by Will Durant
II. THE TRANSFORMATION OF ROME
Step by step the Roman Empire grew, not so much through conscious design as through the compulsions of circumstance and the ever receding frontiers of security. In bloody battles at Cremona (200) and Mutina (193) the legions again subdued Cisalpine Gaul and pushed the boundaries of Italy to the Alps. Spain, rewon from Carthage, had to be kept under control lest Carthage should win it again; besides, it was rich in iron, silver, and gold. The Senate exacted from it a heavy annual tribute in the form of bullion and coin, and the Roman governors reimbursed themselves liberally for spending a year away from home; so Quintus Minucius, after a brief proconsulate in Spain, brought to Rome 34,800 pounds of silver and 35,000 silver denarii. Spaniards were conscripted into the Roman army; Scipio Aemilianus had 40,000 of them in the force with which he took Spanish Numantia. In 195 B.C.. the tribes broke out in wild revolt, which Marcus Cato put down with a hard integrity that recalled the proud virtues of a vanishing Roman breed. Tiberius Sempronius Gracchus (179) adjusted his rule sympathetically to the character and civilization of the native population, made friends of the tribal chieftains, and distributed land among the poor. But one of his successors, Lucius Lucullus (151), violated the treaties made by Gracchus, attacked without cause any tribe that could yield plunder, and slaughtered or enslaved thousands of Spaniards without bothering to invent a pretext. Sulpicius Galba (150) lured 7000 natives to his camp by a treaty promising them land; when they arrived he had them surrounded and enslaved or massacred. In 154 the tribes of Lusitania (Portugal) began a sixteen-year war against Rome. An able leader, Viriathus, appeared among them, heroic in stature, endurance, courage, and nobility; for eight years he defeated every army sent against him, until at last the Romans purchased his assassination. The rebellious Celtiberians of central Spain bore a siege of fifteen months in Numantia, living on their dead; at last (133) Scipio Aemilianus starved them into surrender. In general the policy of the Roman Republic in Spain was so brutal and dishonest that it cost more than it paid. “Never,” said Mommsen, “had war been waged with so much perfidy, cruelty, and avarice.”4
The plunder from the provinces provided the funds for that orgy of corrupt and selfish wealth which was to consume the Republic in revolution. The indemnities paid by Carthage, Macedon, and Syria, the slaves that poured into Rome from every field of glory, the precious metals captured in the conquest of Cisalpine Gaul and Spain, the 400,000,000 sesterces ($60,000,000) taken from Antiochus and Perseus, the 4503 pounds of gold and 220,000 pounds of silver seized by Manlius Vulso in his Asiatic campaigns5—these and other windfalls turned the propertied classes in Rome in half a century (202-146 B.C..) from men of means into persons of such opulence as hitherto only monarchs had known. Soldiers returned from these gigantic raids with their pouches full of coins and spoils. As currency multiplied in Italy faster than building, the owners of realty in the capital tripled their fortunes without stirring a muscle or a nerve. Industry lagged while commerce flourished; Rome did not have to produce goods; it took the world’s money and paid with that for the world’s goods. Public works were expanded beyond precedent and enriched the “publicans” who lived on state contracts; any Roman who had a little money bought shares in their corporations.6 Bankers proliferated and prospered; they paid interest on deposits, cashed checks (praescriptiones), met bills for their clients, lent and borrowed money, made or managed investments, and fattened on such relentless usury that cutthroat (sector) and moneylender became one word.7 Rome was becoming not the industrial or commercial, but the financial and political, center of the white man’s world.
