Roman Aristocratic Women from the Late Republic to the Early Imperial Period

Home , 83 BC, Terentia

Revised limits of participation in public life: Roman aristocratic women from the late republic to the early imperial period

Hugh Lindsay, BA Hons (Western Australia); MA (Western Australia); MA (Adelaide)

A thesis submitted in fulfilment of the requirements for the Degree of Doctor of Philosophy in Classics

March 2019

This research was supported by an Australian Government research Training Program (RTP) Scholarship

Statement of Originality

I hereby certify that the work .embodied in the thesis is my own work, conducted under normal supervision. The thesis contains no material which has been, accepted, or is being examined, for the award of any other degree: or diploma in any university or tertiary institution and, to the best of my knowledge and belief, contains no material previously published or written by another person, except where due reference has been made. I give consent to the final version ot1my thesis being made available worldwide when deposited in the University's Digital Repository, and subject to the provisions of the Copyright Act 1968 and any approved embargo.

Hugh Lindsay

2 Contents

Abstract 4

Acknowledgments 5

List of illustrations 6

Abbreviations 7

1. Introduction

The topic 8-9 Previous accounts of Roman women and their roles 9-23 The research method, aims, and limitations 23-34

2. Roman ideals and gender roles 35-78

3. Legal issues relating to the status of Roman women: 79-115 continuity and change between 200 BC and the age of Augustus

Republican women from Cornelia to Terentia: evolving participation

4. Cornelia 116-137 5. Clodia 138-157 6. Servilia 158-176 7. Terentia and Tullia 177-207

Triumviral women: a world in transition 8. Fulvia: 208-239 9. Octavia 240-279 10. Conclusion 280-291 Bibliography 292-325

Abstract

Revised limits of participation in public life: Roman aristocratic women from the late republic to the early imperial period

This thesis charts the growth in the role of elite Roman women in public life from the period of the Gracchi to the early empire under Augustus. Roman patriarchy excluded women from direct participation in politics in the forum or the Senate, so much emphasis falls on indirect access to power. To review this, two introductory chapters discuss Roman male perceptions of ideal female behaviour, and legislative changes with a direct impact on female lives. This is followed by studies of significant individuals, divided into two groups. The first reviews Cornelia, Clodia, Servilia, and Terentia and Tullia. Cornelia’s life as the mother of revolutionary sons is the sole example from the second century BC, and is followed by key characters from the last generation of the Republic. The second consists of Fulvia and Octavia, women whose status was prominent during the triumvirate as successive wives of the triumvir Antony. Individual lives are tested to establish the extent to which they were pushing the boundaries of ideal behaviour, and to attempt to establish how and why this occurred. Each individual is tested against their adherence to traditional female roles, their advance into areas of controversy, and finally truly transgressive acts. The application of these tests shows that matters advanced over the selected period as areas considered controversial or transgressive modified under changed social and political conditions. Many of the changes occurred informally, as women became involved in political arrangements through the extended relevance of the domestic context. Women were initially used as proxies in the late Republic because of frequent male absences overseas, and later in unusual roles during the unstable conditions during the triumvirate. Finally, the advent of empire and the imperial court encouraged their acceptance in further novel roles.

Acknowledgements

Many thanks to my supportive colleagues at UoN while I have been working on this thesis since 2015, especially to my supervisors Dr Jane Bellemore and Professor Marguerite Johnson. Particular thanks for help over various organisational matters to Dr Elizabeth Baynham, Dr Troy Duncan, Associate Professor Neil Morpeth, and Terry Ryan.

List of illustrations

1. R. Lanciani, Forma Urbis Romae, plates 21 & 28 combined 265

2. Reproduction of Plate XXIX from G. Carettoni, A. Colini, L. Cozza, 266

and G. Gatti (eds.) La pianta marmorea di Roma antica. Forma

urbis Romae (Rome 1960).

3. Piranesi, Le Antichità romane, IV, 39 267

4. Statue base in Capitoline museum: Cornelia: CIL 6.10043=ILS 68, author’s 273

photo

5. Statue base in Capitoline museum: Cornelia, showing depth of the plinth, 274

author’s photo

6. Statue of Helen, mother of Constantine, Capitoline museum, author’s 274

photo

Abbreviations

Standard abbreviations for ancient sources are utilised, following conventions in Oxford Classical Dictionary (ed. S Hornblower and A, Spawforth), 3rd revised edition 2003. The following other abbreviations are employed:

AE L’Année épigraphiique, Paris 1888-

CIL Corpus Inscriptionum Latinorum, Berlin 1863-

D. Digesta Iustiniani, ed. T. Mommsen, Berlin 1877, translated in A.

Watson (ed.) The Digest of Jusinian, 4 vols, Philadelphia 1985

EDCS Epigraphische Datenbank Clauss – Slaby. www.manfredclauss.de/

EJ2 V. Ehrenberg and A.H.M. Jones, Documents illustrating the Reigns of

Augustus and Tiberius, 2nd edition, Oxford 1976

FGrHist F. Jacoby, Fragmente der griechischen Historiker, Berlin 1923-

ILS H. Dessau, Inscriptiones Latinae Selectae, Berlin 1892-1916

LT Laudatio Turiae (= Wistrand [1976])

LTUR M. Steinby (ed.) Lexicon Topographicum Urbis Romae, Rome 1993-

MRR T.R.S. Broughton, The Magistrates of the Roman Republic (1951-2;

1986)

Milet. T. Wiegand (ed.) Milet: Ergebnisse der Ausgrabungen und

Untersuchungen seit dem Jahre 1899 (1966-)

ORF4 H. Malcovati, Oratorum Romanorum Fragmenta, 4th edition 1967

PL J.-P. Migne, Patrologia Latina (1841-1865)

PIR2 Prosopographia Imperii Romani Saeculorum I, II, II, 1933-

RE Real-Encyclopaedie der classischen Altertumwissenschaft, 1893-

RPC Roman Provincial Coinage, http://rpc.ashmus.ox.ac.uk/

SIG3 W. Dittenberger, Sylloge Inscriptionum Gaecarum, 3rd edition (1915-

1924) 7

Chapter 1: Introduction

Revised limits of participation in public life: Roman aristocratic women from the late

Republic to the early imperial period

The topic

In recent years there has been much interest in the growth in the public visibility of elite

Roman women soon after the Second Punic War, which increases dramatically in the last generation of the Republic, and culminates during the triumviral period. By the age of

Augustus, the imperial women have entrenched their presence and power at the imperial court, a pattern already evident in the Hellenistic monarchies.1 The underlying causes and stages of this social shift have been little explored.

This thesis aims to outline Roman male attitudes to female behaviour, and the impact of legislation on female lives. Its scope is to identify key changes to the limits of participation of elite Roman women in social and political life in the late Republic and during the transition to the imperial system. The structure adopted here involves two introductory chapters dealing with the social and legal conditions relevant to female lives in the period after 200 BC.

Attention then shifts to the evidence from a limited group of elite lives from the period which shed light on different types of changes, and factors enabling these women to gain greater visibility or actual power.

The tendency in the scholarship has been not to treat elite women together, since their lives vary greatly, but to use them to illuminate the development of particular male careers. As a group, women reveal individual responses to political and social changes, and illustrate the

1 Spawforth (2007).

picture of emerging female roles. One such group of comprises Cornelia, daughter of Scipio

Africanus, born just after the Second Punic war, Clodia, Servilia, and Terentia and Tullia, all born after 100 BC. The latest figures treated are Fulvia and Octavia, whose adult lives at the end of the Republic extend respectively to the triumviral period and the first part of the reign of Augustus. Livia, whose life further developed political roles, has been omitted, since most of her impact was confined to the Empire. The subjects will be tested to assess individual contributions, but the overriding concern is to outline changes in the role of elite women as a whole through close examination of social and legal conditions, to demonstrate developments in the face of changing circumstances.

Previous accounts of Roman women and their roles

There are challenges in understanding changes to female roles because of both ancient and modern perspectives on ‘female biography’.2 Female voices are hard to hear in the ancient evidence, and older scholarship tended to be too ready to accept the picture of conditions supplied by the Roman male elite. More critical approaches to the ancient sources have developed since the 1970s, especially in the growing body of feminist literature, but some modern studies are still insufficiently critical of Roman male portraits of major female characters.3 Writers about Roman women, whether ancient or modern, are trapped not simply by the cultural prejudices in ancient accounts of female lives, but also by unacknowledged attitudes from their own cultural backgrounds.4

2 Keegan (2017) 145.

3 E.g. Scullard (1970) 313-316: Joshel (1997) 221-254; Keegan (2017) 147-153.

4 A theme pursued by Bourdieu (1977) 72-95.

To explain the shortage of female voices we need to view it as a product of the values promoted by Roman patriarchy. A modern formulation defines patriarchy as ‘a familial- social, ideological, political system in which men – by force, direct pressure or through ritual, tradition, law, and language, customs, etiquette, education, and the division of labour, determine what part women shall or shall not play, and in which the female is everywhere subsumed under the male’.5 Bennett observes that some women today contribute to the persistence of patriarchy through ‘collusive patriarchy’, by accepting roles subservient to men which give them short term benefits.6 Features of the above definition can be identified in

Roman society, but this study asks what changes occurred and why and how they altered female lives. The changes could be assessed as what Kandiyoti has termed ‘patriarchal bargains’- compromises forced on women, not in effect undermining the patriarchy, but providing limited-term relief from its strictures.7 There is only sufficient evidence in the case of a small number of elite Roman women to assess transformations, and consider whether changes are initiated by women or either ‘allowed’ or prompted by men.

Today Roman women are viewed through a different lens from centuries past. The approach taken by later Nobel Prize winner Theodore Mommsen in the 1880s involved a very literal acceptance of the characterisation of such controversial figures as Agrippina and Messalina.8

Historians and biographers in antiquity depicted them as transgressive figures, interfering in areas outside the bounds of their gendered roles, and Mommsen and others took at face value

5 Rich (1976) 57; Bennett (2006) 55.

6 Bennett (2006) 56-60.

7 Kandiyoti (1988) 274-290.

8 Mommsen (1992) 165-175. This volume reconstructs Mommsen’s lectures from 1882/1883. On the ancient sources: Gruen (2000) 4; Keegan (2017) 147-148.

dominant masculine accounts of their moral corruption. There was little concern with critical assessment of the male point of view, or the impact of the genre presenting these roles.

Agrippina was still construed in this way in general books on the period as late as 1970.9

Positivism and its belief in the unshakeable value of ancient texts continued to predominate until Pomeroy’s widely disseminated 1975 book, when the focus turned to dominant male attitudes and gender relations in ancient society, an approach shared by the sourcebook by

Lefkowitz and Fant which appeared in the same year.10 These new approaches were influenced by many factors including de Beauvoir’s The Second Sex (1949), with its detailed insistence on the social construction of sex, and aspects of the post-war environment contributing to the growth of the feminist movement. De Beauvoir’s book promoted discussion of how women had been viewed historically and opened up an ongoing debate.11

Previously, much emphasis had been placed on determining the position of Roman women from legal rules and texts that describe female roles.12 Naturally, exact readings are valuable, but they need to acknowledge gender bias and other factors relevant to their positioning. In the 1970s matters began to advance as historians acknowledged the need to interrogate the motives behind the sources and the modes of depiction of women.

9 Scullard (1970) 313-316: Keegan (2017) 149; Blok (1987) underlines the continuity of 19th century thinking until the 1970s.

10 Pomeroy (1975) xii; Dixon (2001) 3. For earlier bibliography: Goodwater (1975); Lefkowitz and Fant (1975)

Women in Greece and Rome. Later reissued in 1982 as Women’s Life in Greece and Rome: A Sourcebook in

Translation.

11 Butler (1990) xxx; 13; 59-60; Irigaray (1995).

12 Blok (1987) 2-5; 13.

In the 1930s, Last typified a view that admitted to the growth in the independence of Roman women, but nevertheless warned of the moral impact of change. The notion of separate male and female roles is implicit in his study, reflecting his era and the atmosphere behind the composition of de Beauvoir’s The Second Sex and its conception of the ‘other’.13

Rosaldo has emphasised that 19th century thinking supported a clear cut division between gendered roles in public and private spheres, which does not mesh with the realities, whether ancient or modern. Her approach helps to explain the reception of the Roman scene. 19th century views did see a fundamental divide between the public and the private.14 This asymmetrical view of society dominated 19th century and early 20th century thinking about ancient society.15 Russell’s recent book tries to understand gradations of the public and private in terms of the process of negotiating space, and reacts against overly schematic division of public and private space.16

Like earlier generations, focus remains today on the Roman elite because most extant texts were written by members of the male elite and addressed to that audience. This male focus requires us to be alert to Roman male ideas about sex and gender. Hallett has suggested that elite Roman women were conditioned to accept the Roman male conceptualisation of their sex. Punishment and disapproval of transgressive behaviour by Roman males appear to have

13 Last (1934) 440; Blok (1987) 36-37; Hallett (1989) 60-61.

14 Rosaldo (1980).

15 Blok (1987) 7-10.

16 Russell (2016).

had a major role in shaping behavioural patterns, but we cannot fully confirm Hallett’s contention in the absence of female perspectives. 17

Balsdon (1962) produced a still valuable collection of information about Roman women, but interpretations are frequently superficial and far removed from current concerns. Richlin notes Balsdon’s tendency to imply that there were many women at Rome of the sort depicted and satirised by Juvenal, prone to womanly weakness and incapable of controlling their passions.18 Dixon commends the detailed documentation in the work, despite its limitations.19

The scope of Bauman’s 1992 contribution has been criticised as overly ambitious, but it serves to update Balsdon’s 1962 volume.20 His work attempts to trace the expansion of the role of women from the 4th century BC to the early Empire. Like the present study, it concentrates on the elite, and identifies unfolding stages. The evidence is uneven, and it is hard to trace evolving roles with the available evidence. Bauman has difficulty in demonstrating that his schematic ideas about a politics of protest, or great political matrons, have any coherence. Matters only deteriorate as the volume of evidence increases. The lens through which he views women such as Clodia and Fulvia does not include careful consideration of the damage done by Cicero’s Pro Caelio or the Philippics.21 This underlines his literal approach and lack of detailed attention to the rhetorical nature of the evidence.

Little is said of the private sphere and its developing importance in the late republic. Bendix

17 Hallett (1989) 59. She employs the love elegist Sulpicia to support her argument: 69-72.

18 Richlin (2014a) 63-64 on Balsdon (1962) 261.

19 Dixon (2001) 3.

20 Bendix (1993).

21 Seager (1994).

(1993), reviewing Bauman, reminds us of the slogan of Second-wave feminism: ‘The personal is political’ (Hanisch [1970]). An essential part of Roman life in the late Republic, and beyond, is how public the private space of elite Roman women had become. The public/private divide has generated a considerable literature covering both Rome and theoretical discussions.22

Bauman’s literal approach was answered by Hillard in a study reviewing the impact of rhetoric on the image of Roman women in the late Republic.23 More recent work has placed considerable emphasis on the power of rhetoric to demonise women (Santoro L’hoir [1992] on character portrayal; also Ige [2003]; Myers [2003]). Richlin (1983) analysed diverse types of invective to explore cultural stereotypes attacked by Roman males. Her most recent work

(2014a) has brought together a collection of earlier essays prefaced by a discussion of how to discover more from this compromised evidence. As Richlin points out, writing women’s history (gender-inclusive history) is difficult for the same reasons that cause problems when writing of children, the poor, and slaves: ‘These groups either did not themselves write or what writing they did was not kept’.24 Very little writing by Roman women has survived.25

Richlin coins the term ‘optimistic epistemology’ to describe the methodology of analysing the existing (largely male) sources to uncover the experience of these women. Dixon similarly and sardonically has acknowledged that only a partial reality can be achieved, and

22 Arendt (1958); Habermas (1989 [1962]); Siltanen and Stanworth (1984); Thébert (1987); Helly and Reverby

(1992); Wallace-Hadrill (1996); Riggsby (1997); Weintraub (1997); Treggiari (1998); Landes (1998); Lamphere

(2008); Trümper (2012).

23 Hillard (1992).

24 Richlin (2014a) 5.

25 For a compendium of what survives: Plant (ed.) (2004).

denominates the approach as ‘the Sleeping Beauty view of history’.26 All those who work in the area recognise these limitations, but continue to work on developing our understanding of how the ancient sources have been shaped.

Both Richlin and Dixon believe that something can be learned from topics avoided by Roman authors. Richlin is critical of major modern studies that omit the place of women in Roman religion.27 Dixon (2001) sees 19th century approaches as influenced by a social evolutionary model of progress towards civilisation, which tended to assume that Roman women necessarily had low status. Colonialist approaches, which saw the male-driven model at

Rome and Athens as the model for 19th century imperialism, had further limitations.28 Like

Richlin, Dixon explores the process of reading ancient texts in new ways, using genre as a key to understanding the material. She includes a wide range of evidence, both literary and non-literary texts, as well as material remains. Her literature review and discussion of the male-centered texts emphasises the need to explore authorial motives. The legends of

Lucretia and Verginia, for example, assist patriarchy through an insistence on female purity that operates at a symbolic and political level. The Augustan adultery law, which classified adultery as a crime controlled by the state, is construed as a response to threats to male control. Dixon shares my scepticism about how much biographical material can be derived from the Pro Caelio and the poems of Catullus.

Several works since the 1990s have discussed aspects of Roman sexuality and morality.

Edwards (1993) analyses political and literary images of immorality. She avoids discussing

26 Dixon (2001) 5.

27 Richlin (2014a) 28-32.

28 Blok (1987) 18-19; Dixon (2001) 4.

the truth or falsity of claims of immorality, and concentrates on identifying the focus of late

Republican and early Imperial texts. She is interested in invective, and its purpose. Williams

(1999) continues earlier discussions of Roman sexuality, emphasising active and passive roles. He clarifies what was seen as sexually deviant. The work includes a vocabulary study of stuprum (illicit sex with a freeborn partner of either sex), developing ideas from Fantham

(1991). Langlands (2006) investigates the concept of pudicitia as an aspect of ethical behaviour, working primarily with literary sources (2nd century BC- 2nd century AD). She emphasises pudicitia as a non-gender-specific term, worshipped as a deity, not best translated as chastity – but rather sexual virtue, inviting discussion about sexual norms. Women could demonstrate pudicitia through behaviour, approved ritual activity, and public acknowledgement (honours). The stories of Lucretia and Verginia are treated as exemplifications of the ethics of power in ancient Rome, keeping the focus on how gender affects the Roman understanding of pudicitia.29 The main argument in Langlands challenges the current model of Roman sexuality (penetration and binary opposites). The work concentrates on authorial political opinions and the contemporary moral culture.

The world of the Vestal Virgins was modernised by Beard (1980); (1995). Their importance here derives partly from their elite origin within families resembling those of the women under review. Further work by Staples (1998), Parker (2004) and Wildfang (2006) has helped to integrate the study of these guardians of the state into mainstream discussion of the sexuality of Roman women. Others who have been interested in women’s roles in religion include Kraemer (1988); (1992); Schulz (2006); (2012).

