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History Of The Decline And Fall Of The Roman Empire Volume
1
by Edward Gibbon, Esq. With notes by the Rev. H. H. Milman
April, 1997 [Etext # 890]
The Project Gutenberg Etext of History Of The Decline And Fall
Of The Roman Empire Volume 1
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This is the first volume of the six volumes of Edward Gibbon's
History Of The Decline And Fall Of The Roman Empire. If you find
any errors please feel free to notify me of them. I want to make
this the best etext edition possible for both scholars and the
general public. I would like to thank those who have helped in
making this text better. Especially Dale R. Fredrickson who has
hand entered the Greek characters in the footnotes and who has
suggested retaining the conjoined ae character in the text.
Haradda@aol.com and davidr@inconnect.com are my email addresses
for now. Please feel free to send me your comments and I hope you
enjoy this.
David Reed
History Of The Decline And Fall Of The
Roman Empire
Edward Gibbon, Esq.
With notes by the Rev. H. H. Milman
Vol. 1
1782 (Written), 1845 (Revised)
Introduction
Preface By The Editor.
The great work of Gibbon is indispensable to the student of
history. The literature of Europe offers no substitute for "The
Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire." It has obtained undisputed
possession, as rightful occupant, of the vast period which it
comprehends. However some subjects, which it embraces, may have
undergone more complete investigation, on the general view of the
whole period, this history is the sole undisputed authority to
which all defer, and from which few appeal to the original
writers, or to more modern compilers. The inherent interest of
the subject, the inexhaustible labor employed upon it; the
immense condensation of matter; the luminous arrangement; the
general accuracy; the style, which, however monotonous from its
uniform stateliness, and sometimes wearisome from its elaborate
art., is throughout vigorous, animated, often picturesque always
commands attention, always conveys its meaning with emphatic
energy, describes with singular breadth and fidelity, and
generalizes with unrivalled felicity of expression; all these
high qualifications have secured, and seem likely to secure, its
permanent place in historic literature.
This vast design of Gibbon, the magnificent whole into which
he has cast the decay and ruin of the ancient civilization, the
formation and birth of the new order of things, will of itself,
independent of the laborious execution of his immense plan,
render "The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire" an
unapproachable subject to the future historian:* in the eloquent
language of his recent French editor, M. Guizot: --
"The gradual decline of the most extraordinary dominion which
has ever invaded and oppressed the world; the fall of that
immense empire, erected on the ruins of so many kingdoms,
republics, and states both barbarous and civilized; and forming
in its turn, by its dismemberment, a multitude of states,
republics, and kingdoms; the annihilation of the religion of
Greece and Rome; the birth and the progress of the two new
religions which have shared the most beautiful regions of the
earth; the decrepitude of the ancient world, the spectacle of its
expiring glory and degenerate manners; the infancy of the modern
world, the picture of its first progress, of the new direction
given to the mind and character of man -- such a subject must
necessarily fix the attention and excite the interest of men, who
cannot behold with indifference those memorable epochs, during
which, in the fine language of Corneille --
'Un grand destin commence, un grand destin
s'achève.'"
This extent and harmony of design is unquestionably that which
distinguishes the work of Gibbon from all other great historical
compositions. He has first bridged the abyss between ancient and
modern times, and connected together the two great worlds of
history. The great advantage which the classical historians
possess over those of modern times is in unity of plan, of course
greatly facilitated by the narrower sphere to which their
researches were confined. Except Herodotus, the great historians
of Greece -- we exclude the more modern compilers, like Diodorus
Siculus -- limited themselves to a single period, or at least to
the contracted sphere of Grecian affairs. As far as the
Barbarians trespassed within the
Grecian boundary, or were necessarily mingled up with Grecian
politics, they were admitted into the pale of Grecian history;
but to Thucydides and to Xenophon, excepting in the Persian
inroad of the latter, Greece was the world. Natural unity
confined their narrative almost to chronological order, the
episodes were of rare occurrence and extremely brief. To the
Roman historians the course was equally clear and defined. Rome
was their centre of unity; and the uniformity with which the
circle of the Roman dominion spread around, the regularity with
which their civil polity expanded, forced, as it were, upon the
Roman historian that plan which Polybius announces as the subject
of his history, the means and the manner by which the whole world
became subject to the Roman sway. How different the complicated
politics of the European kingdoms! Every national history, to be
complete, must, in a certain sense, be the history of Europe;
there is no knowing to how remote a quarter it may be necessary
to trace our most domestic events; from a country, how apparently
disconnected, may originate the impulse which gives its direction
to the whole course of affairs.
In imitation of his classical models, Gibbon places
Rome as the cardinal point from which
his inquiries diverge, and to which they bear constant reference;
yet how immeasurable the space over which those inquiries range;
how complicated, how confused, how apparently inextricable the
causes which tend to the decline of the Roman empire! how
countless the nations which swarm forth, in mingling and
indistinct hordes, constantly changing the geographical limits --
incessantly confounding the natural boundaries! At first sight,
the whole period, the whole state of the world, seems to offer no
more secure footing to an historical adventurer than the chaos of
Milton -- to be in a state of irreclaimable disorder, best
described in the language of the poet: --
"A dark
Illimitable ocean, without bound,
Without dimension, where length, breadth, and height,
And time, and place, are lost: where eldest Night
And Chaos, ancestors of Nature, hold
Eternal anarchy, amidst the noise
Of endless wars, and by confusion stand."
We feel that the unity and harmony of narrative, which shall
comprehend this period of social disorganization, must be
ascribed entirely to the skill and luminous disposition of the
historian. It is in this sublime Gothic architecture of his work,
in which the boundless range, the infinite variety, the, at first
sight, incongruous gorgeousness of the separate parts,
nevertheless are all subordinate to one main and predominant
idea, that Gibbon is unrivalled. We cannot but admire the manner
in which he masses his materials, and arranges his facts in
successive groups, not according to chronological order, but to
their moral or political connection; the distinctness with which
he marks his periods of gradually increasing decay; and the skill
with which, though advancing on separate parallels of history, he
shows the common tendency of the slower or more rapid religious
or civil innovations. However these principles of composition may
demand more than ordinary attention on the part of the reader,
they can alone impress upon the memory the real course, and the
relative importance of the events. Whoever would justly
appreciate the superiority of Gibbon's lucid arrangement, should
attempt to make his way through the regular but wearisome annals
of Tillemont, or even the less ponderous volumes of Le Beau. Both
these writers adhere, almost entirely, to chronological order;
the consequence is, that we are twenty times called upon to break
off, and resume the thread of six or eight wars in different
parts of the empire; to suspend the operations of a military
expedition for a court intrigue; to hurry away from a siege to a
council; and the same page places us in the middle of a campaign
against the barbarians, and in the depths of the Monophysite
controversy. In Gibbon it is not always easy to bear in mind the
exact dates but the course of events is ever clear and distinct;
like a skilful general, though his troops advance from the most
remote and opposite quarters, they are constantly bearing down
and concentrating themselves on one point -- that which is still
occupied by the name, and by the waning power of Rome. Whether he
traces the progress of hostile religions, or leads from the
shores of the Baltic, or the verge of the Chinese empire, the
successive hosts of barbarians -- though one wave has hardly
burst and discharged itself, before another swells up and
approaches -- all is made to flow in the same direction, and the
impression which each makes upon the tottering fabric of the
Roman greatness, connects their distant movements, and measures
the relative importance assigned to them in the panoramic
history. The more peaceful and didactic episodes on the
development of the Roman law, or even on the details of
ecclesiastical history, interpose themselves as resting-places or
divisions between the periods of barbaric invasion. In short,
though distracted first by the two capitals, and afterwards by
the formal partition of the empire, the extraordinary felicity of
arrangement maintains an order and a regular progression. As our
horizon expands to reveal to us the gathering tempests which are
forming far beyond the boundaries of the civilized world -- as we
follow their successive approach to the trembling frontier -- the
compressed and receding line is still distinctly visible; though
gradually dismembered and the broken fragments assuming the form
of regular states and kingdoms, the real relation of those
kingdoms to the empire is maintained and defined; and even when
the Roman dominion has shrunk into little more than the province
of Thrace -- when the name of Rome, confined, in Italy, to the
walls of the city -- yet it is still the memory, the shade of the
Roman greatness, which extends over the wide sphere into which
the historian expands his later narrative; the whole blends into
the unity, and is manifestly essential to the double catastrophe
of his tragic drama.
But the amplitude, the magnificence, or the harmony of design,
are, though imposing, yet unworthy claims on our admiration,
unless the details are filled up with correctness and accuracy.
No writer has been more severely tried on this point than Gibbon.
He has undergone the triple scrutiny of theological zeal
quickened by just resentment, of literary emulation, and of that
mean and invidious vanity which delights in detecting errors in
writers of established fame. On the result of the trial, we may
be permitted to summon competent witnesses before we deliver our
own judgment.
M. Guizot, in his preface, after stating that in France and
Germany, as well as in England, in the most enlightened countries
of Europe, Gibbon is constantly cited as an authority, thus
proceeds: --
"I have had occasion, during my labors, to consult the
writings of philosophers, who have treated on the finances of the
Roman empire; of scholars, who have investigated the chronology;
of theologians, who have searched the depths of ecclesiastical
history; of writers on law, who have studied with care the Roman
jurisprudence; of Orientalists, who have occupied themselves with
the Arabians and the Koran; of modern historians, who have
entered upon extensive researches touching the crusades and their
influence; each of these writers has remarked and pointed out, in
the 'History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire,' some
negligences, some false or imperfect views some omissions, which
it is impossible not to suppose voluntary; they have rectified
some facts combated with advantage some assertions; but in
general they have taken the researches and the ideas of Gibbon,
as points of departure, or as proofs of the researches or of the
new opinions which they have advanced."
M. Guizot goes on to state his own impressions on reading
Gibbon's history, and no authority will have greater weight with
those to whom the extent and accuracy of his historical
researches are known: --
"After a first rapid perusal, which allowed me to feel nothing
but the interest of a narrative, always animated, and,
notwithstanding its extent and the variety of objects which it
makes to pass before the view, always perspicuous, I entered upon
a minute examination of the details of which it was composed; and
the opinion which I then formed was, I confess, singularly
severe. I discovered, in certain chapters, errors which appeared
to me sufficiently important and numerous to make me believe that
they had been written with extreme negligence; in others, I was
struck with a certain tinge of partiality and prejudice, which
imparted to the exposition of the facts that want of truth and
justice, which the English express by their happy term
misrepresentation. Some imperfect
(tronquées) quotations; some
passages, omitted unintentionally or designedly cast a suspicion
on the honesty (bonne foi) of the
author; and his violation of the first law of history --
increased to my eye by the prolonged attention with which I
occupied myself with every phrase, every note, every reflection
-- caused me to form upon the whole work, a judgment far too
rigorous. After having finished my labors, I allowed some time to
elapse before I reviewed the whole. A second attentive and
regular perusal of the entire work, of the notes of the author,
and of those which I had thought it right to subjoin, showed me
how much I had exaggerated the importance of the reproaches which
Gibbon really deserved; I was struck with the same errors, the
same partiality on certain subjects; but I had been far from
doing adequate justice to the immensity of his researches, the
variety of his knowledge, and above all, to that truly
philosophical discrimination (justesse
d'esprit) which judges the past as it would judge
the present; which does not permit itself to be blinded by the
clouds which time gathers around the dead, and which prevent us
from seeing that, under the toga, as under the modern dress, in
the senate as in our councils, men were what they still are, and
that events took place eighteen centuries ago, as they take place
in our days. I then felt that his book, in spite of its faults,
will always be a noble work -- and that we may correct his errors
and combat his prejudices, without ceasing to admit that few men
have combined, if we are not to say in so high a degree, at least
in a manner so complete, and so well regulated, the necessary
qualifications for a writer of history."
The present editor has followed the track of Gibbon through
many parts of his work; he has read his authorities with constant
reference to his pages, and must pronounce his deliberate
judgment, in terms of the highest admiration as to his general
accuracy. Many of his seeming errors are almost inevitable from
the close condensation of his matter. From the immense range of
his history, it was sometimes necessary to compress into a single
sentence, a whole vague and diffuse page of a Byzantine
chronicler. Perhaps something of importance may have thus
escaped, and his expressions may not quite contain the whole
substance of the passage from which they are taken. His limits,
at times, compel him to sketch; where that is the case, it is not
fair to expect the full details of the finished picture. At times
he can only deal with important results; and in his account of a
war, it sometimes requires great attention to discover that the
events which seem to be comprehended in a single campaign, occupy
several years. But this admirable skill in selecting and giving
prominence to the points which are of real weight and importance
-- this distribution of light and shade -- though perhaps it may
occasionally betray him into vague and imperfect statements, is
one of the highest excellencies of Gibbon's historic manner. It
is the more striking, when we pass from the works of his chief
authorities, where, after laboring through long, minute, and
wearisome descriptions of the accessary and subordinate
circumstances, a single unmarked and undistinguished sentence,
which we may overlook from the inattention of fatigue, contains
the great moral and political result.
Gibbon's method of arrangement, though on the whole most
favorable to the clear comprehension of the events, leads
likewise to apparent inaccuracy. That which we expect to find in
one part is reserved for another. The estimate which we are to
form, depends on the accurate balance of statements in remote
parts of the work; and we have sometimes to correct and modify
opinions, formed from one chapter by those of another. Yet, on
the other hand, it is astonishing how rarely we detect
contradiction; the mind of the author has already harmonized the
whole result to truth and probability; the general impression is
almost invariably the same. The quotations of Gibbon have
likewise been called in question; -- I have, in
general, been more inclined to admire their
exactitude, than to complain of their indistinctness, or
incompleteness. Where they are imperfect, it is commonly from the
study of brevity, and rather from the desire of compressing the
substance of his notes into pointed and emphatic sentences, than
from dishonesty, or uncandid suppression of truth.
These observations apply more particularly to the accuracy and
fidelity of the historian as to his facts; his inferences, of
course, are more liable to exception. It is almost impossible to
trace the line between unfairness and unfaithfulness; between
intentional misrepresentation and undesigned false coloring. The
relative magnitude and importance of events must, in some
respect, depend upon the mind before which they are presented;
the estimate of character, on the habits and feelings of the
reader. Christians, like M. Guizot and ourselves, will see some
things, and some persons, in a different light from the historian
of the Decline and Fall. We may deplore the bias of his mind; we
may ourselves be on our guard against the danger of being misled,
and be anxious to warn less wary readers against the same perils;
but we must not confound this secret and unconscious departure
from truth, with the deliberate violation of that veracity which
is the only title of an historian to our confidence. Gibbon, it
may be fearlessly asserted, is rarely chargeable even with the
suppression of any material fact, which bears upon individual
character; he may, with apparently invidious hostility, enhance
the errors and crimes, and disparage the virtues of certain
persons; yet, in general, he leaves us the materials for forming
a fairer judgment; and if he is not exempt from his own
prejudices, perhaps we might write
passions, yet it must be candidly
acknowledged, that his philosophical bigotry is not more unjust
than the theological partialities of those ecclesiastical writers
who were before in undisputed possession of this province of
history.
We are thus naturally led to that great misrepresentation
which pervades his history -- his false estimate of the nature
and influence of Christianity.
But on this subject some preliminary caution is necessary,
lest that should be expected from a new edition, which it is
impossible that it should completely accomplish. We must first be
prepared with the only sound preservative against the false
impression likely to be produced by the perusal of Gibbon; and we
must see clearly the real cause of that false impression. The
former of these cautions will be briefly suggested in its proper
place, but it may be as well to state it, here, somewhat more at
length. The art of Gibbon, or at least the unfair impression
produced by his two memorable chapters, consists in his
confounding together, in one indistinguishable mass, the
origin and
apostolic propagation of the new
religion, with its later progress. No
argument for the divine authority of Christianity has been urged
with greater force, or traced with higher eloquence, than that
deduced from its primary development, explicable on no other
hypothesis than a heavenly origin, and from its rapid extension
through great part of the Roman empire. But this argument -- one,
when confined within reasonable limits, of unanswerable force --
becomes more feeble and disputable in proportion as it recedes
from the birthplace, as it were, of the religion. The further
Christianity advanced, the more causes purely human were enlisted
in its favor; nor can it be doubted that those developed with
such artful exclusiveness by Gibbon did concur most essentially
to its establishment. It is in the Christian dispensation, as in
the material world. In both it is as the great First Cause, that
the Deity is most undeniably manifest. When once launched in
regular motion upon the bosom of space, and endowed with all
their properties and relations of weight and mutual attraction,
the heavenly bodies appear to pursue their courses according to
secondary laws, which account for all their sublime regularity.
So Christianity proclaims its Divine Author chiefly in its first
origin and development. When it had once received its impulse
from above -- when it had once been infused into the minds of its
first teachers -- when it had gained full possession of the
reason and affections of the favored few -- it might
be -- and to the Protestant, the rational
Christian, it is impossible to define
when it really
was-- left to make its way by its
native force, under the ordinary secret agencies of all-ruling
Providence. The main question, the divine origin of
the religion, was dexterously eluded, or speciously
conceded by Gibbon; his plan enabled him to commence his account,
in most parts, below the apostolic
times; and it was only by the strength of the dark
coloring with which he brought out the failings and the follies
of the succeeding ages, that a shadow of doubt and suspicion was
thrown back upon the primitive period of Christianity.
"The theologian," says Gibbon, "may indulge the pleasing task
of describing religion as she descended from heaven, arrayed in
her native purity; a more melancholy duty is imposed upon the
historian: -- he must discover the inevitable mixture of error
and corruption which she contracted in a long residence upon
earth among a weak and degenerate race of beings." Divest this
passage of the latent sarcasm betrayed by the subsequent tone of
the whole disquisition, and it might commence a Christian history
written in the most Christian spirit of candor. But as the
historian, by seeming to respect, yet by dexterously confounding
the limits of the sacred land, contrived to insinuate that it was
an Utopia which had no existence but in the imagination of the
theologian -- as he suggested rather
than affirmed that the days of Christian purity were a kind of
poetic golden age; -- so the theologian, by venturing too far
into the domain of the historian, has been perpetually obliged to
contest points on which he had little chance of victory -- to
deny facts established on unshaken evidence -- and thence, to
retire, if not with the shame of defeat, yet with but doubtful
and imperfect success.
Paley, with his intuitive sagacity, saw through the difficulty
of answering Gibbon by the ordinary arts of controversy; his
emphatic sentence, "Who can refute a sneer?" contains as much
truth as point. But full and pregnant as this phrase is, it is
not quite the whole truth; it is the tone in which the progress
of Christianity is traced, in
comparison with the rest of the
splendid and prodigally ornamented work, which is the radical
defect in the "Decline and Fall." Christianity alone receives no
embellishment from the magic of Gibbon's language; his
imagination is dead to its moral dignity; it is kept down by a
general zone of jealous disparagement, or neutralized by a
painfully elaborate exposition of its darker and degenerate
periods. There are occasions, indeed, when its pure and exalted
humanity, when its manifestly beneficial influence, can compel
even him, as it were, to fairness, and kindle his unguarded
eloquence to its usual fervor; but, in general, he soon relapses
into a frigid apathy; affects an
ostentatiously severe impartiality; notes all the faults of
Christians in every age with bitter and almost malignant sarcasm;
reluctantly, and with exception and reservation, admits their
claim to admiration. This inextricable bias appears even to
influence his manner of composition. While all the other
assailants of the Roman empire, whether warlike or religious, the
Goth, the Hun, the Arab, the Tartar, Alaric and Attila, Mahomet,
and Zengis, and Tamerlane, are each introduced upon the scene
almost with dramatic animation -- their progress related in a
full, complete, and unbroken narrative -- the triumph of
Christianity alone takes the form of a cold and critical
disquisition. The successes of barbarous energy and brute force
call forth all the consummate skill of composition; while the
moral triumphs of Christian benevolence -- the tranquil heroism
of endurance, the blameless purity, the contempt of guilty fame
and of honors destructive to the human race, which, had they
assumed the proud name of philosophy, would have been blazoned in
his brightest words, because they own religion as their principle
-- sink into narrow asceticism. The
glories of Christianity, in short,
touch on no chord in the heart of the writer; his imagination
remains unkindled; his words, though they maintain their stately
and measured march, have become cool, argumentative, and
inanimate. Who would obscure one hue of that gorgeous coloring in
which Gibbon has invested the dying forms of Paganism, or darken
one paragraph in his splendid view of the rise and progress of
Mahometanism? But who would not have wished that the same equal
justice had been done to Christianity; that its real character
and deeply penetrating influence had been traced with the same
philosophical sagacity, and represented with more sober, as would
become its quiet course, and perhaps less picturesque, but still
with lively and attractive, descriptiveness? He might have thrown
aside, with the same scorn, the mass of ecclesiastical fiction
which envelops the early history of the church, stripped off the
legendary romance, and brought out the facts in their primitive
nakedness and simplicity -- if he had but allowed those facts the
benefit of the glowing eloquence which he denied to them alone.
He might have annihilated the whole fabric of post-apostolic
miracles, if he had left uninjured by sarcastic insinuation those
of the New Testament; he might have cashiered, with Dodwell, the
whole host of martyrs, which owe their existence to the prodigal
invention of later days, had he but bestowed fair room, and dwelt
with his ordinary energy on the sufferings of the genuine
witnesses to the truth of Christianity, the Polycarps, or the
martyrs of Vienne.
And indeed, if, after all, the view of the early progress of
Christianity be melancholy and humiliating we must beware lest we
charge the whole of this on the infidelity of the historian. It
is idle, it is disingenuous, to deny or to dissemble the early
depravations of Christianity, its gradual but rapid departure
from its primitive simplicity and purity, still more, from its
spirit of universal love. It may be no unsalutary lesson to the
Christian world, that this silent, this unavoidable, perhaps, yet
fatal change shall have been drawn by an impartial, or even an
hostile hand. The Christianity of every age may take warning,
lest by its own narrow views, its want of wisdom, and its want of
charity, it give the same advantage to the future unfriendly
historian, and disparage the cause of true religion.
The design of the present edition is partly corrective, partly
supplementary: corrective, by notes, which point out (it is
hoped, in a perfectly candid and dispassionate spirit with no
desire but to establish the truth) such inaccuracies or
misstatements as may have been detected, particularly with regard
to Christianity; and which thus, with the previous caution, may
counteract to a considerable extent the unfair and unfavorable
impression created against rational religion: supplementary, by
adding such additional information as the editor's reading may
have been able to furnish, from original documents or books, not
accessible at the time when Gibbon wrote.
The work originated in the editor's habit of noting on the
margin of his copy of Gibbon references to such authors as had
discovered errors, or thrown new light on the subjects treated by
Gibbon. These had grown to some extent, and seemed to him likely
to be of use to others. The annotations of M. Guizot also
appeared to him worthy of being better known to the English
public than they were likely to be, as appended to the French
translation.
The chief works from which the editor has derived his
materials are, I. The French translation, with notes by M.
Guizot; 2d edition, Paris, 1828. The editor has translated almost
all the notes of M. Guizot. Where he has not altogether agreed
with him, his respect for the learning and judgment of that
writer has, in general, induced him to retain the statement from
which he has ventured to differ, with the grounds on which he
formed his own opinion. In the notes on Christianity, he has
retained all those of M. Guizot, with his own, from the
conviction, that on such a subject, to many, the authority of a
French statesman, a Protestant, and a rational and sincere
Christian, would appear more independent and unbiassed, and
therefore be more commanding, than that of an English
clergyman.
The editor has not scrupled to transfer the notes of M. Guizot
to the present work. The well-known zeal for knowledge, displayed
in all the writings of that distinguished historian, has led to
the natural inference, that he would not be displeased at the
attempt to make them of use to the English readers of Gibbon. The
notes of M. Guizot are signed with the letter G.
II. The German translation, with the notes of Wenck.
Unfortunately this learned translator died, after having
completed only the first volume; the rest of the work was
executed by a very inferior hand.
The notes of Wenck are extremely valuable; many of them have
been adopted by M. Guizot; they are distinguished by the letter
W.*
III. The new edition of Le Beau's "Histoire du Bas Empire,
with notes by M. St. Martin, and M. Brosset." That distinguished
Armenian scholar, M. St. Martin (now, unhappily, deceased) had
added much information from Oriental writers, particularly from
those of Armenia, as well as from more general sources. Many of
his observations have been found as applicable to the work of
Gibbon as to that of Le Beau.
IV. The editor has consulted the various answers made to
Gibbon on the first appearance of his work; he must confess, with
little profit. They were, in general, hastily compiled by
inferior and now forgotten writers, with the exception of Bishop
Watson, whose able apology is rather a general argument, than an
examination of misstatements. The name of Milner stands higher
with a certain class of readers, but will not carry much weight
with the severe investigator of history.
V. Some few classical works and fragments have come to light,
since the appearance of Gibbon's History, and have been noticed
in their respective places; and much use has been made, in the
latter volumes particularly, of the increase to our stores of
Oriental literature. The editor cannot, indeed, pretend to have
followed his author, in these gleanings, over the whole vast
field of his inquiries; he may have overlooked or may not have
been able to command some works, which might have thrown still
further light on these subjects; but he trusts that what he has
adduced will be of use to the student of historic truth.
The editor would further observe, that with regard to some
other objectionable passages, which do not involve misstatement
or inaccuracy, he has intentionally abstained from directing
particular attention towards them by any special protest.
The editor's notes are marked M.
A considerable part of the quotations (some of which in the
later editions had fallen into great confusion) have been
verified, and have been corrected by the latest and best editions
of the authors.
June, 1845.
In this new edition, the text and the notes have been
carefully revised, the latter by the editor.
Some additional notes have been subjoined, distinguished by
the signature M. 1845.
Preface Of The Author.
It is not my intention to detain the reader by expatiating on
the variety or the importance of the subject, which I have
undertaken to treat; since the merit of the choice would serve to
render the weakness of the execution still more apparent, and
still less excusable. But as I have presumed to lay before the
public a first volume only of the History of the Decline and Fall
of the Roman Empire, it will, perhaps, be expected that I should
explain, in a few words, the nature and limits of my general
plan.
The memorable series of revolutions, which in the course of
about thirteen centuries gradually undermined, and at length
destroyed, the solid fabric of human greatness, may, with some
propriety, be divided into the three following periods:
I. The first of these periods may be traced from the age of
Trajan and the Antonines, when the Roman monarchy, having
attained its full strength and maturity, began to verge towards
its decline; and will extend to the subversion of the Western
Empire, by the barbarians of Germany and Scythia, the rude
ancestors of the most polished nations of modern Europe. This
extraordinary revolution, which subjected Rome to the power of a
Gothic conqueror, was completed about the beginning of the sixth
century.
II. The second period of the Decline and Fall of Rome may be
supposed to commence with the reign of Justinian, who, by his
laws, as well as by his victories, restored a transient splendor
to the Eastern Empire. It will comprehend the invasion of Italy
by the Lombards; the conquest of the Asiatic and African
provinces by the Arabs, who embraced the religion of Mahomet; the
revolt of the Roman people against the feeble princes of
Constantinople; and the elevation of Charlemagne, who, in the
year eight hundred, established the second, or German Empire of
the West
III. The last and longest of these periods includes about six
centuries and a half; from the revival of the Western Empire,
till the taking of Constantinople by the Turks, and the
extinction of a degenerate race of princes, who continued to
assume the titles of Cæsar and Augustus, after their
dominions were contracted to the limits of a single city; in
which the language, as well as manners, of the ancient Romans,
had been long since forgotten. The writer who should undertake to
relate the events of this period, would find himself obliged to
enter into the general history of the Crusades, as far as they
contributed to the ruin of the Greek Empire; and he would
scarcely be able to restrain his curiosity from making some
inquiry into the state of the city of Rome, during the darkness
and confusion of the middle ages.
As I have ventured, perhaps too hastily, to commit to the
press a work which in every sense of the word, deserves the
epithet of imperfect. I consider myself as contracting an
engagement to finish, most probably in a second volume, the first
of these memorable periods; and to deliver to the Public the
complete History of the Decline and Fall of Rome, from the age of
the Antonines to the subversion of the Western Empire. With
regard to the subsequent periods, though I may entertain some
hopes, I dare not presume to give any assurances. The execution
of the extensive plan which I have described, would connect the
ancient and modern history of the world; but it would require
many years of health, of leisure, and of perseverance.
Bentinck Street, February 1, 1776.
P. S. The entire History, which is now published, of the
Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire in the West, abundantly
discharges my engagements with the Public. Perhaps their
favorable opinion may encourage me to prosecute a work, which,
however laborious it may seem, is the most agreeable occupation
of my leisure hours.
Bentinck Street, March
1, 1781.
An Author easily persuades himself that the public opinion is
still favorable to his labors; and I have now embraced the
serious resolution of proceeding to the last period of my
original design, and of the Roman Empire, the taking of
Constantinople by the Turks, in the year one thousand four
hundred and fifty-three. The most patient Reader, who computes
that three ponderous volumes have been already employed on the
events of four centuries, may, perhaps, be alarmed at the long
prospect of nine hundred years. But it is not my intention to
expatiate with the same minuteness on the whole series of the
Byzantine history. At our entrance into this period, the reign of
Justinian, and the conquests of the Mahometans, will deserve and
detain our attention, and the last age of Constantinople (the
Crusades and the Turks) is connected with the revolutions of
Modern Europe. From the seventh to the eleventh century, the
obscure interval will be supplied by a concise narrative of such
facts as may still appear either interesting or important.
Bentinck Street, March 1, 1782.
Preface To The First Volume.
Diligence and accuracy are the only merits which an historical
writer may ascribe to himself; if any merit, indeed, can be
assumed from the performance of an indispensable duty. I may
therefore be allowed to say, that I have carefully examined all
the original materials that could illustrate the subject which I
had undertaken to treat. Should I ever complete the extensive
design which has been sketched out in the Preface, I might
perhaps conclude it with a critical account of the authors
consulted during the progress of the whole work; and however such
an attempt might incur the censure of ostentation, I am persuaded
that it would be susceptible of entertainment, as well as
information.
At present I shall content myself with a single observation.
The biographers, who, under the reigns of Diocletian and
Constantine, composed, or rather compiled, the lives of the
Emperors, from Hadrian to the sons of Carus, are usually
mentioned under the names of Ælius Spartianus, Julius
Capitolinus, Ælius Lampridius, Vulcatius Gallicanus,
Trebellius Pollio and Flavius Vopiscus. But there is so much
perplexity in the titles of the MSS., and so many disputes have
arisen among the critics (see Fabricius, Biblioth. Latin. l. iii.
c. 6) concerning their number, their names, and their respective
property, that for the most part I have quoted them without
distinction, under the general and well-known title of the
Augustan History.
Preface To The Fourth Volume Of The Original
Quarto Edition.
I now discharge my promise, and complete my design, of writing
the History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, both in
the West and the East. The whole period extends from the age of
Trajan and the Antonines, to the taking of Constantinople by
Mahomet the Second; and includes a review of the Crusades, and
the state of Rome during the middle ages. Since the publication
of the first volume, twelve years have elapsed; twelve years,
according to my wish, "of health, of leisure, and of
perseverance." I may now congratulate my deliverance from a long
and laborious service, and my satisfaction will be pure and
perfect, if the public favor should be extended to the conclusion
of my work.
It was my first intention to have collected, under one view,
the numerous authors, of every age and language, from whom I have
derived the materials of this history; and I am still convinced
that the apparent ostentation would be more than compensated by
real use. If I have renounced this idea, if I have declined an
undertaking which had obtained the approbation of a
master-artist, * my excuse may be found in the extreme difficulty
of assigning a proper measure to such a catalogue. A naked list
of names and editions would not be satisfactory either to myself
or my readers: the characters of the principal Authors of the
Roman and Byzantine History have been occasionally connected with
the events which they describe; a more copious and critical
inquiry might indeed deserve, but it would demand, an elaborate
volume, which might swell by degrees into a general library of
historical writers. For the present, I shall content myself with
renewing my serious protestation, that I have always endeavored
to draw from the fountain-head; that my curiosity, as well as a
sense of duty, has always urged me to study the originals; and
that, if they have sometimes eluded my search, I have carefully
marked the secondary evidence, on whose faith a passage or a fact
were reduced to depend.
I shall soon revisit the banks of the Lake of Lausanne, a
country which I have known and loved from my early youth. Under a
mild government, amidst a beauteous landscape, in a life of
leisure and independence, and among a people of easy and elegant
manners, I have enjoyed, and may again hope to enjoy, the varied
pleasures of retirement and society. But I shall ever glory in
the name and character of an Englishman: I am proud of my birth
in a free and enlightened country; and the approbation of that
country is the best and most honorable reward of my labors. Were
I ambitious of any other Patron than the Public, I would inscribe
this work to a Statesman, who, in a long, a stormy, and at length
an unfortunate administration, had many political opponents,
almost without a personal enemy; who has retained, in his fall
from power, many faithful and disinterested friends; and who,
under the pressure of severe infirmity, enjoys the lively vigor
of his mind, and the felicity of his incomparable temper. Lord
North will permit me to express the feelings of friendship in the
language of truth: but even truth and friendship should be
silent, if he still dispensed the favors of the crown.
In a remote solitude, vanity may still whisper in my ear, that
my readers, perhaps, may inquire whether, in the conclusion of
the present work, I am now taking an everlasting farewell. They
shall hear all that I know myself, and all that I could reveal to
the most intimate friend. The motives of action or silence are
now equally balanced; nor can I pronounce, in my most secret
thoughts, on which side the scale will preponderate. I cannot
dissemble that six quartos must have tried, and may have
exhausted, the indulgence of the Public; that, in the repetition
of similar attempts, a successful Author has much more to lose
than he can hope to gain; that I am now descending into the vale
of years; and that the most respectable of my countrymen, the men
whom I aspire to imitate, have resigned the pen of history about
the same period of their lives. Yet I consider that the annals of
ancient and modern times may afford many rich and interesting
subjects; that I am still possessed of health and leisure; that
by the practice of writing, some skill and facility must be
acquired; and that, in the ardent pursuit of truth and knowledge,
I am not conscious of decay. To an active mind, indolence is more
painful than labor; and the first months of my liberty will be
occupied and amused in the excursions of curiosity and taste. By
such temptations, I have been sometimes seduced from the rigid
duty even of a pleasing and voluntary task: but my time will now
be my own; and in the use or abuse of independence, I shall no
longer fear my own reproaches or those of my friends. I am fairly
entitled to a year of jubilee: next summer and the following
winter will rapidly pass away; and experience only can determine
whether I shall still prefer the freedom and variety of study to
the design and composition of a regular work, which animates,
while it confines, the daily application of the Author. Caprice
and accident may influence my choice; but the dexterity of
self-love will contrive to applaud either active industry or
philosophic repose.
Downing Street, May 1, 1788.
P. S. I shall embrace this opportunity of introducing two
verbal remarks, which have not conveniently offered
themselves to my notice. 1. As often as I use the definitions of
beyond the Alps, the Rhine, the Danube, &c., I
generally suppose myself at Rome, and afterwards at
Constantinople; without observing whether this relative geography
may agree with the local, but variable, situation of the reader,
or the historian. 2. In proper names of foreign, and especially
of Oriental origin, it should be always our aim to express, in
our English version, a faithful copy of the original. But this
rule, which is founded on a just regard to uniformity and truth,
must often be relaxed; and the exceptions will be limited or
enlarged by the custom of the language and the taste of the
interpreter. Our alphabets may be often defective; a harsh sound,
an uncouth spelling, might offend the ear or the eye of our
countrymen; and some words, notoriously corrupt, are fixed, and,
as it were, naturalized in the vulgar tongue. The prophet
Mohammed can no longer be stripped of the famous, though
improper, appellation of Mahomet: the well-known cities of
Aleppo, Damascus, and Cairo, would almost be lost in the strange
descriptions of Haleb, Demashk, and Al
Cahira: the titles and offices of the Ottoman empire are
fashioned by the practice of three hundred years; and we are
pleased to blend the three Chinese monosyllables,
Con-fû-tzee, in the respectable name of Confucius,
or even to adopt the Portuguese corruption of Mandarin. But I
would vary the use of Zoroaster and Zerdusht, as I drew
my information from Greece or Persia: since our connection with
India, the genuine Timour is restored to the throne of
Tamerlane: our most correct writers have retrenched the
Al, the superfluous article, from the Koran; and we
escape an ambiguous termination, by adopting Moslem
instead of Musulman, in the plural number. In these, and in a
thousand examples, the shades of distinction are often minute;
and I can feel, where I cannot explain, the motives of my
choice.
Chapter I: The Extent Of The Empire In The Age Of The
Antoninies.
Part I.
Introduction -- The Extent And Military Force Of The Empire In
The Age Of The Antonines.
In the second century of the Christian Æra, the empire
of Rome comprehended the fairest part of the earth, and the most
civilized portion of mankind. The frontiers of that extensive
monarchy were guarded by ancient renown and disciplined valor.
The gentle but powerful influence of laws and manners had
gradually cemented the union of the provinces. Their peaceful
inhabitants enjoyed and abused the advantages of wealth and
luxury. The image of a free constitution was preserved with
decent reverence: the Roman senate appeared to possess the
sovereign authority, and devolved on the emperors all the
executive powers of government. During a happy period of more
than fourscore years, the public administration was conducted by
the virtue and abilities of Nerva, Trajan, Hadrian, and the two
Antonines. It is the design of this, and of the two succeeding
chapters, to describe the prosperous condition of their empire;
and after wards, from the death of Marcus Antoninus, to deduce
the most important circumstances of its decline and fall; a
revolution which will ever be remembered, and is still felt by
the nations of the earth.
The principal conquests of the Romans were achieved under the
republic; and the emperors, for the most part, were satisfied
with preserving those dominions which had been acquired by the
policy of the senate, the active emulations of the consuls, and
the martial enthusiasm of the people. The seven first centuries
were filled with a rapid succession of triumphs; but it was
reserved for Augustus to relinquish the ambitious design of
subduing the whole earth, and to introduce a spirit of moderation
into the public councils. Inclined to peace by his temper and
situation, it was easy for him to discover that Rome, in her
present exalted situation, had much less to hope than to fear
from the chance of arms; and that, in the prosecution of remote
wars, the undertaking became every day more difficult, the event
more doubtful, and the possession more precarious, and less
beneficial. The experience of Augustus added weight to these
salutary reflections, and effectually convinced him that, by the
prudent vigor of his counsels, it would be easy to secure every
concession which the safety or the dignity of Rome might require
from the most formidable barbarians. Instead of exposing his
person and his legions to the arrows of the Parthians, he
obtained, by an honorable treaty, the restitution of the
standards and prisoners which had been taken in the defeat of
Crassus.
His generals, in the early part of his reign, attempted the
reduction of Ethiopia and Arabia Felix. They marched near a
thousand miles to the south of the tropic; but the heat of the
climate soon repelled the invaders, and protected the un-warlike
natives of those sequestered regions. The northern countries of
Europe scarcely deserved the expense and labor of conquest. The
forests and morasses of Germany were filled with a hardy race of
barbarians, who despised life when it was separated from freedom;
and though, on the first attack, they seemed to yield to the
weight of the Roman power, they soon, by a signal act of despair,
regained their independence, and reminded Augustus of the
vicissitude of fortune. On the death of that emperor, his
testament was publicly read in the senate. He bequeathed, as a
valuable legacy to his successors, the advice of confining the
empire within those limits which nature seemed to have placed as
its permanent bulwarks and boundaries: on the west, the Atlantic
Ocean; the Rhine and Danube on the north; the Euphrates on the
east; and towards the south, the sandy deserts of Arabia and
Africa.
Happily for the repose of mankind, the moderate system
recommended by the wisdom of Augustus, was adopted by the fears
and vices of his immediate successors. Engaged in the pursuit of
pleasure, or in the exercise of tyranny, the first Cæsars
seldom showed themselves to the armies, or to the provinces; nor
were they disposed to suffer, that those triumphs which
their indolence neglected, should be usurped by the
conduct and valor of their lieutenants. The military fame of a
subject was considered as an insolent invasion of the Imperial
prerogative; and it became the duty, as well as interest, of
every Roman general, to guard the frontiers intrusted to his
care, without aspiring to conquests which might have proved no
less fatal to himself than to the vanquished barbarians.
The only accession which the Roman empire received, during the
first century of the Christian Æra, was the province of
Britain. In this single instance, the successors of Cæsar
and Augustus were persuaded to follow the example of the former,
rather than the precept of the latter. The proximity of its
situation to the coast of Gaul seemed to invite their arms; the
pleasing though doubtful intelligence of a pearl fishery,
attracted their avarice; and as Britain was viewed in the light
of a distinct and insulated world, the conquest scarcely formed
any exception to the general system of continental measures.
After a war of about forty years, undertaken by the most stupid,
maintained by the most dissolute, and terminated by the most
timid of all the emperors, the far greater part of the island
submitted to the Roman yoke. The various tribes of Britain
possessed valor without conduct, and the love of freedom without
the spirit of union. They took up arms with savage fierceness;
they laid them down, or turned them against each other, with wild
inconsistency; and while they fought singly, they were
successively subdued. Neither the fortitude of Caractacus, nor
the despair of Boadicea, nor the fanaticism of the Druids, could
avert the slavery of their country, or resist the steady progress
of the Imperial generals, who maintained the national glory, when
the throne was disgraced by the weakest, or the most vicious of
mankind. At the very time when Domitian, confined to his palace,
felt the terrors which he inspired, his legions, under the
command of the virtuous Agricola, defeated the collected force of
the Caledonians, at the foot of the Grampian Hills; and his
fleets, venturing to explore an unknown and dangerous navigation,
displayed the Roman arms round every part of the island. The
conquest of Britain was considered as already achieved; and it
was the design of Agricola to complete and insure his success, by
the easy reduction of Ireland, for which, in his opinion, one
legion and a few auxiliaries were sufficient. The western isle
might be improved into a valuable possession, and the Britons
would wear their chains with the less reluctance, if the prospect
and example of freedom were on every side removed from before
their eyes.
But the superior merit of Agricola soon occasioned his removal
from the government of Britain; and forever disappointed this
rational, though extensive scheme of conquest. Before his
departure, the prudent general had provided for security as well
as for dominion. He had observed, that the island is almost
divided into two unequal parts by the opposite gulfs, or, as they
are now called, the Friths of Scotland. Across the narrow
interval of about forty miles, he had drawn a line of military
stations, which was afterwards fortified, in the reign of
Antoninus Pius, by a turf rampart, erected on foundations of
stone. This wall of Antoninus, at a small distance beyond the
modern cities of Edinburgh and Glasgow, was fixed as the limit of
the Roman province. The native Caledonians preserved, in the
northern extremity of the island, their wild independence, for
which they were not less indebted to their poverty than to their
valor. Their incursions were frequently repelled and chastised;
but their country was never subdued. The masters of the fairest
and most wealthy climates of the globe turned with contempt from
gloomy hills, assailed by the winter tempest, from lakes
concealed in a blue mist, and from cold and lonely heaths, over
which the deer of the forest were chased by a troop of naked
barbarians.
Such was the state of the Roman frontiers, and such the maxims
of Imperial policy, from the death of Augustus to the accession
of Trajan. That virtuous and active prince had received the
education of a soldier, and possessed the talents of a general.
The peaceful system of his predecessors was interrupted by scenes
of war and conquest; and the legions, after a long interval,
beheld a military emperor at their head. The first exploits of
Trajan were against the Dacians, the most warlike of men, who
dwelt beyond the Danube, and who, during the reign of Domitian,
had insulted, with impunity, the Majesty of Rome. To the strength
and fierceness of barbarians they added a contempt for life,
which was derived from a warm persuasion of the immortality and
transmigration of the soul. Decebalus, the Dacian king, approved
himself a rival not unworthy of Trajan; nor did he despair of his
own and the public fortune, till, by the confession of his
enemies, he had exhausted every resource both of valor and
policy. This memorable war, with a very short suspension of
hostilities, lasted five years; and as the emperor could exert,
without control, the whole force of the state, it was terminated
by an absolute submission of the barbarians. The new province of
Dacia, which formed a second exception to the precept of
Augustus, was about thirteen hundred miles in circumference. Its
natural boundaries were the Niester, the Teyss or Tibiscus, the
Lower Danube, and the Euxine Sea. The vestiges of a military road
may still be traced from the banks of the Danube to the
neighborhood of Bender, a place famous in modern history, and the
actual frontier of the Turkish and Russian empires.
Trajan was ambitious of fame; and as long as mankind shall
continue to bestow more liberal applause on their destroyers than
on their benefactors, the thirst of military glory will ever be
the vice of the most exalted characters. The praises of
Alexander, transmitted by a succession of poets and historians,
had kindled a dangerous emulation in the mind of Trajan. Like
him, the Roman emperor undertook an expedition against the
nations of the East; but he lamented with a sigh, that his
advanced age scarcely left him any hopes of equalling the renown
of the son of Philip. Yet the success of Trajan, however
transient, was rapid and specious. The degenerate Parthians,
broken by intestine discord, fled before his arms. He descended
the River Tigris in triumph, from the mountains of Armenia to the
Persian Gulf. He enjoyed the honor of being the first, as he was
the last, of the Roman generals, who ever navigated that remote
sea. His fleets ravaged the coast of Arabia; and Trajan vainly
flattered himself that he was approaching towards the confines of
India. Every day the astonished senate received the intelligence
of new names and new nations, that acknowledged his sway. They
were informed that the kings of Bosphorus, Colchos, Iberia,
Albania, Osrhoene, and even the Parthian monarch himself, had
accepted their diadems from the hands of the emperor; that the
independent tribes of the Median and Carduchian hills had
implored his protection; and that the rich countries of Armenia,
Mesopotamia, and Assyria, were reduced into the state of
provinces. But the death of Trajan soon clouded the splendid
prospect; and it was justly to be dreaded, that so many distant
nations would throw off the unaccustomed yoke, when they were no
longer restrained by the powerful hand which had imposed it.
Chapter I: The Extend Of The Empire In The Age Of
The Antoninies. -- Part II.
It was an ancient tradition, that when the Capitol was founded
by one of the Roman kings, the god Terminus (who presided over
boundaries, and was represented, according to the fashion of that
age, by a large stone) alone, among all the inferior deities,
refused to yield his place to Jupiter himself. A favorable
inference was drawn from his obstinacy, which was interpreted by
the augurs as a sure presage that the boundaries of the Roman
power would never recede. During many ages, the prediction, as it
is usual, contributed to its own accomplishment. But though
Terminus had resisted the Majesty of Jupiter, he submitted to the
authority of the emperor Hadrian. The resignation of all the
eastern conquests of Trajan was the first measure of his reign.
He restored to the Parthians the election of an independent
sovereign; withdrew the Roman garrisons from the provinces of
Armenia, Mesopotamia, and Assyria; and, in compliance with the
precept of Augustus, once more established the Euphrates as the
frontier of the empire. Censure, which arraigns the public
actions and the private motives of princes, has ascribed to envy,
a conduct which might be attributed to the prudence and
moderation of Hadrian. The various character of that emperor,
capable, by turns, of the meanest and the most generous
sentiments, may afford some color to the suspicion. It was,
however, scarcely in his power to place the superiority of his
predecessor in a more conspicuous light, than by thus confessing
himself unequal to the task of defending the conquests of
Trajan.
The martial and ambitious of spirit Trajan formed a very
singular contrast with the moderation of his successor. The
restless activity of Hadrian was not less remarkable when
compared with the gentle repose of Antoninus Pius. The life of
the former was almost a perpetual journey; and as he possessed
the various talents of the soldier, the statesman, and the
scholar, he gratified his curiosity in the discharge of his duty.
Careless of the difference of seasons and of climates, he marched
on foot, and bare-headed, over the snows of Caledonia, and the
sultry plains of the Upper Egypt; nor was there a province of the
empire which, in the course of his reign, was not honored with
the presence of the monarch. But the tranquil life of Antoninus
Pius was spent in the bosom of Italy, and, during the
twenty-three years that he directed the public administration,
the longest journeys of that amiable prince extended no farther
than from his palace in Rome to the retirement of his Lanuvian
villa.
Notwithstanding this difference in their personal conduct, the
general system of Augustus was equally adopted and uniformly
pursued by Hadrian and by the two Antonines. They persisted in
the design of maintaining the dignity of the empire, without
attempting to enlarge its limits. By every honorable expedient
they invited the friendship of the barbarians; and endeavored to
convince mankind that the Roman power, raised above the
temptation of conquest, was actuated only by the love of order
and justice. During a long period of forty-three years, their
virtuous labors were crowned with success; and if we except a few
slight hostilities, that served to exercise the legions of the
frontier, the reigns of Hadrian and Antoninus Pius offer the fair
prospect of universal peace. The Roman name was revered among the
most remote nations of the earth. The fiercest barbarians
frequently submitted their differences to the arbitration of the
emperor; and we are informed by a contemporary historian that he
had seen ambassadors who were refused the honor which they came
to solicit of being admitted into the rank of subjects.
Part II.
The terror of the Roman arms added weight and dignity to the
moderation of the emperors. They preserved peace by a constant
preparation for war; and while justice regulated their conduct,
they announced to the nations on their confines, that they were
as little disposed to endure, as to offer an injury. The military
strength, which it had been sufficient for Hadrian and the elder
Antoninus to display, was exerted against the Parthians and the
Germans by the emperor Marcus. The hostilities of the barbarians
provoked the resentment of that philosophic monarch, and, in the
prosecution of a just defence, Marcus and his generals obtained
many signal victories, both on the Euphrates and on the Danube.
The military establishment of the Roman empire, which thus
assured either its tranquillity or success, will now become the
proper and important object of our attention.
In the purer ages of the commonwealth, the use of arms was
reserved for those ranks of citizens who had a country to love, a
property to defend, and some share in enacting those laws, which
it was their interest as well as duty to maintain. But in
proportion as the public freedom was lost in extent of conquest,
war was gradually improved into an art, and degraded into a
trade. The legions themselves, even at the time when they were
recruited in the most distant provinces, were supposed to consist
of Roman citizens. That distinction was generally considered,
either as a legal qualification or as a proper recompense for the
soldier; but a more serious regard was paid to the essential
merit of age, strength, and military stature. In all levies, a
just preference was given to the climates of the North over those
of the South: the race of men born to the exercise of arms was
sought for in the country rather than in cities; and it was very
reasonably presumed, that the hardy occupations of smiths,
carpenters, and huntsmen, would supply more vigor and resolution
than the sedentary trades which are employed in the service of
luxury. After every qualification of property had been laid
aside, the armies of the Roman emperors were still commanded, for
the most part, by officers of liberal birth and education; but
the common soldiers, like the mercenary troops of modern Europe,
were drawn from the meanest, and very frequently from the most
profligate, of mankind.
That public virtue, which among the ancients was denominated
patriotism, is derived from a strong sense of our own interest in
the preservation and prosperity of the free government of which
we are members. Such a sentiment, which had rendered the legions
of the republic almost invincible, could make but a very feeble
impression on the mercenary servants of a despotic prince; and it
became necessary to supply that defect by other motives, of a
different, but not less forcible nature -- honor and religion.
The peasant, or mechanic, imbibed the useful prejudice that he
was advanced to the more dignified profession of arms, in which
his rank and reputation would depend on his own valor; and that,
although the prowess of a private soldier must often escape the
notice of fame, his own behavior might sometimes confer glory or
disgrace on the company, the legion, or even the army, to whose
honors he was associated. On his first entrance into the service,
an oath was administered to him with every circumstance of
solemnity. He promised never to desert his standard, to submit
his own will to the commands of his leaders, and to sacrifice his
life for the safety of the emperor and the empire. The attachment
of the Roman troops to their standards was inspired by the united
influence of religion and of honor. The golden eagle, which
glittered in the front of the legion, was the object of their
fondest devotion; nor was it esteemed less impious than it was
ignominious, to abandon that sacred ensign in the hour of danger.
These motives, which derived their strength from the imagination,
were enforced by fears and hopes of a more substantial kind.
Regular pay, occasional donatives, and a stated recompense, after
the appointed time of service, alleviated the hardships of the
military life, whilst, on the other hand, it was impossible for
cowardice or disobedience to escape the severest punishment. The
centurions were authorized to chastise with blows, the generals
had a right to punish with death; and it was an inflexible maxim
of Roman discipline, that a good soldier should dread his
officers far more than the enemy. From such laudable arts did the
valor of the Imperial troops receive a degree of firmness and
docility unattainable by the impetuous and irregular passions of
barbarians.
And yet so sensible were the Romans of the imperfection of
valor without skill and practice, that, in their language, the
name of an army was borrowed from the word which signified
exercise. Military exercises were the important and unremitted
object of their discipline. The recruits and young soldiers were
constantly trained, both in the morning and in the evening, nor
was age or knowledge allowed to excuse the veterans from the
daily repetition of what they had completely learnt. Large sheds
were erected in the winter-quarters of the troops, that their
useful labors might not receive any interruption from the most
tempestuous weather; and it was carefully observed, that the arms
destined to this imitation of war, should be of double the weight
which was required in real action. It is not the purpose of this
work to enter into any minute description of the Roman exercises.
We shall only remark, that they comprehended whatever could add
strength to the body, activity to the limbs, or grace to the
motions. The soldiers were diligently instructed to march, to
run, to leap, to swim, to carry heavy burdens, to handle every
species of arms that was used either for offence or for defence,
either in distant engagement or in a closer onset; to form a
variety of evolutions; and to move to the sound of flutes in the
Pyrrhic or martial dance. In the midst of peace, the Roman troops
familiarized themselves with the practice of war; and it is
prettily remarked by an ancient historian who had fought against
them, that the effusion of blood was the only circumstance which
distinguished a field of battle from a field of exercise. ^39 It
was the policy of the ablest generals, and even of the emperors
themselves, to encourage these military studies by their presence
and example; and we are informed that Hadrian, as well as Trajan,
frequently condescended to instruct the unexperienced soldiers,
to reward the diligent, and sometimes to dispute with them the
prize of superior strength or dexterity. Under the reigns of
those princes, the science of tactics was cultivated with
success; and as long as the empire retained any vigor, their
military instructions were respected as the most perfect model of
Roman discipline.
Nine centuries of war had gradually introduced into the
service many alterations and improvements. The legions, as they
are described by Polybius, in the time of the Punic wars,
differed very materially from those which achieved the victories
of Cæsar, or defended the monarchy of Hadrian and the
Antonines. The constitution of the Imperial legion may be
described in a few words. The heavy-armed infantry, which
composed its principal strength, was divided into ten cohorts,
and fifty-five companies, under the orders of a correspondent
number of tribunes and centurions. The first cohort, which always
claimed the post of honor and the custody of the eagle, was
formed of eleven hundred and five soldiers, the most approved for
valor and fidelity. The remaining nine cohorts consisted each of
five hundred and fifty-five; and the whole body of legionary
infantry amounted to six thousand one hundred men. Their arms
were uniform, and admirably adapted to the nature of their
service: an open helmet, with a lofty crest; a breastplate, or
coat of mail; greaves on their legs, and an ample buckler on
their left arm. The buckler was of an oblong and concave figure,
four feet in length, and two and a half in breadth, framed of a
light wood, covered with a bull's hide, and strongly guarded with
plates of brass. Besides a lighter spear, the legionary soldier
grasped in his right hand the formidable pilum, a
ponderous javelin, whose utmost length was about six feet, and
which was terminated by a massy triangular point of steel of
eighteen inches. This instrument was indeed much inferior to our
modern fire-arms; since it was exhausted by a single discharge,
at the distance of only ten or twelve paces. Yet when it was
launched by a firm and skilful hand, there was not any cavalry
that durst venture within its reach, nor any shield or corselet
that could sustain the impetuosity of its weight. As soon as the
Roman had darted his pilum, he drew his sword, and
rushed forwards to close with the enemy. His sword was a short
well-tempered Spanish blade, that carried a double edge, and was
alike suited to the purpose of striking or of pushing; but the
soldier was always instructed to prefer the latter use of his
weapon, as his own body remained less exposed, whilst he
inflicted a more dangerous wound on his adversary. The legion was
usually drawn up eight deep; and the regular distance of three
feet was left between the files as well as ranks. A body of
troops, habituated to preserve this open order, in a long front
and a rapid charge, found themselves prepared to execute every
disposition which the circumstances of war, or the skill of their
leader, might suggest. The soldier possessed a free space for his
arms and motions, and sufficient intervals were allowed, through
which seasonable reenforcements might be introduced to the relief
of the exhausted combatants. The tactics of the Greeks and
Macedonians were formed on very different principles. The
strength of the phalanx depended on sixteen ranks of long pikes,
wedged together in the closest array. But it was soon discovered
by reflection, as well as by the event, that the strength of the
phalanx was unable to contend with the activity of the
legion.
The cavalry, without which the force of the legion would have
remained imperfect, was divided into ten troops or squadrons; the
first, as the companion of the first cohort, consisted of a
hundred and thirty-two men; whilst each of the other nine
amounted only to sixty-six. The entire establishment formed a
regiment, if we may use the modern expression, of seven hundred
and twenty-six horse, naturally connected with its respective
legion, but occasionally separated to act in the line, and to
compose a part of the wings of the army. The cavalry of the
emperors was no longer composed, like that of the ancient
republic, of the noblest youths of Rome and Italy, who, by
performing their military service on horseback, prepared
themselves for the offices of senator and consul; and solicited,
by deeds of valor, the future suffrages of their countrymen.
Since the alteration of manners and government, the most wealthy
of the equestrian order were engaged in the administration of
justice, and of the revenue; and whenever they embraced the
profession of arms, they were immediately intrusted with a troop
of horse, or a cohort of foot. Trajan and Hadrian formed their
cavalry from the same provinces, and the same class of their
subjects, which recruited the ranks of the legion. The horses
were bred, for the most part, in Spain or Cappadocia. The Roman
troopers despised the complete armor with which the cavalry of
the East was encumbered. Their more useful arms
consisted in a helmet, an oblong shield, light boots, and a coat
of mail. A javelin, and a long broad sword, were their principal
weapons of offence. The use of lances and of iron maces they seem
to have borrowed from the barbarians.
The safety and honor of the empire was principally intrusted
to the legions, but the policy of Rome condescended to adopt
every useful instrument of war. Considerable levies were
regularly made among the provincials, who had not yet deserved
the honorable distinction of Romans. Many dependent princes and
communities, dispersed round the frontiers, were permitted, for a
while, to hold their freedom and security by the tenure of
military service. Even select troops of hostile barbarians were
frequently compelled or persuaded to consume their dangerous
valor in remote climates, and for the benefit of the state. All
these were included under the general name of auxiliaries; and
howsoever they might vary according to the difference of times
and circumstances, their numbers were seldom much inferior to
those of the legions themselves. Among the auxiliaries, the
bravest and most faithful bands were placed under the command of
præfects and centurions, and severely trained in the arts
of Roman discipline; but the far greater part retained those
arms, to which the nature of their country, or their early habits
of life, more peculiarly adapted them. By this institution, each
legion, to whom a certain proportion of auxiliaries was allotted,
contained within itself every species of lighter troops, and of
missile weapons; and was capable of encountering every nation,
with the advantages of its respective arms and discipline. Nor
was the legion destitute of what, in modern language, would be
styled a train of artillery. It consisted in ten military engines
of the largest, and fifty-five of a smaller size; but all of
which, either in an oblique or horizontal manner, discharged
stones and darts with irresistible violence.
Chapter I: The Extend Of The Empire In The Age Of
The Antoninies. -- Part III.
The camp of a Roman legion presented the appearance of a
fortified city. As soon as the space was marked out, the pioneers
carefully levelled the ground, and removed every impediment that
might interrupt its perfect regularity. Its form was an exact
quadrangle; and we may calculate, that a square of about seven
hundred yards was sufficient for the encampment of twenty
thousand Romans; though a similar number of our own troops would
expose to the enemy a front of more than treble that extent. In
the midst of the camp, the prætorium, or general's
quarters, rose above the others; the cavalry, the infantry, and
the auxiliaries occupied their respective stations; the streets
were broad and perfectly straight, and a vacant space of two
hundred feet was left on all sides between the tents and the
rampart. The rampart itself was usually twelve feet high, armed
with a line of strong and intricate palisades, and defended by a
ditch of twelve feet in depth as well as in breadth. This
important labor was performed by the hands of the legionaries
themselves; to whom the use of the spade and the pickaxe was no
less familiar than that of the sword or pilum. Active
valor may often be the present of nature; but such patient
diligence can be the fruit only of habit and discipline.
Whenever the trumpet gave the signal of departure, the camp
was almost instantly broke up, and the troops fell into their
ranks without delay or confusion. Besides their arms, which the
legendaries scarcely considered as an encumbrance, they were
laden with their kitchen furniture, the instruments of
fortification, and the provision of many days. Under this weight,
which would oppress the delicacy of a modern soldier, they were
trained by a regular step to advance, in about six hours, near
twenty miles. On the appearance of an enemy, they threw aside
their baggage, and by easy and rapid evolutions converted the
column of march into an order of battle. The slingers and archers
skirmished in the front; the auxiliaries formed the first line,
and were seconded or sustained by the strength of the legions;
the cavalry covered the flanks, and the military engines were
placed in the rear.
Such were the arts of war, by which the Roman emperors
defended their extensive conquests, and preserved a military
spirit, at a time when every other virtue was oppressed by luxury
and despotism. If, in the consideration of their armies, we pass
from their discipline to their numbers, we shall not find it easy
to define them with any tolerable accuracy. We may compute,
however, that the legion, which was itself a body of six thousand
eight hundred and thirty-one Romans, might, with its attendant
auxiliaries, amount to about twelve thousand five hundred men.
The peace establishment of Hadrian and his successors was
composed of no less than thirty of these formidable brigades; and
most probably formed a standing force of three hundred and
seventy-five thousand men. Instead of being confined within the
walls of fortified cities, which the Romans considered as the
refuge of weakness or pusillanimity, the legions were encamped on
the banks of the great rivers, and along the frontiers of the
barbarians. As their stations, for the most part, remained fixed
and permanent, we may venture to describe the distribution of the
troops. Three legions were sufficient for Britain. The principal
strength lay upon the Rhine and Danube, and consisted of sixteen
legions, in the following proportions: two in the Lower, and
three in the Upper Germany; one in Rhætia, one in Noricum,
four in Pannonia, three in Mæsia, and two in Dacia. The
defence of the Euphrates was intrusted to eight legions, six of
whom were planted in Syria, and the other two in Cappadocia. With
regard to Egypt, Africa, and Spain, as they were far removed from
any important scene of war, a single legion maintained the
domestic tranquillity of each of those great provinces. Even
Italy was not left destitute of a military force. Above twenty
thousand chosen soldiers, distinguished by the titles of City
Cohorts and Prætorian Guards, watched over the safety of
the monarch and the capital. As the authors of almost every
revolution that distracted the empire, the Prætorians will,
very soon, and very loudly, demand our attention; but, in their
arms and institutions, we cannot find any circumstance which
discriminated them from the legions, unless it were a more
splendid appearance, and a less rigid discipline.
The navy maintained by the emperors might seem inadequate to
their greatness; but it was fully sufficient for every useful
purpose of government. The ambition of the Romans was confined to
the land; nor was that warlike people ever actuated by the
enterprising spirit which had prompted the navigators of Tyre, of
Carthage, and even of Marseilles, to enlarge the bounds of the
world, and to explore the most remote coasts of the ocean. To the
Romans the ocean remained an object of terror rather than of
curiosity; the whole extent of the Mediterranean, after the
destruction of Carthage, and the extirpation of the pirates, was
included within their provinces. The policy of the emperors was
directed only to preserve the peaceful dominion of that sea, and
to protect the commerce of their subjects. With these moderate
views, Augustus stationed two permanent fleets in the most
convenient ports of Italy, the one at Ravenna, on the Adriatic,
the other at Misenum, in the Bay of Naples. Experience seems at
length to have convinced the ancients, that as soon as their
galleys exceeded two, or at the most three ranks of oars, they
were suited rather for vain pomp than for real service. Augustus
himself, in the victory of Actium, had seen the superiority of
his own light frigates (they were called Liburnians) over the
lofty but unwieldy castles of his rival. Of these Liburnians he
composed the two fleets of Ravenna and Misenum, destined to
command, the one the eastern, the other the western division of
the Mediterranean; and to each of the squadrons he attached a
body of several thousand marines. Besides these two ports, which
may be considered as the principal seats of the Roman navy, a
very considerable force was stationed at Frejus, on the coast of
Provence, and the Euxine was guarded by forty ships, and three
thousand soldiers. To all these we add the fleet which preserved
the communication between Gaul and Britain, and a great number of
vessels constantly maintained on the Rhine and Danube, to harass
the country, or to intercept the passage of the barbarians. If we
review this general state of the Imperial forces; of the cavalry
as well as infantry; of the legions, the auxiliaries, the guards,
and the navy; the most liberal computation will not allow us to
fix the entire establishment by sea and by land at more than four
hundred and fifty thousand men: a military power, which, however
formidable it may seem, was equalled by a monarch of the last
century, whose kingdom was confined within a single province of
the Roman empire.
We have attempted to explain the spirit which moderated, and
the strength which supported, the power of Hadrian and the
Antonines. We shall now endeavor, with clearness and precision,
to describe the provinces once united under their sway, but, at
present, divided into so many independent and hostile states.
Spain, the western extremity of the empire, of Europe, and of
the ancient world, has, in every age, invariably preserved the
same natural limits; the Pyrenæan Mountains, the
Mediterranean, and the Atlantic Ocean. That great peninsula, at
present so unequally divided between two sovereigns, was
distributed by Augustus into three provinces, Lusitania,
Bætica, and Tarraconensis. The kingdom of Portugal now
fills the place of the warlike country of the Lusitanians; and
the loss sustained by the former on the side of the East, is
compensated by an accession of territory towards the North. The
confines of Grenada and Andalusia correspond with those of
ancient Bætica. The remainder of Spain, Gallicia, and the
Asturias, Biscay, and Navarre, Leon, and the two Castiles,
Murcia, Valencia, Catalonia, and Arragon, all contributed to form
the third and most considerable of the Roman governments, which,
from the name of its capital, was styled the province of
Tarragona. Of the native barbarians, the Celtiberians were the
most powerful, as the Cantabrians and Asturians proved the most
obstinate. Confident in the strength of their mountains, they
were the last who submitted to the arms of Rome, and the first
who threw off the yoke of the Arabs.
Ancient Gaul, as it contained the whole country between the
Pyrenees, the Alps, the Rhine, and the Ocean, was of greater
extent than modern France. To the dominions of that powerful
monarchy, with its recent acquisitions of Alsace and Lorraine, we
must add the duchy of Savoy, the cantons of Switzerland, the four
electorates of the Rhine, and the territories of Liege,
Luxemburgh, Hainault, Flanders, and Brabant. When Augustus gave
laws to the conquests of his father, he introduced a division of
Gaul, equally adapted to the progress of the legions, to the
course of the rivers, and to the principal national distinctions,
which had comprehended above a hundred independent states. The
sea-coast of the Mediterranean, Languedoc, Provence, and
Dauphine, received their provincial appellation from the colony
of Narbonne. The government of Aquitaine was extended from the
Pyrenees to the Loire. The country between the Loire and the
Seine was styled the Celtic Gaul, and soon borrowed a new
denomination from the celebrated colony of Lugdunum, or Lyons.
The Belgic lay beyond the Seine, and in more ancient times had
been bounded only by the Rhine; but a little before the age of
Cæsar, the Germans, abusing their superiority of valor, had
occupied a considerable portion of the Belgic territory. The
Roman conquerors very eagerly embraced so flattering a
circumstance, and the Gallic frontier of the Rhine, from Basil to
Leyden, received the pompous names of the Upper and the Lower
Germany. Such, under the reign of the Antonines, were the six
provinces of Gaul; the Narbonnese, Aquitaine, the Celtic, or
Lyonnese, the Belgic, and the two Germanies.
We have already had occasion to mention the conquest of
Britain, and to fix the boundary of the Roman Province in this
island. It comprehended all England, Wales, and the Lowlands of
Scotland, as far as the Friths of Dumbarton and Edinburgh. Before
Britain lost her freedom, the country was irregularly divided
between thirty tribes of barbarians, of whom the most
considerable were the Belgæ in the West, the Brigantes in
the North, the Silures in South Wales, and the Iceni in Norfolk
and Suffolk. As far as we can either trace or credit the
resemblance of manners and language, Spain, Gaul, and Britain
were peopled by the same hardy race of savages. Before they
yielded to the Roman arms, they often disputed the field, and
often renewed the contest. After their submission, they
constituted the western division of the European provinces, which
extended from the columns of Hercules to the wall of Antoninus,
and from the mouth of the Tagus to the sources of the Rhine and
Danube.
Before the Roman conquest, the country which is now called
Lombardy, was not considered as a part of Italy. It had been
occupied by a powerful colony of Gauls, who, settling themselves
along the banks of the Po, from Piedmont to Romagna, carried
their arms and diffused their name from the Alps to the Apennine.
The Ligurians dwelt on the rocky coast which now forms the
republic of Genoa. Venice was yet unborn; but the territories of
that state, which lie to the east of the Adige, were inhabited by
the Venetians. The middle part of the peninsula, that now
composes the duchy of Tuscany and the ecclesiastical state, was
the ancient seat of the Etruscans and Umbrians; to the former of
whom Italy was indebted for the first rudiments of civilized
life. The Tyber rolled at the foot of the seven hills of Rome,
and the country of the Sabines, the Latins, and the Volsci, from
that river to the frontiers of Naples, was the theatre of her
infant victories. On that celebrated ground the first consuls
deserved triumphs, their successors adorned villas, and their
posterity have erected convents. Capua and Campania possessed the
immediate territory of Naples; the rest of the kingdom was
inhabited by many warlike nations, the Marsi, the Samnites, the
Apulians, and the Lucanians; and the sea-coasts had been covered
by the flourishing colonies of the Greeks. We may remark, that
when Augustus divided Italy into eleven regions, the little
province of Istria was annexed to that seat of Roman
sovereignty.
The European provinces of Rome were protected by the course of
the Rhine and the Danube. The latter of those mighty streams,
which rises at the distance of only thirty miles from the former,
flows above thirteen hundred miles, for the most part to the
south-east, collects the tribute of sixty navigable rivers, and
is, at length, through six mouths, received into the Euxine,
which appears scarcely equal to such an accession of waters. The
provinces of the Danube soon acquired the general appellation of
Illyricum, or the Illyrian frontier, and were esteemed the most
warlike of the empire; but they deserve to be more particularly
considered under the names of Rhætia, Noricum, Pannonia,
Dalmatia, Dacia, Mæsia, Thrace, Macedonia, and Greece.
The province of Rhætia, which soon extinguished the name
of the Vindelicians, extended from the summit of the Alps to the
banks of the Danube; from its source, as far as its conflux with
the Inn. The greatest part of the flat country is subject to the
elector of Bavaria; the city of Augsburg is protected by the
constitution of the German empire; the Grisons are safe in their
mountains, and the country of Tirol is ranked among the numerous
provinces of the house of Austria.
The wide extent of territory which is included between the
Inn, the Danube, and the Save, -- Austria, Styria, Carinthia,
Carniola, the Lower Hungary, and Sclavonia, -- was known to the
ancients under the names of Noricum and Pannonia. In their
original state of independence, their fierce inhabitants were
intimately connected. Under the Roman government they were
frequently united, and they still remain the patrimony of a
single family. They now contain the residence of a German prince,
who styles himself Emperor of the Romans, and form the centre, as
well as strength, of the Austrian power. It may not be improper
to observe, that if we except Bohemia, Moravia, the northern
skirts of Austria, and a part of Hungary between the Teyss and
the Danube, all the other dominions of the House of Austria were
comprised within the limits of the Roman Empire.
Dalmatia, to which the name of Illyricum more properly
belonged, was a long, but narrow tract, between the Save and the
Adriatic. The best part of the sea-coast, which still retains its
ancient appellation, is a province of the Venetian state, and the
seat of the little republic of Ragusa. The inland parts have
assumed the Sclavonian names of Croatia and Bosnia; the former
obeys an Austrian governor, the latter a Turkish pacha; but the
whole country is still infested by tribes of barbarians, whose
savage independence irregularly marks the doubtful limit of the
Christian and Mahometan power.
After the Danube had received the waters of the Teyss and the
Save, it acquired, at least among the Greeks, the name of Ister.
It formerly divided Mæsia and Dacia, the latter of which,
as we have already seen, was a conquest of Trajan, and the only
province beyond the river. If we inquire into the present state
of those countries, we shall find that, on the left hand of the
Danube, Temeswar and Transylvania have been annexed, after many
revolutions, to the crown of Hungary; whilst the principalities
of Moldavia and Wallachia acknowledge the supremacy of the
Ottoman Porte. On the right hand of the Danube, Mæsia,
which, during the middle ages, was broken into the barbarian
kingdoms of Servia and Bulgaria, is again united in Turkish
slavery.
The appellation of Roumelia, which is still bestowed by the
Turks on the extensive countries of Thrace, Macedonia, and
Greece, preserves the memory of their ancient state under the
Roman empire. In the time of the Antonines, the martial regions
of Thrace, from the mountains of Hæmus and Rhodope, to the
Bosphorus and the Hellespont, had assumed the form of a province.
Notwithstanding the change of masters and of religion, the new
city of Rome, founded by Constantine on the banks of the
Bosphorus, has ever since remained the capital of a great
monarchy. The kingdom of Macedonia, which, under the reign of
Alexander, gave laws to Asia, derived more solid advantages from
the policy of the two Philips; and with its dependencies of
Epirus and Thessaly, extended from the Ægean to the Ionian
Sea. When we reflect on the fame of Thebes and Argos, of Sparta
and Athens, we can scarcely persuade ourselves, that so many
immortal republics of ancient Greece were lost in a single
province of the Roman empire, which, from the superior influence
of the Achæan league, was usually denominated the province
of Achaia.
Such was the state of Europe under the Roman emperors. The
provinces of Asia, without excepting the transient conquests of
Trajan, are all comprehended within the limits of the Turkish
power. But, instead of following the arbitrary divisions of
despotism and ignorance, it will be safer for us, as well as more
agreeable, to observe the indelible characters of nature. The
name of Asia Minor is attributed with some propriety to the
peninsula, which, confined betwixt the Euxine and the
Mediterranean, advances from the Euphrates towards Europe. The
most extensive and flourishing district, westward of Mount Taurus
and the River Halys, was dignified by the Romans with the
exclusive title of Asia. The jurisdiction of that province
extended over the ancient monarchies of Troy, Lydia, and Phrygia,
the maritime countries of the Pamphylians, Lycians, and Carians,
and the Grecian colonies of Ionia, which equalled in arts, though
not in arms, the glory of their parent. The kingdoms of Bithynia
and Pontus possessed the northern side of the peninsula from
Constantinople to Trebizond. On the opposite side, the province
of Cilicia was terminated by the mountains of Syria: the inland
country, separated from the Roman Asia by the River Halys, and
from Armenia by the Euphrates, had once formed the independent
kingdom of Cappadocia. In this place we may observe, that the
northern shores of the Euxine, beyond Trebizond in Asia, and
beyond the Danube in Europe, acknowledged the sovereignty of the
emperors, and received at their hands either tributary princes or
Roman garrisons. Budzak, Crim Tartary, Circassia, and Mingrelia,
are the modern appellations of those savage countries.
Under the successors of Alexander, Syria was the seat of the
Seleucidæ, who reigned over Upper Asia, till the successful
revolt of the Parthians confined their dominions between the
Euphrates and the Mediterranean. When Syria became subject to the
Romans, it formed the eastern frontier of their empire: nor did
that province, in its utmost latitude, know any other bounds than
the mountains of Cappadocia to the north, and towards the south,
the confines of Egypt, and the Red Sea. Phoenicia and Palestine
were sometimes annexed to, and sometimes separated from, the
jurisdiction of Syria. The former of these was a narrow and rocky
coast; the latter was a territory scarcely superior to Wales,
either in fertility or extent. * Yet Phoenicia and Palestine will
forever live in the memory of mankind; since America, as well as
Europe, has received letters from the one, and religion from the
other. A sandy desert, alike destitute of wood and water, skirts
along the doubtful confine of Syria, from the Euphrates to the
Red Sea. The wandering life of the Arabs was inseparably
connected with their independence; and wherever, on some spots
less barren than the rest, they ventured to for many settled
habitations, they soon became subjects to the Roman empire.
The geographers of antiquity have frequently hesitated to what
portion of the globe they should ascribe Egypt. By its situation
that celebrated kingdom is included within the immense peninsula
of Africa; but it is accessible only on the side of Asia, whose
revolutions, in almost every period of history, Egypt has humbly
obeyed. A Roman præfect was seated on the splendid throne
of the Ptolemies; and the iron sceptre of the Mamelukes is now in
the hands of a Turkish pacha. The Nile flows down the country,
above five hundred miles from the tropic of Cancer to the
Mediterranean, and marks on either side of the extent of
fertility by the measure of its inundations. Cyrene, situate
towards the west, and along the sea-coast, was first a Greek
colony, afterwards a province of Egypt, and is now lost in the
desert of Barca. *
From Cyrene to the ocean, the coast of Africa extends above
fifteen hundred miles; yet so closely is it pressed between the
Mediterranean and the Sahara, or sandy desert, that its breadth
seldom exceeds fourscore or a hundred miles. The eastern division
was considered by the Romans as the more peculiar and proper
province of Africa. Till the arrival of the Phnician colonies,
that fertile country was inhabited by the Libyans, the most
savage of mankind. Under the immediate jurisdiction of Carthage,
it became the centre of commerce and empire; but the republic of
Carthage is now degenerated into the feeble and disorderly states
of Tripoli and Tunis. The military government of Algiers
oppresses the wide extent of Numidia, as it was once united under
Massinissa and Jugurtha; but in the time of Augustus, the limits
of Numidia were contracted; and, at least, two thirds of the
country acquiesced in the name of Mauritania, with the epithet of
Cæsariensis. The genuine Mauritania, or country of the
Moors, which, from the ancient city of Tingi, or Tangier, was
distinguished by the appellation of Tingitana, is represented by
the modern kingdom of Fez. Salle, on the Ocean, so infamous at
present for its piratical depredations, was noticed by the
Romans, as the extreme object of their power, and almost of their
geography. A city of their foundation may still be discovered
near Mequinez, the residence of the barbarian whom we condescend
to style the Emperor of Morocco; but it does not appear, that his
more southern dominions, Morocco itself, and Segelmessa, were
ever comprehended within the Roman province. The western parts of
Africa are intersected by the branches of Mount Atlas, a name so
idly celebrated by the fancy of poets; but which is now diffused
over the immense ocean that rolls between the ancient and the new
continent.
Having now finished the circuit of the Roman empire, we may
observe, that Africa is divided from Spain by a narrow strait of
about twelve miles, through which the Atlantic flows into the
Mediterranean. The columns of Hercules, so famous among the
ancients, were two mountains which seemed to have been torn
asunder by some convulsion of the elements; and at the foot of
the European mountain, the fortress of Gibraltar is now seated.
The whole extent of the Mediterranean Sea, its coasts and its
islands, were comprised within the Roman dominion. Of the larger
islands, the two Baleares, which derive their name of Majorca and
Minorca from their respective size, are subject at present, the
former to Spain, the latter to Great Britain. * It is easier to
deplore the fate, than to describe the actual condition, of
Corsica. Two Italian sovereigns assume a regal title from
Sardinia and Sicily. Crete, or Candia, with Cyprus, and most of
the smaller islands of Greece and Asia, have been subdued by the
Turkish arms, whilst the little rock of Malta defies their power,
and has emerged, under the government of its military Order, into
fame and opulence.
This long enumeration of provinces, whose broken fragments
have formed so many powerful kingdoms, might almost induce us to
forgive the vanity or ignorance of the ancients. Dazzled with the
extensive sway, the irresistible strength, and the real or
affected moderation of the emperors, they permitted themselves to
despise, and sometimes to forget, the outlying countries which
had been left in the enjoyment of a barbarous independence; and
they gradually usurped the license of confounding the Roman
monarchy with the globe of the earth. But the temper, as well as
knowledge, of a modern historian, require a more sober and
accurate language. He may impress a juster image of the greatness
of Rome, by observing that the empire was above two thousand
miles in breadth, from the wall of Antoninus and the northern
limits of Dacia, to Mount Atlas and the tropic of Cancer; that it
extended in length more than three thousand miles from the
Western Ocean to the Euphrates; that it was situated in the
finest part of the Temperate Zone, between the twenty-fourth and
fifty-sixth degrees of northern latitude; and that it was
supposed to contain above sixteen hundred thousand square miles,
for the most part of fertile and well-cultivated land.
Chapter II: The Internal Prosperity In The Age Of The Antonines.
Part I.
Of The Union And Internal Prosperity Of The Roman Empire, In
The Age Of The Antonines.
It is not alone by the rapidity, or extent of conquest, that
we should estimate the greatness of Rome. The sovereign of the
Russian deserts commands a larger portion of the globe. In the
seventh summer after his passage of the Hellespont, Alexander
erected the Macedonian trophies on the banks of the Hyphasis.
Within less than a century, the irresistible Zingis, and the
Mogul princes of his race, spread their cruel devastations and
transient empire from the Sea of China, to the confines of Egypt
and Germany. But the firm edifice of Roman power was raised and
preserved by the wisdom of ages. The obedient provinces of Trajan
and the Antonines were united by laws, and adorned by arts. They
might occasionally suffer from the partial abuse of delegated
authority; but the general principle of government was wise,
simple, and beneficent. They enjoyed the religion of their
ancestors, whilst in civil honors and advantages they were
exalted, by just degrees, to an equality with their
conquerors.
I. The policy of the emperors and the senate, as far as it
concerned religion, was happily seconded by the reflections of
the enlightened, and by the habits of the superstitious, part of
their subjects. The various modes of worship, which prevailed in
the Roman world, were all considered by the people, as equally
true; by the philosopher, as equally false; and by the
magistrate, as equally useful. And thus toleration produced not
only mutual indulgence, but even religious concord.
The superstition of the people was not imbittered by any
mixture of theological rancor; nor was it confined by the chains
of any speculative system. The devout polytheist, though fondly
attached to his national rites, admitted with implicit faith the
different religions of the earth. Fear, gratitude, and curiosity,
a dream or an omen, a singular disorder, or a distant journey,
perpetually disposed him to multiply the articles of his belief,
and to enlarge the list of his protectors. The thin texture of
the Pagan mythology was interwoven with various but not
discordant materials. As soon as it was allowed that sages and
heroes, who had lived or who had died for the benefit of their
country, were exalted to a state of power and immortality, it was
universally confessed, that they deserved, if not the adoration,
at least the reverence, of all mankind. The deities of a thousand
groves and a thousand streams possessed, in peace, their local
and respective influence; nor could the Romans who deprecated the
wrath of the Tiber, deride the Egyptian who presented his
offering to the beneficent genius of the Nile. The visible powers
of nature, the planets, and the elements were the same throughout
the universe. The invisible governors of the moral world were
inevitably cast in a similar mould of fiction and allegory. Every
virtue, and even vice, acquired its divine representative; every
art and profession its patron, whose attributes, in the most
distant ages and countries, were uniformly derived from the
character of their peculiar votaries. A republic of gods of such
opposite tempers and interests required, in every system, the
moderating hand of a supreme magistrate, who, by the progress of
knowledge and flattery, was gradually invested with the sublime
perfections of an Eternal Parent, and an Omnipotent Monarch. Such
was the mild spirit of antiquity, that the nations were less
attentive to the difference, than to the resemblance, of their
religious worship. The Greek, the Roman, and the Barbarian, as
they met before their respective altars, easily persuaded
themselves, that under various names, and with various
ceremonies, they adored the same deities. The elegant mythology
of Homer gave a beautiful, and almost a regular form, to the
polytheism of the ancient world.
The philosophers of Greece deduced their morals from the
nature of man, rather than from that of God. They meditated,
however, on the Divine Nature, as a very curious and important
speculation; and in the profound inquiry, they displayed the
strength and weakness of the human understanding. Of the four
most celebrated schools, the Stoics and the Platonists endeavored
to reconcile the jaring interests of reason and piety. They have
left us the most sublime proofs of the existence and perfections
of the first cause; but, as it was impossible for them to
conceive the creation of matter, the workman in the Stoic
philosophy was not sufficiently distinguished from the work;
whilst, on the contrary, the spiritual God of Plato and his
disciples resembled an idea, rather than a substance. The
opinions of the Academics and Epicureans were of a less religious
cast; but whilst the modest science of the former induced them to
doubt, the positive ignorance of the latter urged them to deny,
the providence of a Supreme Ruler. The spirit of inquiry,
prompted by emulation, and supported by freedom, had divided the
public teachers of philosophy into a variety of contending sects;
but the ingenious youth, who, from every part, resorted to
Athens, and the other seats of learning in the Roman empire, were
alike instructed in every school to reject and to despise the
religion of the multitude. How, indeed, was it possible that a
philosopher should accept, as divine truths, the idle tales of
the poets, and the incoherent traditions of antiquity; or that he
should adore, as gods, those imperfect beings whom he must have
despised, as men? Against such unworthy adversaries, Cicero
condescended to employ the arms of reason and eloquence; but the
satire of Lucian was a much more adequate, as well as more
efficacious, weapon. We may be well assured, that a writer,
conversant with the world, would never have ventured to expose
the gods of his country to public ridicule, had they not already
been the objects of secret contempt among the polished and
enlightened orders of society.
Notwithstanding the fashionable irreligion which prevailed in
the age of the Antonines, both the interest of the priests and
the credulity of the people were sufficiently respected. In their
writings and conversation, the philosophers of antiquity asserted
the independent dignity of reason; but they resigned their
actions to the commands of law and of custom. Viewing, with a
smile of pity and indulgence, the various errors of the vulgar,
they diligently practised the ceremonies of their fathers,
devoutly frequented the temples of the gods; and sometimes
condescending to act a part on the theatre of superstition, they
concealed the sentiments of an atheist under the sacerdotal
robes. Reasoners of such a temper were scarcely inclined to
wrangle about their respective modes of faith, or of worship. It
was indifferent to them what shape the folly of the multitude
might choose to assume; and they approached with the same inward
contempt, and the same external reverence, the altars of the
Libyan, the Olympian, or the Capitoline Jupiter.
It is not easy to conceive from what motives a spirit of
persecution could introduce itself into the Roman councils. The
magistrates could not be actuated by a blind, though honest
bigotry, since the magistrates were themselves philosophers; and
the schools of Athens had given laws to the senate. They could
not be impelled by ambition or avarice, as the temporal and
ecclesiastical powers were united in the same hands. The pontiffs
were chosen among the most illustrious of the senators; and the
office of Supreme Pontiff was constantly exercised by the
emperors themselves. They knew and valued the advantages of
religion, as it is connected with civil government. They
encouraged the public festivals which humanize the manners of the
people. They managed the arts of divination as a convenient
instrument of policy; and they respected, as the firmest bond of
society, the useful persuasion, that, either in this or in a
future life, the crime of perjury is most assuredly punished by
the avenging gods. But whilst they acknowledged the general
advantages of religion, they were convinced that the various
modes of worship contributed alike to the same salutary purposes;
and that, in every country, the form of superstition, which had
received the sanction of time and experience, was the best
adapted to the climate, and to its inhabitants. Avarice and taste
very frequently despoiled the vanquished nations of the elegant
statues of their gods, and the rich ornaments of their temples;
but, in the exercise of the religion which they derived from
their ancestors, they uniformly experienced the indulgence, and
even protection, of the Roman conquerors. The province of Gaul
seems, and indeed only seems, an exception to this universal
toleration. Under the specious pretext of abolishing human
sacrifices, the emperors Tiberius and Claudius suppressed the
dangerous power of the Druids: but the priests themselves, their
gods and their altars, subsisted in peaceful obscurity till the
final destruction of Paganism.
Rome, the capital of a great monarchy, was incessantly filled
with subjects and strangers from every part of the world, who all
introduced and enjoyed the favorite superstitions of their native
country. Every city in the empire was justified in maintaining
the purity of its ancient ceremonies; and the Roman senate, using
the common privilege, sometimes interposed, to check this
inundation of foreign rites. * The Egyptian superstition, of all
the most contemptible and abject, was frequently prohibited: the
temples of Serapis and Isis demolished, and their worshippers
banished from Rome and Italy. But the zeal of fanaticism
prevailed over the cold and feeble efforts of policy. The exiles
returned, the proselytes multiplied, the temples were restored
with increasing splendor, and Isis and Serapis at length assumed
their place among the Roman Deities. Nor was this indulgence a
departure from the old maxims of government. In the purest ages
of the commonwealth, Cybele and Æsculapius had been invited
by solemn embassies; and it was customary to tempt the protectors
of besieged cities, by the promise of more distinguished honors
than they possessed in their native country. Rome gradually
became the common temple of her subjects; and the freedom of the
city was bestowed on all the gods of mankind.
II. The narrow policy of preserving, without any foreign
mixture, the pure blood of the ancient citizens, had checked the
fortune, and hastened the ruin, of Athens and Sparta. The
aspiring genius of Rome sacrificed vanity to ambition, and deemed
it more prudent, as well as honorable, to adopt virtue and merit
for her own wheresoever they were found, among slaves or
strangers, enemies or barbarians. During the most flourishing
æra of the Athenian commonwealth, the number of citizens
gradually decreased from about thirty to twenty-one thousand. If,
on the contrary, we study the growth of the Roman republic, we
may discover, that, notwithstanding the incessant demands of wars
and colonies, the citizens, who, in the first census of Servius
Tullius, amounted to no more than eighty-three thousand, were
multiplied, before the commencement of the social war, to the
number of four hundred and sixty-three thousand men, able to bear
arms in the service of their country. When the allies of Rome
claimed an equal share of honors and privileges, the senate
indeed preferred the chance of arms to an ignominious concession.
The Samnites and the Lucanians paid the severe penalty of their
rashness; but the rest of the Italian states, as they
successively returned to their duty, were admitted into the bosom
of the republic, and soon contributed to the ruin of public
freedom. Under a democratical government, the citizens exercise
the powers of sovereignty; and those powers will be first abused,
and afterwards lost, if they are committed to an unwieldy
multitude. But when the popular assemblies had been suppressed by
the administration of the emperors, the conquerors were
distinguished from the vanquished nations, only as the first and
most honorable order of subjects; and their increase, however
rapid, was no longer exposed to the same dangers. Yet the wisest
princes, who adopted the maxims of Augustus, guarded with the
strictest care the dignity of the Roman name, and diffused the
freedom of the city with a prudent liberality.
Chapter II: The Internal Prosperity In The Age Of
The Antonines. -- Part II.
Till the privileges of Romans had been progressively extended
to all the inhabitants of the empire, an important distinction
was preserved between Italy and the provinces. The former was
esteemed the centre of public unity, and the firm basis of the
constitution. Italy claimed the birth, or at least the residence,
of the emperors and the senate. The estates of the Italians were
exempt from taxes, their persons from the arbitrary jurisdiction
of governors. Their municipal corporations, formed after the
perfect model of the capital, * were intrusted, under the
immediate eye of the supreme power, with the execution of the
laws. From the foot of the Alps to the extremity of Calabria, all
the natives of Italy were born citizens of Rome. Their partial
distinctions were obliterated, and they insensibly coalesced into
one great nation, united by language, manners, and civil
institutions, and equal to the weight of a powerful empire. The
republic gloried in her generous policy, and was frequently
rewarded by the merit and services of her adopted sons. Had she
always confined the distinction of Romans to the ancient families
within the walls of the city, that immortal name would have been
deprived of some of its noblest ornaments. Virgil was a native of
Mantua; Horace was inclined to doubt whether he should call
himself an Apulian or a Lucanian; it was in Padua that an
historian was found worthy to record the majestic series of Roman
victories. The patriot family of the Catos emerged from Tusculum;
and the little town of Arpinum claimed the double honor of
producing Marius and Cicero, the former of whom deserved, after
Romulus and Camillus, to be styled the Third Founder of Rome; and
the latter, after saving his country from the designs of
Catiline, enabled her to contend with Athens for the palm of
eloquence.
The provinces of the empire (as they have been described in
the preceding chapter) were destitute of any public force, or
constitutional freedom. In Etruria, in Greece, and in Gaul, it
was the first care of the senate to dissolve those dangerous
confederacies, which taught mankind that, as the Roman arms
prevailed by division, they might be resisted by union. Those
princes, whom the ostentation of gratitude or generosity
permitted for a while to hold a precarious sceptre, were
dismissed from their thrones, as soon as they had per formed
their appointed task of fashioning to the yoke the vanquished
nations. The free states and cities which had embraced the cause
of Rome were rewarded with a nominal alliance, and insensibly
sunk into real servitude. The public authority was every where
exercised by the ministers of the senate and of the emperors, and
that authority was absolute, and without control. But the same
salutary maxims of government, which had secured the peace and
obedience of Italy were extended to the most distant conquests. A
nation of Romans was gradually formed in the provinces, by the
double expedient of introducing colonies, and of admitting the
most faithful and deserving of the provincials to the freedom of
Rome.
"Wheresoever the Roman conquers, he inhabits," is a very just
observation of Seneca, confirmed by history and experience. The
natives of Italy, allured by pleasure or by interest, hastened to
enjoy the advantages of victory; and we may remark, that, about
forty years after the reduction of Asia, eighty thousand Romans
were massacred in one day, by the cruel orders of Mithridates.
These voluntary exiles were engaged, for the most part, in the
occupations of commerce, agriculture, and the farm of the
revenue. But after the legions were rendered permanent by the
emperors, the provinces were peopled by a race of soldiers; and
the veterans, whether they received the reward of their service
in land or in money, usually settled with their families in the
country, where they had honorably spent their youth. Throughout
the empire, but more particularly in the western parts, the most
fertile districts, and the most convenient situations, were
reserved for the establishment of colonies; some of which were of
a civil, and others of a military nature. In their manners and
internal policy, the colonies formed a perfect representation of
their great parent; and they were soon endeared to the natives by
the ties of friendship and alliance, they effectually diffused a
reverence for the Roman name, and a desire, which was seldom
disappointed, of sharing, in due time, its honors and advantages.
The municipal cities insensibly equalled the rank and splendor of
the colonies; and in the reign of Hadrian, it was disputed which
was the preferable condition, of those societies which had issued
from, or those which had been received into, the bosom of Rome.
The right of Latium, as it was called, * conferred on the cities
to which it had been granted, a more partial favor. The
magistrates only, at the expiration of their office, assumed the
quality of Roman citizens; but as those offices were annual, in a
few years they circulated round the principal families. Those of
the provincials who were permitted to bear arms in the legions;
those who exercised any civil employment; all, in a word, who
performed any public service, or displayed any personal talents,
were rewarded with a present, whose value was continually
diminished by the increasing liberality of the emperors. Yet
even, in the age of the Antonines, when the freedom of the city
had been bestowed on the greater number of their subjects, it was
still accompanied with very solid advantages. The bulk of the
people acquired, with that title, the benefit of the Roman laws,
particularly in the interesting articles of marriage, testaments,
and inheritances; and the road of fortune was open to those whose
pretensions were seconded by favor or merit. The grandsons of the
Gauls, who had besieged Julius Cæsar in Alcsia, commanded
legions, governed provinces, and were admitted into the senate of
Rome. Their ambition, instead of disturbing the tranquillity of
the state, was intimately connected with its safety and
greatness.
So sensible were the Romans of the influence of language over
national manners, that it was their most serious care to extend,
with the progress of their arms, the use of the Latin tongue. The
ancient dialects of Italy, the Sabine, the Etruscan, and the
Venetian, sunk into oblivion; but in the provinces, the east was
less docile than the west to the voice of its victorious
preceptors. This obvious difference marked the two portions of
the empire with a distinction of colors, which, though it was in
some degree concealed during the meridian splendor of prosperity,
became gradually more visible, as the shades of night descended
upon the Roman world. The western countries were civilized by the
same hands which subdued them. As soon as the barbarians were
reconciled to obedience, their minds were open to any new
impressions of knowledge and politeness. The language of Virgil
and Cicero, though with some inevitable mixture of corruption,
was so universally adopted in Africa, Spain, Gaul Britain, and
Pannonia, that the faint traces of the Punic or Celtic idioms
were preserved only in the mountains, or among the peasants.
Education and study insensibly inspired the natives of those
countries with the sentiments of Romans; and Italy gave fashions,
as well as laws, to her Latin provincials. They solicited with
more ardor, and obtained with more facility, the freedom and
honors of the state; supported the national dignity in letters
and in arms; and at length, in the person of Trajan, produced an
emperor whom the Scipios would not have disowned for their
countryman. The situation of the Greeks was very different from
that of the barbarians. The former had been long since civilized
and corrupted. They had too much taste to relinquish their
language, and too much vanity to adopt any foreign institutions.
Still preserving the prejudices, after they had lost the virtues,
of their ancestors, they affected to despise the unpolished
manners of the Roman conquerors, whilst they were compelled to
respect their superior wisdom and power. Nor was the influence of
the Grecian language and sentiments confined to the narrow limits
of that once celebrated country. Their empire, by the progress of
colonies and conquest, had been diffused from the Adriatic to the
Euphrates and the Nile. Asia was covered with Greek cities, and
the long reign of the Macedonian kings had introduced a silent
revolution into Syria and Egypt. In their pompous courts, those
princes united the elegance of Athens with the luxury of the
East, and the example of the court was imitated, at an humble
distance, by the higher ranks of their subjects. Such was the
general division of the Roman empire into the Latin and Greek
languages. To these we may add a third distinction for the body
of the natives in Syria, and especially in Egypt, the use of
their ancient dialects, by secluding them from the commerce of
mankind, checked the improvements of those barbarians. The
slothful effeminacy of the former exposed them to the contempt,
the sullen ferociousness of the latter excited the aversion, of
the conquerors. Those nations had submitted to the Roman power,
but they seldom desired or deserved the freedom of the city: and
it was remarked, that more than two hundred and thirty years
elapsed after the ruin of the Ptolemies, before an Egyptian was
admitted into the senate of Rome.
It is a just though trite observation, that victorious Rome
was herself subdued by the arts of Greece. Those immortal writers
who still command the admiration of modern Europe, soon became
the favorite object of study and imitation in Italy and the
western provinces. But the elegant amusements of the Romans were
not suffered to interfere with their sound maxims of policy.
Whilst they acknowledged the charms of the Greek, they asserted
the dignity of the Latin tongue, and the exclusive use of the
latter was inflexibly maintained in the administration of civil
as well as military government. The two languages exercised at
the same time their separate jurisdiction throughout the empire:
the former, as the natural idiom of science; the latter, as the
legal dialect of public transactions. Those who united letters
with business were equally conversant with both; and it was
almost impossible, in any province, to find a Roman subject, of a
liberal education, who was at once a stranger to the Greek and to
the Latin language.
It was by such institutions that the nations of the empire
insensibly melted away into the Roman name and people. But there
still remained, in the centre of every province and of every
family, an unhappy condition of men who endured the weight,
without sharing the benefits, of society. In the free states of
antiquity, the domestic slaves were exposed to the wanton rigor
of despotism. The perfect settlement of the Roman empire was
preceded by ages of violence and rapine. The slaves consisted,
for the most part, of barbarian captives, * taken in thousands by
the chance of war, purchased at a vile price, accustomed to a
life of independence, and impatient to break and to revenge their
fetters. Against such internal enemies, whose desperate
insurrections had more than once reduced the republic to the
brink of destruction, the most severe regulations, and the most
cruel treatment, seemed almost justified by the great law of
self-preservation. But when the principal nations of Europe,
Asia, and Africa were united under the laws of one sovereign, the
source of foreign supplies flowed with much less abundance, and
the Romans were reduced to the milder but more tedious method of
propagation. * In their numerous families, and particularly in
their country estates, they encouraged the marriage of their
slaves. The sentiments of nature, the habits of education, and
the possession of a dependent species of property, contributed to
alleviate the hardships of servitude. The existence of a slave
became an object of greater value, and though his happiness still
depended on the temper and circumstances of the master, the
humanity of the latter, instead of being restrained by fear, was
encouraged by the sense of his own interest. The progress of
manners was accelerated by the virtue or policy of the emperors;
and by the edicts of Hadrian and the Antonines, the protection of
the laws was extended to the most abject part of mankind. The
jurisdiction of life and death over the slaves, a power long
exercised and often abused, was taken out of private hands, and
reserved to the magistrates alone. The subterraneous prisons were
abolished; and, upon a just complaint of intolerable treatment,
the injured slave obtained either his deliverance, or a less
cruel master.
