The Aristocracy and the Common People
Society in the Second Bulgarian Empire was marked by a deep divide between the boyar elite and the large dependent population. Charters, saints’ lives, divinatory and apocryphal writings, and archaeological finds reveal the power of landowners, the burden of peasant obligations, and poor people’s hopes for a just world, while the political voice of the commons remained almost entirely informal.
The boyars did not form a uniform estate. The sources distinguish between “great” and “lesser” boyars, but these broad labels concealed numerous degrees of wealth, official rank, and proximity to the ruler. At first, noble status probably depended chiefly on office and participation in government. Large-scale landownership became increasingly important during the thirteenth century, and by the fourteenth century control of an extensive domain often provided the basis for administrative, judicial, and military autonomy.
This change can be seen in the emergence of powerful provincial lords. Smilets and his brothers Voisil and Radoslav held lands south of the Balkan Mountains, the Shishman family established itself at Vidin, and Balik, Dobrotitsa, and Ivanko successively governed a large domain in Dobruja. Such territorial powers might formally recognize the tsar while possessing resources and interests of their own. Relations between the crown and the boyars were therefore often tense, particularly when central government was weak.
Boyar participation in choosing and deposing rulers did not always follow stable rules. In 1323 the aristocracy reached agreement on Michael Shishman, but other changes of ruler were influenced by gifts, promises, and fear. In 1278 Michael VIII Palaiologos won part of the Bulgarian nobility over to the candidacy of Ivan Asen III while Ivaylo’s uprising threatened the established order. George I Terter later secured support in Tarnovo, and in 1300 Theodore Svetoslav used gifts to win over the leading men of the capital when Chaka was removed, although the same circles had accepted Chaka shortly before.
There were also occasions when personal privileges outweighed the interests of the state. When the Treaty of Regina was concluded in 1256, Rostislav Mikhailovich, the father-in-law of Michael II Asen, received an enormous payment in gold, horses, and precious objects while Byzantium gained Bulgarian territory. The Serbian king Vladislav sent gold to the patriarch of Tarnovo and the tsar’s counsellors and succeeded in taking the relics of Saint Sava of Serbia from the Church of the Forty Martyrs. After the defeat at Velbazhd in 1330, Stefan Dečanski’s promise to preserve boyar privileges persuaded part of the aristocracy to lead him into the Bulgarian interior, although the plan was thwarted.
Ownership of land also brought power over the people who cultivated it. Boyars could collect revenue, impose labour obligations, and sometimes exercise administrative and judicial authority within their territories. An extreme example is Strez, the brother of Tsar Boril and an independent lord at Prosek. A hostile Serbian saint’s life portrays him holding feasts on a platform above the Vardar and ordering people condemned for minor offences to be thrown from the cliff, calling after them, “Take care not to wet your coat.” The account is moralizing and probably exaggerates its subject’s cruelty, but it shows how readily the authority of a provincial lord could be perceived as arbitrary.
Most of the population consisted of dependent cultivators and other subordinate people, commonly described by the collective term lyude, or “people.” Royal charters mention paritsi, meaning dependent peasants; otrotsi, people subject to a more severe form of personal dependence; and tekhnitari, who were associated with a particular craft or skill. This was not a complete list: some documents add a formula covering every other kind of dependent person. An individual’s position depended on landholding, working animals, the way dependence had arisen, and the person’s relationship with the lord. The boundaries between categories were flexible, but movement usually led towards lower status.
Some medieval writings call these people “slaves” or “common slaves.” The word did not always mean slavery in the ancient sense; it often indicated the lowest social rank and direct dependence on a lord. The sources contrast such people with the “free,” usually meaning peasants belonging to the tsar. The latter might formally enjoy freedom of movement and were not necessarily bound to a private estate, but their land remained their only secure means of subsistence. In practice, therefore, the difference between a crown peasant and the parik of a private landowner could be limited.
The principal obligations included payments in kind amounting to as much as one-tenth of what was produced, as well as corvée, or compulsory labour for the lord. Corvée was defined less by a fixed number of days than by the particular task that had to be completed. It included ploughing, digging, harvesting, and haymaking, but also the construction and guarding of fortresses and prisons. Oxen, horses, mules, and other working animals could also be requisitioned for these services.
From the end of the thirteenth century, some payments in produce began to be replaced by cash dues. This was burdensome for peasants because coins were difficult to obtain while agricultural produce sold cheaply. Excavations of poor dwellings usually uncover only a few copper coins. As many as fifty copper coins have been found in some semi-sunken houses below Tarnovo’s Momina Krepost hill, probably accumulated over a long period as a small reserve. Such meagre finds suggest that silver coins rarely reached the poor and that the more developed money economy chiefly served the prosperous social groups.
The evidence for free urban inhabitants is less clear. The varied and standardized production found at Tarnovo and other centres shows that many goods were made for sale rather than merely for direct use. This implies greater economic opportunities and possibly some form of occupational association, although the sources do not permit their organization to be reconstructed with confidence. Literary texts mention khudozhnitsi, a word that could then mean skilled masters and craftspeople, rather than artists alone in the modern sense.
The division between rich and poor occupies an important place in writings accessible to ordinary people. Kolednitsi, grŭmnitsi, and trepetnitsi—different manuals for making predictions from calendar days, natural events, or bodily signs—offered answers about harvests, livestock disease, wars, and the fate of rulers. They frequently promised a reversal of the social order: “mourning for the rich, joy for the poor.” Other predictions acknowledged a bleaker reality and foresaw nothing good for the poor. As early as the eleventh century, Kekaumenos explained the Bulgarian word bogat, “rich,” through the idea that a wealthy man appeared like a god to the poor.
Apocrypha—religious writings outside the officially recognized books of the Church—gave bolder expression to hopes for retribution. In the next world the rich might find themselves surrounded by gold and silver but without food, while the poor would sit before a table laden with dishes. Some works went beyond merely exchanging their places. They awaited a just ruler who would replace weapons with sickles and farming tools. In the imagined kingdom, want, disease, and the division between rich and poor would disappear, and there would be “great love” among the people. These images reveal both intense social discontent and a longing for peace and a secure livelihood.
The people scarcely appeared as an independent actor in official political language. Medieval political thought favoured personal rule and viewed collective decisions with suspicion. The origins of historical figures were regularly emphasized: it mattered whether a person came from a renowned family or from the lower ranks of society. The distinction between estates was thus presented not merely as an economic reality but also as a basis for determining who was entitled to govern.
At church councils in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, the tsar, patriarch, bishops, and boyars were accompanied by a “great multitude of chosen people.” These were probably mainly inhabitants of the capital, and representatives of different social groups may have been among them. There is no firm evidence, however, that they took part in debate or possessed a decisive vote. Their presence probably gave the appearance of general assent and preserved a distant memory of older assemblies rather than providing genuine popular representation.
Two episodes suggest that public opinion could nevertheless emerge in exceptional circumstances. The Life of Euthymius of Tarnovo claims that “the whole people” participated in the search for a worthy patriarch; this may indicate broadly expressed confidence, but it does not prove a formal process of popular election. In 1351 envoys of John VI Kantakouzenos came to Ivan Alexander to request funds for a fleet intended to prevent Ottoman forces from crossing the Straits. A crowd gathered near the palace in Tarnovo loudly supported the proposal, and the tsar explained the meaning of its cries to the Byzantines. The alliance was never realized, but the episode shows that the inhabitants of the capital understood the danger and could state their position publicly. Such demonstrations were rare and did not constitute an established political right.