Metaphrasis in Byzantine Literature (Byzantioc; Studies in Byzantine History and Civilization, 17) (English and Ancient Greek Edition) 9782503593449, 2503593445

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Metaphrasis in Byzantine Literature

BYZANTIOς Studies in Byzantine History and Civilization

Volume 17 Series Editors Michael Altripp Lars Martin Hoffmann Christos Stavrakos Editorial & Advisory Board Michael Featherstone (CNRS, Paris) Bojana Krsmanović (Serbian Academy of Sciences and Arts, Belgrade) Antonio Rigo (University of Venice) Horst Schneider (University of Munich) Juan Signes Codoñer (Universidad Complutense de Madrid) Peter Van Deun (University of Leuven) Nino Zchomelidse (Johns Hopkins University)

Metaphrasis in Byzantine Literature

Edited by Anne P. Alwis, Martin Hinterberger & Elisabeth Schiffer

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© 2021, Brepols Publishers n. v., Turnhout, Belgium. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise without the prior permission of the publisher. D/2021/0095/68 ISBN 978-2-503-59344-9 eISBN 978-2-503-59345-6 DOI 10.1484/M.SBHC-EB.5.122576 ISSN 1371-7677 eISSN 1371-8401 Printed in the EU on acid-free paper.

Table of Contents

Abbreviations

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Introduction Anne P. Alwis – Martin Hinterberger – Elisabeth Schiffer9 Rewriting in Byzantium: Standardization and Metaphrasis Christian Høgel29 The First Metaphrast: John, Bishop of Sardis Daria Resh43 Observations on the Methods of Metaphrastic Rewriting: The Case of the Passio of St James (BHG 773) Laura Franco71 Rewriting the Life of St John Chrysostom in Tenth-Century Byzantium Elisabeth Schiffer87 Metaphraseis as a Key for the Understanding of Different Levels in Byzantine Vocabulary Martin Hinterberger109 Byzantine Chronicles and Metaphrasis Staffan Wahlgren127 The Alexander Romance and Metaphrasis A Case Study: Alexander’s Encounter with the Persian Ambassadors Corinne Jouanno139 Emotions, Miracles, and the Mechanics of Psychology in Nikephoros Gregoras’ Lives of Empress Theophano and Patriarch Anthony II Kauleas Lev Lukhovitskiy155 Index175

Abbreviations

AASS ARCBH BHG CPG L LBG LSJ ODB PG PLP PmbZ

Acta Sanctorum (Antwerp – Brussels, 1643–1925) The Ashgate Research Companion to Byzantine Hagiography, ed. S. Efthymiadis, 2 vols (Farnham – Burlington, 2011–2014) Bibliotheca Hagiographica Graeca, 3rd ed., ed. F. Halkin, 3 vols, Novum Auctarium (Brussels, 1957–84) Clavis Patrum Graecorum, eds, M. Geerard, J. Noret et. al., 5 vols, Supplementum (Turnhout, 1974–2018) G. W. H. Lampe, A Patristic Greek Lexicon (Oxford, 1961–68) E. Trapp et al., Lexikon zur byzantinischen Gräzität (Vienna, 1994–2017) H. G. Liddell – R. Scott – H. Stuart Jones – R. McKenzie, A GreekEnglish Lexicon (Oxford, 1925–40), Revised Supplement, eds, P. G. W. Glare and A. A. Thompson (Oxford, 1996) The Oxford Dictionary of Byzantium, eds, A. P. Kazhdan et al., 3 vols (New York – Oxford, 1991) Patrologiae cursus completus. Series graeca, ed. J.-P. Migne, 161 vols (Paris, 1857–66) Prosopographisches Lexikon der Palaiologenzeit, eds, E. Trapp, R. Walther, H.-V. Beyer et al., 12 vols (Vienna, 1976–96) Prosopographie der mittelbyzantinischen Zeit. Erste Abteilung (641–867). Zweite Abteilung (867–1025), eds, R.-J. Lilie et al. (Berlin, 1999–2013)

Anne P. Alwis – M a rtin Hinterberger – E lis a bet h S ch iffer

Introduction

Byzantine authors employed a wide variety of processes to rewrite their literary works. Amongst these, the phenomenon of metaphrasis deserves prominence for the range of genres in which it is employed and for its linguistic and ideological versatility. In the last forty years, research connected to metaphrasis has developed into a broad and flourishing field. More recently, vigorous interest in this area has manifested in the organisation of conferences and workshops as well as research projects.1 This volume is a contribution to ongoing scholarly debate and originated from a round table held at the 23rd International Congress of Byzantine Studies in Belgrade (August 2016).2 The subject of metaphrasis, that is, the transposition of a certain text to a different stylistic and/or linguistic level, seemed to be fully in tune with the official motto of the Congress, “Byzantium – A World of Changes.” In the following, we provide a brief overview of general trends in recent research on metaphrasis and illustrate various avenues for future exploration.

What Exactly is Metaphrasis? Since antiquity, the label “metaphrasis” has tended to be a blanket term covering the rewriting of texts in the same, and sometimes different, language from the original.3 This process is deeply rooted in the Byzantine higher



1 See, for example, Metaphrasis: A Byzantine Concept of Rewriting and Its Hagiographical Products, The Medieval Mediterranean 125, eds, S. Constantinou and C. Høgel (Leiden, 2020), as well as the research project(s) presented by M. Hinterberger in this volume. 2 Not all Congress presentations are included in this volume, and other contributions were added. 3 See, for example, Marianos’ recasting of Theokritos’ and Apollonios Rhodios’ hexametrical works into iambs, in M. Hinterberger, “Between Simplification and Elaboration: Byzantine Metaphraseis Compared,” in Textual Transmission in Byzantium: between Textual Criticism and Quellenforschung, Lectio 2, eds, J. Signes Codoñer and I. Pérez Martín (Turnhout, 2014), pp. 33–60, at 34 (with more examples). Metaphrasis in Byzantine Literature, ed. by Anne P. Alwis, Martin Hinterberger and Elisabeth Schiffer, Studies in Byzantine History and Civilization, 17 (Turnhout, 2021), pp. 9–28 FHG10.1484/M.SBHC-EB.5.123035

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educational system and, consequently, in its literature.4 The three types of progymnasma – mythos, chreia, and gnome – basically constitute exercises in adapting stories and rewriting them from one stylistic register to another. For example, a fable (mythos) can be told and retold in manifold ways and there is no fixed text.5 Furthermore, metaphrasis is not clearly distinguished from paraphrasis.6 Indeed, both terms may actually have had the same meaning.7 Each continued to be used throughout the Byzantine era, although metaphrasis was perhaps more commonly employed.8 It should be made clear that in modern languages, the term “paraphrase” is frequently used for various Byzantine kinds of rewriting, while the term “metaphrase” is more or less unknown. The association between the rewritten and the older text can customarily be described in terms of repetition, omission/reduction/abbreviation, addition/amplification and substitution/replacement.9 When examining these various modes of rewriting, modern literary theory becomes a beneficial tool. In Byzantine literary studies, the most widely-cited theorists are Gérard Genette and Roman Jakobson. Their finely tuned terminologies are helpful 4 M. Lauxtermann, Byzantine Poetry from Pisides to Geometres. Texts and Contexts, 2, Wiener Byzantinistische Studien 24.2, (Vienna, 2019), p. 227. 5 Lauxtermann ibid., p. 226. 6 The Historisches Wörterbuch der Rhetorik, for example, dedicates an entry to “Paraphrase” whereas “Metaphrase” does not have an entry. However, it mentions that differentiating between these terms of equivalence causes difficulties from classical rhetoric onwards, see J. Kilian in Historisches Wörterbuch der Rhetorik, 6 (Tübingen, 2003), pp. 556–62, at 561. Similarly, Andrew Faulkner, discussing the rendering of a biblical text into verse in early Christian literature uses paraphrase, and mentions metaphrasis exclusively as the title of a work, see A. Faulkner, “Paraphrase and Metaphrase,” in The Oxford Handbook of Early Christian Biblical Interpretation, eds, P. M. Blowers and P. W. Martens (Oxford, 2019), pp. 210–20, esp. at 216. 7 See the ancient and Byzantine definitions analysed in J. Signes Codoñer, “Towards a Vocabulary of Rewriting in Byzantium,” in Textual Transmission in Byzantium: between Textual Criticism and Quellenforschung, Lectio 2, eds, J. Signes Codoñer and I. Pérez Martín (Turnhout, 2014), pp. 61–90, and D. Resh, “Toward a Byzantine Definition of Metaphrasis,” Greek, Roman and Byzantine Studies 55 (2015), 754–87. Before the twelfth century, the development of metaphrasis within the hagiographical genre is not reflected in theoretical texts. The famous definition of metaphrasis that refers to Symeon the Metaphrast and appears as an interpolation in George Choiroboskos’ treatise can now be safely dated to the second half of the twelfth century (see Resh ibid., 780–81). 8 According to Lauxtermann, Byzantine Poetry, 2, p. 226, there is no distinction between the terms metaphrasis and paraphrasis but only a diachronical development: paraphrasis is more in use in ancient texts whereas Byzantine texts speak more about metaphrasis. For a different opinion, see Signes Codoñer, “Towards a Vocabulary of Rewriting,” esp. pp. 78–80. 9 When talking about metaphrasis we usually focus on the latter two, but the other two modes are equally essential (a repetition rate of approximately 30% can be established both for the metaphraseis in Symeon’s Menologion and the fourteenth-century metaphraseis of historiographical texts: see Hinterberger in the present volume). According to Theon and Ps.-Choiroboskos, metaphrasis consists of a mixture of variation, amplification, and abridgement (see Lauxtermann, Byzantine Poetry, 2, p. 226).

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for a more detailed analysis of the various rewriting processes connected to the topic of metaphrasis.10 It goes without saying that the various components of metaphrasis cannot be neatly separated within a rewritten text. In fact, the mixture of these modes may constitute the very essence of metaphrasis in comparison with other forms of rewriting. The hagiographical epitome, metaphrasis’ “poor relative” as Marina Detoraki puts it, is characterised by its focus on summarising and abbreviating, although other modes are not totally excluded.11 The same is true for the historiographical epitome as the case of the abridgement of George Pachymeres’ History illustrates. According to its editor, this text is also slightly “metaphrasing.”12 Here, this means substituting certain terms with simpler ones. Lastly, it is important to note that Herbert Hunger developed a sophisticated system of typographical marking in order to indicate the relationship between the metaphrasis and its model text at certain points within the text (for example, abbreviation, omission, addition, replacement or repetition).13 In editions of hagiographical metaphraseis, passages repeating the model text are typographically differentiated from the rest of the text. However, the question of how to edit a metaphrasis adequately has still not been solved and there may be no single answer that is applicable to all cases.14

10 See, for example, Genette’s terminology (hypertext, hypotext, amplification/augmentation, condensation/reduction, extension, expansion/dilation, substitution/replacement) in B. Caseau, “La lettre de Jésus à Abgar d’Édesse: appropriations et transformations,” in Remanier, métaphraser – fonctions et techniques de la réécriture dans le monde byzantin, eds, S. Marjanović-Dušanić and B. Flusin (Belgrade, 2011), pp. 13–44, at 14–15. John Davis, Stephanos Efthymiadis, Christian Høgel and Daria Resh adopted Jakobson’s terminology, see J. Davis, “Anna Komnene and Niketas Choniates ‘translated’: the fourteenth-century Byzantine metaphrases,” in History as Literature in Byzantium. Papers from the Fortieth Spring Symposium of Byzantine Studies, University of Birmingham, April 2007, Society for the Promotion of Byzantine Studies 15, ed. R. Macrides (Farnham – Burlington, 2010), pp. 55–70, particularly p. 57; S. Efthymiadis, “Une hagiographie classicisante et son auteur: la vie longue de Sainte Thomaϊs de Lesbos (BHG 2455),” in Pour une poétique de Byzance. Hommage à Vassilis Katsaros, Dossiers Byzantins 16, eds, S. Efthymiadis, Ch. Messis, P. Odorico and I. Polémis (Paris, 2015), pp. 113–31; C. Høgel, “Symeon the Metaphrast and the Metaphrastic Movement,” pp. 181–82; and Resh, “Toward a Byzantine definition,” p. 756. Pertinent scholarship from related disciplines such as medieval Latin or Slavonic hagiography would also be useful (see Caseau and Marjanović-Dušanić as mentioned). For a view that proposes a critique of Genette in this context, see A. P. Alwis, Narrating Martyrdom: Rewriting Virgin Martyrs in Byzantium (Liverpool, 2020), pp. 9–11. 11 M. Detoraki, “Un parent pauvre de la réécriture hagiographique: l’abrégé,” in Remanier, métaphraser – fonctions et techniques de la réécriture – fonctions et techniques de la réécriture dans le monde byzantin, eds, S. Marjanović-Dušanić and B. Flusin (Belgrade, 2011), pp. 71–83. 12 See A. Failler, La version brève des Relations Historiques de Georges Pachymérès, Archives de l’Orient Chrétien 17 and 18, 2 vols (Paris, 2001), pp. xii–xiii. 13 H. Hunger, Anonyme Metaphrase zu Anna Komnene, Alexias XI–XIII. Ein Beitrag zur Erschließung der byzantinischen Umgangssprache, Wiener Byzantinistische Studien 15 (Vienna, 1981), p. 29. 14 See the discussion in Hinterberger, “Between Simplification and Elaboration,” pp. 51–56.

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Metaphrasis and Hagiography Hagiographical metaphrasis is closely associated with the work of Symeon the Metaphrast.15 In the 970/980s, Symeon compiled a collection of 148 hagiographical texts, typically martyria and vitae, which were mostly adaptations or new versions of older texts. Only a small number of these, particularly those authored by recognised authorities (such as Athanasios of Alexandria, Gregory of Nyssa or Asterios of Amasia), were incorporated into the collection without almost any change. In contrast to Symeon’s model texts, his metaphraseis primarily constitute stylistic elaborations, transpositions to a higher stylistic level, which closely follow their models. Thus, in most cases, the new version closely follows the overall structure and syntax of the older version, but replaces lexical items and, to a lesser degree, syntactical features. In some instances, however, the relationship between metaphrasis and model is more remote and a word for word correspondence cannot be established. This is perhaps due to missing intermediary links, a possibility that we should bear in mind, taking into account the fragmentary textual transmission. Symeon seems to be the apogee of a long development within Byzantine hagiography.16 The rewriting of hagiographical texts can be observed at least as early as the beginning of the seventh century, such as the enkomion of Anastasios the Persian by George of Pisidia, which is based on the saint’s martyr acts.17 Around the end of the eighth, or beginning of the ninth, century, the rewriting of hagiographical texts seems to have gradually gained importance. This trend can be connected to the general stylistic and ideological upgrading of texts that related the lives, deeds, and deaths of saints. It is possible that the intellectual circle around the learned patriarch Tarasios (730–806) was involved in some way since the first hagiographical texts explicitly entitled

15 On Symeon and his work, see, generally, C. Høgel, Symeon Metaphrastes. Rewriting and Canonization (Copenhagen, 2002) and id., “Symeon the Metaphrast and the Metaphrastic Movement,” in ARCBH, 2, pp. 181–96; see however also PmbZ 27504, where it has been argued again that Symeon Logothetes and Symeon Metaphrastes are one and the same person. The way Symeon’s Menologion came into being is still open to discussion. We regard Symeon as the coordinator of a group of metaphrasts working on the project but, for reasons of convenience, refer to the Menologion as Symeon’s work. 16 Although research in pre-Metaphrastic metaphraseis has recently gained importance (see V. Déroche, “Les réécritures de la Vie de Jean l’Aumônier de Léontios de Néapolis (BHG 886),” in Remanier, métaphraser – fonctions et techniques de la réécriture – fonctions et techniques de la réécriture dans le monde byzantin, eds, S. Marjanović-Dušanić and B. Flusin (Belgrade, 2011), pp. 61–70; P. Cavallero, “Style et idéologie. De la version longue à la version brève de la Vie de Jean l’Aumônier, due à Léonce de Néapolis,” Byzantinische Zeitschrift 113 (2020), 1–34; and Schiffer in this volume), Symeon the Metaphrast’s collection of hagiographical texts is still the dominant phenomenon in the history of hagiographical metaphrasis. 17 These texts were edited by B. Flusin, Saint Anastase le Perse et l’histoire de la Palestine au début du VIIe siècle, 2 vols (Paris, 1992).

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“metaphrasis” that have come down to us were composed by John of Sardis, an erudite cleric who probably belonged to Tarasios’ circle.18 Another important figure in the history of metaphrasis is Niketas David the Paphlagonian, who flourished in the early tenth century and who composed more than fifty hagiographical texts (almost exclusively enkomia), which were based on older texts belonging to genres other than the enkomion.19 Although none of Niketas’ adapted versions of saints’ vitae are entitled as metaphrasis, at least ten of his compositions were utilised for Symeon’s Menologion; indeed, two works, on George the martyr and Gregory of Agrigentum, were incorporated, unaltered, the former with a new prologue.20 Curiously, not all metaphraseis are characterised as such by the Byzantines. Titles such as Metaphrasis tou hagiou X or Metaphrasis eis ton bion/eis to martyrion tou hagiou X seem to have been widespread throughout the ninth and tenth centuries, and they frequently appear in pre-Metaphrastic collections.21 Because of the Menologion’s apparent dominance almost immediately after its creation, texts entitled as metaphrasis seem to have significantly diminished (along with hagiography in general) after the tenth century. Even though this corpus is called the Metaphraseis,22 intriguingly, its individual texts are simply called martyrion, bios, or hypomnema.

18 See S. Efthymiadis, “John of Sardis and the Metaphrasis of the Passio of St Nikephoros the Martyr,” Rivista di studi bizantini e neoellenici n. s. 28 (1991), 23–44 and Resh in the present volume. However, the earliest manuscript that has come down to us transmitting a text entitled “metaphrasis,” Paris, Bibliothèque nationale de France, MS Par. gr. 1452 (at fol. 77v), is considered to have been written in the late tenth century (see Resh in the present volume, note 24). Whether this was the original title or not, remains open. 19 S. A. Paschalides, Νικήτας Δαβὶδ Παφλαγών. Συμβολὴ στὴ μελέτη τῆς προσωπογραφίας καὶ τῆς ἁγιολογικῆς γραμματείας τῆς προμεταφραστικῆς περιόδου, Βυζαντινὰ Κείμενα καὶ Μελέται 28 (Thessalonica, 1999) and Flusin, “Vers la Métaphrase,” in Remanier, métaphraser – fonctions et techniques de la réécriture dans le monde byzantin, eds, S. Marjanović-Dušanić and B. Flusin (Belgrade, 2011), pp. 85–99. 20 Paschalides, Νικήτας Δαβὶδ Παφλαγών, pp. 155–56 and Høgel, Rewriting and Canonization, p. 57. On Niketas’ reworking of the vita of Gregory of Agrigentum, see also C. Crimi, “Note sulla Vita di Gregorio di Agrigento nella riscrittura di Niceta David Paflagone (BHG 708),” Sicilia Antiqua 13 (2016 = Studi in memoria di Giacomo Manganaro), 59–62 as well as D. Krausmüller, “Fainting fits and their causes: a topos in two Middle Byzantine metaphraseis by Nicetas the Paphlagonian and Nicephoros Ouranos,” Golden Horn 9 (2001–02), https://goudenhoorn.com/2016/07/29/fainting-fits-and-their-causes-a-toposin-two-middle-byzantine-metaphraseis-by-nicetas-the-paphlagonian-and-nicephorusouranos (accessed 2020–05–28). On the adaptation of the martyrion of George, see R. Volk, “Das Fortwirken der Legende von Barlaam und Ioasaph in der byzantinischen Hagiographie, insbesondere in den Werken des Symeon Metaphrastes,” Jahrbuch der Österreichischen Byzantinistik 53 (2003), 127–70, at 151–54. 21 For a discussion of these, see Flusin, “Vers la Métaphrase,” pp. 88–93. The majority of these manuscripts date to the eleventh century. 22 For example, in Eustathios Boilas’ testament (a. 1059, ed. P. Lemerle 1977, 25.154) and Michael Attaleiates’ typikon (a. 1077, ed. P. Gautier 1981, 93.127), to name but a few early attestations. A single volume out of the ten-volume set is called, for example, μετάφρασις

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Apart from John of Sardis, Niketas David the Paphlagonian, and Symeon the Metaphrast, only a restricted number of practitioners of hagiographical metaphrasis are known by name. Nikephoros Ouranos produced two hagiographical metaphraseis, perhaps imitating Symeon, with whom he was on friendly terms, but, interestingly, he also composed a military treatise based on older models.23 However, generally speaking, the vast majority of middle-Byzantine metaphraseis are anonymous, and these texts have barely been touched by modern scholarship. During the Palaiologan period, and especially during its early phase, a significant number of well-known authors produced texts based on older models: George of Cyprus, Constantine Akropolites,24 Maximos Planoudes and Nikephoros Gregoras are the most prolific.25 In these cases, however, the βαμβυκίνη σεπτέμβριος καὶ ὀκτώβριος (ibid., 93.125) or ἡ μετάφρασις τοῦ νοεμβρίου μηνός in the Patmos Inventory of the year 1200 (ed. Ch. Astruc 1981, 23.80–81). See also Høgel, Rewriting and Canonization, p. 152. 23 On Nikephoros Ouranos’ life and work, see the summary with plenty of bibliography in A. M. Taragna, “Niceforo Urano (Tact. 119) metafrasta di Siriano Magistro. Edizione sinottica et traduzione delle norme per la guerra navale,” Medioevo Greco 17 (2017), 211–39. Vincent Déroche recently pointed out again that Nikephoros Ouranos should be taken into consideration as a Metaphrast, see V. Déroche, “L’âge d’or de l’hagiographie: nouvelles formes et nouvelles tendances,” in Proceedings of the 23rd International Congress of Byzantine Studies. Belgrade 22–27 August 2016. Plenary Papers, pp. 35–39, at 36; see also Krausmüller, “Fainting fits.” 24 In post-Byzantine times, because of his particularly rich production of revised hagiographical texts, Akropolites earned the honorary title of a “New Metaphrast” (νέος μεταφραστής). To the best of our knowledge, this epithet is first attested in the manuscript Vatican City, Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana, MS Vat. gr. 1147, fol. 53r, a manuscript written by Nicholas Sophianos in the first half of the sixteenth century. The epithet is part of the title of Akropolites’ Miraculum S. Theodori (BHG 1765n, see AASS Novembris IV p. 72). It appears that this title was mentioned on the basis of this manuscript by L. Allatius in De Symeonum scriptis diatriba (Paris, 1664), p. 109. The epithet was finally disseminated by A. Ehrhard through its use in Krumbacher’s, Geschichte der byzantinischen Litteratur (Munich, 1897), p. 204. Beginning with Ehrhard’s use, the original context of the epithet as part of a hagiographical text’s title has been lost and it has been used autonomously, without indication of its source. 25 See, generally, A.-M. Talbot, “Hagiography in Late Byzantium (1204–1453),” in ARCBH, 1, pp. 173–95; M. Hinterberger, “Hagiographische Metaphrasen. Ein möglicher Weg der Annäherung an die Literarästhetik der frühen Palaiologenzeit,” in Imitatio – aemulatio – variatio. Akten des internationalen wissenschaftlichen Symposions zur byzantinischen Sprache und Literatur (Wien 22.-25. Oktober 2008), Veröffentlichungen zur Byzanzforschung 21, eds, A. Rhoby and E. Schiffer (Vienna, 2010), pp. 137–51; id., “Die Konstantinsvita im Späten Byzanz. Vorläufige Ergebnisse einer Gegenüberstellung palaiologenzeitlicher Metaphrasen,” Graeco-Latina Brunensia 16 (2012), 41–59 and E. Paraskeuopoulou, Το Αγιολογικό και Ομιλητικό Έργο του Νικηφόρου Γρηγορά (Thessalonica 2013). See also the recent editions of Palaiologan metaphraseis by Μ. Kalatzi, “Un discours inédit de Constantin Acropolite en l’honneur des saints martyrs Florus et Laurus,” Byzantion 71 (2001), 505–16; E. Paraskeuopoulou, “An Unpublished Discourse of Nikephoros Gregoras on Saint Demetrios, George and Theodore (BHG 2427). A Critical Edition,” Parekbolai 2 (2012), 49–76 and I. Taxidis, “L’éloge de Saint Eudocime par Constantin Acropolite (BHG 606),” Parekbolai 3 (2013), 5–44.

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purely linguistic aspect of rewriting is less in evidence than for the Metaphrastic Menologion and its hypotexts. Moreover, these Palaiologan texts are never called metaphraseis in the manuscripts. Their most prominent external characteristic is a generic transformation from a martyrion or bios to an enkomion, as in the case of Niketas the Paphlagonian’s adaptations. Finally, metaphrasis also produces another kind of generic transformation, which, occasionally, can be encountered in middle-Byzantine hagiography: the rewriting of a prose text into verse.26

Metaphrasis and Historiography During the fourteenth century, simplified versions of older, highly classicising, texts were produced, namely Anna Komnene’s Alexiad, Niketas Choniates’ History and Nikephoros Blemmydes’ speculum principis (Basilikos andrias). Although historiographical writing had occasionally been associated with metaphrasis in previous centuries,27 it was Herbert Hunger who established the denomination “metaphrasis,” instead of the more common “paraphrase” for these texts.28 The reworking of Nikephoros Blemmydes’ Basilikos andrias, co-authored by the patriarchal officer George Galesiotes and his relative George Oinaiotes (first half/middle of the fourteenth century),29 is the sole metaphrasis of a rhetorical text known to us and, furthermore, is the only work in this group

26 K. Demoen, “John Geometres’ Iambic Life of Saint Panteleemon. Text, Genre and Metaphrastic Style,” in Philomathestatos. Studies in Greek and Byzantine Texts Presented to Jacques Noret for his Sixty-Fifth Birthday, Orientalia Lovaniensia Analecta 137, eds, B. Janssens, B. Roosen and P. Van Deun (Leuven, 2004), pp. 165–84 and id., “Metaphrasis and Versification: The Paradeisos as a Reworking of Apophthegmata Patrum,” in Metaphrasis: A Byzantine Concept of Rewriting and Its Hagiographical Products, The Medieval Mediterranean 125, eds, S. Constantinou and C. Høgel (Leiden, 2020), pp. 202–23; Lauxtermann, Byzantine Poetry, 2, p. 228 with notes on 21–24. On late Byzantine metrical metaphraseis, see A. Gioffreda and A. Rhoby, “Die metrische Psalmenmetaphrase des Manuel Philes. Präliminarien zu einer kritischen Edition,” Medioevo Greco 20 (2020), 119–41. 27 The first time metaphrasis appears in connection with a historiographical work is in the Septuagint, in 2 Maccabees 2.31. In the foreword to the second part of this work, the author explains that his text is the revised and abbreviated version of a longer work. While the original contains more details, the aim of his metaphrasis is to provide a concise summary of the events. Thus, this specific metaphrasis appears primarily as an epitome. 28 Hunger, Anonyme Metaphrase zu Anna Komnene, p. 7. He refers to Symeon the Metaphrast and follows Adriana Pignani’s opinion concerning the reworking of the Basilikos andrias: see A. Pignani, “Parafrasi o Metafrasi (a proposito della Statua Regia di Niceforo Blemmida),” Acta dell’Accademia Pontaniana n.s. 24 (1976), 219–25, particularly p. 225. She states that the term metaphrasis (in its Byzantine sense) is more appropriate than paraphrasis (in its Byzantine sense) for the characterisation of texts such as the reworking of Blemmydes’ Basilikos andrias. 29 On their biographical dates, see H. Hunger and I. Ševčenko, Des Nikephoros Blemmydes Βασιλικὸς Ἀνδριάς und dessen Metaphrase von Georgios Galesiotes und Georgios Oinaiotes. Ein weiterer Beitrag zum Verständnis der byzantinischen Schrift-Koine, Wiener Byzantinistische Studien 18 (Vienna, 1988), pp. 31–35.

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that appears with its original title (λόγος περὶ βασιλείας μεταφρασθεὶς πρὸς τὸ σαφέστερον).30 Given that this text shows many similarities with the metaphraseis of the Alexiad and Choniates’ History, it is likely that the latter may have been created in the same cultural environment and at approximately the same time.31 The metaphrastic character of these simplified versions becomes apparent when we compare their relationship with their models to the relationship between the texts produced by Symeon the Metaphrast and their respective models. Like the compositions included in the Metaphrastic Menologion, the new versions of classicising historiographical and rhetorical texts closely follow their respective paradigm in terms of macrostructure and syntax, while the most conspicuous difference lies in vocabulary. It is interesting to note that the same pairs of corresponding words frequently appear in the juxtaposition of Symeon and his models as well as in the historiographical metaphraseis and their models.32 It was Ihor Ševčenko who first pointed out the particular significance of metaphraseis for the understanding of stylistic differentiation in Byzantine literature, because the juxtaposition of metaphrasis and model text reveals the essential difference between high- and low-style literature in Byzantium.33 The linguistic aspect of metaphrasis is exceptionally pronounced in historiographical metaphraseis because there is a profound distance between the model texts’ highly classicising Greek and the metaphraseis’ simple koine. Conversely, in terms of lexical and syntactical correspondences, the stylistic and/or linguistic gap between model texts and metaphraseis is significantly narrower in the rewriting process that led to Symeon’s Menologion. Nevertheless, there are many common features in the historiographical (downgrading) and the hagiographical (mostly upgrading) process.34 Symeon’s standardised language is classicising but it is not taken to the mannered extremes of Anna Komnene and Niketas Choniates. Interestingly, the language of Symeon’s models is not as influenced by living language as we find in the language of

30 Ibid. p. 45. Almost the same addition, εἰς τὸ σαφέστερον, appears in Gennadios Scholarios’ metaphrasis of a poem by Synesios of Cyrene (ed. Petit 1928–36, 4, pp. 369–71). 31 In comparison, the Book of Syntipas (early twelfth century) was rewritten during the thirteenth century in a similar simplifying way. 32 See Hinterberger in this volume. 33 I. Ševčenko, “Levels of Style in Byzantine Prose,” Jahrbuch der Österreichischen Byzantinistik 31.1 (1981), 289–312, particularly at 309–10. It is for this reason in particular that the metaphraseis of historiographical texts have attracted the avid interest of linguists (see, for example, G. Horrocks, Greek. A History of the Language and its Speakers, 2nd ed. [Chichester, 2010], pp. 264–68). 34 Recently, N. Churik, “Greek Explicating Greek: A Study of Metaphrase Language and Style,” in Trends and Turning Points: Constructing the Late Antique and Byzantine World, Medieval Mediterranean 117, eds, M. Kinloch and A. MacFarlane (Leiden – Boston, 2019), 66–82, suggested that the common ground between various metaphraseis that can be observed through the centuries is due to a common educational and lexicographical vocabulary. See also Hinterberger in this volume.

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Palaiologan historiographical metaphraseis. However, we need to consider the centuries that separate these groups of texts and the linguistic changes that took place during this time, although, in all probability, these changes were not fundamental.35 Once again, the dominating position of the Metaphrastic Menologion slightly distorts our general image of hagiographical metaphraseis. This can be seen, for instance, from the following example: in comparison to Symeon’s reworking, the linguistic upgrading undertaken by Nikephoros Ouranos in his metaphrasis of the vita of Symeon Stylites the Younger36 is actually much greater than the upgrading we observe in the Metaphrastic Menologion.37 The reason is that Symeon Stylites’ older vita is written in a very simple koine.38 Surprisingly, and perhaps inexplicably, there are no texts with the same linguistic level as Symeon Stylites’ original vita among the model texts of the Metaphrastic Menologion.

Other Genres As well as these two “main types” of metaphrasis, hagiographical and historiographical, the phenomenon also appears in numerous other forms, not least in verse since, as Marc Lauxtermann stated, “[I]n a highly rhetorical and imitative culture such as Byzantium, rewriting is deeply engrained in the social fabric and affects all forms of discourse.”39 Lauxtermann dedicated an entire chapter in the second volume of his magisterial investigation of Byzantine poetry to the technique of metaphrasis, where he distinguishes ten types of versified metaphrasis, paying particular attention to the fable.40

35 On linguistic developments during the Byzantine centuries, see Horrocks ibid., and D. Holton, G. Horrocks et al., The Cambridge Grammar of Medieval and Early Modern Greek, 4 vols (Cambridge, 2019). 36 On Ouranos’ text, see also Déroche, “L’âge d’or,” p. 36. There are, however, many common features between Nikephoros’ and Symeon’s metaphraseis, particularly concerning vocabulary. The research project presented by Hinterberger in the present volume investigates in detail the lexical correspondences between Nikephoros’ metaphrasis and the old vita. 37 An explanation for this can be found if we consider that Symeon’s models were, in fact, in many instances, already reworked versions and were themselves based on earlier hagiographical texts that had a simple linguistic level. Elements of living language might have already been eliminated in this earlier upgrading process. For some examples, see Schiffer in this volume. 38 The older vita of Symeon Stylites the Younger belongs to the category of low-level saints’ vitae: see R. Browning, “The ‘Low Level’ Saint’s Life in the Early Byzantine World,” in The Byzantine Saint, ed. S. Hackel (Crestwood, N.Y. 2001), pp. 117–27, particularly p. 117: “Such lives are generally composed in an unpretentious style and in a language little affected by classicising tendencies.” In this article, Browning repeatedly refers to the vita of Symeon the Younger. 39 Lauxtermann, Byzantine Poetry, 2, p. 227. 40 Lauxtermann, Byzantine Poetry, 2, pp. 225–46.

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Since Byzantine literature is particularly rich in texts that were adapted to new aims and circumstances, the potential to examine rewriting is almost limitless. Rewriting techniques were an essential part of rhetorical training and, as already stated, rhetorical genres such as mythos, chreia, and gnome constitute exercises in retelling the same story in other words. Another of these exercises, ethopoiia, though similar, differs since it is characterised by retelling from a different point of view. Moreover, Homeric scholia or works of Christian literature such as catenae (biblical commentary) by definition rely on (partial) rewriting.41 Yet it is perhaps the great subjects of literature that deserve further exploration; those intricately connected with Byzantine culture beyond hagiography and historiography, such as the legends about Abgar, the Story of Alexander the Great, Digenis Akritis or the Story of Belisar.42 Like the vitae of important and popular saints, these stories were constantly rewritten. Chronicles also provide various opportunities to explore rewriting techniques since they incorporated contemporary textual material and/or relied on older texts.43 Theophanes the Confessor, for instance, integrated adapted passages of Prokopios and Theophylaktos Simokates. It might be worthwhile to examine how far Theophanes’ rewriting adheres to similar linguistic principles or follows analogous stylistic lines with the change of stylistic/linguistic level operated by the hagiographical and historiographical metaphraseis mentioned above. A similar kind of updating qua rewriting and adaptation can be observed in numerous other textual categories, particularly texts destined for practical usage rather than literary (although this distinction is a modern one, almost entirely alien to Byzantine literature). Recently, Anna Maria Taragna drew our attention to another work by Nikephoros Ouranos that she also regards as a metaphrasis: his Tactica, a military treatise, which primarily relies on the older work by Syrianos Magistros.44

41 See, for example, G. Kolovou, “La réécriture des scholies homériques dans les Parekbolai sur l’Iliade d’Eustathe de Thessalonique,” in Remanier, métaphraser – fonctions et techniques de la réécriture dans le monde byzantin, eds, S. Marjanović-Dušanić and B. Flusin (Belgrade, 2011), pp. 149–62. 42 On Abgar, see B. Caseau, “La lettre de Jésus à Abgar d’Édesse: appropriations et transformations,”; on the Story of Alexander, see C. Jouanno, “Emprunt et réécriture dans une version tardive du Roman d’Alexandre: le poème de Marcianus graecus 408,” in Remanier, métaphraser – fonctions et techniques de la réécriture dans le monde byzantin, eds, S. Marjanović-Dušanić and B. Flusin (Belgrade, 2011), pp. 229–38 and in the present volume; on Digenis, see E. Jeffreys, Digenis Akritis. The Grottaferrata and Escorial Versions (Cambridge, 2004) and on Belisar, see W. Bakker and A. F. van Gemert, Ἱστορία τοῦ Βελισαρίου, 2nd ed. (Athens, 2007). 43 See, for example, J.-C. Cheynet, “Jean Skylitzès, lecteur des chroniqueurs du Xe siècle” in Remanier, métaphraser – fonctions et techniques de la réécriture dans le monde byzantin, eds, S. Marjanović-Dušanić and B. Flusin (Belgrade, 2011), pp. 111–29. 44 Taragna, “Niceforo Urano,” esp. 212–13.

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Ideological Modifications and Authorial Comments Although the metaphrastic process primarily consists of the linguistic and stylistic reworking of a text, ideological modifications are inevitable and are a frequent goal. In addition, content changes with form (or even the other way around). According to Symeon Paschalides, at its initial stage, the primary objective of the hagiographical metaphrasis was to provide a dogmatically correct text; the recasting of the text into a more demanding register from the literary perspective came second.45 These imperatives change with Symeon’s collection: in comparison with the older vitae, the general argument is the same, although certain motives in their Metaphrastic versions, such as emotions, are enhanced or, conversely, suppressed.46 However, this is not the case for all metaphraseis. The original vita of Ioannikios, which is rather critical of Theodore Stoudites, was rewritten in a form that was far friendlier to the Stoudite community (c. 855, only a few years after the composition of the original version).47 The tenth-century rewriting of the vita of Philaretos (version δ) manifests a considerable shift in mentality towards an attitude that is less tolerant of social critique.48 What seems to be happening is that the general stylistic and linguistic upgrading of tenth-eleventh century hagiographical texts reflects an aristocratisation of hagiography.49 Modifications that leant towards a certain ideological/political direction are often linked to fierce debates within Byzantine society. Thus, in the case of Ioannikios’ vita, Iconoclasm and its aftermath play a large role. This change of focus reappears in a number of Palaiologan metaphraseis, featuring as strong anti-unionist sympathies or outspokenly Palamite opinions. They

45 S. A. Paschalides, “Παρατηρήσεις στὶς μεταφράσεις τῶν βυζαντινῶν ἁγιολογικῶν κειμένων,” in Ἐν ἁγίοις. Εἰδικὰ θέματα βυζαντινῆς καὶ μεταβυζαντινῆς ἁγιολογίας, ed. S. A. Paschalides, 1 (Thessalonica, 2012), pp. 75–88. 46 See, however, the intentional modifications Symeon made concerning stories about Iconoclasm: L. Lukhovitskiy, “Recollection, Reevaluation, Distortion: Symeon Metaphrastes’ Narrative Techniques in Retelling the History of Iconoclasm,” Byzantinische Zeitschrift 109.2 (2016), 785–808. On emotions in metaphraseis, see J. O. Rosenqvist, “Changing Styles and Changing Mentalities: The Secondary Version of the Life of St Philaretos the Merciful,” in Metaphrasis. Redactions and Audiences in Middle Byzantine Hagiography, ed. C. Høgel (Oslo, 1996), pp. 42–58; Krausmüller, “Fainting fits”; and M. Hinterberger, “Byzantinische biographische Literatur des 10. Jahrhunderts: Quellenkritik – reizvolle Erzählungen – Fiktion,” in Eine Bestandsaufnahme der biographischen Literatur im 10. Jahrhundert, eds, S. Enderwitz and W. Schamoni (Heidelberg, 2009), pp. 57–81. 47 See O. Delouis, “Écriture et réécriture au monastère de Stoudios à Constantinople (IXe–Xe s.): quelques remarks,” in Remanier, métaphraser – fonctions et techniques de la réécriture dans le monde byzantin, eds, S. Marjanović-Dušanić and B. Flusin (Belgrade, 2011), pp. 101–10, at 105–06. 48 Rosenqvist, “Changing Styles and Changing Mentalities.” Cf. also Cavallero “Style et idéologie”. 49 Déroche, “L’âge d’or,” p. 37.

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indicate that these amendments were the principal goal of rewriting.50 Thus, we conclude that the ideological aspect of metaphrasis clearly shows the profoundly political dimension of hagiography in Byzantium and its capability, but also obligation, to adapt to changing circumstances. In addition to an ideological focus, metaphrasis also provides an emphasis on narrative and the author. If we compare the texts comprising Symeon the Metaphrast’s Menologion and their older versions, we find a conspicuous difference in their narrative mode. For instance, as has already been stated by Henrik Zilliacus, indirect speech frequently replaces direct speech or the latter is summarised in the form of a narration.51 Again, the reverse phenomenon can be observed in historiographical metaphraseis. Moreover, we find authorial comments and addresses to the public. Here, Symeon’s voice can be clearly heard in contrast to the older texts, where the author was usually much less present in his story.52 An even clearer trace of the metaphrasing author’s aesthetic principles can be discerned in thirteenth-fourteenth century rewritings of hagiographical texts.53 In these instances, the older texts undoubtedly undergo a more profound type of adaptation than that which occurred in the case of the Metaphrastic Menologion. Since the principal goals of historiographical metaphraseis are unmistakably linguistic simplification and de-classicisation, one would not expect ideological refurbishment. Nevertheless, as Stephanos Efthymiadis has recently argued, there is a certain shift in emphasis. This might be due to a 50 E. Kountoura-Galake, “Constantine V Kopronymos or Michael VIII Paleologos the New Constantine? The Anonymous Encomium of Saint Theodosia,” Βυζαντινὰ σύμμεικτα 15 (2002), 183–94; F. Rizzo Nervo, “Teodora Raoulena: Tra agiografia e politica,” in Syndesmos: Studi in onore di Rosario Anastasi, 1 (Catania, 1991), pp. 147–61; I. Polemis, “Neoplatonic and Hesychastic Elements in the Early Teaching of Gregory Palamas on the Union of Man with God: The Life of St Peter the Athonite,” in Pour une poétique de Byzance. Hommage à Vassilis Katsaros, Dossiers Byzantins 16, eds, S. Efthymiadis, Ch. Messis, P. Odorico and I. Polémis (Paris, 2015), pp. 205–21; A. P. Alwis, Narrating Martyrdom: Rewriting Virgin Martyrs in Byzantium (Liverpool, 2020); M. Hinterberger, “Hagiographical Enkomia as Metaphrasis in the 14th Century: Some Preliminary Observations,” and A. P. Alwis, “The Shape of Water: Rewriting Iconoclasm, Islam, and Deleuze in Byzantine Hagiography,” both in Metaphrasis: A Byzantine Concept of Rewriting and Its Hagiographical Products, The Medieval Mediterranean 125, eds, S. Constantinou and C. Høgel (Leiden, 2020). 51 H. Zilliacus, “Zur stilistischen Umarbeitungstechnik des Symeon Metaphrastes,” Byzantinische Zeitschrift 38 (1938), 333–50, at 348–50. 52 M. Hinterberger, “Die Aneignung des Anderen: Die Viten des Kyrillos von Skythopolis bearbeitet von Symeon Metaphrastes. Beobachtungen zur Umarbeitungstechnik,” in Mélanges Bernard Flusin (= Travaux et Mémoires 23.1), eds, A. Binggeli and V. Déroche (Paris, 2019), pp. 333–51. Interestingly, Nikephoros Ouranos who generally seems to share Symeon’s aesthetic principles, inserts fewer conspicuous authorial comments in his metaphrasis of the vita of Symeon the Stylite the Younger. 53 M. Hinterberger, “Hagiographische Metaphrasen”; L. Lukhovitskiy, “Nikephoros Gregoras’ Vita of St Michael the Synkellos: Rewriting Techniques and Reconstruction of the Iconoclast Past in a 14th cent. Hagiographical Metaphrasis,” Jahrbuch der Österreichischen Byzantinistik 64 (2014), 177–96 and A. P. Alwis, Narrating Martyrdom (Liverpool, 2020).

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more outspoken Christian worldview that also appears in both the metaphrasis of the Alexiad and the metaphrasis of Choniates’ History.54

The Contributions in this Volume Various aspects of this discussion are addressed in our volume. Christian Høgel presents valuable insights into Byzantine hagiographical rewriting, distinguishing between two main tendencies, standardisation and metaphrasis. He argues that standardisation of hagiographical narratives occurred in order to meet the requirements for building hagiographical collections and that metaphrasis is the concept used to achieve – generally speaking – stylistically upgraded texts. Regarding the Menologion of Symeon Metaphrastes, Høgel points out that the rewriting also includes material beyond hagiographical sources. Furthermore, he investigates the narrator’s precarious fate on the journey from original composition to its metaphrasis. The early history of metaphraseis is the focus of Daria Resh’s contribution. She investigates the first datable texts entitled as such. Moreover, Resh provides prosopographical information on their author, John, bishop of Sardis, in order to contextualise his literary activity in the early ninth century. Laura Franco clearly illustrates the process that texts have undergone as part of the Menologion of Symeon Metaphrastes. Her contribution is based on a detailed study of the hitherto unpublished Passio of St James the Persian (BHG 773) together with its pre-Metaphrastic redactions. She presents evidence for stylistic devices as a means of reworking. In addition, Franco exemplifies the close attention that was paid to the main characters’ psychological attitudes. She demonstrates how close reading of all the available sources on a certain saint, including, if possible, unpublished material, gives us an understanding of the methods applied in the composition of the Metaphrastic Menologion. Elisabeth Schiffer painstakingly unravels the complex hagiographical tradition relating to the vita of John Chrysostom that mobilises in the tenth century. She gathers together several texts that have not yet been considered and provides detailed comparisons of selected passages. Schiffer’s discoveries offer a greater insight into the minds of the revisers and highlight their independence in creating their works. Finally, she raises specific questions regarding textual relationships and the purpose of the existence of several contemporary adaptations of the same text.

54 S. Efthymiadis, “Déclassiciser pour édifier? Remarques et réflexions à propos de la métaphrase de l’Alexiade d’Anne Comnène,” in Οὗ δῶρόν εἰμι τὰς γραφὰς βλέπων νόει: Mélanges Jean-Claude Cheynet (= Travaux et Mémoires 21.1), eds, B. Caseau, V. Prigent and A. Sopracasa (Paris, 2017), pp. 139–50.

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Martin Hinterberger’s contribution presents the results of a four-year collaborative research project, which meticulously records high to low lexical correspondences between model hagiographical and historiographical texts and their metaphrastic adaptations. He provides an overview of the database that will provide Byzantinists with a definitive tool to establish the stylistic quality of a certain word, which, in turn, will assist in determining the degree of learnedness of a text. By providing numerous comparisons of a range of vocabulary in a variety of texts, Hinterberger’s results demonstrate that a coherent linguistic system was in place and he sets the essential foundation for future examinations of Byzantine literature. In his chapter, Staffan Wahlgren investigates a work generally not regarded as metaphrasis from a metaphrastic point of view. He seeks to demonstrate common writing strategies between the continuation of the Chronicle of Symeon the Logothete and proper metaphraseis. Wahlgren rightly postulates that writers of a continuation of a certain text may have found themselves in a situation similar to that of a Metaphrast.55 Among the works most intensively rewritten both in Byzantium and the medieval West, we find the Alexander romance, constantly modified and adapted throughout the centuries. In order to demonstrate the various linguistic and ideological changes that mark the transition from one version to the other, Corinne Jouanno chooses to investigate the episode of Alexander’s encounter with the ambassadors of the Persian king. She distinguishes conservative and innovative versions of the text. The first largely maintain the narrative content of the oldest version, modifying it through the addition or elimination of episodes whereas the latter constitute in-depth rewritings of the model. Jouanno clearly shows how Alexander’s image undergoes subtle variation in each new version. From a linguistic/stylistic point of view, we observe both simplifying as well as elaborating tendencies in the different versions, perhaps each reflecting the rewriter’s effort to meet the aesthetic predilections of a changing public. This becomes particularly evident in the late- and post-Byzantine transpositions into verse. After insightful general remarks on hagiographical metaphraseis of the Palaiologan era, Lev Lukhovitskiy embarks on an in-depth investigation of two texts composed by the prolific author Nikephoros Gregoras. In order to reveal Gregoras’ decidedly different approach to the stories, Lukhovitskiy juxtaposes crucial passages of Gregoras’ Vita of Theophano and the Vita of Anthony Kauleas with their (early tenth century) model texts. It becomes clear that Gregoras strongly enhances emotions and the mechanics of psychology (the latter in

55 See, for example, fables written in the style of a fable (and added to the fable collection) without constituting metaphraseis based on a model; cf. Lauxtermann, Byzantine Poetry, 2, pp. 229–37, particularly p. 235: “[In this case] metaphrasis takes on a whole new meaning: it no longer indicates the adaptation of an existing fable, but the writing of a new tale in the manner of Aesop.”

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form of scientific digressions) in his heroes’ presentation. Interestingly, these two features substitute the miracles related in the old versions.

Concluding Remarks We hope that this volume will further stimulate an already fruitful discussion of the phenomenon of “metaphrasis.” However, we are aware that far from every aspect of this topic has been treated and that numerous questions need to be addressed in the future. We would like to single out just two for further discussion. In the overview, we noted various modes of rewriting in various combinations. Is metaphrasis ultimately an all-encompassing concept like “rewriting,” or even a writing technique rather than a literary genre (as M. Lauxtermann suggests56) or should we restrict the term’s application to specific forms of rewriting that fulfil certain requirements and therefore can be identified as, sensu stricto, metaphraseis? What would these requirements be apart from the general dependence on an existing text? Clearly, the linguistic/stylistic aspect is less prominent in the hagiographical rewritings of Niketas David the Paphlagonian or the authors of the Palaiologan era, as well as in newer chronicles in comparison with older ones. Here, the transposition to a different genre (enkomion) and/or ideological adaptation is the driving force behind the modifications made to the original text. Does this fact exclude these texts from the category of metaphrasis? Is the primarily linguistic reworking the core characteristic of metaphrasis (as Flusin seems to suggest57)? The place of Symeon the Metaphrast within the Metaphrastic tradition and its innovative aspects seems to be open for debate as well.58 What exactly is Symeon’s attitude toward his predecessors and their texts? Who exactly were his predecessors and the texts Symeon relied on? What distinguishes him in comparison with the older texts and what was the reason for his success?59 All these questions still need to be answered and we hope that this volume goes some way to laying the foundations for their resolution.

56 “Metaphrasis is not a literary genre, it is a technique” (Lauxtermann, Byzantine Poetry, 2, p. 227). 57 Flusin, “Vers la Métaphrase,” pp. 94–95. 58 See Schiffer in the present volume and particularly Flusin, “Vers la Métaphrase,” p. 99: “l’œuvre de Syméon a consisté à choisir parmi les tendances nouvelles et à revenir systématiquement, en écartant les éloges, aux formes narratives traditionnelles et plus facilement impersonnelles de la Vie ou de la Passion … il a pu se garder d’innover et, par un travail le plus souvent de simple réécriture, a su produire un ensemble de textes dont l’élégance insipide et le conservatisme bienséant ont assuré le succès.” 59 See also Høgel in this volume.

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Bibliography A. P. Alwis, Narrating Martyrdom: Rewriting Virgin Martyrs in Byzantium (Liverpool, 2020). A. P. Alwis, “The Shape of Water: Rewriting Iconoclasm, Islam, and Deleuze in Byzantine Hagiography,” in Metaphrasis: A Byzantine Concept of Rewriting and Its Hagiographical Products, The Medieval Mediterranean 125, eds, S. Constantinou and C. Høgel (Leiden, 2020), pp. 176–201. Ch. Astruc, “L’inventaire dressé en septembre 1200 du Trésor et de la Bibliothèque de Patmos,” Travaux et Mémoires 8 (1981), 15–30. W. Bakker and A. F. van Gemert, Ἱστορία τοῦ Βελισαρίου, 2nd ed. (Athens, 2007). R. Browning, “The ‘Low Level’ Saint’s Life in the Early Byzantine World,” in The Byzantine Saint, ed. S. Hackel (Crestwood, N.Y. 2001), pp. 117–27. B. Caseau, “La lettre de Jésus à Abgar d’Édesse: appropriations et transformations,” in Remanier, métaphraser – fonctions et techniques de la réécriture dans le monde byzantin, eds, S. Marjanović-Dušanić and B. Flusin (Belgrade, 2011), pp. 13–44. P. Cavallero, “Style et idéologie. De la version longue à la version brève de la Vie de Jean l’Aumônier, due à Léonce de Néapolis,” Byzantinische Zeitschrift 113 (2020), 1–34. J.-C. Cheynet, “Jean Skylitzès, lecteur des chroniqueurs du Xe siècle,” in Remanier, métaphraser – fonctions et techniques de la réécriture dans le monde byzantin, eds, S. Marjanović-Dušanić and B. Flusin (Belgrade, 2011), pp. 111–29. N. Churik, “Greek Explicating Greek: A Study of Metaphrase Language and Style,” in Trends and Turning Points: Constructing the Late Antique and Byzantine World, The Medieval Mediterranean 117, eds, M. Kinloch and A. MacFarlane (Leiden – Boston, 2019), pp. 66–82. S. Constantinou and C. Høgel, eds, Metaphrasis: A Byzantine Concept of Rewriting and Its Hagiographical Products, The Medieval Mediterranean 125 (Leiden, 2020). C. Crimi, “Note sulla Vita di Gregorio di Agrigento nella riscrittura di Niceta David Paflagone (BHG 708),” Sicilia Antiqua 13 (2016 = Studi in memoria di Giacomo Manganaro), 59–62. J. Davis, “Anna Komnene and Niketas Choniates ‘translated’: the fourteenthcentury Byzantine metaphrases,” in History as Literature in Byzantium. Papers from the Fortieth Spring Symposium of Byzantine Studies, University of Birmingham, April 2007, Society for the Promotion of Byzantine Studies 15, ed. R. Macrides (Farnham – Burlington, 2010), pp. 55–70. O. Delouis, “Écriture et réécriture au monastère de Stoudios à Constantinople (IXe–Xe s.): quelques remarks,” in Remanier, métaphraser – fonctions et techniques de la réécriture dans le monde byzantin, eds, S. Marjanović-Dušanić and B. Flusin (Belgrade, 2011), pp. 101–10. K. Demoen, “John Geometres’ Iambic Life of Saint Panteleemon. Text, Genre and Metaphrastic Style,” in Philomathestatos. Studies in Greek and Byzantine Texts Presented to Jacques Noret for his Sixty-Fifth Birthday, Orientalia Lovaniensia Analecta 137, eds, B. Janssens, B. Roosen and P. Van Deun (Leuven, 2004), pp. 165–84.

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K. Demoen, “Metaphrasis and Versification: The Paradeisos as a Reworking of Apophthegmata Patrum,” in Metaphrasis: A Byzantine Concept of Rewriting and Its Hagiographical Products, The Medieval Mediterranean 125, eds, S. Constantinou and C. Høgel (Leiden, 2020), pp. 202–23. V. Déroche, “Les réécritures de la Vie de Jean l’Aumônier de Léontios de Néapolis (BHG 886),” in Remanier, métaphraser – fonctions et techniques de la réécriture dans le monde byzantin, eds, S. Marjanović-Dušanić and B. Flusin (Belgrade, 2011), pp. 61–70. V. Déroche, “L’âge d’or de l’hagiographie: nouvelles formes et nouvelles tendances,” in Proceedings of the 23rd International Congress of Byzantine Studies. Belgrade 22–27 August 2016. Plenary Papers, pp. 35–39. M. Detoraki, “Un parent pauvre de la réécriture hagiographique: l’abrégé,” in Remanier, métaphraser – fonctions et techniques de la réécriture dans le monde byzantin, eds, S. Marjanović-Dušanić and B. Flusin (Belgrade, 2011), pp. 71–83. S. Efthymiadis, “John of Sardis and the Metaphrasis of the Passio of St Nikephoros the Martyr,” Rivista di studi bizantini e neoellenici n. s. 28 (1991), 23–44. S. Efthymiadis, “Une hagiographie classicisante et son auteur: la vie longue de Sainte Thomaϊs de Lesbos (BHG 2455),” in Pour une poétique de Byzance. Hommage à Vassilis Katsaros, Dossiers Byzantins 16, eds, S. Efthymiadis, Ch. Messis, P. Odorico and I. Polémis (Paris, 2015), pp. 113–31. S. Efthymiadis, “Déclassiciser pour édifier? Remarques et réflexions à propos de la métaphrase de l’Alexiade d’Anne Comnène,” in Οὗ δῶρόν εἰμι τὰς γραφὰς βλέπων νόει: Mélanges Jean-Claude Cheynet (= Travaux et Mémoires 21.1), eds, B. Caseau, V. Prigent and A. Sopracasa (Paris, 2017), pp. 139–50. A. Failler, La version brève des Relations Historiques de Georges Pachymérès, Archives de l’Orient Chrétien 17 and 18, 2 vols (Paris, 2001). B. Flusin, Saint Anastase le Perse et l’histoire de la Palestine au début du VIIe siècle, 2 vols (Paris, 1992). B. Flusin, “Vers la Métaphrase,” in Remanier, métaphraser – fonctions et techniques de la réécriture dans le monde byzantin, eds, S. Marjanović-Dušanić and B. Flusin (Belgrade, 2011), pp. 85–99. P. Gautier, “La Diataxis de Michel Attaleiate,” Revue des Études Byzantines 39 (1981), 5–143. A. Gioffreda and A. Rhoby, “Die metrische Psalmenmetaphrase des Manuel Philes. Präliminarien zu einer kritischen Edition,” Medioevo Greco 20 (2020), 119–41. M. Hinterberger, “Byzantinische biographische Literatur des 10. Jahrhunderts: Quellenkritik – reizvolle Erzählungen – Fiktion,” in Eine Bestandsaufnahme der biographischen Literatur im 10. Jahrhundert, eds, S. Enderwitz and W. Schamoni (Heidelberg 2009), pp. 57–81. M. Hinterberger, “Hagiographische Metaphrasen. Ein möglicher Weg der Annäherung an die Literarästhetik der frühen Palaiologenzeit,” in Imitatio – aemulatio – variatio. Akten des internationalen wissenschaftlichen Symposions zur byzantinischen Sprache und Literatur (Wien 22.-25. Oktober 2008), Veröffentlichungen zur Byzanzforschung 21, eds, A. Rhoby and E. Schiffer (Vienna, 2010), pp. 137–51.

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M. Hinterberger, “Die Konstantinsvita im Späten Byzanz. Vorläufige Ergebnisse einer Gegenüberstellung palaiologenzeitlicher Metaphrasen,” Graeco-Latina Brunensia 16 (2012), 41–59. M. Hinterberger, “Between Simplification and Elaboration: Byzantine Metaphraseis Compared,” in Textual Transmission in Byzantium: between Textual Criticism and Quellenforschung, Lectio 2, eds, J. Signes Codoñer and I. Pérez Martín (Turnhout, 2014), pp. 33–60. M. Hinterberger, “Hagiographical Enkomia as Metaphrasis in the 14th Century: Some Preliminary Observations,” in Metaphrasis: A Byzantine Concept of Rewriting and Its Hagiographical Products, The Medieval Mediterranean 125, eds, S. Constantinou and C. Høgel (Leiden, 2020), pp. 285–323. C. Høgel, Symeon Metaphrastes. Rewriting and Canonization (Copenhagen, 2002). C. Høgel, “Symeon the Metaphrast and the Metaphrastic Movement,” in ARCBH, 2 (2014), pp. 181–96. D. Holton, G. Horrocks, M. Janssen, T. Lendari, I. Manolessou and N. Toufexis, The Cambridge Grammar of Medieval and Early Modern Greek, 4 vols (Cambridge, 2019). G. Horrocks, Greek. A History of the Language and its Speakers 2nd ed. (Chichester, 2010). H. Hunger, Anonyme Metaphrase zu Anna Komnene, Alexias XI–XIII. Ein Beitrag zur Erschließung der byzantinischen Umgangssprache, Wiener Byzantinistische Studien 15 (Vienna, 1981). H. Hunger and I. Ševčenko, Des Nikephoros Blemmydes Βασιλικὸς Ἀνδριάς und dessen Metaphrase von Georgios Galesiotes und Georgios Oinaiotes. Ein weiterer Beitrag zum Verständnis der byzantinischen Schrift-Koine, Wiener Byzantinistische Studien 18 (Vienna, 1988). E. Jeffreys, Digenis Akritis. The Grottaferrata and Escorial Versions (Cambridge, 2004). C. Jouanno, “Emprunt et réécriture dans une version tardive du Roman d’Alexandre: le poème de Marcianus graecus 408,” in Remanier, métaphraser – fonctions et techniques de la réécriture dans le monde byzantin, eds, S. MarjanovićDušanić and B. Flusin (Belgrade, 2011), pp. 229–38. Μ. Kalatzi, “Un discours inédit de Constantin Acropolite en l’honneur des saints martyrs Florus et Laurus,” Byzantion 71 (2001), 505–16. G. Kolovou, “La réécriture des scholies homériques dans les Parekbolai sur l’Iliade d’Eustathe de Thessalonique,” in Remanier, métaphraser – fonctions et techniques de la réécriture dans le monde byzantin, eds, S. Marjanović-Dušanić and B. Flusin (Belgrade, 2011), pp. 149–62. E. Kountoura-Galake, “Constantine V Kopronymos or Michael VIII Paleologos the New Constantine? The Anonymous Encomium of Saint Theodosia,” Βυζαντινὰ σύμμεικτα 15 (2002), 183–94. D. Krausmüller, “Fainting Fits and their Causes: a Topos in two Middle Byzantine metaphraseis by Nicetas the Paphlagonian and Nicephoros Ouranos,” Golden Horn 9 (2001–02), https://goudenhoorn.com/2016/07/29/fainting-fits-and-

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their-causes-a-topos-in-two-middle-byzantine-metaphraseis-by-nicetas-thepaphlagonian-and-nicephorus-ouranos/ (accessed 2020–05–28) M. Lauxtermann, Byzantine Poetry from Pisides to Geometres. Texts and Contexts, 2, Wiener Byzantinistische Studien 24.2 (Vienna, 2019). P. Lemerle, “Le testament d’Eustathios Boilas (Avril 1059),” in Cinq études sur le XIe siècle byzantin, ed. P. Lemerle (Paris, 1977), pp. 15–63. L. Lukhovitskiy, “Nikephoros Gregoras’ Vita of St Michael the Synkellos: Rewriting Techniques and Reconstruction of the Iconoclast Past in a 14th cent. Hagiographical Metaphrasis,” Jahrbuch der Österreichischen Byzantinistik 64 (2014), 177–96. L. Lukhovitskiy, “Recollection, Reevaluation, Distortion: Symeon Metaphrastes’ Narrative Techniques in Retelling the History of Iconoclasm,” Byzantinische Zeitschrift 109.2 (2016), 785–808. E. Paraskeuopoulou, Το Αγιολογικό και Ομιλητικό Έργο του Νικηφόρου Γρηγορά, Βυζαντινὰ Κείμενα καὶ Μελέται 59 (Thessalonica, 2013). E. Paraskeuopoulou, “An Unpublished Discourse of Nikephoros Gregoras on Saint Demetrios, George and Theodore (BHG 2427). A Critical Edition,” Parekbolai 2 (2012), 49–76. S. A. Paschalides, Νικήτας Δαβὶδ Παφλαγών. Συμβολὴ στὴ μελέτη τῆς προσωπογραφίας καὶ τῆς ἁγιολογικῆς γραμματείας τῆς προμεταφραστικῆς περιόδου, Βυζαντινὰ Κείμενα καὶ Μελέται 28 (Thessalonica, 1999). S. A. Paschalides, “Παρατηρήσεις στὶς μεταφράσεις τῶν βυζαντινῶν ἁγιολογικῶν κειμένων,” in Ἐν ἁγίοις. Εἰδικὰ θέματα βυζαντινῆς καὶ μεταβυζαντινῆς ἁγιολογίας, ed. S. A. Paschalides, 1 (Thessalonica, 2012), pp. 75–88. L. Petit, ed., Œuvres complètes de Gennade Scholarios, 8 vols (Paris, 1928–36). A. Pignani, “Parafrasi o Metafrasi (a proposito della Statua Regia di Niceforo Blemmida),” Acta dell’Accademia Pontaniana n.s. 24 (1976), 219–25. I. Polemis, “Neoplatonic and Hesychastic Elements in the Early Teaching of Gregory Palamas on the Union of Man with God: The Life of St Peter the Athonite,” in Pour une poétique de Byzance. Hommage à Vassilis Katsaros, Dossiers Byzantins 16, eds, S. Efthymiadis, Ch. Messis, P. Odorico and I. Polémis (Paris, 2015), pp. 205–21. D. Resh, “Toward a Byzantine Definition of Metaphrasis,” Greek, Roman and Byzantine Studies 55 (2015), 754–87. F. Rizzo Nervo, “Teodora Raoulena: Tra agiografia e politica,” in Syndesmos: Studi in onore di Rosario Anastasi, 1 (Catania, 1991), pp. 147–61. J. O. Rosenqvist, “Changing Styles and Changing Mentalities: The Secondary Version of the Life of St Philaretos the Merciful,” in Metaphrasis. Redactions and Audiences in Middle Byzantine Hagiography, ed. C. Høgel (Oslo, 1996), pp. 42–58. I. Ševčenko, “Levels of Style in Byzantine Prose,” Jahrbuch der Österreichischen Byzantinistik 31.1 (1981), 289–312. J. Signes Codoñer, “Towards a Vocabulary of Rewriting in Byzantium,” in Textual Transmission in Byzantium: between Textual Criticism and Quellenforschung, Lectio 2, eds, J. Signes Codoñer and I. Pérez Martín (Turnhout, 2014), pp. 61–90.

