The structure of the Historiai and the textualization of the Self

The Historiai has a complex textual genesis. Tzetzes’ self-commentary is divided into three partsFootnote ⁹ and each part is labelled by the author as πίναξ:Footnote ¹⁰

1. 1)

   1. a) Historiai I 1-IV 470 commentary on the verse epistle To Lachanas

   2. b) Historiai IV 466–780 verse epistle To Lachanas

2. 2) Historiai IV 780-V 193 commentary on the opening epistle of the letter collection, addressed to a certain Epiphanios.

3. 3) Historiai V 202-XIII 668 commentary on the remainder of the letter collection.

The first part of the Historiai was designed as an autonomous piece of self-commentary. The verse epistle to Lachanas (IV 471–779, pp. 142–151 Leone), which I shall tackle in the third section of this paper, was written purposefully to serve as a starting point for Tzetzes’ exegesis. In the prose subscriptio to the epistle, Tzetzes proudly declares his ability to use judicial, deliberative, and encomiastic rhetoric.Footnote ¹¹ The letter is an attack against the grammarian Lachanas, working in the Zabareion.Footnote ¹² It is dotted with learned references to mythological anecdotes and facts, which spark the creativity of the commentator. Such a display of knowledge is functional to the aim of the letter, ultimately motivated by professional rivalry. This is also the overarching concern underlying the first part of the Historiai.

The second part of Tzetzes’ self-commentary is devoted to the epistle opening the author's letter collection. The missive to Epiphanios, nephew of the Metropolitan of Side,Footnote ¹³ has a strong programmatic character and was surely composed – or revised – to function as a prologue to the collection.Footnote ¹⁴ Following the rules of proemial rhetoric,Footnote ¹⁵ the letter has a strong apologetic tone, with Tzetzes playing the role of the author victim of unfair attacks and therefore needing to strike back.Footnote ¹⁶ Tzetzes alludes to colleagues he despises, comparing them to celebrated idiots of the ancient tradition.Footnote ¹⁷ The commentary consists of 23 ἱστωρίαι and it provides important information about the structure, chronology and the phases of composition of the work.Footnote ¹⁸

Finally, in the third part, Tzetzes proceeds to comment on the letter collection in its entirety, which gives him occasion to make even more personal attacks and polemical statements. In the third πίναξ, however, one can notice a shift in the target of Tzetzes’ anger. While in the first two parts he aims mostly at colleagues, the last section of the work is characterized by an overarching polemic addressed against one of his former powerful patrons, Andronikos Kamateros,Footnote ¹⁹ who had promoted Gregory, a rival of Tzetzes as a ‘rhetor in the royal house’.Footnote ²⁰ Indeed, in the third part Tzetzes often delves into problems related to rhetorical theory, putting forward his interpretation of the Hermogenian doctrine against the views of Kamateros and, we may assume, his protégé.Footnote ²¹ The resentment against Andronikos is a recognizable strand throughout the third part. What is more, in the second recensio of the Historiai three iambic poems follow the text proper.Footnote ²² They revolve around the education of children and, again, rhetorical matters. Both the titles and the content of the poems resonate with the ἱστoρίαι targeting Andronikos Kamateros.Footnote ²³ Exemplars of the second recensio of the self-commentary, with its explicit and all-encompassing polemical target, were probably circulated (also) with the aim of repositioning Tzetzes within his social network of patrons and supporters. This statement of allegiance fits well with the new patronage of Constantine Kotertzes,Footnote ²⁴ for whom a clean edition of the self-commentary was prepared. The scholion on V 23, 201 states that Tzetzes is revising the work soiled by the copyists’ malpractice for the sake of Constantine.Footnote ²⁵ It also expresses the worry that the author's old age might prevent him from completing the task.Footnote ²⁶ On this basis it has been argued that the work was in fact properly published long after the raw material was first written down.Footnote ²⁷ However, Tzetzes’ complaints might well be a traditional topos rather than reflect biographical reality.

The different aims and targets of the three parts affect also the way Tzetzes refers to himself in the commentary. References in the third person are more frequent in the third πίναξ. In the first two parts, on the contrary, Tzetzes devotes more room to first person narratives, which are also autobiographical in a more traditionally eulogistic way. Ιn the commentary on the epistle to Lachanas and on the first programmatic letter, Tzetzes gives voice to an idealized self, whereas in the third part he often takes an external point of view, accounting for his, or at least one of his, social selves. In so doing, he ironically takes up the social persona that he felt others assigned to him. Thus, the multilayered structure of the commentary leads to a multifaceted representation, in which the self is inscribed and refracted in the text in different ways.

