Such is the legend of the fall of the empress. All we know for certain is that about this time a marked discord between husband and wife was apparent, and that Paulinus, the emperor's boyhood friend and most trusted confidant, was put to death by imperial order during the year 440.

History seems ent.i.tled to draw the conclusion that it was probably a charge, whether true or false, of a criminal attachment between Eudocia and Paulinus that led to the disgrace of the empress and the execution of the minister; but the probabilities are all in favor of the innocence of the Augusta. Eudocia had pa.s.sed the age of forty when the breach with her husband occurred, and Paulinus was an official of mature years. The conduct of both had always been above reproach, and it was almost inconceivable that either would have acted unbecomingly at this late date.

For two or three years after the execution of Paulinus the empress remained at court, under what circ.u.mstances and in just what relation to the emperor we are not informed. It is evident, however, that her power was gone. Feeling herself more and more relegated to the background, and ever watched by hostile eyes, it was natural that she should find life at Constantinople unbearable, and should long for a place where, far from the turmoils and intrigues of the world, she might devote herself to retirement and to pious practices. She therefore asked permission of the emperor to be allowed to retire to Jerusalem and there pa.s.s the rest of her life. After the tender bond of love which had for twenty years united the Athenian maiden and the royal prince had once been violently broken, there was no reason why her pet.i.tion should be denied, and Eudocia was granted the privilege of retiring to the sacred scenes whose solitude and religious atmosphere had already appealed to her.

So, some years after her first visit to the holy city, Eudocia withdrew thither for a permanent abode. But what a contrast had a few years wrought! With what different emotions did she now visit the sacred shrines! Then a beloved wife, a happy mother, an all-puissant empress!

Now a voluntary exile, a discredited wife, an empress but in name!

Theodosius left her her royal honors and abundant means for her station, so that she could not only have a moderate establishment at Jerusalem, but could also adorn the city with charitable inst.i.tutions. Yet even here the hatred of her enemies and the jealousy of the emperor followed her. Though so far from Constantinople, court spies watched and reported her every movement, and in their malignity they recounted to the emperor such a slanderous picture of her life and doings that he, in the year 444, with newly awakened jealousy, had two holy men--the presbyter Severus and the deacon John, who had been favorites of Eudocia in Constantinople and had followed her to Jerusalem--executed by the order of Saturninus, her chamberlain. This cruel deed, however, did not remain unavenged, for Eudocia did not interfere when Saturninus, in a monkish riot, or at the hands of hired murderers, lost his life. Theodosius punished her for this with undue severity, by removing all the officers who attended her and reducing her to private station.

The remainder of the life of Eudocia, sixteen long years, was spent in retirement and in holy exercises. Troubles heaped themselves upon her.

Her only daughter, whose future at her marriage with Valentinian had looked so promising, also lost her royal station and was led a captive from Rome to Carthage. She had to endure all the insults which could fall to one who from supreme power had been reduced to private station.

But in the consolation of religion and in self-sacrificing devotion to others more unfortunate, Eudocia found solace in her grief. Finally, in the sixty-seventh year of her age, after experiencing all the vicissitudes of human life, the philosopher's daughter expired at Jerusalem, protesting with her dying breath her faithfulness to her marriage vows and expressing forgiveness of all those who had injured her.

In Constantinople, Eudocia's fall and exile had brought Pulcheria and the orthodox party again to the front. The poetry-loving Cyrus, the head of the Greek party, was deprived of his office and compelled to take orders; and there was a return to the austerity which had characterized the earlier years of Pulcheria's supremacy. Pulcheria and orthodoxy from this time on controlled the court life and dominated the Empire.

Finally, in 450, Theodosius was fatally wounded while hunting, and upon his demise Pulcheria was unanimously proclaimed Empress of the East. Her first official act was one of popular justice as well as private revenge--the execution of the crafty and rapacious eunuch, Chrysaphius.

In obedience to the murmur of the people, who objected to a woman being sole ruler of the Empire, she selected an imperial consort in Marcian, an aged senator who would respect the virginal vows and superior rank of his wife. He was solemnly invested with the imperial purple, and proved in every way equal to the demands of his exalted station.