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A.-M. Talbot, “Hagiography in Late Byzantium (1204–1453),” in ARCBH, 1, pp. 173–95. A. M. Taragna, “Niceforo Urano (Tact. 119) metafrasta di Siriano Magistro. Edizione sinottica et traduzione delle norme per la guerra navale,” Medioevo Greco 17 (2017), 211–39. I. Taxidis, “L’éloge de Saint Eudocime par Constantin Acropolite (BHG 606),” Parekbolai 3 (2013), 5–44. R. Volk, “Das Fortwirken der Legende von Barlaam und Ioasaph in der byzantinischen Hagiographie, insbesondere in den Werken des Symeon Metaphrastes,” Jahrbuch der Österreichischen Byzantinistik 53 (2003), 127–70. H. Zilliacus, “Zur stilistischen Umarbeitungstechnik des Symeon Metaphrastes,” Byzantinische Zeitschrift 38 (1938), 333–50.

Christian H øgel

Rewriting in Byzantium: Standardization and Metaphrasis

When attempting to draw the bigger lines of historical development within Byzantine hagiography, levels of style are, in a sense, the fundamental tool. It is through an assessment based on stylistic observations that we have settled upon a quite clear image of how Greco-Byzantine hagiography developed, with an early period in which simpler texts (low-level saints’ lives) would be written together with – relatively fewer – more rhetorically elaborate texts on saints, primarily enkomia.1 In the middle-Byzantine (and even in the late-Byzantine) period, this would then give way to a much higher proportion of high-style lives, which were often the product of rewriting, “metaphrasis.”2 It is the aim of this chapter to modify this general historical perspective and to see the development in style as depending not only on writing (of new texts) but also on rewriting (of old text into new), even from the earliest period. Within hagiography, writing may have followed a scheme from a preponderance of low-style texts in the early period to a primarily high-level literature towards the end. A similar change, however, also seems to have taken place within rewriting, and this needs to be included in the overall picture. Furthermore, in this attempt at redefinition, the status of authors, shifting readership, and





1 R. Browning, “The ‘Low Level’ Saint’s Life in the Early Byzantine World,” in The Byzantine Saint, ed. S. Hackel (San Bernardino, 1983), pp. 117–27 and S. Efthymiadis and N. Kalogeras, “Audience, Language and Patronage in Byzantine Hagiography,” in ARCBH, 2, pp. 247–84, especially at 251–53 (with bibliography). In general, see the “Period” chapters in ARCBH, 1. 2 M. Hinterberger, “Byzantine Hagiography and its Literary Genres,” in ARCBH, 2, pp. 25–60; J. Signes Codoñer, “Towards a Vocabulary for Rewriting in Byzantium,” in Textual Transmission in Byzantium: Between Textual Criticism and Quellenforschung, Lectio 2, eds, J. Signes Codoñer and I. Pérez Martín (Turnhout, 2014), pp. 61–90; C. Høgel, Symeon Metaphrastes: Rewriting and Canonization (Copenhagen, 2002); B. Flusin, “Vers la Métaphrase,” in Remanier, Métaphraser. Fonctions et techniques de la réécriture dans le monde byzantin, eds, B. Flusin and S. Marjanović-Dušanić (Belgrade, 2011), pp. 85–100; and D. Resh, “Toward a Byzantine Definition of Metaphrasis,” Greek, Roman, and Byzantine Studies 55 (2015), 754–87. Metaphrasis in Byzantine Literature, ed. by Anne P. Alwis, Martin Hinterberger and Elisabeth Schiffer, Studies in Byzantine History and Civilization, 17 (Turnhout, 2021), pp. 29–41 FHG10.1484/M.SBHC-EB.5.123036

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the rise and success of hagiographical collections deserve to be included.3 Through this, a two-tier model of hagiographical rewriting in Byzantium will be offered, as a correction to viewing hagiographical rewriting in Byzantium as primarily, or even solely, exercises in metaphrasis. Much earlier scholarship, unless based on pious approaches, deemed saints’ lives of interest according to the amount of historical information they yielded (on places, larger events, institutions, customs or beliefs). Yet, for more than a century at least, since Delehaye’s Les légendes hagiographiques (1st edition 1905), possible literary qualities (detrimental perhaps to historicity but otherwise enjoyable) have received growing attention. Scholarship now engages in very diverse approaches to hagiography, encountering texts and images as “temptations of historiography” (Michel de Certeau), as staging bodily performances (Stavroula Constantinou), seen as visions of glory ( Jostein Børtnes), or in numerous other ways.4 These approaches have probably introduced only minor adjustments in our perception of the overall literary developments within Byzantine hagiography, but they have made the enormous potentials of the genre evident. Still, however, apart from studies on metaphrasis (hagiographical rewriting, both as praxis and as generic denomination), the main scholarly interest in Byzantine hagiography has consistently been, and still is, to view texts within the context of their time of composition, and not in that of later use and readership. Many anonymous texts – especially martyrdom accounts – have therefore received little interest since their dating is insecure and can only be narrowed down within centuries, whilst their place of origin, together with their author, is often completely unknown.5 The focus on datable authored texts has been of great importance for how scholars have dealt with the genre as a whole, namely as one in which new texts appear with new information (on saint, towns and landscapes; or on social reality, institutions or rituals) and new notions (of sanctity, power or gender), but not on the continued readership that these texts received. Instead of focusing on texts in the time in which they were written, the following general presentation of hagiography in Byzantium will look at the collected mass of texts at the time in which they were read, copied, and rewritten, and what this further use meant in terms of rewriting, context (for example, whether they appeared in collections or not),





3 M. Hinterberger, “The Byzantine Hagiographer and his Text,” in ARCBH, 2, pp. 211–46; Efthymiadis and Kalogeras, “Audience, Language and Patronage,” pp. 247–84; and G. Cavallo, Lire à Byzance, Seminaires Byzantins 1 (Paris, 2006). 4 M. de Certeau, The Writing of History (New York, 1988), pp. 269–84; S. Constantinou, Female Corporeal Performances: Reading the Body in Byzantine Passions and Lives of Holy Women, Studia Byzantina Upsaliensia 9 (Uppsala, 2005); and J. Børtnes, Visions of Glory: Studies in Early Russian Hagiography, Slavica Norvegica 5 (Atlantic Highlands, N.J., 1988). 5 M. Detoraki, “Greek Passions of the Martyrs in Byzantium,” in ARCBH, 2, pp. 61–102 and C. Papavarnavas, “The Role of the Audience in the Pre-Metaphrastic Passions,” Analecta Bollandiana 134 (2016), 66–82.

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and literary aims. This puts very serious restrictions on our approaches to the earliest, pre-minuscular period. Very few hagiographical manuscripts with majuscule (uncial) script have been transmitted to us. Caution will therefore be shown in talking of the earliest period, even if it is probably developments in this period that have most eluded us.

Byzantine Hagiography on the Basis of the Transmitted Evidence If we adopt a perspective on hagiography from the view of our transmitted evidence – specifically, manuscripts – a first observation is that the vast majority of our hagiographical texts appear in liturgical collections; manuscripts that order texts according to the place of the saint’s feast day in the church calendar.6 Ehrhard’s magisterial three-volume, Überlieferung und Bestand der hagiographischen und homiletischen Literatur der griechischen Kirche (1937–52), remains the best entry into the world of Byzantine hagiography through its structured presentation of manuscripts. Two-thirds of volume one, half of volume two, and a third of volume three, cover manuscripts (primarily menologia) that exclusively contain hagiographical texts ordered according to the church calendar.7 To this may, partly, be added the so-called year collections, in which approximately half the texts are hagiographical and ordered according to the fixed calendar (the remaining texts relate to the major feasts according to the moveable church year). Only at the end of volume three do we find Ehrhard’s “Nebenwege der Überlieferung,” offering hagiographical texts in manuscripts that are not ordered liturgically. Most of these manuscripts have no ordering principle, but give hagiographical texts in what seems to be a haphazard order or within volumes with texts of a specific author (the “nichtmenologischen Sammlungen”). Some are “thematic” collections, offering texts on apostles, single saints or female saints (these are represented by only a few manuscripts) or on desert fathers (represented by many), followed by a total of 60 manuscripts that contain a single hagiographical text.8 As clearly emerges from this overview, from a statistical point of view, hagiography in Byzantium was found in liturgically ordered collections. Admittedly, the menologion formed the backbone to Ehrhard’s work. He did not survey miscellaneous manuscripts as diligently as the 2750, more or

6 S. A. Paschalidis, “The Hagiography of the Eleventh and Twelfth Centuries,” in ARCBH, 1, pp. 143–71, at 144–47. 7 A. Ehrhard, Überlieferung und Bestand der hagiographischen und homiletischen Literatur der griechischen Kirche von den Anfängen bis zum Ende des 16. Jahrhunderts, Erster Teil. Die Überlieferung, 1–3, Texte und Untersuchungen zur Geschichte der altchristlichen Literatur 50–52 (Leipzig, 1937–52). 8 See the lists in Ehrhard, Überlieferung und Bestand, 3, pp. 47–967.

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less purely hagiographical, manuscripts that he indicates he saw.9 In fact, for a hagiographical text such as the life of Barlaam and Ioasaph, only six of the 158 manuscripts listed by Volk, the latest editor, are mentioned in Ehrhard’s volumes.10 Ehrhard clearly paid little interest to manuscripts containing a single hagiographical text, as is the case of many of those including the Barlaam story. But apart from the Barlaam story, few popular hagiographical texts have been transmitted in large numbers outside hagiographical collections, and most lengthy saints’ lives, such as the life of Andrew the Fool and the life of Basil the Younger, have reached us only in a manuscript or two. Popular lives written by famous authors, such as Gregory of Nyssa’s life of Makrina or Athanasios of Alexandria’s life of Anthony, are mainly found in liturgical collections, even if these – due to stemmatic considerations – are used less often as the principal witnesses for modern text editions.11 Thus, even a full listing of Byzantine manuscripts containing hagiographical texts would not alter the picture much: hagiography was primarily found in liturgically arranged manuscripts, at least from the middle-Byzantine period onwards. Our preserved collections date mainly from the ninth to fifteenth centuries, with a clear climax in terms of numbers in the eleventh and twelfth centuries. Though numerously attested, the historical origins of these hagiographical collections have proved difficult to establish. Some indications could lead us to believe that serious initiatives in this field in the first half of the ninth century – especially by Theodore Stoudites and patriarch Methodios – were the foundational works.12 But we cannot know this for certain, and despite the many connections to Syriac liturgical texts, Syriac parallels to the Greek liturgically ordered collections of full-text martyria and lives seem not to exist.13

9 Ehrhard, Überlieferung und Bestand, 1, p. xvii. 10 This result is reached by collating the manuscripts listed by R. Volk, Die Schriften des Johannes von Damaskos, 6.1: Historia animae utilis de Barlaam et Ioasaph, Patristische Texte und Studien 61 (Berlin, 2009), pp. 240–495 and L. Perria, I manoscritti citati da Albert Ehrhard. Indice di A. Ehrhard, Überlieferung und Bestand der hagiographischen und homiletischen Literatur der griechischen Kirche, 1–3, Leipzig-Berlin 1937–52, Testi e Studi bizantino-neoellenici 4 (Rome, 1979). 11 On the life of Makrina, see the comments by P. Maraval, Grégoire de Nysse. Vie de Sainte Macrine, Sources chrétiennes 178 (Paris, 1971), pp. 118–19. On the life of Anthony, see G. J. M. Bartelink, Athanase d’Alexandrie. Vie d’Antoine, Sources chrétiennes 400 (Paris, 1994), pp. 77–95. Out of the 13 manuscripts actually used for Bartelink’s edition, only four (Vatican City, Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana, MSS Vat. gr. 566, 826, 1589; and Paris, Bibliothèque nationale de France, MS Coislin. 258) are from non-menologia, even though these are preferred. The bulk of the transmission, better represented in editions prior to that of Bartelink, is found in menologia, see pp. 83–85. See also T. Hägg, “After 300 Years: A New, Critical Edition of the Greek Life of St Antony. Review Article,” Classica et Mediaevalia 48 (1997), 267–81. 12 Høgel, Symeon Metaphrastes, pp. 45–51. 13 A question of terminology also arises here, since, for example, what F. Nau calls menologia in the Syriac material, would be labelled (extracts of) synaxaria in a Greek context. The Syriac manuscripts edited by Nau only offer very short readings on every saint: Patrologia

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Furthermore, no clear development within the transmitted material has been ascertained, except for the rise of the Metaphrastic Menologion around the turn of the tenth century. Apart from the Metaphrastic corpus, menologia seem to have been produced in much the same fashion all the way throughout. Generally speaking, they yielded a rather interchangeable selection of texts within a relatively stable group of saints, with a gradual but slow inclusion of texts on new saints. Given the commissioners’/producers’ generally free choice as to texts and versions, no two menologia contain exactly the same selection of texts, apart from the many volumes that are exemplars of the ten-volume Metaphrastic collection.14 For these reasons, it has been difficult to historicize or really discuss the main bulk of hagiographical writing and activity; specifically, the liturgical collections, and see them as they should, namely, as the main conveyers of what hagiography was, at least from a generalized, sociological perspective. This is not due to negligence. The task of tracing the developments within menologia would be hard and perhaps, in the end, disappointing. It would require recording and tracing the genealogies within hundreds of manuscripts, texts, and text versions that are poorly edited in most cases, and that – at least when browsing through Ehrhard’s lists – show little sign of yielding any clear overall patterns of change. Moreover, the scholar would constantly have to operate with unknown, lost intermediaries. Perhaps collation of online manuscripts through crowdsourcing is the only chance such a project may have in order to reach any result. But until then, we will have to make do with what we have, and establish an overview from a more descriptive approach. Here, generic observations are common, and much can be learned from looking at how genres are represented in hagiographical collections. Though Byzantine hagiographical collections offer a variety of genres, martyr accounts form the major single group in almost all cases. Lives (bios/ bios kai politeia) and texts on translations of relics are also common, while miracle collections – when given – are often appended to lives.15 Texts that may be deemed – and are in some cases labelled as – enkomia appear together with “ordinary” martyr accounts and lives. The distinction between enkomia (purportedly laudatory speeches composed according to rhetorical rules and

orientalis 10: Martyrologes et ménologes orientaux (Paris, 1915). See also A. Binggeli, “Les collections de vies de saints dans les manuscrits syriaques,” in L’hagiographie syriaque, Études syriaques 9, ed. A. Binggeli (Paris, 2012), pp. 49–75, who gives no parallel examples to Greek menologia or anything similar. The preferred ordering principle in Syriac hagiographical collections seems to be by types of saints or geography. 14 And these – despite Ehrhard’s categories – also differ, with a few non-Metaphrastic texts mingling into many Metaphrastic volumes (see the list of “foreign” texts in Ehrhard, Überlieferung und Bestand, 2, pp. 660–76) and some of the standard texts often being left out: see, for example, for September, Ehrhard’s summing: Überlieferung und Bestand, 2, p. 350. 15 Statistics are hard to produce on this, but all random menologia checked by the author in Ehrhard’s lists yielded a higher number of martyrs as opposed to ascetics/confessors.

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often demonstrating a keener awareness of addressing a specific audience) and martyr acts/lives is often hard to draw, both from a literary point of view and by the fact that they appear interchangeably in these collections. Various combinations of these generic labels occur in titles of hagiographical texts in Byzantine manuscripts.16 But it is important to stress the preponderance of martyrs, which is normally also the case in pictorial programmes. Very often martyr accounts receive spare treatment in modern accounts. Ever since editors like Musurillo and others narrowed down the number of martyr accounts that had any chance of dating back to the era of late-antique persecution, only these and a restricted number of martyrdoms from later ages – and of possible high historicity – have received attention.17 In the end, more than a hundred martyr acts, purportedly relating events from (ancient) times of persecution, hardly ever receive any real scholarly attention, except in studies of metaphrasis and when used in combination with pictorial programmes, even if these texts form the largest – and thereby, to some extent, the fundamental – aspect of sainthood in Byzantium. To have an idea of the distribution of martyrs versus ascetics, but also to show how these saintly categories were conceived, we may take a look at a pictorial programme. The so-called Menologion of Basil II (Vat. gr. 1613, in fact, better called an illustrated synaxarion, now online: http://digi.vatlib.it/view/ MSS_Vat.gr.1613) contains 430 texts and images for days from the beginning of September until the end of February. It is thus a liturgical collection covering the first half of the church year, and orders its texts and images according to the fixed church calendar.18 Based on a purely iconographic analysis of the images, a very high proportion of the 430 images – namely, a total of 242 – obviously depict martyrs, shown at the scene of execution and portrayed variously just before, during or just after the moment of losing their lives. Of these 242 images, no less than 150 show executioners/soldiers swinging (or having swung) swords, making this specific action central to more than a third of all the images. But other manners of dying are also depicted: no less than 25 images show saints being burnt to death (or approaching a fire), nine are being tossed into some kind of water, and 58 find their deaths in a variety of other ways. The number of people depicted in the process of being killed (in all, 242) can be held up against the 129 that seem to be ascetics/

16 Hinterberger, “Byzantine Hagiography and its Literary Genres,” pp. 25–60. 17 H. Musurillo, The Acts of the Christian Martyrs (Oxford, 1972). Good examples of later martyrdoms that have received extensive attention are B. Flusin, Saint Anastase le Perse et l’histoire de la Palestine au début du VIIe siècle (Paris, 1992); M. Detoraki, Le Martyre de saint Aréthas et de ses compagnons (BHG 166), Collège de France, Centre de Recherche d’histoire et civilisation de Byzance, Monographies 27 (Paris, 2007); and La Vie d’Étienne le Jeune par Étienne le Diacre, Birmingham Byzantine and Ottoman Monographs 3, ed. and trans. M.-F. Auzépy (Birmingham, 1997). 18 See the contributions in F. D’Aiuto, ed., El “Menologio” de Basilio II: Città del Vaticano, Vat. gr. 1613: libro de estudios con ocasión de la edición facsímil (Vatican City, 2008).

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confessors, judging from the images: here, four are stylites, 40 are some sort of eremites (based on the predominance of a “wild” landscape as backdrop), while 85 are depicted as standing erect in front of a building. Confessors, therefore, seem to be primarily thought of as associated with an institution of some sort (or perhaps the Church as such). Finally, around 40 out of the 430 images depict feast days of Christ, Mary, and/or apostles, as well as of councils, various miraculous and other (to the uninitiated, less obvious) events. Thus, from a purely iconographic reading of the depictions of saints, we observe an obvious feature of standardization, despite the lovely colours and the enjoyable variation in layout. Two main categories dominate – martyrs and confessors – and in the first group, the “death by sword” type is the most numerous, whereas the “institutional representative” model typifies the second. But altogether, martyrs – the less studied type today – dominate the field, even if their standardized depiction makes it hard to distinguish one from the other in many cases. Furthermore, as indicated, the uneven distribution of martyrs and ascetics/confessors features in by far the majority of hagiographical collections from Byzantium.

Standardization Browsing through the Menologion of Basil II, we noted a heavy standardization and, unsurprisingly, this seems to have taken place not only in the pictorial programme, but also in the accompanying texts. All texts of the Menologion have been adjusted so that they take up more or less exactly the other halfpage, making text and image fill the same amount of space. Such enormous restriction may be unparalleled in Byzantine hagiography, but the high degree of alignment reached within saintly types in the Menologion of Basil II was made possible through a heavy standardization that had long taken place within hagiographical texts. This standardization implied that, in many cases, author names had disappeared (or do we really believe that so many lives were written without their authors leaving any stamp?), that individual narrator voices had been eliminated (we have some indications of this), and that much historical material and assumed knowledge were replaced with standard phrases and scenes, or simply left out, to make the texts make sense in new settings. We will now go through these features of standardization, one by one. Generally in Byzantium, authorial features were apt to disappear, simply by not being included when texts were copied, but also through the general lack of information retrieval on authors in Byzantium.19 Without an author’s

19 See the introductory words in L. G. Westerink, Nicétas Magistros. Lettres d’un exilé (928–46) (Paris, 1973), pp. 9–16 and, more comprehensively, in S. Papaioannou, “Voice, Signature, Mask: The Byzantine Author,” in The Author in Middle Byzantine Literature. Modes, Functions, and Identities, Byzantinisches Archiv 28, ed. A. Pizzone (Boston, 2014), pp. 21–40, at 29–32.

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name, texts – at least hagiographical texts – were much more liable to be adapted or rewritten. Texts by famous authors – in fact, primarily sanctified authors – were not taken through this process. The life of Anthony and the life of Makrina survived with (probably) very little readjustment, protected as they were by the retained author names of Athanasios of Alexandria and Gregory of Nyssa, as happened later on with the Metaphrastic versions (as we know from Psellos, Symeon Metaphrastes was also sanctified).20 A few authors who seem not to have been sanctified, such as Cyril of Skythopolis, reached a comparable renown as authors, not least by being the authors of several lives, and this, apparently, protected their texts to some degree. This also applies to some enkomiasts, such as Andrew of Crete, whose works found some protection in the later transmission. A good example of an intermediate hagiographer is Leontios of Neapolis. His inventive writing – not least the life of Symeon the Fool – clearly earned him a name. On the other hand, his hagiographical writing on John the Almsgiver (Eleemon) was only a supplement to the first life composed by John Moschos and Sophronios (Leontios’ text was entitled Eis ta leiponta …).21 A rewriter would soon take the time to combine these two texts and downwash any individual authorial voice, as well as simplifying the prose in general.22 This version was the one on which Symeon Metaphrastes based his rewriting.23 Thus, the tenuous survival of Leontios’ original text on John Eleemon as well, was helped because of his “name” as a hagiographical writer.24 But the most commonly read version of the life of John Eleemon would be the rewriting of the version that combined the accounts of Kyros and John (which is now lost) and of Leontios into one, with either no author name indicated or understood – by appearing in his collection – as the product of Symeon Metaphrastes. In this process, we noted that the removal of author names was an important first step for the subsequent process. In addition, the disappearance of the identities of narrators can be evidenced. Most narrators would be identified with the author, if they were not presented with other features. With the disappearance of author names, many narrators would then become faceless. But other (internal) narrators also ended up being anonymized. In the pre-Metaphrastic life of Pelagia, the 20 C. Høgel, “Sanctification of Hagiographers. The Canonization of Symeon Metaphrastes,” in Metaphrasis. A Byzantine Concept of Rewriting and Its Hagiographical Products, The Medieval Mediterranean 125, eds, S. Constantinou & C. Høgel (Leiden, 2020), pp. 270-81. 21 A.-J. Festugière and L. Rydén, eds, Léontios de Néapolis, Vie de Syméon le Fou et Vie de Jean de Chypre, Bibliothèque archéologique et historique 95 (Paris, 1974) and P. Cavallero et al., eds, Leoncio de Neápolis. Vida de Juan el limosnero (Buenos Aires, 2011). 22 H. Delehaye, “Une Vie inédite de saint Jean,” Analecta Bollandiana 45 (1927), 5–74. 23 V. Déroche, “Les réécritures de la Vie de Jean l’Aumônier de Léontios de Néapolis (BHG 886),” in Remanier, Métaphraser. Fonctions et techniques de la réécriture dans le monde byzantin, eds, B. Flusin and S. Marjanović-Dušanić (Belgrade, 2011), pp. 61–70, at 65. 24 On the tenuous manuscript transmission (two manuscripts containing the full version, two others are abbreviated versions), see Cavallero, Leoncio de Neápolis, pp. 16–24.

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name of the narrator – Iakobos – was kept in parts of the transmission (the family π of Flusin and Paramelle), but his name disappeared from the text in the Metaphrastic version, although it retained the narrator’s “eye-witness” perspective.25 Given the lack of early material, it is, of course, hard to assess the exact amount of standardization, in terms of information that was included or excluded and stock language that was introduced. Much “standard language” was clearly part of many original compositions, to make narrations based on little actual evidence fit into a general pattern or into the perceived notion of sainthood and its mode of narration.26 But it is hard to believe that pious authors, when taking up the task of writing a saint’s life, would only give such standardized accounts of their saint and not include any local references, as is often seen in our material. In numerous texts – especially martyr accounts – no true local features appear. Even the narratives of a famous saint such as Aiketarina (Catherine) give us no real original information on Alexandria or display any familiarity with places or names, for example.27 In the early account of Palestinian martyrs, left to us by Eusebios of Caesarea, the story of the martyr Prokopios is weaved into a larger historical account, with more attention paid to covering church history than to individual acts.28 In the standard accounts found in Byzantine liturgical collections, Prokopios became a standardized martyr, who goes through a process of questioning and execution very like that of other martyrs. The manner in which Prokopios is here turned into a “normal” martyr must have been applied elsewhere, whether working from historical sources, from a fuller account (even court documents, as hypothesized by Delehaye, though we may doubt this), or from pure local pride.29 An example of the latter could be the life of Athanasios of Klysma (Suez), which yields some original pieces of information, mentioning, for example, a place “where is now the cross,” a reference that would only make sense to someone familiar with the city of Klysma.30 Our sole witness for this text is a non-liturgical manuscript containing lives of Palestinian saints, which is one of the few extant collections based on local interest and not a liturgical menologion (and is therefore included in Ehrhard’s Nebenwege).31

25 P. Petitmengin et al., Pélagie la Pénitente: Métamorphoses d’une légende, 1 (Paris, 1981), p. 21 and Høgel, Symeon Metaphrastes, p. 148. 26 M. van Uytfanghe, “L’hagiographie: un ‘genre’ chrétien ou antique tardif?”Analecta Bollandiana 111 (1993), 135–88. 27 J. Viteau, ed., Passions de SS. Écaterine et Pierre d’Alexandrie, Barbara et Anysia, publiées d’après les manuscrits grecs de Paris et Rome (Paris, 1897). 28 On this, see Detoraki, “Greek Passions,” pp. 61–102, especially pp. 66–73. 29 H. Delehaye, Les legendes hagiographiques, 4th ed., Subsidia hagiographica 18a (Brussels, 1955). 30 V. Christides, C. Høgel, and J. P. Monferrer Salas, eds, The Martyrdom of Athanasius of Klysma. A Saint from the Egyptian Desert (Athens, 2012). 31 Ehrhard, Überlieferung und Bestand, 3, pp. 926–27.

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Had it entered a liturgical (and non-local) collection, these features would probably have vanished. Local details or passages reflecting assumed knowledge of these (author names, place descriptions or local communities, for instance) must have occurred in previous versions of many of the standardized texts. Moreover, given the free rein that copyists allowed themselves in transcribing hagiographical texts (how else to explain the many variants?), such details were likely to be expunged. Once expelled, they would be irretrievable – and were probably unwanted – for later copyists/rewriters. There was a harsh policy for minor writers in Byzantium, a fact that is hardly commented upon by Greek writers. However, the eleventh-century Georgian translator, Eprem Mtsire (“the Small”), who was intimately familiar with Byzantine procedures, explains in a colophon that change was allowed in saints’ lives, unless the text was by a famous author.32 Eprem was speaking in the context of translation, but what he had observed were Byzantine habits in dealing with Greek hagiographical texts.

Metaphrasis Allowed intervention into hagiographical texts is obviously what we also witness with the rise and flourishing of metaphrasis, a major transforming event in the literary history of Byzantine hagiography. Beginning probably from a rhetorical school milieu, authors as John of Sardis, Niketas the Paphlagonian, and then Symeon Metaphrastes, on a scale surpassing his predecessors, transformed a great number – and a very representative selection – of the standardized texts into texts of a higher stylistic level, or, to put it more precisely, into the style that most new texts appeared in at the time.33 In the Byzantine manner of employing the word, “metaphrasis” meant not only new versions of a higher stylistic level, but also versification.34 The importance of this for hagiography, other types of literature, and notions of sainthood have long been noticed and studied.35 But if we assess the incentives and procedures of metaphrasis

32 Høgel, Symeon Metaphrastes, pp. 47–48. 33 See Høgel, Symeon Metaphrastes; Resh, “Toward a Byzantine Definition;” and Flusin, “Vers la Métaphrase”. 34 K. Demoen, “John Geometres’ Iambic Life of Saint Panteleemon. Text, Genre and Metaphrastic Style,” in Philomathestatos. Studies in Greek Patristic and Byzantine Texts Presented to Jacques Noret for his Sixty-Fifth Birthday, Orientalia Lovaniensia Analecta 137, eds, B. Janssens, B. Roosen, and P. Van Deun (Leuven, 2004), pp. 165–84. 35 See also E. Peyr, “Zur Umarbeitung rhetorischer Texte durch Symeon Metaphrastes,” Jahrbuch der Ősterreichischen Byzantinistik 42 (1992), 143–55; E. Schiffer, “Metaphrastic Lives and Earlier Metaphraseis of Saints’ Lives,” in Metaphrasis. Redactions and Audiences in Middle Byzantine Hagiography, ed. C. Høgel (Bergen, 1996), pp. 22–42; and D. Krausmüller, “Fainting Fits and their Causes. A Topos in Two Middle Byzantine Metaphraseis by Nicetas the Paphlagonian and Nicephorus Ouranos,” Golden Horn 9.1 (2001–02), 4–12.

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in the light of the standardization described above, a number of features make even more sense, while others lead us perhaps to renewed questioning. It has long been noted, at least, since Lackner’s article of 1984, that many texts rewritten by Symeon Metaphrastes included supplementary information from other texts, although they were based on one older account.36 Given the historical or documentary nature of many of these secondary sources, Symeon Metaphrastes must have shown quite some energy in retrieving additional historical information on the saints. As the case of the letters of Theodore Graptos shows, which are quoted verbatim in Symeon’s rewriting of Theodore’s life, such secondary material could appear in its original wording, even if it did not conform to general high stylistic demands. It seems, therefore, that metaphrasis, apart from elevating the style of hagiographical accounts, also functioned towards a reinclusion of (lost) historical material. This obviously works in the exact opposite way of the standardization described above and this endeavour may also be seen as a response to the criticism that old lives were facing in the age of metaphrasis. Psellos tells us that older saints’ lives had become a laughing stock.37 By the time metaphrasis came in vogue, and especially with Symeon Metaphrastes, we can say that the process of standardizing had met a contrary movement. Mouvance, to use Zumthor’s concept, can take many ways, but it cannot completely retrace its path.38 What Symeon did was not to re-establish old versions, but he may have deemed that his versions were pushing against a general down-washing of saints’ lives that had a long tradition in Byzantium. He, and perhaps other metaphrasts, was actually worried about the loss of historical information, a loss for which he himself was blamed much later.39 In any case, the two processes of rewriting – first standardization, then metaphrasis – probably partly overlapping in time, ended up yielding a rich material of regained information for us, in highly polished versions of Byzantine saints’ lives. The clear distinction between standardization and metaphrasis would not always be so clear. To some degree, metaphrasis would also imply standardization. Removal of author names and narrative voices was also a feature of Metaphrastic intrusion into old texts, and this would – and now consciously – work towards aligning the texts, just as was the case of the 36 See W. Lackner, “Zu Editionsgeschichte, Textgestalt und Quellen der Passio S. Polyeucti des Symeon Metaphrastes,” in Byzantios. Festschrift für Herbert Hunger zum 70. Geburstag, eds, W. Hörandner, J. Koder, O. Kresten and E. Trapp (Vienna, 1984), pp. 221–31 and C. Høgel, “The Actual Words of Theodore Graptos: A Byzantine Saint’s Letter as Inserted Document,” in Medieval Letters. Between Fiction and Document, Utrecht Studies in Medieval Literacy 33, eds, C. Høgel and E. Bartoli (Turnhout, 2015), pp. 307–16. 37 I. Ševčenko, “Levels of Style in Byzantine Prose,” in Greek Literature: Greek Literature in the Byzantine Period, ed. G. Nagy (New York, 2001; repr. of Jahrbuch der Österreichischen Byzantinistik 31.1 [1981] 289–312), pp. 199–222, especially pp. 211–12. 38 P. Zumthor, Essai de poétique médiévale (Paris, 1972), ch. 2. 39 See BHG (Brussels, 1895), p. viii, where Symeon is called a funestissimus homo, a “most destructive person” for this reason.

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standardization described above. But in this case, since the removal of old authors and narrators meant that Symeon – and other metaphrasts – now figured as authors and/or narrators of the metaphrased texts, the redactional intervention would go against the common grain of standardization that implied anonymization. Metaphrasis would make texts perform even more univocally but in menologia, now carrying an author’s name. It may have been Niketas the Paphlagonian who composed the first authored liturgical collection of saints’ lives, but Symeon Metaphrastes would become the emblematic author of the genre.40 Authorship in his collection was not turned into a completely unified notion, not least since some high-status texts included in his collection would, in a sense, be double-authored by their original author in the title but also by Symeon, whose name would appear first in many volumes of his Menologion.41 In some cases, this led to confusion, since an original “I” would be taken to be that of the rewriter, as in the case of the life of Theoktiste.42 In his attempts to find biographical information on Symeon Metaphrastes, Psellos made the mistake (or followed a general trend?) of reading Niketas Magistros’ narratorial “I” as if it were Symeon Metaphrastes speaking. This led to incorrect dating and misplaced biographical information, but it would certainly not have made the reading of Symeon’s texts less enjoyable.43

Conclusions What has, then, emerged from this overview of rewriting in Byzantium is that it took two main courses, standardization and metaphrasis (understood as the specific use made of this concept in Byzantium, as a general upgrading of the style and status of hagiographical texts). Standardization seems to have been the earlier tendency, rising partly from a general attitude in Byzantium to care little about lesser-known authors and, by implication, the exact wording of their texts; but partly also from the very fact that hagiographical texts – martyr accounts, lives, or translations of relics – were placed side by side in collections. Unknown narrators and detailed information, often supposing 40 On Niketas the Paphlagonian, see S. A. Paschalides, Νικήτας Δαβίδ Παφλαγών. Το πρόσωπο και το έργο του, Βυζαντινὰ Κείμενα καὶ Μελέται 28 (Thessalonica, 1999). 41 This is at least the case for many Metaphrastic volumes (of which we do not have any original version or autograph). As a canonized author, Symeon Metaphrastes could also be put in conjunction with other saints, see, for example, Vatican City, Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana, MS Vat. Palat. gr. 1 (now available at https://www.dbbe.ugent.be/occurrences/17169), which has a book epigram referring to Symeon (Metaphrastes), whose brilliance in words is met with the brilliance of another Symeon, namely the Stylite. The epigram comes right before the life of Symeon the Stylite, the very first saint in volume 1 of the Metaphrastic collection. See also Ehrhard, Überlieferung und Bestand, 2, p. 343. 42 Høgel, Symeon Metaphrastes. 43 See the introduction to S. Papaioannou, Christian Novels from the Menologion of Symeon Metaphrastes, Dumbarton Oaks Medieval Library 45 (Cambridge, Mass., 2017), pp. vii–xxvi.

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local knowledge, would now seem ephemeral to readers and copyists. This whole process informed the status of these texts, as well as the actual words. Texts by well-known authors were, however, left untouched, more or less, often with the retention of author names; others were reworked and, in many cases, anonymized. Types of saints and/or texts would now enter into a more fixed taxonomy, even if titles did not end up forming a clear and consistent system. This widespread standardization was what caused the genre, at some point, to become a laughing stock to the literati, as we are told, especially in various laudations of Symeon Metaphrastes. Hagiography was a genre dealing with a serious subject, but standardization ended up leaving a downgraded impression, from which only metaphrasis could save it. Starting as a school exercise, metaphrasis soon entered liturgical collections around the turn of the ninth century, at least from Niketas the Paphlagonian. With Symeon Metaphrastes, they all but replaced the old texts, transforming the genre into high-status literature, with a real – and soon canonized – author voicing it. Some implications of standardization continued to work into metaphrasis (primarily the silencing of former authors and narrators), but the main feature was to save the account from ridicule, and an important aspect in this may have been the perceived lack of historical (and individualizing) information. This was salvaged not least through Symeon Metaphrastes’ clear endeavour to even include original letters in his texts and, in general, to insert information from secondary sources into his rewriting. Therefore, what this chapter has argued for is that within the Byzantine rewriting of hagiography, we need to distinguish between two tendencies, standardization and metaphrasis. Even if the two overlap – in being ways of introducing changes to texts, and also in various secondary ways – they still point to opposite tendencies: the first, to turn a variegated and locally-orientated text into a uniform narrative suitable for a collection; the second, to make such and other texts meet the high demands of the urban literati and others, who now expected more than simple narrations of sainthood. The two tendencies also overlap in time, but standardization seems more widespread in the early period, even if lack of evidence and the possibility of dating the instances we know make our knowledge rather weakly supported. Much better are our possibilities of following the process of metaphrasis – the Byzantines even offered a precise term for it. This seems to have risen in the ninth century and culminated in the second half of the tenth century. Both tendencies can be subsumed under the concept of rewriting, which then works as their general denomination.

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Daria Resh

The First Metaphrast: John, Bishop of Sardis

Due to the exceptional role of the Menologion of Symeon Metaphrastes, the genre of metaphrasis holds a special place in discussions of middle-Byzantine hagiography. Its precise development, nevertheless, still eludes us. One way to study metaphrasis is to situate it in a wider movement of hagiographical rewriting that, though attested also earlier, began to flourish from the ninth century onwards, especially within the literary elite of Constantinople.1 This is a period when rewritings belonging to a variety of literary genres and forms were produced. These included encomia, abridged versions, hymnography, as well as two influential collections, the Synaxarion of Constantinople and the Menologion of Symeon Logothetes, known as Metaphrastes. Culminating in the work of Symeon, hagiographical metaphraseis definitely belong to this wider context. Simultaneously, however, we may also approach metaphrasis from a narrower perspective. The Byzantine use of the term suggests that metaphrasis was considered as a distinct genre (different, that is, from encomia and abridged versions, for example), which foregrounded the narrative aspect of saints’ lives and



1 For middle-Byzantine hagiography and its emphasis on rewriting, see S. Efthymiadis, “Hagiography from the ‘Dark Age’ to the Age of Symeon Metaphrastes (Eighth-Tenth Centuries),” in ARCBH, 1, pp. 95–142; M. Detoraki, “Un parent pauvre de la réécriture hagiographique: l’abrégé,” in Remanier, métaphraser: fonctions et techniques de la réécriture dans le monde byzantin, ed. S. Marjanović-Dušanić and B. Flusin (Belgrade, 2011), pp. 71–84 and B. Flusin, “Vers la métaphrase,” in Remanier, métaphraser, pp. 85–99; S. Efthymiadis and N. Kalogeras, “Audience, Language and Patronage in Byzantine Hagiography,” in ARCBH, 2, pp. 247–84, and C. Høgel, “Symeon Metaphrastes and the Metaphrastic Movement,” in ARCBH, 2, pp. 161–80; and most recently B. Flusin, “Entre innovation et tradition: hagiographie nouvelle et saints anciens (VIIIe–Xe s.),” in Proceedings of the 23rd International Congress of Byzantine Studies: Plenary Papers: Belgrade, 22–27 August, 2016, eds, S. MarjanovićDušanić (Belgrade, 2016), pp. 13–34. For earlier attestations of the practice, see C. Rapp, “Byzantine Hagiographers as Antiquarians, 7th to 10th century,” in Bosphorus: Essays in Honour of Cyril Mango, eds, C. Rapp, S. Efthymiadis, and D. Tsougarakis (Amsterdam, 1995 = Byzantinische Forschungen 21), pp. 31–44. Metaphrasis in Byzantine Literature, ed. by Anne P. Alwis, Martin Hinterberger and Elisabeth Schiffer, Studies in Byzantine History and Civilization, 17 (Turnhout, 2021), pp. 43–70 FHG10.1484/M.SBHC-EB.5.123037

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martyrs’ passions through the use of rhetorical devices.2 From tenth-century manuscript collections, we know that several passions were revised and titled as metaphraseis before Symeon Metaphrastes.3 This evidence triggers a series of questions about the early history of metaphrasis as a separate genre. When were these first metaphraseis written? Whose interests and preferences did the genre address? What functions did it serve? Who were the first metaphrasts? This contribution seeks to identify the author of the first datable metaphraseis in Byzantine hagiographic collections and, through the reconstruction of his background and networks, to chart some of the social contexts of the first metaphrastic activity in Constantinople. While most of the first metaphraseis were transmitted anonymously – and thus do not offer definite answers to the above questions – two such texts, BHG 215i on St Barbara (which I shall abbreviate as MB) and BHG 1334 on St Nikephoros (MN), carry an author’s name; furthermore, both were written in a manner that distinguishes them from ancient martyria as well as from encomia. In addition, Symeon Metaphrastes used both texts in order to create the corresponding versions for his Menologion (BHG 216 and 1332). The author in question is John, bishop of Sardis, usually identified with his ninth-century namesake who lived in the years of the second Iconoclasm. John’s hagiographical works present us, therefore, with the earliest dated case of metaphrasis in the history of Byzantine hagiography. Earlier research has rescued John from complete oblivion and, in fact, has presented him as a major proponent of classical learning in ninth-century Byzantium. It appears that John carried the title of synkellos, was linked to the circle of patriarch Tarasios (d. 806), corresponded with Theodore Stoudites (759–826), and authored, apart from the two metaphraseis, commentaries on Aphthonios’ Progymnasmata and Hermogenes’ Art of Rhetoric.4 Yet the

2 For the Byzantine use of the term “metaphrasis” being applied to hagiographical texts in rhetorical theory see S. A. Paschalides, “Παρατηρήσεις στὶς μεταφράσεις τῶν βυζαντινῶν ἁγιολογικῶν κειμένων,” in Ἐν Ἁγίοις: εἰδικὰ θέματα βυζαντινῆς καὶ μεταβυζαντινῆς ἁγιολογίας, ed. S. A. Paschalides (Thessalonike, 2011), pp. 73–86, and D. Resh, “Toward a Byzantine Definition of Metaphrasis,” Greek, Roman, and Byzantine Studies 55 (2015), 754–87. For metaphrasis as a narrative genre, see D. Resh, “What is Metaphrasis? The Case of John of Sardis (BHG 215i),” in Metaphrasis: A Byzantine Concept of Rewriting and Its Hagiographical Products, The Medieval Mediterranean 125, eds, S. Constantinou and C. Høgel (Leiden, 2020), pp. 141–75, and my doctoral dissertation “Metaphrasis in Byzantine Hagiography: the Early History of the Genre (c. 800–1000)” published open access at the digital repository of Brown University: https://repository.library.brown.edu/studio/item/bdr:792857/ 3 S. Efthymiadis, “John of Sardis and the Metaphrasis of the Passio of St Nikephoros the Martyr (BHG 1334),” Rivista di studi bizantini e neoellenici, n.s. 28 (1991), 23–44, at 28–29. 4 Ioannis Sardiani commentarium in Aphthonii progymnasmata, ed. H. Rabe (Leipzig, 1928), pp. xvi–xx; S. Efthymiadis, “John of Sardis,” 23–26; R. Hock, The Chreia and Ancient Rhetoric: Commentaries on Aphthonius’ Progymnasmata (Atlanta, 2012), pp. 9–36. See also the controversial arguments of K. Alpers, Untersuchungen zu Johannes Sardianos und seinem Kommentar zu den Progymnasmata des Aphthonios (Braunschweig, 2013), pp. 39–43, with the response of J. Signes Codoñer, “Leer a los clásicos en al Renacimiento bizantino,” Minerva

t h e fi r s t m e tap h r as t: j ohn, b i sho p o f sard i s

fragmented state of his biographical data as well as the question of his identity pose a triple problem. First, the identification of (a) the author of the two hagiographical metaphraseis as the same person and then (b) the author of rhetorical commentaries and that of the hagiographical works requires further confirmation. Secondly, although our knowledge about Byzantine bishops of Sardis is far from complete,5 four such bishops with the name John are actually attested; how do we know that we have identified the right one? And thirdly, once we secure the above identification, what more can we say about our author and how does it expand our knowledge about the early history of metaphrasis as a hagiographic genre? Let us tackle these questions one by one.

Two Different Authors? Scholarship thus far has assumed that the metaphraseis on St Barbara and St Nikephoros belong to the same author. Yet the relevant evidence does warrant examination as the ensuring results present us with a series of important observations. The two oldest manuscripts that transmit the two texts – Paris, Bibliothèque nationale de France, MS gr. 1452 and MS gr. 1458 – are both produced in the tenth century and name John (arch)bishop of Sardis as the author: Par. gr. 1452, fol. 77v: “Μετάφρασις τοῦ ἁγίου μάρτυρος Νικηφόρου συγγραφὲν [sic] παρὰ Ἰωάννου ἐπισκόπου Σάρδεων.”6 Par. gr. 1458, fol. 46r: “Ἄθλησις τῆς ἁγίας μεγαλομάρτυρος Βαρβάρας καὶ Ἰουλιανῆς τῆς συνάθλου αὐτῆς· συγγραφεῖσα παρὰ Ἰωάννου ἀρχιεπισκόπου Σάρδεων.”7





25 (2012), 253–58. See also B. D. MacDougall, “John of Sardis’ Commentary on Aphthonius’ Progymnasmata: Logic in Ninth-Century Byzantium,” Greek, Roman and Byzantine Studies 57 (2017), 721–44 on the use of Aristotelian logic in John of Sardis’ works. 5 The first attempt to compile such a list was undertaken in M. Le Quien, Oriens christianus in quatuor patriarchatus digestus, quo exhibentur ecclesiae, patriarchae caeterique praesules totius orientis, 1 (Paris, 1740), pp. 859–66. Germanos of Sardis extended and revised Le Quien’s catalogue: Germanos metropolites Sardeon, “Ἱστορικὴ μελέτη περὶ τῆς ἐκκλησίας τῶν Σάρδεων καὶ τῶν ἐπισκόπων αὐτῆς,” pts. 1 and 2, Ὁρθοδοξία 3 (1928), 159–73, 217–25, 274–84, 305–17, 356–69, 411–23; 4 (1929), 16–27, 60–72, 102–10, 192–209. Germanos refers to an unpublished work of Staurakes Aristarches (1834–1925), an Ottoman Greek intellectual, which I was unable to locate in any archive or private collection. See also additions to Germanos’ catalogue by V. Laurent, “A propos de ‘l’Oriens Christianus.’ Notes de géographie et d’histoire ecclésiastiques,” Échos d’Orient 29 (1930), 176–92, and C. Foss, Byzantine and Turkish Sardis (Cambridge, Mass., 1976), pp. 135–36. None of the catalogues is complete. The appendix at the end of this article offers an updated list of Sardian bishops from 787 to the early eleventh century. 6 Edited in Efthymiadis, “John of Sardis,” 33. Notably, Paris. gr. 1452 is the single manuscript for the MN. 7 It should be noted that although our text is titled ἄθλησις in Paris. gr. 1458, it is identified as a metaphrasis in a later testimony, Vatican City, Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana, MS Barb. gr. 517, fol. 69r. For a more detailed discussion of this title and the manuscript transmission in

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This attribution is further supported by a series of parallel features shared by the texts. There are two main points of convergence: comparable patterns in authorial interventions and the use of similar expressions. Before presenting particular examples, we should note that for this comparison, the resemblance in the manner of reworking the ancient martyria is not taken into consideration. For even though both metaphraseis paraphrase the corresponding original passions rather closely,8 this similarity can be attributed to the fact that both texts derive from the same school or rely on the same technique. It is where the metaphrast deviates from the text of the ancient passion that individual features emerge, and it is these deviations that will concern us here. Let us then analyze an episode from the MN in comparison with corresponding passages in the MB. The MN narrates a story about two Christian friends, a priest called Saprikios and a layman named Nikephoros, who fall out with each other because of an argument. While Nikephoros undertakes multiple attempts of reconciliation, Saprikios refuses to forgive him. When the persecution of Christians begins, Saprikios is first to appear at a trial. Soon the governor sentences him to capital punishment. When he is being dragged to the place of the execution, Nikephoros begs him for forgiveness one last time, yet Saprikios decides to keep the grudge. Suddenly he, who had already endured many tortures and was about to become a Christian martyr, is unable to withstand the fear of death and agrees to sacrifice to the pagan gods in order to save his life. Nikephoros, instead, professes his Christian faith and becomes a martyr. Here the story ends. For our author, Saprikios’ transformation from a potential martyr to an apostate attracted special interest. Most of his interventions in the original story aim to explain the reasons for Saprikios’ moral evolution. The elaboration follows a particular pattern. First, having paraphrased the history of the conflict between the two friends, the author intrudes in order to explain how Saprikios should have acted (MN 5.9–15): (1) Ἀλλὰ δέον τὸν ἱερᾶσθαι λαχόντα θεῷ,9 τὸν καὶ τὰς ἑτέρων φιλονείκους διαθέσεις ὀφείλοντα διαλύειν, ἀνεπιλήπτως ἀναφέρειν τὴν μυστικὴν λατρείαν παρὰ τῆς θείας κελευόμενον ἐντολῆς, διαγνῶντα τὴν διαφορὰν ὅθεν μεθωδεύθη, τὴν τοιαύτην ἀποκρούσασθαι προσβολὴν καὶ τὸν φίλον, εἰ καί τι παρολισθαίνοντα



general of MB see Resh, Metaphrasis in Byzantine Hagiography, pp. 180–233, as well as my forthcoming critical edition that will appear in D. Konstan and D. Resh, Fragile Saints: The Legends of Barbara and Katherine in the Greek Tradition (4th–10th centuries) (Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, in preparation). All passages from the MB cited below are also taken from this edition. 8 See Efthymiadis, “John of Sardis,” pp. 29–30 for the MN and Resh, “What is Metaphrasis,” pp. 151–59 for the MB. 9 Italicized phrases anticipate corresponding wording in passages from the MB cited in the main text below.

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ἑώρα, πρὸς τοῦτο παρακαλέσαι καὶ τὸ ἀπολωλὸς ἀνασῴσασθαι, τῆς εἰρήνης τοῦτο μὲν οὐκ ἐποίησεν, ἔμενε δὲ μηνιῶν τῷ φίλῳ ἐπὶ χρόνον συχνόν It was necessary for the man who was allotted to serve God as a priest, the one obliged to resolve also the pugnacious temperament of others, and ordered by God’s command to offer spiritual worship in a blameless fashion, to discern by whom the argument was deceitfully created, fight off this attack, and encourage his friend in this respect (even if he saw him making some small error), and save the lost one; yet he did not do this work of peace, but he remained infuriated toward his friend for a long time The author of the MN then provides a maxim, a gnome,10 explaining why Saprikios did not do the right thing (MN 6.1–3): (2) Ἀλλὰ ψυχὴ ἅπαξ ἑαυτὴν εἰς ἰλὺν ἐνσχεθῆναι παραχωρήσασα τοῦ τὸ ἄυλον αὐτῆς καὶ καθαρὸν ἐπικαλύπτοντος βυθοῦ οὐκ ἐθέλει τὸ ἴδιον ἐπιγινώσκειν ἀξίωμα. But once a soul has allowed itself to be caught up in the mire of the depth covering its immateriality and purity, it does not want to recognize its own dignity. Following this, our author shows that Saprikios had multiple occasions to repent: the layman Nikephoros undertook several attempts for reconciliation, but nothing could touch Saprikios. The author of the MN develops this thought with a cascade of negations (MN 6.24–28): (3) Ἀλλ᾽οὐχ᾽ εὑρίσκετό τι τὸ ἐκεῖνον ὁμαλίζoν καὶ δυσωποῦν· οὐχ αἱ συνεχεῖς πρεσβεῖαι τῶν φίλων, οὐχ ἡ τοῦ εἰς ἑαυτὸν ἀνατιθέντος τὸ σφάλμα ὑπόπτωσις, οὐχ ἡ τοῦ “ἄφετε καὶ ἀφεθήσεται ὑμῖν” ἐπαγγελία, οὐχ ἡ τοῦ μὴ ἀφεθῆναι παρὰ τῷ οὐρανίῳ πατρὶ τὰ παραπτώματα τοῖς μὴ τὸν ὅμοιον ἔλεον ἐπανῃρημένοις ἀπόφασις. Nothing could be found that would smooth and persuade him; neither the constant intercessions of friends, nor the capitulation of the one who took the responsibility of the fault, nor the promise of “forgive and you will be forgiven” (Mt. 6.14) nor the declaration that the heavenly father will not forgive the mistakes of those who do not show the same mercy as He does (Mt. 6.15, Mk. 11.25–26). Lastly, the author of the MN concludes that Saprikios failed to behave as a Christian because he did not wish to withhold the unreasonable impulse of his soul (MN 7.37–39): (4) Διαπεσεῖν γὰρ τοὺς τοῦ θεοῦ μᾶλλον ᾑρετίσατο νόμους ἢ τὸ τῆς ἑαυτοῦ ψυχῆς ἀλόγως ἐξαχθὲν ὅρμημα καταστεῖλαι.

10 Identified as such on the margin of Paris. gr. 1452, fol. 79v.

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For he chose to let the laws of God break apart than to restrain the impulse irrationally coming out of his own soul. This presentation of Saprikios’ moral failure in the MN has direct parallels in the metaphrasis of Barbara’s story, a tale about a young Christian virgin who rebels against her pagan father. Just like Saprikios, Dioskoros, the father, undergoes an inner transformation as he metamorphoses from a loving parent to persecutor of his own daughter.11 In the beginning, Dioskoros is very fond of his daughter, just as Saprikios is fond of Nikephoros. When Barbara professes her faith, Dioskoros becomes possessed by anger and is ready to kill her; yet, like Saprikios, he is given a chance to repent when a nearby rock miraculously hides Barbara from the scene of the potential murder. The author of the MB elaborates on Dioskoros’ transformation following the same pattern that we observed in the MN, though in a different order. First, he provides a gnomic statement, which explains the reason for Dioskoros’ failure to make the right choice. The underlying thought of the gnome – that “a soul blinded by passion cares only for one thing, its own impulse, and does not listen to those inviting it to salvation” – echoes the gnome in the corresponding MN passage (no. 2 above), and reads as follows (MB 7.9–11): (1) Ἀλλ’ οὐκ ἦν καὶ τῶν λίθων ἀναισθητότερον ἐκεῖνον τῷ παραδόξῳ μετατραπῆναι τοῦ θαύματος· τοιοῦτο γὰρ ἡ τυφλώττουσα τῷ πάθει ψυχή: πρὸς ἓν μόνον ὁρᾷ, τὸ αὑτῆς ὅρμημα, καὶ τοῖς πρὸς σωτηρίαν ἐκκαλουμένοις οὐ πείθεται.12 But the incredible fact of the miracle also could not change the man who was less sensitive than the rocks. For such is a soul blinded by passion: it cares only for one thing, its own impulse, and does not listen to those inviting it to salvation. Next, the author of MB declares what Dioskoros should have done, constructing the phrase in the same way as we saw in the MN (passage no. 1), and then observes that Dioskoros followed his unreasonable impulse, as in MN no. 4 (MB 7.11–12): (2–3) Δέον γὰρ τοῦτον μεταθεῖναι τὸν ἀνήμερον τρόπον καὶ ἄγριον τῷ νεουργηθέντι σημείῳ. Ὁ δὲ, τῆς αὐτῆς εἴχετο μᾶλλον ἀλόγου ὁρμῆς. He ought to have changed his fierce and wild temper because of the newly shown sign; instead, he kept pursuing the same unreasonable impulse.

11 Discussed in Resh, “What is Metaphrasis?,” pp. 171–74. 12 This is also marked as a gnomic statement in the manuscripts of the MB.

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Using the same rhetorical phrasing as in the MN no. 3, the MB presents a Dioskoros who could have changed his mind on several occasions, but whose heart could not be softened (MB 8.9–13): (4) Ἀκολουθήσας οὖν τῇ δείξει τῶν ἐκείνου δακτύλων, ὁ τῇ κλήσει μόνον ἀλλ’ οὐχὶ καὶ τῇ φύσει πατήρ, καὶ τὴν ἁγίαν ἐν τῷ ὄρει εὑρών, οὔτε ταῖς ἐπενεχθείσαις αὐτῇ τότε πληγαῖς μαλαχθείς, οὔτε μετὰ τὸ ἑλκῦσαι καὶ μετὰ πολλῆς καταγαγεῖν ἐκ τοῦ ὄρους τῆς βίας τὸν ἴδιον κενώσας θυμόν, ὁ θηρίου παντὸς ὠμότερος. After he followed the sign of the shepherd’s fingers – he, who was a father by name only, but not by his nature! – and found the saintly maiden on the mountain, neither did he soften his stance after delivering blows at that very moment, nor did he exhaust his own anger later after he had dragged and pulled her down from the mountain with much violence; he, who was crueler than any beast! The two metaphraseis use symmetrical rhetoric in constructing Saprikios’ and Dioskoros’ characters. The same applies for expressions. In the passages presented above, we can note various examples of parallel phraseology: MN διαγνῶντα τὴν διαφοράν (5.11–12)

MB

ἔμενε δὲ μηνιῶν τῷ φίλῳ ἐπὶ χρόνον συχνόν (5.15)

καὶ οἷον αὐτῇ φῶς ἐνηύγασε διαγνοῦσα (5.19) χρόνον μέλλων ἐν τούτοις διέλκειν συχνόν (3.13)

τοὺς νοεροὺς ἐξετύφλωσεν ὀφθαλμοὺς … ἡ τοῦ πάθους τῆς ὀργῆς ἐπικράτεια (10.37–39)

οἷον ὀμίχλη τις, τοῖς αὐτῶν ἐπικάθηται ὀφθαλμοῖς, τῶν τῆς ψυχῆς παθῶν ἡ ἀνάμνησις (1.3–4)

ἀλλ᾽οὗτος καὶ βαρβάρων γέγονεν ἀπηνέστερος καὶ θηρίων ὠμότερος εἰς ἄλλην τινὰ μορφὴν ἑαυτὸν μεταπλάσας, οὐκ ἔχουσαν ἐμψύχῳ παρατίθεσθαι φύσει (10.8–11) … Πῶς οὐχὶ τοῦ ἡμέρου ζῴου τῷ προκαλύμματι ἄλλην ἔνδον ἀτίθασον ἐπεφέρετο φύσιν καὶ ἄγριον (10.14–15)

ἀλλ’ οὐκ ἦν καὶ τῶν λίθων ἀναισθητότερον ἐκεῖνον τῷ παραδόξῳ μετατραπῆναι τοῦ θαύματος· δέον γὰρ τοῦτον μεταθεῖναι τὸν ἀνήμερον τρόπον καὶ ἄγριον (7.9–12)

ἡμᾶς ταῖς ἀλόγοις χειρουμένους ὁρμαῖς (1.4–5)

ὁ δὲ, τῆς αὐτῆς εἴχετο μᾶλλον ἀλόγου ὁρμῆς (7.12)

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To these we can add a few more that appear elsewhere in the texts: MN

MB

τοῦ παρενοχλοῦντος πάθους ἀπαλλαγήν (1.19) τὴν τοιαύτην συνδρομήν (2.30)

τῆς περιεχούσης σκοτομήνης ἀπαλλαγή (1.9–10) τῆς ἐνταῦθα ἕνεκα συνδρομῆς (1.10)

ἀναγέσθω γοῦν εἰς ἀρχὴν ὁ λόγος καὶ ἡ τῆς ἀθλήσεως αὐτῆς ἀρχὴν ταῖς φυλομάρτυσιν ἀκοαῖς ἡ περιοχὴ τῆς λαμβανέτω διήγησις· καὶ δεικνύτω τοῖς τοῦ ἀθλοφόρου διηγήσεως ἐντιθέσθω φιλομάρτυσιν (1.14–15) (3.14–15) τό τε ζέον αὐτοῦ πρὸς τὸν θεὸν ἀγάπης (3.3) τῆς ἐντεῦθεν ζωῆς μεθιστᾶν (7.5–6) μὴ τὴν τῶν χριστιανῶν ἐξομνύμενος πίστιν (7.10–11)

διὰ τὸ ζέον τοῦ πρὸς Χριστὸν ἔρωτος (1.16) τὴν ἐντεῦθεν βιαίως προλείπειν ζωήν (2.5) τὴν ἀληθῆ ταύτην πίστιν ἐξόμνυσθαι (2.4)

θάνατον ἐπανατεινομέναις (8.9)

ἐπανατεινάμενος ξίφος (7.2)

τὸ ἐκχυθὲν αὐτῷ προτεινόμενος αἷμα (9.15) τὸ χυθὲν αἷμα προτείνουσα (15.10–11) ἐναργῶς πεπληρῶσθαι τοῦ Σολομῶντος ἡ ἐναργὴς τῶν πάλαι τῷ προφήτῃ λόγιον (10.39) ἀπόδειξις (9.8–9)

Perhaps more parallel features could be demonstrated. However, the above seem sufficient to confirm the manuscript attribution of the two metaphraseis to a single author, John, bishop of Sardis. *** Let us turn to our next identification problem, namely, whether the author of the metaphraseis is identical with the author of the rhetorical commentaries. The single authorship of the latter is beyond refutation. With justified confidence, Hugo Rabe (followed recently by Michel Patillon) ascribed to John of Sardis commentaries on Hermogenes’ On Issues, on (Pseudo-) Hermogenes’ On Invention, and on Aphthonios’ Progymnasmata. The latter is the only one of the three that is available in a critical edition of the full text.13 13 Rabe, Ioannis Sardiani commentarium, for the commentary on Progymnasmata; H. Rabe, Prolegomenon sylloge (Leipzig, 1931), pp. lxxxix–xcii and 318–28 for the commentary on On Issues; and pp. c–civ and 351–60 for the commentary on On Invention. C. Walz (Walz, Rhetores Graeci 6, pp. 507–43) published part of this work but falsely attributed it to Georgios Diairetes. M. Patillon routinely (and correctly) refers to the author of this text as John of Sardis (Pseudo-Hermogène, L’Invention – Anonyme, Synopse des Exordes – Anonyme, Scolies au traité ‘Sur l’Invention’ du Pseudo-Hermogène, Corpus Rhetoricum 3.1–2 [Paris, 2008–12]). G. Kennedy, Greek Rhetoric under Christian Emperors (Princeton, 1983), p. 275, Hock, The

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Though a critical edition of the two remaining commentaries could provide more conclusive evidence for establishing their authorship, here we adopt the opinion of Rabe and Patillon and turn to the question of whether the rhetorician and the hagiographer are indeed the same person. This is not a new question. It has been postulated that there were two John of Sardis in the ninth century – the second of which, the rhetorician, was supposedly active during its last decades14 – even though no evidence was offered to corroborate this assumption. But is it possible to prove the opposite? Lexically and thematically, John of Sardis’ metaphraseis are expectedly different to the rhetorical commentaries attributed to him. Nevertheless, we can tag several parallels between these texts. For our purposes, it will again suffice to indicate only some major convergences. In his commentary to Aphthonios’ Progymnasmata, John of Sardis comments on the particular importance of paraphrase in developing the rhetorical skills of future orators and, in this context, is the first Byzantine teacher to mention the technique of metaphrasis.15 This use of the term in rhetorical theory is an almost singular occurrence in Byzantine rhetorical manuals and suggests a strong link between John the rhetor and John the author of the two metaphraseis. Similarly, in his commentary on Hermogenes’ On Invention – still unpublished, with the exception of a few fragments – John of Sardis displays a keen interest in applying (Pseudo-)Hermogenes’ methods to the composition of panegyrical speeches on saints. An examination of the few excerpts edited by Christian Walz already demonstrates this interest (Walz, Rhetores Graeci 6, pp. 507–43). John explains that Hermogenes’ guidelines for judicial speeches (λόγος δικανικός) should be applied to political (συμβουλευτικός) and epideictic (ἐπιδεικτικός) discourse as well. With the latter, as he clearly states, he also has in mind those celebrating in church (τοὺς πανηγυριστὰς τοὺς ἐν τῇ ἐκκλησίᾳ).16 John then focuses on the composition of proems and even drafts two sample prefaces for hagiographical panegyrics on the subject of the Forty Martyrs of Sebasteia. Thus, we are presented with a rhetorician who, in the context of discursive training at school, is concerned with the application of ancient rhetorical rules in hagiographical oratory. This is a rare, perhaps even exceptional, case when the use of hagiography is documented

Chreia, p. 13, and MacDougall, “John of Sardis’ Commentary,” 725, n. 12 contain the mistaken perception that only the introduction of John of Sardis’ commentary on On Invention survives. 14 Germanos, “Ἱστορικὴ μελέτη,” 359; Laurent, “A propos de ‘l’Oriens Christianus,’” 188; and Foss, Byzantine and Turkish Sardis, p. 136. 15 See Resh, “Toward a Byzantine Definition of Metaphrasis,” 757–61. 16 The context (as we shall see below) suggests that with the “ἐκκλησία” John indeed means “church” and not the ancient “assembly.”

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in rhetorical instruction at this level of the Byzantine curriculum before the twelfth century.17 There is more. The two sample proems contain phrases and ideas that we also encounter in the proems of the BN and the BM. Here is a list of parallels: Commentary on Invention

MN and MB

ἐν ταῖς αἰκίαις ὡς ἀσώματοι ἐνεδείξαντο (527.4–5) and ἀνυποίστοις αἰκίαις (528.14–15)

πολυειδεῖς αἰκίας … περιέχει διήγησις (MN 3.4–5).

ἥκω τῶν ἄθλων … λόγοις … ὑποζωγραφῆσαι τὰ σκάμματα (527.6–7)

τῶν μαρτύρων … παράστασις καὶ ἀθαμβὴς ἐπίδειξις ἀναζωγραφούμεναι (MN 2.18–19), and τὰ ἐκείνων ἀνακηρύττουσα σκάμματα (MN 2.28) πολλοῖς ἡ ταπεινὴ φύσις ἡμῶν ὑποκύπτουσα πάθεσιν (MN 1.1), and οἷα φύσις, αὐτόθεν τὸ ἀσθενὲς ἔχουσα, πρὸς οἵους ἀγῶνας διὰ τὸ ζέον τοῦ πρὸς Χριστὸν ἔρωτος ἐπέδωκεν ἑαυτήν (MB 1.15–16).

