Prologue
Great empires are not maintained by timidity.
—Cornelius Tacitus, Historian
In the first century AD, Rome was at the pinnacle of its power. It held dominion over one-fifth of the world's population from Britannia and Gaul in the north to Carthage and Mauretania in the south to Egypt, Syria, and Macedonia to the east. When a rebellion arose in a client state, it would be quelled with breathtaking brutality. Rome ruled with a heavy hand using fear and intimidation as its primary instruments of subjugation.
Mighty as the empire was Rome spent much of the first century AD in tumult, able to boast only intermittent years of relative calm and prosperity. Politics became a blood sport. Assassinations, treachery, debauchery, and mayhem became the norm.
A time of particular turbulence was a 65-year period between AD 14 to AD 79. Romans had eight emperors during that stretch of time. Being an emperor had become a risky proposition.
Nero opted for suicide, then face sure death when the senate declared him a public enemy, and Claudius had been poisoned by his wife. Four emperors had been murdered: Caligula, Galba, Piso, and Vitellius–all of which the praetorian guard had a hand. The later three slain in a single year that notoriously became known as The Year of Four. Before year's end, Vespasian Augustus, an army general, had marched his army on Rome and seized power in AD 69, becoming the fourth emperor in twelve months. The seizure of the capital cost 50,000 Romans their lives.
Tiberius, the first of the emperors during this era, died of natural cause but had to fend off multiple attempts on his life. He acknowledged his lack of political savvy having said to a confidant that ruling Rome was like “holding a wolf by the ears.” The senate did not trust him and the praetorian guard to not respect him, sowing the seeds of despotism in the years that ensued.
Driven by insatiable avarice, the members of the senate had become known for their personal enrichment schemes and patronage, then a body created to serve the people. The praetorian guard lusted for more power and influence were co-conspirators in all five assassinations, and many other failed plots.
Bribery had become the transaction of choice. Everything was for sale for the right price–military commands, a judgeship, legal judgments, tax assessments, and access to power. Naked self-interest overtook every aspect of Roman society.
In his tenth year, Vespasian remained emperor by purging his enemies and buying the support of the senate, praetorian guard, and the Roman citizenry. Using the plunder of defeated countries, he increased the wages of the senate and praetorian guard, improved the roads, and built magnificent temples. As a gift to the people of Rome, he ordered the construction of the Colosseum–of which he paid from his own personal wealth.
As with the emperors before him, he, too, had been concerned about plots against his rein. To consolidate his power and solidify the line of family succession, he named both of his sons to high-level military posts. It was a decision met with disdain that enabled his enemies list to flourish and foment discontent.
Except for the chaotic Year of Four, one man in Rome could lay claim to having served all the emperors. His name was Gaius Plinius Secundus, known as Pliny the Elder.
On 30 July, AD 79, three weeks before the eruption of Mt. Vesuvius, Pliny received a secret dispatch from Emperor Vespasian. Bearing the official emperor's seal, the message was concise: Be in attendance at the Imperial Palace to meet with me on the morning of 3 August. Say nothing of this to anyone. –Vespasian
Capitulum
l
Let them hate us so long as they fear us.
–Emperor Caligula
Anno Domini 79
2 August
Rome
Rome was hot and humid as it was most of the time during August. And this Augustam, the year AD 79, had been no different.
Pliny the Elder, arrived with the morning tide in the port city of Ostia in a Roman flagship naval vessel. He boarded a special praetorian guard carpentum–a six-passenger, military horse-drawn carriage–for the arduous three-hour land trip from Ostia to Rome. Accompanying him were three young naval officers of peregrini rank, granted leave and bound for their respective homes.
The first stop in Rome was a marketplace near Pliny’s villa. He had to purchase a supply of writing implements and parchment paper to complete his definitive Naturalis Historia, a landmark encyclopedic work of natural history scheduled for release in September.
No sooner did he step off the carpentum, had the thought entered his mind, “I can't wait to leave Rome.” Ingenious Roman engineers had perfected an effective sanitation regime over the last 100 years. But on that day, the city had a decided aroma that was pungent and suffocating. The stench of human body odor was wafting heavy in the still air. The people busy shopping in crowded marketplaces and public squares suffered the most.
