Augustus, page 6
Guardians were appointed in the will to oversee the boy’s property until he came of age. One of them was Caius Toranius, the man who had been aedile – and perhaps also quaestor – with the child’s father. Property needed to be managed and money invested to protect and ideally expand the inheritance. Toranius was later accused of spending much of Caius Octavius’ fortune for his own ends. There is always the possibility that it was misjudgement more than deliberate abuse of his position, but as an adult Octavius would not see it that way and would in due course exact grim retribution.2
Atia was a valuable asset to her father. Still young – she was probably in her twenties – and capable of bearing more children, it would have been abnormal for her not to remarry. Roman law imposed a ten-month period before it was acceptable for a widow or divorced woman to take another husband, since this ought to make clear the paternity of any child. Marcus Atius Balbus had done well through his marriage to Julius Caesar’s sister, and the alliance with Caius Octavius. This did not mean that he was not free to seek a fresh alliance with another aristocratic line and win himself new connections. Atia married again, this time to Lucius Marcius Philippus, who went on to win the consulship for 56 BC. Philippus was no great friend of Julius Caesar, but his family was very well established and politically successful, making this a good match on both sides. For him the new marriage may also have brought a welcome injection of funds. Philippus already had an adult son starting out on a political career as well as a daughter, and if he hoped for more children from his new marriage then he was to be disappointed.3
Octavius did not accompany his mother to her new home. Instead he – and, presumably for the moment, his sister – went to live with Atia’s parents, who took over the task of supervising their care and early education. In time a paedogogus would be added to the nurse; in Octavius’ case his main attendant was called Sphaerus. A paedogogus was usually a slave of Greek extraction, and part of his task was to begin teaching the child this language as well as Latin. Aristocratic Romans in the first century BC were fluently bilingual. Apart from reading, writing and basic arithmetic, there was also a heavy emphasis on the customs and history of the Roman Republic. As Cicero put it, ‘For what is the life of a man, if it is not interwoven with the life of former generations by a sense of history?’ Within the wider history of the state, the greatest emphasis was always on the part played in it by the family. Atia would no doubt have made sure that Octavius learned of the great deeds and immense antiquity of the Julii in general and the Caesares in particular. No doubt there was also a gentler pride in the less spectacular history of Caius Octavius’ family. In later years Octavius simply wrote that they were ‘an old and prosperous equestrian family’ and went into no more detail.4
‘THE THREE-HEADED MONSTER’5
Pompey the Great returned to Italy with his army at the end of 62 BC. Granted unprecedentedly large commands and resources by the Popular Assembly, his victories dwarfed those of past Roman generals. Pompey had served the Republic well, his experience and natural talent for organisation and planning first sweeping the Mediterranean clear of pirates, before finally crushing Mithridates of Pontus and carrying out the wholesale reorganisation of the Near East. Plenty of senators wondered whether a man grown accustomed to such power would be content to become just another senator once again. Many feared that he would use his legions to dominate the Republic by force as Sulla had done.6
Pompey was no Sulla, and on top of that the situation was utterly different, for Sulla had faced Roman enemies already in arms against him when he came back from his war against Mithridates. The unfinished civil war had simply continued when he returned from the east. As a grand gesture to allay people’s fears, in 62 BC Pompey began demobilising his army as soon as he arrived in Italy. The political mood in Rome changed, as relief faded and was supplanted by a sense that the great conqueror was now vulnerable. Pompey no longer held formal power or controlled an army, although he would remain outside the formal boundary of the City and retain his imperium until he celebrated his triumph. Instead he had to rely on his wealth, his skill and that intangible thing the Romans called auctoritas – for which our English word authority is a poor translation. Auctoritas combined status and the respect due to an individual for his and his family’s achievements and connections. In essence it was simply how important everyone else considered a man to be.7
No one doubted Pompey’s importance, and no individual surpassed him in wealth or political connections, but he had no monopoly of these things and plenty of others possessed them to a lesser degree. Pompey had spent all of his youth and most of his adult years on campaign. He had little experience of the day-to-day manoeuvring of public life, of trading and exploiting political favours. On top of this he craved the adulation of the crowd and the willing approval of his senatorial colleagues, struggling to cope when this was not forthcoming. Practically he had three objectives. The first and simplest was the right to celebrate a triumph and parade his achievements through the heart of the City. The second was formal ratification of his reorganisation of the eastern provinces and kingdoms, confirming all his decisions. The last was a bill to grant plots of land to his discharged soldiers, setting them up on farms so that they could in future support themselves and their families.
