262. The Army the Real Master of the Roman Empire.—The Romans beyond all else have been a military people. Their great abilities as law givers, administrators, disseminators of civilization through Western Europe apparently would have been almost in vain if the legions had failed against Hannibal, against Mithridates, against Vercingetorix. Furthermore, the power of the Cæsars is primarily that of war chiefs. Let the army revolt, and Senate, plebeians, and provincials can protest their loyalty ever so frantically—the Princeps, the “First Citizen,” nevertheless is a lost man.

Every Emperor knows this fact. His memory goes back to those two fearful years 68 and 69 A.D. when first a revolt in Gaul and a mutiny by the Prætorians in Rome overthrew Nero and set up Galba, then a second mutiny of the Prætorians set up Otho, then a revolt of the Rhine legions set up Vitellius, then a counter-revolt by the Danube and Syrian legions set up Vespasian; with the civilian population looking on helplessly, and being almost as helplessly plundered, while decidedly small bodies of professional swordsmen settled the fate of the Empire. Still later they remember how after Domitian’s murder, the Prætorians (whom that despot had caressed and corrupted) forced his successor Nerva to punish the very conspirators to whom Nerva himself owed the throne.

Hadrian, in turn, who passes for a very “constitutional” ruler, when his kinsman Trajan died (117 A.D.), allowed himself to be “proclaimed” immediately by the soldiers in the East where he then was. Next he wrote with studious modesty to the Senate begging the Conscript Fathers to “excuse” the zeal of the army and to ratify its action in choosing him Imperator. Every senator knew the blade might soon be at his own neck if he openly opposed confirming the mandate of the legionaries. The army, in short, is the final authority in the Roman Empire. Presently there may even be an Emperor [Septimus Severus about 210 A.D.] who will give his sons direfully blunt and effective counsel: “Enrich the army and then you can do anything.”

263. Army Held under Stiff Discipline and Concentrated on Frontiers.—Nevertheless at present the army is under a tight rein. Trajan and Hadrian by a mixture of donatives and severity have restored firm discipline. The Roman world functions freely and normally behind the frontier barriers held by the legions, with the great chaos of barbarism tossing harmlessly outside. Furthermore, this army, if very formidable, is, we shall see, decidedly small. It is distributed mainly along the northern and eastern frontiers, with a sizable garrison and guard-corps at Rome.

In the arrangement of the army, most of the provinces seem absolutely divested of regular soldiers save those in transit, and their governors only require a good constabulary to arrest brigands and rioters. The collapse of the Jewish insurrection has practically ended the last serious attempt to cast off Roman authority, and the provinces submit not simply because of fear, but because they are now bound to the imperial régime by great cultural and economic interests.[161] In Rome itself, thanks to the presence of the imperial guard, soldiers are frequent sights upon the streets, but in many other great cities of the Empire they are comparative rarities. Their duties are in the frontiers, and their officers know well the demoralization wrought by keeping their men in city garrisons.

When Augustus found the world at his feet he also found himself with armies which were very expensive and somewhat ready to mutiny against him. Very promptly, therefore, he reduced his 45 legions to only about 18. This number proved too few, and by the end of his reign they had risen to 25; these in turn have been gradually increased to 30; and this will be the ordinary number for a good while longer.[162] The legionaries are the regular troops of the line, on whose disciplined fighting the safety of civilization may well depend. There are, however, no ordinary legionaries stationed in Rome, although we can, of course, obtain full information in the capital about them. Their place is taken by a magnificent and arrogant guard-corps—the Prætorians.

264. The Prætorian Guard of the Emperors.—The Prætorian guards are the successors of the old Prætoriani, picked men, who guarded the Prætorium (general’s residence or tent) in the armies of the old Republic. But the new Imperators were entitled to a much larger and more permanent guard, and they also desired to have a reliable body of troops always in or near Rome to protect against an uprising. Augustus, therefore, organized nine “prætorian cohorts,” although keeping only three directly in Rome; his successor, Tiberius, however, boldly concentrated them all in the imperial city, and built for them an enormous camp behind the Viminal hill, on the northeast side of the metropolis.

