The History of Byzantium: Constantine to Justinian

The Byzantine Chronicles’ first original (i.e. fake) text comes to us from the pen of Isaac Comnenus, brother of Emperor Alexios I. Though the work is incomplete, obviously was to be part of a larger history. This section covered Constantine to Justinian.

The subject of the piece is the History of the Roman Empire, post the painful amputation of the Western chunk. Let’s see what Isaac has to say...

... We have had so many near misses and close run things that it is hard not to believe we will last until Jesus comes back here and asks what the fuck we have been doing to each other in his name for the past thousand years. We have survived everything history has in her limitless and imaginative artillery. Earthquakes? No worries. Seven-year sieges? I didn't want to leave town anyway: just found a new tavern that has excellent crab. Plague? Water off a duck's back. No wonder people think we are blessed and protected by the Virgin herself. When Mother Mary has your back, you know deity wise you are surfing with the very best.

On the other hand, you do have to wonder. Survival is one thing. But maybe the gods are actually not on our side at all. Throwing everything at us like that - as though we were a heretic being led around a forum - well, it could be that they are actually really determined to wipe us out and we just refuse to get the message. A stubborn stain that just won't get washed out. Like a constant reminder of a bad night out they had when they thought creationism and fortified wine would be a good idea.

But one day they could just throw out the shirt. Then we are screwed; the Virgin can cry foul all she wants. So I suppose some sort of outline of the glorious rise, rise, rise, fall, rise, fall, rise, collapse into a pathetic mess, rise and inevitable fall of the Roman Empire could be useful. Then you, dear reader, will have some inkling of what I am talking about when I refer to the city, the Romans, and all the nasty shit in between.

Let’s take it as read that you know about Constantine and his clever idea to move the capital of the entire world from a malarial swamp to one of the best mackerel feeding grounds known to fishermen. Constantinople was a stone cold genius as an idea. She was a natural beauty, all curves and very receptive. Not content that he now had a stunner on his arm, Constantine proceeded to dress her in all the finery of the empire. This had the bonus of giving him the excuse to pillage every pagan temple he could park a sledge next to.

So the story of Rome became the story of Constantinople. Rome got hit so hard by the Germans that it was propelled backwards by a good 800 years. It was as though you didn’t qualify as a barbarian overlord unless you sacked Rome at least once. It was sort of a grand scale hazing. Then the Latin heretics really got their teeth into it, so now we are stuck with the Bishop of Rome parping excommunications our way every couple of decades.

If you listen to the Romans, they will tell you that when Rome fell, that was it for the empire. It was toasted. Now, this defies logic. What I see is a continual, unbroken line from Augustus to my little brother Alexios. Same power, same tight little deal with a deity of your choice, same pomp, same ceremony. Different location, sure. But when did we stop being the Roman Empire? I have asked plenty of Latins that question and they have no answer. But then, they are ignorant bags of shit and probably think that questions of legitimacy just get in the way of smelling like nervous elephants and chopping unbelievers into mince.

So while the west tottered, got on its knees, and finally got clobbered for the last time, we carried on. The 600 years or so haven’t all been glorious. But we had our moments. Justinian, for example, did all right. His building projects were audacious and you have to admire the moxy of the fellow. His subjects hated him because of his aggressive tax collection policies, and I cannot even begin to understand why he would bother trying to take back the west. But his law codes were a triumph. He is the patron saint to all us pen-pushers, bogged down looking for precedent and obscure laws.

Lifestyles of the theologically querulous and infamous

The Byzantine Empire is the most romantic of all forgotten polities. The adjective Byzantine conjures images of luxury, extravagance and sophistication with just a dusting of ageless menace. It creaks in the background of our collective memories, like some too-old vampire, irrelevant in its significance.

Byzantium is so Romantic it is almost Gothic.

Let me count the ways...

Forbidding, almost inexplicable monuments? Check.

Emerging from a distant age? Check

Like us, and yet completely foreign? Yep

Fighting an impossible battle for survival. For sure.

But within the gilded frame that we set about this civilisation, people were people. They lived their lives, shat in buckets, haggled over fish, shaved their coins, argued about leavening the communion bread, built things, had babies, went to church, and died.

The blog you are reading is devoted to them, the Byzantines. Finding descriptions of the battles, or the controversies, or the lists of the emperors: not hard.

Here, we will be looking at the lives of the people: the rich, the poor, the in-between and the completely made up. The content will veer between intensively researched essays on the lives of the people and sloppily researched and anachronistic creative writing.

But if we can taste the retsina, or smell the incense, or hear the bells of the churches of Konstantinopolis; then we can all make believe that the Byzantine world is still out there: dynamic, vital and wondrous.