Constantine’s rise to sole power began in the empire’s most marginal province, Britannia. It is here at a small church at Hinton St Mary in Dorset that the image of Christ appeared for the first time in an extant floor mosaic, which dates from the fourth century and is now in the British Museum (fig. 1). The attribution of the image seems certain, for it has an identifying symbol, the chi-rho: the entwined letters x (chi) and Δ (rho), the first two Greek letters of XΔτστoς, Christ. The figure is flanked by pomegranates, which were mythical symbols of death and resurrection. The British Museum’s collection of artefacts from Roman Britain also includes a remarkable array of fourth-century objects marked with the chi-rho. It features silver spoons from the Mildenhall silver hoard, silver church plate from Walter Newton, and wall paintings from Lullingstone, Kent. The chi-rho is frequently flanked by the letters alpha (A) and omega ( ), the first and the last of the Greek alphabet, alluding to a self-designation by both the godhead and Christ in the Book of Revelation (1.8; 22.13). The earliest securely dated inscription bearing the chi-rho, found under the floor of San Lorenzo in Rome, names the consuls of AD 323 and thus dates from the period of Constantine’s sole rule in the west. This was the divine sign Constantine came to believe he had seen in a vision, which a subsequent dream revealed was the guarantee of his victories. It was offered to him, he came to believe, by the god worshipped by Christians, whose number had grown ever larger during his lifetime.
Constantine was born in the city of Naissus, a military settlement sixty-five Roman miles south of the Danube frontier. In the same city and around the same time, Claudius II Gothicus, emperor from AD 268 to 270, died of a ‘direful pestilence’, probably smallpox, possibly measles. Constantine was no relation to Claudius Gothicus, as he would later claim. He was the son of a barmaid and a young army officer, Helena and Constantius. Helena, Constantine’s mother, would have witnessed the epidemic that claimed the emperor’s life. Perhaps she joined an exodus from the city, abandoning the sick and injured, while Christians stayed to nurse and nourish them, facing death with fortitude, secure in their belief in salvation. Perhaps she was among those who offered care, or became a Christian as a consequence. She was, as we shall see, the perfect candidate for Christian conversion: a young woman born into a provincial family of modest standing, approaching marriageable and child-bearing age.
The Christian writer Cyprian describes the effect of the plague, which raged most fiercely between 251 and 266, observing that:
the bowels, relaxed into a constant flux, discharge the bodily strength; that a fire originated in the marrow ferments into wounds of the fauces [the arched opening at the back of the mouth]; that the intestines are shaken with a continual vomiting; that the eyes are on fire with the injected blood; that in some cases the feet or some parts of the limbs are taken off by the contagion of diseased putrefaction; that from the weakness arising by the maiming and loss of the body, either the gait is enfeebled, or the hearing is obstructed, or the sight darkened.
And on the fortitude with which Christians faced the disease, he proclaimed:
What a grandeur of spirit it is to struggle with all the powers of an unshaken mind against so many onsets of devastation and death! What sublimity, to stand erect amid the desolation of the human race, and not to lie prostrate with those who have no hope in God; but rather to rejoice, and to embrace the benefit of the occasion; that in thus bravely showing forth our faith, and by suffering endured, going forward to Christ by the narrow way that Christ trod, we may receive the reward of His life and faith according to His own judgment!
Helena, Constantine’s mother, was born in around AD 250 in Drepanum, in Bithynia. Today this is the town of Yalova in Turkey, from which ferries sail regularly across the Sea of Marmara to Istanbul, the city founded by Constantine. Helena was likely a Christian before her son was born, and certainly converted before he did (contrary to later claims by Eusebius, whose task was to assign all credit to Constantine). Helena’s husband, Constantine’s father, was not a Christian, but he was tolerant of Christians, despite instructions from his superiors to act otherwise. Moreover, Constantine, as we shall see, was more than tolerant, acting in the interests of Christians even before his conversion. Their actions are what one would expect of the husband and son of a Christian woman.