Three years later, Pulcheria pa.s.sed away. Because of her austerity of life, her deeds of charity, her advocacy of orthodoxy, she won the eulogies of the Church; but her controlling attribute had been a love of power, which had wrought much evil. Our sympathies are naturally with the beautiful and gifted Athenais, a Greek by birth, by temperament and by culture, but yet a Christian in religious fervor and pious practices, whose personal fascination had given her the authority she richly merited, until the stronger nature of Pulcheria, by despicable means, had wrought her downfall.

For four years after the death of Pulcheria, Marcian continued to hold supreme power; finally, in 457, he too came to his end, and with Marcian the house of Theodosius the Great ceased to reign in new Rome.

XI

THE EMPRESS THEODORA

There are few stranger episodes in literary history than the fate of Theodora, the celebrated consort of the Emperor Justinian. To us in this day she is a Magdalene elevated to the throne of the Caesars, a beautiful and licentious actress suddenly raised by a freak of fortune to rule the destinies of the Roman Empire. All this is due to the remarkable discovery made by Nicholas Alemannus, librarian of the Vatican, toward the end of the seventeenth century, of the Secret History of Procopius, a work which purported to reveal the private life of the Byzantine court in the days of Justinian. Before the publication of this work Theodora was in public opinion chiefly remarkable for the prominent place she occupied in Justinian's reign. Of her early life nothing was known, but from the date of her accession to the throne she had exercised a sovereign influence over the emperor. In an important crisis she had exhibited admirable firmness and courage. She had taken an active part in the court intrigues and religious controversies of the epoch, and to her sagacity the emperor attributed many of his happiest inspirations in legislation. The ecclesiastical historians accused her of serious lapses into heresy and of having laid violent hands on the sacred person of a pope; but, with all their vituperation, there never was in circulation a calumny affecting her personal character. Such is a brief resume of the history of Theodora as handed down una.s.sailed for a thousand years.

Then suddenly a startling revelation was made to the world concerning the previously unknown period of Theodora's life. Alemannus disinterred from the archives of the Vatican library, where it had long lain forgotten, an Arcana Historia which purported to be from the pen of the celebrated historian of the Wars and the Edifices of Justinian. Edited with a learned commentary by a hostile critic, the work immediately attained wide circulation and universal credence. For the first time the character of the ill.u.s.trious empress was presented in the blackest colors. The world, it seemed, had been really mistaken in its estimate.

Theodora's antecedents and early life had been of the vilest character, and her public life signalized by cruelty, avarice, and excess. From the date of the publication of this _chronique scandaleuse_, and thanks to Gibbon's trenchant paraphrase of its vilest sections, Theodora was condemned. Her name became the connotation for all the depraved vices known in high life. The silence of eleven centuries was overlooked, and the garish picture of the Secret History has formed the modern world's estimate of Rome's most ill.u.s.trious empress.

It becomes, therefore, an important problem to attempt to distinguish the Theodora of history from the Theodora of romance. We must inquire whether the startling "anecdotes" of the _Secret History_ justly supersede the estimate and tradition of so long a period. Was Theodora the grand courtesan she is represented to be in the modern drama, or was she a great empress, worthy of the respect and admiration of Justinian and of succeeding ages? To answer these questions we must first briefly review the legendary history of Theodora, and then dwell more at length on the authentic history of the empress. This will merit a recital, for she appears to be a personality singularly original and powerful, possessing both the qualities of a statesman and the unique traits of a woman, a character of much complexity and of rare psychological interest. During the first years of the sixth century there lived in Constantinople a poor man, by name Acacius, a native of the isle of Cyprus, who had the care of the wild beasts maintained by the green faction of the city, and who, from his employment, was ent.i.tled the Master of the Bears. This Acacius was the father of Theodora. Upon his death, he left to the tender mercies of the world a widow and three helpless orphans, Comito, Theodora, and Anastasia, the eldest being not yet seven years of age. At a solemn festival these three children were sent by their dest.i.tute mother into the theatre, dressed in the garb of suppliants. The green faction scorned them; but the blues had compa.s.sion and relieved their distress, and this difference of treatment made a profound impression on the child Theodora, which had its influence on her later conduct. As the maidens increased in age and improved in beauty, they were trained by their mother for a theatrical career.

