Aphrodisias, a city of the eastern Roman Empire

 

Aphrodisias was a “free city” (i.e. self-governing) on a tributary of the Meander River in south-western Turkey, the remains of which have taught us a great deal about how civic life was lived in the eastern Roman Empire.

The city was named after Aphrodite, the Greek goddess of love, and was founded as a Greek colony during the Hellenistic period (after the death of Alexander the Great which took place in 323 BCE). However, most of the remains that can be seen today date from the city’s time as part of the Roman Empire.

Archaeology has uncovered not only buildings and statues, but also inscribed archives that record the links between Aphrodisias and Rome.

For example, much has been learned about Caius Iulius Zoilos, who began adult life as a slave but was later freed. He appears have done very well for himself and been a major benefactor to the city. Reliefs have been found that show him dressed both as a Greek and a Roman, being crowned by personifications of “manliness” and “honour” to show just how much distinction he had brought to the city.

Although Aphrodisias was self-governing, the cult of the Roman imperial family was still observed by the citizens, as is evident from a temple to Aphrodite approached via a courtyard flanked by two colonnaded buildings that were three storeys high. Porticoes on these buildings portrayed scenes showing the achievements of the Imperial family from Augustus to Nero. One of these shows Claudius subduing Britannia, thus reflecting his successful invasion of Britain in 43 AD.

Wealthy members of the community left money to enable festivals to be held, the details being recorded by a series of inscriptions. One of these bequests, in the late 2^nd century AD, was by Flavius Lysimachus to fund a musical contest. Games were held in his honour in a 4-yearly cycle.

The well-preserved theatre at Aphrodisias was where cultural events would have been held, with more athletic contests taking place in the stadium, where the seating was assigned to different groups of people, such as associations of gardeners and gold-workers, possibly reflecting the contributions that each had made to the building of the facility. The best seats were on the south side of the stadium, where the spectators would have been shaded from the sun by a canopy.

© John Welford

Roman London

 

Roman Britain’s first urban settlement was Colchester, which is today an Essex market town with a population in excess of 100,000 people. However, it was not long before London began to assume a major role and eventually became the capital of the new province.

London, which may have existed as a Celtic settlement before the Romans arrived, was a favoured site for merchants as it was at the lowest possible crossing point on the Thames and an important port.

The revolt by the Iceni under Boudicca in 60 A.D. led to the deaths of tens of thousands of Romanised traders in London, thus demonstrating its importance as a commercial centre at an early date. By around 100 A.D. London had acquired a governor’s palace, a military fort covering 11 acres, and a bridge across the Thames.

When Britannia was subdivided in around 200 A.D. London retained its role as the capital of Britannia Superior. In the fourth century A.D. London’s high status was recognised by being given the title Augusta.

London’s basilica, beneath modern Gracechurch St, was the largest in the Empire north of the Alps. Built on the site of an earlier basilica erected under Emperor Domitian, Emperor Hadrian ordered its massive reconstruction during his visit to Britain in 122 A.D. The new building’s main hall was around 49 feet in length and 115 feet wide. It was refurbished in the third century but demolished at some time during the fourth century.

Although there is very little to be seen today in terms of Roman buildings, one notable exception is the temple to Mithras close to the Mansion House. Built in around 200 A.D., it was about 60 feet long and divided into a nave and two aisles by a row of columns with an apse at one end. Cult images of Minerva, Serapis and Dionysus have been found.

The walls that enclosed Roman London ran for about three miles and enclosed an area of about 330 acres. They formed the base of the mediaeval city walls and still mark the boundary of the City of London, although the street plan within the walls has been changed. During the fourth century the walls were strengthened with projecting polygonal bastions that incorporated tombs.

London’s continuous occupation and importance as a centre for commerce and government has meant that very little remains to be seen of Roman London, and one needs to visit other cities, such as Chester and Bath, to see more extensive examples of the architecture of the period.

© John Welford

Roman Leicestershire

The city of Leicester was an important place in Roman Britain, and the countryside around it was settled by people who became Romanized and contributed to the support of the Roman colony.

