The Storm Before the Storm

by Michael Duncan

  AFTER KING ATTALUS III died, a pretender to the throne named Aristonicus rejected the handover of the kingdom to Rome and claimed the crown for himself. He went around drumming up support, but most of the rich coastal cities had good relations with Rome and there was little interest in joining a revolt. Driven into the interior, Aristonicus had better luck recruiting by promising freedom to slaves in exchange for service. Raising an army of impoverished peasants and field slaves, Aristonicus promised that after they defeated Rome they would all be equal citizens in a free utopia he dubbed Heliopolis—the City of Sun.27

  So just as Spain and Sicily were put to bed, the Senate had to turn and deal with Asia. The command went to the new consul, and recently appointed land commissioner, Mucianus. Mucianus lobbied hard for the command, which held the promise of massive eastern riches, but upon arrival in Asia, nothing went right. Mucianus led his legions into the mountainous interior of Anatolia but found himself repeatedly bested by Aristonicus. In a final humiliating blow, Mucianus himself was captured by the enemy. Furious at being made a prisoner, the consul provoked his captors and “blinded with a stick the barbarian who was guarding him.” The guard, “smarting from the pain and burning with rage, stabbed him through the side with a sword.”28

  Mucianus’s failure necessitated sending another consular army in 130. This army successfully besieged Aristonicus’s capital and forced Heliopolis to surrender. Most of the inhabitants were either killed or reenslaved; Aristonicus was put in chains and subsequently displayed in a triumphal parade back in Rome. When the parade ended, an executioner strangled Aristonicus to death in a prison cell. The short-lived dream of a slaveless utopia died with him.29

  With all of these battles and sieges proceeding over months and years, it was not until 129 that the Romans finally started organizing the old Kingdom of Pergamum into the new province of Asia. The Senate dispatched consul Manius Aquillius with a ten-man senatorial commission to oversee arrangements. But Aquillius turned out to be a man of questionable character. A few scattered cities still resisted Roman occupation, and not wishing to waste his time with mop-up operations, Aquillius turned to “the wicked expedient of poisoning the springs” to bring the last holdouts to their knees. Hardly the tool of honorable conquest.30

  But with Rome now firmly in charge, Aquillius and the new senatorial embassy settled the province of Asia. The process still dragged on, however, as the ambassadors had to demarcate the boundaries between royal property and free cities in accordance with Attalus’s will. The former would become state-managed ager publicus, the latter exempt from taxation. While these demarcations were being established, Aquillius took the opportunity to make a little profit on the side. He accepted bribes from neighboring kings to hand over lucrative territory as a “reward” for their help containing Aristonicus. In particular, Aquillius gifted the kingdom of Phrygia to King Mithridates V of Pontus—a shady transaction that would still be disputed a generation later.31

  But with Asia finally brought into the Roman fold, the Republic was about to see yet another enormous transfer of wealth to Italy. Asia became by far the most lucrative imperial holding and delivered riches into both private and public hands, exacerbating the rising inequality that had already been undermining the stability of the Republic.

  HISTORY BOOKS ARE filled with the names of Roman military and political leaders because those were the men Roman historians wrote about—giving the impression that every Roman was a triumph-hunting political intriguer. But plenty of wealthy Roman citizens had no interest in the lunatic jockeying for consulships and triumphs that consumed the great noble houses. And because no member of the Senate was allowed to engage in commerce, there was plenty of room for the nonpolitical rich to take on the business of the growing empire and make huge fortunes without the pathos of high politics.32

  The families who constituted the nonpolitical rich of Rome were called the Equestrian class. Originally these were men with enough wealth to equip and maintain a warhorse so they filled the ranks of Rome’s early cavalry—hence the name “Equestrians.” But by the age of the Gracchi, the Equestrian name referred generally to the class of families worth more than four hundred thousand sesterce. To say these families formed the “middle class” of Rome is tecÚically accurate—their fortunes fell somewhere in between the senatorial oligarchs and the mass of subsistence peasants—but Equestrian fortunes were still considerable, and they were a part of the economic elite.33

