The Books: “The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire” (Edward Gibbon)

I’m on my history bookshelf.

Next book on this shelf is called The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire (Penguin Classics) by Edward Gibbon.

It’s one of those things where you say … uh … SOME DAY I’ll get to that. I really SHOULD read that some day. I mean, it’s this multi-volume dense famous book about the Roman Empire written in the 18th century. Yeah. I’ll get to that some day.

I look at the front page where I always put my name and the date I bought the book – It says “Nov. 2001.” I bought it in Nov. 2001 and promptly read the whole thing. It was hard going, and I read other things at the same time, but … well. It makes total sense. It was Nov. 2001. It makes sense that I would suddenly decide, at that point in time, “Okay. Read this book. GO.” Think about it.

I know I can’t convince anyone who hasn’t read it to read it – it’s a huge undertaking and it takes a long long time to finish it. By the way – that Amazon link I provided is actually to an abridged edition – I didn’t read an abridged edition. I bought the book at the great second-hand store right down the street from my parents house – a huge dusty hardcover book, with thin crinkly pages, and teeny print. I’ve gotta be nuts to read a book like that, right? I guess so.

I read it like a bat out of hell. I was in a bad bad way that fall, because of September 11th, of course … and have never read so many books in such a short time. I should go back and calculate the number of books I tore through in a matter of months. All about empires and Islam and totalitarian regimes and the Crusades … I remember I had one moment when I went to the Strand to pick up some books on the history of the Muslim world. Because I’m a history buff, I had already read most of Bernard Lewis’ stuff, long prior to September 11th, but you know … there were some holes in my collection that I needed to rectify. So I went to the Strand and I went to the History section. I found the section on the “Middle East”. And the shelves were empty. This was in October. The shelves were literally empty. Maybe there was one Koran, and one travelogue from some sand-mad Brit in the early 20th century. But other than that, they were cleaned OUT. I felt a burst of pride for my … countrymen, my fellow Americans. To those jagoffs out there who think we’re stupid, soft, uncurious, and indifferent: I present to you the 12 EMPTY SHELVES in the Strand. Yeah, so maybe a lot of people didn’t know the history behind the attacks and what the hell was going on with those terrorists. But what did everyone in New York do? They went to the Strand and bought all the books in sight on the topic. I felt so PROUD of us. All right, so this attack took some of us by surprise. So let’s go catch up then. Let’s go figure it out. Let’s accept the steep learning curve and CATCH UP.

But that’s a sidenote.

I was so upset and so … well, kind of constantly having a panic attack for about 2 months … that Decline and Fall was a perfect antidote to that. A book about antiquity. A book written in rigorous formal 18th century language. A book still relevant to the events of today. But a HARD book. A CHALLENGING book. Not an “Islam for Dummies” book. It took up so much of my concentration that I found it very very calming to read. Even though it’s basically page after page of atrocities.

LM Montgomery, author of Anne of Green Gables and many many others, loved this book and I think read it all the way through 4 or 5 times. She found it very comforting – especially in really bad times. She lived through two world wars, after all.

Here’s one of my favorite quotes from her journal about Gibbon and his masterwork:

“I finished ‘Decline and Fall’ this evening. It is the third time I have read it…It is a monumental piece of work. I know of no historian so coldly impersonal as Gibbon. He seems more like a machine recording history … This makes for the proper impartiality; but it is also largely accountable for what, after all, must be called the monotony of his style. Almost the only portions of his history in which we get a glimpse of Gibbon himself — the intellect behind the machine — are in his famous chapters on Christianity and his sprinkling of sly spicy smutty stories. Naturally these — the chapters, I mean — are therefore the most interesting part of the work … Gibbon doesn’t overdo but his smirk rather gives the effect of a Satyr leering suddenly around the columns of Karnak.”

The book is stupendous and has the ability to make you feel small and insignificant – your problems amounting to “a hill of beans”.

The chapter on Christianity is rightly famous – but I’m going to post an excerpt about the emperor Diocletian. Note: all the footnotes are written by Gibbon (except for one notable exception – you’ll see it.) The footnotes are written in the same mildly snarky and very very formal tone of the rest of Gibbon’s prose. For some reason, I really enjoy the prose. It flows, it sweeps me along with it (like LM Montgomery said) – and even though it’s formal language, I can just sit back and let it take me.

