Endgame

 

I, too, have sinned, and proposed to reevaluate the founding of Constantinople. As the ultimate white elephant in a bruised economy, Constantinople was sucking the life blood out of the provinces. To adorn his new capital and feed  “the mouths of Constantine’s creatures with the marrow of the Empire”, Constantine’s agents kept scouring the land, dismantled buildings and pillaged works of art “so that the provinces shall no longer own it” (Ammianus). Every pillar, every column still standing in Constantinople was once stolen from somewhere else. And when, only 23 years later, all this plunder burned down in a fire, an other round of looting took away what had escaped the first time. To feed the new capital the corn supply from Egypt was redirected and no longer available for Greece and Italy; even Italy’s grain supply from Africa came repeatedly under threat. Lately a geologist has pointed out the silting of major Mediterranean harbors in the 3rd century which must have affected the urban developments of the period.

Interesting facts, but what do they explain? This is life. People make a mess of it and then muddle through. The silting harbors could no longer support the maritime trade of the 4th century, so the Romans built new harbors and the centers of commerce moved on to new places.

Of course some economic facts are undeniable. When Emperor Diocletian retired in 305 AD., one pound of gold was worth a hundred-thousand denarii. In 472 AD., the same pound of gold was in the market for 2,000,120,000,000 denarii (two billion and one hundred-twenty million) according to a calculation by the US treasury. The military, too, came under scrutiny. The catastrophic defeat in the battle of Adrianople on August 9, 378 AD. made a deep impression on the contemporary observer, it evoked memories of Canae, but the figures don’t add up. The victorious Goths could be assembled in just one wagon train – that is not more than 16,000 people tops and includes the women and children – a refugee camp on the march. The Roman troops sent against them, were scraped from the bottom of the barrel of the Persian border defenses; they lacked coherence in their composition. Too many generals, too few fighters. The Roman deployment still outnumbered and outflanked the Goths, but the formation was split in three columns. The Romans lost coordination and the Gothic chief destroyed the column right in front of him while his cavalry effectively screened his movements. In the general confusion Emperor Valens and a few guards sought to make a last stand in the ruins of an abandoned cottage. Rafters fell from the burning roof on the emperor and killed him. Like Custer’s at Little Big Horn it was an entirely unnecessary defeat and didn’t really tip the balance of power.

In the decades after the battle, it took some ingenuity and nimble footwork for the chief of operations to police with a glorified SWAT team of some 5,000 man an area that centuries earlier had been protected by thirty heavily armed brigades of professional soldiers, 150,000 man altogether, plus twice as many auxiliaries. But, if nothing else, the comes et magister utriusque militiae Stilicho demonstrated that it can be done, despite the unceasing squabbling and back-biting between the various centers of administration in East and West. Mind you, that was the period when the “barbarian invasions” were supposed to turn everything upside down. We even hear of the recruiting of Arab tribesmen for the territorial defences under the walls of Constantinople. The Arabs were reliable and proved their value. Who would have thought that one day the Byzantine empire would fight for dear survival against these tribesmen’s grandchildren?

A good approximation for the actual strength of the invading tribes and the population figures of the late empire are the census figures from the United States of America in the 1880s. The Dakota (Sioux) nation, when still considered “intact,” was numbered 48,000 individuals. This approximates the total of the Goths with all their allies and families on both sides of the border. The total of the US population at the time was somewhere in the order of fifty million. A mere five thousand US cavalry policed 150,000 natives. Rome’s problem, too, was not the numbers. Emperor Julian the Apostate (361 – 363 AD.) campaigned against Germanic raiders into France with less than 14,000 troops, of which 10,000 had been Frankish conscripts from the neighborhood. For centuries the Frank peasantry and their nobles had filtered in westward, most of the time peacefully, and in the process had become hardworking and taxpaying Romans. When these people finally made their bid for a greater political share in the system historians suddenly became hysterical and talked of “Barbarian Invasions.” But Roman administrators used to resettle colonies of migrants since the days of the Republic. Julius Caesar, the dictator, had built his career on it. So what had changed? Apparently it was the administration who threw prudence overboard and became more and more high handed and arrogant in these matters: “Sueridus and Colias, two nobles of the Goths, who had some time before been friendly received with their people had been sent to Hadrianople to pass the winter in that city. But, on a sudden, letters arrived from the emperor. They were ordered to cross over to the province of the Hellespont. In a very modest manner, they asked to be provided with provisions, and to be allowed a respite of two days. But the chief magistrate of the city was indignant, being also out of humor with them on account of some injury which had been done to property of his in the suburbs, and he roused a great mob of the lowest of the people and led them forth armed to hasten the departure of the Goths. The Goths stood without moving. The were bewildered and alarmed by this unexpected calamity; to them this outbreak of the citizens, looked more as if caused by a sudden impulse than by any deliberate purpose. And being assailed beyond all endurance by reproaches and manifestations of ill will, and also by occasional missiles, they at last broke out into open revolt” (Ammianus XXXI, 17:3).

