Edward Gibbon: "Follies of Elagabalus"
THE HISTORY OF THE DECLINE AND FALL OF THE
ROMAN EMPIRE by Edward Gibbon, Esq.
"Follies of Elagabalus"
(excerpt, Vol. I., Chapter 6)
The empress Julia had experienced all the vicissitudes of fortune.
From an humble station she had been raised to greatness, only to
taste the superior bitterness of an exalted rank. She was doomed
to weep over the death of one of her sons, and over the life of
the other. The cruel fate of Caracalla, though her good sense must
have long taught her to expect it, awakened the feelings of a mother
and of an empress. Notwithstanding the respectful civility expressed
by the usurper towards the widow of Severus, she descended with
a painful struggle into the condition of a subject, and soon withdrew
herself by a voluntary death from the anxious and humiliating
dependence. Julia Maesa, her sister, was ordered to leave the
court and Antioch.[1] She retired to Emesa with an immense fortune,
the fruit of twenty years' favour, accompanied by two daughters,
each of whom was a widow, and each had an only son. Bassianus,
for that was the name of the son of Soaemias, was consecrated to
the honourable ministry of high priest of the Sun; and this holy
vocation, embraced either from prudence or superstition,
contributed to raise the Syrian youth to the empire of Rome.
A numerous body of troops was stationed at Emesa; and, as the
severe discipline of Macrinus had constrained them to pass the
winter encamped, they were eager to revenge the cruelty of such
unaccustomed hardships. The soldiers, who resorted in crowds
to the temple of the Sun, beheld with veneration the elegant dress
and figure of a young Pontiff: they recognised, or thought that
they recognised, the features of Caracalla, whose memory they
now adored. The artful Maesa saw and cherished their rising
partiality, and readily sacrificing her daughter's reputation to
the fortune of her grandson, she insinuated that Bassianus was
the natural son of their murdered sovereign. The sums distributed
by her emissaries with a lavish hand silenced every objection,
and the profusion sufficiently proved the affinity, or at least the
resemblance, of Bassianus with the great original. The young
Antoninus (for he had assumed and polluted that respectable
name) was (A.D. 218, May 16) declared emperor by the
troops of Emesa, asserted his hereditary right, and called aloud
on the armies to follow the standard of a young and liberal prince,
who had taken up arms to revenge his father's death and the
oppression of the military order.[2]
Dion, 1. lxxviii. p. 1330. The abridgement of Xiphilin, though less particular, is in this place clearer than the original.
According to Lampridius (Hist. August. p. 135), Alexander Severus lived twenty-nine years, three months, and seven days. As he was killed March 19, 235, he was born December 12, 205, and was consequently about this time thirteen years old, as his elder cousin might be about seventeen. This computation suits much better the history of the young princes, than that of Herodian (1. v. p. 181), who represents them as three years younger; whilst, by an opposite error of chronology, he lengthens the reign of Elagabalus two years beyond its real duration. For the particulars of the conspiracy, see Dion, 1. lxxviii. p. 1339. Herodian, 1. v. p. 184.
Whilst a conspiracy of women and eunuchs was concerted with
prudence, and conducted with rapid vigour, Macrinus, who, by
a decisive motion, might have crushed his infant enemy, floated
between the opposite extremes of terror and security, which alike
fixed him inactive at Antioch. A spirit of rebellion diffused itself
through all the camps and garrisons of Syria, successive
detachments murdered their officers,[1] and joined the party of the
rebels; and the tardy restitution of military pay and privileges was
imputed to the acknowledged weakness of Macrinus. At length
he marched out of Antioch, to meet the increasing and zealous
army of the young pretender. His own troops seemed to take
the field with faintness and reluctance; but (A.D. 218, June 7),
in the heat of the battle,[2] the Praetorian guards, almost by an
involuntary impulse, asserted the superiority of their valour and
discipline. The rebel ranks were broken; when the mother and
grandmother of the Syrian prince, who, according to their eastern
custom, had attended the army, threw themselves from their
covered chariots, and, by exciting the compassion of the soldiers,
endeavoured to animate their drooping courage. Antoninus
himself, who, in the rest of his life, never acted like a man, in this
important crisis of his fate approved himself a hero, mounted his
horse, and, at the head of his rallied troops, charged sword in
hand among the thickest of the enemy; whilst the eunuch
Gannys, whose occupations had been confined to female cares
and the soft luxury of Asia, displayed the talents of an able and
experienced general. The battle still raged with doubtful violence,
and Macrinus might have obtained the victory, had he not betrayed
his own cause by a shameful and precipitate flight. His cowardice
served only to protract his life a few days, and to stamp deserved
ignominy on his misfortunes. It is scarcely necessary to add, that
his son Diadumenianus was involved in the same fate. As soon
as the stubborn Praetorians could be convinced that they fought
for a prince who had basely deserted them, they surrendered
to the conqueror; the contending parties of the Roman army,
mingling tears of joy and tenderness, united under the banners
of the imagined son of Caracalla, and the East acknowledged
with pleasure the first emperor of Asiatic extraction.
