by David Potter
The story of the decline of the western empire is initially that of two empresses: Galla Placidia (c. AD 388–450), the long-suffering daughter of Theodosius I, and Pulcheria, the sister of the emperor Theodosius II. Galla Placidia was one of the prizes abducted from Rome by Alaric in AD 410. In the years after the sack of Rome she accompanied the Goths, now led by Athaulf, the half-brother of Alaric, as they moved to Gaul. There then ensued a highly complex series of events culminating in the collapse of the regime of the usurper Constantine III. At the same time, the Vandals and Sueves, the invaders of AD 407, occupied Spain, wreaking havoc on its inhabitants, and Athaulf’s Goths, now called the Visigoths, took over territory along the southern coast of Gaul. In AD 414, Athaulf married Galla and proclaimed Priscus Attalus – the emperor installed and deposed by Alaric who had remained with the Goths throughout the intervening years – as his own emperor. Athaulf’s ultimate ambition is revealed by the fact that when Galla bore him a son at the end of AD 414, the child was named Theodosius. Since Honorius was childless, the boy would have been an obvious candidate for the succession at Ravenna if he had lived, but he did not survive infancy. A year later, Athaulf was murdered, and his successor returned Galla to Constantius, the magister militum of Honorius’ regime, and acceded to the Roman request to attack the tribes in Spain. In AD 418, after years of wanton slaughter in Spain, the Visigoths were rewarded with land of their own around Toulouse.
The empire in the west was by now a shambles. Britain, which had expelled the representatives of Constantine III in AD 410, was barely part of the empire any longer. Its tiny garrison was fully occupied defending the country against raids by the tribes north of Hadrian’s Wall (the Picts and Scots) as well as raiders from across the North Sea (Angles, from Schleswig, and Saxons). The Burgundians, a tribe that had taken advantage of the collapse of the Rhine frontier to establish themselves in Roman territory, occupied a substantial portion of northwestern France. Southwestern France was now the home of the Visigoths; and most of Spain was Roman in name only. The regime in the east was largely untroubled by these reverses. After all, the west yielded no revenue, and was obviously in no position to provide military support should any be needed. As long as Honorius was alive, the government of Theodosius II rested easy in the knowledge that there was a representative of the dynasty in place. But if that dynasty were to continue, the key figure would be Galla Placidia.
Constantius could fairly claim that he had rescued Galla from the hands of the barbarians, and that she should show him due gratitude by accepting his generous offer of marriage. Galla, however, found him abhorrent and the prospect of becoming his wife deeply distasteful. Ever since his defeat of Constantine, the ambitious Constantius had successfully inveigled himself into ever more influential positions within the regime. His self-appointment as a patrician was designed to advance his career still further. Galla was the key to the future of the western empire, for any offspring she bore would guarantee that western officialdom avoided potential take over by representatives of the dynasty from the east, or another civil war. Although she managed to resist what was essentially a political act of rape for three years, her brother finally forced her to take Constantius’ hand on 1 January, AD 418. Their son Valentinian III (AD 418–455) was born before the end of that year, with a second child, Honoria, following shortly thereafter. In early AD 421, having finally achieved his aim of being named Augustus (a title which the eastern court refused to recognize), Constantius suddenly died. The tensions in government between the ‘Germans’ and ‘Romans’, which he had kept in check, resurfaced almost immediately. Even as Constantius, the de facto leader of the ‘German’ group, was rising to power, the court of Honorius had issued a remarkable edict forbidding anyone to wear German dress within the walls of Rome. Galla now became the focus of loyalty for the German soldiers with whom her late husband had surrounded himself. At the same time, Honorius began to hint that he wanted carnal relations with his sister, and Galla fled to the east by the end of AD 423.
