page has painted a picture of a multilingual society with, for example, native Byzantine poets “who spoke and wrote vernacular Greek and read some of the simpler texts in educated Greek but also understood and read the French and Italian vernaculars.”48 With regard to Constantinople itself the gasmouloi should be pointed out: the mixed offspring of Latin-Byzantine relations and marriages, which increased substantially after 44

45

46

47 48

See Antoine Dondaine, “‘Contra Graecos.’ Premiers écrits polémiques des Dominicains d’Orient,” Archivum Fratrum Praedicatorum 21 (1951), 321–446. Also see Andrea Riedl, “Das Purgatorium im 13. Jahrhundert: Schlaglichter auf ein Novum der ost-westlichen Kontroverstheologie am Vorabend des ii. Konzils von Lyon (1274),” Annuarium Historiae Conciliorum 46 (2014) 355–370. Berthold Altaner, “Die Kenntnis des Griechischen in den Missionsorden während des 13. und 14. Jahrhunderts,” Zeitschrift für Kirchengeschichte 53 (1934), 447–454. See also: Jean Richard, “L’enseignement des langues orientales en Occident au Moyen Age,” Revue des études islamiques 44 (1976), 149–164. Adriaan Pattin, “Pour la biographie de Guillaume de Moerbeke O.P.,” Angelicum 66 (1989) 390–402. Willy Vanhamel, “Biobibliographie de Guillaume de Moerbeke,” in Jozef Brams and idem, eds., Guillaume de Moerbeke. Recueil d’études à l’occasion du 700e anniversaire de sa mort (1286)(Leuven, 1989), 301–383. See also Chapter vi. Laura Minervini, “Le français dans l’Orient latin (xiii e–xiv e siècles). Éléments pour la caractérisation d’une scripta du Levant,” Revue de Linguistique Romane 74 (2010), 139. Gill Page, “Literature in Frankish Greece,” in Nickiphoros I. Tsougarakis and Peter Lock, eds., A Companion to Latin Greece, Brill’s Companions to European History 6 (Leiden, 2014), 314–320.

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1204 and who after 1261 were to be found as soldiers in Michael viii Paleologos’ navy. D’Amato in a recent contribution highlights the fact that these gasmouloi knew Western languages.49 At the imperial court several interpreters are attested. A certain Manuel served as an interpreter for Emperor Henry, and Emperor Baldwin ii employed a Byzantine interpreter who translated letters from French or Latin into Greek.50 The emperor’s two high-ranking secretaries Nikephoritzes/ Nikephoros and Maximos Aloubardes, having switched sides after 1261 were used by Michael viii Paleologos as messengers to Pope Urban iv; Jacoby hypothesized, correctly, that they were chosen for this mission because of a fluency in Latin and/or Western vernaculars.51 Sometime before 1261, Nikephoritzes (Niquephores) served as Baldwin’s messenger to Otho of Cicon, lord of Karystos in Euboia. Otho belonged to a noble lineage from Burgundy and the preserved imperial letter concerning the mission was written in French. This suggests that Nikephoritzes knew French, though it does not necessarily mean that the negotiations were exclusively conducted in French: Otho’s relative John of La Roche, duke of Athens, for example is known to have paraphrased in Greek a passage from Herodotos’ Histories during a military expedition in 1275. Although no scholarly activities are known for either Nikephoritzes and Aloubardes, it seems reasonable to suppose that as imperial secretaries they were highly educated intellectuals: before 1204 and in Nikaia this was often the case as Constantinides has shown.52 For example, phylax John, since he too was one of Baldwin’s direct collaborators, probably knew Western vernaculars such as French and possibly Latin as well. It would thus seem that there were present at Baldwin ii’s court Western and Byzantine functionaries or dignitaries who were able to communicate with one another directly and who shared

49

Raffaele D’Amato, “The Last Marines of Byzantium. Gasmouloi, Tzakones and Prosalentai. A Short History and a Proposed Reconstruction of their Uniforms and Equipment,” Journal of Mediterranean Studies 19 (2010) 221–223. 50 Innocentius iii, Regesta, PL 216, n° 35, col. 227. Van Tricht, The Latin Renovatio of Byzantium, 130–131. 51 For source references concerning Nikephoritzes/Nikephoros and Aloubardes see ­Chapter 2, note 33. See also Jacoby, “Multilingualism and Institutional Patterns of Communication in Latin Romania,” 38. 52 Hendrickx, “Regestes des empereurs latins de Constantinople,” n° 275. Riant, Exuviae sacrae Constantinopolitanae, 2:n° 93, 144–145. On Otho: Jean Longnon, “Les premiers ducs d’Athènes et leur famille,” 76–77; Constantinides, Higher Education in Byzantium, 21–22. On John of La Roche: Marino Sanudo Torsello, Istoria del Regno di Romania, 120–121; Kenneth M. Setton, The Papacy and the Levant (1204–1571). Volume 1: The Thirteenth and Fourteenth Centuries (Philadelphia, 1976), 423.

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an interest in scholarly or intellectual pursuits. Such context can be expected to have stimulated scientific and cultural exchange. The existence—inter alia at court—of a group of Byzantines knowing Western vernaculars implies that the fact that our author chose to write his treatise in French (“me est priz talenz de espondre en romanz aucuns des secrez de astronomie”) did not mean that Byzantines were meant to be excluded from his intended audience, although they obviously were not his first intended audience.53 Our author might have, for example, invited colleagues such as phylax John to discuss his work, in either its preparatory or finishing stages. Against such a background it is interesting to note an observation concerning the Introductoire made by Charles Burnett: “Its form and its authorities would have been very familiar to Byzantine astrologers.” Indeed, astrological compendia using the works written by Masha’allah, Abu Maʿshar, and others were well-known as a genre in Byzantium. A number of Byzantine astrological compilatory works of a similar character dated to the 12th–14th centuries have been preserved. Contemporary Byzantine scholars with an interest in astrology would probably have voiced little or no objections to our author’s approach. Moreover, with regard to Castile, Vicente Garcia has remarked that astrology functioned as a point of contact between intellectuals of different religions/cultures (Christian, Jewish, Muslim) and as “una especie de lengua franca.” The same may have been true in Latin Constantinople.54 However, it is hard to conclude that our author would have adopted the form of his treatise directly or exclusively from Byzantine examples, since comparable original astrological compendia were being composed in the West from the middle of the 12th century, although before the middle of the 13th century only a few such treatises are known.55 Regarding the question of language, we may wonder whether the Byzantine cultural and specifically linguistic context perhaps influenced our author’s choice to write his treatise in vernacular. With regard to imperial marshal Geoffrey of Villehardouin’s La conquête de Constantinople—one of the first original historical texts written in the French vernacular—Cyril Aslanov has suggested 53 54

55

BnF, fr. 1353, f. 7ra (=Appendix 3, Ch. 1, §1, “it is my intention to explain in the vernacular some of the secrets of astronomy”). Burnett, “Astrological Translations in Byzantium,” 183. David Pingree, “The Astrological Translations of Masha’allah in Interrogational Astrology,” in Paul Magdalino and Maria Mavroudi, eds., The Occult Sciences in Byzantium (Paris, 2006), 231–243. Vicente Garcia, “Una nueva filosofía de la astrología en los siglos xii y xiii,” 255. Boudet lists three such original works: Raymond of Marseilles’ Liber judiciorum (1141), the anonymous Epitome totius astrologiae (1142), and Roger of Hereford’s Liber de quattuor partibus de arte astronomice judicandi (around 1178) (Boudet, Entre science et nigromance, 56).

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as much.56 The Introductoire is considered to be the first treatise on astronomy/astrology in French.57 In fact, if the proposed date here for the Introductoire holds true (1259/1260) and possibly a few years earlier, it is singularly one of the very first vernacular scientific works. Indeed, in the medieval West vernacular translations of scientific works (in Latin, Greek, Arabic, or Hebrew) only commence after 1250. The earliest center of such translations was Alfonso x of Castile’s court, where these were being produced from the early 1250s on; in France such translations followed a decade later.58 As we have seen, through his wife Mary of Brienne and Alfonso x’s wife Violante of Aragon, Baldwin was related to the Castilian royal lineage, and in the mid-1240s and late 1250s there existed close diplomatic contacts between the Constantinopolitan and Castilian courts. Given this context, our author—who gives Alfonso a prominent place in Baldwin’s horoscope—may perhaps have been influenced in part by the Castilian linguistic innovation. It is not to be excluded that he might have had direct contact with the Castilian court (for example, by serving as an imperial emissary or as a member of Baldwin’s or Mary’s travelling party). But this does not detract from the fact that Aslanov’s observation concerning Villehardouin’s chronicle may also be applied to the 56

Cyril Aslanov, “Aux sources de la chronique en prose française: entre déculturation et acculturation,” in Thomas F. Madden, ed., The Fourth Crusade: Event, Aftermath, and Perceptions. Papers from the Sixth Conference of the Society for the Study of the Crusades and the Latin East, Istanbul, Turkey, 25–29 August 2004, Crusades–Subsidia 2 (Aldershot, 2008), 143–165. 57 Dörr, Der älteste Astronomietraktat, 1–3. Dörr still assumed the later date for our corpus of texts (circa 1270) proposed by earlier authors. 58 Some references on the rise of the use of vernaculars in medieval scientific texts in the West: Thomas F. Glick, Steven J. Livesey, and Faith Wallis, eds., Medieval Science, Technology and Medicine: An Encyclopedia (New York, 2005), 136–137; Mazal, Geschichte der abendländischen Wissenschaft, 119–120; Erwin Huizenga, “Unintended Signatures: Middle Dutch Translators of Surgical Works,” in Michèle Goyens, Pieter De Leemans, and An Smets, eds., Science Translated. Latin and Vernacular Translations of Scientific Treatises in Medieval Europe, Mediaevalia Lovaniensia. Series 1:Studia 40 (Leuven, 2008), 415–448; Lluís Cifuentes, “Université et vernacularisation au bas Moyen Âge: Montpellier et les traductions catalanes médiévale,” in Daniel Le Blévec, ed., L’université de médecine de Montpellier et son rayonnement (XIIIe–XVe siècles). Actes du Colloque international de Montpellier, 17–19 mai 2001, De diversis artibus 71 (Turnhout, 2004), 274–278. On Western bilingualism versus Byzantine diglossia: Tivadar Palagyi, “Métaphraser et mettre en roman: diglossie et bilinguisme à Byzance et en France au XIIIe siècle,” in Patrick Renaud, ed., Les situations de plurilinguisme en Europe, Cahiers de la Nouvelle Europe. Collection du Centre Interuniversitaire d’Etudes Hongroises 11 (Paris, 2014), 25–37. A more nuanced view on Byzantine diglossia: Panagiotis A. Agapitos, “Grammar, Genre and Patronage in the Twelfth Century: Redefining a Scientific Paradigm in the History of Byzantine Literature,” Jahrbuch der Österreichischen Byzantinistik 64 (2014), 1–22.

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choice of language in the Introductoire. In Byzantium, in essence the same language (Greek, despite a situation of diglossia) was used for both oral and written communication, including scientific literature. The Constantinopolitan and Castilian courts were alike in the sense that both were cosmopolitan and multilingual in character. Similar contexts may have produced similar outcomes, to be seen against the general background of an on-going process of vernacularisation of the written word that had been underway in the West from around the middle of the 12th century. In any case, the question of language cannot be set apart from one of our author’s stated intentions for writing the Introductoire. In his introduction he states the following: “ceste oevre la quele je ne faz mie por les rudes ne por cels qui ont l’entendement gros, mes por cels qui ja soit ce qu’il ne soient fondé de parfonde clergie, ils ont neporquant l’entendement soutil.”59 It seems that the intended audience implied here were the French- speaking lay members of the Latin court elite, who in general—unlike many clerics—had not enjoyed any formal higher education. In the medieval West, a basic introduction to the seven liberal arts around the middle of the 13th century was still not ordinarily a part of the secular aristocracy’s educational curriculum.60 A change, none the less, was underway and there were of course individual exceptions. At the royal—and in varying ways also the imperial—courts of Castile and Sicily contemporaries Alfonso x (el Sabio) and Emperor Frederick ii (Stupor mundi) not only acted as patrons of scholars, but they also developed a direct personal interest in matters of science and philosophy, following in the footsteps of their Arabic and Byzantine predecessors and the culture of learning that had been created in these regions. Somewhat earlier, both the English rulers Henry ii (1154–1189) and Richard i (1189–1199) at the Plantagenet court had been known for their erudition and personal interest in various scholarly disciplines.61 Clerics/scholars such as Vincent of Beauvais, in his De eruditione filiorum nobilium (late 1240s, written for the children of Louis ix of France), and Jacob of Maerlant (who had a connection with the comital court of Holland), in his 59 60 61

BnF, fr. 1353, f. 7ra (=Appendix 3, Ch. 1, §1, “this work which I compose not for the ignorant or those who possess a mediocre understanding, but for those who, although they may not be versed in profound science, they nevertheless possess a refined understanding”). Nicholas Orme, From Childhood to Chivalry. The Education of the English Kings and Aristocracy 1060–1530 (London, 1984), passim. Chris Given-Wilson, The English Nobility in the Late Middle Ages (London, 1996), 209–218. See, for example, Abulafia, Frederick ii. A Medieval Emperor, 257–268; Robert I. Burns, “Stupor Mundi: Alfonso x of Castile, the Learned,” in idem, ed., Emperor of Culture: Alfonso x the Learned of Castile and His Thirteenth-Century Renaissance (Philadelphia, 1990), 1–13; Glick, Livesey, and Wallis, Medieval Science, Technology and Medicine, 387; Martin Aurell, The Plantagenet Empire, 1154–1224 (Harlow, 2007), 94–101.

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Heimelykheid der heimelykheden (around 1266, a translation/adaptation of the pseudo-Aristotelian Secretum secretorum) and in his Arthurian romance Torec (around 1262), advocated that nobles acquaint themselves with the liberal arts, though in the case of Beauvais not without some ambiguity.62 In Byzantium the situation was markedly different. An introduction to the seven liberal arts, with a clear emphasis on grammar and rhetoric (which included literature and philosophy), through the enkyklios paideia was without any reserves considered an integral component of the education of the members of the elite. Indeed, Dion Smythe has pointed out that a lack of such literary, philosophical, and rhetorical education was used as to mark outsiders.63 Perhaps our author’s Introductoire, among other things, should be seen as an attempt to provide the Latin elite (specifically that part with no knowledge of Latin or Greek) with an intellectual background that could match the Byzantine elite’s, with in the first place the specific Byzantine context—and possibly the educational trend with regard to the secular elite in the medieval West—­ providing the inspiration. The incorporation of classical mythology while discussing various star constellations, not found in Capella and Abu Maʿshar, can be seen in this light, albeit not exclusively.64 It is not to be excluded that our author perhaps also wrote—or had the ambition to write—an introduction in vernacular to other liberals arts. In any case, in the versified introduction to the treatise he stresses the superior value of intelligence and knowledge over gold and other riches (“el mont ne valt nul avoir/autant come sens et savoir”) and he considers the study of astronomy as the coronation of one’s intellectual education.65 62

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Frits Van Oostrom, Maerlants Wereld (Amsterdam, 1996), 415–422. Vincent of Beauvais, De eruditione filiorum nobiliorum, ed. Arpad Steiner, The Medieval Academy of America 32 (Cambridge: Mass., 1938), §2, 9; §14, 52–53; §15, 56. Beauvais in connection with studying the liberal arts on the one hand quotes the saying rex illiteratus est quasi asinus coronatus, but on the other hand he also emphasizes that divina sapientia (or theologia)—the goal of any study—can also be obtained without learning the liberal arts. Michael Grünbart, Inszenierung und Repräsentation der byzantinischen Aristokratie vom 10. bis zum 13. Jahrhundert, Münstersche Mittelalter-Schriften 82 (Paderborn, 2015), 171– 183. Constantinides, Higher Education in Byzantium, 1. Dion C. Smythe, “Insiders and Outsiders,” in Liz James, ed., A Companion to Byzantium (Chisester, 2010), 76–77. BnF, fr. 1353, f. 12rb-f. 12vb (=Dörr, Der älteste Astronomietraktat, §14–15). Making reference to classical mythology and history was a familiar feature of Byzantine literature (see for example various contributions in Margaret Mullet and Roger Scott, eds., Byzantium and the Classical Tradition (Birmingham, 1981)), although in the West the classical heritage, including mythology, was up to a point also part of different, both Latin and vernacular, literary genres (see, for example, Renate Blumenfeld-Kosinski, Reading Myth. Classical Mythology and Its Interpretations in Medieval French Literature), Figurae: Reading Medieval Culture (Stanford, 1998). BnF, fr. 1353, f. 3rb (=Appendix 1, v77–78, “In this world no possession is as valuable as intelligence and knowledge”).

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The influence of Byzantine educational and intellectual values may be observed in Baldwin ii’s portrayal with regard to his personal talents. In our corpus, Baldwin is characterized in two ways: as being wise and eloquent. In the introductory poem it says: “et que nul de plus haut lignage / ne meaus emparlé ne plus sage / ne troveroit l’en a son temps.” And in the actual horoscope: “Mais Mercurius qui estoit amis del Soleil li aident en deniers et en richeces et en facunde et en eloquence.”66 The idea of a wise ruler is in the genre of the socalled mirrors for princes a cliché found in Byzantium as well as in Western Europe (and outside the Christian world as well) that can be traced back to the concept of the philosopher-king in Plato’s Republic, which was known in the medieval West through Boethius’ Consolatio philosophiae, and to biblical figures such as King Solomon.67 But the more specific emphasis on Baldwin’s rhetorical abilities (meaus emparlé, facunde, eloquence) would seem to point to Byzantium. Rhetorical skills do not feature prominently in Western educational or princely literature (such as Beauvais and Maerlant). In the West, in any case, not everyone was convinced of Baldwin’s rhetorical skills. According to a contemporary chronicle (written circa 1259–60) when the emperor visited the French royal court in the 1240s, queen-mother Blanche of Castile “le trouva enfantin en ses paroles, si li desplut moult, car à empire tenir convient sage homme et vigreus.”68 The same Blanche had in an earlier letter (1243) to Baldwin shown herself critical of his use of Byzantines in his entourage.69 Perhaps her critical attitude concerning Baldwin’s manner of speech is to be seen in the same light: not conforming to the Western standard for princes, or more precisely as too foreign (or Byzantine) to her liking. In Byzantium, on the other hand, with regard to the (secular) elite, the development of rhetorical abilities was at the very core of one’s education. Magdalino and Thorndike have shown that in 12th-century Constantinople rhetoric 66

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BnF, fr. 1353, f. 4rb (=Appendix 1, v345–347, “And in his time no one would be found who belonged to a more exalted lineage, or was or wiser or more well-spoken”), f. 101rb (=Appendix 2, §3, “But Mercury with his friend the Sun help him with coin and riches and rethorical skill and eloquence”). See, for example, Linda T. Darling, “Mirrors for Princes in Europe and the Middle East: A Case of Historiographical Incommensurability,” in Albrecht Classen, ed., East Meets West in the Middle Ages and Early Modern Times: Transcultural Experiences in the Premodern World, Fundamentals of Medieval and Early Modern Culture 14 (Berlin, 2013), 227–236; Van Oostrom, Maerlants Wereld, 244–246. Joseph-Jean De Smet, ed., Chronique de Flandres et des croisades, in Recueil des chroniques de Flandre 3 (Bruxelles, 1856), 676–677 (“thought his words and speech childish, which displeased her greatly, because ruling an empire requires a wise and vigorous man”). See references in Chapter 2, note 32.

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was valued more and was far more omnipresent than philosophy, especially at court.70 The fact that our author repeatedly presents Baldwin as an eloquent man most likely reflects this typically Byzantine taste for rhetoric. In a Byzantine source, Ephraim Aenios’ late 13th-/early 14th-century Historia chronica, Baldwin is depicted in positive terms as a gentle (ἤπιος), moderate (μέτριος), self-controlled (σωφρονικός), and graceful (χαρίεις) man.71 Speech being an essential aspect of one’s appearance, it may be that grace applied to Baldwin’s ability to express himself verbally. Rhetorical competence, as part of a general gracefulness, would then seem to have been part of his public image in Byzantine eyes as well. The development of this ability may have been a component of his education, which would have been at least partially inspired by a Byzantine model. From the age of 4 until 15 his education was supervised by persons who all had strong Byzantine connections: his brother Emperor Robert (†1227), his sister Mary († around 1228; Theodore i Laskaris’ widow), and regent (and kaisar) Narjot of Toucy (1228–1231).72 Another element of possible Byzantine influence is the place of Ptolemy within the Introductoire. From my earlier overview of the Western sources used by our author it is clear that he intended to give his work a cosmopolitan aspect. The authorities he explicitly cites (whether he used their original works or not) are so-called Chaldean and Egyptian sources (unspecified), classical Greeks (for example Thales, Anaximenes, Empedocles, Plato, and Aristotle), as well as Romans (Marcus Tullius Cicero, Macrobius, Martianus Capella), both Greek/Byzantine and Latin patristic authors (Augustine, Dionysius the A ­ reopagite, John of Damascus), Persian and Arabic—both Jewish and ­Muslim—authors (Masha’allah, Abu Maʿshar), and Western medieval authors (Isidore of Sevilla, Remigius of Auxerre). Within this impressive multicultural parade of astronomical/astrological authorities, however, one name stands out: although Ptolemy is not the most frequently mentioned author (Ptolemy 9 times; Aristotle 19 times; Martianus Capella 21 times; Abu Maʿshar 30 times), he nevertheless occupies a special place. Ptolemy is not only the first authority our author refers to (at the very outset of his work), but also near the end of his work—at the beginning of its final section containing a short practical manual on correctly answering concrete astrological questions—our author again refers to Ptolemy when he ­repeats 70 Magdalino, The Empire of Manuel i Komnenos, 330–356. See also Lynn Thorndike, “Relation between Byzantine and Western Science and Pseudo-Science before 1350,” Janus 51 (1964), 27. 71 Ephraem Aenius, Historia Chronica, ed. Odysseus Lampsides, Corpus Fontium Historiae Byzantinae. Series Athenienis 27 (Athens, 1990), v7711–7712, v8159. 72 Van Tricht, “Robert of Courtenay,” 1029–1031.

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the crucial tenet of the astrological science (namely that the celestial ­bodies affect the sublunary world), referring to him as the one “qui plus estudia ­profondement et soutilla plus que philosophes de son tens.”73 Ptolemy’s preeminence may be explained by the Byzantine context within which our author was working. In the West, where Ptolemy’s main works—the Almagest and the Tetrabiblos—were introduced through 12th-century Latin translations, his ­influence, while important, was not as preponderant as it was in Byzantium. The early 14th-century scholar and chronicler Nikephoros Gregoras for instance remarked that Latin scholars made little use of Ptolemy in either of two parts (astronomy and astrology), but rather put their faith in “the ­moderns” (meaning authors such as Masha’allah and Abu Maʿshar).74 While discussing Western influences I have already briefly noted that our author was familiar with Ptolemy’s Handy Tables. With explicit reference to Ptolemy he correctly cites the Greek astronomer’s extremal latitudes of the planet Venus (8° 56’).75 In the mid-13th century Ptolemy’s astronomical tables were only very partially available in the West. In the 6th century a Latin translation and reworking of Theon of Alexandria’s “Little commentary” (4th century) on Ptolemy’s tables was made (known as the Preceptum canonis Ptolomei), but this text was incomplete in that the surviving copies include only some of the tables. David Pingree in his edition lists six incomplete manuscripts (between 1000 and 1250), which all derive from a single defective copy of the original text. The table containing the extremal latitudes of Venus is not mentioned in the Latin version, neither in the few surviving tables nor in the commentary (which includes many references to the tables).76 The astronomical tables used in the West were derivatives of the Arabic Toledan tables (themselves derived from Ptolemy’s tables), such as the tables of Marseille by Raymond of Marseille (before 1140), the Latin translation of the Arabic Toledan tables 73 74

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BnF, fr. 1353, f. 62vb (=Appendix 3, Ch. 189, §2, “who studied this more profoundly and applied himself more to this than any other philosopher of his time”). See also the references in notes 20–24. Anne Tihon, “Astrological Promenade in Byzantium in the Early Palaiologan Period,” in Paul Magdalino and Maria Mavroudi, eds., The Occult Sciences in Byzantium (Paris, 2006), 265. On Ptolemy’s influence on Byzantine astronomy/astrology: Paul Magdalino, “The Byzantine Reception of Classical Astrology,” in Catherine Holmes and Judith Waring, eds., Literacy, education and manuscript transmission in Byzantium and beyond, (Leiden, 2002), 38. Nevertheless around 1190 theologian Alain of Lille, though no astronomer himself, in his Anticlaudianus considered Ptolemy to be thé authority on astronomy (and Abu Maʿshar on astrology): Vicente Garcia, “Una nueva filosofía de la astrología en los siglos xii y xiii,” 251. See references in note 23. David Pingree, ed., Preceptum Canonis Ptolomei, Corpus des astronomes byzantins 8 (Louvain-La-Neuve, 1997). See also Boudet, Entre science et nigromance, 38, 44–46.

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by Gerard of Cremona (2nd half 12th century), the Alfonsine revision of the Toledan tables (1250s), or the tables of Mechelen/Malines (circa 1285–95). But none of these tables contains the value of 8° 56’ with regard to the extremal latitudes of Venus; they all give different values. Nor does John of Sevilla’s Latin translation of Abu Maʿshar’s Introductorium Maius, a source our author used abundantly, contain this value.77 It follows that our author’s knowledge of Venus’ extremal latitudes cannot stem from either the Preceptum, the Western tables, or the said Introductorium Maius. This makes it quite probable that our author was familiar with the original Greek version of Ptolemy’s tables, which he either consulted directly or through someone with whom he collaborated. Ptolemy’s Handy Tables are not the only example of a source in Greek that appears to have been used by our author. In a passage discussing the astronomical concept of application, our author cites the following example: si uns sers ou uns prisons s’en fuit et l’en trueve l’application de lonc et de lé si que la Lune s’aproche et arrive a Jupiter del lonc et a Mars del lé, ou la converse a Jupiter del lé et a Mars del lonc, ele rameine celui qui s’en fuit. Et le applications qu’ele a a Jupiter oste et tolt la paor que li sers n’a garde de son segnor, aincois li pardonera. The two available manuscripts give different versions of the name of the astrological authority to whom this example is attributed: BnF fr. 1353 (13th century) reads Duromes, while BnF fr. 613 (14th century) reads Dimogenes.78 The first version of the name would seem to be a French rendition of Duronius or Doronius, Latin forms of the name—deriving from a confusion in the Arabic spelling of the name—of the well-known hellenistic astrologer, Dorotheus of Sidon (1st century ad). This Dorotheus is one of the nine so-called judges in a compilatory work used by our author, the Liber novem iudicum. This text contains various chapters on fugitive slaves, some of them ascribed to Dorotheus, but none relate 77

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See a comparative table in José Chabas and Bernard R. Goldstein, eds., The Alfonsine Tables of Toledo, Archimedes. New Studies in the History and Philosophy of Science and Technology (Dordrecht, 2003), 164–165. See on the use of astronomical tables in the Latin West in general: Boudet, Entre science et nigromance, 44–46; Abu Maʿsar al-Balhi, Liber introductorii maioris, passim. BnF, fr. 1353, f. 43ra (=Appendix 3, Ch. 126, §3, “if a serf or a prisoner escapes and one establishes complete application in this way that the Moon approaches and arrives at Jupiter longitudinally and at Mars latitudinally, or the other way around at Jupiter latitudinally and at Mars longitudinally, it returns [or: tortures] the one who escapes. And the application which it has regarding Jupiter takes away and removes the fear that the serf guards himself against his lord, and so he will pardon him”). BnF, fr. 613, f. 115vb.

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to the example given in the Introductoire.79 Dorotheus’ Carmen Astrologicum however does contain such a passage. The Carmen’s original Greek version has not been preserved, but we have at our disposal an Arabic translation (around 800) of the entire work from an earlier Persian translation. Apart from that, large fragments of Dorotheus’ poem have been preserved in various later Greek astrological works, most importantly in Hephaestios of Thebe’s Apotelesmatika. In Latin only a few short fragments have been preserved, for example in the compilatory Liber Hermetis, which according to David Pingree was translated into Latin from Greek in the 13th century. The relevant passage is to be found in both the Arabic translation and Hephaestios’ work, but to my knowledge no Latin version is known.80 The Arabic version runs as follows: If the Moon conjoins with Mars in longitude, then beating and imprisonment will reach the runaway at that hour in this running away of his. If the Moon is conjoining with Jupiter in latitude while Jupiter aspects Mars, then it indicates that misfortune will reach the runaway because of the Moon’s conjoining with Mars and fear of death will be immoderate in him, but he will escape from this death because of Jupiter’s aspect of the Moon.81 Hephaestios’ version describes similar astronomical constellations (though more succinctly), with the first one causing the fugitive slave to suffer the whip and torture, and the second causing him mortal fear and danger, but with Jupiter removing him from evil.82 Essentially, both these passages and the example in the Introductoire tell an identical story: the Moon, Mars, and Jupiter are the planets involved; the longitude (lonc) and latitude (lé) are prominent astronomical elements; a fugitive slave meets a fate involving fear, torture, and capture (the verb rameiner can mean both “to return to” (in this case to his master) and “to torture”), but Jupiter nevertheless brings some measure of relief (either escape from death, removal from evil, or relief from fear combined with pardon by his lord).

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See references in note 15. Dorotheus Sidonius, Carmen Astrologicum, ed. David Pingree, Bibliotheca Scriptorum Graecorum et Romanorum Teubneriana (Leipzig, 1976), xii–xiii. On the differences between Dorotheus’ astrological poem and the passages in the Liber novem iudicum attributed to him: Burnett, “The Hidden Preface in the Liber novem iudicum,” 102. Dorotheus Sidonius, Carmen Astrologicum, v, §36, 310. Dorotheus Sidonius, Carmen Astrologicum, 416.

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In spite of the minor variations between the three versions, it would seem safe to conclude that our author based himself on a version of Dorotheus’ work for the passage in question. Since this text was, as far as I can tell, apparently not available in Latin and it may thus be tentatively assumed that it was not known in the West (although it of course cannot entirely be excluded that a Latin version of the fragment may have existed), and since it is unlikely that our author would have used the Arabic translation (there is no indication that our author knew this language), it follows—also given the partially Byzantine context within which he was working—that our author may well have used a Greek version, either Dorotheus’ original text or a later adaptation, such as the one by Hephaestios. In the 12th century, Byzantine intellectuals, among them poet John Tzetzes and scholar and archbishop of Philippopolis Michael Italos, were familiar with Dorotheus’ writings. That our author in his treatise used a name (Duromes) derived from the Latin name (Duronius or Doronius), rather than one derived from the Greek Dorotheos, need not be problematic. Our author may well have realized that Dorotheos of Sidon and the Duronius/Doronius in Latin translations of Arabic astrological texts—for example Hugo of Santalla’s Liber Aristotilis (first half 12th century), which includes a list of Dorotheus’ works, including the Carmen Astrologicum—were in fact one and the same person. And since he wrote with a Western audience in mind he may have preferred to use a name perhaps more familiar.83 At the beginning of his treatment of planetary motion our author relates a difference of opinion between Plato and Aristotle. Halfway through his presentation of the arguments of both philosophers he sums up the debate as follows: “einsi disoit Aristote contre le opinion Platon qui disoit que lor naturels movement estoit contre le firmament et disoit que tuit li planete estoient d’une mesmes legerete et d’une meesmes isnelete.”84 So Plato (followed by autres plusors philosophes) is said to believe that the movement of the planets is contrary to the movement of the firmament and that all the planets move with identical speed, while Aristotle in both matters would have been of the contrary opinion. Several of our author’s known sources give one or both opinions for these matters, for example Pliny the Elder, Martianus Capella, Macrobius, and William of Conches. However, the hypothesis concerning the planets 83 84

Dorotheus Sidonius, Carmen Astrologicum, xiii–xiv and 436–437. Hugo of Santalla, The Liber Aristotilis, ed. Charles Burnett and David Pingree, Warburg Institute Surveys and Texts 26 (London, 1997), 4, 15. BnF, fr. 1353, f. 25va-f. 25vb (=Appendix 3, Ch. 86, §7, “this is what Aristotle said against the opinion of Plato, who said that their natural movement was opposite to the movement of the firmament and who also said that all the planets have the same lightness and the same speed”).

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moving with the same speed is only to be found in Macrobius’ Commentarii in somnium Scipionis and it does not contain the attribution of this hypothesis to Plato: “omnium quidem par celeritas and constitit enim nullam inter eas clerius ceteris tardiusve procedere.”85 Plato’s own Timaeus, which our author probably knew through Calcidius’ partial Latin translation, certainly cannot have served as a source: in this text Plato explicitly posits that Venus, Mercury, and the Sun move at identical speed, while the other planets move at different speeds.86 Mireille Armisen-Marchetti, in her edition of Macrobius’ Commentarii, observes that the attribution of this thesis to Plato is to be found in Simplikios’ commentary (6th century) on Aristotle’s De caelo.87 This is true in the sense that Simplikios states that Plato was of the opinion that the motion of all the planets is circular, uniform, and regular.88 In combination with Macrobius’ text this could easily be interpreted as meaning that all planets move with identical speed. In no other classical or medieval text have I found the attribution of this thesis to Plato. It follows that our author may well have consulted Simplikios’ work. Simplikios’ commentaries on Aristotle’s writings were still being read in 12th/13th–century Byzantine intellectual circles.89 In the West around this time two translations of Simplikios’ commentary on De caelo were made into Latin. The first, partial one—containing the passage in question—was made by theologian Robert Grosseteste (†1253), bishop of Lincoln. It was composed certainly after 1235 and probably even after 1247. The translation was not widely disseminated.90 This leaves little room for the possibility that our author, who was based at the imperial court far away in Constantinople (although he may have accompanied Baldwin ii on one of his voyages to the West), consulted Grosseteste’s translation. It is also likely that Grosseteste obtained his copy of a Greek manuscript of Simplikios’ 85 Macrobius, Commentaire au songe de Scipion, lib. 1, §14/26, 84 (“an equal speed for all”) and §21/5, 123 (“it is so that none of them moves faster or slower than the others”). 86 Calcidius, Commentaire au Timée de Platon, 1:1, §36d, §38c-d, §39a-b, 168–171. 87 Macrobius, Commentaire au songe de Scipion, 196 (n. 459). 88 Alan C. Bowen, Simplicius on the planets and their motions: in defense of a heresy, Philosophia antiqua 133 (Leiden, 2013), 136. 89 See various contributions in Ilsetraut Hadot, ed., Simplicius. Sa via, son oeuvre, sa survie. Actes du Colloque International de Paris (28 Sept–1 Oct. 1985), Peripatoi. Philologisch-Historische Studien zum Aristotelismus 15 (Berlin, 1987). See also Elizabeth Jeffreys, John F. Haldon, Robin Cormack, eds., The Oxford Handbook of Byzantine Studies (Oxford, 2008), 717–718. 90 Fernand Bossier, “Traductions latines et influences du commentaire In de caelo en Occident (XIIIe–XIVe s.),” in Ilsetraut Hadot, ed., Simplicius. Sa via, son oeuvre, sa survie. Actes du Colloque International de Paris (28 Sept–1 Oct. 1985), Peripatoi. Philologisch-Historische Studien zum Aristotelismus 15 (Berlin, 1987), 289–293. James A. Weisheipl, “The Commentary of Saint Thomas on the De caelo of Aristotle,” Sapientia 19 (1974) 11–13.

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commentary from Latin Romania, quite possibly from Constantinople itself. Grosseteste actively acquired various Greek manuscripts from the region. It might then have been the case that our author, or another member of the Constantinopolitan scholarly milieu with whom our author collaborated, informed Grosseteste’s agent of the work. The second translation also has a connection with Latin Romania. It was completed in 1271 by William of Moerbeke, but already around 1265–66 he had translated a fragment which was subsequently used by Thomas of Aquino.91 Before 1261 the Dominican scholar must have sojourned or lived in Constantinople for at least some period of time. Here the timeframe clearly contradicts the idea that our author, who in my opinion wrote around 1260, might have used William’s translation. But the fact that both authors—contemporaries and one-time Constantinopolitans— appear to have been familiar with Simplikios’ commentary might be taken as an indication that they were acquainted with each other. In any case, if the cited passage reflects a knowledge of Simplikios’ commentary, we should conclude that our author—or collaborator—probably consulted the Greek text. A fourth passage likewise may be taken to suggest the use of a Greek source. Near the end of the treatise our author introduces his version of Sahl ibn Bisr’s Quinquaginta Precepta as follows: quar si cum dist Hermocrates quant le edifices est faiz de si grant matire et de tante maniere cum l’en a assemblee et il covient assez remanoir de la matire, mult doit estre loez cil qui tant de matire et si grant habundance assembla por faire cel edifice, mes plus doit estre loez li maistres ovriers et li maistres engignierres qui entre tantes choses et de tant matire sot eslire les mellors choses et les plus necessaires a faire le oevre.92 The attribution of this statement to one Hermocrates presents us with a puzzle. A first problem is that our second (later) manuscript of the Introductoire attributes this passage to Hermes.93 No doubt the Greco-Roman mythical deity 91

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Bossier, “Traductions latines et influences du commentaire In de caelo,” 298–306. Weisheipl, “The Commentary of Saint Thomas on the De caelo of Aristotle,” 38–39. Peter of Auvergne, Questions on Aristotle’s De Caelo. A critical edition with an interpretative essay, ed. Griet Galle, Ancient and Medieval Philosophy 1 (Leuven, 2003), 29–30. BnF, fr. 1353, f. 59rb-f. 59va (=Appendix 3, Ch. 186, §2, “because as Hermocrates says when the building is made of so many materials in so many modes as have been assembled, and it happens that some of the materials remain, then he who assembled that many materials and such abundance in order to make this building must be praised, but even more to be praised is the master-worker and the master-engineer who among so many things and so many materials knew to select the best things and those most necessary to complete the work”). BnF, fr. 613, f. 128ra.

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Hermes Trismegistos is meant, a popular classical and medieval astrological authority, which our author cites twice in his work (once as Termegistres and a second time as Hermes).94 However, in the entire Corpus Hermeticum or affiliated texts such as the Centiloquium Hermetis there seems to not be a single passage that even remotely resembles the cited fragment.95 It seems preferable, therefore, to opt for the lectio difficilior of the earlier manuscript, because the later copyist probably substituted an unfamiliar author (Hermocrates) with a familiar astrological authority with a similar name (Hermes), who is also cited elsewhere in the treatise. Many centuries later we are faced with the same problem who this Hermocrates might be. The only “Hermocrates” that a Western medieval scholar having no access to Greek material may have known, is the eponymous character in Plato’s Timaeus, the only dialogue available in Latin translation during the early and high Middle Ages. Unfortunately, this Hermocrates does not contribute much to the discussion and does not say anything resembling the quoted passage.96 When we include material that at the time was only available in Greek our problem remains unsolved. Plato’s character is also featured in the Critias, but again this dialogue (a sequel to the Timaeus generally considered to be unfinished or incomplete) contains no passage resembling the one in question.97 Plato’s Hermocrates character is presumed to be identified with a historical person, the famed Syracusan general Hermocrates of Syracuse (5th century bc). References to his feats of arms and several speeches have been recorded by various classical Greek historians (Thucydides, Xenophon, Plutarchus, Polyaenus, 94

BnF, fr. 1353, f. 7 rb and f. 52vb (for the first reference see also Dörr, Der älteste Astronomietraktat, §1, 31). These passages would seem to loosely refer to various precepts in the Centiloquium attributed to Hermes Trismegistos, a text that was translated into Latin (from an Arabic or Greek version) only around 1258–1266 at the court of Manfred of Sicily (Matthias Heiduk, “Sternenkunde am Stauferhof. Das ‘Centiloquium Hermetis’ im Kontext höfischer Übersetzungstätigkeit und Wissensaneignung,” in Heinz Kriega and Alfons Zettler, eds., In frumento et vino optima. Festschrift für Thomas Zotz zu seinem 60. Geburtstag (Ostfildern, 2004), 267–274). Although close diplomatic contacts existed from 1258 on between Baldwin ii and Manfred (continued after 1261), which may provide a context within which our author became acquainted with the Latin Centiloquium, it is of course also possible that he became familiar with this text through a Greek version. On the contacts between Baldwin ii and Manfred: see references in Chapter 4, notes 33–34. 95 See the comprehensive compilation and English translation of trismegistic literature: George R. Mead, Thrice-Greatest Hermes, 3 vols, Studies in Hellenistic Theosophy and Gnosis (London, 1906). 96 Calcidius, Commentaire au Timée de Platon, §20c-d. 97 Plato, Timaeus and Critias, trans. Robin Waterfield, Oxford World’s Classics (Oxford, 2008), §108a.

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Polybius, Appianus, Diodorus Siculus), but in none of these works anything resembling the cited passage can be found.98 The Syracusan general also features in a 2nd–century Greek novel entitled Chaireas and Callirhoe by Chariton of Aphrodisias. But this work, which has been preserved only in a single 13thcentury manuscript, does not contain anything like the cited passage either.99 A number of other people named Hermocrates are briefly attested in classical and early Christian sources (for example a physician in Martialis’ epigrams, a patient in Hippocrates’ De morbis popularibus, the sophist Hermocrates of Phokaia mentioned by Philostratus, and martyr Hermocrates of Nicomedia), but again none of them can be linked to the quoted fragment. Only one option remains (assuming that our anonymous did not simply invent the passage and attribution, a supposition for which there would appear to be no ground whatsoever): our author consulted a text that has not been preserved, written by (or attributed to) a certain Hermocrates or featuring a character of the same name. This could have been a pseudo-Platonic dialogue, which recuperated a marginal character in two of Plato’s authentic dialogues. A more spectacular hypothesis would be that the fragment was adopted from an authentic Platonic dialogue. Actually, the Timaeus and Critias are widely seen as the first two parts of a trilogy that Plato envisioned, the last part of which would have featured Hermocrates as the main protagonist. Given that no other possible reference to such a dialogue appears to exist (leading to a scholarly consensus that it was never written), such a hypothesis must be considered as tantalizing yet improbable.100 98 Thucydides, La guerre du Péloponnèse, ed. and trans. Jacqueline De Romilly, Louis Bodin, and Raymond Weil, 5 vols, Collection des universités de France (Paris, 1953–1972). Xenophon, Hellenika. Griechisch-deutsch, ed. Gisela Strasburger, Sammlung Tusculum (Düsseldorf, 2000). Polybius, Historiae, ed. and trans. William R. Patton, Franck W. Walbank, and Christian Habicht, 5 vols, Loeb Classical Library (London, 2010–2012). Plutarch, Lives, vol. 3, trans. Bernadotte Perrin, Loeb Classical Library (London, 1916). Appianus, Histoire romaine, ed. and trans. Paul Goukowsky, 12 vols, Collection des universités de France (Paris, 1997–2013). Polyaenus, Strategicon. Libri octo, ed. Eduard Von Wölfflin, Bibliotheca scriptorum Graecorum et Romanorum Teubneriana (Leipzig, 1860). Diodorus Siculus, Bibliotheca Historica, trans. Charles H. Oldfather, Loeb Classical Library (London, 1935). 99 Chariton, Callirhoe, ed. and trans. George P. Goold, Loeb Classical Library (Cambridge, 1995). 100 On the projected Hermocrates dialogue: Kenneth Dorter, “‘One, two, three, but where is the fourth?’ Incomplete mediation in the Timaeus,” in Zdravko Planinc, ed., Politics, philosophy, writing: Plato’s art of caring for the souls (Columbia, 2001), 161–163; Diskin Clay, “The Plan of Plato’s Critias,” in Tomás Calvo and Luc Brisson, eds., Interpreting the Timaeus-Critias, International Plato Studies 9 (Sankt Augustin, 1997), 49–54; Jakob Eberz, “Die Bestimmung der von Platon entworfenen Trilogie Timaios, Kritias, Hermokrates,” Philologus 69 (1910) 40–50.

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A fifth fragment that may be based on a Greek source could be the zodiologium, which our author has inserted in his treatise (in its entirety it would seem). Of importance is the attribution of this text to Aristotle (“ci dirons donques del effect de la Lune et de sa puissance second le naturel ordre des signes si cum Aristotes en dist”).101 I have found no Latin zodiologium— describing the influence of the moon according to the 12 zodiacal signs—that matches our fragment. Some are similar but far from identical. Moreover, none of these are attributed to Aristotle. To my knowledge only one Latin text of this nature, edited by Charles Burnett (De luna secundum Aristotilem), is ascribed to the philosopher, but it is somewhat different in character since the moon’s influence in 28 celestial constellations is treated. Additionally, none of the edited Greek zodiologia are (virtually) identical with our fragment. Although no Greek zodiologium seems to be ascribed to Aristotle, there is a lunarium—a closely related genre. Both Burnett and Emanuel Svenberg are of the opinion that all Latin zodiologia can be traced back to Greek prototypes, although they are not exact translations. Our fragment, therefore, is either based on a Latin text that has been lost (or remains to be discovered) or on a Greek one that suffered the same fate. The current state of research does not allow to decide between both hypotheses. Another example of a passage that may be based on a Greek source concerns the anonymous church father known as Pseudo-Dionysius (late 5th century), who presented himself in his works as Dionysius the Areopagite (briefly mentioned in the Acts of the Apostles as having been converted to Christianity by Saint Paul), a misappropriation of identity which was uncritically accepted. The fragment runs as follows: Et ce sot bien li bons clers misires Sainz Denises li Aryopagites qui uncore n’estoit convertiz quant nostres sires Jhesucriz fu crucefiez, quar il estoit en mer en .i. vessel quant nostres sires trespassa et soufri mort por nos que les tenebres furent sour terre. Et Sainz Denises sot porce que la Lune estoit .xiiii.me que li eclipses n’estoit pas naturels, dum nos trovons que il dist ou li sires del monde et des elemenz soeffre ou li element mentent.102 101 BnF, fr. 1353, f. 55rb-f. 55vb (“here we will thus discuss the effect of the Moon and its power according to the natural order of the signs as Aristotle says”). 102 BnF, fr. 1353, f. 31ra (=Appendix 3, Ch. 93, §2, “And this knew well the good cleric my lord Saint Dionysius the Areopagite, who had not yet been converted when our lord Jesus Christ was crucified, because he was at sea aboard a ship when our lord passed away and suffered death so that darkness fell over the earth. And Saint Dionysius knew that the eclipse was not natural because the Moon was only on the fourteenth, and we find this where he says that either the lord of the world and of the elements suffers or the elements lie”).

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This passage displays a clear resemblance to a fragment in the letter by Emperor Manuel i Komnenos written in defence of astrology: Μετὰ δέ τινων χρόνων παραδρομὴν τῶν ἀπὸ τῆς Χριστοῦ ἀναλήψεως ὁ πολὺς τὰ θεῖα Διονύσιος ὁ Ἀρεοπαγίτης οὐκ ἐντεῦθεν ἐποδηγήθη πρός πίστιν; ἐπει γὰρ ἤκουε τοῦ μεγάλου Παύλου ἐν Ἀθήναις διδάσκοντος περὶ τοῦ δι’ ἡμας ἐν σταυρῷ τεθνηκότος Χριστοῦ, καὶ τὸν καιρὸν τοῦ πάθους ἠρώτησε καὶ ἀναποδίσας τὸν Χριστὸν αὐτὸν ἐκεῖνον εῖναι ἐγνώρισε, καθ’ ὃν τὴν παρὰ φύσιν ἑώρα ἔκλειψιν· ἐπιστήμων γὰρ ῆν ὁ ἀνὴρ καὶ ἀκριβῶς ᾔδει ὅτι τέσσαρες καὶ δεκαταίας οὔσης τῆς σελήνης καὶ τοῦ ἡλίου μακρὰν τῶν συνδέσμων τυγχάνοντος οὐδέποτε ἡλιακὴ γίνεται ἔκλειψις, ὁπόταν δὲ συνοδεύῃ τῷ ἡλίῳ ἡ σελήνη καὶ καθ’ ἑνὸς ῇ τῶν συνδέσμων. ἔνθεν τοι καὶ πρός τινα τῶν φίλων αὐτοῦ συνοδοιποροῦντα τῷ τότε αὐτῷ· «ἢ θεὸς πάσχει ἢ υἱὸς θεοῦ καὶ συμπάσχει τῷ πάσχοντι » εἴρηκεν, ῶς ἐκ ἐπιστολῆς μανθάνομεν, εὐθὺς τῷ ἀποστόλῳ πειθήνιος γέγονεν, ἐντεῦθεν αἰσθόμενος ἀληθεύειν τὸν κήρυκα.103 A number of similarities should be noted: a solar eclipse considered to be unnatural; the 14th day of the lunar month as the date of Christ’s crucifixion; the fact that the incident occurred during some journey; Dionysius’ statement that God was suffering; the role the incident played in Dionysius’ conversion. At the same time our author’s text contains a number of elements that are not found in Manuel’s letter or our fragment: the sea and the ship are absent in Manuel’s letter, as well as “the lying of the elements” phrase; Athens, Paul, 103 Manuel Komnenos and Michael Glykas, Disputatio, ed. F. Cumont and F. Boll, in Catalogus Codicum Astrologorum Graecorum 5.1 (Brussels, 1904), 115–116 (“After the passage of some time from the resurrection of Christ, was not the great theologian Dionysius the Areopagite guided toward his faith from these things? When he heard the great Paul teaching in Athens about Christ who had died on the cross for us, he asked the time of the passion, and upon cross-examining him, he recognized that that person was Christ Himself, because based upon the time, he knew that the eclipse was unnatural. For Dionysus the Areopagite was a learned man and accurately knew that a solar eclipse can never take place when the moon is fourteen days past the conjunction with the sun. It only occurs when the moon conjoins the sun and it is located at one of the nodes. For this reason, you know, he even said to one of his friends who was traveling with him at that time, ‘Either God suffers or the son of God also suffers together with he who suffers.’ As we learn from the letter, he immediately became a disciple of the apostle, perceiving from the clearly unnatural eclipse of the sun that the herald was speaking the truth.”). English translation based on George, “Manuel i Komnenos and Michael Glycas: A Twelfth-Century ­Defence and Refutation of Astrology,” 7. On Manuel’s defence of astrology, see references in ­Chapter 2, note 24, and Chapter 3, note 5.