29 Role models are further explored in Bell (2008). 16

Roman dress is closely related to how Roman women were perceived. Sebesta (1997) relates dress to attitudes to morality in Augustan Rome. A collection edited by Sebesta and Bonfante

(2001) includes a detailed discussion of the history of the toga and its use as a punishment for adulteresses. The symbolic value of Roman costume and its power to control behaviour is explored in the volume, further developed by Edmondson in his own contribution to

Edmondson and Keith (2008). Vout’s important study of the toga (1996) has been followed by the work of Olson, who has explored the capacity of clothing to promote and symbolise status (2002; 2008a; 2008b). There is the edited volume by Cleland, Harlow and Llewellyn-

Jones (2005), and the list continues to grow.

Hemelrijk (1999), on the education of Roman women, shows that the male focus of the ancient sources failed to take sufficient account of educational opportunities for elite women, often overlooked because they differed substantially from the preparation of males for public life. Boatwright (2011) investigates another largely unexplored facet of elite life. Mainly through literary sources, she discusses images and structures honouring prominent women in the forum. In the period encompassed here, women’s participation in the life of the forum was generally seen as transgressive; this article demonstrates that the situation changed significantly as the Empire progressed. Wood (1999) provides a comprehensive guide to the iconography of imperial women, relevant to the case of Octavia.

Scholarship on the legal status of Roman women began to respond to issues relating to gender during the 1980s, and came to fruition with Gardner’s 1986 book on women and

Roman law, differentiating the female experience. Gardner’s other studies updated the understanding of women’s roles within Roman society. Gardner (1993) discusses limitations met by Roman women in relation to Roman citizenship and guardianship, matters relating to 17

status and independence. Gardner (1998) discusses emancipation, adoption, and the role of mothers and maternal kin within the family. Her study shows that cognati gained new rights to inheritance in the transition from Republic to Empire. Guardianship has been updated by

Dixon (1984), a thorough review, which shows that by the late Republic women were authorised to manage their own affairs with minimal supervision. Nevertheless, both men and women could be subject to paternal power for a great portion of their lives. Legal studies have helped to explain the role of peculium in softening the impact of patria potestas

(Kirschenbaum [1987]; Fleckner [2014]).

Looper-Friedman (1987) has reviewed the implications of manus marriage, the form of marriage in decline in the late Republic, which permanently cut the bride’s financial ties to her natal family. This area is imperfectly understood because of paucity of information and examples, but the decline of manus appears to be a factor in the improved financial standing of elite women in the late Republic.30 Manus is also covered by Treggiari (1991), who provides a well organised account of attitudes to marriage in law and practice among the elite, covering engagement, marriage, children, and separation. Her coverage with these new emphases replaces Corbett (1930), previously the only detailed treatment of legal aspects of

Roman marriage.

The function of the Lex Oppia (215 BC), which regulated extravagance and display of finery by women under conditions of war is reviewed by Culham (1982; 2004), and Livy’s account of debates about its repeal in 195 BC has been scrutinised by Mastrorosa (2006). A recent synoptic treatment of sumptuary laws is Zanda (2011). Closely related is the question of

30 Explored in Lindsay (2009b) 188; 191-193; 196-197.

female wealth in the early 2nd century BC (Dixon [1985b]). Cato’s attitudes to the repeal of the Lex Oppia, and the existence of male interests opposing him, show that the approach to female visibility was far from static or uniform. The law was repealed and the attempt to reduce female roles was unsuccessful. The Lex Voconia of 169 BC restricted the access of elite women to inheritances and seems also to derive from what has been labelled the antifeminist agenda of Cato (Vigneron [1983]). Dixon shows that some males attempted to avoid provisions of the Lex Voconia by using trusts (1985a). Sirks (1994) explored the idea that the Lex Voconia tried to exclude female heirs because of the obligation to maintain the sacra, traditionally a male preserve. More recently, interest has focused on how long the law remained effective, and the impact of the Augustan inheritance laws, which do not seem to have restricted female inheritance for candidates who met their specific criteria (Hopwood

[2009]).

Between the repeal of the Lex Oppia and the enactment of the Lex Voconia, the Bacchanalian scandal of 186 BC occurred.31 The evidence of Livy has been thought to exaggerate the role of women in the cult (Edwards [1993]), but my discussion will show that their leadership and prominence can help to explain the strong response by the authorities.

The Augustan legislation on morals and marriage appears to respond to moral and social problems carried over from the late Republic. Csillag (1976) provides a thorough study of the legislation, built on substantially by McGinn (1998a). In a study of the status of prostitutes,

McGinn’s detailed discussion of the Augustan marriage laws as well as the contemporaneous adultery law highlights the interventionist provisions, and the state’s dominant role in

31 de Cazanove (1983); Pailler (1988); Scafuro (1989); Bauman (1990); Rüpke (2007); Nousek (2010); Mignone

(2016).

enforcement, which seem to target issues related to patria potestas, and the perceived need for reform. Adulteresses were assimilated to prostitutes, a measure aimed to cumulate the shame and marginality set in motion by prosecution. The status of the prostitute is central to the representation of Roman women, who were constantly reminded by the cultural models of

Lucretia and Verginia of the injunction to safeguard their pudicitia, further underscored by penalties for adulteresses which included wearing the demeaning toga (Langlands 2006).

Cohen (1991) also discusses the connection between the Augustan legislation and Roman attitudes to honour and shame.

Several recent biographies of the women discussed in the main body of the thesis have appeared, as well as collections covering some of the subjects. A number of these, discussed below, contribute significantly to this project, sharing the methodology of interrogating the ancient accounts to understand their approach to their subject and its implications. Cluett

(1998), a study of triumviral women, is particularly acute on the political roles.

Cornelia, born in the 190s BC, the mother of the Gracchi and a character idealised as an exemplary matrona, has been investigated by Barnard (1990), Petrocelli (2001), Hallett

(2004); (2006a), and Dixon (2007), each analysing her entire life through a critical lens.

Awareness of the unsatisfactory materials is leading to a better idea of Cornelia’s strengths and weaknesses. Studies by Beness and Hillard have looked at individual problems: (1990);

(2013); (2016). The focus in the present treatment is largely on her educational role, and the question of the extent of her political aims.

Clodia’s controversial career has long attracted attention through her intersection with

Cicero’s Pro Caelio, and the Catullan corpus. Born in the 90s BC, her early life is little 20

documented until she appears in Cicero’s letters in 62 BC. A recent new edition of the Pro

Caelio (Dyck [2013]) has updated the earlier commentary of Austin (1952). Much progress in understanding Clodia has been made since the 1970s: Wiseman (1969); (1975); (1985),

Hillard (1973); (1989); (1992), and Skinner (1982); (1983). More recently, a sourcebook by

Hejduk (2008) has collected all the testimonia and translated them for a wider audience.

Skinner produced a biography in 2011. All these works underline the damaging impact of genre on the image of Clodia. An attempt is made here to provide a realistic reading of

Clodia’s social importance and to explain the selective nature of surviving evidence. Her transgressive involvement in politics is a recurring theme.

Servilia was the mother of Brutus and three significant daughters, but has hitherto been poorly served by biographers despite status as a mistress of Caesar. Treggiari’s important new biography which appeared in March 2009 was too late for this thesis. Some brief references are included. Servilia appears in a paper by Borello in a recent survey of elite women, Cenerini and Rohr Vio (eds) (2016), and in Münzer (1920), now translated into

English (1999). Focus has tended to be limited to her role as the mother of Brutus rather than her political role (Africa [1978]; Clarke [1981]); Tempest [2017]).

Terentia and Tullia are in a sense well known, especially Terentia. Cicero’s correspondence provides otherwise uncharted details about the role of Republican wives during male absences from Rome, although Terentia’s responses have not survived. Her political activity has recently been explored by Buonpane (2016). Jeppesen-Wigelsworth (2013) has suggested a comparable role for Tullia. Dixon (1986) explores the finances of both women. Carp (1981) looks at their level of independence. Cicero’s letters to Terentia from exile are analysed by

Grebe (2003); (2011); Guillaumont (2015). Brennan (2012) has insightful comments on 21

Terentia in his synoptic study. Full biographies include Ermete (2003) and Treggiari (2007).

The latter is particularly useful for it scrupulous attention to the text of Cicero’s letters.

Fulvia had a history of marriages to popularis politicians. She was criticised for transgressive prominence after the murder of Clodius in 52 BC. She is characterised as a woman appropriating male roles, and has attracted much attention but few fuller biographical sketches. Fischer (1999) combined her biography with that of Octavia. An early sketch by

Balsdon (1962) was followed by a serious analysis of her early career and marriages by

Babcock (1965). Delia (1991) confronted the tradition of Fulvia’s politicisation and denied it, an approach criticised by Welch (1995) and Brennan (2012). Her career has also been investigated by Virlouvet (2001). The impact of Ciceronian rhetoric on her reputation is scrutinised by Myers (2003) and Ige (2003).

Fulvia’s wider role in the politics of the Perusine war (Gabba [1971]) brings in the career of

Lucius Antonius, reinterpreted by Roddaz (1988), as well as the activities of Sextus

Pompeius (Welch [2012]). Hallett (1977) investigated attacks on Fulvia’s reputation on glandes from Perusia; Benedetti (2012) has provided a new catalogue of the evidence.

Hallett’s further studies have dealt with Fulvia as mother of Iullus Antonius (2006b), and as a military figure (2015), a prominent theme in Rohr Vio (2013); (2015). Hallett’s important studies illustrate modes of attack on female reputations. Hallett has foreshadowed a full biography of Fulvia. All of these recent studies contribute to a revised understanding of the demonising of Fulvia.

Octavia has largely escaped attention from biographers, although often included in general surveys. Her second marriage to Antony made her dynastically important. The careers and 22

coinage of both Fulvia and Octavia are carefully reviewed by Fischer (1999). Wood (1999) reviews the public image of Fulvia and Octavia, concentrating on iconography. Valentini

(2016) provides an account of Octavia’s prominence at court, covering her role in organising marriages, links with prominent intellectuals at court, and involvement in the Augustan building programme. A new approach has concentrated on the increasing role of women as patrons, and prioritises Octavia’s role: Woodhull (2003); (2004); (2012). Heslin (2015) has also underlined Octavia’s patronage of a library within the porticus Octaviae, revealing how little the earliest advances in female patronage have been appreciated hitherto. Octavia’s roles have previously been downplayed by placing emphasis on the agency of Augustus. Imperial patrons more generally are treated by Kleiner (1996). Bielman (2012) surveys female patronage and the transition from the Hellenistic monarchies to Roman rule.

The research: method, aims, and limitations

Chapter 2: Roman ideals and gender roles

This chapter aims to reveal Roman male expectations of Roman women and to isolate how these conditioned female lives in the period after 200 BC. By reviewing legal and literary evidence, this study charts continuities as well as attitudes undergoing modification or revision in the Late Republic.

Chapter 3: Legal issues

My review of legal reforms after 200 BC will focus on legislation aimed at regulating the conduct of Roman women, and on the initiators of the legislation, and their motives. The provisions transmitted by extant sources, some legal, some literary or historical, are analysed carefully to establish the aims and coverage of legislation. The restrictive developments are contrasted with the increased financial freedom of Roman women. Despite earlier relaxations

to tutela before the vast increase in elite wealth after the Punic wars, precise reasons for the decline of tutela are never discussed in ancient authorities, but social changes, including frequent male absences overseas, are considered.

The Lex Oppia of 215 BC regulated women’s expenditures on display as part of austerity measures under prevailing war conditions. This chapter includes review of elite female wealth and the passing down of items related to display and mourning, as revealed by

Polybius (31.26-28). Livy’s rationale for the legislation and his Augustan viewpoint is reviewed. Livy, the only source for the repeal of the legislation, is unsympathetic to the women’s complaints, and emphasises Cato’s insistence in 195 BC on retaining the measures to limit the growth in foreign influences on a militaristic society. More plausible motives are considered. The legislation of 215 BC was repealed in 195 BC, but female resistance and protests appear only to be part of the picture, since the repeal was given its imprimatur by the

Senate. Elite males did not necessarily share Cato’s views.

The Bacchanalian suppression of 186 BC is known from a contemporary south Italian inscription (CIL I2 581=ILS 18=EDCS 15100127), and a long treatment in Livy (39.8.-19).

The perspective of the inscription requires critical analysis; it does not single out women, but prescribes a general ban on Bacchanalia with strictly limited exceptions, in contrast to Livy who provides a dramatic setting for the same events. Livy’s hostility to the cult is discussed, as well as its possible impact on his testimony. His essential reliability is important to establish since he alone covers recent changes to the hierarchy and frequency of meetings within the cult. Livy believed the cult encouraged effeminacy in young males, and disapproved of the prominent role of women in reshaping the cult. The inscriptional evidence reveals the activities banned, and much of the emphasis concentrates on the revised structure 24

of the cult, and the involvement of males in the cult. This seems to link up with the evidence in Livy. Discussion focuses on why the authorities clamped down on the cult, and why problems arose initially.

As well as his intervention at the time of the repeal of the Lex Oppia (195 BC), Cato was an influence on the Lex Voconia of 169 BC. The earliest discussion of this legislation appears in

Cicero, who specifies that elite women were prevented from inheriting more than 100,000 HS under a will, or a legacy greater than the share obtained by the heir or heirs (70 BC: Verr.

2.1.106-108; Gaius Inst. 2.226). The legislation appears anomalous since it could be evaded by intestacy, or conveyance to a woman by a trust. Recent legal discussions are summarised, and their implications explored. The attitudes of Cato and others supporting the law are central, as is the extent to which this legislation impeded succession patterns for elite women.

The Augustan marital legislation applied to both men and women. The ancient testimonies and recent interpretations are reviewed. It clamped down on individuals leaving estates outside the family group, and advantaged those within prescribed age limits who married and generated sufficient children. The motive for the legislation and its relationship to the late

Republican world affects this study. The legislation appears to supersede the Lex Voconia, although this is disputed.32 The Lex Iulia de Adulteriis Coercendis of 18 BC moved adultery from the private to the public sphere.

Chapters 4 -9

Chapters 4-9 treat case studies involving biographical material. Biography as

32 McGinn (1998a) 72-78.

a genre is often today criticised for its lack of a detailed critical framework.

The strategy here is to extract episodes from individual female lives to illustrate the growth in visibility and power of elite women within the selected timescale. The lives of the limited number of candidates sufficiently prominent in surviving sources to merit inclusion still suffer from significant gaps and uncertainties. Roman women appear infrequently in extant sources, but several individual biographies can be reconstructed, however inadequately, and can be interrogated to understand the factors influencing their main contours, and to explicate how individual visibility has been enhanced. Significant subjects and available evidence determine the choices.

Exhaustive biographies have not been attempted. The aim is to illustrate episodes demonstrating reactions to social, political, and legislative change, and in particular to highlight conspicuous public roles and active involvement in informal political processes. Detailed treatment is devoted to the lives of

Antony’s wives, Fulvia and Octavia, especially under the pressures exerted by the triumviral period and civil war. Hazards inherent in the evidence include the idealisation of Cornelia and Octavia, and attacks on Clodia and

Fulvia. Great care is needed to understand how and why evidence has survived. The case studies involve navigating the accounts of the elusive elite women, employing tendentious accounts generated by Roman males; throughout, the male responses to change demonstrate the impact of patriarchy.

Individuals respond to social and political change differently and their lives also have various and different shapes. There is no expectation of a uniform and gradual expansion of female 26

roles over a period of about two hundred years. In general, the idea of evolving emancipation has been questioned, but we can chart a limited number of responses to particular social pressures.33 The chosen lives appear in the ancient authorities because of interactions with major political players in a period of conflict and political change, and the corresponding male careers are similarly diverse. The commentators – even when writing later than the events discussed – are interested parties with a traditional Roman view of the limits of propriety. Investigation of the elite group offers potential to compare and contrast individual experience.

The lives of the selected Roman women are tested against their adherence to traditional roles, more controversial roles, and finally roles considered transgressive by Roman male observers. Because of the complexity of the period, these women have never been considered as a group and subjected to this type of detailed analysis. Not all of the sub- categories can be charted in each case. Moreover, the traditional, controversial, and transgressive categories were subject to redefinition over the selected timescale.

A TRADITIONAL AREAS OF INFLUENCE:

This thesis will outline traditional roles for Roman women, and chart changes in emphasis in individual cases, some induced by increases in wealth brought on by the increased Roman role in the governance of the Mediterranean, others by civil war and other social pressures.

1. Production of heirs, nurturing roles, role of custos, and publicly displayed

loyalty to spouse and family (fides)

33 McGinn (1998a) 6.

Within this thesis, idealisation of the role of the matrona is explored concentrating on motherhood and nurture The apparently private world of reproduction had important repercussions for both husband and wife within the public life of elite families. Children had long been used at Rome as political currency to secure political alliances. Male children were particularly valued because of their potential to supply dynastic continuity in a system dominated by agnatic descent, but women too were set up with marriages designed to broker settlements between conflicting male interests.34 During the period under review, nurturing obligations must have been reduced by the presence of slaves in the Roman household, particularly as wet-nurses.35

This thesis will examine the role of the Roman matrona as custos. Her oversight of the domus formed part of her role in the private domain under the traditional assignment of tasks within the household.36 This included management of slaves and other aspects of domestic organisation. Matronae were in theoretical charge of all children within the household, including the management of slave children.37 In general, few details of this domestic structure have survived.

2. Education

Some of the case studies provide information about the maternal role in the education of children, but details are sparse. Cornelia and Octavia provide the fullest evidence. Here as with other categories, changes of emphasis over time are central.

34 Dixon (1985c).

35 Bradley (1986); Joshel (1986); Dixon (1988) 141-167.

36 Compare Xenophon Oeonomicus VII-X: Pomeroy (1984) 35-39.

37 Pearce (1974). 28

3. Betrothal and marriage of offspring

The limited evidence on this topic is outlined. The case of Cornelia’s mother, Aemilia, demonstrates that women were usually consulted in relation to organising the betrothal and marriage of their children (Livy 38.57.2-8; Val. Max. 4.2.3; Plut. TG 4; Aul. Gell. NA 12.8.1-

4). 38 However, relatively little evidence on the subject has survived, and discussion in this study has been limited by the nature of the available evidence on the biographical subjects.

4. Interaction with other wives and the use of intermediaries

The earliest known politicised example is the meeting between Aebutia, aunt of P. Aebutius, and Sulpicia, mother-in-law of the consul Postumius, concerning the Bacchanalian episode

(186 BC). Postumius set this up, choosing to involve both women indirectly in politics to obtain intelligence before proceeding further (Livy 39.11). This convenient informal process made it commonplace.

Political interactions involving women as intermediaries seem to have occurred with increasing frequency in the late Republic and can be charted in the case of all the elite women treated in detail here. Some of these interactions involved greater levels of controversy and clearly could not be counted within the range of traditional roles.

5. Public roles

Some public roles were considered acceptable, in particular:

a. Religious festivals, attested for Cornelia’s mother, Aemilia, and for Terentia.

38 On betrothal: Treggiari (1984); (1991) chapters 3 and 4.

b. All-female activities such as membership of the ordo matronarum.

c. Court appearances – limited roles were approved.

d. Petitioning, potentially an area of controversy.

e. Emerging patronal roles.39

B CONTROVERSIAL ROLES

Controversial roles could also be redefined over time, or even for a particular context. Protest was not in every case uniformly condemned. There are signs of male support for protests at the time of the repeal of the Lex Oppia, and conditions at the time of the triumvirate also show that women were able to establish their ground. Women could also appear as authorised agents of men in diplomatic roles, although some interventions might be disputable.

Lobbying could in certain cases be regarded as controversial if not transgressive. Travel was uncommon for elite women before the age of Sulla, and was still being debated in the age of

Tiberius and later, but was nevertheless opening up in the late Republic.

