Chapter XXXV: Galba, Otho, Vitellius, and the Three Flavians (68-96 A.d.) (3)

He died in the same villa where his father had done before him, upon the ides of September; two years, two months, and twenty days after he had succeeded his father; and in the one and fortieth year of his age. As soon as the news of his death was published, all people mourned for him, as for the loss of some near relation. The senate, before they could be summoned by proclamation, drew together, and locking the doors of their house at first, but afterwards opening them, gave him such thanks, and heaped upon him such praises now he was dead, as they never had done whilst he was alive and present amongst them.[c]

The reigns of Vespasian and Titus were marked by two important circumstances. The monarchical form of government, for the first time since the reign of Augustus, showed itself conducive to the culture, morals, outward well-being, and comforts of life. Besides this, the great unity of the Roman Empire, as one state, had its beginning under these emperors, or in other words, from that time forward, little by little, the provinces ceased to be subordinate parts of the body politic, in which until now, with the exception of a few towns and individuals, only the inhabitants of Italy had been citizens, and all others subjects. The latter change was not only maintained after the death of Titus, but spread itself later over all the empire. On the other hand, the benefits conferred on the empire by the personal character of Vespasian and Titus were only temporary; for the prevalent weakness, and instability of opinion, and the lack of a definite and firmly established constitution, made every bad ruler exercise a great personal influence, and his example had a stronger effect on the life and morals of the people than his administration. It would have been impossible even for the best ruler to introduce a better organisation among a people, the great majority of whom had already sunk too low, and who flattered and served every tyrant and every vice, in order to enjoy themselves undisturbed. This was shown immediately after the death of Titus, under the reign of his brother Domitian.[d]

DOMITIAN (TITUS FLAVIUS DOMITIANUS), 81-96 A.D.

[Sidenote: [81-96 A.D.]]

Ere Titus had breathed his last, Domitian caused every one to abandon him, and mounting his horse rode to the prætorian camp, and caused himself to be saluted emperor by the soldiers. Like most bad emperors, Domitian commenced his reign with popular actions, and a portion of his good qualities adhered to him for some time.[23] Such were his liberality (for no man was freer from avarice) and the strictness with which he looked after the administration of justice, both at Rome and in the provinces. His passion for building was extreme; not content with restoring the Capitol, the Pantheon, and other edifices injured or destroyed by the late conflagration, he built or repaired several others; and on all, old and new alike, he inscribed his own name, without noticing the original founder.

Domitian was of a moody, melancholy temper, and he loved to indulge in solitude. His chief occupation when thus alone, we are told, was to catch flies, and pierce them with a sharp writing-style; hence Vibius Crispus, being asked one day if there was any one within with Cæsar, replied, “No, not so much as a fly.” Among the better actions of the early years of this prince, may be noticed the following. He strictly forbade the abominable practice of making eunuchs, for which he deserves praise; though it was said that his motive was not so much a love of justice as a desire to depreciate the memory of his brother, who had a partiality for these wretched beings. Domitian also at this time punished three vestals who had broken their vows of chastity; but instead of burying them alive, he allowed them to choose their mode of death.

In the hope of acquiring military glory, he undertook (83) an expedition to Germany, under the pretence of chastising the Chatti. But he merely crossed the Rhine, pillaged the friendly tribes and returned to celebrate the triumph which the senate had decreed him. While, however, he was thus triumphing for imaginary conquests, real ones continued to be achieved in Britain by Cn. Julius Agricola, to whom, as we have seen, Vespasian and Titus had committed the affairs of that island (78). He had conquered the country as far as the firths of Clyde and Forth, and (83) defeated the Caledonians in a great battle at the foot of the Grampians. Domitian, though inwardly grieved, affected great joy at the success of Agricola; he caused triumphal honours, a statue, and so forth to be decreed him by the senate, and gave out that he intended appointing him to the government of Syria; but when Agricola returned to Rome, after having fully established the Roman power in Britain, Domitian received him with coldness, and never employed him again.

