XXXIII SPRING SYMPOSIUM OF BYZANTINE STUDIES
'Eastern
Approaches to Byzantium'
27-29 March 1999
University of Warwick
Coventry
Symposiarch: Antony Eastmond
The 33rd Spring Symposium of Byzantine Studies met to examine some eastern approaches to Byzantium. The symposium was held in the heart of England but explored the easternmost regions of the medieval Christian world. The aim of the conference was to discuss questions of transmission and transformation on the eastern frontier of the Byzantine Empire. It covered the period of the reconquest and subsequent loss of the eastern provinces, c.800 to c.1300. The papers looked at the many points of contact between the peoples of this region, and especially between the Greeks, Georgians, Armenians, Seljuks and Turkmen. Rather than to examine one aspect of this relationship in detail it sought to tease out the issues that underlay them, as ideas and peoples moved across borders. The scale of this undertaking meant that we could only scratch the surface of all the problems raised. It soon became clear how much there is still to learn. As a result papers tended to divide into two camps -- those that examined aspects of the relationship and questions of interchange etc.; and those that set out to introduce new material, which will force us to reassess many of the conclusions already reached.
Aided by pareshni (lackeys) Duncan Givans and Ian Kelso as well as the magnificent mestumretukhutsesi Sue Dibben, the organisation went very smoothly (but then you didn't see behind the scenes), and even the 'blue-tac' boys provided by Warwick 'Hospitality' managed to come up trumps when faced by the problem of projecting magnificent German 50mm slides in a university equipped only for 35mm.
Generous funding from the University of Warwick, the Hellenic Foundation and the Leventis Foundation as well as from The Society for the Promotion of Hellenic Studies and the British Institute for Archaeology at Ankara allowed costs to be kept down while at the same time enabling a good many speakers to attend from Russia, Georgia and the States, as well as France and Germany and many other parts European.
Light relief was on hand in the form of the film 'Love under Siege' a romance based on the Fall of Constantinople. All those who watched the film agreed that 1453 would never look the same again. Also the Feast was attended by an interesting but unscheduled light show run entirely by the newly installed (but not properly tested) lighting computers.
The papers are being edited at this moment by the symposiarch in time (he hopes) for publication by the next symposium; and most of the communications follow in abstract.
Antony Eastmond
University of Warwick
Symposiarch 1999
Abstracts of Communications
Jane Baun, '"The Greeks, O Father, are the Sufis!": Religious Symbiosis in Thirteenth-Century Central Anatolia'
Mevlevi Sufism undoubtedly became a potent conversionary force among indigenous Christians in later medieval Anatolia. Standard scholarly treatments commonly suggest that the Mevlevis were conversion-minded from the very start. This paper, however, proposes a different reading of the religious ecology of central Anatolia during the first half of the thirteenth century, a period of relative stability when Anatolia was shared between the Empire of Nicaea and the Seljuk Sultanate of Rum. It maintains that the founder of Mevlevi Sufism, the Konyan mystic Djalalaldin Rumi, intended and taught not conversion, but religious co-existence. The argument centres on three assertions: 1) Christianity influenced Rumi's own spiritual formation as a Muslim mystic, as well as his teaching of other Muslims; 2) Rumi taught that the 'way of Jesus' could also lead to God, and numbered practising Christians among his disciples; 3) when Rumi does criticize Christianity, his critique must be evaluated within the larger context of an often simultaneous critique of formalized Islam.
Later generations attributed numerous conversion miracles to Rumi. In the foundation document of Sufi hagiography by Aflaki, the Manaqib ul-'arifin ('Acts of the Adepts'), commissioned by Rumi's grandson, Rumi compares favourably with great missionary saints. The Mevlevis, once established as a formal order in later centuries, were indeed a missionary force. But the conversionary dynamics of later centuries should not be read back onto the thirteenth. Modern scholarship has relied heavily on the later hagiography, to the virtual exclusion of Rumi's own writings, which provide a necessary corrective. These show Rumi living in creative symbiosis with Greek Christians, not trying to convert them to Islam. The Massnavi, a collection of edifying tales, demonstrates how Rumi used Christian themes in his teaching. The Divan, a collection of mystical lyric poetry, manifests the role that Christian figures played in Rumi's contemplative life. The Fihi ma fih, a compilation of Rumi's 'table talk' or discourses, reveals how contemporary Christian issues were being discussed within Rumi's circle.
