‘Waiting for the barbarians’ (written December 1898, first published 1904), perhaps Cavafy's most famous poem,Footnote 1 depicts what George Seferis would have called a ‘pseudo-historical’ scenario:Footnote 2 owing to the absence of any proper name, it gives the impression, perhaps more conspicuously than any other ‘ancient’ poem, of straddling the boundary between the historical and the symbolic;Footnote 3 it has also been judged the earliest example of Cavafy's mixture of ‘exterior representation, historical episode and interior monologue of the poet’.Footnote 4 This state of affairs should drive exegetes away from Quellenforschung in the strict sense, and foster research into the identification of ‘sources’ in the looser sense of ‘background to the creation of the poem’.Footnote 5
According to one of Cavafy's own notes on ‘Waiting for the barbarians’, published by Savvidis in 1991, ‘given that I took the barbarians as a symbol, it was natural to speak about consuls and praetors; the emperor, the senators and the orators are not necessarily Roman things’.Footnote 6 As a matter of fact, while the references to the magistrates (ll. 3, 4, 8, 16) evidently conjure up a setting in Rome, no extant source relates a remotely comparable event in Roman history, not even during either of the two invasions that brought barbaric tribes to the capital of the empire: the Visigoths in 410 and the Vandals in 455 CE.Footnote 7
To be sure, the attitude towards barbarians was sometimes ambivalent in Latin culture (indeed, through the centuries they were increasingly integrated into the military and the administration):Footnote 8 but there is no evidence that any emperor ever openly surrendered to invading tribes, more or less implicitly regarded their leaders as liberators, or opened the city's gates to them. Therefore, while Michaletos’ arguments in favour of a Roman location (the institutions, the allusion to the toga picta, the references to military triumph) are intrinsically sound, they prove inconclusive in pinning down any specific moment in the history of the Empire.Footnote 9
Some scholars have noticed similarities with a famous scene during the Gallic sack of Rome in 390 BCE (Livy 5.40-41; Plutarch, Life of Camillus 21.4 and 22.5-6), when the elderly magistrates, dressed in their solemn garments and sitting on imposing chairs, waited for the barbarians’ arrival in an empty town, as the rest of the population had sought refuge on the Capitol.Footnote 10 Despite the further arguments brought by Stratis Tsirkas (who additionally detected a source of inspiration in Kleon Rangavis’ play Julian the Apostate),Footnote 11 this analogy with the Gallic sack neglects the fact that this traumatic event was less the beginning of irreversible decline than the last setback of Roman power before centuries of grandeur.Footnote 12 The decision of the elderly Romans to remain in town, clad in their solemn togas or sitting on ivory thrones in the forum, far from being an act of resignation or a mere attempt to impress the enemy (an effect they nevertheless achieved, but through their unexpected bravery and gravitas rather than their attire or their luxury: Plutarch, Camillus 22.6 ἦν οὖν θαῦμα τοῖς Γαλάταις πρὸς τὴν ἀτοπίαν), has the distinctly heroic flavour of a sacral devotio and of a stern, symbolic resistance against a strong and dangerous enemy.
