Gibbon's The Decline And Fall Of The Roman Empire
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Chapter LIII: Fate Of The Eastern Empire. -- Part III.
The most lofty titles, and the most humble postures, which devotion has
applied to the Supreme Being, have been prostituted by flattery and fear
to creatures of the same nature with ourselves. The mode of adoration,
of falling prostrate on the ground, and kissing the feet of the emperor,
was borrowed by Diocletian from Persian servitude; but it was continued
and aggravated till the last age of the Greek monarchy. Excepting only
on Sundays, when it was waived, from a motive of religious pride, this
humiliating reverence was exacted from all who entered the royal
presence, from the princes invested with the diadem and purple, and from
the ambassadors who represented their independent sovereigns, the
caliphs of Asia, Egypt, or Spain, the kings of France and Italy, and the
Latin emperors of ancient Rome. In his transactions of business,
Liutprand, bishop of Cremona, asserted the free spirit of a Frank and
the dignity of his master Otho. Yet his sincerity cannot disguise the
abasement of his first audience. When he approached the throne, the
birds of the golden tree began to warble their notes, which were
accompanied by the roarings of the two lions of gold. With his two
companions Liutprand was compelled to bow and to fall prostrate; and
thrice to touch the ground with his forehead. He arose, but in the short
interval, the throne had been hoisted from the floor to the ceiling, the
Imperial figure appeared in new and more gorgeous apparel, and the
interview was concluded in haughty and majestic silence. In this honest
and curious narrative, the Bishop of Cremona represents the ceremonies
of the Byzantine court, which are still practised in the Sublime Porte,
and which were preserved in the last age by the dukes of Muscovy or
Russia. After a long journey by sea and land, from Venice to
Constantinople, the ambassador halted at the golden gate, till he was
conducted by the formal officers to the hospitable palace prepared for
his reception; but this palace was a prison, and his jealous keepers
prohibited all social intercourse either with strangers or natives. At
his first audience, he offered the gifts of his master, slaves, and
golden vases, and costly armor. The ostentatious payment of the officers
and troops displayed before his eyes the riches of the empire: he was
entertained at a royal banquet, in which the ambassadors of the nations
were marshalled by the esteem or contempt of the Greeks: from his own
table, the emperor, as the most signal favor, sent the plates which he
had tasted; and his favorites were dismissed with a robe of honor. In
the morning and evening of each day, his civil and military servants
attended their duty in the palace; their labors were repaid by the
sight, perhaps by the smile, of their lord; his commands were signified
by a nod or a sign: but all earthly greatness stood silent and
submissive in his presence. In his regular or extraordinary processions
through the capital, he unveiled his person to the public view: the
rites of policy were connected with those of religion, and his visits to
the principal churches were regulated by the festivals of the Greek
calendar. On the eve of these processions, the gracious or devout
intention of the monarch was proclaimed by the heralds. The streets were
cleared and purified; the pavement was strewed with flowers; the most
precious furniture, the gold and silver plate, and silken hangings, were
displayed from the windows and balconies, and a severe discipline
restrained and silenced the tumult of the populace. The march was opened
by the military officers at the head of their troops: they were followed
in long order by the magistrates and ministers of the civil government:
the person of the emperor was guarded by his eunuchs and domestics, and
at the church door he was solemnly received by the patriarch and his
clergy. The task of applause was not abandoned to the rude and
spontaneous voices of the crowd. The most convenient stations were
occupied by the bands of the blue and green factions of the circus; and
their furious conflicts, which had shaken the capital, were insensibly
sunk to an emulation of servitude. From either side they echoed in
responsive melody the praises of the emperor; their poets and musicians
directed the choir, and long life and victory were the burden of every
song. The same acclamations were performed at the audience, the banquet,
and the church; and as an evidence of boundless sway, they were repeated
in the Latin, Gothic, Persian, French, and even English language, by the
mercenaries who sustained the real or fictitious character of those
nations. By the pen of Constantine Porphyrogenitus, this science of form
and flattery has been reduced into a pompous and trifling volume, which
the vanity of succeeding times might enrich with an ample supplement.