There are no portraits of Helena in her youth. The earliest image may feature among those found in fragments at Trier, once decorating the ceiling of the bedroom of Constantine’s second wife, the child bride Fausta. By the time Helena appears on coins struck by her son, her image is stylized, a personification of virtue rather than a true portrait. Still, since Helena was not well educated, we might guess that she was beguiling in other ways, sufficient to inspire not just the lust but also the lasting affection of Constantius Chlorus. That is not to suggest that Constantius was born into a noble or wealthy family. He was, like so many men who rose to distinction at this time, a soldier from the Balkans who earned his stripes on the battlefield. Indeed, the efforts made some years later to prove Constantius’ descent from the emperor Claudius Gothicus demonstrate that Constantius’ origins were far from illustrious. Even when rewritten, the best lineage Constantius could conjure was descent from an emperor of equally humble and obscure background who had risen to power through the ranks of the army.
The life of Claudius Gothicus, preserved only in adapted form compiled a century after his death, the Historia Augusta, suggests that: ‘Claudius, Quintillus and Crispus were brothers, and Crispus had a daughter Claudia; of her and Eutropius, the noblest man of the Dardanian folk, was born Constantius.’ The Anonymus Valesianus, also known as the Origo Constantini (The Origins of Constantine), appears to corroborate this fiction: ‘Constantius, grandson of the brother of that best of emperors Claudius, was first one of the emperor’s bodyguards, then a tribune, and later governor of Dalmatia.’ But a different account is given by Eutropius and Zonaras, to whom we shall return, who identify Constantius as the son of Claudia’s daughter, and also by later panegyrical orations, where Constantine is portrayed as Claudius’ grandson, suggesting Constantius was Claudius’ son. Each version is equally false. We do not know his date or place of birth, nor the names and status of his parents.
Whatever his real lineage, Constantius Chlorus, Constantine’s father, became a man of great military distinction. His union, perhaps not legally a marriage, with Helena began shortly before Constantine’s birth. The exact nature of their relationship has been disputed, and speculation that Constantine was a bastard was hardly quashed during his reign, when he legislated against the interests of children born to unmarried parents. But there is no doubt that Constantius regarded Constantine as his true son and legal heir, and that his inheritance was growing rather rapidly. Sometime after his son’s birth, Constantius became governor of the province of Dalmatia, comprising the lands to the west of Naissus. At that time a provincial governor still supervised both military and civilian hierarchies, overseeing the levying of taxes and the actions of town councils, and maintaining the postal system and all necessary defences. In the generation after, a stricter division between military and civilian functions was introduced, which stripped ambitious soldiers of the means to raise revenue to fund a rebellion. Moreover, the number of provinces was doubled, diluting the power base of any individual governor and subordinating him to a regional ‘vicar’, who oversaw a group of provinces, a ‘diocese’. That the language of provincial government resembles that later employed of church organization is quite deliberate. The vicars were responsible to the emperor’s right-hand man, his administrator-in-chief and closest colleague, the Praetorian Prefect. This was the rank attained by Constantius in 289, when he commanded the whole of the western armies, as deputy to the emperor Maximian.
The empire was, at this time, ruled by two emperors, in the west and the east. Helena was no longer a suitable companion for Constantius, and a divorce was engineered so that he could marry Theodora, Maximian’s daughter, by whom he had six more children, three boys and three girls. Helena and her son were despatched to the court of the eastern emperor, Diocletian, at Nicomedia, rather near her birthplace. We hear nothing more of her until around 312, but we know more about Constantine, for in that period he became the son of an emperor, and then an emperor himself. However, one cannot begin a study, especially a life, in the middle. If we are to make any sense of Constantine’s reign, we must understand the world into which he was born at the end of the third century - a world where his mother, a Christian convert, and his father, a pagan soldier, both of humble birth, could marry and rise to rule the empire. This, then, is our first task. Only then can we turn in earnest to a narrative of Constantine’s life and achievements.
