Aurelian and the Third Century

Alaric Watson

• Publisher: Routledge
• Year: 2004
• ISBN:
  9781134908141
• Edition: 1
• Topic: History
• Subtopic: Ancient History
• Index: History

Aurelian and the Third Century provides a re-evaluation, in the light of recent scholarship, of the difficulties facing the Roman empire in the AD 260s and 270s, concentrating upon the reign of the Emperor Aurelian and his part in summoning them.

With introduction examining the situation in the mid third century, the book is divided into two parts:

* Part 1: deals chronologically with the military and political events of the period from 268 to 276
* Part 2: analyzes the other achievements and events of Aurelian's reign and assesses their importance.

A key supplement to the study of the Roman Empire.

1 INTRODUCTION: The third-century ‘crisis’

Lucius Domitius Aurelianus was born on 9 September in the year 214 or 215. He was a career soldier of humble Balkan origins. He came from a peasant family in the region just south of the Danube, possibly in the vicinity of Serdica, modern Sofia, or somewhat further to the north-west in modern Serbia.¹ Of his background and early life very little can be said with any degree of confidence. His native region was an especially rich source of recruitment, and like a good many of his compatriots Aurelian joined the army. As was customary, he probably did so at about the age of 20, that is around the year 235—the year Severus Alexander, the last of the Severan dynasty, was assassinated. Nothing is known of his career before he emerged from the shadows onto the centre stage of history during the sinister events of the summer of 268. By that time he was already in his early fifties and a senior officer in the central imperial field army. His promotion to that rank clearly indicates that he must have impressed those who commanded him.

As with so many emperors in this period he was both elevated to the purple and then later assassinated by the army. He reigned for just five years, from 270 to 275, but what he accomplished in these few years is quite out of proportion with the brevity of his reign. Among his most important and lasting accomplishments were the reunification of an empire in the process of disintegrating into three distinct and mutually hostile dominions, the construction of defensive walls around the city of Rome against the ever-increasing barbarian menace and the first concerted efforts to halt and put into reverse the disastrous policy of monetary debasement that threatened to undermine the empire’s economy.

Outwardly at least, the Severan age into which Aurelian was born was a time of great prosperity during which the empire reached its greatest geographical extent. The empire of Diocletian and Constantine that followed the troubles of the mid-third century appears very alien to the empire of Aurelian’s childhood. The apparent contrast is partly the product of periodization, an inescapable part of the historian’s technique to simplify and make sense of the world he or she studies, but one that can easily lead astray. The mid-third century has been compared to a dark tunnel separating the comparatively well-illuminated worlds of the Severan age at one end and the age of Diocletian and Constantine at the other.² The lack of reliable information on the period has had two important effects. On the one hand it has, at least until recently, discouraged serious study. In this way the period has effectively been skipped over, thereby foreshortening the tunnel and throwing the periods at either end into even starker contrast. On the other hand, the portrayal of the third century as a Roman Dark Age has inevitably encouraged the attribution of observable changes in the empire to this period about which in fact very little is known. Both of these effects have tended to heighten the sense of catastrophe and to obscure continuity, allowing gradual developments and long-term trends to become easily overlooked.

The phenomenon of the ‘tunnel’ has thus helped to foster the characterization of the age in which Aurelian lived as one in which the Roman world was plunged into a crisis which precipitated the collapse of the classical world and out of which emerged the very different world of late antiquity. The label ‘crisis’ is, however, rather misleading. In trying to make sense of this pivotal period of Roman history it is vital to retain a sense of proportion. In the first place, it is difficult to defend the application of the term ‘crisis’ to a period of half a century or more.³ Second, the term is usually applied genetically, and somewhat indiscriminately, to a number of different developments in the military, political, social and economic spheres, the timings of which do not precisely coincide. A more discriminating approach is called for; one in which the interrelation of the different elements is mapped out and set within the context of the underlying developments in the empire.

POLITICAL INSTABILITY

The Augustan legacy

The most striking aspect of the so-called crisis was the political instability of the period. What Rostovtzeff labelled the ‘Military Anarchy’ traditionally began with the murder of Severus Alexander and lasted exactly fifty years, until the murder of Carinus in 285 left Diocletian in control of the empire. During this half-century, in excess of sixty individuals laid claim to the imperial purple, and all but one or two of these claims were terminated by the sword. Almost invariably, these individuals were put up by the army, or rather by one of the several imperial armies stationed in different parts of the empire, often in opposition to the candidature of another elsewhere. While the rapid turnover of emperors is an indisputable fact, its causes and its significance are more open to debate. In order to approach this problem properly, it is necessary to understand the extent to which political instability was an inherent part of the anomalous system that Augustus bequeathed to the empire.

