Augustus, page 4
Catiline was less fortunate. Like Julius Caesar he was a patrician, his family part of Rome’s most ancient aristocracy. Plebeians, including Caius Octavius and thus his son, were far more numerous, and over the centuries many of these forced their way into the elite. Several of the patrician families were eclipsed and dwindled to obscurity. Neither Catiline’s nor Julius Caesar’s ancestors had enjoyed much electoral success for several centuries. Both men were determined to change this, and each was charismatic, talented and had acquired reputations as rakes that at least kept their names in the public mind, if only as subjects for gossip. Yet Julius Caesar kept succeeding while Catiline’s career began to stall.12
A prosecution for his conduct while governor of the African province prevented Catiline from standing for the consulship for 65 BC and 64 BC. In the next contest his increasingly wild comments alienated too many influential people and he was beaten by a skilful campaign managed by Cicero. Defeat at the hands of a ‘new man’ was especially humiliating for the aristocrat of ancient lineage. Catiline dubbed Cicero a mere ‘resident alien’ in Rome. The other winner was Caius Antonius, one of the men expelled from the Senate in 70 BC and now working his way back up the political ladder. Although he and Catiline had supported each other in their campaigns, Antonius was won over to neutrality when Cicero voluntarily gave him his own province of Macedonia, the command allocated to him by lot for the year after his consulship. It was a lucrative region where an unscrupulous governor could readily restore his fortunes.13
Yet Catiline tried again in July 63 BC at elections presided over by Cicero as consul. Bribery was once more rampant on all sides, and the candidates were backed by gangs of supporters, so that Cicero arrived with his own followers and wore a breastplate under his toga, which he ‘accidentally’ revealed to show his determination. There was intimidation, but no serious violence, and Catiline was defeated for a second time.14
Catiline was desperate, as were quite a few other ambitious men. If a senator sold his lands to pay his debts, then he would probably do so at a loss for the market was poor; but, more importantly, he would lose this essential requirement of rank and any chance of a political future. For some, the choice seemed either political extinction or revolution. In the countryside of Etruria an associate called Manlius who had served in Sulla’s legions as a centurion was raising a disparate army from the poor and desperate. Sullan veterans who had failed to make a go of the farms given to them when they left the army – because the land was poor, the economy bad, or simply through their own mistakes – joined former Marians, and others who felt revolution was their only hope. They would march carrying an eagle once borne by one of Marius’ legions – not from the Civil War, but from the great campaigns when he had saved Italy from a barbarian horde. Yet at first it was not clear if or when it would come to open rebellion.15
On 21 October the Senate passed its ultimate decree, the senatus consultum ultimum, which called upon the consuls to take any measures necessary to protect the res publica. Effectively it declared a state of emergency, but opinion was divided over how far this meant laws could be suspended. The same measure had been used against Caius Gracchus in 122 BC, and again in 100 BC, 88 BC and 78 BC. In many ways it was an admission that the traditional mechanisms of the Republic were inadequate when there was a threat of serious internal upheaval.
Catiline was still in Rome, and continued to attend meetings of the Senate, even after Manlius openly rebelled at the end of October. Cicero’s public accusations became ever more virulent, but an attempt by the conspirators to assassinate him failed. Finally, on the night of 8 November, Catiline fled to join Manlius. His confederates left behind in Rome proved quite staggeringly incompetent, clumsily approaching the ambassadors of a Gaulish tribe, the Allobroges, in the hope of securing cavalry for the rebel army. The Gauls instead went to the authorities, and the conspirators were caught red-handed and arrested.
Four senators were taken prisoner, the most senior being Publius Cornelius Lentulus, currently praetor and one of the men expelled from the Senate in 70 BC. His wife was a Julia, third cousin to Julius Caesar and already widowed once before. For a while Lentulus and the others protested their innocence when brought before the Senate. Yet as the evidence piled up their determination crumbled and each confessed, leaving the question of what should be done with them. Their fate was decided at a meeting held in the Temple of Concord on 5 December – a location no doubt chosen as a deliberate plea for unity, but perhaps also as a reminder of strong action taken in the past, for it had been built by the man who led the suppression of Caius Gracchus.
In the debate that followed, speaker after speaker advocated the death penalty. Caius Octavius was too junior a senator for his opinion to be asked, but Julius Caesar was praetor-elect for the following year as well as pontifex maximus, and Cicero soon called on him for his opinion. People were claiming that Atia’s flamboyant uncle was part of the conspiracy, and yet, rather than prove his loyalty to the Republic by agreeing with the rest, Julius Caesar boldly argued against execution. He was right to say that it was unconstitutional to do this without trial, although his own suggestion of sending each man to a different town in Italy to be held in custody lacked any precedent at all. The Romans had no prisons to hold criminals for any length of time, let alone permanently.