Seferis, one of Cavafy's most subtle readers, once claimed for ‘Waiting for the barbarians’ a Byzantine, strictly speaking ‘Phanariot’ tone;Footnote 13 and according to one of his contemporaries, the poet claimed to be ‘four-quarters Byzantine and three-quarters Alexandrian’.Footnote 14 It seems to me that the backbone of Cavafy's poem shares some important features with a famous passage of the Byzantine historian Niketas Choniates (†1217) describing how the emperor Alexios III Angelos received at court in Constantinople two ambassadors of the German emperor Henry VI Hohenstaufen, who had just asked for an enormous amount of money in exchange for his withdrawal from the vast region stretching from Epiros to Thrace, which he regarded as legitimately belonging to his own rather than to the Eastern Roman empire. It is Christmas Day, 1196. Footnote 15
Because the emperor whose reign we are now recounting could not dismiss the envoys empty-handed, he consented to pay money in return for peace, something which had never been done up to this time. Alexios, intent on extolling the wealth of the Roman empire, undertook no task suited to the times but did that which was neither worthy of respect nor seemly and almost ridiculed the Romans. On the feast of Christ's Nativity, he donned his imperial robe set with precious stones, and commanded the others to put on their garments with the broad purple stripe and interwoven with gold [τὰς χρυσοϋφεῖς περιθέσθαι καὶ πλατυσήμους ἐσθῆτας]. The Germans were so far from being astonished by what they saw [ἔκθαμβοι τοῖς ὁρωμένοις τούτοις φανῆναι] that their smouldering desire was kindled into a flame by the splendid attire of the Romans, and they wished the sooner to conquer the Greeks, whom they thought cowardly in warfare and devoted to servile luxuries. . . . ‘The Germans – they said – have neither need of such spectacles, nor do they wish to become worshippers of ornaments and garments secured by brooches suited only for women who like makeup, headdresses, glittering earrings, and being attractive to men’. To frighten the Romans they said, ‘The time has now come to take off womanly brooches and to put on iron instead of gold.’ Should the embassy fail in its purpose and the Romans not agree to the will of their lord and emperor, then they would have to stand in battle against men who are not adorned by precious stones like meadows in bloom, and who do not swell in pride because of pearls shimmering like moonlight; neither are they inebriated with amethysts [ταῖς ἀμεθύσοις μεθύουσι λίθαξιν], nor are they coloured in purple and gold like the proud Median bird [the peacock], but being the foster-sons of Ares, their eyes are inflamed by the fire of wrath like the glowing gemstones, and the clotted beads of sweat from their day-long toil outshine the pearls in the beauty of their adornment.Footnote 16
The main analogy between this account and Cavafy's poem is that both are tales of passive humiliation and ridicule. The central stanzas of ‘Waiting for the barbarians’ (ll. 8–21) are virtually the only lines to describe real, ongoing action in the poem: while we find elsewhere negative traces of immobility and emptiness (no orators in the forum, no legislators in the Senate, empty streets, a waiting emperor), this section describes the initiative taken by the imperial entourage in the face of imminent danger. And this is not a political (let alone military) response: for one thing, we are not told in the poem whether the barbarians will arrive to ravage and plunder the town, or – as seems likelier – in view of a preliminary diplomatic meeting (ll. 12–13 ‘the emperor is waiting to receive their leader’). In any case, it is clear that the members of the ruling elite are ready to surrender to the newcomers, and that they have decided to wear their solemn official garments and to put on their most precious jewels, for ‘such things impress the barbarians’ – a last, formal defence of their pristine dignity through the ostentation of wealth and luxury, a final, pointless reaffirmation of their alleged superiority in terms of nobility and prestige (the scrolls, the titles).
This artifice is obviously a trick, a vile self-deception that sheds discredit on the very insignia of royalty (πρὸς Ῥωμαίων κατάγελων, as Niketas would put it): those symbols, as well as the togas, the jewels and the crowns, were actually meant to represent – as had been the case during the Gallic sack of 390 BCE – the real dignity and the real values of Rome; in the present situation, however, they serve as the tools of a sad masquerade intended to dazzle an enemy who is threatening to subvert the empire, its laws and its customs without facing any resistance on the part of the locals.