1. Protest and appeal.

Attitudes to protest are examined. The mass female protests at the time of the repeal of the

Lex Oppia in 195 BC imply concerted action and public support for their cause. The successful protests met with hostility from the Augustan Livy (Livy 34.1). Hortensia successfully and publicly attacked the levy on the wealthiest Roman women in 43 BC. Such a public act of voicing opinion and influencing policy was a product of the triumviral period, and this did Hortensia’s reputation no harm.40 Hortensia’s actions seem comparable to the lobbying engaged in by the Lex Oppia activists. Women also raised appeals on behalf of

39 Bielman (2012); Cooley (2013) on the development of patronal roles outside Rome.

40 Cluett suggests that the triumviral period led to the collapse of the barriers between public and private interventions, and drove women into the areas of public utterance and diplomacy: (1998) 71.

proscribed relatives, as in the cases of ‘Turia’ and Julia. ‘Turia’ obtained an edict from

Octavian, and presented it at the tribunal of Lepidus where she was mistreated (LT 2.11-18), while Julia made an appeal to her son, Antony, on behalf of her brother, Lucius (App. BC

4.37; Dio 47.8.5).

2. Diplomacy.

Cluett outlines five episodes involving very public female diplomacy in the triumviral period:

1. Sextus Pompey used Antony’s mother Julia to try to arrange an alliance with

Antony (40 BC)(Dio 48.15.2; 16.2).

2. Octavian used Sextus’ own mother Mucia to reach agreement with Sextus (40

BC)(App. BC 5.52; Dio 48.16.2-3; 48.27.4).

3. Julia’s mediation between Antony and Octavian as the Treaty of Brundisium

approached, late in 40 BC – said to be at Octavian’s request (App. BC 5.60-63).

4. Treaty of Misenum in 39 BC, when Julia and Mucia were encouraging Antony,

Octavian, and Sextus to sign the treaty (App. BC 5.69; 5.72).

5. Octavia’s intervention in 37 BC at Tarentum. Octavia’s role at Tarentum was

initiated by men. Her mixed motivations can be inferred from Appian and Plutarch

(App. BC 5.94; Plut. Ant. 35).

3. Providing support for an absent husband

This potentially transgressive role demonstrated the positive virtue of fides. Cases require individual review.

4. Travels and visibility

The developing role of travel in elite lives is surveyed. Senatorial women began to travel after the Punic wars, and this became commonplace at the end of the Republic.41 Sulla took his wife to Athens and protected her standing. Some couples chose a more traditional approach, but Antony’s wives, Fulvia and Octavia, accompanied him to the provinces, and this relaxation of tradition continued under the Empire.

C TRANSGRESSIVE/CRITICISED ROLES

Behaviours considered transgressive include any suggestion of sexual irregularity or distorted social role. Such accusations could be employed against a Roman matrona in a law court when the main aim was to discredit her as witness. Equally damaging was the claim that a woman had usurped male roles, including both military and political roles, as the example of

Fulvia shows. Not all transgressive roles prompted male intervention. Female court appearances were minimised, advocacy was banned, and women appearing on their own account raised controversy. Some of the other behaviours outlined above could under certain circumstances be construed as transgressive.

1. Infamia – adultery and prostitution

Accusations of sexual misdemeanours were not normally raised against an elite Roman matrona. However, hostile rhetorical claims against various women are raised in the course of this study. At the end of the period, elite women were faced with the confronting Lex Iulia de Adulteriis Coercendis (18 BC). Both parties were punished, but women were subjected to humiliating equation with prostitutes. Sexual purity and shame played a large role within

Roman definition of gender roles.

2. Exercise of political or military power: presence at military meetings

41 Foubert (2016).

Certain examples are central to discussion. Female political power is openly displayed in the letters of Cicero, in the case of Servilia, and Fulvia is also accused of military involvement in the Perusine campaign during 41-40 BC.

3. Appearances in court under controversial or politicised circumstances

Elite court appearances are infrequently recorded. After the death of Clodius in 52 BC, in

April, Fulvia appeared with her mother at the trial of Milo for his murder. Controversy arose from her encouragement of the Clodiani before the trial and through her influence on its outcome through her visible distress.

None of the women to whom these tests are to be applied cover all of the areas set out above, and in most cases the nature of the source material dictates the results. The subjects cover both idealised women and women under attack. This series of tests is designed to investigate the limits of participation set for Roman elite women by Roman men. Each category is in itself flexible since even traditional areas of influence underwent transformation over the two hundred year period surveyed. What was controversial in 200 BC might be transformed by social changes discussed in the preliminary chapters, and even transgressive acts could be judged more favourably under particular circumstances.

My study provides background to the social and legal conditions confronting elite Roman women after the 2nd Punic war, and a critical analysis of the impact on key individuals.

Attention focuses on changing ideals of behaviour and legal reforms affecting female lives. Altered limits to the operation of the public/private divide are significant, as well as why such changes occurred, and how they were utilised by Roman women and perceived by Roman males in the absence of the female voice. The biographies document female

responses to male-imposed ideals, and chart changes to the status of Roman women through investigation of activities considered traditional, controversial or transgressive.

The biographies are treated in two groups to allow comparison of as many aspects of each life as possible. The first deals with late Republican women, the second with lives conducted in the triumviral period, the civil war, and its aftermath.

Chapter 2: Roman ideals and gender roles This chapter aims to review what Roman men expected of Roman women, and to describe how this expectation conditioned their lives in the period from 200 BC to the early empire.

Legal and literary evidence provides access to aspects of life which represented continuities as well as transformative developments in the late Republic.

The issue most relevant to the women discussed in the main part of this thesis is the operation of the public/private divide, and the scope of changes to its operation. Growth in the public dimension of private space is central to this divide, and the individual biographies later reveal modes of operation and engagement adopted by elite women and encouraged by elite males.

To facilitate analysis, both ancient and modern views of how this divide operated are surveyed. The discussion of modern theoretical debates aims to clarify understanding of how the divide operated at Rome.

While the visibility of certain women increased, there were also continuities. Vestals were important role models for Roman matronae, and no doubt had considerable influence on the conduct of elite female lives, despite their discreet and public function as protectors of the state (Cic. Leg. 2.29). For example, in the late Republic, Vestals were still punished after events interpreted as prodigies, considered evidence that they had broken their vow of chastity. For ordinary citizen women, the promulgation of ideologically charged legends reinforced ideals of purity and chastity, and high prestige was accorded to univirae.1

Compliance with expectations of behaviour could be marked by spinning and weaving, crafts reinvigorated by Augustus for political reasons. Dress was also important, and wearing the stola indicated compliance – an emblem of quietism.2 Appropriate dress confirmed

1 Foubert (2016) 462.

2 Bell (2008) 18.

trustworthiness and sexual reliability, and behaviour at mealtimes, including sobriety, was also closely monitored. There are, however, many signs of rebellion. Dress was undergoing considerable reform in the late Republic, not just female dress. A range of early imperial sources including Valerius Maximus, Pliny, and Suetonius provide discussions of approved behaviour, including spinning and weaving, dress, and other aspects of social reliability.3

Cornelia and Octavia are both presented as model matronae, while the sexuality of Clodia,

Servilia and Fulvia meets with hostile comment, different in quality with each subject. These emphases on sexual conduct demonstrate the centrality of sexual identity to the image of

Roman women.

Restrictions on public appearances on the stage, in the courts, or in the provinces, are considered. Evidence is piecemeal, and the picture has to be constructed from a range of later sources. These restrictions all relate to areas felt to create too public a role for Roman women, especially elite women, and this is particularly evident in Cicero’s handling of

Clodia in the Pro Caelio. Inappropriate appearances in court by Roman women gave rise to concern over unseemly behaviour, and the shaming of male relatives. Stage appearances by elite women are, however, not recorded, but limitations on other citizen women are relevant to the atmosphere in the late Republic. Elite women first accompany husbands to the provinces late in the Republic, but were earlier already celebrated by provincials. Both Fulvia and Octavia accompanied Antony to the provinces, and the imperial family continued the

3 Valerius shows particularly stringent attitudes towards compliance with male behavioural expectations regarding sexual purity. His picture of norms appears distorted, and to reflect nostalgia for an idealised past.

trend – followed by the rest of the elite after regulatory intervention in the reign of Tiberius, which normalised the idea of elite couples supporting each other on a larger stage. 4

Commemoration is an important area where women in the late Republic gained recognition for their political importance. By the time of Augustus, Octavia had a funus publicum and was celebrated by a laudatio delivered by Augustus himself, and a further speech delivered by Drusus from the rostra (Dio 54.35.4-5: dated 11 BC). Cicero alludes to the earliest known female laudatio for Popillia in 102 BC (De Oratore 2.44). The laudatio is traced through the first century BC to explain how female relatives of political players gained exposure in this genre, and its impact on their lives. Here again the sources have to be assembled critically to present a composite picture.

Gender roles and the public/private divide

Roman women were classified as citizens, despite exclusion from many of the privileges and responsibilities of citizenship.5 Questions of sexual honour and status differentiation were influential in distinguishing gender roles.6 A model of quietism was encouraged for the matrona, and may be implicit in her restricted access to Roman praenomina – women were not to be talked about.7 Women were freely assigned private concerns related to nurture and family, but could never attend or participate in the activities of the Republican Senate.

Nevertheless, in the late Republic, women were active at home and elsewhere behind the

4 For the impact: Foubert (2016) 465-471.

5 Gardner (1993) 4; 85-109.

6 McGinn (1998a) 22-23.

7 Kajanto (1972); Kajava (1994); Salway (1994) 125-126; McDonnell (2006) 175-176; Rohr Vio (2013) 1-2; 15-

16.

scenes.8 Views about women engaging in politics are unlikely to have been static, although the growth in roles is hard to document.9 Some evidence for advances can be charted, and reveals that not all women were constrained by established male imperatives.

As the strictures of tutela gradually broke down, women’s profiles rose.10 Issues about the propriety of a public role continued to be raised, and a nurturing role for exemplary women was still prioritised in the first century AD. Despite this, private spaces became increasingly part of political life, and women found opportunities to exploit new and gendered modes of participation in a revised hierarchy.11 Increased wealth and the growing slave presence eased domestic responsibilities, and expanded opportunities for women to support their husbands in social and political activities. Husbands absent on duties abroad sometimes needed and encouraged this engagement. Significant social changes were happening or starting to happen within the functioning of the public/private divide.12

The Romans used models from the past to reinforce current societal norms. Assmann has explored how sophisticated societies utilise the past to create their own memory culture, an important feature of which is the active choice of elements from the past to obliterate or preserve.13 The idealised past of early Rome and its utilisation in the Augustan era can be tested against this model. Examples such as Lucretia and Verginia celebrated Roman behavioural ideals and gave them a lineage. Bell emphasises that the Augustan political

8 Participation in public space explored by Russell (2016).

9 Foubert (2016) 463.

10 Ch. 3.

11 Potter (2011) explores the evolution of these domestic environments.

12 Compare Russell (2016) x-xi.

13 Assmann (2011) 17-20: he defines memory culture as the selection of ideals from the past which differentiate it from the contemporary context.

arrangements encompassed revised emphases in the construction of the past.14 These legends supported new models of propriety promoted by the Augustan moral reforms. Julia’s case is one of few which may suggest the response of elite women (Macrob. Sat. 2.5.3; 5).15

Our earliest Roman sources display considerable contempt for the political capacity of women, reflecting the male-driven constitutional model in Rome, which excluded women from direct participation in public life. The reaction was closely related to the model of inactivity harnessed to support the reputation and respectability of Roman women. This approach can also be found in the Tacitus Dialogus, written in about AD 98.16

Polybius, writing about Teuta, an Illyrian queen, who continued her deceased husband’s expansionist aims in 230 BC reports that his Roman source scorned Teuta’s feminine leadership; she gloated over short term success, and failed to appreciate strategic situations

(Polyb. 2.4.8; cf. Dio 12 fr. 49).17 These and other disparaging misogynistic comments are a feature of Roman sources, as well as comments directed against foreign rulers.

Tacitus could still put a speech with an ostensible date of AD 75 into the mouth of a male interlocutor, praising an antique model of motherhood represented by Cornelia, Aurelia, and

Atia, the mothers of the Gracchi, Caesar, and Octavian respectively. Their model of domestic propriety was strict, and did not include entrusting children to nurses. Moreover, the children of these well-ordered households customarily had a senior kinswoman in charge of them,

14 Bell (2008) 11.

15 Richlin (2014a) 81-109.

16 Date and setting of the Dialogus: Syme (1958) 104-111. Recently: Girotti (2016) 339-342.

17 Hillard (1992) 38. Walbank thinks a Greek source is important for Polybius here because of certain political statements, but Fabius Pictor (writing in Greek) has also been associated with the Illyrian conflict: Walbank

(1957) 153-154.

correcting behaviour and speech (Dial. 28).18 This model demeans contact with slaves, and insists on direct involvement of the late Republican matrona in the nurture and regulation of future citizen males, supported by an earlier generation of yet more exemplary kinsfolk.

Tacitus foregrounds these particular mothers as ideal matronae, but the speaker implies that in his context the model itself is under serious threat, as customary roles are usurped by lower status substitutes.

Discussions of the public/private dichotomy, and the relationship of these concepts to gender, warn of traps in the transfer of modern debates to ancient contexts.19 Controversy has arisen over the contemporary definition of the public and private spheres, and the influence of eighteenth and nineteenth century thinking on current understanding.20 The public/private divide has been construed as one of the patriarchal mechanisms that devalued the contributions of women, by assigning them to the private sphere. This view underestimates the permeability of the borders of both categories. The participation of both genders in the artificially separated categories is now acknowledged.21 Difficulty lies in assessing the extent to which Roman women operated in a private sphere (domus), as compared with men who operated in public (forum or res publica), although women were clearly excluded from a great deal in public life.22 The domestic domain encompassed certain political functions.23

Terminology can be clarified: the adjective publicus can be construed as involving a public

18 Hallett (1984) 7.

19 On controversy over the distinction: Helly and Reverby (1992); Weintraub (1997); Landes (1998) 135-163.

20 Heavily influenced by theoretical models proposed by Arendt (1958) and Habermas (1989) 5-26: Milnor

(2005) 17; Winterling (2009) 58-76.

21 Siltanen and Stanworth (1984) 185-208; cf. Foxhall (2013) 115; Russell (2016) x.

22 Gardner (1993) 4 for some of the limits of participation. For the forum: Boatwright (2011) 108-110.

23 Russell (2016) 60-61.

career, but also has wider resonances relating to something in the popular domain, or relating to the community or state. The term privatus refers not merely to the domestic context, but often concerns males who are not conducting a political career.24

The problem is highlighted in a discussion of gendered spaces within the Roman house, where Vitruvius indicates that parts of an elite dwelling, including vestibules, courtyards, and peristyles, were accessible even to uninvited guests. Other parts were specifically restricted to family members, including cubicula, triclinia, and baths, and only accessible to invited guests of either gender (Vitr. De Arch. 6.5.1).25 The layers of accessibility within a Roman house partly related to privacy and gender distinctions within the household, but Roman women did not live in cloistered seclusion, and participated in many of the activities of the household.

The timetable within the Roman household is also relevant to understanding when, how, and who employed individual parts of the house, and the extent to which they claimed exclusive proprietorial rights.26 Early in the day clients and other visitors came to visit (the salutatio), but details of the balance between public and private business are sparse.27 The house was a symbol of family prestige, reflecting the status of the owner, and was an adjunct to a male political career based in the forum. Some private areas were more grandly decorated, demonstrating the desire to impress selected guests granted access to more restricted areas.28

The valuable older anthropological discussion of Friedl provides comparative material, which highlights that the significant public face of family presented by males can conceal the

24 Habermas (1989) 6; Riggsby (1997) 48; Milnor (2005) 16-21; Hemelrijk (2015) 9-10; Russell (2016) 25-42.

25 Riggsby (1997) 49; Milnor (2005) 103-115; Winterling (2009) 58-59; Russell (2016) 13-21.

26 On the instability of Roman terminology: Russell (2016) 2.

27 George (1997) 303-305. On theoretical problems in identifying the gendered use of space at Pompeii: Allison

(2007) 343-350; Foxhall (2013) 123-124.

28 Wallace-Hadrill (1994) 17-37.

realities of power behind the scenes. In her examination of the modern Greek village of

Vasilika emphasises that men performed the public managerial roles, talked to government officials, and gained esteem from public roles, but, even in relatively humble families, the women derived power from dowry properties, and participated actively in private discussions over their use. Their considerable influence was not visible in public. Friedl concludes that the power dynamics within this complex agrarian based economy cannot be understood purely by looking at male actors.29 The conclusion can be suggestive for the Roman situation, which excluded direct political access. Roman elite women had considerable dowries, and inherited networks, and these generated power behind the scenes, influencing their husbands and other political players. Roman women had the potential to use males in their circle as proxies.

In 1974, Rosaldo formulated some meaningful attributes of the public/private dichotomy. She described the paradigm as one relating ‘recurrent aspects of psychology and cultural and social organisation to an opposition between the ‘domestic’ orientation of women and the extradomestic or ‘public’ ties, that, in most societies, are primarily available to men’.30 She maintained that societies which make a weak differentiation between the public and domestic spheres provide women with the highest status. Their status is most damaged when women are isolated from one another and placed under a single man’s authority within the home.

Roman society (despite the patriarchal nature of patria potestas) seems not to fall into this last category.31 Evidence shows that women had independent lives, made excursions to

29 Friedl (1967) 97-108 at 105-106.

30 Rosaldo (1974) 17-43.

31 Hallett (1984) 5-34, demolishing Bachofen’s idea that powerful Roman women evolved from an earlier stage of matriarchy; McGinn (1998a) 16, on misogyny and patriarchy at Rome.

religious functions and public entertainments, travelled independently, and socialised extensively with women of their own caste.32

Rosaldo’s later formulation was that male dominance in human societies was widespread, but not uniform. Women usually have a degree of power and influence in political and economic life, are autonomous in their pursuits, and rarely experience male efforts at control as a constraint.33 Rosaldo notes that communities which place a high emphasis on reproduction and mothering tend to exclude women from subsistence and defence. Biological determinism, based on reproductive roles, and the opposition between domestic and public roles are described as intelligible, but not necessary, consequences.34 Some authorities have thought that a focus on women raising children integrates girls into the domestic world early in life through their ties with female kin. Male children are given fewer responsibilities and can consequently make broader ‘public’ ties.35 This formulation has limitations, but Roman males were educated differently from the majority of the girls. Elite Roman women who survived the hazards of childbirth often had a long life beyond the childhood of their offspring.

Examples such as Cornelia, the mother of the Gracchi, show that the most eminent acquired sophisticated education, equipping them for roles beyond the domestic context.36 Key examples in this study show how they might have operated behind the scenes, arranging marriages, advising others on suitable partners, and facilitating political processes. Since

Rome was a slave-owning society, subsistence was a minor issue for elite Roman women, who delegated the provisioning of the home.