(1) That Christianity influenced Rumi's own spiritual formation and his formation of others is evident in his treatment of Christian themes, especially his reflections on Mary, John the Baptist, Jesus, and the Seven Sleepers of Ephesus. The Qur'an often provides a point of departure, but Rumi goes beyond it, both in contemplative expansion of the material, and by adding new stories, some seemingly of his own invention, some suggesting contact with contemporary Christian edifying tales. Rumi's knowledge of Christianity derived from living contact with Christians. Aflaki's biography has Rumi spending as much time wandering around town--often conversing with Christian monks and tradesmen, both Armenian and Greek--as in the madrassa teaching his Muslim followers. Rumi periodically fled the madrassa: to commune with other mystic souls, especially the monks at the St. Khariton monastery; to meditate in a sacred cave near the same monastery; to preach in homes and in the marketplace; or simply to wander, absorbed in spiritual visions. Rumi's writings document continuous engagement with a complex social and religious environment, and his followers encompassed all sorts and conditions of Konyans.
(2) Rumi's followers included Christians, who remained unconverted. It is not self-evident that to become his disciple meant to embrace Islam. Several of Rumi's interactions with Christians end with them becoming his followers-- but nothing is said about actual conversion to Islam. A venerable monk is described by Aflaki as a heartfelt disciple, while clearly remaining a Christian. In Aflaki's tale of two 'Roman' painters for whom Rumi has great affection, they are called disciples despite being Christian icon painters. Rumi teaches that the 'way of Jesus', characterized by poverty, humility, homelessness, and fasting, can also lead to God. Numerous positive statements on the 'way of Jesus' occur in his writings, as lessons for Muslims. Nowhere in Rumi's three major works are there stories which bespeak conversionary pressure from his side. Close examination of even the conversion stories recounted in Aflaki reveals that Rumi himself is never quoted as encouraging conversion. In the story of a Greek Christian architect who worked on Rumi's house, Rumi's own recorded words explicitly affirm the way of Christianity.
(3) Rumi's Discourse 29 develops one of the few sustained critiques of Christian theology in his opus, but it is not very harsh. Book V of the Massnavi criticises Christian rituals, confession, and monks at length. But these remarks appear in a wide-ranging discussion of how easily believers can be distracted from the living faith by outward forms-- a discussion in which many more Muslim examples are adduced than Christian. Legalism, philosophical learning, scrupulous attention to the letter of ritual practice: all kill the spirit of God within the believer. Taken out of context, Rumi's remarks seem to invalidate Christianity. In context, however, they form part of a larger critique of formalized religion of all persuasions. Section 13 of Aflaki's biography has been taken as a kind of missionary manifesto, describing Rumi's vocation to convert Christians, and his purposeful use of music and dancing to attract them. But even in this statement, filtered through the memory of later, conversion-minded Sufis, nothing is said of conversion to the specific truths of Islam, but only of the refreshment and conversion of hearts.
Far from wanting to convert Christians, Rumi considers them fellow seekers. On several occasions, he upholds 'the Greeks' as the true believers. Typical is the story in Book I of the Massnavi of a competition between Greek and Chinese artists, which the Greeks win by polishing a wall so that it reflects the Chinese painting with dazzling radiance. Overcome, the judge exclaims, 'The Greeks, O father, are the Sufis!' Certainly many Greeks did become Sufis, but not because of any partisan programme on Rumi's part. Rumi's brand of mystical Islam may have made it easier for his Greek followers to take the next step and become Muslims. But in Rumi's own lifetime, the pressure was much more for conversion of the heart, whatever one's creed.
Bente Bjornholt, 'Perceptions of Art: Niketas Choniates and Robert de Clari on the Sack of Constantinople in 1204'
Two of the accounts we have of the sack of Constantinople in 1204 deal with the artefacts found in the city and describe what happened to them during the devastation: namely the De Signis of the Greek official Niketas Choniates and the lowly crusader Robert de Clariís account of the marvels of Constantinople in his La conquÍte de Constantinople. A comparative analysis of the two accounts reveals perceptions about art in the Middle Ages and how art was used to express certain ideas and reactions conditioned in part by the circumstances of the writers themselves, their literary environment, and the events of 1204.
Concerning the objects in Constantinople, Robert mentions buildings, interior fittings, statues, and relics. These are invariably described as ëmarvelsí and ërichesí which fits the prevalent Western ideas about the Orient being a place of immense wealth and magic. His descriptive words also correspond to Medieval French literary terms used when a foreign and unfamiliar entity is approached and attempted to be understood. Niketas writes mainly about the sculpture in the Hippodrome which he says the crusaders destroyed. Through his rhetorical technique, ekphrasis, he presents an account with all the appropriate elements of animation, emotion, effect, and aesthetics as well as frequent quotations of classical authors. His account is furthermore highly emotional as he expresses his anger, despair and pain at the sack of the city.
