the spectacle of death. Sometimes in the midst of a play or pantomime
the fierce lust of blood would seize him, and he would cry out for a
combat of gladiators or nobles, who instantly obeyed; and after the
fight was over, and the corpses removed, the play would go on as if
nothing had occurred. The banners of the empire still continued to bear
the initial letters of the great words--the Senate and people of Rome.
We have now, in this rapid survey, seen what both those great names
have come to--the Senate crawling at the feet of the emperor, and the
people living on charity and shows. The slaves fared worst of all,
for they were despised by rich and poor. The sated voluptuary whose
property they were sometimes found an excitement to his jaded spirits
by having them tortured in his sight. They were allowed to die of
starvation when they grew old, unless they were turned to use, as was
done by one of their possessors, Vidius Pollio, who cast the fattest of
his domestics into his fish-pond to feed his lampreys. The only other
classes were the actors and musicians, the dwarfs and the philosophers.
They contributed by their wit, or their uncouth shape, or their
oracular sentences, to the amusement of their employers, and were safe.
They were licensed characters, and could say what they chose, protected
by the long-drawn countenance of the stoic, or the comic grimaces of
the buffoon. So early as the time of Nero, the people he tyrannized and
flattered were not less ruthless than himself. In his cruelty--in his
vanity--in his frivolity, and his entire devotion to the gratification
of his passions--he was a true representative of the men over whom he
ruled. Emperor and subject had even then become fitted for each other,
and flowers, we are credibly told by the historians, were hung for many
years upon his tomb.
Humanity itself seemed to be sunk beyond the possibility of
restoration; but we see now how necessary it was that our nature should
reach its lowest point of depression to give full force to the great
reaction which Christianity introduced. Men were slavishly bending at
the footstool of a despot, trembling for life, bowed down by fear and
misery, when suddenly it was reported that a great teacher had appeared
for a while upon earth, and declared that all men were equal in the
sight of God, for that God was the Father of all. The slave heard this
in the intervals of his torture--the captive in his dungeon--the widow
and the orphan. To the poor the gospel, or good news, was preached.
It was this which made the trembling courtiers of the worst of the
emperors slip out noiselessly from the palace, and hear from Paul of
Tarsus or his disciples the new prospect that was opening on mankind.
It spread quickly among those oppressed and hopeless multitudes. The
subjection of the Roman empire--its misery and degradation--were only a
means to an end. The harsher the laws of the tyrant, the more gracious
seemed the words of Christ. The two masters were plainly set before
them, which to choose. And who could hesitate? One said, "Tremble!
suffer! die!" The other said, "Come unto me, all ye that are weary and
heavy laden, and I will give you rest!"
SECOND CENTURY.
Emperors.
A.D.
TRAJAN--(_continued._) Third Persecution of the Christians.
117. ADRIAN. Fourth Persecution of the Christians.
138. ANTONINUS PIUS.
161. MARCUS AURELIUS.
180. COMMODUS.
193. PERTINAX--DIDIUS, and NIGER--Defeated by
193. SEPTIMIUS SEVERUS.
Authors.
PLINY THE YOUNGER, PLUTARCH, SUETONIUS, JUVENAL, ARRIAN, ÆLIAN,
PTOLEMY, (Geographer,) APPIAN, EPICTETUS, PAUSANIAS, GALEN,
(Physician,) ATHENÆUS, TERTULLIAN, JUSTIN MARTYR, TATIAN, IRENÆUS,
ATHENAGORAS, THEOPHILUS OF ANTIOCH, CLEMENT OF ALEXANDRIA, MARCION,
(Heretic.)
THE SECOND CENTURY.
THE GOOD EMPERORS.
In looking at the second century, we see a total difference in the
expression, though the main features continue unchanged. There is still
the central power at Rome, the same dependence everywhere else; but the
central power is beneficent and wise. As if tired of the hereditary
rule of succession which had ended in such a monster as Domitian, the
world took refuge in a new system of appointing its chiefs, and perhaps
thought it a recommendation of each successive emperor that he had no
relationship to the last. We shall accordingly find that, after this
period, the hereditary principle is excluded. It was remarked that, of
the twelve first Cæsars, only two had died a natural death--for even
in the case of Augustus the arts of the poisoner were suspected--and
those two were Vespasian and Titus, men who had no claim to such an
elevation in right of lofty birth. Birth, indeed, had ceased to be a
recommendation. All the great names of the Republic had been carefully
rooted out. Few people were inclined to boast of their ancestry
when the proof of their pedigree acted as a sentence of death; for
there was no surer passport to destruction in the times of the early
emperors than a connection with the Julian line, or descent from a
historic family. No one, therefore, took the trouble to inquire into
the genealogy of Nerva, the old and generous man who succeeded the
monster Domitian. [A.D. 96.] His nomination to the empire elevated him
at once out of the sphere of these inquiries, for already the same
superstitious reverence surrounded the name of Augustus which spreads
its inviolable sanctity on the throne of Eastern monarchs. Whoever sits
upon that, by whatever title, or however acquired, is the legitimate
and unquestioned king. No rival, therefore, started up to contest the
position either of Nerva himself, or of the stranger he nominated to
succeed him. [A.D. 102.] Men bent in humble acquiescence when they
knew, in the third year of this century, that their master was named
Trajan,--that he was a Spaniard by birth, and the best general of Rome.
