ORB Online Encyclopedia

                        Overview of Late Antiquity--The Sixth Century

                 Section 2: Government and Society in the Old Roman World, A.D. 500-530

                                              Steven Muhlberger

       The foundation of the Roman empire and the ancient Mediterranean economy was a network of cities and towns, each of
       which had been the capital of a rural district, whose economic life supported the town and was directed by officials and
       landowners who lived in the town. During the imperial period, the cities had become as dependent on imperial patronage
       as the empire was on control of towns. Indeed, on the borders, the cities had from the beginning owed their entire
       existence to the empire. They were built because they were needed by the Mediterranean economy or by a political system
       based in the Mediterranean.

       The decline of the empire seen in the last chapter thus had a direct effect on towns in much of western Europe. The new
       rulers, less powerful than their predecessors, had a more difficult time collecting the old taxes, especially the crucial land
       tax. This was a relief for the taxpayer, perhaps especially for the rich landowner; but the unanticipated result was a
       deterioration of the political position of the town. Towns that were no longer collecting tribute for rulers, and no longer
       receiving privileges and gifts from them, lost much of their reason to be. And where towns diminished, so did the
       distinctive urban culture rooted in the pagan Mediterranean. A dramatic example is Trier, in the Rhineland. During the
       fourth century it had been an imperial capital and the largest city in Gaul. Even then, with no more than 30,000 people,
       Trier was only about the size of a county seat in Egypt; but it had all the amenities of urbanity, paid for out of the profits
       of empire. In A.D. 500, Trier, now just a provincial town under Frankish rule, had lost most of its population and could no
       longer support something as basic as a local pottery industry. Of its public buildings, only its churches remained in use.

       The urban decline was most marked in Britain. British towns had been so tied into the taxation system of the empire that
       they had disappeared or shrunk into mere strongholds by 450, even before the wars between Britons and English invaders
       were well started. Gildas, a British preacher who denounced the rulers of the British west about 550, depicts them as
       minor warlords whose power was restricted to small areas and dependent on their ruthlessness and their personal retinues
       of warriors. Farther east, English kings lorded over equally small areas, and like the British kings must have depended on
       plunder and extorting contributions directly from rural taxpayers. The governmental structure of Roman Britannia had

       More on sub-Roman Britain.

       Ideologically and psychologically Britain lived in a new world, too. Neither English nor Britons thought of themselves as
       Romans. Gildas, despite his own mastery of legal and literary Latin, did not identify with the empire (which, we must
       remember, still existed elsewhere). For Gildas, the Romans were a foreign people who in the far past had tried to give the
       Britons a sense of discipline and order, before finally leaving them to their fate. Roman Britain was only a rhetorical
       device that allowed him to illustrate how low contemporary Britain had fallen. The imperial past provided lessons for
       today's Christians, but it had little to do with current reality.

       In most of the continental provinces, cities retained some economic importance and much of their historic culture. In Gaul
       and Spain, the Roman-era civitates or city-states were also the basic political units of the Frankish, Burgundian, and
       Visigothic monarchies (and perhaps of the Suevic as well). It was with the bishops and the leading men of these towns
       that the kings had to deal when they wished to raise taxes or enforce their decisions. But in such dealings, kings had less
       power to get their way than emperors had once had. We know, thanks to the famous Histories (often called the History
       of the Franks) of Gregory, bishop of Tours between 573 and 594, how people in Gaul fought against the land-tax,
       gaining from their Frankish kings wide exemptions and even the wholesale burning of tax-registers. Similarly, the
       bishops of M*rida struggled with some success against the efforts of the powerful Visigothic King Leuvigild to
       strengthen Arianism and with it royal control of the town.

       The kings of Gaul and Spain, although they had much of the property and legal prerogatives of the emperors, were
       insecurely perched on top of a mostly Roman-style society. Since most landowners, large and small, had little
       commitment to these kings, and did their best to shake off public duties formerly owed to the imperial government, a
       king's chief asset was the loyalty of his military followers, particularly the people from whom he derived his title. Without
       the Franks behind him, the king of the Franks would have been inconsequential. Maintaining that crucial cadre was no
       easy task. Its identity was fragile. Successful barbarians tried to blend into the more sophisticated Roman society around
       them, while some Romans preferred the life of a free warrior to the life of a taxpayer. (Theodoric, the king of Italy,
       described this process pithily: "A poor Roman plays the Goth, a rich Goth the Roman.") Rivalry within the ruling groups
       was rampant. Frankish or Visigothic kings were in grave danger from their kin and close associates (as were the British
       kings Gildas called "tyrants."). Kings' claims to ancient lineage or noble blood were desperate attempts to ward off the
       assassin's knife. Their legitimacy and survival were always in doubt.

       Thus kings reached greedily for anything that might increase their power. At the beginning of the century, Frankish,
       Burgundian, and Visigothic kings legislated, in Latin, for both their own people and their Roman subjects, to demonstrate
       their key position in the social order. The Frankish king Clovis daringly rejected the Arianism that had become the badge
       of barbarian distinctiveness, and became a Nicene Christian, hoping to increase his acceptability in the eyes of Gallic
       bishops and their congregations.