The country on the left bank of the lower Danube, the modern Transylvania, Wallachia, Moldavia was at this time inhabited by a portion of the Sarmatian or Slavonian race named the Dacians, and remarkable for their valour. The extension of the Roman frontier to the Danube in the time of Augustus, had caused occasional collisions with this martial race; but no war of any magnitude occurred till the present reign. The prince of the Dacians at this time, named Decebalus, was one of those energetic characters often to be found among barbarous tribes, to whom nature has given all the elements of greatness, but fortune has assigned a narrow and inglorious stage for their exhibition. It was probably the desire of military glory and of plunder, rather than fear of the avarice of Domitian, the only cause assigned, that made Decebalus at this time (86) set at nought the treaties subsisting with the Romans, and lead his martial hordes over the Danube. The troops that opposed them were routed and cut to pieces; the garrisons and castles were taken, and apprehensions were entertained for the winter quarters of the legions. The danger seemed so imminent, that the general wish was manifested for the conduct of the war being committed to Agricola; and the imperial freedmen, some from good, others from evil motives, urged their master to compliance. But his jealousy of that illustrious man was invincible, and he resolved to superintend the war in person.

Domitian proceeded to Illyricum, where he was met by Dacian deputies with proposals of peace, on condition of a capitation tax of two oboles a head being paid to Decebalus. The emperor forthwith ordered Cornelius Fuscus, the governor of Illyricum, to lead his army over the Danube, and chastise the insolent barbarians. Fuscus passed the river by a bridge of boats; he gained some advantages over the enemy, but his army was finally defeated and himself slain. Domitian, who had returned to Rome, hastened back to the seat of war; but instead of heading his troops, he stopped in a town of Mœsia, where he gave himself up to his usual pleasures, leaving the conduct of the war to his generals, who, though they met with some reverses, were in general successful; and Decebalus was reduced to the necessity of suing for peace. Domitian refused to grant it; but shortly after, having sustained a defeat from the Marcomans whom he wished to punish for not having assisted him against the Dacians, he sent to offer peace to Decebalus. The Dacian was not in a condition to refuse it, but he would seem to have dictated the terms; and in effect an annual tribute was henceforth paid to him by the Roman emperor. Domitian, however, triumphed for the Dacians and Marcomans, though he paid tribute to the former, and had been defeated by the latter.

During the Dacian War (88), L. Antonius, who commanded in Upper Germany, having been grossly insulted by the emperor, formed an alliance with the Alamanni, and caused himself to be proclaimed emperor. But L. Maximus marched against him, and the Alamanni, having been prevented from coming to his aid by the rising of the Rhine, he was defeated and slain.

Maximus wisely and humanely burned all his papers, but that did not prevent the tyrant from putting many persons to death as concerned in the revolt.

A war against the Sarmatians, who had cut to pieces a Roman legion, is placed by the chronologists in the year 93. Domitian conducted it in person, after his usual manner; but instead of triumphing, he contented himself with suspending a laurel crown in the Capitol. This is the last foreign transaction of his reign.[e]

Domitian’s principal faults were an immoderate pride, boundless prodigality, and a childish desire to distinguish himself. His appearance, his voice, and, in short, his whole bearing betrayed a proud and despotic nature. By his unrestrained prodigalities he was drawn into avarice and rapacity, and his fear of intrigues made him cruel. Spoilt by indulgences in early youth, as emperor he gave way to an unbridled taste for public amusements, cruel sports, gladiatorial games, chariot races, and a foolish passion for building. These extravagances entailed a continual lack of money, which drove him to oppression and cruelty. At the last, he hated and avoided mankind as Tiberius had done and became insane like Caligula. He was not wanting in intellectual abilities; as a young man he had made very good verses, had composed a poem on the conquest of Jerusalem, and had written a better translation of the poem of Aratus on the stars, than Cicero and Germanicus. As soon as he succeeded to the throne, he considered it beneath his dignity to occupy himself with intellectual things; from thenceforth he only studied the records and journals of Tiberius, and left the composition of his letters, ordinances, and speeches almost entirely to others.

