Caesar and Christ

An unexpected ally saved the Empire in Asia. Odenathus, who governed Palmyra as a vassal of Rome, drove the Persians back across Mesopotamia, defeated them at Ctesiphon (261), and declared himself king of Syria, Cilicia, Arabia, Cappadocia, and Armenia. He was assassinated in 266; his youthful son succeeded to his titles, his widow to his power. Like Cleopatra, from whom she claimed descent, Zenobia combined beauty of person with statesmanly capacity and many accomplishments of mind. She studied Greek literature and philosophy, learned Latin, Egyptian, and Syriac, and wrote a history of the East. Apparently connecting chastity with vigor, she allowed herself only such sexual relations as were needed for motherhood.²⁰ She inured herself to hardship and fatigue, enjoyed the dangers of the chase and marched on foot for miles at the head of her troops. She governed with sternness and wisdom, made the philosopher Longinus her premier, gathered scholars, poets, and artists at her court, and beautified her capital with Greco-Roman-Asiatic palaces whose ruins startle the desert traveler today. Feeling that the Empire was breaking up, she planned a new dynasty and realm, brought Cappadocia, Galatia, and most of Bithynia under her control, fitted out a great army and fleet, conquered Egypt, and took Alexandria after a siege that destroyed half the population. The subtle “Queen of the East” pretended that she was proceeding as the agent of the Roman power; but all the world knew that her victories were an act in the spacious drama of Rome’s collapse.

Seeing the wealth and weakness of the Empire, the barbarians poured down into the Balkans and Greece. While the Sarmatians pillaged again the cities on the Black Sea, a branch of the Goths sailed in 500 ships through the Hellespont into the Aegean, took isle after isle, anchored in the Piraeus, and sacked Athens, Argos, Sparta, Corinth, and Thebes (267). While their navy brought some of the marauders back to the Black Sea, another group fought its way overland towards its Danube home. Gallienus met them at the river Nestus in Thrace, and won a costly victory; but a year later he was murdered by his troops. In 269 another Gothic horde descended into Macedonia, besieged Thessalonica, and pillaged Greece, Rhodes, Cyprus, and the Ionian coast. The Emperor Claudius II rescued Thessalonica, drove the Goths up the Vardar valley, and defeated them with great slaughter at Naissus, the modern Nish (269). If he had lost that battle no army would have intervened between the Goths and Italy.

III. THE ECONOMIC DECLINE

Political anarchy accelerated economic disintegration, and economic decline promoted political decay; each was the cause and effect of the other. Roman statesmanship had never found a healthy economic life for Italy; and perhaps the narrow plains of the peninsula have never provided an adequate base for the soaring aims of the Italian state. The production of cereals was discouraged by the competition of cheap grains from Sicily, Africa, and Egypt, and the great vineyards were losing their markets to provincial wines. Farmers complained that high taxes consumed their precarious profits and left them too little to keep the drainage and irrigation canals in repair; the canals filled up, the marshes spread, and malaria weakened the population of the Campagna and Rome. Large tracts of fertile land had been withdrawn from cultivation for residential estates. The absentee owners of the latifundia exploited labor and the soil to the limit of tolerance, and absolved themselves by philanthropies in the towns; urban architecture and games profited while the countryside grew desolate. Many peasant proprietors and free rural workers abandoned the farms for the cities, leaving Italian agriculture for the most part to latifundia manned by listless slaves. But the latifundia themselves were ruined by the Pax Romana, the dearth of wars of conquest in the first and second centuries, and the consequent fall in the supply, and rise in the cost, of slaves. Compelled to lure free labor back to the land, the great landlords divided their holdings into units which they leased to coloni, “cultivators”; they required from these tenants a small money rent or a tenth of the produce, and a period of unpaid labor in the owner’s villa or on his private domain. In many cases landlords found it profitable to emancipate their slaves and change them into coloni. In the third century the owners, harassed by invasion and revolution in the cities, took more and more to living in their villas; these were fortified into castles, and were gradually transformed into medieval châteaux. ^*

The lack of slaves strengthened for a time the position of free labor in industry as well as in agriculture. But while the resources of the rich were consumed by war and government, the poverty of the poor did not decrease.²² Wages were from six to eleven, prices some thirty-three, per cent of comparative wages and prices in the United States of the early twentieth century.²³ The class struggle was becoming more violent, for the army, recruited from the provincial poor, often joined in the attack upon wealth, and felt that its services to the state justified confiscatory taxation for donatives, or more direct pillaging of the well to do.²⁴ Industry suffered as commerce declined. The export trade of Italy fell as the provinces graduated from customers to competitors; barbarian raids and piracy made trade routes as unsafe as before Pompey; depreciated currencies and uncertain prices discouraged long-term enterprise. The extension of the frontier having ceased, Italy could no longer prosper by supplying or exploiting an expanding realm. Once Italy had collected the bullion of conquered lands and grown rich on the robbery; now money was migrating to the more industrialized Hellenistic provinces, and Italy grew poorer while the rising wealth of Asia Minor forced the replacement of Rome with an Eastern capital. Italian industry was thrown back upon its domestic market, and found the people too poor to buy the goods they could make.²⁵ Internal commerce was hampered by brigands, rising taxes, and the deterioration of roads through lack of slaves. The villas became more self-sufficient in industry, and barter competed with money trade. Large-scale production gave way year by year to small shops supplying chiefly a local demand.

Financial difficulties entered. The precious metals were running low: the gold mines of Thrace and the silver mines of Spain had reduced their yield, and Dacia, with its gold, would soon be surrendered by Aurelian. Much gold and silver had been consumed in art and ornament. Faced with this dearth when war was almost continuous, the emperors from Septimius Severus onward repeatedly debased the currency to pay for state expenses and military supplies. Under Nero the alloy in the denarius was ten per cent, under Commodus thirty, under Septimius fifty. Caracalla replaced it with the antoniniamis, containing fifty per cent silver; by 260 its silver content had sunk to five per cent.²⁶ The government mints issued unprecedented quantities of cheap coin; in many instances the state compelled the acceptance of these at their face value instead of their actual worth, while it insisted that taxes should be paid in goods or gold.²⁷ Prices rose rapidly; in Palestine they increased one thousand per cent between the first and third centuries;²⁸ in Egypt inflation ran out of control, so that a measure of wheat that had cost eight drachmas in the first century cost 120,000 drachmas at the end of the third.²⁹ Other provinces suffered much less; but in most of them inflation ruined a large part of the middle class, nullified trust funds and charitable foundations, rendered all business discouragingly precarious, and destroyed a considerable portion of the trading and investment capital upon which the economic life of the Empire depended.

The emperors after Pertinax were not displeased by this attrition of the aristocracy and the bourgeoisie. They felt the hostility of the Senatorial class and the great merchants to their alien origin, their martial despotism, and their exactions; the war of Senate and emperor, interrupted from Nerva to Aurelius, was renewed; and by donatives, public works, and doles, the rulers deliberately based their powers upon the favor of the army, the proletariat, and the peasantry.

The Empire suffered only less than Italy. Carthage and north Africa, farthest from the invaders, flourished; but Egypt decayed under destructive factionalism, Caracalla’s massacre, Zenobia’s conquest, high taxes, listless forced labor, and Rome’s annual exaction of grain. Asia Minor and Syria had borne invasion and pillaging, but their ancient and patient industries had survived all tribulations. Greece, Macedonia, and Thrace had been devastated by the barbarians, and Byzantium had not recovered from Septimius’ siege. As war brought Roman garrisons and supplies to the German frontier new cities rose along the rivers—Vienna, Karlsburg, Strasbourg, Mainz. Gaul had been disordered and discouraged by German attacks; sixty of her cities had been sacked; most of her towns and cities were shrinking within new walls, and were abandoning the broad straight streets of Roman design for the more easily defended irregular alleys of early antiquity and the Middle Ages. In Britain, too, the cities were becoming smaller, the villas larger;³⁰ class war and high taxation had destroyed wealth or driven it into rural concealment. The Empire had begun with urbanization and civilization; it was ending in reruralization and barbarism.

IV. THE TWILIGHT OF PAGANISM

The cultural graph of the third century follows loosely the curve of declining wealth and power. Nevertheless, in these tragic years we have the rise of notational algebra, the highest names in Roman jurisprudence, the finest example of ancient literary criticism, some of Rome’s most majestic architecture, the oldest romantic novels, the greatest of mystic philosophers.

The Greek Anthology summarizes the life of Diophantus of Alexandria (A.D. 250) with algebraic humor: his boyhood lasted one sixth of his life, his beard grew after one twelfth more, he married after another seventh, his son was born five years later and lived to half his father’s age, and the father died four years after his son—therefore at the age of eighty-four.³¹ Of his works the chief survivor is the Arithmetic a—a treatise on algebra. It solves determinate equations of the first degree, determinate quadratic equations, and indeterminate equations up to the sixth degree. For the unknown quantity which we denote by x, and which he called arithmos (the number)—he used a Greek sigma; and for the other powers he used the letters of the Greek alphabet. An algebra without symbols had existed before him: Plato had recommended, for training and amusing the youthful mind, such problems as the distribution of apples in certain proportions among several persons; ³² Archimedes had propounded like puzzles in the third century B.C..; and both the Egyptians and the Greeks had solved geometrical problems by algebraic methods without algebraic notation. Probably Diophantus systematized methods already familiar to his contemporaries;³³ the accident of time has preserved him; and to him, through the Arabs, we trace that bold and esoteric symbolism which aspires to formulate all the quantitative relations of the world.

Papinian, Paulus, and Ulpian, the culminating trio of Roman law, all rose to power under Septimius Severus; all, as prefects of the Praetorian Guard, were the prime ministers of the realm; and all justified absolute monarchy on the ground that the people had delegated their sovereignty to the emperor. Papinian’s Quaestiones and Responsa were so distinguished by clarity, humanity, and justice that Justinian’s collections leaned heavily on these works. When Caracalla killed Geta, he bade Papinian write a legal defense of the act; Papinian refused, saying that it was “easier to commit fratricide than to justify it.” Caracalla ordered him beheaded, and a soldier performed the deed with an ax in the presence of the Emperor. Domitius Ulpianus continued Papinian’s labors as jurist and humanitarian. His legal opinions defended slaves as by nature free, and women as endowed with the same rights as men.³⁴ Like most landmarks in the history of law, his writings were essentially a co-ordination of his predecessors’ work; but his judgments were so definitive that nearly a third of them survive in the Digest of Justinian. “It was because Alexander Severus ruled chiefly in accord with Ulpian’s advice,” says Lampridius, “that he was so excellent an emperor.”³⁵ However, Ulpian had had some of his opponents put to death; and in 228 his enemies in the Guard killed him in turn, with less legality and equal effect. Diocletian encouraged and financed schools of law, and commissioned the codification of post-Trajanic legislation in the Codex Gregorianus. Thereafter the science of jurisprudence hibernated till Justinian.

The third century continued the art of painting on Pompeian and Alexandrian lines; its meager remains are Oriental and crude, and almost effaced by time. Sculpture flourished, for many emperors had to be carved; it stiffened into a primitive frontality, but no later age has surpassed this one in portraits of startling veracity. It is a credit to Caracalla, or a testimony to his dullness, that he allowed a sculptor to transmit him to us as the curlyheaded scowling brute of the Naples Museum. Two sculptural colossi date from this period: the Farríese Bull and the Farnese Hercules, both of them exaggerated and unpleasantly tense, but showing undiminished technical mastery. That sculptors could still work in the classic style appears from the chaste reliefs on the sarcophagus of Alexander Severus, and on the Ludovisi Battle Sarcophagus. But the reliefs on the Arch of Septimius Severus at Rome frankly rejected Attic simplicity and grace for a coarse and picturesque virility that almost foreshadowed the rebarbarization of Italy.

Architecture at Rome now carried to completion the Roman flair for sublimity through size. Septimius raised on the Palatine the last of its imperial palaces, with an eastern wing seven stories high—the “Septizonium.” Julia Domna provided funds for the Atrium Vestae, and the pretty Temple of Vesta that still stands in the Forum. Caracalla built for Isis’ consort Serapis an immense shrine of which some handsome fragments survive. The Baths of Caracalla, finished under Alexander Severus, are among the world’s most impressive ruins. They added nothing to architectural science, following essentially the lines of Trajan’s Baths; but their frowning mass well expressed the murderer of Geta and Papinian. The main block, of brick and concrete, covered 270,000 square feet—more than the Houses of Parliament and Westminster Hall combined. A winding stairway led to the top of the walls; perched there Shelley wrote Prometheus Unbound. The interior was garrisoned by a multitude of statues, and upheld by 200 columns of granite, alabaster, and porphyry; the marble floors and walls were inlaid with mosaic scenes; water poured from massive mouths of silver into pools and basins where 1600 persons could bathe at once. Gallienus and Decius raised similar baths; in the latter case the Roman engineers rested a circular dome upon a decagonal edifice, and supported it with buttresses in the angles of the decagon—an expedient with little past and much future. In 295 Maximian began the most enormous of the eleven imperial thermae, and named it with singular modesty the Baths of Diocletian. Here were bathing facilities for 3600 persons at one time, gymnasiums, concert and lecture halls; out of one room, the tepidarium, Michelangelo fashioned Santa Maria degli Angeli—with the exception of St. Peter’s the largest church in Rome. Structures only less monumental rose in the provinces. Diocletian built extensively in Nicomedia, Alexandria, and Antioch; Maximian adorned Milan, Galerius Sirmium, Constantius Trèves.

Literature prospered less, for it could seldom tap the wealth that gathered in imperial hands. Libraries grew in number and size; a third-century physician had a collection of 62,000 volumes, and the Bibliotheca Ulpiana was renowned for its historical archives. Diocletian sent scholars to Alexandria to transcribe classical texts there and bring copies to the libraries of Rome. Scholars were plentiful and popular; Philostratus memorialized them well in his Lives of the Sophists. Porphyry continued Plotinus, attacked Christianity, and called the world to vegetarianism. Iamblichus tried to harmonize Platonism and pagan theology, and succeeded sufficiently to inspire the Emperor Julian. Diogenes Laertius put together the lives and opinions of the philosophers in fascinating excerpt and anecdote. Athenaeus of Naucratis, having consumed the libraries of Alexandria, poured his chyme into the Deipnosophists, or “Sophists of the Dinner Table”—a dreary dialogue on foods, sauces, courtesans, philosophers, and words, brightened here and there by some revelation of ancient custom or some reminiscence of great men. Longinus, perhaps of Palmyra, composed a polished essay Peri hypsus “On the Sublime”; the peculiar pleasure given by literature (runs the argument) is due to the “lifting up” (ekstasis) of the reader by the eloquence that comes to a writer from strength of conviction and sincerity of character.^* Dio Cassius Cocceianus of Bithynian Nicaea, after a life spent in the cursus honorum, began at fifty-five to write his History of Rome (210?); in his seventy-fourth year he completed it, having carried the story down from Romulus to himself. Of its eighty “books” less than half remain, but they fill eight substantial volumes. It is a work of noble scope rather than high quality. It has vivid narratives, revealing speeches, and philosophical asides that are not always platitudinous and conservative. But, like Livy, it is disfigured with “portents”; like Tacitus it is a long brief for the Senatorial opposition; and like all Roman histories it cleaves narrowly to the vicissitudes of politics and war—as if life for a thousand years had been nothing but taxes and death.

More significant than these honorable men for the historian of the mind is the appearance, in this century, of the romantic novel. It had had a long preparation in the Cyropaideia of Xenophon, the love poems of Callimachus, the legends that had accumulated about Alexander, and the “Milesian Tales” told by Aristides and others in the second century B.C. and afterward. These stories of adventure and love pleased an Ionian populace so classic in tradition but so Oriental in mood, perhaps now Oriental in blood. Petronius in Rome, Apuleius in Africa, Lucian in Greece, Iamblichus in Syria, developed the picaresque romance in varied ways, with no special accent on love. In the first Christian centuries, possibly responding to an increasing audience of women readers, the novel of adventure merged with the romance of love.

Our oldest extant example is the Aethiopica, or “Egyptian Tales,” of Heliodorus of Emesa. Of its date there is much dispute, but we may provisionally assign it to the third century. It begins in a style honorable with age:

The day had begun to smile cheerily, and the sun was already brightening the tops of the hills, when a band of men, in arms and appearance pirates, having ascended the summit of a slope that overlooks the Heracleotic mouth of the Nile, paused and surveyed the sea. Finding no sail there to promise them booty, they turned their eyes to the shore beneath them; and this is what they saw.³⁷

At once we meet the rich and handsome youth Theagenes, and the lovely and tearful princess Chariclea; they have been captured by pirates; and there befalls them such a medley of mishaps, misunderstandings, battles, murders, and reunions as might supply a season’s fiction today. Whereas in Petronius and Apuleius the chastity of maidens is a matter of swiftly passing concern, it is here the essence and pivot of the tale: Heliodorus preserves Chariclea’s virginity through a score of narrow escapes, and writes persuasive homilies on the beauty and necessity of feminine virtue. There may be here some Christian influence; indeed, tradition made the author become the Christian bishop of Thessalonica. The Aethiopica unwittingly fathered an endless chain of imitations: here is the model for Cervantes’ Persiles y Sigismunda, the story of Clorinda in Tasso’s Jerusalem Delivered, and the vast romances of Mme de Scudéry; here are the love potions, signs, moans, faintings, and happy endings of a million pleasant tales; here is Clarissa Harlowe 1500 years before Richardson.

The most famous love story in ancient prose was Daphnis and Chloë. Of its author we know only the name Longus; and we merely guess at the third century as his time. Daphnis is exposed at birth, is rescued and reared by a shepherd, and becomes a shepherd in turn. Excellent passages of rural description suggest that Longus, like his poetic model Theocritus, had discovered the country after long residence in the city. Daphnis falls in love with a peasant girl who has also been rescued from infant exposure; they tend their flocks in charming comradeship, bathe together in innocent nudity, and intoxicate each other with an unprecedented kiss. An old neighbor explains their fever to them, and describes from his own youth the sickness of romantic love. “I thought not of my food, I cared not for my drink. I could take no rest, and sleep deserted me. My soul was heavy with sadness, my heart beat quickly, my limbs felt a deadly chill.”³⁸ In the end their fathers, now wealthy, discover and enrich them; but they ignore their wealth and return to their modest pastoral life. The tale is told with the simplicity of finished art. Translated into supple French by Amyot (1559), it became the model for Saint-Pierre’s Paul and Virginia, and the inspiration of countless paintings, poems, and musical compositions.

Akin to it is a fragment of poetry known as Pervigilium Veneris, “The Eve of Venus.” No one knows who wrote it, or when; probably it belongs to this century.³⁹ The theme is that of Lucretius’ apostrophe and Longus’ romance-that the goddess of love, by inflaming all living things with reckless desire, is the real creator of the world:

Tomorrow let him love who never loved;

Tomorrow let him love who loved before.

Fresh spring has come, and sings her amorous song;

The world is born anew, and vernal love

Drives birds to mate, and all the waiting woods

Unloose their tresses to the showers of spring.

Tomorrow let him love who never loved,

And let him love who loved before.

So the limpid verse flows on, finding the work of love in the fertilizing rain, in the forms of flowers, in the songs of merry festivals, in the awkward tentatives of desirous youth, in timid trysts amid woodland haunts; and after each stanza the pithy promise returns: Cras amet qui numquam amavit, quique amavit eras amet. Here, in the last great lyric poem of the pagan soul, we hear the trochaic cadence of medieval hymns, and a melodious premonition of the troubadours.

V. THE ORIENTAL MONARCHY

When Claudius II died of a pestilence that was decimating Goths and Romans alike (270), the army chose as his successor the son of an Illyrian peasant. Domitius Aurelianus had risen from the lowest ranks by strength of body and will; his nickname was Manu ad ferrum—“hand on sword.” It was a sign of reawakened good sense in the army that it chose a man who exacted as hard a discipline from others as from himself.

Under his lead the enemies of Rome were repulsed at every point except the Danube. There Aurelian ceded Dacia to the Goths, hoping that they would stand as a barrier between the Empire and ulterior hordes. Perhaps encouraged by this surrender, the Alemanni and the Vandals invaded Italy; but Aurelian in three battles overcame and dispersed them. Meditating distant campaigns, and fearing an assault upon Rome during his absence, he persuaded the Senate to finance, and the guilds to erect, new walls around the capital. Everywhere in the Empire city walls were being built, signifying the weakening of the imperial power and the end of the Roman peace.

Preferring offense to defense, Aurelian determined to restore the Empire by attacking Zenobia in the East, and then Tetricus, who had succeeded Postumus as the usurper of sovereignty in Gaul. While his general Probus recovered Egypt from Zenobia’s son, Aurelian marched through the Balkans, crossed the Hellespont, defeated the Queen’s army at Emesa, and besieged her capital. She tried to escape and enlist Persia’s aid, but was captured; the city surrendered and was spared, but Longinus was put to death (272). While the Emperor was leading his army back to the Hellespont, Palmyra revolted and slew the garrison he had left there. He turned about with the speed of Caesar, again besieged and soon took the city; now he abandoned it to pillage by his troops, razed its walls, rerouted its trade, and let it lapse into the desert village that it had been before and is today. Zenobia graced in golden chains Aurelian’s triumph in Rome, and was allowed to spend her remaining years in comparative freedom at Tibur.

In 274 Aurelian defeated Tetricus at Chalons, and returned Gaul, Spain, and Britain to the Empire. Happy at the resumption of its mastery, Rome hailed the victor as restitutor orbis, restorer of the world. Turning to the tasks of peace, he re-established some economic order by reforming the Roman coinage; and reorganized the government by applying to it the same severe discipline that had regenerated the army. Ascribing Rome’s moral and political chaos in some degree to religious disunity, and impressed by the political services of religion in the East, he sought to unite old faiths and new in a monotheistic worship of the sun-god, and of the Emperor as the vicar of that deity on earth. He informed a skeptical army and Senate that it was the god, and not their choice or confirmation, that had made him Emperor. He built at Rome a resplendent Temple of the Sun, in which, he hoped, the Baal of Emesa and the god of Mithraism would merge. Monarchy and monotheism were advancing side by side, each seeking to make the other its aide. Aurelian’s religious policy suggested that the power of the state was falling, that of religion rising; kings were now kings by the grace of God. This was the Oriental conception of government, old in Egypt, Persia, and Syria; in accepting it Aurelian advanced that Orientalization of the monarchy which had begun with Elagabalus and would complete itself in Diocletian and Constantine.