Theodora first followed Comito on the stage, playing the role of chambermaid, but at length she exercised her talents independently. She became neither a singer nor a dancer nor a flute player, but she figured in the _tableaux Vivants_, where her beauty freely displayed itself, and in the pantomimes, where her vivacity and grace and sprightliness caused the whole theatre to resound with laughter and applause. She was, if the panegyrists may be believed, the most beautiful woman of her age.

Procopius, the best historian of the day, says that "it was impossible for mere man to describe her comeliness in words or to imitate it in art." "Her features were delicate and regular; her complexion, though somewhat pale, was tinged with a natural colour; every sensation was instantly expressed by the vivacity of her eyes; her easy motions displayed the graces of a small but elegant figure; and either love or adulation might proclaim that painting and poetry were incapable of delineating the matchless excellence of her form." It is unfortunate that we have no likeness which portrays her exquisite beauty. The famous mosaic in San Vitale at Ravenna is the best authentic representation of the empress, but a mosaic can give but little idea of the original.

But Theodora possessed other fascinations besides beauty: she was intelligent, full of _esprit_, witty. However, with all these gifts there was in her a deficiency of the moral sense and a natural inclination to pleasure in all its forms. Sad to relate, her charms were venal. If the Secret History be believed, her adventures were both numerous and scandalous; to quote a piquant expression of Gibbon, "her charity was universal." Procopius recounts memorable after-theatre suppers and _tableaux vivants_ that would be excluded from the most licentious of modern stages. After a wild career in the capital as the reigning figure of the demi-monde, Theodora suddenly disappeared. She condescended to accompany to his province a certain Ecebolus, who had been appointed governor of the African Pentapolis. But this union was transient. She either abandoned her lover or was deserted by him, and for some time the fair Cyprian, a veritable priestess of the divine Aphrodite, made conquests innumerable in all the great cities of the Orient. Finally, she returned to Constantinople, to the scenes of her first exploits, being then between twenty and twenty-five years of age.

In her bitterest humiliation, some vision had whispered to her that she was destined to a great career.

Wearied of amorous adventures and of a wandering career, she began from this moment to adopt a retired and blameless life in a modest mansion, where she relieved her poverty by the feminine task of spinning wool. It was at this moment that happy chance threw the patrician Justinian in her path. Captivated by her beauty and her feminine graces, this staid, business-like, and eminently practical personage, already marked as his uncle Justin's successor to the Empire, wished to make the fair Theodora his wife. But there were obstacles in the way. The Empress Euphemia flatly refused to accept the reformed courtesan as a niece; Justinian's own mother, Vigilantia, feared that the vivacious and beautiful worldling would corrupt her son. It was even said that at this time the laws of Rome prohibited the marriage of a senator with a woman of servile origin or of the theatrical profession. But Justinian remained inflexible. The Empress Euphemia conveniently died; Justinian overrode the opposition of his mother; and Justin was persuaded to pa.s.s a law abolishing the rigid statute of antiquity and to make Theodora a patrician.

Soon followed the solemn nuptials of Justinian and Theodora; and when, in 527, Justinian was officially a.s.sociated with his uncle on the throne, Theodora was also solemnly crowned in Saint Sophia by the hands of the Patriarch as an equal and independent colleague in the sovereignty of the Empire, and the oath of allegiance was imposed on bishops and officials in the joint names of Justinian and Theodora; while in the Hippodrome, the scene of her earlier triumphs, the daughter of Acacius received as empress the adulation of the populace.

