Wednesday, November 30, 2016

Empress Theodora of Byzantium

Depending on when you last learned about the history of the Roman Empire, you may have learned that the Roman Empire collapsed in 400-something at the hands of the Barbarians at the Gates. Or, you might have learned that the Barbarians at the Gates only succeeded in destroying the Western half of the Roman Empire, plunging Western Europe into the Dark Ages while the Eastern half of the empire went on kicking until the walls of Constantinople (now Istanbul) fell to Ottoman cannons in 1453.
Whatever the case, the people we call the Byzantines thought of themselves as Roman, although their Empire featured some key differences from the traditional Roman Empire. Number one: they spoke Greek, not Latin. Number two: the paganism of the Old Empire was dead and the religion of Byzantium was Christianity.
Much like its progenitor, the Byzantine Empire was highly patriarchal but in the 6th century, the Byzantine world was rocked by one historical babe: a woman who the contemporary historian Procopius sometimes called “Theodora from the Brothel.”
Theodora was probably born around 500 CE and was raised in Constantinople’s Hippodrome as part of a family of entertainers. As a teenager, she was a renowned burlesque dancer and prostitute, who probably had at least one child out of wedlock, and possibly a few abortions. Her scandalous past would be used by some (such as the aforementioned Procopius) to defame and discredit her accomplishments later on. At 18, tired of life in the Hippodrome, Theodora took a trip to North Africa with her sugar daddy (the governor of Libya) but soon parted ways with him and joined an order of religious rebels known as the Monophysites (more about them later).
After returning to Constantinople from her sojourn in Africa, Theodora met and fell in love with the heir-apparent to the Emperor, Justinian – who himself had a rather squalid past as a peasant from Serbia. Justinian and Theodora had a rather unusual relationship for their day, most sources seeming to show that they regarded each other as confidants and intellectual equals rather than just lovers. Justinian expressed interest in marrying Theodora, but it was illegal for a patrician like him to marry an actress scumbag like her. So, Justinian took up the issue with his doting Uncle Justin, then the Emperor.
Initially, Justinian’s hopes of having the law changed were dashed by his aunt, the Empress Euphemia, who herself had once been a prostitute and didn’t like the idea of some other former prostitute sullying her position. (Mm. Dat post-classical cat fight.) After Euphemia’s death, Emperor Justin yielded to Justinian’s wishes, and changed the law so that Theodora (and other reformed actresses) could marry. After Justin died, Justinian ascended to the throne and Theodora played a more active role in helping him rule than was customary for Byzantine Empresses.
Theodora lived before the Eastern Orthodox and Roman Catholic Churches split and before Islam arrived on the scene, but the Mediterranean of Theodora’s day was rife with a theological conflict of its own: mainly between Monophysite and Chalcedon Christians. Put simply, early Christians had a lot of debates to sort out amongst themselves, which resulted in many councils among the big wigs of the Church to decide what would be considered Orthodox and what would be considered heresy, and often as not, they couldn’t come up with an agreement that everyone was willing to live with. The dispute between the Monophysites and the rest of Christendom at the time was over the nature of Jesus Christ. Mainstream Christianity declared that he had two natures: one divine, the other human (with all sorts of hairs to split about how those two natures coexisted) while the Monophysites believed that Jesus had one nature that was purely divine. Even though they were persona non grata in the empire, Theodora was a devout Monophysite, while Justinian towed the party line. Their theological differences and the political implications of these differences never seemed to trouble their marriage. Theodora was an important friend to the Monophysites, and may have helped them survive. She even eroded Justinian in the end, and he converted to Monophysitism near the end of his life, long after his beloved wife had died.
Religion was not all that divided Byzantine society and even though Theodora left the Hippodrome behind her as a teenager, it continued to play an important role in Byzantine society, and therefore, in her reign. Think of the Hippodrome as a hybridization of circus, theatre, sports arena, and political forum. The Hippodrome was dominated by two main factions: the Blues, who represented Orthodoxy and the elite, and the Greens, who represented the people and Monophysites. Imagine that the Republicans and Democrats were football teams as well as political parties – or that the Giants and the Steelers helped run political campaigns – and you have some idea of how influential (and divisive) the Blues and the Greens were.
Theodora’s father had been a bear-keeper for the Greens, but after he died and Theodora’s mother remarried, the Greens refused to give Theodora’s step-father the job. Sensing an opportunity to enhance their image, the Blues gave him a job and Theodora’s loyalties switched. Needless to say, Justinian and Theodora showed blatant favoritism to the Blues until an inflammatory little incident in 532: The Nika Riot.
Justinian was obsessed with restoring the glories of the Roman Empire and though his campaigns of re-conquest were largely successful, they were also expensive. Expensive wars equals higher taxes – and no one in the history of the world has ever liked paying taxes. After a minor incident where a Blue and a Green slated for execution were miraculously saved by a collapsing scaffold and then were not pardoned by Justinian, the Blues and the Greens temporarily decided to agree on hating Justinian’s guts.
As a result, when Justinian showed his mug at a chariot race at the Hippodrome the Greens and Blues rioted, yelling, “Nika! Nika!” (Win! Win!) and proceeded to destroy much of Constantinople in the process. Justinian was ready to cut and run, but Theodora insisted on staying and facing the rebels, ultimately convincing Justinian to stay as well. He sent his generals to lock the rioters in the Hippodrome and slaughter – oh – 30,000 or so of them, perhaps as much as ten percent of the city’s population.
That quieted things down.
Despite the bloody legacy of the Nika Riot, there are also some positive changes associated with Justinian and Theodora’s rule, mainly in legal changes for women. Although the laws are in Justinian’s name, Theodora probably had a hand in putting them together – laws that closed brothels and sent prostitutes to live in convents, and punished pimps rather than prostitutes. Anti-rape legislation was passed to have incarcerated women kept in nunneries instead of in male-guarded prisons where they might be assaulted. Women’s property rights were expanded and widows could maintain the guardianship of their children if there was no suitable male guardian available. Men could no longer murder their adulterous wives, and laws were passed to help prevent female infanticide and abandonment of female children. Certainly, things were not all sunshine and roses for women in the empire after that, but it was a start.
Theodora died in 548 of cancer, having lived through a meteoric rise in social status and enjoying a short, but fairly successful political career.
What a babe.

