Pax Romana

by Adrian Goldsworthy

  In the last chapter we saw that the evidence suggests that continued resistance by politically motivated bandits became extremely rare as time passed, and may never have occurred in some provinces. Similar caution is sensible before seeing serious violent crime such as banditry as commonplace. Pliny could cite the single example of the disappearance of Crispus and suspected that the same thing had happened to the equestrian. He did not appear to see such incidents as common – after all, he and many of his correspondents travelled over wide areas and only these two vanished. St Paul and the other early Christian missionaries covered large swathes of the eastern Mediterranean in safety and were not killed by robbers.

  One scholar made a good analogy between the risk of ancient travellers falling prey to bandits and that of the modern motorist or passenger being involved in a road accident. For both the danger is genuine and can be readily imagined as happening to them. In spite of this it is very rare, and the fear of it rarely deters them from travelling. The overwhelming majority of car journeys do not end in an accident, let alone one resulting in serious or fatal injury. In the same way, only a tiny minority of travellers would have brushes with armed robbers and some would escape, while just a handful of householders or guests at an inn would experience a break-in.47

  There is no doubt that armed robbers existed and posed a threat to the wider population, even in the settled provinces far from the frontiers. The authorities, whether at the level of the governor and his officials or local magistrates in cities and other communities, actively sought to deal with the problem, but resources were limited and it was more a matter of control than eradication. Bringing in more manpower, by deploying detachments of troops or raising local militias, could do more in the short term. There are plenty of accounts of famous bandits being captured and executed, often in imaginatively gruesome fashion in the arena as a public display of revenge and warning to others. Yet concentrating on dealing with the problem in one region might do no more than force the criminals to shift their activities somewhere else. On the other hand, breakdown in government and society in general – whether because of civil war, the great epidemics of the second century AD or local famine and disaster – was likely to increase the frequency and scale of banditry as more and more desperate men turned to crime.

  Too often scholars have painted far too bleak a picture of Roman provinces where banditry was inevitably present and widespread. It existed, as it had existed before the Romans arrived, and would reappear when the empire collapsed. It is doubtful that it was routinely any worse under Roman rule, and it is a mistake to see the emperors and their representatives as unconcerned. Propaganda exaggerated the scale of their success in making sea and land safe, but this was not wholly false. In some ways the very prosperity and stability that came under the Principate created new opportunities. People and goods travelled in vastly greater numbers, far more frequently and over greater distances than ever before, so that there were more potential victims for predatory criminals. Yet this commerce and movement of population continued at a very high level, especially in the first and second centuries AD, and was not significantly curbed, let alone stopped, by pirates and bandits. This was just one major difference between life in these countries before and under Roman rule.

  XI

  LIFE UNDER ROMAN RULE

  ‘Although often provoked by you, the only use we have made of our rights as victors has been to impose on you the necessary costs of maintaining peace; for you cannot secure tranquillity among nations without armies, nor maintain armies without pay, nor provide pay without taxes: everything else we have in common. You often command our legions; you rule this and other provinces . . . You enjoy the advantages of the good emperors equally with us . . . In like manner endure the extravagance or greed of your rulers. There will be vices as long as there are men, but these vices are not perpetual and they are compensated for by the coming of better times.’ – Tacitus’ version of the speech made by the legate Cerialis to the Treveri and Lingones, early second century AD.1

  ‘CIVILISATION’ AND ‘ENSLAVEMENT’

  Pliny’s letters and Trajan’s replies depict the government of the empire as benevolent and respectful of local law and tradition, wishing to ensure not only stable rule and peace, but also the welfare of the provincial population. The tone is mirrored in the actions and words of other emperors and their representatives and clearly presents the official view. This was how emperors and governors wished to be seen, and it may even be how some genuinely saw themselves. Outward and formal respect tied the empire together, reconciling senators to being ruled by an emperor, and provincial elites to living under Roman rule. Similar language – usually far more overblown in its enthusiasm – was used by provincials to praise their rulers. Rome’s dominance rested on its overwhelming military might, but even this could be incorporated in the praise of emperors, since the army now served to protect the civilized world.2

  Not only was rebellion rare, it is hard even to find open expression of resentment at the dominance of Rome. Plutarch and Dio Chrysostom both railed at contemporary Greeks for failing to run their own affairs and too readily calling on the Romans to intervene. Their anger was directed at the communities who were unable to regulate themselves and did not truly use the freedom granted to them by the imperial power. Neither man ever tried to rally opinion against Rome, although bad governors and bad emperors were criticised – the latter only after their death. Concern with traditional culture, whether it was rabbis trying to make sense of their religion after the destruction of the Temple, or Greeks revelling in writing about the glories of their pre-Roman past, was not a rejection of imperial rule. The fact of Roman dominance was accepted, but this was not because the empire ruled with so light a hand and through such a tiny body of administrators that it rarely intruded into people’s consciousness, let alone their lives.3

