Empire of God, page 12
Justinian, “disregarding all questions of expense, eagerly pressed on to begin the work of construction, and began to gather all the artisans from the whole world.”171 The expense was massive: Justinian spent 320,000 pounds of gold on Hagia Sophia and quickly saw the fruits of his investment. Working at truly astonishing speed, these craftsmen completed a new Hagia Sophia in only five years. The first Hagia Sophia took thirty-four years to build, and the second took eleven, but in only five years Justinian’s men produced a church that far outshone both in grandeur and magnificence. When he entered the church for the first time in 536, as it was nearing completion, he is said to have exclaimed, “Glory to God that I have been judged worthy of accomplishing such a work as this. O Solomon! I have outdone you!” for he believed that his new cathedral was even greater than the Temple of Solomon that had once stood in Jerusalem.172
The new Hagia Sophia, according to Procopius, “has become a spectacle of marvelous beauty, overwhelming to those who see it, but to those who know it by hearsay altogether incredible. For it soars to a height to match the sky, and as if surging up from among the other buildings it stands on high and looks down upon the remainder of the city, adorning it, because it is a part of it, but glorying in its own beauty, because, though a part of the city and dominating it, it at the same time towers above it to such a height that the whole city is viewed from there as from a watch-tower. Both its breadth and its length have been so carefully proportioned, that it may not improperly be said to be exceedingly long and at the same time unusually broad. And it exults in an indescribable beauty.”173
The most striking aspect of this glorious building was its massive dome, 180 feet high and one hundred feet in diameter, the largest anywhere in the world until St. Peter’s was built in the Vatican over a thousand years later.
Procopius observed that it was the “spherical-shaped dome” that made the new Great Church “exceptionally beautiful.”174 The dome gave the appearance of being held up in the way that the sky itself was held up: “From the lightness of the building,” Procopius said, “it does not appear to rest upon a solid foundation, but to cover the place beneath as though it were suspended from heaven by the fabled golden chain. All these parts surprisingly joined to one another in the air, suspended one from another, and resting only on that which is next to them, form the work into one admirably harmonious whole, which spectators do not dwell upon for long in the mass, as each individual part attracts the eye to itself.”175
Paul the Silentiary, a poet in Justinian’s court, was likewise taken with the splendor of the dome, “which, bending over, like the radiant heavens, embraces the church. And at the highest part, at the crown, was depicted the cross, the protector of the city. And wondrous it is to see how the dome gradually rises wide below, and growing less as it reaches higher. It does not, however, spring upwards to a sharp point, but is like the firmament which rests on air, though the dome is fixed on the strong backs of the arches.”176 Paul’s panegyric on the Great Church included this: “I say, renowned Roman Capitol, give way! My Emperor has so far overtopped that wonder as great God is superior to an idol!”177
Procopius even credits the magnificent dome to Justinian himself, who was no architect but possessed a keen native wit. “It was not with money alone that the Emperor built [Hagia Sophia],” the court historian asserts, “but also with labor of the mind and with the other powers of the soul.”178 As the builders were completing one of the arches, some of the props that were holding it up, “above which the structure was being built, unable to carry the mass which bore down upon them, somehow or other suddenly began to crack, and they seemed on the point of collapsing.”179 The appalled architects hurried to Justinian, who, “impelled by I know not what, but I suppose by God (for he is not himself a master-builder), commanded them to carry the curve of this arch to its final completion.”180 Justinian explained to his builders that “when it rests upon itself, it will no longer need the props (pessoi) beneath it.”181
Aware that his story of a non-architect who happens to be his imperial employer solving a problem that has baffled the greatest architects of the day sounds like the sort of thing a court historian would say, however fanciful it really was, Procopius adds: “And if this story were without witness, I am well aware that it would have seemed a piece of flattery and altogether incredible; but since there are available many witnesses of what then took place, we need not hesitate to proceed to the remainder of the story.”182 The architects did as Justinian had directed, and “the whole arch then hung secure, sealing by experiment the truth of his idea.”183
Whatever may have been the merits of Justinian’s untutored architectural acumen, John Malalas records that in 558, the dome of the Great Church “was being restored, for it had cracked in several places” as a result of an earthquake in Constantinople.184 The dome was rebuilt twenty feet higher than it had been before, and after that, for the most part, it has held to this day. Earthquakes have damaged the grand building several times since the time of Justinian, and it has been duly repaired, but it has survived for nearly fifteen hundred years now. The magnificent structure has survived through the age of iconoclasm, when its breathtaking iconography was summarily whitewashed; and through the crusaders sacking the city and converting it into a Latin church; through its conversion to a mosque by Mehmed the Conqueror; and through its conversion to a mosque yet again, after eighty-five years as a museum, by the modern-day pale copy of Mehmed, Recep Tayyip Erdogan.
