SEVERUS STEPPED DOWN FROM the platform where he had received the purple cloak, now his, and descended into a morass from which it would have taken a very wise man a long time to escape. He would have neither the opportunity nor the wisdom to do so, and Galerius would soon be making his success virtually impossible. Confounding the situation, Galerius’ staff appears to have comprised very different people than those who were important in the west. We do not have for this group the mass of information provided by the record of the prefects of Rome for Maximian’s allies, but it is perhaps significant that the few names we do have are either men from the Balkans or likely easterners; they are people like Valerius Licinianus Licinius, a close associate who had been with Galerius in the Persian war; Pompeius Probus, who would become his praetorian prefect; and Tatius Andronicus.1 For all that the new regime presented itself to the public as the continuation of the old (see figure 11.1), there were tensions now that were far more pronounced than in the past.
As Maximian removed himself from center stage to the villa near Rome that he had selected for his retirement, it became increasingly clear that the years before his abdication had witnessed some subtle changes in the makeup of the senatorial power set at Rome. The previous mixture of eastern and western officials that appeared in the consular and prefectorial lists of the city of Rome—the people for whom we have the best evidence—had given way to a group that was largely Italian.
We know of seven prefects between 299 and 306—a new one was to be appointed annually. Only one of these men came from a family whose main base of operations was outside of Italy or North Africa. This was Lucius Aelius Aelianus Dionysius who held the post in 301–302. Another who figures in these years is one Marcus Junius Caesonius Nicomachus Anicius Faustus Paulinus, urban prefect in 299–300; he was the scion of two of the most powerful families of the era, the Caesonii and the Ancicii, whose blood was arguably bluer than the waters of the Aegean. A dedication he made to the invincible god Hercules, probably in the 280s, attests his early adherence to the court of Maximian. His successor was Pompeius Appius Faustinus, whose devotion to the cause of Maximian was also demonstrated by a dedication to the invincible god Hercules when he was urban praetor; a few years later he served as corrector of Campania in southern Italy. That post appears to have been a senatorial sinecure, since it involved administering an area where many of this class had their vacation homes. While there, Pompeius had erected a dedicatory inscription to Constantius. In his year as prefect of the city, Aelianus’ successor, Nummius Tuscus, dedicated a statue to “our greatest lords in war and peace, Marcus Aurelius Maximianus Pius Felix eternal Augustus and Flavius Valerius Constantius the most noble Caesar having been preserved with honor increased by their piety and clemency.” Junius Tiberianus, who took office in 303, had been governor of Asia after holding a consulship under Probus in 281; he was the son of the urban prefect of 291 and so would have had close ties with the urban elite. The prefect for 304–305 was Aradius Rufinus, from a Roman family, and for 305–306 it was Titus Flavius Postumius Titianus, who advertised his descent from Roman cultural figures of the past century, was a priest of the Divine Sun (Aurelian’s god), and held sundry Italian sinecures. Gaius Annius Anullinus, the prefect for the next year, was cut from the same cloth and a close relative of his was serving as praetorian prefect.2
FIGURE 11.1
The new college: Constantius (a), Galerius (b), Maximinus Daia (c), and Severus (d). Sources: (a–c) courtesy of the author; (d) courtesy of the American Numismatic Society.
As a man whose career had been hitherto military and, it seems, largely based in the Balkans, Severus had no obvious or easy connection with this group, although Constantius, as the other western emperor and son-in-law of Maximian, did. Whatever motivated these families—and the bare records of their careers do not allow us extensive insights into their minds—they would retain their influence in the coming years and gain in stature as power shifted away from Nicomedia and the Balkans to a dynasty based in the west.
Galerius only exacerbated Severus’ incompatibility with his new colleagues. And strained relations with Constantius made the rather loose association between emperors and regions impossible to maintain. Constantius was the senior Augustus, but under a system that seems to have come almost immediately into effect, the government was divided between the new rulers.
