An Imperial Savage
We have now reached the period in which began the decline and fall of
the Roman empire. Its story is crowded with events, but lacks those
dramatic and romantic incidents which give such interest to the history
of early Rome. Now good emperors ruled, now bad ones followed, now peace
prevailed, now war raged; the story grows monotonous as we advance. The
reigns of virtuous emperors yield much to commend but little to
des
ribe; those of wicked emperors repel us by their enormities and
disgust us by their follies. We must end our tales with a few selections
from the long and somewhat dreary list.
After Vespasian came to the throne, a period of nearly two centuries
elapsed during most of which Rome was governed by men of virtue and
ability, though cursed for a time by the reigns of the cruel Domitian,
the dissolute Commodus, the base Caracalla, and the foolish Elagabalus.
Fortunately, none of the monsters who disgraced the empire reigned long.
Assassination purified the throne. The total length of reign of the
cruel monarchs of Rome covered no long space of time, though they occupy
a great space in history.
We have now to tell how the patrician families of Rome lost their hold
upon the throne, and a barbarian peasant became lord and master of this
vast empire, of which his ancestors of a few generations before had
perhaps scarcely heard. The story is an interesting one, and well worth
repeating.
Just after the year 200 A.D. the emperor Septimius Severus, father of
the notorious Caracalla, while returning from an expedition to the East,
halted in Thrace to celebrate, with military games, the birthday of
Geta, his youngest son. The spectacle was an enticing one, and the
country-people for many miles round gathered in crowds to gaze upon
their sovereign and behold the promised sports.
Among those who came was a young barbarian of such gigantic stature and
great muscular development as to excite the attention of all who saw
him. In a rude dialect, which those who heard could barely understand,
he asked if he might take part in the wrestling exercises and contend
for the prize. This the officers would not permit. For a Roman soldier
to be overthrown by a Thracian peasant, as seemed likely to be the
result, would be a disgrace not to be risked. But he might try, if he
would, with the camp followers, some of the stoutest of whom were chosen
to contend with him. Of these he laid no less than sixteen, in
succession, on the ground.
Here was a man worth having in the ranks. Some gifts were given him, and
he was told that he might enlist, if he chose; a privilege he was quick
to accept. The next day the peasant, happy in the thought of being a
soldier, was seen among a crowd of recruits, dancing and exulting in
rustic fashion, while his head towered above them all.
The emperor, who was passing in the march, looked at him with interest
and approval, and as he rode onward the new recruit ran up to his horse,
and followed him on foot during a long and rapid journey without the
least appearance of fatigue.
This remarkable endurance astonished Severus. "Thracian," he said, "are
you prepared to wrestle after your race?"
"Ready and willing," answered the youth, with alacrity.
Some of the strongest soldiers of the army were now selected and pitted
against him, and he overthrew seven of them in rapid succession. The
emperor, delighted with this matchless display of vigor and agility,
presented him with a golden collar in reward, and ordered that he should
be placed in the horse-guards that formed his personal escort.
The new recruit, Maximin by name, was a true barbarian, though born in
the empire. His father was a Goth, his mother of the nation of the
Alani. But he had judgment and shrewdness, and a valor equal to his
strength, and soon advanced in the favor of the emperor, who was a good
judge of merit. Fierce and impetuous by nature, experience of the world
taught him to restrain these qualities, and he advanced in position
until he attained the rank of centurion.
After the death of Severus the Thracian served with equal fidelity under
his son Caracalla, whose favor and esteem he won. During the short
reign of the profligate and effeminate Elagabalus, Maximin withdrew
from the court, but he returned when Alexander Severus, one of the
noblest of Roman emperors, came to the throne. The new monarch was
familiar with his ability and the incidents of his unusual career, and
raised him to the responsible post of tribune of the fourth legion,
which, under his rigid care, soon became the best disciplined in the
whole army. He was the favorite of the soldiers under his command, who
bestowed on their gigantic leader the names of Ajax and Hercules, and
rejoiced as he steadily rose in rank under the discriminating judgment
of the emperor. Step by step he was advanced until he reached the
highest rank in the army, and, but for the evident marks of his savage
origin, the emperor might have given his own sister in marriage to the
son of his favorite general.