ὥσπερ τινὰ φύσιν ἀνίκητον τὴν ἀσθενῆ ταύτην καὶ πᾶσι τοῖς πάθεσιν εἴκουσαν ἀναδείξαντι (527.11–13)

τὸ στερρὸν18 τῆς γνώμης (527.15)

τὸ σταθερὸν αὐτοῦ τῆς γνώμης (MN 3.8)

ὑμᾶς, … ὁρῶ … σκυθρωπάζοντας, … διὰ δὲ τὸ ἄγαν σκληρὸν καὶ ἀπάνθρωπον τοῦ τυράννου … ἥκω κατηγορήσων μὲν πάνυ δικαίως ὠμότητος τυραννικῆς (528.11–17)

βλέπε μοι δὲ τυραννικὴν ἀπήνειαν καὶ ὠμότητα καὶ τῷ σκυθρωπῷ τοῦ διηγήματος ὑπόθες τὴν ἀκοήν (ΜΒ 11.16)19

Such coinciding wording provide, of course, no final proof; to some extent, we are dealing with commonplaces. Nevertheless, they reinforce, rather than disprove, the fact that we are dealing with the same author. This unique engagement of a middle-Byzantine rhetorical commentator with hagiography must be more than a mere coincidence. That John of Sardis is the author of all five texts appears the most likely hypothesis.

17 On the use of Christian topics in Byzantine rhetorical education, see S. Papaioannou, Michael Psellos: Rhetoric and Authorship in Byzantium (Cambridge, 2013), pp. 56–63. 18 Walz prints στερεόν. The correct στερρόν appears in an important testimony of John’s commentary, Vatican City, Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana, MS gr. 105 (fol. 37r), but not reproduced by Walz. 19 This is the only parallel appearing not in the proem but in the middle of the MB.

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Which One? It is time now to turn to our second problem, namely, to identify our author with a historical personality. Attested bishops of Sardis with the name John are the following: – John I (PmbZ 3200): a correspondent of Theodore Stoudites (Ep. 157 and 451), whose death in 826 offers a fixed date around which the biography of this John can be traced.20 It has been generally accepted that John I is responsible for both the hagiographical metaphraseis and the rhetorical commentaries. – John II (PmbZ 22999): there exist three seals that belong to this prelate. They can be dated between the last quarter of the tenth and the first three decades of the eleventh century.21 No other information about this person is available and, notably, he has been thus far omitted from the discussion about the identity of the author of the commentaries and the metaphraseis. – John III was active in 1071 and 1082, when he participated in the court process against John Italos. Three of his seals survive.22 – John IV lived at the time of Manuel Komnenos and signed the dethronement of patriarch Kosmas in 1147.23 The earliest manuscripts of John’s rhetorical (Paris, Bibliothèque nationale de France, MS Coislin 387) and hagiographical works (Paris. gr. 1452) can be dated to the last decades of the tenth century.24 This permits us to rule out

20 PmbZ 1838; J. Pargoire, “Saint Euthyme et Jean de Sardes,” Échos d’Orient 5 (1902), 157–61; J. Gouillard, “La vie d’Euthyme de Sardes († 831), une œuvre du patriarche Méthode,” Travaux et Mémoires 10 (1987), 1–101; and Alpers, Untersuchungen zu Johannes Sardianos, pp. 20–39. 21 G. Zacos and J. W. Nesbitt. Byzantine Lead Seals, 2 (Bern, 1984), no. 173a and 173b and J. W. Nesbitt, N. Oikonomidès, and E. McGeer, Catalogue of Byzantine Seals at Dumbarton Oaks and in the Fogg Museum of Art, 3, West, Northwest, and Central Asia Minor and the Orient (Washington, DC, 1996) no. 32.5, also at the Dumbarton Oaks Online Catalogue of Byzantine Seals at http://www.doaks.org/resources/seals/byzantine-seals/ BZS.1958.106.28/. I am deeply grateful to Dr Alexandra Wassileiou-Seibt for her help in dating the Dumbarton Oaks seal. 22 Nesbitt et al., Catalogue of Byzantine Seals, 3 no. 32.6 and V. Laurent, Le corpus des sceaux de l’Empire byzantin, 5.1–2: l’église (Paris, 1963–65), no. 367 and 368. For his participation in the trial against John Italos, see V. Grumel, Les regestes des actes du Patriarcat de Constantinople, 1, Les Actes des patriarches, fasc. 2–3: Les Regestes de 715 à 1206 (Paris, 1989), nos 900, 926, 927. 23 “Consilium Constantinopolitanum in Palatio Blachernarum in causa Cosmae Patriarchae celebratum, anno Christi 1147, 4 Februarii,” in Sacrorum conciliorum nova et amplissima collection 21, ed. J. D. Mansi (Venice, 1746), p. 705. 24 For the dating of Coislin 387, see G. Cavallo, “Scritture informali, cambio grafico e pratiche librarie a Bisanzio tra i secoli XI e XII,” in I manoscritti greci tra riflessione e dibattito: Atti del 5 Colloquio internazionale di paleografia greca, Cremona, 4–10 ottobre 1998, Papyrologica Florentina 31 (Florence, 2000), p. 221, pl. 2b. For Paris. gr. 1452, see A. Ehrhard, Überlieferung

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John III and IV. It is John II who presents the most serious problem. In theory, he could have written both the commentaries and the hagiographical works, but his existence has somehow escaped notice. Can we securely identify John of Sardis the writer either with John I or John II, and assign him precise dates?

A Learned Bishop A series of testimonia prove helpful in this regard. Some of them are already known but not fully evaluated and others have not yet been taken into consideration. From the eleventh-century teacher of rhetoric, John Doxapatres, we know that his namesake John, an author of an earlier commentary of the Progymnasmata, had served as synkellos of the patriarch in Constantinople and also became bishop of Sardis. In his Commentary on Hermogenes’ On Invention, Doxapatres complains that earlier interpreters had neglected to write a cogent introduction to Hermogenes’ book, to answer, that is, such questions as what were its subject, purpose, structure, and method of teaching. Only one commentator, John of Sardis, provided an explanation of these matters. Here is the relevant statement (Doxapatres, On the Book On Invention by Hermogenes 361.10–16; ed. Rabe25): Εἷς δέ τις, ὁ καὶ τελεώτερος ἁπάντων δόξας καὶ ἀκριβέστερος (οἶμαι δὲ τοῦτον τὸν τῇ συγκέλλων ἀξίᾳ διαπρέψαντα καὶ τὸν ἀρχιερατικὸν τῆς τῶν Σάρδεων μητροπόλεως λαβόντα διέπειν θρόνον εἶναι, ὅστις καὶ τὸ Περὶ τῶν προγυμνασμάτων τοῦ Ἀφθονίου βιβλίον ὑπομνηματίσαι νομίζεται) φαίνεται τούτων μνείαν ποιούμενος. Only one among them,26 the one who in fact appeared to be the most perfect of all and of the sharpest mind (I think that he is the one who distinguished himself with the dignity of synkellos and was appointed to the episcopal throne of the metropolis of Sardis, and who is also thought to have written the commentary on Aphthonios’ book on Progymnasmata) seems to make an account of these matters. John Doxapatres was active in the middle decades of the eleventh century.27 The tone of his remark implies that the memory of John of Sardis had already grown faint and Doxapatres could only surmise that the author of the commentaries on Aphthonios’ Progymnasmata and Hermogenes’ On Invention bearing the

und Bestand der hagiographischen und homiletischen Literatur der griechischen Kirche von den Anfängen bis zum Ende des 16. Jahrhunderts. 1. Teil: Die Überlieferung, 1 (Leipzig, 1937), pp. 577–80. 25 Rabe, Prolegomenon sylloge (Leipzig, 1931). The passage is also discussed in Rabe, Ioannis Sardiani Commentarium, p. xix. 26 i.e. commentators of Hermogenes’ On Invention. 27 ODB I, p. 660; Rabe, Prolegomenon sylloge, pp. li–lii; R. F. Hock, The Chreia, pp. 127–32.

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name John, bishop of Sardis, was identical to the homonymous bishop known to him from other sources. We may assume that this person was John I for it would be unlikely that Doxapatres would speak with such uncertainty about John II who was apparently his senior contemporary. It also seems that Doxapatres was dealing with two independent sets of records: one of an ecclesiastical and historical nature (a chronicle, a liturgical text, Stoudites’ correspondence?) preserved information about John’s career as synkellos and bishop; another, presumably a copy of John’s rhetorical commentary, contained only his name, most likely calling him ὁ Σάρδης, the same appellation that Doxapatres himself uses in order to refer to John elsewhere.28 This would explain Doxapatres’ slight hesitation in identifying John the author with the well-known bishop of the distant past. The passage quoted above is our only evidence for John’s title as synkellos. One may wonder whether Doxapatres’ reference to John as both synkellos and bishop indicates not two successive career stages but a joint position. If so, this would reflect the reality of the late tenth and eleventh centuries, when synkellos became a special distinction awarded to metropolitans (though occasionally deacons and priests could also receive this dignity). It is in this period that the compound title “μητροπολίτης καὶ σύγκελλος” emerged, which frequently appears in official documents and seals.29 While this is definitely a possibility, there is no way to either confirm or dismiss it. None of the three seals of John II, issued at different times and from different boulloteria, bears this compound title but, equally, there is no mention of John I’s appointment as synkellos elsewhere. We shall return to this issue below. An John of Sardis is also mentioned in a Byzantine treatise on the topic of the resignation of bishops, titled Λόγος ἀντιρρητικὸς πρὸς τοὺς λέγοντας μὴ δεῖν παραιτεῖσθαι (Antirrhetical speech against those who claim that one must not resign). This text survives in two fifteenth-century manuscripts – Milan, Biblioteca Ambrosiana MS gr. Q 76 supr. and Hagion Oros, Iveron MS 381 – that ascribe it to Demetrios bishop of Kyzikos (eleventh century) and Theodore Balsamon (twelfth century) respectively. The editor, Jean Darrouzès, made a convincing case that the text should be attributed to a Niketas who occupied the seat of Ankyra between 1038 and c. 1092 and was thus a slightly younger contemporary of John Doxapatres.30 The relevant passage reads as follows (Antirrhetical speech 252.31–254.5; ed. Darrouzès): Οὗτοι μὲν ὧν ὁ λόγος ἐμνήσθη, ἔθει παλαιῷ κατακολουθοῦντες, τούτῳ τῷ τρόπῳ τῶν πραγμάτων ἑαυτοὺς ὑπεξανάγειν ἐδικαίωσαν. Τί δὲ καὶ οἱ πρὸ τούτων ἔτι, ἵνα τοὺς μετ᾽ αὐτοὺς πολλοὺς παραδράμωμεν; Ὁ σοφὸς τὰ

28 Rabe, Ioannis Sardiani Commentarium, p. xi. 29 V. Grumel, “Titulature de Métropolites Byzantins. I. Les métropolites syncelles,” Revue des Études Byzantines 3 (1945), 92–114. 30 J. Darrouzès, Documents inédits d’ecclésiologie byzantine, Archives de l’Orient chrétien 10 (Paris, 1966), pp. 37–42.

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θεῖα καὶ τὰ ἀνθρώπινα Ἰωάννης ὁ Σάρδεων καὶ μετ’ αὐτὸν ὁ Σεβαστείας Δημήτριος οὐχί, τὸ τῆς ἀρχιερωσύνης βαρὺ φόρτον καὶ αὐτοὶ ἀποθέμενοι καὶ τὸν ἰδιάζοντα βίον ἀνθελόμενοι, καθάπερ ἐν ἀκλύστῳ τινὶ λιμένι, τῇ μακαρίᾳ ἀπραγμοσύνῃ, τὸ λοιπὸν τοῦ βίου διήνυσαν, πάντως που τὸ “Σῴζων σῳζέτω ἕκαστος τὴν ἑαυτοῦ ψυχὴν” ἑαυτοῖς ἐπειπόντες; Those whom this speech has already mentioned followed an ancient custom and deemed it right to retire from active service in this way.31 But what about those who lived even earlier, not to mention many of the next generations? Did John of Sardis, wise both in divine and human matters, and after him Demetrios of Sebasteia, not also put off the heavy burden of high-priesthood and choose a solitary life instead, leading the rest of their lives in blessed inaction, as if in a serene harbor, no doubt continually repeating to themselves “Let each escape for his soul” (Gen. 19.17)? This passage has not been previously analyzed in connection with John of Sardis the writer. Niketas’ praise of John as a man “wise in human and divine affairs” – that is educated, as one may argue, in both Christian theology and secular learning – confirms that he is speaking about a man of letters. In fact, he does so in a manner that is reminiscent of John Doxapatres’ comment cited above; they both seem aware of John of Sardis’ exceptional learning and ecclesiastical stature. Niketas provides us with a valuable biographical detail: in his later years, John had lost the seat of Sardis. He retired (or, as we shall see, was forced to retire) as a monastic. Again, the same question arises: can we be sure which John is referenced? In his list of examples, we may note that Niketas follows a chronological order; his intention is to show how ancient the tradition of resignation is. The phrase “οὗτοι μὲν ὧν ὁ λόγος ἐμνήσθη” refers to the previous section, where Niketas gives the names of three hierarchs in descending chronological sequence: Stephen of Nikomedeia (PmbZ 27315, who retired in the first decade of the eleventh century), Nikephoros of Nikaia (PmbZ 25537, deposed by Photios in 878) and Epiphanios of Cyprus (PmbZ 21700, attested in 870; though, we should note, the name Epiphanios was very common among the bishops of Cyprus32). Nikephoros of Nikaia and Epiphanios of Cyprus bring us to the last decades of the ninth century. If Niketas indeed follows a chronological order as he claims (“τί δὲ καὶ οἱ πρὸ τούτων ἔτι;”), then his John of Sardis must have lived before these bishops, which makes John I the only candidate. It is somewhat inconsistent that while Niketas promises to name “those who lived even earlier” than the first three hierarchs (Stephen, Nikephoros

31 Namely, they chose a solitary way of life for their last years, as explained earlier in the text, with various examples (see discussion below). 32 Another possibility is the Epiphanios of Cyprus attested in 680–81, PmbZ 1531.

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and Epiphanios), the bishop mentioned right after John is Demetrios of Sebasteia (PmbZ 21475), who was active in the mid-tenth century: in 945, he appears as correspondent of Alexander of Nikaia.33 The lines that follow add, at first glance, to the confusion. Niketas writes (Antirrhetical speech 254.5–15): Καὶ οὐχ οὕτως ἀθλίως οὐδ’ ἀπεγνωσμένως οἱ τηλικοῦτοι διέκειντο, ὡς καὶ κανόνων ἐγγράφων καὶ θεσμῶν Ἐκκλησίας ἀγράφων ἀλογῆσαι, εἴπερ αὐτοῖς ἀπηγόρευται τὰ τῆς παραιτήσεως. Εἰ καὶ περὶ αὐτῶν τοῦτο δῶμεν ἀπολαβεῖν τοὺς ἐθέλοντας βλασφημεῖν, ἀλλά γε τοὺς παραδεξαμένους αὐτοὺς τότε θείους ποιμένας καὶ πατριάρχας τί ἂν εἴποιμεν; Ἆρα μὴ καὶ τούτους τῶν ἱερῶν34 κατορχεῖσθαι νομίσομεν καὶ πρόδηλον οὕτω κανόνων αἱρεῖσθαι ἀθέτησιν; Καὶ πῶς ἄν τις τοὺς ἄνωθεν διαδράσῃ σκηπτούς, εἴ τι καὶ ὅλως κἂν ἐννοήσοι τοιοῦτον κατὰ Πολυεύκτου τοῦ θείου καὶ τῶν ὅσοι τότε τῇ συνόδῳ διέλαμπον, οἳ πολλάκις καὶ ὑπὲρ σμικροῦ κομιδῇ παροράματος καὶ πρὸς βασιλεῖς αὐτοὺς οὐκ ἀγεννῶς διαγωνισάμενοι ὤφθησαν. Such great men were not in such a wretched and desperate situation as to neglect the written canons and unwritten laws of the Church – if indeed they were forbidden to resign. Let us grant this to those who are willing to be blasphemous, then what are we to say about the divine shepherds and patriarchs at that time, who accepted their resignation? Should we not consider these too as making fun of sacred matters and openly choosing to reject the rules? And how could anyone escape God’s thunder strokes, if he should even imagine something of that kind against the divine Polyeuktos and also those who then shone in the Synod, who often openly opposed vigorously even a small slip, even against the emperors themselves? Niketas thus argues that the retirement of these bishops must have been entirely canonical by claiming that anyone who reproaches them must also reproach the patriarchs who accepted their resignations. The only patriarch he mentions by name is Polyeuktos (956–70), who approved the resignation of Demetrios of Sebasteia. Does this mean that John too lived during Polyeuktos’ patriarchate, as inferred by Darrouzès (254, n. 1)? This is not the case. First of all, Niketas makes it clear that Demetrios lived “after” John (“μετ᾽ αὐτόν”); they were thus not contemporaries. Secondly, the plural ποιμένας καὶ πατριάρχας indicates that different patriarchs, not only Polyeuktos, were responsible for the canonicity of those resignations. It is unclear why Niketas starts back tracking and mentions the mid-tenthcentury Demetrios, having reached the early ninth century. Perhaps, he did not know any earlier examples of bishops resigning or notable cases that would be immediately familiar to his audience. In any case, Darrouzès’ 33 “Lettres d’Alexandre de Nicée,” Ep. 10 in Épistoliers byzantins du Xe siècle, ed. J. Darrouzès (Paris, 1960), pp. 85–86. 34 Corrected from ἱερέων printed by Darrouzès.

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suggestion that the John of Sardis mentioned by Niketas must have lived in the middle tenth century has no secure footing. The “σοφὸς τὰ θεῖα καὶ τὰ ἀνθρώπινα” John, as well as the reference to his resignation, resembles much more our John I.

John, the Saint Judging from Doxapatres’ commentary, memorials of John I must have been preserved both in school books and as some sort of ecclesiastical tradition. A new piece of evidence for the latter are two Byzantine calendars, appended to lectionaries. These commemorate him as an ascetic saint (ὅσιος) on the seventeenth of December: Moscow, Academiae Theologicae (Фундаментальное собрание библиотеки Московской Духовной Академии) F. 173. I 281 (gr. 23), eleventh century, fol. 166v:35 Τῇ ἡμέρᾳ τοῦ ἁγίου Ἰωάννη ἐπισκόπου Σάρδεων· ζήτει ἀκολουθίαν εἰς ὁσίους On [that same] day [the memory] of saint John, bishop of Sardis; look for the service for ascetic fathers. Venice, Marc. gr. I, 47 = Nanian. gr. 166, dated to 1046, fol. 260r: Τῇ αὐτῇ ἡμέρᾳ τοῦ ὁσίου Ἰωάννου ἀρχιεπισκόπου Σάρδεων τοῦ ὁμολογητοῦ36 On the same day [the memory] of holy John, archbishop of Sardis, the Confessor. As Sergej Spasskij has noted, both lectionaries are of Constantinopolitan origin, as they contain multiple descriptions of the services in Hagia Sophia.37 The Venice manuscript is especially precious, with lavish decoration and a dedication note written in gold that informs us that a certain Basil, monk, presbyter and hegoumenos of the monastery of the Dormition of the Theotokos

35 This part of the collection of the Russian State Library in Moscow is still uncatalogued, though the entire manuscript is available online at http://old.stsl.ru/manuscripts/medium. php?col=5&manuscript=281&pagefile=281-0001, with a handwritten description made by Alexander Kazhdan in 1946 while he was a PhD student. The manuscript is also mentioned in K. Aland, Kurzgefaßte Liste der griechischen Handschriften des Neuen Testaments, 1 (Berlin, 1963), no. 1366. 36 Ed. in G. L. Mingarelli, Graeci codices manu scripti apud Nanios patricios Venetos asservati (Bologna, 1784), p. 370. See also pp. 366–70 for the description of the manuscript. The most recent catalogue entry is in E. Mioni, Codices graeci manuscripti Bibliothecae Divi Marci Venetiarum, 1, pars prior (Rome, 1967), pp. 59–64. A facsimile page can be found in C. Castellani, Catalogus codicum Graecorum qui in Bibliothecam D. Marci Venetiarum inde ab anno MDCCXL ad haec usque tempora inlati sunt (Venice, 1895), between pp. 58 and 59. 37 S. Spasskij, Полный Месяцеслов Востока, 2nd ed. 1, Восточная агиология (Vladimir, 1901), pp. 106 and 110.

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offered this book to his monastery.38 The inscription, written by the same scribe who copied the rest of the lectionary, is dated to 1046. The wording in this same codex, which calls John a “confessor,” helps us identify the commemorated bishop with John I who, as we know from Theodore Stoudites, opposed the iconoclast policy and suffered consequently. Furthermore, the appellation of John as “confessor” and “hosios” rather than “martyr,” confirms Niketas of Ankyra’s testimony that John of Sardis resigned in his old age. The fact that the Moscow manuscript directs the reader to the service for “ὁσίους,” usually ascetics who died a peaceful death, rather than that for “εἰς ἱεράρχας,” namely bishops, further strengthens this view.39 Another possibly related reference may be added here. It is very likely that the archbishop John the Confessor (PmbZ 3231), who is celebrated in the Synodikon of Orthodoxy, in a list of orthodox saints who suffered from the iconoclasts, is our own John I (Synodikon 53.125; ed. Gouillard40): Ἰωάννου, Νικολάου καὶ Γεωργίου τῶν τρισολβίων ὁμολογητῶν καὶ ἀρχιεπισκόπων καὶ πάντων ὁμοφρονησάντων αὐτοῖς ἐπισκόπων, αἰωνία ἡ μνήμη. Eternal be the memory of John, Nicholas, and George, the thriceblessed confessors and archbishops, and all the like-minded bishops. Nevertheless, we have to take this evidence with caution; another John, namely John Kamoulianos, metropolitan of Chalkedon (PmbZ 3205), may also be implied.41 It is tempting, however, to include this mention in our list.

38 Mioni, Codices graeci manuscripti, 59. No Monastery of the Dormition is attested in Constantinople. The inscription may refer either to the monastery of the Dormition in Nikaia, also known as Yakinthos, which was renovated in the middle of the eleventh century (R. Janin, Les églises et les monastères des grands centres byzantins: Bithynie, Hellespont, Latros, Galèsios, Trébizonde, Athènes, Thessalonique [Paris, 1975], 121–24) or, more likely, to the monastery of Elegmoi in Bithynia, the katholikon of which was dedicated to the Dormition of the Theotokos ( Janin, Les églises, 142–48). The latter monastery was administered by the clergy of Hagia Sophia in Constantinople, which would explain why the manuscript has multiple descriptions of the services in Hagia Sophia. 39 The Typikon of the Great Church offers a selection of readings for various occasions and categories of saints, including two different sets of texts for saint bishops (εἰς ἱεράρχας) and ascetic saints (εἰς ὁσίους): J. Mateos, Le Typicon de la Grande Église, 2, Le cycle des fêtes mobiles (Rome, 1963), p. 190. 40 J. Gouillard, “Le Synodikon de l’Orthodoxie, édition et commentaire,” Travaux et mémoires 2 (1967), 1–316. It should be noted that the same text (297.113–14) mistakenly commemorates Theodore Graptos as a confessor and bishop of Sardis (Εὐθυμίου ἐπισκόπου Σάρδης, Μιχαὴλ ἐπισκόπου Συνάδων καὶ Θεοδώρου ἐπισκόπου Σάρδης τοῦ γραπτοῦ καὶ Θεοφάνους ἀδελφοῦ αὐτοῦ τῶν ὁμολογητῶν, αἰωνία ἡ μνήμη). Obviously, as a result of a scribal mistake, Euthymios’ title, which appears in the previous line, was copied twice. 41 Gouillard, “Le Synodikon,” 143–44.

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However this might be, the references of Doxapatres, Niketas, and the two calendars taken together suggest that John I was regarded as a notable figure of the past by the middle of the eleventh century, revered for his secular learning and venerated for his devoted Christianity.

Texts and their Transmission Though none of the facts listed below can clinch the case on their own, the texts of Sardianos and their transmission support the idea that their author lived in the ninth century. Klaus Alpers’ thorough examination of the sources used in John’s commentary on Aphthonios has shown that John was aware of a wide range of classical and early-Byzantine authors, including scholia and grammatical treatises. Especially significant are his citations of the Synagoge and the Etymologicum Genuinum, two dictionaries produced no later than the first half of the ninth century.42 No text written after this period appears to be known to John, despite the popularity of related works that someone like John would probably have had access to while composing his commentary, such as Photios’ Lexikon (second half of the ninth century) or the Suda (late tenth century). If it were John II who wrote the Commentary, the absence of references to Byzantine grammarians who lived after the 850s would be difficult to explain. What about the evidence from the hagiographical works attributed to John of Sardis? A terminus ante quem for their composition is the fact that Symeon Metaphrastes followed both metaphraseis closely as model texts in his versions of the martyria of Nikephoros (BHG 1332) and Barbara (BHG 216) included in his Menologion, composed some time in the last decades of the tenth century. That Symeon would use the texts of John II, his contemporary (and possibly a very young contemporary), would be a singular occurrence in the composition of his Menologion, which, as far as we can tell, only used texts by earlier authors as models (of whom the latest was Niketas David Paphlagon). 42 Alpers, Untersuchungen zu Johannes Sardianos, pp. 138–48. For the Etymologicum Genuinum and its dating, see K. Alpers, “Eine byzantinische Enzyklopädie des 9. Jahrhunderts. Zu Hintergrund, Entstehung und Geschichte des griechischen Etymologikons in Konstantinopel und im italogriechischen Bereich,” in Scritture, libri e testi nelle aree provinciali di Bisanzio. Atti del seminario di Erice (18–25 settembre 1988), ed. G. Cavallo, G. De Gregorio, and M. Maniaci (Spoleto, 1991), pp. 235–69 and R. Reitzenstein, Geschichte der griechischen Etymologika: Ein Beitrag zur Geschichte der Philologie in Alexandria und Byzanz (Leipzig, 1888). For the Synagoge, see I. C. Cunningham, Συναγωγὴ λέξεων χρησίμων: Texts of the Original Version and of MS. B (Berlin, 2003). For a quick reference, see also E. Dickey, Ancient Greek Scholarship: A Guide to Finding, Reading, and Understanding Scholia, Commentaries, Lexica, and Grammatical Treatises, from their Beginnings to the Byzantine Period (Oxford, 2007), pp. 91–92 and 102.

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The metaphrasis of the martyrion of St Nikephoros may offer us another, albeit inconclusive, clue. The text closes with the following prayer for peace in the church (MN 12.6–9): Αἴτησαι δὲ καὶ τὸ τῆς εἰρήνης ταῖς ἐκκλησίαις ἡδύτατον πρᾶγμα, σκάνδαλον ἅπαν ἐξορίζων ταύτης καὶ ἀποσοβῶν, καὶ ἡμῖν τὸ πρὸς ἀλλήλους ἀστασίαστον χάρισαι ἐπισφίγγων ἡμῶν καὶ συντηρῶν τὸ κοινωνικόν. Request also peace, that sweetest thing, for the churches. By chasing and banning away from it every scandal, grant to us freedom from all dissention against each other, tightening and preserving the communion among us. The prayer, though vague in phrasing, may refer to an ongoing conflict or convey a very recent memory of it. Stephanos Efthymiadis conjectured that John is alluding to the Moechian controversy, a scandal caused by the emperor’s divorce and second marriage that lasted through the first decade of the ninth century and polarized the Byzantine clergy;43 but we may also read this as a reference to iconoclasm. Equally inconclusive, though significant, is the manuscript transmission. The earliest manuscripts of the rhetorical (Coislin 387) and hagiographical works (Paris. gr. 1452 and 1458) attributed to John of Sardis can be dated to the last decades of the tenth century – offering us another definite ante quem. This fact alone does not preclude an author who would be contemporary with the earliest copies of his works, such as conceivably John II. Nevertheless, it would be strange if such a prominent figure, an author of rhetorical works and a hagiographer, living between 950 and 1050, was never mentioned, cited, or addressed by his supposed contemporaries, many of whom had a similar profile, such as John Geometres, for example, another famous commentator of the Hermogenian corpus and hagiographer. Starting from the tenth century, we have a much better knowledge of the literati of Constantinople, as well as their networks. How could it be that any references to this learned man have entirely disappeared? *** To sum up: admittedly, any of the observations made above, if taken in isolation, could potentially pertain to persons living any time before the year 1000, and thus to either John of the two. However, their cumulative force points to

43 Efthymiadis, “John of Sardis,” 32–33. For the Moechian controversy, see P. Henry, “The Moechian Controversy and the Constantinopolitan Synod of January ad 809,” The Journal of Theological Studies, New Series 20.2 (1969), 495–522; L. Brubaker and J. F. Haldon, Byzantium in the Iconoclast Era (c. 680–850): A History (Cambridge, 2005), p. 291; and especially Th. Pratsch, Theodoros Studites (759–826) – zwischen Dogma und Pragma: der Abt des Studiosklosters in Konstantinopel im Spannungsfeld von Patriarch, Kaiser und eigenem Anspruch, Berliner Byzantinistische Studien 4 (Frankfurt am Main, 1998), pp. 83–114.

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one and the same person: John I, the author of metaphraseis and rhetorical commentaries, who was active in the early ninth century, and distinguished as a synkellos, bishop, and man of letters, and eventually celebrated as a saint.

John I: Dates, Career, Networks Revisited Further details of John’s biography are less than clear. It is known that in the last decade of the eighth century and the first fifteen years of the ninth, John’s career reached two high points, namely, the offices of synkellos44 and bishop, but little reliable evidence exists pertaining to the details of both appointments. Stephanos Efthymiadis has suggested that John was one of the two synkelloi appointed by the Emperor Constantine to control Tarasios after his fallout with the emperor during the Moechian schism.45 Though this identification is plausible, it also presents several problems. First, as mentioned above, our only reference to John’s title of synkellos derives from a later eleventh-century source, John Doxapatres, who does not specify that John was synkellos in Constantinople.46 Secondly, the meaning of the term synkellos in the relevant passage of the life of Tarasios has also been contested.47 Thirdly, if John indeed was one of the two synkelloi referenced by Ignatios in the life of Tarasios, then his association with Constantine VI places John on the emperor’s side of the Moechian controversy and thus undoubtedly makes him an opponent of Tarasios and Theodore Stoudites who, as we shall see, addressed two rather affectionate letters to John.48

44 On the dignity of synkellos, see the in-depth discussion in V. Leontaritou, Εκκλησιαστικά αξιώματα και υπηρεσίες στην πρώιμη και μέση Βυζαντινή περίοδο (Athens, 1996), pp. 553–605. See also J. Darrouzès, Recherches sur les Offikia de l’église byzantine, Archives de l’Orient chrétien 11 (Paris, 1970), pp. 17–19; N. Oikonomidès, Les listes de préséance byzantines des IXe et Xe siècles: introduction, texte, traduction et commentaire (Paris, 1972), p. 308; and ODB 1993–94. 45 S. Efthymiadis, The Life of the Patriarch Tarasios by Ignatios the Deacon, Birmingham Byzantine and Ottoman Monographs 4 (Aldershot, 1998), p. 47.1–7: Τοῦτο δὲ μνημονεῦσαι χρεών, ὡς πολλοῖς ἐξ ἐκείνου τοῦ πτώματος πειρατηρίοις ὁ βασιλεὺς τὸν μέγαν ὑπέθλιβε φύλακας ἐπιστήσας συγκέλλων ὀνόμασι κεχρημένους, τῷ δὲ τρόπῳ τῆς εὐσεβείας μακρὰν ἀπῳκισμένους· ὧν ἄνευ παραβάλλειν οὐκ ἐξὸν ἦν τινα πρὸς τὸν θεῖόν τε καὶ σοφὸν ἀρχιποίμενα, εἰ μὴ διὰ τῆς ὄψεως τούτων διαβῆναι καὶ ὡς αὐτὸν φθάσαι καὶ τὰ δοκοῦντα προσδιαλέγεσθαι, and the discussion of the passage on the p. 237. See also Efthymiadis, “John of Sardis,” 25–26. 46 See pp. 54-55 above. 47 Leontaritou, Eκκλησιαστικά αξιώματα, p. 586. 48 One possible explanation of the affectionate tone in Theodore Stoudites’ correspondence with John is to suppose that Theodore wrote his two letters after the new outburst of iconoclasm in 815, when the Moechian scandal was well in the past, and when John’s confession of image-worship would have reconciled him with the Stoudite leader. We know that after 815 Theodore even made peace with the hegoumenos Ioseph (cf. Ep. 83), the abbot who performed the second marriage of Constantine VI and thus was the leader of the opposing party in the Moechian conflict.

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Regarding the time of John’s tenure as bishop, Jules Pargoire and Germanos of Sardis advanced two alternative hypotheses. Pargoire argued that Euthymios resigned from the see of Sardis immediately after his conflict with the Emperor Nikephoros (803/4); thus John must have been ordained the same year or soon after.49 Germanos of Sardis, and more recently Klaus Alpers, insisted that Euthymios must have retained his bishopric during his exile and until his death in 824; consequently, John could not have become bishop of Sardis before that.50 According to Pargoire, it is clear from a variety of sources that Euthymios never returned to Sardis as bishop. Theodore Stoudites, writing to Euthymios around 815, indicates that his correspondent is no longer holding the episcopal throne (Ep. 112.10–14; ed. Fatouros). In another letter, addressed to Stoudites’ disciple Naukratios, also discussed by Pargoire (p. 160), Theodore clearly indicates that two bishops of Sardis existed simultaneously, and Theodore was well aware of the fact.51 A further essential point made by Pargoire is that even if John had replaced Euthymios only after his death in December 824,52 it is still questionable that Michael II (820–29) and patriarch Anthony I (821–36), both known for their reinforcement of iconoclasm, would have approved John as Euthymios’ successor, someone whom Theodore Stoudites hails as a supporter of orthodoxy, who was himself prosecuted by the iconoclasts, and who was exiled. Pargoire’s argument has strong grounds and has been endorsed by several scholars.53 To add one further piece of evidence in support of the early dating of John’s appointment as the bishop of Sardis, let us observe that if we were to accept that John’s appointment took place only in early 825, then it would be implausible that his deposition occurred so soon after his ordination. Theodore Stoudites died in November 826 and wrote to John addressing him as an exiled bishop at least twice; this allows only a year and a half for John’s ordination, deposition, and exile. Furthermore, while Alpers further suggests that John returned to Sardis and remained there until 858, this date comes from catalogues of Sardian bishops that are now outdated,54 since, as far as our time period is concerned, these catalogues do not take into account

49 Pargoire, “Saint Euthyme,” p. 159. 50 Germanos, “Ἱστορικὴ μελέτη,” 356–57 and Alpers, Untersuchungen zu Johannes Sardianos, pp. 16–42. 51 Theodori Studitae epistulae, ed. G. Fatouros, 2 (Berlin, 1991), Ep. 415.16–18. 52 The date itself is highly debatable, see PmbZ 1838; Pargoire, “Saint Euthyme,” 157–61; J. Gouillard, “La vie d’Euthyme de Sardes († 831), une œuvre du patriarche Méthode,” Travaux et Mémoires 10 (1987), 1–101, and Alpers, Untersuchungen zu Johannes Sardianos, pp. 20–39. 53 Gouillard, “La Vie d’Euthyme,” p. 5, note 34. Efthymiadis, “John of Sardis,” Foss, “Byzantine and Turkish Sardis,” and J. Signes Codoñer, “Leer a los clásicos en el Renacimiento bizantino,” (as above, n. 4, review of Alpers, Untersuchungen zu Johannes Sardianos). 54 See note 5 above.

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the seal of Anthony I, bishop of Sardis (PmbZ 563), whose tenure must be placed soon after 843 and before Peter I in 858 (PmbZ 563).55 Two letters of Theodore Stoudites inform us about further developments in John’s life. As can be surmised from the passage below, John openly defended images at the iconoclastic council of 815 (Ep. 157.12–15):56 Μακάριος εἶ, διὰ Κύριον ἐμπαιχθεὶς καὶ κονδυλισθεὶς ὑπὸ τῶν ἀσεβῶν ἔμπροσθεν τοῦ καϊαφαϊκοῦ συνεδρίου. Μετὰ Χριστοῦ ἐθεατρίσθης σὺν τοῖς ὁμάθλοις, σὺν Χριστῷ κατεδικάσθης· καὶ ἐπὶ τὸν σταυρὸν μὲν οὐκ ἀνῆλθες, ὅτι μὴ καιρός, σταυροφορῶν δὲ ἐξῆλθες, προπηλακισθεὶς καὶ διασυρθεὶς παρὰ τῶν παρανόμων. Blessed you are! Impious men flogged and beat you up for Christ at the Council of Caiaphas; together with Christ, you and your co-fighters were made a spectacle, together with Christ, you were condemned; and though you have not yet ascended on the Cross – for it is not the right moment – you marched away bearing the Cross, when the violators of the law dragged you in the mire and derided you. In contemporary and later Byzantine texts, the phrase καϊαφαϊκὸν συνέδριον is a usual metaphor for the (earlier) iconoclastic council of Hieria in 754.57 In the passage above, Theodore Stoudites uses the same phrase to denote the council 55 G. Zacos and A. Veglery, Byzantine Lead Seals, 1 (Basel, 1972), no. 1327 = Nesbitt et al., Catalogue of Byzantine Seals, 3, no. 32.4, also the Dumbarton Oaks Online Catalogue of Byzantine Seals at http://www.doaks.org/resources/seals/byzantine-seals/BZS.1955.1.4802. 56 The letter itself can be dated soon after the council of 815. Theodore claims that he intends to contact hierarchs in exile (Ep. 117.18–23 to Naukratios: Ἐγὼ γοῦν ὁ ἀχρεῖος, εἰ καιρὸν λάβοιμι καὶ πιστὸν γραμματηφόρον, εἴτε οἴκοθεν εἴτε ἔξωθεν προθυμοῦμαι πᾶσι τοῖς ἐξορίστοις πατράσιν ἐπιστεῖλαι (πολὺ γὰρ ὀνίνησι καὶ τὸν γράφοντα καὶ τὸν δεχόμενον τοῦτο, ἐπεὶ καὶ τοῖς ἁγίοις σύνηθες καὶ τῇ ἐκκλησίᾳ χρήσιμον), ἀλλὰ γὰρ καὶ μέχρι τερμάτων τῆς οἰκουμένης βοῆσαι ὁ κύων καὶ ὁ ψύλλος παρασκευάζομαι. = “I, the useless one [cf. Lk 17:10], wish to send letters to all the fathers in exile, should I find the time and a reliable carrier, either from our household or outside of it (for letter-writing greatly benefits both writer and addressee; after all this practice was common also among the saints and is useful for the church). Hence I, who am a dog and a flea, am prepared to cry out to the ends of the world.” Cf. also Ep. 108.7 and 115.3–10). Indeed, during the winter of 815–16, Theodore wrote to several bishops, among whom were his brother Joseph of Thessalonike (Εp. 72), Ignatios of Miletos (Εp. 75), Euthymios of Sardis (Εp. 74), Peter of Nikaia (Εp. 82), and other members of the clergy arrested for their iconophile beliefs. Ep. 157 to John belongs to the same context. A detailed and very persuasive discussion of the letters written in this period, accompanied by their chronological attribution, is in A. P. Dobroklonskij, Преподобный Федор, исповедник и игумен Студийский, 2.1 (Odessa, 1914), pp. 151–53 and 187–270. In the same letter to John, Theodore also admits that he has not yet learned the place of John’s exile (οὔπω μοι μέχρι τοῦ δεῦρο ἤκουσται, ποῦ ποτ’ ἂν εἴη περιωρισμένη ἡ πατρική σου ἁγιωσύνη, “so far I have not heard yet where your fatherly holiness was deported” - Ep. 157.2–3), which, according to Aleksandr Dobroklonskij, indicates (correctly) that the letter was written soon after John’s arrest: Dobroklonskij, Преподобный Федор, p. 271. 57 Cf. life of Tarasios 14.27 (ed. Efthymiadis; cf. also the editor’s commentary on p. 218); J. M. Featherstone, Nicephori Patriarchae Constantinopolitani refutatio et eversio definitionis synodalis anni 815 (Turnhout, 1997), 6 (4.4) and 12 (6.56–57); and Gouillard, “Le Synodikon de l’Orthodoxie,” 293.16.

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of 815, which reintroduced iconoclasm at the request of the Leo V, the Armenian. Leo chastised and exiled those bishops who spoke against the official policy. As we can infer from Theodore’s words, John I was one of them. Theodore carefully constructs the image of John as a confessor and martyr of orthodoxy and exhorts him to continue adamantly in his profession of faith (Ep. 157.21–23). The motif is present elsewhere in Theodore’s letters to his iconophile allies.58 Theodore wrote to John again some time between 821 and 826,59 when the latter, still in exile (Ep. 451.9), was seriously ill. The Stoudite leader claims that he wanted to pay John a visit, but circumstances (namely his own incarceration) prevented him from doing so (451.2–6; ed. Fatouros): Ἀπὸ χρόνου ἠκούσαμεν νοσηλεύεσθαί σου τὴν πατρικὴν ἁγιωσύνην, ἄρτι δὲ μικροῦ δεῖν καὶ ἀπογνωσθεῖσαν, καὶ τοσοῦτον ἐθροήθημεν οἱ ταπεινοὶ καὶ συνεκινήθημεν λυπηρῶς, ὡς ὁρμῆσαι καταλαβεῖν ἡμᾶς ἐν τοῖς αὐτόθι καὶ ὄψει ὑπολαβεῖν τὴν ἀπευκτὴν ἀκοήν· οὐκ ἐξεγένετο δὲ διὰ τὰ παριστάμενα τοῦτο. We heard that your fatherly holiness was ill for some time now and that recently you almost lost every hope; our humbleness was so greatly stirred and painfully aroused that I rushed to catch you while you were still in this world, and to confirm with my own eyes the detestable rumor; but this did not happen due to the present circumstances. It is tempting to suggest that John’s place of residence was not far from Constantinople, either somewhere in Asia Minor or the islands in the Sea of Marmara, so that Theodore, who during that period was himself in the vicinity of the capital, could consider visiting unless his words, “ὡς ὁρμῆσαι καταλαβεῖν,” are a mere figure of speech. The date and circumstances of John’s death cannot be identified with certainty. In a letter to his disciple Naukratios, Theodore reports a rumor about the death of the bishop of Sardis. Let us cite the relevant passage (Ep. 415.16–18): Ἔπειτα προσεγένετο εἰς ἐμπόδιον καὶ ἀκοὴ τοιαύτη, ὅτι τοι αὐτὸς ἐπήρθης τῆς φυλακῆς· ἀλλ’ ὅτι καὶ δι’ ἀνοσιουργίαν τινὰ ὁ Σάρδης (ποῖος οὐχ ὡρισμένως) ἐκαρατομήθη. Then there arose another obstacle: a rumor of the sort that you were actually released from prison, but also that, due to a certain villainy, the bishop of Sardis (which one is unclear) was beheaded.

58 Cf. P. Hatlie, “The Politics of Salvation: Theodore of Stoudios on Martyrdom (‘Martyrion’) and Speaking out (‘Parrhesia’),” Dumbarton Oaks Papers 50 (1996), 263–87. Efthymiadis concludes from Theodore’s exhortations that Theodore must have had some reservations about John’s iconophile beliefs. This may be well the case, though such exhortations are not infrequent in Theodore’s letters to other iconophile leaders. 59 In the manuscripts, this letter (no. 451) appears among those written during the reign of Emperor Michael II (821–29): see Dobroklonskij, Преподобный Федор, pp. 59–61.

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This letter is dated to the second half of the year 819.60 Hence, it is almost certain that the alleged beheading was indeed a rumour. For, as mentioned above, several years later Theodore wrote his second letter to John I (Ep. 451, dated between 821 and 826), and Euthymios, the other (and by this time deposed) bishop of Sardis, died in 824. If we recall the testimony of Niketas of Ankyra and the liturgical commemoration of John as a holy ascetic, dying a peaceful death (ὅσιος), and as confessor (ὁμολογητής), we may suppose that John left his bishopric, lived a monastic life, and died of natural causes. If so, the only question that remains is whether John’s retirement was voluntary and followed years after the prosecution, or whether John was forced to resign when Leo V sent him into exile. We know that Niketas uses the word resignation for what was actually a deposition at least in one other case, that of Nikephoros of Nikaia, whom Photios forced to abdicate in 878 (Antirrhetical speech 251.20–252.1; ed. Darrouzès). We can assume that the same is the case with John. One last piece of evidence may be added. In the life of St Anthony the Younger, written shortly after 865, we find three references to iconophile bishops who resigned from their office and led a solitary life, as they were unwilling to participate in the imperial iconoclastic policy.61 All were bishops exiled by iconoclast emperors, and so we may once again observe that “resignation” may mean “deposition.” It is also noteworthy that one of the three hierarchs mentioned in the life of St Anthony is a John, hegoumenos of Kichonion (Κιχώνιον, a monastery on the Asian side of the Bosporos;62 PmbZ 3235), but previously a bishop who resigned in the years of the second iconoclasm. His see is unknown. But, among other possibilities, he could be possibly identified as John I as well.

Social Identity, Literary Production Though nothing is known about John’s lineage and financial circumstances, the tentative reconstruction of his career and social networks presented above places him high in the state and ecclesiastical hierarchy. It may be that John

60 Theodori Studitae epistulae, ed. Fatouros, 1, p. 396 and Dobroklonskij, Преподобный Федор, pp. 421–22. 61 The life is edited in two parts. The first is by A. Papadopoulos-Kerameus and V. Latyshev, “Βίος καὶ πολιτεία τοῦ ἁγίου Ἀντωνίου τοῦ Νέου,” Pravoslavnyj Palestinskij Sbornik 19.3 (1907), 186–210. See section 41 for Paul of Plousiada (PmbZ 5853) and section 28 for James of Anchialos (PmbZ 2630). The second part is in F. Halkin, “Saint Antoine le Jeune et Petronas le vainqueur des Arabes en 863,” Analecta Bollandiana 62 (1944), 187–223. See 222.22–23 for John of Kichonion (PmbZ 3235). Regarding James and Paul, see also S. Efthymiadis, “Notes on the Correspondence of Theodore the Studite,” Revue des Études Byzantines 53 (1995), 146–49. 62 Janin, Les églises et les monastères, p. 22.

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never occupied the front lines of history; no source attests him as a leading participant in political struggles or religious controversies and he appears to have remained unnoticed by middle-Byzantine historiography. Nevertheless, John is an emblematic representative of the Constantinopolitan urban elite. The latter was a mercurial potpourri of civilians, military officials, high-ranking clergy, grandees, homines novi, and members of the imperial family, all united by living in the City, usually rendering services to the emperor, and having access to the distribution of state income. This was the environment that nurtured John’s career and literary activity and this social group was (we may assume) the primary audience of his texts. As recent studies have shown, this group cannot be reduced to specific labels such as “monastic,” “secular,” “aristocratic,” “civilian,” or “military.”63 Rather, its character as “elite” resided in its association with Constantinople, classical education, and, for many, post-iconoclast orthodoxy. Iconoclasm is fundamental for John and two essential aspects of it should be highlighted here. First, for the urban elite, which identified primarily (though not exclusively) with the orthodox side, the years of the iconophile intermission (787–815) and second iconoclasm (815–43) served as a period of further consolidation. The letters of Theodore Stoudites, which include virtually any significant iconophile person of that time in the circle of his correspondents, is a remarkable testimony to how this consolidation was based on a new, explicitly orthodox, Christian identity, an identity that set its face against both external enemies, the Arabs, and internal, the iconoclasts. Secondly, the cult of the saints was a pivotal component of this version of orthodoxy. It is still a matter of debate whether the iconoclasts ever opposed the veneration of saints or their relics.64 But it is clear that such an assertion became central to the anti-iconoclastic narrative constructed by the iconophiles very early on. Defending orthodoxy meant that the discourse of martyrdom could be brought to bear on the here and now, from the past to everyday reality. As we have seen above, in his letters to John – but the same can be said about other defenders of images – Theodore Stoudites liberally applies this discourse to the description of events of his time, thus virtually erasing the boundaries between ancient and contemporary martyrs.65 Claudia Rapp argued that the ninth-century blossoming of rewriting in hagiography reflected a “melancholy insight that the age of the saints has

63 J.-C. Cheynet, “The Byzantine Aristocracy (8th–13th centuries),” in The Byzantine Aristocracy and its Military Function (Aldershot – Burlington, 2006) and Brubaker and Haldon, Byzantium in the Iconoclast Era, pp. 573–624. 64 D. Krausmüller, “Contextualizing Constantine V’s Radical Religious Policies: The Debate about the Intercession of the Saints and the ‘Sleep of the Soul’ in the Chalcedonian and Nestorian Churches,” Byzantine and Modern Greek Studies 39 (2015), 25–49. 65 On the call for martyrdom in Theodore’s correspondence, see specifically Hatlie, “The Politics of Salvation.”

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irrevocably come to a close.”66 However, the rise of rewriting during the iconoclastic period seems to stem from the exact opposite sentiment. It is the vivid sensation of reliving the martyrdom of the ancient narratives and their re-performance – with the literary aspect being of foremost importance – that made the veneration of saints a pivotal component of post-iconoclast orthodox identity, appropriated by major figures in the urban elite, even if the image-fighters may never have attacked the cult of saints per se. John’s combination of a high social position and occupation with hagiography in an elevated style was not something new. Throughout Byzantine history, classical education was often a basic constituent of aristocratic identity, a lingua franca of its own kind, which united individuals with otherwise diverse background, professions, and ideologies. The only palpable difference was that now, after the first iconoclasm, the use of high-register language in hagiography became a fashion67 – perhaps a natural result of the concentrated hagiographical production in Constantinople, in striking contrast to earlier periods.68 We should also pay attention to a less conspicuous, but eloquent detail. Although it is not documented, it is almost certain that at a certain stage of his career John was a professional schoolteacher, as his rhetorical commentaries on Aphthonios and Hermogenes, typical school textbooks, suggest. In fact, he was not the only representative of his generation who was engaged in writing both hagiographical and grammatical texts. To cite only a few examples: Michael Synkellos (760–846) composed a treatise On Syntax but also numerous encomia of martyrs and, possibly, the life of the Forty-Two Martyrs of Amorion69 whilst patriarch Tarasios is likely the author of a rhetorical treatise titled Περὶ τῶν τοῦ λόγου σχημάτων (On Figures).70 According to Ignatios, his disciple and biographer, Tarasios was Ignatios’instructor in poetry and also delivered many encomia on ancient martyrs, which Ignatios copied into a book (life of the Patriarch Tarasios 69.6–10). Finally, Ignatios himself is perhaps the most celebrated of the early ninth-century highbrow hagiographers, but was also a poet and teacher

66 C. Rapp, “Byzantine Hagiographers,” p. 31. 67 The literature on this matter is abundant. For a most recent overview, see Efthymiadis and Kalogeras, “Audience, Language and Patronage” and B. Flusin, “Entre innovation et tradition,” pp. 13–34. 68 According to Kazhdan’s calculations, only four vitae from the fourth to the sixth centuries may be described as predominantly Constantinopolitan: A. P. Kazhdan et al., A History of Byzantine Literature, 1 (Athens, 1999), p. 28. Cf. also Efthymiadis and Kalogeras, “Audience, Language and Patronage,” p. 263. 69 See M. Cunningham, The Life of Michael the Synkellos, Belfast Byzantine Texts and Translations 1 (Belfast, 1991), pp. 37–38; D. Donnet, Le traité de la construction de la phrase de Michel le Syncelle de Jérusalem, Études de philologie, d’archéologie et d’histoire ancienne 22 (Brussels, 1982); and PmbZ 5059. 70 Efthymiadis, The Life of the Patriarch Tarasios, 32, and P. Nikitin, О некоторых греческих текстах житий святых (St Petersburg, 1895), pp. 50–51. The text of the treatise is edited in L. Spengel, Rhetores graeci, 3 (Leipzig, 1856), pp. 110–60.

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of rhetoric.71 Our list could be extended, although the poor survival of both hagiography and schoolbooks of the early ninth century imposes limits. Michael, Tarasios, Ignatios and John of Sardis did not only belong to the high-ranking clergy; they also shared aristocratic origins, residency in Constantinople, and links with the imperial palace. It was perhaps this group of διδάσκαλοι involved in writing encomia of the martyrs that Theodore Stoudites referred in the notorious letter to his disciple Thalelaios, who was asking a question about the credibility of the anonymous martyrion of St Pankratios (Ep. 386.61–64): Περὶ τῆς ἱστορίας τοῦ Ἁγίου Παγκρατίου, ὅτι οὐ δηλοῖ πρὸς τίνος συνεγράφη, τί τοῦτο; σχεδὸν πάντα τὰ μαρτυρογράφια ἀνεπίγραφά εἰσιν· ἀλλ’ ὅμως βέβαιά εἰσιν, κἀκεῖθεν οἱ διδάσκαλοι ἀφορμίζονται ποιεῖν τὰ τῶν μαρτυρησάντων ἐγκώμια.72 Regarding the story of St Pankratios, why is it that there is no indication of who its author is? – Almost all martyrdom texts are anonymous, but nevertheless authentic; based on them, the teachers are inspired to compose the encomia of the martyrs. These teachers and hierarchs represent a small but powerful and close-knit group of what we may call schoolteacher–hagiographers. To my knowledge, this is the first generation in Byzantine history when such an association of urban aristocracy, school environment, and hagiographical production can be attested. John of Sardis’ metaphraseis are the intellectual offspring of this alliance.73

Appendix Bishops of Sardis in the Ninth and Tenth Centuries74 Euthymios (before 787–803, d. 824) (PmbZ 1838) John I (803–15, d. after 821) (PmbZ 3200; see also PmbZ 3231)

71 On Ignatios, see S. Efthymiadis, “The Biography of Ignatios the Deacon: A Reassessment of the Evidence,” Byzantine and Modern Greek Studies 26 (2002), 276–83. In his talk given at the 2020 BSANA conference, Byron MacDougall presented strong evidence that Ignatios the Deacon was also the author of an anonymous Byzantine commentary on Porphyry’s Isagoge (see Byron MacDougall, “Prereqs for Aphthonius: An Anonymous Byzantine Commentary on Porphyry’s Isagoge,” at http://www.bsana.net/conference/BSC-2020_Abstracts.pdf). 72 Cf. Efthymiadis, “John of Sardis,” 23. 73 I extend my warmest thanks to Stratis Papaioannou and David Konstan for reading drafts and making valuable comments; and to the Mary Jaharis Center for Byzantine Art and Culture, whose grant supported my research at the IRHT in 2018 that contributed to the completion of this article. 74 This list revises and updates the catalogue printed in Foss, Byzantine and Turkish Sardis, pp. 135–36. Names that either do not feature in Foss or appear with different dates are italicized.

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Anthony I (after 843–58) (PmbZ 563) Peter I (858–69) (PmbZ 6088) Peter II (877) (PmbZ 6092) Theophylaktos (879/80) (PmbZ 28181) Peter III (879/80–912) (PmbZ 26434, 26444, 26460); likely two separate persons Anthony II (c. 920) (PmbZ 20492) Leo I (c. 920–c. 944/5) (PmbZ 24421) Stylianos (tenth century) (PmbZ 27417) Leo II (997) (PmbZ 24542) John II (c. last quarter of the tenth / first three decades of the eleventh century) (PmbZ 22999)

Laura Franco

Observations on the Methods of Metaphrastic Rewriting: The Case of the Passio of St James (BHG 773)

Michael Psellos’ Encomium on Symeon the Metaphrast is a fundamental source concerning the method the latter followed in the composition of his Menologium. Psellos suggests that this reworking was a product of teamwork1 and states that Symeon changed the style rather than the content of earlier hagiographical material.2 In order to identify the characteristic elements of Symeon’s prose, we need to undertake a detailed textual analysis, comparing the re-worked texts with the sources we have at our disposal, notwithstanding the fact that we can never be certain which pre-Metaphrastic sources the Metaphrast or his team of scribes actually used, including alternative traditions not yet discovered or, indeed, lost for ever.3 A number of methodological problems arise as the Metaphrastic corpus is remarkably large and there are still only a few modern reliable editions of these hagiographical works.4 This stated, what do we compare and how do we compare it? The operation is, in itself, arbitrary because whilst some parallel passages mostly retain the same length and content and hence are comparable in terms of structure, syntax, and grammar, in other cases the re-elaboration is so drastic that a close comparison seems impossible, as first pointed out by 1 Michaelis Pselli Orationes Hagiographicae, ed. E. A. Fisher (Leipzig, 1994), pp. 267–88, especially 285.334–41. On this passage, whose interpretation is complex, see C. Høgel, “The Redaction of Symeon Metaphrastes: Literary Aspects of the Metaphrastic Martyria,” in Metaphrasis. Redactions and Audiences in Middle Byzantine Hagiography, ed. C. Høgel (Oslo, 1996), pp. 7–21, especially pp. 9–11 and N. Wilson, “Symeon Metaphrastes at work,” Nea Rhome 2 (2014), 105–07. See also most recently A. Berger, “Serienproduktion oder Autorenwettbewerb? Einige Bemerkungen zu byzantinischen hagiographischen Texten des zehnten Jahrhunderts,” in Byzantine Hagiography. Texts, Themes and Projects, Byzantios 13, eds, A. Rigo, M. Trizio and E. Despotakis (Turnhout, 2018), pp. 299–311, at 299–303. 2 Michaelis Pselli Orationes Hagiographicae, pp. 282–83.280–95. 3 C. Høgel, “Symeon Metaphrastes and the Metaphrastic Movement” in ARCBH, 2, pp. 181–96, at 182. 4 A list of the editions is given in C. Høgel, Symeon Metaphrastes. Rewriting and Canonization (Copenhagen, 2002), pp. 172–204. Metaphrasis in Byzantine Literature, ed. by Anne P. Alwis, Martin Hinterberger and Elisabeth Schiffer, Studies in Byzantine History and Civilization, 17 (Turnhout, 2021), pp. 71–86 FHG10.1484/M.SBHC-EB.5.123038

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Zilliacus5 and later confirmed by other scholars.6 Nevertheless, bearing in mind the uncertainty, if not the impossibility, of determining exactly which version was employed by Symeon, and taking into account the fact that he could have utilised more than one text,7 a systematic comparison with the earlier texts is still the only firm grounds for any attempt to examine Symeon’s methods. Symeon’s style cannot be labelled as high, as Ševčenko showed in his seminal article, but rather medium or medium-high.8 As a general tendency, he inserts rhetorical devices into the earlier texts, but in some cases, he also simplifies his sources if he believes they are convoluted.9 It is therefore legitimate to assume that Metaphrastic prose comprises a coexistence of various linguistic registers.10 Typical Metaphrastic “features” can be summarized as follows: generally Symeon amplifies a number of passages of the old text and, at the same time, shortens or omits others. This condensing of sections of the early texts may function to avoid unnecessary repetition or to prevent the re-worked texts from expanding to an unreasonable length.11 The Metaphrast is also inclined to limit the use of dialogues, direct speeches and the first person, and there is a tendency to insert “transitional” or “connective” sentences as well as explanatory sentences in order to facilitate the reader to better follow the account.12 Moreover, he tends to avoid Latin borrowings, to extensively use



5 H. Zilliacus, “Zur stilistischen Umarbeitungstechnik des Symeon Metaphrastes,” Byzantinische Zeitschrift 38 (1938), 333–50, at 338. 6 For an overview of the relevant literature, with bibliography, see C. Høgel, “Symeon Metaphrastes and the Metaphrastic Movement,” pp. 181–96. 7 See M. Hinterberger, “Between Simplification and Elaboration: Byzantine Metaphraseis Compared,” in Textual Transmission in Byzantium: Between Textual Criticism and Quellenforschung, Lectio 2, eds, J. Signes Codoñer and I. Pérez Martín (Turnhout, 2014), pp. 33–60, especially p. 47. On the possibility that the Metaphrastic technique of reworking earlier texts may have involved the “contamination” of more than one source, see also Høgel, “The Redaction of Symeon Metaphrastes,” especially p. 11, and S. Efthymiadis, “John of Sardis and the Metaphrasis of the Passio of St Nikephoros the Martyr (BHG 1334),” Rivista di Studi bizantini e neoellenici 28 (1991), 24–33, especially 32 (with reference to the Metaphrastic Passio of St Nikephoros the Martyr). 8 I. Ševčenko, “Levels of style in Byzantine Prose,” in XVI. Internationaler Byzantinistenkongress. Akten I/1 (= Jahrbuch der Österreichischen Byzantinistik 31 [1981]), 289–312. 9 C. Høgel, Symeon Metaphrastes. Rewriting and Canonization, p. 140. See also M. Hinterberger, “Between Simplification and Elaboration,” p. 47, where it is observed that Symeon has simplified several hapax legomena or rare forms present in the earlier version of the life of Stephen the Younger. 10 For a survey on metaphrasis as a genre related to hagiographical practice, see D. Resh, “Toward a Byzantine Definition of Metaphrasis,” Greek Roman and Byzantine Studies 55 (2005), 754–857. On the antecedents of Symeon, see B. Flusin, “Vers la Métaphrase,” in Rémanier, métaphraser: Fonctions et techniques de la réécriture dans le monde byzantin, eds, S. Marjanović-Dušanić and B. Flusin (Belgrade, 2011), pp. 85–99. 11 Cf. P. Petitmengin, ed., Pélagie la pénitente: métamorphoses d’une légende, 2 (Paris, 1984), p. 25. 12 Or the audience.

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participles and compound verbs, and to evade parataxis. It must be stressed that this list is intended to be only orientative as these guiding principles are not systematically and consistently applied throughout the Menologium and, in certain cases, not even in the same text. All these stylistic elements are documented in three unpublished Metaphrastic texts, namely the Passio of St James the Persian (BHG 773), the Passio of St Plato (BHG 1551–52) and the Vita of St Hilarion (BHG 755).13 These texts were analysed in my doctoral thesis, which also included their preliminary editions based on a limited number of early manuscripts, creating the foundation for a proper critical edition. All three texts show a number of similarities in the technique of Metaphrastic rewriting. I shall focus on a few considerations, concentrating on the analysis of selected passages mostly taken from the Passio of James and referring only sporadically to the other two texts.14 I examine the different techniques employed by Symeon, namely the omission of some sections of his sources, the operation of merging different elements that are present in the earlier texts, and the amplification or condensing of earlier material.

Historical Information According to the Metaphrastic version of the Passio of St James the Persian, also known as “Intercisus” after the method of his martyrdom, the saint lived during the reigns of Arcadius (395–408), brother of Honorius, and the Sassanid king, Yasgerd I (399–420),15 who was succeeded by his son Vahram V (420–38).16 This information is in agreement with the four pre-Metaphrastic Greek recensiones (α, β, γ and δ) edited by Paul Devos (δ only partially).17 More precisely, α, β, and γ note Honorius and Theodosius as the emperors in the West, whilst δ mentions both Arcadius and Honorius.18 The earlier

13 See L. Franco, A Study of the Metaphrastic Process: The Case of the Unpublished Passio of St James the Persian (BHG 773), Passio of St Plato (BHG 1551–52), and Vita of St Hilarion by Symeon Metaphrastes (BHG 755) (unpublished PhD London. 2010). A preliminary edition of the Passio of St Plato is also part of the doctoral thesis of Elisabeth Schiffer: see E. Schiffer, Untersuchungen zum Sprachniveau metaphrastischer Texte und ihrer Vorlagen (unpublished PhD Vienna, 1999) at 47–61. 14 See L. Franco, A Study of the Metaphrastic Process, pp. 84–182. For the Metaphrastic texts, I refer to the paragraphs and line numbers of my edition. 15 J. Labourt, Le Christianisme dans l’Empire Perse sous la dynastie Sassanide (Paris, 1904), pp. 104–18. 16 M. C. Celletti, “Giacomo l’interciso,” in Bibliotheca Sanctorum, 6 (Rome, 1965), cols 357–62. 17 P. Devos, “Le dossier hagiographique de S. Jacques l’intercis. La passion grecque inédite. Recensions α et β,” Analecta Bollandiana 71 (1953), 157–210. Idem, “Le dossier hagiographique de S. Jacques l’intercis. La passion grecque inédite. Recensions γ et δ,” Analecta Bollandiana 72 (1954), 213–56. The only edited chapters of recensio δ are 1–10, 43, 44, 45. 18 In some cases, calling the saint “Anastasius” instead of “James.”

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Syriac version19 states that James died in the year 732 (without specifying the era), under “Alexander, that is the second year of Vahram.”20 The identity of “Alexander” remains uncertain, as an identification with Emperor Alexander (912–13) seems impossible. Moreover, scholars have questioned the very existence of St James, due to the lack of any reference to his martyrdom by contemporary authors who mention the persecutions of the Christians in Persia, including Socrates, Sozomen, Augustine of Hippo and Theodoret.21 The existence of another Persian saint by the same name, a notary who suffered an identical martyrdom (ἐκμελισθείς) under the same King Vahram only a year later,22 adds to the confusion.23 Both the pre-Metaphrastic recensions and the metaphrastic passio do not mention the year of the saint’s martyrdom, though the former (α, β, γ and δ) agree that his execution took place in the reign of Vahram on 27 November (α, β, and γ specify that it was a Friday). This day was accepted by the Metaphrast, and remains the feast day of St James in the Orthodox Church to the present day. The metaphrastic text, in agreement with the earlier sources, also states that James spent his youth in the court of Yasgerd I, father of Vahram V. It is known that Yasgerd originally followed a peaceful policy towards his Christian subjects, as he wanted to maintain good relations with the Roman Empire. At a certain stage, however, provoked by an over-zealous bishop named Abdias, who allowed the Christians to destroy the Zoroastrian temples, Yasgerd reacted forcefully, taking strict measures against the Christian communities.24 The persecution became more severe under the reign of Vahram, his son and successor.25

The Prologue Among the four pre-Metaphrastic recensiones edited by Devos (α, β, γ and δ),26 only γ and δ are preceded by a prologue, whereas α and β start in medias res, describing James’ place of birth and his family. The Metaphrastic prologue (ll. 1–10) is rather concise; it does not show remarkable efforts in terms of 19 A Latin translation of the Syriac version is included in P. Devos, “Recensions α et β,” 168–78. 20 Ibid., 168. 21 M. C. Celletti, “Giacomo l’interciso,” col. 359. 22 Labourt, Le Christianisme, pp. 113–16 and J. Sauget, “Giacomo, notaio, santo, martire in Persia,” in Bibliotheca Sanctorum, 6 (Rome, 1965), cols 418–19. 23 The possibility of the two being actually one and the same person cannot be ruled out. 24 Labourt, Le Christianisme, pp. 104–08. 25 Ibid., pp. 109–18. 26 The edition of version δ includes only the first ten paragraphs and the epilogue of the text on the basis of the single extant manuscript in which it is preserved (Vatican City, Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana, MS Vat. gr. 1190). Since this redaction strongly depends on version β and there are no significant differences between the two texts, this version was edited only partially by P. Devos, “Recensions γ et δ,” 229.