Both authors apply the same value judgements to the works of art they discuss. They pay attention to position, material, quantity, shape, and fate of the objects. On a non-physical level, they are interested in the of function of the object, an attached story or legend, the source of the information, the effects of the objects and the aesthetic value. Mostly they concentrate on the power associated with the objects. Whether magical or mechanical, factual or symbolic, the power described demonstrates that the objects had significance which went beyond their physical qualities and was connected to their history, character, function and effect. Robertís descriptions illustrate that he can relate to the objects in spite of their ultimate foreign character. For Niketas, artistic appreciation cannot stand in conjunction with the destruction of the objects, but for Robert this does not present a problem. After all, although he appears to have made an effort to understand the original function of the various monuments, he also represents the ruling authority whose power is manifested through the appropriation and destruction.
The setting of the Hippodrome in Niketas account is poignant in its theme of contest and subsequent victory and defeat. It was also important as a symbolic place for assembling objects themselves associated with victory and tradition through their acquisition. In his lament, Niketas therefore demonstrates the destruction of the force of the empire through the destruction of the force present in the Hippodrome and its contents.
The art objects in Constantinople played a central role to both Niketas and Robert; both authors perceived the art as part of the very fabric of the city. They both judged the art according to the same values, although they did not pay the same amount of attention to the various aspects. It is however, not possible to say that their perceptions of art are fundamentally different. After all, they both recognised artistic objects and engaged with these as active viewers. And it is the acknowledgement of this process, which remains in the evidence of the 'marvels of Constantinople' and the De Signis.
Ian Booth, 'The Collapse of Byzantine Authority in Paphlagonia in the Thirteenth Century'
This paper considers why Byzantine authority in Paphlagonia collapsed so totally in the thirteenth century. Two thousand years of Greek civilisation were eradicated so completely that in 1897 only 7 of 258 villages were still Christian. Why? The obvious answer, military defeat, would be impossible in Paphlagonia's rough, heavily wooded mountains in the face of any serious opposition and more especially so as the Turkmens who took it were basically cavalry, whilst Paphlagonia is infantry country. In one article Bryer quotes from the 14th-century poem, Dede Korkut, to show that Turkmens did not like fighting in such terrain. Thus when the poem's potent image of armed men lurking under dripping trees is added to the above, I feel that if the border had defences then Byzantine authority must have collapsed within rather than from defeat. This poses two questions: 1. Was the border adequately defended? (This requires us to know where it ran.) 2. If the peasants deserted the Empire in 1290, why did they do it then?
Where was the border? To find it, I used three types of evidence: the remains on the ground, the borders proposed by other historians and historical data. The proposals of most historians fall into two groups: those following the Coast Ranges, and those that head southwestward from Kerempe Burunu. The one odd proposal, Turan's for 1242, can be rejected immediately as it starts near Herakleia and thus does not correspond with either Pachymeres' evidence that Paphlagonia was lost due to Michael VIII's decision to tax the Akritai or with Amasra's surrender in 1461. Those of Bryer, Pitcher, Talbot-Rice and Geneakaplos, which all follow the Coast Ranges, are make more sense but are unacceptable because there is no suitable line of forts. Bryer, however, in David Komnenos and St. Eleutherios, makes two errors. Firstly he says that David Komnenos' troops reached Tarsia on the Sakarya River by marching inland from Herakleia, which I accept, but I do not see why he assumes that this was his only move inland. For me this attack proves that David did operate inland rather than that the attack on Tarsia was his only move inland. Secondly, when quoting from the Georgian Chronicle, he ignores the word 'all'. He shows, correctly, that the Chonicler has outlined the routes of the conquering Komnenoi as two lists of ports and the expression 'de toute la Paphlagonie et du Pont'. I accept all his argument but do not believe that the word 'toute' can be ignored. The text says that David conquered all of Paphlagonia, not part of it, and to me this implies that he occupied it well inland.
My view is supported by the remains of 29 forts, 9 of which form a defensive line around Araç that also clearly defends territory to the north. Though definitely Byzantine, TAB 9 does not date any of these ruins but I can see no use for them except to cut the Kastamonu-Safranbolu road. In the 13th century when Kastamonu and Safranbolu were in Moslem hands and the land to the north was Byzantine. The cheap construction methods suggest John III rather than John II and indeed Pachymeres supports this view.
Ostrogorsky's proposal for 1214: For Paphlagonia, Ostrogorsky's border proposal matches what I propose above fairly well. On the other hand, Pachymeres' statement that John III fortified the border gives us a problem with Yenice and Bartin River areas. There are no known forts in these parts, so it must have used natural defences which would mean moving the border further south, thus crossing the river in its Canyon, near Karabuk, and utilising the Ahmetusta Pass, which is also the edge of the forest. These natural obstacles make a pretty good border in this area. According to Yasar, Araç was occupied (briefly?) in 1213, which places the border there in 1213 and Candar Bey made nearby Eflâni his capital in 1291, which means that it was still in Byzantine hands until then. However Candar's attack on Kastamonu in 1309 suggests that it was no longer a Ghazi state by then, which is consistent with Pachymeres' claim that in the 1290s the Ghazi fighters of Paphlagonia joined Osman on the Sangarios frontier. However, he would only have established his capital at Eflâni if there were nowhere else, which suggests continued Byzantine resistance. Thus Osman had to wait until the 1330s for his victories. Thus the border starts at Kerempe Burunu, hooks round Araç, follows the ridge to Ahmetusta Pass and then crosses the Yenice River Canyon into the Bolu Daglari.