By a most dangerous proclamation of the pretended Antoninus, every soldier who brought in his officer's head, became entitled to his private estate, as well as to his military commission.
Dion, 1. lxxviii. p. 1345. Herodian, 1. v. p. 186. The battle was fought near the village of Immae, about two and twenty miles from Antioch.
The letters of Macrinus had condescended to inform the senate
of the slight disturbance occasioned by an impostor in Syria,
and a decree immediately passed, declaring the rebel and his
family public enemies; with a promise of pardon, however, to
such of his deluded adherents as should merit it by an immediate
return to their duty. During the twenty days that elapsed from
the declaration to the victory of Antoninus (for in so short an
interval was the fate of the Roman world decided), the capital
and the provinces, more especially those of the East, were
distracted with hopes and fears, agitated with tumult, and
stained with a useless effusion of civil blood, since whosoever
of the rivals prevailed in Syria, must reign over the empire. The
specious letters in which the young conqueror announced his
victory to the obedient senate, were filled with professions of
virtue and moderation; the shining examples of Marcus and
Augustus he should ever consider as the great rule of his
administration; and he affected to dwell with pride on the
striking resemblance of his own age and fortunes with those
of Augustus, who in the earliest youth had revenged by a
successful war the murder of his father. By adopting the style
of Marcus Aurelius Antoninus, son of Antoninus and grandson
of Severus, he tacitly asserted his hereditary claim to the empire;
but, by assuming the tribunitian and proconsular powers before
they had been conferred on him by a decree of the senate, he
offended the delicacy of Roman prejudice. This new and
injudicious violation of the constitution was probably dictated
either by the ignorance of his Syrian courtiers, or the fierce
disdain of his military followers.[1]
Dion, 1. lxxix. [c. 4] p. 1353.
As the attention of the new emperor was diverted by the most
trifling amusements, he (A.D. 219) wasted many months in his
luxurious progress from Syria to Italy, passed at Nicomedia his
first winter after his victory, and deferred till the ensuing summer
his triumphal entry into the capital. A faithful picture, however,
which preceded his arrival, and was placed by his immediate
order over the altar of Victory in the senate-house, conveyed
to the Romans the just but unworthy resemblance of his person
and manners. He was drawn in his sacerdotal robes of silk and
gold, after the loose flowing fashion of the Medes and Phoenicians;
his head was covered with a lofty tiara, his numerous collars and
bracelets were adorned with gems of an inestimable value. His
eyebrows were tinged with black, and his cheeks painted with
an artificial red and white.[1] The grave senators confessed with
a sigh, that, after having long experienced the stern tyranny of
their own countrymen, Rome was at length humbled beneath
the effeminate luxury of Oriental despotism.
Dion, 1. lxxix. [c. 14] p. 1363. Herodian, 1. v. [c. 5] p. 189.
The Sun was worshipped at Emesa, under the name of
Elagabalus,[1] and under the form of a black conical stone, which,
as it was universally believed, had fallen from heaven on that
sacred place. To this protecting deity, Antoninus, not without
some reason, ascribed his elevation to the throne. The display
of superstitious gratitude was the only serious business of his
reign. The triumph of the God of Emesa over all the religions
of the earth, was the great object of his zeal and vanity: and
the appellation of Elagabalus (for he presumed as pontiff and
favourite to adopt that sacred name) was dearer to him than
all the titles of Imperial greatness. In a solemn procession
through the streets of Rome, the way was strewed with gold
dust; the black stone, set in precious gems, was placed on a
chariot drawn by six milk-white horses richly caparisoned.
