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A literary self-portrait of Nikolaos Mesarites*

Published online by Cambridge University Press:  04 April 2016

Beatrice Daskas
Beatrice Daskas*
Affiliation:
Ludwig-Maximilians-Universität, Munichb.daskas@gmail.com
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Extract

This contribution is based on a new interpretation of the well-known passage found in the Description of the church of the Holy Apostles at Constantinople by Nikolaos Mesarites (XXVIII, 63.18–64.3 Heisenberg = 910b.[23] Downey), normally dated to the late twelfth century. It provides a reappraisal of the question regarding the Byzantine painter Eulalios and his alleged self-portrait in one of the scenes of the monument's decorative cycle.

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Byzantine and Modern Greek Studies , Volume 40 , Issue 1 , April 2016, pp. 151 - 169
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Copyright © Centre for Byzantine, Ottoman and Modern Greek Studies, University of Birmingham, 2016 

This contribution is based on a new interpretation of the well-known passage found in the Description of the church of the Holy Apostles at Constantinople by Nikolaos Mesarites (XXVIII, 63.18–64.3 Heisenberg = 910b.[23] Downey), normally dated to the late twelfth century. It provides a reappraisal of the question regarding the Byzantine painter Eulalios and his alleged self-portrait in one of the scenes of the monument's decorative cycle.

A controversial annotation on the subject of the Byzantine painter Eulalios is associated with the name of Nikolaos Mesarites (ca.1160 – post 1216) and with his discourse celebrating the now lost church of the Holy Apostles at ConstantinopleFootnote 1 which is normally dated to the late twelfth century. This work is among the most significant examples of Comnenian ekphrasis, handed down to us in a single copy kept at the Biblioteca Ambrosiana in Milan.Footnote 2 The text is well known in the scholarship of Byzantine art: since its earliest publication by August Heisenberg in the early twentieth century, it has become one of the major sources for speculation concerning the architectural and decorative history of the lost Constantinopolitan monument.Footnote 3 Although initially Mesarites’ Description was translated into concrete structural and iconographic terms in a one-way word-to-image transfer, the riches of his prose have subsequently been reassessed through the lens of ekphrasis, leading to an understanding of the rhetorical technique beneath the description of the work of art.Footnote 4

The annotation under discussion is found in a section of the discourse where the author, with the aim of illustrating the magnificent iconographic treasures of the temple dedicated to the Apostles, undertakes a journey into sacred history. The passage concerned refers to the episode of the Holy Women at the Sepulchre. The women, stationed at the tomb of the Lord, are looking for his corpse. All of a sudden, they see an angel in clear sight, sitting on the sepulchre's stone which has just been rolled away. At the frightening sight of the empty recess, the myrrhbearers appear ‘like wood and stone statues’ (ὡς ἀνδριάντες γὰρ αἱ μυροφόροι ξύλινοί τε καὶ λίθινοι),Footnote 5 and they fall into despair. After the women have been urged to regain their composure and to salute the miracle of Christ's resurrection, the narrator intervenes in the discourse, and summons the audience's attention, once again, to the sepulchre:Footnote 6

ὁ δ’ ἡμέτερος λόγος περιεργότερον ὧδε κἀκεῖσε περισκοπῶν καὶ περιβλεπόμενος καὶ αὐτὸν ὡς ἔστιν ἰδεῖν τὸν ταῦτα χειρὶ τῇ ἑαυτοῦ ζωγραφήσαντα, περὶ τὸν δεσποτικὸν ὄρθιον παριστάμενον τάφον ὡς ἄγρυπνόν τινα φύλακα κατενόησε, στολὴν ἐκείνην καὶ τὴν πᾶσαν ἄλλην ἠμφιεσμένον ἀναβολήν, ἣν καὶ ζῶν καὶ ταῦτα γράφων καὶ μετὰ πάντων καὶ ἑαυτοῦ καταστοχαζόμενος ἄριστα περιέκειτό τε καὶ τὸν ἐκτὸς κατεσεμνύνετο ἄνθρωπον.

So our thought, by looking hither and thither and gazing around more curiously, also noticed the one, as can be seen, who painted these things by his hand: he was standing upright at the Tomb of the Lord as a sleepless keeper, wrapped in the garb and all other attire he most fittingly wore while alive and describing these things, and he donned them, according to him and to everyone else, outstandingly, as a cloak of majesty around the outer man.

The audience's gaze is directed towards an unexpected figure, τὸν ταῦτα χειρὶ τῇ ἑαυτοῦ ζωγραφήσαντα, ‘the one who painted these things by his hand’, portrayed like a keeper (φύλαξ) of the burial place of the Lord. The interpretation traditionally adopted identifies the latter figure with the artist who carried out the decoration of the church. A marginal note appended to the passage, written by the same tachygraphic hand which drafted the main text [figure 1]Footnote 7 – i.e. Mesarites, if we accept the autography of the manuscriptFootnote 8 – would prove that the figure hinted at is Eulalios, one of the most elusive and yet celebrated artists of the Byzantine epoch, who had been elevated, by the fourteenth century, to the Olympus of the great classical masters along with Pheidias, Polygnotos, Zeuxis and Lysippos.Footnote 9 Τhe note, deciphered by Heisenberg as τὸν Εὐλάλιόν φησι, ‘Eulalios, they say’, was nothing more than a conjecture (albeit plausible, if not probable) over a much faded ligature, as the editor himself stated:Footnote 10

Fig. 1.

Marginal note Ambros. Gr. F 96 sup., f. 4 r (photograph: Veneranda Biblioteca Ambrosiana).

So [sc. τὸν Εὐλάλιόν φησι] glaube ich wenigstens die stark verblaßte Ligatur richtig zu entziffern, aber ich bemerke, daß weder ich selbst noch Herr Prefetto P. Ratti zu absoluter Sicherheit kamen, obwohl wir wochenlang immer wieder bei jeder Beleuchtung das Original prüften.

Most likely, the German scholar made such a conjecture under the influence of another source published more or less at the same time, namely an encomiastic epigram of the early Palaiologan period, composed by the scholar and church historian Nikephoros ‘Kallistos’ Xanthopoulos.Footnote 11 Indeed, in the title of the poem, Eulalios, the painter τὰς χεῖρας ἔχοντι μᾶλλον εὐλάλους, ‘endowed with very eloquent hands’,Footnote 12 is deemed responsible for the decoration of the central dome of the church of the Holy Apostles:Footnote 13

Ἢ Χριστὸς αὐτὸς καταβὰς οὐρανόθεν
μορφῆς τύπον ἔδειξεν ἠκριβωμένον
τῷ τὰς χεῖρας ἔχοντι μᾶλλον εὐλάλους,
ἢ γοῦν πρὸς αὐτὸν ἀνιὼν τὸν αἰθέρα
ὁ κλεινὸς Εὐλάλιος χειρὶ πανσόφῳ
Χριστοῦ θέαν ἔγραψεν ἠκριβωμένως.
Either Christ Himself descending from heaven
showed the exact form of his likeness
to the one endowed with very eloquent hands
or else the famed Eulalios ascended
to the very skies, and with his all-masterly hand
painted with exactitude the appearance of Christ.