Here they have remained as the dreaded engine of the Caesars. Disguise the fact as he may, every senator knows in his heart: “If the Senate defies the Emperor, the Prætorians can and will sack the Curia.” So long as the Prætorians are obedient no Emperor need tremble overmuch at stories of a provincial uprising. When the Prætorians desert he had better, as did Nero, slink away to commit suicide.

The guard-corps is jealously regarded by the frontier legions who sometimes turn against it, but thanks to its position at the capital its power is tremendous. Even the privates walk down the streets with a confident swagger—can they not make and unmake Emperors? If the army really controls the Empire, the Prætorians go far to control the will of the army.

265. The Prætorian Præfect and the Prætorian Camp.—Such being the case, there is one high official whom the Cæsars will always select with greater care than any other—the Prætorian Præfect. On this general rests responsibility for the military efficiency and loyalty of the corps. If he is a scheming bloody man, he can, like Tiberius’s præfect Sejanus, almost place himself upon the throne; and if he is simply a faithful competent officer, his public services excel that of any civil functionary.

Since curiously enough the Emperor usually intrusts to the Prætorian Præfect the task of hearing legal “appeals to Cæsar” from the imperial half of the provinces, it is not unusual to name two præfects, nominally of equal authority but with one of them often a trained jurist, and the other more concerned with the military management of the corps. This has the additional advantage of making it harder to start an insurrection,—each Præfect will keep watch upon his colleague.

Inasmuch as the Emperor is now absent from Rome a detachment of the guard is away with him, but the world being in general peace there is no need (as in a major war) for the entire corps to go forth to reinforce the frontier legions. The Prætorians are therefore on duty as usual; one cohort at the Palatine, the remainder barracked at their great camp.

The Castra Prætoria[163] is more than a mere cantonment; it is a real fortress, only to be stormed after desperate fighting. We enter it from the central gateway (Porta Prætoria) which looks straight westward upon the city. A lofty wall of masonry, brick, and concrete, crowned by suitable battlements, surrounds a vast rectangular area about 1400 feet wide, and 1100 feet deep. The greater and lesser gates are crowned with fine marble sculptures almost worthy of the Palatine. In the center of the area rises a mass of office buildings, a residence for the Præfect and a small temple to the military gods such as Mars, and especially to the deified emperors. The side walls of the inclosure are extended on the inside by an enormous system of arches and vaulting, making many deep chambers where thousands of men are easily barracked.

In the open area fountains are playing, and the sun is sending a flying glory from the burnished armor of a cohort standing at rest, while certain officers affix medals of honor, or bestow spears and banners of honor upon various men who have lately distinguished themselves during some detached duty in Mauretania. Everything about the place betrays a perfect “police”; all commands are executed with extreme promptness; and every individual seems absolutely to know his part, as being one cog in an enormous war machine, into the making of which has entered an almost inconceivable amount of skill and energy.

266. Organization and Discipline of the Prætorians.—The Prætorians are organized much as the ordinary legionary troops with certain proud modifications. The regular legions can be recruited from all over the Empire; the Prætorians are still drawn only from Italy. They receive twice the pay of the legionaries, and their term of service is only sixteen years as against twenty with the regulars. Besides these advantages, and the joy of living near to the pleasures of Rome, their discipline is said to be much easier.

The emperors, who fear the mutterings of the guard-corps much more than they do those of the Senate, often shower special bonuses upon the Prætorians. Their centurions and still more their tribunes are welcome guests in the most aristocratic houses in Rome. Their weapons are the same as the legionaries’, but, of course, their armor is of the finest; and on gala occasions when the whole corps is ordered out with gilded or silvered helmets and cuirasses over purple military cloaks, the sight of these thousands of tall powerful warriors marching in perfect rhythm is astonishing beyond words.

