072 - Vitellius and Vespasian

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Hello and welcome to the history of Rome. Episode 72, Vitellius and Vespasian. In April of 69 AD, the Romans watched Vitellius, their fourth emperor in less than a year, ascend to the throne. When Nero had committed suicide, conventional wisdom held that old Galba would reign for a few years and then hand power to an heir, presumably some young man with many years ahead of him. If anything, the death of Nero was supposed to open up a period of stability. But here they were, ten months later, and the senate was recognizing yet another emperor. There was nothing anyone could really do about it, except hope that this, finally, was the end of it. But it was not to be.

Vitellius would not live to see the new year, and before the final emperor of this chaotic period strode into office, there would be more bloodshed, more misery, more betrayal, and more destruction. Though he was of mild disposition and never would have ordered the crimes committed in his name, when the forces of Vespasian stormed into Italy on their way to Rome, they brought with them the worst civil war had to offer. It would be a bloody end to a bloody year. The only silver lining was that it would be an end. Vespasian would reign for years, not months, and his sons for years after that. The luck of the Flavians would see to that.

The suicide of Otho had taken everyone by surprise. Friend and foe alike expected the young emperor to fight it out with Vitellius to the bitter end. After going to such extreme lengths to seize power, it was inconceivable that he would simply give up after suffering what could be seen as no more than a minor setback at Pedreacum. But rather than receiving further instructions, the legions that had pledged their loyalty to Otho were simply informed that their leader was dead. And rather than preparing themselves for the next battle, the legions that had pledged their loyalty to Vitellius were simply informed that they had won. No one knew quite what to do next.

Vitellius, though, knew exactly what to do—throw a huge party. The new emperor, not officially designated as such yet, was staying in Lugdunum, the Roman capital of Gaul, when he got the news that Otho was dead. Valens and Caecina were told to make sure their respective armies were in order, and that the enemy was fully subdued, and then they were to make haste to Gaul for an extravagant banquet. When the two generals arrived, they sat on opposite sides of the new emperor at the main table, and everyone got good and drunk, singing each other's praises and mocking the Othonians well into the night.

The excesses of the victory celebration would set the tone for Vitellius's reign, or at least the historical depiction of Vitellius's reign, which may or may not be the same thing. The problem for Vitellius is that none of the ancient historians were on his side. The men who recorded the events of the year of the four emperors were obviously writing after Vespasian had emerged victorious, and I think we all know what they say about who gets to write history. Vespasian would have naturally justified his own actions by repeating the worst rumors about Vitellius's excesses in order to portray himself as a savior, and so Roman scholars became steeped in Vespasian's version of who did what to who, why, and how. Tacitus may have published his account well after the death of Domitian, but his early career was influenced by first Vespasian and then Titus, and it is understandable that he portrayed Vitellius in less than glowing terms. But it was not just Flavian propaganda that Vitellius is up against. Suetonius's father fought with the Othonians at Pedreacum, and if you think that the father had anything good to say to the son about the gluttonous usurper from Germania, well, you haven't read Twelve Caesars. This is all to say that the caricature of Vitellius that has been handed down to us may bear only a passing resemblance to the man himself. That being said, though, it sure is a fun caricature, so let's just roll with it.

It took Vitellius six weeks to wind his way down to Rome, leading his army from the Rhine on a meandering, debauched road trip. With some sixty thousand soldiers, followers, and hangers-on accompanying him, discipline was lax, and the toll taken on the towns they passed high. Along the way, the new emperor detoured to the battlefield at Pedreacum, and pronounced the stench of death that still hung over the field sweet to his nose. He then swung by Otho's modest burial site, and pronounced it a small grave for a small man. Then he went back to his traveling party and got drunk. See, isn't this Vitellius fun?

He finally arrived in Roman June, and had every intention of marching into the capital in full triumphal regalia, but was reminded that it would be in really, really poor form to celebrate victory over his fellow Romans, so he entered the gates dressed in a simple civilian toga instead.

