Augustus, page 43
Our sources for the years of Tiberius’ retirement are poor and make it difficult to reconstruct events in any detail – Dio’s narrative exists only in a summary which jumps straight from 5 BC to 2 BC. There may well have been more military activity on other frontiers, and perhaps some of the otherwise unknown victories listed in the Res Gestae belong to these years. As far as we can tell, Augustus travelled little, and does not appear to have made any visits to the provinces for some time. Without a senior colleague, it was better for the princeps to stay in Rome and let delegations come to him. The constant flow of petitions continued, and now only he could deal with most of them. Sometimes the issues were large. In 12 BC the communities of Asia had suffered severely from a spate of earthquakes and resulting fires and pleaded for relief from their taxes. Augustus rescinded the taxation for two years and paid the equivalent sum into the treasury with his own money to give the Asians time to recover.27
Other matters were smaller-scale and more personal. In 6 BC the Greek island community of Knidos sent an embassy to see the princeps. Two men are named – Dionysius son of Dionysius, and his colleague Dionysius son of Dionysius son of Dionysius – and they came to accuse a certain Euboulos, son of Anaxandridas, and his wife Typhera of the murder of one Euboulos, son of Chrysippos. If those in Knidos were less than imaginative when it came to names, the crime itself was unusual. The victim’s brother and his followers had attacked the accused couple’s house for three nights in succession, as described in Augustus’ letter to the community: ‘The householders Euboulos and Typhera, since they could not achieve safety in their own house, either by negotiating . . . or by barricading themselves against the attacks, ordered one of their household slaves not to kill, as perhaps someone might have been provoked to do by quite justifiable anger, but to force them back by pouring their excrement over them. But the household slave . . . let go of the chamber pot together with what was being poured down, and Euboulos fell under it . . .’
The local community, presumably influenced by the dead man’s brother, had blamed the householders, and these had appealed to Augustus via the proconsul, Asinius Gallus. The latter had ordered their slaves to be interrogated under torture in the normal Roman way, and the one who had dropped the chamber pot was adamant that he had not intended to do so, although a measure of doubt was expressed about this. Augustus went on: ‘I have sent to you the actual interrogations too. I would have been surprised at how much the defendants feared the examination of the slaves at your hands, had you not seemed to have been excessively harsh against them, and tough on crime in all the wrong respects, being angry not with those who deserved to suffer everything whatever, since they launched an attack against someone else’s house at night with violence and force three times . . .’
In this case, the real victims both of an assault and a subsequent miscarriage of justice at the local level eventually received a fair verdict from the princeps, but it may well have taken a long time and involved considerable hardship and expense to achieve this. Euboulos the householder had died by the time Augustus issued his decision and instructed Knidos to alter ‘the records in their public archive’ to agree with his opinion.28
Individuals, communities and even entire provinces appealed to Caesar Augustus’ judgement. So did monarchs. Herod the Great had no fewer than ten wives and a large number of children. Two of the most favoured were sent to Rome to be raised and educated in Augustus’ household, but since these were sons of the executed Mariamme, trust was always in short supply. Years later Herod recalled them, and in 13 BC took them to Italy where father and sons appeared before the princeps and accused each other of treachery. Matters were temporarily resolved, but in 7 BC the king again accused them of plotting against him. This time he did not go to Rome in person, but sent ambassadors, and Augustus ordered that a special court including his legate in Syria and other Romans meet in Berytus to try the case. The sons were found guilty and swiftly executed, even though the Romans had advocated no more than imprisonment.29
Ageing and in poor health, Herod’s final years witnessed a spate of executions of family members, as the king saw threats and treachery in every direction. Augustus commented drily that he would ‘rather be Herod’s pig than his son’. Yet the king of Judaea never for a moment wavered in his loyalty to Rome. In 4 BC, when it was clear that Herod’s days were numbered, a group assembled and tore down the golden eagle he had erected over the main gate of the Temple – probably hated more as a graven image than a symbol of Rome. They acted too soon, and were swiftly arrested and brought before the king. He ordered the men who had done the deed to be burnt alive, and those who had inspired them were executed. In spite of his unpopularity, Herod’s control of his kingdom was as strong as ever. He died soon afterwards, and Augustus formed a commission which included Caius Caesar to decide on the arrangements for the future, eventually dividing the kingdom into three and giving rule to three of his surviving sons. At some point in the last year or so of Herod’s reign, Jesus was born – an event of obviously profound importance for future history, but not part of Augustus’ story. (For discussion of the evidence see Appendix Two.) Within less than a year of the king’s death, the legate of Syria twice marched his legions into Judaea to suppress violent disorders directed against his successors and their Roman backers.30
