Everyday Life in Byzantium

  78 A typical village well

  Great importance was attached to the village water supply. Wells, often built to serve also as embellishments, were placed at convenient points, forming pleasant meeting places for the women. Irrigation channels and open drains, often very unhealthy, ran through the village streets. Mills, whether worked by water, wind or animals such as oxen, mules or donkeys, stood at convenient points, often attached to the local church or monastery. The use of the water mill led to the establishment of the miller’s trade as separate from the baker’s, as the need for wind or a large flow of water often made it necessary for the mill to be built at some distance from the village and its bakery.

  Those who could afford the luxury maintained gardens. Digenis Akritas’ love of gardens was by no means unusual, though it is otherwise rarely recorded in literature. Most people had no space for flowers and grew them in pots. From the eighth century villages in prosperous districts were generally encircled by a belt of orchards, fig groves or vineyards, which in their turn gave way to arable fields. In the latter the peasants grew cereals, vegetables and salads. These fields were privately owned, but the pasture which enclosed them belonged to the village as a whole and was common land. A competent police force was entrusted with the duty of protecting the peasants’ property. To aid them in this difficult task travel in the countryside was strenuously discouraged, and all those who were obliged to undertake long journeys to the frontier areas had to carry travel documents.

  79 A water mill of the sixth century

  80 Labourers at work in a vineyard

  The peasants’ lives revolved round their family and church. The village priest played a very important part in their existence, not only performing the rites of the Church for their benefit, but comforting and guiding them, often teaching their children to read, write and count. Nor was the peasant’s life devoid of seasonal pleasures. In addition to the great Church festivals, which were celebrated with all pomp and solemnity, and the homage paid to local saints commemorated in neighbouring monasteries, there were family events such as weddings to enjoy. There were annual markets to attend in the regional capitals and smaller, equally lively markets in the local towns. Unfortunately the ailing, old and needy often had to take advantage of being in a town to borrow from the local money-lender; few could escape recourse to his services at some time or other. Nevertheless, the countryside provided the hale with robust and carefree pleasures. Thus, the wine harvest was accompanied by drunken but very enjoyable feasts. The gathering of the last of the harvest was boisterously celebrated with food and drink, wandering acrobats, jugglers and mimers. Even the end of a long day’s work was a cause for satisfaction. A fifteenth-century book illumination successfully captures the relaxed atmosphere in which men and beasts make ready for food and rest. It shows two labourers unloading a corn cart and another un-harnessing the oxen under the watchful eye of their master, whilst a huntsman takes from his dog a hare which it has just retrieved. Judging from the peaceful, enchanting scenes decorating the mosaic floor of the Great Palace it was realised in the sixth century that country life had something to commend it. In the mosaic a shepherd’s life seems full of idyllic attractions of a Virgilian sort. In the eleventh century, when Romanus Lecapenus’ efforts to abolish the large estates had come to naught, people were flocking back to the country. At the start of the twelfth century life there was being fully appreciated. Kekaumenos, once an eminent official living in Constantinople, was revelling in country life and asserting that the best way of ensuring happiness lay ‘in working the land, growing corn, making wine, raising animals’. Even members of the imperial family and officials such as Theodore Metochites were acquiring estates in many parts of the country and monasteries on Mount Athos were buying vineyards as far away as Serres and paying anything, between 1296 to 1333, from one to 24 nomismata for each. In 1341, when Guy de Lusignan captured John Cantacuzenus’ estates in Thessaly, allowing his men to loot them, in a matter of hours the latter had made away with 500 oxen, 2,500 mares, 200 camels, 300 mules, 5,000 donkeys, 50,000 pigs, 70,000 sheep as well as great quantities of corn which had been stored in barns, and coffers filled with gold and silver.

  Fishing was not only profitable but also delightful. Though seafaring fishermen often had to fish by night by artificial light or, by day, to drag heavy nets, the countryman could sit placidly, rod in hand, over a quiet pool or fresh running stream in apparent ease and safety. Yet many of the fast-flowing streams were as treacherous and dangerous as the open sea, and both inland and seafaring fishermen followed the example of sailors in commending themselves to St George and St Phocas.

