Elagabalus built a beautiful temple to his ancestral god on the right bank of the Tiber at Rome, in the least fashionable portion of town among Lebanese and Jewish laborers; he was no doubt graciously received when he presided personally at its inauguration. But the world that mattered, the world of senators and centurions, reacted angrily. Within the city, the monarch was supposed to honor the capital’s gods, the ancient Roman gods. At the same time, it was thought proper that he reverently recognize other gods in their place; thus, a history presenting Severus Alexander for the reader’s admiration relates how diligently he offered worship to Jupiter on the Capitoline.

While also possessing representations of his lares (home gods), deified emperors of most fond memory, and such superhuman individuals as the Greeks would have dubbed “heroes,” such as Apollonius the holy man of Tyana, Christ, Abraham, and Orpheus in a chapel attached to his domestic quarters. The chapel’s furnishing is recounted by a most doubtful source; nonetheless, if it is not historical, it is at least indicative of ideas.

A Roman monarch was expected to express not only the piety of the city and its population, but also that of his entire empire. Imperial religion incorporated both Roman and non-Roman religiosity.

Septimius Severus was from a Romanized Tripolitan family that had only lately risen to prominence. He was born in the North African city of Leptis Magna and favored his homeland throughout his reign. He was married to Julia Domna of Emesa, a Syrian from a prominent priestly family, and surrounded himself with Easterners. He had been a senator and a skilled general, but he was most importantly a good administrator and a judge.

He despised Romans, Italians, and senators and purposely depended on the loyal Danubian army that had brought him to power, and he was always concerned about the provinces and the lower classes. Although he attempted to capitalize on the Antonines’ fame by calling himself the son of Marcus Aurelius and naming his own son Marcus Aurelius Antoninus, he actually pursued a completely different program—a severe yet practical one that opened careers to new social classes. He was unconcerned with the prestige of the Senate, where he had many opponents, and preferred the equites. The army thus became the cradle of the equestrian order and the focus of his entire attention.

The ready forces were bolstered by the formation of three new legions led by equites, one of which, the Second Parthica, was stationed near Rome. Unlike Vespasian, who owed his power to the army but knew how to keep it in its appropriate place, Septimius Severus formed a sort of military monarchy in response to the urgency of external concerns. The Praetorian Guard was changed into an imperial guard, with the elite of the Danube army as the most important element, after the removal of the old staff of Italian descent. Auxiliary forces were increased by the formation of 1,000-man groups (infantry cohorts) and cavalry troops, which were often furnished with Parthian-style mail armour.

Noncommissioned officers rising through the ranks now had additional opportunities: centurions and noncommissioned grades may achieve the tribunate and join the equestrian order. Thus, a common Illyrian peasant might rise to positions of power: this was unquestionably the most significant component of the “Severan revolution.” The provincial legions had long been Romanized, thus this “democratization” was not necessarily a barbarism. Their pay was raised, and donativa were distributed more regularly.

Soldiers were now fed at the expense of the provincials. Veterans were given land, primarily in Syria and Africa. The right to valid marriage, previously denied by Augustus, was extended to practically all troops, and noncommissioned officers were granted the ability to organize collegia (private associations). Because it had been more than a century since the last hike in army pay, and despite a consistent (though sluggish) rise in the level of prices, Severus raised the legionary’s basic rate from 300 to 500 denarii, with comparable increases in other ranks. The reflection of this increase in precious metal content in silver currency recalls an earlier point: imperial income were confined within the tight bounds of political, economic and administrative reasons.

Septimius Severus’ administrative achievements were significant: he clearly defined the powers of the city prefect; he entrusted the praetorian prefecture to first-class jurists, such as Papinian; and he increased the number of procurators, who were recruited for financial posts from among Africans and Easterners and for government posts (praesides) from among Danubian officers. Italy lost its privileges and was subjected, like with the other provinces, to the new annona, a levy paid in kind that guaranteed the maintenance of the army and officials. The resulting increase in expenditures—for administration, troop wages and donativa, Roman plebs maintenance, and construction—forced the emperor to devalue the denarius in 194.

But the confiscations increased his personal fortune, the res privata, which had been previously created by Antoninus.

Severus’ social strategy favored both provincial senatorial recruitment (Easterners, Africans, and even Egyptians), resulting in a substantial fall in the ratio of Italian senators, and the elevation of the equestrian order, which began to fill the prince’s council with its jurists. The cities, which the Antonines had favored, were increasingly regarded as administrative wheels in the service of the state: the wealthiest decuriones (municipal councillors) were financially responsible for levying taxes, and it was for this purpose that Egypt’s towns eventually obtained a boul (municipal senate).

