CHAPTER I

[Illustration:

Caius Julius Cæsar = Aurelia

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+------------------+-----+

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Julius Cæsar Julia = Atius Balbus

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Atia = Octavius

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+----------------------+---+

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Scribonia = Octavian AUGUSTUS = Livia Octavia = Mark Antony

1st wife | 2d wife, divorced |

| from T.Cl. Nero |

| | +--------+

| +-------+-----------+ |

| | | |

| Vipsania = TIBERIUS = Julia Drusus I = Antonia

+----+ 1st wife 2d wife |

| |

Marcellus = Julia = Agrippa |

1st Husband | 2d Husband |

TIBERIUS | |

3d Husband | +------+--------------------+-----+

| | | |

+------------+ | Lavilla Messalina = CLAUDIUS = Agrippina II

| | 5th wife 6th wife

| |

Agrippina I = Germanicus

|

+---+----------+

| |

Caius CALIGULA Agrippina II = Cnæus Domitius

|

|

Lucius Domitius NERO

THE JULIAN FAMILY

Showing the relationship of the Five Emperors

AUGUSTUS,--the son of Julius Cæsar’s niece,--was the first Emperor.

He was succeeded by his stepson, TIBERIUS; Tiberius by his brother’s

grandson, CALIGULA; Caligula by his uncle, CLAUDIUS; and Claudius by

his brother’s grandson,--who was also his own stepson,--NERO.]

UNDER CÆSARS’ SHADOW

[Illustration]

[Illustration: AUGUSTUS AS EMPEROR

_Frontispiece_]

UNDER CÆSARS’

SHADOW

BY

HENRY FRANCIS COLBY, D.D.

_Illustrated_

[Illustration]

THE NEALE PUBLISHING COMPANY

440 FOURTH AVENUE, NEW YORK

MCMXVIII

Copyright, 1918, by

THE NEALE PUBLISHING COMPANY

TABLE OF CONTENTS

PAGE

PREFACE 9

CHAPTER

I CÆSAR AUGUSTUS 11

II TIBERIUS: THE CÆSAR OF CHRIST’S MINISTRY 49

III CALIGULA, THE MADCAP 71

IV CLAUDIUS, THE STOLID 83

V NERO, THE CRUEL 102

POSTSCRIPT 135

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

THE JULIAN FAMILY _Facing Half-Title_

AUGUSTUS AS EMPEROR _Frontispiece_

_Facing page_

JULIUS CÆSAR 11

MARK ANTONY 16

CICERO 24

ALTAR OF PEACE 37

THE CRYPTOPORTICUS 39

TIBERIUS 49

DRUSUS 54

CALIGULA 71

CLAUDIUS 83

CLAUDIAN AQUEDUCT 90

NERO 102

AGRIPPINA II AND NERO 112

POPPÆA 115

SENECA 121

NOMENTANA BRIDGE 129

PREFACE

Like ruler, like people! Kings and emperors are conspicuous specimens

of the character of their times. They are centers around which revolve

the prevailing tastes and passions of men. They also influence and

control the minds of their subjects. If we would know the spirit of any

period of history, we need only to fix our gaze upon the individuals in

power at that time.

If we would ascertain, therefore, what sort of a world it was into

which Jesus Christ came; how impossible it was that He should be its

natural and merely human product; against what a dark background of

selfishness and tyranny, immorality, and vice His heavenly purity and

self-sacrificing love shone forth; what cynical materialism and infidel

philosophy, what coarse stolidity and bitter malice He had to meet, and

what hindrances and persecutions His cause, in the persons of His early

followers, had to contend with, we cannot do better than to study the

lives of the Roman emperors of the first century. This is the reason

for presenting here some sketches of the careers of Augustus, Tiberius,

Caligula, Claudius, and Nero, and for asking what relics can still be

found of their times and of their work. To contemplate some material

object that they respectively touched or planned or builded,--some

hoary ruin or crumbling fragment of temple, palace, aqueduct, or

sepulcher,--seems to bring us into closer relation with them and

to make more real to us those great dramatic figures, which would

otherwise be but dim shadows of the past.

* * * * *

The illustrations in this volume are taken from photographs by

Anderson, the unsurpassed photographer so well known in Rome.

H. F. C.

[Illustration: JULIUS CÆSAR]

UNDER CÆSARS’ SHADOW

CHAPTER I

CÆSAR AUGUSTUS

We read in the second chapter of Luke’s Gospel that “it came to pass

in those days that there went out a decree from Cæsar Augustus that

all the world should be enrolled.” The common version of the New

Testament says, “taxed.” But the revised version, following more

closely the original Greek, says, “enrolled.” It was what we call at

the present day a registration, made in order that none should escape

the subsequent taxation.

The sacred narrative continues. “All went to enroll themselves, every

one to his own city.” Dr. James Stalker remarks:

“This does not seem a very thrilling fact with which to begin

the Christmas story; it seems, even, prosaic. But when the stern

emperor’s edict went forth there was one young woman’s heart which

thrilled with the keenest dread. That was the heart of Mary of

Nazareth, called of God to be the mother of our Lord Jesus Christ.

It meant for her a long hard journey of eighty miles, in the winter

season, over the mountains and along the roughest paths; it meant

that she must suffer pain and privation when she was frail in body

and anxious in mind, and all because she could not escape going to

Bethlehem to be enrolled. For she and her husband Joseph were both

direct descendants of Israel’s best-beloved King, David, and must

obey the law requiring people to go back to the city from which

their family had first come and be enrolled and taxed there. So

there was nothing for her but to set out on the difficult journey,

this sweet and gentle maiden with her crown of supreme honor from

God and her burden of human anxiety and pain.”

We can imagine one subject of the conversation between her and Joseph

on the way. Their poverty and obscurity had hidden from public notice

the fact of their lineage, so direct from David. But all the Jews

were wont to preserve with great care everything pertaining to their

genealogies, and it was especially the case with those whose certainty

of Davidic descent gave them ground for hoping that the Messiah would

appear in their own line. We may believe that Joseph took with him

a copy of the official family records, those that Matthew and Luke

have preserved for us, and that he pleased himself and Mary along

the toilsome way with the thought that now their specially honorable

descent would have to be in some measure publicly recognized. Cæsar

Augustus himself had not so good a patent of nobility as had they.

