Part 27
The accession of Hadrian to the throne is surrounded by a mystery which must forever remain impenetrable. Gibbon repeats the gossip which the ancient historians handed down as veritable fact, when he says: "We may readily believe that the father of his country hesitated whether he ought to intrust the various and doubtful character of his kinsman Hadrian with sovereign power. In his last moments, the arts of the Empress Plotina either fixed the irresolution of Trajan, or boldly supposed a fictitious adoption; the truth of which could not be safely disputed, and Hadrian was peaceably acknowledged as his lawful successor." Dion asserted on the authority of his father, who was Governor of Cilicia, where Trajan died, that the adoption never took place and that Plotina forged the letters which were sent to Rome, apparently from Trajan, informing the Senate of his choice. Some even went so far as to say that, the moment after the emperor's death, he not having named Hadrian, Plotina caused a man to be placed in his bed to simulate his dying voice saying that he appointed Hadrian his successor.
This is a flimsy story, and rather suggests the triviality of the minds of those who concocted it than it impairs the character of Plotina. Hadrian had married Sabina, the daughter of Matilda, who was in turn the daughter of Marciana, Trajan's sister. Moreover, the emperor had showered favors upon him, and appointed him to the highest offices. To whom else should Trajan leave the Empire? Nevertheless, it is probable that Hadrian was greatly liked by the powerful empress, and she may have shown a deep interest in the adoption of the youth by her husband. In courts, where there are of necessity jealousy and rival ambitions, from such innocent facts will formidable scandals grow. Every other mention of her is evidence against the insinuation that the maternal affection of Plotina for Hadrian was tinctured with love of a stronger nature.
Hadrian's mother was a native of Cadiz. How she was held in the esteem of her imperial son is indicated in the following letter which he wrote her: "All hail, very dear and excellent mother. Whatever you ask of the gods for me, I ask the same for you. By Hercules, I am delighted that my acts seem to you worthy of praise. To-day is my birthday; we must take supper together. Come, then, well dressed, with my sisters. Sabina, who is at our villa, has sent her share for the family repast."
Through the meagre and inconclusive accounts we have of the private affairs of Hadrian, the allegation is circulated that his life with Sabina was far from being an amicable one. The empress was said to be of a morose and sour disposition, and Hadrian is even accused of having rid himself of her by the help of poison. The latter is a calumny unworthy of serious attention. It is altogether impossible to believe that, even if the chasm between the two were as wide as is reported, the emperor would not have sought relief in divorce rather than in murder. However praiseworthy may have been Hadrian's character as an emperor, if Sabina stood upon her rights as a wife, she had every reason for holding him in supreme contempt; for common as may have been the vice to which there seems to be little doubt Hadrian was addicted, it is difficult to believe that any woman retaining the least respect for herself could at the same time retain any regard for such a husband. The state of affairs between this imperial couple may have been very unpleasant; but at least a semblance of harmony was preserved. Hadrian even protected his wife; when Suetonius the historian in some way failed in proper respect for Sabina, the emperor immediately banished him from the court. The empress also seems to have accompanied her husband on many of his extensive journeys. We have an interesting proof and record of her having been with him in Egypt. She ascended the Nile as far as Thebes and visited the statue of Memnon, the son of Aurora, who was reported to sing every morning in honor of his radiant mother's return. Balbilla the poetess caused three of her verses to be engraved on the leg of the statue, in which she records this visit. They are dated the twentieth and twenty-first of November, 130. It seems that the god did not show proper respect for Sabina, nor did he in the least stand in awe of "the angry countenance of the empress," for on the occasion of her first visit he was not in a singing mood.
From her portraits, one would not judge Sabina to have been of a morose and bitter disposition. There is in the Vatican a statue of the empress represented as Venus Genitrix, while there is also a bust of her in the Capitol Museum. If these are faithful likenesses, it is as difficult to believe that Sabina was of an unamiable disposition as it is to understand Hadrian's preference for Antinous. In connection with this subject Gibbon says that, down to the time of Hadrian, Claudius was the only emperor whose taste in love matters was at all correct. This being the case, it is only just to say that, if example could afford it, the empresses had ample excuse for the most flagrant irregularities recorded of them.
Antoninus Pius was adopted by Hadrian and designated his successor, without the aid of any woman whatsoever--except that Sabina failed to provide an occupant for the throne by the act of maternity.
The wife of Antoninus was Annia Galeria Faustina. She had borne him four children; but at the time of his accession only one daughter, named after her mother, survived. The annals of the period of this reign are extremely meagre and unsatisfactory. It has been said that while the unanimous praises that are bestowed upon the virtues of Antoninus earn for him in pagan history the place held by Saint Louis among Christian kings, his political career is so uncertain that, as emperor, he appears before us a half-effaced figure, whose outlines are wholly indistinct.
