Gibbon's The Decline And Fall Of The Roman Empire
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Chapter IV: The Cruelty, Follies And Murder Of Commodus. -- Part II.
Pestilence and famine contributed to fill up the measure of the
calamities of Rome. The first could be only imputed to the just
indignation of the gods; but a monopoly of corn, supported by the riches
and power of the minister, was considered as the immediate cause of the
second. The popular discontent, after it had long circulated in
whispers, broke out in the assembled circus. The people quitted their
favorite amusements for the more delicious pleasure of revenge, rushed
in crowds towards a palace in the suburbs, one of the emperor's
retirements, and demanded, with angry clamors, the head of the public
enemy. Cleander, who commanded the Prætorian guards, ordered a body of
cavalry to sally forth, and disperse the seditious multitude. The
multitude fled with precipitation towards the city; several were slain,
and many more were trampled to death; but when the cavalry entered the
streets, their pursuit was checked by a shower of stones and darts from
the roofs and windows of the houses. The foot guards, who had been long
jealous of the prerogatives and insolence of the Prætorian cavalry,
embraced the party of the people. The tumult became a regular
engagement, and threatened a general massacre. The Prætorians, at
length, gave way, oppressed with numbers; and the tide of popular fury
returned with redoubled violence against the gates of the palace, where
Commodus lay, dissolved in luxury, and alone unconscious of the civil
war. It was death to approach his person with the unwelcome news. He
would have perished in this supine security, had not two women, his
eldest sister Fadilla, and Marcia, the most favored of his concubines,
ventured to break into his presence. Bathed in tears, and with
dishevelled hair, they threw themselves at his feet; and with all the
pressing eloquence of fear, discovered to the affrighted emperor the
crimes of the minister, the rage of the people, and the impending ruin,
which, in a few minutes, would burst over his palace and person.
Commodus started from his dream of pleasure, and commanded that the head
of Cleander should be thrown out to the people. The desired spectacle
instantly appeased the tumult; and the son of Marcus might even yet have
regained the affection and confidence of his subjects.
But every sentiment of virtue and humanity was extinct in the mind of
Commodus. Whilst he thus abandoned the reins of empire to these unworthy
favorites, he valued nothing in sovereign power, except the unbounded
license of indulging his sensual appetites. His hours were spent in a
seraglio of three hundred beautiful women, and as many boys, of every
rank, and of every province; and, wherever the arts of seduction proved
ineffectual, the brutal lover had recourse to violence. The ancient
historians have expatiated on these abandoned scenes of prostitution,
which scorned every restraint of nature or modesty; but it would not be
easy to translate their too faithful descriptions into the decency of
modern language. The intervals of lust were filled up with the basest
amusements. The influence of a polite age, and the labor of an attentive
education, had never been able to infuse into his rude and brutish mind
the least tincture of learning; and he was the first of the Roman
emperors totally devoid of taste for the pleasures of the understanding.
Nero himself excelled, or affected to excel, in the elegant arts of
music and poetry: nor should we despise his pursuits, had he not
converted the pleasing relaxation of a leisure hour into the serious
business and ambition of his life. But Commodus, from his earliest
infancy, discovered an aversion to whatever was rational or liberal, and
a fond attachment to the amusements of the populace; the sports of the
circus and amphitheatre, the combats of gladiators, and the hunting of
wild beasts. The masters in every branch of learning, whom Marcus
provided for his son, were heard with inattention and disgust; whilst
the Moors and Parthians, who taught him to dart the javelin and to shoot
with the bow, found a disciple who delighted in his application, and
soon equalled the most skilful of his instructors in the steadiness of
the eye and the dexterity of the hand.
The servile crowd, whose fortune depended on their master's vices,
applauded these ignoble pursuits. The perfidious voice of flattery
reminded him, that by exploits of the same nature, by the defeat of the
Nemæan lion, and the slaughter of the wild boar of Erymanthus, the
Grecian Hercules had acquired a place among the gods, and an immortal
memory among men. They only forgot to observe, that, in the first ages
of society, when the fiercer animals often dispute with man the
possession of an unsettled country, a successful war against those
savages is one of the most innocent and beneficial labors of heroism. In
the civilized state of the Roman empire, the wild beasts had long since
retired from the face of man, and the neighborhood of populous cities.