32 For the range of activity: Hemelrijk (2015) 1; 11.

33 Rosaldo (1980) 394.

34 Rosaldo (1974) 24.

35 Chodrow (1974) 43-67.

36 Rawson (2003) 197-209.

The public/private divide can still assist in understanding the changes in Roman society in the late Republic.37 Hillard remarks that an important feature of the distinction was its abiding influence on the Roman mind.38 Mental maps may be crucial to understanding the functioning of Roman society. Roman males in the late republic controlled areas of public life that were closed to Roman women. Hemelrijk emphasises that considerations of propriety regulated the contrast between the forum as the male domain, and the domus as the area most closely associated with women, the family, and domesticity.39 Cicero apparently discussed in his De Re Publica (with notable hostility) the propriety of women contributing directly to public life (cited by Lactantius Epitome 33 (38) 1-5). Women were legally excluded from major civil roles in public life, which were largely conducted in the forum (D. 50.17.2

[Ulpian]).40 Furthermore, they were not allowed in the forum on days set aside for assemblies

(Aul. Gell. NA 5.19.10: dies comitiales).41

At the elite level in Roman society, the public domain extended into the domestic context even before imperial times, as can be demonstrated from Cicero’s letters.42 Nevertheless, gendered roles applied to the domestic context, and elite women were not expected to operate in the same way as the males in that context.43 Women could engage in political lobbying in their own homes, but unwritten protocols regulated what could and could not be negotiated.

37 Discussed by Russell (2016) 8-12.

38 Hillard (1992) 41.

39 Hillard (1989) 165; Hemelrijk (2015) 10.

40 Ulpian classes women together with immature males: Hallett (1984) 8.

41 Hillard (1992) 38.

42 Riggsby (1997); George (1997) 300-303; Foxhall (2013) 121.

43 Also emphasised by Harris (1990) 260, discussing the political role of upper class women in early Tudor

England. On Rome: Wallace-Hadrill (1996) 104-112.

Individuals naturally could infringe those protocols. Roman women of rank were far from irrelevant to the life of the forum, and in the domestic context had the capacity to contribute, in a different mode from their husbands. Direct participation in public discussions and assemblies in the Roman forum was considered transgressive (Val. Max. 3.8.6).44 Roman women could legitimately and without censure appear in the forum to defend family interests in the courts, or deal directly with political figures. The scope of court appearances was restricted by legislation to prevent appearance on behalf of others.

Women of status did not have onerous menial domestic responsibilities, although their role as custos entailed overseeing the management of the house.45 A substructure, under their theoretical control, operated by slaves, freedmen, and freedwomen, lessened the burden. Elite women were not confined to a secluded and private life, removed from the public gaze. They received visitors and clients, in the absence of their husbands, and shared in social events when they were present. Widowed or divorced women entertained guests of appropriate status, thus exhibiting their standing in the community.46 Houses represented such important symbols of status, wealth, and power for the elite that there was nowhere to hide; despite the division of the house into public and private areas, all residents were constantly on show.47

Elite women were expected to maintain their exemplary role.48

44 Boatwright (2011) 119.

45 Pearce (1974) 16-33.

46 Hemelrijk (2015) 7-8, who notes the relevance of Bourdieu’s notions of economic, social, and cultural capital:

Bourdieu (1997) 46-58.

47 Thébert (1987) 313-409; Edwards (1993) 150-160.

48 Hemelrijk cites Suet. Aug. 64.2, Augustus’ warning to Julia and her daughter that they should not do or say anything which could not be published in the acta diurna: Hemelrijk (2015) 9. Wardle (2014) 414 doubts that

Suetonius intends the acta diurna.

Columella, writing under Nero, comments on changes that had occurred in the recent past

(Columella RR 12 praef. 1-8).49 He praises a Latin translation of Xenophon’s Oeconomicus by Cicero, an admirer of Xenophon’s work and its emphases, and an advocate of separate gender roles, with an emphasis on an indoors/outdoors division of labour. Columella adds his own views at the end of the passage:

RR 12 praef. 7-8: For both amongst the Greeks and then among the Romans until the

period of our fathers, domestic tasks were as a rule for matronae, and patresfamiliae

retreated to the family hearth to rest from forensic exertions, putting aside all anxiety.

There was extreme respect for them, combined with unity and attentiveness. So the

most beautiful woman was afire with competition, eager to make her husband’s

actions greater through her support. Nothing in the house was seen as separate, there

was nothing which either husband or wife claimed as legally theirs, but both acted

together in harmony, so that the purposeful activity of the matrona would balance his

public business. Thus neither the vilicus nor the vilica had a great task, since their

masters daily supervised and executed their own affairs.50

49 Treggiari (1998) 1-23 on Cicero’s interpretation of this division.

50 My translation. Text of Columella RR 12 praef. 7-8: nam et apud Graecos, et mox apud Romanos usque in patrum nostrum memoriam fere domesticus labor matronalis fuit, tamquam ad requiem forensium exercitationum omni cura deposita patribusfamilias intra domesticos penates se recipientibus. Erat enim summa reverentia cum concordia et diligentia mixta, flagrabatque mulier pulcherrima aemulatione, studens negotia viri cura sua maiora atque meliora reddere. Nihil conspiciebatur in domo dividuum, nihl quod aut maritus aut femina proprium esse iuris sui diceret: sed in commune conspirabatur ab utroque, ut cum forensibus negotiis, matronalis industria rationem parem faceret. Itaque nec vilici quidem aut vilicae magna erat opera, cum ipsi domini quotidie negotia sua reviserent atque administrarent.

Here Columella insists on the idea that Roman couples had previously operated under a form of negotiated equality. There follows Columella’s criticism of the current status quo:

RR 12 praef. 9-10: Now, however, when most women waste away in luxury and sloth,

so that they do not even stoop to undertake supervision of wool-making, but despise

homemade clothing, and take particular pleasure in misguided covetousness, items

purchased at great expense, and almost for an entire census: it is no wonder that these

same women are oppressed by the supervision of a country estate and agricultural

equipment, and consider a few days lingering in a villa a most sordid business…51

Columella, a native of Gades, wrote his major work on agriculture in Rome, after serving as military tribune in Syria in the reign of Tiberius (RR 2.10.18; ILS 2923 [Tarentum]).

Columella’s comments on luxury, extravagance, and declining standards follow other Roman sources, while his attitudes to wool-working provide an interesting supplement to comments in Suetonius Augustus (64.2; 73). The author’s view of moral decline encompasses disapproval of shifting gender roles in the early empire, away from an idealised lost world of rural certainty and relaxation away from the pressures of public life, involving cooperation between husband and wife, to the contemporary scene, where women led separate urbanised lives, obsessed with social context, material comfort, and place, no longer readily intersecting with their husbands’ lives.

The Vestals as ideal, and their sexual status

51 My translation. Text of RR 12 praef. 9-10: nunc vero cum pleraeque sic luxu et inertia diffluent, ut ne lanificii quidem curam suscipere dignetur, sed domi confectae vestes fastidio sint, perversaque cupidine maxime placeant, quae grandi pecunia et totis paene censibus redimuntur: nihl mirum est, easdem ruris et instrumentorum agrestium cura gravari, sordidissimumque negotium ducere paucorum dierum in villa moram.

The role of the Vestals as behavioural models and what the cult reveals about Roman attitudes to gender is central. Their public role in the forum had largely religious importance, but intersected with politics because of their connection with the welfare of the state. Female deities other than Vesta had shrines within the Forum, shared by both male and female worshippers.52 Recent discussion has focused on the precise significance of the virginity of the Vestals.53 Plutarch raises virginity as a reflection of the purity of the sacred fire, requiring undefiled bodies to oversee it, or alternatively, virginity as a symbol of sterility, marking the quality of fire (Plut. Numa 9.5). Their purificatory role is currently preferred, rather than connection with fertility. Their continued virginity ensured the wellbeing of the Roman state; punishment of Vestals as scapegoats could ward off danger.54 The relatively late date of the majority of the sources (early imperial), and the lack of any comprehensive ancient account of Roman religion and its associated rituals impede discussion.55 Significant archaeological remains of the atrium and aedes Vestae assist the picture.56 The portrait statues of Vestals and imperial women in the Atrium Vestae do survive from the late third to fourth century AD, and epitomise the conditions of that later world.57

Six Vestals between the ages of six and ten were selected and enrolled for thirty years.

Virginity differentiated Vestals from married citizen women, but their situation reflects the uncompromising standards expected from Roman women. This ancient cult, attributed to

Numa, had a public function based at Rome, supervised by the Pontifex Maximus. The

52 Schulz (2006) 3-6; Boatwright (2011) 111.

53 Wildfang (2003); (2006); Parker (2004).

54 Parker (2004) 563.

55 Wildfang (2006) 1-5.

56 Van Deman (1909) 1-20; Scott (2009); Russell (2016) 2-6.

57 Boatwright (2011) 133. There are however Augustan representation of Vestals on the Ara Pacis.

Vestals, unlike citizen women, had public lives serving the Roman people, residing in the aedes Vestae, tending the sacred fire, maintaining their virginity, and guarding the shrine

(Plut. Numa 9.5). Vesta’s hearth had symbolic value, representing and unifying the city (Cic.

Leg. 2.20). The Vestals protected a symbolic store (penus), as well as the Palladium, the token of the safety of Rome (Festus 296L: pignus imperii Romani), in legend brought to Italy from Troy by Aeneas. Vestal inviolability was a metaphor for the inviolability of the city.58

Other duties included participation in state rites involving women, such as the Bona Dea ceremonies. Cicero associates the symbolic purity of fire with Vestal chastity, which ensured the pax deorum (Leg. 2.29).59 Failure of the fire indicated the displeasure of the gods

(prodigia), just as military defeats could be held to signify an impure Vestal, a direct danger to the state.60 Violation was not tested by physical examination, but a priestess convicted on a charge of incestum before the pontifical college was buried alive in a chamber near the

Colline gate with rations which ensured her inevitable death – a form of trial by ordeal (Plut.

Numa 10).61 After Cannae, two Vestals, Opimia and Floronia, were convicted after their actions were deemed portents of Cannae. Opimia was buried alive, while Floronia committed suicide and her adulterer was flogged to death (Livy 22.57.2-3). Extreme punishment continued to this late date and beyond (216 BC).62

The virginity of the Vestals and the harsh treatment for alleged lapses of pudicitia provided a threatening model for Roman matronae, but had particular importance because Vestals

58 The Vestals held wills, state documents, and the crucial Palladium: Parker (2004) 567-568.

59 Wildfang (2006) 7-8.

60 Parker (2004) 504.

61 Staples (1998) 131-132.

62 Bauman (1992) 23-24; Schulz (2012) 122-135.

symbolically embodied the city and its citizens.63 On enrolment, they had to be physically perfect, with living citizen parents, and subject to patria potestas. Neither parent could be of base origin or divorced, reinforcing their status as model Roman citizens. Once assigned to the pontiffs, they passed out of paternal control, avoiding emancipation or capitis deminutio, and acquired the right to make a will (Aul. Gell. NA 1.12.1-19). The Pontifex Maximus could discipline a Vestal, but he did not have patria potestas over her.64 A Vestal was thus theoretically more independent than a son under patria potestas.65 They were set apart from other citizen women through their legal privileges, including early release from patria potestas.66 After thirty years, Vestals had the option of leaving the priesthood (Dion. Hal.

Ant. 1.76.3; 2.67.2).

The cult of Vesta did not sponsor major preoccupations approved for Roman women: weaving, marriage, and child-bearing.67 Vestals partially resemble other Roman women, adopting certain features of daughters or wives. Their dress in the stola copied the latter, whereas their hairstyle (sex crines) was that of a bride, and associated with virginity.68 In reality, they fell outside both categories.69 Their role protecting the Roman state separated them from family concerns, and a Vestal was identified with the state, which became her legal heir in cases of intestacy.70 She in no sense belonged to her father. Despite fractured

63 Beard (1980) 15-16; Parker (2004) 566-567.

64 Parker (2004) 573.

65 Gender categories are discussed in Beard (1980) and revised in Beard (1995).

66 Staples (1998) 129-130.

67 Wildfang (2006) 7.

68 Festus p. 55L; Beard (1980) 16; Staples (1998) 146; Wildfang (2006) 11.

69 Beard (1980) 13-15; (1995) 167; Parker (2004) 565.

70 Staples (1998) 143.

legal ties, a Vestal could still feel the pull of family loyalties. Augustus gave Vestals further legal protection by granting them the ius trium liberorum when their inheritance rights were altered by his legislation regarding marriage and children (Dio 56.10.2). Vestals were never cloistered, but were expected to be treated with respect, a potential issue when they attended dinner parties (Dio 47.19.4). Distinctive dress differentiated them from other citizen women, and on the street a Vestal was entitled to a lictor (Plut. Num 10.3; Dio 47.19.4).

Parker alludes to the Vestals as repositories of imitative magic, with their physical integrity equated to that of the city.71 Accusations of misbehaviour arose in periods of political instability, often implicating more than one Vestal. The violator was flogged to death, whereas a fiction was created that an innocent Vestal would survive her ritual burial (Plut.

Numa 10).72 Unlike other prodigia, unchaste Vestals were interred within the city, normally a taboo location, and priests made offerings to the dead Vestals (Plut. Quaest. Rom. 96).73

Staples underlines that a problem with the virginity of a Vestal destabilised the entire state, differentiating her situation from citizen women.74 An unchaste Vestal provided a solution to the anger of the gods. By her removal, the welfare of the state could be reclaimed.75

Vestals occasionally appear in support of family interests, but there is also a view that by 113

BC, as a group they were trying to remove the restrictions on their sexual conduct.76

Moreover, in 73 BC, the acquittal of Fabia on a charge of breaking her vows with Catiline, and the advocacy of M. Piso, have been seen as signs of a less absolute attitude to Vestal guilt

71 Parker (2004) 571.

72 For discussion of why the extreme punishment was unquestioned: Parker (2004) 575-578.

73 Indeed all Vestals were granted the honour of burial within the pomerium (Serv. Aen. 11.206).

74 Staples (1998) 134-135.

75 Staples (1998) 135.

76 Bauman (1992) 47; 55-57; Wildfang (2006) 95.

(Cic. Brut. 236; Sallust. Cat. 15.1; 35.1; Ascon. 91C; Plut. Cat. Min. 19.3).77 Again in 73 BC,

Licinia was prosecuted for consorting with Crassus, but was acquitted when Crassus demonstrated that he had only tried to purchase property from her (Plut. Crass. 1.2).

The treatment of the Vestals underlines their unquestioned status as potential scapegoats.78

Attitudes relate directly to entrenched Roman ideas about the weakness of Roman women and their inherent tendency to vice, especially sexual weakness.79 Parker has emphasised the influence of ancient witchcraft on the construction of Vestal behaviour, and that the cult symbolised the unity of all Roman families.80 The regulatory framework lasted into the late

Republic, but the outcome of prosecutions in 73 BC may suggest that community attitudes did develop and change under the social pressures exerted at the end of the Republic.81

Ideals of female virtue in Roman society

Legends transmitted by Livy and Dionysius of Halicarnassus in the age of Augustus perpetuated Roman male ideals of female behaviour. The anecdotes commemorate Roman women who exemplified longstanding Roman ideals, and advertised models for future behaviour. As Assmann has demonstrated, cultural memory, including mythology, has a great impact on the formation of identity, and is highly dependent on links between the present and the past. The evolution of an account of the past is complex, and can be subject to the

77 Bauman (1992) 61.

78 Parker (2004) 575-580; cf. Wildfang (2006) 80-85 for the view that charges of incestum were often politically motivated.

79 On infirmitas sexus: Dixon (1984) 343-344.

80 Parker (2004) 570.

81 Beard (1980) 12; Wildfang (2006) 97-100.

concerns of a later age.82 The story of Lucretia rehearsed an ideal of female virtue. According to the legend, her rape in 510 BC by the son of the last Etruscan king of Rome, Tarquinius

Superbus, brought about the collapse of the monarchy – giving her a crucial role in support of her family. By committing suicide after the rape she protected her family from shame, an uncompromising example of her outstanding pudicitia and castitas, setting a standard for other Roman women to meet (Livy 1-58-60; Dion. Hal. Ant. 5.32.4-35.2).83 The saga of

Verginia, slain by her father, to preserve her from rape, was in a similar vein, but also underlines male defence of family honour (Livy 3.44-48; Dion. Hal. Ant. 11.28-38).84 Livy sees his age as one of declining moral standards (Livy Praef. 5-10), and the Augustan moral legislation suggests that the assessment of female morality was highly topical.85 Underlying the stories of Lucretia and Verginia is Roman consciousness of honour and shame, and the notion of male responsibility for defendi ng female virtue. This has been shown to have wide currency in other Mediterranean communities, and is an important aspect of Roman gender relations.86

Livy later dramatizes a stage in the struggle of the orders when Verginia, a woman of patrician rank, was excluded from the cult of pudicitia patricia (its shrine was located in the

Forum Boarium), because she had married Lucius Volumnius cos. 296 BC, a plebeian; she underlined her worth by establishing the cult of pudicitia plebeia in the Vicus Longus (Livy

82 Assmann (2011) 17-20.

83 Culham (2004) 139. On honour and shame: Vandiver (1999) 216; Vervaet (2015) 14-22.

84 Vasaly (1987); Joshel (1992) 112-113.

85 Joshel (1992) 114-115.

86 Pitt-Rivers (1965) 45-46. For cautions over the application of the notion of shame culture to Rome: McGinn

(1998a) 10-14.

10.23.1-10).87 Leading plebeian women, like their patrician counterparts, obtained a prestigious role in assuring the security of the state, as the public role of Roman women in religious contexts underwent development.88

This cult for univirae remained important in the Augustan age, despite the Augustan marital legislation.89 The ideal of the univira clashed with the Augustan marriage laws, which required prompt remarriage in the case of death or divorce.90 Valerius Maximus complains that univirae used to be honoured with a corona pudicitiae.91 Valerius saw the lapsed custom and contemporary multiple marriages as a sign of legalised incontinence (legitima intemperentia). He is proud of his rigorous attitude to morality (2.1.3).92 He connects decline with changes to the law of divorce, particularly the case of Sp. Carvilius Ruga (c. 230 BC), supposedly the first Roman permitted to divorce his wife on the grounds of sterility.93

Valerius Maximus reports critics who held that conjugal fidelity should be considered more important than desire for progeny (2.1.4). The Augustan marital laws clearly disposed of this objection at an official level.

The author of the Laudatio Turiae is very conscious of the impropriety of an unmarried girl living alone with slaves, and emphasises that ‘Turia’ took care of her reputation during his

87 Kraemer (1992) 58; D’Ambra (1993) 36 for its importance to Augustus, and later Domitian.

88 Kraemer (1992) 50-70.

89 Barrett (2002) 203; Langlands (2006) 44-46.

90 Tension reviewed by Herbert-Brown (1994) 13; 147-148.

91 The disputed date of Valerius Maximus ranges from the early to the late years of Tiberius’ reign: Bellemore

(1989); Millar (1993); Wardle (2000); Langlands (2006) 124 opts for c. AD 30.

92 Development of ideas about the status of the univira: Lightman & Zeisel (1977) 19-32.

93 Watson (1965) 38-50; Mastrorosa (2016) 66-68.

absence before their marriage, and chose to live with her future mother-in-law (LT 1.10-12).94

Valerius Maximus sees Antonia Minor as an outstanding representative of marital fides when

(aged 27), after the early death of Drusus in 9 BC, she chose to sleep chastely with Livia rather than a new husband (Val. Max. 4.3.3).95 In theory, the Augustan legislation should have required her remarriage within three years (Suet. Aug. 34.1) and Augustus is said to have applied pressure (Jos. AJ 18.180).