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rhetorical devices and it also contains pieces of information that can be found in the first paragraphs and epilogues of all the pre-Metaphrastic sources. However, not all data are present in all four texts (for example, a reference to Emperor Arcadius is found only in δ). More specifically, in α, β, and γ, Yasgerd’s name is mentioned at the beginning of the text (par. 1), while that of his son, Vahram, appears only at the end (par. 44), when the date of the martyrdom is given. Thus, the reader has to infer that the son succeeded his father and that James was executed under Yasgerd’s successor. The Metaphrastic prologue reports the essential pieces of information needed to follow the narrative, including the names of the Roman emperors Arcadius, Theodosius, and Honorius, followed by those of the Persian king Yasgerd and his son Vahram (ll. 3–4). It clearly explains (ll. 18–20) that Vahram succeeded his father (Διὸ δὴ καὶ τῆς Περσικῆς ἀρχῆς εἰς Οὐαραράτ, τὸν Ἰσδιγέρδου παῖδα μεταπεσούσης). In this way, the reader is informed that the martyr was executed under Vahram’s reign. As a result, the Metaphrastic re-elaboration is more cohesive, clearer, and more informative than the earlier texts. Furthermore, in the first line of the passio we find one of the typical formulae (διέποντος σκῆπτρα) employed by Symeon in his prologues, as identified by Zilliacus,27 as well as another typically Metaphrastic feature, a proverb: πάντα λίθον ἐκίνει. The insertion of proverbs also occurs later on in the narrative, in the section devoted to the interrogation of the martyr. Here another three proverbs are attested, quoted one after another, none of which appear in the earlier sources (par. 10, ll. 144–45: εἰς ὕδωρ γράφειν, καὶ λίθον ἕψειν καὶ θάλατταν σπείρειν).

Omissions In the Metaphrastic re-elaboration, the technique of omitting sections of earlier texts is often employed. This is especially evident in the second part of Symeon’s version concerning the saint’s martyrdom by progressive mutilation. All four pre-Metaphrastic recensiones are very similar in terms of structure. The first nine paragraphs focus on the events prior to the martyrdom. The second part (par. 10–41) provides a meticulous description of the martyrdom by creating a long list of every single part of the martyr’s body that is systematically mutilated by his executioners. The enumeration of fingers, toes, and limbs that are cut off is structured as a long prayer pronounced by the martyr.28 In his invocation, James uses a form of religious symbolism 27 Zilliacus, “Zur stilistischen Umarbeitungstechnik des Symeon Metaphrastes,” 334. Another formula, the short periphrasis εἷλκε τὸ γένος to indicate the πατρίς of the protagonist, is present in the Passio of James (par. 1, l. 11) as well as in the Passio of Plato (par. 1, l. 11). 28 On the physical resilience of the tortured saints, related to their desire for martyrdom, see S. Constantinou, “The Saint’s Two Bodies. Sensibility under (Self-) Torture in Byzantine Hagiography,” Classica et Medievalia 66 (2015), 285–320. On the theme of martyrdom as a

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that relates to each number. For example, in all versions, three relates to the biblical episode of the three young men in the furnace (Dan. 3.19–97); four pertains to the fourth of the twelve children of Jacob, namely Judas;29 eight is connected with the Jewish custom of circumcising male children on the eighth day after their birth; nine is linked to the ninth hour when Christ died on the Cross,30 and so forth. The first part of Symeon’s version (par. 1–13, ll. 1–204) shares several elements in common with the earlier sources. Nevertheless, the distance between the sources and the Metaphrastic re-elaboration is evident especially with regards to the second part of the earlier accounts (par. 10–41), which has almost no relation to Symeon’s re-working. Here the Metaphrastic re-elaboration is radical: the description of the martyrdom is very concise and the progressive mutilations of the saint are absent, as is the meticulous numbering of fingers and limbs that appears in the sources and the related numerical symbolism. This prompts the question as to why the redactor of the Metaphrastic version eliminated the catalogue of mutilations. The vast amount of direct speech in the sources is not a plausible reason as Symeon could have easily changed it into indirect speech. A possible explanation may be the repetitive character of such enumeration, in which the development of the narrative is foreseeable, or the fact that this list was not considered essential to the progression of the plot. It is also possible that Symeon wished to avoid shocking his reader/ audience with such horrific descriptions of mutilation. Another significant omission concerns a dialogue between the Persian king and his courtesans. If we compare the section of the Metaphrastic passio where the king makes the decision to cut James into pieces (par. 14, ll. 204–12) with the pre-Metaphrastic sources, we find that in Symeon’s redaction the dialogue is absent. In all recensions edited by Devos (par. 6 in α, β, and γ) the king summons his counsellors, asking them what kind of punishment James deserves, in direct speech. The most evil among them suggests mutilation, again using direct speech. In Symeon’s version, the dialogue does not occur: it is reported that a certain person proposes (ἀποφαίνεται par. 14, l. 208) a new and inhumane kind of torture to the king, inspired by the devil. Dialogues are also omitted in the following two paragraphs (15–16) of the Metaphrastic version, where the king eventually makes the decision to follow the advice of the evil man, and sentences James to death. Subsequently the saint is taken to the place of his martyrdom where he delivers his confessio. Symeon’s version31 shows a radically altered structure and style from the literary spectacle and the voyeuristic attitude on behalf of the hagiographer and the reader, see D. Frankfurter, “Martyrology and the Prurient Gaze,” Journal of Christian Studies 17.2 (Summer 2009), 215–45 and, more recently, C. Papavarnavas, “The Role of the Audience in the Pre-Metaphrastic Passions,” Analecta Bollandiana 134 (2016), 66–82, especially 71. 29 P. Devos, “Recensions α et β,” 185 and 200–01. Idem, “Recensions γ et δ,” 237. 30 P. Devos, “Recensions α et β,” 186–87 and 202–03. Idem, “Recensions γ et δ,” 238–39. 31 Par. 15–17, ll. 212–71.

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pre-Metaphrastic sources.32 The most striking difference is that the sources extensively employ the dialogue form to describe the development of the plot concisely, namely the events that lead to the saint’s sentence. Symeon, on the other hand, does not use dialogue at all in this section, but only direct speech for the confessio, in this case following the pre-Metaphrastic sources. He focuses on different elements concerning the preparation of the martyrdom, describing the sight of a crowd of spirits who are attending the execution, the executioners in the stadium, the instruments they are about to use to cut the saint to pieces, and James’ fearless attitude. In the Metaphrastic version of the passio the technique of omission is also employed in other passages. For instance, we can observe that the final paragraph of α, β, and γ (45) describes the collection of the saint’s relics,33 whilst in Symeon’s epilogue (par. 27, ll. 420–30) reference to the relics is absent, as in version δ. Even though the creation of new epilogues (as well as prologues), independent of the sources, is a typical Metaphrastic feature,34 it is difficult to identify a plausible reason why the episode of the relics’ collection was omitted. This example illustrates how complicated it is to determine if the Metaphrast followed clear and consistent criteria in making the decision to leave out episodes or passages of the older texts. In general, a possible reason for the elimination of earlier material could have been that the source seemed repetitive. Another hint is represented by the extensive presence of dialogues. Furthermore, the length of the pre-Metaphrastic text, in itself, can be a factor. Based on my analysis, I do not believe that these criteria are systematically followed. However, more analysis, which includes a larger number of Metaphrastic and Metaphrastic texts, would be necessary to reinforce this statement.

Common Elements in the pre-Metaphrastic and Metaphrastic Texts, Appearing in Different Sections of the Account It is difficult to ascertain if any of the four pre-Metaphrastic texts edited by Devos lie behind Symeon’s version. However, it appears that versions β and γ were particular favourites, as well as parts of the other two, because we find common elements. These are present in different sections of the earlier accounts and re-elaborated by the Metaphrast, without following the order in which they appear in the sources. For example, in the Metaphrastic version, 32 See par. 6–9 in all four versions: P. Devos, “Recensions α et β,” 182–83 and 197–99. Idem, “Recensions γ et δ,” 234–35 and 253–55. 33 Par. 45 in α, β and γ, cf. P. Devos, “Recensions α et β,” 192 and 209–10. Idem, “Recensions γ et δ,” 247–48. 34 Cf. H. Zilliacus, “Zur stilistischen Umarbeitungstechnik,” 336 and C. Høgel, Symeon Metaphrastes, p. 92.

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the passage where the saint speaks to the king against idols echoes elements contained in all four pre-Metaphrastic recensions (underlined below). Metaphrastic version (par. 13, ll. 194–96): Ἥλιον δὲ καὶ σελήνην, καὶ ἄστρα, καὶ πῦρ παρὰ Θεοῦ δεδημιουργῆσθαι πιστεύομεν, καθάπερ δὴ καὶ τἆλλα στοιχεῖα, καὶ τὴν αἰσθητὴν ἅπασαν κτίσιν· Θεὸν δέ, ἢ τέκνον Θεοῦ λέγειν τί τούτων καθ᾽ ὑμᾶς35 ἢ φρονεῖν, ἢ τὴν προσήκουσαν Θεῷ προσκύνησιν αὐτοῖς νέμειν; In the earlier texts, the short reference to the sun, moon, and stars with relation to the Zoroastrian faith is contained in the dialogue between James and the king (par. 5 in all four pre-Metaphrastic versions). However, in the sources, the person who speaks is the king, not the martyr: α: οὔτε τῷ Θεῷ προσκυνεῖτε οὔτε ἡλίῳ οὔτε σελήνῃ οὔτε τῷ πυρὶ οὔτε τῷ ὕδατι ἅτινά εἰσιν τέκνα Θεοῦ.

β: οὔτε γὰρ τῷ Θεῷ προσκυνεῖτε οὔτε τῷ ἡλίῳ οὔτε τῇ σελήνῃ οὔτε τῷ πυρὶ οὔτε τῷ ὕδατι ἅτινά εἰσιν τέκνα Θεοῦ

γ: οὔτε τοῖς θεοῖς προσκυνεῖν, τῷ ἡλίῳ καὶ τῇ σελήνῃ καὶ τῷ πυρὶ καὶ τῷ ὕδατι

δ: οὔτε γὰρ φωσφόρον σεβεῖτε οὔτε σελήνην προσκυνεῖτε οὔτε πῦρ οὔτε ὕδατι ἅτινά εἰσιν τέκνα Θεοῦ

The fact that we read about the Persian religion in the first part of the pre-Metaphrastic versions while in the Metaphrastic narration it appears only at the end of the first half of the text may provide a hint of the way Symeon may have re-worked earlier texts. He might have selectively collected material from different sections of his sources, adjusting them to serve his own account, without necessarily following the same order as his sources. Another passage of the Metaphrastic version illustrates this method of rewriting as one of Symeon’s possible techniques. In this case, it seems that the Metaphrast assembled different elements of the earlier sources, not necessarily following the order of their accounts. After a very concise statement informing the audience that the executioners cut James’ fingers and toes, the protagonist’s invocation is reported in direct speech (par. 17, ll. 262–71): Metaphrastic version: Πρῶτα μὲν οὖν ἐτέμνοντο δάκτυλοι, χειρῶν καὶ ποδῶν ἐξαρθρούμενοι, ἐφ᾽οἷς οἷά τις ἄμπελος κειρομένη ὁ ἀθλητὴς διακείμενος ἀνθηρὸν εἶχε τὸ πρόσωπον καὶ φαιδρόν. Διὸ δὴ καὶ εὐχόμενος, “ Ἐπίσκεψαι τὴν ἄμπελον ταύτην” εἶπεν “ἣν ἐφύτευσεν ἡ δεξιά σου καὶ τῷ σῷ ἐλέει κατάρτησον, ἵνα τοῖς ἐκτμηθεῖσι τούτοις δακτύλοις μου, ὡς ἐν ψαλτηρίῳ δεκαχόρδῳ σοι ψαλῶ Χριστὲ μονογενὲς τοῦ Θεοῦ παῖ. Εὐχαριστῶ σοι ὅτι με κατηξιώσας τῆς μακαρίας ταύτης σφαγῆς, διὰ τὸ σὸν ὄνομα τὸ πανάγιον, τὸ ἐπικληθὲν ἐν ἐμοί”

35 I would like to thank Martin Hinterberger for emending my edition by suggesting this alternative reading.

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Pre-Metaphrastic versions (par. 20 of version δ is not edited): Version α (par. 20): Καὶ ἔκοψαν τὸν δέκατον δάκτυλον, καὶ ἐξομολογησάμενος εἶπεν “Ἐξομολογήσομαί σου Κύριε, ἐν ὅλῃ καρδίᾳ μου· διηγήσομαι πάντα τὰ θαυμάσιά σου· οὐ γὰρ διὰ τὴν τιμωρίαν ταύτην ἀπαρνήσομαί σε.”

Version β (par. 20): Καὶ ἔκοψαν τὸν δέκατον δάκτυλον αὐτοῦ, καὶ ἐξομολογησάμενος εἶπεν· “Ἐν τῷ ἰῶτα ψηφίζεται πᾶς ἀριθμός, καὶ ἐν τῷ ἰῶτα Ἰησοῦς Χριστὸς ἡ λύτρωσις τοῦ κόσμου· διὰ τοῦτο κἀγώ, ὁ μικρὸς ἐν ψαλτηρίῳ δεκαχόρδῳ ψαλῶ σοι τῷ καταξιώσαντί με διὰ τοῦτο τοῦ δακτύλου τὴν ἐκτομὴν ὑπομεῖναι, ἵνα ἀντὶ τῶν νεύρων τῆς κιθάρας ἐν τοῖς δέκα μου δακτύλοις ὑμνήσω τὴν δόξαν σου· καὶ ψαλῶ τῷ ὀνόματί σου Ὕψιστε.”

Version γ (par. 20): Ὡς δὲ ἀπέτεμον καὶ τὸν δέκατον δάκτυλον αὐτοῦ, εὐχαριστήσας τῷ Κυρίῳ εἶπεν “Ἐν τῷ ἰῶτα ψηφίζεται πᾶς ἀριθμός, καὶ ἐν τῷ ἰῶτα Ἰησοῦς Χριστὸς ἡ λύτρωσις καὶ σωτηρία τοῦ κόσμου. Καὶ ἐν ψαλτηρίῳ δεκαχόρδῳ ψαλῶ σοι Χριστὲ μονογενῆ Υἱὲ τοῦ Θεοῦ ὅτι κατηξίωσάς με τὸν ταπεινὸν καὶ ἐλάχιστον τῆς μακαρίας σφαγῆς ταύτης, διὰ τοῦτο ὑμνῶ τὴν ἀκατάληπτόν σου δόξαν καὶ ἐξομολογοῦμαι τῷ ὀνόματί σου, Κύριε, τῷ φοβερῷ καὶ ἐνδόξῳ ἐν πάσῃ τῇ γῇ.”

In this section of the passio, elements present in versions β and γ but not α are echoed in Symeon’s re-elaboration.36 In the earlier recensiones, the Biblical quotation, Ps. 143 (144).9: ἐν ψαλτηρίῳ δεκαχόρδῳ ψαλῶ σοι, which only appears in β and γ, refers to the cutting of the tenth finger. This image of the ten-string psalter, retained by the Metaphrast, seems to be the only surviving echo of the numerical symbolism in his sources. Similarly, another, almost indentical, short phrase occurs in the Μetaphrastic text (μακαρίας ταύτης σφαγῆς) and only in version γ (μακαρίας σφαγῆς ταύτης). In his re-elaboration, Symeon employs the image of the grapevine (ἄμπελος) by introducing a literal quotation from Ps. 79 (80).15–16. The theme of the grapevine, generically referring to the discourse of the True Vine in John 15.1–8, appears in all four pre-Metaphrastic redactions, but in a different section of the account (par. 10).37 In this instance, the Metaphrast has dramatically condensed ten paragraphs of his sources (10–19), skipping nine of them and merging elements of par. 10 and par. 20, that is, the metaphor of the grapevine and the image of the ten-string psalter. Moreover, he probably retained other elements of the earlier texts (highlighted in bold), such as the verb καταξιόω, as well as the noun ὄνομα, from versions β and γ and the adjective μονογενές, which only appears in γ. A possible memory of the verb ἀπέτεμον from recensio

36 Par. 20 of δ has not been edited by Devos. 37 P. Devos, “Recensions α et β,” 184 and 200. Idem, “Recensions γ et δ,” 236 and 255.

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γ or of the noun ἐκτομήν from recensio β may be recognised in the dative ἐκτμηθεῖσι in the Metaphrastic re-elaboration. The presence of such elements shared between the Metaphrastic text and the pre-Metaphrastic versions β and γ suggest their re-working by Symeon. However, it is not easy to decide whether a particular early text has been used in the composition of the new redaction, as different elements from all four versions are echoed throughout the Metaphrastic re-elaboration.

Amplification As part of Symeon’s technique, amplification is illustrated by means of periphrasis and connective sentences in the passage describing James’ mother and wife’s reaction on discovering that he had abjured his Christian faith (par. 2 in all pre-Metaphrastic versions). The women were fervent Christians. As soon as they found out that their son and husband had shunned his faith, they sent him a letter saying that they would consider him as a stranger if he did not repent. Recensio α, 2: Ἀκούσασα δὲ ἡ μήτηρ καὶ ἡ γυνὴ αὐτοῦ, μετὰ πάσης σπουδῆς χαράξασαι γράμματα ἐδήλωσαν αὐτῷ, ἑπόμεναι τῇ ἐκκλησιαστικῇ ἀκολουθίᾳ, λέγουσαι·

[5] ll. 46–59: Ἐπεὶ γὰρ τὸ πονηρὸν τοῦτο διάγγελμα, τὰς ἀκοὰς πάντων διῄει, ὅτι Ἰάκωβος τὰ Χριστιανῶν ἐξομοσάμενος, περὶ πλείονος ἔθετο θεραπείαν θνητοῦ ἢ Θεοῦ, ἡ μήτηρ Recensio β, 2: Ἀκούσασα δὲ ἡ γυνὴ αὐτοῦ εὐθὺς ἐκείνου καὶ ἡ κοινωνὸς τοῦ καὶ ἡ μήτηρ, μετὰ πάσης σπουδῆς χαράξασαι βίου, τῆς τῶν Χριστιανῶν μερίδος γράμματα, ἀπέστειλαν αὐτῷ ἑπόμεναι τῇ ὑπάρχουσαι, ἰσχυρῶς πληγεῖσαι τῶ ἐκκλησιαστικῇ ἀκολουθίᾳ· ἀδοκήτῳ τῆς ἀκοῆς, ζήλῳ τε τῷ περὶ τὴν ψυχὴν ἐκκαυθεῖσαι, καὶ ἡ μὲν, υἱοῦ Recensio γ, 2: Ἀκούσασαι δὲ ταῦτα ἥ τε θάνατον, ἡ δὲ ἀνδρὸς ἀποδυρομένη μήτηρ αὐτοῦ καὶ ἡ γυνὴ μετὰ πάσης – πῶς γὰρ ἂν αὐταῖς καὶ ἐκρίθη ζῶν, σπουδῆς χαράξασαι γράμματα, ἀπέστειλαν ὁ κατὰ πίστιν ἤδη διαφθαρείς; – ἐπεὶ αὐτῷ ἐπιστολὴν ἑπόμεναι τῇ ἐκκλησιαστικῇ μὴ εἶχον αὐτῷ γλώσσῃ τὰ δέοντα καταστάσει, περιέχουσαν οὕτως· παραινεῖν, οὐδὲ γὰρ ἦν εἴσω τῶν Bαβυλῶνος ὁρίων, ἀλλ᾽ἔξω που τῆς Recensio δ, 2: Ἀκούσασα τοίνυν ἡ μήτηρ, πόλεως ἐτύγχανεν ὤν, γράμμασιν ὅσα τοιγαροῦν σχεδὸν εἰπεῖν τε καὶ ἡ γυνὴ καὶ γλώττῃ χρησάμεναι, τὴν ἀγαθὴν γραμμάτιόν τε διὰ πάσης σπουδῆς Ἰακώβου ψυχὴν παραπεισθεῖσαν τοῦ ἐγχαράττουσιν, ἐπιμεῖναι τοῦτον τῇ δέοντος ἀνορθοῦσιν. ἐκκλησιαστικῇ ἐπισπεύδουσιν ἀκολουθίᾳ·

By comparing these texts, Symeon’s predilection for periphrasis is evident. For example, he employs ἀκοὰς πάντων διῄει instead of a simple verb (ἀκούω), which appears in participial form in all the pre-Metaphrastic recensions. He also alters the noun γυνή to ἡ κοινωνὸς τοῦ βίου. In addition, the Metaphrast uses another short periphrasis to highlight the Christian

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identity of the two women: τῆς τῶν Χριστιανῶν μερίδος ὑπάρχουσαι, resorting to a participle. The use of periphrasis is not the only reason for Symeon’s redaction to appear longer than all the earlier recensions. This is also due to the presence of three connective sentences (underlined above). The first explains what the bad news (πονηρὸν τοῦτο διάγγελμα) is about, namely that James has abjured his faith; the second stresses that both women were Christian whilst the third clarifies the reason why his mother and his wife had to send him a letter, namely his absence from home. In the earlier texts, this explanation is given only after the letter is quoted so, once again, the account is more cohesive in the Metaphrastic re-working. Another typical aspect of Symeon’s re-elaboration is the attention devoted to the psychological attitudes of the characters. Particular attention is drawn to the reaction of the two women: they are shocked by the unexpected news (ἰσχυρῶς πληγεῖσαι), and their souls are burning (ἐκκαυθεῖσαι) with zeal, for what they want above all is to save their son and husband from impiety. Both bitterly lament (ἡ μὲν, … ἡ δὲ ἀποδυρομένη). Symeon’s choice to amplify results in a rather complex grammatical structure, very distant from the paratactic prose of the earlier texts. This effect is also obtained by the substantial resort to participles, which enables the redactor to build longer periods. The rhetorical question that follows, which is introduced by πῶς γάρ, is functional both in explaining their reaction and in reinforcing the pathos of the scene. At the same time, it shows that Symeon intended to keep a higher level of style. This is also suggested by the employment of the compound verb διαφθείρω to indicate the degree of his loss of religious faith, which ultimately leads to the destruction of his soul. In terms of grammar, the presence of a periphrastic construction ἐτύγχανεν ὤν is typical of Metaphrastic re-working, enabling the redactor to avoid parataxis. It is also worth noting that the use of Atticism is inconsistent, as the alternative use of γλώσσῃ/γλώττῃ shows. Amplification is also employed in the next section, which gives an account of James’ reaction after he reads the letter from his mother and wife, followed by a description of his repentance. Here the common elements between the Metaphrastic text and the earlier versions (par. 3–4 in all versions) are very few and Symeon has amplified the old text by adding new images.38 For each pre-Metaphrastic version, I only quote the few lines echoed in Symeon’s text.

38 P. Devos, “Recensions α et β,” 179–80, 195. Idem, “Recensions γ et δ,” 232, 251.

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Recensio α, 3: Καὶ ἀναγνοὺς ὁ μακάριος τὴν πεμφθεῖσαν αὐτῷ ἐπιστολήν, εὐθὺς ἦλθεν εἰς ἑαυτόν, καὶ ἡ μετάνοια ἔμπροσθεν αὐτοῦ ἔβλυσεν ὡς πηγὴ ῥέουσα ζωὴν αἰώνιον καὶ ἐν ἑαυτῷ διελέγετο […]. 4 Καὶ εὐθὺς ἐξέδραμεν ἐπὶ τὴν ἰδίαν σκηνὴν καὶ τὰς ἁγίας γραφὰς ἐν ταῖς χερσὶν ἐβάσταζεν καὶ σπουδαίως ἀνεγίνωσκεν […] καὶ ὡς ἐξ ὕπνου μετεστράφη αὐτοῦ ἡ προθυμία καὶ ἤρξατο ἐν ἑαυτῷ λέγειν […].

[7] ll. 81–102: Ταῦτα ἐπεὶ τὰ γράμματα Ἰάκωβος ἐθεάσατο, καθάπερ ἐξ ὕπνου τινὸς καὶ μέθης ἀνενεγκών, καὶ πλήρης ἐννοιῶν γενόμενος ἀνανοησάμενός τε οἷον ἀπώλεσε τῆς πίστεως θησαυρόν, καὶ οἵου φωτὸς ἑαυτὸν ἀποστήσας σκότει περιέπεσε τῆς πλάνης βαθεῖ, πολὺς ἦν εἰς μετάνοιαν, καὶ πῦρ αὐτὸν κατανύξεως εἰσῄει, καὶ δακρύων μάλα θερμῶν ἠφίει Recensio β, 3: Ἀναγνοὺς δὲ τὴν ἐπιστολὴν πηγάς, ἐναργῆ σύμβολα τῆς τῶν ἐδάκρυε λέγων […] ἡ μετάνοια αὐτοῦ ἔβρυεν ἤδη πραχθέντων μεταμελείας· ὥσπερ πηγή. 4 Καὶ εὐθέως ἐξέδραμεν ἐπὶ τὴν στεναγμοί τε βαρεῖς ἐν πικρίᾳ ἰδίαν σκηνὴν καὶ ταῖς ἁγίαις γραφὰς ἑαυτὸν ψυχῆς ἐκφερόμενοι, ὀλοφυρμοὶ καὶ ἐπιδιοὺς ὡς ἐξ ὕπνου τὴν ψυχὴν αὐτοῦ στερνοτυπίαι καὶ οἰμωγαί, θρῆνος διήγειρεν λέγων […]. καὶ μέλος τὸ τῆς θείας γραφῆς καὶ οὐαὶ διηκούοντο. Τίς ἂν ἐκείνην Recensio γ, 3: Δεξάμενος δὲ ὁ μακάριος τὴν τὴν τραγῳδίαν, τίς τὴν σύγχυσιν ἐπιστολὴν καὶ ἀναγνοὺς, εἰς ἑαυτὸν ἐλθὼν τῆς ψυχῆς διαγράψοι λόγος; Ἐπὶ ἔλεγε πρὸς ἑαυτὸν […]. 4 Καὶ σπεύσας τούτοις ἐξηγόρευε τὰ ἡμαρτημένα, ἔδραμεν ἐπὶ τὴν σκηνὴν αὐτοῦ καὶ λαβὼν ἵν᾽ ἀφεθῇ αὐτῷ ἡ τῆς καρδίας τὴν βίβλον ἀνεγίνωσκεν μετὰ προθυμίας καὶ ἀσέβεια· ἑαυτοῦ κατήγορος ἦν ἐν κατανύξεως πολλῆς καὶ ὁ νοῦς αὐτοῦ κατὰ πρωτολογίᾳ, ἵνα φανῇ δίκαιος· μέρος διηνοίγετο καὶ προθυμία αὐτῷ καὶ πνεῦμα καὶ καρδίαν προσῆγε πόθος περὶ τὴν πίστιν ἐγίνετο καὶ δακρύων συντετριμμένην, ἵν᾽ ὑπὸ Κυρίου μὴ ἔλεγεν […]. ἐξουδενωθῇ· ἐμιμεῖτο τῇ μεταμελείᾳ τὸν Μανασσῆ· ὁ Πέτρος ἦν αὐτῷ Recensio δ, 3: Ταύτην δεξάμενος τὴν ἐπιστολὴν ὑπόδειγμα πρὸς μετάνοιαν· γραφῶν δακρυρροῶν πικρῶς ἐξεβόησεν […] Ἔτι ἱερῶν ἐπὶ τούτοις μελέτη παράνομος τούτου τὰ τοιαῦτα , ῥέων ἅμα ἔννοια τῶν ἐκεῖσε δικαστηρίων, ὧν τοίνυν καὶ ἕλκων καθώς τις ἄλλος ποταμηδὸν οὕτως ἐναργῆ τὴν μνήμην εἰς τὴν ῥεῦμα ἡ καρδία αὐτοῦ μετανοῶν, ὥσπερ τις αὐτοῦ καρδίαν ἐνέγραψεν, ὡς ἂν ἔχρην εἰπεῖν πηγὴ[ν] ῥέουσα[ν] ζωὴν αἰώνιον. ἤδη παρὼν καὶ κρινόμενος καὶ τῶν 4 Οὗτος τοίνυν δραμὼν ὁ τρισαριστεύς, καὶ βεβιωμένων τὰς εὐθύνας ὑπέχων. ἐπὶ τὸν οἰκίσκον αὐτοῦ ἐγκαθώρμητο, τὸ οὖν γραμματεῖον αὐτῶν ἐπιδούς, ὥς τις ἐξ ὕπνου τὴν ψυχὴν διαγεῖραι, λέγων […].

By comparing the Metaphrastic passage with the earlier texts, it appears that Symeon made some drastic changes. The two similes present in all recensions, except γ, are retained in the later version: the saint resembles a man waking up from sleep (ἐξ ὕπνου) after he realizes his fault and appears like a fountain (πηγή) of tears. Symeon elaborates in both cases. The idea of awakening is accompanied by the image of drunkenness: ἐξ ὕπνου τινὸς καὶ μέθης, while the noun πηγή, given in the plural (πηγάς), is followed by a detailed description of James’ tears and laments. Moreover, these two

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images do not appear in the same order as in the earlier texts. It is clear, therefore, that in this case, the metaphrastic redaction gives the same pieces of information as the pre-Metaphrastic versions ( James repents and reads the Bible), but organizes them differently. From the analysis of this passage, it appears that the process of amplification could imply a drastic re-elaboration of the sources: a few elements from the earlier material have been chosen and rephrased. The most striking factor in Symeon’s text is the stylistic and rhetorical effort displayed. In order to describe how the saint realizes that he has lost his Christian faith, a number of metaphorical images are used. His faith is described both as a treasure (θησαυρόν) and as light in antithesis to the deep darkness of error (φωτὸς ἑαυτὸν ἀποστήσας σκότει περιέπεσε τῆς πλάνης βαθεῖ). The metaphor of the fire of compunction (πῦρ … κατανύξεως) burning the penitent is also added. Following these three metaphorical images, we find a sequence of synonyms related to the action of lamenting: στεναγμοί, ὀλοφυρμοί, στερνοτυπίαι καὶ οἰμωγαί and οὐαί. A rhetorical question is introduced by the interrogative adjective τίς, related to λόγος and is repeated twice. It is expressed in the optative form (διαγράψοι) in accordance with classicizing conventions, which is also an indication of a high level of style. The dramatic tone of this passage is epitomized by the use of the term τραγῳδία to describe the scene. The Metaphrastic description of the protagonist’s repentance is further enriched by a series of metaphorical images pertaining to juridical vocabulary, namely the saint becoming his own prosecutor (κατήγορος) as well as acting as the first accuser (ἐν πρωτολογίᾳ).39 The insertion of two biblical quotations, not present in the earlier texts, appears to be a Metaphrastic insertion.40 Moreover, it is added that James imitated (ἐμιμεῖτο) the repentance of King Manasses41 and followed the example (ὑπόδειγμα) of Peter’s repentance after he disowned the Lord.42 From the textual analysis of these passages of the Passio of James, it emerges that the operation of amplifying the old texts results in their rephrasing by means of a more complex syntactical structure. An extensive array of rhetorical devices and periphrasis is employed in a style that is far from the original paratactic prose of the sources. All the elements mentioned above are typical features of Metaphrastic re-elaboration and serve to raise the linguistic register of the new versions.

39 πρωτολογία is the right of the prosecutor to speak first (LSJ s.v.). The expression occurs in Pr. 18.17. 40 Ez. 2.10 (θρῆνος καὶ μέλος … καὶ οὐαὶ) and Ps. 50 (51).19 (πνεῦμα καὶ καρδίαν … συντετριμμένην). 41 2 Chron. 33.12–19. 42 Matt. 26.75; Mark 14.72; Luke 22.62.

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Psychological Analysis Attention to the psychological reactions of the protagonists is evident in other passages of the Metaphrastic re-elaboration of James’s passio. For example, in the dialogue between the martyr and the Persian king (par. 9, ll. 117–30), much emphasis is given to the theme of the latter’s rage: he is described as entirely incapable of exercising any control over his passions and is totally overwhelmed by them: ὁ βασιλεὺς τὸν σφoδρὸν πόθον ἐκεῖνον εἰς ὀργὴν ἄκρατον μεταβεβλημένος, ἀφόρητος ἦν, ἀκάθεκτος, ὅλως τῷ πάθει νενικημένος (ll. 118–20). Moreover, the Metaphrastic version gives a detailed account of his psychological reactions, even illustrating the way in which his voice altered as a result of his heart beating faster, to the extent of it sounding as if it was “broken”: τῷ σάλῳ τῆς καρδίας ἐπικοπτόμενος τὴν φωνὴν ὥσπερ καὶ κομματικὴν ποιούμενος τὴν ἐρώτησιν (ll. 122–23). By contrast, in the pre-Metaphrastic versions, the king’s anger is mentioned very briefly in a short sentence where we are informed that he was burning like fire from his anger (α, β, and γ) and that he became infuriated (δ) (par. 6 in all pre-Metaphrastic versions): α: τότε ὁ βασιλεὺς ὠργίσθη, καὶ ἡ ὀργὴ αὐτοῦ ὡς πῦρ ἐκαίετο.

β: τότε ὁ βασιλεὺς ὠργίσθη, καὶ ἡ ὄψις αὐτοῦ ὁμοία πυρὶ γέγονεν.

γ: τότε ὀργισθεὶς ὁ βασιλεύς, καὶ ὥσπερ πῦρ τῷ θυμῷ ἀναφθεὶς ἐκέλευσεν…

δ: ὁ ἀλιτήριος ἐμμανὴς ἐγεγόνει καὶ μετ᾽ὀργῆς καὶ θυμοῦ στραφεὶς…

A similar interest in psychology also emerges from an analysis of the prosecutor in the Metaphrastic Passio of Plato. Comparison with its pre-Metaphrastic recensio shows that Symeon’s version devotes much more attention to psychological reactions, to the point that we can conclude that it can be considered a significant Metaphrastic feature. This tendency is confirmed by other examples in the Metaphrastic corpus that cannot be exhaustively quoted here,43 but it is not consistently documented throughout the Menologium.44

Condensing Another typical Metaphrastic technique is the condensing of earlier texts resulting in a shorter redaction. For example, the dialogue between the king 43 On this topic, see L. Franco, “Psychological Introspection and the Image of Sanctity in the Metaphrastic Menologion,” in Metaphrasis: A Byzantine Concept of Rewriting and Its Hagiographical Products, The Medieval Mediterranean 125, eds., S. Constantinou and C. Høgel (Leiden, 2020), pp. 249–69. 44 For example, in the Metaphrastic version of the life of Stephen the Younger, ed. by F. Iadevaia, Vita di santo Stefano Minore (Messina, 2003, 2nd ed.), I have not observed a similar attention on the psychology of the characters.

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and the martyr in Symeon’s version is shortened and treated differently (par. 9, ll. 121–30). In α, β, γ and δ, the dialogue occupies a long paragraph (5), consisting of a sequence of very short questions and answers, which echo the typical style of the Acta martyrum. In the Metaphrastic text, however, this sort of stichomythia is summarized into a few lines (121 and 125–30). Questions and answers are reported in direct speech and, in syntactical terms, they are more complex than those in the pre-Metaphrastic texts. In fact, even though the re-elaborated text is shorter, the periods are much longer and often structured as brief rhetorical speeches. We can observe a similar procedure in the Passio of Plato, where the most striking difference between the pre-Metaphrastic text and Symeon’s redaction is that in the latter, dialogue is employed to a lesser extent than the earlier text: there are 67 changes of speakers in the earlier text compared to 26 in the Metaphrastic version. Even if we consider that the latter version is shorter, it is quite clear that the Metaphrast was more economical than the redactor of the earlier text, as far as the employment of the dialogue form is concerned. As in the case of James, questions and answers generally consist of longer sentences, usually rhetorically constructed, into which the content of the earlier texts is condensed.

Wordplay and Latin Borrowings A tendency to avoid Latin loan words and the use of wordplay, such as alliteration and playing with proper names, are two other typical characteristics of Symeon’s style. However, in the Passio of James, we find only one example of the latter habit (par 9, ll. 123–24). At the beginning of the dialogue between the king and the martyr, Symeon introduces a transitional sentence explaining that the figure of the μάγος (magus or “priest”) is kept in very high esteem among the Persians: μέγα δὲ παρὰ Πέρσαις ὁ μάγος. Here alliteration is employed (μέγα/μάγος), also creating wordplay. In the Passio of Plato we find wordplay with the name of the protagonist (par. 1, l. 8) Πλάτων/πλατυνόμενος. Here the Metaphrast uses the participle to express the concept that the faith of the protagonist is widening, even though the number of Christians is shrinking. In another passage, the adjective ἄγριος is employed to describe the cruel nature of the persecutor, the vicarius Agrippinus (par. 11, l. 167 καὶ κλήσει καὶ τρόποις ἄγριος). Later on, the verb ἀγριαίνω (par. 19, l. 262 ἀγριάνας ἐπὶ πλέον ὁ Ἀγριππῖνος) is also utilised for him. Similarly, in the Vita of Hilarion (par. 18, l. 168), the adverb ἱλαρῶς is used to emphasise the pleasant character of the protagonist. As regards the tendency to avoid Latin borrowings, James’ passio is not the best case to investigate, as there are no Latin words in his pre-Metaphrastic sources. However, in Plato’s re-elaboration a number of Latinisms is retained, although the general attitude is to avoid them. For example, the noun βικάριος appears several times (for example, l. 31, 55, and 69) and κομεντάριος is also

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retained (l. 148). This is preceded by an explanation of the Latin term, specifying that it indicates a dignity (ἀξία), a typical attitude of the Metaphrastic re-elaboration. When coming across a word that does not belong to the Greek language, the borrowing is explained, in order to “justify” its presence.45 Finally, it is worth mentioning one example from Hilarion’s vita. The term scutarius appears transliterated into Greek in all the pre-Metaphrastic sources and becomes a proper name in Symeon’s version: Σκουτάριος γάρ τις ἀνὴρ ὄνομα (par 87, l. 812). In this case, the Metaphrast has either misunderstood scutarius – which seems unlikely as it is not a rare or difficult term – or he turned it into a proper name in order to avoid a Latin word. Zilliacus identified a similar case where Symeon confused (or changed?) the generic noun ματρώνη with a proper name.46

Conclusions The examples presented here represent a necessarily limited repertory of parallel passages that can offer us only a glimpse of the Metaphrastic process. The overall impression is that there are general trends but they are not systematically followed. It is possible to observe several “inconsistencies,” which seems to confirm Psellos’ suggestion that Symeon’s Menologium is the collective work of a team carried out under the supervision of the Metaphrast. Further comparative research on the Metaphrastic corpus and its pre-Metaphrastic tradition would shed further light on this important chapter of Byzantine hagiography.

45 H. Zilliacus, “Das lateinische Lehnwort in der griechischen Hagiographie,” Byzantinische Zeitschrift 37 (1937), 302–44, at 327. 46 Ibid., 343.

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Rewriting the Life of St John Chrysostom in Tenth-Century Byzantium*

Among those studying Byzantine hagiographical literature, it is well known that in tenth-century Byzantium we encounter a remarkable concentration of texts dealing with the life of John Chrysostom, the fourth-century Antiochian preacher and bishop, and later archbishop of Constantinople.1 Apparently, the upheavals in his public life provided rich material for Byzantine authors and had great narrative potential.2 My starting point is to investigate the sources used to compose the version of John Chrysostom’s life that was transmitted within the Metaphrastic Menologion.3 As part of an ongoing study, the focus

* The following abbreviations have been used for the texts: Anon. Sa. (BHG 876): Τοῦ ἐν ἁγίοις πατρὸς ἡμῶν Ἰωάννου ἀρχεπισκόπου Κωνσταντινουπόλεως τοῦ Χρυσοστόμου τῶν εὑρισκομένων, 8, ed. E. Savilius (H. Savile) (Eton, 1612), pp. 294–371. Anon. Vatop. (BHG 874h): F. van Ommeslaeghe, “Une Vie acéphale de S. Jean Chrysostome dans le Batop. 73,” Analecta Bollandiana 94 (1976), 317–56. Hesychii Lexicon: Hesychii Alexandrini Lexicon, 1–2: A–O, ed. I. C. Cunningham; 3: Π–Σ, ed. P. A. Hansen; 4: Τ–Ω, eds, I. C. Cunningham and P. A. Hansen, Sammlung griechischer und lateinischer Grammatiker 11.1–4 (Berlin, 2005–20). Suidae Lexicon: Suidae Lexicon, 1–5, ed. A. Adler, Lexicographi Graeci 1.1–5 (Stuttgart, 1928–38). VIoChrysG (BHG 873, CPG 7979): Douze récits byzantins sur Saint Jean Chrysostome, Subsidia hagiographica 60, ed. F. Halkin (Brussels, 1977), pp. 70–285 (no. III). VIoChrysM (BHG 875): PG 114, cols 1045–1209. VIoChrysN (BHG 876k): Th. Antonopoulou, “The Unedited Life of St John Chrysostom by Nicetas David the Paphlagonian. Editio princeps, Part 1,” Byzantion 87 (2017), 1–67. 1 John Chrysostom was also highly admired by Emperor Constantine VII Porphyrogennetos, as is pointed out by Th. Antonopoulou, “The Unedited Life of St John Chrysostom by Nicetas David the Paphlagonian: An Introduction,” Byzantion 86 (2016), 1–51, here at 3 with n. 6. 2 For a discussion of Byzantine hagiographical texts on John Chrysostom’s life from the perspective of envy as a motivating force, see M. Hinterberger, Phthonos. Mißgunst, Neid und Eifersucht in der byzantinischen Literatur, Serta graeca 29 (Wiesbaden, 2013), pp. 346–61. 3 On the Metaphrastic Menologion, see C. Høgel, Symeon Metaphrastes. Rewriting and Canonization (Copenhagen, 2002), esp. pp. 135–49 (on style and authority). According to Høgel, the composition of Symeon’s Menologion dates to the 980s, see ib. p. 70 and p. 127. See further, C. Høgel, “Symeon Metaphrastes and the Metaphrastic Movement,” in ARCBH, 2, pp. 181–96. Metaphrasis in Byzantine Literature, ed. by Anne P. Alwis, Martin Hinterberger and Elisabeth Schiffer, Studies in Byzantine History and Civilization, 17 (Turnhout, 2021), pp. 87–107 FHG10.1484/M.SBHC-EB.5.123039

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of this contribution lies in questions of intertextual relationship and methodology, and is based on a selection of texts that are labelled as βίος, or βίος καὶ πολιτεία. Until now, encomia, reports on the translation of the saint’s relics, and historiographical sources have not been included in the parallel reading. Clearly, the Metaphrastic4 life of John Chrysostom (VIoChrysM) stands at the end of a series of lives. The question of their relationship has long occupied (and still occupies) those interested either in Chrysostom’s biography or its literary reception. Progress was first achieved by Chrysostomus Baur in his standard work on Chrysostom.5 Baur’s findings focused mainly on content-related issues, not language or style. Since his research was published, not only has the textual basis improved,6 but today we also have knowledge of a text about which Baur was unaware, namely the life of John Chrysostom by Niketas David the Paphlagonian (VIoChrysN).7 This turns out to be an important piece of the mosaic of Byzantine hagiographical texts on Chrysostom, as Theodora Antonopoulou has shown.8 It is assumed that no less than four lives preceded the Metaphrastic life (VIoChrysG, VIoChrysN, Life X9 and Anon. Sa.). At least three date to the tenth century (VIoChrysN: second quarter of the tenth century; Life X and Anon. Sa.: c. 950). Most probably, another tenth-century life, written by the so-called Anonymus of Vatopedi (Anon. Vatop.), should also be counted among the pre-Metaphrastic texts on Chrysostom. The character of the lives that precede the Metaphrastic redaction will be summarised below, as far as necessary for our purposes.10 As the parallel passages will demonstrate, the chronology of the texts and the degree of their dependence on one another is not evident.



4 For the sake of clarification, in this chapter, the adjective “Metaphrastic” refers to texts that are part of Symeon Metaphrastes’ Menologion. 5 C. Baur, Der heilige Johannes Chrysostomus und seine Zeit, 1–2 (Munich, 1929–30), 1, pp. xix–xxiii. 6 In his day, for printed texts, Baur had to use the seventeenth-century edition by Henry Savile, who included texts that dealt with Chrysostom’s life in the eighth and final volume of his Chrysostomian edition. See above, n. * (VIoChrysG: 8, pp. 157–290, Anon. Sa.: 8, pp. 294–371, VIoChrysM: 8, pp. 373–428). 7 Baur assumed that the encomion (BHG 881c) and the life (BHG 876k), written by Niketas David the Paphlagonian, were the same text: see Antonopoulou, “Unedited Life, Introduction,” 25 with n. 93. 8 The editio princeps of the first part of this text was published by Antonopoulou: VIoChrysN. 9 F. van Ommeslaeghe was the first to deduce a missing link between Anon. Vatop. and the Metaphrastic redaction, a conclusion that has been confirmed by Antonopoulou, who calls this lost text Life X; see below n. 30. Regarding the date, Antonopoulou convincingly demonstrates that Life X was based on VIoChrysN; consequently, this lost life must have been written around the middle of the tenth century. 10 For a more detailed characterisation, see Antonopoulou, “Unedited Life, Introduction,” 24–38.

Rewriting the Life of St John Chrysostom in Tenth-Century Byzantium

The Life by George of Alexandria The entire Byzantine hagiographical tradition related to John Chrysostom is based on a widely known life written by a certain George, archbishop of Alexandria (VIoChrysG), according to its title.11 This text is based on the fifth-century writings that recount John Chrysostom’s life, namely Palladius’ dialogue (BHG 870, CPG 6037) and Ps.-Martyrius of Antioch’s funerary speech (BHG 871, CPG 6517). It is also based on historiographical and Chrysostomian writings.12 The text’s dissemination was provided through its liturgical use as the most common reading for 13 November, one of the saint’s feastdays. This can be traced in menologia up to the latest pre-Metaphrastic version.13 For this reason, George of Alexandria’s life was easily available to later hagiographical authors who wrote on Chrysostom. It was used as a source-text by the authors of the texts mentioned above (Niketas, Anon. Sa., and Anon. Vatop.), as well as by Symeon Metaphrastes. The person behind “George of Alexandria” is unknown. Photios was the first to admit that he had nothing to say about this author.14 An Alexandrian bishop named George is actually attested at the beginning of the seventh century since he died around 630. Accordingly, François Halkin dated this life to before 630. Baur, on the other hand, believed that it was written in the period between 680 and 725.15 In our context, the author’s identification and

11 In addition, dissemination of George of Alexandria’s life beyond the Greek tradition is attested, namely by an Old Bulgarian translation as early as the end of the ninth century: see Die Vita des Johannes Chrysostomos des Georgios von Alexandrien in kirchenslavischer Übersetzung, 1–3, ed. E. Hansack (Würzburg, 1975–84). 12 Among these are the Ecclesiastical Histories by Socrates and by Theodoretus of Cyrrhus, as well as Chrysostom’s De sacerdotio and some of his letters. For a detailed analysis, see C. Baur, “‘Georgius Alexandrinus’,” Byzantinische Zeitschrift 27 (1927), 1–16, here 7–16. 13 We should not forget that the majority of the texts we classify as pre-Metaphrastic collections have come down to us in manuscripts dating from later periods, in most instances, from the eleventh and twelfth centuries. On the manuscripts and the characteristic features of the “jüngste vormeta­phrastische Fassung des Menologions,” see A. Ehrhard, Überlieferung und Bestand der hagiographischen und homiletischen Literatur der griechischen Kirche von den Anfängen bis zum Ende des 16. Jahrhunderts, Erster Teil: Die Überlieferung, 1, Texte und Untersuchungen zur Geschichte der altchristlichen Literatur 50 (Leipzig, 1937), pp. 524–25 and B. Flusin, “Vers la Métaphrase,” in Remanier, métaphraser – fonctions et techniques de la réécriture dans le monde byzantin, eds, S. Marjanović-Dušanić and B. Flusin (Belgrade, 2011), pp. 85–99, esp. at 88–92. 14 Photius, Bibliotheca, cod. 96 (78b.25–27), ed. R. Henry, 2 (Paris, 1960), pp. 48–49: Ἀνεγνώσθη βιβλίον τὰ περὶ τὸν Χρυσόστομον ἐπιγραφὴν ἔχον Γεωργίου ἐπισκόπου Ἀλεξανδρείας· ὅστις δ’ἐστὶν οὗτος, οὐκ ἔχω σαφές τι παραστῆσαι. 15 For discussion of authorship and the date of this life, see the exhaustive bibliography mentioned in Antonopoulou “Unedited Life, Introduction,” 7–8 with n. 10 and n. 11. Furthermore, K. Krause points out that the text of the visio Procli in George of Alexandria’s life is rendered almost identical in wording as early as John of Damascus: see K. Krause, “Göttliches Wort aus goldenem Mund. Die Inspiration des Johannes Chrysostomos in Bildern und Texten,” in Chrysostomosbilder in 1600 Jahren, eds, M. Wallraff and R. Brändle (Berlin, 2008), pp. 139–67, here at 141 with n. 6; for the visio Procli, see also below example 1.

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exact date are not essential for the text’s evaluation – it is its transmission within pre-Metaphrastic hagiographical collections that is significant. Regarding an assessment of the text’s language and style, it is interesting to consult Photios once more, who criticises the author’s “simple way of speaking, vulgar language and … inaccurate putting together of nouns and verbs.”16 We would call this text representative of “lower-middle style,” to use an expression coined by Ihor Ševčenko on the classification of levels of style.17 From the time period in between the lives by George of Alexandria and by Symeon Meta­phrastes, several closely interwoven, stylistically-revised texts have come down to us. However, the pre-Metaphrastic tradition on John Chrysostom does not include a text explicitly labelled as a metaphrasis.18

The Tenth-Century Lives The earliest of the tenth-century lives is Niketas the Paphlagonian’s (VIoChrysN), a representative of high-style hagiography. Antonopoulou dates this text to the second quarter of the tenth century.19 If we take this life’s title in its codex unicus, Thessalonica, Moni Vlatadon MS 4, an eleventh-century mixed Metaphrastic Menologion,20 at face value, this text was written at the request of the Emperor Constantine VII. Although Niketas’ life did not serve as a direct source of the Metaphrastic redaction, as Antonopoulou has pointed out,21 there is a strong indirect connection via the so-called Life X, the deduced common source of the Anon. Vatop. and Symeon Metaphrastes’ version, that drew on Niketas’ life. It is assumed that the similarities between these three texts reveal Life X’s text-form. Another life, written by the so-called Anonymus Savilii (Anon. Sa.), has been available in print since Henry Savile’s early seventeenth-century edition 16 Photius, Bibliotheca, cod. 96 (78b.27–31), ed. Henry, 2, p. 49: Ἔστι μέντοι τὴν φράσιν ἁπλοῦς καὶ εἰς πολλὴν χυδαιότητα κατενηνεγμένος, μηδὲ τοῦτο δὴ τὸ παρὰ τοῖς γραμματικοῖς κατὰ χεῖρας, τὴν τῶν ὀνομάτων καὶ ῥημάτων σύνταξιν ἠκριβωμένος. See also T. Hägg, “Photius as Reader of Hagiography: Selection and Criticism,” Dumbarton Oaks Papers 53 (1999), 43–58, here 48–51 on Photios’ epitome and his evaluation of John Chrysostom’s life by George of Alexandria. 17 See his seminal study, I. Ševčenko, “Levels of Style in Byzantine Prose,” Jahrbuch der Österreichischen Byzantinistik 31.1 (1981), 289–312, esp. 291–92. 18 On the rewriting of hagiographical texts from the late eighth century onwards, see, most recently, Høgel, “Symeon Metaphrastes and the Metaphrastic Movement,” and D. Resh, “Toward a Byzantine Definition of Metaphrasis,” Greek, Roman and Byzantine Studies 55 (2015), 754–87. See also her contribution in this volume. 19 Antonopoulou, “Unedited Life, Introduction,” 11. 20 For the description of this manuscript, see Antonopoulou, “Unedited Life, Introduction,” 2–5. 21 See Antonopoulou, “Unedited Life, Introduction,” 38. This fits well with insights gained from studying the text’s transmission: to the best of my knowledge, Symeon only drew on those texts of Niketas’ encomia that were transmitted in the latest pre-Metaphrastic redaction of the Menologion: see E. Peyr (= E. Schiffer), “Zur Umarbeitung rhetorischer Texte durch Symeon Metaphrastes,” Jahrbuch der Österreichischen Byzantinistik 42 (1992), 143–55, here 145–47.

Rewriting the Life of St John Chrysostom in Tenth-Century Byzantium

of Chrysostomian writings.22 Anon. Sa. dates to the middle of the tenth century and we would also call this text representative of “high style.” It has come down to us in a non-liturgical context, in only one manuscript dating to the Byzantine period: Munich, Bayerische Staatsbibliothek, MS gr. 108,23 preceding Theodore Daphnopates’ excerpts of John Chrysostom’s homilies (CPG 4684).24 The author of this life remains unknown25 and the text has not yet found a critical edition. As far as a relationship is concerned, Antonopoulou argued that the Anon. Sa. is based directly on Niketas’ life and that there is an indirect relationship between the Anon. Sa. and the Metaphrastic text.26 Furthermore, both Anon. Sa. and VIoChrysM rely on autobiographical passages of Chrysostomian writings, such as his epistles and the treatise “On the priesthood” (de sacerdotio [CPG 4316]).27 Martin Hinterberger drew our attention to the fact that the Anon. Sa. shows changes in language and style that – if we were unaware of the Anonymus’ existence – we would assign to the reworking method applied in the Metaphrastic Menologion.28 Yet another anonymous life, written by the so-called Anonymus of Vatopedi (Anon. Vatop.), dates to the tenth century, in all probability. This acephalous life is transmitted in codex Mount Athos, Moni Vatopediou MS 73, an eleventh-century “Jahres­panegyrikon.”29 In comparison with the other lives

22 See above n. * and n. 6. 23 Codex Munich, Bayerische Staatsbibliothek, MS gr. 108 dates from around the year 1000. For its description, see M. Molin Pradel, Katalog der griechischen Handschriften der Bayerischen Staatsbibliothek München, 2: Codices graeci Monacenses 56–109 (Wiesbaden, 2013), pp. 321–24 (This manuscript is accessible online at http://mdz-nbn-resolving.de/urn:nbn:de:bvb:12bsb00082620-5, accessed 2020–05–29). Henry Savile printed the text on the basis of Codex Vienna, Österreichische Nationalbibliothek MS hist. gr. 52 (a.1557), a manuscript directly transcribed from the Monacensis: see Molin Pradel ib., p. 322. 24 On this type of non-liturgical use of biographical texts, see M. Hinterberger, “Byzantinische hagiographische Literatur des 10. Jahrhunderts: Quellenkritik – reizvolle Erzählung – Fiktion,” in Biographie als Weltliteratur. Eine Bestandsaufnahme der biographischen Literatur im 10. Jahrhundert, eds, S. Enderwitz and W. Schamoni (Heidelberg, 2009), pp. 57–81, p. 63 with n. 24. 25 The Anonymus’ vocabulary seems unique. Comparison with the material collected in the LBG did not indicate a specific author. 26 The existence of a lost common source for Anon. Sa. and VIoChrysM is suggested by Antonopoulou in addition to the texts already mentioned: see Antonopoulou, “Unedited Life, Introduction,” 37–38. 27 Antonopoulou, “Unedited Life, Introduction,” 31–34, with references and emendations to the earlier studies by F. van Ommeslaeghe and W. Lackner. 28 M. Hinterberger, “Between Simplification and Elaboration: Byzantine Metaphraseis Compared,” in Textual Transmission in Byzantium: Between Textual Criticism and Quellenforschung, Lectio 2, eds, J. Signes Codoñer and I. Pérez Martín (Turnhout, 2014), pp. 33–60, here at 47–50. This observation addresses the immanent methodological difficulty of whether we actually possess a source-text and its redaction, or whether we should expect another text in between. 29 For the classification of Codex Mount Athos, Moni Vatopediou MS 73 as a pre-Metaphrastic collection, see A. Ehrhard, Überlieferung und Bestand der hagiographischen und homiletischen Literatur der griechischen Kirche von den Anfängen bis zum Ende des 16. Jahrhunderts, Erster

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considered here, it is very concise and there is hardly any deviation from the circulating source-texts. As far as its stylistic level is concerned, it is more elaborate than George’s life, but less than Niketas’. In contrast to the Anon. Sa., which is directly based on Niketas’ text, Anon. Vatop.’s position in the series of lives of John Chrysostom is unclear, as the passages below will demonstrate. While working on the edition of this text, Florent van Ommeslaeghe was the first to assume a lost common source for the Metaphrastic life and the Anon. Vatop. When she traced possible relationships between Niketas’ life and its descendents, and also among these descendents, Antonopoulou concluded that van Ommeslaeghe was correct in his assumption, and called this missing link Life X.30 In order to illustrate the complexity of the different adaptations of John Chrysostom’s life, several small units are discussed below as case examples. This juxtaposition aims to determine the tenth-century lives’ relevance for the Metaphrastic redaction.31 In this sample of nearly contemporaneous texts – written during a timespan of approximately only two generations (920s–980s) – we can open up a different direction for future study by questioning the possibilities an author had to express facts and thoughts, rather than focusing on whether a text was the earlier or the later one.

Observations on Selected Passages Before passing to examples 1–4, an explanation concerning their presentation is needed. Due to the complex relationships, it is not possible to visualise all correspondences and similarities, and thus the following system has been adopted to mark details of special significance: − notable correspondence between VIoChrysG and VIoChrysM − notable correspondence between Anon. Vatop. and VIoChrysM − notable correspondence between VIoChrysG and Anon. Sa. − notable correspondence between VIoChrysG and Anon. Vatop. − notable correspondence between VIoChrysN and Anon. Vatop. − notable correspondence between Anon. Sa. and Anon. Vatop. − notable correspondence between VIoChrysN, Anon. Sa. and Anon. Vatop. (these correspondences are assumed to indicate Life X)

Teil: Die Überlieferung, 2, Texte und Untersuchungen zur Geschichte der altchristlichen Literatur 51 (Leipzig, 1938), p. 29. 30 See Van Ommeslaeghe, “Une Vie acéphale,” 324–25 and Antonopoulou, “Unedited Life, Introduction,” 33–38. Antonopoulou places the Anon. Vatop. “in-between Nicetas and Metaphrastes,” ibid., 31. 31 Concluding her study on Niketas’ life, Antonopoulou calls our attention to the, still, unanswered question regarding the relationship between Anon. Sa. and the Metaphrastic life: see Antonopoulou “Unedited Life, Introduction,” 37–38.

Rewriting the Life of St John Chrysostom in Tenth-Century Byzantium

Correspondences between the VIoChrysN and the Anon. Sa. have not been indicated, as we assume – following Antonopoulou – that the Anon. Sa. takes the VIoChrysN and develops the material. Striking matches of single words or small units are printed in bold.

Example 1: Inspired Writing: The Visio Procli (relating to VIoChrysG c. 27)32 A well-known episode transmitted in the life of John Chrysostom is the so-called visio Procli. It relates to the composition of the Chrysostomian Homilies on the Pauline epistles (CPG 4429 and 4450). Proclus, John Chrysostom’s secretary, reveals a supernatural influence in the writing of these homilies. The story reads as follows. Proclus is seeking access to John Chrysostom, on behalf of a noble supplicant, and in the course of several unsuccessful attempts, he supernaturally witnesses someone standing near Chrysostom who whispers in the saint’s ear. The unknown visitor looks like Paul, the apostle, whose icon is hanging on the wall. This similarity tells the audience that these homilies were inspired by the apostle himself.33 1.a From the beginning, the simple introductory sentence to the visio Procli gives a general impression of the close intertextual relationship between the texts. Nevertheless, there are minor changes, which give evidence of the reworking method: VIoChrysG c. 27 (p. 143) Ἀνήρ τις τῶν ἀξιωματικῶν τῆς Πόλεως διαβληθεὶς ὑπὸ βασκάνων ἀνθρώπων τῷ βασιλεῖ προφάσει τινὸς αἰτίας, ἠγανακτήθη ὑπ’αὐτοῦ καὶ ἐκβάλλεται τοῦ παλατίου, ἐξωσθεὶς καὶ τῆς ἀξίας αὐτοῦ. VIoChrysN c. 25.30–32 Ἐν ταῖς ἡμέραις ἐκείναις τῶν ἀπὸ τῆς συγκλήτου μάτην Ἀρκαδίῳ διεβλήθη τῷ βασιλεῖ, ὃς καὶ τῶν βασιλείων ἀπέρριπτο καὶ τοῦ ἀξιώματος ἀδίκως ἀπεστέρηται.34

32 This episode is drawn in detail in the VIoChrysG, pp. 142–48. 33 The scene experiences an increasing level of popularity in pictorial art. From the late eleventh century onwards, the visio Procli serves as the illustration on the front page of Chrysostom’s life in illustrated manuscripts of the Metaphrastic Menologion: see K. Krause, “Göttliches Wort,” p. 147. See also P. Holloway, “Portrait and Presence: A Note on the Visio Procli (George of Alexandria, Vita Chrysostomi 27),” Byzantinische Zeitschrift 100 (2007), 71–83, where this scene is placed in the wider literary context of a person’s substitution by a portrait, a stylistic device known from Greco-Roman antiquity. 34 In the critical apparatus, Antonopoulou expresses her doubts regarding this form: an ἀπεστέρητο scribendum?

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Anon. Sa. 323.26–27 (Monac. gr. 108, fol. 34v) Ἀνήρ τις κατ᾿ἐκεῖνο καιροῦ τῆς συγκλητικῆς μετέχων τιμῆς, Ἀρκαδίῳ τῷ βασιλεῖ ἀδίκως ὑπό τινος διαβληθεὶς καὶ τῶν βασιλείων ἀπέρριπτο καὶ τοῦ ἀξιώματος ἀπεστέρητο. Anon. Vatop. c. 17 (p. 333) Ἀνήρ τις ἦν ἐν ἐκείναις ταῖς ἡμέραις τῆς συγκλητικῆς μετέχων τιμῆς. Οὗτος Ἀρκαδίῳ τῷ βασιλεῖ ὑπό τινος διαβληθεὶς καὶ τῶν βασιλείων ἀπέρριπτο καὶ τοῦ ἀξιώματος ἀπεστέρητο. VIoChrysM 1104A Ἀνήρ τις τῶν ἐν τέλει35 καὶ τῇ κατὰ κόσμον περιφανείᾳ διάσημος ὑπὸ τῷ βασκάνῳ θεαθεὶς ὀφθαλμῷ καὶ εἰς βασιλέα διαβληθεὶς – φεῦ τοῦ πικροῦ φθόνου καὶ τῆς τοῦ ἐχθροῦ μοχθηρίας – τῶν βασιλείων ἅμα καὶ τῆς τιμῆς ἀπελαύνεται. In terms of the main content, the different versions of this sentence do not diverge from each other. We notice a close relationship between the VIoChrysN, the Anon. Sa., and the Anon. Vatop., whereas the VIoChrysM’s rendering of this sentence is closer to the VIoChrysG. The striking resemblance between the VIoChrysG and the VIoChrysM is their common thought relating to βασκανία as the impetus for the reported defamation (VIoChrysG ὑπὸ βασκάνων ἀνθρώπων – VIoChrysM ὑπὸ τῷ βασκάνῳ θεαθεὶς ὀφθαλμῷ). The idea of ascribing blame to evil-minded persons or to a, somehow, supernatural power, that is, the evil eye, is absent in the other texts. A common feature in the VIoChrysN, the Anon. Sa., and the Anon. Vatop. is the emperor’s name. The Anon. Vatop.’s position within the tenth-century’s redactions is not exactly known but, based on this sentence, it becomes clear that it shows more similarities with the VIoChrysN and the Anon. Sa. than with the VIoChrysM. In terms of vocabulary, the Latin loanword παλάτιον in the VIoChrysG is replaced by the puristic Greek τὰ βασίλεια in all tenth-century versions, confirming the strong tendency to eliminate Latin loanwords.36 In addition, the Metaphrastic version combines διαβάλλομαι with a preposition and accusative instead of διαβάλλομαι with the dative, which appears in all the other lives (VIoChrysG, Anon. Sa., Anon. Vatop. διαβληθεὶς … τῷ βασιλεῖ / VIoChrysN διεβλήθη τῷ βασιλεῖ – VIoChrysM εἰς βασιλέα διαβληθεὶς). The specification of time, ἐν ταῖς ἡμέραις ἐκείναις in the VIoChrysN / ἐν ἐκείναις ταῖς ἡμέραις in the Anon. Vatop., reminiscent of New Testament writings, is replaced in the Anon.