The historian witnessed the events first hand; he gives us the name of a certain Fritigern as the chief of the Goths. If we replace “Fritigern” with “Sitting Bull” the American reader will suddenly recognize a familiar pattern. Custer’s last stand was Adrianople all over again, a consequence of the same kind of stupidity and inaptitude. On the other hand, the U.S. cavalry were all white soldiers except for a hand full of Indian scouts. What if the US army had recruited its entire cavalry from the natives? Because that’s the impression we get from the Romans.

The supreme commander of the horses, was General Victor, a Sarmatian by birth. The  most energetic and competent generals fighting the Goths were of Gothic stock themselves. They had enlisted not as hired mercenaries, or “foederati,” but began their careers as regular conscripts who had risen through the ranks. Like General Frigeridus, a commander “who knew as well how to command as to preserve his troops” (Ammianus). On previous engagements the Gothic general had prepared for battle “with great prudence“ and “after the Gothic chief, the much-dreaded cause of all these troubles, had been slain, he voluntarily spared the rest and allotted to them for cultivation the districts around the Italian towns of Modena, Reggio, and Parma”  (Ammianus). Frigeridus’s superior, the Roman chief of staff of all imperial forces, was the comes et magister utriusque militiae Richomer, a Frank, born in France. He was an educated man, well read in the classics and in the Greek literature of his time, an admirer of the pagan publicist Libanius (314 – 394 AD.). Incidentally Richomer provided patronage for an other countryman of his, a certain Eugenius, a man of the local aristocracy, also a man of learning and culture. When another general of Frankish origin – Arbogast – involved him in a coup, Eugenius accepted the purple in August 22, 392 AD. and immediately went into negotiations with Richomer’s boss, the emperor Theodosius I. This failed and the usurper looked for the backing of his claims by the still pagan senate in Rome; he issued edicts of toleration: not to protect Christians from pagan persecution – that was a thing of the past – but protecting the Pagan population from the harassment by Christian Taliban and Ayatollahs.

This was the opportunity the chief of the Italian administration, “Saint” Ambrose of Milan (338 – 397 AD.) had been waiting for. Ambrose was the Christian equivalent of Lenin, even in the facial expression, a Bolshevik if ever there was any. His cassocked spin-doctors made sure that the ensuing civil war was going to be spun as the final showdown between Christians and Pagans.

This was hardly true. The combatants and civil servants in both camps were mainly Christians; although within the spectrum of Christian churches in the empire, the Catholics were still the minority. Emperor Theodosius issued mobilization orders and the hostilities commenced. The decisive encounter at the Frigidus in 384 AD. terminated Eugenius’ brief bid for power and his severed head was planted on the point of a pike. It also kind of terminated the ambitions of the Frankish faction among the tribal players in the Roman army; at least for a while. So the Frankish nobles turned their energies to more domestic objectives and the provinces in France inched closer to complete autonomy; it became more and more difficult to move enlistments away from their home territories: "The count moved forwards from France, bringing with him some cohorts, which were cohorts in name only. The greater portion of them had already deserted for fear, that France, now divested of all the troops, would be open to ravage by unchecked raiding parties crossing the Rhine. So Richomer returned to France, to convey reinforcements" (Ammianus).

A revealing observation: the Roman army was not an army of mercenaries; the Roman soldier enlisted as a conscript and if found able bodied was permitted to sign up for professional service over a given period of time, with the prospect of a sizeable reward at his discharge.