The first part of his reign was better than might have been expected from his character. In its early years he showed no avarice, but was inclined to be generous and magnanimous. He issued some excellent ordinances, checked the malpractices of complainants and calumniators, as well as the publication of lampoons, punished partisan judges with great severity, and kept the officials in order with such energy, that none of them dared to neglect their duties either in Rome or the provinces; and as the historian Suetonius puts it, somewhat too strongly, the magistrates were never more just or incorruptible than in his reign. For this reason, Domitian was from the beginning hated by the senate, which was composed for the most part of high public officials, especially as he showed himself in every respect far less favourably disposed towards the aristocracy than Vespasian and Titus.

When Domitian observed how few friends he had in the senate and upper classes, he tried to win the populace by rich donations, public entertainments, and brilliant revels, and granted the soldiers such a considerable rise in their pay, that he himself soon saw the impossibility of meeting the great expense so incurred. He increased the pay by one-fourth, and, since the finances of the state could not suffice for such an expenditure, he tried to have recourse to a diminution of the number of the troops; but had to give up the idea, for fear of disturbances, mutinies in the army, and the exposure of the frontier to the attacks of the barbarians. Domitian had not much to fear from the hatred of the senate; for though Vespasian had cast out its unworthy members and replaced them by men from the most distinguished families of the whole empire, it was no better under Domitian than it had been before.[24]

The great corruption of the Roman Empire of that time is manifest from the fact that the changes instituted in the highest government departments by the best among the emperors, were only of service so long as a good and powerful ruler was at the head of the government. The very senate, which Vespasian had tried to purify, submitted under Domitian to every whim of the tyrant. It is impossible to say which was the greater, the effrontery of the emperor or the baseness of the highest court of the empire. Under two worthy successors of Domitian, the same senators again proved themselves reasonable and dignified, not because the spirit of the times had changed or that they themselves had become better, but because the man who was at the head of the state powerfully influenced the senate by his character, and so infused a better spirit into it.

It would be as wearisome for the historian as for the reader to enumerate the prodigalities, eccentricities, and cruelties to which Domitian abandoned himself more completely the longer he reigned. In his vanity he declared himself a god like Caligula, caused sacrifices to be offered to him, and introduced the custom of being styled “Our lord and god” in all public ordinances and documents. He squandered immense sums on building, instituted the most magnificent public games, and, like Tiberius and Nero, was slave to all sorts of excesses. In order to obtain the money he required, he caused many rich people to be robbed of their goods or executed on every kind of pretext. Not avarice alone, but suspicion and fear drove him to acts of despotism and cruelty.[d] Little by little he gained, it was alleged, an actual taste for tormenting his victims. It was said that he took delight in being present at the torture and execution of prisoners, and that by a refinement of cruelty, he often showed himself most friendly towards those persons whose death he contemplated. But allowance must be made in all this for the exaggeration of scandal-mongers. That he was severe in stamping out all opposition, however, is not to be questioned.[a] His hatred of the senators was inflamed by the discovery that many of them shared in the conspiracy of Saturninus, a rebellious governor of northern Germany. From that time to the end of his reign he was a terror to the nobility, as well as to the stoics, whose teachings glorified conspiracy and “tyrannicide.”[m]