Why 1291? I agree with those who believe that Andronikos II's financial and military policies caused the loss of Anatolia, but know that people are usually unwilling to changes side unless they can see a very good reason for doing so. However, I believe that in 1291 such a reason existed. Mongol control was slipping, so that instead of facing a great power, with its need to support an army and an aristocracy, Byzantium faced the Beyliks. Young, vigorous, more democratic and short of manpower, they offered the Byzantine peasant hope, in return for a change of religion. Similarly in this century, in Aden, Guinea-Bissau, Nicaragua etc., millions made a similar choice between socialism and capitalism.
The archaeology thus suggests a border that was defended either with forts or naturally, so I must agree with Langer and Blake that there is reason to believe that the Byzantine peasants quit because a better offer was made to them. The Beyliks, because of their low demands and free society, beat Byzantium in its strongest fortress. Indeed, seen in these terms, the people rallied to the Grand Komnenoi in 1204 because they too offered a small, personalised solution. The difference in 1291 was that they had to change religion, which, according to both Vryonis and Ducelier, was no problem.
Ioanna Christoforaki, 'Lusignan Cyprus, Cilician Armenia and the Holy Land: Artistic Interchange across Frontiers'
This paper attempted to illustrate the intertwined history of three neighbouring realms, namely Lusignan Cyprus, Cilician Armenia and the Latin kingdom of Jerusalem, as reflected in an image from a humble religious building on the island of Cyprus. The church of the Holy Cross, situated in the village of Pelendri in the outskirts of the island's southern port, Limassol, was originally a twelfth-century construction, extended and re-decorated around 1350-75. The fresco decoration of the north aisle of the church includes an unusual representation of the Incredulity which deviates from the established iconographic type in that Christ pulls Thomas' hand from the wrist, forcing him to touch his wound on his exposed chest.
Although this peculiar iconographic detail enjoyed great popularity in western art, where it first appeared in the middle of the thirteenth century, it nonetheless did not reach Frankish Cyprus via the West. The motif of Christ pulling Thomas' hand had already been known in the Christian East from the late sixth century as exemplified by a pilgrim's flask from the Holy Land, now in Monza. This very same image was later employed on another pilgrim's flask that has survived from the twelfth or thirteenth century, now kept in the British Museum.
At around the same time the same pulling gesture of Christ also appeared in the mosaic of the church of the Nativity at Bethlehem, executed under the joint patronage of the Crusader King Amaury I and the Byzantine emperor Manuel I in 1169. The theme seems to have enjoyed a certain degree of popularity in the Christian East at the time, since it is attested in no less than six examples from Syriac manuscripts dated in the first half of the thirteenth century. It also circulated in the wider region of the Levant and was adopted in the art of the Armenian kingdom of Cilicia, appearing in illuminated manuscripts sponsored by members of the royal court and dating from the twelfth to the late thirteenth century.
The inclusion of two donor portraits in the Incredulity scene at Pelendri links further this Cypriot fresco with the art of Cilician Armenia. The appearance of donor portraits in conventional Gospel scenes was extremely rare in Byzantine art. They were, however, favoured in Armenian manuscripts, as attested a number of fourteenth-century examples. It seems therefore quite plausible to assume that the Cypriot painter (or perhaps his patron) was influenced by images circulating in the Latin Orient and thus decided (or was ordered) to embellish an otherwise traditional Incredulity scene with Christ's unusual pulling gesture while boldly introducing two donor portraits as well. The results of this iconographic pursuit illuminate the distinct kinship between the arts of the Latin kingdom of Jerusalem, Armenian Cilicia and Lusignan Cyprus while revealing the mechanisms of artistic interchange: from an imposing mosaic in Bethlehem to a humble pilgrim flask and from lavishly illuminated royal manuscripts in Armenia to provincial frescos somewhere in rural Cyprus. On the one hand the above examples indicate the simultaneous circulation of Byzantine, Crusader and Armenian images in the area; on the other they show that patrons and audiences alike were familiar with this melange of images from different traditions and content to accept such an eclectic style for decorating churches or illuminating their manuscripts.
Igor Dorfmann-Lazarev, 'Patriarch Photius and the East: Theology and Politics at the Council of Sirakawan, 862/3'
The introductory colophon to the document preserved in Armenian under the title 'Discourses of Vahan the Bishop of Nicaea' gives information about the circumstances of the convocation of an Armeno-Syro-Byzantine Council of Sirakawan in 862/3. This colophon ascribes the initiative of its convocation and its purpose, the union of the churches, to the Patriarch Photius. It defines the following text as the opening speech of the bishop Vahan ( probably, corrupted Yovhan=John), the Photian emissary to the Armenian Catholicos Zachary of Jag.