Equipped with such means, the Roman patriciate and upper middle class passed with impressive speed from stoic simplicity to reckless luxury; the lifetime of Cato (234-149) saw the transformation almost completed. Houses became larger as families became smaller; furniture grew lavish in a race for conspicuous expense; great sums were paid for Babylonian rugs, for couches inlaid with ivory, silver, or gold; precious stones and metals shone on tables and chairs, on the bodies of women, on the harness of horses. As physical exertion diminished and wealth expanded, the old simple diet gave way to long and heavy meals of meat, game, delicacies, and condiments. Exotic foods were indispensable to social position or pretense; one magnate paid a thousand sesterces for the oysters served at a meal; another imported anchovies at 1600 sesterces a cask; another paid 1200 for a jar of caviar.8 Good chefs fetched enormous prices on the slave auction block. Drinking increased; goblets had to be large and preferably of gold; wine was less diluted, sometimes not at all. Sumptuary laws were passed by the Senate limiting expenditure on banquets and clothing, but as the senators ignored these regulations, no one bothered to observe them. “The citizens,” Cato mourned, “no longer listen to good advice, for the belly has no ears.”9 The individual became rebelliously conscious of himself as against the state, the son as against the father, the woman as against the man.
Usually the power of woman rises with the wealth of a society, for when the stomach is satisfied hunger leaves the field to love. Prostitution flourished. Homosexualism was stimulated by contact with Greece and Asia; many rich men paid a talent ($3600) for a male favorite; Cato complained that a pretty boy cost more than a farm.10 But women did not yield the field to these Greek and Syrian invaders. They took eagerly to all those supports of beauty that wealth now put within their reach. Cosmetics became a necessity, and caustic soap imported from Gaul tinged graying hair into auburn locks.11 The rich bourgeois took pride in adorning his wife and daughter with costly clothing or jewelry and made them the town criers of his prosperity. Even in government the role of women grew. Cato cried out that “all other men rule over women; but we Romans, who rule all men, are ruled by our women.”12 In 195 B.C.. the free women of Rome swept into the Forum and demanded the repeal of the Oppian Law of 215, which had forbidden women to use gold ornaments, varicolored dresses, or chariots. Cato predicted the ruin of Rome if the law should be repealed. Livy puts into his mouth a speech that every generation has heard:
If we had, each of us, upheld the rights and authority of the husband in our own households, we should not today have this trouble with our women. As things are now, our liberty of action, which has been annulled by female despotism at home, is crushed and trampled on here in the Forum. . . . Call to mind all the regulations respecting women by which our ancestors curbed their license and made them obedient to their husbands; and yet with all those restrictions you can scarcely hold them in. If now you permit them to remove these restraints . . . and to put themselves on an equality with their husbands, do you imagine that you will be able to bear them? From the moment that they become your equals they will be your masters.13
The women laughed him down, and stood their ground until the law was repealed. Cato revenged himself as censor by multiplying by ten the taxes on the articles that Oppius had forbidden. But the tide was in flow, and could not be turned. Other laws disadvantageous to women were repealed or modified or ignored. Women won the free administration of their dowries, divorced their husbands or occasionally poisoned them, and doubted the wisdom of bearing children in an age of urban congestion and imperialistic wars.