The incautious emperor was nursing a serpent. The favors poured upon the
Thracian peasant failed to secure his fidelity, and only nourished his
ambition. He began to aspire to the highest place in the empire, which
had been won by many soldiers before him. Licentiousness and profligacy
had sapped the strength of the army during the weak preceding reigns,
and Alexander sought earnestly to overcome this corruption and restore
the rigid ancient discipline. It was too great a task for one of his
lenient disposition. The soldiers were furious at his restrictions, many
mutinies broke out, his officers were murdered, his authority was widely
insulted, he could scarcely repress the disorders that broke out in his
immediate presence.
This sentiment in the army offered the opportunity desired by Maximin.
He sent his emissaries among the soldiers to enhance their discontent.
For thirteen years, said these men, Rome had been governed by a weak
Syrian, the slave of his mother and the senate. It was time the empire
had a man at its head, a real soldier, who could add to its glory and
win new treasures for his followers.
Alexander had been engaged in a war with Persia. He had no sooner
returned than an outbreak in Germany forced him to hasten to the Rhine.
Here a large army was assembled, made up in part of new levies, whose
training in the art of war was given to the care of Maximin. The
discipline exacted by Alexander was no more acceptable to the soldiers
here than elsewhere, and the secret agents of the ambitious Thracian
found fertile ground for their insinuations.
At length all was ripe for the outbreak. One day--March 19, 239 A.D.--as
Maximin entered the field of exercise, the troops suddenly saluted him
as emperor, and silenced by violent exclamations his obstinate show of
refusal. The rebels rushed to the tent of Alexander and consummated
their conspiracy by striking him dead. His most faithful friends
perished with him; others were dismissed from court and army; and some
suffered the cruelest treatment from the unfeeling usurper. Thus it was
that the imperial dignity descended from the noblest citizens of Rome to
a peasant of a distant province of barbarian origin. It was one of the
most striking steps in the decline of the empire.
The new emperor was a man of extraordinary physical powers. He is said
to have been more than eight feet in height, while his strength and
appetite were in accordance with his gigantic stature. It is stated that
he could drink seven gallons of wine and eat thirty or forty pounds of
meat in a day, and could move a loaded wagon with his arms, break a
horse's leg with his fist, crumble stones in his hands, and tear up
small trees by the roots. His mental powers did not accord with his
physical ones. He was savage of aspect, ignorant of civilized arts,
destitute of accomplishments, and ruthless in disposition.
He had the virtues of the camp, and these had endeared him to the
soldiers, but his barbarian origin, his savage appearance, and his
rudeness and ignorance were the contempt of cultivated people, and had
gained him many rebuffs in his humbler days. He was now in a position to
revenge himself, not only on the haughty nobles who had treated him with
contempt, but even on former friends who were aware of his mean
origin,--of which he was heartily ashamed. For both these crimes many
were put to death, and the slaughter of several of his former
benefactors has stained the memory of Maximin with the basest
ingratitude.
Rome, in the strange progress of its history, had raised a savage to the
imperial seat, and it suffered accordingly. A scion of the despised
barbarians of the northern forests was now its emperor, and he visited
on the proud citizens of Rome the wrongs of his ancestors. The suspicion
and cruelty of Maximin were unbounded and unrelenting. A consular
senator named Magnus was accused of a conspiracy against his life.
Without trial or opportunity for defence Magnus was put to death, with
no less than four thousand supposed accomplices.
This was but an incident in a frightful reign of terror. The emperor
kept aloof from his capital, but he filled Rome, and the whole empire,
in fact, with spies and informers. The slightest accusation or suspicion
was sufficient for the blood-thirsty tyrant. On a mere unproved charge
Roman nobles of the highest descent--men who had served as consuls,
governed provinces, commanded armies, enjoyed triumphs--were seized,
chained on the public carriages, and borne away to the distant camp of
the low-born tyrant.
