learned men and the philosophers who attended him; nor were they less
careful in granting him that superiority he seemed so eagerly to affect.
Favorinus, a man of great reputation at court for philosophy, happening
one day to dispute with him upon some philosophical subject, acknowledged
himself to be overcome. His friends blamed him for thus giving up the
argument, when he might easily have pursued it with success. “How,”
replied Favorinus, who was probably a better courtier than philosopher,
“would you have me contend with a man who is master of thirty legions?”
Hadrian was so fond of literary fame, that we are told he wrote his own
life, and afterwards gave it to his servants to publish under their
names. But whatever might have been his weakness in aiming at universal
reputation, he was in no part of his reign remiss in attending to the
duties of his exalted station. He ordered the knights and senators never
to appear in public, but in the proper habits of their orders. He forbade
masters to kill their slaves, as had been before allowed; but ordained
that they should be tried by the laws enacted against capital offences.
A law so just, had he done nothing more, deserved to have insured his
reputation with posterity, and to have made him dear to mankind. He still
further extended the lenity of the laws to those unhappy men, who had
been long thought too mean for justice. If a master was found killed in
his house, he would not allow all his slaves to be put to the torture, as
formerly, but only such as might have perceived or prevented the murder.
[Illustration: RUINS OF THE TEMPLE OF VENUS, ROME]
In such cares he consumed the greatest part of his time; but, at last
finding the duties of his station daily increasing, and his own strength
proportionally upon the decline, he resolved upon adopting a successor,
whose merits might deserve, and whose courage secure, his exaltation.
After many deliberations, he made choice of Lucius Commodus, whose bodily
infirmities rendered him unfit for a trust of such importance. Of this,
after some time, Hadrian seemed sensible, declaring, that he repented of
having chosen so feeble a successor, saying that he had leaned against
a mouldering wall. However, Commodus soon after dying, the emperor
immediately adopted Titus Antoninus, afterwards surnamed the Pius; but
previously obliged him to adopt two others, namely, Marcus Aurelius and
Lucius Verus, all of whom afterwards succeeded in the empire.
While he was thus careful in appointing a successor, his bodily
infirmities daily increased; and at length his pains becoming
insupportable, he vehemently desired that some of his attendants should
despatch him. Antoninus, however, would by no means permit any of his
domestics to be guilty of so great an impiety, but used all the arts
in his power to reconcile the emperor to sustain life. At one time he
produced a woman, who pretended that she was warned in a dream that he
should recover his health; at another, a man was brought from Pannonia,
who gave him the same assurances. Nevertheless, Hadrian’s pains increased
day by day. He frequently cried out, “How miserable a thing it is to seek
death, and not to find it!” He engaged one Mastor, partly by threats and
partly by entreaties, to promise to despatch him; but Mastor, instead of
obeying, consulted his own safety by flight; so that he who was master
of the lives of millions, was not able to dispose of his own. In this
deplorable exigence, he resolved on going to Baiæ, where the tortures
of his diseases increasing, they affected his understanding, so that he
gave orders that several persons should be put to death; which Antoninus,
according to his usual wisdom, never meant to obey. Continuing, for
some time, in these excruciating circumstances, the emperor was at last
resolved to observe no regimen, often saying, that kings died merely by
the multitude of their physicians. This conduct served to hasten that
death he seemed so ardently to desire, and it was probably joy upon its
approach which dictated the celebrated stanzas which are so well known,
in repeating which he expired.
Animula, vagula, blandula,
Hospes, comesque corporis,
Quæ, nunc abibis in loca?
Pallidula, rigida, nudula,
Nec, ut soles, dabis jocos?
In this manner died Hadrian, in the sixty-second year of his age, after
a prosperous reign of twenty-one years and eleven months. His private
character seems to be a mixture of virtues and vices;[30] but, as a
prince, perhaps none of his predecessors showed more wisdom, or such
laudable assiduity. He was the first emperor who reduced the laws of the
empire into one standing code. Government received the greatest stability
from his counsels, and a tranquillity more lasting than could be expected
from such fierce neighbours abroad, and such a degenerate race of
citizens at home.[b]
RENAN’S ESTIMATE OF HADRIAN
[Sidenote: [134-138 A.D.]]
At the time of Hadrian’s return to Rome, in 134 A.D., Roman civilisation
had just exterminated Judaism, one of its most dangerous enemies, and
was triumphant. Everywhere there was peace and respect for the different
nations; the barbarians were apparently subjected, the mildest forms
of government had been introduced and were practised. Trajan had been
quite right in his belief that men can be governed and at the same time
treated with consideration. The idea of the state as not only tutelary
but beneficent was taking deep root. Hadrian’s private conduct might be
much blamed, his character was becoming perverted as his health gave way;
but the people did not notice it. Unprecedented splendour and comfort
surrounded everything like a brilliant aureole, disguising the weak
parts of the social organisation. Truth to say, these weak parts were
susceptible of correction. Progress was welcomed in everything. The stoic
philosophy penetrated legislation, introducing the idea of the rights of
man, of civil equality, of uniformity in the provincial administration.
The privileges of the Roman aristocracy were disappearing day by day. The
leaders of society believed in progress and toiled in its cause. They
were philosophers, philanthropists wishing without utopianism to bring
the freest possible application of reason into human affairs.
Hadrian enjoyed life and he had the right to do so. His inquisitive and
active mind gave birth to all kinds of fancies; and his taste was not
good enough to prevent him making mistakes. At the foot of the mountains
of Tibur he built a villa which resembled an album of his travels, a sort
of panorama of fame. It might have been described as the noisy, tawdry
fair of a dying nation. Everything was to be found there; imitation
Egyptian, imitation Greek, the Lyceum, the Academy, the Prytaneum, the
Pœcile, Canopus, the Alpheus, the valley of Tempe, the Elysian fields,
Tartarus; temples, libraries, theatres; a hippodrome, a naumachy, a
gymnasium, baths,--strange but attractive spot. For it is the last place
where enjoyment was to be found, where clever men fell asleep to the
empty sound of the “miserly Acheron.”[31]
_Hadrian as Patron of the Arts_
At Rome, the one thought of the fantastic emperor was that senseless
tomb, that immense mausoleum, where Babylon was put to shame, and
which, stripped of its treasures, became the citadel of papal Rome. His
buildings covered the world. The Athenæums he founded, the encouragement
he gave to letters and the fine arts, the liberties he accorded to
professors, rejoiced the hearts of all cultivated people. Unfortunately,
superstition, caprice, and cruelty mastered him more and more as
his physical strength decreased. He had built himself an Elysium to
disbelieve in, a hell to laugh at, a philosopher’s hall in which to jeer
at the philosophers, a Canopus in order to expose the impostures of the
priests and to remind himself of the mad festivals of Egypt, which had
so greatly amused him. Now everything seemed hollow and empty; nothing
interested him any longer. Perhaps some of the martyrdoms which took
place during his reign and for which it is not easy to assign a motive
may be attributed to the disorders and caprices of his last months.
Telesphorus was then the head of the Church of Rome; he died confessing
Christ and was numbered amongst the most glorious martyrs of the faith.
The death of the dilettante Cæsar was sad and undignified, for he was
animated by no really elevated moral sentiment. The world, nevertheless,
lost in him a mighty pillar. The Jews alone triumphed in the agony of his
last moments.
