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Tempus: The Harvard College History Review is the undergraduate journal of the Harvard History Department. Tempus was founded in 1999 by undergraduates Adam G. Beaver and Sujit M. Raman as a forum for publishing original historical scholarship through which all students have the opportunity to learn from their peers. Tempus also sponsors history events on campus and aims to promote an undergraduate community within the History Department. In the spring of 2009, Tempus became an online publication. In the spring of 2013, Tempus returned to print.

About Tempus

The Spring ‘15 Editorial Board

Sama MammadovaNancy O’NeilCody DalesMartin CarlinoCaleb ShelburneEmilie Robert Wong*Michael Avi-Yonah*Forrest Brown

Editor-in-ChiefDeputy Editor-in-ChiefBusiness Chief

Editor-in-Chief Emeritus

Design by Cody DalesCover art by Charlie Caplan, with thanks

Submissions and inquiries may be E-mailed to tempushchr@gmail.com or mailed to Tempus: The Harvard College History Review, Box 47, 59 Shepard Street, Cambridge, MA 02138. Additional information may be found online at both www.hcs.harvard.edu/tempus/ and www.facebook.com/harvardtempus

As always, we are appreciative for the support of the Harvard History Department and the financial support of the Undergraduate Council. We are forever grateful to all those who submitted papers for consideration for the high quality of their work.

*Congratulations to our new members

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The Changing Roles of Imperial Byzantine Brides in 10th - 15th Century Interdynastic Marriagesby Veronica Wickline

James Madison’s Pre-Federalist Use of History as Rhetoricby Matt Shuham

A Shipment from Europe

A Portrait of Fragmentation in the Eastern Mediterraneanby Richard Rush

6

20

34

When God GivesConstantine Daughters

Galata and Constantinople

Lecturer and Assistant Director of Undergraduate Studies, Harvard History Dept.with Sama Mammadova and Nancy O’Neil

50

An Interview withHeidi Tworek

Dear Reader,

Welcome to the Spring 2015 Issue of Tempus, Volume XVI, Issue 1. It is my pleasure to present to you three wonderful pieces of historical research from Harvard undergraduates. Chosen among many undeniably worthy submissions, the three essays published in this issue explore a variety of historical topics including Byzantium, women’s roles in politics, the economic and military development of medieval colonies on the Mediterranean, and the literature that served as an inspiration for the US Constitution.

Veronica Wickline’s paper on the Byzantine marriage diplomacy offers an important insight into the ways in which Byzantine brides were evaluated as potential brides, legitimized other dynasties through marriage, and promoted Byzantine interests abroad as spouses of foreign political figures. It is this essay that serves as inspiration for this issue’s cover art. Set at approximately the same time and place as Wickline’s paper, Richard Rush’s analysis of the increasing affluence and military strength of Galata, a Genovese colony situated across the Golden Horn from Constantinople, critically examines the complex net of political alliances in the late medieval and early modern Mediterranean. Removed from the two aforementioned pieces by miles and centuries, Matthew Shuham’s work investigates the potential sources of James Madison’s inspiration for the US Constitution based on a list of books that Thomas Jefferson had shipped for him from Europe.

The Tempus staff has thoroughly enjoyed reading and editing the three essays that we now proudly present to you, and we hope that you enjoy them as much as we do.

Sincerely,

. Sama Mammadova

Editor’s Note

When God GivesConstantine Daughters

The Changing Roles of Imperial Byzantine Brides in 10th - 15th Century Interdynastic Marriages

by Veronica Wickline

1

functions shifted in importance with the changing political pressures spanning the six centuries. Three factors that consistently influenced the establishment of marital alliances between a royal Byzantine female and a foreign dignitary were birth rank, age, and physicality. The importance of each of these factors in determining a woman’s marital prospects changed over time as different ideologies and political climates influenced the Byzantine court. Once the women were married, imperial families expected women to perform four official functions through these unions: legitimize the royal families’ claims to power; serve as ambassadors representing Byzantine interests abroad; create progeny loyal to both states; and represent God’s character and dominion through the married couple’s pious governing of the state. As with the factors that shaped women’s eligibility, the functions a bride was expected to perform in her new marriage fluctuated in their importance in response to

W riting to his son on the proper governance of Byzantium, Constantine VII found occasion to quote the alleged words of

Constantinople’s founder to support his claim that Byzantines had no business making marital alliances with peer polities. This piece was written in the mid-tenth century, when several marriage ties with Khazar and Bulgarian royal families were already complicating traditionally insular marital practices. Indeed, Byzantine royal women married foreign rulers with increasing frequency from the 10th century through to the fall of the Byzantine Empire in the 15th century.

As royal women took to the global stage, the factors that determined when and whom a girl would marry, along with the functions a bride was expected to serve, formed a dynamic system of marital expectations and considerations. Many of these factors and

1 Constantine VII Porphyrogennetos, De Administrando Imperio, ed. Gy. Moravcsik, trans. R. J. H. Jenkins (Washington, DC, 1967), 13, 71.

“Concerning this matter also a dread and authentic charge and ordinance of the great and holy Constantine is engraved upon the sacred table of the universal church of the Christians in Hagia Sophia, that never shall an emperor of the Romans ally himself in marriage with a nation of customs differing from and alien to those of the Roman order, especially with one that is infidel and unbaptized, unless it be with the Franks alone.”1

- Constantine VII Porphyrogennetos, De Administrando Imperio

7When God Gives Constantine Daughters

8 Wickline

to Bayalun’s marriage provide the opportunity to explore how the Byzantine ruling class used interdynastic marital alliances in a period when their global influence was declining. The fourth and final source, Voyage d’outremer, comes from the Burgundian traveller, Bertrandon de la Broquière, who passed through Constantinople on his return to Ghent from the Holy Land. Bertrandon’s distaste for Byzantine reliance on the Turks, combined with his observations about the Emperor’s bride from Trebizond, offer us a glimpse into Byzantine marital alliance practices during the empire’s twilight. By examining what these four sources have to say about which factors influenced a Byzantine royal woman’s eligibility and what functions an imperial bride was expected to perform, I determine how the importance of each of these factors and functions changed over time.

However, before one attempts to track the these changes across the 10th-15th centuries, it is necessary to become acquainted with the roles of women and marriage prior to the introduction of foreign unions to the Byzantine court. In the fifth century, a striking number of royal women (e.g. Pulcheria, Ariadne) took on the statecraft of Byzantium.2 Within the same century, however, the introduction of Christian canon law began to alienate women from positions of power.3 Nevertheless, as Byzantine society shifted away from direct female leadership, former regents left a legacy for later royal women to observe.4 Leading up to the 10th century, emperors rarely took into

the dynamic political and ideological pressures at play in the Byzantine Empire.

Four sources spanning six hundred years and representing four different regions of origin capture the interplay of these factors and functions over time across the Byzantine world. First, in The Embassy of Liudprand, Liudprand of Cremona narrates his voyage in 968 to Constantinople to secure a Byzantine bride for Otto II, the Holy Roman Emperor. Liudprand’s account, unlike that from his trip c. 950, casts the Byzantine court in a negative light. His work demonstrates how marital alliances were negotiated when the Byzantines were at the height of their international influence. Secondly, The Alexiad, written c. 1148, Anna Komnene chronicles the life and works of her father, Emperor Alexios I. In this biography, Komnene sheds light on how women of the royal family took part in governance, revealing some of their understandings about the institution of marriage and women’s agency. As a woman whom these marriages directly impacted, Anna Komnene offers invaluable insight into royal women’s understanding of what constituted their roles as wives. Thirdly, Shams al-Dīn Abū ʿAbdallāh Muḥammad ibn ʿAbdallāh, or ibn Baṭṭūṭa, shares his experience escorting Bayalun, the Byzantine wife of the Mongol khan, on her return to Constantinople to give birth to a child in her father’s court in The Travels of Ibn Baṭṭūṭa. Ibn Baṭṭūṭa’s interactions with the royal family and the hints his text offer about the political climate that would give rise

2 Judith Herrin, “Marriage: A Fundamental Element of Imperial Statecraft,” in Unrivaled Influence: Women and Empire in Byzantium (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press: 2013), 306.3 Joëlle Beaucamp, “Exclues et Aliénées: Les Femmes Dans La Tradition Canonique Byzantine,” in Strangers to Themselves: The Byzantine Outsider (Aldershot: Ashgate/Variorum, 2000), 89.4 Barbara Hill, “Actions Speak Louder than Words: Anna Komnene’s Attempted Usurpation,” in Anna Komnene and Her Times, ed. Thalia Gouma-Peterson (New York: Garland Publishing, 2000), 55.5 Warren T. Treadgold, “The Bride-shows of the Byzantine Emperors,” Byzantion 49 (1979), 395.6 Carolyn L Connor, Women of Byzantium (New Haven–London: Yale University Press, 2004), 210.

9

Byzantines lost influence on the global stage. At the height of Byzantine global prominence, the distinction between illegitimate birth, legitimate birth, and porphyrogenneta status directly affected a woman’s social standing when it came time to marry. Most notably, the Byzantine distinction of porphyrogenneta or purple-born (i.e. a legitimate daughter born while the emperor held office), contributed a uniquely Byzantine stratification to a woman’s birth rank and her corresponding desirability in the eyes of a foreign ruler. Within the Byzantine court, Barbara Hill notes that the purple-born distinction qualified women to be “acceptable receptacles of imperial power”

given a dynastic history of purple-born women governing the state both directly and indirectly.9 Herrin also notes that porphyrogennetai met with the least resistance in claiming power.10 Anna Komnene’s confirms these observations in her own writing, as she cites her status as a porphyrogenneta frequently among her credentials for authoring her father’s history.11 Komnene

consideration the global impact of their choice in bride - as is evinced in the frequent bride shows of the 8th and 9th century, in which beauty was the apparent criterion for choosing a new empress.5 However, with the rise of Byzantine involvement in international politics, the 9th

century saw this practice begin to give way to marriage alliances with foreign powers.6 At the turn of the millennium, the ruling family found itself negotiating with foreign powers that wanted Byzantine brides far more often than the Byzantines themselves sought foreign marriage alliances.7 Rather than establish repeated marriage links with the same close ally, the Byzantine ruling class viewed every opportunity for marriage as a new chance to shape the political landscape to their favor.8 As the works of ibn Baṭṭūṭa and Bertrandon de la Broquière reveal, even as Byzantine influence faded over the following five hundred years, the royal family continued to use international marriage to secure long-term alliances and legitimize its claim to rule. Keeping this context in mind, let us now examine the changing importance of the factors considered in establishing an alliance and the functions each bride was expected to serve from the 10th to the 15th century.

Factors Involved in Establishing a Marriage

Birth Rank: A Byzantine bride’s birth rank influenced her marriage prospects to a lesser degree from the 10th century onwards, as

7 Jonathan Shepard, “Marriages Towards the Millennium,” in Byzantium in the Year 1000, ed. Paul Magdalino (Leiden - Boston: Brill, 2003), 5.8 This eagerness to reshape the political landscape becomes apparent in Kazhdan’s observation that the Byzantines did not seek repeated alliance with the Rus people, despite celebrating the fact that they practiced Christianity in the same way. Alexander Kazhdan, “Rus’-Byzantine Princely Marriages in the Eleventh and Twelfth Centuries,” in Harvard Ukrainian Studies, 12/13 (1988/1989), 429.9 Hill, “Actions Speak Louder than Words,” in Anna Komnene and Her Times, 49.11 Judith Herrin, “Political Power and Christian Faith in Byzantium,” in Unrivaled Influence: Women and Empire in Byzantium (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 2013), 204.12 Anna Komnene, The Alexiad, trans. E. R. A. Sewter (New York, NY: Penguin Books, 2003), 3, 6.

“... the Byzantine ruling class viewed every opportunity for marriage as a new chance to shape the political landscape to their favor.”

When God Gives Constantine Daughters

10 Wickline

time.

Supporting the claim that subtleties of birth rank diminished over time, Byzantines began to substitute illegitimate daughters for legitimate ones in marriage alliances with the Mongol khans. While illegitimate marriages had taken place earlier and with Western polities, this shift suggests that Mongol ruling families either failed to recognize subtleties of Byzantine birth rank or did not care about women’s legitimate birth.16 When ibn Baṭṭūṭa relates how the illegitimate daughter of the Emperor greeted her family upon her return to Constantinople, he mistakenly refers to the emperor’s wife as Bayalun’s mother, showcasing his unawareness of her illegitimate birth.17 Such ignorance reveals how birth rank as a factor in establishing marital alliances - despite its nuance and importance within the Byzantine court - decreased in significance for the Byzantines when they interacted with cultures that were not sensitive to such distinctions.

Physicality: Contemporary elites on the whole recognized beauty as an important factor in constructing interdynastic marriages. Bertrandon de la Broquière repeatedly comments on the beauty of Byzantine Emperor John VIII’s wife, a princess from the royal family of Trebizond, in a way that marks beauty as an honorable trait.18 Similarly Anna Komnene recounts how Emperor Michael Doukas, in recommending that Nikephoros Botaneiates take the Empress Maria as his wife,

also notes her parents’ special treatment of their porphyrogennetoi upon birth, again representing this status as a prized and lofty distinction.12

From Komnene’s account, it becomes clear that women born in the purple were eligible for tasks of governance traditionally assigned to men in ways that other legitimate daughters of the emperor were not. Translating this privileged status onto the global stage, Byzantine Emperors were initially hesitant to marry their porphyrogennetai to men outside the Byzantine court. In seeking to negotiate a Byzantine marital alliance for the Holy Roman Emperor, Liudprand of Cremona was denied the princess he sought on the grounds that, “It is unheard-of for the porphyrogenita of a porphyrogenitus […] to be mixed up with the peoples,” here meaning non-members of the Byzantine elite.13 Given that purple-born princesses had been married to foreigners prior to Liudprand’s request and also considering the negotiator’s offer to allow the marriage in exchange for the provinces of Ravenna and Rome, it appears that marriage between porphyrogennetai and non-Byzantines was not beyond the realm of possibilities even during the height of Byzantine influence.14

Davids notes that, as time went on, interdynastic marriages with purple-born princesses became more common throughout the regions now in modern Europe and Western Asia.15 The three later sources, however, make no mention of the purple-born distinction, possibly suggesting that the classification’s importance faded over

13 Liudprand of Cremona, The Complete Works of Liudprand of Cremona, trans. Paolo Squatriti (Washington D.C.: Catholic University of America, 2007), 248.14 Peter of Bulgaria had married the daughter of Emperor Christopher in 927.15 Adelbert Davids, “A Marriage Too Far? Maria Lekapena and Peter of Bulgaria,” in The Empress Theophano: Byzantium and the West at the Turn of the First Millennium, ed. Adelbert Davids (Cambridge and New York: Cambridge University Press, 1995), 108-109.16 For example, King Louis III of Provence married the illegitimate daughter of Emperor Leo VI; Steven Runciman, “The Ladies of the Mongols,” in Είς Μνήμην K. I. Αμάντου (Athens: 1960), 46.17 Ibn Baṭṭūṭa, The Travels of Ibn Baṭṭūṭa, vol. 2, trans. H. A. R. Gibb (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1962), 506

11When God Gives Constantine Daughters

dans la tradition canonique byzantine,” which examines how Christian canon law alienated women from positions of power, Beaucamp notes that women’s bodies garnered jurisdictive disadvantages, even going so far as to deem postnatal discharges as fluids that could make one ceremonially unclean.22 Reinsch affirms that women’s bodies were viewed as fundamentally evil but suggests that giving birth provided an avenue by which to transcend one’s corporeal disadvantage.23 Elsewhere Reinsch notes that Anna Komnene had an altogether positive view of the maternal body and considered it the inceptive location of a human’s capacity to love.24 Granted, being a woman and mother herself, Komnene may have been less inclined to view the female body in a wholly negative light. Therefore, while debate persists about the extent to which women’s physicality served as a barrier to their authority, modern scholars recognize that women’s bodies were understood to be inherently disadvantageous in contemporary Byzantium. Such an understanding of female physicality does not seem to have changed substantially over the course of the Byzantine Empire and therefore influenced the establishment of marital alliances to the same degree across time.25

Age: Another potentially disadvantageous attribute that factored into the establishment of Byzantine royal women’s marriages was the young age at which women were married relative to their male spouses. Matthew Blastares, who consolidated much of Byzantine

“spoke to him at length of her noble birth and physical attractions,” further marking beauty as an important characteristic in a potential bride.19 Komnene’s account reveals that the comments made by Bertrandon transcend his personal preference and speak to the medieval perception of beauty as a quality signifying inner virtue. This perception is explored by Diether Reinsch in his article, “Women’s Literature in Byzantium? - The Case for Anna Komnene,” wherein he asserts that physical beauty was one of the few avenues by which women could absolve themselves of Eve’s crime against humanity and advance their social position.20 In this way, a royal woman’s beauty impacted her options significantly when it came time for her to marry. A modern individual may assume that the high birth rank of royal women would mitigate the importance of their physical beauty; however, Carlyn Connor in Women of Byzantium provides the contradictory example of Emperor Constantine VI weeping when his engagement to a beautiful fiancée disintegrated, even though he knew her only from her picture.21 Constantine VI’s response to his loss suggests that physical beauty factored into the establishment of marital alliances even in the highest social strata.