In one important respect the organization of the Prætorians differs from that of the regular legionaries: their nine cohorts number 1000 instead of 600 men each and the whole guard-corps therefore amounts to about 9000 men. Considering that these troops are chosen for their splendid physiques, and are trained for years in every military accomplishment, remarkable will be the foe of like numbers that can withstand them. As for the city of Rome, its whole raging populace is like mere chaff and straw if the trumpets sound through the camp, and the centurions thunder down their files, “Open the gates and clear the streets!”

267. The City Cohorts (Cohortes Urbanæ).—The Prætorians, however, have some humbler comrades in Rome, in addition to police-firemen, the vigiles. Sometimes the guard-corps must follow the Emperor on campaign, but nevertheless the capital needs a fixed garrison. The City Præfect (see p. 300), therefore, commands four additional cohorts (cohortes urbanæ) also of 1000 each, in a special camp in the northern part of the metropolis. These “City Cohorts” are organized much like the Prætorians, and in a grave emergency would act with them; but they have longer terms of service, lesser pay, severer discipline.

It is far less of an honor to belong to this force than to the Prætorians, and there is little “fraternizing” between its members and the haughty guard-corps. However, they make 4000 more armed men always available for the defense and control of the city. Added to these can, of course, be the vigiles (7000 strong), easily changeable into genuine soldiers in a crisis. This makes the total garrison of Rome, while the Prætorians are in the city, around 20,000 men, plus usually some marines detached from the squadrons at Ostia and Misenum.

The frontiers are far away, but the central direction of the great imperial war machine is inevitably at Rome. From the Prætorian barracks issue those orders which can set the legions marching against the Caledonians of North Britain or the Arabs of the Syrian deserts. There can be no better place, therefore, for inquiry about the organization and discipline of that grim efficient engine which maintains the Pax Romana and makes possible the splendid, artificial Græco-Roman civilization.

High officers are constantly passing through Rome. Some of these men have had long and distinguished careers, and among them is a certain Aulus Quadratus, a gray and grizzled veteran, now in the capital for honorable retirement, after an unusual term of service. By tracing his experience, a good insight can be gained into the organization and duties of the legionaries.

268. A Private in the Legions: the Legionary Organization.—Quadratus was born in South Gaul (Gallia Narbonensis), a country that has already been well Romanized, and from which the government draws many excellent legionaries.[164] He was a poor free laborer on a great estate, but when he was only about eighteen an enrolling officer appeared and demanded a certain number of recruits of his master. The latter naturally suggested taking several of the youngest and least valuable of the hands. Quadratus was strong, courageous, and adventuresome, and he did not object to this informal type of “selective draft.” Thus he soon found himself a private in the camp of the “Second Augustan Legion” (legio secunda augusta) stationed in a great fortified camp guarding the Rhine somewhere near later Mayence or Strassbourg in “Upper Germany” (Alsace and the Rhenish Palatinate).

Once enlisted, Quadratus realized that at least twenty years of unremitting service lay ahead of him. Home life and marriage were forbidden the soldiery, and their whole lives revolved around the army. The Roman discipline caught each man, and each became a valuable and contented soldier only so far as he submitted to this discipline and merged his personality in the vast organization.

Quadratus was, therefore, promptly “put under the vinestock,” the stout cudgel of twisted vine twigs with which the centurions vigorously corrected their tyros. At first he was a very ignorant and unimportant part of the “Second Augustan,” but soon he understood its organization and became proud of its history. Every legion consisted of ten cohorts, each in turn divided into six centuries.[165] Each century contained in theory a hundred infantry, making 6000 for the entire legion. Besides these, there was a small cavalry force for scouting attached to each legion, four turmæ (squadrons) of 30 horsemen each. The various contingents, however, were seldom quite full. When the Second Augustan went to battle it reckoned, therefore, somewhere under 6000 men.