35 For a specification of this expression, see Suidae Lexicon ε 1455: ἐν τέλει· ἐν ἀρχῇ. 36 The replacement of Latin loanwords was one of the earliest phenomena studied in the reworking method – not only, but especially – of Symeon Metaphrastes: see H. Zilliacus, “Das lateinische Lehnwort in der griechischen Hagiographie,” Byzantinische Zeitschrift 37 (1937), 302–44.

Rewriting the Life of St John Chrysostom in Tenth-Century Byzantium

Sa. by κατ᾿ἐκεῖνο καιροῦ, which is a very common expression in Ancient Greek and Byzantine prose. It is also used, for example, by Niketas the Paphlagonian, as well as throughout the Metaphrastic Menologion.37 Nevertheless, in this sentence, it is used solely in the Anon. Sa. From such examples, we learn repeatedly that authors do not strictly adhere to certain substitutions while reworking a text.38 Finally, we also notice singularities in the Metaphrastic redaction: Symeon puts stronger emphasis on the description of the noble man by mentioning the supplicant’s eminent rank regarding worldly glory (ἀνήρ τις τῶν ἐν τέλει καὶ τῇ κατὰ κόσμον περιφανείᾳ διάσημος). Furthermore, the exclamation that mentions envy and the satanic origin of the defamation fits perfectly into the Metaphrastic preference for interjections that earlier studies have ascertained as additions in these texts.39 On the other hand, tightening is achieved by using one verb instead of the parallel construction found in all the other tenth-century lives40 (VIoChrysN / Anon. Sa. / Anon. Vatop. ἀπέρριπτο … ἀπεστέρητο – VIoChrysM ἀπελαύνεται). This is a further example of another characteristic feature of Symeon’s reworking method: the avoidance of pluperfect forms, which are considered a “widespread mannerism” among classisising authors.41 1.b. Towards the end of the visio Procli, three of the texts in question (VIoChrysN, Anon. Sa., and VIoChrysM) introduce an element of excitement by initially hiding (and, at a later point, revealing) the visitor’s identity. Such a device is not used in the VIoChrysG and in the Anon. Vatop. In these texts, it is evident from the beginning that the apostle Paul is the man who occupies John Chrysostom’s time. The earliest life (VIoChrysG) compares the appearance of the apostle to Prophet Elisha, a detail that the later authors expand with a scriptural allusion, naturally, with the exception of the Anon. Vatop. VIoChrysG c. 27 (p. 144) … καὶ ἔρχεται πρὸς τὴν θύραν τοῦ κοιτῶνος· καὶ παρακύψας διά τινος ὀπῆς ὁρᾷ τὸν Ἰωάννην καθήμενον ἐπὶ τοῦ θρόνου αὐτοῦ καὶ γράφοντα καὶ τὸν ἅγιον

37 See, for example, in the lives of John Chrysostom: VIoChrysN 2.40, 13.16, 28.1 and VIoChrysM 1069B, 1114D, 1141A. For a much earlier evaluation of κατ᾿ἐκεῖνο καιροῦ, see Phrynichos, who, generally, is displeased about this expression and advises that it should be used – if at all – in combination together with the article: see Phrynichus, Ecloga 244 (246), ed. E. Fischer, Die Ekloge des Phrynichos (Berlin, 1974), p. 68. There is also a relevant entry in the Suda, where the reader is provided with an example of how to use this expression in context, but there is no further comment on its use: Suidae Lexicon κ 934: κατ’ἐκεῖνο δὴ καιροῦ, ἐν ᾧ ὁ βασιλεὺς ἐτεθνήκει. 38 M. Hinterberger noticed the inconsistent reworking method applied in the Metaphrastic Menologion in “Byzantinische hagiographische Literatur des 10. Jahrhunderts,” p. 76. See also S. Papaioannou, “Voice, Signature, Mask: The Byzantine Author,” in The Author in Middle Byzantine Literature, ed. A. Pizzone (Boston, 2014), pp. 21–40, here at 37. 39 See E. Schiffer, Untersuchungen zum Sprachniveau metaphrastischer Texte und ihrer Vorlagen, unpubl. diss. (Vienna, 1999), pp. 117–18 (with further references). 40 In the consensus of VIoChrysN, Anon. Sa., and Anon. Vatop., Life X should be recognised. 41 See Hinterberger, “Between Simplification,” p. 49.

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Παῦλον ἀνακεκλιμένον ἐξόπισθεν τοῦ θρόνου πρὸς τὴν κεφαλὴν αὐτοῦ καὶ ἔχοντα τὸ στόμα αὐτοῦ κάτω εἰς τὸ οὖς αὐτοῦ τὸ δεξιὸν καὶ ὁμιλοῦντα αὐτῷ· ἦν γὰρ Ἐλισσαία ἡ μορφὴ αὐτοῦ καὶ ὁ πώγων τέλειος καὶ πλατύς. Προσακροασάμενος δὲ ἀκοῦσαί τι βουλόμενος τῶν λαλουμένων οὐδενὸς ἤκουσεν. VIoChrysN c. 25.39–45 … πρόσεισι Πρόκλος τῷ τοῦ ἁγίου κοιτῶνι, ἔνθα κατὰ μόνας καθήμενος τῇ ἑρμηνείᾳ τῆς εἰρημένης ἐσχόλαζε γραφῆς. Δι’ὀπῆς δέ τινὸς ἐγκύψας ὁρᾷ Ἰωάννην μὲν ἀμετακλινῶς ἐπικύ­πτοντα καὶ γράφοντα· ἄνδρα δέ τινα φαλακρὸν πλατεῖαν ἐμφαίνοντα τὴν γενειάδα οἷον ὁ λόγος τὸν Ἐλισσαιὲ γράφει42 πρὸς τὸ δεξιὸν αὐτοῦ οὖς ἐπικεκυφότα καὶ λαλοῦντα. Οὕτως ὁ Πρόκλος ἰδὼν … Anon. Sa. 323.32–37 (Monac. gr. 108, fols 34v–35r) … ἐγγίσας δὲ τῷ ἱερῷ κοιτῶνι ᾧ κατὰ μόνας ὁ τὰ θεῖα σοφὸς ἐναποκλειόμενος τῇ ἑρμηνείᾳ τῆς ἀποστολικῆς ἐσχόλαζε συγγραφῆς, καὶ δι᾿ὀπῆς τινὸς ἐνιδὼν ὁρᾷ Ἰωάννην μὲν ἀτενῶς ἐπικύπτοντά τε καὶ γράφοντα· ἄνδρα δέ τινα φαλακρὸν πλατεῖαν ἐμφαίνοντα τὴν γενειάδα οἷον ὁ λόγος τὸν Ἐλισσαιὲ γράφει πρὸς τὸ δεξιὸν οὖς ἐπικεκυφότα μάλα καὶ προσλα­λοῦντα αὐτῷ. Οὕτως ὁ Πρόκλος ἰδὼν … Anon. Vatop. c. 17 (p. 333) … πρόσεισι Πρόκλος τῷ ἱερῷ τοῦ μεγάλου κοιτῶνι, καὶ δι’ὀπῆς τινὸς ἐγκύψας ὁρᾷ τὸν μακάριον ἀμετακλινῶς ἐπικύπτοντα καὶ γράφοντα Παῦλον δέ, τὸν θεῖον ἀπόστολον, ἐπικεκλι­μένον ὄπισθεν τοῦ θρόνου καὶ τὸ στόμα θέντα τῷ δεξιῷ τούτου ὠτὶ καὶ ὁμιλοῦντα αὐτῷ. Τοῦτο ἰδὼν ὁ Πρόκλος … VIoChrysM 1104Β … καὶ κοιτῶνι δὲ προσελθὼν ἔνθα σχολάζων ὁ μέγας πόνου εἴχετο καὶ τῇ ἑρμηνείᾳ προσκε­κυφὼς ἦν, ἐν χρῷ43 θυρῶν τε τὸν ὀφθαλμὸν προσπελάσας καὶ δι᾿ὀπῆς, ὡς ἐγχωροῦν ἦν διαβλέ­ψας, ὁρᾷ τὸν Ἰωάννην ἐχόμενον μὲν τοῦ γράφειν καὶ αὐτῷ προσπονούμενον ἄνδρα δέ τινα φαλακρὸν οἷον αἱ εἰκόνες τὸν Ἐλισσαῖον ἔχουσι, πλατὺ τὸ γένειον, καθειμένον ἐπὶ τῶν ὤμων, ἠρέμα τῷ μακαρίῳ προσμίξαντα καὶ πρὸς οὖς ἐκείνῳ διαλεγόμενον. Ταῦτα ἰδόντα τὸν Πρόκλον … As we have seen in example 1.a, the VIoChrysN, the Anon. Sa., and the Anon. Vatop. share the most correspondences despite the fact that the Anon. Vatop., which is generally more concise, immediately reveals the visitor’s identity. We notice that the Anon. Vatop. is the only text that follows the wording of the VIoChrysG in describing the way the apostle is standing near John Chrysostom (VIoChrysG ἀνακεκλιμένον ἐξόπισθεν τοῦ θρόνου … καὶ ὁμιλοῦντα αὐτῷ – Anon. Vatop. ἐπικεκλιμένον ὄπισθεν τοῦ θρόνου … καὶ ὁμιλοῦντα αὐτῷ). Such

42 Cf. 4 Kingdoms 2.23. 43 For an explanation of this expression, see Suidae Lexicon ε 1506: ἐν χρῷ· εἰς χρῶτα, πάνυ ἐγγύς, ὡς καὶ ἐφάπτεσθαι.

Rewriting the Life of St John Chrysostom in Tenth-Century Byzantium

correspondences between the VIoChrysG and the Anon. Vatop. are rarely found, and thus suggest that the relation between the texts is not a question of linear dependency, but one of amalgamation. As we have already seen, the Anon. Vatop. corresponds, to a great extent, to the VIoChrysN and the Anon. Sa. but, in some instances, the VIoChrysN and the Anon. Vatop. show certain similarities that are not accidental (VIoChrysN / Anon. Vatop. δι᾿ὀπῆς τινὸς ἐγκύψας ὁρᾷ Ἰωάννην and ἀμετακλινῶς ἐπικύ­πτο­ντα καὶ γράφοντα against Anon. Sa. δι᾿ὀπῆς τινὸς ἐνιδὼν ὁρᾷ Ἰωάννην and ἀτενῶς ἐπικύπτοντά τε καὶ γράφοντα). From such examples we learn that the Anon. Sa. is generally very close to the VIoChrysN (see, for example, VIoChrysN / Anon. Sa. ἄνδρα δέ τινα φαλακρὸν … προσλα­λοῦντα αὐτῷ) but also elaborates his source (VIoChrysN τῷ τοῦ ἁγίου κοιτῶνι, ἔνθα κατὰ μόνας καθήμενος – Anon. Sa. τῷ ἱερῷ κοιτῶνι ᾧ ἐναποκλειόμενος; VIoChrysN γραφῆς – Anon. Sa. συγγραφῆς; VIoChrysN λαλοῦντα – Anon. Sa. προσλαλοῦντα).44 However, the Anonymus of Vatopedi is inclined to retain the wording of his respective source (for example, πρόσεισι, ἐγκύψας, and ἀμετακλινῶς). These words are supposed to have been transmitted via Life X. Furthermore, we note that πώγων in the VIoChrysG is replaced in all the later versions (VIoChrysG ὁ πώγων – VIoChrysN / Anon. Sa. τὴν γενειάδα – VIoChrysΜ τὸ γένειον45) but ὁ κοιτών is retained.46 Regarding prepositional phrases, we observe the following replacement: the eight-century VIoChrysG, at a lower register, reads ἔρχομαι πρὸς + acc., whereas three of the four tenth-century texts use προσέρχομαι + dative. The Anon. Sa. is the only one to opt for ἐγγίζω + dative.47 If we look for characteristics of the Metaphrastic redaction, we note Symeon’s preference for periphrastic expressions, a peculiarity that has been described earlier48 (VIoChrysM προσκεκυφὼς ἦν, τὸν ὀφθαλμὸν προσπελάσας, 44 The Anon. Sa. has a high percentage of compound words and also multiple compound words. See, for example, in addition to the ones mentioned here, ἐπισυνάπτειν (in ex. 2), ὑπαναχωρῆσαι (in ex. 3), and συνομιλοῦντος σοι (in ex. 4). 45 The Suda, on the contrary, distinguishes explicitly between γενειάς (beard) and γένειον (chin): see Suidae Lexicon γ 142: γενειάς· αἱ τρίχες, γένειον· τὸ μέρος τοῦ σώματος. For a related lexical correspondence, see Hesychii Lexicon ψ 192: ψιλὰ τὰ γένεια· σπανοπώγων. The role of Byzantine lexica for lexical correspondences in metaphraseis is also addressed by M. Hinterberger in this volume. See further N. Churik, “Greek Explicating Greek: A Study of Metaphrase Language and Style,” in Trends and Turning Points: Constructing the Late Antique and Byzantine World, The Medieval Mediterranean 117, eds, M. Kinloch and A. MacFarlane (Leiden, 2019), pp. 66–82, esp. pp. 76–78. 46 κοιτών is registered in Hesychii Lexicon κ 3278 and explained by τὸ δωμάτιον. It is rejected by Phrynichus, who suggests using προδωμάτιον, Ecloga 222 (227), ed. Fischer, p. 82: κοιτὼν καὶ προκοιτὼν ἀδόκιμα· χρὴ οὖν προδωμάτιον λέγειν ὡς Ἀττικόν. 47 We learn from the Suda that ἐγγίζω should be constructed with the dative: Suidae Lexicon ε 62: ἐγγίζω· δοτικῇ. For the lexical correspondence, see Hesychii Lexicon π 3797: προσίει· ἐγγίζει. 48 See E. Schiffer, “Metaphrastic Lives and Earlier metaphráseis of Saints’ Lives,” in Metaphrasis. Redactions and Audiences in Middle Byzantine Hagiography, KULTs skriftserie 59, ed. C. Høgel (Oslo, 1996), pp. 22–41, esp. pp. 36–38.

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ἐγχωροῦν ἦν, ἐχόμενον τοῦ γράφειν). Furthermore, there is a remarkable modification in the Metaphrastic redaction concerning the description of Prophet Elisha: the audience is referred to the prophet’s pictorial representation in icons (VIoChrysM οἷον αἱ εἰκόνες τὸν Ἐλισσαῖον ἔχουσι). By contrast, in the VIoChrysN and the Anon. Sa., a written source, 4 Kingdoms 2.23, serves as a reference for the prophet being a bald-headed man (VIoChrysN / Anon. Sa. οἷον ὁ λόγος τὸν Ἐλισσαιὲ γράφει). This passage also gives a good example of the Anon. Sa.’s tendency for an abundance of words (VIoChrysN ἔνθα κατὰ μόνας καθήμενος τῇ ἑρμηνείᾳ τῆς εἰρημένης ἐσχόλαζε γραφῆς – Anon. Sa. ᾧ κατὰ μόνας ὁ τὰ θεῖα σοφὸς ἐναποκλειόμενος τῇ ἑρμηνείᾳ τῆς ἀποστολικῆς ἐσχόλαζε συγγραφῆς – VIoChrysM ἔνθα σχολάζων ὁ μέγας πόνου εἴχετο καὶ τῇ ἑρμηνείᾳ προσκεκυφὼς ἦν).

Example 2: The Healing of a Possessed Man (relating to VIoChrysG c. 21) The unadorned episode of the healing of a possessed man in the VIoChrysG is developed into a notable incident in all the later redactions. From the start, the words in this section reveal the close relationship of the texts under consideration. Only the Anon. Sa. elaborates on the wording of his supposed direct source, the VIoChrysN. Furthermore, in this passage, some striking correspondences between the two anonymous lives catch the eye. VIoChrysG c. 21 (pp. 131–32) Ἔτι τοῦ αὐτοῦ ὁμιλοῦντος αὐτοῖς βουλόμενος ὁ Θεὸς ἀποκαλύψαι πᾶσαν τὴν ἀρετὴν αὐτοῦ τοῦ ὁσίου, ἰδού τις ἀνὴρ ἐνοχλούμενος ὑπὸ πνεύματος ἀκαθάρτου εἰσηνέχθη ἐν τῇ ἐκκλησίᾳ καὶ παρεκάλουν τὸν μακάριον τοῦτον οἱ κατέχοντες αὐτὸν εὔξασθαι ὑπὲρ αὐτοῦ ὅπως ἰαθῇ· οὗτος γὰρ ἦν ἀφρίζων ἔχων καὶ τὴν γλῶσσαν αὐτοῦ ἔξωθεν τοῦ στόματος. VIoChrysN c. 21.76–84 Ἔτι δὲ τοῦ σοφοῦ ποιμένος τὴν παραίνεσιν πρὸς αὐτόν τε τὸν βασιλέα καὶ τοὺς συνεληλυθότας παρατείνοντος, ἵνα τοῖς αὐτοῦ λόγοις τὸ πνεῦμα τὸ ἅγιον ἐπισφραγίσαν βεβαιώσηται καὶ τὰς πάντων διανοίας ὡς ἀποστολικῇ διδαχῇ τῇ τοῦ Ἰωάννου ἐπιστηρίξῃ θεορημοσύνῃ, ἐξαπιναίως ἀνήρ τις ὑπὸ πνεύματος ἀκαθάρτου ἐνοχλούμενος καὶ κατελαυνόμενος, εἰς τὸ μέσον εἰσέδραμε τῆς ἐκκλησίας, ὃς ἦν ἀφρὸν ἀποβλύζων καὶ τὴν γλῶσσαν ἔξω τοῦ στόματος καθιείς. Ἐδέοντο οὖν ἅπαντες τοῦ ἱεράρχου προσεύξασθαι ὑπὲρ αὐτοῦ, ὅπως ἰαθῇ. Anon. Sa. 316.14–19 (Monac. gr. 108, fol. 27v) Τούτοις τοῖς λόγοις τοῦ σοφοῦ ποιμένος πάντας μετεωρίζοντος καὶ μέντοι τοῖς προλεχθεῖσιν ἐπισυνάπτειν μέλλοντος ἕτερα, ἀνήρ τις ἐξαίφνης ὑπὸ ἀκα­θάρτου διοχλούμενος πνεύματος τοῦ Θεοῦ κἀνταῦθα τὸν αὐτοῦ τιμᾶν βουλομένου θεράποντα καταμέσον τῆς ἐκκλησίας εἰσέδραμεν, ὃς ἀφρὸν ἀπεμῶν καὶ τοὺς

Rewriting the Life of St John Chrysostom in Tenth-Century Byzantium

ὀφθαλμοὺς δεινῶς διαστρέφων, τὴν γλῶσσαν ἔξω κεχαλασμένην εἶχε τοῦ στόματος οὗ ὑπερεύξασθαι τὸν μέγαν πάντων ἱκετευόντων … Anon. Vatop. c. 8 (p. 329) Ἔτι δὲ τοῦ ἁγίου τὴν ὁμιλίαν συνείροντος καὶ πλεῖστα πρὸς ψυχῆς ὠφέλειαν διαλεγομένου τοῦ Θεοῦ δοξάζειν τὸν αὐτοῦ θεραπευτὴν βουλομένου, ἀνήρ τις ἐξαίφνης ὑπὸ ἀκαθάρτου πνεύματος ἐνοχλούμενος εἰς τὸ μέσον εἰσέδραμε τῆς ἐκκλησίας, ὃς ἀφρὸν διὰ τοῦ στόματος ἀπεμῶν τὴν γλῶσσαν ἔξω τοῦ στόματος ἐχάλα. Ἐδέοντο οὖν ἅπαντες τοῦ ἱεράρχου προσευχὴν ποιῆσαι ὑπὲρ αὐτοῦ, ὅπως ἰαθῇ. VIoChrysM 1089Β Ἔτι δὲ τοῦ ἁγίου τὴν ἡδίστην συνείροντος διδαχὴν καὶ τῇ χρυσῇ γλώττῃ καὶ μουσικῇ καλόν τι καὶ ᾠδικὸν τερετίζοντος, τοῦ Θεοῦ δοξάζειν τὸν αὐτοῦ θερά­ ποντα βουλομένου, ἀνήρ τις ἀθρόον ἀκαθάρτῳ δαίμονι κάτοχος εἰς μέσον τῆς ἐκκλησίας ἑαυ­τὸν εἰσωθεῖ ἀφρόν τε τοῦ στόματος ἀπορρέων καὶ τὴν γλῶτταν, ὡς ἄκοσμον ἰδεῖν, καθιείς. Πάντων οὖν δεομένων τῆς ἁγίας ἐκείνης ψυχῆς ἴασιν τοῦ πάσχοντος ὑπερεύξασθαι, … After some transitional phrases that summarise the prior scene of public instruction, the episode actually begins with the sudden appearance of the possessed man. This is indicated in the texts by slightly different wording, mirroring the different registers: VIoChrysG ἰδού τις ἀνὴρ49 – VIoChrysN ἐξαπιναίως ἀνήρ τις50 – Anon. Sa. / Anon. Vatop. ἀνήρ τις ἐξαίφνης – VIoChrysM ἀνήρ τις ἀθρόον. Once again, the assignment of the lowest (VIoChrysG) and the highest (VIoChrysN) registers are confirmed, and we observe that Symeon Metaphrastes makes his own choice. Reading on, we notice that the VIoChrysG is the only text – as one might expect – to combine εἰσφέρομαι with ἐν and the dative (εἰσηνέχθη ἐν τῇ ἐκκλησίᾳ). This is replaced in the VIoChrysN / Anon. Vatop. by εἰς τὸ μέσον εἰσέδραμε τῆς ἐκκλησίας and slightly varied in the Anon. Sa. with καταμέσον τῆς ἐκκλησίας εἰσέδραμεν. However, the VIoChrysM reads more freely: εἰς μέσον τῆς ἐκκλησίας ἑαυ­τὸν εἰσωθεῖ. Interestingly, in the description of the possessed man, the two anonymous texts show forms of χαλάω in contrast to VIoChrysN / VIoChrysM, which correspond by using καθιείς (VIoChrysG ἔχων καὶ τὴν γλῶσσαν αὐτοῦ ἔξωθεν τοῦ στόματος – VIoChrysN / VIoChrysM καὶ τὴν γλῶτταν ἔξω τοῦ στόματος καθιείς – Anon. Sa. τὴν γλῶσσαν ἔξω κεχαλασμένην εἶχε τοῦ στόματος / Anon. Vatop. τὴν γλῶσσαν ἔξω τοῦ στόματος ἐχάλα). The common choice of the

49 To the best of my knowledge, ἰδού is only used in direct discourse and not as an interjection in a narrative in the Metaphrastic Menologion. 50 Cf. Suidae Lexicon ε 1550 ἐξαπίναιον: ἐξαίφνης. … καὶ ἐξαπιναίως, ἐξαίφνης. καὶ ἐξαπίνης.

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Anon. Sa. / Anon. Vatop. is hardly accidental and illustrates the value of further similar corresponding passages.51 Looking ahead, we note that Symeon Metaphrastes uses vocabulary that we assign to an intermediate register because he adheres to δέομαι once more (VIoChrysG παρακαλέω – VIoChrysN / Anon. Vatop. / VIoChrysM δέομαι – Anon. Sa. ἱκετεύω).52 The Anon. Sa. and the VIoChrysM both call John Chrysostom “god’s servant” (θεράπων), whereas the Anon. Vatop. opts for θεραπευτής, which, strictly speaking, usually has a different meaning (“worshipper”). In addition, there is further evidence that applying a compound word instead of a simplex is a common feature of the later redactions, not only for the sake of variation but also for the effect of elevating the register: VIoChrysG εὔξασθαι ὑπὲρ αὐτοῦ ὅπως ἰαθῇ – VIoChrysN προσεύ­ξασθαι ὑπὲρ αὐτοῦ ὅπως ἰαθῇ / Anon. Vatop. προσευχὴν ποιῆσαι53 ὑπὲρ αὐτοῦ ὅπως ἰαθῇ – Anon. Sa. οὗ ὑπερεύξασθαι – VIoChrysM τῆς ἁγίας ἐκείνης ψυχῆς ἴασιν τοῦ πάσχοντος ὑπερεύξασθαι.54 Regarding characteristics of the Metaphrastic method in this passage, we find that Symeon is the only author who creates a pun on the saint’s epithet (VIoChrysM τῇ χρυσῇ γλώττῃ). Furthermore, he applies a figurative comparison with a chirping bird (VIoChrysM καὶ τῇ χρυσῇ γλώττῃ καὶ μουσικῇ καλόν τι καὶ ᾠδικὸν τερετίζοντος) and adds a comment on the appearance of the possessed man, stating that the foam on his mouth was inappropriate to look at (VIoChrysM ὡς ἄκοσμον ἰδεῖν). These details contribute to a vivid narrative and are not found in either of the other texts.55 On the other hand, it is the Anon. Sa. who draws the audience’s attention to the unparalleled mention that the twisted position of the possessed man’s eyes was a horrible sight (Anon. Sa. τοὺς ὀφθαλμοὺς δεινῶς διαστρέφων). This observation reminds us once more that we cannot deduce strict rules for the reworking process of any of the authors under consideration. Moreover, it remains an open question how the replacement of ἀκάθαρτον πνεῦμα, which is present in all the earlier lives, with ἀκάθαρτος δαίμων in the VIoChrysM, should be interpreted. Finally, at the end of this scene, we recognise that Symeon Metaphrastes, in contrast to everyone else, elevates the prayer’s intention to a metaphorical level by addressing the soul’s recovery instead of simply praying for health.

51 For correspondence between these two texts, see the dotted lines in examples 1.a and 4. 52 All of these are mentioned as synonyms in Hesychii Lexicon γ 834: γονυπετεῖ· παρακαλεῖ. δέεται. ἱκετεύει. 53 This periphrastic way of expression is also a well-known feature of the Metaphrastic redaction: see above n. 48. 54 The variation of compound verbs in this passage can also be observed in the VIoChrysG / VIoChrysN / Anon. Vatop. ἐνοχλούμενος – Anon. Sa. διοχλούμενος – (VIoChrysM κάτοχος). See further e.g. ex. 4 (VIoChrysG) – VIoChrysN / Anon. Sa. ὁμιλῶν – Anon. Vatop. καθομιλῶν – VIoChrysM ὁμιλήσας. 55 Expanding imagery is a Metaphrastic feature that has been discussed in an earlier study: see Peyr, “Zur Umarbeitung,” 147 (n. 25) and 154–55.

Rewriting the Life of St John Chrysostom in Tenth-Century Byzantium

Example 3: A Mother’s Admonition: Anthousa and John Chrysostom (relating to VIoChrysG c. 5) A decisive moment in John Chrysostom’s life occurs when he has taken the decision to withdraw from the world. We encounter this anecdote in all the lives that have survived complete,56 and it originates from the Chrysostomian dialogue “On the priesthood” (De sacerdotio [CPG 4316]). In this passage, Chrysostom’s mother, Anthousa, addresses admonitory words to her son, trying to persuade him to revise his decision at the present time. She reminds him of the pain and the effort she endured when she gave birth to him and when she raised him as a young widow. Finally, she asks him to stay with her until her death. The Metaphrastic text adheres most closely to the Chrysostomian wording, and it becomes clear that Symeon had seen the original text. Io. Chrys., De sacerdotio, 1.2.32–37, ed. A.-M. Malingrey (Paris, 1980), p. 6657 Ἐπειδὴ γὰρ ᾔσθετο ταῦτα βουλευόμενον, λαβοῦσά με τῆς δεξιᾶς, εἰσήγαγεν εἰς τὸν ἀποτεταγμένον οἶκον αὐτῇ καὶ καθίσασα πλησίον ἐπὶ τῆς εὐνῆς ἧς ἡμᾶς ὤδινε, πηγὰς ἐφίει δακρύων καὶ τῶν δακρύων ἐλεεινότερα προσετίθει ῥήματα, τοιαῦτα πρὸς ἡμᾶς ἀποδυρομένη· “ἐγώ, παιδίον,” φησί, “τῆς ἀρετῆς τοῦ πατρὸς τοῦ σοῦ οὐκ ἀφείθην ἀπολαῦσαι ἐπὶ πολύ, τῷ Θεῷ τοῦτο δοκοῦν·…” VIoChrysG c. 5 (p. 89) Πεισθέντος δὲ αὐτοῦ (sc. τοῦ Βασιλείου)58 καὶ τοῦ πράγματος ἐν χερσὶν ὄντος, διεκωλύθη ἐκ τῶν συχνῶν τῆς μητρὸς παρακλήσεων. Ὡς γὰρ ἔγνω ταῦτα αὐτὸν βουλευόμενον, ἐπιλαβομένη τῆς δεξιᾶς αὐτοῦ χειρὸς εἰσήγαγεν ἐν τῷ κοιτῶνι αὐτῆς καὶ καθίσασα πλησίον τῆς εὐνῆς ἧς ἐγέννησεν αὐτόν, πηγάς τε δακρύων ἀφεῖσα κἀκείνων ἐλεεινότερα προστιθοῦσα ῥήματα, ἀποδυρομένη ἔλεγεν πρὸς αὐτόν· “ τοῦ σοῦ μὲν πατρὸς τῆς ἀρετῆς οὐκ ἀπήλαυσα ἐπὶ πολὺ τοῦ Θεοῦ οὕτως κελεύσαντος …” VIoChrysN c. 5.21–2959 Ἡ μήτηρ δὲ αὖ γνησιαίτερον ἅτε μήτηρ αὐτῷ προσκειμένη καὶ δάκρυσι τὰς παρειὰς καταρραίνουσα καὶ τῆς μητρικῆς θηλῆς καὶ τῶν ἐπ’αὐτῷ κόπων τῆς ἀνατροφῆς καὶ ὀδυνῶν τῆς καρδίας ἀναμιμνήσκουσα καὶ τὴν χηρείαν εἰς συμπάθειαν ἐπιλέγουσα, μὴ ἀποστῆναι αὐτῆς κατεδυσώπει, μὴ δὲ σφοδρότερον αὐτῇ τῆς χηρείας τὸ τῆς ἀτεκνίας ἐπισυνάψαι πῦρ – οὐ γὰρ ὅσιον –, ἐπιμεῖναι δὲ παρηγγύα τὴν αὐτῆς

56 The relevant part is not transmitted in the acephalous Anon. Vatop. 57 Boldface is used in the following for correspondences with the Chrysostomian text. 58 The authors of the VIoChrysG and the VIoChrysN believe that this person is Basil of Caesarea, whereas the Anon. Sa. and Symeon Metaphrastes correctly mention that this identification is false: see Antonopoulou, “Unedited Life, Introduction,” 17–18. 59 Despite the fact that there are no verbal quotations of what Anthousa reportedly said to her son in the VIoChrysN, Niketas had knowledge of the Chrysostomian text because he explicitly refers to this dialogue in VIoChrysN 5.55.

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τελευτὴν ἐγγίζουσαν ὅσον οὔπω, καὶ τὰ ὅσια τῇ γεννησαμένῃ κατὰ νόμον Θεοῦ ἀπονείμαντα, οὕτω χωρεῖν ὅπῃ ἂν τῷ Θεῷ φίλον καὶ αὐτῷ θελητὸν ἦν. Anon. Sa. 299.31–34 (Monac. gr. 108, fol. 12v) Ἡ μήτηρ δὲ ἅτε μήτηρ γνησιαίτερον αὐτῷ προσκειμένη, ὡς ᾔσθετο ὑπαναχωρῆσαι αὐτὸν βουλόμενον ἐπιλαβομένη τῆς αὐτοῦ χειρὸς ἐν τῷ ἑαυτῆς κοιτῶνι τοῦτον εἰσήγαγε καὶ καθίσασα πλησίον τῆς εὐνῆς ἧς αὐτόν ὤδινε πηγὰς ἠφίει δακρύων καὶ τῶν δακρύων ἐλεεινότερα προσετίθει ῥήματα, τοιαῦτα πρὸς αὐτὸν ἀποδυρομένη “ἐγώ,” φησι, “παιδίον τῆς ἀρετῆς τοῦ πατρὸς τοῦ σοῦ οὐκ ἀφείθην ἀπολαῦσαι ἐπὶ πολύ.” VIoChrysΜ 1056B-C Ἡ δὲ μήτηρ οἷα μήτηρ γνησιώτερον αὐτῷ προσελθοῦσα καὶ ὠδίνων ἅμα καὶ θηλῆς ὑπομνήσασα καὶ τὰ ἐκ τῆς χηρείας κακὰ καὶ πάντα ὅσα δυνατὸν ἦν υἱὸν ἑλκῦσαι τῇ μητρὶ πρὸς συμπάθειαν, ἀπεῖργε τοῦ προκειμένου· μᾶλλον δὲ αὐτῷ ἐκείνῳ λέγοντι περὶ τούτου παραχωρήσω τοῦ διηγήματος. Μανίαν γὰρ ἂν ἀληθῶς, οὐ τόλμαν ᾐτιώμην δικαίως, εἰ, ἐν οἷς τὰ ἐκείνου δι’ἐκείνου λέγειν παρόν, αὐτὸς ταῦτα καταλιπὼν παρ’ἐμαυτοῦ τὴν διήγησιν ἐποιούμην. Φησὶ γὰρ οὕτως ἐν τοῖς περὶ ἱερωσύνης αὐτός, τὸν φίλον εἰσενεγκὼν ἀπάξειν ἐπὶ τὸ σπουδαζόμενον μέλλοντα, εἶτα τὴν μητέρα μαθοῦσαν καὶ τοῦτο διακωλύσασαν· ἔχει δὲ οὕτως· Ἐπειδὴ γὰρ ᾔσθετο ταῦτα βουλευόμενον, … τῷ Θεῷ τοῦτο δοκοῦν· (= Io. Chrys., De sacerd., see above). From the introductory words, it is obvious that there is a relationship between the VIoChrysN, the Anon. Sa., and the VIoChrysM, but as the passage proceeds, the Anon. Sa. is not, as usual, based on the VIoChrysN. Instead, the Anonymus develops the VIoChrysG and, additionally, he turns to John Chrysostom’s text. Niketas, on the contrary, refrains from inserting parts of the Chrysostomian dialogue and provides a summary, in which breastfeeding is mentioned amongst several of Anthousa’s deeds (VIoChrysN τῆς μητρικῆς θηλῆς … ἀναμιμνήσκουσα). For some reason, this is omitted in the Anon. Sa., but survives in the VIoChrysM (θηλῆς ὑπομνήσασα), which, once again, hints at the existence of a missing link. Reading on in the Metaphrastic life, we come across some remarkable sentences: before inserting the relevant passage of John Chrysostom’s dialogue, the author of the Metaphrastic redaction addresses his audience with a comment that is constructed from a first-person perspective (… παραχωρήσω τοῦ διηγήματος; παρ’ἐμαυτοῦ τὴν διήγησιν ἐποιούμην). He states that he is returning to Chrysostom’s text to describe this episode since it would be a sign of madness and a daring act to narrate in his own words what has been narrated by Chrysostom. Such phrases, where the author comments on, and somehow reflects about his work, are rarely found in a Metaphrastic text, but they occur sometimes in prooimia and in transitional phrases.60 In this

60 On the narrator’s voice and on authority in Metaphrastic texts, see Høgel, Rewriting and Canonization, pp. 145–49.

Rewriting the Life of St John Chrysostom in Tenth-Century Byzantium

instance, authorial comment is combined with an explicit reference to the Chrysostomian source (VIoChrysM ἐν τοῖς περὶ ἱερωσύνης). Consequently, this passage is marked as a quotation throughout the manuscripts. The insertion of the “original” text for the specific situation, combined with the concrete reference, reveals a kind of educational intent in the Metaphrastic life that is not found in any of the other lives. In terms of vocabulary, the author of the VIoChrysG prefers ἐγέννησεν to ὤδινε, which he read in the Chrysostomian text, and which is subsequently kept in the Anon. Sa. and the VIoChrysM.61 A minor but notable detail is the form γνησιαίτερον, which is used in the VIoChrysN as well as in the Anon. Sa.; the Metaphrastic text reads the expected γνησιώτερον.62 This should most probably be interpreted as another classicism from which Symeon Metaphrastes refrains.

Example 4: The Visio Procli: John Chrysostom’s Dialogue with Proclus (relating to VIoChrysG c. 27) The visio Procli has already been introduced and partially discussed above (ex. 1). In its earliest appearance (VIoChrysG), it is generally characterised by much coming and going, questioning and answering, and wondering and self-doubt. These situations provide an opportunity for vivid dialogues.63 The tenth-century redactions mostly reduce these passages of direct discourse by replacing them with narrative; nevertheless, their authors do apply direct discourse selectively, such as at the climax of an episode. The following presents a dialogue that occurs the morning after three consecutive nights in which Proclus and a supplicant fail to approach John Chrysostom, who was apparently occupied by someone else. This conversation then immediately leads to the mystery’s revelation and to insight regarding its divine origin. VIoChrysG c. 27 (p. 146) Πρωΐας δὲ γενομένης ὑπεμνήσθη ὁ μακάριος Ἰωάννης τοῦ ἀνθρώ­που καὶ προσκαλεσάμενος τὸν Πρόκλον λέγει αὐτῷ· “Οὐκ ἦλθεν ἐνταῦθα ἐκεῖνος ὁ

61 This correspοndence is also provided in Hesychii Lexicon ω 56: ὠδίνησεν· ἐγέννησεν. 62 Cf. γνησιαίτατα in both witnesses of another text by Niketas: Laud. in Greg. Theol., 8.18, ed. J. J. Rizzo (Brussels, 1976), p. 33. For references to the similar forms ἰδιαίτερος and ἰδιαίτατος, see LSJ s.v. ἴδιος V. 63 From Zilliacus’ studies, we know that frequent use of direct discourse was a feature of earlyByzantine hagiographical texts. He stated that these passages in the early acts of martyrs had a tendency to be reduced or eliminated by the Metaphrastic process: see H. Zilliacus, “Zur stilistischen Umarbeitungstechnik des Symeon Metaphrastes,” Byzantinische Zeitschrift 38 (1938), 333–50, here 348–50. With regard to the Metaphrastic reworking of encomia by Niketas the Paphlagonian, however, I found contrary evidence, such as the additional use of direct discourse: see Peyr, “Zur Umarbeitungstechnik,” 154–55.

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δηλώ­­σας ἡμῖν ἐφ’ᾧ παραγενέσθαι πρὸς ἡμᾶς;” Ὁ δὲ ἀποκριθεὶς εἶπεν αὐτῷ· “Ναί, ἀληθῶς, πάτερ, ἰδοὺ σήμερον τρίτην νύκτα ἔχει ἐρχόμενος.” Ὁ δέ φησιν· “Καὶ δι’ἣν αἰτίαν οὐκ ἐμήνυ­σάς μοι αὐτόν;” Ἀποκριθεὶς δὲ ὁ Πρόκλος εἶπεν αὐτῷ· “Ὅτι ἄλλῳ τινὶ ἰδίαζες καὶ οὐ συνεῖδόν τι προπετῶς πρᾶξαι.” Ὁ δὲ “Τίνι;” φησίν, “Οὐδεὶς ἦλθεν πρός με ἐν ταῖς συνάξεσιν ταύταις.” VIoChrysN c. 25.71–79 Πρωΐας δὲ τὸν Πρόκλον προσκαλεσάμενος ὁ μέγας, εἰ ὁ ἄνθρωπος ἐκεῖνος παρεγένετο διεπυνθάνετο, “ὁ τῇ προτεραίᾳ πρὸς ἡμᾶς ἐλθεῖν διαμεμηνυκώς.” Ὁ δὲ τρίτον ἤδη πρὸς αὐτὸν ἀπεκρίνατο ἐληλυθέναι “κατὰ τὰς νύκτας ταύτας τὰς τρεῖς ἐφεξῆς, καὶ ἕως ὄρθρου προσκαρτερῶν, ἐπειδή τινος ἔνδον ὁμιλοῦντος μετὰ σοῦ, ὦ ἁγιώτατε, οὐκ ἦν ἐπεισελθεῖν ἡμᾶς καὶ παρενοχλῆσαι θεμιτόν, ἀπῆλθεν ὁ ἄνθρωπος ἀπογνούς.” Ἐθαύμασε δὲ ὁ ὅσιος καὶ “Τίς” ἔφη “ὁ εἰσελθὼν πρός με καὶ ὁμιλῶν ὃν τρόπον ἑωρα­κέναι λέγεις; Οὐδὲ γὰρ οἶδα ἐγώ.” Anon. Sa. 324.16–22 (Monac. gr. 108, fol. 35v) Πρωΐας δὲ τὸν Πρόκλον ὁ μέγας προσκαλεσάμενος, “Εἰπέ μοι,” ἔφη “ὁ συγκλητικὸς ἐκεῖνος ἧκεν ἐνταῦθα ὁ τῇ προ­τεραίᾳ ἐπιτραπεὶς παρ’ἡμῶν;” Ὁ δὲ “Τρίτον ἤδη, δέσποτα, παραγέγονεν” ἀπεκρίνατο “κατὰ τὰς ἄρτι προβάσας νύκτας τρεῖς ἐφεξῆς, ἀφ’οὗ τὴν τῆς προσελεύσεως ἐδέξατο προτροπήν, καὶ ἕως ὄρθρου καθεκάστην προσκαρτερῶν. ἐπειδή τινος ἔνδον συνομιλοῦντός σοι οὐκ εἰκὸς ἦν ἡμῖν ἐπεισελθοῦσι παρενοχλεῖν, ἀπῆλθεν ὁ ἄνθρωπος ἀπογνούς.” Τούτοις ὁ μέγας καταπλαγεὶς καὶ ἔνθους ὥσπερ ἐπὶ τοῖς εἰρημένοις γενόμενος, ἀνεσκόπει καὶ γάρ πως αὐτῷ ἡ ψυχὴ τὸ χρηματιζόμενον, καὶ “Τίς” ἔφη τῷ Πρόκλῳ “ὁ πρός με εἰσιὼν καὶ πρὸς τὸ οὖς ὁμιλῶν;” Anon. Vatop. 18–20 (p. 333) Ὁ μέγας δὲ τὸν Πρόκλον καλέσας ἐπύθετο περὶ τὸν ἄνθρωπον εἰ παρεγένετο. “Ὁ δὲ τρίτον” ἔφη “ἤδη παρεγένετο, δέσποτα, ἀλλ’ἰδιάζοντί σοι καὶ ἑτέρῳ τὸ οὖς ὑπέχοντι, ὁμιλοῦντι καθ’ἡσυχίαν, οὐκ ἦν ἡμῖν ἐπεισελθεῖν καὶ παρενοχλῆσαι θεμιτόν,” καὶ “Τίς” εἶπεν ὁ μέγας “ὁ εἰσελθὼν πρός με καὶ πρὸς τὸ οὖς καθομιλῶν; Οὐδὲ γὰρ οἶδα ἐγώ.” VIoChrysM 1105C-D Ἡμέρας δὲ ἤδη γενομένης μνήμη τὸν μακάριον ὑπελθοῦσα μετακαλέσασθαι τὸν Πρόκλον ποιεῖ καὶ “Ποῦ,” φησίν “ὁ πρὸ τῆσδε τῆς τρίτης ὡς ἡμᾶς ἐλθεῖν ἀξιώσας καὶ τοῦτο παρ’ἡμῶν λαβὼν κατὰ θέλησιν;” “Ὁ δὲ τρίτον” ἔφη “τῶν τριῶν ἐφεξῆς νυκτῶν παρεγένετο καὶ παρέτεινε προσμένων εἰς ὄρθρον. Ἀλλ’ἐπεὶ ἔτυχεν ἕτερον ὁμιλεῖν σοι, αὔθαδες ἐνομίσθη προσελθόντας ἐγκοπὴν δοῦναι τῷ λόγῳ.” Τὸν δὲ θαυμάσαντα καὶ “Τίς” φάναι “ὁ προσελθὼν νυκτός μοι καὶ ὁμιλήσας;” The introductory indication of time, πρωΐας δὲ γενομένης (VIoChrysG), is replaced in the Metaphrastic redaction by the equivalent expression, ἡμέρας

Rewriting the Life of St John Chrysostom in Tenth-Century Byzantium

δὲ ἤδη γενομένης.64 The VIoChrysN and the Anon. Sa. stand out with their elliptical use of πρωΐας. Reading on, we see that the VIoChrysG exclusively uses direct discourse for reporting this conversation whereas Symeon Metaphrastes characteristically makes use of interjections, φημί/φάναι.65 Niketas and the Anon. Vatop. place an indirect question at the beginning of the dialogue (VIoChrysN εἰ ὁ ἄνθρωπος ἐκεῖνος παρεγένετο διεπυνθάνετο; Anon. Vatop. ἐπύθετο περὶ τὸν ἄνθρωπον εἰ παρεγένετο). In addition, Anon. Sa. provides a very detailed scene of conversation. He provides some slight variation (ἔφη, ἀπεκρίνατο) and expands on the topic of becoming inspired (καὶ ἔνθους ὥσπερ ἐπὶ τοῖς εἰρημένοις γενόμενος, ἀνεσκόπει καὶ γάρ πως αὐτῷ ἡ ψυχὴ τὸ χρηματιζόμενον). As expected, the Anon. Vatop. presents the most concise version but basically follows the structure of the VIoChrysN. The correspondence between both the Anonymi regarding Paul whispering in Chrysostom’s ear (Anon. Sa. πρὸς τὸ οὖς ὁμιλῶν – Anon. Vatop. πρὸς τὸ οὖς καθομιλῶν) hints once again at the existence of a lost text. As can be seen, in this case, the aim is not to shorten but to re-shape the dialogue at the climax of the episode. As we proceed, we observe that ἰδού, used as a demonstrative particle in the VIoChrysG, was not kept in either of the tenth-century lives.66 The parts of the dialogue are linked in the VIoChrysG by the simple verba dicendi (λέγει, φησίν, εἶπεν and ἀποκριθεὶς) whereas the VIoChrysN, the Anon Sa., and the VIoChrysM personalise the episode by indicating the protagonist’s astonishment at what happened (VIoChrysN ἐθαύμασε – Anon. Sa. καταπλαγεὶς – VIoChrysM θαυμάσαντα). Apart from looking at direct and indirect discourse, in the VIoChrysG we encounter a phrase (ἄλλῳ τινὶ ἰδίαζες) that is solely retained in the Anon. Vatop. (ἰδιάζοντί σοι καὶ ἑτέρῳ). However, the other texts correspond by using ὁμιλεῖν with a preposition or (συν)ὁμιλεῖν with the dative (VIoChrysN ἐπειδή τινος ἔνδον ὁμιλοῦντος μετὰ σοῦ – Anon. Sa. ἐπειδή τινος ἔνδον συνομιλοῦντός σοι – VIoChrysΜ ἀλλ’ἐπεὶ ἔτυχεν ἕτερον ὁμιλεῖν σοι). Furthermore, the Metaphrastic preference for periphrastic expressions is attested once more (VIoChrysG ὑπεμνήσθη ὁ μακάριος – VIoChrysM μνήμη τὸν μακάριον ὑπελθοῦσα; VIoChrysG προσκαλεσάμενος τὸν Πρόκλον – VIoChrysM μετακαλέσασθαι τὸν Πρόκλον ποιεῖ; VIoChrysN, Anon. Vatop. παρενοχλῆσαι / Anon. Sa. παρενοχλεῖν – VIoChrysM ἐγκοπὴν δοῦναι τῷ λόγῳ).67

64 This is in line with Zilliacus’ observation that ὀψία, as well as πρωΐα, were regularly replaced in Metaphrastic redactions: see Zilliacus, “Zur stilistischen Umarbeitungstechnik,” 338–40. 65 For further examples, see Zilliacus, “Zur stilistischen Umarbeitungstechnik,” 349–50. 66 The same was noted above in example 2. 67 See above n. 48.

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The rather general wording that refers to the liturgical service (VIoChrysG ἐν ταῖς συνάξεσιν ταύταις) is specified by ὄρθρος (VIoChrysN / Anon. Sa. / VIoChrysM), which underlines the early time of day in which the episode took place. In the Anon. Sa.’s justification as to why the visitors did not dare disturb John Chrysostom, we observe again that he artifically elaborates the VIoChrysN: he uses a participial construction whereas the Anon. Vatop. adheres to Niketas’ more simple construction. Symeon Metaphrastes, on the other hand, takes greater liberty in rephrasing, as usual (VIoChrysN / Anon. Vatop. οὐκ ἦν ἐπεισελθεῖν ἡμᾶς καὶ παρενοχλῆσαι θεμιτόν – Anon. Sa. οὐκ εἰκὸς ἦν ἡμῖν ἐπεισελθοῦσι παρενοχλεῖν – VIoChrysM αὔθαδες ἐνομίσθη προσελθόντας). In the light of these selected passages, we have to ask what all these individual and, sometimes contradictory, observations ultimately teach us. First and foremost, they remind us that in characterising the Metaphrastic process, we need to speak about tendencies rather than rules. This is also true for the rewriting of Byzantine hagiographical texts undertaken independently of the Metaphrastic Menologion. Authors do not strictly adhere to certain standards or abide by fixed lexical correspondences when rewriting a text; we regularly encounter exceptions for what we are inclined to take as a rule. Second, the relatively high number of tenth-century texts describing John Chrysostom’s life raises the question about the purpose of several, nearly contemporaneous, redactions, be they for private or public (liturgical) use.68 The Metaphrastic Menologion was probably written with imperial support for a Constantinopolitan audience.69 Moreover, there is evidence that it was also in use in the Byzantine Empire’s periphery and it is transmitted in numerous manuscripts. By contrast, the number of manuscripts of the pre-Metaphrastic texts is generally small, and little is known about their dissemination. In the case of the lives of John Chrysostom only the manuscript tradition of the life by George of Alexandria would provide a basis for future studies on provenence. Third, there is the question of textual relationship. Obviously, not all of these texts have a direct relationship to each other; however, it is clear that each bears traces of some common knowledge of written sources while

68 For the suggestion of a monastic audience for Niketas’ life, see Antonopoulou, “Unedited Life, Introduction,” 12. 69 For references that might point to a monastic audience of the Metaphrastic Menologion, see Høgel, Rewriting and Canonization, pp. 145–46. The circumstances of the Metaphrastic Menologion’s composition have been much discussed. For an important and detailed observation regarding the workflow of the Metaphrastic reworking process, see the contribution by N. Wilson, “Symeon Metaphrastes at Work,” Nea Rhome 11 (2014), 105–07 (with references to all earlier contributions on this issue) and A. Berger, “Serienproduktion oder Autorenwettbewerb? Einige Bemerkungen zu byzantinischen hagiographischen Texten des zehnten Jahrhunderts,” in Byzantine Hagiography: Texts, Themes and Projects, Byzantios 13, eds, A. Rigo, M. Trizio and E. Despotakis (Turnhout, 2018), pp. 299–311, esp. pp. 299–303.

Rewriting the Life of St John Chrysostom in Tenth-Century Byzantium

representing different stylistic levels. In this context, the new availability of (the first part of) the life by Niketas the Paphlagonian, that has not been included in pre-Metaphrastic menologia, is of great value. Not only is it an edition of a hitherto inaccessible text, but it also sheds light on its descendents, including the lost Life X. For an evaluation of the stylistic levels represented by these texts, it is evident which one rates the lowest: the life by George of Alexandria. The assessment is more complicated for the tenth-century lives: The Metaphrastic text, however, demonstrates a lower level of style than the lives by Niketas the Paphlagonian and the Anonymus Savilii. The authors of these two texts apparently shared a similar stylistic aim, whereas the Metaphrastic redaction stands apart by taking more liberty in rephrasing its source texts. It is because of the variety of closely related, nearly contemporaneous, lives that the hagiographical tradition on John Chrysostom provides an exceptional basis for tracing the reworking process applied in the Metaphrastic Menologion.

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Martin Hinterberger

Metaphraseis as a Key for the Understanding of Different Levels in Byzantine Vocabulary

Byzantine classicizing literature is characterized by carefully chosen vocabulary that is strongly influenced by ancient Greek literature. It is this classicizing vocabulary that marks the most obvious difference between high-style literature and lower-style literature composed in the literary koine. Despite its undoubted significance, register related differences in vocabulary have hardly been investigated until now. This article presents the results of a research project aiming to systematically record high-low lexical correspondences with the help of metaphraseis and their model texts.

Registers in Byzantine Literature The language of Byzantine literature can be described as a highly diversified continuum, which ranges from an idiom close to the spoken language to an extremely classicizing form deeply influenced by – yet never identical to – Ancient Greek.1 For the major part of the Byzantine period a basic requirement for literary texts was their conformity with traditional, that is, Ancient Greek, morphology that had to be learnt, whereas an idiom that incorporated morphological features of the spoken language started being used for literary purposes as late as the twelfth century, and even then only to a limited extent. The Byzantines themselves always distinguished two levels of learned language, high and low, characterizing these two basic variants as hellenika and koine glossa respectively (that is, “classicizing Greek” and “common



1 For the linguistic situation in Byzantium, see generally G. Horrocks, Greek. A History of the Language and its Speakers, 2nd ed. (Chichester, 2010). On the issue of registers, see particularly I. Ševčenko, “Levels of Style in Byzantine Prose,” Jahrbuch der Österreichischen Byzantinistik 31.1 (1981), 289–312; E. Trapp, “Learned and Vernacular Literature in Byzantium: Dichotomy or Symbiosis?” Dumbarton Oaks Papers 47 (1993), 115–29; and N. Toufexis, “Diglossia and Register Variation in Medieval Greek,” Byzantine and Modern Greek Studies 32 (2008), 203–17. Metaphrasis in Byzantine Literature, ed. by Anne P. Alwis, Martin Hinterberger and Elisabeth Schiffer, Studies in Byzantine History and Civilization, 17 (Turnhout, 2021), pp. 109–126 FHG10.1484/M.SBHC-EB.5.123040

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language” or literary koine).2 In order to write and understand hellenika, the highest level of education was a prerequisite. Next to certain morphological and syntactical elements (entirely foreign to the spoken language and therefore avoided in the literary koine), vocabulary was the most conspicuous feature distinguishing hellenika from other forms of Byzantine Greek. Although the Byzantines are supposed to have been highly sensitive to the words used in a certain text and to their literary “weight” or “feel,” for the modern researcher it is often difficult to determine the stylistic quality of a certain word and consequently to assess the degree of “learnedness” or lack of learnedness of a text’s vocabulary. How essential a stylistic marker vocabulary is, becomes immediately evident when high-style and low-style versions of the same text are juxtaposed. Such pairs of high- and low-register versions are provided by metaphraseis and the original texts on which they rely.3 See, for instance, the following two parallel passages in Niketas Choniates’ History and its metaphrasis:4 Choniates, History 599.29–35, ed. van Dieten Τοῦ δέ γε Βαλδουίνου τῇ Θεσσαλονίκῃ ἐγγίσαντος, ἅπας ἐξερρύησαν ὁ λεὼς καὶ μετ’ εὐσήμων βοῶν σφᾶς τε αὐτοὺς καὶ τὴν πόλιν περιχαρῶς





2 For the meaning of hellenika, see, for example, the verb ἐξελληνίζω (“turn into literary, i.e. classicizing Greek”) in Niketas Stethatos, Life of Symeon the New Theologian, ed. S. Koutsas, 2nd ed. (Athens, 1994), ll. 25–27, pp. 48–50: ἐλείπετο δὲ αὐτῷ ἐξελληνισθῆναι τὴν γλῶτταν τῇ ἀναλήψει παιδείας τῆς θύραθεν καὶ λόγου εὐμοιρῆσαι ῥητορικοῦ, or ἑλληνίζω (“write in literary Greek”) in Anna Komnene, Alexias 1.1.2, ed. Reinsch and Kambylis (Berlin, 2001), ll. 11–12, p. 5: τὸ ἑλληνίζειν ἐς ἄκρον ἐσπουδακυῖα. For “the common language,” see, for example, Niketas Choniates, History 5.3.4, ed. van Dieten (Berlin, 1975), p. 134, ll. 85–86: ἄρκλας οἶδε ταύτας ἡ κοινὴ καὶ πάνδημος φράσις καλεῖν. On these terms, see also J. Koder, “Sprache als Identitätsmerkmal bei den Byzantinern. Auf -isti endende sprachbezogene Adverbien in den griechischen Quellen,” Anzeiger der philosophisch-historischen Klasse der Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften 147.2 (2012), 5–37, particularly pp. 13–16. 3 On the textual category “metaphrasis,” see, for example, the introduction to the present volume as well as M. Hinterberger, “Between Simplification and Elaboration: Byzantine Metaphraseis Compared,” in Textual Transmission in Byzantium: Between Textual Criticism and Quellenforschung, Lectio 2, eds, J. Signes Codoñer and I. Pérez Martín (Madrid, 2014), pp. 33–60. 4 I.-A. van Dieten, ed., Nicetae Choniatae Historia (Berlin, 1975). The critical edition of the metaphrasis of Choniates’ work by John Davis and Martin Hinterberger has almost been completed and will soon be published in the Byzantinisches Archiv series of De Gruyter. On Choniates and his text, see A. Simpson, “Before and After 1204: The Versions of Niketas Choniates’ Historia,” Dumbarton Oaks Papers 60 (2006), 189–222; A. Simpson, Niketas Choniates. A Historiographical Study (Oxford, 2013); and A. Simpson and S. Efthymiadis (eds), Niketas Choniates. A Historian and a Writer (Geneva, 2009). On the metaphrasis of Choniates’ History, see, generally, J. Davis, “The History Metaphrased: Changing Readership in the Fourteenth Century,” in Simpson and Efthymiadis, Niketas Choniates, pp. 145–63; J. Davis, “Anna Komnena and Niketas Choniates ‘Translated’: the Fourteenth-Century Byzantine Metaphrases,” in History as Literature. Fortieth Spring Symposium of Byzantine Studies, University of Birmingham, ed. R. Macrides, April 2007 (Farnham, 2010), pp. 55–70; and S. Efthymiadis, “Déclassiciser pour édifier? Remarques et réflexions à propos de la Métaphrase de l’Alexiade d’Anne Comnène,” Travaux et Mémoires 21.1 (2017 = Οὗ δῶρόν εἰμι τὰς γραφὰς βλέπων νόει: mélanges Jean-Claude Cheynet, eds B. Caseau, V. Prigent and A. Sopracasa), pp. 139–50.

U n de r s ta n d i n g D i ffe r e n t L e ve l s i n Byzant i ne Vo cab ul ary

ἐνδιδόασιν. ἱκέτευσαν μέντοι μήτ’ αὐτὸν Βαλδουῖνον ἐπιβῆναι τῆς πόλεως, μήτε μὴν εἴσω τὸ στράτευμα συγχωρῆσαι παρελθεῖν· δεδιέναι γὰρ μὴ τὰ ἐκείνου παριδὸν ἐντάλματα τὴν πόλιν σκυλεύσειεν, οἷα μηδ’ ὑφ’ ἕνα ταττόμενον ἡγεμόνα, ἀλλ’ ἐκ πολλῶν ἀγηγερμένον φυλαρχιῶν καὶ πλείστοις ὑποκείμενον ἄρχουσιν. ὁ Βαλδουῖνος τοίνυν τοῦτο μὲν ταῖς τῶν αἰτήσεων εὐλόγοις καθυπαχθείς, τοῦτο δὲ βάλλουσαν ἔχων μηδ’ ἀγαθὰ διδοῦσαν φαντάζεσθαι τὴν μαρκεσίου μετ’ ὀργῆς ὑποχώρησιν, ἐν πολλοῖς δὲ καὶ κεντοῦντα τὴν ἀκοὴν τὰ ὑπ’ ἐκείνου γινόμενα, τοῖς Θεσσαλονικεῦσι προσέσχε καὶ γράμμα σφίσιν ἐρυθρόγραφον ἐνεχείρισε. Metaphrasis 21.7.5, ed. Davis and Hinterberger Τοῦ δέ γε Βαλδουίνου τῆ Θεσσαλονίκη πλησιάσαντος, ὅλος ἐξῆλθεν ὁ λαὸς εἰς τὴν αὐτοῦ ὑπαντήν, καὶ μετὰ φωνῶν, εὐφημιῶν καὶ ἐπαινετηρίων ἑαυτούς τε καὶ τὴν πόλιν περιχαρῶς δεδώκασι. παρεκάλεσαν δὲ μήτε τὸν Βαλδουῖνον ἐντὸς τῆς πόλεως εἰσελθεῖν, μήτε μὴν τὸν στρατὸν, διὰ τὸ εἶναι αὐτοὺς συνάγματα ἐκ διαφόρων γενεῶν· ἐφοβοῦντο γὰρ μήποτε τὰ ἐκείνου παραβλέψοντες προστάγματα τὴν πόλιν κουρσεύσωσιν. ὁ Βαλδουῖνος τοίνυν τὸ μὲν διὰ τὴν εὔλογον αὐτῶν ζήτησιν, τὸ δὲ καὶ διὰ τὴν τοῦ μαρκεσίου μετ᾿ ὀργῆς ὑποστροφὴν, καὶ ὅτι ἤκουεν ὅσα ἐκεῖνος ἐποίει, τοῖς Θεσσαλονικεῦσιν ὑπήκουσε, καὶ χρυσόβουλλον γράμμα τούτοις ἐποίησεν. In these passages, the following word correspondences (in bold) can be clearly established (in a normalized form, like entries in a dictionary): verbs ἐγγίζω – πλησιάζω, ἐκρέω – ἐξέρχομαι, ἐνδίδωμι – δίδωμι, ἱκετεύω – παρακαλέω, παρέρχομαι – εἰσέρχομαι, δέδια – φοβέομαι, παροράω – παραβλέπω, σκυλεύω – κουρσεύω, προσέχω – ὑπακούω nouns λεώς – λαός, βοή – φωνή, στράτευμα – στρατός, ἔνταλμα – πρόσταγμα, αἴτησις – ζήτησις, ὑποχώρησις – ὑποστροφή adjectives ἅπας – ὅλος, ἐρυθρόγραφος – χρυσόβουλλος pronouns σφᾶς – ἑαυτούς, σφίσιν – τούτοις conjunctions μή – μήποτε, particles μέντοι – δέ, οἷα – διὰ τό, τοῦτο μέν … τοῦτο δέ – τὸ μέν … τὸ δέ adverbs εἴσω – ἐντός We may reasonably presume that the terms that are replaced in the metaphrasis are characteristic of Choniates’ high style, and that the words replacing them are characteristic of the stylistically lower metaphrasis. As has become clear, the juxtaposition of metaphraseis and their original texts thus constitutes an ideal tool for establishing a concordance between classicizing and literary

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koine vocabulary and consequently for the assessment of the dividing line between classicizing texts and those composed in literary koine.

Metaphrasis The substitution of certain lexical items is a substantial part of the metaphrastic process. Henrik Zilliacus has already demonstrated that the replacement of certain categories of words (particularly Latin loanwords) is an essential part of the transformation that texts incorporated into Symeon Metaphrastes’ Menologion underwent.5 Subsequent studies by Elisabeth Schiffer and Laura Franco have investigated further details of the metaphrastic process, which invariably indicate a kind of purification and stylistic elevation of the vocabulary in the direction of a classicizing linguistic ideal.6 On the other hand, Herbert Hunger and Ihor Ševčenko, as well as John Davis, in their studies on the simplifying metaphraseis of the fourteenth century, showed that classicizing vocabulary was replaced by simpler, partly vernacular, vocabulary.7 These investigations into the metaphraseis of Anna Komnene’s Alexias, Niketas Choniates’ History, and Nikephoros Blemmydes’ Basilikos Andrias already contain certain lists of lexical correspondences.8 In his most influential article, “Levels of Style in Byzantine Prose,” Ihor Ševčenko pointed out that “by examining what words were consistently used [in the

5 H. Zilliacus, “Das lateinische Lehnwort in der griechischen Hagiographie. Ein Beitrag zur Geschichte der klassizistischen Bestrebungen im X. Jahrhundert,” Byzantinische Zeitschrift 37 (1937), 302–44 and H. Zilliacus, “Zur stilistischen Umarbeitungstechnik des Symeon Metaphrastes,” Byzantinische Zeitschrift 38 (1938), 333–50. 6 E. Schiffer, Untersuchungen zum Sprachniveau metaphrastischer Texte und ihrer Vorlagen (unpublished doctoral thesis, University of Vienna, 1999), particularly pp. 94–154 and L. Franco, A Study of the Metaphrastic Process: The Case of the Unpublished Passio of St James the Persian (BHG 773), Passio of Plato (BHG 1551–552), and Vita of St Hilarion (BHG 755) by Symeon Metaphrastes (unpublished doctoral thesis, University of London, Royal Holloway, 2009), particularly pp. 205–11, 217–30 and 241–55. 7 H. Hunger, Anonyme Metaphrase zu Anna Komnene, Alexias XI–XIII. Ein Beitrag zur Erschließung der byzantinischen Umgangssprache, Wiener Byzantinistische Studien 15 (Vienna, 1981); H. Hunger and I. Ševčenko, Des Nikephoros Blemmydes Βασιλικὸς Ἀνδριάς und dessen Metaphrase von Georgios Galesiotes und Georgios Oinaiotes. Ein weiterer Beitrag zum Verständnis der byzantinischen Schrift-Koine, Wiener Byzantinistische Studien 18 (Vienna, 1988); and J. Davis, Η Μετάφραση της Χρονικής Διηγήσεως του Νικήτα Χωνιάτη (unpublished doctoral thesis, University of Ioannina, 2004), 2 vols. 8 Hunger, Anonyme Metaphrase, pp. 196–231 (“Liste der ausgetauschten Wörter, Alexias – Metaphrasis”) and pp. 251–54 (“Umgangssprachliches im Wortschatz”); Hunger and Ševčenko, Des Nikephoros Blemmydes Βασιλικὸς Ἀνδριάς, pp. 255–304 (“Liste der ausgetauschten Wörter” Blemmydes – Metaphrasis and Metaphrasis – Blemmydes); and Davis, Η Μετάφραση, pp. 165–76 (a collection of decidedly “vernacular words” in the metaphrasis and their learned correspondences). See also the list of “concordances lexicales” (Epitome – original) in A. Failler, ed., La version brève des Relations Historiques de Georges Pachymérès, vol. 3: Index. Concordances lexicales, Lexique Grècque et Citations (Paris,

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metaphraseis] to replace expressions of the high-style models” “we should be able to reconstruct elements of the standard vocabulary of Byzantine ‘usual’ prose.”9

The Vocabulary of Classicizing Historiography and its Metaphraseis In 2014, with the support of the A. G. Leventis Foundation, a research project aiming at the investigation of the vocabulary of usual prose and its relation to classicizing vocabulary was initiated at the University of Cyprus.10 The goal of this project was twofold: first, to systematically record corresponding words from stylistically higher and lower versions of a text and thus provide a general stylistic evaluation of the vocabulary of Byzantine texts (including those texts for which no metaphraseis exist); and second, to create a type of high literary Greek – koine Greek dictionary. At the first stage of the project (which ended in April 2016), we focused on the juxtaposition of Niketas Choniates’ Chronike Diegesis (= Chon) and its anonymous metaphrasis (= MChon), two very long texts (about 600 and 400 pages respectively in the modern editions). In contrast to previous studies where special emphasis was given to decidedly vernacular words, all words that acted as substitutes for others or that were substituted by others were recorded (for example, all the words extracted from the above juxtaposition such as ἐγγίζω – πλησιάζω). In this way, light would be shed on the metaphrastic technique from the point of view of both the simplified text and the classicizing text (Choniates’ History). Thus, a clear picture would emerge of which words had to be replaced in order to make Choniates’ text more accessible, but also which words were used to achieve this aim. For this goal, a database was developed in which all lexical correspondences between Chon and the MChon could be recorded. Although lexical correspondences have been established for the entire text, so far approximately 4000 words with 8500 occurrences) have been processed, that is, fed into the database. The database contains all words with their respective occurrences. 2004), pp. 31–113. The epitome of Pachymeres’ History is an only slightly metaphrasing abbreviation of the original, and therefore the list of corresponding terms is comparatively short. 9 Ševčenko, “Levels of Style in Byzantine Prose,” particularly p. 310: “If, however, we view the work of the authors of the paraphrases as an attempt to bring the high style down to a norm, we should be able to reconstruct elements of the standard vocabulary of the Byzantine ‘usual’ prose by examining what words were consistently used to replace expressions of the high-style models.” 10 Under the title, “The Vocabulary of Byzantine Classicizing and Literary Koine Texts: A Database of Correspondences” (VocByz) and with the following participants: M. Hinterberger (principal investigator), Ch. Modestou (research assistant), T. Taylor (IT-specialist), A. Kyritsi (project management) and J. Davis (advisor).