Such, according to the Secret History, is the romance of Theodora. The reason why it has been given general credence is because the work purported to be that of a contemporary writer, the greatest historian of his age, who has weighted his charges with emphasis and detail, and because the recital received the convincing endors.e.m.e.nt of Alemannus and of Gibbon. The principle which governed Gibbon was as follows: "Of these strange anecdotes a part may be true because probable, and a part true because improbable. Procopius must have known the former and the latter he could scarcely invent." Rea.s.sured by this argument, and seduced by the masculine taste for adventure, most historians have complacently accepted this piquant history and have applied to Theodora the vilest epithets. But recent writers, especially Debidour, Ranke, Mallet, Bury, and Diehl, have not regarded the case as proved, and through a careful a.n.a.lysis of the _Secret History_ have presented convincing arguments against the reputed authorship of the work and the authenticity of its narrative.

These later writers have called attention to the internal evidence of the improbability of the picture of Theodora. There are in the statements glaring inconsistencies with the other works of Procopius, and inconsistencies within the anecdotes themselves. Many stories told of Justinian are obviously overdrawn and dictated by inventive malice, and these vitiate the entire narrative. Furthermore, the question of the marriage law is triumphantly set aside. The edict abolishing the Old Roman law was pa.s.sed seven years after Justinian's succession, and was in accordance with other legislation inspired by Theodora, to ameliorate the condition of woman. The external evidence, also, has been carefully sifted. The legal maxim, _Testis unus, Testis nullus_, applies in history as well as in law. A single witness has related the most incredible stories. Nowhere in other historians is there a shred of evidence to support the story of Theodora's flagitious life. These stories could have no basis other than in popular rumors; how is it, therefore, that no other chronicle alludes to them? Orthodox ecclesiastics violently attack Theodora's heresy, and speak of her as an enemy of the Church, but write not a word against her private reputation. Historians condemn in unmeasured terms certain features of Justinian's administration, and dwell on other faults of Theodora, but say never a word about her profligacy. Why are all other writers silent about the dark pa.s.sages in Theodora's history? Even the _Secret History_ alleges nothing immoral against her after her marriage: why then should we take its testimony seriously regarding the earlier period of her life? The silence of all other chronicles about extraordinary occurrences, which, if true, must have been generally known, throws doubt over the whole narrative and places it in the light of an infamous libel.

And here is a final argument. Justinian was no mere youth when he married, but a sober gentleman of thirty-five, the heir apparent to the throne, who had to keep in the good graces of the people. Would he at so momentous a time have perpetrated so infamous a scandal? And would it have been possible for a woman of such notorious profligacy to ascend the throne without a protest from patriarch or bishop or senators or populace? The outward life of the Byzantine people, owing to the influence of Christianity, was usually correct. A little later an emperor lost his throne because he divorced one wife and took another.

Theodora's triumphant ascent to the throne, without a protesting voice, is conclusive evidence that no great scandal had sullied her reputation.

Yet, on the other hand, panegyrists never lauded Theodora as a saint.

She was neither a Pulcheria nor a Eudocia. Many traits in the character of the empress accord well with the fact that her early life was not pa.s.sed amid beds of roses nor had been altogether free from temptation.

Hence, with the story reduced to its lowest terms, it seems probable that Theodora was of obscure and lowly origin, that she was for a time connected in some way with the Byzantine stage, and that, owing to her beauty, her cleverness, and her strong personality, she was raised from poverty to share Justinian's throne. But, whatever her career, her life had been sufficiently upright to save appearances, and Justinian could make her his wife without scandal.

The turn of fortune which elevated Theodora from modest station to the imperial throne deeply stirred the popular imagination, and a cycle of legends has gathered about her name. The stranger in Byzantium in the eleventh century was shown the site of a modest cottage, transformed into a stately church dedicated to the spirit of charity, and was told the story how the great empress, coming with her parents from their native town in Cyprus, had here maintained herself in honorable poverty by spinning wool, and how it was here that the patrician Justinian, drawn thither by the fame of her beauty and her learning, had wooed and won her for his bride. However little value we may attach to this tradition, it shows that in Constantinople the popular estimate of Theodora was not that of the _Secret History_. The Slavic traditions of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries not only dwell on her marvellous beauty, but also recount that she was the most queenly, the most cultivated, the most learned of women. The Syriac traditions were still more flattering. In their devout reverence for the pious empress who espoused their cause, these Monophysites of the thirteenth century name as the father of Theodora, not the poor man who guarded the bears in the Hippodrome, but a pious old gentleman, perhaps a senator, attached to the Monophysite heresy, and affirm that when Justinian, fascinated by the beauty and intelligence of the young maiden, demanded her hand in marriage, the good father did not consent that she should marry the heir apparent until the latter had promised not to interfere with her religious beliefs.