Hope, the best comfort of our imperfect condition, was not
denied to the Roman slave; and if he had any opportunity of
rendering himself either useful or agreeable, he might very
naturally expect that the diligence and fidelity of a few years
would be rewarded with the inestimable gift of freedom. The
benevolence of the master was so frequently prompted by the
meaner suggestions of vanity and avarice, that the laws found it
more necessary to restrain than to encourage a profuse and
undistinguishing liberality, which might degenerate into a very
dangerous abuse. It was a maxim of ancient jurisprudence, that a
slave had not any country of his own; he acquired with his
liberty an admission into the political society of which his
patron was a member. The consequences of this maxim would have
prostituted the privileges of the Roman city to a mean and
promiscuous multitude. Some seasonable exceptions were therefore
provided; and the honorable distinction was confined to such
slaves only as, for just causes, and with the approbation of the
magistrate, should receive a solemn and legal manumission. Even
these chosen freedmen obtained no more than the private rights of
citizens, and were rigorously excluded from civil or military
honors. Whatever might be the merit or fortune of their sons,
they likewise were esteemed unworthy of a seat in the
senate; nor were the traces of a servile origin allowed to be
completely obliterated till the third or fourth generation.
Without destroying the distinction of ranks, a distant prospect
of freedom and honors was presented, even to those whom pride and
prejudice almost disdained to number among the human species.
It was once proposed to discriminate the slaves by a peculiar
habit; but it was justly apprehended that there might be some
danger in acquainting them with their own numbers. Without
interpreting, in their utmost strictness, the liberal
appellations of legions and myriads, we may venture to pronounce,
that the proportion of slaves, who were valued as property, was
more considerable than that of servants, who can be computed only
as an expense. The youths of a promising genius were instructed
in the arts and sciences, and their price was ascertained by the
degree of their skill and talents. Almost every profession,
either liberal or mechanical, might be found in the household of
an opulent senator. The ministers of pomp and sensuality were
multiplied beyond the conception of modern luxury. It was more
for the interest of the merchant or manufacturer to purchase,
than to hire his workmen; and in the country, slaves were
employed as the cheapest and most laborious instruments of
agriculture. To confirm the general observation, and to display
the multitude of slaves, we might allege a variety of particular
instances. It was discovered, on a very melancholy occasion, that
four hundred slaves were maintained in a single palace of Rome.
The same number of four hundred belonged to an estate which an
African widow, of a very private condition, resigned to her son,
whilst she reserved for herself a much larger share of her
property. A freedman, under the name of Augustus, though his
fortune had suffered great losses in the civil wars, left behind
him three thousand six hundred yoke of oxen, two hundred and
fifty thousand head of smaller cattle, and what was almost
included in the description of cattle, four thousand one hundred
and sixteen slaves.
The number of subjects who acknowledged the laws of Rome, of
citizens, of provincials, and of slaves, cannot now be fixed with
such a degree of accuracy, as the importance of the object would
deserve. We are informed, that when the Emperor Claudius
exercised the office of censor, he took an account of six
millions nine hundred and forty-five thousand Roman citizens,
who, with the proportion of women and children, must have
amounted to about twenty millions of souls. The multitude of
subjects of an inferior rank was uncertain and fluctuating. But,
after weighing with attention every circumstance which could
influence the balance, it seems probable that there existed, in
the time of Claudius, about twice as many provincials as there
were citizens, of either sex, and of every age; and that the
slaves were at least equal in number to the free inhabitants of
the Roman world. * The total amount of this imperfect calculation
would rise to about one hundred and twenty millions of persons; a
degree of population which possibly exceeds that of modern
Europe, and forms the most numerous society that has ever been
united under the same system of government.
Chapter II: The Internal Prosperity In The Age Of
The Antonines. -- Part III.
Domestic peace and union were the natural consequences of the
moderate and comprehensive policy embraced by the Romans. If we
turn our eyes towards the monarchies of Asia, we shall behold
despotism in the centre, and weakness in the extremities; the
collection of the revenue, or the administration of justice,
enforced by the presence of an army; hostile barbarians
established in the heart of the country, hereditary satraps
usurping the dominion of the provinces, and subjects inclined to
rebellion, though incapable of freedom. But the obedience of the
Roman world was uniform, voluntary, and permanent. The vanquished
nations, blended into one great people, resigned the hope, nay,
even the wish, of resuming their independence, and scarcely
considered their own existence as distinct from the existence of
Rome. The established authority of the emperors pervaded without
an effort the wide extent of their dominions, and was exercised
with the same facility on the banks of the Thames, or of the
Nile, as on those of the Tyber. The legions were destined to
serve against the public enemy, and the civil magistrate seldom
required the aid of a military force. In this state of general
security, the leisure, as well as opulence, both of the prince
and people, were devoted to improve and to adorn the Roman
empire.
Among the innumerable monuments of architecture constructed by
the Romans, how many have escaped the notice of history, how few
have resisted the ravages of time and barbarism! And yet, even
the majestic ruins that are still scattered over Italy and the
provinces, would be sufficient to prove that those countries were
once the seat of a polite and powerful empire. Their greatness
alone, or their beauty, might deserve our attention: but they are
rendered more interesting, by two important circumstances, which
connect the agreeable history of the arts with the more useful
history of human manners. Many of those works were erected at
private expense, and almost all were intended for public
benefit.
It is natural to suppose that the greatest number, as well as
the most considerable of the Roman edifices, were raised by the
emperors, who possessed so unbounded a command both of men and
money. Augustus was accustomed to boast that he had found his
capital of brick, and that he had left it of marble. The strict
economy of Vespasian was the source of his magnificence. The
works of Trajan bear the stamp of his genius. The public
monuments with which Hadrian adorned every province of the
empire, were executed not only by his orders, but under his
immediate inspection. He was himself an artist; and he loved the
arts, as they conduced to the glory of the monarch. They were
encouraged by the Antonines, as they contributed to the happiness
of the people. But if the emperors were the first, they were not
the only architects of their dominions. Their example was
universally imitated by their principal subjects, who were not
afraid of declaring to the world that they had spirit to
conceive, and wealth to accomplish, the noblest undertakings.
Scarcely had the proud structure of the Coliseum been dedicated
at Rome, before the edifices, of a smaller scale indeed, but of
the same design and materials, were erected for the use, and at
the expense, of the cities of Capua and Verona. The inscription
of the stupendous bridge of Alcantara attests that it was thrown
over the Tagus by the contribution of a few Lusitanian
communities. When Pliny was intrusted with the government of
Bithynia and Pontus, provinces by no means the richest or most
considerable of the empire, he found the cities within his
jurisdiction striving with each other in every useful and
ornamental work, that might deserve the curiosity of strangers,
or the gratitude of their citizens. It was the duty of the
proconsul to supply their deficiencies, to direct their taste,
and sometimes to moderate their emulation. The opulent senators
of Rome and the provinces esteemed it an honor, and almost an
obligation, to adorn the splendor of their age and country; and
the influence of fashion very frequently supplied the want of
taste or generosity. Among a crowd of these private benefactors,
we may select Herodes Atticus, an Athenian citizen, who lived in
the age of the Antonines. Whatever might be the motive of his
conduct, his magnificence would have been worthy of the greatest
kings.
[See Theatre Of Marcellus: Augustus built in Rome the theatre
of Marcellus.]
The family of Herod, at least after it had been favored by
fortune, was lineally descended from Cimon and Miltiades, Theseus
and Cecrops, Æacus and Jupiter. But the posterity of so
many gods and heroes was fallen into the most abject state. His
grandfather had suffered by the hands of justice, and Julius
Atticus, his father, must have ended his life in poverty and
contempt, had he not discovered an immense treasure buried under
an old house, the last remains of his patrimony. According to the
rigor of the law, the emperor might have asserted his claim, and
the prudent Atticus prevented, by a frank confession, the
officiousness of informers. But the equitable Nerva, who then
filled the throne, refused to accept any part of it, and
commanded him to use, without scruple, the present of fortune.
The cautious Athenian still insisted, that the treasure was too
considerable for a subject, and that he knew not how to use
it. Abuse it then, replied the monarch, with a
good-natured peevishness; for it is your own. Many will be of
opinion, that Atticus literally obeyed the emperor's last
instructions; since he expended the greatest part of his fortune,
which was much increased by an advantageous marriage, in the
service of the public. He had obtained for his son Herod the
prefecture of the free cities of Asia; and the young magistrate,
observing that the town of Troas was indifferently supplied with
water, obtained from the munificence of Hadrian three hundred
myriads of drachms, (about a hundred thousand pounds,) for the
construction of a new aqueduct. But in the execution of the work,
the charge amounted to more than double the estimate, and the
officers of the revenue began to murmur, till the generous
Atticus silenced their complaints, by requesting that he might be
permitted to take upon himself the whole additional expense.
The ablest preceptors of Greece and Asia had been invited by
liberal rewards to direct the education of young Herod. Their
pupil soon became a celebrated orator, according to the useless
rhetoric of that age, which, confining itself to the schools,
disdained to visit either the Forum or the Senate. He was honored
with the consulship at Rome: but the greatest part of his life
was spent in a philosophic retirement at Athens, and his adjacent
villas; perpetually surrounded by sophists, who acknowledged,
without reluctance, the superiority of a rich and generous rival.
The monuments of his genius have perished; some considerable
ruins still preserve the fame of his taste and munificence:
modern travellers have measured the remains of the stadium which
he constructed at Athens. It was six hundred feet in length,
built entirely of white marble, capable of admitting the whole
body of the people, and finished in four years, whilst Herod was
president of the Athenian games. To the memory of his wife
Regilla he dedicated a theatre, scarcely to be paralleled in the
empire: no wood except cedar, very curiously carved, was employed
in any part of the building. The Odeum, * designed by Pericles
for musical performances, and the rehearsal of new tragedies, had
been a trophy of the victory of the arts over barbaric greatness;
as the timbers employed in the construction consisted chiefly of
the masts of the Persian vessels. Notwithstanding the repairs
bestowed on that ancient edifice by a king of Cappadocia, it was
again fallen to decay. Herod restored its ancient beauty and
magnificence. Nor was the liberality of that illustrious citizen
confined to the walls of Athens. The most splendid ornaments
bestowed on the temple of Neptune in the Isthmus, a theatre at
Corinth, a stadium at Delphi, a bath at Thermopylæ, and an
aqueduct at Canusium in Italy, were insufficient to exhaust his
treasures. The people of Epirus, Thessaly, Euboea, Boeotia, and
Peloponnesus, experienced his favors; and many inscriptions of
the cities of Greece and Asia gratefully style Herodes Atticus
their patron and benefactor.
In the commonwealths of Athens and Rome, the modest simplicity
of private houses announced the equal condition of freedom;
whilst the sovereignty of the people was represented in the
majestic edifices designed to the public use; nor was this
republican spirit totally extinguished by the introduction of
wealth and monarchy. It was in works of national honor and
benefit, that the most virtuous of the emperors affected to
display their magnificence. The golden palace of Nero excited a
just indignation, but the vast extent of ground which had been
usurped by his selfish luxury was more nobly filled under the
succeeding reigns by the Coliseum, the baths of Titus, the
Claudian portico, and the temples dedicated to the goddess of
Peace, and to the genius of Rome. These monuments of
architecture, the property of the Roman people, were adorned with
the most beautiful productions of Grecian painting and sculpture;
and in the temple of Peace, a very curious library was open to
the curiosity of the learned. * At a small distance from thence
was situated the Forum of Trajan. It was surrounded by a lofty
portico, in the form of a quadrangle, into which four triumphal
arches opened a noble and spacious entrance: in the centre arose
a column of marble, whose height, of one hundred and ten feet,
denoted the elevation of the hill that had been cut away. This
column, which still subsists in its ancient beauty, exhibited an
exact representation of the Dacian victories of its founder. The
veteran soldier contemplated the story of his own campaigns, and
by an easy illusion of national vanity, the peaceful citizen
associated himself to the honors of the triumph. All the other
quarters of the capital, and all the provinces of the empire,
were embellished by the same liberal spirit of public
magnificence, and were filled with amphi theatres, theatres,
temples, porticoes, triumphal arches, baths and aqueducts, all
variously conducive to the health, the devotion, and the
pleasures of the meanest citizen. The last mentioned of those
edifices deserve our peculiar attention. The boldness of the
enterprise, the solidity of the execution, and the uses to which
they were subservient, rank the aqueducts among the noblest
monuments of Roman genius and power. The aqueducts of the capital
claim a just preeminence; but the curious traveller, who, without
the light of history, should examine those of Spoleto, of Metz,
or of Segovia, would very naturally conclude that those
provincial towns had formerly been the residence of some potent
monarch. The solitudes of Asia and Africa were once covered with
flourishing cities, whose populousness, and even whose existence,
was derived from such artificial supplies of a perennial stream
of fresh water.
We have computed the inhabitants, and contemplated the public
works, of the Roman empire. The observation of the number and
greatness of its cities will serve to confirm the former, and to
multiply the latter. It may not be unpleasing to collect a few
scattered instances relative to that subject without forgetting,
however, that from the vanity of nations and the poverty of
language, the vague appellation of city has been indifferently
bestowed on Rome and upon Laurentum.
I. Ancient Italy is said to have contained eleven
hundred and ninety-seven cities; and for whatsoever æra of
antiquity the expression might be intended, there is not any
reason to believe the country less populous in the age of the
Antonines, than in that of Romulus. The petty states of Latium
were contained within the metropolis of the empire, by whose
superior influence they had been attracted. * Those parts of
Italy which have so long languished under the lazy tyranny of
priests and viceroys, had been afflicted only by the more
tolerable calamities of war; and the first symptoms of decay
which they experienced, were amply compensated by the rapid
improvements of the Cisalpine Gaul. The splendor of Verona may be
traced in its remains: yet Verona was less celebrated than
Aquileia or Padua, Milan or Ravenna. II. The spirit of
improvement had passed the Alps, and been felt even in the woods
of Britain, which were gradually cleared away to open a free
space for convenient and elegant habitations. York was the seat
of government; London was already enriched by commerce; and Bath
was celebrated for the salutary effects of its medicinal waters.
Gaul could boast of her twelve hundred cities; and though, in the
northern parts, many of them, without excepting Paris itself,
were little more than the rude and imperfect townships of a
rising people, the southern provinces imitated the wealth and
elegance of Italy. Many were the cities of Gaul, Marseilles,
Arles, Nismes, Narbonne, Thoulouse, Bourdeaux, Autun, Vienna,
Lyons, Langres, and Treves, whose ancient condition might sustain
an equal, and perhaps advantageous comparison with their present
state. With regard to Spain, that country flourished as a
province, and has declined as a kingdom. Exhausted by the abuse
of her strength, by America, and by superstition, her pride might
possibly be confounded, if we required such a list of three
hundred and sixty cities, as Pliny has exhibited under the reign
of Vespasian. III. Three hundred African cities had once
acknowledged the authority of Carthage, nor is it likely that
their numbers diminished under the administration of the
emperors: Carthage itself rose with new splendor from its ashes;
and that capital, as well as Capua and Corinth, soon recovered
all the advantages which can be separated from independent
sovereignty. IV. The provinces of the East present the contrast
of Roman magnificence with Turkish barbarism. The ruins of
antiquity scattered over uncultivated fields, and ascribed, by
ignorance to the power of magic, scarcely afford a shelter to the
oppressed peasant or wandering Arab. Under the reign of the
Cæsars, the proper Asia alone contained five hundred
populous cities, enriched with all the gifts of nature, and
adorned with all the refinements of art. Eleven cities of Asia
had once disputed the honor of dedicating a temple of Tiberius,
and their respective merits were examined by the senate. Four of
them were immediately rejected as unequal to the burden; and
among these was Laodicea, whose splendor is still displayed in
its ruins. Laodicea collected a very considerable revenue from
its flocks of sheep, celebrated for the fineness of their wool,
and had received, a little before the contest, a legacy of above
four hundred thousand pounds by the testament of a generous
citizen. If such was the poverty of Laodicea, what must have been
the wealth of those cities, whose claim appeared preferable, and
particularly of Pergamus, of Smyrna, and of Ephesus, who so long
disputed with each other the titular primacy of Asia? The
capitals of Syria and Egypt held a still superior rank in the
empire; Antioch and Alexandria looked down with disdain on a
crowd of dependent cities, and yielded, with reluctance, to the
majesty of Rome itself.
Chapter II: The Internal Prosperity In The Age Of
The Antonines. -- Part IV.
All these cities were connected with each other, and with the
capital, by the public highways, which, issuing from the Forum of
Rome, traversed Italy, pervaded the provinces, and were
terminated only by the frontiers of the empire. If we carefully
trace the distance from the wall of Antoninus to Rome, and from
thence to Jerusalem, it will be found that the great chain of
communication, from the north-west to the south-east point of the
empire, was drawn out to the length if four thousand and eighty
Roman miles. The public roads were accurately divided by
mile-stones, and ran in a direct line from one city to another,
with very little respect for the obstacles either of nature or
private property. Mountains were perforated, and bold arches
thrown over the broadest and most rapid streams. The middle part
of the road was raised into a terrace which commanded the
adjacent country, consisted of several strata of sand, gravel,
and cement, and was paved with large stones, or, in some places
near the capital, with granite. Such was the solid construction
of the Roman highways, whose firmness has not entirely yielded to
the effort of fifteen centuries. They united the subjects of the
most distant provinces by an easy and familiar intercourse; out
their primary object had been to facilitate the marches of the
legions; nor was any country considered as completely subdued,
till it had been rendered, in all its parts, pervious to the arms
and authority of the conqueror. The advantage of receiving the
earliest intelligence, and of conveying their orders with
celerity, induced the emperors to establish, throughout their
extensive dominions, the regular institution of posts. Houses
were every where erected at the distance only of five or six
miles; each of them was constantly provided with forty horses,
and by the help of these relays, it was easy to travel a hundred
miles in a day along the Roman roads. * The use of posts was
allowed to those who claimed it by an Imperial mandate; but
though originally intended for the public service, it was
sometimes indulged to the business or conveniency of private
citizens. Nor was the communication of the Roman empire less free
and open by sea than it was by land. The provinces surrounded and
enclosed the Mediterranean: and Italy, in the shape of an immense
promontory, advanced into the midst of that great lake. The
coasts of Italy are, in general, destitute of safe harbors; but
human industry had corrected the deficiencies of nature; and the
artificial port of Ostia, in particular, situate at the mouth of
the Tyber, and formed by the emperor Claudius, was a useful
monument of Roman greatness. From this port, which was only
sixteen miles from the capital, a favorable breeze frequently
carried vessels in seven days to the columns of Hercules, and in
nine or ten, to Alexandria in Egypt.
[See Remains Of Claudian Aquaduct]
Whatever evils either reason or declamation have imputed to
extensive empire, the power of Rome was attended with some
beneficial consequences to mankind; and the same freedom of
intercourse which extended the vices, diffused likewise the
improvements, of social life. In the more remote ages of
antiquity, the world was unequally divided. The East was in the
immemorial possession of arts and luxury; whilst the West was
inhabited by rude and warlike barbarians, who either disdained
agriculture, or to whom it was totally unknown. Under the
protection of an established government, the productions of
happier climates, and the industry of more civilized nations,
were gradually introduced into the western countries of Europe;
and the natives were encouraged, by an open and profitable
commerce, to multiply the former, as well as to improve the
latter. It would be almost impossible to enumerate all the
articles, either of the animal or the vegetable reign, which were
successively imported into Europe from Asia and Egypt: but it
will not be unworthy of the dignity, and much less of the
utility, of an historical work, slightly to touch on a few of the
principal heads. 1. Almost all the flowers, the herbs, and the
fruits, that grow in our European gardens, are of foreign
extraction, which, in many cases, is betrayed even by their
names: the apple was a native of Italy, and when the Romans had
tasted the richer flavor of the apricot, the peach, the
pomegranate, the citron, and the orange, they contented
themselves with applying to all these new fruits the common
denomination of apple, discriminating them from each other by the
additional epithet of their country. 2. In the time of Homer, the
vine grew wild in the island of Sicily, and most probably in the
adjacent continent; but it was not improved by the skill, nor did
it afford a liquor grateful to the taste, of the savage
inhabitants. A thousand years afterwards, Italy could boast, that
of the fourscore most generous and celebrated wines, more than
two thirds were produced from her soil. The blessing was soon
communicated to the Narbonnese province of Gaul; but so intense
was the cold to the north of the Cevennes, that, in the time of
Strabo, it was thought impossible to ripen the grapes in those
parts of Gaul. This difficulty, however, was gradually
vanquished; and there is some reason to believe, that the
vineyards of Burgundy are as old as the age of the Antonines. 3.
The olive, in the western world, followed the progress of peace,
of which it was considered as the symbol. Two centuries after the
foundation of Rome, both Italy and Africa were strangers to that
useful plant: it was naturalized in those countries; and at
length carried into the heart of Spain and Gaul. The timid errors
of the ancients, that it required a certain degree of heat, and
could only flourish in the neighborhood of the sea, were
insensibly exploded by industry and experience. 4. The
cultivation of flax was transported from Egypt to Gaul, and
enriched the whole country, however it might impoverish the
particular lands on which it was sown. 5. The use of artificial
grasses became familiar to the farmers both of Italy and the
provinces, particularly the Lucerne, which derived its name and
origin from Media. The assured supply of wholesome and plentiful
food for the cattle during winter, multiplied the number of the
docks and herds, which in their turn contributed to the fertility
of the soil. To all these improvements may be added an assiduous
attention to mines and fisheries, which, by employing a multitude
of laborious hands, serve to increase the pleasures of the rich
and the subsistence of the poor. The elegant treatise of
Columella describes the advanced state of the Spanish husbandry
under the reign of Tiberius; and it may be observed, that those
famines, which so frequently afflicted the infant republic, were
seldom or never experienced by the extensive empire of Rome. The
accidental scarcity, in any single province, was immediately
relieved by the plenty of its more fortunate neighbors.
Agriculture is the foundation of manufactures; since the
productions of nature are the materials of art. Under the Roman
empire, the labor of an industrious and ingenious people was
variously, but incessantly, employed in the service of the rich.
In their dress, their table, their houses, and their furniture,
the favorites of fortune united every refinement of conveniency,
of elegance, and of splendor, whatever could soothe their pride
or gratify their sensuality. Such refinements, under the odious
name of luxury, have been severely arraigned by the moralists of
every age; and it might perhaps be more conducive to the virtue,
as well as happiness, of mankind, if all possessed the
necessaries, and none the superfluities, of life. But in the
present imperfect condition of society, luxury, though it may
proceed from vice or folly, seems to be the only means that can
correct the unequal distribution of property. The diligent
mechanic, and the skilful artist, who have obtained no share in
the division of the earth, receive a voluntary tax from the
possessors of land; and the latter are prompted, by a sense of
interest, to improve those estates, with whose produce they may
purchase additional pleasures. This operation, the particular
effects of which are felt in every society, acted with much more
diffusive energy in the Roman world. The provinces would soon
have been exhausted of their wealth, if the manufactures and
commerce of luxury had not insensibly restored to the industrious
subjects the sums which were exacted from them by the arms and
authority of Rome. As long as the circulation was confined within
the bounds of the empire, it impressed the political machine with
a new degree of activity, and its consequences, sometimes
beneficial, could never become pernicious.
But it is no easy task to confine luxury within the limits of
an empire. The most remote countries of the ancient world were
ransacked to supply the pomp and delicacy of Rome. The forests of
Scythia afforded some valuable furs. Amber was brought over land
from the shores of the Baltic to the Danube; and the barbarians
were astonished at the price which they received in exchange for
so useless a commodity. There was a considerable demand for
Babylonian carpets, and other manufactures of the East; but the
most important and unpopular branch of foreign trade was carried
on with Arabia and India. Every year, about the time of the
summer solstice, a fleet of a hundred and twenty vessels sailed
from Myos-hormos, a port of Egypt, on the Red Sea. By the
periodical assistance of the monsoons, they traversed the ocean
in about forty days. The coast of Malabar, or the island of
Ceylon, was the usual term of their navigation, and it was in
those markets that the merchants from the more remote countries
of Asia expected their arrival. The return of the fleet of Egypt
was fixed to the months of December or January; and as soon as
their rich cargo had been transported on the backs of camels,
from the Red Sea to the Nile, and had descended that river as far
as Alexandria, it was poured, without delay, into the capital of
the empire. The objects of oriental traffic were splendid and
trifling; silk, a pound of which was esteemed not inferior in
value to a pound of gold; precious stones, among which the pearl
claimed the first rank after the diamond; and a variety of
aromatics, that were consumed in religious worship and the pomp
of funerals. The labor and risk of the voyage was rewarded with
almost incredible profit; but the profit was made upon Roman
subjects, and a few individuals were enriched at the expense of
the public. As the natives of Arabia and India were contented
with the productions and manufactures of their own country,
silver, on the side of the Romans, was the principal, if not the
only * instrument of commerce. It was a complaint worthy of the
gravity of the senate, that, in the purchase of female ornaments,
the wealth of the state was irrecoverably given away to foreign
and hostile nations. The annual loss is computed, by a writer of
an inquisitive but censorious temper, at upwards of eight hundred
thousand pounds sterling. Such was the style of discontent,
brooding over the dark prospect of approaching poverty. And yet,
if we compare the proportion between gold and silver, as it stood
in the time of Pliny, and as it was fixed in the reign of
Constantine, we shall discover within that period a very
considerable increase. There is not the least reason to suppose
that gold was become more scarce; it is therefore evident that
silver was grown more common; that whatever might be the amount
of the Indian and Arabian exports, they were far from exhausting
the wealth of the Roman world; and that the produce of the mines
abundantly supplied the demands of commerce.
Notwithstanding the propensity of mankind to exalt the past,
and to depreciate the present, the tranquil and prosperous state
of the empire was warmly felt, and honestly confessed, by the
provincials as well as Romans. "They acknowledged that the true
principles of social life, laws, agriculture, and science, which
had been first invented by the wisdom of Athens, were now firmly
established by the power of Rome, under whose auspicious
influence the fiercest barbarians were united by an equal
government and common language. They affirm, that with the
improvement of arts, the human species were visibly multiplied.
They celebrate the increasing splendor of the cities, the
beautiful face of the country, cultivated and adorned like an
immense garden; and the long festival of peace which was enjoyed
by so many nations, forgetful of the ancient animosities, and
delivered from the apprehension of future danger." Whatever
suspicions may be suggested by the air of rhetoric and
declamation, which seems to prevail in these passages, the
substance of them is perfectly agreeable to historic truth.
It was scarcely possible that the eyes of contemporaries
should discover in the public felicity the latent causes of decay
and corruption. This long peace, and the uniform government of
the Romans, introduced a slow and secret poison into the vitals
of the empire. The minds of men were gradually reduced to the
same level, the fire of genius was extinguished, and even the
military spirit evaporated. The natives of Europe were brave and
robust. Spain, Gaul, Britain, and Illyricum supplied the legions
with excellent soldiers, and constituted the real strength of the
monarchy. Their personal valor remained, but they no longer
possessed that public courage which is nourished by the love of
independence, the sense of national honor, the presence of
danger, and the habit of command. They received laws and
governors from the will of their sovereign, and trusted for their
defence to a mercenary army. The posterity of their boldest
leaders was contented with the rank of citizens and subjects. The
most aspiring spirits resorted to the court or standard of the
emperors; and the deserted provinces, deprived of political
strength or union, insensibly sunk into the languid indifference
of private life.
The love of letters, almost inseparable from peace and
refinement, was fashionable among the subjects of Hadrian and the
Antonines, who were themselves men of learning and curiosity. It
was diffused over the whole extent of their empire; the most
northern tribes of Britons had acquired a taste for rhetoric;
Homer as well as Virgil were transcribed and studied on the banks
of the Rhine and Danube; and the most liberal rewards sought out
the faintest glimmerings of literary merit. The sciences of
physic and astronomy were successfully cultivated by the Greeks;
the observations of Ptolemy and the writings of Galen are studied
by those who have improved their discoveries and corrected their
errors; but if we except the inimitable Lucian, this age of
indolence passed away without having produced a single writer of
original genius, or who excelled in the arts of elegant
composition. ^! The authority of Plato and Aristotle, of Zeno and
Epicurus, still reigned in the schools; and their systems,
transmitted with blind deference from one generation of disciples
to another, precluded every generous attempt to exercise the
powers, or enlarge the limits, of the human mind. The beauties of
the poets and orators, instead of kindling a fire like their own,
inspired only cold and servile mitations: or if any ventured to
deviate from those models, they deviated at the same time from
good sense and propriety. On the revival of letters, the youthful
vigor of the imagination, after a long repose, national
emulation, a new religion, new languages, and a new world, called
forth the genius of Europe. But the provincials of Rome, trained
by a uniform artificial foreign education, were engaged in a very
unequal competition with those bold ancients, who, by expressing
their genuine feelings in their native tongue, had already
occupied every place of honor. The name of Poet was almost
forgotten; that of Orator was usurped by the sophists. A cloud of
critics, of compilers, of commentators, darkened the face of
learning, and the decline of genius was soon followed by the
corruption of taste.
The sublime Longinus, who, in somewhat a later period, and in
the court of a Syrian queen, preserved the spirit of ancient
Athens, observes and laments this degeneracy of his
contemporaries, which debased their sentiments, enervated their
courage, and depressed their talents. "In the same manner," says
he, "as some children always remain pygmies, whose infant limbs
have been too closely confined, thus our tender minds, fettered
by the prejudices and habits of a just servitude, are unable to
expand themselves, or to attain that well-proportioned greatness
which we admire in the ancients; who, living under a popular
government, wrote with the same freedom as they acted." This
diminutive stature of mankind, if we pursue the metaphor, was
daily sinking below the old standard, and the Roman world was
indeed peopled by a race of pygmies; when the fierce giants of
the north broke in, and mended the puny breed. They restored a
manly spirit of freedom; and after the revolution of ten
centuries, freedom became the happy parent of taste and
science.
Chapter III: The Constitution In The Age Of The Antonines.
Part I.
Of The Constitution Of The Roman Empire, In The Age Of The
Antonines.
The obvious definition of a monarchy seems to be that of a
state, in which a single person, by whatsoever name he may be
distinguished, is intrusted with the execution of the laws, the
management of the revenue, and the command of the army. But,
unless public liberty is protected by intrepid and vigilant
guardians, the authority of so formidable a magistrate will soon
degenerate into despotism. The influence of the clergy, in an age
of superstition, might be usefully employed to assert the rights
of mankind; but so intimate is the connection between the throne
and the altar, that the banner of the church has very seldom been
seen on the side of the people. * A martial nobility and stubborn
commons, possessed of arms, tenacious of property, and collected
into constitutional assemblies, form the only balance capable of
preserving a free constitution against enterprises of an aspiring
prince.
Every barrier of the Roman constitution had been levelled by
the vast ambition of the dictator; every fence had been
extirpated by the cruel hand of the triumvir. After the victory
of Actium, the fate of the Roman world depended on the will of
Octavianus, surnamed Cæsar, by his uncle's adoption, and
afterwards Augustus, by the flattery of the senate. The conqueror
was at the head of forty-four veteran legions, conscious of their
own strength, and of the weakness of the constitution,
habituated, during twenty years' civil war, to every act of blood
and violence, and passionately devoted to the house of
Cæsar, from whence alone they had received, and expected
the most lavish rewards. The provinces, long oppressed by the
ministers of the republic, sighed for the government of a single
person, who would be the master, not the accomplice, of those
petty tyrants. The people of Rome, viewing, with a secret
pleasure, the humiliation of the aristocracy, demanded only bread
and public shows; and were supplied with both by the liberal hand
of Augustus. The rich and polite Italians, who had almost
universally embraced the philosophy of Epicurus, enjoyed the
present blessings of ease and tranquillity, and suffered not the
pleasing dream to be interrupted by the memory of their old
tumultuous freedom. With its power, the senate had lost its
dignity; many of the most noble families were extinct. The
republicans of spirit and ability had perished in the field of
battle, or in the proscription . The door of the assembly had
been designedly left open, for a mixed multitude of more than a
thousand persons, who reflected disgrace upon their rank, instead
of deriving honor from it.
The reformation of the senate was one of the first steps in
which Augustus laid aside the tyrant, and professed himself the
father of his country. He was elected censor; and, in concert
with his faithful Agrippa, he examined the list of the senators,
expelled a few members, * whose vices or whose obstinacy required
a public example, persuaded near two hundred to prevent the shame
of an expulsion by a voluntary retreat, raised the qualification
of a senator to about ten thousand pounds, created a sufficient
number of patrician families, and accepted for himself the
honorable title of Prince of the Senate, which had always been
bestowed, by the censors, on the citizen the most eminent for his
honors and services. But whilst he thus restored the dignity, he
destroyed the independence, of the senate. The principles of a
free constitution are irrecoverably lost, when the legislative
power is nominated by the executive.
Before an assembly thus modelled and prepared, Augustus
pronounced a studied oration, which displayed his patriotism, and
disguised his ambition. "He lamented, yet excused, his past
conduct. Filial piety had required at his hands the revenge of
his father's murder; the humanity of his own nature had sometimes
given way to the stern laws of necessity, and to a forced
connection with two unworthy colleagues: as long as Antony lived,
the republic forbade him to abandon her to a degenerate Roman,
and a barbarian queen. He was now at liberty to satisfy his duty
and his inclination. He solemnly restored the senate and people
to all their ancient rights; and wished only to mingle with the
crowd of his fellow-citizens, and to share the blessings which he
had obtained for his country."
It would require the pen of Tacitus (if Tacitus had assisted
at this assembly) to describe the various emotions of the senate,
those that were suppressed, and those that were affected. It was
dangerous to trust the sincerity of Augustus; to seem to distrust
it was still more dangerous. The respective advantages of
monarchy and a republic have often divided speculative inquirers;
the present greatness of the Roman state, the corruption of
manners, and the license of the soldiers, supplied new arguments
to the advocates of monarchy; and these general views of
government were again warped by the hopes and fears of each
individual. Amidst this confusion of sentiments, the answer of
the senate was unanimous and decisive. They refused to accept the
resignation of Augustus; they conjured him not to desert the
republic, which he had saved. After a decent resistance, the
crafty tyrant submitted to the orders of the senate; and
consented to receive the government of the provinces, and the
general command of the Roman armies, under the well-known names
of Proconsul and Imperator. But he would receive them only for
ten years. Even before the expiration of that period, he hope
that the wounds of civil discord would be completely healed, and
that the republic, restored to its pristine health and vigor,
would no longer require the dangerous interposition of so
extraordinary a magistrate. The memory of this comedy, repeated
several times during the life of Augustus, was preserved to the
last ages of the empire, by the peculiar pomp with which the
perpetual monarchs of Rome always solemnized the tenth years of
their reign.
Without any violation of the principles of the constitution,
the general of the Roman armies might receive and exercise an
authority almost despotic over the soldiers, the enemies, and the
subjects of the republic. With regard to the soldiers, the
jealousy of freedom had, even from the earliest ages of Rome,
given way to the hopes of conquest, and a just sense of military
discipline. The dictator, or consul, had a right to command the
service of the Roman youth; and to punish an obstinate or
cowardly disobedience by the most severe and ignominious
penalties, by striking the offender out of the list of citizens,
by confiscating his property, and by selling his person into
slavery. The most sacred rights of freedom, confirmed by the
Porcian and Sempronian laws, were suspended by the military
engagement. In his camp the general exercise an absolute power of
life and death; his jurisdiction was not confined by any forms of
trial, or rules of proceeding, and the execution of the sentence
was immediate and without appeal. The choice of the enemies of
Rome was regularly decided by the legislative authority. The most
important resolutions of peace and war were seriously debated in
the senate, and solemnly ratified by the people. But when the
arms of the legions were carried to a great distance from Italy,
the general assumed the liberty of directing them against
whatever people, and in whatever manner, they judged most
advantageous for the public service. It was from the success, not
from the justice, of their enterprises, that they expected the
honors of a triumph. In the use of victory, especially after they
were no longer controlled by the commissioners of the senate,
they exercised the most unbounded despotism. When Pompey
commanded in the East, he rewarded his soldiers and allies,
dethroned princes, divided kingdoms, founded colonies, and
distributed the treasures of Mithridates. On his return to Rome,
he obtained, by a single act of the senate and people, the
universal ratification of all his proceedings. Such was the power
over the soldiers, and over the enemies of Rome, which was either
granted to, or assumed by, the generals of the republic. They
were, at the same time, the governors, or rather monarchs, of the
conquered provinces, united the civil with the military
character, administered justice as well as the finances, and
exercised both the executive and legislative power of the
state.
From what has already been observed in the first chapter of
this work, some notion may be formed of the armies and provinces
thus intrusted to the ruling hand of Augustus. But as it was
impossible that he could personally command the regions of so
many distant frontiers, he was indulged by the senate, as Pompey
had already been, in the permission of devolving the execution of
his great office on a sufficient number of lieutenants. In rank
and authority these officers seemed not inferior to the ancient
proconsuls; but their station was dependent and precarious. They
received and held their commissions at the will of a superior, to
whose auspicious influence the merit of their action was
legally attributed. They were the representatives of the emperor.
The emperor alone was the general of the republic, and his
jurisdiction, civil as well as military, extended over all the
conquests of Rome. It was some satisfaction, however, to the
senate, that he always delegated his power to the members of
their body. The imperial lieutenants were of consular or
prætorian dignity; the legions were commanded by senators,
and the præfecture of Egypt was the only important trust
committed to a Roman knight.
Within six days after Augustus had been compelled to accept so
very liberal a grant, he resolved to gratify the pride of the
senate by an easy sacrifice. He represented to them, that they
had enlarged his powers, even beyond that degree which might be
required by the melancholy condition of the times. They had not
permitted him to refuse the laborious command of the armies and
the frontiers; but he must insist on being allowed to restore the
more peaceful and secure provinces to the mild administration of
the civil magistrate. In the division of the provinces, Augustus
provided for his own power and for the dignity of the republic.
The proconsuls of the senate, particularly those of Asia, Greece,
and Africa, enjoyed a more honorable character than the
lieutenants of the emperor, who commanded in Gaul or Syria. The
former were attended by lictors, the latter by soldiers. * A law
was passed, that wherever the emperor was present, his
extraordinary commission should supersede the ordinary
jurisdiction of the governor; a custom was introduced, that the
new conquests belonged to the imperial portion; and it was soon
discovered that the authority of the Prince, the
favorite epithet of Augustus, was the same in every part of the
empire.
In return for this imaginary concession, Augustus obtained an
important privilege, which rendered him master of Rome and Italy.
By a dangerous exception to the ancient maxims, he was authorized
to preserve his military command, supported by a numerous body of
guards, even in time of peace, and in the heart of the capital.
His command, indeed, was confined to those citizens who were
engaged in the service by the military oath; but such was the
propensity of the Romans to servitude, that the oath was
voluntarily taken by the magistrates, the senators, and the
equestrian order, till the homage of flattery was insensibly
converted into an annual and solemn protestation of fidelity.
Although Augustus considered a military force as the firmest
foundation, he wisely rejected it, as a very odious instrument of
government. It was more agreeable to his temper, as well as to
his policy, to reign under the venerable names of ancient
magistracy, and artfully to collect, in his own person, all the
scattered rays of civil jurisdiction. With this view, he
permitted the senate to confer upon him, for his life, the powers
of the consular and tribunitian offices, which were, in the same
manner, continued to all his successors. The consuls had
succeeded to the kings of Rome, and represented the dignity of
the state. They superintended the ceremonies of religion, levied
and commanded the legions, gave audience to foreign ambassadors,
and presided in the assemblies both of the senate and people. The
general control of the finances was intrusted to their care; and
though they seldom had leisure to administer justice in person,
they were considered as the supreme guardians of law, equity, and
the public peace. Such was their ordinary jurisdiction; but
whenever the senate empowered the first magistrate to consult the
safety of the commonwealth, he was raised by that decree above
the laws, and exercised, in the defence of liberty, a temporary
despotism. The character of the tribunes was, in every respect,
different from that of the consuls. The appearance of the former
was modest and humble; but their persons were sacred and
inviolable. Their force was suited rather for opposition than for
action. They were instituted to defend the oppressed, to pardon
offences, to arraign the enemies of the people, and, when they
judged it necessary, to stop, by a single word, the whole machine
of government. As long as the republic subsisted, the dangerous
influence, which either the consul or the tribune might derive
from their respective jurisdiction, was diminished by several
important restrictions. Their authority expired with the year in
which they were elected; the former office was divided between
two, the latter among ten persons; and, as both in their private
and public interest they were averse to each other, their mutual
conflicts contributed, for the most part, to strengthen rather
than to destroy the balance of the constitution. * But when the
consular and tribunitian powers were united, when they were
vested for life in a single person, when the general of the army
was, at the same time, the minister of the senate and the
representative of the Roman people, it was impossible to resist
the exercise, nor was it easy to define the limits, of his
imperial prerogative.
To these accumulated honors, the policy of Augustus soon added
the splendid as well as important dignities of supreme pontiff,
and of censor. By the former he acquired the management of the
religion, and by the latter a legal inspection over the manners
and fortunes, of the Roman people. If so many distinct and
independent powers did not exactly unite with each other, the
complaisance of the senate was prepared to supply every
deficiency by the most ample and extraordinary concessions. The
emperors, as the first ministers of the republic, were exempted
from the obligation and penalty of many inconvenient laws: they
were authorized to convoke the senate, to make several motions in
the same day, to recommend candidates for the honors of the
state, to enlarge the bounds of the city, to employ the revenue
at their discretion, to declare peace and war, to ratify
treaties; and by a most comprehensive clause, they were empowered
to execute whatsoever they should judge advantageous to the
empire, and agreeable to the majesty of things private or public,
human of divine.
When all the various powers of executive government were
committed to the Imperial magistrate, the ordinary
magistrates of the commonwealth languished in obscurity, without
vigor, and almost without business. The names and forms of the
ancient administration were preserved by Augustus with the most
anxious care. The usual number of consuls, prætors, and
tribunes, were annually invested with their respective ensigns of
office, and continued to discharge some of their least important
functions. Those honors still attracted the vain ambition of the
Romans; and the emperors themselves, though invested for life
with the powers of the consul ship, frequently aspired to the
title of that annual dignity, which they condescended to share
with the most illustrious of their fellow-citizens. In the
election of these magistrates, the people, during the reign of
Augustus, were permitted to expose all the inconveniences of a
wild democracy. That artful prince, instead of discovering the
least symptom of impatience, humbly solicited their suffrages for
himself or his friends, and scrupulously practised all the duties
of an ordinary candidate. But we may venture to ascribe to his
councils the first measure of the succeeding reign, by which the
elections were transferred to the senate. The assemblies of the
people were forever abolished, and the emperors were delivered
from a dangerous multitude, who, without restoring liberty, might
have disturbed, and perhaps endangered, the established
government.
By declaring themselves the protectors of the people, Marius
and Cæsar had subverted the constitution of their country.
But as soon as the senate had been humbled and disarmed, such an
assembly, consisting of five or six hundred persons, was found a
much more tractable and useful instrument of dominion. It was on
the dignity of the senate that Augustus and his successors
founded their new empire; and they affected, on every occasion,
to adopt the language and principles of Patricians. In the
administration of their own powers, they frequently consulted the
great national council, and seemed to refer to its
decision the most important concerns of peace and war. Rome,
Italy, and the internal provinces, were subject to the immediate
jurisdiction of the senate. With regard to civil objects, it was
the supreme court of appeal; with regard to criminal matters, a
tribunal, constituted for the trial of all offences that were
committed by men in any public station, or that affected the
peace and majesty of the Roman people. The exercise of the
judicial power became the most frequent and serious occupation of
the senate; and the important causes that were pleaded before
them afforded a last refuge to the spirit of ancient eloquence.
As a council of state, and as a court of justice, the senate
possessed very considerable prerogatives; but in its legislative
capacity, in which it was supposed virtually to represent the
people, the rights of sovereignty were acknowledged to reside in
that assembly. Every power was derived from their authority,
every law was ratified by their sanction. Their regular meetings
were held on three stated days in every month, the Calends, the
Nones, and the Ides. The debates were conducted with decent
freedom; and the emperors themselves, who gloried in the name of
senators, sat, voted, and divided with their equals.
To resume, in a few words, the system of the Imperial
government; as it was instituted by Augustus, and maintained by
those princes who understood their own interest and that of the
people, it may be defined an absolute monarchy disguised by the
forms of a commonwealth. The masters of the Roman world
surrounded their throne with darkness, concealed their
irresistible strength, and humbly professed themselves the
accountable ministers of the senate, whose supreme decrees they
dictated and obeyed.
The face of the court corresponded with the forms of the
administration. The emperors, if we except those tyrants whose
capricious folly violated every law of nature and decency,
disdained that pomp and ceremony which might offend their
countrymen, but could add nothing to their real power. In all the
offices of life, they affected to confound themselves with their
subjects, and maintained with them an equal intercourse of visits
and entertainments. Their habit, their palace, their table, were
suited only to the rank of an opulent senator. Their family,
however numerous or splendid, was composed entirely of their
domestic slaves and freedmen. Augustus or Trajan would have
blushed at employing the meanest of the Romans in those menial
offices, which, in the household and bedchamber of a limited
monarch, are so eagerly solicited by the proudest nobles of
Britain.
The deification of the emperors is the only instance in which
they departed from their accustomed prudence and modesty. The
Asiatic Greeks were the first inventors, the successors of
Alexander the first objects, of this servile and impious mode of
adulation. * It was easily transferred from the kings to the
governors of Asia; and the Roman magistrates very frequently were
adored as provincial deities, with the pomp of altars and
temples, of festivals and sacrifices. It was natural that the
emperors should not refuse what the proconsuls had accepted; and
the divine honors which both the one and the other received from
the provinces, attested rather the despotism than the servitude
of Rome. But the conquerors soon imitated the vanquished nations
in the arts of flattery; and the imperious spirit of the first
Cæsar too easily consented to assume, during his lifetime,
a place among the tutelar deities of Rome. The milder temper of
his successor declined so dangerous an ambition, which was never
afterwards revived, except by the madness of Caligula and
Domitian. Augustus permitted indeed some of the provincial cities
to erect temples to his honor, on condition that they should
associate the worship of Rome with that of the sovereign; he
tolerated private superstition, of which he might be the object;
but he contented himself with being revered by the senate and the
people in his human character, and wisely left to his successor
the care of his public deification. A regular custom was
introduced, that on the decease of every emperor who had neither
lived nor died like a tyrant, the senate by a solemn decree
should place him in the number of the gods: and the ceremonies of
his apotheosis were blended with those of his funeral. This
legal, and, as it should seem, injudicious profanation, so
abhorrent to our stricter principles, was received with a very
faint murmur, by the easy nature of Polytheism; but it was
received as an institution, not of religion, but of policy. We
should disgrace the virtues of the Antonines by comparing them
with the vices of Hercules or Jupiter. Even the characters of
Cæsar or Augustus were far superior to those of the popular
deities. But it was the misfortune of the former to live in an
enlightened age, and their actions were too faithfully recorded
to admit of such a mixture of fable and mystery, as the devotion
of the vulgar requires. As soon as their divinity was established
by law, it sunk into oblivion, without contributing either to
their own fame, or to the dignity of succeeding princes.
In the consideration of the Imperial government, we have
frequently mentioned the artful founder, under his well-known
title of Augustus, which was not, however, conferred upon him
till the edifice was almost completed. The obscure name of
Octavianus he derived from a mean family, in the little town of
Aricia. It was stained with the blood of the proscription; and he
was desirous, had it been possible, to erase all memory of his
former life. The illustrious surname of Cæsar he had
assumed, as the adopted son of the dictator: but he had too much
good sense, either to hope to be confounded, or to wish to be
compared with that extraordinary man. It was proposed in the
senate to dignify their minister with a new appellation; and
after a serious discussion, that of Augustus was chosen, among
several others, as being the most expressive of the character of
peace and sanctity, which he uniformly affected.
Augustus was therefore a personal, Cæsar
a family distinction. The former should naturally have expired
with the prince on whom it was bestowed; and however the latter
was diffused by adoption and female alliance, Nero was the last
prince who could allege any hereditary claim to the honors of the
Julian line. But, at the time of his death, the practice of a
century had inseparably connected those appellations with the
Imperial dignity, and they have been preserved by a long
succession of emperors, Romans, Greeks, Franks, and Germans, from
the fall of the republic to the present time. A distinction was,
however, soon introduced. The sacred title of Augustus was always
reserved for the monarch, whilst the name of Cæsar was more
freely communicated to his relations; and, from the reign of
Hadrian, at least, was appropriated to the second person in the
state, who was considered as the presumptive heir of the empire.
*
Chapter III: The Constitution In The Age Of The
Antonines. -- Part II.
The tender respect of Augustus for a free constitution which
he had destroyed, can only be explained by an attentive
consideration of the character of that subtle tyrant. A cool
head, an unfeeling heart, and a cowardly disposition, prompted
him at the age of nineteen to assume the mask of hypocrisy, which
he never afterwards laid aside. With the same hand, and probably
with the same temper, he signed the proscription of Cicero, and
the pardon of Cinna. His virtues, and even his vices, were
artificial; and according to the various dictates of his
interest, he was at first the enemy, and at last the father, of
the Roman world. When he framed the artful system of the Imperial
authority, his moderation was inspired by his fears. He wished to
deceive the people by an image of civil liberty, and the armies
by an image of civil government.
I. The death of Cæsar was ever before his eyes. He had
lavished wealth and honors on his adherents; but the most favored
friends of his uncle were in the number of the conspirators. The
fidelity of the legions might defend his authority against open
rebellion; but their vigilance could not secure his person from
the dagger of a determined republican; and the Romans, who
revered the memory of Brutus, would applaud the imitation of his
virtue. Cæsar had provoked his fate, as much as by the
ostentation of his power, as by his power itself. The consul or
the tribune might have reigned in peace. The title of king had
armed the Romans against his life. Augustus was sensible that
mankind is governed by names; nor was he deceived in his
expectation, that the senate and people would submit to slavery,
provided they were respectfully assured that they still enjoyed
their ancient freedom. A feeble senate and enervated people
cheerfully acquiesced in the pleasing illusion, as long as it was
supported by the virtue, or even by the prudence, of the
successors of Augustus. It was a motive of self-preservation, not
a principle of liberty, that animated the conspirators against
Caligula, Nero, and Domitian. They attacked the person of the
tyrant, without aiming their blow at the authority of the
emperor.
There appears, indeed, one memorable occasion, in
which the senate, after seventy years of patience, made an
ineffectual attempt to re-assume its long-forgotten rights. When
the throne was vacant by the murder of Caligula, the consuls
convoked that assembly in the Capitol, condemned the memory of
the Cæsars, gave the watchword liberty to the few
cohorts who faintly adhered to their standard, and during
eight-and-forty hours acted as the independent chiefs of a free
commonwealth. But while they deliberated, the prætorian
guards had resolved. The stupid Claudius, brother of Germanicus,
was already in their camp, invested with the Imperial purple, and
prepared to support his election by arms. The dream of liberty
was at an end; and the senate awoke to all the horrors of
inevitable servitude. Deserted by the people, and threatened by a
military force, that feeble assembly was compelled to ratify the
choice of the prætorians, and to embrace the benefit of an
amnesty, which Claudius had the prudence to offer, and the
generosity to observe.
[See The Capitol: When the throne was vacant by the murder of
Caligula, the consuls convoked that assembly in the Capitol.]
II. The insolence of the armies inspired Augustus with fears
of a still more alarming nature. The despair of the citizens
could only attempt, what the power of the soldiers was, at any
time, able to execute. How precarious was his own authority over
men whom he had taught to violate every social duty! He had heard
their seditious clamors; he dreaded their calmer moments of
reflection. One revolution had been purchased by immense rewards;
but a second revolution might double those rewards. The troops
professed the fondest attachment to the house of Cæsar; but
the attachments of the multitude are capricious and inconstant.
Augustus summoned to his aid whatever remained in those fierce
minds of Roman prejudices; enforced the rigor of discipline by
the sanction of law; and, interposing the majesty of the senate
between the emperor and the army, boldly claimed their
allegiance, as the first magistrate of the republic.
During a long period of two hundred and twenty years from the
establishment of this artful system to the death of Commodus, the
dangers inherent to a military government were, in a great
measure, suspended. The soldiers were seldom roused to that fatal
sense of their own strength, and of the weakness of the civil
authority, which was, before and afterwards, productive of such
dreadful calamities. Caligula and Domitian were assassinated in
their palace by their own domestics: * the convulsions which
agitated Rome on the death of the former, were confined to the
walls of the city. But Nero involved the whole empire in his
ruin. In the space of eighteen months, four princes perished by
the sword; and the Roman world was shaken by the fury of the
contending armies. Excepting only this short, though violent
eruption of military license, the two centuries from Augustus to
Commodus passed away unstained with civil blood, and undisturbed
by revolutions. The emperor was elected by the authority of
the senate, and the consent of the soldiers. The legions
respected their oath of fidelity; and it requires a minute
inspection of the Roman annals to discover three inconsiderable
rebellions, which were all suppressed in a few months, and
without even the hazard of a battle.
In elective monarchies, the vacancy of the throne is a moment
big with danger and mischief. The Roman emperors, desirous to
spare the legions that interval of suspense, and the temptation
of an irregular choice, invested their designed successor with so
large a share of present power, as should enable him, after their
decease, to assume the remainder, without suffering the empire to
perceive the change of masters. Thus Augustus, after all his
fairer prospects had been snatched from him by untimely deaths,
rested his last hopes on Tiberius, obtained for his adopted son
the censorial and tribunitian powers, and dictated a law, by
which the future prince was invested with an authority equal to
his own, over the provinces and the armies. Thus Vespasian
subdued the generous mind of his eldest son. Titus was adored by
the eastern legions, which, under his command, had recently
achieved the conquest of Judæa. His power was dreaded, and,
as his virtues were clouded by the intemperance of youth, his
designs were suspected. Instead of listening to such unworthy
suspicions, the prudent monarch associated Titus to the full
powers of the Imperial dignity; and the grateful son ever
approved himself the humble and faithful minister of so indulgent
a father.
The good sense of Vespasian engaged him indeed to embrace
every measure that might confirm his recent and precarious
elevation. The military oath, and the fidelity of the troops, had
been consecrated, by the habits of a hundred years, to the name
and family of the Cæsars; and although that family had been
continued only by the fictitious rite of adoption, the Romans
still revered, in the person of Nero, the grandson of Germanicus,
and the lineal successor of Augustus. It was not without
reluctance and remorse, that the prætorian guards had been
persuaded to abandon the cause of the tyrant. The rapid downfall
of Galba, Otho, and Vitellus, taught the armies to consider the
emperors as the creatures of their will, and the
instruments of their license. The birth of Vespasian was
mean: his grandfather had been a private soldier, his father a
petty officer of the revenue; his own merit had raised him, in an
advanced age, to the empire; but his merit was rather useful than
shining, and his virtues were disgraced by a strict and even
sordid parsimony. Such a prince consulted his true interest by
the association of a son, whose more splendid and amiable
character might turn the public attention from the obscure
origin, to the future glories, of the Flavian house. Under the
mild administration of Titus, the Roman world enjoyed a transient
felicity, and his beloved memory served to protect, above fifteen
years, the vices of his brother Domitian.
Nerva had scarcely accepted the purple from the assassins of
Domitian, before he discovered that his feeble age was unable to
stem the torrent of public disorders, which had multiplied under
the long tyranny of his predecessor. His mild disposition was
respected by the good; but the degenerate Romans required a more
vigorous character, whose justice should strike terror into the
guilty. Though he had several relations, he fixed his choice on a
stranger. He adopted Trajan, then about forty years of age, and
who commanded a powerful army in the Lower Germany; and
immediately, by a decree of the senate, declared him his
colleague and successor in the empire. It is sincerely to be
lamented, that whilst we are fatigued with the disgustful
relation of Nero's crimes and follies, we are reduced to collect
the actions of Trajan from the glimmerings of an abridgment, or
the doubtful light of a panegyric. There remains, however, one
panegyric far removed beyond the suspicion of flattery. Above two
hundred and fifty years after the death of Trajan, the senate, in
pouring out the customary acclamations on the accession of a new
emperor, wished that he might surpass the felicity of Augustus,
and the virtue of Trajan.
We may readily believe, that the father of his country
hesitated whether he ought to intrust the various and doubtful
character of his kinsman Hadrian with sovereign power. In his
last moments the arts of the empress Plotina either fixed the
irresolution of Trajan, or boldly supposed a fictitious adoption;
the truth of which could not be safely disputed, and Hadrian was
peaceably acknowledged as his lawful successor. Under his reign,
as has been already mentioned, the empire flourished in peace and
prosperity. He encouraged the arts, reformed the laws, asserted
military discipline, and visited all his provinces in person. His
vast and active genius was equally suited to the most enlarged
views, and the minute details of civil policy. But the ruling
passions of his soul were curiosity and vanity. As they
prevailed, and as they were attracted by different objects,
Hadrian was, by turns, an excellent prince, a ridiculous sophist,
and a jealous tyrant. The general tenor of his conduct deserved
praise for its equity and moderation. Yet in the first days of
his reign, he put to death four consular senators, his personal
enemies, and men who had been judged worthy of empire; and the
tediousness of a painful illness rendered him, at last, peevish
and cruel. The senate doubted whether they should pronounce him a
god or a tyrant; and the honors decreed to his memory were
granted to the prayers of the pious Antoninus.
The caprice of Hadrian influenced his choice of a successor.
After revolving in his mind several men of distinguished merit,
whom he esteemed and hated, he adopted Ælius Verus a gay
and voluptuous nobleman, recommended by uncommon beauty to the
lover of Antinous. But whilst Hadrian was delighting himself with
his own applause, and the acclamations of the soldiers, whose
consent had been secured by an immense donative, the new
Cæsar was ravished from his embraces by an untimely death.
He left only one son. Hadrian commended the boy to the gratitude
of the Antonines. He was adopted by Pius; and, on the accession
of Marcus, was invested with an equal share of sovereign power.
Among the many vices of this younger Verus, he possessed one
virtue; a dutiful reverence for his wiser colleague, to whom he
willingly abandoned the ruder cares of empire. The philosophic
emperor dissembled his follies, lamented his early death, and
cast a decent veil over his memory.
As soon as Hadrian's passion was either gratified or
disappointed, he resolved to deserve the thanks of posterity, by
placing the most exalted merit on the Roman throne. His
discerning eye easily discovered a senator about fifty years of
age, blameless in all the offices of life; and a youth of about
seventeen, whose riper years opened a fair prospect of every
virtue: the elder of these was declared the son and successor of
Hadrian, on condition, however, that he himself should
immediately adopt the younger. The two Antonines (for it is of
them that we are now peaking,) governed the Roman world forty-two
years, with the same invariable spirit of wisdom and virtue.
Although Pius had two sons, he preferred the welfare of Rome to
the interest of his family, gave his daughter Faustina, in
marriage to young Marcus, obtained from the senate the
tribunitian and proconsular powers, and, with a noble disdain, or
rather ignorance of jealousy, associated him to all the labors of
government. Marcus, on the other hand, revered the character of
his benefactor, loved him as a parent, obeyed him as his
sovereign, and, after he was no more, regulated his own
administration by the example and maxims of his predecessor.
Their united reigns are possibly the only period of history in
which the happiness of a great people was the sole object of
government.
Titus Antoninus Pius has been justly denominated a second
Numa. The same love of religion, justice, and peace, was the
distinguishing characteristic of both princes. But the situation
of the latter opened a much larger field for the exercise of
those virtues. Numa could only prevent a few neighboring villages
from plundering each other's harvests. Antoninus diffused order
and tranquillity over the greatest part of the earth. His reign
is marked by the rare advantage of furnishing very few materials
for history; which is, indeed, little more than the register of
the crimes, follies, and misfortunes of mankind. In private life,
he was an amiable, as well as a good man. The native simplicity
of his virtue was a stranger to vanity or affectation. He enjoyed
with moderation the conveniences of his fortune, and the innocent
pleasures of society; and the benevolence of his soul displayed
itself in a cheerful serenity of temper.
The virtue of Marcus Aurelius Antoninus was of severer and
more laborious kind. It was the well-earned harvest of many a
learned conference, of many a patient lecture, and many a
midnight lucubration. At the age of twelve years he embraced the
rigid system of the Stoics, which taught him to submit his body
to his mind, his passions to his reason; to consider virtue as
the only good, vice as the only evil, all things external as
things indifferent. His meditations, composed in the tumult of
the camp, are still extant; and he even condescended to give
lessons of philosophy, in a more public manner than was perhaps
consistent with the modesty of sage, or the dignity of an
emperor. But his life was the noblest commentary on the precepts
of Zeno. He was severe to himself, indulgent to the imperfections
of others, just and beneficent to all mankind. He regretted that
Avidius Cassius, who excited a rebellion in Syria, had
disappointed him, by a voluntary death, * of the pleasure of
converting an enemy into a friend;; and he justified the
sincerity of that sentiment, by moderating the zeal of the senate
against the adherents of the traitor. War he detested, as the
disgrace and calamity of human nature; but when the necessity of
a just defence called upon him to take up arms, he readily
exposed his person to eight winter campaigns, on the frozen banks
of the Danube, the severity of which was at last fatal to the
weakness of his constitution. His memory was revered by a
grateful posterity, and above a century after his death, many
persons preserved the image of Marcus Antoninus among those of
their household gods.
If a man were called to fix the period in the history of the
world, during which the condition of the human race was most
happy and prosperous, he would, without hesitation, name that
which elapsed from the death of Domitian to the accession of
Commodus. The vast extent of the Roman empire was governed by
absolute power, under the guidance of virtue and wisdom. The
armies were restrained by the firm but gentle hand of four
successive emperors, whose characters and authority commanded
involuntary respect. The forms of the civil administration were
carefully preserved by Nerva, Trajan, Hadrian, and the Antonines,
who delighted in the image of liberty, and were pleased with
considering themselves as the accountable ministers of the laws.
Such princes deserved the honor of restoring the republic, had
the Romans of their days been capable of enjoying a rational
freedom.
The labors of these monarchs were overpaid by the immense
reward that inseparably waited on their success; by the honest
pride of virtue, and by the exquisite delight of beholding the
general happiness of which they were the authors. A just but
melancholy reflection imbittered, however, the noblest of human
enjoyments. They must often have recollected the instability of a
happiness which depended on the character of single man. The
fatal moment was perhaps approaching, when some licentious youth,
or some jealous tyrant, would abuse, to the destruction, that
absolute power, which they had exerted for the benefit of their
people. The ideal restraints of the senate and the laws might
serve to display the virtues, but could never correct the vices,
of the emperor. The military force was a blind and irresistible
instrument of oppression; and the corruption of Roman manners
would always supply flatterers eager to applaud, and ministers
prepared to serve, the fear or the avarice, the lust or the
cruelty, of their master.
These gloomy apprehensions had been already justified by the
experience of the Romans. The annals of the emperors exhibit a
strong and various picture of human nature, which we should
vainly seek among the mixed and doubtful characters of modern
history. In the conduct of those monarchs we may trace the utmost
lines of vice and virtue; the most exalted perfection, and the
meanest degeneracy of our own species. The golden age of Trajan
and the Antonines had been preceded by an age of iron. It is
almost superfluous to enumerate the unworthy successors of
Augustus. Their unparalleled vices, and the splendid theatre on
which they were acted, have saved them from oblivion. The dark,
unrelenting Tiberius, the furious Caligula, the feeble Claudius,
the profligate and cruel Nero, the beastly Vitellius, and the
timid, inhuman Domitian, are condemned to everlasting infamy.
During fourscore years (excepting only the short and doubtful
respite of Vespasian's reign) Rome groaned beneath an unremitting
tyranny, which exterminated the ancient families of the republic,
and was fatal to almost every virtue and every talent that arose
in that unhappy period.
Under the reign of these monsters, the slavery of the Romans
was accompanied with two peculiar circumstances, the one
occasioned by their former liberty, the other by their extensive
conquests, which rendered their condition more completely
wretched than that of the victims of tyranny in any other age or
country. From these causes were derived, 1. The exquisite
sensibility of the sufferers; and, 2. The impossibility of
escaping from the hand of the oppressor.
I. When Persia was governed by the descendants of Sefi, a race
of princes whose wanton cruelty often stained their divan, their
table, and their bed, with the blood of their favorites, there is
a saying recorded of a young nobleman, that he never departed
from the sultan's presence, without satisfying himself whether
his head was still on his shoulders. The experience of every day
might almost justify the scepticism of Rustan. Yet the fatal
sword, suspended above him by a single thread, seems not to have
disturbed the slumbers, or interrupted the tranquillity, of the
Persian. The monarch's frown, he well knew, could level him with
the dust; but the stroke of lightning or apoplexy might be
equally fatal; and it was the part of a wise man to forget the
inevitable calamities of human life in the enjoyment of the
fleeting hour. He was dignified with the appellation of the
king's slave; had, perhaps, been purchased from obscure parents,
in a country which he had never known; and was trained up from
his infancy in the severe discipline of the seraglio. His name,
his wealth, his honors, were the gift of a master, who might,
without injustice, resume what he had bestowed. Rustan's
knowledge, if he possessed any, could only serve to confirm his
habits by prejudices. His language afforded not words for any
form of government, except absolute monarchy. The history of the
East informed him, that such had ever been the condition of
mankind. The Koran, and the interpreters of that divine book,
inculcated to him, that the sultan was the descendant of the
prophet, and the vicegerent of heaven; that patience was the
first virtue of a Mussulman, and unlimited obedience the great
duty of a subject.
The minds of the Romans were very differently prepared for
slavery. Oppressed beneath the weight of their own corruption and
of military violence, they for a long while preserved the
sentiments, or at least the ideas, of their free-born ancestors.
The education of Helvidius and Thrasea, of Tacitus and Pliny, was
the same as that of Cato and Cicero. From Grecian philosophy,
they had imbibed the justest and most liberal notions of the
dignity of human nature, and the origin of civil society. The
history of their own country had taught them to revere a free, a
virtuous, and a victorious commonwealth; to abhor the successful
crimes of Cæsar and Augustus; and inwardly to despise those
tyrants whom they adored with the most abject flattery. As
magistrates and senators they were admitted into the great
council, which had once dictated laws to the earth, whose
authority was so often prostituted to the vilest purposes of
tyranny. Tiberius, and those emperors who adopted his maxims,
attempted to disguise their murders by the formalities of
justice, and perhaps enjoyed a secret pleasure in rendering the
senate their accomplice as well as their victim. By this
assembly, the last of the Romans were condemned for imaginary
crimes and real virtues. Their infamous accusers assumed the
language of independent patriots, who arraigned a dangerous
citizen before the tribunal of his country; and the public
service was rewarded by riches and honors. The servile judges
professed to assert the majesty of the commonwealth, violated in
the person of its first magistrate, whose clemency they most
applauded when they trembled the most at his inexorable and
impending cruelty. The tyrant beheld their baseness with just
contempt, and encountered their secret sentiments of detestation
with sincere and avowed hatred for the whole body of the
senate.
II. The division of Europe into a number of independent
states, connected, however, with each other by the general
resemblance of religion, language, and manners, is productive of
the most beneficial consequences to the liberty of mankind. A
modern tyrant, who should find no resistance either in his own
breast, or in his people, would soon experience a gentle restrain
form the example of his equals, the dread of present censure, the
advice of his allies, and the apprehension of his enemies. The
object of his displeasure, escaping from the narrow limits of his
dominions, would easily obtain, in a happier climate, a secure
refuge, a new fortune adequate to his merit, the freedom of
complaint, and perhaps the means of revenge. But the empire of
the Romans filled the world, and when the empire fell into the
hands of a single person, the world became a safe and dreary
prison for his enemies. The slave of Imperial despotism, whether
he was condemned to drags his gilded chain in Rome and the
senate, or to were out a life of exile on the barren rock of
Seriphus, or the frozen bank of the Danube, expected his fate in
silent despair. To resist was fatal, and it was impossible to
fly. On every side he was encompassed with a vast extent of sea
and land, which he could never hope to traverse without being
discovered, seized, and restored to his irritated master. Beyond
the frontiers, his anxious view could discover nothing, except
the ocean, inhospitable deserts, hostile tribes of barbarians, of
fierce manners and unknown language, or dependent kings, who
would gladly purchase the emperor's protection by the sacrifice
of an obnoxious fugitive. "Wherever you are," said Cicero to the
exiled Marcellus, "remember that you are equally within the power
of the conqueror."
Chapter IV: The Cruelty, Follies And Murder Of Commodus.
Part I.
The Cruelty, Follies, And Murder Of Commodus. Election Of
Pertinax -- His Attempts To Reform The State -- His Assassination
By The Prætorian Guards.
The mildness of Marcus, which the rigid discipline of the
Stoics was unable to eradicate, formed, at the same time, the
most amiable, and the only defective part of his character. His
excellent understanding was often deceived by the unsuspecting
goodness of his heart. Artful men, who study the passions of
princes, and conceal their own, approached his person in the
disguise of philosophic sanctity, and acquired riches and honors
by affecting to despise them. His excessive indulgence to his
brother, * his wife, and his son, exceeded the bounds of private
virtue, and became a public injury, by the example and
consequences of their vices.
Faustina, the daughter of Pius and the wife of Marcus, has
been as much celebrated for her gallantries as for her beauty.
The grave simplicity of the philosopher was ill calculated to
engage her wanton levity, or to fix that unbounded passion for
variety, which often discovered personal merit in the meanest of
mankind. The Cupid of the ancients was, in general, a very
sensual deity; and the amours of an empress, as they exact on her
side the plainest advances, are seldom susceptible of much
sentimental delicacy. Marcus was the only man in the empire who
seemed ignorant or insensible of the irregularities of Faustina;
which, according to the prejudices of every age, reflected some
disgrace on the injured husband. He promoted several of her
lovers to posts of honor and profit, and during a connection of
thirty years, invariably gave her proofs of the most tender
confidence, and of a respect which ended not with her life. In
his Meditations, he thanks the gods, who had bestowed on him a
wife so faithful, so gentle, and of such a wonderful simplicity
of manners. The obsequious senate, at his earnest request,
declared her a goddess. She was represented in her temples, with
the attributes of Juno, Venus, and Ceres; and it was decreed,
that, on the day of their nuptials, the youth of either sex
should pay their vows before the altar of their chaste
patroness.
The monstrous vices of the son have cast a shade on the purity
of the father's virtues. It has been objected to Marcus, that he
sacrificed the happiness of millions to a fond partiality for a
worthless boy; and that he chose a successor in his own family,
rather than in the republic. Nothing however, was neglected by
the anxious father, and by the men of virtue and learning whom he
summoned to his assistance, to expand the narrow mind of young
Commodus, to correct his growing vices, and to render him worthy
of the throne for which he was designed. But the power of
instruction is seldom of much efficacy, except in those happy
dispositions where it is almost superfluous. The distasteful
lesson of a grave philosopher was, in a moment, obliterated by
the whisper of a profligate favorite; and Marcus himself blasted
the fruits of this labored education, by admitting his son, at
the age of fourteen or fifteen, to a full participation of the
Imperial power. He lived but four years afterwards: but he lived
long enough to repent a rash measure, which raised the impetuous
youth above the restraint of reason and authority.
Most of the crimes which disturb the internal peace of
society, are produced by the restraints which the necessary but
unequal laws of property have imposed on the appetites of
mankind, by confining to a few the possession of those objects
that are coveted by many. Of all our passions and appetites, the
love of power is of the most imperious and unsociable nature,
since the pride of one man requires the submission of the
multitude. In the tumult of civil discord, the laws of society
lose their force, and their place is seldom supplied by those of
humanity. The ardor of contention, the pride of victory, the
despair of success, the memory of past injuries, and the fear of
future dangers, all contribute to inflame the mind, and to
silence the voice of pity. From such motives almost every page of
history has been stained with civil blood; but these motives will
not account for the unprovoked cruelties of Commodus, who had
nothing to wish and every thing to enjoy. The beloved son of
Marcus succeeded to his father, amidst the acclamations of the
senate and armies; and when he ascended the throne, the happy
youth saw round him neither competitor to remove, nor enemies to
punish. In this calm, elevated station, it was surely natural
that he should prefer the love of mankind to their detestation,
the mild glories of his five predecessors to the ignominious fate
of Nero and Domitian.
Yet Commodus was not, as he has been represented, a tiger born
with an insatiate thirst of human blood, and capable, from his
infancy, of the most inhuman actions. Nature had formed him of a
weak rather than a wicked disposition. His simplicity and
timidity rendered him the slave of his attendants, who gradually
corrupted his mind. His cruelty, which at first obeyed the
dictates of others, degenerated into habit, and at length became
the ruling passion of his soul.
Upon the death of his father, Commodus found himself
embarrassed with the command of a great army, and the conduct of
a difficult war against the Quadi and Marcomanni. The servile and
profligate youths whom Marcus had banished, soon regained their
station and influence about the new emperor. They exaggerated the
hardships and dangers of a campaign in the wild countries beyond
the Danube; and they assured the indolent prince that the terror
of his name, and the arms of his lieutenants, would be sufficient
to complete the conquest of the dismayed barbarians, or to impose
such conditions as were more advantageous than any conquest. By a
dexterous application to his sensual appetites, they compared the
tranquillity, the splendor, the refined pleasures of Rome, with
the tumult of a Pannonian camp, which afforded neither leisure
nor materials for luxury. Commodus listened to the pleasing
advice; but whilst he hesitated between his own inclination and
the awe which he still retained for his father's counsellors, the
summer insensibly elapsed, and his triumphal entry into the
capital was deferred till the autumn. His graceful person,
popular address, and imagined virtues, attracted the public
favor; the honorable peace which he had recently granted to the
barbarians, diffused a universal joy; his impatience to revisit
Rome was fondly ascribed to the love of his country; and his
dissolute course of amusements was faintly condemned in a prince
of nineteen years of age.
During the three first years of his reign, the forms, and even
the spirit, of the old administration, were maintained by those
faithful counsellors, to whom Marcus had recommended his son, and
for whose wisdom and integrity Commodus still entertained a
reluctant esteem. The young prince and his profligate favorites
revelled in all the license of sovereign power; but his hands
were yet unstained with blood; and he had even displayed a
generosity of sentiment, which might perhaps have ripened into
solid virtue. A fatal incident decided his fluctuating
character.
One evening, as the emperor was returning to the palace,
through a dark and narrow portico in the amphitheatre, an
assassin, who waited his passage, rushed upon him with a drawn
sword, loudly exclaiming, "The senate sends you this."
The menace prevented the deed; the assassin was seized by the
guards, and immediately revealed the authors of the conspiracy.
It had been formed, not in the state, but within the walls of the
palace. Lucilla, the emperor's sister, and widow of Lucius Verus,
impatient of the second rank, and jealous of the reigning
empress, had armed the murderer against her brother's life. She
had not ventured to communicate the black design to her second
husband, Claudius Pompeiarus, a senator of distinguished merit
and unshaken loyalty; but among the crowd of her lovers (for she
imitated the manners of Faustina) she found men of desperate
fortunes and wild ambition, who were prepared to serve her more
violent, as well as her tender passions. The conspirators
experienced the rigor of justice, and the abandoned princess was
punished, first with exile, and afterwards with death.
But the words of the assassin sunk deep into the mind of
Commodus, and left an indelible impression of fear and hatred
against the whole body of the senate. * Those whom he had dreaded
as importunate ministers, he now suspected as secret enemies. The
Delators, a race of men discouraged, and almost extinguished,
under the former reigns, again became formidable, as soon as they
discovered that the emperor was desirous of finding disaffection
and treason in the senate. That assembly, whom Marcus had ever
considered as the great council of the nation, was composed of
the most distinguished of the Romans; and distinction of every
kind soon became criminal. The possession of wealth stimulated
the diligence of the informers; rigid virtue implied a tacit
censure of the irregularities of Commodus; important services
implied a dangerous superiority of merit; and the friendship of
the father always insured the aversion of the son. Suspicion was
equivalent to proof; trial to condemnation. The execution of a
considerable senator was attended with the death of all who might
lament or revenge his fate; and when Commodus had once tasted
human blood, he became incapable of pity or remorse.
Of these innocent victims of tyranny, none died more lamented
than the two brothers of the Quintilian family, Maximus and
Condianus; whose fraternal love has saved their names from
oblivion, and endeared their memory to posterity. Their studies
and their occupations, their pursuits and their pleasures, were
still the same. In the enjoyment of a great estate, they never
admitted the idea of a separate interest: some fragments are now
extant of a treatise which they composed in common; and in every
action of life it was observed that their two bodies were
animated by one soul. The Antonines, who valued their virtues,
and delighted in their union, raised them, in the same year, to
the consulship; and Marcus afterwards intrusted to their joint
care the civil administration of Greece, and a great military
command, in which they obtained a signal victory over the
Germans. The kind cruelty of Commodus united them in death.
The tyrant's rage, after having shed the noblest blood of the
senate, at length recoiled on the principal instrument of his
cruelty. Whilst Commodus was immersed in blood and luxury, he
devolved the detail of the public business on Perennis, a servile
and ambitious minister, who had obtained his post by the murder
of his predecessor, but who possessed a considerable share of
vigor and ability. By acts of extortion, and the forfeited
estates of the nobles sacrificed to his avarice, he had
accumulated an immense treasure. The Prætorian guards were
under his immediate command; and his son, who already discovered
a military genius, was at the head of the Illyrian legions.
Perennis aspired to the empire; or what, in the eyes of Commodus,
amounted to the same crime, he was capable of aspiring to it, had
he not been prevented, surprised, and put to death. The fall of a
minister is a very trifling incident in the general history of
the empire; but it was hastened by an extraordinary circumstance,
which proved how much the nerves of discipline were already
relaxed. The legions of Britain, discontented with the
administration of Perennis, formed a deputation of fifteen
hundred select men, with instructions to march to Rome, and lay
their complaints before the emperor. These military petitioners,
by their own determined behaviour, by inflaming the divisions of
the guards, by exaggerating the strength of the British army, and
by alarming the fears of Commodus, exacted and obtained the
minister's death, as the only redress of their grievances. This
presumption of a distant army, and their discovery of the
weakness of government, was a sure presage of the most dreadful
convulsions.
The negligence of the public administration was betrayed, soon
afterwards, by a new disorder, which arose from the smallest
beginnings. A spirit of desertion began to prevail among the
troops: and the deserters, instead of seeking their safety in
flight or concealment, infested the highways. Maternus, a private
soldier, of a daring boldness above his station, collected these
bands of robbers into a little army, set open the prisons,
invited the slaves to assert their freedom, and plundered with
impunity the rich and defenceless cities of Gaul and Spain. The
governors of the provinces, who had long been the spectators, and
perhaps the partners, of his depredations, were, at length,
roused from their supine indolence by the threatening commands of
the emperor. Maternus found that he was encompassed, and foresaw
that he must be overpowered. A great effort of despair was his
last resource. He ordered his followers to disperse, to pass the
Alps in small parties and various disguises, and to assemble at
Rome, during the licentious tumult of the festival of Cybele. To
murder Commodus, and to ascend the vacant throne, was the
ambition of no vulgar robber. His measures were so ably concerted
that his concealed troops already filled the streets of Rome. The
envy of an accomplice discovered and ruined this singular
enterprise, in a moment when it was ripe for execution.
Suspicious princes often promote the last of mankind, from a
vain persuasion, that those who have no dependence, except on
their favor, will have no attachment, except to the person of
their benefactor. Cleander, the successor of Perennis, was a
Phrygian by birth; of a nation over whose stubborn, but servile
temper, blows only could prevail. He had been sent from his
native country to Rome, in the capacity of a slave. As a slave he
entered the Imperial palace, rendered himself useful to his
master's passions, and rapidly ascended to the most exalted
station which a subject could enjoy. His influence over the mind
of Commodus was much greater than that of his predecessor; for
Cleander was devoid of any ability or virtue which could inspire
the emperor with envy or distrust. Avarice was the reigning
passion of his soul, and the great principle of his
administration. The rank of Consul, of Patrician, of Senator, was
exposed to public sale; and it would have been considered as
disaffection, if any one had refused to purchase these empty and
disgraceful honors with the greatest part of his fortune. In the
lucrative provincial employments, the minister shared with the
governor the spoils of the people. The execution of the laws was
penal and arbitrary. A wealthy criminal might obtain, not only
the reversal of the sentence by which he was justly condemned,
but might likewise inflict whatever punishment he pleased on the
accuser, the witnesses, and the judge.
By these means, Cleander, in the space of three years, had
accumulated more wealth than had ever yet been possessed by any
freedman. Commodus was perfectly satisfied with the magnificent
presents which the artful courtier laid at his feet in the most
seasonable moments. To divert the public envy, Cleander, under
the emperor's name, erected baths, porticos, and places of
exercise, for the use of the people. He flattered himself that
the Romans, dazzled and amused by this apparent liberality, would
be less affected by the bloody scenes which were daily exhibited;
that they would forget the death of Byrrhus, a senator to whose
superior merit the late emperor had granted one of his daughters;
and that they would forgive the execution of Arrius Antoninus,
the last representative of the name and virtues of the Antonines.
The former, with more integrity than prudence, had attempted to
disclose, to his brother-in-law, the true character of Cleander.
An equitable sentence pronounced by the latter, when proconsul of
Asia, against a worthless creature of the favorite, proved fatal
to him. After the fall of Perennis, the terrors of Commodus had,
for a short time, assumed the appearance of a return to virtue.
He repealed the most odious of his acts; loaded his memory with
the public execration, and ascribed to the pernicious counsels of
that wicked minister all the errors of his inexperienced youth.
But his repentance lasted only thirty days; and, under Cleander's
tyranny, the administration of Perennis was often regretted.
Chapter IV: The Cruelty, Follies And Murder Of
Commodus. -- Part II.
Pestilence and famine contributed to fill up the measure of
the calamities of Rome. The first could be only imputed to the
just indignation of the gods; but a monopoly of corn, supported
by the riches and power of the minister, was considered as the
immediate cause of the second. The popular discontent, after it
had long circulated in whispers, broke out in the assembled
circus. The people quitted their favorite amusements for the more
delicious pleasure of revenge, rushed in crowds towards a palace
in the suburbs, one of the emperor's retirements, and demanded,
with angry clamors, the head of the public enemy. Cleander, who
commanded the Prætorian guards, ordered a body of cavalry
to sally forth, and disperse the seditious multitude. The
multitude fled with precipitation towards the city; several were
slain, and many more were trampled to death; but when the cavalry
entered the streets, their pursuit was checked by a shower of
stones and darts from the roofs and windows of the houses. The
foot guards, who had been long jealous of the prerogatives and
insolence of the Prætorian cavalry, embraced the party of
the people. The tumult became a regular engagement, and
threatened a general massacre. The Prætorians, at length,
gave way, oppressed with numbers; and the tide of popular fury
returned with redoubled violence against the gates of the palace,
where Commodus lay, dissolved in luxury, and alone unconscious of
the civil war. It was death to approach his person with the
unwelcome news. He would have perished in this supine security,
had not two women, his eldest sister Fadilla, and Marcia, the
most favored of his concubines, ventured to break into his
presence. Bathed in tears, and with dishevelled hair, they threw
themselves at his feet; and with all the pressing eloquence of
fear, discovered to the affrighted emperor the crimes of the
minister, the rage of the people, and the impending ruin, which,
in a few minutes, would burst over his palace and person.
Commodus started from his dream of pleasure, and commanded that
the head of Cleander should be thrown out to the people. The
desired spectacle instantly appeased the tumult; and the son of
Marcus might even yet have regained the affection and confidence
of his subjects.
But every sentiment of virtue and humanity was extinct in the
mind of Commodus. Whilst he thus abandoned the reins of empire to
these unworthy favorites, he valued nothing in sovereign power,
except the unbounded license of indulging his sensual appetites.
His hours were spent in a seraglio of three hundred beautiful
women, and as many boys, of every rank, and of every province;
and, wherever the arts of seduction proved ineffectual, the
brutal lover had recourse to violence. The ancient historians
have expatiated on these abandoned scenes of prostitution, which
scorned every restraint of nature or modesty; but it would not be
easy to translate their too faithful descriptions into the
decency of modern language. The intervals of lust were filled up
with the basest amusements. The influence of a polite age, and
the labor of an attentive education, had never been able to
infuse into his rude and brutish mind the least tincture of
learning; and he was the first of the Roman emperors totally
devoid of taste for the pleasures of the understanding. Nero
himself excelled, or affected to excel, in the elegant arts of
music and poetry: nor should we despise his pursuits, had he not
converted the pleasing relaxation of a leisure hour into the
serious business and ambition of his life. But Commodus, from his
earliest infancy, discovered an aversion to whatever was rational
or liberal, and a fond attachment to the amusements of the
populace; the sports of the circus and amphitheatre, the combats
of gladiators, and the hunting of wild beasts. The masters in
every branch of learning, whom Marcus provided for his son, were
heard with inattention and disgust; whilst the Moors and
Parthians, who taught him to dart the javelin and to shoot with
the bow, found a disciple who delighted in his application, and
soon equalled the most skilful of his instructors in the
steadiness of the eye and the dexterity of the hand.
The servile crowd, whose fortune depended on their master's
vices, applauded these ignoble pursuits. The perfidious voice of
flattery reminded him, that by exploits of the same nature, by
the defeat of the Nemæan lion, and the slaughter of the
wild boar of Erymanthus, the Grecian Hercules had acquired a
place among the gods, and an immortal memory among men. They only
forgot to observe, that, in the first ages of society, when the
fiercer animals often dispute with man the possession of an
unsettled country, a successful war against those savages is one
of the most innocent and beneficial labors of heroism. In the
civilized state of the Roman empire, the wild beasts had long
since retired from the face of man, and the neighborhood of
populous cities. To surprise them in their solitary haunts, and
to transport them to Rome, that they might be slain in pomp by
the hand of an emperor, was an enterprise equally ridiculous for
the prince and oppressive for the people. Ignorant of these
distinctions, Commodus eagerly embraced the glorious resemblance,
and styled himself (as we still read on his medals ) the
Roman Hercules. * The club and the lion's hide
were placed by the side of the throne, amongst the ensigns of
sovereignty; and statues were erected, in which Commodus was
represented in the character, and with the attributes, of the
god, whose valor and dexterity he endeavored to emulate in the
daily course of his ferocious amusements.
Elated with these praises, which gradually extinguished the
innate sense of shame, Commodus resolved to exhibit before the
eyes of the Roman people those exercises, which till then he had
decently confined within the walls of his palace, and to the
presence of a few favorites. On the appointed day, the various
motives of flattery, fear, and curiosity, attracted to the
amphitheatre an innumerable multitude of spectators; and some
degree of applause was deservedly bestowed on the uncommon skill
of the Imperial performer. Whether he aimed at the head or heart
of the animal, the wound was alike certain and mortal. With
arrows whose point was shaped into the form of crescent, Commodus
often intercepted the rapid career, and cut asunder the long,
bony neck of the ostrich. A panther was let loose; and the archer
waited till he had leaped upon a trembling malefactor. In the
same instant the shaft flew, the beast dropped dead, and the man
remained unhurt. The dens of the amphitheatre disgorged at once a
hundred lions: a hundred darts from the unerring hand of Commodus
laid them dead as they run raging round the Arena.
Neither the huge bulk of the elephant, nor the scaly hide of the
rhinoceros, could defend them from his stroke. Æthiopia and
India yielded their most extraordinary productions; and several
animals were slain in the amphitheatre, which had been seen only
in the representations of art, or perhaps of fancy. In all these
exhibitions, the securest precautions were used to protect the
person of the Roman Hercules from the desperate spring of any
savage, who might possibly disregard the dignity of the emperor
and the sanctity of the god. ^
But the meanest of the populace were affected with shame and
indignation when they beheld their sovereign enter the lists as a
gladiator, and glory in a profession which the laws and manners
of the Romans had branded with the justest note of infamy. He
chose the habit and arms of the Secutor, whose combat
with the Retiarius formed one of the most lively scenes
in the bloody sports of the amphitheatre. The Secutor
was armed with a helmet, sword, and buckler; his naked antagonist
had only a large net and a trident; with the one he endeavored to
entangle, with the other to despatch his enemy. If he missed the
first throw, he was obliged to fly from the pursuit of the
Secutor, till he had prepared his net for a second cast.
The emperor fought in this character seven hundred and
thirty-five several times. These glorious achievements were
carefully recorded in the public acts of the empire; and that he
might omit no circumstance of infamy, he received from the common
fund of gladiators a stipend so exorbitant that it became a new
and most ignominious tax upon the Roman people. It may be easily
supposed, that in these engagements the master of the world was
always successful; in the amphitheatre, his victories were not
often sanguinary; but when he exercised his skill in the school
of gladiators, or his own palace, his wretched antagonists were
frequently honored with a mortal wound from the hand of Commodus,
and obliged to seal their flattery with their blood. He now
disdained the appellation of Hercules. The name of Paulus, a
celebrated Secutor, was the only one which delighted his ear. It
was inscribed on his colossal statues, and repeated in the
redoubled acclamations of the mournful and applauding senate.
Claudius Pompeianus, the virtuous husband of Lucilla, was the
only senator who asserted the honor of his rank. As a father, he
permitted his sons to consult their safety by attending the
amphitheatre. As a Roman, he declared, that his own life was in
the emperor's hands, but that he would never behold the son of
Marcus prostituting his person and dignity. Notwithstanding his
manly resolution Pompeianus escaped the resentment of the tyrant,
and, with his honor, had the good fortune to preserve his
life.
Commodus had now attained the summit of vice and infamy.
Amidst the acclamations of a flattering court, he was unable to
disguise from himself, that he had deserved the contempt and
hatred of every man of sense and virtue in his empire. His
ferocious spirit was irritated by the consciousness of that
hatred, by the envy of every kind of merit, by the just
apprehension of danger, and by the habit of slaughter, which he
contracted in his daily amusements. History has preserved a long
list of consular senators sacrificed to his wanton suspicion,
which sought out, with peculiar anxiety, those unfortunate
persons connected, however remotely, with the family of the
Antonines, without sparing even the ministers of his crimes or
pleasures. His cruelty proved at last fatal to himself. He had
shed with impunity the noblest blood of Rome: he perished as soon
as he was dreaded by his own domestics. Marcia, his favorite
concubine, Eclectus, his chamberlain, and Lætus, his
Prætorian præfect, alarmed by the fate of their
companions and predecessors, resolved to prevent the destruction
which every hour hung over their heads, either from the mad
caprice of the tyrant, * or the sudden indignation of the people.
Marcia seized the occasion of presenting a draught of wine to her
lover, after he had fatigued himself with hunting some wild
beasts. Commodus retired to sleep; but whilst he was laboring
with the effects of poison and drunkenness, a robust youth, by
profession a wrestler, entered his chamber, and strangled him
without resistance. The body was secretly conveyed out of the
palace, before the least suspicion was entertained in the city,
or even in the court, of the emperor's death. Such was the fate
of the son of Marcus, and so easy was it to destroy a hated
tyrant, who, by the artificial powers of government, had
oppressed, during thirteen years, so many millions of subjects,
each of whom was equal to their master in personal strength and
personal abilities.
The measures of he conspirators were conducted with the
deliberate coolness and celerity which the greatness of the
occasion required. They resolved instantly to fill the vacant
throne with an emperor whose character would justify and maintain
the action that had been committed. They fixed on Pertinax,
præfect of the city, an ancient senator of consular rank,
whose conspicuous merit had broke through the obscurity of his
birth, and raised him to the first honors of the state. He had
successively governed most of the provinces of the empire; and in
all his great employments, military as well as civil, he had
uniformly distinguished himself by the firmness, the prudence,
and the integrity of his conduct. He now remained almost alone of
the friends and ministers of Marcus; and when, at a late hour of
the night, he was awakened with the news, that the chamberlain
and the præfect were at his door, he received them with
intrepid resignation, and desired they would execute their
master's orders. Instead of death, they offered him the throne of
the Roman world. During some moments he distrusted their
intentions and assurances. Convinced at length of the death of
Commodus, he accepted the purple with a sincere reluctance, the
natural effect of his knowledge both of the duties and of the
dangers of the supreme rank.
Lætus conducted without delay his new emperor to the
camp of the Prætorians, diffusing at the same time through
the city a seasonable report that Commodus died suddenly of an
apoplexy; and that the virtuous Pertinax had already succeeded to
the throne. The guards were rather surprised than pleased with
the suspicious death of a prince, whose indulgence and liberality
they alone had experienced; but the emergency of the occasion,
the authority of their præfect, the reputation of Pertinax,
and the clamors of the people, obliged them to stifle their
secret discontents, to accept the donative promised by the new
emperor, to swear allegiance to him, and with joyful acclamations
and laurels in their hands to conduct him to the senate house,
that the military consent might be ratified by the civil
authority.
This important night was now far spent; with the dawn of day,
and the commencement of the new year, the senators expected a
summons to attend an ignominious ceremony. * In spite of all
remonstrances, even of those of his creatures who yet preserved
any regard for prudence or decency, Commodus had resolved to pass
the night in the gladiators' school, and from thence to take
possession of the consulship, in the habit and with the
attendance of that infamous crew. On a sudden, before the break
of day, the senate was called together in the temple of Concord,
to meet the guards, and to ratify the election of a new emperor.
For a few minutes they sat in silent suspense, doubtful of their
unexpected deliverance, and suspicious of the cruel artifices of
Commodus: but when at length they were assured that the tyrant
was no more, they resigned themselves to all the transports of
joy and indignation. Pertinax, who modestly represented the
meanness of his extraction, and pointed out several noble
senators more deserving than himself of the empire, was
constrained by their dutiful violence to ascend the throne, and
received all the titles of Imperial power, confirmed by the most
sincere vows of fidelity. The memory of Commodus was branded with
eternal infamy. The names of tyrant, of gladiator, of public
enemy resounded in every corner of the house. They decreed in
tumultuous votes, that his honors should be reversed, his titles
erased from the public monuments, his statues thrown down, his
body dragged with a hook into the stripping room of the
gladiators, to satiate the public fury; and they expressed some
indignation against those officious servants who had already
presumed to screen his remains from the justice of the senate.
But Pertinax could not refuse those last rites to the memory of
Marcus, and the tears of his first protector Claudius Pompeianus,
who lamented the cruel fate of his brother-in-law, and lamented
still more that he had deserved it.
These effusions of impotent rage against a dead emperor, whom
the senate had flattered when alive with the most abject
servility, betrayed a just but ungenerous spirit of revenge. The
legality of these decrees was, however, supported by the
principles of the Imperial constitution. To censure, to depose,
or to punish with death, the first magistrate of the republic,
who had abused his delegated trust, was the ancient and undoubted
prerogative of the Roman senate; but the feeble assembly was
obliged to content itself with inflicting on a fallen tyrant that
public justice, from which, during his life and reign, he had
been shielded by the strong arm of military despotism. *
Pertinax found a nobler way of condemning his predecessor's
memory; by the contrast of his own virtues with the vices of
Commodus. On the day of his accession, he resigned over to his
wife and son his whole private fortune; that they might have no
pretence to solicit favors at the expense of the state. He
refused to flatter the vanity of the former with the title of
Augusta; or to corrupt the inexperienced youth of the latter by
the rank of Cæsar. Accurately distinguishing between the
duties of a parent and those of a sovereign, he educated his son
with a severe simplicity, which, while it gave him no assured
prospect of the throne, might in time have rendered him worthy of
it. In public, the behavior of Pertinax was grave and affable. He
lived with the virtuous part of the senate, (and, in a private
station, he had been acquainted with the true character of each
individual,) without either pride or jealousy; considered them as
friends and companions, with whom he had shared the danger of the
tyranny, and with whom he wished to enjoy the security of the
present time. He very frequently invited them to familiar
entertainments, the frugality of which was ridiculed by those who
remembered and regretted the luxurious prodigality of
Commodus.
To heal, as far as I was possible, the wounds inflicted by the
hand of tyranny, was the pleasing, but melancholy, task of
Pertinax. The innocent victims, who yet survived, were recalled
from exile, released from prison, and restored to the full
possession of their honors and fortunes. The unburied bodies of
murdered senators (for the cruelty of Commodus endeavored to
extend itself beyond death) were deposited in the sepulchres of
their ancestors; their memory was justified and every consolation
was bestowed on their ruined and afflicted families. Among these
consolations, one of the most grateful was the punishment of the
Delators; the common enemies of their master, of virtue, and of
their country. Yet even in the inquisition of these legal
assassins, Pertinax proceeded with a steady temper, which gave
every thing to justice, and nothing to popular prejudice and
resentment.
The finances of the state demanded the most vigilant care of
the emperor. Though every measure of injustice and extortion had
been adopted, which could collect the property of the subject
into the coffers of the prince, the rapaciousness of Commodus had
been so very inadequate to his extravagance, that, upon his
death, no more than eight thousand pounds were found in the
exhausted treasury, to defray the current expenses of government,
and to discharge the pressing demand of a liberal donative, which
the new emperor had been obliged to promise to the
Prætorian guards. Yet under these distressed circumstances,
Pertinax had the generous firmness to remit all the oppressive
taxes invented by Commodus, and to cancel all the unjust claims
of the treasury; declaring, in a decree of the senate, "that he
was better satisfied to administer a poor republic with
innocence, than to acquire riches by the ways of tyranny and
dishonor. "Economy and industry he considered as the pure and
genuine sources of wealth; and from them he soon derived a
copious supply for the public necessities. The expense of the
household was immediately reduced to one half. All the
instruments of luxury Pertinax exposed to public auction, gold
and silver plate, chariots of a singular construction, a
superfluous wardrobe of silk and embroidery, and a great number
of beautiful slaves of both sexes; excepting only, with attentive
humanity, those who were born in a state of freedom, and had been
ravished from the arms of their weeping parents. At the same time
that he obliged the worthless favorites of the tyrant to resign a
part of their ill-gotten wealth, he satisfied the just creditors
of the state, and unexpectedly discharged the long arrears of
honest services. He removed the oppressive restrictions which had
been laid upon commerce, and granted all the uncultivated lands
in Italy and the provinces to those who would improve them; with
an exemption from tribute during the term of ten years.
Such a uniform conduct had already secured to Pertinax the
noblest reward of a sovereign, the love and esteem of his people.
Those who remembered the virtues of Marcus were happy to
contemplate in their new emperor the features of that bright
original; and flattered themselves, that they should long enjoy
the benign influence of his administration. A hasty zeal to
reform the corrupted state, accompanied with less prudence than
might have been expected from the years and experience of
Pertinax, proved fatal to himself and to his country. His honest
indiscretion united against him the servile crowd, who found
their private benefit in the public disorders, and who preferred
the favor of a tyrant to the inexorable equality of the laws.
Amidst the general joy, the sullen and angry countenance of
the Prætorian guards betrayed their inward dissatisfaction.
They had reluctantly submitted to Pertinax; they dreaded the
strictness of the ancient discipline, which he was preparing to
restore; and they regretted the license of the former reign.
Their discontents were secretly fomented by Lætus, their
præfect, who found, when it was too late, that his new
emperor would reward a servant, but would not be ruled by a
favorite. On the third day of his reign, the soldiers seized on a
noble senator, with a design to carry him to the camp, and to
invest him with the Imperial purple. Instead of being dazzled by
the dangerous honor, the affrighted victim escaped from their
violence, and took refuge at the feet of Pertinax. A short time
afterwards, Sosius Falco, one of the consuls of the year, a rash
youth, but of an ancient and opulent family, listened to the
voice of ambition; and a conspiracy was formed during a short
absence of Pertinax, which was crushed by his sudden return to
Rome, and his resolute behavior. Falco was on the point of being
justly condemned to death as a public enemy had he not been saved
by the earnest and sincere entreaties of the injured emperor, who
conjured the senate, that the purity of his reign might not be
stained by the blood even of a guilty senator.