Expressing a topos commonly ascribed to painters, the poet praises Eulalios’ ability to imitate the exact resemblance of the prototype, emphasizing at the same time the consonance between the painter and the Divine in the creative process. A few centuries earlier, the patriarch Photios used similar words to celebrate the skilfulness of the anonymous artist who decorated the apse of the Constantinopolitan church of Hagia Sophia with the figure of the Theotokos: [ὑ]πόκρισις ἄρα τῆς ἄνωθεν ἐπιπνοίας ἡ ζωγράφος τέχνη οὕτως ἀκριβῶς εἰς φύσιν τῆν μίμησιν ἔστησε, ‘Just as a reflection of inspiration from above, (it is) with such exactitude (that) the painter's art has set up the imitation close to nature’.Footnote 14 But Xanthopoulos goes even further, by describing not just a painter infused with divine inspiration, in accordance with Byzantine traditional laudatory practices,Footnote 15 but also, and more significantly, someone marvellously endowed with such skilfulness, able to carry out works superior to the natural human capacity for imitation. The classical sculptor Pheidias had already been commended in a similar way, for his chryselephantine statue of Zeus at Olympia.Footnote 16 By recognizing the substantial contribution of the painter's τέχνη in the creation of the icon, the poet admits that the work of art is inseparable from its actual maker. Eulalios is therefore not merely an interpreter of God's will, but the talented artifex of his own work.

In the course of the Palaiologan period, exceptions to the rule of anonymity, which dominated the development of Byzantine art over the centuries, start to be significant.Footnote 17 Both literary and artistic trends reflect the developments of a time of cultural renewal or ‘renaissance’ – as scholarship has been wont to refer to it.Footnote 18 In the minds of Palaiologan intellectuals, like Xanthopoulos or his contemporary and friend Theodore Metochites,Footnote 19 Eulalios, the ‘eloquent’ painter, rises to the highest literary honours as the personification of his art, ‘Painting’ — an art which bears an elective affinity with rhetoric, a concept explored in theoretical speculation since the dawn of the classical age.Footnote 20 In this context, the comparison of painter to orator is not meant to uphold the supremacy of the art of language over pictorial representation; on the contrary, given the extraordinary prestige enjoyed by rhetoric in late Byzantine culture, the painter gains an unquestionable advantage by being associated with someone whose task is the deployment of his art for the sake of ‘the euphony of felicitous expression’. Footnote 21

We see the same comparison in an earlier epigram on an image of the Annunciation found in the church of a certain protosebastos, son of a sebastokrator named Isaac, and composed by a poet active under Manuel I Komnenos (1143–1180) conventionally referred to as ‘Manganeios’ Prodromos.Footnote 22 Again, the image is associated with the name of Eulalios, the artist who paints images ‘worthy of his name’, with his ‘sweetly-speaking brush’:Footnote 23

Σάρκινος ὁ χροῦς ἀλλὰ καὶ ζώσης κόρης,
ἥ που τοσοῦτος Εὐλάλιος τὴν τέχνην,
ὡς ἱστορεῖν πως τὰς γραφὰς φερωνύμως,
λαλοῦντά τε χρώματα συγκεραννύειν.
Οὐ τῆς γραφικῆς ἐστὶ τὸ χρῆμα, ξένε,
ἀλλ’ ἡ περιλάλητος ἀνθρώποις κόρη
τὴν Εὐλαλικὴν ἰθύνασα γραφίδα,
εὔλαλον οὔτω καὶ τὸ χρῶμα δεικνύει.
The hue is that of flesh, and yet of a live maiden
To such great heights goes Eulalios with his art
As to paint images in some way worthy of his name
And to blend colours endowed with eloquence.
This is not a matter of painting, oh stranger,
But the much-talked-of maiden among men
Has steered straight the ‘Eulalian’ (i.e. sweetly-speaking) brush
In such a way that the colour too appears eloquent.

In light of the above, ‘Eulalios’Footnote 24 metaphorically participates in the rebirth of painting through its ‘sister art’ – rhetoric – and thanks to his eminent status, he reaffirms the intellectual dignity of his τέχνη, as a means of attaining glory and immortality.Footnote 25

That Eulalios might not be an actual painter, but rather a metaphorical figure evoked to endorse literary themes and motives, is further illustrated by his mention in a Greek vernacular poem attributed to Theodore Prodromos, a very prolific and versatile author of the twelfth century,Footnote 26 better known for his ‘petition verses’ addressing requests and complaints to high dignitaries, aristocrats and members of the Comnenian imperial family:Footnote 27

ἂν ποθάνῃ ὁ Πρόδρομος ἀπὸ στενοχωρίας,
καὶ τότε ἐπὶ τοῦ κράτους σου καὶ ἐπὶ τῶν ἡμερῶν σου,
ποῦ νὰ εὕρῃς ἄλλον Πρόδρομον τοιοῦτον, τὴν κεφαλήν σου;
ἂν τύχῃ ἂν εἴπῃς τὸν ζουγλὸν νὰ ποίσῃ ντίσηκόν μου,
νὰ ποίσῃ καὶ ἑταῖριν μου καὶ αὐτόχρημα ὡς ἐμένα,
οὐκ ἐγνωρίζεις, δέσποτα, τὸν Πρόδρομον τὸν ἔχεις·
αὐτὸς ὁ Εὐλάλιος καὶ ἂν ἔλθῃ καὶ ὁ Χήναρος ἐκεῖνος
καὶ ὁ Χαρτουλάρις ὁ ἀκουστός, οἱ πρῶτοι τῶν ζωγράφων,
τοιοῦτον οὐκ ἐξορθώνουσι, κανεὶς μὴ σὲ κομπώνῃ,
λογιούτζικον, σοφούτζικον ἐκ τοὺς ἐπιλεγμένους,
πατέρα τῶν γραμματικῶν, πατέρα τῶν ῥητόρων,
πατέρα τῆς στιχουργικῆς καὶ τῆς λογογραφίας·
If Prodromos were to die in straits,
And that, during Your reign and days,
where would you find, Yourself, another Prodromos like me?
If perchance You told the buffoon to put on my vestments,
to play myself out and indeed be me,
You wouldn't recognize, My Lord, the crown jewel you have in me.
Should Goodblarney in person come and the famous Quacker too
as well as the much-heard-of Man-in-White-Paper – the cream among the painters,
they would not stand up to me – let no one gush over you! –
a man like me, a man of learning, of wisdom, from among the chosen
the master of the literati, the master of the rhetors,
the master of the art of verse making and prose.

This excerpt displays a moment of self-congratulation familiar to us from other works of the poet, who is often borne away by a narcissistic delight in his own art. Similarly, in one of the dedicatory epigrams prefacing his novel Rodanthe and Dosikles,Footnote 28 Prodromos lingers upon a widespread topos of the ekphrastic repertoire – to which we shall return in due course – by drawing a comparison between his own and the art of ‘the cream among the painters’. Their names are cleverly devised in such a manner as to perpetuate the metaphor ‘painter/writer’ and to arouse in the audience specific feelings or thoughts as to their capacity and talents: Χήναρος, ‘Chenaros’, a variation upon ‘χήν’ – a kind of wild goose – to translate which we opted for the English ‘iconic’ equivalent ‘Quacker’, in order to keep, as in the original Greek, the etymological-semantic reference to the animal;Footnote 29 Χαρτουλάρις, ‘Chartoularis’, which we rendered as ‘Man-in-White-Paper’, so as to maintain an allusion to the piles of documents surrounding the officials of the Byzantine bureaucracy – the ‘χαρτουλάριοι’ – evoked by the archetype;Footnote 30 and last, but not least, Εὐλάλιος, ‘Eulalios’, the metaphorical associations of which we already elucidated, transposed herein into ‘Goodblarney’, for the sake of maintaining the name fully in tune with the overall tone of the poem.Footnote 31 To further enhance the ludic spirit of the composition the poet elaborates a subtle pun on his name too: if he were to be replaced by a buffoon – he says – the emperor would not be able to recognize his ‘Πρόδρομος’, that is to say the one who ‘runs ahead of’ any other poet or man of letters, the ‘vanguard’, or in a more figurative way, the ‘crown jewel’ he is.Footnote 32 In this specific context, rather than being actual painters, Chenaros, Chartoularis, Eulalios, are caricatured types of Byzantine literati. Despite the clearly playful register of the passage and the meaning that emerges from a closer inspection of its language, this kind of vernacular cryptography applied to personal names has not been observed by modern scholars, who have persevered in adopting a literal reading of the poem.Footnote 33 The excerpt has been deemed significant either for placing Eulalios in the twelfth century,Footnote 34 or to confirm his celebrity during centuries following his flourishing.Footnote 35 And yet, Prodromos’ poem gives further evidence for the existence of a metaphorical figure called ‘Eulalios’, evoked here and there to endorse specific literary themes and motives.