Exactly when and how Constantine became a Christian, and the nature of his Christianity, have always been subjects of debate. The Christian historians Lactantius and Eusebius wrote accounts of his conversion while Constantine still lived, and by the fifth century AD it was clear to Socrates Scholasticus and Sozomen that Constantine’s reign marked a watershed in the histories of Christianity and the Roman Empire, which henceforth were entwined. Between the two ages the triumph of Christianity and the need to tell its story obscured the truth. Yet certain facts are established as well as any in history. Constantine’s reason for embracing Christianity was the guarantee of victory accorded by worshipping the Christian god. Fighting under the symbols of this god, Constantine overcame great odds to seize power and defeat his imperial rivals. To concentrate this divine power on the field of battle, Constantine manufactured a new symbol, the labarum, a standard to lead his armies, which was topped with a chi-rho. Christianity, therefore, became the faith of the legions. Such a fact is remarkable when one considers the situation that prevailed before Constantine came to power.
This book demonstrates that Constantine’s conversion was not the reason for the rapid growth of Christianity in the fourth century AD. Its rise from minority cult to majority faith was driven by other factors, and Constantine’s life happened to coincide with that period when the growth curve went exponential. Drawing on the latest research, the book shows that women were the vectors for the rapid spread of Christianity before Constantine’s birth, and also during his lifetime. Constantine’s role, therefore, was to handle this explosion and to harness it to his own interests. He promoted a triumphalist brand of Christianity and sponsored an institutional Church that could propagate and sustain the religion. But in doing so, he did not compromise the faith with the novelty of justified violence. His was indeed a militant interpretation of the faith, but this did not represent a fall from a universal pacifist ethic, nor were Christians wholly absent from the army before Constantine. However, Constantine’s interest in Church affairs, and his promotion of the interests of bishops, altered the nature of the religion, privileging men and their interests. This made sense to those versed in the organization of Roman state religion and allowed the emperor to address his subjects through their bishops.
The book shows that Constantine’s conversion was not a momentary revelation inspired by a vision, but rather was a lifelong process. It also demonstrates that Constantinople, the city of Constantine, was not a new capital to replace Rome, nor was it an especially Christian construction. It was adorned with thousands of pagan statues gathered from across the empire, and its buildings attempted no architectural novelties. Constantine basked in the glory of the Roman past and was not a great innovator. His greatest desire, shared by so many Roman emperors before him, was to be remembered as a victor in battle, no longer merely a man but a demi-god, translated to the heavens or, in his case, heaven. In life Constantine was both unconquered emperor and Christian Victor, the latter the name he took as his own first name, his Christian name. After his death he was considered equal to the apostles, and statues of Jesus’ disciples surrounded his tomb. But he considered himself, at various times, a new Alexander, a new Moses, and even a new Christ.
Previous biographical studies of Constantine have focused on his conversion, drawing out its consequences and dwelling on the nature of his faith. Judgements have ranged widely, many shaped by theories first expounded in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. Edward Gibbon’s condemnation of Constantine’s Christianity, which he considered both genuine and destructive, is now read largely for its literary qualities. More provocative to historians has been Jakob Burckhardt’s contrary stance, founded on scepticism that the conversion was anything more than a cynical political ploy. The most impressive recent studies have staked out positions between these two stances, presenting compelling accounts of the interaction of faith and power in a new Christian Roman Empire. This book, addressing these same vital issues, sketches the broader contexts for the developments of Constantine’s reign, but places considerably more emphasis on the importance of the army. It considers the crisis of empire in the third century and the political and economic solutions of the Tetrarchy. It sketches the rise of Christianity and the relationship of its adherents and leaders to the Roman state and its ideology. But most importantly and originally, it presents an extended examination of the religious rites and beliefs that defined military life before and under Constantine. It assesses the army’s role in making and breaking emperors, and the ideological glue between religion and politics, faith and power: the Roman theology of victory. It demonstrates that Constantine was able to incorporate Christianity, which was not universally hostile to warfare as has often been argued, into this belief system, presenting the Christian god as ‘the greatest god’, the bringer of victory.