The citizens being defenceless, the senate without authority, the soldiers as partial to Domitian as they had once been to Nero, and no one except his confidants and servants daring to approach him, the tyrant would probably never have been overthrown had he not, like Caligula, made those around him fearful for their lives. His own wife, Domitia, conspired with some of those persons who had to write down or execute his cruel orders to destroy him. Chance once placed in the hands of Domitia a list of the condemned on which the suspicious tyrant had written her name. On the same list were the names of the two prefects of the guard, Norbanus and Petronius, and of Parthenius, Domitian’s most trusted chamberlain, and it was therefore easy for Domitia to bring about a conspiracy against her husband. To carry it out was more difficult, for Domitian possessed great bodily strength, and in his suspicion had taken all sorts of precautions against such attempts. The tyrant was surprised in his sleeping apartment, and slain after a desperate resistance. The guards were so enraged at the murder of Domitian that his successor, Nerva, could not protect the conspirators from their anger, and they were cut to pieces by the soldiers after their execution had been in vain demanded of the new emperor.

After Domitian’s death the senate gave full vent to its hatred of the tyrant. The statue of the murdered emperor was immediately destroyed by its orders, his triumphal arches overthrown, and his name effaced from all public monuments. The government was handed over to the old senator Cocceius Nerva, whom the conspirators had immediately proclaimed emperor on Domitian’s death. It is most characteristic of those times that Nerva was said to be raised to the throne, not so much on account of his services to the state, but because, under Domitian, some astrologers had said that the horoscope of this man pointed to his becoming emperor at some future time.[25] It was universally believed that a celebrated philosopher, Apollonius of Tyana, to whom supernatural powers were ascribed, witnessed the murder of Domitian in the spirit at Ephesus at the same time that it took place, and publicly announced it to the people.[d]

Other superstitions concerning the death of Domitian, together with an account of the personal characteristics and habits of living of the emperor, and of the manner of his taking off, are given by Suetonius; this biography being the concluding one in the famous work we have so frequently quoted.[a]

SUETONIUS ON THE DEATH AND CHARACTER OF DOMITIAN

With respect to the contrivance and execution of Domitian’s death, [he says] the common account is this. The conspirators being in some doubt when and where they should attack him, whether while he was in the bath, or at supper, Stephanus, a steward of Domitilla’s, then under a prosecution for defrauding his mistress, offered them his advice and assistance; and wrapping up his left arm, as if it was hurt, in wool and bandages for some days, to prevent suspicion, at the very hour appointed for the execution of the plot, he made use of this further stratagem. He pretended to make a discovery of a plot, and being for that reason admitted, he presented to the emperor a writing, which whilst the latter was reading with the appearance of one astonished, he stabbed him in the groin. But Domitian making resistance, Clodianus, one of his chamberlains, Maximus a freedman of Parthenius’, Saturius a superintendent of his bedchamber, with some gladiators, fell upon him, and stabbed him in seven places. A boy that had the charge of the Lares in his bedchamber, then in attendance as usual, when the transaction was over, gave this further account of it; that he was ordered by Domitian, upon receiving his first wound, to reach him a dagger which lay under his bolster, and call in his servants; but that he found nothing at the head of the bed, excepting the hilt of a poniard, and that all the doors were secured; that the emperor in the meantime got hold of Stephanus, and throwing him upon the ground, struggled a long time with him; one while endeavouring to wrench his sword from him, another while, though his fingers were miserably mangled, to pull out his eyes. He was slain upon the 18th of the calends of September, in the forty-fifth year of his age, and the fifteenth of his reign. His corpse was carried out upon a common bier by the public bearers, and buried by his nurse Phyllis, on an estate which had belonged to him by the Latin way, not far from Rome. But his remains were afterwards privately conveyed into the temple of the Flavian family, and mixed with the ashes of Julia, Titus’ daughter, whom the same woman had likewise nursed.

He was of a tall stature, a modest countenance, and very ruddy; had large eyes, but dim-sighted. His person was graceful, and in his youth completely such, excepting only that his toes were bent somewhat inward. He was at last disfigured by baldness, a fat belly, and the slenderness of his legs, which were reduced by a long illness. He was so sensible how much the modesty of his countenance recommended him, that he once made this boast to the senate, “Thus far you have approved of my disposition and countenance too.” He was so much concerned at his baldness, that he took it as an affront upon himself, if any other person was upbraided with it, either in jest or earnest.