Spinning and weaving

Spinning and wool-working endured in the literary and epigraphic record as evidence of moral discipline and excellence. Pliny reports Varro as authority that the temple of Semo

Sancus Dius Fidius housed a bronze statue of Tanaquil, wife of Tarquinius Priscus – with her distaff and spindle, complete with wool, displayed as relics, trophies of domestic virtue.96

Tanaquil is claimed as the first bride to indicate her moral purity by weaving her tunica recta on the night before her marriage. Attention is also drawn to a pleated robe made by Tanaquil for her son in law, Servius Tullius, and kept in a shrine of Fortuna (Plin. NH 8.194; Plut. QR

30).97 The public display of this statue, a symbol of domesticity and purity, and its link with

Roman religion, was part of the process of defining female roles.

Augustus is said to have insisted that his daughter, Julia, and his granddaughters, should acquire the habit of working wool (Suet. Aug. 64.2). Moreover, Augustus’ sister Octavia made clothes for him (Suet. Aug. 73). These imperial models reinforce values underlying the

Augustan marriage laws. Elite female involvement in spinning and creating garments

94 Cicero claims, for example, that Clodia had an inappropriate relationship with her slaves (Cael. 68).

95 Kokkinos (2002) 15-16; Hemerijk (2004) 195; Langlands (2006) 63.

96 Temple located on the Quirinal: Coarelli in LTUR s.v. Semo Sancus in Colle.

97 D’Ambra (1993) 38-39.

appears in late Republican and early imperial sources (Asc. Mil. 43 C [52 BC, on the destruction of the loom of Cornelia, the wife of Lepidus, and her careful adherence to the tradition]; as a traditional skill of Roman women in the early city: Liv. 1.57 [Lucretia]). Dio pictures Augustus instructing Livia on decorous behaviour (Dio 54.16.4-5). The household of

Livia, as disclosed by the Monumentum Liviae, suggests an extensive supply of menials attending to personal needs.98 Dio claims that Livia gained influence over the emperor by an accommodating approach to his demands and failings, and his insistence on traditional gendered activities can be construed as one such test of her patience (Dio 58.2.5).99

Modesty of appearance, and behaviour

Respectable Roman women are thought to have been required to wear the veil in the 2nd century BC.100 The stola represented modest high status dress, associated with chastity and marriage. According to Valerius Maximus, neither a matrona nor her stola should be touched if she was called to be a witness at court – to set her apart, and bolster respect for citizen women (verecundia, modesty)(2.1.5a). The characteristic stola was worn over the tunic, a sort of slip, suspended from attached straps (institae).101 Originally the prerogative of patrician women, even before the 2nd Punic war the stola was extended to freedwomen married to Roman citizens (Macrob. Sat.1.6.13-14). The complying subject also wore woollen bands (vittae), and the woollen palla, a mantle, was used to veil the head in public.

98 Wardle (2014) 414. On Livia’s staff: Treggiari (1975) 45-77.

99 On attempts by Augustus to control models of behaviour: Bell (2008) 11; Cooley (2013) 29.

100 Fantham (2008) 158-171, making comparisons with modern Islamic customs. Veiling in the Greek world:

Llewellyn-Jones (2003).

101 Revising the now discarded theory of Leon (1949) 378-381 (a skirt braid).

This appears in Augustan art representing an ideal of contemporary moral standards.102 Vout notes antiquarian tendencies in artistic representations such as statues and relief sculpture, emphasising dignified appearance.103 The woollen bands were thought to have a protective role – and to indicate modesty (Plautus Miles Gloriosus 790-793; Ovid Ars Amatoria 3.483).

Ovid in his provocative poem banishes vittae and the stola from the world of illicit love (Ars

Amatoria 1.31-32). The implication of this is clear: the daring and modish in the Augustan age were out to challenge these attitudes. Ovid and his contemporaries seem deliberately outrageous and to react to imperial attempts to preserve traditional morality.104

Spurning traditional Roman dress was gaining momentum in the age of Augustus, a further aspect of life transformed by imperial growth.105 More relaxed ideas from the Hellenistic East were in vogue, and prompted moralising by Roman authors from the first century BC onwards. Despite ideals promoted by Augustus and Livia, Augustan poetry hints that Roman matronae frequently wore luxury items from the East, such as Coan silk, avoiding the traditional stola.106 Perhaps Caligula’s quip about his great-grandmother, describing her as

Ulixes stolatus is not merely a reference to Livia’s power and cunning in political matters, but also an ironical comment on her stolid and traditional dress (Suet. Cal. 23.2).107

Fides

102 Sebesta (1997) 531-537; (2001) 46-53; Olson (2008a) 27-39; Cooley (2013) 30.

103 Vout (1996) 208.

104 McGinn (1998a) 154.

105 Sebesta (1997) 529-541

106 Fantham (2008) 168.

107 Tiberius was also thought to present a deceptively innocuous persona in the manner of Odysseus (Juv. Sat.

10.84).

A further expectation of the Roman matrona was faithfulness and trustworthiness, fides.

Turia’s role in concealing her husband Vespillo during the proscriptions in 43 BC was seen by Valerius Maximus as an outstanding example of conjugal fidelity (6.7.2). Fides was a close adjunct of pudicitia. A convicted adulteress or a prostitute could never pass muster. The

Augustan Lex Julia carefully differentiated dress to mark status and infringements, and forced people in despised categories to wear a toga (Suet. Aug. 40.5; 44.2; Martial 2.39).108

The regulation may have had a Republican predecessor (Cic. Phil. 2.44-45).109 For a sexually mature woman to wear a toga was considered a sufficient insult to her respectability by equating her with a prostitute. 110 Virtuous Roman women were expected to be shamed into protecting their sexual reputation.

Breach of fides could include deliberately provocative dress, or excessively independent behaviour. If protocols were not observed, some considered the violation of pudicitia immaterial. Valerius Maximus approved of Sulpicius Galus, consul in 166 BC, who divorced his wife because she had appeared in public unveiled. Sulpicius claimed legal support for his approach, and that sighting by another would lead to suspicion and crimen (6.3.10).111 The moralistic points in Valerius reflect conservative opinion on declining standards and the prevalence of adultery.112 Valerius provides two further examples. Q. Antistius Vetus had divorced his wife for talking in the street with a freedwoman (6.3.11) - apparently because of

108 Vout (1996) 215; McGinn (1998a) 156-171; Sebesta (2001) 50.

109 McGinn (1998a) 159.

110 McGinn (1998a) 166.

111 Plutarch seems to misunderstand this episode when he claims that formerly women were not allowed to cover their heads at all (Plut. Mor. 267a-c): Fantham (2008) 159-160; cf. Hilton & Matthews (2008) 336-342.

On Sulpicius’ reaction to the slight to male honour see Lewellyn-Jones (2003) 167-168.

112 Langlands (2006) 132; Hughes (2007) 220-222.

the dislocation of status and the possibility that this interlocutor would not herself observe requisite moral standards. P. Sempronius Sophus divorced his wife because she dared to watch the games without his knowledge (6.3.12). Valerius adds that in those times strictness ensured that women toed the line (6.3.12), an implicit contrast with his contemporary context.113 Attitudes to propriety seem generally to soften under social conditions in the late

Republic. The acceptance of Servilia as Caesar’s mistress could be read as a sign of the changing standards of behaviour; the relationship may have begun before her husband, Iunius

Silanus, died in about 60 BC, and continued thereafter. This seems to have done her social standing little harm.

Comportment: in public and at mealtimes

A Roman woman, unlike her Greek counterpart, acted as hostess, and dined out with her husband. Cornelius Nepos also insists that sacrifices and festivals attended by other members of their class, and great occasions celebrated by the entire populace, provided seemly visibility for Roman women (Nepos Prologue 6).114 More private individuals could go about their business in a litter.115 Women who attended other social events without husbands were considered of questionable repute. Cicero criticises Verres for bringing his praetextate son to a picnic where he could be exposed to improper experiences (Verr. 2.3.159-160 [occasions involving vice]; 2.5.81-82 [women unaccompanied by husbands]; 2.5.137 [Verres’ illicit

113 MacMullen (1980) 208-209.

114 Russell (2016) x.

115 Treggiari (2007) 19. Domitian prevented feminae probrosae from using the litter, a prestigious form of transport (Suet. Dom. 8.3). It has been argued that these are adulteresses, and the privilege was taken from them as punishment for moral degradation. Only seemly Roman women, usually matronae, could use one: McGinn

(1998b) 241-250.

liaison with the wife of Cleomenes of Syracuse]).116 Valerius Maximus typifies the moralising tradition. The Roman custom of reclining at table is a particular target. In former times women were seated, while men reclined. Valerius decries the change; in his view a lesser standard was being required of Roman women than of Greek goddesses (2.1.2).117

Sobriety

Drunkenness was a ground for divorce. Moreover, Julia in exile was punished by being forbidden to drink wine (Suet. Aug. 65.3). Augustus exercised patria potestas over the thrice married Julia. Valerius Maximus claimed that at one time women were forbidden to drink, closely associating drinking with sexual irregularity (2.1.5b; cf. Plin. NH 14.89-90). Valerius again insists on the primacy of the glorious and sin-free past. Times were different in the

Augustan age, and some of the strictures of the past had relaxed.118 These changes seem to signify the growing role of Roman women alongside their husbands on social occasions, an arrangement seen as mutually beneficial, but initiated by men.

Roman women in public life: a growing visibility, and its regulation

On the stage and public shame

There was official unwillingness to allow the elite to appear on the stage or in the arena. The activities were tainted with infamia, and questions of gender were secondary. Appearance on the stage was never respectable for women in the Roman period.119 Early imperial sources

116 Sebesta (2005) 113; cf. Williams (1999) 19 on youths vulnerable to homosexual advances.

117 Fully explained by Langlands (2006) 129-130.

118 Purcell (1984) 194-207 explores the association of wine with adultery, and the devastating impact on Roman women.

119 Hillard (1992) 37.

emphasise the demoralising impact of the ludi scaenici, first introduced from Etruria in 364

BC (Livy 7.2; Val. Max. 2.4.4). Caesar prohibited senators from fighting in the arena in 46

BC (Dio 43.23.5). Shameful activities were closely regulated in the transitional period between Caesar and Tiberius. Participation was at first conceded to equestrians of senatorial family, or those who had left the senate (Suet. Iul. 39.1; Dio 48.33.4 [41 BC]),120 but by 22

BC, descendants of senators were included in the earlier ban (Dio 54.2.5), possibly influenced by the aedilician games in 23 BC when Marcellus had displayed both an equestrian dancer and a woman of high rank (Dio 53.31.3).

A ban on elite women appearing on the stage was instituted in 22 BC.121 Appearances continued. In 16 BC, as consul, L. Domitius Ahenobarbus produced both equestrians and citizen women of unspecified status in a display of mimes. Augustus intervened, although

Suetonius’ account mentions concern only over the cruelty of his gladiatorial games (Suet.

Nero 4). A further incident is recorded under 2 BC, but there were no repercussions (Dio

55.10.11). The ban on the equestrians was lifted in AD 11 because penalties were disregarded

(Dio 56.25.7: atimia).122 The Larinum decree of AD 19 shows that in AD 11 the freeborn under the age of 20 (women), or 25 (men), were still forbidden to perform in public events

(AE 1978, 145: 18).

The well-known case of Vistilia also concerned public shame relating to status, and illustrates changed Roman thinking introduced by the Augustan social legislation. Suetonius claims that women were dispensing with their status as matronae by registering as prostitutes, to escape the penalties of relegation to an island and confiscation of property under the Lex Iulia de

120 Levick (1983) 105.

121 Cf. Levick (1983) 107.

122 For infamia and its definition: Greenidge (1894) 18-40. For the range of punishments: Levick (1983) 109.

Adulteriis (Suet. Tib. 35.2).123 Suetonius generalises from Vistilia’s possibly unique case.124

She openly registered as a prostitute, apparently hoping, unsuccessfully, to retain her property rights.125 Tacitus considers Vistilia’s behaviour as the height of shamelessness and mentions a Senatorial decree which banned from professional prostitution the granddaughter, daughter, or wife, of a Roman knight (Tac. Ann. 2.85.1: AD 19). Vistilia chose to ignore infamia and pursue the life she had started, trying to bypass legislative disincentives.126 The intrusive imperial legislation was cutting into areas previously managed by the family consilium.127

Vistilia seems not to have anticipated intervention by the consilium or any other body, a sign of an independent spirit craving freedom of choice.

In the courts

Women rarely represent themselves in court representing before the later Republic. Valerius

Maximus mentions three examples with disapproval because he thought them unseemly, although not illegal. Valerius emphasises that no reputable woman would willingly appear in court, and nominates women whom neither gender, nor the modesty of the stola had the power to silence in the forum and the law courts (Val. Max. 8.3 praef,). Gender and propriety were paraded as checks on respectable women. A woman was expected to employ a male advocate, and failure to do so was an insult to family honour. Moreover, it is possible that

123 Lindsay (1995a) 126-127.

124 Cf. Cohen (1991) 109-110

125 McGinn (1998a) 168.

126 Cohen wonders if this shows a weakening in the shame culture: (1991) 110-112.

127 McGinn (1998a) 197-198.

only Vestals could give direct testimony in court; the use of depositions enabled other female witnesses to use male proxies.128

Maesia of Sentinum appeared before the praetor on an unspecified criminal charge. She pleaded her own case and, perhaps because of her efficacy, was accused of being androgynous.129 Her case appears to involve a quaestio. She employed the rhetorical forms not merely conscientiously but boldly, and she was acquitted almost unanimously (Val. Max.

8.3.1). Her competence reveals her status and considerable education, demonstrated by familiarity with formal rhetoric.130 Her appearance in court without male representation may have been commoner than Valerius Maximus implies, but Marshall suggests that political upsets impeded conventional arrangements, and that it is improbable that Maesia was asserting her independence; rather, the dislocation for a woman from the Umbrian town of

Sentinum was precipitated by circumstances after the Social war.131

The second woman mentioned is Afrania/Carfania, a notorious litigious woman. She died in

48 BC, and Valerius records her death with satisfaction. She frequently appeared before the praetor in civil cases, not for want of an advocate. Valerius Maximus accuses her of impudence (Val. Max. 8.3.2). She is identified as the wife of Licinius Bucco, a senator in the

Sullan era.132 According to Ulpian, Afrania/Carfania’s behaviour necessitated the ban in the praetor’s edict on women bringing suit on behalf of others, to prevent women from intruding

128 Wildfang (2006) 67-69.

129 On her case: Marshall (1990a) 46-59

130 Marshall (1990a) 47. In court she followed through modosque omnes ac numeros defensionis (all the forms and stages of the defence).

131 Marshall (1990a) 56-58.

132 MRR 2.492

into male domains (D. 3.1.1.5).133 Gardner clarifies the situation – the ban was not on bringing suit, but on participation as plaintiff or defendant on behalf of others. She further suggests that the SC Velleianum (1st century AD, dated AD 41-65) limited the right of legally independent women to undertake liability for others (D. 16.1).134 A woman could only litigate concerning her own property.135 In the later Republic, increased wealth and civil war conditions made such cases commoner.136 Crook suggests plausibly that the legislative moves aimed to maintain the imbecillitas sexus highlighted by Ulpian (D. 16.1.2.2).137 Women could appear as defendants or prosecutors, when attending to their own interests, or those of close family. Thus Turia defended family interests in court in the absence of a relevant male. She would have needed the consent of her tutor, but nothing is known of his identity (LT 18-

26).138 Her case may be something of a commonplace.

Valerius Maximus is not so scornful over Hortensia’s appearance for the ordo matronarum.

They harnessed her considerable skills as a collective act, necessitated by the triumviral impositions when no male advocate could be found (Val. Max. 8.3.3). Valerius grudgingly admits the extraordinary circumstances, elsewhere alluding to the high standing of the ordo matronarum (Val. Max. 5.2.1a). He adds that she revived her father’s eloquence and obtained

133 The name Carfania appears first in Ulpian and has been restored to the text of Valerius Maximus; many authorities prefer Afrania: Marshall (1989) 43-46; Bauman (1992) 231 n. 29. Other sources imply that women like this were sexually immodest as well: McGinn (1998a) 164, explaining Juv. Sat. 2.68-70.

134 Crook (1986) 83-92; see 89-90 on Claudian abolition of agnatic guardianship and the impact of the ius liberorum under Augustus.

135 Gardner (1986) 262-263.

136 McGinn (1998a) 51.

137 Crook (1986) 90-91.

138 Gardner (1986) 262-263; Hemelrijk (2004) 194-195; Lindsay (2009b) 190; Osgood (2014) 17-20.

remission of most of the burden, but her extraordinary intervention could have been avoided if a male descendant of the great Hortensius had chosen the path of advocacy.139 Valerius

Maximus demonstrates dismay at female intrusion into the law courts, but his conservative views hardly prove that there was no general movement towards a more open approach.

Nevertheless, the continuing ban on women acting for others limited the range of opportunities available.

Marshall argues that female visibility in court grew in the early Principate, as result of the requirement that women should appear before the Senate. The role of the Senate within the legal hierarchy had changed, and females could appear on treason charges (maiestas) at the centre of political life, in an arena hitherto excluded to their sex.140 Cicero saw the Senate as an environment requiring an idealised level of regulated decorum – emphasising its role in providing a model of honourable behaviour (Leg. 3.10-11). He was not thinking of the presence of women when he prescribed this.

Exposure to potential conviction in the Senatorial court was no advance in political freedom for elite women, or other women required to attend the court, but reflected changed political processes. Senatorial cases concerned individuals of Senatorial status, or affecting Senatorial interests, and usually had a significant political dimension. A woman could be charged with maiestas on the grounds that she had been involved in activities dangerous to the state, or the princeps, and adultery could also cross significant status barriers, and have political ramifications.141 There is little to support the idea that women could appear as prosecutors before the Senate, but they undoubtedly did appear as witnesses.142

139 Dixon (1988) 172 n. 14.

140 Marshall (1990b) 334-335.

141 Marshall (1990b) 336-337.

Women in the provinces

Cato, as censor in 184 BC, had attempted to prevent the display of statues honouring women in the provinces (Plin. NH 34.31), but after the time of Sulla the wives of Roman governors were honoured with statues, often without visiting those remote shores. Their reputations preceded them, evidence of their established prestige at Rome. The reactionary speech of

Aulus Caecina Severus in AD 21 shows that during the Republic informal custom dictated that wives should not accompany husbands to the provinces (Tac. Ann. 3.33.2).143 Caecina’s rant about the desirability of making that custom official policy responded to the trial of Piso and his wife Plancina in AD 20, and to the trend for couples to operate together in the provinces.144 Under Augustus, members of the domus Augusta were absent for extensive periods in the East. Senatorial governors followed the example. Tacitus outlines informal political interventions which could occur between provincials and the wives of governors

(Ann. 3.32.4), and raises the spectre of women in charge everywhere; at home, in the forum, and in the army (Tac. Ann. 3.33.4).145 In AD 24 Cotta Messalinus in a Senatusconsultum proposed that magistrates in the provinces should be absolutely liable for the wrongs of their spouses (Tac. Ann. 4.20.4; D 1.16.4.2 [Ulpian], dated to AD 20, apparently wrongly). A maiestas case against C. Silius, a legate in Germania Superior, and his wife Sosia Galla lay behind this. The couple, supposedly hated by Tiberius because of proximity to Agrippina and

Germanicus, were attacked by Sejanus; after conviction, Silius committed suicide, and Sosia was exiled (Tac. Ann. 4.18-20.1 [AD 24]).