Due to the Roman aristocratic distaste for monarchy, the position of emperor was never properly institutionalized and the extraordinary power exercised by Augustus continued to remain highly personal and cloaked in deliberate ambiguity. There was, accordingly, no recognized constitutional mode of succession. In order to legitimate his authority, therefore, each new ‘Augustus’ represented himself as the ultimate successor of the first. For all the emphasis which Augustus placed on his role as princeps (‘first citizen’) and Augustus (something more than human, if somewhat short of divine), the symbolic representation of his authority never lost touch with its essentially military origins. Augustus understood, and fully exploited, the ideological nexus linking political authority to the divine sanction implicit in military victory that has come to be known as the ‘theology of victory’.⁴

The subsequent invocation of the Augustan paradigm constantly reinforced the fact that Imperator Caesar Augustus had acquired his personal ascendancy through military victories in a succession of civil wars and had consolidated it by means of an impressive programme of foreign conquests. Already by the reign of Tiberius, the military salutation imperator, by which the armies of Rome traditionally greeted their victorious generals, had become an imperial monopoly and each new emperor dated the official inauguration of his reign (dies imperii) from the moment he was acclaimed imperator by the troops, rather than from when the senate ratified his powers.⁵ To live up to the paradigm, emperors constantly represented themselves as victorious, valuing impressive-sounding victories over long-term strategic planning. More crucially, the Augustan legacy perpetuated the violence and civil war with which the empire had begun. For an emperor to die peacefully in his bed was always the exception rather than the rule, even in the first century. The civil war fought out between multiple contenders in 68–9 dramatically exposed the inherent political insecurity, simultaneously revealing what Tacitus termed a secret of imperial power, namely that emperors could be created elsewhere than in Rome.

In this respect, it is the second century rather than the third which must be regarded as anomalous. This anomaly owes a great deal to the comparative quiescence of Rome’s neighbours and the ease with which the empire continued to dominate them. This could not last. Already by the reign of Marcus Aurelius (161–80) a dramatic and irreversible shift was under way in the relationship between the Roman empire and its neighbours. It soon became apparent that the empire was no longer the predator but the prey.

For most of the first two centuries of the empire it was exceptional for the emperor to assume personal control of the conduct of campaigns. As the external pressures on the frontiers grew and the barbarian incursions became more frequent, more penetrating and more devastating, emperors were increasingly expected not only to provide victories but to preside over them in person on the battlefield. Even before the end of the second century, the avowedly unmartial Marcus was obliged to spend nearly half his reign campaigning on the Danubian front in two arduous and costly wars (in 166–72 and 177–80). The military credentials and leadership qualities of the emperor thus became more critical and the relationship he maintained with the armies, on both a personal and a symbolic level, assumed an even greater significance. From this time, under the growing external military pressures, the soldiers openly took it upon themselves to determine who was capable of assuming this responsibility. In this new military ethos, the inexorable logic of the Augustan legacy ensured an ever greater propensity to civil war.

The underlying political instability resurfaced when Marcus’ son and successor, Commodus, was assassinated on New Year’s Eve, 192. Within a few months his immediate successor, Pertinax, was himself murdered. The praetorian guard, conscious that they could exact a higher price for their loyalty, effectively auctioned the position of emperor. The legions on the frontiers rejected the eventual winner of this shameless bidding, but without agreement as to his replacement. The Roman armies in Britain, on the Danube and in the east each chose to elevate its own general as emperor.