In 275, as Aurelian was leading an army across Thrace to settle matters with Persia, a group of officers, misled into thinking that he planned to execute them, assassinated him. Shocked by its own accumulated crimes, the army asked the Senate to appoint a successor. None wanted an honor that so regularly heralded death; finally Tacitus, being seventy-five years old, consented to serve. He claimed descent from the historian, and illustrated all the virtues preached by that laconic pessimist; but he died of exhaustion six months after taking the crown. The soldiers, repenting their repentance, resumed the prerogative of force, and saluted Probus as emperor (276).

It was an excellent choice and a merited name, for Probus stood out in courage and integrity. He expelled the Germans from Gaul, cleared the Vandals from Illyricum, built a wall between the Rhine and the Danube, frightened the Persians with a word, and gave peace to the whole Roman realm. Soon, he pledged his people, there would be no arms, no armies, and no wars, and the reign of law would cover the earth. As a prelude to this utopia he compelled his troops to clear wastelands, drain marshes, plant vines, and perform other public works. The army resented this sublimation, murdered him (282), mourned him, and built a monument to his memory.

It now hailed as imperator one Diocles, the son of a Dalmatian freedman. Diocletian, as he henceforth called himself, had risen by brilliant talents and flexible scruples to the consulate, a proconsulate, and command of the palace guards. He was a man of genius, less skilled in war than in statesmanship. He came to the throne after a period of anarchy worse than that which had prevailed from the Gracchi to Antony; like Augustus, he pacified all parties, protected all frontiers, extended the role of government, and based his rule on the aid and sanction of religion. Augustus had created the Empire, Aurelian had saved it; Diocletian reorganized it.

His first vital decision revealed the state of the realm and the waning of Rome. He abandoned the city as a capital, and made his emperial headquarters at Nicomedia in Asia Minor, a few miles south of Byzantium. The Senate still met in Rome, the consuls went through their ritual, the games roared on, the streets still bore the noisome pullulation of humanity; but power and leadership had gone from this center of economic and moral decay. Diocletian based his move on military necessity: Europe and Asia must be defended, and could not be defended from a city so far south of the Alps. Hence he appointed a capable general, Maximian, as his coruler (286), charging him with defense of the West; and Maximian made not Rome but Milan his capital. Six years later, to further facilitate administration and defense, each of the two Augusti chose a “Caesar” as his aide and successor: Diocletian selected Galerius, who made his capital at Sirmium (Mitrovica on the Save), and was responsible for the Danube provinces; and Maximian appointed Constantius Chlorus (the Pale), who made his capital at Augusta Trevirorum (Trèves). Each Augustus pledged himself to retire after twenty years in favor of his Caesar, who would then appoint a “Caesar” to aid and succeed him in turn. Each Augustus gave his daughter in marriage to his “Caesar,” adding the ties of blood to those of law. In this way, Diocletian hoped, wars of succession would be avoided, government would recapture continuity and authority, and the Empire would stand on guard at four strategic points against internal rebellion and external attack. It was a brilliant arrangement, which had every virtue but unity and freedom.

The monarchy was divided, but it was absolute. Each law of each ruler was issued in the name of all four, and was valid for the realm. The edict of the rulers became law at once, without the sanction of the Senate at Rome. All governmental officials were appointed by the rulers, and a gigantic bureaucracy spread its coils around the state. To further fortify the system, Diocletian developed the cult of the Emperor’s genius into a personal worship of himself as the earthly embodiment of Jupiter, while Maximian modestly consented to be Hercules; wisdom and force had come down from heaven to restore order and peace on earth. Diocletian assumed a diadem—a broad white fillet set with pearls—and robes of silk and gold; his shoes were studded with precious gems; he kept himself aloof in his palace, and required visitors to pass the gantlet of ceremonious eunuchs and titled chamberlains, and to kneel and kiss the hem of his robe. He was a man of the world, and doubtless smiled in private at these myths and forms; but his throne lacked the legitimacy of time, and he hoped to buttress it, to check the turbulence of the populace and the revolts of the army, by enduing himself with divinity and awe. “He had himself called dominus” says Aurelius Victor, “but he behaved like a father.”⁴⁰ This adoption of Oriental despotism by the son of a slave, this identification of god and king, meant the final failure of republican institutions in antiquity, the surrender of the fruits of Marathon; it was a reversion, like Alexander’s, to the forms and theories of Achaemenid and Egyptian courts, of Ptolemaic, Parthian, and Sassanid kings. From this Orientalized monarchy came the structure of Byzantine and European kingdoms till the French Revolution. All that was needed now was to ally the Oriental monarch in an Oriental capital with an Oriental faith. Byzantinism began with Diocletian.

VI. THE SOCIALISM OF DIOCLETIAN

He proceeded with Caesarian energy to remake every branch of the government. He transformed the aristocracy by raising to it many civil or military officials, and making it a hereditary caste with an Oriental gradation of dignities, profusion of titles, and complexity of etiquette. He and his colleagues redivided the Empire into ninety-six provinces grouped into seventy-two dioceses and four prefectures, and appointed civil and military rulers for each division. It was a frankly centralized state, which considered local autonomy, like democracy, a luxury of security and peace, and excused its dictatorship by the needs of actual or imminent war. Wars were waged, and with brilliant success; Constantius recovered revolted Britain, and Galerius defeated the Persians so decisively that they surrendered Mesopotamia and five provinces beyond the Tigris. For a generation Rome’s enemies were held at bay.

In years of peace Diocletian, with his aides, faced the problems of economic decay. To overcome depression and prevent revolution he substituted a managed economy for the law of supply and demand.⁴¹ He established a sound currency by guaranteeing to the gold coinage a fixed weight and purity which it retained in the Eastern Empire till 1453. He distributed food to the poor at half the market price or free, and undertook extensive public works to appease the unemployed.⁴² To ensure the supply of necessaries for the cities and the armies, he brought many branches of industry under complete state control, beginning with the import of grain; he persuaded the shipowners, merchants, and crews engaged in this trade to accept such control in return for governmental guarantee of security in employment and returns.⁴³ The state had long since owned most quarries, salt deposits, and mines; now it forbade the export of salt, iron, gold, wine, grain, or oil from Italy, and strictly regulated the importation of these articles.⁴⁴ It went on to control establishments producing for the army, the bureaucracy, or the court. In munition factories, textile mills, and bakeries the government required a minimum product, bought this at its own price, and made the associations of manufacturers responsible for carrying out orders and specifications. If this procedure proved inadequate, it completely nationalized these factories, and manned them with labor bound to the job.⁴⁵ Gradually, under Aurelian and Diocletian, the majority of industrial establishments and guilds in Italy were brought under the control of the corporate state. Butchers, bakers, masons, builders, glass blowers, ironworkers, engravers, were ruled by detailed governmental regulations.⁴⁶ The “various corporations,” says Rostovtzeff, “were more like minor supervisors of their own concerns on behalf of the state than their owners; they were themselves in bondage to the officials of the various departments, and to the commanders of the various military units.”⁴⁷ The associations of tradesmen and artisans received various privileges from the government, and often exerted pressure upon its policies; in return they served as organs of national administration, helped to regiment labor, and collected taxes for the state from their membership.⁴⁸ Similar methods of governmental control were extended, in the late third and early fourth centuries, to provincial armament, food, and clothing industries. “In every province,” says Paul-Louis, “special procuratores superintended industrial activities. In every large town the state became a powerful employer . . . standing head and .shoulders above the private industrialists, who were in any case crushed by taxation.”⁴⁹

Such a system could not work without price control. In 301 Diocletian and his colleagues issued an Edictum de pretiis, dictating maximum legal prices or wages for all important articles or services in the Empire. Its preamble attacks monopolists who, in an “economy of scarcity,” had kept goods from the market to raise prices:

Who is ... so devoid of human feeling as not to see that immoderate prices are widespread in the markets of our cities, and that the passion for gain is lessened neither by plentiful supplies nor by fruitful years?—so that . . . evil men reckon it their loss if abundance comes. There are men whose aim it is to restrain general prosperity ... to seek usurious and ruinous returns. . . . Avarice rages throughout the world. . . . Wherever our armies are compelled to go for the common safety, profiteers extort prices not merely four or eight times the normal, but beyond any words to describe. Sometimes the soldier must exhaust his salary and his bonus in one purchase, so that the contributions of the whole world to support the armies fall to the abominable profits of thieves.^{* 50}

The Edict was until our time the most famous example of an attempt to replace economic laws by governmental decrees. Its failure was rapid and complete. Tradesmen concealed their commodities, scarcities became more acute than before, Diocletian himself was accused of conniving at a rise in prices,⁵² riots occurred, and the Edict had to be relaxed to restore production and distribution.⁵³ It was finally revoked by Constantine.

The weakness of this managed economy lay in its administrative cost. The required bureaucracy was so extensive that Lactantius, doubtless with political license, estimated it at half the population.⁵⁴ The bureaucrats found their task too great for human integrity, their surveillance too sporadic for the evasive ingenuity of men. To support the bureaucracy, the court, the army, the building program, and the dole, taxation rose to unprecedented peaks of ubiquitous continuity. As the state had not yet discovered the plan of public borrowing to conceal its wastefulness and postpone its reckoning, the cost of each year’s operations had to be met from each year’s revenue. To avoid returns in depreciating currencies, Diocletian directed that, where possible, taxes should be collected in kind: taxpayers were required to transport their tax quotas to governmental warehouses, and a laborious organization was built up to get the goods thence to their final destination.⁵⁵ In each municipality the decuriones or municipal officials were held financially responsible for any shortage in the payment of the taxes assessed upon their communities.⁵⁶

Since every taxpayer sought to evade taxes, the state organized a special force of revenue police to examine every man’s property and income; torture was used upon wives, children, and slaves to make them reveal the hidden wealth or earnings of the household; and severe penalties were enacted for evasion.⁵⁷ Towards the end of the third century, and still more in the fourth, flight from taxes became almost epidemic in the Empire. The well to do concealed their riches, local aristocrats had themselves reclassified as humiliores to escape election to municipal office, artisans deserted their trades, peasant proprietors left their overtaxed holdings to become hired men, many villages and some towns (e.g., Tiberias in Palestine) were abandoned because of high assessments;⁵⁸ at last, in the fourth century, thousands of citizens fled over the border to seek refuge among the barbarians.⁵⁹

It was probably to check this costly mobility, to ensure a proper flow of food to armies and cities, and of taxes to the state, that Diocletian resorted to measures that in effect established serfdom in fields, factories, and guilds. Having made the landowner responsible, through tax quotas in kind, for the productivity of his tenants, the government ruled that a tenant must remain on his land till his arrears of debt or tithes should be paid. We do not know the date of this historic decree; but in 332 a law of Constantine assumed and confirmed it, and made the tenant adscriptitius, “bound in writing” to the soil he tilled; he could not leave it without the consent of the owner; and when it was sold, he and his household were sold with it.⁶⁰ He made no protest that has come down to us; perhaps the law was presented to him as a guarantee of security, as in Germany today. In this and other ways agriculture passed in the third century from slavery through freedom to serfdom, and entered the Middle Ages.

Similar means of compelling stability were used in industry. Labor was “frozen” to its job, forbidden to pass from one shop to another without governmental consent. Each collegium or guild was bound to its trade and its assigned task, and no man might leave the guild in which he had been enrolled.⁶¹ Membership in one guild or another was made compulsory on all persons engaged in commerce and industry; and the son was required to follow the trade of his father.⁶² When any man wished to leave his place or occupation for another, the state reminded him that Italy was in a state of siege by the barbarians, and that every man must stay at his post.

In the year 305, in impressive ceremonies at Nicomedia and Milan, Diocletian and Maximian abdicated their power, and Galerius and Constantius Chlorus became Augusti, emperors respectively of the East and the West. Diocletian, still but fifty-five years of age, lost himself in his immense palace at Spalato, spent there the remaining eight years of his life, and saw without interference the breakdown of his tetrarchy in civil war. When Maximian urged him to return to power and end the strife, he replied that if Maximian could see the excellent cabbages he was growing in his garden he would not ask him to sacrifice such content for the pursuit and cares of power.⁶³

He deserved his cabbages and his rest. He had ended a half century of anarchy, had re-established government and law, had restored stability to industry and security to trade, had tamed Persia and stilled the barbarians, and, despite a few murders, had been, all in all, a sincere legislator and a just judge. It is true that he had established an expensive bureaucracy, had ended local autonomy, had punished opposition harshly, had persecuted the church that might have been a helpful ally in his healing work, and had turned the population of the Empire into a caste society with an unlettered peasantry at one end and an absolute monarch at the other. But the conditions that Rome faced would not permit liberal policies; Marcus Aurelius and Alexander Severus had tried these and failed. Confronted by enemies on every side, the Roman state did what all nations must do in crucial wars; it accepted the dictatorship of a strong leader, taxed itself beyond tolerance, and put individual liberty aside until collective liberty was secured. Diocletian had, with more cost but under harder circumstances, repeated the achievement of Augustus. His contemporaries and his posterity, mindful of what they had escaped, called him the “Father of the Golden Age.” Constantine entered the house that Diocletian-built.

CHAPTER XXX

The Triumph of Christianity

A.D. 306-325

I. THE WAR OF CHURCH AND STATE

A.D. 64-311

IN pre-Christian days the Roman government had for the most part allowed to the rivals of orthodox paganism a tolerance which they in turn had shown to the official and imperial cults; nothing was demanded from the adherents of new faiths except an occasional gesture of adoration to the gods and head of the state. The emperors were piqued to find that of all the heretics under their rule only the Christians and the Jews refused to join in honoring their genius. The burning of incense before a statue of the emperor had become a sign and affirmation of loyalty to the Empire, like the oath of allegiance required for citizenship today. On its side the Church resented the Roman idea that religion was subordinate to the state; it saw in emperor-worship an act of polytheism and idolatry, and instructed its followers to refuse it at any cost. The Roman government concluded that Christianity was a radical—perhaps a communist—movement, subtly designed to overthrow the established order.

Before Nero the two forces had found it possible to live together without blows. The law had exempted the Jews from emperor-worship, and the Christians, at first confused with the Jews, were granted the same privilege. But the execution of Peter and Paul, and the burning of Christians to light up Nero’s games, turned this mutual and contemptuous tolerance into unceasing hostility and intermittent war. We cannot wonder that after such provocation the Christians turned their full armory against Rome—denounced its immorality and idolatry, ridiculed its gods, rejoiced in its calamities,¹ and predicted its early fall. In the ardor of a faith made intolerant by intolerance, Christians declared that all who had had a chance to accept Christ and had refused would be condemned to eternal torments; many of them foretold the same fate for all the pre-Christian or non-Christian world; some excepted Socrates. In reply, pagans called the Christians “dregs of the people” and “insolent barbarians,” accused them of “hatred of the human race,” and ascribed the misfortunes of the Empire to the anger of pagan deities whose Christian revilers had been allowed to live.² A thousand slanderous legends arose on either side. Christians were charged with demonic magic, secret immorality, drinking human blood at the Paschal feast,³ and worshiping an ass.

But the conflict was profounder than mere pugnacity. Pagan civilization was founded upon the state, Christian civilization upon religion. To a Roman his religion was part of the structure and ceremony of government, and his morality culminated in patriotism; to a Christian his religion was something apart from and superior to political society; his highest allegiance belonged not to Caesar but to Christ. Tertullian laid down the revolutionary principle that no man need obey a law that he deemed unjust.⁴ The Christian revered his bishop, even his priest, far above the Roman magistrate; he submitted his legal troubles with fellow Christians to his church authorities rather than to the officials of the state.⁵ The detachment of the Christian from earthly affairs seemed to the pagan a flight from civic duty, a weakening of the national fiber and will. Tertullian advised Christians to refuse military service; and that a substantial number of them followed his counsel is indicated by Celsus’ appeal to end this refusal, and Origen’s reply that though Christians will not fight for the Empire they will pray for it.⁶ Christians were exhorted by their leaders to avoid non-Christians, to shun their festival games as barbarous, and their theaters as stews of obscenity.⁷ Marriage with a non-Christian was forbidden. Christian slaves were accused of introducing discord into the family by converting their masters’ children or wives; Christianity was charged with breaking up the home.⁸

The opposition to the new religion came rather from the people than from the state. The magistrates were often men of culture and tolerance; but the mass of the pagan population resented the aloofness, superiority, and certainty of the Christians, and called upon the authorities to punish these “atheists” for insulting the gods. Tertullian notes “the general hatred felt for us.”⁹ From the time of Nero Roman law seems to have branded the profession of Christianity as a capital offense;¹⁰ but under most of the emperors this ordinance was enforced with deliberate negligence.¹¹ If accused, a Christian could usually free himself by offering incense to a statue of the emperor; thereafter he was apparently allowed to resume the quiet practice of his faith.¹² Christians who refused this obeisance might be imprisoned, or flogged, or exiled, or condemned to the mines, or, rarely, put to death. Domitian seems to have banished some Christians from Rome; but “being in some degree human,” says Tertullian, “he soon stopped what he had begun, and restored the exiles.”¹³ Pliny enforced the law with the officiousness of an amateur (111), if we may judge from his letter to Trajan:

The method I have observed toward those who have been denounced to me as Christians is this: I interrogated them whether they were Christians; if they confessed it I repeated the question twice again, adding the threat of capital punishment; if they still persevered, I ordered them to be executed. . . . The temples, which had been almost deserted, begin now to be frequented . . . and there is a general demand for sacrificial animals, which for some time past have met with but few purchasers.

To which Trajan replied:

The method you have pursued, my dear Pliny, in sifting the cases of those denounced to you as Christians is eminently proper. . . . No search should be made for these people; when they are denounced and found guilty they must be punished; but where the accused party denies that he is a Christian, and gives proof ... by adoring our gods, he shall be pardoned. . . . Information without the accuser’s name subscribed must not be admitted in evidence against anyone.¹⁴

The passage here italicized suggests that Trajan only reluctantly carried out a pre-existing statute. Nevertheless, we hear of two prominent martyrs in his principate: Simeon, head of the church of Jerusalem, and Ignatius, Bishop of Antioch; presumably there were others of less fame.

Hadrian, a skeptic open to all ideas, instructed his appointees to give the Christians the benefit of every doubt.¹⁵ Being more religious, Antoninus allowed more persecution. At Smyrna the populace demanded of the “Asiarch” Philip that he enforce the law; he complied by having eleven Christians executed in the amphitheater (155). The bloodthirst of the crowd was aroused rather than assuaged; it clamored for the death of Bishop Poly-carp, a saintly patriarch of eighty-six years, who was said in his youth to have known Saint John. Roman soldiers found the old man in a suburban retreat, and brought him unresisting before the Asiarch at the games. Philip pressed him: “Take the oath, revile Christ, and I will let you go.” Polycarp, says the most ancient of the Acts of the Martyrs, replied: “For eighty-six years have I been his servant, and he has done me no wrong; how then can I blaspheme my King who saved me?” The crowd cried out that he should be burned alive. The flames, says the pious document, refused to burn him, “but he was within them as bread that is being baked; and we perceived such a fragrant smell as might come from incense or other costly spices. At length the lawless men commanded an executioner to stab him. When he did this there came out a dove, and so much blood that the fire was quenched, and all the crowd marveled.”¹⁶

The persecutions were renewed under the saintly Aurelius. When famine, flood, pestilence, and war overwhelmed a once happy reign, the conviction spread that these evils were due to neglect and denial of the Roman gods. Aurelius shared the public terror, or yielded to it. In 177 he issued a rescript ordering the punishment of sects that caused disturbances by “exciting the ill-balanced minds of men” with new winds of doctrine. In that same year, at Vienne and Lyons, the pagan populace arose in fury against the Christians, and stoned them whenever they dared to stir from their homes. The imperial legate ordered the arrest of the leading Christians of Lyons. Bishop Pothinus, ninety years old, died in jail from the effects of torture. A messenger was sent to Rome to ask the advice of the Emperor as to the treatment of the remaining prisoners. Marcus replied that those who denied Christianity should be freed, but those who professed it should be put to death according to the law.

The annual festival of the Augustalia was now to be celebrated in Lyons, and delegates from all Gaul crowded the provincial capital. At the height of the games the accused Christians were brought to the amphitheater and were questioned. Those who recanted were dismissed; forty-seven who persisted were put to death with a variety and barbarity of tortures equaled only by the Inquisition. Attalus, second to Pothinus in the Christian community, was forced to sit on a chair of red-hot iron and roast to death.¹⁷ Blandina, a slave girl, was tortured all day, then bound up in a bag, and thrown into the arena to be gored to death by a bull. Her silent fortitude led many Christians to believe that Christ made his martyrs insensitive to pain; the same result might have come from ecstasy and fear. “The Christian,” said Tertullian, “even when condemned to die, gives thanks.”^{18 *}

Under Commodus the persecutions waned. Septimius Severus renewed them, even to the point of making baptism a crime. In 203 many Christians suffered martyrdom in Carthage. One of them, a young mother named Perpetua, left a touching account of her days in prison, and her father’s prostrate pleas that she should renounce Christianity. She and another young mother were tossed and gored by a bull; we have an indication of the anesthetic effect of fear and trance in her later query, “When are we to be tossed?” Story tells how she guided to her throat the dagger of the reluctant gladiator who had to kill her.¹⁹ The Syrian empresses who followed Septimius had little concern for the Roman gods, and gave Christianity a careless toleration. Under Alexander Severus peace seemed established among all the rival faiths.

The renewal of the barbarian attacks ended this truce. To understand the persecution under Decius (or Aurelius) we must imagine a nation in the full excitement of war, frightened by serious defeats, and expecting hostile invasion. In 249 a wave of religious emotion swept the Empire; men and women flocked to the temples and besieged the gods with prayers. Amid this fever of patriotism and fear the Christians stood apart, still resenting and discouraging military service,²⁰ scorning the gods, and interpreting the collapse of the Empire as the prophesied prelude to the destruction of “Babylon” and the return of Christ. Using the mood of the people as an opportunity to strengthen national enthusiasm and unity, Decius issued an edict requiring every inhabitant of the realm to offer a propitiatory act of homage to the gods of Rome. Apparently Christians were not asked to abjure their own faith, but were commanded to join in the universal supplicatio to the deities who, the populace believed, had so often saved imperiled Rome. Most Christians complied; in Alexandria, according to its Bishop Dionysius, “the apostasy was universal”;²¹ it was likewise in Carthage and Smyrna; probably these Christians considered the supplicatio a patriotic formality. But the bishops of Jerusalem and Antioch died in jail, and the bishops of Rome and Toulouse were put to death (250). Hundreds of Roman Christians were crowded into dungeons; some were beheaded, some were burned at the stake, a few were given to the beasts in holiday festival. After a year the persecution abated; and by Easter of 251 it was practically at an end.