These disappointments served only to irritate the rage of the
Prætorian guards. On the twenty-eighth of March, eighty-six
days only after the death of Commodus, a general sedition broke
out in the camp, which the officers wanted either power or
inclination to suppress. Two or three hundred of the most
desperate soldiers marched at noonday, with arms in their hands
and fury in their looks, towards the Imperial palace. The gates
were thrown open by their companions upon guard, and by the
domestics of the old court, who had already formed a secret
conspiracy against the life of the too virtuous emperor. On the
news of their approach, Pertinax, disdaining either flight or
concealment, advanced to meet his assassins; and recalled to
their minds his own innocence, and the sanctity of their recent
oath. For a few moments they stood in silent suspense, ashamed of
their atrocious design, and awed by the venerable aspect and
majestic firmness of their sovereign, till at length, the despair
of pardon reviving their fury, a barbarian of the country of
Tongress levelled the first blow against Pertinax, who was
instantly despatched with a multitude of wounds. His head,
separated from his body, and placed on a lance, was carried in
triumph to the Prætorian camp, in the sight of a mournful
and indignant people, who lamented the unworthy fate of that
excellent prince, and the transient blessings of a reign, the
memory of which could serve only to aggravate their approaching
misfortunes.
Chapter V: Sale Of The Empire To Didius Julianus.
Part I.
Public Sale Of The Empire To Didius Julianus By The
Prætorian Guards -- Clodius Albinus In Britain, Pescennius
Niger In Syria, And Septimius Severus In Pannonia, Declare
Against The Murderers Of Pertinax -- Civil Wars And Victory Of
Severus Over His Three Rivals -- Relaxation Of Discipline -- New
Maxims Of Government.
The power of the sword is more sensibly felt in an extensive
monarchy, than in a small community. It has been calculated by
the ablest politicians, that no state, without being soon
exhausted, can maintain above the hundredth part of its members
in arms and idleness. But although this relative proportion may
be uniform, the influence of the army over the rest of the
society will vary according to the degree of its positive
strength. The advantages of military science and discipline
cannot be exerted, unless a proper number of soldiers are united
into one body, and actuated by one soul. With a handful of men,
such a union would be ineffectual; with an unwieldy host, it
would be impracticable; and the powers of the machine would be
alike destroyed by the extreme minuteness or the excessive weight
of its springs. To illustrate this observation, we need only
reflect, that there is no superiority of natural strength,
artificial weapons, or acquired skill, which could enable one man
to keep in constant subjection one hundred of his
fellow-creatures: the tyrant of a single town, or a small
district, would soon discover that a hundred armed followers were
a weak defence against ten thousand peasants or citizens; but a
hundred thousand well-disciplined soldiers will command, with
despotic sway, ten millions of subjects; and a body of ten or
fifteen thousand guards will strike terror into the most numerous
populace that ever crowded the streets of an immense capital.
The Prætorian bands, whose licentious fury was the first
symptom and cause of the decline of the Roman empire, scarcely
amounted to the last-mentioned number They derived their
institution from Augustus. That crafty tyrant, sensible that laws
might color, but that arms alone could maintain, his usurped
dominion, had gradually formed this powerful body of guards, in
constant readiness to protect his person, to awe the senate, and
either to prevent or to crush the first motions of rebellion. He
distinguished these favored troops by a double pay and superior
privileges; but, as their formidable aspect would at once have
alarmed and irritated the Roman people, three cohorts only were
stationed in the capital, whilst the remainder was dispersed in
the adjacent towns of Italy. But after fifty years of peace and
servitude, Tiberius ventured on a decisive measure, which forever
rivetted the fetters of his country. Under the fair pretences of
relieving Italy from the heavy burden of military quarters, and
of introducing a stricter discipline among the guards, he
assembled them at Rome, in a permanent camp, which was fortified
with skilful care, and placed on a commanding situation.
Such formidable servants are always necessary, but often fatal
to the throne of despotism. By thus introducing the
Prætorian guards as it were into the palace and the senate,
the emperors taught them to perceive their own strength, and the
weakness of the civil government; to view the vices of their
masters with familiar contempt, and to lay aside that reverential
awe, which distance only, and mystery, can preserve towards an
imaginary power. In the luxurious idleness of an opulent city,
their pride was nourished by the sense of their irresistible
weight; nor was it possible to conceal from them, that the person
of the sovereign, the authority of the senate, the public
treasure, and the seat of empire, were all in their hands. To
divert the Prætorian bands from these dangerous
reflections, the firmest and best established princes were
obliged to mix blandishments with commands, rewards with
punishments, to flatter their pride, indulge their pleasures,
connive at their irregularities, and to purchase their precarious
faith by a liberal donative; which, since the elevation of
Claudius, was enacted as a legal claim, on the accession of every
new emperor.
The advocate of the guards endeavored to justify by arguments
the power which they asserted by arms; and to maintain that,
according to the purest principles of the constitution,
their consent was essentially necessary in the
appointment of an emperor. The election of consuls, of generals,
and of magistrates, however it had been recently usurped by the
senate, was the ancient and undoubted right of the Roman people.
But where was the Roman people to be found? Not surely amongst
the mixed multitude of slaves and strangers that filled the
streets of Rome; a servile populace, as devoid of spirit as
destitute of property. The defenders of the state, selected from
the flower of the Italian youth, and trained in the exercise of
arms and virtue, were the genuine representatives of the people,
and the best entitled to elect the military chief of the
republic. These assertions, however defective in reason, became
unanswerable when the fierce Prætorians increased their
weight, by throwing, like the barbarian conqueror of Rome, their
swords into the scale.
The Prætorians had violated the sanctity of the throne
by the atrocious murder of Pertinax; they dishonored the majesty
of it by their subsequent conduct. The camp was without a leader,
for even the præfect Lætus, who had excited the
tempest, prudently declined the public indignation. Amidst the
wild disorder, Sulpicianus, the emperor's father-in-law, and
governor of the city, who had been sent to the camp on the first
alarm of mutiny, was endeavoring to calm the fury of the
multitude, when he was silenced by the clamorous return of the
murderers, bearing on a lance the head of Pertinax. Though
history has accustomed us to observe every principle and every
passion yielding to the imperious dictates of ambition, it is
scarcely credible that, in these moments of horror, Sulpicianus
should have aspired to ascend a throne polluted with the recent
blood of so near a relation and so excellent a prince. He had
already begun to use the only effectual argument, and to treat
for the Imperial dignity; but the more prudent of the
Prætorians, apprehensive that, in this private contract,
they should not obtain a just price for so valuable a commodity,
ran out upon the ramparts; and, with a loud voice, proclaimed
that the Roman world was to be disposed of to the best bidder by
public auction.
This infamous offer, the most insolent excess of military
license, diffused a universal grief, shame, and indignation
throughout the city. It reached at length the ears of Didius
Julianus, a wealthy senator, who, regardless of the public
calamities, was indulging himself in the luxury of the table. His
wife and his daughter, his freedmen and his parasites, easily
convinced him that he deserved the throne, and earnestly conjured
him to embrace so fortunate an opportunity. The vain old man
hastened to the Prætorian camp, where Sulpicianus was still
in treaty with the guards, and began to bid against him from the
foot of the rampart. The unworthy negotiation was transacted by
faithful emissaries, who passed alternately from one candidate to
the other, and acquainted each of them with the offers of his
rival. Sulpicianus had already promised a donative of five
thousand drachms (above one hundred and sixty pounds) to each
soldier; when Julian, eager for the prize, rose at once to the
sum of six thousand two hundred and fifty drachms, or upwards of
two hundred pounds sterling. The gates of the camp were instantly
thrown open to the purchaser; he was declared emperor, and
received an oath of allegiance from the soldiers, who retained
humanity enough to stipulate that he should pardon and forget the
competition of Sulpicianus. *
It was now incumbent on the Prætorians to fulfil the
conditions of the sale. They placed their new sovereign, whom
they served and despised, in the centre of their ranks,
surrounded him on every side with their shields, and conducted
him in close order of battle through the deserted streets of the
city. The senate was commanded to assemble; and those who had
been the distinguished friends of Pertinax, or the personal
enemies of Julian, found it necessary to affect a more than
common share of satisfaction at this happy revolution. After
Julian had filled the senate house with armed soldiers, he
expatiated on the freedom of his election, his own eminent
virtues, and his full assurance of the affections of the senate.
The obsequious assembly congratulated their own and the public
felicity; engaged their allegiance, and conferred on him all the
several branches of the Imperial power. From the senate Julian
was conducted, by the same military procession, to take
possession of the palace. The first objects that struck his eyes,
were the abandoned trunk of Pertinax, and the frugal
entertainment prepared for his supper. The one he viewed with
indifference, the other with contempt. A magnificent feast was
prepared by his order, and he amused himself, till a very late
hour, with dice, and the performances of Pylades, a celebrated
dancer. Yet it was observed, that after the crowd of flatterers
dispersed, and left him to darkness, solitude, and terrible
reflection, he passed a sleepless night; revolving most probably
in his mind his own rash folly, the fate of his virtuous
predecessor, and the doubtful and dangerous tenure of an empire
which had not been acquired by merit, but purchased by money.
He had reason to tremble. On the throne of the world he found
himself without a friend, and even without an adherent. The
guards themselves were ashamed of the prince whom their avarice
had persuaded them to accept; nor was there a citizen who did not
consider his elevation with horror, as the last insult on the
Roman name. The nobility, whose conspicuous station, and ample
possessions, exacted the strictest caution, dissembled their
sentiments, and met the affected civility of the emperor with
smiles of complacency and professions of duty. But the people,
secure in their numbers and obscurity, gave a free vent to their
passions. The streets and public places of Rome resounded with
clamors and imprecations. The enraged multitude affronted the
person of Julian, rejected his liberality, and, conscious of the
impotence of their own resentment, they called aloud on the
legions of the frontiers to assert the violated majesty of the
Roman empire.
The public discontent was soon diffused from the centre to the
frontiers of the empire. The armies of Britain, of Syria, and of
Illyricum, lamented the death of Pertinax, in whose company, or
under whose command, they had so often fought and conquered. They
received with surprise, with indignation, and perhaps with envy,
the extraordinary intelligence, that the Prætorians had
disposed of the empire by public auction; and they sternly
refused to ratify the ignominious bargain. Their immediate and
unanimous revolt was fatal to Julian, but it was fatal at the
same time to the public peace, as the generals of the respective
armies, Clodius Albinus, Pescennius Niger, and Septimius Severus,
were still more anxious to succeed than to revenge the murdered
Pertinax. Their forces were exactly balanced. Each of them was at
the head of three legions, with a numerous train of auxiliaries;
and however different in their characters, they were all soldiers
of experience and capacity.
Clodius Albinus, governor of Britain, surpassed both his
competitors in the nobility of his extraction, which he derived
from some of the most illustrious names of the old republic. But
the branch from which he claimed his descent was sunk into mean
circumstances, and transplanted into a remote province. It is
difficult to form a just idea of his true character. Under the
philosophic cloak of austerity, he stands accused of concealing
most of the vices which degrade human nature. But his accusers
are those venal writers who adored the fortune of Severus, and
trampled on the ashes of an unsuccessful rival. Virtue, or the
appearances of virtue, recommended Albinus to the confidence and
good opinion of Marcus; and his preserving with the son the same
interest which he had acquired with the father, is a proof at
least that he was possessed of a very flexible disposition. The
favor of a tyrant does not always suppose a want of merit in the
object of it; he may, without intending it, reward a man of worth
and ability, or he may find such a man useful to his own service.
It does not appear that Albinus served the son of Marcus, either
as the minister of his cruelties, or even as the associate of his
pleasures. He was employed in a distant honorable command, when
he received a confidential letter from the emperor, acquainting
him of the treasonable designs of some discontented generals, and
authorizing him to declare himself the guardian and successor of
the throne, by assuming the title and ensigns of Cæsar. The
governor of Britain wisely declined the dangerous honor, which
would have marked him for the jealousy, or involved him in the
approaching ruin, of Commodus. He courted power by nobler, or, at
least, by more specious arts. On a premature report of the death
of the emperor, he assembled his troops; and, in an eloquent
discourse, deplored the inevitable mischiefs of despotism,
described the happiness and glory which their ancestors had
enjoyed under the consular government, and declared his firm
resolution to reinstate the senate and people in their legal
authority. This popular harangue was answered by the loud
acclamations of the British legions, and received at Rome with a
secret murmur of applause. Safe in the possession of his little
world, and in the command of an army less distinguished indeed
for discipline than for numbers and valor, Albinus braved the
menaces of Commodus, maintained towards Pertinax a stately
ambiguous reserve, and instantly declared against the usurpation
of Julian. The convulsions of the capital added new weight to his
sentiments, or rather to his professions of patriotism. A regard
to decency induced him to decline the lofty titles of Augustus
and Emperor; and he imitated perhaps the example of Galba, who,
on a similar occasion, had styled himself the Lieutenant of the
senate and people.
Personal merit alone had raised Pescennius Niger, from an
obscure birth and station, to the government of Syria; a
lucrative and important command, which in times of civil
confusion gave him a near prospect of the throne. Yet his parts
seem to have been better suited to the second than to the first
rank; he was an unequal rival, though he might have approved
himself an excellent lieutenant, to Severus, who afterwards
displayed the greatness of his mind by adopting several useful
institutions from a vanquished enemy. In his government Niger
acquired the esteem of the soldiers and the love of the
provincials. His rigid discipline foritfied the valor and
confirmed the obedience of the former, whilst the voluptuous
Syrians were less delighted with the mild firmness of his
administration, than with the affability of his manners, and the
apparent pleasure with which he attended their frequent and
pompous festivals. As soon as the intelligence of the atrocious
murder of Pertinax had reached Antioch, the wishes of Asia
invited Niger to assume the Imperial purple and revenge his
death. The legions of the eastern frontier embraced his cause;
the opulent but unarmed provinces, from the frontiers of
Æthiopia to the Hadriatic, cheerfully submitted to his
power; and the kings beyond the Tigris and the Euphrates
congratulated his election, and offered him their homage and
services. The mind of Niger was not capable of receiving this
sudden tide of fortune: he flattered himself that his accession
would be undisturbed by competition and unstained by civil blood;
and whilst he enjoyed the vain pomp of triumph, he neglected to
secure the means of victory. Instead of entering into an
effectual negotiation with the powerful armies of the West, whose
resolution might decide, or at least must balance, the mighty
contest; instead of advancing without delay towards Rome and
Italy, where his presence was impatiently expected, Niger trifled
away in the luxury of Antioch those irretrievable moments which
were diligently improved by the decisive activity of Severus.
The country of Pannonia and Dalmatia, which occupied the space
between the Danube and the Hadriatic, was one of the last and
most difficult conquests of the Romans. In the defence of
national freedom, two hundred thousand of these barbarians had
once appeared in the field, alarmed the declining age of
Augustus, and exercised the vigilant prudence of Tiberius at the
head of the collected force of the empire. The Pannonians yielded
at length to the arms and institutions of Rome. Their recent
subjection, however, the neighborhood, and even the mixture, of
the unconquered tribes, and perhaps the climate, adapted, as it
has been observed, to the production of great bodies and slow
minds, all contributed to preserve some remains of their original
ferocity, and under the tame and uniform countenance of Roman
provincials, the hardy features of the natives were still to be
discerned. Their warlike youth afforded an inexhaustible supply
of recruits to the legions stationed on the banks of the Danube,
and which, from a perpetual warfare against the Germans and
Sarmazans, were deservedly esteemed the best troops in the
service.
The Pannonian army was at this time commanded by Septimius
Severus, a native of Africa, who, in the gradual ascent of
private honors, had concealed his daring ambition, which was
never diverted from its steady course by the allurements of
pleasure, the apprehension of danger, or the feelings of
humanity. On the first news of the murder of Pertinax, he
assembled his troops, painted in the most lively colors the
crime, the insolence, and the weakness of the Prætorian
guards, and animated the legions to arms and to revenge. He
concluded (and the peroration was thought extremely eloquent)
with promising every soldier about four hundred pounds; an
honorable donative, double in value to the infamous bribe with
which Julian had purchased the empire. The acclamations of the
army immediately saluted Severus with the names of Augustus,
Pertinax, and Emperor; and he thus attained the lofty station to
which he was invited, by conscious merit and a long train of
dreams and omens, the fruitful offsprings either of his
superstition or policy.
The new candidate for empire saw and improved the peculiar
advantage of his situation. His province extended to the Julian
Alps, which gave an easy access into Italy; and he remembered the
saying of Augustus, That a Pannonian army might in ten days
appear in sight of Rome. By a celerity proportioned to the
greatness of the occasion, he might reasonably hope to revenge
Pertinax, punish Julian, and receive the homage of the senate and
people, as their lawful emperor, before his competitors,
separated from Italy by an immense tract of sea and land, were
apprised of his success, or even of his election. During the
whole expedition, he scarcely allowed himself any moments for
sleep or food; marching on foot, and in complete armor, at the
head of his columns, he insinuated himself into the confidence
and affection of his troops, pressed their diligence, revived
their spirits, animated their hopes, and was well satisfied to
share the hardships of the meanest soldier, whilst he kept in
view the infinite superiority of his reward.
The wretched Julian had expected, and thought himself
prepared, to dispute the empire with the governor of Syria; but
in the invincible and rapid approach of the Pannonian legions, he
saw his inevitable ruin. The hasty arrival of every messenger
increased his just apprehensions. He was successively informed,
that Severus had passed the Alps; that the Italian cities,
unwilling or unable to oppose his progress, had received him with
the warmest professions of joy and duty; that the important place
of Ravenna had surrendered without resistance, and that the
Hadriatic fleet was in the hands of the conqueror. The enemy was
now within two hundred and fifty miles of Rome; and every moment
diminished the narrow span of life and empire allotted to
Julian.
He attempted, however, to prevent, or at least to protract,
his ruin. He implored the venal faith of the Prætorians,
filled the city with unavailing preparations for war, drew lines
round the suburbs, and even strengthened the fortifications of
the palace; as if those last intrenchments could be defended,
without hope of relief, against a victorious invader. Fear and
shame prevented the guards from deserting his standard; but they
trembled at the name of the Pannonian legions, commanded by an
experienced general, and accustomed to vanquish the barbarians on
the frozen Danube. They quitted, with a sigh, the pleasures of
the baths and theatres, to put on arms, whose use they had almost
forgotten, and beneath the weight of which they were oppressed.
The unpractised elephants, whose uncouth appearance, it was
hoped, would strike terror into the army of the north, threw
their unskilful riders; and the awkward evolutions of the
marines, drawn from the fleet of Misenum, were an object of
ridicule to the populace; whilst the senate enjoyed, with secret
pleasure, the distress and weakness of the usurper.
Every motion of Julian betrayed his trembling perplexity. He
insisted that Severus should be declared a public enemy by the
senate. He entreated that the Pannonian general might be
associated to the empire. He sent public ambassadors of consular
rank to negotiate with his rival; he despatched private assassins
to take away his life. He designed that the Vestal virgins, and
all the colleges of priests, in their sacerdotal habits, and
bearing before them the sacred pledges of the Roman religion,
should advance in solemn procession to meet the Pannonian
legions; and, at the same time, he vainly tried to interrogate,
or to appease, the fates, by magic ceremonies and unlawful
sacrifices.
Chapter V: Sale Of The Empire To Didius Julianus.
-- Part II.
Severus, who dreaded neither his arms nor his enchantments,
guarded himself from the only danger of secret conspiracy, by the
faithful attendance of six hundred chosen men, who never quitted
his person or their cuirasses, either by night or by day, during
the whole march. Advancing with a steady and rapid course, he
passed, without difficulty, the defiles of the Apennine, received
into his party the troops and ambassadors sent to retard his
progress, and made a short halt at Interamnia, about seventy
miles from Rome. His victory was already secure, but the despair
of the Prætorians might have rendered it bloody; and
Severus had the laudable ambition of ascending the throne without
drawing the sword. His emissaries, dispersed in the capital,
assured the guards, that provided they would abandon their
worthless prince, and the perpetrators of the murder of Pertinax,
to the justice of the conqueror, he would no longer consider that
melancholy event as the act of the whole body. The faithless
Prætorians, whose resistance was supported only by sullen
obstinacy, gladly complied with the easy conditions, seized the
greatest part of the assassins, and signified to the senate, that
they no longer defended the cause of Julian. That assembly,
convoked by the consul, unanimously acknowledged Severus as
lawful emperor, decreed divine honors to Pertinax, and pronounced
a sentence of deposition and death against his unfortunate
successor. Julian was conducted into a private apartment of the
baths of the palace, and beheaded as a common criminal, after
having purchased, with an immense treasure, an anxious and
precarious reign of only sixty-six days. The almost incredible
expedition of Severus, who, in so short a space of time,
conducted a numerous army from the banks of the Danube to those
of the Tyber, proves at once the plenty of provisions produced by
agriculture and commerce, the goodness of the roads, the
discipline of the legions, and the indolent, subdued temper of
the provinces.
The first cares of Severus were bestowed on two measures the
one dictated by policy, the other by decency; the revenge, and
the honors, due to the memory of Pertinax. Before the new emperor
entered Rome, he issued his commands to the Prætorian
guards, directing them to wait his arrival on a large plain near
the city, without arms, but in the habits of ceremony, in which
they were accustomed to attend their sovereign. He was obeyed by
those haughty troops, whose contrition was the effect of their
just terrors. A chosen part of the Illyrian army encompassed them
with levelled spears. Incapable of flight or resistance, they
expected their fate in silent consternation. Severus mounted the
tribunal, sternly reproached them with perfidy and cowardice,
dismissed them with ignominy from the trust which they had
betrayed, despoiled them of their splendid ornaments, and
banished them, on pain of death, to the distance of a hundred
miles from the capital. During the transaction, another
detachment had been sent to seize their arms, occupy their camp,
and prevent the hasty consequences of their despair.
The funeral and consecration of Pertinax was next solemnized
with every circumstance of sad magnificence. The senate, with a
melancholy pleasure, performed the last rites to that excellent
prince, whom they had loved, and still regretted. The concern of
his successor was probably less sincere; he esteemed the virtues
of Pertinax, but those virtues would forever have confined his
ambition to a private station. Severus pronounced his funeral
oration with studied eloquence, inward satisfaction, and
well-acted sorrow; and by this pious regard to his memory,
convinced the credulous multitude, that he alone was worthy to
supply his place. Sensible, however, that arms, not ceremonies,
must assert his claim to the empire, he left Rome at the end of
thirty days, and without suffering himself to be elated by this
easy victory, prepared to encounter his more formidable
rivals.
The uncommon abilities and fortune of Severus have induced an
elegant historian to compare him with the first and greatest of
the Cæsars. The parallel is, at least, imperfect. Where
shall we find, in the character of Severus, the commanding
superiority of soul, the generous clemency, and the various
genius, which could reconcile and unite the love of pleasure, the
thirst of knowledge, and the fire of ambition? In one instance
only, they may be compared, with some degree of propriety, in the
celerity of their motions, and their civil victories. In less
than four years, Severus subdued the riches of the East, and the
valor of the West. He vanquished two competitors of reputation
and ability, and defeated numerous armies, provided with weapons
and discipline equal to his own. In that age, the art of
fortification, and the principles of tactics, were well
understood by all the Roman generals; and the constant
superiority of Severus was that of an artist, who uses the same
instruments with more skill and industry than his rivals. I shall
not, however, enter into a minute narrative of these military
operations; but as the two civil wars against Niger and against
Albinus were almost the same in their conduct, event, and
consequences, I shall collect into one point of view the most
striking circumstances, tending to develop the character of the
conqueror and the state of the empire.
Falsehood and insincerity, unsuitable as they seem to the
dignity of public transactions, offend us with a less degrading
idea of meanness, than when they are found in the intercourse of
private life. In the latter, they discover a want of courage; in
the other, only a defect of power: and, as it is impossible for
the most able statesmen to subdue millions of followers and
enemies by their own personal strength, the world, under the name
of policy, seems to have granted them a very liberal indulgence
of craft and dissimulation. Yet the arts of Severus cannot be
justified by the most ample privileges of state reason. He
promised only to betray, he flattered only to ruin; and however
he might occasionally bind himself by oaths and treaties, his
conscience, obsequious to his interest, always released him from
the inconvenient obligation.
If his two competitors, reconciled by their common danger, had
advanced upon him without delay, perhaps Severus would have sunk
under their united effort. Had they even attacked him, at the
same time, with separate views and separate armies, the contest
might have been long and doubtful. But they fell, singly and
successively, an easy prey to the arts as well as arms of their
subtle enemy, lulled into security by the moderation of his
professions, and overwhelmed by the rapidity of his action. He
first marched against Niger, whose reputation and power he the
most dreaded: but he declined any hostile declarations,
suppressed the name of his antagonist, and only signified to the
senate and people his intention of regulating the eastern
provinces. In private, he spoke of Niger, his old friend and
intended successor, with the most affectionate regard, and highly
applauded his generous design of revenging the murder of
Pertinax. To punish the vile usurper of the throne, was the duty
of every Roman general. To persevere in arms, and to resist a
lawful emperor, acknowledged by the senate, would alone render
him criminal. The sons of Niger had fallen into his hands among
the children of the provincial governors, detained at Rome as
pledges for the loyalty of their parents. As long as the power of
Niger inspired terror, or even respect, they were educated with
the most tender care, with the children of Severus himself; but
they were soon involved in their father's ruin, and removed first
by exile, and afterwards by death, from the eye of public
compassion.
Whilst Severus was engaged in his eastern war, he had reason
to apprehend that the governor of Britain might pass the sea and
the Alps, occupy the vacant seat of empire, and oppose his return
with the authority of the senate and the forces of the West. The
ambiguous conduct of Albinus, in not assuming the Imperial title,
left room for negotiation. Forgetting, at once, his professions
of patriotism, and the jealousy of sovereign power, he accepted
the precarious rank of Cæsar, as a reward for his fatal
neutrality. Till the first contest was decided, Severus treated
the man, whom he had doomed to destruction, with every mark of
esteem and regard. Even in the letter, in which he announced his
victory over Niger, he styles Albinus the brother of his soul and
empire, sends him the affectionate salutations of his wife Julia,
and his young family, and entreats him to preserve the armies and
the republic faithful to their common interest. The messengers
charged with this letter were instructed to accost the
Cæsar with respect, to desire a private audience, and to
plunge their daggers into his heart. The conspiracy was
discovered, and the too credulous Albinus, at length, passed over
to the continent, and prepared for an unequal contest with his
rival, who rushed upon him at the head of a veteran and
victorious army.
The military labors of Severus seem inadequate to the
importance of his conquests. Two engagements, * the one near the
Hellespont, the other in the narrow defiles of Cilicia, decided
the fate of his Syrian competitor; and the troops of Europe
asserted their usual ascendant over the effeminate natives of
Asia. The battle of Lyons, where one hundred and fifty thousand
Romans were engaged, was equally fatal to Albinus. The valor of
the British army maintained, indeed, a sharp and doubtful
contest, with the hardy discipline of the Illyrian legions. The
fame and person of Severus appeared, during a few moments,
irrecoverably lost, till that warlike prince rallied his fainting
troops, and led them on to a decisive victory. The war was
finished by that memorable day.
The civil wars of modern Europe have been distinguished, not
only by the fierce animosity, but likewise by the obstinate
perseverance, of the contending factions. They have generally
been justified by some principle, or, at least, colored by some
pretext, of religion, freedom, or loyalty. The leaders were
nobles of independent property and hereditary influence. The
troops fought like men interested in the decision of the quarrel;
and as military spirit and party zeal were strongly diffused
throughout the whole community, a vanquished chief was
immediately supplied with new adherents, eager to shed their
blood in the same cause. But the Romans, after the fall of the
republic, combated only for the choice of masters. Under the
standard of a popular candidate for empire, a few enlisted from
affection, some from fear, many from interest, none from
principle. The legions, uninflamed by party zeal, were allured
into civil war by liberal donatives, and still more liberal
promises. A defeat, by disabling the chief from the performance
of his engagements, dissolved the mercenary allegiance of his
followers, and left them to consult their own safety by a timely
desertion of an unsuccessful cause. It was of little moment to
the provinces, under whose name they were oppressed or governed;
they were driven by the impulsion of the present power, and as
soon as that power yielded to a superior force, they hastened to
implore the clemency of the conqueror, who, as he had an immense
debt to discharge, was obliged to sacrifice the most guilty
countries to the avarice of his soldiers. In the vast extent of
the Roman empire, there were few fortified cities capable of
protecting a routed army; nor was there any person, or family, or
order of men, whose natural interest, unsupported by the powers
of government, was capable of restoring the cause of a sinking
party.
Yet, in the contest between Niger and Severus, a single city
deserves an honorable exception. As Byzantium was one of the
greatest passages from Europe into Asia, it had been provided
with a strong garrison, and a fleet of five hundred vessels was
anchored in the harbor. The impetuosity of Severus disappointed
this prudent scheme of defence; he left to his generals the siege
of Byzantium, forced the less guarded passage of the Hellespont,
and, impatient of a meaner enemy, pressed forward to encounter
his rival. Byzantium, attacked by a numerous and increasing army,
and afterwards by the whole naval power of the empire, sustained
a siege of three years, and remained faithful to the name and
memory of Niger. The citizens and soldiers (we know not from what
cause) were animated with equal fury; several of the principal
officers of Niger, who despaired of, or who disdained, a pardon,
had thrown themselves into this last refuge: the fortifications
were esteemed impregnable, and, in the defence of the place, a
celebrated engineer displayed all the mechanic powers known to
the ancients. Byzantium, at length, surrendered to famine. The
magistrates and soldiers were put to the sword, the walls
demolished, the privileges suppressed, and the destined capital
of the East subsisted only as an open village, subject to the
insulting jurisdiction of Perinthus. The historian Dion, who had
admired the flourishing, and lamented the desolate, state of
Byzantium, accused the revenge of Severus, for depriving the
Roman people of the strongest bulwark against the barbarians of
Pontus and Asia The truth of this observation was but too well
justified in the succeeding age, when the Gothic fleets covered
the Euxine, and passed through the undefined Bosphorus into the
centre of the Mediterranean.
Both Niger and Albinus were discovered and put to death in
their flight from the field of battle. Their fate excited neither
surprise nor compassion. They had staked their lives against the
chance of empire, and suffered what they would have inflicted;
nor did Severus claim the arrogant superiority of suffering his
rivals to live in a private station. But his unforgiving temper,
stimulated by avarice, indulged a spirit of revenge, where there
was no room for apprehension. The most considerable of the
provincials, who, without any dislike to the fortunate candidate,
had obeyed the governor under whose authority they were
accidentally placed, were punished by death, exile, and
especially by the confiscation of their estates. Many cities of
the East were stripped of their ancient honors, and obliged to
pay, into the treasury of Severus, four times the amount of the
sums contributed by them for the service of Niger.
Till the final decision of the war, the cruelty of Severus
was, in some measure, restrained by the uncertainty of the event,
and his pretended reverence for the senate. The head of Albinus,
accompanied with a menacing letter, announced to the Romans that
he was resolved to spare none of the adherents of his unfortunate
competitors. He was irritated by the just suspicion that he had
never possessed the affections of the senate, and he concealed
his old malevolence under the recent discovery of some
treasonable correspondences. Thirty-five senators, however,
accused of having favored the party of Albinus, he freely
pardoned, and, by his subsequent behavior, endeavored to convince
them, that he had forgotten, as well as forgiven, their supposed
offences. But, at the same time, he condemned forty-one other
senators, whose names history has recorded; their wives,
children, and clients attended them in death, * and the noblest
provincials of Spain and Gaul were involved in the same ruin.
Such rigid justice -- for so he termed it -- was, in the opinion
of Severus, the only conduct capable of insuring peace to the
people or stability to the prince; and he condescended slightly
to lament, that to be mild, it was necessary that he should first
be cruel.
The true interest of an absolute monarch generally coincides
with that of his people. Their numbers, their wealth, their
order, and their security, are the best and only foundations of
his real greatness; and were he totally devoid of virtue,
prudence might supply its place, and would dictate the same rule
of conduct. Severus considered the Roman empire as his property,
and had no sooner secured the possession, than he bestowed his
care on the cultivation and improvement of so valuable an
acquisition. Salutary laws, executed with inflexible firmness,
soon corrected most of the abuses with which, since the death of
Marcus, every part of the government had been infected. In the
administration of justice, the judgments of the emperor were
characterized by attention, discernment, and impartiality; and
whenever he deviated from the strict line of equity, it was
generally in favor of the poor and oppressed; not so much indeed
from any sense of humanity, as from the natural propensity of a
despot to humble the pride of greatness, and to sink all his
subjects to the same common level of absolute dependence. His
expensive taste for building, magnificent shows, and above all a
constant and liberal distribution of corn and provisions, were
the surest means of captivating the affection of the Roman
people. The misfortunes of civil discord were obliterated. The
clam of peace and prosperity was once more experienced in the
provinces; and many cities, restored by the munificence of
Severus, assumed the title of his colonies, and attested by
public monuments their gratitude and felicity. The fame of the
Roman arms was revived by that warlike and successful emperor,
and he boasted, with a just pride, that, having received the
empire oppressed with foreign and domestic wars, he left it
established in profound, universal, and honorable peace.
Although the wounds of civil war appeared completely healed,
its mortal poison still lurked in the vitals of the constitution.
Severus possessed a considerable share of vigor and ability; but
the daring soul of the first Cæsar, or the deep policy of
Augustus, were scarcely equal to the task of curbing the
insolence of the victorious legions. By gratitude, by misguided
policy, by seeming necessity, Severus was reduced to relax the
nerves of discipline. The vanity of his soldiers was flattered
with the honor of wearing gold rings their ease was indulged in
the permission of living with their wives in the idleness of
quarters. He increased their pay beyond the example of former
times, and taught them to expect, and soon to claim,
extraordinary donatives on every public occasion of danger or
festivity. Elated by success, enervated by luxury, and raised
above the level of subjects by their dangerous privileges, they
soon became incapable of military fatigue, oppressive to the
country, and impatient of a just subordination. Their officers
asserted the superiority of rank by a more profuse and elegant
luxury. There is still extant a letter of Severus, lamenting the
licentious stage of the army, * and exhorting one of his generals
to begin the necessary reformation from the tribunes themselves;
since, as he justly observes, the officer who has forfeited the
esteem, will never command the obedience, of his soldiers. Had
the emperor pursued the train of reflection, he would have
discovered, that the primary cause of this general corruption
might be ascribed, not indeed to the example, but to the
pernicious indulgence, however, of the commander-in-chief.
The Prætorians, who murdered their emperor and sold the
empire, had received the just punishment of their treason; but
the necessary, though dangerous, institution of guards was soon
restored on a new model by Severus, and increased to four times
the ancient number. Formerly these troops had been recruited in
Italy; and as the adjacent provinces gradually imbibed the softer
manners of Rome, the levies were extended to Macedonia, Noricum,
and Spain. In the room of these elegant troops, better adapted to
the pomp of courts than to the uses of war, it was established by
Severus, that from all the legions of the frontiers, the soldiers
most distinguished for strength, valor, and fidelity, should be
occasionally draughted; and promoted, as an honor and reward,
into the more eligible service of the guards. By this new
institution, the Italian youth were diverted from the exercise of
arms, and the capital was terrified by the strange aspect and
manners of a multitude of barbarians. But Severus flattered
himself, that the legions would consider these chosen
Prætorians as the representatives of the whole military
order; and that the present aid of fifty thousand men, superior
in arms and appointments to any force that could be brought into
the field against them, would forever crush the hopes of
rebellion, and secure the empire to himself and his
posterity.
The command of these favored and formidable troops soon became
the first office of the empire. As the government degenerated
into military despotism, the Prætorian Præfect, who
in his origin had been a simple captain of the guards, * was
placed not only at the head of the army, but of the finances, and
even of the law. In every department of administration, he
represented the person, and exercised the authority, of the
emperor. The first præfect who enjoyed and abused this
immense power was Plautianus, the favorite minister of Severus.
His reign lasted above then years, till the marriage of his
daughter with the eldest son of the emperor, which seemed to
assure his fortune, proved the occasion of his ruin. The
animosities of the palace, by irritating the ambition and
alarming the fears of Plautianus, threatened to produce a
revolution, and obliged the emperor, who still loved him, to
consent with reluctance to his death. After the fall of
Plautianus, an eminent lawyer, the celebrated Papinian, was
appointed to execute the motley office of Prætorian
Præfect.
Till the reign of Severus, the virtue and even the good sense
of the emperors had been distinguished by their zeal or affected
reverence for the senate, and by a tender regard to the nice
frame of civil policy instituted by Augustus. But the youth of
Severus had been trained in the implicit obedience of camps, and
his riper years spent in the despotism of military command. His
haughty and inflexible spirit could' not discover, or would not
acknowledge, the advantage of preserving an intermediate power,
however imaginary, between the emperor and the army. He disdained
to profess himself the servant of an assembly that detested his
person and trembled at his frown; he issued his commands, where
his requests would have proved as effectual; assumed the conduct
and style of a sovereign and a conqueror, and exercised, without
disguise, the whole legislative, as well as the executive
power.
The victory over the senate was easy and inglorious. Every eye
and every passion were directed to the supreme magistrate, who
possessed the arms and treasure of the state; whilst the senate,
neither elected by the people, nor guarded by military force, nor
animated by public spirit, rested its declining authority on the
frail and crumbling basis of ancient opinion. The fine theory of
a republic insensibly vanished, and made way for the more natural
and substantial feelings of monarchy. As the freedom and honors
of Rome were successively communicated to the provinces, in which
the old government had been either unknown, or was remembered
with abhorrence, the tradition of republican maxims was gradually
obliterated. The Greek historians of the age of the Antonines
observe, with a malicious pleasure, that although the sovereign
of Rome, in compliance with an obsolete prejudice, abstained from
the name of king, he possessed the full measure of regal power.
In the reign of Severus, the senate was filled with polished and
eloquent slaves from the eastern provinces, who justified
personal flattery by speculative principles of servitude. These
new advocates of prerogative were heard with pleasure by the
court, and with patience by the people, when they inculcated the
duty of passive obedience, and descanted on the inevitable
mischiefs of freedom. The lawyers and historians concurred in
teaching, that the Imperial authority was held, not by the
delegated commission, but by the irrevocable resignation of the
senate; that the emperor was freed from the restraint of civil
laws, could command by his arbitrary will the lives and fortunes
of his subjects, and might dispose of the empire as of his
private patrimony. The most eminent of the civil lawyers, and
particularly Papinian, Paulus, and Ulpian, flourished under the
house of Severus; and the Roman jurisprudence, having closely
united itself with the system of monarchy, was supposed to have
attained its full majority and perfection.
The contemporaries of Severus in the enjoyment of the peace
and glory of his reign, forgave the cruelties by which it had
been introduced. Posterity, who experienced the fatal effects of
his maxims and example, justly considered him as the principal
author of the decline of the Roman empire.
Chapter VI: Death Of Severus, Tyranny Of Caracalla, Usurpation Of Marcinus.
Part I.
The Death Of Severus. -- Tyranny Of Caracalla. -- Usurpation
Of Macrinus. -- Follies Of Elagabalus. -- Virtues Of Alexander
Severus. -- Licentiousness Of The Army. -- General State Of The
Roman Finances.
The ascent to greatness, however steep and dangerous, may
entertain an active spirit with the consciousness and exercise of
its own powers: but the possession of a throne could never yet
afford a lasting satisfaction to an ambitious mind. This
melancholy truth was felt and acknowledged by Severus. Fortune
and merit had, from an humble station, elevated him to the first
place among mankind. "He had been all things," as he said
himself, "and all was of little value" Distracted with the care,
not of acquiring, but of preserving an empire, oppressed with age
and infirmities, careless of fame, and satiated with power, all
his prospects of life were closed. The desire of perpetuating the
greatness of his family was the only remaining wish of his
ambition and paternal tenderness.
Like most of the Africans, Severus was passionately addicted
to the vain studies of magic and divination, deeply versed in the
interpretation of dreams and omens, and perfectly acquainted with
the science of judicial astrology; which, in almost every age
except the present, has maintained its dominion over the mind of
man. He had lost his first wife, while he was governor of the
Lionnese Gaul. In the choice of a second, he sought only to
connect himself with some favorite of fortune; and as soon as he
had discovered that the young lady of Emesa in Syria had a royal
nativity, he solicited and obtained her hand. Julia Domna (for
that was her name) deserved all that the stars could promise her.
She possessed, even in advanced age, the attractions of beauty,
and united to a lively imagination a firmness of mind, and
strength of judgment, seldom bestowed on her sex. Her amiable
qualities never made any deep impression on the dark and jealous
temper of her husband; but in her son's reign, she administered
the principal affairs of the empire, with a prudence that
supported his authority, and with a moderation that sometimes
corrected his wild extravagancies. Julia applied herself to
letters and philosophy, with some success, and with the most
splendid reputation. She was the patroness of every art, and the
friend of every man of genius. The grateful flattery of the
learned has celebrated her virtues; but, if we may credit the
scandal of ancient history, chastity was very far from being the
most conspicuous virtue of the empress Julia.
Two sons, Caracalla and Geta, were the fruit of this marriage,
and the destined heirs of the empire. The fond hopes of the
father, and of the Roman world, were soon disappointed by these
vain youths, who displayed the indolent security of hereditary
princes; and a presumption that fortune would supply the place of
merit and application. Without any emulation of virtue or
talents, they discovered, almost from their infancy, a fixed and
implacable antipathy for each other.
Their aversion, confirmed by years, and fomented by the arts
of their interested favorites, broke out in childish, and
gradually in more serious competitions; and, at length, divided
the theatre, the circus, and the court, into two factions,
actuated by the hopes and fears of their respective leaders. The
prudent emperor endeavored, by every expedient of advice and
authority, to allay this growing animosity. The unhappy discord
of his sons clouded all his prospects, and threatened to overturn
a throne raised with so much labor, cemented with so much blood,
and guarded with every defence of arms and treasure. With an
impartial hand he maintained between them an exact balance of
favor, conferred on both the rank of Augustus, with the revered
name of Antoninus; and for the first time the Roman world beheld
three emperors. Yet even this equal conduct served only to
inflame the contest, whilst the fierce Caracalla asserted the
right of primogeniture, and the milder Geta courted the
affections of the people and the soldiers. In the anguish of a
disappointed father, Severus foretold that the weaker of his sons
would fall a sacrifice to the stronger; who, in his turn, would
be ruined by his own vices.
In these circumstances the intelligence of a war in Britain,
and of an invasion of the province by the barbarians of the
North, was received with pleasure by Severus. Though the
vigilance of his lieutenants might have been sufficient to repel
the distant enemy, he resolved to embrace the honorable pretext
of withdrawing his sons from the luxury of Rome, which enervated
their minds and irritated their passions; and of inuring their
youth to the toils of war and government. Notwithstanding his
advanced age, (for he was above threescore,) and his gout, which
obliged him to be carried in a litter, he transported himself in
person into that remote island, attended by his two sons, his
whole court, and a formidable army. He immediately passed the
walls of Hadrian and Antoninus, and entered the enemy's country,
with a design of completing the long attempted conquest of
Britain. He penetrated to the northern extremity of the island,
without meeting an enemy. But the concealed ambuscades of the
Caledonians, who hung unseen on the rear and flanks of his army,
the coldness of the climate and the severity of a winter march
across the hills and morasses of Scotland, are reported to have
cost the Romans above fifty thousand men. The Caledonians at
length yielded to the powerful and obstinate attack, sued for
peace, and surrendered a part of their arms, and a large tract of
territory. But their apparent submission lasted no longer than
the present terror. As soon as the Roman legions had retired,
they resumed their hostile independence. Their restless spirit
provoked Severus to send a new army into Caledonia, with the most
bloody orders, not to subdue, but to extirpate the natives. They
were saved by the death of their haughty enemy.
This Caledonian war, neither marked by decisive events, nor
attended with any important consequences, would ill deserve our
attention; but it is supposed, not without a considerable degree
of probability, that the invasion of Severus is connected with
the most shining period of the British history or fable. Fingal,
whose fame, with that of his heroes and bards, has been revived
in our language by a recent publication, is said to have
commanded the Caledonians in that memorable juncture, to have
eluded the power of Severus, and to have obtained a signal
victory on the banks of the Carun, in which the son of the
King of the World, Caracul, fled from his arms along the
fields of his pride. Something of a doubtful mist still hangs
over these Highland traditions; nor can it be entirely dispelled
by the most ingenious researches of modern criticism; but if we
could, with safety, indulge the pleasing supposition, that Fingal
lived, and that Ossian sung, the striking contrast of the
situation and manners of the contending nations might amuse a
philosophic mind. The parallel would be little to the advantage
of the more civilized people, if we compared the unrelenting
revenge of Severus with the generous clemency of Fingal; the
timid and brutal cruelty of Caracalla with the bravery, the
tenderness, the elegant genius of Ossian; the mercenary chiefs,
who, from motives of fear or interest, served under the imperial
standard, with the free-born warriors who started to arms at the
voice of the king of Morven; if, in a word, we contemplated the
untutored Caledonians, glowing with the warm virtues of nature,
and the degenerate Romans, polluted with the mean vices of wealth
and slavery.
The declining health and last illness of Severus inflamed the
wild ambition and black passions of Caracalla's soul. Impatient
of any delay or division of empire, he attempted, more than once,
to shorten the small remainder of his father's days, and
endeavored, but without success, to excite a mutiny among the
troops. The old emperor had often censured the misguided lenity
of Marcus, who, by a single act of justice, might have saved the
Romans from the tyranny of his worthless son. Placed in the same
situation, he experienced how easily the rigor of a judge
dissolves away in the tenderness of a parent. He deliberated, he
threatened, but he could not punish; and this last and only
instance of mercy was more fatal to the empire than a long series
of cruelty. The disorder of his mind irritated the pains of his
body; he wished impatiently for death, and hastened the instant
of it by his impatience. He expired at York in the sixty-fifth
year of his life, and in the eighteenth of a glorious and
successful reign. In his last moments he recommended concord to
his sons, and his sons to the army. The salutary advice never
reached the heart, or even the understanding, of the impetuous
youths; but the more obedient troops, mindful of their oath of
allegiance, and of the authority of their deceased master,
resisted the solicitations of Caracalla, and proclaimed both
brothers emperors of Rome. The new princes soon left the
Caledonians in peace, returned to the capital, celebrated their
father's funeral with divine honors, and were cheerfully
acknowledged as lawful sovereigns, by the senate, the people, and
the provinces. Some preeminence of rank seems to have been
allowed to the elder brother; but they both administered the
empire with equal and independent power.
Such a divided form of government would have proved a source
of discord between the most affectionate brothers. It was
impossible that it could long subsist between two implacable
enemies, who neither desired nor could trust a reconciliation. It
was visible that one only could reign, and that the other must
fall; and each of them, judging of his rival's designs by his
own, guarded his life with the most jealous vigilance from the
repeated attacks of poison or the sword. Their rapid journey
through Gaul and Italy, during which they never ate at the same
table, or slept in the same house, displayed to the provinces the
odious spectacle of fraternal discord. On their arrival at Rome,
they immediately divided the vast extent of the imperial palace.
No communication was allowed between their apartments; the doors
and passages were diligently fortified, and guards posted and
relieved with the same strictness as in a besieged place. The
emperors met only in public, in the presence of their afflicted
mother; and each surrounded by a numerous train of armed
followers. Even on these occasions of ceremony, the dissimulation
of courts could ill disguise the rancor of their hearts.
This latent civil war already distracted the whole government,
when a scheme was suggested that seemed of mutual benefit to the
hostile brothers. It was proposed, that since it was impossible
to reconcile their minds, they should separate their interest,
and divide the empire between them. The conditions of the treaty
were already drawn with some accuracy. It was agreed that
Caracalla, as the elder brother should remain in possession of
Europe and the western Africa; and that he should relinquish the
sovereignty of Asia and Egypt to Geta, who might fix his
residence at Alexandria or Antioch, cities little inferior to
Rome itself in wealth and greatness; that numerous armies should
be constantly encamped on either side of the Thracian Bosphorus,
to guard the frontiers of the rival monarchies; and that the
senators of European extraction should acknowledge the sovereign
of Rome, whilst the natives of Asia followed the emperor of the
East. The tears of the empress Julia interrupted the negotiation,
the first idea of which had filled every Roman breast with
surprise and indignation. The mighty mass of conquest was so
intimately united by the hand of time and policy, that it
required the most forcible violence to rend it asunder. The
Romans had reason to dread, that the disjointed members would
soon be reduced by a civil war under the dominion of one master;
but if the separation was permanent, the division of the
provinces must terminate in the dissolution of an empire whose
unity had hitherto remained inviolate.
Had the treaty been carried into execution, the sovereign of
Europe might soon have been the conqueror of Asia; but Caracalla
obtained an easier, though a more guilty, victory. He artfully
listened to his mother's entreaties, and consented to meet his
brother in her apartment, on terms of peace and reconciliation.
In the midst of their conversation, some centurions, who had
contrived to conceal themselves, rushed with drawn swords upon
the unfortunate Geta. His distracted mother strove to protect him
in her arms; but, in the unavailing struggle, she was wounded in
the hand, and covered with the blood of her younger son, while
she saw the elder animating and assisting the fury of the
assassins. As soon as the deed was perpetrated, Caracalla, with
hasty steps, and horror in his countenance, ran towards the
Prætorian camp, as his only refuge, and threw himself on
the ground before the statues of the tutelar deities. The
soldiers attempted to raise and comfort him. In broken and
disordered words he informed them of his imminent danger, and
fortunate escape; insinuating that he had prevented the designs
of his enemy, and declared his resolution to live and die with
his faithful troops. Geta had been the favorite of the soldiers;
but complaint was useless, revenge was dangerous, and they still
reverenced the son of Severus. Their discontent died away in idle
murmurs, and Caracalla soon convinced them of the justice of his
cause, by distributing in one lavish donative the accumulated
treasures of his father's reign. The real sentiments of
the soldiers alone were of importance to his power or safety.
Their declaration in his favor commanded the dutiful
professions of the senate. The obsequious assembly was
always prepared to ratify the decision of fortune; * but as
Caracalla wished to assuage the first emotions of public
indignation, the name of Geta was mentioned with decency, and he
received the funeral honors of a Roman emperor. Posterity, in
pity to his misfortune, has cast a veil over his vices. We
consider that young prince as the innocent victim of his
brother's ambition, without recollecting that he himself wanted
power, rather than inclination, to consummate the same attempts
of revenge and murder.
The crime went not unpunished. Neither business, nor pleasure,
nor flattery, could defend Caracalla from the stings of a guilty
conscience; and he confessed, in the anguish of a tortured mind,
that his disordered fancy often beheld the angry forms of his
father and his brother rising into life, to threaten and upbraid
him. The consciousness of his crime should have induced him to
convince mankind, by the virtues of his reign, that the bloody
deed had been the involuntary effect of fatal necessity. But the
repentance of Caracalla only prompted him to remove from the
world whatever could remind him of his guilt, or recall the
memory of his murdered brother. On his return from the senate to
the palace, he found his mother in the company of several noble
matrons, weeping over the untimely fate of her younger son. The
jealous emperor threatened them with instant death; the sentence
was executed against Fadilla, the last remaining daughter of the
emperor Marcus; * and even the afflicted Julia was obliged to
silence her lamentations, to suppress her sighs, and to receive
the assassin with smiles of joy and approbation. It was computed
that, under the vague appellation of the friends of Geta, above
twenty thousand persons of both sexes suffered death. His guards
and freedmen, the ministers of his serious business, and the
companions of his looser hours, those who by his interest had
been promoted to any commands in the army or provinces, with the
long connected chain of their dependants, were included in the
proscription; which endeavored to reach every one who had
maintained the smallest correspondence with Geta, who lamented
his death, or who even mentioned his name. Helvius Pertinax, son
to the prince of that name, lost his life by an unseasonable
witticism. It was a sufficient crime of Thrasea Priscus to be
descended from a family in which the love of liberty seemed an
hereditary quality. The particular causes of calumny and
suspicion were at length exhausted; and when a senator was
accused of being a secret enemy to the government, the emperor
was satisfied with the general proof that he was a man of
property and virtue. From this well-grounded principle he
frequently drew the most bloody inferences.
Chapter VI: Death Of Severus, Tyranny Of
Caracalla, Usurpation Of Marcinus. -- Part II.
The execution of so many innocent citizens was bewailed by the
secret tears of their friends and families. The death of
Papinian, the Prætorian Præfect, was lamented as a
public calamity. During the last seven years of Severus, he had
exercised the most important offices of the state, and, by his
salutary influence, guided the emperor's steps in the paths of
justice and moderation. In full assurance of his virtue and
abilities, Severus, on his death-bed, had conjured him to watch
over the prosperity and union of the Imperial family. The honest
labors of Papinian served only to inflame the hatred which
Caracalla had already conceived against his father's minister.
After the murder of Geta, the Præfect was commanded to
exert the powers of his skill and eloquence in a studied apology
for that atrocious deed. The philosophic Seneca had condescended
to compose a similar epistle to the senate, in the name of the
son and assassin of Agrippina. "That it was easier to commit than
to justify a parricide," was the glorious reply of Papinian; who
did not hesitate between the loss of life and that of honor. Such
intrepid virtue, which had escaped pure and unsullied from the
intrigues courts, the habits of business, and the arts of his
profession, reflects more lustre on the memory of Papinian, than
all his great employments, his numerous writings, and the
superior reputation as a lawyer, which he has preserved through
every age of the Roman jurisprudence.
It had hitherto been the peculiar felicity of the Romans, and
in the worst of times the consolation, that the virtue of the
emperors was active, and their vice indolent. Augustus, Trajan,
Hadrian, and Marcus visited their extensive dominions in person,
and their progress was marked by acts of wisdom and beneficence.
The tyranny of Tiberius, Nero, and Domitian, who resided almost
constantly at Rome, or in the adjacent was confined to the
senatorial and equestrian orders. But Caracalla was the common
enemy of mankind. He left capital (and he never returned to it)
about a year after the murder of Geta. The rest of his reign was
spent in the several provinces of the empire, particularly those
of the East, and province was by turns the scene of his rapine
and cruelty. The senators, compelled by fear to attend his
capricious motions, were obliged to provide daily entertainments
at an immense expense, which he abandoned with contempt to his
guards; and to erect, in every city, magnificent palaces and
theatres, which he either disdained to visit, or ordered
immediately thrown down. The most wealthy families ruined by
partial fines and confiscations, and the great body of his
subjects oppressed by ingenious and aggravated taxes. In the
midst of peace, and upon the slightest provocation, he issued his
commands, at Alexandria, in Egypt for a general massacre. From a
secure post in the temple of Serapis, he viewed and directed the
slaughter of many thousand citizens, as well as strangers,
without distinguishing the number or the crime of the sufferers;
since as he coolly informed the senate, allthe
Alexandrians, those who perished, and those who had escaped, were
alike guilty.
The wise instructions of Severus never made any lasting
impression on the mind of his son, who, although not destitute of
imagination and eloquence, was equally devoid of judgment and
humanity. One dangerous maxim, worthy of a tyrant, was remembered
and abused by Caracalla. "To secure the affections of the army,
and to esteem the rest of his subjects as of little moment." But
the liberality of the father had been restrained by prudence, and
his indulgence to the troops was tempered by firmness and
authority. The careless profusion of the son was the policy of
one reign, and the inevitable ruin both of the army and of the
empire. The vigor of the soldiers, instead of being confirmed by
the severe discipline of camps, melted away in the luxury of
cities. The excessive increase of their pay and donatives
exhausted the state to enrich the military order, whose modesty
in peace, and service in war, is best secured by an honorable
poverty. The demeanor of Caracalla was haughty and full of pride;
but with the troops he forgot even the proper dignity of his
rank, encouraged their insolent familiarity, and, neglecting the
essential duties of a general, affected to imitate the dress and
manners of a common soldier.
It was impossible that such a character, and such conduct as
that of Caracalla, could inspire either love or esteem; but as
long as his vices were beneficial to the armies, he was secure
from the danger of rebellion. A secret conspiracy, provoked by
his own jealousy, was fatal to the tyrant. The Prætorian
præfecture was divided between two ministers. The military
department was intrusted to Adventus, an experienced rather than
able soldier; and the civil affairs were transacted by Opilius
Macrinus, who, by his dexterity in business, had raised himself,
with a fair character, to that high office. But his favor varied
with the caprice of the emperor, and his life might depend on the
slightest suspicion, or the most casual circumstance. Malice or
fanaticism had suggested to an African, deeply skilled in the
knowledge of futurity, a very dangerous prediction, that Macrinus
and his son were destined to reign over the empire. The report
was soon diffused through the province; and when the man was sent
in chains to Rome, he still asserted, in the presence of the
præfect of the city, the faith of his prophecy. That
magistrate, who had received the most pressing instructions to
inform himself of the successors of Caracalla,
immediately communicated the examination of the African to the
Imperial court, which at that time resided in Syria. But,
notwithstanding the diligence of the public messengers, a friend
of Macrinus found means to apprise him of the approaching danger.
The emperor received the letters from Rome; and as he was then
engaged in the conduct of a chariot race, he delivered them
unopened to the Prætorian Præfect, directing him to
despatch the ordinary affairs, and to report the more important
business that might be contained in them. Macrinus read his fate,
and resolved to prevent it. He inflamed the discontents of some
inferior officers, and employed the hand of Martialis, a
desperate soldier, who had been refused the rank of centurion.
The devotion of Caracalla prompted him to make a pilgrimage from
Edessa to the celebrated temple of the Moon at Carrhæ. * He
was attended by a body of cavalry: but having stopped on the road
for some necessary occasion, his guards preserved a respectful
distance, and Martialis, approaching his person under a presence
of duty, stabbed him with a dagger. The bold assassin was
instantly killed by a Scythian archer of the Imperial guard. Such
was the end of a monster whose life disgraced human nature, and
whose reign accused the patience of the Romans. The grateful
soldiers forgot his vices, remembered only his partial
liberality, and obliged the senate to prostitute their own
dignity and that of religion, by granting him a place among the
gods. Whilst he was upon earth, Alexander the Great was the only
hero whom this god deemed worthy his admiration. He assumed the
name and ensigns of Alexander, formed a Macedonian phalanx of
guards, persecuted the disciples of Aristotle, and displayed,
with a puerile enthusiasm, the only sentiment by which he
discovered any regard for virtue or glory. We can easily
conceive, that after the battle of Narva, and the conquest of
Poland, Charles XII. (though he still wanted the more elegant
accomplishments of the son of Philip) might boast of having
rivalled his valor and magnanimity; but in no one action of his
life did Caracalla express the faintest resemblance of the
Macedonian hero, except in the murder of a great number of his
own and of his father's friends.
After the extinction of the house of Severus, the Roman world
remained three days without a master. The choice of the army (for
the authority of a distant and feeble senate was little regarded)
hung in anxious suspense, as no candidate presented himself whose
distinguished birth and merit could engage their attachment and
unite their suffrages. The decisive weight of the Prætorian
guards elevated the hopes of their præfects, and these
powerful ministers began to assert their legal claim to
fill the vacancy of the Imperial throne. Adventus, however, the
senior præfect, conscious of his age and infirmities, of
his small reputation, and his smaller abilities, resigned the
dangerous honor to the crafty ambition of his colleague Macrinus,
whose well-dissembled grief removed all suspicion of his being
accessary to his master's death. The troops neither loved nor
esteemed his character. They cast their eyes around in search of
a competitor, and at last yielded with reluctance to his promises
of unbounded liberality and indulgence. A short time after his
accession, he conferred on his son Diadumenianus, at the age of
only ten years, the Imperial title, and the popular name of
Antoninus. The beautiful figure of the youth, assisted by an
additional donative, for which the ceremony furnished a pretext,
might attract, it was hoped, the favor of the army, and secure
the doubtful throne of Macrinus.
The authority of the new sovereign had been ratified by the
cheerful submission of the senate and provinces. They exulted in
their unexpected deliverance from a hated tyrant, and it seemed
of little consequence to examine into the virtues of the
successor of Caracalla. But as soon as the first transports of
joy and surprise had subsided, they began to scrutinize the
merits of Macrinus with a critical severity, and to arraign the
nasty choice of the army. It had hitherto been considered as a
fundamental maxim of the constitution, that the emperor must be
always chosen in the senate, and the sovereign power, no longer
exercised by the whole body, was always delegated to one of its
members. But Macrinus was not a senator. The sudden elevation of
the Prætorian præfects betrayed the meanness of their
origin; and the equestrian order was still in possession of that
great office, which commanded with arbitrary sway the lives and
fortunes of the senate. A murmur of indignation was heard, that a
man, whose obscure extraction had never been illustrated by any
signal service, should dare to invest himself with the purple,
instead of bestowing it on some distinguished senator, equal in
birth and dignity to the splendor of the Imperial station. As
soon as the character of Macrinus was surveyed by the sharp eye
of discontent, some vices, and many defects, were easily
discovered. The choice of his ministers was in many instances
justly censured, and the dissatisfied people, with their usual
candor, accused at once his indolent tameness and his excessive
severity.
His rash ambition had climbed a height where it was difficult
to stand with firmness, and impossible to fall without instant
destruction. Trained in the arts of courts and the forms of civil
business, he trembled in the presence of the fierce and
undisciplined multitude, over whom he had assumed the command;
his military talents were despised, and his personal courage
suspected; a whisper that circulated in the camp, disclosed the
fatal secret of the conspiracy against the late emperor,
aggravated the guilt of murder by the baseness of hypocrisy, and
heightened contempt by detestation. To alienate the soldiers, and
to provoke inevitable ruin, the character of a reformer was only
wanting; and such was the peculiar hardship of his fate, that
Macrinus was compelled to exercise that invidious office. The
prodigality of Caracalla had left behind it a long train of ruin
and disorder; and if that worthless tyrant had been capable of
reflecting on the sure consequences of his own conduct, he would
perhaps have enjoyed the dark prospect of the distress and
calamities which he bequeathed to his successors.
In the management of this necessary reformation, Macrinus
proceeded with a cautious prudence, which would have restored
health and vigor to the Roman army in an easy and almost
imperceptible manner. To the soldiers already engaged in the
service, he was constrained to leave the dangerous privileges and
extravagant pay given by Caracalla; but the new recruits were
received on the more moderate though liberal establishment of
Severus, and gradually formed to modesty and obedience. One fatal
error destroyed the salutary effects of this judicious plan. The
numerous army, assembled in the East by the late emperor, instead
of being immediately dispersed by Macrinus through the several
provinces, was suffered to remain united in Syria, during the
winter that followed his elevation. In the luxurious idleness of
their quarters, the troops viewed their strength and numbers,
communicated their complaints, and revolved in their minds the
advantages of another revolution. The veterans, instead of being
flattered by the advantageous distinction, were alarmed by the
first steps of the emperor, which they considered as the presage
of his future intentions. The recruits, with sullen reluctance,
entered on a service, whose labors were increased while its
rewards were diminished by a covetous and unwarlike sovereign.
The murmurs of the army swelled with impunity into seditious
clamors; and the partial mutinies betrayed a spirit of discontent
and disaffection that waited only for the slightest occasion to
break out on every side into a general rebellion. To minds thus
disposed, the occasion soon presented itself.
The empress Julia had experienced all the vicissitudes of
fortune. From an humble station she had been raised to greatness,
only to taste the superior bitterness of an exalted rank. She was
doomed to weep over the death of one of her sons, and over the
life of the other. The cruel fate of Caracalla, though her good
sense must have long taught her to expect it, awakened the
feelings of a mother and of an empress. Notwithstanding the
respectful civility expressed by the usurper towards the widow of
Severus, she descended with a painful struggle into the condition
of a subject, and soon withdrew herself, by a voluntary death,
from the anxious and humiliating dependence. * Julia Mæsa,
her sister, was ordered to leave the court and Antioch. She
retired to Emesa with an immense fortune, the fruit of twenty
years' favor accompanied by her two daughters, Soæmias and
Mamæ, each of whom was a widow, and each had an only son.
Bassianus, for that was the name of the son of Soæmias, was
consecrated to the honorable ministry of high priest of the Sun;
and this holy vocation, embraced either from prudence or
superstition, contributed to raise the Syrian youth to the empire
of Rome. A numerous body of troops was stationed at Emesa; and as
the severe discipline of Macrinus had constrained them to pass
the winter encamped, they were eager to revenge the cruelty of
such unaccustomed hardships. The soldiers, who resorted in crowds
to the temple of the Sun, beheld with veneration and delight the
elegant dress and figure of the young pontiff; they recognized,
or they thought that they recognized, the features of Caracalla,
whose memory they now adored. The artful Mæsa saw and
cherished their rising partiality, and readily sacrificing her
daughter's reputation to the fortune of her grandson, she
insinuated that Bassianus was the natural son of their murdered
sovereign. The sums distributed by her emissaries with a lavish
hand silenced every objection, and the profusion sufficiently
proved the affinity, or at least the resemblance, of Bassianus
with the great original. The young Antoninus (for he had assumed
and polluted that respectable name) was declared emperor by the
troops of Emesa, asserted his hereditary right, and called aloud
on the armies to follow the standard of a young and liberal
prince, who had taken up arms to revenge his father's death and
the oppression of the military order.
Whilst a conspiracy of women and eunuchs was concerted with
prudence, and conducted with rapid vigor, Macrinus, who, by a
decisive motion, might have crushed his infant enemy, floated
between the opposite extremes of terror and security, which alike
fixed him inactive at Antioch. A spirit of rebellion diffused
itself through all the camps and garrisons of Syria, successive
detachments murdered their officers, and joined the party of the
rebels; and the tardy restitution of military pay and privileges
was imputed to the acknowledged weakness of Macrinus. At length
he marched out of Antioch, to meet the increasing and zealous
army of the young pretender. His own troops seemed to take the
field with faintness and reluctance; but, in the heat of the
battle, the Prætorian guards, almost by an involuntary
impulse, asserted the superiority of their valor and discipline.
The rebel ranks were broken; when the mother and grandmother of
the Syrian prince, who, according to their eastern custom, had
attended the army, threw themselves from their covered chariots,
and, by exciting the compassion of the soldiers, endeavored to
animate their drooping courage. Antoninus himself, who, in the
rest of his life, never acted like a man, in this important
crisis of his fate, approved himself a hero, mounted his horse,
and, at the head of his rallied troops, charged sword in hand
among the thickest of the enemy; whilst the eunuch Gannys, *
whose occupations had been confined to female cares and the soft
luxury of Asia, displayed the talents of an able and experienced
general. The battle still raged with doubtful violence, and
Macrinus might have obtained the victory, had he not betrayed his
own cause by a shameful and precipitate flight. His cowardice
served only to protract his life a few days, and to stamp
deserved ignominy on his misfortunes. It is scarcely necessary to
add, that his son Diadumenianus was involved in the same fate. As
soon as the stubborn Prætorians could be convinced that
they fought for a prince who had basely deserted them, they
surrendered to the conqueror: the contending parties of the Roman
army, mingling tears of joy and tenderness, united under the
banners of the imagined son of Caracalla, and the East
acknowledged with pleasure the first emperor of Asiatic
extraction.
The letters of Macrinus had condescended to inform the senate
of the slight disturbance occasioned by an impostor in Syria, and
a decree immediately passed, declaring the rebel and his family
public enemies; with a promise of pardon, however, to such of his
deluded adherents as should merit it by an immediate return to
their duty. During the twenty days that elapsed from the
declaration of the victory of Antoninus, (for in so short an
interval was the fate of the Roman world decided,) the capital
and the provinces, more especially those of the East, were
distracted with hopes and fears, agitated with tumult, and
stained with a useless effusion of civil blood, since whosoever
of the rivals prevailed in Syria must reign over the empire. The
specious letters in which the young conqueror announced his
victory to the obedient senate were filled with professions of
virtue and moderation; the shining examples of Marcus and
Augustus, he should ever consider as the great rule of his
administration; and he affected to dwell with pride on the
striking resemblance of his own age and fortunes with those of
Augustus, who in the earliest youth had revenged, by a successful
war, the murder of his father. By adopting the style of Marcus
Aurelius Antoninus, son of Antoninus and grandson of Severus, he
tacitly asserted his hereditary claim to the empire; but, by
assuming the tribunitian and proconsular powers before they had
been conferred on him by a decree of the senate, he offended the
delicacy of Roman prejudice. This new and injudicious violation
of the constitution was probably dictated either by the ignorance
of his Syrian courtiers, or the fierce disdain of his military
followers.
As the attention of the new emperor was diverted by the most
trifling amusements, he wasted many months in his luxurious
progress from Syria to Italy, passed at Nicomedia his first
winter after his victory, and deferred till the ensuing summer
his triumphal entry into the capital. A faithful picture,
however, which preceded his arrival, and was placed by his
immediate order over the altar of Victory in the senate house,
conveyed to the Romans the just but unworthy resemblance of his
person and manners. He was drawn in his sacerdotal robes of silk
and gold, after the loose flowing fashion of the Medes and
Phnicians; his head was covered with a lofty tiara, his numerous
collars and bracelets were adorned with gems of an inestimable
value. His eyebrows were tinged with black, and his cheeks
painted with an artificial red and white. The grave senators
confessed with a sigh, that, after having long experienced the
stern tyranny of their own countrymen, Rome was at length humbled
beneath the effeminate luxury of Oriental despotism.
The Sun was worshipped at Emesa, under the name of Elagabalus,
and under the form of a black conical stone, which, as it was
universally believed, had fallen from heaven on that sacred
place. To this protecting deity, Antoninus, not without some
reason, ascribed his elevation to the throne. The display of
superstitious gratitude was the only serious business of his
reign. The triumph of the god of Emesa over all the religions of
the earth, was the great object of his zeal and vanity; and the
appellation of Elagabalus (for he presumed as pontiff and
favorite to adopt that sacred name) was dearer to him than all
the titles of Imperial greatness. In a solemn procession through
the streets of Rome, the way was strewed with gold dust; the
black stone, set in precious gems, was placed on a chariot drawn
by six milk-white horses richly caparisoned. The pious emperor
held the reins, and, supported by his ministers, moved slowly
backwards, that he might perpetually enjoy the felicity of the
divine presence. In a magnificent temple raised on the Palatine
Mount, the sacrifices of the god Elagabalus were celebrated with
every circumstance of cost and solemnity. The richest wines, the
most extraordinary victims, and the rarest aromatics, were
profusely consumed on his altar. Around the altar, a chorus of
Syrian damsels performed their lascivious dances to the sound of
barbarian music, whilst the gravest personages of the state and
army, clothed in long Phnician tunics, officiated in the meanest
functions, with affected zeal and secret indignation.
Chapter VI: Death Of Severus, Tyranny Of
Caracalla, Usurpation Of Marcinus. -- Part III.
To this temple, as to the common centre of religious worship,
the Imperial fanatic attempted to remove the Ancilia, the
Palladium, and all the sacred pledges of the faith of Numa. A
crowd of inferior deities attended in various stations the
majesty of the god of Emesa; but his court was still imperfect,
till a female of distinguished rank was admitted to his bed.
Pallas had been first chosen for his consort; but as it was
dreaded lest her warlike terrors might affright the soft delicacy
of a Syrian deity, the Moon, adorned by the Africans under the
name of Astarte, was deemed a more suitable companion for the
Sun. Her image, with the rich offerings of her temple as a
marriage portion, was transported with solemn pomp from Carthage
to Rome, and the day of these mystic nuptials was a general
festival in the capital and throughout the empire.
A rational voluptuary adheres with invariable respect to the
temperate dictates of nature, and improves the gratifications of
sense by social intercourse, endearing connections, and the soft
coloring of taste and the imagination. But Elagabalus, (I speak
of the emperor of that name,) corrupted by his youth, his
country, and his fortune, abandoned himself to the grossest
pleasures with ungoverned fury, and soon found disgust and
satiety in the midst of his enjoyments. The inflammatory powers
of art were summoned to his aid: the confused multitude of women,
of wines, and of dishes, and the studied variety of attitude and
sauces, served to revive his languid appetites. New terms and new
inventions in these sciences, the only ones cultivated and
patronized by the monarch, signalized his reign, and transmitted
his infamy to succeeding times. A capricious prodigality supplied
the want of taste and elegance; and whilst Elagabalus lavished
away the treasures of his people in the wildest extravagance, his
own voice and that of his flatterers applauded a spirit of
magnificence unknown to the tameness of his predecessors. To
confound the order of seasons and climates, to sport with the
passions and prejudices of his subjects, and to subvert every law
of nature and decency, were in the number of his most delicious
amusements. A long train of concubines, and a rapid succession of
wives, among whom was a vestal virgin, ravished by force from her
sacred asylum, were insufficient to satisfy the impotence of his
passions. The master of the Roman world affected to copy the
dress and manners of the female sex, preferred the distaff to the
sceptre, and dishonored the principal dignities of the empire by
distributing them among his numerous lovers; one of whom was
publicly invested with the title and authority of the emperor's,
or, as he more properly styled himself, of the empress's
husband.
It may seem probable, the vices and follies of Elagabalus have
been adorned by fancy, and blackened by prejudice. Yet, confining
ourselves to the public scenes displayed before the Roman people,
and attested by grave and contemporary historians, their
inexpressible infamy surpasses that of any other age or country.
The license of an eastern monarch is secluded from the eye of
curiosity by the inaccessible walls of his seraglio. The
sentiments of honor and gallantry have introduced a refinement of
pleasure, a regard for decency, and a respect for the public
opinion, into the modern courts of Europe; * but the corrupt and
opulent nobles of Rome gratified every vice that could be
collected from the mighty conflux of nations and manners. Secure
of impunity, careless of censure, they lived without restraint in
the patient and humble society of their slaves and parasites. The
emperor, in his turn, viewing every rank of his subjects with the
same contemptuous indifference, asserted without control his
sovereign privilege of lust and luxury.
The most worthless of mankind are not afraid to condemn in
others the same disorders which they allow in themselves; and can
readily discover some nice difference of age, character, or
station, to justify the partial distinction. The licentious
soldiers, who had raised to the throne the dissolute son of
Caracalla, blushed at their ignominious choice, and turned with
disgust from that monster, to contemplate with pleasure the
opening virtues of his cousin Alexander, the son of Mamæa.
The crafty Mæsa, sensible that her grandson Elagabalus must
inevitably destroy himself by his own vices, had provided another
and surer support of her family. Embracing a favorable moment of
fondness and devotion, she had persuaded the young emperor to
adopt Alexander, and to invest him with the title of Cæsar,
that his own divine occupations might be no longer interrupted by
the care of the earth. In the second rank that amiable prince
soon acquired the affections of the public, and excited the
tyrant's jealousy, who resolved to terminate the dangerous
competition, either by corrupting the manners, or by taking away
the life, of his rival. His arts proved unsuccessful; his vain
designs were constantly discovered by his own loquacious folly,
and disappointed by those virtuous and faithful servants whom the
prudence of Mamæa had placed about the person of her son.
In a hasty sally of passion, Elagabalus resolved to execute by
force what he had been unable to compass by fraud, and by a
despotic sentence degraded his cousin from the rank and honors of
Cæsar. The message was received in the senate with silence,
and in the camp with fury. The Prætorian guards swore to
protect Alexander, and to revenge the dishonored majesty of the
throne. The tears and promises of the trembling Elagabalus, who
only begged them to spare his life, and to leave him in the
possession of his beloved Hierocles, diverted their just
indignation; and they contented themselves with empowering their
præfects to watch over the safety of Alexander, and the
conduct of the emperor.
It was impossible that such a reconciliation should last, or
that even the mean soul of Elagabalus could hold an empire on
such humiliating terms of dependence. He soon attempted, by a
dangerous experiment, to try the temper of the soldiers. The
report of the death of Alexander, and the natural suspicion that
he had been murdered, inflamed their passions into fury, and the
tempest of the camp could only be appeased by the presence and
authority of the popular youth. Provoked at this new instance of
their affection for his cousin, and their contempt for his
person, the emperor ventured to punish some of the leaders of the
mutiny. His unseasonable severity proved instantly fatal to his
minions, his mother, and himself. Elagabalus was massacred by the
indignant Prætorians, his mutilated corpse dragged through
the streets of the city, and thrown into the Tiber. His memory
was branded with eternal infamy by the senate; the justice of
whose decree has been ratified by posterity.
[See Island In The Tiber: Elagabalus was thrown into the
Tiber]?
In the room of Elagabalus, his cousin Alexander was raised to
the throne by the Prætorian guards. His relation to the
family of Severus, whose name he assumed, was the same as that of
his predecessor; his virtue and his danger had already endeared
him to the Romans, and the eager liberality of the senate
conferred upon him, in one day, the various titles and powers of
the Imperial dignity. But as Alexander was a modest and dutiful
youth, of only seventeen years of age, the reins of government
were in the hands of two women, of his mother, Mamæa, and
of Mæsa, his grandmother. After the death of the latter,
who survived but a short time the elevation of Alexander,
Mamæa remained the sole regent of her son and of the
empire.
In every age and country, the wiser, or at least the stronger,
of the two sexes, has usurped the powers of the state, and
confined the other to the cares and pleasures of domestic life.
In hereditary monarchies, however, and especially in those of
modern Europe, the gallant spirit of chivalry, and the law of
succession, have accustomed us to allow a singular exception; and
a woman is often acknowledged the absolute sovereign of a great
kingdom, in which she would be deemed incapable of exercising the
smallest employment, civil or military. But as the Roman emperors
were still considered as the generals and magistrates of the
republic, their wives and mothers, although distinguished by the
name of Augusta were never associated to their personal honors;
and a female reign would have appeared an inexpiable prodigy in
the eyes of those primitive Romans, who married without love, or
loved without delicacy and respect. The haughty Agripina aspired,
indeed, to share the honors of the empire which she had conferred
on her son; but her mad ambition, detested by every citizen who
felt for the dignity of Rome, was disappointed by the artful
firmness of Seneca and Burrhus. The good sense, or the
indifference, of succeeding princes, restrained them from
offending the prejudices of their subjects; and it was reserved
for the profligate Elagabalus to discharge the acts of the senate
with the name of his mother Soæmias, who was placed by the
side of the consuls, and subscribed, as a regular member, the
decrees of the legislative assembly. Her more prudent sister,
Mamæa, declined the useless and odious prerogative, and a
solemn law was enacted, excluding women forever from the senate,
and devoting to the infernal gods the head of the wretch by whom
this sanction should be violated. The substance, not the
pageantry, of power. was the object of Mamæa's manly
ambition. She maintained an absolute and lasting empire over the
mind of her son, and in his affection the mother could not brook
a rival. Alexander, with her consent, married the daughter of a
patrician; but his respect for his father-in-law, and love for
the empress, were inconsistent with the tenderness of interest of
Mamæa. The patrician was executed on the ready accusation
of treason, and the wife of Alexander driven with ignominy from
the palace, and banished into Africa.
Notwithstanding this act of jealous cruelty, as well as some
instances of avarice, with which Mamæa is charged, the
general tenor of her administration was equally for the benefit
of her son and of the empire. With the approbation of the senate,
she chose sixteen of the wisest and most virtuous senators as a
perpetual council of state, before whom every public business of
moment was debated and determined. The celebrated Ulpian, equally
distinguished by his knowledge of, and his respect for, the laws
of Rome, was at their head; and the prudent firmness of this
aristocracy restored order and authority to the government. As
soon as they had purged the city from foreign superstition and
luxury, the remains of the capricious tyranny of Elagabalus, they
applied themselves to remove his worthless creatures from every
department of the public administration, and to supply their
places with men of virtue and ability. Learning, and the love of
justice, became the only recommendations for civil offices;
valor, and the love of discipline, the only qualifications for
military employments.
But the most important care of Mamæa and her wise
counsellors, was to form the character of the young emperor, on
whose personal qualities the happiness or misery of the Roman
world must ultimately depend. The fortunate soil assisted, and
even prevented, the hand of cultivation. An excellent
understanding soon convinced Alexander of the advantages of
virtue, the pleasure of knowledge, and the necessity of labor. A
natural mildness and moderation of temper preserved him from the
assaults of passion, and the allurements of vice. His unalterable
regard for his mother, and his esteem for the wise Ulpian,
guarded his unexperienced youth from the poison of flattery.
*
The simple journal of his ordinary occupations exhibits a
pleasing picture of an accomplished emperor, and, with some
allowance for the difference of manners, might well deserve the
imitation of modern princes. Alexander rose early: the first
moments of the day were consecrated to private devotion, and his
domestic chapel was filled with the images of those heroes, who,
by improving or reforming human life, had deserved the grateful
reverence of posterity. But as he deemed the service of mankind
the most acceptable worship of the gods, the greatest part of his
morning hours was employed in his council, where he discussed
public affairs, and determined private causes, with a patience
and discretion above his years. The dryness of business was
relieved by the charms of literature; and a portion of time was
always set apart for his favorite studies of poetry, history, and
philosophy. The works of Virgil and Horace, the republics of
Plato and Cicero, formed his taste, enlarged his understanding,
and gave him the noblest ideas of man and government. The
exercises of the body succeeded to those of the mind; and
Alexander, who was tall, active, and robust, surpassed most of
his equals in the gymnastic arts. Refreshed by the use of the
bath and a slight dinner, he resumed, with new vigor, the
business of the day; and, till the hour of supper, the principal
meal of the Romans, he was attended by his secretaries, with whom
he read and answered the multitude of letters, memorials, and
petitions, that must have been addressed to the master of the
greatest part of the world. His table was served with the most
frugal simplicity, and whenever he was at liberty to consult his
own inclination, the company consisted of a few select friends,
men of learning and virtue, amongst whom Ulpian was constantly
invited. Their conversation was familiar and instructive; and the
pauses were occasionally enlivened by the recital of some
pleasing composition, which supplied the place of the dancers,
comedians, and even gladiators, so frequently summoned to the
tables of the rich and luxurious Romans. The dress of Alexander
was plain and modest, his demeanor courteous and affable: at the
proper hours his palace was open to all his subjects, but the
voice of a crier was heard, as in the Eleusinian mysteries,
pronouncing the same salutary admonition: "Let none enter these
holy walls, unless he is conscious of a pure and innocent
mind."
Such a uniform tenor of life, which left not a moment for vice
or folly, is a better proof of the wisdom and justice of
Alexander's government, than all the trifling details preserved
in the compilation of Lampridius. Since the accession of
Commodus, the Roman world had experienced, during the term of
forty years, the successive and various vices of four tyrants.
From the death of Elagabalus, it enjoyed an auspicious calm of
thirteen years. * The provinces, relieved from the oppressive
taxes invented by Caracalla and his pretended son, flourished in
peace and prosperity, under the administration of magistrates,
who were convinced by experience that to deserve the love of the
subjects, was their best and only method of obtaining the favor
of their sovereign. While some gentle restraints were imposed on
the innocent luxury of the Roman people, the price of provisions
and the interest of money, were reduced by the paternal care of
Alexander, whose prudent liberality, without distressing the
industrious, supplied the wants and amusements of the populace.
The dignity, the freedom, the authority of the senate was
restored; and every virtuous senator might approach the person of
the emperor without a fear and without a blush.
The name of Antoninus, ennobled by the virtues of Pius and
Marcus, had been communicated by adoption to the dissolute Verus,
and by descent to the cruel Commodus. It became the honorable
appellation of the sons of Severus, was bestowed on young
Diadumenianus, and at length prostituted to the infamy of the
high priest of Emesa. Alexander, though pressed by the studied,
and, perhaps, sincere importunity of the senate, nobly refused
the borrowed lustre of a name; whilst in his whole conduct he
labored to restore the glories and felicity of the age of the
genuine Antonines.
In the civil administration of Alexander, wisdom was enforced
by power, and the people, sensible of the public felicity, repaid
their benefactor with their love and gratitude. There still
remained a greater, a more necessary, but a more difficult
enterprise; the reformation of the military order, whose interest
and temper, confirmed by long impunity, rendered them impatient
of the restraints of discipline, and careless of the blessings of
public tranquillity. In the execution of his design, the emperor
affected to display his love, and to conceal his fear of the
army. The most rigid economy in every other branch of the
administration supplied a fund of gold and silver for the
ordinary pay and the extraordinary rewards of the troops. In
their marches he relaxed the severe obligation of carrying
seventeen days' provision on their shoulders. Ample magazines
were formed along the public roads, and as soon as they entered
the enemy's country, a numerous train of mules and camels waited
on their haughty laziness. As Alexander despaired of correcting
the luxury of his soldiers, he attempted, at least, to direct it
to objects of martial pomp and ornament, fine horses, splendid
armor, and shields enriched with silver and gold. He shared
whatever fatigues he was obliged to impose, visited, in person,
the sick and wounded, preserved an exact register of their
services and his own gratitude, and expressed on every occasion,
the warmest regard for a body of men, whose welfare, as he
affected to declare, was so closely connected with that of the
state. By the most gentle arts he labored to inspire the fierce
multitude with a sense of duty, and to restore at least a faint
image of that discipline to which the Romans owed their empire
over so many other nations, as warlike and more powerful than
themselves. But his prudence was vain, his courage fatal, and the
attempt towards a reformation served only to inflame the ills it
was meant to cure.
The Prætorian guards were attached to the youth of
Alexander. They loved him as a tender pupil, whom they had saved
from a tyrant's fury, and placed on the Imperial throne. That
amiable prince was sensible of the obligation; but as his
gratitude was restrained within the limits of reason and justice,
they soon were more dissatisfied with the virtues of Alexander,
than they had ever been with the vices of Elagabalus. Their
præfect, the wise Ulpian, was the friend of the laws and of
the people; he was considered as the enemy of the soldiers, and
to his pernicious counsels every scheme of reformation was
imputed. Some trifling accident blew up their discontent into a
furious mutiny; and the civil war raged, during three days, in
Rome, whilst the life of that excellent minister was defended by
the grateful people. Terrified, at length, by the sight of some
houses in flames, and by the threats of a general conflagration,
the people yielded with a sigh, and left the virtuous but
unfortunate Ulpian to his fate. He was pursued into the Imperial
palace, and massacred at the feet of his master, who vainly
strove to cover him with the purple, and to obtain his pardon
from the inexorable soldiers. * Such was the deplorable weakness
of government, that the emperor was unable to revenge his
murdered friend and his insulted dignity, without stooping to the
arts of patience and dissimulation. Epagathus, the principal
leader of the mutiny, was removed from Rome, by the honorable
employment of præfect of Egypt: from that high rank he was
gently degraded to the government of Crete; and when at length,
his popularity among the guards was effaced by time and absence,
Alexander ventured to inflict the tardy but deserved punishment
of his crimes. Under the reign of a just and virtuous prince, the
tyranny of the army threatened with instant death his most
faithful ministers, who were suspected of an intention to correct
their intolerable disorders. The historian Dion Cassius had
commanded the Pannonian legions with the spirit of ancient
discipline. Their brethren of Rome, embracing the common cause of
military license, demanded the head of the reformer. Alexander,
however, instead of yielding to their seditious clamors, showed a
just sense of his merit and services, by appointing him his
colleague in the consulship, and defraying from his own treasury
the expense of that vain dignity: but as was justly apprehended,
that if the soldiers beheld him with the ensigns of his office,
they would revenge the insult in his blood, the nominal first
magistrate of the state retired, by the emperor's advice, from
the city, and spent the greatest part of his consulship at his
villas in Campania.
Chapter VI: Death Of Severus, Tyranny Of
Caracalla, Usurpation Of Marcinus. -- Part IV.
The lenity of the emperor confirmed the insolence of the
troops; the legions imitated the example of the guards, and
defended their prerogative of licentiousness with the same
furious obstinacy. The administration of Alexander was an
unavailing struggle against the corruption of his age. In
llyricum, in Mauritania, in Armenia, in Mesopotamia, in Germany,
fresh mutinies perpetually broke out; his officers were murdered,
his authority was insulted, and his life at last sacrificed to
the fierce discontents of the army. One particular fact well
deserves to be recorded, as it illustrates the manners of the
troops, and exhibits a singular instance of their return to a
sense of duty and obedience. Whilst the emperor lay at Antioch,
in his Persian expedition, the particulars of which we shall
hereafter relate, the punishment of some soldiers, who had been
discovered in the baths of women, excited a sedition in the
legion to which they belonged. Alexander ascended his tribunal,
and with a modest firmness represented to the armed multitude the
absolute necessity, as well as his inflexible resolution, of
correcting the vices introduced by his impure predecessor, and of
maintaining the discipline, which could not be relaxed without
the ruin of the Roman name and empire. Their clamors interrupted
his mild expostulation. "Reserve your shout," said the undaunted
emperor, "till you take the field against the Persians, the
Germans, and the Sarmatians. Be silent in the presence of your
sovereign and benefactor, who bestows upon you the corn, the
clothing, and the money of the provinces. Be silent, or I shall
no longer style you solders, but citizens, if those
indeed who disclaim the laws of Rome deserve to be ranked among
the meanest of the people." His menaces inflamed the fury of the
legion, and their brandished arms already threatened his person.
"Your courage," resumed the intrepid Alexander, "would be more
nobly displayed in the field of battle; me you may
destroy, you cannot intimidate; and the severe justice of the
republic would punish your crime and revenge my death." The
legion still persisted in clamorous sedition, when the emperor
pronounced, with a cud voice, the decisive sentence,
"Citizens! lay down your arms, and depart in peace to
your respective habitations." The tempest was instantly appeased:
the soldiers, filled with grief and shame, silently confessed the
justice of their punishment, and the power of discipline, yielded
up their arms and military ensigns, and retired in confusion, not
to their camp, but to the several inns of the city. Alexander
enjoyed, during thirty days, the edifying spectacle of their
repentance; nor did he restore them to their former rank in the
army, till he had punished with death those tribunes whose
connivance had occasioned the mutiny. The grateful legion served
the emperor whilst living, and revenged him when dead.
The resolutions of the multitude generally depend on a moment;
and the caprice of passion might equally determine the seditious
legion to lay down their arms at the emperor's feet, or to plunge
them into his breast. Perhaps, if this singular transaction had
been investigated by the penetration of a philosopher, we should
discover the secret causes which on that occasion authorized the
boldness of the prince, and commanded the obedience of the
troops; and perhaps, if it had been related by a judicious
historian, we should find this action, worthy of Cæsar
himself, reduced nearer to the level of probability and the
common standard of the character of Alexander Severus. The
abilities of that amiable prince seem to have been inadequate to
the difficulties of his situation, the firmness of his conduct
inferior to the purity of his intentions. His virtues, as well as
the vices of Elagabalus, contracted a tincture of weakness and
effeminacy from the soft climate of Syria, of which he was a
native; though he blushed at his foreign origin, and listened
with a vain complacency to the flattering genealogists, who
derived his race from the ancient stock of Roman nobility. The
pride and avarice of his mother cast a shade on the glories of
his reign; an by exacting from his riper years the same dutiful
obedience which she had justly claimed from his unexperienced
youth, Mamæa exposed to public ridicule both her son's
character and her own. The fatigues of the Persian war irritated
the military discontent; the unsuccessful event * degraded the
reputation of the emperor as a general, and even as a soldier.
Every cause prepared, and every circumstance hastened, a
revolution, which distracted the Roman empire with a long series
of intestine calamities.
The dissolute tyranny of Commodus, the civil wars occasioned
by his death, and the new maxims of policy introduced by the
house of Severus, had all contributed to increase the dangerous
power of the army, and to obliterate the faint image of laws and
liberty that was still impressed on the minds of the Romans. The
internal change, which undermined the foundations of the empire,
we have endeavored to explain with some degree of order and
perspicuity. The personal characters of the emperors, their
victories, laws, follies, and fortunes, can interest us no
farther than as they are connected with the general history of
the Decline and Fall of the monarchy. Our constant attention to
that great object will not suffer us to overlook a most important
edict of Antoninus Caracalla, which communicated to all the free
inhabitants of the empire the name and privileges of Roman
citizens. His unbounded liberality flowed not, however, from the
sentiments of a generous mind; it was the sordid result of
avarice, and will naturally be illustrated by some observations
on the finances of that state, from the victorious ages of the
commonwealth to the reign of Alexander Severus.
The siege of Veii in Tuscany, the first considerable
enterprise of the Romans, was protracted to the tenth year, much
less by the strength of the place than by the unskillfulness of
the besiegers. The unaccustomed hardships of so many winter
campaigns, at the distance of near twenty miles from home,
required more than common encouragements; and the senate wisely
prevented the clamors of the people, by the institution of a
regular pay for the soldiers, which was levied by a general
tribute, assessed according to an equitable proportion on the
property of the citizens. During more than two hundred years
after the conquest of Veii, the victories of the republic added
less to the wealth than to the power of Rome. The states of Italy
paid their tribute in military service only, and the vast force,
both by sea and land, which was exerted in the Punic wars, was
maintained at the expense of the Romans themselves. That
high-spirited people (such is often the generous enthusiasm of
freedom) cheerfully submitted to the most excessive but voluntary
burdens, in the just confidence that they should speedily enjoy
the rich harvest of their labors. Their expectations were not
disappointed. In the course of a few years, the riches of
Syracuse, of Carthage, of Macedonia, and of Asia, were brought in
triumph to Rome. The treasures of Perseus alone amounted to near
two millions sterling, and the Roman people, the sovereign of so
many nations, was forever delivered from the weight of taxes. The
increasing revenue of the provinces was found sufficient to
defray the ordinary establishment of war and government, and the
superfluous mass of gold and silver was deposited in the temple
of Saturn, and reserved for any unforeseen emergency of the
state.
History has never, perhaps, suffered a greater or more
irreparable injury than in the loss of the curious register *
bequeathed by Augustus to the senate, in which that experienced
prince so accurately balanced the revenues and expenses of the
Roman empire. Deprived of this clear and comprehensive estimate,
we are reduced to collect a few imperfect hints from such of the
ancients as have accidentally turned aside from the splendid to
the more useful parts of history. We are informed that, by the
conquests of Pompey, the tributes of Asia were raised from fifty
to one hundred and thirty-five millions of drachms; or about four
millions and a half sterling. Under the last and most indolent of
the Ptolemies, the revenue of Egypt is said to have amounted to
twelve thousand five hundred talents; a sum equivalent to more
than two millions and a half of our money, but which was
afterwards considerably improved by the more exact economy of the
Romans, and the increase of the trade of Æthiopia and
India. Gaul was enriched by rapine, as Egypt was by commerce, and
the tributes of those two great provinces have been compared as
nearly equal to each other in value. The ten thousand Euboic or
Phnician talents, about four millions sterling, which vanquished
Carthage was condemned to pay within the term of fifty years,
were a slight acknowledgment of the superiority of Rome, and
cannot bear the least proportion with the taxes afterwards raised
both on the lands and on the persons of the inhabitants, when the
fertile coast of Africa was reduced into a province.
Spain, by a very singular fatality, was the Peru and Mexico of
the old world. The discovery of the rich western continent by the
Phnicians, and the oppression of the simple natives, who were
compelled to labor in their own mines for the benefit of
strangers, form an exact type of the more recent history of
Spanish America. The Phnicians were acquainted only with the
sea-coast of Spain; avarice, as well as ambition, carried the
arms of Rome and Carthage into the heart of the country, and
almost every part of the soil was found pregnant with copper,
silver, and gold. * Mention is made of a mine near Carthagena
which yielded every day twenty-five thousand drachmns of silver,
or about three hundred thousand pounds a year. Twenty thousand
pound weight of gold was annually received from the provinces of
Asturia, Gallicia, and Lusitania.
We want both leisure and materials to pursue this curious
inquiry through the many potent states that were annihilated in
the Roman empire. Some notion, however, may be formed of the
revenue of the provinces where considerable wealth had been
deposited by nature, or collected by man, if we observe the
severe attention that was directed to the abodes of solitude and
sterility. Augustus once received a petition from the inhabitants
of Gyarus, humbly praying that they might be relieved from one
third of their excessive impositions. Their whole tax amounted
indeed to no more than one hundred and fifty drachms, or about
five pounds: but Gyarus was a little island, or rather a rock, of
the Ægean Sea, destitute of fresh water and every necessary
of life, and inhabited only by a few wretched fishermen.
From the faint glimmerings of such doubtful and scattered
lights, we should be inclined to believe, 1st, That (with every
fair allowance for the differences of times and circumstances)
the general income of the Roman provinces could seldom amount to
less than fifteen or twenty millions of our money; and, 2dly,
That so ample a revenue must have been fully adequate to all the
expenses of the moderate government instituted by Augustus, whose
court was the modest family of a private senator, and whose
military establishment was calculated for the defence of the
frontiers, without any aspiring views of conquest, or any serious
apprehension of a foreign invasion.
Notwithstanding the seeming probability of both these
conclusions, the latter of them at least is positively disowned
by the language and conduct of Augustus. It is not easy to
determine whether, on this occasion, he acted as the common
father of the Roman world, or as the oppressor of liberty;
whether he wished to relieve the provinces, or to impoverish the
senate and the equestrian order. But no sooner had he assumed the
reins of government, than he frequently intimated the
insufficiency of the tributes, and the necessity of throwing an
equitable proportion of the public burden upon Rome and Italy. In
the prosecution of this unpopular design, he advanced, however,
by cautious and well-weighed steps. The introduction of customs
was followed by the establishment of an excise, and the scheme of
taxation was completed by an artful assessment on the real and
personal property of the Roman citizens, who had been exempted
from any kind of contribution above a century and a half.
I. In a great empire like that of Rome, a natural balance of
money must have gradually established itself. It has been already
observed, that as the wealth of the provinces was attracted to
the capital by the strong hand of conquest and power, so a
considerable part of it was restored to the industrious provinces
by the gentle influence of commerce and arts. In the reign of
Augustus and his successors, duties were imposed on every kind of
merchandise, which through a thousand channels flowed to the
great centre of opulence and luxury; and in whatsoever manner the
law was expressed, it was the Roman purchaser, and not the
provincial merchant, who paid the tax. The rate of the customs
varied from the eighth to the fortieth part of the value of the
commodity; and we have a right to suppose that the variation was
directed by the unalterable maxims of policy; that a higher duty
was fixed on the articles of luxury than on those of necessity,
and that the productions raised or manufactured by the labor of
the subjects of the empire were treated with more indulgence than
was shown to the pernicious, or at least the unpopular commerce
of Arabia and India. There is still extant a long but imperfect
catalogue of eastern commodities, which about the time of
Alexander Severus were subject to the payment of duties;
cinnamon, myrrh, pepper, ginger, and the whole tribe of aromatics
a great variety of precious stones, among which the diamond was
the most remarkable for its price, and the emerald for its
beauty; Parthian and Babylonian leather, cottons, silks, both raw
and manufactured, ebony ivory, and eunuchs. We may observe that
the use and value of those effeminate slaves gradually rose with
the decline of the empire.
II. The excise, introduced by Augustus after the civil wars,
was extremely moderate, but it was general. It seldom exceeded
one per cent.; but it comprehended whatever was sold in the
markets or by public auction, from the most considerable
purchases of lands and houses, to those minute objects which can
only derive a value from their infinite multitude and daily
consumption. Such a tax, as it affects the body of the people,
has ever been the occasion of clamor and discontent. An emperor
well acquainted with the wants and resources of the state was
obliged to declare, by a public edict, that the support of the
army depended in a great measure on the produce of the excise.
1
III. When Augustus resolved to establish a permanent military
force for the defence of his government against foreign and
domestic enemies, he instituted a peculiar treasury for the pay
of the soldiers, the rewards of the veterans, and the
extra-ordinary expenses of war. The ample revenue of the excise,
though peculiarly appropriated to those uses, was found
inadequate. To supply the deficiency, the emperor suggested a new
tax of five per cent. on all legacies and inheritances. But the
nobles of Rome were more tenacious of property than of freedom.
Their indignant murmurs were received by Augustus with his usual
temper. He candidly referred the whole business to the senate,
and exhorted them to provide for the public service by some other
expedient of a less odious nature. They were divided and
perplexed. He insinuated to them, that their obstinacy would
oblige him to propose a general land tax and capitation. They
acquiesced in silence. . The new imposition on legacies and
inheritances was, however, mitigated by some restrictions. It did
not take place unless the object was of a certain value, most
probably of fifty or a hundred pieces of gold; nor could it be
exacted from the nearest of kin on the father's side. When the
rights of nature and poverty were thus secured, it seemed
reasonable, that a stranger, or a distant relation, who acquired
an unexpected accession of fortune, should cheerfully resign a
twentieth part of it, for the benefit of the state.