These were all good things for the state. Pompey’s eastern settlement was sensible, and when it was finally approved many of its provisions would remain in force for centuries. The legionaries had fought well and successfully, yet the Republic paid them a pauper’s wage and most had no source of livelihood now that the army no longer required them. It was true that Pompey would gain the gratitude of these men and their future votes, swelling the great array of clients already obligated to support him. Roman aristocrats of this generation felt that the vast prestige of someone else diminished their own status. There were also plenty with grudges against Pompey, remembering relatives executed by the young butcher.8
Pompey got his triumph after a struggle. It was his third, and was celebrated with great splendour and an emphasis on the unmatched scale of his achievements. The crowds cheered the marching soldiers, the lines of captives and the floats bearing spoils of war, lists of conquests and paintings showing scenes from the campaigns. Pompey himself rode in a chariot, dressed in the purple robes of a triumphing general, wearing a laurel wreath and with his face painted terracotta-red so that he resembled the old statues of Jupiter Optimus Maximus, the chief of Rome’s gods. For that day the general assumed the role of the god. The months and years that followed demonstrated all too clearly the limits of influence and wealth when faced with concerted opposition. As a private citizen Pompey had no power, and could not summon the Senate or present a bill to the People. In 61 and 60 BC his backing helped former subordinates to reach the consulship. Neither proved politically astute and they were readily blocked or marginalised by their respective colleagues.
Cato was prominent in the campaign to thwart Pompey, but many other members of distinguished families briefly set aside their habitual competition in the hope of cutting the great hero down to size. Such men liked to refer to themselves as ‘the good men’ (boni) or ‘the best men’ (optimates), and when they spoke of liberty and the Republic they understood both as the interests of their own class. For them it was better that a problem not be dealt with than to permit a rival to gain the credit for solving it. It was a recipe for inertia at the heart of public life. No bill to grant land to the veterans – or indeed to other poor citizens – became law, while the eastern settlement still waited for approval. Rulers and communities in the provinces and allied kingdoms remained in limbo, unsure whether the powers allocated to them would endure.
Crassus took part in many of the attacks on Pompey, but was soon equally frustrated. Several prominent companies of publicani had bid far above the odds to secure the right to collect taxes in Asia and other eastern provinces, and now found it impossible to cover their outlay. They pressed for a rebate of their original payment to the state. Crassus probably had investments in these companies and certainly close business connections with them. For all his network of indebted political friends, he was unable to prevent the matter from being blocked when it was raised in the Senate.9
It is a mistake to view these years purely from the perspective of Pompey, Crassus and their opponents. The annual cycle of elections continued to be hotly contested, often through bribery and intimidation, while politically motivated battles were fought out in the courts. Julius Caesar spent 61–60 BC as governor of Further Spain, although he was nearly stopped from going to his province when some of his creditors demanded immediate repayment of his staggering debts. Crassus intervened, paying some and standing surety for the rest. A rebellion provided the new governor with the opportunity to fight a war, winning glory and gaining lots of plunder. By the time he returned to Rome, Julius Caesar had eased his financial situation and won the chance to triumph.
He was determined to round off this success by gaining the consulship for 59 BC, suo anno. To do this, he asked for exemption from the law requiring a candidate to be physically present when he declared himself as standing. Cato blocked this by a filibuster, talking incessantly when his opinion was asked in the senatorial debate, and so preventing a vote from being called. The Senate was not permitted to continue a debate after sunset, and so anything unresolved by then had to be abandoned. It was a technique he would use repeatedly, and one of the reasons why he had already come to be such a formidable figure in the Senate in spite of his comparatively young age. This time his success was fleeting. Julius Caesar came into the City and appeared as a candidate, even though this meant dismissing his troops and giving up his triumph.10
Some of Cato’s hostility was based on sheer personal dislike, not helped by a long-term affair between Julius Caesar and Cato’s half-sister, Servilia. His own son-in-law, Marcus Calpurnius Bibulus – a man older than he was – was also standing for the consulship and he may have hoped to secure both Bibulus’ election and a less flamboyant colleague. Perhaps he also hoped that a failure to win the consulship would ruin Julius Caesar just as it had ruined Catiline, but if so then he badly misjudged. All the candidates spent lavishly to win support. Julius Caesar was comfortably elected first, and in the end Bibulus narrowly succeeded in becoming his colleague.11
This was all public. Behind the scenes Julius Caesar had made an arrangement with Crassus and Pompey, convincing them that the only way to achieve what they wanted was to set aside their enmity and work together through him. He also attempted to win Cicero into a similarly close association, but failed to convince him. Modern scholars term this alliance between the two wealthiest men in Rome and the ambitious newcomer the ‘first triumvirate’. At the time it was a secret agreement, and only gradually during the course of 59 BC did it become public.12
In January, Julius Caesar began his year of office by bringing a land bill before the Senate. It was moderate in tone, and his attitude conciliatory, declaring that he was willing to modify any of the clauses if there was reasonable criticism. He had already decreed that all senatorial debates would be published so that opinions expressed there would now become public knowledge. Only Cato was willing to go on record as dissenting, and promptly began one of his familiar unending speeches. His anger flaring, Julius Caesar had him led off by his lictors, but Cato was very good at playing the part of a man victimised by a tyrant. At least one senator went with him, declaring that ‘he would rather be with Cato in prison, than with Caesar here’. The meeting ended without a vote.13