Although the dark shadow of that monarch was about to fall, by reason

of this decree for enrollment, across the very beginning of the holy

Child’s life, they were afterward to realize that God’s providence

had been leading them and had caused human government to become an

involuntary agent for bringing about the fulfillment of the prophecy

that the Messiah should be born in Bethlehem.

Now who was this Cæsar Augustus, that is assumed to have had so great

authority in the whole world that at his bidding a registration had to

be taken in every part of it? He was no less than the first sole master

of Rome’s united empire, one of the most conspicuous figures in the

history of the human race.

He had ascended the throne as the climax of a series of very startling

and tragic events. Julius Cæsar,--that man so wonderful alike for

military genius, political sagacity, and literary skill, to whom first

the Roman Senate gave the imposing title of _Imperator_, and who, if

he had lived longer, would probably have become all that this title

later grew to mean,--had been assassinated by a group of conspirators

at Rome in the year 44 before the beginning of the Christian era. These

assassins claimed that they were doing a great service to the state

by delivering it from the schemes of so ambitious a man; but none can

deny that jealousy was among the motives that impelled them to commit

the bloody deed, which took place in the building in the Campus Martius

where the Senate that year convened, adjoining the Theater of Pompey,

and we are told that it was at the feet of great Pompey’s statue that

Cæsar fell. Mark Antony, who had been his colleague in the consulship

and in the control of the army, dramatically pronounced a funeral

oration after Cæsar’s death from the _rostra_ in the Forum and then

endeavored to make himself the successor to Cæsar’s remarkable power

and popularity.

But just then a new and strong competitor for the military and

political leadership appeared in the person of a young man only

nineteen years of age, who is the subject of this sketch.

The name of this young man was at that time Caius Octavius. He was the

son of a Roman noble of the same name and of his wife Atia,--who was

a niece of Julius Cæsar. They lived in a modest home on the Palatine

Hill. Caius Octavius was also Julius Cæsar’s adopted son, and had been

chiefly educated under his provision and direction. Moreover, Cæsar had

designated him as his heir.

Caius Octavius proposed, therefore, now to become the great dictator’s

successor and avenger. He assumed the longer name, Caius Julius Cæsar

Octavianus, and artfully secured,--first of all,--a pledge from a large

part of the army to support and obey him. He found a great helper to

his ambitions in the most distinguished statesman of that day, Marcus

Vipsanius Agrippa. Marcus Tullius Cicero also welcomed Octavianus to

Rome, especially as he saw in this young aspirant a rival to Mark

Antony, whom Cicero intensely hated. Indeed, that famous orator made

exciting speeches against Mark Antony, which greatly impaired the

influence of that commander.

Soon there was civil war. Octavian, as we may now call him, was on one

side, Mark Antony on the other. In two battles the latter was defeated.

He barely escaped with his life; and so Octavian now attained unto the

superior authority, imposing his will upon the government and securing

his proclamation as consul on the 22d of September, forty-three years

before Christ.

Having reached this stage of success, Octavian began to plan the

securing of the humiliation of Brutus and Cassius, who had taken part

in the assassination of Julius Cæsar, and who, with their comrades,

called themselves “liberators,” in view of their opposition to the

concentration of power in one man. To rid himself of annoyance by

them, Octavian needed all the help he could get. He now, therefore,

took a most amazing step and one that betrayed his utter lack (at that

time) of moral principle. He changed his attitude toward Mark Antony,

conciliated his friendship, and actually succeeded in forming an

agreement with him and with another ambitious competitor named Lepidus,

who had also been a prominent military officer.

These three met together for three days on a small island in the river

Rhenus, and there agreed to be a “triumvirate,” as they called it,

for the reconstitution of the commonwealth. This triumvirate, which

was to last for five years, was a most high-handed conspiracy,--an

insult to the dignity of the Roman senate, a violation of many

previous professions and alliances, and a tyranny over the rights of

private citizens. Three hundred senators and two thousand knights were

arbitrarily proscribed by the three usurpers of power. The estates of

these victims were plundered and many of them were hunted to their

deaths.

Each one of the triumvirate in this arrangement sacrificed some one of

his friends to please the others. Thus, Octavian himself outraged all

feelings of honor and justice by allowing Marcus Tullius Cicero, whose

influence and advocacy had done great things in his behalf, to be put

to death. This was a concession to Mark Antony,--or rather, to Mark

Antony’s wife Fulvia, who, it is said, had cherished a bitter grudge

against Cicero and now triumphantly and dramatically thrust a needle

into the once eloquent tongue of the murdered man, when his bleeding

head was exposed to view in the Forum. It was a horrible satisfaction

of cruel spite!

The combined forces of Octavian and Antony soon met those of Brutus

and Cassius in the famous battle of Philippi in Macedonia, a city far

away from Rome, but made more memorable later by the imprisonment and

deliverance there of the Christian missionaries Paul and Silas. As the

result of their humiliating defeat in that battle, both Brutus and

Cassius committed suicide. This was in November, forty-two years before

Christ.

[Illustration: MARK ANTONY]

Octavian returned to Italy to receive great honors at Rome, and Mark

Antony remained to be the ostentatious ruler of the East. But the

latter soon became infatuated with the notorious Cleopatra, the

queen of Egypt.

This woman played a large part in the case. She had come to Mark

Antony at Tarsus in Cilicia to win him back from the wrath he had

manifested because she had not sent aid to him and Octavian in their

war against Brutus and Cassius. She made her appearance before him in

the most sensational manner. In the summer of the year 41 B. C. she

sailed up the river Cydnus in Asia Minor, on which the city of Tarsus,

the capital of Cilicia, was situated. She was reclining upon a gilded

couch, under a stately canopy, upon the deck of her galley, which was

propelled by silver oars and purple sails. She was personating the

goddess Venus, attended by the Graces and fanned by Cupids. Pipes and

lutes discoursed delightful music and the air was perfumed with sweet

odors. The Apostle Paul, when he was a youth at Tarsus, doubtless

heard related this strange incident that had taken place in his native

city two generations before his time. Mark Antony disgracefully

became Cleopatra’s complete slave and, carried away by her insidious

allurements, he yielded to her capricious dictation in many atrocious

acts of oppression and cruelty.