Such a tax, plentiful as it must prove in every wealthy
community, was most happily suited to the situation of the
Romans, who could frame their arbitrary wills, according to the
dictates of reason or caprice, without any restraint from the
modern fetters of entails and settlements. From various causes,
the partiality of paternal affection often lost its influence
over the stern patriots of the commonwealth, and the dissolute
nobles of the empire; and if the father bequeathed to his son the
fourth part of his estate, he removed all ground of legal
complaint. But a rich childish old man was a domestic tyrant, and
his power increased with his years and infirmities. A servile
crowd, in which he frequently reckoned prætors and consuls,
courted his smiles, pampered his avarice, applauded his follies,
served his passions, and waited with impatience for his death.
The arts of attendance and flattery were formed into a most
lucrative science; those who professed it acquired a peculiar
appellation; and the whole city, according to the lively
descriptions of satire, was divided between two parties, the
hunters and their game. Yet, while so many unjust and extravagant
wills were every day dictated by cunning and subscribed by folly,
a few were the result of rational esteem and virtuous gratitude.
Cicero, who had so often defended the lives and fortunes of his
fellow-citizens, was rewarded with legacies to the amount of a
hundred and seventy thousand pounds; nor do the friends of the
younger Pliny seem to have been less generous to that amiable
orator. Whatever was the motive of the testator, the treasury
claimed, without distinction, the twentieth part of his estate:
and in the course of two or three generations, the whole property
of the subject must have gradually passed through the coffers of
the state.
In the first and golden years of the reign of Nero, that
prince, from a desire of popularity, and perhaps from a blind
impulse of benevolence, conceived a wish of abolishing the
oppression of the customs and excise. The wisest senators
applauded his magnanimity: but they diverted him from the
execution of a design which would have dissolved the strength and
resources of the republic. Had it indeed been possible to realize
this dream of fancy, such princes as Trajan and the Antonines
would surely have embraced with ardor the glorious opportunity of
conferring so signal an obligation on mankind. Satisfied,
however, with alleviating the public burden, they attempted not
to remove it. The mildness and precision of their laws
ascertained the rule and measure of taxation, and protected the
subject of every rank against arbitrary interpretations,
antiquated claims, and the insolent vexation of the farmers of
the revenue. For it is somewhat singular, that, in every age, the
best and wisest of the Roman governors persevered in this
pernicious method of collecting the principal branches at least
of the excise and customs.
The sentiments, and, indeed, the situation, of Caracalla were
very different from those of the Antonines. Inattentive, or
rather averse, to the welfare of his people, he found himself
under the necessity of gratifying the insatiate avarice which he
had excited in the army. Of the several impositions introduced by
Augustus, the twentieth on inheritances and legacies was the most
fruitful, as well as the most comprehensive. As its influence was
not confined to Rome or Italy, the produce continually increased
with the gradual extension of the Roman City. The new citizens,
though charged, on equal terms, with the payment of new taxes,
which had not affected them as subjects, derived an ample
compensation from the rank they obtained, the privileges they
acquired, and the fair prospect of honors and fortune that was
thrown open to their ambition. But the favor which implied a
distinction was lost in the prodigality of Caracalla, and the
reluctant provincials were compelled to assume the vain title,
and the real obligations, of Roman citizens. * Nor was the
rapacious son of Severus contented with such a measure of
taxation as had appeared sufficient to his moderate predecessors.
Instead of a twentieth, he exacted a tenth of all legacies and
inheritances; and during his reign (for the ancient proportion
was restored after his death) he crushed alike every part of the
empire under the weight of his iron sceptre.
When all the provincials became liable to the peculiar
impositions of Roman citizens, they seemed to acquire a legal
exemption from the tributes which they had paid in their former
condition of subjects. Such were not the maxims of government
adopted by Caracalla and his pretended son. The old as well as
the new taxes were, at the same time, levied in the provinces. It
was reserved for the virtue of Alexander to relieve them in a
great measure from this intolerable grievance, by reducing the
tributes to a thirteenth part of the sum exacted at the time of
his accession. It is impossible to conjecture the motive that
engaged him to spare so trifling a remnant of the public evil;
but the noxious weed, which had not been totally eradicated,
again sprang up with the most luxuriant growth, and in the
succeeding age darkened the Roman world with its deadly shade. In
the course of this history, we shall be too often summoned to
explain the land tax, the capitation, and the heavy contributions
of corn, wine, oil, and meat, which were exacted from the
provinces for the use of the court, the army, and the
capital.
As long as Rome and Italy were respected as the centre of
government, a national spirit was preserved by the ancient, and
insensibly imbibed by the adopted, citizens. The principal
commands of the army were filled by men who had received a
liberal education, were well instructed in the advantages of laws
and letters, and who had risen, by equal steps, through the
regular succession of civil and military honors. To their
influence and example we may partly ascribe the modest obedience
of the legions during the two first centuries of the Imperial
history.
But when the last enclosure of the Roman constitution was
trampled down by Caracalla, the separation of professions
gradually succeeded to the distinction of ranks. The more
polished citizens of the internal provinces were alone qualified
to act as lawyers and magistrates. The rougher trade of arms was
abandoned to the peasants and barbarians of the frontiers, who
knew no country but their camp, no science but that of war no
civil laws, and scarcely those of military discipline. With
bloody hands, savage manners, and desperate resolutions, they
sometimes guarded, but much oftener subverted, the throne of the
emperors.
Chapter VII: Tyranny Of Maximin, Rebellion, Civil Wars, Death Of Maximin.
Part I.
The Elevation And Tyranny Of Maximin. -- Rebellion In Africa
And Italy, Under The Authority Of The Senate. -- Civil Wars And
Seditions. -- Violent Deaths Of Maximin And His Son, Of Maximus
And Balbinus, And Of The Three Gordians. -- Usurpation And
Secular Games Of Philip.
Of the various forms of government which have prevailed in the
world, an hereditary monarchy seems to present the fairest scope
for ridicule. Is it possible to relate without an indignant
smile, that, on the father's decease, the property of a nation,
like that of a drove of oxen, descends to his infant son, as yet
unknown to mankind and to himself; and that the bravest warriors
and the wisest statesmen, relinquishing their natural right to
empire, approach the royal cradle with bended knees and
protestations of inviolable fidelity? Satire and declamation may
paint these obvious topics in the most dazzling colors, but our
more serious thoughts will respect a useful prejudice, that
establishes a rule of succession, independent of the passions of
mankind; and we shall cheerfully acquiesce in any expedient which
deprives the multitude of the dangerous, and indeed the ideal,
power of giving themselves a master.
In the cool shade of retirement, we may easily devise
imaginary forms of government, in which the sceptre shall be
constantly bestowed on the most worthy, by the free and incorrupt
suffrage of the whole community. Experience overturns these airy
fabrics, and teaches us, that in a large society, the election of
a monarch can never devolve to the wisest, or to the most
numerous part of the people. The army is the only order of men
sufficiently united to concur in the same sentiments, and
powerful enough to impose them on the rest of their
fellow-citizens; but the temper of soldiers, habituated at once
to violence and to slavery, renders them very unfit guardians of
a legal, or even a civil constitution. Justice, humanity, or
political wisdom, are qualities they are too little acquainted
with in themselves, to appreciate them in others. Valor will
acquire their esteem, and liberality will purchase their
suffrage; but the first of these merits is often lodged in the
most savage breasts; the latter can only exert itself at the
expense of the public; and both may be turned against the
possessor of the throne, by the ambition of a daring rival.
The superior prerogative of birth, when it has obtained the
sanction of time and popular opinion, is the plainest and least
invidious of all distinctions among mankind. The acknowledged
right extinguishes the hopes of faction, and the conscious
security disarms the cruelty of the monarch. To the firm
establishment of this idea we owe the peaceful succession and
mild administration of European monarchies. To the defect of it
we must attribute the frequent civil wars, through which an
Asiatic despot is obliged to cut his way to the throne of his
fathers. Yet, even in the East, the sphere of contention is
usually limited to the princes of the reigning house, and as soon
as the more fortunate competitor has removed his brethren by the
sword and the bowstring, he no longer entertains any jealousy of
his meaner subjects. But the Roman empire, after the authority of
the senate had sunk into contempt, was a vast scene of confusion.
The royal, and even noble, families of the provinces had long
since been led in triumph before the car of the haughty
republicans. The ancient families of Rome had successively fallen
beneath the tyranny of the Cæsars; and whilst those princes
were shackled by the forms of a commonwealth, and disappointed by
the repeated failure of their posterity, it was impossible that
any idea of hereditary succession should have taken root in the
minds of their subjects. The right to the throne, which none
could claim from birth, every one assumed from merit. The daring
hopes of ambition were set loose from the salutary restraints of
law and prejudice; and the meanest of mankind might, without
folly, entertain a hope of being raised by valor and fortune to a
rank in the army, in which a single crime would enable him to
wrest the sceptre of the world from his feeble and unpopular
master. After the murder of Alexander Severus, and the elevation
of Maximin, no emperor could think himself safe upon the throne,
and every barbarian peasant of the frontier might aspire to that
august, but dangerous station.
About thirty-two years before that event, the emperor Severus,
returning from an eastern expedition, halted in Thrace, to
celebrate, with military games, the birthday of his younger son,
Geta. The country flocked in crowds to behold their sovereign,
and a young barbarian of gigantic stature earnestly solicited, in
his rude dialect, that he might be allowed to contend for the
prize of wrestling. As the pride of discipline would have been
disgraced in the overthrow of a Roman soldier by a Thracian
peasant, he was matched with the stoutest followers of the camp,
sixteen of whom he successively laid on the ground. His victory
was rewarded by some trifling gifts, and a permission to enlist
in the troops. The next day, the happy barbarian was
distinguished above a crowd of recruits, dancing and exulting
after the fashion of his country. As soon as he perceived that he
had attracted the emperor's notice, he instantly ran up to his
horse, and followed him on foot, without the least appearance of
fatigue, in a long and rapid career. "Thracian," said Severus
with astonishment, "art thou disposed to wrestle after thy race?"
"Most willingly, sir," replied the unwearied youth; and, almost
in a breath, overthrew seven of the strongest soldiers in the
army. A gold collar was the prize of his matchless vigor and
activity, and he was immediately appointed to serve in the
horseguards who always attended on the person of the
sovereign.
Maximin, for that was his name, though born on the territories
of the empire, descended from a mixed race of barbarians. His
father was a Goth, and his mother of the nation of the Alani. He
displayed on every occasion a valor equal to his strength; and
his native fierceness was soon tempered or disguised by the
knowledge of the world. Under the reign of Severus and his son,
he obtained the rank of centurion, with the favor and esteem of
both those princes, the former of whom was an excellent judge of
merit. Gratitude forbade Maximin to serve under the assassin of
Caracalla. Honor taught him to decline the effeminate insults of
Elagabalus. On the accession of Alexander he returned to court,
and was placed by that prince in a station useful to the service,
and honorable to himself. The fourth legion, to which he was
appointed tribune, soon became, under his care, the best
disciplined of the whole army. With the general applause of the
soldiers, who bestowed on their favorite hero the names of Ajax
and Hercules, he was successively promoted to the first military
command; and had not he still retained too much of his savage
origin, the emperor might perhaps have given his own sister in
marriage to the son of Maximin.
Instead of securing his fidelity, these favors served only to
inflame the ambition of the Thracian peasant, who deemed his
fortune inadequate to his merit, as long as he was constrained to
acknowledge a superior. Though a stranger to real wisdom, he was
not devoid of a selfish cunning, which showed him that the
emperor had lost the affection of the army, and taught him to
improve their discontent to his own advantage. It is easy for
faction and calumny to shed their poison on the administration of
the best of princes, and to accuse even their virtues by artfully
confounding them with those vices to which they bear the nearest
affinity. The troops listened with pleasure to the emissaries of
Maximin. They blushed at their own ignominious patience, which,
during thirteen years, had supported the vexatious discipline
imposed by an effeminate Syrian, the timid slave of his mother
and of the senate. It was time, they cried, to cast away that
useless phantom of the civil power, and to elect for their prince
and general a real soldier, educated in camps, exercised in war,
who would assert the glory, and distribute among his companions
the treasures, of the empire. A great army was at that time
assembled on the banks of the Rhine, under the command of the
emperor himself, who, almost immediately after his return from
the Persian war, had been obliged to march against the barbarians
of Germany. The important care of training and reviewing the new
levies was intrusted to Maximin. One day, as he entered the field
of exercise, the troops either from a sudden impulse, or a formed
conspiracy, saluted him emperor, silenced by their loud
acclamations his obstinate refusal, and hastened to consummate
their rebellion by the murder of Alexander Severus.
The circumstances of his death are variously related. The
writers, who suppose that he died in ignorance of the ingratitude
and ambition of Maximin, affirm, that, after taking a frugal
repast in the sight of the army, he retired to sleep, and that,
about the seventh hour of the day, a part of his own guards broke
into the imperial tent, and, with many wounds, assassinated their
virtuous and unsuspecting prince. If we credit another, and
indeed a more probable account, Maximin was invested with the
purple by a numerous detachment, at the distance of several miles
from the head-quarters; and he trusted for success rather to the
secret wishes than to the public declarations of the great army.
Alexander had sufficient time to awaken a faint sense of loyalty
among the troops; but their reluctant professions of fidelity
quickly vanished on the appearance of Maximin, who declared
himself the friend and advocate of the military order, and was
unanimously acknowledged emperor of the Romans by the applauding
legions. The son of Mamæa, betrayed and deserted, withdrew
into his tent, desirous at least to conceal his approaching fate
from the insults of the multitude. He was soon followed by a
tribune and some centurions, the ministers of death; but instead
of receiving with manly resolution the inevitable stroke, his
unavailing cries and entreaties disgraced the last moments of his
life, and converted into contempt some portion of the just pity
which his innocence and misfortunes must inspire. His mother,
Mamæa, whose pride and avarice he loudly accused as the
cause of his ruin, perished with her son. The most faithful of
his friends were sacrificed to the first fury of the soldiers.
Others were reserved for the more deliberate cruelty of the
usurper; and those who experienced the mildest treatment, were
stripped of their employments, and ignominiously driven from the
court and army.
The former tyrants, Caligula and Nero, Commodus, and
Caracalla, were all dissolute and unexperienced youths, educated
in the purple, and corrupted by the pride of empire, the luxury
of Rome, and the perfidious voice of flattery. The cruelty of
Maximin was derived from a different source, the fear of
contempt. Though he depended on the attachment of the soldiers,
who loved him for virtues like their own, he was conscious that
his mean and barbarian origin, his savage appearance, and his
total ignorance of the arts and institutions of civil life,
formed a very unfavorable contrast with the amiable manners of
the unhappy Alexander. He remembered, that, in his humbler
fortune, he had often waited before the door of the haughty
nobles of Rome, and had been denied admittance by the insolence
of their slaves. He recollected too the friendship of a few who
had relieved his poverty, and assisted his rising hopes. But
those who had spurned, and those who had protected, the Thracian,
were guilty of the same crime, the knowledge of his original
obscurity. For this crime many were put to death; and by the
execution of several of his benefactors, Maximin published, in
characters of blood, the indelible history of his baseness and
ingratitude.
The dark and sanguinary soul of the tyrant was open to every
suspicion against those among his subjects who were the most
distinguished by their birth or merit. Whenever he was alarmed
with the sound of treason, his cruelty was unbounded and
unrelenting. A conspiracy against his life was either discovered
or imagined, and Magnus, a consular senator, was named as the
principal author of it. Without a witness, without a trial, and
without an opportunity of defence, Magnus, with four thousand of
his supposed accomplices, was put to death. Italy and the whole
empire were infested with innumerable spies and informers. On the
slightest accusation, the first of the Roman nobles, who had
governed provinces, commanded armies, and been adorned with the
consular and triumphal ornaments, were chained on the public
carriages, and hurried away to the emperor's presence.
Confiscation, exile, or simple death, were esteemed uncommon
instances of his lenity. Some of the unfortunate sufferers he
ordered to be sewed up in the hides of slaughtered animals,
others to be exposed to wild beasts, others again to be beaten to
death with clubs. During the three years of his reign, he
disdained to visit either Rome or Italy. His camp, occasionally
removed from the banks of the Rhine to those of the Danube, was
the seat of his stern despotism, which trampled on every
principle of law and justice, and was supported by the avowed
power of the sword. No man of noble birth, elegant
accomplishments, or knowledge of civil business, was suffered
near his person; and the court of a Roman emperor revived the
idea of those ancient chiefs of slaves and gladiators, whose
savage power had left a deep impression of terror and
detestation.
As long as the cruelty of Maximin was confined to the
illustrious senators, or even to the bold adventurers, who in the
court or army expose themselves to the caprice of fortune, the
body of the people viewed their sufferings with indifference, or
perhaps with pleasure. But the tyrant's avarice, stimulated by
the insatiate desires of the soldiers, at length attacked the
public property. Every city of the empire was possessed of an
independent revenue, destined to purchase corn for the multitude,
and to supply the expenses of the games and entertainments. By a
single act of authority, the whole mass of wealth was at once
confiscated for the use of the Imperial treasury. The temples
were stripped of their most valuable offerings of gold and
silver, and the statues of gods, heroes, and emperors, were
melted down and coined into money. These impious orders could not
be executed without tumults and massacres, as in many places the
people chose rather to die in the defence of their altars, than
to behold in the midst of peace their cities exposed to the
rapine and cruelty of war. The soldiers themselves, among whom
this sacrilegious plunder was distributed, received it with a
blush; and hardened as they were in acts of violence, they
dreaded the just reproaches of their friends and relations.
Throughout the Roman world a general cry of indignation was
heard, imploring vengeance on the common enemy of human kind; and
at length, by an act of private oppression, a peaceful and
unarmed province was driven into rebellion against him.
The procurator of Africa was a servant worthy of such a
master, who considered the fines and confiscations of the rich as
one of the most fruitful branches of the Imperial revenue. An
iniquitous sentence had been pronounced against some opulent
youths of that country, the execution of which would have
stripped them of far the greater part of their patrimony. In this
extremity, a resolution that must either complete or prevent
their ruin, was dictated by despair. A respite of three days,
obtained with difficulty from the rapacious treasurer, was
employed in collecting from their estates a great number of
slaves and peasants blindly devoted to the commands of their
lords, and armed with the rustic weapons of clubs and axes. The
leaders of the conspiracy, as they were admitted to the audience
of the procurator, stabbed him with the daggers concealed under
their garments, and, by the assistance of their tumultuary train,
seized on the little town of Thysdrus, and erected the standard
of rebellion against the sovereign of the Roman empire. They
rested their hopes on the hatred of mankind against Maximin, and
they judiciously resolved to oppose to that detested tyrant an
emperor whose mild virtues had already acquired the love and
esteem of the Romans, and whose authority over the province would
give weight and stability to the enterprise. Gordianus, their
proconsul, and the object of their choice, refused, with
unfeigned reluctance, the dangerous honor, and begged with tears,
that they would suffer him to terminate in peace a long and
innocent life, without staining his feeble age with civil blood.
Their menaces compelled him to accept the Imperial purple, his
only refuge, indeed, against the jealous cruelty of Maximin;
since, according to the reasoning of tyrants, those who have been
esteemed worthy of the throne deserve death, and those who
deliberate have already rebelled.
The family of Gordianus was one of the most illustrious of the
Roman senate. On the father's side he was descended from the
Gracchi; on his mother's, from the emperor Trajan. A great estate
enabled him to support the dignity of his birth, and in the
enjoyment of it, he displayed an elegant taste and beneficent
disposition. The palace in Rome, formerly inhabited by the great
Pompey, had been, during several generations, in the possession
of Gordian's family. It was distinguished by ancient trophies of
naval victories, and decorated with the works of modern painting.
His villa on the road to Præneste was celebrated for baths
of singular beauty and extent, for three stately rooms of a
hundred feet in length, and for a magnificent portico, supported
by two hundred columns of the four most curious and costly sorts
of marble. The public shows exhibited at his expense, and in
which the people were entertained with many hundreds of wild
beasts and gladiators, seem to surpass the fortune of a subject;
and whilst the liberality of other magistrates was confined to a
few solemn festivals at Rome, the magnificence of Gordian was
repeated, when he was ædile, every month in the year, and
extended, during his consulship, to the principal cities of
Italy. He was twice elevated to the last-mentioned dignity, by
Caracalla and by Alexander; for he possessed the uncommon talent
of acquiring the esteem of virtuous princes, without alarming the
jealousy of tyrants. His long life was innocently spent in the
study of letters and the peaceful honors of Rome; and, till he
was named proconsul of Africa by the voice of the senate and the
approbation of Alexander, he appears prudently to have declined
the command of armies and the government of provinces. * As long
as that emperor lived, Africa was happy under the administration
of his worthy representative: after the barbarous Maximin had
usurped the throne, Gordianus alleviated the miseries which he
was unable to prevent. When he reluctantly accepted the purple,
he was above fourscore years old; a last and valuable remains of
the happy age of the Antonines, whose virtues he revived in his
own conduct, and celebrated in an elegant poem of thirty books.
With the venerable proconsul, his son, who had accompanied him
into Africa as his lieutenant, was likewise declared emperor. His
manners were less pure, but his character was equally amiable
with that of his father. Twenty-two acknowledged concubines, and
a library of sixty-two thousand volumes, attested the variety of
his inclinations; and from the productions which he left behind
him, it appears that the former as well as the latter were
designed for use rather than for ostentation. The Roman people
acknowledged in the features of the younger Gordian the
resemblance of Scipio Africanus, recollected with pleasure that
his mother was the granddaughter of Antoninus Pius, and rested
the public hope on those latent virtues which had hitherto, as
they fondly imagined, lain concealed in the luxurious indolence
of private life.
As soon as the Gordians had appeased the first tumult of a
popular election, they removed their court to Carthage. They were
received with the acclamations of the Africans, who honored their
virtues, and who, since the visit of Hadrian, had never beheld
the majesty of a Roman emperor. But these vain acclamations
neither strengthened nor confirmed the title of the Gordians.
They were induced by principle, as well as interest, to solicit
the approbation of the senate; and a deputation of the noblest
provincials was sent, without delay, to Rome, to relate and
justify the conduct of their countrymen, who, having long
suffered with patience, were at length resolved to act with
vigor. The letters of the new princes were modest and respectful,
excusing the necessity which had obliged them to accept the
Imperial title; but submitting their election and their fate to
the supreme judgment of the senate.
The inclinations of the senate were neither doubtful nor
divided. The birth and noble alliances of the Gordians had
intimately connected them with the most illustrious houses of
Rome. Their fortune had created many dependants in that assembly,
their merit had acquired many friends. Their mild administration
opened the flattering prospect of the restoration, not only of
the civil but even of the republican government. The terror of
military violence, which had first obliged the senate to forget
the murder of Alexander, and to ratify the election of a
barbarian peasant, now produced a contrary effect, and provoked
them to assert the injured rights of freedom and humanity. The
hatred of Maximin towards the senate was declared and implacable;
the tamest submission had not appeased his fury, the most
cautious innocence would not remove his suspicions; and even the
care of their own safety urged them to share the fortune of an
enterprise, of which (if unsuccessful) they were sure to be the
first victims. These considerations, and perhaps others of a more
private nature, were debated in a previous conference of the
consuls and the magistrates. As soon as their resolution was
decided, they convoked in the temple of Castor the whole body of
the senate, according to an ancient form of secrecy, calculated
to awaken their attention, and to conceal their decrees.
"Conscript fathers," said the consul Syllanus, "the two Gordians,
both of consular dignity, the one your proconsul, the other your
lieutenant, have been declared emperors by the general consent of
Africa. Let us return thanks," he boldly continued, "to the youth
of Thysdrus; let us return thanks to the faithful people of
Carthage, our generous deliverers from a horrid monster -- Why do
you hear me thus coolly, thus timidly? Why do you cast those
anxious looks on each other? Why hesitate? Maximin is a public
enemy! may his enmity soon expire with him, and may we long enjoy
the prudence and felicity of Gordian the father, the valor and
constancy of Gordian the son!" The noble ardor of the consul
revived the languid spirit of the senate. By a unanimous decree,
the election of the Gordians was ratified, Maximin, his son, and
his adherents, were pronounced enemies of their country, and
liberal rewards were offered to whomsoever had the courage and
good fortune to destroy them.
[See Temple Of Castor and Pollux]
During the emperor's absence, a detachment of the
Prætorian guards remained at Rome, to protect, or rather to
command, the capital. The præfect Vitalianus had signalized
his fidelity to Maximin, by the alacrity with which he had
obeyed, and even prevented the cruel mandates of the tyrant. His
death alone could rescue the authority of the senate, and the
lives of the senators from a state of danger and suspense. Before
their resolves had transpired, a quæstor and some tribunes
were commissioned to take his devoted life. They executed the
order with equal boldness and success; and, with their bloody
daggers in their hands, ran through the streets, proclaiming to
the people and the soldiers the news of the happy revolution. The
enthusiasm of liberty was seconded by the promise of a large
donative, in lands and money; the statues of Maximin were thrown
down; the capital of the empire acknowledged, with transport, the
authority of the two Gordians and the senate; and the example of
Rome was followed by the rest of Italy.
A new spirit had arisen in that assembly, whose long patience
had been insulted by wanton despotism and military license. The
senate assumed the reins of government, and, with a calm
intrepidity, prepared to vindicate by arms the cause of freedom.
Among the consular senators recommended by their merit and
services to the favor of the emperor Alexander, it was easy to
select twenty, not unequal to the command of an army, and the
conduct of a war. To these was the defence of Italy intrusted.
Each was appointed to act in his respective department,
authorized to enroll and discipline the Italian youth; and
instructed to fortify the ports and highways, against the
impending invasion of Maximin. A number of deputies, chosen from
the most illustrious of the senatorian and equestrian orders,
were despatched at the same time to the governors of the several
provinces, earnestly conjuring them to fly to the assistance of
their country, and to remind the nations of their ancient ties of
friendship with the Roman senate and people. The general respect
with which these deputies were received, and the zeal of Italy
and the provinces in favor of the senate, sufficiently prove that
the subjects of Maximin were reduced to that uncommon distress,
in which the body of the people has more to fear from oppression
than from resistance. The consciousness of that melancholy truth,
inspires a degree of persevering fury, seldom to be found in
those civil wars which are artificially supported for the benefit
of a few factious and designing leaders.
For while the cause of the Gordians was embraced with such
diffusive ardor, the Gordians themselves were no more. The feeble
court of Carthage was alarmed by the rapid approach of
Capelianus, governor of Mauritania, who, with a small band of
veterans, and a fierce host of barbarians, attacked a faithful,
but unwarlike province. The younger Gordian sallied out to meet
the enemy at the head of a few guards, and a numerous
undisciplined multitude, educated in the peaceful luxury of
Carthage. His useless valor served only to procure him an
honorable death on the field of battle. His aged father, whose
reign had not exceeded thirty-six days, put an end to his life on
the first news of the defeat. Carthage, destitute of defence,
opened her gates to the conqueror, and Africa was exposed to the
rapacious cruelty of a slave, obliged to satisfy his unrelenting
master with a large account of blood and treasure.
The fate of the Gordians filled Rome with just but unexpected
terror. The senate, convoked in the temple of Concord, affected
to transact the common business of the day; and seemed to
decline, with trembling anxiety, the consideration of their own
and the public danger. A silent consternation prevailed in the
assembly, till a senator, of the name and family of Trajan,
awakened his brethren from their fatal lethargy. He represented
to them that the choice of cautious, dilatory measures had been
long since out of their power; that Maximin, implacable by
nature, and exasperated by injuries, was advancing towards Italy,
at the head of the military force of the empire; and that their
only remaining alternative was either to meet him bravely in the
field, or tamely to expect the tortures and ignominious death
reserved for unsuccessful rebellion. "We have lost," continued
he, "two excellent princes; but unless we desert ourselves, the
hopes of the republic have not perished with the Gordians. Many
are the senators whose virtues have deserved, and whose abilities
would sustain, the Imperial dignity. Let us elect two emperors,
one of whom may conduct the war against the public enemy, whilst
his colleague remains at Rome to direct the civil administration.
I cheerfully expose myself to the danger and envy of the
nomination, and give my vote in favor of Maximus and Balbinus.
Ratify my choice, conscript fathers, or appoint in their place,
others more worthy of the empire." The general apprehension
silenced the whispers of jealousy; the merit of the candidates
was universally acknowledged; and the house resounded with the
sincere acclamations of "Long life and victory to the emperors
Maximus and Balbinus. You are happy in the judgment of the
senate; may the republic be happy under your administration!"
Chapter VII: Tyranny Of Maximin, Rebellion, Civil
Wars, Death Of Maximin. -- Part II.
The virtues and the reputation of the new emperors justified
the most sanguine hopes of the Romans. The various nature of
their talents seemed to appropriate to each his peculiar
department of peace and war, without leaving room for jealous
emulation. Balbinus was an admired orator, a poet of
distinguished fame, and a wise magistrate, who had exercised with
innocence and applause the civil jurisdiction in almost all the
interior provinces of the empire. His birth was noble, his
fortune affluent, his manners liberal and affable. In him the
love of pleasure was corrected by a sense of dignity, nor had the
habits of ease deprived him of a capacity for business. The mind
of Maximus was formed in a rougher mould. By his valor and
abilities he had raised himself from the meanest origin to the
first employments of the state and army. His victories over the
Sarmatians and the Germans, the austerity of his life, and the
rigid impartiality of his justice, while he was a Præfect
of the city, commanded the esteem of a people whose affections
were engaged in favor of the more amiable Balbinus. The two
colleagues had both been consuls, (Balbinus had twice enjoyed
that honorable office,) both had been named among the twenty
lieutenants of the senate; and since the one was sixty and the
other seventy-four years old, they had both attained the full
maturity of age and experience.
After the senate had conferred on Maximus and Balbinus an
equal portion of the consular and tribunitian powers, the title
of Fathers of their country, and the joint office of Supreme
Pontiff, they ascended to the Capitol to return thanks to the
gods, protectors of Rome. The solemn rites of sacrifice were
disturbed by a sedition of the people. The licentious multitude
neither loved the rigid Maximus, nor did they sufficiently fear
the mild and humane Balbinus. Their increasing numbers surrounded
the temple of Jupiter; with obstinate clamors they asserted their
inherent right of consenting to the election of their sovereign;
and demanded, with an apparent moderation, that, besides the two
emperors, chosen by the senate, a third should be added of the
family of the Gordians, as a just return of gratitude to those
princes who had sacrificed their lives for the republic. At the
head of the city-guards, and the youth of the equestrian order,
Maximus and Balbinus attempted to cut their way through the
seditious multitude. The multitude, armed with sticks and stones,
drove them back into the Capitol. It is prudent to yield when the
contest, whatever may be the issue of it, must be fatal to both
parties. A boy, only thirteen years of age, the grandson of the
elder, and nephew * of the younger Gordian, was produced to the
people, invested with the ornaments and title of Cæsar. The
tumult was appeased by this easy condescension; and the two
emperors, as soon as they had been peaceably acknowledged in
Rome, prepared to defend Italy against the common enemy.
Whilst in Rome and Africa, revolutions succeeded each other
with such amazing rapidity, that the mind of Maximin was agitated
by the most furious passions. He is said to have received the
news of the rebellion of the Gordians, and of the decree of the
senate against him, not with the temper of a man, but the rage of
a wild beast; which, as it could not discharge itself on the
distant senate, threatened the life of his son, of his friends,
and of all who ventured to approach his person. The grateful
intelligence of the death of the Gordians was quickly followed by
the assurance that the senate, laying aside all hopes of pardon
or accommodation, had substituted in their room two emperors,
with whose merit he could not be unacquainted. Revenge was the
only consolation left to Maximin, and revenge could only be
obtained by arms. The strength of the legions had been assembled
by Alexander from all parts of the empire. Three successful
campaigns against the Germans and the Sarmatians, had raised
their fame, confirmed their discipline, and even increased their
numbers, by filling the ranks with the flower of the barbarian
youth. The life of Maximin had been spent in war, and the candid
severity of history cannot refuse him the valor of a soldier, or
even the abilities of an experienced general. It might naturally
be expected, that a prince of such a character, instead of
suffering the rebellion to gain stability by delay, should
immediately have marched from the banks of the Danube to those of
the Tyber, and that his victorious army, instigated by contempt
for the senate, and eager to gather the spoils of Italy, should
have burned with impatience to finish the easy and lucrative
conquest. Yet as far as we can trust to the obscure chronology of
that period, it appears that the operations of some foreign war
deferred the Italian expedition till the ensuing spring. From the
prudent conduct of Maximin, we may learn that the savage features
of his character have been exaggerated by the pencil of party,
that his passions, however impetuous, submitted to the force of
reason, and that the barbarian possessed something of the
generous spirit of Sylla, who subdued the enemies of Rome before
he suffered himself to revenge his private injuries.
When the troops of Maximin, advancing in excellent order,
arrived at the foot of the Julian Alps, they were terrified by
the silence and desolation that reigned on the frontiers of
Italy. The villages and open towns had been abandoned on their
approach by the inhabitants, the cattle was driven away, the
provisions removed or destroyed, the bridges broken down, nor was
any thing left which could afford either shelter or subsistence
to an invader. Such had been the wise orders of the generals of
the senate: whose design was to protract the war, to ruin the
army of Maximin by the slow operation of famine, and to consume
his strength in the sieges of the principal cities of Italy,
which they had plentifully stored with men and provisions from
the deserted country. Aquileia received and withstood the first
shock of the invasion. The streams that issue from the head of
the Hadriatic Gulf, swelled by the melting of the winter snows,
opposed an unexpected obstacle to the arms of Maximin. At length,
on a singular bridge, constructed with art and difficulty, of
large hogsheads, he transported his army to the opposite bank,
rooted up the beautiful vineyards in the neighborhood of
Aquileia, demolished the suburbs, and employed the timber of the
buildings in the engines and towers, with which on every side he
attacked the city. The walls, fallen to decay during the security
of a long peace, had been hastily repaired on this sudden
emergency: but the firmest defence of Aquileia consisted in the
constancy of the citizens; all ranks of whom, instead of being
dismayed, were animated by the extreme danger, and their
knowledge of the tyrant's unrelenting temper. Their courage was
supported and directed by Crispinus and Menophilus, two of the
twenty lieutenants of the senate, who, with a small body of
regular troops, had thrown themselves into the besieged place.
The army of Maximin was repulsed in repeated attacks, his
machines destroyed by showers of artificial fire; and the
generous enthusiasm of the Aquileians was exalted into a
confidence of success, by the opinion that Belenus, their tutelar
deity, combated in person in the defence of his distressed
worshippers.
The emperor Maximus, who had advanced as far as Ravenna, to
secure that important place, and to hasten the military
preparations, beheld the event of the war in the more faithful
mirror of reason and policy. He was too sensible, that a single
town could not resist the persevering efforts of a great army;
and he dreaded, lest the enemy, tired with the obstinate
resistance of Aquileia, should on a sudden relinquish the
fruitless siege, and march directly towards Rome. The fate of the
empire and the cause of freedom must then be committed to the
chance of a battle; and what arms could he oppose to the veteran
legions of the Rhine and Danube? Some troops newly levied among
the generous but enervated youth of Italy; and a body of German
auxiliaries, on whose firmness, in the hour of trial, it was
dangerous to depend. In the midst of these just alarms, the
stroke of domestic conspiracy punished the crimes of Maximin, and
delivered Rome and the senate from the calamities that would
surely have attended the victory of an enraged barbarian.
The people of Aquileia had scarcely experienced any of the
common miseries of a siege; their magazines were plentifully
supplied, and several fountains within the walls assured them of
an inexhaustible resource of fresh water. The soldiers of Maximin
were, on the contrary, exposed to the inclemency of the season,
the contagion of disease, and the horrors of famine. The open
country was ruined, the rivers filled with the slain, and
polluted with blood. A spirit of despair and disaffection began
to diffuse itself among the troops; and as they were cut off from
all intelligence, they easily believed that the whole empire had
embraced the cause of the senate, and that they were left as
devoted victims to perish under the impregnable walls of
Aquileia. The fierce temper of the tyrant was exasperated by
disappointments, which he imputed to the cowardice of his army;
and his wanton and ill-timed cruelty, instead of striking terror,
inspired hatred, and a just desire of revenge. A party of
Prætorian guards, who trembled for their wives and children
in the camp of Alba, near Rome, executed the sentence of the
senate. Maximin, abandoned by his guards, was slain in his tent,
with his son, (whom he had associated to the honors of the
purple,) Anulinus the præfect, and the principal ministers
of his tyranny. The sight of their heads, borne on the point of
spears, convinced the citizens of Aquileia that the siege was at
an end; the gates of the city were thrown open, a liberal market
was provided for the hungry troops of Maximin, and the whole army
joined in solemn protestations of fidelity to the senate and the
people of Rome, and to their lawful emperors Maximus and
Balbinus. Such was the deserved fate of a brutal savage,
destitute, as he has generally been represented, of every
sentiment that distinguishes a civilized, or even a human being.
The body was suited to the soul. The stature of Maximin exceeded
the measure of eight feet, and circumstances almost incredible
are related of his matchless strength and appetite. Had he lived
in a less enlightened age, tradition and poetry might well have
described him as one of those monstrous giants, whose
supernatural power was constantly exerted for the destruction of
mankind.
It is easier to conceive than to describe the universal joy of
the Roman world on the fall of the tyrant, the news of which is
said to have been carried in four days from Aquileia to Rome. The
return of Maximus was a triumphal procession; his colleague and
young Gordian went out to meet him, and the three princes made
their entry into the capital, attended by the ambassadors of
almost all the cities of Italy, saluted with the splendid
offerings of gratitude and superstition, and received with the
unfeigned acclamations of the senate and people, who persuaded
themselves that a golden age would succeed to an age of iron. The
conduct of the two emperors corresponded with these expectations.
They administered justice in person; and the rigor of the one was
tempered by the other's clemency. The oppressive taxes with which
Maximin had loaded the rights of inheritance and succession, were
repealed, or at least moderated. Discipline was revived, and with
the advice of the senate many wise laws were enacted by their
imperial ministers, who endeavored to restore a civil
constitution on the ruins of military tyranny. "What reward may
we expect for delivering Rome from a monster?" was the question
asked by Maximus, in a moment of freedom and confidence. Balbinus
answered it without hesitation -- "The love of the senate, of the
people, and of all mankind." "Alas!" replied his more penetrating
colleague -- "alas! I dread the hatred of the soldiers, and the
fatal effects of their resentment." His apprehensions were but
too well justified by the event.
Whilst Maximus was preparing to defend Italy against the
common foe, Balbinus, who remained at Rome, had been engaged in
scenes of blood and intestine discord. Distrust and jealousy
reigned in the senate; and even in the temples where they
assembled, every senator carried either open or concealed arms.
In the midst of their deliberations, two veterans of the guards,
actuated either by curiosity or a sinister motive, audaciously
thrust themselves into the house, and advanced by degrees beyond
the altar of Victory. Gallicanus, a consular, and Mæcenas,
a Prætorian senator, viewed with indignation their insolent
intrusion: drawing their daggers, they laid the spies (for such
they deemed them) dead at the foot of the altar, and then,
advancing to the door of the senate, imprudently exhorted the
multitude to massacre the Prætorians, as the secret
adherents of the tyrant. Those who escaped the first fury of the
tumult took refuge in the camp, which they defended with superior
advantage against the reiterated attacks of the people, assisted
by the numerous bands of gladiators, the property of opulent
nobles. The civil war lasted many days, with infinite loss and
confusion on both sides. When the pipes were broken that supplied
the camp with water, the Prætorians were reduced to
intolerable distress; but in their turn they made desperate
sallies into the city, set fire to a great number of houses, and
filled the streets with the blood of the inhabitants. The emperor
Balbinus attempted, by ineffectual edicts and precarious truces,
to reconcile the factions at Rome. But their animosity, though
smothered for a while, burnt with redoubled violence. The
soldiers, detesting the senate and the people, despised the
weakness of a prince, who wanted either the spirit or the power
to command the obedience of his subjects.
After the tyrant's death, his formidable army had
acknowledged, from necessity rather than from choice, the
authority of Maximus, who transported himself without delay to
the camp before Aquileia. As soon as he had received their oath
of fidelity, he addressed them in terms full of mildness and
moderation; lamented, rather than arraigned the wild disorders of
the times, and assured the soldiers, that of all their past
conduct the senate would remember only their generous desertion
of the tyrant, and their voluntary return to their duty. Maximus
enforced his exhortations by a liberal donative, purified the
camp by a solemn sacrifice of expiation, and then dismissed the
legions to their several provinces, impressed, as he hoped, with
a lively sense of gratitude and obedience. But nothing could
reconcile the haughty spirit of the Prætorians. They
attended the emperors on the memorable day of their public entry
into Rome; but amidst the general acclamations, the sullen,
dejected countenance of the guards sufficiently declared that
they considered themselves as the object, rather than the
partners, of the triumph. When the whole body was united in their
camp, those who had served under Maximin, and those who had
remained at Rome, insensibly communicated to each other their
complaints and apprehensions. The emperors chosen by the army had
perished with ignominy; those elected by the senate were seated
on the throne. The long discord between the civil and military
powers was decided by a war, in which the former had obtained a
complete victory. The soldiers must now learn a new doctrine of
submission to the senate; and whatever clemency was affected by
that politic assembly, they dreaded a slow revenge, colored by
the name of discipline, and justified by fair pretences of the
public good. But their fate was still in their own hands; and if
they had courage to despise the vain terrors of an impotent
republic, it was easy to convince the world, that those who were
masters of the arms, were masters of the authority, of the
state.
When the senate elected two princes, it is probable that,
besides the declared reason of providing for the various
emergencies of peace and war, they were actuated by the secret
desire of weakening by division the despotism of the supreme
magistrate. Their policy was effectual, but it proved fatal both
to their emperors and to themselves. The jealousy of power was
soon exasperated by the difference of character. Maximus despised
Balbinus as a luxurious noble, and was in his turn disdained by
his colleague as an obscure soldier. Their silent discord was
understood rather than seen; but the mutual consciousness
prevented them from uniting in any vigorous measures of defence
against their common enemies of the Prætorian camp. The
whole city was employed in the Capitoline games, and the emperors
were left almost alone in the palace. On a sudden, they were
alarmed by the approach of a troop of desperate assassins.
Ignorant of each other's situation or designs, (for they already
occupied very distant apartments,) afraid to give or to receive
assistance, they wasted the important moments in idle debates and
fruitless recriminations. The arrival of the guards put an end to
the vain strife. They seized on these emperors of the senate, for
such they called them with malicious contempt, stripped them of
their garments, and dragged them in insolent triumph through the
streets of Rome, with the design of inflicting a slow and cruel
death on these unfortunate princes. The fear of a rescue from the
faithful Germans of the Imperial guards, shortened their
tortures; and their bodies, mangled with a thousand wounds, were
left exposed to the insults or to the pity of the populace.
In the space of a few months, six princes had been cut off by
the sword. Gordian, who had already received the title of
Cæsar, was the only person that occurred to the soldiers as
proper to fill the vacant throne. They carried him to the camp,
and unanimously saluted him Augustus and Emperor. His name was
dear to the senate and people; his tender age promised a long
impunity of military license; and the submission of Rome and the
provinces to the choice of the Prætorian guards, saved the
republic, at the expense indeed of its freedom and dignity, from
the horrors of a new civil war in the heart of the capital.
As the third Gordian was only nineteen years of age at the
time of his death, the history of his life, were it known to us
with greater accuracy than it really is, would contain little
more than the account of his education, and the conduct of the
ministers, who by turns abused or guided the simplicity of his
unexperienced youth. Immediately after his accession, he fell
into the hands of his mother's eunuchs, that pernicious vermin of
the East, who, since the days of Elagabalus, had infested the
Roman palace. By the artful conspiracy of these wretches, an
impenetrable veil was drawn between an innocent prince and his
oppressed subjects, the virtuous disposition of Gordian was
deceived, and the honors of the empire sold without his
knowledge, though in a very public manner, to the most worthless
of mankind. We are ignorant by what fortunate accident the
emperor escaped from this ignominious slavery, and devolved his
confidence on a minister, whose wise counsels had no object
except the glory of his sovereign and the happiness of the
people. It should seem that love and learning introduced
Misitheus to the favor of Gordian. The young prince married the
daughter of his master of rhetoric, and promoted his
father-in-law to the first offices of the empire. Two admirable
letters that passed between them are still extant. The minister,
with the conscious dignity of virtue, congratulates Gordian that
he is delivered from the tyranny of the eunuchs, and still more
that he is sensible of his deliverance. The emperor acknowledges,
with an amiable confusion, the errors of his past conduct; and
laments, with singular propriety, the misfortune of a monarch,
from whom a venal tribe of courtiers perpetually labor to conceal
the truth.
The life of Misitheus had been spent in the profession of
letters, not of arms; yet such was the versatile genius of that
great man, that, when he was appointed Prætorian
Præfect, he discharged the military duties of his place
with vigor and ability. The Persians had invaded Mesopotamia, and
threatened Antioch. By the persuasion of his father-in-law, the
young emperor quitted the luxury of Rome, opened, for the last
time recorded in history, the temple of Janus, and marched in
person into the East. On his approach, with a great army, the
Persians withdrew their garrisons from the cities which they had
already taken, and retired from the Euphrates to the Tigris.
Gordian enjoyed the pleasure of announcing to the senate the
first success of his arms, which he ascribed, with a becoming
modesty and gratitude, to the wisdom of his father and
Præfect. During the whole expedition, Misitheus watched
over the safety and discipline of the army; whilst he prevented
their dangerous murmurs by maintaining a regular plenty in the
camp, and by establishing ample magazines of vinegar, bacon,
straw, barley, and wheat in all the cities of the frontier. But
the prosperity of Gordian expired with Misitheus, who died of a
flux, not with out very strong suspicions of poison. Philip, his
successor in the præfecture, was an Arab by birth, and
consequently, in the earlier part of his life, a robber by
profession. His rise from so obscure a station to the first
dignities of the empire, seems to prove that he was a bold and
able leader. But his boldness prompted him to aspire to the
throne, and his abilities were employed to supplant, not to
serve, his indulgent master. The minds of the soldiers were
irritated by an artificial scarcity, created by his contrivance
in the camp; and the distress of the army was attributed to the
youth and incapacity of the prince. It is not in our power to
trace the successive steps of the secret conspiracy and open
sedition, which were at length fatal to Gordian. A sepulchral
monument was erected to his memory on the spot where he was
killed, near the conflux of the Euphrates with the little river
Aboras. The fortunate Philip, raised to the empire by the votes
of the soldiers, found a ready obedience from the senate and the
provinces.
We cannot forbear transcribing the ingenious, though somewhat
fanciful description, which a celebrated writer of our own times
has traced of the military government of the Roman empire. "What
in that age was called the Roman empire, was only an irregular
republic, not unlike the aristocracy of Algiers, where the
militia, possessed of the sovereignty, creates and deposes a
magistrate, who is styled a Dey. Perhaps, indeed, it may be laid
down as a general rule, that a military government is, in some
respects, more republican than monarchical. Nor can it be said
that the soldiers only partook of the government by their
disobedience and rebellions. The speeches made to them by the
emperors, were they not at length of the same nature as those
formerly pronounced to the people by the consuls and the
tribunes? And although the armies had no regular place or forms
of assembly; though their debates were short, their action
sudden, and their resolves seldom the result of cool reflection,
did they not dispose, with absolute sway, of the public fortune?
What was the emperor, except the minister of a violent
government, elected for the private benefit of the soldiers?
"When the army had elected Philip, who was Prætorian
præfect to the third Gordian, the latter demanded that he
might remain sole emperor; he was unable to obtain it. He
requested that the power might be equally divided between them;
the army would not listen to his speech. He consented to be
degraded to the rank of Cæsar; the favor was refused him.
He desired, at least, he might be appointed Prætorian
præfect; his prayer was rejected. Finally, he pleaded for
his life. The army, in these several judgments, exercised the
supreme magistracy." According to the historian, whose doubtful
narrative the President De Montesquieu has adopted, Philip, who,
during the whole transaction, had preserved a sullen silence, was
inclined to spare the innocent life of his benefactor; till,
recollecting that his innocence might excite a dangerous
compassion in the Roman world, he commanded, without regard to
his suppliant cries, that he should be seized, stripped, and led
away to instant death. After a moment's pause, the inhuman
sentence was executed.
Chapter VII: Tyranny Of Maximin, Rebellion, Civil
Wars, Death Of Maximin. -- Part III.
On his return from the East to Rome, Philip, desirous of
obliterating the memory of his crimes, and of captivating the
affections of the people, solemnized the secular games with
infinite pomp and magnificence. Since their institution or
revival by Augustus, they had been celebrated by Claudius, by
Domitian, and by Severus, and were now renewed the fifth time, on
the accomplishment of the full period of a thousand years from
the foundation of Rome. Every circumstance of the secular games
was skillfully adapted to inspire the superstitious mind with
deep and solemn reverence. The long interval between them
exceeded the term of human life; and as none of the spectators
had already seen them, none could flatter themselves with the
expectation of beholding them a second time. The mystic
sacrifices were performed, during three nights, on the banks of
the Tyber; and the Campus Martius resounded with music and
dances, and was illuminated with innumerable lamps and torches.
Slaves and strangers were excluded from any participation in
these national ceremonies. A chorus of twenty-seven youths, and
as many virgins, of noble families, and whose parents were both
alive, implored the propitious gods in favor of the present, and
for the hope of the rising generation; requesting, in religious
hymns, that according to the faith of their ancient oracles, they
would still maintain the virtue, the felicity, and the empire of
the Roman people. The magnificence of Philip's shows and
entertainments dazzled the eyes of the multitude. The devout were
employed in the rites of superstition, whilst the reflecting few
revolved in their anxious minds the past history and the future
fate of the empire.
Since Romulus, with a small band of shepherds and outlaws,
fortified himself on the hills near the Tyber, ten centuries had
already elapsed. During the four first ages, the Romans, in the
laborious school of poverty, had acquired the virtues of war and
government: by the vigorous exertion of those virtues, and by the
assistance of fortune, they had obtained, in the course of the
three succeeding centuries, an absolute empire over many
countries of Europe, Asia, and Africa. The last three hundred
years had been consumed in apparent prosperity and internal
decline. The nation of soldiers, magistrates, and legislators,
who composed the thirty-five tribes of the Roman people, were
dissolved into the common mass of mankind, and confounded with
the millions of servile provincials, who had received the name,
without adopting the spirit, of Romans. A mercenary army, levied
among the subjects and barbarians of the frontier, was the only
order of men who preserved and abused their independence. By
their tumultuary election, a Syrian, a Goth, or an Arab, was
exalted to the throne of Rome, and invested with despotic power
over the conquests and over the country of the Scipios.
The limits of the Roman empire still extended from the Western
Ocean to the Tigris, and from Mount Atlas to the Rhine and the
Danube. To the undiscerning eye of the vulgar, Philip appeared a
monarch no less powerful than Hadrian or Augustus had formerly
been. The form was still the same, but the animating health and
vigor were fled. The industry of the people was discouraged and
exhausted by a long series of oppression. The discipline of the
legions, which alone, after the extinction of every other virtue,
had propped the greatness of the state, was corrupted by the
ambition, or relaxed by the weakness, of the emperors. The
strength of the frontiers, which had always consisted in arms
rather than in fortifications, was insensibly undermined; and the
fairest provinces were left exposed to the rapaciousness or
ambition of the barbarians, who soon discovered the decline of
the Roman empire.
Chapter VIII: State Of Persion And Restoration Of The Monarchy.
Part I.
Of The State Of Persia After The Restoration Of The Monarchy
By Artaxerxes.
Whenever Tacitus indulges himself in those beautiful episodes,
in which he relates some domestic transaction of the Germans or
of the Parthians, his principal object is to relieve the
attention of the reader from a uniform scene of vice and misery.
From the reign of Augustus to the time of Alexander Severus, the
enemies of Rome were in her bosom -- the tyrants and the
soldiers; and her prosperity had a very distant and feeble
interest in the revolutions that might happen beyond the Rhine
and the Euphrates. But when the military order had levelled, in
wild anarchy, the power of the prince, the laws of the senate,
and even the discipline of the camp, the barbarians of the North
and of the East, who had long hovered on the frontier, boldly
attacked the provinces of a declining monarchy. Their vexatious
inroads were changed into formidable irruptions, and, after a
long vicissitude of mutual calamities, many tribes of the
victorious invaders established themselves in the provinces of
the Roman Empire. To obtain a clearer knowledge of these great
events, we shall endeavor to form a previous idea of the
character, forces, and designs of those nations who avenged the
cause of Hannibal and Mithridates.
In the more early ages of the world, whilst the forest that
covered Europe afforded a retreat to a few wandering savages, the
inhabitants of Asia were already collected into populous cities,
and reduced under extensive empires, the seat of the arts, of
luxury, and of despotism. The Assyrians reigned over the East,
till the sceptre of Ninus and Semiramis dropped from the hands of
their enervated successors. The Medes and the Babylonians divided
their power, and were themselves swallowed up in the monarchy of
the Persians, whose arms could not be confined within the narrow
limits of Asia. Followed, as it is said, by two millions of men,
Xerxes, the descendant of Cyrus, invaded Greece. Thirty thousand
soldiers, under the command of Alexander, the son of Philip, who
was intrusted by the Greeks with their glory and revenge, were
sufficient to subdue Persia. The princes of the house of Seleucus
usurped and lost the Macedonian command over the East. About the
same time, that, by an ignominious treaty, they resigned to the
Romans the country on this side Mount Tarus, they were driven by
the Parthians, * an obscure horde of Scythian origin, from all
the provinces of Upper Asia. The formidable power of the
Parthians, which spread from India to the frontiers of Syria, was
in its turn subverted by Ardshir, or Artaxerxes; the founder of a
new dynasty, which, under the name of Sassanides, governed Persia
till the invasion of the Arabs. This great revolution, whose
fatal influence was soon experienced by the Romans, happened in
the fourth year of Alexander Severus, two hundred and twenty-six
years after the Christian era.
Artaxerxes had served with great reputation in the armies of
Artaban, the last king of the Parthians, and it appears that he
was driven into exile and rebellion by royal ingratitude, the
customary reward for superior merit. His birth was obscure, and
the obscurity equally gave room to the aspersions of his enemies,
and the flattery of his adherents. If we credit the scandal of
the former, Artaxerxes sprang from the illegitimate commerce of a
tanner's wife with a common soldier. The latter represent him as
descended from a branch of the ancient kings of Persian, though
time and misfortune had gradually reduced his ancestors to the
humble station of private citizens. As the lineal heir of the
monarchy, he asserted his right to the throne, and challenged the
noble task of delivering the Persians from the oppression under
which they groaned above five centuries since the death of
Darius. The Parthians were defeated in three great battles. * In
the last of these their king Artaban was slain, and the spirit of
the nation was forever broken. The authority of Artaxerxes was
solemnly acknowledged in a great assembly held at Balch in
Khorasan. Two younger branches of the royal house of Arsaces were
confounded among the prostrate satraps. A third, more mindful of
ancient grandeur than of present necessity, attempted to retire,
with a numerous train of vessels, towards their kinsman, the king
of Armenia; but this little army of deserters was intercepted,
and cut off, by the vigilance of the conqueror, who boldly
assumed the double diadem, and the title of King of Kings, which
had been enjoyed by his predecessor. But these pompous titles,
instead of gratifying the vanity of the Persian, served only to
admonish him of his duty, and to inflame in his soul and should
the ambition of restoring in their full splendor, the religion
and empire of Cyrus.
I. During the long servitude of Persia under the Macedonian
and the Parthian yoke, the nations of Europe and Asia had
mutually adopted and corrupted each other's superstitions. The
Arsacides, indeed, practised the worship of the Magi; but they
disgraced and polluted it with a various mixture of foreign
idolatry. * The memory of Zoroaster, the ancient prophet and
philosopher of the Persians, was still revered in the East; but
the obsolete and mysterious language, in which the Zendavesta was
composed, opened a field of dispute to seventy sects, who
variously explained the fundamental doctrines of their religion,
and were all indifferently derided by a crowd of infidels, who
rejected the divine mission and miracles of the prophet. To
suppress the idolaters, reunite the schismatics, and confute the
unbelievers, by the infallible decision of a general council, the
pious Artaxerxes summoned the Magi from all parts of his
dominions. These priests, who had so long sighed in contempt and
obscurity obeyed the welcome summons; and, on the appointed day,
appeared, to the number of about eighty thousand. But as the
debates of so tumultuous an assembly could not have been directed
by the authority of reason, or influenced by the art of policy,
the Persian synod was reduced, by successive operations, to forty
thousand, to four thousand, to four hundred, to forty, and at
last to seven Magi, the most respected for their learning and
piety. One of these, Erdaviraph, a young but holy prelate,
received from the hands of his brethren three cups of
soporiferous wine. He drank them off, and instantly fell into a
long and profound sleep. As soon as he waked, he related to the
king and to the believing multitude, his journey to heaven, and
his intimate conferences with the Deity. Every doubt was silenced
by this supernatural evidence; and the articles of the faith of
Zoroaster were fixed with equal authority and precision. A short
delineation of that celebrated system will be found useful, not
only to display the character of the Persian nation, but to
illustrate many of their most important transactions, both in
peace and war, with the Roman empire.
The great and fundamental article of the system, was the
celebrated doctrine of the two principles; a bold and injudicious
attempt of Eastern philosophy to reconcile the existence of moral
and physical evil with the attributes of a beneficent Creator and
Governor of the world. The first and original Being, in whom, or
by whom, the universe exists, is denominated in the writings of
Zoroaster, Time without bounds; but it must be
confessed, that this infinite substance seems rather a
metaphysical, abstraction of the mind, than a real object endowed
with self-consciousness, or possessed of moral perfections. From
either the blind or the intelligent operation of this infinite
Time, which bears but too near an affinity with the chaos of the
Greeks, the two secondary but active principles of the universe,
were from all eternity produced, Ormusd and Ahriman, each of them
possessed of the powers of creation, but each disposed, by his
invariable nature, to exercise them with different designs. * The
principle of good is eternally absorbed in light; the principle
of evil eternally buried in darkness. The wise benevolence of
Ormusd formed man capable of virtue, and abundantly provided his
fair habitation with the materials of happiness. By his vigilant
providence, the motion of the planets, the order of the seasons,
and the temperate mixture of the elements, are preserved. But the
malice of Ahriman has long since pierced Ormusd's egg;
or, in other words, has violated the harmony of his works. Since
that fatal eruption, the most minute articles of good and evil
are intimately intermingled and agitated together; the rankest
poisons spring up amidst the most salutary plants; deluges,
earthquakes, and conflagrations attest the conflict of Nature,
and the little world of man is perpetually shaken by vice and
misfortune. Whilst the rest of human kind are led away captives
in the chains of their infernal enemy, the faithful Persian alone
reserves his religious adoration for his friend and protector
Ormusd, and fights under his banner of light, in the full
confidence that he shall, in the last day, share the glory of his
triumph. At that decisive period, the enlightened wisdom of
goodness will render the power of Ormusd superior to the furious
malice of his rival. Ahriman and his followers, disarmed and
subdued, will sink into their native darkness; and virtue will
maintain the eternal peace and harmony of the universe.
Chapter VIII: State Of Persion And Restoration Of
The Monarchy. -- Part II.
The theology of Zoroaster was darkly comprehended by
foreigners, and even by the far greater number of his disciples;
but the most careless observers were struck with the philosophic
simplicity of the Persian worship. "That people," said Herodotus,
"rejects the use of temples, of altars, and of statues, and
smiles at the folly of those nations who imagine that the gods
are sprung from, or bear any affinity with, the human nature. The
tops of the highest mountains are the places chosen for
sacrifices. Hymns and prayers are the principal worship; the
Supreme God, who fills the wide circle of heaven, is the object
to whom they are addressed." Yet, at the same time, in the true
spirit of a polytheist, he accuseth them of adoring Earth, Water,
Fire, the Winds, and the Sun and Moon. But the Persians of every
age have denied the charge, and explained the equivocal conduct,
which might appear to give a color to it. The elements, and more
particularly Fire, Light, and the Sun, whom they called Mithra,
were the objects of their religious reverence, because they
considered them as the purest symbols, the noblest productions,
and the most powerful agents of the Divine Power and Nature.
Every mode of religion, to make a deep and lasting impression
on the human mind, must exercise our obedience, by enjoining
practices of devotion, for which we can assign no reason; and
must acquire our esteem, by inculcating moral duties analogous to
the dictates of our own hearts. The religion of Zoroaster was
abundantly provided with the former and possessed a sufficient
portion of the latter. At the age of puberty, the faithful
Persian was invested with a mysterious girdle, the badge of the
divine protection; and from that moment all the actions of his
life, even the most indifferent, or the most necessary, were
sanctified by their peculiar prayers, ejaculations, or
genuflections; the omission of which, under any circumstances,
was a grievous sin, not inferior in guilt to the violation of the
moral duties. The moral duties, however, of justice, mercy,
liberality, &c., were in their turn required of the disciple
of Zoroaster, who wished to escape the persecution of Ahriman,
and to live with Ormusd in a blissful eternity, where the degree
of felicity will be exactly proportioned to the degree of virtue
and piety.
But there are some remarkable instances in which Zoroaster
lays aside the prophet, assumes the legislator, and discovers a
liberal concern for private and public happiness, seldom to be
found among the grovelling or visionary schemes of superstition.
Fasting and celibacy, the common means of purchasing the divine
favor, he condemns with abhorrence, as a criminal rejection of
the best gifts of Providence. The saint, in the Magian religion,
is obliged to beget children, to plant useful trees, to destroy
noxious animals, to convey water to the dry lands of Persia, and
to work out his salvation by pursuing all the labors of
agriculture. * We may quote from the Zendavesta a wise and
benevolent maxim, which compensates for many an absurdity. "He
who sows the ground with care and diligence acquires a greater
stock of religious merit than he could gain by the repetition of
ten thousand prayers." In the spring of every year a festival was
celebrated, destined to represent the primitive equality, and the
present connection, of mankind. The stately kings of Persia,
exchanging their vain pomp for more genuine greatness, freely
mingled with the humblest but most useful of their subjects. On
that day the husbandmen were admitted, without distinction, to
the table of the king and his satraps. The monarch accepted their
petitions, inquired into their grievances, and conversed with
them on the most equal terms. "From your labors," was he
accustomed to say, (and to say with truth, if not with
sincerity,) "from your labors we receive our subsistence; you
derive your tranquillity from our vigilance: since, therefore, we
are mutually necessary to each other, let us live together like
brothers in concord and love." Such a festival must indeed have
degenerated, in a wealthy and despotic empire, into a theatrical
representation; but it was at least a comedy well worthy of a
royal audience, and which might sometimes imprint a salutary
lesson on the mind of a young prince.
Had Zoroaster, in all his institutions, invariably supported
this exalted character, his name would deserve a place with those
of Numa and Confucius, and his system would be justly entitled to
all the applause, which it has pleased some of our divines, and
even some of our philosophers, to bestow on it. But in that
motley composition, dictated by reason and passion, by enthusiasm
and by selfish motives, some useful and sublime truths were
disgraced by a mixture of the most abject and dangerous
superstition. The Magi, or sacerdotal order, were extremely
numerous, since, as we have already seen, fourscore thousand of
them were convened in a general council. Their forces were
multiplied by discipline. A regular hierarchy was diffused
through all the provinces of Persia; and the Archimagus, who
resided at Balch, was respected as the visible head of the
church, and the lawful successor of Zoroaster. The property of
the Magi was very considerable. Besides the less invidious
possession of a large tract of the most fertile lands of Media,
they levied a general tax on the fortunes and the industry of the
Persians. "Though your good works," says the interested prophet,
"exceed in number the leaves of the trees, the drops of rain, the
stars in the heaven, or the sands on the sea-shore, they will all
be unprofitable to you, unless they are accepted by the
destour, or priest. To obtain the acceptation of this
guide to salvation, you must faithfully pay him tithes
of all you possess, of your goods, of your lands, and of your
money. If the destour be satisfied, your soul will escape hell
tortures; you will secure praise in this world and happiness in
the next. For the destours are the teachers of religion; they
know all things, and they deliver all men." *
These convenient maxims of reverence and implicit were
doubtless imprinted with care on the tender minds of youth; since
the Magi were the masters of education in Persia, and to their
hands the children even of the royal family were intrusted. The
Persian priests, who were of a speculative genius, preserved and
investigated the secrets of Oriental philosophy; and acquired,
either by superior knowledge, or superior art, the reputation of
being well versed in some occult sciences, which have derived
their appellation from the Magi. Those of more active
dispositions mixed with the world in courts and cities; and it is
observed, that the administration of Artaxerxes was in a great
measure directed by the counsels of the sacerdotal order, whose
dignity, either from policy or devotion, that prince restored to
its ancient splendor.
The first counsel of the Magi was agreeable to the unsociable
genius of their faith, to the practice of ancient kings, and even
to the example of their legislator, who had a victim to a
religious war, excited by his own intolerant zeal. By an edict of
Artaxerxes, the exercise of every worship, except that of
Zoroaster, was severely prohibited. The temples of the Parthians,
and the statues of their deified monarchs, were thrown down with
ignominy. The sword of Aristotle (such was the name given by the
Orientals to the polytheism and philosophy of the Greeks) was
easily broken; the flames of persecution soon reached the more
stubborn Jews and Christians; nor did they spare the heretics of
their own nation and religion. The majesty of Ormusd, who was
jealous of a rival, was seconded by the despotism of Artaxerxes,
who could not suffer a rebel; and the schismatics within his vast
empire were soon reduced to the inconsiderable number of eighty
thousand. * This spirit of persecution reflects dishonor on the
religion of Zoroaster; but as it was not productive of any civil
commotion, it served to strengthen the new monarchy, by uniting
all the various inhabitants of Persia in the bands of religious
zeal.
II. Artaxerxes, by his valor and conduct, had wrested the
sceptre of the East from the ancient royal family of Parthia.
There still remained the more difficult task of establishing,
throughout the vast extent of Persia, a uniform and vigorous
administration. The weak indulgence of the Arsacides had resigned
to their sons and brothers the principal provinces, and the
greatest offices of the kingdom in the nature of hereditary
possessions. The vitax, or eighteen most powerful satraps, were
permitted to assume the regal title; and the vain pride of the
monarch was delighted with a nominal dominion over so many vassal
kings. Even tribes of barbarians in their mountains, and the
Greek cities of Upper Asia, within their walls, scarcely
acknowledged, or seldom obeyed. any superior; and the Parthian
empire exhibited, under other names, a lively image of the feudal
system which has since prevailed in Europe. But the active
victor, at the head of a numerous and disciplined army, visited
in person every province of Persia. The defeat of the boldest
rebels, and the reduction of the strongest fortifications,
diffused the terror of his arms, and prepared the way for the
peaceful reception of his authority. An obstinate resistance was
fatal to the chiefs; but their followers were treated with
lenity. A cheerful submission was rewarded with honors and
riches, but the prudent Artaxerxes suffering no person except
himself to assume the title of king, abolished every intermediate
power between the throne and the people. His kingdom, nearly
equal in extent to modern Persia, was, on every side, bounded by
the sea, or by great rivers; by the Euphrates, the Tigris, the
Araxes, the Oxus, and the Indus, by the Caspian Sea, and the Gulf
of Persia. That country was computed to contain, in the last
century, five hundred and fifty-four cities, sixty thousand
villages, and about forty millions of souls. If we compare the
administration of the house of Sassan with that of the house of
Sefi, the political influence of the Magian with that of the
Mahometan religion, we shall probably infer, that the kingdom of
Artaxerxes contained at least as great a number of cities,
villages, and inhabitants. But it must likewise be confessed,
that in every age the want of harbors on the sea-coast, and the
scarcity of fresh water in the inland provinces, have been very
unfavorable to the commerce and agriculture of the Persians; who,
in the calculation of their numbers, seem to have indulged one of
the nearest, though most common, artifices of national
vanity.
As soon as the ambitious mind of Artaxerxes had triumphed ever
the resistance of his vassals, he began to threaten the
neighboring states, who, during the long slumber of his
predecessors, had insulted Persia with impunity. He obtained some
easy victories over the wild Scythians and the effeminate
Indians; but the Romans were an enemy, who, by their past
injuries and present power, deserved the utmost efforts of his
arms. A forty years' tranquillity, the fruit of valor and
moderation, had succeeded the victories of Trajan. During the
period that elapsed from the accession of Marcus to the reign of
Alexander, the Roman and the Parthian empires were twice engaged
in war; and although the whole strength of the Arsacides
contended with a part only of the forces of Rome, the event was
most commonly in favor of the latter. Macrinus, indeed, prompted
by his precarious situation and pusillanimous temper, purchased a
peace at the expense of near two millions of our money; but the
generals of Marcus, the emperor Severus, and his son, erected
many trophies in Armenia, Mesopotamia, and Assyria. Among their
exploits, the imperfect relation of which would have unseasonably
interrupted the more important series of domestic revolutions, we
shall only mention the repeated calamities of the two great
cities of Seleucia and Ctesiphon.
Seleucia, on the western bank of the Tigris, about forty-five
miles to the north of ancient Babylon, was the capital of the
Macedonian conquests in Upper Asia. Many ages after the fall of
their empire, Seleucia retained the genuine characters of a
Grecian colony, arts, military virtue, and the love of freedom.
The independent republic was governed by a senate of three
hundred nobles; the people consisted of six hundred thousand
citizens; the walls were strong, and as long as concord prevailed
among the several orders of the state, they viewed with contempt
the power of the Parthian: but the madness of faction was
sometimes provoked to implore the dangerous aid of the common
enemy, who was posted almost at the gates of the colony. The
Parthian monarchs, like the Mogul sovereigns of Hindostan,
delighted in the pastoral life of their Scythian ancestors; and
the Imperial camp was frequently pitched in the plain of
Ctesiphon, on the eastern bank of the Tigris, at the distance of
only three miles from Seleucia. The innumerable attendants on
luxury and despotism resorted to the court, and the little
village of Ctesiphon insensibly swelled into a great city. Under
the reign of Marcus, the Roman generals penetrated as far as
Ctesiphon and Seleucia. They were received as friends by the
Greek colony; they attacked as enemies the seat of the Parthian
kings; yet both cities experienced the same treatment. The sack
and conflagration of Seleucia, with the massacre of three hundred
thousand of the inhabitants, tarnished the glory of the Roman
triumph. Seleucia, already exhausted by the neighborhood of a too
powerful rival, sunk under the fatal blow; but Ctesiphon, in
about thirty-three years, had sufficiently recovered its strength
to maintain an obstinate siege against the emperor Severus. The
city was, however, taken by assault; the king, who defended it in
person, escaped with precipitation; a hundred thousand captives,
and a rich booty, rewarded the fatigues of the Roman soldiers.
Notwithstanding these misfortunes, Ctesiphon succeeded to Babylon
and to Seleucia, as one of the great capitals of the East. In
summer, the monarch of Persia enjoyed at Ecbatana the cool
breezes of the mountains of Media; but the mildness of the
climate engaged him to prefer Ctesiphon for his winter
residence.
From these successful inroads the Romans derived no real or
lasting benefit; nor did they attempt to preserve such distant
conquests, separated from the provinces of the empire by a large
tract of intermediate desert. The reduction of the kingdom of
Osrhoene was an acquisition of less splendor indeed, but of a far
more solid advantage. That little state occupied the northern and
most fertile part of Mesopotamia, between the Euphrates and the
Tigris. Edessa, its capital, was situated about twenty miles
beyond the former of those rivers; and the inhabitants, since the
time of Alexander, were a mixed race of Greeks, Arabs, Syrians,
and Armenians. The feeble sovereigns of Osrhoene, placed on the
dangerous verge of two contending empires, were attached from
inclination to the Parthian cause; but the superior power of Rome
exacted from them a reluctant homage, which is still attested by
their medals. After the conclusion of the Parthian war under
Marcus, it was judged prudent to secure some substantia, pledges
of their doubtful fidelity. Forts were constructed in several
parts of the country, and a Roman garrison was fixed in the
strong town of Nisibis. During the troubles that followed the
death of Commodus, the princes of Osrhoene attempted to shake off
the yoke; but the stern policy of Severus confirmed their
dependence, and the perfidy of Caracalla completed the easy
conquest. Abgarus, the last king of Edessa, was sent in chains to
Rome, his dominions reduced into a province, and his capital
dignified with the rank of colony; and thus the Romans, about ten
years before the fall of the Parthian monarchy, obtained a firm
and permanent establishment beyond the Euphrates.
Prudence as well as glory might have justified a war on the
side of Artaxerxes, had his views been confined to the defence or
acquisition of a useful frontier. but the ambitious Persian
openly avowed a far more extensive design of conquest; and he
thought himself able to support his lofty pretensions by the arms
of reason as well as by those of power. Cyrus, he alleged, had
first subdued, and his successors had for a long time possessed,
the whole extent of Asia, as far as the Propontis and the
Ægean Sea; the provinces of Caria and Ionia, under their
empire, had been governed by Persian satraps, and all Egypt, to
the confines of Æthiopia, had acknowledged their
sovereignty. Their rights had been suspended, but not destroyed,
by a long usurpation; and as soon as he received the Persian
diadem, which birth and successful valor had placed upon his
head, the first great duty of his station called upon him to
restore the ancient limits and splendor of the monarchy. The
Great King, therefore, (such was the haughty style of his
embassies to the emperor Alexander,) commanded the Romans
instantly to depart from all the provinces of his ancestors, and,
yielding to the Persians the empire of Asia, to content
themselves with the undisturbed possession of Europe. This
haughty mandate was delivered by four hundred of the tallest and
most beautiful of the Persians; who, by their fine horses,
splendid arms, and rich apparel, displayed the pride and
greatness of their master. Such an embassy was much less an offer
of negotiation than a declaration of war. Both Alexander Severus
and Artaxerxes, collecting the military force of the Roman and
Persian monarchies, resolved in this important contest to lead
their armies in person.
If we credit what should seem the most authentic of all
records, an oration, still extant, and delivered by the emperor
himself to the senate, we must allow that the victory of
Alexander Severus was not inferior to any of those formerly
obtained over the Persians by the son of Philip. The army of the
Great King consisted of one hundred and twenty thousand horse,
clothed in complete armor of steel; of seven hundred elephants,
with towers filled with archers on their backs, and of eighteen
hundred chariots armed with scythes. This formidable host, the
like of which is not to be found in eastern history, and has
scarcely been imagined in eastern romance, was discomfited in a
great battle, in which the Roman Alexander proved himself an
intrepid soldier and a skilful general. The Great King fled
before his valor; an immense booty, and the conquest of
Mesopotamia, were the immediate fruits of this signal victory.
Such are the circumstances of this ostentatious and improbable
relation, dictated, as it too plainly appears, by the vanity of
the monarch, adorned by the unblushing servility of his
flatterers, and received without contradiction by a distant and
obsequious senate. Far from being inclined to believe that the
arms of Alexander obtained any memorable advantage over the
Persians, we are induced to suspect that all this blaze of
imaginary glory was designed to conceal some real disgrace.
Our suspicious are confirmed by the authority of a
contemporary historian, who mentions the virtues of Alexander
with respect, and his faults with candor. He describes the
judicious plan which had been formed for the conduct of the war.
Three Roman armies were destined to invade Persia at the same
time, and by different roads. But the operations of the campaign,
though wisely concerted, were not executed either with ability or
success. The first of these armies, as soon as it had entered the
marshy plains of Babylon, towards the artificial conflux of the
Euphrates and the Tigris, was encompassed by the superior
numbers, and destroyed by the arrows of the enemy. The alliance
of Chosroes, king of Armenia, and the long tract of mountainous
country, in which the Persian cavalry was of little service,
opened a secure entrance into the heart of Media, to the second
of the Roman armies. These brave troops laid waste the adjacent
provinces, and by several successful actions against Artaxerxes,
gave a faint color to the emperor's vanity. But the retreat of
this victorious army was imprudent, or at least unfortunate. In
repassing the mountains, great numbers of soldiers perished by
the badness of the roads, and the severity of the winter season.
It had been resolved, that whilst these two great detachments
penetrated into the opposite extremes of the Persian dominions,
the main body, under the command of Alexander himself, should
support their attack, by invading the centre of the kingdom. But
the unexperienced youth, influenced by his mother's counsels, and
perhaps by his own fears, deserted the bravest troops, and the
fairest prospect of victory; and after consuming in Mesopotamia
an inactive and inglorious summer, he led back to Antioch an army
diminished by sickness, and provoked by disappointment. The
behavior of Artaxerxes had been very different. Flying with
rapidity from the hills of Media to the marshes of the Euphrates,
he had everywhere opposed the invaders in person; and in either
fortune had united with the ablest conduct the most undaunted
resolution. But in several obstinate engagements against the
veteran legions of Rome, the Persian monarch had lost the flower
of his troops. Even his victories had weakened his power. The
favorable opportunities of the absence of Alexander, and of the
confusions that followed that emperor's death, presented
themselves in vain to his ambition. Instead of expelling the
Romans, as he pretended, from the continent of Asia, he found
himself unable to wrest from their hands the little province of
Mesopotamia.
The reign of Artaxerxes, which, from the last defeat of the
Parthians, lasted only fourteen years, forms a memorable
æra in the history of the East, and even in that of Rome.
His character seems to have been marked by those bold and
commanding features, that generally distinguish the princes who
conquer, from those who inherit an empire. Till the last period
of the Persian monarchy, his code of laws was respected as the
groundwork of their civil and religious policy. Several of his
sayings are preserved. One of them in particular discovers a deep
insight into the constitution of government. "The authority of
the prince," said Artaxerxes, "must be defended by a military
force; that force can only be maintained by taxes; all taxes
must, at last, fall upon agriculture; and agriculture can never
flourish except under the protection of justice and moderation."
Artaxerxes bequeathed his new empire, and his ambitious designs
against the Romans, to Sapor, a son not unworthy of his great
father; but those designs were too extensive for the power of
Persia, and served only to involve both nations in a long series
of destructive wars and reciprocal calamities.
The Persians, long since civilized and corrupted, were very
far from possessing the martial independence, and the intrepid
hardiness, both of mind and body, which have rendered the
northern barbarians masters of the world. The science of war,
that constituted the more rational force of Greece and Rome, as
it now does of Europe, never made any considerable progress in
the East. Those disciplined evolutions which harmonize and
animate a confused multitude, were unknown to the Persians. They
were equally unskilled in the arts of constructing, besieging, or
defending regular fortifications. They trusted more to their
numbers than to their courage; more to their courage than to
their discipline. The infantry was a half-armed, spiritless crowd
of peasants, levied in haste by the allurements of plunder, and
as easily dispersed by a victory as by a defeat. The monarch and
his nobles transported into the camp the pride and luxury of the
seraglio. Their military operations were impeded by a useless
train of women, eunuchs, horses, and camels; and in the midst of
a successful campaign, the Persian host was often separated or
destroyed by an unexpected famine.
But the nobles of Persia, in the bosom of luxury and
despotism, preserved a strong sense of personal gallantry and
national honor. From the age of seven years they were taught to
speak truth, to shoot with the bow, and to ride; and it was
universally confessed, that in the two last of these arts, they
had made a more than common proficiency. The most distinguished
youth were educated under the monarch's eye, practised their
exercises in the gate of his palace, and were severely trained up
to the habits of temperance and obedience, in their long and
laborious parties of hunting. In every province, the satrap
maintained a like school of military virtue. The Persian nobles
(so natural is the idea of feudal tenures) received from the
king's bounty lands and houses, on the condition of their service
in war. They were ready on the first summons to mount on
horseback, with a martial and splendid train of followers, and to
join the numerous bodies of guards, who were carefully selected
from among the most robust slaves, and the bravest adventures of
Asia. These armies, both of light and of heavy cavalry, equally
formidable by the impetuosity of their charge and the rapidity of
their motions, threatened, as an impending cloud, the eastern
provinces of the declining empire of Rome.
Chapter IX: State Of Germany Until The Barbarians.
Part I.
The State Of Germany Till The Invasion Of The Barbarians In
The Time Of The Emperor Decius.
The government and religion of Persia have deserved some
notice, from their connection with the decline and fall of the
Roman empire. We shall occasionally mention the Scythian or
Sarmatian tribes, * which, with their arms and horses, their
flocks and herds, their wives and families, wandered over the
immense plains which spread themselves from the Caspian Sea to
the Vistula, from the confines of Persia to those of Germany. But
the warlike Germans, who first resisted, then invaded, and at
length overturned the Western monarchy of Rome, will occupy a
much more important place in this history, and possess a
stronger, and, if we may use the expression, a more domestic,
claim to our attention and regard. The most civilized nations of
modern Europe issued from the woods of Germany; and in the rude
institutions of those barbarians we may still distinguish the
original principles of our present laws and manners. In their
primitive state of simplicity and independence, the Germans were
surveyed by the discerning eye, and delineated by the masterly
pencil, of Tacitus, the first of historians who applied the
science of philosophy to the study of facts. The expressive
conciseness of his descriptions has served to exercise the
diligence of innumerable antiquarians, and to excite the genius
and penetration of the philosophic historians of our own times.
The subject, however various and important, has already been so
frequently, so ably, and so successfully discussed, that it is
now grown familiar to the reader, and difficult to the writer. We
shall therefore content ourselves with observing, and indeed with
repeating, some of the most important circumstances of climate,
of manners, and of institutions, which rendered the wild
barbarians of Germany such formidable enemies to the Roman
power.
Ancient Germany, excluding from its independent limits the
province westward of the Rhine, which had submitted to the Roman
yoke, extended itself over a third part of Europe. Almost the
whole of modern Germany, Denmark, Norway, Sweden, Finland,
Livonia, Prussia, and the greater part of Poland, were peopled by
the various tribes of one great nation, whose complexion,
manners, and language denoted a common origin, and preserved a
striking resemblance. On the west, ancient Germany was divided by
the Rhine from the Gallic, and on the south, by the Danube, from
the Illyrian, provinces of the empire. A ridge of hills, rising
from the Danube, and called the Carpathian Mountains, covered
Germany on the side of Dacia or Hungary. The eastern frontier was
faintly marked by the mutual fears of the Germans and the
Sarmatians, and was often confounded by the mixture of warring
and confederating tribes of the two nations. In the remote
darkness of the north, the ancients imperfectly descried a frozen
ocean that lay beyond the Baltic Sea, and beyond the Peninsula,
or islands of Scandinavia.
Some ingenious writers have suspected that Europe was much
colder formerly than it is at present; and the most ancient
descriptions of the climate of Germany tend exceedingly to
confirm their theory. The general complaints of intense frost and
eternal winter, are perhaps little to be regarded, since we have
no method of reducing to the accurate standard of the
thermometer, the feelings, or the expressions, of an orator born
in the happier regions of Greece or Asia. But I shall select two
remarkable circumstances of a less equivocal nature. 1. The great
rivers which covered the Roman provinces, the Rhine and the
Danube, were frequently frozen over, and capable of supporting
the most enormous weights. The barbarians, who often chose that
severe season for their inroads, transported, without
apprehension or danger, their numerous armies, their cavalry, and
their heavy wagons, over a vast and solid bridge of ice. Modern
ages have not presented an instance of a like phenomenon. 2. The
reindeer, that useful animal, from whom the savage of the North
derives the best comforts of his dreary life, is of a
constitution that supports, and even requires, the most intense
cold. He is found on the rock of Spitzberg, within ten degrees of
the Pole; he seems to delight in the snows of Lapland and
Siberia: but at present he cannot subsist, much less multiply, in
any country to the south of the Baltic. In the time of
Cæsar the reindeer, as well as the elk and the wild bull,
was a native of the Hercynian forest, which then overshadowed a
great part of Germany and Poland. The modern improvements
sufficiently explain the causes of the diminution of the cold.
These immense woods have been gradually cleared, which
intercepted from the earth the rays of the sun. The morasses have
been drained, and, in proportion as the soil has been cultivated,
the air has become more temperate. Canada, at this day, is an
exact picture of ancient Germany. Although situated in the same
parallel with the finest provinces of France and England, that
country experiences the most rigorous cold. The reindeer are very
numerous, the ground is covered with deep and lasting snow, and
the great river of St. Lawrence is regularly frozen, in a season
when the waters of the Seine and the Thames are usually free from
ice.
It is difficult to ascertain, and easy to exaggerate, the
influence of the climate of ancient Germany over the minds and
bodies of the natives. Many writers have supposed, and most have
allowed, though, as it should seem, without any adequate proof,
that the rigorous cold of the North was favorable to long life
and generative vigor, that the women were more fruitful, and the
human species more prolific, than in warmer or more temperate
climates. We may assert, with greater confidence, that the keen
air of Germany formed the large and masculine limbs of the
natives, who were, in general, of a more lofty stature than the
people of the South, gave them a kind of strength better adapted
to violent exertions than to patient labor, and inspired them
with constitutional bravery, which is the result of nerves and
spirits. The severity of a winter campaign, that chilled the
courage of the Roman troops, was scarcely felt by these hardy
children of the North, who, in their turn, were unable to resist
the summer heats, and dissolved away in languor and sickness
under the beams of an Italian sun.
Chapter IX: State Of Germany Until The Barbarians.
-- Part II.
There is not any where upon the globe a large tract of
country, which we have discovered destitute of inhabitants, or
whose first population can be fixed with any degree of historical
certainty. And yet, as the most philosophic minds can seldom
refrain from investigating the infancy of great nations, our
curiosity consumes itself in toilsome and disappointed efforts.
When Tacitus considered the purity of the German blood, and the
forbidding aspect of the country, he was disposed to pronounce
those barbarians Indigen, or natives of the soil. We may
allow with safety, and perhaps with truth, that ancient Germany
was not originally peopled by any foreign colonies already formed
into a political society; but that the name and nation received
their existence from the gradual union of some wandering savages
of the Hercynian woods. To assert those savages to have been the
spontaneous production of the earth which they inhabited would be
a rash inference, condemned by religion, and unwarranted by
reason.
Such rational doubt is but ill suited with the genius of
popular vanity. Among the nations who have adopted the Mosaic
history of the world, the ark of Noah has been of the same use,
as was formerly to the Greeks and Romans the siege of Troy. On a
narrow basis of acknowledged truth, an immense but rude
superstructure of fable has been erected; and the wild Irishman,
as well as the wild Tartar, could point out the individual son of
Japhet, from whose loins his ancestors were lineally descended.
The last century abounded with antiquarians of profound learning
and easy faith, who, by the dim light of legends and traditions,
of conjectures and etymologies, conducted the great grandchildren
of Noah from the Tower of Babel to the extremities of the globe.
Of these judicious critics, one of the most entertaining was Oaus
Rudbeck, professor in the university of Upsal. Whatever is
celebrated either in history or fable, this zealous patriot
ascribes to his country. From Sweden (which formed so
considerable a part of ancient Germany) the Greeks themselves
derived their alphabetical characters, their astronomy, and their
religion. Of that delightful region (for such it appeared to the
eyes of a native) the Atlantis of Plato, the country of the
Hyperboreans, the gardens of the Hesperides, the Fortunate
Islands, and even the Elysian Fields, were all but faint and
imperfect transcripts. A clime so profusely favored by Nature
could not long remain desert after the flood. The learned Rudbeck
allows the family of Noah a few years to multiply from eight to
about twenty thousand persons. He then disperses them into small
colonies to replenish the earth, and to propagate the human
species. The German or Swedish detachment (which marched, if I am
not mistaken, under the command of Askenaz, the son of Gomer, the
son of Japhet) distinguished itself by a more than common
diligence in the prosecution of this great work. The northern
hive cast its swarms over the greatest part of Europe, Africa,
and Asia; and (to use the author's metaphor) the blood circulated
from the extremities to the heart.
But all this well-labored system of German antiquities is
annihilated by a single fact, too well attested to admit of any
doubt, and of too decisive a nature to leave room for any reply.
The Germans, in the age of Tacitus, were unacquainted with the
use of letters; and the use of letters is the principal
circumstance that distinguishes a civilized people from a herd of
savages incapable of knowledge or reflection. Without that
artificial help, the human memory soon dissipates or corrupts the
ideas intrusted to her charge; and the nobler faculties of the
mind, no longer supplied with models or with materials, gradually
forget their powers; the judgment becomes feeble and lethargic,
the imagination languid or irregular. Fully to apprehend this
important truth, let us attempt, in an improved society, to
calculate the immense distance between the man of learning and
the illiterate peasant. The former, by reading and
reflection, multiplies his own experience, and lives in distant
ages and remote countries; whilst the latter, rooted to a single
spot, and confined to a few years of existence, surpasses but
very little his fellow-laborer, the ox, in the exercise of his
mental faculties. The same, and even a greater, difference will
be found between nations than between individuals; and we may
safely pronounce, that without some species of writing, no people
has ever preserved the faithful annals of their history, ever
made any considerable progress in the abstract sciences, or ever
possessed, in any tolerable degree of perfection, the useful and
agreeable arts of life.
Of these arts, the ancient Germans were wretchedly destitute.
They passed their lives in a state of ignorance and poverty,
which it has pleased some declaimers to dignify with the
appellation of virtuous simplicity. * Modern Germany is said to
contain about two thousand three hundred walled towns. In a much
wider extent of country, the geographer Ptolemy could discover no
more than ninety places which he decorates with the name of
cities; though, according to our ideas, they would but ill
deserve that splendid title. We can only suppose them to have
been rude fortifications, constructed in the centre of the woods,
and designed to secure the women, children, and cattle, whilst
the warriors of the tribe marched out to repel a sudden invasion.
But Tacitus asserts, as a well-known fact, that the Germans, in
his time, had no cities; and that they affected to
despise the works of Roman industry, as places of confinement
rather than of security. Their edifices were not even contiguous,
or formed into regular villas; each barbarian fixed his
independent dwelling on the spot to which a plain, a wood, or a
stream of fresh water, had induced him to give the preference.
Neither stone, nor brick, nor tiles, were employed in these
slight habitations. They were indeed no more than low huts, of a
circular figure, built of rough timber, thatched with straw, and
pierced at the top to leave a free passage for the smoke. In the
most inclement winter, the hardy German was satisfied with a
scanty garment made of the skin of some animal. The nations who
dwelt towards the North clothed themselves in furs; and the women
manufactured for their own use a coarse kind of linen. The game
of various sorts, with which the forests of Germany were
plentifully stocked, supplied its inhabitants with food and
exercise. Their monstrous herds of cattle, less remarkable indeed
for their beauty than for their utility, formed the principal
object of their wealth. A small quantity of corn was the only
produce exacted from the earth; the use of orchards or artificial
meadows was unknown to the Germans; nor can we expect any
improvements in agriculture from a people, whose prosperity every
year experienced a general change by a new division of the arable
lands, and who, in that strange operation, avoided disputes, by
suffering a great part of their territory to lie waste and
without tillage.
Gold, silver, and iron, were extremely scarce in Germany. Its
barbarous inhabitants wanted both skill and patience to
investigate those rich veins of silver, which have so liberally
rewarded the attention of the princes of Brunswick and Saxony.
Sweden, which now supplies Europe with iron, was equally ignorant
of its own riches; and the appearance of the arms of the Germans
furnished a sufficient proof how little iron they were able to
bestow on what they must have deemed the noblest use of that
metal. The various transactions of peace and war had introduced
some Roman coins (chiefly silver) among the borderers of the
Rhine and Danube; but the more distant tribes were absolutely
unacquainted with the use of money, carried on their confined
traffic by the exchange of commodities, and prized their rude
earthen vessels as of equal value with the silver vases, the
presents of Rome to their princes and ambassadors. To a mind
capable of reflection, such leading facts convey more
instruction, than a tedious detail of subordinate circumstances.
The value of money has been settled by general consent to express
our wants and our property, as letters were invented to express
our ideas; and both these institutions, by giving a more active
energy to the powers and passions of human nature, have
contributed to multiply the objects they were designed to
represent. The use of gold and silver is in a great measure
factitious; but it would be impossible to enumerate the important
and various services which agriculture, and all the arts, have
received from iron, when tempered and fashioned by the operation
of fire, and the dexterous hand of man. Money, in a word, is the
most universal incitement, iron the most powerful instrument, of
human industry; and it is very difficult to conceive by what
means a people, neither actuated by the one, nor seconded by the
other, could emerge from the grossest barbarism.
If we contemplate a savage nation in any part of the globe, a
supine indolence and a carelessness of futurity will be found to
constitute their general character. In a civilized state, every
faculty of man is expanded and exercised; and the great chain of
mutual dependence connects and embraces the several members of
society. The most numerous portion of it is employed in constant
and useful labor. The select few, placed by fortune above that
necessity, can, however, fill up their time by the pursuits of
interest or glory, by the improvement of their estate or of their
understanding, by the duties, the pleasures, and even the follies
of social life. The Germans were not possessed of these varied
resources. The care of the house and family, the management of
the land and cattle, were delegated to the old and the infirm, to
women and slaves. The lazy warrior, destitute of every art that
might employ his leisure hours, consumed his days and nights in
the animal gratifications of sleep and food. And yet, by a
wonderful diversity of nature, (according to the remark of a
writer who had pierced into its darkest recesses,) the same
barbarians are by turns the most indolent and the most restless
of mankind. They delight in sloth, they detest tranquility. The
languid soul, oppressed with its own weight, anxiously required
some new and powerful sensation; and war and danger were the only
amusements adequate to its fierce temper. The sound that summoned
the German to arms was grateful to his ear. It roused him from
his uncomfortable lethargy, gave him an active pursuit, and, by
strong exercise of the body, and violent emotions of the mind,
restored him to a more lively sense of his existence. In the dull
intervals of peace, these barbarians were immoderately addicted
to deep gaming and excessive drinking; both of which, by
different means, the one by inflaming their passions, the other
by extinguishing their reason, alike relieved them from the pain
of thinking. They gloried in passing whole days and nights at
table; and the blood of friends and relations often stained their
numerous and drunken assemblies. Their debts of honor (for in
that light they have transmitted to us those of play) they
discharged with the most romantic fidelity. The desperate
gamester, who had staked his person and liberty on a last throw
of the dice, patiently submitted to the decision of fortune, and
suffered himself to be bound, chastised, and sold into remote
slavery, by his weaker but more lucky antagonist.
Strong beer, a liquor extracted with very little art from
wheat or barley, and corrupted (as it is strongly
expressed by Tacitus) into a certain semblance of wine, was
sufficient for the gross purposes of German debauchery. But those
who had tasted the rich wines of Italy, and afterwards of Gaul,
sighed for that more delicious species of intoxication. They
attempted not, however, (as has since been executed with so much
success,) to naturalize the vine on the banks of the Rhine and
Danube; nor did they endeavor to procure by industry the
materials of an advantageous commerce. To solicit by labor what
might be ravished by arms, was esteemed unworthy of the German
spirit. The intemperate thirst of strong liquors often urged the
barbarians to invade the provinces on which art or nature had
bestowed those much envied presents. The Tuscan who betrayed his
country to the Celtic nations, attracted them into Italy by the
prospect of the rich fruits and delicious wines, the productions
of a happier climate. And in the same manner the German
auxiliaries, invited into France during the civil wars of the
sixteenth century, were allured by the promise of plenteous
quarters in the provinces of Champaigne and Burgundy.
Drunkenness, the most illiberal, but not the most dangerous of
our vices, was sometimes capable, in a less civilized
state of mankind, of occasioning a battle, a war, or a
revolution.
The climate of ancient Germany has been modified, and the soil
fertilized, by the labor of ten centuries from the time of
Charlemagne. The same extent of ground which at present
maintains, in ease and plenty, a million of husbandmen and
artificers, was unable to supply a hundred thousand lazy warriors
with the simple necessaries of life. The Germans abandoned their
immense forests to the exercise of hunting, employed in pasturage
the most considerable part of their lands, bestowed on the small
remainder a rude and careless cultivation, and then accused the
scantiness and sterility of a country that refused to maintain
the multitude of its inhabitants. When the return of famine
severely admonished them of the importance of the arts, the
national distress was sometimes alleviated by the emigration of a
third, perhaps, or a fourth part of their youth. The possession
and the enjoyment of property are the pledges which bind a
civilized people to an improved country. But the Germans, who
carried with them what they most valued, their arms, their
cattle, and their women, cheerfully abandoned the vast silence of
their woods for the unbounded hopes of plunder and conquest. The
innumerable swarms that issued, or seemed to issue, from the
great storehouse of nations, were multiplied by the fears of the
vanquished, and by the credulity of succeeding ages. And from
facts thus exaggerated, an opinion was gradually established, and
has been supported by writers of distinguished reputation, that,
in the age of Cæsar and Tacitus, the inhabitants of the
North were far more numerous than they are in our days. A more
serious inquiry into the causes of population seems to have
convinced modern philosophers of the falsehood, and indeed the
impossibility, of the supposition. To the names of Mariana and of
Machiavel, we can oppose the equal names of Robertson and
Hume.
A warlike nation like the Germans, without either cities,
letters, arts, or money, found some compensation for this savage
state in the enjoyment of liberty. Their poverty secured their
freedom, since our desires and our possessions are the strongest
fetters of despotism. "Among the Suiones (says Tacitus) riches
are held in honor. They are therefore subject to an
absolute monarch, who, instead of intrusting his people with the
free use of arms, as is practised in the rest of Germany, commits
them to the safe custody, not of a citizen, or even of a
freedman, but of a slave. The neighbors of the Suiones, the
Sitones, are sunk even below servitude; they obey a woman." In
the mention of these exceptions, the great historian sufficiently
acknowledges the general theory of government. We are only at a
loss to conceive by what means riches and despotism could
penetrate into a remote corner of the North, and extinguish the
generous flame that blazed with such fierceness on the frontier
of the Roman provinces, or how the ancestors of those Danes and
Norwegians, so distinguished in latter ages by their unconquered
spirit, could thus tamely resign the great character of German
liberty. Some tribes, however, on the coast of the Baltic,
acknowledged the authority of kings, though without relinquishing
the rights of men, but in the far greater part of Germany, the
form of government was a democracy, tempered, indeed, and
controlled, not so much by general and positive laws, as by the
occasional ascendant of birth or valor, of eloquence or
superstition.
Civil governments, in their first institution, are voluntary
associations for mutual defence. To obtain the desired end, it is
absolutely necessary that each individual should conceive himself
obliged to submit his private opinions and actions to the
judgment of the greater number of his associates. The German
tribes were contented with this rude but liberal outline of
political society. As soon as a youth, born of free parents, had
attained the age of manhood, he was introduced into the general
council of his countrymen, solemnly invested with a shield and
spear, and adopted as an equal and worthy member of the military
commonwealth. The assembly of the warriors of the tribe was
convened at stated seasons, or on sudden emergencies. The trial
of public offences, the election of magistrates, and the great
business of peace and war, were determined by its independent
voice. Sometimes indeed, these important questions were
previously considered and prepared in a more select council of
the principal chieftains. The magistrates might deliberate and
persuade, the people only could resolve and execute; and the
resolutions of the Germans were for the most part hasty and
violent. Barbarians accustomed to place their freedom in
gratifying the present passion, and their courage in overlooking
all future consequences, turned away with indignant contempt from
the remonstrances of justice and policy, and it was the practice
to signify by a hollow murmur their dislike of such timid
counsels. But whenever a more popular orator proposed to
vindicate the meanest citizen from either foreign or domestic
injury, whenever he called upon his fellow-countrymen to assert
the national honor, or to pursue some enterprise full of danger
and glory, a loud clashing of shields and spears expressed the
eager applause of the assembly. For the Germans always met in
arms, and it was constantly to be dreaded, lest an irregular
multitude, inflamed with faction and strong liquors, should use
those arms to enforce, as well as to declare, their furious
resolves. We may recollect how often the diets of Poland have
been polluted with blood, and the more numerous party has been
compelled to yield to the more violent and seditious.