Faustina the Elder did not live long to enjoy the dignity of empress; but in private life she had established for herself such a reputation, if all accounts be true, that she simply added one more to the list of immoral empresses who had disgraced the palace. Yet it must be admitted that these reflections upon her character are extremely ill-founded, and indeed there is evidence to the contrary which tends to make them seem absurd. Fronto, a philosopher of the period, pronounced a eulogy upon her, concerning which Antoninus wrote: "In the discourse which thou hast devoted to my Faustina I have found even more truth than eloquence. For it is the fact--yes, by the gods! I would rather live with her on the desert island of Gyaros than without her in the palace." This is not merely affection; from a man of Antoninus's character, it indicates an esteem which it would have been impossible for him to cherish, or even express, had Faustina been the wanton that the unreliable memoirs of the time describe her.
After the death of his wife, Antoninus refused to marry again, though he consoled himself with a concubine; he would not impart to another woman the honors and the position which he had rejoiced to share with Faustina. Indeed, such devoted affection is shown in the manner in which this emperor revered the memory of his deceased wife, that it would be one of the beautiful things in history were it not for the fact that the suspicion fastened upon her reputation, though very improbable, cannot be entirely eradicated, for lack of evidence to the contrary. Antoninus built a temple to her honor, and after his death the Senate reconsecrated it: _To the god Antoninus and to the goddess Faustina_. The emperor also did what was far more advantageous to his people, and was an equal proof of his love for Faustina: he established in the name of his wife a charitable foundation for the support and education of girls. There is in existence a medal bearing the empress's image, and on the reverse a representation of Antoninus surrounded by young children, with this inscription: _Puelloe Faustinianoe_.
When Hadrian appointed Antoninus as his successor, he obliged the latter to adopt as his son Marcus Annius Verus, known in history and in philosophy as Marcus Aurelius. The mother of Marcus Aurelius was Domitia Lucilla, a lady of consular rank and a descendant of Domitius Afer. She seems to have been a woman in every way an ornament to these better times. In his _Meditations_, the imperial philosopher acknowledges that from his mother he inherited "piety, and beneficence, and abstinence not only from evil deeds, but even from evil thoughts; and further, simplicity of life far removed from the habits of the rich." One would like to dwell on the character of this sweet-natured, pure-hearted Lucilla. It would be an inestimable boon to the interests of history and also of moral philosophy if we had a biography of the mother of a good emperor; but unfortunately the pitiable historians of the time have given us instead scandals regarding Faustina. There are, however, one or two little incidents recorded which warrant us in the belief that if we only knew more of her life we should have in Lucilla a name and a portrait worthy of a place among those of the most honored women of the world. She encouraged her son in his philosophic studies; but when his enthusiasm carried him to such an excess of self-discipline that he purposed to sleep on bare boards, his mother prevailed on him to indulge himself with the luxury of a sheepskin rug.
Marcus Aurelius expresses his thankfulness that "though it was my mother's fate to die young, she spent the last years of her life with me." In one of his letters to Fronto, he describes a day spent in the country during the vintage. "When I returned home," he says, "I studied a little, but not to much advantage. I had a long talk with my mother, who was lying on her couch." Those talks with a mother from whom he had learned to hate the thought of evil were of inestimable value to his character, and thus have not been wholly lost to the world.
On one occasion, Lucilla was noticed by Antoninus Pius in the act of earnest prayer before the image of Apollo. "What think you she is praying for so intently?" insinuated a mischief maker named Valerius Omulus; "it is that you may die, and her son reign in your stead." Antoninus ignored the base suggestion in silent contempt. It is very possible that Lucilla was praying for her son's reign, but for the worthiness of its character rather than for the speediness of its commencement.
Unfortunately, though it may not be necessary to believe all that is said against her, it is at least very apparent that Faustina the wife of Marcus Aurelius was not such a woman as Lucilla his mother. Gibbon sums up in the following paragraph the whole story as it may be gleaned from the very indifferent ancient authorities:
"Faustina, the daughter of Pius and the wife of Marcus, has been as much celebrated for her gallantries as for her beauty. The grave simplicity of the philosopher was ill calculated to engage her wanton levity, or to fix that unbounded passion for variety which often discovered merit in the meanest of mankind. The Cupid of the ancients was, in general, a very sensual deity; and the amours of an empress, as they exact on her side the plainest advances, are seldom susceptible of much sentimental delicacy, Marcus was the only man in the Empire who seemed ignorant or insensible of the irregularities of Faustina; which, according to the prejudices of every age, reflected some disgrace on the injured husband. He promoted several of her lovers to posts of honor and profit, and, during a connection of thirty years, invariably gave her proofs of the most tender confidence and of a respect which ended not with her life. In his _Meditations_, he thanks the gods who had bestowed on him a wife so faithful, so gentle, and of such a wonderful simplicity of manners. The obsequious Senate, at his earnest request, declared her a goddess. She was represented in her temples with the attributes of Juno, Venus, and Ceres; and it was decreed that, on the day of their nuptials, the youth of either sex should pay their vows before the altar of their chaste patroness."
