Grau ————— Greek, Roman, and Byzantine Studies 63 (2023) 447–465 ISSN 2159-3159 Article copyright held by the author(s) and made available under the Creative Commons Attribution License CC-BY https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/ Theodora, a (not so) Holy Harlot: Procopius’ Secret History and the Hagiographic Narrative Sergi Grau ROUND 550,1 shortly after Theodora’s death, Procopius of Caesarea wrote a controversial work, the inter- pretation of which has strongly influenced the modern view of Theodora herself, of emperor Justinian, of their empire, and of their entire era: the Anekdota or Secret History (Historia ar- cana), as it is commonly called among scholars.2 The author ruthlessly attacks Justinian and Belisarius, his celebrated general, along with their wives, Theodora and Antonina. The elements that make up this critique, however, and especially the moti- vations behind it, have been and still are the subject of debate among scholars. The most conspicuous problem is that Pro- copius constructed, in the Anekdota, a portrait of Theodora very different from the image of her conveyed in the Wars. Although 1 The dating possibilities for the Anekdota are 550/1, according to J. Haury, Procopiana (Augsburg 1991), B. Rubin, Prokopios von Kaisareia (Stuttgart 1954) = RE 23 (1957) 273–599, Av. Cameron, Procopius and the Sixth Century (London 1985), G. Greatrex, “The Dates of Procopius’ Works,” BMGS 18 (1994) 101– 114, J. A. S. Evans, “The Dates of Procopius’ Works: A Recapitulation of the Evidence,” GRBS 37 (1996) 301–313, J. Signes Codoñer, “Prokops Anecdota und Justinians Nachfolge,” JÖB 53 (2003) 47–82, and A. Kaldellis, “The Date and Structure of Prokopios’ Secret History and His Projected Work on Church History,” GRBS 49 (2009) 585–616; or 558/9, according to B. Croke, “Procopius’ Secret History: Rethinking the Date,” GRBS 25 (2005) 405–431, of which I consider the former more plausible. 2 For a good summary of the issues see G. Greatrex, “Perceptions of Pro- copius in Recent Scholarship,” Histos 8 (2014) 77–82. A 448 THEODORA: A (NOT SO) HOLY HARLOT ————— Greek, Roman, and Byzantine Studies 63 (2023) 447–465 discussions about the historicity of these images have been going on for decades, a consensus now seems to have been reached about Theodora’s historical involvement in political and ec- clesiastical affairs, thanks largely to consultation of other sources, particularly epigraphic: Theodora, as expected of women at the imperial court, appeared alongside her husband in aulic rituals, and financed hospitals, monasteries, and churches; likewise, her role in the rescue of poor girls sold by parents to brothels seems credible.3 The portrayal of Theodora in the Secret History has been interpreted—I believe rightly—as a very traditional attempt to undermine the husband’s reputation by attacking the wife’s character and manners.4 The sources of this literary construc- tion of Theodora have been highlighted in several studies:5 it is clear that Procopius used all his classical background to sharpen his pen in portraying Theodora in the most acerbic way possible. In this paper, however, I would like to focus on an aspect which, 3 See A. McClanan, Representations of Early Byzantine Empresses. Image and Empire (New York 2002) 93–110. 4 See E. A. Fisher, “Theodora and Antonina in the Historia Arcana: History and/or Fiction?” Arethusa 11 (1978) 253–279; P. Allen, “Contemporary Portrayals of the Byzantine Empress Theodora,” in B. Garlick et al. (eds.), Stereotypes of Women in Power: Historical Perspectives and Revisionist Views (New York 1992) 93–104; and McClanan, Representations 107–117. 5 See notably Rubin, Prokopios 310–324; F. Bornmann, “Su alcuni passi di Procopio,” StIt 20 (1978) 27–37; Cameron, Procopius 37–46; M. Vinson, “The Christianization of Slander: Some Preliminary Observations,” in C. Sode et al. (eds.), Novum Millennium. Studies on Byzantine History and Culture dedicated to Paul Speck (London 2001) 415–424; J. Signes Codoñer, Procopio de Cesarea, His- toria secreta (Madrid 2000) 110–111; L. Brubaker, “Sex, Lies and Textuality: the Secret History of Prokopios and the Rhetoric of Gender in Sixth-Century Byzantium,” in L. Brubaker et al. (eds.), Gender in the Early Medieval World. East and West, 300–900 (Cambridge 2004) 83–101, at 86–87; A. Kaldellis, Prokopios. The Secret History with Related Texts (Indianapolis 2010) xxxv–xl; G. Greatrex, “L’historien Procope et la vie à Césarée au vie siècle,” in Le monde de Procope/The World of Procopius (Paris 2018) 15–38; S. Grau and O. Febrer, “Procopius on Theodora: Ancient and New Biographical Patterns,” ByzZeit 113 (2020) 769–788. SERGI GRAU 449 ————— Greek, Roman, and Byzantine Studies 63 (2023) 447–465 I believe, has not yet been studied to its full extent and which constitutes a new rhetorical element, not taken, this time, from the classical παιδεία, but related, instead, to a contemporary genre: the hagiographic narrative. 