075 - The Forgotten Son

Hello, and welcome to the History of Rome, Episode 75, The Forgotten Son. First of all, sorry for last week's cliffhanger ending. Somehow the final cut got truncated when I wasn't looking. Luckily, or maddeningly or something, it only dropped the last 8 words. So for those of you who haven't gone back and downloaded the corrected version, which is posted by the way, I'll just go ahead and spoil the ending. Senatorial historians were doing their best to confine Domitian to the dustbin of history, then the music plays. That was all that was left. Sorry about that.

But as much as the Senate tried to literally purge Domitian from the collective consciousness, passing an edict damning his memory just days after the Emperor was assassinated, and then proceeding to expunge his name from public records and monuments, Domitian reigned for too long and had too much of an impact to simply be ignored. So failing to erase his memory completely, sympathetic historians of senatorial rank ran a fairly uniform smear campaign against him that was picked up and promulgated by later church scholars who further identified the evil Domitian as an early prosecutor of Christians. For the better part of 1800 years, the perception that Domitian was one of the worst emperors in Roman history persisted. But in the 20th century, his memory has been rehabilitated some, most notably by Brian Jones' The Emperor Domitian, and he is now understood to be an undeniably autocratic ruler, but one who was far more effective and rational than early sources give him credit for.

Titus Flavius Domitianus was born on October 24, 51 AD, the youngest son of the year's newly elected consul Vespasian. For the first few years, the Flavian nuclear family was strong and stable. Vespasian withdrew from public life following the rise of Agrippina, and was around to supervise the upbringing of his three children, Titus, who was twelve years Domitian's senior, daughter Domitilla, six years older, and Domitian himself. But as was sometimes typical in Roman families, while Vespasian took a keen interest in his eldest son's education, and a keen interest in finding his daughter a husband, he did not take much interest at all in his youngest son. Not that Domitian did not receive a first-rate education, just that by the time he was born, Titus was almost an adult, and Vespasian naturally looked at the older boy as the bearer of his legacy. Domitian, unfortunately, became little more than an afterthought in his father's eyes.

Titus was shipped off to Germania to begin his public career when Domitian was seven, and a few years later Vespasian accepted a governorship in North Africa, leaving the twelve-year-old Domitian at home with his mother and sister, and he naturally grew much closer to them than the two men to whom he is historically connected. But by the time his father and brother left for Judea in 66 AD, both women were dead. The causes of death are unknown, but they left the fifteen-year-old Domitian virtually alone in the world, and during this period he developed a penchant for solitude, a very un-Roman-like trait that would be inevitably pointed out by his enemies as they ticked off all the things that made the monster Domitian such an abomination. Where's Domitian, someone would ask. Alone in the palace would come the witty reply, with not even a fly. Of course, this joke worked doubly well, because it was rumored that Domitian liked to sit around and stab flies with a penknife, but that is neither here nor there.

The virtually orphaned Domitian was handed off to Vespasian's brother Flavius Sabinus, and he was still living in his uncle's home when the events of 68 and 69 AD swept across the empire. When it comes to contrasting the roots of the generous and positive reigns of Vespasian and Titus with the jealous and negative reign of Domitian, one can look, obviously, to the circumstances of his upbringing and the humiliating slights he would receive under the reign of his father, and one would be right to do so. But there is another little thing that no doubt colored Domitian's whole worldview. He was actually physically present in Rome during the last mad days of Nero, then the massacres that greeted the arrival of Galba, then the violent coup orchestrated by Otho, then the occupation of the city by Vitellius' Rhine legions, and then, finally, the sacking of Rome by Antonius' army. Not only did he endure the paranoia of being related to a prominent politician at a time when standing out was likely to get you purged by the capricious Nero or the scheming pedagogues, but he also saw up close and personal just how readily the Senate swung with the political breeze and how much that political breeze was blown by violence. Every time some usurper got the upper hand, the Senate was right there to retroactively justify their most heinous crimes. One minute they were praising you to the stars, the next they were hailing your assassins as state heroes. The Senate as a body had many characteristics, but loyalty to the sitting Emperor was clearly not one of them, and it was a lesson Domitian would not soon forget. He spent his latter teenage years surrounded by backstabbers, plotters, and the Senators who enabled them.

It should come as no surprise, then, that in contrast to his laid-back father and brother, Emperor Domitian would rule with a strong and vigilant hand, and do everything he could to enfeeble the Senate, who he knew full well would turn on him the minute he looked away. Ironically, of course, this paranoid disposition would become a self-fulfilling prophecy, and the Flavian most worried about assassination would be the only one to die a violent death. Life's funny that way.