The consensus began to weaken, and for a moment it looked as if the ambitious Julius Caesar would win great fame for single-handedly changing the mind of the Senate. Then another up-and-coming man, the tribune-elect Cato the Younger, gave a powerful speech urging immediate execution. Others repeated the same belief and serious doubts were expressed at the practicality of imprisonment. When called, the vote was overwhelmingly in favour of the death penalty. We do not know how Caius Octavius voted, but it is quite possible that he followed the consensus rather than siding with Julius Caesar. One of the oldest and most respected statesmen in the Senate hailed Cicero as the ‘father of his country’ (parentem patriae).16
Lentulus was stripped of his praetorship, but given the courtesy of being personally led away by Cicero to the place of execution, where the prisoners were strangled. Afterwards Cicero announced laconically: ‘They have lived’ – in Latin the single word vixerunt. There had been talk in Rome of massacres and the starting of fires in the City to spread chaos, and for the moment public opinion was relieved to see this danger removed. The Republic had survived an immediate threat, although Catiline and his army remained at large. It was harder to predict the long-term consequences of this willingness to suspend the laws. Although Rome dominated the world, its politics remained dangerously competitive, with the threat of violence and instability never far away. Yet if the risks were high, so were the rewards, and as the year ended Caius Octavius was determined to pursue his own career.17
2
‘A MAN OF WEALTH AND GOOD REPUTATION’
‘Caius Octavius, his father, though not of patrician birth, was descended from a very prominent equestrian family, and was himself a man of dignity, of upright and blameless life, and of great wealth.’ Velleius Paterculus, c.AD 30.1
We do not know too much about Atia’s husband, Caius Octavius. Our sources speak of his considerable wealth, although at no point do they give any indication of the scale of his fortune compared to other senators. He owned the house in the area of the Palatine known as the ‘Ox heads’, and had another house in Nola, a town some twenty miles east of Naples which had been turned into a colony for his veterans by Sulla. There was also a substantial family estate in and around the Volscian town of Velitrae, which lay to the south of the Alban Hills outside Rome. Formerly a persistent enemy, the Volsci had been conquered and absorbed by the Romans in the fourth century BC.2
Caius Octavius’ wealth was inherited, and that was the best sort of wealth as far as the Romans were concerned. The Octavii were part of the local gentry in Velitrae, where one of the oldest streets in the town was named after them. There was also a story of an Octavius who hastily finished a sacrifice to Mars so that he could lead the town’s warriors to repel the attack of a neighbouring community. That was evidently before the Roman conquest, and used to explain a local peculiarity in the manner of sacrifices to Mars. More recently, in 205 BC, a time of rather better records, Caius Octavius’ grandfather served as a military tribune in the Roman army during the war against Hannibal. He made no attempt to seek public office when the war was over, suggesting that like many he simply joined to fight at a time when the Republic faced an unprecedented threat.3
His son, Caius Octavius’ father, remained content with local politics throughout his long life and only held office in Velitrae itself. The family was already prosperous, but he built on this by shrewd investment and establishing himself as a banker, loaning money at interest – a far less honourable source of riches than the income from landed estates. In later years Mark Antony derided him as a squalid money-changer, and others claimed that Caius Octavius followed the same trade as his father, helping to distribute gifts and outright bribes to the voting tribes in Roman elections. Personal abuse was the common coin of Roman political exchanges, and such claims need to be taken with more than a pinch of salt. Even Suetonius, who happily reports plenty of scurrilous stories about Augustus, doubted this last claim.4
The son of a local aristocrat and a successful businessman, Caius Octavius was not simply a citizen, but a member of the equestrian order, the highest class registered in the Roman census. Equestrians had to possess property valued at more than 400,000 sesterces, although by the first century BC this was a comparatively modest sum and it was common for them to own far more. In earlier centuries the Roman army was recruited from those wealthy enough to buy their own arms and armour. The richest were able to afford horses and so formed the cavalry or equites. Although this military role had ceased – and the legions were now drawn from the poorest and equipped by the state – the name was preserved. Senatorial status was not based on a set property qualification, and came when a man was elected to a magistracy or simply enrolled in the Senate, but all had to be equestrians. There were some 600 senators, but thousands of equestrians, and, according to the most recent census figures from the start of the decade, some 900,000 Roman citizens.5
Probably the richest senator in these years was Pompey the Great, and the profits of his victories in the east were currently making him even wealthier. His closest rival in the Senate, who had shared the consulship with him in 70 BC, was Marcus Licinius Crassus, sometimes known as ‘the rich’ (dives). Both men had served Sulla and done well from the confiscated property of his executed enemies. Crassus was also a shrewd and energetic businessman. He maintained a substantial number of slave craftsmen and builders, as well as others trained to control fires. One of his tricks was to buy property cheaply when it lay in the path of one of Rome’s frequent blazes. Only then would he send in his slaves, knocking down buildings to create a firebreak. In time Crassus would rebuild and rent out the property, and eventually came to own substantial parts of the City. At one stage his estates elsewhere were valued at 200 million sesterces – enough to give 500 men the minimum equestrian census. He claimed that no one could call himself rich unless he could afford to pay for his own army. Pompey had actually done just this in the Civil War, recruiting and funding three legions from his own estates.6