He cared sincerely for civilisation, and perfectly understood its
possibilities in his day. Ancient art and literature end with him. He was
the last emperor to believe in glory, as Ælius Verus was the last man who
knew how to appreciate the refinements of pleasure. Human affairs are so
frivolous that brilliancy and pomp must be allowed a part in them. No
world will hold together without these. Louis XIV knew this, and men have
lived and still live by the light of his copper-gilt sun. Hadrian, in his
own way, marks a climax, after which a rapid decline begins. Certainly,
from a moral standpoint, Antoninus and Marcus Aurelius far surpass him;
but under them the world becomes sad, loses its gaiety, puts on a cowl,
becomes Christian, while superstition increases.
The art of Hadrian, although it is cankered, still adheres to principles;
it is a skilful and learned art; then decadence sets in with irresistible
force. Ancient society realises that all is vanity, and on the day when
this discovery is made death is not far off. The two accomplished sages
who are to reign next are each in their several ways ascetics. Lucius
Verus and Faustina are to be the outcast survivors of ancient fashion.[d]
ANTONINUS (TITUS AURELIUS ANTONINUS PIUS), 138-161 A.D.
[Sidenote: [138-161 A.D.]]
The ancestors of Antoninus originally came from Nemausus (Nîmes); after
settling at Rome, they had filled the highest offices there. Antoninus
himself, distinguished by Hadrian, had received from that prince the
government of a portion of Italy, later on, the proconsulship of Asia,
and had finally been adopted by him on condition that he, in his turn,
should adopt Marcus Aurelius and Lucius, the son of Ælius Verus. During
his reign of twenty-three years (138-161) the empire enjoyed great
tranquillity, due as much to his virtues as to his moderation, and to
the able government of his predecessor, who had temporarily removed the
causes of disorder.
[Illustration: FAUSTINA, WIFE OF ANTONINUS PIUS
(From a statue in the Vatican)]
His renown extended so far that the princes of India, of Bactriana,
and Hyrcania chose him to arbitrate in their quarrels; his grateful
contemporaries gave him the beautiful title of “Father of the Human
Race.” He never appointed any but experienced and upright men to public
offices, and permitted them to hold their posts for life when he could
not replace them by others more able. A wise economy in financial
administration gave him the means of establishing useful institutions,
as, for example, two asylums where orphan girls were educated under the
protection of the Empress Faustina, and the appointments for learned
professors that he established not only in Rome, as Vespasian had done,
but in the large towns of the provinces.
He was able, also, to succour towns which had been stricken by any
plague, such as Rome, Antioch, Narbonne, and Rhodes, when devastated
by fire or earthquake. The wealth of a prince, he used to say, is
public felicity. He, himself, lived simply, accessible to all, and
ready to render justice to all complaints. Two conspiracies against him
were discovered; the two instigators alone perished. An _Apology for
Christianity_, composed by Justin, the philosopher, and presented to the
emperor, procured toleration and protection for the Christians, who were
already numerous in Rome and the provinces.
Antoninus engaged in no war, and did not even visit the provinces, which
were too peaceful and well governed to render his presence necessary.
His lieutenants, however, engaged in some battles, against the Moors
in Africa, and against the Alani and the Quadi on the Danube. The Lazæ
and the Armenians accepted the kings he installed. The Jews gave some
trouble, and the Britons attempted to destroy the wall of Hadrian.
An act that clearly shows the moderation of Antoninus is related by
Appian. At that time deputies came to Rome from the barbarians, with
a request to be received as subjects of the empire. This was refused
them. Such had been the policy of Augustus and Hadrian, and it had
had sufficiently good results in the well-being of a hundred millions
of men to justify Antoninus in following it. But peace also brought
forgetfulness of the martial valour of old. The legions, idle behind the
ramparts of their camp, no longer knew how to handle weapons, nor endure
fatigue; and all the severity of Avidius Cassius was required to root out
the effeminacy of the soldiers, particularly those in Syria, to wean them
from indulgence in “baths and the dangerous pleasures of Daphne, to tear
from their heads the flowers with which they crowned themselves at their
feasts.”[c]
In the beginning of his reign, he made it his particular study to promote
only the most deserving to employments; he moderated many imposts and
tributes, and commanded that all should be levied without partiality or
oppression. His liberality was such, that he even parted with all his
own private fortune, in relieving the distresses of the necessitous.
Against which, when Faustina, the empress, seemed to remonstrate, he
reprehended her folly, alleging, that as soon as he was possessed of
the empire, he quitted all private interests; and having nothing of his
own, all properly belonged to the public. He acted differently from his
predecessors with regard to travelling, and seldom left Rome, saying,
that he was unwilling to burden his subjects with ostentatious and
unnecessary expenses. By this frugal conduct, he was the better enabled
to suppress all the insurrections that happened during his reign, either
in Britain, in Dacia, or in Germany. Thus he was at once reverenced and
loved by mankind, being accounted rather a patron and a father to his
subjects, than a master and commander. Ambassadors were sent to him from
the remotest parts of Hyrcania, Bactria, and India, all offering him
their alliance and friendship; some desiring him to appoint them a king,
whom they seemed proud to obey. He showed not less paternal care towards
the oppressed Christians; in whose favour he declared, that if any should
proceed to disturb them, merely upon account of their religion, that such
should undergo the same punishment which was intended against the accused.
This clemency was attended with no less affability than freedom; but, at
the same time, he was upon his guard, that his indulgence to his friends
should not tempt them into insolence or oppression. He therefore took
care that his courtiers should not sell their favours, nor take any
gratuity from their suitors. In the time of a great famine in Rome, he
provided for the wants of the people, and maintained vast numbers with
bread and wine all the time of its continuance. When any of his subjects
attempted to inflame him with a passion for military glory, he would
answer, that he more desired the preservation of one subject, than the
destruction of a thousand enemies.
He was an eminent rewarder of learned men, to whom he gave large pensions
and great honours, drawing them from all parts of the world. Among the
rest he sent for Apollonius, the famous stoic philosopher, to instruct
his adopted son, Marcus Aurelius, whom he had previously married to his
daughter. Apollonius being arrived at Rome, the emperor desired his
attendance; but the other arrogantly answered, that it was the scholar’s
duty to wait upon the master, and not the master’s upon the scholar. To
this reply Antoninus only returned, with a smile, that it was surprising
how Apollonius, who made no difficulty of coming from Greece to Rome,
should think it so hard to walk from one part of Rome to another; and
immediately sent Marcus Aurelius to him. While the good emperor was thus
employed in making mankind happy, in directing their conduct by his own
example, or reproving their follies with the keenness of rebuke, he was
seized with a violent fever at Lorium, a pleasure house at some distance
from Rome; where, finding himself sensibly decaying, he ordered his
friends and principal officers to attend him. In their presence, he
confirmed the adoption of Marcus Aurelius, without once naming Lucius
Verus, who had been joined by Hadrian with him in the succession; then
commanding the golden statue of Fortune, which was always in the chamber
of the emperors, to be removed to that of his successor, he expired in
the seventy-fifth year of his age, after a prosperous reign of twenty-two
years and almost eight months.[b]
RENAN’S CHARACTERISATION OF ANTONINUS
Antoninus was a St. Louis in kindness and goodness, with far more
judgment and a broader mind. He is the most perfect sovereign who has
ever reigned.[32] He was even superior to Marcus Aurelius, since he
cannot be accused of weakness. To enumerate his good qualities would
be to enumerate the good qualities which may belong to an accomplished
man. All men hailed in him an incarnation of the mythical Numa
Pompilius. He was the most constitutional of sovereigns, besides being
simple and economical, occupied with good works and labours of public
utility, a stranger to excess, no great talker, and free from all
intellectual affectation. Through him philosophy became a genuine force;
the philosophers were everywhere liberally pensioned. He was himself
surrounded by ascetics and the general direction of the education of
Marcus Aurelius was his work.
