Augustus, page 25
With a great show of reluctance, Caesar eventually agreed. Dio saw the whole episode as a charade. With no intention of giving up his supremacy, Caesar simply wanted a public show of support, to appear a reluctant servant of the state forced to accept continued responsibility by his own sense of duty and by universal consent – the Popular Assembly would meet and confirm the decision of the Senate in the next few days. It was a skilful piece of showmanship, with the Senate and People enthusiastically approving, even if behind the scenes they did not really have any other choice.28
It is not clear whether the details of Caesar’s future role were settled on 13 January or in the days to follow. One honour was definitely awarded to him on that first day, namely the right to display an oak wreath on the porch of his house above the door. This was identified with the corona civica, Rome’s highest award for bravery, given to someone who had saved the life of another citizen. Traditionally the rescued man made the wreath from oak leaves and presented it in person, acknowledging his debt to the rescuer and symbolising a permanent obligation to him. Julius Caesar had won this award during his early military service in his late teens. In 27 BC the symbol portrayed his heir as the saviour of all citizens and once again insisted that his victory was for the good of all. Around this time coins were minted bearing the oak wreath and the inscription ‘for saving citizens’ (Ob Civis Servatos). In a sense, all placed themselves in his debt. The laurels of a victor were also added as permanent decoration to the porch of his house.29
The Senate did not meet on 14 January, because it was a dies nefas – an unlucky or ill-omened day when it was not permitted to conduct public business. Such days came into the calendar after military disasters or dreadful occurrences. In this particular case the black mark placed on the day was recent, introduced by the Senate in 30 BC because it was the birthday of Mark Antony. There was a meeting on 15 January, although it was cut short because of the need to celebrate a religious festival, and then the senators convened for a full session on 16 January. We cannot allocate many of the decisions to specific days, but the end result is certain.
Under concerted ‘pressure’ from the senators, Caesar agreed to accept responsibility for some provinces, on the basis that these were most in need of protection from foreign enemies or internal disorder. As a result he took control of all of the Spanish Peninsula, where conquest was incomplete, all of Gaul, where the occupation was still fairly recent and stability threatened by the German tribes from across the Rhine, and Syria, so often disturbed in the civil wars and with Parthia as a neighbour. He also retained control of Egypt, perhaps on the basis that it was a very new province. The entire command was voted to him for ten years, although he stressed that he hoped to return some of the regions to senatorial control earlier than this, should he succeed in bringing the areas under full control more quickly. The remaining provinces were placed under the supervision of the Senate.
Caesar’s provinces contained the greater part of the Roman army. There were legions in Macedonia, where Crassus’ recent success suggested that there was no need to include the province among the regions felt most vulnerable and so in need of Caesar’s direct supervision. Africa also contained several legions. Otherwise the senatorial provinces contained no significant military forces. The soldiers in Macedonia and Africa may well have continued to take an oath to Caesar, as was certainly the case within a few years.
Some details of the system were set down during these days, and others added in the future. Since Caesar could not be everywhere at once, legates were to be chosen to take responsibility for regions within his large province. They controlled areas equivalent in size and made decisions similar in every way to the provincial governors of the past, but held only delegated imperium. In contrast, senatorial provinces would be governed by proconsuls, chosen by lot from former magistrates who possessed imperium in their own right. With the probable exception of Macedonia and Africa in the early years, the dress and symbols of these men were overtly civilian, whereas the imperial legates wore swords and military cloaks. There were not separate careers in imperial and senatorial service, as men moved between the different classes of posts. Outside Egypt, Caesar chose senators to serve as his legates and command in his provinces. This ensured that there were plenty of opportunities for the senatorial class. Men could win honours to add to the reputation of their families, and if the honours and titles open to legates were slightly different to those of proconsular governors who held imperium in their own right, they were nevertheless still honours. The aristocratic urge to excel and win fame continued under the new system.30
Caesar was above such competition since he had no peers, and since he chose the legates he also controlled the men who were granted all the major military commands. The independence of proconsular governors of Macedonia and Africa was limited. It is doubtful that they were permitted to raise fresh troops, and neither had the capacity to oppose the man who controlled the rest of the army, even assuming they could win the loyalty of the legions under their command. A large part of every senator’s career came to depend on winning Caesar’s favour.
No one could have had any doubts about Caesar’s supremacy. His ten-year command mirrored earlier extraordinary commands of the likes of Pompey and Julius Caesar. It helped to create the façade of a public servant, taking on heavy responsibilities for the common good. The wider population are unlikely to have felt any qualms about this. Extraordinary commands had a proven track record of getting things done far more effectively than the traditional pattern of frequent transfer of responsibilities from one ambitious magistrate to another. Some senators may have felt the same way, and even those who did not drew solace from the chance of participating in the system. There was no other realistic alternative for as long as Caesar controlled the overwhelming bulk of the army. Dio notes cynically that one of the first things Caesar did after he was ‘persuaded’ to accept a major role in the state was to get the Senate to pass a decree awarding a substantial payrise to his praetorian cohorts. The evidence is poor, but these probably received an annual salary of 375 denarii instead of the 225 denarii paid to legionaries. There were nine cohorts of praetorians, so they were kept just below the nominal strength of a ten-cohort legion, and several cohorts were routinely stationed in or near Rome itself. This was in contrast to Julius Caesar, who had dismissed his bodyguard early in 44 BC. Armed force remained the ultimate guarantee of Caesar’s supremacy.31
Much of the senators’ time in the meetings on 13 and especially 15 and 16 January was taken up with praising Caesar, and awarding him permanent honours. This may well have been an area where members could exercise genuine independence as regards detail, although no doubt the debate was shaped both by Caesar’s selection of the order of speakers and by contributions made by men who had already been primed. Considerable momentum quickly gathered to grant Caesar an additional cognomen as a mark of his incredible past and future services to the state. Some speakers suggested that he be called Romulus, linking him for ever with the founder of Rome, since he had renewed and effectively refounded the City.
