While the focus of preceding chapters has been on written sources, this chapter looks at the archaeologicy of cities as evidence for underlying ideas. The old model of the disintegration of a city of straight lines into tangled suqs is hard to reconcile with the evidence. New cities continue to be built through Late Antiquity, with the model set by Constantinople. Far from indicating the grid as the ideal, it is based on Rome itself, a notably non-gridded city. Despite contrasts of terrain, Constantinople competes with old Rome wherever possible. Justinian was responsible for a series of new cities, as Procopius claims, for which we have the advantage of good archaeological studies. If there is a model for these, it is Constantinople itself. Visigothic Reccopolis follows the same pattern. Exceptional among these new cities is the Umayyad foundation of ‘Anjar, outstanding as the most mathematical grid plan since antiquity; the model seems to be in Roman forts. Finally, Charlemagne’s Aachen is examined; though a palace rather than a city, contemporary court poets celebrate it as a New Rome.

Great changes have taken place in the approach of historians to the topic since the publication of East of Byzantium (1980). Instead of centre-periphery or top-down models they now see the relations between Byzantium and the east in terms of connectivity, networks and horizontal ties. This is connected with the spread of late antiquity as a concept and includes a great expansion in Syriac studies. Late antiquity now embraces the emergence of Islam and looks towards Eurasia; another challenge is posed by the rise of global history. But these developments, with the new focus on the fall of the western empire, raise major problems of identity for Byzantium itself, and indeed for western Europe.

Cities seem to form when state population surpasses 10,000. Over 5000 years, top city populations have remained 0.1−0.5% of world population. The square root law of city population: The largest city population tends to be hundred times the square root of state population. This law held from 3000 BCE to 1800 CE. Constantinople exemplifies it from 400 to 1800. It no longer holds, as the economic reach of major cities surpasses international borders.

Chapter 2 broadens the contextual setting of the miracle cycle by examining its role in the cultural production of the period, noting that its proliferation in visual art was not an isolated phenomenon. I locate the expanded imagery in its contemporary cultural milieu and literary production, looking especially at texts in the domains of historiography, hagiography, and poetry, by authors associated with the court, such as George Pachymeres, Nikephoros Gregoras, Theoktistos the Stoudite, Nikephoros Kallistos Xanthopoulos, and Manuel Philes. Literary commissions dealing with miracles are closely linked to the restoration and rededication of churches and monasteries and the reactivation of the healing powers of relics and shrines, demonstrating a new interest in, and emphasis on, the miraculous.

Chapter 1 sets the critical stage for the exponential increase of the iconography of Christ’s miracles by providing the contemporary sociopolitical, historical, and religious context. I focus specifically on the results of the shift from the Unionist policy of Andronikos II’s father, Michael VIII, to the empowerment of the Orthodox Church pursued by Andronikos himself. Miracles play an intriguing role in the theological debates and justifications for the reinstatement of Orthodoxy under Andronikos. The period of religious fervor and intellectual flourishing that the emperor enabled during his long reign formed the fertile environment in which the new miracle iconography could develop.

This chapter addresses the subject of sex in Constantinople in the sixth century CE, the heart of the Eastern Roman Empire. It draws on a range of rich evidence. A fundamental starting point is provided by the writings of the contemporary historian Procopius, in particular his comments in Secret History on the life and deeds of the empress Theodora, wife of the emperor Justinian I (527–565), who was an actress before marrying her husband. In addition it draws on the legislation of the emperor Justinian, the chronicle of John Malalas, erotic epigrams of the period, and Christian ascetic literature. From these writings strong ideals of right and wrong sexual behaviour emerge, revealing both traditional Roman values and the increasing Christianisation of society. This can create the impression that sexual activity was very tightly controlled, especially prostitution, extra-marital sex, and same-sex sex. However, it is apparent that life was less clear-cut. Justinian himself recognized that desire was a powerful impulse and that people did ‘sin’. It is also evident that people could enjoy thinking about illicit sex, and engage in it enthusiastically. Ironically, overtly Chistian texts could even incite the desire they sought to neutralize.

This chapter explores the displacement of knowledge following the First World War in two ways. First, it focuses on the displacement of people, specifically the Russian refugees displaced by the civil war in the early 1920s. It shows how thousands of intellectuals were combed out of the wider body of displaced people and relocated in sites across Europe and the wider world. Second, the chapter looks at how other forms of intellectual capital were displaced following post-war treaties and the redrawing of international borders, such as Hungarian institutions that found themselves ‘displaced’ in Czechoslovakia and Romania. Arguments about the displacement of knowledge demonstrated how individuals, institutions, and even modes of thinking were portrayed as synonymous with certain national identities in order to effect political change. The chapter explores the tension between the nationalization of knowledge and its simultaneous claims to universalism.

