Anna Comnena

Anna Comnena (Greek: Ἄννα Κομνηνή, Ánna Komnēnḗ; 1 December 1083 – 1153) was a Byzantine Greek princess and historian. She is the author of the Alexiad, an account of the reign of her father, Byzantine emperor Alexios I Komnenos.

Quotes

The Alexiad

Greek text cited from D. R. Reinsch, A. Kambylis, Annae Comnenae Alexias (Berlin-New York, 2001).
Traslations cited from E. R. A. Sewter, Anna Comnena. The Alexiad (London, 1969).

Preface

• Ῥέων ὁ χρόνος ἀκάθεκτα καὶ ἀεί τι κινούμενος παρασύρει καὶ παραφέρει πάντα τὰ ἐν γενέσει καὶ ἐς βυθὸν ἀφανείας καταποντοῖ ὅπου μὲν οὐκ ἄξια λόγου πράγματα, ὅπου δὲ μεγάλα τὲ καὶ ἄξια μνήμης, καὶ τά τε ἄδηλα φύων κατὰ τὴν τραγῳδίαν καὶ τὰ φανέντα κρυπτόμενος. ἀλλ᾿ ὅ γε λόγος ὁ τῆς ἱστορίας ἔρυμα καρτερώτατον γίνεται τῷ τοῦ χρόνου ῥεύματι καὶ ἵστησι τρόπον τινὰ τὴν ἀκάθεκτον τούτου ῥοὴν καὶ τὰ ἐν αὐτῷ γινόμενα πάντα, ὁπόσα ὑπερείληφε, ξυνέχει καὶ περισφίγγει καὶ οὐκ ἐᾷ διολισθαίνειν εἰς λήθης βυθούς.
  • The stream of Time, irresistible, ever moving, carries off and bears away all things that come to birth and plunges them into utter darkness, both deeds of no account and deeds which are mighty and worthy of commemoration; as the playwright says, it 'brings to light that which was unseen and shrouds from us that which was manifest.' Nevertheless, the science of History is a great bulwark against this stream of Time; in a way it checks this irresistible flood, it holds in a tight grasp whatever it can seize floating on the surface and will not allow it to slip away into the depths of Oblivion.
  • Pr. 1.1

• ταῦτα δὲ διεγνωκυῖα ἐγὼ Ἄννα, [. . .] βούλομαι διὰ τῆσδέ μου τῆς γραφῆς τὰς πράξεις ἀφηγήσασθαι τοὐμοῦ πατρὸς οὐκ ἀξίας σιγῇ παραδοθῆναι οὐδὲ τῷ ῥεύματι τοῦ χρόνου παρασυρῆναι καθάπερ εἰς πέλαγος ἀμνημοσύνης.
  • I, having realized the effects wrought by Time, desire now by means of my writings to give an account of my father's deeds, which do not deserve to be consigned to Forgetfulness nor to be swept away on the flood of Time into an ocean of Non-Remembrance.
  • Pr. 1.2

Book 1

• ἦν γὰρ καὶ ἄλλως μὲν θαυμαζόμενος σεμνότητι, οἷς μᾶλλον ἁλίσκεται τὸ ἀγροικικὸν τοῦτο καὶ στρατιωτικὸν ἔθνος· οὐ γὰρ διορᾷ εἰς ψυχὴν οὐδ᾿ ἐνατενίζει πρὸς ἀρετήν, ἀλλὰ μέχρι τῶν τοῦ σώματος ἀρετῶν ἵσταται τόλμαν καὶ ῥώμην καὶ δρόμον καὶ μέγεθος θαυμάζον καὶ ταῦτα κρῖνον ἄξια ἁλουργίδος καὶ διαδήματος.
  • The man's other qualities were supplemented by an impressive physique, great strength and a majestic presence — all of which exercise an unusual fascination on country folk and the military class. They do not see beyond them to a man’s soul, nor do they regard his virtue, but stand in awe only of his physical excellence, his daring, his virility, his speed of running, his size, and these they judge to be worthy of the purple robe and the crown.
  • I.7.2; on the admiration attracted by Nikephoros Basilakes' physical prowess

• καθά γε καὶ τὸν ἐπὶ τυραννικῇ γνώμῃ διαβόητον Ῥομπέρτον ἐκεῖνον τὸν ἀλαζόνα, ὃν Νορμανία μὲν ἤνεγκε, φαυλότης δὲ παντοδαπὴ καὶ ἐθρέψατο καὶ ἐμαίευσεν.
  • One such was that braggart Robert, notorious for his power-lust, born in Normandy, but nursed and nourished by manifold Evil.
  • I.10.1; on the Norman adventurer Robert Guiscard

• ἄγαλμα φύσεως ἦν ὁ νεανίας ἐκεῖνος καὶ Θεοῦ χειρῶν, ὡς οὕτως εἰπεῖν, φιλοτίμημα· εἰ γὰρ καὶ μόνον ἐθεάσατό τις αὐτόν, εἶπεν ἄν, ὡς τοῦ παρ᾿ Ἕλλησι μυθευομένου χρυσοῦ γένους ἀπορροή, οὕτως ἀμήχανον εἶχε τὸ κάλλος.
  • Constantine was Nature's masterpiece, a triumph, as it were, of God's handiwork. One look at him would convince anyone that here was a descendant of the mythical Golden Age of the Greeks, so infinite was his charm.
  • I.12.3; on Constantine Doukas