The pious emperor held the reins, and, supported by his
ministers, moved slowly backwards, that he might perpetually
enjoy the felicity of the divine presence. In a magnificent temple
raised on the Palatine Mount, the sacrifices of the god of
Elagabalus were celebrated with every circumstance of cost
and solemnity. The richest wines, the most extraordinary
victims, and the rarest aromatics, were profusely consumed
on his altar. Around the altar a chorus of Syrian damsels
performed their lascivious dances to the sound of barbarian
music, whilst the gravest personages of the state and army,
clothed in long Phoenician tunics, officiated in the meanest
functions, with affected zeal and secret indignation.[2]
This name is derived by the learned from two Syriac words, Ela a God, and Gabal, to form, the forming or plastic God, a proper, and even a happy epithet for the Sun. Wotton's History of Rome, p. 378.
Herodian, 1. v. [c. 5] p. 190.
To this temple, as to the common centre of religious worship,
the Imperial fanatic attempted to remove the Ancilia, the
Palladium,[1] and all the sacred pledges of the faith of Numa.
A crowd of inferior deities attended in various stations the
majesty of the god of Emesa; but his court was still imperfect,
till a female of distinguished rank was admitted to his bed.
Pallas had been first chosen for his comfort; but as it was
dreaded lest her warlike terrors might affright the soft delicacy
of a Syrian deity, the Moon, adored by the Africans under
the name of Astarte, was deemed a more suitable companion
for the Sun. Her image, with the rich offerings of her temple
as a marriage portion, was transported with solemn pomp
from Carthage to Rome, and the day of these mystic nuptials
was a general festival in the capital and throughout the empire.[2]
He broke into the sanctuary of Vesta, and carried away a statue, which he supposed to be the Palladium; but the vestals boasted, that, by a pious fraud, they had imposed a counterfeit image on the profane intruder. Hist. August. p. 103.
Dion, 1. lxxix. [c. 12] p. 1360. Herodian, 1. v. [c. 6] p. 193. The subjects of the empire were obliged to make liberal presents to the new-married couple; and whatever they had promised during the life of Elagabalus, was carefully exacted under the administration of Mamaea.
A rational voluptuary adheres with invariable respect to the
temperate dictates of nature, and improves the gratifications
of sense by social intercourse, endearing connections, and the
soft colouring of taste and the imagination. But Elagabalus
(I speak of the emperor of that name), corrupted by his youth,
his country, and his fortune, abandoned himself to the grossest
pleasures with ungoverned fury, and soon found disgust and
satiety in the midst of his enjoyments. The inflammatory powers
of art were summoned to his aid: the confused multitude of
women, of wines, and of dishes, and the studied variety of
attitudes and sauces, served to revive his languid appetites.
New terms and new inventions in these sciences, the only ones
cultivated and patronised by the monarch,[1] signalised his reign,
and transmitted his infamy to succeeding times. A capricious
prodigality supplied the want of taste and elegance; and whilst
Elagabalus lavished away the treasures of his people in the
wildest extravagance, his own voice and that of his flatterers
applauded a spirit and magnificence unknown to the tameness
of his predecessors. To confound the order of seasons and
climates,[2] to sport with the passions and prejudices of his
subjects, and to subvert every law of nature and decency,
were in the number of his most delicious amusements. A long
train of concubines, and a rapid succession of wives, among
whom was a vestal virgin, ravished by force from her sacred
asylum,[3] were insufficient to satisfy the impotence of his passions.
The master of the Roman world affected to copy the dress and
manners of the female sex, preferred the distaff to the sceptre,
and dishonoured the principal dignities of the empire by
distributing them among his numerous lovers; one of whom
was publicly invested with the title and authority of the
emperor's, or, as he more properly styled himself, of the
empress's husband.[4]
The invention of a new sauce was liberally rewarded; but if it was not relished, the inventor was confined to eat of nothing else, till he had discovered another more agreeable to the Imperial palate. Hist. August. p. 111.
He never would eat sea-fish except at a great distance from the sea; he then would distribute vast quantities of the rarest sorts, brought at an immense expense, to the peasants of the inland country. Hist. August. p. 109.
Dion, 1. lxxix. p. 1358. Herodian, 1. v. p. 192.
Hierocles enjoyed that honour; but he would have been supplanted by one Zoticus, had he not contrived, by a potion, to enervate the powers of his rival, who being found on trial unequal to his reputation, was driven with ignominy from the palace. Dion, 1. lxxix. p. 1363, 1364. A dancer was made praefect of the city, a charioteer praefect of the watch, a barber praefect of the provisions. These three ministers, with many inferior officers, were all recommended, enormitate membrorum. Hist. August. p. 105.