Thus the world seemed to have reached an ideal state; wisdom reigned; the
world was governed for twenty-three years by a father; affectation and
false taste in literature died out; simplicity ruled; public instruction
was the object of earnest attention. The improvement was general;
excellent laws were passed, especially in favour of slaves; the relief of
suffering became a universal care. The preachers of moral philosophy were
even more successful than Dion Chrysostomus; the desire to win frivolous
applause was the peril they had to avoid. In the place of the cruel Roman
aristocracy a provincial aristocracy was springing up composed of honest
people, whose aim was the general good.
The similarity of these aspirations with those of Christianity was
striking. But a great difference separated the two schools and was to
make them enemies. By reason of its hope of an approaching end of the
world, its ill-concealed wish for the downfall of the ancient social
order, Christianity, in the midst of the beneficent empire of the
Antonines, was a subverter which had to be battled with. The Christian,
always pessimistic and inexhaustible in lugubrious prophecies, far from
aiding rational progress held it in contempt. Nearly all the Catholic
teachers regarded war between the empire and the church as necessary, as
the last act of the struggle between God and Satan; they boldly affirmed
that persecution would last to the end of all things. The idea of a
Christian empire, although it sometimes occurred to them, appeared a
contradiction and an impossibility.
Whilst the world was beginning to live again, the Jews and the Christians
insisted more than ever on wishing its last hour to approach. Already
the imposter Baruch had exhausted himself in vague announcements. The
Judeo-Christian sibyl all this time did not cease to thunder. The
ever-increasing splendour of Rome was a scandalous outrage to the divine
truth, to the prophets, to the saints. They also devoted themselves to
boldly denying the prosperity of the century. All natural scourges, which
continued to be fairly numerous, were held up as signs of implacable
wrath. The past and present earthquakes in Asia were taken advantage of
to inspire the most gloomy terrors. These calamities, according to the
fanatics, had only one cause--the destruction of the Temple at Jerusalem.
Rome, the courtesan, had given herself up to a thousand lovers who had
intoxicated her; she was to become a slave in her turn. Italy, bleeding
from civil wars, would become a den of wild beasts. The new prophets
employed nearly the same figures to describe the downfall of Rome as the
seer of sixty-nine to depict his melancholy fury.
It is difficult for any society not to answer such attacks. The sibylline
books containing them, attributed to the pretended Hystaspes and
announcing the destruction of the empire, were condemned by the Roman
authorities, and those who possessed or read them were amenable to the
death penalty. Anxious searching into the future was a crime during the
imperial epoch; and indeed under this useless curiosity there was nearly
always hidden a desire for revolution and incitement to assassination.
Doubtless, it would have been more worthy of the wise emperor who
introduced so many humane reforms to despise unrestrained and aimless
fantasies and to repeal those harsh laws which Roman despotism made to
weigh so heavily on liberty of worship and liberty of association; but
evidently the idea occurred to none of those about him, any more than it
did to those about Marcus Aurelius.
Only the free thinker can be absolutely tolerant, and Antoninus observed
and scrupulously maintained the ceremonies of the Roman religion. The
policy of his predecessors in this respect had been unswerving. They
had seen in the Christians a secret and anti-social sect, which was
dreaming of the overthrow of the empire; and, like all those attached
to the ancient Roman principles, they thought it necessary to suppress
it. Special edicts were not needed for this; the laws against _cœtus
illiciti_ and _illicita collegia_ were numerous. The Christians came
under the action of these laws in the most regular manner. It must be
observed, firstly, that the true spirit of liberty as it is understood
to-day, was then not comprehended, and that Christianity, when it was in
power, did not practise it any better than the pagan emperors; secondly,
that the repeal of the law against illegal societies would probably have
been the ruin of the empire, which rested on the essential principle that
the state must admit into itself no society which differed from it. The
principle was bad, according to our ideas; it is at least certain that it
was the cornerstone of the Roman constitution.
The people would have thought the foundations of the empire shattered if
there had been any relaxation of the repressive laws which they held to
be essential to the soundness of the state. The Christians appeared to
understand this. Far from bearing any ill will to Antoninus personally,
they rather regarded him as having lightened their burden. A fact which
does infinite honour to this sovereign is that the principal advocate
of Christianity dared confidently to address him for the purpose of
obtaining the rectification of a legal position which he rightly thought
unjust and unseemly in such a happy reign. Others went further, and
doubtless during the first years of Marcus Aurelius various rescripts
were fabricated purporting to be addressed under the name Antoninus
to the Larissians, to the Thessalonians, to the Athenians, to all the
Greeks, and to the states of Asia; rescripts so favourable to the Church
that if Antoninus had really countersigned them he would have been very
inconsistent in not becoming a Christian. These documents only prove one
thing--namely, the opinion the Christians had preserved of the worthy
emperor.
Antoninus showed himself no less friendly towards the Jews now that they
no longer threatened the empire. The laws forbidding circumcision, which
had been the result of the revolt of Bar Kosiba, were repealed so far
as they were vexatious. The Jew could freely circumcise his sons, but
if he practised the operation on a non-Jew he was severely punished.
As to civil jurisdiction within the community, it appears only to have
been accorded to the Israelites later. Such was the severity of the
established legal order, such was the popular effervescence against
Christians, that even during this reign there were unhappily many
martyrs. Polycarp and Justin are the most illustrious; they were not
the only ones. Asia Minor was stained with the blood of many judicial
murders, all occasioned by revolts; we shall see Montanism born like a
hallucination from this intoxication of martyrdom.
In Rome the book of the pseudo Hermas will appear as if from a bath
of blood. The absorbing idea of martyrdom, with questions respecting
renegades or those who had shown any weakness, fill the entire book. On
every page Justin describes the Christians as victims who only wait for
death; their name alone, as in the time of Pliny, is a crime. “Jews and
pagans persecute us on all sides; they deprive us of our property, and
only allow us to live when they cannot do otherwise. They behead us,
crucify us, throw us to the beasts, torment us with chains, with fire,
with the most horrible tortures. But the more they make us suffer, the
more the numbers of the faithful increase. The vinedresser prunes his
vine to make it grow again, he removes those branches which have borne
fruit so that others stronger and more fruitful shall grow; the same
thing happens to God’s people, who are like a fertile vine, planted by
his hand and by that of our Saviour Jesus Christ.”[d]
MARCUS AURELIUS (M. ÆLIUS AURELIUS ANTONINUS), 161-180 A.D.
[Sidenote: [161-163 A.D.]]
