On the eastern frontier it was for a long time a game of tug-of-war

between Rome and Parthia, the rope being supplied by the kingdom of

Armenia. The Augustan policy of filling the oriental thrones with

princes trained at Rome was not a great success. You might learn bad

lessons at court; you might even learn to know Rome without learning

to love or fear her. The princes sent to Armenia or Parthia were

unstable allies and the ordinary course of events was for the Romans

to send out a king to Armenia and for the Parthians to depose him.

Again it was left for Trajan to attack this problem in the old Roman

fashion; when the usual submissive embassy arrived, Trajan answered,

as a Metellus might have done, that he wanted deeds not words, and he

led his army on. Trajan found the Eastern legions, whose headquarters

were at Antioch, already civilianised and orientalised so that they

had become useless for fighting. At this time there were four legions

in Syria, one in Judæa and one in the new province of Cappadocia.

The first task was to restore discipline and energy to these troops.

Then, without bloodshed, in A.D. 115 Armenia was declared a province.

Parthia, distracted by civil war, was overrun, its capital Ctesiphon

easily taken by siege. Mesopotamia was made a province, and to Parthia

was given a new king. The client kingdom of Adiabene became a third new

province under the name of Assyria. This meant that the Tigris became

the eastern frontier instead of the Euphrates. Unfortunately these

conquests had been too easily achieved, largely through the temporary

dissensions of the Parthians, who accordingly failed to experience

the salutary discipline of real defeat. Trajan died on his way home,

and Hadrian, who was more of a statesman than a warrior, reversed his

predecessor’s policy. He surrendered the three new provinces and even

acquiesced in the Parthians’ choice of a king of their own in place of

the Roman nominee. The only new provinces of Trajan’s creation which

Hadrian retained were Dacia and Arabia.

Although their military force was contemptible, their spiritual zeal

made the Jews the most difficult people to govern in the whole empire.

Worshipping their Jealous God with fierce ardour, they could not

join in the Cæsar-worship which was the outward sign of loyalty and

patriotism throughout the Roman world. Moreover the Semitic question

had already begun to vex the soul of Europe. Throughout the East and

especially in the trade centres such as Antioch, Alexandria, and

Cyrene there were already large communities of Jews who lived on the

usual terms of deep-rooted racial animosity with their neighbours.

It is only fair to the Roman government to admit that it tried to

conciliate its difficult subjects. Though the vanity of Caligula led

him to accept the suggestion of erecting a colossal statue of him

in the Temple at Jerusalem, yet when the philosopher Philo and his

fellow-ambassadors came over to plead against the outrage the emperor

good-humouredly remarked that if people refused to worship him it was

more their misfortune than their fault. As a rule the Roman procurators

who administered Galilee and Judæa were almost too tolerant of Jewish

fanaticism. The Jews were exempt from military service: their Sabbaths

were respected. A Roman soldier who tore a book of the law was put

to death. It was useless to argue with such sects as the Zealots and

Assassins. The Anti-Semite spirit broke out into massacres. In Cæsarea,

Damascus, and elsewhere the Gentiles slew the Jews; in Alexandria and

Cyrene the Jews slaughtered the Gentiles. In Jerusalem the Romans had

to face violent discord between the rival factions, and naturally they

sided with the more tolerant and moderate Sadducees against the stern

Pharisees and the smaller sects of extremists. In A.D. 66 matters came

to a crisis. A Roman garrison was attacked and destroyed: the army

which came from Syria to avenge them was repulsed with slaughter. This

occurred while the Emperor Nero was on one of his theatrical tours

in Greece, and in the next year Vespasian was sent with an army of

three legions and auxiliaries which increased its numbers to more than

50,000. During the death of Nero and the short reigns of his three

successors, Vespasian was gradually subduing Palestine and driving the

irreconcilables before him into Jerusalem. Vespasian himself became

emperor and it was left to his son Titus to finish the tragedy. The

siege of Jerusalem (A.D. 70) was one of the most difficult tasks which

the Romans ever had to face. In addition to its natural strength there

were six lines of fortification to be overcome one by one, and each was

defended with all the grim tenacity of which the Semite race is capable

when it is on the defensive. Five months the great siege lasted, and

at the end Jerusalem was a heap of ruins. Some of the temple treasures

were saved for the Roman triumph, and the Arch of Titus still shows

us the famous seven-branched golden candlestick being carried up

to the temple of Capitoline Jove.[66] It is said that one million

Jews perished in the siege and 100,000 more were sold into slavery.

