But by placing the making of the law in the hands of the jurists, men who were thinkers and scholars and under the influence of the spreading Stoic philosophy, many disciples of Zeno and Chrysippus, and some later to be under the influence of the Christian philosophy, Hadrian was laying a broad foundation for the complete passing of the Roman idea of the unimportance of the child as a child, and making way for the Christian idea which was to take its place.
By a senatus consultum, passed before the Edict of Julianus, the right of fathers to expose their children was for the first time taken away; durante matrimonio they were compelled to rear their children instead of exposing them, while later regulations made it necessary to maintain even those children born after divorce.[355]
This was the first attempt to prohibit the exposing of children.
As we have seen, the right of the father to reject his offspring was restricted in earliest times to weak and deformed children, and then only after there had been a conference with five neighbours, but the frequent reference to the exposure of children under the Republic and under the emperors indicates that there was little regard for this legal restraint. Even Augustus himself did not hesitate to expose the child of his granddaughter.
The law of Hadrian has not been placed by scholars and commentators as the first law against exposing children, partly no doubt because it was too new to be really effective. In an interesting controversy[356] between Gerardus Noodt and Cornelius Van Binkershoek, as to whether there were any prohibitory laws prior to those of Valentinian, Valens, and Gratian (367 A. D.), Binkershoek maintains with great show of authority, what is undoubtedly true, that there were. Interesting, too, is the fact that we find in the Code of Justinian (vii., 16, 1) reference to a rescript of Hadrian in which the sale of children is referred to as “res illicita et inhonesta,” which is assumed by Walker to refer to the sales not being properly conducted,[357] but which, judging from the temper of the Emperor, referred to the thing itself.
As the war-loving Trajan was succeeded by the lover of peace, the nomadic Hadrian was succeeded by the home-loving Antoninus Pius, who did not leave Rome for almost a quarter of a century, except for one rapid tour through Asia. He made it possible for children to inherit from their parents even though they had neglected to imitate a father in becoming a Roman citizen. He further showed his humanity by compelling cruel masters to sell slaves they had maltreated.
In the name of his wife, Faustina, for whom—despite the assaults on her character—he retained ever affection and respect, he consecrated a protective foundation for the benefit of girls, puellæ alimentariæ Faustinianæ—the first of its kind in the world, and the initial move to save female children other than the first-born. A medal of the time, showing the Empress, bears on the reverse side Antoninus surrounded by children, with the words Puellæ Faustinianæ in the exergue.[358] This, together with his continuous support of the pueri alimentarii, entitles him to the credit of saving more children from the “ancient and abominable” custom of being thrown out on the crossroads to die than any of his predecessors.
At the end of his reign it is evident from the inscriptions that endowments similar to those originated by Nerva had been made at Atina, Abellinum, Abella, Vibo, Caieta, Anagnia, Fundi, Cupra Montana, Industria, Brixia, Aquileia, Compsa, Æclanum, Allifæ, Aufidena, Cures, Auximum, and other places. What is more interesting than the point of view of E. E. Bryant, in his Life of Antoninus Pius, that these “endowments undoubtedly pauperized Italians and lightened unwisely the responsibility of parents for the maintenance of their children? But they must certainly have been of assistance to farmers, and have supplied them with the capital necessary for successful agriculture.”[359]
The progress made in the matter of child history would be incomplete if one did not recall that in this reign appeared that bold and able defender of Christianity, Justin Martyr. The time had gone by for darkness and seclusion, and now, that which had been contemptuously but so well described as the religion of “slaves and women, of children and old men,” strode abroad, proclaiming its right to be heard as a rational and uplifting doctrine. Pleading for the oppressed and the downtrodden, pleading for those the Roman world affected to despise, preaching a religion of humility—there is a fine, robust, masculine note in Justin’s opening words of his apology, the challenging conviction of a man who knowingly throws down the gauntlet to the masters of the world.
To the Emperor Titus Ælius Antoninus, Pius, Augustus, Cæsar;
to his Son Verissimus, Philosopher;
to Lucius, Philosopher,
Son of Cæsar by Birth and of Antoninus by Adoption,
a Prince Friendly to Literature;
to the Sacred Senate and to the Entire Roman People,
In the Name of those who, among All Men,
Are unjustly Hated and Persecuted;
I, One of Them,
Justin ... Have Written this Discourse.