On August 24, 410 AD, a band of Visigoths entered Rome’s Salarian Gate.
Even before the other gates were taken and the whole horde came streaming into the city,
smoke began to rise above the manicured treetops of the emperor’s gardens, and the first
screams echoed in the canyon-like streets.
Rome, the imperial city, had fallen.
Although Rome was no longer the capital, it remained the empire’s symbolic heart.
No foreign invader had entered the city in eight centuries; and for many Romans, it was
almost inconceivable that it could be sacked by barbarians.
Saint Jerome, writing from his monastic cell in Bethlehem, summarized the general feeling:
“with one city, the whole world has died.”
By contrast, the event regarded by modern historians as the end of the Western Roman
Empire – the overthrow of Romulus Augustulus, the last western emperor, in 476 – seems
to have been virtually unnoticed by contemporaries.
This is partly a consequence of the scantiness of our sources, and partly an acknowledgement
that the Western Empire was little more than a political fiction by the time it fell.
More generally, it reflects the fact that the fall of the Western Roman Empire was a
process, not a moment; an era, not an event.
Only in retrospect did its significance and permanence become clear.
The fall of the Western Roman Empire – in the sense of an end to effective imperial
authority in a given region – was not always dramatic, or even especially noticeable.
Wars and invasions cost many Romans their property, their freedom, or their lives.
But for many others, the fall of the empire represented nothing more or less than the
gradual disappearance of familiar things, from Roman patrols on the roads to Roman pots
in the kitchen.
The familiar things faded swiftest in Britain, the first part of the western empire to slip
from imperial control.
Over the course of a few decades, under the pressure of Germanic raids and the struggles
of local warlords, the social structure of Roman Britain collapsed.
Cities and villas were abandoned, the production of trade goods ceased, and standards of living
sank to their lowest ebb in more than a millennium.
A British monk, writing a century later, described the period in apocalyptic terms: “as flames
roared and swords gleamed on every side, priests and people were hacked down together.”
A generation after the end of Roman rule in Britain, a Gallic bishop named Germanus visited
the former province to combat heresy.
He met priests and soldiers still attuned to developments in the empire.
But he also encountered a marauding band of Saxon raiders.
Fortunately, the good bishop was up to the challenge: appointing himself head of the
local militia, he sallied forth against the barbarians, and put them to flight – if
his biographer can be believed – with a war cry of “Alleluia!”
Although Britain’s post-Roman trauma was exceptional, most of the frontier provinces
were profoundly affected by the collapse of Roman authority.
Besides the fact that they were the first regions to be overrun by invaders, their economies
tended to be heavily dependent on their garrisons.
Once the imperial government stopped paying its troops, the whole provincial economy frayed.
Many frontier cities came to resemble the once-great legionary fortress of Naissus,
which a visitor in the mid-fifth century described as a gutted ruin, ringed by fields white with
bones.
The most vivid account of the end of Roman rule on the frontier appears in the Life of
Saint Severinus, a holy man who lived and worked in Noricum (modern Austria).
By the time Severinus arrived in the mid-fifth century, the provincial administration had
disintegrated, leaving each city to fend for itself.
The saint did what he could to help local authorities stave off disaster, arranging
counter-raids against bandits, advising Germanic kings, and – in one instance – ensuring
that food was supplied to the inhabitants of a hungry town.
Today, fortunately, you don’t need a saint to provide affordable meals.
With HelloFresh, you can have the ingredients for cheese-stuffed burgers, grilled salmon,
and dozens of other delicious, customizable dinners delivered right to your door, even
when you’re on vacation.
HelloFresh meals are simple to follow, and usually take 30 minutes or less to prepare.
I discovered this for myself when I made two HelloFresh recipes: white cheddar wonderburgers
with Old Bay fries and taqueria pork bowls with corn esquites and cilantro.
Although I’m very far from an expert chef, both recipes went off without a hitch, and
were big hits at a summer cookout.
So go to hellofresh.com and use the code TOLDINSTONE16 for 16 free meals across 7 boxes and 3 free
gifts!
Again, that’s 16 free meals and 3 gifts when you use TOLDINSTONE16 at hellofresh.com.
Back to Noricum, and the fall of Rome.
Although the border defenses were in ruins and the field armies long gone, a few garrisons
held out along the old frontier.
By Severinus’ time, only one of these garrisons was still in contact with the imperial government.
But since no official dared to enter Noricum, the garrison commander was forced to send
soldiers over the Alps to retrieve pay from Italy.
The last time this journey was attempted, the men were ambushed by barbarians.
Their bodies, washed up on the banks of a local river, were the only news the garrison
ever received of the disaster.
As the last imperial troops faded away, Germanic tribes moved in to fill the power vacuum.
Severinus did what he could to mediate between the invaders and the local inhabitants, convincing
one king to free all the Romans his warriors had taken captive.
But despite the saint’s efforts, raiders continued to sack cities and enslave their
inhabitants.
After Severinus died, the situation deteriorated to the point that all the remaining Romans
were evacuated from the province.
The end of imperial authority tended to be less dramatic in the heartlands of the Western
Empire.
This was especially true of southern Gaul, whose powerful aristocrats struggled against,
negotiated with, and finally served under the Germanic invaders with remarkable success.
The perspective and experiences of the Gallic aristocracy at the moment of transition from
Roman rule are epitomized by the letters of Sidonius Apollinaris.
After a distinguished political career at Rome, Sidonius became bishop of Clermont in
his native Gaul, and fought to keep his city within the swiftly-eroding empire.
But eventually, after a siege that reduced them to eating grass, the citizens of Clermont
opened their gates to the Goths.
In a letter to a friend, Sidonius – who had urged continued resistance – despaired:
“our ancestors,” he wrote, “will no longer glory in the name of Rome, if they
have no descendants.”
Sidonius praised those who fought the Goths, telling a man who had sallied out against
the invaders that he had “made Romans of [his] fellow-citizens.”
In the end, however, like most members of his class, he accepted the demise of the empire,
and resigned himself to the realities of living under the rule of the Goths, even commending
one of his younger correspondents for learning the German language, and combining “Burgundian
eloquence and a Roman spirit.”
Accommodation was also the strategy pursued by the great Roman magnates of Italy.
Thanks to their willingness to cooperate with the new Germanic ruling class, the Italian
elites preserved most of their wealth, lands, and prestige.
The Senate continued to meet in Rome, consuls continued to be chosen, and games were still
staged in the Colosseum and Circus Maximus, financed by the men from the same families
who had dominated politics in the last years of the Western Empire.
One such man was Anicius Manlius Severinus Boethius.
A scion of Rome’s most distinguished clans, Boethius rose to literary distinction as a
young man, composing learned treatises on a wide range of philosophical and theological
subjects.
He also achieved political success, becoming consul.
Then, at the height of his power, he was falsely accused of treachery and thrown into prison.
As he awaited judgement and execution, Boethius composed The Consolation of Philosophy, a
dialogue exploring the nature of happiness and free will in brilliant prose interspersed
with a series of poems.
The final lines of one poem neatly summarize the experience of those who lived through
the fall of the Western Roman Empire: This law no earthly thing transcends: All that
has a beginning, ends If you enjoyed this video, please consider
supporting toldinstone on Patreon.
You might also enjoy my book, Naked Statues, Fat Gladiators, and War Elephants.
Thanks for watching.