Marcus Aurelius, though left sole successor to the throne, took Lucius
Verus as his associate and equal in governing the state. The two emperors
had scarce been settled on the throne when the empire seemed attacked
on every side from the barbarous nations by which it was surrounded.
The Chatti invaded Germany and Rætia, ravaging all with fire and sword;
but were, after some time, repelled by Victorinus. The Britons likewise
revolted, but were repressed by Califurnius. But the Parthians, under
their king Vologeses, made an irruption still more dreadful than either
of the former, destroying the Roman legions in Armenia; then entering
Syria, and driving out the Roman governor, and filling the whole country
with terror and confusion. In order to stop the progress of this
barbarous irruption, Verus himself went in person, being accompanied by
Aurelius part of the way, who did all in his power, both by giving him
advice and proper attendants, to correct or restrain his vices.
[Illustration: MARCVS AVRELIVS]
However, these precautions were fruitless; Verus soon grew weary of
all restraint; he neglected every admonition; and, thoughtless of
the urgency of his expedition, plunged himself into every kind of
debauchery. These excesses brought on a violent fever on his journey,
which his constitution was sufficiently strong to get over, but nothing
could correct his vicious inclinations. Upon his entering Antioch, he
resolved to give an indulgence to every appetite, without attending to
the fatigues of war. There, in one of its suburbs, which was called
Daphne, which, from the sweetness of the air, the beauty of its groves,
the richness of its gardens, and the freshness of its fountains, seemed
formed for pleasure, he rioted in excesses unknown even to the voluptuous
Greeks, leaving all the glory of the field to his lieutenants, who were
sent to repress the enemy. These, however, fought with great success:
Statius Priscus took Artaxata; Cassius put Vologeses to flight, took
Seleucia, plundered and burned Babylon and Ctesiphon, and demolished the
magnificent palace of the kings of Parthia. In a course of four years,
during which the war continued, the Romans entered far into the Parthian
country, and entirely subdued it; but upon their return their army was
wasted to less than half its former number by pestilence and famine.
However, this was no impediment to the vanity of Verus, who resolved to
enjoy the honours of a triumph so hardly earned by others. Wherefore,
having appointed a king over the Armenians, and finding the Parthians
entirely subdued, he assumed the titles of Armenicus and Parthicus; and
then returned to Rome to partake of a triumph with Aurelius, which was
accordingly solemnised with great pomp and splendour.
[Sidenote: [163-166 A.D.]]
During the course of this expedition, which continued for some years,
Aurelius was sedulously intent upon distributing justice and happiness
to his subjects at home. He first applied himself to the regulation of
public affairs, and to the correction of such faults as he found in the
laws and policy of the state. In this endeavour he showed a singular
respect for the senate, often permitting them to determine without
appeal; so that the commonwealth seemed in a manner once more revived
under his equitable administration. Besides, such was his application to
business that he often employed ten days together upon the same subject,
maturely considering it on all sides, and seldom departing from the
senate house till, night coming on, the assembly was dismissed by the
consul. But while thus gloriously occupied, he was daily mortified with
accounts of the enormities of his colleague, being repeatedly assured
of his vanity, lewdness, and extravagance. However, feigning himself
ignorant of these excesses, he judged marriage to be the best method of
reclaiming him; and therefore sent him his daughter Lucilla, a woman of
great beauty, whom Verus married at Antioch. But even this was found
ineffectual: Lucilla proved of a disposition very unlike her father; and
instead of correcting her husband’s extravagances, only contributed to
inflame them. Yet Aurelius still hoped that, upon the return of Verus
to Rome, his presence would keep him in awe, and that happiness would at
length be restored to the state. But in this also he was disappointed.
His return only seemed fatal to the empire; for his army carried back
the plague from Parthia, and disseminated the infection into all the
provinces through which it passed.
THE PLAGUE AND THE DEATH OF VERUS
[Sidenote: [166-169 A.D.]]
Nothing could exceed the miserable state of the empire shortly after
the return of Verus. In this horrid picture was represented an emperor,
unawed by example or the calamities surrounding him, giving way to
unexampled debaucheries; a raging pestilence spreading terror and
desolation through all the parts of the western world; earthquakes,
famines, and inundations, such as had never before happened; the products
of the earth, throughout all Italy, devoured by locusts; all the
barbarous nations surrounding the empire, the Germans, the Sarmatians,
the Quadi, and Marcomanni, taking advantage of its various calamities,
and making their eruptions even into Italy itself. The priests did all
they could to put a stop to the miseries of the state, by attempting to
appease the gods, vowing and offering numberless sacrifices, celebrating
all the sacred rites that had ever been known in Rome, and exhibiting the
solemnity called Lectisternia seven days together. To crown the whole,
these enthusiasts, not satisfied with the impending calamities, made
new ones, by ascribing the distresses of the state to the impieties of
the Christians alone; so that a violent persecution was soon raging in
all parts of the empire, in which Justin Martyr, St. Polycarp bishop of
Smyrna, and an infinite number of others suffered martyrdom.
In this scene of universal tumult, desolation, and distress, there was
nothing left but the virtues and the wisdom of one man alone to restore
tranquillity and bring back happiness to the empire. Aurelius began
his endeavours by marching against the Marcomanni and Quadi, taking
Verus with him, who reluctantly left the sensual delights of Rome for
the fatigues of a camp. They came up with the Marcomanni near the city
of Aquileia, and after a furious engagement routed their whole army;
then pursuing them across the Alps, overcame them in several contests
and at last, entirely defeating them, returned into Italy without any
considerable loss. As the winter was far advanced, Verus was determined
upon going from Aquileia to Rome, in which journey he was seized with
an apoplexy which put an end to his life, being thirty-nine years old,
having reigned in conjunction with Aurelius nine. Suspicion, which
ever attends the fate of princes, did not fail to ascribe his death to
different causes.[b] Some reports implicated the empress Faustina as
having poisoned him; others named Lucilla, the wife of Verus, who was
said to be jealous of her husband’s sister, Fabia. But all these rumours
lack authenticity; and so, for that matter, do the reports on which the
usual estimates of the life of Verus are based. Doubtless his vices were
exaggerated.[a]
BORDER WARS
[Sidenote: [169-174 A.D.]]
Aurelius, who had hitherto felt the fatigues of governing not only an
empire but an emperor, being now left to himself began to act with great
diligence and more vigour than ever. His first care was to marry his
daughter Lucilla once more, to Claudius Pompeianus, a man of moderate
fortune and humble station, but eminent for his honesty, courage, and
wisdom. He then left Rome to finish the war against the Marcomanni, who,
joining with the Quadi, the Sarmatians, the Vandals, and other barbarous
nations, renewed hostilities with unusual rage and devastation. They
had some time before attacked Vindex, prefect of the prætorian bands,
and in a general battle near the Danube destroyed no less than twenty
thousand of his men. They even pursued the Romans as far as Aquileia,
and would have taken the city, had not the emperor led his troops in
person to oppose them. Aurelius, having repulsed the enemy, continued
his endeavours to repress them from future inroads. He spent in this
laborious undertaking no less than five years, harassing these barbarous
nations, supporting the most dreadful fatigues, and supplying, by the
excess of his courage, the defects of a delicate constitution. The
stoic philosophy, in which he was bred, had taught him simplicity of
living, which served as an example to the whole army. The common soldier
could not murmur at any hardships he was put upon, when he saw the
emperor himself every hour undergoing greater austerities with cheerful
resignation. By this conduct Aurelius so wearied out the enemy with
repeated attacks, that he at last constrained them to accept of such
terms of peace as he thought fit to impose, and thus returned in triumph
to Rome.