These events ominously demonstrated the escalating price the troops could demand for their loyalty and the growing factionalism and rivalry between the regional imperial armies. The ensuing power struggle was played out over a period of four years. The overall winner was Septimius Severus (193–211), the candidate of the Danubian army. The supremacy of the Danubian army was portentous, in view of the decisive role played by the troops and commanders from this region in the century that followed. On his deathbed, Septimius allegedly admonished his sons to ‘Stand by each other, enrich the soldiers and scorn the rest.’ Whether or not he ever uttered these words, they reflect an ugly truth that both he and his son and successor, Caracalla, understood.⁶

The ‘infernal cycle’

In this new military environment, the emperor’s presence was required wherever the military situation demanded, whether his enemies were internal or external. But he could not be everywhere at once. The sheer size of the empire, and the increasing disruption caused by the deteriorating military and political conditions, limited military communications and hampered the movement of troops and matériel. As the military pressures intensified, the ‘tyranny of distance’ increased the autonomy of the generals stationed on the frontiers.⁷ Wherever the emperor did not personally assume the role of general there was always a chance that the general on the spot, if successful in repelling the invaders, might be encouraged by his troops to assume the role of emperor. The usurper would then march his army against his rival, leaving an inadequate garrison behind to guard the frontier. The barbarians would then take advantage of this weakness. If the local commander managed to defeat them, he often found himself acclaimed emperor in his turn. Thus there arose an ‘infernal cycle’ of civil wars and foreign invasions.⁸

In this context, it is both meaningless and misleading to attempt to divide those who claimed imperial power in the third century into ‘legitimate emperors’ and mere ‘usurpers’ based solely upon the historical accident of whether the claimant ever received the recognition of the senate at Rome. The assumptions underlying such a distinction are anachronistic and misguided. The senate’s recognition never was more than one element in the complex process of imperial legitimation. From the late second century its significance diminished appreciably.

By the third century, the empire had simply become too unmanageable for a single person to be able to rule by himself for any length of time. The dilemma of the necessity for imperial omnipresence resulted in an extension of the well-established idea of shared rule. The elevation of sons to be co-emperors (either merely as Caesars or often as full Augusti) became the norm. Although an important rationale of this co-rulership was to designate the line of succession, it also allowed the imperial college to be in more than one place at once. A number of vain attempts were made to search for a more systematic solution: notably the three-generation arrangement under Valerian in the middle of the century and the Tetrarchic system at its close. The problem remained unresolved in the fourth century and ultimately led to the permanent division of the empire that followed Theodosius.

MILITARY DEVELOPMENTS

Beginning around the time of Aurelian’s birth, a marked shift in the relationship between the Roman empire and its neighbours irrevocably altered both the strategic balance of the empire and the context of imperial power. By mid-century, a number of archaeological clues bear witness to this rising tide of violence and prove it was no longer just the frontier provinces that felt its force: towns and cities shrank within hastily constructed circuit walls; coin hoards were buried but never recovered by their owners. Crucially for the empire, this intensification of the external pressures took place simultaneously on several fronts.

Developments beyond the Euphrates

The most important change took place in the east where, ironically, Rome’s military successes were part of the problem. The expansionist wars of Septimius and Caracalla succeeded in humbling Rome’s old arch-adversary, the Parthian empire, and in greatly extending Roman provincial rule in the region. But Septimius’ annexation of Osrhoene and northern Mesopotamia overextended Roman lines of defence and communication, thereby stretching the military resources and logistical capacity of the empire. Moreover, it upset the regional balance of power, creating unsustainable strategic tensions between the Roman empire and its eastern neighbours which soon proved disastrous for Rome.⁹

The most immediate consequence of these campaigns was the crippling of the Parthian regime, fatally weakening the control which the Parthian rulers exercised over their regional viceroys. One such, Ardashir, the satrap of Persis (Fars), took advantage of this central weakness to strengthen his own power base in southern Iran. Within a decade of Caracalla’s campaign, Ardashir had completely overthrown the old Parthian regime, replacing it with his own Sassanid dynasty and thereby founding a new Persian empire.¹⁰

The appearance of this new and formidable force in the east soon placed an intolerable strain on the military resources of the Roman empire. Since the beginning of the Christian era, Rome had found the Parthian empire an easily containable neighbour and a relatively soft target for sporadic bouts of Roman military aggression. Though not necessarily more bellicose, the Persians were certainly more implacable, better organized and more inclined to take proactive measures to ensure their security and their interests. The defence of the eastern provinces of the empire became a costly exercise for Rome, altering the strategic balance of the empire and draining resources desperately needed elsewhere.¹¹

Rome’s military failures in the east fuelled the empire’s internal political insecurity. The civil wars of 238 provided the opportunity for a spate of foreign raids, including a Persian invasion. The large-scale but ineffectual counter-offensive launched by Gordian III met with disaster at the hands of Ardashir’s son and successor, Shapur I. In 244, Gordian was murdered and succeeded by his praetorian prefect, Philip. Usurpations and civil wars likewise followed in the wake of Shapur’s great invasions of Roman territory in 252–3 and 260. Indeed it is no mere coincidence that the most testing years for the Roman empire in the third century, both in terms of external threat and internal political instability, were almost exactly coextensive with the reign of Shapur I (241–72).