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Each has been allotted one of four stylistic qualities (high, low, both, or ambiguous) based on the occurrences collected so far (more details on this below). Besides this collection of terms and their stylistic quality, the database allows the extraction of two comprehensive lists of corresponding terms: the first displays the original high-level word and its one or more corresponding literary koine words (e.g. ἐγγίζω – πλησιάζω); the second, conversely, displays the terms found in MChon and their one or more corresponding high-level words (e.g. πλησιάζω – ἐγγίζω). These lists so far comprise 320 and 280 pages respectively. After the completion of the second stage of the project, these two lists of correspondences will be available in the form of searchable pdf files from the website of the Interdepartmental Postgraduate Program in Byzantine Studies and the Latin East of the University of Cyprus.11 One principal goal of this collection of correspondences has been to provide information about the stylistic character of a certain word. In the database, each word is given one of the following stylistic characteristics: high, low, both, or ambiguous, based on the instances of a specific word/term in texts, which, in turn, are characterized as either high or low. For example, the metaphrasis of Choniates’ History is certainly a downgraded version of the original text whereas the texts reworked by Symeon Metaphrastes are generally believed to constitute an up-grade. The first time a lexical item (word) appears, it is categorized according to the stylistic quality of the text in which it is used (for example, ἐγγίζω in the passage above is qualified as high since it appears in Chon). Only thereafter this qualifier may be modified into “both” or “ambiguous.” This stylistic qualification of terms has proved more problematic than expected. During the progress of the work, for methodological reasons, we decided that the qualifications allotted to a certain term should be based exclusively on the context of the processed material (and not also on our biased experience or arbitrary judgement). Since the material processed in the database is strictly limited to lexical correspondences, only corresponding (but not identical) parts of the texts are taken into consideration (at least at this stage of the project). Two categories of vocabulary have not been taken into consideration so far, namely those passages from Chon that have been used in MChon without any change, as well as those passages in Chon or in the MChon that do not have corresponding passages (omissions or additions in MChon). 11 http://www.ucy.ac.cy/byz/el/news-and-announcements. Currently, a few samples are available at this address. The project officially expired at the end of November 2018. We expect that these lists will contain about half of all lexical correspondences that can be established between Choniates’ History and its metaphrasis. Depending on future funding, the remainder will be processed at a later stage. In any case, this material, though not exhaustive, provides a representative picture of the reworking methods of the metaphrast concerning vocabulary.

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Accordingly, the four stylistic qualifiers (“high,” “low,” etc.) refer exclusively to the appearance of the terms in the framework of the material incorporated in the database. Thus, ὀφθαλμός, although used both in Chon and MChon, appears as a stylistically “low” term, because within pairs of correspondences it always appears in MChon, that is, the “low” text. The same is true, for example, for terms such as βασιλεία, μετά, παλάτιον or πάλιν. For practical and methodological reasons, we ignore the fact that παλάτιον is rarely, and βασιλεία, μετά or πάλιν are also quite frequently used in Choniates’ text (that is, they are “low” terms within an overall “high” text). Accompanying notes, of course, explain this, which constitutes an important characteristic of MChon, namely that certain highly classicizing terms in Chon are replaced with koine terms not alien to Choniates’ text. This means that in a second step we have to examine if terms qualified as low, also appear in Chon as well. In this respect, the qualification “high” is much less problematic than the qualifier “low,” since Choniates uses a considerable number of terms that appear only in his History, but not in the metaphrasis. The qualifier “both” is allotted only to those words that correspond with other items both from the “high”- and the “low”-level text. For example, βούλομαι, γίνομαι, ἐπακολουθέω, θεάομαι, παραπέμπω or δύναμις, ὅπλον, ὀργή, οὗτος are defined as “both,” which, however, does not mean that they are all used in exactly the same way when used as a high and a low term respectively. βούλομαι, for instance, is, generally speaking, a stylistically high term meaning “to wish” (whereas θέλω is primarily low level, with the same meaning). However, in the combination/locution (καὶ) μὴ βουλόμενος “(even) against his will”/“not willing”/“reluctantly,” βούλομαι is used as a substitute in MChon in order to render clearly high-style terms such as ἀκούσιος or οὐχ ἑκών (“unwilling”). Finally, the label “ambiguous” is reserved for those terms in MChon that are rendered as a combination of the same term plus another term, as though the metaphrast was not quite sure if the term in question was totally intelligible: for example, θρασύτητα > ἀλαζονείαν καὶ θρασύητηα, μόλις > μόλις καὶ μετὰ βίας, τυραννεῖον > τυραννεῖον καὶ κάθισμα and ὑπεκρίνετο > ἐμιμεῖτο καὶ ὑπεκρίνετο.12 Interestingly, one word can occasionally occur both as high and low term, but in each case with different semantics. For example, παρακαλέω in the sense of “to comfort/console” is high style, whereas παρακαλέω, “to ask for,” is low style. κυβέρνησις means “government” in high style, but “care/ accommodation” in the low text. These terms are also labelled as “ambiguous.” Moreover, if we take into consideration the entirety of our two texts, and not only the corresponding parts, a different kind of distribution among the terms used in them can also be observed, namely a) decidedly classicizing terms (identical with “high”), b) decidedly non-classicizing terms (per definition always “low”), and c) stylistically neutral terms (not necessarily always labelled as “both” in the database). 12 On this phenomenon, see also Davis, Η Μετάφραση, pp. 89–90.

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In their majority, decidedly classicizing terms, which appear only in Choniates’ text, are either of Homeric or generally poetic origin, or are otherwise rare terms in ancient Greek literature, for example, ἀγχίνους, ἄλοχος, ἄνασσα, ἀδελφιδοῦς, δόρυ, θυγατρόπαις, κασίγνητος, μόρος, ὁμαίμων, ὁμευνέτις, ὁμηρεύω, ὁμόγνιος, παλίμπους, παλίσσυτος, πελεκυφόρος, σκίμπους, σκυλεύω, φοινικοβαφής and χόλος. Other instances are neologisms coined by Choniates (cf. LBG), such as ἀγκοίνησις, ἀχλαδηφορέω, ἐκξιφισμός, κατευνάστρια, κοντοφορέω, κυλινδροφύλαξ, ὀξυβαφής, πεδιλορράφος, πρωτούργησις, σατράπευσις and τυφομανία. Decidedly non-classicizing terms, appearing exclusively in MChon, but never in Chon (they belong to the simple written koine or the vernacular) are, for example, ἀδιάφορος (“morally corrupted, evil”), ἄλογον (“horse”), βεστιάριον, βουνός, βυζάστρια, γλυκοσύντυχος, δαιμονιάριος, εὔκαιρος (“empty”), καβαλλάρης, κάτεργον, κοντάριον, κουρσεύω, κωλοράβδια, μούντζα, ὄψις (“hostage”), ῥογεύω, ῥοῦχον, σαγίτα, σανδάλιν, σκοτίζω, σκουτάριον, τζαγγάρης, τζακίζω, τζευδίζω, τζουκαλολάγινα, φοσσάτον and χαώνω (see Kriaras and LBG on these words). Note that MChon contains quite a few clearly “vernacular” words (such as καβαλλάρης, κωλοράβδια or τζακίζω), but cannot be characterized as a vernacular text in its entirety.13 The words that appear in both texts (comprising all terms labelled as “both” but also many more), and whose stylistic “weight” therefore cannot be determined with certainty, seem to constitute the core vocabulary of the literary koine, such as ἀγανακτέω, ἀδελφός, ἀκούω, ἀλαζονεία, ἀλαζών, ἀλλά, ἄλλος, ἀναλαμβάνω, ἀνεψιός, ἀνήρ, ἀπαίρω, βασιλεύς, βλέπω, βούλομαι, γένος, δέχομαι, διαθροέω, διανοέομαι, θάνατος, θυγάτηρ, θυμός, ἵππος, κρατέω, ὅθεν, ὀργή, ταράττω, ὑποκύπτω, φυγή, χρόνος, χώρα and ψυχή. At present, the attempt to categorize the stylistic quality of single words is difficult. For example, Choniates’ vocabulary comprises both classicizing and common words, and approximately one third of the History’s text has been incorporated into the metaphrasis without modifications. See, for instance, the same passage of Choniates’ History that we used above (35 words are used in both texts: in bold, those parts that are entirely identical in the metaphrasis, that is, 33 words out of 105; in italics, those two words that are the same but have undergone syntactical change). Τοῦ δέ γε Βαλδουίνου τῇ Θεσσαλονίκῃ ἐγγίσαντος, ἅπας ἐξερρύησαν ὁ λεὼς καὶ μετ’ εὐσήμων βοῶν σφᾶς τε αὐτοὺς καὶ τὴν πόλιν περιχαρῶς ἐνδιδόασιν. ἱκέτευσαν μέντοι μήτ’ αὐτὸν Βαλδουῖνον ἐπιβῆναι τῆς πόλεως, μήτε μὴν εἴσω τὸ στράτευμα συγχωρῆσαι παρελθεῖν· δεδιέναι γὰρ μὴ τὰ ἐκείνου

13 See already I.-L. van Dieten, “Bemerkungen zur Sprache der sogenannten vulgärgriechischen Niketasparaphrase,” Byzantinische Forschungen 6 (1979), 37–77 and M. Hinterberger, “Bemerkungen zur Sprache der Choniates-Metaphrase,” in … ὡς ἀθύρματα παῖδας: Eine Festschrift für Hans Eideneier, ed. U. Moennig (Berlin, 2016), pp. 135–50. Online edition: https://bibliothek.edition-romiosini.de

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παριδὸν ἐντάλματα τὴν πόλιν σκυλεύσειεν, οἷα μηδ’ ὑφ’ ἕνα ταττόμενον ἡγεμόνα, ἀλλ’ ἐκ πολλῶν ἀγηγερμένον φυλαρχιῶν καὶ πλείστοις ὑποκείμενον ἄρχουσιν. ὁ Βαλδουῖνος τοίνυν τοῦτο μὲν ταῖς τῶν αἰτήσεων εὐλόγοις καθυπαχθείς, τοῦτο δὲ βάλλουσαν ἔχων μηδ’ ἀγαθὰ διδοῦσαν φαντάζεσθαι τὴν μαρκεσίου μετ’ ὀργῆς ὑποχώρησιν, ἐν πολλοῖς δὲ καὶ κεντοῦντα τὴν ἀκοὴν τὰ ὑπ’ ἐκείνου γινόμενα, τοῖς Θεσσαλονικεῦσι προσέσχε καὶ γράμμα σφίσιν ἐρυθρόγραφον ἐνεχείρισε. It is important to emphasize that already at first sight it becomes clear that one third of Choniates’ History appears to have been intelligible and acceptable also in a simpler linguistic register. It also becomes clear that the categorisation of a specific text as globally “high style,” “classicizing” or “vernacular,” apart from the difficulties in defining these terms clearly, is possible only with certain reservations, or is even futile.14

Trends in Correspondences and Aspects of the Metaphrastic Technique The juxtaposition of corresponding terms reveals certain characteristic features of the metaphrastic process that Chon underwent on its way to MChon.15 These trends, however, are indeed trends. They do not constitute absolute rules. For most, or all, of the following, observations, exceptions, or counterexamples can be found. General observations:16 1.1. A high degree of consistency is one major observation based on the substantial collection of material: recurring terms in Chon are rendered with the same term in MChon or, in other words, many pairs of corresponding terms appear repeatedly, for example (Chon – MChon) ἀεί – ἀείποτε, ἁλίσκομαι – κρατέομαι, αὖθις – πάλιν, ἄφιξις – ἔλευσις, διαδράσκω – φεύγω, δόρυ – κοντάριον, ἐκ – ἀπό, ἕως – ἀνατολή, κασίγνητος – ἀδελφός, Λατίνος – Φράγγος, νεώς – ναός, ξίφος – σπάθη, πολίχνιον – καστέλλιον, πρέσβις – ἀποκρισιάριος and συλλαμβάνω – κρατέω. This consistent replacement of high-style terms with always the same lowstyle terms indicates that a coherent linguistic system underlies the reworking

14 M. Hinterberger, “How Should We Define Vernacular Literature?” (paper delivered at the conference “Unlocking the Potential of Texts: Interdisciplinary Perspectives on Medieval Greek,” Cambridge, 18–19 July 2006). Available at http://ucy.academia.edu/ MartinHinterberger. 15 These results confirm observations already made by Davis, Η Μετάφραση, pp. 62–109, providing some further details. 16 See also Davis, Η Μετάφραση, pp. 46–109 (“Τα χαρακτηριστικά της Μετάφρασης”). Cf. Hunger, Anonyme Metaphrase, pp. 207–53 (“Grundsätzliche Änderungen”).

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of Chon and that the replacing terms are elements of the standard vocabulary of Byzantine “usual” prose, as Ševčenko had hypothesized.17 Without being able to present exact numbers, we can say that there is considerable overlap between these standard correspondences and those established by Hunger, and Hunger and Ševčenko, respectively between the other two fourteenth-century metaphraseis and their models.18 1.2. Frequently the same word in MChon renders several different terms in Chon, particularly verbs such as ἀφανίζω, ἀφίημι, βοηθέω, κρατέω and τολμάω that correspond with a number of different terms in Chon. Characteristically for the History’s narrative, the “low”-level τυφλόω (“to blind”) covers a wide range of terms and circumlocutions in Chon: ἀποξενόω τοῦ φωτός, ἐκκόπτω τὰς κόρας, λυμαίνομαι εἰς τὸ φῶς and στερέω ὀμμάτων/φωτός. Similarly, ἀποθνῄσκω is the corresponding term in MChon not only of ἀποβιόω or ἐκθνῄσκω, but also of a range of locutions in Chon, meaning “to die,” such as καταστρέφω/μεταλλάσσω τὸν βίον, τὸ λαχὸν μέρος τῆς ζωῆς ἐκτοξεύω, παρακατατίθεμαι μόρῳ (φυσικῷ) τὴν ψυχήν and ἐναφίημι τοῖς δεσμοῖς τὴν ψυχήν (“die in prison”). Another example is provided by φονεύω, “to kill,” which corresponds with ἀναιρέω, ἀποκτείνω, διαφθείρω, κατακαίνω, κτείνω and φονάω (and also a number of circumlocutions). This also means that the elaborate lexical variation so characteristic of Chon corresponds with frequently recurring terms in MChon – the plethora of roughly synonymous terms in Chon, though rather arcane for a broader public, must have been a principal asset of Choniates’ literary appeal, but also a major obstacle to comprehension and was therefore removed in MChon. Entertaining variety was, we might say, sacrificed for the sake of clarity in MChon. 1.3. A few terms, particularly verbs and, to a lesser degree, nouns, are rendered through a combination of two terms in MChon, for example, καταμωκάομαι through ὀνειδίζω καὶ ἐπιπλήττω, ἁμιλλάομαι through συνερίζω/μάχομαι καὶ ἀγωνίζομαι or διαδορατίζω through κρούω καὶ δορατίζω.19 2. Observations concerning the form and semantics of corresponding pairs: 2.1. Compound terms of Chon (often) correspond with simple terms of the same root in MChon, for example, ἐκφεύγω – φεύγω, ἐπεύχομαι – εὔχομαι, παρυψόω – ὑψόω and μεταστρέφω – στρέφω. 2.2. Certain categories of words, such as -μι verbs or nouns following the Attic declension pattern, disappear entirely in MChon. This is particularly the case

17 See above, note 9. 18 See above, note 8, and Davis, Η Μετάφραση, pp. 124–25. 19 On this phenomenon, see Davis, Η Μετάφραση, pp. 87–89 and Hunger and Ševčenko, Des Nikephoros Blemmydes Βασιλικὸς Ἀνδριάς, pp. 247–48 (“binomic pleonasms”).

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with all the compound verbs based on εἶμι “to go,” which are consistently replaced with forms of ἔρχομαι (“to come”). In the same vein, νεώς and λεώς are always rendered as ναός and λαός. These phenomena are similar to the replacement of morphological categories such as pluperfect or optative forms, which, again, almost entirely vanish in MChon (see below). 2.3.1 In MChon the “usual” Byzantine word of everyday use is employed. This can be clearly seen with words pertaining to “officialdom” or the imperial sphere such as βασιλεύς, δέσποινα, παλάτι(ο)ν instead of ἄναξ/αὐτοκράτωρ/ κρατῶν, ἄνασσα/βασιλίς and ἀνάκτορα/ἀρχεῖα. Ethnonyms and geographical terms appear in their contemporary, “normal” form: Λατίνος > Φράγγος, Πέρσης > Τούρκος, Οὖννος > Οὖγγρος, Παίων > Οὖγγρος, Σκύθης > Κόμανος, Ἀγχίαλος > Ἀχελώς, Μαίανδρος > Μέντρος, Ὀρεστιάς > Ἀδριανούπολις, and instead of the classicizing Βυζάντιον, MChon uses Κωνσταντινούπολις, or simply, Πόλις. 2.3.2 The metaphrast generally is more “specific” where Choniates remains metaphorical or circumlocutory. Thus, Choniates’ πελεκυφόροι, “axe-bearers,” at first sight, an almost mysterious term, corresponds with Βάραγγοι “Varangoi,” the emperor’s elite guard, recruited from Scandinavian (and Anglo-Saxon) mercenaries, well known from Byzantine history. ὁ Μέγας Νεώς, “The Great Church,” is Choniates’ standard designation for Constantinople’s biggest and most important church, more usually referred to as Ἁγία Σοφία, Hagia Sophia, as in the metaphrasis. 2.3.3 Collective concepts expressed in Choniates through the article plus the neuter form of the adjective are again rendered more explicitly in the MChon. For example, τὸ ἀντίπαλον, τὸ πολέμιον, and τὸ φίλιον appear as οἱ ἐχθροί, οἱ πολέμιοι, and οἱ φίλοι in MChon. The expression of abstract concepts in this form is less frequent, for example, τὸ εὔδαιμον as ἡ ἐπιτυχία, τὸ πάμφορον as ὁ πλουτισμός, or τὸ πρόθυμον as ἡ προθυμία. 3. As already stated, vocabulary is an important aspect of stylistic and linguistic register, though not the only one. Other such aspects include, of course, morphological and syntactical features, which have not been the object of focus in this particular project, but may be the target of more systematic investigation in the future.20 Some of these morphosyntactical features are the following: nominal contracted forms (classicizing) are replaced with easily recognizable, uncontracted forms (“common language”), for example, πλείους > πλείονες. Classicizing pluperfects are regularly replaced by aorist

20 In the database, morphological categories such as “dative,” “pluperfect” or “future infinitive” are recorded as if they were lexical terms.

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forms. The same is also true for perfect forms.21 The future participle, a rare feature even in Choniates, is rendered with the aorist infinitive, a secondary clause or, particularly interesting, the aorist participle.22 The same is true for the future infinitive, which is usually rendered with the aorist infinitive. Dative forms correspond to a variety of periphrastic expressions, mostly μετά or διά + genitive.23 Interestingly the article, which frequently is omitted in Chon – a token of the highly classicizing language – is restored in MChon (for example, βασιλεὺς δὲ > ὁ δὲ βασιλεὺς and μετὰ Περσῶν > μετὰ τῶν Τούρκων). Although hiatus is avoided in Chon, it is permitted in MChon (for example, παρ’ Ἀνδρονίκου > παρὰ Ἀνδρονίκου and ὑπ’ ἀνέμου > ὑπὸ ἀνέμου). Generally speaking, most of these results confirm Hunger’s findings in his study on the metaphrasis of Anna Komnene’s Alexias,24 putting them on a more solid basis. However, they also add a number of further nuances, not least since the metaphrasis of Choniates’ text is much longer (400 pages) than the fragment left of the metaphrasis of the Alexias (60 pages).

The Vocabulary of Hagiographical Metaphraseis and their Model Texts Within the framework of a follow-up project funded by the University of Cyprus,25 which started at the end of 2016, the scope of the investigation has been extended to other texts that also appear in at least two versions. The aim of this new project has been, on the one hand, to create a control and to confirm the findings based on the comparison of Choniates’ History and its

21 On the Byzantine use of synthetic pluperfect and perfect forms related to metaphraseis, see M. Hinterberger, “Die Sprache der byzantinischen Literatur: Der Gebrauch der synthetischen Plusquamperfektformen,” in Byzantinische Sprachkunst. Studien zur byzantinischen Literatur, gewidmet Wolfram Hörandner zum 65. Geburtstag, Byzantinisches Archiv 20, eds, M. Hinterberger and E. Schiffer (Munich, 2007), pp. 107–42, particularly pp. 121–30, and Hinterberger, “The Synthetic Perfect in Byzantine Literature,” in The Language of Byzantine Learned Literature, Byzantios 9, ed. M. Hinterberger (Turnhout, 2014), pp. 176–204, particularly pp. 191–95. 22 Examples in M. Hinterberger, “From Highly Classicizing to Common Prose: The Metaphrasis of Niketas Choniates’ History,” Varieties of Post-classical and Byzantine Greek, Trends in Linguistics. Studies and Monographs 331, eds, K. Bentein and M. Janse, (Berlin – Boston, 2021), pp. 179–200, particularly p. 185. 23 On the various ways in which the dative is rendered in MChon, see also Davis, Η Μετάφραση, pp. 65–69. 24 Hunger, Anonyme Metaphrase, pp. 155–254. 25 Under the title, “Lexical Differentiation in Byzantine Texts: The Correspondence between the Learned Classicizing Vocabulary and the Vocabulary of ‘Usual’ Prose” (LexByz) and the following participants: M. Hinterberger (principal investigator), A. Kazamia, V. Konstantinou, M. Kyriakidou, Ch. Modestou (research assistants), A. Kyritsi (project management), E. Schiffer and J. Davis (advisors).

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metaphrasis with Anna Komnene’s Alexias and its metaphrasis, but also to investigate other simplifying metaphraseis of the fourteenth century, such as the metaphrasis of Nikephoros Blemmydes’ Imperial Statue and the metaphrasing epitome of George Pachymeres’ History, as well as the thirteenth-century reworking (Retractatio) of the twelfth century Book of Syntipas. On the other hand, we wish to compare the metaphrastic process as observed in the Choniates-to-metaphrasis transformation with the process that underlies the rewriting of hagiographical texts, particularly in the framework of the so-called tenth-century Metaphrastic Menologion.26 In addition, other stylistically upgrading metaphraseis such as Nikephoros Ouranos’ reworking (BHG 1690) of the earlier life of Symeon the Younger Stylite (BHG 1689), as well as fourteenth-century metaphraseis of hagiographical texts and Nikephoros Xanthopoulos’ Explanation of the Heavenly Ladder (which not only explains, but transposes the old seventh-century text by John Klimakos into classicizing Greek) are taken into consideration. 27 For practical reasons, we have started with pairs of relatively long texts (preferably at least one part of which is available in a modern critical edition) such as the lives of Euthymios (BHG 649) and Sabas (BHG 1609), the life of Stephen the Younger (BHG 1666) or the martyrion of the Edessian Confessors Gurias, Samonas, and Abibos (BHG 736–38), as well as shorter texts, for example, the martyrion of Anastasios Perses (BHG 85) or the martyrion of Blasios (BHG 277).28 So far a substantial part of the correspondences between Cyril of Skythopolis’ old life of Euthymios (BHG 647) and Symeon’s version have been processed.29 As in the case of Chon and the MChon, the juxtaposition of Symeon Metaphrastes’ texts and their models reveal that the replacement of certain lexical items constitutes an important feature of the transposition from one register to the other. See, for example, the following juxtaposition of two corresponding passages: Cyril of Skythopolis, life of Euthymios 22, ed. Schwartz (Leipzig, 1939), p. 35.14–24: αὐτῶν δὲ παραγενομένων συναπαχθεὶς τοῖς τῆς διανοίας ὀφθαλμοῖς, ὁ μέγας Εὐθύμιος ὡς πατριάρχῃ Ἱεροσολύμων Ἀναστασίῳ συνετύγχανεν. καὶ οἱ μὲν παρόντες ἐν θαύματι ἐγίνοντο· ὁ δὲ Χρύσιππος

26 On the work of Symeon the Metaphrast, see generally C. Høgel, Symeon Metaphrastes. Rewriting and Canonization (Copenhagen, 2002). 27 Meletios (metropolitan of Nikopolis), S. Dimitreas and V. Lampropoulos, Νικηφόρου Καλλίστου Ξανθοπούλου Ἐξήγησις σύντομος εἰς τὴν Κλίμακα τοῦ Ἰωάννου (Preveza, 2002). 28 On the texts constituting the Metaphrastic Menologion and their respective sources/models, see the list in Høgel, Symeon Metaphrastes, pp. 172–204. 29 On other aspects of the rewriting process, such as the treatment of authorial comments or autobiographical declarations, see M. Hinterberger, “Die Aneignung des Anderen: Die Viten des Kyrillos von Skythopolis bearbeitet von Symeon Metaphrastes. Beobachtungen zur Umarbeitungstechnik,” in Mélanges Bernard Flusin (= Travaux et mémoires 23.1), eds, A. Binggeli and V. Déroche (Paris, 2019), pp. 333–51.

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ἐγγίσας ἰδίᾳ λέγει τῷ γέροντι· σεβάσμιε πάτερ, οὐκ ἔστιν ἐνταῦθα ὁ πατριάρχης· Ἀναστάσιος γὰρ ὁ σκευφύλαξ ἐστὶν οὗτος. σκόπει γὰρ ὅτι χροακὰ ἱμάτια φορεῖ, ἅπερ ἀδύνατον, πατριάρχῃ Ἱεροσολύμων ἐνδύσασθαι. ὁ δὲ γέρων θαυμάσας καὶ ἐνεὸς γεγονὼς εἶπεν, πίστευέ μοι, τέκνον, ἕως οὗ ἐλάλησας, ἄσπρα ἱμάτια ἐθεώρουν αὐτὸν φοροῦντα. καὶ λέγει εἰς ἐπήκοον πάντων· ὄντως οὐκ ἠπατήθην, ἀλλ’ ὅπερ ὁ θεὸς προέγνω καὶ προώρισεν, πάντως ἐπιτελέσει. Symeon Metaphrastes, life of Euthymios 61, ed. PG 114, 645CD: ἤδη δὲ καὶ αὐτῶν παραγεγονότων, θεωρίᾳ τινὶ θειοτέρᾳ κάτοχος γεγονὼς ὁ μέγας οἷα καὶ Ἱεροσολύμων πατριάρχῃ ὡμίλει τῷ Ἀναστασίῳ καὶ διελέγετο. οἱ μὲν οὖν παρόντες ἐν θαύματι πάντες ἦσαν· Χρύσιππος δὲ καὶ αὐτὸς ἐκπλαγεὶς καὶ πρὸς οὖς ἐπικύψας τῷ Εὐθυμίῳ· ἀλλ’ οὐχ ὁ πατριάρχης, σεβάσμιε πάτερ, φησί, παρ’ ἡμῖν· ὁ δὲ φύλαξ τῶν ἱερῶν σκευῶν Ἀναστάσιος, ὁρᾷς ὅπως ἄρα καὶ περιβολῆς ἔχει; δείξας αὐτοῦ τὰ ἱμάτια· λαμπρὰ δὲ ταῦτα καὶ σηρικὰ ἦσαν, ἅπερ, φησί, πατριάρχην Ἱεροσολύμων ἐνδεδῦσθαι ἥκιστα θεμιτόν. ἐπισχὼν δέ τινα χρόνον ὁ γέρων καὶ ὥσπερ ἐν ἑαυτοῦ γενόμενος, ἀλλὰ πίστευσόν μοι τέκνον, φησί, λευκὴν αὐτὸν εἰς τόδε καὶ οἵαν εἰκὸς πατριάρχην στολὴν ἐπενδεδῦσθαι, φοροῦντα ἑώρων, καὶ οἶμαι ὡς οὐκ ἠπάτημαι, ἀλλ’ ὃ προέγνω θεός, καὶ εἰς πέρας ἄξει. Examining this juxtaposition, we observe again that a substantial part of the text (35 words out of 91 and 120 respectively, again, approximately one-third) remains the same, whereas 14 words of Cyril’s text (approximately one-sixth – in bold) have been replaced (comparatively fewer than in the previous juxtaposition of Chon and MChon). Another part of Cyril’s text has been omitted or profoundly modified. The following lexical correspondences can be established. συναπαχθεὶς > κάτοχος ὡς > οἷα συνετύγχανεν > ὡμίλει λέγει > φησί

σκευφύλαξ > φύλαξ τῶν ἱερῶν σκευῶν χροακὰ > λαμπρὰ εἶπεν > φησί

ἄσπρα > λευκὴν ἐθεώρουν > ἑώρων ἐπιτελέσει > εἰς πέρας ἄξει

Moreover, the following morphosyntactic correspondences can be established: παραγενομένων > παραγεγονότων ἐνδύσασθαι > ἐνδεδῦσθαι

γεγονὼς > γενόμενος ἠπατήθην > ἠπάτημαι

A substantial amount of correspondences has already been established by the research team, but not yet processed. So far, a representative portion of the life of Euthymios (around 40 pages in Schwartz’ edition) as well as smaller parts of the life of Sabas, the life of Theodora of Alexandria (BHG 1727) and the martyrion of the Edessean Confessors have been submitted to the database, so that a few provisional results can be presented. If we examine the lexical correspondences along the same lines as we examined Chon and MChon above (pp. 117-20), we observe the following:

U n de r s ta n d i n g D i ffe r e n t L e ve l s i n Byzant i ne Vo cab ul ary

1.1. Correspondences are also consistent here, but to a lesser degree; see, for example, the following usual/stable correspondences (older text > Symeon). ἀκούω > μανθάνω θεάομαι > ὁράω θεωρέω > ὁράω κατέρχομαι > κάτειμι

λαμβάνω > παραλαμβάνω λέγω > φημί νεώτερος > νέος ὅστις > ὅς

παρακαλέω > δέομαι Σαρακηνός > Ἀγαρηνός συνέρχομαι > συρρέω φοῦρνος > κλίβανος

Consequently, we may draw the conclusion that the replacement of certain words was conducted according to a unifying norm, underlying Symeon Metaphrastes’ “ideal” language, not only within a single text, but the same norm largely applies to all texts examined thus far. 1.2. Occasionally, one term in Symeon corresponds with more than one term in Cyril, see, for example, ἐπινεύω for εἴκω, καταδέχομαι, and νεύω, or μονή for κοινόβιον and μοναστήριον. Though less conspicuous, this is the reverse phenomenon from above. This, in turn, means that lexical variation in Cyril is slightly greater than in Symeon. With some caution, I would say that this is due to Symeon’s efforts to restrict vocabulary to purely classical terms, as much as possible. Not only are Latin loanwords avoided, such as φοῦρνος in the table above, but generally words belonging to the common language that are not of Greek origin or are not attested in classical texts (this is, of course, the case for most terms related to Christianity and particularly to ecclesiastical administration; see below). However, terms that are already obsolete in the living language or alien to the “common” language are added. Moreover, in contrast to Choniates, Symeon does not introduce new words into the Greek vocabulary.30 His strict adherence to a lexical canon renders his texts slightly monotone (only in terms of vocabulary, of course). 1.3. Symeon rarely renders one word in Cyril with two or more synonyms; for example, ἐδεῖτο μετὰ δακρύων, ἱκέτευεν, ἐλιπάρει for the simple παρεκάλει μετὰ δακρύων or πτοούμεθα καὶ δεδοίκαμεν for φοβούμεθα. Although in the case of Chon/MChon this is a characteristic trait of the “low” text, in Symeon’s texts, this phenomenon belongs to techniques used in the broader framework of the amplification of certain passages/motives of Cyril’s text, such as emotionally fraught scenes. 2. Details concerning corresponding terms 2.1. Frequently Symeon, too, replaces a simple verb with a compound verb, for example: ἐκμανθάνω < μανθάνω, διαγωνίζομαι < ἀγωνίζομαι, and παραλαμβάνω < λαμβάνω.31 30 See also Schiffer, Untersuchungen, p. 94. 31 On this phenomenon in other texts by Symeon, see Schiffer, Untersuchungen, pp. 97–98 (“Komposita”) and pp. 98–100 (“Mehrfachkomposita”).

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2.2. Again, -μι verbs replace non -μι verbs. Characteristically, compound verbs based on εἶμι replace their semantically equivalent compounds based on ἔρχομαι, for example, ἄνειμι < ἀνέρχομαι or κάτειμι < κατέρχομαι. 2.3. In accordance with his general alienating line, Symeon, like Choniates, achieves a special aesthetic effect through the circumlocution of everyday terms, particularly of the ecclesiastical and monastic realm, for example: ναός < ἐκκλησία φροντιστήριον, μονή < κοινόβιον, μοναστήριον προεστώς < ἀββᾶς, ἀρχιμανδρίτης ὁ τὴν ἀρχὴν τῆς ἐκκλησίας πεπιστευμένος < ἀρχιεπίσκοπος

ὃς τῶν κατὰ τὴν ἔρημον ἐξηγήσατο κοινοβίων < κοινοβιάρχης φύλαξ τῶν ἱερῶν σκευῶν < σκευοφύλαξ ἐπιβάλλω τὸ σημεῖον τοῦ σταυροῦ < σφραγίζω

Symeon too uses the nominalized neuter form of adjectives. However, he does not employ them for the expression of collective concepts but for abstract ones, for example, τὸ πρᾶον replaces πραότης or τὸ αὐστηρόν appears for ἡ στυφότης.32 3. Beyond these lexical differences, we observe recurrent morphosyntactic substitutions such as the pluperfect or perfect for the aorist (see the juxtaposition above, p. 122) as well as the addition of classicizing elements such as contracted comparative forms (for example, μείζους for μείζονας). By and large, these are the same correspondences produced by the comparison of Chon and MChon; however, they appear considerably less often in Symeon’s texts. One characteristic classicizing phenomenon that appears only in Symeon is the replacement of the dative in certain contexts with the accusative of respect. This can be clearly seen in those passages where a new person is introduced by name and origin, for example, Ἀλεξανδρεὺς τῷ γένει> τὸ γένος Ἀλεξανδρεὺς, Ἰωάννης τῇ κλήσει> ὄνομα Ἰωάννης, or Θεόκτιστος ὀνόματι> Θεόκτιστος ὄνομα In terms of vocabulary, Symeon Metaphrastes is classicizing, but in a rather conservative way, which means he generally shuns poetic words (such as Homeric terms), and does not create his own classicizing terms (which is so characteristic for Choniates).33 Since Symeon uses such classicizing morphosyntactic elements as the already mentioned pluperfect or the accusative of respect but, on the other hand, avoids highly classicizing features such as the Attic declension (for example, νεώς) or pronouns (for instance, οἱ, σφεῖς),

32 See already Schiffer, Untersuchungen, pp. 94–95. 33 In comparison with the earlier life of Stephen the Younger by Stephen the Deacon, Symeon replaces or omits the considerable number of neologisms in his model; see Hinterberger, “Between Simplification and Elaboration,” p. 47.

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one could also say more generally that in comparison to Choniates, Symeon’s language is only mildly classicizing (and by no means atticizing).34 In the juxtaposition of Symeon’s texts and their models, the replacement of stylistically low words with high-level words is less conspicuous than in the case of the historiographical texts and their metaphraseis because a) in comparison to the classicizing historiographical texts composed by Anna Komnene and Niketas Choniates, Symeon’s stylistically elaborated hagiographical texts are on a lower level (they are much less classicizing, as already noted) and b) their simpler model texts, in most cases, are, in terms of style and language, closer to their elaborated versions than the fourteenth-century metaphraseis in comparison to Anna’s and Niketas’ originals. In other words, the stylistic gap is considerably narrower in most cases.35

Diachronically Stable Correspondences In a previous article, I pointed out that the same, or similar, phenomena can be observed both when a text is reworked from a stylistically lower level to a higher one and when a text on a stylistically higher level is downgraded towards a lower level.36 In both cases, for instance, the use of the Attic declension, certain emphatic pronouns, the dual number or pluperfect forms mark the higher level, while the absence of such morphological categories is characteristic for the lower level. The same is true for vocabulary. If we juxtapose the hagiographical and lexical correspondences between historiographical texts, it becomes apparent that as there are morphological categories that are diachronically characteristic for the high style, there are also lexical items/ terms that mark high style through the centuries. Partly, we can even establish that the same pairs of high/low corresponding words are characteristic both for the metaphrastic rewriting of the tenth century and that of the fourteenth. A few examples of diachronically stable correspondences between high-level and low-level words are the following: verbs (high level on the left, low level on the right) ἀθροίζω – συνάγω αἰτέω – ζητέω

ἀναιρέω – φονεύω βούλομαι – θέλω

δέδοικα/δέδια – φοβέομαι δέομαι – παρακαλέω

34 Based on other texts, Schiffer, Untersuchungen, p. 94, reached similar conclusions. 35 Ševčenko, “Levels of Style,” p. 300, generally regards the older texts which Symeon reworked as “written in simple diction,” whereas Cyril’s lives in particular are “low style … unless one wanted to locate his works in the subclass of lower middle style” (p. 291). On the other hand, he hesitates to assign the label “high style” to the Metaphrastic corpus because these texts are topped by even more elaborated reworkings, which then would have to be labelled “super-high style” (p. 302). According to Ševčenko’s model, Anna’s and Niketas’ Histories are, without doubt, high style, whereas the metaphraseis of their texts are middle style (p. 301). 36 Hinterberger, “Between Simplification and Elaboration,” pp. 50–51.

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δράω – ποιέω ἐάω - ἀφίημι ἔξειμι – ἐξέρχομαι ἕπομαι – (ἐξ)ακολουθέω θεάομαι – βλέπω/ὁράω

κάτειμι – κατέρχομαι λαμβάνω – κρατέω οἶδα – γνωρίζω οἰκοδομέω – κτίζω ὁράω – θεωρέω

πρόσειμι – προσέρχομαι φημί – λέγω ὠνέομαι – ἀγοράζω

nouns, pronouns and other terms: ἄμφω – ἀμφότεροι βασίλεια – παλάτιον βραχύς – ὀλίγος εἰς δεῦρο – μέχρι τοῦ νῦν ἕτερος – ἄλλος

ἔτος – χρόνος ἱκανός – πολύς λευκός – ἄσπρος μονή – μοναστήριον οἰκέτης – δοῦλος

ὅς – ὅστις σύν – μετά φροντιστήριον – μοναστήριον

More investigation is needed on how this diachronic stability of correspondences can be explained. Did the low-level terms of these pairs not change in the spoken language, despite the lapse of 800 years? Or was this stability sustained through text books (lexica, for example)?37 Therefore, was the literary koine also a highly artificial medium? None of the above observations is novel or surprising. Their systematic registration and analysis, however, should provide new insights and prove useful not only for appreciating metaphrastic reworking techniques, but also our understanding of the language of Byzantine literature in general. The collection of corresponding terms provides the student of Byzantine texts (the experienced one, but even more so the beginner) with a practical tool for the systematic assessment of the stylistic quality of their vocabulary. It is hoped that the final results of this research project will serve as a guide through the often confusingly rich variety of Byzantine vocabulary, so that we can better appreciate the literary mastery and beauty of Byzantine texts.

37 Quite a few of the lexical correspondences mentioned above can be found in Byzantine lexica such as Hesychius (A–O, ed. I. C. Cunningham; Π–Σ, ed. P. A. Hansen; Τ–Ω, eds, I. C. Cunningham and P. A. Hansen, Berlin 2005–20 ), Photius (ed. Ch. Theodoridis, Berlin/ New York, 1982–2013), Suda (ed. A. Adler, Leipzig 1928–35) or Pseudo-Zonaras (ed. J. A. H. Tittmann, Leipzig, 1808). For instance, ἄμφω – ἀμφότεροι appears in all four of them; ὅς – ὅστις as well as οἰκέτης – δοῦλος in Hesychius and Ps.-Zonaras, φημί – λέγω in Suda and Ps.-Zonaras, and φροντιστήριον – μοναστήριον in the Suda. Of course, the possible connection between these lexica and the correspondences established on the basis of a juxtaposition of metaphraseis and original texts still needs further investigation. See also the interesting discussion of this question in N. Churik, “Greek Explicating Greek: A Study of Metaphrase Language and Style,” in Trends and Turning Points: Constructing the Late Antique and Byzantine World, Medieval Mediterranean 117, eds, M. Kinloch and A. MacFarlane (Leiden – Boston, 2019), 66–82.

Staffan Wahlgren

Byzantine Chronicles and Metaphrasis

Introduction There are at least two widely-known uses of the term “metaphrasis,” by which fairly different phenomena in Byzantine literary culture and linguistic practice are described.1 On the one hand, the term is used with reference to the rewriting of hagiographical texts to give them a standardised, slightly more conservative and, probably, to the discerning audience, more palatable form than most saints’ lives had had to date. It must be added that this is not only a matter of linguistic form but also of the use of literary devices. As a phenomenon, it is culturally rooted in the intellectual renaissance of the ninth-eleventh centuries, and it is an activity for which there is even an eponymous hero of sorts, Symeon the Metaphrast. Furthermore, the term metaphrasis is used with reference to a small group of late-Byzantine translations, or paraphrases, of texts such as the Alexiad of Anna Komnene, the Histories of Niketas Choniates, and the Basilikos Andrias of Nikephoros Blemmydes.2 In this case, the changes are of a different kind. They aim for a simpler form, closer to, but not identical with, the vernacular. In this chapter, I will present a text that does not belong to any of these metaphrastic categories and has never entered any discussion concerning



1 For a discussion of the terminology, see D. Resh, “Toward a Byzantine Definition of Metaphrasis,” Greek, Roman, and Byzantine Studies 55 (2015), 754–87. See also C. Høgel, ed., Metaphrasis: Redactions and Audiences in Middle Byzantine Hagiography, KULTs skriftserie 59, (Oslo, 1996). For more general reference on Byzantine Greek and the study thereof, the reader may turn to M. Hinterberger, ed., The Language of Byzantine Learned Literature, Byzantios 9 (Turnhout, 2014), and S. Wahlgren, “Byzantine Literature and the Classical Past,” in A Companion to the Ancient Greek Language, ed. E. J. Bakker, Blackwell Companions to the Ancient World (Chichester, 2010), pp. 527–38. 2 A corpus highlighted and subjected to scrutiny in publications such as H. Hunger, Die anonyme Metaphrase zu Anna Komnene, Alexias XI–XIII. Ein Beitrag zur Erschließung der byzantinischen Umgangssprache, Wiener Byzantinistische Studien 15 (Vienna, 1981) and H. Hunger and I. Ševčenko, Des Nikephoros Blemmydes Βασιλικὸς Ἀνδριάς und dessen Metaphrase von Georgios Galesiotes und Georgios Oinaiotes. Ein weiterer Beitrag zum Verständnis der byzantinischen Schrift-Koine, Wiener Byzantinistische Studien 18 (Vienna, 1986). Metaphrasis in Byzantine Literature, ed. by Anne P. Alwis, Martin Hinterberger and Elisabeth Schiffer, Studies in Byzantine History and Civilization, 17 (Turnhout, 2021), pp. 127–137 FHG10.1484/M.SBHC-EB.5.123041

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Byzantine Greek and linguistic variation. Indeed, to my knowledge, it has never been the object of any research. Although it may not be a metaphrasis in the technical sense, I contend that it makes sense to compare it with these types of texts: to be precise, to the second category of metaphraseis noted above, where texts are simplified linguistically. In short, it is a text that stands in a particular relationship to a previous work in terms of having the same overall structure, bound by some of the same literary conventions, and having roughly the same informational value. Yet, it differs from the previous work with regard to its linguistic form, the nature of which will be discussed below.

Object of Study: An Anonymous Continuation of the Chronicle of Symeon the Logothete The text is a chronicle, of the kind appended as a continuation to another chronicle, in this case, the tenth-century Chronicle of Symeon the Logothete.3 There is a fairly large and diverse corpus of such continuations in Byzantine (and post-Byzantine) literature, ranging from some very well-known cases modelled upon established predecessors (thus, Theophanes writes a continuation to George Synkellos, and Michael Psellos to Leo Diakonos), to the rather obscure, which are tucked away in manuscripts and seldom taken notice of.4 The text studied here is one of the obscure cases. We do not know by whom it was written. In fact, it seems more than likely that it had multiple authors and is a compilation in its turn, a matter discussed below. Nor do we have a date; it could even be post-Byzantine. Preserved in two sixteenth-century manuscripts (Paris, Bibliothèque nationale de France, MS gr. 1708, fols 342r–68r; and Vatican City, Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana, MS Ottob. gr. 118, fols 278r–306v), the text covers the period from the inception of the sole rule of Emperor Constantine VII through most of the reign of Alexios I Komnenos. It ends, mutilated, at a date shortly before the death of Alexios. Thus, the period of time covered is approximately 945–1118. As already mentioned, the text is studied here because of its dependence upon the Chronicle of Symeon the Logothete, and I will argue that this dependence is of a similar kind to that of a metaphrasis proper and its prototype. Thus, our text bears a general resemblance to Symeon in the way information is processed and how the narrative is structured, including how it is divided into units (on the highest level, into chapters dealing with the reign of one emperor each). In addition, the fact that the continuation is appended

3 See Symeonis magistri et logothetae chronicon, ed., S. Wahlgren, Corpus Fontium Historiae Byzantinae 44.1 (Berlin, 2006). 4 For an overview of middle-Byzantine historical texts, see, most recently, W. Treadgold, The Middle Byzantine Historians (Basingstoke, 2013).

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to Symeon’s Chronicle in the manuscripts makes it reasonable to think that some kind of dialogue between the texts is intended. The analysis below is conducted on the basis of my forthcoming edition.5 It is not quite certain how the two manuscript witnesses to the text are related to each other, but there are no differences between them that would call any of my conclusions into question.

On the Inner Coherence of the Anonymous Continuation Before proceeding to a more thorough description and analysis, including a discussion of how the continuation relates to Symeon’s Chronicle, it is necessary to reflect upon the inner coherence of the work. Even a cursory glance reveals that there is a great deal of variation within the text. What is the nature of this variation, and does it suggest composite authorship or the changing ambitions of one and the same author? In order to illustrate these issues, we will compare parts of the beginning, the middle, and the end of the text. First, we will focus on chapters 1–2, which deal with the reigns of Emperors Constantine VII and Romanos II respectively. This first part, following directly on from Symeon’s Chronicle, has a distinctly low-level character. As far as phonology and morphology are concerned, we find the accusative γυναῖκαν, and the form εἶτον (ἦτον) for the third-person singular imperfect of εἰμί. Furthermore, in one of the two manuscripts, there is the form τουσοῦτον (the other manuscript has τοσοῦτον). In addition, ἀπό occurs with the accusative: ἀπὸ τὰς βαρβαρικὰς χεῖρας, and the accusative is also used for an indirect object: ἀφῆκε τὴν βασιλείαν τὸν υἱὸν αὐτοῦ τὸν ῾Ρωμανόν. Another modern feature is the form καταλύσει in the construction ἤθελε καταλύσει, a forerunner of the modern Greek aparemphato (for discussion, see below). There is one case of να (νά), no examples of ἵνα, and there are only two instances of the infinitive, compared with the many occurrences in some of the chapters below. Moreover, except for the nominal form παρακοιμώμενον, technically a participle, there are no participles at all. This is at variance with what we find in the anonymous continuation’s clearly high-level chapters. In fact, the text of chapters 1–2 is mostly paratactic, presenting accumulated main clauses with finite verbs, with a few examples of hypotactic constructions (generally, these are temporal or causal). Furthermore, the most common connectors between these paratactic units are δέ and καί. There are also some cases of a simple τότε as an introductory element of a clause, for instance: τότε παρέλαβαν καὶ οἱ Τοῦρκοι τὴν μεγάλην Ἀντιόχειαν κτλ.



5 To be published as part of Corpus Fontium Historiae Byzantinae 44.2. The most readily available older edition is printed in PG 110, cols 1194–1260.

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Turning from this to chapter fourteen (the reign of Isaac Komnenos), the character of the text changes completely, into a type of high-level idiom. As far as I can see, there are no instances of confusion (from the point of view of traditional grammar) of the accusative and the dative cases. ἵνα is employed (although just once), but not να. Furthermore, there is a certain range of options when it comes to particles, such as ἀλλὰ μήν, μὲν γάρ, δέ γε, δή, and μέν - δέ (and a tendency to avoid connection with a simple καί). There are also five perfect forms (four participles, and the finite form ἐπικεχείρηκεν). Of some interest is the way in which participles and infinitives are employed. A great number of participles are used (32 in all), and these tend to be equivalents of different kinds of subordinate clauses.6 There are also 21 cases of the infinitive, which is a remarkable number: chapter fifteen, which is approximately 70% of chapter fourteen, has only two instances (see below). However, looking closer at the infinitives, and the surroundings in which they occur in chapter fourteen, we discover something else: ἀλλ᾽ ἤδη ῥητέον καὶ ὅπως τὴν βασιλείαν ἀπέθετο, εἰ καὶ μὴ συμφωνοῦσιν οἱ συγγεγραφότες περὶ αὐτοῦ· ὁ μὲν γὰρ πολὺς τὴν γλῶτταν ὁ σοφώτατος Ψελλὸς ἐν θήραις ἐκεῖνον λέγει τὸν βασιλέα σχολάζοντα· [“But let us now talk about how he lost his throne – even if the authors writing about this do not agree. As far as that great master of style, the very wise Psellos, is concerned, he says that the emperor was busying himself with hunting.”] καὶ συχνάκις τὴν δεξιὰν λογχηφόρον ἐπ᾽ ἄρκτους καὶ σύας ἐπανατείνοντα βληθῆναι πνεύματι ψυχρῷ τὴν πλευράν· κἀντεῦθεν φρίκην ἐπισυμβῆναι αὐτῷ, καὶ πυρετὸν ἐκ τοῦ βάθους ἀναφλεγῆναι· εἰς δὲ τὴν ἐπιοῦσαν νύττεσθαι τὴν πλευράν, καὶ τὸ ἆσθμα μὴ ἐρρῶσθαι αὐτοῦ· κἀκτούτου ἀμφισβητήσιμον γενόμενον τὸ βιώσιμον, ἢ καὶ ἀπεγνωκότα τέλεον τὴν ζωήν, καὶ τὸν δοῦκα Κωνσταντῖνον τῇ βασιλείᾳ ἐγκαταστήσαντα πρὸς τὴν κρείττω μετατάξασθαι βιοτήν· From this, the text continues: ὁ δέ γε θρᾳκήσιος θηρᾶν κἀκεῖνος τὸν βασιλέα ἱστόρισε περὶ τὴν Νεάπολιν· [“Also the Thracian told in his history that the emperor was out hunting, close to Neapolis.”] σῦν δ᾽ ἐπιφανῆναι ποθὲν τὴν θέαν φρικτόν, καὶ τὸν Κομνηνὸν ἐνδεδωκότα τῷ ἵππῳ τὸν χαλινὸν διώκειν τὸν σῦν· τὸν δὲ εἰσδῦναι τὴν θάλασσαν γενέσθαι τε ἀφανῆ· ἐν τοσούτῳ δὲ ὡς ἐξ ἀστραπῆς ἐνσκῆψαι λαμπηδόνα τῷ βασιλεῖ· καὶ τῇ ταύτης βολῇ διαταραχθέντα τὸν αὐτοκράτορα τοῦ ἵππου τὲ ἐκπεσεῖν καὶ κεῖσθαι κτλ. In short, a great many of the infinitives occur in oratio obliqua and are among the devices employed in order to help us identify the relevant passages taken



6 As can be seen above and below, this is not the case in the low-level parts of the text, where participles, if they exist at all, tend to be less verbal.

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from sources, in the first sample, from Psellos and, in the second, an otherwise unknown Thracian.7 Chapter fifteen (the reign of Constantine X Doukas) is somewhat problematic too, but for other reasons. On the whole, I would consider this as one of the low-level chapters. It contains such features as να (nine times, spread over the chapter; there is only one case of ἵνα). There is one case of ἀπό with the accusative (ἀπὸ τὸ θράσος ἐκρατεῖτο). ἦτον, as a third-person singular imperfect of εἰμί, occurs three times. τον is used as a pronominal form (and, particularly noteworthy, in the accusative case where, from a high-level perspective, we would expect the dative: οὐδὲ τὸν ἐφαίνετο καλόν). Moreover, there are only a small range of options with regard to particles. On the other hand, there are a few features that are potentially more high level. There are two occurrences of participles, both conjunct. Furthermore, there are two cases of the infinitive (although somewhat formulaic since they depend upon semantically void finite verbs): ὡς ἔμελλε καὶ αὐτὸς τελευτᾶν (cf. chapter one), and οὐδεὶς τὸ μέλλον δύναται ἐκφυγεῖν. οὖν (once) and μὲν οὖν (also once) are used, and the perfect form δέδωκεν is also utilised once. From this, we may turn to a sample taken from chapter twenty (the reign of Alexios Komnenos).8 This is clearly of a high-level kind. There is no instance of a preposition with anything but the expected case form. Furthermore, there are a wide range of particles: δέ, γάρ, οὖν, μέν - δέ, ἀλλὰ μήν, and μὲν οὖν, and there are many perfect forms (γέγονε, διατετήρηται, εἴρηται) and forms of the pluperfect (διελέλυτο, τετήρητο, κατεψήφιστο), as well as one case of the optative (διδάσκοιντο). Perhaps more striking, and significant from a structural point of view, are the number of infinitives (these occur seven times) and the extremely frequent use of participles (34 times, in various functions). ἵνα as well as να are missing from the sample from chapter twenty.

On the Inner Coherence: Summary If we cast only a quick glance at the beginning and end, we would reach the conclusion that we are dealing with two different texts: one written in a low-level idiom, the other in a high-level. However, taking more parts of the work into account shows that matters are more complex. Chapter fourteen looks rather high level, whereas chapter fifteen once more turns to more low-level forms (a tendency that is discontinued somewhere on the way to chapter twenty).



7 For Psellos cf. Chronographia 7.72, ed. D. R. Reinsch (Berlin, 2014), p. 243. Also noteworthy, in the first of these examples, is that the death of the emperor is referred to. Since the death of an emperor is generally mentioned at the end of a chapter, this seems to indicate that the text segment has not been properly integrated into the whole. 8 450 words, taken from the middle of the biography of Alexios Komnenos, from ὃς ἐν ἔτεσι μὲν πεντεκαίδεκα τὰ τῆς πλάνης μαθὼν until καὶ ἀκούσης ἐκείνης ἀφέλκεσθαι τὴν ἐξουσίαν οὐκ ἤθελεν.

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Furthermore, chapter fourteen, with its extensive use of oratio obliqua, is a healthy reminder that source texts are lurking in the background. In sum, all this needs further investigation. Yet, already at this stage, it is safe to say that this is a very composite work, and that there is multiple authorship, rather than the changing ambitions of one author. However, more than this – for instance, how and when the text was put together – we do not know at present. That said, the present chapter will focus on the first part of the text. The corpus of 2000 words mentioned in the investigations below is taken from the beginning of the text, from Emperor Constantine VII to the reign of Emperor Nikephoros Phokas. After a first chapter dealing with the reign of Constantine VII, the second chapter concerns Romanos II, and the third is about the reign of Theophano together with her sons, Basil II and Constantine VIII. As far I can make out, all these (that is, chapters one to three), may have been written by one person with a single stylistic purpose.9 Furthermore, it may be supposed generally that this is the part of the continuation most likely to have been written in some kind of dialogue with Symeon’s original chronicle, since it immediately succeeds Symeon in the manuscripts. Therefore, and in order to capture this potential dialogue, I will add some notes on the corresponding usage of Symeon himself, in addition to the description of the continuation.10

The Language of the Immediate Continuation to Symeon’s Chronicle: General Impressions The general impression is one of simplicity. The dative is avoided, or replaced by another case form, and we move towards the three-case system of modern Greek (nominative [vocative], genitive, and accusative). Cola are short, sentences are uncomplicated, and there is a great deal of parataxis. Participles seem rare. As far as subordination is concerned, the situation is somewhat complicated. A tendency to parataxis keeps the number of subordinate clauses down. On the other hand, it seems that subordinate clauses are occasionally used as an alternative to even less preferred constructions and also in order to avoid infinitives and participles. A fairly common kind of subordination occurs with the conjunction να.



9 Although this may also be doubted, see below on the uneven distribution of participles and infinitives. 10 To some extent, we have to ignore the problem that Symeon’s Chronicle is not homogeneous and may reflect the usage of many authors (for this, see the introduction to my edition [above, n. 3], with further references). As far as the description of Symeon’s language is concerned, see the index of my edition. For the language of Byzantine chronography in general, see S. B. Psaltes, Grammatik der byzantinischen Chroniken (Göttingen, 1913; repr. Göttingen, 1974).

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Spelling, Phonetics, and Morphology The spelling of the continuation is far less classical than that of Symeon’s Chronicle as transmitted in the same manuscripts (BnF gr. 1708 and Vat. Ottob. gr. 118, as mentioned above), a fact that may suggest that the spelling differences are not so much due to the copyists as to the author. There is an abundance of itacisms but also other cases, which may reflect actual phonetic usage, for example, γυναῖκαν/νύκταν and παλάτιν. Connected to this is morphological innovation. The imperfect and the thematic aorist (the so-called strong aorist, which is not of the σ type) exhibit the thematic vowel α, as in εἶχαν and παρέλαβαν respectively. This is also known from Symeon’s Chronicle. εἶτον is the normal form for ἦν and ἐφαντάζετον and ἠρέσκετον are used. All this lies in opposition to Symeon’s Chronicle, where the more classical forms of ἦν and -το are used. As in Symeon’s Chronicle, there are cases of double temporal augment, for example, ἐδιέβενεν (from διαβαίνω). The status of the subjunctive, at least as a morphological category, is doubtful. Apparently, indicatives are used after ὅταν: ὅταν ἔχουσι … καὶ ἀνακατώνουσιν. In addition, -ει and -η (ῃ) occur in alternation for the third person, following the conjunction να; however, this may be no more than a matter of itacism.

Case and Prepositions As mentioned already, there are signs that the case system is changing. In the sample of 2000 words, I have counted only eighteen instances of the dative: five times in the formula Τῷ … ἔτει (τοῦ κόσμου), ὀνόματι (once), κακὸν (οὐκ ἐποίησεν) αὐτῷ (once), ἔδωκεν αὐτῷ (twice), ἐπί + dat. (twice), ἐν ὀνείρῳ (once), and ἐν ᾧ ἔκειτο (once). There is not a single case of ἐν + dative in an instrumental sense, which is otherwise very common in Byzantine Greek, including Symeon. This, I contend, is not a great number of incidences: the dative tends to be much more common in a wide range of Byzantine texts, of different kinds, and of different levels of Greek.11 Why it is so comparatively rare here deserves further attention. My provisional suggestion is that either it is a question of linguistic level: this text is below the level of the texts covered by earlier statistics, in fact, below the level of texts for which the assertion holds true that the dative is a common phenomenon. An alternative is that it is a question of chronology: this text has been produced later than the texts

11 In another study, I counted datives in a wide range of Byzantine texts and concluded that the case form is common almost everywhere (finding some 90 instances in 2000 words of Symeon’s Chronicle and even more in most other texts). See S. Wahlgren, “Case, Style and Competence in Byzantine Greek,” in Hinterberger, Language, pp. 170–75.

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covered by earlier statistics, in fact, at a time when the general productivity of the dative had declined. The accusative is a frequent substitute for the dative, in cases where the dative is the expected form from the classical point of view. This goes with verbs normally taking the dative as well as with prepositions. Some examples follow: ἀρετὴν ἐπ ’ αὐτόν (but also ἀρετὴ ἦν ἐπ ’ αὐτῷ) ἀφῆκε τὴν βασιλείαν τὸν υἱὸν αὐτοῦ τὸν ῾Ρωμανόν ὁμοίαζεν δένδρον τὴν βασίλισσαν γοῦν ἐφάνη τοῦτο πολλὰ βαρύ ὡς ἦλθε να ἀνασικοθεῖ, ἔδοσάν τον σπαθέαν κατὰ κεφαλῆς In the sample of 2000 words, there is one certain example of εἰς + acc. in a locative sense (ἔβλεπε τὸν Τζιμισχὴν συχνὰ εἰς τὸ παλάτιν) and a possible one (ἐκαβαλίκευσε … ἔσω εἰς τὴν Κωνσταντινούπoλιν). εἰς + acc. in a locative sense is a very common phenomenon in Symeon’s Chronicle. There is also some oscillation between the genitive and the accusative, especially after ἀπό (both case forms are common), but also after χωρίς (χωρὶς βίας τινός, but χωρὶς φύλλα). In all similar instances, Symeon’s Chronicle conforms to classical usage.

Negations As in Symeon’s Chronicle, negations are mostly used in a conventional Byzantine way: οὐ negates the indicative and μή anything else, even if this is not semantically justified in accordance with the rules of the classical language, as in the one occurrence of μὴ εὑρόντες (describing the murder of Nikephoros II Phokas): αὐτοὶ οὖν ἀπελθόντες πρῶτον εἰς τὸν βασιλικὸν κράββατον καὶ μὴ εὑρόντες αὐτὸν ἐφοβήθησαν κτλ. In this case, from a classical point of view, there is no reason not to employ οὐ. Sometimes οὐδέν is more than an internal accusative, as in οὐδὲν ἐδύνατο πλέον να στρατηγεῖ, or οὐδὲν ἔβλεπε τὸν Τζιμισχήν. This is the forerunner of the modern Greek δε, which also occurs once (as well as in the chapter on Nikephoros Phokas): τὴν αἰτίαν ὅπου δεν ἐλαμπροφόρεσαν.

Participles, Adverbial Adjunct Clauses, Object Arguments, etc. Participles seem fairly rare, and especially so at the beginning of the sample. In chapters one to two, there is only one example, παρακοιμώμενον, which may be classified as a participle. In the whole sample of 2000 words, there are 24 instances, which can be compared with more than 30 participles in each of chapters fourteen and twenty, which are both about 500 words long.

