Bryan Ward-Perkins

Government and administration

The late Roman period saw the development, for the first time in the Roman world, of complex bureaucratic structures which permitted emperors, who had now abandoned the campaigning or peripatetic style of most of their predecessors during the first four centuries of imperial history, to retain their authority. The emperor and his court with its glittering ceremonies in Constantinople was the focus for the eastern empire, and from there issued the laws which announced imperial wishes. The armies, though no longer directly commanded by emperors, strove to preserve the frontiers and maintain law and order inside them. But the smooth functioning of this system required administrative structures which had to become more complex and intrusive as the curial elites in individual cities, who had traditionally performed many vital tasks in the areas of revenue generation, dissemination of imperial wishes and preservation of local order, slowly declined in authority or surrendered control of some of these duties; here was a cyclical process, with administrative developments responding to, but also encouraging, a weakening of the curial class. The impact of administration is reflected in a story from the Life of Theodore of Sykeon: devils being exorcized cried out: ‘Oh violence! Why have you come here, you iron-eater, why have you quitted Galatia and come into Gordiane? There was no need for you to cross the frontier. We know you have come, but we shall not obey you as did the demons of Galatia, for we are much tougher than they, and not milder’.

The eastern empire: Theodosius to Anastasius

When he assumed sole rulership of the eastern half of the Roman empire in 408, Theodosius II became head of a state which during the short reign of his father Arcadius (395–408) had experienced an extraordinary array of crises. Gothic troops in Roman employ had risen in revolt under the leadership of Alaric in 395 and spent much time during the following years freely plundering the Balkan provinces until Alaric eventually decided to move westwards (401). Also in 395, nomadic Huns had invaded the empire through the Caucasus, bringing widespread destruction to Syria and eastern Asia Minor until 397. Another Goth named Gainas, who held a command in the Roman army, instigated a revolt which was only suppressed in 400 with much bloodshed in and around Constantinople. Within a few years there was further turmoil in the capital over the bitterly contested deposition and exile of the bishop John Chrysostom (403–4), while eastern Asia Minor suffered a prolonged bout of raiding by Isaurian brigands (403–6). In addition to all this, relations with the western half of the empire throughout Arcadius’ reign were characterized by antagonism and mutual suspicion, the result of the ambitions and rivalries of dominant individuals, such as Eutropius and Stilicho, at the courts of Arcadius in Constantinople and his younger brother Honorius in the west.

407 and All That: Retrospective

This short article examines the four preceding pieces, placing each in its own very particular historiographical and cultural context: Peter Heather’s “forensic” analysis, written to explain what really happened in 407; Mark Vessey’s elegant example of the “literary turn” and the world of cultural studies; Stefan Rebenich’s mining of an important historical source, done with all the care and integrity of the Germanic tradition; and Neil McLynn’s sharp exercise in source analysis, reminding more casual historians of the responsibilities that go with the use of texts.

The north-western provinces

The period between the accession of the Roman emperor Valentinian III in 425 and the death of the Visigothic king Leovigild in 586 inevitably occupies a central position in the debates relating to the transition from classical to medieval in western Europe, and more specifically to the questions of continuity and discontinuity. There is, however, another way of reading this century and a half, and that is as a period in its own right. Several historians working on fifth- and sixth-century Britain have, for instance, argued that between the history of the late Roman province of Britannia and that of Anglo-Saxon England lies a shorter but none the less distinct period that has been called ‘sub-Roman’. Britain can, of course, be seen as experiencing a history radically different from that even of the other parts of western Europe. Its western half was one of only two areas of the erstwhile Roman empire to witness the re-emergence of Celtic kings, and the other area where a similar development occurred, Brittany, had a history inseparable from that of Britain itself. Meanwhile, or perhaps subsequently, Latin language and culture were more thoroughly destroyed in the Germanic kingdoms of eastern Britain than in any other part of what had been the Roman west. Yet the distinctions between Britain and the rest of western Europe may seem clearer to us now, when examined with the benefit of hindsight, than they were at the time.