  At the intersection of private and state business was a special group of Equestrians called the publicani. The Republic had a variety of public obligations to fulfill, from equipping armies, to maintaining temples, to building roads and aqueducts. With senators prohibited from conducting business, someone had to handle the logistical details. The first recorded publicani contract was simple: procure feed for the Sacred Geese, a special flock of birds the superstitious Romans believed to be favored by the gods. But by the time of the Punic Wars the publicani handled a significant chunk of state business. With nearly fifty thousand men in the legions there was a constant demand for shoes, tunics, horses, blankets, and weapons. One order called for 6,000 togas, 30,000 tunics, and 200 Numidian horses to be delivered to Macedon—someone had to arrange it. Men would buy shares in joint-stock companies and then bid on the right to fulfill a contract. As the breadth and depth of the Republican Empire grew—the profits to be made from state contracts were enormous—some publicani fortunes came to surpass those of minor senators.34

  The most lucrative contracts were for operating the state-owned mines. The first batch of state mines came under Roman control during the Punic Wars after Rome expelled Carthage from Spain. The Romans discovered the Carthaginians had opened rich silver mines and so claimed these mines as state-owned ager publicus. Every five years contracts would be auctioned off to operate the mines, and though it is difficult to calculate actual figures, the revenue involved dwarfed anything the Romans had ever handled. Conditions in these mines were awful. Diodorus describes that slaves “wear out their bodies both day and night in the diggings under the earth… dying in large numbers because of the exceptional hardships they endure… For no respite or pause is granted them in their labors, but compelled beneath blows of the overseers to endure the severity of their plight, they throw away their lives in this wretched manner.” The work was fatal, but the profits astronomical.35

  The second-most lucrative contracts were for tax collection. The Roman provincial administrators did not directly collect provincial taxes. Instead publicani investors would form companies to buy five-year contracts, offering a lump sum of cash in exchange for the right to go collect what was owed Rome—the amount of money a company made over the amount paid was their profit. It was a system begging to be abused because the publicani had every incentive to extort as much as they could—even if it was more than what was legally owed. With limited oversight out in the provinces, the publicani tax farmers soon gained a notorious reputation that wherever they went there was neither law nor freedom. But despite this reputation for vigorous avarice, the publicani was still the one group that could actually handle the logistical load of empire. The Republic had no standing bureaucracy, so someone had to do it.36

  The Senate was not thrilled at the rise of these publicani corporations. Senators were themselves prohibited from participating in commercial enterprises, so they naturally considered base commerce beneath the dignity of a reputable man and distrusted the publicani as greedy parasites. After the conquest of Macedonia in 168, the Senate intentionally withheld its extensive mines, forests, and infrastructure from the publicani. It was a deliberate attempt to block the further ascendency of the publicani, but it didn’t last long. Five years later the province was opened and the money started rolling in. From that point on, wherever Rome went, so too came the publicani. And publicani conduct in the rich province of Asia would become a special source of future conflict.37

  WHILE ASIA WAS proving itself to be a major source of confli
ct abroad, the seeds of an even more disastrous conflict were being sewn back home as the work of the agrarian commission exposed major fault lines in the social and political landscape of Italy.

  Italy in the second century was not a unified state, but rather a stratified confederation of cities, each with different social and political rights depending on when and how they fell under the Roman umbrella. At the top of the citizenship hierarchy were, of course, full Roman citizens. There was no wealth requirement to be a citizen—the wealthiest senator and the poorest beggar both shared equally in the rights of citizenship, rights that collectively established their libertas, or civil liberty. The most important of these liberties was the right to vote in the Assembly and protection from abuse by senior magistrates.38

  Below the full Roman citizens in the hierarchy were the communities or individuals who held so-called Latin Rights. After unilaterally annexing Latium in 338, the Senate did not offer full citizenship for their new Latin citizens but instead granted them a set of rights that allowed them to operate on a semi-equal footing with true Romans. Latins could marry, enter into contracts, and engage in land claims with a full Roman citizen. They even had the right to vote in the Assembly, though the Senate was not going to give too much of a voice: the Latins were collectively lumped into just one of the thirty-five voting tribes.39