The importance placed on women’s beauty tells only part of the story on perceptions of female physicality. Contemporary Byzantium understood women’s bodies to be inferior to the bodies of men and also inherently evil. In her article, “Exclues et Aliénées: Les femmes

18 Bertrandon de la Broquière, The Voyage d’Outremer, trans. & ed. G. R. Kline (Peter Lang: New York, 1988), 100, 106. 19 Komnene, The Alexiad, 82.20 Diether R. Reinsch, “Women’s Literature in Byzantium? - The Case for Anna Komnene,” in Anna Komnene and Her Times, ed. Thalia Gouma-Peter-son, trans. Thomas Dunlap (New York: Garland Publishing, 2000), 84.21 Connor, Women of Byzantium, 210.22 Beaucamp, “Exclues et Aliénées,” in Strangers to Themselves: The Byzantine Outsider, 99-100.23 Diether R. Reinsch, “Women’s Literature in Byzantium?” 84.24 Ibid.

opposed to the daughter indicates that arriving at a marriageable age did not signal a social transition into autonomy. In the case of Anna Komnene - whose first betrothal was organized shortly following her birth - the royal family assumed it was their responsibility to orchestrate a good marital alliance for their daughter given her young age.28 The way in which the bride received communication regarding her nuptials also speaks to her young age. Hilsdale notes the importance of the pictographic communication found in a Byzantine text written for a young girl soon to marry the emperor.29 The marked transition in the images of the girl from a youth to an augusta reveals that it was through marriage

itself rather than during her preparation for it that women became adult members of the community.30 Furthermore, in ibn Baṭṭūṭa’s account, this transition into adulthood took place through several years of marriage. The khan’s willingness to permit his wife to return to her father in order to give birth may signal that medieval dynasties recognized new brides to be in need of parental support even after their marriage.31 Jonathan Shepard, in his article, “A Marriage Too Far? Maria Lekapena and Peter of Bulgaria,” confirms this slow transition into adulthood by citing women’s

law in the early 14th century, notes that both men and women were to wait until they reached puberty before entering a marriage, standardizing the legal age of marriage in the process: “for males to be past their fourteenth year and for females to be more than twelve years old.”26 Because girls enter puberty before boys, Byzantine law created an age gap between men and women entering into marriage of at least two years. This age gap was often greater because marriage was one of only two avenues by which women could augment their respectability in society - the other being to become a nun. As a result, the pressure to marry was high for women, whereas men had

many opportunities to augment their social standing. This age disparity between the sexes situated women in positions socially inferior to those of their husbands.

Accounting for this disparity, the royal families planned and executed marriage alliances in a manner that took the young age of Byzantine brides into consideration. Angeliki Laiou in “Sex, Consent, and Coercion in Byzantium,” notes that a girl’s family arranged her marriage on her behalf.27 The agency of the family in this situation as

25 N.B. This perception of physicality must have drastically swayed the balance of power in most marriages in the husband’s favor. Add to this inferi-ority the woman’s alien status (each Byzantine bride would travel to live with her husband in the territory he controlled) and it becomes clear that the power dynamic between husband and wife inherently disadvantaged the female spouse. With such negative perceptions of the female body, it is no wonder that domestic violence was as widespread in Byzantine society as Walker stipulates that it was. Alicia Walker, “Wife and Husband: A Golden Team,” in Byzantine Women and Their World, ed. Ioli Kalavrezou (Cambridge - New Haven: Harvard University Art Museums and Yale University Press, 2003), 219. 26 Matthew Blastares, Sexuality, Marriage, and Celibacy in Byzantine Law: Selections from a Fourteenth-Century Encyclopedia of Canon Law and Theology: the Alphabeti-cal Collection of Matthew Blastares, trans. & ed. by P.D. Viscuso (Holy Cross Orthodox: Boston, 2008), 92.

“...it was through marriage itself rather than during her preparation for it that women became adult members of the community”

12 Wickline

confident in its claim to the throne than the newly emerging Western ruling lines. A century and a half later, when Anna Komnene discusses how her father and his immediate imperial predecessors negotiated marriages with foreign parties, she takes care to include whether she deemed a party worthy of a royal Byzantine bride. Komnene describes the betrothal between Norman commander Robert Guiscard’s daughter and Byzantine Emperor Michael Doukas’ son, as “a marriage with a foreigner and a barbarian, from our point of view quite inexpedient.”36 While both cultural and personal bias color Komnene’s negative evaluation of the union, the language of expediency she uses indicates that a metric by which marriages were evaluated was the extent to which it served the greater family. Additionally, the barbaric image Komnene paints of Guiscard reveals that the Byzantine elite viewed itself as a cultured class that did not have to descend to marrying its lesser neighbors. Again emphasizing the Komnene dynasty’s confidence in its legitimacy, when the Persian Sultan asks the Emperor Alexios for one of his daughters to marry, Anna praises her father for denying him on the grounds that any Byzantine wife to the sultan “would have been wretched indeed if she had gone to Persia, to share a royal state worse than any poverty.”37 From the 10th - 12th centuries, then, Byzantine rulers recognized that they had the political advantage of granting legitimacy rather than seeking it.

young age upon marriage as a likely explanation for their frequent returns to Constantinople after marrying a foreign ruler.32 Given the manner in which brides’ families and husbands treated them, I conclude that women were not considered adults upon marriage but rather several years thereafter. Nothing in the evidence suggests that age factored into establishing marriages any differently across the 10th - 15th century timeframe I have examined.

Functions Expected of Byzantine Brides

Legitimization: Byzantine brides served to legitimize their own families’ right to rule by marrying a relatively uncontested ruler and in turn legitimizing their husbands’ ruling families with their own royal blood. Shepard confirms that, especially when both families possessed a contestable claim to the throne of their territory, interdynastic marriages would have been successful at legitimizing both families.33 In the 10th - 12th centuries in particular, Byzantine royal families served as a source of legitimacy more often than they sought legitimization from other dynasties. Of the family Liudprand was sent to represent, Shepard notes that Otto I sought a marital alliance with the Byzantines so that his descendants would have the royal blood necessary to boost their legitimacy.34 The 11th century brought Western powers to Constantinople in search of brides, while the Byzantines did not seek Western brides as often as their own women were sought.35 The Byzantine royal family, then, was more

27 Angeliki E. Laiou, “Sex, Consent, and Coercion in Byzantium,” in Women, Family, and Society in Byzantium. ed. Cécile Morrisson and Rowan Dorin (Ashgate Variorum: Burlington, VT, 2011), 134.28 Komnene, The Alexiad, 168.29 Cecily J. Hilsdale, “Constructing a Byzantine ‘Augusta:’ A Greek Book for a French Bride,” The Art Bulletin, 87, no. 3 (2005), 458.30 Hilsdale, “Constructing a Byzantine ‘Augusta,’” The Art Bulletin, 469.31 Ibn Baṭṭūṭa, The Travels of Ibn Baṭṭūṭa, 497.32 Jonathan Shepard, “A Marriage Too Far? Maria Lekapena and Peter of Bulgaria,” in The Empress Theophano: Byzantium and the West at the Turn of the First Millennium, ed. Adelbert Davids (Cambridge and New York: Cambridge University Press, 1995), 136.

13When God Gives Constantine Daughters

14 Wickline

virtues of one spouse would have reflected well on the other, for he praises the beauty of the Empress excessively while simultaneously painting a picture of Byzantium as a land hostile to Western Christians and subservient to the Turks.41 The fact that Bertrandon does not translate the virtues of the empress into a positive account of the emperor speaks to his foreign status rather than it does negate the mutually legitimizing quality this marriage had. In sum, the legitimizing function marriages could serve became increasingly important from the 10th - 15th centuries as Byzantine ruling families slowly fell from their position as the most stable and powerful dynasty of the Mediterranean.

Ambassadorship: Modern Byzantinists struggle to understand in what manner and to what extent Byzantine princesses acted as ambassadors or representatives of Byzantine interests abroad. Presenting one of the milder views of women’s political agency, Shepard reads the actions of Empress Theophano, wife to Holy Roman Emperor Otto II, as participatory in a “cultural ambassadorship.”42 According to Shepard, Theophano proved effective in representing Byzantium as a brother empire to the West because she was in a position to keep company with the foremost Western powers.43 Connor makes a bolder claim regarding Theophano’s ambassadorship based on an ivory plaque that shows Christ blessing Theophano and Otto II. Examining the uniform facial features and similar height of

However, as the political climate shifted, Byzantine emperors began to expand the list of royal families whom the Byzantines would deign to legitimize. Runciman identifies marriages between the emperor’s illegitimate daughters and the khans of the Mongols as exemplifying a Byzantine willingness to legitimize a group that would have once been considered barbaric.38 Matthew Blastares’ text reveals that laws against polygamy and marrying non-Christians confined Byzantine citizens at the time when these emperors were marrying their illegitimate daughters to the polygamist Mongols.39 In breaking the laws of their own society, these emperors show their desperation for alliance with the Mongols given their extensive control of surrounding territories. In the 14th century, Byzantine rulers were willing to legitimize the royal families of foreign states less discriminately than when Anna Komnene wrote her history.

By the 15th century, the Byzantine ruling family so markedly had fallen in prestige that the Emperor sought a wife who would legitimize his own bloodline. The marriage Bertrandon de la Broquière observed between Byzantine Emperor John VIII and Empress Maria Komnene - the daughter of the Emperor of Trebizond - inflated the royal families’ prestige and justification for ruling even though, at the time of this marriage, neither Byzantium nor Trebizond occupied the majority of Byzantium’s former territories.40 Bertrandon himself seems to have been unaware that the

33 Shepard, “A Marriage Too Far?”, 133.34 Jonathan Shepard, “Western Approaches (900-1025),” in The Cambridge History of the Byzantine Empire c. 500-1492, ed. Jonathan Shepard (Cambridge - New York: Cambridge University Press, 2008), 546.35 Shepard, “Marriages Towards the Millennium” in Byzantium in the Year 1000, 5.36 Komnene, The Alexiad, 30.37 Ibid, 176.38 Runciman, “The Ladies of the Mongols,” 46.39 Matthew Blastares, Sexuality, Marriage, and Celibacy in Byzantine Law, 99, 113-115.

15When God Gives Constantine Daughters

literature - having devoted the most earnest study to the Greek language, in fact, and being not unpracticed in rhetoric and having read thoroughly the works of Aristotle and the dialogues of Plato, and having fortified my mind with the tetrakus of sciences.”48 The litotical construction of “οὐ γραμμάτον οὐχ ἄμοιρος / not without some acquaintance with literature” demonstrates the joy Komnene takes in using her literacy, while the subsequent list of subject area proficiencies indicates that Komnene took pride in her vast knowledge. From Komnene’s own positive opinion of her education, she views ardent study - at least when paired with pedigree - as sufficient qualification for entering into the realm of men’s work, here the writing of history, elsewhere statecraft. Throughout her work, Komnene provides examples of royal women negotiating marital alliances - a task so fraught with political implications that it would have only been entrusted to women had the emperor felt confident in their capacity to understand the full political landscape.49 Later, Komnene defends her father’s decision to “[transfer] the government of the empire to the women’s quarters” by pointing to her mother’s and grandmother’s adept administrative skills and familiarity with public affairs.50 While The Alexiad is the only source of those I have examined that offers representations of women operating in the male spheres of governance and writing history, the agency that Komnene ascribes to herself and her female relatives suggests that Byzantine brides to some degree were encouraged by their family to directly

each spouse, Connor concludes that Theophano was being represented as the equal half of a governing couple and therefore a woman in the position to serve a “diplomatic role” in her husband’s empire.44 Other claims Shepard has made about coins representing Peter of Bulgaria and Maria Lekapena as equals support Connor’s assessment of Theophano’s more prominent role in governing and representing her homeland’s interests in the Holy Roman Empire.45 Herrin goes farther than either of her colleagues when she asserts that Byzantine princesses were expected to serve diplomatic functions and were systematically encouraged to cultivate skills that would optimize their ambassadorial potential, especially literacy.46 Hilsdale’s analysis of the Greek text instructing a young girl how to become an augusta largely concurs with Herrin’s conclusions.47 Overall, scholars agree that Byzantine brides served as ambassadors in some capacity, but the lack of firsthand accounts from these women combined with multiple other factors (e.g. age, gender conceptions) complicate any reading of these women’s movements between Constantinople and their husbands’ courts.

Anna Komnene’s comments and assumptions about women in power contribute to a deeper understanding of how Byzantine princesses acted as ambassadors within their interdynastic marriages. In outlining her own qualifications to write her father’s history, Anna Komnene highlights her education: “[I am] not without some acquaintance with

40 Nicol observes that this practice among the many ruling families of the Byzantine world of intermarrying to gain legitimacy ultimately implodes when the Byzantine leaders become too few to intermarry. Donald M. Nicol, The Byzantine Lady: Ten Portraits, 1250–1500 (Cambridge–New York: Cambridge University Press, 1994), 124-125.41 Bertrandon on the one hand goes out of his way to observe and comment on the Empress’ beauty (100, 106) and on the other hand points out a pile of bones as those having belonged to the Western Crusaders slaughtered by the Byzantines (98). He also claims, “The Emperor of Constantino-ple is very much under the control of the Grand Turk” (104). Bertrandon de la Broquière, The Voyage d’Outremer, 98, 100, 104, 106.42 Shepard, “Marriages Towards the Millennium” in Byzantium in the Year 1000, 21.43 Ibid, 21-22.