There was a Celtic settlement at Leicester before the Romans arrived during the first century AD, this being known as “Caer-leirion” or the camp of the Ligore. The name of the river that flowed past the gravel terrace on which these early settlers had their camp was the Leir, although it is now known as the Soar. The name stuck as “Leicester”, the citadel by the Leir, after the Romans left.

Leicester is situated on the Fosse Way, which was the Roman road that ran almost in a straight line (never deviating by more than six miles) between Exeter (to the south-west) and Lincoln (to the north-east). This road marked the boundary of Roman Britain for a time, before the legions pushed further west, and so linked a string of frontier forts and towns. 

A vital town in this push west and north was Chester, near the wild country of Wales, and the road that linked Chester to the oldest Roman town of Colchester, in the south-east, was the Via Devana. Leicester lies at the crossing point of these two important routes. Other important roads in the vicinity were Watling Street (which still forms the boundary between Leicestershire and Warwickshire) and Ermine Street.

At first, the town established by the invaders would have been no more than an earth embankment within which the soldiers (probably of the 9^th and 14^th Legions) pitched their tents, but this later became a regional capital with all the trappings of a Roman “civitas”.

The name used by the Romans was "Ratae Corieltauvorum", or “Ramparts of the Corieltauvi”, this being the name of the local Celtic tribe.

By the third century, Ratae had stone walls, a forum, a basilica, temples, and a large bath-house. Very little remains to be seen of any of this, apart from the bath-house. On one side of the bath-house site is the so-called “Jewry Wall”, although this never had any connection with a Jewish community in Leicester. In fact, this wall, which is about 70 feet long and 30 feet high, is one of the tallest pieces of free-standing Roman masonry in the country and is useful for understanding Roman building methods.

Next to the wall are the excavated foundations of the bath-house, which are free to visit. Alongside, in the Jewry Wall Museum, can be seen a number of items from the Roman period that have been found by archaeologists both here and throughout the city.

Excavations for modern building developments have revealed another “Jewry Wall”, this being a collapsed stretch of wall that had fallen on top of an even earlier wall.

Country living

Beyond the city, a network of villas worked the land, concentrating on food crops for the city and its garrison, and producing wool for export. The villa owners were probably local people who were descended from the original Celtic inhabitants of the area but who had become Romanized and taken Roman citizenship. The estate workers would have included slaves and peasants who lived in circular huts near the villa.

The word “villa” can give the impression of luxurious living, and indeed some Roman villas, lived in by tribal “kings”, were palatial in their size and furnishings. However, most villas in Leicestershire were relatively modest, being sparsely furnished farmhouses together with their outbuildings. There are some examples of mosaic floors and evidence of wall painting, these dating from the later Roman period when some of the owners had acquired wealth from their trading activities.

The Romans brought knowledge of improved farming methods with them, such as heavy ox-drawn ploughs, as well as introducing food crops that would have been new to the British, such as peas and beans. Many sherds of Roman pottery have been discovered that would have been used as a means of giving better structure to the somewhat heavy clay soils that are typical of the lower-lying parts of the county.

During the “pax Romana” up to the late third century, the wealthier inhabitants of Leicestershire would have enjoyed luxuries from abroad that came their way from being part of a European empire. These included wines from Germany and fish paste from Italy, as well as objects such as ivory carvings and stone figurines that were either of religious significance or purely decorative. This was, generally speaking, a safe time in a safe part of the province of “Flavia Caesariensis”, as “Britannica Secunda” became known.

Leicestershire during the decline of Roman Britain

However, it could not last for ever, and the Roman Empire was on the defensive against various threats from the mid third century onwards. There were upheavals at the heart of the Empire and invasions from outside, particularly the Germanic tribes that included the Angles and Saxons. Being in the centre of England, and therefore a long way from trouble, Leicestershire’s inhabitants were not directly affected, although they would doubtless have been aware of the increased troop movements along the Roman roads that criss-crossed the area.

But in the year 410 AD the situation had become so serious that Emperor Honorius had to write to the Roman cities in England, including Leicester, to tell them that they could no longer count on support from Rome and they were now on their own. They had already lost their permanent garrisons in 383, when general Maximus ordered the soldiers to go to other parts of the Empire where their presence was needed, but now any hope of defence was dashed.