  In the country there was always game to snare or a swift hare to be caught by a dog, or by a boy deftly throwing a basket over it. Peasants were adept at netting and snaring and often used wooden decoys. Hunting was enjoyed by all classes. Rich landowners kept large retinues of both free and enslaved huntsmen, kennel boys, trackers and falconers. They used cheetahs as well as hounds when hunting big game, calling them together with ivory hunting horns and killing their quarry with spears, arrows, or the help of eagles, hawks, gerfalcons and peregrines, all of which had bells tied to their legs. Falconers carried their birds on their left hand and wore elbow-length leather gloves as protection. Hares were often pursued by hawks but also hunted on horseback. Other animals hunted in those ways were foxes, stags, does, gazelles and bears. Partridges were raised by dogs and shot with arrows. Cretan hounds were particularly valued on account of their keen scent, but the large Indian breeds were preferred for hunting big game. A professional huntsman wore a short tunic and pointed hat, and carried a bow and arrow as well as a whip, an axe and a net; he also attached a knife to his belt. Peasants were not so well equipped, but many were astonishingly skilled at catching singing birds for which there was always a ready market.

  81 Agricultural workers receiving their pay

  82 Hunting scene from a mosaic in the Great Palace

  9 - SCHOOLS, SCHOLARS AND MUSICIANS

  The Byzantines inherited from the classical world a profound respect for learning and a particular delight in the culture of ancient Greece. Time and again Greece served as an inspiration and had a revivifying effect upon their imagination. In the tenth and eleventh centuries, and to a lesser extent again in the thirteenth, it was responsible for revivals of an ancient imagery in art and of basic principles of reasoning in philosophy. However, from about the middle of the seventh century, Arab scientists and mathematicians stimulated the work of many eminent Byzantine scientists, doctors and inventors.

  Although much that had been created by Byzantine scholarship perished in the fifteenth century, and even though some written works may still lie undetected in some remote monastic library, the harvest sown by the Byzantines made a vital contribution to European culture. Perhaps the greatest service which the Byzantines rendered was to preserve most of the Greek classics which are known to us. But for Byzantine transcriptions many of these would have perished with the destruction of the great library at Alexandria; but for the devastations wrought by the Latins and the Ottomans the number of surviving works would assuredly be much larger than it is. In addition to their achievements as preservers of the past the Byzantines have provided our civilisation with a large number of works which deserve to be recognised as cornerstones of European thought. Most consist of theological works which have greatly influenced the cultures of the various Slavic nations belonging to the Orthodox Church. Almost as important is the rich store of information contained in the chronicles, though it was the genius of Constantine Porphyrogenitus which, perhaps finding inspiration in Procopius’ Life of Justinian and Eusebius of Caesarea’s Life of Constantine I rather than in the works of Greek and Roman historians, finally transformed history into a discipline which, from the eleventh century, often possessed literary merit.

  The destruction of practically every object relating to secular life in Byzantium has unfortunately tended to turn the attention of scho
lars to the religious aspects of Byzantine history and art at the expense of social and everyday matters, with the result that we now have a somewhat one-sided view of daily conditions there. A glance at the educational facilities available in Byzantium and at the standard achieved in advanced studies helps to bring the picture into truer perspective by focusing attention on the layman as well as on the priest.

  Although religion was the mainspring and controller of life in Byzantium, even in the tenth century, when monasticism was at its height and half the population is believed to have withdrawn from worldly affairs, secular learning survived. Despite the Church’s disapproval it maintained its hold. Though it had first been intended to keep the two disciplines apart secular studies became deeply rooted in the Christian doctrine. St Basil had been in favour of admitting all children to the Church schools, whether or not they were intended for a religious life, but the Church Council of 451 had forbidden this. However, it seems unlikely that the prohibition was ever rigorously enforced either in country districts or in wealthy families, for throughout Byzantium’s history priests and monks were often engaged to tutor children, and especially to teach them the Scriptures. They were given full permission to beat idle and unwilling pupils.

