country. That Italy in particular was exposed to the effect of floods and
earthquakes, we know. Accordingly the lawyers are seriously concerned
with the legal and equitable questions arising out of such events. It was
not merely the claim of tenants[1513] to abatement of rent that called
for a statement of principles. Beside the sudden effects of earthquakes
torrents or fires, there were the slower processes of streams changing
their courses[1514] and gradual land-slides on the slopes of hills. These
movements generally affected the proprietary relations of neighbouring
landlords, taking away land from one, sometimes giving to another.
Here was a fine opening for ingenious jurists, of which they took full
advantage. The growth of estates by alluvion, and loss by erosion, was
a favourite topic, the operation of which, and the questions thereby
raised, are so earnestly treated as to shew their great importance in
country life. Of fire-damage, due to malice or neglect, no more need be
said; nor of many other minor matters.
But, when all the above drawbacks have been allowed for, it is still
probably true that scarcity of labour was a far greater difficulty for
farmers. We hear very little directly of this trouble, as it raised no
point of law. Very significant[1515] however are the attempts of the
Senate and certain emperors to put down an inveterate scandal which
is surely good indirect evidence of the scarcity. It consisted in the
harbouring[1516] of runaway slaves on the estates of other landlords. A
runaway from one estate was of course not protected and fed on another
estate from motives of philanthropy. The slave would be well aware that
severe punishment awaited him if recovered by his owner, and therefore
be willing to work for a new master who might, if displeased, surrender
him any day. The landlords guilty of this treason to the interests
of their class were probably the same as those who harboured[1517]
brigands, another practice injurious to peaceful agriculture both in
Italy and abroad. Another inconvenience, affecting all trades and all
parts of the empire in various degrees, was the local difference in
the money-value[1518] of commodities in different markets. This was
sometimes great: and that it was troublesome to farmers may be inferred
from the particular mention of wine oil and corn as cases in point. No
doubt dealers had the advantage over producers, as they generally have,
through possessing a more than local knowledge of necessary facts. These
middlemen however could not be dispensed with, as experience shewed,
and one of the later jurists[1519] openly recognized. Facilities for
borrowing, and rates of interest, varied greatly in various centres.
But all these market questions do not seem to have been so acute as to
be a public danger until the ruinous debasement of the currency in the
time of Gallienus. A few references may be found to peculiar usages of
country life in particular Provinces. Thus we read that in Arabia[1520]
farms were sometimes ‘boycotted,’ any person cultivating such a farm
being threatened with assassination. In Egypt[1521] special care had to
be taken to protect the dykes regulating the distribution of Nile water.
Both these offences were summarily dealt with by the provincial governor,
and the penalty was death. Here we have one more proof of the anxiety of
the imperial government to insure the greatest possible production of
food. The empire was always hungry,—and so were the barbarians. And the
northern frontier provinces could not feed both themselves and the armies.
While speaking of landlords and tenants we must not forget that all over
the empire considerable areas of land were owned by municipalities,
and dealt with at the discretion of the local authorities. Variety of
systems was no doubt dictated by variety of local circumstances: but
one characteristic was so general as to deserve special attention on the
part of jurists. This was the system of perpetual leaseholds[1522] at
a fixed (and undoubtedly beneficial) rent, heritable and transferable
to assigns. So long as the tenant regularly paid the _vectigal_, his
occupation was not to be disturbed. It was evidently the desire of the
municipal authorities to have a certain income to reckon with: for the
sake of certainty they would put up with something less than a rack-rent.
There were also other lands owned by these _civitates_ that were let on
the system[1523] in use by private landlords; the normal term probably
being five years. Of these no more need be said here. Beneficial leases
under a municipality were liable to corrupt management. It had been found
necessary[1524] to disqualify members of the local Senate (_decuriones_)
from holding such leases, that they might not share out the common lands
among themselves on beneficial terms. But this prohibition was not
enough. The town worthies put in men of straw[1525] as nominal tenants,
through whom they enjoyed the benefits of the leases. So this evasion
also had to be met by revoking the ill-gotten privilege. But disturbance
of tenancies was not to be lightly allowed, so it appears that a
reference to the emperor[1526] was necessary before such revocation
could take place. This system of perpetual leases is of interest, not
as indicating different methods of cultivation from those practised on
private estates, but as betraying a tendency to fixity[1527] already
existing, destined to spread and to take other forms, and to become
the fatal characteristic of the later Empire. Another striking piece
of evidence in the same direction occurs in connexion with the lessees
(_publicani_) of various state dues (_vectigalia publica_) farmed out
in the usual way. In the first half of the third century the jurist
Paulus attests[1528] the fact that, in case it was found that the right
of collecting such dues, hitherto very profitable to the lessees, could
only be let at a lower lump sum than hitherto, the old lessees were held
bound to continue their contract at the old price. But Callistratus,
contemporary or nearly so, tells us that this was not so, and
quotes[1529] a rescript of Hadrian (117-138 AD) condemning the practice
as tyrannical and likely to deter men from entering into so treacherous
a bargain. It appears that other[1530] emperors had forbidden it, but
there is no proof that they succeeded in stopping it. At all events
the resort to coercion in a matter of contract like this reveals the
presence of a belief in compulsory fixity, ominous of the coming imperial
paralysis, though of course not so understood at the time. It did not
directly affect agriculture as yet; but its application to agriculture
was destined to be a symptom and a cause of the empire’s decline and fall.