Actium was a long time ago, and since 30 BC the eastern provinces had been almost entirely free of warfare apart from a few small-scale campaigns on the fringes. Roman rule was accepted, and the peace and stability it was now providing were welcomed and valued. As long ago as 26–25 BC the assembly formed by the communities in Asia to take part in the cult of Rome and Augustus had offered a prize for anyone who could come up with an appropriate way of honouring Augustus, the man who had presided over this era of calm. This was finally awarded in 9 BC, and since the recipient was the Roman proconsul it strongly suggests that the princeps’ approval had already been sought and given. From now on, all of the communities changed their calendars so that their year would begin on what had been 23 September, Augustus’ birthday. This became the first day of the month called Caesar. In 4 BC he introduced a new procedure making it quicker for provincial communities to charge a governor with extortion or any other abuses of power which stopped short of unlawful killing. Augustus was visible throughout the provinces in image and name, and made some efforts to ensure good administration, although the new system may well have favoured corrupt administrators as they were to be tried by a jury solely consisting of other senators whose instincts were likely to be sympathetic.31
In 2 BC the sixty-year-old Caesar Augustus was consul for the thirteenth time, adding even greater honour to the ceremony when Lucius Caesar became a man. The fifteen-year-old was made an augur and joined his brother as joint principes iuventutis. He was also permitted to attend the Senate and marked down for a consulship in AD 4. On 5 February 2 BC the Senate and People voted to name Augustus pater patriae – the ‘father of his country’. It was an honour mentioned more than once in the past, but declined up until this point. Cicero in 63 BC and Julius Caesar as dictator had each been named parens patriae – ‘parent of his country’ – although the title is uncertain and some believe that either or both were named ‘father’ rather than ‘parent’. In Cicero’s case the award was informal, whereas Julius Caesar was granted it by a formal vote of the Senate. The father, especially the paterfamilias who headed a household, was greatly revered in Roman culture, but it is doubtful that there was much difference in the title, save perhaps that the slightly different wording distinguished Augustus and emphasised his universal fatherhood. At first Augustus refused when offered the title by a deputation representing the wider population. It was conferred at a performance in the theatre, when to universal acclamation Valerius Messalla, acting as spokesman for the other senators, again approached him, declaring: ‘Every blessing and divine favour be upon you and your family, Caesar Augustus! For in this way we also beseech perpetual good fortune on the res publica and lasting joy for our city. The Senate with the support of the entire Roman people acclaim you Father of your Country.’
Augustus was moved to tears as he replied: ‘Having attained my deepest wish, Fathers of the Senate, for what else have I to pray to the immortal gods, except that I may keep this universal consent of you all until the end of my days.’32
The pattern of popular pressure overcoming modest reluctance on the part of the princeps was well established, and both sides no doubt understood the part they were playing. This does not alter the fact that Augustus only took the title at this stage. Had he wanted it, he could surely have received it earlier. This way flattered both sides, but the main restraint on his honours came from Augustus himself, and not from any putative senatorial opposition. Messalla was the consul of 31 BC, former ally of Brutus and Cassius, and then Antony, who had switched sides before Actium and gone on to enjoy a provincial command and a triumph. He was one of that ever-diminishing generation who had seen the horrors of civil war at first hand. Whatever else he had done, Augustus had already given the state stability and internal peace for almost three decades, and on this basis alone the acclamation of him was surely genuine. His pride was also genuine, and the award concludes the main text of his Res Gestae: ‘In my thirteenth consulship . . . [the Senate], equestrian order and the entire Roman People declared me pater patriae and decreed that this should be inscribed on the porch of my house and in the Senate house’.33
In a career spanning more than forty years, Augustus had gone from the angry avenger of a murdered father to the unifying elder statesman and ‘father’ of the Roman world. His adopted sons shared his popularity and were being prepared for high office. His daughter – and only actual child – proved less willing to play the part given to her by her father.