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and the final part of the suffering phrase in Manuel’s letter are absent in our fragment. Manuel states that—at least part of his information derives from a certain letter concerning Dionysius. This can easily be identified: the eclipse incident is indeed recounted in Pseudo-Dionysius’ letter to Polykarpos, bishop of Smyrna.104 This letter states that the author was with his sophist friend Appolophanes near Heliopolis (κατὰ Ἡλιούπολιν—situated on the Nile near present-day Cairo) when together they observed an eclipse which they considered to be supernatural because it was not the appointed time for a conjunction of the sun and moon. Dionysius concluded that only Christ could have been responsible for such a supernatural occurrence. Thus the letter does relate the same incident referred to in Manuel’s letter and in the Introductoire. The κατὰ Ἡλιούπολιν phrase may even explain why the Introductoire states that Dionysius witnessed the eclipse from the sea on a ship, which is not found in Manuel’s letter. The fact that Dionysius went from his hometown Athens to Egypt implied that most probably he had travelled by water and since according to the letter he had not yet arrived at his destination (κατὰ) when the eclipse took place, our author may have assumed that at that time he was still on his ship at sea (perhaps mistakenly assuming that Heliopolis was a coastal city). All other sources concerning Dionysius’ trip to Egypt state that he witnessed the eclipse from Heliopolis itself. Two characteristics in both Manuel’s letter and the Introductoire are conspicuously absent in the letter: the mention of the date (the 14th day of the lunar month) and the phrase about God suffering. The entire Corpus Dionysiacum or commentaries such as the one by Maximos the Confessor (7th century) do not contain this phrase either, but the Enconium Sancti Dionysii written by Michael Synkellos (†846) does—in contrast to the later hagiographical work by Symeon Metaphrastes (late 10th century) or the biographical notice in the Souda (circa 1000): Dionysius while witnessing the eclipse at Heliopolis is to have said that the unknown God was suffering in the flesh, which caused the entire world to be covered in darkness and shaken by earthquakes.105 Synkellos’ Enconium thus would appear to be the source for the God suffering phrase mentioned in Manuel’s letter and in our 104 Dionysius Areopagitae, Opera Omnia, ed. Balthasar Corderius, Patrologia Graeca 3 (Paris, 1857), col. 1081. 105 Michael Synkellos, Encomium Beati Dionysii Areopagitae, ed. Balthasar Corderius, Patrologia Graeca 4 (Paris, 1857), col. 627. For Maximos the Confessor’s commentary on the letter to Polykarpos: ibid., col. 535–543. For the vita by Metaphrastes: Symeon Metaphrastes, Vita et Conversatio Sancti Dionysii Areopagitae, ed. Balthasar Corderius, Patrologia Graeca 4 (Paris, 1857), cols. 589–608. For the biographical notice in the Souda: ed. Balthasar Corderius, De Dionysio Areopagita ex Suida, in Patrologia Graeca 4 (Paris, 1857), cols. 607–612.

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Introductoire. The “ou li element mentent” variation in the Introductoire may likewise derive from a passage a little further in Synkellos’ text where Dionysius is said to have encouraged Polykarpos to challenge Appolophanes to refute the veracity of the phenomenon they had observed together.106 With regard to the identical date for the crucifixion (the 14th) it would seem our author must have based himself on either Manuel’s text or on another Byzantine/Greek source, since it is in the Byzantine tradition that the crucifixion was dated 14 Nisan (after the Gospel of John), while in the Latin West it was dated 15 Nisan (after the synoptic Gospels). The issue was controversial because it was directly related to the issue of the use of leavened or unleavened bread during the Eucharist, which in the wake of the 1054 Schism remained one of the major points of contention between the Roman and Constantinopolitan Churches.107 Our author for the cited passage relating to Saint Dionysius appears to have used the following sources: Manuel’s letter or another Greek/Byzantine source for the date of the crucifixion; Manuel’s letter and/or Synkellos’ Enconium for the “God suffering” phrase; the letter to Polykarpos for the travel-by-waterreference; and one of these three sources for the other elements. Of these texts the letter to Polykarpos had been first translated into Latin circa 838 by the abbot of Saint Denis Hilduinus (as part of the entire Corpus Dionysiacum, a copy of which was donated to the Carolingian emperor Louis the Pious (814–840) by Byzantine emperor Michael ii (820–829)), a second time by John Scot Eriugena in 865, and a third time around 1240–1243 by the bishop of Lincoln Robert Grosseteste.108 The first two translations did not circulate widely and the third was composed only some fifteen years before the Introductoire was written. 106 Michael Synkellos, Encomium Beati Dionysii Areopagitae, col. 630. In relation to the reference to sea and ship in the Introductoire it should briefly be remarked here that like Manuel’s letter Synkellos does not mention travel by sea or ship either. 107 Phillip E. Nothaft, Dating The Passion. The Life of Jesus and the Emergence of Scientific Chronology (200–1600), Time, Astronomy, and Calendars: Texts and Studies (Brill, 2012), 113–189. On the issue of the azymes: Georgij Avvakumov, “Der Azymenstreit–Konflikte und Polemiken um eine Frage des Ritus,” in Peter Bruns and Georg Gresser, eds., Vom Schisma zu den Kreuzzügen: 1054–1204 (Paderborn, 2005), 9–26. 108 Jean Leclercq, “Influence and noninfluence of Dionysius in the Western Middle Ages,” in C. Luidheid and P. Rorem, eds., Pseudo-Dionysius: The Complete Works, The Classics of Western Spirituality (New Jersey, 1987), 25–32. James McEnvoy, Mystical Theology: The Glosses by Thomas Gallus and the Commentary by Robert Grosseteste on De Mystica Theologia. Edition, Translation and introduction, Dallas Medieval Texts and Translations 3 (Leuven, 2003), 56. Cecily J. Hilsdale, “Translatio and Objecthood: The Cultural Agendas of Two Greek Manuscripts at Saint-Denis,” Gesta 56 (2017), 151–178. In general on the Latin translations of Dionysius’ work in the medieval West: Pascal Boulhol, La connaissance de langue grecque dans la France médiévale VIe–XVe s., Textes et documents de la Méditerrannée classique et médiévale (Aix-en-Provence, 2008), 69–77.

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Therefore it is not all that evident that our author would have been acquainted with one of these translations. It would seem just as probable that he used the original Greek version (explicitly referred to in Manuel’s letter). Hilduinus also produced a Latin hagiographical account of Saint Dionysius’ life, called the Areopagitica, but it does not feature the God suffering phrase as a conclusion to the eclipse incident. Instead, an alternative statement is put in the protagonist’s mouth (“haec nox, quam nostris oculis novam descendisse miramur, totius mundi veram lucem adventuram signavit, atque Deum humano generi effulsurum serena dignatione dictavit”).109 In the later 12th century William of London, a monk of Saint Denis, translated Synkellos’ Enconium into Latin, which does contain the God suffering phrase. Parts of this translation were also incorporated in a new vita of Saint Dionysius written around 1230 at the same abbey. These texts, however, did not circulate widely either: before 1300 they are featured in only two 13th–century manuscripts of a compilation of hagiographical materials concerning Saint Dionysius produced at Saint Denis.110 In any case, with regard to the crucifixion date our anonymous must have consulted a Greek source, whether Manuel’s letter (no Latin translation being available) or some alternative source.

109 Hilduinus, Areopagitica, ed. Jean-Paul Migne, Patrologia Latina 106 (Paris, 1864), col. 27 (“this darkness, which we were astonished to watch descending with our own eyes as an exceptional phenomenon, signified that the true light of the entire world would come, and it meant that God would shine for humanity with serene dignity”). 110 Boulhol, La connaissance de langue grecque dans la France médiévale, 73.

Chapter 6

Literature and Sciences in Latin-Byzantine Constantinople Our anonymous treatise in various ways (ideological, linguistical, educational, textual influences) can be considered to be the product of the partially Byzantine context within which it was created. This prompts the question as to how we should imagine Latin-Byzantine interaction in Constantinople in the cultural or intellectual sphere. Our corpus of texts invites an evaluation of how it relates to cultural and intellectual life in Constantinople under the Latin imperial dynasty. Cultural and intellectual life in the Queen of Cities in the period 1204–1261 has traditionally been neglected as a field of study, based on the— implicit or explicit—assumption that after the cataclysmic events of 1204 (also in view of the Latin empire’s dramatic political decline from the mid-1220s on) such life must have been virtually non-existent. However, scattered references in little noticed sources and in modern contributions would seem to suggest that this picture is too bleak. In order to address this question an overview of the known cultural production in Constantinople in the period under consideration—literary, artistic, and scientific—is needed, with a focus on the ethnic-cultural identities of the authors/artists and their (intended) audiences. Also whether these cultural products reflect the ethnic-culturally mixed social environment within which they were produced. This overview is not intended to provide a comprehensive treatment of these individual cultural products, but rather those elements that seem relevant in the context of the present study. Consecutively in this chapter I will treat literature (historical, lyrical, epical, etc.) and the sciences (natural sciences, philosophy, and theology). 1

Historical Literature

To begin with literature, more specifically with historical writing, in this period in Constantinople a number of remarkable works were produced, the chronicles by imperial marshal Geoffrey of Villehardouin (La conquête de Constantinople, covering the years 1198–1207 and composed around 1207) and by imperial cleric Henry of Valenciennes (Histoire de l’empereur Henri de Constantinople, for the period 1208–1209, written around 1209). These, together © koninklijke brill nv, leiden, ���9 | doi:10.1163/9789004383180_008

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with Robert of Clari’s La conquête de Constantinople (likewise an eyewitness account, written around 1205—with an appendix added in 1216 after the author’s return to his home region), are the first known original historical accounts written in French prose. This literary phenomenon may perhaps partly be explained by the Byzantine context these chroniclers were confronted with. At about the same time French prose also started to be used in translations of classical and medieval historical works originally written in Latin (or French verse). The earliest such works are several translations of the so-called PseudoTurpin. One version was written by Nicolas of Senlis and commissioned by Yolande of Hainaut, Emperor Baldwin i’s aunt—married to count Hugo iv of Saint-Pol (†1205), one of the Fourth Crusade’s principal leaders)—tentatively dated to the opening years of the 13th century (1200–1205), although Yolande’s date of death is unrecorded;1 another version written in 1206 was dedicated to Renaud of Dammartin, count of Boulogne, who had knighted Emperor Henry. Other works were the world history entitled Histoire Ancienne jusqu’à César (written around 1208–1230 and dedicated to Roger iv of Fresnes, viscount of Lille, who was married to Clémence of Armentières, who belonged to a family attested in Emperor Henry’s entourage), the anonymous Faits des Romains (written around 1213–1214 by an author from the region of the Île-de-France), and the Histoire de Jules César by Jean of Thuin (a town and castle in the princebishopric of Liège, where as young boys emperors Baldwin i and Henry had found safe haven in a time of war) around 1215–1235.2 Before 1200, as for French vernacular, verse had been the means of expression for historical content, while vernacular prose—although Latin was the primary means of the written word—was reserved for juridical texts, charters, 1 Yolande had obtained a Latin version of the Pseudo-Turpin at the death of her brother count Baldwin v/viii of Hainaut/Flanders in 1195 with the request que par amor de lui gardast le livre cum ele vivroit (“that she would keep the book as long as she lived because of the love for him”). Nicolas of Senlis in the introduction to his translation then goes on to say that la bone comtesse ha gardé le livre jusqu’a ore (“the good countess has kept the book until now”), a phrase that would seem to indicate that Yolande had conserved the Latin manuscript for a rather long time before she commissioned the translation, which makes a date after 1205 very well possible (Hamilton M. Smyser, ed., The Pseudo-Turpin (Cambridge, 1937), 8). 2 Gabrielle M. Spiegel, “The Textualization of the Past in French Historical Writing,” in Elizabeth Morrison and Anne D. Hedeman, eds., Imagining the Past in France. History in Manuscript Painting, 1250–1500 (Los Angeles, 2010), 46. Catherine Croizy-Naquet, “L’histoire ancienne jusqu’à César, les Faits des Romains. Entre sermon et chronique, entre histoire et roman,” in Pierre Nobel, ed., Réception de l’Antiquité, Textes et cultures: réception, modèles, ­interférences (Besançon, 2004), 103–118. Silvère Menegaldo, “César ‘d’ire enflamez et espris’ (v. 1696) dans le Roman de Jules César de Jean de Thuin,” Cahiers de Recherches mediévales et humanistes 13 (2006), 59. Van Tricht, “De jongelingenjaren van een keizer van ­Konstantinopel,” 190.

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biblical translations, and homiletic works. Gabrielle Spiegel has proposed the interesting theory that these earliest histories in French prose reflect an effort by the anti-royalist Franco-Flemish aristocracy of feudal princes and barons, who patronized these works, to redeem the present, with its threat of rising royal power by means of a revitalized past. The innovative use of prose would have been motivated by a desire to underscore the veracity and authority of these historical narratives (and of their anti-royalist message). Spiegel, however, chose to omit the chronicles by Villehardouin, Clari, and Valenciennes from her analysis because these texts give accounts of primarily military deeds performed in distant lands.3 Her choice is unfortunate since her theory fails to apply to these original works. In particular Clari and Valenciennes display no anti-royalist tendencies. On the contrary, Clari—who considered himself one of the “poor knights”— is critical of the feudal barons and princes, while Valenciennes’ text, as an unambiguous panegyric of Emperor Henry, advocates firm imperial authority. Recently Noah Guynn has attempted unconvincingly to extend Spiegel’s conclusions to Villehardouin’s chronicle by ascribing anti-monarchical views to it.4 The author sees Villehardouin’s account of the power struggle between Emperor Baldwin i and marquis Boniface of Montferrat over Thessaloniki as mirroring the conflicts between the French king and his aristocratic rivals. Villehardouin, however, never takes sides in the conflict, in fact attributing the blame for the discord to both parties (“cum malvais conseil orent et li uns et li autres”).5

3 Gabrielle M. Spiegel, Romancing the Past. The Rise of Venacular Prose Historiography in Thirteenth Century France, The New Historicism 23 (Berkeley, 1993), 3–6. Gillette Labory, “Les débuts de la chronique en français (XIIe–XIIIe siècles),” in Erik Kooper, ed., The Medieval Chronicle iii. Proceedings of the 3rd International Conference on the Medieval Chronicle (­Amsterdam, 2004), 1–26. 4 Jean Dufournet, “Robert de Clari, Villehardouin et Henri de Valenciennes, juges de l’empereur Henri de Constantinople. De l’histoire à la légende,” in Mélanges Jeanne Lods. Du moyen âge au XXe siècle, Collection de l’Ecole Normale Supérieure de Jeunes Filles 10 (Paris, 1978), 183–202. Peter Noble, “The importance of old French chronicles as historical sources of the Fourth Crusade and the early Latin Empire of Constantinople,” Journal of Medieval History 27 (2001) 399–416. Noah D. Guynn, “Rhetoric and historiography: Villehardouin’s La Conquête de Constantinople,” in William Burgwinkle, Nicholas Hammonde, and Emma Wilson, eds., The Cambridge History of French Literature (Cambridge, 2011), 102–110. 5 Geoffroy de Villehardouin, La conquête de Constantinople, §277–299 (“since both sides received bad counsel”). Villehardouin is critical of both Baldwin (for ignoring the marquis’ request to let him first take possession of his fief Thessaloniki alone) and Boniface (for his subsequent military attack against the emperor’s possessions because of this). On this conflict, see Madden, “The Latin Empire of Constantinople’s Fractured Foundation,” 45–52.

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While the decision to use prose by Villehardouin, Clari, and Valenciennes cannot be seen in the context of an anti-monarchical attempt to reclaim the present through historical literature, Cyril Aslanov has argued convincingly that for these “crusader chronicles” the attempt to support the veracity and authority of their vernacular accounts partially explains their innovative choice. Aslanov’s second explanation for the use of prose in these chronicles is far more interesting: he suggests that in Constantinople their confrontation with the Byzantine historiographical tradition—with its general use of prose and a version of the spoken tongue (diglossia in Byzantium versus bilingualism in France)—inspired their choice. This ties in well with Sharon Kinoshita’s observation, with regard to Clari’s chronicle, that the chronicler’s innovative choices stem from the “lived experience of the crusade”—causing the reshuffling of convential categories.6 Among the ranks of the crusaders several men with an interest in culture and, more specifically, in literature and historiography are clearly attested. For example, the Emperor Baldwin i and Henry’s father, count Baldwin v/viii of Flanders/Hainaut, had commissioned a copy to be made of the Latin ­Pseudo-Turpin chronicle, a biography of Charlemagne (and as mentioned later translated into French at the request of his sister Yolande).7 Baldwin i is credited with commissioning a world history by the early 14th-century chronicler Jacques of Guise, and Jean Renart’s romance L’Escoufle, written around 1200 and dedicated to el gentil conte en Hainaut (“the noble count of Hainaut”), was probably written under his patronage.8 One of Baldwin and Henry’s most important dignitaries (and relative), protovestiarios, later sebastokrator, and regent, Cono i of Béthune, was a famed trouvère, with at least one of his songs containing references to classical history (L’autrier avint en chel autre païs, with references to both Troy and Carthage). The crusade’s formal top commander and later lord of ­Thessaloniki, marquis Boniface of Montferrat, was also a cultured man, who had in his entourage several poets.9 6 Aslanov, “Aux sources de la chronique en prose française,” 143–165. Sharon Kinoshita, Medieval Boundaries: Rethinking Difference in Old French Literature (Philadelphia, 2006), 142–144. 7 Adalbert Hämel, “Die Entstehungszeit der Aachener Vita Karoli magni und der PseudoTurpin,” Quellen und Forschungen aus italienischen Archiven und Bibliotheken 32 (1942), 243–253. Jean-François Nieus, Un pouvoir comtal entre Flandre et France: Saint-Pol, 1100–1300 (Bruxelles, 2005), 139. 8 Wolff, “Baldwin of Flanders and Hainaut, First Latin Emperor of Constantinople,” 285–296. Olivier Collet, “Littérature, histoire, pouvoir, mécénat: la cour de Flandre au XIIIe siècle,” Médiévales 38 (2000), 102–103. Jean de Renart, Le Roman de la Rose ou de Guillaume de Dole, trans. Jean Dufournet, Champions classiques. Série “Moyen âge,” Editions bilingues 24 (Paris, 2008), 13. 9 Cono de Béthune, Les chansons de Conon de Béthune, ed. Axel Wallensköld, Les classiques français du moyen âge 24 (Paris, 1921), 17–18. Paolo Repetto, “I trovatori alla corte di Bonifacio

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That such men would have shown an interest in Byzantine history and historiography, influencing their own works is rather likely. It is certainly manifest in Clari’s chronicle, which contains a long section on Byzantine history, including the reigns of the emperors Manuel i Komnenos (1143–1180), Andronikos i Komnenos (1182–1185), Isaac ii Angelos (1185–1195), and Alexios iii Angelos ­(1195–1203). The sometimes fanciful nature of his account indicates, however, that the chronicler probably relied on oral sources for his information.10 Valenciennes does not integrate sections of Byzantine history into his work; in one passage, however, he does—in line with Byzantine historiographical practice— stress continuity with classical antiquity by subtly picturing his hero as the successor to both the Macedonian king Alexander the Great and the R ­ oman rulers Gnaeus Pompeius Magnus and Julius Caesar.11 Villehardouin does not refer to Byzantine history (at least to the period before Alexios iii), but that he was interested in historical writings is attested to by Valenciennes, who portrays him as referring to the “preudomes anciiens ki devant nous ont esté ki encore sont ramenteu es livres des estores” in his speech to the imperial army before engaging the Bulgarian tsar Boril (1207–1218) near Philippopolis in 1208.12 With regard to Valenciennes and Villehardouin, as imperial courtiers or dignitaries and as having been members of the immediate entourage of the crusade leaders, they well may have known for example Niketas Choniates, who remained in service as logothetes ton sekreton after the re-establishment of Isaac ii, together with his son Alexios iv, in 1203. During this period Villehardouin served several times as the crusader army’s messenger to the i­mperial court and on one occasion mentions the presence of Isaac ii’s chancelier

10 11

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I di Monferrato,” Rivista di Storia Arte Archeologia per le Province di Alessandria e Asti 109 (2000) 153–161. Robert de Clari, La Conquête de Constantinople, §18–28. Henri de Valenciennes, Histoire de l’empereur Henri de Constantinople, §570. On account of Emperor Henry’s passage through the val de Philippe en route to Thessaloniki in late 1208 Valenciennes narrates that the valley was named after King Philip of Macedonia, that Alexander the Great was born there, and that this was also the place where Pompeius defeated Caesar. This last element may cause modern historians to frown, since Pompeius and Caesar never fought a battle near Philippi and it was of course Caesar who eventually defeated Pompeius. But Valenciennes’ mistakes can be explained: Pompeius did defeat Caesar at Dyrrachion, shortly before the final battle, and a number of Roman authors— for example Lucan in his Pharsalia, a popular work also in medieval times—do situate their ultimate confrontation at Philippi, instead of Pharsalos (Timothy A. Joseph, Tacitus the Epic Successor: Virgil, Lucan and the narrative of civil war in the Histories, Mnemosyne. Bibliotheca Classica Batava 345 (Leiden, 2012), 58–62). Henri de Valenciennes, Histoire de l’empereur Henri de Constantinople, §534 (“the valiant men who came before us and who are still remembered in the history books”).

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(at a meeting attended by only this official, the emperor, his interpreter, and the Latin messengers). Since the Western cancellarius and the Byzantine logothetes ton sekreton can be equated (both seen as a sort of “chief minister”), it seems safe to identify him with Choniates. Also, in 1206 Choniates returned to Constantinople from Salymbria and lived there for six months, before eventually moving to Nicaea. The former logothetes seems to have tried to obtain a position at the Latin emperor’s court, as he would later (also unsuccessfully) at that of Theodore i Laskaris. In this context he may have (again) met—or possibly approached—Villehardouin. Choniates likewise references Villehardouin as the powerful Latin mariskalkos. Through Choniates, or Byzantine officials and magnates who managed to enter the service of the Latin emperor (like Constantine Tornikes and Theodore Branas, feudal lord of Adrianople), Villehardouin and Valenciennes may have acquainted themselves with Byzantine historiography and—in Villehardouin’s case—with a tradition of lay authorship in historical writing.13 A measure of Byzantine influence (prose, vernacular, lay authorship), although indicating cross-cultural interest and contact, does not mean that we should regard Villehardouin’s and Valenciennes’ work as “Byzantine chronicles.” Only very few Byzantines would have been able to consult their works since they were written in French. There are no traces of a Greek translation ever having been made (as in the case of the Chronicle of Morea, although the question of the priority of the French or Greek versions is still much debated). Even if on occasion these texts might have been recited with simultaneous Greek translation at the mixed Latin-Byzantine imperial court, the Byzantine audience reached would have been very limited. Both Villehardouin and Valenciennes clearly wrote their chronicle primarily for French-speaking audiences. Probably not only for the Constantinopolitan French-speaking elite, but also for members of their social class in their home regions. Legitimizing the Fourth Crusade and the conquest of Constantinople appears to have been Villehardouin’s prime concern, while Valenciennes’ panegyric seems—as Jean Longnon argued—in part to have been written to promote Western emigration to Romania.14 Apart from the question of language, Villehardouin’s and Valenciennes’ general outlook regarding the identity of the empire and its subjects is not very 13

14

Geoffroy de Villehardouin, La conquête de Constantinople, §186. Niketas Choniates, Historia, ed. Jean-Louis van Dieten, Corpus Fontium Historiae Bizantinae. Series Berolinensis 11 (Berlin, 1975), 2:643. Alicia Simpson, Niketas Choniates. A Historiographical study (­Oxford, 2013), 19–21. Peter Noble, “Villehardouin, Robert de Clari and Henri de Valenciennes. Their different approaches to the Fourth Crusade,” in Eric Kooper, ed., The Medieval Chronicle. Proceedings of the 1st International Conference on the Medieval Chronicle, Costerus New Series 120 (Amsterdam, 1999), 202–211. Henri de Valenciennes, Histoire de l’empereur Henri de ­Constantinople, 9–11.

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Byzantine at first sight. Although Valenciennes implicitly, and cautiously, appears to picture the lands of empereour de Constantinoble Henry, successor to Pompeius and Caesar, as the Roman empire, he calls its Greek subjects ­Grifons (and not Romaioi as they referred to themselves). Villehardouin likewise calls the empire’s subjects Grieu and never explicitly qualifies the empire itself as Roman, though the frequent references to Constantinople—the city of the famed Roman emperor Constantine the Great—naturally must have evoked the Roman imperial legacy in the eyes of both Villehardouin’s and Valenciennes’ audience. This use of traditional Western terminology for the empire or its inhabitants is perhaps to be expected, but it is a problematic issue since in other contexts the empire’s Roman identity was explicitly espoused. In a charter, Villehardouin styled himself Romanorum marescaulus, while the emperors themselves (Baldwin ii as well as his predecessors) also used the title of imperator Romanorum (among others) and referred to their empire as the imperium Romanum.15 This begs the question who or what were Romani in the eyes of Villehardouin. For the Byzantine elite their Roman identity was self-evident, but by 1204 “Romanness” was an ambiguous concept. Gill Page with regard to Byzantine society has drawn attention to the distinction between political Roman identity and ethnic Roman identity. Yannis Stouraitis has argued that until 1204 official Byzantine political/imperial discourse left the concept of Roman identity free of any ethnic connotations. From the perspective of the imperial government anyone—foreigners and provincials (“uneducated” Greeks, Armenians, Bulgarians, Slavs, etc.)—could become Roman by accepting imperial authority, entering imperial service, or identifying with the principles of Roman/­Byzantine imperial rule (a non-static element). Villehardouin and his companions could no doubt relate to such an interpretation of “Romanness,” although they were of the opinion that some aspects of Byzantine imperial rule needed reform. Following this Byzantine concept, which was not dissimilar to some Western conceptions of the term, they probably saw the term Romani (or Romaioi) as a political concept referring to those subjected to or recognizing the authority of the emperor. These subjects included various ethnicities (both before and after 1204), such as Greeks, Bulgarians, Armenians, as well as Latins.16 15

Auguste Longnon, Documents relatifs au comté de Champagne et de Brie 1172–1361, Collection de documents inédits sur l’histoire de France (Paris, 1901), 1:xiii (n. 2). Van Tricht, The Latin Renovatio of Byzantium, 62–82. Our anonymous author also refers to Baldwin ii’s empire as l’empire de Costantinoble, although as seen he possibly used the term Romains in the dedication of his Introductoire to the emperor (BnF, fr. 1353, f. 102va (=Appendix 2, §13)). See also Chapter 2. 16 Gill Page, Being Byzantine: Greek identity before the Ottomans (Cambridge, 2008), 47–50, 69–70. Ioannis Stouraitis, “Roman identity in Byzantium: a critical approach,”

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The particular use of the term Romaioi by part of the Byzantine, mostly Constantinopolitan, elite to exclusively also refer to themselves in an ethnic sense (in order to be a true Roman one needed in addition to the mentioned preconditions to be born a Roman)—a notion of Romanness according to Stouraitis that emerged in the 12th century among members of the literate elite—must have been unacceptable to the new Latin rulers, since it inevitably diminished their own Roman status. Indeed, for Villehardouin and and his companions before 1204 Romani must have been understood in a supranational cultural sense as applying in the first place to themselves. That all Latini were in fact Romani (due to markers such as a shared Latin language and Roman Christian faith) was an opinion circulating in the West by the late 12th century, as for example decretalist Huguccio of Pisa’s commentary on the Decretum Gratiani (circa 1187–1190) attests. The popularity of vernacular literature inspired by ancient antiquity, such as the romans antiques and the renewed interest in classical science and philosophy, must have reinforced such a view. Besides, the nominal (secular) head of the Christian West was of course an imperator Romanorum (as the one in Constantinople), which could be interpreted in the sense that all his nominal subjects had to be members of the orbis Romanus or quite simply Romani. For the anonymous author of the late 11th–century description of Constantinople Anonyme du Tarragonensis (and its late 12th–century copyist) this orbis Romanus was not limited to the West, but obviously included Constantinople and the so-called orientalis regnum (“oriental kingdom”).17 For Western chroniclers writing in a Byzantine context, the use of the term “Roman” was consequently problematic (especially in terms of their audiences). For the sake of clarity for this audience, the easier option was to avoid the term altogether and employ (sub)national categories. Interesting in this respect is that Villehardouin describes Philip of Swabia consistently as roi d’Alemaigne and never as “king of the Romans,” which was his actual title.18 ­ yzantinische Zeitschrift 2014 (107), 213–220. Yannis Stouraitis, “Reinventing Roman EthB nicity in High and Late Medieval Byzantium,” Medieval Worlds. Comparative & Interdisciplinary Studies 5 (2017) 70–94. Anthony Kaldellis opposes Stouraitis’ view, but in my opinion unconvincingly: Anthony Kaldellis, “The Social Scope of Roman Identity in Byzantium: An Evidence-Based Approach,” Byzantina Symmeikta 27 (2017), 173–210. On the Latin restructuring of Byzantium, see references in Chapter 2, note 42. 17 Burkhardt, Mediterranes Kaisertum und imperiale Ordnungen, 70. On the two-(Roman)emperors-problem in the context of the events of 1204: Stelian Brezeanu, “‘Translatio Imperii’ und das Lateinische Kaiserreich von Konstantinopel,” Revue Roumaine d’Histoire 14 (1975), 607–617; idem, “Das Zweikaiserproblem in der ersten Hälfte des 13. Jahrhunderts,” Revue roumaine d’histoire 17 (1978), 249–267; Krijnie N. Ciggaar, “Une description de Constantinople dans le Tarragonensis 55,” Revue des études byzantines 53 (1995), 119, 134. 18 Geoffroy de Villehardouin, La conquête de Constantinople, §70 (“king of Germany”).

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To be noted as well is the rising trend starting in the 12th century of Byzantine Greek intellectuals (in particular in Nicaea) referring to themselves as Hellenoi or Graekoi, a tendency not unrelated to a growing realization that Latins claimed the Roman legacy as well and considered themselves to be Romans as well, which caused these intellectuals to seek other designations to set themselves apart from these Latins. It was also after 1204 in Nicaea that, according to Stouraitis, ethnic connotations were introduced in the imperial discourse on Romanness (to distinguish “true Romans” from others).19 Along with the circumspect use of the term Roman for their intended audience, Villehardouin’s and Valenciennes’ texts contain other Western features, such as the influence of epic tradition and chansons de geste noted by various authors, although according to Peter Noble this should be evaluated as rather slight.20 There are also elements more in line with Byzantine concepts. For example, Valenciennes’ description of Alexios Sthlabos, the Bulgarian ruler of the Rhodopes mountains who in 1208 decided to recognize Emperor Henry’s authority and was granted the emperor’s daughter in marriage, as auques sauvages—which the chronicler attributes to the emperor himself when addressing his daughter about to wedded—relates to the Byzantine topos of qualifying foreigners (or non-ethnic Romaioi) as barbaroi. Indeed, just as barbaros originally meant unintelligible (because speaking another language, hence uncultured/uncivilized), so the qualification of sauvages has to do with the language barrier between Sthlabos and Henry’s daughter (“car vous n’entendés son langage [no doubt the Bulgarian language is meant], ne il ne reset point dou vostre”).21 19

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See, for example, Michael Angold, “Byzantine ‘nationalism’ and the Nicaean empire,” Byzantine and Modern Greek Studies 1 (1975), 49–70; Paraskevas Gounaridis, “‘Grecs,’ ‘Hellènes’ et ‘Romans’ dans l’état de Nicée,” in Vasiles Kremmydas, Chryssa Maltezou, and Nikolaos M. Panagiotakes, eds., Aphieroma ston Niko Svorono (Rethymo, 1986), 1:248–257; Charis Messis, “Lectures sexuees de l’alterite. Les Latins et identite romaine menacée pendant les derniers siecles de Byzance,” Jahrbuch der Österreichischen Byzantinistik 61 (2011), 151–154, 167; Elisabeth Malamut, “De l’empire des Romains à la nation des Hellènes. Evolution identitaire des byzantins de la fin du XIe au XVe siècle,” in Nation et nations au Moyen Âge (Paris, 2014), 165–179. Stouraitis, “Roman identity in Byzantium,” 215–217. Peter Noble, “Epic heroes in thirteenth-century French chroniclers,” in Eric Kooper, ed., The Medieval Chronicle iii. Proceedings of the 3rd International Conference on the Medieval Chronicle (Amsterdam, 2004), 135–145. See also, Mihai C. Bratu, L’émergence de l’auteur dans l’historiographie médievale en prose en langue française (Ann Arbor, 2007), 121–126. Henri de Valenciennes, Histoire de l’empereur Henri de Constantinople, §558 (“somewhat uncivilized” and “because you don’t understand his language, and he does not understand yours”). Hélène Ahrweiler, “Byzantine Concepts of the Foreigner: The Case of the Nomads,” in idem and Angeliki E. Laiou, eds., Studies on the Internal Diaspora of the Byzantine Empire, Dumbarton Oaks Research Library and Collection (Washington, 1998), 1–16.

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Furthermore, features which are called classicizing with respect to the writings of Byzantine historians, such as their contemporary Georgios Akropolites, are found as well in Valenciennes’ and Villehardouin’s work. Both authors, as does Akropolites, make use of well-constructed speeches.22 And, as does Akropolites, Valenciennes opens his chronicle with a short prooimion stating his intentions and guiding principles.23 Valenciennes includes a few references to classical history, like Akropolites who—albeit sparingly—refers to a limited number of classical authors such as Homer (and of course expresses himself in pure classical Greek).24 One might, somewhat provocatively, suggest that the chronicles by Villehardouin, Valenciennes, and Akropolites—with their common focus on political events and military exploits, and their use of a sober matter-of-fact style—are not fundamentally all that different. Apart from Villehardouin’s and Valenciennes’ chronicles (only covering the period 1204–1209) no other historical works composed in Latin C ­ onstantinople are known. This prompts the question: were none ever written? Later early 14th-century chronicles specifically dealing with Latin Romania, in particular the different versions of the “Chronicle of Morea” and Marino Sanudo Torsello’s Istoria del Regno di Romania, do not contain any references of such works: successive Latin emperors are hardly mentioned at all. The few details concerning Baldwin ii—such as the selling of lead from palace roofs, or the marriage of the dux of Naxos, Angelo Sanudo (1227–1262) in the imperial palace in Constantinople—may be considered to stem from oral tradition. At the same time they do not display any familiarity with the chronicles by Villehardouin or Valenciennes either.25 In his edition/translation of the chronicles by Villehardouin and Valenciennes, Natalis De Wailly has made a valuable suggestion concerning the socalled Chronique dite de Baudouin d’Avesnes, an anonymous compilatory world history available in three different versions focusing on the county of Hainaut and its comital lineage (composed circa 1279–1284). Following an account of the Fourth Crusade and the establishment of a Latin emperor in ­Constantinople, 22 23 24 25

Henri de Valenciennes, Histoire de l’empereur Henri de Constantinople, §534–538, §558–559, §576–579. Geoffroy de Villehardouin, La conquête de Constantinople, §62–65, §213–214. Henri de Valenciennes, Histoire de l’empereur Henri de Constantinople, §501–502. Henri de Valenciennes, Histoire de l’empereur Henri de Constantinople, §570. Georgios ­Akropolites, The History, trans. Macrides, 51–53. Jean Longnon, ed., Livre de la Conquête de la Princée de l’Amorée. Chronique de Morée (1204–1305) (Paris, 1911). John Schmitt, ed., The Chronicle of Morea, Byzantine Texts (­London, 1904). Alfred Morel-Fatio, ed., Libro de los fechos et conquistas del Principado de la Morea, Société de l’Orient latin. Série historique 4 (Genève, 1885). Marino Sanudo Torsello, Istoria del Regno di Romania, 99–170.

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a paraphrase of Villehardouin’s chronicle (which itself is succeeded in one version by a paraphrase of Valenciennes’ chronicle), the author adds a short continuation narrating the empire’s history up to John of Brienne’s accession in 1231. Concerning this continuation, De Wailly remarks whether this might be an abrégé of either a more complete manuscript of Valenciennes’ chronicle or of an unknown chronicle recounting the history of Latin Romania.26 De Wailly, however, seems not to be aware that the data contained in this continuation can in part be found in Philippe Mouskes’ Chronique rimée (circa 1243) and partially also in the Chronique d’Ernoul (and the related Old French continuations of William of Tyre’s Historia rerum in transmarinis partibus gestarum written in the 1220s–1240s).27 That the author of the Avesnes chronicle would have combined data from both the Ernoul chronicle and Mouskes’ Chronique rimée presents the difficulty that the Avesnes chronicle contains a passage—concerning the marriage between Robert of Courtenay’s niece and the king of Serbia (Stephen I ­Nemanja)— which is not to be found in the two other sources. The anonymous author then for this single fragment would have had access to a third source. An option is that our three chronicles used a common source. This however presents the difficulty that there is a limited overlap between Mouskes and the Ernoul chronicle, while the Avesnes chronicle does not offer extra information apart from the fragment on the Serbian marriage. On the other hand, the hypothesis of a common source would explain why both Mouskes and the Ernoul chronicle inexplicably call Emperor Henry Henri d’Angho/d’Angou, to my knowledge the only two 13th-century sources to do so (together with the Avesnes continuation).28 The precise relationship between the sources is complicated by the fact that Ernoul chronicle’s genesis itself is still rather unclear.29 In any case, two short phrases in Mouskes’ chronicle seem to suggest that this author did use a ­written 26 27

28 29

Natalis De Wailly, La conquête de Constantinople par Geoffroi de Ville-Hardouin avec la continuation de Henri de Valenciennes (Paris, 1872), 423–424. Philippe Mouskes, Chronique rimée, 2:309, 401–409, 620–621, 626, 630–634, 642–645, 662– 668, 673–674, 689. De Mas Latrie, Chronique d’Ernoul et de Bernard le trésorier, §30–33, 325–394. L’estoire d’Eracles empereur et la conqueste de la Terre d’Outremer, Recueil des Historiens des Croisades publié par les soins de l’Académie des inscriptions et belleslettres. Historiens Occidentaux 2 (Paris, 1859), 243–295. Philippe Mouskes, Chronique rimée, 2:402. De Mas Latrie, Chronique d’Ernoul et de Bernard le trésorier, 377–378. A new critical edition is underway under supervision of Peter Edbury. See the following preliminary articles: Peter Edbury, “New Perspectives on the Old French Continuations of William of Tyre,” Crusades 9 (2010), 107–113; Massimiliano Gaggero, “La Chronique d’Ernoul: problèmes et méthode d’édition,” Perspectives médiévales 34 (2012) [url: http:// peme.revues.org/1608; doi : 10.4000/peme.1608].

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source for at least parts of his account of the history of Latin Romania: with regard to the failed siege of Serres (usually dated in 1224) he states “par l’estorie sai de fi,” and he introduces his account of Baldwin ii of Courtenay’s first trip to the West in 1236 with the words “ce nos ensegne li escris.”30 Later chronicles produced in the home region of the first Latin emperors (Flanders and Hainaut), genealogical histories of the comital lineages, contain indications that they had at their disposal narrative sources specifically dealing with the Latin emperors which have not been preserved. Jacques de Guise in his Annales Hanoniae (late 14th century) refers readers who would like to know more about the reigns of the emperors Baldwin i and Henry to the gesta dictorum amborum imperatorum Balduini atque Henrici a Veneticis confecta ubi amborum laudes solemniter extolluntor.31 None of the known Venetian 13th- or 14th-century chronicles (such as the continuations of the Chronicon Altinate, the Historia ducum Veneticorum, Martino da Canal’s Estoires de Venise, the Marco chronicle (1292), Andreas Dandolo’s Chronica per extensum descripta) fit such a description, since they contain very limited information on the reigns of both emperors (especially Henry).32 This leaves the possibility of one or more chronicles having been composed focusing on the reigns of the emperors Baldwin i and Henry as subject matter that are no longer extant. The nature or context of such hypothetical compositions (place, time, author) is, of course, impossible to establish, but Emperor Henry did have several functionaries and dignitaries with a—at least partial—Venetian background at his court.33 30 31

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Philippe Mouskes, Chronique rimée, 2:408 (“through the history I know this with certainty”), 621 (“this teaches us the written work”). Jacques de Guyse, Histoire de Hainaut traduite en français, avec le texte latin en regard, et accompagnée de notes, ed. and trans. Agricol-Joseph Fortia-d’Urban (Paris, 1832), 14:3–5 (“the deeds of both cited emperors Baldwin and Henry, composed by Venetians, wherein the glory of them both is exalted”). Henry Simonsfeld, ed., Chronicon Venetum quod vulgo dicunt Altinate, mgh SS 14 (Hannover, 1883), 1–69. Henry Simonsfeld, ed., Historia Ducum Veneticorum a. 1102–1178, 1204– 1229, mgh SS 14 (Hannover, 1883), 72–97. Martin da Canal, Les Estoires de Venise. Andreas Dandolo, Chronica per extensum descripta. For the Marco-chronicle or Cronaca di Marco, see Biblioteca Nazionale Marciana, Cod. Marc. It., Cl. xi, n° 124 (6802). For example megas doux Philokales Navigaioso, lord of Lemnos, and notarius et iudex Vivianus (Van Tricht, The Latin Renovatio of Byzantium, 112, 120–121). Guillaume SaintGuillain, with reference to Marco Pozza’s article on the Venetian Libri Pactorum, sees Vivianus as a functionary in the Venetian ducal chancery (Guillaume Saint-Guillain, “Venetian Archival Documents and the Prosopography of the Thirteenth-Century Byzantine World: Tracing Individuals Through the Archives of a Diaspora,” in Georg Christ, Franz-Julius Morche, Roberto Zaugg, Wolfgang Kaiser, et al., eds., Union in Separation. Diasporic Groups and Identities in the Eastern Mediterranean (1100–1800) (Rome, 2015),

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Next there is the compilatory Cathalogus et cronica principum et comitum Flandrie ac forestariorum, written shortly after 1423 and a part of the so-called Flandria Generosa group of chronicles. This source also includes a section on the reigns of both Baldwin i and Henry, known as the Balduinus Constantinopolitanus fragment. This text is an odd combination of historically accurate— confirmed by contemporary eyewitness accounts such as Villehardouin’s chronicle—details (such as the participants in Baldwin’s imperial election), and a clearly fanciful rearranging of historical material (such as Baldwin’s conflicts with the emperors Alexios iii Angelos and Alexios v Doukas, Henry’s victory before Constantinople over the rex Valachiae et principes Coromanniae, Armeniae et Syriae). It also contains information on these emperors’ rule not found in any other source, but which nevertheless has a convincing ring to it (such as the honor granted to certain nobles to wear footwear with specific motives, which was customary at the Byzantine court).34 In his critical analysis, Carl Klimke discussed some similarities with imperial letters by Baldwin and Henry, and also with the Chronique d’Ernoul (which he calls the Continuatio Belli Sacri), but at the same time he pointed out many marked differences. He concluded that a vernacular Reichsgeschichte des lateinischen Kaiser must have formed the basis for this text (which he thought might also have been used by the author of the Chronique d’Ernoul), although he remained puzzled by the way the “Nachrichten sich immer weiter entfernen von wahrer Geschichte.”35 Paul Riant accepted Klimke’s conclusion and considered the Balduinus Constantinopolitanus as “l’abrégé latin d’un text en langue vulgaire aujourd’hui perdu.” According to this author the text must have been written before 1214, but he does not give any arguments supporting this date.36 This hypothesis

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65–66). The combined available data however in my view rather point to situating Vivianus—at least temporarily—in a Constantinopolitan context. Cf Marco Pozza, “I Libri Pactorum del comune di Venezia,” in Comuni e memoria storica. Alle origini del comune di Genova, Atti della società ligure di storia patria. Nuove serie 42/1 (Genova, 2002), 199–201. Idem, “I notai della cancellaria,” in Giorgio Tamba, ed., Il notariato veneziano tra x e xv secolo (Bologna, 2013), 187–191. For another—probably also North Italian—imperial notary and judge based in Constantinople for at least some: Gherardo Ortalli, Da Canossa a Tebe. Vicende di una famiglia feudale tra xii e xiii secolo, Materiali e ricerche 9 (Padova, 1983), n° 5, 60 (Lanfranchus, imperialis aule Romane et Constantinopolitane iudex ordinarius et publicus notarius, in 1223 present at the papal curia). See also, Benjamin Hendrickx, “Les institutions de l’empire latin de Constantinople: la chancellerie,” Acta classica 19 (1976), 130; Carile, “La cancellaria sovrana dell’Impero latino di Constantinopoli,” 47, 58. Joseph-Jean De Smet, ed., Cathalogus et cronica principum et comitum Flandrie et Forestariorum, in Recueil des chroniques de Flandre (Bruxelles, 1837), 1:136–137. Carl Klimke, Die Quellen zur Geschichte des Vierten Kreuzzuges (Breslau, 1875), 36–42. Paul E. Riant, Le changement de direction de la 4e croisade d’après quelques travaux récents (Paris, 1878), 29–30.

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of a lost source sounds convincing, but both its date and character need to be reconsidered. The preserved text’s striking divergences from the actual course of events can only be explained by assuming that historical accuracy was never intended and that quite some time had elapsed since both emperors’ reigns (and also by the compilatory nature of the Balduinus text as we know it today). The intention was obviously to write a panegyrical work: both Baldwin and Henry are not only portrayed positively, but are glorified (see Baldwin’s banquet attended by all the nobles from Greece, Thrace, Armenia, etc.; see mention of Henry’s resounding victory). Furthermore, the text includes elements referring to the Latin emperors’ Byzantine-influenced imperial ideology: Baldwin is a true autokrator deposing and appointing his own officers (officiarii) at will throughout the entire empire (in spite of the presence of local principes), which—clearly proclaiming universal rule—has a vast territorial extent including formerly lost Byzantine lands such as Armenia and claimed Eastern or “barbarian” lands such as Coromania (either the Chorasmian/Khwarezmian empire or the land of the Cumans), Jossia (the land of the Goths), and Parte­ nardia/Pinctanardia (either the Parthian empire or the land of the Patzinakoi or Pechenegs, or perhaps both). To be noted is the use of classicizing or archaic geographical terminology, a characteristic of Byzantine literature. A similar list can, for example, be found in John Kinnamos’ description of prince of Antioch Renald of Châtillon’s submission to Emperor Manuel i in 1158 (with ambassadors of, among others, the Khwarezmians and the Medes being present).37 Next the Balduinus fragment describes the relationship between Baldwin and Henry and their Greek partners and subjects in favourable terms, which parallels the actual policy of the first (Baldwin i, Henry) and also later (­Yolande, Robert, Baldwin ii) emperors who strongly advocated Latin-­ Byzantine cooperation. The collaboration between Alexios iv Angelos, who is portrayed as pius (“pious”), and Baldwin is depicted in the most positive light. The Graeci (Greeks) are depicted as first desiring and then effectively welcoming Baldwin’s accession, since it liberated them from the tyrannical rule of both Alexios iii and Alexios v (“liberati de misera servitude” [“liberated from miserable servitude”]. Indeed, the emperor assigns “honestos viros et justos” [“honest and righteous men”] and commands to uphold Byzantine law (“justis legibus, privilegiis et consuetudinibus Atheniensium et Graecorum” [“the just 37

De Smet, Cathalogus et cronica principum et comitum Flandrie et Forestariorum, 132–139. Iorga identifies Coromania as the land of the Cumans , Jossia as Gothia, and Partenardia and Pinctanardia as the land of the Pechenegs, and (Nicolae Iorga, France de Constantinople et de Morée (Bucarest, 1935), 36). Joannes Kinnamos, Epitome rerum ab Ioanne et Alexio Comnenis Gestarum, ed. August Meineke, Corpus Historiae Byzantinae (Bonn, 1836), lib. 4, cap. 18.

