Download PDF | (Oxford studies in Byzantium) Tim Greenwood - The Universal History of Stepʻanos Tarōnecʻi_ Introduction, Translation, and Commentary-Oxford University Press 2017.
375 Pages
Preface
The Universal History of Step‘anos Taronec‘i (Stephen of Taron) offers an Armenian perspective on the history of the world, in three books, from the seventy-fifth year of Abraham to the turn of the first millennium. It was completed in the year 1004/5 cz, in an era when the Byzantine Empire was expanding eastwards and seizing control by various means of the districts of western and central Armenia.
Eager to describe and analyse the processes of political, social, and cultural change which accompanied this expansion, historians have turned to book I[I—the longest of the three, focused predominantly on the second half of the tenth century—and have come away disappointed. Although it records the Byzantine expansion, it does so through a series of terse entries which do not offer further comment or response. Notices recording the interactions of local Armenian, Georgian, Muslim, and Kurdish elites are scarcely more forthcoming. Instead book III is dominated by a long theological letter addressed to the metropolitan of Sebasteia defending the Armenian confession of faith and highlighting failings in the current practices of the Imperial Church.
Although scholars of medieval Armenia, Byzantium, and the Caucasus have exploited the Universal History as a contemporary composition, invariably they have turned to other sources in order to supplement its brief narrative.
This study of the author and his work takes a very different approach. It treats the whole composition as a reflection of the historical context within which Step‘anos was working, arguing that his decision to compose a world history was not accidental. Step‘anos fused Armenian tradition with Roman, Persian, and Islamic history for a purpose, allowing him to demonstrate that Armenia had an ancient origin and long-standing ties with these other powers, ties which were rooted in place, time, and circumstance.
This recourse to the past was designed to shape and reinforce what it meant to be Armenian in the present, at a time when it was coming under sustained pressure. Furthermore although the contents of books I and II are derivative, lifted from known works for the most part, the extracts chosen by Step‘anos and, more particularly, the revisions made by him, reveal a clear antipathy to Byzantium. This permits a more nuanced interpretation of book III, with the theological letter now central to the whole, operating as a defiant response to the Imperial Church as well as an assertion of Armenian parity with, and independence from, Byzantine intellectual and religious culture.
Yet the Universal History comprises much more than a critique of Byzantium. Although it might seem counter-intuitive, this study proposes that Step‘anos turned to a Byzantine historical composition structured around the imperial sequence as the chronological spine for book III. Several details about the Byzantine past preserved by Step‘anos are unique. From an Armenian perspective, alongside the sequences of kings, princes, and clerical leaders, books II and III record prominent monastic communities and scholars.
Their inclusion may be connected to Step‘anos’ own responsibilities within the Armenian Church, but his decision to afford them such prominence may also be related to his conception of Armenian identity, constructing it in terms of cultural memory and tradition as well as historic political and territorial expression.
His visits to these monastic communities may also account for much, if not all, of the local information which finds its way into book III, including reflections on Buyid hegemony and the actions and interactions of local Sallarid, Rawwadid, and Marwanid amirs. Intriguingly, his knowledge and experience of monastic communities did not extend south into the Arcruni kingdom of Vaspurakan, nor east and south-east into the districts of Siwnik’, and it is striking that book III offers little on the affairs of these parts of historic Armenia.
The Universal History of Step‘anos Taronec'i emerges as a sophisticated composition, assembled at a time when traditional markers of Armenian identity were being transformed through sustained engagement with a resurgent Byzantium. It represents one scholarly response to these changing circumstances, advancing a vision of world history which included, and thereby validated, Armenian tradition.
As such, it reminds us that medieval histories are more than merely records of what happened. Every composition reflects the contexts in which it was composed and the responses of its author. The Universal History introduces us to the mind and the world of Step‘anos Taroneci.
Acknowledgements
Just as Step‘anos combined absolute and relative chronologies within his Universal History to measure the course of world history, so the duration of this research project can be reckoned in different ways. From an institutional point of view, it was begun during the period of a postdoctoral research fellowship held in the Oriental Institute at the University of Oxford and completed in the tenth year after my appointment to a lectureship at the University of St Andrews. From an annular perspective, some initial thoughts on the text and its author were presented at the Ninth General Conference of the Association Internationale des Etudes Arméniennes in Wirzburg on 10 October 2002; and the full draft was sent to the Editorial Board of Oxford Studies in Byzantium on 7 September 2015.
Or to reflect from a personal viewpoint, our daughter Eleanor was a 1-year old toddler when I began this study and embarking on her preparation for public GSCE examinations when I finished. Whichever calibration one prefers, there is no avoiding the fact that this project has taken a very long time indeed.
I should like to extend my sincere thanks to the Faculty of the Oriental Institute in Oxford for the award of a postdoctoral fellowship, during which the initial research was conducted, and to my colleagues in the School of History at the University of St Andrews, for the award of a semester of research leave in 2014/15, during which the study was completed.
I am indebted to a large number of colleagues and friends for their encouragement, wise counsel, and assistance, including Ali Ansari, Juan Signes Codoner, Catherine Holmes, James Howard-Johnston, Hugh Kennedy, Dimitri Kastritsis, Simon MacLean, Ruth Macrides, Paul Magdalino, Andrew Marsham, Karen Mat‘evosyan, Paruyr Muradyan, Andrew Peacock, Ioanna Rapti, Chase Robinson, Angus Stewart, Luke Treadwell, Robert Thomson, Theo van Lint, Edda Vardanyan, Mary Whitby, and Mark Whittow. I should like to acknowledge the contributions of James Mercer and Charlie Fidler in supplying the image for the front cover, and Emma Dove, who prepared the maps. I should also like to express particular thanks to a succession of final-year undergraduate classes at the University of St Andrews who encountered and responded to extracts from book III in their study of tenth-century Byzantium. To the early cohorts who were presented with substantial unannotated blocks of text for analysis, I can only apologize.
Between 2003 and 2007, a series of different papers on aspects of the structure and contents of the Universal History were presented at research seminars in Oxford, Birmingham, Queen’s Belfast, and Columbia, New York, and I am grateful for the thoughtful questions and comments on these occasions. There followed a long period of silence on my part in respect of the text, which was not planned but which proved to be necessary for the completion of the project. In the first place, I realized that I needed to analyse in greater detail several of the texts exploited by Step‘anos in the compilation of the Universal History before considering his use of them. This generated separate published studies on the Anonymous Chronicle, the History of Lewond, and the Autobiography and Mathematical Problems of Anania Sirakaci.
Furthermore, I came to appreciate that in order to establish the historiographical and literary context in which Step‘anos was active, I would need to assess four little-studied tenth-century compositions: the continuations of T’ovma Arcruni’s History; the History of the Anonymous Story-Teller, better known for its misidentification as the lost History of Sapuh Bagratuni; the History of Taron, whose two parts are attributed to Zenob Glak and Yovhannés Mamikonean; and the History of Bishop Uxtanés of Sebasteia. Again, this research produced several articles for publication, some of which are still in press. The major consequence of this contextual research was to delay the completion of this project by several years. I therefore owe a particular debt of gratitude to the Editorial Board of Oxford Studies in Byzantium for their extraordinary patience and gentle encouragement over the intervening years. I suspect that the Board must have doubted whether this project would ever see the light of day, and I thank them for their confidence that it would do so eventually.
One major advantage of the delay in publication is that I have been able to consult, with great profit, the new edition of the text by Gurgén Manukyan, published in 2012, together with his insightful introduction. I had been informed by Professor Paruyr Muradyan of this forthcoming work at the conference in Wiirzburg back in 2002 but had not expected to be able to incorporate its findings.
Any book is a work of collaboration and I thank everyone who has contributed, knowingly or otherwise. The unstinting support of my parents and my sister has meant more to me than I can express. It is, however, to my wife Gilly to whom this book is dedicated. Her constant encouragement and wise counsel over the last twenty years has kept me rooted in the real world, and the book would not have been finished without her.
At the end of the Universal History, Step‘anos appeals to his sponsor, the catholicos Sargis, and the rest of the church, entreating them to ignore his mistakes and liberties and blaming the daily travails of the church and his own duties within it for failing to arrange the work to his own satisfaction. I have always taken comfort in the apology that Step‘anos appears to be making for failing to finish his composition in a timely manner, citing the pressures of everyday work. Step‘anos also anticipates that his composition will attract both praise and criticism. Like Step‘anos, I take full responsibility for the ideas and the errors within this study, asking for patient understanding for the latter and trusting that both will prompt further research .
Introduction
THE WORLD OF STEPANOS TARONEC'I
Although we do not know exactly when Step‘anos Tar6nec‘i was born or when he died, he lived and wrote the three books of his Universal History—completed in 1004 or the first months of 1005 ce—in an era which was characterized by political turbulence and religious anxiety.’ For Armenian authors, this state of affairs was hardly new. The districts of historic Armenia, stretching from Cappadocia in the west to the lower reaches of the river Araxes in the east and from the upper Kur river in the north to Mesopotamia in the south, had been fought over and subjugated by rival states and regional polities for centuries. Earlier Armenian writers, however, had generally been able to construct their narratives around a simple dichotomy, between an impious external oppressor, usually Persian in origin, wishing to assert or reassert control, and an Armenian people, united in their Christian faith, refusing to submit, resisting bravely, and dying as martyrs on the battlefield or its aftermath. Even at the start of the tenth century, this model could still be deployed in historical compositions, although it is clear that it was already under strain.’ By the end of the tenth century, however, the political context was so transformed that a new approach to the past was needed. The demise of the “Abbasid caliphate meant that there was no substantial or sustained threat from a powerful non-Christian state in Mesopotamia. Indeed, as an indication of how far Armenian attitudes had shifted by the end of the tenth century, Step‘anos presents the most powerful of the Buyid rulers, “‘Adud al-Dawla, in very favourable terms, despite ‘Adud’s open appropriation of Sasanian political ideology.* Moreover, as Step‘anos himself reveals, contemporary Armenian rulers had no qualms about allying with local Muslim emirs. Admittedly, this restructuring of political relationships at a regional and local level across religious identities had started long before he was writing, although it is hard to trace before the end of the ninth century.* But the principal reason why the model was now obsolete was that the source of the greatest current threat to Armenian identity no longer lay with a Zoroastrian or Muslim power to the south or east; instead it lay with a resurgent Christian polity to the west, in the form of the Byzantine Empire. The world in which Step‘anos lived and worked, therefore, and the context in which he wrote his Universal History, was a world in transition, engaging with and being transformed by an expanding and assertive Christian empire. Through its form, content, and tone, the Universal History of Step‘anos Taronec‘i attests the response of one scholar to these changing circumstances.
THE LIFE AND CAREER OF STEP‘ANOS
Our knowledge of the life and career of Step‘anos Tar6nec’‘i is, for the most part, limited to what he reveals about himself in his Universal History. His name indicates that he originated from the region of Tar6n, located to the west of lake Van on the upper reaches of the river Aracani, the southern branch of the Euphrates. Although Step‘anos does not discuss his background openly in the text, there are isolated comments scattered throughout the work which collectively support the view that he did indeed come from Taron. He is the first author to associate the great historian and father of Armenian literature, Movsés Xorenac‘i, with the region of Taron, calling him Movsés Taronec’i, bishop of Bagrewand and Argarunik‘.” Whether or not this is correct is less significant than Step‘anos asserting it to be so in the penultimate sentence of book I, a prominent location. In the second chapter of book I], Step‘anos notes that Bugha—a Turkish commander sent into Armenia by the caliph al-Mutawwakil in 852—arrived in Tarn, seized three sons of Bagarat Bagratuni, and ‘massacred all the inhabitants of Xoyt’, on the mountain which is called Vasginak’.© Although much of this chapter is lifted from the History of Yovhannés Drasxanakertc‘i, this sentence is not from that work and the name of the mountain is unique to Step‘anos. It may, therefore, reflect a local tradition. And finally, in book III, chapter 14, Step‘anos records that when the Kurdish Marwanid Badh b. Dustuk sacked the city of Mus in the district of Taron in the late 970s, during the rebellion of Bardas Skleros, he massacred the priests in the church of Surb P*rki¢* (St Saviour’s). He comments that this was ‘a piteous sight’, a rare expression of emotion on his part.’ Step‘anos adds that ‘the stains of their blood are evident even now in the same church’, suggesting that he had himself visited the site. On the basis of this passage, it is tempting to posit that Step‘anos had a personal connection with Mué&, but this would almost certainly be to push the evidence too far. The most that can be said is that he visited Mus at some point during the writing of his Universal History, and that Badh’s attack left a deep impression on him. Nevertheless, there is no reason to doubt that Step‘anos did indeed come from the district of Taron.
Of his personal background nothing is known, although it seems unlikely that he was related to the princely family of Taron which barely features in the narrative and whose members were commonly named Grigor, ASot, or Bagrat but never Step‘anos.* We can be confident, however, that Step‘anos was brought up and educated in a monastic environment. In III.7, having provided details about those monasteries founded while Anania Mokac‘i was catholicos (941/2-963/4), their leaders and other noted members, as well as a list of famous hermits and vardapets, Step‘anos reveals that: ‘In our youth, we saw some of these in their old age with our own eyes, tasting the sweet delight of their words.” Evidently Step‘anos had seen and perhaps listened to some of these famous scholars, and the only place he could have done so would have been from within a monastic community. Frustratingly, he does not reveal the identity of those he had encountered as a young man, nor where or when he had done so. On the basis of this statement, Emin supposed that Step‘anos must have been born in around 928, because he would then have been around 15 years old when Anania became catholicos and the monasteries were founded.’ But as Malxaseanc‘ observed, this contention supposed that the monasteries were founded, and that Step‘anos encountered some of these monks, in the year of Anania’s accession.'! He maintained that his birth occurred long after 928, without offering a specific date, and this must be the case. Indeed, there is no reason why Step‘anos had to have been born during the lifetime of Anania, for, as will be discussed further later on, the list contemplates not only the founders of these monasteries but also names their immediate successors. The monastery of Xlajor, for example, was founded by father Sion, who was succeeded by the elderly Petros, who then handed over to father Barset.'* More significantly, the community of Kamrjajor was founded by father Yovhannés, who was succeeded by the man of God Polykarpos, who was succeeded by the scholarly Samuél.'* We know from the following chapter (III.8) that Polykarpos was still alive in c.970, because he was one of the leading figures at the council in Ani which deposed Anania’s successor Vahanik.'* In other words, the sequences of monastic leaders preserved by Step‘anos in III.7 extend in time beyond the death of Anania Mokac‘i. Step‘anos only records that he encountered some of them in his youth, not all of them, and those that he did meet need not have been the founders but their successors.
On the other hand, in III.9 Step‘anos identifies another group of scholars and hermits who were active during the nineteen years when Xac‘ik I was catholicos (972/3-990/1), and includes among them father Jeremiah, ‘the ascetic of Christ and my companion’, who lived near to the hermitage of T‘elenik‘ in the district of Nig, five miles from modern Bjni.’° It is impossible to know when they became companions or the age of Step‘anos when they did so, but even if this occurred in Xac‘ik’s first year, Step‘anos need not have been born before c.950. Indeed Step‘anos could have been born as late as c.970, if his sojourn with Jeremiah did not occur until late in the era of Xac‘ik’s oversight of the Armenian Church. Therefore, although he came from Taron and was brought up, it seems, in a coenobitic community, Step‘anos later moved to the foothills of Mount Aragac‘ to spend time with an ascetic.
Step‘anos does not reveal how long he spent with Jeremiah, but at some point in the final decade of the tenth century Step‘anos was commissioned by catholicos Sargis I Sewanc‘i to compose the Universal History. In 1.1, he describes offering the completed work as a present to the ‘most learned among scholars’, lord Sargis, which could be taken to imply that Step‘anos undertook the composition at his own initiative.’° This, however, was not the case, because in the same passage Step‘anos also notes that he had been ‘obliged by your compelling order’. This notion of deliberate commission is confirmed in the Conclusion to book III, where Step‘anos repeats that he had written his chronological composition at the command of Sargis.'” Quite how Step‘anos came to be selected by Sargis for this role is not immediately obvious. There is no indication, for instance, that they had encountered one another before Sargis became catholicos in 992/3. In III.32 Step‘anos reveals that Sargis had been brought up and educated under the care of his paternal uncle in the monastery of Sewan, but does not suggest that he himself had any ties with that community.'* On the other hand, the short account given by Step‘anos of Xac‘ik’s patriarchate may reveal the circumstances under which Step‘anos came to enter into the service of the catholicos. In III.9 he describes the building and decoration of the cathedral church at Argina in largely conventional terms which find parallels elsewhere in the Universal History.'? The reference, however, to Xa¢‘ik acquiring manuscripts containing the word of God, ‘the books of the holy Apostles and the prophet-proclaimed narratives, together with commentaries composed by all the vardapets’, is not formulaic or stereotypical. Rather it seems to record a particular initiative on the part of Xac‘ik I to expand the collection of scholarly resources in the archives of the catholicos. It is my belief that Step‘anos came to be involved in this project. Exactly when he did so is unclear, but it is striking that Step‘anos chose to associate this scholarly enterprise specifically with Xa¢‘ik rather than his sponsor Sargis. This inclines me to the view that he started working in the archives of the catholicos at Argina during the era of Xac‘ik I. If so, he would have been in post when Sargis became catholicos, and hence available to be selected to compose a work such as the Universal History.
The proposition that Step‘anos worked in the archives of the catholicos is strongly supported by one particular characteristic of the Universal History. It has long been recognized that this composition preserves a remarkable amount of precise information about a wide range of monastic communities scattered across the regions and districts of tenth-century Armenia, including new and existing foundations, the names and personal characteristics of monastic leaders, prominent scholars and the titles of the works which they composed or the intellectual gifts for which they were renowned. Less attention, however, has been paid to how this material was assembled, or to how it came to be incorporated in this text. The obvious way to achieve Xac‘ik’s ambition was to establish what texts the archives already held and then to go out and visit the major repositories of scholarly literature, namely monastic libraries, to examine their collections. Such a process would necessarily have included finding works written by scholars within those communities. Although otherwise reticent about his career, Step‘anos tells us in III.7 that he spent time in the monastery of Xlajor in the district of Derjan, that he was there during the days of Lent when father Barset the leader of the community died, and that while he was there he undertook, and perhaps completed, chronological research, indicating that he had access to the monastery’s library.”° Frustratingly, he does not reveal when he made this visit, although we may suppose that it took place after he had started work on the Universal History. While this is the only occasion when Step‘anos reveals he travelled to a monastery for the purposes of research, it seems highly probable that he made other such visits to all of the monastic communities which feature in the Universal History, for it is otherwise hard to envisage how Step‘anos could have obtained such precise information about so many communities, including their locations and leading scholars. By way of illustration, in IIL.9 Step‘anos records that the vardapet Yovhannés was killed during a raid and buried in monastery called Aksigoms in the district of Basean, ‘now Saint Yovhan’ (presumably after the vardapet), at the foot of Mount Ciranik‘.”! Step‘anos was aware that the original name of the monastery had changed, although its location, defined in terms of district and topography, remained the same. Furthermore, it is clear that Step‘anos continued to undertake these trips. When describing the foundation of Sirimvank‘ by Abas of Kars, at III.17, Step‘anos notes that its leader was a celebrated figure called Movsés who died with his two brothers in Armenian Era 451 (21 March 1002-20 March 1003).”* This is a rare cast-forward by Step‘anos, which disrupts the chronological structure of the composition. Its inclusion indicates that he visited this monastery, or otherwise obtained this information, during this year.