Such a multilayered structure, while accounting for the different phases of composition, was integral to Tzetzes’ final editorial programme, as he himself explains at the end of the second part:Footnote ²⁸

Lines 188–189 testify to the process of anthologization underlying both Tzetzes’ letter collection and the Historiai. Tzetzes clarifies his working method: the letters pre-exist the commentary, then the pieces to be commented upon are chosen and finally the ‘stories’ proper are drafted. The passage must also be read as a sort of direction intended for future copyists and as such it reveals Tzetzes’ intention to control his own textual production. Tzetzes makes lines 193–202 stand out by changing the metrical form and introducing hexameters in the textual fabric. His concerns were not unmotivated. The publication of the letters had been stalled by a major accident, leading to the division of the collection into two parts, including respectively letters 1–69 and letters 70–107. At the beginning of the second part, the manuscripts have preserved the following notation:Footnote ²⁹

A few letters later, epistle 76 is introduced by a note in which Tzetzes explains how he managed to retrieve his material:Footnote ³⁰

These short notes show that, after a first process of selection and anthologizing, Tzetzes had to start from scratch, retrieving his drafts in order to reconstitute the collection in the right order. In this respect the commentary, with its rigid structure and its πίνακες, serves the purpose of ‘freezing’ the letter-collection against further manipulation. The commentary itself, however, was not immune from accidents. The final lines of the passage quoted above allude to the loss of material due to a theft at the imperial palace.Footnote ³¹

The lines closing the second part of the Historiai fulfil a twofold function: on the one hand, they are designed to keep Tzetzes’ book production under control; on the other, they emphasize the (unauthorized) diffusion of his work. Tzetzes tends to construe himself as an author under attack, depicting his production as threatened by distortions and plagiarismFootnote ³² . His texts have a life as precarious as that of their author, constantly struggling for social recognition. Textual and personal identities somehow collapse. By exposing the textual layers of the Historiai, Tzetzes also reveals the biographical layers underpinning the narrative of his life. As said, the three parts of the Historiai have different targets and as such account for different facets and different periods of Tzetzes’ biography. Even more crucially, Tzetzes uses textual marks as biographical signposts. The book appears as a constant work in progress, or else a living creature, subject to continuous transformation in the form of accidents, second thoughts, amendments, rewriting. Change is often associated with, or motivated by, well-defined life events. The connection between textual and extra-textual ‘incidents’ is duly emphasized and the material aspects add to the identification of the author with his work.

This technique emerges clearly also in the arrangement of the epistle collection. The most blatant case is represented by letter 10, which, in fact, does not exist. In the initial design, letter 10 was intended to be an iambic poem for Tzetzes’ recently deceased brother. However, Tzetzes states that he grew stylistically and emotionally dissatisfied with it and eventually decided not to include the letter in the collection:Footnote ³³

Ἣν διὰ τὸ ὑπερπαθῆσαί με καὶ διὰ τὸ καταχρήσεις πολλὰς αὐτὴν ἔχειν τῶν διχρόνων—διὰ στίχων γὰρ ἦν ἰάμβων—χιώσας συνεπάτησα.

Because of my excessive grief and the excessive use of two short syllables – for it was composed in iambics – after crossing it off, I trampled it under my feet.

Once again, Tzetzes lays bare the compositional process underlying his work. He informs the reader about the private circumstances affecting his writing and shaping the collection. He allows his readership to peek into his scribal workshop. The decision to keep the record of the verse epitaph for Isaac serves an autobiographical purpose, embedding the memory of his deceased brother into the structure of Tzetzes’ work. Letter 10 represents a textual pause, a silence replicating Isaac's absence from the author's life in the fabric of the collection.