Sirakawan had recently become the residence of Catholicos and the capital of the newly restored and rapidly expanding Bagratid principality. The Council was convened there during the period of the advance of the Empire across the upper and middle Euphrates into the territories partially inhabited by the Syrian Jacobites and Armenians. The decrease of the role of the Arab ostikan in the rule of Armenia had stimulated the renewal of the contacts between the Armenians and the Byzantines.
The text represents a treatise on the hypostatic union. It is interrupted in the middle by a list of fifteen canons attributed, at the head of the list, to the same Council. The canons are mentioned nowhere else in the document and they are unknown to the later canonists. Textual evidence proves that the part of the treatise following the list of canons has been composed as a direct continuation of the part preceding this list. Twelve canons amongst the fifteen sum up the definitions of the first three ocumenical Councils.
All the expressions present in the treatise and these twelve canons, that might be understood in a Dyophysite sense, could be traced back to the pre-Chalcedonian Fathers and to the Armenian anti-Docetist divines of the 7th - 8th cc. Both advocate moderate Monophysite theology and the Theopaschite clause in the Trisagion. Both are meant to exempt the Armenian Church from the accusations of Eutychianism and Aphthartodocetism. In a way similar to the Armeno-Byzantine Council of Theodosioupolis (632/3), both avoid the seemingly irreconcilable formulations, i.e. 'one nature' on the one hand, and 'in two natures' on the other, as well as the name of the Council of Chalcedon, aspiring to reconciliation between the two churches.
The style of the treatise resembles the homilies of Zachary of Jag. Following Cyril of Alexandria, the author recognises only a speculative distinction between the two natures in the incarnate Logos. Following Cyril and John of Awjun, he defines the Incarnation as a union 'out of two natures'. Following Agat'angelos and Cyril, he uses the word 'nature' (bnut'iwn) in different senses. Describing the way the two natures come together in the hypostatic union, he uses the verb 'to mix' (xarnem), contraposed by him to the verb 'to confuse' (xarnakem, sp'ot'em), but contested by Photius. His notion of the operation in Christ resembles the Monothelite Ekthesis of the Emperor Heraclius (638). The author describes the Orthodox confession as the golden mean between Adoptionism and the profession of 'one confused nature'. Therefore, the colophon wrongly attributes this treatise. It might, rather, represent the Armenian and not the Byzantine apology at the Council, whilst the true discourse of the Photian emissary remains unknown to us.
The three canons at the end of the list define the boundaries of the Tradition of the Church. The first two are confessionally heterogeneous: whilst the first enjoins the Monophysite believers to condemn Chalcedon, the second prohibits the Dyophysite believers to condemn it.
The first canon tolerates the Armenians accepting Byzantine dogmas out of religious conviction, but it aims at anathematising those Armenians who, whilst retaining adherence to their Church, were unwilling or afraid to confess openly their rejection of the Byzantine dogmas. It is meant to emphasise the confessional distinctiveness of the Armenians inhabiting the territories passing to the Empire, and thus to hinder their assimilation in the midst of the Byzantine population.
The second canon allows for the existence of Monophysite communities in the territories passing under Byzantine rule, but it urges those sympathetic to the Byzantine dogmas to suppress the anti-Chalcedonian anathemas. It is meant to intensify the absorption of Armenians into Byzantine Orthodoxy.
Thus, each canon tries to win those remaining half-way between the Armenian and the Byzantine churches to its side. These canons prove that the intention of the initiators of the Council, attested to by the colophon, and testified by the treatise and the twelve Christological canons, was not realised in Sirakawan. On the other hand, the combination of these two canons with the third, confirming the obligatory character of the first three ocumenical Councils for all, reflects a positive result of the encounter not envisaged in the colophon.
The final redaction of the list to include these three canons means that at the stage of their promulgation the Council was no longer concerned with the union of the Churches conceived in the strict sense. The testimony of the letter 'Against the Heresy of Theopaschites' addressed by Photius to the Prince Asot substantiates the testimony of our document that between the establishment of full communion between the two Churches and their reciprocal condemnation, a tertium quid could be envisaged. Photius, in a way similar to the second canon, draws a distinction between those rejecting the Orthodox definitions out of a sincere search for truth and those " disobedient amongst the heretics'. He recognises the positive theological value of a quest for the true teaching outside the Orthodox Church. According to him, sincere contestation one day can dispose the heterodox to embrace the Orthodox confession.
When, in the course of the encounter, each side realised that the opposite side would not mitigate its claims with regard to Chalcedon, the discussion shifted from dogmatic questions to the conditions for a reciprocal recognition. The above Photian letter demonstrates how this recognition could be substantiated theologically.