Thus, when Sargis decided to commission a work of history in the form and character of the Universal History, he turned to someone who was already working in the archives of the Catholicosate. With his close knowledge of that collection and the other monastic libraries he had visited, together with the personal contacts he had made, Step‘anos was in an ideal position to undertake that task. Moreover, there can be no doubt that he utilized materials already lodged in the archives of the Catholicosate. As shall be established later, he exploited the History of Yovhannés Drasxanakertc‘i, the work of an early tenth-century catholicos, whose final notices date to the first months of 924. He also had access to a dossier of recent high-level ecclesiastical correspondence, given the inclusion, at III.21, of a long response written on behalf of Xac‘ik I to the metropolitan of Sebasteia, perhaps in 986/7. Step‘anos records that this metropolitan, and other metropolitans, had started to write very long letters to lord Xac‘ik.?° Step‘anos therefore decided to include one of the replies, implying that he was aware of several. One of these other letters, addressed to Theodore, metropolitan of Melitene, was composed by Samuél Kamrjajorec‘i, also at the command of Xac‘ik, and was preserved separately in the collection of ecclesiastical correspondence known as Girk‘ TTt‘oc‘ or Book of Letters.”*
Frustratingly, it is not possible to show that Step‘anos was himself directly involved in the copying of any known text as part of Xa¢‘ik’s initiative to develop the archives of the catholicos at Argina. T‘amrazyan has argued that Xac‘ik was educated in the monastery of Xawarajor in the district of Argarunik’, where one of his fellow students was Anania Narekac‘i.”° Following T‘amrazyan, Anania dedicated a collection of spiritual exercises, Xratk’, to Xac‘ik while he was still bishop of Argarunik’, before his elevation to the office of catholicos in 972/3.”° Later on, Anania composed a refutation of Chalcedonian dogma called Hawatarmat or Root of Faith, which was also dedicated to Xa¢‘ik.”” This was presented to him in person at Argina in the summer of either 980 or 987. This was also the occasion when the bishop of Sebasteia, Uxtanés, was commissioned by Anania to write his History.** But while these episodes confirm that Xac‘ik was indeed a major figure in contemporary intellectual networks, to whom new compositions were dedicated, they do not attest the development of the scholarly resources in Argina through the copying of existing works; nor do they prove the role of Step‘anos in that project.
This is not quite the end of the story, however. Attached to a copy of the Armenian adaptation of Nemesius’ On Human Nature preserved in Jerusalem 1862 is the following colophon:
Remember in your holy and living prayers the owner of this holy testament, lord Xac‘ik, who with great eagerness caused it to be written from authentic copies for the instruction of God-loving monks, and God will remember you at his coming and in his Kingdom. It was written and decorated by my hand Géorg, an insignificant scribe, in Era 426 [27 March 977-26 March 978].?°
Although Géorg does not reveal the source of the original copies, his colophon confirms that Xa¢‘ik actively sought out texts, in this instance the work of a late fourth-century Christian philosopher, and had them copied for the instruction of monks. The Universal History attests the same process, but from the perspective of one engaged in searching for texts rather than simply copying them out. Step‘anos is unusual amongst medieval Armenian historians in that by convention he is credited with another name, Asotik. This has been taken to mean either ‘little speaker’ (the participle formed in of from the present stem of asel with a diminutive suffix, ik) or ‘singer’ in the sense of one experienced in religious singing (derived from the verb asofel).*° But it is striking that this name is not applied to Step‘anos in the Universal History, at least in the surviving manuscripts, nor is it found in the earliest subsequent reference to the work. In his History, composed shortly after 1072, Aristakés refers to ‘Step‘anos Taronac‘i who composed books of world history from Creation with an excellent structure, beginning with the first man and he finishes his history with the death of Gagik’.*! By the time Samuél Anecii had completed his Chronicle in 1163, however, Step‘anos had gained a specific ecclesiastical rank and a new surname as well as a variant spelling of his proper name. Samuél called him ‘Step‘annos vardapet, surnamed Astnik’.** Kirakos Ganjakec‘i used the same description in his History in the middle of the following century, although he named him Asotik rather than Astnik.*? As will be demonstrated later, Vardan Arewelc‘i’s Historical Compilation, completed shortly after 1267, used the Universal History extensively, but the single direct quotation is introduced simply with ‘Asotik says’.** On the basis of these references, the picture seems straightforward. Writing just seventy years after the Universal History was completed, Aristakés knew its author simply as Step‘anos Taronac’i [sic], but a century later his name and status had been transformed.
One final piece of evidence has been treated by many scholars as decisive. In his letter 55, the eleventh-century Armenian polymath Grigor Magistros wrote to Géorg vardapet in the following terms: “Therefore this letter requests you to give to us the commentary on the prophet Jeremiah, which the blessed and extremely old man Asotnik had written.’*° Quite understandably, this has been interpreted as a clear reference to Step‘anos Tardnec‘i and as evidence that he was still alive, though very aged, in the 1040s or 1050s, when the letter was written. Yet we should pause for thought before accepting this identification. Grigor Magistros does not associate Step‘anos Taronec‘i with Asotnik or Asotik, nor the latter with the Universal History or indeed any historical work, while the commentary on Jeremiah has not been discovered and is presumed lost. While there is no reason to doubt that Asotnik or Asolik did indeed write such a commentary and that he was alive in the middle of the eleventh century, the identification of this figure with Step‘anos Tardnec‘i remains unproven. Indeed, the significant expansion in the amount of detail provided by Samuél Anec‘i in his short description suggests that two figures have become conflated, one Step‘anos Taronec‘i, the author of the Universal History, and a second Step‘annos, vardapet, known as Asotnik or Asotik, the author of the lost commentary. Therefore, although many commentators over the last century and a half have preferred to use Asolik as a convenient shortened form of the name of the author of the Universal History, in this study he will be identified only as Step‘anos Taronecii.
HISTORIOGRAPHICAL CONTEXT
Before plunging into a detailed analysis of the content, structure, and purposes of the Universal History, it is important to establish the historiographical context in which it was written. What were the interests and ambitions of other Armenian writers of the time, and how did they articulate these in their works of history? Admittedly, this is not a question which has attracted much in the way of scholarly discussion, largely because the historiographical context of the Universal History has been treated as settled. In terms of historical narrative, this is certainly the case. As the only sustained contemporary study on tenth-century affairs, book III bridges the gap between the final notices of the History of Yovhannés Drasxanakertc‘i, describing the perilous situation of its author in the first months of 924, and the first notices in the History of Aristakés, recording the visit of the Byzantine emperor Basil II to the Caucasus in the year 1000 and its impact across Tayk‘ and Abkhazia.*° These two works have therefore provided the historiographical context for the Universal History, and there is some justification for this approach. Step‘anos himself identified the History of Yovhannés Drasxanakertc'i as the most recent work in the series of Armenian compositions cited in the opening chapter of book I, and he exploited it extensively in books II and III.*” Furthermore, as we saw earlier, the History of Aristakés commends the Universal History in its opening and implies a relationship with the conclusion of that work. It is worth recalling, however, that both of these Armenian authors had their own interests and concerns. Aristakés completed his study of eleventh-century history after the battle of Manzikert in 1071.°° As a result, he was writing seven decades after the events described in the opening passages of his History, leaving him open to the charge that he had reshaped the past in order to present that catastrophe as the culmination of a much longer and inevitable process. The contention that as one Armenian history concluded another picked up the threads of the same story, and told it in the same way, is not substantiated when one examines the compositions individually. Although there are points of correspondence between them, medieval Armenian histories construct their own stories in their own ways. They are not instalments in a single grand narrative. So while the Universal History may bridge the narrative gap between the Histories of Yovhannés Drasxanakertc‘i and Aristakés, it does not follow that these works offer the best or most contemporary historiographical context within which to situate that work.
This traditional attachment to Thistoire événementielle’, and the contribution of the Universal History to it, has distracted scholarly attention away from four other less familiar, but more contemporary, Armenian histories. These offer different literary and historical contexts against which the Universal History may be placed and analysed. As we shall see, these works are extremely diverse in many respects, but they are united in reflecting a more creative attitude towards the past, one not based upon, or circumscribed by, narrative.
Some feature well-known episodes from the distant past reimagined in new ways; others tell stories about characters who seem to combine elements from the lives of several different historical figures. As records of what happened these may have little to commend them, but as recent works of historical literature, defined broadly, they reveal much about the circumstances in which their authors were writing and the attitudes which they held. These compositions offer a much richer and more contemporary perspective through which to interpret the Universal History.
The four texts divide into two groups. The first focuses primarily upon members of the Arcruni princely family in Vaspurakan and their interactions with caliphs and local emirs. The second reaches back into the past and contemplates historic Armenian relations with the Roman Empire, both before and during the activities of St Grigor the Illuminator and the conversion of Armenia to Christianity. Let us briefly examine each of these in turn.
T‘ovma Arcruni’s History of the House of Arcrunik‘ holds particular value for historians of medieval Armenia. Not only does it attest how malleable, how susceptible to reinterpretation, the distant Armenian past could be, with Arcruni figures being inserted into familiar episodes, such as the battle of Awarayr; it also records the ceaseless struggle for hegemony between different branches of the extended Arcruni family and even between close relatives.*? Those passages covering the second half of the ninth century are particularly rich in this respect, describing in great detail how bitter rivalries were played out at a local level. In the sole surviving manuscript, the original composition ends mid-sentence in a notice dated to 904, but this is followed by a series of continuations. The first of these opens with the birth of Gurgén Arcruni in 882 and provides a narrative of events which overlaps with, but is separate from, T‘ovma’s own composition.*® This has clearly been lifted from a separate work which extends beyond T‘ovma’s History and considers at length the character and achievements of Gagik I Arcruni, the leading member of the Arcruni family in the first four decades of the tenth century. Employing an elaborate literary style, the anonymous author praises Gagik for his wisdom, his virtue, and his valour in various situations. Great attention is paid to his building activities at several locations, most notably on the island of Alt‘amar.*’ The extended study concludes with an elegy, incomplete, reflecting once more on his achievements.*” This eulogizing biography of Gagik is entirely conventional save in one respect, namely its representation of the relationship between Gagik and Yusuf b. Abi’l Saj.** Previous histories, including the History of Yovhannés Drasxanakertc‘i, had depicted the relationship between Sajid emirs and Armenian princes as unequal and violent, characterized by oppression and conflict. The continuation, however, conceptualized this relationship in an entirely new way. On hearing of his reputation, bravery, and intelligence, Yusuf invites Gagik to his court, where he is deeply impressed by the latter’s wisdom. They discuss profound and obscure questions, otherwise undefined, as well as various aspects of kingship, including practical solutions to present dilemmas, knowledge of past royal dynasties, and the dimensions of their kingdoms. Gagik is depicted as a young and handsome man, his outward appearance reflecting his inner virtues. This passage evokes the tenth-century salon culture of the majlis and even the mundzara, where the court was treated as the locus of intellectual dialogue and debate.** It seems improbable that a Sajid would have sought to take any lessons in kingship from an Armenian prince, nor that an Armenian prince would have given them, but the story clearly held meaning for its Armenian author. Although the continuation is undated, its composition seems best suited to a time shortly after Gagik’s death in 943, when memories of Gagik were strongest and such a work would have held greatest significance. Evidently in the middle of tenth century, even the recent past was capable of being refashioned. Now that the threat of Sajid depredations had disappeared and even the memory of them was fading, the relationship between Yusuf and Gagik could be imagined in new terms, as equals respecting and learning from one another. Not only does this indicate that Armenian historical writing in Arcruni Vaspurakan was now in dialogue with contemporary Arabic and Persian literature and forms and modes of expression; it also suggests that a process of political and social transformation was under way, with traditional loyalties and identities breaking down. Another little-studied composition supports this contention. The History of the Anonymous Story-Teller is best known for its misidentification as the History of Sapuh Bagratuni, the title under which it was published in 1921.*° Traces of this error persist in its confusing attribution to Pseudo-Sapuh, but this is far from being its only challenge. Thomson observed in the introduction to his translation of the work that it was ‘a collection of oral tales, most of them dealing with persons of the Arcruni family which were gathered at an unknown time and written down by an unknown author’.*® Given this apparent lack of context, scholars have been reluctant to delve too deeply into this collection and assess its historical potential. Yet we should pause before throwing up our hands in despair and admitting defeat. For while it remains the case that the collection will never be capable of absolute dating, and its compiler is always going to be anonymous, there are several features which, when viewed collectively, do afford insight into where and when this collection was compiled.
The History of the Anonymous Story-Teller is divided into two parts.*” The first considers late sixth- and early seventh-century affairs, and is split into several sections. It opens with an extraordinary biography of the Prophet Muhammad.** He is portrayed as a Persian, the son of ‘Abd al-Rahmaan, from ‘the city of Rueran, near the city of Réyy, opposite the fortress of Isfahan’.*? Among the many divergent traditions, Muhammad is reported as inducing merchants from Samarra to travel to Alexandria and deceiving them on the way, as well as being responsible for founding the city of Baghdad. The second section switches westwards and records a number of fictional stories concerning the emperor Maurice, including the assertions that he had an Armenian heritage, that he defeated K‘asré, king of Persia—Khusro II, the Sasanian sahangah—and that he married his sister° A separate heading introduces the third section, describing the recovery of the True Cross by Heraclius after a victory over king K‘asré on the plain of T‘awréz (Tabriz).°’ K‘asré is depicted living in a palace ‘in the capital known as the Golden City, that is, T‘awréz’.°* Even if the identification of the Golden City is a gloss, this misidentification is instructive; Tabriz is the capital from where Persian kings are deemed to rule. This is followed by a version of the Arab conquest of the Near East down to the failed siege of Constantinople in 717 which is closely related to the narrative preserved in the History of Lewond.”’ The final section moves back in time to describe the Arab conquest of Armenia and a massacre of Roman troops at a bridge, betrayed by prince Vard R8tuni to Sahak, son of Hurmizt, the ruler of the Persians.°* Full of remorse, Vard is directed by bishop Grigorios and a hermit called Simeon to build churches dedicated to St Step‘anos the Protomartyr. In obeying their advice, the penitent Vard manages to secure relics of the saint from Jerusalem.
The second part of the work comprises a series of narratives, loosely combined, which seem to reflect something of the prevailing conditions in ninth- and tenth-century Vaspurakan. It must be admitted straightaway that this too is a highly imaginative work, a creative blend of history and fiction, in which separate but homonymous figures have become conflated. The clearest illustration of this is found in the final passages, where a composite Smbat Bagratuni appears, an amalgam of traditions associated with Smbat I Bagratuni and Smbat II Bagratuni who reigned at the start and the end of the tenth century respectively.”° It is not, therefore, a work to turn to for a sober narrative of what happened. The materials have become so jumbled together that there is no point in trying to disentangle the real from the make-believe. Nevertheless, even invented worlds reveal something of the context in which they were imagined. By taking a step back from the minutiae of the tales, several features begin to emerge.
In the first place, the world depicted in the second part is inhabited by members of the Arcruni, Anjewacii, and R&tuni princely houses. It is not limited to a single branch of the Arcruni family. In other words, there is a surprising but welcome breadth to the range of noble families featured in the text. Secondly, while the characters from these princely houses may be contrived, and the stories associated with them may be largely or wholly invented, the geographical space which they inhabit is real. It is defined in terms of the districts of eastern Vaspurakan and neighbouring regions further east, notably Hér, Salmast, and Marand, which are treated as Persian rather than Armenian territory. The cities, fortresses, and villages located in these districts occur throughout the composition, as well as named topographical features such as valleys and mountains.”°
This focalization is a particular characteristic of the History of the Anonymous Story-Teller, situating the narratives in terms of place. However, there is no hint of any movement westwards into Byzantine Anatolia by the Arcruni house, at least not in the version of the text which has survived; the departure from Vaspurakan by Senek‘erim Arcruni in 1021 does not feature, even indirectly. Indeed, part two opens with the assertion that Armenia was divided between the house of the Bagratunik® in the north and the house of Arcrunik® in Vaspurakan.”’ This is not revised or revisited, suggesting that it still held meaning. Finally, the latest historical event in the narrative which is capable of independent corroboration is the campaign of Smbat II Bagratuni against Abkhazia in 989.°° Moreover, although arguments from silence are always problematic, it is very striking that there are no references to Turks anywhere in the work. This suggests that this collection of traditions had made the transition to written form before Seljuk raiding parties began to impinge on Vaspurakan in the decades after 1030.
The evidence outlined above supports the contention that the present form of the History of the Anonymous Story-Teller was established at the end of the tenth century or the beginning of the eleventh century, somewhere in the three decades between 990 and 1020. If one accepts this dating, this composition becomes a near-contemporary work emanating from Vaspurakan with which the Universal History of Step‘anos Taronec‘i may be compared. It offers useful insights into the wider cultural milieu. Most significantly, one cannot help but notice its strongly Persianate character. It is expressed powerfully at the start of the text through the extraordinary account of the life and career of the Prophet Muhammad. But it also features in the final notices, in which the caliph, Ali, son of Apusaylép, is described as ruling over the land of the Persians and seems to be based in Tabriz.°? Furthermore, the great emir Abuseé, the father of Afsin and Usep (al-Afshin and Yusuf), is recorded as being of the Persian nation and holding the city of Ardawet (Ardabil) and its territory; and Usep is granted the city of Srav (Sarav), then Ardawet, Norh, and the district of Zarewand by Ali.©° These notices therefore provide a colourful version of the rise of the Sajids to power in Azarbayjan, in which they are presented not in terms of their relationship with the “Abbasid caliphs in Baghdad but in terms of their ties to Tabriz. We should not, therefore, read this composition for its narrative value but rather for what it reveals about the circulation and popularity of stories from neighbouring regions, stories which do not have Armenian or Christian dimensions but which nevertheless came to be preserved in Armenian historical memory. Indeed, one could argue that the History of the Anonymous Story-Teller expresses the cultural hybridity of Vaspurakan, fusing local Armenian and non-Armenian traditions to create a highly entertaining series of tableaux populated by a large cast of characters. In support of this, it is striking that when the impossibly generous prince Derén Arcruni meets a mysterious stranger, he is described as speaking to him in the Tacik tongue, that is, in Arabic.°’ Just as Gagik Arcruni had no difficulty in conversing with the Sajid Yusuf in the Continuator’s narrative, so Derén had no difficulty conversing with the disguised king of Baghdad. This bears out Ibn Hawgal’s observation that the majority of the inhabitants of Armenia spoke Persian, but that it was extremely rare to find someone speaking Persian who did not also speak Arabic, and that both merchants and the landowning elite spoke excellent Arabic.®
The literary culture of tenth-century Vaspurakan therefore reflects significant engagement with Persian Azarbayjan and northern Mesopotamia, looking predominantly east and south rather than westwards to Byzantium.™ Its surviving historical literature is infused with contemporary expressions of Persian courtly culture and popular traditions centred on the actions of local nobles and more distant, often more powerful, non-Armenian rulers from further afield. This orientation is revealing. Although the Universal History of Step‘anos Taroneci has very little to say about Vaspurakan and reveals no direct borrowings from either T‘ovma Arcuni’s History or its continuations, or the History of the Anonymous Story-Teller, it nevertheless possesses a similar breadth of historical vision. At III.16 it preserves an unheralded but invaluable description of the Buyid ruler “Adud al-Dawla, which is similar in tone and character to passages in the History of the Anonymous Story-Teller. Moreover, from III.12 until the end of the work, Step‘anos incorporates a mass of short notices which comment on the actions and affairs of neighbouring rulers, including, but not limited to, their interactions with Armenians. By way of illustration, a cluster of different figures, correctly identified, feature in quick succession in the first half of book III: Aba al Hayja b. Ibrahim b. Marzban, the Sallarid amir (III.12), Abt Dulaf, the amir of Golt‘n (III.13), Badh b. Dustuk, the founder of the Kurdish Marwanids (III.14), and Aba al Hayja al-Rawwadi, the leader of the Kurdish Rawwadis (III.18). This is not to suggest that these passages derive from a single collection similar to History of the Anonymous Story-Teller. Many of them are short, terse notices recording changes in the regional balance of power which impinged in some way on Bagratuni interests. A few, however, also record snatches of direct speech or pass comment on the incident in some way, and these features bring them closer in character to the stories preserved in that text. Whilst these notices have much greater historical purchase than those preserved in the History of the Anonymous Story-Teller, they attest a similar mentality, an awareness of how power was structured at a local and regional level, how Armenians and non-Armenians interacted and the extent to which this changed over time.