Tzetzes shows without ambiguities how challenging and problematic the publication of a letter collection was. In so doing, he demonstrates full awareness of the ‘fragility’ of the genre, to put it in Stratis Papaioannou's words.Footnote ³⁴ And yet, he exploits such fragility for his own purposes. Revisions, textual mishaps, losses of material are not obliterated or concealed. On the contrary, they are highlighted so as to build a sort of stratigraphy, a ‘biographical’ outline which applies to both the collection and its author. Tzetzes inscribes himself and his personal experience deeply into the text. On the other hand, through self-commentary he overcomes the risks entailed by a fluid manuscript tradition.Footnote ³⁵ For one thing, the commentary prevents further textual movements, securing the order of the letter collection. Moreover, exegesis, having primarily a didactic purpose, achieves the goal of tearing Tzetzes’ letter collection out of historical contingency. The Historiai is an assortment of cautionary tales, proverbs, mythological anecdotes, excerpts from ancient literature, literary criticism and individual recollections. Personal and cultural reminiscences are blended together in a unique mix. Tzetzes’ biographical experiences are thus ‘universalized’ and put on the same footing as other exemplary narratives presented in the Historiai. Within this framework, memory plays a crucial role, as we shall see in the next section.

The Historiai as a ‘Book of memory’

Memory is a pervasive motif throughout the Historiai. The title introducing the commentary on the verse letter to Lachanas emphasizes Tzetzes’ ability to remember many ‘stories’, i.e. anecdotes, narratives, literary and mythological details, in a single piece of work:Footnote ³⁶

The emphasis on memory is crucial to the way Tzetzes conceptualizes the creation of his work. In the Historiai he portrays himself as ἀβίβλης, claiming that he does not possess any book. The composition of the Historiai, he asserts, is the result of his prodigious memory as well as of his ability to write fast and off the top of his head. In this framework, small lapses of memory become evidence of the way the Historiai were conceived and are therefore highlighted throughout the volume. In VIII 176 a memory lapse concerning a Homeric line is used as a pretext to provide information on the different compositional phases of the work:Footnote ³⁷

Tzetzes’ statements may seem contradictory. While he asserts to be ἀβίβλης, he also admits to copying, if rarely, from other books. In fact, what Tzetzes wants to stress is that he himself did not possess any book. This does not mean that he could not refer to books owned by others. From those books he takes notes, he corrects them, or else, he supplies them with marginal and highly critical glosses. The manuscript of Thucydides studied by M. J. Luzzatto, for instance, most likely bears traces of this sort of activity.Footnote ³⁸ However, Tzetzes could not rely on a personal library while he was in the process of composing the Historiai, nor had he time for slow consumption of the texts with which he dealt. And yet Tzetzes claims accuracy and truthfulness for himself. Indeed, as we have seen, the Historiai underwent a painstaking process of revision. Copyists’ work was constantly supervised. Moreover, second thoughts on the arrangement of the work led to two different editions ‘published’ one after the other. However, the ultimate source of Tzetzes’ accuracy does not lie as much in this process of revision and rewriting as in his prodigious mnemonic power.

Tzetzes’ memory is depicted as a powerful tool, one that enables him to recall all the books ever written, a storehouse containing even more material than that available in the Historiai. In a ἱστορία belonging to the third part of the work, Tzetzes voices his concerns that the codex he is using might not be large enough to contain all the planned material. This notation is partly functional to his self-portrait as an intellectual doomed to poverty and as such it fits well with the notion of his being ἀβίβλης.Footnote ³⁹ On the other hand, however, it also provides important details about the composition, the consumption and the transmission of the work, as well as about its underlying ideology.

As we have seen, Tzetzes speaks about himself both in the first and in the third person and in so doing he breaks down the writing subject, as it were. This strategy allows him to project different identities onto the Historiai. The use of the third person creates an artificial distance and at times grants him the possibility of taking upon himself the criticisms voiced by his adversaries. Tzetzes also impersonates different roles. He does not appear just as the author-compiler of the Historiai, he also plays the part of the copyist. Such is the case with regard to the ἱστορία VI 50, where a change in the compositional strategy is accounted for as follows:Footnote ⁴⁰

This passage probably reflects real preoccupations. If we look at the number of lines composed for each ἱστορία in the commentary to letters 2–107, corresponding to the third part of the work, it turns out that from the fiftieth ἱστορία onward Tzetzes wrote an average of 16.32 lines for each lemma (7238 lines and 447 ‘stories’) against an average of 23.81 for each lemma in the first part (1167 verses and 49 ‘stories’). Apparently Tzetzes actually reduced the overall amount of material offered to the reader in each lemma.

