by Will Durant
Justinian made a decisive change in the law of property. The ancient privilege of agnate relatives—relatives through the male line—to inherit an intestate property was abolished; such inheritance was now to descend to the cognate relatives in direct line—children, grandchildren, etc. Charitable gifts and bequests were encouraged by the Code. The property of the Church, whether in realty or movables, rents, serfs, or slaves, was declared inalienable; no member, and no number of members, of the clergy or the laity could give, sell, or bequeath anything belonging to the Church. These laws of Leo I and Anthemius, confirmed by the Code, became the legal basis of the Church’s growing wealth: secular property was dissipated, ecclesiastical property was accumulated, in the course of generations. The Church tried, and failed, to have interest forbidden. Defaulting debtors could be arrested, but were to be released on bail or on their oath to return for trial.
No one could be imprisoned except by order of a high magistrate; and there were strict limits to the time that might elapse between arrest and trial. Lawyers were so numerous that Justinian built for them a basilica whose size may be judged from its library of 150,000 volumes or rolls. Trial was to be held before a magistrate appointed by the emperor; but if both parties so wished, the case could be transferred to the bishop’s court. A copy of the Bible was placed before the judge in each trial; the attorneys were required to swear on it that they would do their best to defend their clients honorably, but would resign their case if they found it dishonest; plaintiff and defendant had also to swear on it to the justice of their cause. Penalties, though severe, were seldom mandatory; the judge might mitigate them for women, minors, and drunken offenders. Imprisonment was used as detention for trial, but seldom as a punishment. The Justinian Code retrogressed from the laws of Hadrian and Antoninus Pius by permitting mutilation as a penalty. Tax collectors falsifying returns, and persons copying Monophysite literature, could suffer the loss of a hand, on the theory that the offending member should pay for the crime. Amputation of nose or throat is frequently decreed in the Code; later Byzantine law added blinding, especially as a means for disqualifying heirs or aspirants to the throne. The death penalty was carried out on free persons by beheading, on some slaves by crucifixion. Sorcerers and deserters from the army were burned alive. A condemned citizen might appeal to a higher court, then to the Senate, finally to the emperor.
We can admire the Code of Justinian more readily as a whole than in its parts. It differs most from earlier codes by its rigid orthodoxy, its deeper obscurantism, its vengeful severity. An educated Roman would have found life more civilized under the Antonines than under Justinian. The Emperor could not escape his environment and his time; and in his ambition to unify everything he codified the superstition and barbarity, as well as the justice and charity, of his age. The Code was conservative, like everything Byzantine, and served as a strait jacket for a civilization that seemed destined never to die. It soon ceased to be obeyed except in a narrowing realm. The Eastern nationalist heretics whom it flayed opened their arms to the Moslems, and prospered better under the Koran than under the Code. Italy under the Lombards, Gaul under the Franks, England under the Anglo-Saxons, Spain under the Visigoths, ignored the edicts of Justinian. Nevertheless the Code for some generations gave order and security to a motley assemblage of peoples, and allowed, across the frontiers and along the streets of a dozen nations, freer and safer movement than the same regions enjoy today. It continued to the end the code of the Byzantine Empire; and five centuries after it disappeared in the West it was revived by the jurists of Bologna, accepted by emperors and popes, and entered like a scaffolding of order into the structure of many modern states.
V. THE IMPERIAL THEOLOGIAN
It remained only to unify belief, to weld the Church into a homogeneous instrument of rule. Probably Justinian’s piety was sincere, not merely political; he himself, as far as Theodora would permit, lived like a monk in his palace, fasting and praying, poring over theological tomes, and debating doctrinal niceties with professors, patriarchs, and popes. Procopius, with transparent concurrence, quotes a conspirator: “It ill becomes anyone who has even a little spirit in him to refuse to murder Justinian; nor should he entertain any fear of a man who always sits unguarded in some lobby to a late hour of the night, eagerly unrolling the Christian Scriptures in company with priests who are at the extremity of old age.”26 Almost the first use that Justinian had made of his power as regent for Justin was to end the breach that had been widened between the Eastern and the Western Church by the Emperor Zeno’s Henoticon. By accepting the viewpoint of the papacy, Justinian won the support of the orthodox clergy in Italy against the Goths, and in the East against the Monophysites.
This sect, arguing passionately that there was but one nature in Christ, had become almost as numerous in Egypt as the Catholics. In Alexandria they were so advanced that they in turn could divide into orthodox and heterodox Monophysites; these factions fought in the streets, while their women joined in with missiles from the roofs. When the armed forces of the Emperor installed a Catholic bishop in the see of Athanasius, the congregation greeted his first sermon with a volley of stones, and was slaughtered in situ by the imperial soldiery. While Catholicism controlled the Alexandrian episcopacy, heresy spread throughout the countryside; the peasants ignored the decrees of the patriarch and the orders of the Emperor, and Egypt was half lost to the Empire a century before the Arabs came.