The peculiar role of clothing deserves special mention here. This is the earliest poem in which Cavafy gives a special contextual and political function to garments:Footnote 17 later ones include ‘King Demetrios’ (1906), with Demetrios Poliorketes changing his clothes ‘like an actor’ after his defeat, ‘Alexandrian Kings’ (1912), with the emphasis on Caesarion's outward appearance, and the ‘Seleucid's Displeasure’ (1915), where king Demetrios provides Ptolemy with the appropriate regal attributes (gold, purple, diamonds). Perhaps the best-known text of this category is ‘Manuel Komnenos’ (1905, published 1915), where the decision of the Byzantine emperor Manuel I (†1180) to dress as a monk shortly before his death appears less as a sincere religious conversion than a nervous reaction to the premonition of death, an awkward and pathetic denial of his real ethos and of his worldly grandeur,Footnote 18 as well as of his gravitas, his coherence and his dignity;Footnote 19 not surprisingly, Cavafy's source for this poem is another famous passage of Niketas Choniates.Footnote 20
In his account of the diplomatic meeting between Alexios III and the ambassadors of Henry VI, Niketas is not describing the siege of a city, nor – at least openly – the decline of a civilization. Yet, having renounced any form of resistance, Alexios and his court follow precisely the same strategy as Cavafy's emperor, namely they try to impress the enemies (note the term θάμβος, which occurs in both contexts)Footnote 21 through a solemn ritual that has sometimes been connected with prokypsis.Footnote 22 This ritual culminates in a magniloquent ostentation of luxury and wealth, including long official robes (the laticlavia, to be compared with Cavafy's purple, embroidered togas) and expensive jewels (note in particular the amethyst appearing in both texts).Footnote 23 In exactly the same terms defined by Theophylact of Ochrid a century earlier,Footnote 24 if Alexios’ strategy was intended to mitigate the sanctions imposed on the Byzantines, then the outcome is embarrassing, for the emperor and his court end up being ridiculed by the Germans,Footnote 25 who disdainfully argue that they are a virile nation, utterly alien to this kind of luxury or effeminate attitude and – one might extrapolate – to scrolls and empty titles as well.Footnote 26
In fact, Niketas’ Germans do not match the image of Cavafy's expected barbarians, for they present themselves as the genuine defenders of the good old values long lost in Constantinople's decadent atmosphere:Footnote 27 far from fulfilling the barbarian stereotype of illiteracy and rudeness (‘they are bored by rhetoric and public speaking’, l. 27 of Cavafy's poem), they display high rhetorical skills, proving even more persuasive than the Greeks themselves.Footnote 28 Historically, this is not surprising, for among the ambassadors there was such a learned scholar as Heinrich von Kalden; but it must be stressed that the depiction of the Northern peoples as βάρβαροι is frequent both in Niketas’ history (especially in the account of the sack of Constantinople in 1204) and in other Byzantine authors; indeed, it belongs to a very typical Byzantine attitude (and a very institutional one: at court there was a minister ἐπὶ τῶν βαρβάρων, and emperors were often judged on the basis of their military deeds against the βάρβαροι) vis-à-vis the shaved Westerners, who do not speak their language, and whose armies ravage their land with no sense of piety or respect for holy shrines or masterpieces of art.Footnote 29 Technically speaking, Alexios III in Niketas’ scene is indeed ‘waiting for the barbarians’, who then come and humiliate him and his nation.
Still, for all his disdain towards foreign invaders, Niketas proves the most implacable critic of the declining Byzantine state, vexed by corruption at the court, inadequate emperors, adulation and envy. In his sophisticated style, Niketas pays peculiar attention to the ethos and the moral flaws of his characters.Footnote 30 In his view, the moral decay of the ruling elite justified the fall of Byzantium in 1204, during which the Latins simply played the role of the providential punishers (κολασταί) of an immoral and vicious empire.Footnote 31 Niketas views the moment of Alexios III's self-ridiculing in front of the Germans, of his (vain) loss of σεμνόν,Footnote 32 of this unprecedented acquiescence to foreign requests,Footnote 33 as an important step towards the catastrophe of 1204: this is made clear by the immediately following lament over the fate of Constantinople, and by Niketas’ recurrent apocalyptic tone.Footnote 34
A similar view of the moral and political decay of the Byzantine empire was held by two great modern historians who knew Niketas very well and who were in turn both well known to Cavafy. Gibbon's Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire devotes few but significant pages to Isaac Angelos (who ‘slept on the throne, and was awakened only by the sound of pleasure’) and to his brother and successor Alexios III (in whose unworthy hands ‘the remains of the Greek empire crumbled into dust’).Footnote 35 More importantly, the 19th-century Greek historian Konstantinos Paparrigopoulos insisted that under Alexios’ kingdom ‘the internal paralysis reached its peak, and the external dangers became more fearful than ever’,Footnote 36 indeed ‘medieval Hellenism faded out and prepared to surrender’.Footnote 37