The material constraints hampering Tzetzes’ writing are mentioned again in Historiai X 332. At the end of the lemma, dedicated to Cadmus, Tzetzes addresses the problem of the invention of writing. He counters the hypothesis that Cadmus introduced the alphabet to Greece by bringing in a Delphic oracle implying the existence of written language already at that time. Given the lack of space, he confines himself to quoting only the first three verses:Footnote ⁴¹

Tzetzes had already highlighted the shortage of paper at the end of Historiai V 28. There he does not make reference to the volume's πίναξ, but he declares that he must be careful not to waste space. Again he deals with the ‘invention’ of the alphabet, quoting the first three lines of the oracle:Footnote ⁴²

By taking up the scribal persona, Tzetzes turns material limitations (as well as his apparent miscalculation) into a source of pride. His strategy also reveals the liberty that copyists were expected to take in reshuffling and reworking compilations such as the Historiai.Footnote ⁴³ More crucially, however, Tzetzes’ split persona supports the construction of his all-encompassing authorial prowess. The Historiai are presented as a sort of book of books, including all the possible secular knowledge, duly stored in Tzetzes’ memory. In another passage of his commentary on the epistle to Lachanas, he describes himself without hesitation as a breathing library;Footnote ⁴⁴

On another occasion, Tzetzes argues that his memory is unmatched among his contemporaries. Again, it is an occasional lapse that triggers his boast:Footnote ⁴⁵

The Historiai truly represent Tzetzes’ own ‘book of memory’, to use Carruthers’ seminal definition.Footnote ⁴⁶ And yet, the space available is not enough to include all the author's accumulated knowledge. Tzetzes could write more, but lack of space prevents him from exhaustiveness. In turn, as we have seen, his mind is represented as an inscribed tablet from where he reads and reproduces what he needs. This image was common in both the Western and Byzantine Middle Ages, ultimately originating in ancient Greek literature.Footnote ⁴⁷ Thus, through the Historiai, Tzetzes turns rote memorization – one of the Byzantine ‘inscribed’ practices of memory highlighted by Amy PapalexandrouFootnote ⁴⁸ — into a self-standing literary work. In doing so, he uses traditional tropes associated with the notions of cultural memory as well as with literary production and consumption. First, he depicts himself as a sort of ‘breathing library’. This image surfaces also in the more or less contemporary letter collection of Michael Italikos, in connection with Nikephoros Bryennios who is referred to as ἔμψυχος βιβλιοθήκη.Footnote ⁴⁹ The same image, developed with greater detail, is to be found in Eustathios’ speech in honour of the patriarch Michael o tou Anchialou:Footnote ⁵⁰

Nikephoros and the patriarchFootnote ⁵¹ are depicted as repositories and sources of inexhaustible wisdom and rhetorical ability. Such a representation is uncontroversial. Both are seen as authoritative role models, sources from which listeners can draw fully. Michael and Nikephoros belong to a well-established system of power and knowledge. Their eulogy follows widely accepted patterns of communication and takes place in formalized, if not institutional settings: epistolary exchange in the case of Michael; a public ceremony involving the μαίστωρ of the rhetors and his pupils in the case of Eustathios.Footnote ⁵² Yet, as Yun Lee Too has shown for the Graeco-Roman period, the trope of the ‘breathing library’ can effectively be used also to express criticism toward established networks of authority.Footnote ⁵³ It can serve the purpose of countering marginality and as such it is a means of self-empowerment. Seen from this angle, the embodied library becomes ‘a focus of intellectual power’ and a source of independent criticism on past and present authorities. Intellectuals who label themselves as breathing libraries stand against the monumentalized and imposing supremacy of physical collections. This is exactly how Tzetzes uses the image, by attributing the trope to himself in a unique act of self-legitimation.