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laws, ­privileges and customs of the Athenians and the Greeks”]. At his funeral service in Saint Sophia, Baldwin’s death is lamented by the people (populus) of Constantinople “cum magno dolore et gemitu” [“with great sorrow and laments”]. The people of Constantinople (Constantinopolitani) thereafter elect Henry as emperor, who defeats an army composed of “malorum Christianorum et Sarracenorum” [“bad Christians and Saracens”]. These mali Christiani may of course have included Byzantines, but are not equated with them.38 With the negative stance regarding Venice another characteristic of the ­Latin emperors’ actual policies is also present in the Balduinus text: in the account of the crusade, the Venetians function as the villains of the piece (having been corrupted by the sultan’s gold) but then after the conquest of Constantinople they are not mentioned: despite Venice obtaining three-eighths of both the capital and the empire. This parallels their treatment by Valenciennes, who manages to cite Venice or the Venetians not a single time in his entire chronicle.39 The remarkable similarities between our fragment and the Latin emperors’ actual policies allow us to hypothesize that a now lost panegyrical text with an—at least partial—historical character was composed at the court of one of the later Latin emperors, likely Baldwin ii (during whose reign the events of 1204 were becoming a more or less a distant past), may have served as a source for the author of the Balduinus Constantinopolitanus text. This text may well have included an account of the Latin empire up until the time of the reigning emperor. The fact that the Balduinus fragment stops with Henry (whose reign is treated much more briefly already) can easily be explained by the focus of the Cathalogus. This basically is a history of the Flemish counts and, after Henry, the Constantinopolitan empire passed on to the Courtenay’s. Various later chronicles thus point to the existence of now lost sources narrating the Latin empire’s history, possibly written in Constantinople. Both the first and later Latin emperors had displayed a vivid interest in recording their achievements as manifested by several preserved, or in contemporary sources referenced, imperial encyclicals, some of which were very elaborate and sophisticated pieces.40 These hypothetical texts were no doubt composed

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On the Latin emperors opting for Latin-Byzantine cooperation: Van Tricht, The Latin Renovatio of Byzantium, 473–480; idem, “Robert of Courtenay,” 1025–1032. My view on imperial-Venetian relations with references to other authors: Van Tricht, The Latin Renovatio of Byzantium, 215–219; idem, “Robert of Courtenay,” 1030–1031. For example the following encyclicals by Baldwin i and Henry: Hendrickx, “Regestes des empereurs latins de Constantinople,” n° 6, n° 123. A summary of an imperial encyclical by Baldwin ii retelling his conquest of the Thracian town of Tzouroulon in 1240 has been preserved in Matthaeus Parisiensis, Chronica Majora 4:54–55. See also, Phillips’ ­appreciation

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in a Western language (Latin or Old French vernacular). On the basis of later ­Byzantine sources, a case can, however, also be made for the existence of a Constantinopolitan historical account in Greek, specifically dealing with the Latin emperors’ rule. The existence of a Greek version of the “Chronicle of Morea” (late 13th/early 14th century), whether this was its original version or not, indicates that such a proposition should not be rejected out of hand: Latin rule could obviously be compatible with the writing and reading of history in Greek. A copy of Niketas Choniates’ recent chronicle for instance circulated in Latin Constantinople. In this context Herbert Hunger’s suggestion that the anonymous and undated metaphrasis of Anna Komnena’s Alexiad, only preserved in a 1­ 7th-century manuscript, might have been produced as early as during the period of Latin rule, also needs mentioning. The mixed Latin-­Byzantine imperial elite and court—with Latins knowing Greek, but presumably not many being able to read or understand the classicizing literary language— may provide a context that explains the production of such a metaphrasis. The Latin patriarch of Antioch, Aimery of Limoges, around 1176–1177, requested from his Pisan friend Hugo Etherien, who was an advisor to emperor Manuel i ­Komnenos, a translation, among other things, of a Greek chronicle (from the time that the “Greeks” had departed from the Roman empire), showing Latin interest in the translation of Byzantine history. Previously we met duke of ­Athens John of La Roche (1263–1280), who may have been familiar with Herodotos’ Histories (in Greek).41 Information concerning the Latin emperors and their empire found in the (near) contemporary chronicles by Georgios ­Akropolites

41

of Baldwin’s 1204 letters to the West announcing the capture of ­Constantinople: “an impressive array of biblical and rethorical apparatus” (Phillips, The Fourth Crusade, 275). On the Chronicle of Morea: Teresa Shawcross, The Chronicle of Morea. Historiography in Crusader Greece, Oxford Studies in Byzantium (Oxford, 2009). Critically reviewed in Marie-Hélène Blanchet and Guillaume Saint-Guillain, “À propos d’un ouvrage récent sur la Chronique de Morée. Contribution au débat,” Byzantion 83 (2013), 13–39. On Choniates’ chronicle: Jean-Louis van Dieten, “Die drei Fassungen der Historia des Niketas Choniates uber die Eroberung von Konstantinopel und die Ereignisse danach,” in Ioannis Vassis, Gunther S. Henrich, Diether R. Reinsch, eds., Lesarten: Festschrift fur Athanasios Kambylis zum 70. Geburtstag (Berlin, 1998), 139–142. On the anonymous metaphrasis: Herbert Hunger, ed., Anonyme Metaphrase zu Anna Komnene, Alexias xi–xiii. Ein Beitrag zur ­Erschließung der byzantinischen Umgangssprache, Wiener Byzantinistische Studien 15 (Vienna, 1981), 15. A later date (1330s or 1340s) and context (textbooks for the young John v Paleologos (°1332) has also been proposed: John Davies, “Anna Komnene and Niketas Choniates ‘translated’: the fourteenth-century Byzantine metaphrases,” in Ruth Macrides, ed., History as Literature in Byzantium: Papers from the Fortieth Spring Symposium of Byzantine Studies, University of Birmingham, April 2007, Publications of the Society for the Promotion of Byzantine Studies (Farnham, 2010), 55–72. On patriarch Aimery of Lusignan: Krijnie Ciggaar, “Manuscripts as Intermediaries. The Crusader States and Literary Cross-fertilization,” in idem, ed. Adelbert Davids, and Herman G. Teule, East and West in

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(†1282) and Georgios Pachymeres († circa 1307) probably derives both from personal e­ xperience, oral sources, and a limited number of diplomatic documents.42 But the verse chronicle by Ephraim (late 13th/early 14th century), whose main sources were Choniates and Akropolites, does contain two unique details concerning the Latin emperors that cannot be found elsewhere. In the positive character sketch of Baldwin i (pious and chaste), adopted from Choniates, one entirely new element is introduced: the emperor is called the “φύλαξ νόμων τε δικής” (“guardian of the laws and justice”). This portrayal of a Latin ruler by a Byzantine author as the provider of justice and the protector of (Byzantine) law is striking. Evidently it parallels Baldwin’s image in the Balduinus Constantintinopolitanus fragment where he is likewise pictured as upholding the “leges, privilegii et consuetudines Atheniensium et Graecorum” and as promoting justice. Baldwin ii is also characterized on two occasions positively as a gentle (ἤπιος), moderate (μέτριος), self-controlled (σωφρονικός), and graceful (χαρίεις) man.43 Both of these positive portrayals might stem from a panegyrical-historical account in Greek written by a Byzantine member of the emperor’s entourage, which was perhaps related to the (hypothetical) text that may have served as a source for the Balduinus fragment. Other indications for lost sources in Greek focusing on Latin imperial rule in Constantinople can be found in the anonymous verse chronicle He alosis tes Konstantinopoleos (late 14th century) and in Nikephoros Gregoras’ (circa ­1295–1360) Rhomaike Historia. Gregoras’ chronicle contains a short passage, not taken from his main sources for these years Akropolites and Pachymeres, relating how Baldwin ii shortly before the Nicaean conquest of Constantinople repeatedly heard a horse neighing in the Boukoleon palace. After some investigation it was found that the sound appeared to be coming from a fresco depicting Saint George, opposite the Theotokos Nikopoios chapel. The emperor was very alarmed by this and took it to be a bad omen.44 He alosis tes Konstantinopoleos narrates a somewhat similar story, presented as a miracle (θαῦμα), of how Baldwin, after Michael viii Paleologos had come to power in 1258/59, while inspecting the land walls near the Charisios (or Adrianople) gate repeatedly experienced visions of Saint George approaching the gate, which ­contained a

42 43 44

the Crusader States. Context–Contacts–­Confrontations, Orientalia Lovaniensia Analecta 75 (Leuven, 1996), 134–136. George Akropolites, The History, trans. Macrides, 35–38. Pachymeres, Relations historiques, lib. 1, §1. Ephraem Aenius, Historia Chronica, v7198, v7711–7712, v8159. Nikephoros Gregoras, Bizantina Historia, 1: lib. 8, cap. 5. On this sanctuary and its role in imperial ceremonies: Pseudo-Codinus, Traité des Offices, ed. Jean Verpeaux, Le monde byzantin 1 (Paris, 1966), 226–228. See also, Janin, La géographie ecclésiasique de l’empire byzantin, 198–199.

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tiny cloister (στοά) dedicated to the saint. The emperor interpreted this as signifying the military saint’s support in the context of the serious ­Nicaean threat to his capital. To give thanks and further secure Saint George’s continuing aid, the emperor commissioned a priest in his entourage named Demetrios to construct a church near the gate dedicated to the saint, which although small is described as magnificent, rich in fine adornment and entirely built of marble.45 Both stories were obviously intended to create the view that Michael viii’s conquest of Constantinople had been announced in advance, sanctioned by the celestial powers in concert with Saint George (and the Theotokos). The explicit connection made in these stories with specific monuments relates them to prophetical and miraculous traditions as well as urban legends associated with metropolitan buildings found in the Patria.46 The anecdote concerning the Theotokos Nikopoios chapel may well have come into circulation after the 1261 Nicaean conquest without much actual basis. But in the story of Saint George approaching the Charisios gate there seems no reason to disbelieve that a church dedicated to Saint George was actually built by Baldwin ii. There must be a basis in fact if a 14th-century Byzantine author credited a Latin emperor with constructing a sanctuary depicted as aesthetically beautiful. The particular motivation for undertaking the construction of the church, the “­miraculous” occurrence, fits very well the emperor’s personality. Baldwin’s horoscope and the astrological treatise dedicated to him attest to his personal interest in predictive phenomena. A passage in Thomas Tuscus’ Gesta imperatorum et pontificum (circa 1280) supports this inclination. In the context of Charles of Anjou’s impending victory at Tagliacozzo against Conradin (1268), it is said that Benedict of Arezzo, the Franciscan provincial of Romania and John of Brienne’s confessor, who apparently had an interest in predictive phenomena, correctly foretold Baldwin things concerning Romania which afterwards came to pass.47 That the source of the Charisios gate anecdote was part of a purely oral tradition, as editor Matzukis believes, seems unlikely, since the He alosis tes Konstantinopoleos was composed well over a century 45 Matzukis, The Fall of Constantinople, 123–127. On earlier visions of Saint George appearing near the Charisios gate and another church in his honour built near the same site: ­ Raymond Janin, Constantinople byzantine. Développement urbain et répertoire topographique, Archives de l’Orient chrétien 4 (Paris, 1964), 281. On the (impressive) Charisios gate: Marios Philippides and Walter K. Hanak, The Siege and the Fall of Constantinople in 1453. Historiography, ­Topography, and Military Studies (Farnham, 2011), 330–331. 46 See on the Patria: Gilbert Dagron, Constantinople imaginaire. Etudes sur le recueil des ­Patria (Paris, 1984), 127. 47 Thomas Tuscus, Gesta Imperatorum et Pontificum, ed. Ernst Ehrenfeuchter, mgh SS 22 (Hannover, 1872), 523. See also, Wolff, “The Franciscans in the Latin Empire of ­Constantinople,” 220–222.

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after the time when the related events took place. A more probable option may be that the anecdote was originally contained in a text composed in relation to the foundation of the church. That such a document would have been composed seems likely, as does the presumption that it would have contained biographical data concerning the founder’s life. Autobiographical introductions to founders’ typika were not uncommon, as is attested, for instance, by Michael viii’s typikon for his foundation of the Saint Demetrios monastery.48 It is possible that a foundation document for Baldwin’s church would have been written in Greek (in addition to a Latin version), given the fact that the construction of the church was bestowed upon a priest with a Greek name. In other instances bilingual texts were being composed in Latin Constantinople. The loss of Baldwin’s hypothetical autobiographical introduction/typikon (and of the other possible historical accounts in Greek) should not surprise: after 1261 the preservation of such texts would not have been a priority, while a conscious damnatio memoriae may also be conceivable. Whether the Charisios gate anecdote was known to the author of the He alosis tes Konstantinopoleos chronicle through this hypothetical typikon, or through an intermediary such as a collection of miracles attributed to Saint George, cannot be ascertained.49 2

Fictional Literature

Apart from the texts with a (sometimes partial) historical character other types of literature were produced and consumed. Both lyrical poetry and chivalric epics were being written or read or performed. At the Thessalonican court the Provençals Raimbaut of Vacqueras and Elias Cairel, both originally members of Boniface of Montferrat’s entourage, authored political sirventès addressed 48

49

On autobiographical data in typika in general: John Thomas and Angela Constantinides Hero, Byzantine Monastic Foundation Documents, Dumbarton Oaks Studies 35 (Washington D.C., 2001), 1237–1253. For Michael viii’s typikon for the Saint Demetrios monastery: Henri Grégoire, “Imperatoris Michaelis Palaeologi de vita sua,” Byzantion 29–30 (1959– 60), 447–476. That such a hypothetical miracles collection, authored then by a Byzantine writer after 1261, would have been the original source lying at the basis of the anecdote seems doubtful in view of the fact that Emperor Baldwin ii and members of his entourage through their actions are portrayed in a positive way as pious men. There was no reason for such a writer to construe the story in this particular fashion, unless of course he for convenience’s sake simply adopted it unaltered from an earlier source (the supposed typikon). On damnatio memoriae after 1261: Sophia Kalopissi-Verti, “Aspects of Byzantine Art after the Recapture of Constantinople (1261–c.1300): Reflections of Imperial Policy, Reactions, Confrontation with the Latins,” in Fabienne Joubert and Jean-Pierre Caillet, eds., Orient & Occident méditerranéens au XIIIe siècle. Les programmes picturaux (Paris, 2012), 56.

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to or mentioning the emperors Baldwin i (Conseil don a l’emperador by Vacqueras) and Henry (No m’agrad iverns ni pascors by Vacqueras, Pus chai la fuelha del jaric by Cairel), also their sister Empress Yolande (Qui saubes dar lo bon conseil denan by Cairel).50 These were probably known and performed in Constantinople as well. The famed trouvère and imperial protovestiarios (and later regent) Cono i of Béthune knew Raimbaut quite well. Sometime during the Fourth Crusade or during the Latin empire’s early years (1201–1207) they jointly composed a jeu-parti (Seigner Coines, jois e pretz et amors).51 It is possible that some of Cono’s songs were written while in Constantinople, although none of them contain explicit references to his stay there.52 In one of the mentioned poems (No m’agrad iverns ni pascors), the Latin conquerors (Boniface of Montferrat, Henry of Flanders/Hainaut, Hugo of Champlitte) are likened to Alexander the Great among others such as Charlemagne and Roland. Another (Qui saubes dar lo bon conseil denan) briefly portrays Empress Yolande as the successor to Manuel Komnenos (Manuels emperaire). Both references can be seen as references to the classical and Byzantine past of the region and hence displaying a measure of interest. A somewhat longer lyrical piece, Lai d’Aristote, may well have been written in Constantinople, which in four of the five available manuscripts is attributed to a certain Henris. Formerly identified as the Norman Henry of Andeli, it has recently, convincingly but not yet definitively, been argued by François Zufferey that this Henris is no other than Henry of Valenciennes, the imperial cleric who authored the chronicle discussed. The lay in question—characterized as such in style but as a fabliau in content—has been dated around 1215–1225.53 Since there is no indication that Valenciennes ever returned to his Western homeland, Latin Constantinople should be considered as the likely place of composition. If so it would be tempting to see the classical setting as having been inspired by the city’s Byzantine/Hellenic past and culture, a­ lthough 50 51 52 53

Vincenzo De Bartholomeis, ed., Poesie provenzali storiche relative all’Italia (Rome, 1931), 1:n° 36–37. Idem, “Un Sirventès historique d’Elias Cairel,” Annales du Midi 16 (1904), 468– 494. Hilde Jaeschke, “Der Trobador Elias Cairel,” Romanische Studien 20 (1921), 164–165. Vincenzo De Bartholomeis, “De Rambaut e de Coine,” Romania 34 (1905), 44–54. Oskar Schulz-Gora, “Die Tenzone zwischen Raimbaut und Coine,” Zeitschrift für romanische ­Philologie 41 (1921), 703–710. For a tentative relative chronology of Cono’s work, see Wallensköld, Les chansons de Conon de Béthune, xviii–xix. François Zufferey, “Henri de Valenciennes, auteur du Lai d’Aristote et de la Vie de saint Jean l’Évangéliste,” Revue de linguistique romane 69 (2004), 335–358. Henri de Valenciennes, The Lay of Aristote, ed. Leslie C. Brook and Glyn C. Burgess, Liverpool Online Series. Critical Editions of French Texts 16 (Liverpool, 2011), 11–13.

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a­ ncient history had already been very much part of Western literature, as for instance the 12th-century romans antiques exemplify. The lay has usually been interpreted as alluding to the anti-Aristotelian stance taken by conservative scholars at the University of Paris, where the teaching of Aristotle’s works on natural philosophy had been banned in 1210, although by 1255 the study of Aristotle had become mandatory at the Paris arts faculty. Such a critical attitude towards Aristotle was also present in Constantinople. The anonymous author of our Introductoire d’Astronomie posits him as an authority, but with regard to most matters Aristotle’s views (at one point called “heresy”) are treated as minor opinions. If the lay was indeed written in Constantinople it could be interpreted as having been inspired by contemporary local politics. Indeed, it is hard not to relate the lay’s main message to the actual situation at the imperial court under Emperor Robert of Courtenay. The lay in essence narrates the story of the king of Greece and Egypt, Alexander, who after great conquests in India falls passionately in love with a foreign lady, leading him to spend all of his time with her and to neglect his barons and knights. His tutor, the philosopher Aristotle of Athens, attempts to correct his conduct and warns Alexander about the possible political consequences of his behaviour, but seduced by the lady’s charms and made a fool by his desire he ends up being shamed. Aristotle in a final address to Alexander, who chooses to pursue his amorous devotion for his lady, concludes that whoever gives in to passionate love or lust cannot escape without loss. Two rather striking parallels with the Constantinopolitan court in the early 1220s can be identified. First, after securing the conquests of his uncle Henry in northwestern Asia Minor (paralleling Alexander’s Indian conquests), Robert is initially engaged to princess Eudokia Laskaris, daughter of Theodore i of Nicaea, but eventually marries somewhat secretively a lady of mixed GreekLatin descent (like Alexander’s foreign mistress), with whom he has become— according to some of his barons—so infatuated that he is no longer interested in the concerns of his knights, instead preferring to stay in his palace with his love (matching Alexander’s neglect of his barons).54 Secondly, the relationship between Alexander and Aristotle may very well mirror the one between the Latin emperor (Robert) and Henry of Valenciennes, who like Aristotle was a man of letters and, as an imperial cleric, may have been his lord’s confidant and counselor. The parallels would seem to point to the lay’s real gist: it may not just be a general reflection on the dangers of passionate love or lust, but advice specifically directed to Emperor Robert. The use of a work of literature as an ­instrument to 54

Van Tricht, “Robert of Courtenay,” 1004–1015, 1024–1029.

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advise or instruct a ruler is well-known (see for instance Vacqueras’ sirventès Conseil don a l’emperador, or in general the mirrors for princes genre). Such public advice for a ruler could be risky, especially as a member of his immediate entourage. In the lay the author makes use of an ingenious ploy in order to defuse his lord’s possible anger: it is not Alexander (=Robert) who ends up humiliated, but Aristotle (=Valenciennes). The joke is on the tutor and philosopher (and thus indirectly on his hypothetical counterpart Valenciennes), who however cleverly manages to use the disgrace he suffers to reinforce his advice: giving in to passionate love is perhaps unavoidable (if even a wise old man cannot resist), but in any case it will not be without consequences. Lyrical works dating to the later decades of Latin imperial rule in Constantinople are not known, but such literature no doubt remained part of cultural metropolitan life. At the feudally dependent court of Achaia, which until 1261 entertained close political and family ties with Constantinople (marriage alliances between the Villehardouins and the Courtenays and Toucys), the production and consumption of poetry during these years is attested. Among others there are two songs ascribed to prince William ii of Villehardouin. A  luxurious songbook, probably commissioned by or presented as a gift to this same prince, includes several songs by Cono i of Béthune, by other participants of the Fourth Crusade, and by John of Brienne (composed before he ­became emperor).55 Lyrical compositions in Greek may also have been produced. The existence of a song in vernacular Greek featuring Emperor Henry of Flanders (in some versions called Alexander of Flanders) is preserved in manuscripts from the 16th-century and has been studied extensively by Manousos Manousakas in two successive articles. Given the subject matter and the relatively short period of Latin rule in the capital, it may be surmised along with Borje Knös and Gill Page that the original song must have been written not long after the events to which it alludes (Henry’s marriage to a Bulgarian princess). ­Moreover, since several versions have been preserved from different regions 55

Jean Longnon, “Le prince de Morée chansonnier,” Romania 65 (1939) 95–100. Page, “Literature in Frankish Greece,” 292–299. John Haines, “The Songbook for William of Villehardouin, Prince of the Morea (Paris, Bibliothèque nationale de France, fonds français 844). A Crucial Case in the History of Vernacular Song Collections,” in: Sharon E. Gerstel (ed.), Viewing the Morea. Land and People in the Late Medieval Peloponnese, Dumbarton Oaks Byzantine Symposia and Colloquia (Washington D.C., 2013), 57–109. The latter author is not always well informed about the political background (for example: the prince of Achaia was never imperial marshal, the 1267 treaties of Viterbo did not provide for Charles of Anjou to become prince of Achaia, prince William ii never had any imperial ambitions, etc.).

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(Macedonia, Asia Minor, Cyclades), one could hypothesize that the original song from which these all derive was produced in Constantinople (from where it disseminated).56 Epic literature is also attested in Latin Constantinople. David Jacoby has argued that a copy of Benoît of Saint-Maure’s Roman de Troie (around 1160) was present in Constantinople around 1205. The presence of this roman antique should not surprise since the matter of Troy particularly appealed to the participants of the Fourth Crusade and later barons in the Latin Empire as a means to legitimize their rule. In line with a popular Western mythological tradition they saw themselves as descendants of the Trojans. Chronicler R ­ obert of Clari, for instance, refers to the Franks’ presumed Trojan roots (invoked by baron Peter of Bracheux to the Bulgarian tsar Kaloyan (1197–1207) to justify Latin rule). The interior of the archiepiscopal palace of Patras was decorated with paintings depicting the history of Troy (presumably dated to the 13th or 14th century), and a prose version of the Roman de Troie was probably composed in the Peloponnese in the later 13th century. Saint-Maure’s version of the Trojan War was even translated into Greek.57 Further information on the circulation of epic literature in Western languages is almost entirely lacking, which is in large measure due to the general paucity of available sources. The battle speech by imperial marshal Villehar­ douin referring to livres d’estores would seem to suggest that epics were, quite naturally, a part of cultural life among the Latin elite in the capital. The Roman de Troie, the Roman d’Alexandre, or the Chanson de Roland were in his eyes no doubt no less a livre d’estore than for example the mentioned vernacular translation of William of Tyre’s chronicle. Leonardo da Veroli, chancellor (or logothetes) of the principality of Achaia, at the time of his death in Italy in 1281 had with him a private library containing fourteen romances. The close ­political 56

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Manousos I. Manousakas, “To elleniko demotiko tragoudi gia to Basilia Erriko tes ­Phlantras,” Laographia 14 (1952), 1–52. Idem, “Kai Pali to Tragoudi gia to Basilia Erriko tes Phlantras,” Laographia 15 (1954), 336–370. Borje Knös, L’histoire de la littérature néogrecque, Studia Graeca Upsalensia 1 (Stockholm, 1962), 107. Page, “Literature in Frankish Greece,” 321. Robert de Clari, La conquête de Constantinople, §106. Teresa Shawcross, “Re-inventing the Homeland in the Historiography of Frankish Greece: the Fourth Crusade and the Legend of the Trojan War,” Byzantine and Modern Greek Studies 27 (2003), 120–152. David Jacoby, “Knightly values and class consciousness in the crusader states of the Eastern Mediterranean,” The Medieval Mediterranean 1 (1986), 170–173. In general on the political use of origin myths: Thomas Foerster, “Political Myths and Political Culture in Twelfth Century Europe,” in Hartwin Brandt, Benjamin Pohl, W. Maurice Sprague, and Lina K. Hörl, eds., Erfahren, Erzählen, Erinnern. Narrative Konstruktionen von Gedächtnis und Generation in Antike und Mittelalter, Bamberger Historische Studien 9 (Bamberg, 2012), 83–115.

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and family contacts between Achaia and Constantinople (Veroli himself in 1252 married a daughter of the Constantinopolitan baron and one time regent Narjot i of Toucy) no doubt also implied shared cultural practices, within the broader common cultural background.58 Our astrological author himself was probably not only interested in science, but also in literature. From the remarkable versified introduction to his Introductoire we could infer that he was not only a scholar but a competent poet as well. In that capacity he may well have written lyrical or epical historical or fictional works, and like Veroli he also may have been active in collecting literary works. As regards the production of epic literature in Latin Romania attention should be devoted to the cycle of the Sept Sages de Rome, in particular to its first two continuations Marques de Rome and Laurin de Rome, dated around the mid-13th century. Levente Selaf has remarked that from Marques de Rome until the sixth and final continuation Roman de Kanor, Constantinople is portrayed as a center of power/authority/empire, as opposed to a devalorised Rome. Selaf links this fact to the presumed patron of the final four continuations (certainly the Roman de Cassidorus which is explictly dedicated to him), Guy of Dampierre, count of Flanders and marquis of Namur (1251/1268–1305), who was a grandson of Emperor Baldwin i.59 The positive portrayal of Constantinople (as opposed to Rome) in both Marques and Laurin may likewise be due to some connection with Latin Constantinople. Further research is needed, but at least an author with some Constantinopolitan affiliation should be considered. The strong links between the courts and nobility of Flanders and Latin Constantinople in general, and the direct contacts between Baldwin ii and Guy of Dampierre, who acquired the marquisate of Namur from the ­former, should be taken into account.60 Latin Constantinople in any case up to a point inspired Western authors. The continually besieged by infidels—and positively portrayed—Emperor Hernis of Constantinople (likely the second Latin emperor Henry of Flanders/­ Hainaut) in the popular Anglo-Norman romance Gui de Warewic (circa 1232– 1242) clearly refers to the Latin emperors, whose empire (after the late 1220s) 58

59 60

David Jacoby, “La littérature française dans les États latins de la Méditerranée orientale à l’époque des croisades: diffusion et création,” in Essor et fortune de la chanson de geste dans l’Europe et l’Orient latin. Actes du IXe Congrès international de la Société Rencesvals pour l’étude des épopées romanes (Padoue-Venise, 29 août–4 septembre 1982 (Modena, 1984), 2:624–625. Levente Seláf, “Constantinople et la Hongrie dans le Cycle des Sept Sages de Rome,” in Emese Egedi-Kovács, ed., Byzance et l’Occident iii. Ecrits et manuscrits, Antiquitas–­ Byzantium–Renascentia 23 (Budapest, 2016), 160–161. Wolff, “The Mortgage and Redemption of an Emperor’s Son,” 62–64.

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was in a state of almost permanent crisis, and who presented their conflicts with neighbouring rulers as a defence of the Roman Church against pagans and heretics. Emperor Baldwin ii around the time of the writing of this romance visited the kingdom of England (in 1238 and again in 1247). The positive portrayal of Emperor Hernis perhaps suggests local sympathy for the cause of the Latin empire, in contrast with the current view in historiography which is mainly based on opposition by the English clergy against papal crusading taxes and on Matthew of Paris’—a cleric—rather unfavourable depiction of Baldwin in his chronicles. In the Arthurian romance Les Prophecies de Merlin, composed by a Venetian around 1272–1279, the emperor instructs the pope to pawn (“metre en gage”) his two children in order to raise money for the defence of the Holy Land, a clear reference to either Emperor John of Brienne or Baldwin ii whose children were effectively pawned to Venetian merchants. The emperor character in Les Prophecies also refers to other near-contemporary emperors, such as Frederick ii of Hohenstaufen.61 The chanson de geste La belle Hélène de Constantinople, situated in the early Christian era, may also have some connection with Latin imperial rule in Constantinople. Although the first preserved version probably dates to the later part of the 13th century (circa 1260–1300) or the first half of the 14th century, an earlier (now lost) version appears to have been written somewhere between the 1230s and 1262. A number of content elements in the complex plot, inspired by a variety of sources, warrants attention. One of the protagonists is an emperor of Constantinople named Antoine, who travels extensively through Western Europe and repeatedly intervenes in its affairs, among other cases to (twice) save the city of Rome from the Saracens at the pope’s request. The emperor of Rome himself, called Richard, is virtually absent from the story. This centrality of the emperor of Constantinople compared to the emperor of Rome is remarkable and could be explained in the context of Latin emperors 61

Alfred Ewert, ed., Gui de Warewic, Roman du XIIIe siecle, Classiques français du moyen âge 74/75 (Paris, 1932), 1:v2887–4520. Ewert’s dating has been challenged and an alternative date around 1205–1215 has been proposed, but in my opinion unconvincingly. I plan to provide a detailed discussion of this topic in a future contribution on the relations between Latin Constantinople and England. For a succinct overview of the debate, see Judith Weiss, “The Exploitation of Ideas of Pilgrimage and Sainthood in Gui de Warewic,” in Laura Ashe, Ivana Djordjevic, and idem, eds., The Exploitations of Medieval Romance (Cambridge, 2010), 54–55 (n. 44). See also, David A. Trotter, Medieval French Literature and the Crusades (1100–1300), Histoire des idées et critique littéraire 26 (Genève, 1988), 39–42; Velma Bourgeois Richmond, The Legend of Guy of Warwick (New York, 1996), 37–48. Chrissis, Crusading in Frankish Greece, 120–123, 151–154; Anne Berthelot, Les Prophesies de Merlin (Cod. Bodmer 116) (Cologne-Genève, 1992), 301. See also, Helen Nicholson, “Echoes of Past and Present Crusades in Les Prophecies de Merlin,” Romania 122 (2004), 320–340. Nicholson does not mention this reference to the Latin emperors.

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occupying the Eastern throne while extensively travelling through Western Europe (Robert of Courtenay’s voyage to Rome and Baldwin ii’s travels to France, Flanders-Hainaut-Namur, England, Rome, Spain, etc.). A Hainaut origin which editor Roussel attributes to the anonymous poet is complementary with such a hypothesis: the Latin emperors belonging to the lineage of the counts of Hainaut (and Flanders). The reversal of fortunes between the fictional emperor Antoine—a mighty ruler coming to the aid of Rome and other parts of Western Europe—and the real (later) Latin emperors requesting aid from the pope and other Western rulers—is of interest. This storyline could be read as an implicit plea from the author presumably from Hainaut to return favours and come to the aid of the contemporary and beleaguered Latin emperor of Constantinople, whose predecessors had once saved Rome and aided Western Europe. An inversion may be read as well in the chanson. Emperor Antoine, together with the English king Henry (one of the other protagonists, who marries Antoine’s daughter Hélène), repeatedly visits and campaigns in Flanders, the home region of the Latin emperors (together with inter alia Hainaut). But Antoine not only campaigns there against the Saracens, he also christianizes the region by obtaining its r­ uler’s conversion (count Maradin). In 1054, however, from a Western perspective Constantinople had broken from the Roman mother Church (seen from a Western perspective), and it would take a Flemish successor of Antoine, the first Latin emperor Baldwin i of Flanders/Hainaut, to bring the Eastern empire back to the fold. Furthermore, the English-Constantinopolitan cooperation between Antoine—who visits England personally—and Henry calls to mind the (only modestly succesful) efforts of Baldwin ii—who visited the English court in 1238 and 1247—to enlist the help of the English king Henry iii (1216–1272) for his ailing empire. It is always risky to look for references to specific historical facts or circumstances in fictional literature, but it is difficult to escape the idea that an attentive 13th-century audience—assuming the chanson already existed— would not have noticed the parallels or inversions. Although the chanson is composed of many other elements which have nothing to do with Constantinople (one of which is the centrality and positive portrayal of the English king versus the French king Clovis—still a pagan at first—who is relegated to a minor role), the allusions to the Latin empire may indicate that the author himself—apart from a seemingly pro-English outlook—had a connection with Latin Romania, either through personal experience, family history, or a lineage he served.62 62

Claude Roussel, ed., La belle Hélène de Constantinople, chanson de geste du XIVe siècle, Textes littéraires français 454 (Genève, 1995), 9–26, 88–96. Philippe de Remi, Le roman

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With regard to epic literature, attention should be given to the verse romances in vernacular Greek composed sometime after 1204. The 12th century had witnessed a Byzantine revival of the genre of the Hellenistic novel. Four such works composed by Constantinopolitan intellectuals connected to the imperial court have been preserved. They are written in the learned classical Greek used in virtually all Byzantine writing until then, whatever the genre. An exception is the (probable) early 12th-century anonymous vernacular epic Digenes Akrites, which should be considered an isolated effort to record a pre-­ existing oral literary tradition. A limited number of satirical fragments, however, also used the vernacular for a comical effect. The post-1204 vernacular Greek romances that followed the genre of these learned novels, both the original and the translations/adaptations from Western models, have been the subject of much debate. There are few certainties and no general consensus regarding date, place, and the context within which they were composed. N ­ evertheless some findings now seem to be accepted quite generally. The fact that all known post-1204 romances are in the vernacular, and all in political verse, should be considered as a reflexion of a conscious literary innovation, not as the result of authors lacking the skills to express themselves in the learned Greek language. While they are all written in the vernacular, there are differences nevertheless in language register. The vernacular in three original romances (Belthandros kai Chrysantza, Livistros kai Rhodamne, and Kallimachos kai Chrysorroi) have been influenced by the learned Greek language. Therefore a Constantinopolitan origin has been suggested. Kallimachos has even been attributed to Emperor Michael viii’s nephew Andronikos Paleologos, although not undisputed. The language of the translations/adaptations from Western romances (Ho polemos tes Troados, Florios kai Platziaflora, Imberios kai Margarona and Apollonios of Tyre) is less learned, and therefore a provincial origin has been proposed. In any case, practically all of these romances show prominent Western influences. This is self-evident for the translations/adaptations, and in the original works the influence is manifested in the use of terms and features derived from Western feudal and chivalrous society, by story outlines with parallels in Western works, and by the fact that the main characters in the stories are often Latins or persons with Grecisized Latin names.63

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de la Manekine, ed. Barbara N. Sargent-Baur (Amsterdam, 1999), 112. On the relationship between Baldwin ii and Henry iii, see Chrissis, Crusading in Frankish Greece, 102–121. An excellent and nuanced overview of the debate concerning the Greek medieval romances in René Bouchet, trans., Romans de chevalerie du moyen âge grec (Paris, 2007), 9–27. See for more extensive, often conflicting expositions (with references to further literature), Roderick Beaton, The Medieval Greek Romance, Cambridge Studies in Medieval Literature 6 (Cambridge, 1989), 87–183; Panagiotis A. Agapitos and Ole L. Smith, The Study

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A number of these romances have been linked with the Latin principalities in southern Greece. Imberios kai Margarona, a translation or adaptation of an early Provençal or Catalan version of the 15th-century Pierre de Provence et la Belle Maguelonne, with possibly also influences from a number of Italian poems, seems to have a connection with the lordship and later duchy of Athens, and more specifically with the Cistercian abbey of Daphni, although the Frankish Pelopponese and Crete have also been suggested. Florios kai Platziaflora has been associated with the principality of Achaia, although this hypothesis assumes that Florios is an adaptation of the early 14th-century Italian Il Cantare di Fiorio e Biancifiore, and not of the original French Fleur et Blanchefleur, a theory which is not universally accepted. The Greek translation of Benoît of Saint-Maure’s Roman de Troie (Ho polemos tes Troados), was possibly, as argued by Elizabeth Jeffreys, commissioned by the Achaian chancellor/logothetes with pre-1261 Constantinopolitan connections Leonardo da Veroli (†1281). Kostas Yiavis, while calling Jeffreys’ proposition convincing, nevertheless points out that the translation might just as well have been commissioned by for example Constantinopolitan merchants.64 It is often stated that the Constantinopolitan branch of these romances must have been composed at the court of the first Paleologan emperors in the late 13th or early 14th century. Livistros kai Rhodamne has, however, been dated by Panagiotis Agapitos as having been written earlier at the Laskarid court in N ­ icaea (circa 1240–1260), his arguments being a strong indebtedness to 12th-century Komnenian novels, stylistic resemblance with a Nicaean ceremonial poem on the wedding of John iii Vatatzes and Constance of Hohenstaufen (circa 1244/45), and supposed similarities between Nicaean court ritual and the court ritual portrayed in the romance, and between Theodore ii Laskaris’ (1254–1258) imperial ideology and that in the romance.65 Agapitos’ redating is interesting, of Medieval Greek Romance. A Reassessment of Recent Work (Copenhagen, 1992), 45–89; Elizabeth Jeffreys, “Medieval Greek Epic Poetry,” in K. Reichl, ed., Medieval Oral Literature (Berlin, 2012), 459–477; Carolina Cupane, “In the Realm of Eros: The Late Byzantine Vernacular Romance–Original Texts,” in idem and Bettina Krönung, eds., Fictional Storytelling in the Medieval Eastern Mediterranean and Beyond, Brill’s Companions to the Byzantine World 1 (Leiden, 2016), 95–126. 64 Bouchet, Romans de chevalerie du moyen âge grec, 207–214, 265–272. Beaton, The Medieval Greek Romance, 134–136. Elizabeth Jeffreys, “Byzantine Romances: Eastern or Western?” in Marina S. Brownlee and Dimitri H. Gondicas, eds., Renaissance Encounters: Greek East and Latin West, Medieval and Renaissance Authors and Texts 8 (Leiden, 2013), 221–237. Kostas Yiavis, “The Adaptations of Western Sources by Byzantine Vernacular Romances,” in Carolina Cupane and Bettina Krönung, eds., Fictional Storytelling in the Medieval Eastern Mediterranean and Beyond (Leiden, 2016), 133–134, 148–149. 65 Panagiotis A. Agapitos, “The ‘Court of Amorous Dominion’ and the ‘Gate of Love’: Rituals of Empire in a Byzantine Romance of the Thirteenth Century,” in Alexander Beihammer,

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but it should be noted that 12th-century novels may just as well have been read among the post-1204 Constantinopolitan Byzantine elite; that the raising of a new emperor on a shield, the institution of co-emperorship, and other Byzantine imperial rituals/practices were also known in Latin Constantinople; that the idea of absolute autocracy or the supreme power of Love was a theme quite common in romance literature and does not need to be interpreted politically; and that—regarding chronology—a 14th-century work could just as well have been influenced by a 12th-century novel as a 13th-century romance.66 In the absence of clear chronological clues with regard to dating the Constantinopolitan romances, the question remains that if these were written, as had their 12th-century predecessors, within the milieu of the Nicaean or Paleologan imperial court, then why would they not have been written in the learned Greek language, as were the Komnenian novels, which with regard to other elements do appear to have served as a model for these later works. One must question the change in social context responsible for the switch from learned to vernacular at the imperial court. Agapitos’ generic, but unsatisfactory, explanation is that it was a consequence of what he calls the “disaster of 1204” (“large cracks in the idealized Weltbild, widening of pre-existing artistic rifts”).67 In the second edition of Roderick Beaton’s study on the medieval Greek romances, with regard to Belthandros kai Chrysantza he reflects, among other

66

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Stavroula Constantinou, and Maria Parani, eds., Court Ceremonies and Rituals of Power in Byzantium and the Medieval Mediterranean, The Medieval Mediterranean 88 (Leiden, 2013), 389–416. See also: Idem, “Literature and Education in Nicaea: An Interpretative Introduction,” in Pagona Papadopoulou and Alicia Simpson, eds., The Empire of Nicaea Revisited (Turnhout, forthcoming). The author also is a bit optimistic concerning manuscript production in Laskarid Nicaea (including manuscripts containing the 12th-century Byzantine novels), which according to Giancarlo Prato is hardly attested at all. The manuscripts cited by Agapitos can not be dated to the years 1204–1261 or located in Nicaea with any degree of certainty (Giancarlo Prato, “La produzione libraria in area greco-orientale nel periodo del regno latino di Costantinopoli (1204–1261),” Scrittura e Civiltà 5 (1981) 105– 147; see also: Perez Martin, “The Transmission of Some Writings by Psellos in Thirteenthcentury Constantinople,” 159–174). On the raising, without doubt on a shield, of Emperor Baldwin i (et li marchis Bonifaces de Monferat l’enporte tot avant d’une part enz el mostier): Geoffroy de Villehardouin, La conquête de Constantinople, §261; Du Fresne du Cange, Histoire de l’empire de Constantinople sous les empereurs français, 321; Longnon, L’empire latin de Constantinople, 50; Hendrickx, “Les institutions de l’empire latin de Constantinople (1204–1261): Le pouvoir impérial,” 102–103. For a different opinion: Ionut A. Tudorie, “Old and New in the Byzantine Imperial Coronation in the 13th Century,” Ostkirchliche Studien 60 (2011), 81. On Baldwin ii being probably crowned as co-emperor at the time of his wedding to Mary of Brienne (which I already discussed in Chapter 3): De Mas Latrie, Chronique d’Ernoul et de Bernard le ­trésorier, 472. Panagiotis A. Agapitos, “Genre, structure and poetics in the Byzantine vernacular ­romances of love,” Symbolae Osloenses 79 (2004), 49–52.

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things, on Agapitos’ proposal to date this romance in the later 13th century, stresses the hybrid character, also highlighted by previous authors, of the names of the principal characters—in particular basileus Rodophilos (=Rodulfus or Rudolf) and his younger son and heir Belthrandos (=Bertrand), both of whom are identified as “Romans”—as well as its crusader geography (Anatolia/ Turkey, Tarsus, Antioch). On these reflections he concludes that consideration should be given to the Latin empire of Constantinople (in the sense of, it would seem, Constantinople and the adjoining region under the direct authority of the Latin emperors) as the context—“with its byzantinizing veneer and Greekspeaking population”—in which this romance was composed. An interesting note is that the related name Radulfus ran in the imperial Courtenay family.68 Thus the romance Belthandros kai Chrysantza could have been written at the Latin—and not the Paleologan—imperial court. Indeed, what other context fits the production of a Greek novel about both a Roman emperor and his heir with names that are Western in origin better? Put otherwise: who at the Paleologan court after the 1204 trauma would have been charmed by a novel featuring a clearly Western-sounding imperial dynasty. The same could be argued from a narrativistic point of view for the more sophisticated Livistros kai Rhodamne, although this seemed not likely to Beaton. But again this is a very Latin romance: the principal character Livistros is a prince from a fictional Latin land (Livandros) who through marriage becomes king of a Greek land (Argyrokastron). It is unlikely that anyone at the Laskarid or Paleologan court would have been captivated by such an original story. A telling detail , without attempting a thorough analysis here, may be the name of the confidant of Livistros’ bride to be (Betanos). This un-Byzantine name closely resembles the name of one of Latin Constantinople’s leading families which provided the emperors with trusted advisers, the Béthune’s.69 68

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Roderick Beaton, The Medieval Greek Romance. 2nd ed., rev. and exp. (London, 1996), 219– 220. Belthandros’ older brother—a minor character in the novel—is called Philarmos, a variation of the name Philemon (which was known in both Western Europe and Byzantium). Chrysantza (or “golden flower”) could perhaps be reminiscent of the Capetian coat of arms (with fleur-de-lys or); the Courtenay were as mentioned a younger branch of the French royal lineage. Interesting also is that a number of (earlier) authors are of the opinion that Belthandros must be a Greek translation of a lost Western original, see, for example, Alexander A. Vasiliev, History of the Byzantine Empire, 324–1453 (Madison, 1952), 2:557–559. Baldwin ii’s uncle Robert, grand butler of France, had a son named Radulfus or Raoul (†1270), who in 1265 would relocate to the kingdom of Sicily in the context of Charles of Anjou’s expedition there (Maria E. Caffarelli, “Courtenay, Raoul de,” in Dizionario biografico degli Italiani 30 (Rome, 1984), 498–499. Baldwin kept in contact with the branches of the Courtenay family established in France: for example another nephew of his, Robert of Tanlay/Courtenay, participated in the 1238–1240 crusade in aid of Constantinople (Gregorius ix, Les registres, n° 4628). It is noteworthy in this context that even Agapitos has concluded that Belthandros and Livistros show the most tangible thematic and structural similarities to their French

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The ethnic-culturally mixed Latin imperial court provided the ideal social context for the decisive switch from learned to vernacular Greek in fictional literature, romances in particular. Here Latin and Byzantine barons/magnates and dignitaries/functionaries lived side by side during the entire period 1204– 1261. The Byzantine element was much more prominent than it ever was at the Latin princely courts in southern Greece (or the Latin element at the Paleologan court after 1261, for example Andronikos ii’s second wife Yolande/Irene of Montferrat, a distant relative of Baldwin ii).70 In Constantinople several leading Latin families—e.g., the Toucy’s and the Cayeux—intermarried with the Byzantine elite (the Branai and the Laskarids). Through these marriages their social networks within the capital must have included the metropolitan Byzantine elite who had chosen to stay after 1204 (Akropolitai, Angeloi, Matzukai, Mesaritai, Philokalai, Tornikai, etc.). Similarities existed between the class ethics and values of the Latin and Byzantine (military) aristocracies.71 While as I argued earlier some Byzantines learned Western languages, members of prominent Latin families who were born in Constantinople certainly knew Greek. Anselin of Toucy, whose mother was a Branaina and whose brother Philip was imperial regent for a time (as had been his father Narjot i), according to the French version of the Chronicle of Morea, knew la langue et les manieres des Grex because he was born in Romania.72 These mixed LatinByzantine households must have been bilingual, and life at the imperial court must equally up to a point have been bilingual, especially during the later decades. It would follow that entertainment at court and in these households must have been bilingual as well. Festive occasions where Western vernacular

c­ ounterparts (Panagiotis A. Agapitos, “In Rhomaian, Frankish and Persian Lands: Fiction and Fictionality in Byzantium and Beyond,” in idem and Lars B. Mortensen, eds., ­Medieval ­Narratives between History and Fiction. From the Centre to the Periphery of Europe, c. 1100– 1400 (Copenhagen, 2012), 306). Romina Luzi with regard to Livistros has also pointed out the author’s mastery of Western courteous and fabulous elements, which are successfully mixed with Byzantine elements (Romina Luzi, “Les romans paléologues: à la charnière de plusieurs traditions,” in Emese Egedi-Kovács, ed., Byzance et l’Occident iii. Ecrits et manuscrits, Antiquitas–Byzantium–Renascentia 23 (Budapest, 2016), 75–76). In another contribution Luzi misspells the name of Rhodamne’s confidant Betanos as Bretanos, while trying to establish an onomastic link between the Livistros and George of Pelagonia’s (14th century) hagiographical account of Emperor John iii Vatatzes’ life (idem, “Les lecteurs des romans byzantins,” in Emese Egedi-Kovács, ed., Byzance et l’Occident iii. Ecrits et manuscrits, Antiquitas–Byzantium–Renascentia 23 (Budapest, 2016), 287). 70 See references in Chapter 2, note 16. 71 Kyriakidis, Warfare in Late Byzantium, 45–59. 72 See references in Chapter 2, note 18 (“the language and customs of the Greeks”). Michael Angold underestimates the frequency of mixed marriages. The author misses a number of instances in the available source material (Angold, “The Latin Empire of Constantinople, 1204–1261: Marriage Strategies,” 47–67).

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romances were read for mixed audience would likely have had simultaneous Greek translations provided. In the wake of such occasions, and against the background of the 12thcentury revival of the Hellenistic novel, Byzantines—those connected to the imperial court or to these households—may have been inspired to translate such romances and compose original ones partially modeled after these Western works that were available in Latin Constantinople. The switch from learned Greek to vernacular is understandable in this context: most autochthonous Latins who knew Greek probably only knew vernacular Greek. It would have been natural then for Byzantine authors writing for a mixed court or household, and perhaps with the 12th-century vernacular experiments in mind, to have used the vernacular for their creations. In Baldwin ii’s entourage there were certainly people who could have composed such a work (hupogrammateus Maximos Aloubardes and his colleague Nikephoritzes, phylax John, or priest Demetrios (possibly to be identified with epi ton deeseon Demetrios Pyrros).73 Some members of the local Byzantine elite engaged in some kind of literary activity, as is exemplified by the correspondence between megas doux Philokales (1214), who was connected to the Venetian Navigaioso family, and an unnamed Constantinopolitan noble lady and the patriarchs of Nicaea Theodore ii Eirenikos (1214–1216) and Germanos ii (1223–1240).74 People such as Philokales and this anonymous lady who practiced epistolography might also have engaged in other types of literature, either personally or as patron. From Latin Constantinople this innovative development may have spread to southern Latin Greece. In this hypothetical scenario the Achaian chancellor/logothetes Leonardo da Veroli, who as mentioned has recently been suggested as the patron of the Greek translation of Benoît of Saint-Maure’s Roman de Troie (circa 73

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See references in Chapter 2, notes 33–35. The context of the Latin imperial court in this way resembled the Paleologan court, which as said is usually considered as the place where these original vernacular romances originated. But the features (mixed composition of the court, presence of Western literature, Byzantines knowing Latin) which are usally invoked to explain the composition of these romances were in my view more poignantly present at the Latin imperial court (Cf Dusan Popovic, “Discontinuity and Continuity of Byzantine Literary Tradition After the Crusaders’ Capture of Constantinople: The Case of ‘Original’ Byzantine Novels,” in Vlada Stankovic, ed., The Balkans and the Byzantine World before and after the Captures of Constantinople, 1204 and 1453 (Lanham, 2016), 26–27). The letters of these Constantinopolitan inhabitants have not been preserved, but they are referred to in the following patriarchal response letters: Vitalien Laurent, ed., Les regestes des actes du patriarcat de Constantinople 1: Les actes des patriarches 4: Les regestes de 1208 à 1309, Publications de l’institut français d’études byzantines (Paris, 1971), n° 1219, n° 1233; Dondaine, “‘Contra Graecos.’ Premiers écrits polémiques des Dominicains d’Orient,” 376–377.

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1267–1281), could have been the agent bringing the development to the Villehardouin principality. In 1252 Veroli married Constantinopolitan magnate Narjot i of Toucy’s daughter Margaret, whose mother was a daughter of Theodore Branas, feudal lord of Adrianople, and his wife ex-empress Agnes of France (sister of Philip II August).75 3

Religious Literature and Theology

Various types of religious literature are also attested in Latin Constantinople. The well-known transfer of numerous relics to the West after 1204 elicited a number of texts. Apart from the many charters by Constantinopolitan ecclesiastical or imperial authorities authenticating these relics, translation reports were created. These reports were mostly written after the relics arrived at their new homes.76 Hagiographical works, however, were also being composed in the regia civitas. A 1215 letter by Angermer, lector of the episcopal church of Chalcedon, to the bishop and chapter of Troyes in Champagne sheds some light on this. The author, a Champenois who had been living in the Byzantine capital well before 1204 and who had learned Greek, relates how—at the request of bishop Hervé’s chaplain John, who arrived in Constantinople in May 1215—he assembled a compendium on the life of Saint Helen of Athyra, wherein he translated fragments of various Greek texts containing information about the saint (probably including a vita attributed to John Chrysostom). In order to do so, Angermer visited the ancient libraries of probably several metropolitan churches. His biographical compendium, or perhaps rather his compilatory vita, has however not been preserved.77 75

On this marriage: Innocentius iv, Les registres, n° 5647; Antoine Bon, La Morée Franque. Recherches historiques, topographiques et archéologiques sur la principauté d’Achaïe (1205– 1430), Bibliothèque des Ecoles françaises d’Athènes et de Rome 213 (Paris, 1969), 127; Longnon, “Le rattachement de la Principauté de Morée au Royaume de Sicile en 1267,” 140. 76 See a number of charters and translation reports for the period from 1204 until the 1250s in Riant, Exuviae sacrae Constantinopolitanae. In general on the transfer of relics to the West: George P. Majeska, “The Relics of Constantinople after 1204,” in Jannic Durand and Bernard Flusin, eds., Byzance et les reliques du Christ, Travaux et Mémoires 17 (Paris, 2004), 183–190. 77 Riant, Exuviae sacrae Constantinopolitanae, 2:n° 44, 105–106. On the cult of Saint Helen of Athyra in Troyes: Giles Constable, “Troyes, Constantinople, and the relics of St Helen in the thirteenth century,” in Pierre Gallais and Yves-Jean Riou, eds, Mélanges offerts ā René Crozet (Poitiers, 1966), 1035–1042; Patrick J. Geary, “Saint Helen of Athyra and the cathedral of Troyes in the thirteenth century,” The Journal of medieval and Renaissance studies 7 (1977), 149–168.