Yet the calmer reflection of a prince would surely suggest that the same
acclamations were applied to every character and every reign: and if he
had risen from a private rank, he might remember, that his own voice had
been the loudest and most eager in applause, at the very moment when he
envied the fortune, or conspired against the life, of his predecessor.
The princes of the North, of the nations, says Constantine, without
faith or fame, were ambitious of mingling their blood with the blood of
the Cæsars, by their marriage with a royal virgin, or by the nuptials of
their daughters with a Roman prince. The aged monarch, in his
instructions to his son, reveals the secret maxims of policy and pride;
and suggests the most decent reasons for refusing these insolent and
unreasonable demands. Every animal, says the discreet emperor, is
prompted by the distinction of language, religion, and manners. A just
regard to the purity of descent preserves the harmony of public and
private life; but the mixture of foreign blood is the fruitful source of
disorder and discord. Such had ever been the opinion and practice of the
sage Romans: their jurisprudence proscribed the marriage of a citizen
and a stranger: in the days of freedom and virtue, a senator would have
scorned to match his daughter with a king: the glory of Mark Antony was
sullied by an Egyptian wife: and the emperor Titus was compelled, by
popular censure, to dismiss with reluctance the reluctant Berenice. This
perpetual interdict was ratified by the fabulous sanction of the great
Constantine. The ambassadors of the nations, more especially of the
unbelieving nations, were solemnly admonished, that such strange
alliances had been condemned by the founder of the church and city. The
irrevocable law was inscribed on the altar of St. Sophia; and the
impious prince who should stain the majesty of the purple was excluded
from the civil and ecclesiastical communion of the Romans. If the
ambassadors were instructed by any false brethren in the Byzantine
history, they might produce three memorable examples of the violation of
this imaginary law: the marriage of Leo, or rather of his father
Constantine the Fourth, with the daughter of the king of the Chozars,
the nuptials of the granddaughter of Romanus with a Bulgarian prince,
and the union of Bertha of France or Italy with young Romanus, the son
of Constantine Porphyrogenitus himself. To these objections three
answers were prepared, which solved the difficulty and established the
law. I. The deed and the guilt of Constantine Copronymus were
acknowledged. The Isaurian heretic, who sullied the baptismal font, and
declared war against the holy images, had indeed embraced a Barbarian
wife. By this impious alliance he accomplished the measure of his
crimes, and was devoted to the just censure of the church and of
posterity. II. Romanus could not be alleged as a legitimate emperor; he
was a plebeian usurper, ignorant of the laws, and regardless of the
honor, of the monarchy. His son Christopher, the father of the bride,
was the third in rank in the college of princes, at once the subject and
the accomplice of a rebellious parent. The Bulgarians were sincere and
devout Christians; and the safety of the empire, with the redemption of
many thousand captives, depended on this preposterous alliance. Yet no
consideration could dispense from the law of Constantine: the clergy,
the senate, and the people, disapproved the conduct of Romanus; and he
was reproached, both in his life and death, as the author of the public
disgrace. III. For the marriage of his own son with the daughter of
Hugo, king of Italy, a more honorable defence is contrived by the wise
Porphyrogenitus. Constantine, the great and holy, esteemed the fidelity
and valor of the Franks; and his prophetic spirit beheld the vision of
their future greatness. They alone were excepted from the general
prohibition: Hugo, king of France, was the lineal descendant of
Charlemagne; and his daughter Bertha inherited the prerogatives of her
family and nation. The voice of truth and malice insensibly betrayed the
fraud or error of the Imperial court. The patrimonial estate of Hugo was
reduced from the monarchy of France to the simple county of Arles;
though it was not denied, that, in the confusion of the times, he had
usurped the sovereignty of Provence, and invaded the kingdom of Italy.