16 Wickline

a union between two Byzantines (her parents) and not an inter-polity marriage, the emphasis on the mother’s family and its reaction to each birth sheds light on how emotionally invested a bride’s family was in the continuation of her husband’s family line: “[When I, Anna, was born] everyone was dancing and singing hymns, especially the close relatives of the empress, who could not contain themselves for delight.”56 Komnene’s rhetoric may exaggerate the matrilineal sentiment, but in identifying her mother’s family as a group particularly excited to learn of the first child’s birth, Komnene clearly identifies that the family of the bride had a vested interest in the couple’s procreation. Elsewhere, the husband and his family likewise sought to create optimal conditions for the children who resulted from these unions. In ibn Baṭṭūṭa’s account of Bayalun’s return to Constantinople to have a baby, her husband, the khan, takes pains to insure the mother and child’s well being: he consents to her voyage, financially provides for it, and has the most important members of his family with him to send her off with good wishes.57 The khan’s willingness to create conditions conducive to his wife’s comfort during pregnancy - even with the risk that she would not return after having the baby - suggests that the husbands of interdynastic unions went out of their way to insure the successful birth for their children. In sum, sources from the 10th - 15th century show both families of an interdynastic marriage alliance were eager to act in the best interest of the couple’s children.

participate the statecraft of their husbands’ territory and to represent Byzantine interests abroad.51

Procreation: Perhaps the most important function of Byzantine brides in foreign households was to provide their husbands with heirs. Vikan notes that procreation was widely understood to be the purpose of marriage throughout Byzantium.52 While The Alexiad indicates that childless emperors considered adopting or appointing heirs, heads of state throughout the medieval world preferred biological heirs to adopted sons.53 From a ruling man’s perspective, receiving heirs from the daughter of an ally increased the likelihood that this ally would not betray him for many years to come. For this very reason, contemporary dynasts viewed marital alliance as one of the most reliable tools for diplomacy.54 As seen in the discussion of physicality, motherhood offered women an opportunity to align themselves with the female archetype of Mary more closely than with Eve, the first sinner.55 The medieval world - possibly as a whole - understood the wifely function of providing children to be the paramount task of new brides, especially those responsible for carrying on a royal line.

The manner in which both the husband and wife’s family eagerly anticipated the couple’s issue evinces the extent to which dynasts were willing to honor political alliances reinforced by marriage ties. While Komnene provides an account of royal birth only in the context of

44 Connor, Women of Byzantium, 212.45 Shepard, “A Marriage Too Far?” 143.46 Judith Herrin, “Women in Byzantium,” in Unrivaled Influence: Women and Empire in Byzantium (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 2013), 8; Judith Herrin, Women in Purple: Rulers of Medieval Byzantium (London: Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 2000), 17-18.47 Hilsdale, “Constructing a Byzantine ‘Augusta,’” The Art Bulletin, 476.48 Komnene, The Alexiad, 3.49 Ibid., 51, 59.50 Ibid., 94, 96.

17

demonstrates the argumnt that her mother was the God-ordained partner in the emperor’s task of running the state.61 Even when Byzantium had extended marriage alliances to dynasties who did not share the Christian faith, there was always an understanding that the bride would insist on her husband’s conversion, thereby creating a couple that represented the Christian God where previously such a couple could not have existed.62 From the 10th - 15th century, Byzantine royal women entered into marriages with foreign rulers understanding that they were to serve as models of God for their people, even though this goal of marriage was mitigated in political climates that pressured emperors to marry their daughters to those the Church deemed heretics.

Among the vast array of factors considered in establishing interdynastic marital alliances and the functions a Byzantine princess was expected to perform, certain factors and functions remained fixed over time while others proved dynamic. First, in focusing on the factors considered when establishing alliances, the subtleties of birth rank disintegrated at some point following the 12th century. Whereas being a purple-born princess availed unique opportunities in the times of Liudprand of Cremona and Anna Komnene, ibn Baṭṭūṭa and Bertrandon de la Broquière appear altogether unaware of such a distinction. Unlike the changing subtleties of birth rank, women’s physicality seems to have been regarded in a uniform fashion across this time

Representation of God: Part of a Byzantine woman’s duty in a royal marriage was to govern with her husband in a way that modeled the Christian God’s just and merciful sovereignty over the world. In the mid-fifth century, marriage throughout the Byzantine Empire underwent a process of Christianization.58 From that point forward, Herrin notes, royal marriage in a Christian context took on a dimension of a “lifelong commitment” and conferred upon the royal couple a “shared responsibility” to govern in God’s image.59 Throughout these sources, Byzantine brides consistently serve as part of a couple representing God, although the importance of this role decreases in some political climates. While Liudprand of Cremona makes no explicit mention of Otto I’s prospective wife serving such a function, the fact that the two empires both participated in Christianity of one form or another indicates that the Byzantine family at least would have expected any bride they sent with Liudprand to uphold Christianity in a general sense. It is only later, in Anna Komnene’s writing, that an author explicitly claims that a married royal woman jointly represents God’s nature in collaboration with her husband to the people she serves. Komnene presents “good works and acts of charity” as her mother’s merciful counterbalance to her father’s waging of war - just as Christian doctrine establishes God’s mercy as a counterbalance to his justice.60 By later asking who could better protect the emperor against plots against his life than “his natural adviser [the empress],” Komnene

51 One can largely attribute the lack of first-hand account male voices supporting Anna Komnene’s claims of female agency to the contemporary bias against women, partly addressed in Physicality.52 Gary Vikan, “Art and Marriage in Early Byzantium,” Dumbarton Oaks Papers 38 (1984), 154.53 Komnene, The Alexiad, 52.54 Connor, Women of Byzantium, 209.55 Thalia Gouma-Peterson, “Gender and Power: Passages to the Maternal in Anna Komnene’s Alexiad,” in Anna Komnene and Her Times, ed. Thalia Gouma-Peterson (New York: Garland Publishing, 2000), 109.56 Ibid., 168.

When God Gives Constantine Daughters

18 Wickline

the royal family lost its ability to be selective in choosing whom its daughters would marry and thus which families it would legitimize. Eventually, Byzantine royal family members sought marriages that would reinforce their own claims to the throne. As far as the extent to which women were expected to serve as ambassadors for Byzantium in their husbands’ courts, contributions from other Byzantinists and Anna Komnene’s account of how her family regarded women’s education indicate that girls were prepared for the duties of a foreign diplomat and were expected to serve such a function in their marriages. Given the limited time frame Komnene’s account spans, it remains to be seen whether Byzantine brides were groomed in this way throughout the five centuries I have examined. Nevertheless, marital alliances often guaranteed peace through the existence of offspring loyal to both lines. Given the ways in which family members on the wife and husband’s side of the family were invested in the couple’s offspring, both royal families - for the most part throughout the 10th - 15th centuries - willingly consented to peace to insure that the couple’s children would thrive. Finally, women were expected to represent God’s character and sovereignty through upright governance with their husband throughout this six hundred year period, though the generations of women who married Mongols saw this goal minimized in importance. In sum, Byzantines went from offering to seeking legitimization as their global influence receded; ambassadorship was a function actively encouraged in and

period. Even in the highest echelons of society, women’s beauty spoke well of their character and increased their desirability as spouses; however, beneath an apparent reverence for the female form lay the persistent assumption that women’s bodies were inherently evil and inferior. Age likewise seems to have been taken into account in a similar manner throughout the practice of interdynastic marriages. A woman’s young age relative to her spouse situated her in a socially inferior position. A girl’s parents would mitigate the potentially dangerous impact of her childlike inferiority by choosing a spouse whom they believed to be in the girl’s best interest and by actively parenting their daughter even after she married. Of the apparent factors under consideration when a Byzantine royal woman was to be married off, the subtleties of birth rank faded over the 10th

- 15th centuries while those of physicality and age persisted.

As with the factors that went into forming marriage ties, some of the functions Byzantine brides were expected to serve during married life maintained their level of importance throughout the 10th - 15th centuries, while others waxed and waned over time. Throughout this time window, marriages between dynastic families had the potential to further legitimize the families’ right to rule. In the 10th - 12th centuries, non-Byzantine royal families sought out the emperor’s daughters and sisters to legitimize their own claim to the throne. As the Byzantine Empire decreased in strength,

59 Judith Herrin, “The Imperial Feminine in Byzantium,” in Unrivaled Influence: Women and Empire in Byzantium (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 2013), 174-175.60 Komnene, The Alexiad, 337; The Gospel according to John represents God’s nature by associating one character with mercy and another with justice in much the same way that Komnene associates one trait with her mother and another with her father: “For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through him. Whoever believes in him is not condemned, but whoever does not believe stands con-demned already because they have not believed in the name of God’s one and only Son.” Here the Son enacts God’s mercy, while the Father enacts God’s justice. (I take the subject, God, to refer to the Father rather than the whole Godhead given that Christ is referred to as his Son in the same passage;) John 3:17-18 NIV.

19

expected of Byzantine brides for some time; procreation always mattered greatly to all parties negotiating an interdynastic marriage; and representing God through a ruling couple was a goal of the Byzantine ruling family that decreased in importance as political pressures mandated.

Taking these conclusions forward, I hope that increased familiarity with the ebbing and flowing importance of these factors and functions of marriage will nuance scholarly understanding of women’s roles in the medieval world. While modern scholarship acknowledges that birth rank, physicality, and age contributed to the establishment of marriages, and while it grants that legitimization, ambassadorship, procreation, and the representation of God’s character and dominion through a ruling couple were all functions that Byzantine women were expected to serve, knowing the precise weight of each factor and function at the time of any given marriage will help Byzantinists to better understand the often inaccessible world of women in the Byzantine Empire.

61 Ibid., 339.62 Runciman, “The Ladies of the Mongols,” 49.

When God Gives Constantine Daughters

A Shipmentfrom Europe

James Madison’s Pre-Federalist Use of History as Rhetoric

by Matt Shuham

2

1 James Madison to Thomas Jefferson, March 18, 1786 in The Republic of Letters, ed. James Morton Smith (New York: W.W. Norton & Company, 1995).2 Ibid.3 “Founders Online: From Thomas Jefferson to James Madison, 11 November 1784,” accessed April 28, 2015, http://founders.archives.gov/documents/Jefferson/01-07-02-0367.4 Jefferson, Madison, and Smith, The Republic of Letters, 352–353.5 Ibid., 351.6 James Madison to Thomas Jefferson, March 16, 1784, from the National Archives, found on http://founders.archives.gov/documents/Madison/01-08-02-0002

“The mother lode of books ... some 45 titles representing around 200 physical volumes...”

On March 18th, 1786, James Madison wrote from Montpelier, his home in Orange, Virginia, to then Minister Thomas Jefferson, in

Paris. He thanked him for a recent shipment of books. “Since I have been at home I have had leisure to review the literary cargo, for which I am so much indebted to your friendship. The collection is perfectly to my mind,” he reported back.1 The subject of this letter, and a great influence on the Constitution of the United States, were two crates of books sent on the long journey across the Atlantic the previous year.

The books came at Madison’s request. As Jefferson established himself in France, he petitioned Madison, his friend and ally over the previous decade, for “a catalogue of the books you would be willing to buy, because they are often to be met with on stalls very cheap, and I would get them as occasions should arise.”2

In exchange, Jefferson requested that Madison pay an equal amount (“without bewildering ourselves in the exchange”) towards the schooling of his nephews.3 Early in his time abroad, before sending the crates, Jefferson had sent Madison books a few at a time, including Mariana’s History of Spain, and Jean-Zacharie Paradis de Raymondis’ Treaty on Morality and Happiness.4 Jefferson also shipped over other oddities, such as phosphorous matches.5

The mother lode of books traveling across the Atlantic was reported in a letter from Jefferson to Madison on September 1, 1785. In it, Jefferson lists his detailed record of purchases both for Madison’s assurance and for his own benefit: per their agreement, Madison would need to reimburse an equivalent amount to the schooling of Jefferson’s nephews. The list of books itself, some 45 titles representing around 200 physical volumes, is telling of both Madison’s intellectual curiosity and Jefferson’s skill as a book collector and curator. It certainly fulfills Madison’s requests for matter related to “rare & valuable books […] whatever may throw light on the general Constitution & droit public [public law] of the several confederacies which have existed.”6 But it also goes much further than the request, including books on nature, political philosophy, and additional history not strictly encompassed by Madison’s professed interests.

Scholarship about Madison’s use of this shipment of books is rare in the study of

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7 Rakove, Jack N. James Madison and the Creation of the American Republic. Library of American Biography. Glenview, Ill: Scott, Foresman/Little, Brown Higher Education, 1990. 8 Richard, Carl J. The Founders and the Classics: Greece, Rome, and the American Enlightenment. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1994.9 Meyerson, Michael. Liberty’s Blueprint: How Madison and Hamilton Wrote the Federalist Papers, Defined the Constitution, and Made Democracy Safe for the World. New York: Basic Books, 2008. 66.10 Ibid., 66-67.

in anticipation of writing a new Constitution. In this sense, history served as a repository of “anti-models,” in lawmaking.8

Michael Meyerson, in his Liberty’s Blueprint, places himself in the line of argument that asserts that Madison studied the “several confederacies” to understand the political philosophy necessary to create a new government. Meyerson, in researching Madison’s letters in the months before the convention at Philadelphia, describes them as “window[s] into Madison’s mind... With each one he grew more confident in his understanding and more detailed in his approach.” The historical research, then, is just one more step in understanding the policy challenges that a strengthened confederacy would face. The research, in Meyerson’s words, was to “appreciate the full rationale for creating a radically new political system and understand what changes were needed to ensure that the vices did not recur.” 9,10

Other lines of argument aren’t as tidy. Madison could have, for example, researched historical confederacies based on his own preconceived notions, looking for evidence to affirm his beliefs instead of challenging them. There is a well-documented history of his discontent with the Articles of Confederation months and years before his historical study began, and many of his conclusions stay consistent even after Jefferson’s shipment reaches Virginia. Madison would then use his

early national American history. Most view it as a friendly transaction between two deep-thinking founding fathers - a novel account of the transatlantic “Republic of Letters.” It is the assertion of this paper, however, that Madison requested books on the “several confederacies which have existed” as preparation for what would become perhaps the most important political campaign in our history: the adoption of a new Constitution over what Madison viewed as a deficient, dangerous interim governing document: the Articles of Confederation.7 James Madison used the history - especially Greek history - contained in Jefferson’s shipment of literary cargo as a rhetorical tool to convince other elite political figures of the need for a stronger centralized government. This is evident both in his letters before the Constitutional Convention, and his speeches in Philadelphia. The success in this effort was due in part to Madison’s masterful appropriation of historical example, but also to the cultural and class contexts of his time, which prioritized a classics-based education, and held historical record as a valuable tool for analyzing law and policy.

Historiography

What few histories of early America address Madison’s study of federal government, they take a wide variety of opinions about the importance of this work. Most see it as preparation for law-making itself: studying the challenges faced by historical confederacies

22 Shuham

11 Ibid., 7. 12 Jefferson, Madison, and Smith, The Republic of Letters, 352–353.13 “Founders Online: Notes on Ancient and Modern Confederacies, [April–June?] 1786,” accessed April 28, 2015, http://founders.archives.gov/doc-uments/Madison/01-09-02-0001.

a very defined split between elite and common people in the late 1780s. Indeed the classics, and the elite education more broadly, played a large part in this demarcation.

The move towards centralized federalism, and away from the “unruly” America that Holton describes, characterized by conflicting state interests and a weak image abroad, is often taken for granted. Madison’s efforts to incorporate history - especially ancient history - into his constitutional dialogues were instrumental in this shift of mind.