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It is quite possible that Angermer’s compilatory endeavor was not an isolated piece of work. It could be hypothesized that for the use of his own church, with its own collection of saintly relics, this same cleric may have composed hagiographical translations or adaptations as well. His knowledge of Greek indeed may well be one of the reasons he obtained the position of lector in Chalcedon: not only could he valorize the local episcopal archives and library, but he could also provide fluent communication with the Byzantine clergy and faithful. The situation in Constantinopolitan churches occupied by Latin clerics, collegiate or not, may at least sometimes have been similar. Robert Nelson has shown that Greek illuminated manuscripts were consulted and annotated by Latins clerics during the period 1204–1261, for example at the Saint George of Mangana monastery.78 Byzantine clerics perhaps assisted Angermer, and his colleagues, with their research in the libraries. Given the fact that he resided in Constantinople years before 1204, Angermer certainly must have had a social network comprised of local Byzantines whom he could consult. Latins appealing to Byzantines for assistance authenticating relics are attested in charters.79 Further instances of Latin-Byzantine cooperation in the religious sphere are attested. In any case, the daily religious life could intersect the dogmatical and liturgical Latin-Byzantine divide. Angermer in the cited letter mentions how the feast of Saint Helen of Athyra was celebrated by the entire metropolitan province, less cheerfully, however, than before since her relics had been taken away. Their removal, according to the lector, was regretted by the entire province, which implies not only local Byzantines but also the Latin newcomers (or pre-1204 residents such as Angermer) who had settled there and clearly identified with their new home. Dogmatic and liturgical differences between the Latins and Byzantines of course were also a feature of intellectual life in the capital. The major debates and negotiations concerning ecclesiastical union between the successive popes and their representatives (legates or friars) and the Byzantine Constantinopolitan clergy (1206) and later the patriarchs and emperors of Nicaea (1214, 1232–34, 1254–56), are well documented and have been studied quite thoroughly.80 The local Latin-Byzantine theological dialogue which continued in 78

79 80

Robert S. Nelson, “The Italian appreciation and appropriation of illuminated Byzantine manuscripts, ca. 1200–1450,” Dumbarton Oaks Papers 49 (1995), 212–213. On the Latin-­ occupied churches: Janin, “Les sanctuaires de Byzance sous la domination latine,” 134– 184. See also Wolff, “Politics in the Latin Patriarchate of Constantinople,” 225–303. See, for example, (in 1245): Riant, Exuviae sacrae Constantinopolitanae, 2:n° 76, 131–132. Some studies (with references to further literature): Daniel Stiernon, “Le problème de l’union gréco-latine vu de Byzance. De Germain ii à Joseph Ier (1232–1273),” in 1274, ­année charnière. Mutations et continuités (Paris, 1977), 139–166; Joseph Gill, Byzantium and the

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the capital after 1206, however, has by comparison been largely neglected. A main exemplar in this regard is the Tractatus Contra Graecos, written in the Dominican convent of Constantinople in 1252 and a major influence on later 14th-century treatises and on 15th-century ecclesiastical union negotiations. Its author was a local mendicant who, in 1234, during the negotiations on ecclesiastical union in Nicaea and Nymphaion had been a member of the Latin delegation, which was led by two Franciscans and two Dominicans sent from the West by Pope Gregory ix.81 This treatise for the first time defended the Latin position with regard to all the main contentions between the two Churches in a systematic way (the filioque question, the issues of the azymes, papal primacy, and—a première— the purgatory), and, a truly innovative element, largely based on a variety of Greek sources that had not yet been translated into Latin—the Greek Church Fathers (John Chrysostom, Athanasios, Cyril of Alexandria, Gregory of Nyssa, etc.), the Greek translation of the Donatio Constantini by the 12th-century canonist and titular Byzantine patriarch of Antioch, Theodore Balsamon (contained in his scholia on the Nomokanon by patriarch Photios i), fragments of a letter attributed to John Chrysostom but actually written by the 12th-century theologian and philosopher Theorianos (who conducted unionist negotiations with the Armenian Church on behalf of Emperor Manuel i Komnenos), a Greek treatise on the oecumenical councils, and a letter on the azymes issue by the Byzantine patriarch of Constantinople in exile in Nicaea Germanos ii (1223–1240) addressed to a noble Constantinopolitan lady.82

81

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papacy, 1198–1400 (New Brunswick, 1979); Michel Stavrou, “Les tentatives gréco-latines de rapprochement ecclésial au 13e siècle,” in Marie-Hélène Blanchet and Frédéric Gabriel, eds., Réduire le schisme? Ecclésiologies et politiques de l’Union entre Orient et Occident (XIIIe–XVIIIe siècle), Monographies du centre de recherche d’histoire et civilisation de Byzance 39 (Paris, 2013), 41–56; John Zizioulas, “Efforts towards the Union of the Churches after the Fourth Crusade,” in Angeliki Laiou, ed., Urbs capta. The Fourth Crusade and its consequences (Paris, 2005), 345–354; Christian Gastgeber, “Die Eroberung Konstantinopels während des vierten Kreuzzuges und die Haltung von Papst Innozenz. iii,” in Theodor Nikolau, ed., Das Schisma zwischen Ost- Und Westkirche 950 bzw. 800 danach (1054 und 1204), Beiträge aus dem Zentrum für ökumenische Forschung München (Münster, 2004), 43–71; Theodor Nikolau, “Vervollständigung des Schismas zwischen Ost- und Westkirche im Jahr 1204 und die Anfänge des Uniatismus,” in idem, Das Schisma zwischen OstUnd Westkirche 950 bzw. 800 danach (1054 und 1204) (see previous reference), 73–95. On these negotiations, see the contemporary report by the Latin delegation: Girolamo Golubovich, “Disputatio Latinorum et Grecorum seu relatio Apocrisariorum Gregorii ix de Gestis Nicaeae in Bithynia et Nymphaeae in Lydia,” Archivum Franciscanum Historicum 12 (1919), 418–470. A very valuable analysis of the treatise in Dondaine, “‘Contra Graecos.’ Premiers écrits polémiques des Dominicains d’Orient,” 321–446. A non-critical edition is available in

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Antoine Dondaine has emphasized that the anonymous author of the treatise must have been familiar with these Greek sources from years consulting the libraries of the patriarchate and metropolitan monasteries, much like the Chalcedonian lector Angermer and his colleague from the Mangana monastery. Several passages in the treatise explicitly attest to this. Apart from the abundant and innovative use of these sources, the treatise’s most striking characteristic is that it was originally published as a bilingual work. Both Raymond Loenertz and Dondaine have proved this beyond doubt. Fragments of the Greek version have been preserved in other treatises and other elements also point to its composition, although the complete Greek version of the Tractatus has not been preserved.83 This last fact may be taken as meaningful, in the sense that it is an indication that pre-1261 pro-Latin texts in Greek had slim chances of survival in post-1261 Constantinople (see also the historical texts whose existence I hypothesized). That the treatise was written in both Latin and Greek shows that it was intended for a mixed audience. It was clearly intended to also address the Byzantine community in Constantinople, presumably not only the clergy but educated lay people as well. This last intention can be confirmed by the fact that the author as one of his sources used the letter by Nicaean patriarch Germanos ii to a Greek Constantinopolitan lady (nobilis domina) who had consulted him on issues dividing the Latin and Byzantine Churches. That Germanos’ reply was known by our Dominican author suggests that there was some connection between the Dominican convent and the lady in question, an indication of a shared social network. Indeed, Dondaine suggested that the lady possibly chose to seek out the Latin clergy’s opinion concerning the validity of the patriarch’s counterarguments. We don’t know this lady’s identity, but it seems safe to assume that she belonged to the city’s elite and probably entertained close relations with the Latin aristocracy (such as members of the Branas or Angelos families).

83

Peter Stevart and Jean-Paul Migne, eds., Tractatus Contra Errores Graecorum, Patrologia Graeca 140 (Paris, 1887), 487–574 (a reimpression of Stevart’s 1616 edition). See also, Claudine Delacroix-Besnier, “Les prêcheurs, du dialogue à la polémique (XIIIe–XIVe siècle),” in Martin Hinterberger and Chris Schabel, eds., Greeks, Latins, and Intellectual History 1204–1500, Bibliotheca 11 (Leuven, 2011), 151–167; Andrea Riedl, “Das Purgatorium im 13. Jahrhundert: Schlaglichter auf ein Novum der ost-westlichen Kontroverstheologie am Vorabend des ii. Konzils von Lyon (1274),” Annuarium Historiae Conciliorum 40 (2014), 363–370. To be published in the near future is Riedl’s PhD dissertation on Latin-Byzantine controversial theology, with a special focus on the 1252 treatise (in the De Gruyter series Quellen und Forschungen zur Geschichte des Dominikanerordens). Dondaine, “‘Contra Graecos.’ Premiers écrits polémiques des Dominicains d’Orient,” 328– 329, 351. Raymond Loenertz, “Autour du traité de fr. Barthélemy de Constantinople contre les Grecs,” Archivum Fratrum Praedicatorum 6 (1936), 366–369.

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The letter by megas doux Philokales (1214) to patriarch Theodore ii Eirenikos should be seen in this context as well.84 In this way the 1252 treatise attests to an interreligious dialogue in the capital between the two communities, the scale or continuity of which is difficult to evaluate due to the paucity of the source material. A local Byzantine contribution to this dialogue is found in a manuscript containing an anecdotic note defending the Byzantine standpoint on the issue of the azymes, which was composed in the context of the papalNicaean negotiations on ecclesiastical union in 1214.85 During the first years after 1204, the initial despoliation and appropriation of churches, the theft of relics, and the persecutive methods of some papal legates (Pelagius in 1213, who caused a number of monks to emigrate to Nicaea, and to a lesser degree Giovanni Colonna in 1218) must have been an exacerbating factor in the relations between the religious communities. However, as time passed and positive action was taken, such as Emperor Henry forcefully opposing Pelagius’ coersive approach, relations may have gradually changed into a pattern of accomodation, allowing for a more peaceful and respectful dialogue. Reports of any serious Latin-Byzantine religious, or other, conflicts in the capital in the later decades of Latin rule are largely lacking, certainly after the mid-1230s. Elizabeth Fisher has proposed that the Byzantine Saint John Prodromos monastery, which according to an undated letter from the Nicaean patriarch Germanos ii (1223–1240), had successfully resisted “Latin vexations,” may have been a point of contact between Latin and Byzantine monastic communities.86 Against the background of the 1204 change in the political situation, with both secular and ecclesiastical power ultimately in Latin hands, this dialogue convinced at least some Byzantines to embrace the Latin Church (dogma, liturgy, papal obedience). 84 85

86

See references in note 74. Athanasios Papadopoulos-Kerameus, “Documents grecs pour servir à l’histoire de la Quatrième croisade (liturgie et reliques),” Revue de l’Orient latin 1 (1893), 540–555. Johannes M. Hoeck and Raymond-Joseph Loenertz, Nikolaos–Nektarios von Otranto. Abt von Casole, Studia patristica et bizantina 11 (Ettal, 1965), 39–40. On Pelagius and Colonna: Van Tricht, The Latin Renovatio of Byzantium, 314–321 (with further references). On anti-Byzantine feelings among part of the Latin elite: Van Tricht, “Robert of Courtenay,” 1031–1032. Around 1230 or 1234 Germanos had still appealed to the Latin patriarch, either Simon of Maugastel (1227–1233) or Nicolao della Porta (1234–1251) to set free emprisoned Byzantine clerics (Laurent, Les regestes des actes du patriarcat de Constantinople, n° 1277). Elizabeth Fisher, “Manuel Holobolos and the Role of Bilinguals in Relations Between the West and Byzantium,” in Andreas Speer, ed., Knotenpunkt Byzanz, Miscellanea Mediaevalia (New York and Berlin, 2012), 212. The author is in my view wrong in following Janin’s hypothesis that the Saint John Prodromos monastery was occupied by Latin monks (see reference in Chapter 7, note 12). See also note 80.

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The number of Byzantines embracing the Latin Church is once again hard to assess, but the priest Demetrios, who as a member of Baldwin ii’s entourage received the assignment to build a church devoted to Saint George, may serve as an example. The pauper mulier Constantinopolitana Theodora—who around 1232 appealed to Gregory ix , which seems to indicate that she was not without means, in order to divorce her husband B (who she accused of being a heretic)—may be another.87 One might perhaps doubt the sincerity of such conversions, although for example in Antioch—Constantinople’s feudal dependency—in 1246 the new, probably locally elected, Orthodox patriarch David himself had recognized papal authority.88 The fact that B ­ yzantines also joined Western religious orders in any case points to convinction. The contemporary Italian chronicler Salimbene de Adam mentions a “lector Constantinopolitanus Thomas Grecus ex ordine Minorum qui sanctus homo erat et Grece et Latine loquebatur,” whose surname indicates that he was a Byzantine Greek, who acted as John iii Vatatzes’ messenger to Innocent iv in 1249. There was a second messenger, also a Franciscan, who is described as “Grecus ex uno parente et Latinus ex altera.” A partial Greek translation of the Franciscan Rule, composed by a 13th-century Byzantine native, may well have been written by this Thomas Grecus or one of his companions, as Elizabeth Fisher has argued.89 During the preparations of the Second Council of Lyons the Byzantine Constantinopolitan Franciscan John Parastron/Parastos served as a messenger to Emperor Michael viii (from 1270). Because of his conciliatory stance he became so popular in the capital that after his death in 1275 Emperor Michael and the uniate clergy petitioned his canonization in Rome.90 No doubt he had 87 Honorius iii et Gregorius ix, Acta, n° 182. 88 Lucas, hieromonachos of the Hagios Mamas-monastery for example claimed to have been forced around 1234 by Dominicans to sign a written document confirming he accepted the Latin position on the azymes issue. He (succesfully) appealed to the Nicaean patriarch Germanos ii to be forgiven. Basileios Gemistos, deacon of Saint Sophia, likewise at one point appealed to Germanos to be forgiven after first having accepted the Latin dogma. See Laurent, Les regestes des actes du patriarcat de Constantinople, n° 1287, n° 1304. On Patriarch David, see: Bernard Hamilton, The Latin Church in the Crusader States. The Secular Church (London, 1980). 89 Salimbene de Adam, Cronica, ed. G. Scalia, Corpus Christianorum. Continuatio Mediaevalis (Turnhout, 1998), 1:489 (“Constantinopolitan lector Thomas the Greek, a Franciscan who was a saintly man and who spoke Greek and Latin” and “Greek by one parent and Latin by the other”). Sévérien Salaville, “Fragment inédit de traduction grecque de la Règle de saint François,” Échos d’Orient 28 (1929), 167–172. Elizabeth Fisher, “Homo Byzantinus and Homo Italicus in Late 13th-century Constantinople,” in Jan M. Ziolkowski, ed., Dante and the Greeks, Dumbarton Oaks Medieval Humanities (Washington D.C., 2014), 69. 90 Elizabeth Fisher, “Monks, Monasteries and the Latin Language in Constantinople,” in Ayla Ödekan, Engin Akyürek, and Nevra Necipoglu, eds., Change in the Byzantine World in the Twelfth and Thirteenth Centuries (Istanbul, 2010), 392–393.

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entered the Franciscan metropolitan convent before 1261. The Dominicans also recruited local Byzantines. Marie-Hélène Congourdeau has convincingly shown that frater Simon the Constantinopolitan was a Byzantine Greek. Born around 1235 he entered the Constantinopolitan convent sometime before 1261. After Michael viii’s conquest of the city he sought refuge in Euboia, but returned to the capital in 1299. Four letters in Greek by him discussing the differences between the Latin and Byzantine Churches, addressed to Emperor Andronikos ii Paleologos (1282–1328) and various prominent Byzantine intellectuals and dignitaries, have been preserved (while at least three others have been lost). Members of the highest Byzantine aristocracy also entered Western orders: in 1267 Demeta Paleologina – a relative of Emperor Michael VIII – is attested as abbess of Sancta Maria de Verge near Modon in Achaia.91 A number of Greek translations and transcriptions in Greek letters of the Latin liturgy apparently made in early 13th-century Constantinople, may well have been used by Byzantine clerics working in a Latin milieu (the imperial court, Latin religious institutions, etc.), allowing them to fully understand the Latin liturgy, and to read a Latin mass if they were not familiar with the Latin alphabet.92 4

Philosophy and Other Sciences

Switching from religious and theological literature to philosophy I would like to argue here that the famed William of Moerbeke (†1286) began his career as author of competent Latin translations of numerous works by classical Greek authors, which rapidly became influential, in Constantinople. Very little is known about William’s early life. He is called both a Flemingus and a 91

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Marie-Hélène Congourdeau, “Frère Simon le Constantinopolitain, O.P. (1235?–1325?),” Revue des études byzantines 45 (1987), 165–174. Ferdinando Ughelli, ed., Italia Sacra, vol. 7 (2nd. ed., Venice, 1721), 706–709. On Demeta see also my forthcoming publication: Van Tricht, “Being Byzantine in the post-1204 Empire of Constantinople: Continuity and Change”. Brendan McGuire’s analysis of the nature of these texts in my view convincingly shows that these (especially the awkard transcription in Greek letters) could not exlusively have been produced and/or used in the context of the discussions on ecclesiastical union of 1214 by the Byzantine delegation led by Nicholas Mesarites, as Loenertz and Hoeck had suggested earlier. See Brendan J. McGuire, “Evidence for religious accomodation in Latin Constantinople: a new approach to bilingual liturgical texts,” Journal of Medieval History 39 (2013), 342–356. Papadopoulos-Kerameus, “Documents grecs pour servir à l’histoire de la Quatrième croisade,” 540–555. Hoeck and Loenertz, Nikolaos-Nektarios von Otranto, 39–40. See also, Jean Darrouzès, “Conference sur la primauté du Pape à Constantinople en 1357,” Revue des études byzantines 19 (1961) 81. Fisher, “Homo Byzantinus and Homo Italicus in Late 13th-century Constantinople,” 69.

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Brabantinus by several early 14th-century sources, which suggests that his surname refers to the village of Moerbeke near Geraardsbergen situated near the border between the county of Flanders and the duchy of Brabant (and not to Moerbeke-Waas between Ghent and Antwerp, or Morbecque near Hazebrouck in northern France). Possibly he can be identified with the lettered magister Guilelmus, born in this region and mentioned by Thomas of Cantimpré (as the source of an anecdote he relates), but this is by no means certain.93 In fact he does not need to have been born there at all; his surname may indeed not point to his place of birth, but to the lineage he belonged to. A family of “Moerbeke” is attested among the vassals of the lords of Boelare in the county of Flanders.94 Interesting in this context is that Gilles ii of Trazegnies, who was married to the heiress of the lordship of Boelare, A ­ leidis, participated in the Fourth Crusade. He sailed from Apulia to Syria in 1202 and died en route to Antioch shortly after.95 It is possible that members of the Moerbeke family, not important enough to be mentioned by chroniclers of the Fourth Crusade, accompanied their lord on this expedition and came to Constantinople. William might then have been a scion of a branch of the family that set itself up there, although this must remain speculation. It has been hypothesized that William studied at the studium of the Dominican convent of Cologne (with Albert the Great as lecturer), but since any evidence substantiating this claim is lacking, this must remain speculative as well. In any case, a Constantinopolitan birth does not exclude studies abroad, although William may just as well have received his education in the Queen of Cities (in the Dominican convent or not).96 The earliest bits of information concerning William’s life are contained in the explicits preserved in a number of manuscripts of his translations. Several manuscripts contain an explicit to his translation of Alexander of Aphrodisia’s commentary on Aristotle’s Meteorologica, stating that it was completed on 24 April 1260 apud Niceam urbem in Grecia. Most authors have identified this city with Nicaea, the capital of the Laskarid empire in Bithynia—the term Grecia could include Byzantine possessions in Asia Minor. Some have suggested that Niceam is a corruption of Nicleam, which then should be identified with Amyklai in the Peloponnese (also called Nikli, but in the papal registers normally as 93 94

Pattin, “Pour la biographie de Guillaume de Moerbeke O.P.,” 390–392. Fernand Bossier, “Documents d’archives concernant une famille ‘de Moerbeke,’” in Jozef Brams and Willy Vanhamel, eds., Guillaume de Moerbeke. Recueil d’études à l’occasion du 700e anniversaire de sa mort (1286) (Leuven, 1989), 385–400. 95 Longnon, Les compagnons de Villehardouin, 23–24. 96 Archbishop and chronicler William of Tyre is one example of a cleric born in the ­Latin East (Jerusalem) who studied for many years (circa 1146–1165) in the West (Peter W. ­Edbury and John G. Rowe, William of Tyre. Historian of the Latin East, Cambridge Studies in Medieval Life and Thought, 4th series, 8 (Cambridge, 1988), 13–15).

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Amiclensis). There is no reason, however, to suppose an error in the explicit (which has been preserved in more than one manuscript), and although Nikli was a fortified town—and an episcopal see until 1222, when it was allocated to the bishopric of Sparta—a description as urbs seems excessive (civitas or castrum would have been more suitable).97 A Florentine manuscript mentions that on 23 December 1260 (or perhaps 1259) William finished his translation of Aristotle’s De partibus animalium (or according to Fernand Bossier possibly one of the other “animal books” by Aristotle) in Thebes, which was part of the duchy of Athens and where there was a Dominican establishment.98 There is a general consensus that both these accomplished translations cannot have been William’s first efforts, and that by this time he had already sojourned in Romania for a prolonged period of time. Both Martin Grabmann and Antoine Dondaine, on the basis of the data mentioned, have hypothesized that William was based in Frankish Morea (Athens by this time was feudally dependent on the princes of Achaia), Dondaine going so far as to suggest that his presence in Nicaea should be seen as part of some diplomatic mission with regard to the captivity of prince of Achaia William ii of Villehardouin after the battle of Pelagonia in 1259.99 However, there is nothing to indicate that the Dominican convent of Thebes by 1260 would have been a notable intellectual center, although every Dominican convent was required to have its own lector who was responsible for the theological education of his fellow friars (and interested outsiders as well).100 Mentioned for the first time in a papal letter dated 1253, the convent 97

See for a discussion with further references: Vanhamel, “Biobibliographie de Guillaume de Moerbeke,” 309. In 1245 Innocent iv confirmed the earlier allocation by papal legate John Colonna of the bishopric of Nikli to Sparta (Innocentius iv, Les registres, n° 1385). 98 Vanhamel, “Biobibliographie de Guillaume de Moerbeke,” 310, 332–334. Pietro Rossi, “La Translatio anonyma e la Translatio Guillelmi del De partibus animalium (analisi del libro I),” in Jozef Brams and Willy Vanhamel, eds., Guillaume de Moerbeke. Recueil d’études à l’occasion du 700e anniversaire de sa mort (1286) (Leuven, 1989), 223. Fernand Bossier, “Méthode de traduction et problèmes de chronologie,” in Brams and Vanhamel, eds., Guillaume de Moerbeke (see previous reference), 289. 99 Martin Grabmann, Guglielmo di Moerbeke O.P., il traduttore delle opere di Aristotele, Miscellanea Historiae Pontificiae 11/20 (Rome, 1946), 38–40. Antoine Dondaine, Secrétaires de Saint Thomas, Publications de la Commission léonine pour l’édition des oeuvres de saint Thomas d’Aquin (Rome, 1956), 196–197. 100 Nicholas Coureas nevertheless deduces from this sole explicit that the Thebes convent was a center of scholarship aiming at the translation of Aristotle’s works (Nicholas Coureas, “The Latin and Greek Churches in Former Byzantine Lands,” in Nickiphoros I. Tsougarakis and Peter Lock, eds., A Companion to Latin Greece, Brill’s Companions to European History 6 (Leiden, 2014), 177–178). On the general Dominican emphasis on learning and education, see, for example, William A. Hinnebusch, “The Dominican Order and Learning,” in idem, The History of the Dominican Order, vol. 2: The Intellectual and Cultural

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may have been a fairly recent foundation. This contrasts with the Dominican establishment in Constantinople: in existence by 1233 the Contra Graecos treatise alone proves that this was a center of notable intellectual activity. The anonymous author of the treatise was fluent in Greek and greatly interested in Greek theological literature and, with the presence of Byzantine Dominicans such as Simon the Constantinopolitan, there were people available who could have instructed William in Greek and helped him with his research into Greek philosophical literature. It stands to reason that for a translator in Latin Romania, the libraries of the Constantinopolitan ecclesiastical institutions would have been the obvious place to look for copies of works to be translated, since these no doubt possessed more extensive collections compared with those of provincial establishments. Here too he could well have been assisted in his research by Byzantine Greeks such as his fellow Dominicans. Such metropolitan research could then have been augmented with forays into provincial libraries when an opportunity presented itself. This is, in my opinion, how the preserved explicits should be interpreted. Nicaea simply cannot have been William’s habitual place of residence. Why would the same not apply to Thebes? Perhaps William added these locations in the explicits precisely because he was not working in his habitual environment. A number of his early translations (before 1262) contain no information concerning the location where they were produced, nor date.101 This of course could be due to the vicissitudes in the preservation of the manuscripts, but could also be explained by the assumption that they were created in what was his habitual working place, presumably the Dominican convent in the capital. William’s presence in Thebes and Nicaea might be explained in the context of the operation of the Greek Dominican province, as purely intellectual enterprises, or due to diplomatic missions, as Grabmann and Dondaine suggested with regard to Nicaea. Such missions need not have been an Achaian undertaking. Baldwin ii’s grant of the kingdom of Thessaloniki to tercierus Guglielmo i of Verona and Helena Angelos in 1240 or his hupogrammateus Nikephoritzes’ financial mission to Otho of Cicon, lord of Karystos, sometime before 1261, indicate that the Latin emperor maintained active contacts with his southern vassals. This

Life to 1500 (New York, 1973), 3–18. Leonard Boyle, “Notes on the education of the Fratres communes in the Dominican Order in the thirteenth century,” in Raymond Creytens and Pius Künzle, eds., Xenia medii aevi historiam illustrantia oblata Thomae Kaeppeli O.P., Storia e letteratura 1 (Rome, 1978), 249–267. Marian M. Mulchahey, “First the Bow is Bent in Study …”: Dominican Education before 1350, Studies and Texts 132 (Toronto, 1998). 101 See for these early translations (hypothetically dated based on aspects of the used method of translation): Bossier, “Méthode de traduction et problèmes de chronologie,” 286–290.

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is also borne out by Baldwin’s involvement in the 1259 Pelagonia alliance, together with the prince of Achaia, William ii of Villehardouin.102 There were also diplomatic exchanges with Nicaea around 1260. Following Michael viii’s failed offensive against Constantinople and Galata in late 1259–early 1260, Baldwin ii unsuccessfully tried to negotiate a truce with Nicaea.103 Furthermore, the imperial authorities in Constantinople are known to have employed Dominicans as envoys. For example, in 1238 knight Nicolas of Sorel and two Dominican friars served as messengers of regent Narjot i of Toucy and the ­Constantinopolitan barons to Venice with regard to the pawning of the Crown of Thorns.104 The Dominicans knew to find imperial authorities when needed. In the early 1230s, friar Peter of Sézanne, one of the envoys sent by pope Gregory ix to discuss ecclesiastical union with the Nicaean authorities, contacted the imperial castellan of Constantinople to deal with a person described as a blasphemous Islamic monk (possibly a Muslim belonging to a Sufi congregation), who allegedly was subsequently converted to Christianity. The incident is interesting since it attests to a Muslim presence in Constantinople after 1204. This presence hitherto has been questioned by scholars such as Stephen Reinert and Glaire Anderson in view of the burning in 1203 of the Syrian Mitaton (or quarter, including a space for prayer)— probably located near or along the Golden Horn—by a group of crusaders, after the Constantinopolitan mosque (Dar-el-Balat) near the Hippodrome had already been destroyed by the Byzantine population in 1201.105 Such a presence, however, should not be surprising given the diplomatic and commercial contacts with the Seljuk sultans of Konya in the years 1204–1261.106 That there may have been a personal connection between William and Baldwin ii, who both shared a Flemish background, can tentatively be inferred from the translator’s possible whereabouts during the first years after 1260/61. According to the available material, only one thing is certain: on 22 November 102 On my hypothesis concerning Baldwin’s involvement in the Pelagonia alliance, see ­Chapter 4, p. 82–85. 103 Akropolites, Historia, §83. On the siege of Galata, see also Chapter 3, note 19. 104 Teulet, Layettes du Trésor des Chartes 2: n° 2753, 395. 105 Golubovich, Biblioteca Bio-Bibliografica della Terra Santa e dell’Oriente Franciscano, 2:302–303. Stephen W. Reinert, “The Muslim Presence in Constantinople, 9th–15th Centuries: Some preliminary Observations,” in Hélène Ahrweiler and Angeliki E. Laiou, eds., Studies on the Internal Diaspora of the Byzantine Empire (Washington D.C., 1998), 143–144. Glaire D. Anderson, “Islamic Spaces and Diplomacy in Constantinople (Tenth to Thirteenth Centuries ce),” Medieval Encounters 15 (2009), 104–108. 106 On these contacts with the Latin emperors and the Venetian authorities in Constantinople: Van Tricht, The Latin Renovatio of Byzantium, 371–377; Michael E. Martin, “The Venetian-­ Seljuk Treaty of 1220,” English Historical Review 95 (1980), 321–330. See also Chapter 3, note 77.

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1267 he was at the papal court in Viterbo where he finished his translation of Themistios’ commentary on Aristotle’s De anima, and he would thereafter remain connected to the papal curia.107 There are strong indications that before that time he resided for a time in the kingdom of Sicily. This would seem to follow from the clear link existing between William and his fellow translator Barthelemy of Messina, who worked at the court of the king of Sicily Manfred of Hohenstaufen (1258–1266). They in part used the same manuscripts and their method of translation is so similar that is has been suggested that this was the result of reciprocal influence or of a master-apprentice relationship. While irrefutable evidence of direct contact between both figures is lacking, the available data make such a personal relationship nevertheless very probable.108 If so, William and Baldwin ii after 1261 would have found themselves at the court of the same ruler, king Manfred of Hohenstaufen, who in the following years would try to appease the papacy with promises of aid to restore Latin Constantinople.109 Interestingly enough William emerges at the papal court in Viterbo (November 1267) around the time that Baldwin was reconciled with the papacy, under whose auspices the Treaties of Viterbo (May 1267) to restore Latin Constantinople were concluded, which also involved the new king of ­Sicily, Charles of Anjou, and prince of Achaia, William ii of ­Villehardouin.110 Later William would become archbishop of Corinth (1278–1286), which could show his continued attachment to Latin Romania where he again would effectively reside for some time so it seems.111 This conjecture of a shared ­itinerary—Constantinople (in William’s case at the very least temporarily: it is from a geographical ánd intellectual perspective rather inconceivable that when he worked in both Thebes and Nicaea, he would not also have carried out research in the capital), Sicily and Viterbo—seems plausible and could 107 Vanhamel, “Biobibliographie de Guillaume de Moerbeke,” 310–315. Pattin, “Pour la biographie de Guillaume de Moerbeke,” 392–395. It has been proposed that William arrived at the papal court before 1267, but in the absence of any evidence substantiating such a claim this must remain speculative. 108 Gudrun Vuillemin-Diem, “La liste des oeuvres d’Hippocrate dans le Vindobonensis phil. gr. 100: un autographe de Guillaume de Moerbeke,” in Jozef Brams and Willy Vanhamel, eds., Guillaume de Moerbeke. Recueil d’études à l’occasion du 700e anniversaire de sa mort (1286) (Leuven, 1989), 161–162. 109 On Baldwin’s presence in Sicily after 1261 and his continuing support for Manfred’s cause until 1266 (which earned him the enmity of the papacy), see references in Chapter 4, note 33. 110 On these treaties: Longnon, L’empire latin de Constantinople, 228–230; Steven Runciman, The Sicilian Vespers. A History of the Mediterranean World in the later thirteenth century (Cambridge, 1958), 135–140. Geanakoplos, Emperor Michael Palaeologus and the West 1258–1282, 138–140. Chrissis, Crusading in Frankish Greece, 204–207. 111 Pattin, “Pour la biographie de Guillaume de Moerbeke,” 393–395.

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possibly be explained by assuming that William belonged to Baldwin’s social network. A cleric named Guilelmus is attested in the emperor’s service in 1244, when Innocent iv took him under his protection.112 It is possible, though unascertained, that this cleric might be identified with Moerbeke (supposedly born around 1215). In view of the earlier connections between the imperial court and the Dominicans, and of Baldwin’s interest in science (our astrological treatise being dedicated to him), the idea of a personal connection between William and Baldwin is not implausible. If so, William would have known the anonymous author of our astrological treatise, with whom he shared an interest in the occult sciences. William’s scholarly interests, as reflected in his translations, indeed spanned a wide range of disciplines: philosophy (for example his translations of Aristotle’s Politica, of Proclus’ Elementatio Theologica, and his commentaries on various Platonic dialogues), mathematics (his translations of several treatises by Hero of Alexandria and Archimedes), natural sciences such as biology and astronomy (his translations of Aristotle’s Meteorologica, De partibus animalium, De motu animalium, and De caelo), medicine (his study and translations of works by Hippocrates and Galenus), but also astrology and geomancy (an original treatise on geomancy and his translation of Ptolemy’s Tetrabiblos).113 An interest in Greek medicine in Latin Constantinople can be demonstrated by the Vienna Dioskorides codex (6th century), which contains a magnificently illuminated copy of Pedanius Dioskorides’ De materia medica. Leslie Brubaker has convincingly proposed that the additions to the manuscript in Latin in a 13th-century hand must date from the period 1204–1261. The manuscript did not leave Constantinople before the 15th century and was likely destined for imperial use.114 Our author himself possibly had an interest in medicine, as his reference to and knowledge of Hippocrates’ Aphorismi would seem to suggest.115 Excellent medical knowledge was available in the capital. A letter by the Nicaean cleric Nicholas Mesarites to the Theotokos Evergetis monastery from late 1207–early 1208 mentions his acquaintance Brachnos, a most esteemed doctor, as still living in Constantinople. In the 1220s, Anseau i of ­Cayeux was 112 Innocentius iv, Les registres, n° 814. 113 On William’s treatise on geomancy: Thérèse Charmasson, Recherches sur une technique divinatoire: la géomancie dans l’Occident médiéval, Hautes études médiévales et modernes 44 (Geneva, 1980), 157–167. 114 Leslie Brubaker, “The Vienna Dioskorides and Anicia Juliana,” in Antony Littlewood, Henry Maguire, and Joachim Wolschke-Buhlman, eds., Byzantine Garden Culture. Dumbarton Oaks Studies (Washington D.C., 2002), 204–206. 115 BnF, fr. 1353, f. 8va (=Appendix 3, Ch. 2, §2). See also Chapter 5.

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shot through the neck by an arrow, but was nevertheless cured.116 Such professional expertise may well have continued to be available in the former xenon of Saint Samson, which after 1204 became the headquarters of the Latin empire’s own military hospital order of the same name.117 Interest in the occult sciences was likewise not limited to William. There is of course our anonymous author’s astrological corpus and in a previous chapter we already discussed indications that dream interpretation and prophetic/ eschatological literature were also en vogue at the Latin imperial court (as they had been earlier at the Byzantine court), and in other segments of the metropolitan society as well. In addition chronicler Aubry of Trois-Fontaines, for instance, mentions how a bonus magister et sapiens, while visiting Constantinople in the late 1230s, extracted a prophecy from a “demon” he subdued concerning Baldwin ii’s future alliance with the Cumans against John iii Vatatzes and Ivan ii Asen. The Franciscan traveller and missionary William of Rubrouck visiting the capital and imperial court in 1253 familiarized himself with an Armenian prophecy concerning the future fate of Constantinople and the Near East (with a Latin-Armenian alliance in the context of the Mongol threat), not only suggesting an interest in this sort of knowledge, but at the same time attesting Latin-Armenian interaction and good mutual relations. The Armenian presence in Constantinople had been reinforced by Henry of Flanders/ Hainaut in 1205, when he resettled Armenian families who hailed from the Troad region.118 To be mentioned also are a number of Latin translations of 116 Brachnos: Nikolaos Mesarites, Reisebericht an die Monche des Evergetisklosters in Konstantinopel, in August Heisenberg, ed., “Neue Quellen zur Geschichte des lateinischen Kaisertums und der Kirchenunion 2/3,” Sitzungsberichte der Bayerischen Akademie der Wissenschaften. Philosophisch-philologische und historische Klasse (1923, 2. Abteilung), 43–44. Cayeux: Akropolites, Historia, §24. 117 On this order: Van Tricht, The Latin Renovatio of Byzantium, 343–347; Dionysios Stathakopoulos, “Discovering a Military Order of the Crusades: The Hospital of St. Samson of Constantinople,” Viator 37 (2006), 262–273. The latter author supposes that no doctors were attached to the hospital in the Latin period, but a 1222 papal letter explicitly mentions that the brethren administred the necessaria to the poor and to the sick (Honorius iii, Bullarium Hellenicum, n° 151). See, for example, in general on medieval hospitals in Byzantium and Western Europe: Timothy S. Miller, The Birth of the Hospital in the Byzantine Empire, 2nd ed. (Baltimore, 1997); Barbara S. Bowers, ed., The Medieval Hospital and Medical Practice, avista Studies in the History of Medieval Technology, Science and Art 3 (Aldershot, 2007). Peregrine Horden, Hospitals and Healing from Antiquity to the Later Middle Ages, Variorum Collected Studies (Aldershot, 2008). Specifically on the Byzantine Saint Samson xenon: Timothy S. Miller, “The Sampson Hospital of Constantinople,” Byzantinische Forschungen 15 (1990), 101–135. 118 In Byzantium before 1204, see for example: Maria Mavroudi, “Occult Science and Society in Byzantium. Considerations for Future Research,” in: Paul Magdalino and idem (eds.),

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Byzantine prophetical/eschatological texts, allegedly taken from books termed vasilografo (or “imperial scripture,” after the Greek basilographeion), that were produced sometime during the 13th century. Some of these clearly refer to the events of 1203/1204. It seems difficult not to see some kind of link with Latin-Byzantine Constantinople. The interest of both chronicler and imperial cleric Henry of Valenciennes and Franciscan provincial of Romania Benedict of Arezzo in prophetical/eschatological material and in predictive phenomena should be noted in this context.119 While the anonymous authors of our astrological corpus and the Contra Graecos treatise, and presumably William of Moerbeke, were what may be called resident scholars, Constantinople also attracted visiting Latin intellectuals from the West. Several persons belonging to the circle around Robert Grosseteste (†1253), bishop of Lincoln, author of a number of original scientific treatises and translator of various Greek philosophical and religious works into Latin, visited Latin Romania. John of Basingstoke, archdeacon of Leicester, did so sometime before 1235. According to a report found in Matthew of Paris’ Chronica Majora, based on magister John’s personal account, he studied in Athens with a young woman named Constantina, the daughter of the local archbishop. She is portrayed as a most eminent scholar who could explain any difficult point of the trivium and quadrivium, and who could contradict the knowledge he had gained during his earlier studies in Paris. She could also predict disease, thunder, eclipses, and earthquakes. In Athens he also gained knowledge ab peritis Graecorum doctoribus which until then had been unavailable for Latins. The account also states that Athens was the city were the Graecorum sapientes came to study.120 Charming as this story may be, some details do not seem credible. The description of Athens as the Greek center of learning in the opening decades of the 13th century sounds anachronistic. In metropolitan Michael Choniates, who had been sent from Constantinople, Athens did possess an intellectual heavyweight at the turn of the 13th century, but after 1204 he retreated to the The Occult Sciences in Byzantium (Paris, 2006), 74–79; Magdalino, “Occult Science and Imperial Power,” 159–162; Albericus Trium Fontium, Chronica, 949; Guillelmus de Rubruquis, Itinerarium, ed. Anastasius Van den Wyngaert, Sinica Franciscana 1 (Florence, 1929), §38, 322; Benjamin Hendrickx, “Les Arméniens d’Asie Mineure et de Thrace au début de l’empire latin de Constantinople,” Revue des études arméniennes 22 (1990/91), 217–223. 119 Wolfram Brandes, “Kaiserprophetien und Hochverrat. Apokalyptische Schriften und Kaiservaticinien als Medium antikaiserlicher Propaganda,” in idem and F. Schmieder, eds., Endzeiten: Eschatologie in den monotheistischen Weltreligionen (Berlin, 2008), 157–177. 120 Matthaeus Parisiensis, Chronica Majora, 5:284–287 (“from experienced Greek teachers”; “Greek wise men”).

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island of Kea, later to return briefly to Athens (1216), and until his death in 1222 resided in the Saint John Prodromos monastery in Bodonitza, a town under Latin rule. During this time he continued to correspond with a ­number of educated Athenians, but these letters do not picture Athens as an exceptional center of learning, either before or after 1204, rather the contrary, although Choniates from exile did try to make sure that good education remained available.121 Martin Hellman’s evaluation of Athens’ portrayal by Paris and Basingstoke, in my opinion, is accurate: “Diese könnte dann eher unter die fantasievollen Vorstellungen über Athen gerechnet werden, die zu dieser Zeit in England herrschten.”122 The character Constantina also seems problematic, leading authors to express their doubts concerning her historicity.123 The name Konstantina was not common for a Byzantine girl or woman at this time, although to Western ears it probably sounded very Greek or Byzantine, since it refers to both Emperor Constantine the Great and Constantinople. Although some Byzantine ladies connected to the highest court elite were highly educated (for example chronicler/historian Anna Komnena, daughter of Alexios i), women teaching the trivium or quadrivium to men are not attested in Byzantium at this time (or in the West for that matter).124 Moreover, metropolitan Choniates, whose life is quite extensively documented, is not known to have had any children. His Latin successor as archbishop of Athens Berardus (Constantina is not explicitly identified as a Greek woman, although Paris does seem to imply as much), as a Western cleric bound to stricter rules of celibacy, is even less likely to have fathered a daughter (and to have brought her with him to Romania).125 Given these elements Maria Mavroudi’s plea to 121 Michael Choniates, Epistulae, ed. Foteini Kolovou, Corpus Fontium Historiae Byzantinae. Series Berolinensis 41 (Berlin, 2001), n° 94–95, n° 102, n° 107, n° 110, n° 117, n° 124, n° 134– 137, n° 161, n° 165. Georg Stadtmüller, Michael Choniates, Metropolit von Athen, Orientalia Christiana Analecta 33 (Rome, 1934), 154–212 (especially 19–193). Kenneth M. Setton, “Athens in the later XIIth century,” Speculum 19 (1944), 179–207. Shawcross, “The Lost Generation,” 82. 122 M. Hellman, “Review of: David A. King: The Ciphers of the Monks. A Forgotten Number-notation of the Middle Ages,” Archiv für Stenographie–Textverarbeitun–Bürotechnik (2002), 88–90. 123 David A. King, The Ciphers of the Monks. A Forgotten Number-notation of the Middle Ages (Stuttgart, 2001), 50. 124 See Maria Mavroudi, “Learned Women of Byzantium and the Surviving Record,” in Denis Sullivan, Elizabeth Fisher, and Stratis Papaioannou, eds., Byzantine Religious Culture. Studies in Honor of Alice-Mary Talbot, The Medieval Mediterranean 92 (Leiden, 2012), 55–84. 125 On Michael Choniates, see the references in Chapter 6, note 120. On archbishop Berardus, see Innocentius iii, Regesta, 215: col. 1130 (x, 35); col. 1432 (xi, 112); col. 1433 (xi, 113); col. 1468 (xi, 154); col. 1492 (xi, 179); col. 1549 (xi, 238); col. 1550 (xi, 244); col. 1551 (xi, 245 & 246); col. 1559 (xi, 256); 216: col. 201 (xii, 6); col. 299 (xiii, 103); col. 323 (xiii, 136 & 137);

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accept Paris’ account is unconvincing. The author herself shows that after the Alexandrinian Hypatia (†415) no female philosopher/lecturer is attested in the Byzantine sources until the fall of the empire in 1453. Her argument that Paris never fabricated misinformation is problematic, since with Basingstoke as the basis of the report the chronicler may simply have accepted his account in good faith.126 More likely Constantina should be regarded as a figment of Basingstoke’s imagination, with a possible (Orientalizing) intention to picture the Byzantine East as an exotic place of wonder in order to capture the interest of his listeners.127 The fact that Matthew of Paris devoted a chapter to Basingstoke’s life, and in essence to his voyage, proves that, at least, he captured the chronicler’s interest. In view of these reservations concerning the account of Basingstoke’s stay in Athens, while he probably did visit the city (see the much debated similarity between the ciphers that he claimed to have brought home to England and those on a tablet from the 4th century bc found on the Acropolis), he likely visited other places in Latin Romania, among them Constantinople, the empire’s real cultural/intellectual center where manuscripts were to be found. Basingstoke must have known this, or realized it after arriving in the region. The capital presumably attracted a number of Western scholars looking for Greek knowledge and manuscripts. Bishop Grosseteste, according to Matthew of Paris, after Basingstoke informed him of the existence of the “Testament of the twelve patriarchs,” sent a messenger in Graeciam to retrieve a copy of the work, which he then translated in Latin. The English Franciscan scholar Roger Bacon (†1292) in his Opus tertium states that Grosseteste had Greek grammar books brought over de Graecia and a number of Greeks as well, who already must have been cooperating with Latins. It is hard to imagine that the bishop’s envoys would not have visited Constantinople.128 The French chronicler col. 471 (xiv, 112); col. 576 (xv, 44); col. 612–613 (xv, 100–101); Honorius iii et Gregorius ix, Acta, n° 48–49, n° 93. 126 Mavroudi, “Learned Women of Byzantium and the Surviving Record,” 65–67. 127 Basingstoke’s inspiration may well have been the just mentioned Hypatia, about whose life he could have read in the Historia Ecclesiastica Tripartita by Cassiodorus († shortly after 580), which was well known in the medieval West, England included (Magnus Aurelius Cassiodorus, Historia Ecclesiastica Tripartita, ed. Jean-Paul Migne, Patrologia Latina 69 (Paris, 1865), col. 1194–1195). See also, Max L. Laistner, “The Value and Influence of Cassiodorus’ Ecclesiastical History,” Harvard Theological Review 41 (1948), 51–67; Désirée Scholten, The History of a Historia. Manuscript Transmission of the Historia Ecclesiastica Tripartita by Epiphianus-Cassiodorus, MA Thesis (Utrecht University, 2010). 128 Rogerus Bacon, Opus Tertium, in John S. Brewer, ed., Opera quaedam hactenus inedita, Rerum Britannicarum medii aevi scriptores 1 (London, 1859), 91. See also, Francis S. ­Stevenson, Robert Grosseteste, Bishop of Lincoln. A Contribution to the Religious, Political and Intellectual History of the Thirteenth Century (London, 1899), 54, 224–226; Altaner, “Die Kenntnis des Griechischen in den Missionsorden während des 13. und 14. ­Jahrhunderts,”

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­ illiam le Breton for the year 1209 records that recently (de novo—no doubt W after the conquest of 1204 which he mentions) several works (libelli) by Aristotle had been brought to Paris from Constantinople.129 Such imports must have stimulated an interest in the Queen of Cities as a repository of ancient Greek knowledge. Chronicler Aubry of Trois-Fontaines similarly mentions a bonus magister et sapiens who visited Constantinople in the late 1230s.130 Scholarly interest in philosophy and the sciences in Constantinople was probably not limited to Latins. At the imperial court and in the Dominican convent learned Byzantines were to be found as well, including phylax John and Simon the Constantinopolitan. For some 13th-century manuscripts containing philosophical and scientific texts, Latin-Byzantine Constantinople should be considered as a possible place of composition. One example might be Laur. 10.26—containing Michael Psellos’ (circa 1017/18–1078) commentary on Aristotle’s De interpretatione, Ammonios’ (circa 435/450–after 517) commentaries on John Philoponos’ (circa 490–570), and Porphyrios’ (circa 233–301/305) commentaries on Aristotle’s Categoriae—which has been dated to the years just before or after 1261. For an anonymous treatise on the astrolabe, preserved in a manuscript dated to the late 13th century, a possible Latin-Byzantine Constantinopolitan provenance should be considered because of the strong interest in astronomy at the Latin imperial court (not attested in Nicaea) and in view of the fact that the treatise is probably a Greek translation of an Arabo-Latin treatise.131 It seems natural to assume that an intellectual exchange would have taken place between Latins and Byzantines who shared both scholarly interests and their work environment. As regards the author of our astrological corpus, 448–449; James McEnvoy, Robert Grosseteste, Great Medieval Thinkers (Oxford, 2000), 113–117. 129 Guillaume le Breton, Gesta Philippi Augusti, ed. Henri-François Delaborde, Oeuvres de Rigord et Guillaume le Breton, vol. 1: Chroniques de Rigord et de Guillaume le Breton (Paris, 1882), §155, 233. 130 Albericus Trium Fontium, Chronica, 949. 131 On the Psellos manuscript: Inmaculada Perez Martin, “The Transmission of Some Writings by Psellos in Thirteenth-century Constantinople,” in Antonio Rigo, ed., Theologica Minora: The Minor Genres of Byzantine Theological Literature, Byzantios. Studies in Byzantine History and Civilization 8 (Turnhout, 2013), 163–164. On the treatise on the astrolabe: Anne Tihon, “Traités byzantins sur l’astrolabe,” Physis. Rivista internazionale di storia della scienza 32 (1995) 325, 335–336; Elizabeth Fisher, “Arabs, Latins and Persians Bearing Gifts: Greek Translations of Astronomical Texts, ca. 1300,” Byzantine and Modern Greek Studies 36 (2012), 166–167. For an overview of dated manuscripts for the period 1204–1261, see Prato, “La produzione libraria in area greco-orientale,” 410–421. None of them mention Constantinople as place of production, but this is true for Nicaea as well. The majority of the manuscripts mention no place of production at all. See also Chapter 7.