Six years later Valerian, in another crisis of invasion and terror, ordered that “all persons must conform to the Roman ceremonials,” and forbade any Christian assemblage. Pope Sixtus II resisted, and was put to death with four of his deacons. Bishop Cyprian of Carthage was beheaded, the bishop of Tarragona was burned alive. In 261, after the Persians had removed Valerian from the scene, Gallienus published the first edict of toleration, recognizing Christianity as a permitted religion, and ordering that property taken from Christians should be restored to them. Minor persecutions occurred in the next forty years, but for the most part these were for Christianity decades of unprecedented calm and rapid growth. In the chaos and terror of the third century men fled from the weakened state to the consolations of religion, and found them more abundantly in Christianity than in its rivals. The Church made rich converts now, built costly cathedrals, and allowed its adherents to share in the joys of this world. The odium theologicum subsided among the people; Christians intermingled more freely with pagans, even married them. The Oriental monarchy of Diocletian seemed destined to consolidate religious as well as political security and peace.

Galerius, however, saw in Christianity the last obstacle to absolute rule, and urged his chief to complete the Roman restoration by restoring the Roman gods. Diocletian hesitated; he was averse to needless risks, and estimated more truly than Galerius the magnitude of the task. But one day, at an imperial sacrifice, the Christians made the sign of the cross to ward off evil demons. When the augurs failed to find on the livers of the sacrificed animals the marks that they had hoped to interpret, they blamed the presence of profane and unbelieving persons. Diocletian ordered that all in attendance should offer sacrifice to the gods or be flogged, and that all soldiers in the army should similarly conform or be dismissed (302). Strange to say, Christian writers agreed with the pagan priests: the prayers of the Christian, said Lactantius,²² kept the Roman gods at a distance; and Bishop Dionysius had written to the same effect a generation before. Galerius at every opportunity argued the need of religious unity as a support to the new monarchy; and at last Diocletian yielded. In February, 303, the four rulers decreed the destruction of all Christian churches, the burning of Christian books, the dissolution of Christian congregations, the confiscation of their property, the exclusion of Christians from public office, and the punishment of death for Christians detected in religious assembly. A band of soldiers inaugurated the persecution by burning to the ground the cathedral at Nicomedia.

The Christians were now numerous enough to retaliate. A revolutionary movement broke out in Syria, and in Nicomedia incendiaries twice set fire to Diocletian’s palace. Galerius accused the Christians of the arson; they accused him; hundreds of Christians were arrested and tortured, but the guilt was never fixed. In September Diocletian ordered that imprisoned Christians who would worship the Roman gods should be freed, but that those who refused should be subjected to every torture known to Rome. Infuriated by scornful resistance, he directed all provincial magistrates to seek out every Christian, and use any method to compel him to appease the gods. Then, probably glad to leave this miserable enterprise to his successors, he resigned.

Maximian carried out the edict with military thoroughness in Italy. Galerius, become Augustus, gave every encouragement to the persecution in the East. The roll of martyrs was increased in every part of the Empire except Gaul and Britain, where Constantius contented himself with burning a few churches. Eusebius assures us, presumably with the hyperbole of indignation, that men were flogged till the flesh hung from their bones, or their flesh was scraped to the bone with shells; salt or vinegar was poured upon the wounds; the flesh was cut off bit by bit and fed to waiting animals; or bound to crosses, men were eaten piecemeal by starved beasts. Some victims had their fingers pierced with sharp reeds under the nails; some had their eyes gouged out; some were suspended by a hand or a foot; some had molten lead poured down their throats; some were beheaded, or crucified, or beaten to death with clubs; some were torn apart by being tied to the momentarily bent branches of trees.²³ We have no pagan narrative of these events.

The persecution continued for eight years, and brought death to approximately 1500 Christians, orthodox or heretic, and diverse sufferings to countless more. Thousands of Christians recanted; tradition said that even Marcellinus, Bishop of Rome, denied his faith under duress of terror and pain. But most of the persecuted stood firm; and the sight or report of heroic fidelity under torture strengthened the faith of the wavering and won new members for the hunted congregations. As the brutalities multiplied, the sympathy of the pagan population was stirred; the opinion of good citizens found courage to express itself against the most ferocious oppression in Roman history. Once the people had urged the state to destroy Christianity; now the people stood aloof from the government, and many pagans risked death to hide or protect Christians until the storm should pass.²⁴ In 311 Galerius, suffering from a mortal illness, convinced of failure, and implored by his wife to make his peace with the undefeated God of the Christians, promulgated an edict of toleration, recognizing Christianity as a lawful religion and asking the prayers of the Christians in return for “our most gentle clemency.”²⁵

The Diocletian persecution was the greatest test and triumph of the Church. It weakened Christianity for a time through the natural defection of adherents who had joined it, or grown up, during a half century of unmolested prosperity. But soon the defaulters were doing penance and pleading for readmission to the fold. Accounts of the loyalty of martyrs who had died, or of “confessors” who had suffered, for the faith were circulated from community to community; and these Acta Martyrum, intense with exaggeration and fascinating with legend, played a historic role in awakening or confirming Christian belief. “The blood of martyrs,” said Tertullian, “is seed.”²⁶ There is no greater drama in human record than the sight of a few Christians, scorned or oppressed by a succession of emperors, bearing all trials with a fierce tenacity, multiplying quietly, building order while their enemies generated chaos, fighting the sword with the word, brutality with hope, and at last defeating the strongest state that history has known. Caesar and Christ had met in the arena, and Christ had won.

II. THE RISE OF CONSTANTINE

Diocletian, peaceful in his Dalmatian palace, saw the failure of both the persecution and the tetrarchy. Seldom had the Empire witnessed such confusion as followed his abdication. Galerius prevailed upon Constantius to let him appoint Severus and Maximinus Daza as “Caesars” (305). At once the principle of heredity asserted its claims: Maxentius, son of Maximian, wished to succeed his father’s authority, and a like resolution fired Constantine.

Flavius Valerius Constantinus had begun life at Naissus in Moesia (272?) as the illegitimate son of Constantius by his legal concubine Helena, a barmaid from Bithynia.²⁷ On becoming a “Caesar,” Constantius was required by Diocletian to put away Helena and to take Maximian’s stepdaughter Theodora as his wife. Constantine received only a meager education. He took up soldiering early, and proved his valor in the wars against Egypt and Persia. Galerius, on succeeding Diocletian, kept the young officer near him as a hostage for the good behavior of Constantius. When the latter asked Galerius to send the youth to him Galerius procrastinated craftily; but Constantine escaped from his watchers, and rode night and day across Europe to join his father at Boulogne and share in a British campaign. The Gallic army, deeply loyal to the humane Constantius, came to love his handsome, brave, and energetic son; and when the father died at York (306), the troops acclaimed Constantine not merely as “Caesar” but as Augustus—emperor. He accepted the lesser title, excusing himself on the ground that his life would be unsafe without an army at his back. Galerius, too distant to intervene, reluctantly recognized him as a “Caesar.” Constantine fought successfully against the invading Franks, and fed the beasts of the Gallic amphitheaters with barbarian kings.

Meanwhile in Rome the Praetorian Guard, eager to restore the ancient capital to leadership, hailed Maxentius as emperor (306). Severus descended from Milan to attack him; Maximian, to confound the confusion, returned to the purple at his son’s request, and joined in the campaign; Severus was deserted by his troops and put to death (307). To help himself face the growing chaos, the aging Galerius appointed a new Augustus—Flavius Licinius; hearing which, Constantine assumed a like dignity (307). A year later Maximinus Daza adopted the same title, so that in place of the two Augusti of Diocletian’s plan there were now six; no one cared to be merely “Caesar.” Maxentius quarreled with his father; Maximian went to Gaul to seek Constantine’s aid; while the latter fought Germans on the Rhine, Maximian tried to replace him as commander of the Gallic armies; Constantine marched across Gaul, besieged the usurper in Marseilles, captured him, and granted him the courtesy of suicide (310).

The death of Galerius (311) removed the last barrier between intrigue and war. Maximinus plotted with Maxentius to overthrow Licinius and Constantine, who conspired to overthrow them. Taking the initiative, Constantine crossed the Alps, defeated an army near Turin, and advanced upon Rome with a celerity of movement, and a restraining discipline of his troops, that recalled the march of Caesar from the Rubicon. On October 27, 312, he met the forces of Maxentius at Saxa Rubra (Red Rocks) nine miles north of Rome; and by superior strategy compelled Maxentius to fight with his back to the Tiber, and no retreat possible except over the Mulvian Bridge. On the afternoon before the battle, says Eusebius,²⁸ Constantine saw a flaming cross in the sky, with the Greek words en toutoi nika—“in this sign conquer.”^* Early the next morning, according to Eusebius and Lactantius,³¹ Constantine dreamed that a voice commanded him to have his soldiers mark upon their shields the letter X with a line drawn through it and curled around the top—the symbol of Christ. On arising he obeyed, and then advanced into the forefront of battle behind a standard (known henceforth as the labarum) carrying the initials of Christ interwoven with a cross. As Maxentius displayed the Mithraic-Aurelian banner of the Unconquerable Sun, Constantine cast in his lot with the Christians, who were numerous in his army, and made the engagement a turning point in the history of religion. To the worshipers of Mithras in Constantine’s forces the cross could give no offense, for they had long fought under a standard bearing a Mithraic cross of light.³² In any case Constantine won the battle of the Mulvian Bridge, and Maxentius perished in the Tiber with thousands of his troops. The victor entered Rome the welcomed and undisputed master of the West.

Early in 313 Constantine and Licinius met at Milan to co-ordinate their rule. To consolidate Christian support in all provinces, Constantine and Licinius issued an “Edict of Milan,” confirming the religious toleration proclaimed by Galerius, extending it to all religions, and ordering the restoration of Christian properties seized during the recent persecutions. After this historic declaration, which in effect conceded the defeat of paganism, Constantine returned to the defense of Gaul, and Licinius moved eastward to overwhelm Maximinus (313). The death of Maximinus shortly afterward left Constantine and Licinius the unchallenged rulers of the Empire. Licinius married Constantine’s sister, and a war-weary people rejoiced at the prospect of peace.

But neither of the Augusti had quite abandoned the hope of undivided supremacy. In 314 their mounting enmity reached the point of war. Constantine invaded Pannonia, defeated Licinius, and exacted the surrender of all Roman Europe except Thrace. Licinius revenged himself upon Constantine’s Christian supporters by renewing the persecution in Asia and Egypt. He excluded Christians from his palace at Nicomedia, required every soldier to adore the pagan gods, forbade the simultaneous attendance of both sexes at Christian worship, and at last prohibited all Christian services within city walls. Disobedient Christians lost their positions, their citizenship, their property, their liberty, or their lives.

Constantine watched for an opportunity not only to succor the Christians of the East, but to add the East to his realm. When barbarians invaded Thrace, and Licinius failed to move against them, Constantine led his army from Thessalonica to the rescue of Licinius’ province. After the barbarians were driven back Licinius protested Constantine’s entry into Thrace; and as neither ruler desired peace, war was renewed. The defender of Christianity, with 130,000 men, met the defender of paganism, with 160,000 men, first at Adrianople and then at Chrysopolis (Scutari), won, and became sole emperor (323). Licinius surrendered on a promise of pardon; but in the following year he was executed on the charge that he had resumed his intrigues. Constantine recalled the Christian exiles, and restored to all “confessors” their lost privileges and property. While still proclaiming liberty of worship for all, he now definitely declared himself a Christian, and invited his subjects to join him in embracing the new faith.

III. CONSTANTINE AND CHRISTIANITY

Was his conversion sincere—was it an act of religious belief, or a consummate stroke of political wisdom? Probably the latter.³³ His mother Helena had turned to Christianity when Constantius divorced her; presumably she had acquainted her son with the excellences of the Christian way; and doubtless he had been impressed by the invariable victory that had crowned his arms under the banner and cross of Christ. But only a skeptic would have made so subtle a use of the religious feelings of humanity. The Historia Augusta quotes him as saying, “it is Fortuna that makes a man emperor”³⁴—though this was a bow to modesty rather than to chance. In his Gallic court he had surrounded himself with pagan scholars and philosophers.³⁵ After his conversion he seldom conformed to the ceremonial requirements of Christian worship. His letters to Christian bishops make it clear that he cared little for the theological differences that agitated Christendom—though he was willing to suppress dissent in the interests of imperial unity. Throughout his reign he treated the bishops as his political aides; he summoned them, presided over their councils, and agreed to enforce whatever opinion their majority should formulate. A real believer would have been a Christian first and a statesman afterward; with Constantine it was the reverse. Christianity was to him a means, not an end.

He had seen in his lifetime the failure of three persecutions; and it was not lost upon him that Christianity had grown despite them. Its adherents were still very much in the minority; but they were relatively united, brave, and strong, while the pagan majority was divided among many creeds, and included a dead weight of simple souls without conviction or influence. Christians were especially numerous in Rome under Maxentius, and in the East under Licinius; Constantine’s support of Christianity was worth a dozen legions to him in his wars against these men. He was impressed by the comparative order and morality of Christian conduct, the bloodless beauty of Christian ritual, the obedience of Christians to their clergy, their humble acceptance of life’s inequalities in the hope of happiness beyond the grave; perhaps this new religion would purify Roman morals, regenerate marriage and the family, and allay the fever of class war. The Christians, despite bitter oppression, had rarely revolted against the state; their teachers had inculcated submission to the civil powers, and had taught the divine right of kings. Constantine aspired to an absolute monarchy; such a government would profit from religious support; the hierarchical discipline and ecumenical authority of the Church seemed to offer a spiritual correlate for monarchy. Perhaps that marvelous organization of bishops and priests could become an instrument of pacification, unification, and rule?

Nevertheless, in a world still preponderantly pagan, Constantine had to feel his way by cautious steps. He continued to use vague monotheistic language that any pagan could accept. During the earlier years of his supremacy he carried out patiently the ceremonial required of him as pontifex maximus of the traditional cult; he restored pagan temples, and ordered the taking of the auspices. He used pagan as well as Christian rites in dedicating Constantinople. He used pagan magic formulas to protect crops and heal disease.³⁶

Gradually, as his power grew more secure, he favored Christianity more openly. After 317 his coins dropped one by one their pagan effigies, until by 323 they bore only neutral inscriptions. A legal text of his reign, questioned but not disproved, gave Christian bishops the authority of judges in their dioceses;³⁷ other laws exempted Church realty from taxation,³⁸ made Christian associations juridical persons, allowed them to own land and receive bequests, and assigned the property of intestate martyrs to the Church.³⁹ Constantine gave money to needy congregations, built several churches in Constantinople and elsewhere, and forbade the worship of images in the new capital. Forgetting the Edict of Milan, he prohibited the meetings of heretical sects, and finally ordered the destruction of their conventicles.⁴⁰ He gave his sons an orthodox Christian education, and financed his mother’s Christian philanthropies. The Church rejoiced in blessings beyond any expectation. Eusebius broke out into orations that were songs of gratitude and praise; and all over the Empire Christians gathered in festal thanksgiving for the triumph of their God.

Three clouds softened the brilliance of this “cloudless day”: the monastic secession, the Donatist schism, the Arian heresy. In the interval between the Decian and the Diocletian persecution the Church had become the richest religious organization in the Empire, and had moderated its attacks upon wealth. Cyprian complained that his parishioners were mad about money, that Christian women painted their faces, that bishops held lucrative offices of state, made fortunes, lent money at usurious interest, and denied their faith at the first sign of danger.⁴¹ Eusebius mourned that priests quarreled violently in their competition for ecclesiastical preferment.⁴² While Christianity converted the world, the world converted Christianity, and displayed the natural paganism of mankind. Christian monasticism arose as a protest against this mutual adjustment of the spirit and the flesh. A minority wished to avoid any indulgence of human appetite, and to continue the early Christian absorption in thoughts of eternal life. Following the custom of the Cynics, some of these ascetics renounced all possessions, donned the ragged robe of the philosopher, and subsisted on alms. A few, like Paul the Hermit, went to live as solitaries in the Egyptian desert. About 275 an Egyptian monk, Anthony, began a quarter century of isolated existence first in a tomb, then in an abandoned mountain castle, then in a rock-hewn desert cell. There he struggled nightly with frightful visions and pleasant dreams, and overcame them all; until at last his reputation for sanctity filled all Christendom, and peopled the desert with emulating eremites. In 325 Pachomius, feeling that solitude was selfishness, gathered anchorites into an abbey at Tabenne in Egypt, and founded that cenobitic, or community, monasticism which was to have its most influential development in the West. The Church opposed the monastic movement for a time, and then accepted it as a necessary balance to its increasing preoccupation with government.

Within a year after Constantine’s conversion the Church was torn by a schism that might have ruined it in the very hour of victory. Donatus, Bishop of Carthage, supported by a priest of like name and temper, insisted that Christian bishops who had surrendered the Scriptures to the pagan police during the persecutions had forfeited their office and powers; that baptisms or ordinations performed by such bishops were null and void; and that the validity of sacraments depended in part upon the spiritual state of the ministrant. When the Church refused to adopt this stringent creed, the Donatists set up rival bishops wherever the existing prelate failed to meet their tests. Constantine, who had thought of Christianity as a unifying force, was dismayed by the chaos and violence that ensued, and was presumably not unmoved by the occasional alliance of Donatists with radical movements among the African peasantry. He called a council of bishops at Aries (314), confirmed its denunciation of the Donatists, ordered the schismatics to return to the Church, and decreed that recalcitrant congregations should lose their property and their civil rights (316). Five years later, in a momentary reminiscence of the Milan edict, he withdrew these measures, and gave the Donatists a scornful toleration. The schism continued till the Saracens overwhelmed orthodox and heretic alike in the conquest of Africa.

In those same years Alexandria saw the rise of the most challenging heresy in the history of the Church. About 318 a priest from the Egyptian town of Baucalis startled his bishop with strange opinions about the nature of Christ. A learned Catholic historian describes him generously:

Arius . . . was tall and thin, of melancholy look, and an aspect that showed traces of his austerities. He was known to be an ascetic, as could be seen from his costume—a short tunic without sleeves, under a scarf that served as a cloak. His manner of speaking was gentle; his addresses were persuasive. The consecrated virgins, who were numerous in Alexandria, held him in great esteem; and he counted many stanch supporters among the higher clergy.⁴³

Christ, said Arius, was not one with the Creator, he was rather the Logos, the first and highest of all created beings. Bishop Alexander protested, Arius persisted. If, he argued, the Son had been begotten of the Father, it must have been in time; the Son therefore could not be coeternal with the Father. Furthermore, if Christ was created, it must have been from nothing, not from the Father’s substance; Christ was not “consubstantial” with the Father.⁴⁴ The Holy Spirit was begotten by the Logos, and was still less God than the Logos. We see in these doctrines the continuity of ideas from Plato through the Stoics, Philo, Plotinus, and Origen to Arius; Platonism, which had so deeply influenced Christian theology, was now in conflict with the Church.

Bishop Alexander was shocked not only by these views but by their rapid spread even among the clergy. He called a council of Egyptian bishops at Alexandria, persuaded it to unfrock Arius and his followers, and sent an account of the proceedings to other bishops. Some of these objected; many priests sympathized with Arius, throughout the Asiatic provinces clergy as well as laity divided on the issue, and made the cities ring with such “tumult and disorder . . . that the Christian religion,” says Eusebius, “afforded a subject of profane merriment to the pagans, even in their theaters.”⁴⁵ Constantine, coming to Nicomedia after overthrowing Licinius, heard the story from its bishop. He sent both Alexander and Arius a personal appeal to imitate the calm of philosophers, to reconcile their differences peaceably, or at least to keep their debates from the public ear. The letter, preserved by Eusebius, clearly reveals Constantine’s lack of theology, and the political purpose of his religious policy.

I had proposed to lead back to a single form the ideas which all people conceive of the Deity; for I feel strongly that if I could induce men to unite on that subject, the conduct of public affairs would be considerably eased. But alas! I hear that there are more disputes among you than recently in Africa. The cause seems to be quite trifling, and unworthy of such fierce contests. You, Alexander, wished to know what your priests were thinking on a point of law, even on a portion only of a question in itself entirely devoid of importance; and you, Arius, if you had such thoughts, should have kept silence. . . . There was no need to make these questions public . . . since they are problems that idleness alone raises, and whose only use is to sharpen men’s wits . . . these are silly actions worthy of inexperienced children, and not of priests or reasonable man.⁴⁶

The letter had no effect. To the Church the question of the “consubstantiality” (homoousia) as against the mere similarity (homoiousia) of the Son and the Father was vital both theologically and politically. If Christ was not God, the whole structure of Christian doctrine would begin to crack; and if division were permitted on this question, chaos of belief might destroy the unity and authority of the Church, and therefore its value as an aide to the state. As the controversy spread, setting the Greek East aflame, Constantine resolved to end it by calling the first ecumenical—universal—council of the Church. He summoned all bishops to meet in 325 at Bithynian Nicaea, near his capital Nicomedia, and provided funds for all their expenses. Not less than 318 bishops came, “attended” says one of them, “by a vast concourse of the lower clergy”: ⁴⁷ the statement reveals the immense growth of the Church. Most of the bishops were from the Eastern provinces; many Western dioceses ignored the controversy; and Pope Silvester I, detained by illness, was content to be represented by some priests.

The Council met in the hall of an imperial palace. Constantine presided and opened the proceedings by a brief appeal to the bishops to restore the unity of the Church. He “listened patiently to the debates,” reports Eusebius, “moderated the violence of the contending parties,”⁴⁸ and himself joined in the argument. Arius reaffirmed his view that Christ was a created being, not equal to the Father, but “divine only by participation.” Clever questioners forced him to admit that if Christ was a creature, and had had a beginning, he could change; and that if he could change he might pass from virtue to vice. The answers were logical, honest, and suicidal. Athanasius, the eloquent and pugnacious archdeacon whom Alexander had brought with him as a theological sword, made it clear that if Christ and the Holy Spirit were not of one substance with the Father, polytheism would triumph. He conceded the difficulty of picturing three distinct persons in one God, but argued that reason must bow to the mystery of the Trinity. All but seventeen of the bishops agreed with him, and signed a statement expressing his view. The supporters of Arius agreed to sign if they might add one iota, changing homoousion to homoiousion. The Council refused, and issued with the Emperor’s approval the following creed:

We believe in one God, the Father Almighty, maker of all things visible or invisible; and in one Lord Jesus Christ, the Son of God, begotten . . . not made, being of one essence (homoousion) with the Father . . . who for us men and our salvation came down and was made flesh, was made man, suffered, rose again the third day, ascended into heaven, and comes to judge the quick and the dead. . . .^{* 49}

Only five bishops, finally only two, refused to sign this formula. These two, with the unrepentant Arius, were anathematized by the Council and exiled by the Emperor. An imperial edict ordered that all books by Arius should be burned, and made the concealment of such a book punishable with death.†

Constantine celebrated the conclusion of the Council with a royal dinner, to all the assembled bishops, and then dismissed them with the request that they should not tear one another to pieces.⁵¹ He was mistaken in thinking that the controversy was ended, or that he himself would not change his view of it, but he was right in believing that he had struck a great blow for the unity of the Church. The Council signalized the conviction of the ecclesiastical majority that the organization and survival of the Church required a certain fixity of doctrine; and in final effect it achieved that practical unanimity of basic belief which gave the medieval Church its Catholic name. At the same time it marked the replacement of paganism with Christianity as the religious expression and support of the Roman Empire, and committed Constantine to a more definite alliance with Christianity than ever before. A new civilization, based on a new religion, would now rise over the ruins of an exhausted culture and a dying creed. The Middle Ages had begun.