A general of the tribe was elected on occasions of danger;
and, if the danger was pressing and extensive, several tribes
concurred in the choice of the same general. The bravest warrior
was named to lead his countrymen into the field, by his example
rather than by his commands. But this power, however limited, was
still invidious. It expired with the war, and in time of peace
the German tribes acknowledged not any supreme chief. Princes
were, however, appointed, in the general assembly, to administer
justice, or rather to compose differences, in their respective
districts. In the choice of these magistrates, as much regard was
shown to birth as to merit. To each was assigned, by the public,
a guard, and a council of a hundred persons, and the first of the
princes appears to have enjoyed a preeminence of rank and honor
which sometimes tempted the Romans to compliment him with the
regal title.
The comparative view of the powers of the magistrates, in two
remarkable instances, is alone sufficient to represent the whole
system of German manners. The disposal of the landed property
within their district was absolutely vested in their hands, and
they distributed it every year according to a new division. At
the same time they were not authorized to punish with death, to
imprison, or even to strike a private citizen. A people thus
jealous of their persons, and careless of their possessions, must
have been totally destitute of industry and the arts, but
animated with a high sense of honor and independence.
Chapter IX: State Of Germany Until The Barbarians.
-- Part III.
The Germans respected only those duties which they imposed on
themselves. The most obscure soldier resisted with disdain the
authority of the magistrates. "The noblest youths blushed not to
be numbered among the faithful companions of some renowned chief,
to whom they devoted their arms and service. A noble emulation
prevailed among the companions, to obtain the first place in the
esteem of their chief; amongst the chiefs, to acquire the
greatest number of valiant companions. To be ever surrounded by a
band of select youths was the pride and strength of the chiefs,
their ornament in peace, their defence in war. The glory of such
distinguished heroes diffused itself beyond the narrow limits of
their own tribe. Presents and embassies solicited their
friendship, and the fame of their arms often insured victory to
the party which they espoused. In the hour of danger it was
shameful for the chief to be surpassed in valor by his
companions; shameful for the companions not to equal the valor of
their chief. To survive his fall in battle, was indelible infamy.
To protect his person, and to adorn his glory with the trophies
of their own exploits, were the most sacred of their duties. The
chiefs combated for victory, the companions for the chief. The
noblest warriors, whenever their native country was sunk into the
laziness of peace, maintained their numerous bands in some
distant scene of action, to exercise their restless spirit, and
to acquire renown by voluntary dangers. Gifts worthy of soldiers
-- the warlike steed, the bloody and even victorious lance --
were the rewards which the companions claimed from the liberality
of their chief. The rude plenty of his hospitable board was the
only pay that hecould bestow, or they would
accept. War, rapine, and the free-will offerings of his friends,
supplied the materials of this munificence. This institution,
however it might accidentally weaken the several republics,
invigorated the general character of the Germans, and even
ripened amongst them all the virtues of which barbarians are
susceptible; the faith and valor, the hospitality and the
courtesy, so conspicuous long afterwards in the ages of chivalry.
The honorable gifts, bestowed by the chief on his brave
companions, have been supposed, by an ingenious writer, to
contain the first rudiments of the fiefs, distributed after the
conquest of the Roman provinces, by the barbarian lords among
their vassals, with a similar duty of homage and military
service. These conditions are, however, very repugnant to the
maxims of the ancient Germans, who delighted in mutual presents;
but without either imposing, or accepting, the weight of
obligations.
"In the days of chivalry, or more properly of romance, all the
men were brave, and all the women were chaste;" and
notwithstanding the latter of these virtues is acquired and
preserved with much more difficulty than the former, it is
ascribed, almost without exception, to the wives of the ancient
Germans. Polygamy was not in use, except among the princes, and
among them only for the sake of multiplying their alliances.
Divorces were prohibited by manners rather than by laws.
Adulteries were punished as rare and inexpiable crimes; nor was
seduction justified by example and fashion. We may easily
discover that Tacitus indulges an honest pleasure in the contrast
of barbarian virtue with the dissolute conduct of the Roman
ladies; yet there are some striking circumstances that give an
air of truth, or at least probability, to the conjugal faith and
chastity of the Germans.
Although the progress of civilization has undoubtedly
contributed to assuage the fiercer passions of human nature, it
seems to have been less favorable to the virtue of chastity,
whose most dangerous enemy is the softness of the mind. The
refinements of life corrupt while they polish the intercourse of
the sexes. The gross appetite of love becomes most dangerous when
it is elevated, or rather, indeed, disguised by sentimental
passion. The elegance of dress, of motion, and of manners, gives
a lustre to beauty, and inflames the senses through the
imagination. Luxurious entertainments, midnight dances, and
licentious spectacles, present at once temptation and opportunity
to female frailty. From such dangers the unpolished wives of the
barbarians were secured by poverty, solitude, and the painful
cares of a domestic life. The German huts, open, on every side,
to the eye of indiscretion or jealousy, were a better safeguard
of conjugal fidelity, than the walls, the bolts, and the eunuchs
of a Persian haram. To this reason another may be added, of a
more honorable nature. The Germans treated their women with
esteem and confidence, consulted them on every occasion of
importance, and fondly believed, that in their breasts resided a
sanctity and wisdom more than human. Some of the interpreters of
fate, such as Velleda, in the Batavian war, governed, in the name
of the deity, the fiercest nations of Germany. The rest of the
sex, without being adored as goddesses, were respected as the
free and equal companions of soldiers; associated even by the
marriage ceremony to a life of toil, of danger, and of glory. In
their great invasions, the camps of the barbarians were filled
with a multitude of women, who remained firm and undaunted amidst
the sound of arms, the various forms of destruction, and the
honorable wounds of their sons and husbands. Fainting armies of
Germans have, more than once, been driven back upon the enemy, by
the generous despair of the women, who dreaded death much less
than servitude. If the day was irrecoverably lost, they well knew
how to deliver themselves and their children, with their own
hands, from an insulting victor. Heroines of such a cast may
claim our admiration; but they were most assuredly neither
lovely, nor very susceptible of love. Whilst they affected to
emulate the stern virtues of man, they must have
resigned that attractive softness, in which principally consist
the charm and weakness of woman. Conscious pride taught
the German females to suppress every tender emotion that stood in
competition with honor, and the first honor of the sex has ever
been that of chastity. The sentiments and conduct of these
high-spirited matrons may, at once, be considered as a cause, as
an effect, and as a proof of the general character of the nation.
Female courage, however it may be raised by fanaticism, or
confirmed by habit, can be only a faint and imperfect imitation
of the manly valor that distinguishes the age or country in which
it may be found.
The religious system of the Germans (if the wild opinions of
savages can deserve that name) was dictated by their wants, their
fears, and their ignorance. They adored the great visible objects
and agents of nature, the Sun and the Moon, the Fire and the
Earth; together with those imaginary deities, who were supposed
to preside over the most important occupations of human life.
They were persuaded, that, by some ridiculous arts of divination,
they could discover the will of the superior beings, and that
human sacrifices were the most precious and acceptable offering
to their altars. Some applause has been hastily bestowed on the
sublime notion, entertained by that people, of the Deity, whom
they neither confined within the walls of the temple, nor
represented by any human figure; but when we recollect, that the
Germans were unskilled in architecture, and totally unacquainted
with the art of sculpture, we shall readily assign the true
reason of a scruple, which arose not so much from a superiority
of reason, as from a want of ingenuity. The only temples in
Germany were dark and ancient groves, consecrated by the
reverence of succeeding generations. Their secret gloom, the
imagined residence of an invisible power, by presenting no
distinct object of fear or worship, impressed the mind with a
still deeper sense of religious horror; and the priests, rude and
illiterate as they were, had been taught by experience the use of
every artifice that could preserve and fortify impressions so
well suited to their own interest.
The same ignorance, which renders barbarians incapable of
conceiving or embracing the useful restraints of laws, exposes
them naked and unarmed to the blind terrors of superstition. The
German priests, improving this favorable temper of their
countrymen, had assumed a jurisdiction even in temporal concerns,
which the magistrate could not venture to exercise; and the
haughty warrior patiently submitted to the lash of correction,
when it was inflicted, not by any human power, but by the
immediate order of the god of war. The defects of civil policy
were sometimes supplied by the interposition of ecclesiastical
authority. The latter was constantly exerted to maintain silence
and decency in the popular assemblies; and was sometimes extended
to a more enlarged concern for the national welfare. A solemn
procession was occasionally celebrated in the present countries
of Mecklenburgh and Pomerania. The unknown symbol of the
Earth, covered with a thick veil, was placed on a
carriage drawn by cows; and in this manner the goddess, whose
common residence was in the Isles of Rugen, visited several
adjacent tribes of her worshippers. During her progress the sound
of war was hushed, quarrels were suspended, arms laid aside, and
the restless Germans had an opportunity of tasting the blessings
of peace and harmony. The truce of God, so often and so
ineffectually proclaimed by the clergy of the eleventh century,
was an obvious imitation of this ancient custom.
But the influence of religion was far more powerful to
inflame, than to moderate, the fierce passions of the Germans.
Interest and fanaticism often prompted its ministers to sanctify
the most daring and the most unjust enterprises, by the
approbation of Heaven, and full assurances of success. The
consecrated standards, long revered in the groves of
superstition, were placed in the front of the battle; and the
hostile army was devoted with dire execrations to the gods of war
and of thunder. In the faith of soldiers (and such were the
Germans) cowardice is the most unpardonable of sins. A brave man
was the worthy favorite of their martial deities; the wretch who
had lost his shield was alike banished from the religious and
civil assemblies of his countrymen. Some tribes of the north seem
to have embraced the doctrine of transmigration, others imagined
a gross paradise of immortal drunkenness. All agreed, that a life
spent in arms, and a glorious death in battle, were the best
preparations for a happy futurity, either in this or in another
world.
The immortality so vainly promised by the priests, was, in
some degree, conferred by the bards. That singular order of men
has most deservedly attracted the notice of all who have
attempted to investigate the antiquities of the Celts, the
Scandinavians, and the Germans. Their genius and character, as
well as the reverence paid to that important office, have been
sufficiently illustrated. But we cannot so easily express, or
even conceive, the enthusiasm of arms and glory which they
kindled in the breast of their audience. Among a polished people,
a taste for poetry is rather an amusement of the fancy, than a
passion of the soul. And yet, when in calm retirement we peruse
the combats described by Homer or Tasso, we are insensibly
seduced by the fiction, and feel a momentary glow of martial
ardor. But how faint, how cold is the sensation which a peaceful
mind can receive from solitary study! It was in the hour of
battle, or in the feast of victory, that the bards celebrated the
glory of the heroes of ancient days, the ancestors of those
warlike chieftains, who listened with transport to their artless
but animated strains. The view of arms and of danger heightened
the effect of the military song; and the passions which it tended
to excite, the desire of fame, and the contempt of death, were
the habitual sentiments of a German mind. *
Such was the situation, and such were the manners of the
ancient Germans. Their climate, their want of learning, of arts,
and of laws, their notions of honor, of gallantry, and of
religion, their sense of freedom, impatience of peace, and thirst
of enterprise, all contributed to form a people of military
heroes. And yet we find, that during more than two hundred and
fifty years that elapsed from the defeat of Varus to the reign of
Decius, these formidable barbarians made few considerable
attempts, and not any material impression on the luxurious and
enslaved provinces of the empire. Their progress was checked by
their want of arms and discipline, and their fury was diverted by
the intestine divisions of ancient Germany.
I. It has been observed, with ingenuity, and not without
truth, that the command of iron soon gives a nation the command
of gold. But the rude tribes of Germany, alike destitute of both
those valuable metals, were reduced slowly to acquire, by their
unassisted strength, the possession of the one as well as the
other. The face of a German army displayed their poverty of iron.
Swords, and the longer kind of lances, they could seldom use.
Their frame (as they called them in their own language) were long
spears headed with a sharp but narrow iron point, and which, as
occasion required, they either darted from a distance, or pushed
in close onset. With this spear, and with a shield, their cavalry
was contented. A multitude of darts, scattered with incredible
force, were an additional resource of the infantry. Their
military dress, when they wore any, was nothing more than a loose
mantle. A variety of colors was the only ornament of their wooden
or osier shields. Few of the chiefs were distinguished by
cuirasses, scarcely any by helmets. Though the horses of Germany
were neither beautiful, swift, nor practised in the skilful
evolutions of the Roman manege, several of the nations obtained
renown by their cavalry; but, in general, the principal strength
of the Germans consisted in their infantry, which was drawn up in
several deep columns, according to the distinction of tribes and
families. Impatient of fatigue and delay, these half-armed
warriors rushed to battle with dissonant shouts and disordered
ranks; and sometimes, by the effort of native valor, prevailed
over the constrained and more artificial bravery of the Roman
mercenaries. But as the barbarians poured forth their whole souls
on the first onset, they knew not how to rally or to retire. A
repulse was a sure defeat; and a defeat was most commonly total
destruction. When we recollect the complete armor of the Roman
soldiers, their discipline, exercises, evolutions, fortified
camps, and military engines, it appears a just matter of
surprise, how the naked and unassisted valor of the barbarians
could dare to encounter, in the field, the strength of the
legions, and the various troops of the auxiliaries, which
seconded their operations. The contest was too unequal, till the
introduction of luxury had enervated the vigor, and a spirit of
disobedience and sedition had relaxed the discipline, of the
Roman armies. The introduction of barbarian auxiliaries into
those armies, was a measure attended with very obvious dangers,
as it might gradually instruct the Germans in the arts of war and
of policy. Although they were admitted in small numbers and with
the strictest precaution, the example of Civilis was proper to
convince the Romans, that the danger was not imaginary, and that
their precautions were not always sufficient. During the civil
wars that followed the death of Nero, that artful and intrepid
Batavian, whom his enemies condescended to compare with Hannibal
and Sertorius, formed a great design of freedom and ambition.
Eight Batavian cohorts renowned in the wars of Britain and Italy,
repaired to his standard. He introduced an army of Germans into
Gaul, prevailed on the powerful cities of Treves and Langres to
embrace his cause, defeated the legions, destroyed their
fortified camps, and employed against the Romans the military
knowledge which he had acquired in their service. When at length,
after an obstinate struggle, he yielded to the power of the
empire, Civilis secured himself and his country by an honorable
treaty. The Batavians still continued to occupy the islands of
the Rhine, the allies, not the servants, of the Roman
monarchy.
II. The strength of ancient Germany appears formidable, when
we consider the effects that might have been produced by its
united effort. The wide extent of country might very possibly
contain a million of warriors, as all who were of age to bear
arms were of a temper to use them. But this fierce multitude,
incapable of concerting or executing any plan of national
greatness, was agitated by various and often hostile intentions.
Germany was divided into more than forty independent states; and,
even in each state, the union of the several tribes was extremely
loose and precarious. The barbarians were easily provoked; they
knew not how to forgive an injury, much less an insult; their
resentments were bloody and implacable. The casual disputes that
so frequently happened in their tumultuous parties of hunting or
drinking, were sufficient to inflame the minds of whole nations;
the private feuds of any considerable chieftains diffused itself
among their followers and allies. To chastise the insolent, or to
plunder the defenceless, were alike causes of war. The most
formidable states of Germany affected to encompass their
territories with a wide frontier of solitude and devastation. The
awful distance preserved by their neighbors attested the terror
of their arms, and in some measure defended them from the danger
of unexpected incursions.
"The Bructeri * (it is Tacitus who now speaks) were totally
exterminated by the neighboring tribes, provoked by their
insolence, allured by the hopes of spoil, and perhaps inspired by
the tutelar deities of the empire. Above sixty thousand
barbarians were destroyed; not by the Roman arms, but in our
sight, and for our entertainment. May the nations, enemies of
Rome, ever preserve this enmity to each other! We have now
attained the utmost verge of prosperity, and have nothing left to
demand of fortune, except the discord of the barbarians." --
These sentiments, less worthy of the humanity than of the
patriotism of Tacitus, express the invariable maxims of the
policy of his countrymen. They deemed it a much safer expedient
to divide than to combat the barbarians, from whose defeat they
could derive neither honor nor advantage. The money and
negotiations of Rome insinuated themselves into the heart of
Germany; and every art of seduction was used with dignity, to
conciliate those nations whom their proximity to the Rhine or
Danube might render the most useful friends as well as the most
troublesome enemies. Chiefs of renown and power were flattered by
the most trifling presents, which they received either as marks
of distinction, or as the instruments of luxury. In civil
dissensions the weaker faction endeavored to strengthen its
interest by entering into secret connections with the governors
of the frontier provinces. Every quarrel among the Germans was
fomented by the intrigues of Rome; and every plan of union and
public good was defeated by the stronger bias of private jealousy
and interest.
The general conspiracy which terrified the Romans under the
reign of Marcus Antoninus, comprehended almost all the nations of
Germany, and even Sarmatia, from the mouth of the Rhine to that
of the Danube. It is impossible for us to determine whether this
hasty confederation was formed by necessity, by reason, or by
passion; but we may rest assured, that the barbarians were
neither allured by the indolence, nor provoked by the ambition,
of the Roman monarch. This dangerous invasion required all the
firmness and vigilance of Marcus. He fixed generals of ability in
the several stations of attack, and assumed in person the conduct
of the most important province on the Upper Danube. After a long
and doubtful conflict, the spirit of the barbarians was subdued.
The Quadi and the Marcomanni, who had taken the lead in the war,
were the most severely punished in its catastrophe. They were
commanded to retire five miles from their own banks of the
Danube, and to deliver up the flower of the youth, who were
immediately sent into Britain, a remote island, where they might
be secure as hostages, and useful as soldiers. On the frequent
rebellions of the Quadi and Marcomanni, the irritated emperor
resolved to reduce their country into the form of a province. His
designs were disappointed by death. This formidable league,
however, the only one that appears in the two first centuries of
the Imperial history, was entirely dissipated, without leaving
any traces behind in Germany.
In the course of this introductory chapter, we have confined
ourselves to the general outlines of the manners of Germany,
without attempting to describe or to distinguish the various
tribes which filled that great country in the time of
Cæsar, of Tacitus, or of Ptolemy. As the ancient, or as new
tribes successively present themselves in the series of this
history, we shall concisely mention their origin, their
situation, and their particular character. Modern nations are
fixed and permanent societies, connected among themselves by laws
and government, bound to their native soil by arts and
agriculture. The German tribes were voluntary and fluctuating
associations of soldiers, almost of savages. The same territory
often changed its inhabitants in the tide of conquest and
emigration. The same communities, uniting in a plan of defence or
invasion, bestowed a new title on their new confederacy. The
dissolution of an ancient confederacy restored to the independent
tribes their peculiar but long-forgotten appellation. A
victorious state often communicated its own name to a vanquished
people. Sometimes crowds of volunteers flocked from all parts to
the standard of a favorite leader; his camp became their country,
and some circumstance of the enterprise soon gave a common
denomination to the mixed multitude. The distinctions of the
ferocious invaders were perpetually varied by themselves, and
confounded by the astonished subjects of the Roman empire.
Wars, and the administration of public affairs, are the
principal subjects of history; but the number of persons
interested in these busy scenes is very different, according to
the different condition of mankind. In great monarchies, millions
of obedient subjects pursue their useful occupations in peace and
obscurity. The attention of the writer, as well as of the reader,
is solely confined to a court, a capital, a regular army, and the
districts which happen to be the occasional scene of military
operations. But a state of freedom and barbarism, the season of
civil commotions, or the situation of petty republics, raises
almost every member of the community into action, and
consequently into notice. The irregular divisions, and the
restless motions, of the people of Germany, dazzle our
imagination, and seem to multiply their numbers. The profuse
enumeration of kings, of warriors, of armies and nations,
inclines us to forget that the same objects are continually
repeated under a variety of appellations, and that the most
splendid appellations have been frequently lavished on the most
inconsiderable objects.
Chapter X: Emperors Decius, Gallus, Æmilianus, Valerian And Gallienus.
Part I.
The Emperors Decius, Gallus, Æmilianus, Valerian, And
Gallienus. -- The General Irruption Of The Barbari Ans. -- The
Thirty Tyrants.
From the great secular games celebrated by Philip, to the
death of the emperor Gallienus, there elapsed twenty years of
shame and misfortune. During that calamitous period, every
instant of time was marked, every province of the Roman world was
afflicted, by barbarous invaders, and military tyrants, and the
ruined empire seemed to approach the last and fatal moment of its
dissolution. The confusion of the times, and the scarcity of
authentic memorials, oppose equal difficulties to the historian,
who attempts to preserve a clear and unbroken thread of
narration. Surrounded with imperfect fragments, always concise,
often obscure, and sometimes contradictory, he is reduced to
collect, to compare, and to conjecture: and though he ought never
to place his conjectures in the rank of facts, yet the knowledge
of human nature, and of the sure operation of its fierce and
unrestrained passions, might, on some occasions, supply the want
of historical materials.
There is not, for instance, any difficulty in conceiving, that
the successive murders of so many emperors had loosened all the
ties of allegiance between the prince and people; that all the
generals of Philip were disposed to imitate the example of their
master; and that the caprice of armies, long since habituated to
frequent and violent revolutions, might every day raise to the
throne the most obscure of their fellow-soldiers. History can
only add, that the rebellion against the emperor Philip broke out
in the summer of the year two hundred and forty-nine, among the
legions of Mæsia; and that a subaltern officer, named
Marinus, was the object of their seditious choice. Philip was
alarmed. He dreaded lest the treason of the Mæsian army
should prove the first spark of a general conflagration.
Distracted with the consciousness of his guilt and of his danger,
he communicated the intelligence to the senate. A gloomy silence
prevailed, the effect of fear, and perhaps of disaffection; till
at length Decius, one of the assembly, assuming a spirit worthy
of his noble extraction, ventured to discover more intrepidity
than the emperor seemed to possess. He treated the whole business
with contempt, as a hasty and inconsiderate tumult, and Philip's
rival as a phantom of royalty, who in a very few days would be
destroyed by the same inconstancy that had created him. The
speedy completion of the prophecy inspired Philip with a just
esteem for so able a counsellor; and Decius appeared to him the
only person capable of restoring peace and discipline to an army
whose tumultuous spirit did not immediately subside after the
murder of Marinus. Decius, who long resisted his own nomination,
seems to have insinuated the danger of presenting a leader of
merit to the angry and apprehensive minds of the soldiers; and
his prediction was again confirmed by the event. The legions of
Mæsia forced their judge to become their accomplice. They
left him only the alternative of death or the purple. His
subsequent conduct, after that decisive measure, was unavoidable.
He conducted, or followed, his army to the confines of Italy,
whither Philip, collecting all his force to repel the formidable
competitor whom he had raised up, advanced to meet him. The
Imperial troops were superior in number; but the rebels formed an
army of veterans, commanded by an able and experienced leader.
Philip was either killed in the battle, or put to death a few
days afterwards at Verona. His son and associate in the empire
was massacred at Rome by the Prætorian guards; and the
victorious Decius, with more favorable circumstances than the
ambition of that age can usually plead, was universally
acknowledged by the senate and provinces. It is reported, that,
immediately after his reluctant acceptance of the title of
Augustus, he had assured Philip, by a private message, of his
innocence and loyalty, solemnly protesting, that, on his arrival
on Italy, he would resign the Imperial ornaments, and return to
the condition of an obedient subject. His professions might be
sincere; but in the situation where fortune had placed him, it
was scarcely possible that he could either forgive or be
forgiven.
The emperor Decius had employed a few months in the works of
peace and the administration of justice, when he was summoned to
the banks of the Danube by the invasion of the Goths. This is the
first considerable occasion in which history mentions that great
people, who afterwards broke the Roman power, sacked the Capitol,
and reigned in Gaul, Spain, and Italy. So memorable was the part
which they acted in the subversion of the Western empire, that
the name of Goths is frequently but improperly used as a general
appellation of rude and warlike barbarism.
In the beginning of the sixth century, and after the conquest
of Italy, the Goths, in possession of present greatness, very
naturally indulged themselves in the prospect of past and of
future glory. They wished to preserve the memory of their
ancestors, and to transmit to posterity their own
achievements.
The principal minister of the court of Ravenna, the learned
Cassiodorus, gratified the inclination of the conquerors in a
Gothic history, which consisted of twelve books, now reduced to
the imperfect abridgment of Jornandes. These writers passed with
the most artful conciseness over the misfortunes of the nation,
celebrated its successful valor, and adorned the triumph with
many Asiatic trophies, that more properly belonged to the people
of Scythia. On the faith of ancient songs, the uncertain, but the
only memorials of barbarians, they deduced the first origin of
the Goths from the vast island, or peninsula, of Scandinavia. *
That extreme country of the North was not unknown to the
conquerors of Italy: the ties of ancient consanguinity had been
strengthened by recent offices of friendship; and a Scandinavian
king had cheerfully abdicated his savage greatness, that he might
pass the remainder of his days in the peaceful and polished court
of Ravenna. Many vestiges, which cannot be ascribed to the arts
of popular vanity, attest the ancient residence of the Goths in
the countries beyond the Rhine. From the time of the geographer
Ptolemy, the southern part of Sweden seems to have continued in
the possession of the less enterprising remnant of the nation,
and a large territory is even at present divided into east and
west Gothland. During the middle ages, (from the ninth to the
twelfth century,) whilst Christianity was advancing with a slow
progress into the North, the Goths and the Swedes composed two
distinct and sometimes hostile members of the same monarchy. The
latter of these two names has prevailed without extinguishing the
former. The Swedes, who might well be satisfied with their own
fame in arms, have, in every age, claimed the kindred glory of
the Goths. In a moment of discontent against the court of Rome,
Charles the Twelfth insinuated, that his victorious troops were
not degenerated from their brave ancestors, who had already
subdued the mistress of the world.
Till the end of the eleventh century, a celebrated temple
subsisted at Upsal, the most considerable town of the Swedes and
Goths. It was enriched with the gold which the Scandinavians had
acquired in their piratical adventures, and sanctified by the
uncouth representations of the three principal deities, the god
of war, the goddess of generation, and the god of thunder. In the
general festival, that was solemnized every ninth year, nine
animals of every species (without excepting the human) were
sacrificed, and their bleeding bodies suspended in the sacred
grove adjacent to the temple. The only traces that now subsist of
this barbaric superstition are contained in the Edda, * a system
of mythology, compiled in Iceland about the thirteenth century,
and studied by the learned of Denmark and Sweden, as the most
valuable remains of their ancient traditions.
Notwithstanding the mysterious obscurity of the Edda, we can
easily distinguish two persons confounded under the name of Odin;
the god of war, and the great legislator of Scandinavia. The
latter, the Mahomet of the North, instituted a religion adapted
to the climate and to the people. Numerous tribes on either side
of the Baltic were subdued by the invincible valor of Odin, by
his persuasive eloquence, and by the fame which he acquired of a
most skilful magician. The faith that he had propagated, during a
long and prosperous life, he confirmed by a voluntary death.
Apprehensive of the ignominious approach of disease and
infirmity, he resolved to expire as became a warrior. In a solemn
assembly of the Swedes and Goths, he wounded himself in nine
mortal places, hastening away (as he asserted with his dying
voice) to prepare the feast of heroes in the palace of the God of
war.
The native and proper habitation of Odin is distinguished by
the appellation of As-gard. The happy resemblance of that name
with As-burg, or As-of, words of a similar signification, has
given rise to an historical system of so pleasing a contexture,
that we could almost wish to persuade ourselves of its truth. It
is supposed that Odin was the chief of a tribe of barbarians
which dwelt on the banks of the Lake Mæotis, till the fall
of Mithridates and the arms of Pompey menaced the North with
servitude. That Odin, yielding with indignant fury to a power
which he was unable to resist, conducted his tribe from the
frontiers of the Asiatic Sarmatia into Sweden, with the great
design of forming, in that inaccessible retreat of freedom, a
religion and a people, which, in some remote age, might be
subservient to his immortal revenge; when his invincible Goths,
armed with martial fanaticism, should issue in numerous swarms
from the neighborhood of the Polar circle, to chastise the
oppressors of mankind.
If so many successive generations of Goths were capable of
preserving a faint tradition of their Scandinavian origin, we
must not expect, from such unlettered barbarians, any distinct
account of the time and circumstances of their emigration. To
cross the Baltic was an easy and natural attempt. The inhabitants
of Sweden were masters of a sufficient number of large vessels,
with oars, and the distance is little more than one hundred miles
from Carlscroon to the nearest ports of Pomerania and Prussia.
Here, at length, we land on firm and historic ground. At least as
early as the Christian æra, and as late as the age of the
Antonines, the Goths were established towards the mouth of the
Vistula, and in that fertile province where the commercial cities
of Thorn, Elbing, Koningsberg, and Dantzick, were long afterwards
founded. Westward of the Goths, the numerous tribes of the
Vandals were spread along the banks of the Oder, and the
sea-coast of Pomerania and Mecklenburgh. A striking resemblance
of manners, complexion, religion, and language, seemed to
indicate that the Vandals and the Goths were originally one great
people. The latter appear to have been subdivided into
Ostrogoths, Visigoths, and Gepidæ. The distinction among
the Vandals was more strongly marked by the independent names of
Heruli, Burgundians, Lombards, and a variety of other petty
states, many of which, in a future age, expanded themselves into
powerful monarchies.
In the age of the Antonines, the Goths were still seated in
Prussia. About the reign of Alexander Severus, the Roman province
of Dacia had already experienced their proximity by frequent and
destructive inroads. In this interval, therefore, of about
seventy years, we must place the second migration of about
seventy years, we must place the second migration of the Goths
from the Baltic to the Euxine; but the cause that produced it
lies concealed among the various motives which actuate the
conduct of unsettled barbarians. Either a pestilence or a famine,
a victory or a defeat, an oracle of the gods or the eloquence of
a daring leader, were sufficient to impel the Gothic arms on the
milder climates of the south. Besides the influence of a martial
religion, the numbers and spirit of the Goths were equal to the
most dangerous adventures. The use of round bucklers and short
swords rendered them formidable in a close engagement; the manly
obedience which they yielded to hereditary kings, gave uncommon
union and stability to their councils; and the renowned Amala,
the hero of that age, and the tenth ancestor of Theodoric, king
of Italy, enforced, by the ascendant of personal merit, the
prerogative of his birth, which he derived from the Anses, or
demi gods of the Gothic nation.
The fame of a great enterprise excited the bravest warriors
from all the Vandalic states of Germany, many of whom are seen a
few years afterwards combating under the common standard of the
Goths. The first motions of the emigrants carried them to the
banks of the Prypec, a river universally conceived by the
ancients to be the southern branch of the Borysthenes. The
windings of that great stream through the plains of Poland and
Russia gave a direction to their line of march, and a constant
supply of fresh water and pasturage to their numerous herds of
cattle. They followed the unknown course of the river, confident
in their valor, and careless of whatever power might oppose their
progress. The Bastarnæ and the Venedi were the first who
presented themselves; and the flower of their youth, either from
choice or compulsion, increased the Gothic army. The
Bastarnæ dwelt on the northern side of the Carpathian
Mountains: the immense tract of land that separated the
Bastarnæ from the savages of Finland was possessed, or
rather wasted, by the Venedi; we have some reason to believe that
the first of these nations, which distinguished itself in the
Macedonian war, and was afterwards divided into the formidable
tribes of the Peucini, the Borani, the Carpi, &c., derived
its origin from the Germans. * With better authority, a Sarmatian
extraction may be assigned to the Venedi, who rendered themselves
so famous in the middle ages. But the confusion of blood and
manners on that doubtful frontier often perplexed the most
accurate observers. As the Goths advanced near the Euxine Sea,
they encountered a purer race of Sarmatians, the Jazyges, the
Alani, and the Roxolani; and they were probably the first Germans
who saw the mouths of the Borysthenes, and of the Tanais. If we
inquire into the characteristic marks of the people of Germany
and of Sarmatia, we shall discover that those two great portions
of human kind were principally distinguished by fixed huts or
movable tents, by a close dress or flowing garments, by the
marriage of one or of several wives, by a military force,
consisting, for the most part, either of infantry or cavalry; and
above all, by the use of the Teutonic, or of the Sclavonian
language; the last of which has been diffused by conquest, from
the confines of Italy to the neighborhood of Japan.
Chapter X: Emperors Decius, Gallus,
Æmilianus, Valerian And Gallienus. -- Part
II.
The Goths were now in possession of the Ukraine, a country of
considerable extent and uncommon fertility, intersected with
navigable rivers, which, from either side, discharge themselves
into the Borysthenes; and interspersed with large and leafy
forests of oaks. The plenty of game and fish, the innumerable
bee-hives deposited in the hollow of old trees, and in the
cavities of rocks, and forming, even in that rude age, a valuable
branch of commerce, the size of the cattle, the temperature of
the air, the aptness of the soil for every species of gain, and
the luxuriancy of the vegetation, all displayed the liberality of
Nature, and tempted the industry of man. But the Goths withstood
all these temptations, and still adhered to a life of idleness,
of poverty, and of rapine.
The Scythian hordes, which, towards the east, bordered on the
new settlements of the Goths, presented nothing to their arms,
except the doubtful chance of an unprofitable victory. But the
prospect of the Roman territories was far more alluring; and the
fields of Dacia were covered with rich harvests, sown by the
hands of an industrious, and exposed to be gathered by those of a
warlike, people. It is probable that the conquests of Trajan,
maintained by his successors, less for any real advantage than
for ideal dignity, had contributed to weaken the empire on that
side. The new and unsettled province of Dacia was neither strong
enough to resist, nor rich enough to satiate, the rapaciousness
of the barbarians. As long as the remote banks of the Niester
were considered as the boundary of the Roman power, the
fortifications of the Lower Danube were more carelessly guarded,
and the inhabitants of Mæsia lived in supine security,
fondly conceiving themselves at an inaccessible distance from any
barbarian invaders. The irruptions of the Goths, under the reign
of Philip, fatally convinced them of their mistake. The king, or
leader, of that fierce nation, traversed with contempt the
province of Dacia, and passed both the Niester and the Danube
without encountering any opposition capable of retarding his
progress. The relaxed discipline of the Roman troops betrayed the
most important posts, where they were stationed, and the fear of
deserved punishment induced great numbers of them to enlist under
the Gothic standard. The various multitude of barbarians
appeared, at length, under the walls of Marcianopolis, a city
built by Trajan in honor of his sister, and at that time the
capital of the second Mæsia. The inhabitants consented to
ransom their lives and property by the payment of a large sum of
money, and the invaders retreated back into their deserts,
animated, rather than satisfied, with the first success of their
arms against an opulent but feeble country. Intelligence was soon
transmitted to the emperor Decius, that Cniva, king of the Goths,
had passed the Danube a second time, with more considerable
forces; that his numerous detachments scattered devastation over
the province of Mæsia, whilst the main body of the army,
consisting of seventy thousand Germans and Sarmatians, a force
equal to the most daring achievements, required the presence of
the Roman monarch, and the exertion of his military power.
Decius found the Goths engaged before Nicopolis, one of the
many monuments of Trajan's victories. On his approach they raised
the siege, but with a design only of marching away to a conquest
of greater importance, the siege of Philippopolis, a city of
Thrace, founded by the father of Alexander, near the foot of
Mount Hæmus. Decius followed them through a difficult
country, and by forced marches; but when he imagined himself at a
considerable distance from the rear of the Goths, Cniva turned
with rapid fury on his pursuers. The camp of the Romans was
surprised and pillaged, and, for the first time, their emperor
fled in disorder before a troop of half-armed barbarians. After a
long resistance, Philoppopolis, destitute of succor, was taken by
storm. A hundred thousand persons are reported to have been
massacred in the sack of that great city. Many prisoners of
consequence became a valuable accession to the spoil; and
Priscus, a brother of the late emperor Philip, blushed not to
assume the purple, under the protection of the barbarous enemies
of Rome. The time, however, consumed in that tedious siege,
enabled Decius to revive the courage, restore the discipline, and
recruit the numbers of his troops. He intercepted several parties
of Carpi, and other Germans, who were hastening to share the
victory of their countrymen, intrusted the passes of the
mountains to officers of approved valor and fidelity, repaired
and strengthened the fortifications of the Danube, and exerted
his utmost vigilance to oppose either the progress or the retreat
of the Goths. Encouraged by the return of fortune, he anxiously
waited for an opportunity to retrieve, by a great and decisive
blow, his own glory, and that of the Roman arms.
At the same time when Decius was struggling with the violence
of the tempest, his mind, calm and deliberate amidst the tumult
of war, investigated the more general causes, that, since the age
of the Antonines, had so impetuously urged the decline of the
Roman greatness. He soon discovered that it was impossible to
replace that greatness on a permanent basis, without restoring
public virtue, ancient principles and manners, and the oppressed
majesty of the laws. To execute this noble but arduous design, he
first resolved to revive the obsolete office of censor; an office
which, as long as it had subsisted in its pristine integrity, had
so much contributed to the perpetuity of the state, till it was
usurped and gradually neglected by the Cæsars. Conscious
that the favor of the sovereign may confer power, but that the
esteem of the people can alone bestow authority, he submitted the
choice of the censor to the unbiased voice of the senate. By
their unanimous votes, or rather acclamations, Valerian, who was
afterwards emperor, and who then served with distinction in the
army of Decius, was declared the most worthy of that exalted
honor. As soon as the decree of the senate was transmitted to the
emperor, he assembled a great council in his camp, and before the
investiture of the censor elect, he apprised him of the
difficulty and importance of his great office. "Happy Valerian,"
said the prince to his distinguished subject, "happy in the
general approbation of the senate and of the Roman republic!
Accept the censorship of mankind; and judge of our manners. You
will select those who deserve to continue members of the senate;
you will restore the equestrian order to its ancient splendor;
you will improve the revenue, yet moderate the public burdens.
You will distinguish into regular classes the various and
infinite multitude of citizens, and accurately view the military
strength, the wealth, the virtue, and the resources of Rome. Your
decisions shall obtain the force of laws. The army, the palace,
the ministers of justice, and the great officers of the empire,
are all subject to your tribunal. None are exempted, excepting
only the ordinary consuls, the præfect of the city, the
king of the sacrifices, and (as long as she preserves her
chastity inviolate) the eldest of the vestal virgins. Even these
few, who may not dread the severity, will anxiously solicit the
esteem, of the Roman censor."
A magistrate, invested with such extensive powers, would have
appeared not so much the minister, as the colleague of his
sovereign. Valerian justly dreaded an elevation so full of envy
and of suspicion. He modestly argued the alarming greatness of
the trust, his own insufficiency, and the incurable corruption of
the times. He artfully insinuated, that the office of censor was
inseparable from the Imperial dignity, and that the feeble hands
of a subject were unequal to the support of such an immense
weight of cares and of power. The approaching event of war soon
put an end to the prosecution of a project so specious, but so
impracticable; and whilst it preserved Valerian from the danger,
saved the emperor Decius from the disappointment, which would
most probably have attended it. A censor may maintain, he can
never restore, the morals of a state. It is impossible for such a
magistrate to exert his authority with benefit, or even with
effect, unless he is supported by a quick sense of honor and
virtue in the minds of the people, by a decent reverence for the
public opinion, and by a train of useful prejudices combating on
the side of national manners. In a period when these principles
are annihilated, the censorial jurisdiction must either sink into
empty pageantry, or be converted into a partial instrument of
vexatious oppression. It was easier to vanquish the Goths than to
eradicate the public vices; yet even in the first of these
enterprises, Decius lost his army and his life.
The Goths were now, on every side, surrounded and pursued by
the Roman arms. The flower of their troops had perished in the
long siege of Philippopolis, and the exhausted country could no
longer afford subsistence for the remaining multitude of
licentious barbarians. Reduced to this extremity, the Goths would
gladly have purchased, by the surrender of all their booty and
prisoners, the permission of an undisturbed retreat. But the
emperor, confident of victory, and resolving, by the chastisement
of these invaders, to strike a salutary terror into the nations
of the North, refused to listen to any terms of accommodation.
The high-spirited barbarians preferred death to slavery. An
obscure town of Mæsia, called Forum Terebronii, was the
scene of the battle. The Gothic army was drawn up in three lines,
and either from choice or accident, the front of the third line
was covered by a morass. In the beginning of the action, the son
of Decius, a youth of the fairest hopes, and already associated
to the honors of the purple, was slain by an arrow, in the sight
of his afflicted father; who, summoning all his fortitude,
admonished the dismayed troops, that the loss of a single soldier
was of little importance to the republic. The conflict was
terrible; it was the combat of despair against grief and rage.
The first line of the Goths at length gave way in disorder; the
second, advancing to sustain it, shared its fate; and the third
only remained entire, prepared to dispute the passage of the
morass, which was imprudently attempted by the presumption of the
enemy. "Here the fortune of the day turned, and all things became
adverse to the Romans; the place deep with ooze, sinking under
those who stood, slippery to such as advanced; their armor heavy,
the waters deep; nor could they wield, in that uneasy situation,
their weighty javelins. The barbarians, on the contrary, were
inured to encounter in the bogs, their persons tall, their spears
long, such as could wound at a distance." In this morass the
Roman army, after an ineffectual struggle, was irrecoverably
lost; nor could the body of the emperor ever be found. Such was
the fate of Decius, in the fiftieth year of his age; an
accomplished prince, active in war and affable in peace; who,
together with his son, has deserved to be compared, both in life
and death, with the brightest examples of ancient virtue.
This fatal blow humbled, for a very little time, she insolence
of the legions. They appeared to have patiently expected, and
submissively obeyed, the decree of the senate which regulated the
succession to the throne. From a just regard for the memory of
Decius, the Imperial title was conferred on Hostilianus, his only
surviving son; but an equal rank, with more effectual power, was
granted to Gallus, whose experience and ability seemed equal to
the great trust of guardian to the young prince and the
distressed empire. The first care of the new emperor was to
deliver the Illyrian provinces from the intolerable weight of the
victorious Goths. He consented to leave in their hands the rich
fruits of their invasion, an immense booty, and what was still
more disgraceful, a great number of prisoners of the highest
merit and quality. He plentifully supplied their camp with every
conveniency that could assuage their angry spirits or facilitate
their so much wished-for departure; and he even promised to pay
them annually a large sum of gold, on condition they should never
afterwards infest the Roman territories by their incursions.
In the age of the Scipios, the most opulent kings of the
earth, who courted the protection of the victorious commonwealth,
were gratified with such trifling presents as could only derive a
value from the hand that bestowed them; an ivory chair, a coarse
garment of purple, an inconsiderable piece of plate, or a
quantity of copper coin. After the wealth of nations had centred
in Rome, the emperors displayed their greatness, and even their
policy, by the regular exercise of a steady and moderate
liberality towards the allies of the state. They relieved the
poverty of the barbarians, honored their merit, and recompensed
their fidelity. These voluntary marks of bounty were understood
to flow, not from the fears, but merely from the generosity or
the gratitude of the Romans; and whilst presents and subsidies
were liberally distributed among friends and suppliants, they
were sternly refused to such as claimed them as a debt. But this
stipulation, of an annual payment to a victorious enemy, appeared
without disguise in the light of an ignominious tribute; the
minds of the Romans were not yet accustomed to accept such
unequal laws from a tribe of barbarians; and the prince, who by a
necessary concession had probably saved his country, became the
object of the general contempt and aversion. The death of
Hostiliamus, though it happened in the midst of a raging
pestilence, was interpreted as the personal crime of Gallus; and
even the defeat of the later emperor was ascribed by the voice of
suspicion to the perfidious counsels of his hated successor. The
tranquillity which the empire enjoyed during the first year of
his administration, served rather to inflame than to appease the
public discontent; and as soon as the apprehensions of war were
removed, the infamy of the peace was more deeply and more
sensibly felt.
But the Romans were irritated to a still higher degree, when
they discovered that they had not even secured their repose,
though at the expense of their honor. The dangerous secret of the
wealth and weakness of the empire had been revealed to the world.
New swarms of barbarians, encouraged by the success, and not
conceiving themselves bound by the obligation of their brethren,
spread devastation though the Illyrian provinces, and terror as
far as the gates of Rome. The defence of the monarchy, which
seemed abandoned by the pusillanimous emperor, was assumed by
Æmilianus, governor of Pannonia and Mæsia; who
rallied the scattered forces, and revived the fainting spirits of
the troops. The barbarians were unexpectedly attacked, routed,
chased, and pursued beyond the Danube. The victorious leader
distributed as a donative the money collected for the tribute,
and the acclamations of the soldiers proclaimed him emperor on
the field of battle. Gallus, who, careless of the general
welfare, indulged himself in the pleasures of Italy, was almost
in the same instant informed of the success, of the revolt, and
of the rapid approach of his aspiring lieutenant. He advanced to
meet him as far as the plains of Spoleto. When the armies came in
right of each other, the soldiers of Gallus compared the
ignominious conduct of their sovereign with the glory of his
rival. They admired the valor of Æmilianus; they were
attracted by his liberality, for he offered a considerable
increase of pay to all deserters. The murder of Gallus, and of
his son Volusianus, put an end to the civil war; and the senate
gave a legal sanction to the rights of conquest. The letters of
Æmilianus to that assembly displayed a mixture of
moderation and vanity. He assured them, that he should resign to
their wisdom the civil administration; and, contenting himself
with the quality of their general, would in a short time assert
the glory of Rome, and deliver the empire from all the barbarians
both of the North and of the East. His pride was flattered by the
applause of the senate; and medals are still extant, representing
him with the name and attributes of Hercules the Victor, and Mars
the Avenger.
If the new monarch possessed the abilities, he wanted the
time, necessary to fulfil these splendid promises. Less than four
months intervened between his victory and his fall. He had
vanquished Gallus: he sunk under the weight of a competitor more
formidable than Gallus. That unfortunate prince had sent
Valerian, already distinguished by the honorable title of censor,
to bring the legions of Gaul and Germany to his aid. Valerian
executed that commission with zeal and fidelity; and as he
arrived too late to save his sovereign, he resolved to revenge
him. The troops of Æmilianus, who still lay encamped in the
plains of Spoleto, were awed by the sanctity of his character,
but much more by the superior strength of his army; and as they
were now become as incapable of personal attachment as they had
always been of constitutional principle, they readily imbrued
their hands in the blood of a prince who so lately had been the
object of their partial choice. The guilt was theirs, * but the
advantage of it was Valerian's; who obtained the possession of
the throne by the means indeed of a civil war, but with a degree
of innocence singular in that age of revolutions; since he owed
neither gratitude nor allegiance to his predecessor, whom he
dethroned.
Valerian was about sixty years of age when he was invested
with the purple, not by the caprice of the populace, or the
clamors of the army, but by the unanimous voice of the Roman
world. In his gradual ascent through the honors of the state, he
had deserved the favor of virtuous princes, and had declared
himself the enemy of tyrants. His noble birth, his mild but
unblemished manners, his learning, prudence, and experience, were
revered by the senate and people; and if mankind (according to
the observation of an ancient writer) had been left at liberty to
choose a master, their choice would most assuredly have fallen on
Valerian. Perhaps the merit of this emperor was inadequate to his
reputation; perhaps his abilities, or at least his spirit, were
affected by the languor and coldness of old age. The
consciousness of his decline engaged him to share the throne with
a younger and more active associate; the emergency of the times
demanded a general no less than a prince; and the experience of
the Roman censor might have directed him where to bestow the
Imperial purple, as the reward of military merit. But instead of
making a judicious choice, which would have confirmed his reign
and endeared his memory, Valerian, consulting only the dictates
of affection or vanity, immediately invested with the supreme
honors his son Gallienus, a youth whose effeminate vices had been
hitherto concealed by the obscurity of a private station. The
joint government of the father and the son subsisted about seven,
and the sole administration of Gallien continued about eight,
years. But the whole period was one uninterrupted series of
confusion and calamity. As the Roman empire was at the same time,
and on every side, attacked by the blind fury of foreign
invaders, and the wild ambition of domestic usurpers, we shall
consult order and perspicuity, by pursuing, not so much the
doubtful arrangement of dates, as the more natural distribution
of subjects. The most dangerous enemies of Rome, during the
reigns of Valerian and Gallienus, were, 1. The Franks; 2. The
Alemanni; 3. The Goths; and, 4. The Persians. Under these general
appellations, we may comprehend the adventures of less
considerable tribes, whose obscure and uncouth names would only
serve to oppress the memory and perplex the attention of the
reader.
I. As the posterity of the Franks compose one of the greatest
and most enlightened nations of Europe, the powers of learning
and ingenuity have been exhausted in the discovery of their
unlettered ancestors. To the tales of credulity have succeeded
the systems of fancy. Every passage has been sifted, every spot
has been surveyed, that might possibly reveal some faint traces
of their origin. It has been supposed that Pannonia, that Gaul,
that the northern parts of Germany, gave birth to that celebrated
colony of warriors. At length the most rational critics,
rejecting the fictitious emigrations of ideal conquerors, have
acquiesced in a sentiment whose simplicity persuades us of its
truth. They suppose, that about the year two hundred and forty, a
new confederacy was formed under the name of Franks, by the old
inhabitants of the Lower Rhine and the Weser. * The present
circle of Westphalia, the Landgraviate of Hesse, and the duchies
of Brunswick and Luneburg, were the ancient of the Chauci who, in
their inaccessible morasses, defied the Roman arms; of the
Cherusci, proud of the fame of Arminius; of the Catti, formidable
by their firm and intrepid infantry; and of several other tribes
of inferior power and renown. The love of liberty was the ruling
passion of these Germans; the enjoyment of it their best
treasure; the word that expressed that enjoyment, the most
pleasing to their ear. They deserved, they assumed, they
maintained the honorable appellation of Franks, or Freemen; which
concealed, though it did not extinguish, the peculiar names of
the several states of the confederacy. Tacit consent, and mutual
advantage, dictated the first laws of the union; it was gradually
cemented by habit and experience. The league of the Franks may
admit of some comparison with the Helvetic body; in which every
canton, retaining its independent sovereignty, consults with its
brethren in the common cause, without acknowledging the authority
of any supreme head, or representative assembly. But the
principle of the two confederacies was extremely different. A
peace of two hundred years has rewarded the wise and honest
policy of the Swiss. An inconstant spirit, the thirst of rapine,
and a disregard to the most solemn treaties, disgraced the
character of the Franks.
Chapter X: Emperors Decius, Gallus,
Æmilianus, Valerian And Gallienus. -- Part
III.
The Romans had long experienced the daring valor of the people
of Lower Germany. The union of their strength threatened Gaul
with a more formidable invasion, and required the presence of
Gallienus, the heir and colleague of Imperial power. Whilst that
prince, and his infant son Salonius, displayed, in the court of
Treves, the majesty of the empire its armies were ably conducted
by their general, Posthumus, who, though he afterwards betrayed
the family of Valerian, was ever faithful to the great interests
of the monarchy. The treacherous language of panegyrics and
medals darkly announces a long series of victories. Trophies and
titles attest (if such evidence can attest) the fame of
Posthumus, who is repeatedly styled the Conqueror of the Germans,
and the Savior of Gaul.
But a single fact, the only one indeed of which we have any
distinct knowledge, erases, in a great measure, these monuments
of vanity and adulation. The Rhine, though dignified with the
title of Safeguard of the provinces, was an imperfect barrier
against the daring spirit of enterprise with which the Franks
were actuated. Their rapid devastations stretched from the river
to the foot of the Pyrenees; nor were they stopped by those
mountains. Spain, which had never dreaded, was unable to resist,
the inroads of the Germans. During twelve years, the greatest
part of the reign of Gallie nus, that opulent country was the
theatre of unequal and destructive hostilities. Tarragona, the
flourishing capital of a peaceful province, was sacked and almost
destroyed; and so late as the days of Orosius, who wrote in the
fifth century, wretched cottages, scattered amidst the ruins of
magnificent cities, still recorded the rage of the barbarians.
When the exhausted country no longer supplied a variety of
plunder, the Franks seized on some vessels in the ports of Spain,
and transported themselves into Mauritania. The distant province
was astonished with the fury of these barbarians, who seemed to
fall from a new world, as their name, manners, and complexion,
were equally unknown on the coast of Africa.
II. In that part of Upper Saxony, beyond the Elbe, which is at
present called the Marquisate of Lusace, there existed, in
ancient times, a sacred wood, the awful seat of the superstition
of the Suevi. None were permitted to enter the holy precincts,
without confessing, by their servile bonds and suppliant posture,
the immediate presence of the sovereign Deity. Patriotism
contributed, as well as devotion, to consecrate the Sonnenwald,
or wood of the Semnones. It was universally believed, that the
nation had received its first existence on that sacred spot. At
stated periods, the numerous tribes who gloried in the Suevic
blood, resorted thither by their ambassadors; and the memory of
their common extraction was perpetrated by barbaric rites and
human sacrifices. The wide-extended name of Suevi filled the
interior countries of Germany, from the banks of the Oder to
those of the Danube. They were distinguished from the other
Germans by their peculiar mode of dressing their long hair, which
they gathered into a rude knot on the crown of the head; and they
delighted in an ornament that showed their ranks more lofty and
terrible in the eyes of the enemy. Jealous as the Germans were of
military renown, they all confessed the superior valor of the
Suevi; and the tribes of the Usipetes and Tencteri, who, with a
vast army, encountered the dictator Cæsar, declared that
they esteemed it not a disgrace to have fled before a people to
whose arms the immortal gods themselves were unequal.
In the reign of the emperor Caracalla, an innumerable swarm of
Suevi appeared on the banks of the Mein, and in the neighborhood
of the Roman provinces, in quest either of food, of plunder, or
of glory. The hasty army of volunteers gradually coalesced into a
great and permanent nation, and as it was composed from so many
different tribes, assumed the name of Alemanni, * or
Allmen; to denote at once their various lineage and
their common bravery. The latter was soon felt by the Romans in
many a hostile inroad. The Alemanni fought chiefly on horseback;
but their cavalry was rendered still more formidable by a mixture
of light infantry, selected from the bravest and most active of
the youth, whom frequent exercise had inured to accompany the
horsemen in the longest march, the most rapid charge, or the most
precipitate retreat.
This warlike people of Germans had been astonished by the
immense preparations of Alexander Severus; they were dismayed by
the arms of his successor, a barbarian equal in valor and
fierceness to themselves. But still hovering on the frontiers of
the empire, they increased the general disorder that ensued after
the death of Decius. They inflicted severe wounds on the rich
provinces of Gaul; they were the first who removed the veil that
covered the feeble majesty of Italy. A numerous body of the
Alemanni penetrated across the Danube and through the
Rhætian Alps into the plains of Lombardy, advanced as far
as Ravenna, and displayed the victorious banners of barbarians
almost in sight of Rome.
The insult and the danger rekindled in the senate some sparks
of their ancient virtue. Both the emperors were engaged in far
distant wars, Valerian in the East, and Gallienus on the Rhine.
All the hopes and resources of the Romans were in themselves. In
this emergency, the senators resumed he defence of the republic,
drew out the Prætorian guards, who had been left to
garrison the capital, and filled up their numbers, by enlisting
into the public service the stoutest and most willing of the
Plebeians. The Alemanni, astonished with the sudden appearance of
an army more numerous than their own, retired into Germany, laden
with spoil; and their retreat was esteemed as a victory by the
unwarlike Romans.
When Gallienus received the intelligence that his capital was
delivered from the barbarians, he was much less delighted than
alarmed with the courage of the senate, since it might one day
prompt them to rescue the public from domestic tyranny as well as
from foreign invasion. His timid ingratitude was published to his
subjects, in an edict which prohibited the senators from
exercising any military employment, and even from approaching the
camps of the legions. But his fears were groundless. The rich and
luxurious nobles, sinking into their natural character, accepted,
as a favor, this disgraceful exemption from military service; and
as long as they were indulged in the enjoyment of their baths,
their theatres, and their villas, they cheerfully resigned the
more dangerous cares of empire to the rough hands of peasants and
soldiers.
Another invasion of the Alemanni, of a more formidable aspect,
but more glorious event, is mentioned by a writer of the lower
empire. Three hundred thousand are said to have been vanquished,
in a battle near Milan, by Gallienus in person, at the head of
only ten thousand Romans. We may, however, with great
probability, ascribe this incredible victory either to the
credulity of the historian, or to some exaggerated exploits of
one of the emperor's lieutenants. It was by arms of a very
different nature, that Gallienus endeavored to protect Italy from
the fury of the Germans. He espoused Pipa, the daughter of a king
of the Marcomanni, a Suevic tribe, which was often confounded
with the Alemanni in their wars and conquests. To the father, as
the price of his alliance, he granted an ample settlement in
Pannonia. The native charms of unpolished beauty seem to have
fixed the daughter in the affections of the inconstant emperor,
and the bands of policy were more firmly connected by those of
love. But the haughty prejudice of Rome still refused the name of
marriage to the profane mixture of a citizen and a barbarian; and
has stigmatized the German princess with the opprobrious title of
concubine of Gallienus.
III. We have already traced the emigration of the Goths from
Scandinavia, or at least from Prussia, to the mouth of the
Borysthenes, and have followed their victorious arms from the
Borysthenes to the Danube. Under the reigns of Valerian and
Gallienus, the frontier of the last-mentioned river was
perpetually infested by the inroads of Germans and Sarmatians;
but it was defended by the Romans with more than usual firmness
and success. The provinces that were the seat of war, recruited
the armies of Rome with an inexhaustible supply of hardy
soldiers; and more than one of these Illyrian peasants attained
the station, and displayed the abilities, of a general. Though
flying parties of the barbarians, who incessantly hovered on the
banks of the Danube, penetrated sometimes to the confines of
Italy and Macedonia, their progress was commonly checked, or
their return intercepted, by the Imperial lieutenants. But the
great stream of the Gothic hostilities was diverted into a very
different channel. The Goths, in their new settlement of the
Ukraine, soon became masters of the northern coast of the Euxine:
to the south of that inland sea were situated the soft and
wealthy provinces of Asia Minor, which possessed all that could
attract, and nothing that could resist, a barbarian
conqueror.
The banks of the Borysthenes are only sixty miles distant from
the narrow entrance of the peninsula of Crim Tartary, known to
the ancients under the name of Chersonesus Taurica. On that
inhospitable shore, Euripides, embellishing with exquisite art
the tales of antiquity, has placed the scene of one of his most
affecting tragedies. The bloody sacrifices of Diana, the arrival
of Orestes and Pylades, and the triumph of virtue and religion
over savage fierceness, serve to represent an historical truth,
that the Tauri, the original inhabitants of the peninsula, were,
in some degree, reclaimed from their brutal manners by a gradual
intercourse with the Grecian colonies, which settled along the
maritime coast. The little kingdom of Bosphorus, whose capital
was situated on the Straits, through which the Mæotis
communicates itself to the Euxine, was composed of degenerate
Greeks and half-civilized barbarians. It subsisted, as an
independent state, from the time of the Peloponnesian war, was at
last swallowed up by the ambition of Mithridates, and, with the
rest of his dominions, sunk under the weight of the Roman arms.
From the reign of Augustus, the kings of Bosphorus were the
humble, but not useless, allies of the empire. By presents, by
arms, and by a slight fortification drawn across the Isthmus,
they effectually guarded against the roving plunderers of
Sarmatia, the access of a country, which, from its peculiar
situation and convenient harbors, commanded the Euxine Sea and
Asia Minor. As long as the sceptre was possessed by a lineal
succession of kings, they acquitted themselves of their important
charge with vigilance and success. Domestic factions, and the
fears, or private interest, of obscure usurpers, who seized on
the vacant throne, admitted the Goths into the heart of
Bosphorus. With the acquisition of a superfluous waste of fertile
soil, the conquerors obtained the command of a naval force,
sufficient to transport their armies to the coast of Asia. This
ships used in the navigation of the Euxine were of a very
singular construction. They were slight flat-bottomed barks
framed of timber only, without the least mixture of iron, and
occasionally covered with a shelving roof, on the appearance of a
tempest. In these floating houses, the Goths carelessly trusted
themselves to the mercy of an unknown sea, under the conduct of
sailors pressed into the service, and whose skill and fidelity
were equally suspicious. But the hopes of plunder had banished
every idea of danger, and a natural fearlessness of temper
supplied in their minds the more rational confidence, which is
the just result of knowledge and experience. Warriors of such a
daring spirit must have often murmured against the cowardice of
their guides, who required the strongest assurances of a settled
calm before they would venture to embark; and would scarcely ever
be tempted to lose sight of the land. Such, at least, is the
practice of the modern Turks; and they are probably not inferior,
in the art of navigation, to the ancient inhabitants of
Bosphorus.
The fleet of the Goths, leaving the coast of Circassia on the
left hand, first appeared before Pityus, the utmost limits of the
Roman provinces; a city provided with a convenient port, and
fortified with a strong wall. Here they met with a resistance
more obstinate than they had reason to expect from the feeble
garrison of a distant fortress. They were repulsed; and their
disappointment seemed to diminish the terror of the Gothic name.
As long as Successianus, an officer of superior rank and merit,
defended that frontier, all their efforts were ineffectual; but
as soon as he was removed by Valerian to a more honorable but
less important station, they resumed the attack of Pityus; and by
the destruction of that city, obliterated the memory of their
former disgrace.
Circling round the eastern extremity of the Euxine Sea, the
navigation from Pityus to Trebizond is about three hundred miles.
The course of the Goths carried them in sight of the country of
Colchis, so famous by the expedition of the Argonauts; and they
even attempted, though without success, to pillage a rich temple
at the mouth of the River Phasis. Trebizond, celebrated in the
retreat of the ten thousand as an ancient colony of Greeks,
derived its wealth and splendor from the magnificence of the
emperor Hadrian, who had constructed an artificial port on a
coast left destitute by nature of secure harbors. The city was
large and populous; a double enclosure of walls seemed to defy
the fury of the Goths, and the usual garrison had been
strengthened by a reenforcement of ten thousand men. But there
are not any advantages capable of supplying the absence of
discipline and vigilance. The numerous garrison of Trebizond,
dissolved in riot and luxury, disdained to guard their
impregnable fortifications. The Goths soon discovered the supine
negligence of the besieged, erected a lofty pile of fascines,
ascended the walls in the silence of the night, and entered the
defenceless city sword in hand. A general massacre of the people
ensued, whilst the affrighted soldiers escaped through the
opposite gates of the town. The most holy temples, and the most
splendid edifices, were involved in a common destruction. The
booty that fell into the hands of the Goths was immense: the
wealth of the adjacent countries had been deposited in Trebizond,
as in a secure place of refuge. The number of captives was
incredible, as the victorious barbarians ranged without
opposition through the extensive province of Pontus. The rich
spoils of Trebizond filled a great fleet of ships that had been
found in the port. The robust youth of the sea-coast were chained
to the oar; and the Goths, satisfied with the success of their
first naval expedition, returned in triumph to their new
establishment in the kingdom of Bosphorus.
The second expedition of the Goths was undertaken with greater
powers of men and ships; but they steered a different course,
and, disdaining the exhausted provinces of Pontus, followed the
western coast of the Euxine, passed before the wide mouths of the
Borysthenes, the Niester, and the Danube, and increasing their
fleet by the capture of a great number of fishing barks, they
approached the narrow outlet through which the Euxine Sea pours
its waters into the Mediterranean, and divides the continents of
Europe and Asia. The garrison of Chalcedon was encamped near the
temple of Jupiter Urius, on a promontory that commanded the
entrance of the Strait; and so inconsiderable were the dreaded
invasions of the barbarians that this body of troops surpassed in
number the Gothic army. But it was in numbers alone that they
surpassed it. They deserted with precipitation their advantageous
post, and abandoned the town of Chalcedon, most plentifully
stored with arms and money, to the discretion of the conquerors.
Whilst they hesitated whether they should prefer the sea or land
Europe or Asia, for the scene of their hostilities, a perfidious
fugitive pointed out Nicomedia, * once the capital of the kings
of Bithynia, as a rich and easy conquest. He guided the march
which was only sixty miles from the camp of Chalcedon, directed
the resistless attack, and partook of the booty; for the Goths
had learned sufficient policy to reward the traitor whom they
detested. Nice, Prusa, Apamæa, Cius, cities that had
sometimes rivalled, or imitated, the splendor of Nicomedia, were
involved in the same calamity, which, in a few weeks, raged
without control through the whole province of Bithynia. Three
hundred years of peace, enjoyed by the soft inhabitants of Asia,
had abolished the exercise of arms, and removed the apprehension
of danger. The ancient walls were suffered to moulder away, and
all the revenue of the most opulent cities was reserved for the
construction of baths, temples, and theatres.
When the city of Cyzicus withstood the utmost effort of
Mithridates, it was distinguished by wise laws, a naval power of
two hundred galleys, and three arsenals, of arms, of military
engines, and of corn. It was still the seat of wealth and luxury;
but of its ancient strength, nothing remained except the
situation, in a little island of the Propontis, connected with
the continent of Asia only by two bridges. From the recent sack
of Prusa, the Goths advanced within eighteen miles. of the city,
which they had devoted to destruction; but the ruin of Cyzicus
was delayed by a fortunate accident. The season was rainy, and
the Lake Apolloniates, the reservoir of all the springs of Mount
Olympus, rose to an uncommon height. The little river of
Rhyndacus, which issues from the lake, swelled into a broad and
rapid stream, and stopped the progress of the Goths. Their
retreat to the maritime city of Heraclea, where the fleet had
probably been stationed, was attended by a long train of wagons,
laden with the spoils of Bithynia, and was marked by the flames
of Nice and Nicomedia, which they wantonly burnt. Some obscure
hints are mentioned of a doubtful combat that secured their
retreat. But even a complete victory would have been of little
moment, as the approach of the autumnal equinox summoned them to
hasten their return. To navigate the Euxine before the month of
May, or after that of September, is esteemed by the modern Turks
the most unquestionable instance of rashness and folly.
When we are informed that the third fleet, equipped by the
Goths in the ports of Bosphorus, consisted of five hundred sails
of ships, our ready imagination instantly computes and multiplies
the formidable armament; but, as we are assured by the judicious
Strabo, that the piratical vessels used by the barbarians of
Pontus and the Lesser Scythia, were not capable of containing
more than twenty-five or thirty men we may safely affirm, that
fifteen thousand warriors, at the most, embarked in this great
expedition. Impatient of the limits of the Euxine, they steered
their destructive course from the Cimmerian to the Thracian
Bosphorus. When they had almost gained the middle of the Straits,
they were suddenly driven back to the entrance of them; till a
favorable wind, springing up the next day, carried them in a few
hours into the placid sea, or rather lake, of the Propontis.
Their landing on the little island of Cyzicus was attended with
the ruin of that ancient and noble city. From thence issuing
again through the narrow passage of the Hellespont, they pursued
their winding navigation amidst the numerous islands scattered
over the Archipelago, or the Ægean Sea. The assistance of
captives and deserters must have been very necessary to pilot
their vessels, and to direct their various incursions, as well on
the coast of Greece as on that of Asia. At length the Gothic
fleet anchored in the port of Piræus, five miles distant
from Athens, which had attempted to make some preparations for a
vigorous defence. Cleodamus, one of the engineers employed by the
emperor's orders to fortify the maritime cities against the
Goths, had already begun to repair the ancient walls, fallen to
decay since the time of Scylla. The efforts of his skill were
ineffectual, and the barbarians became masters of the native seat
of the muses and the arts. But while the conquerors abandoned
themselves to the license of plunder and intemperance, their
fleet, that lay with a slender guard in the harbor of
Piræus, was unexpectedly attacked by the brave Daxippus,
who, flying with the engineer Cleodamus from the sack of Athens,
collected a hasty band of volunteers, peasants as well as
soldiers, and in some measure avenged the calamities of his
country.
But this exploit, whatever lustre it might shed on the
declining age of Athens, served rather to irritate than to subdue
the undaunted spirit of the northern invaders. A general
conflagration blazed out at the same time in every district of
Greece. Thebes and Argos, Corinth and Sparta, which had formerly
waged such memorable wars against each other, were now unable to
bring an army into the field, or even to defend their ruined
fortifications. The rage of war, both by land and by sea, spread
from the eastern point of Sunium to the western coast of Epirus.
The Goths had already advanced within sight of Italy, when the
approach of such imminent danger awakened the indolent Gallienus
from his dream of pleasure. The emperor appeared in arms; and his
presence seems to have checked the ardor, and to have divided the
strength, of the enemy. Naulobatus, a chief of the Heruli,
accepted an honorable capitulation, entered with a large body of
his countrymen into the service of Rome, and was invested with
the ornaments of the consular dignity, which had never before
been profaned by the hands of a barbarian. Great numbers of the
Goths, disgusted with the perils and hardships of a tedious
voyage, broke into Mæsia, with a design of forcing their
way over the Danube to their settlements in the Ukraine. The wild
attempt would have proved inevitable destruction, if the discord
of the Roman generals had not opened to the barbarians the means
of an escape. The small remainder of this destroying host
returned on board their vessels; and measuring back their way
through the Hellespont and the Bosphorus, ravaged in their
passage the shores of Troy, whose fame, immortalized by Homer,
will probably survive the memory of the Gothic conquests. As soon
as they found themselves in safety within the basin of the
Euxine, they landed at Anchialus in Thrace, near the foot of
Mount Hæmus; and, after all their toils, indulged
themselves in the use of those pleasant and salutary hot baths.
What remained of the voyage was a short and easy navigation. Such
was the various fate of this third and greatest of their naval
enterprises. It may seem difficult to conceive how the original
body of fifteen thousand warriors could sustain the losses and
divisions of so bold an adventure. But as their numbers were
gradually wasted by the sword, by shipwrecks, and by the
influence of a warm climate, they were perpetually renewed by
troops of banditti and deserters, who flocked to the standard of
plunder, and by a crowd of fugitive slaves, often of German or
Sarmatian extraction, who eagerly seized the glorious opportunity
of freedom and revenge. In these expeditions, the Gothic nation
claimed a superior share of honor and danger; but the tribes that
fought under the Gothic banners are sometimes distinguished and
sometimes confounded in the imperfect histories of that age; and
as the barbarian fleets seemed to issue from the mouth of the
Tanais, the vague but familiar appellation of Scythians was
frequently bestowed on the mixed multitude.
Chapter X: Emperors Decius, Gallus,
Æmilianus, Valerian And Gallienus. -- Part
IV.
In the general calamities of mankind, the death of an
individual, however exalted, the ruin of an edifice, however
famous, are passed over with careless inattention. Yet we cannot
forget that the temple of Diana at Ephesus, after having risen
with increasing splendor from seven repeated misfortunes, was
finally burnt by the Goths in their third naval invasion. The
arts of Greece, and the wealth of Asia, had conspired to erect
that sacred and magnificent structure. It was supported by a
hundred and twenty-seven marble columns of the Ionic order. They
were the gifts of devout monarchs, and each was sixty feet high.
The altar was adorned with the masterly sculptures of Praxiteles,
who had, perhaps, selected from the favorite legends of the place
the birth of the divine children of Latona, the concealment of
Apollo after the slaughter of the Cyclops, and the clemency of
Bacchus to the vanquished Amazons. Yet the length of the temple
of Ephesus was only four hundred and twenty-five feet, about two
thirds of the measure of the church of St. Peter's at Rome. In
the other dimensions, it was still more inferior to that sublime
production of modern architecture. The spreading arms of a
Christian cross require a much greater breadth than the oblong
temples of the Pagans; and the boldest artists of antiquity would
have been startled at the proposal of raising in the air a dome
of the size and proportions of the Pantheon. The temple of Diana
was, however, admired as one of the wonders of the world.
Successive empires, the Persian, the Macedonian, and the Roman,
had revered its sanctity and enriched its splendor. But the rude
savages of the Baltic were destitute of a taste for the elegant
arts, and they despised the ideal terrors of a foreign
superstition.
Another circumstance is related of these invasions, which
might deserve our notice, were it not justly to be suspected as
the fanciful conceit of a recent sophist. We are told, that in
the sack of Athens the Goths had collected all the libraries, and
were on the point of setting fire to this funeral pile of Grecian
learning, had not one of their chiefs, of more refined policy
than his brethren, dissuaded them from the design; by the
profound observation, that as long as the Greeks were addicted to
the study of books, they would never apply themselves to the
exercise of arms. The sagacious counsellor (should the truth of
the fact be admitted) reasoned like an ignorant barbarian. In the
most polite and powerful nations, genius of every kind has
displayed itself about the same period; and the age of science
has generally been the age of military virtue and success.
IV. The new sovereign of Persia, Artaxerxes and his son Sapor,
had triumphed (as we have already seen) over the house of
Arsaces. Of the many princes of that ancient race. Chosroes, king
of Armenia, had alone preserved both his life and his
independence. He defended himself by the natural strength of his
country; by the perpetual resort of fugitives and malecontents;
by the alliance of the Romans, and above all, by his own courage.
Invincible in arms, during a thirty years' war, he was at length
assassinated by the emissaries of Sapor, king of Persia. The
patriotic satraps of Armenia, who asserted the freedom and
dignity of the crown, implored the protection of Rome in favor of
Tiridates, the lawful heir. But the son of Chosroes was an
infant, the allies were at a distance, and the Persian monarch
advanced towards the frontier at the head of an irresistible
force. Young Tiridates, the future hope of his country, was saved
by the fidelity of a servant, and Armenia continued above
twenty-seven years a reluctant province of the great monarchy of
Persia. Elated with this easy conquest, and presuming on the
distresses or the degeneracy of the Romans, Sapor obliged the
strong garrisons of Carrhæ and Nisibis * to surrender, and
spread devastation and terror on either side of the
Euphrates.
The loss of an important frontier, the ruin of a faithful and
natural ally, and the rapid success of Sapor's ambition, affected
Rome with a deep sense of the insult as well as of the danger.
Valerian flattered himself, that the vigilance of his lieutenants
would sufficiently provide for the safety of the Rhine and of the
Danube; but he resolved, notwithstanding his advanced age, to
march in person to the defence of the Euphrates. During his
progress through Asia Minor, the naval enterprises of the Goths
were suspended, and the afflicted province enjoyed a transient
and fallacious calm. He passed the Euphrates, encountered the
Persian monarch near the walls of Edessa, was vanquished, and
taken prisoner by Sapor. The particulars of this great event are
darkly and imperfectly represented; yet, by the glimmering light
which is afforded us, we may discover a long series of
imprudence, of error, and of deserved misfortunes on the side of
the Roman emperor. He reposed an implicit confidence in
Macrianus, his Prætorian præfect. That worthless
minister rendered his master formidable only to the oppressed
subjects, and contemptible to the enemies of Rome. By his weak or
wicked counsels, the Imperial army was betrayed into a situation
where valor and military skill were equally unavailing. The
vigorous attempt of the Romans to cut their way through the
Persian host was repulsed with great slaughter; and Sapor, who
encompassed the camp with superior numbers, patiently waited till
the increasing rage of famine and pestilence had insured his
victory. The licentious murmurs of the legions soon accused
Valerian as the cause of their calamities; their seditious
clamors demanded an instant capitulation. An immense sum of gold
was offered to purchase the permission of a disgraceful retreat.
But the Persian, conscious of his superiority, refused the money
with disdain; and detaining the deputies, advanced in order of
battle to the foot of the Roman rampart, and insisted on a
personal conference with the emperor. Valerian was reduced to the
necessity of intrusting his life and dignity to the faith of an
enemy. The interview ended as it was natural to expect. The
emperor was made a prisoner, and his astonished troops laid down
their arms. In such a moment of triumph, the pride and policy of
Sapor prompted him to fill the vacant throne with a successor
entirely dependent on his pleasure. Cyriades, an obscure fugitive
of Antioch, stained with every vice, was chosen to dishonor the
Roman purple; and the will of the Persian victor could not fail
of being ratified by the acclamations, however reluctant, of the
captive army.
The Imperial slave was eager to secure the favor of his master
by an act of treason to his native country. He conducted Sapor
over the Euphrates, and, by the way of Chalcis, to the metropolis
of the East. So rapid were the motions of the Persian cavalry,
that, if we may credit a very judicious historian, the city of
Antioch was surprised when the idle multitude was fondly gazing
on the amusements of the theatre. The splendid buildings of
Antioch, private as well as public, were either pillaged or
destroyed; and the numerous inhabitants were put to the sword, or
led away into captivity. The tide of devastation was stopped for
a moment by the resolution of the high priest of Emesa. Arrayed
in his sacerdotal robes, he appeared at the head of a great body
of fanatic peasants, armed only with slings, and defended his god
and his property from the sacrilegious hands of the followers of
Zoroaster. But the ruin of Tarsus, and of many other cities,
furnishes a melancholy proof that, except in this singular
instance, the conquest of Syria and Cilicia scarcely interrupted
the progress of the Persian arms. The advantages of the narrow
passes of Mount Taurus were abandoned, in which an invader, whose
principal force consisted in his cavalry, would have been engaged
in a very unequal combat: and Sapor was permitted to form the
siege of Cæsarea, the capital of Cappadocia; a city, though
of the second rank, which was supposed to contain four hundred
thousand inhabitants. Demosthenes commanded in the place, not so
much by the commission of the emperor, as in the voluntary
defence of his country. For a long time he deferred its fate; and
when at last Cæsarea was betrayed by the perfidy of a
physician, he cut his way through the Persians, who had been
ordered to exert their utmost diligence to take him alive. This
heroic chief escaped the power of a foe who might either have
honored or punished his obstinate valor; but many thousands of
his fellow-citizens were involved in a general massacre, and
Sapor is accused of treating his prisoners with wanton and
unrelenting cruelty. Much should undoubtedly be allowed for
national animosity, much for humbled pride and impotent revenge;
yet, upon the whole, it is certain, that the same prince, who, in
Armenia, had displayed the mild aspect of a legislator, showed
himself to the Romans under the stern features of a conqueror. He
despaired of making any permanent establishment in the empire,
and sought only to leave behind him a wasted desert, whilst he
transported into Persia the people and the treasures of the
provinces.
At the time when the East trembled at the name of Sapor, he
received a present not unworthy of the greatest kings; a long
train of camels, laden with the most rare and valuable
merchandises. The rich offering was accompanied with an epistle,
respectful, but not servile, from Odenathus, one of the noblest
and most opulent senators of Palmyra. "Who is this Odenathus,"
(said the haughty victor, and he commanded that the present
should be cast into the Euphrates,) "that he thus insolently
presumes to write to his lord? If he entertains a hope of
mitigating his punishment, let him fall prostrate before the foot
of our throne, with his hands bound behind his back. Should he
hesitate, swift destruction shall be poured on his head, on his
whole race, and on his country." The desperate extremity to which
the Palmyrenian was reduced, called into action all the latent
powers of his soul. He met Sapor; but he met him in arms.
Infusing his own spirit into a little army collected from the
villages of Syria and the tents of the desert, he hovered round
the Persian host, harassed their retreat, carried off part of the
treasure, and, what was dearer than any treasure, several of the
women of the great king; who was at last obliged to repass the
Euphrates with some marks of haste and confusion. By this
exploit, Odenathus laid the foundations of his future fame and
fortunes. The majesty of Rome, oppressed by a Persian, was
protected by a Syrian or Arab of Palmyra.
The voice of history, which is often little more than the
organ of hatred or flattery, reproaches Sapor with a proud abuse
of the rights of conquest. We are told that Valerian, in chains,
but invested with the Imperial purple, was exposed to the
multitude, a constant spectacle of fallen greatness; and that
whenever the Persian monarch mounted on horseback, he placed his
foot on the neck of a Roman emperor. Notwithstanding all the
remonstrances of his allies, who repeatedly advised him to
remember the vicissitudes of fortune, to dread the returning
power of Rome, and to make his illustrious captive the pledge of
peace, not the object of insult, Sapor still remained inflexible.
When Valerian sunk under the weight of shame and grief, his skin,
stuffed with straw, and formed into the likeness of a human
figure, was preserved for ages in the most celebrated temple of
Persia; a more real monument of triumph, than the fancied
trophies of brass and marble so often erected by Roman vanity.
The tale is moral and pathetic, but the truth of it may very
fairly be called in question. The letters still extant from the
princes of the East to Sapor are manifest forgeries; nor is it
natural to suppose that a jealous monarch should, even in the
person of a rival, thus publicly degrade the majesty of kings.
Whatever treatment the unfortunate Valerian might experience in
Persia, it is at least certain that the only emperor of Rome who
had ever fallen into the hands of the enemy, languished away his
life in hopeless captivity.
The emperor Gallienus, who had long supported with impatience
the censorial severity of his father and colleague, received the
intelligence of his misfortunes with secret pleasure and avowed
indifference. "I knew that my father was a mortal," said he; "and
since he has acted as it becomes a brave man, I am satisfied."
Whilst Rome lamented the fate of her sovereign, the savage
coldness of his son was extolled by the servile courtiers as the
perfect firmness of a hero and a stoic. It is difficult to paint
the light, the various, the inconstant character of Gallienus,
which he displayed without constraint, as soon as he became sole
possessor of the empire. In every art that he attempted, his
lively genius enabled him to succeed; and as his genius was
destitute of judgment, he attempted every art, except the
important ones of war and government. He was a master of several
curious, but useless sciences, a ready orator, an elegant poet, a
skilful gardener, an excellent cook, and most contemptible
prince. When the great emergencies of the state required his
presence and attention, he was engaged in conversation with the
philosopher Plotinus, wasting his time in trifling or licentious
pleasures, preparing his initiation to the Grecian mysteries, or
soliciting a place in the Arcopagus of Athens. His profuse
magnificence insulted the general poverty; the solemn ridicule of
his triumphs impressed a deeper sense of the public disgrace. The
repeated intelligence of invasions, defeats, and rebellions, he
received with a careless smile; and singling out, with affected
contempt, some particular production of the lost province, he
carelessly asked, whether Rome must be ruined, unless it was
supplied with linen from Egypt, and arras cloth from Gaul. There
were, however, a few short moments in the life of Gallienus,
when, exasperated by some recent injury, he suddenly appeared the
intrepid soldier and the cruel tyrant; till, satiated with blood,
or fatigued by resistance, he insensibly sunk into the natural
mildness and indolence of his character.
At the time when the reins of government were held with so
loose a hand, it is not surprising, that a crowd of usurpers
should start up in every province of the empire against the son
of Valerian. It was probably some ingenious fancy, of comparing
the thirty tyrants of Rome with the thirty tyrants of Athens,
that induced the writers of the Augustan History to select that
celebrated number, which has been gradually received into a
popular appellation. But in every light the parallel is idle and
defective. What resemblance can we discover between a council of
thirty persons, the united oppressors of a single city, and an
uncertain list of independent rivals, who rose and fell in
irregular succession through the extent of a vast empire? Nor can
the number of thirty be completed, unless we include in the
account the women and children who were honored with the Imperial
title. The reign of Gallienus, distracted as it was, produced
only nineteen pretenders to the throne: Cyriades, Macrianus,
Balista, Odenathus, and Zenobia, in the East; in Gaul, and the
western provinces, Posthumus, Lollianus, Victorinus, and his
mother Victoria, Marius, and Tetricus; in Illyricum and the
confines of the Danube, Ingenuus, Regillianus, and Aureolus; in
Pontus, Saturninus; in Isauria, Trebellianus; Piso in Thessaly;
Valens in Achaia; Æmilianus in Egypt; and Celsus in Africa.
* To illustrate the obscure monuments of the life and death of
each individual, would prove a laborious task, alike barren of
instruction and of amusement. We may content ourselves with
investigating some general characters, that most strongly mark
the condition of the times, and the manners of the men, their
pretensions, their motives, their fate, and their destructive
consequences of their usurpation.
It is sufficiently known, that the odious appellation of
Tyrant was often employed by the ancients to express the
illegal seizure of supreme power, without any reference to the
abuse of it. Several of the pretenders, who raised the standard
of rebellion against the emperor Gallienus, were shining models
of virtue, and almost all possessed a considerable share of vigor
and ability. Their merit had recommended them to the favor of
Valerian, and gradually promoted them to the most important
commands of the empire. The generals, who assumed the title of
Augustus, were either respected by their troops for their able
conduct and severe discipline, or admired for valor and success
in war, or beloved for frankness and generosity. The field of
victory was often the scene of their election; and even the
armorer Marius, the most contemptible of all the candidates for
the purple, was distinguished, however by intrepid courage,
matchless strength, and blunt honesty. His mean and recent trade
cast, indeed, an air of ridicule on his elevation; * but his
birth could not be more obscure than was that of the greater part
of his rivals, who were born of peasants, and enlisted in the
army as private soldiers. In times of confusion, every active
genius finds the place assigned him by nature: in a general state
of war, military merit is the road to glory and to greatness. Of
the nineteen tyrants Tetricus only was a senator; Piso alone was
a noble. The blood of Numa, through twenty-eight successive
generations, ran in the veins of Calphurnius Piso, who, by female
alliances, claimed a right of exhibiting, in his house, the
images of Crassus and of the great Pompey. His ancestors had been
repeatedly dignified with all the honors which the commonwealth
could bestow; and of all the ancient families of Rome, the
Calphurnian alone had survived the tyranny of the Cæsars.
The personal qualities of Piso added new lustre to his race. The
usurper Valens, by whose order he was killed, confessed, with
deep remorse, that even an enemy ought to have respected the
sanctity of Piso; and although he died in arms against Gallienus,
the senate, with the emperor's generous permission, decreed the
triumphal ornaments to the memory of so virtuous a rebel.
[See Roman Coins: From The British Museum. Number four depicts
Crassus.]
The lieutenants of Valerian were grateful to the father, whom
they esteemed. They disdained to serve the luxurious indolence of
his unworthy son. The throne of the Roman world was unsupported
by any principle of loyalty; and treason against such a prince
might easily be considered as patriotism to the state. Yet if we
examine with candor the conduct of these usurpers, it will
appear, that they were much oftener driven into rebellion by
their fears, than urged to it by their ambition. They dreaded the
cruel suspicions of Gallienus; they equally dreaded the
capricious violence of their troops. If the dangerous favor of
the army had imprudently declared them deserving of the purple,
they were marked for sure destruction; and even prudence would
counsel them to secure a short enjoyment of empire, and rather to
try the fortune of war than to expect the hand of an executioner.
When the clamor of the soldiers invested the reluctant victims
with the ensigns of sovereign authority, they sometimes mourned
in secret their approaching fate. "You have lost," said
Saturninus, on the day of his elevation, "you have lost a useful
commander, and you have made a very wretched emperor."
The apprehensions of Saturninus were justified by the repeated
experience of revolutions. Of the nineteen tyrants who started up
under the reign of Gallienus, there was not one who enjoyed a
life of peace, or a natural death. As soon as they were invested
with the bloody purple, they inspired their adherents with the
same fears and ambition which had occasioned their own revolt.
Encompassed with domestic conspiracy, military sedition, and
civil war, they trembled on the edge of precipices, in which,
after a longer or shorter term of anxiety, they were inevitably
lost. These precarious monarchs received, however, such honors as
the flattery of their respective armies and provinces could
bestow; but their claim, founded on rebellion, could never obtain
the sanction of law or history. Italy, Rome, and the senate,
constantly adhered to the cause of Gallienus, and he alone was
considered as the sovereign of the empire. That prince
condescended, indeed, to acknowledge the victorious arms of
Odenathus, who deserved the honorable distinction, by the
respectful conduct which he always maintained towards the son of
Valerian. With the general applause of the Romans, and the
consent of Gallienus, the senate conferred the title of Augustus
on the brave Palmyrenian; and seemed to intrust him with the
government of the East, which he already possessed, in so
independent a manner, that, like a private succession, he
bequeathed it to his illustrious widow, Zenobia.
The rapid and perpetual transitions from the cottage to the
throne, and from the throne to the grave, might have amused an
indifferent philosopher; were it possible for a philosopher to
remain indifferent amidst the general calamities of human kind.
The election of these precarious emperors, their power and their
death, were equally destructive to their subjects and adherents.
The price of their fatal elevation was instantly discharged to
the troops by an immense donative, drawn from the bowels of the
exhausted people. However virtuous was their character, however
pure their intentions, they found themselves reduced to the hard
necessity of supporting their usurpation by frequent acts of
rapine and cruelty. When they fell, they involved armies and
provinces in their fall. There is still extant a most savage
mandate from Gallienus to one of his ministers, after the
suppression of Ingenuus, who had assumed the purple in Illyricum.
"It is not enough," says that soft but inhuman prince, "that you
exterminate such as have appeared in arms; the chance of battle
might have served me as effectually. The male sex of every age
must be extirpated; provided that, in the execution of the
children and old men, you can contrive means to save our
reputation. Let every one die who has dropped an expression, who
has entertained a thought against me, against me, the son of
Valerian, the father and brother of so many princes. Remember
that Ingenuus was made emperor: tear, kill, hew in pieces. I
write to you with my own hand, and would inspire you with my own
feelings." Whilst the public forces of the state were dissipated
in private quarrels, the defenceless provinces lay exposed to
every invader. The bravest usurpers were compelled, by the
perplexity of their situation, to conclude ignominious treaties
with the common enemy, to purchase with oppressive tributes the
neutrality or services of the Barbarians, and to introduce
hostile and independent nations into the heart of the Roman
monarchy.
Such were the barbarians, and such the tyrants, who, under the
reigns of Valerian and Gallienus, dismembered the provinces, and
reduced the empire to the lowest pitch of disgrace and ruin, from
whence it seemed impossible that it should ever emerge. As far as
the barrenness of materials would permit, we have attempted to
trace, with order and perspicuity, the general events of that
calamitous period. There still remain some particular facts; I.
The disorders of Sicily; II. The tumults of Alexandria; and, III.
The rebellion of the Isaurians, which may serve to reflect a
strong light on the horrid picture.
I. Whenever numerous troops of banditti, multiplied by success
and impunity, publicly defy, instead of eluding the justice of
their country, we may safely infer, that the excessive weakness
of the government is felt and abused by the lowest ranks of the
community. The situation of Sicily preserved it from the
Barbarians; nor could the disarmed province have supported a
usurper. The sufferings of that once flourishing and still
fertile island were inflicted by baser hands. A licentious crowd
of slaves and peasants reigned for a while over the plundered
country, and renewed the memory of the servile wars of more
ancient times. Devastations, of which the husbandman was either
the victim or the accomplice, must have ruined the agriculture of
Sicily; and as the principal estates were the property of the
opulent senators of Rome, who often enclosed within a farm the
territory of an old republic, it is not improbable, that this
private injury might affect the capital more deeply, than all the
conquests of the Goths or the Persians.
II. The foundation of Alexandria was a noble design, at once
conceived and executed by the son of Philip. The beautiful and
regular form of that great city, second only to Rome itself,
comprehended a circumference of fifteen miles; it was peopled by
three hundred thousand free inhabitants, besides at least an
equal number of slaves. The lucrative trade of Arabia and India
flowed through the port of Alexandria, to the capital and
provinces of the empire. * Idleness was unknown. Some were
employed in blowing of glass, others in weaving of linen, others
again manufacturing the papyrus. Either sex, and every age, was
engaged in the pursuits of industry, nor did even the blind or
the lame want occupations suited to their condition. But the
people of Alexandria, a various mixture of nations, united the
vanity and inconstancy of the Greeks with the superstition and
obstinacy of the Egyptians. The most trifling occasion, a
transient scarcity of flesh or lentils, the neglect of an
accustomed salutation, a mistake of precedency in the public
baths, or even a religious dispute, were at any time sufficient
to kindle a sedition among that vast multitude, whose resentments
were furious and implacable. After the captivity of Valerian and
the insolence of his son had relaxed the authority of the laws,
the Alexandrians abandoned themselves to the ungoverned rage of
their passions, and their unhappy country was the theatre of a
civil war, which continued (with a few short and suspicious
truces) above twelve years. All intercourse was cut off between
the several quarters of the afflicted city, every street was
polluted with blood, every building of strength converted into a
citadel; nor did the tumults subside till a considerable part of
Alexandria was irretrievably ruined. The spacious and magnificent
district of Bruchion, * with its palaces and musæum, the
residence of the kings and philosophers of Egypt, is described
above a century afterwards, as already reduced to its present
state of dreary solitude.
III. The obscure rebellion of Trebellianus, who assumed the
purple in Isauria, a petty province of Asia Minor, was attended
with strange and memorable consequences. The pageant of royalty
was soon destroyed by an officer of Gallienus; but his followers,
despairing of mercy, resolved to shake off their allegiance, not
only to the emperor, but to the empire, and suddenly returned to
the savage manners from which they had never perfectly been
reclaimed. Their craggy rocks, a branch of the wide-extended
Taurus, protected their inaccessible retreat. The tillage of some
fertile valleys supplied them with necessaries, and a habit of
rapine with the luxuries of life. In the heart of the Roman
monarchy, the Isaurians long continued a nation of wild
barbarians. Succeeding princes, unable to reduce them to
obedience, either by arms or policy, were compelled to
acknowledge their weakness, by surrounding the hostile and
independent spot with a strong chain of fortifications, which
often proved insufficient to restrain the incursions of these
domestic foes. The Isaurians, gradually extending their territory
to the sea-coast, subdued the western and mountainous part of
Cilicia, formerly the nest of those daring pirates, against whom
the republic had once been obliged to exert its utmost force,
under the conduct of the great Pompey.
Our habits of thinking so fondly connect the order of the
universe with the fate of man, that this gloomy period of history
has been decorated with inundations, earthquakes, uncommon
meteors, preternatural darkness, and a crowd of prodigies
fictitious or exaggerated. But a long and general famine was a
calamity of a more serious kind. It was the inevitable
consequence of rapine and oppression, which extirpated the
produce of the present, and the hope of future harvests. Famine
is almost always followed by epidemical diseases, the effect of
scanty and unwholesome food. Other causes must, however, have
contributed to the furious plague, which, from the year two
hundred and fifty to the year two hundred and sixty-five, raged
without interruption in every province, every city, and almost
every family, of the Roman empire. During some time five thousand
persons died daily in Rome; and many towns, that had escaped the
hands of the Barbarians, were entirely depopulated.
We have the knowledge of a very curious circumstance, of some
use perhaps in the melancholy calculation of human calamities. An
exact register was kept at Alexandria of all the citizens
entitled to receive the distribution of corn. It was found, that
the ancient number of those comprised between the ages of forty
and seventy, had been equal to the whole sum of claimants, from
fourteen to fourscore years of age, who remained alive after the
reign of Gallienus. Applying this authentic fact to the most
correct tables of mortality, it evidently proves, that above half
the people of Alexandria had perished; and could we venture to
extend the analogy to the other provinces, we might suspect, that
war, pestilence, and famine, had consumed, in a few years, the
moiety of the human species.
Chapter XI: Reign Of Claudius, Defeat Of The Goths.
Part I.
Reign Of Claudius. -- Defeat Of The Goths. -- Victories,
Triumph, And Death Of Aurelian.
Under the deplorable reigns of Valerian and Gallienus, the
empire was oppressed and almost destroyed by the soldiers, the
tyrants, and the barbarians. It was saved by a series of great
princes, who derived their obscure origin from the martial
provinces of Illyricum. Within a period of about thirty years,
Claudius, Aurelian, Probus, Diocletian and his colleagues,
triumphed over the foreign and domestic enemies of the state,
reestablished, with the military discipline, the strength of the
frontiers, and deserved the glorious title of Restorers of the
Roman world.
The removal of an effeminate tyrant made way for a succession
of heroes. The indignation of the people imputed all their
calamities to Gallienus, and the far greater part were indeed,
the consequence of his dissolute manners and careless
administration. He was even destitute of a sense of honor, which
so frequently supplies the absence of public virtue; and as long
as he was permitted to enjoy the possession of Italy, a victory
of the barbarians, the loss of a province, or the rebellion of a
general, seldom disturbed the tranquil course of his pleasures.
At length, a considerable army, stationed on the Upper Danube,
invested with the Imperial purple their leader Aureolus; who,
disdaining a confined and barren reign over the mountains of
Rhætia, passed the Alps, occupied Milan, threatened Rome,
and challenged Gallienus to dispute in the field the sovereignty
of Italy. The emperor, provoked by the insult, and alarmed by the
instant danger, suddenly exerted that latent vigor which
sometimes broke through the indolence of his temper. Forcing
himself from the luxury of the palace, he appeared in arms at the
head of his legions, and advanced beyond the Po to encounter his
competitor. The corrupted name of Pontirolo still preserves the
memory of a bridge over the Adda, which, during the action, must
have proved an object of the utmost importance to both armies.
The Rhætian usurper, after receiving a total defeat and a
dangerous wound, retired into Milan. The siege of that great city
was immediately formed; the walls were battered with every engine
in use among the ancients; and Aureolus, doubtful of his internal
strength, and hopeless of foreign succors already anticipated the
fatal consequences of unsuccessful rebellion.
His last resource was an attempt to seduce the loyalty of the
besiegers. He scattered libels through the camp, inviting the
troops to desert an unworthy master, who sacrificed the public
happiness to his luxury, and the lives of his most valuable
subjects to the slightest suspicions. The arts of Aureolus
diffused fears and discontent among the principal officers of his
rival. A conspiracy was formed by Heraclianus the Prætorian
præfect, by Marcian, a general of rank and reputation, and
by Cecrops, who commanded a numerous body of Dalmatian guards.
The death of Gallienus was resolved; and notwithstanding their
desire of first terminating the siege of Milan, the extreme
danger which accompanied every moment's delay obliged them to
hasten the execution of their daring purpose. At a late hour of
the night, but while the emperor still protracted the pleasures
of the table, an alarm was suddenly given, that Aureolus, at the
head of all his forces, had made a desperate sally from the town;
Gallienus, who was never deficient in personal bravery, started
from his silken couch, and without allowing himself time either
to put on his armor, or to assemble his guards, he mounted on
horseback, and rode full speed towards the supposed place of the
attack. Encompassed by his declared or concealed enemies, he
soon, amidst the nocturnal tumult, received a mortal dart from an
uncertain hand. Before he expired, a patriotic sentiment using in
the mind of Gallienus, induced him to name a deserving successor;
and it was his last request, that the Imperial ornaments should
be delivered to Claudius, who then commanded a detached army in
the neighborhood of Pavia. The report at least was diligently
propagated, and the order cheerfully obeyed by the conspirators,
who had already agreed to place Claudius on the throne. On the
first news of the emperor's death, the troops expressed some
suspicion and resentment, till the one was removed, and the other
assuaged, by a donative of twenty pieces of gold to each soldier.
They then ratified the election, and acknowledged the merit of
their new sovereign.
The obscurity which covered the origin of Claudius, though it
was afterwards embellished by some flattering fictions,
sufficiently betrays the meanness of his birth. We can only
discover that he was a native of one of the provinces bordering
on the Danube; that his youth was spent in arms, and that his
modest valor attracted the favor and confidence of Decius. The
senate and people already considered him as an excellent officer,
equal to the most important trusts; and censured the inattention
of Valerian, who suffered him to remain in the subordinate
station of a tribune. But it was not long before that emperor
distinguished the merit of Claudius, by declaring him general and
chief of the Illyrian frontier, with the command of all the
troops in Thrace, Mæsia, Dacia, Pannonia, and Dalmatia, the
appointments of the præfect of Egypt, the establishment of
the proconsul of Africa, and the sure prospect of the consulship.
By his victories over the Goths, he deserved from the senate the
honor of a statue, and excited the jealous apprehensions of
Gallienus. It was impossible that a soldier could esteem so
dissolute a sovereign, nor is it easy to conceal a just contempt.
Some unguarded expressions which dropped from Claudius were
officiously transmitted to the royal ear. The emperor's answer to
an officer of confidence describes in very lively colors his own
character, and that of the times. "There is not any thing capable
of giving me more serious concern, than the intelligence
contained in your last despatch; that some malicious suggestions
have indisposed towards us the mind of our friend and parent
Claudius. As you regard your allegiance, use every means to
appease his resentment, but conduct your negotiation with
secrecy; let it not reach the knowledge of the Dacian troops;
they are already provoked, and it might inflame their fury. I
myself have sent him some presents: be it your care that he
accept them with pleasure. Above all, let him not suspect that I
am made acquainted with his imprudence. The fear of my anger
might urge him to desperate counsels." The presents which
accompanied this humble epistle, in which the monarch solicited a
reconciliation with his discontented subject, consisted of a
considerable sum of money, a splendid wardrobe, and a valuable
service of silver and gold plate. By such arts Gallienus softened
the indignation and dispelled the fears of his Illyrian general;
and during the remainder of that reign, the formidable sword of
Claudius was always drawn in the cause of a master whom he
despised. At last, indeed, he received from the conspirators the
bloody purple of Gallienus: but he had been absent from their
camp and counsels; and however he might applaud the deed, we may
candidly presume that he was innocent of the knowledge of it.
