In the disordered conditions which followed the death of Cæsar, the old
Roman constitution lost what little force it had seemed to retain under
the preceding dictators. The offices of the State remained the same in
name, and were still supposed to be filled by men who were freely chosen
by the people; but all were under the hand of a power which the Senate
dared not resist, and in which the people, weary of the bloody
contentions of the oligarchy, were willing to acquiesce so long as bread
and games were forthcoming. This power was the army. Whosoever
controlled the army found the interpretation of his own political rights
not difficult. The forces of the Empire were in the hands of three men:
Lepidus, who commanded the legions which at the opportune moment were
near Rome; Antony, who was the idol of the people; and the young
Octavius, who stood on the vantage of his relationship to the great
Cæsar, These men divided the world among themselves; but, in the end,
Octavius, by the steadiness of his mind, the fixity of his purpose, and
the scope of his executive ability, won for himself the Empire. During
the years of civil war and political turmoil which accompanied these
changes, much in the Roman social construction which had hitherto been
beneath found its way to the surface. It was a struggle in which any
strength, skill, or art that enabled its possessor to best his fellows
meant political advantage. Though deficient in strength, women, having a
certain skill peculiar to their sex and being especially adapted to the
practice of those arts by means of which political situations are
managed from behind the scenes, became much more influential in State
affairs than formerly. Their prominence grew as the government narrowed
down from the free Senate to the person of the emperor. Women have
always been powerful in a monarchical or an imperial court, but have
never enjoyed any notable political rights in a republic.
The period which we are now studying is rich in the names of women who,
standing around Cæsar's throne, often found means to further or thwart
the designs of its occupant. Among them we may select Livia, not for the
dignity of her character or the ability of her mind,--though she was not
lacking in either of these qualities,--but because of her position as
the Augusta and her long life, she, better than any other, serves to
represent the women who were influential in Roman public affairs. Though
if Fulvia had lived and Antony had been discreet, Rome might have been
governed by a woman, and Fulvia instead of Livia would have been the
type we should have chosen. While her husband was following Cleopatra to
Egypt, a prisoner to her fascinations, Fulvia had control of the consuls
and was making war against Octavius. If this ambitious, strong-minded
woman, who held reviews of the troops with a sword at her side, had been
possessed of sufficient funds, Octavius might never have won the purple;
but the only means by which the army could be held were wasted by her
husband in monstrous extravagances. Defeated in her schemes through the
non-coöperation of her husband, Fulvia became ill through vexation and
shame, and died about B.C. 39.
Livia possessed an entirely different character from that which
dominated Fulvia; yet, being of the Claudian race,--that family which,
as Niebuhr says, "in all ages distinguished itself alike by a spirit of
haughty defiance, by disdain for the laws, and iron hardness of
heart,"--it would have been strange if Livia had not made her influence
felt in the house of Cæsar and to the sorrow of those who stood in her
way. When Livia first met Octavius, she was eighteen years old and the
wife of Tiberius Claudius Nero, a man probably much older than herself.
The varying aspects of the Civil War made it difficult for a man who
sought before all things his own security to know which cause to
support. Ill luck seemed to prompt Claudius Nero in his choice; first he
threw in his lot with Brutus and Cassius, though he was indebted to
Cæsar for many favors; then, after the defeat of these, he joined Antony
against Augustus. The consequence was that he spent much time in the
endeavor to rectify his mistakes of policy by fleeing from one commander
to another. In all these journeyings and adventures his wife accompanied
him, carrying with her their young child Tiberius, who was destined to
become Emperor of Rome. At times she was exposed to great danger; for
instance, in Lacedæmon, during an escape by night from their enemies,
the forest through which they were passing was on fire, and her hair and
clothing were scorched by the flames. Claudius Nero succeeded in gaining
a pardon from Octavius, and he and his wife returned to Rome. Whether
this grace resulted from the representations he made in his own defence,
or from the interest excited by Livia in the mind of Octavius, history
does not inform us; but certain conclusions are unavoidable, inasmuch as
Octavius compelled Claudius Nero to divorce his wife so that he himself
might marry her.
In order that this marriage might take place, a double divorce was
necessary; for Octavius was already united to Scribonia, by whom he had
a daughter, Julia, the only child that was ever born to him. He had
married Scribonia for purposes of political expediency. At the time of
his marriage he was only twenty-three years old, while his bride was his
senior by many years and had already lost two husbands by death. The
object of this marriage was to win for Octavius the support of Libo, the
brother of Scribonia, and through him his son-in-law Sextus Pompeius,
who was a man of great influence. This purpose being served, the young
ruler found himself at the same time secure in his position and tired of
the marital alliance which he had formed for the sake of that security.
He alleged perversity of character and incompatibility of temperament---
the only charges he could prefer--in Scribonia, and sent her a letter of
separation only a few days after his child had been born.
"By this act," says Adolf Stahr, as quoted by S. Baring Gould, "Octavius
himself strewed the seeds of discord which were to disturb fatally the
concord of the imperial family, not only during his own life, but far
beyond it, Scribonia would have been no woman not to have felt deadly
hatred toward that woman in whom she saw the robber of her honor, the
wrecker of her happiness, the overthrower of her ambition, and by means
of whom a new family forced its way into that place which should have
been hers and usurped her claims and her hopes. As the mother of Julia,
the only daughter of the sovereign, as the ancestress of Julia's
children and grandchildren, she remained, in spite of the separation,
the head of the Julian race, the dynasty called to sovereignty. No
wonder, then, that henceforth she stood in hostile opposition to the
Claudian Livia and her two children. This deadly animosity between the
two family branches of the imperial house was reflected more than two
generations later in the memoirs of the great-grandchild of Scribonia,
the second Agrippina, wife of the Emperor Claudius, and mother of Nero,
the source whence, poisoned as it was with fiercest hate toward Livia
and her son, the Emperor Tiberius, Tacitus drew the colors with which he
painted both one and the other in his _Annals_."
