The Amazing Emperor Heliogabalus

by John Stuart Hay

At last Antonine’s eyes were fully opened to his danger. He now knew how far Mamaea’s money and persuasions had gone, and whither the influence of Maesa was tending. There had been a military rising; not strong enough to effect its purpose, it is true, but still able to cause confusion, strife, and divided allegiance in the city, and set people’s tongues wagging.

The Emperor seems to have made up his mind at once as to his line of conduct. With a courage almost unprecedented in a boy of his age, he went straight to the camp, resolved to show himself in their midst and settle this matter, once and for all, with the Praetorians. It was undoubtedly one of the finest acts of courage in his life, this going alone and unprotected into the midst of a camp which was supposed to be in mutiny; a camp where he had just learnt that at least a section of the men were in his aunt’s pay, and to which, if Lampridius’ statement is correct, his aunt, cousin, and grandmother had just retired for safety. Surely to go there utterly unprotected was simply courting the assassination he had so narrowly avoided, was making death absolutely certain, unless he knew that the number of the disaffected was very small, and that Lampridius’ statement about the imperial family and their journey thither was pure fiction. There is not much doubt, however, despite the biographer, that they were still in the palace, and would rather have died than go to the camp, lest the Emperor should learn of their part in the conspiracy.

There is yet another discrepancy between the account of Dion and that of Lampridius; the latter says that Alexander was in the camp for safety, the former is equally sure that Antonine took him with him when he went to find out the reason of the disturbance. Be this as it may, Dion states that the arrival of the Emperor put a stop to the trouble, and that there was a conference, at which Alexander’s name was never mentioned. The subject of complaint and mutiny was, that certain freedmen had been appointed to offices for which, in all probability, there had been candidates better qualified than the Emperor’s friends. With a considerable amount of good sense, Antonine acceded to the soldiers’ demands; he dismissed four out of the five persons mentioned, amongst whom were Gordius, from the praefecture of the night watch, Murissimus, from an unknown office, and two other friends, “who, mad as he was, made him madder.” Hierocles’ name was also mentioned, but the Emperor refused to listen to it; “he would die,” he said, “rather than give up Hierocles, whatever they might think of his usefulness,” and this was all. Antonine had recognised a grievance and remedied it; after which, in all probability, the affair was dealt with by the regimental court-martial as usual.

A comparison between Dion’s account of this “terrible uproar” and Lampridius’ account of the futility of the whole proceeding leaves one with the impression that once again Mamaea had failed in a dastardly attempt on Antonine’s life. It is unthinkable that any assassin, however stupid, would have warned the friends of his enemy concerning his proposed attempt, as both Herodian and Lampridius testify that Antonine did. Herodian, speaking generally of Antonine’s plots against Alexander, says that “the Emperor was of so shallow and wicked a character that he announced openly and without precaution what was in his mind, and did the same without any concealment.” Lampridius says that he had the foolishness to write to the boy’s guardians and tell them to do the deed.

As to the whole arrangement being a plot of Mamaea’s, there is much more to be said. It would certainly not be to her advantage if Alexander’s adoption was annulled: that project must be stopped at all costs; why, therefore, should she not circulate the report that Antonine was plotting a definite act against his cousin on a certain day? She chose a day when, as she knew, the Emperor would be in a quiet spot and defenceless. She could pay for a military rising, which, being quite a usual occurrence, would account for everything, and then her troubles would be over, her position secure for her lifetime. Unfortunately for her, Soaemias heard of the plan and went to warn her son. When she got to the gardens, she found that Mamaea’s money had not bought sufficient people, and that the attempt was frustrated. If there had been any real attempt made by an unpopular Emperor against a popular associate, some definite arrangement would have been come to as regards the protection of the person threatened, but, as far as we can see, things went on just as usual. The Emperor still had command of the boy’s person, after as before the rising, and the family still lived on in the palace, trying to brazen out their treachery, facts which give the lie to Lampridius’ remark that special regulations were made to keep the boys apart, as well as for Alexander’s safety.