Sources:

Friday, November 11, 2016

Anne of Austria



Recently, my husband and I have been watching The Musketeers, a BBC series about the adventures of characters from Alexandre Dumas’ novel (I’ll let you guess which one). It is a playful interpretation that sometimes has the feel of a Spaghetti Western. My husband has patiently been putting up with me interrupting the show to explain historical references (such as the War of the Three Henrys – we took AP European History together in high school, but I remember more) or evaluate historical accuracy: a fruitless endeavor given the anachronistic governmental values that the Musketeers tout and pointless since Dumas’ novel was never really historically accurate either.

On one such occasion, I mentioned how much I appreciated the interpretation of Anne of Austria, who is neither femme fatale, nor complete doormat. This got us discussing the life and exploits of the real Anne of Austria, at which point, my husband suggested that I write a blog post about her.

Anne of Austria, as far as I can tell, never spent any time in Austria. She grew up in Spain, and then after marrying Louis XIII of France at the age of 14 (don’t worry, he was also 14), spent all of her adult life living in France. She is known misleadingly as Anne of Austria because she was a member of the Hapsburg family that at the time ruled both Austria and Spain. In order to ensure a continued alliance among the Catholic Powers of Europe, the Spanish Hapsburgs continuously married the Austrian Hapsburgs and they both occasionally married French royalty, just to mix things up. (Aren’t you glad we abandoned this style of diplomacy?) Anne’s mother was Austrian and her father was King Phillip III of Spain – so, Anne was officially the Archduchess of Austria.
The France Anne first arrived in was certainly a power player on the European stage, but it was in an unstable condition. The Bourbon Dynasty was only a generation old (technically, not even a dynasty yet) having come to power when Louis XIII’s father Henry IV came out victorious in France’s civil/religious war: The War of the Three Henrys. (Say what you will about Europe, but they had a knack for naming wars.) Le bon roi Henri was assassinated in 1610, leaving Louis XIII to become king at the tender age of 9, with his mother Marie de’Medici (who warrants a blog post of her own) as his regent.  
When Anne first arrived at the French court, Louis had little interest in her, romantically or otherwise, and Marie de’Medici was too interested in ruling to spare much thought for her teenage daughter-in-law, and so Anne maintained her Spanish customs – a no-no for foreign queens who almost always fare better when they adopt the culture and customs of their husband’s kingdom.
Two years after their marriage, Louis, with a little help from his friends, overthrew and banished his mother, deciding at 16 that his mom was ruining his lif-fuh and that he was ready to rule France on his own – or at least, he was ready to have someone else whispering in his ear. The engineer of the coup was the Duke of Luynes who tried to bring Louis and Anne closer together by replacing Anne’s Spanish ladies-in-waiting with French ones, and getting her to dress in French styles. When none of this had the desired effect, Luynes suggested to the king that maybe he ought to have sex with his wife and get about that all important kingly business of producing an heir. Now age 18, Louis was moderately more interested in sex.
Sources suggest that Anne and Louis never had a warm relationship. Any warmth that did exist between them in their late teens and early twenties quickly evaporated when Anne failed to produce an heir. (You had one job, Anne!) She suffered a series of stillbirths that Louis (like other kings) blamed on her.
One of the great Peter Paul Rubens' portraits of Anne. She was known for her beautiful hands.
Another portrait of Anne by Rubens