For eighty years after that date the empire had rest. Life and property
were comparatively secure, and society flowed on peaceably in deep
and well-ascertained channels. A man might have been born at the end
of the reign of Domitian, and die in extreme old age under the sway
of the last of the Antonines, and never have known of insecurity or
oppression--
"Malice domestic, foreign levy, nothing
Could touch him farther!"
No wonder those agreeable years were considered by the fond gratitude
of the time, and the unavailing regrets of succeeding generations,
the golden age of man. Nerva, Trajan, Adrian, Antoninus Pius, Marcus
Aurelius Antoninus--these are still great names, and are everywhere
recognised as the most wonderful succession of sovereigns the world has
ever seen. They are still called the "Good Emperors," the "Wise Rulers."
It is easy, indeed, to be good in comparison with Nero, and wise in
comparison with Claudius; but the effect of the example of those
infamous tyrants made it doubly difficult to be either good or wise.
The world had become so accustomed to oppression, that it seemed at
first surprised at the change that had taken place. The emperors
had to create a knowledge of justice before their just acts could
be appreciated. The same opposition other men have experienced in
introducing bad and cruel measures was roused by their introduction
of wise and salutary laws. What! no more summary executions, nor
forfeitures of fortunes, nor banishments to the Danube? All men equal
before the dread tribunal of the imperial judge? The world was surely
coming to an end, if the emperor did not now and then poison a senator,
or stab his brother, or throw half a dozen courtiers to the beasts!
It is likely enough that some of the younger Romans at first lamented
those days of unlimited license and perpetual excitement; but in the
course of time those wilder spirits must have died out, and the world
gladly acquiesced in an existence of dull security and uninteresting
peace. By the end of the reign of Trajan the records of the miseries of
the last century must have been studied as curiosities--as historical
students now look back on the extravagances and horrors of the French
Revolution. Fortunately, men could not look forward to the times, more
pitiable still, when their descendants should fall into greater sorrows
than had been inflicted on mankind by the worst of the Cæsars, and they
enjoyed their present immunity from suffering without any misgivings
about the future. But a government which does every thing for a people
renders it unable to do any thing for itself. The subject stood quietly
by while the emperor filled all the offices of the State--guarded him,
fed him, clothed him, treated him like a child, and reduced him at
last to childlike dependence. An unjust proconsul, instead of being
supported and encouraged in his exactions, was dismissed from his
employment and forced to refund his ill-got gains,--the population,
relieved from their oppressor, saw in his punishment the hand of an
avenging Providence. The wakeful eye of the governor in Rome saw the
hostile preparations of a tribe of barbarians beyond the Danube; and
the legions, crossing the river, dispersed and subdued them before they
had time to devastate the Roman fields. The peaceful colonist saw, in
the suddenness of his deliverance, the foresight and benevolence of a
divinity. No words were powerful enough to convey the sentiments of
admiration awakened, by such vigour and goodness, in the breast of a
luxurious and effeminate people; and accordingly, if we look a little
closely into the personal attributes of the five good emperors, we
shall see that some part of their glory is due to the exaggerations of
love and gratitude.