In the first centuries of the imperial army, the soldier was prohibited from marrying during the period of his enlistment and we don’t hear of any difficulties of moving legions to distant places far from their home base. From the second half of the 3rd century onward the tight ruling on marriages in the army was beginning to be amended and relaxed. As a result the local levies became more territorial and a conscript was rather hesitant to sign up to a service far away from his family. Orders are orders, but the commanders had not always the authority to enforce them as the Roman emperors were to discover during the great recession between 234 AD. and 284 AD. when the economy went tits up. The legions canvassed various junta chiefs and at the drop of a hat assassinated the contender for another pretender. No emperor at his accession could expect to see his next birthday alive. But the imperial administration was built on solid foundations. When the central government literally declared bankruptcy in 260 AD. and hat in hand went to the senate in Rome and asked for a cash injection, the provinces took matters into their own hands, with France taking the lead. From the looks of it the Imperium Galliarum was a seditious province; but the French emperors Postumus, Marius, Victorinus and Tetricus seemed to have considered themselves as custodians of the fragmenting empire with a mandate on borrowed time. A senate of French nobles enacted business during the absence of magistrates appointed by Rome. The circumstances when Emperor Aurelian – a good man – restored the authority of the central government are rather curious. The armies faced each other at Chalôn, but Tetricus and his son handed themselves over to Aurelian and ended their lives in peaceful retirement. France rejoined the empire; the French nobles were accredited in their assumed positions. Partly this was the work of a mysterious woman, Victorina, the “Mother of the Camps,” who traveled between the rebellious armies and negotiated terms with a strangely unchallenged authority. The imperial mint commemorated her on the coinage. Down the line, however, these events could only foment the move to greater autonomy of the provinces.

Of course there were also genuine invasions, the most notable by Attila the Hun. Not unlike the modern tabloids, our sources revel in the description of a seemingly desperate situation where the Roman border defenses were continually overwhelmed by “barbarians” who covered the earth like locusts. But even in the case of the undoubted mass migration of Attila’s confederacy of nomadic horsemen, one is left to wonder. Azimus or Azimuntium, a small town in Thrace on the Illyrian border (to modern Bulgaria), decided to ignore the decrees from the Capital. Instead of surrendering hostages and handing over treasure to the Hunnic raiders, the burgers of Azimuntium sallied out of the less than impressive fortifications and raided the Hunnic camps with impunity; even captured hostages, negotiated prisoner exchanges and then executed the Hunnic POWs without holding their end of the bargain. And Attila, the mighty Attila, the scourge of God, poor thing, was powerless. His emissaries came whining to the imperial court, but Constantinople admitted that it had no control over the Azimuntians. This was getting bad, the great chieftain was losing face, something he couldn’t afford. Did he call together his confederates and came to wipe out Azimuntium? This town was an ordinary provincial magistracy with no armed forces stationed in the vicinity; it depended entirely on the local constabulary and on emergency levis from the able-bodied citizenry. No match for the Huns, one should think. Think again! Attila meekly offered a parley and more hostages as a guarantee for the safe conduct of the Azimuntian plenipotentiaries. The negotiation got him nowhere and his latest hostages, too, ended up impaled on pikes. So Attila turned his attention westward and invaded Italy and France. After initial success he was ultimately defeated by a confederacy of very nervous militias. Only days before the battle they had been recruited on short notice by a professional general who arrived with little more than a handful of guards in his train. There were last minute desertions in the Roman ranks, but it didn’t make any difference for the outcome.

This military inability among tribal migrants should not be taken as a sign for a primitive and unsophisticated way of life; far from it. It rather seemed the symptom for the natural hesitance of cultured civilians to get embroiled in barroom fights. The degree of literacy on a Gothic wagon train was above the average of the territories the tribe was visiting, and in the beginning, these territories were in Greece, no less. This is not as surprising as it sounds. The most extraordinary epigraphic collection under the Romans are the Safaitic graffiti in southwest Syria and the north of Jordan. They cover the period from the 1st to the 4th century AD.; 12,000 rock cut graffiti, more than there have been found at Pompeii. Apparently the inscriptions had been the work of a nomadic (sic!) population. There are so many of these inscriptions, it raises intriguing questions about ancient literacy in general.