There is good ground for believing that the marriage of Octavius and
Livia was a love match. Though the new bride was descended from one of
the most aristocratic and powerful families of Rome, her relatives were
not especially prominent at that time; so it would seem that the
triumvir's regard for her was not regulated by the calculations of
expediency. Livia possessed not only beauty, but also the character of
mind which was likely to charm a man with the disposition of Octavius.
She was quick to understand and appreciate his intelligent purposes and
far-reaching achievements. There was between the two that sympathy which
is the absolute requisite of a happy marriage.
As to Livia's personal attractions, Ovid assures us that she had the
features of Venus and the manners of Juno. Making not a little allowance
for the flattery made necessary by the position of the courtier, and
some for the license of the poet, we may still believe that the wife of
the first emperor was a very beautiful woman. There are yet in existence
a great many representations of her. She was the first Roman woman to
have her face displayed upon the coin of the realm; but we cannot accept
these images as portraits, though they bear her name. There is one Roman
medal, however, which represents Livia in old age; consequently, we may
safely consider it as authentic. No picture of the youthful loveliness
which captivated Octavius has been preserved; but there is in the Louvre
a magnificent statue which represents Livia as the goddess Ceres. There
is much character in the face, and there is a sufficient resemblance to
Tiberius to authorize the belief that it really portrays his mother. The
form and features are those of a matron on the declining side of thirty.
The figure is majestic, possibly made more so than the original for
reasons complimentary to the divinity; yet it seems to justify Ovid's
account of the Juno-like manners of the Augusta. The charm of youthful
beauty has not yet deserted the face. The eyes, so far as can be judged
from the cold, colorless marble, were lustrous and large; the mouth,
with its short upper lip, was capable of both power and variety of
expression, and doubtless aided Livia to obtain her will of Augustus as
much by its silent eloquence as by its articulate enunciation. To the
slight arch of the Roman nose she of course could claim a national
right.
Three months after her marriage to Octavius, Livia gave birth to her
second son. On this occasion, Caesar wrote in his journal: "To-day my
wife bore me a boy, whom I caused to be sent to his father Nero." But
Nero dying soon afterward, and having in his will left this child--who
was named Drusus--and also the latter's brother Tiberius to the
guardianship of Octavius, the children were again restored to Livia and
trained as the sons of her imperial husband.
Livia's marriage with Octavius, whatever may be said of the
circumstances under which it was brought about, was a happy one. For
fifty-two years they lived together, a period ending only with
Octavius's death; and upon her character as a wife there was never cast,
even by those whose hatred she excited, the slightest reflection. In
the midst of a corrupt and luxurious society, she lived in accordance
with those chaste and simple principles which governed the matrons of
the early Republic. It is said that her husband commonly wore clothing
which was wrought by the hands of his wife and the other female members
of his family. While, however, the house of Octavius was conducted after
the old-fashioned method, Livia was by no means such a political
nonentity as had been the matron of ancient times. She was obedient to
her husband, and in all things subservient to his wishes, even going so
far--if Suetonius is to be credited in the matter--as to more than
condone his wandering inclinations of an amorous nature. Livia knew how
to manage the first man who was able to capture and hold the government
of the Roman Empire. Her tact and good sense, conjoined with his
affection, enabled her to wield an influence over the emperor which had
its effect in the weightiest affairs of State. Her counsel was usually
in the interest of kindness and forbearance; more than once, when he was
inclined to exercise severity in the punishment of his enemies, she won
him to gentler methods. That he frequently sought her advice in
important political matters, we know; and it is on record that
sometimes, when he wished to consult her on subjects of grave moment, he
would first write out that which he desired to say, in order that he
might present his ideas as clearly and correctly as possible.
The picture given us of Livia by the ancient historians is of a double
and somewhat inconsistent character. The wife of Augustus was a model of
uprightness and honor; the empress shown us by Tacitus as seeking to
bring to pass her own designs in regard to the succession was heartless
and unprincipled. Here are the conclusions drawn by Merivale, and they
form a verdict in which probably most students of Roman history will
agree: "In her second home, she directed all her arts to securing her
position, and became, perhaps, in no long course of time, as consummate
a dissembler and intriguer as Octavius himself. While, indeed, she
seconded him in his efforts to cajole the Roman people, she was engaged,
not less successfully, in cajoling him. Her elegant manners, in which
she was reputed to exceed the narrow limits allowed by fashion and
opinion to the Roman matrons, proved no less fascinating to him than her
beauty. Her intellect was undoubtedly of a high order; and when her
personal charms failed to enchain his roving inclinations, she was
content with the influence she still continued to hold over his
understanding The sway she acquired over him in the first transports of
courtship she retained without change or interruption to the day of his
death."
Before we turn our attention to the history of Livia's efforts to secure
the succession for her son Tiberius, let us fill out the picture in
which she stands by placing in it some of the noted women by whom she
was surrounded. First and foremost, there is Octavia, the half-sister of
Cæsar Augustus. For this noble woman the ancient writers have nothing
but the most enthusiastic praise. Plutarch briefly describes her as a
"wonder of a woman." Fortunately, we know more of her than is expressed
in that superlative phrase. Her mother's name was Atia, and she was a
few years older than Octavius. The historian above quoted claims for her
so much beauty that she did not suffer in that respect in comparison
with her great Egyptian rival, Cleopatra; but the figures of her which
are extant hardly support the claim. Nor was she clever like Cleopatra;
indeed, she had little to recommend her except her relationship with the
powerful Octavius, her sterling goodness, and the sweet amiability of
her character. For this reason her marriage to Antony was as great a
failure in the purpose for which it was intended--the winning of the
triumvir from his infatuation--as it was a misfortune to herself. That a
woman like Octavia should be united to such a man as Mark Antony did not
seem to the ancients such a tragedy as it appears to us; and probably
the sister of Octavius endured with an unconcern incomprehensible to us
the knowledge that her husband had been the lover of many women, some
even of the most abandoned sort.
