Constantinople Deflated

The Debris of Empire

The Stary of Justinian’s empire after his death is an embarrassment to all who try, still, to praise him. Count no man happy, the old Greeks had said, until he has died; and one should count no emperor a success until one knows what becomes of his creations after he is gone. Justinian falls rapidly from his pedestal when we look at what he left behind.

THE POET CORIPPUS gives an account of the night Justinian died, which reads like a fragment of Soviet Kremlinology in the latter days, when Brezhnev gave way to Andropov, who yielded to Chernenko, each a more preposterous parody of Bolshevik loyalty than the one before. You can almost hear in Corippus’s lines the purring engines of big black limousines sliding through the streets around the palace as the word got out among the leading courtiers that the time had finally come. There were many choices, at that point, for emperor; but the deal was clearly done and the fix was in: Justin—Justin II in the history books—was the man.

Nephew of the emperor

Justin was in his mid-forties, a nephew of the emperor, married to a niece of Theodora’s: his relationships gave him a claim to power. He had a cousin, also named Justin, the son of a cousin of Justinian’s: Germanus, who had been moving into leading military commands in the late 540s until premature death removed him from the scene. This other Justin showed promise, often a strong disqualifier in imperial politics. Worse, he was away from court doing useful military service in the Balkans when Justinian’s end came, and thus was at a disadvantage in any competition requiring stealth and intrigue at court. The successful Justin had waited there in a discreet administrative role since 552 and had won the support of the church in the person of the patriarch, John Scholasticus—and of the military in the person of the count of the excubitors, Tiberius, a Balkan officer of real talent, as we shall see.

Justinian died in the palace he had scarcely left for years. Callinicus, the majordomo of the imperial residence (we might render his official title “provost of the sacred bedchamber”), claimed obligingly that Justinian had named his nephew to succeed him. The machinery of court spun into action. The excubitors blockaded the palace, the patriarch raised the crown on Justin’s head, and before anyone was the wiser, the new emperor was installed.