Upon the emperor’s return to Rome, he began his usual endeavours to
benefit mankind by a further reformation of the internal policy of the
state. He ordered that no inquiry should be made after the fortune
of deceased persons who had been dead five years. He moderated the
public expenses, and lessened the number of shows and sports which were
exhibited in the amphitheatre. He particularly took the poor under his
protection; he found such pleasure in relieving their wants that he
considered his ability to supply the dictates of his compassion as one of
the greatest happinesses of his life. He laboured incessantly to restrain
the luxuries of the great, he prohibited the use of chariots and litters
to persons of inferior station, and endeavoured by all means to correct
the lewdness and disorders of women.
But his good endeavours were soon interrupted by a renewal of the former
wars. The barbarians no sooner perceived his army withdrawn, than they
took up arms once more, and renewed their ravages with greater fury
than before. They had now drawn over to their side all the nations from
Illyricum to the farthest parts of Gaul. Aurelius, therefore, again saw
himself surrounded with difficulties; his army had before been wasted
by the plague and frequent engagements, and his treasures entirely
exhausted. In order to remedy these inconveniences, he increased his
forces by enlisting slaves, gladiators, and the banditti of Dalmatia.
To raise money, he sold all the movables belonging to the empire and all
the rich furniture which had been deposited in the cabinets of Hadrian.
This sale, which continued for two months, produced so considerable a sum
as to defray all the expenses of the war. His next effort was to march
forwards, and cross the Danube by a bridge of boats.[b]
Dion Cassius[e] tells some most surprising stories about the campaign
that followed; and the picturesqueness of this narrative is heightened by
the emendations added to it by Xiphilinus,[h] to whose excerpts we owe
the preservation of the account. It is worth while to quote these authors
at some length, as their story well illustrates the character of the
material on which our reconstruction of the history of this period must
rest.[a]
“After having fought several important battles,” says Dion, “and exposed
himself to many dangers, Marcus Antoninus (Marcus Aurelius) subjugated
the Marcomanni and the Iazyges; he also carried on a great war against
the people called Quadi, in which, against his expectations, he was
victorious, or rather victory was bestowed upon him by a god. Indeed it
was divine interposition that saved the Romans from the dangers they were
in during this combat. Surrounded by the Quadi, who had all the advantage
of position, the Romans defended themselves valiantly with their shields;
presently the barbarians ceased hostilities in the hope that heat and
thirst would deliver their adversaries into their hands without the
trouble of further fighting; and took possession of all the places
around which they fortified to prevent the enemy from finding water, for
the Quadi were far superior in numbers. Now while the Romans, unable
either to offer combat or retreat and reduced to the last extremity by
wounds, fatigue, heat, and thirst, were standing helplessly at their
posts, clouds suddenly assembled in great number and rain descended in
floods--certainly not without divine intervention, since an Egyptian
mage, Arnulphis, who was with Marcus Antoninus, is said to have invoked
several genii, principally the aërial Mercury, by enchantment, and thanks
to them had brought down rain.”[e]
“This,” Xiphilinus comments, “is what Dion relates regarding this
matter; but he seems, whether voluntarily or involuntarily, to practise
deception. I incline to the belief that he does so voluntarily. And why
not, as a matter of fact? He knew that there existed a legion called the
Thundering Legion, which name was given it for no other reason than for
what came to pass in this war. To this legion was due the preservation
of the Roman army and the loss of that of the barbarians, and not to
the mage Arnulphis. Marcus Antoninus had a legion composed of soldiers
from Melitene, who all professed Christianity. During the battle the
chief of the prætorians had sought out Marcus Antoninus, who was in
great perplexity at the turn events were taking, fearing sorely for the
safety of the army, and represented to him, it is said, that there was
nothing the people called Christians could not obtain by their prayers,
and that among his forces was a troop composed wholly of followers of
that religion. Rejoiced at this news Marcus Antoninus demanded of these
soldiers that they should pray to their god, who, granting their petition
on the instant, sent lightning among the enemy and consoled the Romans
with rain. Struck by this wonderful success the emperor honoured the
Christians in an edict and named their legion the Thundering. It is
even asserted that a letter exists by Marcus Antoninus on this subject.
The pagans well know that the company was called the Thunderers, having
attested the fact themselves, but they reveal nothing of the occasion on
which the legion received the name.
“Dion adds that when the rain began to fall every soldier lifted his
head toward heaven to receive the water in his mouth; that afterwards
some held out their shields and others their helmets to catch the water,
and many gave their horses to drink. Being set upon at once by the
barbarians they drank and fought on the same spot, and several, being
wounded, swallowed blood mingled with the water in their helmets. All
being occupied in drinking, they would doubtless have been seriously
incommoded by this attack had not heavy hail and numerous thunderbolts
thrown consternation into the ranks of the enemy. Fire and water could
be seen to mingle as they left the heavens; some upon whom they fell
drank and were refreshed, but many were burned and perished. The fire
did not reach the Romans, but if it did by chance touch one of them it
was immediately extinguished; in the same manner the rain, instead of
comforting the barbarians, seemed merely to excite, like oil, the fire
with which they were being consumed, and all soaked with water as they
were they constantly sought more. Some barbarians inflicted wounds upon
themselves as though their blood had power to extinguish flames, while
many rushed over to the side of the Romans, hoping that there the water
might be salutary to them. Marcus Antoninus had compassion on them, and
for the seventh time he was proclaimed emperor by the soldiers. Although
not usually accepting this title until it had been bestowed upon him by
the senate, he made no demur on this occasion, holding that the honour
came from a god, and wrote to that effect to the senate. As for Faustina,
the title bestowed on her was Mother of the Camp.”[h]
Notwithstanding this victory, the war continued for some months longer;
but, after many violent conflicts, the barbarians sent to sue for peace.
The emperor imposed conditions upon them, more or less severe, as he
found them more or less disposed to revolt; being actually resolved to
divide their territories into provinces, and subject them to the Roman
Empire. However, a fresh rebellion called him to the defence of his
dominions at home.
[Illustration: STATUE OF MARCUS AURELIUS IN THE CAPITOL]
THE REVOLT OF AVIDIUS
[Sidenote: [174-175 A.D.]]
Avidius Cassius was one of the emperor’s favourite generals, and had been
chiefly instrumental in obtaining the Roman successes in Parthia. His
principal merit seemed to consist in his restoring the old discipline
and in pretending a violent regard for the commonwealth in its ancient
form. But, in fact, all his seeming regard for freedom was only to seize
upon the liberties of his country for his own aggrandisement. Wherefore,
finding his soldiers (for he was left with an army in the East) willing
to support his pretensions, he proclaimed himself emperor in Syria. One
of his chief artifices to procure popularity was his giving out that he
was descended from the famous Cassius, who had conspired against Cæsar;
and like him he pretended that his aims were for the re-establishment of
the commonwealth of Rome. He also caused it to be rumoured that Aurelius
was dead, and he affected to show the greatest respect for his memory.