IV. CONSTANTINE AND CIVILIZATION

A year after the Council Constantine dedicated, amid the desolation of Byzantium, a new city which he termed Nova Roma, and which posterity called by his name. In 330 he turned his back upon both Rome and Nicomedia, and made Constantinople his capital. There he surrounded himself with the impressive pomp of an Oriental court, feeling that its psychological influence upon army and people would make its expensive pageantry a subtle economy in government. He protected the army with able diplomacy and arms, tempered despotism with humane decrees, and lent his aid to letters and the arts. He encouraged the schools at Athens, and founded at Constantinople a new university where state-paid professors taught Greek and Latin, literature and philosophy, rhetoric and law, and trained officials for the Empire.⁵² He confirmed and extended the privileges of physicians and teachers in all provinces. Provincial governors were instructed to establish schools of architecture, and to draw students to them with divers privileges and rewards. Artists were exempted from civic obligations, so that they might have time to learn their art thoroughly and transmit it to their sons. The art treasures of the Empire were drawn upon to make Constantinople an elegant capital.

In Rome the architectural works of this period were inaugurated by Maxentius. He began (306), and Constantine finished, an immense basilica that marked the climax of classical architecture in the West. Adapting the structure of the great baths, this edifice covered an area 330 by 250 feet. Its central hall, 114 by 82 feet, was roofed by three cross vaults of concrete 120 feet high, partly supported by eight broad piers faced with fluted Corinthian columns sixty feet tall. Its pavement was of colored marble; its bays were peopled with statuary; and the walls of these bays were prolonged above their roofs to serve as elevated buttresses for the central vaults. Gothic and Renaissance architects found much instruction in these vaults and buttresses. Bramante, designing St. Peter’s, planned to “raise the Pantheon over the Basilica of Constantine”⁵³—i.e., to crown a spacious nave with a massive dome.

The first Christian emperor built many churches in Rome, probably including the original form of San Lorenzo outside the Walls. To celebrate his victory at the Mulvian Bridge he raised in 315 the arch that still towers over the Via dei Trionfi. It is one of the best preserved of Rome’s remains; and its majesty is not visibly injured by the diverse pilferage of its parts. Four finely proportioned shafts, rising from sculptured bases, divide the three arches, and support an ornate entablature. The attic story bears reliefs and statues taken from monuments of Trajan and Aurelius; while the medallions between the columns are from some building of Hadrian’s reign. Two of the reliefs appear to be the work of Constantine’s artists. The crude squat figures, the awkward quarrel of profile faces with frontal legs, the rude piling of heads upon heads as a substitute for perspective, betray a coarsening of technique and taste; but the deep drilling produces, in the play of light and shade, an impressive effect of depth and space; and the episodes are presented with a rough vitality as if Italian art had resolved to return to its source. The colossal figure of Constantine in the Palazzo dei Conservatori carries this primitiveness to a repellent extreme; it seems incredible that the man who presided so graciously over the Council of Nicaea should have resembled this dour barbarian—unless the artist had a mind to illustrate in advance the cynical summary of Gibbon: “I have described the triumph of barbarism and religion.”⁵⁴

Early in this fourth century a new art took form—the “illumination” of manuscripts with miniature paintings. Literature itself was now predominantly Christian. Lucius Firmianus Lactantius expounded Christianity eloquently in Divinae Institutiones (307), and in De Mortibus Persecutorum (314) described the final agonies of the persecuting emperors with Ciceronian elegance and venom. “Religion,” wrote Lactantius, “must by its very nature be untrammeled, unforced, free”⁵⁵—a heresy which he did not live to expiate. More famous was Eusebius Pamphili, bishop of Caesarea. He began his literary career as a priestly scribe and librarian for his episcopal predecessor, Pamphilus, whom he loved so well that he adopted his name. Pamphilus had acquired Origen’s library, and had built around it the largest Christian collection of books yet known. Living among these volumes, Eusebius became the most erudite cleric of his time. Pamphilus lost his life in the Galerian persecution (310), and Eusebius was much plagued by later queries as to how he himself had survived. He made diverse enemies by taking a middle position between Arius and Alexander; nevertheless, he became the Bossuet of Constantine’s court, and was commissioned to write the imperial biography. Part of his scholastic harvest was gathered into a Universal History—the most complete of ancient chronologies. Eusebius arranged sacred and profane history in parallel columns divided by a synchronizing row of dates, and tried to fix the time of every important event from Abraham to Constantine. All later chronologies rested on this “canon.”

Putting flesh upon these bones, Eusebius issued in 325 an Ecclesiastical History describing the development of the Church from its beginnings to the Council of Nicaea. Here in the first chapter, again serving as a model for Bossuet, was the earliest philosophy of history—portraying time as the battleground of God and Satan, and all events as advancing the triumph of Christ. The book was poorly arranged but well written. The sources were critically and conscientiously examined, the statements are as accurate as in any ancient work of history; and at every turn Eusebius put posterity in his debt by quoting important documents that would otherwise have been lost. The bishop’s learning is enormous, his style is warmed with feeling and rises to eloquence in moments of theological odium. He frankly excludes such matters as might not edify his Christian readers or support his philosophy, and he manages to write a history of the great Council without mentioning either Arius or Athanasius. The same honest dishonesty makes his Life of Constantine a panegyric rather than a biography. It begins with eight inspiring chapters on the Emperor’s piety and good works, and tells how he “governed his empire in a godly manner for more than thirty years.” One would never guess from this book that Constantine had killed his son, his nephew, and his wife.

For like Augustus, Constantine had managed well everything but his family. His relations with his mother were generally happy. Apparently by his commission she went to Jerusalem, and leveled to the ground the scandalous Temple of Aphrodite that had been built, it was said, over the Saviour’s tomb. According to Eusebius the Holy Sepulcher thereupon came to light, with the very cross on which Christ had died. Constantine ordered a Church of the Holy Sepulcher to be built over the tomb, and the revered relics were preserved in a special shrine. As in classical days the pagan world had cherished and adored the relics of the Trojan War, and even Rome had boasted the Palladium of Troy’s Athene, so now the Christian world, changing its surface and renewing its essence in the immemorial manner of human life, began to collect and worship relics of Christ and the saints. Helena raised a chapel over the traditional site of Jesus’ birth at Bethlehem, modestly served the nuns who ministered there, and then returned to Constantinople to die in the arms of her son.

Constantine had been twice married: first to Minervina, who had borne him a son Crispus; then to Maximian’s daughter Fausta, by whom he had three daughters and three sons. Crispus became an excellent soldier, and rendered vital aid to his father in the campaigns against Licinius. In 326 Crispus was put to death by Constantine’s order; about the same time the Emperor decreed the execution of Licinianus, son of Licinius by Constantine’s sister Constantia; and shortly thereafter Fausta was slain by her husband’s command. We do not know the reasons for this triple execution. Zosimus assures us that Crispus had made love to Fausta, who accused him to the Emperor; and that Helena, who loved Crispus dearly, had avenged him by persuading Constantine that his wife had yielded to his son.⁵⁷ Possibly Fausta had schemed to remove Crispus from the path of her sons’ rise to imperial power, and Licinianus may have been killed for plotting to claim his father’s share of the realm.

Fausta achieved her aim after her death, for in 335 Constantine bequeathed the Empire to his surviving sons and nephews. Two years later, at Easter, he celebrated with festival ceremonies the thirtieth year of his reign. Then, feeling the nearness of death, he went to take the warm baths at near-by Aquyrion. As his illness increased, he called for a priest to administer to him that sacrament of baptism which he had purposely deferred to this moment, hoping to be cleansed by it from all the sins of his crowded life. Then the tired ruler, aged sixty-four, laid aside the purple robes of royalty, put on the white garb of a Christian neophyte, and passed away.

He was a masterly general, a remarkable administrator, a superlative statesman. He inherited and completed the restorative work of Diocletian; through them the Empire lived 1150 years more. He continued the monarchical forms of Aurelian and Diocletian, partly out of ambition and vanity, partly, no doubt, because he believed that absolute rule was demanded by the chaos of the times. His greatest error lay in dividing the Empire among his sons; presumably he foresaw that they would fight for sole supremacy as he had done, but surmised that they would fight even more certainly if he chose another heir; this, too, is a price of monarchy. His executions we cannot judge, not knowing their provocation; burdened with the problems of rule, he may have allowed fear and jealousy to dethrone his reason for a while; and there are signs that remorse weighed heavily upon his declining years. His Christianity, beginning as policy, appears to have graduated into sincere conviction. He became the most persistent preacher in his realm, persecuted heretics faithfully, and took God into partnership at every step. Wiser than Diocletian, he gave new life to an aging Empire by associating it with a young religion, a vigorous organization, a fresh morality. By his aid Christianity became a state as well as a church, and the mold, for fourteen centuries, of European life and thought. Perhaps, if we except Augustus, the grateful Church was right in naming him the greatest of the emperors.

Epilogue

I. WHY ROME FELL

“THE two greatest problems in history,” says a brilliant scholar of our time, are “how to account for the rise of Rome, and how to account for her fall.”¹ We may come nearer to understanding them if we remember that the fall of Rome, like her rise, had not one cause but many, and was not an event but a process spread over 300 years. Some nations have not lasted as long as Rome fell.

A great civilization is not conquered from without until it has destroyed itself within. The essential causes of Rome’s decline lay in her people, her morals, her class struggle, her failing trade, her bureaucratic despotism, her stifling taxes, her consuming wars. Christian writers were keenly appreciative of this decay. Tertullian, about 200, heralded with pleasure the ipsa clausula saeculi—literally the fin de siècle or end of an era—as probably a prelude to the destruction of the pagan world. Cyprian, towards 250, answering the charge that Christians were the source of the Empire’s misfortunes, attributed these to natural causes:

You must know that the world has grown old, and does not remain in its former vigor. It bears witness to its own decline. The rainfall and the sun’s warmth are both diminishing; the metals are nearly exhausted; the husbandman is failing in the fields.²

Barbarian inroads, and centuries of mining the richer veins, had doubtless lowered Rome’s supply of the precious metals. In central and southern Italy deforestation, erosion, and the neglect of irrigation canals by a diminishing peasantry and a disordered government had left Italy poorer than before. The cause, however, was no inherent exhaustion of the soil, no change in climate, but the negligence and sterility of harassed and discouraged men.

Biological factors were more fundamental. A serious decline of population appears in the West after Hadrian. It has been questioned, but the mass importation of barbarians into the Empire by Aurelius, Valentinian, Aurelian, Probus, and Constantine leaves little room for doubt.³ Aurelius, to replenish his army, enrolled slaves, gladiators, policemen, criminals; either the crisis was greater, or the free population less, than before; and the slave population had certainly fallen. So many farms had been abandoned, above all in Italy, that Pertinax offered them gratis to anyone who would till them. A law of Septimius Severus speaks of a penuria hominum—a shortage of men.⁴ In Greece the depopulation had been going on for centuries. In Alexandria, which had boasted of its numbers, Bishop Dionysius calculated that the population had in his time (250) been halved. He mourned to “see the human race diminishing and constantly wasting away.”⁵ Only the barbarians and the Orientals were increasing, outside the Empire and within.

What had caused this fall in population? Above all, family limitation. Practiced first by the educated classes, it had now seeped down to a proletariat named for its fertility;⁶ by A.D. 100 it had reached the agricultural classes, as shown by the use of imperial alimenta to encourage rural parentage; by the third century it had overrun the western provinces, and was lowering man power in Gaul.⁷ Though branded as a crime, infanticide flourished as poverty grew.⁸ Sexual excesses may have reduced human fertility; the avoidance or deferment of marriage had a like effect, and the making of eunuchs increased as Oriental customs flowed into the West. Plantianus, Praetorian Prefect, had one hundred boys emasculated, and then gave them to his daughter as a wedding gift.⁹

Second only to family limitation as a cause of lessened population were the slaughters of pestilence, revolution, and war. Epidemics of major proportions decimated the population under Aurelius, Gallienus, and Constantine. In the plague of 260-65 almost every family in the Empire was attacked; in Rome, we are told, there were 5000 deaths every day for many weeks.¹⁰ The mosquitoes of the Campagna were winning their war against the human invaders of the Pontine marshes, and malaria was sapping the strength of rich and poor in Latium and Tuscany. The holocausts of war and revolution, and perhaps the operation of contraception, abortion, and infanticide, had a dysgenic as well as a numerical effect: the ablest men married latest, bred least, and died soonest. The dole weakened the poor, luxury weakened the rich; and a long peace deprived all classes in the peninsula of the martial qualities and arts. The Germans who were now peopling north Italy and filling the army were physically and morally superior to the surviving native stock; if time had allowed a leisurely assimilation they might have absorbed the classic culture and reinvigorated the Italian blood. But time was not so generous Moreover, the population of Italy had long since been mingled with Oriental strains physically inferior, though perhaps mentally superior, to the Roman type. The rapidly breeding Germans could not understand the classic culture, did not accept it, did not transmit it; the rapidly breeding Orientals were mostly of a mind to destroy that culture; the Romans, possessing it, sacrificed it to the comforts of sterility. Rome was conquered not by barbarian invasion from without, but by barbarian multiplication within.

Moral decay contributed to the dissolution. The virile character that had been formed by arduous simplicities and a supporting faith relaxed in the sunshine of wealth and the freedom of unbelief; men had now, in the middle and upper classes, the means to yield to temptation, and only expediency to restrain them. Urban congestion multiplied contacts and frustrated surveillance; immigration brought together a hundred cultures whose differences rubbed themselves out into indifference. Moral and esthetic standards were lowered by the magnetism of the mass; and sex ran riot in freedom while political liberty decayed.

The greatest of historians held that Christianity was the chief cause of Rome’s fall.¹¹ For this religion, he and his followers¹² argued, had destroyed the old faith that had given moral character to the Roman soul and stability to the Roman state. It had declared war upon the classic culture—upon science, philosophy, literature, and art. It had brought an enfeebling Oriental mysticism into the realistic stoicism of Roman life; it had turned men’s thoughts from the tasks of this world to an enervating preparation for some cosmic catastrophe, and had lured them into seeking individual salvation through asceticism and prayer, rather than collective salvation through devotion to the state. It had disrupted the unity of the Empire while soldier emperors were struggling to preserve it; it had discouraged its adherents from holding office, or rendering military service; it had preached an ethic of nonresistance and peace when the survival of the Empire had demanded a will to war. Christ’s victory had been Rome’s death.

There is some truth in this hard indictment. Christianity unwillingly shared in the chaos of creeds that helped produce that medley of mores which moderately contributed to Rome’s collapse. But the growth of Christianity was more an effect than a cause of Rome’s decay. The breakup of the old religion had begun long before Christ; there were more vigorous attacks upon it in Ennius and Lucretius than in any pagan author after them. Moral disintegration had begun with the Roman conquest of Greece, and had culminated under Nero; thereafter Roman morals improved, and the ethical influence of Christianity upon Roman life was largely a wholesome one. It was because Rome was already dying that Christianity grew so rapidly. Men lost faith in the state not because Christianity held them aloof, but because the state defended wealth against poverty, fought to capture slaves, taxed toil to support luxury, and failed to protect its people from famine, pestilence, invasion, and destitution; forgivably they turned from Caesar preaching war to Christ preaching peace, from incredible brutality to unprecedented charity, from a life without hope or dignity to a faith that consoled their poverty and honored their humanity. Rome was not destroyed by Christianity, any more than by barbarian invasion; it was an empty shell when Christianity rose to influence and invasion came.

The economic causes of Rome’s decline have already been stated as prerequisite to the understanding of Diocletian’s reforms; they need only a reminding summary here. The precarious dependence upon provincial grains, the collapse of the slave supply and the latifundia; the deterioration of transport and the perils of trade; the loss of provincial markets to provincial competition; the inability of Italian industry to export the equivalent of Italian imports, and the consequent drain of precious metals to the East; the destructive war between rich and poor; the rising cost of armies, doles, public works, an expanding bureaucracy, and a parasitic court; the depreciation of the currency; the discouragement of ability, and the absorption of investment capital, by confiscatory taxation; the emigration of capital and labor, the strait jacket of serfdom placed upon agriculture, and of caste forced upon industry: all these conspired to sap the material bases of Italian life, until at last the power of Rome was a political ghost surviving its economic death.

The political causes of decay were rooted in one fact—that increasing despotism destroyed the citizen’s civic sense and dried up statesmanship at its source. Powerless to express his political will except by violence, the Roman lost interest in government and became absorbed in his business, his amusements, his legion, or his individual salvation. Patriotism and the pagan religion had been bound together, and now together decayed.¹³ The Senate, losing ever more of its power and prestige after Pertinax, relapsed into indolence, subservience, or venality; and the last barrier fell that might have saved the state from militarism and anarchy. Local governments, overrun by imperial correctores and exactores, no longer attracted first-rate men. The responsibility of municipal officials for the tax quotas of their areas, the rising expense of their unpaid honors, the fees, liturgies, benefactions, and games expected of them, the dangers incident to invasion and class war, led to a flight from office corresponding to the flight from taxes, factories, and farms. Men deliberately made themselves ineligible by debasing their social category; some fled to other towns, some became farmers, some monks. In 313 Constantine extended to the Christian clergy that exemption from municipal office, and from several taxes, which pagan priests had traditionally enjoyed; the Church was soon swamped with candidates for ordination, and cities complained of losses in revenue and senators; in the end Constantine was compelled to rule that no man eligible for municipal position should be admitted to the priesthood.¹⁴ The imperial police pursued fugitives from political honors as it hunted evaders of taxes or conscription; it brought them back to the cities and forced them to serve;¹⁵ finally it decreed that a son must inherit the social status of his father, and must accept election if eligible to it by his rank. A serfdom of office rounded out the prison of economic caste.

Gallienus, fearing a revolt of the Senate, excluded senators from the army. As martial material no longer grew in Italy, this decree completed the military decline of the peninsula. The rise of provincial and mercenary armies, the overthrow of the Praetorian Guard by Septimius Severus, the emergence of provincial generals, and their capture of the imperial throne, destroyed the leadership, even the independence, of Italy long before the fall of the Empire in the West. The armies of Rome were no longer Roman armies; they were composed chiefly of provincials, largely of barbarians; they fought not for their altars and their homes, but for their wages, their donatives, and their loot. They attacked and plundered the cities of the Empire with more relish than they showed in facing the enemy; most of them were the sons of peasants who hated the rich and the cities as exploiters of the poor and the countryside; and as civil strife provided opportunity, they sacked such towns with a thoroughness that left little for alien barbarism to destroy.¹⁶ When military problems became more important than internal affairs, cities near the frontiers were made the seats of government; Rome became a theater for triumphs, a show place of imperial architecture, a museum of political antiquities and forms. The multiplication of capitals and the division of power broke down the unity of administration. The Empire, grown too vast for its statesmen to rule or its armies to defend, began to disintegrate. Left to protect themselves unaided against the Germans and the Scots, Gaul and Britain chose their own imperatores, and made them sovereign; Palmyra seceded under Zenobia, and soon Spain and Africa would yield almost unresisting to barbarian conquest. In the reign of Gallienus thirty generals governed thirty regions of the Empire in practical independence of the central power. In this awful drama of a great state breaking into pieces, the internal causes were the unseen protagonists; the invading barbarians merely entered where weakness had opened the door, and where the failure of biological, moral, economic, and political statesmanship had left the stage to chaos, despondency, and decay.

Externally the fall of the Western Roman Empire was hastened by the expansion and migration of the Hsiung-nu, or Huns, in northwestern Asia. Defeated in their eastward advance by Chinese armies and the Chinese Wall, they turned westward, and about A.D. 355 reached the Volga and the Oxus. Their pressure forced the Sarmatians of Russia to move into the Balkans; the Goths, so harassed, moved again upon the Roman frontiers. They were admitted across the Danube to settle in Moesia (376); maltreated there by Roman officials, they revolted, defeated a large Roman army at Adrianople (378), and for a time threatened Constantinople. In 400 Alaric led the Visigoths over the Alps into Italy, and in 410 they took and sacked Rome. In 429 Gaiseric led the Vandals to the conquest of Spain and Africa, and in 455 they took and sacked Rome. In 451 Attila led the Huns in an attack upon Gaul and Italy; he was defeated at Chalons, but overran Lombardy. In 472 a Pannonian general, Orestes, made his son emperor under the name of Romulus Augustulus. Four years later the barbarian mercenaries who dominated the Roman army deposed this “little Augustus,” and named their leader Odoacer king of Italy. Odoacer recognized the supremacy of the Roman emperor at Constantinople, and was accepted by him as a vassal king. The Roman Empire in the East would go on until 1453; in the West it had come to an end.

II. THE ROMAN ACHIEVEMENT

It is easier to explain Rome’s fall than to account for her long survival. This is the essential accomplishment of Rome—that having won the Mediterranean world she adopted its culture, gave it order, prosperity, and peace for 200 years, held back the tide of barbarism for two centuries more, and transmitted the classic heritage to the West before she died.

