Free A History of the Crusades-Vol 1 by Steven Runciman
Authors: Steven Runciman
universe.
If art is the mirror of civilization, Byzantine
civilization stood high. Its eleventh-century artists showed all the restraint
and balance of their classical ancestors; but they added two qualities derived
from Oriental tradition, the rich decorative formalism of the Iranians and the
mystical intensity of the ancient East. The works of the age that survive,
whether they be small ivories or great mosaic panels or provincial churches,
such as those of Daphne or Holy Luke in Greece, all display the same triumphant
synthesis of traditions merged into a perfect whole. The literature of the
time, though more hampered by the overstrong memory of classical achievement,
shows a variety all of excellent standard. We have the polished history of John
Diaconus, the delicate lyrics of Christopher of Mitylene, the sweeping popular epic
of Digenis Akritas, the rough, common-sense aphorisms of the soldier Cecaumenus
and the witty, cynical court memoirs of Michael Psellus. The atmosphere almost
has the complacency of the eighteenth century, but for an other-worldliness and
a pessimism from which Byzantium never was freed.
The Greek has a subtle and difficult character,
not to be recognized in the picture that popular students of the fifth century B.C.
like to paint. The Byzantine complicated this character with the strains of
eastern blood in him. The result was full of paradox. He was highly practical,
with an aptitude for business and a taste for worldly honours; yet he was
always ready to renounce the world for a life of monastic contemplation. He
believed fervently in the divine mission of the Empire and the divine authority
of the Emperor; yet he was an individualist, quick to rebel against a
government that displeased him. He had a horror of heresy; yet his religion,
most mystical of all the established forms of Christianity, allowed him, priest
and layman alike, great philosophical latitude. He despised all his neighbours
as barbarians; yet he easily adopted their habits and their ideas. Despite his
sophistication and his pride his nerve was unsteady. Disaster had so often
nearly overwhelmed Byzantium that his confidence in things was sapped. In a
sudden crisis he would panic and would indulge in savagery that in his calmer
moments he disdained. The present might be peaceful and brilliant; but
countless prophecies warned him that some day his city would perish, and he
believed them to be true. Happiness and tranquillity could not be found in this
dark transitory world, but only in the kingdom of Heaven.
The Decline of
Byzantine Economy
His fears were justified. The foundations of
Byzantine power were insufficiently sure. The great Empire had been organized
for defence. The provinces were governed by military officials, themselves
controlled by the civil administration at Constantinople. This system provided
an efficient local militia that could defend its district in times of invasion
and which could supplement the main imperial army on its great campaigns. But,
with the danger of invasion over, it gave too much power to the provincial
governor, especially if he were rich enough to ignore his paymaster at the
capital. Moreover, prosperity was ruining the agrarian organization of Asia
Minor. The backbone of Byzantium had been its communities of free peasants,
holding their land directly from the State, often in return for military services.
But, there as elsewhere in the Middle Ages, land was the only safe investment
for wealth. Every rich man sought to acquire land. The Church persuaded its
devotees to bequeath it land. Land was the usual reward given to successful
generals or deserving ministers of state. So long as the Empire was winning
back land from the enemy or repopulating areas emptied by raids and
devastation, all seemed well; but its very success created a land-hunger.
Magnates and monasteries could only increase their estates by buying out
peasants that were in need of cash or by taking over whole villages,
If art is the mirror of civilization, Byzantine
civilization stood high. Its eleventh-century artists showed all the restraint
and balance of their classical ancestors; but they added two qualities derived
from Oriental tradition, the rich decorative formalism of the Iranians and the
mystical intensity of the ancient East. The works of the age that survive,
whether they be small ivories or great mosaic panels or provincial churches,
such as those of Daphne or Holy Luke in Greece, all display the same triumphant
synthesis of traditions merged into a perfect whole. The literature of the
time, though more hampered by the overstrong memory of classical achievement,
shows a variety all of excellent standard. We have the polished history of John
Diaconus, the delicate lyrics of Christopher of Mitylene, the sweeping popular epic
of Digenis Akritas, the rough, common-sense aphorisms of the soldier Cecaumenus
and the witty, cynical court memoirs of Michael Psellus. The atmosphere almost
has the complacency of the eighteenth century, but for an other-worldliness and
a pessimism from which Byzantium never was freed.
The Greek has a subtle and difficult character,
not to be recognized in the picture that popular students of the fifth century B.C.
like to paint. The Byzantine complicated this character with the strains of
eastern blood in him. The result was full of paradox. He was highly practical,
with an aptitude for business and a taste for worldly honours; yet he was
always ready to renounce the world for a life of monastic contemplation. He
believed fervently in the divine mission of the Empire and the divine authority
of the Emperor; yet he was an individualist, quick to rebel against a
government that displeased him. He had a horror of heresy; yet his religion,
most mystical of all the established forms of Christianity, allowed him, priest
and layman alike, great philosophical latitude. He despised all his neighbours
as barbarians; yet he easily adopted their habits and their ideas. Despite his
sophistication and his pride his nerve was unsteady. Disaster had so often
nearly overwhelmed Byzantium that his confidence in things was sapped. In a
sudden crisis he would panic and would indulge in savagery that in his calmer
moments he disdained. The present might be peaceful and brilliant; but
countless prophecies warned him that some day his city would perish, and he
believed them to be true. Happiness and tranquillity could not be found in this
dark transitory world, but only in the kingdom of Heaven.
The Decline of
Byzantine Economy
His fears were justified. The foundations of
Byzantine power were insufficiently sure. The great Empire had been organized
for defence. The provinces were governed by military officials, themselves
controlled by the civil administration at Constantinople. This system provided
an efficient local militia that could defend its district in times of invasion
and which could supplement the main imperial army on its great campaigns. But,
with the danger of invasion over, it gave too much power to the provincial
governor, especially if he were rich enough to ignore his paymaster at the
capital. Moreover, prosperity was ruining the agrarian organization of Asia
Minor. The backbone of Byzantium had been its communities of free peasants,
holding their land directly from the State, often in return for military services.
But, there as elsewhere in the Middle Ages, land was the only safe investment
for wealth. Every rich man sought to acquire land. The Church persuaded its
devotees to bequeath it land. Land was the usual reward given to successful
generals or deserving ministers of state. So long as the Empire was winning
back land from the enemy or repopulating areas emptied by raids and
devastation, all seemed well; but its very success created a land-hunger.
Magnates and monasteries could only increase their estates by buying out
peasants that were in need of cash or by taking over whole villages,