His father was a private noble; and if Bertha derived her female descent
from the Carlovingian line, every step was polluted with illegitimacy or
vice. The grandmother of Hugo was the famous Valdrada, the concubine,
rather than the wife, of the second Lothair; whose adultery, divorce,
and second nuptials, had provoked against him the thunders of the
Vatican. His mother, as she was styled, the great Bertha, was
successively the wife of the count of Arles and of the marquis of
Tuscany: France and Italy were scandalized by her gallantries; and, till
the age of threescore, her lovers, of every degree, were the zealous
servants of her ambition. The example of maternal incontinence was
copied by the king of Italy; and the three favorite concubines of Hugo
were decorated with the classic names of Venus, Juno, and Semele. The
daughter of Venus was granted to the solicitations of the Byzantine
court: her name of Bertha was changed to that of Eudoxia; and she was
wedded, or rather betrothed, to young Romanus, the future heir of the
empire of the East. The consummation of this foreign alliance was
suspended by the tender age of the two parties; and, at the end of five
years, the union was dissolved by the death of the virgin spouse. The
second wife of the emperor Romanus was a maiden of plebeian, but of
Roman, birth; and their two daughters, Theophano and Anne, were given in
marriage to the princes of the earth. The eldest was bestowed, as the
pledge of peace, on the eldest son of the great Otho, who had solicited
this alliance with arms and embassies. It might legally be questioned
how far a Saxon was entitled to the privilege of the French nation; but
every scruple was silenced by the fame and piety of a hero who had
restored the empire of the West. After the death of her father-in-law
and husband, Theophano governed Rome, Italy, and Germany, during the
minority of her son, the third Otho; and the Latins have praised the
virtues of an empress, who sacrificed to a superior duty the remembrance
of her country. In the nuptials of her sister Anne, every prejudice was
lost, and every consideration of dignity was superseded, by the stronger
argument of necessity and fear. A Pagan of the North, Wolodomir, great
prince of Russia, aspired to a daughter of the Roman purple; and his
claim was enforced by the threats of war, the promise of conversion, and
the offer of a powerful succor against a domestic rebel. A victim of her
religion and country, the Grecian princess was torn from the palace of
her fathers, and condemned to a savage reign, and a hopeless exile on
the banks of the Borysthenes, or in the neighborhood of the Polar
circle. Yet the marriage of Anne was fortunate and fruitful: the
daughter of her grandson Joroslaus was recommended by her Imperial
descent; and the king of France, Henry I., sought a wife on the last
borders of Europe and Christendom.
In the Byzantine palace, the emperor was the first slave of the
ceremonies which he imposed, of the rigid forms which regulated each
word and gesture, besieged him in the palace, and violated the leisure
of his rural solitude. But the lives and fortunes of millions hung on
his arbitrary will; and the firmest minds, superior to the allurements
of pomp and luxury, may be seduced by the more active pleasure of
commanding their equals. The legislative and executive powers were
centred in the person of the monarch, and the last remains of the
authority of the senate were finally eradicated by Leo the philosopher.
A lethargy of servitude had benumbed the minds of the Greeks: in the
wildest tumults of rebellion they never aspired to the idea of a free
constitution; and the private character of the prince was the only
source and measure of their public happiness. Superstition rivetted
their chains; in the church of St. Sophia he was solemnly crowned by the
patriarch; at the foot of the altar, they pledged their passive and
unconditional obedience to his government and family. On his side he
engaged to abstain as much as possible from the capital punishments of
death and mutilation; his orthodox creed was subscribed with his own
hand, and he promised to obey the decrees of the seven synods, and the
canons of the holy church. But the assurance of mercy was loose and
indefinite: he swore, not to his people, but to an invisible judge; and
except in the inexpiable guilt of heresy, the ministers of heaven were
always prepared to preach the indefeasible right, and to absolve the
venial transgressions, of their sovereign. The Greek ecclesiastics were
themselves the subjects of the civil magistrate: at the nod of a tyrant,
the bishops were created, or transferred, or deposed, or punished with
an ignominious death: whatever might be their wealth or influence, they
could never succeed like the Latin clergy in the establishment of an
independent republic; and the patriarch of Constantinople condemned,
what he secretly envied, the temporal greatness of his Roman brother.