The Sasanid monarchy

ROMANS AND SASANIDS A chapter dealing with Iranian feudalism in a distinguished series dedicated to The Rise and Fall of the Roman World bears the title Iran, Rome’s Greatest Enemy. This title is more than merely a justification for the inclusion of a chapter on Iran in a series whose subject is Roman history. It also reflects a host of fears and prejudices fostered for long centuries in the Roman world, since the trauma of Crassus’ defeat by the Parthians at Carrhae. Not even extended periods of decline and internal disarray within the Parthian monarchy, in the course of which it was repeatedly invaded by the Roman army, could dispel the myth of the uncompromising threat posed by Iran to the Roman order. The replacement of the Parthian Arsacid dynasty by a new vigorous one, based in Fars, namely the Sasanid dynasty, at a time when the Roman empire itself was facing one of its severest crises, only aggravated its inhabitants’ deeply rooted fear of Iran. Ancient writers in the Roman oikoumene passed on this attitude to modern western scholars. It is the Sasanid bogeyman which has left a deep imprint in modern historiography. The Sasanid state is widely regarded as a much more centralized and effective political entity than its Parthian counterpart, with a far better army. The great pretensions and aspirations of its monarchs are believed to have been fed by the fervour of religious fanaticism, inspired by the Zoroastrian priesthood, which is commonly depicted as a well organized state church.

Justin I and Justinian

JUSTIN I (518–27) For understandable reasons the reign of Justin I tends to be eclipsed by that of Justinian, his nephew and successor (527–65). Not only was Justinian already a powerful figure during his uncle’s reign, but Procopius of Caesarea, the leading historian of Justinian, regarded his rule as effectively including that period. In view of their common background and the continuity of imperial policy in certain areas, Justin’s reign is often associated with that of Justinian in modern accounts. Although Anastasius had three nephews, Hypatius, Pompeius and Probus, there was no designated successor when he died in 518. As magister militum per Orientem, Hypatius was away from Constantinople, and Justin, then the head of the excubitors (the palace guard), is said to have used cash destined for the support of another candidate to bribe his troops to support his own name; as a result, on 10 July 518 he was proclaimed by the senate, army and people and then crowned by the patriarch. The new emperor was already elderly and his background was humble. He originated from Latin-speaking Illyricum, having been born at Bederiana, near Naissus (Nis), and he owed his success to his career in the guard. According to Procopius he was illiterate, and in his religious views he was staunchly Chalcedonian. Other contemporaries recorded the arrival of this backward provincial in Constantinople in about 470 and his subsequent success as something at which to marvel, and the story was depicted in art.

Family and friendship in the west

At the beginning of the fifth century the senatorial aristocracy of the late empire seemed well assured of its future. Its great dynasties, the Anicii and Symmachi among them, appear full of confidence in the letter collections of the period – those of Symmachus himself, but also of Jerome, Augustine and Paulinus of Nola. Nor were they much shaken by the initial break-up of the western empire, despite panic-stricken reactions to the arrival of the barbarians and to the invasions of the Huns. At the end of the fifth century the Italian aristocracy appears as confident as ever in the inscriptions of the Colosseum and in the letters of Ennodius of Pavia. Its Gallic counterpart, a little less grand in status, but of nearly comparable wealth, dominates the letter collections of Sidonius Apollinaris, Ruricius of Limoges and Avitus of Vienne, as well as having a significant profile in that of Ennodius (Provencal by birth, albeit Italian in his career). By the mid sixth century, however, the greatest of these dynasties were no longer a power in the west: Justinian’s Ostrogothic wars had destroyed their Italian base, although the Anicii themselves were still of some importance in Constantinople. However, while the front rank of the aristocracy had collapsed in Italy, in the successor states of Gaul its provincial counterpart survived, as is again evidenced by a letter collection, this time the poetic epistles of Venantius Fortunatus. In all probability it had also managed to hang on to much of its wealth.