There followed a period of disagreement and bloody conflict between

Octavian and Mark Antony. It was connected with the appropriation of

private lands in Italy in order to reward Octavian’s soldiers. The

principal event in that short civil war was the siege and capture of

the strong hill-town of Perusia (the modern Perugia), where an old

Roman gateway still bears the name of the Arch of Augustus. I strayed

out of that gate, I remember, on my visit to Perugia and looked up

at the massive stones that frowned upon the modern intruder. At the

period of history of which we are speaking Mark Antony was still in the

East, but his brother, Lucius Antonius, leading an army in his behalf,

occupied this famous old hill-town. Octavian encamped around it, and

finally subdued it by siege and famine. It was only saved from plunder

by his soldiers, after his capture of it, because it was set on fire by

one of its own citizens, although many of these were put to death by

the relentless victor.

In order to offset the injury to his prospects caused by this defeat

of his brother and to carry out plots which he had been making with

his allies in Italy, Mark Antony crossed the Mediterranean sea

from the East, invaded Italy, and expected to fight with Octavian.

But these plans were frustrated, because his soldiers and those of

Octavian, having fought together at Philippi, were not enthusiastic

for any such engagement with each other. Negotiations followed. A new

treaty was made at Brundusium on the Adriatic coast. A new division

of the world was mapped out between the two leaders, and the treaty

was supposed to be confirmed by a notable marriage that then took

place. This was between Mark Antony, whose wife Fulvia had died,

and Octavia, the sister of Octavian. It was celebrated with great

pomp and joy. Fond hopes were entertained on the occasion for an era

of great peace and prosperity. The poet Virgil is thought to have

celebrated this treaty of Brundusium in his famous Fourth Eclogue.

In glowing language,--reminding us of the metaphors, if not of the

spirit of Old Testament Messianic predictions,--he speaks of the

birth of a predestined boy who should inaugurate a reign of peace and

blessedness on earth. Exactly what boy he meant has been a subject

of much discussion. Some Christians of the Middle Ages in their zeal

claimed that he meant Jesus, the Christ; and, as he refers to the Sibyl

of Cumæ as having foretold the happy period, her name, in a later age,

was curiously coupled in the old Latin hymn “Dies Iræ” with that of the

psalmist David as giving her prophetic testimony:

Teste David cum Sibylla.[1]

[1] As David and the Sibyl say.

And so, Raphael and Michaelangelo both depicted her as a prophetess

in their Christian frescoes, now to be seen in Rome. There were so

many Jews in Rome in Virgil’s time that he may have read the prophecy

of Isaiah and may have caught something of his imagery; but it is

not probable that in his lines he expresses anything more than an

optimistic pagan’s general hope of a glorious prince and a brighter

day.

After the festivities of his marriage with Octavia, Antony went back to

his eastern domain, with larger projects and many promises. But it was

not long before his profligate tastes again manifested themselves. Not

even the thought of the noble character of his new wife, Octavia, could

restrain him. He went on from one great folly to another. Although

he came back once to southern Italy and renewed with Octavian, at

Tarentum, the terms of “the triumvirate” for another five years, it was

all in vain. The wily Cleopatra had again established her influence

over him. Finally, at her instigation, he placed himself at the head

of an oriental fleet and army and prepared to meet the forces of

Octavian. The decisive battle between them was fought on the sea at

Actium, northwest of Greece, on the 2d of September, B. C. 41. Antony

was completely routed. He narrowly made his escape on the galley of

Cleopatra, which opportunely appeared upon the scene for his rescue.

Almost immediately, in the Egyptian city of Alexandria, both he and his

infamous enchantress perished tragically by suicide.

Thus Octavian became the sole master of practically the whole world.

Great success had been achieved by his army over the Parthians in the

far East. Herod the Great, an Idumæan, was confirmed about this time in

his authority as King of Judea.

Jerusalem had been captured by the Roman general Pompey, in 63 B. C.,

and Judea had then become a part of the Roman province of Syria. The

Roman control of it had, however, been intermitted until this time,

when Herod entered it and reigned triumphantly. Several other important

cities were also added to his domain. But it was only as a subject

of Rome that he had this power. He was supported in his authority by

the army of Octavian, and was expected to obey every beck and motion

made to him by that emperor. His administration of the affairs of that

country was vigorous and splendid, though it was characterized by

revolting cruelties. It is interesting in this connection to remember

how in early Old Testament days Esau had sold his birthright to Jacob,

who henceforth supplanted him. There had often, since that day, been

enmity between the children of Esau and the children of Jacob. Now,

for a time, this prince from Edom, a descendant of Esau, sat upon the

throne of Judea and reigned over the posterity of Jacob, albeit he was

overshadowed and controlled, as we have seen, by Octavian--a mightier

potentate than himself.

It was when Herod was king at Jerusalem in this way,--fawning

upon the favor of Octavian and fearing to incur that monarch’s

displeasure,--that Jesus Christ was born in Bethlehem.

The Messiah, whom prophets had foretold and whom the Jews were longing

for, made His advent in the humblest way. The Prince of Peace came

as a little child into a world of awful selfishness and cruelty

and conflict. Herod must have died not long after that event. The

sufferings of his final illness are thought to have exasperated his

anxiety and cruelty and perhaps were among the causes which led to his

ordering the slaughter, as described by Matthew, of the few young male

infants in the village of Bethlehem, the number not being large enough

to make the Jewish historian Josephus record the incident alongside

of Herod’s other and more extensive iniquities. While that ruler

alienated the affections of the Jews, yet he professed to be a Jew in

religion and, with scrupulous care, rebuilt the temple at Jerusalem,

which temple continued to stand during the ministry of Jesus and of

the Apostles. After the death of Herod there was made among his sons

a distribution of the provinces of Palestine by the emperor Octavian.

It was because of fear of one of these sons, Archelaus, who ruled

in Judea, that Joseph and Mary, returning with the young child from

Egypt, did not go to Bethlehem, but turned aside and went to Nazareth

in Galilee. Sextus, the son of Pompey, who had commanded a piratical

fleet on the Mediterranean, intercepting ships bound from Alexandria

to Italy, was conquered by the forces of Octavian and was slain. The

reputed son of Julius Cæsar and Cleopatra, Cæsarion by name, was also

put to death.