Jerusalem became merely the camp of the Tenth Legion. All Judæa became

one province, and the scattered Jews were only allowed to keep their

privileges on condition of registering their names and paying a fee of

two denarii every year for their licence.

But this awful lesson had not quenched the fire of Jewish patriotism

nor killed their hopes of an earthly Messiah who should restore

the kingdom of David. Once again under Hadrian there was a Jewish

rebellion stimulated by the fact that the emperor forbade the rite of

circumcision and decreed the foundation of a Roman colony at Jerusalem

with a temple to Jupiter on Mount Zion. The revolt was stamped out with

merciless severity and the Jews were scattered for ever.

The only other noteworthy addition to the Roman Empire was Mauretania

(Morocco), which was incorporated as a province by Caligula. The motive

alleged was the emperor’s desire to possess himself of the treasures of

Ptolemy, its king.

On the whole, then, we can see that the Roman Empire had almost reached

its natural limits. It had seized as much as it could govern, and

now, with the exception of the Parthian kingdom, all that lay outside

its frontiers was naked barbarism. So the centre grew more and more

unwarlike, while the legions had little to occupy their minds except

the speculation whether their particular general had a chance of

the purple. For this reason alone the Cæsars were loth to embark on

conquests, unless like Trajan they were willing to neglect everything

else and undertake the campaigns in person. A victorious general was

always to be dreaded by his master.

THE PRINCIPATE

At first sight the position of the princeps, who was absolute lord of

this world, is one of immense and terrible power. But earthly power

has its natural limits in human weakness. The weak or wicked emperors

were generally the servants of their favourites, male or female, or

they lived under fear of the legions. Without their bureaux they were

helpless, and the bureaux in the skilled hands of Roman knights or

Greek freedmen were acquiring the real power. But it is astonishing how

much actual work was done by the more conscientious Cæsars. In Pliny’s

letters we see what minute details were referred by a provincial

governor to his master and how minutely they were answered. The answers

may be, and no doubt sometimes are, the composition of secretaries, but

there is a personal note in them which often suggests the emperor’s

own dictation. Probably Trajan was exceptionally industrious and Pliny

exceptionally meticulous. Nevertheless it looks as if a strong emperor

actually ruled this vast domain. It is one of the merits of despotism

that the monarch’s power increases automatically with his virtues

and capacity. A Caligula could not do so much harm: an Augustus, a

Claudius, a Trajan, or a Hadrian might benefit millions of mankind. I

think it is clear that they did so. The insane work of slaughter, which

is all that interests the ordinary historian, had almost ceased. All

over the world the markets were full, the workshops were noisy with

hammers, the seas were thronged with ships, the great highways busy

with travellers. Justice was strong and even-handed. Taxes were low

and equitably assessed. For the most part men had liberty to go their

own ways and worship their own gods. From the accession of Augustus

to the death of Antoninus Pius--and with a few intervals one might

safely go further--the world was enjoying one of its golden periods of

prosperity. It is unhistorical to look ahead and pronounce this happy

world to be already doomed.

Yet, on the other hand, it is idle to deny the unsound spots in this

imposing fabric of empire. The weakness was at the centre. The Roman

aristocracy was gay and splendid, but not happy or secure. The ghost of

the Republic still haunted her streets. To make a necessary repetition:

if Augustus had been succeeded by a son as wise and tactful as himself,

and if the throne had then passed to a third generation with the

soldierly qualities of Trajan and the statesmanship of Diocletian,

the Empire might have taken shape as a strong hereditary monarchy

with a senate co-operating heartily, and an army obeying loyally.