  No one living in the provinces was unaware of Roman rule. Much day-to-day administration was left to local communities, but everyone knew that the governor possessed greater authority than the highest local magistrate or council, that allied kings reigned only with the approval of Rome, and that over governors and monarchs and everyone else stood the power of the emperor. In Matthew’s Gospel, when Jesus was asked whether it ‘is lawful to give tribute unto Caesar or not?’ he asked them to bring him a silver coin. ‘And saith he unto them, Whose is this image and superscription? They say unto him, Caesar’s. Then saith he unto them, Render therefore unto Caesar the things which are Caesar’s; and unto God the things which are God’s.’ Taxes went to the emperor, and his head or other image was on all gold and silver coinage, as well as most of the bronze currency. Even in the most remote rural areas some use was made of hard coin – not least because some taxes were paid in money rather than in kind. Strictly speaking, these taxes went to the Roman state rather than to the emperor, but such fine distinctions understandably meant little to the people forced to pay them.4

  The geographer Strabo told a story to illustrate the poverty of the tiny Greek island of Gyaros. In 29 BC he was on board a ship which anchored off the coast and could see a fishing village.

  When we sailed away we took on board one of the fishermen, who had been chosen to go from there to Caesar (Augustus) as ambassador (Caesar was at Corinth, on his way to celebrate the Triumph after the victory at Actium). While on the voyage he told enquirers that he had been sent as ambassador to request a reduction in their tribute; for, as he said, they were paying one hundred and fifty drachmas when they could only with difficulty pay one hundred.

  The tax of the entire island was substantially less than the annual salary of a Roman legionary, and less than the value of a milk cow recorded in an almost contemporary papyrus document from Egypt. Even so this had to be paid in coin, which meant that the fishermen needed to sell some of their catch for money and not simply use it for their own consumption or in barter for other goods.5

  We do not know whether the ambassador managed to gain an a
udience from Augustus or from someone with delegated authority, so cannot say whether the fishermen’s request was granted. What is striking is the belief that the representative of even so obscure and poor a community could go and wait his turn to be heard by the highest authority and hope for a favourable answer. Hadrian travelled almost as widely as Augustus, and ‘once, when a woman made a request of him as he passed by on a journey, he at first said to her, “I haven’t time,” but afterwards, when she cried out, “Cease, then, being emperor,” he turned about and granted her a hearing’. There was a widespread and deeply rooted expectation that rulers, whether kings or emperors, should be willing to listen and should also be the source of generous benefaction.6

  Most emperors rarely chose to travel to the provinces, especially the more distant ones, whatever their wealth and military importance. In the first century AD, only Augustus and Vespasian visited Syria while they were emperor – and in the case of the latter this was because he was proclaimed as ruler while he was in the east suppressing the Jewish rebellion. Thus the chance to see the emperor in person was granted to few, for it was usually only the wealthy who could afford to travel to Italy and hope to be received. Yet if the rulers themselves were distant figures, their names and images were everywhere. Apart from coins, there were milestones on roads, inscriptions on virtually every public building from bath houses to bridges and aqueducts, and statues, busts, sculptures and paintings. Arrian, a native of Nicomedia but a Roman citizen and senator, was sent by Hadrian to govern Cappadocia as legate. Part of his responsibilities included inspecting the garrisons and ports on the Black Sea coast, checking on the state of their defences and preparedness. At one, he also noticed that a statue of the emperor was poorly executed, and so ordered a better one to replace it.7

  Portraits were idealised, and it might well have proved difficult to recognise the real person from them. Augustus’ image remained eternally youthful, while Claudius’ statues concealed his infirmity. Statues of the same emperor were not all identical, and it is clear that a succession of standard, approved representations were copied just as they were on coin dies. They were recognisably depictions of the current emperor or a predecessor, and at least some people were aware of the details on them. Hadrian was the first to sport a beard, a neater version of the full beards of Greek philosophers, and so encouraged a trend for more men to grow facial hair. The hairstyles shown in images of the women of the imperial household were similarly copied throughout the empire by ladies eager to be fashionable.

  Most official documents were dated by the number of years of tribunician power of the current emperor – a system created by Augustus. In this way an emperor’s name appeared in many contexts, particularly on inscriptions recording an event or the construction or repair of some project. His titles, or at least some of them, were also often included. A very long inscription from the city of Oenoanda in Lycia records the festival of Greek culture and sports set up and paid for by the local aristocrat Demosthenes. It begins by quoting a letter from Hadrian giving his approval for the project. He is ‘the emperor Caesar Trajan Hadrian Augustus, son of the divine Trajan Parthicus and grandson of the divine Nerva Germanicus, Pontifex Maximus, in the eighth year of his tribunician power, consul for the third time’. Praise of the emperor and images of him reappeared time and again during the festival. Many of the western provinces adopted the Roman calendar, imposing a new structure on their year. In the Greek east existing systems continued, but still showed the presence of Rome and the emperor. In Egypt they used a system of dating based on the number of years in the reign of the current ruler or rulers, as they had done under the pharaohs, and the names of emperors slotted into this scheme just as seamlessly as the Macedonian dynasty of the Ptolemies had done. In 9 BC all the cities in Asia adopted a suggestion by a proconsul of the province to modify their calendars so that the year now began on Augustus’ birthday, 23 September, which became the first day of a month called Caesar.8