The second cluster of contemporary Armenian histories also comprises two texts: the History of Taron, whose two parts are attributed to Zenob Glak and Yovhannés Mamikonean, and the History of bishop Uxtanés of Sebasteia, in three parts, of which the third is lost.®* Their titles advertise a very different origin and orientation, for the first is focused on the western district of Taron, wholly annexed by the Byzantine Empire in 966/7, and the second is written by a bishop of Sebasteia, situated far to the west and always under Byzantine control, but with a sizeable Armenian population in the second half of the tenth century. If the histories discussed above express something of the prevailing Persianate culture of tenth-century Vaspurakan, these two works, in their different ways, look in the opposite direction, westwards towards the Roman Empire of late antiquity and so by implication towards the Byzantine Empire of the present day.
The historical value of the History of Taron has until very recently been doubted, with much of the scholarly debate taken up with the original form, dating, and authorship of the work as a whole.® The part attributed to Zenob Glak purports to record the conversion of Armenia by St Grigor the Illuminator at the start of the fourth century, whilst Yovhannés Mamikonean is credited with an account of the conflicts which apparently engulfed Tar6n in the first half of the seventh century. The conversion narrative, however, is unlike any of the other accounts of this pivotal event; moreover, the multiple campaigns waged across Taron are impossibly compressed in both space and time. If, however, one accepts the meticulous research undertaken by Avdoyan, and his contention that the work was composed after the Byzantine annexation of Tar6n in 966/7 and before Uxtanés complied his own History during the 980s—since he refers to the testimony of Zenob Glak on the issue of when and by whom Trdat was crowned king—then the History of Taron takes on a new and vital significance as a composition of the late tenth century, providing insight into the present through its presentation of the past.°° Through studying the several ways in which the familiar conversion narrative was rethought and transformed, often in radical ways, we can begin to explore the social and cultural landscape of late tenth-century Tarén.°”
The first part of the History of Taron situates the monastery of Glak at Innaknean at the centre of the conversion narrative. It maintains that this was the location where St Grigor first destroyed pagan shrines, drove out demons, and built a martyrium for the relics of John the Baptist. The effect of this refashioning is to undermine the primacy of the traditional centre of Christian practice and devotion in Taron at ASstisat. This substitution lies at the heart of why the History of Taron was composed, promoting the claims of the previously unattested community of Glak at the expense of Astiat.°* This composition, therefore, illustrates the new possibilities which opened up in Taron after the departure of the extended princely family and the clerical elite in 966/7. The monastery of Glak took advantage of these changed circumstances to assert its central role in the ministry of St Grigor and the conversion of Armenia. At the same time, it laid claim to, or perhaps consolidated its possession of, certain named estates surrounding the monastery by asserting that St Grigor himself had given them to the monastery.” It also promoted the authenticity of its relics of John the Baptist, the holy Karapet. Their sanctity was founded on their translation by St Grigor himself and attested by the later miracles associated with them. Several figures invoke the assistance of this saint in battle or single combat and emerge triumphant as a result. Furthermore, an extended prayer, purportedly spoken by an ascetic and martyr, Polykarpos, just before he and his six colleagues were killed by marauding Persians, may be interpreted as expressing the wider ambitions and expectations of the monastic community.”” Polykarpos offers forgiveness through the intercession of the holy Karapet for all sinners who travel to the monastery and give generously from their own wealth. The prayer is given divine approval, with a voice from heaven stating: ‘May it be as you wish. Whoever for the sake of my name shall go on pilgrimage to [this church of] the Karapet, I shall release them on the day of my visitation.”’ How one might establish a relationship with the monastic community, and the advantages of so doing, could hardly have been set out more explicitly.
As Avdoyan observed, the History of Taron is the earliest surviving example of a work of ‘institutional’ history in Armenian literature, focused on the history of the monastery of Glak at Innaknean.”* He did not address why such a text might have been produced, nor why it was composed at this time. Yet it cannot be simply coincidental that such a new form of historical writing should have emerged in the district of Tarn during the later tenth century. This was a time of radical political and social restructuring following the departure of the existing lay and clerical elite, when new opportunities presented themselves both to individuals and institutions to lay claim to material resources as well as past traditions. As Step‘anos himself appreciated, monasteries were permanent features in a changing social and cultural landscape as well as the principal repositories of Armenian historical memory, with the means to perpetuate and to refine historical traditions. The History of Taron represents a literary response to the Byzantine annexation of that district from a monastic community which sought to take advantage of the new circumstances and advertised itself as the principal centre of pilgrimage and devotional worship in Taron. In this enterprise, it proved to be remarkably successful.
This revision of the conversion narrative also provided an opportunity to reimagine the relationship with the Imperial Church. From the outset, the History of Taron establishes multiple connections between the activities and movements of St Grigor the Illuminator, the monastery of Glak at Innaknean, and the metropolitan of Caesarea. The opening passages assert that Grigor was consecrated by Leontios in Caesarea, and that he received relics of John the Baptist from him.”* These are familiar features across the Agat‘angelos cycles.”* However, new links are also developed in the course of correspondence between Grigor and the metropolitan. Grigor notes that Leontios had presented ‘two living confessors of Christ, Anton and Kronidés, to Armenia’, and asks him to send further workers, including Eliazaros, the brother of Zenob, and Timot‘éos, bishop of Agdén, ‘whose knowledge of literature you yourself have greatly praised’.’> None of these figures feature in other texts, but these references establish a relationship of dependence between Taron and the see of Caesarea in the formative era, with Grigor himself requesting trained clerics of various kinds—bishops, monks, and scholars are all mentioned—to support his mission. The History of Taron, therefore, asserts that the Imperial Church played a vital role in the Christianization of fourth-century Taron and the mission of St Grigor. This is significant, because it is clear that the Byzantine annexation of Taron in 966/7 inaugurated a transformation in episcopal oversight. Notitia 10, which records the network of metropolitans and bishops under the authority of the patriarch of Constantinople at the end of the tenth century, reveals that four new imperial sees had been created by this date: one for Taron itself, another centred on the city of Mus, a third for the district of Xoyt’, and a fourth for the unidentified Katsoun, which should probably associated with a site dedicated to the Holy Cross, Surb Xac‘.’° It is not clear how these sees related to one another, nor if they were created at the same time, but at some point in the eleventh century they were brought together under the oversight of a new metropolitan of Keltzene, Kortzene, and Tar6n.’’ The relationship between Taron and the see of Caesarea envisaged in the History of Taron should be interpreted as prefiguring, and hence legitimizing, the actual circumstances of the late tenth century.
In contrast to its inventive retelling of ecclesiastical history, the History of Taron offers little analysis of the changed political context. King Trdat and St Grigor move freely through Roman territory, but they encounter archbishops and other clerics rather than emperors or laymen. The only exception seems to be the description of the location of monastery of Glak at Innaknean in the opening passage of part one. It is defined as being situated in the old Roman province of Armenia IV, on the borders of Armenia III.”* Although the boundaries of the Roman provinces designated as Armenia were revised several times in late antiquity, Innaknean had never been in either of these provinces at any time.”? Nevertheless, the fact that it could be imagined as being located on imperial territory, and that this was unproblematic, reveals the positive attitude of the author towards the Byzantine Empire. In this regard it is also significant that there is no hint of confessional tension or disagreement within the text.
It is only in part two, which purports to describe events from the late sixth and early seventh centuries, that imperial affairs register in the narrative.*° These, however, are largely confined to situating the conflicts between Armenian princes and Persian commanders in the context of the murder of the emperor Maurice by Phokas.*’ This could imply that political turmoil in the Byzantine Empire was viewed as causing turmoil in Taron—that there was a causative link. Overall, however, the second part of the History of Taron devotes far more attention to the confrontations between Armenians and Persians, fantastical confrontations which are portrayed as taking place in the vicinity of Innaknean and its estates. This violent rejection of Persian dominion, or indeed relationship of any kind, serves to distance this work from the History of the Anonymous Story-Teller by a considerable margin.
In order to obtain an impression of how Armenians related—or rather, how they could be represented as relating—to the Byzantine Empire on a political level at the end of the tenth century, we must turn to the History of bishop Uxtanés of Sebasteia. As noted previously, this work originally comprised three books, of which only two survive. The first book opens with a long preface, and then records the history of humanity in terms of kings and patriarchs from Adam down to the era of king Trdat and St Grigor the Illuminator, in seventy-six chapters. The second book rehearses the separation of the Armenian and Georgian churches at the start of the seventh century, in seventy chapters. The third part, now lost, considered the (re)baptism of the people called Cad or Cayt‘, which should be interpreted as a pejorative term for Chalcedonian Armenians, meaning deficient, incomplete, or hybrid, neither fully Greek nor fully Armenian.*” Towards the end of the preface Uxtanés lists the three books in sequence.** This confirms that he viewed them as constituent parts of a single work rather than freestanding studies. In relation to the Cad/Cayt‘, Uxtanés intimates that he is going to list their:
districts and the principal villages and cities and fortresses, organized by district, which are in that country, just as your will commanded; and the monasteries with their monks, each by name, and the remote places of the hermits, both those who live in communities and those who live by themselves, whether in inhabited or uninhabited places, in order to illustrate the power of God which worked in secret and openly on those who have been baptized, through the appearance of signs and miracles, visions and manifestations, all together spiritual works. And the speech and the care and the labour and the testimony of the bishops of [the see of] the blessed Grigor and his servants, the cooperation and command of king Smbat and the enthusiasm of the nobles for this spiritual work, and the testimony of the princes, according to each one’s authority, and the other members of the elite, according to each one’s honour, those who worked with us in this discourse and spiritual endeavour.**
In other words, Uxtanés seems to be suggesting that this third part set out exactly where these communities of rebaptized Armenians were located—and perhaps where those Chalcedonian Armenians who had rejected this initiative were settled as well. The reference to them being located ‘in that country’ implies that they were not situated in Armenia. This conceptualization holds significance for interpreting the Universal History and will be addressed in more detail in the conclusion.
Unlike the authors of the other three historical compositions, who remain firmly in the shadows, the figure of Uxtanés emerges in sharp relief from the pages of the preface to his History. Uxtanés was a pupil of Anania Narekacii, and held his master in the highest esteem, addressing him as ‘the most sublime of the fathers’ and ‘O most sublime lord, adorned by God, my lord and universal vardapet’.®° Uxtanés considered himself to be the last and least of his pupils, a familiar trope. He records that he had met Anania on the banks of the Axurean river, and had celebrated the liturgy with him and “our honoured by God and holy patriarch Xac‘ik’, on the 11th day of the month of tré, a Sunday, at the ninth hour, during the summertime.*° Since Xa¢‘ik founded the cathedral church at Argina on the Axurean river, it is almost certain that this is where they met. This was the occasion when Anania presented Xa¢‘ik with his Hawatarmat, or Root of Faith, a refutation of dyophysite belief.” Uxtanés recalls that Anania had spoken with him face to face about ‘this History’, suggesting that if he, Anania, were looking for a place to learn, Uxtanés should respond with such a composition and give him what he wanted, a composition which examined and revealed changes over time. He continues:
Now, you, accept this composition from me as a sign of love in fulfilment of the promise and to satisfy your request concerning this History. Now from you to me, so that you shall remember our promise and sign of love, because in that holy place, you inscribed the Lord’s name, through a memorial of love, may you continue for ever to remember in your prayers the grace of the Holy Spirit for you and us in equal measure; through the intercession of all the saints, may [grace] be given to us for deeds, in which we stand and boast, through trust in God.**
In other words, Uxtanés uses the preface to remind Anania that he had commissioned this work and that he expected sufficient recompense, albeit in spiritual terms. It is clear from the preface that the two had also been in contact about the commission. Uxtanés refers to ‘the words which flowed from your lips and the compliments from your Magnanimity to my own Insignificance’ being conveyed by means of ‘our beloved and trusted brother, P‘ilippos the priest’; and later on to some brief words of his own being conveyed to Anania by Siméon the priest.*? Furthermore, the preface is headed: ‘Reply to the letter of Anania and promise to fulfil his request’, implying a second letter from Anania. It is not clear whether these exchanges took place before or after their meeting at Argina. As noted above, T‘amrazyan argued that this took place either in early July 980 or 987, using the coincidence between the day of the week and the date. A terminus ante quem for the completion of the History is supplied by the death of king Smbat II, in the winter of 989/90; the passage cited above was clearly written while he was alive. If the meeting did take place in early July 987, Uxtanés completed his History in two and a half years. This is a narrow time-frame for the composition, but by no means an impossible one. Both dates remain viable.
Of the two surviving books, it is the second, articulating the schism between the Armenian and Georgian churches in the first decade of the seventh century, which has attracted most scholarly attention. It is organized around a mass of extracts from letters preserved in the Girk‘ T?t‘oc‘ or Book of Letters. Twenty-nine of the seventy chapters are based on twenty-seven letters found in this collection. The individual relationships between the original letters and their redacted forms in Uxtanés’ History have been studied by others and will not be discussed here, beyond observing that it is highly likely the Girk* TTt‘oc‘ was preserved in the archives of the Catholicosate in Argina, and it has already been established that Uxtanés travelled there in person on at least one occasion.” Two further chapters are based on letters which Uxtanés asserts were found in Tiflis and translated from Georgian into Armenian by a priest named Kirakos.”! This seems unlikely. Their location at the very start of the book, together with two unexpected expressions of hostility towards the Romans in the first letter, support the contention that these two letters were both devised by Uxtanés himself. The first urges Kiwrion: “Do not be of the same opinion as the Romans’; the second notes that he had spent a long time living in the country of the Romans ‘until the grace of the Spirit summoned you to this calling and pulled you out of the iron furnace, from the violent furnaces of the Romans’.”” Yet the twenty-seven original letters preserved in the Girk‘ T7t‘oc‘ do not conceptualize doctrinal error in such terms. While they may condemn the teachings of individual scholars or the decisions of the Council of Chalcedon and offer long theological rebuttals, no letter equates Roman belief with heresy, nor associates living in Roman territory as akin to living in a furnace. These reflect the opinions of someone living at a different time and in a different context, and that person can only be Uxtanés himself. The association of these two letters with Tiflis, therefore, provided them with a plausible but fictitious origin.
The remaining chapters establish the historical framework within which the extracted and redacted versions of the original letters are to be interpreted. This framework represents a seventh-century context as it was imagined by Uxtanés, that is to say, one constructed by a late tenth-century author. The chapters comprise a blend of material. Some of the information has clearly been lifted from the letters themselves and then elaborated or developed, but other notices contain details which are otherwise unattested. Garsoian has argued that ‘ses interprétations, invariablement injurieuses pour Kiwrion, refletent davantage le point de vue polémique du X° siécle que celui des documents du VII®, and this must surely be the case.’ If one accepts this contention, however, it follows that it is not possible to disentangle the genuine from the imagined, at least not without independent corroboration. Nevertheless, since all of the information contained in these chapters has been filtered through the mind of Uxtanés, we should recognize that they reveal the past that Uxtanés wanted to project. By way of illustration, the statement in the opening chapter of book II, that Kiwrion had lived for fifteen years in the district of Koloneia in the great city of Nikopolis, may be true, but it may equally be the case that creating this background for Kiwrion served Uxtanés’ polemical purposes.”* It enabled him to present Kiwrion as someone with a connection to the region, and so justified his appropriation of the original seventh-century correspondence. It is striking that the Nestorian xuzik whom Kiwrion allegedly consecrated as a bishop is also identified as coming from Koloneia, from a village called Zutatim, near to the city of Nikopolis. This allowed Uxtanés to assert that, ‘not only did they come from the same district and village but they also shared the same heresy and were fellow students of the same evil teachings’.°° Their common origin seems improbable. Uxtanés also betrays a misunderstanding of the term xuzik. In late antique Armenia this denoted someone from XuZastan and was never applied to a Roman dyophysite. Intriguingly, Uxtanés names this xuzik Kis, a name which he derives from xstut‘iwn, harshness or inflexibility.*° This etymology is convenient, but also improbable. It seems more likely that Uxtanés was inviting his readers to associate the man’s name with kés, half, highlighting someone who was half-and-half, half Armenian but half Roman as well, and so establishing a precursor to those known as Cad/Cayt'.
Book II of Uxtanés’ History, therefore, holds great significance for the study of ethno-confessional tensions in the late tenth century. It is written from the perspective of a bishop of the Armenian Church who recognized the leadership of the catholicos Xa¢‘ik, but whose pastoral oversight covered Armenian communities located within the Byzantine Empire in and around Sebasteia. His sharp antipathy towards Chalcedon emerges forcefully, but this is directed against Kiwrion rather than representatives of the Imperial Church. It is worth remembering, however, that the History was commissioned by Anania Narekac‘i, whose own anti-Chalcedonian treatise Hawatarmat was mentioned earlier. While the History is written out of the context of contemporary turbulence in and around Sebasteia, we should not forget that it was written for someone located on the southern shore of lake Van in Vaspurakan, a region then outside the formal structures of the Imperial Church, whose own dyophysite sympathies had manifested themselves a decade or more before, when the controversial catholicos Vahanik had taken refuge there.”” Catholicos Anania Mokac'i had previously experienced a similar challenge in his dealings with Siwnik‘ a generation before.?* Chalcedonian Armenians were not confined to any one district, and it may be that Uxtanés refrained intentionally from commenting on the involvement of the Imperial Church, whatever his own experience in Sebasteia may have been.
At first glance, the first book of Uxtanés’ History seems to contain little of value, no more than a compilation of extracts from known works tracing the course of human history from Adam to the reign of king Trdat and the mission of St Grigor. Only chapter 75 has attracted regular scholarly comment, and this is because it is described as an extract from the History of Sapuh Bagratuni, a lost work of the late ninth century.”? Closer examination, however, reveals that there is much more to this book than has previously been acknowledged. Four features in particular deserve to be highlighted. Its debt to the first two books of the History of Movsés Xorenac‘i has long been appreciated, as the introduction to Brosset’s translation attests.'°° Uxtanés derived his knowledge of the Armenian past primarily—although, as we shall see, not exclusively—from Xorenac‘i’s History. But Uxtanés then undertook a second editorial process. Rather than leaving the individual extracts in a raw, undigested state, he then fused them with material drawn from a late seventh-century Armenian composite work of universal history and chronology, sometimes attributed to Anania Sirakac‘i, and most recently published under the authorship of P‘ilon Tirakac‘i, but better-known as the Anonymous Chronicle.'°! There can be no doubt whatsoever that Uxtanés exploited this text directly; the borrowings are multiple and verbatim, to the extent that the first fifty-nine chapters of book I, from the opening passages recording the descent from Adam to the summary of the reign of the emperor Constantine, comprise material derived from one or other of these texts, that is, either the History of Movsés Xorenac‘i or the Anonymous Chronicle. All of the passages describing Roman emperors, their years in power and events which took place during their reigns, from Gaius Julius Caesar to Constantine I, were lifted verbatim from the Anonymous Chronicle.'°” Uxtanés did not merge or meld the extracts; rather, he interleaved them. Admittedly, the resultant narrative is fragmented and disrupted, alternating between extracts from the two texts, but it evinces a deeper purpose on the part of Uxtanés, namely to impose a chronology on the Armenian past as it had been recorded by Xorenac‘i. This is highly significant. Although earlier tenth-century Armenian historians had shown an awareness of the broad sweep of human history from the time of Adam to the present day, including T‘ovma Arcruni and Yovhannés Drasxanakertc'i, none of them had shown any interest in chronological precision. Uxtanés’ History therefore emerges as an important work for the study of the Universal History of Step‘anos Taronec‘i. As we shall see, that work demonstrates an even greater interest in chronological precision.