In Tzetzes’ highly competitive world, memory was an important cultural commodity, one that books could boost and enhance. Having free and easy access to libraries was a sign of social prestige. An established intellectual and public figure as Eustathios of Thessalonike, for instance, is often depicted and depicts himself as the owner of many books and as an avid collector.Footnote ⁵⁴ Against this background, Tzetzes boasts of his autonomy, fashioning himself as a self-sufficient and self-contained literary archive. He does not need social recognition, just as he does not need books to compile the Historiai. The claim of knowing by heart every book ever written is a powerful statement of cultural supremacy, one that goes hand-in-hand with the criticism exerted by Tzetzes on past and present authors. After all, the image of the walking library was associated with the notion of criticism as early as Eunapius, who describes Longinus as ‘a breathing library and walking museum, (. . .) entrusted with the task of judging ancient [authors]’.Footnote ⁵⁵

The trope of the ‘breathing’, ‘living’ or ‘walking’ library is certainly a long-lived one. Tzetzes’ method of exploiting it, however, is truly Byzantine in that the Historiai represents an extreme development of traditional didactic tools. The title suggests a collection of exemplary stories from the past and the letter to Lachanas is designed precisely so as to contain as many references and quotations as possible and to become a suitable starting point not only for commentary but also for the insertion of narratives and paradigmatic anecdotes. In other words it is a pretext for the ensuing compilation. In the three lines introducing the first ‘story’ about Croesus, Tzetzes addresses a pupil who has been assigned the task of learning with the greatest care the narratives alluded to in the letter to Lachanas.Footnote ⁵⁶ Throughout the work, moreover, the address ὦ τέκνον surfaces time and again.Footnote ⁵⁷ Such an address points to the original purpose of the single ‘stories’ – as if didactic ‘units’ — or, perhaps, even to the inscribed intended audience of the work, that is an ideal unnamed pupil. At least at a formal level, the commentary presents itself as a learning tool. Tzetzes’ mnemonic power is used to train the memory of (potential) students who are expected to incorporate their teacher's ‘stories’.Footnote ⁵⁸

And yet, the work's aim goes well beyond its declared didactic purpose, as we have seen. The compilation-commentary is ultimately used to sustain and shape Tzetzes’ biographical persona. Tzetzes combines two traditional formats, the commentary and the compilation, into a new product, a self-commentary wherein the self pervasively informs the text. The tablet metaphor through which Tzetzes emphasizes his own mnemonic power is another traditional tropeFootnote ⁵⁹ leading to the same result. Tzetzes describes the books he has memorized as fully internalized, inscribed in his mind and heart. Memorization of books and authors, literary composition and personal/affective memories are inextricably intertwined. In the letter 13 addressed to Manuel Gabrielakites,Footnote ⁶⁰ Tzetzes mentions again the death of his brother, recalling how his ‘mnemonic mind’ was annihilated precisely by the memory of Isaac:Footnote ⁶¹

Letter 13 shows that memory, while integral to the creative process, is not a neutral storehouse. Literary and historical reminiscences are deeply ingrained in the psychological fabric of the individual. In the self-commentary on the letter to Lachanas Tzetzes explains that for him such a process of internalization began during childhood, when his father was in charge of his education.Footnote ⁶² Surely, his personal experience adds to the exemplarity of the stories presented in the commentary-compilation, blurring the line between cultural and personal memories.

Ultimately the Historiai can be defined as Tzetzes’ ‘book of memory’ in three ways: it is designed as a comprehensive sample of Tzetzes’ prodigious memory; the first part is explicitly intended as a learning tool to be memorized by pupils; it encompasses Tzetzes’ biographical reminiscences naturally boosted by the epistolary sub-text. In the next section I will explore the strategies through which Tzetzes blends together experience and exemplarity in the epistle to Lachanas and in the relevant self-commentary.

The letter to Lachanas: exemplarity and experience

The composition of the Historiai as an independent work was prompted, as we have seen, by the verse epistle to John Lachanas, designed by the author for self-commentary. We know Lachanas also from Tzetzes’ letter collection, in which he features as addressee of Ep. 105.Footnote ⁶³ The letter is a short and apologetic missive in which Tzetzes tries to defend himself from the allegation of malicious gossip:

The letter, composed in 1155,Footnote ⁶⁵ proves that the relationship between Lachanas and Tzetzes was already strained at that date. In a typical move, Tzetzes does not try to deny the allegation; rather, he acknowledges it through a learned allusion, indirectly reaffirming its inherent truth.Footnote ⁶⁶ The addressee, Lachanas, is known also from Eustathios’ letter collection,Footnote ⁶⁷ where he is praised as a man well versed in literature and rhetoric. In the letter, Eustathios also speaks about his own didactic activities and his public performances as an orator.