When Claudius ascended the throne, he was about fifty-four years
of age.
The siege of Milan was still continued, and Aureolus soon
discovered that the success of his artifices had only raised up a
more determined adversary. He attempted to negotiate with
Claudius a treaty of alliance and partition. "Tell him," replied
the intrepid emperor, "that such proposals should have been made
to Gallienus; he, perhaps, might have listened to them
with patience, and accepted a colleague as despicable as
himself." This stern refusal, and a last unsuccessful effort,
obliged Aureolus to yield the city and himself to the discretion
of the conqueror. The judgment of the army pronounced him worthy
of death; and Claudius, after a feeble resistance, consented to
the execution of the sentence. Nor was the zeal of the senate
less ardent in the cause of their new sovereign. They ratified,
perhaps with a sincere transport of zeal, the election of
Claudius; and, as his predecessor had shown himself the personal
enemy of their order, they exercised, under the name of justice,
a severe revenge against his friends and family. The senate was
permitted to discharge the ungrateful office of punishment, and
the emperor reserved for himself the pleasure and merit of
obtaining by his intercession a general act of indemnity.
Such ostentatious clemency discovers less of the real
character of Claudius, than a trifling circumstance in which he
seems to have consulted only the dictates of his heart. The
frequent rebellions of the provinces had involved almost every
person in the guilt of treason, almost every estate in the case
of confiscation; and Gallienus often displayed his liberality by
distributing among his officers the property of his subjects. On
the accession of Claudius, an old woman threw herself at his
feet, and complained that a general of the late emperor had
obtained an arbitrary grant of her patrimony. This general was
Claudius himself, who had not entirely escaped the contagion of
the times. The emperor blushed at the reproach, but deserved the
confidence which she had reposed in his equity. The confession of
his fault was accompanied with immediate and ample
restitution.
In the arduous task which Claudius had undertaken, of
restoring the empire to its ancient splendor, it was first
necessary to revive among his troops a sense of order and
obedience. With the authority of a veteran commander, he
represented to them that the relaxation of discipline had
introduced a long train of disorders, the effects of which were
at length experienced by the soldiers themselves; that a people
ruined by oppression, and indolent from despair, could no longer
supply a numerous army with the means of luxury, or even of
subsistence; that the danger of each individual had increased
with the despotism of the military order, since princes who
tremble on the throne will guard their safety by the instant
sacrifice of every obnoxious subject. The emperor expiated on the
mischiefs of a lawless caprice, which the soldiers could only
gratify at the expense of their own blood; as their seditious
elections had so frequently been followed by civil wars, which
consumed the flower of the legions either in the field of battle,
or in the cruel abuse of victory. He painted in the most lively
colors the exhausted state of the treasury, the desolation of the
provinces, the disgrace of the Roman name, and the insolent
triumph of rapacious barbarians. It was against those barbarians,
he declared, that he intended to point the first effort of their
arms. Tetricus might reign for a while over the West, and even
Zenobia might preserve the dominion of the East. These usurpers
were his personal adversaries; nor could he think of indulging
any private resentment till he had saved an empire, whose
impending ruin would, unless it was timely prevented, crush both
the army and the people.
The various nations of Germany and Sarmatia, who fought under
the Gothic standard, had already collected an armament more
formidable than any which had yet issued from the Euxine. On the
banks of the Niester, one of the great rivers that discharge
themselves into that sea, they constructed a fleet of two
thousand, or even of six thousand vessels; numbers which, however
incredible they may seem, would have been insufficient to
transport their pretended army of three hundred and twenty
thousand barbarians. Whatever might be the real strength of the
Goths, the vigor and success of the expedition were not adequate
to the greatness of the preparations. In their passage through
the Bosphorus, the unskilful pilots were overpowered by the
violence of the current; and while the multitude of their ships
were crowded in a narrow channel, many were dashed against each
other, or against the shore. The barbarians made several descents
on the coasts both of Europe and Asia; but the open country was
already plundered, and they were repulsed with shame and loss
from the fortified cities which they assaulted. A spirit of
discouragement and division arose in the fleet, and some of their
chiefs sailed away towards the islands of Crete and Cyprus; but
the main body, pursuing a more steady course, anchored at length
near the foot of Mount Athos, and assaulted the city of
Thessalonica, the wealthy capital of all the Macedonian
provinces. Their attacks, in which they displayed a fierce but
artless bravery, were soon interrupted by the rapid approach of
Claudius, hastening to a scene of action that deserved the
presence of a warlike prince at the head of the remaining powers
of the empire. Impatient for battle, the Goths immediately broke
up their camp, relinquished the siege of Thessalonica, left their
navy at the foot of Mount Athos, traversed the hills of
Macedonia, and pressed forwards to engage the last defence of
Italy.
We still posses an original letter addressed by Claudius to
the senate and people on this memorable occasion. "Conscript
fathers," says the emperor, "know that three hundred and twenty
thousand Goths have invaded the Roman territory. If I vanquish
them, your gratitude will reward my services. Should I fall,
remember that I am the successor of Gallienus. The whole republic
is fatigued and exhausted. We shall fight after Valerian, after
Ingenuus, Regillianus, Lollianus, Posthumus, Celsus, and a
thousand others, whom a just contempt for Gallienus provoked into
rebellion. We are in want of darts, of spears, and of shields.
The strength of the empire, Gaul, and Spain, are usurped by
Tetricus, and we blush to acknowledge that the archers of the
East serve under the banners of Zenobia. Whatever we shall
perform will be sufficiently great." The melancholy firmness of
this epistle announces a hero careless of his fate, conscious of
his danger, but still deriving a well-grounded hope from the
resources of his own mind.
The event surpassed his own expectations and those of the
world. By the most signal victories he delivered the empire from
this host of barbarians, and was distinguished by posterity under
the glorious appellation of the Gothic Claudius. The imperfect
historians of an irregular war do not enable as to describe the
order and circumstances of his exploits; but, if we could be
indulged in the allusion, we might distribute into three acts
this memorable tragedy. I. The decisive battle was fought near
Naissus, a city of Dardania. The legions at first gave way,
oppressed by numbers, and dismayed by misfortunes. Their ruin was
inevitable, had not the abilities of their emperor prepared a
seasonable relief. A large detachment, rising out of the secret
and difficult passes of the mountains, which, by his order, they
had occupied, suddenly assailed the rear of the victorious Goths.
The favorable instant was improved by the activity of Claudius.
He revived the courage of his troops, restored their ranks, and
pressed the barbarians on every side. Fifty thousand men are
reported to have been slain in the battle of Naissus. Several
large bodies of barbarians, covering their retreat with a movable
fortification of wagons, retired, or rather escaped, from the
field of slaughter. II. We may presume that some insurmountable
difficulty, the fatigue, perhaps, or the disobedience, of the
conquerors, prevented Claudius from completing in one day the
destruction of the Goths. The war was diffused over the province
of Mæsia, Thrace, and Macedonia, and its operations drawn
out into a variety of marches, surprises, and tumultuary
engagements, as well by sea as by land. When the Romans suffered
any loss, it was commonly occasioned by their own cowardice or
rashness; but the superior talents of the emperor, his perfect
knowledge of the country, and his judicious choice of measures as
well as officers, assured on most occasions the success of his
arms. The immense booty, the fruit of so many victories,
consisted for the greater part of cattle and slaves. A select
body of the Gothic youth was received among the Imperial troops;
the remainder was sold into servitude; and so considerable was
the number of female captives, that every soldier obtained to his
share two or three women. A circumstance from which we may
conclude, that the invaders entertained some designs of
settlement as well as of plunder; since even in a naval
expedition, they were accompanied by their families. III. The
loss of their fleet, which was either taken or sunk, had
intercepted the retreat of the Goths. A vast circle of Roman
posts, distributed with skill, supported with firmness, and
gradually closing towards a common centre, forced the barbarians
into the most inaccessible parts of Mount Hæmus, where they
found a safe refuge, but a very scanty subsistence. During the
course of a rigorous winter in which they were besieged by the
emperor's troops, famine and pestilence, desertion and the sword,
continually diminished the imprisoned multitude. On the return of
spring, nothing appeared in arms except a hardy and desperate
band, the remnant of that mighty host which had embarked at the
mouth of the Niester.
The pestilence which swept away such numbers of the
barbarians, at length proved fatal to their conqueror. After a
short but glorious reign of two years, Claudius expired at
Sirmium, amidst the tears and acclamations of his subjects. In
his last illness, he convened the principal officers of the state
and army, and in their presence recommended Aurelian, one of his
generals, as the most deserving of the throne, and the best
qualified to execute the great design which he himself had been
permitted only to undertake. The virtues of Claudius, his valor,
affability, justice, and temperance, his love of fame and of his
country, place him in that short list of emperors who added
lustre to the Roman purple. Those virtues, however, were
celebrated with peculiar zeal and complacency by the courtly
writers of the age of Constantine, who was the great grandson of
Crispus, the elder brother of Claudius. The voice of flattery was
soon taught to repeat, that gods, who so hastily had snatched
Claudius from the earth, rewarded his merit and piety by the
perpetual establishment of the empire in his family.
Notwithstanding these oracles, the greatness of the Flavian
family (a name which it had pleased them to assume) was deferred
above twenty years, and the elevation of Claudius occasioned the
immediate ruin of his brother Quintilius, who possessed not
sufficient moderation or courage to descend into the private
station to which the patriotism of the late emperor had condemned
him. Without delay or reflection, he assumed the purple at
Aquileia, where he commanded a considerable force; and though his
reign lasted only seventeen days, * he had time to obtain the
sanction of the senate, and to experience a mutiny of the troops.
As soon as he was informed that the great army of the Danube had
invested the well-known valor of Aurelian with Imperial power, he
sunk under the fame and merit of his rival; and ordering his
veins to be opened, prudently withdrew himself from the unequal
contest.
The general design of this work will not permit us minutely to
relate the actions of every emperor after he ascended the throne,
much less to deduce the various fortunes of his private life. We
shall only observe, that the father of Aurelian was a peasant of
the territory of Sirmium, who occupied a small farm, the property
of Aurelius, a rich senator. His warlike son enlisted in the
troops as a common soldier, successively rose to the rank of a
centurion, a tribune, the præfect of a legion, the
inspector of the camp, the general, or, as it was then called,
the duke, of a frontier; and at length, during the Gothic war,
exercised the important office of commander-in-chief of the
cavalry. In every station he distinguished himself by matchless
valor, rigid discipline, and successful conduct. He was invested
with the consulship by the emperor Valerian, who styles him, in
the pompous language of that age, the deliverer of Illyricum, the
restorer of Gaul, and the rival of the Scipios. At the
recommendation of Valerian, a senator of the highest rank and
merit, Ulpius Crinitus, whose blood was derived from the same
source as that of Trajan, adopted the Pannonian peasant, gave him
his daughter in marriage, and relieved with his ample fortune the
honorable poverty which Aurelian had preserved inviolate.
The reign of Aurelian lasted only four years and about nine
months; but every instant of that short period was filled by some
memorable achievement. He put an end to the Gothic war, chastised
the Germans who invaded Italy, recovered Gaul, Spain, and Britain
out of the hands of Tetricus, and destroyed the proud monarchy
which Zenobia had erected in the East on the ruins of the
afflicted empire.
It was the rigid attention of Aurelian, even to the minutest
articles of discipline, which bestowed such uninterrupted success
on his arms. His military regulations are contained in a very
concise epistle to one of his inferior officers, who is commanded
to enforce them, as he wishes to become a tribune, or as he is
desirous to live. Gaming, drinking, and the arts of divination,
were severely prohibited. Aurelian expected that his soldiers
should be modest, frugal, and laborous; that their armor should
be constantly kept bright, their weapons sharp, their clothing
and horses ready for immediate service; that they should live in
their quarters with chastity and sobriety, without damaging the
cornfields, without stealing even a sheep, a fowl, or a bunch of
grapes, without exacting from their landlords, either salt, or
oil, or wood. "The public allowance," continues the emperor, "is
sufficient for their support; their wealth should be collected
from the spoils of the enemy, not from the tears of the
provincials." A single instance will serve to display the rigor,
and even cruelty, of Aurelian. One of the soldiers had seduced
the wife of his host. The guilty wretch was fastened to two trees
forcibly drawn towards each other, and his limbs were torn
asunder by their sudden separation. A few such examples impressed
a salutary consternation. The punishments of Aurelian were
terrible; but he had seldom occasion to punish more than once the
same offence. His own conduct gave a sanction to his laws, and
the seditious legions dreaded a chief who had learned to obey,
and who was worthy to command.
Chapter XI: Reign Of Claudius, Defeat Of The
Goths. -- Part II.
The death of Claudius had revived the fainting spirit of the
Goths. The troops which guarded the passes of Mount Hæmus,
and the banks of the Danube, had been drawn away by the
apprehension of a civil war; and it seems probable that the
remaining body of the Gothic and Vandalic tribes embraced the
favorable opportunity, abandoned their settlements of the
Ukraine, traversed the rivers, and swelled with new multitudes
the destroying host of their countrymen. Their united numbers
were at length encountered by Aurelian, and the bloody and
doubtful conflict ended only with the approach of night.
Exhausted by so many calamities, which they had mutually endured
and inflicted during a twenty years' war, the Goths and the
Romans consented to a lasting and beneficial treaty. It was
earnestly solicited by the barbarians, and cheerfully ratified by
the legions, to whose suffrage the prudence of Aurelian referred
the decision of that important question. The Gothic nation
engaged to supply the armies of Rome with a body of two thousand
auxiliaries, consisting entirely of cavalry, and stipulated in
return an undisturbed retreat, with a regular market as far as
the Danube, provided by the emperor's care, but at their own
expense. The treaty was observed with such religious fidelity,
that when a party of five hundred men straggled from the camp in
quest of plunder, the king or general of the barbarians commanded
that the guilty leader should be apprehended and shot to death
with darts, as a victim devoted to the sanctity of their
engagements. * It is, however, not unlikely, that the precaution
of Aurelian, who had exacted as hostages the sons and daughters
of the Gothic chiefs, contributed something to this pacific
temper. The youths he trained in the exercise of arms, and near
his own person: to the damsels he gave a liberal and Roman
education, and by bestowing them in marriage on some of his
principal officers, gradually introduced between the two nations
the closest and most endearing connections.
But the most important condition of peace was understood
rather than expressed in the treaty. Aurelian withdrew the Roman
forces from Dacia, and tacitly relinquished that great province
to the Goths and Vandals. His manly judgment convinced him of the
solid advantages, and taught him to despise the seeming disgrace,
of thus contracting the frontiers of the monarchy. The Dacian
subjects, removed from those distant possessions which they were
unable to cultivate or defend, added strength and populousness to
the southern side of the Danube. A fertile territory, which the
repetition of barbarous inroads had changed into a desert, was
yielded to their industry, and a new province of Dacia still
preserved the memory of Trajan's conquests. The old country of
that name detained, however, a considerable number of its
inhabitants, who dreaded exile more than a Gothic master. These
degenerate Romans continued to serve the empire, whose allegiance
they had renounced, by introducing among their conquerors the
first notions of agriculture, the useful arts, and the
conveniences of civilized life. An intercourse of commerce and
language was gradually established between the opposite banks of
the Danube; and after Dacia became an independent state, it often
proved the firmest barrier of the empire against the invasions of
the savages of the North. A sense of interest attached these more
settled barbarians to the alliance of Rome, and a permanent
interest very frequently ripens into sincere and useful
friendship. This various colony, which filled the ancient
province, and was insensibly blended into one great people, still
acknowledged the superior renown and authority of the Gothic
tribe, and claimed the fancied honor of a Scandinavian origin. At
the same time, the lucky though accidental resemblance of the
name of Getæ, * infused among the credulous Goths a vain
persuasion, that in a remote age, their own ancestors, already
seated in the Dacian provinces, had received the instructions of
Zamolxis, and checked the victorious arms of Sesostris and
Darius.
While the vigorous and moderate conduct of Aurelian restored
the Illyrian frontier, the nation of the Alemanni violated the
conditions of peace, which either Gallienus had purchased, or
Claudius had imposed, and, inflamed by their impatient youth,
suddenly flew to arms. Forty thousand horse appeared in the
field, and the numbers of the infantry doubled those of the
cavalry. The first objects of their avarice were a few cities of
the Rhætian frontier; but their hopes soon rising with
success, the rapid march of the Alemanni traced a line of
devastation from the Danube to the Po.
The emperor was almost at the same time informed of the
irruption, and of the retreat, of the barbarians. Collecting an
active body of troops, he marched with silence and celerity along
the skirts of the Hercynian forest; and the Alemanni, laden with
the spoils of Italy, arrived at the Danube, without suspecting,
that on the opposite bank, and in an advantageous post, a Roman
army lay concealed and prepared to intercept their return.
Aurelian indulged the fatal security of the barbarians, and
permitted about half their forces to pass the river without
disturbance and without precaution. Their situation and
astonishment gave him an easy victory; his skilful conduct
improved the advantage. Disposing the legions in a semicircular
form, he advanced the two horns of the crescent across the
Danube, and wheeling them on a sudden towards the centre,
enclosed the rear of the German host. The dismayed barbarians, on
whatsoever side they cast their eyes, beheld, with despair, a
wasted country, a deep and rapid stream, a victorious and
implacable enemy.
Reduced to this distressed condition, the Alemanni no longer
disdained to sue for peace. Aurelian received their ambassadors
at the head of his camp, and with every circumstance of martial
pomp that could display the greatness and discipline of Rome. The
legions stood to their arms in well-ordered ranks and awful
silence. The principal commanders, distinguished by the ensigns
of their rank, appeared on horseback on either side of the
Imperial throne. Behind the throne the consecrated images of the
emperor, and his predecessors, the golden eagles, and the various
titles of the legions, engraved in letters of gold, were exalted
in the air on lofty pikes covered with silver. When Aurelian
assumed his seat, his manly grace and majestic figure taught the
barbarians to revere the person as well as the purple of their
conqueror. The ambassadors fell prostrate on the ground in
silence. They were commanded to rise, and permitted to speak. By
the assistance of interpreters they extenuated their perfidy,
magnified their exploits, expatiated on the vicissitudes of
fortune and the advantages of peace, and, with an ill-timed
confidence, demanded a large subsidy, as the price of the
alliance which they offered to the Romans. The answer of the
emperor was stern and imperious. He treated their offer with
contempt, and their demand with indignation, reproached the
barbarians, that they were as ignorant of the arts of war as of
the laws of peace, and finally dismissed them with the choice
only of submitting to this unconditional mercy, or awaiting the
utmost severity of his resentment. Aurelian had resigned a
distant province to the Goths; but it was dangerous to trust or
to pardon these perfidious barbarians, whose formidable power
kept Italy itself in perpetual alarms.
Immediately after this conference, it should seem that some
unexpected emergency required the emperor's presence in Pannonia.
He devolved on his lieutenants the care of finishing the
destruction of the Alemanni, either by the sword, or by the surer
operation of famine. But an active despair has often triumphed
over the indolent assurance of success. The barbarians, finding
it impossible to traverse the Danube and the Roman camp, broke
through the posts in their rear, which were more feebly or less
carefully guarded; and with incredible diligence, but by a
different road, returned towards the mountains of Italy.
Aurelian, who considered the war as totally extinguished,
received the mortifying intelligence of the escape of the
Alemanni, and of the ravage which they already committed in the
territory of Milan. The legions were commanded to follow, with as
much expedition as those heavy bodies were capable of exerting,
the rapid flight of an enemy whose infantry and cavalry moved
with almost equal swiftness. A few days afterwards, the emperor
himself marched to the relief of Italy, at the head of a chosen
body of auxiliaries, (among whom were the hostages and cavalry of
the Vandals,) and of all the Prætorian guards who had
served in the wars on the Danube.
As the light troops of the Alemanni had spread themselves from
the Alps to the Apennine, the incessant vigilance of Aurelian and
his officers was exercised in the discovery, the attack, and the
pursuit of the numerous detachments. Notwithstanding this
desultory war, three considerable battles are mentioned, in which
the principal force of both armies was obstinately engaged. The
success was various. In the first, fought near Placentia, the
Romans received so severe a blow, that, according to the
expression of a writer extremely partial to Aurelian, the
immediate dissolution of the empire was apprehended. The crafty
barbarians, who had lined the woods, suddenly attacked the
legions in the dusk of the evening, and, it is most probable,
after the fatigue and disorder of a long march. The fury of their
charge was irresistible; but, at length, after a dreadful
slaughter, the patient firmness of the emperor rallied his
troops, and restored, in some degree, the honor of his arms. The
second battle was fought near Fano in Umbria; on the spot which,
five hundred years before, had been fatal to the brother of
Hannibal. Thus far the successful Germans had advanced along the
Æmilian and Flaminian way, with a design of sacking the
defenceless mistress of the world. But Aurelian, who, watchful
for the safety of Rome, still hung on their rear, found in this
place the decisive moment of giving them a total and
irretrievable defeat. The flying remnant of their host was
exterminated in a third and last battle near Pavia; and Italy was
delivered from the inroads of the Alemanni.
Fear has been the original parent of superstition, and every
new calamity urges trembling mortals to deprecate the wrath of
their invisible enemies. Though the best hope of the republic was
in the valor and conduct of Aurelian, yet such was the public
consternation, when the barbarians were hourly expected at the
gates of Rome, that, by a decree of the senate the Sibylline
books were consulted. Even the emperor himself from a motive
either of religion or of policy, recommended this salutary
measure, chided the tardiness of the senate, and offered to
supply whatever expense, whatever animals, whatever captives of
any nation, the gods should require. Notwithstanding this liberal
offer, it does not appear, that any human victims expiated with
their blood the sins of the Roman people. The Sibylline books
enjoined ceremonies of a more harmless nature, processions of
priests in white robes, attended by a chorus of youths and
virgins; lustrations of the city and adjacent country; and
sacrifices, whose powerful influence disabled the barbarians from
passing the mystic ground on which they had been celebrated.
However puerile in themselves, these superstitious arts were
subservient to the success of the war; and if, in the decisive
battle of Fano, the Alemanni fancied they saw an army of spectres
combating on the side of Aurelian, he received a real and
effectual aid from this imaginary reenforcement.
But whatever confidence might be placed in ideal ramparts, the
experience of the past, and the dread of the future, induced the
Romans to construct fortifications of a grosser and more
substantial kind. The seven hills of Rome had been surrounded, by
the successors of Romulus, with an ancient wall of more than
thirteen miles. The vast enclosure may seem disproportioned to
the strength and numbers of the infant state. But it was
necessary to secure an ample extent of pasture and arable land,
against the frequent and sudden incursions of the tribes of
Latium, the perpetual enemies of the republic. With the progress
of Roman greatness, the city and its inhabitants gradually
increased, filled up the vacant space, pierced through the
useless walls, covered the field of Mars, and, on every side,
followed the public highways in long and beautiful suburbs. The
extent of the new walls, erected by Aurelian, and finished in the
reign of Probus, was magnified by popular estimation to near
fifty, but is reduced by accurate measurement to about twenty-one
miles. It was a great but a melancholy labor, since the defence
of the capital betrayed the decline of the monarchy. The Romans
of a more prosperous age, who trusted to the arms of the legions
the safety of the frontier camps, were very far from entertaining
a suspicion, that it would ever become necessary to fortify the
seat of empire against the inroads of the barbarians.
The victory of Claudius over the Goths, and the success of
Aurelian against the Alemanni, had already restored to the arms
of Rome their ancient superiority over the barbarous nations of
the North. To chastise domestic tyrants, and to reunite the
dismembered parts of the empire, was a task reserved for the
second of those warlike emperors. Though he was acknowledged by
the senate and people, the frontiers of Italy, Africa, Illyricum,
and Thrace, confined the limits of his reign. Gaul, Spain, and
Britain, Egypt, Syria, and Asia Minor, were still possessed by
two rebels, who alone, out of so numerous a list, had hitherto
escaped the dangers of their situation; and to complete the
ignominy of Rome, these rival thrones had been usurped by
women.
A rapid succession of monarchs had arisen and fallen in the
provinces of Gaul. The rigid virtues of Posthumus served only to
hasten his destruction. After suppressing a competitor, who had
assumed the purple at Mentz, he refused to gratify his troops
with the plunder of the rebellious city; and in the seventh year
of his reign, became the victim of their disappointed avarice.
The death of Victorinus, his friend and associate, was occasioned
by a less worthy cause. The shining accomplishments of that
prince were stained by a licentious passion, which he indulged in
acts of violence, with too little regard to the laws of society,
or even to those of love. He was slain at Cologne, by a
conspiracy of jealous husbands, whose revenge would have appeared
more justifiable, had they spared the innocence of his son. After
the murder of so many valiant princes, it is somewhat remarkable,
that a female for a long time controlled the fierce legions of
Gaul, and still more singular, that she was the mother of the
unfortunate Victorinus. The arts and treasures of Victoria
enabled her successively to place Marius and Tetricus on the
throne, and to reign with a manly vigor under the name of those
dependent emperors. Money of copper, of silver, and of gold, was
coined in her name; she assumed the titles of Augusta and Mother
of the Camps: her power ended only with her life; but her life
was perhaps shortened by the ingratitude of Tetricus.
When, at the instigation of his ambitious patroness, Tetricus
assumed the ensigns of royalty, he was governor of the peaceful
province of Aquitaine, an employment suited to his character and
education. He reigned four or five years over Gaul, Spain, and
Britain, the slave and sovereign of a licentious army, whom he
dreaded, and by whom he was despised. The valor and fortune of
Aurelian at length opened the prospect of a deliverance. He
ventured to disclose his melancholy situation, and conjured the
emperor to hasten to the relief of his unhappy rival. Had this
secret correspondence reached the ears of the soldiers, it would
most probably have cost Tetricus his life; nor could he resign
the sceptre of the West without committing an act of treason
against himself. He affected the appearances of a civil war, led
his forces into the field, against Aurelian, posted them in the
most disadvantageous manner, betrayed his own counsels to his
enemy, and with a few chosen friends deserted in the beginning of
the action. The rebel legions, though disordered and dismayed by
the unexpected treachery of their chief, defended themselves with
desperate valor, till they were cut in pieces almost to a man, in
this bloody and memorable battle, which was fought near Chalons
in Champagne. The retreat of the irregular auxiliaries, Franks
and Batavians, whom the conqueror soon compelled or persuaded to
repass the Rhine, restored the general tranquillity, and the
power of Aurelian was acknowledged from the wall of Antoninus to
the columns of Hercules.
As early as the reign of Claudius, the city of Autun, alone
and unassisted, had ventured to declare against the legions of
Gaul. After a siege of seven months, they stormed and plundered
that unfortunate city, already wasted by famine. Lyons, on the
contrary, had resisted with obstinate disaffection the arms of
Aurelian. We read of the punishment of Lyons, but there is not
any mention of the rewards of Autun. Such, indeed, is the policy
of civil war; severely to remember injuries, and to forget the
most important services. Revenge is profitable, gratitude is
expensive.
Aurelian had no sooner secured the person and provinces of
Tetricus, than he turned his arms against Zenobia, the celebrated
queen of Palmyra and the East. Modern Europe has produced several
illustrious women who have sustained with glory the weight of
empire; nor is our own age destitute of such distinguished
characters. But if we except the doubtful achievements of
Semiramis, Zenobia is perhaps the only female whose superior
genius broke through the servile indolence imposed on her sex by
the climate and manners of Asia. She claimed her descent from the
Macedonian kings of Egypt, * equalled in beauty her ancestor
Cleopatra, and far surpassed that princess in chastity and valor.
Zenobia was esteemed the most lovely as well as the most heroic
of her sex. She was of a dark complexion, (for in speaking of a
lady these trifles become important.) Her teeth were of a pearly
whiteness, and her large black eyes sparkled with uncommon fire,
tempered by the most attractive sweetness. Her voice was strong
and harmonious. Her manly understanding was strengthened and
adorned by study. She was not ignorant of the Latin tongue, but
possessed in equal perfection the Greek, the Syriac, and the
Egyptian languages. She had drawn up for her own use an epitome
of oriental history, and familiarly compared the beauties of
Homer and Plato under the tuition of the sublime Longinus.
This accomplished woman gave her hand to Odenathus, who, from
a private station, raised himself to the dominion of the East.
She soon became the friend and companion of a hero. In the
intervals of war, Odenathus passionately delighted in the
exercise of hunting; he pursued with ardor the wild beasts of the
desert, lions, panthers, and bears; and the ardor of Zenobia in
that dangerous amusement was not inferior to his own. She had
inured her constitution to fatigue, disdained the use of a
covered carriage, generally appeared on horseback in a military
habit, and sometimes marched several miles on foot at the head of
the troops. The success of Odenathus was in a great measure
ascribed to her incomparable prudence and fortitude. Their
splendid victories over the Great King, whom they twice pursued
as far as the gates of Ctesiphon, laid the foundations of their
united fame and power. The armies which they commanded, and the
provinces which they had saved, acknowledged not any other
sovereigns than their invincible chiefs. The senate and people of
Rome revered a stranger who had avenged their captive emperor,
and even the insensible son of Valerian accepted Odenathus for
his legitimate colleague.
Chapter XI: Reign Of Claudius, Defeat Of The
Goths. -- Part III.
After a successful expedition against the Gothic plunderers of
Asia, the Palmyrenian prince returned to the city of Emesa in
Syria. Invincible in war, he was there cut off by domestic
treason, and his favorite amusement of hunting was the cause, or
at least the occasion, of his death. His nephew Mæonius
presumed to dart his javelin before that of his uncle; and though
admonished of his error, repeated the same insolence. As a
monarch, and as a sportsman, Odenathus was provoked, took away
his horse, a mark of ignominy among the barbarians, and chastised
the rash youth by a short confinement. The offence was soon
forgot, but the punishment was remembered; and Mæonius,
with a few daring associates, assassinated his uncle in the midst
of a great entertainment. Herod, the son of Odenathus, though not
of Zenobia, a young man of a soft and effeminate temper, was
killed with his father. But Mæonius obtained only the
pleasure of revenge by this bloody deed. He had scarcely time to
assume the title of Augustus, before he was sacrificed by Zenobia
to the memory of her husband.
With the assistance of his most faithful friends, she
immediately filled the vacant throne, and governed with manly
counsels Palmyra, Syria, and the East, above five years. By the
death of Odenathus, that authority was at an end which the senate
had granted him only as a personal distinction; but his martial
widow, disdaining both the senate and Gallienus, obliged one of
the Roman generals, who was sent against her, to retreat into
Europe, with the loss of his army and his reputation. Instead of
the little passions which so frequently perplex a female reign,
the steady administration of Zenobia was guided by the most
judicious maxims of policy. If it was expedient to pardon, she
could calm her resentment; if it was necessary to punish, she
could impose silence on the voice of pity. Her strict economy was
accused of avarice; yet on every proper occasion she appeared
magnificent and liberal. The neighboring states of Arabia,
Armenia, and Persia, dreaded her enmity, and solicited her
alliance. To the dominions of Odenathus, which extended from the
Euphrates to the frontiers of Bithynia, his widow added the
inheritance of her ancestors, the populous and fertile kingdom of
Egypt. * The emperor Claudius acknowledged her merit, and was
content, that, while he pursued the Gothic war,
sheshould assert the dignity of the empire in the East.
^61? The conduct, however, of Zenobia, was attended with some
ambiguity; not is it unlikely that she had conceived the design
of erecting an independent and hostile monarchy. She blended with
the popular manners of Roman princes the stately pomp of the
courts of Asia, and exacted from her subjects the same adoration
that was paid to the successor of Cyrus. She bestowed on her
three sons a Latin education, and often showed them to the troops
adorned with the Imperial purple. For herself she reserved the
diadem, with the splendid but doubtful title of Queen of the
East.
When Aurelian passed over into Asia, against an adversary
whose sex alone could render her an object of contempt, his
presence restored obedience to the province of Bithynia, already
shaken by the arms and intrigues of Zenobia. Advancing at the
head of his legions, he accepted the submission of Ancyra, and
was admitted into Tyana, after an obstinate siege, by the help of
a perfidious citizen. The generous though fierce temper of
Aurelian abandoned the traitor to the rage of the soldiers; a
superstitious reverence induced him to treat with lenity the
countrymen of Apollonius the philosopher. Antioch was deserted on
his approach, till the emperor, by his salutary edicts, recalled
the fugitives, and granted a general pardon to all, who, from
necessity rather than choice, had been engaged in the service of
the Palmyrenian Queen. The unexpected mildness of such a conduct
reconciled the minds of the Syrians, and as far as the gates of
Emesa, the wishes of the people seconded the terror of his
arms.
Zenobia would have ill deserved her reputation, had she
indolently permitted the emperor of the West to approach within a
hundred miles of her capital. The fate of the East was decided in
two great battles; so similar in almost every circumstance, that
we can scarcely distinguish them from each other, except by
observing that the first was fought near Antioch, and the second
near Emesa. In both the queen of Palmyra animated the armies by
her presence, and devolved the execution of her orders on Zabdas,
who had already signalized his military talents by the conquest
of Egypt. The numerous forces of Zenobia consisted for the most
part of light archers, and of heavy cavalry clothed in complete
steel. The Moorish and Illyrian horse of Aurelian were unable to
sustain the ponderous charge of their antagonists. They fled in
real or affected disorder, engaged the Palmyrenians in a
laborious pursuit, harassed them by a desultory combat, and at
length discomfited this impenetrable but unwieldy body of
cavalry. The light infantry, in the mean time, when they had
exhausted their quivers, remaining without protection against a
closer onset, exposed their naked sides to the swords of the
legions. Aurelian had chosen these veteran troops, who were
usually stationed on the Upper Danube, and whose valor had been
severely tried in the Alemannic war. After the defeat of Emesa,
Zenobia found it impossible to collect a third army. As far as
the frontier of Egypt, the nations subject to her empire had
joined the standard of the conqueror, who detached Probus, the
bravest of his generals, to possess himself of the Egyptian
provinces. Palmyra was the last resource of the widow of
Odenathus. She retired within the walls of her capital, made
every preparation for a vigorous resistance, and declared, with
the intrepidity of a heroine, that the last moment of her reign
and of her life should be the same.
Amid the barren deserts of Arabia, a few cultivated spots rise
like islands out of the sandy ocean. Even the name of Tadmor, or
Palmyra, by its signification in the Syriac as well as in the
Latin language, denoted the multitude of palm-trees which
afforded shade and verdure to that temperate region. The air was
pure, and the soil, watered by some invaluable springs, was
capable of producing fruits as well as corn. A place possessed of
such singular advantages, and situated at a convenient distance
between the Gulf of Persia and the Mediterranean, was soon
frequented by the caravans which conveyed to the nations of
Europe a considerable part of the rich commodities of India.
Palmyra insensibly increased into an opulent and independent
city, and connecting the Roman and the Parthian monarchies by the
mutual benefits of commerce, was suffered to observe an humble
neutrality, till at length, after the victories of Trajan, the
little republic sunk into the bosom of Rome, and flourished more
than one hundred and fifty years in the subordinate though
honorable rank of a colony. It was during that peaceful period,
if we may judge from a few remaining inscriptions, that the
wealthy Palmyrenians constructed those temples, palaces, and
porticos of Grecian architecture, whose ruins, scattered over an
extent of several miles, have deserved the curiosity of our
travellers. The elevation of Odenathus and Zenobia appeared to
reflect new splendor on their country, and Palmyra, for a while,
stood forth the rival of Rome: but the competition was fatal, and
ages of prosperity were sacrificed to a moment of glory.
In his march over the sandy desert between Emesa and Palmyra,
the emperor Aurelian was perpetually harassed by the Arabs; nor
could he always defend his army, and especially his baggage, from
those flying troops of active and daring robbers, who watched the
moment of surprise, and eluded the slow pursuit of the legions.
The siege of Palmyra was an object far more difficult and
important, and the emperor, who, with incessant vigor, pressed
the attacks in person, was himself wounded with a dart. "The
Roman people," says Aurelian, in an original letter, "speak with
contempt of the war which I am waging against a woman. They are
ignorant both of the character and of the power of Zenobia. It is
impossible to enumerate her warlike preparations, of stones, of
arrows, and of every species of missile weapons. Every part of
the walls is provided with two or three balist and
artificial fires are thrown from her military engines. The fear
of punishment has armed her with a desperate courage. Yet still I
trust in the protecting deities of Rome, who have hitherto been
favorable to all my undertakings." Doubtful, however, of the
protection of the gods, and of the event of the siege, Aurelian
judged it more prudent to offer terms of an advantageous
capitulation; to the queen, a splendid retreat; to the citizens,
their ancient privileges. His proposals were obstinately
rejected, and the refusal was accompanied with insult.
The firmness of Zenobia was supported by the hope, that in a
very short time famine would compel the Roman army to repass the
desert; and by the reasonable expectation that the kings of the
East, and particularly the Persian monarch, would arm in the
defence of their most natural ally. But fortune, and the
perseverance of Aurelian, overcame every obstacle. The death of
Sapor, which happened about this time, distracted the councils of
Persia, and the inconsiderable succors that attempted to relieve
Palmyra, were easily intercepted either by the arms or the
liberality of the emperor. From every part of Syria, a regular
succession of convoys safely arrived in the camp, which was
increased by the return of Probus with his victorious troops from
the conquest of Egypt. It was then that Zenobia resolved to fly.
She mounted the fleetest of her dromedaries, and had already
reached the banks of the Euphrates, about sixty miles from
Palmyra, when she was overtaken by the pursuit of Aurelian's
light horse, seized, and brought back a captive to the feet of
the emperor. Her capital soon afterwards surrendered, and was
treated with unexpected lenity. The arms, horses, and camels,
with an immense treasure of gold, silver, silk, and precious
stones, were all delivered to the conqueror, who, leaving only a
garrison of six hundred archers, returned to Emesa, and employed
some time in the distribution of rewards and punishments at the
end of so memorable a war, which restored to the obedience of
Rome those provinces that had renounced their allegiance since
the captivity of Valerian.
When the Syrian queen was brought into the presence of
Aurelian, he sternly asked her, How she had presumed to rise in
arms against the emperors of Rome! The answer of Zenobia was a
prudent mixture of respect and firmness. "Because I disdained to
consider as Roman emperors an Aureolus or a Gallienus. You alone
I acknowledge as my conqueror and my sovereign." But as female
fortitude is commonly artificial, so it is seldom steady or
consistent. The courage of Zenobia deserted her in the hour of
trial; she trembled at the angry clamors of the soldiers, who
called aloud for her immediate execution, forgot the generous
despair of Cleopatra, which she had proposed as her model, and
ignominiously purchased life by the sacrifice of her fame and her
friends. It was to their counsels, which governed the weakness of
her sex, that she imputed the guilt of her obstinate resistance;
it was on their heads that she directed the vengeance of the
cruel Aurelian. The fame of Longinus, who was included among the
numerous and perhaps innocent victims of her fear, will survive
that of the queen who betrayed, or the tyrant who condemned him.
Genius and learning were incapable of moving a fierce unlettered
soldier, but they had served to elevate and harmonize the soul of
Longinus. Without uttering a complaint, he calmly followed the
executioner, pitying his unhappy mistress, and bestowing comfort
on his afflicted friends.
Returning from the conquest of the East, Aurelian had already
crossed the Straits which divided Europe from Asia, when he was
provoked by the intelligence that the Palmyrenians had massacred
the governor and garrison which he had left among them, and again
erected the standard of revolt. Without a moment's deliberation,
he once more turned his face towards Syria. Antioch was alarmed
by his rapid approach, and the helpless city of Palmyra felt the
irresistible weight of his resentment. We have a letter of
Aurelian himself, in which he acknowledges, that old men, women,
children, and peasants, had been involved in that dreadful
execution, which should have been confined to armed rebellion;
and although his principal concern seems directed to the
reestablishment of a temple of the Sun, he discovers some pity
for the remnant of the Palmyrenians, to whom he grants the
permission of rebuilding and inhabiting their city. But it is
easier to destroy than to restore. The seat of commerce, of arts,
and of Zenobia, gradually sunk into an obscure town, a trifling
fortress, and at length a miserable village. The present citizens
of Palmyra, consisting of thirty or forty families, have erected
their mud cottages within the spacious court of a magnificent
temple.
Another and a last labor still awaited the indefatigable
Aurelian; to suppress a dangerous though obscure rebel, who,
during the revolt of Palmyra, had arisen on the banks of the
Nile. Firmus, the friend and ally, as he proudly styled himself,
of Odenathus and Zenobia, was no more than a wealthy merchant of
Egypt. In the course of his trade to India, he had formed very
intimate connections with the Saracens and the Blemmyes, whose
situation on either coast of the Red Sea gave them an easy
introduction into the Upper Egypt. The Egyptians he inflamed with
the hope of freedom, and, at the head of their furious multitude,
broke into the city of Alexandria, where he assumed the Imperial
purple, coined money, published edicts, and raised an army,
which, as he vainly boasted, he was capable of maintaining from
the sole profits of his paper trade. Such troops were a feeble
defence against the approach of Aurelian; and it seems almost
unnecessary to relate, that Firmus was routed, taken, tortured,
and put to death. Aurelian might now congratulate the senate, the
people, and himself, that in little more than three years, he had
restored universal peace and order to the Roman world.
Since the foundation of Rome, no general had more nobly
deserved a triumph than Aurelian; nor was a triumph ever
celebrated with superior pride and magnificence. The pomp was
opened by twenty elephants, four royal tigers, and above two
hundred of the most curious animals from every climate of the
North, the East, and the South. They were followed by sixteen
hundred gladiators, devoted to the cruel amusement of the
amphitheatre. The wealth of Asia, the arms and ensigns of so many
conquered nations, and the magnificent plate and wardrobe of the
Syrian queen, were disposed in exact symmetry or artful disorder.
The ambassadors of the most remote parts of the earth, of
Æthiopia, Arabia, Persia, Bactriana, India, and China, all
remarkable by their rich or singular dresses, displayed the fame
and power of the Roman emperor, who exposed likewise to the
public view the presents that he had received, and particularly a
great number of crowns of gold, the offerings of grateful cities.
The victories of Aurelian were attested by the long train of
captives who reluctantly attended his triumph, Goths, Vandals,
Sarmatians, Alemanni, Franks, Gauls, Syrians, and Egyptians. Each
people was distinguished by its peculiar inscription, and the
title of Amazons was bestowed on ten martial heroines of the
Gothie nation who had been taken in arms. But every eye,
disregarding the crowd of captives, was fixed on the emperor
Tetricus and the queen of the East. The former, as well as his
son, whom he had created Augustus, was dressed in Gallic
trousers, a saffron tunic, and a robe of purple. The beauteous
figure of Zenobia was confined by fetters of gold; a slave
supported the gold chain which encircled her neck, and she almost
fainted under the intolerable weight of jewels. She preceded on
foot the magnificent chariot, in which she once hoped to enter
the gates of Rome. It was followed by two other chariots, still
more sumptuous, of Odenathus and of the Persian monarch. The
triumphal car of Aurelian (it had formerly been used by a Gothic
king) was drawn, on this memorable occasion, either by four stags
or by four elephants. The most illustrious of the senate, the
people, and the army closed the solemn procession. Unfeigned joy,
wonder, and gratitude, swelled the acclamations of the multitude;
but the satisfaction of the senate was clouded by the appearance
of Tetricus; nor could they suppress a rising murmur, that the
haughty emperor should thus expose to public ignominy the person
of a Roman and a magistrate.
But however, in the treatment of his unfortunate rivals,
Aurelian might indulge his pride, he behaved towards them with a
generous clemency, which was seldom exercised by the ancient
conquerors. Princes who, without success, had defended their
throne or freedom, were frequently strangled in prison, as soon
as the triumphal pomp ascended the Capitol. These usurpers, whom
their defeat had convicted of the crime of treason, were
permitted to spend their lives in affluence and honorable repose.
The emperor presented Zenobia with an elegant villa at Tibur, or
Tivoli, about twenty miles from the capital; the Syrian queen
insensibly sunk into a Roman matron, her daughters married into
noble families, and her race was not yet extinct in the fifth
century. Tetricus and his son were reinstated in their rank and
fortunes. They erected on the Cælian hill a magnificent
palace, and as soon as it was finished, invited Aurelian to
supper. On his entrance, he was agreeably surprised with a
picture which represented their singular history. They were
delineated offering to the emperor a civic crown and the sceptre
of Gaul, and again receiving at his hands the ornaments of the
senatorial dignity. The father was afterwards invested with the
government of Lucania, and Aurelian, who soon admitted the
abdicated monarch to his friendship and conversation, familiarly
asked him, Whether it were not more desirable to administer a
province of Italy, than to reign beyond the Alps. The son long
continued a respectable member of the senate; nor was there any
one of the Roman nobility more esteemed by Aurelian, as well as
by his successors.
So long and so various was the pomp of Aurelian's triumph,
that although it opened with the dawn of day, the slow majesty of
the procession ascended not the Capitol before the ninth hour;
and it was already dark when the emperor returned to the palace.
The festival was protracted by theatrical representations, the
games of the circus, the hunting of wild beasts, combats of
gladiators, and naval engagements. Liberal donatives were
distributed to the army and people, and several institutions,
agreeable or beneficial to the city, contributed to perpetuate
the glory of Aurelian. A considerable portion of his oriental
spoils was consecrated to the gods of Rome; the Capitol, and
every other temple, glittered with the offerings of his
ostentatious piety; and the temple of the Sun alone received
above fifteen thousand pounds of gold. This last was a
magnificent structure, erected by the emperor on the side of the
Quirinal hill, and dedicated, soon after the triumph, to that
deity whom Aurelian adored as the parent of his life and
fortunes. His mother had been an inferior priestess in a chapel
of the Sun; a peculiar devotion to the god of Light was a
sentiment which the fortunate peasant imbibed in his infancy; and
every step of his elevation, every victory of his reign,
fortified superstition by gratitude.
The arms of Aurelian had vanquished the foreign and domestic
foes of the republic. We are assured, that, by his salutary
rigor, crimes and factions, mischievous arts and pernicious
connivance, the luxurious growth of a feeble and oppressive
government, were eradicated throughout the Roman world. But if we
attentively reflect how much swifter is the progress of
corruption than its cure, and if we remember that the years
abandoned to public disorders exceeded the months allotted to the
martial reign of Aurelian, we must confess that a few short
intervals of peace were insufficient for the arduous work of
reformation. Even his attempt to restore the integrity of the
coin was opposed by a formidable insurrection. The emperor's
vexation breaks out in one of his private letters. "Surely," says
he, "the gods have decreed that my life should be a perpetual
warfare. A sedition within the walls has just now given birth to
a very serious civil war. The workmen of the mint, at the
instigation of Felicissimus, a slave to whom I had intrusted an
employment in the finances, have risen in rebellion. They are at
length suppressed; but seven thousand of my soldiers have been
slain in the contest, of those troops whose ordinary station is
in Dacia, and the camps along the Danube." Other writers, who
confirm the same fact, add likewise, that it happened soon after
Aurelian's triumph; that the decisive engagement was fought on
the Cælian hill; that the workmen of the mint had
adulterated the coin; and that the emperor restored the public
credit, by delivering out good money in exchange for the bad,
which the people was commanded to bring into the treasury.
We might content ourselves with relating this extraordinary
transaction, but we cannot dissemble how much in its present form
it appears to us inconsistent and incredible. The debasement of
the coin is indeed well suited to the administration of
Gallienus; nor is it unlikely that the instruments of the
corruption might dread the inflexible justice of Aurelian. But
the guilt, as well as the profit, must have been confined to a
very few; nor is it easy to conceive by what arts they could arm
a people whom they had injured, against a monarch whom they had
betrayed. We might naturally expect that such miscreants should
have shared the public detestation with the informers and the
other ministers of oppression; and that the reformation of the
coin should have been an action equally popular with the
destruction of those obsolete accounts, which by the emperor's
order were burnt in the forum of Trajan. In an age when the
principles of commerce were so imperfectly understood, the most
desirable end might perhaps be effected by harsh and injudicious
means; but a temporary grievance of such a nature can scarcely
excite and support a serious civil war. The repetition of
intolerable taxes, imposed either on the land or on the
necessaries of life, may at last provoke those who will not, or
who cannot, relinquish their country. But the case is far
otherwise in every operation which, by whatsoever expedients,
restores the just value of money. The transient evil is soon
obliterated by the permanent benefit, the loss is divided among
multitudes; and if a few wealthy individuals experience a
sensible diminution of treasure, with their riches, they at the
same time lose the degree of weight and importance which they
derived from the possession of them. However Aurelian might
choose to disguise the real cause of the insurrection, his
reformation of the coin could furnish only a faint pretence to a
party already powerful and discontented. Rome, though deprived of
freedom, was distracted by faction. The people, towards whom the
emperor, himself a plebeian, always expressed a peculiar
fondness, lived in perpetual dissension with the senate, the
equestrian order, and the Prætorian guards. Nothing less
than the firm though secret conspiracy of those orders, of the
authority of the first, the wealth of the second, and the arms of
the third, could have displayed a strength capable of contending
in battle with the veteran legions of the Danube, which, under
the conduct of a martial sovereign, had achieved the conquest of
the West and of the East.
Whatever was the cause or the object of this rebellion,
imputed with so little probability to the workmen of the mint,
Aurelian used his victory with unrelenting rigor. He was
naturally of a severe disposition. A peasant and a soldier, his
nerves yielded not easily to the impressions of sympathy, and he
could sustain without emotion the sight of tortures and death.
Trained from his earliest youth in the exercise of arms, he set
too small a value on the life of a citizen, chastised by military
execution the slightest offences, and transferred the stern
discipline of the camp into the civil administration of the laws.
His love of justice often became a blind and furious passion and
whenever he deemed his own or the public safety endangered, he
disregarded the rules of evidence, and the proportion of
punishments. The unprovoked rebellion with which the Romans
rewarded his services, exasperated his haughty spirit. The
noblest families of the capital were involved in the guilt or
suspicion of this dark conspiracy. A nasty spirit of revenge
urged the bloody prosecution, and it proved fatal to one of the
nephews of the emperor. The executioners (if we may use the
expression of a contemporary poet) were fatigued, the prisons
were crowded, and the unhappy senate lamented the death or
absence of its most illustrious members. Nor was the pride of
Aurelian less offensive to that assembly than his cruelty.
Ignorant or impatient of the restraints of civil institutions, he
disdained to hold his power by any other title than that of the
sword, and governed by right of conquest an empire which he had
saved and subdued.
It was observed by one of the most sagacious of the Roman
princes, that the talents of his predecessor Aurelian were better
suited to the command of an army, than to the government of an
empire. Conscious of the character in which nature and experience
had enabled him to excel, he again took the field a few months
after his triumph. It was expedient to exercise the restless
temper of the legions in some foreign war, and the Persian
monarch, exulting in the shame of Valerian, still braved with
impunity the offended majesty of Rome. At the head of an army,
less formidable by its numbers than by its discipline and valor,
the emperor advanced as far as the Straits which divide Europe
from Asia. He there experienced that the most absolute power is a
weak defence against the effects of despair. He had threatened
one of his secretaries who was accused of extortion; and it was
known that he seldom threatened in vain. The last hope which
remained for the criminal, was to involve some of the principal
officers of the army in his danger, or at least in his fears.
Artfully counterfeiting his master's hand, he showed them, in a
long and bloody list, their own names devoted to death. Without
suspecting or examining the fraud, they resolved to secure their
lives by the murder of the emperor. On his march, between
Byzanthium and Heraclea, Aurelian was suddenly attacked by the
conspirators, whose stations gave them a right to surround his
person, and after a short resistance, fell by the hand of
Mucapor, a general whom he had always loved and trusted. He died
regretted by the army, detested by the senate, but universally
acknowledged as a warlike and fortunate prince, the useful,
though severe reformer of a degenerate state.
Chapter XII: Reigns Of Tacitus, Probus, Carus And His Sons.
Part I.
Conduct Of The Army And Senate After The Death Of Aurelian. --
Reigns Of Tacitus, Probus, Carus, And His Sons.
Such was the unhappy condition of the Roman emperors, that,
whatever might be their conduct, their fate was commonly the
same. A life of pleasure or virtue, of severity or mildness, of
indolence or glory, alike led to an untimely grave; and almost
every reign is closed by the same disgusting repetition of
treason and murder. The death of Aurelian, however, is remarkable
by its extraordinary consequences. The legions admired, lamented,
and revenged their victorious chief. The artifice of his
perfidious secretary was discovered and punished. The deluded
conspirators attended the funeral of their injured sovereign,
with sincere or well-feigned contrition, and submitted to the
unanimous resolution of the military order, which was signified
by the following epistle: "The brave and fortunate armies to the
senate and people of Rome. -- The crime of one man, and the error
of many, have deprived us of the late emperor Aurelian. May it
please you, venerable lords and fathers! to place him in the
number of the gods, and to appoint a successor whom your judgment
shall declare worthy of the Imperial purple! None of those whose
guilt or misfortune have contributed to our loss, shall ever
reign over us." The Roman senators heard, without surprise, that
another emperor had been assassinated in his camp; they secretly
rejoiced in the fall of Aurelian; and, besides the recent
notoriety of the facts, constantly draws his materials from the
Journals of the Senate, and the but the modest and dutiful
address of the legions, when it was communicated in full assembly
by the consul, diffused the most pleasing astonishment. Such
honors as fear and perhaps esteem could extort, they liberally
poured forth on the memory of their deceased sovereign. Such
acknowledgments as gratitude could inspire, they returned to the
faithful armies of the republic, who entertained so just a sense
of the legal authority of the senate in the choice of an emperor.
Yet, notwithstanding this flattering appeal, the most prudent of
the assembly declined exposing their safety and dignity to the
caprice of an armed multitude. The strength of the legions was,
indeed, a pledge of their sincerity, since those who may command
are seldom reduced to the necessity of dissembling; but could it
naturally be expected, that a hasty repentance would correct the
inveterate habits of fourscore years? Should the soldiers relapse
into their accustomed seditions, their insolence might disgrace
the majesty of the senate, and prove fatal to the object of its
choice. Motives like these dictated a decree, by which the
election of a new emperor was referred to the suffrage of the
military order.
The contention that ensued is one of the best attested, but
most improbable events in the history of mankind. The troops, as
if satiated with the exercise of power, again conjured the senate
to invest one of its own body with the Imperial purple. The
senate still persisted in its refusal; the army in its request.
The reciprocal offer was pressed and rejected at least three
times, and, whilst the obstinate modesty of either party was
resolved to receive a master from the hands of the other, eight
months insensibly elapsed; an amazing period of tranquil anarchy,
during which the Roman world remained without a sovereign,
without a usurper, and without a sedition. * The generals and
magistrates appointed by Aurelian continued to execute their
ordinary functions; and it is observed, that a proconsul of Asia
was the only considerable person removed from his office in the
whole course of the interregnum.
An event somewhat similar, but much less authentic, is
supposed to have happened after the death of Romulus, who, in his
life and character, bore some affinity with Aurelian. The throne
was vacant during twelve months, till the election of a Sabine
philosopher, and the public peace was guarded in the same manner,
by the union of the several orders of the state. But, in the time
of Numa and Romulus, the arms of the people were controlled by
the authority of the Patricians; and the balance of freedom was
easily preserved in a small and virtuous community. The decline
of the Roman state, far different from its infancy, was attended
with every circumstance that could banish from an interregnum the
prospect of obedience and harmony: an immense and tumultuous
capital, a wide extent of empire, the servile equality of
despotism, an army of four hundred thousand mercenaries, and the
experience of frequent revolutions. Yet, notwithstanding all
these temptations, the discipline and memory of Aurelian still
restrained the seditious temper of the troops, as well as the
fatal ambition of their leaders. The flower of the legions
maintained their stations on the banks of the Bosphorus, and the
Imperial standard awed the less powerful camps of Rome and of the
provinces. A generous though transient enthusiasm seemed to
animate the military order; and we may hope that a few real
patriots cultivated the returning friendship of the army and the
senate, as the only expedient capable of restoring the republic
to its ancient beauty and vigor.
On the twenty-fifth of September, near eight months after the
murder of Aurelian, the consul convoked an assembly of the
senate, and reported the doubtful and dangerous situation of the
empire. He slightly insinuated, that the precarious loyalty of
the soldiers depended on the chance of every hour, and of every
accident; but he represented, with the most convincing eloquence,
the various dangers that might attend any further delay in the
choice of an emperor. Intelligence, he said, was already
received, that the Germans had passed the Rhine, and occupied
some of the strongest and most opulent cities of Gaul. The
ambition of the Persian king kept the East in perpetual alarms;
Egypt, Africa, and Illyricum, were exposed to foreign and
domestic arms, and the levity of Syria would prefer even a female
sceptre to the sanctity of the Roman laws. The consul, then
addressing himself to Tacitus, the first of the senators,
required his opinion on the important subject of a proper
candidate for the vacant throne.
If we can prefer personal merit to accidental greatness, we
shall esteem the birth of Tacitus more truly noble than that of
kings. He claimed his descent from the philosophic historian,
whose writings will instruct the last generations of mankind. The
senator Tacitus was then seventy-five years of age. The long
period of his innocent life was adorned with wealth and honors.
He had twice been invested with the consular dignity, and enjoyed
with elegance and sobriety his ample patrimony of between two and
three millions sterling. The experience of so many princes, whom
he had esteemed or endured, from the vain follies of Elagabalus
to the useful rigor of Aurelian, taught him to form a just
estimate of the duties, the dangers, and the temptations of their
sublime station. From the assiduous study of his immortal
ancestor, he derived the knowledge of the Roman constitution, and
of human nature. The voice of the people had already named
Tacitus as the citizen the most worthy of empire. The ungrateful
rumor reached his ears, and induced him to seek the retirement of
one of his villas in Campania. He had passed two months in the
delightful privacy of Baiæ, when he reluctantly obeyed the
summons of the consul to resume his honorable place in the
senate, and to assist the republic with his counsels on this
important occasion.
He arose to speak, when from every quarter of the house, he
was saluted with the names of Augustus and emperor. "Tacitus
Augustus, the gods preserve thee! we choose thee for our
sovereign; to thy care we intrust the republic and the world.
Accept the empire from the authority of the senate. It is due to
thy rank, to thy conduct, to thy manners." As soon as the tumult
of acclamations subsided, Tacitus attempted to decline the
dangerous honor, and to express his wonder, that they should
elect his age and infirmities to succeed the martial vigor of
Aurelian. "Are these limbs, conscript fathers! fitted to sustain
the weight of armor, or to practise the exercises of the camp?
The variety of climates, and the hardships of a military life,
would soon oppress a feeble constitution, which subsists only by
the most tender management. My exhausted strength scarcely
enables me to discharge the duty of a senator; how insufficient
would it prove to the arduous labors of war and government! Can
you hope, that the legions will respect a weak old man, whose
days have been spent in the shade of peace and retirement? Can
you desire that I should ever find reason to regret the favorable
opinion of the senate?"
The reluctance of Tacitus (and it might possibly be sincere)
was encountered by the affectionate obstinacy of the senate. Five
hundred voices repeated at once, in eloquent confusion, that the
greatest of the Roman princes, Numa, Trajan, Hadrian, and the
Antonines, had ascended the throne in a very advanced season of
life; that the mind, not the body, a sovereign, not a soldier,
was the object of their choice; and that they expected from him
no more than to guide by his wisdom the valor of the legions.
These pressing though tumultuary instances were seconded by a
more regular oration of Metius Falconius, the next on the
consular bench to Tacitus himself. He reminded the assembly of
the evils which Rome had endured from the vices of headstrong and
capricious youths, congratulated them on the election of a
virtuous and experienced senator, and, with a manly, though
perhaps a selfish, freedom, exhorted Tacitus to remember the
reasons of his elevation, and to seek a successor, not in his own
family, but in the republic. The speech of Falconius was enforced
by a general acclamation. The emperor elect submitted to the
authority of his country, and received the voluntary homage of
his equals. The judgment of the senate was confirmed by the
consent of the Roman people, and of the Prætorian
guards.
The administration of Tacitus was not unworthy of his life and
principles. A grateful servant of the senate, he considered that
national council as the author, and himself as the subject, of
the laws. He studied to heal the wounds which Imperial pride,
civil discord, and military violence, had inflicted on the
constitution, and to restore, at least, the image of the ancient
republic, as it had been preserved by the policy of Augustus, and
the virtues of Trajan and the Antonines. It may not be useless to
recapitulate some of the most important prerogatives which the
senate appeared to have regained by the election of Tacitus. 1.
To invest one of their body, under the title of emperor, with the
general command of the armies, and the government of the frontier
provinces. 2. To determine the list, or, as it was then styled,
the College of Consuls. They were twelve in number, who, in
successive pairs, each, during the space of two months, filled
the year, and represented the dignity of that ancient office. The
authority of the senate, in the nomination of the consuls, was
exercised with such independent freedom, that no regard was paid
to an irregular request of the emperor in favor of his brother
Florianus. "The senate," exclaimed Tacitus, with the honest
transport of a patriot, "understand the character of a prince
whom they have chosen." 3. To appoint the proconsuls and
presidents of the provinces, and to confer on all the magistrates
their civil jurisdiction. 4. To receive appeals through the
intermediate office of the præfect of the city from all the
tribunals of the empire. 5. To give force and validity, by their
decrees, to such as they should approve of the emperor's edicts.
6. To these several branches of authority we may add some
inspection over the finances, since, even in the stern reign of
Aurelian, it was in their power to divert a part of the revenue
from the public service.
Circular epistles were sent, without delay, to all the
principal cities of the empire, Treves, Milan, Aquileia, Thessalo
nica, Corinth, Athens, Antioch, Alexandria, and Carthage, to
claim their obedience, and to inform them of the happy
revolution, which had restored the Roman senate to its ancient
dignity. Two of these epistles are still extant. We likewise
possess two very singular fragments of the private correspondence
of the senators on this occasion. They discover the most
excessive joy, and the most unbounded hopes. "Cast away your
indolence," it is thus that one of the senators addresses his
friend, "emerge from your retirements of Baiæ and Puteoli.
Give yourself to the city, to the senate. Rome flourishes, the
whole republic flourishes. Thanks to the Roman army, to an army
truly Roman; at length we have recovered our just authority, the
end of all our desires. We hear appeals, we appoint proconsuls,
we create emperors; perhaps too we may restrain them -- to the
wise a word is sufficient." These lofty expectations were,
however, soon disappointed; nor, indeed, was it possible that the
armies and the provinces should long obey the luxurious and
unwarlike nobles of Rome. On the slightest touch, the unsupported
fabric of their pride and power fell to the ground. The expiring
senate displayed a sudden lustre, blazed for a moment and was
extinguished forever.
All that had yet passed at Rome was no more than a theatrical
representation, unless it was ratified by the more substantial
power of the legions. Leaving the senators to enjoy their dream
of freedom and ambition, Tacitus proceeded to the Thracian camp,
and was there, by the Prætorian præfect, presented to
the assembled troops, as the prince whom they themselves had
demanded, and whom the senate had bestowed. As soon as the
præfect was silent, the emperor addressed himself to the
soldiers with eloquence and propriety. He gratified their avarice
by a liberal distribution of treasure, under the names of pay and
donative. He engaged their esteem by a spirited declaration, that
although his age might disable him from the performance of
military exploits, his counsels should never be unworthy of a
Roman general, the successor of the brave Aurelian.
Whilst the deceased emperor was making preparations for a
second expedition into the East, he had negotiated with the
Alani, * a Scythian people, who pitched their tents in the
neighborhood of the Lake Moeotis. Those barbarians, allured by
presents and subsidies, had promised to invade Persia with a
numerous body of light cavalry. They were faithful to their
engagements; but when they arrived on the Roman frontier,
Aurelian was already dead, the design of the Persian war was at
least suspended, and the generals, who, during the interregnum,
exercised a doubtful authority, were unprepared either to receive
or to oppose them. Provoked by such treatment, which they
considered as trifling and perfidious, the Alani had recourse to
their own valor for their payment and revenge; and as they moved
with the usual swiftness of Tartars, they had soon spread
themselves over the provinces of Pontus, Cappadocia, Cilicia, and
Galatia. The legions, who from the opposite shores of the
Bosphorus could almost distinguish the flames of the cities and
villages, impatiently urged their general to lead them against
the invaders. The conduct of Tacitus was suitable to his age and
station. He convinced the barbarians of the faith, as well as the
power, of the empire. Great numbers of the Alani, appeased by the
punctual discharge of the engagements which Aurelian had
contracted with them, relinquished their booty and captives, and
quietly retreated to their own deserts, beyond the Phasis.
Against the remainder, who refused peace, the Roman emperor
waged, in person, a successful war. Seconded by an army of brave
and experienced veterans, in a few weeks he delivered the
provinces of Asia from the terror of the Scythian invasion.
But the glory and life of Tacitus were of short duration.
Transported, in the depth of winter, from the soft retirement of
Campania to the foot of Mount Caucasus, he sunk under the
unaccustomed hardships of a military life. The fatigues of the
body were aggravated by the cares of the mind. For a while, the
angry and selfish passions of the soldiers had been suspended by
the enthusiasm of public virtue. They soon broke out with
redoubled violence, and raged in the camp, and even in the tent
of the aged emperor. His mild and amiable character served only
to inspire contempt, and he was incessantly tormented with
factions which he could not assuage, and by demands which it was
impossible to satisfy. Whatever flattering expectations he had
conceived of reconciling the public disorders, Tacitus soon was
convinced that the licentiousness of the army disdained the
feeble restraint of laws, and his last hour was hastened by
anguish and disappointment. It may be doubtful whether the
soldiers imbrued their hands in the blood of this innocent
prince. It is certain that their insolences was the cause of his
death. He expired at Tyana in Cappadocia, after a reign of only
six months and about twenty days.
The eyes of Tacitus were scarcely closed, before his brother
Florianus showed himself unworthy to reign, by the hasty
usurpation of the purple, without expecting the approbation of
the senate. The reverence for the Roman constitution, which yet
influenced the camp and the provinces, was sufficiently strong to
dispose them to censure, but not to provoke them to oppose, the
precipitate ambition of Florianus. The discontent would have
evaporated in idle murmurs, had not the general of the East, the
heroic Probus, boldly declared himself the avenger of the senate.
The contest, however, was still unequal; nor could the most able
leader, at the head of the effeminate troops of Egypt and Syria,
encounter, with any hopes of victory, the legions of Europe,
whose irresistible strength appeared to support the brother of
Tacitus. But the fortune and activity of Probus triumphed over
every obstacle. The hardy veterans of his rival, accustomed to
cold climates, sickened and consumed away in the sultry heats of
Cilicia, where the summer proved remarkably unwholesome. Their
numbers were diminished by frequent desertion; the passes of the
mountains were feebly defended; Tarsus opened its gates; and the
soldiers of Florianus, when they had permitted him to enjoy the
Imperial title about three months, delivered the empire from
civil war by the easy sacrifice of a prince whom they
despised.
The perpetual revolutions of the throne had so perfectly
erased every notion of hereditary title, that the family of an
unfortunate emperor was incapable of exciting the jealousy of his
successors. The children of Tacitus and Florianus were permitted
to descend into a private station, and to mingle with the general
mass of the people. Their poverty indeed became an additional
safeguard to their innocence. When Tacitus was elected by the
senate, he resigned his ample patrimony to the public service; an
act of generosity specious in appearance, but which evidently
disclosed his intention of transmitting the empire to his
descendants. The only consolation of their fallen state was the
remembrance of transient greatness, and a distant hope, the child
of a flattering prophecy, that at the end of a thousand years, a
monarch of the race of Tacitus should arise, the protector of the
senate, the restorer of Rome, and the conqueror of the whole
earth.
The peasants of Illyricum, who had already given Claudius and
Aurelian to the sinking empire, had an equal right to glory in
the elevation of Probus. Above twenty years before, the emperor
Valerian, with his usual penetration, had discovered the rising
merit of the young soldier, on whom he conferred the rank of
tribune, long before the age prescribed by the military
regulations. The tribune soon justified his choice, by a victory
over a great body of Sarmatians, in which he saved the life of a
near relation of Valerian; and deserved to receive from the
emperor's hand the collars, bracelets, spears, and banners, the
mural and the civic crown, and all the honorable rewards reserved
by ancient Rome for successful valor. The third, and afterwards
the tenth, legion were intrusted to the command of Probus, who,
in every step of his promotion, showed himself superior to the
station which he filled. Africa and Pontus, the Rhine, the
Danube, the Euphrates, and the Nile, by turns afforded him the
most splendid occasions of displaying his personal prowess and
his conduct in war. Aurelian was indebted for the honest courage
with which he often checked the cruelty of his master. Tacitus,
who desired by the abilities of his generals to supply his own
deficiency of military talents, named him commander-in-chief of
all the eastern provinces, with five times the usual salary, the
promise of the consulship, and the hope of a triumph. When Probus
ascended the Imperial throne, he was about forty-four years of
age; in the full possession of his fame, of the love of the army,
and of a mature vigor of mind and body.
His acknowledge merit, and the success of his arms against
Florianus, left him without an enemy or a competitor. Yet, if we
may credit his own professions, very far from being desirous of
the empire, he had accepted it with the most sincere reluctance.
"But it is no longer in my power," says Probus, in a private
letter, "to lay down a title so full of envy and of danger. I
must continue to personate the character which the soldiers have
imposed upon me." His dutiful address to the senate displayed the
sentiments, or at least the language, of a Roman patriot: "When
you elected one of your order, conscript fathers! to succeed the
emperor Aurelian, you acted in a manner suitable to your justice
and wisdom. For you are the legal sovereigns of the world, and
the power which you derive from your ancestors will descend to
your posterity. Happy would it have been, if Florianus, instead
of usurping the purple of his brother, like a private
inheritance, had expected what your majesty might determine,
either in his favor, or in that of other person. The prudent
soldiers have punished his rashness. To me they have offered the
title of Augustus. But I submit to your clemency my pretensions
and my merits." When this respectful epistle was read by the
consul, the senators were unable to disguise their satisfaction,
that Probus should condescend thus numbly to solicit a sceptre
which he already possessed. They celebrated with the warmest
gratitude his virtues, his exploits, and above all his
moderation. A decree immediately passed, without a dissenting
voice, to ratify the election of the eastern armies, and to
confer on their chief all the several branches of the Imperial
dignity: the names of Cæsar and Augustus, the title of
Father of his country, the right of making in the same day three
motions in the senate, the office of Pontifex, Maximus, the
tribunitian power, and the proconsular command; a mode of
investiture, which, though it seemed to multiply the authority of
the emperor, expressed the constitution of the ancient republic.
The reign of Probus corresponded with this fair beginning. The
senate was permitted to direct the civil administration of the
empire. Their faithful general asserted the honor of the Roman
arms, and often laid at their feet crowns of gold and barbaric
trophies, the fruits of his numerous victories. Yet, whilst he
gratified their vanity, he must secretly have despised their
indolence and weakness. Though it was every moment in their power
to repeal the disgraceful edict of Gallienus, the proud
successors of the Scipios patiently acquiesced in their exclusion
from all military employments. They soon experienced, that those
who refuse the sword must renounce the sceptre.
Chapter XII: Reigns Of Tacitus, Probus, Carus And
His Sons. -- Part II.
The strength of Aurelian had crushed on every side the enemies
of Rome. After his death they seemed to revive with an increase
of fury and of numbers. They were again vanquished by the active
vigor of Probus, who, in a short reign of about six years,
equalled the fame of ancient heroes, and restored peace and order
to every province of the Roman world. The dangerous frontier of
Rhætia he so firmly secured, that he left it without the
suspicion of an enemy. He broke the wandering power of the
Sarmatian tribes, and by the terror of his arms compelled those
barbarians to relinquish their spoil. The Gothic nation courted
the alliance of so warlike an emperor. He attacked the Isaurians
in their mountains, besieged and took several of their strongest
castles, and flattered himself that he had forever suppressed a
domestic foe, whose independence so deeply wounded the majesty of
the empire. The troubles excited by the usurper Firmus in the
Upper Egypt had never been perfectly appeased, and the cities of
Ptolemais and Coptos, fortified by the alliance of the Blemmyes,
still maintained an obscure rebellion. The chastisement of those
cities, and of their auxiliaries the savages of the South, is
said to have alarmed the court of Persia, and the Great King sued
in vain for the friendship of Probus. Most of the exploits which
distinguished his reign were achieved by the personal valor and
conduct of the emperor, insomuch that the writer of his life
expresses some amazement how, in so short a time, a single man
could be present in so many distant wars. The remaining actions
he intrusted to the care of his lieutenants, the judicious choice
of whom forms no inconsiderable part of his glory. Carus,
Diocletian, Maximian, Constantius, Galerius, Asclepiodatus,
Annibalianus, and a crowd of other chiefs, who afterwards
ascended or supported the throne, were trained to arms in the
severe school of Aurelian and Probus.
But the most important service which Probus rendered to the
republic was the deliverance of Gaul, and the recovery of seventy
flourishing cities oppressed by the barbarians of Germany, who,
since the death of Aurelian, had ravaged that great province with
impunity. Among the various multitude of those fierce invaders we
may distinguish, with some degree of clearness, three great
armies, or rather nations, successively vanquished by the valor
of Probus. He drove back the Franks into their morasses; a
descriptive circumstance from whence we may infer, that the
confederacy known by the manly appellation of Free,
already occupied the flat maritime country, intersected and
almost overflown by the stagnating waters of the Rhine, and that
several tribes of the Frisians and Batavians had acceded to their
alliance. He vanquished the Burgundians, a considerable people of
the Vandalic race. * They had wandered in quest of booty from the
banks of the Oder to those of the Seine. They esteemed themselves
sufficiently fortunate to purchase, by the restitution of all
their booty, the permission of an undisturbed retreat. They
attempted to elude that article of the treaty. Their punishment
was immediate and terrible. But of all the invaders of Gaul, the
most formidable were the Lygians, a distant people, who reigned
over a wide domain on the frontiers of Poland and Silesia. In the
Lygian nation, the Arii held the first rank by their numbers and
fierceness. "The Arii" (it is thus that they are described by the
energy of Tacitus) "study to improve by art and circumstances the
innate terrors of their barbarism. Their shields are black, their
bodies are painted black. They choose for the combat the darkest
hour of the night. Their host advances, covered as it were with a
funeral shade; nor do they often find an enemy capable of
sustaining so strange and infernal an aspect. Of all our senses,
the eyes are the first vanquished in battle." Yet the arms and
discipline of the Romans easily discomfited these horrid
phantoms. The Lygii were defeated in a general engagement, and
Semno, the most renowned of their chiefs, fell alive into the
hands of Probus. That prudent emperor, unwilling to reduce a
brave people to despair, granted them an honorable capitulation,
and permitted them to return in safety to their native country.
But the losses which they suffered in the march, the battle, and
the retreat, broke the power of the nation: nor is the Lygian
name ever repeated in the history either of Germany or of the
empire. The deliverance of Gaul is reported to have cost the
lives of four hundred thousand of the invaders; a work of labor
to the Romans, and of expense to the emperor, who gave a piece of
gold for the head of every barbarian. But as the fame of warriors
is built on the destruction of human kind, we may naturally
suspect, that the sanguinary account was multiplied by the
avarice of the soldiers, and accepted without any very severe
examination by the liberal vanity of Probus.
Since the expedition of Maximin, the Roman generals had
confined their ambition to a defensive war against the nations of
Germany, who perpetually pressed on the frontiers of the empire.
The more daring Probus pursued his Gallic victories, passed the
Rhine, and displayed his invincible eagles on the banks of the
Elbe and the Necker. He was fully convinced that nothing could
reconcile the minds of the barbarians to peace, unless they
experienced, in their own country, the calamities of war.
Germany, exhausted by the ill success of the last emigration, was
astonished by his presence. Nine of the most considerable princes
repaired to his camp, and fell prostrate at his feet. Such a
treaty was humbly received by the Germans, as it pleased the
conqueror to dictate. He exacted a strict restitution of the
effects and captives which they had carried away from the
provinces; and obliged their own magistrates to punish the more
obstinate robbers who presumed to detain any part of the spoil. A
considerable tribute of corn, cattle, and horses, the only wealth
of barbarians, was reserved for the use of the garrisons which
Probus established on the limits of their territory. He even
entertained some thoughts of compelling the Germans to relinquish
the exercise of arms, and to trust their differences to the
justice, their safety to the power, of Rome. To accomplish these
salutary ends, the constant residence of an Imperial governor,
supported by a numerous army, was indispensably requisite. Probus
therefore judged it more expedient to defer the execution of so
great a design; which was indeed rather of specious than solid
utility. Had Germany been reduced into the state of a province,
the Romans, with immense labor and expense, would have acquired
only a more extensive boundary to defend against the fiercer and
more active barbarians of Scythia.
Instead of reducing the warlike natives of Germany to the
condition of subjects, Probus contented himself with the humble
expedient of raising a bulwark against their inroads. The country
which now forms the circle of Swabia had been left desert in the
age of Augustus by the emigration of its ancient inhabitants. The
fertility of the soil soon attracted a new colony from the
adjacent provinces of Gaul. Crowds of adventurers, of a roving
temper and of desperate fortunes, occupied the doubtful
possession, and acknowledged, by the payment of tithes the
majesty of the empire. To protect these new subjects, a line of
frontier garrisons was gradually extended from the Rhine to the
Danube. About the reign of Hadrian, when that mode of defence
began to be practised, these garrisons were connected and covered
by a strong intrenchment of trees and palisades. In the place of
so rude a bulwark, the emperor Probus constructed a stone wall of
a considerable height, and strengthened it by towers at
convenient distances. From the neighborhood of Newstadt and
Ratisbon on the Danube, it stretched across hills, valleys,
rivers, and morasses, as far as Wimpfen on the Necker, and at
length terminated on the banks of the Rhine, after a winding
course of near two hundred miles. This important barrier, uniting
the two mighty streams that protected the provinces of Europe,
seemed to fill up the vacant space through which the barbarians,
and particularly the Alemanni, could penetrate with the greatest
facility into the heart of the empire. But the experience of the
world, from China to Britain, has exposed the vain attempt of
fortifying any extensive tract of country. An active enemy, who
can select and vary his points of attack, must, in the end,
discover some feeble spot, on some unguarded moment. The
strength, as well as the attention, of the defenders is divided;
and such are the blind effects of terror on the firmest troops,
that a line broken in a single place is almost instantly
deserted. The fate of the wall which Probus erected may confirm
the general observation. Within a few years after his death, it
was overthrown by the Alemanni. Its scattered ruins, universally
ascribed to the power of the Dæmon, now serve only to
excite the wonder of the Swabian peasant.
Among the useful conditions of peace imposed by Probus on the
vanquished nations of Germany, was the obligation of supplying
the Roman army with sixteen thousand recruits, the bravest and
most robust of their youth. The emperor dispersed them through
all the provinces, and distributed this dangerous reenforcement,
in small bands of fifty or sixty each, among the national troops;
judiciously observing, that the aid which the republic derived
from the barbarians should be felt but not seen. Their aid was
now become necessary. The feeble elegance of Italy and the
internal provinces could no longer support the weight of arms.
The hardy frontiers of the Rhine and Danube still produced minds
and bodies equal to the labors of the camp; but a perpetual
series of wars had gradually diminished their numbers. The
infrequency of marriage, and the ruin of agriculture, affected
the principles of population, and not only destroyed the strength
of the present, but intercepted the hope of future, generations.
The wisdom of Probus embraced a great and beneficial plan of
replenishing the exhausted frontiers, by new colonies of captive
or fugitive barbarians, on whom he bestowed lands, cattle,
instruments of husbandry, and every encouragement that might
engage them to educate a race of soldiers for the service of the
republic. Into Britain, and most probably into Cambridgeshire, he
transported a considerable body of Vandals. The impossibility of
an escape reconciled them to their situation, and in the
subsequent troubles of that island, they approved themselves the
most faithful servants of the state. Great numbers of Franks and
Gepidæ were settled on the banks of the Danube and the
Rhine. A hundred thousand Bastarnæ, expelled from their own
country, cheerfully accepted an establishment in Thrace, and soon
imbibed the manners and sentiments of Roman subjects. But the
expectations of Probus were too often disappointed. The
impatience and idleness of the barbarians could ill brook the
slow labors of agriculture. Their unconquerable love of freedom,
rising against despotism, provoked them into hasty rebellions,
alike fatal to themselves and to the provinces; nor could these
artificial supplies, however repeated by succeeding emperors,
restore the important limit of Gaul and Illyricum to its ancient
and native vigor.
Of all the barbarians who abandoned their new settlements, and
disturbed the public tranquillity, a very small number returned
to their own country. For a short season they might wander in
arms through the empire; but in the end they were surely
destroyed by the power of a warlike emperor. The successful
rashness of a party of Franks was attended, however, with such
memorable consequences, that it ought not to be passed unnoticed.
They had been established by Probus, on the sea-coast of Pontus,
with a view of strengthening the frontier against the inroads of
the Alani. A fleet stationed in one of the harbors of the Euxine
fell into the hands of the Franks; and they resolved, through
unknown seas, to explore their way from the mouth of the Phasis
to that of the Rhine. They easily escaped through the Bosphorus
and the Hellespont, and cruising along the Mediterranean,
indulged their appetite for revenge and plunder by frequent
descents on the unsuspecting shores of Asia, Greece, and Africa.
The opulent city of Syracuse, in whose port the natives of Athens
and Carthage had formerly been sunk, was sacked by a handful of
barbarians, who massacred the greatest part of the trembling
inhabitants. From the Island of Sicily, the Franks proceeded to
the columns of Hercules, trusted themselves to the ocean, coasted
round Spain and Gaul, and steering their triumphant course
through the British Channel, at length finished their surprising
voyage, by landing in safety on the Batavian or Frisian shores.
The example of their success, instructing their countrymen to
conceive the advantages and to despise the dangers of the sea,
pointed out to their enterprising spirit a new road to wealth and
glory.
Notwithstanding the vigilance and activity of Probus, it was
almost impossible that he could at once contain in obedience
every part of his wide-extended dominions. The barbarians, who
broke their chains, had seized the favorable opportunity of a
domestic war. When the emperor marched to the relief of Gaul, he
devolved the command of the East on Saturninus. That general, a
man of merit and experience, was driven into rebellion by the
absence of his sovereign, the levity of the Alexandrian people,
the pressing instances of his friends, and his own fears; but
from the moment of his elevation, he never entertained a hope of
empire, or even of life. "Alas!" he said, "the republic has lost
a useful servant, and the rashness of an hour has destroyed the
services of many years. You know not," continued he, "the misery
of sovereign power; a sword is perpetually suspended over our
head. We dread our very guards, we distrust our companions. The
choice of action or of repose is no longer in our disposition,
nor is there any age, or character, or conduct, that can protect
us from the censure of envy. In thus exalting me to the throne,
you have doomed me to a life of cares, and to an untimely fate.
The only consolation which remains is, the assurance that I shall
not fall alone." But as the former part of his prediction was
verified by the victory, so the latter was disappointed by the
clemency of Probus. That amiable prince attempted even to save
the unhappy Saturninus from the fury of the soldiers. He had more
than once solicited the usurper himself to place some confidence
in the mercy of a sovereign who so highly esteemed his character,
that he had punished, as a malicious informer, the first who
related the improbable news of his disaffection. Saturninus
might, perhaps, have embraced the generous offer, had he not been
restrained by the obstinate distrust of his adherents. Their
guilt was deeper, and their hopes more sanguine, than those of
their experienced leader.
The revolt of Saturninus was scarcely extinguished in the
East, before new troubles were excited in the West, by the
rebellion of Bonosus and Proculus, in Gaul. The most
distinguished merit of those two officers was their respective
prowess, of the one in the combats of Bacchus, of the other in
those of Venus, yet neither of them was destitute of courage and
capacity, and both sustained, with honor, the august character
which the fear of punishment had engaged them to assume, till
they sunk at length beneath the superior genius of Probus. He
used the victory with his accustomed moderation, and spared the
fortune, as well as the lives of their innocent families.
The arms of Probus had now suppressed all the foreign and
domestic enemies of the state. His mild but steady administration
confirmed the reestablishment of the public tranquillity; nor was
there left in the provinces a hostile barbarian, a tyrant, or
even a robber, to revive the memory of past disorders. It was
time that the emperor should revisit Rome, and celebrate his own
glory and the general happiness. The triumph due to the valor of
Probus was conducted with a magnificence suitable to his fortune,
and the people who had so lately admired the trophies of
Aurelian, gazed with equal pleasure on those of his heroic
successor. We cannot, on this occasion, forget the desperate
courage of about fourscore gladiators, reserved, with near six
hundred others, for the inhuman sports of the amphitheatre.
Disdaining to shed their blood for the amusement of the populace,
they killed their keepers, broke from the place of their
confinement, and filled the streets of Rome with blood and
confusion. After an obstinate resistance, they were overpowered
and cut in pieces by the regular forces; but they obtained at
least an honorable death, and the satisfaction of a just
revenge.
The military discipline which reigned in the camps of Probus
was less cruel than that of Aurelian, but it was equally rigid
and exact. The latter had punished the irregularities of the
soldiers with unrelenting severity, the former prevented them by
employing the legions in constant and useful labors. When Probus
commanded in Egypt, he executed many considerable works for the
splendor and benefit of that rich country. The navigation of the
Nile, so important to Rome itself, was improved; and temples,
buildings, porticos, and palaces were constructed by the hands of
the soldiers, who acted by turns as architects, as engineers, and
as husbandmen. It was reported of Hannibal, that in order to
preserve his troops from the dangerous temptations of idleness,
he had obliged them to form large plantations of olive-trees
along the coast of Africa. From a similar principle, Probus
exercised his legions in covering with rich vineyards the hills
of Gaul and Pannonia, and two considerable spots are described,
which were entirely dug and planted by military labor. One of
these, known under the name of Mount Almo, was situated near
Sirmium, the country where Probus was born, for which he ever
retained a partial affection, and whose gratitude he endeavored
to secure, by converting into tillage a large and unhealthy tract
of marshy ground. An army thus employed constituted perhaps the
most useful, as well as the bravest, portion of Roman
subjects.
But in the prosecution of a favorite scheme, the best of men,
satisfied with the rectitude of their intentions, are subject to
forget the bounds of moderation; nor did Probus himself
sufficiently consult the patience and disposition of his fierce
legionaries. The dangers of the military profession seem only to
be compensated by a life of pleasure and idleness; but if the
duties of the soldier are incessantly aggravated by the labors of
the peasant, he will at last sink under the intolerable burden,
or shake it off with indignation. The imprudence of Probus is
said to have inflamed the discontent of his troops. More
attentive to the interests of mankind than to those of the army,
he expressed the vain hope, that, by the establishment of
universal peace, he should soon abolish the necessity of a
standing and mercenary force. The unguarded expression proved
fatal to him. In one of the hottest days of summer, as he
severely urged the unwholesome labor of draining the marshes of
Sirmium, the soldiers, impatient of fatigue, on a sudden threw
down their tools, grasped their arms, and broke out into a
furious mutiny. The emperor, conscious of his danger, took refuge
in a lofty tower, constructed for the purpose of surveying the
progress of the work. The tower was instantly forced, and a
thousand swords were plunged at once into the bosom of the
unfortunate Probus. The rage of the troops subsided as soon as it
had been gratified. They then lamented their fatal rashness,
forgot the severity of the emperor, whom they had massacred, and
hastened to perpetuate, by an honorable monument, the memory of
his virtues and victories.
When the legions had indulged their grief and repentance for
the death of Probus, their unanimous consent declared Carus, his
Prætorian præfect, the most deserving of the Imperial
throne. Every circumstance that relates to this prince appears of
a mixed and doubtful nature. He gloried in the title of Roman
Citizen; and affected to compare the purity of his blood with the
foreign and even barbarous origin of the preceding emperors; yet
the most inquisitive of his contemporaries, very far from
admitting his claim, have variously deduced his own birth, or
that of his parents, from Illyricum, from Gaul, or from Africa.
Though a soldier, he had received a learned education; though a
senator, he was invested with the first dignity of the army; and
in an age when the civil and military professions began to be
irrecoverably separated from each other, they were united in the
person of Carus. Notwithstanding the severe justice which he
exercised against the assassins of Probus, to whose favor and
esteem he was highly indebted, he could not escape the suspicion
of being accessory to a deed from whence he derived the principal
advantage. He enjoyed, at least, before his elevation, an
acknowledged character of virtue and abilities; but his austere
temper insensibly degenerated into moroseness and cruelty; and
the imperfect writers of his life almost hesitate whether they
shall not rank him in the number of Roman tyrants. When Carus
assumed the purple, he was about sixty years of age, and his two
sons, Carinus and Numerian had already attained the season of
manhood.
The authority of the senate expired with Probus; nor was the
repentance of the soldiers displayed by the same dutiful regard
for the civil power, which they had testified after the
unfortunate death of Aurelian. The election of Carus was decided
without expecting the approbation of the senate, and the new
emperor contented himself with announcing, in a cold and stately
epistle, that he had ascended the vacant throne. A behavior so
very opposite to that of his amiable predecessor afforded no
favorable presage of the new reign: and the Romans, deprived of
power and freedom, asserted their privilege of licentious
murmurs. The voice of congratulation and flattery was not,
however, silent; and we may still peruse, with pleasure and
contempt, an eclogue, which was composed on the accession of the
emperor Carus. Two shepherds, avoiding the noontide heat, retire
into the cave of Faunus. On a spreading beech they discover some
recent characters. The rural deity had described, in prophetic
verses, the felicity promised to the empire under the reign of so
great a prince. Faunus hails the approach of that hero, who,
receiving on his shoulders the sinking weight of the Roman world,
shall extinguish war and faction, and once again restore the
innocence and security of the golden age.
It is more than probable, that these elegant trifles never
reached the ears of a veteran general, who, with the consent of
the legions, was preparing to execute the long-suspended design
of the Persian war. Before his departure for this distant
expedition, Carus conferred on his two sons, Carinus and
Numerian, the title of Cæsar, and investing the former with
almost an equal share of the Imperial power, directed the young
prince, first to suppress some troubles which had arisen in Gaul,
and afterwards to fix the seat of his residence at Rome, and to
assume the government of the Western provinces. The safety of
Illyricum was confirmed by a memorable defeat of the Sarmatians;
sixteen thousand of those barbarians remained on the field of
battle, and the number of captives amounted to twenty thousand.
The old emperor, animated with the fame and prospect of victory,
pursued his march, in the midst of winter, through the countries
of Thrace and Asia Minor, and at length, with his younger son,
Numerian, arrived on the confines of the Persian monarchy. There,
encamping on the summit of a lofty mountain, he pointed out to
his troops the opulence and luxury of the enemy whom they were
about to invade.
The successor of Artaxerxes, * Varanes, or Bahram, though he
had subdued the Segestans, one of the most warlike nations of
Upper Asia, was alarmed at the approach of the Romans, and
endeavored to retard their progress by a negotiation of peace.
His ambassadors entered the camp about sunset, at the time when
the troops were satisfying their hunger with a frugal repast. The
Persians expressed their desire of being introduced to the
presence of the Roman emperor. They were at length conducted to a
soldier, who was seated on the grass. A piece of stale bacon and
a few hard peas composed his supper. A coarse woollen garment of
purple was the only circumstance that announced his dignity. The
conference was conducted with the same disregard of courtly
elegance. Carus, taking off a cap which he wore to conceal his
baldness, assured the ambassadors, that, unless their master
acknowledged the superiority of Rome, he would speedily render
Persia as naked of trees as his own head was destitute of hair.
Notwithstanding some traces of art and preparation, we may
discover in this scene the manners of Carus, and the severe
simplicity which the martial princes, who succeeded Gallienus,
had already restored in the Roman camps. The ministers of the
Great King trembled and retired.
The threats of Carus were not without effect. He ravaged
Mesopotamia, cut in pieces whatever opposed his passage, made
himself master of the great cities of Seleucia and Ctesiphon,
(which seemed to have surrendered without resistance,) and
carried his victorious arms beyond the Tigris. He had seized the
favorable moment for an invasion. The Persian councils were
distracted by domestic factions, and the greater part of their
forces were detained on the frontiers of India. Rome and the East
received with transports the news of such important advantages.
Flattery and hope painted, in the most lively colors, the fall of
Persia, the conquest of Arabia, the submission of Egypt, and a
lasting deliverance from the inroads of the Scythian nations. But
the reign of Carus was destined to expose the vanity of
predictions. They were scarcely uttered before they were
contradicted by his death; an event attended with such ambiguous
circumstances, that it may be related in a letter from his own
secretary to the præfect of the city. "Carus," says he,
"our dearest emperor, was confined by sickness to his bed, when a
furious tempest arose in the camp. The darkness which overspread
the sky was so thick, that we could no longer distinguish each
other; and the incessant flashes of lightning took from us the
knowledge of all that passed in the general confusion.
Immediately after the most violent clap of thunder, we heard a
sudden cry that the emperor was dead; and it soon appeared, that
his chamberlains, in a rage of grief, had set fire to the royal
pavilion; a circumstance which gave rise to the report that Carus
was killed by lightning. But, as far as we have been able to
investigate the truth, his death was the natural effect of his
disorder."
Chapter XII: Reigns Of Tacitus, Probus, Carus And
His Sons. -- Part III.
The vacancy of the throne was not productive of any
disturbance. The ambition of the aspiring generals was checked by
their natural fears, and young Numerian, with his absent brother
Carinus, were unanimously acknowledged as Roman emperors. The
public expected that the successor of Carus would pursue his
father's footsteps, and, without allowing the Persians to recover
from their consternation, would advance sword in hand to the
palaces of Susa and Ecbatana. But the legions, however strong in
numbers and discipline, were dismayed by the most abject
superstition. Notwithstanding all the arts that were practised to
disguise the manner of the late emperor's death, it was found
impossible to remove the opinion of the multitude, and the power
of opinion is irresistible. Places or persons struck with
lightning were considered by the ancients with pious horror, as
singularly devoted to the wrath of Heaven. An oracle was
remembered, which marked the River Tigris as the fatal boundary
of the Roman arms. The troops, terrified with the fate of Carus
and with their own danger, called aloud on young Numerian to obey
the will of the gods, and to lead them away from this
inauspicious scene of war. The feeble emperor was unable to
subdue their obstinate prejudice, and the Persians wondered at
the unexpected retreat of a victorious enemy.
The intelligence of the mysterious fate of the late emperor
was soon carried from the frontiers of Persia to Rome; and the
senate, as well as the provinces, congratulated the accession of
the sons of Carus. These fortunate youths were strangers,
however, to that conscious superiority, either of birth or of
merit, which can alone render the possession of a throne easy,
and as it were natural. Born and educated in a private station,
the election of their father raised them at once to the rank of
princes; and his death, which happened about sixteen months
afterwards, left them the unexpected legacy of a vast empire. To
sustain with temper this rapid elevation, an uncommon share of
virtue and prudence was requisite; and Carinus, the elder of the
brothers, was more than commonly deficient in those qualities. In
the Gallic war he discovered some degree of personal courage; but
from the moment of his arrival at Rome, he abandoned himself to
the luxury of the capital, and to the abuse of his fortune. He
was soft, yet cruel; devoted to pleasure, but destitute of taste;
and though exquisitely susceptible of vanity, indifferent to the
public esteem. In the course of a few months, he successively
married and divorced nine wives, most of whom he left pregnant;
and notwithstanding this legal inconstancy, found time to indulge
such a variety of irregular appetites, as brought dishonor on
himself and on the noblest houses of Rome. He beheld with
inveterate hatred all those who might remember his former
obscurity, or censure his present conduct. He banished, or put to
death, the friends and counsellors whom his father had placed
about him, to guide his inexperienced youth; and he persecuted
with the meanest revenge his school-fellows and companions who
had not sufficiently respected the latent majesty of the emperor.
With the senators, Carinus affected a lofty and regal demeanor,
frequently declaring, that he designed to distribute their
estates among the populace of Rome. From the dregs of that
populace he selected his favorites, and even his ministers. The
palace, and even the Imperial table, were filled with singers,
dancers, prostitutes, and all the various retinue of vice and
folly. One of his doorkeepers he intrusted with the government of
the city. In the room of the Prætorian præfect, whom
he put to death, Carinus substituted one of the ministers of his
looser pleasures. Another, who possessed the same, or even a more
infamous, title to favor, was invested with the consulship. A
confidential secretary, who had acquired uncommon skill in the
art of forgery, delivered the indolent emperor, with his own
consent from the irksome duty of signing his name.
When the emperor Carus undertook the Persian war, he was
induced, by motives of affection as well as policy, to secure the
fortunes of his family, by leaving in the hands of his eldest son
the armies and provinces of the West. The intelligence which he
soon received of the conduct of Carinus filled him with shame and
regret; nor had he concealed his resolution of satisfying the
republic by a severe act of justice, and of adopting, in the
place of an unworthy son, the brave and virtuous Constantius, who
at that time was governor of Dalmatia. But the elevation of
Constantius was for a while deferred; and as soon as the father's
death had released Carinus from the control of fear or decency,
he displayed to the Romans the extravagancies of Elagabalus,
aggravated by the cruelty of Domitian.
The only merit of the administration of Carinus that history
could record, or poetry celebrate, was the uncommon splendor with
which, in his own and his brother's name, he exhibited the Roman
games of the theatre, the circus, and the amphitheatre. More than
twenty years afterwards, when the courtiers of Diocletian
represented to their frugal sovereign the fame and popularity of
his munificent predecessor, he acknowledged that the reign of
Carinus had indeed been a reign of pleasure. But this vain
prodigality, which the prudence of Diocletian might justly
despise, was enjoyed with surprise and transport by the Roman
people. The oldest of the citizens, recollecting the spectacles
of former days, the triumphal pomp of Probus or Aurelian, and the
secular games of the emperor Philip, acknowledged that they were
all surpassed by the superior magnificence of Carinus.
The spectacles of Carinus may therefore be best illustrated by
the observation of some particulars, which history has
condescended to relate concerning those of his predecessors. If
we confine ourselves solely to the hunting of wild beasts,
however we may censure the vanity of the design or the cruelty of
the execution, we are obliged to confess that neither before nor
since the time of the Romans so much art and expense have ever
been lavished for the amusement of the people. By the order of
Probus, a great quantity of large trees, torn up by the roots,
were transplanted into the midst of the circus. The spacious and
shady forest was immediately filled with a thousand ostriches, a
thousand stags, a thousand fallow deer, and a thousand wild
boars; and all this variety of game was abandoned to the riotous
impetuosity of the multitude. The tragedy of the succeeding day
consisted in the massacre of a hundred lions, an equal number of
lionesses, two hundred leopards, and three hundred bears. The
collection prepared by the younger Gordian for his triumph, and
which his successor exhibited in the secular games, was less
remarkable by the number than by the singularity of the animals.
Twenty zebras displayed their elegant forms and variegated beauty
to the eyes of the Roman people. Ten elks, and as many
camelopards, the loftiest and most harmless creatures that wander
over the plains of Sarmatia and Æthiopia, were contrasted
with thirty African hyænas and ten Indian tigers, the most
implacable savages of the torrid zone. The unoffending strength
with which Nature has endowed the greater quadrupeds was admired
in the rhinoceros, the hippopotamus of the Nile, and a majestic
troop of thirty-two elephants. While the populace gazed with
stupid wonder on the splendid show, the naturalist might indeed
observe the figure and properties of so many different species,
transported from every part of the ancient world into the
amphitheatre of Rome. But this accidental benefit, which science
might derive from folly, is surely insufficient to justify such a
wanton abuse of the public riches. There occurs, however, a
single instance in the first Punic war, in which the senate
wisely connected this amusement of the multitude with the
interest of the state. A considerable number of elephants, taken
in the defeat of the Carthaginian army, were driven through the
circus by a few slaves, armed only with blunt javelins. The
useful spectacle served to impress the Roman soldier with a just
contempt for those unwieldy animals; and he no longer dreaded to
encounter them in the ranks of war.