He was so incapable of bearing fatigue, that he scarcely ever walked about the city. In his expeditions and on a march, he seldom made use of a horse, riding generally in a chair. He had no inclination for the exercise of arms, but was fond of the bow. Many have seen him kill a hundred wild beasts, of various kinds, at his seat near Alba, and strike his arrows into their heads with such dexterity, that he would, at two discharges of his bow, plant as it were a pair of horns upon them. He would sometimes direct his arrows against the hand of a boy standing at a distance, and expanded as a mark for him, with such exactness, that they all passed betwixt his fingers without hurting him.

In the beginning of his reign, he laid aside the study of the liberal sciences, though he took care to restore, at a vast expense, the libraries which had been burned down, by collecting copies from all parts, and sending scribes to Alexandria, either to copy or correct from the repository of books at that place. Yet he never applied himself to the reading of history or poetry, or to exercise his pen for his own improvement. He read nothing but the commentaries and acts of Tiberius Cæsar. His letters, speeches, and proclamations were all drawn up for him by others, though he would talk speciously, and sometimes express himself in sentiments worthy of notice. “I could wish,” said he once, “that I was but as handsome as Mettius fancies himself to be.” And the head of one whose hair was part yellow and part gray, he said “was snow sprinkled with mead.”

He said “the condition of princes was very miserable, who were never credited in the discovery of a plot, until they were murdered.” When he had no business, he diverted himself at play, even upon days that were not festivals, and in the morning. He entered the bath by noon, and made a plentiful dinner, insomuch that he seldom ate more at supper than a Matian apple, to which he added a small draught of wine, out of a round-bellied jug which he used. He gave frequent and splendid entertainments, but commonly in a hurry, for he never protracted them beyond sunset and had no drinking repast after. For, until bed-time, he did nothing else but walk by himself in private.

The people bore his death with much unconcern, but the soldiery with great indignation, and immediately endeavoured to have him ranked amongst the gods. Though ready to revenge his death, however, they wanted some person to head them; but this they effected soon after, by resolutely demanding the punishment of all those that had been concerned in his assassination. On the other hand, the senate was so overjoyed, that they assembled in all haste, and in a full house reviled his memory in the most bitter terms; ordering ladders to be brought in, and his shields and images to be pulled down before their eyes, and dashed in pieces upon the spot against the ground; passing at the same time a decree to obliterate his titles everywhere, and abolish all memory of him forever. A few months before he was slain, a crow spoke in the Capitol these words, “All things will be well.” Upon this prodigy, some person put the following construction:

“Nuper Tarpeio quæ sedit culmine cornix,
‘Est bene,’ non potuit dicere; dixit, ‘Erit.’”

“The crow, which late on Tarpey one might see,
Could not say, all was well, but said, ’twill be.”

They say likewise that Domitian dreamed he had a golden hump grow out of the back of his neck, which he considered as a certain sign of happy days for the empire after him. Such an auspicious change [concludes Suetonius] shortly after happened, by the justice and moderation of the following emperors.[c]

A RETROSPECTIVE GLANCE OVER THE GOVERNMENT OF THE FIRST CENTURY OF EMPIRE

[Sidenote: [30 B.C.-96 A.D.]]

In more senses than one the fall of the last of the Flavians marks the termination of an epoch. As Suetonius intimates, the empire was about to enter upon a period of better days. The century and a quarter through which it had just passed had been one of stress and disaster. Of the eleven emperors whose lives compassed the period, eight met with violent deaths. Under these conditions there must have been a feeling of uncertainty, of the instability of human affairs and human life, permeating the very air. It was pre-eminently a time when might made right, and except for the relatively brief periods when the good emperors Vespasian and Titus were in power, there was scarcely a time when any day might not logically enough be expected to bring forth a revolution. It required but a dagger thrust or the administration of a poisoned morsel of food to close a reign or a dynasty. And whether Nemesis came a few years earlier or a few years later was largely a matter of chance, and in most cases a matter of no great moment; since the new ruler was almost certain to be as bad as the last.

