133 - The Milvian Bridge

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Hello, and welcome to the History of Rome, episode 133, The Milvian Bridge. Last week, we laid the groundwork for Constantine's showdown with Maxentius, a showdown that would culminate with the epic Battle of the Milvian Bridge. A battle that has gone down as one of the most important in world history. As momentous an event as it was, though, it is important to keep in mind that at the time, there was absolutely no indication that the battle would take on such enormous significance down the road. At the time, it was just another clash in the Tetrarchy's running civil war, a clash fought between two ambitious men who wielded a great deal of power and wanted to wield a great deal more. It was not yet seen as a monumental battle between Christianity and Paganism, and Constantine's victory was not yet being painted as the inevitable victory of God over the gods.

Constantine's victory over Maxentius was a big deal. After all, it left him in sole control of the Western Empire. But it was a big deal only in the limited sense of how much it strengthened his position relative to Maximinus Dia and Licinius, his partner's end-slash-rival's forepower. Had things turned out differently, that is, had Constantine not eventually wound up on top, the fact that prior to some ultimately irrelevant battle he had his men paint some random symbol on their shields would not have mattered at all. But he did wind up on top, and so it does matter. And because down the road the Battle of the Milvian Bridge will be pointed to as the moment when the Christianization of the Western world really got going, it matters a lot.

Nowhere was the non-inevitability of Constantine's victory more acutely felt than in his inner circle. Having determined that the best way to handle Maxentius would be to remain in Gaul, there was much consternation in the spring of 312 as they found themselves instead organizing the invasion of Italy. Anything they felt could have played more into Maxentius's hands. Constantine's forces would be numerically inferior, they would be fighting on Maxentius's turf, and perhaps most importantly of all, they would be giving Maxentius a chance to win before his domestic political troubles had a chance to bring him down without Constantine needing to lift a finger. Because word on the street was that the Romans were not as hot on Maxentius as they had once been. The masses had supported him initially because they basically supported anyone who brought the bread and circuses, but years of estrangement from Africa and the consequent disruption of the bread part of that equation had more or less soured the mob on their emperor. The aristocracy had backed him initially because they believed that he would help restore their ancient privileges, but instead he was taxing them harder and faster than the Tetrarchy had.

In Maxentius's defense, he had an army to pay for and a government to pay for and infrastructure projects to pay for, and unlike emperors past he wasn't able to offset these costs with provincial taxes. But still, after five years in power, he had pretty much alienated all of his subjects. Now it should be obvious why he had an army to pay for and a government to pay for, but what of these infrastructure projects of which you speak? If heavy taxation was threatening his political position, why indulge in public works projects? The answer is that Maxentius thought that he was actually shoring up his political position rather than undermining it. It had been a long time since an emperor, or whatever Maxentius was, had taken a keen interest in the architectural well-being of the capital, and Maxentius figured that that meant he had a golden opportunity to put his own stamp on the Eternal City, provide excellent new public spaces for the population, and leave future generations remembering how great and wonderful Maxentius had been. And though that last bit had to take a detour through Constantine's co-option of all these projects following the Battle of the Milvian Bridge, Maxentius was successful in making his stamp on the Eternal City permanent, as visitors to the Forum still marvel today at the remains of the Basilica of Maxentius, one of the largest freestanding buildings the Romans ever built.

But though in the long run his projects were seen as a net positive, right now they were too much drain and not enough gain, leaving many of the elites in Rome not exactly adverse to the idea of a Constantine victory. This, coupled with the lingering resentment of the masses who were still angry about the food shortages, left Maxentius in a precarious position politically. Which is why Constantine's advisors wanted to wait and let nature take its course. But Constantine was determined to invade, possibly because he knew that God was on his side.

Leaving the majority of his troops behind to keep an eye on the frontiers, Constantine marched through the Alps in the spring of 312 with a force of about 40,000 men, representing roughly one quarter of all his available troops. But, critically, less than half of the 100,000-man army Maxentius had at his disposal. So it's a good thing God was on his side, because otherwise Constantine's plan looked a little kooky. But God was not the only thing Constantine had on his side. His 40,000 men were highly trained veteran soldiers, mostly German and intensely loyal to Constantine. By contrast, Maxentius' 100,000 men were mostly raw recruits, whose loyalty to Maxentius was dubious at best. So maybe Constantine wasn't resting all his hopes on the grace of God.