For a while, Octavia did exercise a restraining influence over her
wayward husband; and though she could not gird on a sword and harangue
the legions, as did Fulvia, more than once by her prudence and good
sense she helped Antony materially in his time of need. It also seems
that while his wife was by his side he was able to withstand any
propensity that was in him to go down into Egypt. Plutarch recounts that
Antony having a misunderstanding with Octavius, the two were about to
oppose their forces in civil strife at Tarentum. Octavia, however,
obtained leave of her husband to visit the camp of her brother; "and as
she was on her way she met Cæsar, with his two friends Agrippa and
Mæcenas, and, taking these two aside, with urgent entreaties and much
lamentation she told them that from being the most fortunate woman upon
earth she was in danger of becoming the most unhappy; for as yet
everyone's eyes were fixed upon her as the wife and sister of the two
great commanders, but, if rash counsels should prevail, and war ensue,
'I shall be miserable,' said she, 'without redress; for on what side
soever victory falls, I shall be sure to be a loser.'" Caesar was
overcome by these entreaties, and advanced in a peaceable temper to
Tarentum, where he was entertained by Antony. "And when at length an
agreement was made between them ... Octavia further obtained of her
husband twenty light ships for her brother, and of her brother a
thousand foot for her husband. So, having parted good friends, Caesar
went immediately to make war with Pompey to conquer Sicily," and Antony
repaired to Syria, where he once more met the Egyptian queen; and from
this infatuation Octavia was never again able to win him.
Yet this admirable woman did not cease to fulfil her part as a dutiful
and helpful wife. When her husband returned from his disastrous
expedition against the Parthians, having lost a great part of his forces
and all his supplies, he received a message from Octavia asking where
she might meet him. The answer received by her was a peremptory and
unfeeling command not to proceed further than Athens, as he was about to
start on a new expedition. Displeased though she was, being fully aware
of the cause wherefore she was not welcome, she wrote again, asking to
know to what place she should send the soldiers, money, and presents she
had brought for his use.
On her return to Rome, Cæsar, incensed at the treatment his sister had
received, commanded her to leave Antony's house and repudiate all
further connection with him. This she steadfastly refused to do. She
continued to live in her husband's house until she was obliged to leave
by his own command. Then she took with her own children those of Fulvia;
and after the death of Antony, she even welcomed to her home the
daughter which had been born to him by her Egyptian rival, and it was
impossible for the Romans to perceive that she gave less motherly care
to the young Cleopatra than she bestowed upon her own offspring.
Judging by what we know of her, no age has produced a more beautiful
character than that of Octavia. In her were exemplified the fairest of
those qualities which are especially inculcated by the principles of
Christianity. Goodness, long-suffering, forbearance, and gentleness:
these were exhibited in her life to a degree which after ages refused to
believe possible under paganism; which goes to show that the idea that
the noblest graces of character could not ripen previous to the present
era is an unwarranted assumption. It arises from the fact that in the
accounts we have of the ancient world there is more said of the exercise
and the consequences of violent passions and human depravity than there
is of pure love and kindly forbearance; but this may be accounted for by
the well-attested axiom that peaceful lives furnish no history. If
Octavia, living in the very centre of all the varied influences which
fomented around the Palatine Hill, could maintain a pure and noble
character, we may be very sure that the women who followed her example
in the humbler walks of life were not so few as the Pagan satirists and
the Christian apologists combine in leading us to suppose. There is no
record of Octavia's having taken part in any of those activities by
which Livia and other feminine members of the Cæsarian household
endeavored to affect the course of political events. When all hope of
there being any male issue of Augustus to inherit his rule was
abandoned, the chance that Octavia's son by her first husband would be
the next emperor seemed to become a certainty. Of her bereavement in his
death we will speak later on. As the women with which this chapter deals
were all of one family, and consequently were at home under the same
roof, and, moreover, as the art of building had at this time attained
its perfection at Rome, it will enable us to form a better picture of
the life of these women if we see them in the house, their peculiar
sphere.
About the time that Augustus married Livia, he built for himself a new
residence. The Domus Augustana was erected on the Palatine Hill, and
from the fact that this site was adopted for the imperial abode the
magnificent structures reared upon it were called palaces; thus a word
of differentiation was provided for the dwelling houses of the rulers.
Livia's palace was not a large building, judging from what was
considered necessary at a time when rich families were served by
hundreds of slaves; but Livia was married to a man who was quite willing
to have others of a lower rank outstrip him in extravagant living, so
long as he had the power to decide whether or not it were best for the
interests of the State that they be allowed to live at all; and as the
Augusta had some influence in these decisions, she may have been able
contentedly to visit the wife of Mæcenas, who lived in a house of far
greater magnificence than her own. As the better class of Roman abodes
were all constructed after the same general plan, it is not difficult,
in imagination, out of the materials of information which we possess, to
reërect upon its ruins, which still exist, the Domus Augustana.
The portico which adorned the outside extended the whole length of the
front of the house, and possibly around the sides. It was a colonnade of
native travertine--some of the later occupants of the imperial throne
were hardly satisfied with the costliest marble. The vestibule was a
large apartment, which was always freely open to clients and callers.