1. Theodora’s portrait as a frustrated hagiographic story Theodora, as is well known, is a saint, commemorated with (and after) Justinian, in the Orthodox tradition—celebrated on 14 November—and her life would fit well within the conventions of a hagiographic sub-genre that flourished precisely in Pro- copius’ time: that of the repentance and conversion of prosti- tutes, called usually “holy harlots” by recent scholars.6 The outlines of these hagiographic accounts are usually quite similar, although with notable narrative variations: a girl, after a life of lust and sexual depravity of varying length, is converted through the intervention of some minister of God—or by the divinity without intermediaries, as happens to Saint Mary of Egypt—and radically changes her life, through repentance and sharp peni- tence, to attain sainthood. All cases—which are basically four lives: Mary of Egypt, Pelagia of Antioch, Mary of Syria, and Thaïs—are texts that can be dated to the fifth century, with Syriac, Greek, and Latin traditions. The clearest comparison for Theodora is with Saint Pelagia, a 6 See B. Ward, Harlots of the Desert (Kalamazoo 1987), which adds English translations of the Latin versions of the lives. The phrase has become popular among scholars and in the most important studies, such as those of R. Mazo Karras, “Holy Harlots: Prostitute Saints in Medieval Legend,” JHSex 1 (1990) 3–32; L. L. Coon, Sacred Fictions: Holy Women and Hagiography in Late Antiquity (Philadelphia 1997) ch. 4 (“God’s Holy Harlots: The Redemptive Lives of Pelagia of Antioch and Mary of Egypt”); V. Burrus, The Sex Lives of Saints. An Erotics of Ancient Hagiography (Philadelphia 2004) ch. 4 (“The Secrets of Seduc- tion: The Lives of the Holy Harlots”). It is also worth bearing in mind the objections of P. Cox Miller, “Is there a Harlot in this Text? Hagiography and the Grotesque,” Journal of Medieval and Early Modern Studies 33 (2003) 419–435, who prefers to consider this hagiographic sub-genre as a grotesque element that manifests the problems of early Christianity in constructing a represen- tation of female sanctity. 450 THEODORA: A (NOT SO) HOLY HARLOT ————— Greek, Roman, and Byzantine Studies 63 (2023) 447–465 famous mime actress from Antioch who undergoes a sudden conversion when she hears a homily by Bishop Nonnus and then decides to give all her wealth to the Church, to be baptized, and to retire to a cell, disguised as a eunuch monk. The author of this life—who participates in the plot and explains it in the first per- son as a direct witness—is a certain James, a deacon of Bishop Nonnus himself, who cannot be identified and therefore cannot be dated with any certainty. In fact, there is a considerable con- sensus among critics that this account of Pelagia is pure fiction constructed from several elements:7 St. John Chrysostom, in his Homily 67 on the passage from Mt 21:12–328 (PG 58 636–637), refers to an actress famous in Phoenicia, Cilicia, and Cappa- docia who had many lovers and even romanced the brother of the empress, but, in the midst of her success, converted to Christianity, entered a monastic community, and refused to see her lovers ever again. It is plausible that the author of St. Pelagia’s life took advantage of this edifying account to construct his story and gave the protagonist the name of a virgin martyr, Pelagia of Antioch, of whom Ambrose explained that, at the age of fifteen, she proclaimed that she never wanted any man to touch her in life, or even to defile her with his eyes (Epist. 37). In any case, the original text of this Life of Saint Pelagia must have been written in Greek, but the oldest surviving version is a Syriac translation that can be dated to about the fifth century.9 At the beginning of the story, Pelagia—with the artistic name 7 See still H. Delehaye, Les légendes hagiographiques (Brussels 1905) 223–230. H. Usener, Legenden der heiligen Pelagia (Bonn 1879) XX–XXIV, even saw a transposition of Aphrodite herself, since Pelagia, literally “seafaring/of the sea,” is one of the usual epithets of the goddess. The relationship to the ancient Greek novel was also highlighted by Z. Pavlovskis, “The Life of St. Pelagia the Harlot: Hagiographic Adaptation of Pagan Romance,” ClassFol 30 (1976) 138–149. 8 αἱ πόρναι προάγουσιν ὑµᾶς εἰς τὴν βασιλείαν, prostitutes “lead” or “teach” the way to the kingdom of God—it depends on our interpretation of the verb προάγω. 9 See S. P. Brock and S. A. Harvey, Holy Women of the Syrian Orient (Berkeley 1987) 40–41. SERGI GRAU 451 ————— Greek, Roman, and Byzantine Studies 63 (2023) 447–465 Margarita, in Syriac Marganito, “pearl”—walks in all her splendor before a group of assembled bishops who are struck by her beauty and must turn their faces away so as not to sin in thought (James the Deacon, Life and Behavior of Our Holy Mother Pelagia 4–5):10 Τοῦ δὲ ἁγίου πνεύµατος λαλοῦντος διὰ τῶν χειλέων αὐτοῦ πρὸς ὠφέλειαν καὶ σωτηρίαν πάντων τῶν ἀκουόντων, ἰδοὺ ἄφνω παρέρχεται δι’ ἡµῶν ἡ πρώτη τῶν µιµάδων Ἀντιοχείας· αὕτη δὲ ἦν καὶ ἡ πρώτη τῶν χορευτριῶν τοῦ ὀρχηστοῦ. Καὶ διέβη καθη- µένη εἰς βαδιστὴν µετὰ πολλῆς φαντασίας κεκαλλωπισµένη ὥστε µὴ φαίνεσθαι ἐπ’ αὐτῇ πλὴν χρυσίου καὶ µαργαριτῶν καὶ λίθων τιµίων· τὰ δὲ γυµνὰ τῶν ποδῶν αὐτῆς διὰ χρυσίου καὶ µαργαριτῶν περικεκόσµητο· καὶ πολλὴ φαντασία τῶν παίδων καὶ τῶν κορασίων τῶν µετ’ αὐτῆς, φορούντων ἱµατισµὸν πολυτελῆ καὶ µανιάκια χρυσᾶ, καὶ τοὺς µὲν αὐτῆς προτρέχοντας, τοὺς δὲ ἐπακολουθοῦντας. Τοῦ δὲ περικειµένου αὐτῇ κόσµου καὶ τοῦ ὡραϊσµοῦ οὐκ ἦν κόρος µάλιστα τοῖς δηµοχαρέσιν ἀνθρώποις. Αὕτη διελθοῦσα δι’ ἡµῶν τὸν ἀέρα ὅλον ἐπλήρωσε τῆς εὐωδίας τοῦ µόσχου καὶ τῶν µύρων τῶν ἐπ’ αὐτῇ. And, while the Spirit was speaking through his [Nonnus’] lips for the profit and salvation of all who heard him, there suddenly passed through our midst the chief of the mime actresses of Antioch: she was, in fact, the first dancer of the theatre. And she rode along on a donkey, dressed in a very showy manner, so much so that she seemed to have nothing on her but gold, pearls and precious stones;11 the bare feet were also adorned with gold and pearls; and there came with her a great throng of boys and girls, wearing very luxurious clothes and gold necklaces, some running before her and some following her. Of the adornment and fresh- 10 Ed. B. Flusin, “Βίος καὶ πολιτεία τῆς ὁσίας µητρὸς ἡµῶν Πελαγίας,” in P. Petitmengin (ed.), Pélagie la Pénitente: Métamorphoses d’une légende I (Paris 1981) 76–93, 94–130. 