269. Training of the Legionaries: the Pilum and the Gladius.—Quadratus, under very severe drill masters, learned the use of weapons. Nothing could take the place, so he was taught, of cool proficiency with sword and javelin. It was the trained valor of the average Roman legionary, not the skill often of his commanders, that had given to the Cæsars the mastery of the world, and while the discipline was strict, and the training incessant, pains were taken not to destroy the young man’s self-respect, or those powers of initiative which were the glory of his profession.

He was taught furthermore to despise those enemies, who, like the old Macedonians, were so lacking in personal resources that they had to go into battle wedged together shield to shield with long spears bristling in front—the rigid “phalanx” formation. This is excellent on level ground when the foe is all ahead, but often becomes a source of danger to itself because the closely packed soldiers are deprived of any chance to display personal valor, and are almost helpless to change position if attacked on flank or rear. Quadratus in his training was taught to stand five feet from his comrades on either side with plenty of room to swing his shield and javelin.

Long exercise made him a master of his two weapons. The heavy javelin (pilum) is a devilish missile, as every foe of Rome has learned to his cost. It is about six and a half feet long with a heavy wooden butt and a long blade-like head, usually barbed and razor keen. Flung by a practiced soldier at short range it can knock down any adversary who is not firmly braced, even if it does not pierce his shield. Once lodged in the shield it is no light thing to draw it out and not expose oneself to a second deadlier blow.

The pilum, they told Quadratus, was what had really made the Roman Empire possible; but it is duly supplemented by the Spanish short sword (gladius). This is a weapon borrowed, perhaps, from Spain but thoroughly Italianized. The blade is about thirty-three inches long, two-edged, sharp-pointed, and always used for thrusting. The instant a legionary has flung his pilum, and while his foe if not wounded is at least utterly demoralized from the shock, he whips his gladius from his thigh and leaps upon him. A single good thrust will disembowel a man, and he who is thus assailed by a trained Roman swordsman should pray to his native gods—he will need all aid possible.

270. Defensive Weapons.—These two very simple weapons Quadratus was taught to handle to perfection, until across the years their use became simply mechanical to him. Meantime he was learning to march, leap, and fight in his heavy defensive armor. He wore a stout metallic cuirass of fish-scale plates, and a solid helmet of brass upon which in parades and in actual battle he set a nodding plume of horse-hair. This helmet had brow- and cheek-pieces giving very perfect protection, but was so heavy that while marching he was allowed to carry it swung from a strap upon his breast.

Of course, however, his chief defensive weapon was his shield. This capital piece of armor is a rectangle of solid leather about four by two and one half feet, rimmed with iron and with handles for carrying on the left arm. A trained legionary knows how to fend and lunge with his shield with marvelous agility, and by means of the solid metal base in the center he can strike a tremendous blow. Almost no weapon can penetrate the shield, and thanks to it and his cuirass and his helmet, a soldier can march unscathed amid a perfect shower of arrows. Every technical point about his armor has, of course, been worked out scientifically. Simple as it appears, it represents a triumph of human skill.

271. Rewards and Punishments for Soldiers.—Thus accoutered Quadratus gained his first experience when the Second Augusta was ordered over the Rhine to punish a tribe of Germanic raiders in later-day Hessen. In the fighting that ensued he so proved his skill and courage that he received his first decoration, the right to wear a small banderole upon his pilum when his cohort appeared on parade ground. Discipline was severe, but rewards for faithfulness and valor were prompt and conspicuous. He had long seen his older comrades marching about with “spears of honor,” banderoles, and above all with huge medals and medallions, which, upon gala occasions, they wore upon their breasts.

Long before Quadratus’s career was ended, he, like many others, had a perfect collection of these medals, which hung jangling over his cuirass almost like a second coat of armor. Everybody knew the honors awarded his comrades, and there was constant emulation to deserve like decorations as well as more substantial rewards. No system could be better devised to call out the valorous service of simple-hearted and often very uncultivated men.

