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The Chora is one of the most celebrated churches built in Constantinople during the Byzantine era (330–1453). It is particularly famous for its glorious mosaics and frescoes, mostly dating to the fourteenth century, which are a particularly fine example of Late Byzantine art. After the Ottoman conquest of Constantinople in 1453 the church was repurposed as a mosque, known as the Kariye Camii. Between 1945 and 2020 it had another incarnation, as the Kariye Museum, but then in 2020, in line with changing Turkish governmental policies, it again became a mosque. This Element sets out the history of the building, presents its artwork, and considers how best to interpret its construction, significance, and meaning. Above all, it offers an insight into images and words that are currently inaccessible to the general public.
Great changes have taken place in the approach of historians to the topic since the publication of East of Byzantium (1980). Instead of centre-periphery or top-down models they now see the relations between Byzantium and the east in terms of connectivity, networks and horizontal ties. This is connected with the spread of late antiquity as a concept and includes a great expansion in Syriac studies. Late antiquity now embraces the emergence of Islam and looks towards Eurasia; another challenge is posed by the rise of global history. But these developments, with the new focus on the fall of the western empire, raise major problems of identity for Byzantium itself, and indeed for western Europe.
Cities seem to form when state population surpasses 10,000. Over 5000 years, top city populations have remained 0.1−0.5% of world population. The square root law of city population: The largest city population tends to be hundred times the square root of state population. This law held from 3000 BCE to 1800 CE. Constantinople exemplifies it from 400 to 1800. It no longer holds, as the economic reach of major cities surpasses international borders.
This chapter addresses the subject of sex in Constantinople in the sixth century CE, the heart of the Eastern Roman Empire. It draws on a range of rich evidence. A fundamental starting point is provided by the writings of the contemporary historian Procopius, in particular his comments in Secret History on the life and deeds of the empress Theodora, wife of the emperor Justinian I (527–565), who was an actress before marrying her husband. In addition it draws on the legislation of the emperor Justinian, the chronicle of John Malalas, erotic epigrams of the period, and Christian ascetic literature. From these writings strong ideals of right and wrong sexual behaviour emerge, revealing both traditional Roman values and the increasing Christianisation of society. This can create the impression that sexual activity was very tightly controlled, especially prostitution, extra-marital sex, and same-sex sex. However, it is apparent that life was less clear-cut. Justinian himself recognized that desire was a powerful impulse and that people did ‘sin’. It is also evident that people could enjoy thinking about illicit sex, and engage in it enthusiastically. Ironically, overtly Chistian texts could even incite the desire they sought to neutralize.
While the Europe-wide cultural impact of the fall of Constantinople to Sultan Mehmed II is well known, its political reverberations in the Holy Roman Empire have received comparatively little attention. This article argues that the events of 1453 inaugurated a new dynamic in the empire that facilitated the polity's consolidation and the creation of new collective institutions within it long before Maximilian I (1486–1519), whose reign is often presented as a constitutional turning point. Some prince-electors had been calling for more effective peace-keeping and judicial institutions for decades before 1453 but lacked the leverage to compel kings and emperors of the Romans to accept political change on their terms. The fall of Constantinople provided a focal point for these negotiations: in return for promising to support an anti-Ottoman crusade, the reformists were able to force a compromise on new peace-keeping legislation at the diets of the 1450s and 1460s. This compromise was catalyzed by public pressure. There was a widely held expectation that leading imperial protagonists should fulfill this mission to defend Christendom, manifested in orations, diplomatic missives, poetry and songs, plays, and early printed pamphlets produced within and for a range of German-speaking public spheres.
This article focuses on three Byzantine capitals acquired by Edwin Freshfield and later donated to the church of the Wisdom of God in Lower Kingswood, which provide us with two ways to see through Byzantium. The first looks at their original Constantinopolitan context lost at the time of their acquisition. The second reflects on how Byzantine materials attracted wealthy Western European collectors, who combined antiquarian curiosity with the quest for the authentic Christian faith. Their privileged status allowed them both to possess these witnesses of the sacred past and even to project their own image to posterity as being analogous to that of Byzantine patrons.
The Church of St. Polyeuktos is one of the most magnificent, but also most peculiar architectural achievements in Byzantine Constantinople. The accidental rediscovery of the building during construction work in Istanbul in the 1960s is legendary and considered one of the most sensational finds in Byzantine archaeology. Built by the aristocrat Lady Anicia Juliana, the reconstruction of the structure and the interpretation of its strange forms continue to challenge scholars today. The building gave rise to a whole series of archaeo-historical narratives, in which the City's byzantine protagonists and major monuments were woven into a coherent plot. This Element on the archaeology of St. Polyeuktos takes a closer look at these narratives and subject them to critical examination. In the end, the study of St. Polyeuktos will tell us as much about Byzantine architectural history in the second half of the twentieth century as about early Byzantine architecture itself.