11 This appearance of Pelagia dressed only in jewels and gold is reminiscent of the presentation of Babylon as a great prostitute, which represents idolatry and lasciviousness, in Rev 17:4. However, the fact that she is shown riding on a donkey and acclaimed by a crowd of followers also recalls the entry of Jesus into Jerusalem riding on a donkey and acclaimed as king by the crowds (Mt 21:1–9). Pelagia is thus depicted here as a true figure of the Antichrist. 452 THEODORA: A (NOT SO) HOLY HARLOT ————— Greek, Roman, and Byzantine Studies 63 (2023) 447–465 ness that surrounded her, men desirous of pleasure could never tire. She passed in our midst, filling the whole air with the melody of her youth and the perfumes that anointed her. Before her conversion, Pelagia was a mime actress, which is exactly the theatrical genre practiced by Theodora, according to Procopius (Arc. 11.11–13). Throughout late antiquity, mime was a professional category usually associated with prostitution,12 probably because mime actresses performed scenes of a rather pornographic nature, built on a traditional mythological image, such as the famous goose number practiced by Theodora in the theatres (Arc. 11.20–21), which seems to be an obscene version, as some scholars have pointed out,13 of the union of Leda with Zeus transformed into a swan. The story of Theodora’s life, then, fits very well into a hagiographic story, typical of the sub- genre of the holy harlots: she is, indeed, a particularly illustrious example of an actress of mime who leaves behind her past of prostitution and pornography on stage to become a saint and, moreover, empress, the wife of her equally saintly husband Justinian. The touchpoints with hagiographic narrative of the holy harlots are not exhausted in this one topic. Their protagonists are usually women who are superior, in all respects, to the men they shock. Pelagia and Mary of Egypt are not presented as prostitutes according to the legal code in force at the time and do not even demand money in exchange for sex: they are women 12 For the social consideration of actresses at the time see C. Edwards, “Unspeakable Professions: Public Performance and Prostitution in Ancient Rome,” in J. P. Hallet et al. (eds.), Roman Sexualities (Princeton 1997) 66–95; D. R. French, “Maintaining Boundaries: The Status of Actresses in Early Christian Society,” VigChr 52 (1998) 293–318; Ch. Hugoniot et al. (eds.), Le statut de l’acteur dans l’Antiquité grecque et romaine (Tours 2004); J. A. Jiménez, Los juegos paganos en la Roma Cristiana (Treviso 2010); particularly for mime actresses see R. Webb, Demons and Dancers: Performance in Late Antiquity (Cam- bridge [Mass.] 2008). 13 B. Rubin, Das Zeitalter Iustinians I (Berlin 1960) 101. Indeed, it seems that Byzantine-era mime still staged the love affairs of the gods: see V. Cottas, Le théâtre à Byzance (Paris 1931) 39. SERGI GRAU 453 ————— Greek, Roman, and Byzantine Studies 63 (2023) 447–465 who enjoy sex and go beyond all the limits that their society imposed on women. After converting, they continue to talk to the priests from a position of clear superiority and practice their spirituality in solitude, outside of the ecclesiastical structures.14 Mary of Egypt is a free and wild spirit who gives peremptory orders, with unquestionable authority, to a priest of exalted virtue, named Zosimas, who wanted to perfect himself further in the practice of asceticism when he finds her naked in the middle of the Palestinian desert. In this respect Theodora is similar: she is therefore often criticized by Procopius because she in fact con- trols the actions of her husband, who is presented rather as a henpecked man. As a woman at that time and in that cultural context—as in so many others—she was expected to be chaste, submissive, and dependent on her husband or any man around her, with no voice or will of her own in any matter.15 Quite the opposite of these conventions, Theodora is presented as an independent and active woman in all public and private facets, with an intense sexual life radically out of keeping with the conventions of the time—exactly in the way the respective lives describe the sex- uality of Pelagia and Mary of Egypt—and, above all, dominant in all areas of her life. Already as a prostitute it was she who seduced the lovers and exhausted them sexually (Arc. 9.15): ἐς δὲ τοὺς ἐραστὰς ἐχλεύαζέ τε βλακεύουσα καὶ νεωτέραις ἀεὶ τῶν µίξεων ἐνδιαθρυπτοµένη ἐπιτεχνήσεσι παραστήσασθαι τὰς τῶν ἀκολάστων ψυχὰς ἐς ἀεὶ ἴσχυεν, ἐπεὶ οὐδὲ πειρᾶσθαι πρὸς τοῦ τῶν ἐντυγχανόντων ἠξίου, ἀλλ’ ἀνάπαλιν αὐτὴ γελοιάζουσά τε καὶ βωµολόχως ἰσχιάζουσα τοὺς παραπεπτωκότας ἅπαντας, ἄλλως τε καὶ ἀγενείους ὄντας ἐπείρα. She would joke with her lovers lying around in bed with them, and, by toying with new sexual techniques, constantly managed to arouse the souls of those who were debauched. Nor did she 14 This is pointed out insightfully by Cox Miller, Journal of Medieval and Early Modern Studies 33 (2003) 429. 