Roman Women

by Alfred Brittain

The faults of Mammæa were avarice and her insistence upon dominating over her son after he had attained the years of manhood; and these errors in the end brought about the ruin of herself and Alexander. The people were glad of a respite after the excesses of Caracalla and Elagabalus; but they were not prepared for an empress-regent who spent nothing on entertainments and gave no donations, or for an emperor whose policy was formed on Plato's Republic. Julian, who characterized the Cæsars, represents Alexander Severus sitting sadly on the steps of the hall where the emperors and the gods are banqueting; Silenus mocks at him and at his mother, who hoards her treasure; while Justice consents to chastise his murderers, but has little sympathy for "the poor fool, the great simpleton, who in a corner bewails his misfortune."

Only a strong man who could manage the army as Severus had done could save himself in the Rome of that day. When Maximin, a barbarian of immense personal strength and lifelong military experience, headed a revolt in the army, the soldiers were quite ready to believe that the Empire had long enough been ruled by "a parsimonious woman and a pusillanimous boy." While on an expedition, the emperor endeavored to maintain peace by making presents of gold to the Germans; this, above all things, was displeasing to soldiers who, besides being eager to ply their trade, expected to gain gold by war rather than by it to purchase peace. The emperor was slain in his tent, after reigning thirteen years, and his mother, who had been at all times the real ruler, perished with him.

Alexander had favored the enemies of the ancient gods, and even decided to the advantage of the Christians when there occurred a dispute in regard to some land in Rome which they claimed in opposition to certain innkeepers. "It is better," he said, "that this spot should be occupied by a house of prayer than by a house of debauchery." Mammæa has even been claimed for Christianity; but on her coins she was represented as the beneficent Juno, and at her death the Senate decreed her apotheosis. The end of paganism was not yet. It was to prove its lingering vitality by its fierce and final death struggles under Decius and Diocletian.

From this time there was a quick succession of emperors, most of whom were slain almost as soon as created. The State was becoming constantly more disorganized. Every province desired its own emperor; and down to the time of Diocletian, civil war was almost constant. Morals did not improve, and families took on more and more the appearance of Oriental establishments. We read of one emperor, Carinus, in the course of a few months taking successively no less than nine wives, each of whom was divorced to make room for the next. In his time, the palace was filled with dancers and prostitutes, who were even invited to the imperial table. Though morality suffered in the palace and among the nobility, among the common and middle-class people there was working a leaven which provided a new and more effective argument for the ancient purity of manners.

The status and condition of women underwent no legal change during this period. Their manner of life remained very much the same, for in those days there were no inventions such as in modern times change the whole aspect of social life within fifty years; but all the time there was passing away from among the people that ancient spirit which we now speak of as classic. Art was depreciating; the old religion was living on its past. Imagination was dead, and consequently creation had ceased. Paganism, that had learned to satisfy itself with the black stone of Elagabalus, had no need of art. Statues were still made, temples were frequently built; but there was no original genius. The Christianity of that early time did not favor art. In literature, the educated had also to depend on the past, except as they were satisfied with productions so inferior that nothing save accident can explain their preservation. The old Roman largeness of life was no more, and even the joyousness which had associated itself with some phases of paganism had departed. The twilight preceding the dark ages was deepening; the cycle of history was again falling toward the lowest point of its orbit.

In the Museum of the Capitol, there is one bust of an empress in which it is easy to fancy that one sees typified the spiritlessness of the life of the woman of the period. It is that of the Empress Salonina, the wife of Gallienus. The face is finely featured, but profoundly sad; it reminds one more of a pictured saint of the Middle Ages than of a pagan Roman empress. The hair, parted in the middle, hangs in a plain loop behind; there is none of that gay and frequently bizarre dressing which characterized the heads of the women of a former time. We can account partly for Salonina's sad demeanor. Her husband brought home one Pipa, the fair-haired daughter of a barbarian king; this Pipa he not only made his concubine, but seated her on the throne, beside the empress. Salonina could only console herself with her empty honors, and occupy her mind with researches into the mazy philosophy of the Neo-platonists. It has been thought, on account of a medal bearing her image and the words in pace, that she became a Christian; but, though undoubtedly she was greatly interested in the tenets of Christianity, and though her husband, it may be by her advice, published a decree of toleration in regard to the growing faith, the Church could not have admitted one who built a temple to a pagan goddess and never abjured the practice of the old religion. The countenance of Salonina is a type of the face of the ancient life, out of which the light has departed and which has not yet become illumined by the hope inherent in the new faith.

Religious ideas were now greatly confused. There were many who were not prepared to abandon the old gods and who were yet impressed with the new doctrine. One lady built a chapel in which she burnt incense before statues of Jesus, Pythagoras, Homer, and others. Frequently, in the persecutions, noble women were obliged to offer sacrifices in order to prove to the judges that they were not Christians. In many cases, the historians of the new religion claimed for adherents those who were only tolerant inquirers. Even in those days, the high position which a lady held made the bishops anxious to claim her as an adherent, before her conduct had become conformed to the Christian requirements.

The ancient deities were ready to take their departure, since even those who consistently supported the State religion retained but little faith in them; but Diocletian proved himself not only a firm ruler but also a lover of the old system. His decree ran: "The Christians oppose themselves to the laws of the State, which enjoin the worship of the gods; let them either sacrifice or suffer the penalty." Even the imperial household was to be put to the test, and it is believed that it was with reluctance that the emperor's wife and daughter burned the grains of incense.

In the province governed by Constantius, however, the edict was carried out with great lukewarmness; and soon the son of Constantius sat on the throne of Diocletian, and by his side was the Christian Helena. In this woman we see the transition from paganism to the new religion. Yet there is no clear record of her conversion; there is no mark in her life to indicate that it was in any moral sense created anew. So it was with Roman society. Women intrigued and took part in sensual indulgence and cruel revenge after Constantine had seen the Cross in the sky, just as they had done before. The new doctrine was a leaven which required many centuries to spread; but in the meantime the ancient paganism, with all its grandeur and all its weakness, had disappeared, just as the ancient type of Roman womanhood had given place to a new womanhood of conglomerate nationality, with more privilege but not more character.

In the days of Valentinian, when the pagan worship was definitely prohibited, the orator Symmachus represented the old religion as an aged matron pleading thus for tolerance: "Most excellent princes, fathers of your country, pity and respect my age, which has hitherto flowed in an uninterrupted course of piety. Since I do not repent, permit me to continue in the practice of my ancient rites. Since I am born free, allow me to enjoy my domestic institutions. This religion has reduced the world under my laws. These rites have repelled Hannibal from the city and the Gauls from the Capitol. Were my gray hairs reserved for such intolerable disgrace? I am ignorant of the new system I am required to adopt; but I am well assured that the correction of old age is always an ungrateful and ignominious office."