But did Rome fall? There are a few important misconceptions to deal with first before we can get to the status of the city itself. The idea that Rome collapsed in fire and blood seems to be an enduring narrative in the popular imagination, but it is far less clear that it is the case amongst academic historians. The empire weakened significantly in the fifth century, particularly with the fall of North Africa to the Vandals and the repeatedly failure of imperial expeditions to reconquer the region, but did it end with Roman liberties being trampled by barbarian soldiers? No, it did not. As Guy Halsall put it, Rome was not murdered, as it had instead ‘accidentally committed suicide’.^1 No-one, whether 'barbarian' or Roman, had actually wanted to bring the empire down – they instead sought to improve their own positions within imperial structures, which often meant defeating other people doing the exact same thing.

Over time, the western Roman empire was reduced to a shadow of its former self, being only in direct control of Italy, which contributed to Odoacer’s decision to submit himself to first an ex-emperor in Dalmatia and then the eastern emperor in Constantinople, rather than to maintain the charade through puppet emperors as other generals did before. The western empire was, by 476, an irrelevant body for many people, but the Roman empire itself was not. In the same year the empire ruled by Constantinople was coincidentally wracked by internal disorder too, but it would recover and retain its position as the preeminent power in the Christian world. 476 itself is a date worth thinking about, since it is now acknowledged that its importance in modern historiography was due to tensions in Constantinople in 518, the year in which the chronicler Marcellinus Comes first noted that the western empire had fallen in 476. At that point, the eastern empire was reconsidering the possibility of taking back from the west, so naturally Marcellinus, a man closely tied to the house of Justinian, wrote these dramatic words as a reflection of these ambitions; the west was really lost, and it was up to the 'real' Romans to take it back:

[In 476] With this Augustulus perished the Western empire of the Roman people, which the first Augustus, Octavian, began to rule in the seven hundred and ninth year from the foundation of the city.

Yet when we look at eastern Roman policies from the previous years, which even involved handing over the imperial regalia to 'barbarians' and the active recognition of the western kingdoms' legitimacy, it is not so clear (before Marcellinus) that the eastern Romans had thought the same. Perhaps 476, in the words of Brian Croke, was just 'a manufactured turning-point', one that has firmly entrenched itself in the public consciousness, but one with far less significance to the people at the time.^2 For a more accurate representation of the sixth century world, Andrew Louth’s chapter from the New Cambridge Medieval History sums it up quite well:

The beginning of the century saw Anastasius (491–518) on the imperial throne, ruling an empire that was still thought of as essentially the Roman Empire, coextensive with the world of the Mediterranean, however unrealistic such a view seems to modern historians, who have the benefit of hindsight. Although Anastasius ruled from Constantinople, ‘New Rome’, over what we call the ‘Eastern Empire’, the Western Empire having been carved up into the ‘barbarian kingdoms’, this perspective is ours, not theirs. Through the conferring of titles in the gift of the emperor, and the purchasing of alliances with the wealth of the Empire – wealth that was to dwarf the monetary resources of the West for centuries to come – the barbarian kings could be regarded as client kings, acknowledging the suzerainty of the emperor in New Rome, and indeed the barbarian kings were frequently happy to regard themselves in this light. The discontinuation of the series of emperors in the West, with the deposition of Romulus Augustulus in 476, was regarded by very few contemporaries as a significant event: the notion that East and West should each have its own emperor was barely of a century’s standing, and the reality of barbarian military power in the West, manipulated from Constantinople, continued, unaffected by the loss of an ‘emperor’ based in the West.^3