By these pretences, he united a large body of men under his command, and
in a short time brought all the countries from Syria to Mount Taurus
under his subjection. These prosperous beginnings served to increase the
emperor’s activity, but not his apprehensions. He prepared to oppose him
without any marks of uneasiness for the event; telling his soldiers that
he could freely yield up his empire to Avidius, if it should be judged
conducive to the public good; for, as to his own part, the only fruits he
had from exaltation were incessant labour and fatigue.
“I am ready,” cried he, “to meet Avidius before the senate, and before
you; and to yield him up the empire, without the effusion of blood, or
striking a blow, if it shall be thought good for the people. But Avidius
will never submit to such a tribunal; he who has been faithless to his
benefactor can never rely upon any man’s professions. He will not even,
in case of being worsted, rely upon me. And yet, my fellow-soldiers, my
only fear is, and I speak it with the greatest sincerity, lest he should
put an end to his own life; or lest some, thinking to do me a service,
should hasten his death, the greatest hope that I have is to prove that I
can pardon the most outrageous offences; to make him my friend, even in
spite of his reluctance; and to show the world that civil wars themselves
can come to a happy issue.” In the meantime Avidius, who well knew that
desperate undertakings must have a speedy execution, endeavoured to draw
over Greece to his assistance; but the love which all mankind bore the
good emperor frustrated his expectations; he was unable to bring over
a single city to espouse his interests. This repulse seemed to turn
the scale of his former fortunes. His officers and soldiers began now
to regard him with contempt; so that they at last slew him, in less
than four months after their first revolt. His head was brought to the
emperor, who received it with regret, and ordered it an honourable
interment. The rest of the conspirators were treated with great lenity;
some few of them were banished, but recalled soon after. This clemency
was admired by some, and condemned by others; but the emperor little
regarded the murmurs or the applause of the multitude; guided only by the
goodness of his own disposition, he did what to him seemed right, content
and happy in self-approbation. When some took the liberty of blaming his
conduct, telling him that Avidius would not have been so generous had
he been conqueror, the emperor replied in this sublime manner: “I never
served the gods so ill, or reigned so irregularly, as to fear Avidius
could ever be conqueror.”
AN IMPERIAL TOUR AND A TRIUMPH
[Sidenote: [175-177 A.D.]]
Though Avidius was no more, yet Aurelius was sensible that he had still
some enemies remaining, whom he was willing to win over. He therefore
took a journey into the East, where, in all places, he at once charmed
them with his affability, raised their admiration by his clemency,
instructed them by precept, and improved them by his example. The better
to prevent such revolts for the future, he ordained that as Avidius was
a native of the country in which he rebelled, no person, for the time to
come, should command in the place where he was born. In this journey
the empress Faustina was unexpectedly seized with a violent distemper,
and died. She was a woman whose wanton life gave great scandal to the
dignity of her station; however, her passive husband either could not or
at least affected not to see her enormities, but willingly admitted the
ill-deserved honours which the senate importunately decreed to her memory.
On his way to Rome he visited Athens, where he conferred many honours on
the inhabitants, and established professors in all the sciences, with
munificent salaries for their ease. Upon landing in Italy he quitted his
soldier’s habit, as also did all his army, and made his entry into Rome
in the gown which was worn in peace. As he had been absent almost eight
years, he distributed to each citizen eight pieces of gold, and remitted
all the debts due to the treasury for sixty years past. At the same time
he nominated his son Commodus to succeed him in the empire, and made him
a partner in his triumphal entry at the close of 176.[b]
At this time the senate erected an equestrian statue of Marcus, of which
Merivale speaks in the following eloquent terms:
“Of all the Cæsars whose names are enshrined in the page of history, or
whose features are preserved to us in the repositories of art, one alone
seems still to haunt the eternal city in the place and the posture most
familiar to him in life. In the equestrian statue of Marcus Aurelius,
which crowns the platform of the Campidoglio, imperial Rome lives again.
Of all her consecrated sights it is to this that the classical pilgrim
should most devoutly repair; this of all the monuments of Roman antiquity
most justly challenges his veneration. For in this figure we behold an
emperor, of all the line the noblest and the dearest, such as he actually
appeared; we realise in one august exemplar the character and image of
the rulers of the world. We stand here face to face with a representative
of the Scipios and Cæsars, with a model of the heroes of Tacitus and
Livy. Our other Romans are effigies of the closet and the museum; this
alone is a man of the streets, the Forum, and the Capitol. Such special
prominence is well reserved, amidst the wreck of ages, for him whom
historians combine to honour as the worthiest of the Roman people.”[l]
Besides this, a group of monuments expressive of their homage was erected
in the Via Lata (a part of the Flaminian way) on the Field of Mars. The
dedicatory inscription and some bas-reliefs have come down to us from
a triumphal arch which was not destroyed until the year 1662; the most
important of them being some bas-reliefs representing the apotheosis of
Faustina. The marble column of Marcus Aurelius, in what is now the Piazza
Colonna, is still standing. It measures 29.55 metres in height, inclusive
of the base, capital, plinth and abacus, and consists of twenty-eight
blocks. A spiral staircase of 190 steps go up in the interior, and the
abacus was originally surmounted by a bronze statue of the emperor.
Round the shaft, as in Trajan’s column, runs a spiral band of reliefs,
containing twenty rows of figures one above the other, and representing
the wars of the Romans against the tribes of the Danube. In design and
execution, however, these sculptures, which were not finished until the
reign of the emperor’s successor, fall far short of the excellence of
the earlier work. The representation of motion is often exaggerated,
the outlines and draperies are harsh and clumsy, and the profile of the
relief is coarser than in Trajan’s column.
The statue was probably carried off by the Byzantine emperor, Constans
II, in the year 663 A.D. The column was struck by lightning in 1589, and
was restored by Pope Sixtus V, and surmounted by a statue of Paul the
apostle in gilded bronze. A temple of Marcus Aurelius probably stood to
the west of it, on what is now Monte Citorio.
[Sidenote: [177-180 A.D.]]
After his return to Rome Marcus Aurelius was once more at leisure to
prosecute zealously the affairs of peace, for which he had so great a
liking. The administration was admirable, its only defect being that the
mildness of the emperor’s disposition inclined him to laxity in dealing
with the governors of the senatorial provinces. Apart from certain
other matters (such as the matter of the Italian magistrates and the
judicial powers of the high imperial officials at Rome), the care of the
alimentary institution was the object of his peculiar interest. It is not
improbable (though open to question) that at this time he placed this
institution under the charge of a consular alimentary prefect specially
appointed. The work hitherto done by the district prefects was handed
over to the Italian magistrates, and the curators of the highways were
commissioned, on the one hand, to guard against exactions on the part of
customs officials, and on the other, to superintend the Italian grain
markets and arrange for the supply and sale of corn.
The serious financial straits in which the empire was involved during
the critical years of the war on the Danube were not without their
effect on the alimentary institution. The emperor had already allowed
the weight of the gold piece to fall to 7.3 gr. and the proportion of
alloy in the denarius to rise to 25 per cent.; and he seems now to have
found it necessary to call in from the landowners the capital set aside
for the support of the institution and to divert the interest to the
public treasury; a precedent which was hereafter to prove very injurious.