* * *
157 John Malalas, The Chronicle, op. cit., 18.18. 253.
158 Ibid.
159 Ibid.
160 John Malalas, The Chronicle, op. cit., 18.24. 255-6.
161 Procopius, The Wars, H. B. Dewing, trans., (Harvard University Press, 1914-1928), I.5.8-10 https://penelope.uchicago.edu/Thayer/E/Roman/Texts/Procopius/Wars/5A*.html
162 Ibid., I.5.10.
163 Eusebius, Life of Constantine, op. cit., I.42.
164 Ibid., II.46.
165 Ibid., III.48.
166 Chronicon Paschale, op. cit. 35.
167 Ibid.
168 Ibid.
169 Procopius, Buildings, I.21, H. B. Dewing, trans. (Harvard University Press, 1940). https://penelope.uchicago.edu/Thayer/E/Roman/Texts/Procopius/Buildings/1A*.html. Language slightly modernized.
170 Ibid., I.22.
171 Ibid., I.23.
172 Philip Schaff, History of the Christian Church, Volume III: Nicene and Post-Nicene Christianity From Constantine the Great to Gregory the Great, fifth edition (Charles Scribner’s Sons), 1910, 107. https://www.ccel.org/ccel/schaff/hcc3.iii.xi.vi.html
173 Procopius, Buildings, op. cit., I.27-28.
174 Ibid., I.45.
175 Ibid., I.46.
176 Paul the Silentiary, “The Magnificence of Hagia Sophia,” in Lethaby and Swainson, The Church of St. Sophia Constantinople, op. cit., 42-52. https://sourcebooks.fordham.edu/source/paulsilent-hagsoph1.asp
177 Paul the Silentiary, Three Political Voices from the Age of Justinian, Peter Bell, trans. (Liverpool: Liverpool University Press, 2009). In Owen Jarus, “Hagia Sophia: Facts, History & Architecture,” LiveScience, March 1, 2013, https://www.livescience.com/27574-hagia-sophia.html#:~:text=The%20dome%20is%20108%20feet,capital%20of%20the%20Byzantine%20Empire.
178 Procopius, Buildings, op. cit., I.67.
179 Ibid., 1.69.
180 Ibid., I.71.
181 Ibid.
182 Ibid., I.72.
183 Ibid., I.73.
184 John Malalas, The Chronicle, op. cit., 18.128, 297.
Chapter Nine
Pandemic
The Plague Hits
Justinian’s ambitious program to restore the Roman Empire to its full glory hit an obstacle that no one had foreseen: the bubonic plague that would for centuries to come bedevil Europe and on several occasions decimate its population made its first appearance in the Mediterranean area. The deadly and highly contagious disease appeared to have traveled from Egypt and to arrive in Constantinople in the spring of 541. No one had any idea of either the cause of the pestilence nor of any cure. According to Procopius, “Some of the physicians…were at a loss because the symptoms were not understood,” but this could justifiably be said not just of some but of all of the physicians.185 The disease was bacterial, spread by rats and other animals, but no one understood that until much later. Procopius records the bafflement of the medical professionals of the day:
I am able to declare this, that the most illustrious physicians predicted that many would die, who unexpectedly escaped entirely from suffering shortly afterwards, and that they declared that many would be saved, who were destined to be carried off almost immediately. So it was that in this disease there was no cause which came within the province of human reasoning; for in all cases the issue tended to be something unaccountable. For example, while some were helped by bathing, others were harmed in no less degree. And of those who received no care many died, but others, contrary to reason, were saved. And again, methods of treatment showed different results with different patients. Indeed the whole matter may be stated thus, that no device was discovered by man to save himself, so that either by taking precautions he should not suffer, or that when the malady had assailed him he should get the better of it; but suffering came without warning and recovery was due to no external cause.186
The disease itself aroused both horror and introspection among the Romans. John Malalas enunciated a widespread view when he stated flatly that “the Lord God saw that man’s transgressions had multiplied and he caused the overthrow of man on the earth, leading to his destruction in all cities and lands.”187
If it was due to human transgression, it certainly did not confine itself to those whose transgressions were most numerous or notorious. Procopius observes that the plague was liable to hit anyone, such that glib theologizing in the manner of Job’s comforters was misplaced: “In the case of all other scourges sent from Heaven some explanation of a cause might be given by daring men, such as the many theories propounded by those who are clever in these matters; for they love to conjure up causes which are absolutely incomprehensible to man, and to fabricate outlandish theories of natural philosophy, knowing well that they are saying nothing sound, but considering it sufficient for them, if they completely deceive by their argument some of those whom they meet and persuade them to their view.”188 There was no possibility of such deception amid this plague’s devastation:
But for this calamity it is quite impossible either to express in words or to conceive in thought any explanation, except indeed to refer it to God. For it did not come in a part of the world nor upon certain men, nor did it confine itself to any season of the year, so that from such circumstances it might be possible to find subtle explanations of a cause, but it embraced the entire world, and blighted the lives of all men, though differing from one another in the most marked degree, respecting neither sex nor age. For much as men differ with regard to places in which they live, or in the law of their daily life, or in natural bent, or in active pursuits, or in whatever else man differs from man, in the case of this disease alone the difference availed naught. And it attacked some in the summer season, others in the winter, and still others at the other times of the year.189