But that was not fated so. Tiberius was too proud to play the comedy

as Augustus had done: instead he made enemies of the aristocracy and

became suspicious and tyrannical. When they lampooned and abused him,

he turned into a despot. Cremutius Cordus, the historian, was executed

for calling Cassius “the last of the Romans.” At last Tiberius withdrew

himself in gloomy despair and left the government in the hands of an

unscrupulous intriguer, the knight Sejanus, who still further harried

and alienated the nobles. It is hard to know the truth about Gaius, so

palpably is his story written by satirists. He may have been mad. The

adulation which surrounded the Cæsars was enough to turn the head of a

vain youth. He was certainly extravagant and increased his unpopularity

by taxes upon litigants and prostitutes. It was the officers of the

prætorian guard who conspired to assassinate him.

Claudius was chosen by the bodyguard who had murdered his predecessor

and he bought their allegiance with £120 apiece. He was the uncle of

Caligula, but no process of adoption had lifted him into the royal

house. Still he was the grandson of Livia and his assumption of the

name “Cæsar” passed without comment. Claudius set Augustus before him

as his model and in all things he was careful to return to republican

precedents. He took the office of censor for the revision of the

senate-roll. He increased the patriciate, encouraged the State religion

and by personal attention improved the administration of justice. The

cause of most of the trouble during the preceding reigns had been the

practice of “delation.” Even under the Republic criminal prosecutions

had been the easiest method of obtaining political notoriety. Tiberius

and Gaius had added the motive of pecuniary gain. Claudius now repealed

the obnoxious laws of treason, punished the laying of information and

forbade slaves to give evidence against their masters. By the repeal

of the treason laws Claudius had almost ceased to be a monarch, and he

was careful to revive the old legislative processes of the republic. On

the other hand, under Claudius the power of the bureaucracy was greatly

increased, and the affairs of the Empire were principally conducted by

the three powerful Greek secretaries.

On the death of Claudius--when the emperors died in their beds poison

was invariably alleged--Nero succeeded almost as a matter of course.

His mother Agrippina had secured his succession by having him raised to

honour just as had been done for Tiberius by Augustus. He had already

been styled “Prince of the Youth,” designated for the consulship and

endowed with the proconsular power. There was, however, a possible

rival in the young Britannicus, and Nero was chosen by the prætorian

guard just as clearly as Claudius. During the first five years, when

the young prince was engaged in enjoying himself under the guidance of

the philosopher Seneca, the senate had nothing to fear, and the Roman

state enjoyed its liberty, but when Tigellinus, the wicked prefect of

the guard, gained his evil ascendancy over the mind of Nero there were

some prosecutions of influential senators which made the whole senate

tremble. Yet, even in these worst days of the worst of emperors, good

administration proceeded. Nero himself made an interesting proposal

for the abolition of customs in the Empire and, indeed, may fairly be

called “The Father of Free Trade.” But the capitalist class succeeded

in suppressing the proposal. The duties on corn were, however, reduced

and the collection of taxes carefully regulated. Charges of extortion

against tax-collectors were given precedence in the law courts, a

measure of justice beyond anything that the modern state has attempted.

It was much more the dancing and singing of the _princeps_ than the

extortions of Tigellinus and the judicial murders of noblemen which

caused the unpopularity which brought Nero to his doom. Among the

many who fell victims to the ferocity of Tigellinus--for Nero himself

was probably harmless enough--were two genuine Republicans of the

old school, men who were genuine believers in the Stoic faith and

who kept the birthdays of Brutus and Cassius as annual feasts. It is

probable that genuine opposition of this sort was far from rare among

the aristocracy of the Empire. Writers like Lucan and Tacitus were

evidently in sympathy with it, and though Thrasea Pætus and Barea

Soranus are famous for the Stoic deaths they died, yet they were only

two out of many who lived wholly on the memory of the Republic.

Nero’s fall was caused directly by the defection of the prætorian

guards, whose allegiance had been bought in the name of Galba. Nero was

the last member of the Julio-Claudian family, and at his death the last

shadow of dynastic claim passed away. The succession of the principate

became a mere scramble in which the strongest or the luckiest or the

heaviest briber won the day. Pretenders sprang up against Galba,

several of the armies put forward their generals as competitors for the

throne; and Galba himself had not even enough generosity to pay the

bribes by which he had secured his throne. Thus the year 69 was a year

of incessant civil war. Galba was murdered in the streets of Rome; Otho

was defeated in battle near Bedriacum and slain in his camp, Vitellius;

the choice of the legions in Germany, reigned from April to December,

when Rome was once more occupied by a citizen army. The legions of

Syria, seeing that their fellow-soldiers of Spain and Germany had

already made their generals into emperors, had determined to take a

hand in the game, and now Vespasian came as the fourth Cæsar in the

space of a single year.