Here they found neither justice nor compassion. Exile, confiscation, and
ordinary execution were mild measures with Maximin. Some of the
unfortunates were clubbed to death, some exposed to wild beasts, some
sewed in the hides of slaughtered animals and left to perish. The worst
enormities of Caligula and Nero were rivalled by this rude soldier, who,
during the three years of his reign, disdained to visit either Rome or
Italy, and permitted no men of high birth, elegant accomplishments, or
knowledge of public business to approach his person. His imperial seat
shifted from a camp on the Rhine to one on the Danube, and his sole idea
of government seems to have been the execution of the suspected.
It was the great that suffered, and to this the people were indifferent.
But they all felt his avarice. The soldiers demanded rewards, and the
empire was drained to supply them. By a single edict all the stored-up
revenue of the cities was taken to supply Maximin's treasury. The
temples were robbed of their treasures, and the statues of gods, heroes,
and emperors were melted down and converted into coin. A general cry of
indignation against this impiety rose throughout the Roman world, and it
was evident that the end of this frightful tyranny was approaching.
An insurrection broke out in Africa. It was supported in Rome. But it
ended in failure, the Gordians, father and son, who headed it, were
slain, and the senate and nobles of Rome fell into mortal terror. They
looked for a frightful retribution from the imperial monster. With the
courage of despair they took the only step that remained: two new
emperors, Maximus and Balbinus, were appointed, and active steps taken
to defend Italy and Rome.
There was no time to be lost. News of these revolutionary movements had
roused in Maximin the rage of a wild beast. All who approached his
person were in danger, even his son and nearest friends. Under his
command was a large, well-disciplined, and experienced army. He was a
soldier of acknowledged valor and military ability. The rebels, with
their hasty levies and untried commanders, had everything to fear.
They took judicious steps. When the troops of Maximin, crossing the
Julian Alps, reached the borders of Italy, they were terrified by the
silence and desolation that prevailed. The villages and open towns had
been abandoned, the bridges destroyed, the cattle driven away, the
provisions removed, the country made a desert. The people had gathered
into the walled cities, which were plentifully provisioned and
garrisoned. The purpose of the senate was to weaken Maximin by famine
and retard him by siege.
The first city assailed was Aquileia, It was fully provisioned and
vigorously defended, the inhabitants preferring death on their walls to
death by the tyrant's order. Yet Rome was in imminent danger. Maximin
might at any moment abandon the siege of a frontier city and march upon
the capital. There was no army capable of opposing him. The fate of Rome
hung upon a thread.
The hand of an assassin cut that thread. The severity of the weather,
the growth of disease, the lack of food, had spread disaffection through
Maximin's army. Ignorant of the true state of affairs, many of the
soldiers feared that the whole empire was in arms against them. The
tyrant, vexed at the obstinate defence of Aquileia, visited his anger on
his men, and roused a stern desire for revenge. The end came soon. A
party of Praetorian guards, in dread for their wives and children, who
were in the camp of Alba, near Rome, broke into sudden revolt, entered
Maximin's tent, and killed him, his son, and the principal ministers of
his tyranny.
The whole army sympathized with this impulsive act. The heads of the
dead, borne on the points of spears, were shown the garrison, and at
once the gates were thrown open, the hungry troops supplied with food,
and a general fraternization took place. Joy in the fall of the tyrant
was universal throughout the empire, the two new emperors entered Rome
in a triumphal procession, people and nobles alike went wild with
enthusiasm, and the belief was entertained that a golden age was to
succeed the age of iron that had come to an end. Yet within three months
afterwards both the new emperors were massacred in the streets of Rome,
and the hoped-for era of happiness and prosperity vanished before the
swelling tide of oppression, demoralization, and decline.