Procopius states that “the whole human race came near to being annihilated,” and he was not exaggerating.190 He added that “the disease in Byzantium ran a course of four months, and its greatest virulence lasted about three. And at first the deaths were a little more than the normal, then the mortality rate rose still higher, and afterwards the tale of dead reached five thousand each day, and again it even came to ten thousand and still more than that.”191 According to Malalas, “The plague lasted awhile, so that there were not enough people to bury the dead. Some carried out the corpses from their own houses on wooden litters and even so they could not manage. Some of the corpses remained unburied for days. Some people did not attend their own relatives’ funerals.”192
Since no one knew how the plague had arisen or how it could be ended, there was little that Justinian could do. Procopius notes that he “detailed soldiers from the palace and distributed money,” appointing a certain Theodorus to oversee this effort.193 Theodorus, “by giving out the emperor’s money and by making further expenditures from his own purse, kept burying the bodies which were not cared for.”194 But there were so many corpses in this city that some remained unburied and were piled up in one area of Constantinople; “As a result of this an evil stench pervaded the city and distressed the inhabitants still more, and especially whenever the wind blew fresh from that quarter.”195
In his Secret History, in which Procopius paints a vastly different and far darker portrait of Justinian from the one he offers in his other writings, the court historian takes the emperor to task for ruthlessly collecting taxes even as the plague ravaged the empire:
The pestilence, which had attacked the inhabited world, did not spare the Roman Empire. Most of its farmers had perished of it, so that their lands were deserted; nevertheless Justinian did not exempt the owners of these properties. Their annual taxes were not remitted, and they had to pay not only their own, but their deceased neighbors’ share. And in addition to all of this, these land-poor wretches had to quarter the soldiers in their best rooms, while they themselves during this time existed in the meanest and poorest part of their dwellings.196
Insofar as this is accurate, and it must be taken with considerable reserve in light of the fact that Procopius also states in his secret book that Justinian was a vampire, a demon in human form who was seen walking with his head separated from his body, it may have been a matter of grim necessity more than rapaciousness and greed.197 The plague hit after the emperor had sunk massive amounts of money into wars both East and West, and into Hagia Sophia and other ambitious building projects. In the time of grim emergency that the plague created, he had to have funds for the relief efforts that Theodorus was overseeing.
There was, however, ultimately little that Justinian could do, and he knew it. There is no indication that he considered locking down the Roman people, forcing them indoors and grinding what was left of the economy to a halt in an effort to stymie the spread of the disease. Unlike today’s far more sophisticated and knowledgeable epidemiologists, Justinian seemed to understand a simple fact that has been largely forgotten, that it is virtually impossible to stop the spread of a bacterial or viral disease for which there is no known cure, and it is absolutely impossible to cut human beings off from interacting with one another. Fifteen days will not stop the spread; nor, ultimately, will masks or social distancing or closing offices.
Justinian also had enough humility to know and admit that there was no known cure. He was not rash or imprudent enough to trumpet a new and untested remedy as effective, only to have to begin moving the goalposts so that one dose of this cure wouldn’t be enough, but one would need two, or three, or four, plus boosters. He didn’t have the colossal hubris to require that the Roman people receive this untested remedy or be barred from essential services and even be at risk of losing their jobs, despite growing evidence that it had harmful side effects. The people of Constantinople, and of the Roman Empire in general, would have clamored for a cure and many were willing to try anything. Justinian, however, did not lend the weight of his imperial prestige to any quack remedies that only had one certain effect: the enrichment of those who manufactured them.
The Greatest Generation
The plague destroyed Justinian’s plans as it destroyed his people. The Lombards recaptured much of Italy soon after Justinian’s forces had conquered it, and the plague-stricken empire no longer had the resources to counter them. The reconquests ground to a halt, and the empire was once again vulnerable to its enemies to an extent that it had not been since before Justinian came on the scene.
The reign of Justinian was Byzantium’s finest hour. During his reign, the Roman Empire reached its largest extent ever after the fall of Rome in 476; after his death in 565, it would continue for another nine centuries but never again attain such heights. If the plague had not hit, it is entirely possible that Italy would have been definitively secured for the empire, which would have opened up the possibility of the restoration of Roman Gaul and even of Roman Britain. There would have been no justification for the Frankish king Charlemagne to claim the title of Holy Roman emperor, and the entire course of history, East and West, would have been changed. But history is itself made up of such detours and disasters as the plague represented for Justinian. He died in 565 knowing that he had done all he could to place the empire on a secure foundation, and that despite all his detractors (including his acid-tongued court historian) and amid extraordinary obstacles, he had indeed made the empire great again. Now it was up to those after him to make his achievements last.
Overextended
Justinian, like his immediate predecessors, had no son; just as he had succeeded his uncle, so his own nephew, Justin II, became the emperor of the Romans after his death. But the new monarch was nowhere near the level of his predecessor, and the plague had left the empire in an extremely vulnerable position. Justinian had extended the borders of his realm to a point that Justin, presiding over an empire of drastically diminished resources in the wake of the plague, could not defend.