As we consider this story of despotic reigns and tragic endings, the first thought that comes to the mind is, Why was such a state of things tolerated? Having put down such a man as Tiberius, why did the Romans submit, even for a moment, to the rule of a Caligula? When such a character as Claudius had been removed from the scene, why should the stage be reset for a Nero? The answer is not hard to find. It is inherent in the anomalous political condition of the empire and the still more anomalous position of its ruler. The real fact is that the empire was no empire at all in the modern sense; from which it follows that the emperors had no such nominal position as the name of the title which we give them conveys to modern ears.

True our modern word “emperor” is the lineal descendant of the word “imperator”; just as “kaiser” and “czar” are the lineal descendants of the word “cæsar.” But modern usage has greatly modified the significance of these words; and in dealing with the history of the early Roman Empire it must constantly be borne in mind that Cæsar was originally only the family name of the great dictator and the first five imperators, having at first no greater significance than any other patronymic; and that the word “imperator” meant and originally implied nothing more than general or commander-in-chief of the army.

It will be recalled that Augustus--shrewd, practical politician that he was--ardently deprecated the use of any word implying “lord” or “master” in connection with his name. He was the imperator of the army, the princeps or leader of the senate, and the high pontiff (pontifex maximus) of church and state. The practical powers which were either previously associated with these offices or were gradually clustered about them by the genius of Augustus, gave that astute leader all the power in fact that any modern emperor possesses. But while exercising such truly imperial functions, Augustus remained in theory an ordinary citizen, all his offices subject to the mandate of the people. He lived unostentatiously; conducted himself with the utmost deference towards his fellow-citizens; kept his actions for the most part strictly within the letter of the law--albeit himself promulgating the laws; and went through, even for the fifth time, the form of being appointed to his high office for a period of ten years.

He gained a hold on the affections of the people, as well as a dominating influence over their affairs. They rejoiced to do him honour, conferring on him not only the titles and dignities already mentioned, but the specific title of Augustus, in addition. Yet it must not be for a moment forgotten that no one of these titles conveyed to the mind of the Roman people the impression that would have been conveyed by the word “king.” Had Augustus even in his very heyday of power dared to assume that title, it may well be doubted whether he would not have met the fate of his illustrious uncle.

And if this was true of Augustus, it was equally true of his successors in the first century. To be sure, they succeeded to power much as one king succeeds another. Augustus chose Tiberius as his successor, and Tiberius assumed the reins of power quite unopposed. But it must be noted that in several cases, as in that of Tiberius and again when Nero succeeded Claudius, the artful machinations employed to keep secret the death of the imperator until his chosen successor could take steps to fortify himself with army and senate, implied in themselves the somewhat doubtful character of the title to succession.

In point of fact, there was no legal title to succession whatever. Until the form of a choice by the senate had been gone through with, the new imperator had no official status. There was no question of the divine right of succession. Indeed, how little the majesty that doth hedge a king availed to sanctify the persons of the early imperators, is sufficiently evidenced in the record of their tragic endings. Regicide is not unknown, to be sure, even in the most stable monarchies; but where eight rulers out of eleven successive ones meet violent deaths, it is evident that the alleged royal power has hardly the semblance of sanctity.

Meanwhile, the nominal form of government of the Roman people remained the same as under the commonwealth. Ostensibly, the senate was still supreme. Consuls were elected year by year, as before; and how widely the imperial office differed from its modern counterpart is well evidenced by the fact that the emperor was from time to time chosen consul, sharing the dignity then with a fellow-citizen, who, theoretically, was his official equal.

