“The greatest figure of letters in the eleventh century and, perhaps, in the entire Byzantine history”; “the most

witty,
playful, and original of Byzantine authors…one of the best kept secrets in European history”; “an interesting
mixture of érudit, exhibitionist, and spokesman for the politically and theologically orthodox order”; “an exemplary
Byzantine soul in which the highest spiritual gifts and the most absolute mediocrity of character coexist in such a
disconcerting mixture”; “philosopher…one against all…poet”; “incomparable in speech”; “an unpleasant and
arrogant man”; “one originating in many; yet also…many from one.”

These sentences by modern and Byzantine writers are just a sample of the numerous, superlative, and contradictory
characterizations of Michael Psellos, the eleventh-century Constantinopolitan rhetor, teacher, and courtier. The last
phrase, from Psellos himself, rightly suggests that there are many “Pselloi.” For some readers, he is an egotistical
rhetor and a typical Byzantine courtier; for them, Psellos’ name is identical to servile “rhetoric,” the verbosity with
neither meaning nor sincerity, that supposedly prevailed in the Constantinopolitan court. For others, Psellos is a
protagonist in Byzantine cultural history, a kind of secular saint in a medieval world otherwise bound by a
(supposed) theocentric conservatism. Psellos’ writings offer them proofs of an appealing non-religious Byzantine
“literature.” His thought signals some form of Byzantine “humanism,” “renaissance,” and “enlightenment.”

Throughout his career as a teacher and public speaker, Psellos was what we might call a
professional intellectual. In eleventh-century Constantinople, this social profile was identified
primarily by the terms “philosopher” and “rhetor.” The two terms had a long history and evoked
two distinct disciplines. As practices, both could support and enhance public careers in
Byzantium. As professions, however, they had a significantly different social cachet. Philosophy
was clearly superior. As knowledge and guardianship of truth, philosophia with its various
meanings carried a value that remained more or less unquestioned, even if people identified as
philosophers were occasionally suspected of heresy. By contrast, rhetoric had almost consistently
an ambiguous moral status. Capacity with words could suggest improper preoccupation with
deception and appearances and thus evoke suspicion of hypocrisy.

In texts of different genres and for different audiences, Psellos identified himself as a
philosopher, but also as a rhetor. Most commonly and insistently, he presented himself as
someone who combined the two disciplines in a perfect fashion, an insistence that was not easy
to pull off. What was the history and immediate context of this idiosyncratic professional
persona?

Psellos wrote a great many texts: 493 titles along with 515 letters survive. These texts are transmitted in
approximately 765 MSS; about a third of these date from the twelfth through to the fourteenth century. In their
original context, several of Psellos’ texts would have been performed before varying audiences, while others would
have been read by persons in his wide network of friends, patrons, clients, and students. In their written form, these
texts would have circulated along this same network. As we saw earlier, Psellos refers to students and friends who
recited and collected his works. Some of these collections, made by Psellos’ students and admirers (Theophylaktos
Hephaistos, for example), might be reflected in later manuscripts, though the evidence is inconclusive.