The actual reign of Vitellius is not particularly well documented, but the general consensus is that while Vitellius banqueted four times a day, attended the races, and then slept it off, Valens and Caecina were left in control of the day-to-day operations. Partners in war, however, the two became bitter enemies in peace, and nothing so defined the Vitellian regime as the rivalry between Valens and Caecina. Every appointment, every assignment, every appropriation became a cause worth fighting for. They both stacked the reorganized legions, civil service, and praetorian guard with their own clients, so that every level of every department became a front in their running political war. In the end, Valens would win the war for influence, leading Caecina to famously betray his third emperor in fifteen months.

The Vitellian regime was unable to accomplish that much in their brief time at the helm. They raised some taxes, threw some games, and tried to manage four emperors worth of consular promises in an effort to keep the nobility happy. But between the first battle of Pedreacum in April, and the second in October, it's not like they had a lot of time to work with. The only really significant thing they did upon taking office was to disband the existing praetorian guard, and then reform it, using their own troops, to ensure that all the Othonian loyalists were purged. This was maybe a good idea, and maybe not, but the final upshot was that all the best Vitellian troops were siphoned out of the Rhine legions, so when Caecina headed north to face Antonius' invading army, the force he led was not the same army he had led against Otho. Oh, and all those fired praetorians? When they heard that the legions of the east were promising to topple Vitellius, guess whose banner they all flocked to. So the reformation of the praetorians may have seemed like a good idea at the time, but all it ultimately did was weaken Vitellius and strengthen Vespasian, so yeah, maybe not such a good idea.

Speaking of Vespasian, when we last left him, he was in the process of putting down the great Jewish revolt, specifically contemplating when and how he was going to take Jerusalem. But when news of Nero's suicide arrived, he put the brakes on the campaign, unsure of whether Galba planned to adopt a harsh or lenient posture towards the Jews. Plus, as one of Nero's appointees, he had every reason to fear that Galba would recall him from his post. So he wrote the new emperor a friendly letter, pledging loyalty and requesting instructions. Fearing the worst when Galba ignored his overture, Vespasian sent his twenty-eight-year-old son Titus to Rome to feel Galba out. But before Titus could arrive, he received news of Galba's assassination, and decided to turn back rather than allow himself to become a pawn in the brewing war between Otho and Vitellius. Vespasian commended his son's decision, and then began to mull over what to do. Obviously, he should try to keep himself at arm's length from the conflict between Otho and Vitellius and wait to see how it played out. He was obligated to swear loyalty to Otho, of course, but that did not mean that he had to lift a finger to help him. So Vespasian settled back to wait for further news from the west.

While he waited, though, a thought began to form in his head. Back home, every two-bit general with a legion at his disposal was making his bid for power. What makes them so much more qualified than, you know, me? The future king of the world will come from Judea, the prophecy had said. Vespasian was beginning to think that he could make that prophecy come true. But that is not to say that this was all Vespasian's idea.

Gaius Licinius Musianus, the governor of Syria, had gone as high as he could hope to go in public life under existing conditions, and was dissatisfied with how low a height it was. Stuck in the largely diplomatic post of Syria, he was in danger of passing his whole life without ever tasting military glory, and was determined to rectify that situation. Musianus saw in the mild, capable, and well-liked Vespasian the perfect vehicle for his ambitions. So he became an early prodder of Vespasian's growing ego, and an active supporter once the future emperor finally decided to go for it. The other key prodder of Vespasian was Tiberius Julius Alexander, the Jewish-born prefect of Egypt. Appointed by Nero, events in the west had unfolded too rapidly for either Galba or Otho to replace him, so he and his two legions continued their administration in Alexandria well into Vitellius's reign. Having no love for Vitellius, and knowing full well that the new emperor would likely replace him, and possibly execute him at the first opportunity, Alexander began a secret correspondence with Vespasian, pledging his support and his legions, if Vespasian decided to, you know, do something. The two legions were nice, but the real prize here was that Egypt was still a key agricultural engine of the empire. Any invasion of Italy that was coupled with a strangling off of the grain supply did not necessarily guarantee victory, see Antony, Mark, but it sure upped the percentages by a healthy margin.