Foundational Writings

In the months following the books’ arrival in Virginia, Madison authored two brief sets of notes, “Ancient and Modern Confederacies” and “Vices of the Political System of the United States,” that testify to the importance he placed on studying history. In “Ancient and Modern Confederacies,” written between April and June of 1786, Madison

refreshed knowledge of federal governments to argue his views amongst a contentious group of political thinkers. Woody Holton argues this in Unruly Americans and the Origins of the Constitution, writing that Madison “did not need a crateful of books to figure out why the young republic had lost its way, for he had already formed his opinions in the course of day-to-day political struggles. What Madison was looking for as he performed his research was persuasive historical evidence for what his won practical experience had already taught him[.]”11

The purpose of this paper is to clarify exactly why Madison was so intent on studying the ancient and modern confederacies: was the research truly done in order to understand the path the ‘confederacy’ must take going forward? Was it to confirm Madison’s own, previously held views? My research has indicated a different reason for Madison’s work: that, more than any use of history as a foundational study for policy-making, Madison used it as a rhetorical tool, to influence some of the most important political elites across the country. With the knowledge gained from Jefferson’s shipment, Madison worked to convince decision-makers of the need for a stronger, more centralized federal government. This argument depends on a few conditions of the early national era, primary among which is the large part that classics in Madison’s education and in that other elites across the English-speaking continent. There also existed - despite populist expressions to the opposite effect in pamphlets and newspapers -

“... a rhetorical tool, to influence some of the most important political elites across the country.”

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Political System of the United States.” It is written in a format similar to that of a chapter in “Ancient and Modern Confederacies,” though it skips a section of historical context and goes straight for a list of constitutional problems, each with a paragraph or more of explanation. Written in April 1787, a month before the constitutional convention, it seems as though Madison wrote it for the Constitutional debate: the essay itself is written in a quick hand and has frequent edits and marginal notes, as if it had been written not as a permanent document, but rather one to cite and correct as the debate progressed. Similar to “Ancient and Modern Confederacies,” it is written in a booklet format and looks fairly worn.16,17

The original copy of “Vices of the Political System of the United States,” which Madison would have used during a floor debate at the convention, is littered with assorted marginalia, including five miniature hands, pointing at relevant examples and declarations to include in his speeches. Among them are various justifications for a notably strengthened central government under the new constitution, including a national veto of state law, for which Madison had recently begun to advocate.18 Under “Encroachments by the States on the federal authority” he highlights Georgia’s treaties with Native Americans, unlicensed compacts between various states, and standing troops in Massachusetts.19 Later, he “points out” the violation of treaties with France and Holland. Notably, under “7. want of sanction

stays true to his professed interests from a few months earlier, examining the Dutch, German, and Helvetic confederacies, plus the Lycian Confederacy of ancient Turkey, the Amphyctionic Confederacy of ancient Greece, and the Achæan Confederacy, also of Greece.12,13

In his collected notes, Madison splits each historical example into three parts: a short history, a listing of the “Fœderal Authority” of the central government, and the “Vices of the Constitution” of each government’s central system of law. He also includes in-text citations to many of the books that he had received from Jefferson a few months earlier. Most commonly cited, by a fairly large margin, is Fortuné-Barthélemy de Félice’s Code de l’humanité, ou la législation universelle, naturelle, civile et politique, avec l’histoire littéraire des plus grands hommes qui ont contribué à la perfection de ce code, referenced by Madison and Jefferson as Code de l’humanité.14 The encyclopedia was published by Félice (1723-1789) and written by him and 11 other authors, collectively the “Société de gens de lettres.”15 In a letter to Edmund Randolf, Jefferson describes Code de l’humanité as “an excellent work,” and it served as the source of much of the historical argument he employed to advocate for federalism.

Madison continued his practice of dissecting historical governments with an examination of the United States under the Articles of Confederation, “Vices of the

14 Ibid.15 J.152 from http://tjlibraries.monticello.org/transcripts/sowerby/II_73.html. The full society included also, according to the Sowerby Catalogue, “MM. Bouchaud, Bertrand, Tscharner, Andrié, Baron de Gorgier, De Jaucourt, De la Lande, Durand de Maillane, Mingard de Beau-Lieu, Maclaine, Molé”16 The James Madison Papers, from the Library of Congress, image #1005.

24 Shuham

Class and Education as Context

Before examining Madison’s own use of history, it is important to understand his audience’s understanding of it. Their reception of his appeals to ancient history and other sources was dependent upon their own upbringing, and the culture of education and rhetoric in which they lived.

Education was a tool for social mobility in the 1780s. At the time, American society, especially in the northeast, was focused on the classics both as a measure of merit and a valuable source of information about the world. For those who sought to attend college, either for religious life or the law, admissions procedures were fairly standardized and almost entirely focused on ancient history, literature, and philosophy.22 Education in these subjects, therefore, started early in life, and their effects as a hierarchical tool was well established: those who knew liberal arts were trusted to speak on matters of law and society. And they would set themselves apart to a very great degree: of the 2.5 million inhabitants in the colonies, only 3,000 had college educations at the time of the American Revolution. 23

Yet, despite this exclusivity, historical reference and an appreciation thereupon was widespread in the late 18th century. Writers and pamphleteers signed off with adopted historical names, and classical references,

to the laws, and of coercion in the Government of the Confederacy,” he articulates what would become a common call of many in the convention: “A sanction is essential to the idea of law, as coercion is to that of Government. The federal system being destitute of both, wants the great vital principles of a Political Cons[ti]tution.”20 This was a common fault articulated in “Ancient and Modern Confederacies,” and one that Madison would articulate throughout the Constitutional Convention.

In the same month that the “Vices of the Political System of the United States” was published, Madison wrote home to his father in anticipation of the coming Annapolis Convention, at which delegates would decide on whether or not to pursue constitutional reform. Madison wasn’t optimistic—he realized that “no very sanguine expectations can well be indulged. The probable diversity of opinions and prejudices, and of supposed or real interests among the States, renders the issue totally uncertain.” At the same time, he knew what had to be done to pursue change: “The existing embarrassments and mortal diseases of the Confederacy form the only ground of hope, that a Spirit of concession on all sides may be produced by the general chaos or at least partition of the Union which offers itself as the alternative.”21 The shortcomings of the current government had to be made clear to the delegates.

17 “Founders Online.”18 Alison L. LaCroix, “What if Madison Had Won? Imagining a World of Legislative Supremacy,” Indiana Law Review, 45:41, http://mckinneylaw.iu.edu/ilr/pdf/vol45p41.pdf19 “Amendment I (Religion): James Madison to William Bradford,” accessed April 28, 2015, http://press-pubs.uchicago.edu/founders/documents/amendI_religions16.html.

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and Roman themselves, most […] respected the intellectual evidence the classics upheld […] Even the poorest country parson could testify that a college degree raised a man’s status, and all recognized that the path to the professions lay through a liberal education.”26 This widespread acceptance of the supremacy of liberal arts provided a unique sort of pride for the American ruling class.27 As Jefferson, a devout fan of the Greek epic, said in a letter to Hector St. John de Crevecoeur, from Paris, “[o]urs are the only farmers who can read Homer.”28

Indeed, in the wake of the successful Revolution, popular culture at the time celebrated popular protest in the classical mold. A widely performed play at the time (George Washington’s favorite, as well), was Joseph Addison’s Cato, written in 1712. The retelling

of Cato the Younger’s opposition to Caesar contained strong anti-monarchical sentiment and was performed frequently in England, Ireland, and America. Self-consciously revolutionary and historical at once, it was a model for much of the most famous rhetoric of 1776, as David McCullough explores in his book named after that year.29 Most importantly for Madison, Cato was a model of ancient civilization situating modern dialogue

though perhaps ill-informed, abound in public writing of the time.24 This democratization of the idea of the classical history, regardless of any real knowledge of ancient history or culture, runs parallel to the idea of classical education as a tool for mobility. Carl Richard, in the introduction to his Founders and the Classics, states this very well:

“The canon exerted as great a homogenizing influence as that often ascribed to television today. Even those who fell outside the realm of formal education could not escape this form of social conditioning. Indeed, men who lacked formal education often proved even more eager to demonstrate their classical knowledge in order to secure status. Social conditioning left any unable to imagine the teaching of virtue independent of the teaching of the classics and, hence, made the transmission of the classical heritage an urgent concern.”25

The emphasis on the classics as a source of elite education and status affected much of Madison’s audience: the vast majority of delegates to the Constitutional convention were the first in their families to be educated in a traditional university setting, including Madison himself. And even if they hadn’t passed through a classical education, according to Richard, “whether or not they knew Greek

20 Ibid.21 “Founders Online”22 Richard, Carl J. The Founders and the Classics: Greece, Rome, and the American Enlightenment. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1994. 19.

“...oratory left the hands of elite interests ... and penetrated into people’s daily lives...”

26 Shuham

most important in private conversation, in which the culture of credit and personal repute were of the upmost importance. Second, public rhetoric (in speeches or essays) depended on altering the mood of the audience. Finally, declaratory and governmental documents relied on universal truths. As Fliegelman points out, these categories, especially the third, left little room for “authorial innovation.” Instead, speakers (and authors) were forced to rely on appeals that are self-justifying. These included the popular will (vox populi), religious reason (vox dei), and, notably, “the oracle of history.”

It’s no surprise, then, that in 1774 Benjamin Franklin said that “history affords us instances of the ruin of states, by the prosecution of measures ill-suited to the temper and genius of their people.”32 Jefferson echoed this: “History by apprising [citizens] of the past will enable them to judge of the future; it will avail them of the experience of other times and other nations; it will qualify them as judges of the actions and designs of men; it will enable them to know ambition under every disguise it may assume; and knowing it, to defeat its views.”33 And John Adams, with his Discourses on Davila, took this point to its extreme, in asserting that reflection on history alone was a suitable way to ruminate on American politics. For Madison to use history as a method of rhetoric during the pre-convention period could have been expected.

on rights, politics, and the role of government.

The Rhetorical Revolution

The impact of ancient Greek and Roman history on the United States affected public and private discourse, as well. The same values and historicity that gave rise to Cato also affected the rhetoric of the early national period. First, public oratory shifted away from the clergy and towards political and cultural speeches that emphasized historical appeal and emotional weight.30,31 Second, the value of history as a topic of public discussion and a tool for making and presenting policy and politics increased.

As Jay Fliegelman writes in Declaring Independence, the United States went through an “elocutionary revolution” in the latter 18th century. During this shift, oratory left the hands of elite interests – the clergy, royal administrators – and penetrated into peoples’ daily lives, as a mode of discussing politics and the future. Politics, incidentally, became a mode of discussion in a way that lessened the importance of religious dialogue.

This rise of oratory as popular dialogue, coupled with the heavy dependence on classics as an educational tool, created a unique atmosphere for rhetoric. Aristotle’s Rhetoric, for example, was established as an educational model for three kinds of public oratory: first, the character of the speaker (or author) was

23 Winterer, Caroline. The Culture of Classicism: Ancient Greece and Rome in American Intellectual Life, 1780-1910. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2002. 16. 24 Charles F. Mullett, “Classical Influences on the American Revolution,” in The Classical Journal, Vol. 35, No. 2 (Nov., 1939), pp. 92-104. Published by: The Classical Association of the Middle West and South. http://www.jstor.org/stable/3291341 25 Richard, Carl J. The Founders and the Classics. 10.26 Ibid., 20.27 Ibid. At the time, liberal arts would mean… “classics, logic, theology, philosophy, and moral training.” Interestingly, this was also when the purpose of classics switched from clergy to anti-tyranny.

27A Shipment from Europe

against the concentrated power of the elites. He also, in Jefferson’s words, “read nothing and had no books,” and “could not write.”34 This presents a direct opposite to Madison: his most effective persuasion happened one-on-one, in letters with fellow learned men. As Fliegelman describes: “In contrast to Socratic dialectic, which involved one-to-one communication, [Patrick Henry’s] rhetoric involved addressing the “multitudes,’ a fact that stimulated [Edmund] Randolph, as it had in Plato, fears of democracy.”35

These two figures are representative of a broader tension in early American rhetoric. Patrick Henry spoke to many people about the dangers of tyranny, oligarchy, and elitism. He later extended this line of thought onto a virulent strain of anti-federalism. He was of the Roman mold, in every way. James Madison spoke directly to others in power, either alone or in groups. He spoke of the dangers of foreign invasion or internal chaos or dissolution. He used the Greek historical tradition to justify these views: his was a Socratic dialogue, not a Roman oratory.

It would not be until The Federalist that we see Madison attempts to communicate to the People (vox populi) in any meaningful way. Notably, he uses history there just as much as in his more private communications. Federalist 18 mentions the Amphyctionic Confederacy, Germany appears in 19, the Lycian Confederacy is represented in 45, and

The Rhetoric of Greece and Rome

As a result of the conflict between the popular will and elite concerns, there was a great tension between the sentiments of Greek and Roman history in the years’ run-up to the Constitutional Convention. Greece was commonly seen as an anti-model for its weakness due to decentralization, while Rome was seen as imperialist and too corrupt. Alexander Adam, a Scottish schoolmaster and author of the textbook Roman Antiquities, defines this tension in articulating his hope that a classical education “impress[es] upon the minds of youth just sentiments of government in general, by showing on the one hand the pernicious effects of aristocratic domination; and on the other, the still more hurtful consequences of democratic licentiousness.”

But which was worse, really, aristocratic domination or democratic licentiousness? This debate played out in letters and speeches throughout early American history. Madison, with his emphasis on a strengthened federal government immune to the dangerous whims of the states, was firmly on one side. Patrick Henry was on the other. Though the well-known speaker had, unlike the majority of men of his stature, little experience in the classics, he embodied the anti-tyrannical pole that Alexander Adam situated. Henry gave rousing speeches to crowds of assembled hundreds. During the Revolution, he compared King George to Caesar, and urged listeners to fight

28 Shuham

28 “Founders Online: From Thomas Jefferson to St. John de Crèvecoeur, 15 January 1787,” accessed April 28, 2015, http://founders.archives.gov/documents/Jefferson/01-11-02-0041. 29 McCullough, David G. 1776. New York: Simon & Schuster, 2005.30 This accompanied a similar shift in the purpose of a college education - more students saw college, and the classics, as an education in anti-tyranny 31 Fliegelman, Jay. Declaring Independence: Jefferson, Natural Language & the Culture of Performance. Stanford, Calif.: Stanford University Press, 1993. 34.32 “Emblematical Representations,” ca. 1774

29

grammars and some volumes on divinity.”40

In his professional life, Madison felt the influence of his education intensely. In the summer of 1782 he was selected to chair a three-person commission charged with compiling “a list of books to be imported for the use of the United States in Congress Assembled,” the results of which are an Enlightened mélange of political thought, law, and huge amounts of history. The proposed library was broken into twelve sections, including “General History,” “Chronology,” and “Particular History,” which itself broke down historical study into specific units (by country, city-state, etc.) and included substantial sections on everything from ancient Greece to modern Germany and Sweden.41 Modern editors of the list William T. Hutchinson and William M. E. Rachal note that “during the latter half of 1782 the primary issues before Congress concerned finance, commerce, prisoners of war, western lands, and international affairs, including the alliance with France, the hoped-for terms of peace, the unsatisfactory relations with Spain, and the treaties with the Netherlands and Sweden. Most of the subject classifications in Madison’s report reflect the needs of Congress for the guidance of authoritative works on these topics.”42 Still, most of these concerns are covered in two sections: “Law of Nature and Nations,” and “Treatises and Negotiations.” The inclusion of so much history in the library proposal is a testament to both the role of history in decision-making at the time, broadly,

so on. However, for Madison’s best historical displays, one must begin with his own personal history.