A declaration of reciprocal tolerance towards those who were still regarded as heretics could have provided the confidence indispensable for Byzantine-Armenian political collaboration. Both the Empire, attempting to obtain a firm foothold beyond the Euphrates, and the newly-restored Armenian principality, were interested in co-operation in order to deter the Moslem and Paulician forces. Photius personally was concerned in achievement of an agreement with the Monophysite churches in view of his conflict with Rome. However, Photius's approach was innovative with respect to the existing canonical practices of either church. Therefore, these canons have not been incorporated into any canonical collection and Photius's undertaking has not been followed up.
Hannah Hunt, 'Gregory of Narek's Book of Lamentation'
This paper explored the concept of penitent grief in the 10th/11th-century Gregory of Narek's Book of Lamentation, and considered its dual source from both an established tradition of repentant mourning as a theological construct, and the existence of more secular cultic lamentation for contemporary events.
Narek was notable for his breadth of reference, being steeped in not only the Armentian church Fathers but also Greek and Syriac patristic authors. The Biblical foundation of these patristic traditions is especially evident in the work which of all Narek's output served to keep alive his memory, the prayerful lamentations known as the Book of Lamentation. In this Narek compares contemporary military and other events to Biblical paradigms, and reveals a sense of history which affirms the place of Armenia in the world. His strong use of topical references suggests an internalisation of a sense of belonging to a particular place, that the human person, like a city under siege, is vulnerable to assaults from the enemy. He employs vivid descriptions of physical journeys to mirror the writer's own pilgrimage from sin to repentance and redemption.
Matthew of Edessa's Chronicle, being roughly contemporaneous, provides some further insights into the actual political and dynastic events of Narek's lifetime. Both writers employ apocalyptic images, but to different ends, with Matthew focusing on issues to do with Armenian supremacy and self-determination, and Narek stressing a theology which has a theological impetus.
Ann Powell, 'The Pervane and the Mevlane: Selçuk Medreseler and Imperial Symbolism'
The fortunes of the Selçuk Empire waxed and waned in inverse proportion to those of the Byzantine Empire. Its high point came after the Latin conquest of Constantinople in 1204. Trade was encouraged by a chain of caravanserai across the empire which offered free accommodation to merchants. Cities flourished because of the growth of industry controlled by craft guilds affiliated to the Sufi Ahi Brotherhood. The growing empire needed administrators and so there was an expansion in higher education by the foundation of Medreseler (colleges). Like the caravanserais these were imperial foundations endowed by members of the Sultan's family or high court officials and were not attached to mosques.
They followed two patterns: either an open Persian-style four-eyvan courtyard or a domed Anatolian type of building. The only decorative feature in the severely plain facade was the doorway, covered by a pointed niche filled with muqarnas and placed within a rectangular frame filled with geometric ornament.
There are two conflicting theories about the use of geometric decoration in Islamic buildings. The essentially Shi'ite theory is that it expresses the unity and diversity of Allah (tawid). This is questioned by Gülru Necipoglu, in her recent book on geometry in Islamic art suggests that its interpretation depends upon the historical context. It probably originated in 10th century Baghdad and in certain contexts symbolised the authority of the Abassid Caliph. The Selçuk sultans received their authority from the Caliph and the geometrical sculptured decoration of their buildings symbolised their imperial power. It is not found in the buildings of their vassals, such as the Mengüçüked Emir Ammad Shah who with his wife Turan Malik founded the mosque and hospital at Divrigi in 1228, chose an Armenian architect, Khurranshah of Ahlat. Almost baroque vegetal sculpture decorates the buildingís porches which owes more to Armenia than to any Islamic source. In contrast the porches of the mosque and medrese of the küliye in Kayseri founded in 1237 by Mahperi Huand Hatun, the Armenian first wife of the Selçuk Sultan Alaeddin Keykubad, are decorated with typically austere Selçuk geometric designs.
After the death of the Sultan, Mahperi's son Giyaseddin Keyhusrev II seized the throne but his reign ended in disaster when the Mongols destroyed the Selçuk army at the Battle of Köse Dag in 1242. He was reduced to the status of a Mongol vassal and drank himself to death in 1246 leaving three young sons by different mothers to dispute the succession. The Vizier Celaleddin Karatay, a Greek convert to Islam, set up a joint regency in order to preserve the Selcuk empire even under Mongol dominance. He founded the Büyük Karatay Medrese in Konya in 1251, a domed building entered through a coloured marble geometrically decorated porch. The interior is covered with blue tiles whose star patterns appear to reflect the Sufi theology of one of its leading teachers, the Mevlana Celaleddin Rumi.