• ὁ δὲ κατάπτυστος οὗτος πάπας (οὐδὲ γὰρ ἔχω τί ποτ᾿ ἂν ἄλλο τοῦτον ἐπονομάζειν τὴν ἀπάνθρωπον ἐκείνην ὕβριν ἐνθυμηθεῖσα τὴν εἰς τοὺς πρέσβεας) μετὰ πνευματικῆς χάριτος καὶ εὐαγγελικῆς εἰρήνης ἐπὶ τὸν πόλεμον ὁ δεσπότης ἐχώρει ὅλῃ γνώμῃ καὶ ὅλαις χερσὶ τὸν ἐμφύλιον, ὁ εἰρηνικὸς ταῦτα καὶ τοῦ εἰρηνικοῦ μαθητής.
  • While the abominable pope (when I think of his inhuman act there is no other word I could possibly apply to him), the abominable pope with his spiritual grace and evangelic peace, this despot, marched to make war on his own kindred with might and main — the man of peace, too, and disciple of the Man of Peace!
  • I.13.7; on Pope Gregory VII

• βρούχους ἄντικρυς καὶ ἀκρίδας εἶπεν ἄν τις αὐτούς, τὸν πατέρα καὶ τὸν υἱόν· τὰ γὰρ κατάλοιπα Ῥομπέρτου ὁ τούτου υἱὸς Βαϊμοῦντος προσεπενείματο καὶ κατέφαγεν.
  • Father and son you might liken to caterpillars and locusts, for what was left by Robert, his son fed on and devoured.
  • I.14.4; on Robert Guiscard and his son Bohemund

Book 13

• ᾔδει γάρ, οἶμαι, ὁ στρατηγός, ὡς τὸ ἀντίπαλον ἅπαν φῦλον ξυγκροτούμενον μὲν καὶ ἀλληλουχούμενον ἔρρωται, στασιάζον δὲ καὶ εἰς πολλὰ μεριζόμενον ἀδρανέστερον γίνεται καὶ οὕτω τοῖς πολεμοῦσιν εὐχείρωτον.
  • The general knew, I think, that the opposition is strong when the whole body is welded together and of one mind; but let there be faction, and it splits up into many parts and becomes feebler, an easy prey to its enemies.
  • XIII.4.6

Book 15

• θαυμάζειν δὲ ἐστὶ πῶς οὐ γίνεταί τις καὶ νῦν καθάπερ καὶ πάλαι, φησίν, ἢ λίθος ἢ ὄρνις ἢ δένδρον ἢ τί τῶν ἀψύχων ὑπὸ μεγάλων κακῶν εἰς τὰ τοιαῦτα τὴν φύσιν ἀμείβων, εἴτε μῦθος τοῦτό ἐστιν εἴτε λόγος ἀληθής. καὶ τάχα κρεῖττον ἄν εἴη πρὸς τὰ μηδὲν αἰσθανόμενα μεταμείβειν τὴν φύσιν ἢ τοσαύτην αἴσθησιν δέχεσθαι τοῦ κακοῦ. εἰ γὰρ τοῦτ᾿ ἦν, τάχ᾿ ἄν με λίθον ἀπέδειξε τὰ συμπεσόντα δεινά.
  • It is extraordinary that nobody nowadays under the stress of great troubles is turned into stone or a bird or a tree or some inanimate object; they used to undergo such metamorphoses in ancient times (or so they say), though whether that is myth or a true story I know not. Maybe it would be better to change one's nature into something that lacks all feeling, rather than be so sensitive to evil. Had that been possible, these calamities would in all probability have turned me to stone.
  • XV.5.4

• ἐγὼ μὲν οὖν ἔτι καὶ νῦν ἀπιστῶ ἐμαυτῇ, εἴπερ ζῶ τὲ καὶ γράφω καὶ μνημονεύω θανάτου τοῦ αὐτοκράτορος, καὶ θαμὰ ἐπαφῶμαι τῷ ὀφθαλμῷ, μήποτ᾿ ἄρα οὐχ᾿ ὕπαρ, ἀλλ᾿ ὄναρ ἐστὶ τὰ νῦν ὑφ᾿ ἡμῶν ὑπαγορευόμενα, ἢ δέ γε καὶ μὴ ὄναρ ἐστὶν ἀλλ᾿ ἔκστασίς τις καὶ παρακοπὴ καὶ πάθος περὶ ἐμὲ θαυμαστὸν καὶ ἀλλόκοτον. πῶς γὰρ ἀπορρυέντος ἐκείνου τοῖς βιοῦσιν ἐγὼ συντάττομαι καὶ συναριθμοῦμαι ζῶσιν;
  • Even now I cannot believe that I am still alive and writing this account of the emperor's death. I put my hands to my eyes, wondering if what I am relating here is not all a dream - or maybe it is not a dream: perhaps it is a delusion and I am mad, the victim of some extraordinary and monstrous hallucination. How comes it that when he is dead I am still numbered among the living?
  • XV.11.21