While Quadratus, without too many blows from his centurions’ vinestock, was thus on his way to promotion, he could witness the punishment of less fortunate comrades. Stripes, docking of pay, and extra duty were the standard penalties; but sometimes there were worse inflictions. Once a whole century acted in a cowardly manner. It was sentenced for one month to bivouac outside the camp and to eat bread of barley,—not of wheat, the food of brave and obedient troops.

Sometimes, of course, capital penalties were demanded. Once a private was guilty of gross insubordination; he had to “run the gantlet” (fustuarium) between two long files of soldiers who beat him with cudgels while he dashed vainly down the line, perishing ere he could reach the end. Once a detachment of half-drilled auxiliaries fled in an outrageous manner before the enemy. To teach a stern lesson these irregulars were “decimated”; being forced to stand disarmed before the whole legion, while lots were cast selecting every tenth man, who was forthwith dragged from the ranks and beheaded.

272. Pay and Rations in the Army: Soldiers’ Savings Banks.—While a private Quadratus, of course, drew the private’s pay, 1200 sesterces ($48) a year,[166] out of which, however, was deducted a certain part of his upkeep and equipment. Even as it was, however, this gave fairly ample spending money, and every soldier was required to deposit a part of his wages in the legionary savings bank, accumulating against the day of his happy discharge, and protected from barrack-room gambling and squandering. Besides this, brave service often won an increase of stipend, more valuable than many medals; and Quadratus was presently a duplarius, a “double-pay man,” to the great envy of certain comrades.

Army rations would have seemed to another age extremely monotonous, a mere succession of huge portions of coarse bread or of wheat porridge. There were also distributions of salt pork, vegetables, etc., but the legionaries did not care greatly for meat. There were even cases when they protested against “too much beef and too little wheat.” As for drink, everybody in camp enjoyed plenty of posca—the dilution of cheap wine and vinegar.[167]

273. The Training of Soldiers: Non-Military Labors.—Drilling went on incessantly. Even soldiers versed in their spear play seemed forever under arms merely to keep up the camp routine and morale. Every man was trained to be a good swimmer, to run, jump, and indulge in acrobatic feats like the testudo (when one group of men climbed upon their comrades’ heads) so useful in storming walls. Thrice a month the whole legion went on a forced practice march, going at least twenty miles at four miles (or more) per hour, each man bearing, besides his heavy armor, an elaborate baggage kit, half a bushel of grain, one or two tall intrenching stakes, a spade, axe, rope, and other tools—a weight of sixty pounds.

If strictly military work failed, there were endless civilian labors. Quadratus learned to use his spade almost as well as he could his pilum. He assisted in making and in repairing the great network of magnificent military roads leading to the frontiers. He worked in the legionary brick kilns, making bricks for the camps and the numerous small castella used to hold back the onthrusting Germans. He helped also to rebuild a temple of Jupiter at the garrison town of Mogontiacum (Mayence), and later to tug up the stones for a new amphitheater in that city. If he had been attached to a Syrian legion, he and his comrades might even have been ordered out to repel an invasion not of Parthians but of the more devastating locusts.

274. Petty Officers in the Legions.—All this experience came to him while he was earning his first promotions. Everybody in the legion—except those lowest and highest—had somebody, indeed, whom he could command while some one else could command him, and there was a very ingenious division and interlocking of power and responsibility.

Petty officers abounded, and having approved himself, Quadratus became one of the principales (high privates, and corporals)—first he became a tesserarius, “bearer of the watchword” for his century; then the “horn blower,” responsible often for important signals, then the signifer, the bearer of the small red flag (vexillium), surmounted with a small image of Victory, which was the standard of the cohort; then he was named optio (“chosen” man by a centurion), a centurion’s deputy and assistant, entitled to rank as a real officer and responsible for the control of a large squad of men.

At last came one of the most important days of his life. At a general parade of the legion the commanding general (legatus legionis) announced that Quadratus was appointed centurion and solemnly intrusted him with the terrible vinestock. There was no danger he would show mercy to the raw recruits!