15 See e.g. J. Beaucamp, Le statut de la femme à Byzance (4e–7e siècle) I (Paris 1990). 454 THEODORA: A (NOT SO) HOLY HARLOT ————— Greek, Roman, and Byzantine Studies 63 (2023) 447–465 wait for her customers to make the first pass at her; quite the contrary, she herself tempted all who came along, flirting and suggestively shaking her hips, especially if they were beardless youths. (transl. A. Kaldellis) Afterwards, as empress, no one could ever persuade her to do anything other than what she determined (15.2): ἄλλῳ µὲν γὰρ ἀναπεισθεῖσα ἢ ἀναγκασθεῖσα εἰργάζετο οὐδὲν πώποτε, αὐτὴ δὲ τὰ δόξαντα ἐπετέλει αὐθαδιαζοµένη δυνάµει τῇ πάσῃ, οὐδενὸς ἐξαιτεῖσθαι τὸν παραπεπτωκότα τολµῶντος. She never did anything because she had been persuaded or forced by another person; rather, she herself stubbornly executed her own plans with all the power at her command and no one dared even to intercede on behalf of those who had angered her. And there are numerous passages which emphasize Justinian’s submission, like Belisarius’ submission to Antonina, precisely be- cause of her influence.16 I argue that Procopius’ presentation of Theodora’s biography, therefore, has sought to construct an inversion of the hagio- graphic stories of holy harlots that circulated in Byzantium in the fifth and sixth centuries, precisely, with great success, in order to deny her any possibility of a redemptive story. This is why there is, in the Secret History, no trace of the repentance motif: Procopius is reversing this trope, as he does with so much of the regime’s Christian propaganda. 2. Other anti-hagiographic reversals in the Secret History In fact, one of the devices used most frequently and effectively by Procopius in this work is the inversion of the traits of sanctity that might halo the protagonists. Justinian’s asceticism—to cite only the most obvious example—which takes the form of fru- gality and extraordinary vespers (Arc. 8.12, 12.27, 13.28–33, 16 See particularly Allen, in Stereotypes of Women in Power 93–104. Procopius in several passages stresses with great intensity the excessive influence of these two women at Justinian’s court, to the point of making an essential motif, as noted by A. Kaldellis, Procopius of Caesarea. Tyranny, History, and Philosophy at the End of Antiquity (Philadelphia 2004) 142–150, which refers to Justinian’s reign under the title “the rule of women.” SERGI GRAU 455 ————— Greek, Roman, and Byzantine Studies 63 (2023) 447–465 14.11; Buildings 1.7.7), always respectful of the liturgical calendar —as when, in Arc. 13.29, it is said that he neither drank nor ate anything for a couple of days, especially before Easter—is of course an essential characteristic of the saints. But Procopius is careful that no one can make the usual inference: far from visibly evincing a life of holiness and devotion to God, as was usual in hagiographic narrative, his asceticism becomes a token of false εὐσέβεια, of feigned piety, and constitutes, in Procopius’ eyes, nothing less than a proof of his demoniacal nature (Arc. 12.27): Πῶς δὲ οὐκ ἔµελλεν ὅδε ὁ ἀνὴρ δαίµων τις ἀλιτήριος εἶναι, ὅς γε ποτοῦ ἢ σιτίων ἢ ὕπνου εἰς κόρον οὐδέποτε ἦλθεν, ἀλλ’ ἀµηγέπη τῶν παρατεθέντων ἀπογευσάµενος ἀωρὶ νύκτωρ περιήρχετο τὰ βασίλεια, καίπερ ἐς τὰ ἀφροδίσια δαιµονίως ἐσπουδακώς; How, indeed, could this man not have been a loathsome demon when he never drank, ate, or slept enough to satisfy the needs of a human being? He would but occasionally taste a bit of what was set before him and then stalk the palace halls at odd hours of the night. And yet, despite all this, he was infernally addicted to the pleasures of sex. Nor is Justinian’s piety denied, but rather changed in Pro- copius’ account: it is in fact a pretext for his greed, especially in his plans, shared with his wife, to annihilate mankind (Arc. 13.6– 8). Similarly, the pious works of the empress, such as the founda- tion of a monastery—eloquently named Metanoia—to keep prostitutes away from brothels and from the streets, could be interpreted as a sign of Theodora’s conversion from her former life and a desire to help the girls who were still in this sad situa- tion, in line with the hagiographic stories of the holy harlots, which proclaim, fundamentally, the infinite possibilities of for- giveness, of divine mercy, on the sole condition of sincere re- pentance as a result of their conversion: what in Greek is known as µετάνοια, precisely. In fact, Procopius himself, in the Buildings (1.9.1–10), praises the imperial determination to close brothels and take girls into monasteries. In the Secret History, however, in this as in everything else, the empress is the subject of criticism (Arc. 17.5–6): 456 THEODORA: A (NOT SO) HOLY HARLOT ————— Greek, Roman, and Byzantine Studies 63 (2023) 447–465 πόρνας ἀµέλει πλέον ἢ πεντακοσίας ἀγείρασα ἐν ἀγορᾷ µέσῃ ἐς τριώβολον, ὅσον ἀποζῆν µισθαρνούσας, ἔς τε τὴν ἀντιπέρας ἤπειρον στείλασα ἐν τῷ καλουµένῳ Μετανοίᾳ µοναστηρίῳ καθεῖρξε τὸν βίον µεταµφιέσασθαι ἀναγκάζουσα. ὧν δή τινες ἐρρίπτουν αὑτὰς ἀφ' ὑψηλοῦ νύκτωρ, ταύτῃ τε τῆς ἀκουσίου µεταβολῆς ἀπηλλάσσοντο. She rounded up more than five hundred whores who sold them- selves in the middle of the marketplace, the “three obol girls” (though one can barely live off this). She sent them to the opposite shore and locked them up in the monastery named Repentance, forcing them to put on and wear a different life and habit. But, during the night, some of them would throw themselves off the walls, escaping their involuntary conversion in that way. This account subverts the end of the hagiography of one of the most famous holy harlots, Saint Thaïs, who ends up retiring to a monastery of virgins to do penitence for her former life, after she has been converted thanks to the intervention of a desert father —either Abba Serapion, Abba John the Dwarf, or the Paphnu- tius of the Latin tradition, depending on the version. 