Rome has had no rival in the art of government. The Roman state committed a thousand political crimes; it built its edifice upon a selfish oligarchy and an obscurantist priesthood; it achieved a democracy of freemen, and then destroyed it with corruption and violence; it exploited its conquests to support a parasitic Italy, which, when it could no longer exploit, collapsed. Here and there, in East and West, it created a desert and called it peace. But amid all this evil it formed a majestic system of law which through nearly all Europe gave security to life and property, incentive and continuity to industry, from the Decemvirs to Napoleon. It molded a government of separated legislative and executive powers whose checks and balances inspired the makers of constitutions as late as revolutionary America and France. For a time it united monarchy, aristocracy, and democracy so successfully as to win the applause of philosophers, historians, subjects, and enemies. It gave municipal institutions, and for a long period municipal freedom, to half a thousand cities. It administered its Empire at first with greed and cruelty, then with such tolerance and essential justice that the great realm has never again known a like content. It made the desert blossom with civilization, and atoned for its sins with the miracle of a lasting peace. Today our highest labors seek to revive the Pax Romana for a disordered world.

Within that unsurpassed framework Rome built a culture Greek in origin, Roman in application and result. She was too engrossed in government to create as bountifully in the realms of the mind as Greece had done; but she absorbed with appreciation, and preserved with tenacity, the technical, intellectual, and artistic heritage that she had received from Carthage and Egypt, Greece and the East. She made no advance in science, and no mechanical improvements in industry, but she enriched the world with a commerce moving over secure seas, and a network of enduring roads that became the arteries of a lusty life. Along those roads, and over a thousand handsome bridges, there passed to the medieval and modern worlds the ancient techniques of tillage, handicraft, and art, the science of monumental building, the processes of banking and investment, the organization of medicine and military hospitals, the sanitation of cities, and many varieties of fruit and nut trees, of agricultural or ornamental plants, brought from the East to take new root in the West. Even the secret of central heating came from the warm south to the cold north. The south has created the civilizations, the north has conquered and destroyed or borrowed them.

Rome did not invent education, but she developed it on a scale unknown before, gave it state support, and formed the curriculum that persisted till our harassed youth. She did not invent the arch, the vault, or the dome, but she used them with such audacity and magnificence that in some fields her architecture has remained unequaled; and all the elements of the medieval cathedral were prepared in her basilicas. She did not invent the sculptural portrait, but she gave it a realistic power rarely reached by the idealizing Greeks. She did not invent philosophy, but it was in Lucretius and Seneca that Epicureanism and Stoicism found their most finished form. She did not invent the types of literature, not even the satire; but who could adequately record the influence of Cicero on oratory, the essay, and prose style, of Virgil on Dante, Tasso, Milton, ... of Livy and Tacitus on the writing of history, of Horace and Juvenal on Dryden, Swift, and Pope?

Her language became, by a most admirable corruption, the speech of Italy, Rumania, France, Spain, Portugal, and Latin America; half the white man’s world speaks a Latin tongue. Latin was, till the eighteenth century, the Esperanto of science, scholarship, and philosophy in the West; it gave a convenient international terminology to botany and zoology; it survives in the sonorous ritual and official documents of the Roman Church; it still writes medical prescriptions, and haunts the phraseology of the law. It entered by direct appropriation, and again through the Romance languages (regalis, regal, royal; paganus, pagan, peasant), to enhance the wealth and flexibility of English speech. Our Roman heritage works in our lives a thousand times a day.

When Christianity conquered Rome the ecclesiastical structure of the pagan church, the title and vestments of the pontifex maximus, the worship of the Great Mother and a multitude of comforting divinities, the sense of supersensible presences everywhere, the joy or solemnity of old festivals, and the pageantry of immemorial ceremony, passed like maternal blood into the new religion, and captive Rome captured her conqueror. The reins and skills of government were handed down by a dying empire to a virile papacy; the lost power of the broken sword was rewon by the magic of the consoling word; the armies of the state were replaced by the missionaries of the Church moving in all directions along the Roman roads; and the revolted provinces, accepting Christianity, again acknowledged the sovereignty of Rome. Through the long struggles of the Age of Faith the authority of the ancient capital persisted and grew, until in the Renaissance the classic culture seemed to rise from the grave, and the immortal city became once more the center and summit of the world’s life and wealth and art. When, in 1936, Rome celebrated the 2689th anniversary of her foundation, she could look back upon the most impressive continuity of government and civilization in the history of mankind. May she rise again.

THANK YOU, PATIENT READER.

Bibliographical Guide

to books mentioned in the Notes

(Books marked with an asterisk are recommended for further study.)

ABBOTT, F., The Common People of Ancient Rome, N. Y., 1911.

ACTON, LORD, The History of Freedom, London, 1907.

ALCIPHRON, Letters, London, n.d.

ANDERSON, W., and SPIERS, R., The Architecture of Greece and Rome, London, 1902.

APOCRYPHA AND PSEUDEPIGRAPHA OF THE OLD TESTAMENT, Oxford, 1913. 2V.

APPIAN, Roman History, Loeb Classical Library. 4V.

APULEIUS, The Golden Ass, tr. W. Adlington, N. Y., 1927.

ARISTOTLE, Physics, Loeb Library. 2V.

^* Politics, Everyman Library.

ARNOLD, W., Roman System of Provincial Administration, Oxford, 1914.

ARRIAN, Anabasis of Alexander, London, 1893.

ATHENAEUS, The Deipnosophists, London, 1854, 3V.

AUGUSTINE, ST., The City of God, London, 1934.

Select Letters, Loeb Library.

AUGUSTUS, Res gestae, Loeb Library.

BAILEY, C., The Legacy of Rome, Oxford, n.d.

BALL, W. W., Short History of Mathematics, London, 1888.

BALSDON, J., The Emperor Gaius, Oxford, 1934.

^* BARNES, H. E., History of Western Civilization, N. Y., 1935. 2V

BARON, S., Social and Religious History of the Jews, N. Y., 1937. 3V.

BATTIFOL, L., The Century of the Renaissance, N. Y., 1935.

BEARD, M., History of the Business Man, N. Y., 1938.

BEVAN, E., The House of Seleucus, London, 1902, 2V.

The Legacy of Israel, Oxford, 1927.

^* BIBLE, Revised Version of the King James Translation.

BIEBER, M., History of the Greek and Roman Theater, Princeton, 1939.

BIGG, C., Neo-Platonism, London, 1935.

BOISSIER, G., L’Afrique romaine, Paris, 1935.

^* Cicero and His Friends, N. Y., n.d.

La fin du paganisme, Paris, 1894.

L’opposition sous les Césars, Paris, 1875.

La religion romaine, Paris, 1909. 2V.

Rome and Pompeii, London, 1896.

Tacitus and Other Roman Studies, London, 1906.

BOOKS OF ENOCH AND WISDOM, cf. Apocrypha.

BOUCHIER, E., Life and Letters in Roman Africa, Oxford, 1913.

BREASTED, J., Ancient Times, Boston, 1916.

Oriental Forerunners of Byzantine Painting, Chicago, 1924.

BRECCIA, E., Alexandrea ad Aegyptum, Bergamo, 1922.

BRITTAIN, A., Roman Women, Philadelphia, 1907.

BUCHAN, J., Augustus, N. Y., 1937.

BUCKLAND, W., Textbook of Roman Law, Cambridge U.P., 1921.

BURCKHARDT, J., Die Zeit Constantins des Grossen, Phaidon Verlag, Wien, n.d.

BURY, J., History of the Roman Empire, N. Y., n.d.

History of Freedom of Thought, N. Y., n.d.

CAESAR, J., De bello civili, Loeb Library.

De bello Gallico, Loeb Library.

CAMBRIDGE ANCIENT HISTORY, N. Y., 1924f. 12V.

CAMBRIDGE MEDIEVAL HISTORY, N. Y., 1924f. 8V.

CAPES, W., University Life in Ancient Athens, N. Y., 1922.

CARPENTER, EDW., Pagan and Christian Creeds, N. Y., 1920.

CARTER, T., The Invention of Printing in China, N. Y., 1925.

^*CASTIGLIONE, A., History of Medicine, N. Y., 1941.

CATHOLIC ENCYCLOPEDIA, N. Y., 1913. 16V.

CATO, M., De agri cultura, Loeb Library.

CATULLUS, Poems, tr. Horace Gregory, N. Y., 1931.

^* CATULLUS, Tibullus, and Pervigilium Veneris, Loeb Library.

CHARLESWORTH, M., Trade Routes and Commerce of the Roman Empire, Cambridge U.P., 1926.

CICERO, Academica, Loeb Library.

De divinatione, Loeb Library.

De finibus, Loeb Library.

De legibus, Loeb Library.

De natura Deorum, Loeb Library.

De officiis, Everyman Library.

De re publica, Loeb Library.

De senectute and De amicitia, Loeb Library.

Disputationes Tusculanae, Loeb Library.

Letters, tr. Melmoth; cf. Middleton.

Pro Milone and Other Speeches, Loeb Library.

CLEMENT OF ALEXANDRIA, Writings and Opinions, ed. Kaye, London, n.d.

COLLINGWOOD, R., and MYRES, N., Roman Britain, Oxford, 1937.

COLUMELLA, De re rustica, Loeb Library.

CONYBEARE, W. J., and Howson, J. S., Life, Times, and Travels of St. Paul, N. Y., 1869. 2V.

COULANGES, F. DE, The Ancient City, Boston, 1901.

CUMONT, F., Oriental Religions in Roman Paganism, Chicago, 1911.

CUNNINGHAM, W. C., Western Civilization in Its Economic Aspects, Cambridge U.P., 1900. 2V.

DAVIS, W. S., Influence of Wealth in Imperial Rome, N. Y., 1913.

DAVIS, W. S., and WEST, W. M., Readings in Ancient History, Boston, 1912.

DECLAREUIL, J., Rome the Law-Giver, N. Y., 1926.

DENNIS, G., Cities and Cemeteries of Etruria, Everyman Library. 2V.

^* DILL, SIR S., Roman Society from Nero to Marcus Aurelius, London, 1911.

DIO CASSIUS, History of Rome, Troy, N. Y., 1905. 8V.

DIO CHRYSOSTOM, Orations, Loeb Library. 3V.

DIODORUS SICULUS, Library of History, Loeb Library, IOV.

DIONYSIUS OF HALICARNASSUS, Roman Antiquities, London, 1758. 4V.

DOUGHTY, G., Travels in Arabia Deserta, N. Y., 1923. 2V.

DUCHESNE, MON. L., Early History of the Christian Church, London, 1933. 3V.

DUFF, J., Literary History of Rome, London, 1909.

Literary History of Rome in the Silver Age, N. Y., 1930.

DURUY, V., History of the Roman People, Boston, 1883. 8V.

EDERSHEIM, A., Life and Times of Jesus the Messiah, N. Y., n.d. 2V.

ENCYCLOPAEDIA BRITANNICA, 14th ed. 24V.

^* EPICTETUS, Works, Loeb Library. 2V.

Encheiridion, Girard, Kan., n.d.

EUSEBIUS PAMPHILUS, Ecclesiastical History, N. Y., 1839.

Historical View of the Council of Nice, in preceding.

Life of Constantine, in Ancient Ecclesiastical Histories, London, 1650.

Praeparatio evangelica, Oxford, 1843.

FATTORUSSO, J., Wonders of Italy, Florence, 1930.

FERRERO, G., Ancient Rome and Modern America, N. Y., 1914.

^* Greatness and Decline of Rome, N. Y., 1909. 5V.

The Ruin of Ancient Civilization, N. Y., 1921.

The Women of the Caesars, N. Y. n.d.

FINKELSTEIN, L., Akiba, N. Y., 1936.

^* FLAUBERT, G., Salammbo, Modern Library.

FLICK, A. C., Rise of the Medieval Church, N. Y., 1909.

FOAKES-JACKSON, F., and LAKE, K., Beginnings of Christianity, London, 1920. 5V.

FOWLER, W. W., Religious Experience of the Roman People, London, 1933.

Roman Festivals of the Period of the Republic, N. Y., 1899.

Social Life at Rome, N. Y., 1927.

FRANK, T., Economic History of Rome, Baltimore, 1927.

Roman Imperialism, N. Y., 1914.

Economic Survey of Ancient Rome, Baltimore, 1933f. 5V.

FRAZER, SIR J., Adonis, Attis, and Osiris, London, 1907.

The Magic Art, N. Y., 1935. 2V.

The Scapegoat, N. Y., 1935.

Spirits of the Corn and Wild, N. Y., 1935. 2V.

^* FRIEDLANDER, L., Roman Life and Manners under the Roman Empire, London, 1928.4V.

FRONTINUS, Stratagems and Aqueducts, Loeb Library.

FRONTO, M., Correspondence, Loeb Library.

GAIUS, Elements of Roman Law, ed. Poste, Oxford, 1875.

GALEN, On the Natural Faculties, Loeb Library.

GARDINER, E., Athletics of the Ancient World, Oxford, 1930.

GELLIUS, AULUS, Attic Nights, Loeb Library. 3V.

GARRISON, F., History of Medicine, Phila., 1929.

GATTESCHI, G., Restauri della Roma Imperiale, Rome, 1924.

GEST, A., Roman Engineering, N. Y., 1930.

GIBBON, E., Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, Everyman Library. 6V.

Ed. Bury, J. B., London, 1900. 7 V. Only when so specified.

GLOVER, T. R., The Conflict of Religions in the Early Roman Empire, London, 1932.

GOGUEL, M., Life of Jesus, N. Y., 1933.

GOODSPEED, E. J., The New Testament, an American Translation, Univ. of Chicago, 1937.

GRAETZ, H., History of the Jews, Phila., 1891. 6V.

GREEK ANTHOLOGY, Loeb Library.

GUHL, E., and KONER, W., Life of the Greeks and the Romans, N. Y., 1876.

GUIGNEBERT, C., Christianity Past and Present, N. Y., 1927.

Jesus, N. Y., 1935.

GUMMERE, R., Seneca the Philosopher, Boston, 1927

HADZSITS, G., Lucretius and His Influence, London, 1935.

HAGGARD, H., Devils, Drugs, and Doctors, N. Y., 1929.

HALLIDAY, W. R., The Pagan Background of Early Christianity, London, 1925.

HAMMERTON, J., Universal History of the World, London, n.d. 8V.

HARRISON, JANE, Prolegomena to the Study of Greek Religion, Cambridge U.P., 1922.

HASKELL, H., The New Deal in Old Rome, N. Y., 1939.

HASTINGS, J., Encyclopedia of Religion and Ethics, N. Y., 1928. 12V.

HATCH, E., Influence of Greek Ideas and Usages upon the Christian Church, London, 1890.

HAVERFIELD, F., The Romanization of Roman Britain, Oxford, 1923.

The Roman Occupation of Britain, Oxford, 1924.

HEATH, SIR T., History of Greek Mathematics, Oxford, 1921. 2V.

HEINE, H., Memoirs, London, 1910. 2V.

HEITLAND, W., Agricola, Cambridge U.P., 1921.

HELIODORUS, Longus, etc., Greek Romances, London, 1901.

HENDERSON, B., Life and Principate of the Emperor Hadrian, N. Y., n.d.

Life and Principate of the Emperor Nero, Phila., 1903.

HERODIAN, History of Twenty Caesars, London, 1629.

^* HERODOTUS, History, ed. Rawlinson, London, 1862. 4V.

HIMES, N., Medical History of Contraception, Baltimore, 1936.

HISTORIAE AUGUSTAE, Loeb Library, 2V.

HOLMES, T. R., The Architect of the Roman Empire, Oxford, 1928. 2V.

HOMO, L., Primitive Italy, London, 1927.

Roman Political Institutions, N. Y., 1930.

^* HORACE, Odes and Epodes, Loeb Library.

Satires and Epistles, Loeb Library.

HOWARD, C., Sex Worship, Chicago, 1909.

INGE, DEAN W. R., The Philosophy of Plotinus, London, 1929. 2V.

IRENAEUS, Adversus haereses, Oxford, 1872.

JEROME, Select Letters, Loeb Library.

JONES, A., Cities of the Eastern Roman Provinces, Oxford, 1937.

JONES, H., Companion to Roman History, Oxford, 1912.

JONES, W., Malaria and Roman History, Manchester U.P., 1909.

JOSEPHUS, Works, tr. Whiston, Boston, 1811, 2V.

JULLIAN, C., Histoire de la Gaule, Paris, 1908. 6V.

JUSTINIAN, Digest; cf. Scott, S. P.

^* JUVENAL AND PERSIUS, Satires, Loeb Library.

JUVENAL, PERSIUS, SULPICIA, AND LUCILIUS, Satires, tr. Gifford, London, 1852.

KALTHOFF, A., Rise of Christianity, London, 1907.

KAUTSKY, K., Ursprung des Christentums, Vienna, 1908.

KLAUSNER, J., From Jesus to Paul, N. Y., 1943.

Jesus of Nazareth, N. Y., 1929.

KOHLER, C., History of Costume, N. Y., 1928.

LACTANTIUS, Works, in Ante-Nicene Christian Library, vols. XXI-II, London, 1881.

LAKE, K., ed., The Apostolic Fathers, Loeb Library. 2V.

LANCIANI, R., Ancient Rome, Boston, 1899.

LANG, P., Music in Western Civilization, N. Y., 1941.

LEA, H. C, Historical Sketch of Sacerdotal Celibacy, Boston, 1884.

LECKY, W., History of European Morals, N. Y., 1926. 2V.

LESLIE SHANE, The Greek Anthology, N. Y., 1929.

LIVINGSTONE, R. W., The Legacy of Greece, Oxford, 1924.

LIVY, T., History of Rome, Everyman Library. 6V.

LONGINUS ON THE SUBLIME, Loeb Library.

LOT, FERDINAND, End of the Ancient World, N. Y., 1931.

LUCAN, Pharsalia, Loeb Library.

^* LUCIAN, Works, tr. Fowler, Oxford, 1905,4V.

^* LUCRETIUS, De rerum natura, Loeb Library.

MACGREGOR, R., The Greek Anthology, London, n.d.

MACKENNA, STEPHEN, The Essence of Plotinus, N. Y., 1934.

MACROBIUS, Works, French tr., Paris, 1827. 2V.

Opera, London, 1694.

MAHAFFY, J., The Silver Age of the Greek World, Chicago, 1906.

MAINE, SIR H., Ancient Law, Everyman Library.

MAIURI, A., Les fresques de Pompeii, Paris, n.d.

Pompeii, Rome, n.d.

MANTZIUS, K., History of Theatrical Art, N. Y., 1937. 6V.

^* MARCUS AURELIUS, Meditations, tr. Long, Boston, 1876.

MARTIAL, Epigrams, Loeb Library. 2V.

MATTHEWS, B., Development of the Drama, N. Y., 1921.

MAU, A., Pompeii, N. Y., 1902.

MERIVALE, C., History of the Romans under the Empire, London, 1865. 8V.

MIDDLETON, C., Life of Marcus Tullius Cicero, London, 1877.

MINUCIUS, FELIX, Octavius, in Tertullian, Apologeticus, Loeb Library.

MOMIGLIANO, A., Claudius, Oxford, 1934.

^* MOMMSEN, T., History of Rome, London, 1901. 5V.

The Provinces of the Roman Empire, N. Y., 1887. 2V.

MONROE, P., Source Book of the History of Education for the Greek and Roman Period, N. Y., 1932.

MONTESQUIEU, CHARLES DE, Grandeur et Décadence des Romains, Paris, 1924.

MOORE, G. F., Judaism in the First Centuries of the Christian Era, Cambridge, Mass., 1932. 2V.

MULLER-LYER, F., Evolution of Modern Marriage, N. Y., 1930.

MURRAY, G., Five Stages of Greek Religion, Oxford, 1930.

NEPOS, CORNELIUS, Lives, N. Y., 1895.

OVID, Ars amatoria, Loeb Library.

Fasti, Loeb Library.

Heroides and Amores, Loeb Library.

Love Books of, tr. May, N. Y., 1930.

Metamorphoses, Loeb Library. 2V.

Tristia and Ex Ponto, Loeb Library.

OWEN, JOHN, Evenings with the Sceptics, London, 1881. 2V.

PATER, WALTER, Marius the Epicurean, N. Y., n.d.

PAUL-LOUIS, Ancient Rome at Work, N. Y., 1927.

PFUHL, E., Masterpieces of Greek Drawing and Painting, London, 1926.

PHILO, Works, Loeb Library. 9V.

PHILOSTRATUS, Life of Apollonius of Tyana, Loeb Library. 2V.

PHILOSTRATUS AND EUNAPIUS, Lives of the Sophists, Loeb Library.

PLAUTUS, Comedies, London, 1889.

PLINY THE ELDER, Natural History, London, 1855. 6V.

^* PLINY THE YOUNGER, Letters, Loeb Library.

PLOTINUS, Select Works, London, 1912.

PLUTARCH, De Iside et Osiride, French tr., Paris, 1924.

De tranquillitate animi, tr. Harvard U.P., 1931.

Lives, Everyman Library. 3V.

Moralia, Loeb Library.

Quaestiones Romanae, tr. Holland, London, 1892.

POLYBIUS, Histories, Loeb Library. 6V.

POPE, A. U., Survey of Persian Art, London, 1938. 6V.

PORPHYRY, Life of Plotinus, in MacKenna, S., The Essence of Plotinus, N. Y, 1934.

PROPERTIUS, Poems, Loeb Library.

QUINTILIAN, Institutes of Oratory, Loeb Library. 4V.

RAMSAY, W. M., The Church in the Roman Empire, N. Y., 1893.

RANDALL-MACIVER, D., The Etruscans, Oxford, 1927.

RAWLINSON, G., The Sixth Great Oriental Monarch, N. Y., n.d.

REID, J., Municipalities of the Roman Empire, Cambridge U.P., 1913.

REINACH, S., Apollo, a History of Art, N. Y., 1917.

A Short History of Christianity, N. Y., 1922.

RENAN, E., Antichrist, London, n.d.

The Apostles, London, n.d.

The Christian Church, London, n.d.

Lectures on the Influence of Rome on Christianity, London, 1884.

Life of Jesus, N. Y., n.d.

Marc Aurèle, Paris, n.d.

St. Paul, Paris, n.d.

ROBERTSON, J. M., Short History of Freethought, London, 1914. 2V.

RODENWALDT, G., Die Kunst der Antike: Hellas und Rom, Berlin, 1927.

ROSTOVTZEFF, M., History of the Ancient World, Oxford, 1928, 2V.

Mystic Italy, N. Y., 1927.

Social and Economic History of the Hellenistic World, N. Y., 1942. 3V.

Social and Economic History of the Roman Empire, Oxford, 1926.

SACHAR, A., History of the Jews, N. Y., 1932.

SALLUST, Works, Loeb Library.

SANDYS, SIR J., Companion to Latin Studies, Cambridge U.P., 1925.

SARTON, G., Introduction to the History of Science, Baltimore, 1930. Vol. I.

SCHÜRER, E., History of the Jewish People In The Times of Jesus, N. Y., 1890. 6V.