Onward! Diocletian!!

From The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire (Penguin Classics) by Edward Gibbon.

From the time of Augustus to that of Diocletian, the Roman princes, conversing in a familiar manner among their fellow-citizens, were saluted only with the same respect that was usually paid to senators and magistrates. Their principal distinction was the Imperial or military robe of purple; whilst the senatorial garment was marked by a broad, and the equestrian by a narrow band or stripe of the same honorable color. The pride, or rather the policy of Diocletian, engaged that artful prince to introduce the stately magnificence of the court of Persia. He ventured to assume the diadem, an ornament detested by the Romans as the odious ensign of royalty, and the use of which had been considered as the most desperate act of the madness of Caligula. It was no more than a broad white fillet set with pearls, which encircled the emperor’s head. The sumptuous robes of Diocletian and his successors were of silkl and gold; and it is remarked with indignation that even their shoes were studded with the most precious gems. The access to their sacred person was every day rendered more difficult by the institution of new forms and ceremonies. The avenues of the palace were strictly guarded by the various schools, as they began to be called, of domestic officers. The interior apartments were intrusted to the jealous vigilance of the eunuchs; the increase of whose numbers and influence was the most infallible symptom of the progress of despotism. When a subject was at length admitted to the Imperial presence, he was obliged, whatever might be his rank, to fall prostrate on the ground, and to adore, according to the eastern fashion, the divinity of his lord and master.¹⁰² Diocletian was a man of sense, who, in the course of private as well as public life, had formed a just estimate both of himself and of mankind: nor is it easy to conceive that in substituting the manners of Persia to those of Rome he was seriously actuated by so mean a principle as that of vanity. He flattered himself that an ostentation of splendour and luxury would subdue the imagination of the multitude; that the monarch would be less exposed to the rude licence of the people and the soldiers, as his person was secluded from the public view; and that habits of submission would insensibly be productive of sentiments of veneration. Like the modesty affected by Augustus, the state maintained by Diocletian was a theatrical representation; but it must be confessed that, of the two comedies, the former was of a much more liberal and manly character than the latter. It was the aim of the one to disguise, and the object of the other to display, the unbounded power which the emperors possessed over the Roman world.

Ostentation was the first principle of the new system instituted by Diocletian. The second was division. He divided the empire, the provinces, and every branch of the civil as well as military administration. He multiplied the wheels of the machine of government, and rendered its operations less rapid but more secure. Whatever advantages and whatever defects might attend these innovations, they must be ascribed in a very great degree to the first inventor; but as the new frame of policy was gradually improved and completed by succeeding princes, it will be more satisfactory to delay the consideration of it till the season of its full maturity and perfection.¹⁰³ Reserving, therefore, for the reign of Constantine a more exact picture of the new empire, we shall content ourselves with describing the principal and decisive outline, as it was traced by the hand of Diocletian. He had associated three colleagues in the exercise of the supreme power; and as he was convinced that the abilities of a single man were inadequate to the public defence, he considered the joint administration of four princes not as a temporary expedient, but as a fundamental law of the constitution. It was his intention that the two elder princes should be distinguished by the use of the diadem and the title of Augusti; that, as affection or esteem might direct their choice, they should regularly call to their assistance two subordinate colleagues; and that the Caesars, rising in their turn to the first rank, should supply an uninterrupted succession of emperors. The empire was divided into four parts. The East and Italy were the most honourable, the Danube and the Rhine the most laborious stations. The former claimed the presence of the Augusti, the latter were intrusted to the administration of the Caesars. The strength of the legions was in the hands of the four partners of sovereignty, and the despair of successively vanquishing four formidable rivals might intimidate the ambition of an aspiring general. In their civil government the emperors were supposed to exercise the undivided power of the monarch, and their edicts, inscribed with their joint names, were received in all the provinces as promulgated by their mutual councils and authority. Notwithstanding these precautions, the political union of the Roman world was gradually dissolved, and a principle of division was introduced, which, in the course of a few years, occasioned the perpetual separation of the eastern and western empires.

