[30 BCE – 641 CE] Roman and Byzantine Rule

The year is 30 BCE. The last pharaoh of Egypt is gone. Not with the pomp of a gilded funeral barge sailing down the Nile, but in a stone mausoleum, the victim of a serpent’s bite and her own shattered ambition. Cleopatra, the brilliant, captivating final ruler of the Ptolemaic dynasty, is dead. And with her, an era stretching back three millennia has breathed its last. Roman legions, led by the cold and calculating Octavian, march through the streets of Alexandria. The age of pharaohs is over. The age of emperors has begun. Egypt was not just another conquered province for Rome. It was the crown jewel, a personal fiefdom of the emperor himself. So vital was its wealth that Roman senators were forbidden from even setting foot here without the emperor's express permission. Why? Grain. The fertile black soil flanking the Nile, nourished by its predictable annual flood, made Egypt the breadbasket of the ancient world. Each year, a colossal grain fleet—the *annona*—sailed from Alexandria, carrying enough wheat to feed the sprawling population of Rome for four months. This single fact dictated Egypt’s fate for the next 600 years. It was to be a land of immense wealth, but that wealth would be siphoned away to feed a distant master. For the vast majority of the population, life continued as it had for centuries, dictated by the rhythm of the river. In sun-baked mud-brick villages, the Egyptian farmer, the *fellah*, would guide his oxen and wooden plough, coaxing life from the soil. He’d use the ancient *shaduf*, a simple but effective counterweighted crane, to lift water from irrigation canals to his fields. But now, a new figure haunted his harvest: the Roman tax collector. A significant portion of his crop, often up to one-third, was no longer his. It belonged to Caesar. This relentless extraction of resources created a simmering, ever-present resentment beneath the surface of the *Pax Romana*, the famed Roman Peace. Society became a rigid, multi-layered pyramid. At the very top was the Roman Prefect, the emperor’s personal governor, wielding absolute power. Below him were the Roman officials and soldiers. Then came the privileged Greek-speaking elite who dominated the administration and commerce of the cities, particularly the magnificent metropolis of Alexandria. At the bottom was the vast majority: the native Egyptian, Coptic-speaking population. While Roman law brought a certain order, it also codified this inequality. Yet, this was not an age of simple oppression. Alexandria remained a dazzling hub of culture and intellect. Its Great Library, though having suffered fires and decline, was still a beacon of knowledge. In its bustling streets, you could hear the murmur of Greek, Latin, Coptic, and Hebrew. Philosophers debated in shaded porticoes, while merchants from as far as India haggled in the markets, the air thick with the scent of spices, papyrus, and the nearby sea. Culturally, a fascinating fusion occurred. The Romans, ever pragmatic, didn't stamp out Egyptian religion. Instead, they blended it with their own. The god Serapis, a hybrid of the Egyptian Osiris-Apis and Greek gods like Zeus and Hades, became wildly popular. In the Faiyum oasis, a unique art form flourished: mummy portraits. These were stunningly realistic portraits of the deceased, painted on wooden panels in the Roman style using encaustic wax, which were then wrapped into the traditional mummy bindings. Looking into the soulful, lifelike eyes of these portraits, you see the face of Roman Egypt—a person living in a Roman world but holding fast to an Egyptian afterlife. But a new force was stirring in this ancient land, a faith born in the neighbouring Roman province of Judea. Tradition holds that Christianity was brought to Alexandria by St. Mark the Evangelist around 42 CE. At first, it was just one of many mystery cults in the bustling city. But its message of salvation, equality in the eyes of God, and hope for the poor and downtrodden found fertile ground among the oppressed native Egyptians. To be a Christian was to adopt an identity separate from their Greek and Roman rulers. They were *Copts*, a word derived from the Greek for Egyptian, *Aigyptios*. This new faith terrified the Roman authorities. Christians refused to perform the token sacrifice to the Roman emperor, an act seen not just as impiety, but as treason. Persecution followed, sporadic at first, then horrifically systematic. The reign of Emperor Diocletian, beginning in 303 CE, unleashed the "Great Persecution." Churches were burned, scriptures destroyed, and believers were given a stark choice: sacrifice to the emperor or die. Many chose martyrdom. The Coptic Church still dates its calendar from the "Era of Martyrs," a testament to the profound trauma of this period. Believers were driven underground, finding refuge in the deserts that flanked the Nile. It was here that a new form of devotion was born: monasticism. Men like Saint Anthony the Great retreated into the solitude of the desert to wage spiritual warfare, their piety and discipline attracting thousands of followers and establishing a tradition that would shape Christianity for centuries to come. Then, the world turned upside down. In 313 CE, Emperor Constantine, having seen a vision of a cross before a decisive battle, legalized Christianity throughout the empire. The persecuted faith became the favored one. By 380 CE, it was the official state religion. Pagan temples were closed, their ancient rites forbidden. The Serapeum in Alexandria, one of the greatest temples of the pagan world, was destroyed by a Christian mob in 391 CE. The cross had replaced the ankh. The Roman Empire itself was changing. Its center of gravity shifted east to a new capital, Constantinople. Egypt was now part of what historians call the Byzantine Empire. It was still the breadbasket, still ruled from afar, but now the masters were Christian. This did not, however, bring peace. A new conflict erupted, this time within the Church itself. A fierce theological debate over the very nature of Christ—was he of two natures, divine and human, or one unified nature?—pitted the Coptic Church of Alexandria against the official doctrine of Constantinople. The Egyptians fiercely defended their "one nature" (Monophysite) belief, seeing it as core to their identity. The Byzantine emperors saw it as heresy. The chasm between the rulers and the ruled deepened, now poisoned by religious animosity. This internal weakness proved fatal. In 619 CE, the old enemy, Persia, swept across the Near East and conquered Egypt, holding it for a decade. The Byzantines, under Emperor Heraclius, eventually clawed it back, but they were exhausted, their authority shattered. They were governing a province that had come to despise them. So it was that in 639 CE, a new force appeared on the horizon. A small Arab army, perhaps only 4,000 strong, crossed the Sinai peninsula under the command of the general Amr ibn al-As. Fired by the new faith of Islam, they were disciplined and determined. The Coptic population, alienated from their Byzantine overlords by decades of religious persecution and heavy taxation, offered little resistance. To many, these new conquerors were simply a change of master, and perhaps a more tolerant one. By 641 CE, Alexandria, the great city of Alexander and Cleopatra, had fallen. The nearly seven-century-long chapter of Greco-Roman rule was over. The cross was replaced by the crescent, and Egypt’s story was about to take another dramatic turn.