^* SCHWEITZER, A., The Quest of the Historical Jesus, London, 1926.

SCOTT, E. F., First Age of Christianity, N. Y., 1935.

SCOTT, S. P., The Civil Law of Rome, Cincinnati, 1932. 17V.

SENECA, Epistulae Morales, Loeb Library. 2V.

Moral Essays, Loeb Library. 3V.

Quaestiones naturales, tr. in Clarke, Physical Science in the Time of Nero, London, 1910.

Tragedies, Loeb Library. 2V.

SEXTUS EMPIRICUS, Works, Loeb Library. 3V.

Opera, Leipzig, 1840. 2V.

SHOTWELL, J., Introduction to the History of History, N. Y., 1936.

SHOTWELL, J., and Loomis, L., The See of Peter, Columbia U.P., 1927.

SIDONIUS APOLLINARIS, POEMS, Loeb Library.

SIMPSON, F., History of Architectural Development, London, 1921. Vol. I.

SMITH, R. B., Carthage and the Carthaginians, N. Y., 1908.

SMITH, WM., Dictionary of Greek and Roman Antiquities, Boston, 1859.

SELLAR, W., Horace and the Elegiac Poets, Oxford, 1937.

Roman Poets of the Augustan Age: Virgil, Oxford, 1877.

Roman Poets of the Republic, Oxford, 1881.

SOCRATES, Ecclesiastical History, London, 1892.

STATIUS, Poems, Loeb Library. 2V.

STRABO, Geography, Loeb Library. 8V.

STRONG, E., Art in Ancient Rome, N. Y., 1928. 2V.

SUETONIUS, Works, Loeb Library. 2V.

* SUMNER, W. G., Folkways, Boston, 1906.

War and Other Essays, Yale U.P., 1911.

SYME, R., The Roman Revolution, Oxford, 1939.

SYMONDS, J. A., Studies of the Greek Poets, London, 1920.

^* TACITUS, Annals, Loeb Library.

^* Histories, Loeb Library.

Works, tr. Murphy, London, 1830.

TAINE, H., Essai sur Tite Live, Paris, 1874.

Modern Regime, N. Y., 1890. 2V.

TALMUD, Babylonian, tr., London, 1935f. 24V.

TARN, W. W., Hellenistic Civilization, London, 1927.

TAYLOR, H., Cicero, Chicago, 1916.

TERENCE, Comedies, London, 1898.

TERTULLIAN, Apologeticus, etc., Loeb Library.

THIERRY, A., Histoire de la Gaule sous l’administration romaine, Paris, 1840. 3V

THOMPSON, SIR E., Introduction to Greek and Latin Paleography, Oxford, 1912.

THORNDIKE, L., History of Magic and Experimental Science, N. Y., 1929. 2V.

THUCYDIDES, History of the Peloponnesian War, Everyman Library.

TIBULLUS, Poems, cf. Catullus.

TOUTAIN, J., Economic Life of the Ancient World, N. Y., 1930.

TOYNBEE, A. J., A Study of History, Oxford, 1935. 3V.

TRENCH, R., Plutarch, London, 1874.

UEBERWEG, F., History of Philosophy, N. Y., 1871. 2V.

USHER, A., History of Mechanical Inventions, N. Y., 1929.

VALERIUS MAXIMUS, Factorum et dictorum, Berlin, 1854.

VARRO, M., Rerum rusticarum, Loeb Library.

^* VIRGIL, Poems, Loeb Library. 2V.

VITRUVIUS, De architectura, Loeb Library.

VOGELSTEIN, H., Rome, Phila., 1940.

VOLTAIRE, Philosophical Dictionary, N. Y., 1901.

WARD, C. O., The Ancient Lowly, Chicago, 1907. 2V.

WATSON, P. B., Marcus Aurelius Antoninus, N. Y., 1884.

WEIGALL, A., The Paganism in Our Christianity, N. Y., 1928.

WEISE, O., Language and Character of the Roman People, London, 1909.

WESTERMARCK, E., Origin and Development of the Moral Ideas, London. 1917. 2V.

WHITE, E. L., Why Rome Fell, N. Y., 1927.

WICKHOFF, F., Roman Art, London, 1900.

WILLIAMS, H., History of Science, N. Y., 1909. 5V.

WINCKELMANN, J., History of Ancient Art, Boston, 1880. 2V.

WRIGHT, F., History of Later Greek Literature, N. Y., 1932.

ZEITLIN, S., The Jews, Phila., 1936.

The Pharisees and the Gospels, N. Y., 1938.

Notes

Capital Roman numerals, except at the beginning of a note, will usually indicate volumes, followed by page numbers; small Roman numerals will usually indicate “books” (main divisions) of a classical text, followed by chapter or verse numbers, and sometimes additionally by section or paragraph numbers.

CHAPTER I

1. Pliny, Natural History, xxxvii, 77.

2. Virgil, Georgics, ii, 149.

3. Ibid., ii, 198.

4. Strabo, Geography, v, 4. 8.

5. Polybius, History, i, 2. 15.

6. In Taine, Modern Regime, 17.

7. Aristotle, Physics, 1329b.

8. Thucydides, Peloponnesian War, vi, 18. 2.

9. Homo, Primitive Italy, 32; Toutain, Economic Life of the Ancient World, 207.

10. Dennis, Cities and Cemeteries of Etruria, 1, 36.

11. Herodotus, Histories, v, 94; Strabo, v, 1. 2; Tacitus, Annals, iv, 55; Appian, Roman History, viii, 9. 66; etc. Dionysius of Halicarnassus, i, 30, regarded the Etruscans as indigenous to Italy; so did Mommsen, History of Rome, I, 155. Dennis, I, 17, Frank, Economic History of Rome, 16, Randall-Maclver, Etruscans, 23, and Rostovtzeff, History of the Ancient World, II, 180, accept the tradition.

12. Dennis, I, 39.

13. Paul-Louis, Ancient Rome at Work, 66; Toutain, 211.

14. Dennis, I, 329.

15. Athenaeus, Deipnosophists, xii, 3.

16. Garrison, History of Medicine, 119.

17. Castiglione, History of Medicine, 192.

18. Aristotle in Athenaeus, i, 19; Dennis, I, 321.

19. Ibid., 21.

20. Cambridge Ancient History, IV, 415.

21. Frazer, Sir J., Magic Art, II, 287.

22. Scholiast on Juvenal, vi, 565.

23. Frazer, 1. c.

24. CAH, IV, 420-1; Mommsen, I, 232-3; Dennis, II, 168.

25. Enc. Brit., VIII, 787.

26. Anderson and Spiers, Architecture of Greece and Rome, 121; Strong, E., Art in Ancient Rome, 21; CAH, VII, 386.

27. Pliny, xxxv, 6.

28. Rodenwaldt, G., Die Kunst der Antike: Hellas, 509.

29. Ovid, Fasti, iii, 15.

30. Livy, History of Rome, i, 9-13.

31. Frazer, II, 289.

32. Livy, i, 19.

33. Tacitus, Annals, iii, 26.

34. Cicero, De re publica, ii, 14.

35. Livy, i, 22.

36. Ibid., 27.

37. Dio Cassius, History of Rome, fragment vii.

38. Strabo, v, 2. 2.

39. Livy, i, 35.

40. Pais, E., Ancient Legends of Roman History, 38.

41. Cicero, Republica, ii, 21.

42. Livy, i, 46.

43. Pais, 137-8.

44. Dio, iii, 7, and frag. x, 2.

45. Livy, i. 56-7.

46. Syme, R., The Roman Revolution, 85n.

47. Cicero, Republica, i, 39; Coulanges, F., The Ancient City, 384.

48. Tacitus, Histories, iii, 72.

49. Mommsen, I, 414.

50. Dennis, I, 26.

51. Duff, J. W., Literary History of Rome, 6; CAH, IV, 407.

52. Livy, i, 8; Strabo, v, 2. 2; Dennis, II, 166.

53. CAH, VII, 384.

54. Livy, i, 8.

55. CAH, VIII, 387; Hammerton, J., Universal History of the World, II, 1158.

56. Strabo, v, 2. 2.

CHAPTER II

1. Livy, i, 8.

2. Aulus Gellius, Attic Nights, vi, 13.

3. Livy, ii, 56; CAH, VII, 456.

4. Aulus Gellius, xx, 1. 45-51; Dio, frag. xvi, 4.

5. Livy, ii, 23-30; Dio, iv, 7 and frag, xvi, 6; Dionysius, vi, 45; Plutarch, “Coriolanus.”

6. Livy, iv, 13; Dio, vi, 7.

7. Livy, iii, 52.

8. Dio, v, 7.

9. Ibid.

10. Livy, i, 43.

11. Frank, Economic History, 20; Smith, W., Dictionary of Greek and Roman Antiquities, s. v. exercitus.

12. Mommsen, III, 60.

13. Plutarch, “Pyrrhus.”

14. Coulanges, 244.

15. Dio, iv, 7.

16. Twelve Tables, iv, 1-3, in Monroe, P., Source Book, 337.

17. Twelve Tables, iii, 1-6.

18. Ibid., viii, 3.

19. Ibid., 21-26.

20. Cicero, Pro Roscio Amerino, 25-6.

21. Polybius, iii, 6.

22. Livy, vii, 24.

23. Vitruvius, De Architectura, ii, 12.

24. Polybius, vi, 37.

25. Frontinus, Stratagems and Aqueducts, iv, 1.

26. Frank, Economic History, 338; Id., Economic Survey of Ancient Rome, V, 160; Fowler, W. W., Social Life at Rome, 32; Edwards, H. J., Appendix A to Caesar, Gallic War.

27. Dio, vi, 95.

28. Livy, ii, 34; Dionysius, vii, 50; Dio, v, 7 and frag. xvii, 2; Appian, Roman History, ii, 5; Plutarch, “Coriolanus.”

29. Polybius, ii, 15-20.

30. Livy, v, 42.

31. Dio, vii, 7.

32. Coulanges, 494.

33. Plutarch, “Sayings of Great Commanders,” in Moralia, 184C.

CHAPTER III

1. Mommsen, II, 138.

2. Smith, R. B., Carthage, 29.

3. Appian, viii, 95.

4. Polybius, vi, 56.

5. Plutarch, De re publica ger., iii, 6.

6. Frazer, Adonis, Attis, Osiris, I, 114.

7. Diodorus Siculus, Library of History, xx, 14.

8. St. Augustine, Letters, xvii, 2.

9. Appian, viii, 127.

10. Aristotle, Politics, 1272b.

11. Ibid., 1273a.

12. Polybius, iii, 22.

13. Strabo, xvii, 1. 19.

14. Polybius, i, 20-1.

15. Cicero, De Officiis, iii, 26; In Pisonem, 43.

16. Gellius, vii, 4.

17. Polybius, i. 80.

18. Smith, R. B., Carthage, 151.

19. Polybius, i, 87. Flaubert has told the story with perfect art in Salammbo.

20. Mommsen, ii, 223.

21. Dio, frag. Iii, 2.

22. Livy, xxi, 4.

23. Mommsen, II, 243.

24. Livy, xxi, 22.

25. Plutarch, Moralia, 195D.

26. Livy, xxii, 57.

27. Polybius, ii, 75, 118.

28. Livy, xxii, 50.

29. Livy, xxviii, 12.

30. Diodorus, xxvii, 9; Appian, vii, 59.

31. Ibid., viii, 134.

32. Livy, xxxix, 51.

CHAPTER IV

1. Twelve Tables, iv, 1.

2. St. Augustine, City of God, vi, 9.

3. Horace, Satires, i, 8, 35; Müller-Lyer, F., Evolution of Modern Marriage, 55; Castiglione, 195; Howard, C., Sex Worship, 65, 79; Enc. Brit., 11th ed., XVII, 467; XXI, 345.

4. Pliny, xxviii, 19.

5. Livy, xxiii, 31.

6. Virgil, Georgics, ii, 419; Horace, Odes, i, 1.25.

7. Frazer, Magic Art, II, 190; the derivation is questioned by Fowler, W. W., Roman Festivals of the Republic, 99.

8. Virgil, Aeneid, vii, 761; Ovid, Fasti, vi, 753; Metamorphoses, xv, 497; Strabo, v, 3.12; Pliny, xxx, 12-13; Frazer, Magic Art, I, 11.

9. Boissier, G., La réligion romaine, I, 27.

10. Livy, v, 21-2; vi, 29; Coulanges, 199.

11. Ovid, Metam., xv, 626.

12. Livy, viii, 15; Lanciani, R., Ancient Rome, 143.

13. Fowler, W. W., Religious Experience of the Roman People, 337.

14. Mommsen, III, 11.

15. Cicero, Pro Archia, 4; Fowler, op. cit., 30. The derivation is not certain; Cicero gives another in De natura deorum, ii, 28.

16. Reinach, S., Apollo, 109.

17. Livy, vii, 5.

18. Pliny, xxviii, 10.

19. Harrison, J., Prolegomena to the Study of Greek Religion, 35.

20. Plautus, Curculio, 33-8.

21. Ovid, Fasti, iii, 523.

23. Howard, 66.

24. Athenaeus, xiv, 44.

25. Westermarck, E., Origin and Development of the Moral Ideas, I, 430; Cicero, Pro Caelio, 20.

26. Brittain, A., Roman Women, 135-6.

27. Coulanges, 63.

28. Plutarch, “Numa and Lycurgus.”

29. Gellius, x, 23.

30. Abbott, F., Common People of Ancient Rome, 87.

31. Catullus, Poems, xxv.

32. Pliny, xxxiii, 16.

33. Fowler, W. W., Social Life at Rome, 50-1, 270.

34. Polybius, xxxi, 26.

35. Ibid., vi, 56.

36. Cf. Appian, vi, passim.

37. Polybius, vi, 58.

38. Plutarch, Quaestiones Romanae, 59.

39. Livy, iii, 38.

40. Heine, H., Memoirs, I, 12.

41. Thompson, Sir E., Greek and Latin Paleography, 5.

42. Schlegel, A. W., Lectures on Dramatic Art and Literature, 202.

43. Livy, vii, 2; Bieber, N., History of the Greek and Roman Theater, 307.

44. In Duff, J., Literary History of Rome, 130.

45. Castiglione, 196.

46. Lanciani, R., Ancient Rome, 53.

47. Glover, T. R., Conflict of Religions in the Early Roman Empire, 13; Fried-lander, L., Roman Life and Manners under the Early Empire, III, 141.

48. Twelve Tables, x, 9.

49. Pliny, xxix, 6.

50. Frank, Economic Survey, I, 12; CAH, VII, 417; for the contrary cf. Mommsen, History, I, 193, 238.

51. Pliny, xviii, 3.

52. Virgil, Georgics, i, 299.

53. Guhl, E., and Koner, W., Life of the Greeks and Romans, 503.

54. Cato, de agri cultura, viii; Varro, Rerum rusticarum libri tres, pref.

55. Cicero, Letters, vii, 1.

56. Pliny, xxxiii, 13.

57. CAH, VIII, 345.

58. Mommsen, History, III, 75.

59. CAH, X, 395; Frank, Economic History of Rome, 340. For other comparative prices cf. ibid., 66.

60. Twelve Tables, viii, 18; Tacitus, Annals, vi, 16.

61. Livy, vii, 19-21, 42.

62. Paul-Louis, 118.

63. Frank, Economic History, 119; for a contrary view cf. Ward, C. O., The Ancient Lowly, 208-9.

64. Livy, viii, 12; Dionysius of Halicarnassus, ix, 43.

65. Mommsen, History, I, 248-9; Paul-Louis, 47.

66. 77% between 200 and 150 B.C.—Frank, Economic Survey, I, 146.

67. Ibid., 41; CAH, VIII, 344; Paul-Louis, 102; Mommsen, History, II, 55.

68. Pliny, xxxvi, 24.

69. Enc. Brit., XIX, 466.

70. Rickard, T., Man and Metals, I, 280.

71. Twelve Tables, x, 4.

72. E.g. in Plautus’ Captives, 998.

73. Lucian, Dialogues of the Dead, xxv.

CHAPTER V

1. Livy, iv, 302.

2. Plutarch, “Flamininus.”

3. Livy, xliv, 22.

4. Appian, vi, 9-10; Mommsen, History, III, 220.

5. Livy, xxxix, 7; Mommsen, 201.

6. Polybius, vi, 17.

7. Davis, W. S., Influence of Wealth in Imperial Rome, 74, 77; Mommsen, III, 83.

8. Polybius, xxxi, 25; Mommsen, III, 127; Sellar, W. Y., Roman Poets of the Republic, 234.

9. Mommsen, III, 40.

10. Polybius, xxxi, 25.

11. Guhl, 490.

12. Plutarch, “Cato the Elder.”

13. Livy, xxxiv, 1.

14. Brittain, 95.

15. Polybius, xxx, 14.

16. Mommsen, III, 21, 127.

17. Ibid., 44, 294, 301-2.

18. CAH, VIII, 359.

19. Plutarch, “Marcellus.”

20. Anderson, 137.

21. Cicero, De divinatione, ii, 24.52.

22. Polybius, vi, 56.

23. Livy, xxxix, 8.

24. Cicero, De re publica, ii, 19.

24a. Horace, Epistles, ii, 1.156.

25. Cicero, De senectute, viii, 26.

26. Cf. Bk. II of the Republic.

27. Appian, vi, 9.53.

28. Ennius, Telamo, frag, in Duff, 141.

29. Cicero, De div., ii, 50.

30. Ennius, frag, in Gellius, xii, 4.

31. Ennius in Cicero, Disp. Tuse., ii, 1.1.

32. Collins, W. L., Plautus and Terence, 33-4; Matthews, B., Development of the Drama, 98.

33. Cicero, De re publica, iv, 10.

34. Collins, 45.

35. Plautus, Amphitryon, iii, 2, 4.

36. Batiffol, L., Century of the Renaissance, 164.

37. Suetonius, On Poets, “Terence,” ii.

38. Terence, Heauton Timoroumenos, prologue.

39. Terence, Adelphi, prologue.

40. Suetonius, 1. c.

41. Plutarch, Moralia, 198E, 199C.

42. Pliny, vii, 28.

43. Livy, xxxix, 42; Plutarch, “Cato the Elder.”

44. Fowler, Social Life, 191.

45. Pliny, viii, 11.

46. Plutarch, 1. c.

47. Ibid., Pliny, xxix, 7.

48. Appian, viii, 14.

49. Strabo, xvii, 3.15.

CHAPTER VI

1. Mommsen, History, III, 306.

2. Livy, xli, 28; xlv, 34.

3. Ibid., xxxix, 29.

4. Heitland, W., Agricola, 161; Ward, I, 121.

5. Dio Cassius, xxxiv, frag. ii, 23; Livy, Epitome of Book xc.

6. Plutarch, “Tiberius Gracchus.”

7. Ibid.

8. Appian, Civil Wars, i, 1.

9. Pliny, xxxiii, 14.

10. Appian, Civil Wars, i, 3.

11. Julius Philippus in Cicero, De off., ii, 21.

12. Appian, Civil Wars, i, 4.

13. Plutarch, “Marius.”

14. Sallust, Jugurthine War, xiii, xx-xxviii.

15. Plutarch, 1. c.

16. Ibid.

17. Plutarch, “Sylla.”

18. Sallust, xcv.

19. Ibid., xcvi.

20. Mommsen, IV, 142.

21. Appian, Civil Wars, i, 8.

22. Plutarch, 1. c.

23. Ibid.

24. Ibid.

CHAPTER VII

1. Plutarch, “Caesar.”

2. Davis, 13-14.

3. Cicero, Ad Atticum, iv, 15.

4. Plutarch, “Pompey.”

5. Cicero, Ad Quintum, ii, 5.

6. Cicero, Letters, iii, 29.

7. Cicero, Ad Quintum, iii, 2.

8. Mommsen, V, 349.

9. Plutarch, “Cicero.”

10. Cicero, I In Verrem, 13.

11. Frank, Economic History, 295.

12. Mommsen, IV, 173.

13. Frank, 289.

14. Cicero, De off., i, 8.

15. Plutarch, 1. c. of History, 238.

16. Nepos, “Atticus.”

17. Plutarch, “Lucullus.”

18. Frank, Economic Survey, I, 354.

19. Macrobius, Saturnalia, iii, 13.

20. Varro, iii, 16; Cicero, Letters, ix, 18; Mommsen, V, 387.

22. Cicero, Letters, vii, 26.

23. Pliny, xxxvi, 24.

24. L. c.

25. Historiae Augustae, “Alex. Severus,” 33; Livy, xxxix, 8f; Mommsen, V, 384; Ward, I, 406.

26. In Boissier, G., Cicero and His Friends, 164.

27. Cicero, Pro Caelio.

28. Plutarch, “Cato the Younger.”

29. Cicero, Ad Atticum, ii, 1; Plutarch, 1. c, and “Phocien.”

30. Appian, Roman History, vi, 16.

31. Plutarch, “Crassus.”

32. Ibid.

33. Plutarch, “Sertorius.”

34. Plutarch, “Pompey.”

35. Cicero, De lege Manilia, vii, 18-19.

36. Cicero, Pro Caelio, 16.

37. Cicero, Pro Sexto Roscio.

38. Sallust, The War of Catiline, xv.

39. Ibid.; Plutarch, “Cicero.”

40. Haskell, H., The New Deal in Old Rome, 125.

41. Sallust, Catiline, xx, 7-13.

42. Cicero, III In Catilinam, vii.

43. Haskell, 167.

44. Sallust, xxxiii, 1.

45. Cicero, op. cit., viii.

46. Ibid., i.

47. Cicero, In Pisonem, vi-vii.

CHAPTER VIII

1. Lucretius, De rerum natura, iii, 1053f; tr. W. D. Rouse.

2. Ibid., iv, 1045-71.

3. Mommsen, IV, 207.

4. Fowler, Religious Experience of the Roman People, 391.

5. Lucretius, i, 1-40.

6. Ibid., i, 101.

7. V, 1202.

8. I, 73.

9. II, 646.

10. II, 1090.

11. VI, 35.

12. I, 430.

13. II, 312.

14. IV, 834.

15. V, 419.

16. V, 837.

17. II, 8.

18. V, 1116.

19. II, 29.

20. IV, 1052.

21. V, 925f.

22. II, 79.

23. II, 1148.

24. II, 576.

25. Shotwell, Introduction, 221.

25a. Appian, ii, 2.