In the new system, the empire was divided into twelve dioceses, or groups of provinces, under the control of civilian officials who reported directly to a designated praetorian prefect. In Diocletian’s last years these officials were known as vicarii, or agens vicem prefectorum praetorio (acting in place of the praetorian prefects.)3 The title implies that the praetorian prefects had been given general oversight of the civil administration of the provinces, but—and this is important—they were given this authority as a group, just as Diocletian and his colleagues held their authority as a group. In 306, an official previously described as “acting in place of the praetorian prefects” appears as “acting in place of the praetorian prefect” (agens vicem prefecti praetorio).4 The change from plural to singular suggests that specific prefects now had particular authority in one portion of the empire, and that they were seen as serving a particular member of the imperial college. This change is also reflected in the language of Eusebius, for example, who could speak of Constantine’s “father’s portion” and of “those who governed the other parts” meaning Galerius and his colleagues.5
The most important practical effect of this change was that Galerius could issue an order for Italy and expect it to be obeyed without consulting Constantius, and so he did. He began his reign with a lengthy edict about the evils of corrupt officials and people who brought false accusations. At the same time he issued an order to include Italy within the general imperial census, thereby eliminating the exemption from head and land taxes that its inhabitants had enjoyed since the beginning of the imperial system, and, indeed, for more than a century before that. Lactantius’ claim that responsibility for this decision rested squarely upon the shoulders of Galerius is likely to be correct, for the inclusion of Italy in the census represents the reversal of the policy that Maximian and Constantius had been comfortable with. It is also probably true, as our source maintains, that the actual registration fell as a terrible burden upon all and sundry. Furthermore, a measure of this sort was bound to infringe on the long-held prerogatives of precisely the people who filled the senior offices of state around Severus and must further have undermined his authority, making him look like little more than the agent for the Danubian regime.6
Constantius’ response to Galerius—if it may indeed be seen as a response—changed the life of Constantine and the course of European history. What Constantius did was to send Galerius a letter demanding that Constantine leave Sirmium, where he was then residing at Galerius’ court, and come to Trier. It was later alleged, possibly with some truth, that Constantius feared for his son’s safety—he does look like something of a potential hostage, and Maximian’s son, Maxentius, who had been at Nicomedia, was now living outside of Rome, making the asymmetry of the young’s men’s positions all the more striking.
If the events of the late summer of 305 may be seen as a response to Galerius’ opening salvoes of imperial self-aggrandizement it is because the order to begin the registration of Italy for the census, like the edict on false accusations, seems to have been enacted almost immediately: while the edict on accusation was hardly as offensive as the census order, the penalties it imposed on people who bore false witness in legal cases resembles very much the moralizing style of Diocletian’s later legislation. There is thus a veiled implication that Galerius is the new Diocletian. This may also be a factor in the issuing of a new persecution edict against the Christians, which was enforced in lands that Galerius and Maximinus controlled. It was never enforced in regions that Constantius ruled directly.7
Constantine’s move to the west in this atmosphere of increasing tension was a major political event, and took place within months of the abdications of Diocletian and Maximian. The earliest that we can place Constantine at his father’s side is January of 306, in the context of a campaign in Britain that had recently begun. The decision to bring him to Trier (or Britain) is unlikely to have been greeted with unalloyed joy by all members of the family. The arrival of the twenty-something prince would have trumped whatever hopes the teenage sons of his stepmother Theodora might have entertained. Moreover it may have been obvious, by now, that Constantius himself was not in the best of health.8
The story of Constantine’s return to his father looks in part to his need for legitimacy after July 25, 306, when, without consulting Galerius, he took his recently deceased father’s throne for himself. But the story looks as well to other tales of princely derring-do that helped establish an emperor’s public persona. Galerius, after all, had scouted Narses’ camp in person. Constantius had had to be hoisted out of the way of a band of raging Alemanni to the top of a city wall. Later that same day, he reemerged with reinforcements and destroyed his foe despite being wounded. Constantine’s problem was that Galerius kept trying to kill him.