“A Candid Examination of History”

Our earliest recorded writing from James Madison comes from his commonplace book, in which he began writing at age 8. In it, we see his first forays into the world of history. Carl J. Richard, in his The Founders and the Classics, establishes just how central the ancient world was to Madison: even as a young boy, Madison ignored translations to English and instead wrote the original Latin in his commonplace book, on a wide variety of subjects from philosophy to art.36 On history, he quotes Tacitus, Plutarch, Eutropius, and others. When studying Greek, he learned from Plutarch, Herodotus, and Thucydides.37 It’s evident that he was skilled in Latin from a very young age, and that Greek followed not long after.38 He was doubly advantaged due to his tutor at the time, Donald Robertson, formerly a professor in Scotland who immigrated to America to foster young minds. It was his teaching that gave Madison’s French its strange accent, and his collected books and enthusiasm that instilled a love of learning in the young pupil.39 Ralph Ketcham, in his definitive biography on Madison, discusses the huge privilege of such a talented mentor, as opposed to the rote, authoritarian model all too common in the New World – those “ignorant, indifferent tutors or rectors who owned only a few Latin

A Shipment from Europe

33 Jefferson, Thomas. Notes on the State of Virginia. Edited by William Peden. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press for the Institute of Early American History and Culture, Williamsburg, Virginia, 1954. http://press-pubs.uchicago.edu/founders/documents/v1ch18s16.html 34 Fliegelman, Jay. Declaring Independence. 95.35 Ibid., 96.36 Richard, Carl J. The Founders and the Classics.37 The Papers of James Madison Digital Edition, J. C. A. Stagg, editor. Charlottesville: University of Virginia Press, Rotunda, 2010. http://rotunda.upress.virginia.edu/founders/JSMN-01-01-02-000238 Ibid.

Union.”

Here, perhaps just weeks after receiving Jefferson’s shipment of books, Madison uses the impressive catalogue of historical reference on his audience before moving onto more concrete plans. Jack Rakove’s characterization rings true: “Madison’s political career and influence rested, quite simply, on the notion that a man who did his homework and thought through issues and alternatives before debate began could often lead his lazier colleagues — of whom there would always be many — along the avenues he had selected.”43 The use of history was supposed to be impactful. Patrick Henry defined the mood of many in saying “I have but one lamp by which my feet are guided, and that is the lamp of experience.”

This all suggests that Madison used history rhetorically instead of substantially. Nearly every one of his historical allusions groups together wildly disparate examples. In the above notes, he talks about Greece, Switzerland, The Netherlands, and the United States all in the same bullet point. He displays a similar pace throughout the late 1780s, when he employed this strategy frequently.

Below this blatant impression-making, Madison aimed to appeal to two very specific fears that contemporary elites had: first, the fear of foreign infiltration into post-Revolutionary America, and second, the fear of democratic mob rule. However, both of these appeals

but also the esteem in which Madison, the primary author of the list, held history in relation to other subjects.

The Historical Rhetoric of a New Constitution

Throughout his professional career, this instrumental reliance on history, and most notably, ancient history, is front and center. Regarding the subject of this paper, the pre-convention years and the convention itself, Madison’s historical study showed up everywhere. An early instance is manifest in his notes for congressional debate in late November, 1785. The brief outline shows a pattern that becomes Madison’s calling card: vague references to the past coupled with specific calls for the present:

“Safe. 1. with regd. to liberties of States(1) control over Congs. (2) Greece Swiss (3) Dutch. (4) peculia[r] situation of U. S. 2. with regd. to Virga.(1) Tobo. (2.) Ships (3.) coast trade lo[c]al—————(4) 5. S. States — Cont. & N. J—————Necessary to preserve a Confederation.(1) decline of Congs. (2) inadequacy to end(3) G. B. aims to break the Union, as to monopoly of Trad[e]Consequences of breaking or dissolving

30 Shuham

39 Spurlin, Paul M. “The Founding Fathers and the French Language.” The Modern Language Journal 60, no. 3 (March 1, 1976): 85–96.40 Ketcham, Ralph Louis. James Madison; a biography,. New York, N.Y.: Macmillan, 1971. 20.41 “Founders Online: Report on Books for Congress, [23 January] 1783,” accessed April 28, 2015, http://founders.archives.gov/documents/Madi-son/01-06-02-0031.42 Ibid. 43 Rakove, Jack N., and Oscar Handlin. James Madison and the creation of the American Republic. Glenview, Ill.: Scott, Foresman/Little, Brown Higher Education, 1990.

31

In a floor speech at the convention, Madison spelled out the consequences of disunion among the Amphyctionic Council: “Philip at length taking advantage of their disunion, and insinuating himself into their Councils, made himself master of their fortunes.” In a letter to Jefferson in October 1787, “[The weak centralized government] of the Amphyctions is well known to have been rendered of little use whilst it lasted, and in the end to have been destroyed by the predominance of the local over the federal authority.”45

And, in another convention speech, we see a perfect example of his appeals to the delegates’ fears of ‘mobocracy’: “I apprehended the greatest danger is from the encroachment of the states on the national government—This apprehension is justly founded on the experience of ancient confederacies, and our own is a proof of it.”46

To the generation who prided themselves not only on their newfound freedom, but also on the veneer of popular participation and local and individual rights associated with the Revolution, Madison offered a stark choice: centralize, or be compromised. In other words, the two possibilities in America’s future, without significant constitutional reform, were invasion by foreign powers working in concert with loyalists (or other traitors), or certain states banding together to inhibit constitutional progress. Either way, these would inhibit the move towards a stronger central government

lead towards one result, for Madison: his ultimate goal; the establishment of a federalist system that would emphasize the strength of a centralized government and its role both in protecting individual liberties and maintaining order in the new nation.

“Will the Jersey plan prevent foreign influence?” Madison wonders aloud about the New Jersey plan, in conventional debate June 19th, 1787. “Did not Persia and Macedon distract the councils of Greece by acts of corruption?”44 The history of Philip of Macedon disrupting the Greek confederate government was well-worn by Madison. It represented the fears of many at the time that foreign powers, Britain chief among them, would attempt to invade or otherwise infiltrate the nascent American government. Madison’s unique flavor of federalism answered this fear of foreign invasion, but much more than that, it established strong federal economic and legal control over the states.

In a letter to Thomas Jefferson, then still in Paris, he used history in a similar way. “Two considerations particularly remonstrate against delay,” he said. “One is the danger of having the same game played on our confederacy by which Philip [man]aged that of the Grecian state. […] The other consideration is the probability of an early increase of the confederated states which more than proportion[ally] impede measures which require unanimity…” Philip of Macedon stayed with Madison in Philadelphia.

A Shipment from Europe

44 “Founders Online: Reply to the New Jersey Plan, [19 June] 1787,” accessed April 28, 2015, http://founders.archives.gov/documents/Madi-son/01-10-02-0036.45 “Founders Online.”46 “Founders Online: Relationship between Federal and State Governments, [21 June] …,” accessed April 28, 2015, http://founders.archives.gov/documents/Madison/01-10-02-0038.

1. dictionnaire de Trevoux. 5. vol. fol @ 5f122. La Conquista di Mexico. De Solis. fol. 7f10. Relieure 7f3. Traité de morale et de bonheur. 12mo. 2. v. in 1.4. Wicquefort de l’Ambassadeur. 2. v. 4to.5. Burlamaqui. Pricipes de droit Politique 4to. 3f12 reieure 2f56. Conquista de la China por el Tarataro por Palafox. 12mo.7. Code de l’humanité de Felice. 12. v. 4to.8. 13. first livraisons of the Encylopedie 47. vols. 4to. (being 48f less than subscription)9. 14th. livraison of do. 4. v. 4to.10. Peyssonel11. Bibliotheque physico-œconomique. 4. v. 12mo. 10f4. rel. 3f12. Culivateir Americain. 2 v. 8vo. 7f17. rel. 2f10.13. Mirabeau sur l’ordre des Cincinnati. 10f10. rel 1f5 (prohibited)14. Coustumes Anglo-Normands de Houard. 4. v. 4to. 40f rel. 10f15. Memoires sur ‘Amerique. 4. v. 4to.16. Tott sur les Turcs. 4. v. in 2. 8vo. 10f. rel. 2f10.17. Neckar sur l’Administration de Finances de France. 3. v. 12mo. 7f10 rel. 2f518. le bon-sens. 12 mo. 6f rel. 15s (prohibited)

and cost Madison the very object of his letters and speeches.

Conclusion

When the convention adjourned and the ratifying process continued on to each of the individual states, so did Madison, along with a great deal of historical rhetoric. And while The Federalist falls out of the scope of this paper, it’s one more piece of evidence of how committed Madison was to his rhetorical efforts. In The Federalist Papers, in addition to re-using the same case studies that appear in “Ancient and Modern Confederacies,” there are also new examples, from a new source. Madison wrote “Additional Memorandums on Ancient and Modern Confederacies” some time before November 30, 1787 (a month after the Constitutional Convention adjourned). The new writing, in the same model as his original notes, details a full list of new historical examples. His organizational headers indicate that he’s interested in “examples showing defect of mere confederacies,” “examples of

32 Shuham

A List of Books Purchased by Jefferson for Madison with costs omitted - 1st September, 1785

hostile consequences of rival communities not united by one Government.” Madison’s new case studies are also notable: in addition to Sweden, Denmark, and Norway, he has Carthage, Sparta, and Rome.

History abounds in James Madison’s appeals to the American voting public, just as it does in his appeal to their elite representatives at the Convention. We can see nothing but political mastery in his display, both in successfully appropriating the past, but also for navigating—so delicately as to make it almost unnoticeable—the tides of current social and educational trends. Madison’s use of history as rhetoric in the months prior to the Constitutional Convention is an example of America’s best political scientist of the era, and perhaps best political strategist as well, at work. And while there is more work to do on the legacy of Jefferson’s shipment of literary cargo to West Orange, Virginia, there is certainly evidence that the pages in those books are cast across America’s first successful national political campaign.

33A Shipment from Europe

19. Mably. Principes de morale20. v. 12mo. a. etude de l’historie 1. b. maniere d’ecrire l’historie 1. c. constitution d’Amerique 1. d. sur l’historie de France. 2. v. e. droit de l’Europe 3. v. f. ordres des societies g. principes de negotiations h. entretiens de Phocion i. des Romains21. Wanting to complete Mably’s works which I have not been able to procure[:]22. les principes de legislation23. sur les Grecs24. sur la Pologne25. [[page break]]26. Chronologie des empires anciennes de la Combe. 1. v. 8vo. a. de l’historie universelle de Hornot. 1. v. 8vo. 4f b. de l’historie universelle de Berlié 1. v. 8vo. 2f10 rel. 1f5 c. des empereurs Romains par Richer 2. v. 8vo. 8f rel. 2f10 d. des Juifs. 1. v. 8vo. 3f10. rel. 1f5 e. de l’historie universelle par Du Fresnoy. 2. v. 8vo. 13f rel. 2f10 f. de l’historie du Nord. par La Combe 2. v. 8vo. 10f. rel, 2f10 g. de France. par Henault. 3. v. 8vo. 12f rel. 3f1527. Memoires de Voltaire. 2. v. in 1. 2f10 rel. 15s28. Linnaeu Philosophie Botanica .1 v. 8vo. 7f rel. 1f5. a. Genera plantarum. 1. v. 8vo. 8f rel. 1f5 b. Species plantarum 1. v. 8vo. 8f rel. 1f5 c. Systema naturae 4. v. 8vo. 26f rel. 5f29. Clayton. Flora Virginica 4to. 12f. rel. 2f10.30. D’Albon sur l’interet de plusieurs nations. 4. v. 12mo. 12f. rel. 3f31. Systeme de la nature de Diderot. 3. v. 8vo. 21f (prohibited)32. Coussin histoire Romaine. {16. vols. 12mo}33. v. in 1. 12mo. a. de Constantinople 8. v. in 10. b. de l’empire de l’Occident 2. v. c. de l’eglise. 5. v. in 3. 34. Droit de la Nature. por Wolff. 6. v. 12mo. 15f rel. 4f1035. Voyage de Pagét 8vo. 3. v. in 1.36. Mirabeau. Ami des homes 5. v. 12mo. a. Theorie de l’import 2. v. in 1. 12 mo.37. Buffon. Supplement 11. 12. Oiseaux 17. 18. Mineraux 1. 2. 3. 4. 38. Lettres de Pascal. 12mo. 2f. rel. 15s.39. Le sage á la cour et le roi voiaguer (prohibited)40. Principes de legislation universelle 2. v. 8vo.41. Ordonnances de la Marine par Valin. 2. v. 4to.42. Diderot sur les sourds and muets 12mo. {4. v. 12mo.} a. 3f12. sur les b. aveugles 3f. sur la nature 3f. sur la c. morale 3f1543. Mariana’s history of Spain 11. v. 12mo.44. 2 trunks and packing paper.

Galata andConstantinople

A Portrait of Fragmentation in the Eastern Mediterranean

by Richard Rush

3

Turks, and crusaders. The intersection of all of these entities with their own particular goals in what was once the Byzantine Empire made for a politically fragmented region where anyone with a little ambition, modest resources, and the right title had a chance to become a ruler, a noble, or at least a pirate. Galata’s own rise in power and its relationship with Byzantine Constantinople serves as an illustration of the unstable world that was the late Medieval Eastern Mediterranean.

Galata’s story as a Genoese possession begins with the ambitions of the Nicaean Emperor Michael VIII Palaeologus.3 Early in 1261 Michael VIII needed a powerful ally, particularly one with a strong navy. Over the previous three years he had usurped the

throne to the Empire of Nicaea and invaded Thrace, defeating a coalition army of Despot Michael II of Epiros, King Manfred of Sicily, and William Villehardouin of Achaia, who was the leader of the coalition.4 Michael’s victory firmly established Nicaean control in Europe. However, Michael VIII did not desire

1 Galata is also known as Pera, and the two terms are interchangeable. For consistency in this essay, I will use Galata. 2 Nicol, Donald M., The last centuries of Byzantium, 1261-1453; (Great Britain, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1993), 221. 3 In 1204 the Fourth Crusade sacked Constantinople, deposed the Byzantine Emperor, and divided the Byzantine Empire among the crusaders. However, the crusaders were unable to establish control over the entire territory and three successor states ruled by Byzantine Emperors were established in Trebizond, Epiros, and Nicaea. (Jonathan Harris, Byzantium and the Crusades, (Lancaster: Bloomsbury Academic, 2003), 165). By 1260 the Empire of Nicaea was in a position to attempt to retake Constantinople. Trebizond was too far away from Constantinople to launch an effective military campaign and the Despotate of Epiros was too constantly engaged in war with the Bulgarians to attempt an attack on the city. (Harris, Byzantium and the Crusades, 171-173).4 Geanakoplos, John Denos, Emperor Michael Palaeologus and the West; (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1959), 47.

“Galata’s strength grew to the point that it could even declare war on the Byzantine Empire...”