To come back to our starting point. One is tempted to think of the marginal note appended to Mesarites’ passage in a similar way, as an addition that evokes, through the painter's name, the eloquence of expression which may well be applied either to the artist who carried out the decoration of the church or to the author who composed its verbal description. In any case, the nature and meaning of this addition will become clearer through the interpretation of the text and its authorial context.

I

The source material we have just examined has been used to support the actual existence of an artist named Eulalios, and his prestige endorsed to justify the literal interpretation of the annotation found in Mesarites’ discourse.Footnote 36 From this perspective, according to some recent scholarship, the self-portrait of Eulalios, inserted into a Biblical scene, as the Comnenian author allegedly describes it, would be one of the earliest episodes of a Byzantine painter to emerge from a more usual, albeit not absolute, anonymity.Footnote 37 However, there is no parallel iconography in Byzantine art to support the argument. Few instances of painters’ portraits are handed down to us from mediaeval Byzantium, and none of them is found in monumental art but only in manuscript illumination.Footnote 38 Such representations do not serve the purpose of preserving the physical traits of the artist portrayed, but rather, by recalling the distinctive sphere of activity of the figure, they fix a type. The rare extant effigies of painters capture them intent on their work or in the typical attitude of donors, offering the product of their effort to a holy figure.Footnote 39 The traditional reading of Mesarites’ passage would therefore establish an ἅπαξ εἰρημένον, in apparent contradiction with Byzantine iconographic practices.Footnote 40 In this respect, it is worth recalling that with the end of the iconoclastic struggle, the appropriateness of the repertoire becomes a major concern within the framework of religious icon making.Footnote 41 Nonetheless, as Byzantine artistic practice is not as monolithic as theoretical prescriptions would like it to be, deviations from the canon cannot a priori be excluded, insofar as they remain plausible with respect to the context in which they occur. Variations of the iconographic norm have been posited for the scene of the Anastasis at Nea Moni on Chios, due to the imperial patronage of Constantine IX Monomachos (1042–1055). It would stand as an example of an illustrious donor taking part in the sacred event depicted.Footnote 42 Even so, I am not inclined to believe that examples of this kind are sufficient argument to presume the existence of similar iconography applied to a painter in a monumental context like the Constantinopolitan church of the Holy Apostles. A more convincing solution for the controversial figure standing at the tomb of the Lord may be found within the text itself, and within the tradition of the genre to which it pertains.

Descriptions of artists’ self-portraits are preserved to us from Antiquity: a number of sources relate that on the shield of his Athena Parthenos, Pheidias portrayed ‘a figure that suggested himself as a bald old man lifting on high a stone with both hands’.Footnote 43 The episode — apocryphal from an art historical point of view — was received into various literary contexts, to suit the purpose of specific textual circumstances. Taken mainly as an example of hybris towards the gods, it had also been called upon to illustrate the structural ties that bind the Creator to the cosmos:Footnote 44

Φασὶ δὲ καὶ τὸν ἀγαλματοποιὸν Φειδίαν κατασκευάζοντα τὴν ἐν ἀκροπόλει Ἀθηνᾶν ἐν μέσῃ τῇ ταύτης ἀσπίδι τὸ ἑαυτοῦ πρόσωπον ἐντυπώσασθαι, καὶ συνδῆσαι τῷ ἀγάλματι διά τινος ἀφανοῦς δημιουργίας, ὥστε ἐξ ἀνάγκης, ϵἴ τις βούλοιτο αὐτὸ περιαιρεῖν, τὸ σύμπαν ἄγαλμα λύειν τε καὶ συγχεῖν. Τοῦτον οὖν ἔχει τὸν λόγον ὁ θεὸς ἐν κόσμῳ, συνέχων τὴν τῶν ὅλων ἁρμονίαν τε καὶ σωτηρίαν (. . .).

They say also that Pheidias, the sculptor, when he crafted the statue of Athena on the Acropolis, imprinted his face in the middle of her shield, and connected it to the statue through a hidden mechanism, in such a way that if somebody should wish to strip it away he would tear down the whole statue and dismantle it. So, God has the same function in the universe, as he maintains the harmony and preservation of all things (. . .).

Just as the artwork cannot stand without its maker, so too God is inseparable from its creation. In such a context, the anecdote metaphorically reminds the audience that the ‘artist’ is always reflected in his œuvre.

The multiple modes of appropriation of the anecdote about Pheidias may suggest reconsideration of its Byzantine counterpart, in order to put it in perspective. As the classical precedent reveals, the episode of the self-portrait may imply different modes of reception, all equally telling: the audience may take it, in good faith, as a truthful record of an artistic occurrence; or, again, the audience may pretend to believe it, in order to exploit it for a specific purpose (polemical, parodic, etc.); finally, it may perceive the episode as a paradigm with figurative or metaphorical intent. Within this fluidity of interpretations and the paradigm's atemporality we may be able to understand the actual significance of the portrait of the ζωγράφος described by Mesarites.

Having established, as we did at the beginning of this contribution, that the episode related to the portrait is not plausible from an art historical point of view, we will now consider it from a different angle. First of all, we may ask whether there is any sort of specific reason for the reference to ‘the one who painted such things by his hand (. . .) standing upright at the tomb of the Lord like a watchful keeper’: in other words, how does the passage fit into the economy of Mesarites’ discourse? If it were a polemical reference to the painter's haughtiness vis-à-vis the ‘divine’ canon of icon making, we would expect to find some sort of contextual element which would confirm or at least imply such a possibility. And yet, no such element can be detected nor inferred on textual grounds. The reference to Eulalios may therefore have a different intent, to understand which we have first to ascertain who the ‘painter’ portrayed in the passage is. To proceed in this direction, we should widen our perspective and turn towards the author and the technical composition of his work.

II

A renowned and prolific author of the late Comnenian era, of texts of diverse genres and styles written in a form of self-aware learned Greek, Mesarites exhibits an in-depth commitment to a refined cultivation of language backed by a fluency in rhetorical technique. Like other interpreters of the cultural scene of his time, he took the opportunity to display his confidence by musing upon his own literary achievements. Such are, for example, his words addressed with sadness to his ‘brother’ John, to commemorate the fortieth day since his death:Footnote 45

φθέγξαί τι πρὸς ἡμᾶς, παῦρα μέν, ἀλλὰ μάλα λιγέα, τὰ παρατεθέντα ταυτὶ τῷ ἐκ τῆς σῆς εὐφραδείας νοστίμῳ διάρτυσον ἅλατι. τοῦτο δέ σοι καὶ ἔθιστο, ὅθ’ ἐπωμάδιον ἔφερον τὸν διδασκαλικὸν ἐκεῖνον ζυγὸν καὶ δ’θ’ ὑπομνηματισμοὺς ἐνεχάραττον, αὖθις δ’ ὅτ’ αὐτοβούλως βασιλέως διαγράφειν ἐγκώμια προτεθύμημαι καὶ ἐκφραστικάς τινας διηγήσεις καὶ πρὸς ἠθοποιίαν ἀπηυθυνόμην καὶ πρὸς ἐπιστολίδια γράμματα.