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­ yzantine colleagues may have acquainted him with certain works and disB cussed them with him. In this manner perhaps the Introductoire needs to be seen as an “astrological bridge” between 12th- and late 13th/early 14th-century Byzantium. It is well-known that up until 1204 there was a lively interest in astrology at the court of the Angeloi, Komnenoi, and previous imperial dynasties (shared by some patriarchs and high ranking clerics). This interest, however, is completely absent from the courts of the Nicaean and Thessalonican emperors. Paul Magdalino has observed with regard to astrology in the first three quarters of the 13th century that the astrologers, remarkably, were silent and that they are almost completely absent from the works of other Byzantine authors. Under John iii Vatatzes, higher education was organized in Nicaea, but astronomy was no longer part of the curriculum. The closely related disciplines astronomy and astrology possibly fell from grace due to the previous emperors flirting with astrology, believed by some to be one of the causes of the 1204 debacle. For example Niketas Choniates, who spent his final years in Nicaea, is very critical of astrology in his chronicle.132 Emperor Theodore ii Laskaris (1254–1258) in one of his letters, while relating a scholarly debate that took place at his court between Latin and Greek intellectuals (during a diplomatic mission of marquis Berthold of Hohenburg, envoy of rex Romanorum and king of Sicily Conrad iv of Hohanstaufen), stated that the Latins were victorious only in the discipline of astrology, which he qualifies as defective.133 Only from the late 13th century on (in any case after 1261) can a revival of astrology be witnessed in Paleologan Constantinople, with intellectuals such as George Pachymeres, Theodore Metochites, and George Chioniades displaying an interest.134 Magdalino has suggested with regard to Nicaean scholar Nikephoros Blemmydes’ teacher Prodromos, that he possibly chose to remain in Latin territory (the Troad region) because Westerners may have better appreciated his science. Prodromos was well-versed in both astronomy and astrology and passed on his knowledge to Blemmydes, as his manual on physics attests. Blemmydes himself, presumably because of the critical reception, chose not to include astronomy and astrology in the higher education program he introduced in ­Nicaea.135 After 1204 other Byzantine scholars with an interest in astrology (and 132 See, for example, Niketas Choniates, Historia, 1:154, 221; 2:455–456, 519–520, 530, 558. 133 Theodore Doukas Laskaris, Epistulae ccxvii, ed. Nicola Festa (Florence, 1898), n° cxxv, 174–176. In another letter Theodore ii criticizes all occult sciences (ibid., n° cxxxi, 183–184). 134 Magdalino, L’orthodoxie des astrologues, 109–137. Tihon, “Astrological Promenade in Byzantium,” 165–181. 135 Magdalino, L’orthodoxie des astrologues, 135–137. Nikephoros Blemmydes, Epitome Physica, ed. Jean-Paul Migne, Patrologia Graeca 142 (Paris, 1863), 1237–1248. On Prodromos: see Chapter 1, note 33.

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other occult sciences) likewise may have opted for staying in Latin controlled territories, Constantinople or elsewhere. George Chioniades († circa 1320) was born in Constantinople (as physician and astronomer George Chrysokokkes testifies in the preface to his Procheiros syntaxis of circa 1346–1347) probably around 1240–1250, as Westerlink hypothesized, since he describes himself as an old man in a letter written circa 1310–1314. Chioniades studied all the sciences, especially medicine, mathematics, and astronomy/astrology, for which he had a special interest. If he was born in the early 1240s there is a good chance that he began his higher education in Latin Constantinople, where astronomy/ astrology was actively studied. After becoming a monk, he travelled to Trebizond and in the early 1290s moved to Tabriz where he continued his study of medicine and astronomy/astrology. He later translated a number of Persian astronomical/astrological works into Greek.136 A 1252 astronomical treatise on Indian/Arabic mathematics, including a section concerning the zodiac (used in the casting of horoscopes), may tentatively be ascribed to a member of our hypothetical group of Constantinopolitan Byzantine scholars with an interest in astronomy/astrology. None of the ten known manuscripts contains the name of its author, but its editor André Allard considered it to be “un témoin capital de l’influence occidentale à Byzance.” In the West, Indian/Arabic mathematics had been introduced from the 12th century and during the 13th century it became widely diffused, for example through the influential Liber abaci written in 1202 by Leonardo Fibonacci of Pisa, on which the 1252 Greek treatise was probably partially based. It seems difficult not to see Latin Constantinople as a plausible milieu of composition for this treatise, particularly in view of the fact that after 1261 Indian/Arabic mathematics never really caught on in Byzantium. The Constantinopolitan cleric and scholar Maximos Planudes (circa 1255–1305/10)—a well-known Latinophile who translated several authors into Greek (Cicero, Boethius, Macrobius, Augustine, and others)—used the treatise as a source for his own work on Indian/Arabic mathematics, but after that little interest in them was shown by Byzantine intellectuals.137

136 L.G. Westerlink, ed., “La profession de foi de Grégoire Chionidès,” Revue des études byzantines 38 (1980), 233–245. Fisher, “Arabs, Latins and Persians Bearing Gifts: Greek Translations of Astronomical Texts, ca. 1300,” 168–169. See also my discussion of the educational situation in Constantinople after 1204 in Chapter 1. 137 André Allard, “Le premier traité byzantin de calcul indien: classement des manuscrits et édition critique du texte, ” Revue d’histoire des textes 7 (1977), 57–64. On the 1252 treatise, see also Magdalino, L’orthodoxie des astrologues, 148–149; Byden, “Strangle Them With These Meshes of Syllogisms,” 133 n. 2.

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There may have been a counterpart in Latin Constantinople to William of Moerbeke’s translations of Greek science. Two Greek codices (Vat. gr. 12 and Vat. gr. 1144) contain a partial translation of books iv and v on moral proverbs from the Speculum doctrinale by the Dominican friar Vincent of Beauvais, the third part of his compilatory magnum opus the Speculum maius, dedicated to the French king Louis ix. Inmaculada Perez Martin has argued that the translation was probably made by a Byzantine scholar who knew Latin, rather than by a Latin scholar who knew Greek. The author favors an identification of the translator with one of the Latinophile Byzantine intellectuals at the court of Andronikos ii, though she recognizes that no stylistic grounds permit an identification with either the well-known Maximos Planudes or Manuel ­Holobolos. She proposes as translator the monk Sophonias, who under Andronikos ii converted to the Latin faith and who had a connection with the 1299 (re)established Dominican convent in Pera. The author does acknowledge the possibility that the translation was made in the Constantinopolitan Dominican convent before 1261. But with the Speculum maius’ final date of composition (circa 1256–1259), she suggests this hypothesis less likely. However, by 1250 the Speculum doctrinale was already in circulation as a separate entity and a part in existence by 1245 (incorporated in an early version of the Speculum naturale). Given the frequent contacts between Constantinople and the West, France and the French royal court in particular, the local Dominican convent, a dynamic intellectual community, may well have obtained a copy before 1261. Thus, a Byzantine ­Dominican friar, such as Simon the Constantinopolitan, should be considered as a possible translator.138 Another Greek translation of a Latin philosophical work should perhaps also be associated with Latin Constantinople. The text in question—the Diairesis of dialectical topoi—is thought to be a translation of an anonymous contemporary Latin work on logic. The oldest manuscript has been dated to the late 13th century. Börje Byden has argued that this text must have been translated before Andronikos ii’s abrogation in 1283 of the 1274 ecclesiastical union with Rome. Byden hypothesizes that the translator is to be found in the 138 Inmaculada Perez Martin, “El libro de Actor. Una traducción bizantina del Speculum doctrinale de Beauvais (Vat. Gr. 12 y 1144),” Revue des études byzantines 55 (1997), 91–95, 100–101. See also W.J. Aerts, “Proverbial passages taken from Vincent of Beauvais’ ‘Speculum Doctrinale’ translated into Medieval Greek: the methods of translation used by the anonymous Greek author,” in idem, E.R. Smits, and J.B. Voorbij, eds., Vincent of Beauvais and Alexander the Great. Studies on the “Speculum Maius” and its translations into medieval vernaculars, Mediaevalia Groningana 7 (Groningen 1986), 141–176. Monique Paulmier-Foucart and Serge Lusignan, “Vincent de Beauvais et l’histoire du Speculum Maius,” Journal des Savants 1 (1990), 104–105.

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milieu around Manuel Holobolos and the Patriarchal School around 1265–1273. George Pachymeres, who had been accepted as translator by editor Dimitrios Nikitas (on the basis of an attribution in a 16th-century manuscript), is considered as a possible candidate by Byden, though Sten Ebbesen has formulated grave doubts. In the absence of hard arguments, the identity of the translator remains an open question. It is interesting that, although there are no obvious contraindications, a date before 1261 is not even considered by any of these authors. They implicitly seem to assume that scholarly activity was virtually absent from Latin Constantinople.139 This, however, was not the case: Latins and Byzantines (among others our author, friars at the Dominican convent, and phylax John) engaged in intellectual activity and exchange. Latin Constantinople, with its mixed Latin-Byzantine subcommunities (the imperial court, the Dominican and Franciscan convents), would appear to have provided a stimulating environment for the Greek translation of a contemporary Latin work on logic. Other possible proof of Byzantine scientific activity concerns the anonymous so-called Zonarae lexicon (or Lexicon Tittmannianum), formerly incorrecly attributed to the 12th-century chronicler and theologian John Zonaras. This lexicon has been dated convincingly by Klaus Alpers to the period between 1204 (see a reference to the post-1204 condition of the altar of Saint Sophia) and 1253 (the date of the earliest manuscript, Vat. gr. 10). Alpers has, furthermore, identified Constantinople as its place of origin, given the wide-ranging sources that only would have been available in the capital. On this basis, for the two earliest known copies of the lexicon—Vat. gr. 10 from 1253 and the Scor. Ψ.III.16 from 1256—a Constantinopolitan origin could then be considered, in spite of Prato’s suggestion of a provincial origin. A possible sphragis might indicate that the lexicon’s author was named Nikephoros. Alpers tentatively suggested an identification with the Nicaean scholar Nikephoros Blemmydes (1197–1272), but this can not be reconciled with the author’s affirmation that the work could only have been written in Constantinople. A Nikephoros/Nikephoritzes was in Baldwin ii of Courtenay’s service as imperial undersecretary (hupogrammateus). Such a profile would make him a plausible candidate as to 139 Börje Byden, “‘Strangle Them with These Meshes of Syllogisms!’: Latin Philosophy in Greek Translations of the Thirteenth Century,” in Jan O. Rosenqvist, ed., Interaction and Isolation in Late Byzantine Culture (Stockholm and New York, 2004), 135–136, 140–142, 152– 157. Sten Ebbesen, “Pachymeres and the Topics,” Cahiers de l’institut du moyen-âge grec et latin 66 (1996), 169–185. Idem, “Greek and Latin Medieval Logic,” Cahiers de l’institut du moyen-âge grec et latin 66 (1996), 67–95. Dimitrios Nikitas, ed., Boethius. De topicis differentiis und die byzantinische Rezeption dieses Werkes, Corpus Philosophorum Medii Aevi. Philosophi Byzantini 5 (Athens, 1990).

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the lexicon’s authorship. The lexicon became the most widely distributed of Byzantine lexica, its sources including the Suda, the Etymologicum genuinum, various scholia collections (Homer, Gregory of Nazianze), Michael Psellos, John Zonaras, Anastasios Sinaites, Stephen of Byzantium, Maximos the Confessor, and John of Damascus. Assuming the post-1204 date to be correct, this comprehensive lexicon would bear testimony to continued scientific work and production under Latin rule.140

140 On the Zonarae Lexicon, see Herbert Hunger, Die hochsprachliche profane Literatur der Byzantiner, Handbuch der klassischen Altertumswissenschaft 9 (Munich, 1978), 2:42–43. Klaus Alpers, “Zonarae Lexicon,” in Hubert Cancik and Helmuth Schneider, eds., Brill’s New Pauly. Antiquity volumes (First published online 2006—http://dx.doi.org/10.1163/15749347_bnp_e12217830) consulted online on 26 April 2018. Iordanes Gregoriades does not accept Alpers’ 1204 terminus post quem. The author however hardly engages Alpers’ argumentation, ignoring crucial elements such as the proposed link between the lexicon and the Suda with regard to the entry mentioning the altar of Saint Sophia. His own attempt to (re)attribute the lexicon to John Zonaras lacks substance, since the (limited) influence of Zonaras’ works (especially on canon law) on the lexicon has long been recognized (­Iordanes Gregoriades, “Tracing the hand of Zonaras in the Lexicon Tittmannianum,” Hellenika 46 (1996), 41–42). On Blemmydes, see Chapter 1, note 33. On Nikephoros/­ Nikephoritzes, see Chapter 2, note 33. On the 1253 and 1256 manuscripts containing the earliest copies of the lexicon, see Prato, “La produzione libraria in area greco-orientale,” 426–427.

Chapter 7

The Arts and Artistic Production in Latin-Byzantine Constantinople In current historiography, Latin Constantinople is generally not associated with artistic accomplishments. On the contrary, most authors have stressed the destructions that were caused by the fires that struck the city during the successive sieges of 1203–1204, with the accompanying despoliation of churches and demolition of works of art. Furthermore, they have assumed a general neglect of the city’s monumental secular and ecclesiastical architecture in the period until 1261, supposedly caused by a lack of interest (or “cultural level” in the words of Charalambos Bouras) by the Latin elite as well as a lack of financial r­ esources.1 To be sure, the 1203–1204 conquest did involve largescale destruction and looting. Thomas Madden in a detailed study estimated that approximately one sixth of the city burnt down, although—as I argued ­elsewhere—this statement needs to be interpreted in the sense that one sixth of the city to some degree suffered from the flames.2 1 See, for example, Thomas F. Madden, “The Fires of the Fourth Crusade in ­Constantinople, 1203–1204: A Damage Assessment,” Byzantinische Zeitschrift 84/85 (1991–1992), 72–93; S­ uzanne Dufrenne, “Architecture et décor monumental d’art byzantin à l’époque de l’empire latin de Constantinople (1204–1261),” Byzantinische Forschungen 4 (1972), 64–75; Vassilios Kidonopoulos, Bauten in Konstantinopel 1204–1328. Verfall und Zerstörung, Restaurierung, Umbau und Neubau von Profan- und Sakralbauten, Mainzer Veröffentlichungen zur Byzantinistik 1 (Wiesbaden, 1994), 227–230; idem, “The urban Physiognomy of Constantinople from the Latin Conquest through the Palaiologan Era,” in Sarah T. Brooks, ed., Byzantium, Faith, and Power (1261–1557). Perspectives on Late Byzantine Art and Culture (New York 2006), 98–117; Paul Magdalino, “Medieval Constantinople: Built Environment and Urban Development,” in Angeliki .E. Laiou, ed., The Economic History of Byzantium From the Seventh through the Fifteenth Century, Dumbarton Oaks Research Library and Collection 39 (Washington D.C., 2002), 1:535–536; Charalambos Bouras, “The Impact of Frankish Architecture on Thirteenth Century Byzantine Architecture,” in Angeliki Laiou and R.P. Mottahedeh, eds., The Crusades from the Perspective of the Byzantine and the Muslim World (Washington, 2001), 247–248; idem, “Architecture in Constantinople in the Thirteenth Century,” in Panayotis L. Vocotopoulos, ed., Byzantine Art in the Aftermath of the Fourth Crusade. The Fourth Crusade and Its Consequences. International Congress, March 9–12, 2004 (Athens, 2007), 105–112. For a more fruitful comparative approach with regard to the cultural/intellectual level of Latins and Byzantines: Sita Steckel, “Networks of Learning in Byzantine East and Latin West: Methodological Considerations and Starting Points for Further Work,” in idem, Niels Gaul, and Michael Grünbart, eds., Networks of Learning. Perspectives on Scholars in Byzantine East and Latin West, c. 1000–1200 (Berlin, 2015), 185–234. 2 Madden, “The Fires of the Fourth Crusade in Constantinople,” 88–89. See my remarks in Van Tricht, The Latin Renovatio of Byzantium, 24. © koninklijke brill nv, leiden, ���9 | doi:10.1163/9789004383180_009

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A vivid eyewitness account of the plundering that went on in the streets, palaces, and ecclesiastical institutions for three days is provided by chronicler and government official Niketas Choniates. In his De signis he also composed an often quoted list of bronze statues that were intentionally destroyed by the crusaders, to be melted down to produce coin or through ideological considerations. It should be noted that such destructions were not a Latin prerogative. Titos Papamastorakis has rightly observed that the Byzantine populace in 1203–1204 played a part as well. In 1081, during Alexios i Komnenos’ military coup, his troops and the metropolitan population had also engaged in largescale despoliation and violence during several days, including churches.3 With regard to the Nicaean (re)capture of the city in 1261, the major Byzantine chroniclers George Akropolites, George Pachymeres, and Nikephoros Gregoras have all commented on the state of Constantinople at that time. These reports, along with an analysis of Michael viii’s building and restoration activities, with the inclusion of a few other sources, led Alice-Mary Talbot and others to conclude, in line with anti-unionist patriarch Gregory ii of ­Cyprus (1283–1289) I might add, that the Byzantine capital by 1261 had virtually become a desolate place filled with ruins.4 But the matter is not that straightforward, as I hope to show by a renewed analysis of the just mentioned reports. The earliest author, Akropolites, who had risen to the post of megas logothetes by the time of Michael viii’s rule, and who visited Constantinople s­ hortly after 1261, in fact includes in his account of the Nicaean conquest and the emperor’s entry into the city not a single remark concerning desolation, destruction, or depopulation. In the opening chapters of his work, in his description of the 1204 conquest, he only and succinctly states that Constantinople at that time befell the misfortunes of a fallen city (despoliation, destruction of homes, killings and personal violence), without attempting to present these as extraordinary in scale or in nature. Akropolites does mention that in 1261 kaisar Alexios Strategopoulos set fire to the Venetian quarters by the seaside and then to the campi of the other Latin nations. The sight of the city in flames discouraged the Latin fleet and army, which had hastily returned from Daphnousia, from defending the capital. Talbot in her article on Michael viii’s ­restoration 3 Titos Papamastorakis, “Interpreting the De Signis of Niketas Choniates,” in Alicia Simpson and S. Efthymiades, eds., Niketas Choniates. A Historian and a Writer (Geneva, 2009), 209–222. Ferdinand Chalandon, Essai sur le règne d’Alexis Ier Comnène (1081–1118), Mémoires et Documents publiés par la Société de l’Ecole des Chartes 6 (Paris, 1900), 49–53 (with an account of the 1081 events based on the chronicles by Anna Komnena and John Zonaras). 4 Alice-Mary Talbot, “The restoration of Constantinople under Michael viii,” Dumbarton Oaks Papers 47 (1993), 243–262. For Bouras, see reference in note 1.

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or Bouras in his contribution on 13th-century Constantinople do not mention this 1261 fire.5 The scholar and high-ranking imperial official Pachymeres (born around 1242 and present in Constantinople shortly after 1261) confirms that the Latin residential and commercial quarters were set ablaze out of tactical considerations. The chronicler with regard to the housing of the Nicaean aristocracy observes that a good number of the pre-1204 habitations, not only ordinary ones, still existed. After 1204 a fair share of private palaces and residences were taken over by Latin barons, as Robert of Clari informs us, and during the first decades these noblemen must have possessed from their newly acquired fiefs the necessary means to maintain them properly. Pachymeres concludes that nothing would have changed if the continuous wars had not forced the Latins to, out of necessity, “touch” certain buildings, churches included.6 This observation finds confirmation in the by modern authors often repeated statement by Venetian crusade propagandist and chronicler Marino Sanudo Torsello that Emperor Baldwin ii was obliged to sell the lead of the roofs of a number of palaces, which presumably relates to the final years of Latin rule when—after the 1259 battle of Pelagonia—the emperor’s territories had been reduced to Constantinople and its immediate surroundings.7 Gregoras (circa 1295–1360), scholar and chartophylax under Andronikos ii, the chronicler most influential to current historiography (Talbot and others), recounts that this confinement, after Michael viii’s failed siege of Galata in late 1259–early 1260, caused the Latins to obtain firewood from existing structures (even famous ones). Extreme circumstances obviously required extreme measures, which, however, had little to do with policy or artistic/cultural interests. Gregoras goes on to say that in 1261 Strategopoulos set fire to the city in four different places, and that by morning Baldwin ii saw that the flames surrounded the entire city and directly threatened the Blacherna palace, from which he fled. In his treatment of Michael viii’s entry into the city, the chronicler mentions that the emperor chose the Great Palace as his residence because the Blacherna palace was filled with dust and ashes. This must have resulted from Strategopoulos’ fires, which would then seem to relativize a statement by Pachymeres that the Blacherna palace by 1261 had been covered with Latin smoke and soot. Gregoras concludes that the city was a field of destruction 5 Georgios Akropolites, Historia, §4, §85, §88–89. 6 Georgios Pachymeres, Relations Historiques, lib. 2, §27, §30. Robert de Clari, La conquête de Constantinople, §80. 7 Robert L. Wolff, “Hopf’s so-called ‘Fragmentum’ of Marino Sanudo Torsello,” Jewish Social Studies 5 (1953), 150–158.

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filled with ruins and rubble, and lists the reasons he sees for this: the 1203–1204 fires, general neglect and devastations by the Latins in the period 1204–1261, and the 1261 fires. The earthquakes of 1231 and 1237 go unmentioned.8 Gregoras, compared with both Akropolites and Pachymeres, paints, with reproach for the Latin rulers, the most damaging picture of the state of Constantinople at the time of the Nicaean conquest. He was, however, not a contemporary, having not actually witnessed the state of Constantinople in 1261. By the mid-14th century the city had experienced a series of post-1261 damaging events (earthquakes in 1296, 1303, and 1323; fires in 1291, 1305, and 1320).9 His evaluation (and those of modern authors based on it) of the impact on the city of 58 years of Latin rule should in my view then rather be seen as a conscious exaggeration which was intended to function, quite successfully, as anti-Latin propaganda. The same could be said about the statement by the anti-unionist patriarch Gregory ii. David Jacoby has attempted to remediate the current view on the basis of a detailed study of a number of inter alia Venetian notarial documents.10 ­Jacoby has convincingly argued that political, economic, and demographic factors generally enabled the maintenance of public, institutional, and private buildings in the Venetian quarter (which comprised three-eighths of the urban space), and stimulated the construction of additional structures. A new fondaco was built by the Venetian podestà, reflecting favourable economic and commercial circumstances, and city walls were repaired.11 Jacoby’s overview also lists a number of ecclesiastical structures where maintenance, restoration, and renovation were carried out (although in the case of archeological finds secure dates are often problematic), or which clearly possessed the means to do so. 8 9

10

11

Nikephoros Gregoras, Bizantina Historia, 1: lib. 4, cap. 1–2. Glanville Downey, “Earthquakes at Constantinople and vicinity, a.d. 342–1454,” Speculum 30 (1955), 596–600. Alice-Mary Talbot, “Building Activity in Constantinople Under Andronikos ii: The Role of Women Patrons in the Construction and Restoration of Monasteries,” in Nevra Necipoglu, ed., Byzantine Constantinople: Monuments, Topography and Everyday Life, The Medieval Mediterranean 33 (Leiden, 2001), 329. Jacoby, “The Urban Evolution of Latin Constantinople,” 277–297. Jacoby’s conclusions were accepted by Ekaterini Mitsiou, who pleads to use the Byzantine narrative sources and the generalizations therein with caution (Ekaterini Mitsiou, “Die Netzwerke einer kulturellen Begegnung: byzantinische und lateinische Klöster in Konstantinopel im 13. und 14. Jahrhundert,” in Klaus Oschema, Ludger Lieb, and Johannes Heil, eds., Abrahams Erbe: Konkurrenz, Konflikt und Koexistenz der Religionen im europäischen Mittelalter (­Berlin, 2015), 359–374). Bouras does not mention Jacoby’s crucial study in his contribution on 13th-century Constantinopolitan architecture (see reference in note 1). On the growth of the urban economy in the years 1204–1261: Jacoby, “Venetian Settlers in Latin Constantinople (1204–1261): Rich or Poor?,” 181–204.

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This list includes, among others, the patriarchal Saint Sophia church (addition of flying buttresses and probably a bell tower as Vasileios Marinis suggests), the Venetian Pantokrator complex (replacement of stained glass windows), the imperial Theotokos ton Blachernon church (near the palace of the same name), the Holy Apostles church—occupied by a Latin collegiate chapter—and the Byzantine Saint John Prodromos monastery (where restoration works were funded by John iii Vatatzes, sometime after the earthquakes in the 1230s), the San Marco dell’Embolo church and the annexed Christ Pantepoptes monastery (both owned by the Venetian San Giorgio monastery), the Franciscan church at the site of the current Kalenderhane Camii (new frescoes and possibly a bell tower), the Saint Samson complex (headquarters of a new military order under the patronage of the Latin emperors), and the Cistercian Saint Mary of Le Perchay monastery (which loaned the Latin emperor a substantial sum of money in the 1230s). In addition can be added that the dynamic local Dominican community no doubt possessed an (unidentified) convent which would have been kept in good condition; the Cistercian Sancta Maria Sancti Angeli monastery, traditionally situated in the Petra quarter (or possibly in Pera across the Golden Horn), which was no doubt founded by Emperor Henry, as Clair has argued convincingly, and which enjoyed the imperial patronage of his successors.12 Possibly also the Hagia Trias monastery (if actually located in Constantinople), 12

On the mentioned churches, see Janin, “Les sanctuaires de Byzance sous la domination latine,” 134–184. On the Saint John Prodromos monastery, see idem, La géographie ecclésiasique de l’empire byzantin, 422, and Joseph Gill, “An unpublished letter of Germanus, patriarch of Constantinople (1222–1240),” Byzantion 44 (1974) 139; the latter argues convincingly against Janin that the Saint John Prodromos was not taken over by Latin clerics. See also the references in Chapter 6, note 117 (Saint Samson) and Chapter 7, note 38 (Kalenderhane Camii). Specifically on the churches of the Cistercian and other Latin religious orders in Constantinople, see also Nickiphoros I. Tsougarakis, The Latin Religious Orders in Medieval Greece, 1204–1500, Medieval Church Studies 18 (Turnhout, 2012), 53–55, 61–67, 82–85, 106–108, 288, 293. Specifically on the Sanctus Angelus monastery and its location: Romain Clair, “Les filles d’Hautecombe dans l’Empire latin de Constantinople,” Analecta Sacri Ordinis Cisterciensis 17 (1961), 262–277; Raymond Janin, “Notes d’Histoire et de Topographie: l’abbaye cistercienne ‘Saint-Ange de Pétra’ (1214–1261),” Revue d’études byzantines 26 (1968), 171–177. Cistercian sources situate the monastery in Petra, but two letters in the papal registers throw some doubt on this localisation: the copy of a 1222 letter by Honorius iii addressed to the monastery contains a scribal note changing Petra to Perra, while in another (1225) the location reads Pera (Honorius iii, Bullarium Hellenicum, n° 135, n° 258). Whether the scribal note was indeed a correction or rather the introduction of an error is difficult to assess. The monastery could thus have been located in either the Petra quarter or in Pera. It was in any case not located in the Petrion quarter as I myself erroneously stated earlier (Van Tricht, The Latin Renovatio of Byzantium, 216).

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which was restored by Matthew Perdikares. Furthermore, it has been argued that the bell towers, seen as a Western innovation, at the Theotokos Pammakaristos, Kilise Camii, and Chora churches are probably to be attributed to the Latin period.13 John Thomas has remarked that due to the final 1219 compromise concerning the ecclesiastical possessions in the empire, confirmed by Emperor Robert in 1221, many (smaller) churches and monasteries may have been better off than in the period before 1204.14 The building of entirely new churches, in particular by the Latin emperors Henry and Baldwin ii, can also be attested. This disproves Jacoby’s statement that “they disregarded the historical, symbolic and ideological dimension of Constantinople as imperial capital, which the Byzantine emperors had decisively promoted by public works and by the construction and embellishments of churches and monasteries,” because “they lacked the imperial vision and deep-seated convictions of their Byzantine predecessors” and because “the absence of resources prevented them anyhow from engaging in urban enterprises,” although the author does admit that the first Latin emperors may still have possessed the financial means to offer a display of riches befitting their status. Henry indeed left his imprint on the city by founding a Cistercian monastery (Sancta Maria Sancti Angeli), a military hospital order (based at the Saint Samson complex), and by building a church dedicated to Saint Thorlac for the benefit of the Scandinavian community.15 He may have patronized Byzantine churches and monasteries in the capital as well, as he did in other parts of the empire (on Mount Athos for example).16 In view of the close relationship between the imperial court and mendicant orders, the Latin emperors may also have been instrumental in the foundation of the Franciscan and Dominican convents in the capital, first mentioned in 1220 and 1232 respectively. Baldwin ii had a beautiful Byzantine-style church dedicated to Saint George built in the later part of his reign. The fact that he instructed a Byzantine Greek priest 13

14 15 16

Van Tricht, The Latin Renovatio of Byzantium, 126–127 (Hagia Trias). Vasileios Marinis, Architecture and Ritual in the Churches of Constantinople (Cambridge, 2014), 97–98. Not all authors accept the attribution of these bell towers to the Latin period (or the flying butresses of Saint Sophia, or the stained glass in the Pantokrator): Bouras, “Architecture in Constantinople in the Thirteenth Century,” 105–110. On Byzantine opposition against Western-style bell towers before 1204: Alex Rodriguez Suarez, “Interacción entre latinos y bizantinos en vísperas de la Cuarta Cruzada (1204): el testimonio de Teodoro Balsamón,” Estudios bizantinos 4 (2016), 176–185. John P. Thomas, Private Religious Foundations in the Byzantine Empire, Dumbarton Oaks Studies 24 (Washington D.C., 1987), 246–247. Andrea Van Arkel De Leeuw Van Weenen and Krijnie Ciggaar, “St. Thorlac’s in Constantinople, built by a Flemish emperor,” Byzantion 49 (1979), 428–446. Van Tricht, The Latin Renovatio of Byzantium, 232–233.

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in his entourage (called Demetrios) may perhaps be seen as an indication that the emperor also cared for Byzantine ecclesiastical institutions in his capital. Interesting also is the earlier discussed passage in the Introductoire where our author quotes a certain Hermocrates, from which one could perhaps deduce an interest in architecture and building activities.17 The construction of (largely) Byzantine-style churches commissioned by Latin patrons is also to be found in other parts of the Latin empire, for example the Theotokos church at Merbaka in the principality of Achaia, probably built by William of Moerbeke during his time as archbishop of Corinth (1278–1286), or the katholikon of the Saint George monastery at Karditsa in the duchy of Athens, where a community of Byzantine monks was established and which was substantially renovated by the local lord Anthony le Flamenc (early 14th century).18 Baldwin’s Saint George church is an indication that the financial penury of the later emperors should be properly understood: they obviously lack the means to recover their empire (for example, the vast sums needed to assemble a mercenary army of any reasonable size and to put them in the field for a number of years), but this does not imply that they lacked the more modest necessary means to govern their city and engage in building activities and cultural enterprises. A Western observer, the English chronicler Ralph of Coggeshall, still described the Queen of Cities in the early 1220s as very rich and prosperous.19 17 18

19

For the church dedicated to Saint George: see Chapter 6, p. 147–148. For the passage featuring Hermocrates: see Chapter 5, p. 123–125. Guy Sanders, “Use of Ancient Spolia to Make Personal and Political Statements: William of Moerbeke’s Church at Merbaka (Ayia Triada, Argolida),” Hesperia 84 (2015), 583–626. Sophia Kalopissi-Verti, “Monumental Art in the Lordship of Athens and Thebes under Frankish and Catalan Rule (1212–1388): Latin and Greek Patronage,” in Nickiphoros I. Tsougarakis and Peter Lock, eds., A Companion to Latin Greece, Brill’s Companion’s to European History 6 (Leiden, 2014), 374–476. Conversely Byzantine churches showing Western influence in architecture or decoration are also found in Latin Romania, for example the Saints Peter and Paul church in Kalyvia Kouvara (Attica), founded in the early 1230’s by the Byzantine bishop Ignatios of Thermiai and Kea, and the Byzantine monastic church of Omorphi Ekklesia (1289) in Galatsi (Athens) with portraits of again the Saints Peter and Paul, but also a Cistercian monk and three Latin monastic saints (see Kalopissi-Verti, “Relations between East and West in the Lordship of Athens and Thebes after 1204: Archaeological and Artistic Evidence,” in Peter Edbury and idem, eds., Archaeology and the Crusades. Proceddings of the Round Table, Nicosia, 1 February 2005 (Athens, 2007), 12–23). Ralph of Coggeshall, Chronicon Anglicanum, ed. Joseph Stevenson, Rolls Series 66 (London, 1875), 149. Baldwin ii’s sometimes desperate attempts to raise money from the late 1240s on (mortgaging his ancestral Western possessions, mortgaging his son, etc.) should be seen in the context of the pressing military needs of the empire, and not so much as

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There is also evidence that the Latin emperors managed to maintain the two large palace complexes inside the Constantinopolitan walls, both the Great Palace and the Blacherna palace. Indeed, at the time of the Nicaean conquest in 1261 Baldwin ii resided at the Blacherna palace, while Michael viii chose to reside in the Great Palace. Both palace complexes were obviously still in shape to serve as places of residence. Pachymeres’ remark attributing damages to the Blacherna of smoke and soot, for which the Latins were responsible, is rather suspect when compared with Gregoras’ testimony regarding the 1261 fires. Also, Sanudo’s observation that Baldwin ii sold the lead from palace roofs does not have to refer to either of these two palaces. He may have lifted this lead from private palaces within Constantinople or one of the imperial palaces in the immediate vicinity of the capital (such as the Philopation palace), ­perhaps abandoned or partially destroyed by the 1231 and 1237 earthquakes. Public works in the sense of military fortifications also seem to have been undertaken on a fairly large scale. In late 1259–early 1260, Michael VIII personally undertook a large-scale siege of Galata, in preparation for an attack on Constantinople itself (thus copying the crusaders’ strategy in 1203). The operation failed however. Akropolites downplays the entire episode (obviously in order not to embarrass his admired emperor/employer), but the more critical Pachymeres has left a more detailed account. In his account, Galata at this time is described as a phrourion—the equivalent of the term kastron which could signify a fortress, a citadel, or a fortified town. It would seem that the latter meaning applies here, since the suburb appears to have been partially or entirely ramparted.20 Indeed, Pachymeres’ report is focused on how the (unsuccessful) Nicaean efforts were concentrated on attacking Galata’s walls. The same chronicler relates how in 1267, when the Genoese quarter was relocated from Constantinople proper to Galata, the emperor had all its fortifications demolished, implying that they were extensive.21 When the crusader army attacked the place in 1203 it was only defended by a small fort described by Villehardouin and others as the tower of Galata (la tor de Galathas). The suburb was burnt down by the crusaders, which has led most authors to assume that this tower too sustained heavy damages.22

20 21 22

an attempt to cover his ordinary expenses in Constantinople. On Baldwin’s loans and mortgages, see Wolff, “Mortgage and Redemption of an Emperor’s Son,” 52–54. G. Dimov, “The Notion of the Byzantine City in the Balkans and in Southern Italy–XI–XIIth centuries,” Realia Byzantino-Balcanica 5282 (2012), 328–343. Kazhdan, ed., The ­Oxford Dictionary of Byzantium, 2:1112. Georgios Pachymeres, Relations historiques, lib. 2, §20, §35. See also Geanakoplos, Emperor Michael Palaeologus and the West 1258–1282, 78. Geoffroy de Villehardouin, La conquête de Constantinople, §159–162. In general on Galata: Janin, Constantinople byzantine, 457–458.

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Between 1203 and 1259 Galata then must have been refortified with a fortress formidable enough to withstand a serious siege by the Nicaean forces, and probably the suburb had become ramparted (as it had been in a more distant past). Jacoby assumes that in 1261 Galata was still sparsely populated due to the 1203 fire, but one of Baldwin ii’s trusted advisers was his familiaris and vexilliferus Milo of Galata: it would seem that Galata before 1261 had again become a settlement important enough to adopt as one’s surname. Donald Nicol likewise considers Galata to have been a fortified suburb at this time, and Raymond Janin, following François-Alphonse Belin and Gualberto Matteucci, assumes that in the 1230s a new church and convent dedicated to Saint Francis, described in later times as a large and beautiful domed structure, was built there. Also, a Dominican convent with church (rebuilt and dedicated to Saint Paul in the early 14th century, to be identified with the later Arap Camii mosque), was probably established in Galata before 1260 (a tombstone was found at the site dated to this year).23 Dating this Latin major (re)fortification operation is speculative, but the period from the late 1220s on is most likely, because it was only from that moment that the capital came under threat from the Nicaean rulers.24 Outside the capital the Latin emperors restored or built fortifications as well: for example in the town of Pamphylon in Thrace in 1208, and at Aphameia in the direct vicinity of Constantinople sometime between

23

24

On Milo of Galata: Mazzoleni, Gli atti perduti della cancellaria angioina, 1: n° 418, 85. N ­ icol, Byzantium and Venice, 190. David Jacoby, “The Jewish Community of Constantinople from the Komnenian to the Palaiologan Period,” Vizantijskij Vremennik 55 (1998), 37. On the Franciscan convent: Janin, La géographie ecclésiasique de l’empire byzantin, 595–596. François-Alphonse Belin, Histoire de la Latinité de Constantinople (Paris, 1894), 187–188. Gualberto Mateucci, Un glorioso convento francescano sulle rive del Bosforo. Il S. Francesco di Galata in Constantinopoli, c. 1230–1697, Biblioteca di studi francescani 7 (Florence, 1967). On the Dominican convent: Eugenio Dalleggio d’Alessio, Le pietre sepolcrali di Arab Giamí, Atti della R. Deputazione di Storia Patria per la Liguria 5 (Genova, 1942), 9–10, 27 (n° 1); Haluk Cetinkaya, “Arap Camii in Istanbul. Its Architecture and Frescoes,” Antiqua Anatolia 18 (2010), 170–171. Palazzo (who was not familiar with the 1260 tombstone) has argued that the Dominican convent was only established in the early 14th century: Benedetto Palazzo, L’Arap-Djami ou église Saint-Paul à Galata (Istanbul, 1946); followed by Tommaso M. Violante, La provincia domenicana in Grecia, Dissertationes historicae 25 (Rome, 1999), 151. Düll does not accept Dalleggio’s 1260 date (Siegried Düll, “Die lateinischen Inschriften aus Istanbul vor und nach der osmanischen Eroberung – Vorarbeiten für ein neues Inschriftenprojekt in der Türkei,” in Walter Koch, ed., Epigraphik 1982 (Wien, 1983), 115. On both churches, see also summarily Mitsiou, “Die Netzwerke einer kulturellen Begegnung,” 342–343. See, for example, John iii Vatatzes’ sieges of Constantinople in 1235/1236 (see references in Chapter 3, note 26).

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1204 and 1260. Before 1204 in this village there had only been an imperial palace, but by 1260 it had been turned into a well fortified phrourion.25 All the examples of building activity (maintenance, restoration, embellishment, new structures, ecclesiastical and secular, private and public) together show that the bleak picture of Constantinopolitan architecture in this period, depicted by Talbot and Bouras does not seem to reflect historical reality. Kidonopoulos’ list of some twenty churches ruined under Latin rule may seem impressive, but in any age Constantinopolitan churches and monuments turned to ruins. For example, in the later 12th century Isaac ii Angelos (1185– 1195), according to Niketas Choniates, recycled materials from several neglected or ruined churches along the shore and from many prominent buildings of the imperial city, whose foundations afterwards remained a lamentable sight. Such was the situation for the construction of a new tower at the Blacherna complex. Isaac followed the same procedure, which clearly was not uncommon, for the restauration of the Michaelion at Sosthenion. According to Choniates, for that purpose the Mangana palace was destroyed and materials were taken from the Great Palace. Under Isaac’s reign the capital was, furthermore, struck by fire in 1192 and again in 1197.26 The hypothesis of a reasonable amount of building activity (both private and public, imperial and Venetian, ecclesiastical and lay, Latin and Byzantine) has the advantage of solving a problem that Bouras noticed, but could not address satisfactorily. The author observed that there was a large degree of continuity in building practices and techniques between the 12th and the late 13th/early 14th centuries. In his opinion this pointed to the continuity of metropolitan workshops, but it seemed unlikely to him that these would have moved from Constantinople after 1204 (to Nicaea, Epiros), and then returned after 1261. An obvious conclusion is that they never moved at all, no doubt because their skills sufficiently remained in demand. Robert Ousterhout in 1999, comparing the church at the site of the current Kalenderhane Camii (rebuilt and renovated probably in the late 12th century) and the Theotokos of Lips ­monastery 25

26

Henri de Valenciennes, Histoire de Henri de Constantinople, §550, §554. See Georgios Pachymeres, Relations historiques, lib. 2, §14. On Aphameia before 1204: Janin, Constantinople byzantine, 380, 443. Perhaps Aphameia is to be identified with Mouskes’ castel de La Flame (or de l’Aflame?) near Constantinople, mentioned in the context of the 1235 siege of the capital (Mouskes, Chronique rime, 2:616). Paul Magdalino, “Constantinopolitana,” in I. Sevcenko and I. Hutter, eds., aetos. Studies in Honour of Cyril Mango (Stuttgart, 1998), 227–230. Kallirroe Linardou, “A Resting Place for ‘The First of Angels’: The Michaelion at Sosthenion,” in Alicia Simpson, ed., Byzantium, 1180–1204: “The Sad Quarter of the Century?,” International Symposium 22 (Athens, 2015), 246, 250–252.

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(late 13th century), had arrived at the same conclusion, suggesting a continuity in the workshop practices of the Byzantine capital.27 This should not surprise: it is obvious from the accounts of both Clari and Villehardouin, a modest knight and a prominent baron, that the Latins had great admiration for the city’s monuments (palaces, churches) and works of art (including statues).28 So after the phase of conquest was over (with the fires and habitual looting and destruction), while they still had the means (until the early 1230s and—in the wake of the relatively successful 1238–1240 crusade, which reconquered part of Thrace—again in the 1240s), it is apparent that they would have invested in the maintenance and renovation of existing structures, and in the building of new ones. To ascribe to these crusaders a low cultural level, as Bouras explicitly does and as other authors implicitly do, seems rather uninformed. Many of the leading princes and barons had a clear interest, for example, in historical and romance literature and in poetry, and the first Latin emperorto-be Baldwin i before his crusade had already invested in new architectural enterprises in his home region, such as the collegiate church of Our Lady in Kortrijk/Courtrai (Flanders), located within the comital domain/castle, begun in 1199. This was not only inspired by piety, but also by a desire to strengthen the architectural representation of princely power in the urban space.29 Also, in most other regions of Latin Romania architectural and other cultural endeavours have been attested in the period 1204–1261, in Latin as well as in Byzantine milieus, including traces of cross-fertilization (with mixed work forces serving a heterogeneous clientele) and continued Constantinopolitan influence.30 27 28

29 30

Bouras, “Architecture in Constantinople in the Thirteenth Century,” 111–112. Robert Ousterhout, Master Builders of Byzantium (Princeton, 1999), 191–192. Robert de Clari, La conquête de Constantinople, §82–92. Geoffroy de Villehardouin, La conquête de Constantinople, §128. See also Devereaux, Constantinople and the West, 113–118. Ruth Macrides, “Constantinople: The Crusader’s Gaze,” in idem, ed., Travel in the Byzantine World (Aldershot, 2002), 197–204. Charles Mussely and Emile Molitor, eds., Cartulaire de l’ancienne église collégiale de Notre Dame à Courtrai (Gand, 1880), n° 17, 17–19. Prevenier, De oorkonden van de graven van Vlaanderen, 2: n° 287, 626–628. See, for example, the following recent contributions: Heather E. Grossman, “Syncretism Made Concrete: The Case for a Hybrid Moreote Architecture in Post-Fourth Crusade Greece,” in Deborah Deliyannis and Judson Emerick, eds., Archaeology in Architecture. Papers in Honor of Cecil L. Striker (Mainz, 2005), 65–73; M. Acheimastou-Potamianou, “Monumental Painting on the Aegean Islands in the Thirteenth Century: Rhodes and Naxos,” in Panayotis L. Vocotopoulos, ed., Byzantine Art in the Aftermath of the Fourth Crusade. The Fourth Crusade and Its Consequences. International Congress, March 9–12, 2004 (Athens, 2007), 25–30; Maria Panayotidi, “Les peintures murales de Saint-Georges de Lathrino à Naxos,” Deltion tis Christianikis Archaialogikis Etaireias 16 (1991–1992), 139–154; Angeliki

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Supporting this idea of maintenance, construction, and renovation under Latin rule is the enkomion on Constantinople entitled Byzantios by Theodore Metochites (circa 1307–1320), a high-ranking offical and scholar under Emperor Andronikos ii Paleologos. Although this eulogy was written f­ollowing (re)building and restauration activities under Michael viii—and (partly) ­Andronikos II—had taken place, it is remarkable that the author does not comment on any large-scale destruction or neglect during the period of Latin rule. There are a few generic references to building initiatives by Andronikos and his father, and one allusion to the fact that the city had been under Latin rule for some time (ἀποστατῶν). Mostly, however, Metochites’ picture of Constantinople is one of impressive magnificence on a vast scale and of great beauty of both public and private buildings, churches, charitable institutions, and fortifications. This is to be expected in a city enkomion, but as this was an oration probably delivered before the imperial court, the author presumably could not venture too far from reality. Near the end he stresses the continuity and durability of this magnificence throughout the history of the city until the present day.31 From this it might be concluded that, overall, the period of Latin rule, in spite of the destructive fires of 1203–1204, did not ruin the city: it remained an unmatched and marvellous metropolis, which Metochites a few decades later could praise abundantly and convincingly. With regard to other forms of artistic production in the capital apart from ­architecture, David Jacoby (along with Nino Chatzidakis) hypothesized that the continued existence of Byzantine churches and monasteries and the

31

Mitsani, “Monumental Painting in the Cyclades during the 13th century,” Deltion tis Christianikis Archaialogikis Etaireias 21 (2000), 93–122; Maria Vassilaki, “Crete under Venetian Rule. The Evidence of the Thirteenth Century Monuments,” in Panayotis L. Vocotopoulos, ed., Byzantine Art in the Aftermath of the Fourth Crusade. The Fourth Crusade and Its Consequences. International Congress, March 9–2, 2004 (Athens, 2007), 42–46. Amy Papalexandrou, “The Architectural Layering of History in the Medieval Morea. Monuments, Memories and Fragments of the Past,” in Sharon E. Gerstel, ed., Viewing the Morea. Land and People in the Late Medieval Peloponnese, Dumbarton Oaks Research Library and Collection (Washington D.C., 2013), 23–54; Sophia Kalopissi-Verti, “Monumental Art in the Lordship of Athens and Thebes,” 326–368; Robert Ousterhout, “Architecture and Cultural Identity in the Eastern Mediterranean,” in M ­ ichael Borgolte and Bernd Schneidmüller, eds., Hybrid Cultures in Medieval Europe (Berlin, 2010), 271; Maria Georgopolou, “Vernacular Architecture in Venetian Crete: Urban and Rural Practices,” Medieval Encounters 18 (2012), 447–480. Theodore Metochites, Byzantios, or About The Imperial Megalopolis. Introduction, text and commentary, ed. Irini Pougounia (Oxford, 2003), §4, §52–53, §55, §110. See also Andreas Rhoby, “Theodoros Metochites’ Byzantios and other city encomia of the 13th and 14th centuries,” in Ville de toute beauté. L’ekphrasis des cités dans les littératures byzantine et byzantino-slaves, Dossiers byzantins 12 (Paris, 2012), 81–99.

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­ resence of affluent Byzantines—for example in the imperial government but p successful businessmen as well—must have implied continued artistic activity, both production and training. Jacoby does, however, surmise that it must have been on a much smaller scale than before 1204, this due to the exodus of part of the metropolitan elite after the conquest, which in his eyes was not compensated by the influx of the crusader (and later Latin) nobles and knights.32 However, the exodus of the Byzantine elite should not be exaggerated, especially during the first decades of Latin imperial rule.33 At the same time the Latin immigration should not be underestimated either. Jacoby states that the presumably 3,000 Latins (according to the French and Greek versions of the Chronicle of Morea) who fled Constantinople when the city was captured by Michael viii’s forces in 1261 must have represented the majority of the Western population there.34 But according to Villehardouin in 1203 there were some 15,000 Westerners living in Constantinople, who virtually all came to the crusaders’ camp after the August fire.35 Although the Western population must have fluctuated in the years 1204–1261—with for example the sieges in the 1230s inducing people to flee and Baldwin ii’s 1238–1240 crusade providing new immigrants—there is little reason to assume that under Latin rule this number would have fallen drastically, not even by 1261 (note the growing commercial activity during the later decades).36 Indeed, George Pachymeres informs us that after Strategopoulos’ dramatic conquest of the city, a mass of Latins remained in the capital.37 Naturally, far from all Latins had the chance, or perhaps even the wish, to flee. Consequently, while the 1204 events no doubt to an extent did reduce the scale, the remaining Byzantine elite and population combined with the new Latin inflow (imperial court, barons and nobles, clerics, successful merchants) must still have created a considerable demand for artistic production. The artistic outings from this period that have been preserved (some securely dated, others less so) may be taken to confirm this view. They are essentially comprised 32

David Jacoby, “Byzantine Culture and the Crusader States,” in Dean Sakel, ed., Byzantine Culture. Papers from the Conference “Byzantine Days of Istanbu” May 21–23 2010 (Ankara, 2014), 205–206. See also the reference in Chapter 7, note 11. 33 Van Tricht, The Latin Renovatio of Byzantium, 24–39. 34 Longnon, Chronique de Morée, §85. Schmitt, The Chronicle of Morea, v1314–1324. Jacoby, “The Jewish Community of Constantinople,” 39, n. 55. 35 Geoffroy de Villehardouin, La conquête de Constantinople, §205. 36 On the negative demographic impact of the sieges in 1235–1236: Gualterius Cornutus, Historia susceptionis Corone Spinee, in Paul E. Riant, ed., Exuviae Sacrae Constantinopolitanae (Geneva, 1876), 1:50. On the 1238–1240 crusade: Chrissis, Crusading in Frankish Greece, 120–126. On the economic situation, see references in Chapter 7, note 11. 37 Georgios Pachymeres, Relations historiques, lib. 2, §30.