A western chronicler, however, of the eleventh century, Aimoin de Fleury, recounts a legend which has something of the flavor of the _Secret History_. According to this story, Justinian and Belisarius, two young men and intimate friends, encountered one day two sisters, Antonia and Antonina, sprung from the race of Amazons, who, taken prisoners by the Byzantines, were reduced to dire straits. Belisarius was enamored of the latter, Justinian of the former. Antonia, presaging the future destiny of her lover, made him promise that, if ever he became emperor, he would take her as his wife. Their relations were interrupted, but not before Justinian gave to Antonia a ring, as an a.s.surance of his promise.

Years pa.s.sed: the prince became emperor; and one day there appeared at the gate of the palace, demanding audience, a woman in rich attire and of wonderful beauty. Presented before the sovereign, Antonia was not at first recognized; but she showed the ring and recalled his promise, and Justinian, his love for her renewed, proclaimed straightway the beautiful Amazon as his empress. The people and the senate expressed some surprise at the impromptu marriage, but Antonia shared without protest the throne of Justinian.

Thus the marvellous destiny of Theodora was embellished by legend and romance, and, whether good or bad, severely correct or profligate, she has become one of the most remarkable figures of history and fiction.

Questions as to the early life of Theodora, however, are secondary in importance. We are interested not in the courtesan but in the empress, and, for the incidents and the influence of her reign, we have fortunately other information than that of the _Secret History_.

Sardou's drama Theodora represents its heroine as preserving on the throne the manners of the courtesan, as delighting in the life of the theatre, as leaving the palace by night to frequent the streets of Constantinople, as having an amorous intrigue with the beautiful Andreas, as being in fact another, but baser and more voluptuous, Messalina. But even the _Secret History_ represents Theodora, after she mounted the throne, as being, with all her faults, the most austere, the most correct, the most irreproachable of women in her conjugal relations.

Whatever her origin and her early life, Theodora adapted herself most readily to the status and the duties of an imperial sovereign. She loved and partook fully of the amenities which attended supreme authority. In her apartments of the royal palace, and in her sumptuous villas and gardens on the Propontis and the Bosporus, she availed herself of all the luxuries and refinements of the royal station. Ever womanly and vain of her physical charms, she took extreme care of her beauty. To make her countenance reposeful and delicate, she prolonged her slumbers until late in the morning; to give her figure sprightliness and grace, she took frequent baths, to which succeeded long hours of repose. Not content with the meagre fare which satisfied Justinian, her table was always supplied with the best of Oriental dishes, which were served with exquisite and delicate taste. Every wish was immediately gratified by her favorite ladies and eunuchs. Like a true parvenue, she delighted in the elaborate court etiquette. She made the highest dignitaries prostrate themselves before her, imposing on those who wished audience long and humiliating delays. Every morning one could see the most ill.u.s.trious personages of Byzantium crowded in her antechamber like a troop of slaves, and, when they were admitted to kiss the feet of Theodora, their reception depended altogether upon the humor of the moment. These details show with what facility, with what complaisance, Theodora adapted herself to the conditions of her rank.

One must not infer, however, that the Theodora of history was a woman merely captivated by the outward pomp of royalty. She possessed all the intellectual and moral gifts which should attend absolute power, and her rigid enforcement of Oriental etiquette was merely to impress upon others her supreme authority, and was in conformity to the demand of her age. Her salient characteristics were a spirit despotic and inflexible, a will strong and pa.s.sionate, an intelligence clever and subtle, a temperament by turns frigid and sympathetic; and by these gifts she dominated Justinian without intermission from the moment of her marriage to her death, and impressed upon all those about her the knowledge that she was in every sense an absolute sovereign.