Nerva reigned but sixteen months, and had no time to do more than
display his kindness of disposition, and to name his successor. This
was Trajan, a man who was not even a Roman by birth, but who was
thought by his patron to have retained, in the distant province of
Spain where he was born, the virtues which had disappeared in the
centre and capital of the empire. The deficiency of Nerva's character
had been its softness and want of force. The stern vigilance of Trajan
made ample amends. He was the best-known soldier of his time, and
revived once more the terror of the Roman arms. He conquered wherever
he appeared; but his warlike impetuosity led him too far. He trod in
the footsteps of Alexander the Great, and advanced farther eastward
than any of the Roman armies had previously done. But his victories
were fruitless: he attached no new country permanently to the empire,
and derives all his glory now from the excellence of his internal
administration. He began his government by declaring himself as
subordinate to the laws as the meanest of the people. His wife, Pompeia
Plotina, was worthy of such a husband, and said, on mounting the steps
of the palace, that she should descend them unaltered from what she
was. The emperor visited his friends on terms of equality, and had the
greatness of mind, generally deficient in absolute princes, to bestow
his confidence on those who deserved it. Somebody, a member perhaps
of the old police who had made such fortunes in the time of Domitian
by alarming the tyrant with stories of plots and assassinations, told
Trajan one day to beware of his minister, who intended to murder him
on the first opportunity. "Come again, and tell me all particulars
to-morrow," said the emperor. In the mean time he went unbidden and
supped with the accused. He was shaved by his barber--was attended for
a mock illness by his surgeon--bathed in his bath--and ate his meat
and drank his wine. On the following day the informer came. "Ah!" said
Trajan, interrupting him in his accusation of Surenus, "if Surenus had
wished to kill me, he would have done it last night."
[A.D. 117.]
The emperor died when returning from a distant expedition in the
East, and Pompeia declared that he had long designated Adrian as his
successor. This evidence was believed, and Adrian, also a Spaniard by
birth, and eminent as a military commander, began his reign. Trajan had
been a general--a conqueror, and had extended for a time the boundaries
of the Roman power. But Adrian believed the empire was large enough
already. He withdrew the eagles from the half-subdued provinces, and
contented himself with the natural limits which it was easy to defend.
But within those limits his activity was unexampled. He journeyed from
end to end of his immense domain, and for seventeen years never rested
in one spot. News did not travel fast in those days--but the emperor
did. Long before the inhabitants of Syria and Egypt heard that he had
left Rome on an expedition to Britain, he had rushed through Gaul,
crossed the Channel, inquired into the proceedings of the government
officers at York, given orders for a wall to keep out the Caledonians,
(an attempt which has proved utterly vain at all periods of English
history, down to the present day,) and suddenly made his appearance
among the bewildered dwellers in Ephesus or Carthage, to call
tax-gatherers to order and to inspect the discipline of his troops.
The master's eye was everywhere, for nobody knew on what point it was
fixed. And such a master no kingdom has been able to boast of since.
His talents were universal. He read every thing and forgot nothing.
He was a musician, a poet, a philosopher. He studied medicine and
mineralogy, and plead causes like Cicero, and sang like a singer at the
opera. Perhaps it is difficult to judge impartially of the qualities
of a Roman emperor. One day he found fault on a point of grammar with
a learned man of the name of Favorinus. Favorinus could have defended
himself and justified his language, but continued silent. His friends
said to him, "Why didn't you answer the emperor's objections?" "Do
you think," said the sensible grammarian, "I am going to enter into
disputes with a man who commands thirty legions?" But the greatness
of Adrian's character is, that he _did_ command those thirty legions.
He was severe and just; and Roman discipline was never more exact.
The result of this was shown on the grand scale only once during this
reign, and that was in the case of the revolted Jews. We have seen the
state to which their Temple at Jerusalem was reduced by Titus. Fifty
years had now passed, and the passionate love of the people for their
native land had congregated them once more within their renovated
walls, and raised up another temple on the site of the old. They still
expected the Messiah, for the Messiah to them represented vengeance
upon the Romans and triumph over the world. An impostor of the name
of Barcho-chebas led three hundred thousand of them into the field.
They were mad with national hatred, and inspired with fanatical hope.
It took three years of desperate effort to quell this sedition; and
then Adrian had his revenge. The country was laid waste. Fifty towns
and a thousand villages were sacked and burned. The population, once
more nearly exhausted by war and famine, furnished slaves, which were
sold all over the East. Jerusalem itself felt the conqueror's hatred
most. Its name was blotted out--it was called Ælia Capitolina; and,
with ferocious mockery, over the gate of the new capital of Judea
was affixed the statue of the unclean beast, the abomination of the
Israelite. But nothing could keep the Jews from visiting the land of so
many promises and so much glory. Whenever they had it in their power,
they crept back from all quarters, if it were only to weep and die amid
the ruins of their former power.
