Note: For some quotations in this paper, I was unable to identify the page number because the top of the page was cut off in scanning.
Hinterberger notes that Byzantinists have paid little attention to emotions, despite their presence throughout Byzantine texts – especially in historiography. Hinterberger argues that if we look carefully we will find in Byzantine sources emotions that no longer exist or are far less important in modern society – and vice versa. He underlines this point by noting that all emotions differ depending on their social and historical context. Our objective must therefore not be to capture timeless truths but rather to identify the historical dimension and social function of emotions.
Hinterberger surveys next the kinds of texts that can “provide some access to the world of Byzantine emotions” (125). He notes that art can be a valuable source, but is prone to misinterpretation and presentism; for example, tears in Byzantium could indicate both sadness and anger. Partly because of this potential for misunderstanding, Hinterberger says that he will only use textual evidence in this article. These texts are diverse, but often include some description of the self – for example, autobiographies, diaries, and letters. Public statements that regulate emotional expression are also important, but Hinterberger (following Stearns’ emotionology) believes that they can only indicate emotional conventions. Religious writing is extremely important and can fall in both categories: Symeon the New Theologian describes his emotional relationship with God quite vividly, while sermons and catechisms are generally normative documents. Hinterberger asserts that the most descriptive statements about emotions are in historiography and hagiography. That being said, Hinterberger also says that “the theoretical engagement with emotions takes place primarily in context of theology” (126). This is particularly evident in the writings of Church fathers, including the fourth-century treatise by Ephrem entitled On Virtues and Vices.[1]
Hinterberger next turns to Byzantine terminology. The closest equivalent to “emotion,” he says, is pathos (πάθος). This word has several interesting characteristics. First, it is derived from the verb paschein (πάσχειν), which implies that a pathos is something that happens to someone. This includes the sense of “that which befalls the soul,” or what we would call a passion. Hinterberger notes that the word’s connotations are mostly negative and encompass both emotions and impulses like hunger, lust, and rudeness. The passions were seen as “typically human,” so God was described as apathes. Notably, the angels were understood as susceptible to passions – for example, Lucifer’s downfall was due to pride and envy – while Christ was seen as assuming some of the passions in his incarnation. Some authors mentioned positive and negative manifestations of the passions. For example, Abbas Isaias and Theodoret of Cyrrhus noted that zelos (eagerness) could be “directed toward the acquisition of virtues” (127) but could also become phthonos (envy) if misdirected. Other authors disagreed, pointing to the fact that God is passionless and that humans were made in God’s image to conclude that pathe could not have been part of human nature. This theological view was complemented by a philosophical conception of emotions rooted in Platonism and Stoicism. In this view, the soul has three components: the reasonable, the spiritual, and the covetous (logikon, thumikon, and epithumetikon). Each of these parts was located in a different part of the body and tasked with a distinct function. They were also each identified with different emotions. The theology of pathe developed into an understanding that “apatheia, passionlessness, was the condition for the view of God” (128). Indeed, the passions were seen as tools of the Satan and identified with demons (Evagrios used the words “thought,” “demon,” and “passion” interchangeably). This negative conception of passions filtered into hagiography. Monks were often described in terms of their fight against passions. Saints often struggled against passions or against the actions of people driven by passions. Indeed, Hinterberger argues that “the monastic-ascetic ideal shaped the Byzantine world … and is paralleled by a generally negative image of emotions” (129). There were exceptions – Alexios Komnenos was described as torn between passion for his mother and for combat – but by and large Hinterberger describes hagiography and theology as having very negative attitudes towards pathe.
Finally, Hinterberger examines a number of emotions in detail. First is penthos (mourning), which was epitomized by the “special mourning cult” developed in Byzantine monasticism. The monks “shed tears over their sins and those of mankind” (130) which were said to cleanse the soul. Tears were also used to demonstrate contrition – for example, by Leo VI on the occasion of his fourth marriage.
Envy was also associated with sorrow, though sorrow for the well-being of others. Many examples of envy are drawn from those who the emperor favored above their peers. Envy was associated with the devil because of the fall of man, and so envious humans were considered to be the devil’s tools. Hinterberger traces the Byzantine emphasis on envy to the “pre-Christian perceptions of a superhuman evil power” (130) but also to the strict hierarchy of the army and the civil service. This had the effect of downplaying jealousy, especially that between spouses or siblings.
The last emotion Hinterberger examines is anger (thumos) or wrath (orge). Although Byzantine theology recognized God as passionless (apathes), it did not ignore the Old Testament’s prominent discussion of the wrath of God (theomenia).[2] In fact, this term was later used to refer to any natural disaster. The wrath of emperors was also considered devastating. Anger was often caused by insult and rudeness. This was an easy violation to make in the context of the imperial court’s strict hierarchy.
To conclude, Hinterberger sketches some general characteristics of Byzantine emotions. He argues that they were intertwined with Byzantine Christianity and values. These aspects, he says, are particularly evident in cases where emotions differ significantly from today. Hinterberger’s analysis of emotions in Byzantium is comprehensive and combines perceptive treatment of a variety of sources. Although his observations are astute, his conclusions are rather lackluster. As it stands, this article mostly consists of summaries and descriptions of various sources. The next step is to consider questions Hinterberger doesn’t ask: Whose emotions are these texts describing? How can non-literary sources complicate this picture? What influences can we trace from the cultures Byzantium interacted with and traced its heritage to? There are many directions that this scholarship can and should lead to.
[1] Ephraem Syrus, “Sermo de Virtutibus et Vitiis,” in Sancti Patris Nostri Ephraem Opera Omnia, ed. and trans. Konstantinos G. Phrantzoles, vol. 1, 6 vols. (Thessalonica: To Perivoli tis Panagias, 1988), 37–73, http://stephanus.tlg.uci.edu/Iris/Cite?4138:001:0. See also http://www.toperivoli.gr/pages/patr.htm.
[2] Note that θεομηνία has as its second word not θυμός or οργή but rather the Homeric μήνις.