CHAPTER VIII

HADRIAN

I.

THE PROBLEM OF THE EMPIRE

THE year AD 117 marks an epoch in the history of the Mediterranean world. For in this year the Roman Empire, in which that world was politically unified, had reached its highest point of development after ages of continuous growth. From eastern Armenia to western Morocco, from northern Britain to southern Egypt, and to the borders of the Sahara and the Arabian Desert, Rome and its Emperor ruled lands and seas. Only a short time before, Roman troops had beaten the might of Parthia from the field and had reached the Persian Gulf; and their victorious Imperator, Trajan, had dreamed of repeating Alexander's march to India, only to acquiesce in giving up the project on account of his age. Deserts guarded almost all the southern borders; the coasts of the Atlantic Ocean were alive with Roman ships; the Northern frontier, in Britain, and from the North Sea to the northern shore of the Black Sea, was everywhere strengthened and secured; beyond that line there no longer was an empire of ‘barbarians’ from which danger could suddenly threaten, while behind that line the armies everywhere stood ready to attack. It is true that in the previous year, after the victorious march through Mesopotamia, serious setbacks had followed, and the rising of the Jews and Mesopotamians might well cause grave anxiety. But energetic advances and the final overthrow of the rebels had established the security of Syria and Asia Minor and the lasting safety of the whole Empire against attacks from the only great Power that lay outside the area of Roman sovereignty; and within this world Rome stands without a rival, while at the same time wide stretches of fresh territory had been won for the Empire.

The task of creating security also in this area, which had been easily acquired and long maintained by Alexander and the Seleucids, and of opening it up to Rome’s authority, was of the widest range and of the highest importance: if it were successfully achieved, the idea of the world empire, the Orbis Romanus, would seem to become a reality, the peace, the Pax Romana, which Rome could give to the civilized humanity of this world together with its laws and customs would be made permanent: Rome’s sway over the world would be assured for ever. But if now in the primeval East, with its apparently alien and indissoluble culture, there were added to the Empire even more areas of continuous inland territory than had been gained along all frontiers since Caesar’s and Augustus’ days, these masses of inland territory might well outweigh the narrow coastal lands of the Mediterranean. The work of opening up, organizing and administering this region might well take up too much of the energies of the Roman-Italic ruling class of the Empire, which, even without this burden, was already far too few for the task. The body of provincial citizens, who possessed inferior rights, might be menacingly reinforced, as the old coastal empire of the Romans thus threatened to turn definitively into a continental Empire.

Almost up to the time when Trajan died (August, AD 117), calm and security reigned within the mighty Empire: fullness of achievement, glory of unequalled power still characterized his régime. But would succeeding emperors also be able to make good for Rome, once the true centre of the great amphitheatre of the Mediterranean nation and still its heart, its stubborn claim to be for ever mistress of the world, and to enable Italy to be the bearer of sovereignty and sharer in its profits? Or must they give place to natives of the provinces grown strong in the Pax Romana, who will no longer stand as spectators, but will press for equality of rights with their masters? The Empire, not threatened from without, secure in itself, self-sufficient, can unfold its gigantic possibilities even to excess, can radiate its power even into scarce-known distances, if only centralization in Rome does not grow too rigid. But what if the outside world nevertheless attacks the Empire? Will it produce rulers who can meet the attack with decisive strength? These rulers must do more than talk of unity and peace within the Empire, of justice, mildness and consideration, of patience and calm, prosperity, happiness and security; they must make these things real, must exert themselves everywhere in the Empire in person, joyously and unrestingly, to awake life, to resolve oppositions, to preserve the balance of forces in healthy tension and good order; all this with the general purpose of securing that status felicissimus, that status optimus civitatis of which Augustus would have had himself named the creator.

Everywhere an unexampled multiplicity was observable, as of soil and climate, so of the countless peoples, of their economic arrangements and social organization, of their languages and intellectual capabilities, of their tradition and present mental attitude. Now came the question, whether the creative power of Trajan’s successors would be able to make prevail the Roman will, Roman discipline, the Greek view of life and construction put upon the world, long ago taken over by Rome and adapted to Roman purposes, in order by these means to convert the inhabitants of the Empire into Romans to the very depths of their being, and so to make the Empire grow into a complete whole, a true community of lives. Or will the attempts to form the new unity of a Mediterranean people out of a multiplicity of heterogeneous elements have only this result—that those who were once conquered and are now peacefully assimilated, educating themselves by the Graeco-Roman ideal and allowing themselves, in outward form, to be reduced to one level, actually develop and steel their own powers, in order to become victors even over the inner world of the rulers? If the rulers continue Trajan’s tolerant régime, there is serious danger that the genius populi Romani may be transformed into something essentially foreign. The period which has been praised since Aelius Aristides as the happiest in Mediterranean history is a century of external brilliance but full of grievous tragedy, a period of transition to a new world-order. One only of the rulers, Hadrian, recognized his task and strove for a great accomplishment; he failed, despite all the endeavors which he made even beyond the measure of his powers. His successors, more passive natures, did not possess his powers, did not reach the heights of his achievement, and the last of them pursued new aims. Seen from the point of view of older tradition, it is an uninterrupted sinking into the depths, a breach, the rise of something new; the power of the individual ruler can no longer effectively resist that inevitable and logical movement of forces.

The traditions concerning the five successors of Trajan are of quite different sorts and unequal in their value, but rich enough to let us describe these figures, indeed to penetrate deeply into the essential nature of almost all of them. It is true that one cannot so certainly succeed in determining their personal effect in the State, their share in the fate of the Empire. If the restless wandering and creative activity of Hadrian (AD 117-138) can be followed in all the provinces of the Empire, what Antoninus Pius (AD 138-161) did for that Empire is more difficult to grasp, since he never left Rome and Italy. The personality of Marcus Aurelius (161-180) and his struggle with the enemy in the North and with all the bitter stress at home are revealed by a multitude of most valuable pieces of evidence, among which his own Meditations, the Marcus’ column in Rome, and the Roman Empire coins are conspicuous. On the other hand, his adopted brother, Lucius Verus (161-169), can hardly be discerned in the darkness which enfolds him: but Marcus’ own son, Marcus Aurelius Commodus (who bore the title Augustus from 177 and was sole ruler from AD 180 until 192) appears in a strong light; yet because that light is indeed all too strong, he also sets us riddles enough to solve.

II.

THE ACCESSION OF HADRIAN