142 Marshall (1990b) 355-356.

143 Marshall (1975a) 11; 14; (1975b); Raepsaet-Charlier (1982) 56-57; Barrett (2005) 302-304.

144 On the inscriptional evidence for the Senatorial response to the trial and its outcome: Griffin (1997). For criticism of Plancina in the literary record: Tac. Ann. 2.55.6.

145 Foubert (2016) 464-471.

The SC was implemented, but elite women continued to accompany their husbands. Pliny later recounts the case of a the governor of Baetica in AD 97, Caecilius Classicus, who was convicted de repetundis; his wife and daughter were also under suspicion, but evaded conviction (Plin. Ep. 3.9.19-20).146 A major social change occurred in the early imperial period, and by AD 100 whole families were regularly accompanying provincial governors.

When Sulla was accompanied by his wife, Caecilia Metella during 86 BC, his harsh handling of Athens was attributed to her treatment by the Athenians (Plut. Sulla 6.10-12; 13.1).

Pompey’s wife Cornelia also accompanied him on his fatal visit to the East during 49-48 BC

(Plut. Pomp. 74.1-76.1). Both examples do in fact involve extraordinary circumstances.

Cicero complied with convention, and did not take Terentia to Cilicia in 51 BC. Verres, in contrast, is the classic example of a misbehaving wifeless Republican governor.147

During the long absences and troubled politics of the triumviral period, both Fulvia and

Octavia accompanied Antony to the East, as well as Antony’s mother, Julia. Fulvia, in flight from Octavian, joined Antony after the Perusine war, and a long period of separation (App.

BC 5.52); contemporaneously, Antony’s mother Julia, after flight to Sicily, was sent on to

Greece by Sextus Pompey, accompanied by envoys seeking political advantages (Dio

48.15.2).148 Octavia, after marriage to Antony, tried to keep the Brundisium arrangements alive through proximity. These women proved important agents of diplomacy, and thereafter

Julio-Claudian family members were regularly accompanied by wives on their travels. Apart from Augustus and Livia (Tac. Ann. 3.34.6), the travels of Julia and Agrippa are noteworthy

(Julia was nearly drowned in the Scamander near Troy in 14 BC: Nicolaus, FGrHist 2A: 421-

146 Raepsaet-Charlier (1982) 61.

147 Marshall (1975a) 16.

148 Barrett (2006) 129 for references.

422; Jos. AJ 16.26; SIG3 776). Augustus was unable to prevent the extension of the trend to the wives of legates and governors. He required legates to apply for special permission for relatively brief spousal visits (Suet. Aug. 24.1).149 Under Tiberius, Agrippina accompanied

Germanicus to the Rhine, and gave birth to the younger Agrippina at Cologne (Suet. Cal. 8.3;

Tac. Ann. 12.27.1). Agrippina gave birth twice in Germany; a further child did not survive

(Suet. Cal. 8.3).150 Tacitus saw her presence amongst the legions as a problem (Tac. Ann.

1.40), even more starkly emphasised later in the case of Plancina (Tac. Ann. 2.55 [presence at military drills]; 2.58 [recipient of gifts from Vonones]). Raepsaet-Charlier adduces a total of

89 known examples of spouses in the provinces in the first and second centuries AD.151

As the century progressed, local communities demonstrated respect and increased the standing of their communities by decreeing honours for imperial women and other family members.152 This new approach had precedents in the Hellenistic world, where local women of status were commemorated for their public benefactions already in the 2nd century BC.153

Members of the imperial family, governors’ wives, and local elite women all grew in visibility in this new order. Antony and his prominent wives, as well as Augustus and Livia, operated as models for the elites in the provinces as well as within Italy itself. A new model of patronage and leadership was gradually emerging. Women of standing were central to the gaze.

The commemoration of women: new frontiers: laudationes funebres for women

149 Barrett (2006) 130-132, supporting the idea that husbands returned to Italy rather than that wives visited the provinces.

150 Lindsay (1995b) 7-8.

151 (1982) 64-69.

152 Kajava (1990) reviews epigraphic evidence from the East.

153 For women’s roles in civic life under the empire: Hemelrijk (2015).

The Republican laudatio funebris, delivered from the rostra in the forum, recognised the virtutes of a distinguished man and his family’s contribution to public life, especially military achievements, and provided role models for the next generation.154 Male laudationes were originally designed to meet the political requirements of leading Senatorial families.155

Assmann sees memorials of this sort as an important aspect of cultural memory, celebrating virtues of the dead and enshrining the hopes of the living, memory with both a prospective and retrospective component.156 It has a role in creating community identity.

The exclusion of women from political life and public offices explains why the laudatio long remained a male preserve.157 Statues of women were largely excluded from the city, and the forum continued its role as male civic space despite the growth in female visibility.158

Bauman lists women who were honoured with laudationes in the late Republic, and this can be added to and refined.159 The emerging female profile is important because it illustrates the softening of the public/private divide as a result of the increased importance of forms of political contact facilitated within elite households. The visibility and role of wives and daughters increased hand in hand with the wealth and infighting amongst the elite.

Few of the known funerary speeches function in a similar way to the male laudatio. The women honoured had substantial public profiles through their male relatives, but no comparable career in the forum. Q. Lutatius Catulus praised his mother, Popillia, on her death

154 On virtus and women in the Republic: McDonnell (2006) 161-165.

155 Women could contribute imagines to public funerals, and must have been present: Flower (1996) 122 n.142;

Boatwright (2011) 114. For a new and illuminating discussion: Webb (2017) 140-183.

156 Assmann (2011) 46-47.

157 Hemelrijk (2015) 320-329.

158 Boatwright (2011) 119-130.

159 Bauman (1992) 64-65.

during his consulship in 102 BC.160 In De Oratore, Cicero cites an imagined dialogue between M. Antonius (cos. 95 BC) and Catulus, in which Antonius delightedly remembers

Popillia as the first woman so honoured at Rome (Cic. De Oratore 2.44).161 Gaius Gracchus had earlier used Cornelia’s established status as the daughter of Africanus, to harness her powerful reputation to assist him politically.162 As Brennan points out, Popillia was a descendant of the Popillii Laenates, and her celebration foreshadows the expanded use of the female line, which culminated in major reform to Roman nomenclature in the early empire.163

Catulus used his well-connected mother’s laudatio to expand his own political reputation.

Kelly discusses her particular achievements, noting that the Gracchan opponent P. Popillius

Laenas (cos. 132 BC) was forced into exile by Gaius Gracchus in 123 BC, and perhaps went to Macedonia. He was only recalled after extensive lobbying by friends and relatives, including his sons (Cic. Red. Sen. 37; Red. Pop. 6), and perhaps also his kinswoman Popillia

(Festus 136M).164 While Catulus’ main interest was in male politics based in the forum, his mother’s indirect role in Gracchan politics now became relevant to the family’s image.

Popillia’s eulogy shows that things women did were being watched, assessed, and praised from the rostra. The contentious politics of the Marian era demanded additional tools in the competition for prestige, and the precedent of Cornelia appears to be influential.

160 Surely a laudatio funebris: contra Hillard (2001) 46-55.

161 Catulus had been consul with Marius in 102 BC, sharing his successful campaign against the Cimbri at

Vercellae (101 BC); later he sided with Sulla, and committed suicide in 87 BC when Sulla’s cause was failing.

Hillard suggests that we should accept Livy’s claim that women had already been granted the laudatio as a reward for their generosity during the Gallic siege in 390 BC (Livy 5.50.7): (2001) 45.

162 Dixon (2007) 11; 18-32.

163 Brennan (2012) 363. Nomenclature changes: Salway (1994) 131-133.

164 Kelly (2006) 71-73; 167-168.

A casual reference in De Oratore shows that a Brutus delivered a laudatio at the public funeral of Iunia in 91 BC. The ceremony included the display of actors wearing ancestral masks, presumably showcasing male ancestors, as in noble funerals (De Orat. 2.225-226).165

Crassus criticised Brutus for his lack of a public career, and presented him as a shameful contrast to his distinguished female relative.166

Caesar as quaestor in 69 BC commemorated his aunt Julia, the widow of Marius, with a laudatio from the rostra, publicising his link with popularis politics (Suet. Iul. 6).167 He also linked her maternal lineage to a reputable king, Ancus Marcius, and, her paternal ancestry through the Iulii to Venus.168 Julia’s public visibility derived from the popular profile created by her role as Marius’ wife and widow; Caesar also hoped to harness her bilateral forebears and their outstanding pedigree.169

In the same year, Caesar commemorated his own wife Cornelia with a laudatio (Suet. Iul. 6).

Sulla had unsuccessfully tried to force Caesar to divorce her because she was the daughter of his bitter political opponent, Cinna (Suet. Iul. 1.1); Cinna’s successful career now provided useful political leverage. Public defiance of the Sullan legacy was an opportunity to use

Caesar’s wife to bolster his standing. Cornelia’s own uncharted contribution to the circle of elite women at Rome was clearly of great importance. The laudatio embedded the political networks of Caesar’s wife - an important emerging aspect of the conduct of male careers in the forum. Cornelia was the first young woman so honoured.

165 Brennan (2012) 363.

166 Boatwright (2011) 115; cf. Tempest (2017) 18-19.

167 The date is disputed, but Gelzer favours 69 BC: (1968) 335; Caesar displayed images of Marius for the first time since he was declared public enemy by Sulla in 88 BC: Bauman (1992) 64.

168 The legendary genealogy underlines his political pretensions: Wiseman (1974b).

169 Brennan (2012) 363.

Further laudationes followed these precedents. Porcia, the sister of Cato Uticensis and the widow of a victim of Pharsalus, L. Domitius Ahenobarbus (cos. 54 BC), died in 45 BC.

Funerary speeches were composed by Cicero, as well as Varro and Ollius. Cicero sent a draft to Atticus, asking him to pass it on to Porcia’s son, and her nephew Brutus, provided it was up to scratch (Att. 13.37.3/346, Tusculum, 21 August 45 BC). A second draft was sent as an afterthought with the same instructions. Cicero demanded copies of the speeches by Varro and Ollius. Ollius recorded the outspoken Pompeian views of Porcia (Att. 13.48.2/345,

Tusculum, 21 August 45 BC).170 Neither Cicero’s speech nor its two competitors were delivered from the rostra, nor directly linked to the funeral, but were intended for circulation to influential politicians. The very high status of these recipients is a sign of Porcia’s mark on politics, and signals changing social emphases.

In 42 BC, Atticus delivered a laudatio in honour of his nonagenarian mother, Caecilia (Nepos

Atticus 17.1). Nepos knew Atticus well, and heard Atticus claim at the funeral never to have needed to apologise to his mother, and never to have quarrelled with his sister.171 The

Laudatio Murdiae also makes extravagant claims about familial pietas.172 Nepos reports

Atticus’ focus on his own behaviour, not that of his subject. In this case, the speech was delivered at the funeral.

The emperor Tiberius moderated the politicisation of the funeral of Iunia, the half-sister of

Brutus, when she died at advanced age in AD 22, sixty three years after the battle of

Philippi.173 Iunia Tertia, the niece of Cato Uticensis, and wife of the conspirator Cassius, was

170 Münzer (1999) 304 on the role of these productions.

171 sine querela – a conventional claim.

172 Lindsay (2004) 94-97.

173 Details of her life calculated by Münzer (1999) 323. She appears to have been about 93 in AD 22.

one of three daughters of Servilia by her second husband; as the daughter of a forceful

Republican mother, and a person of consequence in 44 BC, she was a sensitive subject. Her will had deliberately overlooked Tiberius, but he allowed the celebration of her life from the rostra, even allowing imagines of twenty great houses to be displayed. Tacitus claims that the absence of Brutus and Cassius only drew attention to their memory (Tac. Ann. 3.76). He fails to reveal whether this absence was enforced, or merely tactfully managed by the family.

Typically, he hints at dark motives on the part of Tiberius.174 Well into the reign of Tiberius, the death of the wife of one of Caesar’s assassins raised the spectre of Brutus and Cassius, and had potential to destabilise political life.

These high status laudationes indicate the great growth in the public visibility of the wives and mothers of key players. Under the triumvirate and Augustus, these commemorative acts seem to have developed into a fashion in lesser elite families, evidenced by the laudatio

Turiae and the laudatio Murdiae.175

Meanwhile, with the advent of the imperial system, public funerals were largely reserved for the imperial family, and by the second century had been forbidden to others.176 As Hemelrijk has emphasised, in the municipalities and the provinces, public funerals for members of the elite remained both permissible and highly esteemed tokens of distinction. Both male and female recipients can be documented. 177

Roman ideals and commemoration

174 Cf. Bauman (1992) 64; 235 n.17; Hemelrijk (2015) 320-329.

175 Lindsay (2009b) 183; 189.

176 Wesch-Klein (1993) 36; Hemelrijk (2015) 320.

177 Hemelrijk (2015) 320-329.

There is a close connection between Roman ideals and commemoration by a laudatio funebris. Ideals of female behaviour presented by Roman male authors may not reflect social realities, but they do encompass expectations commonly expressed to the world at large. 178

As Hallett has observed, authors such as Seneca can identify desirable male characteristics in women, inherited from a father or other esteemed male relative, and concede this influence on their intellectual capacities. Legendary examples such as Lucretia and Cloelia display virtues also valued in men (Sen. Cons. Ad Marc. 1.6; 24.2).179 The funeral laudatio takes a different course, and Hallett emphasises that characteristics of the two sexes were rigidly assigned, with attention to differentiating behaviours acceptable in the two sexes.180

Specifically female virtues are listed in two extant laudationes. In the Laudatio Murdiae (CIL

VI 10230 = ILS 8394), the deceased, Murdia, is celebrated by the son of her first marriage, who rehearses a standardised list of male expectations of respectable women:

my dearest of all mothers deserved the greater praise from everyone because in

modesty, honesty, chastity, obedience, wool-working, diligence and

trustworthiness she was the equal and the model of other upstanding women nor did

she fall behind any woman in virtus,181 work or wisdom under danger …182

178 Virtues such as chastity, loyalty, frugality, and industry are commonplace on epitaphs: Lattimore (1962) 277-

280; 295-299; 334-339.

179 But the reverse was not true. Men could not be represented as (for example) woolworkers without compromising their masculinity (Cic. De Or. 2.277; Juv. Sat. 2.54-56): Hallett (1989) 63-64. For the story of

Lucretia and Roman notions of honour: Vandiver (1999) 206-232.

180 Hallett (1989) 64.

181 On female virtus: McDonnell (2006) 161-165.

The male laudatio concentrated on achievement in public life, particularly in the military sphere, summarised in the report of the speech of Quintus Caecilius Metellus on the occasion of the death of his father Lucius Caecilius Metellus (221 BC) (Pliny NH 7.139). 183 In Roman thinking, in isolating praiseworthy characteristics of women, modesty and chastity are closely linked, and the laudatio Murdiae also lists other revealing male concerns. This inscription has been dated to the Augustan era by modern scholars, and mimics Augustus in raising anachronistic wool-working as a proof of moral rectitude in a society with ready availability of slave-labour.184

Between 8-6 BC, the laudatio Turiae produces a nearly identical list of virtues, applying them to a woman with a much more troubled public life than Murdia:

LT (30-32): Why should I mention your domestic virtues: your loyalty, obedience,

affability, reasonableness, industry in working wool, religion without

superstition, sobriety of attire, modesty of appearance? Why dwell on your love

for your relatives, your devotion to your family?185

182 My translation: Lindsay (2004) 88-97. Text of Laudatio Murdiae ll. 27-30: maiorem laudem omnium carissima mihi mater meruit quod modestia probitate pudicitia opsequio lanifico diligentia fide par similisque cetereis probeis feminis fuit neque ulli cessit virtutis laboris sapientiae periculorum…

183 Crawford (1941-2) 17-27.

184 Still attributed to an exemplary matron under Trajan: D’Ambra (1989) 399. Ulpia Epigone appears to be a freedwoman, and she shares wool-working with, Allia Potestas, another freedwoman whose verse inscription is displayed in the Terme epigraphic museum in Rome (CIL 6.37965): Horsfall (1985) 251-272.

185 Wistrand’s translation: (1976) 21. Text of LT 30-32: domestica bona pudicitiae, opsequi, comitatis, facilitatis, lanificiis tuis adsiduitatis, religionis sine superstitione, ornatus non conspiciendi, cultus modici cur memorem?

Cur dicam de tuorum caritate, familiae pietate?

Turia’s commemorator has the standardised list of virtues, and, after listing them for form’s sake, personalises his account with actual biographical material. The choice of celebrating the subject’s life with a funeral laudatio, combined with its function as a grave marker, prescribed the inclusion of virtues. Turia, unlike Murdia, was an almost ideal univira;186 she had no previous husband and had been married to her commemorator for some forty years.

Her only failing in her Augustan context was in not providing her husband with an heir.

Conclusion

Before the principate, the public/private divide had already been challenged by the increasing wealth of the elite, and the growing importance of aristocratic residences in the political life of the city. Roman women were still excluded from direct intervention in the Senate, but they could operate at home in a different mode from their husbands, supplying crucial support.

Their role was enhanced by a high level of financial independence, and frequent male absences on provincial duties.

Ideals of female purity were reinforced by the exemplary role of the Vestals, and by legendary examples such as Lucretia and Verginia, which appear in Livy and Dionysius. The

Vestals were drawn from families of high standing, underlining their role as models of behaviour. The cruel punishment of Vestals provided a backdrop to female life at Rome, generating fear and compliance.

The ideal of the univira met with some challenges in the face of the Augustan marriage laws.

However, Augustus promoted spinning and weaving in support of his moral reforms, and traditional dress was also advocated as a symbol of modesty. The Augustan poets demonstrate that not everyone wanted the message. Nevertheless, provocative dress or

186 Lightman and Zeisel (1977) 19-32.

transgressive behaviour of any sort could be construed as a breach of fides. Behavioural standards at mealtimes were also less strict at the end of the Republic, but still potentially an area of criticism.

Although the visibility of Roman women was increasing, certain areas were taboo: appearances on the stage were carefully regulated with regard to status; both males and females were affected. Unsurprisingly, prostitution was thought unsuitable for women of status. The difference in the early empire was that sexual behaviour was now regulated sternly by imperial legislation rather than the family consilium.

Women’s appearances in the courts were viewed with disdain by Roman males, and it was felt that they should use male advocates. It remained permissible for women to represent themselves, but not to appear for others. This was felt unseemly. Hortensia’s role as advocate for the ordo matronarum is seen by Valerius Maximus as a mark against the male descendants of Hortensius – who should have fulfilled the role.

Elite women are not recorded in the provinces until the time of Sulla, although provincial communities may have celebrated them to demonstrate respect for their husbands. The examples set by Antony and the imperial family spread to the Augustan elite, and details were regularised under Tiberius. The idea that elite couples should operate together in these leading roles is a major acknowledgment of substantial changes in social structure.

Finally, the prestige of a public funeral and the accompanying laudatio had been seen as a male preserve, and a reward for a successful Senatorial career. During the generation after the death of the Gracchi, at the funeral of Popillia in 102 BC, the first high status woman gained the honour, a woman who, it might be conjectured, had assisted a relative exiled by Gaius

Gracchus in 123 BC. The high profile of Cornelia during the ascendancy of the Gracchi seems to have been a major influence on this development.