As well as founder, Romulus was also Rome’s first king, and one tradition maintained that instead of dying he had been raised to the heavens to become a god. Yet some of the associations were less attractive. The foundation of Rome had begun with fratricide, Romulus’ twin brother being killed with a spade, and that was an uncomfortable thought for a generation who had seen so much civil war. An alternative tradition explained the disappearance of Rome’s first king less grandly, claiming that he had been torn to pieces by a mob of senators. After a while, opinion in the Senate shifted away from the idea of giving Caesar the name. Suetonius claims that he and his close advisers were keen, but if so they must have changed their minds at some point. That it was considered so openly and seriously tells us a good deal about the mood of the times. Senators were eager to vote honours to so powerful a man. Whether or not they liked him and what he had done, no one doubted the reality of his supremacy.32
Eventually a vote was taken on a proposal made by Munatius Plancus, the same man who had once painted himself blue and donned a fishtail to dance for Antony and Cleopatra, and who had later defected to Caesar, bringing news of his rival’s will. Plancus proposed the name Augustus, and the resolution was passed with a sweeping – perhaps unanimous – vote as senators moved to show their acquiescence by standing beside him. The presiding consul now became formally Imperator Caesar Augustus divi filius. No Roman had ever had such a name, and it is easy for familiarity to make us forget just how novel it was. Augustus carried heavy religious overtones of the very Roman tradition of seeking divine guidance and approval through augury. Ennius, Rome’s earliest and most revered poet, spoke of the City being founded with ‘august augury’ in a passage as familiar to Romans as the most famous Shakespearean quotes are to us today.
Caesar Augustus – sometimes the order was reversed to Augustus Caesar for added emphasis – was special, unlike anyone else, and, unlike the ten-year provincial command, the new name was a permanent honour. It was hard, perhaps impossible, to imagine Imperator Caesar Augustus, the son of a god, ever retiring to private life, or ever being approached in glory, auctoritas, and pre-eminence by anyone else. Earlier precedents – for instance, Pompey’s extraordinary commands, and his distant supervision of the Spanish provinces from 54 BC onwards – fall far short of Caesar Augustus’ position. Other men had won grand names in the past – Sulla was Felix (lucky/blessed) and Pompey Magnus (great), but none had held so grand and sacred a name as Augustus. The only person to wield comparable power and pre-eminence was Julius Caesar. The convention of referring to his heir as Augustus and not Caesar Augustus can conceal the great similarities between their places in the state.
At some point a further honour was awarded, this time by vote of the people, namely the setting-up of a golden ‘shield of virtues’ (culpeus virtutis) in the Curia Julia, praising his virtus, his justice, his clemency and his piety towards gods and country. The Res Gestae associate this with the granting of the name, but it is possible that the award came later, perhaps on the first anniversary of the award of the name. A copy of the shield survives from Arles in southern France and is expressly dated to his eighth consulship in 26 BC. Originally it was one of many set up throughout the provinces, and many coins carry the slogan CL(upeus) V(irtutis). The virtues are strongly reminiscent of similar praise of Julius Caesar and there is no reason to think that this echo was anything other than deliberate.33
Caesar Augustus held a personal, permanent pre-eminence in the state, matched in the past only by his father. Like Julius Caesar he continued to hold the consulship every year. The charade of handing over power to the Senate and being handed it straight back was important – and more successful than the confused message given at the Lupercal in 44 BC. This should not make us focus so much on the few differences in Caesar Augustus’ self-presentation and conduct that we are blind to the overwhelming – and very public – similarities between him and his father. In a sense, he had now fulfilled his teenage announcement of his intention to win the honours and offices of his father. Julius Caesar once dismissed the res publica as a ‘mere name without form or substance’, although we do not know when and in what context he expressed the view. His heir was more tactful, and avoided the abolished title of dictator, but the difference is more apparent than real. He was also divi filius, the ‘son of a god’, and both this and the name Caesar constantly paraded his connection with the murdered Julius Caesar. The monuments adorning Rome and associated with him already far surpassed the ones celebrating the dictator during his lifetime.34
There was another similarity in behaviour. Just as his father had planned to leave for major campaigns in 44 BC, Caesar Augustus, following the award of these honours, intended to leave Rome and go to his provinces in the west for several years. By the end of the year he was in Gaul, but we do not know when he actually left Rome. There is no reason to believe that he would particularly have wished to be absent when Crassus triumphed in July. This was not the only triumph celebrated that year, for another was staged by Marcus Valerius Messalla Corvinus in September. Caesar had been in the City for the triumphs in 28 BC. If he had already left before Crassus processed along the Via Sacra it was because he wanted to begin his work in the provinces before the year was out. With him went the teenage Marcellus and Tiberius to gain their first experience of the army by serving as military tribunes. It was normal for young men to learn in this way, by accompanying relatives to the provinces. More unusually, it is probable that Livia accompanied her husband, and this would certainly become her habit on his frequent journeys throughout the remainder of their marriage. Governors’ wives had in the past stayed at home, so it had been surprising when Octavia accompanied Antony to Athens. Augustus Caesar was also willing to ignore this old convention.35