275. The Centurions: their Importance and Order of Promotion.—Quadratus was now a member of that group of officers to which the Roman army owed the greater part of its entire discipline, morale, and efficiency. There were sixty centurions in every legion. They were usually self-made men, sturdy peasants’ sons like himself, who had risen from the ranks and then been selected by the general on account of merit.

The six military tribunes of each legion were, indeed, of higher rank, but they were often untested young noblemen, obliged to get a certain “military experience” before returning to Rome to sue for seats in the Senate and the favor of the Emperor. The centurions, however, were a permanent body. They had enlisted in the legion, and their whole life was tied up with it. If their methods were harsh, they prided themselves on showing an example of daring yet scientific valor in every battle. They were intensely devoted to their corps, its honor, and the honor of their comrades. With good centurions a motley host of raw recruits soon became formidable legionaries; without them the most skilful general might strive in vain to organize an army.

As centurion Quadratus found a straight line of promotion before him. He was obliged to begin as the sixth centurion of the tenth cohort, and by process of seniority he was entitled to rise to first centurion of the first cohort. He was making fair progress but advancement was discouragingly slow, and he might have ended (as did most of his fellow officers) only part way up the ladder before he reached the retiring age, when a great good fortune came to him.

While only a private he had won the “civic crown” (corona civica) of oak leaves for saving the life of a comrade in battle; he had also gained the golden “mural crown” (corona muralis) for being the first in a desperate storming party over the parapet of a crude fortress held by the Germans. But now, while acting as senior centurion of a large detachment, with the commanding tribune absent, he learned that a Roman garrison somewhere in the heart of the Black Forest region was hard pressed by a horde of Chatti. He led up his men suddenly and skilfully, broke through and dispersed the Barbarians and saved the garrison when it was at last gasp. For this he was awarded the “siege crown” (corona obsidionalis), a remarkable honor given by the rescued garrison, and plaited out of grass and weeds plucked on the spot of battle,[168] to the leader who had saved them.

276. The Primipilus: the Great Eagle of the Legion.—This distinction made it inevitable that when the post of first centurion in the legion fell vacant, Quadratus should be jumped over the heads of many others and made primipilus (“first javelin”)—the head of the whole corps of centurions, entitled to participate with the tribunes in a council of war, and—being, of course, now a man of great practical experience—allowed to speak very openly to the Legate of the Legion himself. Quadratus was now in some respects the most important man in the Second Augustan. His war pay was considerable, and he added to it by the permitted usage of taking fees from the men for certain exemptions from duty.

As primipilus he had the weighty responsibility of taking charge of the great golden eagle of the legion. In battle he would sometimes pluck it from the ordinary bearer (aquilifer), and electrify his comrades by dashing ahead with the full-sized golden eagle with outspread wings, surrounded by brilliant streamers, now borne on its pole high above his shoulders. Where the eagle went, there honor and devotion made every legionary follow with the fury of a man possessed. In a certain shrewd tussle with the Hermunduri, the valor of the whole phalanx of those Barbarians was snuffed out when they saw the glistening aquila bearing down on them heading a six-thousand-man wedge, with all the ten cohort flags like obedient retainers thrusting on behind, and when next came the pitiless beat of the pila succeeded instantly by the rush of the expert swordsmen.

277. Locations and Names of Legions.—Having become primipilus while still a fairly young man, Quadratus was not at the end of his promotion. He had carefully saved his money, and presently he gained official nobility as an eques. Now he was appointed to an independent command not in the legionary regulars, but in the “auxiliary cohorts.”