The _Salve_ inscribed or worked in mosaic upon the threshold of the
outer door expressed the generous hospitality which characterized all
Roman dwellings of that time. From the vestibule another door led to the
_atrium_, the most important room in the house. It was large, and
decorated with all the splendor which the wealth of the owner could
warrant, and with such beauty as his taste might dictate. It was
roofed, with the exception of an opening in the centre, called the
_compluvium_, through which was admitted the rain water into a cistern
in the floor. In the early times the _atrium_ was the common room of the
family, and in it were carried on the domestic occupations presided over
by the mistress of the house, but in the days of Livia it was the
audience chamber of the owner. The walls of this apartment were highly
decorated with landscape paintings, or else lined with beautiful
marbles. Some of the paintings which covered the walls of the Domus
Augustana have been preserved, and in the great spaces through which
they were seen their brilliant colors must have been very effective.
Opening from the _atrium_ was the _tablinum_; here were the family
archives, the statues, pictures, and other ancestral relics. Around
these great apartments ware smaller chambers, which were commonly used
for the lodging of guests, though it is probable that Livia's
establishment included a house set apart for this purpose. Behind the
apartments we have described, and reached through _fauces_, or narrow
passages, was the real interior and private portion of the palace. First
there came the peristyle. This was a large, oblong court, open to the
sky in the middle and surrounded by a colonnade of polished marble
pillars. The centre of this court was filled with shrubs and flowers,
grown in great boxes of earth; and the beauty and comfort of this
charming "drawing room" were enhanced by the cool fountains of water
with which Rome was so bountifully supplied. Here was Livia's forum.
Here was the fitting stage where she displayed those gifts of mind and
graces of person which never lost their potent influence with her
husband and gave her title of Augusta a real political significance.
Opening from the peristyle was the _triclinium_, or dining hall. It was
here that the extravagance of the Romans was especially exhibited. In
_La Palais de Scaurus_, by Mazois, there is a pen picture of a
_triclinium_, every detail of which is authenticated by ancient
authorities. It reveals a luxury and a disregard of expense to which our
day furnishes no parallel. But the banquet hall of the Augustan house
was not equipped in so costly a fashion; there was still cherished some
remembrance of the ancient Sabine simplicity.
In addition to the apartments mentioned, there were spacious halls and
salons used for such purpose as that of a picture gallery or a library.
The bed chambers were usually placed between the outer walls of the
house and the more important rooms; the only remarkable features about
them were their smallness and inconvenience. There was an upper story,
which was used principally for sleeping apartments, and probably there
were no windows opening to the street except on this second floor. The
rear part of the house was given up to the kitchen, the bakery, and the
mill for grinding flour. Above all, in a literal and also commendatory
sense of the word, was the solarium. This was a delightful retreat on
the roof, furnished with plants, flowers, and fountains.
It was to such an abode as this that Livia came, and there brought her
influence to bear on one of the most brilliant epochs of the world's
history. After her repudiation by Antony, Octavia and her children also
came to reside at the Domus Augustana; and there lived also the little
Julia, the daughter of Scribonia and Octavius.
How early in her career Livia commenced laying her plans for the
succession of her son to the imperial rule, we do not know; nor is there
any certainty as to the extent of her culpability in carrying them out.
It is most likely that her hope that she might bear a son to Augustus
who would have an indisputable claim to the heritage allowed her at
first to view with complacency the already existing putative but more
removed successors. Time wore on, and her expectations failed of
realization. Her sons, Tiberius and Drusus, were growing up, and both
were manifesting those qualities which showed them worthy of taking the
reins of government. The habit of exercising an influence in the affairs
of State, through the confidence placed in her by her husband, made the
prospect of having to relinquish that power, in the event of the death
of Augustus, constantly more intolerable; but the woman who was called
"a female Ulysses" was likely to win her way.
Julia, though the only child born in the purple, might not inherit the
imperial sceptre, being a woman. But Octavia had a son of her first
marriage, named Marcellus, of whom Augustus was especially fond. While
he was but a youth of seventeen, Julia, then fourteen years old, was
given to him in marriage; and thus it was hoped the succession would be
continued by means of the union of the daughter and the nephew of the
emperor. These anticipations were doomed to disappointment, as Marcellus
died shortly after the marriage. One historian, Dion Cassius, informs us
that it was whispered about that Livia was responsible for the death of
Julia's husband, being jealous because Cæsar heaped upon him favors
which were denied to her own sons; but, while relating this, the
historian claims that it was a groundless accusation. However, we have
it on the authority of so trustworthy a witness as Seneca that Octavia,
in this sad bereavement, for once was unworthy of herself. He says that
"she turned to hate all mothers, and the angry passion of her sorrow was
directed principally against Livia, because that now the hope and
prospects that had belonged to her own son were transferred to the son
of Livia." Such unreasoning grief in this otherwise noble woman was a
mark of common human frailty; but it does not present so pleasing a
picture as that memorable scene in which Virgil, at the command of
Augustus, read before Octavia the sixth book of his Æneid, in which he
has commemorated Marcellus. Grief-stricken and dejected as she was,
Octavia probably gave but little attention to the opening lines; but her
interest was aroused as the poet proceeded to describe Æneas's visit to
the under world, where dwelt those who had been dearest to her, and
whither she knew herself to be rapidly tending. When she heard the
lines--
"This youth, the blissful vision of a day,
Shall just be shown on earth, then snatched away,"
she was startled by the description of her own son, and, hiding her
face, she burst into tears; and when the poet uttered the words "_Tu
Marcellus eris_," which he had wisely withheld to the end of the
passage, she could endure no more and swooned because of the intensity
of her sorrowful emotion. The information that she ordered Virgil to be
presented with ten thousand sesterces for every line of the passage
relating to her son is interesting, but does not add particularly to the
beauty of the scene. Shortly after this, occurred her death. Augustus
caused certain public buildings which he was at this time erecting to be
dedicated in honor of his sister.