Caius Octavius is unlikely to have been in the same league as Crassus or Pompey, but will have been aware of how the former used money. Crassus did not wish to be rich simply for the sake of it, but made his wealth work to his political advantage, loaning money to many senators either interest-free or at a very low rate. It was rumoured that a majority in the Senate owed Crassus money. When he was accused of involvement with Catiline, fear of sudden demands for repayment of these debts ensured that the matter was quickly dropped. He also had wide business interests and connections with the companies of publicani (the publicans of the King James Bible) who undertook state contracts, such as collecting taxes in the provinces. Much of this was done behind the scenes, since senators were not supposed to involve themselves in commerce, although many did. Crassus was probably the most successful. As well as money, he traded in favours. A capable and successful advocate, he worked hard representing others in legal cases to put them under obligation to him.7
With a banker for a father, Caius Octavius no doubt found that quite a few prominent men were either in debt to him, or grateful for earlier loans. In this respect it is quite possible that he did continue the family business, as a useful aid to his political ambitions. Unlike many senators, the bulk of his fortune was not tied up in estates and so was readily disposable for political advantage. It was probably to a large extent because of his wealth that he secured Atia as his second wife. We do not know whether his first marriage to a woman named Anchaia ended in her death, or divorce when he saw the chance of making a more useful connection. For the Roman elite, marriage was a political tool.8
Julius Caesar, himself originally betrothed to the daughter of a wealthy equestrian, married one of his sisters to Marcus Atius Balbus, another local aristocrat from a family very like the Octavii. He came from Aricia, slightly closer to Rome in the Alban Hills, and was of substantial means, being related on his mother’s side to Pompey. His father had clearly married into an established senatorial line, which helped foster his son’s ambition to hold office at Rome. Julius Caesar’s other sister married in turn two more of these minor gentry whose ambitions led them towards a career at Rome itself. Through this network of marriage alliances, Julius Caesar gained loyal allies eager to be associated with a patrician from such an ancient family, and quite possibly practical aid with funding his own career.9
In 62 BC Caius Octavius was probably in his early forties and felt ready to seek election as one of the eight praetors for the following year. Public careers were tied closely to age at Rome, and Sulla had sought to make this more clear by once again setting down in law a minimum age for each post. (For more detail on the public career or cursus honorum, see Appendix One.) Praetors had to be at least thirty-nine. It was a point of pride for an ambitious man to win office at the first opportunity, and especially to become consul in ‘his year’ (suo anno). Cicero had managed to achieve this last distinction, but good fortune, combined with a spectacular career in the courts, had helped him. We do not hear of Caius Octavius appearing as advocate and his talents may not have lain in this direction.10
He did serve twice as military tribune, some time in the seventies BC, and so at least at the beginning he may have done his best to acquire a military reputation, which generally went down well with the voters. There were twenty-four elected military tribunes every year, a legacy of the old days when the army consisted of only four legions, each led by six tribunes. By the first century there were usually dozens of legions at any one time, and the bulk of their tribunes were directly chosen and commissioned by provincial governors. We do not know where Caius Octavius served, but two terms – each at least a year in length – suggest some enthusiasm for the post. In the earlier Republic any candidate seeking office had to have served for ten years or campaigns. The rule was considerably relaxed by the first century, although even the unmilitary Cicero spent some time with the legions. Young men served as contubernales (literally ‘tent-companions’) to governors, acting effectively as junior staff officers to gain experience.11
Caius Octavius was then elected to the most junior of the Roman magistracies, the quaestorship, taking the first formal step in a political career. Since Sulla’s reforms, becoming quaestor automatically led to a man’s enrolment as a senator. There were twenty quaestors each year, and one of the others for 73 BC was Caius Toranius, with whom Caius Octavius was later associated, so it was also probably in this year that he held the office. The duties of these magistrates were primarily financial. Some served in Rome, while others were sent to assist provincial governors by overseeing the finances of their provinces. We do not know the duties assigned to Caius Octavius. In contrast Toranius found himself leading troops against the slave rebellion of Spartacus and was soundly beaten.12
In 64 BC – again the date is partly guesswork, but seems likely – Caius Octavius and Toranius were the two plebeian aediles. There were four aediles each year, two plebeian and two curule – the latter post open to patricians. Their tasks ranged from organising public festivals – specifically the ludi Ceriales celebrating the goddess of the harvest and the Plebeian Games – to regulating traffic and public works within Rome itself. It was a good opportunity to be highly visible to the electorate, especially for a man able to supplement the official funds with his own money. The games included processions, feasting and public entertainments such as beast fights. At this stage in Rome’s history gladiatorial contests remained the preserve of funeral games. With so few posts available each year, it was not a compulsory magistracy. For Toranius it helped to rehabilitate him after his defeat. For Caius Octavius it was a way of winning more political friends and making himself known to voters.13
He was not a high-flyer like Atia’s uncle. Julius Caesar’s family had drifted a long way from the heart of politics since the early Republic, but their fortunes began to recover when he was a child. A different branch of the wider family started this rise, at least getting the name known once again. Caesar’s father, aided by his sister’s marriage to the popular hero Caius Marius, easily reached the praetorship and only his sudden death – he collapsed and died putting on his shoes one morning – prevented him from going further.