The first Italian city Constantine hid on the east side of the Alps was a fortified town called Segucium, and though it made a show of resisting, there was very little they could do, and soon they were at Constantine's mercy. But after burning down the gate and capturing the town, Constantine demonstrated to everyone, friend and foe alike, exactly what kind of conqueror he planned to be, and he ordered his men to refrain from any plundering. This, of course, stood in stark contrast to Galerius' punitive march through Italy back in 307. Constantine was trying to win a military campaign, yes, but winning the political campaign was even more important. In the opening skirmish of the war then, he had scored a minor victory in the former, but a huge victory in the latter, a victory that would lay the groundwork for the rest of the campaign.

The first significant fighting took place a bit further east, near the modern city of Torino, where a formidable contingent of Maxentius' cavalry pounced on Constantine's marching army. But Constantine was able to successfully flank them, and Maxentius' forces were driven off. The defeated horsemen made for Torino, but the inhabitants of the city refused to open the gates to them, forcing Maxentius' men out of the region completely. Constantine then marched unchallenged to Milan, where the gates were thrown open and he was welcomed by a cheering crowd. Yes, the military war was going fine, but the political war was going great. Constantine then remained in Milan for a bit, consolidating his position and resting his men, because though it had been pretty easy going so far, no one had any illusions that the going was going to stay this easy.

The first real test came in mid-summer, when Constantine advanced east to face Maxentius' main forward army, led by the capable Praetorian prefect Rerichius Pompeianus, the same man who had been dispatched to Africa to take down Domitius Alexander. Rerichius had hold up in the modern city of Verona, which was easily defensible as it was bounded on three sides by a river, and he was essentially daring Constantine to try and dislodge him. Constantine took the dare, and sent a detachment of men around north of the city, with orders to cross the river unnoticed and slip over the relatively under-garrisoned north wall. However, Rerichius was alerted to the maneuver, and sent a force in to quash the attempt. But his much larger force was somehow defeated by Constantine's small expedition. This is about the time when God really starts to enter the equation, because Constantine is about to make a habit of winning despite being vastly outnumbered. Then again, maybe it was just a matter of the relative quality of the soldiers on each side. Then again, maybe it was just luck.

Thwarted in his initial surprise attack, Constantine decided to follow up with the opposite approach. He surrounded the city completely, and settled in for a good old-fashioned siege. Thinking fast, Rerichius slipped out of the city before the clampdown was complete, and made his way south to collect a relief force. The idea would be to bring this force up, make Constantine break away from the siege to face them, and allow the army inside Verona to come pouring out, trapping Constantine between the two armies and hopefully destroying him. But as the relief army neared the city, Rerichius discovered that Constantine was refusing to break off the siege, and instead had sent what appeared to be only a token resistance force to halt his march. Okay, so much the better then. Now we get to trap him right against the city walls. That'll work too. And here's where God shows his hand again. Or maybe just where Constantine's soldiers show that they are just flat out better again. Or maybe more luck.

Constantine's defense force met Rerichius' much larger relief army, and after a hotly contested fight, utterly routed them. Rerichius himself was killed in the battle. The soldiers left inside Verona, now leaderless and demoralized, decided there was no use resisting anymore, and opened the gates to the seemingly invincible Constantine. In short order, envoys from all the major northern Italian cities, including Aquileia and Ravenna, arrived in Constantine's camp to announce their surrender. Yes, things were going just fine for Constantine. But he still had one major obstacle to overcome. And this was the obstacle that had broken first Severus and then Galerius. Rome itself. The walls of the city had not gotten any shorter or any thinner since those two previous emperors had made their attempt, nor was the city any less garrisoned or any less provisioned. A siege seemed hopeless, and there was no way on God's green earth that Maxentius was going to come out and offer battle. Not when he could sit tight inside the city and wait for Constantine to give up. So what exactly is the plan here? I guess march on Rome and see what happens next?