The change in Leicestershire was a gradual one, and the ordinary farmer would have noticed little difference in his daily way of life. Not every Roman left the country, and many retired soldiers would have continued to live in the city of Leicester, or on the farms they had bought on their retirement, having married local women and raised families of their own. Romanized Britons continued to exercise law and order through the institutions set up by the Romans and life would have gone on smoothly enough for most people, for some considerable time.

Leicestershire’s Roman legacy was therefore a positive one, with the patterns of farming, trade and civic life established by the Romans being apparent for many centuries to come.

© John Welford

Did you worship Sol Invictus on Sunday?

Have you ever wondered why people go to Church on Sundays, as opposed to any other day of the week, and why Sunday is a “day of rest” even for those who don’t? We have a semi-pagan Roman Emperor to thank!

Constantine, who ruled as Emperor from 306 to 337, is credited as being the first Christian Emperor, the legend being that he had a vision of Christ during the Battle of the Milvian Bridge in 312 that convinced him that adopting the Christian religion was the key to victory. With victory won and his pagan enemies put to flight, he and his subjects all became overnight Christians.

However, the story is nothing like as straightforward as that. The word that best defines Constantine is “ambiguous”, and it is impossible to be certain where the borders lay between the Christian and the politician within the person of the Emperor. One thing that is definite, however, is that Constantine’s motivation was always based on the furtherance of his power and the safety of the Empire.

For one thing, Constantine never lost his attachment to the worship of Sol Invictus, the “unconquered Sun”. For him, the God of the Christians was either another name for Sol Invictus or a close relative. Even after he adopted Christianity, Constantine’s coins displayed images of Sol Invictus, not Jesus Christ.

On 7^th March 321 Constantine issued a decree that stated: “On the venerable day of the Sun, let the magistrates and people residing in cities rest, and let all workshops be closed”. He did not, however, place restrictions on agricultural work, on the grounds that food production was too important to be interrupted.

There were also political and practical reasons for the choice of Sunday. It was pay day for most workers, and many Christians had already adopted Sunday as their day of worship – although this was far from universal, with Saturday being preferred by Christians in Rome and Alexandria.

Although the Emperor was the most powerful man in the Empire, a wise one always governed – as far as possible - in accordance with the general will of those being governed. The senatorial upper classes, from whom any opposition was most likely to come, were also devotees of Sol Invictus and they were therefore likely to accept a move that recognized the place of their chosen deity alongside that recently adopted by the Emperor. If you rule an Empire can contains both Christians and pagans, and can please both communities, why not do so?

Of course, there were some who objected to the edict and stuck to their previous practice, and even today there are groups such as the Seventh Day Adventists who see the Jewish Sabbath, on Saturday, as being the day laid down in Genesis as the day of rest. However, most Christians see no problem with following the dictate of a Roman Emperor from 1700 years ago. That said, the modern practice of taking two days off as the “weekend” of both Saturday and Sunday does seem to make the debate a somewhat academic one!

© John Welford

Corinth rebuilt by the Romans

The Greek city of Corinth, on the northern shore of the Peloponnese peninsula, west of Athens, was an important trading centre long before the Romans arrived. When they did, in 146 BC, they destroyed the city and left it as a deserted shell.

The revival of Corinth came about as a result of Julius Caesar’s policy of settling retired and discharged legionary veterans in colonies distributed throughout the Empire. The first colonists arrived after Caesar’s assassination in 44 BC and they set about constructing a city very much on Roman lines.

Some Greek elements were retained in the new city, such as the Agora (forum), several stoas (covered walkways) and the Temple of Apollo, but the impression conveyed by what can be seen today is that this was a Roman city that would in time become suitable as the capital of a province, in this case Archaea.

Roman Corinth was very much a commercial centre, with a number of the buildings relating to mercantile activities.

Commerce clearly brought wealth to Corinth, as evidenced by the buildings devoted to leisure and entertainment. The original Greek theatre was converted to accommodate Roman pleasures, such as gladiatorial contests. There was also an odeum – a small theatre designed for musical performances.