At first we are told that Galerius would expose Constantine to dreadful dangers, sending him on dangerous missions against the barbarians north of the Danube. Then, when he could keep him at court no longer, he planned to murder him on his way home—in the earliest version of the story Severus is allotted this task—but Constantine outwitted him. Getting wind of Galerius’ evil plan, he rode like the wind through the night, pausing only to kill the post horses that might aid the pursuers he knew were behind him. So it was that he came to his father at Gesoriacum (Boulogne) as he was setting sail for Britain. In a somewhat later version of the story, he would barely reach Constantius before he died, and in yet another, he escaped by taking advantage of Galerius’ drinking habits. The old man got so drunk the night that Constantine fled the palace that he forgot to order the assassination. It was only when he woke up from his stupor—about noon the next day—that he found that Constantine had flown the coop.9
The various versions of the story all serve a purpose—to question the legitimacy of Galerius, to impugn the character of Severus, to conceal the amount of time that Constantine had with his father before his death (the less time, the less likely it could be that his proclamation was the result of an extensive conspiracy as opposed to the spontaneous act of soldiers, as the event was presented), and to make Constantine appear decisive, clever, and brave.
In reality, Constantine’s return was very likely a great deal less dramatic. Minervina had died, but their son Crispus, now aged about three, would have been with Constantine. The boy would have whatever tutor had been engaged to look after him and the necessary servants. The party probably did cause a certain amount of disruption en route since an imperial prince could scarcely have traveled without a military escort as well. It does seem that Constantine joined his father when he was about to sail.
We have no information about the subsequent campaign in Britain, but it would seem that the proclamation of victory before January 6, 306, was premature. Constantius’ presence in York in July suggests that operations in the north were ongoing through the summer. Still, even if victory was elusive, the operations gave Constantine a chance to forge links with members of his father’s senior staff and to prove his ability. Few of those men could have had expectations of further advancement if Constantius died and Severus, as would have been the case, succeeded him. On the other hand, for well-placed and well-paid officials, open rebellion was a dangerous course, and it is perhaps testimony to Constantine’s ability to impress his elders that on July 25, 306, the senior staff was willing to stage-manage his acclamation by the army when they learned of Constantius’ death. One account says that the praetorian prefect was sufficiently taken by Constantine to become the moving force behind the conspiracy to put him on the throne.
A speech delivered in 310 would assert that Constantine was so horrified at the prospect of becoming emperor that he leapt on his horse and would have ridden away if the troops had not stopped him. However, this story alludes to one of the oldest aspects of imperial ceremony, namely, that Rome’s rulers had for centuries pretended that they were amazed, surprised, or worried at the prospect of taking power, so we can safely assume that the scene had been well rehearsed. All the same, the language of what is an immensely skilled presentation weaves together various themes to do with imperial recognition in such a way as to justify an act of open rebellion as a response to the will of the people:
Great Gods, with what good fortune did you bless Constantius Pius even in death. The emperor, about to make the journey to heaven, saw that person whom he was leaving as heir. As soon as he was removed from the earth, the entire army agreed on you, all minds and eyes marked you out, and, although you would have referred the issue about what to do about the highest matters of state to the older emperors, the soldiers anticipated in their eagerness what they would approve with their judgment.10
A true emperor must never seek power for himself—rather, he must be revealed by the gods. Thus popular acclamation was a divinely inspired act, meaning that Galerius’ promotion of Maximinus in 305 could be seen as a usurpation. The reference to the older emperors (in this case, Galerius) gives us no pointer to the complex history of the months following July 25, 306.
At first, it seems, Constantine was acclaimed as Caesar. It was at this point that he sent Galerius a portrait of himself to announce that he was assuming a role in the administration of the empire. The confusion in the sources over the next few weeks or months reflects the speed with which Constantine moved to secure his position. Coins acknowledging Severus as Augustus that preexist any coinage for Constantine were minted at Trier. Given the distance between York and Trier, the rapid arrival of Constantine, with substantial forces to support him, perhaps even before Severus had had time to react to the news, must have surprised everyone. Then, too, troops must have been dispatched to the south of France to secure the passes over the Alps. These events make two things clear. One is that the Gallic regime clearly was deeply loyal to Constantine and his father, more than it had ever been to Diocletian. The second is that Constantine was capable of rapid and decisive action.11
FIGURE 11.2
The rebels of 306: Constantine (a) and Maxentius (b). Sources: (a) courtesy of the American Numismatic Society; (b) courtesy of the author.
Galerius was not happy, but he preferred to negotiate rather than fight, accepting Constantine as Caesar. How long would this settlement last? Events were moving so fast that it might prove impossible to stick for long with any decision. What would Galerius do?12