In this matter, as in many others, the persistent Theodora overcame the vacillating Justinian. She intrigued with Vigilius, a Roman deacon, to make him pope if he would offer concessions to the Monophysites. Pope Silverius was removed from Rome by Belisarius (537), and was exiled to the island of Palmaria, where he soon died from harsh treatment; and Vigilius was made Pope by the orders of the Emperor. Finally accepting Theodora’s view that Monophysitism could not be crushed, Justinian sought to appease its followers in a document of imperial theology known as the Three Chapters. He summoned Vigilius to Constantinople, and urged him to subscribe to this statement. Vigilius reluctantly consented, whereupon the African Catholic clergy excommunicated him (550); he withdrew his consent, was exiled by Justinian to a rock in the Proconnesus, again consented, obtained leave to return to Rome, but died on the way (555). Never had an emperor made so open an attempt to dominate the papacy. Justinian called an ecumenical council to meet at Constantinople (553); hardly any Western bishops attended; the council approved Justinian’s formulas, the Western Church rejected them, and Eastern and Western Christianity resumed their schism for a century.
In the end death won all arguments. Theodora’s passing in 548 was to Justinian the heaviest of many blows that broke down his courage, clarity, and strength. He was then sixty-five, weakened by asceticism and recurrent crises; he left the government to subordinates, neglected the defenses he had so labored to build, and abandoned himself to theology. A hundred disasters darkened the remaining seventeen years during which he outlived himself. Earthquakes were especially frequent in this reign; a dozen cities were almost wiped out by them; and their rehabilitation drained the Treasury. In 542 plague came; in 556 famine, in 558 plague again. In 559 the Kotrigur Huns crossed the Danube, plundered Moesia and Thrace, took thousands of captives, violated matrons, virgins, and nuns, threw to the dogs the infants born to women captives on the march, and advanced to the walls of Constantinople. The terrified Emperor appealed to the great general who had so often saved him. Belisarius was old and feeble; nevertheless he put on his armor, gathered 300 veterans who had fought with him in Italy, recruited a few hundred untrained men, and went out to meet 7000 Huns. He disposed his forces with his wonted foresight and skill, concealing 200 of his best soldiers in adjoining woods. When the Huns moved forward these men fell upon their flank, while Belisarius met the attack at the head of his little army. The barbarians turned and fled before a single Roman was mortally injured. The populace at the capital complained that Belisarius had not pursued the enemy and brought back
the Hun leader as captive. The jealous Emperor listened to envious calumnies against his general, suspected him of conspiracy, and ordered him to dismiss his armed retainers. Belisarius died in 565, and Justinian confiscated half his property.
The Emperor outlived the general by eight months. In his final years his interest in theology had borne strange fruit: the defender of the faith had become a heretic. He announced that the body of Christ was incorruptible, and that Christ’s human nature had never been subject to any of the wants and indignities of mortal flesh. The clergy warned him that if he died in this error his soul would “be delivered to the flames, and burn there eternally.”27 He died unrepentant (565), after a life of eighty-three years, and a reign of thirty-eight.
Justinian’s death was one more point at which antiquity might be said to end. He was a true Roman emperor, thinking in terms of all the Empire East and West, struggling to keep back the barbarians, and to bring again to the vast realm an orderly government of homogeneous laws. He had accomplished a good measure of this aim: Africa, Dalmatia, Italy, Corsica, Sardinia, Sicily, and part of Spain had been regained; the Persians had been driven out of Syria; the Empire had doubled its extent in his reign. Though his legislation was barbarously severe on heresy and sexual immorality, it represented, by its unity, lucidity, and scope, one of the peaks in the history of law. His administration was sullied with official corruption, extreme taxation, capricious pardons and punishments; but it was also distinguished by a painstaking organization of imperial economy and government; and it created a system of order which, though a stranger to freedom, held civilization together in a corner of Europe while the rest of the continent plunged into the Dark Ages. He left his name upon the history of industry and art; St. Sophia is also his monument. To orthodox contemporaries it must have seemed that once more the Empire had turned back the tide, and won a respite from death.
It was a pitifully brief respite. Justinian had left the treasury empty, as he had found it full; his intolerant laws and thieving taxgatherers had alienated nations as fast as his armies had conquered them; and those armies, decimated, scattered, and ill paid, could not long defend what they had so devastatingly won. Africa was soon abandoned to the Berbers; Syria, Palestine, Egypt, Africa, and Spain to the Arabs; Italy to the Lombards; within a century after Justinian’s death the Empire had lost more territory than he had gained. With proud hindsight we may see how much better it would have been to gather the rising nationalities and creeds into a federated union; to offer friendship to the Ostrogoths who had governed Italy comparatively well; and to serve as a protective medium through which the ancient culture might flow unstinted to the newborn states.
We need not accept Procopius’ estimate of Justinian; it was refuted by Procopius himself.28 He was a great ruler, whose very faults sprang from the logic and sincerity of his creed: his persecutions from his certainty, his wars from his Roman spirit, his confiscations from his wars. We mourn the narrow violence of his methods, and applaud the grandeur of his aims. He and Belisarius, not Boniface and Aëtius, were the last of the Romans.