Corinth was a religious city, with six temples built to revere the Roman gods during the second century AD. We know that Corinth had a small but active Christian community, from the fact that St Paul wrote two of his best-known epistles to the Corinthian Christians during the mid-first century. Paul is known to have stayed at Corinth for 18 months, during which he worked as a tentmaker and preached.

However, during the third century the fortunes of Corinth went into decline as commercial activity decreased. The Roman city was itself abandoned, with the centre of modern Corinth lying a few miles to the northeast. This has made it possible for extensive archaeological work to be done on the Roman remains, with the result that much has been learned about how a typical colonial capital operated.

A notable feature a few miles away from the Roman city is the Corinth Canal, cut through the narrowest point of the isthmus (four miles wide) to provide easier access to the port of Piraeus. Several projects to build a canal were proposed in classical times but abandoned for various reasons, including the difficulty of cutting down through up to 250 feet of solid limestone.

One attempt was made by the Emperor Nero in 67 AD, when on a visit to the region. He instructed the Praetorian Guard to begin work immediately and joined in by shovelling up a bucketful of dirt and carrying it away on his back. However, he soon lost interest in the idea, which was not revived until long after his assassination in 69 AD. The current canal, which follows the same course that Nero had in mind, was begun in 1881 and completed in 1893.

© John Welford

A dinner with Attila the Hun

Priscus, a 5^th century Romano-Greek diplomat, wrote an account of meeting Attila the Hun that conveys a different impression from the generally accepted view of a bloodthirsty tyrant who brought the Roman Empire to its knees. 

Priscus and Attila

The name Attila the Hun usually conjures up an image of a savage barbarian from central Europe who swept across the Roman Empire during its dying days, leaving death and destruction in his wake. It certainly suited Roman commentators to paint him in the worst possible light, given that he posed a credible threat to the civilised way of life that high-born Romans were used to, but were the unflattering accounts of Attila justified?

One account that gave a somewhat different impression of Attila was that of Priscus, a Greek who lived in the Eastern Roman Empire during the 5^th century (his dates are uncertain, but were probably around 415-475 AD). He was a diplomat, a historian and a philosopher. In the year 448 he and another diplomat, Maximin, were sent by Emperor Theodosius II, based in Constantinople, to negotiate with Attila at his palace in Scythia (present-day Hungary). It appears that Maximin did most of the talking, leaving Priscus free to satisfy his curiosity about this race of people called the Huns who were causing so much trouble to Rome.

Priscus was clearly prepared to be open-minded, despite the evidence that Attila could be a brutal tyrant. He had, for example, had a gold dealer called Constantius crucified in a dispute over a consignment of gold dishes. He was now making similar threats against a dealer in silver plate, and this was one of the reasons for the attempt at diplomacy by Maximin and Priscus.

Attila, who came from nomadic stock, was used to moving around and did not stay long in one place, being the owner of many houses scattered throughout his empire. When Maximin and Priscus arrived in Scythian territory they learned that Attila had moved north, so they had no choice but to follow in his footsteps. When they reached the palace where he was they were surprised to be warmly received and were invited to join Attila and his family for dinner.

Dinner with Attila

Priscus wrote of his surprise at the accommodation that Attila enjoyed. The palace was more like a villa than a castle, and the wooden enclosure that surrounded it was “not so much for protection as for the sake of appearance”. 

The dinner was not being held in honour of the Roman delegation, but they were welcomed and treated with every politeness, although placed at the second level of precedence among the guests. 

Attila reclined on a couch at the head of the room, with family members and guests arrayed on either side. He dressed simply and without wearing any sort of adornment, unlike some of the Scythians who proudly displayed their gold and gems.

The various courses were served according to a fixed ritual, with wine being drunk in the form of toasts to Attila and by Attila to his guests, again according to an order of precedence.

Priscus noted that the guests had silver plates and golden goblets, but Attila only ate and drank from wooden plates and cups. Likewise, although the food on offer was both plentiful and varied, Attila ate nothing but meat. 

After the meal was over there was entertainment in the form of songs and a comic act at which the Scythian guests laughed uproariously but which did not produce as much as a smile on the face of Attila. However, when his youngest son came into the room and sat next to his father, Attila paid him considerable attention and was clearly pleased to have him there.