Another group of tenancies, the number and importance of which was
quietly increasing, was that known as _praedia Caesaris_[1531], _fundi
fiscales_, and so forth. We need not discuss the departmental differences
and various names of these estates. The tenants, whether small men or
_conductores_ on a large scale who sublet in parcels[1532] to _coloni_,
held either directly or indirectly from the emperor. We have seen
specimens in Africa, the Province in which the crown-properties were
exceptionally large. What chiefly concerns us here is the imperial
land-policy. It seems clear that its first aim was to keep these estates
permanently occupied by good solvent tenants. The surest means to this
end was to give these estates a good name, to create a general impression
that on imperial farms a man had a better chance of thriving than on
those of average private landlords. Now the ‘state,’ that is the emperor
or his departmental chiefs, could favour crown-tenants in various ways
without making a material sacrifice of a financial kind. In particular,
the treatment of crown-estates as what we call ‘peculiars,’ in which
local disputes were settled, not by resort to the courts of ordinary law,
but administratively[1533] by the emperor’s _procuratores_, was probably
a great relief; above all to the humbler _coloni_, whom we may surely
assume to have been a class averse to litigation. No doubt a _procurator_
might be corrupted and unjust. But he was probably far more effectually
watched than ordinary magistrates; and, if the worst came to the worst,
there was as we have seen the hope of a successful appeal to the emperor.
Another favour consisted in the exemption of Caesar’s tenants from
various burdensome official duties in municipalities, the so-called
_munera_, which often entailed great expense. This is mentioned by a
jurist[1534] near the end of the second century: they are only to perform
such duties so far as not to cause loss to the treasury. Another[1535],
somewhat later, says that their exemption is granted in order that
they may be more suitable tenants of treasury-farms. This exemption is
one more evidence of the well-known fact that in this age municipal
offices were beginning to be evaded[1536] as ruinous, and no longer
sought as an honour. We must note that, if this _immunitas_ relieved
the crown-tenants, it left all the more burdens to be borne by those who
enjoyed no such relief. And this cannot have been good for agriculture in
general.
It is not to be supposed that the _fiscus_[1537] was a slack and easy
landlord. Goods of debtors were promptly seized to cover liabilities:
attempts to evade payment of _tributa_ by a private agreement[1538]
between mortgagor and mortgagee were quashed: a rescript[1539] of Marcus
and Verus insisted on the treasury share (½) of treasure trove: and
so on. But there are signs of a reasonable and considerate policy, in
not pressing demands so as to inflict hardship. Trajan[1540] had set a
good example, and good emperors followed it. We may fairly guess that
this moderation in financial dealings was not wholly laid aside in
the management of imperial estates. Nor is it to be imagined that the
advantages of imperial tenants were exactly the same in all parts of the
empire. In Provinces through which armies had to move it is probable that
_coloni Caesaris_ would suffer less[1541] than ordinary farmers from
military annoyances. But on the routes to and from a seat of war it is
obvious that the imperial post-service would be subjected to exceptional
strain. Now this service was at the best of times[1542] a cause of
vexations and losses to the farmers along the line of traffic. The
staff made good all deficiencies in their requirements by taking beasts
fodder vehicles etc wherever they could find them: what they restored
was much the worse for wear, and compensation, if ever got, was tardy
and inadequate. The repair of roads was another pretext for exaction.
It is hardly to be doubted that in these respects imperial tenants
suffered less than others. Some emperors[1543] took steps to ease the
burden, which had been found too oppressive to the roadside estates. But
this seems to have been no more than relief from official requisitions:
irregular ‘commandeering’ was the worst evil, and we have no reason to
think that it was effectually suppressed. It appears in the next period
as a rampant abuse, vainly forbidden by the laws of the Theodosian code.
