The Historians' History of the World 06

In more senses than one the fall of the last of the Flavians marks the termination of an epoch. As Suetonius intimates, the empire was about to enter upon a period of better days. The century and a quarter through which it had just passed had been one of stress and disaster. Of the eleven emperors whose lives compassed the period, eight met with violent deaths. Under these conditions there must have been a feeling of uncertainty, of the instability of human affairs and human life, permeating the very air. It was pre-eminently a time when might made right, and except for the relatively brief periods when the good emperors Vespasian and Titus were in power, there was scarcely a time when any day might not logically enough be expected to bring forth a revolution. It required but a dagger thrust or the administration of a poisoned morsel of food to close a reign or a dynasty. And whether Nemesis came a few years earlier or a few years later was largely a matter of chance, and in most cases a matter of no great moment; since the new ruler was almost certain to be as bad as the last.

As we consider this story of despotic reigns and tragic endings, the first thought that comes to the mind is, Why was such a state of things tolerated? Having put down such a man as Tiberius, why did the Romans submit, even for a moment, to the rule of a Caligula? When such a character as Claudius had been removed from the scene, why should the stage be reset for a Nero? The answer is not hard to find. It is inherent in the anomalous political condition of the empire and the still more anomalous position of its ruler. The real fact is that the empire was no empire at all in the modern sense; from which it follows that the emperors had no such nominal position as the name of the title which we give them conveys to modern ears.

True our modern word “emperor” is the lineal descendant of the word “imperator”; just as “kaiser” and “czar” are the lineal descendants of the word “cæsar.” But modern usage has greatly modified the significance of these words; and in dealing with the history of the early Roman Empire it must constantly be borne in mind that Cæsar was originally only the family name of the great dictator and the first five imperators, having at first no greater significance than any other patronymic; and that the word “imperator” meant and originally implied nothing more than general or commander-in-chief of the army.

It will be recalled that Augustus—shrewd, practical politician that he was—ardently deprecated the use of any word implying “lord” or “master” in connection with his name. He was the imperator of the army, the princeps or leader of the senate, and the high pontiff (pontifex maximus) of church and state. The practical powers which were either previously associated with these offices or were gradually clustered about them by the genius of Augustus, gave that astute leader all the power in fact that any modern emperor possesses. But while exercising such truly imperial functions, Augustus remained in theory an ordinary citizen, all his offices subject to the mandate of the people. He lived unostentatiously; conducted himself with the utmost deference towards his fellow-citizens; kept his actions for the most part strictly within the letter of the law—albeit himself promulgating the laws; and went through, even for the fifth time, the form of being appointed to his high office for a period of ten years.

He gained a hold on the affections of the people, as well as a dominating influence over their affairs. They rejoiced to do him honour, conferring on him not only the titles and dignities already mentioned, but the specific title of Augustus, in addition. Yet it must not be for a moment forgotten that no one of these titles conveyed to the mind of the Roman people the impression that would have been conveyed by the word “king.” Had Augustus even in his very heyday of power dared to assume that title, it may well be doubted whether he would not have met the fate of his illustrious uncle.

And if this was true of Augustus, it was equally true of his successors in the first century. To be sure, they succeeded to power much as one king succeeds another. Augustus chose Tiberius as his successor, and Tiberius assumed the reins of power quite unopposed. But it must be noted that in several cases, as in that of Tiberius and again when Nero succeeded Claudius, the artful machinations employed to keep secret the death of the imperator until his chosen successor could take steps to fortify himself with army and senate, implied in themselves the somewhat doubtful character of the title to succession.