26. Lucretius, v, 564.

27. VI, 1093.

28. In Eusebius, Chronicles in Hadzsits, G., Lucretius and His Influence, 5.

29. Sellar, Poets of the Republic, 277.

30. Voltaire, Lettres de Memmius à Ciceron, in Hadzsits, 327.

31. Apuleius, Apology, in Sellar, 411.

32. Catullus, Poems, li.

33. Id., ii.

34. V.

35. XI

36. LXXXV.

37. LXX.

38. CI.

39. XXXI.

40. XXXVIII.

41. XCVIII.

42. Varro, pref.

43. Ibid., ii, 10.

44. St. Augustine, City of God, iv, 27.

45. Ibid., vii, 5.

46. Sallust, Jug. War, lxxxv.

46a. Gellius, xvii, 18.1.

46b. Pliny, xiv, 17.

47. In Weise, O., Language and Character of the Roman People, 86.

48. Nepos, “Atticus,” xvi.

49. Cf. the letter to Trebatius, in Cicero, vii, 10.

50. Cf. the letter to Lentulus in Cicero, i, 7 with the speech Pro Balbo, 27.

51. Ad Atticum, vii, 1.

52. Letters, xv, 4, to Cato.

53. Boissier, Cicero, 84; Frank, Economic Survey, I, 395.

54. Ad Atticum, i, 18.

55. Ibid., i, 7.

56. Pro Archia, vii.

57. De div., i, 2.1; ii, 2.4-5.

58. De off., ii, 17.

59. De natura deorum, i, 2, 8.

60. De div., ii, 12.28.

61. Academica, ii, 41.

62. De natura deorum, i, 5.

63. De div., ii, 47.97.

63a. De natura deorum, iii, 16.

64. Ibid., ii, 37.

65. Ibid., i, I; De legibus, ii, 7; De off., ii, 72.148.

66. De legibus, i, 7.

67. De re publica, i, 2.

68. Ibid., i, 44.

69. III, 22.

70. De legibus, i, 15.

71. De amicitia, xii, 40.

72. De senectute, xi, 38.

73. Disp. Tusc., i.

74. De legibus, i, 2.

CHAPTER IX

1. Suetonius, Supplement, i, 3.

2. Suetonius, “Julius,” 49.

3. Ibid., 4; Plutarch, “Caesar.”

4. Suetonius, “Julius,” 52.

5. Plutarch, “Cato the Younger.”

6. Quintilian, Institutes, x, 1.114.

7. Sallust, Cataline, ii.

8. Appian, Civil Wars, ii, 2.

9. Ferrero, G., Greatness and Decline of Rome, I, 261.

10. Boissier, Tacitus, 215f.

12. Mommsen, V, 132.

13. Caesar, Gallic War, i, 44.

14. Mommsen, V, 34.

15. Ibid., 38.

16. Cicero, 1. c., 81.

17. Mommsen, V, 100.

18. Plutarch, “Pompey,” “Crassus,” “Cato the Younger.”

19. Homo, L., Roman Political Institutions, 184; Mommsen, V, 166.

20. Ibid., 385.

21. Appian, Civil Wars, ii, 3.

22. Cicero, Pro Sextio, 35; Mommsen, V, 108f, 370; Ferrero, I, 313; Boissier, Cicero, 213; Fowler, Social Life, 58.

23. Dio Cassius, xl, 57.

24. Plato, Republic, 562f.

25. Suetonius, “Julius,” 77.

26. Appian, Civil Wars, ii, 5; Ferrero, II, 187.

27. Suetonius, “Julius,” 32; Appian, l.c.

28. Syme, 89.

29. Cicero ad Atticum, vin, 16.

30. Ferrero, II, 212.

31. Cicero, Letters, xvi, 12, to Tiro, 49 B.C.

32. Cf., e.g., De bello civile, i, 43-52.

33. Ibid., i, 53; Appian, ii, 15.

34. Caesar, Bello civile, iii, 1.

35. Plutarch, “Caesar”; Appian, ii, 8.

36. Caesar, iii, 10.

37. Ibid., iii, 53.

38. Cicero, Letters, vii, 3 to Marcus Marius, 46 B.C.; ad Atticum, xi, 6.

39. Appian, ii, 10.

40. Plutarch, “Pompey.”

41. Plutarch, “Marcus Brutus.”

42. Caesar, iii, 88.

43. Plutarch, “Pompey.”

44. Appian, ii, 13.

45. Mahaffy, J., Silver Age of the Greek World, 199.

46. CAH, X, 37; Buchan, Augustus, 117.

47. Suetonius, “Julius,” 52.

48. Ibid.

49. Plutarch, “Caesar.”

50. Dio Cassius, xlii, 49.

51. Appian, ii, 13.

52. Suetonius, “Julius,” 80.

53. Pliny, xxviii, 2.

55. Frank, Economic History, 351.

56. Plutarch, “Caesar.”

57. Cicero Pro Marcello, 6-10.

58. Cf. ad Familiares, viii, 14, 22-5; ix, 11.

59. In Cicero, ad Atticum, xiv, 1.

60. Dio Cassius, ii, 44.

61. Plutarch, “Brutus.”

62. Appian, ii, 16.

63. Plutarch, I.c.

64. From a doubtful letter of Brutus in Boissier, Cicero and His Friends, 334.

65. Cicero, ad Atticum, v, 21; vi, 1-9.

66. Appian, ii, 16.

67. Suetonius, “Julius,” 79.

68. Ibid., 81-87; Plutarch, “Caesar”; Appian, ii, 16-21.

69. Suetonius, 82.

70. Appian, l.c.

CHAPTER X

1. Ferrero, II, 226.

2. Boissier, Cicero, 192.

3. Appian, Civil Wars, ii, 2; Dio, xlv, 2.

4. Appian, iv, 11.

5. Ibid., 2-6; Plutarch, “Antony.”

6. Brutus to Cicero, ad Familiares, xi, 20.

7. Plutarch, “Cicero.”

8. Appian, iv, 4; Plutarch, “Antony.”

9. Philo, Quod omnis probus, 118-20; Appian, iv, 8-10.

10. Plutarch, “Antony”; Appian, v, 1.

11. Ibid.; Athenaeus, iv, 29.

13. CAH, X, 79.

14. Suetonius, 17. Rostovtzeff, Social and Economic History of the Roman Empire, 29, thinks the will a forgery; CAH, X, 97, accepts it as genuine.

15. Dio, li, 35.

16. Ibid., 6.

17. Ibid.

18. Ibid., Suetonius, 17.

CHAPTER XI

1. Suetonius, “Augustus,” 33.

2. Dio, liv, 17.

3. Ibid., Iv, 4.

4. Suetonius, 40.

5. Gibbon, E., Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, ed. Bury, I, 65.

6. Suetonius, 23; Dio, lvi, 17.

7. Plutarch, Moralia, 207D.

8. Charlesworth, M., Trade Routes and Commerce of the Roman Empire, 8.

9. Suetonius, 41.

9a. Dio, liv, 18.

9b. Suetonius, 28.

10. Ibid., 42.

12. Augustus, Res gestae, iii, 21.

13. Dio, lv, 25.

14. Suetonius, 58.

16. Pliny, xiv, 5.

18. Cf. Himes, N., Medical History of Contraception, 85f and 188.

19. Dio, liv, 19.

20. Tacitus, Annals, xv, 19.

21. Ibid., iii, 25.

22. Horace, Odes, iii, 24.

23. Davis, Influence of Wealth, 304.

24. Gellius, x, 2.2.

25. Ibid.

26. Dio, lvi, 1.

27. Ovid, Ars Amatoria, 637.

28. Augustus, Res gestae, ii, 10.

29. Buchan, 286.

30. Suetonius, 76-83.

31. Ibid., 81; Dio, Iii, 30.

32. Suetonius, 76.

33. Ibid., 84.

34. Ibid., 90-2.

35. Ferrero, IV, 175.

36. Plutarch, Moralia, 207C.

37. Suetonius, 53.

38. Dio, lvii, 2.

39. Suetonius, 64.

40. Macrobius, Saturnalia, ii, 5, ad finem: “I never take on a passenger unless the vessel is already full.”

41. Seneca, Moral Essays, III, vi, 32.1.

42. Suetonius, 99.

CHAPTER XII

1. Macrobius, ii, 4.

2. Horace, Epistles, ii, 1.117.

3. Juvenal, Satires, i, 2; iii, 9.

4. Martial, Epigrams, i, 67, 118; Fried-lander, III, 37.

4a. Lanciani, Ancient Rome, 183.

5. Ovid., Tristia, i, 1.105.

6. Tacitus De oratorisbus, 13.

8. Virgil, Eclogues, i, 46.

9. Ibid., i, ix.

10. Suetonius, On Poets, “Virgil,” 9.

11. Virgil, Georgics, iii, 284.

12. Ibid., i, 145.

13. II, 490.

14. In Duff, Literary History of Rome, 455.

15. Georgics, iii, 46.

16. Aeneid, vi, 86of; Suetonius, “Virgil,” 31.

17. Aeneid, ii, 293.

18. Ibid., iv, 331-61.

19. VI, 126.

20. VI, 852.

21. IV, 508.

22. Suetonius, 23.

23. Ibid., 43.

24. Voltaire, Philosophical Dictionary, art. Epic Poetry.

25. Suetonius, On Poets, “Horace.”

26. Horace, Odes, iii, 2.

27. Epodes, ii, 2.41.

28. Satires, i, 1.

28a. Epistles, i, 16; Rostovtzeff, Social and Economic of the Roman Empire, 61.

29. Horace, Satires, ii, 5.

30. Ibid., ii, 7.105.

31. Ibid., 23.

32. I, 1.69.

33. Odes, ii, 10.

34. Satires, i, l.105.

35. Ibid., ii, I.1.

36. Odes, iii, 29.12.

37. Satires, ii, 6.60.

39. Odes, iii, 16.29.

40. Epodes, ii, 1.

41. Petronius, Satyricon, 118.

42. Odes, ii, 11.

43. I, 9.

44. I, 28.

45. I, 35.

46. III, 30.

47. Ars poetica, 139.

48. Ibid., 343.

49. Ibid., 102.

50. Epistles, i, 6.1.

51. Odes, ii, 3.

52. Ibid., ii, 10.

53. Satires, ii, 7.83.

54. Odes, iii, 3.

55. Epistles, i, 4.16; cf. i, 17.

56. Satires, ii, 6.93.

57. Epistles, ii, 2.55.

58. Odes, ii, 14.

59. Satires, i, 1.117.

60. Epistles, ii, 2.214.

61. Odes, ii, 17.

63. Taine, H., Essai sur Tite Live, 1.

64. Pliny, Natural History, dedication.

65. Taine, l.c., 10.

66. E.g., Livy, ii, 48.

67. E.g., cf. Livy, xlv, 12 with Polybius, xxix, 27; or Livy, xxiv, 34 with Polybius, viii, 5.

68. Pliny, Letters, ii, 3.

69. Tibullus, i, 1.

70. Ibid., i, 6.

71. I, 3, 10.

72. Propertius, ii, 34, 57.

73. Ibid., ii, 6.

74. I, 8.

75. Ovid, Tristia, iv, 10.

76. Ovid, Ars amatoria, 157.

77. Ibid., 99.

78. Ibid., 171.

79. Amores, ii, 4.

80. Ibid., i, I; ii, 18.

81. II, 1.

82. I, 4.

83. II, 5.

84. II, 10.

85. III, 7; ii, 10.

86. Ars amatoria, 97.

90. Remedia amoris, 183.

91. Ibid., 194.

92. Heroides, iv.

93. Tristia, ii, 103.

94. Ex Ponto, iv, 6.41.

95. Tristia, i, 1; iii, 8.

96. Ibid., iii, 3.15; Ex Ponto, i, 4.47.

CHAPTER XIII

1. In Holmes, Architect of the Roman Empire, 108.

2. Suetonius, “Tiberius,” 68.

3. Ibid., 69.

4. Tacitus, Annals, i, 11.

5. Suetonius, 23.

6. Dio, lvii, 18.

7. Ibid., 6; Suetonius, 30; Tacitus, Annals, iv, 6.

8. Suetonius, 27.

9. Tacitus, I.c.

10. Suetonius, 32.

11. Ferrero, G., Women of the Caesars, 136.

12. Tacitus, ii, 50.

13. Ibid., iv, 57.

14. Dio, lvii, 11.

15. Ferrero, Women, 140.

16. Tacitus, iv, 57; Suetonius, 42-4.

17. CAH, X, 638.

18. Tacitus, iv, 58.

19. Suetonius, 60.

20. Tacitus, iv, 70.

21. Ibid., vi, 50.

22. Mommsen, T., Provinces of the Roman Empire, II, 187.

23. Josephus, Antiquities, xix, 1.15.

24. Suetonius, “Gaius,” 50-1.

25. Ibid.

26. Dio, lix, 5.

27. Suetonius, “Gaius,” 29, 32.

28. Dio, lix, 26.

29. Suetonius, 24.

30. Ibid.

31. Seneca Ad Helviam, x, 4.

32. Suetonius, 40.

33. Ibid., 38.

34. Ibid., 30.

35. Dio, lix, 3.

36. Suetonius, 27.

37. For a defense of Caligula cf. Balsdon, The Emperor Gaius, 33 etc.

39. Dio, lix, 28.

40. Balsdon, 161.

41. Ibid., 168.

42. Dio, lix, 29.

43. Suetonius, “Claudius,” 29.

44. Dio, lx, 10.

45. Suetonius, 21.

46. Seneca, Apocolocyntosis, 3.

47. Tacitus, xii, 53.

48. Suetonius, 28.

49. Brittain, 244.

50. Suetonius, 37; Dio, lx, 14.

51. Suetonius, 50.

52. Dio, lx, 18.

53. Tacitus, xi, 12.

54. Ibid., 25.

55. Dio, lxi, 31.

56. Ferrero, Women, 226.

57. Buchan, 247.

58. Tacitus, xi, 25.

59. Pliny, Nat. Hist., ix, 117.

60. Tacitus, xiii, 43.

61. Dio, lxi, 34.

62. Ibid., 2.

63. Suetonius, “Nero,” 52.

64. Dio, lxi, 3.

65. Tacitus, xiii, 4.

66. Henderson, B., Life and Principate of the Emperor Nero, 75.

67. Tacitus, xv, 48.

68. Suetonius, 56.

69. Ibid., 27.

70. Tacitus, xvi, 18.

71. Dio, lxii, 15; lxi, 7; Suetonius, 26.

72. Dio, lxii, 14; Tacitus, xiv, 5, adds that some writers question the story.

73. Tacitus, xiv, 10.

74. Ibid., xiii, 3.

75. Suetonius, 20.

76. Ibid., 41; Dio, lxiii, 26.

77. Suetonius, 52.

78. Ibid., 11.

79. Tacitus, xiv, 60.

80. CAH, X, 722.

81. Tacitus, xv, 44.

82. Ibid., xvi, 6; Suetonius, 25.

83. Dio, lxii, 27; Suetonius, 27.

84. Tacitus, xvi, 18.

85. Suetonius, 22.

86. Ibid.

87. Dio, lxiii, 23.

88. Suetonius, 43.

89. Ibid., 57.

90. Suetonius, “Galba,” 23.

91. Tacitus, Histories, i, 49.

92. Suetonius, “Otho,” 5.

93. Tacitus, Hist., iii, 67.

94. Suetonius, “Vitellius,” 17.

95. Suetonius, “Vespasian,” 13.

96. Ibid., 16.

97. Dio, lxv, 14.

98. Suetonius, 18.

99. Ibid., 21.

100. Tacitus, Hist., ii, 2.

101. Suetonius, 23-4.

102. Suetonius, “Titus,” 8.

103. Suetonius, “Domitian,” 18.

104. Dio, lxvi, 26.

105. Suetonius, 22; Dio, lxvii, 6.

106. Frank, Economic Survey, V, 56.

107. Dio, lxvii, 14.

108. Suetonius, 10.

CHAPTER XIV

1. Lucan, Pharsalia, ii, 67.

2. Ibid., i, 128.

3. Petronius, Epigrams, frag. 22 in Robertson, J. M., Short History of Freethought, I, 211.

4. Petronius, Satyricon, 11.

5. Ibid., 48.

6. 71.

7. 35, 40, 47.

8. 74.

9. Seneca in Boissier, G., La réligion romaine, II, 204.

10. Tacitus, Annals, xiv, 59; xvi, 34.

11. Lucian, Icaromenippus, 4.

12. Seneca, Epistulae Morales, xii; Moral Essays, III, vii, 11.1.

13. Monroe, Source Book, 401.

14. Quintilian, Institutes, x, 1.125.

15. Dio, lxii, 2.

16. Friedländer, III, 238.

17. Tacitus, Annals, xiii, 42.

18. Seneca, De vita beata, xvii-xviii.

19. Davis, Influence of Wealth, 154.

20. Seneca, Epist. xv.

21. De vita beata, xviii.

22. De clementia, i, 3.

24. Epist., vii.

25. Tacitus, Annals, xiii, 2.

27. Boissier, Tacitus, 11.

28. Seneca, Epist., lxxvi.

30. Seneca, Epist., lxxv.

31. Ibid., vii.

32. XXVI.

33. De providentia, ii, 6.

34. Epist., xli.

36. De providentia, v, 8.

37. Epist., xxxi.

38. Ibid., cii; ad Marciam, xxiv, 3.

39. In Henderson, Nero, 309.

40. Epist., lxxii and iii.

41. Ibid., lxxii.

44. XXXIII.

45. De brevitate vitae, xiv.

46. Epist., lxix.

47. Ibid., ii.

48. VII; XXV.

49. XXIII.

50. LXX.

51. De ira, v, 15.

52. Epist., lviii.

53. Ibid., lxi.

54. De ira, ii, 34.

55. Epist., i, lxi.

56. Tertullian, De anima, xx.

57. In Acton, Lord, History of Freedom, 25.

58. Epist., xxxi.

59. Gummere, R. M., Seneca the Philosopher, 131.

60. Seneca, Medea, 364.

61. Quaestiones naturales, vii, 30-33.

62. Ibid., vii, 25, 30.

63. Pliny, xxxvi, 15.

64. Ibid., ii, 5.

65. Plutarch, “Sertorius.”

66. Pliny’s Letters, iii, 5.

67. Pliny, Nat. Hist., iii, 6.

68. Ibid., ii, 5.

69. II, 30.

70. II, 33.

71. II, 6, 64.

72. II, 90-92.

73. II, 63.

74. XXXIV, 39.

75. XXXVII, 27.

76. XIX, 4.

77. XVIII, 76.

78. XXV, 110.

79. XXXVIII, 52.

80. XXVIII, 80.

81. VII, 5.

82. XXVIII, 16.

83. VII, 3.

84. XXV, 13.

85. Castiglione, 214.

86. Pliny, ii, 5, 117.

87. XXXIII, 13.

88. II, 5.

89. VII, 56.

90. XXVIII, 7.

91. VIII, 67.

92. VII, 13.

93. XVIII, 78f.

94. ll, 57.

95. Jones, W. H. S., Malaria and Greek History, 61.

96. Pliny’s Letters, i, 12.

97. Castiglione, 237.

98. Tacitus, Hist., iv, 81; Suetonius, “Vespasian,” 7.

99. Dill, Sir S., Roman Society from Nero to Marcus Aurelius, 92.

100. Pliny, Nat. Hist., xxix, 8.

101. Lucian, “To an Illiterate Book-Fancier,” 29.

102. Pliny, xxvi, 7-8; Castiglione, 200; Garrison, History of Medicine, 106.

103. Castiglione, 233, 240.

104. Ibid., 226.

105. Soranus in Friedländer, I, 171.

106. Castiglione, 237; Garrison, 118.

107. Bailey, C, Legacy of Rome, 291; Williams, H. S., History of Science, I, 274.

108. Pliny, xxix, 5.

109. Ibid., 8.

110. Garrison, 119.

111. Pliny, xxxv, 94.

112. Ibid., xxix, 5.

113. Friedländer, I, 180-1.

114. Castiglione, 234; Friedländer, I, 178; Duff, J., Literary History of Rome in the Silver Age, 121; Pliny, xxviii, 2.

115. Frank, Economic Survey, I, 381.

116. Bailey, 284.

117. Quintilian, vi, pref.

118. I, 12.17.

119. I, 10.36.

120. X, 3.9,19.

121. X, 4.1.

122. II, 12.7.

123. II, 5.21.

124. Juvenal, vii, 82.

126. Martial, xi, 43, 104.

127. II, 53.

128. IV, 49.

129. I, 16,

130. X, 4.

131. IV, 4.

132. IX, 37.

133. I, 32; III, 65.

134. I, 32.

135. E.g., ix, 27.

136. XI, 16.

137. III, 69.

138. Pliny’s Letters, iii, 21.

CHAPTER XV

1. Columella, De re rustica, i, 3.12.

2. In Davis, Influence of Wealth, 144.

3. Pliny, Nat. Hist., xviii, 4; Heitland, 224; Frank, Economic Survey, V, 175.

4. Columella, iii, 3.

5. Strabo, v, 4.3.

6. Frank, V, 158.

7. Pliny, xv, 68-83.

8. Columella, iii, 8.

9. Rostovtzeff, Roman Empire, 182-3.

10. Suetonius, “Domitian,” 7.

11. Cato, De agri cultura, 144.

12. Pliny, xix, 2.

13. Paul-Louis, 274-6.

14. Tacitus, Agricola, 12.

15. Pliny, ii, 108-9.

15a. Ammianus Marcellinus, xxiii, 4.15.

16. Encyclopaedia Britannica, V, 868.

17. Paul-Louis, 287.

18. Frank, V, 229.

19. Rostovtzeff, Roman Empire, 252.

20. Haskell, H. J., New Deal in Old Rome, 24-6.

21. Scott, S. P., Civil Law, Fragments of Ulpian in Justinian, Digest, iii, 2.4.

22. Friedländer, I, 289-91.

23. Gibbon, Everyman Lib. ed., I, 50; Bailey, C, Legacy of Rome, 158.

24. Seneca Ad Helviam, vi.

25. Plutarch, Moralia, “On Exile,” 604A.

26. Halliday, W. R., Pagan Background of Early Christianity, 88.

27. Juvenal, xiv, 287.

29. Athenaeus, ii, 239.

30. Josephus, Life, p. 511.

31. Mommsen, Provinces, II, 278.

32. Friedländer, I, 286.

33. Pliny, xix, 1, 4.

34. Ibid., ii, 57.

35. Cf. the crane pictured on the tomb of the Haterii in the Lateran Museum, Rome, in Wickhoff, E., Roman Art, p. 50; cf. also Gest, 60, and Bailey, 462.