Already by 160 Cato and Polybius had noted a decline of population and the inability of the state to raise such armies as had risen to meet Hannibal. The new generation, having inherited world mastery, had no time or inclination to defend it; that readiness for war which had characterized the Roman landowner disappeared now that ownership was being concentrated in a few families and a proletariat without stake in the country filled the slums of Rome. Men became brave by proxy; they crowded the amphitheater to see bloody games, and hired gladiators to fight before them at their banquets. Finishing schools were opened for both sexes, where young men and women learned to sing, play the lyre, and move gracefully.14 In the upper classes manners became more refined as morals were relaxed. In the lower classes manners continued to be coarse and vigorous, amusements often violent, language
freely obscene; we get the odor of this lusty profanum vulgus in Plautus, and understand why it wearied of Terence. When a band of flute players attempted a musical concert at a triumph in 167, the audience forced the musicians to change their performance into a boxing match.15
In the widening middle classes commercialism ruled unhindered. Their wealth was based no longer on realty but on mercantile investment or management. The old morality and a few Catos could not keep this new regime of mobile capital from setting the tone of Roman life. Everyone longed for money, everyone judged or was judged in terms of money. Contractors cheated on such a scale that many government properties—e.g., the Macedonian mines—had to be abandoned because the lessees exploited the workers and mulcted the state to a point where the enterprise brought in more tribulation than profit.16 That aristocracy which (if we may believe the historians—and we must not) had once esteemed honor above life adopted the new morality and shared in the new wealth; it thought no longer of the nation, but of class and individual privileges and perquisites; it accepted presents and liberal bribes for bestowing its favor upon men or states, and found ready reasons for war with countries that had more wealth than power. Patricians stopped plebeians in the street and asked or paid for their votes. It became a common thing for magistrates to embezzle public funds and an uncommon thing to see them prosecuted; for who could punish robbery among his fellows when half the members of the Senate had joined in violating treaties, robbing allies, and despoiling provinces? “He who steals from a citizen,” said Cato, “ends his days in fetters and chains; but he who steals from the community ends them in purple and gold.”17
Nevertheless, the prestige of the Senate was higher than ever before. It had brought Rome successfully through two Punic Wars and three Macedonian Wars; it had challenged and overcome all of Rome’s rivals, had won the subservient friendship of Egypt, and had captured so much of the world’s wealth that in 146 Italy was freed from direct taxation. In the crises of war and policy it had usurped many powers of the assemblies and the magistrates, but victory sanctified its usurpations. The machinery of the cormtia had been made ridiculous by empire; the turbulent peoples who now submitted to rule by a Senate largely composed of seasoned statesmen and triumphant generals would have protested passionately against having their affairs determined by the few thousand Italians who could attend the assemblies in Rome. The principle of democracy is freedom, the principle of war is discipline; each requires the absence of the other. War demands superior intelligence and courage, quick decisions, united action, immediate obedience; the frequency of war doomed democracy. By law the Centurial Assembly alone had the right to declare war or make peace; but by its power to conduct foreign relations the Senate could usually bring matters to a point where the Assembly had no longer any practical choice.18 The Senate controlled the Treasury and all outlays of public funds; and it controlled the judiciary by the rule that all important juries had to be taken from the Senatorial list. The formulation and interpretation of the laws were in the hands of the patrician class.
Within this aristocracy there was an oligarchy of dominant families. Till Sulla, Roman history is a record of families rather than of individuals; no great statesman stands out, but generation after generation the same names occur in the higher offices of the state. Out of 200 consuls between 233 and 133 B.C.., 159 belonged to twenty-six families, one hundred to ten. The most powerful family in this period was the Cornelii. From the Publius Cornelius Scipio who lost the battle of the Trebia (218), through his son Scipio Africanus who defeated Hannibal, to the latter’s adoptive grandson, Scipio Aemilianus, who destroyed Carthage in 146, the history of Roman politics and war is largely the story of this family; and the revolution that destroyed the aristocracy was begun by the Gracchi, grandsons of Africanus. The saving victory at Zama made Africanus so popular with all classes that for a time Rome was ready to give him any office he desired. But when he and his brother Lucius returned from the war in Asia (187), the party of Cato demanded that Lucius should give an account of the money paid him by Antiochus as an indemnity to be transmitted to Rome. Africanus refused to let his brother answer; instead he tore the records to shreds before the Senate. Lucius was brought to trial before the Assembly and was convicted of embezzlement; he was saved from punishment by the tribunician veto of Africanus’ son-in-law, Tiberius Sempronius Gracchus. Summoned to trial in his turn, Africanus disrupted the proceedings by inviting and leading the Assembly to the Temple of Jupiter to celebrate the anniversary of Zama. Summoned again, he refused to obey the call, retired to his estate at Liternum, and remained there unmolested till his death. The emergence of such individualism in politics corresponded with the growth of individualism in commerce and morals. The Roman Republic would soon be destroyed by the unfettered energy of its great men.