Chapter 3: Legal and financial issues relating to Roman women: continuity and change between 200 BC and the age of Augustus

This chapter focuses on legislative changes after the Second Punic war, a period when immense wealth had poured into Italy, accompanied by a great increase in the slave- population, and changes to the structure of Roman society. In reviewing legal changes, attention is drawn to laws reining in or attempting to rein in female behaviour. In the early city patria potestas in conjunction with the consilium domesticum had a major role in maintaining the patriarchy and controlling the behaviour of family. Legally independent women were controlled by agnatic tutela, and were not entitled to write wills until an unknown date, later than the Law of the Twelve Tables (451/450 BC). By the time of

Cornelia, agnatic emphasis had declined, tutela became less burdensome, and women were entitled to write wills. Marriage without manus led to greater informality over non-dowry property held by a wife, and the women discussed here were all married without manus.

Second century legal interventions foreshadowed greater political changes at the time of the

Gracchi, and throughout the 1st century BC. Measures with a direct impact on women’s lives are central.1 Sumptuary and inheritance laws directly affected female behaviour. The Lex

Oppia, passed under war conditions in 215 BC, limited female expenditures on luxuries. It was challenged in 195 BC, and only repealed after extensive protests. The Lex Voconia (169

BC) attempted to restrict the access of female beneficiaries to large estates. Post war, wealth was spreading through the community, and conservative forces attempted to prevent major social changes relating to gender roles. The Bacchanalian Senatus Consultum in 186 BC also included limitation of the public prominence of women amongst its concerns.

1 Carp (1981) 192-193.

The expansion of Roman power during the 2nd century BC created strains within Roman politics, and culminated in extended civil war. The Roman Republic reached a crisis with the murder of Caesar, and the triumviral period generated a revolutionary new political arrangement.2 This transitional period was difficult for Roman women and their relationships with their frequently absent partners. The ‘restoration of the republic’ in 28/27 BC initiated the imperial age, which continued to evolve significantly in the ensuing years.3 The Augustan moral reforms of 18 BC and AD 9 regulated both sexes.4 The laws represented novel intrusion into the private domain, and took over functions previously under the control of the family council (consilium domesticum). The adultery law brought disgrace on both parties, and the shaming of the woman through equating her with a prostitute. The Augustan laws also had an important impact on inheritance patterns, which in turn brought about further adjustment. Their importance here relates to the nature of their response to the late

Republican world.

Female roles: shifting paradigms

Over these two hundred years, Roman women never gained access to public office, or voting power, and had no legitimised involvement in political processes. Nevertheless, great changes were gathering pace in the legal position of Roman women, especially in their financial dealings. The seeds of these changes can be traced to the development of the regularity of marriage without manus. When marriage without manus became customary cannot be

2 On the impact of civil war: Breed, Damon, and Rossi (eds) (2000). A recent general survey of the period is

Alston (2015).

3For assessment of the political transformation: Rich (2012) 37-121.

4 These reforms have been discussed extensively, but usually exclusively confined to their Augustan context:

Csillag (1976); McGinn (1998a) Chapters 3-6.

established with certainty.5 Women married without manus, apart from their dowry, often had independent resources (peculium), which they could deploy with comparatively little supervision. Only the dowry itself automatically fell under control of the husband.6 Parallel to this legal development, great increases in elite family wealth during the second century BC occurred within this segment of society, especially through inheritance. Tutela remained a theoretical check on women’s transactions, but women in the late Republic were little thwarted in financial dealings. Although these changes are far from thoroughly documented, the individualwomen discussed here are portrayed as having substantial freedom in their social and financial interactions.

This chapter focuses on legal changes which see Roman women in this historical era progressing toward emancipation from male control. The emphasis in this chapter is on the social impact of major measures after 200 BC, the cause of changes, and the instigators. In particular, where possible, the impact of pressure and collective action by Roman women will be examined. Another issue is how the legislative measures altered women’s lives, and whether they achieved the results intended by their backers.

Evolutionary views influenced by 19th century thinking have been criticised, in particular approaches which see the history of elite Roman women progressing towards emancipation.

Changes to legal rules may not reflect evolutionary development. McGinn warns in particular of the unsuitability of a model which sees the structure of the Roman family evolving from an

5 Lévy-Bruhl (1936) 453-466; Looper-Friedman (1987) 281-296. Bauman suggests a date soon after the poisoning trials in 331 BC, specifically nominating the case of L. Annius in 307 BC as a blow against manus

(Val. Max. 2.9.2): (1992) 15-19.

6 Gardner (1986) 9.

agnatic to a cognatic form.7 It may not be possible to pin down in every case exact causes of legal and social change.

The paterfamilias: authority and its exercise:

1. Theoretical authority

Patria potestas established the power of the male head of a Roman family (paterfamilias) over free subordinate members, who were subject to this authority either as a result of birth, marriage, or adoption. Romans believed that patriarchal power had not been bestowed by legislation at some earlier stage of Roman evolution, but had originated in time immemorial and continued under the influence of custom (mos). It was acknowledged in the first written laws, the Twelve Tables, and continued into the late Republic and beyond.8 Roman males would normally at birth be under the power of their father or grandfather, and would remain under that power until the death of their male ascendant, or until freed by adoption or emancipation. To fall under the potestas either of the actual father or the paterfamilias (if not the same person), a child had to be born in an authorised citizen marriage (iustae nuptiae).9

Legitimate citizen marriage was only possible for those with conubium. Children born under other circumstances were unacceptable; in addition, the father had to acknowledge paternity.10 Daughters remained under the potestas of their paterfamilias unless emancipated, adopted, or married under manus. Emancipation was possible under certain circumstances, and would result in legal independence (sui iuris), subject to control by a tutor.11 Adoption of

7 McGinn (1998a) 6.

8 Robinson (1997) 28.

9 Treggiari (1991) 49-51.

10 Watson (1967) 77-79; Treggiari (1991) 43-49.

11 Details of emancipation: Gardner (1998) 6-113.

women at Rome was rare, but theoretically possible, and would put a woman under control of a new paterfamilias.12 Manus marriages also altered the identity of the daughter’s paterfamilias. In the case of adoption or manus marriage, a legally independent woman would lose that status, and fall once more under male control, rather than tutelary supervision. Both sons and daughters in power gained a level of financial independence through the growth of peculium in the late Republic, which was beneficial to the working of the family, but did result in some reduction in the power of the paterfamilas.13

2. Exercise of authority

Dionysius of Halicarnassus contrasts the Greek world, and observes that Roman private life was subject to close scrutiny by the censor. The censor could investigate the paterfamilias for harshness to family members, including children and slaves, and regulate many other private concerns (Dion. Hal. Ant. 20.13.1-2). The theoretical power of the paterfamilias met many obstacles. Amongst elite women discussed, Cornelia stands out through the early death of her husband, increasing her role in managing her family. Servilia’s situation is comparable after the death of her second husband. Cornelia appears to have organised her household with little external interference, although her tutelage arrangements are unknown. Under Roman demographic conditions, patria potestas must always have been subject to variation in its application, and the early death of an older husband was no rarity. The system cannot usually have operated as an extreme form of patriarchy.14 In the later Republic, male absences at war or on provincial duties created strains. Family instability arose through the bloody proscription in the Sullan years, and later under the second triumvirate. The war between

12 Lindsay (2009a) 73-74.

13 On peculium: Kirschenbaum (1987) 31-46; Fleckner (2014).

14 Saller (1994) 102-132.

Pompey and Caesar was also disruptive, as the case of ‘Turia’ shows (LT 1.5). Cluett suggests that proscriptions and doubts over the loyalty of household members challenged the authority of the paterfamilias.15 Appian mentions marriages that did not survive absences, and the pursuit of proscribed family members (BC 4.40). These were unstable conditions which encouraged social change, but financial arrangements for women suggest that changes to the role of women had already gathered momentum.

The ancestors and the financial and marital position of Roman women

In the Pro Murena, in 63 BC, Cicero argued that the ancestors had placed women under the power of tutors because of their weakness of judgement (Cic. Murena 12.27: propter infirmitatem consilii).16 This claim may originate in the Twelve Tables. Cicero also underlines the permanence of tutela, the tutela mulierum perpetua, which provided ongoing supervision of a Roman woman, after release from patria potestas as a sui iuris. The tutor had theoretical control over her monetary affairs. According to Cicero’s argument in the particular case, Roman lawyers had more recently compromised the intentions of the ancestors, giving women effective power over their tutors. Available sources never fully discuss these adjustments, but, as praetorian remedies to the civil law developed, agnatic descent became less influential in choosing tutors.17 Tutors were no longer chosen from the interested male descendants, and therefore had less concern over the long term fate of the estate. Under intestacy, praetorian law could grant estates to cognates. The praetorian remedies, generated by the praetor urbanus to remove impractical aspects of the civil law,

15 Cluett (1998) 72.

16 Infirmitas is a term also used of children and in other demeaning contexts: Dixon (1984) 343-344.

17 On the Praetorian edict: Nicholas (1962) 19-27; Kelly (1966) 341-355; Watson (1970) 105-119. Date of changes: Gardner (1998) 24-42.

although not specifically created to assist female interests, opened the way to greater freedom.18 As Dixon points out, we cannot prove that Cicero thought women innately incapable of managing their own affairs, because he presents a case rather than displays his personal opinion. In separate discussion of the Lex Voconia, he appears to take a relatively progressive view of women gaining economic independence (Re Publica 3.17). The jurist

Gaius (2nd century AD) believed that there was little justification for tutela of adult women

(Gaius Inst. 1.190).19 .However, the idea of feminine incapacity was still transmitted by the classical jurists of the Severan age.20

Dixon argues that tutela mulierum originally safeguarded male inheritance rights, and underwent change as the society moved away from an exclusively agnatic model of inheritance. The idea of tutela mulierum can be traced back to two passages from the Twelve

Tables, covering the intestacy of a paterfamilias (Tables 5.3; 5.6).21 His wife under manus, or his children in potestate, could inherit his property, but only under supervision. In cases of intestacy, all the children of a paterfamilias, regardless of sex, as well as a wife under manus had equal shares as automatic heirs (sui heredes), and became legally independent on his decease. The difference between sons and daughters was that even mature women fell under tutela. Since this form of guardianship was originally the preserve of male agnates, nominated under the Twelve Tables as intestate heirs in the absence of sui heredes, they could hope to succeed in due course (Just. Inst. 1.17). Thus guardianship was commonly undertaken by brothers or uncles of the deceased subject to protect male interests, and not

18 Gardner (1998) 20-24.

19 Foubert (2016) 469.

20 Dixon (1984) 343-344. Gaius cites levitas animi as the reason tutela had been inflicted on women of all ages by the veteres (Gaius Inst. 1.144) – apparently not his own view. Ulpian has a similar formulation (Tit. 11.1).

21 For the text of these provisions: Crawford (1996) II: 535.

directly formulated to protect vulnerable female interests. The guardian’s aim was to protect family property from being alienated contrary to his interests. Guardianship favoured males in the senior generation within the familia. At the time of the Twelve Tables, neither women nor children could make a will, so the chances of the tutor inheriting as intestate heir were high.

After the Twelve Tables, legally independent women could manage their property, but major transactions were supervised by a male relation as tutor. On entering a manus marriage, a woman left her natal family with her share of family wealth as a dowry, set up by her male relations.22 A woman required tutorial permission before handing over dowry and contracting a manus marriage, and all her property, now out of reach of her male relatives – including any peculium - was then controlled by the paterfamilias of her husband’s family, or the husband, if he was the paterfamilias. She lost automatic inheritance rights in her natal family, and was heir to her husband on comparable terms to her own children (Gaius Inst.1.109-113).

These arrangements largely cut the woman’s ties with her natal family, but political links remained between the networks of husband and wife, and adoption and inheritance provided avenues for maintaining links.23

Intestate rules under the Twelve Tables remained static long after other changes had occurred. Agnatic succession determined the main emphasis in intestate inheritance. Under a major breakthrough at an unknown date later than the Twelve Tables and in unknown circumstances, women could make a will per aes et libram, with permission from their tutor

22 On manus marriage: Treggiari (1991) 28-32.

23 Close kin adoptions outlined in Lindsay (2009a) 151-155.

and after undergoing a formal ceremony of coemptio, to divest them of their agnates (Gaius

Inst. 2.112).24

Before the 2nd century BC, women began to marry without manus, gaining greater independence, and enabling them to remain legally in their natal family.25 However, the woman was part of a separate family network from her children, and if she failed to make a will, the unmodified intestate rules excluded her own children from inheritance until the

Senatusconsultum Orphitianum in AD 178, which put children first in order of succession to their mothers.26 This is a very late acknowledgment of the difficulty created by marriage without manus. Those married without manus must have hitherto felt pressure to write wills.

In the late Republic, tutela perpetua ceased to be dominated by agnates, and women attained greater financial freedom. Women could choose a congenial tutor (optio tutoris), available as early as 186 BC (Livy 39.19.5: Hispala Faecenia). These arrangements are not recorded to be a direct result of female pressure, but appear to have suited males. Frequent male absences on provincial and military duties resulting from the growth in Roman power could explain the authorising of greater female independence. In the empire, Augustus conditionally broadened freedom from tutela through granting the ius trium liberorum to freeborn women with three children, and a similar concession to freedwomen with four children, born subsequent to manumission.27 Some grants were even awarded to childless couples (Dio 55.2.5-6). This linear development shows that women were gaining standing, and that women wanted the

24 Watson (1971a) 22-23; (1971b) 103; Dixon (1984) 346.

25 Watson (1967) 25; Treggiari (1991) 32-36.

26 Meinhart (1967); Gardner (1998) 231.

27 For the full scope of the ius liberorum: McGinn (1998a) 76-78. For the moral message of the Augustan legislation: Severy-Hoven and Ramsby (2007) 43-44; Milnor (2007) 9-10.

new freedom. Agnatic tutelage was finally abolished in the age of Claudius (Gaius Inst.

1.157), and Hadrian abolished the need for a woman to undergo a coemptio before making a will, but retained the need for the consent of a tutor, if there was one (Gaius Inst. 1.115a). By this stage, tutorial supervision was virtually obsolete.

By the end of the Republic, Roman women had a right to manage their own affairs under diminishing supervision. The day to day operation of the new arrangements is less clear.

Cooley has recently suggested that rising financial independence helps to explain the prominence of elite women as benefactors at Rome and elsewhere in Italy during the early imperial period.28 As Foxhall points out, high status women were able to overcome some of the disabilities inherent in standard gendered expectations.29 Elite women followed patterns of patronage initiated in the Augustan period by Octavia and Livia.30

The control of wealth and display: sumptuary legislation

During the Hannibalic wars, in 215 BC, the tribune Gaius Oppius passed a law restricting women’s expenditures.31 In this dark period, after Cannae, Rome was threatened by

Hannibal. The sumptuary rules of the Lex Oppia affected elite women, regulating dress in brightly coloured clothing, possession of more than half an ounce of gold, and the use of horse-drawn vehicles in and near Rome (Livy 34.1.3; Val. Max. 9.1.3; Zon. 9.17.1-4). The measures enforced a level of austerity suited to war conditions; they might suggest that

Roman women were unwilling contributors to the war effort, and inclined to disregard the situation, or opposed to the Senatorial approach to ransoming survivors of Cannae (Livy

28 Cooley (2013) 26-28.

29 Foxhall (2013) 90.

30 Woodhull (2003); (2004).

31 For the testimonia: Rotondi (1912) 254.

22.55; 60-61). 32 The Senate needed money and resources for the war effort. After the war, despite the advent of money and booty, Cato and other conservatives argued that luxury, especially Greek indulgences, would sap Roman resilience against future foes, and insisted on retaining restrictions (Polyb. 31.25.4-5).33 Awareness of external threats was commonly promoted as beneficial to Roman morality, requiring regulation of both social and political behaviour.34 The measures in 215 BC did not involve wholesale confiscation of items for the war, but related to display and morale under conditions of war.35 Nevertheless, the Senate had been forced to double taxes early in 215 BC (Livy 33.31.1), and economic distress was a parallel issue. The measures would particularly affect the public face of elite women, and restrict their capacity to interfere in political affairs.36 Although the evidence is thin, continued restrictions could indicate the growing strength of women’s voices regarding political issues, and also the state’s desire to curb their impact.

Ownership of the gold and other trappings, worn on religious occasions, and in religious rituals, was not exclusively in female hands. In 210 BC, senatorial husbands voluntarily contributed gold and silver, but retained a residue for themselves and their womenfolk (Livy

26.36.5-8). Some Roman women were loaned ornaments to participate in religious rituals appropriate to their standing. Similar finery was displayed before the Punic wars. When the

Celts invaded in 390 BC, women are said to have contributed valuables, including jewellery, to pay the Gallic ransom (Livy 5.50.7; Diod. 14.115.3-116; Plut. Camillus 8; Cic. De Orat.

2.44). After the disaster at Metaurus in 207 BC, women’s dowries were subjected to

32 On the impact of the war against Hannibal: Fantham et al. (1994) 260.

33 Edwards (1993) 176-177.

34 Zanda (2011) 9.

35 Culham (1982) 786-793; Zanda (2011) 5.

36 Culham (1982); Culham (1986); Culham (2004) 146.

contribution to fund a golden bowl to propitiate Juno through an expiatory rite, in the face of a hostile omen (the lightning strike on the Aventine temple of Juno Regina)(Livy 27.38.1).37

The expiation was deemed successful after Roman victory (Livy 27.51.8-10). Even before the major explosion of growth, female wealth already had status as a resource subject to exploitation, perhaps employed here as a check on female resistance to military plans.

Contemporary evidence in Plautus reflects the impact of elite wealth on dowries (Aulularia

498-550: c. 200 BC).38 Plautus presents the viewpoint of Megadorus, a bachelor misogynist, who outlines the disadvantages of a rich wife, conscious of the power of her dowry. He advocates marriage without dowry, to avoid the demands of a dowered bride. He imagines a difficult wife pressing entitlement to luxuries including purple, gold, carriages, and supporting staff, demands exceeding his net worth. The exaggerated claim that a dowered bride brought no net benefit to her husband must be unfounded, but reflects unease over female financial independence and visibility. A comic scene is generated where the husband is besieged by creditors seeking payment.

Polybius reveals actual female wealth in the generation following the Punic war when he highlights the generosity of Scipio Aemilianus, detailing the management of wealth in that family (Polyb. 31.26-28). The figures for dowries and inheritances foreground the level of elite wealth after the Second Punic war.39 He also reveals desirable accessories required by an elite woman for social interaction with her peers.

37 Boyce (1937) 168.

38 Fantham et al. (1994) 261.

39 Dixon (1985b) for full analysis.

Scipio Aemilianus was the adoptive grandson of Scipio Africanus major, whose widow,

Aemilia, had died in 162 BC. Aemilia was Aemilianus’ aunt – his father’s sister (Polyb.

31.26.1). He was in fact the son of L. Aemilius Paullus, the hero of Pydna, and of Papiria, whom Paullus later divorced, at a date before 181 BC, after she produced two sons. Paullus allowed the adoption of these two sons, making way for his new family, but, by 167 BC, his second family was dead. One son from his first family had gone to the Fabii, while

Aemilianus had been adopted by Paullus’ first cousin, P. Cornelius Scipio. Aemilianus’ adoption, a typical close kin arrangement, exhibits the ulterior motive of maintaining family resources and political connections.40 Nevertheless, the adoptees as heirs had unfettered control over dispersal of those resources.