Empresses at the helm
The government of the east was far less colourful than that of the west. Although Arcadius was as weak-willed and ineffectual as his brother, he had made a much better marriage. After the revolt of Gainas, his wife Eudoxia had forged an alliance with powerful factions at court, and had herself proclaimed Augusta. No woman had held an imperial title since the death of Helena; despite howls of protest from Christian traditionalists, foremost among whom was John Chrysostom, archbishop of Constantinople, Eudoxia made it abundantly clear that she intended to exercise real authority, especially given the shortcomings of her husband in exercising his regnal duties. She died in AD 404, but the precedent she set for strong female rule paved the way for her daughter Pulcheria to become effective regent for her brother, Theodosius II (AD 401–450), who was only eight years old when he ascended the throne in AD 408.
In AD 413, as Pulcheria turned 14 and began to be looked upon as potential marriage material by ambitious politicians, she took a momentous decision that ultimately assured her a unique position in imperial society. Turning down all bids by the praetorian prefect Anthemius – a former key ally of her mother – to arrange a union with one of his relatives, she publicly devoted her virginity to God. Pulcheria was doubtless influenced in her decision by her profound loathing of Anthemius.
Pulcheria subsequently led a reclusive existence in the palace in the company of her younger sisters, who were inspired to follow her example. Together, they created an aura of imperial power that was inextricably linked with the Church. Through her public proclamation of virginity (probably genuine) and her essentially ascetic lifestyle, Pulcheria also helped foster a growing interest in the figure of the Virgin Mary. Thus began the cult of the Virgin and the influential area of ecclesiastical scholarship known as Marian theology. At the same time, however, Pulcheria pandered to more distasteful elements in the early Christian Church. In trying to prevent inter-Christian violence, she consciously acted as a lightning-rod, conducting intolerance onto relatively defenceless scapegoats. Jews were persecuted and synagogues destroyed, while pagans were systematically debarred from serving in the administration. In this way, she made her position within Constantinople unassailable; one clear lesson that had emerged from Eudoxia’s clash with St John Chrysostom was that whoever managed to harness the passions of fundamentalist Christians would wield enormous power in the capital. On 4 July, AD 414, Pulcheria was made Augusta by Theodosius II.
Even more significantly, the alliance that Pulcheria forged between the imperial office and the Church helped reconcile different groups within the bureaucracy. German generals now stood four-square with traditional aristocrats in the defence of the eastern empire. The institutionalized piety of the regime was clearly demonstrated in AD 415, when the supposed relics of the first Christian martyr, St Stephen, were discovered. The relics of Stephen were transported from Jerusalem to Constantinople with enormous pomp and ceremony before being deposited in the household of Pulcheria herself. Although the veneration of relics already had a long history in the early Church, the ever more prominent connection between political power and the possession of relics made their collection an important, and lucrative, aspect of Christian devotion and was eventually to become one of the principal bones of contention behind the Protestant Reformation. The dual meaning of the Latin term for the uncovering of relics (inventio) – ‘discovery’ or ‘invention’ – hints at the focus of later criticism.
On the positive side, the highly Christianized version of the imperial office that took shape in the eastern part of the empire did succeed in bringing the concept of emperorship back in line with contemporary social values. Disputes about doctrine were played out in massive church councils that assembled bishops from all over the empire. These synods were conducted in Greek rather than Latin, an important concession by an administration that still issued official proclamations in Latin, even though few people in the eastern empire used that language in their dail
y lives. People from outside the official power structure of the bureaucracy thus had an opportunity to meet with the emperor, and hear him declare his attachment to their values, in their own language. Even if there remained serious disagreements about the nature of God, and controversial rulings were not universally accepted, there was no question that the imperial government was now trying to address the concerns of its subjects. In the time of Augustus, the notion that the emperor represented the ideal of virtus had been essential in defining the purpose of the office. But as times changed, and the nature of the office with them, it needed to be imbued with new significance. An emperor who was the equal of the apostles was far more in tune with contemporary thought than one whose actions referenced the moral code of the Roman Republic.