The relationship between Tzetzes and Lachanas seems to worsen when the latter is granted the office of ζαβαρειώτης, or official responsible for the arsenal. Tzetzes’ social resentment and, apparently, Lachanas’ new contemptuous demeanour provide the pretext for the verse epistle ‘opening’ the Historiai.

The letter consists of lengthy lists of mythological and historical examples, interspersed with more narrative, autobiographical sections. The first section of the letter (IV 471–555) includes a series of mythical exempla, designed to illustrate Lachanas’ enormous pride about his new office.Footnote ⁶⁸ Mythical parallels begin with Croesus, boasting his treasure and end, in a mock-epic crescendo, with Sesostris, whom the Assyrians regarded as a God κοσμοκράτωρ. Besides providing abundant material for the self-commentary,Footnote ⁶⁹ the quantity and quality of the exempla serve the obvious purpose of caricaturing Lachanas’ arrogance. The learned introduction is followed by a narrative section (IV 556–603), in which Tzetzes eventually declares the reason for his resentment toward his former correspondent and recalls the education received by his father. The final mention of the ‘bonds of friendship’ broken by his former friend paves the way to a further section of exempla, in which Tzetzes tries to demonstrate that even senseless objects are more grateful than Lachanas (IV 604–714). The anticlimax is: barbarians, animals, plants, inanimate objects. A parenetic section follows, wherein Tzetzes again reminds his addressee that only virtue and friendship can escape the powerful hands of oblivion (IV 715–730). This prompts a new list of paradigmatic narratives about forgotten glories (IV 731–767). A final parenetic section closes the piece (IV 767–779). Overall the tone of the letter is stern and judgmental. The final lines, however, cast some doubts on the ‘reality’ of Tzetzes’ grudge:Footnote ⁷⁰

Tzetzes is referring here to a series of vernacular insults that followed the text in his master-copy and that did not find their way into the final editorial product to be published.Footnote ⁷¹ Such insults are labelled as ἀστεΐσματα. Floris Bernard has recently highlighted the social value (they worked as a sort of ‘glue’) of witticisms and urban jokes, especially within groups sharing, or having shared, the same educational setting.Footnote ⁷² It is therefore likely that in his master copy Tzetzes had put on paper the sort of satirical banter usually exchanged orally in school environments.

In fact, reproaches against (former) friends who all of a sudden stop corresponding are common currency in Byzantine letter-collections. To confine myself just to one example from the twelfth century, I will mention the similar case of Michael Italikos and Theodore Prodromos reproaching one Lizix of having forgotten them.Footnote ⁷³ While Michael's letter is milder, Prodromos does not hesitate to use harsh tones against their friend. In the first letter, he mentions a new ‘honour’ which is apparently keeping Lizix so busy as to prevent him from writing to his old friends. He accuses Lizix of betraying belles lettres in favour of more mundane occupations. In the second and more resentful letter Theodore reminds Lizix of the time they spent together as students when he, Lizix and possibly Michael, were so close that they wished they had been born from the same mother.Footnote ⁷⁴ Theodore goes on to reproach Lizix for his present life choices. The old friend has now turned into an orator à la mode, wrapped in lavish clothes, exuding perfume and enjoying luscious food. Theodore seems to voice a deep nostalgia for a time that is now lost forever and the frequent exclamations as well as the rhetorical questions interspersed in the letter lend a very personal accent to it. And yet, by reading the description of the ‘new’ Lizix, one gets a sense of déjà-vu. Indeed, the picture drawn by Theodore resonates with the portrait of the vain professional performer traced by Michael Choniates in Πρὸς τοὺς αἰτιωμένους τὸ φιλένδεικτον.Footnote ⁷⁵ The two descriptions share also the striking detail of the fat mule carrying around the successful orators.Footnote ⁷⁶ In both Theodore's letter and Choniates’ pamphlet culture and belles lettres are contrasted with social climbing, a strategy occurring also in Tzetzes’ epistle to Lachanas as well as in the relevant commentary. An assiduous frequenting of old books and authors is wilfully preferred by Tzetzes over boasting material riches and such choice starkly defines his persona. Equally, Theodore stresses that his personal ‘boast’ (ἔχομεν οἷς αὐχήσομεν) lies in the books delivered (quite literally: ὠδινήθεισας) by the ancient authors as well as in those that he himself delivers (ὠδινάντες ἀποτέκνοντες) by reading the former (ἐκεῖθεν).Footnote ⁷⁷

Recently, Manolis Bourbouhakis has cast some doubt on the seriousness of Choniates’ concerns in Τὸ φιλένδεικτον.Footnote ⁷⁸ The similarities with Lizix's portrait in Theodore's letter suggest indeed that we have to do here with stock accusations, which perhaps do not entail a real acrimony between the actors involved. Tzetzes’ four final lines seem to imply exactly the same rationale.