Both Musianus and Alexander were ready to declare for Vespasian immediately, but the future emperor was a deliberate man, and as spring turned to summer, he had still not yet announced whether or not he was going to lead the armies of the east in revolt. The impatient Alexander decided Vespasian just needed a swift kick to get going, so the prefect of Egypt went ahead and administered an oath of loyalty to Vespasian to his legions on July 1. A few days later, Vespasian's armies in Judea heard the news, and when their general emerged from his tent, a collection of them casually hailed him as emperor. With the cat now out of the bag, Vespasian decided to let it roam free. On July 15, Musianus administered the oath to the legions of Syria and went to work convincing the legions in the Balkans to join them. In the process of being punished by Vitellius for their support of Otho, the troops in the Balkans were more than happy to join in the fight. In short order, Vespasian had the whole of the eastern empire lined up behind him.

Vitellius, meanwhile, was still taking his victory lap. The Flavian plan was for Vespasian to remain behind in the east while Musianus led an invasion of the west. Taking up residence in Alexandria, Vespasian would be able to personally oversee the all-important province of Egypt while remaining perfectly situated to reinforce his invasion force should they need support. After receiving assurances from the Parthians that they would not stir up trouble along the border, Musianus set out west with a force of about 18,000 troops. Along the way, he was supposed to pick up the Balkan legions, and then, when he got near Italy, put out the call to the demobilized Othonian troops to flock to Vespasian's banner. But things did not exactly go according to plan.

The commanders of the five legions stationed in the Balkans were eager to take their revenge on Vitellius, but not as eager as the troops themselves. The officers stated flatly that the plan was to wait for Musianus, so that's what they were going to do. Seeing an opportunity to bathe himself in glory, though, Marcus Antonius Primus broke with his colleagues and argued that they should immediately invade Italy while the Vitellian troops were still drunk with victory. The troops couldn't have agreed more and elected Antonius their new general. Instead of waiting for Musianus to arrive, Antonius went off the reservation and led the legions now under his command into Italy. In other words, the army that ultimately won the war for Vespasian was never authorized to do what it did.

When Vitellius learned that a Flavian army was marching on Italy, he dispatched Caecina to stop their advance. The emperor no doubt would have sent Valens as well, but the elder general was recovering from an illness at the time and was unable to make the trip. For Caecina, this presented a golden opportunity. In the months since he had helped Vitellius become emperor, the young noble had found himself increasingly ignored while Valens emerged as the far more influential advisor. Whenever Valens and Caecina disagreed over some issue or another, Vitellius generally backed Valens. Deeply unhappy with his position, Caecina marched north at the head of the Vitellian legions thinking deeply not about battle plans, but whether or not he should defect to Vespasian. He had already been in contact with the commander of the Vitellian naval fleet stationed at Ravenna and the commander there had assured Caecina that he was going over to Vespasian at the first opportunity. Caecina, he said, should join him on the winning team.