This process of compilation on the part of Uxtanés not only provided a chronological framework to the past, from Adam to the reign of king Trdat; it also fused the distant Armenian past with the distant Roman past. This too seems to have been in the mind of Uxtanés when he came to compile book I. Episodes from Xorenac‘i’s History which comment on relations between Armenians and Romans feature prominently in his selections. Chapter 17, for example, offers a brief summary of the reign of Aram drawn from Xorenac‘i’s History (1.13 and 1.14), and describes his campaign ‘to the regions of the Biwzandac‘ik’, [the site] which is called Caesarea’.’°? Although the reference to Caesarea is in Xorenac‘i’s History, its location by reference to the inhabitants of Byzantium, the forerunner of Constantinople, seems to have been inserted by Uxtanés in place of the inhabitants of Cappadocia. The inclusion of the correspondence between Abgar and the emperor Tiberius in chapters 36-8, and the concession of Mesopotamia to Vespasian and Titus by Eruand in chapter 41, provide other instances of Roman-Armenian engagement, and it is striking that relations are often presented in terms of antagonism and hostility.°* Of course, Uxtanés’ decision to include the full Roman imperial sequence as preserved in the Anonymous Chronicle, in seventeen sections, also imparted a strong Roman tinge to book I, but these selections from Xorenac‘i’s History imply intent. One way of approaching book I, therefore, is to see it as a commentary on Armenian-Roman relations in the past, and an invitation to understand the present in similar terms.
The third feature of book I, first noted by Peeters, is its knowledge of saints and holy sites in and around the city of Sebasteia.’°° This is illustrated through two chapters. Chapter 46 comprises a short hagiography of St Theodore Teron or Tiron (sometimes known as Theodore of Amaseia).!°° In this account, Theodore came from the village of Sabobé, six miles from the city of Verisa, in ‘the district of Armeniakon, which was called Second Armenia’.'°” He fought and defeated a dragon, visap, on the estate, prastin, of a widow named Eusebia, and was subsequently martyred in the city of Amaseia. An unnamed pious woman took the relics of the saint to the village of Euchaita, near to the city of Amaseia, and placed them in a tomb with great honour. The narrative ends by noting that the holy martyr was killed on the twenty-fourth day of the month of mareri. Although not previously identified, this is a redaction of a short hagiography titled History of the City of Amaseia and the Life and Works of St Theodore the Commander.'®* The longer version credits Eusebia with the translation of the relics and specifies Theodore’s feast day as the second day of the month of June during the reign of Maximian and Maximinus, as well as recording a long conversation between the saint and Berenikés/Brinkas, the senekapet.'°? Whether or not Uxtanés was personally responsible for the redaction is impossible to determine.
The second chapter to show knowledge of contemporary religious culture in Sebasteia clearly reflects the direct input of Uxtanés. Chapter 61 is devoted to the Forty Martyrs of Sebasteia.'’® As recounted by Uxtanés, the emperor Licinius tried to force Christians to worship idols in the district of Cappadocia, ‘in the t‘emn [theme] of T‘ewlaxunék‘ and Anatolikon and Charsianon and Armeniakon and Dazimon’. The Christians for their part sought refuge in remote locations around Sebasteia, some in Melesitn, a fortress in the mountains, others going to Taxalasun, a mountain, and others to the region of Tiwknoc’. None of these sites are known, but they attest precise local knowledge on the part of the author. At the site of the ensuing massacre numerous churches were built, and Uxtanés reveals that this was called Ekelec‘ajor, ‘Valley of Churches’. The Forty Martyrs were soldiers who refused to carry out the order of Licinius. They fled to a cave on the banks of the river Halys, a strongpoint ‘which now is a settlement, called Vahan the Brave, and still serves as a place of refuge for the saints; the names of each one are written on stone tablets and the symbol of victory, the Cross has been carved onto the stone columns’.''' When Licinius heard, he ordered the duk‘s, the military commander, and the datawor, judge, who were in the city of Sebasteia to search for the Forty, and when they found them to torture them to death. Uxtanés notes that they were extracted from their refuge and taken to Sebasteia on the fifteenth day of the month of areg, ‘which we have appointed as the day of the festival of the Holy Forty, not casually but after some scholars had made careful examination, and we have decreed to celebrate [that day] every year in our diocese in perpetuity to the glory of God’.''* Uxtanés also reveals that he had examined the matter and discovered that their torments had begun on this day, and they were martyred on 9 March, the day established by the holy fathers and the day when he had celebrated, and would continue to celebrate, their festival, along with the whole orthodox church, although he does not tell us where this took place. The narrative concludes with an extract from the homily dedicated to the Forty Martyrs of Sebasteia composed by ‘the blessed Barsel’, St Basil of Caesarea.'!*
This long chapter therefore provides vital insight into local religious topography and memorialization. It indicates that Uxtanés was indeed the bishop of Sebasteia at the time of composition, and that one of the issues he had been confronted with was where and when to celebrate the feast day of the Forty Martyrs, the most famous local saints. Promoting the commemoration of the arrest of the Forty on the banks of the river Halys on a day appointed by Uxtanés, rather than at the site of their martyrdom in Sebasteia on the wellknown feast day, suggests that Uxtanés and his flock of Armenian Christians did not have access to this well-known pilgrimage site. Uxtanés therefore advanced the claims of this alternative site, while at the same time recognizing the popularity of the original. Rather unexpectedly, therefore, Uxtanés’ History reveals a significant amount of information about local religious practice in and around late tenth-century Sebasteia, from the perspective of an orthodox Armenian bishop, and the challenges of both acknowledging local cults and festivals and developing distinctive ways of celebrating them.
The final twenty-one chapters (56-76) present a more complicated picture.'!* They are focused on the mass of traditions surrounding the reign of Trdat and the activities of St Grigor. Rather than plotting a singular path, it seems that Uxtanés resolved to include them all, even when this produced confusion and repetition. Extracts from Xorenac‘i’s History and the Anonymous Chronicle sit alongside passages selected from the History of Taron, the History of Agat‘angelos, the Armenian Life of Sylvester, and the lost History of Sapuh Bagratuni.''° It is, however, the exploitation of the History of Taron which merits further comment, for as argued earlier, this work was composed in the aftermath of the annexation of Tar6n in 966/7. Since Uxtanés was writing his History in the 980s, the History of Taron must have been circulating very soon after its composition, although it is impossible to know whether there was direct contact between Sebasteia and the monastery of Glak in Innaknean or indirect contact through a third party. It may be that Uxtanés found, or otherwise obtained, this text in the library of the Catholicosate at Argina, since we know that he was there on at least one occasion and that he exploited the Girk* TTt‘oc‘ for book II of his History. Although the exact circumstances are unknown, and probably unknowable, it is clear that the History of Taron was available in some form to Uxtanés, and that he was unsure quite what to make of its evidence when it conflicted with his other authorities. In 1.76 he preferred the testimony of Movsés Xorenac‘i on the identity of the emperor who crowned Trdat.'!® But we should note that this did not deter him from incorporating other extracts from the History of Taron.'!”
In light of the above, it is clear that the Universal History of Step‘anos TarOnec‘i was composed in a contemporary historiographical context which was more vibrant and more varied than has previously been acknowledged. The two surviving expressions of historical literature from Vaspurakan, one of the continuations of T‘ovma Arcruni’s History and the History of the Anonymous Story-Teller, attest a strongly Persianate cultural milieu. Armenian princes feature in these works, but they tend to do so in relationship with caliphs, governors, and emirs, looking east and south. By contrast, the History of Taron and Uxtanés’ History originated in parts of western Armenia under Byzantine control, and articulate different responses to those changed circumstances.
The History of Taron offers a new account of the mission of St Grigor the Illuminator and the conversion of Armenia, one in which the primacy of the monastery of Glak at Innaknean and the oversight of the metropolitan of Caesarea are stressed. The lack of hostility to the Roman Empire and the Imperial church is striking, and suggests a willingness to work within the transformed political and religious landscape. Uxtanés, on the other hand, reveals a degree of antipathy towards the Roman Empire through the first book of his History. The reigns of individual emperors are presented in terms of the persecution and martyrdom of Christians or the emergence of heterodox beliefs. Of course, these passages derive ultimately from Eusebius’ Ecclesiastical History via the Anonymous Chronicle, and one could argue that Uxtanés used these extracts for exclusively chronological purposes. Yet, when viewed in the light of the anti-Chalcedonian tone of book II—and the specific association of doctrinal error with the Romans, noted earlier—it seems that Uxtanés was inviting his audience to view contemporary Romans in the same way, as persecutors of the faithful who permitted heresies to flourish and who were themselves heterodox. Whilst the author of the History of Taron projected a past characterized by peaceful interaction between Roman and Armenian Christians, Uxtanés presented an alternative vision of RomanArmenian relations, of past repression and doctrinal tension. Although there is no evidence of direct relationship between the Universal History and any one of these four texts, nevertheless it has a degree of proximity to each of them, reflecting its compilation in a contemporary cultural milieu. Let us now turn to examine the Universal History itself in detail.
STRUCTURE, CONTENT, PURPOSE
The Universal History addresses the whole of human history, from Creation down to the year 1004/5 cz. It is divided into three books of unequal length, each of which is further subdivided into chapters. Book I extends in time from ‘our forefather Adam’ until the accession of king Trdat, and comprises five chapters.'!* Book II covers the period from the reign of king Trdat and ‘our second father and the first illuminator of us Armenians’, that is, Grigor the Illuminator, down to the ‘second restoration of this kingdom of Armenia’ which took place when ASot I Bagratuni was crowned king on 26 August 884, after a hiatus of four and a half centuries; it is divided into six chapters.'’® Book III records events from then until the year 1004/5; it extends over forty-eight chapters, plus a separate, and highly informative, conclusion.'*° Step‘anos has therefore structured world time around the two most significant events in Armenian history, at least in his eyes: the conversion of Armenia at the start of the fourth century and the restoration of the kingdom at the end of the ninth century. These events impart additional meaning to his tripartite division. Far from being random breaks, Step‘anos planned them, recognizing the sweep of world history but organizing it by reference to Armenian tradition.
There are two further indicators of careful preparation on the part of Step‘anos. Although the division into three books is hardly new in Armenian historical writing, having been employed by Movsés Xorenacii in his own History of Armenia, Step‘anos seems to be the first Armenian author to have considered the internal structure of his composition and the relative dimensions of the sections. Book I comprises almost exactly one-sixth of the whole, book II one-third, and book III one-half. The books seem to be in proportion to one another, and in inverse proportion to their chronological scope. No previous work of Armenian historical writing gives any indication of having been planned in this way. Secondly, it is clear that the opening and closing passages of each book have been crafted very deliberately by Step‘anos. By way of illustration, these afforded him the opportunity to list his sources (I.1), to ruminate on the passage of time and the role of divine Providence in human history (III.1), and to address his sponsor, catholicos Sargis, and all future readers (III.Conclusion).'*! In other words, Step‘anos exploited these points of transition, these interstices in an ongoing chronological exegesis of world history, to reflect on his own craft as a historian. As we shall see later, these passages therefore hold particular value as expressions of intent and wider purpose on the part of Step‘anos, giving us valuable insight into the mind of the author. For the moment, however, it is their location which is striking, attesting an awareness of the value of order and structure in a historical composition focused on relative and absolute chronologies, relegating personal statements of ambition and means to the margins of the composition. From the outset, Step‘anos emerges as someone who adopted a highly structured approach to the past, who planned the whole work, and who finished it— although not entirely to his satisfaction it seems, judging from his comments in the Conclusion—before handing it over to Sargis.'”*
Before considering the purposes of the work as a whole, the structure and contents of each book will be analysed. Hitherto, the first two books have been treated as less significant, and in narrative terms this is undeniable. They are composite, largely—although not entirely—made up of extracts from known sources. But this does not mean that they are without value. Philologists have compared the extracts with earlier Armenian texts which have survived only in later manuscripts, although it must be admitted that this comparative approach works less well in circumstances where the compiler has adapted the original. As we shall see, Step‘anos was not averse to making his own revisions. Scholars of Armenian linguistics have studied the manuscripts for evidence of lexical and orthographical shifts. Historians, however, have been reluctant to engage with them, preferring to concentrate on book III. Yet the first two books allow us to study Step‘anos at work, the editorial decisions he took when selecting material for inclusion and how he fitted them together.
Alterations and additions reveal how Step‘anos further shaped his material. It is only with the benefit of these insights into the editorial process that it becomes possible to analyse the construction of book III, previously hidden from view by virtue of the dearth of extant underlying sources and the silence of Step‘anos on this subject.
Book I: The Distant Past—Abraham to Trdat
The opening to book I is instructive. It associates the literary legacy of the poets and orators of the Armenians and other peoples with the books of the Old Testament written by the prophets, starting with Moses. This implies equality of achievement and spiritual discernment between the two groups, which is a bold claim. It also legitimizes Step‘anos’ own undertaking, ‘giving testimonies for those that are to come of things that have taken place, adopting a scholarly approach...’.'?* Having named Old Testament authors and mentioned Josephus in passing, Step‘anos then commends those blessed ‘with intelligence who recorded through written compositions the names and times of kings and all the contemporary matters which were worthy of recollection’.'** Step‘anos highlights Eusebius Pamphili as ¢Smarit t‘uotn Zamanakac’, the true calculator of time, describing the chronological scope of Eusebius’ Chronicle as extending from Adam and Eve’s banishment from the Garden of Eden to the Vicennalia of Constantine I.!”° Such extravagant praise for Eusebius is both striking and informative, for it provides the first evidence of Step‘anos’ particular interest in, and attention to, chronology. Both parts of Eusebius’ Chronicle—the Chronographia, comprising an ancillary collection of raw chronological data, and the Chronological Canons, the tables which presented the results of Eusebius’ research in an innovative and accessible form—had been translated into Armenian, arguably at an early date.'”° Several previous Armenian historians—including Movsés Xorenac‘i, the author of the Anonymous Chronicle, T‘ovma Arcruni, Yovhannés Drasxanakertc‘i, Movsés Dasxuranc‘i, and most recently, Uxtanés—had sought to graft Armenian tradition onto world history. But only the Anonymous Chronicle and Uxtanés had shown any interest in establishing chronological precision from Creation onwards, and as noted above, Uxtanés was dependent upon the Anonymous Chronicle for his sequence of Roman emperors, fusing seventeen extracts from that work with passages from the History of Movsés Xorenacii. And even Uxtanés only followed this pattern in book I of his History, to the reigns of Constantine I and Trdat in the early fourth century. Step‘anos, however, kept rigorously to his chronological brief throughout his composition. This eulogy to Eusebius, therefore, is more than mere convention. It expresses an affinity on the part of Step‘anos for a fellow calculator of time, as well as generating the chronographical context in which Step‘anos wished to situate his own composition. Time was central to Step‘anos’ historical vision, as his Universal History demonstrates. This is one important dimension which sets him apart from earlier Armenian historians.
Before embarking on his chronology of human history, however, Step‘anos lists previous Armenian historians whose works he has consulted. His sequence begins first and foremost with Agat‘angelos, before moving on to ‘the great Movsés, equal to Eusebius, who is named the father of literature’.'”” Step‘anos exploited the History of Movsés Xorenac‘i extensively in four chapters—L.4, 1.5, II.1, and III.2—and it is clear that Movsés’ high reputation had already been established by the start of the tenth century, judging by the similar epithets applied to him by T‘ovma Arcruni and Movsés Dasxuranc‘i.'”* Intriguingly, neither of these authors equated Movsés with Eusebius in this manner, suggesting that this was Step‘anos’ own opinion. Step‘anos then lists the Histories of vardapet Etisé, Lazar P‘arpec'i, and P‘awstos Biwzand, the History of Heraclius, ‘said to be by bishop Sebéos’, the History of Lewond, and lastly, ‘in more recent days’, the Histories of Sapuh Bagratuni and lord Yovhannés, catholicos of Armenia.'? He adds the following:
Now having selected from all of these, like [picking] delightful flowers, pleasing to the eye with very beautiful colours and sweetly scented, from far-stretched plains and mountain valleys, I have brought and offer [this] as a present to your God-loving person and your inquisitive intellect, being obliged by your compelling order, O most learned one among scholars, with a divinely adorned and virtue-covered brilliance, honoured above all, Lord Sargis.'*°
In this way, Step‘anos is asserting that his work is a compilation of extracts from all of the works he has cited. Careful textual analysis across books I and II and book III.1-6 confirms that this is indeed the case, and passages from all these texts do feature. Admittedly, not all the earlier works contribute equally.
Elisé’s History is cited just once, at the opening of II.2, whereas the History of Yovhannés Drasxanakertc’i was used extensively across books II and III, but in a work of universal history this is only to be expected, given the narrow chronological focus of the first and the broad sweep of the second.'*’ On the other hand, Step‘anos does not include the Anonymous Chronicle in this list. This is surprising, because it seems to underlie several passages in I.1 and 1.3. Indeed, at one point in I.1 Step‘anos refers to a subtotal calculated by ‘Origen and Anania Sirakac‘i’, implying that he was familiar with the Anonymous Chronicle and its association with Anania.'** Quite why Step‘anos did not include Anania in his list of Armenian historians is probably never going to be resolved, but it is worth pointing out that he was no more forthcoming about his sources for II.5-6 or from III.6 onwards. One line of argument would be to propose that substantial parts of book I derive from the lost History of Sapuh Bagratuni. Admittedly, there is some circumstantial evidence to suggest that this composition concluded with the coronation of Asot I Bagratuni in August 884, and it evidently had an interest in royal history.'*’ In the preface to his own History, Yovhannés Drasxanakertc‘i referred to this event and the renewal of the kingdom, noting in the next sentence that Sapuh the historian had written about life and deeds of Agot.'°* Yovhannés also commended Sapuh’s History again shortly after his description of Agot’s coronation.'*° Furthermore, the substantial passage from that work cited by Uxtanés at the end of book I of his History records several traditions surrounding the transmission of the crown of David, king of Israel, via the Sasanian Sahansah Sapuh I to Constantine I.'*° So it is possible that Step‘anos exploited Sapuh’s History far more than has previously been acknowledged, even that it may have influenced the chronological scope of the first two books of the Universal History, recalling that book I concludes with the accession of Trdat and book II with the restoration of an Armenian royal line through the coronation of ASot. But unless and until a copy of Sapuh’s lost History turns up, the relationship between that text and the Universal History will remain opaque.
This list of Armenian authors prompts one broader observation. With the exception of Sapuh’s lost History, the body of historical texts recorded by Step‘anos has been transmitted to the present day. Yet it is by no means a full list of extant medieval Armenian historical compositions. It lacks the Histories of T‘ovma Arcruni, Movsés Dasxuranci, and any reflection of the Siwnian past which would later be preserved by Step‘annos Orbélean.'*” The historical traditions of Vaspurakan, Aluank’, and Siwnik‘ do not feature in the list of authorities provided by Step‘anos. As a result, the representation of Armenia by Step‘anos in the Universal History is more limited than historic or contemporary circumstances warranted. Focusing on the royal lines of Arsakuni and then Bagratuni kings, together with the sequence of catholicoi of Armenia, had the effect of reducing or curtailing the definition of Armenia, excluding those royal dynasties who were not Bagratuni and those ecclesiastical leaders who were not aligned doctrinally, or arraigned beneath the headship of, the catholicos. Thus the expression of ‘Armenian’ identity provided by the Universal History was carefully crafted by Step‘anos, perhaps more artfully than has been appreciated. As outlined further in the conclusion, this had an impact on the construction of Armenian historical memory.