To surprise them in their solitary haunts, and to transport them to
Rome, that they might be slain in pomp by the hand of an emperor, was an
enterprise equally ridiculous for the prince and oppressive for the
people. Ignorant of these distinctions, Commodus eagerly embraced the
glorious resemblance, and styled himself (as we still read on his medals
) the Roman Hercules. * The club and the lion's hide were placed by the
side of the throne, amongst the ensigns of sovereignty; and statues were
erected, in which Commodus was represented in the character, and with
the attributes, of the god, whose valor and dexterity he endeavored to
emulate in the daily course of his ferocious amusements.
Elated with these praises, which gradually extinguished the innate sense
of shame, Commodus resolved to exhibit before the eyes of the Roman
people those exercises, which till then he had decently confined within
the walls of his palace, and to the presence of a few favorites. On the
appointed day, the various motives of flattery, fear, and curiosity,
attracted to the amphitheatre an innumerable multitude of spectators;
and some degree of applause was deservedly bestowed on the uncommon
skill of the Imperial performer. Whether he aimed at the head or heart
of the animal, the wound was alike certain and mortal. With arrows whose
point was shaped into the form of crescent, Commodus often intercepted
the rapid career, and cut asunder the long, bony neck of the ostrich. A
panther was let loose; and the archer waited till he had leaped upon a
trembling malefactor. In the same instant the shaft flew, the beast
dropped dead, and the man remained unhurt. The dens of the amphitheatre
disgorged at once a hundred lions: a hundred darts from the unerring
hand of Commodus laid them dead as they run raging round the Arena.
Neither the huge bulk of the elephant, nor the scaly hide of the
rhinoceros, could defend them from his stroke. Æthiopia and India
yielded their most extraordinary productions; and several animals were
slain in the amphitheatre, which had been seen only in the
representations of art, or perhaps of fancy. In all these exhibitions,
the securest precautions were used to protect the person of the Roman
Hercules from the desperate spring of any savage, who might possibly
disregard the dignity of the emperor and the sanctity of the god. ^
But the meanest of the populace were affected with shame and indignation
when they beheld their sovereign enter the lists as a gladiator, and
glory in a profession which the laws and manners of the Romans had
branded with the justest note of infamy. He chose the habit and arms of
the Secutor, whose combat with the Retiarius formed one of the most
lively scenes in the bloody sports of the amphitheatre. The Secutor was
armed with a helmet, sword, and buckler; his naked antagonist had only a
large net and a trident; with the one he endeavored to entangle, with
the other to despatch his enemy. If he missed the first throw, he was
obliged to fly from the pursuit of the Secutor, till he had prepared his
net for a second cast. The emperor fought in this character seven
hundred and thirty-five several times. These glorious achievements were
carefully recorded in the public acts of the empire; and that he might
omit no circumstance of infamy, he received from the common fund of
gladiators a stipend so exorbitant that it became a new and most
ignominious tax upon the Roman people. It may be easily supposed, that
in these engagements the master of the world was always successful; in
the amphitheatre, his victories were not often sanguinary; but when he
exercised his skill in the school of gladiators, or his own palace, his
wretched antagonists were frequently honored with a mortal wound from
the hand of Commodus, and obliged to seal their flattery with their
blood. He now disdained the appellation of Hercules. The name of Paulus,
a celebrated Secutor, was the only one which delighted his ear. It was
inscribed on his colossal statues, and repeated in the redoubled
acclamations of the mournful and applauding senate. Claudius Pompeianus,
the virtuous husband of Lucilla, was the only senator who asserted the
honor of his rank. As a father, he permitted his sons to consult their
safety by attending the amphitheatre. As a Roman, he declared, that his
own life was in the emperor's hands, but that he would never behold the
son of Marcus prostituting his person and dignity. Notwithstanding his
manly resolution Pompeianus escaped the resentment of the tyrant, and,
with his honor, had the good fortune to preserve his life.