An open-minded account

A modern reader might get the impression from this account that Attila was cold and emotionless, and therefore somewhat sinister. This does not appear to be how Priscus regarded him, in that his behaviour at the banquet was precisely what might be expected from a refined and high-born Roman or Greek. Priscus was clearly impressed by Attila’s modesty and restraint, which he was happy to record for the benefit of people back home who had previously preferred to believe other accounts.

It is always possible that the behaviour observed by Priscus was the result of Attila deliberately trying to copy Roman customs and manners. He was aware that the Roman Empire, even at this late stage, represented the highest ideals of civilized living and he sought to model his life on the standards that he had observed. Whatever the reason for Attila’s cultured and mannered treatment of his guests, he succeeded in impressing Priscus, whose account is admiring without being overblown. That said, Priscus was never in any doubt that Attila was a dangerous man with ambitions that did not bode well for the future of what was left of the Roman Empire.

© John Welford

Kniva, King of the Goths

Kniva was a King of the Goths during the 3^rd century AD who led his people in an invasion of the Roman Empire and had considerable success while so doing.

In 249 he led a massive force of warriors that appeared at the River Danube frontier of the Empire. One column of men ravaged the province of Dacia while Kniva led another into Moesia. He split this force into two, one of which laid siege to Philippopolis and the other, 70,000 strong, assaulted the legionary fortress and town of Novae in what is now northern Bulgaria.

The Roman general Trebonianus Gallus (who later became Emperor) was able to deflect this assault, which persuaded Kniva to try his luck elsewhere. He therefore turned his attention to Nicopolis, which was further south. This move attracted the attention of Emperor Decius who, accompanied by his son Herennius, promptly led an army towards the Danube. Kniva’s force suffered a resounding defeat at Nicopolis and he had no choice but to retreat over the Haemus Mountains and seek to rejoin his troops at Philippopolis.

Kniva was then able to turn the tables on Decius by launching a surprise attack at the small town of Beroca on the edge of the Haemus Mountains. The Roman legions fled in disarray and Kniva was able to press on towards Philippopolis.

Kniva was now helped by the Roman governor of Thrace, T Julius Priscus, who had imperial ambitions of his own and thought he saw a way of getting the better of Decius. However, his assistance to Kniva in the capture of Philippopolis was not rewarded – he was among the thousands of victims of the bloodbath that ensued as Kniva pillaged the cities of Thrace.

By the spring of 251 Decius was ready to launch a further campaign against Kniva. Things went well at first for the Romans, but Kniva set a trap for Decius at Abrittus, midway between the Danube and the Black Sea, in June 251. The ensuing battle was a total victory for the Goths and both Decius and his son were killed.

Kniva was now able to negotiate terms with the new emperor, Trebonianus Gallus, that were highly favourable to the Goths. They were now firmly established in the Black Sea provinces and were able, in 253, to demand more payments of tribute to prevent them from making further intrusions into the empire.

The eventual fate of Kniva has never been made clear, although one can probably assume that he ended his days comfortably enough after leading his people into a corner of the Roman Empire from which they would be hard to shift. 

© John Welford

Theodosius II, Emperor of Rome

Theodosius II, who ruled the Eastern Roman Empire, did so for 42 years, which made him the longest ruling emperor throughout the Empire’s history.

Theodosius was born in April 401, the son of Emperor Arcadius and his formidable wife Aelia Eudoxia, who had been the real power behind the throne and had even had herself declared Augusta.

However, Eudoxia died from a miscarriage when Theodosius was aged only three and his father died in 408, meaning that parentless Theodosius became emperor at the age of seven. This might have been thought a recipe for chaos but that was not to be, thanks to efforts of Anthemius, the Praetorian Prefect, who proved to be an extremely able administrator.

One of Anthemius’s lasting contributions was to strengthen the defences of Constantinople by building a substantial wall across the peninsula on which the city was built. This wall served to protect Constantinople from invasion for the next 800 years and portions of it have survived to the present day.

Theodosius had an older sister, Aelia Pulcheria, who was proclaimed regent in 414, despite being only 15 years old, and she promptly had Anthemius replaced due to her personal dislike of him.