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of monumental, icon and miniature painting, but also sculpture and precious metal work. Of pivotal importance is the fresco cycle adorning the walls of a chapel, which during the Latin period became dedicated to Saint Francis of Assisi, located in the church today known as Kalenderhane Camii and during the Byzantine period probably dedicated to the Theotokos Kyriotissa. The building was no doubt occupied by Franciscans (although other suggestions have been made), who are first attested in Constantinople around 1220. The frescoes have been dated sometime between 1228 (when Francis was canonized) and 1261. In 1967 the cycle was discovered and intensively studied by Cecil L. Striker, but it is Jaroslav Folda who in his synthesis on crusader art in the Holy Land in the 13th century has advanced a number of observations that are of the utmost importance for our understanding of artistic life in Latin Constantinople. Folda concludes that the decoration of the chapel was done by a mixed workshop composed of both Latin (Italian) and Byzantine painters. A vaulted arch in front of the apse of the chapel is decorated with frescoes of two Greek Church Fathers in a purely Byzantine style, but with a Latin inscription, while the frescoes depicting the life of Saint Francis (the earliest in either East or West) have been executed in what Folda calls the Franco-Byzantine style. From the fact that these are accomplished frescoes in a fully formed original style, Folda deduces that the workshop responsible must have already been in existence for a longer period of time, and must have produced a range of other works as well (although no other appear to have been preserved). In this context it is interesting to recall the close links existing between the Franciscan community and the imperial court. The author sees Latin Constantinople as the most likely place of origin and development of this Franco-Byzantine style, which is characterized by a combination of aspects of Western Gothic and Byzantine painting. From there the style would have been exported to, among others, the kingdom of Jerusalem and especially its capital Acre, where a number of magnificent works in the same Franco-Byzantine style have been preserved.38 38

Jaroslav Folda, Crusader Art in the Holy Land, from the Third Crusade to the Fall of Acre, 1187–1291 (Cambridge, 2005), 299–310. See also Cecil L. Striker and Y. Dogan Kuban, eds., Kalenderhane in Istanbul: The Buildings, Their History, Architecture, and Decoration (Mainz, 1997). Rosalind B. Brooke, The Image of Saint Francis. Responses to Sainthood in the Thirteenth Century (Cambrigde, 2006), 202–215. Brooke suggests John of Brienne might have donated the church complex to the Franciscans, but it may just as well have been for example Emperor Robert, regent/empress Mary of Courtenay, imperial heir Baldwin ii, or the Latin patriarch. On the Kalenderhane frescoes, see also the remarks in Cathérine Jolivet-Levy, “La peinture à Constantinople au XIIIe siècle. Contacts et échanges avec

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Apart from the Byzantine artist(s) who apparently, and for some time, belonged to the workshop responsible for the Kalenderhane frescoes, other Byzantine painters are attested as well in Latin Constantinople, who may have belonged to purely Byzantine workshops. This can be recovered from literary sources. The vita of Saint Sava written by Teodosije (late 13th century), a monk of the Serbian Chilandar monastery on Mount Athos, informs us that Sava brought painters from Constantinople, one “exceptionally gifted artist” among them according to Dragan Vojvodic, to decorate the newly constructed church of the monastery in Serbian Zica, founded circa 1207/1208 by Sava and his brother, the first Serbian king-to-be Stephen i Nemanja. The complex took some ten years to be built. This renders it likely that Sava recruited the painters from the Queen of Cities in the context of his visit in 1219 to ­Nicaea, where he conducted business with the Byzantine patriarch regarding the status and organization of the Serbian Church. An earlier vita by Domentijan (mid-13th-century) further mentions that in 1235, returning from a journey to the Holy Land and shortly before his death, while staying at the Saint Andrew metochion in Constantinople (a dependency of the Theotokos Evergetis ­monastery outside the city walls), Sava conducted unspecified business with local Byzantine artists, who are designated as “imperial masters.”39 These testimonies not only attest to the presence of Byzantine painters in the capital, but also—and more importantly—to the fact that Constantinople in this period remained a center, or perhaps rather the center, from where such artists were being recruited by patrons from outlying regions of what has sometimes been called the Byzantine Commonwealth. Indeed, there is as far as I know no evidence that Sava contacted artists from post-1204 Byzantine centers such as Nicaea, Arta, Thessaloniki, or Trebizond (where local workshops existed), but twice he did so from Constantinople. In spite of the 1204 conquest, it appears that he still regarded the metropolitan workshops as those where the

39

l’Occident,” in Fabienne Joubert and Jean-Pierre Caillet, eds., Orient & Occident méditerranéens au XIIIe siècle. Les programmes picturaux (Paris, 2012), 27–28. On the close connection between the local Franciscans and the imperial court, see references in Chapter 2, note 29. Dimitri Obolensky, Six Byzantine Portraits (Oxford, 1988), 137, 167–168. Milka CanakMedic, Danica Popovic, and Dragan Vojvodic, eds., Zica Monastery (Belgrade, 2014), 520, 538–539. See also Van Tricht, The Latin Renovatio of Byzantium, 404–406. Jacoby, “The Greeks of Constantinople under Latin Rule,” 65–66. The Theotokos Evergetis monastery had been donated in 1206 by papal legate Benedict of Saint Suzanna to the Benedictine monastery of Monte Cassino (confirmed by Honorius iii in 1217 and 1222), but obviously the local Byzantine community was not displaced (Janin, La géographie ecclésiasique de l’empire byzantin, 178–183; Mitsiou, “Die Netzwerke einer kulturellen Begegnung,” 341).

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best artists were to be found.40 No doubt Sava was not the only one to think so, and he was not the only prominent churchman within the wider Byzantine space to visit Latin Constantinople either. The Russian bishop Vladimir of Polotsk visited Constantinople in 1218, from where he brought home items including several Passion relics which he presented to prince Constantine of Vladimir. Archbishop Anthony of Novgorod may have done the same in 1210. Sava himself possibly acquired his impressive collection of Passion relics—which were donated to the Zica monastery (presumably in late 1219)—from Constantinople as well. During the first decades following 1204 the distribution of Passion relics—most of which were kept in the Theotokos tou Pharou chapel in the Great Palace (which was not ­plundered during the Latin capture of Constantinople)—remained predominantly in the hands of the now Latin Constantinopolitan emperors. It is not unlikely that Sava—and also bishop Vladmir—obtained at least part of his collection through this conduit. The fact that the provenance of Sava’s relics is not stated anywhere—for example in the donation charter (1219/20) or in any of the vitae concerning Saint Sava—may indeed point in the direction of the Latin emperors. Any reference to such an association was presumably to be avoided for an Orthodox Church leader, with the Serbian ambition for definitive political autonomy a factor as well.41 In the early 1230s, bishop Marc of Preslav, acting 40

41

On local workships in Epiros and the Nicaean empire, see, for example, Panayotis L. Vocotopoulos, “Art in Epiros in the Thirteenth Century,” in idem, ed., Byzantine Art in the Aftermath of the Fourth Crusade. The Fourth Crusade and Its Consequences. International Congress, March 9–12, 2004 (Athens, 2007), 57–62; Acheimastou-Potamianou, “Monumental Painting on the Aegean Islands in the Thirteenth Century: Rhodes and Naxos,” 25–30. On the flourishing of fresco painting workshops in the duchy of Athens and the princiality of Achaia from the first half of the 13th century on: Sophia Kalopissi-Verti, “The Impact of the Fourth Crusade on Monumental Painting in the Peloponnese and Eastern Central Greece,” in Panayotis L. Vocotopoulos, ed., Byzantine Art in the Aftermath of the Fourth Crusade. The Fourth Crusade and Its Consequences. International Congress, March 9–12, 2004 (Athens, 2007), 82–88. See (with further references) on bishop Vladimir and archbishop Anthony: Van Tricht, The Latin Renovatio of Byzantium, 424–426. See on the Passion relics acquired by Saint Sava (who did not visit Jerusalem, another possible place of origin for such relics, until 1229): Danica Popovic, “Sacrae Reliquiae of the Saviour Church in Zica [in Serbo-Croatian],” in Pod okriljem svetosti. Kult svetih vladara i relikvija u srednjovekovnoj Srbiji (Belgrade, 2006), 207–232; idem, “A staurotheke of Serbian provenance in Pienza,” Zograf 36 (2012), 163–164. Teodosije in his vita for example does mention that Sava acquired a staurotheke with a fragment of the True Cross from John iii Vatatzes, which he subsequently donated to the Chilandar monastery on Mount Athos. The author obviously was of the opinion that a “relic-association” with the Nicaean emperor (in the context of broader diplomatic relations) need not be problematic.

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as emissary of the Bulgarian tsar Ivan ii Asen (1218–1241), obtained from the Latin authorities in Constantinople the relics of Saint Paraskeva.42 It would seem that after 1204 the now Latinized Constantinopolitan court up to a point continued to play its role as gift giver—with its connations of superiority vis-àvis the recipients—also within the so-called Byzantine Commonwealth. High-quality icon painting also appears to be attested under Latin rule. Two magnificent works of art have recently been convincingly attributed, on both stylistic and technical grounds (chrysography), to Latin Constantinople around 1260–1261 by Folda. These are the Kahn Madonna and the Mellon Madonna, although earlier authors expressed different opinions both geographically (Italy) and chronologically (after 1261). Both icons are representations of the Virgin with Child of the Hodegetria type. This was the most significant and widespread Byzantine icon type of the Theotokos, inter alia because the preserved original, said to have been brought to Constantinople by Empress Pulcheria (399–453), was considered to have been painted by Saint Luke himself. After 1204 this original model eventually came to be kept at the Pantokrator ­complex, where the headquarters of the Venetian podestà and administration were located.43 The Kahn and Mellon Madonna’s are executed in the innovative Franco-Byzantine style and were probably done by two different artists. According to Folda these were presumably Italians belonging to the same workshop and working for local Italian patrons. Venetian, Pisan, Tuscan, and other merchant communities, with their own ecclesiastical institutions, emerge, but also for example the Franciscans in the city, headed by the Italian provincial Benedict of Arezzo, who as said maintained close contacts with the imperial court, in particular with the emperors John of Brienne and Baldwin ii.44 42

43 44

Euthymius, patriarch von Bulgarien, Werke (1375–1393), ed. Emil Kaluzniacki (Vienna, 1901), 75–77. In Latin translation: Euthymios primas Bulgariae, Vita Sancti Parasceves Virginis, trans. L.M. Rigollot, Acta Sanctorum. Auctaria Octobris 14 (Paris, n.d.), 165–167. Ioannes C. Tarnanides, “Byzantine-Bulgarian ecclesiastical relations during the reigns of Joannis Vatatzis and Ivan Asen ii, up to the year 1235,” Cyrillomethodianum 3 (1975), 34, 51. Petre Guran, “La légitimation du pouvoir princier dans les hagiographies slavo-byzantines (XIe–XIVe siècles),” ARCHÆUS. Etudes d’histoire des religions 4 (2000), 294–305. On the Virgin Hodegetria icon attributed to Saint Luke after 1204: see references in Chapter 3, note 75. Jaroslav Folda and Lucy J. Wrapson, Byzantine Art and Italian Panel Painting. The Virgin and Child Hodegetria and the Art of Chrysography (Cambridge, 2015), 115–130. For a review of differing opinions: Rebecca W. Corrie, “The Kahn and Mellon Madonnas and their place in the history of the Virgin and Child Enthroned in Italy and the East,” in Maria Vassilaki, ed., Images of the Mother of God. Perceptions of the Theotokos in Byzantium (Aldershot, 2005), 293–303; more succinctly in Jolivet-Levy, “La peinture à Constantinople au XIIIe siècle,” 22.

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In addition, a beautiful mosaic icon of the Virgin Hodegetria in the FrancoByzantine style has also been attributed to Latin Constantinople, probably to be dated in the first decades after 1204. Folda has suggested it was produced by an artist of Venetian heritage who had studied with Byzantine mosaicists. If the attribution is correct, this mosaic icon proves that the art of mosaic continued to be practiced in Constantinople, even though to my knowledge no other mosaics from the Latin period have been preserved or identified as such. Folda further evaluates the icon as an impressive work of art, remarkable as it is the earliest example of the divinely radiant Virgin using chrysography (which was not known on Byzantine icons). This style of imagery influenced not only the artists who produced the Kahn and Mellon Madonna’s, but also painters in Pisa and Siena in the West.45 The continued presence of a Pisan community in Constantinople after 1204 (with its own quarter and churches) and also that of Sienese merchants (attested in particular in the 1250s) should be noted.46 Apart from artists of Western origin working in the newly developed Franco-­Byzantine style, Byzantine workshops producing high-quality, purely Byzantine-style icons probably remained also active in the capital. This is what Chatzidakis deduces from her analysis of icon painting in the Byzantine space after the Latin conquest. She suggests that the remarkable continuity between those icons produced in Constantinople around 1204 and those produced in the capital shortly after 1261, implies not only “the continuity of the activity of the Constantinople workshops, but also of the uninterrupted evolution of their art, which created a new style of a very high standard and with an impressive quality of style.”47 Quite possibly not only the production of icons of sacred figures continued, but also that of painted imperial icons. It is known that an imperial portrait (icon) of Henry of Flanders/Hainaut was once kept at the Great Lavra monastery on Mount Athos. Whether this was

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Folda and Wrapson, Byzantine Art and Italian Panel Painting, 97–99. David Jacoby, “The Minor Western Nations in Constantinople. Trade and Shipping from the Early Twelfth Century to 1261,” in Kostas Tsiknaknis and Gogo Varzelioti, eds., Galinotati timi sti Chrysa Maltezou (Athens, 2013), 326–327. Nano Chatzidakis, “The Character of the Painting of Icons from Latin-held Areas,” in Panayotis L. Vocotopoulos, ed., Byzantine Art in the Aftermath of the Fourth Crusade. The Fourth Crusade and Its Consequences. International Congress, March 9–12, 2004 (Athens, 2007), 133–142. Chatzidakis’ view nuances the prevalent assumption that after 1204 Byzantine painters fled the capital; see, for example, Maria Panayotidi, “Thirteenth-Century Icons and Frescoes at Catherine’s Monastery on Mount Sinai. Some Observations,” in Fabienne Joubert and Jean-Pierre Caillet, eds., Orient & Occident méditerranéens au XIIIe siècle. Les programmes picturaux (Paris, 2012), 87, 92, 97.

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sent from the capital (the imperial court) or was produced locally cannot be ascertained.48 The presence of both monumental and icon painting workshops (Byzantine, Western, or mixed) makes it probable that workshops producing illuminated manuscripts likewise remained active in Latin Constantinople, as Chatzidakis also surmised, although as Nelson argued the patronage of manuscript production must have been somewhat disrupted by the events of 1204.49 In a 1944 article Kurt Weitzmann attributed a group of illuminated manuscripts to Latin Constantinople. The author argued for a close stylistic similarity between the portraits of the evangelists in these manuscripts and those in the so-called Wolfenbüttel sketchbook. There is a relative consensus that the sketchbook was produced in the 1230s, probably by a Venetian artist who had been studying Byzantine models. In addition to this chronological argument, Weitzman related the fact that some of the miniatures contain Latin scripts geographically to Constantinople. Furthermore, one of the manuscripts (Paris gr. 54) was a bilingual Gospel book, which seemed to fit Constantinople under Western rule (the mixed Latin-Byzantine communities in the Franciscan and Dominican convents, the mixed composition of the imperial court).50 Weitzmann hypothesized that his group of manuscripts was modeled after 10th century-models and was commissioned by, or adjusted for, Latin customers. Some authors have accepted Weitzmann’s conclusions, but others have questioned them, proposing later dates and alternative places of origin for these manuscripts, mostly relegating them to the later 13th century (in any case after 1261) and the Paleologan imperial court. No consensus exists and more research into the matter is needed.51 Apart from the Weitzmann group (which according to some should not be considered as a group) a number of manuscripts in the so-called decorative style (circa 1150–1250) studied by Annemarie Carr have also been dated in the years following 1204, and attributed to Constantinopolitan artists. Although such Constantinopolitan artists 48

49 50 51

Paul Lemerle, André Guillou, Nicolas Svoronos, and Denise Papachryssanthou, eds., Actes de Lavra iv, Archives de l’Athos 11 (Paris, 1982), 6. Van Tricht, The Latin Renovatio of Byzantium, 89. See also Elisabeta Negrau, “The Ruler’s Portrait in Byzantine Art. A Few Observations regarding Its Functions,” European Journal of Science and Theology 7 (2011), 63–75. Nelson, “The Italian appreciation and appropriation of illuminated Byzantine manuscripts,” 212–213. Kurt Weitzmann, “Constantinopolitan Book Illumination in the Period of the Latin ­Conquest,” Gazette des Beaux-Arts 25 (1944), 193–214. An overview of the debate in Kathleen Maxwell, Between Constantinople and Rome: An Illuminated Gospel Book (Paris gr. 54) and the Union of Churches (Farnham, 2014), 145–150. Folda and Wrapson, “Byzantine Art and Italian Panel Painting,” xxiii.

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could have migrated to other regions, here again we find a possible indication for the continued activity of Byzantine metropolitan workshops producing illuminated manuscripts under Latin rule. At the middle of the 13th century, circa 1250, one John Alexis, son of Michael Alexis, donated an evangeliary to the Theotokos tes Varaggiotisses monastery (which could, however, have been produced before 1204).52 Apart from painting, other arts were practiced in Latin Constantinople. The goldsmith Gerard, a master of the Mosan school, executed a splendid golden reliquary of the True Cross for Emperor Henry (the inscription on the reliquary, in itself an interesting encomiastic depiction of Henry’s dignity, reads: “Condidit oc singnum Gerardi dextera dingnum/quod iussit/mondus rex ­Francus duxque secondus Grecorum dictus Henricus ut oc benedictus/bello securus semper maneat quasi murus. Amen”), which either before or after 1261 was transported to Venice where it came to be preserved in the treasury of San Marco.53 The design of the reliquary is notable for its incorporation of caryatids, which have been described as extremely original by art historian Danielle Gaborit-Chopin, and which were perhaps inspired by the classical legacy present in Constantinople or other regions of Latin Romania (such as the Erechteion on the Acropolis in Athens). The presence of a Mosan goldsmith working for the Latin imperial court is interesting in itself. Apparently, Gerard migrated to Constantinople, probably sometime after 1204, either at the emperor’s request (Henry continued his contacts with his home region) or on his own initiative. He must have seen a viable future for himself in the Byzantine capital, which points to a steady demand for precious metal work. Another magnificent piece that has been attributed to the Latin imperial court, though on more hypothetical grounds than the reliquary, is a silver plate depicting the Ascension of Alexander the Great, a scene recounted in both Greek and Western versions of the Alexander romance and a popular subject in both Byzantine and Romanesque art. The plate which is datable to the early 52

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Annemarie Carr, Byzantine Illumination, 1150–1250: The Study of a Provincial Tradition, Studies in Medieval Manuscript Illumination 47 (Chicago, 1987), 81–103. Kathleen Maxwell, “The Afterlife of Texts: Decorative Style Manuscripts and New Testament Textual Criticism,” in Lynn Jones, ed., Byzantine Images and Their Afterlives. Essays in Honor of Annemarie Weyl Carr (Farnham, 2014), 32–36. On John Alexis: Janin, La géographie ecclésiasique de l’empire byzantin, 165–166. Danielle Gaborit-Chopin, The Treasury of San Marco (New York, 1984), 244–251 (“The hand of Gerard has made this venerable sign, which the pure [or: universal—if in this instance we associate mondus/mundus with mundanus] king and second Frankish leader of the Greeks named Henry commanded, so that this blessed sign—as if it were a wall— would always keep him protected in war. Amen.”).

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13th century presents a mix of traditional Byzantine secular style and clear Western elements (especially the enthroned Alexander). Two elements point to Emperor Henry’s entourage. Associations between Henry—or Latin emperors in general—and Alexander existed (such as Valenciennes’ chronicle and possibly also his Lai d’Aristote, Cono of Béthune’s No m’agrad iverns ni pascors, the mentioned song in vernacular Greek). In addition, one of the medallions on the plate depicts how a spear-bearing horseman attacked by a mounted archer is rescued by a rider with raised sword, a scene that mirrors rather strikingly a passage in Valenciennes’ chronicle where Henry rescues one of his vassals attacked by Cuman warriors in a similar manner.54 In Thessaloniki a jewellery hoard has been found, presumably from the Latin period (before 1224), containing metal work with a mix of Byzantine and Western characteristics, alongside objects that are exclusively Byzantine or Western in style. As former owner a member of the local Latin elite has been suggested.55 Finally, sculpture workshops remained part of the artistic infrastructure of the capital, although the evidence is sketchy. The Dominican Saint Paul church in Galata, for example, contained a beautifully sculpted Gothic marble tombstone (dated 1260), decorated inter alia with the Agnus Dei carrying a crossstandard, the family arms, and floral elements.56 Such sculpted tombstones have also been preserved from other Latin regions, including the principality of Achaia.57 The French artist—sculptor and possibly architect/engineer—­ Villard of Honnecourt may have worked in the Byzantine capital. Villard’s unique, partially preserved, sketchbook attests to a stay in Hungary. Imre Takács has proposed that Villard belonged to emperor-elect Robert of Courtenay’s entourage on his journey from the West to Constantinople, spending the winter of 1220/1221 at the Hungarian court with his sister, Queen Yolande. Villard was geographically connected to the Courtenay ancestral lands in France and he may been involved in the creation of a fragmentarily preserved grave slab of a knight’s tomb in the Cistercian monastery of Pilis, a royal foundation. The slab is stylistically very similar to drawings in Villard’s sketchbook and may have

54 55

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Helen C. Evans and William D. Wixom, eds., The Glory of Byzantium: Art and Culture of the Middle Byzantine Era, a.d. 843–1261 (New York, 1997), n° 267, 399–401. Bosselmann-Ruickbie, “Contact between Byzantium and the West,” 91–92. Idem, “A 13th Century Jewellery Hoard From Thessalonica: A Genuine Hoard Find or an Art Dealer’s Compilation?,” in Chris Entwistle and Noel Adams, eds., Intelligible Beauty. Recent Research on Byzantine Jewellery, British Museum Publications 178 (London, 2010), 219–232. Dalleggio d’Alessio, Le pietre sepolcrali di Arab Giamí, 27 (n° 1). Antoine Bon, “Dalle funéraire d’une princesse de Morée (XIIIe siècle),” Monuments et mémoires de la Fondation Eugène Piot 49 (1957), 129–139.

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contained the Courtenay coat of arms.58 If Takács is correct Villard must have travelled with Robert all the way to Constantinople, which would confirm that the city held a certain appeal in the eyes of Western artists as a place to work. On the Byzantine side a tombstone containing a Greek inscription (including a traditional curse formula, dated 1236) has been preserved. More important, however, is a large ivory diptych of the highest quality—“brillament sculpté, avec vigueur,” according to Jannic Durand—depicting the Nativity, Crucifixion and eighteen prophets. The most likely hypothesis concerning its origin is that it was produced in a Constantinopolitan workshop during the late Latin period or the first years of Paleologan rule. Two similar diptychs—of which one was previously attributed to a Veneto-Byzantine workshop—can be attributed to the same workshop. They all share a unique combination of engraved and raised inscriptions (in Greek), expert knowledge of both classical (Late Antiquity) and Western Romanesque models, and an expressive style prefiguring characteristics of later Paleologan art (relief, movement, volume).59 Of course, in general the building and restoration of churches in any case must have necessitated a certain amount of sculptural production by either Western or ­Byzantine artists.

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Imre Takács, “The French Connection. On the Courtenay Family and Villard de Honnecourt à propos a 13th Century Incised Slab from Pilis Abbey,” in Jiri Fajt, and Markus Hörsch, eds., Künstlerische Wechselwirkungen in Mitteleuropa (Ostfildern, 2006), 11–27. The author’s attribution of the slab to Emperor Robert’s personal tomb is not convincing: a contemporary source states that Robert died in Achaia (1227)—where his sister Agnes reigned as princess together with her husband Geoffrey ii of Villehardouin—on his way from Rome to Constantinople (Van Tricht, “Robert of Courtenay,” 1021). Takács’ hypothesis concerning Villard and the Pilis grave slab has not been universally accepted: Elek Benkö, “Abenteuerlicher Herrscher oder Gütiger Patron? Anmerkungen zu der Rittergrabplatte aus dem Zisterzienserkloster Pilis,” Acta Archaeologica Academiae Scientiarum Hungaricae 59 (2008), 469–483. Igor Sevcenko, “A Byzantine Inscription from the Period of the Latin Domination in Constantinople,” in Dickran K. Kouymjian, ed., Near Eastern Numismatics, Iconography, Epigraphy and History. Studies in Honor of George C. Miles (Beirut, 1974), 383–386. Jannic ­Durand, “Diptyque en ivoire byzantin du xiiie siecle representant la Nativite, la Crucifixion et des prophètes,” La Revue des musées de France. Revue du Louvre 2013/3 (juin), 11–13.

Conclusion The exploration and contextualization of our astrological corpus of texts has led me to touch upon a broad range of topics, including internal and external Constantinopolitan politics and various aspects of the sociocultural life in the capital around the mid-13th century. It is time now to draw some general conclusions from my findings. But here the following difficulty presents itself. Many of my interpretations and suggestions must, necessarily, remain hypothetical. This is in part due to the nature of available sources (for example the astrological corpus itself), but also to the paucity of these sources. Indeed, one really must scrape the barrel, so to speak, in order to gain some measure of insight into the political and sociocultural life of Latin Constantinople. Many hypotheses must remain unconfirmed, leaving many uncertainties, as there is little chance in the years to come that new sources of any substantial scale will be unearthed. Nevertheless, our astrological corpus proves that even a single relatively neglected manuscript has the potential for us to rethink our concept of Latin-Byzantine Constantinople. Some might say that the paucity of the sources is evidence that nothing much has been preserved because there simply never was nothing much to preserve in the first place. Under the motto “absence of evidence is not to be confused with evidence of absence” I would tend to disagree with such a proposition. For the Byzantine space the source material is rarely extravagant and the period of Latin rule in the capital especially can be considered to have been prone to comprehensive losses, either because of general neglect, complete indifference, or even conscious damnatio memoriae initiatives. Latin Constantinople’s end was sudden and after July 25th 1261 few people would have shown an interest in actively preserving the Latin legacy (at the imperial court, in ecclesiastical institutions). This being said I would like to adopt what I am calling a maximalist approach in formulating my conclusions, somewhat provocatively assuming that the hypotheses I have formulated are correct. By embracing such a polarizing perspective, I hope to stimulate further debate. The picture I may then paint of Constantinople around the mid-13th century is that of a capital which managed to maintain or regain its vitality despite the 1204 debacle. The imperial city was not an overripe fruit fatalistically waiting to be reaped by new conquerors. It was not a city dominated by an overriding sense of passivity or apathy in all spheres of life, quite the contrary. The LatinByzantine encounter in various ways led to a situation where Constantinople, more than ever, became a laboratory for intensive transcultural exchange, an

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exchange that might have resulted in a new hybrid Latin-Byzantine supra­culture in the m ­ aking had Latin rule not have been terminated so abruptly. On the internal political level, Baldwin ii and his entourage adopted key tenets of Byzantine state ideology mixed together with Western elements, Latin barons and Byzantine dignitaries and functionaries made up the composition of the imperial court, and Byzantine and Western institutions (court nomenclature, feudal, fiscal) existed side by side. However, the metropolitan governmental elite, especially after the death of Emperor Henry, became internally divided on the question of Latin-Byzantine power sharing. This divide may have been a factor in the (hypothetical) succession conflict between Baldwin ii and the Brienne family. Latin Constantinople obviously did not remain free from serious power struggles. The problematic relationship with Venice is a further illustration. In addition, barons in southern Greece may have advocated the view that the great barons rather than the emperor should be at the core of imperial policy-making. Given the fairly continuous climate of crisis this position should not come as a surprise and could not have helped in the defense against the many external enemies. Nevertheless with regard to external politics the ambition to restore the empire’s geopolitical hegemony within the Byzantine space—including the Latin Orient—was never abandoned. The 1259 Pelagonia coalition could have been disastrous for the Nicaean empire and its ascending geopolitical power was perhaps rather due to external factors. It suffered practically no impact from the Mongol invasions, which severely affected all neighbouring states—among them Hungary, Bulgaria, and the Sultanate of Konya—and Constantinople itself. That Nicaea’s internal strength may have been overrated would seem to be confirmed by the fact that the restored Paleologan empire collapsed rather quickly, and, as it turned out, irreversibly. The Pelagonia debacle was not the end of the Latin emperors’ attempt to rebuild their empire. Quite the contrary, it was immediately followed by yet another project, the ConstantinopolitanCastilian alliance, which was in the making in the years 1260/61. The project seemed promising and without the 1261 loss of Constantinople it could have succeeded in restoring some of the Latin empire’s territories and geopolitical standing. When we look at the social fabric of Latin-Byzantine Constantinople the importance of mixed marriages should be highlighted. These were not uncommon within the top aristocracy and the court elite (Toucy-Branas, CayeuxLaskaris, Clermont-Angelos, Navigaioso-Philokales, etc.), as well as among the commercial milieus and communities (the gasmouloi). These families and their offspring must have formed a direct physical link between the Latin and Byzantine components of both the metropolitan elite and the general pop-

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ulation. This could lead to a partial adoption of the language, customs, and values of the “other,” with Byzantines familiarizing themselves with Western languages and Latins with Greek. And with Latins embracing Byzantine educational and intellectual values (for example, our anonymous author’s emphasis on ­Baldwin ii’s rethorical qualities). Byzantines also entered Western r­ eligious orders (Franciscans, Dominicans), while others resisted Latin religious influence (and could apparently do so without much consequence during the later decades). Of course, metropolitan multiculturalism after 1204 was much more than the Latin-Byzantine duality. The Latin component was diverse in itself (French, Flemish, and Champenois nobles, knights, and soldiers; the Provençal, Venetian, Pisan, Tuscan, Lombard trading communities which revitalized the metropolitan economy together with Greek merchants and artisans), while the Byzantine element was pluriform as well with inter alia Greeks, Armenians, and Bulgarians. Apart from this I have adduced evidence that a Muslim community remained present in the city as well. This melting pot appears to have led to interesting developments in the cultural sphere. Western chroniclers like Villehardouin and Valenciennes may have been influenced by Byzantine historical writing. Classical influence, possibly related to a degree to the Byzantine context, can be discerned in fictional works of literature as well. Some Byzantine authors also might have written accounts—historical or panegyrical—of Latin imperial rule. In the literary sphere, Latin-Byzantine Constantinople, with its specific aristocratic social fabric, may well have played an important role in the development of the romance in vernacular Greek. In the sciences a flourishing of astronomy/­ astrology is attested (testified by our corpus, which was influenced by both Western and Greek/Byzantine sources, and possibly a Greek treatise), and with William of Moerbeke a major contributor to the Latin translation movement of classical Greek works. In theology the Latin-Byzantine divide provided opportunities for both parties to produce original works (the bilingual and original Contra Graecos and a small Greek contribution on the azymes issue). With the both comprehensive and popular Zonarae Lexicon, an important Byzantine work of science was probably produced, which would indicate that ­Byzantine intellectual life in Constantinople did not cease after 1204. A number of elements point to a mixed Latin-Byzantine community of learning coming into being. The significance of Latin-Byzantine Constantinople as an intellectual center should indeed be considered. Although Emperor Theodore ii in one of his letters showed himself dismissive of Latin learning (in the context of the diplomatic mission of marquis Berthold of Hohenburg), in another letter he stated: “τεκμαίρομαι γοῦν κἀκ τούτου ἀποχωρίσειν ἀφ’ ἡμῶν τὴν

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φιλοσοφίαν (Ἑλλήνων γὰρ ἄυτη, παρ’ ὥν νῦν ὡς ἀλλοδαπὴ ἀτιμάζεται) καὶ τοῖς βαρβάροις προσκολληθῆναι καὶ δοξάσαι ἀυτούς.”1 Artistic production in the capital did not come to a stop after 1204, despite the losses sustained due to the circumstances of the successive sieges in 1203– 1204. The emperors, ecclesiastical institutions (especially the mendicant orders it would seem), the Venetian community, and private individuals—both Latin and Byzantine members of the metropolitan elite—invested in architectural and other artistic enterprises. The capital, furthermore, appears to have witnessed original artistic developments, such as the creation of the FrancoByzantine style in painting (monumental, icons) and the presence of mixed Latin-Byzantine workshops. The continuation of purely Byzantine traditions and practices in a number of artistic disciplines (monumental painting, icons, architecture, mosaic, etc.) can likewise be argued (alongside purely Western forms), including the preservation of a certain measure of metropolitan centrality and influence vis-à-vis the larger Byzantine space. A final observation is the centrality of the imperial court with regard to Constantinopolitan dynamics after 1204. Many of the protagonists and projects discussed were in some way connected to the imperial court: our anonymous astrologer, Villehardouin, Valenciennes, quite possibly William of Moerbeke, phylax John, the priest Demetrios (responsible for building Baldwin ii’s Saint George church), possibly the author (Baldwin ii’s undersecretary Nikephoros/ Nikephoritzes?) of the Zonarae lexicon. The close links of the imperial court with the Franciscans (provincial Benedict of Arezzo), who probably commissioned the fresco cycle in the Kalenderhane Camii, and the Dominicans (the Contra Graecos treatise), and the metal work and architectural enterprises linked to the Latin emperors should also be recalled in this context. The imperial network appears to have spanned a large part of the milieus engaging in intellectual and/or artistic activities, an element of continuity with the pre1204 period. The history of Constantinople in the years 1204–1261 was without doubt characterized by a measure of political and cultural contraction and loss of economic centrality, in particular from the 1220s on after the Latin empire 1 Theodore Doukas Laskaris, Epistulae ccxvii, n° 5, 8, v13–16 (“I cannot exclude in any case that philosophy will leave us, because even though she belongs to the Hellenes, she is disregarded by them today. She will be loyal to the barbarians and bring them fame.”—translation adopted from Ekaterini Mitsiou, “The Byzantines and the ‘others’: between ‘transculturality’ and discrimination,” in Christian Gastgeber and Falko Daim, eds., Byzantium as Bridge between West and East: Proceedings of the International Conference, Vienna, 3rd-5th May 2012 (Vienna, 2015), 70.

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lost its position of aspiring hegemon within the Byzantine space. Nevertheless, successive Latin emperors strove to maintain its ideological status as the imperial city par excellence, in this sense always remaining a component to be reckoned with. As other authors have demonstrated, its economy soon after the conquest of 1204 was reactivated and partly reoriented. The city reinvented itself as a workshop where—amidst conflict and tension—Latins and Byzantines could cooperate and interact in various ways (government, economy, religion, culture), resulting in a partial blurring of identities and allegiances. Apart from pragmatic and materialistic considerations, the foundation of this transcultural openness and cooperation may have been the realization that both parties had more in common than previously assumed. This point was in any case stressed later by for example Demetrios Kydenos (†1398), mesazon (or chief minister) under several Paleologan emperors in the 14th century, with his emphasis on a shared Roman identity, a fundamental ecclesiastical unity, strong traditions uniting both cultures, and earlier collaboration.2 The LatinByzantine Constantinopolitan experiment however came to a halt when almost accidently, after many full-scale sieges had repeatedly failed, the Nicaean general Alexios Strategopoulos with a small force managed to seize the Queen of Cities in a nightly guerilla attack. Conclusively the question may be asked how this pre-1261 experiment relates to the well-known interest in Latin culture attested among a segment of the Byzantine intellectual elite in the early Paleologan period, with scholars such as Manuel Holobolos (circa 1245–1310/14), George Pachymeres (1242–circa 1310), Maximos Planudes (circa 1255–1305/10), and the so-called Paleologan renaissance in general.3 Such a link has previously never has been made, no doubt because until now intellectual and artistic life under Latin rule hardly has been studied and was supposed to be virtually non-existent. It does not seem implausible to tentatively suppose such a connection, although of course other factors certainly played a role as well, such as—with regard to the new 2 Judith Ryder, “Byzantium and the West in the 1360’s: The Kydones Version,” in Jonathan Harris, Catherine Holmes, and Eugenia Russel, eds., Byzantines, Latins, and Turks in the Eastern Mediterranean World After 1150, Oxford Studies in Byzantium (Oxford, 2012), 351–354. Idem, “Demetrius Kydones’ ‘History of the Crusades’: Reality or Rhetoric?,” in Nikolaos G. Chrissis and Mike Carr, eds., Contact and Conflict in Frankish Greece and the Aegean, 12041453. Crusades—Subsidia 5 (Aldershot, 2014), 97–114. 3 See, for example, the fundamental introductory article: Wolfgang O. Schmitt, “Lateinische Literatur in Byzanz. Die Übersetzungen des Maximos Planudes und die moderne Forschung,” Jahrbuch der Österreichischen Byzantinistik 17 (1968), 127–148. See also Mitsiou, “Die Netzwerke einer kulturellen Begegnung,” 344–348; Fisher, “Manuel Holobolos and the Role of Bilinguals in Relations Between the West and Byzantium,” 210–216; idem, “Homo Byzantinus and Homo Italicus in Late 13th-century Constantinople,” 63–82.

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Byzantine interest in Latin culture—the debate on ecclesiastical union in the lead-up to and aftermath of the Second Council of Lyons in 1274. Individuals as, for example, Baldwin ii’s hupogrammateis Nikephoros/Nikephoritzes and Maximos Aloubardes, who both after 1261 entered the service of Emperor Michael viii, provided a tangible link between the Latin imperial and Paleologan courts. There may have been others in the artistic sphere. To be sure, all of these matters are outside the scope of this book and deserve further study.

Part 3 Appendixes

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Appendix 1

Astrological Poem (Versified Introduction to the Anonymous Introductoire d’Astronomie) (f. 3ra) [D]ex qui fist toutes creatures Qui ordena que lor natures Fusent prises del firmament De lui et de son movement 5 Et des estoiles qu’il i mist Dont chascune par ordre gist Et des planetes qui enz corent Qui touz tems errent et laborent Por sostenir toutes les choses 10 Qui el firmament sunt encloses Changent et muent par raison Les .iiii. tems et la saison Et corent en bas et en haut Or font le froit, or font le chaut 15 Or s’entre encontrent, or se jognent Or se dessoivrent, or s’eslognent Or sunt tardives, or se hastent Or destruient choses et gastent Or les croissent et monteplient 20 Or donent bien, or contredient, Or font pluies, ore font venz, Or font tonnairres, or tormenz Or metent amont, ore aval Quantque nos avons bien et mal 25 Par la vertu que Dex i mist Quant le monde ordena et fist Lors fist il home raisonable

* Edited after the sole known manuscript (late 13th century): BnF, fr. 1353, f. 3ra–f. 4rb. For an extensive discussion of authorship, aim, date, manucript tradition and edition history, see Chapter 1. In the following footnotes I provide a concise historical commentary with references to the preceding chapters. For an astronomical/astrological commentary, see Maxime Préaud’s edition.

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Quant l’arme i mist qui est durable Et non pas touz jorz o le cors Quar Dex volt qu’ele en eissist hors Et por ce que hom raison a Dex sapience li dona Par quoi ces choses enqueist Et encerchast et apreist A conoistre son creator Par le monde et par son ator De lonc tens et de antiquité Fu enquise la verité Coment li firmamenz menoit Ces choses ça jusque l’en voit Par ceaus qui vivoient lonc tens A cui touz jors croissoit li sens Lonc tens i mistrent grant entente Et en viellece et en jovente En ce ot tout son tens aloé Yonites, li filz Noé1 (f. 3rb) Li meins nez de touz ses enfanz Puis que li deluges fu granz Et que Noé del arche eissi Ot il ce filz qui ot nom eissi Cist trova le art de astronomie Et i usa toute sa vie Nemroth2 le jaiant en fist sage Et fu forz rois de grant outrage Venierres fu, moult sot de guerre Et regna premeriens sour terre Tharez, li peres Abrahan3 Ot puis en ceste art grant ahan Et meint autre sage home après

1 Yonites (or Ionitus/Jonithes in other sources) is a son of the Old Testament patriarch Noah. In the Bible he is however not mentioned among Noah’s sons. For our author’s probable source on Yonites, see Chapter 1, p. 18. 2 Nimrod according to the Bible was the son of Cush, who was himself a great-grandson of Old Testament patriarch Noah. His portrayal as a giant stems from extrabiblical sources. See Chapter 1, p. 18. 3 Terah is named in the Bible as the father of patriarch Abraham.

Astrological Poem

60 Qui moult regardoient de près Le cours del Soloil, de la Lune Et des estoiles une et une Et coment les choses chanjoient Selonc le cours qu’eles coroient 65 Après en escristrent meint livre Meint autre qui erent delivre De touz les pensers terriens Ne ne pensoient nule riens Fors enquerre philosophie 70 Et ceste parfonde clergie Mes ore dure poi l’arme et cors Et por ce est perduz li tresors Que Dex nos dona si tres grant Que nule chose ne valt tant 75 Or, argent, pierres precioses De lor valor est tout oisoses Quar el mont ne valt nul avoir Autant come sens et savoir Mes li sens moult petit nos valt 80 Quar quant li sens vient li cors faut Et ce que nos avons prochienes Au cuer les cures terrianes Et pensons a l’avoir de terre Ne nos lesse le tresor querre 85 Que Dex nos envoia des cels Par quoi li hom qui est mortels Se il a droit entendement Puet vivre perdurablement Se il a Deu qui le forma 90 De cui l’ymage et la forme a Puet rendre l’arme nete et pure Si cum l’enseigne l’escriture (f. 3rc) Et uncore assez de ceaus sunt Qui lor cuer et lor entente ont 95 A savoir de meinte science Por ateindre a la sapience Et estre parfaiz en clergie Mes n’i poent ateindre mie Quar li cors nel puet endurer

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220 100 Ne vie de home tant durer Mes assez sunt et sage et preu Et bien tienent partout lor leu Mes ne puet pas tout a consivre L’arme el cors qui ne est pas delivre 105 Quar ele a au corps batalle Si covient que aucune foiz falle Quar cil qui s’est es arz lassez Dom il set de plusors assez Geometrie, arismetike 110 Gramaire, logike et musike Quant il vient a l’astronomie N’i soffiroit toute sa vie Se il i entendoit dès enfance Mes de mellors clers senz dotance 115 Qui soient ore coneu Avons nos de cest art veu O l’en pooit meins sens aprendre Et bien savoient raison rendre De meinte question parfonde 120 Et des estoiles et del monde Coment il tornaie et coment Vont li planete el firmament Coment corent par chascun signe Liquel vont droit par une ligne 125 Liquel vont tost, liquel sejornent Liquel vont tort, liquel retornent Et conoissent les bons del mals Quant il annuncent voir ou faus Quant li planete sunt en leu 130 Dunt la besogne viegne a preu En signe ferm ou en movable Sevent si la chose est estable El signe ferm ou en le oblike Conoissent par arismetike 135 S’ele ira ordeneement Del planete sevent si il ment Quant il le voient retrograde Et fait lors bien del sain malade (f. 3va) Et la besogne desavance

Appendix 1

Astrological Poem

140 Et oste la bone esperance Et quant il vait son droit chemin Met la besogne a bone fin Se bons planetes le reçoit Qui en bon leu del cercle soit 145 Et quant il s’esmuet a delivre Por la bon planete a consivre El li mals planetes l’ataint Adonques le sormonte et veint Si que le bien qu’il cuidoit faire 150 Li tolt cil qui est de mal aire Et autresit quant li mals vait Faire mal li bons l’en retrait Quant il se assemble a lui et joint Einsit sunt regardé li point 155 Et regardent autre segré Se il a ferme estoile el degré Ou il est, qui ce qu’il velt faire Li tolle par son mal afaire Et gardent se il est en tele part 160 Que li Solauz le brulle et art Quar lors est moult afebloiez Et del bien faire desvoiez Puis regardent en quele meson Il doit meauz valoir par raison 165 Ou en l’angle, ou en succedent Ou se il est en meson cheant Quar li angle si sunt plus fort La succedenz vient a bon port La cheanz note meins de bien 170 La ne valt li planetes rien Si li leus del cercle l’empire Lors est plus mals que ne puis dire Et de la Lune et del Soloil Regarderont bien quel acoil 175 Et quel regard il s’entrefont Si li uns et li autres sunt Contraire ou se il sunt en lor cas Quar tout i ce ne aide pas A nul bon planete qui soit

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222 180 Quant li planetes nel reçoit Et est en son cas ou contraires Lors torne a mal touz li afaires Mes se il sunt en exaucement Et s’entre esgardent bonement 185 (f. 3vb) De tierz ou de sextil regart Donc funt il bien ou tost ou tart Selonc que li signe le dient Qui tost ou tart le segnefient Einsit encerchent li bon mestre 190 Des planetes le cours et le estre Et covient bien savoir les tables Por savoir les leus covenables La ou il voient arriver Les planetes a le aiver 195 Quar a ce doit metre grant peine Li bons mestres qui bien se peine Que primes son tacuin face Par quoi set le terme, la face L’exaucement et la meison 200 La triplicité par reison Des planetes ou il demorent Et par lesquels degrez i corent Par quoi il sevent dont ce avient Que a chascun planete apartient 205 Quar se l’en demande de enfant Ou de home ou de fame vivant De sa fortune ou de sa vie En le astrelabe ne faut mie Se il est bons astrologiens 210 Que tout ne voie, mals et biens Quar tant tost prent le point et l’hore Del signe ascendent senz demore Quant il a le ascendent trové Et le degré montant prové 215 Et fait .xii. mesons des signes Li planetes qui est plus dignes De face, de triplicité De terme et d’autre dignité Que l’en nome exaltation

Appendix 1

Astrological Poem

220 En le hore de la question Quant il a en le ascendent part Bone meson et bon regart De bon planete et receuz N’est pas li maistres deceuz 225 Del bon estat et de la vie Que toute verité n’en die Mes se il velt après savoir De la richece ou del avoir Droit a la seconde se avance 230 Laquele est meson de substance (f. 3vc) Et par les planetes saura Se richeces ne avoir aura La tierce meson li dira Des freres coment en ira 235 Des cosins, des amis prochiens Se il en vendra ou mals ou biens La quarte de père ou de mère Se la fortune en iert amère De heritages, de chams, de terre 240 Se il en porra auques conquerre La quinte meson est de filz Se il en aura joie ou perilz Se il en solaz, en luxure En estrumenz metra sa cure 245 La .vi.me est de maladie Se il en aura moult en sa vie De sers, de bestes dunt l’en use Et de vils genz que l’en refuse La .vii.me est de mariage 250 S’il i aura prou ou domage De fames, de naves, de pertes Et de terres qu’en fait desertes La .viii.me est de mort De occision, de injure et tort 255 Et de choses qui de morz vienent Et qui a tristece apartienent La .ix.me est de longue voie Se l’en aura duel ou joie Et se l’en la porra parfaire

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224 260 Senz avoir ennui et contraire La .x.me a princes et rois Qui funt justices et font lois En lor reaumes, en lor terres Et funt sovent et pais et guerres 265 Et conquierent les segnories Dont meint home perdent les vies La .xi.me est meson de fortune Si bons planetes et la Lune Ilueques en bon signe corent 270 Amis l’exaucent et le hennorent La .xii.me est meson de plor Et de tristece et de paor De malfaitors, de traison Et de anemis et de prison 275 Icist sunt les .xii. manoirs Ou li planete ont lor pooirs (f. 4ra) Dont chascuns a .ii. aditees Qui proprement li sunt donees Fors soul le Soloil et la Lune 280 Dont chascuns de eaus n’en a qu’une Saturnus qui les biens destorne A l’Aquaire et le Capricorne Jupiter qui mal ne set faire A Pisces et le Sagittaire 285 Mars a de male estration Le Mouton et l’Escorpion Venus qui velt en joie vivre Si a le Torel et la Livre Mercurius qui est isneaus 290 Si a la Virge et les Gemeaus La Lune el Cancre a mansion Et li Solauz l’a el Lion. Et chascuns de eaus a ses deporz En sa meson et est plus forz 295 El ternaire et en l’exaucement En la face, el terme ensement Li Lions et li Sagittaires Li Moutons, cist premiers ternaires Est chauz et sès, orientals

Appendix 1

Astrological Poem

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300 Li Capricornes, li Toreaus La Virge, cist sont froiz et sès Vers midi, l’un de l’autre prés. Li Gemel, Aquaires, la Livre Sunt chaut et moete, bon por vivre 305 Vers occident est cist ternaires A celui de midi contraires Les Poissons et l’Escorpion Le Cancre a septemtrion Moete et froit d’une qualité 310 Por ce sunt dit triplicité Mes de ce ne m’estuet plus dire Quar bien ai traitié la matire En cest livre,4 et tout l’errement Des signes et del firmament 315 Des planetes et de lor cours Et lor natures et lor tours Lor regarz et lor aliances Par quoi il font les demostrances Des choses cum eles avienent 320 Qui de lor natures nos vienent Et cil qui bien les cerchera La certeineté trovera (f. 4rb) Par quoi l’en le tendra por sage Se oveques le art met grant usage 325 Quar por neient lira la letre Si grant entente n’i velt metre A savoir del tems la nature Par quoi saura se il met cure Des choses qui ça desouz sunt 330 Coment changent et coment vont Si cum cil le nos ont apris Qui de cest art orent le pris De tels furent .iii. esleu Sage del art et bien creu 335 Qui meinz livres orent cerchiez N’orent pas le cors reverchiez 4 Verses 311–313 clearly show that the present poem was explicitly written as an introduction to the prose Introductoire d’Astronomie. See also Chapter 1.