From AD 421 onwards, Pulcheria had to share significant public space with her brother’s new wife Eudocia, who was just as able as Pulcheria but also more accepting of doctrinal differences. Although she converted before her marriage, her background as the daughter of a pagan family predisposed her to greater tolerance for religious nonconformity. As Theodosius’ wife, Eudocia enthusiastically espoused Christianity and rivalled Pulcheria in her demonstrations of devotion. In AD 438–439, for example, she made a pilgrimage to Jerusalem and brought back precious relics. At least in the short term, personal rancour between the two women tended to manifest itself exclusively in the form of religious dispute. While the imperial office was now conceived of in terms of Christian piety, the contemporary definition of this virtue did not preclude a ruler from entertaining a lust for power or meting out vicious treatment to political rivals. As a new threat emerged on the frontiers of the eastern empire, Eudocia’s position came under fire. In AD 443 her opponents at court succeeded in making a charge of adultery against her stick. She was exiled to Jerusalem, where she lived on until AD 460. Interestingly, she was allowed to retain her insignia as empress – an admission, perhaps, that the reason for her exile had had more to do with politics than sex.
The late western empire
Galla Placidia arrived in Constantinople at the very beginning of Eudocia’s period of ascendancy, and the new empress seems to have seen in Galla a useful tool to assert her own supremacy. Eudocia had been granted the title of Augusta after giving birth to a daughter in AD 421, around the time that Galla fled the west. This infant was now betrothed to Galla’s six-year-old son Valentinian III as a symbolic gesture of the eastern court’s interest in the succession to Honorius. The issue of succession arose almost immediately, for Honorius died before the end of AD 423, whereupon western officials tried to assert their independence by proclaiming a palace functionary named John as Augustus. He was a poor choice; the Visigoths declared allegiance to the cause of their former queen and began to attack imperial territory in Gaul, and the eastern court made extensive plans for an invasion of the west. The result was a foregone conclusion. John was captured, mutilated and executed in the circus at Aquileia.
The armies of the east were not sent to occupy the west. Once John was dead, it was Galla’s job to govern the west in the name of her son. To do so she had to balance the ambitions of three generals, Flavius, Boniface and Aetius, who had once served her late and unlamented husband, Constantius. These men had played various roles in the recent civil war. Flavius had been recalled from retirement; Boniface, who ruled Africa as a virtual principality, had openly sided with the invaders; while the third, Aetius (c. AD 396–454), had appeared at the head of an army of Huns just after John had been killed. Realizing that there was no point in defending a dead man, he paid off the Huns and accepted command of the army in Gaul. Having spent much of his youth as a hostage, first with the Goths of Alaric and Athaulf, and then with the Huns of Uldin, Aetius combined fierce ambition with a genuine knowledge of the people with whom he would have to deal. As an added bonus, he was also a genuinely talented officer. None of these qualities endeared him to the empress, however, who saw in him the image of Constantius, and her antipathy would prove disastrous. Thus it was that when Aetius arrested Flavius on a charge of conspiracy in AD 430, Galla summoned Boniface from Africa to bring him under control. Boniface died in the moment of victory, leaving control of Italy to his son-in-law, Sebastian, while Aetius sought aid from the Huns. With an army of Huns at his back, Aetius returned to Italy. Sebastian fled to Constantinople, and Aetius took control of the western empire, assuming the title of patrician in AD 435, just in time to face the loss of Africa.