Furthermore, she possessed a calm courage, a masculine inflexibility, which showed itself in the most difficult circ.u.mstances. One can never forget the most ominous moment in the history of the Eastern Empire, when the courage and firmness of Theodora saved the throne of Justinian.

This was during the celebrated revolt of 532, known as "The Nika Riot."

The factions of the "Blues" and the "Greens" were really the political parties of the day; irritated to madness by the oppression of certain officials, they momentarily united their forces and raised an insurrection against the government, choosing Nika (Conquer!) as their watchword, which has become the technical designation of the riot.

During five days, the city was a scene of conflict and witnessed all the horrors of street warfare. Justinian yielded so far as to depose the obnoxious officials, but the secret machinations of the "Green" faction, who wished to place on the throne a nephew of Anastasius, a former emperor, kept up the conflict. On the fateful morning of the 19th of January, Hypatius, one of the nephews of Anastasius, was publicly crowned in the Forum of Constantinople, and was then seated in the cathisma of the Hippodrome, where the rebels and the populace saluted him as emperor. Meanwhile, Justinian shut himself up in the palace with his ministers and his favorites. Much of the city was in flames, the tumult outside grew ever louder, and the rebels were preparing for an attack on the palace. All seemed lost. The clamor of victory and the cries of "Death to Justinian," reached the hall where the emperor, utterly unnerved, was taking counsel of his ministers and generals. The prefect John of Cappadocia and the general Belisarius recommended flight to Heraclea. In haste, by the gardens which led to the sea, vessels were loaded with the imperial treasures, and all was ready for the instant flight of the emperor and empress. This was the decisive moment. Flight meant the safety of their persons, but the abandoned throne was surely lost, and the gigantic movements that had been started would collapse.

The prince was hesitating, and all his counsellors shared his feebleness. Up to this time, the empress had said nothing. At length, indignant at the general languor, Theodora thus called to their duty the emperor and the ministers who would forsake all for personal safety:

"The present occasion is, I think, too grave to take regard of the principle that it is not meet for a woman to speak among men. Those whose dearest interests are in the presence of extreme danger are justified in thinking only of the wisest course of action. Now, in my opinion, Nature is an unprofitable tutor, even if her guidance bring us safety. It is impossible for a man when he has come into the world not to die; but for one who has reigned it is intolerable to be an exile.

May I never exist without this purple robe, and may I never live to see the day on which those who meet me shall not address me as Queen. If you wish, O Emperor, to save yourself, there is no difficulty; we have ample funds. Yonder is the sea, and there are the ships. Yet reflect whether, when you have once escaped to a place of security, you will not prefer death to safety. I agree with an old saying that 'Empire is a fair winding-sheet.'"

By these courageous words the resolution of Theodora saved the throne of Justinian. Her firmness conquered the weakness and the pusillanimity of the court. Belisarius triumphantly led his forces against the revolutionists in the Hippodrome. A ruthless ma.s.sacre followed, in which thirty-five thousand persons perished. The power of the factions was forever broken, and henceforth Justinian enjoyed absolute sovereignty without a protest. The important public buildings which had been destroyed in the conflagrations incident to the riot were restored on a more magnificent scale, and the still standing Saint Sophia is a monument to the genius and splendor of the reign of Justinian and Theodora.

One can readily understand what a dominating influence such a woman would maintain over the indecisive Justinian. The pa.s.sion with which she had inspired the prince was preserved up to the last moment of her life; and his devotion and regard ever increased and after her death took the form of reverential awe, so influenced was he by her superior abilities.

She was to him, in the words of a contemporary historian, "the sweetest charm"; or, as he himself says in a legal enactment, "the gift of G.o.d"--a play upon her name. After her death, when he would make a solemn promise, he swore by the name of Theodora. He withheld from her none of the emoluments, none of the realities, of joint and equal sovereignty: her name figured with his in the inscriptions placed upon the facades of churches or the gates of citadels; her image was a.s.sociated with his in the decorations of the royal palace, as in the mosaics of San Vitale.