Constantinople lies on a triangular peninsula at the south end of the European side of the Bosporus. The southeast side of the city was

protected by the Sea of Marmara, and the west-facing landside of Constantinople - by the four mile long Theodosian Walls which had defended the city for over a millennium. Finally, on the north side of the triangle is the Golden Horn, a large estuary that served as a natural harbor for the city. Galata1 lies just across the Golden Horn from ancient Constantinople. While Galata is very close to Constantinople, it was not always a suburb of its larger sister city as it is today. Rather, during the reign of the Byzantine emperors, it was its own separate city complete with its own set of city walls. Only a fraction of the size of Constantinople and just across a narrow harbor from the seat of Byzantine power, Galata would not have been expected to play a significant role in late Byzantine history. However, that is not the case. During the 13th century Galata achieved independence from Byzantine rule as a Genoese colony and developed its economy to the point where it was collecting seven times more tax revenue than its much larger neighbor.2 Galata’s strength grew to the point that it could even declare war on the Byzantine Empire, despite being less than a quarter mile from Constantinople! Galata’s rise in power was made possible largely by both the weakening of the Byzantine state and the growing influence of newcomers to the Eastern Mediterranean, such as Italian city-states,

35Galata and Constantinople

of Constantinople along with previous Venetian property within the city, have absolute control of the city of Smyrna (modern-day Izmir) and exclusive trading rights in Byzantine waters (including the Black Sea), and accept a tribute of 500 hyperpyra annually for the Archbishop of Genoa.8 Furthermore, the Genoese would be allowed to set up an autonomous colonial system “governed by their own consuls with administrative and judicial authority, civil as well as criminal.”9 The ability of Genoese colonies to set up their own governments proved to have important ramifications in later years. It allowed the colonies to make policy decisions independently from the Byzantine Emperor and, to a lesser extent, from Genoa itself.

Michael VIII understood the dangers of allowing a foreign power to operate so freely within his borders. Therefore, he also stipulated that the Genoese courts would punish traitors to the Palaeologus dynasty identically to Genoese traitors. Genoa was to supply Byzantium with horses and arms for the siege, Genoa’s navy was to remain at the Emperor’s disposal even after Constantinople had been conquered, and any Genoese resident within the Byzantine Empire was to assist in the defense of Byzantium should it come under attack.10 From these stipulations, it is evident that Michael VIII had a long-term arrangement in mind in which Genoa’s influence in the Aegean would remain under close supervision from Constantinople. The strict nature of this supervision is illustrated in

5 Harris, Byzantium and the Crusades, 163-164. 6 Geanakoplos, Emperor Michael Palaeologus and the West, 82. 7 Harris, Byzantium and the Crusades, 163-164. 8 Geanakoplos, John Denos; Byzantium. (Chicago and London: University of Chicago Press, 1984) 288-289.9 Ibid., 288-289.10 Geanakoplos, Byzantium, 288-289.

36 Rush

to be the Emperor of Nicaea; he wanted to be the Emperor of Byzantium. The Byzantine Emperor ruled from Constantinople, not Nicaea. It was Michael’s dream to recapture Constantinople from the Latins, who had conquered the city in 1204, and reestablish the Byzantine Empire to its former glory. Despite the Nicaean Empire’s growing military strength on land, its fleet was too small to challenge the Venetian navy supporting the Latin rulers of Constantinople. In order to conquer the city Michael needed a navy to blockade it. When a ruler needed to hire a fleet during the 13th century, he would almost certainly be able to find one amongst the various coastal city-states in Italy. Venice was already allied with the Latin Emperors in Constantinople and had a vested interest in protecting the trading privileges it had earned helping the crusaders capture Constantinople from the Byzantines in the first place.5 Therefore, Michael VIII offered to make an alliance with Genoa, the only Italian city-state with a navy that could challenge Venice.6

In addition to Genoa’s bitter rivalry with Venice, it had lost the right to trade in Constantinople in 1204 when it was captured by the Fourth Crusade.7 Therefore, the Genoese made ready partners for Michael VIII. Genoese assistance was not free though. As outlined in the Treaty of Nymphaeum, signed in 1261 to formalize the alliance, Genoa was to be exempted from all trade duties inside the Byzantine Empire, receive its own quarter inside

in 1453. In 1267 he granted the Genoese the suburb across the Golden Horn, Galata.

Galata’s position right on the mouth of the Golden Horn makes it a very important position for the defense of Constantinople, so it seems odd that Michael VIII would give it to the Genoese. Michael VIII was particularly aware of the importance of Galata to the defense of Constantinople. He had personally failed to take Galata by force when he was first trying to capture Constantinople in 1260.12

Yet, giving the Genoese their own quarters outside the walls of Constantinople did have its advantages. It reduced tensions between the Greeks, Genoese, and other Italian citizens within the city. Furthermore, in the event of an attack on Constantinople, the Genoese would

almost be forced to aid in the defense of the city. Michael VIII also knew that Genoa could become hostile at some future point, and giving them quarters outside of Constantinople would reduce the threat of an aggressive foreign power already having a foothold inside the city.13 Michael VIII’s concession to the Genoese demonstrated that he had not yet fully been able to restore Byzantine influence to its previous level in the Mediterranean world by

the Genoese being permitted to have quarters inside Constantinople and other cities, not outside of them. It is important to note that Galata was not mentioned in the Treaty of Nymphaeon. The intended Genoese placement inside Constantinople, not controlling their own city, meant that the Genoese, despite having their own government, would have been particularly vulnerable to the Byzantine Emperor. However, the Genoese were not given an opportunity to hold up their end of the treaty. Some of Michael VIII’s men were able to sneak into Constantinople and open a gate, allowing the Byzantine forces to enter the city and depose the Latin Emperor Baldwin II without a siege.11

Yet the reestablished Byzantine Empire still needed an Italian ally. Charles Anjou of the Kingdom of Sicily had designs on Byzantium’s new lands in Thrace. Michael’s naval power was too weak to prevent a Sicilian invasion on the west coast of the Balkans and he was forced to seek Genoese assistance. The Genoese drove a hard bargain though. In order to secure Genoa’s continued support Michael VIII made a decision that was to haunt Byzantine Emperors until their fall to the Ottoman Turks

11 Geanakoplos, Emperor Michael Palaeologus and the West, 104-105 12 Ibid., 76-79.13 Ibid., 207.

37Galata and Constantinople

“Michael’s naval power was too weak to prevent a Sicilian invasion ... and he was

forced to seek Genoese assistance.”

observance of these ceremonies and make sure that the Genoese possession of Galata was merely at his pleasure. This is clearly illustrated in that Michael had the walls of Galata destroyed before the Genoese colonists arrived in Galata.16 Two other separate incidents further demonstrate to what lengths Michael went to ensure that the Genoese acknowledged his authority. Once, a Genoese resident was boasting to a Greek that the Latins would once again conquer Constantinople. In reply the Greek slapped the Genoese man, who in turn killed the Greek. When Michael VIII heard about the incident, he was so enraged that he threatened to expel the entire Genoese population from Galata. However, he permitted them to stay only after receiving a large indemnity from the Genoese.17 The second incident occurred when two Genoese ships failed to salute the Emperor after sailing past his Palace. At first Michael only requested that the Genoese of Galata persuade their fellow citizens to render the proper salute the next time they sailed by. However, the two Genoese ships failed to salute the Emperor once again. In response, Michael VIII dispatched some ships of his own to capture the Genoese ships. After the Genoese were captured, Michael ordered that the offenders be punished with blinding.18

The fact that Michael was able to enforce the observance of the ceremonial respect of the Emperor and to legitimately threaten to expel the Genoese from Galata shows the balance of power between the two states

14 Ibid., 208.15 Ibid.16 Ibid.17 This incident was recorded by the Greek chronicler, Pachymeres. Ibid., 250.18 Ibid., 251-252.

38 Rush

1267 and also highlights the degree of political fragmentation of the Aegean World during this period. Prior to 1204, the Byzantine Empire controlled western Anatolia, Greece, the Balkans, and the islands of the Aegean. However, even after extensive campaigning, Michael VIII was still unable to restore Byzantium’s previous borders. Instead, Latin possessions dotted the Aegean and the Balkans as the result of the Fourth Crusade. Having Genoese Galata just across the Golden Horn from Byzantine-controlled Constantinople provides a small picture that parallels the degree and nature of political fragmentation of the Eastern Mediterranean from 1267 to 1453.

Regardless of political fragmentation in what had once been Byzantine territory, the terms on which the Genoese accepted this concession highlight that fact that Michael VIII Palaeologus was still Emperor. When in the Emperor’s presence the Genoese podestá (chief official) was to kneel and kiss the sovereign’s hands and feet, and any Genoese ships that sailed past the imperial palace in Constantinople were to render a salute.14 Neither of these was required of other Italian city-states such as Venice or Pisa.15

Practically speaking, these ceremonial gestures by themselves say little about Byzantine-Genoese relations outside of the city of Constantinople. However, Michael VIII was actually able to, and did, enforce the

the Bosporus. From this point on, Byzantium would never be in a position to enforce its rule outside of Constantinople’s walls as it had under Michael VIII.

One of the natural consequences of having a Genoese colony in such a strategically important position was that they became entangled in each other’s conflicts. This was particularly dangerous for Byzantium at this time, now deprived of its own fleet. By 1296 Genoa and Venice were at war, and as Galata and other Genoese colonies in the Black Sea were among the most important possessions of Genoa, it is hardly surprising that the war was carried to Constantinople. In anticipation of the possibility of a war in Byzantine waters between the maritime powers and as a part of the cuts in military spending by Andronicus in 1285, Byzantium signed a treaty with Venice

that prohibited Venetian-Genoese hostilities from Abydus, on the Dardanelles, into the Black Sea.20 However, on July 22, 1296, a Venetian fleet of 70 ships attacked Galata in blatant disregard

during the reign of Michael VIII. Byzantium did not have the necessary strength to operate independently of its allies in Italy outside of the Aegean. However, it was certainly strong enough to steer the politics of the Aegean. Genoa was also discovering the limits of its local power. While Byzantium needed Genoa for its navy, Genoa’s position in the Aegean was still vulnerable in its own right. Genoa did not have the military power on land to ensure the safety of its new possession, Galata, especially without fortifications. Furthermore, while the Byzantines needed the Genoese navy to help counter the threat of Charles of Anjou attacking across the Adriatic Sea, Byzantium did have the naval strength to control its own waters in the northern Aegean Sea. Thus Byzantium also regulated maritime trade traveling through the Bosporus between the Black Sea and the rest of the Mediterranean.

The first major shift in influence from the Byzantine Empire to the Genoese after 1267 came in 1285. Michael VIII’s expansionary policies and capital intensive diplomacy stretched Byzantium’s resources quite thin. Therefore, his son, Andronicus, in an attempt to ease the strain on his empire’s resources, made a fateful decision: he significantly reduced the size of the army to operate more cheaply and completely disbanded his navy of 80 warships.19 This change was made on the assumption that the Genoese would remain faithful allies and made the Byzantine Empire utterly reliant on the Genoese navy, even in

19 Nicol, The last centuries of Byzantium, 1261-1453, 107-108. 20 Laiou, Angeliki E., Constantinople and the Latins; (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1972), 104.

39Galata and Constantinople

“... Byzantium would never be in a position to enforce its rule outside of Constantinople’s

walls...”

situation did not improve as the war went on. Genoa won the decisive naval battle of Curzola in 1298 and concluded a separate peace with the Venetians in 1299, leaving Byzantium at war with Venice by itself.22 The war finally ended in 1302 after Venice had conquered a few Byzantine Islands in the Aegean. The Byzantines paid 55,000 hyperpera in reparations and, of course, provided trade privileges.23

The Venetian-Genoese War emphasized and accelerated a shift in the balance of power between Genoa and Byzantium. Byzantium did not have the naval strength, even just outside the walls of Constantinople, to even be considered a major participant in the war. The most that Andronicus could do against the Venetians was confiscate Venetian property already inside Constantinople. Furthermore, Genoa considered Byzantium’s support of their war with Venice so minor that they did not bother including them in their peace treaty with Venice. Byzantium did retain an important grip on Galata, though only through Michael VIII’s foresight, as Michael VIII had destroyed Galata’s fortifications and not allowed them to be rebuilt. Galata, one of Genoa’s most valued and important trade colonies, was therefore highly dependent on Constantinople for protection. The Genoese realized this and took steps to remedy the situation.

In 1303 Andronicus provided the Genoese with a larger tract of land on which to rebuild Galata after it had been burned down

21 Ibid., 105. 22 Ibid., 108. 23 Ibid., 112.24 Ibid., 113, 149.

40 Rush

of their previous agreement. As a result, Emperor Andronicus imprisoned all Venetians who were currently in Constantinople. At this point a smaller fleet of 22 Genoese ships arrived and managed to distract the Venetians long enough for the citizens of Galata to take refuge in Constantinople. The Venetians,

having overcome the smaller Genoese fleet, proceeded to burn the unfortified city of Galata. Andronicus then declared war on the Venetians and confiscated all Venetian property inside of Constantinople as reparations for the burning of Galata.21

Despite the hostilities around Constantinople, entering the war proved to be a poor decision for Andronicus. Byzantium did not have the navy to actually assist the Genoese against the Venetians in battle. The Venetians had not brought any siege equipment, and so they were unable to launch an assault of any kind on Constantinople itself. Instead they sailed into the Black Sea and attacked Genoese colonies there. Imperial ships became the target of Venetian pirates as well. Byzantium’s

“The Genoese colonists were no longer dependent on the Byzantine Emperor...”

Galata brought to Genoa is also reflected in the wage of the podestá of Galata compared to the podestás of other Genoese colonies; the Galata podestá earned 400 lire annually in wages, while the podestás of Andora and Liguria only earned 50 lire annually.28

The source of Galata’s wealth was the funneling of almost all Black Sea and Byzantine trade through its port. The portion of Genoese trade to Byzantium was also enormous. From 1270 to 1313 Byzantium was the destination of between 18% and 25% of Genoese trade.29 In fact, Black Sea trade was so important to Genoa that it created a new bureau: “The Office of the Gazaria” (Crimea) to oversee, control, and protect trade in the region. When Genoese governance was not interrupted by civil war, the Office of the Crimea had jurisdiction over all Genoese trade east of Sicily.30 One of the most important commodities of the Black Sea trade was grain, on which Constantinople was dependent. Genoese trading posts in Caffa (in the Crimea), Chilia (on the Danube Delta), and Tana (at the mouth of the Don River) allowed Genoa to take advantage of the short distance trade within the Black Sea itself, but also allowed them to export commodities across the Mediterranean. Black Sea grain was transported all the way to Genoa.31 The Genoese monopoly on grain in the Black Sea was so complete that the Byzantine Emperor Cantacuzene recognized in the 1340s that Genoa would be able to starve Constantinople into submission simply by ceasing to sell grain

by the Venetians and in 1304 the Genoese began to fortify Galata by building a moat.24 However, a moat was not enough. In 1313, the Venetians attacked Galata again; this time the Genoese of Galata were forced to pay 8000 ducats to get the Venetians to leave.25 Two years later a fire broke out in Galata during the rebuilding efforts, further delaying the reconstruction. However, Galata along with new walls and fortifications were completed in 1315.26 The reconstruction of Galata’s defenses significantly changed the status quo of Galata’s relationship with Constantinople. The Genoese colonists were no longer dependent on the Byzantine Emperor for protection. This shift demonstrates the further waning of Byzantine influence and the continuing growth of Genoese power in the Aegean and Black Seas.

In addition to the extra land, the Genoese were also granted further trading concessions and privileges in 1303. These privileges essentially gave them a monopoly on trade in the Black Sea. The base of this Genoese monopoly in the Black Sea was Galata, and business boomed during the first half of the 14th century. Galata began to attract more revenue than Constantinople through the diversion of trade from the south side of the Golden Horn in Constantinople to the north side of the Golden Horn in Galata. By the 1340s it was estimated that the annual revenue of Galata was seven times that of Constantinople, 200,000 hyperpera compared to 30,000 hyperpera.27 The wealth that

25 Ibid., 269.26 Ibid., 261. 27 Nicol, The last centuries of Byzantium, 221 (footnote 23).28 Epstein, Steven A., Genoa and the Genoese; (Chapel Hill and London: University of North Carolina Press, 1996), 190.29 Ibid., 142.30 Ibid., 193-194. 31 Epstein, Steven A., Purity Lost; (Baltimore: John Hopkins University Press, 2006), 56.