Say something to us, even a small word, but a word indeed! Season, with the savoury salt of that subtle taste for language of yours, the delicacies that I’ve set before you! For you were accustomed to doing so, at the time when I was carrying on my back the heavy burden of being a teacher, when I used to refine my commentaries, or back then, when I felt the natural desire to write praises in honour of the emperor, and some ekphrastic accounts, or again when I turned towards character portrayal and letter writing.

Mesarites’ incursions into the ekphrastic mode, significantly alluded to in the passage, appear to be particularly interesting. Occasionally, he indulges in the appraisal of his iconic speech, which ‘turns the written word into image’ (εἰδωλοποιεῖ . . . τὸ σύγγραμμα)Footnote 46 through its ability ‘to paint in full polychromy’ (ἔμπλεως διαζωγραφῆσαι).Footnote 47 But in some passages such a literary pose is even more accentuated:Footnote 48

χειρὶ ζωγράφου διαλαβεῖν ἐν εἰκόνι πλείστην ὅσα εἰσήνεγκα τὴν σπουδὴν, ὡς ἄν μοι διὰ παντὸς ἐξῇ τῆς σῆς ἐμφορεῖσθαι μοι γλυκυτάτης θείας εἰς παραμύθιον τῆς ψυχῆς. νυνί δε πλέον τοῦ πόθου βιασαμένου με, τῷ παρόντι χάρτῃ ὅσα καὶ σανίδιFootnote 49 κεχρημένος μέλανί τε καὶ καλαμίσκῳ σμικρῷ διαφοιτώντι συχνὰ, καὶ ὀξύτατα λογικήν τινα τὸ ὅλον στήλην καὶ ἔμπνοον ποικιλοχρόοις ἄνθεσι λόγου διαχαράξαι (. . .).

With the hand of a painter, I undertook with greatest zeal to set out as much as possible in an image, so that I might forever fill myself with Your sweetest highness for the solace of my soul. Now then, desire pushes me even more to imprint on this paper, just like on a wood panel, by means of ink and a subtle quill that tirelessly glides to and fro, a full vivid monument [of yours] dyed in the lifelike colours of speech (. . .).

These words, drawn from his still unedited ‘ekphrastic speech’ (λόγος ἔκφραστος) dedicated to the emperor Alexios III Angelos (1195–1203), denote Mesarites’ deep awareness of the principles of rhetorical instruction, according to which ekphrasis is a λόγος περιηγηματικὸς ὑπ'ὄψιν ἄγων ἐναργῶς τὸ δηλούμενον,Footnote 50 ‘a descriptive speech that brings what is enunciated vividly into sight’. In the commentaries of the middle Byzantine rhetorical exegetes, the iconopoietic capacity of the ekphrastic discourse is enhanced by its close affinity to the art of painting: indeed ekphrasis appears as a speech that is close to making visible what cannot be seen through the word alone, imitating as such the art of painting.Footnote 51 From this perspective, the Comnenian belletrist deploys a familiar topos of the ekphrastic repertoire in performing the part of the ζωγράφος, with reference to a kind of speech which is meant to appeal to the audience's sight while it is being told: εἰ γὰρ σαφὴς καὶ ἐναργὴς εἴη ὁ λόγος, ἀπὸ τῆς ἀκοῆς εἰς τοὺς ὀφθαλμοὺς σχεδὸν τὰ λεγόμενα μεθίστησιν, ‘indeed, if the speech is clear and vivid, it will nearly displace what is said from the hearing to the eyes’.Footnote 52 The well known semantic ambivalence of the Greek verb ‘γράφειν’, referring both to the act of ‘writing’ and ‘painting’, is reaffirmed and elaborated with regard to ekphrasis. It is within this framework that the sisterhood between poetry and painting, sanctioned ab antiquo by the Simonidean formula of ‘painting as silent poetry’, ‘poetry as telling painting’ – better known through its Horatian ut pictura poesis counterpartFootnote 53 – is retrieved to suit the purposes of iconic speech.

Throughout Classical Antiquity and beyond, there is a constant return to the relationship between word and image, whether in the guise of theoretical speculation or in the dialectics of literary practice, yet the sovereignty of words,Footnote 54 ‘τῶν λογῶν κράτος’, is maintained over the art of painting. ‘We consider Homer the best of all painters, even in the presence of Euphranor and Apelles’, says Lucian in his dialogue on images,Footnote 55 μᾶλλον δὲ τὸν ἄριστον τῶν γραφέων Ὅμηρον παρόντος Εὐφράνορος καὶ Ἀπελλοῦ δεδέγμεθα, a complex reflection on the virtues of the logos and its higher mimetic capacity among other artistic techniques. It is not a surprise that the Lucianic essay is created during the Second Sophistic, animated by the most eminent masters of ekphrasis — ‘verbal painting’.

Thus, the work of the Comnenian author is deeply rooted in a long standing tradition of literary practice, which maintains the superiority of eloquence over painting. And yet, to the repertoire of topoi provided by the ekphrastic mode he adds his own creative touch. The progymnasmatic pose adopted in his λόγος ἔκφραστος dedicated to Alexios III – the ‘ζωγράφος’ – is reiterated in the discourse celebrating the church of the Holy Apostles: the portrait of ‘the one . . . who painted such things by his hand’ is, according to rhetorical canon, a verbal depiction of the actual maker of the work, Nikolaos Mesarites. But, cleverly enough, the author dissimulates his self-portrait into the scene of the episode of the Holy Women at the Sepulchre, in so doing blending together the literary plan with the alleged plan of the artistic fact.

In this passage we find another reflection of Mesarites’ poetics of the visual, and most notably of illusion. The work, like a miroir déformant, disarticulates the one-to-one correspondence between the description and its monumental referent and suggests, as an alternative, a new kind of artistic representation, which has to be interpreted according to its own specific rules. In the Description we perceive that part of the ekphrastic play is about conveying an ambiguity as to what the fabric of the text is supposed to show, i.e. the church of the Holy Apostles. Then again, rhetorical theory recognizes ekphrasis as a technique of illusion, of resemblance, of making appear, bringing it particularly close to theatre. Mesarites’ writings are permeated by an endless interpolation of ingenious ambiguities: in his Account of the Palace Revolt of John Komnenos, for example, the author plays with the metaphorical associations raised by the term σκιαγραφία – ‘shadow painting’, but also ‘scene/illusion painting’Footnote 56 – creating an admirable theatrical trompe-l’œil.Footnote 57 In this perspective, the aforementioned marginal note appended to the passage fulfils the purpose of enhancing the overall ambiguity, by recalling the name of an artist, Eulalios, which embodies the same semantic ambivalence beneath ekphrasis. By playing around with the concepts of ‘painting’ and ‘eloquence’, the name ‘Eulalios’ is functional to Mesarites’ poetics of illusion insofar as it may fit either him, the ‘sweetly-speaking’ author/ζωγράφος of the ekphrastic composition or the actual maker of the work of art.