Regardless of the real relationship between Tzetzes and Lachanas, the aims and the literary strategy underpinning the letter are clear. Lachanas’ alleged misdemeanour is the pretext allowing Tzetzes to trace his ideal self-portrait. In the epistle to Lachanas we find a significant consistency between the tone of the letter and that of the self-commentary. The persona embodied by Tzetzes is ultimately one and the same both in the served and in the serving text: Tzetzes preaches modesty, advocating — and seemingly accepting — his ‘unsuccessful’ life-style. Panagiotis Agapitos has shown that such an apologetic move is actually typical of him and testifies to his belonging to the middle strata of Constantinopolitan society and to his ultimately conservative attitude.Footnote ⁷⁹ Therefore, Tzetzes claims for himself the education received from his father, who used the same stories now displayed by his son in order to teach him the vanity of life:Footnote ⁸⁰

As we have seen, this autobiographical cameo comes after a long string of exemplary tales. Tzetzes intertwines personal and cultural memories, using them for the same moralizing purpose. Moreover, the biographical account gives Tzetzes the opportunity to enlarge on more historical examples: Cato, Solon (with Croesus) and the doctor Theodore who turned Chaganos into a friend of the Romans by telling him the story of Sesostris.Footnote ⁸¹ The exempla partially overlap with those already treated in the first part. The tale about Sesostris, for instance, features both here and among those used by Tzetzes to criticize Lachanas. Finally, if we take the perspective of the inscribed audience (potential or actual pupils), autobiography and paradigmatic histories/myths become part of the same textbook, designed to be memorized (and re-performed?). Tzetzes’ private life events are thus turned into a didactic tool. His own experience is turned into an exemplary, cautionary tale and thus saved from temporality and oblivion. The goal of such a design is arguably to have future generations look at Tzetzes’ life as a full-fledged ‘story’, side by side with those of Cato or Solon. In other words, Tzetzes exploits the potential of contemporary didactic practices so as to bequeath to contemporary and future audiences the memory of his idealized Self. The association of paradigmatic examples and personal experience is a quite common rhetorical strategy. Tzetzes’ text stands out precisely in that his own experience is memorialized and transformed straight away into a model to be studied and commented upon. His endeavour is all the more exceptional as the Byzantines, while keen commentators of ancient authors, were not so much inclined to comment on their own literature. In this respect Tzetzes’ work represents a very distinctive break with tradition, as he regards not only his work but his own persona as worthy of commentary.

It should be noticed, once again, that the most striking hallmark of this ideal persona is the ability to remember. Such skill places Tzetzes in a position of superiority towards literary tradition. Memory allows him to judge any book ever produced:Footnote ⁸²

Along the same lines, the iambic verses following the second edition of the Historiai include a seal, or sphragis, wherein Tzetzes appoints himself ‘auditor of the ancients and of the moderns’:Footnote ⁸⁵

Tzetzes imitates here the bureaucratic language of notaries and imperial officers. Thanks to his memory he can become a self-titled ‘auditor’ or accountant. In comparison with this title, which nullifies geographical and chronological boundaries, actual appointments, such as Lachanas’, pale and become meaningless.

To conclude, by putting together the Historiai Tzetzes truly composed a Byzantine book of memory. Memory with all its facets is the work's backbone: memory as recollection of the past, be that cultural (anecdotes, myths, stories, fragments of ancient authors) or personal (autobiography), memory as the ability to both memorize and write, memory as exercised by the inscribed reader (i.e. as a didactic tool) and, finally, memory as a desire to be remembered by the generations to come. Undoubtedly, this was Tzetzes’ ultimate and most important goal when writing the Historiai. Judging from the number of manuscripts preserving such an idiosyncratic work, it was actually a successful endeavour.