Yet the exercise of boundless despotism is happily checked by the laws
of nature and necessity. In proportion to his wisdom and virtue, the
master of an empire is confined to the path of his sacred and laborious
duty. In proportion to his vice and folly, he drops the sceptre too
weighty for his hands; and the motions of the royal image are ruled by
the imperceptible thread of some minister or favorite, who undertakes
for his private interest to exercise the task of the public oppression.
In some fatal moment, the most absolute monarch may dread the reason or
the caprice of a nation of slaves; and experience has proved, that
whatever is gained in the extent, is lost in the safety and solidity, of
regal power.
Whatever titles a despot may assume, whatever claims he may assert, it
is on the sword that he must ultimately depend to guard him against his
foreign and domestic enemies. From the age of Charlemagne to that of the
Crusades, the world (for I overlook the remote monarchy of China) was
occupied and disputed by the three great empires or nations of the
Greeks, the Saracens, and the Franks. Their military strength may be
ascertained by a comparison of their courage, their arts and riches, and
their obedience to a supreme head, who might call into action all the
energies of the state. The Greeks, far inferior to their rivals in the
first, were superior to the Franks, and at least equal to the Saracens,
in the second and third of these warlike qualifications.
The wealth of the Greeks enabled them to purchase the service of the
poorer nations, and to maintain a naval power for the protection of
their coasts and the annoyance of their enemies. A commerce of mutual
benefit exchanged the gold of Constantinople for the blood of
Sclavonians and Turks, the Bulgarians and Russians: their valor
contributed to the victories of Nicephorus and Zimisces; and if a
hostile people pressed too closely on the frontier, they were recalled
to the defence of their country, and the desire of peace, by the
well-managed attack of a more distant tribe. The command of the
Mediterranean, from the mouth of the Tanais to the columns of Hercules,
was always claimed, and often possessed, by the successors of
Constantine. Their capital was filled with naval stores and dexterous
artificers: the situation of Greece and Asia, the long coasts, deep
gulfs, and numerous islands, accustomed their subjects to the exercise
of navigation; and the trade of Venice and Amalfi supplied a nursery of
seamen to the Imperial fleet. Since the time of the Peloponnesian and
Punic wars, the sphere of action had not been enlarged; and the science
of naval architecture appears to have declined. The art of constructing
those stupendous machines which displayed three, or six, or ten, ranges
of oars, rising above, or falling behind, each other, was unknown to the
ship-builders of Constantinople, as well as to the mechanicians of
modern days. The Dromones, or light galleys of the Byzantine empire,
were content with two tier of oars; each tier was composed of
five-and-twenty benches; and two rowers were seated on each bench, who
plied their oars on either side of the vessel. To these we must add the
captain or centurion, who, in time of action, stood erect with his
armor-bearer on the poop, two steersmen at the helm, and two officers at
the prow, the one to manage the anchor, the other to point and play
against the enemy the tube of liquid fire. The whole crew, as in the
infancy of the art, performed the double service of mariners and
soldiers; they were provided with defensive and offensive arms, with
bows and arrows, which they used from the upper deck, with long pikes,
which they pushed through the portholes of the lower tier. Sometimes,
indeed, the ships of war were of a larger and more solid construction;
and the labors of combat and navigation were more regularly divided
between seventy soldiers and two hundred and thirty mariners. But for
the most part they were of the light and manageable size; and as the
Cape of Malea in Peloponnesus was still clothed with its ancient
terrors, an Imperial fleet was transported five miles over land across
the Isthmus of Corinth. The principles of maritime tactics had not
undergone any change since the time of Thucydides: a squadron of galleys
still advanced in a crescent, charged to the front, and strove to impel
their sharp beaks against the feeble sides of their antagonists. A
machine for casting stones and darts was built of strong timbers, in the
midst of the deck; and the operation of boarding was effected by a crane
that hoisted baskets of armed men. The language of signals, so clear and
copious in the naval grammar of the moderns, was imperfectly expressed
by the various positions and colors of a commanding flag. In the
darkness of the night, the same orders to chase, to attack, to halt, to
retreat, to break, to form, were conveyed by the lights of the leading
galley. By land, the fire-signals were repeated from one mountain to
another; a chain of eight stations commanded a space of five hundred
miles; and Constantinople in a few hours was apprised of the hostile
motions of the Saracens of Tarsus. Some estimate may be formed of the
power of the Greek emperors, by the curious and minute detail of the
armament which was prepared for the reduction of Crete. A fleet of one
hundred and twelve galleys, and seventy-five vessels of the Pamphylian
style, was equipped in the capital, the islands of the Ægean Sea, and
the seaports of Asia, Macedonia, and Greece. It carried thirty-four
thousand mariners, seven thousand three hundred and forty soldiers,
seven hundred Russians, and five thousand and eighty-seven Mardaites,
whose fathers had been transplanted from the mountains of Libanus. Their
pay, most probably of a month, was computed at thirty-four centenaries
of gold, about one hundred and thirty-six thousand pounds sterling. Our
fancy is bewildered by the endless recapitulation of arms and engines,
of clothes and linen, of bread for the men and forage for the horses,
and of stores and utensils of every description, inadequate to the
conquest of a petty island, but amply sufficient for the establishment
of a flourishing colony.