Trajan and Adrian had now made the world accustomed to justice in its
rulers; and as far as regards their public conduct, this character
is not to be denied. Yet in their private relations they were not so
faultless. Trajan the great and good was a drunkard. To such a pitch
did he carry this vice, that he gave orders that after a certain hour
of the day none of his commands were to be obeyed. Adrian was worse: he
was regardless of life; he put men to death for very small offences. An
architect was asked how he liked a certain series of statues designed
by the emperor and ranged in a sitting attitude round a temple which
he had built. The architect was a humourist, not a courtier. "If the
goddesses," he said, "take it into their heads to rise, they will never
be able to get out at the door." A poor criticism, and not a good
piece of wit, but not bad enough to justify his being beheaded; yet
the answer cost the poor man his life. As Adrian grew older, he grew
more reckless of the pain he gave. He had a brother-in-law ninety years
of age, and there was a grandson of the old man aged eighteen. He had
them both executed on proof or suspicion of a conspiracy. The popular
feeling was revolted by the sight of the mingled blood of two sufferers
so nearly related, at the opposite extremities of life. The old man,
just before he died, protested his innocence, and uttered a revengeful
prayer that Adrian might wish to die and find death impossible! This
imprecation was fulfilled. The emperor was tortured with disease, and
longed for deliverance in vain. He called round him his physicians, and
priests, and sorcerers, but they could give him no relief. He begged
his slaves to kill him, and stabbed himself with a dagger; but in
spite of all he could not die. Lingering on, and with no cessation of
his pain, he must have had sad thoughts of the past, and no pleasant
anticipations of the future, if, as we learn from the verses attributed
to him, he believed in a future state. His lines still remain, but are
indebted to Pope, who paraphrased them, for their Christian spirit and
lofty aspiration:--
"Vital spark of heavenly flame!
Quit, oh, quit this mortal frame!
Trembling, hoping, lingering, flying,
Oh, the pain, the bliss of dying!
Cease, fond nature, cease thy strife,
And let me languish into life!
"Hark! they whisper! angels say,
Sister spirit, come away!
What is this absorbs me quite,
Steals my senses, shuts my sight,
Drowns my spirits, draws my breath?
Tell me, my soul, can this be death?
"The world recedes; it disappears!
Heaven opens on my eyes! my ears
With sounds seraphic ring:
Lend, lend your wings! I mount! I fly!
O Grave! where is thy victory?
O Death! where is thy sting?"
His wish was at last achieved. He died aged sixty-two, having reigned
twenty-one years. In travelling and building his whole time was spent.
Temples, theatres, bridges--wherever he went, these evidences of his
wisdom or magnificence remained. He persecuted the Christians, but
found persecution a useless proceeding against a sect who gloried in
martyrdom, and whose martyrdoms were only followed by new conversions.
He tried what an opposite course of conduct would do, and is said to
have intended to erect a temple to Jesus Christ. "Take care what you
do," said one of his counsellors: "if you permit an altar to the God of
the Christians, those of the other gods will be deserted."
[A.D. 138.]
But now came to supreme authority the good and wise Antoninus Pius, who
was as blameless in his private conduct as in his public acts. His fame
extended farther than the Roman arms had ever reached. Distant kings,
in lands of which the names were scarcely known in the Forum, took him
as arbiter of their differences. The decision of the great man in Rome
gave peace on the banks of the Indus. The barbarians themselves on the
outskirts of his dominions were restrained by respect for a character
so pure and power so wisely used. An occasional revolt in Britain
was quelled by his lieutenants--an occasional conspiracy against his
authority was caused by the discontent which turbulent spirits feel
when restrained by law. The conspiracies were repressed, and on one
occasion two of the ringleaders were put to death. The Senate was for
making further inquiry into the plot. "Let us stop here," said the
emperor. "I do not wish to find out how many people I have displeased."
Some stories are told of him, which show how little he affected the
state of a despotic ruler. A pedantic philosopher at Smyrna, of the
name of Polemo, returned from a journey at a late hour, and found the
proconsul of Rome lodged in his house. This proconsul was Antonine,
who at that time had been appointed to the office by Adrian. Instead
of being honoured by such a guest, the philosopher stormed and raged,
and made so much noise, that in the middle of the night the sleepless
proconsul left the house and found quarters elsewhere. When years
passed on, and Antonine was on the throne, Polemo had the audacity to
present himself as an old acquaintance. "Ha! I remember him," said the
emperor: "let him have a room in the palace, but don't let him leave
it night or day." The imprisonment was not long, for we find the same
Polemo hero of another anecdote during this visit to Rome. He hissed
a performer in the theatre, and stamped and screeched, and made such
a disturbance that the unfortunate actor had to leave the stage. He
complained of Polemo to the emperor. "Polemo!" exclaimed Antonine; "he
forced you off the stage in the middle of the day, but he drove me
from his house in the middle of the night, and yet I never appealed."
It would be pleasant if we could learn that Polemo did not get off so
easily. But the twenty-two years of this reign of mildness and probity
were brought to a close, and Marcus Aurelius succeeded in 161.
[A.D. 161]