If such was the nominal position of the emperor, what then was the real secret of his actual power? It rested, not on the tradition of kingship, but on the simple basis of military leadership. “Imperator,” as has been said, implied “commander of the legions”; and he who controlled the legions, controlled the Roman Empire. That was the whole secret. There is nothing occult or mysterious in it all. Rome’s position as mistress of the world depended solely upon her army; therefore, the man who controlled that army was master of the world. Hence it followed that when the army chose an imperator,[26] be it a youthful Otho or a senescent Galba, the senate had no option but to ratify that choice with its approving ballot. If, as happened after Nero’s death, the army chanced not to be a unit in its choice, different legions bringing forward each a candidate, the senate must indeed make a decision, as for example, between Vitellius and Vespasian, but it was the arbitrament of arms that ratified the selection. That the senate preferred Vespasian to Vitellius would have signified little in the final result, had not the army of the Flavians proved the stronger.

In a word then, this Roman Empire of the first century, whatever its nominal status, is a veritable military despotism: it is not merely the imperator who is dependent upon the legions; the very nation itself is no less dependent. The bounds of the empire extend from the Euphrates to the westernmost promontory of Spain and from Egypt to Britain. About this territory, embracing the major part of the civilised world, is drawn an impregnable cordon of soldiers. Twenty-five legions make up this _chevaux-de-frise_ of steel in the day of Tiberius. Eight legions are stationed along the Rhine; three legions in Pannonia and two in Mœsia along the Danube; four legions are marshalled in Syria, two in Egypt, and one along the Mediterranean coast of Africa. Of the remaining five, two are in Dalmatia and three in Spain. Almost four hundred thousand men make up these legions. Under the successors of Augustus, Britain is invaded, and made, like all the other frontiers, a camping-ground for armies. A glance at the map will show how this great barrier of soldiers circles the mighty empire. Remove that barrier and the empire of Rome would shrink in a day from its world-wide boundaries to the little peninsula of Italy, perhaps even to the narrow confines of the city of Rome itself.

And why should it not be removed? What boots it to the citizen of Rome that his name should be a word of terror to the uttermost nations of the ancient world? What matters it more than in name that Spain and Gaul and Pannonia and Syria and Egypt acknowledge the sway of the city on the Tiber? The reply is that it matters everything; for these outlying provinces supply the life-blood of the empire. From these wide dominions all roads, as the saying has it, lead to Rome; and every road is worn deep with the weight of tribute. The legions that we have seen distributed all about the wide frontier were not placed there primarily to fight, but to exact tribute as the price of peace. Fight they did, to be sure; in one region or another they were always fighting. But this warfare was kept up primarily by the enemies of the state; Rome herself would seldom have taken the aggressive, had the people along her frontier chosen to submit to her exactions. She demanded only money or its equivalent; granted that, she was the friend and protector of all peoples within her domain.[27]

And sooner or later most of these peoples found that it was better to pay tribute peacefully than to fight and be plundered. Here and there an obstinate people like the Jews held out for a time, but the almost uniform result was that ultimately the might of the legions prevailed; and then there followed indiscriminate pillage of everything worth taking, to glorify the inevitable triumph of the Roman leader. The description of the treasures that delighted the eyes of the people of Rome when Titus and Vespasian triumphed after the destruction of Jerusalem, is but a sample of what occurred again and again in evidence of the prowess of Roman arms.

In the end, then, the provinces came to submit to the inevitable, however sullenly, and they poured their wealth into the hands of Rome’s censors to be passed on to the imperator, who deposited such portion as he chose into the official coffers of the city. In the time of Augustus it is estimated that the yearly tribute from the provinces amounted to from fifteen to twenty millions of pounds (seventy-five to one hundred million dollars). This was tribute proper, the literal price of peace. Nor was this all. Rome was the centre of trade for all these provinces--the world emporium where the merchant of Spain might barter with the merchant of Syria, and where the produce of Gaul and Pannonia might be exchanged for the produce of Egypt. All articles from whatever quarter were subject to import duty; and all transactions of the market had to pay a percentage for excise.