This chapter explores the displacement of knowledge following the First World War in two ways. First, it focuses on the displacement of people, specifically the Russian refugees displaced by the civil war in the early 1920s. It shows how thousands of intellectuals were combed out of the wider body of displaced people and relocated in sites across Europe and the wider world. Second, the chapter looks at how other forms of intellectual capital were displaced following post-war treaties and the redrawing of international borders, such as Hungarian institutions that found themselves ‘displaced’ in Czechoslovakia and Romania. Arguments about the displacement of knowledge demonstrated how individuals, institutions, and even modes of thinking were portrayed as synonymous with certain national identities in order to effect political change. The chapter explores the tension between the nationalization of knowledge and its simultaneous claims to universalism.
This chapter argues that the military and political history and prosopography of the early fifth century cannot be reconciled with the existence of the Notitia system. Specifically, the military challenges the east Roman empire faced during this period, most notably Alaric’s depredations in the Balkans, Gaïnas’ revolt in Asia Minor, and attempts to prop up the struggling western empire, all point to a systemic under-militarization in the east that forced Constantinople to rely heavily on barbarian manpower, often with calamitous results. By the 420s, we find evidence for a gradual remilitarization taking place in the east, which set the stage for the major reforms of the 440s.
This chapter demonstrates that all of the available evidence indicates that the Notitia system was rapidly put into place in the 440s, likely in response to the invasions of Attila the Hun on the Danubian border. Although designed to face down the threat of the Huns, the system continued to operate as the collapse of Attila’s kingdom put increasing pressure on the eastern empire, in particular in the form of Theoderic Strabo and Theoderic the Amal, two Gothic warlords who repeatedly ravaged the Balkans and assaulted Constantinople during this period. Placed in its proper context, many central features of the Notitia system become intelligible, in particular its strong Balkan focus and the function of the praesental armies, which were used as reserve forces.
The Roman emperor ruled one of the largest empires in world history. It consisted of different peoples living in wildly different contexts. They had different expectations of who the emperor was and how he should behave, although the range of those expectations was limited. Views of emperorship were locally dependent. The image of the emperor was not the same throughout the empire, and was often closely bound to his visibility in and his relationship with a specific region. How emperors were represented through statues, historical reliefs, triumphal arches, temples and other monuments, and through the ceremonies that surrounded emperorship, had an enormous impact on how the people who encountered these monuments or participated in these ceremonies perceived their emperors. As the number of monuments accumulated over time, they created an increasingly stable local ‘memoryscape’. Existing imagery influenced both the creation of new local images and the expectations of imperial behaviour.
This book is the first major study of providence in the thought of John Chrysostom, a popular preacher in Syrian Antioch and later archbishop of Constantinople (ca. 350 to 407 CE). While Chrysostom is often considered a moralist and exegete, this study explores how his theology of providence profoundly affected his larger ethical and exegetical thought. Robert Edwards argues that Chrysostom considers biblical narratives as vehicles of a doctrine of providence in which God is above all loving towards humankind. Narratives of God's providence thus function as sources of consolation for Chrysostom's suffering audiences, and may even lead them now, amid suffering, to the resurrection life-the life of the angels. In the course of surveying Chrysostom's theology of providence and his use of scriptural narratives for consolation, Edwards also positions Chrysostom's theology and exegesis, which often defy categorization, within the preacher's immediate Antiochene and Nicene contexts.
The Sultanate drew upon concepts of martial skill, valor and aggression attributed to the Mongol Imperium and its unprecedented conquests. While idealizing these traits, Mamluk Sultans exploited them to thwart Mongol expansion into their territories. They welcomed renegades from Mongol armies (Wafidiyya) to mimic their prowess while limiting their aggression. Mamluk cadets were imported initially from the Qipjaq Steppe in Central Asia, subsequently from Circassia in the Caucasus, with numerous other regions represented. They were instructed in Arabic, Turkish and Islam prior to being trained in arms. The Mamluk military hierarchy consisted of elite Mamluks imported as cadets in the Sultan’s service, Mamluks of senior officers, soldiers of former rulers restive over their loss of status, and descendants of 1st-generation Mamluks who served as infantry and assimilated into Arabic civil society (awlad al-nas). Advancement through the military hierarchy was marked by endemic factional rivalry in which conspiracy was expected not repudiated. Whether conspiracy enhanced the Sultanate’s military prowess or destabilized its governance remains a debated issue.