To come back to the point where we started, as in the case of the classical sculptor Pheidias, the self-portrait found in Mesarites’ discourse reminds the audience that an author is always dissimulated, or mirrored, in his work. If we were to give an iconographical parallel to it, rather than recalling illuminated portraits of painters, we would be better to refer to examples of authors’ depictions of the type found in cod. Palatinus Graecus 18 of the University Library in Heidelberg [figure 2].

Fig. 2.

Portrait of the poet Lycophron and his scholiast Isaac (sic) Tzetzes. Cod. Pal. Graec 18, fol. 96 v, 13th c., Universitätsbibliothek Heidelberg.

III

It only remains for us, before concluding, to establish whether there is any particular reason for the insertion of the portrait of the ζωγράφος – according to our demonstration, Mesarites himself – into the scene of the Holy Women at the Sepulchre. In this respect, the author's career provides a meaningful indication of the motivations lying behind the imagery adopted in his picture.

Nikolaos Mesarites was one of those intellectuals whose teaching activitiesFootnote 58 were rewarded by appointment to positions within the church hierarchy.Footnote 59 Deacon of the church of Hagia Sophia in Constantinople,Footnote 60 he was named skeuophylax (i.e. keeper) of the treasure of the Palatine chapels,Footnote 61 an appointment he kept until the takeover of the Byzantine capital by the crusaders (1204). In the immediate aftermath of the establishment of Latin rule in Constantinople, he found himself involved in the parleys occurring amongst the Greek clergy and the representatives of the new regime, acting as a mediator for his mastery of both languages. Because of this, he also served as interpreter for the papal legates sent by Innocent III (1198–1216) to Constantinople in 1206/7 and 1213/4, respectively cardinal Benedict of Santa Susanna and Cardinal Pelagius of Albano. Then, his career took a different shape in Nicaea, in the newly created political entity risen from the ashes of the Byzantine empire: there, he was named referendarios by the patriarch Michael IV Autoreianos (1206–1212),Footnote 62 before taking up the role of metropolitan of Ephesos.Footnote 63

In light of the above, the textual imagery may be regarded not only as a clear assertion of his mastery of the ekphrastic technique, but also and most importantly as a proud and self-indulgent reflection upon his distinguished career. In other words, in the passage, in a metaphorical way, Mesarites recalls his appointment as ‘keeper’ of the Palatine chapels – especially the Theotokos tou Pharou, known to be the home of some of the most prominent relics of Christendom: the Mandylion of Christ, the Crown of Thorns, the Holy Nail, the Holy Keramion, Christ's iron collar shackle, the linen sheets in which his corpse was wrapped, the linen towel with which he dried the apostle's feet, the Holy Lance, Christ's robe, the reed which he held in his right hand, Christ's sandals and a fragment of his tomb stone.Footnote 64 And along with it, he remembers ‘all other attire he most fittingly wore while alive and on describing those things’, so to say all the other offices he held, which, combined with rhetorical activity, gave him occasion for pride during the course of his life.

Rather than being a description of a painter's self-portrait on monumental scale, the passage in Mesarites’ discourse on the church of the Holy Apostles represents a meditation of the author upon his self, a moment of indulgence in his poetics of ekphrasis and an auto-celebration of his achievements in public life. Indeed, according to the argument presented here, the evidence provided by the passage is nothing more than a highly-sophisticated performance around a complex rhetorical technique, which has no implication at the level of the monument's artistic fact. From this perspective, the ‘iconography’ suggested by the passage should not be adduced as proof of the twelfth-century dating of the church's mosaic decoration.Footnote 65 In conclusion, in the episode of the Holy Women at the Sepulchre, Mesarites sketches his ‘portrait’ in words, as a signature to his work. To use an expression borrowed from ambiguous ‘ekphrastic’ terms, he draws his self-portrait in his ‘graphic’ composition.

Footnotes

*

I am most grateful to the editor, Ruth Macrides, and to Albrecht Berger for their generosity in providing valuable comments on my article and to Rebecca Darley who read a first draft. The research was supported by the Alexander von Humboldt Foundation. All translations presented in the text are mine, unless otherwise stated.

1 For the critical edition of the text see Heisenberg, A., Grabeskirche und Apostelkirche, zwei Basiliken Konstantins, II. Die Apostelkirche in Konstantinopel (Leipzig1908) 10–96 (hereafter Mesarites, Descr.); Engl. trans. Downey, G., ‘Nikolaos Mesarites, Description of the Church of the Holy Apostles at Constantinople’, Transactions of the American Philosophical Society 47.6 (1957) 855–924: 861–918.

2 The text, preserved in fragmentary form, is found in two manuscripts, once part of the same codicological unit: Gr. F 93 sup. (Martini, E., Bassi, D., Catalogus codicum Graecorum Bibliothecae Ambrosianae, I (Milan1906) nr. 350, 405–408) and Gr. F 96 sup. (Martini and Bassi, nr. 352, 408–413). On ms. F 93 sup. cf. also: Heisenberg, A., Nikolaos Mesarites Die Palastrevolution des Johannes Komnenos (Würzburg1907) 6–17 (hereafter Mesarites, Seditio); on ms. F 96 sup.: J. Durand, M.-P. Lafitte (eds), Le trésor de la Sainte-Chapelle [Catalogue de l’exposition, Paris, Musée du Louvre, 31 mai-27 août 2001] (Paris 2001) no. 3, 36 (B. Flusin).

3 Noteworthy reconstructions heavily based on Mesarites’ text are those by A. Heisenberg (Grabeskirche und Apostelkirche, 140–153, 172–268), and by A. M. Friend, G. Downey and P. A. Underwood, who in the 1940s promoted a systematic study of the Constantinopolitan monument under the aegis of Dumbarton Oaks: The Holy Apostles: Visualizing a Lost Monument. The Underwood Drawings from the Image Collections and Fieldwork Archives, with essays by B. Daskas and F. Gargova, (Washington, D.C. 2015). Working on the same set of sources, the aforementioned reconstructions propose two chronologies for the decorative cycle of the church: 6th century (Heisenberg) and middle-Byzantine (Friend-Downey-Underwood). Mesarites’ text has widely been exploited to establish the architectural and decorative history of the monument. All relevant hypotheses are summarized in Epstein, A. W., ‘The rebuilding and redecoration of the Holy Apostles in Constantinople: a reconsideration’, Greek, Roman and Byzantine Studies 23/1 (1982) 79–92.

4 See Maguire, H. P., Truth and convention in Byzantine Descriptions of Works of Art (Washington, D. C.1974); James, L., Webb, R., ‘”To understand ultimate things and enter secret places”: Ekphrasis and art in Byzantium’, Art History 14 (1991) 1–17; Baseu-Barabas, Th., Zwischen Wort und Bild: Nikolaos Mesarites und seine Beschreibung des Mosaikschmucks der Apostelkirche in Konstantinopel (Vienna1992); Webb, R., ‘The aesthetics of sacred space: narrative, metaphor and motion in ekphraseis of church buildings’, Dumbarton Oaks Papers 53 (1999) 59–74.

5 Mesarites, Descr., XVIII, 62.8–9 = Downey, Description, 910a.[16].

6 Mesarites, Descr., 63.18–64.3 = Downey, cit. 910b.[23] (cf. 884a for a different translation of the passage).

7 Ambros. Gr. F 96 sup., f. 4r.

8 B. Flusin is of this opinion, in: Durand-Lafitte, Trésor Sainte-Chapelle, nr. 3, 36; see also Flusin, , ‘Nikolas Mésaritès Ethopée d’un astrologue qui ne put devenir patriarche’, in: Mélanges Gilbert Dagron = Travaux et Mémoires 14 (2002) 221–242: 232–33; but contra Heisenberg, Palastrevolution, 16–17.