Nevertheless Marcus Aurelius was so able an economist that no later than
the year 176 he was able to relieve the burdens of the nation by the
remission of all debts and arrears due to the public treasury (for a
period of forty-six years). Meanwhile the population of the capital was
gratified by repeated donations of money and corn during the lean years.
The emperor endeavoured to modify the sanguinary character of the
gladiatorial shows by requiring the combatants to have buttons on their
foils, and the appointment of a prætor tutelaris was a proof of his
special care for interests of minors. Moreover, while following the
levelling policy of his two predecessors in the extension of Latin and
Roman citizenship to all parts of the empire, he was careful to lay
the foundation of a more accurate knowledge of the statistics of his
dominions.[m]
“Amid these records of gentleness and forbearance,” says Miss Zimmern,
“it seems strange to read that Marcus Aurelius permitted a cruel
persecution of the Christians. Among the victims of this reign were
Justin Martyr and Polycarp, and numbers suffered in a general persecution
of the churches at Lyons and Vienna. It must not, however, be forgotten
that the persecution was political rather than religious. Of the true
teaching of Christianity Marcus Aurelius knew little and cared less; but
its followers, in refusing to acknowledge a religion which included the
emperors among its deities, became rebels against the existing order of
things, and therein culpable.”[n]
The well-meant labours of Aurelius were interrupted by grievous
calamities. In Asia, earthquakes were a veritable scourge; and the year
178 in particular was marked by frightful destruction on the Ionian
coasts, especially at Samos, Chios, Miletus, and the magnificent city
of Smyrna. Liberal assistance was sent to the last-named place at the
entreaty of P. Ælius Aristides (born 117 or 129) of Adriani in Bithynia.
But the emperor’s gravest anxieties were for the future. The hand of
death had lain heavy on his family, nor was the heir-presumptive to the
throne a son likely to rejoice his father’s heart. Marcus Lucius Ælius
Aurelius Commodus Antoninus was born at Lanuvium on August 31, 161, and
invested with the title of Cæsar on October 12, 166. But the boy was
ill-endowed by nature, and the efforts of his father, and of the other
able men about him (such as Cornelius Fronto, and Galen, the famous
physician, who had lived in Rome from 169 onwards as his physician in
ordinary, and died about 200 A.D.) were unsuccessful in fitting him for
the duties of his high station. Commodus, though by no means free from
evil tendencies, was not exactly vicious, but he was stupid, timid,
lacking in initiative, and therefore likely to be swayed by his immediate
surroundings. This was not the kind of man the empire needed at this
juncture. Nevertheless, Marcus Aurelius could not summon up resolution
enough to exclude him from the succession. On the contrary, Commodus was
invested with tribunician authority in the year 177, and in order to
secure his succession he was called upon, thus early, to take his place
at his father’s side as augustus.
LAST CAMPAIGNS AND DEATH OF AURELIUS
The whole imperial power was only too soon to pass into the hands of this
sinister being. The middle Danube, where Pertinax had been in command
and had been succeeded, on his appointment to the governorship of Mœsia,
by the two Quintilii, was the centre of constant disorders. The German
tribes were inflamed afresh by the exaction of the hard conditions of
peace, and by the year 177 the flames of war had burst forth again. In
178 Marcus Aurelius was once more forced to take the field in person. He
therefore married his son to Crispina, daughter of the consular Caius
Bruttius Præsens (if, indeed, the marriage had not taken place in the
previous year), and set forth with him to the Danube on the fifth of
August.
The Danube provinces were at this time very strongly fortified, and
the river was extremely well guarded as far as Ratisbon on the west.
Its waters were navigated by a powerful fleet divided into squadrons
corresponding to the three principal harbours of Laureacum, Arelape
Comagenæ, and Carnuntum. The emperor had raised two legions to occupy
Noricum and Rætia. In Noricum the central point of the military
frontier was at Laureacum, and the highway of the Danube had now been
completed. The valleys and roads leading to the Danube were no less
strongly fortified than those which led to the Rhine. Above Laureacum
the forts of Lentia (on the Schlossberg of Linz) and Joviacum (Schlögen
near Haibach) commanded the surrounding country, and below the central
fortress the great road to Vindobona was guarded by the castellum of
Lacus Felicis (of which the wall may still be seen at Oehling on the
Url), which was capable of accommodating three cohorts, by Elegium (on
the crags of Wallsee), and by the fortified camp of Arelape at the mouth
of the Erlaf. Beyond these came the castle of Namare on the crags of
Melk, the castella of Trigisamum (Traismauer), Faviana (Mautern), and
Comagenæ (Tulln), and lastly of Citium (Zeiselmauer), at the foot of the
forest of Vindobona. The next section of the Pannonian Danube was even
more thoroughly protected. Vindobona was flanked by several forts, and
close to this strong fortress was Carnuntum, its main bulwark, a mighty
quadrangle close upon the steep bank of the river, raised far aloft above
the torrent stream and looking across its turbid waves and green islands
to the boundless stretches of the Marchfeld. The passage of the Danube
was guarded by a barbican (at Stopfenreut).
Of this fresh war on the Danube few records have come down to us. From
the outset it was more successful than the former campaign. One of the
most brilliant episodes was a great victory gained over the Germans,
after fearful carnage, at the end of the year 179, by Tarruntenus
Paternus, a notable jurist and scientific tactician, who was now in
command as _præfectus prætorio_. Fortune seemed to smile ever more
brightly on the Roman arms, when, as the evil genius of the empire
would have it, the admirable emperor died of the plague in the camp at
Vindobona, rightly appreciated and deeply mourned in death; deified and
vainly desired as the fortunes of the declining empire became more and
more gloomily overcast.[m]
“It seemed,” said the sympathetic Goldsmith,[b] “as if the whole glory
and prosperity of the Roman Empire died with Aurelius. From thenceforward
we are to behold a train of emperors either vicious or impotent, either
wilfully guilty or unable to assert the dignity of their station. We
are to behold an empire, grown too great, sinking by its own weight,
surrounded by barbarous and successful enemies without and torn by
ambitious and cruel factions within; the principles of the times wholly
corrupted; philosophy attempting to regulate the minds of men without
the aid of religion; and the warmth of patriotism entirely evaporated,
by being diffused in too wide a circle.” But a certain allowance must be
made for eulogistic exaggeration in such an estimate as this. It must
never be forgotten that a great empire changes slowly. All was not well
with the empire before Marcus Aurelius, and all was not ill with it
afterwards.[a]
The despondency which had seized on the gentle emperor’s spirits
is strongly marked in the circumstances of his last hours. While
anticipating his own decease with satisfaction, and even with eagerness,
he regarded himself as only a fellow-traveller on the common road of
life with all around him, and took leave of his friends as one who was
but just preceding them. If he regarded the condition of public affairs,
the prospect of his son succeeding him was not such as to console him;
for he could not hide from himself that Commodus was vicious, cruel, and
illiterate. The indulgence he had shown to his consort’s irregularities
might be pardoned by the state, to which they were of little moment;
but his weakness in leaving to his graceless offspring the command of a
world-wide empire must reflect more strongly on his memory.