Octavian was now made _Imperator_, and Censor of the Empire for life.

This does not mean that all of the forms of a republic were at once

destroyed, but that the government was administered in the spirit of

an absolute monarchy.

Octavian retained the family name of Cæsar, which was also assumed by

his successors, as an official designation, even when they belonged to

other lines of descent; just as are the modern titles of “Kaiser” in

Germany and “Czar” in Russia, which are, indeed, derived from the Roman

name.

Octavian was a man of great ambition and had overcome the violence

and perfidy of others by often using their own methods. He was

reserved in speech and bearing, and was somewhat simple in his manner

of living. He had a large degree of coolness and self-control. He

was shrewd, politic, and far-seeing in adapting means to his ends.

He gathered all the lines of power into his hands almost before the

people realized that he was doing it. We are told that he had under

his direct management “the disposal of revenues, the movements of the

army, the execution of the laws, the administration of internal reforms

and the adjustment of foreign relations.” First the senators then the

plebians yielded to him many of their long-cherished rights. Under his

management the famed Republic became an empire; and he was the emperor

indeed. His dominions extended from the Atlantic to Arabia and from the

islands of Britain to the sands of Africa.

[Illustration: CICERO]

While Rome had been conquering the world she had been losing her

liberties at home. Nothing had really been left of liberty except its

name. But it must be admitted that, intense and stern as Octavian was

in grasping after power, he showed wise moderation in its exercise. He

reconciled the people to the loss of their freedom by securing to them

greater material prosperity and many exciting amusements. He expended

great sums on public roads and splendid buildings, sewers, reservoirs,

bridges, quays, parks, gardens, and public offices in great profusion.

Many of his associates followed his example and erected costly

edifices, ornamented with columns and statues in marble and bronze. It

was his boast that he had found Rome built of brick and would leave it

made of marble. He patronized the arts and the sciences. He gathered

around him men of brilliant talents,--statesmen, orators, philosophers,

historians, painters, sculptors and poets. Vipsanius Agrippa, his prime

minister, Mæcenas, Cicero, Livy, Virgil, Horace, and Ovid, besides many

lesser lights, distinguished his reign and adorned his court. What the

age of Pericles was to Greece and that of Elizabeth was to England

the reign of this man was to the Roman empire. In religion he was not

much more than a stoic philosopher, but he recognized the value of a

religious faith among the people and so was glad to encourage them in

the maintenance of pagan altars and temples, many of which he built.

It is said that in the year 28 B. C. not less than eighty-two temples

were rebuilt in Rome itself. He erected and restored the temple

of Apollo upon the Palatine, and near it he established a splendid

library. The Senate decreed that he should have the then unique title

of AUGUSTUS,--THE AUGUST ONE. It was a title that Octavian’s successors

tried to retain, but it has become his own special and superb

designation in the pages of history, so that we now often forget that

it was really only an adjective and not his proper name. The eighth

month in the year was called August, in his honor, just as the seventh

month had been called July, in honor of Julius Cæsar.

Augustus, as we must now call him, was the Cæsar for whom was named

the city of Cæsarea, which Herod the Great built on the seacoast of

Palestine, to be the political capital of that country, and which the

book of the Acts has led us to associate later with the centurion

Cornelius, in whose house the Apostle Peter preached. It was the home

city of the Evangelist Philip and his four daughters (Acts xxi:8, 9)

and the scene of Paul’s great speeches before the Roman governors,

Felix and his wife Drusilla, Festus, and King Agrippa II, and his

sister, Bernice. (Acts xxiv:24; xxv:13.) Herod, as another act of

obsequious flattery, also built a marble temple to Augustus at Paneas,

at one of the sources of the Jordan, near the base of Mount Hermon, at

the place that his son Herod Philip II, the tetrarch, afterward rebuilt

and called,--from the emperor and himself,--Cæsarea Philippi, whither

Jesus Christ once came during his ministry, the most northern point he

ever visited, and held one of the most significant conversations with

his disciples.

My memory recalls with great pleasure the day when a little group of

tourists in Palestine (one of which I had the privilege of being),

there pitched after a weary day’s journey their white tents, amid

desolation and fragmentary ruins, and gazed upon the spring waters

rushing, fresh and cold, from the venerated cave under the hill. Around

this cave some architectural niches for statues are cut into the

natural rock, but the statues have long since disappeared. Its original

name of Paneas, derived from the rustic god Pan, is now corrupted into

Baneas. A massive castle of the crusaders frowns down from a great

height, but in the valley only wrecks of man’s ambitious structures

make a pathetic contrast with the beauties of nature. It was in that

region, probably, on one of the foothills of Mount Hermon, that the

Transfiguration took place.

If we turn to consider the family life of the Emperor Augustus, we

learn that after one or two betrothals in his early youth, which

engagements were not followed up, he married a lady of high rank

named Scribonia, by whom he had one child, a daughter, named Julia.

Afterward, when he was known as Octavian, and was one of the triumvirs,

he either fell desperately in love with another man’s wife or he was

swayed by his intense ambition at the time to ally himself with the

aristocratic families of Rome. At any rate, he divorced Scribonia

and carried off as his wife Livia Drusilla, who was the wife of a

prominent citizen, Tiberius Claudius Nero. By him Livia had one son,

who afterward became the Emperor Tiberius. She was soon to be the

mother of another, the celebrated general Drusus. So far was Tiberius

Claudius Nero from resisting her divorce from him to marry Augustus,

that, it is said, he gave her a dowry and was present at the wedding.

Some historians, indeed, think that it was in accordance with his own

plans. He was old and infirm. His wife was only nineteen and he may

have been glad to provide for her marriage, possibly, with the young

and rising triumvir, and thus conciliate him to a better treatment of

the aristocratic party.

However this may have been, it illustrates the loose Roman views of

marriage in that day. It put Livia in a strange and trying position.