41Galata and Constantinople

Emperor Canacuzene’s youngest son died of the plague, along with a sizable portion of the population. By the end of 1348 the plague had dispersed across the Mediterranean to Genoa, whose population was subsequently devastated by the Black Death.40

Just months before the Black Death was to arrive in Constantinople, the Byzantine Empire suffered a serious loss to the Genoese. In June of 1346 the Aegean island of Chios fell to the Genoese Admiral Vignoso.41 Michael VIII had awarded Chios to the Zaccarias, a Genoese family, as a fiefdom for serving in his navy.42 Yet, Byzantium was able to reestablish their control over Chios during the Genoese civil war between the Guelfs and Ghibelines in the 1320’s.43 Byzantium was not able to hold on to this island for very long though. Vignoso attacked Chios on his own initiative in June 1346. Despite strong resistance from the Greeks, the last Greek fortress fell to the Genoese on September 12, 1346.44

The new Genoese colony in Chios was treated in a very similar way to Galata by the government in Genoa. Both Genoese colonies were largely left to govern and defend themselves. However, limited oversight from Genoa ensured that they were not completely independent. This quasi-independence is demonstrated in the powers possessed by the podestá of Chios. The podestá was appointed by the Doge and his council through an elaborate process of elimination. The Doge of Genoa

32 Nicol, The last centuries of Byzantium, 220.33 Fleet, C. European and Islamic Trade in the Early Ottoman State; (Cambridge, 1999), 39.34 Ibid., 43. 35 Ibid., 37.36 Ibid., 74.37 Ibid., 100-101. 38 Epstein, Genoa and the Genoese, 212.39 Nicol, The last centuries of Byzantium, 217.

42 Rush

there.32 Another important export commodity of the Black Sea was slaves, many of whom in the 14th century were Greeks captured in battle by Turkish armies and raiders.33 However, slaves were not limited to a single ethnicity or religion. It is recorded that in Crete in 1301 there were Turkish, Greek, and Saracen slaves.34 As the bottleneck of Black Sea trade, Galata developed a slave market with the predominate purchaser of slaves being Mamluk Egypt.35 Grapes and wine were also important trade commodities moving through Galata. Wine was even used to purchase other commodities such as spices, silks, and gems from the Mongols.36 Galata also served as a point of trade of wool. Turkish wool was often imported to Galata and then resold to be processed in the West.37

Commodities were not the only things exported from the Black Sea. The Black Death was introduced to Europe through these same Genoese trade routes. According to Gabriele de Mussi, a writer from Piacenza, the plague was first introduced to Europeans in the Crimea. Genoese Caffa was under siege by the Tartars in 1346 when the plague hit the Tartar army. However, the Tartars turned the catastrophe to their advantage. They catapulted some of the dead bodies into Caffa, spreading the plague there.38 The extent of Genoese trade during this time can be seen in how far and how quickly the plague spread throughout the Mediterranean. By 1347, the plague had reached Trebizond, Constantinople, and Galata on the opposite side of the Black Sea.39 In Constantinople,

A second Aegean Island that lends itself to comparison with Galata and Chios is Lesbos, which was under Gattilusio rule from 1355 to 1462. Francesco Gattilusio was an ambitious Genoese nobleman who planned to capture land on the European side of the Dardanelles after an earthquake had destroyed Byzantine fortifications at Gallipoli in March 1354.48 However, he encountered John V Palaeologus on his way. At that time Constantinople was held by Emperor Cantacuzene and it was John V’s intention to usurp the throne and become Emperor of Byzantium. Doukas reports John V’s offer to Francesco Gattilusio: “If this is accomplished with God’s help and you are my ally in the resumption of my sovereign rule, I will make you my brother-in-law by giving you my sister Maria.”49 Francesco Gattilusio accepted John V’s offer and provided John V the use of his two galleys. Apparently God did help John V and Francesco, as they were successful in their venture. John V was true to his word:

To Francesco Gattilusio, his good and faithful friend, the emperor gave his sister in marriage and the island of Lesbos for a dowry. They celebrated the nuptials, and sailed thence to make their home in Mitylene [the capital of Lesbos]. Up to the present time members of their family, who succeed one another, continue to be lords of that island.50

The Gattilusio lordship of Lesbos was different from that of the Vignoso of Chios. Francesco Gattilusio assisted John V and was permitted to

would submit a list of 20 names to an electoral council in Chios, which would then choose four off of the list. The Doge and council would choose the podestá from one of the four people that were chosen from the original list.45 Once the podestá was elected he was required to take an oath to govern Chios according to the laws of Genoa and to the treaty that was signed between Vignoso and the native Greeks of the island. Just from the laws that the podestá was called to uphold, a balancing act can be seen as he was called to represent the Genoese government in Chios and a local treaty signed without direct Genoese intervention.

The colonial administration’s control over Chios implies almost complete independence from Genoa. The podestá had the authority to raise an army from the Greek population for the defense of the island and he could mint coins at his own discretion, so long as they pictured the Genoese Doge.46 The fact that the podestá had the authority to exercise these two powers demonstrates the extent to which Genoa permitted its colonies to act as they saw best. It is important to recall that the podestá of Galata differed from the podestá of Chios in that he was directly appointed by Genoa and that he was paid a salary.47 But though Genoa maintained tighter control over Galata than it did Chios, the podestá of Galata was still given enough freedom to determine his city’s own foreign policy. This can especially be seen when the Ottoman Turks began to directly threaten Galata itself in the 15th Century.

40 Epstein, Genoa and the Genoese, 212.41 Argenti, Philip P., The Occupation of Chios by the Genoese; (Great Britain, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1958), 94-95.42 Ibid., 28-29.43 Epstein, Genoa and the Genoese, 198.44 Argenti, The Occupation of Chios by the Genoese, 95. 45 Ibid., 371.46 Ibid., 375-376.

43Galata and Constantinople

independently of Constantinople. Chios was taken from Byzantium by force and retained its independence from Constantinople through military strength. Lesbos, on the other hand was acquired through a marriage alliance. However, they all had relatively little interference from Genoa. Additionally, Chios and Galata both controlled certain trade monopolies. Galata’s monopoly was on the flow of trade from the Black Sea, while Chios and the nearby city of Phocaea controlled the production and trade of alum in the Mediterranean. Yet, there was a limit to how freely Genoa permitted its colonies to determine their own foreign policy.

Galata discovered this limit when it declared war on Constantinople in an attempt to protect its monopoly on the lucrative Black Sea trade. Despite how far behind Byzantium was from Galata in both military and economic strength, the Byzantines, led by Emperor Cantacuzene, were determined to reestablish their influence. In an effort to rebuild Constantinople’s revenue base Cantacuzene lowered the kommerkion [import tax] from 10% to 2% in order to divert trade from Galata back into Constantinople.52 He additionally began to make plans to rebuild the Byzantine fleet.53 Realizing that their commercial monopoly was threatened, the Genoese of Galata attacked Constantinople. In 1348, while the Emperor was absent from the city campaigning in Thrace, they crossed the Golden Horn and torched the docks and ships of Constantinople. Byzantium’s response

47 Nicholas Oikonomides, Porphyrogenita, “The Byzantine Overlord of Genoese Possessions in Romania,” (Great Britian, Trowbridge, Wiltshire: Ashgate, 2003), 238. 48 C. Wright, The Gattilusio Lordships and the Aegean World, 1355-1462 (Leiden and Boston, 2014), 39.This earthquake provided the Ottoman Turks with the opportunity to cross the Dardanelles and establish their first foothold in Europe. 49 Doukas, Decline and Fall of Byzantium to the Ottoman Turks. trans. Harry J. Magoulias; (Detroit: Wayne State University Press, 1975), 77.50 Ibid., 81. 51 Wright, The Gattilusio Lordships and the Aegean World, 48-49.52 Angeliki Laiou, Economic History of Byzantium; (Washington D.C., Dumbarton Oaks, 2002), 1050.

44 Rush

marry into the Byzantine imperial family as a reward. This valuable connection allowed the Gattilusios to avoid even more interference from Genoa than did Galata and Chios. Genoa did not even appoint a podestá in Lesbos. Yet, as the Gattilusios were Genoese, they still maintained close relations with the other Genoese colonies in the Aegean Sea.

The relationship between Galata, Chios, and Lesbos between 1350 and 1450 was largely one of mutual understanding. While they all operated independently, had different ties to Byzantium, and were under varying degrees of oversight from Genoa, the common Genoese ancestry of the colonies usually held them together. This was especially true in times of war. In the face of growing Ottoman strength, Chios, Lesbos, Galata, the Knights Hospitaller of Rhodes, and the Kingdom of Cyprus signed a treaty of mutual defense in 1388.51

The fact that Galata, Chios, and Lesbos had to sign a defensive treaty with each other suggests that they were not treated as nor did they regard themselves as a single political entity. Rather, they were independent entities loosely connected by Genoese affiliations. Galata, as has been described, came under Genoese control very differently from both Lesbos and Chios. Galata was granted to Genoa through a treaty with Genoa itself, not through a connection with an individual family. Galata then had to gradually build its influence before it could erect its own walls and act

one of the largest Genoese ships, but that is where their success ended. After struggling to handle their ships in the currents of the Golden Horn the Byzantines became frightened and abandoned their ships to be captured by the Genoese. The next day the Genoese sailed unchallenged past the Emperor’s palace, dragging the imperial standards in the water behind them.57 Fortunately for Byzantium, representatives from Genoa arrived to settle the dispute. The government in Genoa did not approve of Galata’s actions, valuing peace more than war and probably recognizing that a protracted siege of Constantinople would cost more than it was worth, and the conflict was settled with very favorable terms for Byzantium given the circumstances. Galata was to give back the land that it captured, pay an indemnity of over 100,000 hyperpera, and swear not to attack Constantinople again.58

The war with Galata shows just how far power and influence had shifted over the century since Michael VIII had awarded the Genoese Galata. When Michael VIII had given the Genoese Galata he was able to seriously threaten their eviction for the murder of one man. By 1348 Galata was attacking and Constantinople was on the defensive. Michael VIII had been able to chase down and blind pirates who had failed to render him what he considered the proper respect due him. During the war with Galata the Byzantines could not even handle their ships within the Golden Horn, and then had to watch, powerless, as

was to go to war with the city just across the harbor. Byzantine troops set fire to the Genoese warehouses outside of the walls and constructed catapults to launch stones across the harbor at Galata itself and at the Genoese ships. The Genoese then decided to try an all-out assault on the walls of Constantinople and repurposed ships into floating platforms for catapults and siege towers. Despite a fierce battle however, they were unable to breech the walls of Constantinople.54

After Galata’s failed attack, Emperor Cantacuzene returned to the city and immediately began to raise funds for the construction of a new navy. Galata set about for preparations for a long war, building a new tower to add to its fortifications.55 Despite the recent setbacks of losing Chios and suffering through the Black Death, the residents of Constantinople eagerly prepared for the war:

At these words [Cantacuzene’s rebuke for not building a navy earlier] everyone with one voice denounced the Latins and condemned their own neglect and improvidence, all wanting to contribute their goods for the common cause; and great was the zeal for manufacturing ships and catapults large and small, as also for recruiting troops both for the infantry and for the navy.56

However, the new Byzantine navy of nine large warships and 100 smaller boats lacked something crucial that the Genoese had in abundance: experienced captains and sailors. The Byzantines were able to surprise and burn

53 Nicol, The last centuries of Byzantium, 221.54 Ibid., 222.55 The Galata Tower has survived to the present day and can still be seen towering above the other buildings in modern day Beyoğlu, a district of Istanbul.56 Ibid., 222-223. 57 Ibid., 225.58 Ibid.

45Galata and Constantinople

So long as the Emperor was friendly with the Genoese, he would continue to grant them trade privileges in his realm over their rivals in Italy, such as the Venetians.

Galata also developed a need for the Ottoman Turks as the Turks began to assert their presence in the Aegean. When Michael VIII granted the Genoese Galata, Byzantium controlled both sides of the Bosporus and the Dardanelles. The Genoese only needed to ingratiate themselves with a single ruler to establish their trading routes and colonies. However, the Ottoman Turks had established their control over the Asian side of the straits by the 1350s. During the Venetian-Genoese war from 1350 to 1355, Byzantium was allied with Venice against Genoa. In response Genoa allied themselves with the Turks who provided supplies and one thousand archers for the defense of Galata. This aid proved crucial to Galata in withstanding a joint Byzantine-Venetian siege in 1351 which further illustrates the fragmentation in and fluid nature of politics in the Aegean Sea during the 14th century. The relationship forged between Galata and the Ottoman Turks proved beneficial to both. Trade between the Ottoman-held city of Bursa and Galata expanded rapidly with silk being moved west and fine wools to the east. In return, the Turks gained an ally willing to transport them across the Bosporus, helping them establish a toehold in Europe.61 Galata’s willingness to work with the Ottoman Turks opened the door for them to develop amicable

59 Charles of Anjou was a French King of southern Italy and Sicily and he was threatening to cross the Adriatic and attack Byzantine possessions in the Balkans that had just been conquered by Michael VIII Palaeologus. In response Michael worked through his agents and large treasury to convince the people of Sicily to revolt from Charles of Anjou and Peter of Aragon to assume the Sicilian crown. (Steven Runciman, The Sicilian Vespers, Great Britain, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1958. 205-213)The conspiracy was successful and Charles of Anjou lost Sicily and his resources were diverted in a war against Aragon instead of in an invasion of Byzantine territory. 60 Epstein, Genoa and the Genoese, 206. 61 Halil Inalcik, “The Ottoman Turks and the Crusades, 1329-1451,” in A History of the Crusades, ed. K. Setton, vol. 6: The Impact of the Crusades on Europe, eds. N. Zacour and H. Hazard. (Madison, WI: University of Wisconsin Press, 1989). 222-275.,230-231.

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the Genoese disgraced the imperial standards in front of their Emperor. The rise of Galata’s power and the decline of Constantinople’s are mirrored in the larger Mediterranean system. Michael VIII’s influence reached as far as Aragon in the west when he was helping organize the Sicilian Vespers and the downfall of his rival, Charles of Anjou.59 Genoa, on the other hand, was simply looking to reposition itself in the Aegean and Black Sea trade networks after being excluded from them for 60 years. By 1348 Genoa had established a stranglehold on Black Sea trade and with it, Constantinople.

Despite the shifts that had occurred over that previous century, an important aspect of the relationship between Constantinople and Galata remained unchanged: they needed each other. Geographically, the two cities are much more defensible, if they can be persuaded to work together, especially since the fortifications of Galata had been rebuilt. On a more regional level, the Byzantines were still dependent on the Genoese navy, which thus had an incentive to patrol Byzantine waters so long as Genoa controlled the trade in the area. An example of this is when in 1340, just before Galata declared war on Constantinople, the Ottoman Turks had launched a small fleet into the Black Sea. In response the Genoese sent a fleet of their own to protect trade interests in Caffa and Trebizond.60 The Genoese also needed Constantinople for its markets and for the legitimacy that the Emperor provided.