The hunting or exhibition of wild beasts was conducted with a
magnificence suitable to a people who styled themselves the
masters of the world; nor was the edifice appropriated to that
entertainment less expressive of Roman greatness. Posterity
admires, and will long admire, the awful remains of the
amphitheatre of Titus, which so well deserved the epithet of
Colossal. It was a building of an elliptic figure, five hundred
and sixty-four feet in length, and four hundred and sixty-seven
in breadth, founded on fourscore arches, and rising, with four
successive orders of architecture, to the height of one hundred
and forty feet. The outside of the edifice was encrusted with
marble, and decorated with statues. The slopes of the vast
concave, which formed the inside, were filled and surrounded with
sixty or eighty rows of seats of marble likewise, covered with
cushions, and capable of receiving with ease about fourscore
thousand spectators. Sixty-four vomitories (for by that name the
doors were very aptly distinguished) poured forth the immense
multitude; and the entrances, passages, and staircases were
contrived with such exquisite skill, that each person, whether of
the senatorial, the equestrian, or the plebeian order, arrived at
his destined place without trouble or confusion. Nothing was
omitted, which, in any respect, could be subservient to the
convenience and pleasure of the spectators. They were protected
from the sun and rain by an ample canopy, occasionally drawn over
their heads. The air was continally refreshed by the playing of
fountains, and profusely impregnated by the grateful scent of
aromatics. In the centre of the edifice, the arena, or stage, was
strewed with the finest sand, and successively assumed the most
different forms. At one moment it seemed to rise out of the
earth, like the garden of the Hesperides, and was afterwards
broken into the rocks and caverns of Thrace. The subterraneous
pipes conveyed an inexhaustible supply of water; and what had
just before appeared a level plain, might be suddenly converted
into a wide lake, covered with armed vessels, and replenished
with the monsters of the deep. In the decoration of these scenes,
the Roman emperors displayed their wealth and liberality; and we
read on various occasions that the whole furniture of the
amphitheatre consisted either of silver, or of gold, or of amber.
The poet who describes the games of Carinus, in the character of
a shepherd, attracted to the capital by the fame of their
magnificence, affirms that the nets designed as a defence against
the wild beasts, were of gold wire; that the porticos were
gilded; and that the belt or circle which divided the several
ranks of spectators from each other was studded with a precious
mosaic of beautiful stones.
In the midst of this glittering pageantry, the emperor
Carinus, secure of his fortune, enjoyed the acclamations of the
people, the flattery of his courtiers, and the songs of the
poets, who, for want of a more essential merit, were reduced to
celebrate the divine graces of his person. In the same hour, but
at the distance of nine hundred miles from Rome, his brother
expired; and a sudden revolution transferred into the hands of a
stranger the sceptre of the house of Carus.
The sons of Carus never saw each other after their father's
death. The arrangements which their new situation required were
probably deferred till the return of the younger brother to Rome,
where a triumph was decreed to the young emperors for the
glorious success of the Persian war. It is uncertain whether they
intended to divide between them the administration, or the
provinces, of the empire; but it is very unlikely that their
union would have proved of any long duration. The jealousy of
power must have been inflamed by the opposition of characters. In
the most corrupt of times, Carinus was unworthy to live: Numerian
deserved to reign in a happier period. His affable manners and
gentle virtues secured him, as soon as they became known, the
regard and affections of the public. He possessed the elegant
accomplishments of a poet and orator, which dignify as well as
adorn the humblest and the most exalted station. His eloquence,
however it was applauded by the senate, was formed not so much on
the model of Cicero, as on that of the modern declaimers; but in
an age very far from being destitute of poetical merit, he
contended for the prize with the most celebrated of his
contemporaries, and still remained the friend of his rivals; a
circumstance which evinces either the goodness of his heart, or
the superiority of his genius. But the talents of Numerian were
rather of the contemplative than of the active kind. When his
father's elevation reluctantly forced him from the shade of
retirement, neither his temper nor his pursuits had qualified him
for the command of armies. His constitution was destroyed by the
hardships of the Persian war; and he had contracted, from the
heat of the climate, such a weakness in his eyes, as obliged him,
in the course of a long retreat, to confine himself to the
solitude and darkness of a tent or litter. The administration of
all affairs, civil as well as military, was devolved on Arrius
Aper, the Prætorian præfect, who to the power of his
important office added the honor of being father-in-law to
Numerian. The Imperial pavilion was strictly guarded by his most
trusty adherents; and during many days, Aper delivered to the
army the supposed mandates of their invisible sovereign.
It was not till eight months after the death of Carus, that
the Roman army, returning by slow marches from the banks of the
Tigris, arrived on those of the Thracian Bosphorus. The legions
halted at Chalcedon in Asia, while the court passed over to
Heraclea, on the European side of the Propontis. But a report
soon circulated through the camp, at first in secret whispers,
and at length in loud clamors, of the emperor's death, and of the
presumption of his ambitious minister, who still exercised the
sovereign power in the name of a prince who was no more. The
impatience of the soldiers could not long support a state of
suspense. With rude curiosity they broke into the Imperial tent,
and discovered only the corpse of Numerian. The gradual decline
of his health might have induced them to believe that his death
was natural; but the concealment was interpreted as an evidence
of guilt, and the measures which Aper had taken to secure his
election became the immediate occasion of his ruin Yet, even in
the transport of their rage and grief, the troops observed a
regular proceeding, which proves how firmly discipline had been
reestablished by the martial successors of Gallienus. A general
assembly of the army was appointed to be held at Chalcedon,
whither Aper was transported in chains, as a prisoner and a
criminal. A vacant tribunal was erected in the midst of the camp,
and the generals and tribunes formed a great military council.
They soon announced to the multitude that their choice had fallen
on Diocletian, commander of the domestics or body-guards, as the
person the most capable of revenging and succeeding their beloved
emperor. The future fortunes of the candidate depended on the
chance or conduct of the present hour. Conscious that the station
which he had filled exposed him to some suspicions, Diocletian
ascended the tribunal, and raising his eyes towards the Sun, made
a solemn profession of his own innocence, in the presence of that
all-seeing Deity. Then, assuming the tone of a sovereign and a
judge, he commanded that Aper should be brought in chains to the
foot of the tribunal. "This man," said he, "is the murderer of
Numerian;" and without giving him time to enter on a dangerous
justification, drew his sword, and buried it in the breast of the
unfortunate præfect. A charge supported by such decisive
proof was admitted without contradiction, and the legions, with
repeated acclamations, acknowledged the justice and authority of
the emperor Diocletian.
Before we enter upon the memorable reign of that prince, it
will be proper to punish and dismiss the unworthy brother of
Numerian. Carinus possessed arms and treasures sufficient to
support his legal title to the empire. But his personal vices
overbalanced every advantage of birth and situation. The most
faithful servants of the father despised the incapacity, and
dreaded the cruel arrogance, of the son. The hearts of the people
were engaged in favor of his rival, and even the senate was
inclined to prefer a usurper to a tyrant. The arts of Diocletian
inflamed the general discontent; and the winter was employed in
secret intrigues, and open preparations for a civil war. In the
spring, the forces of the East and of the West encountered each
other in the plains of Margus, a small city of Mæsia, in
the neighborhood of the Danube. The troops, so lately returned
from the Persian war, had acquired their glory at the expense of
health and numbers; nor were they in a condition to contend with
the unexhausted strength of the legions of Europe. Their ranks
were broken, and, for a moment, Diocletian despaired of the
purple and of life. But the advantage which Carinus had obtained
by the valor of his soldiers, he quickly lost by the infidelity
of his officers. A tribune, whose wife he had seduced, seized the
opportunity of revenge, and, by a single blow, extinguished civil
discord in the blood of the adulterer.
Chapter XIII: Reign Of Diocletian And This Three Associates.
Part I.
The Reign Of Diocletian And His Three Associates, Maximian,
Galerius, And Constantius. -- General Reestablishment Of Order
And Tranquillity. -- The Persian War, Victory, And Triumph. --
The New Form Of Administration. -- Abdication And Retirement Of
Diocletian And Maximian.
As the reign of Diocletian was more illustrious than that of
any of his predecessors, so was his birth more abject and
obscure. The strong claims of merit and of violence had
frequently superseded the ideal prerogatives of nobility; but a
distinct line of separation was hitherto preserved between the
free and the servile part of mankind. The parents of Diocletian
had been slaves in the house of Anulinus, a Roman senator; nor
was he himself distinguished by any other name than that which he
derived from a small town in Dalmatia, from whence his mother
deduced her origin. It is, however, probable that his father
obtained the freedom of the family, and that he soon acquired an
office of scribe, which was commonly exercised by persons of his
condition. Favorable oracles, or rather the consciousness of
superior merit, prompted his aspiring son to pursue the
profession of arms and the hopes of fortune; and it would be
extremely curious to observe the gradation of arts and accidents
which enabled him in the end to fulfil those oracles, and to
display that merit to the world. Diocletian was successively
promoted to the government of Mæsia, the honors of the
consulship, and the important command of the guards of the
palace. He distinguished his abilities in the Persian war; and
after the death of Numerian, the slave, by the confession and
judgment of his rivals, was declared the most worthy of the
Imperial throne. The malice of religious zeal, whilst it arraigns
the savage fierceness of his colleague Maximian, has affected to
cast suspicions on the personal courage of the emperor
Diocletian. It would not be easy to persuade us of the cowardice
of a soldier of fortune, who acquired and preserved the esteem of
the legions as well as the favor of so many warlike princes. Yet
even calumny is sagacious enough to discover and to attack the
most vulnerable part. The valor of Diocletian was never found
inadequate to his duty, or to the occasion; but he appears not to
have possessed the daring and generous spirit of a hero, who
courts danger and fame, disdains artifice, and boldly challenges
the allegiance of his equals. His abilities were useful rather
than splendid; a vigorous mind, improved by the experience and
study of mankind; dexterity and application in business; a
judicious mixture of liberality and economy, of mildness and
rigor; profound dissimulation, under the disguise of military
frankness; steadiness to pursue his ends; flexibility to vary his
means; and, above all, the great art of submitting his own
passions, as well as those of others, to the interest of his
ambition, and of coloring his ambition with the most specious
pretences of justice and public utility. Like Augustus,
Diocletian may be considered as the founder of a new empire. Like
the adopted son of Cæsar, he was distinguished as a
statesman rather than as a warrior; nor did either of those
princes employ force, whenever their purpose could be effected by
policy.
The victory of Diocletian was remarkable for its singular
mildness. A people accustomed to applaud the clemency of the
conqueror, if the usual punishments of death, exile, and
confiscation, were inflicted with any degree of temper and
equity, beheld, with the most pleasing astonishment, a civil war,
the flames of which were extinguished in the field of battle.
Diocletian received into his confidence Aristobulus, the
principal minister of the house of Carus, respected the lives,
the fortunes, and the dignity, of his adversaries, and even
continued in their respective stations the greater number of the
servants of Carinus. It is not improbable that motives of
prudence might assist the humanity of the artful Dalmatian; of
these servants, many had purchased his favor by secret treachery;
in others, he esteemed their grateful fidelity to an unfortunate
master. The discerning judgment of Aurelian, of Probus, and of
Carus, had filled the several departments of the state and army
with officers of approved merit, whose removal would have injured
the public service, without promoting the interest of his
successor. Such a conduct, however, displayed to the Roman world
the fairest prospect of the new reign, and the emperor affected
to confirm this favorable prepossession, by declaring, that,
among all the virtues of his predecessors, he was the most
ambitious of imitating the humane philosophy of Marcus
Antoninus.
The first considerable action of his reign seemed to evince
his sincerity as well as his moderation. After the example of
Marcus, he gave himself a colleague in the person of Maximian, on
whom he bestowed at first the title of Cæsar, and
afterwards that of Augustus. But the motives of his conduct, as
well as the object of his choice, were of a very different nature
from those of his admired predecessor. By investing a luxurious
youth with the honors of the purple, Marcus had discharged a debt
of private gratitude, at the expense, indeed, of the happiness of
the state. By associating a friend and a fellow-soldier to the
labors of government, Diocletian, in a time of public danger,
provided for the defence both of the East and of the West.
Maximian was born a peasant, and, like Aurelian, in the territory
of Sirmium. Ignorant of letters, careless of laws, the rusticity
of his appearance and manners still betrayed in the most elevated
fortune the meanness of his extraction. War was the only art
which he professed. In a long course of service, he had
distinguished himself on every frontier of the empire; and though
his military talents were formed to obey rather than to command,
though, perhaps, he never attained the skill of a consummate
general, he was capable, by his valor, constancy, and experience,
of executing the most arduous undertakings. Nor were the vices of
Maximian less useful to his benefactor. Insensible to pity, and
fearless of consequences, he was the ready instrument of every
act of cruelty which the policy of that artful prince might at
once suggest and disclaim. As soon as a bloody sacrifice had been
offered to prudence or to revenge, Diocletian, by his seasonable
intercession, saved the remaining few whom he had never designed
to punish, gently censured the severity of his stern colleague,
and enjoyed the comparison of a golden and an iron age, which was
universally applied to their opposite maxims of government.
Notwithstanding the difference of their characters, the two
emperors maintained, on the throne, that friendship which they
had contracted in a private station. The haughty, turbulent
spirit of Maximian, so fatal, afterwards, to himself and to the
public peace, was accustomed to respect the genius of Diocletian,
and confessed the ascendant of reason over brutal violence. From
a motive either of pride or superstition, the two emperors
assumed the titles, the one of Jovius, the other of Herculius.
Whilst the motion of the world (such was the language of their
venal orators) was maintained by the all-seeing wisdom of
Jupiter, the invincible arm of Hercules purged the earth from
monsters and tyrants.
But even the omnipotence of Jovius and Herculius was
insufficient to sustain the weight of the public administration.
The prudence of Diocletian discovered that the empire, assailed
on every side by the barbarians, required on every side the
presence of a great army, and of an emperor. With this view, he
resolved once more to divide his unwieldy power, and with the
inferior title of Cæsars, * to confer on two generals of
approved merit an unequal share of the sovereign authority.
Galerius, surnamed Armentarius, from his original profession of a
herdsman, and Constantius, who from his pale complexion had
acquired the denomination of Chlorus, were the two persons
invested with the second honors of the Imperial purple. In
describing the country, extraction, and manners of Herculius, we
have already delineated those of Galerius, who was often, and not
improperly, styled the younger Maximian, though, in many
instances both of virtue and ability, he appears to have
possessed a manifest superiority over the elder. The birth of
Constantius was less obscure than that of his colleagues.
Eutropius, his father, was one of the most considerable nobles of
Dardania, and his mother was the niece of the emperor Claudius.
Although the youth of Constantius had been spent in arms, he was
endowed with a mild and amiable disposition, and the popular
voice had long since acknowledged him worthy of the rank which he
at last attained. To strengthen the bonds of political, by those
of domestic, union, each of the emperors assumed the character of
a father to one of the Cæsars, Diocletian to Galerius, and
Maximian to Constantius; and each, obliging them to repudiate
their former wives, bestowed his daughter in marriage or his
adopted son. These four princes distributed among themselves the
wide extent of the Roman empire. The defence of Gaul, Spain, and
Britain, was intrusted to Constantius: Galerius was stationed on
the banks of the Danube, as the safeguard of the Illyrian
provinces. Italy and Africa were considered as the department of
Maximian; and for his peculiar portion, Diocletian reserved
Thrace, Egypt, and the rich countries of Asia. Every one was
sovereign with his own jurisdiction; but their united authority
extended over the whole monarchy, and each of them was prepared
to assist his colleagues with his counsels or presence. The
Cæsars, in their exalted rank, revered the majesty of the
emperors, and the three younger princes invariably acknowledged,
by their gratitude and obedience, the common parent of their
fortunes. The suspicious jealousy of power found not any place
among them; and the singular happiness of their union has been
compared to a chorus of music, whose harmony was regulated and
maintained by the skilful hand of the first artist.
This important measure was not carried into execution till
about six years after the association of Maximian, and that
interval of time had not been destitute of memorable incidents.
But we have preferred, for the sake of perspicuity, first to
describe the more perfect form of Diocletian's government, and
afterwards to relate the actions of his reign, following rather
the natural order of the events, than the dates of a very
doubtful chronology.
The first exploit of Maximian, though it is mentioned in a few
words by our imperfect writers, deserves, from its singularity,
to be recorded in a history of human manners. He suppressed the
peasants of Gaul, who, under the appellation of Bagaudæ,
had risen in a general insurrection; very similar to those which
in the fourteenth century successively afflicted both France and
England. It should seem that very many of those institutions,
referred by an easy solution to the feudal system, are derived
from the Celtic barbarians. When Cæsar subdued the Gauls,
that great nation was already divided into three orders of men;
the clergy, the nobility, and the common people. The first
governed by superstition, the second by arms, but the third and
last was not of any weight or account in their public councils.
It was very natural for the plebeians, oppressed by debt, or
apprehensive of injuries, to implore the protection of some
powerful chief, who acquired over their persons and property the
same absolute right as, among the Greeks and Romans, a master
exercised over his slaves. The greatest part of the nation was
gradually reduced into a state of servitude; compelled to
perpetual labor on the estates of the Gallic nobles, and confined
to the soil, either by the real weight of fetters, or by the no
less cruel and forcible restraints of the laws. During the long
series of troubles which agitated Gaul, from the reign of
Gallienus to that of Diocletian, the condition of these servile
peasants was peculiarly miserable; and they experienced at once
the complicated tyranny of their masters, of the barbarians, of
the soldiers, and of the officers of the revenue.
Their patience was at last provoked into despair. On every
side they rose in multitudes, armed with rustic weapons, and with
irresistible fury. The ploughman became a foot soldier, the
shepherd mounted on horseback, the deserted villages and open
towns were abandoned to the flames, and the ravages of the
peasants equalled those of the fiercest barbarians. They asserted
the natural rights of men, but they asserted those rights with
the most savage cruelty. The Gallic nobles, justly dreading their
revenge, either took refuge in the fortified cities, or fled from
the wild scene of anarchy. The peasants reigned without control;
and two of their most daring leaders had the folly and rashness
to assume the Imperial ornaments. Their power soon expired at the
approach of the legions. The strength of union and discipline
obtained an easy victory over a licentious and divided multitude.
A severe retaliation was inflicted on the peasants who were found
in arms; the affrighted remnant returned to their respective
habitations, and their unsuccessful effort for freedom served
only to confirm their slavery. So strong and uniform is the
current of popular passions, that we might almost venture, from
very scanty materials, to relate the particulars of this war; but
we are not disposed to believe that the principal leaders,
Ælianus and Amandus, were Christians, or to insinuate, that
the rebellion, as it happened in the time of Luther, was
occasioned by the abuse of those benevolent principles of
Christianity, which inculcate the natural freedom of mankind.
Maximian had no sooner recovered Gaul from the hands of the
peasants, than he lost Britain by the usurpation of Carausius.
Ever since the rash but successful enterprise of the Franks under
the reign of Probus, their daring countrymen had constructed
squadrons of light brigantines, in which they incessantly ravaged
the provinces adjacent to the ocean. To repel their desultory
incursions, it was found necessary to create a naval power; and
the judicious measure was prosecuted with prudence and vigor.
Gessoriacum, or Boulogne, in the straits of the British Channel,
was chosen by the emperor for the station of the Roman fleet; and
the command of it was intrusted to Carausius, a Menapian of the
meanest origin, but who had long signalized his skill as a pilot,
and his valor as a soldier. The integrity of the new admiral
corresponded not with his abilities. When the German pirates
sailed from their own harbors, he connived at their passage, but
he diligently intercepted their return, and appropriated to his
own use an ample share of the spoil which they had acquired. The
wealth of Carausius was, on this occasion, very justly considered
as an evidence of his guilt; and Maximian had already given
orders for his death. But the crafty Menapian foresaw and
prevented the severity of the emperor. By his liberality he had
attached to his fortunes the fleet which he commanded, and
secured the barbarians in his interest. From the port of Boulogne
he sailed over to Britain, persuaded the legion, and the
auxiliaries which guarded that island, to embrace his party, and
boldly assuming, with the Imperial purple, the title of Augustus
defied the justice and the arms of his injured sovereign.
When Britain was thus dismembered from the empire, its
importance was sensibly felt, and its loss sincerely lamented.
The Romans celebrated, and perhaps magnified, the extent of that
noble island, provided on every side with convenient harbors; the
temperature of the climate, and the fertility of the soil, alike
adapted for the production of corn or of vines; the valuable
minerals with which it abounded; its rich pastures covered with
innumerable flocks, and its woods free from wild beasts or
venomous serpents. Above all, they regretted the large amount of
the revenue of Britain, whilst they confessed, that such a
province well deserved to become the seat of an independent
monarchy. During the space of seven years it was possessed by
Carausius; and fortune continued propitious to a rebellion
supported with courage and ability. The British emperor defended
the frontiers of his dominions against the Caledonians of the
North, invited, from the continent, a great number of skilful
artists, and displayed, on a variety of coins that are still
extant, his taste and opulence. Born on the confines of the
Franks, he courted the friendship of that formidable people, by
the flattering imitation of their dress and manners. The bravest
of their youth he enlisted among his land or sea forces; and, in
return for their useful alliance, he communicated to the
barbarians the dangerous knowledge of military and naval arts.
Carausius still preserved the possession of Boulogne and the
adjacent country. His fleets rode triumphant in the channel,
commanded the mouths of the Seine and of the Rhine, ravaged the
coasts of the ocean, and diffused beyond the columns of Hercules
the terror of his name. Under his command, Britain, destined in a
future age to obtain the empire of the sea, already assumed its
natural and respectable station of a maritime power.
By seizing the fleet of Boulogne, Carausius had deprived his
master of the means of pursuit and revenge. And when, after a
vast expense of time and labor, a new armament was launched into
the water, the Imperial troops, unaccustomed to that element,
were easily baffled and defeated by the veteran sailors of the
usurper. This disappointed effort was soon productive of a treaty
of peace. Diocletian and his colleague, who justly dreaded the
enterprising spirit of Carausius, resigned to him the sovereignty
of Britain, and reluctantly admitted their perfidious servant to
a participation of the Imperial honors. But the adoption of the
two Cæsars restored new vigor to the Romans arms; and while
the Rhine was guarded by the presence of Maximian, his brave
associate Constantius assumed the conduct of the British war. His
first enterprise was against the important place of Boulogne. A
stupendous mole, raised across the entrance of the harbor,
intercepted all hopes of relief. The town surrendered after an
obstinate defence; and a considerable part of the naval strength
of Carausius fell into the hands of the besiegers. During the
three years which Constantius employed in preparing a fleet
adequate to the conquest of Britain, he secured the coast of
Gaul, invaded the country of the Franks, and deprived the usurper
of the assistance of those powerful allies.
Before the preparations were finished, Constantius received
the intelligence of the tyrant's death, and it was considered as
a sure presage of the approaching victory. The servants of
Carausius imitated the example of treason which he had given. He
was murdered by his first minister, Allectus, and the assassin
succeeded to his power and to his danger. But he possessed not
equal abilities either to exercise the one or to repel the other.
He beheld, with anxious terror, the opposite shores of the
continent already filled with arms, with troops, and with
vessels; for Constantius had very prudently divided his forces,
that he might likewise divide the attention and resistance of the
enemy. The attack was at length made by the principal squadron,
which, under the command of the præfect Asclepiodatus, an
officer of distinguished merit, had been assembled in the north
of the Seine. So imperfect in those times was the art of
navigation, that orators have celebrated the daring courage of
the Romans, who ventured to set sail with a side-wind, and on a
stormy day. The weather proved favorable to their enterprise.
Under the cover of a thick fog, they escaped the fleet of
Allectus, which had been stationed off the Isle of Wight to
receive them, landed in safety on some part of the western coast,
and convinced the Britons, that a superiority of naval strength
will not always protect their country from a foreign invasion.
Asclepiodatus had no sooner disembarked the imperial troops, then
he set fire to his ships; and, as the expedition proved
fortunate, his heroic conduct was universally admired. The
usurper had posted himself near London, to expect the formidable
attack of Constantius, who commanded in person the fleet of
Boulogne; but the descent of a new enemy required his immediate
presence in the West. He performed this long march in so
precipitate a manner, that he encountered the whole force of the
præfect with a small body of harassed and disheartened
troops. The engagement was soon terminated by the total defeat
and death of Allectus; a single battle, as it has often happened,
decided the fate of this great island; and when Constantius
landed on the shores of Kent, he found them covered with obedient
subjects. Their acclamations were loud and unanimous; and the
virtues of the conqueror may induce us to believe, that they
sincerely rejoiced in a revolution, which, after a separation of
ten years, restored Britain to the body of the Roman empire.
Chapter XIII: Reign Of Diocletian And This Three
Associates. -- Part II.
Britain had none but domestic enemies to dread; and as long as
the governors preserved their fidelity, and the troops their
discipline, the incursions of the naked savages of Scotland or
Ireland could never materially affect the safety of the province.
The peace of the continent, and the defence of the principal
rivers which bounded the empire, were objects of far greater
difficulty and importance. The policy of Diocletian, which
inspired the councils of his associates, provided for the public
tranquility, by encouraging a spirit of dissension among the
barbarians, and by strengthening the fortifications of the Roman
limit. In the East he fixed a line of camps from Egypt to the
Persian dominions, and for every camp, he instituted an adequate
number of stationary troops, commanded by their respective
officers, and supplied with every kind of arms, from the new
arsenals which he had formed at Antioch, Emesa, and Damascus. Nor
was the precaution of the emperor less watchful against the
well-known valor of the barbarians of Europe. From the mouth of
the Rhine to that of the Danube, the ancient camps, towns, and
citidels, were diligently reestablished, and, in the most exposed
places, new ones were skilfully constructed: the strictest
vigilance was introduced among the garrisons of the frontier, and
every expedient was practised that could render the long chain of
fortifications firm and impenetrable. A barrier so respectable
was seldom violated, and the barbarians often turned against each
other their disappointed rage. The Goths, the Vandals, the
Gepidæ, the Burgundians, the Alemanni, wasted each other's
strength by destructive hostilities: and whosoever vanquished,
they vanquished the enemies of Rome. The subjects of Diocletian
enjoyed the bloody spectacle, and congratulated each other, that
the mischiefs of civil war were now experienced only by the
barbarians.
Notwithstanding the policy of Diocletian, it was impossible to
maintain an equal and undisturbed tranquillity during a reign of
twenty years, and along a frontier of many hundred miles.
Sometimes the barbarians suspended their domestic animosities,
and the relaxed vigilance of the garrisons sometimes gave a
passage to their strength or dexterity. Whenever the provinces
were invaded, Diocletian conducted himself with that calm dignity
which he always affected or possessed; reserved his presence for
such occasions as were worthy of his interposition, never exposed
his person or reputation to any unnecessary danger, insured his
success by every means that prudence could suggest, and
displayed, with ostentation, the consequences of his victory. In
wars of a more difficult nature, and more doubtful event, he
employed the rough valor of Maximian; and that faithful soldier
was content to ascribe his own victories to the wise counsels and
auspicious influence of his benefactor. But after the adoption of
the two Cæsars, the emperors themselves, retiring to a less
laborious scene of action, devolved on their adopted sons the
defence of the Danube and of the Rhine. The vigilant Galerius was
never reduced to the necessity of vanquishing an army of
barbarians on the Roman territory. The brave and active
Contsantius delivered Gaul from a very furious inroad of the
Alemanni; and his victories of Langres and Vindonissa appear to
have been actions of considerable danger and merit. As he
traversed the open country with a feeble guard, he was
encompassed on a sudden by the superior multitude of the enemy.
He retreated with difficulty towards Langres; but, in the general
consternation, the citizens refused to open their gates, and the
wounded prince was drawn up the wall by the means of a rope. But,
on the news of his distress, the Roman troops hastened from all
sides to his relief, and before the evening he had satisfied his
honor and revenge by the slaughter of six thousand Alemanni. From
the monuments of those times, the obscure traces of several other
victories over the barbarians of Sarmatia and Germany might
possibly be collected; but the tedious search would not be
rewarded either with amusement or with instruction.
The conduct which the emperor Probus had adopted in the
disposal of the vanquished, was imitated by Diocletian and his
associates. The captive barbarians, exchanging death for slavery,
were distributed among the provincials, and assigned to those
districts (in Gaul, the territories of Amiens, Beauvais, Cambray,
Treves, Langres, and Troyes, are particularly specified ) which
had been depopulated by the calamities of war. They were usefully
employed as shepherds and husbandmen, but were denied the
exercise of arms, except when it was found expedient to enroll
them in the military service. Nor did the emperors refuse the
property of lands, with a less servile tenure, to such of the
barbarians as solicited the protection of Rome. They granted a
settlement to several colonies of the Carpi, the Bastarnæ,
and the Sarmatians; and, by a dangerous indulgence, permitted
them in some measure to retain their national manners and
independence. Among the provincials, it was a subject of
flattering exultation, that the barbarian, so lately an object of
terror, now cultivated their lands, drove their cattle to the
neighboring fair, and contributed by his labor to the public
plenty. They congratulated their masters on the powerful
accession of subjects and soldiers; but they forgot to observe,
that multitudes of secret enemies, insolent from favor, or
desperate from oppression, were introduced into the heart of the
empire.
While the Cæsars exercised their valor on the banks of
the Rhine and Danube, the presence of the emperors was required
on the southern confines of the Roman world. From the Nile to
Mount Atlas Africa was in arms. A confederacy of five Moorish
nations issued from their deserts to invade the peaceful
provinces. Julian had assumed the purple at Carthage. Achilleus
at Alexandria, and even the Blemmyes, renewed, or rather
continued, their incursions into the Upper Egypt. Scarcely any
circumstances have been preserved of the exploits of Maximian in
the western parts of Africa; but it appears, by the event, that
the progress of his arms was rapid and decisive, that he
vanquished the fiercest barbarians of Mauritania, and that he
removed them from the mountains, whose inaccessible strength had
inspired their inhabitants with a lawless confidence, and
habituated them to a life of rapine and violence. Diocletian, on
his side, opened the campaign in Egypt by the siege of
Alexandria, cut off the aqueducts which conveyed the waters of
the Nile into every quarter of that immense city, and rendering
his camp impregnable to the sallies of the besieged multitude, he
pushed his reiterated attacks with caution and vigor. After a
siege of eight months, Alexandria, wasted by the sword and by
fire, implored the clemency of the conqueror, but it experienced
the full extent of his severity. Many thousands of the citizens
perished in a promiscuous slaughter, and there were few obnoxious
persons in Egypt who escaped a sentence either of death or at
least of exile. The fate of Busiris and of Coptos was still more
melancholy than that of Alexandria: those proud cities, the
former distinguished by its antiquity, the latter enriched by the
passage of the Indian trade, were utterly destroyed by the arms
and by the severe order of Diocletian. The character of the
Egyptian nation, insensible to kindness, but extremely
susceptible of fear, could alone justify this excessive rigor.
The seditions of Alexandria had often affected the tranquillity
and subsistence of Rome itself. Since the usurpation of Firmus,
the province of Upper Egypt, incessantly relapsing into
rebellion, had embraced the alliance of the savages of
Æthiopia. The number of the Blemmyes, scattered between the
Island of Meroe and the Red Sea, was very inconsiderable, their
disposition was unwarlike, their weapons rude and inoffensive.
Yet in the public disorders, these barbarians, whom antiquity,
shocked with the deformity of their figure, had almost excluded
from the human species, presumed to rank themselves among the
enemies of Rome. Such had been the unworthy allies of the
Egyptians; and while the attention of the state was engaged in
more serious wars, their vexations inroads might again harass the
repose of the province. With a view of opposing to the Blemmyes a
suitable adversary, Diocletian persuaded the Nobatæ, or
people of Nubia, to remove from their ancient habitations in the
deserts of Libya, and resigned to them an extensive but
unprofitable territory above Syene and the cataracts of the Nile,
with the stipulation, that they should ever respect and guard the
frontier of the empire. The treaty long subsisted; and till the
establishment of Christianity introduced stricter notions of
religious worship, it was annually ratified by a solemn sacrifice
in the Isle of Elephantine, in which the Romans, as well as the
barbarians, adored the same visible or invisible powers of the
universe.
At the same time that Diocletian chastised the past crimes of
the Egyptians, he provided for their future safety and happiness
by many wise regulations, which were confirmed and enforced under
the succeeding reigns. One very remarkable edict which he
published, instead of being condemned as the effect of jealous
tyranny, deserves to be applauded as an act of prudence and
humanity. He caused a diligent inquiry to be made "for all the
ancient books which treated of the admirable art of making gold
and silver, and without pity, committed them to the flames;
apprehensive, as we are assumed, lest the opulence of the
Egyptians should inspire them with confidence to rebel against
the empire." But if Diocletian had been convinced of the reality
of that valuable art, far from extinguishing the memory, he would
have converted the operation of it to the benefit of the public
revenue. It is much more likely, that his good sense discovered
to him the folly of such magnificent pretensions, and that he was
desirous of preserving the reason and fortunes of his subjects
from the mischievous pursuit. It may be remarked, that these
ancient books, so liberally ascribed to Pythagoras, to Solomon,
or to Hermes, were the pious frauds of more recent adepts. The
Greeks were inattentive either to the use or to the abuse of
chemistry. In that immense register, where Pliny has deposited
the discoveries, the arts, and the errors of mankind, there is
not the least mention of the transmutation of metals; and the
persecution of Diocletian is the first authentic event in the
history of alchemy. The conquest of Egypt by the Arabs diffused
that vain science over the globe. Congenial to the avarice of the
human heart, it was studied in China as in Europe, with equal
eagerness, and with equal success. The darkness of the middle
ages insured a favorable reception to every tale of wonder, and
the revival of learning gave new vigor to hope, and suggested
more specious arts of deception. Philosophy, with the aid of
experience, has at length banished the study of alchemy; and the
present age, however desirous of riches, is content to seek them
by the humbler means of commerce and industry.
The reduction of Egypt was immediately followed by the Persian
war. It was reserved for the reign of Diocletian to vanquish that
powerful nation, and to extort a confession from the successors
of Artaxerxes, of the superior majesty of the Roman empire.
We have observed, under the reign of Valerian, that Armenia
was subdued by the perfidy and the arms of the Persians, and
that, after the assassination of Chosroes, his son Tiridates, the
infant heir of the monarchy, was saved by the fidelity of his
friends, and educated under the protection of the emperors.
Tiridates derived from his exile such advantages as he could
never have obtained on the throne of Armenia; the early knowledge
of adversity, of mankind, and of the Roman discipline. He
signalized his youth by deeds of valor, and displayed a matchless
dexterity, as well as strength, in every martial exercise, and
even in the less honorable contests of the Olympian games. Those
qualities were more nobly exerted in the defence of his
benefactor Licinius. That officer, in the sedition which
occasioned the death of Probus, was exposed to the most imminent
danger, and the enraged soldiers were forcing their way into his
tent, when they were checked by the single arm of the Armenian
prince. The gratitude of Tiridates contributed soon afterwards to
his restoration. Licinius was in every station the friend and
companion of Galerius, and the merit of Galerius, long before he
was raised to the dignity of Cæsar, had been known and
esteemed by Diocletian. In the third year of that emperor's reign
Tiridates was invested with the kingdom of Armenia. The justice
of the measure was not less evident than its expediency. It was
time to rescue from the usurpation of the Persian monarch an
important territory, which, since the reign of Nero, had been
always granted under the protection of the empire to a younger
branch of the house of Arsaces.
When Tiridates appeared on the frontiers of Armenia, he was
received with an unfeigned transport of joy and loyalty. During
twenty-six years, the country had experienced the real and
imaginary hardships of a foreign yoke. The Persian monarchs
adorned their new conquest with magnificent buildings; but those
monuments had been erected at the expense of the people, and were
abhorred as badges of slavery. The apprehension of a revolt had
inspired the most rigorous precautions: oppression had been
aggravated by insult, and the consciousness of the public hatred
had been productive of every measure that could render it still
more implacable. We have already remarked the intolerant spirit
of the Magian religion. The statues of the deified kings of
Armenia, and the sacred images of the sun and moon, were broke in
pieces by the zeal of the conqueror; and the perpetual fire of
Ormuzd was kindled and preserved upon an altar erected on the
summit of Mount Bagavan. It was natural, that a people
exasperated by so many injuries, should arm with zeal in the
cause of their independence, their religion, and their hereditary
sovereign. The torrent bore down every obstacle, and the Persian
garrisons retreated before its fury. The nobles of Armenia flew
to the standard of Tiridates, all alleging their past merit,
offering their future service, and soliciting from the new king
those honors and rewards from which they had been excluded with
disdain under the foreign government. The command of the army was
bestowed on Artavasdes, whose father had saved the infancy of
Tiridates, and whose family had been massacred for that generous
action. The brother of Artavasdes obtained the government of a
province. One of the first military dignities was conferred on
the satrap Otas, a man of singular temperance and fortitude, who
presented to the king his sister and a considerable treasure,
both of which, in a sequestered fortress, Otas had preserved from
violation. Among the Armenian nobles appeared an ally, whose
fortunes are too remarkable to pass unnoticed. His name was
Mamgo, his origin was Scythian, and the horde which acknowledge
his authority had encamped a very few years before on the skirts
of the Chinese empire, which at that time extended as far as the
neighborhood of Sogdiana. Having incurred the displeasure of his
master, Mamgo, with his followers, retired to the banks of the
Oxus, and implored the protection of Sapor. The emperor of China
claimed the fugitive, and alleged the rights of sovereignty. The
Persian monarch pleaded the laws of hospitality, and with some
difficulty avoided a war, by the promise that he would banish
Mamgo to the uttermost parts of the West, a punishment, as he
described it, not less dreadful than death itself. Armenia was
chosen for the place of exile, and a large district was assigned
to the Scythian horde, on which they might feed their flocks and
herds, and remove their encampment from one place to another,
according to the different seasons of the year. They were
employed to repel the invasion of Tiridates; but their leader,
after weighing the obligations and injuries which he had received
from the Persian monarch, resolved to abandon his party. The
Armenian prince, who was well acquainted with this merit as well
as power of Mamgo, treated him with distinguished respect; and,
by admitting him into his confidence, acquired a brave and
faithful servant, who contributed very effectually to his
restoration.
For a while, fortune appeared to favor the enterprising valor
of Tiridates. He not only expelled the enemies of his family and
country from the whole extent of Armenia, but in the prosecution
of his revenge he carried his arms, or at least his incursions,
into the heart of Assyria. The historian, who has preserved the
name of Tiridates from oblivion, celebrates, with a degree of
national enthusiasm, his personal prowess: and, in the true
spirit of eastern romance, describes the giants and the elephants
that fell beneath his invincible arm. It is from other
information that we discover the distracted state of the Persian
monarchy, to which the king of Armenia was indebted for some part
of his advantages. The throne was disputed by the ambition of
contending brothers; and Hormuz, after exerting without success
the strength of his own party, had recourse to the dangerous
assistance of the barbarians who inhabited the banks of the
Caspian Sea. The civil war was, however, soon terminated, either
by a victor or by a reconciliation; and Narses, who was
universally acknowledged as king of Persia, directed his whole
force against the foreign enemy. The contest then became too
unequal; nor was the valor of the hero able to withstand the
power of the monarch, Tiridates, a second time expelled from the
throne of Armenia, once more took refuge in the court of the
emperors. * Narses soon reestablished his authority over the
revolted province; and loudly complaining of the protection
afforded by the Romans to rebels and fugitives, aspired to the
conquest of the East.
Neither prudence nor honor could permit the emperors to
forsake the cause of the Armenian king, and it was resolved to
exert the force of the empire in the Persian war. Diocletian,
with the calm dignity which he constantly assumed, fixed his own
station in the city of Antioch, from whence he prepared and
directed the military operations. The conduct of the legions was
intrusted to the intrepid valor of Galerius, who, for that
important purpose, was removed from the banks of the Danube to
those of the Euphrates. The armies soon encountered each other in
the plains of Mesopotamia, and two battles were fought with
various and doubtful success; but the third engagement was of a
more decisive nature; and the Roman army received a total
overthrow, which is attributed to the rashness of Galerius, who,
with an inconsiderable body of troops, attacked the innumerable
host of the Persians. But the consideration of the country that
was the scene of action, may suggest another reason for his
defeat. The same ground on which Galerius was vanquished, had
been rendered memorable by the death of Crassus, and the
slaughter of ten legions. It was a plain of more than sixty
miles, which extended from the hills of Carrhæ to the
Euphrates; a smooth and barren surface of sandy desert, without a
hillock, without a tree, and without a spring of fresh water. The
steady infantry of the Romans, fainting with heat and thirst,
could neither hope for victory if they preserved their ranks, nor
break their ranks without exposing themselves to the most
imminent danger. In this situation they were gradually
encompassed by the superior numbers, harassed by the rapid
evolutions, and destroyed by the arrows of the barbarian cavalry.
The king of Armenia had signalized his valor in the battle, and
acquired personal glory by the public misfortune. He was pursued
as far as the Euphrates; his horse was wounded, and it appeared
impossible for him to escape the victorious enemy. In this
extremity Tiridates embraced the only refuge which appeared
before him: he dismounted and plunged into the stream. His armor
was heavy, the river very deep, and at those parts at least half
a mile in breadth; yet such was his strength and dexterity, that
he reached in safety the opposite bank. With regard to the Roman
general, we are ignorant of the circumstances of his escape; but
when he returned to Antioch, Diocletian received him, not with
the tenderness of a friend and colleague, but with the
indignation of an offended sovereign. The haughtiest of men,
clothed in his purple, but humbled by the sense of his fault and
misfortune, was obliged to follow the emperor's chariot above a
mile on foot, and to exhibit, before the whole court, the
spectacle of his disgrace.
As soon as Diocletian had indulged his private resentment, and
asserted the majesty of supreme power, he yielded to the
submissive entreaties of the Cæsar, and permitted him to
retrieve his own honor, as well as that of the Roman arms. In the
room of the unwarlike troops of Asia, which had most probably
served in the first expedition, a second army was drawn from the
veterans and new levies of the Illyrian frontier, and a
considerable body of Gothic auxiliaries were taken into the
Imperial pay. At the head of a chosen army of twenty-five
thousand men, Galerius again passed the Euphrates; but, instead
of exposing his legions in the open plains of Mesopotamia he
advanced through the mountains of Armenia, where he found the
inhabitants devoted to his cause, and the country as favorable to
the operations of infantry as it was inconvenient for the motions
of cavalry. Adversity had confirmed the Roman discipline, while
the barbarians, elated by success, were become so negligent and
remiss, that in the moment when they least expected it, they were
surprised by the active conduct of Galerius, who, attended only
by two horsemen, had with his own eyes secretly examined the
state and position of their camp. A surprise, especially in the
night time, was for the most part fatal to a Persian army. "Their
horses were tied, and generally shackled, to prevent their
running away; and if an alarm happened, a Persian had his housing
to fix, his horse to bridle, and his corselet to put on, before
he could mount." On this occasion, the impetuous attack of
Galerius spread disorder and dismay over the camp of the
barbarians. A slight resistance was followed by a dreadful
carnage, and, in the general confusion, the wounded monarch (for
Narses commanded his armies in person) fled towards the deserts
of Media. His sumptuous tents, and those of his satraps, afforded
an immense booty to the conqueror; and an incident is mentioned,
which proves the rustic but martial ignorance of the legions in
the elegant superfluities of life. A bag of shining leather,
filled with pearls, fell into the hands of a private soldier; he
carefully preserved the bag, but he threw away its contents,
judging that whatever was of no use could not possibly be of any
value. The principal loss of Narses was of a much more affecting
nature. Several of his wives, his sisters, and children, who had
attended the army, were made captives in the defeat. But though
the character of Galerius had in general very little affinity
with that of Alexander, he imitated, after his victory, the
amiable behavior of the Macedonian towards the family of Darius.
The wives and children of Narses were protected from violence and
rapine, conveyed to a place of safety, and treated with every
mark of respect and tenderness, that was due from a generous
enemy to their age, their sex, and their royal dignity.
Chapter XIII: Reign Of Diocletian And This Three
Associates. -- Part III.
While the East anxiously expected the decision of this great
contest, the emperor Diocletian, having assembled in Syria a
strong army of observation, displayed from a distance the
resources of the Roman power, and reserved himself for any future
emergency of the war. On the intelligence of the victory he
condescended to advance towards the frontier, with a view of
moderating, by his presence and counsels, the pride of Galerius.
The interview of the Roman princes at Nisibis was accompanied
with every expression of respect on one side, and of esteem on
the other. It was in that city that they soon afterwards gave
audience to the ambassador of the Great King. The power, or at
least the spirit, of Narses, had been broken by his last defeat;
and he considered an immediate peace as the only means that could
stop the progress of the Roman arms. He despatched Apharban, a
servant who possessed his favor and confidence, with a commission
to negotiate a treaty, or rather to receive whatever conditions
the conqueror should impose. Apharban opened the conference by
expressing his master's gratitude for the generous treatment of
his family, and by soliciting the liberty of those illustrious
captives. He celebrated the valor of Galerius, without degrading
the reputation of Narses, and thought it no dishonor to confess
the superiority of the victorious Cæsar, over a monarch who
had surpassed in glory all the princes of his race.
Notwithstanding the justice of the Persian cause, he was
empowered to submit the present differences to the decision of
the emperors themselves; convinced as he was, that, in the midst
of prosperity, they would not be unmindful of the vicissitudes of
fortune. Apharban concluded his discourse in the style of eastern
allegory, by observing that the Roman and Persian monarchies were
the two eyes of the world, which would remain imperfect and
mutilated if either of them should be put out.
"It well becomes the Persians," replied Galerius, with a
transport of fury, which seemed to convulse his whole frame, "it
well becomes the Persians to expatiate on the vicissitudes of
fortune, and calmly to read us lectures on the virtues of
moderation. Let them remember their own moderation,
towards the unhappy Valerian. They vanquished him by fraud, they
treated him with indignity. They detained him till the last
moment of his life in shameful captivity, and after his death
they exposed his body to perpetual ignominy." Softening, however,
his tone, Galerius insinuated to the ambassador, that it had
never been the practice of the Romans to trample on a prostrate
enemy; and that, on this occasion, they should consult their own
dignity rather than the Persian merit. He dismissed Apharban with
a hope that Narses would soon be informed on what conditions he
might obtain, from the clemency of the emperors, a lasting peace,
and the restoration of his wives and children. In this conference
we may discover the fierce passions of Galerius, as well as his
deference to the superior wisdom and authority of Diocletian. The
ambition of the former grasped at the conquest of the East, and
had proposed to reduce Persia into the state of a province. The
prudence of the latter, who adhered to the moderate policy of
Augustus and the Antonines, embraced the favorable opportunity of
terminating a successful war by an honorable and advantageous
peace.
In pursuance of their promise, the emperors soon afterwards
appointed Sicorius Probus, one of their secretaries, to acquaint
the Persian court with their final resolution. As the minister of
peace, he was received with every mark of politeness and
friendship; but, under the pretence of allowing him the necessary
repose after so long a journey, the audience of Probus was
deferred from day to day; and he attended the slow motions of the
king, till at length he was admitted to his presence, near the
River Asprudus in Media. The secret motive of Narses, in this
delay, had been to collect such a military force as might enable
him, though sincerely desirous of peace, to negotiate with the
greater weight and dignity. Three persons only assisted at this
important conference, the minister Apharban, the præfect of
the guards, and an officer who had commanded on the Armenian
frontier. The first condition proposed by the ambassador is not
at present of a very intelligible nature; that the city of
Nisibis might be established for the place of mutual exchange,
or, as we should formerly have termed it, for the staple of
trade, between the two empires. There is no difficulty in
conceiving the intention of the Roman princes to improve their
revenue by some restraints upon commerce; but as Nisibis was
situated within their own dominions, and as they were masters
both of the imports and exports, it should seem that such
restraints were the objects of an internal law, rather than of a
foreign treaty. To render them more effectual, some stipulations
were probably required on the side of the king of Persia, which
appeared so very repugnant either to his interest or to his
dignity, that Narses could not be persuaded to subscribe them. As
this was the only article to which he refused his consent, it was
no longer insisted on; and the emperors either suffered the trade
to flow in its natural channels, or contented themselves with
such restrictions, as it depended on their own authority to
establish.
As soon as this difficulty was removed, a solemn peace was
concluded and ratified between the two nations. The conditions of
a treaty so glorious to the empire, and so necessary to Persia
Persian, may deserve a more peculiar attention, as the history of
Rome presents very few transactions of a similar nature; most of
her wars having either been terminated by absolute conquest, or
waged against barbarians ignorant of the use of letters. I. The
Aboras, or, as it is called by Xenophon, the Araxes, was fixed as
the boundary between the two monarchies. That river, which rose
near the Tigris, was increased, a few miles below Nisibis, by the
little stream of the Mygdonius, passed under the walls of
Singara, and fell into the Euphrates at Circesium, a frontier
town, which, by the care of Diocletian, was very strongly
fortified. Mesopotomia, the object of so many wars, was ceded to
the empire; and the Persians, by this treaty, renounced all
pretensions to that great province. II. They relinquished to the
Romans five provinces beyond the Tigris. Their situation formed a
very useful barrier, and their natural strength was soon improved
by art and military skill. Four of these, to the north of the
river, were districts of obscure fame and inconsiderable extent;
Intiline, Zabdicene, Arzanene, and Moxoene; but on the east of
the Tigris, the empire acquired the large and mountainous
territory of Carduene, the ancient seat of the Carduchians, who
preserved for many ages their manly freedom in the heart of the
despotic monarchies of Asia. The ten thousand Greeks traversed
their country, after a painful march, or rather engagement, of
seven days; and it is confessed by their leader, in his
incomparable relation of the retreat, that they suffered more
from the arrows of the Carduchians, than from the power of the
Great King. Their posterity, the Curds, with very little
alteration either of name or manners, * acknowledged the nominal
sovereignty of the Turkish sultan. III. It is almost needless to
observe, that Tiridates, the faithful ally of Rome, was restored
to the throne of his fathers, and that the rights of the Imperial
supremacy were fully asserted and secured. The limits of Armenia
were extended as far as the fortress of Sintha in Media, and this
increase of dominion was not so much an act of liberality as of
justice. Of the provinces already mentioned beyond the Tigris,
the four first had been dismembered by the Parthians from the
crown of Armenia; and when the Romans acquired the possession of
them, they stipulated, at the expense of the usurpers, an ample
compensation, which invested their ally with the extensive and
fertile country of Atropatene. Its principal city, in the same
situation perhaps as the modern Tauris, was frequently honored by
the residence of Tiridates; and as it sometimes bore the name of
Ecbatana, he imitated, in the buildings and fortifications, the
splendid capital of the Medes. IV. The country of Iberia was
barren, its inhabitants rude and savage. But they were accustomed
to the use of arms, and they separated from the empire barbarians
much fiercer and more formidable than themselves. The narrow
defiles of Mount Caucasus were in their hands, and it was in
their choice, either to admit or to exclude the wandering tribes
of Sarmatia, whenever a rapacious spirit urged them to penetrate
into the richer climes of the South. The nomination of the kings
of Iberia, which was resigned by the Persian monarch to the
emperors, contributed to the strength and security of the Roman
power in Asia. The East enjoyed a profound tranquillity during
forty years; and the treaty between the rival monarchies was
strictly observed till the death of Tiridates; when a new
generation, animated with different views and different passions,
succeeded to the government of the world; and the grandson of
Narses undertook a long and memorable war against the princes of
the house of Constantine.
The arduous work of rescuing the distressed empire from
tyrants and barbarians had now been completely achieved by a
succession of Illyrian peasants. As soon as Diocletian entered
into the twentieth year of his reign, he celebrated that
memorable æra, as well as the success of his arms, by the
pomp of a Roman triumph. Maximian, the equal partner of his
power, was his only companion in the glory of that day. The two
Cæsars had fought and conquered, but the merit of their
exploits was ascribed, according to the rigor of ancient maxims,
to the auspicious influence of their fathers and emperors. The
triumph of Diocletian and Maximian was less magnificent, perhaps,
than those of Aurelian and Probus, but it was dignified by
several circumstances of superior fame and good fortune. Africa
and Britain, the Rhine, the Danube, and the Nile, furnished their
respective trophies; but the most distinguished ornament was of a
more singular nature, a Persian victory followed by an important
conquest. The representations of rivers, mountains, and
provinces, were carried before the Imperial car. The images of
the captive wives, the sisters, and the children of the Great
King, afforded a new and grateful spectacle to the vanity of the
people. In the eyes of posterity, this triumph is remarkable, by
a distinction of a less honorable kind. It was the last that Rome
ever beheld. Soon after this period, the emperors ceased to
vanquish, and Rome ceased to be the capital of the empire.
The spot on which Rome was founded had been consecrated by
ancient ceremonies and imaginary miracles. The presence of some
god, or the memory of some hero, seemed to animate every part of
the city, and the empire of the world had been promised to the
Capitol. The native Romans felt and confessed the power of this
agreeable illusion. It was derived from their ancestors, had
grown up with their earliest habits of life, and was protected,
in some measure, by the opinion of political utility. The form
and the seat of government were intimately blended together, nor
was it esteemed possible to transport the one without destroying
the other. But the sovereignty of the capital was gradually
annihilated in the extent of conquest; the provinces rose to the
same level, and the vanquished nations acquired the name and
privileges, without imbibing the partial affections, of Romans.
During a long period, however, the remains of the ancient
constitution, and the influence of custom, preserved the dignity
of Rome. The emperors, though perhaps of African or Illyrian
extraction, respected their adopted country, as the seat of their
power, and the centre of their extensive dominions. The
emergencies of war very frequently required their presence on the
frontiers; but Diocletian and Maximian were the first Roman
princes who fixed, in time of peace, their ordinary residence in
the provinces; and their conduct, however it might be suggested
by private motives, was justified by very specious considerations
of policy. The court of the emperor of the West was, for the most
part, established at Milan, whose situation, at the foot of the
Alps, appeared far more convenient than that of Rome, for the
important purpose of watching the motions of the barbarians of
Germany. Milan soon assumed the splendor of an Imperial city. The
houses are described as numerous and well built; the manners of
the people as polished and liberal. A circus, a theatre, a mint,
a palace, baths, which bore the name of their founder Maximian;
porticos adorned with statues, and a double circumference of
walls, contributed to the beauty of the new capital; nor did it
seem oppressed even by the proximity of Rome. To rival the
majesty of Rome was the ambition likewise of Diocletian, who
employed his leisure, and the wealth of the East, in the
embellishment of Nicomedia, a city placed on the verge of Europe
and Asia, almost at an equal distance between the Danube and the
Euphrates. By the taste of the monarch, and at the expense of the
people, Nicomedia acquired, in the space of a few years, a degree
of magnificence which might appear to have required the labor of
ages, and became inferior only to Rome, Alexandria, and Antioch,
in extent of populousness. The life of Diocletian and Maximian
was a life of action, and a considerable portion of it was spent
in camps, or in the long and frequent marches; but whenever the
public business allowed them any relaxation, they seemed to have
retired with pleasure to their favorite residences of Nicomedia
and Milan. Till Diocletian, in the twentieth year of his reign,
celebrated his Roman triumph, it is extremely doubtful whether he
ever visited the ancient capital of the empire. Even on that
memorable occasion his stay did not exceed two months. Disgusted
with the licentious familiarity of the people, he quitted Rome
with precipitation thirteen days before it was expected that he
should have appeared in the senate, invested with the ensigns of
the consular dignity.
The dislike expressed by Diocletian towards Rome and Roman
freedom, was not the effect of momentary caprice, but the result
of the most artful policy. That crafty prince had framed a new
system of Imperial government, which was afterwards completed by
the family of Constantine; and as the image of the old
constitution was religiously preserved in the senate, he resolved
to deprive that order of its small remains of power and
consideration. We may recollect, about eight years before the
elevation, of Diocletian the transient greatness, and the
ambitious hopes, of the Roman senate. As long as that enthusiasm
prevailed, many of the nobles imprudently displayed their zeal in
the cause of freedom; and after the successes of Probus had
withdrawn their countenance from the republican party, the
senators were unable to disguise their impotent resentment. As
the sovereign of Italy, Maximian was intrusted with the care of
extinguishing this troublesome, rather than dangerous spirit, and
the task was perfectly suited to his cruel temper. The most
illustrious members of the senate, whom Diocletian always
affected to esteem, were involved, by his colleague, in the
accusation of imaginary plots; and the possession of an elegant
villa, or a well-cultivated estate, was interpreted as a
convincing evidence of guilt. The camp of the Prætorians,
which had so long oppressed, began to protect, the majesty of
Rome; and as those haughty troops were conscious of the decline
of their power, they were naturally disposed to unite their
strength with the authority of the senate. By the prudent
measures of Diocletian, the numbers of the Prætorians were
insensibly reduced, their privileges abolished, and their place
supplied by two faithful legions of Illyricum, who, under the new
titles of Jovians and Herculians, were appointed to perform the
service of the Imperial guards. But the most fatal though secret
wound, which the senate received from the hands of Diocletian and
Maximian, was inflicted by the inevitable operation of their
absence. As long as the emperors resided at Rome, that assembly
might be oppressed, but it could scarcely be neglected. The
successors of Augustus exercised the power of dictating whatever
laws their wisdom or caprice might suggest; but those laws were
ratified by the sanction of the senate. The model of ancient
freedom was preserved in its deliberations and decrees; and wise
princes, who respected the prejudices of the Roman people, were
in some measure obliged to assume the language and behavior
suitable to the general and first magistrate of the republic. In
the armies and in the provinces, they displayed the dignity of
monarchs; and when they fixed their residence at a distance from
the capital, they forever laid aside the dissimulation which
Augustus had recommended to his successors. In the exercise of
the legislative as well as the executive power, the sovereign
advised with his ministers, instead of consulting the great
council of the nation. The name of the senate was mentioned with
honor till the last period of the empire; the vanity of its
members was still flattered with honorary distinctions; but the
assembly which had so long been the source, and so long the
instrument of power, was respectfully suffered to sink into
oblivion. The senate of Rome, losing all connection with the
Imperial court and the actual constitution, was left a venerable
but useless monument of antiquity on the Capitoline hill.
Chapter XIII: Reign Of Diocletian And This Three
Associates. -- Part IV.
When the Roman princes had lost sight of the senate and of
their ancient capital, they easily forgot the origin and nature
of their legal power. The civil offices of consul, of proconsul,
of censor, and of tribune, by the union of which it had been
formed, betrayed to the people its republican extraction. Those
modest titles were laid aside; and if they still distinguished
their high station by the appellation of Emperor, or Imperator,
that word was understood in a new and more dignified sense, and
no longer denoted the general of the Roman armies, but the
sovereign of the Roman world. The name of Emperor, which was at
first of a military nature, was associated with another of a more
servile kind. The epithet of Dominus, or Lord, in its primitive
signification, was expressive, not of the authority of a prince
over his subjects, or of a commander over his soldiers, but of
the despotic power of a master over his domestic slaves. Viewing
it in that odious light, it had been rejected with abhorrence by
the first Cæsars. Their resistance insensibly became more
feeble, and the name less odious; till at length the style of
our Lord and Emperor was not only
bestowed by flattery, but was regularly admitted into the laws
and public monuments. Such lofty epithets were sufficient to
elate and satisfy the most excessive vanity; and if the
successors of Diocletian still declined the title of King, it
seems to have been the effect not so much of their moderation as
of their delicacy. Wherever the Latin tongue was in use, (and it
was the language of government throughout the empire,) the
Imperial title, as it was peculiar to themselves, conveyed a more
respectable idea than the name of king, which they must have
shared with a hundred barbarian chieftains; or which, at the
best, they could derive only from Romulus, or from Tarquin. But
the sentiments of the East were very different from those of the
West. From the earliest period of history, the sovereigns of Asia
had been celebrated in the Greek language by the title of
Basileus, or King; and since it was considered as the first
distinction among men, it was soon employed by the servile
provincials of the East, in their humble addresses to the Roman
throne. Even the attributes, or at least the titles, of the
Divinity, were usurped by Diocletian and Maximian, who
transmitted them to a succession of Christian emperors. Such
extravagant compliments, however, soon lose their impiety by
losing their meaning; and when the ear is once accustomed to the
sound, they are heard with indifference, as vague though
excessive professions of respect.
From the time of Augustus to that of Diocletian, the Roman
princes, conversing in a familiar manner among their
fellow-citizens, were saluted only with the same respect that was
usually paid to senators and magistrates. Their principal
distinction was the Imperial or military robe of purple; whilst
the senatorial garment was marked by a broad, and the equestrian
by a narrow, band or stripe of the same honorable color. The
pride, or rather the policy, of Diocletian, engaged that artful
prince to introduce the stately magnificence of the court of
Persia. He ventured to assume the diadem, an ornament detested by
the Romans as the odious ensign of royalty, and the use of which
had been considered as the most desperate act of the madness of
Caligula. It was no more than a broad white fillet set with
pearls, which encircled the emperor's head. The sumptuous robes
of Diocletian and his successors were of silk and gold; and it is
remarked with indignation, that even their shoes were studded
with the most precious gems. The access to their sacred person
was every day rendered more difficult by the institution of new
forms and ceremonies. The avenues of the palace were strictly
guarded by the various schools, as they
began to be called, of domestic officers. The interior apartments
were intrusted to the jealous vigilance of the eunuchs, the
increase of whose numbers and influence was the most infallible
symptom of the progress of despotism. When a subject was at
length admitted to the Imperial presence, he was obliged,
whatever might be his rank, to fall prostrate on the ground, and
to adore, according to the eastern fashion, the divinity of his
lord and master. Diocletian was a man of sense, who, in the
course of private as well as public life, had formed a just
estimate both of himself and of mankind: nor is it easy to
conceive, that in substituting the manners of Persia to those of
Rome, he was seriously actuated by so mean a principle as that of
vanity. He flattered himself, that an ostentation of splendor and
luxury would subdue the imagination of the multitude; that the
monarch would be less exposed to the rude license of the people
and the soldiers, as his person was secluded from the public
view; and that habits of submission would insensibly be
productive of sentiments of veneration. Like the modesty affected
by Augustus, the state maintained by Diocletian was a theatrical
representation; but it must be confessed, that of the two
comedies, the former was of a much more liberal and manly
character than the latter. It was the aim of the one to disguise,
and the object of the other to display, the unbounded power which
the emperors possessed over the Roman world.
Ostentation was the first principle of the new system
instituted by Diocletian. The second was division. He divided the
empire, the provinces, and every branch of the civil as well as
military administration. He multiplied the wheels of the machine
of government, and rendered its operations less rapid, but more
secure. Whatever advantages and whatever defects might attend
these innovations, they must be ascribed in a very great degree
to the first inventor; but as the new frame of policy was
gradually improved and completed by succeeding princes, it will
be more satisfactory to delay the consideration of it till the
season of its full maturity and perfection. Reserving, therefore,
for the reign of Constantine a more exact picture of the new
empire, we shall content ourselves with describing the principal
and decisive outline, as it was traced by the hand of Diocletian.
He had associated three colleagues in the exercise of the supreme
power; and as he was convinced that the abilities of a single man
were inadequate to the public defence, he considered the joint
administration of four princes not as a temporary expedient, but
as a fundamental law of the constitution. It was his intention,
that the two elder princes should be distinguished by the use of
the diadem, and the title of Augusti;
that, as affection or esteem might direct their choice, they
should regularly call to their assistance two subordinate
colleagues; and that the Csars, rising
in their turn to the first rank, should supply an uninterrupted
succession of emperors. The empire was divided into four parts.
The East and Italy were the most honorable, the Danube and the
Rhine the most laborious stations. The former claimed the
presence of the Augusti, the latter
were intrusted to the administration of the
Csars. The strength of the legions was
in the hands of the four partners of sovereignty, and the despair
of successively vanquishing four formidable rivals might
intimidate the ambition of an aspiring general. In their civil
government, the emperors were supposed to exercise the undivided
power of the monarch, and their edicts, inscribed with their
joint names, were received in all the provinces, as promulgated
by their mutual councils and authority. Notwithstanding these
precautions, the political union of the Roman world was gradually
dissolved, and a principle of division was introduced, which, in
the course of a few years, occasioned the perpetual separation of
the Eastern and Western Empires.
The system of Diocletian was accompanied with another very
material disadvantage, which cannot even at present be totally
overlooked; a more expensive establishment, and consequently an
increase of taxes, and the oppression of the people. Instead of a
modest family of slaves and freedmen, such as had contented the
simple greatness of Augustus and Trajan, three or four
magnificent courts were established in the various parts of the
empire, and as many Roman kings
contended with each other and with the Persian monarch for the
vain superiority of pomp and luxury. The number of ministers, of
magistrates, of officers, and of servants, who filled the
different departments of the state, was multiplied beyond the
example of former times; and (if we may borrow the warm
expression of a contemporary) "when the proportion of those who
received, exceeded the proportion of those who contributed, the
provinces were oppressed by the weight of tributes." From this
period to the extinction of the empire, it would be easy to
deduce an uninterrupted series of clamors and complaints.
According to his religion and situation, each writer chooses
either Diocletian, or Constantine, or Valens, or Theodosius, for
the object of his invectives; but they unanimously agree in
representing the burden of the public impositions, and
particularly the land tax and capitation, as the intolerable and
increasing grievance of their own times. From such a concurrence,
an impartial historian, who is obliged to extract truth from
satire, as well as from panegyric, will be inclined to divide the
blame among the princes whom they accuse, and to ascribe their
exactions much less to their personal vices, than to the uniform
system of their administration. * The emperor Diocletian was
indeed the author of that system; but during his reign, the
growing evil was confined within the bounds of modesty and
discretion, and he deserves the reproach of establishing
pernicious precedents, rather than of exercising actual
oppression. It may be added, that his revenues were managed with
prudent economy; and that after all the current expenses were
discharged, there still remained in the Imperial treasury an
ample provision either for judicious liberality or for any
emergency of the state.
It was in the twenty first year of his reign that Diocletian
executed his memorable resolution of abdicating the empire; an
action more naturally to have been expected from the elder or the
younger Antoninus, than from a prince who had never practised the
lessons of philosophy either in the attainment or in the use of
supreme power. Diocletian acquired the glory of giving to the
world the first example of a resignation, which has not been very
frequently imitated by succeeding monarchs. The parallel of
Charles the Fifth, however, will naturally offer itself to our
mind, not only since the eloquence of a modern historian has
rendered that name so familiar to an English reader, but from the
very striking resemblance between the characters of the two
emperors, whose political abilities were superior to their
military genius, and whose specious virtues were much less the
effect of nature than of art. The abdication of Charles appears
to have been hastened by the vicissitude of fortune; and the
disappointment of his favorite schemes urged him to relinquish a
power which he found inadequate to his ambition. But the reign of
Diocletian had flowed with a tide of uninterrupted success; nor
was it till after he had vanquished all his enemies, and
accomplished all his designs, that he seems to have entertained
any serious thoughts of resigning the empire. Neither Charles nor
Diocletian were arrived at a very advanced period of life; since
the one was only fifty-five, and the other was no more than
fifty-nine years of age; but the active life of those princes,
their wars and journeys, the cares of royalty, and their
application to business, had already impaired their constitution,
and brought on the infirmities of a premature old age.
Notwithstanding the severity of a very cold and rainy winter,
Diocletian left Italy soon after the ceremony of his triumph, and
began his progress towards the East round the circuit of the
Illyrian provinces. From the inclemency of the weather, and the
fatigue of the journey, he soon contracted a slow illness; and
though he made easy marches, and was generally carried in a close
litter, his disorder, before he arrived at Nicomedia, about the
end of the summer, was become very serious and alarming. During
the whole winter he was confined to his palace: his danger
inspired a general and unaffected concern; but the people could
only judge of the various alterations of his health, from the joy
or consternation which they discovered in the countenances and
behavior of his attendants. The rumor of his death was for some
time universally believed, and it was supposed to be concealed
with a view to prevent the troubles that might have happened
during the absence of the Cæsar Galerius. At length,
however, on the first of March, Diocletian once more appeared in
public, but so pale and emaciated, that he could scarcely have
been recognized by those to whom his person was the most
familiar. It was time to put an end to the painful struggle,
which he had sustained during more than a year, between the care
of his health and that of his dignity. The former required
indulgence and relaxation, the latter compelled him to direct,
from the bed of sickness, the administration of a great empire.
He resolved to pass the remainder of his days in honorable
repose, to place his glory beyond the reach of fortune, and to
relinquish the theatre of the world to his younger and more
active associates.
The ceremony of his abdication was performed in a spacious
plain, about three miles from Nicomedia. The emperor ascended a
lofty throne, and in a speech, full of reason and dignity,
declared his intention, both to the people and to the soldiers
who were assembled on this extraordinary occasion. As soon as he
had divested himself of his purple, he withdrew from the gazing
multitude; and traversing the city in a covered chariot,
proceeded, without delay, to the favorite retirement which he had
chosen in his native country of Dalmatia. On the same day, which
was the first of May, Maximian, as it had been previously
concerted, made his resignation of the Imperial dignity at Milan.
Even in the splendor of the Roman triumph, Diocletian had
meditated his design of abdicating the government. As he wished
to secure the obedience of Maximian, he exacted from him either a
general assurance that he would submit his actions to the
authority of his benefactor, or a particular promise that he
would descend from the throne, whenever he should receive the
advice and the example. This engagement, though it was confirmed
by the solemnity of an oath before the altar of the Capitoline
Jupiter, would have proved a feeble restraint on the fierce
temper of Maximian, whose passion was the love of power, and who
neither desired present tranquility nor future reputation. But he
yielded, however reluctantly, to the ascendant which his wiser
colleague had acquired over him, and retired, immediately after
his abdication, to a villa in Lucania, where it was almost
impossible that such an impatient spirit could find any lasting
tranquility.
Diocletian, who, from a servile origin, had raised himself to
the throne, passed the nine last years of his life in a private
condition. Reason had dictated, and content seems to have
accompanied, his retreat, in which he enjoyed, for a long time,
the respect of those princes to whom he had resigned the
possession of the world. It is seldom that minds long exercised
in business have formed the habits of conversing with themselves,
and in the loss of power they principally regret the want of
occupation. The amusements of letters and of devotion, which
afford so many resources in solitude, were incapable of fixing
the attention of Diocletian; but he had preserved, or at least he
soon recovered, a taste for the most innocent as well as natural
pleasures, and his leisure hours were sufficiently employed in
building, planting, and gardening. His answer to Maximian is
deservedly celebrated. He was solicited by that restless old man
to reassume the reins of government, and the Imperial purple. He
rejected the temptation with a smile of pity, calmly observing,
that if he could show Maximian the cabbages which he had planted
with his own hands at Salona, he should no longer be urged to
relinquish the enjoyment of happiness for the pursuit of power.
In his conversations with his friends, he frequently
acknowledged, that of all arts, the most difficult was the art of
reigning; and he expressed himself on that favorite topic with a
degree of warmth which could be the result only of experience.
"How often," was he accustomed to say, "is it the interest of
four or five ministers to combine together to deceive their
sovereign! Secluded from mankind by his exalted dignity, the
truth is concealed from his knowledge; he can see only with their
eyes, he hears nothing but their misrepresentations. He confers
the most important offices upon vice and weakness, and disgraces
the most virtuous and deserving among his subjects. By such
infamous arts," added Diocletian, "the best and wisest princes
are sold to the venal corruption of their courtiers." A just
estimate of greatness, and the assurance of immortal fame,
improve our relish for the pleasures of retirement; but the Roman
emperor had filled too important a character in the world, to
enjoy without alloy the comforts and security of a private
condition. It was impossible that he could remain ignorant of the
troubles which afflicted the empire after his abdication. It was
impossible that he could be indifferent to their consequences.
Fear, sorrow, and discontent, sometimes pursued him into the
solitude of Salona. His tenderness, or at least his pride, was
deeply wounded by the misfortunes of his wife and daughter; and
the last moments of Diocletian were imbittered by some affronts,
which Licinius and Constantine might have spared the father of so
many emperors, and the first author of their own fortune. A
report, though of a very doubtful nature, has reached our times,
that he prudently withdrew himself from their power by a
voluntary death.
Before we dismiss the consideration of the life and character
of Diocletian, we may, for a moment, direct our view to the place
of his retirement. Salona, a principal city of his native
province of Dalmatia, was near two hundred Roman miles (according
to the measurement of the public highways) from Aquileia and the
confines of Italy, and about two hundred and seventy from
Sirmium, the usual residence of the emperors whenever they
visited the Illyrian frontier. A miserable village still
preserves the name of Salona; but so late as the sixteenth
century, the remains of a theatre, and a confused prospect of
broken arches and marble columns, continued to attest its ancient
splendor. About six or seven miles from the city, Diocletian
constructed a magnificent palace, and we may infer, from the
greatness of the work, how long he had meditated his design of
abdicating the empire. The choice of a spot which united all that
could contribute either to health or to luxury, did not require
the partiality of a native. "The soil was dry and fertile, the
air is pure and wholesome, and though extremely hot during the
summer months, this country seldom feels those sultry and noxious
winds, to which the coasts of Istria and some parts of Italy are
exposed. The views from the palace are no less beautiful than the
soil and climate were inviting. Towards the west lies the fertile
shore that stretches along the Adriatic, in which a number of
small islands are scattered in such a manner, as to give this
part of the sea the appearance of a great lake. On the north side
lies the bay, which led to the ancient city of Salona; and the
country beyond it, appearing in sight, forms a proper contrast to
that more extensive prospect of water, which the Adriatic
presents both to the south and to the east. Towards the north,
the view is terminated by high and irregular mountains, situated
at a proper distance, and in many places covered with villages,
woods, and vineyards."
Though Constantine, from a very obvious prejudice, affects to
mention the palace of Diocletian with contempt, yet one of their
successors, who could only see it in a neglected and mutilated
state, celebrates its magnificence in terms of the highest
admiration. It covered an extent of ground consisting of between
nine and ten English acres. The form was quadrangular, flanked
with sixteen towers. Two of the sides were near six hundred, and
the other two near seven hundred feet in length. The whole was
constructed of a beautiful freestone, extracted from the
neighboring quarries of Trau, or Tragutium, and very little
inferior to marble itself. Four streets, intersecting each other
at right angles, divided the several parts of this great edifice,
and the approach to the principal apartment was from a very
stately entrance, which is still denominated the Golden Gate. The
approach was terminated by a peristylium of granite columns, on
one side of which we discover the square temple of
Æsculapius, on the other the octagon temple of Jupiter. The
latter of those deities Diocletian revered as the patron of his
fortunes, the former as the protector of his health. By comparing
the present remains with the precepts of Vitruvius, the several
parts of the building, the baths, bed-chamber, the atrium, the
basilica, and the Cyzicene, Corinthian, and Egyptian halls have
been described with some degree of precision, or at least of
probability. Their forms were various, their proportions just;
but they all were attended with two imperfections, very repugnant
to our modern notions of taste and conveniency. These stately
rooms had neither windows nor chimneys. They were lighted from
the top, (for the building seems to have consisted of no more
than one story,) and they received their heat by the help of
pipes that were conveyed along the walls. The range of principal
apartments was protected towards the south-west by a portico five
hundred and seventeen feet long, which must have formed a very
noble and delightful walk, when the beauties of painting and
sculpture were added to those of the prospect.
Had this magnificent edifice remained in a solitary country,
it would have been exposed to the ravages of time; but it might,
perhaps, have escaped the rapacious industry of man. The village
of Aspalathus, and, long afterwards, the provincial town of
Spalatro, have grown out of its ruins. The Golden Gate now opens
into the market-place. St. John the Baptist has usurped the
honors of Æsculapius; and the temple of Jupiter, under the
protection of the Virgin, is converted into the cathedral church.
For this account of Diocletian's palace we are principally
indebted to an ingenious artist of our own time and country, whom
a very liberal curiosity carried into the heart of Dalmatia. But
there is room to suspect that the elegance of his designs and
engraving has somewhat flattered the objects which it was their
purpose to represent. We are informed by a more recent and very
judicious traveller, that the awful ruins of Spalatro are not
less expressive of the decline of the art than of the greatness
of the Roman empire in the time of Diocletian. If such was indeed
the state of architecture, we must naturally believe that
painting and sculpture had experienced a still more sensible
decay. The practice of architecture is directed by a few general
and even mechanical rules. But sculpture, and above all,
painting, propose to themselves the imitation not only of the
forms of nature, but of the characters and passions of the human
soul. In those sublime arts, the dexterity of the hand is of
little avail, unless it is animated by fancy, and guided by the
most correct taste and observation.
It is almost unnecessary to remark, that the civil
distractions of the empire, the license of the soldiers, the
inroads of the barbarians, and the progress of despotism, had
proved very unfavorable to genius, and even to learning. The
succession of Illyrian princes restored the empire without
restoring the sciences. Their military education was not
calculated to inspire them with the love of letters; and even the
mind of Diocletian, however active and capacious in business, was
totally uninformed by study or speculation. The professions of
law and physic are of such common use and certain profit, that
they will always secure a sufficient number of practitioners,
endowed with a reasonable degree of abilities and knowledge; but
it does not appear that the students in those two faculties
appeal to any celebrated masters who have flourished within that
period. The voice of poetry was silent. History was reduced to
dry and confused abridgments, alike destitute of amusement and
instruction. A languid and affected eloquence was still retained
in the pay and service of the emperors, who encouraged not any
arts except those which contributed to the gratification of their
pride, or the defence of their power.
The declining age of learning and of mankind is marked,
however, by the rise and rapid progress of the new Platonists.
The school of Alexandria silenced those of Athens; and the
ancient sects enrolled themselves under the banners of the more
fashionable teachers, who recommended their system by the novelty
of their method, and the austerity of their manners. Several of
these masters, Ammonius, Plotinus, Amelius, and Porphyry, were
men of profound thought and intense application; but by mistaking
the true object of philosophy, their labors contributed much less
to improve than to corrupt the human understanding. The knowledge
that is suited to our situation and powers, the whole compass of
moral, natural, and mathematical science, was neglected by the
new Platonists; whilst they exhausted their strength in the
verbal disputes of metaphysics, attempted to explore the secrets
of the invisible world, and studied to reconcile Aristotle with
Plato, on subjects of which both these philosophers were as
ignorant as the rest of mankind. Consuming their reason in these
deep but unsubstantial meditations, their minds were exposed to
illusions of fancy. They flattered themselves that they possessed
the secret of disengaging the soul from its corporal prison;
claimed a familiar intercourse with demons and spirits; and, by a
very singular revolution, converted the study of philosophy into
that of magic. The ancient sages had derided the popular
superstition; after disguising its extravagance by the thin
pretence of allegory, the disciples of Plotinus and Porphyry
became its most zealous defenders. As they agreed with the
Christians in a few mysterious points of faith, they attacked the
remainder of their theological system with all the fury of civil
war. The new Platonists would scarcely deserve a place in the
history of science, but in that of the church the mention of them
will very frequently occur.
Chapter XIV: Six Emperors At The Same Time, Reunion Of The Empire.
Part I.
Troubles After The Abdication Of Diocletian. -- Death Of
Constantius. -- Elevation Of Constantine And Maxen Tius.
Six Emperors At The Same Time. -- Death Of Maximian And Galerius.
-- Victories Of Constantine Over Maxentius And Licinus. --
Reunion Of The Empire Under The Authority Of Constantine.
The balance of power established by Diocletian subsisted no
longer than while it was sustained by the firm and dexterous hand
of the founder. It required such a fortunate mixture of different
tempers and abilities, as could scarcely be found or even
expected a second time; two emperors without jealousy, two
Cæsars without ambition, and the same general interest
invariably pursued by four independent princes. The abdication of
Diocletian and Maximian was succeeded by eighteen years of
discord and confusion. The empire was afflicted by five civil
wars; and the remainder of the time was not so much a state of
tranquillity as a suspension of arms between several hostile
monarchs, who, viewing each other with an eye of fear and hatred,
strove to increase their respective forces at the expense of
their subjects.
As soon as Diocletian and Maximian had resigned the purple,
their station, according to the rules of the new constitution,
was filled by the two Cæsars, Constantius and Galerius, who
immediately assumed the title of Augustus.
The honors of seniority and precedence were allowed to the
former of those princes, and he continued under a new appellation
to administer his ancient department of Gaul, Spain, and Britain.
The government of those ample provinces was sufficient to
exercise his talents and to satisfy his ambition. Clemency,
temperance, and moderation, distinguished the amiable character
of Constantius, and his fortunate subjects had frequently
occasion to compare the virtues of their sovereign with the
passions of Maximian, and even with the arts of Diocletian.
Instead of imitating their eastern pride and magnificence,
Constantius preserved the modesty of a Roman prince. He declared,
with unaffected sincerity, that his most valued treasure was in
the hearts of his people, and that, whenever the dignity of the
throne, or the danger of the state, required any extraordinary
supply, he could depend with confidence on their gratitude and
liberality. The provincials of Gaul, Spain, and Britain, sensible
of his worth, and of their own happiness, reflected with anxiety
on the declining health of the emperor Constantius, and the
tender age of his numerous family, the issue of his second
marriage with the daughter of Maximian.
The stern temper of Galerius was cast in a very different
mould; and while he commanded the esteem of his subjects, he
seldom condescended to solicit their affections. His fame in
arms, and, above all, the success of the Persian war, had elated
his haughty mind, which was naturally impatient of a superior, or
even of an equal. If it were possible to rely on the partial
testimony of an injudicious writer, we might ascribe the
abdication of Diocletian to the menaces of Galerius, and relate
the particulars of a private
conversation between the two princes, in which the former
discovered as much pusillanimity as the latter displayed
ingratitude and arrogance. But these obscure anecdotes are
sufficiently refuted by an impartia view of the character and
conduct of Diocletian. Whatever might otherwise have been his
intentions, if he had apprehended any danger from the violence of
Galerius, his good sense would have instructed him to prevent the
ignominious contest; and as he had held the sceptre with glory,
he would have resigned it without disgrace.
After the elevation of Constantius and Galerius to the rank of
Augusti, two new
Csars were required to supply their
place, and to complete the system of the Imperial government.
Diocletian, was sincerely desirous of withdrawing himself from
the world; he considered Galerius, who had married his daughter,
as the firmest support of his family and of the empire; and he
consented, without reluctance, that his successor should assume
the merit as well as the envy of the important nomination. It was
fixed without consulting the interest or inclination of the
princes of the West. Each of them had a son who was arrived at
the age of manhood, and who might have been deemed the most
natural candidates for the vacant honor. But the impotent
resentment of Maximian was no longer to be dreaded; and the
moderate Constantius, though he might despise the dangers, was
humanely apprehensive of the calamities, of civil war. The two
persons whom Galerius promoted to the rank of Cæsar, were
much better suited to serve the views of his ambition; and their
principal recommendation seems to have consisted in the want of
merit or personal consequence. The first of these was Daza, or,
as he was afterwards called, Maximin, whose mother was the sister
of Galerius. The unexperienced youth still betrayed, by his
manners and language, his rustic education, when, to his own
astonishment, as well as that of the world, he was invested by
Diocletian with the purple, exalted to the dignity of
Cæsar, and intrusted with the sovereign command of Egypt
and Syria. At the same time, Severus, a faithful servant,
addicted to pleasure, but not incapable of business, was sent to
Milan, to receive, from the reluctant hands of Maximian, the
Cæsarian ornaments, and the possession of Italy and Africa.
According to the forms of the constitution, Severus acknowledged
the supremacy of the western emperor; but he was absolutely
devoted to the commands of his benefactor Galerius, who,
reserving to himself the intermediate countries from the confines
of Italy to those of Syria, firmly established his power over
three fourths of the monarchy. In the full confidence that the
approaching death of Constantius would leave him sole master of
the Roman world, we are assured that he had arranged in his mind
a long succession of future princes, and that he meditated his
own retreat from public life, after he should have accomplished a
glorious reign of about twenty years.
But within less than eighteen months, two unexpected
revolutions overturned the ambitious schemes of Galerius. The
hopes of uniting the western provinces to his empire were
disappointed by the elevation of Constantine, whilst Italy and
Africa were lost by the successful revolt of Maxentius.
I. The fame of Constantine has rendered posterity attentive to
the most minute circumstances of his life and actions. The place
of his birth, as well as the condition of his mother Helena, have
been the subject, not only of literary, but of national disputes.
Notwithstanding the recent tradition, which assigns for her
father a British king, we are obliged to confess, that Helena was
the daughter of an innkeeper; but at the same time, we may defend
the legality of her marriage, against those who have represented
her as the concubine of Constantius. The great Constantine was
most probably born at Naissus, in Dacia; and it is not surprising
that, in a family and province distinguished only by the
profession of arms, the youth should discover very little
inclination to improve his mind by the acquisition of knowledge.
He was about eighteen years of age when his father was promoted
to the rank of Cæsar; but that fortunate event was attended
with his mother's divorce; and the splendor of an Imperial
alliance reduced the son of Helena to a state of disgrace and
humiliation. Instead of following Constantius in the West, he
remained in the service of Diocletian, signalized his valor in
the wars of Egypt and Persia, and gradually rose to the honorable
station of a tribune of the first order. The figure of
Constantine was tall and majestic; he was dexterous in all his
exercises, intrepid in war, affable in peace; in his whole
conduct, the active spirit of youth was tempered by habitual
prudence; and while his mind was engrossed by ambition, he
appeared cold and insensible to the allurements of pleasure. The
favor of the people and soldiers, who had named him as a worthy
candidate for the rank of Cæsar, served only to exasperate
the jealousy of Galerius; and though prudence might restrain him
from exercising any open violence, an absolute monarch is seldom
at a loss now to execute a sure and secret evenge. Every hour
increased the danger of Constantine, and the anxiety of his
father, who, by repeated letters, expressed the warmest desire of
embracing his son. For some time the policy of Galerius supplied
him with delays and excuses; but it was impossible long to refuse
so natural a request of his associate, without maintaining his
refusal by arms. The permission of the journey was reluctantly
granted, and whatever precautions the emperor might have taken to
intercept a return, the consequences of which he, with so much
reason, apprehended, they were effectually disappointed by the
incredible diligence of Constantine. Leaving the palace of
Nicomedia in the night, he travelled post through Bithynia,
Thrace, Dacia, Pannonia, Italy, and Gaul, and, amidst the joyful
acclamations of the people, reached the port of Boulogne in the
very moment when his father was preparing to embark for
Britain.
The British expedition, and an easy victory over the
barbarians of Caledonia, were the last exploits of the reign of
Constantius. He ended his life in the Imperial palace of York,
fifteen months after he had received the title of Augustus, and
almost fourteen years and a half after he had been promoted to
the rank of Cæsar. His death was immediately succeeded by
the elevation of Constantine. The ideas of inheritance and
succession are so very familiar, that the generality of mankind
consider them as founded, not only in reason, but in nature
itself. Our imagination readily transfers the same principles
from private property to public dominion: and whenever a virtuous
father leaves behind him a son whose merit seems to justify the
esteem, or even the hopes, of the people, the joint influence of
prejudice and of affection operates with irresistible weight. The
flower of the western armies had followed Constantius into
Britain, and the national troops were reenforced by a numerous
body of Alemanni, who obeyed the orders of Crocus, one of their
hereditary chieftains. The opinion of their own importance, and
the assurance that Britain, Gaul, and Spain would acquiesce in
their nomination, were diligently inculcated to the legions by
the adherents of Constantine. The soldiers were asked, whether
they could hesitate a moment between the honor of placing at
their head the worthy son of their beloved emperor, and the
ignominy of tamely expecting the arrival of some obscure
stranger, on whom it might please the sovereign of Asia to bestow
the armies and provinces of the West. It was insinuated to them,
that gratitude and liberality held a distinguished place among
the virtues of Constantine; nor did that artful prince show
himself to the troops, till they were prepared to salute him with
the names of Augustus and Emperor. The throne was the object of
his desires; and had he been less actuated by ambition, it was
his only means of safety. He was well acquainted with the
character and sentiments of Galerius, and sufficiently apprised,
that if he wished to live he must determine to reign. The decent
and even obstinate resistance which he chose to affect, was
contrived to justify his usurpation; nor did he yield to the
acclamations of the army, till he had provided the proper
materials for a letter, which he immediately despatched to the
emperor of the East. Constantine informed him of the melancholy
event of his father's death, modestly asserted his natural claim
to the succession, and respectfully lamented, that the
affectionate violence of his troops had not permitted him to
solicit the Imperial purple in the regular and constitutional
manner. The first emotions of Galerius were those of surprise,
disappointment, and rage; and as he could seldom restrain his
passions, he loudly threatened, that he would commit to the
flames both the letter and the messenger. But his resentment
insensibly subsided; and when he recollected the doubtful chance
of war, when he had weighed the character and strength of his
adversary, he consented to embrace the honorable accommodation
which the prudence of Constantine had left open to him. Without
either condemning or ratifying the choice of the British army,
Galerius accepted the son of his deceased colleague as the
sovereign of the provinces beyond the Alps; but he gave him only
the title of Cæsar, and the fourth rank among the Roman
princes, whilst he conferred the vacant place of Augustus on his
favorite Severus. The apparent harmony of the empire was still
preserved, and Constantine, who already possessed the substance,
expected, without impatience, an opportunity of obtaining the
honors, of supreme power.
The children of Constantius by his second marriage were six in
number, three of either sex, and whose Imperial descent might
have solicited a preference over the meaner extraction of the son
of Helena. But Constantine was in the thirty-second year of his
age, in the full vigor both of mind and body, at the time when
the eldest of his brothers could not possibly be more than
thirteen years old. His claim of superior merit had been allowed
and ratified by the dying emperor. In his last moments
Constantius bequeathed to his eldest son the care of the safety
as well as greatness of the family; conjuring him to assume both
the authority and the sentiments of a father with regard to the
children of Theodora. Their liberal education, advantageous
marriages, the secure dignity of their lives, and the first
honors of the state with which they were invested, attest the
fraternal affection of Constantine; and as those princes
possessed a mild and grateful disposition, they submitted without
reluctance to the superiority of his genius and fortune.
II. The ambitious spirit of Galerius was scarcely reconciled
to the disappointment of his views upon the Gallic provinces,
before the unexpected loss of Italy wounded his pride as well as
power in a still more sensible part. The long absence of the
emperors had filled Rome with discontent and indignation; and the
people gradually discovered, that the preference given to
Nicomedia and Milan was not to be ascribed to the particular
inclination of Diocletian, but to the permanent form of
government which he had instituted. It was in vain that, a few
months after his abdication, his successors dedicated, under his
name, those magnificent baths, whose ruins still supply the
ground as well as the materials for so many churches and
convents. The tranquility of those elegant recesses of ease and
luxury was disturbed by the impatient murmurs of the Romans, and
a report was insensibly circulated, that the sums expended in
erecting those buildings would soon be required at their hands.
About that time the avarice of Galerius, or perhaps the
exigencies of the state, had induced him to make a very strict
and rigorous inquisition into the property of his subjects, for
the purpose of a general taxation, both on their lands and on
their persons. A very minute survey appears to have been taken of
their real estates; and wherever there was the slightest
suspicion of concealment, torture was very freely employed to
obtain a sincere declaration of their personal wealth. The
privileges which had exalted Italy above the rank of the
provinces were no longer regarded: * and the officers of the
revenue already began to number the Roman people, and to settle
the proportion of the new taxes. Even when the spirit of freedom
had been utterly extinguished, the tamest subjects have sometimes
ventured to resist an unprecedented invasion of their property;
but on this occasion the injury was aggravated by the insult, and
the sense of private interest was quickened by that of national
honor. The conquest of Macedonia, as we have already observed,
had delivered the Roman people from the weight of personal taxes.
Though they had experienced every form of despotism, they had now
enjoyed that exemption near five hundred years; nor could they
patiently brook the insolence of an Illyrian peasant, who, from
his distant residence in Asia, presumed to number Rome among the
tributary cities of his empire. The rising fury of the people was
encouraged by the authority, or at least the connivance, of the
senate; and the feeble remains of the Prætorian guards, who
had reason to apprehend their own dissolution, embraced so
honorable a pretence, and declared their readiness to draw their
swords in the service of their oppressed country. It was the
wish, and it soon became the hope, of every citizen, that after
expelling from Italy their foreign tyrants, they should elect a
prince who, by the place of his residence, and by his maxims of
government, might once more deserve the title of Roman emperor.
The name, as well as the situation, of Maxentius determined in
his favor the popular enthusiasm.
Maxentius was the son of the emperor Maximian, and he had
married the daughter of Galerius. His birth and alliance seemed
to offer him the fairest promise of succeeding to the empire; but
his vices and incapacity procured him the same exclusion from the
dignity of Cæsar, which Constantine had deserved by a
dangerous superiority of merit. The policy of Galerius preferred
such associates as would never disgrace the choice, nor dispute
the commands, of their benefactor. An obscure stranger was
therefore raised to the throne of Italy, and the son of the late
emperor of the West was left to enjoy the luxury of a private
fortune in a villa a few miles distant from the capital. The
gloomy passions of his soul, shame, vexation, and rage, were
inflamed by envy on the news of Constantine's success; but the
hopes of Maxentius revived with the public discontent, and he was
easily persuaded to unite his personal injury and pretensions
with the cause of the Roman people. Two Prætorian tribunes
and a commissary of provisions undertook the management of the
conspiracy; and as every order of men was actuated by the same
spirit, the immediate event was neither doubtful nor difficult.
The præfect of the city, and a few magistrates, who
maintained their fidelity to Severus, were massacred by the
guards; and Maxentius, invested with the Imperial ornaments, was
acknowledged by the applauding senate and people as the protector
of the Roman freedom and dignity. It is uncertain whether
Maximian was previously acquainted with the conspiracy; but as
soon as the standard of rebellion was erected at Rome, the old
emperor broke from the retirement where the authority of
Diocletian had condemned him to pass a life of melancholy and
solitude, and concealed his returning ambition under the disguise
of paternal tenderness. At the request of his son and of the
senate, he condescended to reassume the purple. His ancient
dignity, his experience, and his fame in arms, added strength as
well as reputation to the party of Maxentius.
According to the advice, or rather the orders, of his
colleague, the emperor Severus immediately hastened to Rome, in
the full confidence, that, by his unexpected celerity, he should
easily suppress the tumult of an unwarlike populace, commanded by
a licentious youth. But he found on his arrival the gates of the
city shut against him, the walls filled with men and arms, an
experienced general at the head of the rebels, and his own troops
without spirit or affection. A large body of Moors deserted to
the enemy, allured by the promise of a large donative; and, if it
be true that they had been levied by Maximian in his African war,
preferring the natural feelings of gratitude to the artificial
ties of allegiance. Anulinus, the Prætorian præfect,
declared himself in favor of Maxentius, and drew after him the
most considerable part of the troops, accustomed to obey his
commands. Rome, according to the expression of an orator,
recalled her armies; and the unfortunate Severus, destitute of
force and of counsel, retired, or rather fled, with
precipitation, to Ravenna. Here he might for some time have been
safe. The fortifications of Ravenna were able to resist the
attempts, and the morasses that surrounded the town, were
sufficient to prevent the approach, of the Italian army. The sea,
which Severus commanded with a powerful fleet, secured him an
inexhaustible supply of provisions, and gave a free entrance to
the legions, which, on the return of spring, would advance to his
assistance from Illyricum and the East. Maximian, who conducted
the siege in person, was soon convinced that he might waste his
time and his army in the fruitless enterprise, and that he had
nothing to hope either from force or famine. With an art more
suitable to the character of Diocletian than to his own, he
directed his attack, not so much against the walls of Ravenna, as
against the mind of Severus. The treachery which he had
experienced disposed that unhappy prince to distrust the most
sincere of his friends and adherents. The emissaries of Maximian
easily persuaded his credulity, that a conspiracy was formed to
betray the town, and prevailed upon his fears not to expose
himself to the discretion of an irritated conqueror, but to
accept the faith of an honorable capitulation. He was at first
received with humanity and treated with respect. Maximian
conducted the captive emperor to Rome, and gave him the most
solemn assurances that he had secured his life by the resignation
of the purple. But Severus, could obtain only an easy death and
an Imperial funeral. When the sentence was signified to him, the
manner of executing it was left to his own choice; he preferred
the favorite mode of the ancients, that of opening his veins; and
as soon as he expired, his body was carried to the sepulchre
which had been constructed for the family of Gallienus.
Chapter XIV: Six Emperors At The Same Time,
Reunion Of The Empire. -- Part II.
Though the characters of Constantine and Maxentius had very
little affinity with each other, their situation and interest
were the same; and prudence seemed to require that they should
unite their forces against the common enemy. Notwithstanding the
superiority of his age and dignity, the indefatigable Maximian
passed the Alps, and, courting a personal interview with the
sovereign of Gaul, carried with him his daughter Fausta as the
pledge of the new alliance. The marriage was celebrated at Arles
with every circumstance of magnificence; and the ancient
colleague of Diocletian, who again asserted his claim to the
Western empire, conferred on his son-in-law and ally the title of
Augustus. By consenting to receive that honor from Maximian,
Constantine seemed to embrace the cause of Rome and of the
senate; but his professions were ambiguous, and his assistance
slow and ineffectual. He considered with attention the
approaching contest between the masters of Italy and the emperor
of the East, and was prepared to consult his own safety or
ambition in the event of the war.
The importance of the occasion called for the presence and
abilities of Galerius. At the head of a powerful army, collected
from Illyricum and the East, he entered Italy, resolved to
revenge the death of Severus, and to chastise the rebellions
Romans; or, as he expressed his intentions, in the furious
language of a barbarian, to extirpate the senate, and to destroy
the people by the sword. But the skill of Maximian had concerted
a prudent system of defence. The invader found every place
hostile, fortified, and inaccessible; and though he forced his
way as far as Narni, within sixty miles of Rome, his dominion in
Italy was confined to the narrow limits of his camp. Sensible of
the increasing difficulties of his enterprise, the haughty
Galerius made the first advances towards a reconciliation, and
despatched two of his most considerable officers to tempt the
Roman princes by the offer of a conference, and the declaration
of his paternal regard for Maxentius, who might obtain much more
from his liberality than he could hope from the doubtful chance
of war. The offers of Galerius were rejected with firmness, his
perfidious friendship refused with contempt, and it was not long
before he discovered, that, unless he provided for his safety by
a timely retreat, he had some reason to apprehend the fate of
Severus. The wealth which the Romans defended against his
rapacious tyranny, they freely contributed for his destruction.
The name of Maximian, the popular arts of his son, the secret
distribution of large sums, and the promise of still more liberal
rewards, checked the ardor and corrupted the fidelity of the
Illyrian legions; and when Galerius at length gave the signal of
the retreat, it was with some difficulty that he could prevail on
his veterans not to desert a banner which had so often conducted
them to victory and honor. A contemporary writer assigns two
other causes for the failure of the expedition; but they are both
of such a nature, that a cautious historian will scarcely venture
to adopt them. We are told that Galerius, who had formed a very
imperfect notion of the greatness of Rome by the cities of the
East with which he was acquainted, found his forces inadequate to
the siege of that immense capital. But the extent of a city
serves only to render it more accessible to the enemy: Rome had
long since been accustomed to submit on the approach of a
conqueror; nor could the temporary enthusiasm of the people have
long contended against the discipline and valor of the legions.
We are likewise informed that the legions themselves were struck
with horror and remorse, and that those pious sons of the
republic refused to violate the sanctity of their venerable
parent. But when we recollect with how much ease, in the more
ancient civil wars, the zeal of party and the habits of military
obedience had converted the native citizens of Rome into her most
implacable enemies, we shall be inclined to distrust this extreme
delicacy of strangers and barbarians, who had never beheld Italy
till they entered it in a hostile manner. Had they not been
restrained by motives of a more interested nature, they would
probably have answered Galerius in the words of Cæsar's
veterans: "If our general wishes to lead us to the banks of the
Tyber, we are prepared to trace out his camp. Whatsoever walls he
has determined to level with the ground, our hands are ready to
work the engines: nor shall we hesitate, should the name of the
devoted city be Rome itself." These are indeed the expressions of
a poet; but of a poet who has been distinguished, and even
censured, for his strict adherence to the truth of history.