Well aware that Constantine was now on his way, Maxentius ordered all the bridges spanning the Tiber demolished, which would not necessarily stop Constantine's advance, but it would slow him down. Except that Constantine was in no hurry. Knowing he was in full control of northern Italy, he marched south at a snail's pace, letting each passing day add luster to the aura of inevitability he was now bathed in. As summer gave way to fall, the residents of every city, town, and farm Constantine passed cheered him and wished him well and hailed him as emperor. With the anticipation now killing them, the citizens of Rome grew restless, and demonstrations began to break out, culminating with a pro-Constantinian chant at a set of chariot races Maxentius was overseeing. This all had the intended effect, and Maxentius began to seriously worry about his ability to hold out against a siege. The citizens had been with him when he fought Severus and Galerius, but right now the city looked like it was ready to welcome Constantine with open arms. Plus, behind closed doors, it was well known that the city was not in fact as well supplied as it had been before, as the years of estrangement with Africa had taken their toll on the imperial stockpiles as much as they had the free grain dole.

All of this had led Maxentius to contemplate a course of action that no one thought he would take in a million years, because, I mean, it would take a miracle to get him out from behind the Aurelian walls. With Constantine finally parked just beyond the ruined Milvian Bridge on the north side of the Tiber in late October 312 AD, Maxentius consulted with his soothsayers to take the pulse of the gods so he could figure out what he should do. As it turned out, the morning he went to talk to them was the morning of October 28, which just so happened to be the sixth anniversary of his reign. These sorts of anniversaries were considered particularly auspicious, and the soothsayers other readings that the enemies of Rome would be defeated on that very day. Maxentius needed no further prompting. He ordered his army out of the gates and into the field. He was going to take the fight to Constantine and settle this once and for all.

But of course, as we learned last week, on the night of October 27, Constantine had made his own supernatural connection, and now believed completely that he was fighting with the full blessing of the one true God. With the magical Cairo leading the way, either posted atop a standard or painted on the shields of his men, his army was truly invincible. That Maxentius was now suddenly and inexplicably marching out of Rome to face them? Well, is that not a miracle of God? Yes, the enemies of Rome would be defeated on that day. But the soothsayers never did say who those enemies of Rome were, now did they?

So as you may have picked up already, the battle of the Milvian Bridge is a bit of a misnomer. After all, prior to Constantine's arrival, Maxentius had ordered all the bridges across the Tiber destroyed, and that included the Milvian Bridge. So when Maxentius' army finished the short march from the Flaminian Gate to the spot on the Tiber where the bridge had stood, he had to build a pontoon bridge of rafts to get his men to the other side. So I think the battle should technically be called, the battle of a spot near the spot where the Milvian Bridge had been, but where there was now a temporary pontoon bridge. But that doesn't really roll off the tongue, so battle of the Milvian Bridge it is.

Though Maxentius nullified his greatest advantage when he decided to come out from behind the Aurelian Walls, when he took the field on the morning of October 28, he still had every reason to be confident, as by all accounts, he outnumbered Constantine something like two to one. He arrayed his army in a long line with its back to the river, long enough that hopefully they would be able to envelop Constantine's smaller army. But not unlike the Greeks at Marathon, Constantine decided to risk going to battle with too thin a line, and extended his own to match the length of Maxentius' to prevent an easy flanking move. The two armies thus lined up, Constantine took the initiative, and ordered his cavalry to attack Maxentius' horsemen. In short order, Maxentius' less able cavalry was broken up, and Constantine ordered his infantry to advance. The fight that ensued was a bitter one, but short, because it appears that Constantine simply took the field with more talented soldiers, and so Maxentius' army began to be pushed back. Here now, Maxentius' decisive blunder was revealed to all. He had lined up his army so close to the river that when they needed to fall back and regroup, they really had nowhere to go, and things quickly got out of hand. Hoping to live to fight another day, Maxentius ordered a retreat back to Rome. After all, the Aurelian Walls haven't gone anywhere, I can still hold out against a siege. But the order to retreat sparked panic, as way too many men tried to cross way too rickety a pontoon bridge to get back to the safe side of the Tiber. Lactantius reports that as Maxentius himself tried to cross the river, he was pushed aside by fleeing soldiers and knocked into the Tiber where he drowned. He was 34 years old, and had been emperor, but never really been emperor, for exactly six years.