Only about one half of the imperial forces are in the legions. These are for the heavy fighting; they are kept in large garrisons and are used for secondary work as little as possible, nor are they moved from province to province except in serious emergencies.[169] The Second Augustan has always been in Upper Germany and there presumably it will stay for generations more. The same is true of the Third Augustan in North Africa, of the Fourth Scythians on the Danube, of the Twelfth Thunderers in Syria, and of a good many others. The result is that each legion, largely recruited in the nearby provinces, has small desire for distant service; and there is little love between, say, the “Twenty-first Ravagers” in Upper Germany and the “Sixth Ironclads” stationed along the Euphrates.[170]

278. The Auxiliary Cohorts: the Second Grand Division of the Army.—But it is absolutely necessary to have a mobile force, composed of troops of many kinds, especially cavalry, archers, slingers, and light spearmen for scouting. These men are often enlisted in the un-Romanized provinces, and are allowed to keep their native arms and discipline. As a rule they are organized in unattached cohorts, either in “large” cohorts of 1000 men with ten centuries, or “small” cohorts of 480 with six so-called centuries. Their commander is regularly a “Præfect,” commonly an officer who, like Quadratus, has graduated from the stern school of the centurion in a legion.

Auxiliary cohorts are often embodied and disbanded, they have no such glorious history and traditions as the legions, but they have a distinctive name and a number. Quadratus was assigned to the command of a new “large” cohort made up of tall blonde Germans who were glad to forget their feuds with the Romans, cross the Rhine, and take the Emperor’s pay, swearing to him the great oath of implicit military allegiance (the sacramentum). The government is far too wise, however, to leave such aliens too near their homes. Quadratus was, therefore, promptly ordered to march his “Sixth Nervan” (so named in honor of the then Emperor Nerva)[171] to the Danube.

The day the new Præfect quitted his old comrades of the Second Augustan he drew from the legionary chest all the savings from his pay, plus the sums deposited there after each bonus or donation wherewith the Emperors were always conciliating the army. He had also long since joined a self-help organization among the officers whereby he was to receive a fixed sum for his outfit whenever he received promotion.[172] He thus started upon his career as an upper officer a tolerably rich man.

279. The Præfect of the Camps and the Legate of the Legion.—As Præfect of the Sixth Nervan he won the good opinion of Trajan in both of the desperate Dacian Wars and then in the campaign against Parthia. As the next step, he was appointed by imperial patent “Præfect of the Camps”—the second in command of a legion, not responsible, indeed, for its conduct in battle, but with almost complete authority over its management and discipline while in its great permanent garrisons, subject only (in extreme cases) to the final authority of the commanding legate.

This was as high ordinarily as even a very fortunate soldier, who had enlisted as a mere private, could advance. Even as Præfect of the Camp Quadratus was looked down upon socially by the six young military tribunes, scions of senatorial families, who hung around the headquarters (prætorium), wrote verses, patronized the centurions, and boasted of how “they commanded the legion.” But Quadratus was, we repeat, an extraordinarily lucky officer. Grizzled now and battle-scarred, he impressed Hadrian as absolutely to be trusted. The Emperor, therefore, raised him to the rank of “Legate of the Legion,” which carried with it a seat in the Senate, and for the past few years accordingly Quadratus has been on the Rhine in chief command of that same Second Augustan where once he had “submitted to the vinestock” as a raw recruit.

He has now returned to Rome to be honorably retired and to end his days in a luxurious villa in the hills, having enjoyed every honor possible in the Roman army save that of being Imperial Legatus over an entire province, a post ordinarily combined with the command of several legions. It is men like Quadratus, hard and fit soldiers of absolute faithfulness, coolness, courage, and efficiency; steeped in the traditions of the army, and obeying automatically the call of military duty, that have been the soul of the Roman war-machine. Perhaps some day there will be degeneracy in the camps, even as in the luxurious city. Then the perils of the Empire will draw nigh—but not in the reign of Hadrian.

280. Care for Veterans: Retiring Bonuses and Land Grants.—Few enough of Quadratus’s messmates kept near to him in his upward career. To the average recruit, the most to be hoped for is that, before the end of his twenty years’ enlistment, he can be somewhere near the rank of centurion. But many men learn to enjoy the military life even as privates, and when the time for honorable discharge comes, will often be glad to reënlist in picked corps of veterani, bronzed and hardened warriors who make invaluable scouts and bodyguards for the upper officers, and who have quite forgotten the modes of civilian life.