Following these preliminary comments by Step‘anos, the chronological survey begins. The remainder of chapter 1 calculates the passage of time from the seventy-fifth year of Abraham through the line of the patriarchs to the Exodus under Moses; and from the Exodus through the sequence of judges and then kings until the construction of the Temple under Solomon in Jerusalem; and then the line of the kings of Judah until the fall of Jerusalem and the Babylonian captivity under Nebuchadnezzar; and from the release and return under Cyrus and the sequence of Achaemenid kings of Persia until their destruction at the hands of Alexander the Great. Chapter 2 is much shorter, and describes the sequence of Ptolemaic kings of Egypt from the death of Alexander to Cleopatra, Julius Caesar, and the nineteenth year of Tiberius, identified as the year of the Crucifixion. Chapter 3, however, reverts back in time to the sequence of Jewish high priests during the reign of Cyrus and the restoration of the Temple under Zerubbabel. It extends down to the capture of Jerusalem by Pompey, the reign of Herod, the birth and Passion of Jesus Christ, the destruction of Jerusalem by Vespasian, and a sequence of Roman emperors to the twentieth year of Constantine I, the original conclusion of Eusebius’ Chronicle. Chapter 4 also moves backwards, to the descent from Noah’s sons, the kings of Assyria from Ninos, the kings of Media, and (for a second time) the Achaemenid kings of Persia. After reporting the death of Alexander, the chapter moves swiftly across Ptolemaic and Seleucid history down to the emergence of Arsak the Brave, the progenitor of the Parthian dynasty. Having observed that Argak the Great, the grandson of Arsak the Brave, appointed his brother VatarSak as king over this country of Armenia, the chapter lists the sequence of Parthian kings down to their demise at the hands of Artasir Stahrac‘i, the son of Sasan. In contrast, chapter 5 is relatively straightforward in terms of content and origin, being a study of the Armenian royal line from the Parthian era to the accession of Trdat. This is based almost entirely upon extracts from book II of the History of Movsés Xorenac‘i. The final entry acknowledges this, by noting that “everything from the reign of Arak the Brave until this point has been said by the great historian Movsés Tarénec'i, bishop of Bagrewand and Argarunik’.'°* The chapter then ends with a statement that the ‘death of Xosrov, king of Armenia, is the end of our book’.
The fusion of Old Testament sequences of patriarchs and kings with Persian, Egyptian, and then Roman rulers over the first two chapters supplies the simplest complete chronological framework for a world history, with the major moments of transition being the release of the Jews from captivity in Babylon, the death of Alexander the Great, and the death of Cleopatra. In chronological terms, it would have been easiest for Step‘anos to continue the Roman imperial sequence begun at the end of I.2.’°” This, however, would have prevented him from fulfilling two other purposes. Firstly, Step‘anos included a sequence of Jewish high priests, as quasi-leaders of their people, at the opening of I.3, not because it afforded further chronological detail or precision—indeed quite the reverse, because the first eleven figures are not given specific years—but rather because it prefigured and justified the subsequent use of Armenian catholicoi in II.2 as a legitimate sequence.'*° Secondly, the bare chronological framework established in the first two chapters did not intersect directly with ancient Armenian royal tradition. It was to address this need that I.4 retreated back in time, to the emergence of the Parthian dynasty, because the Arsakuni kings were descended, or came to be represented as descending, from the Parthian dynasty. In summary, therefore, the first two chapters sought to establish a universal chronology, extending from the time of Adam to the Crucifixion, while chapters 3 and 4 introduced themes of religious leadership and Armenian kingship. These were developed across the remainder of the Universal History.
It is, however, a far bigger challenge to establish what source or sources Step‘anos had in front of him. Having praised Eusebius as the ‘true calculator of time’, one might have supposed that Step‘anos would have exploited his Chronicle directly and faithfully, whether through the collection of materials preserved in the Chronographia or the Chronological Canons themselves. Unfortunately, the situation is not as simple as that. For when the mass of chronographical material preserved in the first four chapters of book I is analysed, it is found to reflect a range of relationships with Eusebius’ great work. Some of the extracts appear to have been lifted almost verbatim from the Chronographia; others have been expanded through the insertion of short sentences or comments usually taken from the margins of the Chronological Canons; others seem to comprise compilations of notices taken from the Canons themselves; yet other passages, notably the running sub-totals, have been substantially revised. We should also acknowledge that some passages seem to be more closely related to the contents of the Anonymous Chronicle than to Eusebius’ Chronicle. Since that composition also draws extensively on Eusebius’ Chronicle, it is often difficult to distinguish between passages which may have been lifted directly from that work and those which have been transmitted through the intermediate Anonymous Chronicle. Moreover, we should not ignore the possibility that some or all of the material in these four chapters may have been transmitted through other intermediate texts now lost to us. And this is without considering excisions or alterations made in the course of transmission. These issues have conspired to make it a daunting, and probably impossible, task to try and disentangle the various strands and determine with any confidence what text or texts may have been available to Step‘anos.
By way of illustration, let us turn back to chapter 1. The opening chronological section, considering the sequence from the seventy-fifth year of Abraham to the time of the Exodus, is most closely related to a passage from the Chronographia.'*! The descent through Levi rather than Joseph distinguishes it from the Chronological Canons, but the name of the mother of Moses, Jochebed, is not given by Eusebius and so is a later gloss, possibly by Step‘anos himself. Although the figure of 505 years is given by Eusebius, the total number of years from Adam to the Exodus is given as 3809 by Step‘anos but 3689 by Eusebius.'*? The following passage records that the Exodus took place on day 13 of the month of Nisan in the year 3809; there is no discussion of this in Eusebius’ composition.'** Step‘anos then moves on to consider the much-contested period of time between the Exodus and the construction of the Temple by Solomon. He refers approvingly to Origen and Anania Sirakac‘i, and then constructs a sequence from Moses to Solomon which is based on a passage in the Chronographia but with two additional entries inserted.'** One was lifted from a separate version of that sequence in the Chronographia, but the other seems to come from the Chronological Canons.'*° A series of notices follows, all of which have been extracted from the Chronographia although the names of Saul’s three sons are given only by Step‘anos. And this blend, of extracts from both parts of Eusebius’ composition which have been revised or interpolated an unknown number of times, is representative of the first four chapters of book I.
When we turn to the final section of I.1 and the sequence of Achaemenid kings of Persia from Cyrus to Darius III we encounter a different set of challenges.'*° On this occasion, the sequence, and the isolated notices of Jewish history inserted into it, finds its closest analogue in the Anonymous Chronicle, although its information had in turn been derived from the Chronological Canons.” Three of the Persian kings receive Armenian calques of their original Greek epithets: Artasés Erkaynajern is Artaxerses I Makrokeir, in Latin Longimanus; Dareh Xort‘ is Darius II Nothus; and Artasés Usel is Artaxerxes II Mnemon. Yet a second sequence of the Achaemenid kings appears in 1.4, and it is immediately clear that this is unrelated to the first.'*® It lacks the Jewish notices, omits a number of short-lived figures, and identifies Artaxerxes I as Artasés Erkaynabazuk, a different rendering of Makrokeir in Armenian. Darius II is identified as Dareh Harcordin, again a variant rendition. The repetition of the sequence is necessary because it introduces Alexander the Great and then Ptolemaic and Seleucid history, the backdrop for the emergence of the Parthians and hence the Armenian royal line. This does not, however, tell us why Step‘anos chose to use a different, and in chronological terms contradictory, sequence.
If we take a step back from the ebb and flow of correspondence and dissonance between these texts, two features stand out. Step‘anos—or his underlying source—seems to have had an interest in addressing those disputed or contentious calculations which depended on biblical exegesis. For while the first four chapters of book I set out a substantial amount of chronological data without comment as to its accuracy, there are six passages inserted into the chronologies which comment on biblical evidence, both when this is unclear— such as the number of years Saul and Samuel were in power—and when this is prophetic in character—Jeremiah’s seventy years of exile in Babylon or Daniel’s sixty-nine weeks of years.'*? This interest in the relationship between world time and biblical prophecy was not original; all of the extracts derive from Eusebius’ Chronicle, although at least one of them was mediated through the Anonymous Chronicle. Their inclusion, however, is significant because it suggests that Step‘anos was aware of a relationship between the chronological progression of human history and God’s future plan for the world, as expressed in biblical prophecy. Secondly, it is clear that Step‘anos undertook his own chronological calculations. Individual subtotals are scattered throughout the first four chapters.'°° On three separate occasions in the first two chapters, Step‘anos supplies a chronological summary. Two give partial or incomplete breakdowns, but the third, at the end of 1.2, offers a complete survey of world time, using the breakdown at the end of the Chronological Canons as a template.'°' It shows an awareness of Eusebius’ own total, that there were 5228 years from Adam until the fifteenth year of Tiberius, the start of Jesus’ ministry, although this figure has been amended to 5232 years in order to recalibrate to the year of the Crucifixion, which Step‘anos avers happened in the nineteenth year of Tiberius. But despite his earlier eulogizing of Eusebius as ‘the true calculator of time’, Step‘anos did not treat this as his base figure but preferred to make his own calculation for the period of time which had elapsed between Adam and the Crucifixion. The total he gives is 5310 years, an increase of seventy-eight years on that supplied by Eusebius. Step‘anos used his own figure in two subsequent synchronisms, one in II.6 defining the date of the return of the True Cross during the reign of Heraclius, and the other in the Conclusion to book III establishing the date when he completed the Universal History.'°* Unlike Uxtanés, Step‘anos was personally involved in chronological computation. While Uxtanés inserted extracts from the Anonymous Chronicle into his book I without comment or alteration, Step‘anos presented his own figures for the sum of human history.
As noted earlier, I.5 comprises a survey of Arsakuni history, from Valarsak, brother of Arsak the Great, to the reign of Trdat, derived almost exclusively from book II of the History of Movsés Xorenac‘i. This summary is independent of the synopsis provided by Uxtanés in book I of his History. Although both Uxtanés and Step‘anos exploited the same source, they did so individually. Step‘anos did not rely on Uxtanés’ work, and shows no direct knowledge of that text. Nevertheless, both works display a similar attitude towards Armenian engagement with ‘western’ and then Roman interests. Valarsak, for example, is portrayed by Step‘anos gathering his forces and marching to the borders of Chaldea, a district whose name would later be preserved as a Byzantine theme.'*? He encountered his opponent Morp‘olik near the summit of the hill of Koloneia, defeated him, and subjugated the lands which he had seized, bordering Mazak—the Armenian name for Caesarea in Cappadocia—and Pontus.
Although this can be read as a straightforward summary, one can also make a case for this story being formative, Step‘anos commenting on the present by using the past to establish a territorial definition of Armenia which included districts and lands far to the west, as well as a relationship with Greeks and then Romans characterized by mutual suspicion, conflict, and oppression. Vatarsak’s grandson Artasés marched to the west against Croesus, king of Lydia, and ‘reduced to submission the continent between the two seas...intending to subdue the whole west’.'** Tigran, his son, went out against the forces of the Greeks ‘who had rushed to invade this country of ours’, and defeated them, entrusting Caesarea and the care of Asia Minor to his brother-in-law Mithridates.'°° Subsequently Arjam gave tribute to the Romans for Mesopotamia and the regions of Caesarea; ‘this was the beginning of part of Armenia entering under tribute to the Romans’.'°° Later on, during the reigns of Vespasian and Titus, Eruand conceded Mesopotamia to the Romans entirely and also paid a heavy tribute for Armenia.’°’ Admittedly, this relationship is only one of the dimensions to the distant Armenian past explored across the chapter—it also contemplates the actions of kings of Armenia and their regnal years, religious practices, and even boundary-marking—but the engagement with, and antagonism and hostility towards, the west, and by implication the Romans, is consistent.
Within this mass of Xorenac’i-derived material there is one intriguing exception. Having reported the correspondence between Abgar and Jesus— in much briefer detail than Uxtanés—Step‘anos notes that the painting with the Saviour’s appearance was kept in Edessa ‘until the days of Nikephoros the king of the Greeks; he had it transported under the control of the metropolitan Abraham to Constantinople’.’°* Movsés’ original text had stated that the image was in Edessa ‘up until today’, but Step‘anos was aware of the recovery of the Mandylion in the middle of the tenth century and evidently felt compelled to update the notice to reflect the current location of the image.'° Step‘anos is mistaken in his attribution to Nikephoros II Phokas, for it was in the final year of the reign of Romanos I Lecapenos that the Mandylion was translated to Constantinople, arriving in the city on the evening of 15 August 944.'° It is possible that he may have confused this episode with the recovery of the Keramidion, the Holy Tile, from Hierapolis in October 966, during the reign of Nikephoros II. Moreover, it is striking that Leo the Deacon maintained in his History that the Keramidion had been recovered from Edessa.'®! But Step‘anos’ passing remark that the image was transported to Constantinople under the control of metropolitan Abraham is corroborated by the contemporary Narratio de imagine Edessena, a work either written or commissioned by the emperor Constantine VII Porphyrogenitus. The Narratio records that Romanos sent the God-fearing bishop of Samosata, Abramios, to find and take possession of the genuine image, and he escorted it back to Constantinople.'®* Through this previously unheralded notice, Step‘anos confirms that he had knowledge of the recent translation of holy relics to Constantinople. What he does not tell us is how he came by this information.
Book II: The Armenian Past—Trdat to ASot I Bagratuni
The opening sentences of book II are surprisingly informative. Rather than outlining the future direction of the work, they comment on the structure of the previous book. As such, they articulate, in Step‘anos’ own words, what he considered its main characteristics to be.'°? He emphasizes that it is complete, since it begins with our forefather Adam. Although Adam’s departure from the Garden is noted in I.1, this comment is in tension with the stated chronological starting-point, the seventy-fifth year of Abraham.'® This feature has been noted by Malxaseanc‘ and other commentators, who argued for a lacuna at the start of I.1.'°° Secondly, Step‘anos seems keen to stress that it is a succinct but complete summary, which is true, but also ‘an abridgement of the divine Scriptures’, which is only partially true, given the debt to Eusebius’ Chronicle discussed earlier. Thirdly, Step‘anos observes that he has noted the times and dates precisely, confirming that this is a defining feature of his work, one that has particular importance for him.
Step‘anos then set out the contents of book IL. Starting with Grigor the Illuminator, he refers to a sequence ‘down to our own times’, and this can only be the sequence of catholicoi or heads of the Armenian Church.'® Step‘anos then refers to the sequence of Arsakuni kings until their suppression; the princes down to the kingship of the Bagratunik‘; the Sasanian kings of Persia down to their extinction, and the Amir al-Mumnik‘, the Armenian transliteration of amir al-mu’minim, the title ‘Commander of the Faithful’ accorded to caliphs.'®” This is an accurate description of the first four chapters of book II, in the correct sequence, but it omits the final two chapters: IL.5 comprises a second, variant list of caliphs, while II.6 preserves a sequence of Roman emperors from Diocletian to Basil I. As II.4 advances the caliphal sequence only to the accession of Harti al-Rashid, one could suggest that the following chapter was needed to extend the sequence into the second half of the ninth century, but even this is not wholly satisfactory, because the latest figure in the second list, Ahmad, appears to be Ahmad b. al-Khasib, the wazir appointed by the caliph al-Muntasir following his accession in late 861, rather than the caliph himself.'°* The absence of any reference in this opening to the imperial sequence in II.6 is also surprising, and we cannot discount the possibility that Step‘anos was relying upon an earlier composition at this point. On the other hand, the final notice of II.2 finds Step‘anos informing the reader that he is now turning to ‘the sequence of kings of Persia, and Amir al-Mumnik‘ of the Arabs and then the emperors of the Greeks so that the scope of the discourse shall be symmetrical’.’°° This notice indicates that these sequences were, or became, integral to Step‘anos’ conception of the Universal History. Their inclusion was planned.
Two further aspects of this introductory passage merit comment. In the first place, Step‘anos stresses that he is interested in how long each of the figures in the sequences held office.'”? This confirms once again his chronological imperative. Indeed, choosing to structure the events around the sequences of Armenian patriarchs and kings (IL.1), Armenian patriarchs and princes (II.2), Sasanian Sahansahs (11.3), caliphs (11.4 and II.5), and emperors of the Greeks (II.6) reveals an organizing principle derived ultimately from Eusebius’ Chronicle. Arguably, Step‘anos himself was responsible for the implicit connections between books I and II. Chapter II.1 picks up from where I.5 ends and extends through II.2; II.3 continues from where 1.4 left off, with the accession of Artasir Stahrac‘i, the son of Sasan; II.4 and 5 are new sequences, but II.6 opens with the actions of Trdat during the reign of Diocletian, and so develops the imperial sequence which terminated at the end of 1.3 with the twentieth year of Constantine I. The second element of note occurs in the next phrases. Step‘anos indicates that the narrative to come will include ‘whatever valiant deeds were accomplished by brave men in their days, all the ascetics, those who were glorified through God, and which vardapets appeared in which times, as famous orators or poets...’.'”' The selection of prominent ascetics, martyrs, theologians, and scholars for inclusion in his composition is striking. Not only does it reflect the character of many of the marginal comments of Eusebius’ Chronological Canons; it also expresses something of Step‘anos’ deeper purposes for his composition, to establish a history of Armenia which traced both the achievements of Armenian clerical and lay leaders and the saints and intellectuals who flourished during their years in power together with the monastic communities from which they came or which they inspired. Although this aspect of the Universal History has often been noted in respect of book II], it is in fact present throughout book II as well, connecting the two parts.'’” This will be developed later.
Chapter II.1 is constructed predominantly from extracts drawn from the final chapters of book II and the whole of book III of the History of Movsés Xorenac‘i.'”* It records the sequence of Armenian kings and patriarchs down to the deposition of king ArtaSir and the deaths of St Sahak, the deposed head of the Armenian Church, and Mesrop Ma&stoc’, ‘the great vardapet’ who invented the Armenian alphabet. As in the previous chapter, particular attention is paid to chronological precision, although the years accorded to several figures do not always correspond between the texts. By way of illustration, Viam-Sapuh is accorded a reign of twenty-one years by Movsés but only fifteen years by Step‘anos.'”* Moreover, on several occasions Step‘anos reveals that he has undertaken his own chronological research. He tells us that ‘in investigating the first year of Trdat, we have discovered that he became king in the third year of Diocletian and the second year of Sapuh, king of Persia’.!”° Although Movsés Xorenac‘i correlates Trdat’s accession with the third year of Diocletian (287/8 ce), he does not refer to Sapuh, who succeeded Hormizd II in 309.'7° This seems to be a mistake on the part of Step‘anos, correlating the date of Trdat’s accession with the reign of Diocletian but then conflating this with the date of his conversion, correlated with the reign of Sapuh. Elsewhere it was surely Step‘anos who tried to work out the years without a king after the death of Sapuh, son of Yazkert, preferring his own calculation of eleven years to the three-year period proposed by Movsés.'”” And the chronological summary found at the end of the chapter, that the Armenian kingdom of the Argakuni family lasted for 559 years, from the twelfth year of Ptolemy Euergetés II, king of Egypt, until the twenty-fourth year of Theodosios, king of the Greeks, is entirely Step‘anos’ own work.'”® It derives from, and depends upon, chronological data supplied in book I.