This chapter argues that the military and political history and prosopography of the early fifth century cannot be reconciled with the existence of the Notitia system. Specifically, the military challenges the east Roman empire faced during this period, most notably Alaric’s depredations in the Balkans, Gaïnas’ revolt in Asia Minor, and attempts to prop up the struggling western empire, all point to a systemic under-militarization in the east that forced Constantinople to rely heavily on barbarian manpower, often with calamitous results. By the 420s, we find evidence for a gradual remilitarization taking place in the east, which set the stage for the major reforms of the 440s.

This chapter demonstrates that all of the available evidence indicates that the Notitia system was rapidly put into place in the 440s, likely in response to the invasions of Attila the Hun on the Danubian border. Although designed to face down the threat of the Huns, the system continued to operate as the collapse of Attila’s kingdom put increasing pressure on the eastern empire, in particular in the form of Theoderic Strabo and Theoderic the Amal, two Gothic warlords who repeatedly ravaged the Balkans and assaulted Constantinople during this period. Placed in its proper context, many central features of the Notitia system become intelligible, in particular its strong Balkan focus and the function of the praesental armies, which were used as reserve forces.

The Roman emperor ruled one of the largest empires in world history. It consisted of different peoples living in wildly different contexts. They had different expectations of who the emperor was and how he should behave, although the range of those expectations was limited. Views of emperorship were locally dependent. The image of the emperor was not the same throughout the empire, and was often closely bound to his visibility in and his relationship with a specific region. How emperors were represented through statues, historical reliefs, triumphal arches, temples and other monuments, and through the ceremonies that surrounded emperorship, had an enormous impact on how the people who encountered these monuments or participated in these ceremonies perceived their emperors. As the number of monuments accumulated over time, they created an increasingly stable local ‘memoryscape’. Existing imagery influenced both the creation of new local images and the expectations of imperial behaviour.

The Sultanate drew upon concepts of martial skill, valor and aggression attributed to the Mongol Imperium and its unprecedented conquests. While idealizing these traits, Mamluk Sultans exploited them to thwart Mongol expansion into their territories. They welcomed renegades from Mongol armies (Wafidiyya) to mimic their prowess while limiting their aggression. Mamluk cadets were imported initially from the Qipjaq Steppe in Central Asia, subsequently from Circassia in the Caucasus, with numerous other regions represented. They were instructed in Arabic, Turkish and Islam prior to being trained in arms. The Mamluk military hierarchy consisted of elite Mamluks imported as cadets in the Sultan’s service, Mamluks of senior officers, soldiers of former rulers restive over their loss of status, and descendants of 1st-generation Mamluks who served as infantry and assimilated into Arabic civil society (awlad al-nas). Advancement through the military hierarchy was marked by endemic factional rivalry in which conspiracy was expected not repudiated. Whether conspiracy enhanced the Sultanate’s military prowess or destabilized its governance remains a debated issue.

The status of Rome vis-à-vis the Roman empire is analyzed. Fears that it might be replaced and the imperial capital would be transferred are reported from the first century BC onward. Foundation myths suggested that Rome originated in the East, in Troy, and it was suspected that the capital might move back to the East. These suspicions did not materialize for centuries but became reality under Constantine with the refoundation of Byzantium as Constantinople. The choice of Constantinople as (eastern) capital may not have been a matter of course from the start. Other cities seem to have been considered first, and it is not certain why it was chosen. Furthermore, there is no contemporary evidence that Constantine always conceived his new foundation as the eastern capital of the empire, or that he intended that it should replace Rome. Claims, made first by Christian authors, that Constantine’s city was conceived from the start as the new or second Rome and also as a purely Christian city cannot be confirmed. The city actually took time to develop into an imperial capital. The city became the undisputed centre of the late Roman empire only in the reign of Theodosius I.

The status of Rome vis-à-vis the Roman empire is analyzed. Fears that it might be replaced and the imperial capital would be transferred are reported from the first century BC onward. Foundation myths suggested that Rome originated in the East, in Troy, and it was suspected that the capital might move back to the East. These suspicions did not materialize for centuries but became reality under Constantine with the refoundation of Byzantium as Constantinople. The choice of Constantinople as (eastern) capital may not have been a matter of course from the start. Other cities seem to have been considered first, and it is not certain why it was chosen. Furthermore, there is no contemporary evidence that Constantine always conceived his new foundation as the eastern capital of the empire, or that he intended that it should replace Rome. Claims, made first by Christian authors, that Constantine’s city was conceived from the start as the new or second Rome and also as a purely Christian city cannot be confirmed. The city actually took time to develop into an imperial capital. The city became the undisputed centre of the late Roman empire only in the reign of Theodosius I.