If, however, they elect to be mustered out, not merely are there accumulations of pay and donations given them from the legion’s savings bank, but along with the honesta missio (honorable discharge) they receive either a grant of land for a modest farm, or a lump sum (some 3000 sesterces—$120) to start them on a peaceful career. If they become sick or disabled while in service, reasonably good care is taken of them. In any case the constant award of honorary spears, pennons, and medals appeals to the soldier’s vanity, and helps to reconcile him to a very long enlistment and an equally stiff discipline.

281. Barrier Fortresses; System of Encampments; Flexible Battle Tactics; Siege Warfare.—Into the details of the Roman war machine we cannot enter. We cannot discuss the wonderful system of barrier fortresses along the junction of the Rhine and Danube upon which the northern tribes beat in vain, nor the newly completed “Wall of Hadrian” sundering peaceful and guarded Britain from the stark savagery of Caledonia. We cannot explain the scientific system of temporary encampments, whereby every night—when a legion is on the march,—it occupies a square of ground fortified by solid palisades and with every tent in precisely the same spot as in the old camp of the preceding night—a method insuring that every camp becomes practically a fortress, almost impregnable in case of a defeat in the field. We cannot visit the permanent garrison towns, such as Colonia Agrippina (Cologne) on the Rhine, or Vindobona (Vienna) on the Danube, where extensive cities, with all the paraphernalia of civilization, have grown up around the cantonments on the very edge of raw barbarism.

It is still less possible to offer here a discussion of the flexible legionary battle tactics, whereby each particular foe is met with the formations most formidable to his special arms and weaknesses; and of the carefully adjusted order of march whereby an army can move with all its baggage train through a hostile country defiant of any ordinary harassment and flank attack. We must pass over also the system of siege warfare, and the use of long-range casting engines—a genuine artillery; and finally the wonderfully scientific engineering service, building high-roads through deserts, and throwing strong bridges even across such mighty streams as the Rhine, and—on Trajan’s Dacian campaigns—the Danube.

282. Limited Size of the Imperial Army: its Great Efficiency.—Two or three things about the army, however, call for particular comment. The size of these forces seems decidedly small, considering the vast extent of the Empire, the slow communications, the careful demilitarizing of the provincials, and the absence of any reserve corps or efficient militia. The thirty legions (5000 to 6000 men each) reckon perhaps 175,000 troops of the line. The Prætorians at Rome, the heterogeneous and scattered auxiliary cohorts, the small naval force, and other armed groups at the command of the government, in all reckon, perhaps, as many more; 350,000 men, however, is a very limited number when spread out from Britain to the confines of Arabia and the Nile cataracts, although only along the Rhine, the Danube, and the Euphrates are there now enemies creating serious military problems.

Except at Rome, we have seen that the bulk of these troops is held in the frontier garrisons, with all their corps kept on edge in full battle efficiency. Let a frontier be in real peril, however, and there is no means of reënforcing the local legions save by calling off other legions from posts at great distance. Governmental policy has not merely disarmed the provincials, it has systematically discouraged maintaining the military virtues.[173] If the frontiers are forced and the legions fail, the civilian population of the Empire (possibly some 80 to 100 millions) will be nigh helpless before a Parthian raid or Germanic invader; they can only call on the gods and the distant Emperor for aid.[174]

However, as yet, the legions have not failed. The Roman armies, never large, but unsurpassed in quality and composed of highly expert soldiers steeped in martial tradition, and organized, and commanded with scientific skill, lie as a solid barrier around the Mediterranean world, and in Hadrian’s day they are holding back possible invaders by the mere terror of their name. When one looks, marveling, upon the huge, luxurious, sophisticated capital, let it not be forgotten that Rome is imperial Rome because far away on the frontiers thirty brigades of iron-handed men night and day keep watch and ward.