Now that Julia was married, she was freed to some extent from that
severe discipline in which Augustus deemed it necessary to bring up the
girls of his family. Her training had been very strict. She had even
been obliged, at a time when other girls of far inferior birth were
perfecting themselves in more fashionable accomplishments, to assist her
aunt and her stepmother in spinning wool for her father's clothes. She
was denied any freedom of intercourse with the youths of her own age.
Augustus once wrote to a young nobleman: "You have not behaved with
proper respect in paying a visit to my daughter at Baiæ." But natural
inclination, always stronger than discipline in determining the
direction of a moral career, led Julia into evil courses. For many
years, however, her father saw nothing less innocent in her conduct than
that wit and gayety of spirit which he easily condoned. She well knew
how to turn the edge of the mild rebukes of a fond parent. On one
occasion, seeing her surrounded at a public exhibition by a number of
the young fashionables of the city, and noticing that she did not
maintain that dignity of deportment which he thought becoming in the
daughter of an emperor, Augustus wrote her a letter expressing his
displeasure and holding up before her the example of Livia, who
encouraged in her company none but "grave and reverend signiors." Julia
had a ready reply; this was the note scribbled on a tablet and sent back
to her father: "These young men will also have become old fogies by the
time I am an old woman." One day, later in her life, her father found a
slave engaged in plucking the gray hairs from his daughter's head. This
operation suddenly ceased on his entrance, and he feigned not to have
noticed it. Then he asked abruptly: "Julia, which would you rather
be--gray or bald?" "Why, father, gray, of course," "You little liar,"
replied Augustus, "see here," and he held up some of the gray hairs
which had fallen on her dressing gown.
Shortly after the death of Marcellus, Julia was again married, this time
to the great warrior Agrippa, the staunch friend of her father. This
also was distinctly a political marriage. Julia was eighteen, Agrippa
was forty-two, while at the time of betrothal he was already wedded to
Marcella, the daughter of Octavia. The usual divorce severed these
bonds, and Marcella was given to Antonius, the son of the triumvir. Both
Octavia and Scribonia were desirous of this matrimonial readjustment.
They probably saw that Julia needed a firm disciplinarian like Agrippa
to keep the questionable proclivities of her character from attaining
too exuberant a freedom. It is also likely that they hoped that this
union would result in heirs who would frustrate the expectations of
Livia and her sons. But to their check thus played, Livia, in due time,
answered with a decisive mate. To Julia and Agrippa there were born
three sons and one daughter, named respectively Lucius, Caius, Agrippa
Posthumus, and Julia. Thus Tacitus relates the dénouement: "Augustus had
adopted Lucius and Caius into the Cæsarian family; and although they had
not yet laid aside the puerile garment, his ambition was strong to see
them declared princes of the Roman youth, and even mentioned for the
consulship; at the same time, he affected to decline these honors for
them. Upon the death of Agrippa, they were cut off, either by a decease
premature but natural, or by the arts of their stepmother Livia: Lucius
on his journey to the armies in Spain, Caius on his return from Armenia,
ill of a wound. And as Drusus had been long since dead, Tiberius Nero
was the only surviving stepson. On him every honor was accumulated, he
was adopted by Augustus as his son and a colleague in the Empire ... and
this was brought about, not by the secret machinations of his mother, as
heretofore, but at her open suit. For over Augustus, now aged, she had
obtained such absolute sway that he had banished his only surviving
grandson, Agrippa Posthumus, a person of clownish brutality, with great
bodily strength, but convicted of no heinous offence."
Julia had by this time worked out her own condemnation. Those stories of
her flagrant misconduct which for years had been part of the common
gossip of the baths and porticoes of the city at last reached the ears
of her father. He tried not to believe them. Gazing fondly upon his only
child, he said; "Just like her I am sure that Claudia must have looked,
of whom our forefathers told that she was slandered. But she proved her
innocence." Those to whom he said this listened respectfully; but behind
his back they sneered. After Agrippa's death, Julia had made another
political marriage. Tiberius had been compelled to put away his wife,
Vipsania, the daughter of Agrippa, whom he dearly loved,--she was
probably the only human being for whom this morose man ever had any real
affection,--and was forced, much against his will, to replace her by
Agrippa's widow. Tiberius knew Julia as her father did not; and, rather
than live with her, he betook himself to a voluntary exile in Rhodes. By
thus doing, he seemed to frustrate all his mother's plans for his
advancement; but she, with deadly persistency, determined that there
should be in Cæsar's family no other candidate for the imperial
position, which must soon be vacated. There is some hint of Julia's
misdoings coming to light through the discovery of a plot, in which
Livia had no part, to shorten the emperor's days; but there is no proof,
nor does it seem probable, that Julia was a conspirator against her
father's life. She was probably the tool of others. Augustus, however,
was constrained to institute an investigation, which revealed to him all
the turpitude of his daughter's conduct; she was banished to an island
in the Bay of Naples, and there strictly guarded until the day of her
death.
The case of Julia gives no occasion for pity, except for the gray-haired
old man who had lost by death all those upon whom he had rested his
ambitious hopes for the future of his house. None were left save
Livia,--probably Augustus himself never for a moment entertained a
suspicion that his wife was the cause of his misfortunes,--Tiberius,
whom he never loved, and this woman, whom he wished had died in her
infancy. And yet the edge is taken from any sympathy one might have for
Augustus, when it is remembered that, notwithstanding his stern demand
for chastity on the part of the women of his own family and all of noble
birth, his own conduct, if Suetonius reports truthfully, was no better
than that of his daughter. But to condemn licentiousness in their women
and to practise it themselves did not seem to the men of Rome to be
either illogical or inconsistent.