  The emperors founded quite a number of schools for orphans. These used the same syllabus as the one followed in the country’s primary schools, but children from upper- and middle-class families were often educated by private tutors who preferred well-tried Graeco-Roman methods. By the sixth century education was provided for a considerable proportion of children of freemen and the number increased steadily thereafter, though it continued to vary between regions. In the eleventh century, under Alexius Comnenus, free schools were open to all children regardless of nationality or class. A child generally received its first lessons in the women’s quarter of its home; in educated families these were usually given by its mother. This was the case with Michael Psellus, whose mother taught him to speak fluently and clearly as well as to write a good hand; both were considered important assets. Every child was expected to know the Bible by heart. Servants in the Psellus household were forbidden to tell the children horror tales for fear of frightening them. Psellus was sent to school at the age of five, but he was an unusually intelligent child and by the age of 14, when the average pupil was expected to be well-versed only in Aesop’s Fables, he was already able to recite the Iliad by heart.

  As in present-day Greece, three forms of Greek were in simultaneous use from about the eighth century: the vernacular Romaic was used by the uneducated, Attic Greek was used by educated people when writing, and a more elaborate version for conversation. The last was closer to classical Greek than to Romaic and was used for orations, thus widening the gap between the written and spoken forms. On entering school children were first instructed in grammar—a term which included reading and writing. This was followed by more advanced grammar, syntax and introduction to the classics; each pupil was expected to learn 50 lines of Homer by heart every day and to have read the commentaries on them. Sons of the very rich were taught by tutors, who sometimes stayed on to prepare their pupils for entry to the university. However, at the age of 14 most boys joined their contemporaries in the school classroom. There their time was spent in studying rhetoric: this included pronunciation and enunciation as well as the study of great prose writers such as Demosthenes. In their last year at school boys were taught philosophy, the sciences and the ‘four arts’—arithmetic, geometry, music and astronomy.

  Each bishopric had its own religious school; and in addition many monasteries, following the precepts of St Basil, not only established their own libraries and scriptoria, but also included some scholar monks who studied the texts preserved in the monastic libraries and taught other monks. Younger monks were directed to teach novices and children destined to become monks. The closing of all public libraries in 476 struck a blow at secular learning for it obliged scholars to rely on the monastic libraries which, naturally enough, contained mostly theological books.

  Scriptoria, that is to say rooms where scribes worked at copying every type of book available, from grammars and dictionaries to novels and religious works, were attached to all libraries, whether public or private, secular or religious. As early as the fourth century Emperor Valens regularly employed four Greek and three Latin scribes in his library at Constantinople. Calligraphy was considered an art at which all educated people should excel. Many eminent people including Emperor Theodore II Lascaris (1254-8) delighted in transcribing books. In the scriptoria the scribes devoted as much care to the beauty of their script as to the accuracy of the text. It was in these centres that the script known as the minuscule was evolved. Many impoverished scholars increased their earnings by acting as scribes. Books were far from cheap; in the eleventh century the cost of a copy of Euclid was the equivalent of about £12. As a general rule it is unlikely that the illuminations in the form of figural scenes which adorn so many Byzantine books were produced by scribes; though the marginal devices, chapter heads and tail-pieces may well have been executed by highly skilled calligraphers, the full-page illustrations were generally the work of illuminators who filled in the spaces left blank for the purpose by the scribes.

  The first books produced in Byzantium were written on papyrus and were shaped as scrolls. This form was retained for official documents and imperial diplomas even after the fall of Egypt to the Arabs; it passed into general use in medieval Europe and survives to our own time in the case of certain ceremonial documents. The pieces of papyrus which were used for documents carried an imperial stamp, but those intended for literary purposes did not need one and so escaped the tax levied on the former. From the fourth century parchment began to be preferred to papyrus and Constantine I is said to have ordered 50 copies of the Gospels written on parchment for the 50 churches he is supposed to have founded. The change-over was hastened when papyrus became hard to obtain after the Muslim conquest of Egypt. The term ‘parchment’ is said to derive from Pergamon in Asia Minor and it may be that it was first produced there. The bulk of it was made from calf hide and as a result it became known in the West as vellum—the same word as veal. But much of it was actually produced from the skin of oxen, antelope, gazelle and sheep. The famous Codex Sinaiticus in the British Museum is one of the earliest examples that we know of a book written on parchment. Cotton and linen paper was imported from China in the eleventh century, but it remained scarce until the thirteenth, when the Byzantines were able to produce all they needed for themselves.