Tiberius’ retirement to Rhodes left Julia on her own again. Most likely the couple had not lived together for some time before this and so the change may not have been too dramatic when he left. Nor was it unusual in her experience, for Agrippa had spent most of their marriage away in the provinces, but Julia did not care for solitude. Lively, fond of the arts and especially poetry, she enjoyed the company of other bright, well-educated, attractive and aristocratic young people. Deeply aware of her own eminence, her circle consisted almost exclusively of young aristocrats with names reaching back far into Rome’s history. All were too young to have taken part in the civil wars, surely the most profound experience to shape their parents’ generation, and had grown up in times of peace and prosperity.34
The poet Ovid – Publius Ovidius Naso – was of a similar age and experience, and his verses have beauty and passion, as well as a sense of mischief – at times almost of flippancy. Their spirit lacks the dark undertones and seriousness of the earlier poets who had lived through the years of proscriptions, land confiscation and loss, and instead has an irrepressible sense of joy. Around 2 BC he was working on the three books of his Art of Love (Ars Amatoria), presented as a mock technical manual of how to find and win over a lover. It is far less about sex than seduction, and finds time to tour some of the monuments of Augustan Rome, and recount some famous myths such as the story of Icarus, while he gives his advice to both men and women. Several times he assures his readers that he is not celebrating adultery – his women were not wives but mistresses, many of them former slaves, and so no threat to proper Roman marriage and the production of children so keenly promoted by the Augustan regime. The tone is never serious, down to the last line of the second and third books, as he makes each group he has advised declare ‘Naso was our teacher’.35
Sallust and Cicero had sometimes complained of the loose morals and casual affairs of the younger generation of Rome’s elite, mixing truth with wild exaggeration. By the first century BC, many wealthy and well-born Roman women were no longer content to sit quietly at home waiting for husbands to return from the empire. Julius Caesar and Augustus had both pursued plenty of affairs with married women, and they were not alone. As always, rumour no doubt outstripped fact by a long way, but some aristocratic wives readily took lovers, and many more enjoyed the company of young aristocratic men and revelled in wine, feasting, dance and music.
Julia was one of these, and clearly enjoyed luxury and male companions. During her marriage to Agrippa, Augustus is said to have wondered whether she was unfaithful, only to be reassured when all her children resembled their father. Julia was said to have quipped that she never ‘took a passenger on board, unless the ship’s hold already has a full cargo’. On at least one occasion Augustus wrote to a senator instructing him not to call on his daughter, but he seems to have convinced himself that her conduct was more foolish than dangerous. The suggestion that she ought to copy her stepmother, whose friends were mature and sober in contrast to the faster set forming Julia’s circle, unsurprisingly met with a frosty reception. Livia was some twenty years her senior, and his daughter assured the princeps that her friends would ‘grow old with her’ as well. By 2 BC Julia was thirty-seven and had given birth to six children. Many people struggle to cope with ageing, especially when they take pride in their good looks. Augustus surprised Julia when her slaves were plucking out her first few grey hairs, and later asked her whether she would prefer to be ‘bald or grey’.36
Matters came to head late in 2 BC, when the princeps was confronted with clear evidence that Julia was conducting one or more adulterous affairs. We do not know how Augustus came to learn of this, nor is it possible to discover what really happened. None of our sources doubt that she took a number of lovers. Some are named, and include a Sempronius Gracchus, who was known as a poet, an Appius Claudius, a Scipio, Titus Quinctius Crispinus, who had been consul in 9 BC, and, most interesting of all, Iullus Antonius, the son of Mark Antony and Fulvia. Other more obscure lovers are claimed, but no names are given. The aristocratic pedigrees of the named lovers are unsurprising, and all were most likely of a broadly similar age to Julia.