36. Reid, Municipalities, 28.

37. Gest, 110-131.

38. Pliny, xxxvi, 24.

39. Bailey, 290.

40. Frontinus, Stratagems, iii, 1.

41. Frontinus, Aqueducts, ii, 75.

42. Ibid., i, 16.

43. In Friedländer, I, 13.

44. Carter, T. F., Invention of Printing, 86; Gibbon, Everyman ed., I, 55.

45. Tarn, W. W., Hellenistic Civilization, 206.

46. CAH, X, 417.

47. Strabo, xvii, 1.3.

48. Pliny, vi, 26, computes Rome’s annual payment to India at 550,000,000 sesterces; but this is probably an exaggeration, for elsewhere (xii, 41) he estimates the yearly loss of Rome to India, China, and Arabia at 100,000,000 sesterces each.

49. Halliday, 97.

50. Tacitus, Annals, vi, 16-17; Suetonius, “Tiberius,” 48; Davis, Influence of Wealth, 1. Renan, in Lectures on the Influence of Rome on Christianity, 25, and The Apostles, 170, compares Tiberius’ relief measures to the Crédit Foncier of France in 1852; and Haskell compares the situation with the “easy money” period in the United States, 1923-9, the crisis of 1929, and the Reconstruction Finance Corporation (The New Deal in Old Rome, 183, 188).

51. Ovid, Fasti, i, 191.

52. In Toynbee, A., Study of History, I, 41n.

53. Davis, 242.

54. Beard, M., History of the Business Man, 47.

55. Athenaeus, vi, 104.

56. Seneca De dementia, i, 24.

56a. Sandys, Sir J., Companion to Latin Studies, 354.

57. Pliny, vii, 40.

58. Friedländer, II, 221.

59. Boissier, La réligion romaine, II, 330.

59a. Seneca De ira, iii, 3.

60. Juvenal, vi, 474.

61. Ovid, Ars amatoria, 235; Amores, i, 14.

62. In Holmes, Architect of the Roman Empire, 132.

63. Dill, 116.

64. Statius, Silvae, ii, 6.

65. Seneca, Epist., xlvii, 13.

66. Dill, 117.

68. Rostovtzeff, Roman Empire, 105; Reid, 323, 521.

69. Toutain, 304.

70. Frank, Economic History, 280.

71. Frank, Economic Survey, V, 235.

72. Petronius, 44.

73. Rostovtzeff, 172; Declareuil, J., Rome the Law-Giver, 269.

74. Pliny, xiii, 23.

CHAPTER XVI

1. Seneca in Friedländer, II, 321.

2. Livy, xxiv, 9; Pliny’s Letters, viii, 17; Tacitus, Annals, i, 70.

3. Strabo, v, 3.8.

4. Juvenal, iii, 235-244.

5. Ibid., v, 268.

6. Martial, cxvii, 7.

7. Friedländer, I, 5.

8. Pliny, xxxv, 45.

9. Friedländer, II, 317, 330.

10. Mau, A., Pompeii, 231; Rostovtzeff, Roman Empire, 135; Gest, 96.

15. Suetonius, “Nero,” 39.

16. In Boissier, Rome and Pompeii, 119.

17. Pliny, Nat. Hist., xxxiii, 45.

18. Boissier, Tacitus, 223.

18a. N. Y. Times, Apr. 27, 1943.

19. Mau, 414.

20. Pliny, xxxv, 66; Strabo, xvi, 25.

21. Winckelmann, J., History of Ancient Art, II, 312.

22. Reid, 278.

23. Cf. Strong, Art in Ancient Rome, II, fig. 341.

24. Valerius Maximus, Factorum et dictorum, viii, 14.

25. Pliny, xxxv, 37.

26. Cf. Maiuri, A., Les fresques de Pompeii, Table XXXIII.

27. Cf. Rostovtzeff, Mystic Italy, passim.

27a. Pliny, xxxv, 40.

28. Duff, Literary History of Rome, 632.

29. Vitruvius, ii, 4.

30. Ibid., i, 1.

31. Ibid., x, 9.

32. Friedländer, II, 191.

32a. Seneca, Epistles, lxxxviii.

32b. Kirstein, L., The Dance, 49.

32c. Lucretius, ii, 416; Ovid, Ars, i, 103.

33. Pliny, xxxvi, 24.

CHAPTER XVII

1. Juvenal, v, 141.

2. Petronius in Henderson, Nero, 326.

3. Seneca Ad Marciam, xix, 2.

4. Juvenal, vi, 367.

5. Friedländer, I, 238.

6. Cf. Pliny, xxiv, 11: “They say that if the male organ is rubbed with [oil or gum of] cedar just before coitus, it will prevent impregnation.” Cr. also Himes, 85f, 186.

7. Juvenal, vi, 592.

10. Gatteschi, G., Restauri della Roma Imperiale, 64.

11. Gibbon, I, 42; Friedländer, I, 17; Sandys, 355-7; Davis, 195; Paul-Louis, 15, 227.

12. Tacitus, Annals, xiii, 27.

13. Vogelstein, H., Rome, 10.

14. Cicero, Pro L. Flacco, 28.

15. Edersheim, A., Life and Times of Jesus the Messiah, I, 67.

16. Tacitus, Annals, ii, 85; Suetonius, “Tiberius,” 36.

17. Dio, lvii, 18; Schürer, History of the Jewish People, Div. II, Vol. II, 234.

18. Vogelstein, 17.

19. Ibid., 31, 33; Renan, Lectures, 50.

20. Tacitus, Annals, ii, 85; Ammanianus, M., xxii, 5.

21. Dill, 83-4.

22. Dio, lx, 33

23. Martial, vii, 30.

24. Juvenal, iii, 62.

25. In Bailey, 143.

26. Tacitus, xiv, 42, 60.

27. Juvenal, xiv, 44.

28. Gellius, xii, 1.

29. Enc. Brit., X, 10.

30. Horace, Satires, i, 6.75.

31. Pliny’s Letters, ii, 3.

32. Petronius, 1.

33. Pliny’s Letters, iv, 3.

34. Ovid, Ars amatoria, 98.

35. Juv., ix, 22.

36. Minucius Felix, Octavius, 67; Tertullian, Apology, 15.

37. Horaces, Epodes, xi.

38. Martial, viii, 44; xi, 70, 88, etc.; Juv., ii, vi, ix.

39. In Friedländer, I, 234.

40. Seneca the Elder, Controversiae, in Friedländer, I, 241.

41. Seneca, Ad Helviam, xvi, 3; Ad Marciam, xxiv, 3.

42. Ovid, Amores, i, 8.43; iii, 4.37.

43. Friedländer, I, 241.

44. Juv., vi, 228.

45. Ibid., 281.

46. I, 22.

47. Boissier, La réligion romaine, II, 197.

48. Juv., vi, 248.

49. Martial, De spectaculis, vi.

50. Statius, Silvae, i, 6.

51. Seneca, Moral Essays, i, 9.4.

52. Ovid, Ars amatoria, 113.

53. Martial, x, 35.

54. Ibid., i, 14.

55. Tacitus, Annals, xvi, 10.

56. Friedländer, I, 265.

57. Tacitus, xiv, 5.

58. Martial, vi, 57.

59. Catullus, lxxxvi.

60. Ovid, Ars, 158; Kohler, K., History of Costume, 118; Pfuhl, E., Masterpieces of Greek Drawing, fig. 117.

61. Tibullus, i, 8.

62. Juv., vi, 502.

63. Pliny, xxviii, 12.

64. Guhl and Konar, 498.

65. Martial, ix, 37.

66. Ovid, Ars, 160.

67. Pliny, ix, 63.

68. Ibid., xxxviii, 12.

69. IX, 58.

70. Friedländer, II, 181.

71. Pliny, xxxiii, 18.

72. Seneca, Epist., lxxxvi.

73. Pliny, viii, 74.

74. Quintilian, vi, 3.

75. Galen in Friedländer, II, 227. The remainder of this chapter is particularly indebted to Friedländer’s devoted accumulation of Roman mores.

76. Juv., vii, 178.

77. Jones, H. S., Companion to Roman History, 116; Friedländer, I, 12.

78. Seneca, Epist., lxxxvi.

79. Ker, W. C., in Martial, I, 244n.

80. Gardiner, E. N., Athletics of the Ancient World, 230.

81. Pliny, xxviii, 51.

82. Journal of the American Medical Association, Aug. 1, 1942, 1089.

83. Ovid, Ars, 165; Tristia, ii, 477-80.

84. Pliny, viii, 51, 77.

85. Ibid., ix, 30, 31.

86. Ibid., 39.

87. VIII, 82.

88. VIII, 77.

89. Seneca Ad Helviam, x, 9.

90. Ibid., 3.

91. Sandys, 502.

92. Mantzius, K., History of Theatrical Art, I, 217.

93. Suetonius, “Vespasian,” 19.

94. Mantzius, I, 218.

95. Boissier, La réligion romaine, II, 215.

96. Cicero Fro Murena, 6.

97. Lang, P. N., Music in Western Civilization, 35.

98. Ammianus, xiv, 6.

99. Martial, v, 78.

100. Ammianus, xiv, 6.

101. Seneca, Epist., lxxxviii.

102. Philostratus, Life of Apollonius of Tyana, v, 21.

103. Lang, 33.

104. Virgil, Aeneid, v, 362f.

105. Friedländer, II, 30.

106. Dio, lxi, 33.

107. Lecky, W. E., History of European Morals, I, 280.

108. Friedländer, II, 72.

109. Pliny, viii, 70.

110. Friedländer, II, 5.

111. Boissier, Tacitus, 246.

112. Martial, De spectaculis, vii.

113. Friedländer, II, 43.

114. Ibid., 49.

115. Epictetus, Discourses, i, 29.37.

116. Seneca, Epist., lxx.

117. Friedländer, II, 61.

118. Juv., iii, 36.

119. Pliny II, Panegyricus, xxxiii.

120. Tacitus, Annals, xiv, 44.

121. Cicero, Letters, vii, 1, to Marcus Marius, 55 B.C.

122. Seneca, Epist., vii, xcv.

123. In St. Augustine, City of God, vi, 10.

124. Tertullian, Apology, 15.

125. Juv., xiii, 35.

126. Abbott, Common People of Ancient Rome, 88; Dill, 498.

127. Friedländer, III, 283.

CHAPTER XVIII

1. Bury, J. B., History of the Roman Empire, 527.

2. Justinian, Digest, i, 1, in Scott, The Civil Law.

3. Gaius, Institutes, i, 8.

4. Maine, Sir H., Ancient Law. This generalization has been questioned, but seems substantially true.

5: Justinian, Codex, vii, 16.1.

6. Gaius, i, 144.

7. Ibid., 145, 194.

8. Buckland, W. W., Textbook of Roman Law, 113.

9. Gaius, i, 114.

10. Friedländer, I, 236.

11. Suetonius, “Vespasian,” 3; Hist. Aug., “Antoninus,” 8; “Aurelius,” 29.

12. Castiglione, 227.

13. Gaius, commentary, p. 66.

14. Ibid., p. 64.

15. Gaius, i, 56.

16. Davis, Influence of Wealth, 211.

17. Tacitus, xiv, 41.

18. Renan, Marc Aurèle, 24.

19. Ulpina, in Digest, L, 17.32.

20. Lecky, I, 295.

21. Gaius, iii, 40-1.

22. Cicero Ad Familiares, viii, 12, 14.

23. Gaius, ii, 157; iii, 2.

24. Maine, 117.

25. Buckland, 64.

26. Gaius, iii, 189; iv, 4.

27. Ibid., iv, 11.

28. In Friedländer, I, 165.

29. Ammianus, xxx, 4.

30. Ulpian in Digest, L, 13.1.

31. Quintilian, xii, 1.25.

32. Pliny’s Letters, v, 14.

33. Martial, vii, 65.

34. Pliny’s Letters, ii, 14.

35. Tacitus, Annals, xi, 5.

36. David, 125.

37. Pliny’s Letters, vi, 33.

38. Juv., xvi, 42.

39. Apuleius, Golden Ass, p. 245.

40. Psalms, cxvi, 11; St. Paul, Epistle to the Romans, iii, 4.

41. In Taylor, H., Cicero, 77.

42. Quintilian, v, 7.26.

43. Ibid., vi, 1.47.

44. Codex Theodosius, ix, 35, in Gibbon, II, 120.

45. Gellius, xx, 1.13.

46. Sallust, Catiline, 55.

47. Cicero, De re publica, iii, 22; cf. De officiis, i, 23; De legibus, i, 15.

48. Gaius, i, 1.

CHAPTER XIX

1. Ker, W., in Martial, II, 54n.

2. Dio, lxviii, 13.

3. Renan, Marc Aurèle, 479.

4. Dio, lxviii, 15.

5. Mahaffy, J., Silver Age of the Greek World, 307.

6. In CAH, XI, 201, 855.

7. Pliny II, Panegyricus, 50.

8. Justinian, Digest, xlviii, 19.5.

9. Bury, Roman Empire, 437.

10. Brittain, 366.

11. Wickhoff, 113.

12. Dio, lxix, 1.

13. Hist. Aug., “Hadrian,” i, 4.

14. Ibid, xxvi, 1.

15. Ibid.

16. XIV, 1.

17. Martial, viii, 70; ix, 26.

18. Hist. Aug., “Hadrian,” xv, 10.

19. Ibid., xx, 7.

20. Henderson, Hadrian, 207.

21. Eusebius, Ecclesiastical History, iv, 9.

22. Dio, lxix, 6.

23. Fronto, M., Correspondence, A.D. 162; 11, 4.

24. Hist. Aug., “Hadrian,” x, 1.

25. Winckelmann, I, 327.

26. Bevan, E. R., House of Seleucus, II, 15.

27. Hist. Aug., viii, 3.

29. Simpson, F. M., History of Architectural Development, 123.

30. Dio, lxix, 4; cf. Henderson, 247.

31. Dio, lxix, 8.

32. Hist. Aug., xxiv, 8.

33. Merivale, C, History of the Romans under the Empire, VIII, 255.

34. Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, 16.

35. Hist. Aug., “Antoninus,” iv, 8.

36. Ibid., viii, 1.

37. IX, 10.

38. Appian, preface, 7.

39. Bury, 566.

40. Renan, The Christian Church, 159.

41. Renan, Marc Aurèle, 2.

42. Gibbon, I, 76.

43. Marcus, i, 17.

44. Ibid., 1.

45. I, 14.

46. I, 15.

47. I, 14.

48. VII, 70.

49. Hist. Aug., “Marcus,” xxiii, 4.

50. Friedländer, III, 191.

51. Watson, P., Marcus Aurelius Antoninus, 297.

52. Castiglione, 244.

53. Galen, in Friedländer, I, 28.

54. Dio, lxii, 14.

55. Ammianus, xxv, 4.

56. Williams, H., I, 280.

57. Renan, Marc, 469.

58. Marcus, i, 17.

59. Bury, 547.

60. Hist. Aug., “Marcus,” xix, 7.

61. Marcus, x, 10.

62. Mommsen, Provinces, I, 253.

CHAPTER XX

1. Boissier, Tacitus, 2.

2. Tacitus, Agricola, 9.

3. Pliny’s Letters, ii, I ; vi, 16.

4. Agricola, end.

5. Germania, 25, 27.

6. Annals, iii, 65.

7. Historiae, i, 1.

8. Agricola, 4.

9. Germania, 34.

10. Annals, xvi, 33.

11. Ibid., iii, 18; vi, 22.

12. Germania, i, 33.

13. Agrícola, 46.

14. Annals, vi, 17.

15. Agrícola, 3.

16. Dialogue on Orators, 40.

17. Historiae, iii, 12, 64.

18. Agrícola, 18.

19. Historiae, i, 16.

20. Ibid.

21. Juvenal, i, 147.

23. X, 81.

24. VI, 652.

25. 434.

26. 448.

27. III.

28. XIV, 316.

29. X, 356.

30. Seneca, De beneficiis, i, 10; Epist., xcvii.

31. Pliny’s Letters, iii, 19.

32. V, 3.

33. 8.

34. I, 17.

35. VI, 32.

36. V, 16.

37. I, 16.

38. VII, 19.

39. VII, 20; IX, 23.

40. Boissier, Tacitus, 19.

41. Gibbon, I, 57.

42. Pliny’s Letters, iii, 12.

43. Strong, II, fig. 435.

44. Marcus, ii, 11.

45. VII, 75.

46. Ibid., 9; iv, 40, 27.

47. IV, 10.

48. II, 17.

49. III, 2.

50. X, 8.

51. IV, 23.

52. II, 17.

53. VII, 12.

54. XI, 1.

55. VIII, 10.

56. IV, 42,48; viii, 21.

57. VII, 3.

58. II, 1.

59. IX, 38; vii, 26.

60. VI, 48.

61. 44.

62. XI, 18.

63. IV, 49; viii, 61; ii, 5.

64. IV, 21; viii, 18; ii, 17.

65. IV, 14, 48; ix, 3.

66. Dio, lxxii, 2-3.

67. Hist. Aug., “Commodus,” 2, 14, 15.

68. Dio, lxxiii, 19.

69. Hist. Aug., 13.

70. Ibid., 2, 10, 11.

71. Paul-Louis, 215.

CHAPTER XXI

1. Pliny, Nat. Hist., iii, 6.

2. Dill, 239.

3. Fattorusso, J., Wonders of Italy, 473.

4. Herodotus, i, 196.

5. Strabo, v, 1.7.

6. Varro, Rerum rust., i, 2.

7. Pliny, iii, 6.

8. Strabo, v, 4.5.

9. Varro, Sat. Men., frag. 44, in Friedländer, I, 338.

10. Boissier, Cicero, 168.

11. Seneca, Epist. Ii.

12. Strabo, v, 4.3.

13. Reid, 3.

14. Dio, lxvi, 22.

15. Pliny’s Letters, vi, 16.

16. Ibid., 20.

17. Rostovtzeff, Mystic Italy, 52.

18. Mau, 491; Boissier, Rome and Pompeii, 430.

19. Id., La réligion romaine, II, 296.

20. Mau, 226, 148.

21. Ibid., 16.

22. Rostovtzeff, Roman Empire, 142; Dill, 194; Frank, Economic Survey, V, 98; Friedländer, II, 254.

23. CAH, XI, 587; Friedländer, II, 228.

24. As at Antium, Lanuvium, Tibur, Aricia.

CHAPTER XXII

1. Cicero, II, In Verren, iii, 207.

2. Tacitus, Annals, xii, 31.

3. Cicero, Pro lege Manilia, 6.

4. Plutarch, De reip. ger., 32.

5. Mommsen, History, II, 205.

6. Livy, xxv, 29.

7. Reid, 288.

8. Toutain, 269.

9. Bouchier, E., Life and Letters in Roman Africa, 73.

10. St. Augustine, Letters, 185.

11. Friedländer, I, 312.

12. Boissier, L’Afrique romaine, 181-2; Davis, 200.

13. Bouchier, 33.

14. Juvenal, vii, 148.

15. Apuleius, 41; a fine example of Adlington’s delectable translation (1566).

16. Book XI.

17. Books IV-VI.

18. Strabo, iii, 4.16.

19. Ibid., 3.7.

20. Ibid., 4.16-18.

21. Buchan, 310.

22. Gest, 201.

23. Caesar, Bello Gallico, ii, 30.

24. Pliny, xxxviii, 5.

25. Appian, iv, 7.

26. Strabo, iv, 4.5.

27. Ibid.

28. Caesar, v, 34.

29. Ammianus, xv, 12.

30. Caesar, vi, 14; Val. Max; ii, 6; Hammerton, J., Universal History of the World, III. 1524.

31. Caesar, vi, 14.

33. Arnold, W. P., The Roman System of Provincial Administration, 142.

34. Pliny, xviii, 72.

35. Frank, Economic Survey, V, 133f.

36. Pliny, xxxiv, 18.

37. Ibid., iii, 5.

38. Sidonius Apollinaris, Poems, xxiii, 37.

40. Jullian, C. Histoire de la Gaule, V, 35n.

41. In Mommsen, Provinces, I, 118.

43. See the statement of their case in Barnes, H. E., History of Western Civilization, I, 434.

44. Mommsen, History, V, 100.

45. Caesar, V, 12.

46. Tacitus, Annals, xiv, 29.

47. Tacitus, Agricola, 21.

48. Haverfield, F., The Roman Occupation of Britain, 213.

49. Id., The Romanization of Britain, 62; Collingwood and Myres, Roman Britain, 197; Home, G., Roman London, 93.

50. Strabo, iv, 5.2.

51. CAH, XII, 289.

52. Time, Mar. 17, 1941.

53. Tacitus, Germania, 14.

54. Strabo, vii, 1.2.

55. Seneca, De ira, v, 10.

56. Germania, 22.

57. Sumner, W. G., Folkways, 380.

58. Ibid., 316.

59. Germania, 20.

CHAPTER XXIII

1. Dio Chrysostom, Orat., vii.

2. Plutarch, “Demosthenes.”

3. In Trench, R. C, Plutarch, 40.

4. Ibid., 41.

5. In Glover, T. R., Conflict of Religions in the Early Roman Empire, 85.

6. Plutarch, Quaestiones Romanai; De Isise et osiride.

7. Plutarch, Moralia, introd., I, 15.

8. Ibid., 37.

9. Ibid., vol. II, pp. 123, 128, 131-2, 173.

10. Ibid., 140B.

11. De tranq. an., ix, 20.

12. Dio Chr., Orat., xii.

13. Epictetus, Discourses, i, 6.26.

14. Lucian, “Of Pantomime,” 2.

15. Id., “Demonax,” 57.

16. Apuleius, book X.

17. Alciphron, Letters, vi, p. 175.

18. Dio. Chr., Orat., lxxii.

19. Philostratus, Lives of the Sophists, 223f.

20. Renan, Christian Church, 167.

21. Our sole source for Demonax is an essay uncertainly ascribed to Lucian, and possibly colored with fiction.

22. Lucian, “Peregrinus Proteus.”

23. Renan, Christian Church, 166.

24. Lucian, “Demonax,” 55; Epictetus, Discourses, iii, 22.

25. Id., frag. 1.

27. I, 12, 21; vi, 25.

28. IV, 1.

29. I, 24.

30. II, 5.

31. I, 2.

32. Encheiridion, 8.

33. Discourses, i, 6.

34. Ibid., 9.

35. 3, 9; ii, 8.

36. I, 29.

37. III, 24; ii, 6.

38. I, 16.

39. I, 18, 19; frag. 43.

40. III, 10.

41. Frag. 42.

42. Encheir., 33.

43. Discourses, ii, 10.

44. III, 12.

45. 13.

46. Frags. 54, 94.

47. Discourses, ii, 16.

48. I, 9.