L. THE LATER COLONATE, ITS PLACE IN ROMAN HISTORY.
In the endeavour to extract from scattered and fragmentary evidence
some notion of agricultural conditions in the Roman empire before and
after Diocletian we are left with two imperfect pictures, so strongly
contrasted as to suggest a suspicion of their truth. We can hardly
believe that the system known as the later Colonate appeared in full
force as a sudden phenomenon. Nor indeed are we compelled to fly so
directly in the face of historical experience. That we have no narrative
of the steps that led to this momentous change, is surely due to the
inability of contemporaries to discern the future effect of tendencies
operating silently[1544] and piecemeal. What seems at the moment
insignificant, even if observed, is seldom recorded, and very seldom
intentionally. Hence after generations, seeking to trace effects to
causes, are puzzled by defects of record. Their only resource is to
supplement, so far as possible, defective record by general consideration
of the history of the time in question and cautious inference therefrom:
in fact to get at the true meaning of fragmentary admissions in relation
to their historical setting. The chief topic to be dealt with here from
this point of view is the character of the Roman Empire in several
aspects. For among all the anxieties of the government during these
troubled centuries the one that never ceased was the fear of failure in
supplies of food.
The character of the Roman Empire had been largely determined by the
fact that it arose from the overthrow of a government that had long
been practically aristocratic. The popular movements that contributed
to this result only revealed the impossibility of establishing anything
like a democracy, and the unreality of any power save the power of the
sword. The great dissembler Augustus concealed a virtual autocracy by
conciliatory handling of the remains of the nobility. But the Senate, to
which he left or gave many powers, was never capable of bearing a vital
part in the administration, and its influence continued to dwindle under
his successors. The master of the army was the master of the empire,
and influence was more and more vested in those who were able to guide
his policy. That these might be, and sometimes were, not born Romans at
all, but imperial freedmen generally of Greek or mixed-Greek origin,
was a very significant fact. In particular, it marked and encouraged
the growth of departmental bureaus, permanent and efficient beyond the
standard of previous Roman experience. But the price of this efficiency
was centralization, a condition that carried with it inevitable dangers,
owing to the vast extent of the empire. In modern times the fashionable
remedy suggested for over-centralization is devolution of powers to local
governments controlling areas of considerable size. Or, in cases of
aggregation, the existing powers left to states merged in a confederation
are considerable. In any case, the subordinate units are free to act
within their several limited spheres, and the central government
respects their ‘autonomy,’ only interfering in emergencies to enforce the
fulfilment of definite common obligations.
But, if it had been desired to gain any such relief by a system of
devolution within the Roman empire, this would have meant the recognition
of ‘autonomy’ in the Provinces. And this was inconceivable. The extension
of Roman dominion had been achieved by dividing Rome’s adversaries. Once
conquered, it was the interest or policy of the central power to keep
them in hand by preventing the growth of self-conscious cohesion in the
several units. Each Province was, as the word implied, a department of
the Roman system, ruled by a succession of Roman governors. It looked to
Rome for orders, for redress of grievances, for protection at need. If
the advance of Rome destroyed no true nations, her government at least
made the development of truly national characteristics impossible, while
she herself formed no Roman nation. Thus, for better or worse, the empire
was _non-national_. But, as we have already seen, the decline of Italy
made it more and more clear that the strength of the empire lay in the
Provinces. Now, having no share in initiative and no responsibility, the
Provinces steadily lost vitality under Roman civilization, and became
more and more helplessly dependent on the central power. As the strain on
the empire became greater, the possibility of relief by devolution grew
less: but more centralization was no cure for what was already a disease.
That local government of a kind existed in the empire is true enough;
also that it was one of the most striking and important features of
the system. But it was municipal, and tended rather to subdivide than
to unite. It was the outcome of a civilization profoundly urban in
its origins and ideas. The notion that a city was a state was by no
means confined to the independent cities of early Greece. Whether it
voluntarily merged itself in a League or lived on as a subordinate unit
in the system of a dominant power, the city and its territory were
politically one. Within their several boundaries the townsmen and rustic
citizens of each city were subject to the authorities of that community.