Commodus had now attained the summit of vice and infamy. Amidst the
acclamations of a flattering court, he was unable to disguise from
himself, that he had deserved the contempt and hatred of every man of
sense and virtue in his empire. His ferocious spirit was irritated by
the consciousness of that hatred, by the envy of every kind of merit, by
the just apprehension of danger, and by the habit of slaughter, which he
contracted in his daily amusements. History has preserved a long list of
consular senators sacrificed to his wanton suspicion, which sought out,
with peculiar anxiety, those unfortunate persons connected, however
remotely, with the family of the Antonines, without sparing even the
ministers of his crimes or pleasures. His cruelty proved at last fatal
to himself. He had shed with impunity the noblest blood of Rome: he
perished as soon as he was dreaded by his own domestics. Marcia, his
favorite concubine, Eclectus, his chamberlain, and Lætus, his Prætorian
præfect, alarmed by the fate of their companions and predecessors,
resolved to prevent the destruction which every hour hung over their
heads, either from the mad caprice of the tyrant, * or the sudden
indignation of the people. Marcia seized the occasion of presenting a
draught of wine to her lover, after he had fatigued himself with hunting
some wild beasts. Commodus retired to sleep; but whilst he was laboring
with the effects of poison and drunkenness, a robust youth, by
profession a wrestler, entered his chamber, and strangled him without
resistance. The body was secretly conveyed out of the palace, before the
least suspicion was entertained in the city, or even in the court, of
the emperor's death. Such was the fate of the son of Marcus, and so easy
was it to destroy a hated tyrant, who, by the artificial powers of
government, had oppressed, during thirteen years, so many millions of
subjects, each of whom was equal to their master in personal strength
and personal abilities.
The measures of he conspirators were conducted with the deliberate
coolness and celerity which the greatness of the occasion required. They
resolved instantly to fill the vacant throne with an emperor whose
character would justify and maintain the action that had been committed.
They fixed on Pertinax, præfect of the city, an ancient senator of
consular rank, whose conspicuous merit had broke through the obscurity
of his birth, and raised him to the first honors of the state. He had
successively governed most of the provinces of the empire; and in all
his great employments, military as well as civil, he had uniformly
distinguished himself by the firmness, the prudence, and the integrity
of his conduct. He now remained almost alone of the friends and
ministers of Marcus; and when, at a late hour of the night, he was
awakened with the news, that the chamberlain and the præfect were at his
door, he received them with intrepid resignation, and desired they would
execute their master's orders. Instead of death, they offered him the
throne of the Roman world. During some moments he distrusted their
intentions and assurances. Convinced at length of the death of Commodus,
he accepted the purple with a sincere reluctance, the natural effect of
his knowledge both of the duties and of the dangers of the supreme rank.
Lætus conducted without delay his new emperor to the camp of the
Prætorians, diffusing at the same time through the city a seasonable
report that Commodus died suddenly of an apoplexy; and that the virtuous
Pertinax had already succeeded to the throne. The guards were rather
surprised than pleased with the suspicious death of a prince, whose
indulgence and liberality they alone had experienced; but the emergency
of the occasion, the authority of their præfect, the reputation of
Pertinax, and the clamors of the people, obliged them to stifle their
secret discontents, to accept the donative promised by the new emperor,
to swear allegiance to him, and with joyful acclamations and laurels in
their hands to conduct him to the senate house, that the military
consent might be ratified by the civil authority.