Her own father had been among those aristocrats whom the triumvirs

had proscribed and hunted. He had fought with Brutus and Cassius and

had died by his own hand after being defeated with them by the army

of Augustus at the battle of Philippi. Two years before this marriage

Livia had fled from Italy with her husband, Tiberius Claudius Nero, to

escape the vengeance of Octavian. Now she leaves the former to become

the wife of the latter. She had to turn away for a time from her own

son Tiberius and, three months later, when her child Drusus was born

in the home of Augustus, this second son was sent to the house of his

father, Tiberius Claudius Nero.

Serene and practical, Livia seems to have accepted the fate assigned

her and endured all the sacrifices it involved. A few years later,

however, when Tiberius Claudius Nero died, he appointed Octavian,--who

had then become the Emperor Augustus,--the guardian of his sons, and

Livia received them back and cared for them with a mother’s devoted

solicitude. She seems truly to have won the admiration if not the

affection of Augustus. He was proud of her ability, her faithfulness,

her household thrift, her wise counsel in the affairs of state. They

lived simply in their house upon the Palatine. It was devoid either

of magnificent display or precious objects of art. The furniture was

exhibited in the second century of our era and was wondered at for its

plainness. She superintended personally the treatment of the wool, its

distribution among the slaves, and its weaving for family use. Augustus

never wore any togas that were otherwise made. Their several villas at

Lanuvium, Palestrina, and Tivoli were all unpretentious. They sometimes

entertained prominent people at dinner, but only on extraordinary

occasions were there six courses served,--usually there being but three.

On one public occasion Augustus made a long speech in which he cited

Livia as a model for the ladies of Rome. He set forth minutely the

details of her household management,--what she did, how she dressed,

at what expense, how she amused herself, and what amusements she

deemed suitable for a person of her position. The Romans regarded her

as the perfect type of an aristocratic lady. She seems to have been

dignified and handsome in person, and thoughtful in spirit. Her two

sons,--Tiberius and Drusus, the stepsons of Augustus,--were also very

popular. Notwithstanding the outrageous wrong of her compelled divorce

from her former husband, many annoyances from her stepdaughter Julia,

and the temptations of a royal court, she maintained a strong and

self-controlled character, and, during a married life of fifty years,

kept to the last the affection of her husband. It is reported that he

said to her at last, as he lay upon his death-bed:

“Preserve the memory of a husband who has loved you very tenderly.”

When asked at one time how she contrived to retain his affection, Dion

Cassius tells us that she significantly replied:

“My secret is very simple: I have made it the study of my life to

please him, and I have never manifested any indiscreet curiosity with

regard to his public or private affairs.”

In all the life of the imperial court, not only in the reign of

Augustus but, as we shall see, in that of her son Tiberius, the able

and tactful management of this commanding lady was an important factor.

But, aside from his regard for Livia and in spite of all his wealth and

power and the flattery of his subjects, Augustus was far from happy.

He had been bereaved by death of many of those whom he esteemed and

loved, such as Drusus, Caius and Lucius Cæsar. He was often the victim

of mortification, sorrow and moroseness. His daughter, Julia, disgraced

him by her immoral conduct. There was always incompatibility between

her and Livia. His grandsons died soon after. He did not take much

delight in the thought of his stepson, Tiberius, as his successor, and

the marriage of Julia to Tiberius did not improve the situation. But

the jealousies and intrigues of his court made for him constant trouble.

In his last days he made a generous will, distributing thereby gifts

to many of those who had served him, including huge donations to the

soldiers, to the public treasury, and to the populace. He also compiled

a list of achievements by which the empire had been benefited under

his reign and for which he had received public honors. This memorial

he intended to be cast in bronze for the doors of the great mausoleum

that he had built in Rome for his burial place. We are indebted for its

preservation, however, to the Galatians, who, inhabiting a province

in the heart of Asia Minor, had erected during the life of Augustus a

temple in his honor at their city of Ancyra, the modern Angora. They

obtained a copy of the memorial and inscribed it upon the walls of the

vestibule of this temple; and there, though greatly marred and broken,

it can be read even at the present day,--a fine record of the great

monarch’s deeds.

It was the propensity of Augustus to use the vast riches at his

disposal for the benefit of the people. Sometimes he distributed freely

corn, wine, and oil and sometimes allowances in money. He asserted that

he spent in gifts what was equivalent to the sum of twenty-six millions

of dollars (American money). To these many other donations must be

added; so that it has been reckoned that his expenditure for the

benefit of the people amounted to ninety-one millions of dollars. Says

Lanciani:

“Were we not in the presence of official statistics and of state

documents, we should hardly feel inclined to believe these enormous

statements.”

Augustus died at Nola in Campania, Italy, August 19, A. D. 14, when

he was nearly seventy-six years of age. Before he died he had a long

conversation with his stepson Tiberius. On the day of his death, when

some friends entered his room, he said to them:

“Do you think that I have acted my part well on the stage of life? If

you are satisfied, give me your applause!”

Soon after, he expired in the arms of his wife Livia.

“His body,” it is said, “was transported from village to village, from

city to city, along the Appian Way by the members of each municipal

council in turn. To avoid the heat, the procession marched only at

night. At the foot of the Alban Hills the whole Roman knighthood had

come out to meet the bearers. Thence, over the last ten miles of the

road, the progress was like a triumphal one, till the bier was placed

in the vestibule of the Palace on the Palatine Hill. Afterwards the

body was carried to the Forum, to the space in front of the Temple of

Julius Cæsar, where from the rostra a panegyric was read by Tiberius.

Another oration was delivered at the opposite end of the Forum by

Drusus, the adopted son of Tiberius. Thence the senators, the high

priests, the knights, the army and a large part of the leading citizens

continued the march by the Via Flaminia to the Ustrinum, or enclosure

for cremation. Officers and men threw on the pyre the decorations which

Augustus had awarded them for bravery, and the torch was applied by the

captains of the legions which he had often led to victory.”

Five days afterward Livia and the chief men of the Equestrian order

gathered up his ashes and bore them to the Mausoleum.

During the lifetime of Augustus he had been venerated as a god in the

provinces; now he was actually worshiped in Rome itself. Adoration was

paid to him in many private homes. He also had a cult, sanctuaries, and

a priesthood assigned to him. Livia became the special priestess of the

new divinity.