The redeeming feature of this aristocracy and this age was their awakened appreciation of the beautiful. Contact with Greek culture in Italy, Sicily, and Asia had acquainted the Romans not merely with the appurtenances of luxury but with the highest products of classic art. The conquerors brought back with them world-famous paintings and statues, cups and mirrors of chased metal, costly textiles and furniture. The older generation was shocked by Marcellus’ adornment of Roman squares with the stolen sculptures of Syracuse; they complained not of the robbery, but of the “idleness and vain talk” among once industrious citizens who now stopped to “examine and criticize trifles.”19 Fulvius carried off 1015 statues from Pyrrhus’ collection in Ambracia; Aemilius Paulus filled fifty chariots in his triumph with the art treasures he had taken from Greece as partial payment for liberating her; Sulla, Verres, Nero, and a thousand other Romans were to do likewise through two hundred years. Greece was denuded to clothe the Roman mind.
Overwhelmed with this invasion, Italian art abandoned its native quality and styles and, with one exception, surrendered to Greek artists, themes, and forms. Greek sculptors, painters, and architects, following the line of greatest gold, migrated to Rome and slowly Hellenized the capital of their conquerors. Rich Romans began to build their mansions in the Greek manner around an open court, and to adorn them with Greek columns, statuary, paintings, and furniture. Temples changed more slowly, lest the gods take offense; for them the short cella and high podium of the Tuscan style remained the rule; but as more Olympians were domiciled in Rome it seemed appropriate to design their homes on the slenderer Hellenic scale. In one vital respect, however, Roman art, while still taking hints from Greece, expressed with unique means and power the sturdy Italic soul. For triumphal and decorative monuments, basilicas and aqueducts, the Roman architect replaced the architrave with the arch. In 184 Cato built in stone the Basilica Porcia; five years later Aemilius Paulus gave its first form to that Basilica Aemilia which his descendants would repair and beautify through many generations.II The typical Roman basilica, designed for the transaction of business or law, was a long rectangle divided into nave and aisles by two internal rows of columns, and usually roofed with a coffered barrel vault—a development taken from Alexandria.20 Since the nave was higher than the aisles, a clerestory of pierced stone trellises could be carved above each aisle for the admission of light and air. Here, of course, was the essential interior form of the medieval cathedral. With these vast edifices Rome began to take on that aspect of magnificence and strength which was to distinguish the city even after it ceased to be the capital of the world.
III. THE NEW GODS
How were the old gods faring in this age of reckless change? Apparently a rivulet of unbelief had trickled down from the aristocracy to the crowd; it is hard to understand how a people still faithful to the ancient pantheon could have accepted with such boisterous approval those comedies in which Plautus—with whatever excuse of following Greek models—made fun of Jupiter’s labors with Alcmena, and turned Mercury into a buffoon. Even Cato, so anxious to preserve old forms, marveled at the ability of two augurs to keep from laughing when they met face to face.21 Too long these takers of au
spices had been suborned to political trickery; prodigies and portents had been concocted to mold public opinion, the vote of the people had been annulled by pious humbuggery, and religion had consented to turn exploitation into a sacrament. It was a bad omen that Polybius, after living seventeen years among the highest circles in Rome, could write, about 150 B.C.., as if the Roman religion were merely a tool of government:
The quality in which the Roman commonwealth is most distinctly superior is, in my judgment, the nature of its religion. The very thing that among other nations is an object of reproach—i.e., superstition—is that which maintains the cohesion of the Roman state. These matters are clothed in such pomp, and introduced to such an extent into public and private life, as no other religion can parallel. ... I believe that the government has adopted this course for the sake of the common people. This might not have been necessary had it been possible to form a state composed of wise men; but as every multitude is fickle, full of lawless desires, unreasoned passion, and violent anger, it must be held in by invisible terrors and religious pageantry.22