This pattern was repeated as Cato, Bibulus and their supporters took every opportunity to obstruct Julius Caesar. They were less concerned with stopping him than with making him adopt more and more radical methods, casting doubt for the future on the legality of all that he did. The land bill was passed by the Popular Assembly, and so Pompey’s veterans got their farms. A few months later this was supplemented by a second land bill, distributing more publicly owned land to former soldiers and to 20,000 married men with at least three children drawn from the urban poor. Twenty commissioners were appointed to oversee the distribution and one of these was Atia’s father. Pompey’s eastern settlement was finally ratified in its entirety. Around the same time, the publicani received a rebate for their overbidding, although this was accompanied by a warning for them to be more restrained in future.14
Pompey’s and Crassus’ backing had gradually become open as Julius Caesar resorted more and more to public meetings and the Popular Assembly to get his legislation through. Both sides employed gangs of followers and intimidation, but those of the triumvirate were more numerous and better organised. In a public meeting about the land bill, Bibulus’ lictors had their fasces smashed and he had a basket of dung emptied over him. After that experience he retired to his house for the rest of the year, and declared that he was watching the skies for auspices and kept seeing lightning in the sky. If a presiding magistrate saw such a sign from Jupiter, then public business was suspended, but he was supposed to be present at the meeting or Assembly and not skulking in his house. Yet it served to muddy the waters over all of the legislation of this year.15
After his return from the east, Pompey had approached Cato in the hope of marrying one of his nieces and had been snubbed. Now he married Julius Caesar’s daughter Julia, openly confirming their alliance. Julia’s father was six years younger than Pompey, but in spite of the age difference the marriage was a great success, the older man basking in the adulation of his young and charming bride. Everyone now knew that Crassus and Pompey were allied to the ambitious consul, and men began talking of a ‘three-headed monster’ dominating the state. Others joked that they were living in the consulship of ‘Julius and Caesar’, since Bibulus was invisible and made no attempt to initiate any legislation or business of his own. However, apart from watching the skies, he was busily writing scurrilous attacks on his colleague, which he had posted up in the Forum for all to see. Others added to this flow of invective. Julius Caesar was dubbed ‘a husband to women and a wife to men’ as the old story that he had been seduced by the ageing king of Bithynia was dragged up.16
United, Pompey, Crassus and Julius Caesar were able to force through any piece of legislation, although often at the price of extreme methods. In spite of what their critics claimed, they were incapable of controlling every aspect of public business. They managed to secure the election of two friendly consuls for 58 BC – one of them Lucius Calpurnius Piso, Julius Caesar’s new father-in-law. Yet they could not prevent far more hostile individuals winning other magistracies, or hope to control the elections in the long run. At the end of the year Julius Caesar departed for a five-year provincial command, giving him the chance to win glory and enough money to pay his debts and make his fortune. A bill brought before the Assembly by a tribune granted him the provinces of Cisalpine Gaul and Illyria. When the governor of Transalpine Gaul died, Pompey proposed in the Senate that this be given to him as well, and so Julius Caesar received a third province, this time by senatorial decree.17
‘THEY WANTED THIS’
Alongside their formal education, senators’ sons were supposed to learn by watching. From the age of seven they began to attend their father – or another male relative – as he went about his business, watching him receive and greet the clients who came to his house each day, and following him through the Forum to meetings of the Senate. Boys were not allowed inside the chamber, but the doors were left open and they and their attendants clustered outside to listen. They also exercised in public on the Campus Martius, in time learning to ride, throw a javelin and fight with shield and sword. Thus from an early age they were in the company of their generation, the men with whom they would compete for office and serve as colleagues.
We do not know when Atia’s father, Marcus Atius Balbus, died, and his last known post was as land commissioner in 59 BC. It is possible that the young Octavius began to learn about public life by following his grandfather during the last years of Atius Balbus’ life, but we have no direct evidence for this. His great-uncle was merely a distant presence, for Julius Caesar would be away from Rome for a decade. Around the same time that they began to observe public life, boys also started to receive formal tutoring from a grammaticus – a teacher of literature as well as language. There were something like twenty schools in Rome open to those whose parents could pay for such an education. The very wealthy usually had a grammaticus in their household, although they might allow the children of friends, relatives or clients to join their own offspring in the classes. At some stage during his education, Octavius began to forge friendships that would endure throughout his life.18
Young Romans read and memorised classic texts in Latin and Greek, so that they could comment on them as well as quote. They also learned by rote such things as the Twelve Tables, the ancient basis of Roman law. For all that, it was the practical observation of the workings of the Republic and the private business of a senator – or for girls the tasks of their mother in running a household – that most prepared them for adult life. Watching the public life of the Republic in the fifties BC was scarcely edifying. Without Julius Caesar as consul in Rome, Pompey and Crassus returned to wielding immense influence, but had even less control over day-to-day events than when he was present as senior magistrate. Many other senators had lesser influence than these great men, but some had power to make things happen. Political rivalries continued to rage that had nothing to do with Pompey, Crassus or Julius Caesar.