9 Theodore Metochites, Ἠθικὸς ἢ περὶ παιδείας, [34].6–7, ed. Polemis, J., Θεόδωρος ΜετοχίτηςἨθικὸς ἢ περὶ παιδείας, (Athens1995) (hereafter Metochites, Περὶ παιδείας). Apelles, Lysippos, Parrhasios, Pheidias, Praxiteles, Zeuxis are commonly featured in Byzantine sources as exempla of classical workmanship: see, e.g. Photios, Hom. X, 102.5–9, ed. V. Laourdas, Φωτίου Ομιλίαι, Έκδοσις κειμένου εισαγωγή και σχόλια (Thessalonike 1959) (hereafter Photios, Hom.).

10 Heisenberg, Grabeskirche und Apostelkirche, 170–71; Heisenberg, , Die alten Mosaiken der Apostelkirche und der Hagia Sophia, in Ξένια (Athens1912) 121–160: 123.

11 Nikephoros Kallistos Xanthopoulos (PLP no. 20826), author of a renowned Historia Ecclesiastica down to 610, flourished in the first half of the 14th century. On the author and his main work, see Gastgeber, Ch., Panteghini, S. (eds), Ecclesiastical History and Nikephoros Kallistou Xanthopoulos (Vienna2015), with further bibliography.

12 The passage makes a pun on Eulalios’ name, which is made up of the particle εὖ (‘well’) and the verb λαλεῖν (‘to talk’).

13 Xanthopoulos, Carm. XIV, 46 ed. Papadopoulos-Kerameus, A., ‘Νικηφόρος Κάλλιστος Ξανθόπουλος’, Byzantinische Zeitschrift 9 (1902) 38–49; see also Mango, C., The Art of the Byzantine Empire 312–1453: Sources and Documents (Toronto1986) 231.

14 Photios, Hom. XVII, 167.12–14; trans. adapted from Daskas, ‘Nota sulla Theotókos descritta da Fozio, Hom. XVII 2 (p. 167, 14–17 Laourdas)’, Acme 64.2 (2011) 339–51: 344. Cf. Mango, C., The Homilies of Photius, patriarch of Constantinople (Cambridge, MA1958) 290.

15 The traditional attitude is represented e.g. by Photios, who celebrates the artist responsible for the pavement in the palatine church of the Pharos by linking his skilfulness to God's intercession: Hom. X, 102.5–7 (trans. Mango, Homilies, 187). Similarly, the verses inscribed on a middle Byzantine ivory diptych with a heortological cycle, at the National Museum in Warsaw, admonish the beholder not to admire the art but God himself who oversaw the making of the object: (. . .) ΜΗ ΤΗΝ ΤΕΧΝΗΝ ΘΑΥΜ(Α)ΖΕ ΤΟΝ Δ’ ΕΠΙCΤΑΤΗΝ / ΟC ΠΟΛΛΑ ΤΕΥΞΕ ΤΕΡΠΝΑ Ν(O)Ω ΔΡΑCΤΙΡ(Ι)Ω (see Ratkowska, P., ‘An east Christian diptych with the heortological cycle’, Bulletin du Musée National de Varsovie 6 (1965) 92–115: 96).

16 Anthol. Palat., XVI (Appendix Planudea), 81, 111 ed. Aubreton, R., Bouffière, F., Anthologie grecque. Deuxième partie. Anthologie de Planude (Paris1980); trans. Mango, C., ‘Antique statuary and the Byzantine beholder’, Dumbarton Oaks Papers 17 (1963) 53–75: 66–7.

17 Paradigmatic for this point are the cases of Michail Astrapas and Eutychios, whose names appear in the late 13th-c. paintings of the Panagia Peribleptos in Ohrid and in a few other early 14th-c. frescoes commissioned by the Serbian king Milutin. For a general overview of the developments of Palaiologan painting, see Mouriki, D., Studies in Late Byzantine Painting (London1995), passim. For a study of the artistic self in Late Byzantium, see Drpić, I., ‘Painter as scribe: artistic identity and the arts of graphē in late Byzantium’, Word & Image 29.3 (2013) 334–53.

18 On the Palaiologan Renaissance see Ševčenko, I., ‘The Palaeologan Renaissance’, in Treadgold, W. (ed.), Renaissances before the Renaissance. Cultural revivals of Late Antiquity and the Middle Ages (Stanford CA1984) 144–71.

19 The contact between the two Palaiologan scholars is well attested in a poem by Theodore Metochites to Xanthopoulos, ed. by Cunningham, M., Featherstone, J., Georgiopoulou, S., ‘Theodore Metochites's poem to Nikephoros Kallistos Xanthopoulos’, in Okeanos: Essays presented to Ihor Ševčenko on his Sixtieth Birthday by his Colleagues and Students [=Harvard Ukrainian Studies 7 (1983)] 100–16 (hereafter Metochites, Carm.).

20 The comparison is established in Plato's Sophist: the sophistic logos, with its mimetic technique that produces deceptive images is assimilated to painting and to its illusory capacity (234c 2-d 1).

21 Metochites, Carm. [Εἰς τὸν σοφὸν Ξανθόπουλον τὸν Νικηφόρον καὶ περὶ τῶν οικείων συνταγμάτων. ΙΒ.], v. 179, 107.

22 The ‘Manganeia’ corpus is transmitted by two mss., the cod. Marc. Gr. XI, 22 (13th c.) and the Ambros. Gr. O 94 sup. (15th c.). On this collection, see S. Bernardinello, Theodori Prodromi De Manganis (Padua 1972) 1–25; Magdalino, P., The empire of Manuel I Komnenos, 1143–1180 (Cambridge1993) 494–500 [Appendix 1].

23 Manganeios Prodromos, Carm., 33 (cod. Marc. Gr. XI, 22, fol. 81v) ed. Miller, E., ‘Poésies inédites de Théodore Prodrome’, Annuaire de l’association pour l’encouragement des études grecques en France 17 (1883) 18–64. N. A. Bees has identified the sebastokrator with Alexios I Komnenos’ brother Isaac and the son with John Komnenos, the refounder of the Constantinopolitan monastery of Christ Evergetes, where the image of the Annunciation would have been kept. It is on the grounds of this reconstruction that Bees has Eulalios in the 12th c.: see Bees, , ‘Kunstgeschichtliche Untersuchungen über die Eulalios-frage und den Mosaickschmuck der Apostelkirche zu Konstantinopel’, Repertorium für Kunstwissenschaft 39 (1916) 97–251: 113–15. Of contrasting opinion is Heisenberg, Grabeskirche und Apostelkirche, 166–68, according to whom Eulalios was active at the time of the emperor Justin II (r. 565–578), when a decorative campaign at the church of the Holy Apostles is recorded (Theophanes, Chronographia, ed. C. de Boor, 2 vols. (Leipzig 1883, 1885, repr. Hildesheim 1980) I, 241.30–242.3.

24 The name ‘Eulalios’ is poorly attested in recorded inscriptions and graffiti (see, e.g., IEph 555 = Ephesos 2064: D. F. McCabe, Ephesos Inscriptions. Texts and List [The Princeton Project on the Inscriptions of Anatolia], Princeton 1991) and in documentary papyri (see, e.g., a documentary papyrus from Oxyrhynchos, PSI IX 1081, l. 34). None of the examples recorded refers to artists. Likewise, the name is rarely found in episcopal lists. Better known are a 7th-c. bishop of Zenonoupolis, Isauria (Prosopographie der mittelbyzantinischen Zeit (PMBZ), eds. R. J. Lilie et al. (Berlin 1999) 1663); a Studite monk (PMBZ 1664); a bishop of Syracuse in the late 5th-early 6th c., mentioned in the Vita Ss. Fulgentii (Bibliotheca Hagiographica Latina 3208), MPL 65.128d, 130a.