Chapter II.1, however, comprises more than an abridgement of the History of Movsés Xorenac‘i mounted on a chronological framework. Step‘anos consulted other works and grafted on his findings. The account of the conversion of Armenia has been supplemented with details of the martyrdoms of the holy women, Hiip‘simé and her companions and Gayiané and her companions, which are found in the A recension of the History of Agat‘angelos.'”” Eight short notices appear to derive from the Epic Histories/Buzandaran. Although only one of these is specifically attributed to that sources, ‘as Biwzand describes’, this is significant, for while Movsés Xorenac‘i also exploited this work repeatedly, he did so without acknowledgement.'*® This makes it less likely that Step‘anos was exploiting a different redaction of Movsés’ History and more likely that he was responsible for making the additions. Two of the eight notices address the issue of consecration in Caesarea, with the first reporting Yusik’s journey to the ‘city of Cappadocia’ for that purpose and the second recording the ending of that tradition, allegedly by Basil, the great patriarch of Caesarea.'*’ The reintroduction of this association with Caesarea is striking, given that Movsés had chosen to exclude it. Four short notices appear to have been lifted from Lazar’s History, including a highly abbreviated summary of the Vision of St Sahak which came to be incorporated into Lazar’s composition but was not originally part of that work.'** Once more, Step‘anos identifies Lazar’s History as one of his sources. Having noted the invention of the Armenian script, Step‘anos adds, ‘as Koriwn and Lazar describe’.'*? Three other features of II.1 merit brief comment. Firstly, the narrative seems to incline towards commenting on the affairs pertaining to western regions of Armenia, with the district of Ekeleac‘ featuring five times and Taron four times. Taron is associated with the Mamikonean house, as well as being the district in which the patriarch Vrt‘anés was situated when king Trdat died, and the birthplace of both catholicos P‘atnerseh and Mastoc’. These notices, therefore, connect significant figures from the Armenian past with these regions, and while it should be stressed that Step‘anos has not invented these associations, his decision to include them appears to reveal his own sympathies. Secondly, the chapter contains a long description of the foundation of Theodosiopolis.'** This is derived entirely from the History of Movsés Xorenaci, but is notable for the minimal abridgement or alteration of the original, unlike almost every other extract from that work. Its inclusion in this near-verbatim form is hard to fathom, given the lack of comment on the origins of Dvin or Ani. Possession of Theodosiopolis was contested throughout the tenth century, falling to Byzantine control in 949 before being granted by Basil II to David of Tayk‘ in 979, in recognition of his role in defeating Bardas Skleros, and then recovered again by Basil II at his death in 1000.'®° Possession of the city held contemporary significance therefore, but it remains unclear why Step‘anos included this passage. Lastly, when describing the controversial succession to the office of catholicos after the death of Sahak the Great, Step‘anos records that one Abdigoy was appointed, a Syrian jakobik, an evil-doer who did not last one year.'®° This is unexpected. Abdi’oy is a corruption of Brk‘iioy, who was indeed one of the Syrian clerics who succeeded Sahak, but it is his identification as a jakobik which is so surprising. Not only is the use of this term anachronistic, since Jacob Baradaeus is a sixth-century figure; it also identifies AbdiSoy as a miaphysite, and so consonant with the confessional position of the Armenian Church in the tenth century, as espoused in the long theological letter preserved in book III. Quite why he should therefore be an evil-doer is therefore a mystery, but it could reflect a lack of knowledge on the part of someone, perhaps a later copyist, as to the meaning of jakobik.
Chapter 2 is the longest of the six chapters in book II. It extends across five and half centuries, from the deaths of Sahak and Mesrop Mastoc‘ in 438 cE to the era of catholicos Géorg and the coronation of ASot I Bagratuni as king of Armenia at the end of the ninth century. It continues the pattern of the previous chapter, tracing the sequence of catholicoi and secular princes of Armenia, with a particular focus on their years in power and noted scholars of the time. The opening notices are based on extracts from Lazar’s History; indeed, the three brothers of Vahan Mamikonean—Vasak, Artasés, and Vard patrik—are named, and this is followed by the comment, ‘about whom Lazar P‘arpecii instructs you’.'*” Lazar’s History was therefore exploited across the final notices of II.1 and the first notices of II.2. When his narrative ended, Step‘anos switched to the History of Yovhannés Drasxanakertc‘i, and that composition seems to have supplied the basic narrative framework for the remainder of the chapter. One substantial extract from the History of Sebéos has been inserted into this narrative.'*® It describes the context in which the draft letter addressed to Constans II defending Armenian orthodoxy was prepared and then cites the first quarter of that letter in full, with minor but significant revisions which shall be discussed later.
A complete assessment of each of the entries in this chapter lies outside the remit of this introduction. Nevertheless, it is instructive to study certain events to which Step‘anos pays particular attention, because these reveal his own interests and purposes. Three passages illustrate this. Firstly, although the battle of Awarayr is reported, it is the precise date of the martyrdom of the holy Lewondeank‘ and the patriarch Yovsép* which seems to have been the main focus of Step‘anos’ interest.'*? He establishes that this occurred on the twenty-sixth day of hrotic’, that is, July, a Sunday, thereby giving both an Armenian and a Julian month. He adds that ‘we have examined thoroughly the years of the kings in relation to this date and we have found that it coincided with the 15th year of Yazkert (Yazdgird II) and the 3rd year of the cursed Marcian’—cursed because it was under his authority that the Council of Chalcedon was summoned. Although Lazar mentions the sixteenth year of Yazkert, the correlation with the Roman emperor seems to be Step‘anos’ own calculation. Secondly, the second Council of Dvin was convened, according to Step‘anos, in the fourth year of the patriarchate of Nersés, the tenth year of the dominion of Mzéz Gnuni, the fourteenth year of the emperor Justinian, and the twenty-fourth year of Xosrov (Khusro I), son of Kawat, king of Persia, the year in which the Armenian Era was instituted.'°° Step‘anos then notes tersely and without further explanation that it was in that year that Armenia separated completely from communion with the Greeks, in 304 of the Greek era, the seventh year of Philip. The balance of this entry in favour of chronological computation over the precise circumstances of ecclesiastical separation again reveals Step‘anos’ own preferences. It is, however, the simultaneous assertion of both temporal and ecclesiological independence which is significant, the one supporting the other in Step‘anos’ reconstruction. Finally, the rebellion of Vardan Mamikonean in 572 was triggered by the killing of the Persian governor Surén, in the forty-first year of Xosrov the Persian king, a date reported by Sebéos. This date is then equated with the seventh year of Justin and a precise date for the murder is proposed, the twenty-second day of the month of areg, which is February, a Tuesday.'*’ Tempting though it has been to use this as an absolute dating for the rebellion, in light of its identical form to the date for the martyrdom of the Lewondeank’, it seems far more likely that this is, once again, a date determined by Step‘anos himself rather than a date recorded in late antiquity and unearthed by Step‘anos from an otherwise unknown source.
Although II.2 is structured around notices extracted from the History of Yovhannés Drasxanakertc‘i, as noted above, it contains one long extract from the History attributed to Sebéos. This describes the fraught relationship between Armenia and the emperor Constans II in the era of the Arab conquests, and the circumstances in which a letter to the emperor defending the Armenian confessional position was drafted; the first quarter of the letter is included. The extract appears to have been lifted from the original text without redaction or abridgement, suggesting that it had particular value for Step‘anos. It has, however, been subjected to several small but highly significant adjustments.
The emperor Constans II is described as advancing into Armenia in great anger, boasting that he would purge it thoroughly; in the original version, Constans II is presented in neutral terms.'”” At the same time, the treachery of T‘€odoros R8tuni, originally interpreted in the History attributed to Sebéos as a pact with death and an alliance with hell, has been recast as a pragmatic response to the Arab raids.'”° It is not criticized by Step‘anos. The contentions that many were offended when the emperor and Nersés II took communion together, and that the azats were treated with contempt on that occasion, are both revisions made, or at least accepted, by Step‘anos.'** The same is true of the observation that the emperor left some of his forces as ‘guardians’ of this country of Armenia; this does not feature in the original. Finally, the catholicos Nersés III is presented by Step‘anos as pious, Christ-loving, and truthrelating, leading the Armenian faithful in their opposition to Constans II and Chalcedonian doctrine.'”° In the History attributed to Sebéos, however, Nersés is described as keeping the bitter poison (of endorsing Chalcedon) in his heart, of perverting the true faith of St Grigor, and muddying the pure waters of Armenian orthodoxy.'”° Although incapable of proof, it seems most likely that these revisions reflect the personal opinions of Step‘anos. He was confronted with an emperor, Basil II, who had recently travelled into Armenia and intervened in Armenian affairs, as well as an expanding Imperial Church, with all the challenges and anxieties which this presented. The account of Armenia’s relationship with Constans II and the Imperial Church in the seventh century presented in the Universal History may not offer any new information on the events themselves, but it does show how the past could be reimagined in order to comment upon the present.
Two features of II.2 merit further comment. As discussed earlier, the passage reporting the second Council of Dvin in 553 cz refers to the development of the Armenian Era. This is employed consistently thereafter by Step‘anos, featuring in all four of the remaining chapters of book II and throughout book III, where it is the primary chronological mechanism. The earliest Armenian Era date in the Universal History is 68 ar, identified as the year when Muhammad appeared; in the next sentence, 72 az is identified as the year in which the kingdom of Ismael emerged and this does correlate with the date of the hijra.'*’ It is not clear why Step‘anos attributed a four-year ministry to Muhammad, although it is striking that the same period is identified in book I as the duration of Jesus’ ministry between his Baptism and Crucifixion, from the fifteenth to the nineteenth years of Tiberius. Thereafter the Armenian Era chronology is used regularly to situate events in time, including the succession of catholicoi and princes of Armenia. With one exception, however, these dates do not feature in the History of Yovhannés Drasxanakertc‘i, from which the majority of the passages derive, and it seems that these have been inserted by Step‘anos himself. The solitary exception is provided by the date of the martyrdom of Atom and his six companions in the year 302; this is described by Yovhannés as being the era of T‘orgom, but has been altered to refer to the Armenian Era by Step‘anos.'** It was Step‘anos, therefore, who imparted chronological precision to the Armenian past, using the Armenian Era chronology. This calibration of time is an impressive achievement, enabling Step‘anos to situate key events in ‘Armenian time’, but it should always be remembered that these were calculated by Step‘anos and should not be treated as either contemporary or infallible.
Chapter II.2 also maintains the focus on Armenian saints, martyrs, and intellectuals observed previously. Their achievements, including their feast days and monastic foundations, are woven into the narrative. As observed above, the narrative specifies the exact dates on which the holy Lewondeank‘ were killed in the middle of the fifth century as well as Atom and his six companions in the middle of the ninth century. Step‘anos notes that ‘the great Armenian philosopher Movsés, who introduced the art of rhetoric into Armenia’, was active during the era of catholicos Giwt, as well as the holy ascetic Anton, also known as T“at‘ul, who settled in the place now called Gazanacakk‘ or T“at‘loyvank‘.'°? Reference is made to renowned scholars, such as Yovhan Mayrogomecii, Anania Sirakac‘i, and P‘ilon Tirakac‘i, but there is also space for otherwise unknown figures.*°° Who was Ezras Angelac‘i, for instance, and how did he expand the ranks of orators, apparently at the start of the sixth century?*°! Collectively, however, these passages supplement the sequences of lay and clerical leaders, enabling the Armenian past to be populated with spiritual and scholarly champions as well.
As noted previously, the final entry of II.2 introduces the remaining chapters in book II, demonstrating that they were indeed planned by Step‘anos. Chapter II.3 contains a sequence of Sasanian kings of Persia from Artasir to Yazkert III. It therefore connects directly with the final notice in 1.4, announcing the accession of Artasir.*°* It comprises two parts, a freestanding list of rulers and their years in office and then from Khusro I, a series of extracts from the History attributed to Sebéos.*°° Although the Anonymous Chronicle also contains such a list of rulers, the two are not related. The sequence included by Step‘anos is incomplete, omitting both short-lived and more established figures, and the regnal years allocated are also different. The extracts derived from the History attributed to Sebéos are frequently verbatim. Two features stand out. In the first place, there is a significant lacuna in this chapter, probably amounting to one folio, and common to all the manuscripts.” Malxaseanc’ elected to fill the gap with his own reconstruction, made up of extracts from the History attributed to Sebéos and additional details derived from T‘ovma Arcruni’s History.”°° Manukyan, however, preferred to highlight the lacuna without attempting to remedy the loss, and this approach is preferable. Secondly, the synchronism at the end of the chapter, establishing the chronological parameters for the Sasanian royal dynasty, was determined by Step‘anos.7°° Similar summaries feature in Eusebius’ Chronological Canons at moments of chronological transition following the conclusion of a dynasty or kingdom, and Step‘anos also included them in book I. In this instance, the duration of the Persian kingdom is orientated around the Roman imperial sequence. Its demise is also established by reference to the Armenian Era, a chronology whose application by Step‘anos was identified earlier.
Chapters II.4 and 5 both advance historical outlines structured around the sequence of caliphs, but they do so in different ways, and the sequences are clearly unrelated to one another. Chapter II.4 opens with a series of extracts from the History attributed to Sebéos, but these have been fused with precisely dated notices derived from the History of Lewond.””” Following a long account of the failed Arab siege of Constantinople in 654, the narrative derives exclusively from Lewond’s History, with the exception of one short notice recording the martyrdom of Vahan Golt‘nac‘i, derived from a separate hagiography.”°* It is clear that Step‘anos had access to the complete texts of both these Histories; the final sentence of the chapter is based on the final sentence in Lewond’s History.*°? Moreover, the extracts which make up II.4 do not appear to have undergone any revision or reinvention, beyond compression and combination. This chapter should therefore be distinguished from the editorial processes observed in respect of II.2, where multiple small but significant revisions to the original narrative were identified, specifically in relation to Constans II, whose actions were given a hostile spin. Although this is not easy to interpret, it could be that the anti-Byzantine tone expressed in Lewond’s History did not require further amendment.”'°
Chapter II.5 is introduced as deriving ‘from another historian’.*"! It comprises, for the most part, a bare list of caliphs and their years, occasionally correlated with an Armenian Era date, down the year 311.7”? The list is deficient, with several prominent Umayyad and ‘Abbasid caliphs being omitted, namely Sulayman, “Umar II, and Hisham among the former and al-Hadi, al-Amin, and al-Wathiq among the latter. Yet it also identifies correctly ‘Uthman as b. ‘Affan, as well as including the little-heralded and short-lived Mu‘awiya b. Yazid. Step‘anos reveals that he was aware of the deficiencies in his list of caliphs by acknowledging that, despite diligent research in previous historical compositions, he had found the names and dates of certain caliphs to be different. This unexpected admission is honest and endearing.*!? He concludes with another chronological summary, defining the time of the caliphs as running from the appearance of Muhammad in Armenian Era 68 until the martyrdom of king Smbat I Bagratuni in Armenian Era 364, although he synchronizes this with the reign of the emperor Leo VI, which is incorrect. Chapters II.1 and II.3 also conclude with a chronological summary, confirming that Step‘anos was responsible for the arrangement of all three chapters. Evidently Step‘anos considered the sequence of caliphs had come to an end at the death of Smbat Bagratuni. He goes on to observe that ‘they themselves divided among themselves and opposed one another. For it was not only those who possessed cities who became tyrants but also those who were princes of minor cities and tyrants of fortresses, they too became bitterly antagonized against one another’.*!* This expresses an awareness on the part of Step‘anos of the general collapse of caliphal authority at the start of the tenth century. The specific association with the death of Smbat Bagratuni, however, appears to be a matter of Step‘anos’ own judgement.
The heading of II.6 states that it comprises ‘the emperors of the Greeks from Constantine to here’.*!? Since it covers the imperial sequence from Constantine until Basil I, ‘here’ for the author of the heading could be understood to mean the late ninth century rather than the early eleventh century and the reign of Basil II. The description of the reign of Constantine I includes three sentences which are proximate to sentences found in the History of Uxtanés.”"* It also contains a brief summary of the transmission of the crown of king David via Nebuchadnezzar and Sapuh to Constantine, ‘as the History of Sapuh Bagratuni teaches us’.*!” Therefore the close correspondences with Uxtanés’ History do not reflect a direct borrowing; rather, they evince a mutual dependence on the History of Sapuh Bagratuni. This exploitation of Sapuh’s History may also explain the multiple correspondences between the first half of this chapter and the synopsis of imperial history preserved in the Anonymous Chronicle, extending from Constantine down to the first year of Justinian II and the first Khazar raid into Armenia.*'* The correspondences are often close, but there are also minor differences, involving the revision, contraction, fusion, and occasionally amplification of original entries in the Anonymous Chronicle, which suggest, once again, an indirect relationship via one or more intermediate compositions. By way of illustration, the emperor Zeno’s lack of self-restraint is mentioned by several authors, but the details reported by Step‘anos in relation to his gluttony and lack of dental hygiene are unique to this chapter and do not appear in the Anonymous Chronicle.*'” The tradition that Maurice came from the village of O’akan in the district of Aragac‘otn, and the conflation of notices concerning Justinian II with Justinian I, are also both unique to the Universal History.*° The content of this sequence down to the end of the seventh century is consistent with the wider aims of Step‘anos observed previously: chronological precision through the imperial series, allied to interest in ecclesiastical history and the achievements of notable scholars in particular. The chapter also contains one key synchronism, establishing the period between the Crucifixion in the nineteenth year of Tiberius and the restoration of the True Cross in the eighteenth year of Heraclius and Armenian Era 77.”*! This is calculated as 595 years, giving a total span from Adam to this date of 5907 years. A similar calculation was made in I.3, stating that the span between the Crucifixion in the nineteenth year of Tiberius and the Council of Nicaea was 291 years. If we deduct 595 from 5907, we obtain a figure of 5312 years, which is close to the annus mundi (i.e. year from the Creation) year calculated in the final entry of 1.2, 5310 years, and some distance away from the total proposed by Eusebius, 5232. In other words, Step‘anos used his revised total rather than the Eusebian figure. These occasional synchronisms knit the individual sections of the Universal History into a single unified whole.
The second part of the sequence extends from the seven years of Justinian Il’s first reign through to the twenty-two years of Basil I.?” Its source is unknown, but it contains two features which serve to distinguish it from the earlier entries and merit comment. In the first place, several of the entries focus on Balkan history, both in terms of conflict with the Bulgars and, more surprisingly, conflict with Thomas the Slav, or “Thomas the corruptor’ as he is called.?”? Although these notices are extremely brief, they are full of precise detail which is otherwise unattested. By way of example, Leo V is reported as building Vize, Arcadiopolis, and Kamazax, all of which were in Thrace, and two of which were associated with the last stand of Thomas the Slav and his supporters.*** In light of the preceding narrative, this is an unexpected direction to take. It becomes less unexpected, however, when it is considered in the context of passages found in book III, especially those later chapters describing the campaigns undertaken against the Bulgars by Basil II and his forces.”*° The second feature is the remarkable attention given to the exploits of the emperor Theophilos in the east, as well as the violent actions of the Hoyromider, that is to say the Khurramiyya (Khurramites), in western Armenia.””° None of these events are dated, and it seems highly likely that separate campaigns have become conflated. Nevertheless this account of the reign of Theophilos offers a mass of unique information. Most significant of all is the rendition of Khurramiyya as Hofomider, for, following Bart‘ikyan, this is a transliterated form of the Greek, with a medieval Armenian plural marker.””” The combination of attention to early ninth-century Balkan history, precise knowledge of the military operations of the emperor Theophilos in the east, and the transliterated form of Khurramiyya support the contention that the underlying source for this sequence was a work of Byzantine imperial history.
The above analysis of the first two books of the Universal History therefore offers crucial insight into the working methods of Step‘anos Tar6nec’i, insight which cannot be gleaned from studying book III. In terms of scope and ambition, Step‘anos was influenced by the Chronicle of Eusebius, fusing together different chronological sequences to produce a world history which measured time precisely, from Creation to the present day. It seems less likely that he consulted this work directly and more likely that he did so via one or more intermediate compositions, including the lost History of Sapuh Bagratuni. The first two books display sustained, systematic chronological precision and coherence. Step‘anos regularly pauses to offer short chronological summaries of his own calculation which link back to an earlier sequence or calculation. He also seems to have been responsible for working out and then applying Armenian Era dates to a wide range of passages across book II. Secondly, the individual chapters appear to be structured around single sources, with works such as the History of Yovhannés Drasxanakertc'i supplying the narrative framework or spine onto which additional notices could be grafted. This breaks down only in chapters 4 and 5 of book II, when Step‘anos admits that he was unable to supply a definitive list of caliphs. Thirdly, at the start of II.1 Step‘anos openly acknowledges his interest in both political and intellectual history, promising to trace ‘whatever valiant deeds were accomplished by brave men in their days, all the ascetics, those who were glorified through God, and which vardapets appeared in which times, as famous orators or poets’.*** This informs the character of book II and prefigures book III. And lastly, Step‘anos was not averse to reshaping the historical record, adapting material as required to suit his purposes or express his opinions. The subtle revisions made to the account of Constans II’s engagement with Armenia in IL2 indicate that Step‘anos was in control of his material, using the past to express his antipathy towards Byzantine engagement with Armenia in the present.