Constantine spent the rest of the day mopping things up, but on October 29 he entered Rome as a conquering hero. He staged an adventus, which was something like a low-grade triumph, and paraded his way through the streets to the cheers of the masses. When he arrived in the Forum, though, he pointedly did not climb up the Capitoline Hill and make a sacrifice at the Temple of Jupiter, as would have been standard operating procedure. A clear sign, at least in retrospect, that the times they were a-changing.

But despite his now increasingly revolutionary religious posture, Constantine was not ready to upend every apple cart he could get his hands on. Not yet, anyway. So at the end of his parade, he went to the Curia to meet with the Senate and make nice. They had every reason to fear for their lives and property, but Constantine again cast himself as the merciful conqueror, and announced that there would be no retribution against Maxentius' supporters. On top of that, he told them that all those ancient privileges they had been pining for would be returned to them now that he was in charge. This was all greeted with enthusiastic applause, and they proclaimed him as the greatest Augustus, in effect pronouncing him the senior member of the Tetrarchy, something that Maximinus Daya would certainly have something to say about.

But Constantine did have a little bit of housekeeping to attend to. He declared Maxentius' memory to be damned, and all his laws and edicts nullified. All the inscriptions on all the buildings Maxentius had erected were scratched out, and replaced by inscriptions dedicated to Constantine. This, for example, is how the Basilica of Maxentius, which wasn't yet completed, came to be known as the Basilica of Constantine. Returning to a more grisly business, Constantine ordered Maxentius' body dragged out of the Tiber and beheaded. The head was then paraded through the city as a warning to everyone of what happens to the enemies of Constantine. Then it was put in a box and sent to North Africa, so that the locals there would understand completely that Constantine was now in charge, and that it was best not to mess with him.

Finally, Constantine officially brought an end to the institution that had been so instrumental in shaping the course of Roman history. Three hundred years after being formally organized, the Praetorian Guard was abolished for good. The remaining guardsmen, that is, those who had not died fighting for Maxentius, were reassigned to posts all over the empire, and their camp, the site of so many pivotal events over the centuries, was demolished. It was nothing less than the end of an era.

So as I said at the beginning, in all of this, there is nothing of the legendary triumph of Christianity over paganism that is usually associated with Constantine's victory at the Milvian Bridge. All of that would come later, after Constantine was firmly entrenched in power. For now, the theme of Constantine's victory was simply that he had freed Rome from the tyrant Maxentius. An exaggerated caricature of Maxentius was drawn up, painting him as a vile and illegal dictator, but the overt Christian themes would not be played up until later.

That said, however, it cannot be denied that at this point, at a minimum, Constantine was hugely sympathetic to the Christian cause. The Edict of Milan, which we will talk about next week, for example, will be issued just months after his victory at the Milvian Bridge, showing that Constantine was not just sympathetic, but that he was ready to act on that sympathy at the first opportunity. At the other end of the spectrum, it can plausibly be claimed that at this point, Constantine was already a true believer, but one who understood that sudden proclamations of his own Christianity might do more harm to the cause than good, as it would alienate a pagan population ready to be sympathetic and tolerant, but not yet ready to convert, or, perhaps more importantly, have their emperor convert. His snubbing of the Capitoline Jupiter is telling, as is the statue he had erected in the Forum which showed him triumphantly holding the Lubarum, which was understood by Constantine to be a Christian symbol of power. These actions hint that there was something more than vague monotheism at work behind the curtain, but also that he was not yet ready to reveal his whole hand.

Next week, after heading to Milan to cement the alliance between Constantine and Licinius and discuss the aforementioned Edict of Milan, we will head east to see how Maximinus Daya is handling all of this, and I can assure you, he is not happy about any of it. Isolated in the east, it will be make or break time for the man who was supposed to be the senior member of the imperial college, but who was no longer recognized as such by his brother emperors. Unfortunately for Maximinus, though, despite his best efforts, it will turn out to be break time, and in less than a year, what had once been rule by four, will be down to rule by two, with Constantine in charge of the west and Licinius the east. I wonder how long that is going to last. I wonder how long that is going to last.