It speaks well for the solidity of the imperial system as organised by

Augustus that it survived the shock of such events as these. It proves

that the system was everything and the man little or nothing.

The new Emperor Vespasian, who succeeded after all this turmoil, was

different from his predecessors in that he had two grown-up sons

ready to succeed him. It is said that Mucianus, a still more powerful

Eastern general, had surrendered his claims because he was childless.

If so, it was nobly and wisely done. Vespasian was able and willing

to restore the machinery of the Augustan principate. He was himself

frankly a humble Sabine with no claims of birth. He was firm but not

oppressive towards the senate, and he kept control over the prætorian

guard by appointing Titus, his son, to its command. He also established

the succession beyond doubt by making Titus his consort. Vespasian and

Titus were elected consuls year by year. Vespasian’s principal work was

to restore the financial credit of the government. Unfortunately the

two sons, Titus, and then Domitian, who followed him upon the throne

and with him make up the “Flavian” dynasty, were scarcely worthy of

their father. Titus was “the darling of the human race,” generous and

mild to the senators, but too fond of his popularity to be a strong

ruler, and Domitian was a genuine tyrant. With his autocratic system of

rule he was naturally oppressive to the aristocracy, and his name is

in consequence written on the pages of history as that of a monster of

cruelty. Domitian certainly made constitutional changes which rendered

the monarchy a more open fact. He took the consulship for ten years to

come, he became censor and drew up the senate-roll to suit his fancy,

he refused the usual request of the senators that the emperor should

admit that he had no power to condemn a senator to death. Also he

openly spurned the proud senators and permitted the servile modes of

address which Augustus and other emperors had forbidden.

These high-handed proceedings made the senators hate and plot against

him. Plots were followed by executions, and Domitian gradually became

more and more tyrannical. More of the Stoic Republican party were

executed, and the odious practice of delation came once more into

vogue. At last there was a successful plot organised in the palace, and

Domitian fell to the dagger.