Pulcheria refused to marry but became intensely religious. It was due to her that the Church adopted the cult of the Virgin Mary, but she was also responsible for anti-semitic acts such as the burning of synagogues. Her influence on her brother meant that the empire and the Church became inextricably linked.

Theodosius married Aelia Eudocia in 421, she being Pulcheria’s choice for his bride, but the two strong-willed women soon became rivals. The palace intrigues were encouraged by the ambitious eunuch and chamberlain Chrysaphius Zstommas, with the result that Pulcheria was forced to retire from public life, leaving Eudocia as the main influence on Theodosius.

However, Zstommas’s attention then turned towards Eudocia, who was eventually forced into exile in 441 after a charge of adultery was brought against her. She ended her days in Jerusalem. Zstommas was now the most powerful adviser at court.

But what of Theodosius himself, who seems to have taken a back seat in the affairs of state? The truth is that he much prefered to deal with matters of the intellect, such as founding a university in Constantinople and codifying the laws. The latter effort led to the Codex Theodosianus, completed in 438, comprising 16 books of decrees and enactments that preserved the nature of Roman law.

Theodosius did have to deal with foreign affairs eventually, for example by negotiating a peace treaty with the Persian Empire that stayed in effect for more than a century. He was less successful when keeping the Huns at bay, with the initial policy – promoted by Zstommas – being to buy them off with huge subsidies that nearly bankrupted the treasury. Towards the end of Theodosius’s reign much of the Danube region was ravaged by barbarians, led by the formidable Attila.

Relations between the two halves of the empire improved with the placing of Valentinian III (son of Honorius) on the western throne in 425. Theodosius travelled to Ravenna to crown Valentinian and in 437 he gave his daughter Licinia Eudoxia to Valentinian as his wife.

Zstommas`s failed policy of buying off the Huns at vast expense led to a revolt by the army generals, who overthrew him early in 450, with Pulcheria returning to a position of power.

Theodosius died in July 450 after falling from his horse. He had already stated that a general named Marcian was his preferred heir and, in order to retain her position, Pulcheria promptly married him while still maintaining her vow of chastity. 

© John Welford

Valentinian I, Emperor of Rome

The reign of Valentinian I marked a new stage in the decline of the Roman Empire, namely one in which emperors reigned but did not necessarily rule. Power was staring to ebb away from the person who was nominally in charge and towards the civil servants and officials who were increasingly making the important decisions.

Valentinian was born in 321 in what is now Croatia. Like his predecessor Jovian, he was a middle ranking army officer who was unexpectedly chosen to be Emperor. In Valentinian’s case this happened when Jovian was found dead in bed one morning, possibly poisoned by fumes from an ill-ventilated coal fire.

Valentinian was by no means the first choice of the general staff, who spent around a week mulling over several candidates before making the decision and offering him the job. It was not long before Valentinian realized that this was such a huge responsibility that he could not take it on alone and asked for his younger brother Valens to be made co-emperor alongside him, which was agreed, with Valentinian being in charge of the western empire and Valens of the eastern half.

Real power at this period of the empire’s history belonged to local bureaucrats, so that emperors were obliged to negotiate with various power structures that pretended to act as representatives of central government. The last thing that these local rulers wanted was effective imperial interference, and Valentinian and Valens were just the men who fitted the bill from their point of view.

Not surprisingly, this sort of hands-off rule allowed corruption to flourish at a local level, given that officials knew that they were unlikely to be held to account for activities that feathered their own nests.

One such example arose in North Africa at the start of Valentinian’s reign when Romanus, a long-serving military commander, refused to come to the aid of a city that was under attack because the inhabitants would not pay the huge bribe that he demanded from them. Romanus was able to get away with it and escape justice for the whole of Valentinian’s 11-year reign.

Evidence of where power really resided – i.e. not with the emperor – came when Valentinian fell seriously ill in 367 and the question arose of who might succeed him should he die. Two factions within the imperial court debated the matter between themselves without consulting either Valentinian or Valens.

In earlier times that would have been regarded as treasonous conspiracy and heads would certainly have rolled when – as indeed happened – the emperor recovered his health and learned what had been going on. However, nobody was punished. The net result was that Valentinian felt constrained to name a successor, who was his son Gratian, then aged 8.