Julia represented the prevalent social conditions of her time.
Licentiousness, like a cancer, was eating into the heart of Roman
society; and this was to grow still worse. It must be admitted also that
female degeneracy kept pace with the increase of woman's influence in
the political world. Livia and Agrippina the Elder were exceptions; but
the rule was, and has been in all history, that the activity of women in
State affairs was accompanied by an abundance of meretricious amatory
intrigues. It is a remarkable fact that in the history of the Roman
woman--and possibly this statement might be given a much wider
application--there is no instance where any individual woman designedly
helped to bring about the enactment of a law for the public weal. Female
politics always had for their object the advancement of the female
politician's own personal interests or those of some male favorite. And
women could never have favorites outside their own families with safety
to their honor. Whenever women have sought high favors either from men
or for men, their personal charms have ever been their principal
argument and illicit love their chief inducement.
One of the most radical of the early changes made in the Roman
constitution was brought about by the piqued vanity of a woman. Fabius
Ambustus, a man of power and renown in the ancient Republic, had two
daughters. One of them was married to a patrician named Sulpicius, while
the other was espoused to Stolo, a plebeian tribune. This office was the
highest to which at the time a man of plebeian birth could lawfully
aspire. One day the wife of Stolo, being at her sister's house, was
startled by the sound of the lictor's staff at the door--a mode of
announcement to which plebeian ears were unaccustomed. Being laughed at
by Sulpicia, she went to her own home in high dudgeon, and henceforth
neither Fabius Ambustus nor Stolo could gain any relief from her
complaints until they had brought it to pass that the Senate consented
to the conferring of magisterial office upon plebeians, with the
consequence that her husband also might be attended by a lictor with his
axe and rods. The story is important because it illustrates the greater
portion of the Roman woman's interest in politics.
Livia was now the sole woman of influence in the imperial palace.
Scribonia had voluntarily accompanied her daughter into exile; and the
daughter of Julia, who had inherited both her mother's name and her
failings, was banished from the city. It was not difficult now for Livia
to secure the adoption of Tiberius by Augustus as his son and also as
his heir. This, however, was not done without causing some misgivings in
the minds of the Romans, who, as Tacitus says, feared to be under
bondage to a woman "with the ungovernable spirit peculiar to her sex."
On the nineteenth of August, A.D. 14, Livia and the intimate friends of
Augustus were gathered around the emperor's deathbed. "Tell me," said
the great emperor, "have I played well my part?" Posterity has never
questioned the nature or the truth of their answer. Then he said: "Let
all applaud and clap their hands." His last words, which throw more
light on the character of this great woman than all the good and bad
that is said of her, were: "Livia! live mindful of our union; and now,
farewell."
The Augusta had sent urgent messengers to recall her son; and she caused
the people to be kept in ignorance of the true condition of her husband
until the news of his death and of the succession of Tiberius could be
announced at the same time. But, although she had labored so
persistently, and, if the historians are correct, so unscrupulously, for
the accession of her son, with the death of Augustus, Livia's power also
came to an end. Tiberius was impatient of any female interference, even
that of his mother. She was made priestess of the deified Augustus; but
Tiberius declared that public honors should be adjudged to women with
extreme moderation, and he refused to allow a lictor to be appointed for
her service. Still, after a fashion of his own, he treated her with the
greatest respect until the day of her death; and he always allowed her
politic counsels to have considerable weight in his decisions, well
aware that no one else would so jealously guard his interests.
There is one incident which redounds to the credit of Tiberius, whose
sadly damaged reputation needs everything that can be said in his favor,
and which is worth noticing because it not only illustrates his manner
of dealing with the imperious Augusta, but also indicates the kind of
purposes for which the political power of influential women was
exercised. Livia, presuming on her position, demanded that Piso should
be punished for insulting her by suing Urgulania, one of her favorites,
for the payment of money which was clearly due to him. Tiberius refused
so unjust a request, but gave his mother to understand that no less a
person than himself would plead her cause before the judges. He
fulfilled his word by loitering so long on his way to the court that by
the time he reached it the judges had awarded the claimant his right, so
that the empress found no way open by which she could save her friend
except by paying the money herself.
Livia's old age was embittered to herself, and still more discredited
with many of her contemporaries, by a new phase of the old feud which
had for so long rent the imperial family. Agrippina, the daughter of
Julia and Agrippa, had been married to Germanicus, the son of Antonia
and the elder Drusus. In the wedded life of these two was exemplified an
excellence of conjugal union that was almost perfect. Germanicus was a
brave and able soldier and a man whose moral character was far superior
to the standard of his time. Agrippina was a woman whose purity of life
was worthy of the principles which guided the matrons of the ancient
Republic, but whose disposition would not permit her to relinquish any
privilege which was open to the women of the new times and warranted by
her position.
Livia's grudge against Agrippina seems to have been a continuation of
the old discord between the Claudian and the Julian branches of the
governing house. Each of these women had her adherents, who by their
machinations and recriminations made peace an utter stranger in the
imperial palace. Livia, however, possessed a threefold advantage over
Agrippina: the latter was precluded by her nature from adopting against
an enemy any nefarious design--a scruple of which history has been able
to discover no trace in the conduct of the former lady; the Augusta was
strongly supported in her dislike by the Emperor Tiberius; and Agrippina
was away from Rome a great part of the time. She elected to accompany
her husband, even on his most dangerous expeditions. On one occasion,
when their lives were threatened by the mutinous legions and he urged
her to depart to safer quarters, she proudly answered that, being the
granddaughter of the deified Augustus, she was not so degenerate as to
shrink from danger.