The system of Diocletian was accdompanied with another very material disadvantage, which cannot even at present be totally overlooked: a more expensive establishment, and consequently an increase of taxes, and the oppression of the people. Instead of a modest family of slaves and freedmen, such as had contented the simple greatness of Augustan and Trajan, three or four magnificent courts were established in the various parts of the empire, and as many Roman kings contended with each other and with the Persian monarch for the vain superiority of pomp and luxury. The number of ministers, of magistrates, of officers, and of servants, who filled the different departments of the state, was multipled beyond the example of former times; and (if we may borrow the warm expression of a contemporary), “when the proportion of those who received exceeded the proportion of those who contributed, the provinces were oppressed by the weight of tributes.”¹⁰⁴ From this period to the extinction of the empire, it would be easy to deduce an uninterrupted series of clamors and complaints. According to his religion and situation, each writer chooses either Diocletian, or Constantine, or Valens, or Theodosius, for the object of his invectives; but they unanimously agree in representing the burden of the public impositions, and particularly the land-tax and capitation, as the intolerable and increasing grievance of their own times. From such a concurrence, an impartial historian, who is obliged to extract truth from satire, as well as from panegyric, will be inclined to divide the blame among the princes whom they accuse, and to ascribe their exactions much less to their personal vices than to the uniform system of their administration. The emperor Diocletian was indeed the author of that system; but during his reign the growing evil was confined within the bounds of modesty and discretion, and he deserves the reproach of establishing pernicious precedents, rather than of exercising actual oppression.¹⁰⁵ It may be added, that his revenues were managed with prudent economy; and that, after all the current expenses were discharged, there still remained in the Imperial treasury an ample proision either for judicious liberality or for any emergency of the state.

It was in the twenty-first year of his reign that Diocletian exercised his memorable resolution of abdicating the empire; an action more naturally to have been expected from the elder or the younger Antoninus than from a prince who had never practiced the lessons of philosophy either in the attainment or in the use of supreme power. Diocletian acquired the glory of giving to the world the first example of a resignation¹⁰⁶ which has not been very frequently imitated by succeeding monarchs. The parallel of Charles the Fifth, however, will naturally offer itself to our mind, not only since the eloquence of a modern historian has rendered that name so familiar to an English reader, but from the very striking resemblance between the characters of the two emperors, whose political abilities were superior to their military genius, and whose specious virtues were much less the effect of nature than of art. The abdication of Charles appears to have been hastened by the vicissitude of fortune; and the disappointment of his favorite schemes urged him to relinquish a power which he found inadequate to his ambition. But the reign of Diocletian had flowed with a tide of uninterrupted success; nor was it till after he had vanquished all his enemies, and accomplished all his designs, that he seems to have entertained any serious thoughts of resigning the empire. Neither Charles nor Diocletian were arrived at a very advanced period of life; since the one was only fifty-five, and the other was no more than fifty-nine years of age; but the active life of those princes, their wars and journeys, the cares of royalty, and their application to business, had already impaired their constitution, and brought on the infirmities of a premature old age.¹⁰⁷

Notwithstanding the severity of a very cold and rainy winter, Diocletian left Italy soon after the ceremony of his triumph, and began his progress towards the East round the circuit of the Illyrian provinces. From the inclemency of the weather and the fatigue of the journey, he soon contracted a slow illness; and though he made easy marches, and was generally carried in a close litter, his disorder, before he arrived at Nicomedia, about the end of the summer, was become very serious and alarming. During the whole winter he was confined to his palace; his danger inspired a general and unaffected concern; but the people could only judge of the various alterations of his health from the joy or consternation which they discovered in the countenances and behavior of his attendants. The rumor of his death was for some time universally believed, and it was supposed to be concealed with a view to prevent the troubles that might have happened during the absence of the Caesar Galerius. At length, however, on the first of March, Diocletian once more appeared in public, but so pale and emaciated that he could scarcely have been recognized by those to whom his person was the most familiar. It was time to put an end to the painful struggle, which he had sustained during more than a year, between the care of his health and that of his dignity. The former required indulgence and relaxation, the latter compelled him to direct, from the bed of sickness, the administration of a great empire. He resolved to pass the remainder of his days in honorable repose, to place his glory beyond the reach of fortune, and to relinquish the theatre of the world to his younger and more active associates.¹⁰⁸