Vitellius arrived in Italy with his advance guard in October, and was greeted by a much stronger force led by Caecina. But rather than attack as his men expected, Caecina opened negotiations with Antonius, hinting elliptically that he was willing to betray Vitellius if the terms were right. While he negotiated, the rest of Antonius' troops arrived, negating the numerical advantage that the Vitellians had once had, leading the men under Caecina's command to wonder just what their general was up to. Not long after that, though, they got their answer. Messengers arrived with the news that the Ravenna fleet had defected to Vespasian. Caecina called together his officers, and announced that it was hopeless to fight the Flavian onslaught. The whole empire was turning against Vitellius, and they had better join the winning side before they all found their heads on the chopping block. He managed to convince the officers, but when the regular troops learned of the betrayal, they stormed the tent and threw the shocked and sputtering Caecina into chains. The men elected new generals, and abandoned the position they had held near Antonius' base in Verona. Antonius woke up the next morning, and discovered the army he thought was about to join him had suddenly disappeared into the night. But not one to delay, Antonius marched straight away for Pedreacum, where he planned to make a camp from which to launch an assault on Cremona, the Vitellian base of operations in North Italy. Caecina's army had already made for Cremona following their general's aborted defection, and now waited nervously for Antonius to arrive.

In a few days, the two sides would meet in one of the rarest sights in the ancient world, a night battle. Marching in from the east on October 24, Antonius' army was disrupted by a Vitellian cavalry attack, and a brief skirmish ensued that saw the Vitellians driven off. The Flavian army kept marching, but they were unable to reach the full Vitellian force until late in the afternoon. Flush with victory, the Flavians refused to retire from the field. For their part, the Vitellians were so close to the safety of Cremona, that they figured that if things got too hairy, they could just make a run for it, so they too refused to retire for the evening. For the next ten hours, the two armies fought a sporadic and bloody battle through the night, but it was still undecided when the sun rose the next morning. In a quirky twist of fate, though, the Vitellians lost heart when they saw one of the Flavian legions turn east and clearly greet the arrival of reinforcements. Exhausted from the battle, the Vitellians fled back to the safety of Cremona to wait for their own reinforcements. Except that there were no Flavian reinforcements. Having spent years stationed in the east, the legion in question had adopted a local custom of greeting the sun as it rose each morning. At the second battle of Badreachem, the Vitellians were finally defeated not by force, but by a completely harmless religious ritual.

Despite their own exhaustion, Antonius' army closed the last few miles to Cremona and laid siege to the city that morning. First they destroyed the Vitellian camp outside the walls, and then they launched a ferocious assault on the city itself. While the troops and citizens of the city fought off the attack, the officers of the Vitellian army lost hope. They set Cassino loose and begged him to negotiate a peace that would spare their lives. With the leadership of the army protecting them giving up, the civilian leadership of Cremona opened their own talks, and in short order both the Vitellian legions and the people of Cremona emerged from the city to stand before the victorious Flavians. It was supposed to be a peaceful settlement, one with no sacking. But the tired, bloody, and angry Flavian troops were in no mood to be denied the loot they saw as rightfully theirs. They believed that they had been promised Cremona as a prize for the extreme effort they had just expended in taking it, but it seemed that the officers were now conspiring to deny them their prize. So when Antonius entered the city to take a hot bath, his absence allowed the restraint of his army to slip. Forty thousand troops poured into Cremona, grabbing anything that wasn't nailed down and setting fire to the rest.

When Vespasian learned what had happened, he denounced the actions of Antonius' army, and as emperor he tried to rebuild the city, but it would never again rise to the prominence it had enjoyed since its founding just before the Second Punic War. The battle may not have marked the official end of the war, but it certainly dealt a heavy blow to Vitellius' chances. From this point on, practically everything pointed to an emperor destined to fall.

Valens had been ordered north about a week after Caecina's departure, but his sluggish pace left him far from Cremona when he learned first of Caecina's attempted defection, and then the sack of the city itself. He changed direction and tried to make for Gaul, where he would be able to raise reinforcements. But by this point, practically every governor in the area was pledging allegiance to Vespasian. Valens was captured at sea by former members of Otho's Praetorian Guard, and then sent along to Antonius as a gift-wrap present. Soon enough, Valens' head would be waved before the Vitellian troops as proof that further resistance was futile. Caecina and Valens had been the driving force behind Vitellius' bid for power, and now one of them had turned on him, and the other was dead. The emperor did not know what to do.