Although born in Balkh in northern Afghanistan where his father was a respected Sufi theologian his family migrated to Konya during the reign of the Sultan Alaeddin Keykubad where he became successful teacher. The meeting with the 'intoxicated' mystic Shams of Tabriz in October 1244 transformed the Mevalana's life. Together they created a new form of worship, the sema, in which the whirling figures dancing to the sound of a reed flute reproduce the movements of the heavens. The Sufi mystic, however, rises above the concentric spheres of the Heavens to gain unmediated access to God. The two men attended the opening ceremony of Karatay's new medrese, and later performed the sema within the college.
The Vizier Karatay died in 1254 and with him all hopes of a united Selçuk empire. The youngest son, Alaeddin Keykubad II, died in mysterious circumstances in Erzurum and the empire was divided between the two surviving brothers, Izzedin and Rukneddin. Izzedinís mother was Greek and he turned for help to the Byzantine Despot of Nicaea, whereas his half-brother Rukneddin accepted the over lordship of the Mongols. Nevertheless, the Mongols ordered both princes to assist them with their Syrian campaign which culminated in the capture of Baghdad and the end of the Abbasid caliphate in 1258.
It was at this crucial moment that Izzedin's vizier Sahip Ata Fahrettin commissioned the unique Ince Minare Medrese in Konya, built between 1260-65. The medrese was attached to a mosque, hence the single minaret. The architect, Kolug, has rejected Selçuk geometry and framed the doorway with two ribbons of Qur'anic script (suras I and XXXVI), as if to declare the independence of Izzedin's regime.
Hope for Selçuk independence with Byzantine aid ended abruptly when Michael Palaeologos became Byzantine emperor in July 1261 after the recapture of Constantinople. Izzedin visited him, seeking aid against the Mongols, but was imprisoned and exiled. As a result it was Rukneddin who became the sole ruler and his Vizier Muhineddin Suleyman was promoted to the position of Pervane, the butterfly, the Sultan's official spokesman. Both he and his vizier father had risen to high positions through their skill in negotiating with the Mongols. Izzedin's vizier, Sahip Ata Fahrettin, retained his position but was completely under the authority of the Pervane.
The Pervane achieved supreme power in 1265 when he murdered the Sultan and married his wife Tamara, 'the Georgian Lady' and ruled in the name of her infant son. She was a devoted admirer of the Mevlana and after his death the Pervane built the tekke over the tomb of the mystic poet when he died in 1273.
In spite of his supreme power, the Pervana's own foundation in Tokat built in 1275, the Gök Medrese which contains his tomb, is a relatively modest building lavishly decorated with blue tiles whose star-like decorations express his sympathy for the Mevlana's mysticism. In contrast the Vizier Sahip Ata Fahrettin built the grandiose Gök Medrese in Sivas in 1270 which was designed by a Greek architect Kaloyan. It is a magnificent building because not only is it covered in white marble, the doorway has geometric decorations and is flanked by two minarets, symbols of imperial power. These were first used in the Hatuniye Medrese in Erzurum, probably built by a daughter of Alaeddin Keykubad in 1253. It is not surprising that the Mongol Ilkhanid Vizier Semsettin Cuwayni should commission in 1271 a rival medrese in Sivas which also has twin minarets. In the end the Mongols won because both the Pervane and the Vizier Sahip Ata were executed in 1277 because of their suspected alliance with the invading Mamelukes.
The use of twin minarets at Erzurum and at Sivas indicates the importance of Imperial symbolism in medrese design. The geometric decoration is ambiguous: it too could have Imperial associations at a time when both Abbasid and Selçuk power were under threat and finally submerged by the Mongol invasion. Yet at the same time the close association of the two leading statesmen, the Vizier Karatay and the Pervane with the great Sufi poet Mevlana Celaleddin Rumi indicates that these geometric decorations could also have mystical significance.
Hilary Richardson, 'The significance and development of cross- bearing monuments in Armenia and Georgia'
The cross motif has an important place in Armenian and Georgian culture. It pervades many different aspects of art and architecture, e.g. as the basic design of ground-- plans of churches in numerous permutations. It frequently occurs in carved ornament, sometimes on an enormous scale decorating the entire facade of a church, e.g. Samtavisi cathedral (11th c.) or Ananuri (17th c.). This makes a strong visual impact from a distance, just as the sitting of a Georgian church often is chosen for its strategic position to dominate the landscape. Sometimes giant crosses are sunk deep in brick facades, as at the monastery of Ahali Shuamta. On the other hand, tiny crosses may be inserted in unexpected places, while large painted crosses fill the interior of domes. Doorways frequently bear the cross of protective significance.