The ceremony of his abdication was performed in a spacious plain, about three miles from Nicomedia. The emperor ascended a lofty throne, and, in a speech full of reason and dignity, declared his intention, both to the people and to the soldiers who were assembled on this extraordinary occasion. As soon as he had divested himself of the purple, he withdrew from the gazing multitude, and, traversing the city in a covered chariot, proceeded without delay to the favorite reitrement which he had chosen in his native country of Dalmatia. On the same day, which was the first of May,¹⁰⁹ Maximian, as it had been previously concerted, made his resignation of the Imperial dignity at Milan. Even in the splendour of the Roman triumph, Diocletian had meditated his design of abdicating the government. As he wished to secure the obedience of Maximian, he exacted from him either a general assurance that he would submit his actions to the authority of his benefactor, or a particular promise that he would descend from the throne whenever he should receive the advice and the example. This engagement, though it was confirmed by the solemnity of an oath before the altar of the Capitoline Jupiter,¹¹⁰ would have proved a feeble restraint on the fierce temper of Maximian, whose passion was the love of power, and who neither desired present tranquility nor future reputation. But he yielded, however reluctantly, to the ascendant which his wiser colleague had acquired over him, and retired immediately after his abdication to a villa in Lucania, where it was almost impossible that such an impatient spirit could find any lasting tranquility.

¹⁰²Aurelius Victor. Eutropius, ix. 26. It appears by the Panegyrists that the Romans were soon reconciled to the name and ceremony of adoration.

¹⁰³The innovations introduced by Diocletian are chiefly deduced, 1st, from some very strong passages in Lactantius; and, secondly, from the new and various offices which, in the Theodosian code, appear already established in the beginning of the reign of Constantine.

¹⁰⁴ Lactant, de M. P. c. 7.

¹⁰⁵Indicta lex nova quae sane illorum temporum modestia tolerabilis, in perniciem processit. Aurel. Victor [de Caesar, c. 39]; who has treated the character of Diocletian with good sense, though in bad Latin.
[The most curious document which has come to light since the publication of Gibbon’s History is the edict of Diocletian published from an incription found at Eskihissar (Stratoniceia), by Col. Leake. This edict, according to Milman, was issued in the name of the four Caesars, Diocletian, Maximian, Constantius, and Galerius. It fixed a maximum of prices throughout the empire for all the necessaries and commodities of life. The preamble insists with great vehemence on the extortion and inhumanity of the merchants and vendors. Among the articles of which the maximum value is assessed are oil, salt, honey, butcher’s meat, poultry, game, fish, vegetables, fruit, the wages of laborers and artisans, schoolmasters and orators, clothes, skins, boots and shoes, harness, timber, corn, wine, and beer (zythus). The depreciation in the value of money or the rise in the price of commodities had been so great during the last century that butcher’s meat, which in the second century was two denarii the pound, was now fixed at a maximum of eight. An excellent edition of the edict has been published with a commentary by Mommsen, who shows that it was issued in AD 301. Cf Finlay’s Hist. of Greece, vol 1. Appendix I. – O.S.]

¹⁰⁶Solus omnium, post conditum Romanum Imperium, qui ex tanto fastigio sponte ad privatae vitae statum civilitatemque remearet. Eutrop. ix. 28.

¹⁰⁷The particulars of the journey and illness are taken from Lactantius (c. 17), who may sometimes be admitted as an evidence of public facts, though very seldom of private anecdotes.

¹⁰⁸Aurelius Victor [de Caesar, c. 39] ascribes the abdication, which had been so variously accounted for, to two causes: first, Diocletian’s contempt of ambition; and secondly, His apprehension of impending troubles. One of the panegyrists (vi. 9) mentions the age and infirmities of Diocletian as a very natural reason for his retirement.

¹⁰⁹The difficulties as well as mistakes attending the dates both of the year and of the day of Diocletian’s abdication are perfectly cleared up by Tillemont, Hist. des Empereurs, tom. iv. p. 525, note 19, and by Pagi ad annum.

¹¹⁰See Panegyr. Veter. vi. 9. The oration was pronounced after Maximian had reassumed the purple.