unpaid army became disorganised and weak. Without money to maintain an effective force and provision the posts, the badly defended frontier gave way under the assault of the barbarians, and, to get rid of them, recourse was had to a ruinous diplomacy, which did not even protect the Empire against invasions. Without money the attempted administrative reform had to be abandoned, and the vices of an openly corrupt administration to be condoned. Without money the government was driven to strange expedients, often most unsuitable to its economic as to its financial policy. To meet expenses the burden of taxation was increased until it became almost intolerable; and as time passed, and the disproportion between the colossal aims of the imperial ambition and the condition of the financial resources of the monarchy became greater, the difficulty of overcoming the deficit led to even harsher measures. "The State," wrote Justinian in 552, "greatly enlarged by the divine mercy and led by this increase to make war on her barbaric neighbours, has never been in greater need of money than to-day." Justinian exercised all his ingenuity to find this money at any sacrifice, but in spite of real economies — amongst others the suppression of the consulship (541) — by which he tried to restore some proportion to the Empire’s budget, the Emperor could never decide to curtail his luxury, or his building operations, while the money which had been collected with such difficulty was too often squandered to please favourites or upon whims. Therefore a terrible financial tyranny was established in the provinces, which effected the ruin of the West already overwhelmed by war, of the Balkan peninsula ravaged by barbarians, and of Asia fleeced by Chosroes. The time came when it was impossible to drag anything from these exhausted countries, and seeing the general misery, the growing discontent and the suspicions which increased every day, contemporaries asked, with a terrified stupor, "whither the wealth of Rome had vanished." Thus the end of the reign was strangely sad.
The death of Theodora (June 548), while it deprived the Emperor of a vigorous and faithful counsellor, dealt Justinian a blow from which he never recovered. Henceforth, as his age increased — he was 65 then — the defects of his character only became more prominent. His irresolution was more noticeable, while his theological mania was inflamed. He disregarded military matters, finding the direction of the wars which he had so dearly loved tiresome and useless; he cared more for the exercise of a diplomacy, often pitifully inadequate, than for the prestige of arms. Above all, he carried on everything with an ever-increasing carelessness. Leaving the trouble of finding money at any cost to his ministers, to Peter Barsymes the successor of John of Cappadocia, and to the quaestor Constantine, the successor of Tribonian, he gave himself up to religious quarrels, passing his nights in disputations with his bishops. As Corippus, a man not noted for severity towards princes, wrote "The old man no longer cared for anything; his spirit was in heaven."