3. Theodora’s portrait in hagiographic narrative But it is important to focus on another significant aspect: the image of Theodora in the hagiographic narrative.17 As Susan Ashbrook Harvey has pointed out, “what made hagiography important was not its capacity to convey historical facts, but rather its ability to represent the tenor of its times as people felt and experienced them.”18 The image of Theodora that emerges from the hagiographic texts, therefore, allows us to approach in a privileged way the established perception of the empress in her historical context, beyond the always complex considerations re- garding the historicity of the stories. First of all, we must consider the sixth-century Monophysite 17 The main evidence from Syriac sources has been collected and presented by S. A. Harvey, “Theodora the ‘Believing Queen’: A Study in Syriac Historiographical Tradition,” Journal of Syriac Studies 4 (2001) 209–234. 18 “Martyr Passions and Hagiography,” in The Oxford Handbook of Early Christian Studies (Oxford 2008) 603–627, at 612. SERGI GRAU 457 ————— Greek, Roman, and Byzantine Studies 63 (2023) 447–465 Yuhannan of Amida, known in the West as John of Ephesus, close to both Justinian and Theodora. He mentions her in pass- ing in his biography, written in Syriac, of Stephen and Thomas, the two deacons of Bishop Mare of Amida at the time of the persecutions in 519. Theodora plays a secondary role when she helps the two saints to continue their ascetic life thanks to her influence on the emperor. But what is most remarkable is that John of Ephesus, a clear supporter of the anti-Chalcedonians with clear sympathies for Theodora,19 states bluntly that the empress “came from the brothel”:20 [Arriving at Constantinople, Stephen found himself directed] to Theodora who came from the brothel (πορνεῖον), who was at that time a patrician, but eventually became queen also with king Justinian. Similarly, in the so-called Fredegarius’ Chronicle, an anonymous work from the seventh century, Justinian and Belisarius marry two sisters who came from a brothel (lupanar), although the empress is given the name Antonia instead of Theodora.21 Some six centuries later, on the other hand, in the Chronicle of Michael the Syrian, Justinian, after the campaign against the Persians in the eastern empire (9.20),22 came to Mabbug [Hierapolis], and there he took for his wife Theodora, daughter of an Orthodox [i.e. non-Chalcedonian] priest, who, because he was not pleased that she should mix with Chalcedonians, was not willing to give his daughter until Justinian 19 See, especially, S. A. Harvey, Asceticism and Society in Crisis: John of Ephesus and “The Lives of the Eastern Saints” (Berkeley 1990). For the biographical information on John, see 28–42, 160–165; for discussion of John’s portrayal of Theodora, see 80–91, 177–183. 20 E. W. Brooks, Lives of the Eastern Saints (PO 17 [1923]) 189. 21 Fredegarius 2.62: B. Krusch, MHG Scr.Rer.Merov. II (Berlin 1888) 85. From a philological point of view, it is worth bearing in mind the research on the work and its manuscript tradition done by R. Collins, Die Fredegar- Chroniken (Hanover 2007). 22 Ed. J.-B. Chabot, Chronique de Michel le Syrien (Paris 1899–1904); transl. S. A. Harvey, in Holy Women of the Syrian Orient (Berkeley 1987). 458 THEODORA: A (NOT SO) HOLY HARLOT ————— Greek, Roman, and Byzantine Studies 63 (2023) 447–465 made a vow that he would not compel her to accept the synod [of Chalcedon]. Theodora has already become, in the later Syriac tradition, a saintly defender of the anti-Chalcedonians from her very child- hood, the daughter of a Monophysite priest, and, moreover, in the Chronicle of 1234,23 she is “a girl of lovely appearance” (44) and “adorned with modesty and bodily and spiritual beauty” (45). Her body is as pure and innocent as the faith she professes, free from Chalcedonian influences. However, in the older tra- dition, closer to the empress, as we have seen, her past as a prostitute is openly declared. Theodora’s career as a prostitute, although some scholars have tried to reject it as a falsehood or misinterpretation,24 ap- pears in sources other than Procopius, and in sources, moreover, clearly favorable to the empress. It would have been easy, then, to fit Theodora’s life into the narrative scheme of the conversion of a former prostitute. In this regard, the late-seventh-century Coptic Bishop John of Nikiu recounts that Theodora considered the patriarch of Alexandria, Timothy, as her spiritual father (Chronicle 90.87).25 It could be conceived that the stay in Alexan- dria in the company of Bishop Timothy would have determined a personal and spiritual evolution of Theodora, as did Bishop Nonnus in the story of Saint Pelagia, and she would then have left behind her life linked to the theatres and, perhaps, to the 23 Ed. J.-B. Chabot, Chronicon anonymum ad annum Christi 1234 pertinens II (Louvain 1937); transl. Harvey. 