At first Galata was instructed by Genoa to remain neutral in the conflict. The citizens of Galata, according to Doukas, realized the danger that their city would be in if Constantinople fell:

Emperor Constantine with all available forces took charge of the situation with the Genoese of Galata. The compelling thought that if the city fell their fortress would become desolate had also occurred to them. Consequently, they had previously dispatched letters to Genoa pleading for assistance. The reply came that a ship was already en route with five hundred armed troops to aid Galata.63

Here Doukas says that Genoa was assisting Galata specifically, not Constantinople. Troops sent to Galata would not necessarily be used to protect Constantinople, due to Galata’s refusal to commit wholeheartedly to a mutual defense agreement. Galata’s previous experience dealing with the Turks combined with the possibility of Constantinople falling caused Galata to tread very lightly and do their best not to anger Mehmed II.

The Byzantines, though, were determined to resist Turks despite the overwhelming odds against them. Emperor Constantine XI had a chain placed across the Golden Horn, stretching from the sea walls of Constantinople to the walls of Galata. Galata’s lukewarm attitude towards Constantinople and their goal of at least not earning the ire of Mehmed II is illustrated through their

relations with a rising power in the region. The Genoese hoped that in the future this friendly relationship would allow them to acquire trade privileges and colonies just as they had from the Byzantine Empire.

Despite the differing goals of Constantinople and Galata and their different stances toward the Ottomans, their geographic proximity forced them to work together once again in response to expanding Ottoman power. The Ottoman Turks first established themselves in Europe in 1354 at Gallipoli, taking advantage of the situation that Francesco Gattilusio had turned down to assist John V Palaeologus. Over the next century the Ottomans had established themselves as the predominate power in Anatolia and in the Balkans. By 1453 the Ottoman Turks were ready to deal the death blow to Byzantium. By this time Galata had been carrying out its own foreign policy measures in relation to the Ottoman Turks for over 100 years, having allied themselves with the Turks in 1350 and having joined Tamerlane in an alliance against the Turks in 1402.62 In 1453 though, with the Ottoman Sultan Mehmed II marching on Constantinople, the residents of Galata had to decide whether to support Constantinople and help resist the Turks or ingratiate themselves with the Turks so that they would be able to keep their city and trading privileges in the area. Ultimately the residents of Galata tried to do both, much to their chagrin after the fall of Constantinople.

62 Epstein, Genoa and the Genoese, 258. 63 Doukas, Decline and Fall of Byzantium to the Ottoman Turks, 211.

47Galata and Constantinople

else the Turks wanted. They would return furtively to the Romans during the night and fight at their side all day long.65

Doukas’ incredible statement sheds light on Galata’s motivation for their particular stance toward Constantinople. Galata simply wanted to be ingratiated with whichever empire might surround their city. They sold supplies to the Turks, yet played a non-trivial role in the defense of Constantinople. In fact the defense of Constantinople was left to Giovanni Giustiniani, an accomplished soldier and expert in siege warfare.66 Despite the fact that Galata had become just as powerful as Constantinople in many ways, the Genoese in Galata had always remained an enclave inside of a larger empire and had learned to make alliances with both the Byzantines and the Ottomans. Furthermore, their fortifications helped isolate and protect themselves and their wares from whose ever territory they might be situated. The reason for Galata being able to pursue a different relationship with the Turks than Constantinople was that they only aimed to remain a privileged economic center without any desire to create a territorial empire.

Galata’s plan of trying to become friendlier with the Turks, while assisting the Byzantines, did not go as anticipated. On May 29, 1453, Constantinople fell to the Ottoman Turks. Mehmed II then turned his attention to Galata and demanded their capitulation. The podestá and those who remained in Galata

64 Ibid., 218.65 Ibid., 217.66 Nicol, The Last Centuries of Byzantium, 379.

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treatment of the Turkish navy. For the Turks to take full advantage of their superiority in numbers, they needed to get inside the Golden Horn, so that they could attack Constantinople from land and sea simultaneously. However, they were unable to get past the chain blocking the harbor. It is worth noting that the residents of Galata did not offer their assistance to the Turks in removing the chain. This behavior would not be expected if they were hoping to be rewarded by the Turks if Constantinople fell, thus emphasizing the ambiguity of Galata’s position during the siege. In order to take control of the Golden Horn Mehmed II had a road constructed around Galata and used rollers to transport his ships overland to the harbor. A plan was then devised by the Byzantines to burn the Turkish ships by sneaking up on them in a trireme. However, when the Galatinians found out about this plan and informed the Turks. The Turks then stood ready the night of the attack and were able to sink the Byzantine ship with a single cannon shot.64

The nature of Galata’s attitude toward the siege of Constantinople is further emphasized by their commercial attitude toward the Turkish army encamped outside their walls. The Ottoman forces, according to Doukas, were even assisted by forces from Galata:

[The Galatinians] circulated fearlessly in the Turkish camp, providing the tyrant abundantly with whatever supplies he requested—oil for the cannon and whatever

trying to rebuild the Roman Empire of days gone by. This is what drove Michael VIII as he crossed the Bosporus from Asia to Europe to conquer Constantinople. Genoa’s goal was to build a loose trading empire through commercial concessions from regional powers and colonies scattered across the Eastern Mediterranean and Black Sea. Genoa did not seem to mind how its colonies were established and was content to largely let them govern themselves, so long as they did not interrupt the trade flowing to Genoa and adopted policies that did not jeopardize their hard-won trade positions. Galata and Constantinople provide a single case of political fragmentation that was facilitated by each city pursuing separate goals in addition to a plethora of other differences including religion, degrees of sovereignty, and even language. These differences were not limited to the Bosporus, but were to be found across the Aegean and Eastern Mediterranean world, particularly where the paths of Latin Europeans, Greek Europeans, and Asians intersected. However, the fall of Constantinople to the Ottoman Turks signaled a new era. One not rent apart by many independent entities vying for power and influence, but united under a single Ottoman Empire.

turned over the keys of their fortress to the Turks. However, all who could escape on a ship did so.67 A few days later Mehmed II visited Galata and ordered that the walls be destroyed, and they were.68 One of the primary assets that had finally allowed Galata to break its reliance on Constantinople for defense, outpace Constantinople in economic activity, and even wage war on its neighbor, was gone. Galata was as exposed and vulnerable as it had been in 1267. This time it was not able to regain its previous prestige.

Genoa did retain some trading rights and their possessions in Galata, but most of the Genoese population was leaving. Genoa lost control of Caffa in 1475 and what was left of their Black Sea trade that had been the source of so much of the wealth in Galata collapsed.69 Furthermore, the navy that had been Genoa’s primary asset and the original reason for acquiring Galata in the first place was no longer in control of the Bosporus, and thus the Black Sea. Within 20 years Genoa had lost control of Galata and all of its colonies further east.70

Galata’s growth in influence under Constantinople’s shadow is a story of intrigue, alliances, trade, and a struggle for power in the Aegean and Black Seas. The deciding difference between Galata and Constantinople in how they responded to threats and opportunities was in their primary goal. The Byzantine Emperors in Constantinople were constantly

67 Ibid., 230.68 Ibid., 240.69 Epstein, Genoa and the Genoese, 285.70 Nicol, The last centuries of Byzantium, 394.

49Galata and Constantinople

An Interview withHeidi Tworek

Lecturer and Assistant Director of Undergraduate Studies,Harvard History Department

with Sama Mammadova and Nancy O’Neil

4

I had chosen completely the wrong angle for a paper that I wrote at the start of my graduate career – a good lesson in learning from one’s own mistaken assumptions! In that paper, I wanted to know how the Austrians and Prussians reported on the Austro-Prussian War of 1866. As I delved into the topic, I discovered that the two opposing sides were actually receiving news about each other from the same news agency located in France. Two warring sides were reading news from an identical source! It made me think that the most exciting part about my paper was not the printed stories that I analyzed in depth, but the chain of reporting behind the newspapers. In other words, the networks behind the newspapers had made the news.

Since then, my work has investigated why certain events were reported as news and others were not. Above all, I find it tremendously rewarding to study the history of a phenomenon

You’re a pioneer in the study of the history of news. What brought about your interest in the history of news and what do you find most worthwhile about your study of this subject?

That’s a very generous description! I’ve long held an interest in news and the production of news. As an undergraduate, I was the chief sub-editor on the Cambridge University student newspaper, TCS. The chief sub-editor is basically the chief copy editor, but the chief sub-editor also helps to write headlines, arrange photographs, and lay out pages. I also interned several times at Google and loved gaining insights into the advertising process.

I started my graduate career with other academic interests, but I soon found myself drawn back to news. In fact, my current work on news agencies began with a realization that

Doctor Heidi Tworek, a friend of Tempus, specializes in the international history of news, as well as media, international organizations, intellectual property, and higher education. In October 2012, she launched the UN History Project website, which offers a wide range of resources for researching and teaching the history of international organizations. At Harvard, Dr. Tworek has taught a number of history courses including “The History of International Organizations” and “Breaking Headlines: The History of News.” Moreover, she has been the Assistant Director of Undergraduate Studies at Harvard’s History Department since June 2012. In Fall 2015, Dr. Tworek will begin her a new phase of her career at the University of British Columbia.

51An Interview with Heidi Tworek

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the very near past. They might turn to oral history or they might apply historical techniques to published and widely available documents. That too can turn up surprising conclusions.

In 2013, the British National Archives moved to a twenty-year rule rather than a thirty-year rule. It will be fascinating to see the effects on British history. Plus the change throws up a lot of opportunities for senior theses on Britain!

You’re also interested in the history of international organizations. What aspect of the history of international organizations do you find most relevant to the way these organizations operate today?

We are currently commemorating the seventieth anniversary of the foundation of the United Nations. So I’ll pick the foundational period of the 1940s as the most relevant, and often misunderstood, aspect of the history of international organizations. We often think of the San Francisco conference in 1945 as the high point of international organizations. And we often focus on the Big Five: the US, UK, Soviet Union, France, and China. But we forget that UN agencies continued to be founded for several years after 1945 and that many drew their inspiration from members beyond those countries.

Let’s take the example of the World Health Organization. The US and UK had concurred prior to San Francisco that they would not discuss health at the conference. But the delegates from China, Norway, and Brazil – Dr. Szeming Sze, Dr. Karl Evang, and Dr. Geraldo de Paula Souza – became friendly during the conference. At a lunch one day, the three drafted a resolution to establish a

that so many people believe does not have a history. We often forget, for example, that news existed long before journalists and newspapers. Or we think that the Internet is the first time that a technology has radically changed communications and news. As a historian, I can show how past technologies laid the groundwork for developments today and how we often see very similar patterns from the past with the emergence of telegraphy or radio, for example. Finally, learning about the history of news can help us to read the news today, whether it’s thinking about the placement of articles, their sources, or their biases. Journalists and news outlets (understandably!) seek to report on the present and speculate about the future more than they worry about the past. But we can understand why they write and operate as they do from examining the history of news just as much as its present.

A question of interest to all historians: when does news become history? In broader terms, when is a topic too modern to be considered history?

Yesterday is history! In all seriousness, a student of mine in fall 2013 produced a fascinating investigation of the media coverage of the government shutdown that semester. She compared that with media coverage of government shutdowns in the 1970s using digital techniques such as word frequency analysis or sentiment analysis.

Still, historians don’t usually investigate such recent events. We often tend to be constricted by archival guidelines. Generally, archives have a thirty-year rule, meaning that they release documents after thirty years.

Even then, many historians write about

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trends in the study of history. First, many scholars have turned to global history. At Harvard, for instance, Professors Sven Beckert and Charles Maier organized the Weatherhead Initiative on Global and International History (WIGH). Professor Beckert’s book, Empire of Cotton: A Global History, just received the 2015 Bancroft Prize in History. More generally, historians are looking to understand the history of the interactions around the world that we commonly call globalization. That doesn’t just mean celebrating progress, but uncovering how these encounters created inequalities between people and environments.

Second, historians have become increasingly interested in harnessing the power of digital techniques. We are still in the early stages of thinking about how these tools can change our research and our teaching. To take another example at Harvard, the History Department received a grant from the Harvard Initiative for Learning and Teaching (HILT) to implement a digital teaching fellow program. Together with my digital teaching fellow in spring 2014, I designed my lecture course on the history of news around weekly digital assignments. One week, we mapped how the telegraph changed the spread of international news. Another week, we collaboratively annotated a tricky text about public opinion by Walter Lippmann from the 1920s. In the Department, we’ve also created a new genre of course – the 92r History Lab - to experiment with digital techniques. In 92rs, students work with a faculty member on a faculty member’s digital history project. I’d highly encourage all undergraduates to consider giving this course a try if they are interested in collaborating with faculty and gaining digital literacy.

As a historian of news, I see great promise

global health body. After some maneuvering, this resulted in the establishment of the WHO in 1948. Along with major contributions from the US and Soviet Union, the WHO would be a critical facilitator of the eradication of smallpox by 1980.

That example has a lot to teach us for the present. First, it shows the importance of lunch! Second, and more seriously, we can learn how conferences promote cooperation and are a critical place to establish dialogue. The UN’s meetings often seem less effective than some might like, but they are actually surprisingly good at creating a common language amongst nation-states on controversial issues. Third, even when the major powers seemed most powerful, other delegates significantly affected the coordination and allocation of global resources. Finally, the 1940s created or reconfigured most of the UN’s agencies as we know them today, with the important exceptions of the UN Environment Programme (UNEP) and UN Women. If we want to understand why the Security Council has five permanent members or the International Telecommunications Union is still headquartered in Switzerland, we’d find the answers in the 1940s.

If you’re interested in learning more about how the San Francisco Conference and other foundational UN events unfolded, check out the Twitter account of the UN History Project, @UN_History. We’ll be tweeting the events in real time, seventy years after they happened, over the next few years.

What are some trends you’ve observed in the study of history? Are any methods or periods becoming more popular?

The past few years have seen two main

An Interview with Heidi Tworek

and put yourself into the shoes of a person (or animal or object) in the past. People in the past often saw the world in very different ways. They laughed at different jokes. They ate different foods. As historians, we seek to understand why people thought or acted in the ways they did. We put people of the past into their context to comprehend their actions. We might not like their choices; we might even despise them. But if we can understand them, we have made huge strides.

The skill of empathy can help us with more than just history. Today, we constantly encounter others with different cultural backgrounds and assumptions. Using our historical skills can promote cooperation and connections today. Finally, as historians, our one certain prediction about the future is that it will be different from the present. We can use our skill of empathy to understand the changes that will face us. History is everything. And historians are empathetic to everything.

The Tempus staff would like to wholeheartedly thank Dr. Tworek for all that she’s done for the magazine over the years. We sincerely appreciate her efforts to make Tempus an accessible, informative, and thought-provoking publication. We wish Dr. Tworek good fortune and good health as she moves on to the University of British Columbia. We couldn’t have done it without you!

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in digital methods. Digitization has brought access to thousands more newspapers. Digital techniques give us unparalleled opportunities to analyze much more text than we could ever read in a lifetime. For example, the students in my History Lab are analyzing over 10,000 newspaper articles sent from Germany to the United States from 1915 to April 1917 when the US entered the war. There are great opportunities for new discoveries with these troves of materials and the novel techniques now available.

Throughout your time at Harvard, you have worked with many history concentrators. What is the most important piece of advice you have given them?

This might sound obvious, but it is incredibly important. Remember that your history concentration prepares you for the rest of your personal and professional life. Your life after college will probably take lots of unexpected twists and turns. That means that you should use your time in the History Department to gain skills and knowledge that will last beyond your four years at Harvard and your first job. The History Department can teach you outstanding writing, research, and presentation skills if you invest the time.

We can also teach you more intangible and unique qualities. In particular, historians are experts in empathy. Learning to become a historian means learning to travel back in time