Although well educated and full of good intentions, Severus Alexander showed some weakness of character by submitting to the counsel of his mother, Mamaea, and of his grandmother, Maesa. The Scriptores historiae Augustae, a collection of biographies of the emperors, attributes to him a complete program of reforms favourable to the Senate, but these reforms are not mentioned elsewhere. As in the time of Septimius Severus, his counselors were equites. Ulpian, the praetorian prefect, was the greatest jurist of this period, and the basic policies of the founder of the dynasty were carried on, but with less energy. This weakening of energy had disastrous results: in Persia, the Arsacids were replaced in 224 by the more ambitious Sāsānid dynasty, who hoped to recover the former possessions of the Achaemenids in the East. Their initial attacks were stopped in 232 by a campaign that was, however, poorly conducted by the emperor and that alienated the army as a result of its ineptitude. In Rome there were frequent disorders, and, as early as 223, Ulpian had been killed by the praetorians. While gathered on the Rhine to fight the Teutons, the soldiers once again revolted and killed Severus Alexander and his mother. 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. Religious and cultural life in the 3rd century
On the right bank of the Tiber in Rome, in the least fashionable section of town among Lebanese and Jewish labourers, Elagabalus built an elegant temple to his ancestral god; he was no doubt in those precincts very well received when he presided personally at its inauguration. Yet the world that counted, the world of senators and centurions, reacted with indignation. Within the capital the ruler was expected to honour the gods of the capital, the ancient Roman ones. At the same time, it was deemed appropriate that he reverently recognize other gods, in their place; for this reason a biography presenting Severus Alexander for the reader’s admiration records how scrupulously he offered worship on the Capitoline to Jupiter, while also having, in a chapel attached to his domestic quarters, the images of his lares (household gods), of the deified emperors of most beloved memory, and of such superhuman beings as the Greeks would have called “heroes,” including Apollonius the holy man of Tyana, Christ, Abraham, and Orpheus. The furnishing of the chapel is described by a most dubious source; but if it is not history, it is at least revealing of ideals. A Roman ruler was to express not only the piety of the capital and its citizens but also that of all his people throughout his empire. Imperial religion was properly compounded of both Roman and non-Roman piety.
Official religion can hardly be said to have existed in the sense of being pressed on people by the state. But the statement needs qualification. The cults of Rome were certainly official in the city itself; they were supported out of the state treasury and by the devotion of the emperor, at least if he lived up to what everyone felt were his responsibilities. In the army, too, camps had shrines in which portraits of the emperor were displayed for veneration on certain days of the year. A 3rd-century calendar has been found in an Eastern city that specifies for the garrison regiment the religious ceremonies to be carried out during the year, including a number of the oldest and most traditional ones in Rome. Many Western cities accorded special size and prominence to a temple in which Jupiter or the imperial family or both together were worshiped not by orders from on high, it is true, but spontaneously. The ubiquity of the imperial cult has already been emphasized. All these manifestations of piety gave some quality of “Romanness” to the religion of the empire.
On the other hand, the empire had been assembled from a great number of parts, whose peoples already had their own way of life fully matured; they were not about to surrender it nor, in fact, were they ever asked to do so by their conquerors. What characterized the religious life of the empire as a whole was the continued vitality of local cults in combination with a generally reverent awareness of one’s neighbours’ cults. The emperor, for example, might openly offer personal veneration to his favourite god, a god outside the traditional Roman circle, while also practicing a more conventional piety. When he was on his travels, he would offer cult at the chief shrines of all the localities he visited. What was expected of the emperor 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 society was more conservative than urban. But the whole can fairly be called an integrated system.
Just as the special power of the Greek gods had gained recognition among the Etruscans and, subsequently, among the Romans in remote centuries bc or as Serapis in Hellenistic times had come to be worshiped in scattered parts of the Ptolemies’ realm—Macedonia and Ionia, for example—so at last the news of unfamiliar gods was carried by their worshipers to distant places in the Roman Empire where, too, they worked their wonders, attracted reverent attention, and received a pillared lodging, a priesthood, and daily offerings. The Pax Romana encouraged a great deal more than commerce in material objects. It made inevitable the exchange of ideas in a more richly woven and complex fabric than the Mediterranean world had ever seen, in which the Phrygian Cybele was at home also in Gaul and the Italian Silvanus in northern Africa.
Religious developments in the Eastern provinces during the centuries from Augustus to Severus Alexander followed a somewhat different course from those in the West. In the East the further jumbling together of already well-mixed traditions encouraged a tolerance that eroded their edges. It became possible to see predominant similarities in Selene, Artemis, and Isis, in Zeus, Iarhibol, Helios, and Serapis, or in Cybele, Ma, and Bellona. From recognition of basic similarities one might reason to a sort of monotheism, by the lights of which, for persons given to theology, local deities were no more than narrow expressions of greater truths. A juncture was then natural with Neoplatonism, the school of philosophy that later came to be held in high regard.
On the other hand, in Italy, the Danube provinces, and the Western provinces, religious change and development can be more easily seen in the immigration of worshipers of Easter deities. Those took root and became popular—none more so than Mithra, though Isis, Cybele, and Jupiter of Doliche were close behind. Apuleius in the closing chapters of his novel usually called The Golden Ass in English describes how a young man is brought from mere consciousness of 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. The rise of Christianity