With this out of the way, what happened to Rome the city? The answer… not very much. We have very little evidence of what the new king of Italy, the former Roman general Odoacer, actually did. He seems to have treated the old Roman elite well and continued to mint coins in the name of the emperor, first Nepos, the ex-emperor hanging around Dalmatia, then Zeno, the emperor of the east. In 488, as part of an attempt to get rid of a troublesome general, Constantinople dispatched Theoderic, king of the Ostrogoths, to depose Odoacer and to secure Italy, both for himself and for the empire, for Theoderic would maintain the legally ambiguous position of Odoacer. Under Ostrogothic rule, we finally have some sources to work with concerning the Eternal City. Rome was still dominated by the senatorial aristocracy, a small class of rich and influential men with names that loudly proclaimed their long and illustrious heritage. Whilst administrative offices were generally held by ‘new men’ promoted by the Ostrogoths from outside this class, grander titles, such as the consulship (yes, this continued under the Ostrogoths and new consuls were still recognised by Constantinople!), were the senatorial families’ purview, a powerful reminder of the importance of the city of Rome even in a new world ruled by ‘barbarians’. Indeed, Rome continued to mint its own coins, of a type that did not explicitly proclaim loyalty to Theoderic (his coins always had the face and name of the emperor on them anyway); instead, the bronze coinage were inscribed with the words INVICTA ROMA (‘unconquered Rome’), as well as the imageries of the imperial eagle and the wolf that had fed Romulus and Remus, the founders of the city.^4

Were these things just delusions of the traditional elite, who did not realise that they now lived in the Dark Ages and needed to abandon their Roman past? Far from it. Theoderic’s rule was a very Roman one and he was politically astute enough to court the senators for their favour. They were a class that was the most capable of overthrowing the Ostrogothic kingdom, should they wish to, and it was through a combination of carrot and stick that the ‘barbarian’ king (who incidentally was once a consul of Constantinople) ruled his subjects. Cassiodorus, a praetorian prefect of Italy, provides us with several important insights in this regard, even if he had an obvious bias in favour of the Ostrogothic regime (though a new study has rightfully argued that his letters were also edited c.540s to appeal to Constantinople),^5 the events that Cassiodorus described were significant enough indicators of Rome’s place in this new kingdom. Two notices from his Chronicle are I think particularly illustrative:

In that year [500], our Lord King Theoderic, invited by the prayers of all at Rome, came there and, treating his Senate with marvellous affability, gave distributions of food to the ordinary Roman people. He contributed to admirable buildings by allotting a great quantity of money every year to them. And under his blessed rule many cities were renewed and heavily fortified castles were built. Admirable palaces arose and the ancient marvels were surpassed by his great works.

[The year of the consulships of] our lord Eutharic Cillica [Theoderic’s chosen heir], and Justin Augustus [emperor of Constantinople]. In this year [519] Rome saw many marvels, individual shows astonishing even Symmachus, the legate from the East, with the riches granted to Goths and Romans. He [Eutharic] granted honours in the Senate. He exhibited wild beasts of various kinds in the amphitheatres, at which the present age marvelled for their novelty. And for his spectacles, Africa in its devotion sent over the choicest of delights as well. And so, everywhere was filled with his high praise, and he was so firmly fixed in such a great love of the Roman citizens that when he returned to the sight of his glorious father at Ravenna, they still desired his presence. And there, repeating the shows, he showered such great gifts on Goths and Romans that he alone was able to surpass the consulship which he had celebrated at Rome.^6

Many people still say that Rome had fallen at this point, but a look at these sources surely can only suggest a more complex picture. There is indeed evidence of economic decline, but the disintegration of the Mediterranean trade network that fed growth was already collapsing decades before, so 476 was hardly a turning-point for this reason. Instead, the decline of the city’s population was part of a long-term trend, one exacerbated by war and turmoil yes, but one that was not nearly as devastating as the popular imagination portrays it. The ‘barbarians’ were… well, barbarians, not quite Romans despite their best efforts, but the concept of Romanness was a flexible one and we should not be too slavish to particular definitions. Instead, I think we should be more open to a more nuanced view of the past, in which Romanness, or aspects of it, could be celebrated by people we did not expect and could nevertheless be a part of their identity. Ostrogothic Italy is the perfect example. In hostile eyes, it was a world in which ‘the poor Roman imitates the Goth, while the wealthy Goth imitates the Roman’, but from its supporters’ perspectives, it was a world in which Roman martial virtues were inherited and strengthened by the Goths, whilst the old traditional elite ruled as they had always done.^7 Rome the city was in bad shape, but in the imagination of its contemporaries, had its glamour declined all that much?