  Eventually the concept of Latin Rights outgrew its original etÚic origin. When Rome planted new colonies around Italy, the Roman colonists were downgraded to holding mere Latin Rights in exchange for the free plot of land and place in the colony they were about to receive. Individual Italians could also win Latin Rights by special grant by the Senate or senior Roman magistrate—often as a reward for battlefield heroics or rendering some special service to Rome. Holding Latin Rights soon became a civil distinction rather than an etÚic one.40

  Finally, at the bottom of the hierarchy were the foederati or socii—known collectively as the “Allies.” As Rome had spread across Italy they forced defeated cities and tribes to sign mutual defense pacts with Rome that required both sides to come to the other’s aid. But those defeated cities were never formally annexed, hence they remained merely “Allies” of Rome. The majority of inhabitants in Italy were Allies with only limited civil and political rights. But as a trade-off they also had few responsibilities. Rome demanded no regular taxes and left local administration to local magistrates. All Rome asked was that the Allies provide troops to fill the ranks of the legions. The hierarchical, confederal relationship that defined Roman Italy worked tolerably well for two centuries. It was now coming undone.41

  BY 129, ONLY young Gaius Gracchus remained of the original land commissioners. Tiberius had died on the Capitoline Hill and his successor Mucianus had been killed in Asia. Mucianus’s seat was filled by Marcus Fulvius Flaccus, the friend of the Gracchi who had helped drive the hated Nasica out of Rome. Now in his mid-thirties, Flaccus was gearing up for a run at the consulship when he joined the commission. Then in 129, the old princeps senatus Claudius died and his seat went to Gaius Papirius Carbo, the tribune who had introduced the secret ballot law in 131 and clashed with Aemilianus over the legacy of Tiberius’s death. Where once the Gracchan faction had been run by eminent elder statesmen, it was now in the hands of young firebrands.42

  The problem facing the new-look agrarian commission was that any ager publicus that was easy to identify and parcel out had already been identified and parceled out. All that remained was disputed property. For every disputed boundary the commission had to undertake a thorough investigation to assess rival claims. This was a process made nearly impossible if owners could not produce deeds, and if sellers could not produce receipts. Hostile ambiguity often reigned and the work of the commission slowed considerably.43

  No boundaries created more hostility than those between Rome’s ager publicus and land owned by her Italian Allies. It was nearly impossible to disentangle ager publicus held by the Senate and People of Rome from ager publicus held by an Allied city. No less than their Roman counterparts, wealthy Italians had absorbed public land onto their estates while poor shepherds relied on public land to graze their flocks. The arrival of these Roman land commissioners looking to confiscate property threatened everyone’s livelihoods, but without the ability to stand for themselves in a Roman judicial proceeding, the Italians needed a Roman patron to protect their interests. They found a champion in Scipio Aemilianus, now taking the stage for the final public act of his long and storied career.44

  Aemilianus’s reasons for entering the fray on behalf of the Italians were varied and not wholly magnanimous. First, it would boost his own prestige enormously. His aristocratic disdain for the fate of Tiberius had estranged him from the populace of Rome, so he now positioned himself to broaden his base of political support. Second, by pushing back against the land commission, Aemilianus hoped to reconcile with his colleagues in the Senate. He had spent his life thumbing his nose at their traditions, but Aemilianus would earn back much goodwill if he killed the despised land commission. Finally, there may have been a collective desire on the part of the Senate to at least appear to take the complaints of the Italians seriously. Full integration of Italy was not what the Senate desired, but by positioning themselves as sympathetic to the Italians, they might buy enough support to permanently avoid calls for more drastic reform.45

  In 129, Aemilianus delivered a speech in the Senate arguing that the commissioners were violating treaties, and that because borders with Allied land was a matter of foreign policy and not domestic affairs, disputes between the commission and the Italians should be arbitrated by a consul. The Senate agreed and passed a decree supporting Aemilianus’s recommendation. This decree did not have the literal force of law, but now that the land commission was run by three relatively junior politicians, the weight of the Senate’s opinion prevailed. But by now nearly all available land bordered Italian property, so the senatorial decree brought the work of the land commission to a grinding halt. The commission was not formally abolished, but its ability to act was fatally curtailed.46