The Danubian frontier and the Gothic menace

Rome would undoubtedly have been better placed to deal with these troubles on the eastern frontier had they not coincided with an appreciable intensification of the external pressures along the length of the European frontier from the Black Sea to the Channel. The rich pickings of the Roman provincial farmlands and ill-defended towns of the frontier regions always presented attractive targets for opportunistic raids. The sporadic incursions of the second century gave way, during Aurelian’s lifetime, to relentless pressure of a wholly different order, often exerted on several fronts at once. The most important factors behind this shift were the large-scale migrations of peoples from northern and eastern Europe and the greater cooperation, and in some instances even confederation, of peoples living beyond the frontier.

Starting at about the turn of the third century, a number of large populations of mostly Germanic peoples who had been migrating steadily south and west came up against and ultimately pressed on into the Roman empire. This massive and eventually irresistible Völkerwanderung placed an intolerable pressure on those peoples already living along the empire’s northern border. The precise details of the reasons for the migrations, the routes they followed and the identity of the migrants are still not perfectly understood. But their impact on the Roman empire arguably provides the most fundamental distinguishing feature of the history of the later Roman empire.

By far the most significant of the new arrivals on the scene were the Goths. This large confederation of east German peoples arrived in the southern Ukraine no later than 230. During the next decade, a large section of them moved down the Black Sea coast and occupied much of the territory north of the lower Danube. This migration displaced the previous inhabitants of the area and in about 240 brought the Goths themselves into direct conflict with Rome. After another decade of intermittent raids, the Goths and their allies launched a full-scale invasion of the Balkan provinces, which resulted in the virtual annihilation of an entire Roman army together with the emperor commanding it. This signalled the beginning of a struggle that was to last for slightly over two decades and was only brought to a close by Aurelian himself. Meanwhile, the East Goths and their allies, who occupied the Crimea, took to the sea and inflicted devastating raids on the unprotected coastline of the Aegean and the Black Sea.¹²

Squeezed between the advancing Goths and the Roman province of Dacia were the Carpi, a free Dacian people who began to cause serious trouble around the time of Aurelian’s birth. Philip defeated them in 247, but was unable to restore the Dacian limes completely, and this continued to weaken until Aurelian’s reign. Further west, the arrival of the Vandals around the turn of the third century increased the pressure on the middle Danube. Throughout the third century, the Vandals themselves and their neighbours, the Sarmatian Iazyges and, still further west, the Suebian Quadi and Marcomanni, repeatedly broke through the Danube frontier. By 260 at the latest, a configuration of Suebian peoples calling themselves Juthungi began to make a devastating impact on the region.

The Rhine frontier and the west

The Rhine frontier suffered in much the same way. Although pressure on the upper Rhine began to mount early in the century, the full impact of the external pressures was generally felt rather later on the Rhine frontier than along the Danube. Nevertheless, when the intensification came, from the mid-250s, it was very marked. Britain, in contrast, appears to have escaped lightly at this time, remaining relatively prosperous and untroubled until roughly the time of Aurelian’s death.

Partially under the impact of pressure from the interior, many of the hitherto independent tribes who had long been living along the Roman border came together to form much larger confederations. Though remaining politically loose, these new confederations p...

Table of contents

• COVER PAGE
• TITLE PAGE
• COPYRIGHT PAGE
• ILLUSTRATIONS
• PREFACE
• ABBREVIATIONS
• DATES
• 1 INTRODUCTION: THE THIRD-CENTURY ‘CRISIS’
• PART I: ‘RESTORER OF THE WORLD’
• PART II: INTERNAL POLICIES
• CONCLUSION
• APPENDIX A: EXCURSION ON SOURCES
• APPENDIX B: PROBLEMS OF CHRONOLOGY
• NOTES
• BIBLIOGRAPHY