This important night was now far spent; with the dawn of day, and the
commencement of the new year, the senators expected a summons to attend
an ignominious ceremony. * In spite of all remonstrances, even of those
of his creatures who yet preserved any regard for prudence or decency,
Commodus had resolved to pass the night in the gladiators' school, and
from thence to take possession of the consulship, in the habit and with
the attendance of that infamous crew. On a sudden, before the break of
day, the senate was called together in the temple of Concord, to meet
the guards, and to ratify the election of a new emperor. For a few
minutes they sat in silent suspense, doubtful of their unexpected
deliverance, and suspicious of the cruel artifices of Commodus: but when
at length they were assured that the tyrant was no more, they resigned
themselves to all the transports of joy and indignation. Pertinax, who
modestly represented the meanness of his extraction, and pointed out
several noble senators more deserving than himself of the empire, was
constrained by their dutiful violence to ascend the throne, and received
all the titles of Imperial power, confirmed by the most sincere vows of
fidelity. The memory of Commodus was branded with eternal infamy. The
names of tyrant, of gladiator, of public enemy resounded in every corner
of the house. They decreed in tumultuous votes, that his honors should
be reversed, his titles erased from the public monuments, his statues
thrown down, his body dragged with a hook into the stripping room of the
gladiators, to satiate the public fury; and they expressed some
indignation against those officious servants who had already presumed to
screen his remains from the justice of the senate. But Pertinax could
not refuse those last rites to the memory of Marcus, and the tears of
his first protector Claudius Pompeianus, who lamented the cruel fate of
his brother-in-law, and lamented still more that he had deserved it.
These effusions of impotent rage against a dead emperor, whom the senate
had flattered when alive with the most abject servility, betrayed a just
but ungenerous spirit of revenge. The legality of these decrees was,
however, supported by the principles of the Imperial constitution. To
censure, to depose, or to punish with death, the first magistrate of the
republic, who had abused his delegated trust, was the ancient and
undoubted prerogative of the Roman senate; but the feeble assembly was
obliged to content itself with inflicting on a fallen tyrant that public
justice, from which, during his life and reign, he had been shielded by
the strong arm of military despotism. *
Pertinax found a nobler way of condemning his predecessor's memory; by
the contrast of his own virtues with the vices of Commodus. On the day
of his accession, he resigned over to his wife and son his whole private
fortune; that they might have no pretence to solicit favors at the
expense of the state. He refused to flatter the vanity of the former
with the title of Augusta; or to corrupt the inexperienced youth of the
latter by the rank of Cæsar. Accurately distinguishing between the
duties of a parent and those of a sovereign, he educated his son with a
severe simplicity, which, while it gave him no assured prospect of the
throne, might in time have rendered him worthy of it. In public, the
behavior of Pertinax was grave and affable. He lived with the virtuous
part of the senate, (and, in a private station, he had been acquainted
with the true character of each individual,) without either pride or
jealousy; considered them as friends and companions, with whom he had
shared the danger of the tyranny, and with whom he wished to enjoy the
security of the present time. He very frequently invited them to
familiar entertainments, the frugality of which was ridiculed by those
who remembered and regretted the luxurious prodigality of Commodus.
To heal, as far as I was possible, the wounds inflicted by the hand of
tyranny, was the pleasing, but melancholy, task of Pertinax. The
innocent victims, who yet survived, were recalled from exile, released
from prison, and restored to the full possession of their honors and
fortunes. The unburied bodies of murdered senators (for the cruelty of
Commodus endeavored to extend itself beyond death) were deposited in the
sepulchres of their ancestors; their memory was justified and every
consolation was bestowed on their ruined and afflicted families. Among
these consolations, one of the most grateful was the punishment of the
Delators; the common enemies of their master, of virtue, and of their
country. Yet even in the inquisition of these legal assassins, Pertinax
proceeded with a steady temper, which gave every thing to justice, and
nothing to popular prejudice and resentment.