The burden of taxation and compelled government duty was exacerbated by many transportation responsibilities for the army and annona service, which were governed by jurists through pecuniary, personal, or combined charges. The state was vigilant in keeping the decuriones in service to their cities and in exerting control over their administration through the appointment of curatores rei publicae, or central government officials. In theory, the lower classes were shielded from the rich’s abuses, but in practice, they were forced to serve the state through limitations on shipping and commercial corporations. Membership may imply obligatory contributions of wealth or labor to such public demands as Rome’s food supply.

The state became more and more a policeman, and the excesses of power of numerous grain merchants (frumentarii) weighed heavily on the little man.

Imperial power, without repudiating the ideological themes of the principate, rested in fact on the army and sought its legitimacy in heredity: the two sons of Septimius Severus, Caracalla and Geta, were first proclaimed Caesars, the former in 196, the latter in 198; later, they were directly associated with imperial power through bestowal of the title of Augustus, in 198 and 209, respectively. Thus, during the last three years of Septimius Severus’ reign, the empire had three Augusti at its head.

Caracalla

He maintained the equites and jurists who had governed with his father, but he implemented his father’s militaristic and egalitarian program to an even greater extent. He upped army pay even more while also embarking on a massive construction program that quickly destroyed his father’s money. He ordered senators to pay large payments, raised inheritance and emancipation taxes, and frequently demanded the aurum coronarium (a gold tribute), destroying the urban middle classes. To offset the impacts of a general price rise and his and his father’s larger and better-paid army, he issued a new silver currency, the antoninianus. It was designed to take the place of basic denarius at double its value, though containing only about one and a half times its worth in precious metal. The only historical source to suggest Caracalla’s motive for his gift of universal citizenship, Dio Cassius, states that it was meant to increase revenues by bringing new elements of the population under tax obligations formerly limited to Romans only.

Despite his lack of military prowess, Caracalla selected as his patron Alexander the Great, whom he greatly adored, and began on an active foreign policy. He fought successfully against the Teutonic tribes of the upper Danube, among whom the Alamanni and Capri of the middle Danube first appeared; he often prudently mixed military operations with negotiation and gave significant subsidies and money (in sound currency) to the barbarians, causing much discontent. His desire was to win in the East like his ancient hero, Trajan, and, more recently, his own father. He invaded Armenia and Adiabene and annexed Osroëne in northwest Mesopotamia, joining it to the part of Mesopotamia taken by Septimius Severus. In April 217, while pursuing his march on the Tigris, he was assassinated on the order of one of his praetorian prefects, Marcus Opellius Macrinus.

Macrinus

Macrinus was crowned emperor by the soldiers, who were unaware of his role in his predecessor’s death. For the first time, an eque had acceded to the empire after serving just as a financial manager. The senators reluctantly welcomed this equestrian order member, who proved to be reasonable and conciliatory; but, the troops loathed him as a simple civilian, and the ancient authors were hostile to him. His reign was brief, and we know little about him. He made an ignominious peace with the Parthians, securing Mesopotamia for Rome in exchange for great quantities of money. In order to gain favor, he reversed Caracalla’s tax increases and lowered military spending. A plot against him was soon organized: two young grandnephews of Septimius Severus were persuaded by their mothers and especially by their grandmother, Julia Maesa, the sister of Julia Domna (who had recently died), to reach for imperial power.

The eldest, Bassianus, was brought to Syria’s warriors, who had been purchased with gold, and proclaimed in April 218. Shortly after, Macrinus and his son were defeated and executed (whom he had associated with him on the throne).

The new emperor was introduced as the son of Caracalla, whose name he assumed (Marcus Aurelius Antoninus). However, he is better remembered as Elagabalus, the god whose high priest he was and whom he rapidly and foolishly attempted to impose on the Romans, despite his grandmother’s advice of moderation. He was fourteen years old when he caused himself to be despised by his extravagant spending, orgies, and the dissolute behavior of his entourage.

The praetorians killed him in 222 and proclaimed as emperor his first cousin, Alexianus, who took the name of Severus Alexander.

Despite his education and noble intentions, Severus Alexander shown some character flaws by yielding to the advice of his mother, Mamaea, and grandmother, Maesa. The Scriptores historiae Augustae, a collection of emperor biographies, attributed to him a comprehensive program of Senate-friendly reforms, but these reforms are not referenced elsewhere. His advisers were equites, as they were under the reign of Septimius Severus. Ulpian, the praetorian prefect, was the best jurist of this period, and the essential objectives of the dynasty’s founder were continued, but with less vigour.