As the son of a prominent Neronian general, Domitian had lived into 69 AD as a sort of unofficial political hostage, but when Vespasian launched his own bid for the throne, the target on Domitian's back threatened to overwhelm the young man. By the time Vitellius arrived in the city, Vespasian's eastern revolt was well underway, and the Vitellians were quick to locate their rival's youngest son and place him under house arrest. Vitellius hoped that by keeping Domitian hostage, Vespasian would think twice about his plans, but of course, Antonius' aggressive invasion of Italy took the decision out of Vespasian's hands completely, though whether he would have let Vitellius' threats to harm Domitian deter him is still an open question. When Vitellius attempted to abdicate the throne, Domitian was freed from his confinement and accompanied his uncle Sabinus as the latter marched to the Forum to deliver a message on Vespasian's behalf. This meant that Domitian was with his uncle when the Flavian entourage ran into the still defiant Vitellians and fought in the ensuing street fight that drove the Flavians up onto the Capitoline Hill. When it was clear that the impromptu siege was not going to end well, Domitian was snuck off the hill dressed as an adherent of the cult of Isis. He slipped into a passing religious procession and escaped the fate of his less fortunate uncle.

When Antonius' army smashed their way into Rome a few days later, Domitian was liberated from his hiding place and hailed as Caesar by the triumphant Flavian troops, who carried the eighteen-year-old on a shield to his father's house. Suddenly, the boy who had always been relegated to the background found himself standing right smack dab in the middle of everything. But his time in the limelight was short-lived. When Musianus arrived in the city, he quickly co-opted Domitian and relegated the boy to a closely guarded ceremonial position. As the son of Vespasian, he had enormous value and was assigned the task of representing his father's interests in the Senate. But he was kept away from real power, and any Flavian supporter who seemed inclined to back Domitian over Musianus was rapidly promoted away to positions in the provinces. While he waited for his father to arrive, Domitian dutifully attended sessions of the Senate and spoke on his father's behalf, and it was very likely that during these formative months that the future Emperor Domitian's disdain for the body cemented itself. There was no escaping the fact that the Senate had no real authority and seemed driven by nothing so much as the vanity of old men. Domitian endured their endless speeches, all the while longing to get out of this sideshow and on to the main stage.

Like most young men of his age and ambition, Domitian craved the opportunity to prove himself in the field of battle. He had tried to talk his father into taking him to Judea at the outset of the Jewish revolt, but this request was dismissed out of hand. He was far too young and would only get in the way. By the time he was old enough to join the legions in his own right, the whole empire was turned upside down and Domitian was forced to sit on the sidelines while the rest of his family bathed themselves in military glory. With his father now Emperor, Domitian was sure to be granted a position somewhere in the legions, if not a command then at least something close to it. The Batavian revolt offered the perfect opportunity and Domitian jumped at the chance to join Mucianus as the imperial administrator raised reinforcements to lead north to crush the rebellion. Mucianus was hesitant to put the boy in charge of troops, not just because he was totally inexperienced but also because he would become a dangerous rival for the army's loyalty. Fortunately for Mucianus and unfortunately for Domitian, the revolt was put down before the armies from Rome got anywhere near the front lines and the unfulfilled Domitian was returned to Rome. Sensing that Mucianus did not perhaps have his best interests at heart, Domitian wrote a letter directly to the commander of the Rhine legions, who just so happened to be his uncle-in-law, asking for a command, but his uncle essentially ignored the request.

When Vespasian arrived in Rome later that year, Domitian then was still stuck, shut out of political power, and denied a military post. The young man may have hoped that the arrival of his father would correct this situation, but it was apparent from the get-go that Vespasian had no interest in raising Domitian out of his glum irrelevancy. Despite being one of only two sons, Domitian was treated with remarkable indifference by Vespasian, who, like always, seemed to only have eyes for Titus. In fact, when Titus returned from the East and Vespasian granted his eldest son a triumph, Domitian was forced to trail behind the vanguard led by his father and brother, relegated to the spot reserved for other family members. This would prove to be Domitian's lot in life for the remainder of his father's decade in office. Where Titus was granted near co-equal status with Vespasian, Domitian was assigned only ceremonial positions. Aside from being trotted out every once in a while to preside over some archaic ceremony or another, Domitian faded completely from public view. He spent most of his time in the imperial palace, reading and writing, and generally resigning himself to the life of obscure scholarship that he seemed destined for.

In fact, if it hadn't have been for the influence of Titus, Domitian likely would not have been allowed any practical governmental experience at all before attaining the throne for himself in 81 AD. Though he had never been close to his so much younger brother, Titus seemed at least aware of Domitian's existence. Not to get off on too much of a tangent, but by the time of the imperial period, consulships still existed, but they were no longer the yearly affairs that they had been during the Republican era. In order to satisfy the many grasping elites who all clamored to add consul to their list of public accomplishments, the consulship turned into an office held for months and sometimes even days. The most prestigious slot was to begin the year in office, as the Roman dating system still named the years after the consuls in office on January 1st. These men were called the consuls ordinarii, and once they had served for a few months, they often resigned in favor of new candidates who were known as suffet consuls. Vespasian assigned Titus to seven ordinarii consulships during his time in office, while granting Domitian only one. But aware that his brother needed much more practical experience than this, Titus ensured that when he resigned from his consulships that Domitian took over as suffet consul, bringing his younger brother's total to a less prestigious, but still respectable, six consulships.