It may seem probable, the vices and follies of Elagabalus have
been adorned by fancy, and blackened by prejudice.[1] Yet
confining ourselves to the public scenes displayed before the
Roman people, and attested by grave and contemporary
historians, their inexpressible infamy surpasses that of any age
or country. The license of an eastern monarch is secluded from
the eye of curiosity by the inaccessible walls of his seraglio. The
sentiments of honour and gallantry have introduced a refinement
of pleasure, a regard for decency, and a respect for public opinion,
into the modern courts of Europe; but the corrupt and opulent
nobles of Rome gratified every vice that could be collected from
the mighty conflux of nations and manners. Secure of impunity,
careless of censure, they lived without restraint in the patient
and humble society of their slaves and parasites. The emperor,
in his turn, viewing every rank of his subjects with the same
contemptuous indifference, asserted without control his sovereign
privilege of lust and luxury.
Even the credulous compiler of his Life in the Augustan History ( p. 111) is inclined to suspect that his vices may have been exaggerated.
The most worthless of mankind are not afraid to condemn in
others the same disorders which they allow in themselves; and
can readily discover some nice difference of age, character, or
station, to justify the partial distinction. The licentious soldiers,
who had raised to the throne the dissolute son of Caracalla,
blushed at their ignominious choice, and turned with disgust
from that monster, to contemplate with pleasure the opening
virtues of his cousin Alexander the son of Mamaea. The crafty
Maesa, sensible that her grandson Elagabalus must inevitably
destroy himself by his own vices, had provided another and
surer support of her family. Embracing a favourable moment
of fondness and devotion, she had persuaded the young emperor
to adopt Alexander, and to invest him (A.D. 221) with the title
of Caesar, that his own divine occupations might be no longer
interrupted by the care of the earth. In the second rank that
amiable prince soon acquired the affections of the public, and
excited the tyrant's jealousy, who resolved to terminate the
dangerous competition, either by corrupting the manners, or by
taking away the life, of his rival. His arts proved unsuccessful;
his vain designs were constantly discovered by his own
loquacious folly, and disappointed by those virtuous and
faithful servants whom the prudence of Mamaea had placed
about the person of her son. In a hasty sally of passion,
Elagabalus resolved to execute by force what he had been
unable to compass by fraud, and by a despotic sentence
degraded his cousin from the rank and honours of Caesar.
The message was received in the senate with silence, and in
the camp with fury. The Praetorian guards swore to protect
Alexander, and to revenge the dishonoured majesty of the
throne. The tears and promises of the trembling Elagabalus,
who only begged them to spare his life, and to leave him in
possession of his beloved Hierocles, diverted their just
indignation; and they contented themselves with empowering
their praefects to watch over the safety of Alexander, and
the conduct of the emperor.[1]
Dion, 1. lxxix. p. 1365. Herodian, 1. v. p. 195-201. Hist. August. p. 105. The last of the three historians [Lampridius] seems to have followed the best authors in his account of the revolution.
It was impossible that such a reconciliation should last, or that
even the mean soul of Elagabalus could hold an empire on such
humiliating terms of dependence. He soon attempted, by a
dangerous experiment, to try the temper of the soldiers. The
report of the death of Alexander, and the natural suspicion that
he had been murdered, inflamed their passions into fury, and
the tempest of the camp could only be appeased by the
presence and authority of the popular youth. Provoked at this
new instance of their affection for his cousin, and their contempt
for his person, the emperor ventured to punish some of the
leaders of the mutiny. His unseasonable severity proved
instantly fatal to his minions, his mother, and himself. Elagabalus
was (A.D. 222, 10 March) massacred by the indignant
Praetorians, his mutilated corpse dragged through the streets
of the city, and thrown into the Tiber. His memory was branded
with eternal infamy by the senate; the justice of whose decree
has been ratified by posterity.[1]
The era of the death of Elagabalus, and of the accession of Alexander, has employed the learning and ingenuity of Pagi, Tillemont, Valsecchi, Vignoli, and Torre bishop of Adria. The question is most assuredly intricate; but I still adhere to the authority of Dion; the truth of whose calculations is undeniable, and the purity of whose text is justified by the agreement of Xiphilin, Zonaras, and Cedrenus. Elagabalus reigned three years, nine months, and four days, from his victory over Macrinus, and was killed March 10, 222. But what shall we reply to the medals, undoubtedly genuine, which reckon the fifth year of his tribunitian power? We shall reply, with the learned Valsecchi, that the usurpation of Macrinus was annihilated, and that the son of Caracalla dated his reign from his father's death. After resolving this great difficulty, the smaller knots of this question may be easily untied, or cut asunder.
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