The situation only got worse for Anne when the infamous Cardinal Richelieu became Louis XIII’s first minister. Richelieu, the inveterate baddy of The Three Musketeers is considered by some to be a genius of government, and in particular of foreign policy. His main foreign policy concern during the 20 years that he was Louis XVIII’s chief advisor (1624-1642) was containing Hapsburg ambitions from Spain and Austria – a position that put Anne and Richelieu at odds with each other, since Anne was a Hapsburg who maintained a close relationship and correspondence with her brother, King Philip IV of Spain. The fact that Anne and Louis remained childless for most of Richelieu’s tenure probably did nothing to help her estimation in his proto-realpolitik vision for France.
So, Anne did what any bored, marginalized, childless queen would do: got involved in court intrigues. She was close with Marie de Rohan alias Madam Chevreuse who was at the center of numerous plots and scandals, and Anne may have collaborated with her mother-in-law, Marie de’Medici to get Louis XIII to dump Richelieu. The Cardinal had cut off both women from accessing the king, not wanting to them to influence him. For a moment, the women thought they had succeeded in getting rid of Richelieu and this scandal is sometimes called the Day of Dupes – Spoiler: Louis kept Richelieu until the Cardinal’s death.
In 1635, Spain and France went to war – for reasons – and because of Anne’s correspondence with her brother, she was suspected of treason and espionage, which was fair, since she was probably giving her brother military secrets. She was not executed, but was interrogated and virtually kept under house arrest within the palace, and seldom saw the king.

Despite the rare opportunities for conjugal visitations, at the age of 37, Anne finally gave birth to her first living child: a son, the eventually Louis XIV of France. And although the dauphin thrived and she gave birth to another son when she was almost 40, she and her husband were never close again.
I cannot, of course, speak for Anne’s happiness, but things seem to have improved for her after Louis XIII’s death in 1643. King Louis XIV was 5 years old.
Like many royal women of history, Anne far outlived her husband, and her only avenue to real power was through acting as regent over her young son. Traditionally in France, if the king was a minor, his mother would act as sole regent – as had been the case when Louis XIII’s mother had been his regent. Louis had not wanted Anne to be Louis XIV’s regent and instead in his will he appointed a council to be his son’s regent – making Anne the head of the council as a sort of consolation prize.
Anne tidily had that annulled after Louis’ death.
Unlike his father, Louis XIV had quite a close and loving relationship with his mother, sharing many passions and hobbies. Louis XIV – the Sun King – is famous in history for the creation of a powerful absolute monarchy in France – but he probably couldn’t have done it without his Mummy Dearest.
Anne’s main advisor during this period was Cardinal Mazarin, who, with Anne’s blessing, chose to continue Richelieu’s anti-Hapsburg policy, seeing this as the most beneficial course of action for the young Sun King. She also showed a willingness to bury the hatchet, keeping on ministers who had persecuted her during the war with Spain in a “we are all French now” kind of gesture.
During Louis’ minority, Anne:
·      Pursued a policy of unity among the Catholic countries of Europe
·      Helped end the Thirty Years War
·      Continued Richelieu’s policy of taking away the power of France’s nobility and giving more power to the king
·      Put down a revolt of nobles called The Fronde


·      Arranged a marriage between Louis and his Spanish cousin Marie Theresa even though he had a major crush on Cardinal Mazarin’s niece
Anne in retirement

Her regency officially ended in 1651 when Louis “came of age” (I can’t be the only person who thinks that an 18-year-old boy shouldn’t have supreme executive power). However, Anne maintained influence at court for another ten years. From what I can tell, she and Louis XIV did not experience the typical souring of relations that tends to occur between teenage kings and their regent mothers. Anne then retired to a convent and died of breast cancer in 1666.  

Sources:
I did not do super sophisticated research this time around. Writing this blog post helped me get through waiting for election results. I did the best I could.
Wikipedia:
            Anne of Austria
            Louis XIV of France – notably, there is much more of an explanation of Anne’s role in the regency on Louis’ page than there is on Anne’s
            Marie de Medici
            Marie de Rohan
            Phillip III of Spain
            Louis XIII of France
            Henry IV of France