Hadrian and the Triumph of Rome (32 page)

The emperor and his entourage entered the city’s original central square, the Forum Romanum, and from there ascended the winding road to the summit of the Capitol, where stood the enormous temple of Jupiter Optimus Maximus. A sacrifice was offered in thanks for his safe return to Rome and to mark his assumption of the purple.

The ancient priestly association, the Arvals, met on the Capitol on the same day to mark the happy “arrival of Imperator Caesar Traianus Hadrianus Augustus”; in what must have been a lengthy and messy ceremony, they sacrificed an ox to Jupiter; a cow each to Minerva, the “Public Safety of the Roman People,” “Victory,” and Vesta, protectress of the city’s undying flame; and a bull to Mars. The
princeps
was a new member of the priesthood ex officio, but as a rule he sent his apologies. On this occasion, Hadrian decided to put in an appearance. He was determined to please, and made himself available to everybody.

Hadrian’s task was to relaunch his reign. The consuls convened the Senate, probably as early as the next day after his return. The mood on its benches must have been all the more gloomy for the fact that senators
themselves had colluded in the deaths of the four ex-consuls. Many could recall the not-so-distant time when Domitian had insisted on their active cooperation when he struck down the final list of Stoic idealists.

The emperor was extremely sensitive to the comments that people were making about his behavior. For him the lesson of Domitian’s end was that he had to avoid the vortex of violence and lost trust if he wanted to survive and thrive. Hadrian’s reign had opened with violence, and it was essential that he break away from the potentially dire consequences and establish a reputation as a man of peace and legality.

He addressed the Senate as if he were making a speech for the defense at a trial, and declared on oath that he had not ordered the deaths of the four former consuls (later he repeated the denial in his autobiography). He also swore that he would never put a senator to death without the Senate’s approval. In this he followed similar assurances given by Trajan and Nerva, and while these were welcome they did not mean very much, for history showed that the Senate routinely bowed to the wishes of an angry
princeps
. His listeners doubtless reserved judgment on the emperor’s guilt, but will surely have attended to the passion with which he asserted his good intentions. Time would reveal whether these would translate convincingly into performance. (Somewhat cheekily, next year the emperor issued a coin boasting of his mercifulness: it showed Clemency, personified as a woman sacrificing at an altar.)

No one would begin to believe the emperor’s assurance unless something was done about the man he was fingering as the real culprit—the elderly Attianus. The
Historia Augusta
has an odd tale that a murderous Hadrian wanted to do away with his former guardian because he was “unable to endure his power” and was deterred only by his existing notoriety as an executioner. There seems to have been a quarrel, and we can imagine the
princeps
losing his temper—but surely nothing more.

Praetorian prefects held their job for an indefinite period. Emperors fought shy of dismissing them out of hand for fear of trouble from the Guard. With some difficulty Attianus was persuaded to resign his post as prefect. Only an
eques
, he was given the signal honor of
ornamenta consularia—
these were the appurtenances of the consulship, without the
post itself. He was not allowed to attend the Senate, but was entitled to sit with former consuls at public banquets and to wear a consul’s richly embroidered
toga praetexta
on such occasions. Attianus was kicked upstairs.

Attianus’ colleague as prefect was also an old man and sought permission to retire. It is a sign that the emperor was short of experienced and trustworthy talent that he refused to accept the resignation immediately. And who was to replace Attianus? The all-competent Turbo, who in little more than one year had ricocheted around the empire from Parthia, to Egypt, to Mauretania, to Pannonia and Dacia, was a wise choice and he now crowned his career with the top government job to which an
eques
could aspire.

Hadrian introduced a range of reforms designed to boost his popularity. The headline measure was breathtaking—nothing less than a cancellation of all unpaid debts owed by individual citizens to the public treasury
(fiscus
or
aerarium publicum)
and, according to Dio Cassius, to the privy purse
(fiscus privatus)
. The period covered was the previous fifteen years.

The announcement was marked by a striking piece of street theater. In the great square of Trajan’s forum all the relevant tax documents were assembled and publicly burned, to make it clear that this was a decision that could not be revoked. (Hadrian may have got the idea for the incineration from Augustus, for Suetonius records that in 36
B.C
. he had “burned the records of old debts to the treasury, which were by far the most frequent source of blackmail.”)

Public opinion was enthusiastic and a celebratory monument was erected on the site of the pyre. The inscription has survived, praising Hadrian,

A carved relief shows the scene when Praetorian Guards entered the forum carrying wax tablets from the treasury archives. To spread the
good news around the world a coin was issued showing a
lictor
setting fire to a pile of bonds in the presence of three taxpayers.

One of the most irritating burdens on local authorities in Italy and elsewhere was the cost of maintaining the government courier service, the
cursus publicus
, where it ran on main roads through their territories. They were obliged to pay for the horses, carriages, and privately owned hotels and hostels that those traveling on official business needed. The
fiscus
now took over financial responsibility for the service.

The “crown gold” was waived for Italy and reduced for the provinces; this was a contribution offered to a new emperor, in theory voluntary and in practice compulsory, to the cost of gold wreaths (in imitation of laurel) for grand imperial events such as triumphs.

A supplementary distribution of free and subsidized grain for citizens living in Rome was made, despite the fact that a generous donative of three aurei (that is, gold pieces worth seventy-five sesterces in total) had already been granted before the emperor’s return.

The Italian countryside also benefited from the general largesse. The
alimenta
scheme had been close to Trajan’s heart, and, as a gesture to the memory of his adoptive father, Hadrian increased its state funding.