Claims are made of outrageous behaviour on top of the affairs. There is talk of drunken parties held in public, and even on the Rostra, and of nightly gatherings where the statue of Marsyas – a satyr famed from his musical skill and associated with feasting and Bacchus, the god of wine – in the Forum was crowned with a garland. Wilder stories claim that Julia openly prostituted herself to passers-by in her craving for new thrills. Our instinct is to dismiss such tales as gossip and we are most probably right to do this, although the fact that people have done some remarkably stupid things throughout history should make us cautious about expressing absolute certainty. Yet this may be an indication that Julia and her circle were becoming increasingly indiscreet, and perhaps they did carry one or more of their parties out into the streets and public places. If so, it would be an ironic echo of Antony and Cleopatra’s nighttime forays in Alexandria. Perhaps everyone assumed that Augustus knew all about it and was willing to turn a blind eye and indulge his daughter.37
Given the distinguished names and family connections of the lovers, many scholars have assumed that politics lay behind everything, and that this was really a conspiracy to seize power. Pliny claims that there was a plot to murder Augustus, and Dio suggests Iullus was behind it, but no one else even hints at this, and it seems unlikely that Julia would have conspired to kill her father. A more plausible suggestion is that she hoped to be allowed to divorce Tiberius and marry Iullus, who would thus become the princeps’ new son-in-law; as such, he could no doubt expect to be rewarded with ever-greater power and responsibility, joining him, and in time the young Caius and Lucius, as leaders of the state. If Augustus were to die in the next few years, Iullus and Julia would be in a position to guide her sons and share power with them. The election of Caius in 6 BC suggests concerted lobbying to promote the rapid rise of Julia’s sons and it makes sense that she and others hoped to gain from this. Perhaps this was the plan, and perhaps there was also wild talk of liberty and restoring the dominance of the old aristocratic families – the statue of Marsyas and the fig tree that shaded it had a long association as symbols of popular liberty.38
Wild talk is likely, and perhaps Julia did hope to marry Iullus. Yet in spite of all the ingenious theories of historians, an organised conspiracy is highly unlikely. Augustus certainly did not deal with it in this way, and public condemnation of serial adultery by his daughter is a most unlikely smokescreen to cover a failed coup, especially from the man who had introduced strong – and widely resented – laws on marriage and adultery. The princeps had given his family a very public role, and held them up as exempla of proper Roman behaviour. Julia’s adultery was a greater betrayal than Tiberius’ retirement and Augustus clearly felt it deeply. This did not need to be a public matter, but he insisted on bringing it before the Senate, having a quaestor read out a letter since he did not feel capable of addressing them himself.
Iullus Antonius killed himself – perhaps in anticipation of a death sentence, since later sources say vaguely that he was killed – and all of the other lovers were sent into exile. One was a serving tribune, who was permitted to complete his term of office and then sent abroad. Iullus Antonius’ young son was also exiled, and sent to live out his life in Massilia. All in all, this relative leniency is one of the strongest arguments against a political conspiracy. In the past Augustus had shown little hesitation in killing anyone who plotted against him. Yet most Romans clearly found the punishment unduly harsh for adultery – Tacitus later claimed the princeps treated it almost as if it was treason against the state, and this may get closest to the truth. Augustus was outraged, seeing his daughter’s misbehaviour as a deep personal shame, and her lovers as deliberately insulting him and his household. This was a blow to his auctoritas, or in many ways worse, since wider opinion of him was not damaged anywhere near as much as his own self-image and pride. Imperator Caesar Augustus was more shamed and enraged than afraid.39