The invention of the Greek fire did not, like that of gun powder,
produce a total revolution in the art of war. To these liquid
combustibles the city and empire of Constantine owed their deliverance;
and they were employed in sieges and sea-fights with terrible effect.
But they were either less improved, or less susceptible of improvement:
the engines of antiquity, the catapultæ, balistæ, and battering-rams,
were still of most frequent and powerful use in the attack and defence
of fortifications; nor was the decision of battles reduced to the quick
and heavy fire of a line of infantry, whom it were fruitless to protect
with armor against a similar fire of their enemies. Steel and iron were
still the common instruments of destruction and safety; and the helmets,
cuirasses, and shields, of the tenth century did not, either in form or
substance, essentially differ from those which had covered the
companions of Alexander or Achilles. But instead of accustoming the
modern Greeks, like the legionaries of old, to the constant and easy use
of this salutary weight, their armor was laid aside in light chariots,
which followed the march, till, on the approach of an enemy, they
resumed with haste and reluctance the unusual encumbrance. Their
offensive weapons consisted of swords, battle-axes, and spears; but the
Macedonian pike was shortened a fourth of its length, and reduced to the
more convenient measure of twelve cubits or feet. The sharpness of the
Scythian and Arabian arrows had been severely felt; and the emperors
lament the decay of archery as a cause of the public misfortunes, and
recommend, as an advice and a command, that the military youth, till the
age of forty, should assiduously practise the exercise of the bow. The
bands, or regiments, were usually three hundred strong; and, as a medium
between the extremes of four and sixteen, the foot soldiers of Leo and
Constantine were formed eight deep; but the cavalry charged in four
ranks, from the reasonable consideration, that the weight of the front
could not be increased by any pressure of the hindmost horses. If the
ranks of the infantry or cavalry were sometimes doubled, this cautious
array betrayed a secret distrust of the courage of the troops, whose
numbers might swell the appearance of the line, but of whom only a
chosen band would dare to encounter the spears and swords of the
Barbarians. The order of battle must have varied according to the
ground, the object, and the adversary; but their ordinary disposition,
in two lines and a reserve, presented a succession of hopes and
resources most agreeable to the temper as well as the judgment of the
Greeks. In case of a repulse, the first line fell back into the
intervals of the second; and the reserve, breaking into two divisions,
wheeled round the flanks to improve the victory or cover the retreat.
Whatever authority could enact was accomplished, at least in theory, by
the camps and marches, the exercises and evolutions, the edicts and
books, of the Byzantine monarch. Whatever art could produce from the
forge, the loom, or the laboratory, was abundantly supplied by the
riches of the prince, and the industry of his numerous workmen. But
neither authority nor art could frame the most important machine, the
soldier himself; and if the ceremonies of Constantine always suppose the
safe and triumphal return of the emperor, his tactics seldom soar above
the means of escaping a defeat, and procrastinating the war.