There have come down to us, in a remarkable state of preservation, many

statues, medallions, busts, and coins, which have kept for us his face,

his form, and his bearing. In the Hall of Busts in the Vatican Museum

we have that beautiful head which was found at Ostia, at the mouth

of the Tiber, in 1808.[2] It is admired by all, and is always spoken

of as “the Young Augustus.” It represents the future emperor with a

prominent nose, an intellectual forehead, wavy hair, a rounded chin,

and an expression both thoughtful and amiable. What was he thinking

of when the sculptor caught his expression? Had he premonitions of

the successes and responsibilities before him? Our knowledge of his

subsequent career illuminates for us his marble features. They have

an attractive ideality, which we can hardly associate with one who

afterward became such a stern warrior; and we are drawn to him for the

moment with tender sympathy and exalted hopes.

[2] _See_ Frontispiece.

Without stopping to describe other figures of him, it is interesting

to contrast this one with that splendid full-length marble statue,

also in the Vatican, which was not discovered until 1863. It was

found buried in the ruins of the villa of his wife, Livia, seven

miles from Rome. This also bears every mark of being a portrait from

life. How impressive that it has been hidden in the earth for so many

centuries, during which many kingdoms have risen and fallen; and now

it has been brought forth, almost like a resurrection, and we can

stand, as it were, face to face with him! It shows him to us in all

his majesty, late in his career, when he had become the grand master

of the world. He stands in a calm and commanding attitude, bearing

his weight on his right foot, wearing his military breastplate, with

drapery carefully arranged around his hips and thrown over his left

arm. His left hand carries a scepter, while his right is extended as

if he were deliberately addressing his army. The countenance bears the

stamp of much experience and of deep seriousness, if not of anxiety.

He seems to be oppressed by the weight of empire. On his breastplate

or cuirass, which appears to be copied from the metallic original worn

by him, are seen Greek designs, which have been compared with cameos

for the beauty and delicacy of their detail. The central group of these

embossed figures represents a Roman general receiving some military

standards from a conquered foe. It is very probably commemorative of

the victory won by the Roman army over the Parthians about 17 B. C.,

when Augustus had deputed his stepson Tiberius to carry on the campaign

and afterward to secure in a formal manner from Phraates, the king of

the Parthians, those bronze eagles that the Parthians had taken away

from the Roman general Crassus and his soldiers more than thirty years

before. That defeat had been a bitter recollection to the Romans ever

since it occurred, and the restoration of the standards was a matter of

corresponding rejoicing. They were sent to Rome, where they were placed

by Augustus in the Temple of Mars Ultor. It seems probable that this

statue was carved soon after that time, about 17 B. C. On the two sides

of the representation, bent over in sorrow, sit two symbolical figures,

the probable genii of two conquered nations. Near the neck of the

cuirass appears the god Cælus emerging from the clouds, holding a scarf

blown by the wind and arching above his head, while before him Apollo

riding in his chariot reminds us of the figures of Guido’s famous

fresco of Aurora on the ceiling of the Rospigliosi Casino in Rome.[3]

No figure could better personify the conscious gravity of universal

lordship than does this stately statue of Augustus. When first

discovered some portions of it bore traces of coloring. A little cherub

riding upon a dolphin is placed against the right foot, supporting the

work and, by contrast, setting forth its dignity.

[3] It seems at first thought that Guido must have gotten the

suggestion for his group from these figures on the cuirass

of Augustus. But how could he? During Guido’s life this

statue was unknown and lay buried in the ground.

I have spoken of the great buildings erected in the time of Augustus.

Notwithstanding the fact that the medieval Romans made the ancient

ruins of their city such a quarry for building material out of which

to construct their palaces, some evidences of this emperor’s noble

edifices still exist. The Regia, or Royal House (of which now only a

few traces are found), in the Forum, had been the residence of the

rulers of the early Roman kingdom and afterward of the leaders of the

Republic; but, as Augustus had been born upon the Palatine and as that

historic hill afforded a much more spacious and commanding site, the

people,--when they made Augustus Imperator twenty-eight years before

Christ,--there erected for him a splendid palace. Foundations of this

building, which are probably not yet fully excavated, are still to be

seen.

The beautiful mosaic pavements and frescoed walls of some of the

chambers of the house of Livia his wife can also be visited on the

Palatine Hill. This is the only building of its kind in the midst of

the ruined palaces of the emperors. Livia had received it from her

first husband, the father of Tiberius, and to it she retired after the

death of her second husband, Augustus. A flight of six steps descends

to the marble floor, which is laid out in patterns. From this three

chambers can be entered. The paintings upon the plastered walls of

the dining-room and sitting-room are very artistic in design and

coloring. They are among the most ancient paintings in existence. They

represent mythological scenes and characters,--Mercury, Polyphemus,

and Galatea, with fruits, flowers, masks, and sacrificial offerings.

Some of the tints are still bright, and suggest a homelike warmth. The

triclinium or dining-room is recognizable by an inscription.

[Illustration: ALTAR OF PEACE]

Near the Tiber we have the five columns and other parts of the Portico

of Octavia, which was erected by Augustus and dedicated to his sister

Octavia. In the days of the republic, porticoes or open colonnaded

buildings for public resorts had been almost a rarity; but Augustus

introduced a fashion and taste for them. In less than twenty years the

Campus Martius (now covered by modern Rome) is said to have been full

of them. They added much to the architectural splendor of the city. The

Portico of Octavia is said to have had three hundred columns, enclosing

a court with temples to Jupiter and Juno.

The massive architecture of what is left of the Theatre of Marcellus,

in the same region, reminds us of Octavia’s son, to whose memory

Augustus dedicated it. Twelve arches of the outer circular wall are now

used as blacksmiths’ and other shops. The lower story is partly sunk in

the earth. Its columns are much battered. Its arches and capitals are

also badly bruised. In the eleventh century it was used as a fortress.

Afterward a palace was built on the mound of rubbish within it. The

historian Niebuhr, when he was the Russian ambassador, occupied it as

his home.

The temple of Mars Ultor (Avenger) is another of the buildings of

Augustus. Before the battle of Philippi, which was such an important

turning-point in his career, he made a vow that should he be victorious

he would build a temple to Mars the Avenger, because the assassination

of his foster-father Julius Cæsar would be avenged by such a victory

over Brutus and Cassius on that occasion. With the fulfillment of this

vow he combined the construction of a new Forum, or public exchange,

for Rome.