Book III: The Tenth Century—AsSot I Bagratuni to the Present
The table of contents to book III advertises a very different structure.*”? Books I and II contain eleven chapters between them. Book III is subdivided into forty-eight chapters together with a separate Conclusion. It also contains one very long theological letter (III.21), written to the metropolitan bishop of Sebasteia at the command of catholicos Xa¢‘ik in the late 980s.°° This letter fills almost one-third of the book. Yet the difference in internal structure should not be allowed to mask the underlying similarities across the three books. For if we compare the structure, content and purposes of book III with those discerned above in relation to books I and II, we find a striking consistency.
Book III picks up from where IL.2 and II.6, the only ‘open’ chapters in book II, conclude, at the accession of A8ot I Bagratuni as king. It extends the three chronological sequences which gave structure to those chapters: catholicoi of the Armenian Church, from Géorg to Sargis; Bagratuni kings, from Agot I to Gagik I; and Roman emperors, from Basil I to Basil II, although the period of the regency council during the minority of Constantine VII is missing. All three sequences preserve specific chronological information about the number of years in office, stipulating the year in which the individual died in terms of the Armenian Era. The principal date is established in the opening sentences of III.2: ‘the second restoration of this kingdom of Armenia by ASot Bagratuni, which occurred in the days of Basil I king of the Greeks and with his consent, in 336 of the Armenian Era and 888 from the coming of our Saviour Lord God, in the days of lord Géorg, in the 12th year of his patriarchate.’”*! Thereafter all specific dates found in the forty-eight chapters, bar one significant exception highlighted later in this section, are expressed in terms of the Armenian Era. The Conclusion also contains an elaborate synchronism. From a chronological perspective therefore, it is clear that Step‘anos was aware of different systems but elected to employ a single chronology across the recent past. His preference for using the Armenian Era has already been noted previously in relation to book II. This editorial decision supplies chronological coherence and regularity, although we should not infer infallibility as well; Step‘anos took great care in his chronological undertaking but was not immune to error. His calculation that ASot I Bagratuni’s coronation took place in 888 cz, for example, is erroneous, for as observed previously, a contemporary colophon indicates that this occurred on 26 August 884.7** This is very much an exception, however, and where dates are capable of corroboration in book III, Step‘anos is found to be extremely precise. Finally, it is worth noting that III.2 comments on the scope of the previous two books, just as II.1 opens by reflecting on the scope of book I and advertising the structure of book II.’** This too serves to bind the three books together into a single whole.
The underlying sources of book III have long been contested. It is clear that the opening paragraph of chapter 1 is related to the opening paragraph of the first book of Xorenac‘i’s History.7*4 The musings on the Trinity and the threefold division of time—past, present, and future—however, do not derive from that work. This was probably written by Step‘anos himself, for while its philosophical character sets it apart from the two earlier prefaces, it is consistent with the opening phrases of the Conclusion. There is also evidence to show dependence on the History of Yovhannés Drasxanakertc‘i across III.2-6, although the correspondence is sometimes remote and it is clear that Step‘anos also had access to additional information from outside that text. This coincidence with Yovhannés’ composition comes to an end midway through chapter 6. From that point on, and for the remainder of the text, apart from the long theological letter, Step‘anos does not reveal what source or sources he had at his disposal. This is an unexpected development, given the alacrity with which he acknowledged the contribution of earlier writers in books I and II. His reticence on this matter will be considered later.
In these circumstances, we are left with the challenge of recovering putative sources through the structure and contents of book III. It was argued earlier that Step‘anos constructed individual chapters around extracts derived from single sources, creating a chronological and narrative framework into which additional material was then inserted. When we examine book III, we find that it displays a similar approach. Careful analysis reveals that Step‘anos structured book III around extracts from a single text. The surprising aspect is that Step‘anos did not exploit an Armenian composition for this purpose. Instead, he chose to use a work of imperial Byzantine history for his chronological and narrative spine, a work composed in Greek and organized around, and focused on, the deeds of individual emperors, but which has not survived, at least in its original form.”*° Although short, isolated notices from this work appear in chapters 3 and 6, two more substantial extracts appear at the end of III.7 and IIL.8, reporting the imperial sequence and Byzantine actions, first on the eastern frontier and then in Bulgaria.7*° From III.9 onwards the pattern changes, and extracts from this source appear at the start of chapters and even comprise whole chapters. Chapter III.10 is devoted to three episodes from the reign of John Tzimiskes; III.14 and 15 are focused on the first rebellion of Bardas Skleros and its aftermath; III.23-6 are dominated by the second rebellion headed by Bardas Phokas.**” Moreover, they can connect to one another; III.42 picks up from where III.37 leaves off, reporting the death of Damian Dalassenos in July 998.”*° These extracts are characterized by their focus on imperial history, including contested successions and civil war, military campaigns in the east, and campaigns in the Balkans against the Bulgars. They provide the narrative and chronological structure for book III, around which other entries are arranged.
Three specific characteristics support this proposition. In the first place, while the narrative contains many notices which can be corroborated, it also preserves several notices pertaining to Byzantine history which are rare or unique. Chapter III.8 records that Marianos Argyros played a prominent role in the struggle to succeed Romanos II in 963—which is attested by Leo the Deacon—and asserts that he was made emperor, a detail which is not recorded elsewhere.**” Chapter III.25 reports that Basil II was able to capture the fortress of Chrysopolis and relieve the pressure on Constantinople thanks to the treachery of its harbour master, a unique detail.“° And in III.26, the Universal History is alone in reporting that Basil II and his brother Constantine led the final assault against Bardas Phokas, with Basil taking the land route.**! These incidental details do not add to the presentation of Armenian history, and it is hard to envisage how they might have been transmitted other than via a work of Byzantine imperial history. Secondly, there are specific linguistic features which point to a Greek original. Not only is the figure of Kalokyros Delphinas in III.25 identified as Tlp‘inas; in III.44 the figure of Nikephoros Ouranos is called Kanikln, which makes no sense until one appreciates that he had held the office of keeper of the imperial inkstand, éri Tob Kavixdedov, since 982.°4* The confusion between personal name and office is striking. Finally, when recording the ancestry of the Bulgar leader Samuel in III.22, Step‘anos observes that he and his brothers were called Komsajagk’; this is an Armenian calque of the Greek KounzdzovdAo, ‘children of the count’.** These details, when taken collectively, confirm that this underlying imperial history was originally in Greek. Whether it was still in Greek when Step‘anos consulted it, or whether he used an Armenian translation of the work, is much harder to determine.
We will never know for certain why Step‘anos preferred to use such a work of imperial Byzantine history for this purpose. Nevertheless, three contentions may be advanced. In the first place, it has already been observed that books I and II contain imperial sequences, at I.3 and II.6. Indeed, all of the features noted above occur in the second imperial sequence exploited in II.6, suggesting either that these Byzantine notices were all drawn from the same work or that Step‘anos used different sources in the same way and to the same purpose. Exploiting such a work for book III therefore afforded a degree of coherence across the whole composition. Secondly, for book III to function as a component part of a Universal History, it needed to present a supra-Armenian dimension, situating Armenian affairs in the context of world history. Again, such an imperial history satisfied that requirement. But thirdly, it may also have been the case that Step‘anos had no other option. Evidently he had access to specific information on the sequence of catholicoi and brief details about their origins, years in office, and character. Nevertheless, there is no indication that these formed part of any longer Armenian historical composition. It may have been easier for Step‘anos to fold these details into the framework provided by the Byzantine imperial history rather than the other way around. The same holds true in relation to the Bagratuni royal line. After the conclusion of Yovhannés Drasxanakertc‘i’s History, and prior to the accession of Smbat II in 977/8, Step‘anos’ knowledge of tenth-century Bagratuni royal history seems to have been limited to their names, years in office, and short anecdotes about them. Even the figure of Smbat II in III.29 was constructed in terms of three wicked deeds which he had committed.*** This is an extraordinary way of presenting the brother of the present king, Gagik I, who is himself accused of committing a sin so heinous that Step‘anos was prevented from including a eulogy to him in his history. These highly entertaining stories seem to reflect oral traditions about the Bagratuni kings which need not have been rooted in historical reality. Step‘anos picked up on these tales and incorporated them into book III. Both their variety and their colourful character—ASot III as the pious servant of the sick, Smbat II as the vindictive, treacherous monarch who had sexual intercourse with his niece—make it extremely improbable that these could have been lifted from any written work devoted to the Bagratuni house. Thus Step‘anos may have been more limited in his choice of text to supply a narrative and chronological framework for book III than we might have imagined and, unable to find a suitable Armenian historical composition, had to look to the neighbouring Byzantine historical tradition instead.
The greatest challenge to the contention that Step‘anos exploited a work of Byzantine historiography when compiling book III of the Universal History is that the original work does not survive in Greek. If one attempts to reconstruct the contents of this ‘lost’ Byzantine imperial history by comparing the details preserved in the Universal History with those preserved by Yahya b. Sa‘id al-Antaki in his History and by Skylitzes in his Synopsis Historion, the results are inconclusive. The correspondences are not so close or so numerous as to prove dependence on the same text by any two of them. But given the complex and evolving character of the tenth- and eleventh-century Byzantine historiographical tradition, as well as the diverse contexts in which each of these extant works was created, it seems improbable that any two of them would have had access to the same original.”*° On the other hand, as Holmes has pointed out, the compositions of Step‘anos and Yahya attest the attraction and the availability of imperial Byzantine histories for authors writing on the margins of the Byzantine empire in the early eleventh century, even when their own compositions were not in Greek.”*° In comparison, Uxtanés, writing twenty years before Step‘anos, compiled the first two books of his History almost exclusively from Armenian texts. It is possible that short hagiographical excerpts relating to St Theodore Teron and the Forty Martyrs of Sebasteia derive from underlying Greek works, but they could equally be attesting the intrusion of contemporary Greek terminology into the local Armenian lexicon.”*” Two decades later, however, Step‘anos was able to exploit a recent work of Byzantine history, despite living and working predominantly outside the empire.
The use of this work demonstrates that the end of the tenth century was a moment of political, religious, and cultural transition. As the Byzantine Empire extended eastwards into Armenia through a combination of negotiated annexation and military threat, Armenian scholars began to reassess the historic and the contemporary relationship with Byzantium. We observed previously how the anonymous author of the History of Tardn reimagined the process of conversion, maintaining that the Imperial Church had played a key role in the Christianization of fourth-century Taron and the mission of St Grigor. That narrative reflects a positive response to the changed circumstances. Uxtanés adopted a different attitude, reacting to present conditions by portraying past relations as fraught and problematic. In formulating their responses, both of these authors turned to existing Armenian historical tradition and modified it in different ways. By contrast, Step‘anos looked beyond this and was able to gain access to and engage with contemporary Byzantine literary culture. His response was not straightforward, however, and it seems that exploiting an imperial history engendered unease on the part of Step‘anos. There can be no doubt that he was opposed to the teachings and the authority of the Imperial Church. The inclusion of the letter to the metropolitan of Sebasteia (IIIJ.21) demonstrates this. He also seems to have harboured a mistrust of Basil II, judging from his selection of passages from the postulated Byzantine history. Many of the extracts contemplate recent Byzantine military engagements across Armenia and the east more generally, as well as the participation of Armenians in operations against the Bulgars. It is striking how many of these passages record challenges to the authority of Basil II, in terms of civil war, natural disaster, and military defeat. In III.15, III.24, and III.25 Bardas Skleros is identified unequivocally as ‘king’; in III.27 an earthquake causes the partial collapse of Hagia Sophia in Constantinople and its restoration by an Armenian architect (an event imbued with symbolic meaning); and Basil II is defeated on the battlefield in person (III.23) and by proxy (111.37).748 Although Basil II is not criticized openly, nor is he eulogized, and it is hard not to see in the selection of these extracts something of Step‘anos’ own views. The revisions to the passages reporting the earlier actions of Constans II in Armenia (II.2), discussed earlier, support this contention. Yet his opposition was not enough to deter him from exploiting the Byzantine historical work. Step‘anos extracted materials from a work of Byzantine imperial history not because he wanted to impart a pro-Byzantine spin to the whole, but because he needed them to complete his Universal History. In other words, the demands of compiling such a history compelled Step‘anos to look beyond the Armenian historiographical tradition.
The passages which Step‘anos inserted into this narrative framework divide broadly into four categories. Book III maintains and develops the focus on prominent Armenian scholars, ascetics, and saints, a theme observed previously in book II. Particular attention is paid to a significant number of newly founded monastic communities scattered across the regions and districts of tenth-century Armenia, along with the names and personal characteristics of their leaders, sometimes in succession. Although the longest passage in III.7 is well known, similar entries feature elsewhere in book III.*? A second cluster of passages record the activities of Bagratuni family members, covering not only the sequence of kings from ASot I to Gagik I, but also successive kings of Kars as well as David, the nephew of Smbat II and Gagik I, who established himself in Loti-Tafir at the end of the century.*”° A third collection of notices report the actions of local Muslim amirs in Armenia and their interactions with one another and with local Armenian lords. These figures, all of whom are identified correctly by Step‘anos, tend to appear suddenly and often vanish again just as quickly. These passages are also characterized by a range of literary forms. By way of illustration, III.12 offers a short lament on the demise of Abt al Hayja b. Ibrahim b. Marzban, the grandson of the powerful Sallarid ruler of Azarbayjan, who lost all his territory and was eventually strangled; III.13 records a brutal campaign undertaken in Vaspurakan by the Shaybani amir of Golt'n, Aba Dulaf; and III.16 presents a eulogy on the deeds and cleverness of ‘Adud al-Dawla, the most powerful of the Buyids, likening him to none other than Alexander the Great!”°! And finally, a fourth group of notices look west and north, describing the actions of David of Tayk‘ as well as engagements in Iberia and Abkhazia.”
Yet in this instance, disentangling these different strands of material on the basis of content does not offer much help in discerning the potential sources available to Step‘anos. Given the sharp and highly personal criticism of both Smbat II and Gagik I, it seems very unlikely that Step‘anos exploited a work of family history for the Bagratuni-focused passages. Such a work almost certainly did exist by the middle of the eleventh century. The twelfth-century Armenian historian Matt‘éos Urhayec'i (Matthew of Edessa) seems to have had access to historical records of the Bagratuni royal line, including the transcript of a letter from the emperor John Tzimiskes to ASot III composed in 974.?°° Quite how this letter, as well as knowledge of the last Bagratuni kings and the final demise of the kingdom, came to lodge in his History is unknown, but one could envisage that a family history of some kind, whether preserved directly or indirectly via an intermediate composition, would have incorporated such material. Nor does it seem likely that the material in the Universal History on the local Muslim amirs derives from a single work, given the diversity of figures and literary styles. We also have to face the challenge of how Step‘anos might have encountered such a putative work. Mindful of his open admission in II.5 that he had been unable to resolve the caliphal sequence, it seems that he was unable to read Arabic or Persian, or that he was unable to access historical records in those languages.
We should remember, however, that Step‘anos was not an isolated or a stationary scholar. It was argued earlier that he worked in the archives of the Catholicosate in Argina, and that he was charged by catholicos Xac‘ik I with improving its collection of scholarly resources. This required Step‘anos to travel to different monastic communities to examine their archives. It was further proposed that Step‘anos learned about these communities and their individual traditions during these visits, and that he later incorporated these details in the Universal History. In my view, a similar process lies behind the mass of notices preserved in book III which contemplate local affairs, both Armenian and nonArmenian in character. This information was collected by Step‘anos in the course of his travels from conversations with the people he encountered. Subsequently it was inserted into the chronological outline supplied by the postulated Byzantine historical composition. In other words, it was Step‘anos himself who was responsible for gathering this information from contemporaries and then incorporating it in the form in which it had been relayed to him. This accounts for the range of notices as well as the differences in tone, from lively but rather fanciful anecdotes about Abas I (III.7) or ‘Adud al-Dawla (III.16), to terse comments on the recent activities of David Bagratuni (III.30 and 45) or Badh b. Dustuk (II1.14, 19, 24, and 38), carving out new lordships for themselves.”°* For the most part, Step‘anos does not further reveal where or from whom he picked up the information, other than from the monastic communities themselves. But it is striking that the first of the three tales about Smbat II Bagratuni in III.29 reveals a close knowledge of the city of Ani—that it contained royal granaries and hay barns, that the city gates were closed overnight and opened at dawn—as well as the actions of the hermits in trying to give the corpse of the accused man a Christian burial.”°° He may have heard it from an inhabitant of the city, or perhaps even from one of the hermits involved in the affair. With its rapid expansion in the second half of the tenth century as a commercial centre, Ani would have been full of news, stories, and anecdotes about prominent contemporary figures from across the Caucasus, including Muslim amirs, and Argina was only fifteen miles north of Ani. But Step‘anos could also have gathered the latest news during his travels. If we plot the locations of the monasteries referred to by Step‘anos, we find that he had connections radiating in different directions from Argina. By way of illustration, Sanahin and Halbat were situated to the north-east; there were several communities to the west in districts under the control of David of Tayk’, including those of Xlajor in Derjan and Hunjk‘ in Karin; and there were several communities to the south, including Kamrjajor in Argarunik’.”°° Step‘anos was therefore in a position to gather information from many different locations. The breadth of his knowledge of local and regional affairs in the recent past, and especially changes in the regional balance of power, suggests that he did not pass up on the opportunities presented, noting the actions of both Armenian and nonArmenian lords. This feature invites comparison with the History of the Anonymous Story-Teller, discussed earlier. Although the stories and anecdotes in that text are limited to the region of Vaspurakan and the territories immediately to the east of it, it too contains a large cast of characters, both Armenian and non-Armenian, engaging and interacting with one another. And whilst the passages in the Universal History tend to be short and informative rather than elaborate and discursive as in the History of the Anonymous Story-Teller, there are exceptions. By way of illustration, III.19 records how the son of the amir of Hér tried to snatch some children from a village but was killed by a local Christian lord called Sargis; how his distraught father then promised to cede control of the city of Hér to the amir of Atrpatakan, Aba al Hayja al-Rawwadi, if he would take revenge against Vaspurakan; and how the latter died on the eve of the campaign.”°” The location of this action in Vaspurakan, the snatches of direct speech in the narrative, and the simple use of divine intervention to explain the sudden and timely death of Abt al Hayja al-Rawwadi, all serve to align this story with material found in the History of the Anonymous Story-Teller. On the other hand, whereas the History of the Anonymous Story-Teller imagines ties of friendship and alliance between Christian and Muslim lords as well as instances of tension and conflict, the Universal History tends to portray only the latter. It is only in passing that we learn in II.29 that Smbat II Bagratuni broke his agreement with the amir of Golt'n, Aba Dulaf, and switched his support to ‘Salar’, the ill-fated Abt al Hayja b. Ibrahim b. Marzban, but that ultimately he was deterred from giving further support by the threat of treachery on the part of his brother Gagik, implying that Gagik had his own ties to Aba Dulaf.”°* Arguably the Universal History reflects a more conservative, traditional attitude towards Christian—Muslim interactions on the part of Step‘anos—a clerical author working for the catholicos—and it may well be the case that, ironically, the History of the Anonymous Story-Teller is more realistic in its depiction of those encounters.