'By this conquer': The emphasis on the cross motif shows that both Armenia and Georgia followed a tradition with a common root and that their individual interpretations of the tradition run parallel. Why is the cross stressed so much? The free-standing stone monuments of the 5th, 6th, and 7th centuries provide the answer.They immediately follow in the wake of the conversion of the two peoples. Both St Gregory the Illuminator and St Nino, who brought Christianity to Armenia and Georgia respectively, are associated with the setting up of crosses to mark the triumph over paganism. Their actions reflect the major event for the Christianity at the time: its liberation from persecution and its general acceptance by Constantine the Great. The victory of Christ and the cross became the chief meaning behind the motif following Constantine's famous vision and the inscription he saw. Thus the Triumph of the Cross features strongly in Armenian and Georgian art. Early texts confirm the setting up of crosses by the national saints, with Agathangelos' account of St Gregory ( illustrated by Chester Beatty Ms 602, f.4v), and with St Nino's wooden cross enshrined on its original site within the church of Holy Cross or Djvari, built in the 6th c. on a cross plan, and a vital centre of pilgrimage to this day. Georgian Pre- altar crosses, still found in small churches in Svanetia, continue the tradition going back to St Nino.
Early Stone Monuments
There was a widespread type of cross- bearing monument that consisted of a pillar or stele set on a large cubic base or several steps, denoting Golgotha. A separate cross fitted into a socket on top, surmounting the whole. Many individual parts survive but no complete example intact. A few contemporary representations, e.g. at Edsani Sion ( 6th c.), give a reliable guide to the appearance of the entire structure. Sometimes a miniature building, probably representing the Holy Sepulchre, Sion or the Heavenly Jerusalem, is carved at the top of the shaft. Odzun and Khandisi are outstanding monuments which belong to the same school of sculptors who carved scenes in low relief in carefully planned panels. Biblical subjects belong to the earliest Christian cycles and there are historical scenes of the conversion, etc. An important iconographic source is An Encomium of the Holy Cross of God attributed to David Anhaght, the 'Invincible' Philosopher, the 6th c. Armenian Neoplatonist.
The specialised form of the khatchkar
In Armenia the stelae come to an end with the Arab domination. A new shape of cross monument, formulated from the 9th c. onwards, becomes the characteristic Armenian monument. The khatchkar or cross- stone survives in thousands and is virtually a cultural emblem. The cross is no longer free- standing but adorns the front surface of a large upright slab in an infinite variety of cross- patterns, sometimes minutely worked in tufa to resemble lace. The treatment is endlessly varied and full of symbolism within the rather rigid framework. The khatchkar always faces west, linked to imagery of the Second Coming.
Michael Whitby, 'Evagrius and the Mandylion of Edessa'
Among the most famous items brought to Constantinople in the middle Byzantine period is the Mandylion of Edessa, the image of Christ sent to King Abgar which became one of the supernatural protectors of the city in the sixth century. the earliest mention of the acheiropoietos icon is in the Ecclesiastical History of Evagrius (iv.27), who describes how it was used to ignite a fire which destroyed a dangerous Persian mound during the great siege of 544. Evagrius' account of the siege mound is largely derived from Procopius (Wars ii.26-27), but the story of the icon's miraculous intervention is an intrusion. Evagrius has usually been credited with creating this version of events, but a radical challenge to his evidence has been mounted by J. Chrysostomides ('An Investigation concerning the Authenticity of the Letter of the Three Patriarchs' in J. A. Munitiz, J. Chrysostomides, and C. Dendrinos, eds., The Letter of the Three Patriarchs to Emperor Theophilus and Related Texts (Camberley, 1997) xvii-xxxviii). Chrysostomides argues that the allusion to the miraculous icon was introduced into Evagrius' text in the eighth century, in the context of the iconoclast dispute; it was then read out at the Ecumenical Council of 787 (a copy of the text presented to the Council by the monk Stephen had this passage erased, though George, abbot of the monastery of Hyacinthus possessed a complete text: Mansi, Collectio XIH, 189D-192C). There are several problems in Chrysostomides' analysis. (1) The closeness of the accounts of the siege in Evagrius and Procopius has been overstated; Procopius is the source, but Evagrius deliberately structured his account to give a different slant so that the siege mound and its destruction became the climax to his story. (2) Evagrius' narrative of the firing of the mound is not self-contradictory, but accurately describes an initial blaze deep inside the mine which was followed by the smouldering destruction of the mound. (3) Evagrius' failure to cite a source for his story is in line with his practice elsewhere. (4) The absence of references to the acheiropoietos image in contemporary Syriac texts, the hymn for the inauguration of St Sophia at Edessa, and the Chronicle of Edessa, is not significant since the former is undated and the latter terminates before the siege. (5) The omission of the icon from the list of Chapter Headings to Evagrius' text is not decisive, since both sets are extremely brief and omit other comparable miraculous events. Evagrius, in fact, structured his account of the Roman-Persian conflict in the 540s to give prominence to God's miraculous interventions on the Roman side (iv.26-28). The story of the Edessa icon is properly located here, and is part of the sixth-century developments in religious devotion in Rome's eastern provinces.