Notwithstanding some transient success, the Greeks were sunk in their
own esteem and that of their neighbors. A cold hand and a loquacious
tongue was the vulgar description of the nation: the author of the
tactics was besieged in his capital; and the last of the Barbarians, who
trembled at the name of the Saracens, or Franks, could proudly exhibit
the medals of gold and silver which they had extorted from the feeble
sovereign of Constantinople. What spirit their government and character
denied, might have been inspired in some degree by the influence of
religion; but the religion of the Greeks could only teach them to suffer
and to yield. The emperor Nicephorus, who restored for a moment the
discipline and glory of the Roman name, was desirous of bestowing the
honors of martyrdom on the Christians who lost their lives in a holy war
against the infidels. But this political law was defeated by the
opposition of the patriarch, the bishops, and the principal senators;
and they strenuously urged the canons of St. Basil, that all who were
polluted by the bloody trade of a soldier should be separated, during
three years, from the communion of the faithful.
These scruples of the Greeks have been compared with the tears of the
primitive Moslems when they were held back from battle; and this
contrast of base superstition and high-spirited enthusiasm, unfolds to a
philosophic eye the history of the rival nations. The subjects of the
last caliphs had undoubtedly degenerated from the zeal and faith of the
companions of the prophet. Yet their martial creed still represented the
Deity as the author of war: the vital though latent spark of fanaticism
still glowed in the heart of their religion, and among the Saracens, who
dwelt on the Christian borders, it was frequently rekindled to a lively
and active flame. Their regular force was formed of the valiant slaves
who had been educated to guard the person and accompany the standard of
their lord: but the Mussulman people of Syria and Cilicia, of Africa and
Spain, was awakened by the trumpet which proclaimed a holy war against
the infidels. The rich were ambitious of death or victory in the cause
of God; the poor were allured by the hopes of plunder; and the old, the
infirm, and the women, assumed their share of meritorious service by
sending their substitutes, with arms and horses, into the field. These
offensive and defensive arms were similar in strength and temper to
those of the Romans, whom they far excelled in the management of the
horse and the bow: the massy silver of their belts, their bridles, and
their swords, displayed the magnificence of a prosperous nation; and
except some black archers of the South, the Arabs disdained the naked
bravery of their ancestors. Instead of wagons, they were attended by a
long train of camels, mules, and asses: the multitude of these animals,
whom they bedecked with flags and streamers, appeared to swell the pomp
and magnitude of their host; and the horses of the enemy were often
disordered by the uncouth figure and odious smell of the camels of the
East. Invincible by their patience of thirst and heat, their spirits
were frozen by a winter's cold, and the consciousness of their
propensity to sleep exacted the most rigorous precautions against the
surprises of the night. Their order of battle was a long square of two
deep and solid lines; the first of archers, the second of cavalry. In
their engagements by sea and land, they sustained with patient firmness
the fury of the attack, and seldom advanced to the charge till they
could discern and oppress the lassitude of their foes. But if they were
repulsed and broken, they knew not how to rally or renew the combat; and
their dismay was heightened by the superstitious prejudice, that God had
declared himself on the side of their enemies. The decline and fall of
the caliphs countenanced this fearful opinion; nor were there wanting,
among the Mahometans and Christians, some obscure prophecies which
prognosticated their alternate defeats. The unity of the Arabian empire
was dissolved, but the independent fragments were equal to populous and
powerful kingdoms; and in their naval and military armaments, an emir of
Aleppo or Tunis might command no despicable fund of skill, and industry,
and treasure. In their transactions of peace and war with the Saracens,
the princes of Constantinople too often felt that these Barbarians had
nothing barbarous in their discipline; and that if they were destitute
of original genius, they had been endowed with a quick spirit of
curiosity and imitation. The model was indeed more perfect than the
copy; their ships, and engines, and fortifications, were of a less
skilful construction; and they confess, without shame, that the same God
who has given a tongue to the Arabians, had more nicely fashioned the
hands of the Chinese, and the heads of the Greeks.
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