13
TO OVERCOME THE PROUD IN WAR
‘. . . remember, Roman – for these are your arts – that you have to rule the nations by your power, to add good custom to peace, to spare the conquered and overcome the proud in war.’ Virgil, twenties BC.1
Before Caesar Augustus left Rome the gates of the Temple of Janus were reopened, symbolising an end to the officially declared peace. The man who had accepted Spain, Gaul, Syria and Egypt as his province was going to war, beginning the task of restoring (Roman) order and stability to these regions. This was to be war fought in a distant land against a foreign enemy and so did not threaten a return to the upheaval and chaos of recent years. Instead it was part of the restoration of health to the res publica and the mood was enthusiastic, with excited talk of the conquest of Britain.
Julius Caesar had twice landed on the island, claiming that this was necessary for the security of Gaul since the Britons had sometimes sent warriors to aid chieftains on the continent. In 54 BC the major tribes of the south-east capitulated and agreed to pay tribute to Rome, but we do not know how often this was sent in years filled first with major rebellions in Gaul and then the long disruption of the civil wars. Markets which in the past were controlled by Gaulish middlemen were opened to Roman merchants as a result of Julius Caesar’s activities, and by the end of the century such traders would establish a permanent settlement at Londinium on the Thames. Many Romans clearly expected more, and eagerly anticipated the formal reduction of the still-exotic island to become a permanent province. Poets readily ranked the Britons alongside the Parthians as existing enemies whose total defeat was both inevitable and richly deserved. A few years later Horace declared:
Augustus will be deemed a god,
on earth when the Britons and the
deadly Parthians have been added to our empire.
Sometimes the Indians were also included as another people destined to submit to Rome and its great leader, just as they had once succumbed to Alexander the Great. Victories over dangerous and exotic foreign races were unambiguously good things, and a fitting service to the state on the part of its greatest servant.2
Around this time, a power struggle among the tribes of south-eastern Britain appeared to offer a tempting opportunity for intervention. In due course, this would lead to the domination of the wider region by a confederation of two tribes north of the Thames, the Catuvellauni and Trinovantes, allowing their kings to monopolise access to the luxury goods offered by Roman traders. On at least two occasions during Augustus’ reign defeated British rulers fled to the Roman Empire and appealed to him to use his influence and army to restore them to their thrones. Such appeals to Senate or emperors were common throughout Roman history, and tended only to be granted when it was convenient for Rome’s leaders.
Caesar Augustus may have considered a British expedition. A fleet of transport ships was gathered on the Aquitanian coast of Gaul, which suggests a degree of preparation. Perhaps it was merely contingency planning, or intended to reinforce active diplomacy. In the event this resolved the situation to Augustus’ satisfaction. The details are obscure, and we have no real idea either of the problem or the mechanisms used to resolve it. On balance it seems unlikely that Augustus was genuinely keen to attack Britain. Julius Caesar’s example suggested that it would take at the very least several years of campaigning, offered modest profits, and was a risky enterprise. In both 55 BC and 54 BC he had lost much of his fleet to storms and nearly been left stranded on the island to winter unsupplied and unsupported in the midst of hostile tribes. The scale of the challenge was also uncertain. It was another century before a squadron of Roman warships circumnavigated the north of Britain, confirming that it was an island and getting a clearer idea of its true size. Without more serious provocation, Augustus decided against conquest, displaying the same caution that deterred him from risking war with Parthia unless it became unavoidable. The poets would continue to sing of ultimate victory over both peoples, but for the moment Caesar Augustus had other things in mind.3
He went from Rome to Gaul, where he spent several months holding assizes, receiving petitions, and beginning the process of holding a census. It was barely a generation since Julius Caesar had conquered all the territory west of the Rhine and as far as the English Channel and Atlantic coasts, and the final shape of the settled provinces was not yet clear. Even so the visit was brief, and by the end of the year Augustus was at Tarraco (modern Tarragona), the capital of the province of Nearer Spain, which would soon be renamed Tarraconensis. It was there that he took up his eighth consulship on 1 January 26 BC, this time with Statilius Taurus as colleague, who was in Rome. Recent disturbances by some of the few remaining independent communities in the north-west were the immediate pretext for his visit to Spain, but there is a good chance that it had always been his planned destination and that it was there he planned to fight his war.4