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As far as function is concerned, participles are rarely used as an alternative to constructions with a finite verb, and they are often nouns (there are examples such as ἄρχοντες and ἁρματωμένοι). Furthermore, it occasionally feels as if the author does not handle participles with ease, and there are some issues with their declination: βασιλεύσαντος δὲ τούτου, ἔβλεπον αὐτόν, and Θεοφανῶ ἀνέβασε κρυφὰ τὸν Τζιμισχὴν μετὰ καὶ ἑτέρων ἁρματωμένων, δείξας (Theophano). Similar instances are, of course, known from earlier texts, including Symeon’s Chronicle. Several times, participles are employed in periphrastic constructions to express a state or convey a sense of continuity (instead of a simple imperfect), for example, ἀγαθὸν ἦν σκεπασμένον, and εἶτον ἀπὸ τὸν Φωκᾶν λυπημένος καὶ θυμωμένος. This is a construction known since antiquity.12 Of special interest is the following: εἶτον ἄνθρωπος μισῶν πᾶσαν κακίαν καὶ πονηρίαν. This may be a matter of emphasis, or topicalization, and thus pragmatically justified (εἶτον μισῶν is more than a neutral alternative to ἐμίσει, and should be translated as emphatically as possible: “this was a man who…”). In at least one case, there is a distinctly biblical feel to a participle: ἀποκριθέντες εἶπον. να is also common (there are 19 instances in the 2000-word corpus), and there is a wide variety of subordinate (or not so subordinate) clauses that it introduces. There are object clauses as well as adverbial clauses, and the να-clause can be, more or less, part of the main argument or a more dispensable adjunct. Some examples are: ὥρισε να ἀνοίξωσι τὰς ἀποθήκας τῆς Μέσης οὐδὲν ἐδύνατο πλέον να στρατηγεῖ οὐκ ἔφερε να βλέπει γυρεύει να ἐπάρῃ τὴν βασιλείαν οὐδεὶς τῶν ἐπὶ γῆς γεννηθέντων ἀνθρώπων ἐστὶν να μὴδὲν ἔχει τινὰ ψόγον ἢ ἐλάττωμα εἰσῆλθε καὶ ὧδε να συγχύσῃ τὰ πράγματα ἔπεσε νὰ ὑπνώσῃ In addition, we find combinations of να with ὅτι as well as ὅπως: ὤμοσεν ὅρκους φρικτοὺς τῆς βασιλίσσης ὅτι ποτέ του να μὴν ἐπιβουλευθῇ τὰ παιδία τοῦ Ῥωμανοῦ, and ἀεὶ ἔπλεκε τοὺς βρόχους ὅπως να ἔχει αὐτοὺς εἰς καιρὸν χρείας. The very existence of να is interesting since it is not used in chronicles such as that of Symeon. This is obviously one of the clearest indicators of the general linguistic level of the text. ἵνα is very rare (twice in 2000 words), and it functions as an alternative to να. On both occasions, it occurs after κελεύω and it appears once in variation with να: ἐκέλευσεν εὐθὺς ἵνα ἀνοίξωσι τὰς βασιλικὰς ἀποθήκας, and ἐκέλευσεν αὐτὸν ἵνα κάθηται εἰς τὸν οἶκον αὐτοῦ καὶ ὡς οἶδεν να ζῇ.

12 See H. W. Smyth, Greek Grammar (Cambridge, Mass., 1963), § 1857 (see also s.v. Periphrasis in Smyth’s index).

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Furthermore, infinitives seem rare, with fifteen occurrences in 2000 words. Of these, ten are very close to each other and in a part of the text where να is missing – just possibly an indication that not even the 2000-word corpus is so homogeneous after all. Some examples are: ἔμελλε … τελευτᾶν ἠγωνίζετο εἶναι ἐβουλήθησαν τοῦ φυγεῖν (infinitive with article) Twice, there is a consecutive, summarizing infinitive: ὡς εἰπεῖν, and εἶτον δὲ ὁ Τζιμισχῆς ἄνθρωπος ὡραῖος, ξανθός …· εἰπεῖν ὅτι εἶτον ὡς παράδεισος μετὰ μεγάλων χαρίτων. The second of these seems especially remarkable because of its independent nature. Obviously, a reason for the decline of the infinitive could be the rise of να (for which, see above). However, there are also (twice in 2000 words) forms of the type of the modern Greek aparemphato, in combination with what is a slightly weakened θέλω: ἤθελε καταλύσει ὑπέρπυρα φ (“he was willing to pay, etc.”) and καὶ μόλις ὅταν ἤθελεν ἔλθη πρὸς βραχὺν ὕπνον, ἔμπροσθεν τοῦ εἰκονοστασίου αὐτοῦ ἔπιπτεν (“and just when he intended to take a nap, (each time) he fell down, etc.”). As suggested above, we can probably translate θέλω above by using words such as “willing” and “intending.” However, especially in the second of the two cases, I think we are justified in considering the form of θέλω as weakened. Because of this probable semantic weakening, and for formal reasons (because of the use of the untraditional forms καταλύσει and ἔλθη), we seem to be far indeed from Symeon’s Chronicle and other mid-Byzantine chroniclers and, in fact, on the way towards modern Greek (the construction used by the continuator is the first step towards θα).

Conclusions The main aim of this chapter was to give an impression of how the language of a continuation to the Chronicle of Symeon the Logothete relates to the original chronicle, and to open up for discussion how such examples of varying language levels relate to the problem of metaphrasis. However, before this question could be addressed, it was necessary to look at variations within the continuation. This preliminary investigation reveals considerable internal differences, so much so that there is reason to believe that the continuation is a composite work. With this in mind, the second part of this analysis focused on the first four chapters of the continuation, dealing with Emperors Constantine VII through to Nikephoros Phokas, on the supposition that this may be a homogeneous work, reflecting the competence and ambition of one chronicler only. Needless to say, this overview is superficial in its present form. One of many relevant sub-fields left without attention is that of vocabulary. All the same,

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it reveals undeniable and considerable differences between the continuation and Symeon’s Chronicle itself. In short, the continuation is more paratactic, it has a smaller range of options when it comes to linguistic features of a clearly ancient Greek type, and it shows distinct modernist traits. Whether these differences are of a similar kind and significance to those dividing metaphrastic texts proper from the texts from which they were translated, is a matter that has to be dealt with in future publications; I find this very likely. In any case, as hinted at already, one reason why I wanted to present this text in the context of a discussion of metaphrasis, is that writers of continuations such as this may have found themselves in a situation similar to that of a metaphrast: as in the case of a metaphrasis proper, here, too, there is a previous work that sets the pace and predetermines what the writer may or may not do, even down to the level of phrasing and language. Furthermore, here, as in the case of metaphraseis, we have to ask questions about competence and about audience, questions fundamental to any discussion of linguistic variation. Is this kind of chronicle, with a simpler linguistic form, intended for an audience less familiar with educated Greek? We might be tempted to think so. However, considering the setting in which it has been preserved, appended to the Chronicle of Symeon the Logothete in some manuscripts, it is hard to think that its form is as it is in order to ensure an easier read: if you read this text, you are surely supposed to read the one preceding it in the manuscript, that is, the Chronicle of Symeon the Logothete itself. In sum, all this only underlines our limited understanding of language levels and Byzantine readership. Perhaps we are more bothered by variations of language than the Byzantines were themselves.

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Corinne Jouanno

The Alexander Romance and Metaphrasis A Case Study: Alexander’s Encounter with the Persian Ambassadors

The Alexander Romance is probably one of the works that was most intensively rewritten throughout the Middle Ages, in Byzantium, Western Europe, and the Middle East and East Asia (there exist Arabian, Persian, and Malaysian adaptations). The Greek versions, whose composition spread over more than a millenium, from Late Antiquity up to the period of Turkokratia, can be classified into two main categories, conservative and innovative.1 The first group includes rewritings, which, on the whole, remain faithful to the narrative content of the oldest transmitted version of the Romance (the alpha recension); their main deviations from the basic pattern are due to the addition or elimination of episodes. The recensions bēta (5th c.) and lambda (8th c.?), the Alexander Poem in codex Marcianus graecus 408 (13th or 14th c.) and the Rimada (around 1529) all belong to this conservative family of texts. The second, more innovative, family derives from the epsilon recension (8th or early-9th c.), whose anonymous author made drastic changes to the narrative material of the Romance: he introduced new characters, transformed onomastic data, altered chronology, completely modified the physionomy of many episodes and, above all, christianized the whole story whilst picturing Alexander under the anachronistic guise of a Byzantine emperor. Two versions derive from this Byzantine adaptation of the Romance: gamma (date unknown), and dzēta (15th/16th c.), the ancestor of the famous Neohellenic Phyllada Megalexandrou (17th c.). In this chapter, the investigation will focus on one particular episode, the story of Alexander’s encounter with the ambassadors of the Persian king



1 For an overall presentation of the versions of the Greek Alexander Romance, see R. Merkelbach, Die Quellen des griechischen Alexanderromans, 2., neubearbeitete Auflage mit Mitwirkung von J. Trumpf, Zetemata 9 (Munich, 1977). For the ancient, early- and middleByzantine versions, see C. Jouanno, Naissance et métamorphoses du Roman d’Alexandre. Domaine grec (Paris, 2002) and for the late- and post-Byzantine versions, see C. Jouanno’s chapters in La Fascination pour Alexandre le Grand dans les littératures européennes (Xe–XVIe siècle), ed. C. Gaullier-Bougassas, 4 vols (Turnhout, 2015), 1, pp. 102–05 and pp. 649–78; 2, pp. 1223–68; 3, pp. 1677–1707; 4, pp. 517–31, with further bibliography. Metaphrasis in Byzantine Literature, ed. by Anne P. Alwis, Martin Hinterberger and Elisabeth Schiffer, Studies in Byzantine History and Civilization, 17 (Turnhout, 2021), pp. 139–153 FHG10.1484/M.SBHC-EB.5.123042

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Darius. As a matter of fact, this episode features in all the Greek versions of the Romance, conservative and innovative alike, and a close study of its variations in form and content will allow us to observe the spectrum of alterations induced by the process of rewriting. This example of metaphrasis on a small scale can indeed be considered as a mirror to the compositional method at work in the Romance on the whole.

Gradual Rewriting: Alexander and the Persian Ambassadors in the Conservative Versions of the Romance The episode of Alexander’s encounter with the Persian ambassadors belongs to the material Pseudo-Callisthenes inherited from the historical tradition: it had already featured in Plutarch’s Life of Alexander, in the series of chapters devoted to Alexander’s youth (5.1–3). A comparison between Plutarch’s version of the story and that found in the oldest Greek text of the Romance (alpha recension, A text)2 brings out some interesting differences. To be sure, both texts play on the motif of the puer senex, insist on Alexander’s outstanding precocity, and present his reception of the foreign envoys as a prefiguration of his destiny as a great conqueror. However, in Plutarch, the encounter takes place in Philip’s absence and Alexander acts as a substitute for his missing father, while in the Romance, the king attends the meeting, although he remains in the background. We are only informed at the end of the sequence that he rejoices over Alexander’s steadiness towards the Persian ambassadors (1.23.2–3): his passivity serves to enhance the young prince’s single-mindedness. Another important innovation in the Romance is the presentation of Macedonia as subject to Persian rule and paying tribute to Darius – a scenario probably suggested to the anonymous author by a somewhat confused recollection of a Herodotean anecdote involving Alexander I, son of Amyntas, and the envoys of Darius I:3 the hero of the Romance can thus be portrayed as the liberator-to-be of his enslaved fatherland. The description of Darius’ envoys as “Barbarians” also contributes to the motif of the war for freedom. Finally, while in Plutarch’s biography the episode of the Persian ambassadors was entirely written as narrative, in the Romance it has been put into dialogue form: Alexander first questions his Macedonian companions in order to receive information about the foreign visitors, and then addresses the Persians



2 We have three witnesses of the alpha recension: a Greek text, transmitted in manuscript Parisinus graecus 1711 (A text), a fourth-century Latin translation by Julius Valerius, and a fifth-century Armenian translation. The Greek text and the Latin version are now available in R. Stoneman and T. Gargiulo, eds, Il Romanzo di Alessandro, vol. 1 (Rome – Milan, 2007), pp. 6–121 (for the first book of the Alexander Romance). 3 Herodotus, 5.18–21.

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personally – both times in direct speech. Such a stylistic device results in a considerable amplification of the sequence, which comprises only 69 words in Plutarch and extends to 135 in the Romance. The modifications made to this episode in the conservative rewritings of the Romance are limited but nonetheless significant. A first element subject to variation is the length of the passage: while the bēta recension and the Alexander Poem are characterized by a tendency to amplification and offer narratives that are respectively 246 and 239 words, one finds in the Rimada a shortened version of the encounter, only 156 words. In bēta the expansion of the episode is due to small changes in form and content alike.4 In the passages in dialogue form, the introductory phrases, which were sometimes elliptical according to the normal use of ancient Greek, have been systematically replaced with whole sentences including verb, subject, and complement, probably for the sake of clarity. We have thus an example of paraphrasis of an interpretative and didactic kind:5 A text. – καὶ εἶπον· “σατράπαι Δαρείου.” ὁ δέ·“τί πάρεισιν ὧδε;” οἱ δὲ εἶπον· “τοὺς συνήθεις φόρους ἀπαιτοῦντες τὸν πατέρα σου.” – “ὑπὲρ τίνος δέ,” φησίν, “ἀπαιτοῦσι τοὺς φόρους;” οἱ δέ· “Τῆς γῆς ὑμῶν ὑπὲρ Δαρείου.” (1.23.2) Bēta recension. – οἱ δὲ εἶπον αὐτῷ· “σατράπαι Δαρείου τοῦ Περσῶν βασιλέως.” ὁ δὲ Ἀλέξανδρός φησι πρὸς αὐτούς· “τί ὧδε παραγεγόνατε;” οἱ δὲ ἀπεκρίθησαν πρὸς αὐτόν· “τοὺς συνήθεις φόρους ἀπαιτῆσαι τὸν πατέρα σου.” λέγει αὐτοῖς ὁ Ἀλέξανδρος· “ὑπὲρ τίνος φόρους ἀπαιτεῖτε ὑμεῖς;” ἀπεκρίθησαν αὐτῷ οἱ σατράπαι Δαρείου· “ὑπὲρ τῆς γῆς Δαρείου τοῦ βασιλέως.” (1.23.2–3) Probably also with a view to offering a clearer text, the rewriter has simplified the sequence of verbal exchanges: instead of addressing his companions and the Persians successively, Alexander now directly engages in conversation with the ambassadors. The “war for freedom” motif has been noticeably enhanced, as shown by Alexander’s provocative declaration to the Persians: “It is not right for Philip, king of the Macedonians, to pay tribute to Barbarians: not anyone who so wishes is allowed to subject the Greeks to slavery!” In addition, one can point out the appearance of two new elements: the transformation of the tribute paid to Darius into “golden eggs” (a detail perhaps revealing the use of an alternative source)6 and the final allusion to a portrait of Alexander, 4 L. Bergson, ed., Der griechische Alexanderroman. Rezension β (Stockholm, 1965). The lambda recension does not differ from bēta in this episode. 5 According to the classification used by M. Roberts, Biblical Epic and Rhetorical Paraphrase in Late Antiquity (Liverpool, 1985), p. 39. 6 One can find the same motif in a more explicit form in the Syriac translation of the Alexander Romance, as well as in the Latin translation of Leo Archipresbyter, which both derive from the lost * delta recension. On the Syriac version, see C. A. Ciancaglini, “The Syriac Version of the Alexander Romance,” Le Muséon. Revue d’Études Orientales 114 (2001), 121–40. On Leo Archipresbyter, see A. Cizek, in La Fascination pour Alexandre le Grand, 4, pp. 52–56 (with further bibliography).

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which the ambassadors have commissioned from a painter and brought back to the Persian king. As for the linguistic register of the sequence, any differences between the A text and bēta are unclear since both are written in the same kind of koinē. To be sure, one can find in bēta vulgarisms that were lacking in A, for example, the use of δέδωκαν instead of ἔδωκαν, of ὅταν with the imperfect ἦν, and an isolated μήτε; but the revised text also contains learned elements not present in A, such as the use of the optative ἂν εἴη, and more varied connective particles (εἶτα, οὖν), while the beginning of the episode in A was entirely written in “καί style.”7 The main peculiarity of the Alexander Poem in codex Marcianus graecus 408 and of the Rimada is to offer a versified rewriting of the Romance, based on a text combining elements of the alpha and bēta recensions. Even if its date of composition has been much discussed and oscillates from the second half of the thirteenth century to the end of the fourteenth century,8 the Alexander Poem is unquestionably contemporaneous with the chivalric romances of the Palaiologan period. In putting the fictional life of Alexander into political verses, the rewriter wanted to dress the old story in a more fashionable guise and accentuate the novel-like character of Alexander’s adventures. In the episode of the Persian ambassadors, he remained very faithful to the inherited scenario.9 Though the metre he employed is the standard medium of “vernacular” literature, his language happens to be a rather conservative koinē.10 A clear sign of this linguistic conservatism is the frequent use of the verb φημί (l. 1029, 1030, 1049) and its compounds11 (ἀντέφησαν, προσέφησε: l. 1031, 1035). We also find

7 S. Trenkner, Le style ΚΑΙ dans le récit attique oral (Brussels, 1948). M. Reiser compares the style of the bēta recension with that of the Gospels: “Der Alexanderroman und das Markusevangelium,” in Markusphilologie, ed. H. Cancik (Tübingen, 1984), pp. 131–63, at 136–38. 8 The date of 1388, which features in codex Marcianus graecus 408, has often been considered to relate to the year of composition of the Alexander Poem: see, for instance, C. Matzukis, “The Alexander Romance in the Codex Marcianus 408: New Perspectives for the Date 1388, Hellenic Consciousness and Imperial Ideology,” Byzantinische Zeitschrift 99 (2006), 109–17. Because of the bad condition of the transmitted text, W. J. Aerts, its most recent editor, supports an older date, and even suggests that the Poem may have been written under the reign of Michael VIII Palaiologus, a little after the reconquest of Constantinople in 1261: The Byzantine Alexander Poem, Byzantinisches Archiv 26, 2 vols (Boston – Berlin, 2014), 1, pp. 6–9. See also the review by M. Hinterberger, Byzantinische Zeitschrift 110.1 (2017), 169–75. 9 Ed. Aerts, l. 1026–60. 10 See Aerts, The Byzantine Alexander Poem, 1, p. 8; for a detailed analysis, ibid., 1, pp. 16–25. The Alexander Poem is written in a higher form of Schrift-Koine than the metaphraseis of Anna Komnene and Niketas Choniates. On both works, see J. Davis, “Anna Komnena and Niketas Choniates ‘translated’: the fourteenth-century Byzantine metaphrases,” in History as Literature, ed. R. Macrides (Farnham, 2010), pp. 55–70, at 56. 11 The use of such verbs is a mark of high style: in the metaphraseis of Anna Komnene and Nikephoros Blemmydes, such compounds are regularly replaced by simple verbs or verbs containing a single preverb: see H. Hunger, Anonyme Metaphrase zu Anna Komnene,

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perfect forms (ἑστῶτας, ἐνδεδυμένους: l. 1025–26), the optative (προσλήψαιμι: l. 1055), and classicizing connective particles (τοιγαροῦν, τε, οὖν) besides more popular ones (πάλιν, λοιπόν). When reading the passage, one is also struck by the profusion of verbal double-compounds (ἐπαναστρέψας, l. 1024; προσαπεκρίθησαν, l. 1037; προσεδωρήσαντο, l. 1042; προσαπαιτεῖτε, l. 1043), many of which may have been used for metrical reasons, exactly like the pseudo-Homeric expression ὁ παῖς Φιλιππιάδου, misused for ὁ παῖς Φιλίππου or ὁ Φιλιππιάδης.12 An examination of the versification in the passage under consideration leads one to suspect that the rewriter was perhaps not very gifted in poetry; at least, he handles the rules of political metre rather freely, and six of the 35 verses in our text bear the accent on usually non accentuated unpaired syllables (5th, 7th, 11th and 13th: l. 1025, 1033, 1040, 1041, 1053, 1055).13 Nevertheless, it would be unfair to accuse the author of the Alexander Poem to do nothing else other than padding. A close comparison of his text with the alpha and bēta recensions clearly shows his intent to blacken the image of the Persians: they are repeatedly labelled “Barbarians” (l. 1025, 1045, 1046, 1047). One can also notice the introduction of some axiological touches that are intended to blame the Persians’conduct: in demanding tribute from Macedonia, Darius “unjustly” and “badly” (ἀδίκως, κακῶς) claims a part of the gods’ presents (l. 1042–43). Alexander will thus go to Persia to recover the tribute that was received “illegally” (κακῷ νόμῳ) by the Persian king (l. 1053). The same deterioration of the Persians’ image is noticeable throughout the Alexander Poem, and can probably be explained by an implicit assimilation of Alexander’s enemies with the Turks who were menacing the existence of the Byzantine Empire at the time when the Alexander Poem was being composed.14 Indeed, Turks were regularly called Persians in Byzantine classicizing texts. A last addition in the Alexander Poem features in the conclusion of the episode, which underlines Alexander’s intellectual capacities. While in the former versions Philip was pleased “at seeing Alexander such” (A: ὁρῶν τοιοῦτον τὸν Ἀλέξανδρον) or “daring such things” (bēta recension: ὁρῶν τοιαῦτα τολμῶντα τὸν Ἀλέξανδρον), in the Alexander Poem he rejoices in “his

Alexias XI–XIII. Ein Beitrag zur Erschließung der byzantinischen Umgangssprache, Wiener Byzantinistische Studien 15 (Vienna, 1981), pp. 174–76; H. Hunger and I. Ševčenko, Des Nikephoros Blemmydes Βασιλικὸς Ἀνδριάς und dessen Metaphrase von Georgios Galesiotes und Georgios Oinaiotes. Ein weiterer Beitrag zum Verständnis der byzantinischen Schrift-Koine, Wiener Byzantinistische Studien 18 (Vienna, 1986), pp. 230–32. 12 The rewriter is also highly concerned with euphony (see Aerts, The Byzantine Alexander Poem, 1, p. 12). Thus, in our passage, the masculine ᾠούς (l. 1038) is used instead of the correct neutral form ᾠά (l. 1044) to avoid a hiatus between χρυσέα and ἑκατόν (Aerts, The Byzantine Alexander Poem, 2, p. 306). 13 Hinterberger underlines the sometimes “unusual” aspect of the versification in his review of Aert’s edition: Byzantinische Zeitschrift 110.1 (2017), 174–75. 14 C. Jouanno, “The Persians in Late Byzantine Alexander Romances: A Portrayal under Turkish Influences,” in The Alexander Romance in Persia and the East, eds, R. Stoneman, K. Erickson and I. Netton (Groningen, 2012), pp. 105–15.

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good sense, his replies, the intelligence of his statements” (l. 1057–58: ἔχαιρεν οὖν ὁ Φίλιππος ἐπί τε τῇ φρονήσει, | ταῖς ἀποκρίσεσιν αὐτοῦ, συνέσει τε τῶν λόγων). Such a remark reveals the encomiastic veneer of the whole work, which opens and closes with an enthusiastic praise of Alexander. The Rimada, a post-Byzantine text, printed in Venice in 1529 by the Zakynthian expatriate Demetrios Zinos is, like the Alexander Poem, a versified rendering of the Alexander Romance, rewritten in rhymed political verses.15 This was a fashionable medium at a time when other Byzantine fictional works, originally composed in unrhymed political verses, were reworded into rhymed verses, such as the History of Belisarios or the romance, Imberios and Margarona. The most conspicuous peculiarity of the Rimada Alexandrou is that it is written in vernacular Greek. Its composition partakes in a movement of cultural mediation meant to make classical heritage open to a wider readership through the medium of vernacular languages. Demetrios Zinos himself also rewrote the pseudo-Homeric Batrachomyomachia in vulgar Greek.16 In the episode of Alexander’s encounter with the Persian ambassadors (ll. 399–418), one can point out a great number of vulgarisms in morphology, syntax, and vocabulary.17 Yet, the content itself has undergone little change, apart from the fact that the rewriter has abbreviated his model and suppressed a few details. There is no more reference to the enigmatic golden eggs, and the final motif of Alexander’s portrait has been metaphorized: in their account to Darius, the Persian ambassadors “picture” (ἐζωγράφισαν) Alexander’s character (l. 417: ἦθος) and his resemblance to a serpent (l. 418: καὶ ἦτον τόσον θαυμαστόν, σὰν ν’ ἔναι τῆς ἀσπίδος) – a reminder of the well-known description of the hero of the Romance as therianthropic.18 The addition, in Alexander’s speech to the Persians, of an image evoking his pain for being summoned to pay tribute (he says his heart has been struck as though by a big arrow, “Τοῦτο τὸ ἔχω στὴν καρδιὰ σὰν νά ’χα μέγα βέλος,” l. 402) shows

15 D. Holton, ed., Diegesis tou Alexandrou. The Tale of Alexander. The Rhymed Version (Thessalonica, 1974). 16 See C. Carpinato, “Appunti per una nuova edizione della Batrachomyomachia di Dimitrios Zinos,” in Origini della Letteratura Neograeca, ed. N. M. Panagiotakis (Venice, 1993), pp. 391–415. 17 Here is a list of the main vernacular elements present in the passage: use of the νά particle, of γιά instead of διά, σάν instead of ὡς; replacement of μι-verbs with thematic forms (δίδω, παραδίδω: l. 409–10); presence of the third singular verbal form ἔναι (l. 418); presence of an indeclinable participle in -οντας (γυρίζοντας, l. 399); vernacular forms of pronouns (relative pronouns ὁπού or πού; shortened personal pronouns τό, μᾶς, σᾶς; demonstrative pronouns τοῦτα, ἐτοῦτο; use of the colloquial contract form στόν, resulting from the conflation of εἰς with a following definite article); forms of the accusative devoid of a final -ν (Μοθώνη, l. 399; αὐθέντη, l. 411); and use of typically popular vocabulary (νερό, “water,” l. 404; βασιλιά, “king,” l. 406; γρικῶ, “listen,” l. 416). 18 Alexander’s first portrait in the Romance (1.13.3) specifies that he did not look like Philip and Olympias but had a lion’s mane, eyes of different colours (“one white, one black”) and teeth “as sharp as nails” (A text) / “as sharp as a serpent’s” (bēta).

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that epitomizing does not mean giving up every kind of literary ambition. One can find many other examples of the same dramatizing tendency in the Rimada, especially in battle scenes, whose emotional power is often emphasized by the rewriter.19

In-depth Rewriting: Alexander and the Persian Ambassadors in the Innovative Versions of the Romance The episode of Alexander’s encounter with the Persian ambassadors has a very different shape in the epsilon recension, the starting point for the innovative rewritings of the Romance.20 The first notable change is chronological: instead of being part of the story of Alexander’s youth, the reception of Darius’ envoys now takes place after Philip’s death, and thus becomes Alexander’s first act of government. The new king is only 13 years old, according to epsilon’s fanciful chronology. The telling of the encounter has been split into two different scenes (ch. 10.1–4): when the Persians arrive in Macedonia, Alexander sends them his right-hand man (and alter ego) Antiochos, and compels them to bow down before his representative and revere his own spear, which Antiochos holds in his hand. After this first encounter with the king’s substitute, the ambassadors are allowed to enter the city and are introduced before Alexander himself, who receives them with great pomp and ceremony whilst sitting imposingly on an elevated throne, and surrounded by the splendidly dressed Macedonian grandees. The Persians have to bow three times to the young king, as they did previously to Antiochos. Next, the latter reads out Darius’ letter to Alexander (its text is reproduced in direct style) and Alexander, unimpressed by the arrogant content of the message, tears the letter to pieces and notifies the Persian king to prepare to wage war. The whole sequence, which comprises about 540 words, is double the length than the episode that features in the conservative versions of the Romance, and appears deeply marked by the influence of the ceremonial in use at the Byzantine court: the etiquette to which the Persian envoys have to conform is very similar to that observed when a foreign ambassador was received in Constantinople.21 Thus Alexander is portrayed in the guise of a Byzantine emperor. His habit with the colours of the rising sun (ἡλίου δὲ ἦν

19 For example, in his account of the second great battle between the Macedonians and the Persians, the author of the Rimada has inserted authorial comments to underline his inability to describe the massacre properly. He also repeatedly addresses readers or listeners to increase their emotional involvement (l. 1218, 1220, 1223). 20 J. Trumpf, ed., Anonymi byzantini. Vita Alexandri Regis Macedonum (Stuttgart, 1974). 21 See Constantine Porphyrogenetus, De ceremoniis aulae Byzantinae, 1.89 (Ὅσα δεῖ παραφυλάττειν, πρεσβευτοῦ μεγάλου ἐρχομένου Περσῶν) and 2.15 (a chapter based on a series of embassies – Tarsiote, Spanish, Russian – received at the imperial palace during

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ἀνατέλλοντος ἡ χροία τῆς στολῆς) is a clear hint of a central theme of Byzantine monarchic ideology that assimilated the emperor to the rising sun and that celebrated his cosmic rule.22 Alexander’s ceremonial garment attests to his kingly quality, as well as his splendid crown, which is topped by a “victory sign.” A cross, the instrument that brought victory to the Christian emperors (σταυρὸϛ νικοποιόϛ), is meant by this periphrasis: its triumphal symbolism was clearly marked on Byzantine coins with the inscription “ἐν τούτῳ νίκα.”23 Its presence on Alexander’s crown foreshadows the fictitious episode of the Macedonian king’s conversion to monotheism during his visit at Jerusalem, and his subsequent role as a champion of the true faith.24 In this monarchic rewriting, where Alexander’s meeting with the Persian ambassadors is transformed into a highly ritualized encounter, the level of style and language appears significantly higher than in the previous versions of the Romance (alpha and bēta). Even if one can find some elements characteristic of Byzantine Greek (third-person plural verbs with a plural neuter subject, the nominative pendens, and the misuse of the dative)25 as well as typically Byzantine lexical items (μεγιστάνων to designate Alexander’s grandees, or τοπάρχας to refer to provincial administrators), classicizing elements prevail in epsilon’s phraseology. Verbal forms are particularly revealing in their archaizing tendency: besides the presence of an optative (ἀπονέμοιτο) in Darius’ letter, one is struck by the frequent use of μι-verbs and perfect or pluperfect verbal forms,26 the latter of which is classified by Martin Hinterberger as a kind of “mannerism.”27

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the year 946): ed. I. I. Reiske, 2 vols (Bonn, 1829–30), 1, pp. 398–408 and pp. 566–98. For a detailed analysis of the reception scene in epsilon, see Jouanno, Naissance et métamorphoses, pp. 365–68. On this theme, which was inherited from the late Roman Empire, see H. P. L’Orange, Studies on the Iconography of Cosmic Kingship in the Ancient World (Oslo, 1953), especially pp. 103–09 and 490–92 and E. H. Kantorowicz, “Oriens Augusti, Lever du Roi,” Dumbarton Oaks Papers 17 (1963), 119–35. For Byzantine developments, see O. Treitinger, Die oströmische Kaiser- und Reichsidee nach ihrer Gestaltung im höfischen Zeremoniell. Vom oströmischen Staats- und Reichsgedanken ( Jena, 1938; reprint Darmstadt, 1956), pp. 112–123, and H. Hunger, Prooimion. Elemente der byzantinischen Kaiseridee in den Arengen der Urkunden, Wiener Byzantinistische Studien 1 (Vienna, 1966), pp. 75–80. See J. Gagé, “Σταυρὸϛ νικοποιόϛ. La victoire impériale dans l’empire chrétien,” Revue d’Histoire et de Philosophie Religieuses 13 (1933), 370–400 and A. Grabar, L’Empereur dans l’art byzantin. Recherches sur l’art officiel de l’empire d’Orient (Paris, 1936), pp. 32–39. See chapters 20 (sojourn at Jerusalem), 22 (monotheist proclamation in Alexandria), and 39 (enclosing of the unclean nations Gog and Magog). See at 10.2 the sentence φόβος αὐτοῖς εἶχε, with a dative instead of an accusative. μι-verbs: ἐπῄεσαν, ἀπολεῖ, παρειστήκεισαν, ἵστατο, εἰσιέναι, ἀναστάντες, ἄπιτε; perfect or pluperfect forms: περιβεβλημένους, ἠμφιεσμένος, παρειστήκεισαν. M. Hinterberger, “Between Simplification and Elaboration: Byzantine Metaphraseis Compared,” in Textual Transmission in Byzantium: Between Textual Criticism and Quellenforschung, Lectio 2, eds, J. Signes Codoñer and I. Pérez Martín (Turnhout, 2014), pp. 33–60, at 49.

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The vocabulary and syntax are even more representative of the literary pretensions of the reviser. He makes use of a large range of connective particles (δέ, γάρ, καὶ δή, οὖν), his lexicon is rich and varied, and even contains rare and sophisticated words, such as the adverb γαιηβάτως, which describes the pedestrian arrival of the ambassadors.28 Periphrases too are frequently used, such as “τὸν ἐπὶ πάντων αὐτοῦ” to designate Antiochos or “οἱ περὶ Κανδαύλην καὶ Ἀρζέμβαρ” to refer to the Persians Candaules, Arzembar, and their retinue, in a typically classical way.29 The syntax of the passage is complex, resorting heavily to periodic structure. The author’s stylistic sophistication most strikingly stands out in Darius’ letter to Alexander, which was meant to suggest the Persian king’s arrogance and probably written as a pastiche of chancellery jargon: Ἐπειδὴ τὸ τῆς μοναρχίας κράτος μόνῳ Δαρείῳ τῷ θεῷ δίδοται – καὶ τίς θεὸς πλὴν Δαρείου ὃς ἐγκρατὴς τῆς ὑπουρανὸν ἐκ τῆς περὶ αὐτοῦ ἀπείρου δυνάμεως ἐγένετο; – ἄρχει δὲ βασιλεῖς καὶ τοπάρχας. ἐπὶ τούτῳ οὖν γινωσκέτω τὸ ἡμέτερον κράτος μὴ λανθάνειν Μακεδόνας· εἰ δὲ καὶ τέως ἔλαθεν, διὰ τῶν παρόντων τανῦν ἀποστελλομένων παρ’ ἡμῶν οὐρανίων ἀνθρώπων πάντα τὰ περὶ ἡμῶν διδαχθήσεσθε, καὶ τὸ παρὰ τῆς θείας ἡμῶν προνοίας ἄρχειν Μακεδόνων ἐγχειρισθεὶς δουλικῶς τὸ σέβας τῷ κράτει ἡμῶν ἀπονέμοιτο, τοῖς παρ’ ἡμῶν ἀποσταλεῖσι τοὺς ἐτησίους φόρους παρασχεῖν, συγχωρηθῆναι παρὰ τῆς θειότητος ἡμῶν ἐν τῷ τέως ἄρχειν.30 Besides long sentences, with a host of subordinate infinitives and participles, there is another stylistic device that characterises epsilon’s striving for high style: the frequent use of hyperbaton. This figure is never found in texts of a vernacular nature, according to Hinterberger, who considers it an important stylistic marker.31 In our text hyperbaton is employed to describe the splendour of Alexander’s grandees (“τοὺς πάντας χρυσέοις περιβεβλημένους32 θώραξιν”), the amazement of Darius’ ambassadors when asked to venerate Alexander’s spear (“ταῦτα ἀκούσαντες οἱ τοῦ Δαρείου τὰ ἀσυνήθη καὶ ἀπροσδόκητα ῥήματα”), their feeling when confronted with a topsy-turvy situation (“τοῦτο μάλιστα παρὰ τοῦ βασιλέως ἤλπιζον ἀπολαβεῖν τὸ σέβας”), or the triumphal sign topping Alexander’s crown (“νικητικὸν ἄνωθεν ἔχων σημεῖον”). All this testifies to a very conscious search for expressiveness.

28 10.2: ὡς δὲ τὴν πύλην ἔμελλον εἰσιέναι οἱ περὶ Κανδαύλην καὶ Ἀρζέμβαρ κελεύει Ἀντίοχος σὺν αὐτῷ γαιηβάτως ἄγεσθαι πρὸς Ἀλέξανδρον. 29 One can also mention the use of the periphrastic verbal form τὴν ὁδοιπορίαν […] ποιούμενοι instead of a simple verb at the end of the episode. 30 Many words in this passage correspond with those replaced by more common ones in Anna Komnene’s metaphrasis, where κράτος is regularly replaced by βασιλεία (Hunger, Anonyme Metaphrase, p. 215), λανθάνω by κρύπτομαι (ibid., p. 215), ἀποστέλλω by πέμπω (ibid., p. 200) and ἐγχειρίζω by δίδωμι (ibid., p. 206). 31 Hinterberger, “Between Simplification and Elaboration,” p. 41. 32 The verb περιβάλλω features among the words suppressed in Anna Komnene’s metaphrasis (Hunger, Anonyme Metaphrase, p. 222: it is replaced by ἐνδύω).

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The author of the epsilon recension, who shows an interest in psychological characterization that is unprecedented in the former versions of the Alexander Romance, describes the astonishment of the Persian envoys with much subtlety. To express their fascination at Alexander’s sight in a more striking way, he may have imitated a most celebrated passage of Achilles Tatius’ novel Leukippe and Kleitophon, where the hero describes his fascination at the sight of his beloved: Epsilon recension (10.2): οὐκ ἤθελον ἐξ αὐτοῦ ἀνταίρειν τοὺς ὀφθαλμούς, καὶ εἰ ἤθελον οὐκ ἠδύνοντο. πρὸς γὰρ τὴν γῆν βιαζόμενοι βλέψαι, οἱ ὀφθαλμοὶ ἀντανακλώμενοι πρὸς Ἀλέξανδρον αὐτοὺς ἀτενίζειν κατηνάγκαζον. οὐ γὰρ ἦν αὐτοῖς κόρος τῆς θέας. Achilles Tatius (1.4.5): τοὺς δὲ ὀφθαλμοὺς ἀφέλκειν μὲν ἀπὸ τῆς κόρης ἐβιαζόμην· οἱ δὲ οὐκ ἤθελον, ἀλλ᾿ ἀνθεῖλκον ἑαυτοὺς ἐκεῖ τῷ τοῦ κάλλους ἑλκόμενοι πείσματι, καὶ τέλος ἐνίκησαν. The presence in epsilon of the rare verb ἀντανακλώμενοι may even reflect the influence of another passage from Achilles Tatius,33 where the eyes are described as receiving “the impression of the body as in a mirror.” Such borrowings from an ancient novel contribute to pave the way for a fictionalization of Alexander’s adventures – a most important characteristic of the epsilon recension. The author of this literary rewriting of the Romance may have been led by the same kind of ambition as the group of learned men who, from the end of the eighth century, undertook to transform hagiography into literature, and produced new hagiographical texts in high style, such as John of Sardis, Theodore Stoudites, or patriarch Methodios.34 One does not know if the author of epsilon was working in Constantinople, like the others, but his literary enterprise is contemporaneous to theirs. Thus, the new chapter it opened

33 Achilles Tatius, 1.9.4: ὀφθαλμοὶ γὰρ ἀλλήλοις ἀντανακλώμενοι ἀπομάττουσιν ὡς ἐν κατόπτρῳ τῶν σωμάτων τὰ εἴδωλα. This sentence was probably well known to the Byzantine readership for it is quoted in some sacro-profane gnomologies, for instance, in the third part of the Corpus Parisinum: Florilegium profanum, n° 279, ed. D. M. Searby, Corpus Parisinum. A Medieval Anthology of Greek Texts from the Presocratics to the Church Fathers, 600 bc–ad 700 (Lewiston, 2007) or in the enlarged version of Ps.-Maximus’ Loci communes, ch. 44 (Περὶ κάλλους), 18, ed. S. Ihm, Ps.-Maximus Confessor. Erste kritische Edition einer Redaktion des Sacro-Profanen Florilegium Loci communes, Palingenesia 73 (Stuttgart, 2001). However, the author of the epsilon recension seems to have a thorough familiarity with the whole text of Achilles Tatius, which he used as a stylistic model: see S. M. Trzaskoma, “Some new imitations of Achilles Tatius in the ε recension of the Alexander Romance,” Exemplaria Classica. Journal of Classical Philology 18 (2014), 73–79. 34 See C. Høgel, Symeon Metaphrastes. Rewriting and Canonization (Copenhagen, 2002), pp. 51–53. On this new trend of Byzantine literature, see also S. Efthymiadis, “De Taraise à Méthode (787–847): l’apport des premières grandes figures, une nouvelle approche,” in Autour du “Premier humanisme byzantin” & des “Cinq études sur le XIe siècle,” quarante ans après Paul Lemerle, eds, B. Flusin and J.-C. Cheynet, Travaux et Mémoires 21.2 (Paris, 2017), pp. 165–86.

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in the history of the Alexander Romance can be compared to the renewal of hagiography that took place in the period following the iconoclastic crisis, at the dawn of the first Byzantine humanism. I shall now deal more succinctly with the gamma recension, which is a compilation of material from the bēta and epsilon recensions. It faithfully follows epsilon in the episode of the encounter with the Persian ambassadors (1.26) with one exception at the end of the sequence, where the rewriter borrows a few lines from bēta. Here, Alexander is seen reproaching Darius for taxing the gods’ presents. He then announces that he will recover the sums unduly collected by the Persian king by force, and humiliatingly sends the ambassadors back to Darius without a written answer.35 All this contributes to the praise of Alexander, whose superiority is emphasized even more. For everything else, the gamma rewriter reproduces the text of epsilon in a very literal way. The slight modifications made to the original are probably due to misapprehension. This seems to be the case with the periphrasis “τὸν ἐπὶ πάντων αὐτοῦ,” used in epsilon to designate Antiochos and replaced in gamma by the more colloquial expression “παραπλησίον δὲ αὐτοῦ τυγχάνοντα.” Similarly, the rare adverb “γαιηβάτως,” probably unknown to the rewriter, has been replaced by “εἰσβατῶς.” The presence in gamma of some mistakes of a typically vulgar kind36 seems to imply that the linguistic expertise of the rewriter was much lower than that of the author of epsilon, and that he was sometimes embarrassed by a model whose rather high style he found too demanding. Of all the Greek versions of the Alexander romance, the dzēta recension is the one in which the episode of the Persian ambassadors has been most deeply transformed, and also expanded, for it is now around 850 words in length.37 The textual history of this late rewriting of the Romance is very complex: the work that has been transmitted to us results from a reverse translation. A lost Greek original, which was probably composed in the fourteenth century during the Palaiologan period, was first translated into Old Slavonic. Our Greek text is a retroversion of the Slavonic translation, which may have been completed in the fifteenth or the early sixteenth century.38 35 U. von Lauenstein, ed., Der griechische Alexanderroman. Rezensio Γ. Buch I, nach der Handschrift R herausgegeben, Beiträge zur klassischen Philologie 4 (Meisenheim am Glan, 1962). 36 Incorrect use of the dative: ἀνταίρειν τοῖς ὀφθαλμοῖς; omission of the syllabic augment: μέλλον instead of ἔμελλον; incorrect form of the perfect participle: ἀποσταλμένων; and use of the final -ν in present third-singular verbal forms: ἄρχειν instead of ἄρχει. 37 A. Lolos and V. L. Konstantinopoulos, eds, Ps.-Kallisthenes: Zwei mittelgriechische ProsaFassungen des Alexanderromans, Beiträge zur klassischen Philologie 141 and 150, 2 vols (Königstein im Taunus, 1983): synoptical edition of the manuscripts Eton College 163 (E) and Laur. Ashburnham 1444 (F). 38 The oldest dated Greek manuscript (F) was copied in 1521. On the textual history of dzēta, the key work is U. Moennig, Die spätbyzantinische Rezension * ζ des Alexanderromans, Neograeca Medii Aevi 6 (Cologne, 1992).

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The process of medievalization already at work in epsilon has been further developed in dzēta, whose author has clearly modelled the relationship between Macedonia and Persia on that existing between Byzantium and the Ottoman Empire in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, at a time when the Byzantines were vassals of the Turks, and had to pay tribute to the sultan and to lend him military assistance.39 In the episode of the Persian ambassadors (ch. 30–33), Darius not only requires “all the tribute,” called λιζάτον, according to late-Byzantine terminology, but he also asks the Macedonians to send him “good troops” (καλὸν στρατόν). He even wants Alexander, who is still a young boy, to be sent to Persia as a hostage and raised at his court, according to a well-documented practice of the Ottoman sultans.40 This request is at the very core of the letter brought by the Persian envoys. To lay stress on its scandalizing power, the reviser has transformed the narrative arrangement, thus offering us an example of “variation in order.”41 While in epsilon, the source of the passage, the reader was informed of the content of Darius’ letter only when it was read to Alexander during the reception of the ambassadors, in dzēta, the substance of his message is specified at the very opening of the episode. To justify his request, Darius insists on Alexander’s inability to exert power because of his young age. He also announces that a Persian administrator will govern Macedonia during Alexander’s minority. Next, the author of the dzēta recension returns to the epsilon scenario, and relates the arrival of the Persian delegation in Macedonia (not a group of several men, but Kandarkouses alone).42 As in epsilon, the messenger (ἀποκρισ[ι]άρης) has to bow before Alexander’s spear, before receiving permission to meet the king himself. The detail of the first stage of the reception is somewhat more complicated than in epsilon. The Persian visitor is first taken by the Macedonian grandees (ἄρχοντες) in front of Ptolemy43 the “voivode” (βοηβόντας) who, in turn, takes him before the “protostrator” Antiochos 39 This occurred to John V Palaiologos and his son Manuel II, who had to campaign with the sultan in 1373, and again in 1390: see Doukas, Historia Turco-Byzantina, 13.1 and 4, ed. V. Grecu (Bucharest, 1958), p. 75.6–15 and p. 77.1–13 (= ed. D. R. Reinsch, Berlin - Boston 2020, pp. 114–16 and pp. 116–18). 40 For example, the Albanian George Kastriotis (1405–68), alias Skanderbeg (“Lord Alexander”), raised in Edirne in the Muslim faith. Appointed by the sultan as a bey of Albania, he soon abandoned the Ottomans’ side and became the leader of the Albanian resistance to Turkish occupation. 41 According to Roberts’ categorization: Biblical Epic, p. 29. 42 The name “Kandarkouses” derives from “Kandaules” (used in epsilon). It illustrates the complexity of dzēta’s textual history, for it is the hellenised form of a Latin name (Candarchus). To explain such a derivation, one has to assume that a Western version of the Alexander Romance was used to complete the main source, epsilon at some stage in the transmission of the text. 43 The reappearance in dzēta of a character who was missing in epsilon implies the recourse to parallel sources – perhaps world chronicles, where Ptolemy plays an important part in the story of Alexander’s succession (see Moennig, Die spätbyzantinische Rezension * ζ, pp. 165 and 177).

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(πρωτοστράτορας). Kandarkouses is then introduced to Alexander and his high officers (πρωτοκαβαλλαραῖοι). All the administrative terms present in this passage give the account a strong Byzantine flavour. From the twelfth century onwards, “ἄρχοντες” was regularly employed to designate members of the social elite;44 “βοηβόντας,” a Greek calque of a Slavonic word, was the name given to provincial governors in the late- and post-Byzantine period in regions that submitted to the Ottoman rule.45 As for “πρωτοστράτορας,” it was used in the Palaiologan period to designate one of the highest officials of the Empire.46 Less interested than the author of epsilon in psychological niceties, the rewriter of dzēta gives little place to the description of the ambassador’s feelings, and prefers to put the emphasis on the splendour of Alexander’s throne (ἐγκοσμημένος μὲ χρυσάφιν καὶ μὲ λιθαρόπουλα τρανὰ καὶ μὲ κόκκαλα ἀλεφάντινα) and the richness of his crown (ἀπὸ λιθαρόπουλο ζάφειρον μὲ ῥεβύθι τὸ μαργαριτάρι μὲ τῆς μερσίνης τὰ φύλλα πλεμένον). His narrative has a more factual quality and he also reserves more space for dialogue. He reproduces Kandarkouses’ expression of fear in direct speech when he is asked to prostrate himself before Alexander’s spear. Conscious of the political significance of a gesture that meant Macedonians “will not stay in the power of king Darius,” the Persian messenger protests that if he does so, he will dread seeing Darius again. Yet, he must comply for Antiochos threatens him with death. In the next sequence, Alexander’s expression of anger after reading Darius’ letter is also reproduced in direct style: the young king accuses his enemy of “thinking with his feet” and claims that Macedonia is not devoid of a leader, as Darius wrongly imagines. In the following chapter, Alexander’s ironic refusal to grant Darius’ request is also quoted in direct style. He objects that a small child like himself would be unable to serve the Persian king. The chapter ends with a dialogue between Darius and Kandarkouses who accounts for his mission and, insisting on the danger Alexander is to Darius, vainly urges the Persian king to get rid of him as soon as possible, for “when one’s tooth hurts, one has to extract it soon, so as not to suffer from this pain. A small cypress must be uprooted, so that its shoots do not soon get much strength, and one has then to undergo tribulation.”47 Besides making the whole episode livelier, the important place given in dzēta to the characters’ speeches also contributes to the deterioration of the image of Darius, pictured in this late rewriting of the Romance as a true caricature. His insulting letter to Alexander appears all the more ridiculous as 44 See J.-C. Cheynet, Byzance. L’Empire romain d’Orient (Paris, 2001), p. 173. 45 See G. Veloudis, ed., Διήγησις Ἀλεξάνδρου τοῦ Μακεδόνος. Ἡ Φυλλάδα τοῦ Μεγαλεξάνδρου (Athens, 1977; reprint 1989), p. μζ᾿. 46 ODB, 3, pp. 1748–49. 47 Ch. 33.6: “Τὸ δόντι ὁποὺ πονεῖ τοῦ ἀνθρώπου, ὀγλήγορα θέλει νὰ τὸ ἐξωβγάλη νὰ μηδὲν κακοπαθῆ ἀπὸ τὸν πόνον. Τὸ κυπαρίσσι τὸ μικρὸ θέλει νὰ ἐξερριζωθῆ ὁ κλῶνος του ἐγλήγορα νὰ μηδὲν δυναμώσην πολλά, καὶ τότε μηδὲν πειράζεσαι.” (ms F).

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his treatment of the young king as an incapable child is immediately contradicted by the latter’s resolute and intelligent reaction. The fears expressed by Kandarkouses serve to suggest Darius’ tyrannical mood, and his unsuccessful recommendations at the end of the passage complete the portrait of a foolish king, both infatuated with himself and stubborn. It is possible that the author found some sort of psychological release in composing such a caricature of the Persian king, who was probably perceived by the readership as a ridiculous counterpart of the Turkish enemy. Even if the lost original of the dzēta recension may have been the work of a relatively learned author and was perhaps composed in Schrift-Koine,48 the text of the Greek reverse translation that now solely survives is undoubtedly a product of Volksliteratur, written in a low-level style and in a popular language very close to spoken modern Greek,49 though sometimes interspersed with a few purist forms.50 Such a vernacular metaphrasis must have made the fictional biography of Alexander accessible to a rather large and undemanding public.

Conclusion Although all the Pseudo-Callisthenian material is usually classified under the heading of popular literature, the changes made to the episode of Alexander’s encounter with the Persian ambassadors in the various versions of the Alexander 48 The fact that the Serbian source of the Greek reverse-translation was written in Hochsprache makes such a supposition plausible (see Moennig, Die spätbyzantinische Rezension * ζ, p. 29), as well as the many passages with a Herodotean background found in dzēta (see C. Jouanno, “Herodotean material in a Late Version of the Alexander Romance,” in Reading the Late Byzantine Romance. A Handbook, eds, I. Nilsson and A. Goldwyn [Cambridge, 2019], pp. 211–29). 49 See G. Horrocks, Greek. A History of the Language and its Speakers, 2nd ed. (Chichester, 2010), pp. 205–53. Among many other vernacular elements, in the episode of the Persian ambassadors (ms F), one can point to the regular use of the νά particle; the presence of typically vulgar conjunctions of subordination (τόμου, “when”) and prepositions (μέ instead of μετά, κοντά, ὀμπροστά); modern forms of pronouns (ὁπού, ἐμένα, ἐσέναν, ἐσᾶς, τόν, τό, ἐτοῦτο) and possessive adjectives (ὁ ἐδικός σας, τὸ ἐδικό σου, τοὺς ἐδικούς μου); the negative δέν (derived from οὐδέν); vernacular forms of εἰμί (ἔναι/εἶναι, ἦτον/ἦτο); the use of the syllabic augment -ἠ (ἤφερεν, ἤστεκε, ἠπῆρεν); the external augment in compound verbs (ἐσυναπάντησε, ἐπροσκύνησε); the aorist passive in -ηκα (ἐπικράνθηκα, ἐθλίβηκα); the final -ν in 3sg. verbal forms (ἐθυμώθην); and the replacement of the dative by εἰς, followed with the accusative, or by the accusative or genitive alone. The lexicon too is markedly popular (for example, βασιλέας, “king”; παιδί, “kid”; φουσάτον “army”; μπαρμπούτα, “helmet”; κοντάρι[ν], “spear”; ἐμορφάδα, “beauty”; ὀμμάτια, “eyes”; ποδάρια, “feet”; δόντια, “teeth”; πιττάκι[ν], “letter”; ταξίδι, “travel”; σελλίν, “seat”; μερία, “side”; λιθαρόπουλα, “gems”; ῥεβύθι, “peas”; προυνά, “plums”; κυπαρίσσι “cypress”; ἐσίμωσεν, “approach”; μουδιάζουν, “irritate”; προβοδίσης, “send back”; ἐξωβγάλη, “extract”; σαράντα, “forty”; ἔτζι, “so”; and ἐγλήγορα/ὀγλήγορα, “quickly”). 50 The frequency of purist elements differs in each new copy of dzēta, whose linguistic form thus appears somewhat instable. According to U. Moennig, Zur Überlieferungsgeschichte des mittel- und neugriechischen Alexanderromans, Neograeca Medii Aevi 2 (Cologne, 1987), p. 49, the language in ms F is more uniformly popular than in E.

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Romance show that we have to work with rewritings whose linguistic and stylistic peculiarities cover a large spectrum and which presuppose audiences with heterogeneous levels of competence.51 One could perhaps wonder if the notion of “metaphrasis” is really fitting for the revising process at work in the conservative versions of the Romance as well as in the innovative ones. The examples investigated above will have shown, we hope, that even small changes in form and content modify the whole meaning of a text, so that the image of Alexander undergoes subtle variations in each new version of the episode of his encounter with the Persian ambassadors, even in “conservative rewritings.” If the term “metaphrasis” is also relevant to describe the most innovative versions of the Romance, in spite of its definition as ἑρμηνείας ἀλλοίωσις τὴν αὐτὴν διάνοιαν φυλάττουσα,52 it is because of the loose conception ancient and medieval rhetorical theories had of the “content” of a literary work. The fact that it was viewed as a mere outline53 allowed a “metaphrasis” to become a complete new work, with its own aesthetic and cultural agenda.

51 The question of expected audience is fundamental to any discussion of linguistic variation, as remarked in the present volume by S. Wahlgren, “Byzantine Chronicles and Metaphrasis.” However, in the case of the Alexander Romance, there are very few clues that help to specify the public concerned. 52 Ioannis Sardiani commentarium in Aphthonii progymnasmata, ed. H. Rabe (Leipzig, 1928), pp. 64–65, quoted by D. D. Resh, “Toward a Byzantine Definition of Metaphrasis,” Greek Roman and Byzantine Studies 55 (2015), 754–87, at 757. 53 See Roberts, Biblical Epic, pp. 161 and 219.

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Lev Lukhovitskiy

Emotions, Miracles, and the Mechanics of Psychology in Nikephoros Gregoras’ Lives of Empress Theophano and Patriarch Anthony II Kauleas

Introduction Nikephoros Gregoras’ (hereafter NGr) (between 1292 and 1295–c. 1361)1 hagiographical production belongs, for the most part, to the category of texts that scholars are tempted to label “Palaiologan metaphraseis.”2 The bulk of hagiography dealing with the saints of the past penned within the first hundred years of the Palaiologan epoch by Constantine Akropolites, John Chortasmenos, John Staurakios, Theodora Raoulaina, and NGr can be equated to Symeon Metaphrastes’ Menologion and, indeed, calls for the coining of a specific term.3 Yet this corpus is poorly edited and, by and large, understudied. The term “hagiographical metaphrasis” will be used throughout this chapter only in the broadest sense of the word: a new text concerning a saint of the past, which draws from an already existing source-text (or source-texts), featuring the same holy man/woman. Any attempt to narrow this vague definition risks blurring a clear borderline between these compositions and other emblematic types of metaphrastic reworking – namely, Symeon Metaphrastes’

1 PLP 4443; H.-V. Beyer, “Eine Chronologie der Lebensgeschichte des Nikephoros Gregoras,” Jahrbuch der Österreichischen Byzantinistik 27 (1978), 127–55; I. Paraskeuopoulou, Το αγιολογικό και ομιλητικό έργο του Νικηφόρου Γρηγορά, Βυζαντινά κείμενα και μελέτες 59 (Thessaloniki, 2013), pp. 27–32. 2 M. Hinterberger, “Hagiographische Metaphrasen: Ein möglicher Weg der Annäherung an die Literarästhetik der frühen Palaiologenzeit,” in Imitatio – aemulatio – variatio. Akten des internationalen wissenschaftlichen Symposions zur byzantinischen Sprache und Literatur, Wien, 22.-25. Oktober 2008, eds, A. Rhoby and E. Schiffer, Veröffentlichungen zur Byzanzforschung 21, Denkschriften der philosophisch-historischen Klasse 402 (Vienna, 2010), pp. 137–51, at 138. 3 A.-M. Talbot, “Hagiography in Late Byzantium (1204–1453),” in ARCBH, 1, pp. 173–95. Metaphrasis in Byzantine Literature, ed. by Anne P. Alwis, Martin Hinterberger and Elisabeth Schiffer, Studies in Byzantine History and Civilization, 17 (Turnhout, 2021), pp. 155–174 FHG10.1484/M.SBHC-EB.5.123043

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team’s rhetoricizing rewritings of saints’ lives in the late tenth century and the simplifying historiographical projects of the fourteenth century.4 This borderline is evident if one takes two aspects into consideration. First, Palaiologan hagiographers did not mean to systematically replace their sources. At times, it is true that Akropolites could become overconfident and aspire to surpass Symeon Metaphrastes.5 NGr could also be quite harsh towards his predecessors. For instance, his version of the Praise of Constantine the Great (BHG 369) was supposed to be a true “purified” history of Constantine free from distortions brought by his – for him, less reliable – predecessors.6 Neither of them, however, had in mind an integral systematic collection with clear criteria for the selection of source-texts and a well thought-out work schedule. Indicatively, no term such as “pre-Palaiologan” (on the model of “pre-Metaphrastic”) exists to denote those hypothetical texts, which, after being used during the Palaiologan period as sources for rewriting, came out of fashion and henceforth ceased being copied. The reason is that there were simply no (or very few, at the most) such texts. Both cases I deal with below are indicative in this respect. The tenth-century life and praise by Nikephoros the Philosopher (hereafter VAnt1)7 used by NGr to produce his version of the life of Anthony (hereafter VAnt2)8 is attested in at least two sixteenth-century manuscripts, namely Vatican City, Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana, MS Ottob. gr. 92 and Meteora, Barlaam Monastery, MS 150.9 The same holds true for the source-text of NGr’s life/oration on Theophano (hereafter VTh2).10 The tenth-century anonymous life of Theophano (hereafter VTh1)11 occupies an important place in fourteenth-century materika manuscripts.12



4 M. Hinterberger, “Between Simplification and Elaboration: Byzantine Metaphraseis Compared,” in Textual Transmission in Byzantium: Between Textual Criticism and Quellenforschung, Lectio 2, eds, J. Signes Codoñer and I. Pérez Martín (Turnhout, 2014), pp. 33–60. 5 Hinterberger, “Hagiographische Metaphrasen,” p. 146. 6 M. Hinterberger, “Die Konstantinsvita im Späten Byzanz: Vorläufige Ergebnisse einer Gegenüberstellung palaiologenzeitlicher Metaphrasen,” Graeco-Latina Brunensia 16.2 (2011), 41–59, at 54. 7 BHG 139 edited in P. L. M. Leone, “L’Encomium in patriarcham Antonium II Cauleam del filosofo e retore Niceforo,” Orpheus, n.s. 10.2 (1989), 404–29. 8 BHG 139b edited in P. L. M. Leone, “La Vita Antonii Cauleae di Niceforo Gregora,” Nicolaus, n.s. 11 (1983), 3–50. 9 On which see A. Ehrhard, Überlieferung und Bestand der hagiographischen und homiletischen Literatur der griechischen Kirche von den Anfängen bis zum Ende des 16. Jahrhunderts. 1. Teil: Die Überlieferung, 1 (Leipzig, 1937), pp. 570–73 and 3 (Leipzig, 1939), pp. 83–85 respectively. 10 BHG 1795 edited in E. Kurtz, Zwei griechische Texte über die Heilige Theophano, die Gemahlin Kaisers Leo VI, Zapiski Imperatorskoj akademii nauk po istoriko-filologicheskomu otdeleniju 3.2 (Saint Petersburg, 1898), pp. 25–45. 11 BHG 1794 edited in E. Kurtz, Zwei griechische Texte, pp. 1–24. 12 C. Rapp, “Figures of Female Sanctity: Byzantine Edifying Manuscripts and Their Audience,” Dumbarton Oaks Papers 50 (1996), 313–44, at 317 and 336.

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Second, linguistic recasting was hardly ever the primary objective of the Palaiologan hagiographers. The metaphrastic shift often also meant a transposition from one genre subcategory to another (from life to praise13 or vice versa), the elimination of major plot lines,14 and/or the fusing of texts that belonged to different hagiographical dossiers into one narrative.15 If we were dealing with stylistic transposition only, it would be unlikely to encounter a pair of texts separated by only a decade and concerning the same saintly figure so different in narrative structure and polemical agenda. The way John Staurakios narrates the story of the iconophile martyr Theodosia by no means resembles the way her story is retold by his contemporary Constantine Akropolites.16 Similarly, NGr, Chortasmenos, and Akropolites, in effect, tell their readers very different stories about Constantine the Great.17 In contrast with Symeon Metaphrastes,18 Palaiologan hagiographers did not work as a team under the unified terms and conditions of an imperial commission. Each and every text came into being under unique circumstances, which, in the most fortunate cases, can be elucidated by explicit statements in its introductory section or in other writings by the same author, for example, in his/her letter-collection.19 New texts about older saints were composed on the author’s own initiative or under terms of commission, either known or

13 The case of the Praises of Constantine the Great by NGr and Akropolites (BHG 368) drawing on earlier lives: Hinterberger, “Konstantinsvita,” 49–50. See also M. Hinterberger, “Hagiographical Enkomia as Metaphrasis in the 14th Century: Some Preliminary Observations,” in Metaphrasis: A Byzantine Concept of Rewriting and Its Hagiographical Products, The Medieval Mediterranean 125, eds, S. Constantinou and C. Høgel, with the assistance of A. Andreou (Leiden, 2020), pp. 285–323, at 287–304. 14 Thus the line of the brothers Theodore and Theophanes Graptoi, which occupied an important place in the source-life BHG 1296, is omitted in the Life of Michael the Synkellos by NGr (BHG 1297): L. Lukhovitskiy, “Nikephoros Gregoras’ Vita of St Michael the Synkellos: Rewriting Techniques and Reconstruction of the Iconoclast Past in a 14th cent. Hagiographical Metaphrasis,” Jahrbuch der Österreichischen Byzantinistik 64 (2014), 177–96, at 186–88 and 195. 15 NGr turns what claims to be a martyrdom of Kodratos (BHG 358) into a story of the three successive generations of Corinthian martyrs: L. M. Leone, “La ‘Passio sancti Codrati’ di Niceforo Gregora,” Ἐπετηρὶς Ἑταιρείας Βυζαντινῶν Σπουδῶν 47 (1987/89), 275–94. 16 S. Kotzabassi, Das hagiographische Dossier der heiligen Theodosia von Konstantinopel, Byzantinisches Archiv 21 (Berlin, 2009) and E. Kountoura-Galake, “Ideological Conflicts in Veiled Language as Seen by the Palaiologan Hagiographers: The Lives of St. Theodosia as a Case Study,” in Byzantine Hagiography: Texts, Themes and Projects, Studies in Byzantine History and Civilization 13, eds, A. Rigo, M. Trizio, and E. Despotakis (Turnhout, 2018), pp. 401–18. 17 Hinterberger, “Konstantinsvita.” 18 C. Høgel, Symeon Metaphrastes: Rewriting and Canonization (Copenhagen, 2002). 19 This is the case of Constantine Akropolites: L. Lukhovitskiy and V. Zharkaya, “‘Ne nadevaj masku druga, no sudi bespristrastno’: Agiograficheskje trudy Konstantina Akropolita v ego perepiske (‘Don’t Put on a Friend’s Mask, but Pronounce an Impartial Judgment’: Constantine Akropolites’ Hagiographic Œuvre in his Letter-collection),” Vizantijskij vremennik 100 (2016), 129–44.

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unknown. They were sent as tokens of friendship and gratitude for hospitality; conceived as the means of glorifying a church institution in possession of the saint’s relics; envisaged to promote a certain political or ecclesiastical agenda;20 and memorialized a personal miraculous healing experience.21 Nonetheless, in my view, this proliferation of hagiographical production should not be regarded as chaotic and, in the following pages, I present evidence suggesting that clear authorial patterns of rewriting can be discerned not only in isolated texts but also in the hagiographical œuvre of a given writer as a whole.