Valentinian’s main problem was in dealing with barbarian revolts and incursions. In Britain there was trouble from tribes north of Hadrian’s Wall – aided by the Scotti from Ireland – and in the south the Romans had to deal with warlike Saxons and Franks. These proved to be relatively minor problems that local commanders were able to solve without too much difficulty.

Greater threats were posed by tribes in the Danube region, notably the Alemanni, Sarmatians and Quadi, and Valentinian met his end in dealing with the third of these tribes, although not on the battlefield. In 375 a delegation from the Quadi sued for peace in a face-to-face meeting with the emperor. The complaints they made about Roman behaviour annoyed Valentinian to the extent that he flew into a violent rage that led to a fatal stroke.

Valentinian’s brother Valens was still ruling over the eastern empire, where he had plenty of problems of his own to contend with. Valentinian’s son Gratian, now aged 16, was just about old enough to take up the reins of power in the west, but he found himself having to share them with an even less likely candidate for the job, namely Valentinian’s other son, by his second wife, who was also named Valentinian but had only reached the age of five!

© John Welford

Trebonianus Gallus and Aemilianus, Emperors of Rome

The years 251 to 253 have been reckoned as among the worst in the whole of Roman imperial history. This was a time of utter chaos, when major cities were sacked by invading tribes, armies were destroyed, and emperors came and went with considerable rapidity.

This article concerns two such emperors, of whom relatively little can be said because they emerged from nowhere and played only minor roles in the story of Rome’s sorry decline.

Trebonianus Gallus

Emperor Decius was killed at the Battle of Abrittus in June 251, the enemy being an invading army of Goths. He had previously indicated that his preferred successor was Publius Licinius Valerianus, but it was Gaius Vibius Trebonianus Gallus who was declared emperor when the time came.

Born in about the year 206, of aristocratic stock, Trebonianus Gallus had been governor of the province of Moesia Superior, which was one of the provinces being threatened by the Goths. He appears to have been a loyal and trusted follower of Decius, and a perfectly suitable successor. Valerianus (usually known as Valerian) seems to have accepted the situation and not to have been anxious to challenge Gallus for the throne. Given the track record of emperors of the time – in terms of short reigns and violent deaths – this was understandable.

The first act of Gallus as emperor was to conclude a peace treaty with the Goths. His second was to adopt the younger son of Decius to rule jointly with him, but this plan fell through when the young man died of the plague soon afterwards. Gallus then appointed his own son, Volusianus, to fill this position.

Trebonianus Gallus’s short reign was marked by a continuation of Decius’s persecution of the Christians, although this was not pursued with any great energy and consisted of expulsions rather than executions, and further efforts to defend the empire from barbarian incursions, which was by far the more pressing problem.

The troublesome tribes included the Franks and the Alemanni, the latter of whom managed to cross the Rhine and pillage as far as Spain before heading for home. In 252 the Goths claimed that the Romans had not fulfilled their side of the peace treaty and resumed their attacks in Greece and Asia Minor. They launched seaborne attacks from the Black Sea, burst through the Dardanelles and sacked a number of cities around the Aegean, including Ephesus.

The Sassanids also made a reappearance, with Shapur advancing up the Euphrates and crushing a Roman army at Barbalissos (northern Syria) in 253.

Rome and its emperor were in deep trouble.

Aemilianus

Marcus Aemilius Aemilianus was born in around 207, probably in Libya and of Moorish stock. As a general he had a measure of success in countering the Gothic incursions in the Danube region, and was considered by his troops to be a better bet than Trebonianus Gallus. They therefore declared him to be emperor and he set out towards Italy to stake his claim.

Gallus called on Valerian, who was commanding troops on the Rhine, to come to his aid, but he was too late. Gallus was killed by his own troops in August 253 before Valerian arrived.

Aemilianus may now have thought that he was home and dry, as long as he could see off the army led by Valerian when it turned up. However, the troops that had acclaimed him on the Danube had second thoughts now that they were in Italy. Valerian looked to be a much more acceptable prospect as emperor, and he was also likely to be approved by the Senate, which was not the case with Aemilianus.