  Scrolls were of two types; the one was read from top to bottom, the other was more like a roll. It was intended for literary purposes and was horizontal in shape, the text being written in sections, which began at the left and ended at the right. These ceased to be exclusively used with the invention of the biblion (originally the Greek name for the Bible). The latter was made up of sheets folded very like a modern book, the bound volume formed in this way being called a codex. When the number of folded sheets formed either three or six double pages they were known as a tetradia. To begin with no more than 45 tetradia could be bound together, but later the number was increased. Books made up in this manner varied greatly in size. Their names were related to their subject matter. Books in which the lives of saints were arranged in the form of a calendar were known as Menologia; the four Gospels were called Tetra Evangelia; when the Gospels were arranged in the form of daily lessons the volume was called an Evangelistrion, whilst the first eight books of the New Testament formed an Octateuch. In addition there were psalters, volumes of homilies, and so on. The majority were bound in wooden boards, generally oak. When a volume was intended for ceremonial use in a church or designed for a dignitary, the outside cover was often made of some precious material such as ivory, silver or gold. It was always elaborately worked, being carved, chased or embossed, and sometimes enhanced by the addition of precious jewels, cloisonné enamels, paste inlays, niello work or gems. When made for an emperor the pages were dye
d purple and the text often written in letters of gold; the binding was also generally stained purple, though the top cover might well be of gold and adorned with cloisonné enamels. Gospels of this type are called Purple Codices.

  83 Gospel cover showing Christ and the Apostles, twelfth century

  Byzantine scholarship was at its peak roughly between 842 and the start of the twelfth century. During that period the learned and energetic prelate Photius was moulding the minds of a new generation of intellectuals; the saintly brothers Cyril and Methodius were devising the Cyrillic alphabet for the use of the converted Slays; Bardas Caesar, a keen admirer of Photius, was founding the Magnaura University; Leo VI, himself a pupil of Photius, was spending his leisure composing theological works—some of which remain in use in the Orthodox world of today; Constantine VII Porphyrogenitus was writing works of permanent value; whilst Michael VII, a pupil and friend of Psellus, had been so immersed in learning and the arts that, try as he could, he was unable to reorganise the army, shattered by the nation’s defeat at Manzikert, thereby further imperilling his kingdom. Only a few years later Anna Comnena, the daughter of Alexius Comnenus, was exiled to a convent by her brother. She occupied her time there writing a life of her father which is surely one of the world’s great biographies.

  The boyhood experiences of St Cyril were not unusual for the ninth century. The son of a worthy if far from prosperous notable living in Salonica, the boy was born in about the year 822 and was named Constantine. His father died when he was about 14 years old. When this became known in Constantinople the imperial chancellor, who had heard Constantine well spoken of, wrote to the boy’s mother offering her son a vacancy in the imperial school where the future Michael III (842-67) was a pupil. The school was the best of its day. The offer was accepted and in due course Constantine set off alone for Constantinople. He was 16 when he entered the school; within three months he had qualified as a grammarian and was able to pass to more advanced work, studying geometry with the great mathematician Leo and dialectics and philosophy with the equally famous and distinguished Photius, twice patriarch of Constantinople. In addition he studied rhetoric, astronomy, arithmetic, music and, in the words of a contemporary, ‘other Hellenistic arts’. It is curious to find no mention made of theology. Constantine was 22 years old when, having completed his education, he left the school to become patriarchal librarian at Haghia Sophia. It is interesting to compare him with Psellus who, some two centuries later, pursued his education till he was 25, devoting his last few years of study to becoming a good public speaker and to mastering deductive and inductive philosophy, the natural sciences and mathematics. In addition to his duties as librarian Constantine was also expected to act as secretary or personal assistant to his former teacher, Patriarch Photius. At this period in his life he took Holy Orders, entering the church under the name of Cyril. On completing a thesis he was appointed deacon and offered the post of professor of philosophy in his old school. This was a high honour, for in addition to teaching in the school, its professors were expected to act as cultural advisers to the emperor. Nevertheless, Cyril refused the offer and it was not until about the year 850 that he finally accepted a professorial chair. Some ten years later he gave up teaching in order to undertake missionary work with his brother Methodius, first in the kingdom of the Volga Khazars and later among the Slays of central Europe, for whom he devised the alphabet which still bears his name.