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350

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360

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Appendix 1

Des anz, ne le cenz en cedive Quar del plus haut segnor qui vive5 Virent en la nativité Tretout le estre et la verité De sa fortune et de sa vie Coment iroit sa segnorie Tant cum el siecle regnera Tout virent quant qu’il en sera Et que nul de plus haut lignage Ne meauz emparlé ne plus sage6 Ne troveroit l’en a son tens A pou d’avoir par son grant sens En grant ennui et en grant guerre En grant estroiceté de terre7 Le meintendroit longuement Dex Si qu’il ne seroit hom mortex Qui de lui ne se mervellast Quar ausit cum se il s’esvellast Resordroit il et ses empires Et bien parroit li plus granz sires Qui en son tens fust nez de fame Virent qu’il auroit une dame8 Que l’en li donroit a compagne Estroite des hauz rois d’Espagne, Tres bele, tres chaste et tres bone Endui porteroient corone Et en une hore et en un point Sacré seroient et enoint9 Et auroient assez detroice Et povreté en lor joesnece Mes par .i. fil10 que il auroient

5 The plus haut segnor qui vive in question is Latin emperor Baldwin ii of Courtenay (1240– 1273). See also Appendix 2 and my discussion in Chapter 1. 6 On the attribution of these qualities to Emperor Baldwin, see my discussion in Chapter 5. 7 On the Latin empire’s difficult geopolitical situation during Baldwin ii’s reign, see Chapter 4. 8 The dame in question is Mary of Brienne, daughter of king of Jerusalem (1211–1225) and Latin emperor (1229/1231–circa 1237) John of Brienne and his wife Berengaria, daughter of the king of Leon and Galicia Alfonso ix (1188–1230) and Berengaria of Castile. See also Chapter 4. 9 On Baldwin and Mary’s coronation(s), see my discussion in Chapters 2 and 3. 10 The son reffered to is Philip of Courtenay, who succeeded Baldwin as (titular) emperor (1273–1283). See also Chapter 4.

Astrological Poem

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375

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Rescous de povreté seroient (f. 4rc) Que uns sires11 moult i aideroit Qui de lor parentez seroit Mais ainçois iroit secors querre Cil sires loing hors de sa terre .ii. foiz iroit et revendroit Mes petit secors i prendroit12 Ainçois iroit moult a declin Mes la dame iroit en la fin13 Il remaindroit en sa cité Ou il auroit grant povreté14 Et granz guerres et granz perilz Par quoi seroit mis horz li filz15 Tendres et de petit eage Et feroient moult lonc estage La dame es parties de France16 Et li enfès toute s’enfance Seroit de marcheanz tenuz,17 Tant que li tens seroit venuz Que cil que je vos dis devant Feroit a soi venir l’enfant Et tant lor donroit mars et livres Que li enfès seroit delivres Et recevroit de cel segnor De chevalerie le hennor18 Moult li aideroit bons eurs Quar puis seroit preuz et seurs

11 The sires in question should be identified with King Alfonso x of Castile (1258–1270). See also Chapter 4 for a discussion of Baldwin ii’s relationship with Alfonso x. 12 This passage clearly refers to Baldwin ii’s two extensive Western voyages in the years 1236–1240 and 1245–1248, which he undertook to recruit financial and military aid for his ailing empire. On these efforts see also Chapter 4. 13 Mary of Brienne left Constantinople in 1248 for the West, where she administered Baldwin ii’s ancestral possessions (inter alia the county of Namur) and served the empire’s interests with various diplomatic activities. See also Chapter 4. 14 On the emphasis on Baldwin ii’s poverty, see my discussion in Chapter 2. 15 On Philip of Courtenay’s prolonged stay in Venice, mortgaged to a number of Venetian merchants, see Chapter 4. 16 See note 13. 17 See note 15. 18 Alfonso x knighted Philip of Courtenay in late 1259 or in 1260. See my discussion in Chapter 1.

Appendix 2

Horoscope of Baldwin ii of Courtenay [1] (f. 101ra) Ou nom de nostre segnor Jhesucrist en l’an de sa incarnation .m.cc. xviii., trespassez .m.cc.xvii. et parfaiz, el .xviii.me an et el .xx.me jor del mois de decembre, après la .x.me hore de midi, c’est en la .iiii.te hore de la nuit, fu ascendenz li quinz degrez de la Virge, et li sires del ascendent, ce est Mercurius, estoit en la quinte meson, dont Mercurius avoit sa joie et son exaucement en le ascendent.1 Quar si exaucemenz est el quinzieme degré de la Virge, et la Lune iert oveques lui en la .v.te meson, et li Solauz autresi el quint degré, et la Lune el .xxiii.me degré et la Coe el .xix.me, et ce fu el Capricorne, dont nos jugeons que cist granz sires qui lors nasqui aura bien et joie premierement par son fil.2 Quar li Solauz, qui iert en la .v.te meson qui est meson de filz, liquels Solauz, si cum il est exauciez el Mouton, et li est contraires, einsit chiet sa contrarieté en la Livre, laquele est partie de sa fortune, et la Livre est signe masculins et mostre son premier exaucement par le fil. Et li Solauz qui est de nuiz femele demostre le devant dit fil qu’il sera relevez par une tres noble fame qui sera nee devers Occident, et droitemenz li Occidenz est o le Occident, quar li Solauz, qui est de nuiz feminins, est joinz o le signe de la Livre, qui est occidentals.3 Et la chiet de sa contrarieté, quar la contrarietez del Soloil et de la Lune debotent le fil hors de son estage et de sa meson. [2] Mais li Solauz desoivre de lui par s’ardor la Lune et Martem, jasoit ce que Mars tiegne la lance en la .iiii.te meson et Saturnes l’espee en la .iii.ce. Dont Saturnus creint Martem por la lance et ambedui Saturnes et Mars creinient le

* Edited after the sole known manuscript (late 13th century): BnF, fr. 1353, f. 101ra–f. 102vb. For an extensive discussion of authorship, aim, date, manucript tradition and edition history, see Chapter 1. In the following footnotes I provide a concise historical commentary with references to the preceding chapters. For an astronomical/astrological commentary, see Maxime Préaud’s edition. 1 The mentioned date of birth corresponds with 20 December 1217. 2 The granz sires in question is Latin emperor Baldwin ii of Courtenay (1240–1273). The son reffered to is Philip of Courtenay, who succeeded Baldwin as (titular) emperor (1273–1283). See also Chapter 4. 3 The tres noble fame in question is Latin emperor John of Brienne’s (1229/1231–circa 1237) daughter Mary of Brienne, who was both Baldwin ii’s wife and Philip’s mother. See also Chapter 4.

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Soloil en la .v.te. Dont ce que est esparpellié et degasté par Saturne en la .iii.ce meson, et par Martem en la .iiii.te, c’est a dire li ami en la tierce qui por l’espee en la .iii.ce, ce est por la batalle que il creinient qui lor estoit apparrissanz, et les possessions del empire qui sunt toloites par la lance de Mars (f. 101rb), ce est par les batalles qui apparroient si forz par quoi li ami ne li aident mie.4 Par quoi la povreté li court sus. Et Saturnes, ce sunt li ami qui sunt en la tierce meson, se taisent. Li Solauz qui veint les .ii., ce est Mars et Saturnes, o toute sa contrarieté chiet en la Livre et se souzmet au fil en la Livre qui est partie de sa fortune, par lequel fil et par laquele Livre la peccune et la monoie qui a esté accreue et emprentee en la povreté doit estre solse. [3] El li Solauz donoit a cel segnor grant richeces, lesqueles la Lune et la Coe, qui estoient en cele meesmes meson, les esparpelloient et gastoient. Mais Mercurius, qui estoit amis del Soloil, li aident en deniers et en richeces et en facunde et en eloquence. Neporquant la Coe, qui estoit en la .v.te, et Mars en la .iiii.te et Saturnus en la tierce avoient force devant touz en gaster ses richeces et sa peccune. Quar li signes de l’Escorpion, qui estoit en la .iii.ce meson, qui mostre bon semblant el chief et en la coe porte le venin, est signe de aucun de ses parenz ou de cels de sa meson, et de ceaus qui li sunt tenu par fealté et par sarrement, qui ovec ses fals parenz voellent procurer sa mort.5 Et porce que li Escorpions est signe septentrionals, gart soi cist granz sires que ce ne soit fait en cele partie del an vers marz, quant li Solauz, qui li est contraires, a son exaucement el Mouton. Liquel Solauz est a la .v.te meson (de filz)6 appreins et se dort senz touz biens et est appriens de plusors anemis repouz, au meins de .iii., de Scorpion qui est aperz, de Saturne qui est plus aperz, de Sagittaire qui est tres aperz, de Scorpion de venin, de Saturne de glaive, de Sagittaire de lance ague. Li glaives aguz (repouz)7 est passez, la lance aperte remaint et li venins repouz jusques a marz. Et lors commencera a delivrer de toute povreté et de toute contrarieté. [4] Et porce que la Coe et Jupiter et Venus sunt nomper, et Venus a sa meson el Torel, et sunt en la .ix.me meson retrograde, segnefient .iiii. homes qui seront gité de la (f. 101va) compagnie de cel segnor, desquel il aura soupeçon.8 Les .ii. metra il bien hors, le tierz ne porra, ainz remeindra o lui par son veziement et tracera touz jorz savoir se il li porra nuire covertement. Et neporquant il ne li porra nuire, quar li planete per, la Lune et Venus, ne sueffrent mie o les 4 5 6 7 8

On these ami, see also §8–9 (inter alia in France and at the papal court). On the (hypothetical) identification of these falz parenz, see Chapter 3. In margin. In margin. On the (hypothetical) identification of these .iiii. homes, see Chapter 3.

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Appendix 2

planetes nompers, le Chief del Dracon, Jupiter et Venus, dont cist .iii.ez sera dessevrez ausit de lui. Et s’en istra confus del exaucement de cel segnor, (lequel)9 il cuidoit vendre a autre segnor com degeté et envenimé. Neporquant, par le otroi de Deu, la Lune et Venus, qui se concordent, meinent cel segnor en la Livre, et li Solauz et Mercurius se concordent en ce et le meinent en la Livre, qui est de meson de la partie de la fortune de cel segnor, quar il sunt ami li uns vers l’autre. [5] Et si devez bien noter ce que en la .v.te meson de filz furent trové .iii. planetes, et la Coe fu la quarte, quar li Solauz, qui estoit la nuit .ii. foiz female, demostroit que, après le [fi]l devoit avoir cil grant sires prochienement une fille, laquele ne devoit mie vivre longuement, por la Coe del Dracon qui estoit en cele meesmes .v.te meson.10 Et uncore en aura une autre por le Soloil cheant en la Livre, et cele fille vivra.11 Et porce que la Lune est masles en cele meesmes .v.te meson, demostre que cil sires aura uncore .i. autre fil qui sera contraires a touz mercheanz por la hautesce de son lignage et s’esforcera dels hors bouter que il ne habitent o lui en une cité.12 Il edefiera chasteaus ou il habitera et ne mie citez, et sera touz tems apparelliez a proie et sera malls et destruieres de ses anemis. [6] Après se ensuit Aquaires en la .vi.te meson, delquel Saturnes est sires par nature, mes par accident est Venus en cele meson. Ceste est la .vi.te meson de enfermeté, cheent del ascendent, dont il estoit a avenir a cil segnor que après autres maladies colerikes, por le Sagittaire qui est signes de feu, liquels, jasoit ce que (f. 101vb) Saturnes soit en la .iiii.te et li Escorpions en la tierce, neporquant, porce que li feus est plus legiers de touz les elemenz, se avenca ainz lo eure de Saturne et fist premierement maladies colerikes, dont les escorcheures del cuir et les taches li vienent por les taches del Escorpion et la chalor del Sagittaire. Et après Saturnus, qui est en la .iii.ce meson, qui est froiz et sès, foldroie en Aquaire qui est sa propre meson, qui est .iiii.te de lui et .vi.me et cheanz del ascendent en cele meson qui est .iiii.te de lui, li done maladie quartaine de quart en quart por la froidure et la secheresce, et la doble porce qu’il a Martem

9 10 11 12

In margin. No other source informs us about this daughter of Baldwin ii, who apparently died when still very young. This daughter may be identified with the Catherina, who is mentioned as Baldwin ii’s daughter in the Sicilian Angevin registers in the years 1267–1278. See also Chapter 3, p. 74. No other source explicitly informs us about this second son of Baldwin ii, though Philip called himself primogenitus in a 1269 charter, which suggests that he did have a brother. See also Chapter 3, p. 74.

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compagnon en la .iiii.te. Quar Saturnus et Mars, quant il sunt ami, s’entre aident en prosperitez et en aversitez. [7] Neporquant Mars li done une quartaine bastarde, Saturnus veraie, l’une mue les hores del accession, l’autre non, et ce avient entor le .xxxv.me an de cel segnor, quar a Saturne sunt doné .xxx. an et ad Venus en deussent estre doné .viii. en la meson de maladie.13 Mes ele segnefie eissue de la maladie et ele requiert del .v. signe second de lui .i. an, et de Lune qui est en cel quint signe .i. autre an, et de Mercurio qui est en cele meesmes .v.te meson .i. an, et li Solauz qui est en cele meesmes .v.te meson li aide. Quar li Solauz et Venus sunt ami quant il ne sunt mie en .i. signe, et einsit Venus, qui est contraire ad Mercurium, delivre cel segnor qui devroit estre malades entor le .xxxv.me an de .ii. quartaines, et morir par droit si Venus ne l’asoajast et respassast. Et donques se hast Venus de aler a la Livre qui est sa propre meson par nature, et por ce salve ce grant segnor en la Livre, que la Livre est partie de sa fortune, et je di bien partie, quar cum Venus deust estre sa fortune enterine, li est faite de fortune partie por les planetes et les leus contraires, quar ostez .iii. de .xxxviii., lesquels Venus en la .vi.me meson doit avoir si cum il est prové desus par arismetike et par geometrie et par astro—(f. 102ra) logie, li en remainent .v. et .xxxx. de Saturne, et einsit font le .xxxv.me an de sa maladie. [8] Et porce que li oirres de Venus est lons de la .vi.me jusques a la .ix.me, laquele segnefie lonc viager, devoit avenir a cel grant segnor, qu’il feroit moultes longues voies, et Venus qui estoit loigtiene et estrange de sa meson envoiet cel segnor en estranges terres.14 Neporquant en la gregnor partie il troeve segnors et granz homes qui li sunt alié par lignage, dont a la parfin Venus, qui vient après la longue voie en la .ix.me meson, trueve ilueques le Torel qui est sa propre mesons et li est aditee, et autresit cist granz sires qui est en viage de la .ix.me meson trove en meinz leus de son veage parenz de cui la mesons li est ausit cum la soe propre. [9] Neporquant li Toreaus ou Jupiter est retrogrades, done a cele segnor pou de aide de sez amis et ses granz viages li est autresit cum neient profitables. Et jasoit ce que je sache bien raconter par la proprieté des signes les leus par ou il devoit aler, nequident je m’en trespasse briefment que il ne ennuit a celui qui cest escrit lira. Neporquant la mesons de Gemeaus, qui est .x.me, demostroit qui li viages de cel segnor seroit vers France qui est en la partie de Occident, 13 14

No other source informs us about this illness. Baldwin ii was 35 years old around the year 1252. See also note 1. This passage clearly refers to Baldwin ii’s extensive travels inter alia in the years 1236–1240 and 1245–1248. During these voyages he visited, among other places, the papal court, the imperial court of Frederick ii of Hohenstaufen, the royal courts of France and England, and his ancestral home lands in the northwest (Namur, Flanders, Hainaut, etc.).

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et li Toreaus qui est retrogrades demostroit qu’il retorneroit aucune foiz vers Aquilon, et porce que l’Eglise de Rome qui est souz le Soloil et souz le signe del Torel, segnefie que cil sires devoit aler vers l’Eglise de Rome et vers Aquilon arriere, et li Toreaus qui est retrogrades en toutes choses li devee qu’il ne puet faire ce que il velt ne mener a fin. [10] Mes Jupiter qui est sires par nature de la .vii.me meson, qui est li Poissons, segnefie que cist sires doit avoir compagne et fame de tres haut lignage, et bele de face et chaste, senz luxure, quar li signes del Poissons, qui est froiz et moetes, demostre la fame chaste.15 Mes porce que la meson de cel segnor est chaude et moete, et la meson (f. 102rb) de sa fame froide et moete, ne morra li uns guieres devant l’autre.16 Si devez bien noter ce que Jupiter ne est mie trovez en sa propre meson, c’est es Poissons, mes en autre estrange et loigtiegne, c’est en la .ix.me, qui est retrograda. Quar la dame devoit aler hors de son propre siège et de sa meson por les contraires planetes qui li avoient gastees ses possessions.17 [11] Neporquant li salvemenz vient après, quar li Moutons, qui est en le .viii.me meson de mort, qui est signes orientals, annunce salu et sauvement a cel grant segnor par la mort de .i. grant home qui est vers Orient.18 Et ci commence li saluz et le exaucement del segnor et de la dame, quar ausit que li signes des Poissons, qui est moetes, se concorde au Torel ou Jupiter est, en la .ix.me meson. Et einsi doit avenir que, entrementres que la dame sera hors, sera traitié del mariage del fil qui est nez en la Livre, laquele est partie de la fortune de cest grant segnor. Et repairera la dame et li filz a son segnor, qui sera en joie et en exaucement après les .iii. anz de lor retor et metra souz pié touz ses anemis.19 [12] Nequiedent touz tems se gatient et se peinent (…)20 els garder li peres et li filz, quar li signe meridian ne tienent pas la verité que il prometent, quar il doit avenir que ambe .ii. les parties decevront et seront deceu. Nequident li 15 16

For the identification of this fame de tres haut lignage, see Appendix 1, note 8. This would turn out to be a correct prediction: Baldwin ii died around the end of the year 1273, while Mary of Brienne died around 1275. 17 Mary of Brienne left Constantinople in 1248 for the West, where she administered Baldwin ii’s ancestral possessions (inter alia the county of Namur) and served the empire’s interests with various diplomatic activities. See also Chapter 4. 18 The grant home qui est vers orient should in my view be identified with one of the Mongolian great khans, either Güyük Khan (†1248) or Möngke Khan (†1259). See also Chapter 3, note 44. 19 This passage refers to the projected marriage between Philip of Courtenay and a daughter of Alfonso x of Castile (see also notes 17 and 21). In reality Mary and Baldwin would never return to Baldwin ii in Constantinople. See also Chapter 4. 20 (…) = manuscript damaged: a few illegible letters.

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Chief del Dracon qui s’en istra o victoire et o segnorie que cist sires aura, jasoit ce que je ne voelle ore dire en conbien de tens ce sera fait et ja soit ce que je le aperçoive bien et conoisse par la vertu de Deu, en tele maniere sera que li Chiés del Dracon qui est occidentals demostre .i. grant segnor devers Occident par cui cist sires et la dame et lor filz seront relevé de lor povreté et de lor soffraite, et ce que li Poisson sunt senz lor planete qui est Jupiter, segnefie la dame qui sera lonc tems senz son segnor, et après retournera o son fil qui est nez en la Livre qui est partie de la fortune de cest grant segnor.21 [13] (f. 102va) Ici commence li chapitres qui pleinement parole del Chief del Dracon. Quar a la parfin li Chief del Dracon, qui est amis de Jupiter, liquels Jupiter est trovez en la .ix.me meson, qui est li Toreaus, jasoit ce que li Toreaus soit retrogrades, et cil Toreaus est feminins de la nature de cele haute dame, que segnefie ce autre chose fors le chief del segnor occidental que nos deismes desus, qui relieve Jovem son ami i estant en povreté, ce est a dire que il a grant compassion de la povreté de cele haute dame et li done sovraineté (…). Et porce que la .xi.me meson est meson de fortune et la seconde meson est partie de fortune, li Chiés del Dracon qui est en la .ix.me descent en avant en la meson de cel grant segnor (…) acquerre (…) de peccune (…). Et li Chiés del Dracon est el Cancre qui est signes septentrionalz, segnefie que cist sires a victoire sour ses anemis qui sunt devers Midi.22 Quar cum la terre qui est li plus durable elemenz et li plus estable veinc et sourmonte touz les autres elemens par sa durableté et par sa permenance quasi invertible et movable en regard de la terre, autresit li Chiés del Dracon, qui est sires del Cancre, liquels Chiés est de nature de terre, de ore en avant fait estable (…) et conferme l’empire de Costantinoble par cest empereor (…). [14] Li an convient (…) jasoit ce que il doivent estre selonc raison de philosophie (…) selonc le petit sen que Dex m’a doné (…). Mes ce ne devons nos mie trespasser que si cum chascuns des elemens a une qualité par nature et l’autre par accident, autresit l’empire de nostre segnor (…) touz les jours qu’il vivra aura, l’un avant, l’autre arrieres, .ii. anemis, dont nos parlasmes desus de .iiii. (f. 102vb) anemis de sa persone, liquel sunt designé ne mie solement par les .iiii. qualitez des elemenz qui segnefient plus basses choses, mes par les autres choses que nos avons desus dites.23 Mes cil estoient anemi de sa persone, cist sunt anemi del empire, dont nos volons dire et toucherons les batalles qui se esleverent en noz tems contre nostre empereor (….) et contre son empire. 21 The grant segnor devers occident should be identified with King Alfonso x of Castile (1258–1270). See also notes 17 and 19, and Chapter 4. 22 On these anemis qui sunt devers midi, see also §15. 23 On these .iiii. anemis de sa persone, see also §3–4.

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Donques, jasoit ce que aucun veullent segnefier les .iiii. devant diz bas homes par les .iiii. planetes contraires qui estoient en la .v.te meson si cum je vos ai toché desus briefment (…), neporquant par cels planetes et par lor mesons sunt plus veraiement pris li segnor des reaumes et des terres qui sunt contraires a nostre empereor et a son empire. [15] El commencement, ce que devoit estre de la triplicité de nostre empereor est trové que il li fu contraire. Quar li Toreaus, la Virge, li Capricornes sunt de sa triplicité, qui sunt signe feminin et nocturne, froit et sec, de nature de terre, melancolike et aigre savor, et sunt meridian. De laquele triplicité sunt segnor Venus de jorz et la Lune de nuiz. Mars est lor parcoru (…) de (…). Cist Toreaus, qui estoit compaing de nostre ascendent, c’est de la Virge, nos est faiz retrogrades en la .ix.me meson, laquele est compagne en tems de la meson de enmi le ciel, c’est de la x.me, vers Midi. Et porce qu’il est faiz retrogrades a nostre segnor il segnefie le anemi devers Midi tres fort, ce est la segnorie que Vataches tenoit en cele partie de Midi, et se il ne fust en cele partie retrogrades il eust eu toute sa segnorie de la terre nostre segnor.24 Cist est premiers anemis, a cui jasoit ce que li Toreaus li oiraiast la segnorie par accident, neporquant il la nos donoit a nostre segnore par nature, quar il estoit de la triplicité del ascendent de nostre segnor, quar il estoit de une nature o le signe de la Virge qui estoit ascendenz de nostre tres haut segnor, et jasoit ce que li Toreaus fust alez en meson estrange en (…).25 24 25

Vataches is to be identified with Nicaean emperor John iii Vatatzes (1221–1254). His immediate successors in Nicaea were Theodore ii Laskaris (1254–1258) and Michael viii Paleologos (1259–1282), who in 1261 conquered Constantinople. Here our sole mansucript breaks off.

Appendix 3

Introductoire d’Astronomie: Selected Chapters

…

Fragment 1: Chapter 1



Ch’est .i. introductoires d’astronomie que .i. philosophes traita pour .i. empereor de Romme et contient .2. livres1 (A Defense of Astrology in the Vernacular) [1] (f. 7ra) Por ce que la science de astronomie, la quele entre les .vii. arz liberals est une des principals et a cui li plus des autres servent et administrent, est por ville et por neient tenue de aucunes genz qui ont l’entendement si gros et si pesant des terrianes choses ou il s’aerdent que il ne poent rien entendre des devines ne des cors ne des creatures celestiaus neis les sensibles choses et ce que l’en voit as eauz, ne poent il aparcevoir si qu’il ne poent entendre le ordenement des natures que Dex a fait en ses creatures. Me est pris talenz de espondre en romanz aucuns des secrez de astronomie si cum li philosophe et li autour en traiterent ça en arriere, qui estoient delivré des terriens pensers et tote lor entente metoient en enquerre la verité de tote philosophie. Et por ce que je auré assez detraeors et envious en ceste oevre, la quele je ne faz mie por les rudes ne por cels qui ont l’entendement gros, mes por cels qui jasoit ce qu’il ne soient fondé de parfonde clergie, il ont neporquant l’entendement soutil, pri gie que ceste oevre ne soit balliee commune ne abandonee a touz, mes a cels solement qui ont bon entendement et soutil engin. [2] Et voel premierement commencier des paroles que Ptholomeus met el prologue de son livre qui est apelez Almageste qui einsi commencent: Dex, li

* This text has been preserved in two manuscripts: BnF, fr. 1353 (f. 5r–f. 66r) and BnF, fr. 613 (f. 87r–f. 133r). The former is the earliest (late 13th century)—and without question best— manuscript and has been used as the basis for this partial edition. Contentual variants are reproduced in the footnotes. For an extensive discussion of authorship, aim, date, manucript tradition and edition history, see Chapter 1. In the following footnotes I provide a concise commentary relating to the elements and themes discussed in the preceding chapters. For a more comprehensive astronomical/astrological commentary, see Stephen Dörr’s partial edition. 1 This title only appears in the second manuscript (early 14th century): BnF, fr. 613, f. 87r.

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, ���8 | doi:10.1163/9789004383180_013

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faisieres del monde, vit le ordre de descendre en totes choses del tres haut, ce est de lui meismes a ses sovraines creatures et as sovrains cors et des sovrains cors as choses et as creatures de ca desouz. Et por ce volt et ordena que sa volentez descendist premierement de lui as cors et as creatures celestiaus et d’ilueques as choses ça desouz, por la quele chose il balla par devin consuel toute la (f. 7rb) region de la terre a l’arbitre del ciel et si cum li peres qui avoit et a pitié de ses creatures, il balla et commist toutes le terrianes choses et lor fortunes a la foi et a la porveance des creatures et des cors celestiaus. Quar li maitres ovriers de toutes choses, qui avoit en l’oevre del ciel dignement et devinement laboré, volt que devant totes les autres choses de ça desouz, einsi cum il avoit etabli, le ciel el plus haut eust privilege et dignité sour totes les choses terrianes. Et por ce, il li dona le don de tote beauté et li dona poessance et vertu, por ce que il devoit estre uns governierres par desoz totes les choses souzgietes. Il li dona movement raisonable. Il li dona vertu de lumieres et li commist les natures et le muement des choses de ca desouz, autresi comme a un governeour de sa volenté, por ce que nule chose ne defausist en si grant ovrage cum est la machines, ce est la facons del monde, por la quele raison les fortunes des choses mortels sunt diversefiees par l’aministrement del ciel. La quele chose chascuns poet vooir et conoistre quar la raison de nostre vie et de nostre croissement est iluecqes establie et fermee del tout en tout, quar si cum dist Termegistres nos disons que la vie des choses de cest monde apartient a Soloil et li norrissemenz des cors apartient a la Lune. [3] Et ce meesmes enseigne la sentence de Platon qui dit que li sages fortunieres des choses vit que les unes choses devoient par lui estre criees et les autres eissir des autres. Et toutes les choses estoient loing de parfection fors tant cum eles poaient eissir de la loi de corruption et soi accompagnier as choses sovraines. Donques cum il laissast home en terre por achoison de lui, a cui conoissance il devoit repairier comme a son commencement, et le eust faist de doble maniere de substance, quar ce que nos somes nos somes une partie del ciel et autre de la terre, quar Dex hennora et sozhauca le cors de l’arme celestial qui est conformez a celestials choses et por ce establi qu’il fust menez et aidiez par .i. affect, ce est par un talent qui est affins de l’une et de l’autre clestial chose, ce est de l’arme et del ciel a autre chose, ce est a la connoissance de son commencement. Après un pou dist Platons que ceste fu unes des principals ententions del criator si cum nostre entendemenz concoit et poet comprendre que premierement homs coneust les unes choses par l’affinité qu’il avoit a eaus et après par acuisement de engin et par sollicitude coneust les autres, par quoi il se eslevast et soutillast a conoistre le commencement de totes choses. [4] Et einsi parvint a ce que li home, quant il orent acostumé a esgarder le ciel et les estoiles et aparcurent primes la force del celestial movement et regarderent après la diverseté de l’oirre des planetes et des estoiles et virent

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que les unes se assembloient as autres en divers tems et que les unes sivoient les autres, a la foiee les comprenoient et après aconsivoient les autres et après la prise de celes sivoient les autres et aloient a eles, et virent les unes atendre les autres et retorner a eles arrieres et de rechief dessevrer les unes des autres et regarder les unes les autres proportionelment et par figure et a la foiee aler aversement les unes encontre les autres et estre en contraire leu des autres. Et virent que par tantes manieres de cours li roi de lor lumieres a la foiee se croissoient et estoient mué, a la foiee amenuisoient, a la foiee lor rais perissoient del tout en tout quant a lor veue, a la foiee reprenoient de rechief lor resplendor. Et de ces signes et de ces movemenz virent avenir les unes choses après les autres et après se chanjoient li avenement des choses cum il eussent regardé ces choses et autres, les queles par le don de Deu et par devin consuel et par la grant volenté et par la longue entente il apristrent a conoistre. [5] Tant perseverent et vellerent en la contemplation des choses que premierement virent le Soloil et la Lune, dum la conoissance fu plus legiere, et après les autres planetes, qui sunt ordené les uns souz les autres en une (f. 7vb) voie et en un sentier establi le quel il ne poent trespasser, ou il sunt posé dessembleblement entre le ciel et la terre et aparcurent qu’eles estoient maistres et governarresses par la volenté del creator de l’artifice et de l’ovraigne des tarrianes choses. Quar quant li crierres del monde, si cum il est desus dit, balla et commist la terre au ciel et vit que aucunes parties del ciel estoient loingtiegnes des habitanz de terre, toute la poissance del ciel que il dona as cors celestiaus et as estoiles es terrianes choses mist et ordena en un certain sentier, le quel sentier il ordena et mist el milieu environ la terre en obliquant par les .ii. emisperes de tele laor cum il dut estre, si que il servist a l’un costé et a l’autre de la terre. Et par l’aprochement et l’eslognement des planetes la diversetez del tems et la qualitez des elemenz et des natures des choses se variassent par certaine loi et par raison pardurablement, senz la quele loi la mortel nature ne pooit durer qu’ele ne perist. Mes de ces choses vos lairons a tant qui sunt obscures, quar tele est la nature de sapience que li fols corages la tient por neient et la despit, mais ele despit plus lui et plus l’aville.

Fragment 2: Chapter 2

Coment art et science fu trovee (A Work of Science Dedicated to Emperor Baldwin ii of Courtenay) [1] (f. 7vb) Einsit poez savoir si cum vos avez entendu desus que de plusors foiz que li hom virent et aparcurent et sentirent les natures des choses, vint de plusors veues et de plusors sens un experiment, et quant il orent espermenté plusors foiz les choses de plusors experimenz vint une memoire, et quant il orent

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plusors remembrances des choses qui avoient esté esperimentees par meintes foiz de plusors memoires vint un universel, que tint cil qui enqueroient et encerchoient la verité et sorent par experiment et par memoire de plusors sages que einsit estoit universelment cum il estoit encerchié et que ce ne pooit fallir, et cist universels fu commencement de art et de science. [2] Mais por ce que, si cum dist Ypocras el commencement de ses auforismes, la vie de l’home est briés et les arz sunt longues et li experiment sunt faillable, ne mie por ce que (f. 8ra) en eles les natures des choses ne poent fallir, mais nostre vie ne soffist mie a eles comprendre ne entendre. Et por ce est li jugemenz des natures griés, quar autresit come cil qui oevre de medecine ne poet ovrer certainement, se il ne set bien la complexion et la nature del cors ou il oevre et quel humor fait la corruption dum la maladie vient et se il ne set les choses par quoi il dot ontreter et doner remede a la maladie et quele proportion et en quele quantité il doit la choses doner qui en soi a la medecine, neporquant il avient que il aide au malade ou par fortune ou par ce que il comprent une partie de la verité, ja soit ce que il ne la compragne mie toute. Einsi avient en ceste art de astronomie. Quar cum la fins en soit a faire certains jugemens des fortunes des choses ca desouz et des natures et por quoi eles se varient, nequedent la vie de l’home ne soffist mie a comprendre touz les cours et les muemenz et les variations de celestiaus cors et des estoiles, por quoi li hom ne soffist a faire certains jugemenz des fortunes et des variations des choses qui avienent, mais totes voies selonc ce que le humaine raison poet comprendre les natures des choses li sages hom poet moultes fois aidier par la devine volenté o son soutil engin a conoistre le avenement et la variation et le changement des bones fortunes et des males. [3] Dum si cum dist Ptholomeus en son Centilogue li boens astrologiens puet moult deveer de ce qui est a avenir a le home selonc le cours des estoiles quant il set sa nature et sa complexion. Quar il garnist celui qui le mal doit avoir et soffrir si qu’il le sueffre plus legierement. Et ce veons nos que uns mals ne tient mie ivelment a .ii. homes qui ne sont d’une complexion ne d’une nature. Dum quant li sages astrologiens se doute qu’il ne viegne mal a aucun, il torne tant cum il puet sa complexion au contraire de la nature dum li mals (f. 8rb) li doit avenir, si qu’il ne lui puet si grever cum se il li venoit desporveuement. Quar quant aucuns enfès naist dum nos regardons la nativité, qui a bien atempree complexion en nos veons que aucune enfermetez li doit avenir de la nature Martis qui est chauz et sès, nos li tornerons sa complexion a froidure par diete de froides choses si que l’enfermetez, quant ele li vendra, la tornera a atemprance et autresi overra li astrologiens en ces autres planetes la ou il saura que li mals devra venir de lor nature et de lor complexion. [4] Et por ce dist Ptholomeus que li astrologiens doit avoir la science des estoiles et de soi et de eles, quar cil qui velt conoistre les choses qui sunt a

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a­ venit il li covient a ce que il ait la science aler par .ii. voies, l’une que il regart le movement et le cours des estoiles et les oevres et les fortunes qui sunt avenues par lor cours et regart les livres que li ancian escristrent de lors cours et ce que il en a veu et prové en son tems. L’autre voie si est quant aucuns a ceste science par devine inspiration et quant aucuns aura ces .ii. voies il sera entre les sages tenuz por .i. des plus sages, quar cil qui a ceste science par devine inspiration puet moult doner de verais jugemenz, dum nos ne poons trover ne les segnefiances ne les raisons ne en natures ne en oevres ne es choses qui en avienent ca desouz, mais ce que il dient lor ist des cuers par devine volenté et par devin espir. Et dit li commentierres sor le Centilogue que de tels virent il assez en lor tems, et ceste voie qui est si naite et si pure apelent li philosophe devine, et por ce dist Ptholomeus que de cels qui sunt souz le cercle de la Lune, li un ont ceste science par art et par doctrine, li autre l’ont par devine inspiration. Et cil qui aura ces .ii. voies sera tenuz por voir disanz en ses jugemenz, et se il faut a une de ces voies il ne sera mie tenuz si por sages. [5] Dum il avient, si cum je vos dis desus, que nos qui somes occupé des (f. 8va) terrianes choses ne poons mie si certainement voair ne doner verais jugemenz comme cil qui les voient et les donent par devine inspiration, por ce que la force et la vertu de l’arme raisonable et entendenz qui est aliee et acompagniee as autres forces, c’est a le ire et la concupiscence qui nos alie as terrianes et as mundaines choses, ne puet estre si delivré qu’ele voie si cler es choses qui sunt a avenir, cum font cil qui sunt delivré de la concupiscence et de la sollicitude des choses mondaines. Et por ce nos ne poons voair si apertement les choses come cil qui les voaient par devine inspiration. Et por ce dist Ptholomeus que nos conaissons les choses de la mellor partie c’est de la vertu raisonable de l’arme, et de tant comme l’arme et li esperit est plus dessevrez des choses terrianes voit il plus cler, et por ce veons nos de aucuns hermites ou de aucuns saint homes que il dient sovent les choses qui sunt a avenir, et autresi aucuns frenetikes dient moult foiz voir et devinent por ce qu’il ne sevent ou il sunt ne il ne usent mie des sens corporels, ainz usent solement de la force et de la vertu de l’arme entendable. Et autresi li angele et li esperit, si cum dit Augustins et Damascenes, second ce que la divine vertu lor en done puissance conoissent les choses qui sunt a avenir, quar autrement n’en poent rien savoir fors en tant cum il ont de la purté devine. [6] Et autresi moultes foiz en nostre dormant nos veons aucunes choses qui doivent avenir que nos veons par la pure vertu de l’ame, quant la vertus entendable est bien purefiee des grosses fumositez por ce qu’ele est lores dessevree des sollicitudes terrianes. Quar li hom quant il dort puet voair et songier en .v. manieres et por ce dist Macrobes que il sunt .v. manieres de songes, dum les .ii. sunt fauses et ne sunt fors fantasies, les .iii. sunt veritables, quar quant li hom a pensee et cure de la chose qu’il a veue le jor si en est empreinte la figure

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et la color de la chose en cele substance (f. 8vb) de air qui sert as .v. sens, c’est au voair, a le oir, au gouter, a l’oudorer, au tochier et atrait l’ame la colour et la figure de la chose qu’en a veue en se ymagination. Et por ce qu’ele ne l’oblie mie si tost, li en vient cele fantasie qu’il semble a le home, quant il dort, qu’il voaie la chose en tel figure et en tel colour cum il l’a le jor veue. L’autre maniere avient moultes foiz de la nature de la complexion de le home ou de la viande, quar quant aucunes foiz l’une des humours del cors sormonte l’autres, quant il dort selonc le hore ou le humor a sa segnorie, si semble a le home qu’il voie ymages et choses d’icele colour, quar se la cole roge est achoison il songera volentiers ymages et choses roges et se la melencolie est en cause si songera noires figures et noires choses et petites. Et se li flegmes sormonte si songera blanches ymages et blanches choses et autresi quant il a mengié et est raempliz selonc ce que la viande est colerike ou flegmatike ou de autre complexion. Selonc les diverses fumositez songe diverse choses et toutes ces manieres ne sont fors fantasies qui vienent de fumositez. [7] Or sunt autres .iii. manieres de songes qui sunt veraies. Quar aucune foiz la devine volentez mostre a celui qui est esperitels aucune chose en dormant par aucun saint ou par aucune persone qui li semble qui parolt a lui et li mostre la chose si cum ele doit avenir. Et ceste maniere apele Macrobes oracle. Aucune foiz, si cum j’ai dit desus, la vertu raisonable de l’ame, quant ele est pure, voit la chose devant soi quant li hom dort tout einsi cum ele doit avenir. Et ceste maniere est apelee visions. Aucune foiz sunt mostrees a le home les choses qui sunt a avenir par choses semblables, aucune foiz par choses contraires. Par chose semblable, si cum se aucuns songe que il saine, segnefie amenuisement de sa force ou amenuisement de amis. Par contraire, si comme se aucuns plore ou a dolour en dormant, segnefie joie. [8] Donques nos qui somes occupé des choses mondaines ja soit ce que (f. 9ra) nos ne puissons avoir les .ii. devant dites voies, se ne est par devine inspiration par quoi nos puissons faire et doner parfaiz jugemenz, neporquant a le hennor del tres haut empereor .B., par la grace de Deu tres feel en Jhesu Crist, coroné de Deu, governeor de Romanie2 et touz tems accroissant, por cui nos commencons ce livre, ce que nos avons oi et trait des livres des ancians par quoi l’en puisse venir a faire parfaiz jugemenz et certains des fortunes et des oevres que li ordenemenz et li cours des estoiles oevre ca desouz, nos vos espondrons si briefment cum nos porrons et comme tele oevre le requiert, dum la matire est si granz et si diffuse et que li ancien traiterent et mistrent en tems

2 BnF, fr. 613, f. 88v reads governement de Romains. See Chapter 2 for a discussion of the imperial title mentioned here.

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de volumes, par quoi cil qui Dex donra qu’il aura l’une voie et l’autre desus dite porra jugier certainement et estre contez entre les sages. [9] Et pri a touz cels qui cest livre liront que se il i trovent aucun defaut que il le doient pardoner a mon povre sen et a mon rude engin, et se il i trovent chose qui soit bone et digne de oïr que il le dognent a la grace de Deu de cui touz li bien et tuit li sen et les bones paroles vienent come de celui qui est vive fontaine de touz biens. Et por ce que li jugement ne poent estre fait ne doné senz savoir la nature et la complexion et la variation del cours des estoiles, si cum eles corent par le firmament, et li cours ne puet estre seuz senz ce que l’en sache le ordenement del firmament, vos commencerons nos primes en la premiere partie del livre de l’ordenement del firmament et emprès des cercles coment li philosophe le deviserent par parties et des ymages des estoiles que li philosophe ordenerent par le firmament et des signes que il deviserent el zodiake et de lor montees et des climaz que li signe ont desouz eaus et de l’alognement et de l’acorcement des jorz et des nuiz, et après des planetes et de lor natures et de lor cours et de lor proprietez et de lor diversefiances et de lor muemenz et coment li un se ont as autres et preent et donent fortunes li un des autres, et après des jugemenz qui sont faiz selonc lor diversetez.

Fragment 3: Chapter 86



Li seconds livres des planetes (Plato and Aristotle on the Movement of Planets) [1] (f. 24vb) Li planete sunt les estoiles erratikes, aucuns (f. 25ra) les apelent erratikes3 por ce que les errent par le ciel ca et la et que les ne vont mie droite voie, mais si cum dist Martians4 eles doivent meauz estre dites planontes que planetes quar ia soit ce qu’eles aient certaines lois et certains movemenz. Eles font sovent errer la humaine raison en lor movement. [2] Li planete sunt li Solauz et la Lune et li .v. autre que vos avez oi sovent nomer, Saturnus, Jupiter, Mars, Venus et Mercurius. Cist .vii. planete ne sunt mie el firmament autresi cum les autres estoiles, ainz sunt lor cercles et lor regions par desouz le firmament et lor espaces par ou il corent par desoz il firmament, li un desoz les autres tant cum li uns de lor cercles est desouz l’autre si cum 3 For example, one of our authors’ identified sources: William of Conches († circa 1150). See Guillelmus de Conchis, Philosophia, lib. 2, §3, §10. 4 The late Roman author Martianus Capella (5th century ad). See Chapter 5 for a discussion of our author’s use of Capella’s De Nuptiis Philologiae et Mercurii, an introduction into the seven artes liberales.

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vous orrez après. Si a tele difference entre les estoiles fermes et les planetes que li planete ont .i. naturel movement par quoi il vont contre le firmament et .i. accidentel qui lor vient de l’embruiement del firmament qui oveques soi les porte chascun jor environ la terre. Les estoiles fermes ne ont fors le movement que les ont de ce que les vont o le firmament. [3] Neporquant il en est .ii. opinions quar li un dient qu’eles ont autre propre movement que del firmament, li autre dient qu’eles ne ont autre movement fors del firmament o cui il sunt portees environ la terre, qu’eles sunt fichiees en une partie del firmament ne ne se poent movoir en autre partie. Mais la raison de nature vait encontre ceste opinion, quar cum eles soient de nature de feu il covient par raison qu’eles aient autre movement que del firmament, quar bien apart qu’eles sont mie fichiees el firmament cum la preciose pierre en lanel ou cum uns clous en une roe, quar li firmamenz est de si clere nature et si liquide que riens ni poet estre fichie en tele maniere. (f. 25rb) Se nos ne volions dire que la desus fussent aives gelees cum cristal. Mes c’est repugnance de nature que le aive soit plus haut del feu. Dum il est elz que nous consentons a philosophes greus qui dient que les ont propre movement. Mes de ce movement i a uncore doble sentence, quar li un dient qu’eles se movent reondement en un meesmes leu si que par lor movement sunt sostenues et por ce apperent touz tems en une partie del ciel. Li autre dient qu’eles se movent de leu en leu come les planets, mes nos ne poens apercevoir lor movement quar eles metent tant de tems a parfaire lor cercle que la vie d’un home ne soffist pas a apercevoir un petit point de lor cercle. Li autre dient que li movemenz de ces estoiles fermes ne puet estre sentiz ne aperceuz et metent tele raison quar quant aucune chose est apercue qu’ele se muet si movemenz est aperceuz par autre chose qui est prochiene qui ne se muet ou par autre chose qui se muet plus tardivement, que cele quant l’en voit que la chose qui plus tart se muet ou qui ne se muet est eslogniee ou trespassee de cele qui plus tost se muet, si cum vos veez en la mer ou en aive corant que la nave qui plus tost court la trespasse. Et por ce que desus les estoiles fermes n’a nule chose ne ferme ne i meins movable par quoi lor movemenz soit sentiz et aperceuz, por ce disons nos qu’eles sunt fichiees et fermes et qu’eles ne se movent quar jasoit ce qu’eles se movent lor movemenz ne puet estre aperceuz. [4] Des planetes poez apercevoir lor naturel movement quar une foiz aperent en une partie del firmament, autre foiz en l’autre, .i. foiz plus amont, autre foiz plus aval, autre foiz a destre, autre foiz a senestre. Le accidentel movement des planetes est cil que il ont del firmament o cui il tornent une foiz jor et nuit, et ceste est (f. 25va) le opinion de Platons5 qui dit que li planete corent contre 5 The opinion attributed here to the Greek philosopher Plato (4th century bc) stems from a passage in his Timaeus dialogue (§36b-36d and §40b–c), which was explicated in later

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le firmament par naturel movement, quar se li Moutons est en mi le ciel, li Poissons, Aquaires et Capricornes vont en Occident entre le Moton et le Occident, et entre le Moton et Orient sunt li Toreaus, le Gemel et li Cancres, dum li planetes qui est el Moton ne vait mie del Moton el Poisson, mes del Moton el Torel et dilueques es Gemeaus et puis el Cancre et einsit vait en Orient contre le firmament par naturel movement, et totes voies sunt reporté li planetes en Orient ovecques par l’embruiement de son isnel cours. Aucuns demanderent quelle necessitez et quels mestiers il fu que il alassent contre le firmament. Et einsi redirent les sages que li firmamenz estoit de si grant isnelete et de si grant cours et de si hastif que nule chose ne poist ne vivre ne durer se aucune chose ne alast encontre qui le retardast. Et se li planete corussent ovec le firmament de tant hastassent il plus son cours. Et fust plus ravissables dum la sapience del criator establi que il alassent encontre le firmament por entemprer le grant embruiement del firmament et le hastif cours, quar s’il coreust si hastivement nule chose ne poist durer ne vivre el monde. [5] Or demanderent aucun por quoi il fu donques mestiers que li planete fussent porté arrieres o le firmament environ la terre. A ce redirent que si il ne fussent porté arrieres o le firmament environ la terre chascun jor une foiz entre jor et nuit il ne feissent pas le divers tems qui estoit necessaires as choses terrianes autresi cum lor oirres estoit necessaires en obliquant par le firmament por varier et diversefier la nature des .iiii. tems. Ceste fu le opinion de Platon et de autres plusors philosophes. [6] Aristotes6 fu de ces—(f. 25vb)—te opinion que li planete corent touz tems oveques le firmament, ne n’ont autre naturel movement, quar il disoit que li planete sunt en la quinte essence que nos avons desus dite qui ne sueffre mi le temolte ne nule contrariete. Et se li planete alassent contre le firmament il i eust temolte et contriariete. Dum il ne poaient avoir nul plus naturel movement que aler chascun jor en occident autresi cum li firmamenz et revenir en orient environ la terre. [7] Et se tu demandes de Aristote dum se avient que li planete puis que il corent o le firmament en Occident ne entrent es signes qui sunt devant en Orient ainz entrent es signes qui sunt derrieres vers Orient. A ce respont Aristotes qu’il n’est mie voirs que li planete entrent es signes qui les sivent, mes li commentaries, for example those by Calcidius (4th century ad) and by William of Conches († circa 1150), authors whose work our author was familiar with (see Chapter 5). Compare, for example, Guillelmus de Conchis, Philosophia, lib. 2, §41. Guillelmus de Conchis, Glosae super Platonem, ed. Edouard Jeauneau, Textes philosophiques du moyen âge 13 (Paris, 1965), 168, 171, 195. 6 On the difference of opinion regarding the motion and nature of the planets between Plato and Aristoteles (4th century bc) which our author introduces and discusses here, see Chapter 5.

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signe vienent a eaus. Quar faison raison que li Solauz soit el premier degré del Moton, le Solauz et li firmamenz vont en Occident, et court tote jor et tote nuit par cel degré jusque tant qu’il revient en Orient. Mes por ce que li firmamenz est plus hastif qui li Solauz li est soutirez, quant il vient en Orient li premiers degrez del Moton et cours ia par desus lui li seconz, et li autres—c’est li premiers est ja devant. Et einsi court tote jor et toute nuit par ce second degré tant qu’il revient en Orient et lors naist o lui li tierz degrez et li secondz est ia devant por ce que li firmamenz est plus isneaus. Et einsi passent le Soloil tuit li degré del zodiake. Einsi disoit Aristote contre le opinion Platon qui disoit que lor naturels movement estoit contre le firmament et disoit que tuit li planete estoient d’une mesmes legereté et d’une meesmes isneleté. Mes de tant cum li un sunt plus bas del autres et lor cercles sunt plus brief metent il meins a parfaire lor cercles et lor cours et le font en divers tems si cum li cercle sunt plus grant et plus petit cum vos orrez après. Mais Aristote disoit le contraire quar il (f. 26ra) disoit que de tant cum il sunt plus haut estoient il plus leger et plus isnel, et de tant cum il estoient les passoit meins li firmamentz. Et por ce dit l’en que il perfont lor cercles plus tart por ce que li firmamenz les passe meins. Et li degrez met plus a passer le planete. Dum Saturnes por ce qu’il fu plus legiers et plus isneaus s’en ala plus haut que tuit li autres planete. Et por ce que il est plus isneaus le passe meins li firmamenz quar il ne le passe entre jor et nuit que la trentieme partie d’un degré. La Lune qui est plus corpulente et plus grief plus pres de la terre et a son cercle plus prochien de la terre. Et por ce fut ele dite es fables des autors Proserpina, qui autre tant vaut a dire cum pres rempanz, dum por ce qu’ele est plus grief et plus pesanz est ele plus tost passee del firmament quar il la passe entre jor et nuit au meins .xii. degrez. Et einsi la passent plus tost tuit li degre del zodiake, si qu’ele parfait tout son cercle en meins d’un mois. [8] Ceste fu l’opinions Aristote, mes la commune opinions des philosophes dit ce que Platons en dit que il se movent et vont contre le firmament par naturel movement, jasoit qu’il soient ravi chascun jor o le firmament environ la terre. Et ce est commun a touz les planetes. Et uncore ont autre communité li .vii. planete que il se varient et se changent por diverses causes en divers tems, quar li uns planetes mue sa colour et sa segnefiance et son propre effect que il fait et ocure et es choses terrianes par la diunction et par la voisinance del autre planete si cum Mars qui est roges et enflammez pert assez de sa rogeor et torne plus a blanchor quant Venus li aproche. Et la malice de lui est atempree par la procheinté et par la voisinance del benigne planete. Autresi Jupiter qui est estoile clere cum or et est benigne et segnefiant de bien et de salu, la segnefiance et la fortune qu’ele done as (f. 26rb) terrianes choses est corrumpue par la voisinance de Saturne et de sa malice et sa color meesmes en oscursist.