An accomplished and prolific author of 49 books, Pliny, now 61-years-old, was a man of many professional pursuits and varied interests. Among them, lawyer, natural philosopher, and naturalist. Early in Pliny's military career, his instinctive leadership skills propelled him to the rank of army commander and later naval fleet commander. His body of work, combined with a genuine desire to help people of every social and economic standing, earned him the deep respect and admiration of the Roman people. “It is generally much more shameful to lose a good reputation than never to have acquired one,” he opined in a letter to Publius Pomponius Secundus, an old friend and his former military commander. In Roman society, respect and honor were measured and bestowed by what others' said about you. A Roman, no matter his family lineage or current status, would be judged in the eyes of his fellow Romans. Pliny was one of those rare men who had many admirers.
“The shopkeeper Petronius, is he here today?” asked Pliny who arrived at the stationery shop at Forum Imperial Fora. The exclusive marketplace had hundreds of vendors selling their wares from open stalls and small buildings. The primary patrons were the aristocrats and patrician class who lived in the surrounding Palatine Hill neighborhood.
“I shall get him immediately, sir. He's out back receiving a shipment of parchment,” responded a dark-skinned woman of advanced years whose status as a freewoman permitted her to work as a vendor of goods.
“Tell Petronius that Pliny is here to see him, please. Wait! Are you new to Rome, may I ask? I've not before seen you at the marketplace.”
The old woman taken aback by the question showed a puzzled expression on her face. It was rare for a wealthy resident of Palatine Hill to make a personal inquiry of a common marketplace worker. With hesitancy in her voice, she said, “I am . . . I am new to the city. I . . . I arrived from Phoenicia two months ago. For many years I served the master, Maxentius, the provincial governor of Hispania Ulterior, and upon his death, became a freewoman along with ten other of his servants as stated in his will.”
“And your name is . . .,” nodding his head and widening his eyes to encourage a response. “Do not be fearful, woman. No harm will come to you. What is your name?”
She stepped back and lengthened the distance between herself and Pliny. “Pampalonia,” her response was barely audible. She was frightened of being called a liar or, worse, accused of being a fugitive slave or a spy. Either offense, if proclaimed guilty, carried a penalty of having both hands amputated.
“Pampalonia . . . Well, Pampalonia, welcome to Roma as a plebeian citizen of this great city. And good luck working for Petronius. He's a fine man and a true Roman.”
It took a few moments for Petronius to emerge from the rear of the shop. He approached, right hand extended, to greet Pliny. He was the shopkeeper's most valued customer. “Pliny, your timing could not be better. Just today a large shipment of papyrus has arrived. It's of the highest quality. Direct from Egypt.”
“Excellent.”
“How much will you need,” asked the shopkeeper sporting a broad smile that showed several missing teeth.
“Four, 33-foot rolls ought to hold me for a while. I'll also need a dozen pens and a half-dozen styli, you know the kind, Petronius, the ones with a hard brass nib. Oh and include a barrel of ink.”
“I'll have everything packed and ready for delivery by day's end.”
“Not to my villa, though. Have everything sent to Ostia, to the warship Oceanus. I'm leaving tomorrow for Misenum. How many sesterces is this order going to cost?”
Petronius calculated in his head, “66 sesterces.”
Pliny promptly reached inside his toga and withdrew a handful of sesterces, counted off seven 10 sesterces pieces and handed them to the shopkeeper. “Apply the balance to my next purchase . . . Petronius, how's your son? On my last visit you told me he had been befallen with a paralysis of the legs.”
“Sadly, it appears to be a permanent condition. My wife, Placidia, is devastated to no end. The boy requires constant care. That's the reason I hired Pampalonia. Placidia refuses to leave the boy by himself. She's in tears half the day.”
“I'm sorry to learn of this tragedy. Is there anything I can do? Perhaps I can have my doctor investigate a cure?”
“You're too generous, Pliny. Thank you,” he said with a tight-lipped smile. “But I'm afraid there's not much that can be done. We've seen three doctors already, and they came to the same conclusion.”
“The offer still holds.”
“Again, thank you. I'll convey your kind offer to Placidia.”
Chief among the reasons Pliny had been held in high esteem was because he would never be critical of other people, whether they be his servants, his friends, the men and women he works with, or the military he commands. Even those of the senate and the ruling class of Roman society. When disagreement arose, his disarming manner and uncanny ability to empathize made even his few detractors feel at ease and not threatened. Pliny lived by a strict rule: never should you cast aspersions on another. From his early childhood, his parents taught him not to channel negative energy, but to see the good in people and never to impeach their motives. His extensive writings have proved this. In a world dominated by treachery, ruthlessness, and debauchery, his easy going nature served him well. That's not to suggest he had been happy with the direction Rome had taken over the last few decades. He wasn't.