It would be a preposterous undertaking to accept a brief for Faustina; and yet, judging such evidence as we have in the light of common sense, one is inclined to acquit her of some charges, or at least to demand for her a verdict of "not proven." Who are the witnesses against her? Capitolinus, who wrote the life of Marcus Aurelius, is one. He wrote in the time of Diocletian, one hundred and twenty years after the events. Surely the lapse of time will to a certain degree depreciate the value of the evidence; and then Capitolinus is an exceedingly poor biographer. Dion Cassius is the principal witness; but it is very apparent that Dion Cassius was accustomed to report indiscriminately every bit of scandal he heard about anybody. He was constitutionally malignant. It is very doubtful if any modern jury, knowing his character, would convict a petty thief on the evidence of Dion Cassius. Because Commodus, the son of Faustina, developed an abnormal love for bloody sports and manifested a strong regard for the heroes of the arena, malicious tongues asserted that he was the son of a gladiator; but the strong resemblance which may be traced in the statues and bust of Marcus Aurelius and Commodus is sufficient to refute this part of the charge. This likeness is also attested by Fronto, who, though he may have desired to compliment the emperor, was assuredly a man of too much character to adopt this particular method if he knew Faustina to be the woman she is represented. Then again, if her habits were as vicious as they are described, it is absolutely inconceivable that her husband should have remained in ignorance of the fact; it would imply that he must have been nothing more or less than an imbecile, which Marcus Aurelius decidedly was not. If, on the other hand, he knew of his wife's promiscuous amours, it is incredible that he should have had the effrontery to laud his wife's faithfulness and virtue before the public; it is inconceivable that he should have manifested toward her such confidence and esteem in their private relations. Our judgment is influenced more by the treatment she received from her husband than by the venomous testimony of Dion.
One of the charges against Faustina is that she abetted the conspiracy of Avidius Cassius by offering him her hand in the event of her husband's being slain. This even the biographer of Cassius denies, and quotes a letter of Faustina's in proof.
There must, however, have been some cause for these reports of the empress's conduct, even though they are greatly exaggerated. We may take it for granted that Faustina was not worthy of her noble husband. It is very possible that she had little regard for his philosophical maxims and less liking for his austerities. She may have been more forcibly attracted by the handsome appearance and gay manner of Verus, her husband's colleague in the Empire; but that she was so absolutely wanton as the ancient anecdotists describe requires no contravention of the principles of historical criticism to disbelieve.
The letters of Faustina to Marcus Aurelius were preserved by Vulcatius Gallicanus, and Victor Duruy says they are those of an empress, a wife, and a mother. She often accompanied her husband on his many trying expeditions, and thus gained from the soldiers the title of "Mother of the Camps." It was on such a journey, at the foot of Mount Taurus, that she died. There has been preserved a bas-relief which represents Faustina carried by a winged being in human form from the funeral pyre to heaven; the emperor sits below and points out to his daughter the apotheosis of her mother, while he himself follows the departing figure with affectionate eyes. At the theatre, her statue, formed of gold, was placed in the position which she had been accustomed to occupy. To honor her memory, a new foundation for the support of the daughters of indigent parents was instituted; and at the Villa Albani there is another bas-relief, which represents Faustina surrounded by young girls and distributing among them corn, which they receive in the folds of their dresses.
In the period of the Antonines, paganism was at its best. It was then afforded a magnificent opportunity to show how far in the direction of social progress and moral development the human race could be carried under its influence. It was on its trial before the evolutionary forces of the universe. What is the verdict? That paganism has disappeared cannot be said; for much that was essential to the system is still inherent in the prevailing religion of the civilized world to-day. But how did the ancient system of religion respond to the quest for those influences which make for human happiness, both for the man and the woman--for here there can be no distinction? There is much in the old system, as it answers for itself in the period under discussion, that is extremely satisfactory, much that will compare most favorably with like conditions in modern times. We have seen how a social conscience was evolved, and how most admirable methods were adopted for the purpose of supporting poor girls and boys. It has been noticed how in this period life was secure, happy, and beautiful. The conditions of slavery were ameliorated, so that involuntary servitude became, in some respects, less severe than it was in Christian lands during the last century. Woman's legal position was greatly improved, affording her an independence, all things considered, which she did not enjoy during the Middle Ages. This banner age of paganism was also capable of producing such men as Pliny and the Antonines. Unfortunately, history lacks such records as would reveal the best examples of the women who graced this period. Instead of the noblest, we have only the most conspicuous. We are shown the Faustinas, because they lived in the palace; but, notwithstanding the excellence of the husbands of these women, it is true that a palace is the least promising soil for the cultivation of moral beauty. Yet in Plotina and Lucilla we find such characters as warrant the belief that in humbler walks there were many women whose lives would not have suffered severe criticism if they had been tried by the principles of the modern morality.