Beyond their own boundary they were aliens under the authorities of
another city. It is no wonder that jealousies between neighbour cities
were often extreme, and that Roman intervention was often needed to keep
the peace between rivals. But the system suited Roman policy. In the East
and wherever cities existed they were taken over as administrative units
and as convenient centres of taxation: in the West it was found useful
and practicable to introduce urban centres into tribes and cantons, and
even in certain districts to attach[1545] local populations to existing
cities as dependent hamlets. And, so long as the imperial government
was able to guard the frontiers and avert the shock of disturbances of
the Roman peace, the empire held its own in apparent prosperity. To
some historians the period of the ‘Antonines’ (say about 100-170 AD)
has seemed a sort of Golden Age. But signs are not lacking that the
municipal system had seen its best days. The severe strain on imperial
resources in the time of Marcus left behind it general exhaustion.
The decay of local patriotism marked the pressure of poverty and loss
of vitality in the cities. More and more their importance became that
of mere taxation-centres, in which the evasion of duty was the chief
preoccupation: they could not reinvigorate the empire, nor the empire
them.
Another characteristic of the empire, not less significant than those
mentioned above, was this: taken as a whole, it was _non-industrial_.
Manufactures existed here and there, and products of various kinds were
exchanged between various parts of the empire. So far as the ordinary
population was concerned, the Roman world might well have supplied its
own needs. But this was not enough. The armies, though perilously small
for the work they had to do, were a heavy burden. The imperial civil
service as it became more elaborate did not become less costly. The waste
of resources on unremunerative buildings and shows in cities, above all
in Rome, and the ceaseless expense of feeding a worthless rabble, were
a serious drain: ordained by established custom, maintained by vanity,
to economize on these follies would seem a confession of weakness. Nor
should the extravagance of the rich, and of many emperors, be forgotten:
this created a demand for luxuries chiefly imported from the East;
precious stones, delicate fabrics, spices, perfumes, rare woods, ivory,
and so forth. Rome had no goods to export in payment for such things, and
the scarcity of return-cargoes must have added heavily to the cost of
carriage. There was on this account a steady drain of specie to the East,
and this had to be met by a corresponding drain of specie to Rome. In one
form or another this meant money drawn from the Provinces, for which the
Provinces received hardly the bare pretence of an equivalent, or a better
security for peace.
Thus the empire, created by conquest and absorption, administered by
bureaucratic centralization, _rested on force_; a force partly real and
still present, partly traditional, derived from a victorious past. The
belief in Rome as the eternal city went for much, and we hear of no
misgivings as to the soundness of a civilization which expressed itself
in a constant excess of consumption over production. Naturally enough,
under such conditions, the imperial system became more and more what
it really was from the first, a vast machine. It was not a league of
cooperating units, each containing a vital principle of growth, and
furnishing the power of recovery from disaster. Its apathetic parts
looked passively to the centre for guidance or relief, depending on the
perfection of a government whose imperfection was assured by attempting
a task beyond the reach of human faculty and virtue. The exposure of
the empire’s weakness came about through collision with the forces of
northern barbarism. What a machine could do, that it did, and its final
failure was due to maladies that made vain all efforts to renew its
internal strength.
The wars with the northern barbarians brought out with singular clearness
two important facts, already known but not sufficiently taken into
account. First, that the enemy were increasing in numbers while the
people of the empire were in most parts stationary or even declining.
Bloody victories, when gained, did practically nothing to redress the
balance. Secondly, that at the back of this embarrassing situation lay
a food-question of extreme seriousness and complexity. More and more
food was needed for the armies, and the rustics of the empire, even when
fitted for military service, could not be spared from the farms without
danger to the food-supply. The demands of the commissariat were probably
far greater than we might on the face of it suppose; for an advance into
the enemy’s territory did not ease matters. Little or nothing was found
to eat: indeed it was the pressure of a growing population on the means
of subsistence that drove the hungry German tribes to face the Roman
sword in quest of abundant food and the wine and oil of the South and
West. The attempt of Marcus and others after him, to solve the problems
of the moment by enlisting barbarians in Roman armies, was no permanent
solution. The aliens too had to be fed, and their pay in money could not
be deferred. Meanwhile the taxation of the empire inevitably grew, and
the productive industries had to stagger along under heavier burdens.
The progressive increase of these is sufficiently illustrated in the
history of _indictiones_. At first an _indictio_ was no more than an
occasional[1546] impost of so much corn levied by imperial proclamation
on landed properties in order to meet exceptional scarcity in Rome.
But it was in addition to the regular _tributum_, and was of course
most likely to occur in years when scarcity prevailed. No wonder it was
already felt onerous[1547] in the time of Trajan. Pressure on imperial
resources caused it not only to become more frequent, and eventually
normal: it was extended[1548] to include other products, and became a
regular burden of almost universal application, and ended by furnishing
a new chronological unit, the Indiction-period of 15 years.