I think the main difference between Vespasian and Titus' attitude towards Domitian is that the former was an old man who felt that the issue of succession was a done deal, and beyond Titus he didn't really have to worry about it, while the much younger and sonless Titus still had to consider the possibility that Domitian would don the purple one day.

While Domitian got absolutely nowhere with his father when it came to career advancement, he was able to get his way when it came to his private life. He warded off a plot hatched by Vespasian to marry him off to Titus' daughter to ensure the purity of the dynasty, and in 70 AD he married the woman he loved, Domitia Longia. The match may not have been the one Vespasian wanted, but politically it was an excellent pairing. Domitia was the youngest daughter of the great general Corbulo, who had spent his life in service to the empire, and had been rewarded by Nero with an order to commit suicide. Connecting the Flavians to this great senatorial family raised the profile of both, and established the Flavians as a family of anti-Nero's, and signaling to those who had previously opposed the imperial regimes of the past that they could find a home in this new dynasty. Beyond the political upside, the marriage seemed to be a happy one, and despite a brief hiccup shortly after Domitian became emperor, the two remained devoted to each other for the rest of their lives.

Just as he had hoped the arrival of Vespasian in Rome would deliver him from powerless obscurity, Domitian held out similar hopes when his brother ascended to the throne in 79 AD. But just as before, Domitian was disappointed. This time the snub was more acutely felt, as Titus had specifically promised him a greater role in government once he became emperor. Now in Titus' defense it may have been that he was fully planning on following through with his promise, and died before he could take any concrete steps, but for the two years he reigned, Domitian's status changed very little. It is at this point in the story that the ancient historians really start to get their digs in on the man they so loved to hate, casting Domitian as an undisciplined and scheming cad who did everything in his limited power to undermine his handsome and wonderful brother. Suetonius even paints a scene in which Titus, after discovering that Domitian has been plotting against his life yet again, confronts his brother and pleads with him to remain an honorable partner, reminding him that at this point he is Titus' chosen successor, so there was no need for shifty violence. Following the sudden death of Emperor Titus, rumors were dutifully handed around that Domitian had a hand in the tragedy, and, even if he hadn't killed his brother, he certainly proved himself to be unworthy of the Flavian name and his conduct immediately following his brother's fatal illness. Rather than taking the time to mourn his brother properly, Domitian instead left the corpse behind and hurried to the Praetorian camp to have himself hailed Emperor.

However it really happened, and however much he really felt the loss of his older brother, it is true that on September 14, 81 A.D., just a day after Titus died, Domitian called a session of the Senate and was confirmed as Augustus. The forgotten son of Vespasian was now master of the Roman Empire.

As I have mentioned, Domitian arrived in office with a very different idea about how to wield power than any of his predecessors. The Julio-Claudians, even the craziest of them, had always followed in Augustus' footsteps and pretended that the mechanisms of the old republic still had power. Vespasian and Titus had both continued this tradition, not seeing any reason to upset a political apple cart that had so recently been set right. But Domitian had no use for this play-acting. His experience had taught him that the Senate was an ineffective partner at best and a dangerous threat to the imperial peace at worst. The republic had been dead for more than a century, there was no use pretending otherwise. All that Rome required was an enlightened despot to guide the ship of state wisely, and placating the Senate was an unnecessary and inefficient distraction from the kind of enlightened despotism the empire needed to flourish. Not lacking in ambition or ego, Domitian decided to model his new administration on no less a figure than the greatest enlightened despot of them all, the divine Augustus. But though Domitian's policies would prove themselves to be clearly Augustan in both scope and quality, in the end he completely missed the insight that had made Augustus so successful. Rather than publicly castrating the Senate, the first emperor had obsessively maintained the charade of democracy, knowing full well that giving a little publicly meant getting a lot privately. In contrast, Domitian dragged the ugly realities of imperial rule right out into the open, and very loudly concentrated all power in the imperial palace, refusing to even pay lip service to the self-important windbags down in the Senate House. Where Augustus had styled himself as princeps, merely your first citizen, Domitian preferred Domitian, your lord and god.