Between 1888 and 1892, Gibbon and Paparrigopoulos had been Cavafy's chief sources of inspiration for a set of eleven historical poems called ‘Byzantine Days’.Footnote 38 Most of these texts are lost, and only their title is known to us today; the only one Cavafy chose to revise and revamp in later years is ‘Theophilos Palaiologos’, whose original title ran ‘I prefer to die rather than to live’Footnote 39 – the iconic and lapidary words of despair uttered, according to the chronicle of Georgios Sphrantzes, by Theophilos, the cousin of emperor Constantine XI Palaiologos, at the end of the ultimate resistance against the Ottomans on 29 May 1453.Footnote 40
Cavafy's approach to Byzantium, recently reappraised by Peter Jeffreys,Footnote 41 steered progressively clear of both European decadentism and Paparrigopoulos’ nationalistic stance.Footnote 42 In the early period that concerns us here, we can detect a special focus on the Crusades, probably prompted by an early reading of Gibbon's Decline and Fall;Footnote 43 this interest was to accompany Cavafy throughout his life (E. M. Forster once wrote that one of the poet's favourite conversation topics in Alexandria was ‘the tricky behaviour of the Emperor Alexius Comnenus in 1096’)Footnote 44 and was to resurface much later in his creative writing, i.e. in the Byzantine poems of the years 1914–27, which cluster mostly around the twelfth century, drawing on passages of the most important historians of the Comnenian age.Footnote 45
If Gibbon was one of Cavafy's early sources for Late Antiquity and Byzantium, the autograph marginal notes on his copy of Decline and Fall show a lively interest in two interrelated topics that are pivotal to the understanding of ‘Waiting for the barbarians’:Footnote 46 the decline of human society, and the image of the barbarian itself. In his own autoscholia, Cavafy insisted that the poem was in fact about the relationship between civilization and happiness (πολιτισμός and ευτυχία) in an ideal city whose inhabitants consciously decide to step back from the civilized world.Footnote 47 It is a matter of debate whether this implies Cavafy's enthusiasm for the positivist paradigm according to which barbarism was disappearing from the earth to the advantage of civilization,Footnote 48 or whether conversely the poem should be read in the context of the feeling of apathy and lassitude dominating decadent poetry from Verlaine's 1885 ‘Langueur’ (also often evoked as a possible source of Cavafy's poem)Footnote 49 down to O. V. de Lubicz-Milosz's 1899 ‘Coup de grâce’ (ll. 34–5: ‘Appelons, à grand cris, les Barbares libérateurs: / Les mains des patriciens sont trop belles pour les armes’) and Valery Bryusov's ‘Huns’ (1904).Footnote 50
As M. Boletsi has recently shown, Cavafy does not really buy into the idea that a deliberate and almost resigned surrender to an external force might help a civilization to overcome its own decline, an idea deeply rooted in Ernest Renan's philosophy of history.Footnote 51 According to a newly discovered handwritten comment, Cavafy regarded his poem as a ‘warning to avoid the danger of wanting barbarians, not finding them’:Footnote 52 the very concept of ‘barbarian’ thus becomes unstable and slippery, as is shown by Cavafy's final couplet, which ends on a note of regret and puzzlement, not only because the decay is thereby delayed.Footnote 53 Barbarians, indeed, ‘were a kind of solution’, but only as long as they were conceived and thought of from the viewpoint of the poem's answering voice, which represents an anonymous communis opinio and is not seriously describing any kind of reality.Footnote 54 In fact, ‘barbarians’ are vital parts of any society, and no society can ascribe its stability or its fall exclusively to the positive or negative input of external forces.Footnote 55
This is also what Niketas implies when he presents the dramatic encounter between the German ‘barbarians’ and the ‘civilized’ Romans. Our images (and expectations) of the ‘other’ do not correspond to the truth: the barbarians will not arrive, the Germans will not be impressed. Indeed, the very stigma of ‘barbarian’ is a matter of prejudice within the conventions of a given culture, as emerges from another Cavafy text, written in the same months of 1898: the (rejected) poem ‘Οι Ταραντίνοι διασκεδάζουν’ (first published with the subtitle ‘Αρχαίαι Ημέραι’, a clear counterpart to the old ‘Βυζαντιναί Ημέραι’). The Roman senators, travelling to Tarentum on an embassy in 282 BCE, are ridiculed by the locals, and presented as ‘barbarian togas’:Footnote 56
Here, precisely as in our poem (see ll. 29–31 ‘How serious people's faces have become. . . everyone going home so lost in thought’), the senators’ gaze is σκυθρωπόν, grim: a few years later, at the end of the war against Pyrrhus (272 BCE), those same Romans will overturn a rich, developed and luxurious civilization (the archetype of wealth and tryphe, Tarentum) – the same civilization whose last representatives had once looked down on them as ‘barbarians’ in order to conceal what was the gradual loss of their own identity, the plight of their decline.Footnote 57