With the three succeeding emperors, Nerva (96-98), Trajan (98-117), and

Hadrian (117-138), we have a series of genuine constitutional rulers

who show the system of the principate at its best. The excellent figure

which these rulers cut on the page of history is not wholly unconnected

with the fact that we have now passed beyond the region illuminated

by the satire of Tacitus and the tittle-tattle of Suetonius. Their

deeds speak for them. In Nerva we have the senate’s choice of a ruler,

elderly, blameless, but decidedly weak. Had he not died in less than

two years, he could easily have brought the throne of the Cæsars

down to the ground. Knowing his own weakness, Nerva had adopted the

foremost soldier of his day as his heir, and Trajan, beloved of the

soldiers and ready to purchase the love of the Rome rabble, succeeded

without a murmur. He spent most of his reign in the camp. In the camp

he died, and the succession was by no means clear when Hadrian, a

kinsman though a distant one, had the courage to seize and the luck to

hold the imperial power. All these three emperors granted the senate’s

claim that the emperor should not have the power to condemn a senator

to death, and in some aspects the senate seemed to have regained much

of its old independence. But Trajan was too masterful and Hadrian

too ubiquitous to leave any real scope for senatorial initiative. It

was really under these benevolent despots that the Dyarchy ceased

to have any significance. As usual the benevolence of the despot

was the most fatal enemy to liberty. Not only in Rome but even in

the municipalities of Italy politics were ceasing to have any real

meaning, and men of standing had to be coerced into taking part in the

comedy. The bureaucracy of the imperial palace now governed the world,

and the better it governed the more quickly did the life-blood of the

Roman world run dry in its veins. We now find imperial “curators” and

accountants going up and down the provinces to set their finances

in order. Whenever there is trouble in any corner of the earth, an

imperial “corrector” travels down from Rome by the admirable system

of imperial posts to set it right. Where, of old, a local squire,

the patronus of the municipality, would leave a charitable legacy

for the maintenance and education of poor children, the state with

its admirable system of “alimenta” was beginning to assume the

responsibility. The state had its Development Fund which made loans

on mortgage at very low interest, generally 5 but sometimes 2½ per

cent., to small farmers, and the interest was applied to orphanages

and the education of the poor. Nerva has the credit for introducing

this splendid system of public charity and Hadrian developed it. It

was Hadrian also who gave the finishing touches to the organisation

of the civil service as a close bureaucracy entirely divorced from

the military profession. This service was chiefly in the hands of the

knights, and it ranged in a carefully graded hierarchy of officialdom

down from the three principal Secretaries of State, the Finance

Minister, the Chief Secretary, and the Minister of Petitions, down to

the Fiscal Advocates who looked after local revenue. Though the Roman

Empire is often represented as groaning under the weight of taxation,

and no doubt the more extravagant emperors did amass heavy liabilities,

yet Hadrian, who followed an emperor extravagant both in warfare and

building, was able to remit about nine millions sterling of arrears due

to the fisc. He also introduced a system of periodical reassessments

and gave the fullest liberty for his tenants-in-chief to appeal against

the collectors. Hadrian it was, also, who really introduced the system

of installing a junior colleague in the Empire, a plan which Augustus

had foreshadowed in his elevation of Tiberius. This plan produced one

of the firmest dynasties which ever held the imperial throne, namely,

the Antonines, Marcus Aurelius, Titus, Antoninus Pius, and Commodus,

who ruled from Hadrian’s death in 138 to 192. The age of the first two

Antonines is considered by Gibbon and many others to be the culmination

of the Roman imperial system.

Two facts of very great importance stand out from this hasty review of

the principate during its first two centuries. In the first place, it

is still, in the strict constitutional sense, a compromise. The theory

of the constitution had not changed since Augustus, if, indeed, it had

ever changed. It is still a Republic--_Respublica Romana_--governed

by senate, consuls, tribunes, and an intermittent public assembly.

There is, as there nearly always had been, a _princeps_, that is,

leading citizen, a man raised by personal eminence and prestige far

above his colleagues. Certain powers are delegated to him by the

state. Above all he is master of the legions because he has consular

or proconsular authority over all the provinces where troops are

stationed. There still remained certain theoretical limitations to his

power. He could not, for example, impose a tax on Rome or Italy by his

own authority. But the feebleness and sycophancy of the senate and

magistracy made him actually omnipotent. When a certain senator was

pointed out by Cæsar’s freedman as an enemy to Cæsar the doomed man

was set upon by his colleagues and stabbed to death with their pens in

the senate-house. It is true that this sycophancy was not altogether

the fault of the senate. Under the tyrannical emperors like Tiberius,

Nero, and Domitian, emperors who encouraged the “delator,” no senator’s

life was secure. At a frown from Cæsar it was customary to go home

and open one’s veins after writing a complimentary will in which one

bequeathed everything to that best of rulers. This sort of behaviour

led inevitably to the growth of the monarchy. The emperor was the one

person who dared to act, and the more capable and well-intentioned the

ruler, the more closely were the fetters riveted around the necks

of the Roman People. The silent growth of bureaucracy, of which the

historians have little to tell us, but which we can gather from the

inscriptions of the period, is both the symptom and the cause of this

increasing power of the principate.

In the second place, it is important to notice that although the

city of Rome was growing marvellously in riches and splendour, she

was losing her old domination in the world, and becoming the capital

instead of the mistress of the Empire. The magistracies of the city had

almost ceased to have any importance except as inferior grades on the

road to proconsulships. Italy herself was sinking into the position of

one among the provinces of the Empire, and with the growth of Hadrian’s

centralised system of imperial administration even the provinces were

losing their significance as units of government. It seems impossible

that almost the whole of Europe and large parts of Asia and Africa

could ever have been governed by one man or even one bureau. Yet it

was almost achieved by the Roman Empire. The world-state was almost a

fact, and a few more Trajans and Hadrians would have accomplished it.

The city-state idea, as a unit of patriotism, still flourished. But

with the great roads stretching like railways to the four corners of

the earth, and the imperial officers travelling along them, with the

legions massed along the frontiers and men recruited in Spain sent to

serve in Britain, the sense of territory, from which the modern state

was to arise, began to develop itself.

IMPERIAL ROME

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