Pliny's plan was to return to his summer villa in the cooler coastal city of Misenum following his meeting with Emperor Vespasian the next morning. The city was a vital Roman naval base where he served as prefect fleet commander and magistrate. For the balance of the day he wanted nothing more than to bathe and rest at his second villa, in the exclusive neighborhood of Palatine Hill, and to muse over the reason Vespasian had him summoned to Rome.
* * *
After a fitful but short four-hour night's rest, Pliny donned a clean short-sleeved dark green tunic under a bright white toga. He headed to the dining area of the villa. He maintained two permanent live-in servants: a man, Cloelius and his wife, Blandina. Both had been busy in the kitchen preparing breakfast. Pliny awarded them manumissio–freeman and freewoman–status to them upon completing nine years of loyal service. He took pleasure in preparing the legal document required for freeman status and personally delivered it to the Roman administrative office.
“I shall go to the marketplace this morning to buy fresh fruit and vegetables for tonight's cena. Is there something else special you wish, Pliny?” asked Blandina.
“No. I am leaving straightaway for Misenum after my meeting with Vespasian,” said Pliny to Blandina, adding but looking toward Cloelius, “Fetch the cisium and take me over to the palace. It's too hot to walk. I'll need you to wait there for me and afterward to take me to Ostia.”
“As you wish, Pliny. I'll harness the horse and be ready as soon as you finish eating.”
Pliny appreciated Blandina's cooking. She prepared his favorite: wheat pancakes, dates and honey. No sooner did he consume his final bite than Cloelius reentered the kitchen.
“Whenever you're ready, Pliny.”
“Your timing is perfect. Let's go.”
* * *
Pliny entered the imposing Imperial Palace complex from Via di San Gregorio. From that point, he turned left past the criptoportico, a 186-foot long tunnel where Emperor Caligula had been murdered in AD 41. Emperor Nero later used the ominous passageway to connect to a large garden featuring a lavish, fish-laden octagonal fountain.
This was not Pliny's first visit to the Imperial Palace. For various reasons–both official and social–he had met with every emperor–five in all–since AD 35, except during the turbulent “Year of Four,” in AD 68. In less than twelve months, three emperors were assassinated in rapid succession before Vespasian's rule began by year's end.
Next to the large garden was the Hippodrome, a stadium used for exercising the horses of the Imperial stable. The stadium provided, to the west, a spectacular vista of Circus Maximus and an equally majestic view of the Roman Forum to the east. Pliny reached a large columned peristyle courtyard used to greet visiting emissaries and guests.
Two praetorian guards stood sentry at the main entrance to the palace.
“Kindly announce me to Emperor Vespasian. I have been summoned, and he is expecting me. Pliny is my name.”
“Wait here,” he said with a blank look on his face.
From one hundred feet away there was the unmistakable sound of bronze protective armor clanking in concert with the deliberate movements of a human body. The praetorian guard was walking through a long hallway adorned with statues and busts honoring the former occupants of the Imperial Palace. He was heading toward a vast outdoor atrium where Vespasian was issuing last minute instructions to three palace servants about the evening's dinner party he was throwing in honor of the visit of his friend Pliny. A dinner party Pliny had not been informed about, and which he’d have to attend.
“He is here. A man calling himself Pliny awaits, Vespasian. Shall I bring him forth?” asked the praetorian guard wearing his iconic, red-plumed helmet worn only by men of the most famous–although some contend infamous–military unit in the Roman Empire.
“Yes, Philippus. Bring him here and have Savona bring refreshment–wine–to my quarters,” instructed Vespasian.
Pliny the Elder and Emperor Vespasian are both of the equestrian class enabling them to rise through the military and administrative ranks of Roman order. They became close friends when both men, as junior officers, were promoted at the same time to praefectus alae, commanding a cavalry wing of 480 men, and fought together in the Roman campaign against Germania in AD 37.
“My dear friend, Pliny, welcome. I am delighted to see you.” Both men approached each other, arms opened wide, embraced and kissed each other on the cheek three times, rotating from left cheek to right cheek to left cheek. “It's been a while since I've been in the company of an old and loyal friend–times being what they are.”