The Romans believed that the gods intervened in human affairs and rewarded the sworn vows of the virtuous and correct observation of religious rites. In war, victory was granted by the gods and appropriate thanks must be given in return. Since the victories of Scipio Africanus the Elder in 200 BC, leading generals had claimed relationships with particular gods or goddesses as bringers of victory. Scipio was granted a triumphus, a triumphal procession through the city of Rome, by the senate, which conferred this honour in recognition of his peculiar virtus et felicitas, ‘manly valour and good fortune’. Both qualities were seen as divinely conferred, and Scipio cultivated the idea by wearing the insignia of the greatest god, Jupiter Optimus Maximus, and depositing the fruits of victory in that god’s temple atop the Capitoline Hill. Thereafter, the Roman triumph ended with the dedication of spoils to the god who had granted that particular victory. Most frequently, these were Victoria, Jupiter’s handmaiden, and Mars, the god of war in his various forms. Thus when three eagle standards, lost to the Germans in the Teutoburg Forest in AD 9, were recovered, they were placed in the temple dedicated to Mars Ultor, ‘the Avenger’.
In the final years of the Republic Pompey and Julius Caesar both claimed a special relationship with Venus, but in different forms: Pompey with Venus Victrix, ‘bringer of Victory’, and Caesar with Venus Genetrix, ‘the mother’, as protectress of the Julian dynasty. However, following the establishment of the principate, only the emperor enjoyed divine patronage in war, his ‘manly valour and good fortune’ serving the interests of his subjects even when he never took the field. The rise of monotheisms in the later empire indicated a still closer relationship of patronage between the emperor and the single ‘greatest god’, the summus deus. Moreover, as the empire entered a period of crisis in the third century, emperors were once again generals, leading armies against ‘barbarians’ and Romans alike. Divine patronage was especially important in civil wars, where the commander who enjoyed a closer relationship with the greatest god would prevail, for he would become the vehicle for divine will and judgement.
This study demonstrates that Constantine’s rise to power and his early actions as emperor were defined by his relationship with his troops, and consequently by his relationship with the greatest god, who would guarantee his, and hence their, victories. Constantine’s only means of retaining power in his early years was to lead his men in numerous successful campaigns and to reward them handsomely for their efforts and loyalty. This he did, distributing wealth, including thousands of coins, to his officers and troops with inscriptions declaring their loyalty to him. The emphasis on loyalty, frequently pronounced and inscribed, suggests that in his first decade of power Constantine was never entirely secure. He came close to death by mutiny within four years of his accession, when his father-in-law and rival emperor Maximian persuaded many of his troops to turn against him. Ever more and greater victories were needed, and thus he was set on the path to civil war and sole sovereignty. For this reason he led a seemingly foolhardy invasion of Italy in 312, his sights set on the capture of Rome itself.
Sections of the book employ the terms that Constantine used to describe himself in his official imperial titles, which support this new vision. First Constantine was invictus, ‘unconquered’ and ‘unconquerable’, an epithet that also described his divine patron, the Sun god - Sol Invictus. Later, as his faith developed but also as political and military circumstances changed, the emperor’s devotion to the god of the Christians became more explicit, and he took the title ‘Victor’. These were military epithets, and this book presents a new narrative that restores the Roman army to its proper place as the driving force behind Constantine’s actions throughout his reign. Christianity to Constantine was the religion of victory. This was first demonstrated at Rome’s Milvian Bridge in 312, but only became apparent to Constantine later. The ultimate triumph of the self-consciously Christian ruler was, therefore, at Chrysopolis in 324, when to mark his victory he founded his own ‘Victory City’, a nikopolis that took his own name, Constantinople. Thereafter, Constantine’s active promotion and regulation of the faith was a means to ensure stability in his empire and the continued dominance of his family. But Constantine always sustained an iron grip over the army, which remained the chief instrument of his political will. The army embraced Constantine’s conversion because it was explained to them within the established Roman theology of victory: Constantine held himself to be, because he truly believed himself to be, the vehicle for that god’s will, as demonstrated on the field of battle. His reign is a case study in the interaction of faith and power.