24 J. B. Bury, History of the Later Roman Empire II (London 1923) 28 n.5, claimed, in effect, that Theodora’s connection with prostitution is, alterna- tively, an interpolation or a misunderstanding of the term πορνεῖον, which would actually refer to Πόρναι, a street in Constantinople next to the theatre (Novella 105.1). D. Potter, Theodora. Actress, Empress, Saint (Oxford 2015) 39, is of the opinion that the word πορνεῖον “may actually be referring to her past as an actress,” although at 46 he presents a teenaged Theodora who had to supplement her income “with money she could make by taking lovers.” It seems rather better to understand πορνεῖον as a brothel: apart from being clearly simpler, it fits the narrative much better. 25 Ed. H. Zotenberg, La Chronique de Jean, évêque de Nikiou (Paris 1883). SERGI GRAU 459 ————— Greek, Roman, and Byzantine Studies 63 (2023) 447–465 prostitution that was usually related to them, to become the future holy empress. Furthermore as empress: she rescued girls sold into prostitution by their poor parents, paying them off and closing the brothels (Malalas 18.23–25 Thurn); she founded a monastery for the former prostitutes (Procop. Buildings 1.9); ac- cording to the most favorable sources (John of Nikiu 93.3) she even eradicated prostitution throughout the whole world. In fact, as has been often pointed out, not even Procopius, with all his hostility, accuses her of infidelity to her husband once she is married. His attack must therefore necessarily follow other rhetorical paths: as he cannot denigrate her in any other way, Procopius chooses to enhance and amplify her career as a prostitute and the domination of men that this past allows her to exercise even later at Justinian’s court, constructing the details with classical parallels that the learned readership must have immediately identified. But, on the other hand, in order to avoid the easy association of Theodora’s life story with the hagio- graphic genre of the holy harlots, he subverts the traditional narrative parameters to reveal—as is usual in all the Secret History —the real motives behind attitudes and deeds that might seem virtuous and typical of a saint. 4. A very special case: the Life of Anastasia the Patrician However, not all contemporary hagiographic sources present this kind of portrait of the empress. I would like to conclude these reflections on the narrative construction of Theodora’s image in contrast to the hagiographic accounts with a reference that has been neglected by scholars, at least to my knowledge, and which seems to me particularly significant. In the Life of Saint Anastasia the Patrician (Περὶ τῆς πατρικίας Ἀναστασίας, BHG 79–80E), at- tributed to Saint Daniel of Scetis,26 it is explained that (BHG 79 26 Ed. B. Dahlman, Saint Daniel of Sketis: A Group of Hagiographic Texts (Uppsala 2007), which clearly improves upon the edition of L. Clugnet, Vie (et récits) de l’abbé Daniel le Scétiote (Paris 1901). For discussion of textual trans- mission and manuscripts see Dahlman 42–46 and 90–110. All of Abba 460 THEODORA: A (NOT SO) HOLY HARLOT ————— Greek, Roman, and Byzantine Studies 63 (2023) 447–465 = 62–69 Dahlman): αὕτη πρώτη πατρικία ἦν τοῦ παλατίου, καὶ ὁ βασιλεὺς Ἰουστι- νιανὸς ἠθέλησε λαβεῖν αὐτὴν εἰς τὸ παλάτιον διὰ τὴν πολλὴν σύνεσιν αὐτῆς. µανθάνει οὖν ἡ Θεοδώρα καὶ ἀγανακτεῖ καὶ ἐβουλεύσατο ἐξορίσαι αὐτήν. γνωστὸν δὲ αὐτῇ γέγονε τὸ πρᾶγµα καὶ νυκτὸς µισθωσαµένη πλοῖον ἐπάρασά τινα τῶν πραγµάτων αὐτῆς καταλαµβάνει τὴν Ἀλεξάνδρειαν καὶ κατοικεῖ εἰς τὸ Πέµπτον. ἐν οἷς καὶ µοναστήριον συνεστήσατο καὶ λέγεται τῆς Πατρικίας ἕως τῆς σήµερον. She [Anastasia] was a patrician lady of the highest rank of the royal court, and the emperor Justinian wanted to take her into the palace because of her great intelligence. But Theodora learnt of it and was annoyed and decided to exile her. But this matter be- came known to her and she hired a ship at night, took some of her possessions and reached Alexandria and settled at Pempton. There she also founded a monastery which is called the Mon- astery of the Patrician Lady to this day. (transl. Dahlman, slightly modified) After Theodora died, in 548, the story continues (70–79): πάλιν µανθάνει ὅτι βουλεύεται ὁ βασιλεὺς µεταστείλασθαι αὐτήν. αὐτὴ δὲ ἔφυγε νυκτὸς ἀπὸ Ἀλεξανδρείας καὶ ἦλθεν ἐνταῦθα πρός µε καὶ ἀνέθετό µοι πάντα καὶ παρεκάλεσε δοῦναι αὐτῇ κελλίον ἔξω τῆς Σκήτεως. καὶ ἔδωκα αὐτῇ τὸ σπήλαιον τοῦτο. καὶ µετηµφιάσατο τὸ ἀνδρικὸν σχῆµα. ἴδε οὖν ἔχει σή- µερον εἰκοσιοκτὼ ἔτη ἐν τῇ Σκήτει, καὶ οὐδεὶς ἔγνω τὰ εἰς αὐτὴν εἰ µὴ σὺ καὶ ἄλλος εἷς. πόσους οὖν µαγιστριανοὺς ἔπεµψεν ὁ βασιλεὺς ἀναζητῶν αὐτήν, οὐ µόνον δὲ ἀλλὰ καὶ ὁ πάπας καὶ πᾶσα ἡ Ἀλεξάνδρεια. καὶ οὐδεὶς ἔµαθεν ἐν ποίῳ τόπῳ ἐστὶν ἕως τῆς σήµερον ἡµέρας. She again learnt that the emperor was planning to send for her. But she fled from Alexandria at night and came here to me [Abba Daniel] and confided everything to me and asked me to give her a cell outside Scetis. I gave her this cave and she changed her clothes for a man’s. Now, today she has been in Scetis for twenty- eight years [576?] and nobody has learnt about her except for you and one other. How many officials the emperor sent in search of Daniel’s dossier, with translations from all versions, is in T. Vivian, Witness to Holiness. Abba Daniel of Scetis (Kalamazoo 2008). SERGI GRAU 461 ————— Greek, Roman, and Byzantine Studies 63 (2023) 447–465 her, and not only him, but the patriarch too of the whole of Alexandria! Yet nobody learnt where she was