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Hospitality and sympathy, but no help - the Byzantine Emperor learns a bitter lesson about western diplomacy.
Byzantium became the capital of the Roman Empire in 330, and was renamed Constantinople after the Emperor, Constantine. Its fall to the Ottoman Turks in 1453 was one of the great catastrophes of civilisation, yet England and the other powers of Europe stood and watched.
Eusebius remembers the banner that Emperor Constantine carried into battle on the day he won his crown.
It was at the Battle of the Milvian Bridge, on October 28th, 312, that Constantine — encouraged by the British legions — overcame his rival Maxentius and emerged as the sole ruler of the Roman Empire. In this passage, his friend and confidant Eusebius, Bishop of Caesarea, recalls what Constantine told him about his vision before the battle, and the banner that Christ told him to make.
The Nika Rebellion drew a rising Roman general against some rioting sports fans, and it was a tense game.
In a brilliant but turbulent career, Flavius Belisarius (?505-565) would recover North Africa from the Vandals and Rome from the Ostrogoths, and he would save Constantinople (the imperial capital) from the Huns. But before all this happened, he was involved in quite a different kind of campaign, the Nika Rebellion of 532, which began as a brawl amongst sports hooligans.
Emperor Julian cast off his Christian upbringing to gain the favour of Rome’s pagan gods, but in the heat of battle they deserted him.
Roman Emperor Flavius Claudius Iulianus (r. 361-363) earned his nickname ‘Julian the Apostate’ by trying to stamp out the Christian Church in which he had been brought up, while transferring its charitable activities to the State. He failed in both, and his military campaign in Persia was no more successful. Theodoret, Bishop of Cyrus, believed his death illustrated Julian’s weakness of mind and character.
The young Roman Emperor Theophilus backed away from marriage to the formidable Cassiani, but he could not forget her.
Cassiani was a nun of noble birth in the Roman Empire’s capital city, Constantinople, during the 9th century. Her gift for poetry and hymn-writing was widely admired, and the Eastern service-books are littered with her works. The most famous is a Hymn for Wednesday in Holy Week, and thereby hangs quite a tale.
By the early eighth century, sacred art was thriving in newly-Christian England, but in the East seeds of doubt and confusion had been sown.
Although we associate icons with Eastern Christianity, many churches in Britain prior to the Reformation, and especially in the Anglo-Saxon era before the Conquest of 1066, were wall-to-wall, floor-to-roof, a patchwork of frescoes of saints, Biblical scenes, flowers and animals. Indeed, it was in the East that doubts about sacred art first arose.
It started as an honest mistake, became a diplomatic standoff, and brought down an Empire.
In 680, English bishops gathered at Hatfield sent Pope Agatho a signed copy the Creed in which they declared their belief that the Holy Spirit proceeds from the Father ‘and the Son’. They would have been horrified to learn that this little phrase was not in the original. Unfortunately, some at Rome had invested so much of their credibility in it that they were prepared to go to any lengths to save face — even if it meant bringing down the Empire.