When all this is borne in mind it will appear how the imperator--at once the commander of the legions and the keeper of the public purse--was able to dictate the laws, controlling not merely the property, but the lives of his fellow-citizens; for the power of gold was no less--perhaps no greater--in antiquity than in our own day. We have seen what practical use the imperator made of this trenchant weapon. We have seen how the masses were pauperised; some hundreds of thousands of Roman citizens receiving bread without price. The largesses of Augustus are only comprehensible when one has fully grasped the position of the imperator as mulctor of nations. So long as all the productive nations of the world poured their earnings without equivalent into the imperial treasury, so long the citizen of Rome might live in idle luxury, taking no thought for a morrow, the needs of which were sure to be supplied by a paternal government. Not merely sustenance but amusement is supplied. Augustus sacrifices five thousand beasts in a single series of games; a band of elephants competes with an army of gladiators. Even a naval combat is arranged on an artificial lake near the city. And in the later day this phase of practical politics is developed to even larger proportions. Vespasian and Titus construct an amphitheatre--the famous Colosseum--which seats eighty-five thousand spectators; and on a single occasion Titus rejoices the people with a series of combats lasting through a hundred days.

It is good to live in Imperial Rome--place of inexhaustible bounty, of unceasing entertainment. There is no need to work, for slaves by tens of thousands conduct all menial affairs. Indeed, there is no business for the free man but pleasure--the bath, the banquet, the theatre, and the gladiatorial games. Rome is a glorious city in this day. With her renovated Forum, her new Capitol, her triumphal arches, her stupendous Colosseum, she is a city of marvels. To her contemporary citizens it seems that she is on a pinnacle of power and glory from which time itself cannot shake her. Looking back from the standpoint of later knowledge it is easy to moralise, easy to understand that decay was eating out the heart of the nation, easy to realise that all this mock civilisation rested above the crater of a volcano. But we may well believe that very few contemporary citizens had the prevision to match our modern thought.

And, indeed, it must in fairness be admitted that the shield has another side. However unstable the form of government, there is something in material prosperity which up to a certain stage, makes for intellectual eminence as well. And so in this first century of the Roman Empire there was no dearth of great men. The golden age of literature was the time of Augustus; the silver age was the time of his immediate successors. The poets and philosophers have left us such names as Valerius Maximus, Asinius Pollio, Seneca, Lucan, Valerius Flaccus, Martial, Quintilian, and Statius. History and science were never more fully represented than in the day of Paterculus, Mela, Quintus Curtius, Florus, Pliny, Josephus, Suetonius, and Tacitus. A time which produced such men as these was not wholly bad. Unfortunately no future century of Roman history will be able to show us such another list.[a]

FOOTNOTES

[19] Dion relates this incident with a little variation. According to him, the German soldier said, “I will give you the best assistance in my power;” and thereupon he stabbed Vitellius, and despatched himself. Dio, lib. LXV.

[20] [See Volume II, Ch. 14.]

[21] Vespasian and his two sons, Titus and Domitian.

[22] [All the gossip about the avarice of Vespasian seems to have resulted (1) from his increased taxation, and (2) from his economy. Such examples of humour as those here given were distorted into proofs of avarice.]

[23] [Domitian is called “bad” partly because he opposed the senate.]

[24] [Or rather the improvement, though actual, was not at once manifest.]

[25] [The real reasons were probably (1) that he was a senator, and (2) that his advanced age gave the ambitious an opportunity to intrigue for the throne.]

[26] [Importance attached primarily to the suffrage of the prætorian guards, who were stationed at or near Rome. The Roman populace itself had also to be considered. The legions stationed at a distance might support the prætorians, or might, on the other hand, bring forward their own candidates, as we have seen.]

[27] [A most efficient protector, securing peace and good government. But the submissive peoples lost all national and military spirit, so that they were indisposed to protect themselves after the protection of the empire was withdrawn.]