The finances of the state demanded the most vigilant care of the
emperor. Though every measure of injustice and extortion had been
adopted, which could collect the property of the subject into the
coffers of the prince, the rapaciousness of Commodus had been so very
inadequate to his extravagance, that, upon his death, no more than eight
thousand pounds were found in the exhausted treasury, to defray the
current expenses of government, and to discharge the pressing demand of
a liberal donative, which the new emperor had been obliged to promise to
the Prætorian guards. Yet under these distressed circumstances, Pertinax
had the generous firmness to remit all the oppressive taxes invented by
Commodus, and to cancel all the unjust claims of the treasury;
declaring, in a decree of the senate, "that he was better satisfied to
administer a poor republic with innocence, than to acquire riches by the
ways of tyranny and dishonor. "Economy and industry he considered as the
pure and genuine sources of wealth; and from them he soon derived a
copious supply for the public necessities. The expense of the household
was immediately reduced to one half. All the instruments of luxury
Pertinax exposed to public auction, gold and silver plate, chariots of a
singular construction, a superfluous wardrobe of silk and embroidery,
and a great number of beautiful slaves of both sexes; excepting only,
with attentive humanity, those who were born in a state of freedom, and
had been ravished from the arms of their weeping parents. At the same
time that he obliged the worthless favorites of the tyrant to resign a
part of their ill-gotten wealth, he satisfied the just creditors of the
state, and unexpectedly discharged the long arrears of honest services.
He removed the oppressive restrictions which had been laid upon
commerce, and granted all the uncultivated lands in Italy and the
provinces to those who would improve them; with an exemption from
tribute during the term of ten years.
Such a uniform conduct had already secured to Pertinax the noblest
reward of a sovereign, the love and esteem of his people. Those who
remembered the virtues of Marcus were happy to contemplate in their new
emperor the features of that bright original; and flattered themselves,
that they should long enjoy the benign influence of his administration.
A hasty zeal to reform the corrupted state, accompanied with less
prudence than might have been expected from the years and experience of
Pertinax, proved fatal to himself and to his country. His honest
indiscretion united against him the servile crowd, who found their
private benefit in the public disorders, and who preferred the favor of
a tyrant to the inexorable equality of the laws.
Amidst the general joy, the sullen and angry countenance of the
Prætorian guards betrayed their inward dissatisfaction. They had
reluctantly submitted to Pertinax; they dreaded the strictness of the
ancient discipline, which he was preparing to restore; and they
regretted the license of the former reign. Their discontents were
secretly fomented by Lætus, their præfect, who found, when it was too
late, that his new emperor would reward a servant, but would not be
ruled by a favorite. On the third day of his reign, the soldiers seized
on a noble senator, with a design to carry him to the camp, and to
invest him with the Imperial purple. Instead of being dazzled by the
dangerous honor, the affrighted victim escaped from their violence, and
took refuge at the feet of Pertinax. A short time afterwards, Sosius
Falco, one of the consuls of the year, a rash youth, but of an ancient
and opulent family, listened to the voice of ambition; and a conspiracy
was formed during a short absence of Pertinax, which was crushed by his
sudden return to Rome, and his resolute behavior. Falco was on the point
of being justly condemned to death as a public enemy had he not been
saved by the earnest and sincere entreaties of the injured emperor, who
conjured the senate, that the purity of his reign might not be stained
by the blood even of a guilty senator.
These disappointments served only to irritate the rage of the Prætorian
guards. On the twenty-eighth of March, eighty-six days only after the
death of Commodus, a general sedition broke out in the camp, which the
officers wanted either power or inclination to suppress. Two or three
hundred of the most desperate soldiers marched at noonday, with arms in
their hands and fury in their looks, towards the Imperial palace. The
gates were thrown open by their companions upon guard, and by the
domestics of the old court, who had already formed a secret conspiracy
against the life of the too virtuous emperor. On the news of their
approach, Pertinax, disdaining either flight or concealment, advanced to
meet his assassins; and recalled to their minds his own innocence, and
the sanctity of their recent oath. For a few moments they stood in
silent suspense, ashamed of their atrocious design, and awed by the
venerable aspect and majestic firmness of their sovereign, till at
length, the despair of pardon reviving their fury, a barbarian of the
country of Tongress levelled the first blow against Pertinax, who was
instantly despatched with a multitude of wounds. His head, separated
from his body, and placed on a lance, was carried in triumph to the
Prætorian camp, in the sight of a mournful and indignant people, who
lamented the unworthy fate of that excellent prince, and the transient
blessings of a reign, the memory of which could serve only to aggravate
their approaching misfortunes.
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