The Sources In an article on the life of Michael the Synkellos, I argued that NGr is particularly sensitive to the inner world of his characters.22 In retelling his ninth-century source (BHG 1296), he omits unessential historical details, vividly depicts his heroes’ emotions, ponders on the rules of human relationships, meditates on true friendship, and unfolds monologues into dialogues. One cannot help noting, however, that the particular ways these metaphrastic shifts are introduced have different effects as far as the pace of narration is concerned. Certain changes increase dramatic tension and speed the narrative tempo, while others (mostly scientific asides on human nature in the form of γάρ-maxims),23 by contrast, analyze the emotional life of the protagonists dispassionately and inevitably decelerate the pace of narration. The descriptive and analytical passages alternate at high frequency producing a strange effect: the reader now sees what is happening through the hero’s eyes and then is forced to withdraw and observe from afar the third-person narrator dissecting the emotions of the protagonists. The shifts of the first kind facilitate the reader’s self-identification with the heroes; those of the second, on the contrary, make the distance greater. Is the case of the life of Michael unique? NGr penned two pieces of hagiography that share common features with the life of Michael but, in themselves, belong to different categories of metaphrastic rewriting. These are VTh2 and VAnt2. The former addresses the

20 E. Kountoura-Galake, “Constantine V Kopronymos or Michael VIII Paleologos the New Constantine? The Anonymous Encomium of Saint Theodosia,” Βυζαντινὰ σύμμεικτα 15 (2002), 183–94 and F. Rizzo Nervo, “Teodora Raoulena: Tra agiografia e politica,” in Syndesmos: Studi in onore di Rosario Anastasi, 1 (Catania, 1991), pp. 147–61. 21 A-M. Talbot, “Old Wine in New Bottles: The Rewriting of Saints’ Lives in the Palaeologan Period,” in The Twilight of Byzantium, eds, S. Ćurčić and D. Mouriki (Princeton, N. J., 1991), pp. 15–26. 22 Lukhovitskiy, “Michael the Synkellos,” pp. 181–86. 23 F. I. Shmit, Kakhrie-Dzhami: Istorija monastyrja Khory, arkhitektura mecheti, mozaiki narfikov (Kariye Camii: History of the Chora Monastery, Architecture of the Mosque, the Narthex Mosaics), Izvestija Russkogo arkheologicheskogo instituta v Konstantinopole 11 (Sofia, 1906), p. 274.22–24; p. 276.27–28; and p. 278.1–7.

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empress Theophano (866/67–897),24 the latter, the patriarch of Constantinople, Anthony II Kauleas (823/33–901).25 What unifies these sources with the life of Michael is, first, that they both deal with the distant past, namely, the ninth century, which means that the chronological gap between the character and the author is around 450 years. Second, each of them relies on one major hagiographical source (VTh1 and VAnt1 respectively), which was composed several years after the demise of the saint.26 At the same time, the particular metaphrastic procedures followed by NGr were different: whereas in the case of VTh2 he retold a life and conduct as a life and conduct,27 for VAnt2, he had to transpose a βίος σὺν ἐγκωμίῳ συμπλεγείς to the life and conduct proper. Obviously, the case of VAnt2 is more complicated because the task NGr set for himself was untypical of the general metaphrastic trend in the Palaiologan period, which presupposed a shift in the opposite direction – from lives to praises. NGr’s source, VAnt1, was authored by a sophisticated rhetorician who embellished it with appeals to the reader, elaborate metaphors, digressions, complex similes, wordplay, and classical allusions. Whereas in the case of the life of Michael and VTh2, NGr transposed his source-texts to a higher stylistic register and often resorted to rhetorical amplification to meet the aesthetic criteria of the epoch, in VAnt2, he did precisely the opposite: he supplied missing logical links, added historical explanations, and omitted both similes with the figures of the Old Testament and allusions to ancient literature. Neither VTh2 nor VAnt2 can be dated with any precision. The former is explicitly said to precede the latter,28 a proposed dating for which is before winter 1341/spring 134229 or late 1346/early 1347.30 It is likely that the “lovers

24 PmbZ 28122. 25 PmbZ 20476. 26 The relationship between the sources dealing with Theophano appear to be more complex that it has been assumed so far. There exists a Slavonic redaction, which in general lines follows VTh1, but borrows the story about Santabarenos from NGr or, more plausibly, from his unknown source: A. Kreinina, “The Life of Theophano the Empress: The Slavonic Version of an Unknown Byzantine Original,” Scrinium 7/8.1 (2011), 169–230, at 183–85 and M. Petrova-Taneva, “Sv. imperatritsa Teofana ot Konstantinopol do Tărnovo (St Theophano the Empress: from Constantinople to Tărnovo),” in Vis et sapientia: Studia in honorem Anisavae Miltenova: New Sources, Interpretations and Approaches in Medievistics (Sofia, 2016), pp. 531–57. If the latter is the case, not all discrepancies between VTh1 and VTh2 can be explained as NGr’s authorial metaphrastic choices. Yet I am more than confident that the particular fragments of VTh2 discussed below are based exclusively on VTh1. 27 VTh2 is entitled Λόγος (Oration) but, in fact, it recounts in a consistent way the whole life of Theophano from birth to death. 28 VAnt2, ll. 425–26. 29 I. Paraskeuopoulou, Το αγιολογικό και ομιλητικό έργο, pp. 95–97, following the Letters of Gregory Akindynos, ed. and trans. A. C. Hero, Corpus fontium historiae Byzantinae 21 (Washington, DC, 1983), pp. 339–40. 30 M. Hinterberger, “Les ‘Vies des saints’ du XIVe siècle en tant que biographie historique: l’œuvre de Nicéphore Grégoras,” in Les “Vies des saints” à Byzance: Genre littéraire ou biographie historique? Actes du 2 colloque international philologique “Hermeneia,” Paris, 6–8

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of virtue” (ἄνδρες ἀρετῆς ἐρασταὶ) purported to be the commissioners of VAnt231 are the brethren of the Kaleos (Kaulea, Kalliou) monastery, which was founded by Anthony and flourished in the eleventh32 and mid-fourteenth centuries.33 VTh2 was also supposedly commissioned by the convent of Saint Constantine, which, by NGr’s times, was in possession of the saint’s relics.34

“Lost” and “Gained” The first observation we make when comparing the lives in question with their sources is that the quantitative ratio between the original and the rewritten text is not one and the same throughout the whole sequence of events. As I argued elsewhere, in the life of Michael, the borderline is the beginning of Michael’s mission from Jerusalem, when he initially becomes personally involved in the iconoclastic controversy. If we compare the relative size of the parts concerned with the events before and after Michael’s departure in NGr’s version and its immediate source-text, we find that in the rewriting the events preceding Michael’s departure are narrated in twice as much detail than in the source, whereas the later events are narrated 2.7 times less fully.35 The same is true for the hagiographical dossier of Theophano. In this case, the turning point is the seventh chapter of the VTh1 (the twelfth chapter of VTh2), in which the saint reaches her fifteenth year and makes her first ethical choice, thus proving that she is ready to take full responsibility for her life as an adult.36 Only after this point does the actual action begin with the story of Theophano’s engagement to Leo VI. The events before the saint’s fifteenth year are narrated around 2.5 times more fully in the VTh2 (289 contrasting to

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June 2002, eds, P. Odorico and P. A. Agapitos, Dossiers byzantins 4 (Paris, 2004), pp. 281–301, at 283–84. VAnt2, ll. 46–52. J. Cotsonis and J. Nesbitt, “An Eleventh-Century Seal with a Representation of Patriarch Antony II Kauleas,” Byzantion 74.2 (2004), 517–26. Hinterberger, “Vies des saints,” pp. 294–95. G. P. Majeska, “The Body of St Theophano the Empress and the Convent of St Constantine,” Byzantinoslavica 38 (1977), 14–21, hypothesizes that the convent church was dedicated to Constantine the Jew (Constantine of Synada). See also G. P. Majeska, Russian Travelers to Constantinople in the Fourteenth and Fifteenth Centuries (Washington, DC, 1984), pp. 296–98. Lukhovitskiy, “Michael the Synkellos,” p. 179. Cf. similar fragments in the Life of Michael (p. 263.12–14) and VAnt2 (ll. 175–79, see below). In Gregoras’ view, childhood is separated from adulthood not by a formal “age of majority,” but by an act of independent thinking. This demonstrates that the saint possesses the gift of διάκρισις and, therefore, is indeed ready to take responsibility for his/her life. For an idea of the movable threshold of adulthood in Byzantium, see B. Caseau, “Too Young to Be Accountable: Is 15 Years Old a Threshold in Byzantium,” in Coming of Age in Byzantium: Adolescence and Society, ed. D. Ariantzi, Millennium-Studien/Millennium Studies 69 (Berlin, 2017), pp. 19–28.

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117 lines in the printed edition), whereas the subsequent events, by contrast, occupy 635 lines in VTh1 compared to 388 lines in the VTh2. What does this ratio mean? It appears that NGr is more interested in what precedes the story, not in the story as such. Hence the elements that are “lost in translation” should be sought in the historical section of the metaphrasis, while the “gained” ones are located in the stereotypical introductory passages (concerning the saint’s ancestry, birth, and early years), which presumably consist almost exclusively of hagiographical topoi. In what follows, I offer a close parallel reading of the two pairs of paragraphs from these introductory sections: first, from VTh1 and VTh2 dealing with the childlessness of the saint’s parents; second, from VAnt1 and VAnt2 concerning the saint’s childhood.

Theophano’s Parents’ Childlessness In the first case, the source-text runs as follows: οἳ καὶ καλῶς τῷ βίῳ ἐνδιατρίψαντες φόβῳ θεοῦ καὶ πίστει τὴν ἑαυτῶν εὐγένειαν συνετήρησαν· ἤσχαλλον δὲ καὶ ἐποτνιῶντο, παιδὸς αὐτοῖς μὴ ὑπάρχοντος· καὶ τὴν ἁπάντων κυρίαν καὶ μητέρα τοῦ κτίστου εἰς βοήθειαν ἐπεκαλοῦντο καὶ νύκτωρ καὶ ἡμέρας τὸν ἐκείνης θεῖον νεὼν τὸν ἐν τοῖς Βάσσου τιμώμενον κατελάμβανον καὶ λιταῖς καὶ δεήσεσι τὴν θεομήτορα ἐλιπάρουν, δοθῆναι αὐτοῖς τέκνον αἰτούμενοι εἰς γένους διαδοχὴν καὶ εἰς βίου συγκλήρωσιν.37 [The future parents of the saint] lived justly and preserved their nobility in the fear and faith of God and yet they were distressed and wept because they did not have a child. They called upon the Lady of all and the Mother of the Maker to come to their aid, by day and by night they came to her honorable church in the quarter of Bassou and beseeched her with prayers and supplications, begging to give them an offspring who would continue their family line and inherit their fortune. NGr recasts this passage in the following manner: ἀλλὰ τἄλλα μὲν εὐτυχεῖς ὄντες αὐτοὶ καὶ πτωχοῖς τὸν πλοῦτον ἀμφοτέραις χερσὶν ἀπαντλοῦντες καὶ λίαν θεοφιλῶς τὸν βίον ἀνύοντες ἐδυστύχουν ἀπαιδίαν μακράν, ὃ δὴ καὶ θανάτου παντὸς ἐγίνετο τούτοις πικρότερον. “Εἰς τί γὰρ ἡμῖν (ἔφασκον) ἀφορᾷ τερπνὸν τὸ τοῦ πλούτου λαμπρὸν μηδενὸς ὄντος ἐκ τῆς ἡμῶν ὀσφύος τοῦ διαδεξομένου; εἰς τί δὲ δούλων καὶ κτημάτων πλῆθος; εἰς τί δὲ βοσκημάτων; εἰς τί δὲ πέπλων καὶ μαργάρων καὶ τρυφώντων λίθων πολυτέλεια; τέκνου γὰρ οὐ παρόντος ἐρρέτω πάντα.” τοιοῦτόν γε μὴν ἐν τῇ ψυχῇ στρέφοντες σάλον καὶ κλύδωνα θλίψεων καὶ τοιούτοις χειμαζόμενοι 37 VTh1 2, p. 2.13–18.

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κύμασι λογισμῶν καὶ νῦν μὲν εἰς ἀπογνώσεως κρημνοὺς ὀλισθαίνοντες νῦν δ’ ἐλπίδας ἐξ ἐλπίδων κυλίοντες,38 τοὺς ἀσκήσει καὶ ἡσυχίᾳ πνευματικῇ συνεζηκότας καὶ ἡλικιῶτιν κεκτημένους τὴν ἀρετὴν περιῄεσαν ἰχνηλατοῦντες συχνὰ καὶ ἄλλοτε ἄλλον ἄνθρωπον τοῦ θεοῦ πρὸς βοήθειαν τοῦ λυποῦντος ἐπεκαλοῦντο καὶ ἀνεμίμνησκον εἴ τί που παραπλήσιον ἐν ταῖς πάλαι χρόνοις ἦν γεγονὸς πρός τε νόσον καὶ ἰατρείαν πρός τε λύπην καὶ θεραπείαν. ἐπεὶ δ’ ὁ μὲν χρόνος ἐτρίβετο καὶ τὸ τῆς ἀπαιδίας δεινὸν ὁμοίως ἔχον πρὸς γῆρας ἤλαυνε μετὰ τῆς ἡλικίας αὐτῶν, πρὸς μόνην ἤδη καὶ τελευταίαν ἔβλεψαν ἄγκυραν, τὴν ἄνευ ἀνδρὸς τὸν θεὸν λόγον τεκοῦσαν ἁγίαν παρθένον. Καὶ ὅλῃ ζέσει ψυχῆς πρὸς τὸν αὐτῆς οὑτωσί πως ὀνομαζόμενον ἀφικνοῦνται τοῦ Βάσσου νεών, οὔπω τότε μοναζόντων οἰκητήριον ὄντα· ἀφικνοῦνται δὲ μελεμβαφεῖς ἐσθῆτας περιθέμενοι, διὰ τῶν ἔξω χρωμάτων τοὺς ἔνδον τῆς καρδίας ὑπεμφαίνοντες ἄνθρακας. κἀκεῖ τῇ τῆς θεομήτορος προσπεσόντες σεπτῇ καὶ θείᾳ εἰκόνι, στεναγμῶν ἀνέπεμπον καπνοὺς ἐκ μέσης τῆς ψυχῆς· καμίνου πῦρ γὰρ ἔνδον τῆς λύπης ἐπεβόσκετο τὴν καρδίαν καὶ δριμεῖαι φλόγες ἐντεῦθεν διὰ τοῦ στόματος ἀνεπέμποντο καὶ διεκόπτετο τῆς φωνῆς ὁ δρόμος αὐτοῖς· καὶ γλῶσσαν μὲν εἶχον ἥκιστα φθέγγεσθαι δυναμένην, στόμα δ’ (οἷον εἰπεῖν) ἄγλωττον διὰ τὸ τῆς ὀδύνης ὑπερβάλλον.39 Prosperous in every other respect, they ladled out with both hands their wealth to the poor and lived a God-loving life; and yet for years they suffered childlessness, which for them was more painful than death. They said: “Of what avail is this delightful splendour of wealth with no offspring to inherit it? Of what avail is a multitude of servants and treasures? Of what avail is a multitude of cattle? What about the luxury of garments, pearls, and sumptuous jewels? Without a child, let it all perish.” Thus raged the storm and tempest of sorrows in their souls, thus dashed the waves of worries against their mind. At one moment, they slid down from the cliff of despair, at the next, they entertained one hope after another and called on those who had lived a life of asceticism and spiritual tranquility and possessed virtue equal to their age. They tracked down, and implored one man of God after another to give them support in their grief and recalled to memory similar cases in the past when there had been a disease and a treatment and a sorrow and a healing. As time passed by, both the continual horror of childlessness and natural ageing hastened their senescence; therefore, they turned to the last and final anchor, the Saint Virgin who had brought forth without man the Divine Logos. With all fervour of soul, they came to her church known as Bassou – which at that time had not been turned into a monastery yet – having put on black robes to show by external colours the coal of their hearts. 38 Compare Plutarch, Pyrrhus 30.2: “ὁ δὲ ἐλπίδας ἐξ ἐλπίδων ἀεὶ κυλίνδων, καὶ ταῖς μὲν εὐτυχίαις ἐπ᾽ ἄλλας χρώμενος ἀφορμαῖς…” 39 VTh2 6–7, p. 28.26 – p. 29.18.

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There they prostrated themselves before the venerated divine image of the Mother of God and sent fumes of groaning from the depth of their souls since a fire of sorrow from a furnace within consumed their hearts and piercing flames came out from their mouths, interrupting the flow of speech, making their tongues speechless and mouths, so to say, tongueless because of the excess of pain. As we can see, the rewriting is three times more verbose than the original. So what does NGr add and why does he do this? A historian’s eye easily catches the only shift that yields a piece of solid historical data, an explanatory remark about the history of the church “tou Bassou.” One might also notice that the VTh1 is silent on the heroes’ acts of charity and that the VTh2 mentions an icon of the Mother of God while the VTh1 does not give any details on the shrine. All the rest seems to be unnecessary rhetorical amplification. Yet this impression is wrong since NGr’s additions, in effect, decisively alter the heroes’ image and provide insight into their emotional life. NGr introduces at least six significant shifts. The first is that he makes the heroes speak for themselves, substituting emotional direct speech for a dispassionate third-person narration of the original. The second is that NGr stresses the heroes’ hesitation by making snapshots of their mental state at moments of enthusiasm and despair (νῦν μὲν … νῦν δ’…). The third is that he stresses that it is not only childlessness that gnaws at his heroes but also childlessness plus natural ageing, implying that what is tolerable in youth is not bearable in advanced age. Fourthly, the saint’s parents not only mourn their grief, but also try to make sense of their situation and search for – supposedly Scriptural – precedents (ἀνεμίμνησκον εἴ τί που παραπλήσιον ἐν ταῖς πάλαι χρόνοις ἦν γεγονὸς).40 The fifth shift is that NGr’s narrative includes an escalation of dramatic tension: the heroes do not initially appeal to the Virgin but start with endless visits to other “men of God,” who can do nothing, despite their virtues and affinity to God. Thus, the Mother of God is not the first (as implied by VTh1) but the last recourse of the heroes. Note too that the imperfect forms of the VTh1 (ἐπεκαλοῦντο, κατελάμβανον, ἐλιπάρουν) are replaced in the VTh2 with the praesens historicum (ἀφικνοῦνται).41 As a result, regular visits to the church “tou Bassou” of the source are transformed into

40 Note that NGr’s heroes’ way of thinking quite often includes a resort to precedent. This is true for the orations On the Annunciation (BHG 1092n): P. A. M. Leone, “Nicephori Gregorae Oratio in annuntiationem sanctissimae Deiparae,” Δίπτυχα 4 (1986/87), 312–41, at 323.20–21 and On the Nativity and Presentation (BHG 1079): F. I. Shmit, Kakhrie-Dzhami, p. 285.27. 41 Modern scholarship is skeptical towards traditional explanations of the historical present as a stylistic device that turns “mere narrative (διήγησις) into drama (ἐναγώνιον πρᾶγμα)” (Pseudo-Longinus, On the Sublime 25, quoted after C. M. J. Sicking and P. Stork, “The Grammar of the So-Called Historical Present in Ancient Greek,” in Grammar as Interpretation: Literature and its Linguistic Contexts, ed., E. J. Bakker, Mnemosyne Supplements 171 (Leiden, 1997), pp. 131–68, at 131). According to recent surveys, the

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the visit, a crucial episode of their lives. The sixth point is that NGr adds the black garments worn by the heroes as a psychological detail, which echo their emotional state (διὰ τῶν ἔξω χρωμάτων τοὺς ἔνδον τῆς καρδίας ὑπεμφαίνοντες ἄνθρακας).42 On the whole, the reader of the VTh2 is faced with a skillfully constructed episode with dramatic tension intensified by direct speech and insights into the heroes’ way of thinking and emotional state, which is in contrast to the VTh1. Interestingly enough, information in the VTh2 that is placed immediately after the paragraph quoted above finds no direct correspondence in the VTh1. Under NGr’s pen, VTh1’s succinct phrase “δοθῆναι αὐτοῖς τέκνον αἰτούμενοι εἰς γένους διαδοχὴν καὶ εἰς βίου συγκλήρωσιν” evolves into a lengthy prayer occupying 65 lines of the modern edition.43 The prospective parents of the saint address the Mother of God with a rhetorically elaborated oration, starting with the topos modestiae and gradually developing into a colourful picture of the elements of creation (birds, fish, and plants) progenating only to present all the greater praise to the Creator. The reader is intended to gain the impression that the heroes’ childlessness separates them not merely from other men and women who are fortunate to have offspring but from the whole of creation and, above all, from God. What is a misfortune in abstracto in VTh1 becomes a deeply personal grief in VTh2. The following paragraph in the VTh2 also has no direct parallel in the VTh1, yet it is completely different from the previous one as far as the narrative techniques utilized by NGr are concerned. Instead of looking through the heroes’ eyes, he observes them from afar and dissects the psychological mechanism launched by the prayer, which helps them to overcome their trouble and find some kind of consolation: “[…] their fervent craving provided them with firm foundation, which gave them strength to believe and also forced them to see something that had not yet come into being as already present” ([…] τοῦ ἄγαν ἐφίεσθαι καθάπερ κρηπῖδάς τινας ἀρραγεῖς ὑποβαλλομένου τὰς ἀφορμὰς τοῦ πιστεύειν καὶ ὡς παρὸν ἤδη συνωθοῦντος ὁρᾶν τὸ μήπω γενόμενον).44 Thus, NGr is responsible for two additions, which correspond to two of the three keywords chosen for the title of this chapter – NGr is virtually captivated by emotions and the mechanics of psychology. If this is the case, what about the third keyword? As we are about to see, miracles, a cornerstone of hagiography, deserve much less attention. Right after the insight into the mechanics of hope, we run into a scientific digression about the nature of visions. A polemic against those who claim that incidence of historical present – at least in classical literature – “has nothing to do with an author’s wish […] to enhance the dramatic impact of his narrative” (p. 165). Yet, in our case, I am inclined to advocate the traditional view. 42 Similar imagery is found in the oration On the Nativity and Presentation, ed., Shmit, p. 283.26–30. 43 VTh2 7, p. 29.19 – p. 31.16. 44 VTh2 8, p. 31.18–20.

E m oti o n s, M i r ac l e s, an d t h e M ec hani cs o f Psycho lo gy

it is possible for a recipient of a vision to be awake when it comes seems to be more important for NGr than any factual details of the miracle itself (sixteen lines compared to four in the printed edition).45 Paradoxically, when NGr chooses to tell a miracle-story, he says nothing about what actually happens: the prospective parents “[…] had the impression that they saw a man from the church of our Lady of Bassou announce to them that their sterility would come to an end” ([…] ἄνθρωπον ἔδοξαν ἰδεῖν ἐκ Βάσσου νεὼ καὶ δεσποίνης ἐλθόντα μηνύειν τὴν τῆς στειρώσεως λύσιν αὐτοῖς).46 Where the author of the VTh1 supplies specific details to increase the degree of credibility (the reader comes to know that the man in the vision is elderly and his prophecy explicitly says that the child will be female and will have a glorious future),47 NGr plunges headlong into theory. He buries his reader under a heap of technical terms, doing his best to prove that it is only in sleep that the human mind can really become free from the haze brought by sensual stimuli and perceive clear images of the future through the πνεῦμα φανταστικόν.48 Thus, NGr uses the miracle-story of the VTh1 as a pretext to discuss a controversial theoretical issue and display his learning, yet, in doing so, he almost eliminates the element of the miraculous. Theophano is finally born and, in compliance with all the conventions of the genre, has to show early signs of future sanctity. The author of the VTh1 employs a commonplace motif: the baby’s refusal to breastfeed.49 After her mother’s demise, Theophano refuses to take anyone’s breast. Her father is at loss what to do but, at last, by a miracle, the baby accepts milk from a childless maid who is obviously not supposed to have milk of her own.50 NGr seizes on the words “distress and painful anxiety” (θλίψις καὶ μέριμνα πολυώδυνος), which describe the emotional state of the father in the VTh1, and evolves them to provide a deeper insight into his mind, incidentally omitting the miracle itself: Καὶ ὁ πατὴρ ἀχθόμενος μὲν τῇ χηρείᾳ καὶ τῷ τοῦ βρέφους ἀπρομηθεύτῳ, ἐννοῶν δ’ ὅμως καὶ συλλογιζόμενος τὰς ἐπ’ αὐτῷ τελουμένας θεοσημείας VTh2 8, p. 31.20 – p. 32.7. VTh2 8, p. 31.20–21. VTh1 3, p. 2.19–25. NGr’s interest in dreams and dreaming is well known. He composed a Commentary on Synesios of Cyrene’s treatise On Dreams between 1330 and 1332 or before May 1328. The earlier date is advocated by B. Bydén, “Nikephoros Gregoras’ Commentary on Synesius, De insomniis,” in On Prophecy, Dreams and Human Imagination: Synesius, De insomniis, eds, D. A. Russell and H.-G. Nesselrath (Tübingen, 2014), pp. 163–88, at 166–67 and 186–88). Also both he and – arguably the commissioner of the Commentary – John VI Kantakouzenos inserted dream narrations in their historical works (P. Magdalino, “The Historiography of Dreaming in Medieval Byzantium,” in Dreaming in Byzantium and Beyond, eds, C. Angelidi and G. T. Calofonos (Farnham, 2014), pp. 125–44, at 137–40). Yet, the exact relations between the fragment in question and these texts are yet to be established. 49 T. Pratsch, Der hagiographische Topos: Griechische Heiligenviten in mittelbyzantinischer Zeit, Millennium-Studien/Millennium Studies 6 (Berlin, 2005), pp. 86–88. 50 VTh1 4, p. 3.6–18. 45 46 47 48

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ἐπτεροῦτο τοῖς λογισμοῖς καὶ πάνυ λαμπρὰς ἐπ’ αὐτῇ καὶ μυστικωτέρας αὖθις ἔτρεφε τὰς ἐλπίδας καὶ μικρὸν ἢ οὐδὲν ἐχούσας τὸ ἀμφισβητήσιμον πρὸς τὰ κάλλιστα.51 The father, on the one hand, was vexed at his widowhood and the way his baby was uncared for, yet on the other, noticed and reflected upon the divine signs that surrounded her. Thus, he soared on winged aspirations and cherished bright and more secret hopes with little or no doubts that her future would be brilliant. Both cases suggest that a miracle-story in the source-text did not possess value for NGr. On the one hand, the account of what actually (for a lack of a better term to define the supernatural) happened is either reduced or eliminated; on the other, certain expressions and motifs of the source-text trigger NGr’s theoretical speculations on the mechanics of the human mind and insights into his heroes’ emotional life. Bearing this pattern in mind, we proceed to the next pair of texts in question – the two lives of Anthony Kauleas.

Anthony’s Early Signs of Sanctity and Temptations When comparing the VAnt1 and the VAnt2, a historian’s eye easily picks up those shifts that alter the image of the epoch and that indicate that NGr made use of additional sources, such as when he borrowed material for a detailed exposition of the Photian-Ignatian conflict in the VAnt2.11 and an account about the iconoclast revival under Leo V in the VAnt2.3. Yet in our case, more telling will be, once again, the most stereotyped chapters, which do not yield any essential historical data. In what follows, I offer a careful reading of a paragraph concerning the saint’s early years with particular attention to the same taglines: miracles, emotions, and the mechanics of psychology. VAnt1 runs as follows: ἄρτι δὲ τοῦ ψελλίζειν ἀρξάμενος, γλυκὺ τοῖς γεννησαμένοις, θαῦμα παρείχετο· οὐ γὰρ ὑπολαλεῖν ἄλλο τι σχεδὸν παρεῖχε τῇ ψελλιζούσῃ γλώσσῃ, πλὴν ὅσα τῆς μυστικῆς ἡμῶν λατρείας τῇ εὐλήπτῳ τέως καὶ παιδὸς ἁπαλῇ φύσει δυνατὸν ἐντυποῦσθαι καὶ τῶν χειλέων προέρχεσθαι, καὶ τοῦτο τῇ κατὰ μικρὸν αὐξήσει τοῦ σώματος ἐπίδοσιν λαμβάνον, συναυξόμενον εἶχε τὸ θαῦμα καὶ πᾶς ὁρῶν προφήτης τοῦ μέλλοντος ἐχρημάτιζεν. εἰς δὲ πέμπτον ἀναβὰς χρόνον καὶ τοὺς τῶν γραμμάτων τύπους παρὰ τοῦ ἱεροῦ πνεύματος διδασκόμενος – οὐδὲ γὰρ εἰς παιδοτρίβου φοιτᾶν τοὺς τῶν παίδων ἐπιτωθασμοὺς καὶ τὴν ἄλλην μειρακιώδη τερθρείαν ἐκκλίνων ἠνέσχετο – τὰς ἱερολογίας ἁπάσας, ὅσα μάλιστα μὴ μυστηριαζόμενα τῇ τοῦ ἱεροτελεστοῦ φωνῇ εἰς τὴν ἀκοὴν

51 VTh2 10, p. 32.25–29.

E m oti o n s, M i r ac l e s, an d t h e M ec hani cs o f Psycho lo gy

ἐκπίπτει τῶν τελουμένων, εὐφυῶς ἀποστοματίζων λοιπὸν καὶ τῶν πραγμάτων τὴν μίμησιν ὑπεκρίνετο, ἄρτον προτιθεὶς καὶ χειρίζων θυμιατήριον, ὥσπερ οὐκ ἀνεχομένης τῆς ἱερᾶς ψυχῆς μὴ καὶ ἐν τῷ ἀτελεῖ τῆς ἡλικίας ἐνεργεῖν τὰ θεῖα καὶ πρὸ καιροῦ τῆς ἀκριβείας τὰ τῆς ἀκριβείας προοιμιάζεσθαι. καὶ τοῦτ’ ἦν ἀντὶ πάσης παιδιᾶς τῷ ἱερῷ παιδὶ ἔργον καὶ σπούδασμα, ὀλίγα μὲν τῇ μητρὶ συμπαρομαρτοῦντι, τὰ πολλὰ δὲ τούτοις κατ’ ἰδίαν ἐνασχολουμένῳ. ἐπεὶ δὲ πρὸς τὴν μακαρίαν καὶ ἀγήρω μετέβη λῆξιν ἐκείνη, συνῆν τῷ πατρὶ τῶν ἱερῶν τέως ψαλμῶν τὴν μάθησιν ἐξασκούμενος. εὐκληρία δὲ φύσεως μείζω μὲν τὴν σύνεσιν τῆς ἡλικίας, ὡριμωτέραν δὲ τοῦ τῆς ἡλικίας χρόνου τὴν σωματικὴν ἐδίδου διάπλασιν ὑποφαίνεσθαι, ποριμωτέραν δὲ τοῦ καλοῦ τὴν γνώμην, ἢ ὅσον ἑκατέρῳ τούτων εἰκὸς τὸν χρόνον μετρεῖν.52 Having barely begun to babble, he presented a pleasing miracle to his parents. He let his babbling tongue murmur nothing except those words from our mysterious worship that can be imprinted into the child’s sensitive and delicate nature and depart from his lips. This habit developed gradually in accord with his bodily growth and its miraculous nature became so pronounced that everyone who saw him could prophesize his future. When he had reached his fifth year and was being instructed by the Holy Spirit about the form of letters – since he could not stand going to a teacher and avoided the gibes of other children and every other kind of childish jabber – he finely recited by heart the entire service except for those secret words pronounced by the priest and not heard by the participants of the liturgy. Furthermore, he undertook to imitate the actions: to set forth the Eucharistic bread and to handle a censer, as if his sacred soul could not stand being deprived by his minor age of the right to celebrate divine service and to submit to the discipline of the service even before the time for discipline had come. This occupation and exercise took the place of each and every game for the holy boy; he spent little time with his mother, mostly occupied with this pastime of his in private. When she had passed away to the blessed realms, he lived with his father and continued to learn the sacred Psalms; and yet a boon of nature made his sagacity deeper, his bodily constitution more mature, and his mind more inventive in good than one would reasonably expect for his age. NGr transforms the above text in the following manner: ἀλλὰ τὸν πέμπτον ἤδη τῆς ἡλικίας ἀμείβοντα χρόνον τὰ στοιχειώδη καὶ πρῶτα τῶν ἱερῶν ὁ πατὴρ ἐκπαιδεύει γραμμάτων καὶ πρὸς τὰ κάλλιστα ῥυθμίζειν ἄρχεται τῶν ἠθῶν καὶ ἀποξέειν, εἴ τι φλοιῶδες εἶχεν ἡ φύσις, καὶ ἀποκόπτειν, εἴ τι ζιζανίου δίκην παραφυόμενον ἔβλεπε τοῖς τοῦ βρέφους ἤθεσιν, ἵνα μή, τῆς

52 VAnt1, ll. 69–89.

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“ψυχῆς ἁπαλῆς” τινος οὔσης ἔτι καὶ ῥᾷστα τυποῦσθαι καὶ μεταμορφοῦσθαι δυναμένης πρὸς τὰ ἔξωθεν εἰσιόντα θεάματα καὶ ἀκούσματα, κηλῖδές τινες ἐμπαγῶσιν αὐτῇ “δευσοποιοί τε καὶ δυσέκνιπτοι” καὶ θανάτου παντὸς πικρότερον τῷ παιδὶ τὸν ὄλεθρον ἐν αὐτῷ τῷ τῆς ἡλικίας ἔαρι προξενήσωσι. ταύτῃ καὶ σφοδρῶς ἀντείχετο τῆς ἐκείνου παιδείας καὶ πάντα ἐποίει, ὁπόσα φέρει πρὸς τοῦτο, καὶ ναοῖς ἱεροῖς προσιὼν ἑπόμενον εἶχε τοῦτον καὶ τῶν ᾀδομένων προθύμως ἀκούειν παρῄνει καὶ τούτοις ὅλον προσέχειν τὸν νοῦν· ὅθεν καὶ ἤκουε καὶ προσεῖχεν ὁ παῖς καὶ τῶν ἱερῶν ᾀσμάτων ἔνια παρακατεῖχε τῇ μνήμῃ καὶ ἀπὸ στόματος ᾖδε τρανῶς, καὶ ταῦτα τῆς γλώττης ἐνιαχοῦ παραποδιζομένης ἐπὶ τοῖς βρεφικοῖς ψελλίσμασιν· οὕτως αὐτοχάλκευτον εἶχε τὴν φύσιν περὶ τὰ κάλλιστα τῶν ἐπιτηδευμάτων “ἐκ πρώτης,” ὅ φασι, “γραμμῆς” τῶν τῆς ἡλικίας βαθμῶν καὶ οὕτω γε τρόφιμον τῆς θείας φάναι γραφῆς ἐπλούτει τὴν γλῶτταν ἄνευ μαθήσεως. παιδιαῖς γὰρ καὶ ἀσχολίαις, ὅσας ἐπιτηδεύει τὰ βρέφη καὶ οἷον μανικῶς ἐπικέχηνε τὸ τῆς γνώσεως ἀτελές, χρῆσθαι καὶ αὐτὸς ὁμοίως τοῖς ἥλιξι οὐκ ἠνείχετο οὔτε χερσὶν ἐργάζεσθαι οὔτε γλώττῃ προσφέρειν, ἀλλ’ ᾐσχύνετο μάλα καὶ ἠρυθρία καὶ ἄλλων λεγόντων τε καὶ πραττόντων, ἕτερα δ’ἐμιμεῖτο σεμνότερά τε καὶ σφόδρα τῆς ἡλικίας πρεσβύτερα. τοῖς γὰρ ἱερεῦσι τὰς μυστικὰς θυσίας ἐπιτελοῦσι μετὰ πλείστης ἐνατενίζων τῆς συννοίας καὶ προθυμίας, τοιαῦτα ἅττα καὶ αὐτὸς ἀντὶ τῶν βρεφικῶν παιδιῶν ἐν τοῖς ἰδίοις ἐπετήδευεν οἴκοις καὶ ἦν τοιούτοις χαίρων ἔθεσιν εὐθὺς ἐξ ἀρχῆς καὶ παρὰ πάντων τὰ μέγιστα θαυμαζόμενος, ὅτι μεγάλην ἐν μικρᾶ τῇ ἡλικίᾳ τὴν φύσιν ἐκτήσατο καὶ αὐτοδίδακτον ἐς τὰ χρήσιμα καὶ πρεσβυτικαῖς ἁρμόττουσαν ἕξεσιν […] Ἄρτι δὲ τὸ δωδέκατον τῆς ἡλικίας αὐτοῦ παραλλάττοντος ἔτος, ἡ μήτηρ τοῦ τῇδε μεθίσταται βίου· καὶ ἦν λοιπὸν ὑποτασσόμενος αὐτὸς τῷ πατρὶ καὶ ὑπ’ αὐτῷ μόνῳ καθηγεμόνι καὶ διδασκάλῳ τὰ ἐντελέστερα τῶν ἱερῶν λογίων τελούμενος.53 When he was five years old, his father started both to teach him elementary grammar and to give shape to his character: he scraped off every natural rind and cut off every weed he noticed penetrate the boy’s disposition. He did this in order to prevent the tender soul, which could still easily undergo change and transformation under the influence of outer things seen and heard, from deep-dyed and hard to wash out stains, capable of ruining the boy’s spring of youth more bitterly than death. That is why he had an earnest care for the boy’s education and did everything to support it: he took his son along with him whenever he went to church and exhorted him to listen keenly and to turn his mind wholly to the chants. The boy did, indeed, listen and turn his mind and kept in memory some of the sacred hymns and sang them by heart clearly, despite that infant babbling at instances prevented his tongue from doing so. Thus his innate inclination for the best of all occupations became apparent – as the saying goes – from

53 VAnt2, ll. 132–69.

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the very first steps of his life and his tongue was nourished by the Divine Scripture itself without any education. The reason was that he could not stand being involved with his age-mates in games and tricks that infants are so fond of and an imperfect mind so madly looks at, but kept both his hands and tongue free from these and felt awkward and blushed whenever anyone said or did anything of the kind. By contrast, he copied other more honourable activities belonging to a much more advanced age. He had an eager and attentive eye upon the priests celebrating the mysteries and, instead of playing childish games, attempted to act at home in the same way as they do. This was his habit from the very first steps and everybody admired him greatly since, despite his early age, he possessed a remarkable nature able to imbibe the good by itself and habits of mind suiting an old man. […] As early as his age of twelve, his mother departed from this life and, from that moment on, he was cared for by his father and studied more profoundly the Sacred Scripture under the guidance and supervision of him only. The texts have a similar structure and agree in essential points: the boy, aged five, babbles the liturgy and even performs it at home as a role-play game while refraining from ordinary games. Keeping himself from the other boys’ company, the saint does not receive any proper education, but still far outstrips his contemporaries in spiritual matters. After the death of the boy’s mother, the father takes his instruction in the Scripture upon himself. Almost nothing is lost in the transfer. One may observe only that NGr chooses not to mention the exact manifestations of the boy’s role-play game. Yet many a detail is changed and several essential points are added. The most important transposition concerns the chronology of the events. In the sourcetext, the boy reaches his fifth year having already learnt the entire liturgy (τὰς ἱερολογίας ἁπάσας) by heart except for the words pronounced by the priest in the sanctuary. In NGr’s less spectacular interpretation, he merely begins to memorize some parts of the service (ἔνια παρακατεῖχε τῇ μνήμῃ). It is, after all, a rare ability, but not a miracle as such. The second shift concerns the father’s willful activities in the boy’s spiritual instruction (σφοδρῶς ἀντείχετο τῆς ἐκείνου παιδείας) and his certitude that without this guidance the boy’s soul will be affected by the ruinous influence of the outer world. What is more, he not only prevents the boy’s exposure to worldly distractions but he is also concerned with the boy’s very nature, which turns out to be imperfect and still in need of some kind of trimming (ἀποξέειν, εἴ τι φλοιῶδες εἶχεν) and weeding (ἀποκόπτειν, εἴ τι ζιζανίου δίκην παραφυόμενον). These two shifts change the entire logic of the fragment and enrich the saint’s portrait as a boy. On the one hand, the narrative is devoid of the miraculous and is more down to earth; on the other, the reader of VAnt2 (just like the father of the saint) witnesses the boy’s surprising initial success, but, at the

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same time, realizes that his inclinations make him all the more vulnerable and his path more dangerous. His nature is human, thus, by definition, imperfect, which means that he will be subject to temptations and, at least in the first stages, will need someone to help him to overcome them. The protagonist of the VAnt1, due to εὐκληρία φύσεως, is perfect from the first page onwards; the protagonist of the VAnt2 is a character in constant development. NGr’s intention is to show how the hero accomplishes this task of spiritual ascendance. At the initial stages, he is still in need of an assistant but, soon enough, becomes self-reliant. This happens when the saint “appoints himself a judge” (δικαστὴν […] αὐτὸς ἑαυτὸν ἤδη χειροτονεῖ) of every phenomenon of the inner and outer world, “picking up what is helpful for spiritual contemplation and leaving aside what is of no avail for his choice” (αὐτὸς ἐκλεξάμενος ὁπόσα πρὸς πνευματικὴν θεωρίαν ἔδοξε χρήσιμα παρέδραμεν ὅσα ἀνόνητα πρὸς τὴν ἐκλογήν).54 However, strangely enough, the significance of this pivotal moment is diminished by the following remark, which, contrary to the reader’s expectations, indicates that Anthony is not exceptional at all: “[This happened] because he had reached the age when randomness and disorder of thoughts find solidity, steadiness, and firm foundation while one’s mind becomes a wise mediator capable of rational assessment of the things seen and heard” ([…] ἐν τούτῳ γὰρ ἤδη τῆς ἡλικίας ἦν ἀναβεβηκώς, ἐν ᾧ τὸ ἀστατοῦν καὶ φερόμενον τῶν λογισμῶν πῆξιν ἤδη καὶ βάσιν λαμβάνει καὶ ἀσφαλῆ κρηπῖδα καὶ τῶν πραγμάτων ἔμφρων διαλλακτὴς ἡ διάνοια γίνεται καὶ σὺν λόγῳ διαιρεῖν τὰ φαινόμενά τε καὶ ἀκουόμενα ἱκανῶς ἔχει).55 In other words, it is simply natural for a young man of Anthony’s age to settle down and take responsibility for his decisions. The impression is that NGr cannot help providing scientific observations on human nature, even if this means that he belittles the achievements of his hero. Further on, NGr specifies that independent choice, responsibility, and constant development are required not only from a saint, but from every human being. According to NGr, “[…] the Maker of all himself creates, puts together, and keeps intact our bodily shape, yet, something more precious, I mean the education of the soul and the power to shape it, He bestowed upon us” ([…] ὁ τῶν ὅλων δημιουργὸς τὴν μὲν τοῦ σώματος πλάσιν αὐτὸς ἐνεργεῖ καὶ πήγνυσι καὶ συντίθησι, τὸ δὲ τιμιώτερον, λέγω δὴ τὴν τῆς ψυχῆς παιδαγωγίαν καὶ ἀναπλαστικὴν ἐνέργειαν, ἡμῖν ἐχαρίσατο).56 That is why no one can alter his/her bodily shape or accuse anyone of being ugly without angering God. Instead, “it is in our power to treat the illnesses [of the soul], as well as to clean and whitewash its stains” (ἐφ’ ἡμῖν ἐστι ταύτης τε ἰατρεύειν τὰς νόσους καὶ τὰς αὐτῆς καθαίρειν καὶ ἀποπλύνειν κηλῖδας).57 In the VAnt2, NGr does not take time to finesse this idea, but in the VTh2, he clarifies that what

54 55 56 57

VAnt2, ll. 175–79. VAnt2, ll. 179–83. VAnt2, ll. 238–41. VAnt2, ll. 246–48.

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really matters is the initial intention (προαίρεσις), while its implementation (πεπραγμένα) is of minor importance; the hagiographer’s duty, therefore, is to pay more attention to the former than to the latter.58 As the story goes on, the scenario recurs: NGr captivates the emotions of the reader by narrating the protagonist’s story as one of a human torn between polarities and going through agonizing inner struggle and yet, at times, he punctuates dramatic episodes by seemingly out-of-place cold asides about the mechanics of the human mind. NGr abandons his protagonist to devote many lines to the mechanics of unconsciously falling in love at first sight,59 or for a scholarly digression (with an allusion to Plato, Phaedrus 246b) on how the pursuit of glory, luxury, and carnal pleasures originates within the same “appetitive part of the soul” (τὸ ἐπιθυμητικὸν τῆς ψυχῆς) and enters through different “gates of sensual perception” (πύλαι αἰσθητηρίων).60 Highly indicative of NGr’s hagiographical method is a temptation episode, which has no parallel in the VAnt1.61 The demon of lust attacks the saint during the Easter service. Anthony succumbs to temptation, becomes sexually aroused, and has “lustful thoughts” (λογισμῶν πορνικῶν) the very moment he is about to enter the sanctuary to perform the Eucharist. But the most guileful part of the demonic stratagem is yet to be put into practice. The evil spirit fights the saint to a stalemate in which Anthony faces two equally intolerable possibilities (δυοῖν θάτερον καινοτομούμενον): he can either escape “disgrace in the face of men” (ἀνθρωπίνην αἰσχύνην) and approach the holy table with “legions of fantasies” (στρατόπεδα λογισμῶν), or remove his patriarchal robes, refrain from the service, and bring shame upon himself “in front of this majestic public assembly” (ἐπὶ τοῦ σεμνοῦ καὶ πανδήμου θεάτρου). NGr intensifies the impression of a deadlock by emphatically repeating that there is no time to decide and the bishops are already grumbling at the delay: ἐν οὕτως ὀξεῖ καὶ βιαίῳ καιρῷ / ὡς δὲ “χρόνος” παρῄει τῆς ὥρας μάλα “συχνὸς” / οὕτω λίαν ὀξεῖ καὶ στενῷ σταδίῳ καὶ χρόνῳ. The tension reaches its peak when NGr remarks that, under such circumstances, it is only natural for everyone to choose the first option. But, unexpectedly, the hero thinks beyond the two-option paradigm and breaks the rules of the game: he shamelessly “announces in a loud voice to the assembly what is happening to him” (ἐξαγγέλλει τρανῇ τῇ φωνῇ τοῖς παροῦσι τὸ πάθος). This unexpected decision turns the theatrical metaphor of the previous lines (ἐπὶ τοῦ σεμνοῦ καὶ πανδήμου θεάτρου) inside out: what was meant to be public humiliation is now the saint’s theatrical dramatic triumph as he “stages his play” (θεατρίζει τὸ δρᾶμα). NGr’s mastery in creating dramatic tension is evident. It is hence all the more striking that he does not care to sustain it. He ruins the impression he has

58 59 60 61

VTh2 2, p. 26.23–27. Discussed in detail in Hinterberger, “Vies des saints,” pp. 285–86. VAnt2, ll. 281–92. VAnt2, ll. 254–62. VAnt2, ll. 572–624.

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created with an introductory scientific remark that implies that Anthony was attacked by the demon of lust not because of his unique spiritual success but because he had “from birth a more warm balance of bodily fluids” (θερμοτέραν ἐκ φύσεως κρᾶσιν) and that all men of such type are more exposed to the attacks of lustful thoughts.62

Conclusions As we see, NGr is consistent not only in focusing on his heroes’ inner life, but also in interchanging analytical and descriptive fragments. Against what background should we consider this method? A number of parallels come to mind, yet none of them is fully convincing. Gnomic digressions on human nature are fairly common in the Hellenistic novels, in Achilles Tatius’ Leukippe and Kleitophon in particular. They are usually interpreted as a means of achieving plausibility by checking the behavior of fictional characters against the “normative statements […] of the real world.”63 Are we, therefore, supposed to accept that such a normative point of reference is appropriate in a text dealing with a holy man/woman, a figure abnormal by definition? If so, what does this tell us about the concept of holiness in Palaiologan Byzantium? Later, universal digressions started to appear in hagiographical novels.64 The most striking case is the narration of Pseudo-Neilos of Sinai, in which these gnomic asides are envisaged either to create cliffhangers by breaking the narration when the conflict reaches its most pressing point or, alternatively, to calm the reader agitated by dramatic (and frequently bloody) adventures of the heroes.65 Yet the tone of these maxims is dissimilar to NGr’s: the narrator who departs from the major plot line to brief the reader about the rules that govern the human mind and soul speaks not as a scholar but, rather, as a wise man. In many cases, the narrator himself is the protagonist of the story and his assertions acquire weight due to his experience as a fictional character.66 In NGr’s writings, by contrast, we hear the voice of an erudite

62 VAnt2, ll. 529–32. 63 J. R. Morgan, “Make-Believe and Make Believe: The Fictionality of the Greek Novels,” in Lies and Fiction in the Ancient World, ed., C. Gill and T. P. Wiseman (Exeter, 1993), pp. 175–229, at 202. 64 C. Messis, “Fiction and/or Novelization in Byzantine Hagiography,” in ARCBH, 2, pp. 313–41 and A. Narro, “The Influence of the Greek Novel on the Life and Miracles of Saint Thecla,” Byzantinische Zeitschrift 109.1 (2016), 73–96, at 80 and 84. 65 D. F. Caner, S. Brock, R. M. Price and Κ. van Bladel, History and Hagiography from the Late Antique Sinai (Liverpool, 2010), pp. 77–78. 66 K. De Temmerman, Crafting Characters: Heroes and Heroines in the Ancient Greek Novel (Oxford, 2014), pp. 179–87.

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man, well-versed in ancient science, yet, it is extradiegetic, that is, removed from the story-world of a particular life. In middle Byzantium, hagiography experienced an emotional turn. Yet in Symeon Metaphrastes’ writings, despite his dependence on the novel of Achilles Tatius67 and deep interest in psychological insights,68 there are hardly any pronounced programmatic statements comparable to those we have seen in NGr’s lives, for example, about the relative importance of προαίρεσις and πεπραγμένα. It is true that Nikephoros Ouranos and Niketas David Paphlagon also pay much attention to their characters’ emotional life; yet they offer a depiction of emotions in front of a miracle,69 not at the expense of a miracle, as is the case of NGr. In late Byzantium, NGr’s contemporary (and adversary) Gregory Palamas makes the protagonist of the oration on saint Peter of Athos “his spokesman” and, through his voice, “promotes a hesychast programme accessible to everyone.”70 NGr, on the contrary, as a hagiographer, is not prone to discuss any theological matters pertaining to the Hesychast controversy. It is true that Gregory Akindynos praises NGr for combating Palamites in the VTh2 but to our bitter disappointment, we do not know to which particular fragment Akindynos is referring.71 All our parallels, therefore, are not definitive. One could claim that NGr the historiographer influenced NGr the hagiographer and continue the search for parallels in his Roman History; however, such a discussion would clearly go beyond the scope of the present study. Nonetheless, a possible solution could be found if we pay attention not to what is “gained” but, rather, to what is “lost in translation.” NGr stands apart from the majority of hagiographers of the Palaiologan epoch responsible for the revival of miracle-storytelling.72

67 S. V. Poljakova, “Ahill Tatij u Simeona Metafrasta (Achilles Tatius in Symeon Metaphrastes),” Antichnaja drevnost’ i srednie veka 10 (1973), 267–69; I. Nilsson, “Desire and God Have Always Been Around, in Life and Romance Alike,” in Plotting with Eros: Essays on the Poetics of Love and the Erotics of Reading, ed., I. Nilsson (Copenhagen, 2009), pp. 235–60, at 256–57; and S. M. Trzaskoma, “The Storms in Theodoros Daphnopates (ep. 36), Symeon Metaphrastes (BHG 1878) and Achilles Tatius (3.1.1–5.6),” Byzantion 87 (2017), 375–88, at 378–81. 68 L. Lukhovitskiy, “Recollection, Reevaluation, Distortion: Symeon Metaphrastes’ Narrative Techniques in Retelling the History of Iconoclasm,” Byzantinische Zeitschrift 109.2 (2016), 785–808, at 797–99 and L. Franco, “Psychological Introspection and the Image of Sanctity in the Metaphrastic Menologion,” in Metaphrasis: A Byzantine Concept of Rewriting, pp. 249–69. 69 D. Krausmüller, “Fainting Fits and their Causes: A Topos in Two Middle Byzantine Metaphraseis by Nicetas the Paphlagonian and Nicephorus Ouranos,” Golden Horn 9.1 (2001–02), 4–12. 70 M. Mitrea, “Old Wine in New Bottles? Gregory Palamas’ Logos on Saint Peter of Athos (BHG 1506),” Byzantine and Modern Greek Studies 40.2 (2016), 243–63, at 259. 71 Hinterberger, “Vies des saints,” pp. 293–94. For a recent discussion of this letter, see A. Sklaveniti, Συμβολή στη μελέτη των επιστολών του Νικηφόρου Γρηγορά (Athens, 2019), pp. 259–60. 72 S. Efthymiadis, “Collections of Miracles (Fifth-Fifteenth Centuries),” in ARCBH, 2, pp. 103–42, at 125–30.

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In sharp contrast to the case of Constantine Akropolites,73 NGr’s lives and praises were never occasioned by a personal healing experience. In the VTh2, NGr does not even try very hard to mask his unwillingness to recount the posthumous miracles of Theophano and invents a feeble pretext for leaving them for another occasion – a headache (αἱ τῆς κεφαλῆς ἀλγηδόνες).74 In my view, there is a conscious authorial choice behind substituting emotions and insights into the mechanics of psychology for miracles, despite the fact that these two “gained” elements seem to be mutually exclusive. NGr overcomes the apparent contradiction between these irreconcilable techniques by making them both serve a common purpose of disposing of the miraculous. No matter how this effect is achieved – by vividly depicting or anatomizing the mental life of the hero – a miracle story acquires a human dimension. Put differently, NGr all but tells his reader: “Yes, our protagonist is a holy man (woman); yes, he (she) lived four hundred years ago, but look – I can, first, show that he (she) felt like you do, and second, prove that he (she) felt the way it was natural to feel for any human being (let me quote from a medical textbook).” This aesthetic is hard to appreciate, but we can hope that NGr’s προαίρεσις has become clearer to us.

73 Talbot, “Old Wine,” p. 18. 74 VTh2 29, p. 44.6–10.

Index*

accusative  94, 124, 129–132, 134, 144 n17, 152 n49 Achilles Tatius, Leukippe and Kleitophon  148, 172–173 adverb  85, 111, 147, 149 aesthetic 174 agenda 153 criteria 159 effect 124 predilections 22 principles 20 Alexander Poem 142–144 Alexander Romance  22, 139, 144 ancient Greek (language/ texts)  10 n8, 95, 109, 116, 137, 141, 159 Andrew of Crete  36 Anna Komnene, Alexiade 15–16, 110 n2, 112, 120–121, 125, 127; see also metaphrasis Aphthonios  44, 50–51, 54, 60, 68 article (definite)  119–120, 136, 144 n17 Asterios of Amasia  12 Athanasios of Alexandria  12 Life of Anthony (BHG 140) 32, 36 Attic/Atticism 81 declension 118, 124–125 audience  34, 57, 67, 72 n12, 76, 78, 93, 98, 100, 102, 106, 127, 137, 153 n51 Augustine of Hippo  74 authorial choice(s)  159 n26, 174 comment(s)  19, 20, 103, 121 n29, 145 n19



features 35 interventions 46 patterns of rewriting  158 voice 36 Basil II, menologion of  34–35 Batrachomyomachia 144 Callisthenes, Ps.-  140, 152 canonized author  40–41 catenae 18 chreia  10, 18 circumlocution  118–119, 124 classical  133–134, 147 allusions 159 authors 60 education 67–68 forms 133 heritage 144 language 134 learning 44 literature/texts  123, 164 n41 rhetoric 10 n6 terms 123 classicising  109, 117, 124–125 conventions 83 elements/features  124, 146 forms 119 Greek  16, 110 n2, 121 historiography 113 language  16, 120, 125 linguistic ideal  112 literature 109 particles 143

* The spelling of proper names has been guided by the conventions of the ODB.

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phenomenon 124 tendencies 17 n38 terms/words  115–116, 119, 124 text  15, 16, 112–113, 117, 124–125, 143 vocabulary  111–113; see also declassicisation classicism 103 commission/commissioner (of literary works)  33, 157, 160, 165 n48 Constantine Akropolites  14, 155–157, 174 Life of Theodosia of Constantinople (BHG 1774)  157 Miracle of Theodore (BHG 1765n) 14 n24 Praise of Constantine the Great (BHG 368)  156–157 Constantine VII Porphyrogennetos, De ceremoniis  145 n21 Corpus Parisinum (florilegium) 148 n33 Cyril of Skythopolis  36, 121–122 Life of Euthymios (BHG 647)  121–122 Life of Sabas (BHG 1608)  121 dative case  94, 97, 99, 105, 119 n20, 124, 130–134, 146, 149 n36, 152 n49 de-classicisation 20 dialogue(s) (as a rhetorical device)  72, 76–78, 84–85, 103, 105, 140–141, 151, 158 direct speech  20, 72, 76–78, 85, 141, 151, 163, 164 education  52 n17, 67–68, 110, 168–170 educational intent 103 system 10 vocabulary 16 ethopoiia 18 Etymologicum Genuinum 60 Euthymios the Athonite, Life of Barlaam and Ioasaph (BHG 224) 32

future tense infinitive  119 n20, 120 participle 120 Genette, Gérard  10, 11 n10 genitive case  132, 134 Gennadios Scholarios  16 n30 George Galesiotes  15 George Kastriotis (Skanderbeg) 150 n40 George of Alexandria, Ps.-, Life of John Chrysostom (BHG 873)  87– 107 George of Cyprus, patriarch of Constantinople 14 George of Pisidia  12 George Oinaiotes  15 George Pachymeres, History  epitome of  11, 112 n8, 121 George Synkellos  128 gnome  18 Gregory Akindynos  173 Gregory of Nyssa  12 Life of Makrina (BHG 1012)  32, 36 Gregory Palamas  173 hellenika 109–110 Hermogenes, (Ps.-) Art of Rhetoric 44 On Invention  50–51, 54 On Issues  50–51, 54, 68 Herodot/Herodotean  140, 152 n48 Hesychios, Lexicon 97 n45–47, 100 n52, 103 n61, 126 n37 hiatus  120, 143 n12 Homer/Homeric  18, 116, 124, 143–144 Ignatios Diakonos  62, 68, 69 imperfect tense  129, 131, 133, 135, 142, 163 indirect speech  20, 76, 130 (oratio obliqua), 132 (oratio obliqua) infinitive (also aparemphato) 129– 132, 136

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Jakobson, Roman  10, 11 n10 John Chortasmenos  155 Life of Constantine the Great 157 John Chrysostom  21, 87–107 John Klimakos  121 John Moschos  36 John of Damascus  89 n15 John of Sardis  13–14, 21, 38, 43–70, 148 Athlesis/Metaphrasis of Barbara (BHG 215i)  43–70 Metaphrasis of Nikephoros (BHG 1334) 43–70 John Staurakios  155 Life of Theodosia of Constantinople (BHG 1774a)  157 Julius Valerius  140 n2 koine (glossa)  16–17, 109, 113, 115, 142 literary  109–110, 112, 114, 116, 126 Schrift-Koine  142 n10, 152 written 116 Latin borrowings/loanwords  72, 85–86, 94, 112, 123 learnedness (of a text)  22, 110 Leo Archipresbyter  141 n6 Leo Diakonos  128 Leontios of Neapolis, Life of John the Alsmgiver (BHG 886)  36 Life of Symeon the Fool (BHG 1677) 36 lexica  see Hesychius, Suda, Zonaras, Ps.Life of Alexander  see Plutarch Life of Basil the Younger (BHG 263) 32 Life of John Chrysostom (Anonymus Savilii [BHG 876] and Anonymus Vatopedi [BHG 874h]  87–107 Life of Michael Synkellos (BHG 1296) 157–159 Life of Symeon the Younger Stylite (BHG 1689)  121

Life of Theodora of Alexandria (BHG 1727) 122 Life of Theophano (BHG 1794)  155– 174 manuscripts Hagion Oros Mone Iveron 381: 55 Mone Vatopediou 73: 91 Meteora Mone Varlaam 150: 156 Milan, Biblioteca Ambrosiana gr. Q 76 supr.: 55 Munich, Bayerische Staatsbibliothek gr. 108: 91 Moscow, Rossijskaja Gosudarstvennaja Biblioteka Acad. Theolog. F. 173. I 281 (gr. 23): 58 Vienna, Österreichische Nationalbibliothek hist. gr. 52: 91 n23 Paris, Bibliothèque nationale de France gr. 1452: 13 n18, 45, 47 n10, 53, 61; 1458: 45, 61; 1708: 128, 133 Coislin 258: 32 n11; 387: 53, 61 Thessalonica Mone Vlatadon 4: 90 Vatican City, Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana Barb. gr. 517: 45 n7 Ottob. gr. 92: 156 Ottob. gr. 118: 128, 133 Palat. gr. 1: 40 n41 Vat. gr. 105: 52 n18; 566: 32 n11; 826: 32 n11; 1147: 14 n24; 1589: 32 n11; 1613: 34; 1190: 74 n26 Venice, Biblioteca Nazionale Marciana gr. I, 47: 58; 408: 139, 142 Martyrius of Antioch, Ps.-, Funerary speech on John Chrysostom (BHG 871) 89

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Maximos Confessor, Ps.-, Loci communes  148 n33 Maximos Planoudes  14 metaphrasis of Anna Komnene’s Alexiade  121, 142 n10–11, 147 n30 and 32 metaphrasis of Nikephoros Blemmydes’ Basilikos Andrias 121, 142 n11 metaphrasis of Niketas Choniates’ History  110–120, 142 n10 Methodios, patriarch of Constantinople  32, 148 Michael Psellos  36, 39–40, 71, 86, 128, 130–131 Michael Synkellos  68, 157 n14, 158 morphology 109–110, 119, 125, 129, 133, 144 mouvance 39 mythos  10, 18 narrator  21, 35–37, 40–41, 102 n60, 158, 172 narratorial “I”  40 Neilos of Sinai, Ps.-  172 Nikephoros Blemmydes, Basilikos Andrias  15, 112, 121, 127; see also metaphrasis Nikephoros Gregoras  14, 22, 155–174 Life of Anthony Kauleas (BHG 139b)  22, 155–174 Life of Michael Synkellos (BHG 1297)  157 n14, 158–159 Life of Theophano (BHG 1795) 155–174 On the Annunciation (BHG 1092n) 163 n40 On the Nativity and Presentation (BHG 1079)  163 n40, 164 n42 Passion of Kodratos (BHG 358) 157 n15 Praise of Constantine (BHG 369) 156–157

Nikephoros Ouranos  14, 17–18, 20 n52, 173 Life of Symeon the Younger Stylite (BHG 1690)  121 Nikephoros the Philosopher, Life and praise of Anthony Kauleas (BHG 139) 155–172 Nikephoros the Presbyter, Life of Andrew the Fool (BHG 115z)  32 Nikephoros Xanthopoulos  121 Niketas Choniates, History 15–16, 21, 109–120, 124–125, 127, 142 n10; see also metaphrasis Niketas David the Paphlagonian  13– 15, 23, 38, 40–41, 60, 173 Life of John Chrysostom (BHG 876k) 87–107 Praise of John Chrysostom (BHG 881c) 88 n7 Niketas Magistros  40 Niketas of Ankyra  55–60, 66 optative  83, 119, 131, 142–143, 146 oratio obliqua  see indirect speech Palladius, Dialogue on the life of John Chrysostom (BHG 870)  89 paraphrase  10, 15, 46, 51, 113 n9, 127 parataxis  73, 81, 132 particles  105, 111, 130–131, 142, 147 classicising 143 Passion of Blasios (BHG 276)  121 Passion of Gurias, Samonas, and Abibos (BHG 731–32) 121 Passion of James the Persian (BHG 772a–c, 773d)  71–86 Passion of Plato (BHG 1549–50)  85 perfect tense  120, 124, 131, 143, 146 perfect participle  149 n36 phonology 129 Photios, patriarch of Constantinople  56, 60, 66, 89, 90 Phyllada Megalexandrou  139 Plato, Phaedrus 171

i nd e x

pluperfect tense  95, 119–120, 124–125, 131, 146 Plutarch, Life of Alexander 140–141 preposition(s)  131, 152 n49 with accusative  94, 97, 134 with genitive  105 progymnasmata  40, 50–51, 54; see also Aphthonios Prokopios 18 proverb 75 register (linguistic)  10, 19, 68, 72, 83, 97, 99–100, 109–110, 117, 119, 121, 142, 159 Rimada (Alexandrou)  139, 141–142, 144–145 scholia 60 Homeric 18 Socrates 74 Sophronios 36 Sozomenos 74 spoken language  109–110, 126, 152 standardised language/ standardisation of language  16, 21, 30, 35, 37–41, 106, 127 Stephen the Deacon, Life of Stephen the Younger (BHG 1666)  72 n9, 121, 124 n33 Suda, lexicon  60, 94–97, 99, 126 Symeon Logothetes  12, 43 chronicle  22, 127–137 Symeon Metaphrastes  9–41, 43–44, 60, 71–126, 120, 127, 155–157, 173 Life of Euthymios (BHG 649) 121–122 Life of Hilarion (BHG 755)  73, 85, 86 Life of John Chrysostom (BHG 875) 87–107 Life of Nikephoros (BHG 1332) 43–70 Life of Sabas (BHG 1609)  121–122 Life of Stephen the Younger  84 n44, 121, 124 n33

Passion of Anastasios Perses (BHG 85) 121 Passion of Barbara (BHG 216) 43–70 Passion of Blasios (BHG 277)  121 Passion of Gurias, Samonas, and Abibos (BHG 736–38)  121–122 Passion of James the Persian (BHG 773) 71–86 Passion of Plato (BHG 1551– 52)  73, 75 n27, 84–85 Syntipas  121 Tarasios, patriarch of Constantinople  12, 13, 44, 62, 64 n57, 68–69 Theodora Raoulaina  155 Theodore Daphnopates  91 Theodore Stoudites  19, 32, 44, 53, 55, 59, 62–64, 67, 69, 148 Theodoret of Cyrrhus  74 Theophanes the Confessor  18, 128, 157 n14 Theophylaktos Simokates  18 topicalization 135 verb  79–81, 85, 90, 95, 118, 123–125, 134, 147 n29 and 32, 148 compound  73, 100 n54, 118–119, 123–124, 152 n49 finite  129, 131 -μι verbs  118, 129, 144 n17, 146 vernacular  112–113, 116–117, 127, 142, 144, 147, 152 vocabulary  16, 17 n36, 22, 91 n25, 94, 100, 103, 109–126, 136, 144, 147 juridical 83 popular  144 n17; see also classicising; Latin loanwords Zinos, Demetrios  144 Zonaras, Ps.-  126 n37 Zumthor, Paul  39

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