Law in the western kingdoms between the fifth and the seventh century

Anyone seeking to write an account of law in the western kingdoms labours under two great difficulties. The student of Roman law can find comfort in the knowledge that his legal tradition was the creation of a political elite which prided itself upon its literary accomplishments. It was both a tool of government and one of the proudest manifestations of a literate culture. In the post- and non-Roman kingdoms, such comfortable assurance is only forthcoming in modest portions. The study of Roman law rests upon rich materials that have been analysed by some of the best minds of every generation since, in the eleventh century, Irnerius set out to teach the law of Justinian at Bologna. The written materials for a history of law in the western kingdoms are, however, much patchier and their relationship to the practice of law more uncertain. The second great difficulty is partly a consequence of the first: the almost irresistible temptation to judge all other laws in late antiquity by their relationship to Roman law. Moreover, this temptation may take a particularly pernicious form if one is induced to think of Roman law as, in some sense, ‘modern’ in outlook, so that the other laws can then be judged as relatively modern or primitive according to how closely they resembled Roman law. One form of this dangerous preoccupation is the ancient conception – already well expressed, for his own purposes, by Cassiodorus – of the culture of Europe as a fruitful mixture of Roman and Germanic (or Gothic).

Neil Christie. The fall of the Western Roman Empire: an archaeological and historical perspective . xiv+306 pages, 29 illustrations. 2011. London: Bloomsbury Academic; 978-1-84966-337-3 hardback; 978-0-34075-966-0 paperback £ 19.99; 978-1-84966-031-0 e-book.

Overall, the volume offers a wide picture of the ceramic assemblages used in settlements, which constitute useful comparanda for other sites. However, the volume is lacking a coherent project design focused on answering historical questions from the point of view of ceramics and using an interdisciplinary approach. In most of the papers the descriptive tradition from which Italian research seems unable to progress predominates; that descriptive element is far better served by illustrations, tables and histograms. Also lacking is a critical discussion of the chronologies of such ancient wares in relation to their contexts, of terminology, of the relationship between form and function and of literary and epigraphic sources. Hardly any of the papers use an interdisciplinary approach, which could for example include the identification of food residues in order to understand the use of ceramic artefacts. Lastly and regrettably, the volume lacks a conclusion, which would have highlighted the innovative aspects of the papers and suggested new ways of enhancing our knowledge of southern Etruria on the eve of the Roman period through ceramic studies.

Armenia in the fifth and sixth century

‘Armenia’ has always had an ambiguous place between the major powers, be they the east Roman empire and Sasanian Iran, the Byzantine empire and the caliphate, or the Ottoman empire and the Safavids. Armenian loyalties have not been consistent, either in support of a coherent internal policy or with regard to external diplomacy. The very definition of ‘Armenia’ highlights the problem. Does the term refer to a geographical entity – and if so, what are its borders? Or does it refer to a people with common bonds – and if so, are those bonds linguistic, religious, cultural or political? Despite the conversion of king Tiridates to Christianity, probably in 314, and the establishment of an organized church, the continuing strength of Iranian traditions and the cultural and kinship ties of the Armenian nobility to Iran made Armenia an uncertain ally for the Romans. Yet since the Armenian monarchy was a branch of the Arsacid dynasty which had been overthrown by the Sasanians in 224, relations between Armenia and Iran were already strained. Tiridates’ conversion compounded an already difficult situation, for the shahs naturally became suspicious of the future loyalty of Armenians to their Iranian heritage. In the fifth century, attempts by the shahs to impose Zoroastrianism led to armed conflict – while to the west, the Armenians found their relationship with fellow Christians increasingly marred by their involvement in the struggles over orthodoxy. The division of Armenia c . 387 into two monarchies and two spheres of influence – a large Iranian sector east of the forty-first parallel of longitude, and a much smaller Roman sector west of that line up to the Euphrates – did not solve ‘the Armenian question’.