Within this mass of notices which reflect oral origins, there is one substantial document which almost certainly came from the archives of the Catholicosate, namely the long letter at III.21 composed in the name of catholicos Xac‘ik I, perhaps in 986/7, in response to a letter from the metropolitan of Sebasteia.*°? Although the metropolitan’s letter does not survive, several features of it may be traced within the reply, including the intriguing possibility that the metropolitan of Sebasteia was named Theophilos.”©° As noted previously, Step‘anos records in the preceding chapter (III.20) that this metropolitan, and other metropolitans, had started to write very long letters to lord Xat‘ik.®' Step‘anos had therefore resolved to include one of the replies, implying that he was aware of several. He observed that these had been written by previously mentioned vardapets, although, frustratingly, he does not identify who was responsible for composing this response. We know, however, that one of these other letters, addressed to Theodore, metropolitan of Melitene, and preserved in the Girk‘ TTt‘oc’, was written by Samuél Kamrjajorec’i, also at the command of Xa¢‘ik.**? Samuél was also one of the previously mentioned vardapets, being referred to approvingly in III.7. But it seems unlikely that Samuél was also the author of this letter, because the two letters use different versions of the same quotation from the Ancoratus of Epiphanius, and indeed attribute it to different works by Epiphanius.*©
The patristic citations employed within this letter have received careful attention from Thomson and de Durand, but there are several other features which merit brief comment.”™ In the first place, the letter is highly structured, moving from a profession of faith to a series of questions answered by citations first from the Gospels, then from the Epistles, and then from patristic authorities.°°° The letter concludes by discussing differences in practice, including several which had apparently been raised in the earlier letter.*°° Evidently, whoever composed this letter did so in a methodical, organized manner. But secondly it is also clear that the author exploited historic correspondence, to a much greater extent than can be traced in earlier letters. Whole paragraphs, comprising sequences of quotations, have been copied, apparently directly, from the letter of Step‘anos Siwnec‘i to Germanos, the eighth-century patriarch of Constantinople.” As that letter was preserved in the Girk‘ T tt‘oc‘, it appears that the author had access to that collection, presumably via the archives of the Catholicosate. Many of these citations also occur in the late seventh-century Discourse of Sahak II, but the relationship between this letter and that composition is more distant. There are, however, several shorter passages which do appear to depend directly on that text, although we cannot rule out the possibility of an intermediate composition between the two.*°* This direct exploitation also implies that the author did not anticipate the metropolitan of Sebasteia having access to the original correspondence. Thirdly, the letter offers several highly revealing insights into the attitude of the author towards the Imperial Church. He suggests that the metropolitan had defined faith in terms of numbers and wealth, noting caustically that ‘if faith is defined in terms of numbers or wealth, the barbarian Persians and the savage Arabs, and those beyond at the end of the universe, are more numerous and wealthier than you’.”® Evidently the writer recognized the size and material attractions of the Imperial Church for wavering Armenians, and so disparaged these characteristics. He also criticizes the appointment of eunuchs as leaders of the church, revealing his awareness that two recent patriarchs of Constantinople, Theophylact and Polyeuktos, had both been eunuchs.*”? This knowledge is not otherwise attested in Armenian literature. It is highly significant that the author observed that the high dignity of the priesthood had been given to ‘women’, thus revealing how eunuchs were gendered by a late tenth-century Armenian author. And finally he observes that: ‘Just as we do not debate with Jews using the teaching of the Evangelists and the Apostles, but we induce them to believe through their own Prophets, so we composed treatises using different and multiple citations from your own vardapets and those who glorified your country.’”’' This appears to be a novel argument, denying that the Church Fathers were of universal significance and stressing instead their ‘otherness’, as non-Armenians. It does not sit easily with the content of the letter, but seems to reflect the author’s attitude that there was no common ground between the Roman and Armenian ecclesiastical traditions, even in the distant past.
We should also pause to consider why Step‘anos chose to include the letter in his Universal History in the first place. Evidently Step‘anos himself thought it so important that he was prepared to disrupt the chronology of book III, a primary concern which, as we have seen, spans all three books of the Universal History. By incorporating a long theological treatise, it could be argued that Step‘anos was merely following Armenian literary precedent, for the Histories attributed to Sebéos, Lewond, and Yovhannés Drasxanakertc‘i all preserve long documents of this character.*”” Indeed, at II.2 Step‘anos had himself incorporated the first part of the letter preserved by Sebéos, demonstrating that he was aware of this. But it seems likely that Step‘anos was doing more than simply following tradition. Inserting the response to the metropolitan of Sebasteia in full enabled Step‘anos to represent the Armenian Church as an institution which was equal to and independent from the Imperial Church. The letter demonstrates that scholarly resources and traditions still existed in Armenia and these could be deployed in robust defence of Armenian confessional beliefs and liturgical practices. At a time of great political, social, and cultural flux, this treatise therefore reinforces the notion of Armenian distinctiveness in both theological and ecclesiological terms. Nor is it a wholly dry, academic response. In several places it disparages the metropolitan, accusing him of stupidity, error, blasphemy, and ignorance.’”*? Choosing to include this rhetorical and theological tour de force, therefore, was one of the ways in which Step‘anos developed his conception of what it meant to be Armenian at the end of the tenth century.
One further reason for the letter’s inclusion may be advanced. It demonstrates the active measures undertaken by catholicos Xac‘ik to defend the ‘Armenian’ position from accusations of heresy being levelled by senior figures within the Imperial Church, including the metropolitan of Sebasteia. In commending these actions, could it be that Step‘anos was encouraging his sponsor Sargis to follow a similar course of action? The particular context of the letter also seems to be relevant. It follows a chapter (III.20) which reports the imprisonment of several Armenian priests in Sebasteia by the metropolitan of the city, and the subsequent death of one of them named Gabriél in prison; the acceptance of Chalcedon by two bishops, Sion of Sebasteia and Yovhannés of Larissa, and other unnamed priests, which should be interpreted as shorthand for switching allegiance to the Imperial Church; and the prohibition of the distinctive Armenian call to prayer in the city.*”* These imply a concerted effort by the metropolitan of Sebasteia to pressurize members of the Armenian Church settled in his diocese to conform to the authority and teachings of the Imperial Church. In this respect it worth recalling that Uxtanés, bishop of Sebasteia, wrote his History reimagining Armenian historical and confessional traditions in the same decade, although we do not know whether he preceded or succeeded bishop Sion. I shall return to this issue of contemporary ecclesiastical tension in the conclusion.
Let us turn to consider the deeper purposes of the composition. On the basis of its structure and content, it is clear that the Universal History was inspired by Eusebius’ Chronicle. From his first approving comment, identifying Eusebius as the ‘true calculator of time’, through his own chronological calculations scattered through the work which fuse Armenian historical time with world time, down to the elaborate synchronism in the Conclusion to book III, Step‘anos was fascinated by the relationship between history and time. Through this composition, he sought to impart chronological precision to the Armenian past. This not only had the effect of situating that past securely in time; it also served to legitimize that past, associated with, but independent from, other strands of historical time which were devised primarily around sequences of kings, emperors, and caliphs. By integrating Armenian tradition with the span of human history, Step‘anos was promoting the notion that Armenia had existed for centuries, alongside, but separate from, the Persian or Roman empires or the caliphate. In this way, Step‘anos constructed his own vision of Armenian identity—one imagined primarily, but by no means exclusively, in terms of its kings, princes, and catholicoi—just at the very moment when this identity was coming under severe threat from a resurgent Byzantium. So whilst Step‘anos was eager to impose chronological precision upon the Armenian past, he also assembled his own version of that past, a singular, simplified version in which rivalries within and between different princely families and confessional tensions within the Armenian Church did not feature.?”°
The influence of Eusebius’ Chronicle begins to break down in book III. In the first place, whilst Step‘anos remained true to the chronological prerogative established by Eusebius, we see a shift from the universal to the regional and the local. Armenian kings and princes are still depicted interacting with nonArmenians, but with the exception of the Byzantine emperors, these are now regional lords. In this respect, it is telling that contemporary ecclesiastical debates were represented as being conducted with metropolitans, not with the patriarch in Constantinople. Secondly, we see Step‘anos grappling with the swirl of contemporary politics and his own opinions. He seems to have found it increasingly difficult to advance a sense of Armenian identity based around the Bagratuni royal line. He could avoid the uncomfortable reality of the existence of other Armenian kings in Vaspurakan and in Siwnik’ by limiting their exposure in the text, as in the case of the Arcruni kings, or omitting them altogether, as in the case of the various royal lines in Siwnik‘.’”° But by the time he was writing, there were now two Bagratuni royal lines, one based in Ani and the other in Kars, with every prospect of a third emerging in LofiTasir. Furthermore, as we have seen, Step‘anos had a strong antipathy towards the previous and the present occupants of the Bagratuni throne, Smbat II and Gagik I, subverting Armenian kingship as a primary constituent of Armenian identity. Indeed, although Step‘anos never titles him king, it is clear that Step‘anos viewed the kouropalates David of Tayk‘ as the dominant regional lord. Chapter III.11 reports that David marched against Smbat II at the start of his reign when he moved against his uncle MuSet and forced him to back down; III.28 records that in 988/9 David summoned Smbat II to go on campaign against Bagarat III king of Abkhazia; and III.41 records operations in and around Manzikert by the forces of Gagik, king of Armenia, and Gurgén, king of Georgia (Iberia), undertaken at the behest of David kouropalates.’”” Step‘anos’ open admiration for David is expressed in III.43, where David is described as ‘a mild and calm man, more than all the kings of this age’, one responsible for the peace and prosperity of all the east, to whom “all the kings voluntarily submitted’.’”* This undermines the notion of kingship as the apogee of Armenian political organization, and suggests that Step‘anos was finding it hard to make sense of the times in which he was living and to fit them into his conception of the Armenian past.
Step‘anos seems to have encountered similar challenges in his presentation of the contemporary Armenian Church. Although the Universal History traces an unbroken sequence of Armenian Church leaders from Grigor the Illuminator to the present, book III suggests that the established church was under threat. Step‘anos records the problematic succession to Anania Mokac‘i and the flight of catholicos Vahanik to Vaspurakan, as well as the actions of the metropolitan of Sebasteia against leading members of the Armenian Church. He also chose to include the letter composed in defence of Armenian orthodoxy which confronted confessional and liturgical differences. On the one hand, he reveals that catholicos Xa¢‘ik had consecrated new bishops for the Armenian faithful outside the boundaries of historic Armenia, in Antioch, Tarsus, and the enigmatic ‘Sulind’; on the other, he acknowledges that the Armenian bishops of Sebasteia and Larissa and other members of the clergy had been induced to switch sides.”””
In these circumstances, Step‘anos introduced another dimension to his expression of Armenian identity. As noted previously, he highlighted the achievements of individual saints, martyrs, and scholars from different epochs who were commemorated in monastic communities. Such communities were scattered throughout the regions and districts of Armenia, and were permanent, autonomous features in an increasingly unstable political and religious landscape. They were also the principal repositories of Armenian historical memory and intellectual tradition. Armenian identity, as constructed by Step‘anos, did not depend exclusively upon historic political or ecclesiastical institutions, institutions which he saw were crumbling in the face of an expanding Byzantium. It also included the faithful witnessing of individuals who together formed a single community of Armenian saints. This construction of Armenian identity, rooted in a simplified expression of the Armenian past onto which local traditions of sanctity and scholarship could be grafted, proved in the long term to be remarkably resilient, because identity, when expressed in terms of shared cultural memory, is able to transcend political and social upheaval. As will be discussed later, it is unlikely that the Universal History circulated widely. Nor did it shape the future course of Armenian historical writing to any great extent, judging from its reception. But it represents a new way of conceptualizing what it meant to be Armenian and what an ‘Armenian’ past might contain.
The prefaces to the three books, together with the Conclusion to book III, offer further insight into the ambitions of the author. In the opening sentences of I.1 Step‘anos commends the poets and orators of the Armenians and other peoples, scholars honoured by God, who give testimonies for those that are to come of things that have taken place. As noted previously, this legitimized the Armenian historical and intellectual tradition, giving it divine sanction and equating it with all the non-Armenian traditions.**° In IL.1 Step‘anos stresses the importance of tracing the sequence of Armenian kings and patriarchs and integrating these into the span of human history. But he goes on to observe that he would also be including ‘whatever valiant deeds were accomplished by brave men in their days, all the ascetics, those who were glorified by God, and which vardapets appeared in which times, as famous orators or poets’, thereby echoing the opening sentence in I.1.7*! This confirms that Step‘anos incorporated Armenian traditions of individual sanctity and scholarly achievement knowingly and intentionally. And in III.1 Step‘anos notes that ‘the forefathers and the righteous who were found praiseworthy across the centuries were honoured by God and glorified through the written record’.’** Again this encapsulates his understanding of the purposes of history, to search out and pass on examples of how to respond to the outpouring of divine grace. Thus the contents of IIL.7 and IIL8, discussed previously, should not be construed as simply filling an inconvenient gap in the historical record, true though this may be. Rather, they are fully consistent with the express purposes set out in II.1 and III.1. Step‘anos set out to include examples of Armenian achievement and sanctity in his Universal History, and in doing so fashioned a new sense of Armenian identity.
One other purpose behind the composition of the Universal History may be discerned. In III.1 Step‘anos asserts that he conceptualized the future in the following terms: ‘And through the same light of future hope, we see before our eyes the things that are to come with clear-sighted vision, the day of renewal of created things. This is the mystery of the Christians, through which we report the past and predict the future according to God the giver of grace.’”*? In other words, Step‘anos anticipated that the course of human history would be brought to an end at the Parousia, the Second Coming, which he called ‘the day of renewal of created things’.”** This is a standard expression of Christian eschatology applied by Step‘anos to justify the writing of history, that the past merits study because it contains examples of faithful conduct, to be emulated in the knowledge that the course of human history was finite.
A second insight into how Step‘anos approached the future appears in the Conclusion. Having acknowledged the role of God in creating the sun, whose perpetual cycles determined the seasons and the passage of time, Step‘anos observed that the calculation of the cycles in terms of days, months, and years was reserved for ‘the wise, [those] filled to the brim in the knowledge of God’.**° Despite protesting that he had written ‘this chronological composition’ with shallow understanding, and that it was ‘an inconsiderable contribution’, Step‘anos clearly saw himself as one of the wise, one to whom God had given the ability to study and calculate the passage of time.*°° The Universal History represents the fruits of that research. Just as Eusebius had revised the earlier chronological calculations of Julius Africanus and established that Christ had been born in 5199 am and his ministry had begun in the fifteenth year of Tiberius, 5228 AM, so Step‘anos revised the calculations of Eusebius and proposed in 1.2 that that the Crucifixion, in the nineteenth year of Tiberius, had occurred in 5310 am.”*” Step‘anos then used his revised figure in the elaborate synchronism situated in the Conclusion, stating that ‘there are 6282 years from Adam until us’ and ‘972 years from the Crucifixion and the life-giving Passion of the Lord’ (6282 - 972 = 5310).*°
Step‘anos therefore held a conventional Christian expectation of the end of human history. He had also studied the passage of time and produced his own chronological calculations determining how long the world had been in existence since Creation. Time and chronological precision were central to his historical vision. This distinguishes him from previous Armenian historians— apart from the compiler of the Anonymous Chronicle—whose works were not structured in this way. It is less obvious, however, whether Step‘anos also held millenarian convictions, that the thousand-year captivity of Satan described in Revelation 20, and associated variously with the Incarnation and the Crucifixion, was about to come to an end. Step‘anos was the first Armenian writer to employ dates based on these key events in the life of Christ. In 1.3 the date of the Council of Nicaea is reported as being 291 years from ‘the Crucifixion of our Saviour’;”®? in II.2 Step‘anos asserts that ‘all the time from the Birth of the Saviour until the Council of Dvin and the Armenian Era adds up to 553 years’;*° in II.6 the return of the True Cross to Jerusalem is described as taking place 595 years after the Crucifixion of the Saviour;””' and the accession of A8ot I Bagratuni as king in III.2 is dated to the year ‘888 since the coming of our Saviour Lord God’.”°? Most significantly of all, in III.47 Step‘anos reports that, ‘at the time when the year 1000 from the Incarnation of our Lord was finally reached,’ Gagik decided to found a church in Ani based on the design of the ruined church of Zuart‘noc‘.’?’ This notice expresses an unequivocal awareness of the year 1000, but it is not connected to any commentary on the meaning or significance of this date, nor to any event which could be understood as revealing or marking contemporary anxiety. The inconsistency of these dates across the text is also puzzling. If Step‘anos had been anticipating the end of time in the year 1000, one might have expect all of the dates to have been calibrated from the Incarnation. Intriguingly, the final synchronism in the Conclusion switches back to using the Crucifixion as the definitive event.?"* This revision could be a response to the non-appearance of Christ at the turn of the millennium, postponing the Second Coming until 1033. But one is left with the impression that if Step‘anos was aware of millenarian speculation at the end of the tenth century, it had a limited impact on the Universal History, at least in the form in which it was presented to catholicos Sargis.””°
This subdued millenarianism sets the Universal History apart from the later eleventh- and twelfth-century writers. Aristakés Lastivertc'i observed that a solar eclipse in the year 482 az [13 March 1033-12 March 1034] was interpreted by many learned men as the date on which the Antichrist was born and the beginning of many misfortunes.””° Aristakés also records the simultaneous arrival of an unknown man from the east who passed through the districts of Apahunik‘, Hark‘, Mananali, and Ekeleac‘ proclaiming, day and night, “Woe is me!’*?” He goes on to observe that foolish people considered him mad, but the wise said: “This woe will come upon the whole land.’ The twelfth-century historian Matthew of Edessa supplies several expressions of millenarian anxiety. He records that in the year 471 az [16 March 1022-15 March 1023], the sky was split in two from east to west, with a brilliant light in the north. There was also an earthquake and a terrible roaring and crashing, the sun darkened, and the stars appeared as if it were night.”°*
Before an assembly of nobles, a prominent scholar, Yovhannés Kozern, then lamented: “Behold, today is one thousand years of the imprisonment of Satan, whom our Lord Jesus Christ bound with his holy Cross, and especially through his holy baptism in the river Jordan.’*”? It appears that it was Matthew who pinned these events to this date, rather than Yovhannés.*”’ Confusingly, the narrative then records Yovhannés repeating this statement in slightly different terms and attributing it to a different date, the year 478 az [14 March 1029-13 March 1030]: ‘And behold, today Satan has been freed from his thousand-year imprisonment, which is the year 478 of the Armenian Era and adding the first 552, it produces 1030 years; then subtract the thirty years before the Baptism and it makes one thousand years up to today.’*”’
This repetition may indicate the presence of two separate prophecies which have become conflated, one undated and misattributed to the end of the reign of Basil II by Matthew, the other dated by Yovhannés. But the repetition may simply be for emphasis. Matthew also includes another, divergent prophecy attributed to Kozern under the year 485 AE [12 March 1036-11 March 1037]: “Today the thousand years of the torments of the Crucifixion of Christ have been completed and also the release of Beliar, whom the Saviour had bound in the Jordan river.”*°” As Pogossian has observed, the Histories of Aristakés and Matthew were both infused with apocalyptic and millenarian expectation that the end was imminent, and both contain multiple examples of military defeat and moral decay as well as sequences of natural portents to prove this analysis.°°’ But we should remember that both authors were writing in very different circumstances, from beyond the disaster at Manzikert and the political and social transformation which followed.
Book III displays several features which could be interpreted as illustrating the need for moral and religious reform before the End of Time. The criticism of the conduct of past and present Bagratuni kings; the importance of defending the Armenian Church against an expanding Byzantine church; the inclusion of natural portents—the earthquake in 989, accompanied by a tsunami, which brought down part of Hagia Sophia (III.27), the earthquake of 995 which devastated Fourth Armenia (III.36) and which Step‘anos describes in detail; even the characterization in the Conclusion of ‘our hard-hearted and stiff-necked people’—all could be treated as expressions of apocalyptic anxiety on the part of Step‘anos.°”* But such an interpretation has to be inferred from the Universal History; it is not explicit. We should remember that Step‘anos completed his composition four or five years after the passing of the year 1000, when it was clear that the Second Coming had not taken place.
The apparent recalibration in the final synchronism, from the Incarnation to the Crucifixion, enabled the millennium to be deferred by twenty-eight years. Furthermore, Step‘anos comes close to offering an apology for the late completion of the composition, blaming the ‘always-agitated vicissitudes and daily travails of the church’ for denying the opportunity for the proper arrangement of the work.*°° It could be that Step‘anos adopted an apocalyptic mode of expression in the Universal History in the expectation that the year 1000 would usher in the Last Times. But the passing of this year without incident, coupled with the delay in completion, may have compelled Step‘anos to reconsider this dimension to the Universal History and to dampen down its anticipation of the Second Coming. This contention, however, of a late revision, is incapable of proof.
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