       A king's best tactic for building a loyal following was success in war, which increased his personal fortunes and allowed
       him to fill the pockets of his warriors with loot. Again, Frankish kings excelled at this. Clovis expelled the Visigoths from
       southern Gaul in 507; his sons (who ruled jointly after their father's death) conquered the Burgundians in 534, and
       annexed Provence and plundered northern Italy in the 540s and 550s. The Franks also reduced tribes beyond the Rhine to
       tributary status. But tribute in these wild parts was measured in cows rather than in gold or silver; the old Roman
       provinces were still the wealthiest countries of western Europe.

       North Africa and Italy were more tightly controlled from the center than Gaul or Spain, and the Vandal and the
       Ostrogothic kings based there were thus more powerful. The Vandal kings are famous as Arian persecutors, but the
       African economy flourished in their time anyway. The lands they ruled had been for a long time the economic
       powerhouse of the western empire. In previous centuries it had supported the city of Rome and funded the imperial court
       of the west. Now Africa's agricultural wealth no longer crossed the sea as tribute, and instead benefited the inhabitants of
       the kingdom, or at least some of them. Carthage was immensely wealthy.

       Archaeology shows that the long-term economic decline of Italy continued in the early sixth century. Because Italy could
       not draw on overseas resources, the income of its ruling classes and their ability to buy imports fell off. The slow
       depopulation of the countryside continued, and rural people were less and less involved in the market economy. Yet the
       stable rule of Theodoric was good for the country, and superficially much remained the same. Rome and Milan were
       among the largest cities in the world; Ravenna was a glittering capital; the ancient Senate of Rome was still prestigious,
       wealthy, and politically important. In fact, contemporaries debated whether Theodoric had not simply used Gothic military
       might to restore the imperial grandeur of Rome and Italy.

       Such talk was not just flattery. The king was an emperor in all but name. The imperial regalia, which Odoacer had sent to
       Constantinople in 476, had been sent to Theodoric by Anastasius in 497 and remained in the Palatium at Rome. One of
       the two yearly consuls, the honorary heads of the Roman state, was appointed by Theodoric, and his choice was
       recognized in Constantinople. And at the games in Rome and Ravenna (themselves an important symbol of traditional
       glory), the Gothic king was cheered as the New Trajan and the New Valentinian, in memory of two famous military
       emperors of times past. In all, Theodoric was the most powerful western monarch. His influence extended far beyond
       Italy; for some years after Clovis's crushing defeat of the Visigoths, Theodoric controlled Visigothic Spain through his

       All this did not make the Vandals and the Ostrogoths more secure than the Franks or the Visigoths. If Roman structures
       were strong in Africa and Italy, the status of their barbarian rulers was all the more precarious. For Theodoric, senatorial
       resentment of Constantinople and papal feuding with the emperors both helped his cause. But neither aristocratic pique
       nor theological division would last forever, and then he and his followers would find themselves in an awkward position.
       The Vandals, as occasional persecutors, at odds with an important segment of the subject population, were even more

       The imperial regime at Constantinople gained in strength in the early years of the century. In the east, in the Aegean,
       Egypt, Syria and much of Anatolia, population and the economy, both rural and urban, were growing. Empire and urban
       communities still supported one another: the disorder of eastern cities seen in the last chapter was as much a matter of
       expansion as it was of political instability. Even with all his troubles, the emperor Anastasius was able to leave a full
       treasury to his successor Justin when he died in 518. This reflects the success of the court in controlling the economy of
       the eastern provinces and reorienting it around the new capital.

       Historians traditionally call the imperial regime in the east the "Byzantine empire," (from Byzantium, the
       pre-Constantinian name of Constantinople), distinguishing this Greek Christian empire from the older empire based in
       Latin Italy. In the sixth century, no one would have made this distinction. Granted, both the capital and the government
       were increasingly Greek-speaking, since most Latin provinces were outside the capital's control; but the emperor was not
       the emperor of the Greeks, but of the Romans, rightfully the masters of the whole world. It was not clear in 500 that the
       Latin west was lost; even if it had been, no one in officialdom would have admitted it. They would have pointed out that in
       the course of Rome's long history provinces had been lost before and recovered.

       The Roman experience, even the heritage of the pagan past, had not lost all relevance during the early sixth century, at least
       in the Mediterranean. Despite the disapproval of Christian rigorists, writers in both Greek and Latin sought to adapt that
       heritage to present-day conditions. Fulgentius in North Africa (later a famous bishop and theologian) explained how
       eternal moral lessons were hidden in seemingly immoral pagan myths. Boethius, a minister in Theodoric's government,
       reintroduced Aristotle's writings on music and logic to his contemporaries by translating them into Latin, and despite a
       thorough grounding in Christian dogma, insisted that pre-Christian philosophers still had something worthwhile to say on
       living the good life. Cassiodorus, another Italian senator, propagandized for Gothic rule by showing the Goths as simply
       the latest nation to contribute its talents to the continuing story of empire. In Constantinople, the jurist Tribonian -- a
       Greek speaker by birth -- believed fervently that the Latin legal tradition was the best tool to reform the imperial state. The
       activities of such men reflected a distinctive current of Mediterranean thought in these decades: the idea that if the empire
       had gone through hard times lately, the foundations were strong enough to restore the edifice, given energetic and worthy
       leadership. In fact, this was a delusion. The traditional basis of Roman power and the traditional urban culture that had
       provided its leaders in the past were very fragile.

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Index, Overview of Late Antiquity.

Copyright (C) 1996, Steven Muhlberger. This file may be copied on the condition that the entire contents, including the header
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