These noble edifices were sometimes in later centuries degraded to

very commonplace uses. The Portico of Octavia, for example, was

for many generations and until lately used as a fish market. The

buildings mentioned were all large and costly constructions. As

Augustus deposited in the Temple of Mars Ultor the rescued standards

of Crassus, so for several generations victorious generals stored away

their insignia in the same place. One of its features was a gallery

of statues of the military heroes whose victories had enlarged the

territory and glory of the empire. The costly pavement of the Forum now

lies twenty feet below the present level of the ground. It requires

an effort of the imagination to reconstruct the ancient scene from

the old, soiled fragments. Yet it can be done by the student of all

the surroundings; and future excavations will reveal much more. For a

people among whom the army and war were so important, the Temple of

Mars was a center of the greatest interest. Its beauty is described

as of the highest sort. Augustus says in his will that the Roman

citizens who fought under his orders numbered five hundred thousand.

At the time of his death one hundred and sixty thousand Roman citizens

were still serving under the flag. The number of men-of-war captured,

burnt or sunk is stated at six hundred.

[Illustration: THE CRYPTOPORTICUS]

But Augustus honored peace no less than war. He thrice took the census

of Rome, showing an increase of the inhabitants from four millions

sixty-three thousand to nearly five millions. In the inscriptions,

already referred to as existing in the ruins of the temple of Angora in

Asia Minor, he tells us that in the year 13 B. C. the Senate ordered

an altar to be built in the Campus Martius to the divinity Pax Augusta

(Augustan Peace), upon which magistrates, priests, and vestal virgins

might offer a yearly sacrifice. In after ages this altar became covered

with rubbish and above the rubbish was accumulated in time a cemetery

belonging to the adjoining church of San Lorenzo in Lucina. But this

cemetery, it is said, was ten feet below the present level of the city.

In the latter part of the thirteenth century, over it and over the

altar of Peace beneath it Cardinal Evesham built a palace, which has

since passed through various hands. In the early part of the sixteenth

century five carved panels of remarkable beauty were brought to light

from this ground. Other pieces were found, but were carried to various

places,--even to Paris, Vienna, and England. It was not until about

the beginning of the present century that it was proved that they

belonged to the famous Augustan Altar of Peace. Excavations have since

been made upon the original site, sixteen feet below the street level.

Vaulted passages have been constructed, so that it is possible to

pass along two sides of the altar’s foundation; and at the end of one

of these passages, practically embedded in earth and rubbish, may be

seen to-day a most beautifully carved panel showing a sacrificial

procession. The altar stood upon a platform three and one-quarter feet

high and measuring nineteen and a half by eleven and one-half feet.

It was approached by steps on four sides. All this was placed in the

midst of a sacred area thirty-eight feet by thirty-five feet, enclosed

by marble walls elaborately carved in relief on both sides. Among the

representations is a procession moving toward a sacrificial scene.

The figures are characterized by great dignity and their drapery is

arranged to produce a graceful effect. Augustus himself and many of the

persons high in rank and power during his reign are grouped as if in

conversation. It is evident that the whole structure was a most highly

wrought and artistic composition, a fitting monument to him whose

boast it was that he had secured unity and peace throughout his empire

and had caused the gates of Janus, the god of war, to be closed for a

long time. Professor James C. Egbert, of Columbia University, in his

description of this altar in the “Records of the Past” for 1906, to

which I am indebted, thus described two of the panels, which are now in

the Uffizzi Gallery at Florence:

In one of these there are two family groups both marked by the

presence of husband and wife. The tall young man on the left is

Drusus, who died B. C. 9, greatly mourned by the emperor and the

people. He wears a military cloak, as he has left his command

in Rhætia to attend the dedication of the altar. His wife, the

beautiful Antonia, stands immediately before him and their

conversation is interrupted by the warning gesture of the figure

between, who calls for silence lest they mar the sanctity of the

occasion. The child at their feet is either Germanicus or the later

emperor, Claudius. The group to the right may be Tiberius and his

wife Julia, whom he, much to his disgust, was compelled to marry

after the death of her former husband, Vipsanius Agrippa. The wife

may be the sister of Antonia in the first group. Then the husband

would be Lucius Domitius Ahenobarbus, the grandfather of Nero.

Vipsanius Agrippa played a very important part in bringing about

the reign of peace and we should expect to find him among the

members of the imperial group. The central figure in another panel

has been recognized as Agrippa because of the distinction suggested

by the repose of the countenance. Some see here a sadness of

expression natural to one who has suffered much. He is preceded by

a young man who bears on his shoulder the official ax, for Agrippa

appears here as a high-priest. The boy grasping his toga is Lucius

Cæsar, his son, and the beautiful woman on his left may be Julia,

his wife, or Vipsania Agrippina, his daughter.

To this description we may add that such graceful and charming

sculptures, with their portraits of leading personages, could not have

been unveiled to the Roman public without awakening great admiration.

To the period of Augustus also belongs the foundation, at least, of the

Pantheon. His prime minister and son-in-law, Marcus Vipsanius Agrippa,

erected a temple, twenty-seven years before Christ, at the north end of

the warm baths, which he had established here in the Campus Martius.

It was dedicated to several gods. It has often been repaired and

probably altered and enlarged by restorations. The emperors Hadrian,

Septimius Severus, and Caracalla all contributed to its preservation

and development. In antiquity the portico was reached by five steps,

which are now covered by the rising of the ground. Since A. D. 609 it

has been consecrated as a Christian church. Notwithstanding this, in

A. D. 663 Constans II, emperor at Constantinople, carried away to his

city the gilt-bronze tiles of the roof.

Throughout the middle ages this temple was prized as the palladium and

emblem of Rome. The main part of the building is circular in form,--the

height and diameter of which are said to be equal, each being one

hundred and forty-two feet,--and is composed of that concrete that

the ancient Romans knew how to make so lasting. It is lighted by an

uncovered aperture, thirty feet in diameter, in the center of the dome,

rimmed by an elegant ancient cornice of bronze. The rich columns of

different kinds of marble and the other decorations of the interior

are most imposing, and correspond well with the stately Corinthian

portico which forms the front of the edifice and under which once stood

colossal bronze statues of Augustus and Agrippa.