25 Metochites, Περὶ παιδείας, [34].9–12. On the contrary, the traditional view expresses the superiority of the logos in attaining immortality: along with the very much renowned Horatian ‘exegi monumentum aere perennius’ (Od. III, 30), see also, as more pertinent to our discussion, Luc. Im. [23].1–6.

26 On the life and work of Prodromos, see Hörandner, W., Theodoros Prodromos: Historische Gedichte (Vienna1974) 21–72.

27 vv. 43–48 (cod. Vat. Gr. 1823, ff. 195r-196r) ed. A. Maiuri, ‘Una nuova poesia di Teodoro Prodromo in greco volgare’, Byzantinische Zeitschrift 23 (1914–19) 397–407: 400. The attribution to Theodore Prodromos is not unanimously accepted: see e.g. Eideneier, H., Ptochoprodromos (Cologne1991) 34–7 where further discussion is summarized.

28 Epigr. Ded. 1, vv. 9–14 ed. Agapitos, P. A., ‘Poets and painters: Theodoros Prodromos’ dedicatory verses of his novel to an anonymous caesar’, Jahrbuch der Österreichischen Byzantinistik 50 (2000) 173–85. Prodromos asks that his most recent works not be placed against the paintings of Praxiteles and Apelles, but that his art be compared to that of ‘ζωγράφοις νέοισιν’, ‘recent painters’, so that ‘he may possibly appear as not much worse in relation to them’ (Ibid., 178).

29 ‘Quacker’ is employed to render in English the Sicilian dialectal ‘Quaquaraquà’, meaning an overly talkative person, who never accomplishes the many things (s)he talks about doing: see Sgroi, S. C., ‘Le traduzioni del Giorno della Civetta di Leonardo Sciascia nelle lingue indoeuropee (romanze e germaniche) e non (ungherese, finnico e cinese) e la resa dei dialettalismi: un caso paradigmatico (quaquaraquà)’, RiCOGNIZIONI. Rivista di lingue, letterature e culture moderne 1.2 (2014) 187–224: 201–2. As compared with the original Greek, the English name is onomatopoeic, bearing also a reference to the duck's quack.

30 On this dignity see ODB I, s. v. chartoularios, 416a-b (A. Kazhdan). The ‘Man in White Paper’ is a character created by the English writer Lewis Carroll (Through the Looking-Glass and What Alice Found There, 1871). He is the caricature of a bureaucrat, surrounded by piles of papers.

31 Translators of the passage have kept the painters’ names as they are in Greek, considering them to refer to actual figures. See Heisenberg, Die alten Mosaiken der Apostelkirche, 124; Malickij, N., ‘Remarques sur la date des mosaïques de l’église des Saints-Apôtres à Constantinople décrites par Mésaritès’, Byzantion 3 (1926) 123–151: 127; Mango, Sources and documents, 230.

32 See LSJ s.v. πρόδρομος.

33 No painter under the name of ‘Chartoularis’ is known in other sources. ‘Chenaros’, on the other hand, appears in a legendary account preserved in an old Russian manuscript tradition, having to do with a goose herder who becomes the pupil of the painter: see Preobrazhensky, A. S., ‘О некоторых формах выражения авторского самосознания византийских и русских иконописцев’, in Evseeva, E. M., Художник в Византии и Древней Руси. Проблема авторства (Moscow2014) 59–119: 69–71. I am most grateful to Ivan Drpić for having drawn my attention to this contribution.

34 Bees, ‘Untersuchungen über die Eulalios-frage’, 117; Malickij, ‘Remarques sur la date des mosaiques de l'église des Saints-Âpotres’, 126–8; Kalopissi-Verti, Painters’ portraits, 138.

35 Heisenberg, Die alten Mosaiken der Apostelkirche, 123–4

36 See e.g. Mango, Sources and documents, 230.

37 Kalopissi-Verti, Painters’ portraits, 138–9.

38 Footnote Ibid., passim.

39 Examples are found in Kalopissi-Verti, Painters’ portraits, 130–6.

40 O. Demus suggested a different reading of the passage, to bring it into concordance with Byzantine iconographic practices. According to him, the figure of the artist has been confused with a ‘more plausible’ alternative, the king and prophet David. See Demus, , ‘“The Sleepless Watcher”: ein Erklärungsversuch’, Jahrbuch der Österreichischen Byzantinistik 28 (1979) 241–45. In response to such an improbable reading, see Ševčenko, N. Patterson, ‘The representation of donors and holy figures on four Byzantine icons’, Δελτίον τῆς Χριστιανικῆς Ἀρχαιολογικῆς Ἑταιρείας 17 (1993–94) 157–64:164 note 24.

41 As we read in the sixth session of the second Nicene council (787), τοῦ γὰρ ζωγράφου ἡ τέχνη μόνον, ‘to a painter [belongs] only his artistry’, since μένουν αὐτῶν [sc. τῶν ἁγίων πατέρων] ἡ ἐπίνοια καὶ ἡ παράδοσις, ‘to the Fathers is tied the conception [of icons] and their tradition’: Mansi XIII, 252C. For obvious reasons, in post-iconoclastic sources, a departure from the iconographic norm is normally criticised: see e.g. Theophanes, Chronographia, ed. C. de Boor (Leipzig 1883, repr. Hildesheim 1980) 2 vols; I, 149.28–150.1.

42 The traits of Constantine Monomachos have been recognized in the figure of king Solomon, who unlike his canonical type, appears in the mosaic as a bearded figure: see Mouriki, D., The Mosaics of Nea Moni on Chios (Athens, 1985) I, 137. On the problematic aspects of such an identification cf. Kartsonis, A., Anastasis: The Making of an Image (Princeton1986) 216–17.

43 Plut. Per., XXXI, 4. The self-portrait is also recalled by Cicero (Orat. LXX 234–235; Tusc. I 15 34; de orat. II 17 73).

44 ps.-Aristot. Mund. 6, 399b-400a. See also: Apul. Mund. 32; Val. Max., VIII 14, 6.

45 Mesarites, Epitaphios, 42.15–21 ed. A. Heisenberg, ‘Neue Quellen zur Geschichte des lateinischen Kaisertums und der Kirchenunion’, Sitzungsberichte der bayerischen Akademie der Wissenschaften, philos.-philol. und hist. Kl. 1922, 5, I. Der Epitaphios des Nikolaos Mesarites auf seinen Bruder Johannes (Munich 1923) 14 (hereafter Mesarites, Epitaphios). See also Flusin, ‘Ethopée’, 223.

46 Mesarites, Epitaphios, 42.29. Τhe reference is also to the illusory ability of the (ekphrastic) discourse (cf. Plat. Soph., 234c 2-d 1: εἴδωλα λεγόμενα), which is further developed with reference to the concept of ‘skiagraphia’ (see below, note 56).

47 Mesarites, Λόγος ἔκφραστος εἰς τὸν βασιλέα κυρὸν ἀλέξιον τὸν κομνηνὸν, ms. Ambr. F 96 sup.: καὶ γάρ τινα στήλην ἀρετῶν πασῶν ἔμπλεως διαζωγραφῆσαι τῷ λόγῳ προὐθέμην (f. 35v); ἡ φύσις ἠγαλματούργησεν ὡς ὁ λόγος φθάσας διεζωγράφησεν (f. 42r). I am preparing a critical edition of this text.