He marched out of Rome with most of his new Praetorian Guard to make a stand, but upon hearing about more defections throughout the empire, he returned to Rome with half the troops at his disposal, leaving the rest in place to halt the advance of Antonius. As the Flavian army marched south, both Musianus and Antonius opened up correspondence with Vitellius in an attempt to secure his abdication. They promised him his life, money, and a villa in Campania if he agreed to give up the throne willingly. Vitellius, in way over his head, was eager for the opportunity to get out of all this with his life, so he took up negotiations with Vespasian's brother Flavius Sabinus, who was living in Rome at the time. But Vitellius' attempt to abdicate was thwarted by his own supporters.

On December 18, the emperor gave a speech announcing that he was stepping down, much to the dismay of the loyal troops he still had with him. They had all staked their lives to this man, and now he was simply going to give up? Where did that leave them? So as Vitellius attempted to leave the forum, he was boxed in by members of his own Praetorian Guard and marched back to the palace, his resignation annulled by the tip of a spear. Sabinus was at home when he heard of Vitellius' attempted resignation, and he immediately headed down to the forum with an armed guard, to issue a proclamation in his brother's name. But along the way, he was surprised to find that the Vitellians had not in fact given up. A brief skirmish broke out, and Sabinus was driven up onto the Capitoline Hill, where he and his men barricaded themselves. Over the course of a night and a day, the Vitellian forces attempted to dislodge Sabinus, and in the process, the Temple of Jupiter, one of the most important temples in Rome, was burned to the ground. With the fire raging, the men who had surrounded Sabinus deserted him, and he was eventually captured by the Vitellians and executed. The execution of Vespasian's brother precluded all future negotiations.

The army of Antonius, now only miles from Rome, learned of the incident and made straight away for the city. At first, Antonius hesitated, understandably nervous, that attacking Rome itself would irreparably damage Vespasian's, and his own, reputation to the point that even a victory would be a defeat. But his men convinced him that they ought not balk now that the empire was in their hands. Antonius divided his army into thirds, and attacked at three different gates. Two of the gates were easily breached, as they were only guarded by an untrained mix of civilian militia. But the fighting at the Coligne gate was intense. The outnumbered Vitellians were eventually pressed back, and forced to make a last stand within the Praetorian camp. But despite heavy casualties, the Flavians finally breached the walls, led by the former members of Otho's Praetorian Guard, who viewed reclaiming the camp as a matter of personal honor.

Vitellius was now all alone. His attempt to give up had failed, and he wandered the deserted imperial palace in shock, trying to figure out what to do next. Eventually the incoming Flavian army stumbled upon him, and took him prisoner. They marched him blubbering through the streets to the Steps of Lamentation, where he was unceremoniously beheaded as insults rained down upon him. His head was paraded through the city as a trophy, and his body thrown in the Tiber. Vitellius was fifty-four years old when he died, and had reigned for just over nine months. His death would bring a violent close to a violent year.

On the 20th of September, the Senate met, and unanimously declared Vespasian Emperor. It would be understandable if the no-doubt skittish citizens of the Empire were a bit skeptical that this really was an end to the chaos. But as the months passed into years, and no other pretender to the throne arose, they began to get comfortable with the idea that things had sort of returned to normal. That they could fully embrace this new dynasty. The Flavian Dynasty.

Before we go this week, I just want to mention that Lars Brownworth, whose book I just recommended you buy, is in the process of gauging interest for a lecture tour in early 2010. Since we have so many listeners in common, they've asked me to ask you if anyone in and around Boston, New York, Washington DC, Chicago, and San Francisco would be interested in such a thing. I'm also going to add Austin, Texas to the list, because that's where I live now and I think he should come down here. I'll post some links at thehistoryofrome.typepad.com so that you can either email superfan Detlef with your thoughts, or sound off at the forum Galorum, the discussion community for the History of Rome that Detlef has set up.