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[9] Li .v. planete ont uncore une communité de ce qu’il sunt stacionaire ou retrograde. Ce n’ont mie li Solauz ne la Lune. Mes porce que de ce sunt plusors opinions de lor stacion et de lor retrogradation, nos vos en dirons ce que plusor autor en dient. [10] Aucun distrent que quant li Solauz vient si pres d’un autre planete qu’il li envoie el cors les rais de sa lumiere, par la grant vertu et par la grant force de ses rais il le fait retorner de sa voie. Quant il ne pas est mie si prochiens que il le puisse faire retorner par la force de ses rais au meins il le contraint a ester qu’il ne voait avant et lorsest diz stationaires. Et quant il est si loing qu’il ne le puet envoier la force de ses rais, lors vait li planetes sa voie et son cours et est diz progressis. [11] Li autre sunt de ceste opinion que li Solauz est de nature adtractive cum li aimanz, dum quant li planete sunt mult prochien il les fait retorner, quant il sunt un poi plus loing que il ne les puet faire retorner si les fait ester. Quant il sunt bien loing si s’en puent aler lor voie. [12] Li autre dient que il ne estoient nule foiz, mais il aperent aucune foiz ester par ce que il sunt eslevé aucune foiz plus haut, aucune foiz sunt plus bas. Et cele elevations et cele bassece avient de la disposition et del ordenement de lor cercles. Aucun dient que ce avient de ce que li Solauz deseche aucune foiz plus lor cors. Et lors sunt plus legier et montent plus haut. Et autre foiz ont plus de humor et sont plus grief et lors descendent plus bas. Dum il avient que quant il sunt eslevé ou abessie en droite maniere contremont ou contreval sunt dit stationaire et se il sunt eslevé ou abessie en obliquant ou de travers lors sunt dit retrograde ou progressif. [13] Li autre i mistrent autre raison et distrent que li .iii. (f. 26va) plus haut planete, Saturnes, Jupiter, Mars, ont chascuns .ii. cercles, .i. qui enclot la terre et par celui corent naturelment contre lou firmament, un autre qui n’enclot mie la terre qui est diz epicercles por ce que il est sour l’autre cercle. Et li planetes se torne en cel epicercle aucune foiz en montant, aucune foiz en descendent. Et quant il monte ou avale si semble ester. Quant il est en la gregnor bassece de cel epicercle que il vait sa droite voie, si est diz progressis. Quant il est el plus haut de son epicercle porce qu’il avale vers Occident, si est diz retrogrades. Autresi cum si une tres grant roe tornait en l’air sour nos chies ou il eust atachie un cierge ou une lampe et tornast vers occident. Quant il monteroit ou descendroit es costez de la roe il nos sembleroit qu’il estat et qu’il ne se meust. Quant il seroit el bas de la roe il nos sembleroit que il alast vers Orient. Quant il seroit el haut de la roe et il avaleroit sembleroit qu’il alast vers occident. Einsi sunt diverses opinions de la station et de la retrogradation des planetes. Si eslisiez la mellor ne porquant Martians s’acorde a cels qui dient que la stations et la retrogradations des planetes est de la force des rais del Soloil.

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[14] Uncore ont li Solauz et la Lune une proprieté que li autre .v. n’ont mie, quar jasoit que il se reponent aucunes foiz desoz la lumiere del Soloil et autre foiz aperent. Ce ne est mie eclipses, ainz est naissemenz et couchemenz yliakes. Et nos vos dirons après que ce est quant nos vos traiterons des .v. planetes. [15] Uncore ont li Solauz et la Lune et li .iii. sovrain planete Saturnus, Jupiter, Mars une communité que li autre .ii. Venus et Mercurius ne ont mie, quar lor cercles par quoi il corent contre le firmament environent la terre. Li cercles de Venus et (f. 26vb) de Mercure ne l’environent mie, ainz corent environ le Soloil et ont lor centre de lors cercles el cors del Soloil. Mes Mercurius a le centre de son cercle el mi leu del cors del Soloil, Venus l’a en la sovrainete del cors del Soloil et por ce sunt il dit epicercle qu’il n’avirronent mie la terre si cum j’ai dit desus des autres. Et de ceste intrication et envelopement de cercles est solue une contrarietez qui est entre les philosophes, quar li Caldeu7 de cui sentence fu Tulles et Cicero8 distrent que li Solauz est el quart leu et el mileu des planetes. Li Egyptien a cui Platons se consent distrent que il estoit après la Lune et Macrobes9 en met lor opinions et lor raisons, quar li Caldeu regarderent que quant Venus et Mercurius sunt plus bas que li Solauz, il sunt vue plus apertement porce que li Solauz ne nos puet mie si repondre les choses qui sunt desoz lui cum cum celes qui sunt desus. Dum selonc l’estat qu’il orent plus notable et plus apparissant distrent qu’il estoient desouz le Soloil. Et porce que li Solauz qui est fontaine de toute chalor devoit estre el mileu si que par lui fust atempree toute l’armonie, ce est la consonance celestial, si qu’il fust ivelment governierres et atemprierres des choses desus lui et des choses desouz. [16] Li Egyptien i mistrent autres raisons, quar li Solauz ne puet tant estre hauz cum est Venus el haut de son cercle, ne Mercurius cum Venus. Et por ce dient que li Solauz est plus bas que Mercurius et Mercurius que Venus. Et si i mistrent autre raison por quoi il covint que li Solauz fust assis après la Lune, quar la Lune si est froide et moete, li Solauz est chauz et ses. Et por ce covint ce dient que li Solauz fust prochiens a la Lune que de sa chalor fust atempree la froidure de la Lune et sa secherece fust atempree la grant humiditez de la Lune, quar autrement la Lune qui est voisine et prochiene de la terre envoiast en la terre les rais (f. 27ra) de sa lumiere destremprez de la grant humor et de la grant froidure et destemprast la terre. Et uncore i avoient autre raison, quar la Lune n’a point de lumiere de soi, aincois recoit toute la lumiere et la resplendor 7 The term Caldeu (Chaldeans) refers to ancient Babylonian or Mesopotamian astronomers/ astrologers, who were credited with important contributions in developing astrology as a science. They are cited as a source throughout the treatise in a generic way. See also Chapter 5. 8 Marcus Tullius Cicero (†43 bc). See also Chapter 5. 9 Macrobius Ambrosius Theodosius (early 5th century), author of the in the middle ages influential Commentarii in somnium Scipionis. See also Chapter 5.

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que ele a del Soloil. Dum il covenoit que li uns fust prochiens a l’autre senz ce qu’il i eust nul meien entre .ii. Et ces diverses opinions avienent del intrication et del enlacement del cercles de Venus et de Mercure si cum je vos ai dit desus.

Fragment 4: Chapter 93

De l’esclipse del Soloil (Pseudo-Dionysius as a Source) [1] Si devez savoir que li eclipses, ce est li defauz de la lumiere del Soloil et de la Lune, vient de l’obliquement et del tort oirre que il font par le firmament, quar einsi cum je vos ai dit la Lune qui vait vagant et obliquant par totes les .xii. lignes del zodiake et qui chascun mois revient et se conjoint au Soloil en .i. meesmes degre. Se il avient qu’ele se joigne au Soloil en une meesmes ligne einsit qu’ele soit droitement en une ligne entre le Soloil et la terre, ele recoit les rais del Soloil en tele maniere que por le umbre del cors de la Lune li rai del Soloil ne pueent venir a la terre einsi cum il soloient, ainz est la terre aumbree qu’ele ne puet estre enluminee des rais del soloil si cum ele soloit. Et disons que li Solauz sueffre eclipse, ce est a dire defaut, ne mie por ce que sa lumiere ne sa resplendor li defalle, mes porce que si rai ne poent (f. 31ra) enluminer la terre si cum il soelent, por le cors de la Lune qui est entre lui et la terre. Nequedent li eclipses del Soloil ne puet estre generals porce que li umbres de la Lune ne puet prendre tote la terre, qua ril vient en aguissant contreval, ne ne porprent que la .xviii.me part de la terre si cum i lest dit desus. Et nos vos avons mostré por quoi li umbres de la Lune vient en aguisant. [2] Si devez savoir que li eclipses del Soloil ne avient par nature fors en la .xxix.me Lune ou en la .xxx.me, c’est quant la Lune se joint en un meesme minute oveques le Soloil. Et ce sot bien li bons clers misires Sainz Denises li Aryopagites10 qui uncore n’estoit convertiz quant nostres sires Jhesucriz fu crucefiez, quar il estoit en mer en .i. vessel quant nostres sires trespassa et soufri mort por nos que les tenebres furent sour terre. Et Sainz Denises sot porce que la Lune estoit .xiiii.me que li eclipses n’estoit pas naturels, dum nos trovons que il dist ou li sires del monde et des elemenz soeffre ou li element mentent. [3] Et devez savoir que ia soit ce que li eclipses del Soloil aviegne en la .xxix.me ou en la .xxx.me Lune. Nequident il n’avient mie totes les foiz qu’ele est .xxix.me ou .xxx.me, quar ele se assemble o le Soloil se ele n’est droitement el

10

The anonymous church father Pseudo-Dionysius (late 5th century), known in medieval times as Saint Dionysius the Areopagite. See my extensive discussion of this passage in Chapter 5.

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mileu de la laor del zodiake ele ne puet empeeschier les rais del soloil que il ne viegnent a la terre et ne puet faire eclipse. [4] Et uncore quant ele est el mileu puet ele faire le eclipse en tout le cors del Soloil ou en partie, quar quant ele est desouz le Soloil si droit (f. 31rb) en la ligne del mileu qu’ele ne soit ne plus a destre ne plus a senestre lors aumbre tout le Soloil et fait le eclipse en tout le cors del Soloil. Et se ele est en tele maniere el mileu que ele touche a la ligne neporquant ele est plus de l’une partie que del autre ele ne aumbre mie tout le Soloil, ainz fait le eclipse en partie del cors del Soloil. [5] Et devez savoir quant vos veez le eclipse del Soloil porce que la Lune vait par son naturel cours de Occident en Orient premierement quant ele a consuit le Soloil, ele li tolt sa lumiere et defaut primes vers Occident, et le vait einsi courant petit et petit jusques a tant que tote sa lumiere li defaut quant a nostre veue, quar li Solauz en soi ne pert point de sa lumiere ne de sa resplendor. Et quant la Lune le trespasse si recommence li Solauz a reprendre sa lumiere primes devers Occident, autresi cum la nove Lune quant ele ist desoz le Soloil. Et quant plus passe li Lune le Soloil plus reprent li Solauz de sa lumiere jusques a tant que il apert touz et que il a tote sa lumiere. [6] Et autresi cum li eclipses avient en nostre emispere ca desus avient il en l’emispere desoz, mes les genz deca ne le poent veair. Or avez oi del eclipse del Soloil.

Fragment 5: Chapter 126

Del acces (Dorotheus of Sidon as a Source?) [1] (f. 42vb) Si acces del planete est en .i. des lintels, ce est une des mesons que nos apelames angles ou en une des mesons qui est empres le lintel que nos vos apelames succedenz as angles. Li reces est quant li planetes est en une des mesons que nos apelames departanz des angles. [2] L’aplications est quant li legiers planetes aproche au plus grief et au plus pesant, einsi que li planete legiers soit en meins degrez que li pesanz, quar quant andui li planete sunt en autant de degrez et de poinz li uns comme li autres ou soient en .i. signe ou soient en .ii. li planetes est diz arrivez, ce est a dire qu’il est conjoinz quant il sunt mesure en tele figuire que une droite ligne puet estre menee par le mileu de l’un des planetes droit au mileu del autre. Nequident Messehala dist que l’aplications est quant li legiers planetes cort el .v. degre del signe et li griev el .x.me et durra l’aplications jusquez a tant que li legiers aconsivra le grief. Et la tres bone applications est quant ele est de (f. 43ra) lonc et de le quar la promesse qu’ele fait ne puet estre casse ne vaine.

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[3] L’applications de la besogne est quant li planetes aproche et arrive au planete qui est sires de la meson del regne ou de la triplicité ou del terme ou de la face. Et se li planete sunt autrement si ne sera point de application ne de aprochement de la besogne, ne de l’oevre, quar ele ne promet nul effect ne nul evenement de la chose, quar si cum dist Duromes11 si uns sers ou uns prisons s’en fuit et l’en trueve l’application de lonc et de lé si que la Lune s’aproche et arrive a Jupiter del lonc et a Mars del lé, ou la converse a Jupiter del lé et a Mars del lonc, ele rameine celui qui s’en fuit. Et le applications qu’ele a a Jupiter oste et tolt la paor que li sers n’a garde de son segnor, aincois li pardonera. Et porce que vos entendez les manieres de aplication del lonc et del lé, si vos dirons ce que Albumaxar12 dit de la conjunction del lonc et del lé et de la application autresi del lonc et del lé, quar tout est en une maniere second Albumaxar. […]

Fragment 6: Chapter 131

De collection (The Use of the Term Senators) [1] (f. 45rb) Collection de lumiere si est quant li planetes qui est sires del signe ascendent et li sires de la besogne et de la chose que l’en demande se assemblent de diverse partie a .i. planete plus grief et plus pesant que il ne sunt, quar einsi li grief planetes qui est gioinz as autres .ii. colt et aune lor rais de lor lumiere en soi et se il est fortunez et il ne regarde aucun mal (f. 45va) planete qui li recolpe sa lumiere ou la raivise si sera tres granz biens. Et se cil qui colt la lumiere de l’un et de l’autre est mals planetes porce que il la rent de l’un a l’autre si sera corrumpue la collections, si cum se aucuns fait question en la nativité de aucun enfant se il regnera et vos trovez que la livre est ascendenz en sa nativité et Venus estoit sires et duitres de celui qui la chose demande et estoit el .x.me degré del Mouton, la Lune qui estoit sires del regne estoit el .xii.me degré del torel, et ne regardoit mie Venerem, Jupiter si estoit el .xv.me degré del cancre et en le angle de enmie le ciel a cui Venus venoit de .iiii.art regart la Lune de .vi.me, et Jupiter colloit lor lumiere et lor force en la meson de la chose, demostroit que a ce que il regnast, il covenoit que la segnorie del reiaume il eust par mains de Christus et de senatours et de hauz homes. 11 12

BnF, fr. 613, f. 115v reads Dimogenes. The astrologer in question is to be identified with the Hellenistic astrologer Dorotheus of Sidon (1st century ad), known as “Doronius” or “Duronius” in Latin sources. See my discussion in Chapter 5. The Persian astrologer Abu Maʿshar (9th century) who worked at the Abbasid court in Bagdad and whose Introductorium Maius would become influential in Western Europe. See also Chapter 5.

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Fragment 7: Chapter 186



Des .l. commandemenz qui sunt regles et leus en touz jugemenz (A Quote from Hermocrates) [1] (f. 59rb) En ceste partie de nostre livre vos volons dire de .l. commandemenz qui sunt leus et regles que l’en doit regarder en touz jugemenz et en touz questions si cum dit Zael13 puis que nos vos avons dit de la division de firmament et des cercles et des ymages et des climaz et des signes et des planetes et de lor movemenz et de lor segnefiances et de lor proprietez que il ont par soi et li un o les autres et des tesmoingz del Soloil et de la Lune et des duitres qui la besogne meinent et segnefient, porce que il ne pere que nos issons de la matire en contant tantes paroles vos volons ici mostrer certaine voie a jugemenz de astronomie et vos volons eslire des choses desus escrites toutes les plus precioses et les mellors et celes qui sunt necessaires. [2] Et porce que la granz prolixitez et li montepliemenz de paroles ennuie a multes genz vos metrons .l. commandemenz que chascuns astrologues doit garder en faisant jugemenz, quar si cum dist Hermocra—(f. 59va)—tes14 quant le edifices est faiz de si grant matire et de tante maniere cum l’en a assemblee et il covient assez remanoir de la matire mult doit estre loez cil qui tant de matire et si grant habundance assembla por faire cel edifice, mes plus doit estre loez li maistres ovriers et li maistres engignierres qui entre tantes choses et de tant matire sot eslire les mellors choses et les plus necessaires a faire le oevre. Or devez donques savoir que .l. commandemenz sunt dum toute la certaine raison de jugier ist.

Fragment 8: Chapter 189



Del cercle celestial comment lez choses sa desouz pregnent de luy lor natures (Appreciation of Ptolemy’s Work) [1] (f. 62vb) Mes porce que mult de ceaus qui s’estudient es arz liberals et voelent conoistre les causes et les comencemenz des choses i errent meintes foiz par ce que il ne pueent ne ne voelent metre cure et diligence en la verite enquerre, meesmement en ceste art de astronomie la quele lor est meins coneue et meins entendable come cele qui ne se demostre mie as rudes mes a ceaus qui sunt de soutil engin si cum je dis el commencement de mon livre, por ce 13 14

Sahl ibn Bisr (9th century), author of the Quinquaginta precepta. See Chapter 5. BN fr 613, f. 128r reads Hermes. On the identification of this source see my extensive discussion in Chapter 5.

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dient il que ceste arz est vaine et senz verite et est de vaines choses et de mençonges cum cil qui ne pueent la verité entendre et porce vos voel je mostrer au plus entendablement que je porte la maniere et la raisons des questions et des demandes comment eles doivent estre faites et coment l’en doit encerchier de la chose demandeee selonc les .xii. mesons, quar Hermes,15 qui fu uns des plus sages de ceste art après Abindemon16 le plus ancian prince de astronomie, la ou il parole en ses treciez del cercle celestial et del movement del firmament espont et mostre par queles manieres de movemenz li cercles atrait les affecz et les talenz des choses et destorne les faiz et ordene les fortunes. [2] Le Ptholomeus17 qui plus estudia profondement et soutilla plus que philosophes de son tens dit que li affect des choses ont lor commencement des estoiles en tele maniere que les substances et (f. 63ra) li cors ca desouz de cest monde respondent as sovraines natures par le ivel consonance par quoi il se acordent esemble dont si cum il est dit el commencement del livre qui a nom Atalacym.18 La force des estoiles qui est en eles devinement assise s’en entre et se assemble plus tost et plus prestement es choses qui plus lor sunt prochienes et plus semblables a ce qui apartient a l’ame second le aptitude et la habilité de la nature et second ce que eles poent recevoir des manieres de formes. Et ce poens nos aparcevoir que li cors celestial et les estoiles ont en eles la cause et le naissement assis devinement par quoi il movent generalment toutes les choses qui sunt desouz eles. Et cist movemenz est en .ii. manieres. L’une que les choses qui n’ont ame il gardent et norrissent en l’estat ou eles sont faites et concriees. L’autre par qu’il governent et atemprent l’engendreure des cors qui ont ame et le proces de generation par l’affinite et par la voisinance qu’il ont a eles.

15

The Greco-Roman deity Hermes Trismegistos. The so-called Corpus Hermeticum, a collection of anonymous hermetic text written by Hellenistic Greek authors, was attributed to him. See also Chapter 5. 16 Abidemon, mentioned by Abu Maʿshar (see note 12) as an ancient “king of the Indians” (see Herman of Carinthia, De essentiis. A critical edition with translation and commentary, ed. Charles Burnett (Leiden, 1982), 247). 17 Klaudios Ptolemaios (or Ptolemy; 2nd century ad), author of, among other works, inter alia the so-called Almagest (astronomy) and the Tetrabiblos (astrology). See also Chapter 5. 18 Or at-Talasim: an unidentified book on talismans mentioned in the so-called hidden preface of the Liber novem iudicum, that was our author’s source for much of this chapter (189). By suggesting this book was composed by Ptolemy our author interprets the passage in the preface erroneously, since there the work on talismans is said to be written by the author of the Liber himself. See Burnett, “The Hidden Preface in the Liber novem iudicum,” 105–106, and also Chapter 4.

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[3] Et porce que ce apartient a autre speculation a veair et a regarder la conjunction de la force qui est en eaus assise par vertu devine coment ele est tresportee es cors ca desouz nos ne entendons ore a mostrer fors ce qui apartient a nos, c’est a dire le effect et la diversefiance que li cors celestial font es choses ca desouz par quoi nos puissons rendre certains jugemenz des diverses choses et de diverses fortunes qui ca desouz avienent. Et porce avons nos traitie et compilee ceste partie de astronomie de touz les anciens escriz que nos avons oiz et veuz ou nos avons mis touz les secrez qui apartienent a faire jugemenz des divers avenemenz des choses et diverses fortunes qui ca desouz avienent et doutons que cist traitiez ne viegne es mains de aucunes genz qui blasmenet les autrui escriz quant il ne les poent entendre et en rechignent et s’en escharnissent. Et porce (f. 63rb) prions que cist traitiez ne soit abandonez comuns a teles genz si cum nos deismes desus.

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Index Abu Maʿshar 6n2, 8, 100, 103, 107, 112, 115, 117–119, 249 Achaia Principality of 1, 45, 49–50, 77, 81, 110, 152, 158, 206 See also Hugo of Champlitte, Geoffrey i of Villehardouin, Geoffrey ii of Villehardouin, William ii of Villehardouin, Leonardo da Veroli, Corinth, Kalavryta, Merbaka, Koron, Modon Adrianople Principality of 1, 61, 77 See also Theodore Branas Agnes of France, Byzantine empress 163 Akropolites, George 10–11, 15, 140 Albert the Great 54, 170 Alexander iv, pope 88 Alexander the Great 135, 150–152, 205 Alexandria Cyril of 165 Theon of 118 Alexios i Komnenos 187 Alexios iii Angelos, Byzantine emperor 135, 143–144 Alexios iv Angelos, Byzantine emperor 33, 135 Alexios v Doukas, Byzantine emperor  143–144 Alexios Sthlabos, ruler of the Rhodopes region 61, 78, 139 Alexis, John 204 Alfonso x, king of Castile 5, 17–18, 20n51, 21–22, 33n13, 40, 53, 66, 85–94, 113–114, 227, 232–233 Al-Khayyat, Abu Ali, Persian scholar 6n2, 101 Al-Kindi, Yusuf Yaʿqub ibn Ishaq 100 Al-Tabari Umar 100 Aloubardes, Maximos 42, 111, 162, 213 Altomanno, Peter of 71 Andronikos i Komnenos, Byzantine emperor 135

Andronikos ii Paleologos, Byzantine emperor 47, 161, 169, 183, 188, 197 Angelos Family 166, 209 Helena 60n21, 69, 172 Irene 88 John 59 Mary 43 Angelo Sanudo, duke of Naxos 77n72, 140 Angermer, lector of Chalcedon 163–164, 166 Anthony, archbishop of Novgorod 201 Antioch Principality of 44, 50, 82n2, 159 Theodore of 53 Aphameia 194 Aquino, Thomas of 54, 123 Aragon, Violante of 85, 113 architecture 186–197 Arezzo, Benedict of 40–41, 54, 63, 148, 177, 201, 211 Armenia 144, 176 Armentières, Clémence of 132 Aristotle 101–102, 104–107, 117, 121–122, 126, 150–152, 174–175, 180, 243–246 See also Pseudo-Aristotle Arta 200 Asia Minor 1, 61–62, 79, 153, 159 See also Chalcedon, Cilicia, Galata, Skamandros, Nicaea, Nicomedia, Paphlagonia, Troad astronomy and astrology 21, 33, 126, 175–176, 181–182 See also Abu Maʿshar, Al-Kindi, Al-Tabari Umar, Marcianus Capella, Masha’allah ibn Athari, Ptolemy, Sahl ibn Bisr, Simplikios Athens City of 128, 144, 177–179 Duchy of 1, 48, 50, 80, 158 See also Otho i of La Roche, Hermingarde of La Roche, John of La Roche, Berardus, Michael Choniates, Daphni, Thebes Athyra 153–164

Index Augustine of Hippo 98–99, 104, 107, 117, 182, 239 Aulnay, Vilain of 71n54 Autremencourt, William of, lord of Salona 48, 79, 82n2 Auvergne, William of 54 Auxerre, Remigius of 99, 105, 117 Baldwin i of Flanders/Hainaut, emperor of Constantinople 1, 8–9, 11, 27, 36, 45, 72, 82n2, 132–134, 142–145, 147, 154, 156, 191 Baldwin ii of Courtenay, emperor of Courtenay 2, 7, 9, 15, 17–23, 28–33, 36–40, 42–45, 48–51, 54, 57–65, 68–69, 71–74, 76, 79, 81–94, 109, 111, 113, 116, 137n15, 140, 142, 147, 154–156, 161–162, 172–176, 184, 187, 191, 193, 201, 209–210, 213, 226–234, 240 Baldwin v/viii, count of Hainaut and Flanders 8, 132n1 Balsamon, Theodore 54, 165 Basingstoke, John of 177–179 Bath, Adelard of 6 Beauvais City of 17 Vincent of 114–116, 183 Benedict, cardinal of Saint Suzanna 10 Berardus, archbishop of Athens 178 Berengaria of Leon/Castile, queen of Jerusalem and empress of Constantinople 17, 61, 86n10, 90n21 Béthune Family 159 Cono i of, imperial regent 35, 71n54, 134, 150, 152, 205 John of 59 Biervliet 9 Blanche of Castile, queen of France 30, 42, 73, 116 Blemmydes, Nikephoros 14n33, 181, 184 Bodonitza Marquisate of 48, 80 Saint John Prodromos monastery 178 Boethius 98, 104–105, 107, 116, 182 Bonatti, Guido 53 Bonaventura 54

293 Boniface i , marquis of Montferrat and lord of Thessaloniki 47, 59, 92n29–30, 133, 135, 149 Boniface ii, marquis of Montferrat 47 Boril, tsar of Bulgaria 135 Boulogne 132 Bracheux, Peter of 153 Brachnos, doctor 175 Branas, Theodore, lord of Adrianople 35, 43, 136, 161(daughter), 166, 209 Brienne Alphonse 32n12, 61, 64–67, 72, 90n21 John (the younger) 32n12, 61, 64–67, 72, 90n21 Louis 32n12, 61, 64–66, 72, 90n21 See also John of Brienne, emperor of Constantinople; Mary of Brienne, empress of Constantinople Buccaleone, Robert of, epi tou kanikleiou  16, 35 Bulgaria 61–62, 69, 91, 152, 209 See also Kaloyan, Boril, John ii Asen, Marc, bishop of Preslav Caesarea, Basil of 54 Caesar, Julius 135, 137 Cairel, Elias 149–150 Calcidius 99, 105, 122 Capella, Martianus 8, 97, 99, 102–105, 107, 115, 117, 121, 241, 245 Carthage 134 Castile Kingdom of 81, 112, 118, 156, 209 Philip of 90 See also Ferdinand iii, Alfonso X, Blanche of Castile, Berengaria of Leon/Castile Châtillon, Renald of Cayeux Family 35, 71, 73, 161, 209 Anseau of 59, 175 Anselin of 59 Chalcedon 163–164 See also Angermer Chaldeans 117, 246 Champagne 71 See also Aulnay, Brienne, Merry, Troyes, Villehardouin

294 Charlemagne, Carolingian emperor 37n22, 134, 150 Charles of Anjou, count of Provence and king of Sicily 16, 20n51, 34, 40, 44, 60, 67, 90, 93, 148, 174 Chionides, George 181–182 Choniates Michael 177–178 Niketas 51, 135–136, 181 Chrysostom, John 54, 163, 165 Cicero, Marcus Tullius 98, 117, 182, 246 Cicon, Otho of, lord of Karystos 111, 172 Cilicia, kingdom of Armenian 44 Cistercians 158 See also Constantinople, Daphni, Pilis Clari, Robert of 132–135, 153 Clement iv, pope 90 Colonna, Giovanni 167 Comestor, Petrus 18, 109 Conches, William of 99 –100, 105, 108–109, 121 Conrad iv of Hohenstaufen, rex Romanorum 181 Conradin of Hohenstaufen, king of Sicily 148 Constantina, Athenian philosopher 177–179 Constantine the Great, Roman emperor 29, 137, 178 Constantinople City of 110 Blacherna palace (Constantinople) 8, 188, 190, 192 Charisios gate 147–148 Christ Pantepoptes church 190 Christ tou Chalkitou church 14 Chora church 191 Dar-el-Balat mosque 173 Dominican convent 15, 165–166, 172, 183–184, 191 Genoese quarter 193 Great or Boukoleon Palace (Constantinople) 8, 16, 147, 188, 190, 192, 195 Hagia Trias monastery 190 See also Demetrios Pyrros Holy Apostles church 190 Kalenderhane Camii (Franciscan convent) 15, 184, 190–191, 195, 198–199, 211

Index Mangana palace 195 Michaelion (Sosthenion) 195 Mitaton 173 Nea church (Constantinople) 8 Orphanotropheion 10–13, 15 Pantokrator monastery 54, 190, 201 Patriarchal School 12–15, 184 Porphyra palace 30–31 Saint Andrew metochion 200 Saint George church 43, 148, 191–192 Saint George of Mangana monastery 164, 166 Saint John Prodromos 167, 190 Saint Mary of Le Perchay monastery (Cistercian) 190 Saint Paul, church and grammar school of (Constantinople) 10–13 Saint Peter church 14 Saint Samson complex 176, 190–191 Saint Sophia church 12–13, 145, 168n88, 184 Saint Theodore of Sphorakios church 14 Saint Thorlac 191 Sancta Maria Sancti Angeli monastery (Cistercian) 190–191 San Marco dell’Embolo 190 Theotokos Chalkoprateia church 12–13 Theotokos Evergetis monastery 200 Theotokos Nikopoios chapel 147–148 Theotokos of Lips monastery 195 Theotokos Pammakaristos church 190 Theotokos Panachrantos church 16 Theotokos tes Varaggiotisses monastery 204 Theotokos ton Blachernon church (Constantinople) 8, 190 Theotokos tou Pharou chapel 201 Venetian quarter 187, 189–190 See also Galata Corfu 93 Corinth 174 Correr, Pietro, Latin patriarch of Constantinople 12 Council of Lyons i  82n2 Council of Lyons ii 168, 212 Courtenay Family and lordship of 9, 67, 152 Catherina of 74n64, 230n11

Index

295

Mathilde of 47, 59 unnamed son of Baldwin ii 74, 76, 230n12 See also Peter of Courtenay, Robert of Courtenay, Baldwin ii of Courtenay, Philip of Courtenay Cremona, Gerard of 103, 118 Crete 75, 158 crusades 42, 46–47, 57, 63, 67, 81, 195 See also Fourth Crusade, Seventh Crusade, Holy Land Cumans 81–82, 91, 144, 176, 205 Cyclades 153 See also Naxos Cyprus 64n36, 67, 81

England 81n2, 154–156 See also Stephen of Blois, Henry i, Henry ii, Henry iii, Eleonore of Aquitaine, Richard i, Adelard of Bath, John of Basingstoke, Roger of Hereford, Robert Grosseteste enkyklios paideia 10 Epiros Principality of (Empire of Thessaloniki)  1, 30, 43, 61, 77, 81, 92, 97, 181 See also Michael i Doukas, Michael ii Doukas, Arta, Dyrrachion Etherien, Hugo 146 Euboia 47–48, 50, 75, 77, 91, 111 See also Karystos, Negropont

Damietta 42, 82n2 Dandolo, Enrico, doge of Venice 45 Daphni, abbey of (Cistercian) 158 Daphnousia 187 Da Romano, Ezzelino 53 David Komnenos, ruler of Paphlagonia 77–78 David, Byzantine patriarch of Antioch 168 Demetrios of Montferrat, king of Thessaloniki 47, 92 Demetrios, priest 43, 148, 162, 168, 211 Derkos 82n2 Dionysius the Areopagite See Pseudo-Dionysius Dioskorides, Pedanius 175 Dominicans 168n88, 173, 210–211 See also Albert the Great, Simon the Constantinopolitan, Peter of Sézanne, Thomas of Aquino, William of Moerbeke, Constantinople, Thebes Doukas, Anna 84 See also Michael I, Michael ii Durnay, Otho of, lord of Kalavryta 83 Dyrrachion 84, 93, 135n11

Ferdinand iii, king of Castile, Leon and Galicia 61, 86n10, 88 Ferro, Giovanni 86 feudalism 44, 93 Fiore, Joachim of 40 Flanders 8, 30, 143, 154, 156 See also Baldwin v /viii of Hainaut/ Flanders, Baldwin I of Flanders/ Hainaut, Guy of Dampierre, Baldwin ii of Courtenay, Henry of Flanders/ Hainaut, Yolande of Flanders/Hainaut, Robert of Courtenay, William of Moerbeke, Béthune, Kortrijk Fournival, Robert of 53 Fourth Crusade 1, 140, 150, 152, 170 France 21, 64, 81n2 See also Charlemagne, Philip ii August, Louis ix, Paris, Blanche of Castile, Agnes of France, Champagne Franciscans 40–41, 51, 63, 210–211 See also Benedict of Arezzo, Bonaventura, John Parastron, Thomas Grecus, William of Rubrouck, Constantinople, Joachimism Frederick ii of Hohenstaufen, Holy Roman emperor 47, 53, 63–64, 69, 114, 155 Fresnes, Roger iv of 132

ecclesiastical union 11, 88, 156, 164–169, 173, 183, 212 See also Council of Lyons ii education 11–15, 114–116, 177–178, 181 Egypt 67, 117, 128, 151, 246 Eleonore of Aquitaine, queen of France and England 53

Galata Milo of 193 Constantinopolitan suburb 21, 58, 173, 183, 188, 193

296 gasmouloi 110, 209 Gemistos, Basileios 168n88 Gerard, goldsmith 204–205 Geoffrey i of Villehardouin 78 Geoffrey ii of Villehardouin, prince of Achaia 69, 71 Germanos ii, Byzantine patriarch of Nicaea 162, 165–167 Germanos iii, Byzantine patriarch of Constantinople 15 Glykas, Michael 54 Gothia 144 Grecus, Thomas 168 Greece 144, 151 See also Achaia, Athens, Bodonitza, Epiros, Thebes, Thessaloniki Gregory ii of Cyprus, Byzantine patriarch of Constantinople 187, 189 Gregory ix, pope 32n12, 41, 46, 165, 168, 173 Grosseteste, Robert, bishop of Lincoln 122– 123, 128, 177, 179 Guglielmo i of Verona, triarch of Euboia 40, 60n21, 69, 71, 80, 92n28, 172 Guglielmo ii of Verona, triarch of Euboia 80 Guy of Dampierre, count of Flanders and marquis of Namur 154 Güyük Khan, great khan 68, 232n18 Hainaut County of 140, 142, 156 Yolande of 132 See also Baldwin v /viii of Hainaut/ Flanders, Baldwin i of Flanders/ Hainaut Henry i, king of England 53 Henry ii, Holy Roman emperor 37n22 Henry ii, king of England 53, 114 Henry iii, king of England 88, 156 Henry of Flanders/Hainaut, emperor of Constantinople 8–9, 39, 45, 54, 72–73, 77–78, 82n2, 111, 132–134, 141–145, 150, 152, 154–155, 167, 176, 191, 203–205, 209 Hereford, Roger of 53 Hermes Trismegistos 123–124, 251 Hermingarde of La Roche, queen of Thessaloniki 47

Index Hermocrates 123–125, 250 Herodotos 111, 146 Hervé, bishop of Troyes 163 Hilduinus, abbot of Saint Denis 128–129 Hippocrates 99, 125, 175, 238 Hohenstaufen, Constance of 158 Holland, county of 114 Holobolos, Manuel 35, 183–184, 212 Holy Land 42, 67, 81 See also Antioch, Tripoli, Cyprus, John of Brienne, crusades Holy Roman Empire See Otto ii, Henry ii, Frederick ii, Conrad iv, Alfonso x, Richard of Cornwall Honnecourt, Villard de 206 Honorius iii, pope 53 hiera grammata 10 historiography 131–149 Hohenburg, Berthold of 181, 210 Hugo iv, count of Saint-Pol 45, 132 Hugo of Champlitte, prince of Achaia 150 Hungary, Kingdom of 81n2, 91, 206, 209 See also Margaret of Hungary, Yolande of Courtenay, Pilis Hyginus, Gaius Julius 108 icons 46, 78, 62, 65, 173, 201–203 identity 137–139 Innocent iii, pope 11 Innocent iv, pope 41, 59, 69, 88, 175 Isaac ii Angelos, Byzantine emperor 43, 47, 59, 88, 135, 194–195 Italos, Michael, archbishop of Philippopolis Ivan ii Asen, tsar of Bulgaria 61–62, 69–70, 79, 176, 201 Jergis 100–102 Jerusalem, kingdom of 81 See also John of Brienne John iii Vatatzes, emperor of Nicaea 11, 69–70, 79, 82n2, 89n19, 92, 158, 168, 176, 180, 234 John of Brienne, king of Jerusalem and emperor of Constantinople 5, 17, 32n12, 40, 46, 54, 60–66, 71, 73, 90n21, 141, 148, 152, 155, 202, 209 John of Damascus 98, 117, 185, 239 John of La Roche, duke of Athens 111, 146

Index John, phylax 14–15, 35, 112, 162, 180, 184, 211 Joachimism 40–41, 51 See also Joachim of Fiore Kalavryta 83 Kaloyan, tsar of Bulgaria 153 Kannabos, Nicholas 33 Karystos 111 See also Otho of Cicon Komnena, Anna 146, 178 Kontotheodoros, John 10–11, 15 Konya, Sultanate of 78n75, 91, 173, 209 Koron 75 Kortrijk (Courtrai) 196 Kydenos, Demetrios 212 Laskaris Eudokia 59, 151, 209 See also Theodore i Laskaris, Theodore ii Laskaris Last Emperor prophecy 38–39, 108 Latini, Brunetto 18 Le Bréban John 87 Milo Légiers, imperial chancellor and dean of Saint Sophia 16 liberal arts 9, 115, 177, 220, 250 See also education Liège 132 Lille 132 Limoges, Aimery of, Latin patriarch of Antioch 146 linguistical situation 109–112 literature 149–163 London, William of 130 Louis ix, king of France 17, 21, 30, 64, 67, 81, 89n19, 114, 183 Louis, count of Blois 45 Louis the Pious, Carolingian emperor 37n22, 128 Lucas, hieromonachos of Saint Mamas 168n88 Maerlant, Jacob of 114–116 Macedonia 61, 153 See also Kingdom of Thessaloniki, Rhodopes region

297 Macrobius 98–99, 104–105, 107, 117, 121–122, 182, 239–240, 246 Manfred of Hohenstaufen, king of Sicily 21n55, 82–85, 92–94, 174 Manuel i Komnenos, Byzantine emperor 37, 44, 51, 54–55, 127–130, 135, 144, 146, 150, 165 Manuel Doukas, emperor of Thessaloniki 92n27 Manuel, interpreter 111 Marc, bishop of Preslav 201 Marco ii Sanudo, duke of Naxos 77n72 Margaret of Hungary, Byzantine empress 47, 59 Marguerite of Alsace, countess of Flanders 8 Marseille, Raymond of 37, 118 Mary of Brienne, empress of Constantinople 17, 19–20, 22, 39, 61, 63–64, 66–69, 71–72, 82n2, 85–89, 117, 226–228, 232 Masha’allah ibn Athari 6n2, 100, 107, 112, 117–118, 248 Maugastel, Simon of, Latin patriarch of Constantinople 62–63, 167n86 Maximos the Confessor 128, 185 Mechelen, tables of 119 Medeia 82n2 medicine 175–176 Melnik 61 Merbaka 192 Merry, Geoffrey of 16, 71n54 Mesarites John 10 Nicholas 10–11, 175 Messina, Barthelemy of 174 metal work 205, 211 Metaphrastes, Symeon 128 Metochites, Theodore 181, 196 Michael i Doukas, ruler of Epiros 78, 92n30 Michael ii, Byzantine emperor 128 Michael ii Doukas, ruler of Epiros 21n55, 82–85, 91, 93 Michael viii Paleologos, Byzantine emperor 1, 11, 15, 21, 30n8, 44, 50, 58n19, 83, 91, 111, 147–148, 157, 168–169, 173, 187–188, 193, 197, 213

298 Michiel, Giovanni, Venetian podestà 70 Modon 75 Moerbeke, Wiliam of 110, 123, 169–177, 183, 192, 210–211 Möngke Khan, great khan 68, 232n18 Mongolian empire 39, 81, 176, 209 See also Güyük Khan, Möngke Khan Montigny, Peter of 13 Morosini, Thomas, Latin patriarch of Constantinople 12, 46n48, 78 mosaics 36, 202, 211 Mount Athos 191, 198, 203 Namur, county of 9, 63, 67, 154, 156 Narzotto dalle Carceri, triarch of Euboia 80 Navigaioso family 162, 209 Naxos Duchy of 1, 48, 50, 77n72 See also Angelo Sanudo, Marco ii Sanudo Nazianze, Gregory of 54, 185 Negropont 75 Nicaea Empire of 1, 11, 30, 43, 50, 69, 82–85, 88, 91–93, 97, 139, 164, 170, 172, 174, 180, 199–200, 209 See also John iii Vatatzes, Theodore ii Laskaris, Michael viii Paleologos, George Akropolites, Nikephoros Blemmydes Nicomedia 62 Nikephoritzes (or Nikephoros), hupogrammateus 42, 111, 162, 172, 184, 211, 213 Nimrod, biblical ruler 18, 109, 218 Nyssa, Gregory of 165 occult sciences 175–177 Otho i of La Roche, lord/duke of Athens 47, 78 Otto ii, Holy Roman emperor 37n22 Pachymeres, George 181, 184, 211 painting (monumental, icon, illumination) 198–203 Paleologos, Andronikos 157 Pamphylon 194 papacy 21, 30, 46, 81, 174 See also Innocent iii, Honorius iii, Gregory ix, Innocent iv, Alexander iv,

Index Urban iv, Clement iv, Pelagius, Giovanni Colonna, ecclesiastical union Parastron/Parastos, John 168–169 Paris Abbey of Saint Denis 128–129 See also Hilduinus, William of London College of Constantinople 11 University of 9, 11, 151 passion relics 62 Paphlagonia 77n73 Parthian empire 144 Pechenegs 144 Pelagius, papal legate 167 Pelagonia alliance 21, 50, 57–58, 60, 82–85, 91, 171, 173, 209 Peloponnese See Achaia Peter of Courtenay, emperor of Constantinople 30, 54 Pharsalos 135n11 Philip ii August, king of France 53 Philip of Alsace, count of Flanders 8 Philip of Courtenay, emperor of Constantinople 2, 16–17, 19–22, 29, 32–33, 39–40, 65, 68–69, 71–74, 85–89, 226–228, 230n12, 232n19 Philip of Macedonia 135n11 Philip of Swabia, rex Romanorum 88, 138 Philippi 135n11 Philippopolis, Principality of 1, 61, 135 Philokales, megas doux 77, 162, 167, 209 philosophy 169–175, 180–181 Piacenza, Blasius of 12 Pilis, monastery of (Cistercian) 206 Pisa City of 77n73, 88, 202 Huguccio of 108n40, 138 Fibonacci of 182 Planudes, Maximos 182–183, 211 Plato 99, 107, 116–117, 121–122, 124–125, 236, 242–246 Pliny the Elder 99, 121 Pompeius, Gnaeus 135, 137 Porta, Nicolao della, Latin patriarch of Constantinople 46 Prilep 69 Prodromos, scholar 14n33, 181 Psellos, Michael 180, 185 Pseudo-Aristotle 101, 106–107 Pseudo-Dionysius 117, 126–130, 247–248

Index Pseudo-Ptolemy 103–104 Pseudo-Turpin 132, 134 Ptolemy (Klaudios Ptolemaios) 99, 101–103, 107, 117–119, 175, 235, 238–239, 250–252 See also Pseudo-Ptolemy Pyrros, Demetrios 42, 162 Raidestos 77n73 Renart, Jean 134 Renaud of Dammartin, count of Boulogne 132 rethoric 116–117, 210 Rhodopes region 1, 61, 139 See also Melnik, Tsepaina Richard i, king of England 114 Richard of Cornwall, rex Romanorum 34, 88 Robert of Courtenay, emperor of Constantinople 9, 32n12, 45–46, 73, 117, 141, 144, 151–152, 156, 191, 206 Roger ii, king of Sicily 37n22 Rubrouck, William of 176 Russia See Anthony, archbishop of Novgorod; Vladimir, bishop of Polotsk Sahl ibn Bisr 100–101, 123, 250 Sainte-Mènehould, Macaire of 77n73 Saint-Maure, Benoît of 153, 158, 162 Saint Samson, Order of 176, 190–191 Saint Sava 200–201 Saint Victor, Hugo of 55 Salona, lordship of 48 Salymbria 21 Salza, Hermann of 63–64 Santalla, Hugo of 121 Santiago, Order of 81 science See medicine, liberal arts, occult sciences, philosophy, theology Scot Eriugena, John 99, 128 Scot, Michael 53 sculpture 206–207 senate / senators 32–34, 249 Senlis, Nicolas of 132 Serbia 91, 97, 199 See also Stephen i Nemanja, Saint Sava, Zica Seventh Crusade 42, 81 Sevilla, Isidore of 99, 107, 117 Sevilla, John of 6n2, 100, 118

299 Sézanne, Peter of 173 Sicily, Kingdom of 53, 81, 174 See Roger ii, Frederick ii of Hohenstaufen, Conrad iv, Conradin, Manfred of Hohenstaufen, Charles of Anjou, Barthelemy of Messina Sidon, Dorotheus of 119–121, 248–249 Siena 202 Simon the Constantinopolitan 169, 172, 180, 183 Simplikios, philosopher 122–123 Skamandros region 14n33 Sophonias, monk 183 Sorel, Nicolas of 173 Stephen i Nemanja, king of Serbia 141, 199 Stephen of Blois, king of England 53 Strategopoulos, Alexios 43, 188, 212 Strez, ruler of Prosek 61 Synkellos, Michael 128–129 Tempier, Stephen, bishop of Paris 55, 102 Terah, father of Abraham 218 Teutonic Order 63 Thebes Dominican convent 171–172, 174 Hephaestios of 120 Theodore i Laskaris, emperor of Nicaea 59, 117, 136, 151 Theodore ii Eirenikos, Byzantine patriarch of Nicaea 162, 167 Theodore ii Laskaris, emperor of Nicaea 31, 89n19, 158, 181, 210 Theodore Doukas, emperor of Thessaloniki 92n27 theology 163–169 Thessaloniki City of 43, 135n11, 200, 205 Kingdom of 1, 47, 61, 69, 78–79, 85, 91–92, 133, 172 See also Boniface of Montferrat, Demetrios of Montferrat, Guglielmo i of Verona, Theodore Doukas, Manuel Doukas, Epiros Thrace 47, 50, 62, 82n2, 144, 195 See also Adrianople, Aphameia, Athyra, Derkos, Medeia, Pamphylon, Raidestos, Salymbria, Tzouroulon, Vizye Thuin, Jean of 132 Tiepolo, Giacomo, Venetian podestà 78n75

300 Tivoli, Plato of 103 Toledo, tables of 119 Toucy Family 71, 73, 152, 154, 209 Anselin 35–36, 43, 59–60, 83, 109, 161 Narjot i, imperial regent 35, 60, 62, 117, 161, 173 Narjot ii 43, 60, 82n2 Philip of, imperial regent 29, 35, 43, 60, 82n2, 161 Trebizond, Empire of 81, 200 Tripoli County of 50, 82n2 Philip of 53 Troad region 14n33, 176, 180 Troy 134, 153, 158 Troyes 163 Tsepaina 61 Tzetzes, John 121 Tzouroulon 82n2, 90 Urban iv, pope 91–92 Vacqueras, Raimbaut of 149–150, 152 Valenciennes, Henry of 28, 39, 77–78, 131, 133, 135–137, 139–140, 145, 150–152, 177, 205, 210–211 Venice City of 64, 142, 145, 155, 203 Republic of 32, 45–46, 48–49, 59, 62, 75–81, 86, 91, 173, 209 Merchants 17, 62n27, 72, 74, 78, 86, 155, 202, 211 See also Enrico Dandolo, Rainerio Zeno, Marino Zeno, Giacomo Tiepolo, Giovanni Michiel, Thomas Morosini, Giovanni Ferro, Naxos

Index vernacular 110–115, 132, 134, 136, 138, 143, 146, 152–153, 157–162, 187 Veroli, Leonardo da 153–154, 158, 162–163 Villehardouin Family 152 Geoffrey of, imperial marshal and chronicler 28, 71n54, 77n72, 112, 131, 133, 135–140, 153, 210–211 See also Geoffrey ii of Villehardouin, William ii of Villehardouin Viterbo 174 Vizye 82n2 Vladimir, bishop of Polotsk 201 Walter, dean of Theotokos Panechrantos William, archbishop of Tyre 10n15, 61, 141, 153, 170n96 William ii of Villehardouin, prince of Achaia 21, 48–49, 79–80, 82–85, 91, 152, 171, 173–174 William vi, marquis of Montferrat 47 William vii, marquis of Montferrat 90 Yolande of Courtenay, queen of Hungary 206 Yolande of Flanders/Hainaut, empress of Constantinople 8, 30, 144, 150 Yolande/Irene of Montferrat, Byzantine empress 47, 161 Yonites, son of Noah 18, 109, 218 Zeno, Marino, Venetian podestà 45, 78n75 Zeno, Rainerio, doge of Venice 86 Zica monastery 200–201 Zonaras, John 54, 184–185, 210 Zweikaiserproblem 29