The status of Rome vis-à-vis the Roman empire is analyzed. Fears that it might be replaced and the imperial capital would be transferred are reported from the first century BC onward. Foundation myths suggested that Rome originated in the East, in Troy, and it was suspected that the capital might move back to the East. These suspicions did not materialize for centuries but became reality under Constantine with the refoundation of Byzantium as Constantinople. The choice of Constantinople as (eastern) capital may not have been a matter of course from the start. Other cities seem to have been considered first, and it is not certain why it was chosen. Furthermore, there is no contemporary evidence that Constantine always conceived his new foundation as the eastern capital of the empire, or that he intended that it should replace Rome. Claims, made first by Christian authors, that Constantine’s city was conceived from the start as the new or second Rome and also as a purely Christian city cannot be confirmed. The city actually took time to develop into an imperial capital. The city became the undisputed centre of the late Roman empire only in the reign of Theodosius I.
From its foundation in the fourth century, to its fall to the Ottoman Turks in the fifteenth, 'Constantinople' not only identified a geographical location, but also summoned an idea. On the one hand, there was the fact of Constantinople, the city of brick and mortar that rose to preeminence as the capital of the Roman Empire on a hilly peninsula jutting into the waters at the confluence of the Sea of Marmora, the Golden Horn, and the Bosporos. On the other hand, there was the city of the imagination, the Constantinople that conjured a vision of wealth and splendor unrivalled by any of the great medieval cities, east or west. This Companion explores Constantinople from Late Antiquity until the early modern period. Examining its urban infrastructure and the administrative, social, religious, and cultural institutions that gave the city life, it also considers visitors' encounters with both its urban reality and its place in imagination.
The status of Rome vis-à-vis the Roman empire is analyzed. Fears that it might be replaced and the imperial capital would be transferred are reported from the first century BC onward. Foundation myths suggested that Rome originated in the East, in Troy, and it was suspected that the capital might move back to the East. These suspicions did not materialize for centuries but became reality under Constantine with the refoundation of Byzantium as Constantinople. The choice of Constantinople as (eastern) capital may not have been a matter of course from the start. Other cities seem to have been considered first, and it is not certain why it was chosen. Furthermore, there is no contemporary evidence that Constantine always conceived his new foundation as the eastern capital of the empire, or that he intended that it should replace Rome. Claims, made first by Christian authors, that Constantine’s city was conceived from the start as the new or second Rome and also as a purely Christian city cannot be confirmed. The city actually took time to develop into an imperial capital. The city became the undisputed centre of the late Roman empire only in the reign of Theodosius I.
The Hippodrome of Constantinople was constructed in the fourth century AD, by the Roman Emperor Constantine I, in his new capital. Throughout Byzantine history the Hippodrome served as a ceremonial, sportive and recreational center of the city; in the early period, it was used mainly as an arena for very popular, competitive, and occasionally violent chariot races, while the Middle Ages witnessed the imperial ceremonies coming to the fore gradually, although the races continued. The ceremonial and recreational role of the Hippodrome somehow continued during the Ottoman period. Being the oldest structure in the city, the Hippodrome has witnessed exciting chariot races, ceremonies glorifying victorious emperors as well as the charioteers, and the riots that shook the imperial authority. Today, looking to the remnants of the Hippodrome, one can imagine the glorious past of the site.
This chapter is mainly concerned with the political ideology, norms and behaviour associated with the Byzantine monarchy. It focuses on how the ceremonial and hierarchies of power played out in Constantinople, assessing contemporary expectations of the role and conduct of the emperor. Such expectations were often revealed most clearly in time of instability, as contemporary accounts of coups indicate. The chapter outlines the ceremonial life of the court and discusses the sacred and secular topography of Constantinople as the stage for the continuous display of elite power. The visual and non-verbal qualities to Byzantine ceremonial culture are stressed, as is the centrality of law to imperial authority, political office and spatial organisation. The principal imperial hierarchies of power (military, civil and clerical) and the relationship of the emperor and patriarch are explored, with women and eunuchs seen as integral to the workings of official hierarchies. Alternative concepts of power began to emerge in the later period, when the empire’s territorial integrity was eroding, yet the long-term resilience of traditional ideology, ceremonies and hierarchies is noteworthy.
After the recapture of Constantinople (1261) artistic production in Byzantium experienced a recovery. In the capital of Byzantium itself this period is marked by the mosaic panel of the Deesis in the Hagia Sophia. This work constitutes a ‘one-off’ in Byzantine art. This fact poses a series of questions concerning the dating, the creator and the patron of the mosaic, as well as the reasons for its creation, given that no source makes any reference to these matters. The present study attempts to re-examine these issues.
This Element discusses the ancient statues once set up in Byzantine Constantinople, with a special focus on their popular reception. From its foundation by Constantine the Great in 324, Constantinople housed a great number of statues which stood in the city on streets and public places, or were kept in several collections and in the Hippodrome. Almost all of them, except a number of newly made statues of reigning emperors, were ancient objects which had been brought to the city from other places. Many of these statues were later identified with persons other than those they actually represented, or received an allegorical (sometimes even an apocalyptical) interpretation. When the Crusaders of the Fourth Crusade conquered the city in 1204, almost all of the statues of Constantinople were destroyed or looted.