until today. This account of Anastasia the Patrician belongs to a set of short narratives that are usually included in most manuscripts of the life of Abba Daniel of Scetis. In this case, all the tale about Ana- stasia is explained by Daniel to his disciple after he notices, at the very moment of preparing her corpse for the burial, that she is a woman, not a eunuch as she was supposed to be. It is commonly accepted that Abba Daniel was a sixth-century priest and monastic superior (ἡγούµενος) of Scetis, modern Wadi al-Natrum, to the northwest of Cairo. The materials about him, written originally in Greek, can be dated to as early as the seventh century, although many translations survive, with multiple changes and rewritings—as is usual in this kind of hagiographic narrative—in Coptic, Ethiopic, Syriac, Armenian, Latin, Arabic, Georgian, and Old Church Slavonic. Of course, as has been pointed out by many scholars, the Daniel dossier must be considered rather a collection of edifying fables, all of them sharing the theme of secret holiness,27 rather than a narrative with any historical element.28 Anastasia has been explicitly identified as a deaconess connected to Bishop Severus of Antioch (ca. 465–540) at the end of the Syriac version of her 27 That is, “early stories about persons, who are called ‘secret (or hidden) servants’ (κρυπτοὶ δοῦλοι),” in the sense that they are secret servants of God who conceal their sanctity in foolishness, drunkenness, or simply they live apart from the world, and nobody could discern their holiness, except Abba Daniel himself: see Dahlman, Saint Daniel of Sketis 71–74. 28 See particularly M. Bonnet, review of Clugnet, Vie (et récits) de l’abbé Daniel, ByzZeit 13 (1904) 166–171, at 166; D. J. Chitty, The Desert a City: An Introduction to the Study of Egyptian and Palestinian Monasticism under the Christian Empire (Oxford 1966) 146; T. Orlandi, “Daniel of Scetis,” in The Coptic En- cyclopedia III (New York 1991) 692; Brock and Harvey, Holy Women 142. Vivian, Witness to Holiness 17–25, is more optimistic about the historicity of at least some characters and events of these stories, but it is simply impossible to assert anything in this sense. About Anastasia, H. Delehaye, “Quelques saints du propre de Naples,” AnalBoll 59 (1941) 1–33, at 32, considered that her story is clearly created by the imagination of Greek hagiographers. 462 THEODORA: A (NOT SO) HOLY HARLOT ————— Greek, Roman, and Byzantine Studies 63 (2023) 447–465 Life,29 and some letters from Severus to a deaconess Anastasia certainly survive in Syriac and Coptic.30 Van Cauwenbergh even suggested that the story simply derived from the very name of the monastery called The Patrikia’s, as an etiological account, or, alternatively, from the name of the deaconess Anastasia in the letters by the patriarch Severus.31 It is in fact very difficult, as it is usual with hagiographic narrative, to clearly demonstrate any historicity about the character. But, of course, our interest is in the image of Theo- dora in this story. And, regardless whether they are attributed to Daniel himself or to a disciple of his,32 what is interesting is that they are texts that are practically contemporary with Procopius’ Secret History, on the one hand, and, on the other, that Daniel is, like John of Ephesus, a clear opponent of the Council of Chal- cedon. It is, therefore, very significant that this story has striking parallels, for once, with Theodora’s characterization by Pro- copius’ Secret History. Firstly, it corresponds perfectly with the fear of the power of the empress to undermine the careers of her political and religious opponents, omnipresent in the Secret His- tory.33 It is, indeed, a variant of the episode in which Procopius tells the truth about the death of Queen Amalasunta, daughter of Theodoric, instigated by Theodora’s jealousy, which he had not dared to explain in the Wars for fear of the anger of the empress (16.1–7). Further to this, the description of the sexual appetites of Justinian himself are unnoticed in any text other 29 F. Nau, “Vies et récits d’anachorètes (IVe–VIIe siècles),” ROrChr 7 (1902) 604–617, 8 (1903) 91–100; transl. Brock and Harvey, Holy Women 148–149. 30 Letters 69, 71, 72: E. W. Brooks, A Collection of Letters of Severus of Antioch (PO 14.1 [1920]) 75–103, 107–117, 117–127. 31 P. Van Cauwenbergh, Études sur les moines d’Égypte depuis le concile de Chal- cédoine (451) jusqu’à l’invasion arabe (640) (Paris 1914) 26. 32 As argued by Bonnet, ByzZeit 13 (1904) 167, and Vivian, Witness to Holiness 17–25. 33 See particularly Arc. 5.8–9, 5.26–27, 16.13. SERGI GRAU 463 ————— Greek, Roman, and Byzantine Studies 63 (2023) 447–465 than the Secret History (12.27),34 where, as we have seen, Pro- copius describes the emperor’s nocturnal rages in this way, though without going into detail. Also, in a Coptic panegyric entitled The Forty-Nine Elders of Scetis (2.27),35 clearly dependent on this story about Anastasia, Jus- tinian is presented in exactly the same terms of Procopius’ Secret History: When the impious Justinian—who persecuted the holy Patriarch Severus up to the time that he went to Egypt and fell asleep there so that this country came to enjoy all his benedictions—wanted to arrange a royal marriage for her, she fled from the tyrant, that bloody emperor. She went to the great city of Alexandria and from Alexandria she went to Scetis, and she prayed over the bodies of the saints whose feast day we celebrate today. (transl. Vivian) If these references to the Life of Saint Anastasia the Patrician can be taken into consideration in the sense I propose and the usual dating of the text is correct, it would be no more and no less than the first reference to a knowledge of Procopius’ Secret History that is prior to the well-known quotation in the Suda,36 which plau- sibly depended on the excerptors of Procopius’ books working under the patronage of Constantine VII Porphyrogenitus.37 This reference would help to confirm that, with the exception of 34 Of course, they are in stark contrast to the imperial propaganda, as found in Novella 74.4, where Justinian claimed: “we know, though we are lovers of chastity […] that nothing is more vehement than erotic mania.” 