The legions of Galerius exhibited a very melancholy proof of
their disposition, by the ravages which they committed in their
retreat. They murdered, they ravished, they plundered, they drove
away the flocks and herds of the Italians; they burnt the
villages through which they passed, and they endeavored to
destroy the country which it had not been in their power to
subdue. During the whole march, Maxentius hung on their rear, but
he very prudently declined a general engagement with those brave
and desperate veterans. His father had undertaken a second
journey into Gaul, with the hope of persuading Constantine, who
had assembled an army on the frontier, to join in the pursuit,
and to complete the victory. But the actions of Constantine were
guided by reason, and not by resentment. He persisted in the wise
resolution of maintaining a balance of power in the divided
empire, and he no longer hated Galerius, when that aspiring
prince had ceased to be an object of terror.
The mind of Galerius was the most susceptible of the sterner
passions, but it was not, however, incapable of a sincere and
lasting friendship. Licinius, whose manners as well as character,
were not unlike his own, seems to have engaged both his affection
and esteem. Their intimacy had commenced in the happier period
perhaps of their youth and obscurity. It had been cemented by the
freedom and dangers of a military life; they had advanced almost
by equal steps through the successive honors of the service; and
as soon as Galerius was invested with the Imperial dignity, he
seems to have conceived the design of raising his companion to
the same rank with himself. During the short period of his
prosperity, he considered the rank of Cæsar as unworthy of
the age and merit of Licinius, and rather chose to reserve for
him the place of Constantius, and the empire of the West. While
the emperor was employed in the Italian war, he intrusted his
friend with the defence of the Danube; and immediately after his
return from that unfortunate expedition, he invested Licinius
with the vacant purple of Severus, resigning to his immediate
command the provinces of Illyricum. The news of his promotion was
no sooner carried into the East, than Maximin, who governed, or
rather oppressed, the countries of Egypt and Syria, betrayed his
envy and discontent, disdained the inferior name of Cæsar,
and, notwithstanding the prayers as well as arguments of
Galerius, exacted, almost by violence, the equal title of
Augustus. For the first, and indeed for the last time, the Roman
world was administered by six emperors. In the West, Constantine
and Maxentius affected to reverence their father Maximian. In the
East, Licinius and Maximin honored with more real consideration
their benefactor Galerius. The opposition of interest, and the
memory of a recent war, divided the empire into two great hostile
powers; but their mutual fears produced an apparent tranquillity,
and even a feigned reconciliation, till the death of the elder
princes, of Maximian, and more particularly of Galerius, gave a
new direction to the views and passions of their surviving
associates.
When Maximian had reluctantly abdicated the empire, the venal
orators of the times applauded his philosophic moderation. When
his ambition excited, or at least encouraged, a civil war, they
returned thanks to his generous patriotism, and gently censured
that love of ease and retirement which had withdrawn him from the
public service. But it was impossible that minds like those of
Maximian and his son could long possess in harmony an undivided
power. Maxentius considered himself as the legal sovereign of
Italy, elected by the Roman senate and people; nor would he
endure the control of his father, who arrogantly declared that by
his name and abilities the rash youth had been established on the
throne. The cause was solemnly pleaded before the Prætorian
guards; and those troops, who dreaded the severity of the old
emperor, espoused the party of Maxentius. The life and freedom of
Maximian were, however, respected, and he retired from Italy into
Illyricum, affecting to lament his past conduct, and secretly
contriving new mischiefs. But Galerius, who was well acquainted
with his character, soon obliged him to leave his dominions, and
the last refuge of the disappointed Maximian was the court of his
son-in-law Constantine. He was received with respect by that
artful prince, and with the appearance of filial tenderness by
the empress Fausta. That he might remove every suspicion, he
resigned the Imperial purple a second time, professing himself at
length convinced of the vanity of greatness and ambition. Had he
persevered in this resolution, he might have ended his life with
less dignity, indeed, than in his first retirement, yet, however,
with comfort and reputation. But the near prospect of a throne
brought back to his remembrance the state from whence he was
fallen, and he resolved, by a desperate effort either to reign or
to perish. An incursion of the Franks had summoned Constantine,
with a part of his army, to the banks of the Rhine; the remainder
of the troops were stationed in the southern provinces of Gaul,
which lay exposed to the enterprises of the Italian emperor, and
a considerable treasure was deposited in the city of Arles.
Maximian either craftily invented, or easily credited, a vain
report of the death of Constantine. Without hesitation he
ascended the throne, seized the treasure, and scattering it with
his accustomed profusion among the soldiers, endeavored to awake
in their minds the memory of his ancient dignity and exploits.
Before he could establish his authority, or finish the
negotiation which he appears to have entered into with his son
Maxentius, the celerity of Constantine defeated all his hopes. On
the first news of his perfidy and ingratitude, that prince
returned by rapid marches from the Rhine to the Saone, embarked
on the last mentioned river at Chalons, and at Lyons trusting
himself to the rapidity of the Rhone, arrived at the gates of
Arles, with a military force which it was impossible for Maximian
to resist, and which scarcely permitted him to take refuge in the
neighboring city of Marseilles. The narrow neck of land which
joined that place to the continent was fortified against the
besiegers, whilst the sea was open, either for the escape of
Maximian, or for the succor of Maxentius, if the latter should
choose to disguise his invasion of Gaul under the honorable
pretence of defending a distressed, or, as he might allege, an
injured father. Apprehensive of the fatal consequences of delay,
Constantine gave orders for an immediate assault; but the
scaling-ladders were found too short for the height of the walls,
and Marseilles might have sustained as long a siege as it
formerly did against the arms of Cæsar, if the garrison,
conscious either of their fault or of their danger, had not
purchased their pardon by delivering up the city and the person
of Maximian. A secret but irrevocable sentence of death was
pronounced against the usurper; he obtained only the same favor
which he had indulged to Severus, and it was published to the
world, that, oppressed by the remorse of his repeated crimes, he
strangled himself with his own hands. After he had lost the
assistance, and disdained the moderate counsels of Diocletian,
the second period of his active life was a series of public
calamities and personal mortifications, which were terminated, in
about three years, by an ignominious death. He deserved his fate;
but we should find more reason to applaud the humanity of
Constantine, if he had spared an old man, the benefactor of his
father, and the father of his wife. During the whole of this
melancholy transaction, it appears that Fausta sacrificed the
sentiments of nature to her conjugal duties.
The last years of Galerius were less shameful and unfortunate;
and though he had filled with more glory the subordinate station
of Cæsar than the superior rank of Augustus, he preserved,
till the moment of his death, the first place among the princes
of the Roman world. He survived his retreat from Italy about four
years; and wisely relinquishing his views of universal empire, he
devoted the remainder of his life to the enjoyment of pleasure,
and to the execution of some works of public utility, among which
we may distinguish the discharging into the Danube the
superfluous waters of the Lake Pelso, and the cutting down the
immense forests that encompassed it; an operation worthy of a
monarch, since it gave an extensive country to the agriculture of
his Pannonian subjects. His death was occasioned by a very
painful and lingering disorder. His body, swelled by an
intemperate course of life to an unwieldy corpulence, was covered
with ulcers, and devoured by innumerable swarms of those insects
which have given their name to a most loathsome disease; but as
Galerius had offended a very zealous and powerful party among his
subjects, his sufferings, instead of exciting their compassion,
have been celebrated as the visible effects of divine justice. He
had no sooner expired in his palace of Nicomedia, than the two
emperors who were indebted for their purple to his favors, began
to collect their forces, with the intention either of disputing,
or of dividing, the dominions which he had left without a master.
They were persuaded, however, to desist from the former design,
and to agree in the latter. The provinces of Asia fell to the
share of Maximin, and those of Europe augmented the portion of
Licinius. The Hellespont and the Thracian Bosphorus formed their
mutual boundary, and the banks of those narrow seas, which flowed
in the midst of the Roman world, were covered with soldiers, with
arms, and with fortifications. The deaths of Maximian and of
Galerius reduced the number of emperors to four. The sense of
their true interest soon connected Licinius and Constantine; a
secret alliance was concluded between Maximin and Maxentius, and
their unhappy subjects expected with terror the bloody
consequences of their inevitable dissensions, which were no
longer restrained by the fear or the respect which they had
entertained for Galerius.
Among so many crimes and misfortunes, occasioned by the
passions of the Roman princes, there is some pleasure in
discovering a single action which may be ascribed to their
virtue. In the sixth year of his reign, Constantine visited the
city of Autun, and generously remitted the arrears of tribute,
reducing at the same time the proportion of their assessment from
twenty-five to eighteen thousand heads, subject to the real and
personal capitation. Yet even this indulgence affords the most
unquestionable proof of the public misery. This tax was so
extremely oppressive, either in itself or in the mode of
collecting it, that whilst the revenue was increased by
extortion, it was diminished by despair: a considerable part of
the territory of Autun was left uncultivated; and great numbers
of the provincials rather chose to live as exiles and outlaws,
than to support the weight of civil society. It is but too
probable, that the bountiful emperor relieved, by a partial act
of liberality, one among the many evils which he had caused by
his general maxims of administration. But even those maxims were
less the effect of choice than of necessity. And if we except the
death of Maximian, the reign of Constantine in Gaul seems to have
been the most innocent and even virtuous period of his life. The
provinces were protected by his presence from the inroads of the
barbarians, who either dreaded or experienced his active valor.
After a signal victory over the Franks and Alemanni, several of
their princes were exposed by his order to the wild beasts in the
amphitheatre of Treves, and the people seem to have enjoyed the
spectacle, without discovering, in such a treatment of royal
captives, any thing that was repugnant to the laws of nations or
of humanity. *
The virtues of Constantine were rendered more illustrious by
the vices of Maxentius. Whilst the Gallic provinces enjoyed as
much happiness as the condition of the times was capable of
receiving, Italy and Africa groaned under the dominion of a
tyrant, as contemptible as he was odious. The zeal of flattery
and faction has indeed too frequently sacrificed the reputation
of the vanquished to the glory of their successful rivals; but
even those writers who have revealed, with the most freedom and
pleasure, the faults of Constantine, unanimously confess that
Maxentius was cruel, rapacious, and profligate. He had the good
fortune to suppress a slight rebellion in Africa. The governor
and a few adherents had been guilty; the province suffered for
their crime. The flourishing cities of Cirtha and Carthage, and
the whole extent of that fertile country, were wasted by fire and
sword. The abuse of victory was followed by the abuse of law and
justice. A formidable army of sycophants and delators invaded
Africa; the rich and the noble were easily convicted of a
connection with the rebels; and those among them who experienced
the emperor's clemency, were only punished by the confiscation of
their estates. So signal a victory was celebrated by a
magnificent triumph, and Maxentius exposed to the eyes of the
people the spoils and captives of a Roman province. The state of
the capital was no less deserving of compassion than that of
Africa. The wealth of Rome supplied an inexhaustible fund for his
vain and prodigal expenses, and the ministers of his revenue were
skilled in the arts of rapine. It was under his reign that the
method of exacting a free gift from the
senators was first invented; and as the sum was insensibly
increased, the pretences of levying it, a victory, a birth, a
marriage, or an imperial consulship, were proportionably
multiplied. Maxentius had imbibed the same implacable aversion to
the senate, which had characterized most of the former tyrants of
Rome; nor was it possible for his ungrateful temper to forgive
the generous fidelity which had raised him to the throne, and
supported him against all his enemies. The lives of the senators
were exposed to his jealous suspicions, the dishonor of their
wives and daughters heightened the gratification of his sensual
passions. It may be presumed, that an Imperial lover was seldom
reduced to sigh in vain; but whenever persuasion proved
ineffectual, he had recourse to violence; and there remains
one memorable example of a noble
matron, who preserved her chastity by a voluntary death. The
soldiers were the only order of men whom he appeared to respect,
or studied to please. He filled Rome and Italy with armed troops,
connived at their tumults, suffered them with impunity to
plunder, and even to massacre, the defenceless people; and
indulging them in the same licentiousness which their emperor
enjoyed, Maxentius often bestowed on his military favorites the
splendid villa, or the beautiful wife, of a senator. A prince of
such a character, alike incapable of governing, either in peace
or in war, might purchase the support, but he could never obtain
the esteem, of the army. Yet his pride was equal to his other
vices. Whilst he passed his indolent life either within the walls
of his palace, or in the neighboring gardens of Sallust, he was
repeatedly heard to declare, that he
alone was emperor, and that the other
princes were no more than his lieutenants, on whom he had
devolved the defence of the frontier provinces, that he might
enjoy without interruption the elegant luxury of the capital.
Rome, which had so long regretted the absence, lamented, during
the six years of his reign, the presence of her sovereign.
Though Constantine might view the conduct of Maxentius with
abhorrence, and the situation of the Romans with compassion, we
have no reason to presume that he would have taken up arms to
punish the one or to relieve the other. But the tyrant of Italy
rashly ventured to provoke a formidable enemy, whose ambition had
been hitherto restrained by considerations of prudence, rather
than by principles of justice. After the death of Maximian, his
titles, according to the established custom, had been erased, and
his statues thrown down with ignominy. His son, who had
persecuted and deserted him when alive, effected to display the
most pious regard for his memory, and gave orders that a similar
treatment should be immediately inflicted on all the statues that
had been erected in Italy and Africa to the honor of Constantine.
That wise prince, who sincerely wished to decline a war, with the
difficulty and importance of which he was sufficiently
acquainted, at first dissembled the insult, and sought for
redress by the milder expedient of negotiation, till he was
convinced that the hostile and ambitious designs of the Italian
emperor made it necessary for him to arm in his own defence.
Maxentius, who openly avowed his pretensions to the whole
monarchy of the West, had already prepared a very considerable
force to invade the Gallic provinces on the side of Rhætia;
and though he could not expect any assistance from Licinius, he
was flattered with the hope that the legions of Illyricum,
allured by his presents and promises, would desert the standard
of that prince, and unanimously declare themselves his soldiers
and subjects. Constantine no longer hesitated. He had deliberated
with caution, he acted with vigor. He gave a private audience to
the ambassadors, who, in the name of the senate and people,
conjured him to deliver Rome from a detested tyrant; and without
regarding the timid remonstrances of his council, he resolved to
prevent the enemy, and to carry the war into the heart of
Italy.
The enterprise was as full of danger as of glory; and the
unsuccessful event of two former invasions was sufficient to
inspire the most serious apprehensions. The veteran troops, who
revered the name of Maximian, had embraced in both those wars the
party of his son, and were now restrained by a sense of honor, as
well as of interest, from entertaining an idea of a second
desertion. Maxentius, who considered the Prætorian guards
as the firmest defence of his throne, had increased them to their
ancient establishment; and they composed, including the rest of
the Italians who were enlisted into his service, a formidable
body of fourscore thousand men. Forty thousand Moors and
Carthaginians had been raised since the reduction of Africa. Even
Sicily furnished its proportion of troops; and the armies of
Maxentius amounted to one hundred and seventy thousand foot and
eighteen thousand horse. The wealth of Italy supplied the
expenses of the war; and the adjacent provinces were exhausted,
to form immense magazines of corn and every other kind of
provisions.
The whole force of Constantine consisted of ninety thousand
foot and eight thousand horse; and as the defence of the Rhine
required an extraordinary attention during the absence of the
emperor, it was not in his power to employ above half his troops
in the Italian expedition, unless he sacrificed the public safety
to his private quarrel. At the head of about forty thousand
soldiers he marched to encounter an enemy whose numbers were at
least four times superior to his own. But the armies of Rome,
placed at a secure distance from danger, were enervated by
indulgence and luxury. Habituated to the baths and theatres of
Rome, they took the field with reluctance, and were chiefly
composed of veterans who had almost forgotten, or of new levies
who had never acquired, the use of arms and the practice of war.
The hardy legions of Gaul had long defended the frontiers of the
empire against the barbarians of the North; and in the
performance of that laborious service, their valor was exercised
and their discipline confirmed. There appeared the same
difference between the leaders as between the armies. Caprice or
flattery had tempted Maxentius with the hopes of conquest; but
these aspiring hopes soon gave way to the habits of pleasure and
the consciousness of his inexperience. The intrepid mind of
Constantine had been trained from his earliest youth to war, to
action, and to military command.
Chapter XIV: Six Emperors At The Same Time,
Reunion Of The Empire. -- Part III.
When Hannibal marched from Gaul into Italy, he was obliged,
first to discover, and then to open, a way over mountains, and
through savage nations, that had never yielded a passage to a
regular army. The Alps were then guarded by nature, they are now
fortified by art. Citadels, constructed with no less skill than
labor and expense, command every avenue into the plain, and on
that side render Italy almost inaccessible to the enemies of the
king of Sardinia. But in the course of the intermediate period,
the generals, who have attempted the passage, have seldom
experienced any difficulty or resistance. In the age of
Constantine, the peasants of the mountains were civilized and
obedient subjects; the country was plentifully stocked with
provisions, and the stupendous highways, which the Romans had
carried over the Alps, opened several communications between Gaul
and Italy. Constantine preferred the road of the Cottian Alps,
or, as it is now called, of Mount Cenis, and led his troops with
such active diligence, that he descended into the plain of
Piedmont before the court of Maxentius had received any certain
intelligence of his departure from the banks of the Rhine. The
city of Susa, however, which is situated at the foot of Mount
Cenis, was surrounded with walls, and provided with a garrison
sufficiently numerous to check the progress of an invader; but
the impatience of Constantine's troops disdained the tedious
forms of a siege. The same day that they appeared before Susa,
they applied fire to the gates, and ladders to the walls; and
mounting to the assault amidst a shower of stones and arrows,
they entered the place sword in hand, and cut in pieces the
greatest part of the garrison. The flames were extinguished by
the care of Constantine, and the remains of Susa preserved from
total destruction. About forty miles from thence, a more severe
contest awaited him. A numerous army of Italians was assembled
under the lieutenants of Maxentius, in the plains of Turin. Its
principal strength consisted in a species of heavy cavalry, which
the Romans, since the decline of their discipline, had borrowed
from the nations of the East. The horses, as well as the men,
were clothed in complete armor, the joints of which were artfully
adapted to the motions of their bodies. The aspect of this
cavalry was formidable, their weight almost irresistible; and as,
on this occasion, their generals had drawn them up in a compact
column or wedge, with a sharp point, and with spreading flanks,
they flattered themselves that they could easily break and
trample down the army of Constantine. They might, perhaps, have
succeeded in their design, had not their experienced adversary
embraced the same method of defence, which in similar
circumstances had been practised by Aurelian. The skilful
evolutions of Constantine divided and baffled this massy column
of cavalry. The troops of Maxentius fled in confusion towards
Turin; and as the gates of the city were shut against them, very
few escaped the sword of the victorious pursuers. By this
important service, Turin deserved to experience the clemency and
even favor of the conqueror. He made his entry into the Imperial
palace of Milan, and almost all the cities of Italy between the
Alps and the Po not only acknowledged the power, but embraced
with zeal the party, of Constantine.
From Milan to Rome, the Æmilian and Flaminian highways
offered an easy march of about four hundred miles; but though
Constantine was impatient to encounter the tyrant, he prudently
directed his operations against another army of Italians, who, by
their strength and position, might either oppose his progress,
or, in case of a misfortune, might intercept his retreat.
Ruricius Pompeianus, a general distinguished by his valor and
ability, had under his command the city of Verona, and all the
troops that were stationed in the province of Venetia. As soon as
he was informed that Constantine was advancing towards him, he
detached a large body of cavalry which was defeated in an
engagement near Brescia, and pursued by the Gallic legions as far
as the gates of Verona. The necessity, the importance, and the
difficulties of the siege of Verona, immediately presented
themselves to the sagacious mind of Constantine. The city was
accessible only by a narrow peninsula towards the west, as the
other three sides were surrounded by the Adige, a rapid river,
which covered the province of Venetia, from whence the besieged
derived an inexhaustible supply of men and provisions. It was not
without great difficulty, and after several fruitless attempts,
that Constantine found means to pass the river at some distance
above the city, and in a place where the torrent was less
violent. He then encompassed Verona with strong lines, pushed his
attacks with prudent vigor, and repelled a desperate sally of
Pompeianus. That intrepid general, when he had used every means
of defence that the strength of the place or that of the garrison
could afford, secretly escaped from Verona, anxious not for his
own, but for the public safety. With indefatigable diligence he
soon collected an army sufficient either to meet Constantine in
the field, or to attack him if he obstinately remained within his
lines. The emperor, attentive to the motions, and informed of the
approach of so formidable an enemy, left a part of his legions to
continue the operations of the siege, whilst, at the head of
those troops on whose valor and fidelity he more particularly
depended, he advanced in person to engage the general of
Maxentius. The army of Gaul was drawn up in two lines, according
to the usual practice of war; but their experienced leader,
perceiving that the numbers of the Italians far exceeded his own,
suddenly changed his disposition, and, reducing the second,
extended the front of his first line to a just proportion with
that of the enemy. Such evolutions, which only veteran troops can
execute without confusion in a moment of danger, commonly prove
decisive; but as this engagement began towards the close of the
day, and was contested with great obstinacy during the whole
night, there was less room for the conduct of the generals than
for the courage of the soldiers. The return of light displayed
the victory of Constantine, and a field of carnage covered with
many thousands of the vanquished Italians. Their general,
Pompeianus, was found among the slain; Verona immediately
surrendered at discretion, and the garrison was made prisoners of
war. When the officers of the victorious army congratulated their
master on this important success, they ventured to add some
respectful complaints, of such a nature, however, as the most
jealous monarchs will listen to without displeasure. They
represented to Constantine, that, not contented with all the
duties of a commander, he had exposed his own person with an
excess of valor which almost degenerated into rashness; and they
conjured him for the future to pay more regard to the
preservation of a life in which the safety of Rome and of the
empire was involved.
While Constantine signalized his conduct and valor in the
field, the sovereign of Italy appeared insensible of the
calamities and danger of a civil war which reigned in the heart
of his dominions. Pleasure was still the only business of
Maxentius. Concealing, or at least attempting to conceal, from
the public knowledge the misfortunes of his arms, he indulged
himself in a vain confidence which deferred the remedies of the
approaching evil, without deferring the evil itself. The rapid
progress of Constantine was scarcely sufficient to awaken him
from his fatal security; he flattered himself, that his
well-known liberality, and the majesty of the Roman name, which
had already delivered him from two invasions, would dissipate
with the same facility the rebellious army of Gaul. The officers
of experience and ability, who had served under the banners of
Maximian, were at length compelled to inform his effeminate son
of the imminent danger to which he was reduced; and, with a
freedom that at once surprised and convinced him, to urge the
necessity of preventing his ruin, by a vigorous exertion of his
remaining power. The resources of Maxentius, both of men and
money, were still considerable. The Prætorian guards felt
how strongly their own interest and safety were connected with
his cause; and a third army was soon collected, more numerous
than those which had been lost in the battles of Turin and
Verona. It was far from the intention of the emperor to lead his
troops in person. A stranger to the exercises of war, he trembled
at the apprehension of so dangerous a contest; and as fear is
commonly superstitious, he listened with melancholy attention to
the rumors of omens and presages which seemed to menace his life
and empire. Shame at length supplied the place of courage, and
forced him to take the field. He was unable to sustain the
contempt of the Roman people. The circus resounded with their
indignant clamors, and they tumultuously besieged the gates of
the palace, reproaching the pusillanimity of their indolent
sovereign, and celebrating the heroic spirit of Constantine.
Before Maxentius left Rome, he consulted the Sibylline books. The
guardians of these ancient oracles were as well versed in the
arts of this world as they were ignorant of the secrets of fate;
and they returned him a very prudent answer, which might adapt
itself to the event, and secure their reputation, whatever should
be the chance of arms.
The celerity of Constantine's march has been compared to the
rapid conquest of Italy by the first of the Cæsars; nor is
the flattering parallel repugnant to the truth of history, since
no more than fifty-eight days elapsed between the surrender of
Verona and the final decision of the war. Constantine had always
apprehended that the tyrant would consult the dictates of fear,
and perhaps of prudence; and that, instead of risking his last
hopes in a general engagement, he would shut himself up within
the walls of Rome. His ample magazines secured him against the
danger of famine; and as the situation of Constantine admitted
not of delay, he might have been reduced to the sad necessity of
destroying with fire and sword the Imperial city, the noblest
reward of his victory, and the deliverance of which had been the
motive, or rather indeed the pretence, of the civil war. It was
with equal surprise and pleasure, that on his arrival at a place
called Saxa Rubra, about nine miles from Rome, he discovered the
army of Maxentius prepared to give him battle. Their long front
filled a very spacious plain, and their deep array reached to the
banks of the Tyber, which covered their rear, and forbade their
retreat. We are informed, and we may believe, that Constantine
disposed his troops with consummate skill, and that he chose for
himself the post of honor and danger. Distinguished by the
splendor of his arms, he charged in person the cavalry of his
rival; and his irresistible attack determined the fortune of the
day. The cavalry of Maxentius was principally composed either of
unwieldy cuirassiers, or of light Moors and Numidians. They
yielded to the vigor of the Gallic horse, which possessed more
activity than the one, more firmness than the other. The defeat
of the two wings left the infantry without any protection on its
flanks, and the undisciplined Italians fled without reluctance
from the standard of a tyrant whom they had always hated, and
whom they no longer feared. The Prætorians, conscious that
their offences were beyond the reach of mercy, were animated by
revenge and despair. Notwithstanding their repeated efforts,
those brave veterans were unable to recover the victory: they
obtained, however, an honorable death; and it was observed that
their bodies covered the same ground which had been occupied by
their ranks. The confusion then became general, and the dismayed
troops of Maxentius, pursued by an implacable enemy, rushed by
thousands into the deep and rapid stream of the Tyber. The
emperor himself attempted to escape back into the city over the
Milvian bridge; but the crowds which pressed together through
that narrow passage forced him into the river, where he was
immediately drowned by the weight of his armor. His body, which
had sunk very deep into the mud, was found with some difficulty
the next day. The sight of his head, when it was exposed to the
eyes of the people, convinced them of their deliverance, and
admonished them to receive with acclamations of loyalty and
gratitude the fortunate Constantine, who thus achieved by his
valor and ability the most splendid enterprise of his life.
In the use of victory, Constantine neither deserved the praise
of clemency, nor incurred the censure of immoderate rigor. He
inflicted the same treatment to which a defeat would have exposed
his own person and family, put to death the two sons of the
tyrant, and carefully extirpated his whole race. The most
distinguished adherents of Maxentius must have expected to share
his fate, as they had shared his prosperity and his crimes; but
when the Roman people loudly demanded a greater number of
victims, the conqueror resisted with firmness and humanity, those
servile clamors, which were dictated by flattery as well as by
resentment. Informers were punished and discouraged; the
innocent, who had suffered under the late tyranny, were recalled
from exile, and restored to their estates. A general act of
oblivion quieted the minds and settled the property of the
people, both in Italy and in Africa. The first time that
Constantine honored the senate with his presence, he
recapitulated his own services and exploits in a modest oration,
assured that illustrious order of his sincere regard, and
promised to reestablish its ancient dignity and privileges. The
grateful senate repaid these unmeaning professions by the empty
titles of honor, which it was yet in their power to bestow; and
without presuming to ratify the authority of Constantine, they
passed a decree to assign him the first rank among the three
Augusti who governed the Roman world.
Games and festivals were instituted to preserve the fame of his
victory, and several edifices, raised at the expense of
Maxentius, were dedicated to the honor of his successful rival.
The triumphal arch of Constantine still remains a melancholy
proof of the decline of the arts, and a singular testimony of the
meanest vanity. As it was not possible to find in the capital of
the empire a sculptor who was capable of adorning that public
monument, the arch of Trajan, without any respect either for his
memory or for the rules of propriety, was stripped of its most
elegant figures. The difference of times and persons, of actions
and characters, was totally disregarded. The Parthian captives
appear prostrate at the feet of a prince who never carried his
arms beyond the Euphrates; and curious antiquarians can still
discover the head of Trajan on the trophies of Constantine. The
new ornaments which it was necessary to introduce between the
vacancies of ancient sculpture are executed in the rudest and
most unskillful manner.
The final abolition of the Prætorian guards was a
measure of prudence as well as of revenge. Those haughty troops,
whose numbers and privileges had been restored, and even
augmented, by Maxentius, were forever suppressed by Constantine.
Their fortified camp was destroyed, and the few Prætorians
who had escaped the fury of the sword were dispersed among the
legions, and banished to the frontiers of the empire, where they
might be serviceable without again becoming dangerous. By
suppressing the troops which were usually stationed in Rome,
Constantine gave the fatal blow to the dignity of the senate and
people, and the disarmed capital was exposed without protection
to the insults or neglect of its distant master. We may observe,
that in this last effort to preserve their expiring freedom, the
Romans, from the apprehension of a tribute, had raised Maxentius
to the throne. He exacted that tribute from the senate under the
name of a free gift. They implored the assistance of Constantine.
He vanquished the tyrant, and converted the free gift into a
perpetual tax. The senators, according to the declaration which
was required of their property, were divided into several
classes. The most opulent paid annually eight pounds of gold, the
next class paid four, the last two, and those whose poverty might
have claimed an exemption, were assessed, however, at seven
pieces of gold. Besides the regular members of the senate, their
sons, their descendants, and even their relations, enjoyed the
vain privileges, and supported the heavy burdens, of the
senatorial order; nor will it any longer excite our surprise,
that Constantine should be attentive to increase the number of
persons who were included under so useful a description. After
the defeat of Maxentius, the victorious emperor passed no more
than two or three months in Rome, which he visited twice during
the remainder of his life, to celebrate the solemn festivals of
the tenth and of the twentieth years of his reign. Constantine
was almost perpetually in motion, to exercise the legions, or to
inspect the state of the provinces. Treves, Milan, Aquileia,
Sirmium, Naissus, and Thessalonica, were the occasional places of
his residence, till he founded a new Rome on the confines of
Europe and Asia.
Before Constantine marched into Italy, he had secured the
friendship, or at least the neutrality, of Licinius, the Illyrian
emperor. He had promised his sister Constantia in marriage to
that prince; but the celebration of the nuptials was deferred
till after the conclusion of the war, and the interview of the
two emperors at Milan, which was appointed for that purpose,
appeared to cement the union of their families and interests. In
the midst of the public festivity they were suddenly obliged to
take leave of each other. An inroad of the Franks summoned
Constantine to the Rhime, and the hostile approach of the
sovereign of Asia demanded the immediate presence of Licinius.
Maximin had been the secret ally of Maxentius, and without being
discouraged by his fate, he resolved to try the fortune of a
civil war. He moved out of Syria, towards the frontiers of
Bithynia, in the depth of winter. The season was severe and
tempestuous; great numbers of men as well as horses perished in
the snow; and as the roads were broken up by incessant rains, he
was obliged to leave behind him a considerable part of the heavy
baggage, which was unable to follow the rapidity of his forced
marches. By this extraordinary effort of diligence, he arrived
with a harassed but formidable army, on the banks of the Thracian
Bosphorus before the lieutenants of Licinius were apprised of his
hostile intentions. Byzantium surrendered to the power of
Maximin, after a siege of eleven days. He was detained some days
under the walls of Heraclea; and he had no sooner taken
possession of that city, than he was alarmed by the intelligence,
that Licinius had pitched his camp at the distance of only
eighteen miles. After a fruitless negotiation, in which the two
princes attempted to seduce the fidelity of each other's
adherents, they had recourse to arms. The emperor of the East
commanded a disciplined and veteran army of above seventy
thousand men; and Licinius, who had collected about thirty
thousand Illyrians, was at first oppressed by the superiority of
numbers. His military skill, and the firmness of his troops,
restored the day, and obtained a decisive victory. The incredible
speed which Maximin exerted in his flight is much more celebrated
than his prowess in the battle. Twenty-four hours afterwards he
was seen, pale, trembling, and without his Imperial ornaments, at
Nicomedia, one hundred and sixty miles from the place of his
defeat. The wealth of Asia was yet unexhausted; and though the
flower of his veterans had fallen in the late action, he had
still power, if he could obtain time, to draw very numerous
levies from Syria and Egypt. But he survived his misfortune only
three or four months. His death, which happened at Tarsus, was
variously ascribed to despair, to poison, and to the divine
justice. As Maximin was alike destitute of abilities and of
virtue, he was lamented neither by the people nor by the
soldiers. The provinces of the East, delivered from the terrors
of civil war, cheerfully acknowledged the authority of
Licinius.
The vanquished emperor left behind him two children, a boy of
about eight, and a girl of about seven, years old. Their
inoffensive age might have excited compassion; but the compassion
of Licinius was a very feeble resource, nor did it restrain him
from extinguishingthe name and memory
of his adversary. The death of Severianus will admit of less
excuse, as it was dictated neither by revenge nor by policy. The
conqueror had never received any injury from the father of that
unhappy youth, and the short and obscure reign of Severus, in a
distant part of the empire, was already forgotten. But the
execution of Candidianus was an act of the blackest cruelty and
ingratitude. He was the natural son of Galerius, the friend and
benefactor of Licinius. The prudent father had judged him too
young to sustain the weight of a diadem; but he hoped that, under
the protection of princes who were indebted to his favor for the
Imperial purple, Candidianus might pass a secure and honorable
life. He was now advancing towards the twentieth year of his age,
and the royalty of his birth, though unsupported either by merit
or ambition, was sufficient to exasperate the jealous mind of
Licinius. To these innocent and illustrious victims of his
tyranny, we must add the wife and daughter of the emperor
Diocletian. When that prince conferred on Galerius the title of
Cæsar, he had given him in marriage his daughter Valeria,
whose melancholy adventures might furnish a very singular subject
for tragedy. She had fulfilled and even surpassed the duties of a
wife. As she had not any children herself, she condescended to
adopt the illegitimate son of her husband, and invariably
displayed towards the unhappy Candidianus the tenderness and
anxiety of a real mother. After the death of Galerius, her ample
possessions provoked the avarice, and her personal attractions
excited the desires, of his successor, Maximin. He had a wife
still alive; but divorce was permitted by the Roman law, and the
fierce passions of the tyrant demanded an immediate
gratification. The answer of Valeria was such as became the
daughter and widow of emperors; but it was tempered by the
prudence which her defenceless condition compelled her to
observe. She represented to the persons whom Maximin had employed
on this occasion, "that even if honor could permit a woman of her
character and dignity to entertain a thought of second nuptials,
decency at least must forbid her to listen to his addresses at a
time when the ashes of her husband, and his benefactor were still
warm, and while the sorrows of her mind were still expressed by
her mourning garments. She ventured to declare, that she could
place very little confidence in the professions of a man whose
cruel inconstancy was capable of repudiating a faithful and
affectionate wife." On this repulse, the love of Maximin was
converted into fury; and as witnesses and judges were always at
his disposal, it was easy for him to cover his fury with an
appearance of legal proceedings, and to assault the reputation as
well as the happiness of Valeria. Her estates were confiscated,
her eunuchs and domestics devoted to the most inhuman tortures;
and several innocent and respectable matrons, who were honored
with her friendship, suffered death, on a false accusation of
adultery. The empress herself, together with her mother Prisca,
was condemned to exile; and as they were ignominiously hurried
from place to place before they were confined to a sequestered
village in the deserts of Syria, they exposed their shame and
distress to the provinces of the East, which, during thirty
years, had respected their august dignity. Diocletian made
several ineffectual efforts to alleviate the misfortunes of his
daughter; and, as the last return that he expected for the
Imperial purple, which he had conferred upon Maximin, he
entreated that Valeria might be permitted to share his retirement
of Salona, and to close the eyes of her afflicted father. He
entreated; but as he could no longer threaten, his prayers were
received with coldness and disdain; and the pride of Maximin was
gratified, in treating Diocletian as a suppliant, and his
daughter as a criminal. The death of Maximin seemed to assure the
empresses of a favorable alteration in their fortune. The public
disorders relaxed the vigilance of their guard, and they easily
found means to escape from the place of their exile, and to
repair, though with some precaution, and in disguise, to the
court of Licinius. His behavior, in the first days of his reign,
and the honorable reception which he gave to young Candidianus,
inspired Valeria with a secret satisfaction, both on her own
account and on that of her adopted son. But these grateful
prospects were soon succeeded by horror and astonishment; and the
bloody executions which stained the palace of Nicomedia
sufficiently convinced her that the throne of Maximin was filled
by a tyrant more inhuman than himself. Valeria consulted her
safety by a hasty flight, and, still accompanied by her mother
Prisca, they wandered above fifteen months through the provinces,
concealed in the disguise of plebeian habits. They were at length
discovered at Thessalonica; and as the sentence of their death
was already pronounced, they were immediately beheaded, and their
bodies thrown into the sea. The people gazed on the melancholy
spectacle; but their grief and indignation were suppressed by the
terrors of a military guard. Such was the unworthy fate of the
wife and daughter of Diocletian. We lament their misfortunes, we
cannot discover their crimes; and whatever idea we may justly
entertain of the cruelty of Licinius, it remains a matter of
surprise that he was not contented with some more secret and
decent method of revenge.
The Roman world was now divided between Constantine and
Licinius, the former of whom was master of the West, and the
latter of the East. It might perhaps have been expected that the
conquerors, fatigued with civil war, and connected by a private
as well as public alliance, would have renounced, or at least
would have suspended, any further designs of ambition. And yet a
year had scarcely elapsed after the death of Maximin, before the
victorious emperors turned their arms against each other. The
genius, the success, and the aspiring temper of Constantine, may
seem to mark him out as the aggressor; but the perfidious
character of Licinius justifies the most unfavorable suspicions,
and by the faint light which history reflects on this
transaction, we may discover a conspiracy fomented by his arts
against the authority of his colleague. Constantine had lately
given his sister Anastasia in marriage to Bassianus, a man of a
considerable family and fortune, and had elevated his new kinsman
to the rank of Cæsar. According to the system of government
instituted by Diocletian, Italy, and perhaps Africa, were
designed for his department in the empire. But the performance of
the promised favor was either attended with so much delay, or
accompanied with so many unequal conditions, that the fidelity of
Bassianus was alienated rather than secured by the honorable
distinction which he had obtained. His nomination had been
ratified by the consent of Licinius; and that artful prince, by
the means of his emissaries, soon contrived to enter into a
secret and dangerous correspondence with the new Cæsar, to
irritate his discontents, and to urge him to the rash enterprise
of extorting by violence what he might in vain solicit from the
justice of Constantine. But the vigilant emperor discovered the
conspiracy before it was ripe for execution; and after solemnly
renouncing the alliance of Bassianus, despoiled him of the
purple, and inflicted the deserved punishment on his treason and
ingratitude. The haughty refusal of Licinius, when he was
required to deliver up the criminals who had taken refuge in his
dominions, confirmed the suspicions already entertained of his
perfidy; and the indignities offered at Æmona, on the
frontiers of Italy, to the statues of Constantine, became the
signal of discord between the two princes.
The first battle was fought near Cibalis, a city of Pannonia,
situated on the River Save, about fifty miles above Sirmium. From
the inconsiderable forces which in this important contest two
such powerful monarchs brought into the field, it may be inferred
that the one was suddenly provoked, and that the other was
unexpectedly surprised. The emperor of the West had only twenty
thousand, and the sovereign of the East no more than five and
thirty thousand, men. The inferiority of number was, however,
compensated by the advantage of the ground. Constantine had taken
post in a defile about half a mile in breadth, between a steep
hill and a deep morass, and in that situation he steadily
expected and repulsed the first attack of the enemy. He pursued
his success, and advanced into the plain. But the veteran legions
of Illyricum rallied under the standard of a leader who had been
trained to arms in the school of Probus and Diocletian. The
missile weapons on both sides were soon exhausted; the two
armies, with equal valor, rushed to a closer engagement of swords
and spears, and the doubtful contest had already lasted from the
dawn of the day to a late hour of the evening, when the right
wing, which Constantine led in person, made a vigorous and
decisive charge. The judicious retreat of Licinius saved the
remainder of his troops from a total defeat; but when he computed
his loss, which amounted to more than twenty thousand men, he
thought it unsafe to pass the night in the presence of an active
and victorious enemy. Abandoning his camp and magazines, he
marched away with secrecy and diligence at the head of the
greatest part of his cavalry, and was soon removed beyond the
danger of a pursuit. His diligence preserved his wife, his son,
and his treasures, which he had deposited at Sirmium. Licinius
passed through that city, and breaking down the bridge on the
Save, hastened to collect a new army in Dacia and Thrace. In his
flight he bestowed the precarious title of Cæsar on Valens,
his general of the Illyrian frontier.
Chapter XIV: Six Emperors At The Same Time,
Reunion Of The Empire. -- Part IV.
The plain of Mardia in Thrace was the theatre of a second
battle no less obstinate and bloody than the former. The troops
on both sides displayed the same valor and discipline; and the
victory was once more decided by the superior abilities of
Constantine, who directed a body of five thousand men to gain an
advantageous height, from whence, during the heat of the action,
they attacked the rear of the enemy, and made a very considerable
slaughter. The troops of Licinius, however, presenting a double
front, still maintained their ground, till the approach of night
put an end to the combat, and secured their retreat towards the
mountains of Macedonia. The loss of two battles, and of his
bravest veterans, reduced the fierce spirit of Licinius to sue
for peace. His ambassador Mistrianus was admitted to the audience
of Constantine: he expatiated on the common topics of moderation
and humanity, which are so familiar to the eloquence of the
vanquished; represented in the most insinuating language, that
the event of the war was still doubtful, whilst its inevitable
calamities were alike pernicious to both the contending parties;
and declared that he was authorized to propose a lasting and
honorable peace in the name of the two
emperors his masters. Constantine received the mention of Valens
with indignation and contempt. "It was not for such a purpose,"
he sternly replied, "that we have advanced from the shores of the
western ocean in an uninterrupted course of combats and
victories, that, after rejecting an ungrateful kinsman, we should
accept for our colleague a contemptible slave. The abdication of
Valens is the first article of the treaty." It was necessary to
accept this humiliating condition; and the unhappy Valens, after
a reign of a few days, was deprived of the purple and of his
life. As soon as this obstacle was removed, the tranquillity of
the Roman world was easily restored. The successive defeats of
Licinius had ruined his forces, but they had displayed his
courage and abilities. His situation was almost desperate, but
the efforts of despair are sometimes formidable, and the good
sense of Constantine preferred a great and certain advantage to a
third trial of the chance of arms. He consented to leave his
rival, or, as he again styled Licinius, his friend and brother,
in the possession of Thrace, Asia Minor, Syria, and Egypt; but
the provinces of Pannonia, Dalmatia, Dacia, Macedonia, and
Greece, were yielded to the Western empire, and the dominions of
Constantine now extended from the confines of Caledonia to the
extremity of Peloponnesus. It was stipulated by the same treaty,
that three royal youths, the sons of emperors, should be called
to the hopes of the succession. Crispus and the young Constantine
were soon afterwards declared Cæsars in the West, while the
younger Licinius was invested with the same dignity in the East.
In this double proportion of honors, the conqueror asserted the
superiority of his arms and power.
The reconciliation of Constantine and Licinius, though it was
imbittered by resentment and jealousy, by the remembrance of
recent injuries, and by the apprehension of future dangers,
maintained, however, above eight years, the tranquility of the
Roman world. As a very regular series of the Imperial laws
commences about this period, it would not be difficult to
transcribe the civil regulations which employed the leisure of
Constantine. But the most important of his institutions are
intimately connected with the new system of policy and religion,
which was not perfectly established till the last and peaceful
years of his reign. There are many of his laws, which, as far as
they concern the rights and property of individuals, and the
practice of the bar, are more properly referred to the private
than to the public jurisprudence of the empire; and he published
many edicts of so local and temporary a nature, that they would
ill deserve the notice of a general history. Two laws, however,
may be selected from the crowd; the one for its importance, the
other for its singularity; the former for its remarkable
benevolence, the latter for its excessive severity. 1. The horrid
practice, so familiar to the ancients, of exposing or murdering
their new-born infants, was become every day more frequent in the
provinces, and especially in Italy. It was the effect of
distress; and the distress was principally occasioned by the
intolerant burden of taxes, and by the vexatious as well as cruel
prosecutions of the officers of the revenue against their
insolvent debtors. The less opulent or less industrious part of
mankind, instead of rejoicing in an increase of family, deemed it
an act of paternal tenderness to release their children from the
impending miseries of a life which they themselves were unable to
support. The humanity of Constantine; moved, perhaps, by some
recent and extraordinary instances of despair, * engaged him to
address an edict to all the cities of Italy, and afterwards of
Africa, directing immediate and sufficient relief to be given to
those parents who should produce before the magistrates the
children whom their own poverty would not allow them to educate.
But the promise was too liberal, and the provision too vague, to
effect any general or permanent benefit. The law, though it may
merit some praise, served rather to display than to alleviate the
public distress. It still remains an authentic monument to
contradict and confound those venal orators, who were too well
satisfied with their own situation to discover either vice or
misery under the government of a generous sovereign. 2. The laws
of Constantine against rapes were dictated with very little
indulgence for the most amiable weaknesses of human nature; since
the description of that crime was applied not only to the brutal
violence which compelled, but even to the gentle seduction which
might persuade, an unmarried woman, under the age of twenty-five,
to leave the house of her parents. "The successful ravisher was
punished with death; and as if simple death was inadequate to the
enormity of his guilt, he was either burnt alive, or torn in
pieces by wild beasts in the amphitheatre. The virgin's
declaration, that she had been carried away with her own consent,
instead of saving her lover, exposed her to share his fate. The
duty of a public prosecution was intrusted to the parents of the
guilty or unfortunate maid; and if the sentiments of nature
prevailed on them to dissemble the injury, and to repair by a
subsequent marriage the honor of their family, they were
themselves punished by exile and confiscation. The slaves,
whether male or female, who were convicted of having been
accessory to rape or seduction, were burnt alive, or put to death
by the ingenious torture of pouring down their throats a quantity
of melted lead. As the crime was of a public kind, the accusation
was permitted even to strangers. The commencement of the action
was not limited to any term of years, and the consequences of the
sentence were extended to the innocent offspring of such an
irregular union." But whenever the offence inspires less horror
than the punishment, the rigor of penal law is obliged to give
way to the common feelings of mankind. The most odious parts of
this edict were softened or repealed in the subsequent reigns;
and even Constantine himself very frequently alleviated, by
partial acts of mercy, the stern temper of his general
institutions. Such, indeed, was the singular humor of that
emperor, who showed himself as indulgent, and even remiss, in the
execution of his laws, as he was severe, and even cruel, in the
enacting of them. It is scarcely possible to observe a more
decisive symptom of weakness, either in the character of the
prince, or in the constitution of the government.
The civil administration was sometimes interrupted by the
military defence of the empire. Crispus, a youth of the most
amiable character, who had received with the title of Cæsar
the command of the Rhine, distinguished his conduct, as well as
valor, in several victories over the Franks and Alemanni, and
taught the barbarians of that frontier to dread the eldest son of
Constantine, and the grandson of Constantius. The emperor himself
had assumed the more difficult and important province of the
Danube. The Goths, who in the time of Claudius and Aurelian had
felt the weight of the Roman arms, respected the power of the
empire, even in the midst of its intestine divisions. But the
strength of that warlike nation was now restored by a peace of
near fifty years; a new generation had arisen, who no longer
remembered the misfortunes of ancient days; the Sarmatians of the
Lake Mæotis followed the Gothic standard either as subjects
or as allies, and their united force was poured upon the
countries of Illyricum. Campona, Margus, and Benonia, appear to
have been the scenes of several memorable sieges and battles; and
though Constantine encountered a very obstinate resistance, he
prevailed at length in the contest, and the Goths were compelled
to purchased an ignominious retreat, by restoring the booty and
prisoners which they had taken. Nor was this advantage sufficient
to satisfy the indignation of the emperor. He resolved to
chastise as well as to repulse the insolent barbarians who had
dared to invade the territories of Rome. At the head of his
legions he passed the Danube after repairing the bridge which had
been constructed by Trajan, penetrated into the strongest
recesses of Dacia, and when he had inflicted a severe revenge,
condescended to give peace to the suppliant Goths, on condition
that, as often as they were required, they should supply his
armies with a body of forty thousand soldiers. Exploits like
these were no doubt honorable to Constantine, and beneficial to
the state; but it may surely be questioned, whether they can
justify the exaggerated assertion of Eusebius, that all Scythia,
as far as the extremity of the North, divided as it was into so
many names and nations of the most various and savage manners,
had been added by his victorious arms to the Roman empire.
In this exalted state of glory, it was impossible that
Constantine should any longer endure a partner in the empire.
Confiding in the superiority of his genius and military power, he
determined, without any previous injury, to exert them for the
destruction of Licinius, whose advanced age and unpopular vices
seemed to offer a very easy conquest. But the old emperor,
awakened by the approaching danger, deceived the expectations of
his friends, as well as of his enemies. Calling forth that spirit
and those abilities by which he had deserved the friendship of
Galerius and the Imperial purple, he prepared himself for the
contest, collected the forces of the East, and soon filled the
plains of Hadrianople with his troops, and the Straits of the
Hellespont with his fleet. The army consisted of one hundred and
fifty thousand foot, and fifteen thousand horse; and as the
cavalry was drawn, for the most part, from Phrygia and
Cappadocia, we may conceive a more favorable opinion of the
beauty of the horses, than of the courage and dexterity of their
riders. The fleet was composed of three hundred and fifty galleys
of three ranks of oars. A hundred and thirty of these were
furnished by Egypt and the adjacent coast of Africa. A hundred
and ten sailed from the ports of Phoenicia and the Isle of
Cyprus; and the maritime countries of Bithynia, Ionia, and Caria,
were likewise obliged to provide a hundred and ten galleys. The
troops of Constantine were ordered to a rendezvous at
Thessalonica; they amounted to above a hundred and twenty
thousand horse and foot. Their emperor was satisfied with their
martial appearance, and his army contained more soldiers, though
fewer men, than that of his eastern competitor. The legions of
Constantine were levied in the warlike provinces of Europe;
action had confirmed their discipline, victory had elevated their
hopes, and there were among them a great number of veterans, who,
after seventeen glorious campaigns under the same leader,
prepared themselves to deserve an honorable dismission by a last
effort of their valor. But the naval preparations of Constantine
were in every respect much inferior to those of Licinius. The
maritime cities of Greece sent their respective quotas of men and
ships to the celebrated harbor of Piræus, and their united
forces consisted of no more than two hundred small vessels -- a
very feeble armament, if it is compared with those formidable
fleets which were equipped and maintained by the republic of
Athens during the Peloponnesian war. Since Italy was no longer
the seat of government, the naval establishments of Misenum and
Ravenna had been gradually neglected; and as the shipping and
mariners of the empire were supported by commerce rather than by
war, it was natural that they should the most abound in the
industrious provinces of Egypt and Asia. It is only surprising
that the eastern emperor, who possessed so great a superiority at
sea, should have neglected the opportunity of carrying an
offensive war into the centre of his rival's dominions.
Instead of embracing such an active resolution, which might
have changed the whole face of the war, the prudent Licinius
expected the approach of his rival in a camp near Hadrianople,
which he had fortified with an anxious care, that betrayed his
apprehension of the event. Constantine directed his march from
Thessalonica towards that part of Thrace, till he found himself
stopped by the broad and rapid stream of the Hebrus, and
discovered the numerous army of Licinius, which filled the steep
ascent of the hill, from the river to the city of Hadrianople.
Many days were spent in doubtful and distant skirmishes; but at
length the obstacles of the passage and of the attack were
removed by the intrepid conduct of Constantine. In this place we
might relate a wonderful exploit of Constantine, which, though it
can scarcely be paralleled either in poetry or romance, is
celebrated, not by a venal orator devoted to his fortune, but by
an historian, the partial enemy of his fame. We are assured that
the valiant emperor threw himself into the River Hebrus,
accompanied only by twelve horsemen, and that by the effort or
terror of his invincible arm, he broke, slaughtered, and put to
flight a host of a hundred and fifty thousand men. The credulity
of Zosimus prevailed so strongly over his passion, that among the
events of the memorable battle of Hadrianople, he seems to have
selected and embellished, not the most important, but the most
marvellous. The valor and danger of Constantine are attested by a
slight wound which he received in the thigh; but it may be
discovered even from an imperfect narration, and perhaps a
corrupted text, that the victory was obtained no less by the
conduct of the general than by the courage of the hero; that a
body of five thousand archers marched round to occupy a thick
wood in the rear of the enemy, whose attention was diverted by
the construction of a bridge, and that Licinius, perplexed by so
many artful evolutions, was reluctantly drawn from his
advantageous post to combat on equal ground on the plain. The
contest was no longer equal. His confused multitude of new levies
was easily vanquished by the experienced veterans of the West.
Thirty-four thousand men are reported to have been slain. The
fortified camp of Licinius was taken by assault the evening of
the battle; the greater part of the fugitives, who had retired to
the mountains, surrendered themselves the next day to the
discretion of the conqueror; and his rival, who could no longer
keep the field, confined himself within the walls of
Byzantium.
The siege of Byzantium, which was immediately undertaken by
Constantine, was attended with great labor and uncertainty. In
the late civil wars, the fortifications of that place, so justly
considered as the key of Europe and Asia, had been repaired and
strengthened; and as long as Licinius remained master of the sea,
the garrison was much less exposed to the danger of famine than
the army of the besiegers. The naval commanders of Constantine
were summoned to his camp, and received his positive orders to
force the passage of the Hellespont, as the fleet of Licinius,
instead of seeking and destroying their feeble enemy, continued
inactive in those narrow straits, where its superiority of
numbers was of little use or advantage. Crispus, the emperor's
eldest son, was intrusted with the execution of this daring
enterprise, which he performed with so much courage and success,
that he deserved the esteem, and most probably excited the
jealousy, of his father. The engagement lasted two days; and in
the evening of the first, the contending fleets, after a
considerable and mutual loss, retired into their respective
harbors of Europe and Asia. The second day, about noon, a strong
south wind sprang up, which carried the vessels of Crispus
against the enemy; and as the casual advantage was improved by
his skilful intrepidity, he soon obtained a complete victory. A
hundred and thirty vessels were destroyed, five thousand men were
slain, and Amandus, the admiral of the Asiatic fleet, escaped
with the utmost difficulty to the shores of Chalcedon. As soon as
the Hellespont was open, a plentiful convoy of provisions flowed
into the camp of Constantine, who had already advanced the
operations of the siege. He constructed artificial mounds of
earth of an equal height with the ramparts of Byzantium. The
lofty towers which were erected on that foundation galled the
besieged with large stones and darts from the military engines,
and the battering rams had shaken the walls in several places. If
Licinius persisted much longer in the defence, he exposed himself
to be involved in the ruin of the place. Before he was
surrounded, he prudently removed his person and treasures to
Chalcedon in Asia; and as he was always desirous of associating
companions to the hopes and dangers of his fortune, he now
bestowed the title of Cæsar on Martinianus, who exercised
one of the most important offices of the empire.
Such were still the resources, and such the abilities, of
Licinius, that, after so many successive defeats, he collected in
Bithynia a new army of fifty or sixty thousand men, while the
activity of Constantine was employed in the siege of Byzantium.
The vigilant emperor did not, however, neglect the last struggles
of his antagonist. A considerable part of his victorious army was
transported over the Bosphorus in small vessels, and the decisive
engagement was fought soon after their landing on the heights of
Chrysopolis, or, as it is now called, of Scutari. The troops of
Licinius, though they were lately raised, ill armed, and worse
disciplined, made head against their conquerors with fruitless
but desperate valor, till a total defeat, and a slaughter of five
and twenty thousand men, irretrievably determined the fate of
their leader. He retired to Nicomedia, rather with the view of
gaining some time for negotiation, than with the hope of any
effectual defence. Constantia, his wife, and the sister of
Constantine, interceded with her brother in favor of her husband,
and obtained from his policy, rather than from his compassion, a
solemn promise, confirmed by an oath, that after the sacrifice of
Martinianus, and the resignation of the purple, Licinius himself
should be permitted to pass the remainder of this life in peace
and affluence. The behavior of Constantia, and her relation to
the contending parties, naturally recalls the remembrance of that
virtuous matron who was the sister of Augustus, and the wife of
Antony. But the temper of mankind was altered, and it was no
longer esteemed infamous for a Roman to survive his honor and
independence. Licinius solicited and accepted the pardon of his
offences, laid himself and his purple at the feet of his lord and
master, was raised from the ground with insulting pity, was
admitted the same day to the Imperial banquet, and soon
afterwards was sent away to Thessalonica, which had been chosen
for the place of his confinement. His confinement was soon
terminated by death, and it is doubtful whether a tumult of the
soldiers, or a decree of the senate, was suggested as the motive
for his execution. According to the rules of tyranny, he was
accused of forming a conspiracy, and of holding a treasonable
correspondence with the barbarians; but as he was never
convicted, either by his own conduct or by any legal evidence, we
may perhaps be allowed, from his weakness, to presume his
innocence. The memory of Licinius was branded with infamy, his
statues were thrown down, and by a hasty edict, of such
mischievous tendency that it was almost immediately corrected,
all his laws, and all the judicial proceedings of his reign, were
at once abolished. By this victory of Constantine, the Roman
world was again united under the authority of one emperor,
thirty-seven years after Diocletian had divided his power and
provinces with his associate Maximian.
The successive steps of the elevation of Constantine, from his
first assuming the purple at York, to the resignation of
Licinius, at Nicomedia, have been related with some minuteness
and precision, not only as the events are in themselves both
interesting and important, but still more, as they contributed to
the decline of the empire by the expense of blood and treasure,
and by the perpetual increase, as well of the taxes, as of the
military establishment. The foundation of Constantinople, and the
establishment of the Christian religion, were the immediate and
memorable consequences of this revolution.
Chapter XV: Progress Of The Christian
Religion.
Part I.
The Progress Of The Christian Religion, And The Sentiments,
Manners, Numbers, And Condition Of The Primitive Christians.
*
A candid but rational inquiry into the progress and
establishment of Christianity may be considered as a very
essential part of the history of the Roman empire. While that
great body was invaded by open violence, or undermined by slow
decay, a pure and humble religion gently insinuated itself into
the minds of men, grew up in silence and obscurity, derived new
vigor from opposition, and finally erected the triumphant banner
of the Cross on the ruins of the Capitol. Nor was the influence
of Christianity confined to the period or to the limits of the
Roman empire. After a revolution of thirteen or fourteen
centuries, that religion is still professed by the nations of
Europe, the most distinguished portion of human kind in arts and
learning as well as in arms. By the industry and zeal of the
Europeans, it has been widely diffused to the most distant shores
of Asia and Africa; and by the means of their colonies has been
firmly established from Canada to Chili, in a world unknown to
the ancients.
But this inquiry, however useful or entertaining, is attended
with two peculiar difficulties. The scanty and suspicious
materials of ecclesiastical history seldom enable us to dispel
the dark cloud that hangs over the first age of the church. The
great law of impartiality too often obliges us to reveal the
imperfections of the uninspired teachers and believers of the
gospel; and, to a careless observer, their
faults may seem to cast a shade on the
faith which they professed. But the scandal of the pious
Christian, and the fallacious triumph of the Infidel, should
cease as soon as they recollect not only by
whom, but likewise to
whom, the Divine Revelation was given. The
theologian may indulge the pleasing task of describing Religion
as she descended from Heaven, arrayed in her native purity. A
more melancholy duty is imposed on the historian. He must
discover the inevitable mixture of error and corruption, which
she contracted in a long residence upon earth, among a weak and
degenerate race of beings. *
Our curiosity is naturally prompted to inquire by what means
the Christian faith obtained so remarkable a victory over the
established religions of the earth. To this inquiry, an obvious
but satisfactory answer may be returned; that it was owing to the
convincing evidence of the doctrine itself, and to the ruling
providence of its great Author. But as truth and reason seldom
find so favorable a reception in the world, and as the wisdom of
Providence frequently condescends to use the passions of the
human heart, and the general circumstances of mankind, as
instruments to execute its purpose, we may still be permitted,
though with becoming submission, to ask, not indeed what were the
first, but what were the secondary causes of the rapid growth of
the Christian church. It will, perhaps, appear, that it was most
effectually favored and assisted by the five following causes: I.
The inflexible, and if we may use the expression, the intolerant
zeal of the Christians, derived, it is true, from the Jewish
religion, but purified from the narrow and unsocial spirit,
which, instead of inviting, had deterred the Gentiles from
embracing the law of Moses. II. The doctrine of a future life,
improved by every additional circumstance which could give weight
and efficacy to that important truth. III. The miraculous powers
ascribed to the primitive church. IV. The pure and austere morals
of the Christians. V. The union and discipline of the Christian
republic, which gradually formed an independent and increasing
state in the heart of the Roman empire.
I. We have already described the religious harmony of the
ancient world, and the facility * with which the most different
and even hostile nations embraced, or at least respected, each
other's superstitions. A single people refused to join in the
common intercourse of mankind. The Jews, who, under the Assyrian
and Persian monarchies, had languished for many ages the most
despised portion of their slaves, emerged from obscurity under
the successors of Alexander; and as they multiplied to a
surprising degree in the East, and afterwards in the West, they
soon excited the curiosity and wonder of other nations. The
sullen obstinacy with which they maintained their peculiar rites
and unsocial manners, seemed to mark them out as a distinct
species of men, who boldly professed, or who faintly disguised,
their implacable habits to the rest of human kind. Neither the
violence of Antiochus, nor the arts of Herod, nor the example of
the circumjacent nations, could ever persuade the Jews to
associate with the institutions of Moses the elegant mythology of
the Greeks. According to the maxims of universal toleration, the
Romans protected a superstition which they despised. The polite
Augustus condescended to give orders, that sacrifices should be
offered for his prosperity in the temple of Jerusalem; whilst the
meanest of the posterity of Abraham, who should have paid the
same homage to the Jupiter of the Capitol, would have been an
object of abhorrence to himself and to his brethren. But the
moderation of the conquerors was insufficient to appease the
jealous prejudices of their subjects, who were alarmed and
scandalized at the ensigns of paganism, which necessarily
introduced themselves into a Roman province. The mad attempt of
Caligula to place his own statue in the temple of Jerusalem was
defeated by the unanimous resolution of a people who dreaded
death much less than such an idolatrous profanation. Their
attachment to the law of Moses was equal to their detestation of
foreign religions. The current of zeal and devotion, as it was
contracted into a narrow channel, ran with the strength, and
sometimes with the fury, of a torrent.
This inflexible perseverance, which appeared so odious or so
ridiculous to the ancient world, assumes a more awful character,
since Providence has deigned to reveal to us the mysterious
history of the chosen people. But the devout and even scrupulous
attachment to the Mosaic religion, so conspicuous among the Jews
who lived under the second temple, becomes still more surprising,
if it is compared with the stubborn incredulity of their
forefathers. When the law was given in thunder from Mount Sinai,
when the tides of the ocean and the course of the planets were
suspended for the convenience of the Israelites, and when
temporal rewards and punishments were the immediate consequences
of their piety or disobedience, they perpetually relapsed into
rebellion against the visible majesty of their Divine King,
placed the idols of the nations in the sanctuary of Jehovah, and
imitated every fantastic ceremony that was practised in the tents
of the Arabs, or in the cities of Phoenicia. As the protection of
Heaven was deservedly withdrawn from the ungrateful race, their
faith acquired a proportionable degree of vigor and purity. The
contemporaries of Moses and Joshua had beheld with careless
indifference the most amazing miracles. Under the pressure of
every calamity, the belief of those miracles has preserved the
Jews of a later period from the universal contagion of idolatry;
and in contradiction to every known principle of the human mind,
that singular people seems to have yielded a stronger and more
ready assent to the traditions of their remote ancestors, than to
the evidence of their own senses.
The Jewish religion was admirably fitted for defence, but it
was never designed for conquest; and it seems probable that the
number of proselytes was never much superior to that of
apostates. The divine promises were originally made, and the
distinguishing rite of circumcision was enjoined, to a single
family. When the posterity of Abraham had multiplied like the
sands of the sea, the Deity, from whose mouth they received a
system of laws and ceremonies, declared himself the proper and as
it were the national God of Israel and with the most jealous care
separated his favorite people from the rest of mankind. The
conquest of the land of Canaan was accompanied with so many
wonderful and with so many bloody circumstances, that the
victorious Jews were left in a state of irreconcilable hostility
with all their neighbors. They had been commanded to extirpate
some of the most idolatrous tribes, and the execution of the
divine will had seldom been retarded by the weakness of humanity.
With the other nations they were forbidden to contract any
marriages or alliances; and the prohibition of receiving them
into the congregation, which in some cases was perpetual, almost
always extended to the third, to the seventh, or even to the
tenth generation. The obligation of preaching to the Gentiles the
faith of Moses had never been inculcated as a precept of the law,
nor were the Jews inclined to impose it on themselves as a
voluntary duty.
In the admission of new citizens, that unsocial people was
actuated by the selfish vanity of the Greeks, rather than by the
generous policy of Rome. The descendants of Abraham were
flattered by the opinion that they alone were the heirs of the
covenant, and they were apprehensive of diminishing the value of
their inheritance by sharing it too easily with the strangers of
the earth. A larger acquaintance with mankind extended their
knowledge without correcting their prejudices; and whenever the
God of Israel acquired any new votaries, he was much more
indebted to the inconstant humor of polytheism than to the active
zeal of his own missionaries. The religion of Moses seems to be
instituted for a particular country as well as for a single
nation; and if a strict obedience had been paid to the order,
that every male, three times in the year, should present himself
before the Lord Jehovah, it would have been impossible that the
Jews could ever have spread themselves beyond the narrow limits
of the promised land. That obstacle was indeed removed by the
destruction of the temple of Jerusalem; but the most considerable
part of the Jewish religion was involved in its destruction; and
the Pagans, who had long wondered at the strange report of an
empty sanctuary, were at a loss to discover what could be the
object, or what could be the instruments, of a worship which was
destitute of temples and of altars, of priests and of sacrifices.
Yet even in their fallen state, the Jews, still asserting their
lofty and exclusive privileges, shunned, instead of courting, the
society of strangers. They still insisted with inflexible rigor
on those parts of the law which it was in their power to
practise. Their peculiar distinctions of days, of meats, and a
variety of trivial though burdensome observances, were so many
objects of disgust and aversion for the other nations, to whose
habits and prejudices they were diametrically opposite. The
painful and even dangerous rite of circumcision was alone capable
of repelling a willing proselyte from the door of the
synagogue.
Under these circumstances, Christianity offered itself to the
world, armed with the strength of the Mosaic law, and delivered
from the weight of its fetters. An exclusive zeal for the truth
of religion, and the unity of God, was as carefully inculcated in
the new as in the ancient system: and whatever was now revealed
to mankind concerning the nature and designs of the Supreme
Being, was fitted to increase their reverence for that mysterious
doctrine. The divine authority of Moses and the prophets was
admitted, and even established, as the firmest basis of
Christianity. From the beginning of the world, an uninterrupted
series of predictions had announced and prepared the
long-expected coming of the Messiah, who, in compliance with the
gross apprehensions of the Jews, had been more frequently
represented under the character of a King and Conqueror, than
under that of a Prophet, a Martyr, and the Son of God. By his
expiatory sacrifice, the imperfect sacrifices of the temple were
at once consummated and abolished. The ceremonial law, which
consisted only of types and figures, was succeeded by a pure and
spiritual worship, equally adapted to all climates, as well as to
every condition of mankind; and to the initiation of blood was
substituted a more harmless initiation of water. The promise of
divine favor, instead of being partially confined to the
posterity of Abraham, was universally proposed to the freeman and
the slave, to the Greek and to the barbarian, to the Jew and to
the Gentile. Every privilege that could raise the proselyte from
earth to heaven, that could exalt his devotion, secure his
happiness, or even gratify that secret pride which, under the
semblance of devotion, insinuates itself into the human heart,
was still reserved for the members of the Christian church; but
at the same time all mankind was permitted, and even solicited,
to accept the glorious distinction, which was not only proffered
as a favor, but imposed as an obligation. It became the most
sacred duty of a new convert to diffuse among his friends and
relations the inestimable blessing which he had received, and to
warn them against a refusal that would be severely punished as a
criminal disobedience to the will of a benevolent but
all-powerful Deity.
Chapter XV: Progress Of The Christian Religion. --
Part II.
The enfranchisement of the church from the bonds of the
synagogue was a work, however, of some time and of some
difficulty. The Jewish converts, who acknowledged Jesus in the
character of the Messiah foretold by their ancient oracles,
respected him as a prophetic teacher of virtue and religion; but
they obstinately adhered to the ceremonies of their ancestors,
and were desirous of imposing them on the Gentiles, who
continually augmented the number of believers. These Judaizing
Christians seem to have argued with some degree of plausibility
from the divine origin of the Mosaic law, and from the immutable
perfections of its great Author. They affirmed,
that if the Being, who is the same
through all eternity, had designed to abolish those sacred rites
which had served to distinguish his chosen people, the repeal of
them would have been no less clear and solemn than their first
promulgation: that, instead of those
frequent declarations, which either suppose or assert the
perpetuity of the Mosaic religion, it would have been represented
as a provisionary scheme intended to last only to the coming of
the Messiah, who should instruct mankind in a more perfect mode
of faith and of worship: that the Messiah himself, and his
disciples who conversed with him on earth, instead of authorizing
by their example the most minute observances of the Mosaic law,
would have published to the world the abolition of those useless
and obsolete ceremonies, without suffering Christianity to remain
during so many years obscurely confounded among the sects of the
Jewish church. Arguments like these appear to have been used in
the defence of the expiring cause of the Mosaic law; but the
industry of our learned divines has abundantly explained the
ambiguous language of the Old Testament, and the ambiguous
conduct of the apostolic teachers. It was proper gradually to
unfold the system of the gospel, and to pronounce, with the
utmost caution and tenderness, a sentence of condemnation so
repugnant to the inclination and prejudices of the believing
Jews.
The history of the church of Jerusalem affords a lively proof
of the necessity of those precautions, and of the deep impression
which the Jewish religion had made on the minds of its sectaries.
The first fifteen bishops of Jerusalem were all circumcised Jews;
and the congregation over which they presided united the law of
Moses with the doctrine of Christ. It was natural that the
primitive tradition of a church which was founded only forty days
after the death of Christ, and was governed almost as many years
under the immediate inspection of his apostle, should be received
as the standard of orthodoxy. The distant churches very
frequently appealed to the authority of their venerable Parent,
and relieved her distresses by a liberal contribution of alms.
But when numerous and opulent societies were established in the
great cities of the empire, in Antioch, Alexandria, Ephesus,
Corinth, and Rome, the reverence which Jerusalem had inspired to
all the Christian colonies insensibly diminished. The Jewish
converts, or, as they were afterwards called, the Nazarenes, who
had laid the foundations of the church, soon found themselves
overwhelmed by the increasing multitudes, that from all the
various religions of polytheism enlisted under the banner of
Christ: and the Gentiles, who, with the approbation of their
peculiar apostle, had rejected the intolerable weight of the
Mosaic ceremonies, at length refused to their more scrupulous
brethren the same toleration which at first they had humbly
solicited for their own practice. The ruin of the temple of the
city, and of the public religion of the Jews, was severely felt
by the Nazarenes; as in their manners, though not in their faith,
they maintained so intimate a connection with their impious
countrymen, whose misfortunes were attributed by the Pagans to
the contempt, and more justly ascribed by the Christians to the
wrath, of the Supreme Deity. The Nazarenes retired from the ruins
of Jerusalem * to the little town of Pella beyond the Jordan,
where that ancient church languished above sixty years in
solitude and obscurity. They still enjoyed the comfort of making
frequent and devout visits to the Holy
City, and the hope of being one day restored to
those seats which both nature and religion taught them to love as
well as to revere. But at length, under the reign of Hadrian, the
desperate fanaticism of the Jews filled up the measure of their
calamities; and the Romans, exasperated by their repeated
rebellions, exercised the rights of victory with unusual rigor.
The emperor founded, under the name of Ælia Capitolina, a
new city on Mount Sion, to which he gave the privileges of a
colony; and denouncing the severest penalties against any of the
Jewish people who should dare to approach its precincts, he fixed
a vigilant garrison of a Roman cohort to enforce the execution of
his orders. The Nazarenes had only one way left to escape the
common proscription, and the force of truth was on this occasion
assisted by the influence of temporal advantages. They elected
Marcus for their bishop, a prelate of the race of the Gentiles,
and most probably a native either of Italy or of some of the
Latin provinces. At his persuasion, the most considerable part of
the congregation renounced the Mosaic law, in the practice of
which they had persevered above a century. By this sacrifice of
their habits and prejudices, they purchased a free admission into
the colony of Hadrian, and more firmly cemented their union with
the Catholic church.
When the name and honors of the church of Jerusalem had been
restored to Mount Sion, the crimes of heresy and schism were
imputed to the obscure remnant of the Nazarenes, which refused to
accompany their Latin bishop. They still preserved their former
habitation of Pella, spread themselves into the villages adjacent
to Damascus, and formed an inconsiderable church in the city of
Beroea, or, as it is now called, of Aleppo, in Syria. The name of
Nazarenes was deemed too honorable for those Christian Jews, and
they soon received, from the supposed poverty of their
understanding, as well as of their condition, the contemptuous
epithet of Ebionites. In a few years after the return of the
church of Jerusalem, it became a matter of doubt and controversy,
whether a man who sincerely acknowledged Jesus as the Messiah,
but who still continued to observe the law of Moses, could
possibly hope for salvation. The humane temper of Justin Martyr
inclined him to answer this question in the affirmative; and
though he expressed himself with the most guarded diffidence, he
ventured to determine in favor of such an imperfect Christian, if
he were content to practise the Mosaic ceremonies, without
pretending to assert their general use or necessity. But when
Justin was pressed to declare the sentiment of the church, he
confessed that there were very many among the orthodox
Christians, who not only excluded their Judaizing brethren from
the hope of salvation, but who declined any intercourse with them
in the common offices of friendship, hospitality, and social
life. The more rigorous opinion prevailed, as it was natural to
expect, over the milder; and an eternal bar of separation was
fixed between the disciples of Moses and those of Christ. The
unfortunate Ebionites, rejected from one religion as apostates,
and from the other as heretics, found themselves compelled to
assume a more decided character; and although some traces of that
obsolete sect may be discovered as late as the fourth century,
they insensibly melted away, either into the church or the
synagogue.
While the orthodox church preserved a just medium between
excessive veneration and improper contempt for the law of Moses,
the various heretics deviated into equal but opposite extremes of
error and extravagance. From the acknowledged truth of the Jewish
religion, the Ebionites had concluded that it could never be
abolished. From its supposed imperfections, the Gnostics as
hastily inferred that it never was instituted by the wisdom of
the Deity. There are some objections against the authority of
Moses and the prophets, which too readily present themselves to
the sceptical mind; though they can only be derived from our
ignorance of remote antiquity, and from our incapacity to form an
adequate judgment of the divine economy. These objections were
eagerly embraced and as petulantly urged by the vain science of
the Gnostics. As those heretics were, for the most part, averse
to the pleasures of sense, they morosely arraigned the polygamy
of the patriarchs, the gallantries of David, and the seraglio of
Solomon. The conquest of the land of Canaan, and the extirpation
of the unsuspecting natives, they were at a loss how to reconcile
with the common notions of humanity and justice. * But when they
recollected the sanguinary list of murders, of executions, and of
massacres, which stain almost every page of the Jewish annals,
they acknowledged that the barbarians of Palestine had exercised
as much compassion towards their idolatrous enemies, as they had
ever shown to their friends or countrymen. Passing from the
sectaries of the law to the law itself, they asserted that it was
impossible that a religion which consisted only of bloody
sacrifices and trifling ceremonies, and whose rewards as well as
punishments were all of a carnal and temporal nature, could
inspire the love of virtue, or restrain the impetuosity of
passion. The Mosaic account of the creation and fall of man was
treated with profane derision by the Gnostics, who would not
listen with patience to the repose of the Deity after six days'
labor, to the rib of Adam, the garden of Eden, the trees of life
and of knowledge, the speaking serpent, the forbidden fruit, and
the condemnation pronounced against human kind for the venial
offence of their first progenitors. The God of Israel was
impiously represented by the Gnostics as a being liable to
passion and to error, capricious in his favor, implacable in his
resentment, meanly jealous of his superstitious worship, and
confining his partial providence to a single people, and to this
transitory life. In such a character they could discover none of
the features of the wise and omnipotent Father of the universe.
They allowed that the religion of the Jews was somewhat less
criminal than the idolatry of the Gentiles; but it was their
fundamental doctrine, that the Christ whom they adored as the
first and brightest emanation of the Deity appeared upon earth to
rescue mankind from their various errors, and to reveal a new
system of truth and perfection. The most learned of the fathers,
by a very singular condescension, have imprudently admitted the
sophistry of the Gnostics. * Acknowledging that the literal sense
is repugnant to every principle of faith as well as reason, they
deem themselves secure and invulnerable behind the ample veil of
allegory, which they carefully spread over every tender part of
the Mosaic dispensation.
It has been remarked with more ingenuity than truth, that the
virgin purity of the church was never violated by schism or
heresy before the reign of Trajan or Hadrian, about one hundred
years after the death of Christ. We may observe with much more
propriety, that, during that period, the disciples of the Messiah
were indulged in a freer latitude, both of faith and practice,
than has ever been allowed in succeeding ages. As the terms of
communion were insensibly narrowed, and the spiritual authority
of the prevailing party was exercised with increasing severity,
many of its most respectable adherents, who were called upon to
renounce, were provoked to assert their private opinions, to
pursue the consequences of their mistaken principles, and openly
to erect the standard of rebellion against the unity of the
church. The Gnostics were distinguished as the most polite, the
most learned, and the most wealthy of the Christian name; and
that general appellation, which expressed a superiority of
knowledge, was either assumed by their own pride, or ironically
bestowed by the envy of their adversaries. They were almost
without exception of the race of the Gentiles, and their
principal founders seem to have been natives of Syria or Egypt,
where the warmth of the climate disposes both the mind and the
body to indolent and contemplative devotion. The Gnostics blended
with the faith of Christ many sublime but obscure tenets, which
they derived from oriental philosophy, and even from the religion
of Zoroaster, concerning the eternity of matter, the existence of
two principles, and the mysterious hierarchy of the invisible
world. As soon as they launched out into that vast abyss, they
delivered themselves to the guidance of a disordered imagination;
and as the paths of error are various and infinite, the Gnostics
were imperceptibly divided into more than fifty particular sects,
of whom the most celebrated appear to have been the Basilidians,
the Valentinians, the Marcionites, and, in a still later period,
the Manichæans. Each of these sects could boast of its
bishops and congregations, of its doctors and martyrs; and,
instead of the Four Gospels adopted by the church, the heretics
produced a multitude of histories, in which the actions and
discourses of Christ and of his apostles were adapted to their
respective tenets. The success of the Gnostics was rapid and
extensive. They covered Asia and Egypt, established themselves in
Rome, and sometimes penetrated into the provinces of the West.
For the most part they arose in the second century, flourished
during the third, and were suppressed in the fourth or fifth, by
the prevalence of more fashionable controversies, and by the
superior ascendant of the reigning power. Though they constantly
disturbed the peace, and frequently disgraced the name, of
religion, they contributed to assist rather than to retard the
progress of Christianity. The Gentile converts, whose strongest
objections and prejudices were directed against the law of Moses,
could find admission into many Christian societies, which
required not from their untutored mind any belief of an
antecedent revelation. Their faith was insensibly fortified and
enlarged, and the church was ultimately benefited by the
conquests of its most inveterate enemies.
But whatever difference of opinion might subsist between the
Orthodox, the Ebionites, and the Gnostics, concerning the
divinity or the obligation of the Mosaic law, they were all
equally animated by the same exclusive zeal; and by the same
abhorrence for idolatry, which had distinguished the Jews from
the other nations of the ancient world. The philosopher, who
considered the system of polytheism as a composition of human
fraud and error, could disguise a smile of contempt under the
mask of devotion, without apprehending that either the mockery,
or the compliance, would expose him to the resentment of any
invisible, or, as he conceived them, imaginary powers. But the
established religions of Paganism were seen by the primitive
Christians in a much more odious and formidable light. It was the
universal sentiment both of the church and of heretics, that the
dæmons were the authors, the patrons, and the objects of
idolatry. Those rebellious spirits who had been degraded from the
rank of angels, and cast down into the infernal pit, were still
permitted to roam upon earth, to torment the bodies, and to
seduce the minds, of sinful men. The dæmons soon discovered
and abused the natural propensity of the human heart towards
devotion, and artfully withdrawing the adoration of mankind from
their Creator, they usurped the place and honors of the Supreme
Deity. By the success of their malicious contrivances, they at
once gratified their own vanity and revenge, and obtained the
only comfort of which they were yet susceptible, the hope of
involving the human species in the participation of their guilt
and misery. It was confessed, or at least it was imagined, that
they had distributed among themselves the most important
characters of polytheism, one dæmon assuming the name and
attributes of Jupiter, another of Æsculapius, a third of
Venus, and a fourth perhaps of Apollo; and that, by the advantage
of their long experience and ærial nature, they were
enabled to execute, with sufficient skill and dignity, the parts
which they had undertaken. They lurked in the temples, instituted
festivals and sacrifices, invented fables, pronounced oracles,
and were frequently allowed to perform miracles. The Christians,
who, by the interposition of evil spirits, could so readily
explain every preternatural appearance, were disposed and even
desirous to admit the most extravagant fictions of the Pagan
mythology. But the belief of the Christian was accompanied with
horror. The most trifling mark of respect to the national worship
he considered as a direct homage yielded to the dæmon, and
as an act of rebellion against the majesty of God.
Chapter XV: Progress Of The Christian Religion. --
Part III.
In consequence of this opinion, it was the first but arduous
duty of a Christian to preserve himself pure and undefiled by the
practice of idolatry. The religion of the nations was not merely
a speculative doctrine professed in the schools or preached in
the temples. The innumerable deities and rites of polytheism were
closely interwoven with every circumstance of business or
pleasure, of public or of private life; and it seemed impossible
to escape the observance of them, without, at the same time,
renouncing the commerce of mankind, and all the offices and
amusements of society. The important transactions of peace and
war were prepared or concluded by solemn sacrifices, in which the
magistrate, the senator, and the soldier, were obliged to preside
or to participate. The public spectacles were an essential part
of the cheerful devotion of the Pagans, and the gods were
supposed to accept, as the most grateful offering, the games that
the prince and people celebrated in honor of their peculiar
festivals. The Christians, who with pious horror avoided the
abomination of the circus or the theatre, found himself
encompassed with infernal snares in every convivial
entertainment, as often as his friends, invoking the hospitable
deities, poured out libations to each other's happiness. When the
bride, struggling with well-affected reluctance, was forced into
hymenæal pomp over the threshold of her new habitation, or
when the sad procession of the dead slowly moved towards the
funeral pile; the Christian, on these interesting occasions, was
compelled to desert the persons who were the dearest to him,
rather than contract the guilt inherent to those impious
ceremonies. Every art and every trade that was in the least
concerned in the framing or adorning of idols was polluted by the
stain of idolatry; a severe sentence, since it devoted to eternal
misery the far greater part of the community, which is employed
in the exercise of liberal or mechanic professions. If we cast
our eyes over the numerous remains of antiquity, we shall
perceive, that besides the immediate representations of the gods,
and the holy instruments of their worship, the elegant forms and
agreeable fictions consecrated by the imagination of the Greeks,
were introduced as the richest ornaments of the houses, the
dress, and the furniture of the Pagan. Even the arts of music and
painting, of eloquence and poetry, flowed from the same impure
origin. In the style of the fathers, Apollo and the Muses were
the organs of the infernal spirit; Homer and Virgil were the most
eminent of his servants; and the beautiful mythology which
pervades and animates the compositions of their genius, is
destined to celebrate the glory of the dæmons. Even the
common language of Greece and Rome abounded with familiar but
impious expressions, which the imprudent Christian might too
carelessly utter, or too patiently hear.
The dangerous temptations which on every side lurked in ambush
to surprise the unguarded believer, assailed him with redoubled
violence on the days of solemn festivals. So artfully were they
framed and disposed throughout the year, that superstition always
wore the appearance of pleasure, and often of virtue. Some of the
most sacred festivals in the Roman ritual were destined to salute
the new calends of January with vows of public and private
felicity; to indulge the pious remembrance of the dead and
living; to ascertain the inviolable bounds of property; to hail,
on the return of spring, the genial powers of fecundity; to
perpetuate the two memorable areas of Rome, the foundation of the
city and that of the republic, and to restore, during the humane
license of the Saturnalia, the primitive equality of mankind.
Some idea may be conceived of the abhorrence of the Christians
for such impious ceremonies, by the scrupulous delicacy which
they displayed on a much less alarming occasion. On days of
general festivity, it was the custom of the ancients to adorn
their doors with lamps and with branches of laurel, and to crown
their heads with a garland of flowers. This innocent and elegant
practice might perhaps have been tolerated as a mere civil
institution. But it most unluckily happened that the doors were
under the protection of the household gods, that the laurel was
sacred to the lover of Daphne, and that garlands of flowers,
though frequently worn as a symbol of joy or mourning, had been
dedicated in their first origin to the service of superstition.
The trembling Christians, who were persuaded in this instance to
comply with the fashion of their country, and the commands of the
magistrate, labored under the most gloomy apprehensions, from the
reproaches of his own conscience, the censures of the church, and
the denunciations of divine vengeance.
Such was the anxious diligence which was required to guard the
chastity of the gospel from the infectious breath of idolatry.
The superstitious observances of public or private rites were
carelessly practised, from education and habit, by the followers
of the established religion. But as often as they occurred, they
afforded the Christians an opportunity of declaring and
confirming their zealous opposition. By these frequent
protestations their attachment to the faith was continually
fortified; and in proportion to the increase of zeal, they
combated with the more ardor and success in the holy war, which
they had undertaken against the empire of the demons.
II. The writings of Cicero represent in the most lively colors
the ignorance, the errors, and the uncertainty of the ancient
philosophers with regard to the immortality of the soul. When
they are desirous of arming their disciples against the fear of
death, they inculcate, as an obvious, though melancholy position,
that the fatal stroke of our dissolution releases us from the
calamities of life; and that those can no longer suffer, who no
longer exist. Yet there were a few sages of Greece and Rome who
had conceived a more exalted, and, in some respects, a juster
idea of human nature, though it must be confessed, that in the
sublime inquiry, their reason had been often guided by their
imagination, and that their imagination had been prompted by
their vanity. When they viewed with complacency the extent of
their own mental powers, when they exercised the various
faculties of memory, of fancy, and of judgment, in the most
profound speculations, or the most important labors, and when
they reflected on the desire of fame, which transported them into
future ages, far beyond the bounds of death and of the grave,
they were unwilling to confound themselves with the beasts of the
field, or to suppose that a being, for whose dignity they
entertained the most sincere admiration, could be limited to a
spot of earth, and to a few years of duration. With this
favorable prepossession they summoned to their aid the science,
or rather the language, of Metaphysics. They soon discovered,
that as none of the properties of matter will apply to the
operations of the mind, the human soul must consequently be a
substance distinct from the body, pure, simple, and spiritual,
incapable of dissolution, and susceptible of a much higher degree
of virtue and happiness after the release from its corporeal
prison. From these specious and noble principles, the
philosophers who trod in the footsteps of Plato deduced a very
unjustifiable conclusion, since they asserted, not only the
future immortality, but the past eternity, of the human soul,
which they were too apt to consider as a portion of the infinite
and self-existing spirit, which pervades and sustains the
universe. A doctrine thus removed beyond the senses and the
experience of mankind, might serve to amuse the leisure of a
philosophic mind; or, in the silence of solitude, it might
sometimes impart a ray of comfort to desponding virtue; but the
faint impression which had been received in the schools, was soon
obliterated by the commerce and business of active life. We are
sufficiently acquainted with the eminent persons who flourished
in the age of Cicero, and of the first Cæsars, with their
actions, their characters, and their motives, to be assured that
their conduct in this life was never regulated by any serious
conviction of the rewards or punishments of a future state. At
the bar and in the senate of Rome the ablest orators were not
apprehensive of giving offence to their hearers, by exposing that
doctrine as an idle and extravagant opinion, which was rejected
with contempt by every man of a liberal education and
understanding.
Since therefore the most sublime efforts of philosophy can
extend no further than feebly to point out the desire, the hope,
or, at most, the probability, of a future state, there is
nothing, except a divine revelation, that can ascertain the
existence, and describe the condition, of the invisible country
which is destined to receive the souls of men after their
separation from the body. But we may perceive several defects
inherent to the popular religions of Greece and Rome, which
rendered them very unequal to so arduous a task.
1. The general system of their mythology was
unsupported by any solid proofs; and the wisest among the Pagans
had already disclaimed its usurped authority. 2.
The description of the infernal regions had been abandoned to the
fancy of painters and of poets, who peopled them with so many
phantoms and monsters, who dispensed their rewards and
punishments with so little equity, that a solemn truth, the most
congenial to the human heart, was opposed and disgraced by the
absurd mixture of the wildest fictions. 3. The doctrine of a
future state was scarcely considered among the devout polytheists
of Greece and Rome as a fundamental article of faith. The
providence of the gods, as it related to public communities
rather than to private individuals, was principally displayed on
the visible theatre of the present world. The petitions which
were offered on the altars of Jupiter or Apollo, expressed the
anxiety of their worshippers for temporal happiness, and their
ignorance or indifference concerning a future life. The important
truth of the of the immortality of the soul was inculcated with
more diligence, as well as success, in India, in Assyria, in
Egypt, and in Gaul; and since we cannot attribute such a
difference to the superior knowledge of the barbarians, we must
ascribe it to the influence of an established priesthood, which
employed the motives of virtue as the instrument of ambition.
We might naturally expect that a principle so essential to
religion, would have been revealed in the clearest terms to the
chosen people of Palestine, and that it might safely have been
intrusted to the hereditary priesthood of Aaron. It is incumbent
on us to adore the mysterious dispensations of Providence, when
we discover that the doctrine of the immortality of the soul is
omitted in the law of Moses it is darkly insinuated by the
prophets; and during the long period which clasped between the
Egyptian and the Babylonian servitudes, the hopes as well as
fears of the Jews appear to have been confined within the narrow
compass of the present life. After Cyrus had permitted the exiled
nation to return into the promised land, and after Ezra had
restored the ancient records of their religion, two celebrated
sects, the Sadducees and the Pharisees, insensibly arose at
Jerusalem. The former, selected from the more opulent and
distinguished ranks of society, were strictly attached to the
literal sense of the Mosaic law, and they piously rejected the
immortality of the soul, as an opinion that received no
countenance from the divine book, which they revered as the only
rule of their faith. To the authority of Scripture the Pharisees
added that of tradition, and they accepted, under the name of
traditions, several speculative tenets from the philosophy or
religion of the eastern nations. The doctrines of fate or
predestination, of angels and spirits, and of a future state of
rewards and punishments, were in the number of these new articles
of belief; and as the Pharisees, by the austerity of their
manners, had drawn into their party the body of the Jewish
people, the immortality of the soul became the prevailing
sentiment of the synagogue, under the reign of the Asmonæan
princes and pontiffs. The temper of the Jews was incapable of
contenting itself with such a cold and languid assent as might
satisfy the mind of a Polytheist; and as soon as they admitted
the idea of a future state, they embraced it with the zeal which
has always formed the characteristic of the nation. Their zeal,
however, added nothing to its evidence, or even probability: and
it was still necessary that the doctrine of life and immortality,
which had been dictated by nature, approved by reason, and
received by superstition, should obtain the sanction of divine
truth from the authority and example of Christ.
When the promise of eternal happiness was proposed to mankind
on condition of adopting the faith, and of observing the
precepts, of the gospel, it is no wonder that so advantageous an
offer should have been accepted by great numbers of every
religion, of every rank, and of every province in the Roman
empire. The ancient Christians were animated by a contempt for
their present existence, and by a just confidence of immortality,
of which the doubtful and imperfect faith of modern ages cannot
give us any adequate notion. In the primitive church, the
influence of truth was very powerfully strengthened by an
opinion, which, however it may deserve respect for its usefulness
and antiquity, has not been found agreeable to experience. It was
universally believed, that the end of the world, and the kingdom
of heaven, were at hand. * The near approach of this wonderful
event had been predicted by the apostles; the tradition of it was
preserved by their earliest disciples, and those who understood
in their literal senses the discourse of Christ himself, were
obliged to expect the second and glorious coming of the Son of
Man in the clouds, before that generation was totally
extinguished, which had beheld his humble condition upon earth,
and which might still be witness of the calamities of the Jews
under Vespasian or Hadrian. The revolution of seventeen centuries
has instructed us not to press too closely the mysterious
language of prophecy and revelation; but as long as, for wise
purposes, this error was permitted to subsist in the church, it
was productive of the most salutary effects on the faith and
practice of Christians, who lived in the awful expectation of
that moment, when the globe itself, and all the various race of
mankind, should tremble at the appearance of their divine
Judge.
Chapter XV: Progress Of The Christian Religion. --
Part IV.
The ancient and popular doctrine of the Millennium was
intimately connected with the second coming of Christ. As the
works of the creation had been finished in six days, their
duration in their present state, according to a tradition which
was attributed to the prophet Elijah, was fixed to six thousand
years. By the same analogy it was inferred, that this long period
of labor and contention, which was now almost elapsed, would be
succeeded by a joyful Sabbath of a thousand years; and that
Christ, with the triumphant band of the saints and the elect who
had escaped death, or who had been miraculously revived, would
reign upon earth till the time appointed for the last and general
resurrection. So pleasing was this hope to the mind of believers,
that the New Jerusalem, the seat of
this blissful kingdom, was quickly adorned with all the gayest
colors of the imagination. A felicity consisting only of pure and
spiritual pleasure would have appeared too refined for its
inhabitants, who were still supposed to possess their human
nature and senses. A garden of Eden, with the amusements of the
pastoral life, was no longer suited to the advanced state of
society which prevailed under the Roman empire. A city was
therefore erected of gold and precious stones, and a supernatural
plenty of corn and wine was bestowed on the adjacent territory;
in the free enjoyment of whose spontaneous productions, the happy
and benevolent people was never to be restrained by any jealous
laws of exclusive property. The assurance of such a Millennium
was carefully inculcated by a succession of fathers from Justin
Martyr, and Irenæus, who conversed with the immediate
disciples of the apostles, down to Lactantius, who was preceptor
to the son of Constantine. Though it might not be universally
received, it appears to have been the reigning sentiment of the
orthodox believers; and it seems so well adapted to the desires
and apprehensions of mankind, that it must have contributed in a
very considerable degree to the progress of the Christian faith.
But when the edifice of the church was almost completed, the
temporary support was laid aside. The doctrine of Christ's reign
upon earth was at first treated as a profound allegory, was
considered by degrees as a doubtful and useless opinion, and was
at length rejected as the absurd invention of heresy and
fanaticism. A mysterious prophecy, which still forms a part of
the sacred canon, but which was thought to favor the exploded
sentiment, has very narrowly escaped the proscription of the
church.
Whilst the happiness and glory of a temporal reign were
promised to the disciples of Christ, the most dreadful calamities
were denounced against an unbelieving world. The edification of a
new Jerusalem was to advance by equal steps with the destruction
of the mystic Babylon; and as long as the emperors who reigned
before Constantine persisted in the profession of idolatry, the
epithet of babylon was applied to the city and to the empire of
Rome. A regular series was prepared of all the moral and physical
evils which can afflict a flourishing nation; intestine discord,
and the invasion of the fiercest barbarians from the unknown
regions of the North; pestilence and famine, comets and eclipses,
earthquakes and inundations. All these were only so many
preparatory and alarming signs of the great catastrophe of Rome,
when the country of the Scipios and Cæsars should be
consumed by a flame from Heaven, and the city of the seven hills,
with her palaces, her temples, and her triumphal arches, should
be buried in a vast lake of fire and brimstone. It might,
however, afford some consolation to Roman vanity, that the period
of their empire would be that of the world itself; which, as it
had once perished by the element of water, was destined to
experience a second and a speedy destruction from the element of
fire. In the opinion of a general conflagration, the faith of the
Christian very happily coincided with the tradition of the East,
the philosophy of the Stoics, and the analogy of Nature; and even
the country, which, from religious motives, had been chosen for
the origin and principal scene of the conflagration, was the best
adapted for that purpose by natural and physical causes; by its
deep caverns, beds of sulphur, and numero is volcanoes, of which
those of Ætna, of Vesuvius, and of Lipari, exhibit a very
imperfect representation. The calmest and most intrepid sceptic
could not refuse to acknowledge that the destruction of the
present system of the world by fire, was in itself extremely
probable. The Christian, who founded his belief much less on the
fallacious arguments of reason than on the authority of tradition
and the interpretation of Scripture, expected it with terror and
confidence as a certain and approaching event; and as his mind
was perpetually filled with the solemn idea, he considered every
disaster that happened to the empire as an infallible symptom of
an expiring world.
The condemnation of the wisest and most virtuous of the
Pagans, on account of their ignorance or disbelief of the divine
truth, seems to offend the reason and the humanity of the present
age. But the primitive church, whose faith was of a much firmer
consistence, delivered over, without hesitation, to eternal
torture, the far greater part of the human species. A charitable
hope might perhaps be indulged in favor of Socrates, or some
other sages of antiquity, who had consulted the light of reason
before that of the gospel had arisen. But it was unanimously
affirmed, that those who, since the birth or the death of Christ,
had obstinately persisted in the worship of the dæmons,
neither deserved nor could expect a pardon from the irritated
justice of the Deity. These rigid sentiments, which had been
unknown to the ancient world, appear to have infused a spirit of
bitterness into a system of love and harmony. The ties of blood
and friendship were frequently torn asunder by the difference of
religious faith; and the Christians, who, in this world, found
themselves oppressed by the power of the Pagans, were sometimes
seduced by resentment and spiritual pride to delight in the
prospect of their future triumph. "You are fond of spectacles,"
exclaims the stern Tertullian; "expect the greatest of all
spectacles, the last and eternal judgment of the universe. How
shall I admire, how laugh, how rejoice, how exult, when I behold
so many proud monarchs, so many fancied gods, groaning in the
lowest abyss of darkness; so many magistrates, who persecuted the
name of the Lord, liquefying in fiercer fires than they ever
kindled against the Christians; so many sage philosophers
blushing in red-hot flames with their deluded scholars; so many
celebrated poets trembling before the tribunal, not of Minos, but
of Christ; so many tragedians, more tuneful in the expression of
their own sufferings; so many dancers." * But the humanity of the
reader will permit me to draw a veil over the rest of this
infernal description, which the zealous African pursues in a long
variety of affected and unfeeling witticisms.
Doubtless there were many among the primitive Christians of a
temper more suitable to the meekness and charity of their
profession. There were many who felt a sincere compassion for the
danger of their friends and countrymen, and who exerted the most
benevolent zeal to save them from the impending destruction. The
careless Polytheist, assailed by new and unexpected terrors,
against which neither his priests nor his philosophers could
afford him any certain protection, was very frequently terrified
and subdued by the menace of eternal tortures. His fears might
assist the progress of his faith and reason; and if he could once
persuade himself to suspect that the Christian religion might
possibly be true, it became an easy task to convince him that it
was the safest and most prudent party that he could possibly
embrace.
III. The supernatural gifts, which even in this life were ascribed to the Christians above the rest of mankind, must have conduced to their own comfort, and very frequently to the conviction of infidels. Besides the occasional prodigies, which might sometimes be effected by the immediate interposition of the Deity when he suspended the laws of Nature for the service of religion, the Christian church, from the time of the apostles and their first disciples, has claimed an uninterrupted succession of miraculous powers, the gift of tongues, of vision, and of prophecy, the power of expelling dæmons, of healing the sick, and of raising the dead. The knowledge of foreign languages was frequently communicated to the contemporaries of Irenæus, though Irenæus himself was left to struggle with the difficulties of a barbarous dialect, whilst he preached the gospel to the natives of Gaul. The divine inspiration, whether it was conveyed in the form of a waking or of a sleeping vision, is described as a favor very liberally bestowed on all ranks of the faithful, on women as on elders, on boys as well as upon bishops. When their devout minds were sufficiently prepared by a course of prayer, of fasting, and of vigils, to receive the extraordinary impulse, they were transported out of their senses, and delivered in ecstasy what was inspired, being mere organs of the Holy Spirit, just as a pipe or flute is of him who blows into it. We may add, that the design of these visions was, for the most part, either