  Aemilianus then moved the debate into the Forum where he held forth in front of the crowds, laying the groundwork for either significantly amending, or outright repealing, the Lex Agraria. But he was, once again, greeted by the plebs urbana, who were angry he was taking the side of the Italians. Cries went out that Aemilianus was “determined to abolish the law of Gracchus utterly and for that end was about to inaugurate armed strife and bloodshed.” Soon, the already hostile mob turned very hostile and men started shouting, “Kill the tyrant!” But Aemilianus stood his ground and said, “Very naturally those who feel hostile towards our country wish to make away with me first; for it is not possible for Rome to fall while Scipio stands, nor for Scipio to live when Rome has fallen.” But though he all but dared the mob to attack, they did not, and Aemilianus’s friends escorted him home after the meeting had adjourned.47

  After his friends saw him safely home, Aemilianus told them that he planned to spend the evening working on a major speech that he would deliver the following day. But the next morning Aemilianus failed to emerge from his house. Concerned friends soon found his lifeless body in his bed. Only fifty-six years old and still in the prime of his political life, Scipio Aemilianus was dead.48

  Given the atmosphere that surrounded his sudden death it would have been impossible not to suspect foul play, and over the years the list of suspects has included the entire Gracchi family: Gaius, his sister Sempronia, and their mother Cornelia Africana. All three had good reason to now consider their erstwhile kin an enemy. But also suspected were the two other land commissioners Flaccus and Carbo—both of whom had clashed with Aemilianus in the past. But for whatever reason, the Senate did not care to pry too deeply into the affair: “Great man though [Aemilianus] was, no inquest was held concerning the manner of his death.” It may well be that Aemilianus’s death was natural and that the timing of his demise mere coincidence. We will never know.49

  TH
E STORIED AND controversial career of Publius Scipio Aemilianus created a template for future generations of Romans to emulate. He embodied a new spirit of what it meant to be Roman. He embraced Greek philosophy and was comfortable in luxurious surroundings. This new breed of Roman nobiles detested old scolds like Cato the Elder, and they saw no reason to reject good wine and elegant conversation. As the years progressed, the worldview of the Scipione circle would take over the upper classes, who were soon sending their sons to be educated in Athens as a matter of course. Aemilianus even introduced the habit of shaving one’s face daily, which became standard custom of the Roman aristocracy for the next three hundred years.50

  On the political front, Aemilianus figured out how to use the Assembly to bypass inconvenient hurdles. He had held two consulships in his career, both secured after special dispensation from an Assembly. As consul, he fought two great wars, both assigned by a special vote of the Assembly rather than by traditional drawing of lots. It was a powerful example that would be used by all future dynasts of the Late Republic. The Assembly was incredibly powerful—the people’s unified voice could override everything. A man who controlled the Assembly could do anything he wanted.

  Aemilianus also set a dangerous example when he used his extensive client network to raise a personal legion. In an age wracked by fights over conscription, Aemilianus had no trouble raising men to go conquer Numantia—he was able to call in favors and obligations from across the Mediterranean that raised fully sixty thousand troops. Aemilianus was living proof of what a charismatic and well-connected general could do. Marius, Sulla, and Caesar all followed Aemilianus’s basic principles of operations: raise a personal army and then use the Assembly to legislate your opponents into oblivion.

  But though his career pointed to the future Aemilianus himself departed this world as an anachronism. The future would not be defined by noble princes who ruled the world by day and debated Greek philosophy at night. Instead it would be driven by a harder set of men. Publicani merchants steering the empire toward their own profits. Poor farmers squeezed off their land. Urban artisans dealing with recurring grain shortages. Italian Allies frustrated with their lack of civil rights. Slaves by the thousands constantly on the verge of revolt. The next generation would be defined by men who would attempt to harness these forces to control the Republic. But as Aemilianus himself noted, “Those who make themselves up for political competition or the race for glory, as actors do for the stage, must necessarily regret their action, since they must either serve those whom they think they should rule or offend those whom they wish to please.”51