“The honor is mine, Vespasian. I'm here to serve you and to serve Rome,” assured Pliny. “What is it you want from me? I'm ready to help Rome in any way I can.”
“I'm sure you will be of help.” There was the slightest inkling in the emperor's voice that his gaining Pliny's help was more an order than a request.
“Come. Walk with me, Pliny. How are your sister and nephew?” inquired the emperor, in a tone of genuine interest. Plinia Marcella, his sister, and his nephew, Pliny the Younger, her son, lived with Pliny at his seaside villa in Misenum. Plinia Marcella’s husband died at an early age. Pliny reared his nephew as a father since childhood and legally adopted him.
They began a five-minute walk from the atrium to Vespasian's private quarters.
Of average height and weight, Vespasian could pass as a common Roman citizen. But Vespasian distinguished himself from the man on the street by the emperor's traditional wardrobe, its various components being governed by Roman Sumptuary Laws. The emperor wore a special toga called a trabea, which was entirely of the color purple.
“How is the morale of the fleet?” asked the emperor as they entered Domus Flavia, the large enclosed area of the palace complex where the banquet planned for the evening would take place.
“Combat ready, as always. And at your disposal.”
“How many warships?”
Three years ago Vespasian pressed his friend out of retirement and named him magistrate of the praetorian guard naval fleet based in Misenum. Although Pliny had no idea why he had been called to Rome, he expected the question.
“Twenty total. Eight quinqurermes with 30 oars, eight triremes, each with 60 oars, and three of the hemiola class, also with 12 oars. Plus, the flagship Oceanus. All are fully manned.”
The emperor changed the subject.
“Tell me about the progress of your latest work, this encyclopedia. Everyone in Rome is talking about its pending release.”
“It's nearly complete. Thankfully. When it's finished, it will be a collection of 37 books, ten volumes, covering 17 specific subjects. Subjects including astronomy, geography, mathematics, zoology, botany, mineralogy. It will be indexed and referenced. Just this morning, I purchased a supply of paper and ink to complete the one remaining volume.”
“You must be very proud, Pliny. From what you have described, this encyclopedia will be your most influential work. And its title?”
“Naturalis Historia.”
The bulk of Pliny's research and writing would be done in the evening. His daytime hours had to be devoted to his responsibilities working for the emperor as fleet commander. A workaholic, he thrived on the long hours and needed little sleep. To make this point in the preface of Naturalis Historia he wrote, Vita vigilia est. To be alive is to be watchful. It's a military metaphor for a sentry keeping watch in the night.
“Rome is very proud of you, my friend. I can only imagine how the people will hold you in esteem after this extraordinary feat of writing.”
Upon reaching Domus Augustana, the emperor's extravagant private residence, Vespasian motioned with his left hand, “Please, sit. Refreshment is on the way.”
As a show of respect, Pliny remained standing in front of two exquisite wicker chairs weaved with rare Syrian terebinth wood as Vespasian walked behind a huge wooden desk with gold leaf inlay, to the emperor's chair. Befitting his status as leader of the Roman Empire, the high-back chair was made of cypress that had detailed engravings of Roman Gods, also configured in gold leaf inlay.
Vespasian repeated, “Sit. Rest, my friend. We have much to talk about.”
Formalities over, Vespasian, known for his straightforward manner, came to the point of Pliny's visit. “The last fifty years have been difficult for Rome and its people, Pliny. Too much bloodshed. Too much treachery. Too much volatile change. Too long in civil war. First, there was Tiberius–and how he set the stage for that awfully disfigured Claudius. Then what?” With both his hands, palms down, he angrily slammed the desktop, startling Pliny. “Look at what those two crazed animals, Nero and Caligula, wrought on Rome! And lest we forget the three emperors who were assassinated in rapid succession in the one year that followed!”
Pliny had never seen Vespasian so worked up, so emotional, so vitriolic. And yet, Pliny was thinking, how tangible his friend's vulnerability appeared to be.
“I need you to do a special task, undertake a project of enormous importance.”
At that moment, the servant, Savona, arrived with a decanter of red wine. He saw her out of the corner of his right eye. He immediately raised his right index finger to his mouth, nodding downward in silence.
Pliny knew what the hand gesture meant: We must hold our tongue.
“What does he ask of me that cannot be said in front of a slave girl,” pondered Pliny.