There is a phrase in Dion which is fairly conclusive as to the attitude which his family were adopting towards Antonine at this period. It reads: “this time” (in the camp conference, where it will be remembered that the soldiers never mentioned putting their Emperor to death at all) “he obtained mercy, though with difficulty, because his grandmother hated him on account of his conduct, and because, not being even the son of Antonine (Caracalla), her inclination was veering towards Alexander, as if he had been in reality the issue of that prince.” This is a very fair indication of the stories by means of which these women were trying to ruin the boy; stories inspired by hatred. It seems that they were perfectly willing to do anything, to say anything, to contradict anything, they had formerly said, to spend anything, if only they could collect a faction strong enough to support their schemes of replacing Antonine by Alexander. Here is a good attempt to crush his popularity by denying what they had formerly stated so enthusiastically—the bastardy of Varius—and affirming instead that of Alexianus as being the only genuine example; in fact, they were limiting the performances of Caracalla to the unattractive sister, and denying Soaemias’ position. If they could do that, they were more than capable of working up fury by reports of a definite attempt on the only genuine bastard’s life, and thus justify their attempt in the Gardens of Hope. The net result of this plot, by whomsoever instituted, was the retirement of Alexander from public notice. Herodian states that he was deprived of his honours. This, however, cannot mean what the mendacious author seems to imply; namely, that Antonine took from him his titles of Caesar and Imperator, as both these occur on the Monza military diploma issued on 7th January 222, and on the majority of the coins issued up to the death of Antonine in the spring of that year. Mere empty titles were, however, of little or no use to the imperial ladies.

Defeated as they had been in one scheme, their ingenuity turned to yet another means of destroying the Emperor’s authority. The attempt above mentioned cannot be dated precisely, but we may infer from Lampridius’ arrangement of his matter, that it was between the wine harvest and the 1st of January, on which date Mamaea made her last and successful attempt to get her son into a definite political position. During the interval, both Dion and Lampridius assure us, with tears in their eyes, that the Emperor made daily attempts on the life of his cousin: a life so useful, so necessary to the state.

To circumvent these Mamaea refused to allow Alexander to eat anything from the imperial kitchens and set up a kitchen and establishment of her own in the palace, an arrangement which would scarcely have been sanctioned by Antonine if he had had any definite murderous object in view, because it would have interfered too materially with such plans. But there was obviously some gross negligence afoot. Any resolute ruler, given a couple of days (even without Locusta’s famous stew of poison and mushrooms, which Nero, in allusion to Claudius’ apotheosis, called the food of the Gods), would have given the lie to that pious generalisation of Lampridius about the impotence of the wicked, and done it in much the same manner that Nero, Domitian, Commodus, and Caracalla had done; not to mention others whose names it would be invidious to bring forward, but who still firmly believe that the wicked, when suitably backed, have a certain power in this world of woe, the wicked naturally being those whom we personally dislike. Antonine seems to have been quite indifferent as to what was going on; he knew that his position was precarious; Syrian divines had told him that his doom was near; in consequence of which he prepared several devices for a unique and splendid suicide; and lived his life, a life in which the spintries—a form of amusement with which Tiberius had refreshed an equally worried frame—figured largely, along with other equally reprehensible enjoyments.

Of the actual politics we know little or nothing from the time of this so-called revolution, until by some means or other, unknown to the Emperor, Maesa got Alexander designated Consul for the year of grace 222. Here Antonine struck. He refused point blank to go to the Senate to be invested with the dignity unless some one else were designated instead of his cousin. He saw the game as clearly as you and I can see it, and resolved to create a deadlock in the constitution. There should be an Emperor, but no Consuls, unless, of course, the women and Senate were prepared to give way. He was not going to give official position and authority to enemies whose object he knew only too well. Up to this juncture he had succeeded in nullifying their machinations; did they think he was going to give away his whole position now? Not he, and so on, and so on. Here was a real difficulty—Rome without Consuls was unthinkable. Antonine without supremacy was almost as impossible a suggestion; still the women resolved to hold on, and try whether patience and diplomacy would not appeal to his sentimental nature, and thus overcome the last bit of opposition. After all, he was young, and affection with children is so much more powerful than reason.