One could argue that the unsentimental administration set up by Domitian was more efficient than the touchy-feely charade of Augustus, but what one cannot argue is that when Augustus died they made him a god, and his name became synonymous with supreme authority, whereas when Domitian died they toppled his statues and damned his name. But despite his ultimately fatal unwillingness to play act, in every other way Domitian sought to emulate Rome's first and greatest emperor. In the breadth of his interests and the depths of his management, Domitian sought to usher in nothing less than an Augustan renaissance.

First up on his list of things to do was to reaffirm the divine status of the Caesars. The recent civil wars had perhaps given some the idea that donning the purple was simply a matter of controlling the strongest army or the sneakiest assassins. Domitian wanted to remind everyone that the imperial dynasties were divinely ordained, and that the past emperors were nothing less than gods themselves. If you're thinking about making a bid for the throne, just ask yourself, are you a god? Or are you descended from a god? If not, then you'd better just pack it up right now. So his first official act as emperor was to push through an edict deifying his deceased brother Titus to join his already deified father. But unlike Titus's push to have Vespasian deified, Domitian refused to submit himself to the plotting of the Senate, who had only approved godhood for Vespasian six months after the latter's death. Domitian had no patience for such stalling, and simply declared the divinity of his brother without waiting for senatorial approval. His total abandonment of protocol was the opening salvo in Domitian's running war on the obsolete institution.

The new emperor then set to work, closely tying himself not to the Senate, but to the gods. He finished the rebuild of the Temple of Jupiter, adding splendid flourishes that were sure to please the king of the gods, and then set to work building a lesser shrine to Jupiter the Protector in the home that he had hidden himself in during the final dark days of Vitellius's reign. Capping off this initial flurry of religious monument building, Domitian completed the Temple of Vespasian and Titus, where the people of Rome would be encouraged to actively worship his deceased, and now divine, father and brother. Domitian's point was clear. The emperor was not the first among equals. He was nothing less than the god's appointed representative on earth.

With the gods firmly in his corner, Domitian then set about reorganizing how the state went about its daily business. He unceremoniously stripped the Senate of all practical authority, and ensured that they were cut out of the decision-making process completely. No more debates, no more delays, no more humoring long-irrelevant elites. If the emperor wanted something done, he was just going to order it done, and that was that. The Senate was shocked that the new emperor refused them even the slightest consideration, and they quickly grew to despise him. This was fine with Domitian, as he really didn't care what they thought. He had an empire to run, and tiptoeing around the sensitivities of rich old men was not how he planned to spend his days.

But as much as this embittered the elites, the common people loved it. Because though Domitian was every bit the dictatorial autocrat, he seemed focused on weeding out corruption and streamlining the tax code and making things fairer, not wallowing in his own hedonism. The corrupt upper classes had been growing fat for years while the emperors had turned a blind eye. Now it seemed that the bill was finally coming due. But this is not to say that Domitian was some fire-breathing populist like Julius Caesar had been. He was not on a crusade for social justice. He just saw the nobility as far more of a hindrance than a help when it came to administrative work, and so he cut them loose. What Domitian was looking for was hard-working, loyal, conscientious, and honest administrators to help him govern, and the senatorial class did not seem particularly well-stocked with any of these types. Sweeping aside the old order, Domitian instead elevated men of the lower-ranking equestrian class to positions they never would have been considered for in another administration. This not only filled the government with men of merit, it also filled the government with men intensely loyal to Domitian, to whom they owed their jobs, their lives, and their careers. The new emperor's zeal for eschewing the hereditary politics of the past even extended to his own family. Breaking with every imperial tradition in the book, Domitian abandoned nepotism, refusing to fill key positions with family members just because they were family members. If they could do the job, then they could have the job, but being a relative of the emperor was no longer a free pass.

Despite his lack of experience and the low regard his own father seems to have held him in, Domitian was in fact turning out to be a bold and innovative emperor. Eventually of course, his flagrant disregard for elite opinion would come back to haunt him, but for the time being, Emperor Domitian was successfully reinventing the office he held. Through his reforms, including his decision to declare himself censor in perpetuity so he could control the senatorial roles and expel members who opposed him, the seat of power in the empire was now no longer Rome itself. Domitian famously moved around more than any other emperor since Augustus, and wherever he went, he brought the imperial court with him. This subtle shift was a big deal in the politics of the empire. When Tiberius had absented himself to Capri, the politics of the time required him to rely on a man in Rome to run the government. It was understood that while the emperor may have left, Rome was still where the action was. By contrast, when Domitian absented himself to Gaul or to Illyricum or to Moesia, it was understood that power went with him.

Next time, we'll get more into what Domitian did with all the power he was so jealously hoarding, and why he was traveling the empire more than any emperor since Augustus. There will be no episode next week, as it is Thanksgiving here in the United States, but we'll be back in two weeks, ready to dive headlong into Domitian's everlasting quest for military glory, and his ever-annoying need to control every little detail of Roman life.