Galla’s recall of Boniface could not have come at a worse time. After years of warfare both among themselves and against sundry Roman forces, the Vandals, Alans and Sueves had been severely weakened, so much so that one of the two Vandal tribes had virtually ceased to exist, and the Alans had been forced to join with the Vandals to form a new nation. In AD 429, Geiseric (c. AD 389–477), the leader of this new confederacy, recognized that there was no future in Spain, where years of conflict had ruined much of the land. He also realized that there was nothing that passed for an effective Roman fleet in the western Mediterranean, and so transported his people across the straits of Gibraltar into Africa. Boniface’s effort to organize resistance faltered in the face of his commitment in Italy, with the result that the Vandals gradually established themselves in the western provinces of Africa. Although their advance was halted in AD 435, when Aetius reinforced the African garrison with troops from the eastern empire, this interruption was only temporary. Geiseric captured Carthage in AD 439, and even as Aetius, aided again by forces from the east, assembled a fleet to invade Africa, the Huns appeared, with new leadership and new ambitions, to threaten the Balkan frontier. Eastern help evaporated, and Aetius had no choice but to negotiate a treaty recognizing Vandal control of the only remaining area from which the western empire could draw resources to support a significant army. To ensure the peace, Geiseric continued nominal tax payments from the region under his control in return for the betrothal of Valentinian’s infant daughter to his young son, Huneric. Ever the astute observer, Geiseric wanted security for his people, and had perhaps noted that Athaulf’s heir might have been a claimant to the throne. What was good for a Goth would be good for a Vandal, or so he may have thought.
The scourge of God
The new enemies that began to threaten the borders of the eastern empire from AD 443 onwards were the Huns. Ever since their emergence as a major force in the AD 370s the Huns who lived in the Balkans had more often assisted the empire than assailed it. With the exception of a brutal raid by Uldin in AD 407, the leaders of the Huns had chosen to accept large payments from the empire, either to keep the peace on their side of the frontier or to lend significant assistance at moments of crisis. This all changed shortly after the brothers Attila (c. AD 406–453) and Bleda (c. AD 390–445) came to power in AD 434. By far the dominant partner, Attila was a man whose vast ambition was matched by a propensity for ruthless savagery. Initially, Attila followed the traditional Hunnish policy of hiring out large mercenary armies to suppress Germanic enemies of the Roman empire.
Presently, however, Attila realized that his forces were more than a match for the moribund Roman empire. The change in Attila’s policy towards Rome is most clearly evident in his demand that the Huns control the frontier. For centuries the Roman empire had regulated trade across the frontier through border crossings, and had maintained a cordon sanitaire north of the Danube as a buffer against incursions. Yet when the historian Priscus of Panium accompanied a Roman mission to Attila in AD 449, he reports that he and his fellow legates passed through a deserted zone south, not north, of the Danube that took five days to cross. There could be no more potent demonstration of the reversal of fortunes as between the two empires. Well might the Hunnish ambassador Eslas boast that Theodosius was now Attila’s subject; by the time he did so, the annual tribute paid by the empire to the Huns had risen sixfold from 350 pounds of gold to 2,100 pounds. This great reversal in status resulted from two massive invasions of eastern Roman territory, the first in AD 441, and the s
econd in AD 447. During these incursions, Roman armies had proved incapable of resisting Attila’s armies and Attila had shown that he had the technology to capture fortified Roman cities – battering-rams and rolling siege towers. No other northern people had so mastered the techniques of siegecraft, which had hitherto been the preserve of Romans and Persians. Goths, Vandals and others relied on long blockades or sudden attacks on the rare occasions when they chose to ‘make war on walls’, and this had given the empire a measure of operational security.
There would be no such security in dealing with Attila, who made extensive use of engineers trained in Roman siege techniques in his army. The effects of Hunnish attacks can still be seen in the massive destruction layers evident at various archaeological sites throughout central Europe.
Defeat at the Catalaunian Fields
Even as Priscus’ legation was making its way north to see the great Hun, ambassadors of the ‘western Romans’ were being browbeaten by Attila. The Hun ruler accused them of ‘concealing stolen treasure and protecting the thief’ – in other words, harbouring and giving succour to the Huns’ enemies. In the past, when levelled at the eastern Romans, such an accusation had always been the prelude to an attack. Attila duly unleashed a massive army from the Balkans on Gaul in AD 451. Things looked bleak for the western empire. Geiseric controlled North Africa, and the only way that Valentinian III’s regime could support an army was if it retained the tenuous control of Gaul that Aetius had spent the previous decade building up. But Aetius was a skilled diplomat as well as a good soldier. Recognizing that domination by the Huns was to be avoided at all costs, he forged an alliance with the Visigoths of south-central France and other tribes in the region.