It was essential to offer sweeteners that directly benefited the disaffected senatorial class. Existing rules set the minimum wealth a man had to possess if he wished to enter public life at the highest level at 1 million sesterces. Sometimes senators found themselves in financial difficulties; now Hadrian supplemented their income with an allowance, provided they could show that they were impoverished through no fault of their own.

Public office was expensive, for a consul or a praetor faced a number of necessary expenses (for example, the salaries of his
lictors)
and he was expected to demonstrate his
liberalitas
as a patron. The emperor made gifts of money to many needy officials—in effect, salaries.

Ever since the Proscriptions launched by the young Octavian (before his elevation to the title of Augustus) and Mark Antony in 43
B.C
., rulers short of cash tended to execute opponents ostensibly for political or criminal offenses but in fact to confiscate their lands and wealth. Hadrian was determined to avoid that charge in the case of the four former
consuls, so he passed a law assigning the property of condemned persons not to the privy purse but to the
state fiscus
. In this way he could demonstrate that the emperor was gaining no private advantage from their deaths.

Hadrian had implemented the first part of Juvenal’s gloomy slogan “bread and circuses” by providing cash and grain. It was now time for blood to flow in the arena. To mark his forty-third birthday, January 24, 119, six successive days of gladiatorial games were held; many wild animals were slaughtered too, including one hundred lions and one hundred lionesses. Large numbers of little wooden balls were thrown into the audience: the names of various gifts were written on them—items of food, say, clothing, silver or gold articles, horses, cattle, and slaves—which could be claimed when presenting them later.

The package of reforms succeeded: it was well received and stabilized the new regime. Even if members of the elite were reserving judgment, there was no talk of outright opposition or even noncooperation. Despite a shaky start Hadrian had demonstrated his competence, both militarily and domestically. The empire was quiet and in the Senate no one now had any doubt who was in charge. From managing immediate challenges, the emperor could now take his time and plan a strategy for the longer term.

Hadrian was a man who knew his own mind and was impatient of inefficiency in others, but he also had a disarming talent for admiration. He learned much about the art of government from Trajan, but the true hero among his predecessors was Augustus.

We learn from the Arvals that when the emperor wrote to them in February 118 proposing a co-opted member of the association, “the waxed tablets, fastened with a seal showing the head of Augustus, were opened.” For the image on Hadrian’s signet ring to have been that of the first
princeps
was an elegantly simple way of acknowledging indebtedness to everyone throughout the empire who mattered. Later, he asked the Senate for permission to hang an ornamental shield, preferably of silver, in Augustus’ honor in the Senate.

Ten years into his reign, Hadrian announced to the world that, speaking
symbolically, he was a reincarnation of Augustus. He issued a high-value silver coin, a tetradrachm (worth twelve sesterces), with Augustus’ head on one side, and on the other an image of himself holding corn ears, signifying prosperity, with the legend
Hadrianus Augustus Pater Patriae Renatus—
“Father of his People, Reborn.”

When appointing the heads of his secretariat he chose an
eques
, the biographer Suetonius, to be his
ab epistulis
, the official secretary, who controlled the emperor’s correspondence and as such was one of the most influential people at court. A bookish protégé and friend of Pliny, he had made a name for himself ten years or so previously for his
De Viribus Illustribus
, “On Famous Men,” a copious collection of brief lives of literary celebrities—grammarians, rhetoricians, poets, and historians.

Suetonius was now working on what was to be his masterpiece,
De Vita Caesarum
, “The Lives of the Caesars.” In the biography of Augustus, he writes of an unusual
cognomen
his subject was given as a boy, Thurinus—an allusion to the town of Thurii in southern Italy where his father’s family had originated and where his father had won a battle.

What was it that Hadrian valued so highly in his predecessor? Not least the conduct of his daily life. Augustus lived with conscious simplicity and so far as he could avoided open displays of his preeminence. A passage from Suetonius is almost echoed by another from the
Historia Augusta
. About Augustus the former observed:

As for Hadrian, according to the
Historia Augusta
,

Both Augustus and Hadrian made a point of being
civiles principes
, polite autocrats.

It was not enough to placate the upper classes; it was also important to keep happy Rome’s urban masses. Audiences at the games were infuriated if an emperor in his imperial box was inattentive and worked on his papers. Nor did they appreciate arrogant behavior on his part. Whenever Augustus was present, he took care to give his entire attention to the gladiatorial displays, animal hunts, and the rest of the bloodthirsty rigmarole. Hadrian followed suit.

He once nearly made a dangerous faux pas. The crowd was baying loudly for some favor or other, which he was unwilling to grant. He ordered the herald to call for silence. This had been Domitian’s autocratic way, and the astute herald merely lifted his arm, without uttering a word. The shouting died down. The herald then announced: “That is what he wants.” The emperor was not in the least put out, for he realized that by refusing to issue the tactless verbal order the herald had saved him from an odious comparison.

Augustus well understood that to hold power it was not necessary to
show
that one was holding power; in fact, it could be positively damaging to do so. While he was consolidating his authority in the 20s
B.C
. he held the consulship for eight years in a row. The post no longer commanded executive
imperium
as it had under the Republic, but it remained a great honor. For an emperor to treat it as if it were a permanent office was felt to be insulting, as well as being unnecessary. It also reduced by 50 percent the chance for a senatorial aspirant to become consul
ordinarius
and have “their year” named after him and his colleague. So from
23
B.C
. the
princeps
more or less gave up the consulship, with only two more tenures during the rest of a long life.