To what extent this animosity between the two ladies was carried it is
difficult to determine. Some historians claim that it resulted in
placing another awful crime to Livia's account. Germanicus died in
Seleucia in the thirty-fourth year of his age, of some mysterious
malady; and there were many who at once whispered that Livia had been
the means of bringing about his death by poisoning. But there is no
proof of this, and a careful study of the known facts causes it to seem
improbable. There was no motive for such an act, beyond the fact that
the husband of Agrippina was exceedingly popular with the army and the
people; but this was offset by his undoubted and enthusiastic devotion
to Tiberius. The facts, so far as they are now ascertainable, are these:
Piso, who was Proconsul of Syria, was instigated by his wife Plancina to
acts of disrespect and animosity against Germanicus and Agrippina. This
woman, who was of an exceedingly masculine temperament,--as is shown
among other things by her habit of taking part in the exercises of the
cavalry,--was a great favorite with Livia and shared her closest
confidence. Plancina is said to have kept about her a woman named
Martina, who had an evil reputation as being expert in the use of
poisonous drugs, but of whose existence nothing more is known than the
little that is told in this connection, Germanicus, on his deathbed,
declared that he was cut short in his career by the dark devices of a
woman. The news of his decease did not affect Livia with the same degree
of sorrow as it did the populace; which fact tended to strengthen
suspicion in the minds of the latter. But all this proves nothing, even
though Piso, despairing of acquittal, destroyed himself during his
trial, after having written a letter protesting his innocence. Nor does
the fact that Plancina was protected by Livia furnish any proof that the
aged and much-maligned empress was guilty of instigating the crime, if
crime it was.
Agrippina, after the body of her husband had been burned on the funeral
pyre, set forth in the depth of winter on her journey to Rome with his
ashes. At every port where the fleet touched she received a sad but an
imposing ovation. All the friends of her husband crowded to Brundusium,
where she was to disembark; but they could not agree as to whether she
should be received in respectful silence or with some more demonstrative
expression of their sympathy. Tacitus thus depicts the affecting scene:
"Nothing was settled when the fleet came sweeping slowly in, not rigged
out in sprightly fashion, but wearing the ensigns of sadness. When,
however, the widow descended from the ship, bearing the funeral urn in
her hand, accompanied by her two infants and with her eyes steadily
fixed on the ground, one simultaneous groan burst from the entire
assemblage." Neither Tiberius, nor Livia, nor Antonia, the mother of
Germanicus, attended the funeral. Tacitus gives the reasons that were
alleged, but does not decide which was nearest the truth. "Tiberius and
Livia either thought public lamentation beneath their dignity, or else
they feared lest if folk peered into their faces their hypocrisy would
be discovered. Whether sickness detained Antonia, or overmuch sorrow and
inability to go through the ceremony, is not known. I would rather
believe that she was held back by Tiberius and Livia, who did not leave
the palace, that they might seem to mourn in private."
Agrippina had been exhorted by her dying husband, "as she would cherish
his memory, and for the sake of their children, to divest herself of her
unyielding spirit, and humble herself to Fortune in the storm of her
displeasure; and, on her return to the city, not to irritate, in a
competition for the mastery, those who were more than a match for her."
Such advice given to a Roman matron would have appeared unnecessary to
the men of the old regime; but there was now a throne in Rome, and
consequently women jostled each other for the place of power behind it.
Agrippina needed just such counsel; but her nature would not allow her
to profit by it. Irreproachable in her life, her virtues were not
beautified by the divine gift of good humor; and she possessed no
philosophy. Her mind was of that sort, more common among women than men,
in which an idea having once been entertained is henceforth unassailable
and undetachable by reason. Than this class of mind there is nothing
more exasperating in human knowledge, and it is not to be wondered at
that she irritated Tiberius. These two angered each other on every
occasion of their meeting: the emperor by his cruel persecution of
Agrippina's friends, and she him both by her air of martyrdom and by her
evident and constant suspicion that he was planning some nefarious
project against herself.
There lacked not ambitious men at the time who were ready to gather
around the noble widow on the pretence of siding with her in her
complaints against the emperor; they even sought to raise a party for
the advantage of her children. She probably lent herself to some extent
to these schemes, but not in sufficient degree to bring upon herself the
violence of the suspicious and resentful Tiberius. Nevertheless, all her
sons perished, except Caligula, whom a destiny unkind to the Roman
people protected from the fate of his brothers.
Sejanus, the all-powerful favorite of the emperor, adroitly fanned the
ever-smoldering animosity which naturally existed between Tiberius and
Agrippina. He warned her to beware of poison, after having informed
Tiberius that the matron suspected that the emperor had designs on her
life. So, when the emperor politely handed her fruit, calling her
attention to its excellence, she silently passed it to the slaves. "Can
I avoid," he exclaimed to Livia, "treating this woman with harshness,
when she accuses me to my face of seeking to poison her?"
The favorite Sejanus aimed at removing every heir to the imperial
throne, in order that at the death of Tiberius he might rule in name, as
he already did in effect. To achieve this end, he first seduced Livilla,
the wife of the son of Drusus Tiberius; then he procured by her means
the death of Drusus and asked Livilla in marriage. This the emperor
refused. At length,--not, however, until after Agrippina's sons had been
destroyed,--Antonia, the mother of Livilla, was constrained to write to
Tiberius of the conspiracy of Sejanus, and by her means he was brought
to justice. Livilla was starved to death by the command of her mother.
Livia seems to have been at all times an obedient and submissive wife.