This loss of vitality had disastrous consequences: in Persia, the Arsacids were succeeded in 224 by the more ambitious Ssnid dynasty, which intended to reclaim the Achaemenids’ previous possessions in the East. Their early attacks were halted in 232 by a campaign that was poorly managed by the emperor and alienated the army due to its ineptness. There were regular riots in Rome, and Ulpian was assassinated by the praetorians as early as 223. The soldiers revolted again and assassinated Severus Alexander and his mother when assembled on the Rhine to face the Teutons.

A coarse and uneducated but energetic soldier, Maximinus the Thracian, succeeded him without difficulty in March 235. The Severan dynasty had come to an end.

Official religion cannot be claimed to have existed in the sense of being imposed by the state on people. However, the assertion requires qualification. The cults of Rome were clearly official within the city; they were maintained by the public purse and the emperor’s devotion, at least if he lived up to what everyone perceived to be his responsibilities. Camps in the army also featured shrines where images of the emperor were presented for adoration on specific days of the year. A 3rd-century calendar discovered in an Eastern city outlines the religious events to be performed for the garrison regiment throughout the year, including a number of the oldest and most customary ones in Rome.

Many Western cities gave a distinctive size and prominence to a temple where Jupiter or the imperial family, or both, were worshiped voluntarily rather than by directives from on high. The imperial cult’s pervasiveness has already been stressed. All of these demonstrations of piety gave the empire’s religion a “Roman” flavor.

On the other hand, the empire had been formed from a large number of parts, each of which had its own completely matured way of life; they were not about to surrender it, nor were they ever requested to do so by their conquerors. The sustained vitality of local cults, combined with a typically reverent knowledge of one’s neighbors’ cults, defined the empire’s religious life as a whole. While practicing more traditional piety, the emperor, for example, may openly offer personal veneration to his favorite god, a god outside the usual Roman circle. When he traveled, he would perform rituals at the main shrines of each town he visited. What was anticipated eemperor was expected of everyone: respectful toleration of all components in the religious amalgam. Of course, there were differences according to individual temperament and degree of education; approaches to religion might be literal or philosophical, fervent or relaxed.

Rural societies were more conservative than urban societies. However, the whole can be considered an integrated system.

Just as the special power of the Greek gods gained recognition among the Etruscans and, later, among the Romans in remote centuries BC, or as Serapis in Hellenistic times came to be worshiped in scattered parts of the Ptolemies’ realm—Macedonia and Ionia, for example—so, too, the news of unfamiliar gods was carried by their worshipers to distant parts of the Roman Empire, where they, too, worked their wonders, attracted reverent attention, The Pax Romana fostered much more than just material goods trade.

It made the exchange of ideas inevitable in a more densely woven and complicated fabric than the Mediterranean world had ever seen, in which the Phrygian Cybele could also be found in Gaul and the Italian Silvanus in northern Africa.

Religious developments in the Eastern provinces differed from those in the West over the centuries from Augustus to Severus Alexander. In the East, the deeper blending of previously mingled cultures fostered tolerance, eroding their edges. It became conceivable to perceive obvious parallels between Selene, Artemis, and Isis, Zeus, Haribol, Helios, and Serapis, and Cybele, Ma, and Bellona.

Recognition of fundamental commonalities could lead to a form of monotheism, in which local deities were no more than restricted manifestations of bigger truths for theologians. A meeting with Neoplatonism, the school of thought that eventually grew to be highly regarded, was therefore natural.

On the other hand, religious change and development may be seen more easily in Italy, the Danube provinces, and the Western provinces through the influx of believers of Easter deities. Mithra was the most popular of these, though Isis, Cybele, and Jupiter of Doliche were close behind. In the final chapters of his novel, The Golden Ass, Apuleius depicts how a young man is tortured.

Isis as a famous goddess with certain well-known rites and attributes, to a single-minded devotion to her. Aelius Aristides, a famous rhetorician of the time, recounts in his spiritual diary the development of a similar devotion in himself to Asclepius. Both the fictional and the factual account give a central place to benefits miraculously granted. It was by such means that piety was ordinarily warmed to a special fervour, whether or not that process should be called conversion. In any case, it produced the testimonies—votive inscriptions, temples, and so forth—through which it is possible to trace the spread of foreign cults. Eastern cults, however, also introduced to the West complex liturgies, beliefs underlying beliefs that could be explained in especially dramatic ways to special devotees (“mysteries”), and much rich symbolism.

Of no cult was this more true than Mithraism, known to the 20th century through excavation of the underground shrines that it preferred.