Her name appeared by the side of his on the imperial seal. A mult.i.tude of cities and a newly created province bore her name. In every regard she shared the sovereignty with the emperor. Magistrates, bishops, generals, governors of provinces, swore by all that was sacred to render good and true service to the very pious and sacred sovereigns, Justinian and Theodora.

When Theodora journeyed, a royal cortege accompanied her, consisting of patricians, high dignitaries, and ministers, and an escort of four thousand soldiers as guard. Her orders were received with deference throughout the Empire; and when officials found them in contradiction with those of the emperor, they often preferred the instructions of Theodora to those of Justinian. Functionaries knew that her patronage a.s.sured a rapid promotion in royal power and that her good will was a guarantee against possible disgrace. Royal strangers sought to flatter her vanity and to win her good graces.

All the chroniclers record that in state papers on important affairs Theodora was the collaborator with Justinian. The emperor gladly acknowledged his indebtedness to her, and we read in one of his ordinances: "Having this time again taken counsel of the most sacred spouse whom G.o.d has given us...." Theodora likewise on occasion gave evidence of her authority. She once ordered Theodatus to submit to her the requests he wished to address to the emperor, and in a communication to the ministers of the Persian king, Chosroes, she stated: "The emperor never decides anything without consulting me." She was the regulating power in both State and Church, appointing or disgracing generals and ministers, making or unmaking patriarchs and pontiffs, raising to fortune her favorites, and unsettling the power and position of her opponents.

Theodora's comprehension of the necessities of imperial politics was something marvellous, and the wise moves of Justinian were due largely to her counsel. Yet, though so superb a queen, she was all the more a woman-fickle, pa.s.sionate, avaricious of authority, and intensely jealous of preserving the power she had. Apparently without scruples, she would get rid of all influence which threatened to counterbalance her own, and she brushed aside without pity all opposition which seemed to infringe on her authority. In the intrigues of the palace she ever came off the victor. Vainly did favorites and ministers who fancied themselves indispensable attempt to ruin her credit with the emperor. The secretary Priscus, whom the favor of Justinian had raised to office as count of the bed-chamber, paid dearly for the insults which he addressed to Theodora. He was exiled, imprisoned, and finally driven to take orders, and his enormous fortune was confiscated.

The history of John of Cappadocia is more significant still; at the same time that it gives insight into the intrigues and plots of the Byzantine courts, it throws a glowing light on the ambitious nature, the unscrupulous energy, the vindictive spirit, and the perfidious cleverness of the Empress Theodora.

For six years John of Cappadocia occupied the exalted position of praetorian prefect, which made him at the same time minister of finance and minister of the interior, as well as the first minister of the Empire. By his vices, his harshness, and his corruption he justified the proverb:

"The Cappadocian is bad by nature; if he attains to power he is worse; but if he seeks to be supreme, he is the most detestable of all." But in the eyes of Justinian he had one redeeming virtue: he furnished to every request of the prince the funds which the vast expenditures of his reign demanded. At the price of what exactions, of what sufferings of his subjects, he obtained these admirable results, the emperor did not inquire, or perhaps he ignored these considerations. At all events, the prefect was a great favorite of the prince, and the court aides envied the success of his administration. Having a dominating influence over the emperor, possessing riches beyond the dreams of avarice, John attained to the very apex of fortune. Superst.i.tious by nature, the promises of wizards had aroused in him the hope of attaining to the supreme power, as the colleague or successor of Justinian. As a step toward this he attempted to ruin the credit of Theodora with the emperor. This was an offence which the haughty empress could not pardon.

The prefect was not ignorant how powerful an adversary he had aroused; but, conscious of his influence with the emperor and of the state of the finances which he alone could administer, he regarded himself as indispensable. But he did not correctly gauge the subtlety of Theodora.

She first endeavored to convince the emperor of the sufferings which the prefect inflicted on his subjects and then to arouse his suspicions as to the dangers with which the throne was menaced by the ambition of John: but the emperor, like all feeble natures, hesitated to separate from himself a counsellor to whom by long habit and a.s.sociation he had become attached. Then Theodora conceived a Machiavelian plot.