The Goths, too, knew how to communicate their thoughts in writing. Of all nations they were the first to read the Christian Bible translated into their own national language. Bishop Wulfila (311 – 383 AD.) had translated the Bible even before Jerome finished work on the Vulgate. This Wulfila belonged to the Gothic clergy; the Goths, like many of the migrating tribes, were Christians, and their spiritual leaders doubled as the Goths’s diplomatic corps, exploiting every duplicitous trick in the book. In fact, it seems, they wrote this book. But this was not the only factor the Goths could turn to their advantage. Ammian informs us, that the Goths “were greatly encouraged by the multitude that came daily into their camp to join them: runaway slaves and many others who were suffering from severe poverty; a not inconsiderable number, of whom many were skilled in the arts and trades, but unable to endure the heavy burden of their taxes“ (Ammianus XXXI, 7:3-6). The lower classes welcomed the Goths as liberators from their misery, but for the imperial administration this was just business as usual. “The regime,” noted the Greek historian Zosimus, “did not attend to the sufferings of Macedon and Thessaly, but sent their tax collectors as if nothing had happened. Whatever had been spared by the humanity of the Barbarians was seized, even the ornaments of the women, and their clothes, reducing them almost to nakedness. Every town was therefore filled with tears and complaints,” – and now listen to this – everybody calling out for the Barbarians, and desiring their assistance.” We catch a glimpse on the true nature of what the text books use to present entirely as a tribal migration, also known as the “Wandering of the Nations.” Once we run the numbers one must realize that these migrants were just the leaven in the dough, a mere catalyst, the fuse that ignited already existing social unrest. This was a revolution of the lower classes, taking up arms against the atrocious fiscal practices of the Roman revenue. But there is more.

The following is the most astonishing piece of evidence I’ve ever read: “And now the people of the Alemanni, belonging to the district of Lintz on the border to Tyrol, violated their longstanding treaty with the empire, and this calamity came about like this: A young soldier from this nation who served in the imperial guards, returned home on furlough; and being a chatty person, he told them that Emperor Valens had sent for his nephew in France to assist his campaign in the East. The people of Lintz pricked their ears at this intelligence and covertly assembled in bands, and when the Rhine was frozen over they raided the border to France in the month of February. The French territorial defenses  repulsed them, but not without considerable loss” (Ammianus).

Does the man actually know what he is telling us?

For starters, the soldier is a foreign national. This was common practice. The Romans habitually accepted regular enlistments from hostile nations across the border, even encouraged it. So his commanding officer has no qualms of sending the young man on holiday, which excludes the possibility that the man was a hostage – the Roman equivalent of a student exchange program. In other words, the soldier was a volunteer who had enlisted in the Roman army. As a regular he had received basic training and now rose through the ranks. One day he may even occupy a top rank in the system. He was trusted as a potential emissary for the Roman way of life. It seemed never to occur to anybody in charge that this man was privy to classified information that should never cross the border. So not surprising, the most common and least understood feature in those years was the superior intelligence of Rome’s enemies. They seemed to anticipate every move before a Roman commander even thought of it. The raiding parties knew exactly where to go and when to strike. They had first hand intelligence, not from some top ranking traitor, but from the regular soldier who is having a holiday and doesn’t do anything wrong. It took the Romans some time to appreciate the necessity for counterintelligence. Marshall Stilicho was the first to filter false information to the enemy abroad. This communication with the enemy, prompted the domestic opposition to accuse the marshall of high treason. Stilicho paid for it with his reputation and his life.

Since Emperor Constantine the number of Germanic regulars in the ranks was beginning to snowball. By the time of Julian the Apostate virtually 90% of the top ranking officers were foreign nationals. The peasants working the land were kinsmen from the families of POWs. Vandal farmers turned their plots to a Garden of Eden and it became Spanish Andalusia. The text books tell us of the “barbarization” of the Empire in its last stages, but long before it came to this, from the top brass and the magistrates in the centers of commerce down to the peasant, “barbarians,” were effectively running the empire; people of a foreign origin who nevertheless thought of themselves as Romans.  

© - 31/1/2009 - by michael sympson, 3,600 words, all rights reserved

Proprietary Notice: © – 04/10/2003 – by michael sympson. Text may be downloaded for personal use, provided all copies retain the copyright and proprietary notices. No material may be modified, edited or taken out of context. Any commercial use in advertising or publicity requires permission in writing by the author’s estate.