  Rome and its emperor infiltrated every aspect of public life until it was hard to imagine a world where this was not the case. New cities were founded by them, or old ones refounded – Hadrian’s arch at Athens declared on one side ‘This is Athens, the former city of Theseus’ and on the other ‘This is the city of Hadrian, not of Theseus’. Some cities were named Augusta, Caesarea or Sebaste to honour the princeps. All had monuments to emperors and made regular sacrifices for his health and success, while important communities had shrines or major temples to the cult of Rome and the emperor. These cities were also linked by the immense road network, and those best placed to exploit the transport infrastructure benefited from it.9

  The Romans felt comfortable with the city as an institution, a central place with magistrates and other administrative machinery to administer the lands around it. Where such communities did not exist, they encouraged them to develop or created them. In Julius Caesar’s day there were many towns or oppida in Gaul, usually sited on hills and defended by walls. Under Augustus and his successors these settlements were abandoned in favour of new towns and cities built on the plains in Roman style. At the beginning most of the buildings were made of timber, including the vital forum and basilicas for public business. Over time brick and stone replaced wood, and tiles replaced thatch, and more monuments and amenities were added, such as temples, bath houses, theatres, amphitheatres and occasionally the great circuses designed for chariot races. The pace of change varied, and not all communities could afford such grandeur. There were also regional innovations, such as a dual-purpose theatre cum amphitheatre much favoured in Gaul.10

  Some new cities were colonies of discharged veterans given farms as a reward. A colonia was populated initially by citizens, obeyed Roman law, and they all operated under the same constitutional arrangements which reflected on a smaller scale those of the republic itself. Julius Caesar and Augustus between them settled several hundred thousand former soldiers in these new foundations. Some still preserved the military role of the early colonies, and all were meant to be models of proper city life and to be grand in appearance. Within a decade of its creation, the colony at Camulodunum had a theatre and the great Temple of Claudius, as well as a forum, basilica and meeting house for its council. In the western provinces, favoured communities were granted the status of municipium and each given a constitution set down in Latin and based on principles of Roman law, but their inhabitants were not expected to be Roman citizens. Senior magistrates in such towns were granted the franchise at the end of their year of office.11

  In some provinces, especially in the Hellenic world, cities were already common and here there were far fewer new foundations. There were some colonies, but it was not necessary to give municipal status to other settlements because these already had constitutions and laws of their own. Yet even in the Greek east the city-state was not universal. Egypt was overwhelmingly a land of villages rather than cities, and the Romans did not change this. Galatia and the uplands of what is now Anatolia had scarcely any communities organised in this way, and instead were centred around walled strongholds. The Galatians were descended from three Gallic tribes who had migrated to Asia Minor in the third century BC, and had spent much of the time since then raiding their neighbours, extorting money from them by threatening to raid, and hiring themselves out as mercenary soldiers to the kings of the wider region. They remained powerful even after their defeat at the hands of Manlius Vulso in 189 BC. Much like their kindred in Gaul they did not live in cities, and so the Romans founded these, creating one each as capitals for the three tribes, and so preserving their names. The same practice was followed in Gaul and Britain, giving tribal groups an administrative centre. In most cases it is hard to tell how far the regions drawn up in this way reflected the actual boundaries of the tribes before conquest. In Galatia it looks as if the largest of the tribes, the Trocmi, lost territory, and probably administrative convenience was always the main factor. Egypt already possessed one of the most sophisticated bureaucracies in the an
cient world, so there was no sense in changing its basic organisation.12

  For Greeks and Romans alike, cities were essential for civilisation, but the Roman preference for cities was far more practical than ideological. The new cities in Gaul and Galatia were placed for ease of access and not defence. These communities were meant to offer their inhabitants, and especially the aristocracy, greater comfort and opportunities to compete for prestige in the form of magistracies and priesthoods, and to settle their disputes in the courts rather than by raiding each other. Cnaeus Julius Agricola governed Britain for an unusually long term of more than seven years, a post which provides the main theme of the biography later written by his son-in-law Tacitus. According to him:

  In order that a population scattered and uncivilised, and proportionately ready for war, might be habituated by comfort to peace and quiet, he would exhort individuals, assist communities, to erect temples, market-places, houses: he praised the energetic, rebuked the indolent, and the rivalry for his compliments took the place of coercion. Moreover he began to train the sons of chieftains in a liberal education . . . As a result, the nation which used to reject the Latin language began to aspire to rhetoric: further, the wearing of our dress became a distinction, and the toga was seen everywhere.13