Much was accomplished under the ancient system; but the time exhibited the best possibilities of paganism. It could do no better; and it soon prepared to leave the field in the possession of a victor. It could not soften the heart and thus dispense with its cruelties. It could not emancipate all its slaves; it contained in itself no indictment of slavery. It recognized that all men are of one blood, but it did not evolve the idea of universal brotherhood or the Golden Rule. It had no argument for morality which could appeal to the unphilosophic common multitude. In these things it was weighed and found wanting; for these reasons it could not perpetuate itself.
XIV
THE PASSING OF PAGANISM
From the reign of Commodus must be dated the beginning of the Decline. From now on, two influences are at work undermining the structure of the ancient Empire; we see the double process of disintegration and conversion. Pagan civilization had finished its day and must make way for the dawn of a new era. The Roman Empire fell to pieces because the sword, which was the only bond by which its heterogeneous conquests could be held together, became insubordinate to the political authority. After the second century, the army was rarely led to new foreign victories. It became the instrument of revolt; it bartered the Empire, and supported or assassinated adventitious claimants for the throne at its wild caprice. At last, the old Roman spirit having entirely departed, the barbarians made an easy prey of the decaying body.
In the meantime the gods, who, so far as their effective existence was concerned, had been long since discredited, were deposed from the minds of an increasing number of the people, to make room for a new and purer faith. But the rise of Christianity did not follow the brilliant day of paganism without an intervening night. Literature, art, and the science of domestic and social life deteriorated, as European society fell to the rude habits of the dark ages of feudalism. In this closing chapter, it is our purpose to follow the fortunes of pagan woman life down to the time when, under Constantine, Christianity became the State religion.
In the accession of Commodus is seen the return to the rule of that despotism, joined with moral insanity, from which Rome had been free since the days of Domitian. The Empire was again allowed to take care of itself, while the emperor occupied himself with abominable indulgences and murderous executions.
Under the preceding emperors, moral courtiers had been in favor. Now, the opposite example was set, and the women as well as the men were much more eager to rush into profligacy than they had been, under Marcus Aurelius, to take up philosophy. The two empresses were leaders in the new fashion. Crispina, the wife of Commodus, either carried her intrigues too far or in some other way made herself obnoxious to her husband, for she was banished to Capri and shortly afterward put to death. It is noticeable that the worst men were the quickest to punish laxity in the conduct of their own wives. They were more suspicious; they had a more alert sense of amorous possibilities; they were in a better position to discover clues; and they were devoid of conscience, which, at least, might have dictated to them a policy of fair play.
Lucilla, the daughter of Marcus Aurelius and the sister of Commodus, inherited nothing of her grandmother's character with her name. Atavism in her case was not effectual. She had been the spouse of her father's colleague, Verus, and she retained her imperial honors from this connection; so that she occupied the emperor's box at the theatre and had the sacred fire, the symbol of majesty, carried before her as she passed through the streets. Her lovers were numerous.
Apart from such failings as those sensual indulgences so customary among the Romans, the reign of Commodus for the first three years was fairly respectable. He had as yet shown no symptom of mercilessness; but one night, as he was traversing an ill-lighted passage in the palace, a Senator rushed upon him with the words: "The Senate sends you this." The threat saved the emperor's life, the guards at once overpowering the assassin. The plot owed its origin to Lucilla. Dissatisfied with the second place in the Empire, the misguided woman designed, upon the death of her brother, to place on the throne one of her lovers, with whom she would reign in concert. That her destined accomplice was not Claudius Pompeianus, her respectable though somewhat aged husband, may be assumed from the fact that he was not privy to the plot. Lucilla was punished with exile and, later, with death. From this time, Commodus gave rein to his cruel disposition without restraint; the slightest suspicion on his part, or an insinuation on that of his favorites, sufficed to authorize an execution. Rome had once been at the mercy of a buffoon who was deluded with the idea that he possessed a heavenly voice; she was now ravaged by a gladiator who believed himself to be a second Hercules. His extravagance being enormous, and the execution of the rich being the easiest way to recuperate the treasury, many women as well as men lost their lives on account of their wealth.