48 Footnote Ibid., f. 35v.

49 Cf. Mesarites, Seditio, 20.13: ἀντὶ πίνακος τῷ παρόντι χάρτῃ.

50 Aphthonios, Progymnasmata, 36.22–23 ed. Rabe, H., Rhetores Graeci, X (Leipzig1926); cf. Nikolaos, Progymnasmata, 68.8–9 ed. Felten, J., Rhetores Graeci, XI (Leipzig1913): λόγος ἀφηγηματικός, ‘a discourse that gives an account down to the last detail’. On ekphrasis (descriptio) as an exercise of rhetorical practice, see H. Lausberg, Handbuch der literarischen Rhetorik: eine Grundlegung der Literaturwissenschaft (Munich 1960) § 1133. On its relation to description of artworks see P. Friedländer (ed.), Johannes von Gaza und Paulus Silentiarius. Kunstbeschreibungen justinianischer Zeit (Leipzig and Berlin 1912) 1–103.

51 Johannes Sardianos, In Aphthonii Progymnasmata, 217.3–5 ed. H. Rabe, Rhetores Graeci, XV (Leipzig 1926).

52 Johannes Sardianos, In Aphthonii Progymnasmata, 224.24–225.2; Nikolaos, Progymnasmata, 68.11–12, 70.4–6.

53 Ap. Plut. Mor. [De Glor. Athen.] 346–47, picked up by Hor. Ars poet., 361, who coins the renowned formula. On the Horatian formula and its interpretation see A. Manieri, ‘Pittura e poesia in Hor. Ars Poet. 361–365’, Quaderni Urbinati di Cultura Classica, n.s., 47.2 (1994) 105–114.

54 The expression is drawn from the elegy on Athens written by its 12th-century metropolitan Michael Choniates: Versus in Athenas, v. 25, ed. S. P. Lampros, Μιχαὴλ Ἀκομινάτου τοῦ χωνιάτου τὰ σωζόμενα, II (Athens 1880) 398 = ed. S. G. Mercati, ‘Intorno alla elegia di Michele Acominato sulla decadenza della città di Atene’ (1935), in: Collectanea Byzantina, ed. A. Acconcia Longo (Bari 1970) I, 483–88: 487. For a brief discussion on the significance of this text see below note 56.

55 Luc. Im. [8].1–3. The virtues of the logos, seized by poets through the embellishments of metre and by orators by means of eloquence are alone able to paint the portrait of a figure with indelible (immortal) colours: Im. [16].10–16; and [23].1–6. On the Lucianic essay see M. Cistaro, Sotto il velo di Pantea. Imagines e Pro Imaginibus di Luciano (Messina 2009).

56 Seditio, [1], 19.11–18. For a similar allusion to σκιαγραφία (through ‘σκιά’, ‘shadow’) see Michael Choniates, Versus in Athenas, vv. 1–2: Ἔρως Ἀθηνῶν τῶν πάλαι θρυλουμένων/ ἔγραψε ταῦτα ταῖς σκιαῖς προσαθύρων / καὶ τοῦ πόθου τὸ θάλπον ὑπαναψύχων, ‘Love for the once talked-of Athens / depicted such things, playing around with shadows / soothing thus the sting of regret’ (397 Lampros = 486 Mercati). The ambiguity of the latter passage is further enhanced by ‘ἔγραψε’, meaning both the act of writing and painting (recalled also in v. 30: ἴνδαλμα ταύτης γραφικῶς ἐστησάμην, ‘I “graphically” [i.e. in words/images] set up its appearance’, Mercati ed.: 488). Michael Choniates’ elegy is, again, deeply rooted in the tradition of ekphrasis. But, for a different interpretation of the poem, as a description of an actual painting representing the city, see Speck, P., ‘Eine byzantinische Darstellung der antiken Stadt Athen’, Hellenika 28 (1975) 415–18: 416–17.

57 Further discussion of the significance of the text is found in B. Daskas, ‘Images de la ville impériale dans les ekphrastikai diêgêseis de Nikolaos Mésaritès. Le récit sur la Révolution de Palais’, in P. Odorico, C. Messis (eds), Villes de toute beauté: L’ekphrasis des cités dans les littératures byzantine et byzantino-slaves, Actes du Colloque International (Prague, 25–26 novembre 2011) [=Dossiers Byzantins 12 (2012)] 135–48.

58 Mesarites, Epitaphios, 42.18. On the patriarchal school and its attested teachers during the Comnenian age see Browning, R., ‘The patriarcal school at Constantinople in the twelfth century’, and ‘Continuation’, Byzantion 22 (1962) 167–202; Byzantion 23 (1963) 11–40.

59 E.g. Constantinos Stilbes: see Browning, ‘The patriarchal school’, 29–32.

60 Mesarites, Disputatio, 15.3–4 and Descriptio itineris Nicaeam 35.13. ed. Heisenberg, A., Neue Quellen, II. Die Unionsverhandlungen vom. 30. August 1206. Patriarchenwahl und Kaiserkronüng in Nikaia 1208 (Munich1923).

61 Mesarites, Seditio, 19.2–3; [2], 19.20–22.

62 Mesarites, Descriptio itineris Nicaeam, 35.13–14.

63 Mesarites, Renuntiatio, 6.1 ed. A. Heisenberg, ‘Neue Quellen, III. Der Bericht des Nikoloas Mesarites über die politischen und kirchlichen Ereignisse des Jahres 1214’ (Munich 1923). His appointment also appears in synodal letters: see Pavlov, A., ‘Синодальная грамота 1213 года о браке греческаго императора с дочерю армянскаго князя’, Vizantiiskii Vremennik 4 (1897) 160–66: 166; and also: [I], p. 104.43 (May 9, 1216); [II], p. 106.3–4, 107.36 (July 4, 1216); [III], p. 110.3–4, 25–26 (August 11, 1216) ed. Kurtz, Cинодальныхъ грамоты.

64 The ‘decalogue’ of relics is spelled out in Mesarites, Seditio [13], 29.34–31.32. On these relics, see Klein, H. A., ‘Sacred relics and imperial ceremonies at the Great Palace of Constantinople’, in F. A. Bauer (ed.), Visualisierungen von Herrschaft. Frühmittelalterliche Residenzen Gestalt und Zeremoniell = BYZAS 5 (2006) 79–99: 91–92.

65 See, e.g., Mango, Sources and Documents, 230; and more recently, Zarras, N., ‘A gem of artistic ekphrasis: Nicholas Mesarites’ Description of the mosaics in the Church of the Holy Apostles at Constantinople’, in Simpson, A. (ed.), Byzantium, 1180–1204: ‘The Sad Quarter of a Century’? (Athens2015) 261–282: 265–66.

Ibid
Ibid

* I am most grateful to the editor, Ruth Macrides, and to Albrecht Berger for their generosity in providing valuable comments on my article and to Rebecca Darley who read a first draft. The research was supported by the Alexander von Humboldt Foundation. All translations presented in the text are mine, unless otherwise stated.

Figure 0

Fig. 1.Marginal note Ambros. Gr. F 96 sup., f. 4 r (photograph: Veneranda Biblioteca Ambrosiana).

Figure 1

Fig. 2.Portrait of the poet Lycophron and his scholiast Isaac (sic) Tzetzes. Cod. Pal. Graec 18, fol. 96 v, 13th c., Universitätsbibliothek Heidelberg.