She was honored by the confidence of her husband. She shared in the
knowledge of his deepest political projects, and her advice was asked in
regard thereto. But there is no indication that she ever sought to
dictate. It was otherwise, however, with Tiberius. Whether Livia
considered that a mother's prerogative was more commanding than that of
a wife, or that a larger share of the rule might be claimed by her on
account of the fact that she had secured it for Tiberius, certain it is
that the latter found there was not enough room for himself and the
Augusta in the imperial palace. Suetonius informs us that on one
occasion, when Tiberius had haughtily objected to his mother's sharing
the government with him, Livia produced some letters which Augustus had
written to her complaining of the pride and arrogance of Tiberius. The
discovery that his mother had treasured these letters against him for so
many years so wounded the emperor that he immediately left the city, and
he never again saw his mother except for a few hours on one occasion.
It is said that during her last days, when there was little more to hope
for and nothing else to do, Livia strove to defend Agrippina from the
machinations of Sejanus and the hatred of Tiberius. For twenty years she
had done somewhat to relieve the hardship of her daughter-in-law Julia's
exile; but she never sought to have her recalled. Tacitus says that,
having secretly overthrown her stepchildren in their prosperity, it was
her custom to make an open show of compassion toward them in their
adversity.
Livia the Augusta died in A.D. 29, at the age of eighty-five. The
verdict of the historian is that she had been a stepmother to the
commonwealth of Rome; and this perhaps expresses her politics better
than any other term that could be employed. A faithful wife, a fond
mother, she had relentlessly witnessed the removal of every obstacle in
the way of Tiberius. For the sake of her son, she had done and suffered
everything; for the people, she had done nothing. Her powerful influence
had at all times been directed by her emotions; and if we should carry
the study to the end of the Empire, bringing into review all the
consorts and female associates of the emperors, this would still be the
summary of the story of the Roman woman in politics.
Tiberius refused to permit the apotheosis of Livia; but after his death
the highest honors which a superstitious people could devise were paid
to her memory. Claudius caused her to be deified, and the worship of
Livia was constituted one of the functions of the Vestals. An idealized
statue of her was placed in the temple of Augustus. Medals were
impressed with the image of her head, and it was ordered that when the
women of Rome had occasion to swear, it should be "By Livia."
On the whole, the Roman people, who understood Livia's character better
than it is possible for us to do at this late day, judged her very
kindly. Her virtues, which were conjugal and domestic, were always
popularly respected, though not generally followed. Her pride and cruel
vices were readily condoned, because they were considered indispensable
to the policy of rulers. Her husband was a successful statesman; he
maintained his position on the throne and accomplished much for the best
interests of the Empire. Livia was a successful politician; she kept the
people enamored of her supremacy, but furthered no interests save those
of herself and her son.
Soon after the death of Livia, Agrippina was banished to the island of
Pandataria, where her mother Julia had been confined for so many
repentant years. It seems that her redoubtable spirit would not allow
her to submit to this tyranny without a struggle; and so brutal were the
soldiers in enforcing the emperor's command upon her who had once been
known as "The Mother of the Camps," that she lost the sight of one of
her eyes. After four years of miserable exile, she ended her life in the
"high Roman manner" by voluntary starvation.
In the Capitol Museum there is a seated figure of Agrippina. It is one
of the noblest pieces of statuary in the world. In it is seen none of
that feminine sweetness which endeared the young wife of Germanicus to
the hearts of the Roman legions; but there is that proud consciousness
of moral dignity which Livia could not rival and that imperial manner
which Tiberius could not cow. It is a sad, strong-hearted woman. One
could fancy that a composite of all the noblest Roman matrons might have
made just such a picture. Or it might be the goddess Roma, in whose
personification are included the femininity of her daughters and also
the sternness of her sons.
In the daughter of Germanicus we have another Agrippina, who was a much
more adroit politician than her mother. She was shrewder even than
Livia, and more unprincipled; and was favored beyond parallel in
position, for she was daughter by adoption of Tiberius, mother of Nero,
sister of Caligula, and wife of Claudius. The last mentioned relation
gave her a much more effective position of vantage than Livia had
enjoyed--first, on account of Claudius's incapacity, and also because
the Romans had allowed themselves to drift further away from the old
republican ideas. Hereafter we shall study the character of Agrippina
and shall be compelled to place her among those notorious women who
helped to make the Neronian age the most corrupt period in the world's
history. Here we notice but briefly her political ambitions. She managed
the emperor, securing with slight persuasion the appointment or the
dismissal of the most important State officers. She established colonies
in her own name. Nor was she satisfied to remain merely the power behind
the throne. When Caractacus the British king was carried prisoner to
Rome, and for his courageous bearing gained for himself his wife and his
brothers from the emperor, the prisoners did homage not only to
Claudius, but also to Agrippina. The empress occupied a second throne
and received an equal share of the gratitude of the prisoners and the
plaudits of the people. Here was seen, as Tacitus remarks, a spectacle
strange and unauthorized by any former custom. A woman had never before
presided over the Roman ensigns. Agrippina boldly claimed to be a
partner in the Empire which her ancestors had wrested from the ancient
republican suffrage.
It was with Agrippina the Second as it had been with Livia, every
political aspiration was concentrated upon one object--the elevation of
her own son to the imperial rule, and all the activities emanating from
her energetic, resourceful nature were employed in hewing a path for
Nero's advancement. Woe befell the persons who stood in that path or
seemed likely at any time to have it in their power and inclination to
impede that advancement. They were ruthlessly cut down in that
unrelenting manner of which only an ambitious woman is capable. There
were no public works, nothing broad-minded, no thought of the common
good: the sole motif of the Roman woman in politics was personal
preferment.
_VIII_