We have now traced the progress and decline of the Roman constitution through its several stages. We have seen it pass from a monarchy into a patrician oligarchy, from a patrician oligarchy into a limited republic, from a limited republic into an oligarchy of wealth; and now, after a century of civil war, in which the state swayed from one extreme to the other, we close with the contemplation of an absolute despotism.[137] Every page of the latter portion of our narrative shows how inevitably events were tending to this issue. The Roman world had long been preparing for it. At no time had such authority been altogether alien from the minds of the people of Rome. Dictatorships were frequent in their earlier history. In later times the consuls were, by the will of the senate, raised to dictatorial power to meet emergencies, military or civil. The despotic commands conferred upon Sulla and Pompey, the powers seized first by Cæsar, and after him by the triumvirate, were all of the same form as the authority conferred upon Octavian—that is, all were, in form at least, temporary and provisional. The disorders of the state required the intervention of one or more persons of absolute authority. And whether power was vested in a dictator, such as Sulla and Cæsar; in a sole consul, such as Pompey; in a commission of three, such as the triumvirate of Antony, Octavian, and Lepidus; or in an imperator, such as Octavian alone, the constitutional principle was the same. These despotic powers were in every case, except in the cases of Sulla and Cæsar, granted for a definite term; even Cæsar’s first dictatorships were conferred for limited periods. The triumvirate was renewed at intervals of five years, the imperial rule of Octavian at intervals of ten. In theory these powers were conferred exceptionally, for a temporary purpose; and when the purpose was served, the exception was to yield to the rule. Even in the reign of Octavian there were some persons credulous enough to expect a restoration of the republic.
Octavian’s adroitness has often been commended. But he had many examples to warn and to guide him. Above all, the precedent of his uncle, the great dictator, proved that the Romans were not prepared to accept even order and good government at the price of royalty; and he dexterously avoided the danger. The cruelties of the triumviral proscription he was able to throw chiefly upon Antony. But these very cruelties stood him in stead; for they induced men to estimate at more than its real worth the clemency which distinguished his sole government. He avoided jealousy by assuming a power professedly only temporary.
The title by which he liked to be known was that of “prince”; for he revived in his own person the title