These later writers have called attention to the internal evidence of the improbability of the picture of Theodora. There are in the statements glaring inconsistencies with the other works of Procopius, and inconsistencies within the anecdotes themselves. Many stories told of Justinian are obviously overdrawn and dictated by inventive malice, and these vitiate the entire narrative. Furthermore, the question of the marriage law is triumphantly set aside. The edict abolishing the Old Roman law was passed seven years after Justinian's succession, and was in accordance with other legislation inspired by Theodora, to ameliorate the condition of woman. The external evidence, also, has been carefully sifted. The legal maxim, Testis unus, Testis nullus, applies in history as well as in law. A single witness has related the most incredible stories. Nowhere in other historians is there a shred of evidence to support the story of Theodora's flagitious life. These stories could have no basis other than in popular rumors; how is it, therefore, that no other chronicle alludes to them? Orthodox ecclesiastics violently attack Theodora's heresy, and speak of her as an enemy of the Church, but write not a word against her private reputation. Historians condemn in unmeasured terms certain features of Justinian's administration, and dwell on other faults of Theodora, but say never a word about her profligacy. Why are all other writers silent about the dark passages in Theodora's history? Even the Secret History alleges nothing immoral against her after her marriage: why then should we take its testimony seriously regarding the earlier period of her life? The silence of all other chronicles about extraordinary occurrences, which, if true, must have been generally known, throws doubt over the whole narrative and places it in the light of an infamous libel.

And here is a final argument. Justinian was no mere youth when he married, but a sober gentleman of thirty-five, the heir apparent to the throne, who had to keep in the good graces of the people. Would he at so momentous a time have perpetrated so infamous a scandal? And would it have been possible for a woman of such notorious profligacy to ascend the throne without a protest from patriarch or bishop or senators or populace? The outward life of the Byzantine people, owing to the influence of Christianity, was usually correct. A little later an emperor lost his throne because he divorced one wife and took another. Theodora's triumphant ascent to the throne, without a protesting voice, is conclusive evidence that no great scandal had sullied her reputation.

Yet, on the other hand, panegyrists never lauded Theodora as a saint. She was neither a Pulcheria nor a Eudocia. Many traits in the character of the empress accord well with the fact that her early life was not passed amid beds of roses nor had been altogether free from temptation. Hence, with the story reduced to its lowest terms, it seems probable that Theodora was of obscure and lowly origin, that she was for a time connected in some way with the Byzantine stage, and that, owing to her beauty, her cleverness, and her strong personality, she was raised from poverty to share Justinian's throne. But, whatever her career, her life had been sufficiently upright to save appearances, and Justinian could make her his wife without scandal.

The turn of fortune which elevated Theodora from modest station to the imperial throne deeply stirred the popular imagination, and a cycle of legends has gathered about her name. The stranger in Byzantium in the eleventh century was shown the site of a modest cottage, transformed into a stately church dedicated to the spirit of charity, and was told the story how the great empress, coming with her parents from their native town in Cyprus, had here maintained herself in honorable poverty by spinning wool, and how it was here that the patrician Justinian, drawn thither by the fame of her beauty and her learning, had wooed and won her for his bride. However little value we may attach to this tradition, it shows that in Constantinople the popular estimate of Theodora was not that of the Secret History. The Slavic traditions of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries not only dwell on her marvellous beauty, but also recount that she was the most queenly, the most cultivated, the most learned of women. The Syriac traditions were still more flattering. In their devout reverence for the pious empress who espoused their cause, these Monophysites of the thirteenth century name as the father of Theodora, not the poor man who guarded the bears in the Hippodrome, but a pious old gentleman, perhaps a senator, attached to the Monophysite heresy, and affirm that when Justinian, fascinated by the beauty and intelligence of the young maiden, demanded her hand in marriage, the good father did not consent that she should marry the heir apparent until the latter had promised not to interfere with her religious beliefs.

A western chronicler, however, of the eleventh century, Aimoin de Fleury, recounts a legend which has something of the flavor of the Secret History. According to this story, Justinian and Belisarius, two young men and intimate friends, encountered one day two sisters, Antonia and Antonina, sprung from the race of Amazons, who, taken prisoners by the Byzantines, were reduced to dire straits. Belisarius was enamored of the latter, Justinian of the former. Antonia, presaging the future destiny of her lover, made him promise that, if ever he became emperor, he would take her as his wife. Their relations were interrupted, but not before Justinian gave to Antonia a ring, as an assurance of his promise. Years passed: the prince became emperor; and one day there appeared at the gate of the palace, demanding audience, a woman in rich attire and of wonderful beauty. Presented before the sovereign, Antonia was not at first recognized; but she showed the ring and recalled his promise, and Justinian, his love for her renewed, proclaimed straightway the beautiful Amazon as his empress. The people and the senate expressed some surprise at the impromptu marriage, but Antonia shared without protest the throne of Justinian.

Thus the marvellous destiny of Theodora was embellished by legend and romance, and, whether good or bad, severely correct or profligate, she has become one of the most remarkable figures of history and fiction.

Questions as to the early life of Theodora, however, are secondary in importance. We are interested not in the courtesan but in the empress, and, for the incidents and the influence of her reign, we have fortunately other information than that of the Secret History.

Sardou's drama Theodora represents its heroine as preserving on the throne the manners of the courtesan, as delighting in the life of the theatre, as leaving the palace by night to frequent the streets of Constantinople, as having an amorous intrigue with the beautiful Andreas, as being in fact another, but baser and more voluptuous, Messalina. But even the Secret History represents Theodora, after she mounted the throne, as being, with all her faults, the most austere, the most correct, the most irreproachable of women in her conjugal relations.

Whatever her origin and her early life, Theodora adapted herself most readily to the status and the duties of an imperial sovereign. She loved and partook fully of the amenities which attended supreme authority. In her apartments of the royal palace, and in her sumptuous villas and gardens on the Propontis and the Bosporus, she availed herself of all the luxuries and refinements of the royal station. Ever womanly and vain of her physical charms, she took extreme care of her beauty. To make her countenance reposeful and delicate, she prolonged her slumbers until late in the morning; to give her figure sprightliness and grace, she took frequent baths, to which succeeded long hours of repose. Not content with the meagre fare which satisfied Justinian, her table was always supplied with the best of Oriental dishes, which were served with exquisite and delicate taste. Every wish was immediately gratified by her favorite ladies and eunuchs. Like a true parvenue, she delighted in the elaborate court etiquette. She made the highest dignitaries prostrate themselves before her, imposing on those who wished audience long and humiliating delays. Every morning one could see the most illustrious personages of Byzantium crowded in her antechamber like a troop of slaves, and, when they were admitted to kiss the feet of Theodora, their reception depended altogether upon the humor of the moment. These details show with what facility, with what complaisance, Theodora adapted herself to the conditions of her rank.

One must not infer, however, that the Theodora of history was a woman merely captivated by the outward pomp of royalty. She possessed all the intellectual and moral gifts which should attend absolute power, and her rigid enforcement of Oriental etiquette was merely to impress upon others her supreme authority, and was in conformity to the demand of her age. Her salient characteristics were a spirit despotic and inflexible, a will strong and passionate, an intelligence clever and subtle, a temperament by turns frigid and sympathetic; and by these gifts she dominated Justinian without intermission from the moment of her marriage to her death, and impressed upon all those about her the knowledge that she was in every sense an absolute sovereign.