Aemilianus therefore suffered the same fate as Trebonianus Gallus, just one month later.

© John Welford

The Tetrarchy from Diocletian to Constantine: Emperors of Rome

Emperor Diocletian decided to retire in April 305, assuming that the system for sharing imperial authority that he had set up would continue along the same lines. However, things did not run as smoothly as he had hoped.

Diocletian had split the empire into twelve “dioceses”, with each of four “tetrarchs” running three of them apiece. He and Maximian were the two senior tetrarchs, with Constantius and Galerius being subservient to them. Diocletian’s plan was for Maximian and himself to retire at the same time, with Constantius and Galerius moving up to fill the senior positions (“Augusti”) and two new men being appointed to be junior emperors (“Caesares”).

The original thought had been that the sons of Constantius and Maximian, namely Constantine and Maxentius respectively, would be the new Caesars, but Diocletian changed his mind on this. He subsequently announced that the new junior emperors-in-waiting would be a general named Flavius Valerius Severus and Maximinus Daia, who was a nephew of Galerius.

The problem was that not all the new men who took office on 1^st May 305 were content with what Diocletian had decreed. In particular, Constantius was annoyed that his son Constantine had been excluded from the succession.

It was not long before this source of dissent turned from being a potential problem to an actual one. Constantius was responsible for Britain and it was while he was in Britain in July 306 that he died at Eboracum (York). The army, presumably following the expressed wish of Constantius, declared Constantine to be the new emperor.

Meanwhile Maxentius, who was the other man to lose out when Diocletian changed his mind about the succession, refused to let matters lie and claimed the position that Diocletian had assigned to Severus. His father Maximian gave him his support, which was essential in deciding the issue because the army, which had served under Maximian, refused to back Severus who was imprisoned and eventually killed.

In 307 Galerius invaded Italy, hoping to defeat Maxentius and restore the arrangement that Diocletian had decreed. Constantine refused to take sides and Rome, protected by the walls erected 30 years previously by Aurelian and Probus, proved to be capable of withstanding a siege. Galerius had no choice but to withdraw.

On the other hand, Galerius did have a powerful friend to call upon for help, namely Diocletian who was quietly growing cabbages on his estate at Split (in modern Croatia). A conference was called in 308 at Carnuntum (in modern Austria), under the chairmanship of Diocletian, at which it was agreed that Constantine could continue to rule the regions he already controlled and Galerius would continue as the other senior emperor. A new junior emperor was appointed to replace Severus, this being a general named Licinius.

With civil war avoided, Diocletian went back to his vegetables and Galerius was happy to be recognized as the most powerful person in the empire. Unfortunately for him, he only lived to enjoy this status for another three years, dying of natural causes (a very nasty case of bowel cancer) in May 311.

The surviving emperors, who now all regarded themselves as Augusti rather than Caesares, then divided into two factions, Maximinus allying himself with Maxentius and Constantine with Licinius. One result of Diocletian’s reforms had been that the army, as well as the government, had split into what were virtually independent camps that were loyal to one or other of the tetrarchs. The result was that each of the four men controlled roughly equal forces, so any power struggle was likely to result in a highly destructive civil war.

In the event, the struggle boiled down to a contest between Constantine and Maxentius. Constantine was a strange character who exhibited a range of personality traits, one of which was a deep belief in divine intervention. The question was, which god to trust? He had long been a devotee of Sol Invictus – also known as Elagabal, the Syrian sun god who had originally been introduced to Rome by Elagabalus and then re-introduced by Aurelian. Constantine now decided to place his trust in the Christian god.

The story of Constantine’s conversion has become a legend, not least because of the profound implication it would have for the growth of Christianity as well as the later history of the Roman Empire. The truth of what happened is less easy to ascertain. However, the fact remains that Constantine was able to defeat Maxentius, and he ascribed his victory to what he termed the “Divine Mind”.

After the final battle with Maxentius at the Milvian Bridge on 28^th October 313, at which Maxentius was killed, Constantine was clearly the most dominant figure in Roman politics, and the Tetrarchy, such as it now was, was no longer a government by equal parties. 

© John Welford