He may have judged, indeed, that the danger to the state from a bad
prince was less than the danger from a disputed succession, especially
in the face of the disasters accumulating around it. On his death-bed
he warned his son not to underrate the peril from the barbarians,
who, if at the moment worsted and discouraged, would soon revive, and
return again to the assault with increasing vigour. And so he left the
laws of inheritance, as now ordinarily received, to take their course,
indicating his will that Commodus should succeed him by the simple form
of recommending him to the care of his officers and to the favour of the
immortal gods. On the seventh day of his illness he admitted none but his
unworthy son to his chamber, and after a few words dismissed him, covered
his head for sleep, and passed away alone and untended.
Born on the 20th of April, 121, and dying on the 17th of March, 180, he
had almost completed his fifty-ninth year. His career had been divided
into three nearly equal portions: the first, to his association in
the empire with Antoninus; the second, to his accession to complete
sovereignty; the third, from thence to his decease. The first was
the season of his general education, the second that of his training
for empire, in the last he exercised power uncontrolled. In each he
had acquitted himself well, in each he had gained himself love and
admiration; but the earlier periods were eminently prosperous and happy;
the crowning period was a time of trial, of peril, fatigue, distress, and
apprehension.
MERIVALE COMPARES AURELIUS AND ALFRED THE GREAT
Historical parallels between men of different times and circumstances
are very apt to mislead us, yet I cannot refrain from indicating the
comparison, which might be drawn with unusual precision, between the
wise, the virtuous, the much-suffering Aurelius, and England’s great and
good king Alfred. Both arrived early and unexpectedly to power; both
found their people harassed by the attacks of importunate enemies; they
assumed with firmness the attitude of resistance and defence, and gained
many victories in the field, though neither could fail to acknowledge the
unequal conditions of the struggle. Both found themselves at the head of
a weak and degenerate society whose hour of dissolution had well-nigh
struck. Nevertheless, they contended manfully in its behalf, and strove
to infuse their own gallant spirit into a people little worthy of their
championship.
But Aurelius and Alfred were not warriors only. They were men of
letters by natural predilection and early habit; they were legislators,
administrators, and philosophers, with this difference, that the first
came at the end of a long course of civilised government, the second
almost at its beginning; the first at the mournful close of one period
of mental speculation, the second at the fresh and hopeful commencement
of another. The one strove to elevate the character of his subjects by
the example of his own scrupulous self-examination; the other by precepts
of obedience to an external revelation. But both were, from their early
days, weak in body, and little fit to cope with the appalling fatigues of
their position; both, if I mistake not, were sick at heart, and felt that
their task was beyond their power, and quitted life prematurely, with
little reluctance.
In one respect, however, their lot was different. The fortunes of the
people of the English Alfred, after a brief and distant period of
obscuration, have ever increased in power and brightness, like the
sun ascending to its meridian. The decline of which Aurelius was the
melancholy witness was irremediable and final, and his pale solitary star
was the last apparent in the Roman firmament.[l]
GIBBON’S ESTIMATE OF MARCUS AURELIUS, AND OF THE AGE OF THE ANTONINES
[Sidenote: [161-180 A.D.]]
The virtue of Marcus Aurelius Antoninus was of a severe and laborious
kind. It was the well-earned harvest of many a learned conference, of
many a patient lecture, and many a midnight lucubration. At the age of
twelve years he embraced the rigid system of the stoics, which taught
him to submit his body to his mind, his passions to reason; to consider
virtue as the only good, vice as the only evil, all things external as
things indifferent. His meditations, composed in the tumult of a camp,
are still extant; and he even condescended to give lessons of philosophy,
in a more public manner than was perhaps consistent with the modesty
of a sage or the dignity of an emperor. But his life was the noblest
commentary on the precepts of Zeno. He was severe to himself, indulgent
to the imperfections of others, just and beneficent to all mankind. He
regretted that Avidius Cassius, who excited a rebellion in Syria, had
disappointed him by a voluntary death of the pleasure of converting an
enemy into a friend; and he justified the sincerity of that sentiment by
moderating the zeal of the senate against the adherents of the traitor.
War he detested, as the disgrace and calamity of human nature; but when
the necessity of a just defence called upon him to take up arms, he
readily exposed his person to eight winter campaigns on the frozen banks
of the Danube, the severity of which was at last fatal to the weakness of
his constitution. His memory was revered by a grateful posterity; and,
above a century after his death, many persons preserved the image of
Marcus Antoninus among those of their household gods.
If a man were called upon to fix the period in the history of the
world during which the condition of the human race was most happy and
prosperous, he would, without hesitation, name that which lapsed from the
death of Domitian to the accession of Commodus.[33] The vast extent of
the Roman Empire was governed by absolute power, under the guidance of
virtue and wisdom. The armies were restrained by the firm but gentle hand
of four successive emperors, whose characters and authority commanded
involuntary respect. The forms of the civil administration were carefully
preserved by Nerva, Trajan, Hadrian, and the Antonines, who delighted in
the image of liberty, and were pleased with considering themselves as
the accountable ministers of the laws. Such princes deserved the honour
of restoring the republic, had the Romans of their day been capable of
enjoying a rational freedom.
The labours of these monarchs were overpaid by the immense reward that
inseparably waited on their success; by the honest pride of virtue, and
by the exquisite delight of beholding the general happiness of which they
were the authors. A just but melancholy reflection embittered, however,
the noblest of human enjoyments. They must often have recollected the
instability of a happiness which depended on the character of a single
man. The fatal moment was perhaps approaching when some licentious youth,
or some jealous tyrant, would abuse, to the destruction, that absolute
power which they had exerted for the benefit of their people. The ideal
restraints of the senate and the laws might serve to display the virtues,
but could never correct the vices, of the emperor. The military force was
a blind and irresistible instrument of oppression; and the corruption
of Roman manners would always supply flatterers eager to applaud, and
ministers prepared to serve, the fear or the avarice, the lust or the
cruelty, of their masters.[e]
FOOTNOTES
[28] [There are other accounts; some claiming that Trajan “loved Hadrian
as his son.”]
[29] [Simon’s real name was Bar Kosiba from the town Kosiba. “Son of
lies” was the interpretation given to his name after his failure.]
[30] [Nearly all the ancient historians of Rome were partisans of the
senate, as against the emperors. This circumstance chiefly accounts for
the unfavourable report of Hadrian’s last years which has come down to
us.]
[31] [Hadrian’s villa hardly deserves such sarcasm. It was a sort of
miniature, natural and architectural, of the Roman world,--a pleasant
artistic retreat for the emperor during his weary illness, and a monument
to his cosmopolitan character.]
[32] [Bury’s[n] estimate is different. He says: “Antoninus was hardly a
great statesman. The rest which the empire enjoyed under his auspices had
been rendered possible through Hadrian’s activity, and was not due to his
own exertions; on the other hand, he carried the policy of peace at any
price too far, and so entailed calamities on the state after his death.”]
[33] [This famous estimate of Gibbon’s has been seriously questioned.
About half of the inhabitants of the empire were slaves, and it is
scarcely in doubt that a great majority of the freemen were materially,
intellectually, and morally inferior to the average civilised man of
to-day. It must be recalled, however, that the condition of the masses
has greatly improved since the time of Gibbon.]
[Illustration: BULL PREPARED FOR SACRIFICE]