35 Ed. S. de Ricci and E. O. Winstedt, “Les quarante-neuf viellards de Scété,” Notices et extraits des manuscrits de la Bibliothèque Nationale 39.2 (Paris 1910– 1911); French transl. van Cauwenbergh, Études sur les moines 14–15. 36 π 2479: [Προκόπιος] ἔγραψε καὶ ἕτερον βιβλίον, τὰ καλούµενα Ἀνέκδοτα, τῶν αὐτῶν πράξεων· ὡς εἶναι ἀµφότερα βιβλία θʹ. ὅτι τὸ βιβλίον Προκοπίου τὸ καλούµενον Ἀνέκδοτα ψόγους καὶ κωµῳδίαν Ἰουστινιανοῦ βασιλέως περιέχει καὶ τῆς αὐτοῦ γυναικὸς Θεοδώρας, ἀλλὰ µὴν καὶ αὐτοῦ Βελισαρίου καὶ τῆς γαµετῆς αὐτοῦ. 37 Following the classic and persuasive arguments of C. De Boor, “Suidas und die Konstantinische Exzerptensammlung,” ByzZeit 21 (1912) 381–424, and 23 (1914–1920) 1–127. 464 THEODORA: A (NOT SO) HOLY HARLOT ————— Greek, Roman, and Byzantine Studies 63 (2023) 447–465 the Buildings, all Procopius’ works were widely read from the seventh century onward, and not only in learned circles. As Marek Jankowiak has recently argued, against the usual opinion stated by Bertold Rubin,38 “none of this supports the idea of its [sc. the Secret History] clandestine circulation until the fortuitous rediscovery of the manuscript in the 10th century.”39 5. Some concluding remarks Procopius, thus, consciously constructed a kind of anti- hagiography of Theodora, who can no longer be, through his rhetoric, a prostitute turned saint, as in conventional hagiogra- phies of holy harlots or penitents, but an inverted saint, similar to her demonic husband Justinian. This is of course one more point among the various elements, ancient and modern, that Procopius used in his work, but the hagiographic references constitute, in an author like him, so classicizing in all respects, a particularly new and effective reference, in his context, for the absolute discrediting of Theodora. In fact, there is no lack of evidence of such a process in the hagiographic accounts closest chronologically to the empress, which do not deny Theodora’s origin as a prostitute, without this being an obstacle to her sanctity—just as is the case in the accounts of repentant prostitutes. Moreover, even some of the characteristics of her personality, such as her unsubmissive and domineering char- acter, especially by the standards that the society of the time allowed for women, also correspond to those of the holy harlots in the hagiographic tradition. But most shockingly, a contemporary hagiographic account, the Life of Anastasia the Patrician, reveals that Procopius’ Secret History is not, as is usually considered, the only text that portrays Theodora as a cruel and envious ruler, capable of exiling anyone at her whim, and her subjugated husband Justinian as a de- 38 Rubin, Prokopios 528–529. 39 M. Jankowiak, “Procopius of Caesarea and His Byzantine Successors,” in M. Meier et al. (eds.), A Companion to Procopius of Caesarea (Leiden 2022) 231– 251, at 250. SERGI GRAU 465 ————— Greek, Roman, and Byzantine Studies 63 (2023) 447–465 praved man greedy for sex with women of his court. This evidence, indeed, should make us consider that the Secret History was definitely intended to be published, in whatever manner it might have been, and that its title must rather refer to what the term ἀνέκδοτον usually meant in antiquity: a work limited to a sole private copy.40 This might be seen as the equivalent to being left unpublished, because the author did not consider it appropriate for the larger public—sometimes because it contained indiscreet or dangerous stories, which is how the term anecdote has come to its present meaning for us. The text, however, must have circulated, somehow, until it reached the circles of Constantine VII, the redactors of the Suda who registered its existence, and the Vatican manuscript which pre- served it until its discovery and publication in Lyon by Niccolò Alamanni in 1623. In any case, it is quite evident that the relationship between the Secret History and the hagiographic narrative is more inter- esting than might at first sight be imagined.41 November, 2023 Dept. of Classical, Romanic and Semitic Philology University of Barcelona / Institut Català d’Arqueologia Clàssica Tarragona s.grau@ub.edu 40 See T. Dorandi, Nell’officina dei classici. Come lavoravano gli autori antichi (Rome 2007) 83–84. 41 This work is part of the research of the project La construcción del pasado en la Grecia arcaica y clásica: mecanismos compositivos, genealogías y catálogos, directed by Jesús Carruesco and Xavier Riu, and financed by the Spanish Ministry of Economy and Competitiveness (PID2019-110908GB-I00). I would also like to thank Dr. Carmen Sánchez Mañas for bringing the text of Anastasia the Patrician to my attention for the first time.