The five front steps by which it was entered in ancient times, are

now covered by the raising of the ground all around the building. The

entrance is still closed by the ancient massive, bronze doors. In 1632

Pope Urban VIII, one of the Barberini family, took away the bronze

columns and ceiling of the portico to make out of them the elaborate

pillars which support the canopy of the high altar in St. Peter’s,

and also cannon for the Castle of St. Angelo. This occasioned the

circulation of a popular epigram of Pasquin. “What the Barbarians did

not do the Barberini did.”

The Pantheon is the noblest and best preserved building of ancient

Rome,--the only one, indeed, having both its walls and vaulting intact,

and it is still closed by its ancient heavy bronze doors. Lord Byron’s

lines concerning it are well worth quoting because of the conciseness

of his description.

Simple, erect, severe, austere, sublime,

Shrine of all saints and temple of all gods

From Jove to Jesus, spared and blessed by time,

Looking tranquillity, while falls or nods

Arch, empire, each thing round thee, and man plods

His way through thorns to ashes! Glorious dome,

Shalt thou not last? Time’s scythe and tyrants’ rods

Shiver upon thee, sanctuary and home

Of art and piety, Pantheon, pride of Rome!

It is not strange that it was deemed the most fitting place for the

burial of the great artist, Raphael, and for that of the King of United

Italy, Victor Emmanuel.

Of the former event the poet Rogers says:

When Raphael went,

His heavenly face the mirror of his mind,

His mind a temple for all lovely things

To flock and to inhabit--when he went,

Wrapp’d in his sable cloak, the cloak he wore,

To sleep beneath the venerable dome,

By those attended who in life had loved,

Had worship’d, following in his steps to fame,

’Twas on an April day, when Nature smiles.

All Rome was there.

Victor Emmanuel’s tomb is always covered with wreaths, tributes by the

living to his honor.

The remnants of the great mausoleum of Augustus,--in which not only he

but many of his successors were interred,--are not now sought out by

many except students of antiquities. The last of the emperors buried

here was Nerva. Near the river Tiber, on what was then the Campus

Martius or field of Mars, on a great platform of stone, now beneath the

ground, rose the huge circular building of two stories, in which were

the chambers for the dead. Augustus was buried in the central chamber,

which was covered with a dome. From this radiated fourteen smaller

ones, most of which can now be traced, though in a ruined condition.

Above these was a pyramidal mound of earth in terraces planted with

cypress trees and surmounted with a large statue of the emperor

himself. The whole was surrounded by an attractive park.

For centuries the monument was well known to the people. War,

earthquake and neglect have now made its ruins one of the least

conspicuous sights in Rome, but some will ever find in them a deep

pathetic interest. After some searching I found the entrance to them

not far from the Via Di Ripetta. Upon my application, the custodian,

who was an old woman, admitted me from a sort of court, where I

could look up at a part of the circular exterior and where there

was a fountain at the side. An inscription tablet let into the wall

informs the visitor (in Latin) that here is the western wall of the

mausoleum of Augustus disclosed by the removal of buildings. What

seemed to be electric wires, stretched down along the side of the

building, suggested a curious connection between the beginning of

the first century and the beginning of the twentieth. Within the

structure I paced the corridors, gazed at the arched ceiling, and

could see out through the large windows into the central space. In the

twelfth century the central dome was thrown down by an earthquake.

Afterward the center was used as an open-air arena and was occupied

by a popular circus until a few years ago. At the time of my visit

it was a storehouse for the great plaster models for the sculptures

to be placed on the new monument that was building to the memory of

King Victor Emmanuel. The Egyptian obelisks, forty-five feet high,

which stood before the entrance in the first century, now are to be

found, one of them in front of the Quirinal Palace,--which is the

royal residence,--and the other one in the square by the great church

of Santa Maria Maggiore. Thus, long ago rifled of its contents, the

burial-place of the celebrated master of the ancient world has stood

for centuries, broken and neglected.

Since the time I was there, however, a new interest in it has awakened

and a change has been made. The circular interior has been cleared out,

and furnished with platform and seats. It has become a place again of

public entertainment and is known as The Augustean. Orchestral concerts

of a high order are there performed. In the interlude of the music the

visitor can ponder upon the march of the nineteen centuries which have

passed away since the walls around him were erected.

Augustus had been upon the throne about twenty-four years when Jesus

was born. That holy Child had come to share our lot and to reveal

clearly to men the knowledge of the Heavenly Father at a time when

all its political kingdoms had thus become consolidated by force or

treaty under one name of power, when better conditions and roads

were preparing for the diffusion of Christianity, and when men were

beginning to dream that there might be such a thing as a common loyalty

to one great sovereign. Was it too difficult a step as yet for their

minds to take from the contemplation of a universal dominion to the

doctrine of a universal brotherhood? The quiet and unobserved beginning

of our Lord’s spiritual and gracious mission was thus put in striking

contrast with the outward magnificence of the world’s great conqueror,

and the purely spiritual methods of the Gospel with the noisy forces of

a ponderous army.

When Augustus died Jesus was about eighteen years old. In a time of

such infrequent communication between distant places a quiet town in

Galilee, like Nazareth, would have slight relations with any higher

authority than Herod. Yet Jesus must have often seen in his boyhood

Roman military standards and groups of soldiers. He must have gazed

with eager interest and curiosity upon their strong armor and shining

weapons and watched with wonder their well-ordered movements. Roman

coins must have been familiar objects to him, with their medal and

superscriptions of the reigning monarch. He must have often discussed

with his companions the various pieces of news that came from time

to time from the great metropolis of the Empire. The death of the

emperor in Italy, and the succession of Tiberius to the throne, as

these were announced by couriers throughout the realm, must have

stirred in him many serious reflections and exalted aspirations, many

thrilling purposes of righteous zeal and tender love for men. Along

with his gradual increase of knowledge as to the wide extent of Cæsar’s

magnificent empire, there developed in his mind the sublime conception

of the Kingdom of God, his prophetic vision of its blessed sway, and

his consciousness that he himself was to be the Messianic King.

Never will the thoughtful part of the world finish the study of that

wonderful life, the childhood and the youth of which were among the

things that came to pass in the days of Cæsar Augustus.

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