CHAPTER VI
Byzantine Civilization
326–565
I. WORK AND WEALTH
BYZANTINE economy was a modernistic mixture of private enterprise, state regulation, and nationalized industries. Peasant proprietorship was still, under Justinian, the agricultural rule; but estates were expanding, and many farmers were being forced into feudal subjection to great landowners by drought or flood, competition or incompetence, taxation or war. The mineral resources of the soil were owned by the state, but were mostly mined by private agencies on governmental lease. The mines of Greece were exhausted, but old and new veins were worked in Thrace, Pontus, and the Balkans. Most industrial labor was “free”—i.e., compelled only by a distaste for starvation. Direct slavery played a negligible role outside of domestic services and the textile industry; but in Syria, and probably in Egypt and North Africa, forced labor was used by the state to maintain the major irrigation canals.1 The government produced in its own factories most of the goods required by the army, the bureaucracy, and the court.2
About the year 552 some Nestorian monks from Central Asia interested Justinian with an offer to provide the Empire with an independent source of silk. If we recall how many wars Greece and Rome had fought with Persia for control of the trade routes to China and India, and remark the name “silk route” given to the northern passes to the Far East, the name Serica (Silk-land) given by the Romans to China, and the name Serindia applied to the region between China and India, we shall understand why Justinian eagerly accepted the proposal. The monks went back to Central Asia and returned with the eggs of silkworms, and probably some seedlings of the mulberry tree.3 A small silk industry already existed in Greece, but it depended upon wild silkworms, feeding on oak, ash, or cypress leaves. Now silk became a major industry, especially in Syria and Greece; it developed to such an extent in the Peloponnesus as to give that peninsula the new name of Morea—land of the mulberry tree (morus alba).
In Constantinople the manufacture of certain silk fabrics and purple dyes was a state monopoly, and was carried on in workshops in or near the imperial palace.4 Expensive silks and dyed fabrics were permitted only to high officials of the government, and the most costly could be worn only by members of the imperial family. When clandestine private enterprise produced and sold similar stuffs to unprivileged persons, Justinian broke this “black market” by removing most of the restrictions on the use of luxurious silks and dyes; he flooded the shops with state textiles at prices that private competition could not meet; and when the competition had disappeared the government raised the prices.5 Following Diocletian’s example, Justinian sought to extend governmental control to all prices and wages. After the plague of 542 the labor supply fell, wages rose, and prices soared. Like the English Parliament of 1351 after the plague of 1348, Justinian sought to help employers and consumers by a price and wage decree:
We have learned that since the visitation of God traders, artisans, husbandmen, and sailors have yielded to a spirit of covetousness, and are demanding prices and wages two or three times as great as they formerly received. … We forbid all such to demand higher wages or prices than before. We also forbid contractors for buildings, or for agricultural or other work, to pay the workmen more than was customary in old days.6
We have no information as to the effect of this decree.
From Constantine to the latter part of Justinian’s reign domestic and foreign trade flourished in the Byzantine Empire. Roman roads and bridges were there kept in repair, and the creative lust for gain built maritime fleets that bound the capital with a hundred ports in East and West. From the fifth century to the fifteenth Constantinople remained the greatest market and shipping center in the world. Alexandria, which had held this supremacy from the third century B.C., now ranked in trade below Antioch.7 All Syria throve with commerce and industry; it lay between Persia and Constantinople, between Constantinople and Egypt; its merchants were shrewd and venturesome, and only the effervescent Greeks could rival them in the extent of their traffic and the subtlety of their ways; their spread throughout the Empire was a factor in that orientalization of manners and arts which marked Byzantine civilization.
As the old trade route from Syria to Central Asia lay through hostile Persia, Justinian sought a new route by establishing friendly relations with the Himyarites of southwestern Arabia and the kings of Ethiopia, who between them controlled the southern gates of the Red Sea. Through those straits and the Indian Ocean Byzantine merchantmen sailed to India; but Persian control of Indian ports wrung the same tolls from this trade as if it had passed through Iran. Defeated on this line, Justinian encouraged the development of harbors on the Black Sea; along these stopping points goods were shipped by water to Colchis, and thence by caravan to Sogdiana, where Chinese and Western merchants could meet and haggle without Persian scrutiny. The rising traffic on this northern route helped to raise S
erindia to its medieval peak of wealth and art. Meanwhile Greek commerce maintained its ancient outlets in the West.
This active economy was supported by an imperial currency whose integrity gave it an almost global acceptance. Constantine had minted a new coin to replace Caesar’s aureus; this solidus or “bezant” contained 4.55 grams, or one sixth of a troy ounce of gold, and would be worth $5.83 in the United States of 1946. The metallic and economic deterioration of the solidus into the lowly sou illustrates the general rise of prices, and depreciation of currencies, through history, and suggests that thrift is a virtue which, like most others, must be practiced with discrimination. Banking was now highly developed. We may judge the prosperity of the Byzantine Empire at Justinian’s accession by his fixing of the maximum interest rate at four per cent on loans to peasants, six per cent on private loans secured by collateral, eight per cent on commercial loans, and twelve per cent on maritime investments.8 Nowhere else in the world of that time were interest rates so low.