On the death of Aemilia, Aemilianus, as heir, bettered the position of his natural mother,

Papiria. He had already gained his adoptive father’s estate. Papiria, divorced by Paullus some twenty years previously, was comparatively financially disadvantaged, and could not appear with suitable jewellery at major religious events in a style commensurate with her son’s status. Aemilianus now handed on Aemilia’s ceremonial trappings to Papiria (Polyb.

31.26.3). Papiria gained social kudos, and Papiria’s raised status enhanced her son’s political persona. Aemilianus’ reputation grew as news of his generosity spread through female networks (Polyb. 31.26.10). Aemilianus thus used his newly acquired wealth to support his mother’s visibility, and to assist his own political situation.

The earlier will of Africanus major in about 184 BC reveals the extensive resources available to such wealthy families. Aemilia and Aemilianus were the heirs, and each daughter was to be granted a dowry of fifty talents (equivalent to HS 1,200,000) – itself a senatorial census.

Substantial resources were directed to the women as well as the men. These daughters - one

40 Lindsay (2009a) 147-150.

of whom was Cornelia, the future mother of the Gracchi - in due course married, and Aemilia gave each girl twenty five talents at the time of marriage; the balance was paid in full by

Aemilianus on the death of Aemilia in 162 BC – marshalling the enormous resources required in a short time (Polyb. 31.27). 41 These splendid dowries ensured significant husbands for the recipients, and consolidated powerful networks in the next generation.

Within two years (160 BC), Aemilianus’ natural father Aemilius Paullus died, leaving

Aemilianus and his brother Fabius Maximus Aemilianus as heirs; Aemilianus ceded to his brother the entire sixty talents, for a lavish gladiatorial show at the time of Aemilius’ funeral.

This was no selfless act; it would reinvigorate his reputation for generosity, and advertise his links with another successful family. Almost immediately, his mother, Papiria, died, and he passed on her inherited paraphernalia to his sisters (Polyb. 31.28.1-8). This generational change shows the importance of supporting the family’s public image. Women’s participation in religious ceremonies was a crucial aspect of this.42

The financial arrangements of the Scipios only hint at the overall picture. By 195 BC, the austerity measures of 215 BC must have seemed increasingly irrelevant. A proposal was mooted to abrogate the Lex Oppia.43 Livy provides a version of polarised speeches by the tribunes, M. Fundanius and L. Valerius; these rhetorical speeches, and the relationship of the originals to Livy’s dramatization of the occasion, is contentious (Livy 34.1-7).44 Livy’s report

41 Dowry payments were made over a three year period, apparently showing when the marriages took place (i.e. three years before Aemilianus made the final payment): Polyb. 32.13. 1-3. It is interesting to observe that this method of spreading the financial burden over a three year period was also in operation under the Tudors and

Stuarts: Harris (2002) 49.

42 This form of conspicuous consumption did have a political aim: Fantham et al. (1994) 262.

43 The Law is mainly known from its repeal: Fantham et al. (1994) 261.

44 Mastrorosa (2006) 590-592, with extensive bibliography at 591 n. 5.

is either accurate, or an Augustan age analysis of the legislation. Livy’s emphasis on the measure as economic could reflect more recent experience of the function of sumptuary measures.45

Livy apologises for including the Lex Oppia debate, but argues for its importance because of the polarisation of the political factions (Livy 34.1).46 The issue of women lobbying to secure political benefits was the ostensible controversy, but the opposing (male) sides in that debate took the limelight. The political issues returned to the preserve of male infighting, and two unnamed opposing tribunes withdrew their veto, not before outraged women had poured into

Rome from neighbouring areas (Livy 34.8.1-3). Livy gives us Cato’s speech in favour of retaining the law, and the reply of, L. Valerius, who originally promoted the rogatio.47 He pictures the women agitating on the Capitol about their subordinate status, claiming slave- like treatment, and insisting on relaxation of the Oppian restrictions. Livy considers it a disgraceful public display by the matronae, who act outside the auctoritas of their husbands, and have given up any pretence of modesty (Livy 34.1.1.5), predictable criticism of female participation in Senatorial business.48 Clearly, the episode did result in a major revolt by women in an attempt to influence proceedings in the Senate.49

45 Culham (1982) 786-787.

46 On the political polarisation: Scullard (1973) 113-114; Dixon (2007) 9. Livy does not deal with the promulgation of the law in 215 BC: Hemelrijk (1987) 218.

47 For doubts about Cato’s speech: Scullard (1973) 257.

48 Hemelrijk (1987) 218; Boatwright (2011) 116.

49 Hemelrijk (1987) 228, who differentiates the episode from the mythical purely patriotic interventions by the

Sabine women and Veturia. Now the emphasis is on female prestige, and on keeping or regaining rights.

Cato’s argument interprets the women’s actions as political, comparable to a plebeian secession, and regards the behaviour of matronae as a subversion of their gender.50 Cato’s approach (mediated by Livy) has affinities with gender roles promoted by Augustus, and

Livy’s Cato appears influenced by Augustan debates on suitable female decorum.51 Perhaps

Livy thought that Augustan emphases were particularly compatible with Cato’s conservatism

(Suet. Aug.34.1; Dio 54.16.3-5). Livy sees the Oppian protests as symbols of decline and decadence, contrasting the golden age of tutela, imposed by the ancestors, when women were subject to their paterfamilias, brothers (as agnates), or husbands (emphasising their subordinate position in manus marriage). In contrast to this ideal, they were now involved in affairs in the forum, contiones (such as the meeting on the Capitol), and comitia (Livy

34.2.11; 34.2.14). This analysis perhaps typified the views of disapproving observers from

Livy’s generation who had lived through the triumviral period and witnessed some of the female roles under investigation.

Cato’s rhetorical speech predicts the overthrow of the entire legal system, insisting that a minority group such as women cannot be catered for (Livy 34.3.4-5).52 In Livy’s digest, Cato

- a renowned supporter of sumptuary legislation - claims that to abrogate the Oppian law would be the equivalent of a military defeat (Livy 34.3.9). Further, the Lex Oppia should crush rivalry between women of disparate status, and help to bind them together (Livy

34.4.14); he also insists on maintaining the dependence of wives on husbands (Livy 34.4.16-

18). Patriarchal control of financial and moral behaviour is used to justify his stand. He

50 Hallett (1989) 61 on Livy’s account of Cato’s view of women as other: an ‘untamed animal of violent nature’

(impotenti naturae et indomito animali).

51 Milnor (2005) 158-185; Mastrorosa (2006) 596; Larsson Lovén (1998) 85-95.

52 Mastrorosa (2006) 599.

engages in a rear-guard action in defence of mos maiorum. Sumptuary legislation was associated in Roman male thought with controlling degenerate luxuries, which would emasculate males, and Cato’s disapproval of female display is conditioned by this doctrine.53

Valerius concentrates on justifying the abrogation (Livy 34.5.4). He argues that Cato has attacked women as a class, rather than confronting the proposal itself. He accuses Cato of inciting sedition, emphasising the importance of previous female financial interventions at significant watersheds in Roman history, particularly during the Second Punic war (Livy

34.5.8-10). This underlines that women had previously worked together as a group in times of crisis, despite their lack of an acknowledged political voice. Valerius argues against making the extraordinary legislation permanent and responds to Cato’s point about suppressing rivalry between women of different statuses, emphasising the separate rules for women in Latin communities (Livy 34.6.1-6.; 7.5-6), and pointing out that Roman men got different treatment (34.7.2-3). A parting shot is that refusal will diminish Roman male authority over their wives (34.7.14-15).54 The women’s appeal has been argued to have been supported by their husbands.55 After further pressure from the women following the speech of

Valerius, the tribunes withdrew their threatened veto (Livy (34.8.1). Livy still sees female interventions as unseemly, and emphasises that the main issues were settled in the Senate.

Valerius finishes by arguing that Roman women have their own insignia (munditiae et ornatus et cultus, elegance, display and style), and lay aside this finery at times of mourning; as he builds to his climax, he points out that their role has been compromised by the continued implementation of the Oppian law, which undermines their capacity for ritually

53 Zanda (2011) 4.

54 Hemelrijk points out that Valerius is ‘patronising but friendly’ towards the women: (1987) 219.

55 Scullard (1973) 113; Pomeroy (1975) 180; Culham (1982) 792.

approved mourning procedures. They cannot create the necessary contrasts in their demeanour.

Erker has investigated the importance of mourning by elite women in Roman society, and their need for access to ritually appropriate mourning apparel. Their male counterparts dispensed with their insignia of office during mourning, so it was fitting that women too should dress down in keeping with this. These acts of purification were undertaken by

Romans as part of the cycle of healing following a death in the family.56

Valerius’ speech does little to show that Roman women came out of the repeal of the Lex

Oppia with a greatly enhanced status. They had traditionally worked as a group without an acknowledged political role, behind the scenes at times of crisis, and on this occasion were extremely vocal. Although Valerius delivers the more reasonable argument, Livy reveals his sympathy with the conservatism of Cato. In the end, the conclusive decision was made by males in a male political forum, but women protesting about male decisions have been thought to have influenced the working of the factional system (Livy 34.8). Events had shown that increasing wealth was creating pressures on the previous status quo.

The suppression of the Bacchanalia in 186 BC: women in religion and the impact of gender on the ban

The suppression of alien religions was quite rare in Rome. Just a few years before the

Bacchanalian suppression, the Romans introduced the cult of the Phrygian goddess Cybele

(Magna Mater) (203 BC), and other external religions were authorised both before and after that date. Bacchic worship itself had long been established in Italy.

56 Erker (2004) 264-265. On the jewels: Kunst (2005). The funeral: Lindsay (2000) 166-167.

Roman men and women of various classes were prominent in the Bacchanalian episode. The suppression of a major cult involving the participation of Roman women attracts attention, and begs questions about contemporary social conditions.57 Most of the women charged in the aftermath were dealt with by their own kinsmen, but the episode shows growing

Senatorial interest in areas hitherto controlled by family.58

The so-called Senatus consultum de Bacchanalibus was discovered at Tirioli in south Italy in

1640, inscribed on a bronze sheet.59 The find-spot, between Locri and Croton, is identified from the inscription as Ager Teuranus in Bruttium, and the text is dated October 7, 186 BC.60

The Senatorial decree limited Bacchanalia throughout Italy, unless individually exempted by the Senate.61 Bacchanalia are defined as places of Bacchic worship. The decree affected the lives of those implicated in the cult, but did not solely target Roman women. The inscription supplements the account of Livy, who provides a dramatic account of the ban (Livy 39.8-19).

The inscription provides a digest of one or more of the series of Senatus Consulta discussed by Livy.62

57 For women as inevitable scapegoats with perceived illegitimate power: Edwards (1993) 44.

58 Fantham et al. (1994) 264.

59 CIL I2 581=ILS 18: today housed in the Kunsthistorisches Museum in Vienna.

60 Equivalent to June 11 in the Julian Calendar: Bauman (1990) 339.

61 Livy mentions a Senatus Consultum followed by and edict of the consuls (Livy 39.17.4). One theory considers the edict directed at local non-Roman magistrates: Bispham. (2007) 120, but it has also been suggested by Perri that the Ager Teuranus was ager publicus and not an allied community: http://www.basilioperri.net/aggiornamentiupdate/56-the-addressees-of-the-so-called-senatus-consultum-de- bacchanalibus.html

62 So Bispham (2007) 91.

Livy names major participants in the drama, and accurately reflects the Tirioli inscription.

The Bacchanalian conspiracy (probably revealed during 187 BC) is introduced within Livy’s annalistic structure with inauguration of the new consuls for 186 BC (taking office on 15

March).63 Both consuls were assigned the task of suppressing a secret and seditious conspiracy (Livy 39.8).64

Despite the long history of Bacchic worship in Italy, changes appear to have post-dated the

Second Punic War. Livy refers to the appearance in Etruria of an unnamed Greek priest and oracle-monger, who initiated greater secrecy in the cult and conducted meetings at night.65

Initiation rites were originally for few and female candidates, but had now spread amongst men and women. Popularity was raised by the centrality of drinking and eating. Depravity followed, as immorality spread: their crimes included rape under the guise of initiation, perjured testimony, forged wills, poisoning, and murder (Livy 39.8). The changes to the membership and activities of the cult spread from Etruria to Rome, and came to the notice of the consul Postumius (Livy 39.9). Hispala Faecenia’s testimony produced more details of how the changes came about.

Livy relates the saga of Publius Aebutius, whose deceased equestrian father had served in the cavalry (equo publico).66 Aebutius was subjected to tutelage, but his tutors had died; he was cared for by his mother, Duronia, and his tutelage fell to his stepfather, Titus Sempronius

63 Bauman (1990) 339.

64 Since the consuls were not assigned military and provincial duties in this year, the praetors became their substitutes, and had an extended military role: Bauman (1990) 335.

65 Cicero, influenced by this change, recommended a ban on nocturnal sacrifices by women in his ideal state

(Leg. 2.35-37).

66 Wiseman (1970) 67—83.

Rutilus. The drama unfolds on the Aventine.67 The (wicked) stepfather had been embezzling his stepson’s patrimony and wanted to kill or manipulate him to conceal deficient accounts.

Duronia, to help her husband, claimed to have vowed to initiate her son in the Bacchic cult, if

Aebutius recovered from an illness. Initiation required a period of purification/sexual abstinence (ten days), followed by ritual purification before the ceremony. Enter Hispala

Faecenia, neighbour of Aebutius on the Aventine, a freedwoman and prostitute who had sought him out, treated him kindly, and subsidised him when his family refused. She had no designs on her lover’s property, and had already written her own will in Aebutius’ favour.68

Hispala resembles a stereotype from Plautine comedy –a questionable character, performing above her actual status (Livy 39.9: scortum nobile, a notorious prostitute).69

Aebutius and Hispala exchanged confidences. He mentioned the requirement for sexual abstinence, and she pressed to find out why. She was horrified when he revealed his imminent initiation in Bacchanalian rites, and insisted that the stepfather was trying to destroy his reputation. She knew about the cult. While still a slave, she had been initiated along with her mistress. The place was a hotbed of vice, and the initiation ceremony involved brutalising sex acts. Moreover, for two years nobody over twenty had been initiated, to ensure the perpetuation of the cycle of vice. Hispala begged him to stay away (Livy 39.10).

Aebutius refused to comply with his mother’s requirements. She claimed that he was unduly influenced by Hispala. He was driven from home, taking four slaves with him. He went to

67 Mignone (2016) 100-107.

68 Not commented on by McGinn (1998a) 88-89; but it appears that after her patron’s death she was granted a tutor by the magistrate, which may explain how a former prostitute could get permission to write a will (Livy

39.9.7).

69 Some of the unusual inversions of roles in the story: Langlands (2006) 115-116. For Plautus: Scafuro (1989); resemblance to aspects of Cicero on the Catilinarian conspiracy: Nousek (2010).

stay with his aunt, Aebutia. She advised him to report next day to the consul, Postumius.

Postumius in turn told him to return in two days, and meantime consulted his mother-in-law,

Sulpicia, to confirm the status and character of Aebutia. Postumius then got her to send for

Aebutia – a presumably typical interchange between elite women. Their relationship may have developed through attending the same religious events. Aebutia told of how Aebutius’ assets had been filched, and of his ejection for refusing to be initiated (Livy 39.11).

Next, Postumius asked to see Hispala. She was frightened by the hierarchy. He pumped her for information about the rites in the Lucus Stimulae; she explained her own initiation while a slave, and her current avoidance of the grove on or close to the Aventine.70 Postumius kept pressing Hispala, who denied detailed knowledge, vented anger against Aebutius, and asked for protective custody. She related that a Campanian, Pacula Annia, had made radical changes to the cult;71 the rites were originally limited to women, with married women acting as priestesses, taking turns. Three days per year were set aside for initiations. Pacula initiated her own sons, Minius and Herennius Cerinnius, the first males, one of whom was later found to be a ringleader, introduced nocturnal meetings, and increased the days for initiation to five per month.72 Once men mingled with women, crimes abounded. Hispala also revealed that male on male assaults were commoner than those on women. Anyone who refused soon became a sacrificial victim. Importantly, those committing the unseemly acts included male and female members of the nobility. Large numbers had been initiated in the last two years,

70 On the Lucus Stimulae and the debate over its precise location: de Cazanove (1983), locating the grove near the Ara Maxima and the Circus Maximus, not far from the Forum Boarium: Pailler (1988) 115-119; Coarelli,

LTUR s.v. Stimula, Lucus.

71 Note the wide geographical distribution of the cult.

72 The cult seems to have grown stronger hold in the south of Italy, perhaps precisely because the innovations began in Campania: Bauman (1990) 340.

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but nobody over twenty had been admitted (Livy 39.12-13).73 Livy emphasises the perversion of normal religious ritual, and presents Hispala as the key to exposing alterations to the cult.74

Because of this, the consul Postumius asked Sulpicia to satisfy Hispala’s requirement for asylum.

Livy’s narrative reveals the good pedigree and disrupted family of Aebutius. Duronia’s pledge to initiate her son in the Bacchanalian cult, and involvement in the cult, shows that some members, including possibly Hispala’s mistress, who made her an unwilling initiate, had status. The cult, as described in 186 BC, seems to disregard both status considerations, and questions of separation of the sexes.

Postumius brought the matter before the Senate, which was concerned that the secret meetings might lead to a major disturbance, and about the involvement of people of

Senatorial status. The consuls were authorised to make inquiries, to assure the safety of

Aebutius and Hispala, and offer rewards to others to come forward. Priests, male or female, were to be tracked down both in Rome and outside, and edicts were sent all over Italy forbidding meetings and ceremonies. Those who had conspired to commit immoral acts were hunted down (Livy 39.14).75

Livy supplies consular speeches, which remind people of the traditional gods – rather than foreign ones - while admitting the long history of Bacchic rites in Italy. He emphasises their recent popularity in Rome, and the change in scale and morality; he identifies the troublemakers as mostly women, but also effeminate males, and enthusiasts for sexual

73 This seems to provide us with the date of Pacula Annia’s innovations, c. 188 BC: Bauman (1990) 338.

74 Langlands (2006) 118.

75 Bauman (1990) 335.

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games.76 The cult’s numerical strength and the encouragement of young men in effeminate behaviour represent a political threat. Livy underlines the Roman male view that sexual passivity is an undesirable feature in potential Roman soldiers, and calculates that the cult will render these young male initiates unusable (Livy 39.15).77 So far, crimes are directed against individuals, but the criminal conspiracy and its scale represents a threat to the state

(Livy 39.16).

The remainder of Livy’s narrative deals with the suppression. Senatorial decrees were read out, and rewards announced for informers. Panic spread rapidly. Over seven thousand men and women were implicated, captured, and punished. (Livy 39.17). Centres of Bacchic worship throughout Italy were demolished. Ancient shrines dedicated to the god were exempted. Thereafter, all rites were forbidden by Senatorial decree, although the urban praetor could authorise exemptions on limited grounds (Livy 39.18). Punishments were determined for the ringleaders. Minius Cerrinius was to be imprisoned at Ardea, and

Aebutius and Faecenia Hispala were granted extensive rewards, including 100,000 HS.

Aebutius was exempted from compulsory military service, while Hispala was given free disposition of her property, permission to marry outside her gens, capacity to choose her own tutor, and permission to marry a free-born man, without any loss of status for this man.78 Her

76 Bauman suggests Livy has been influenced here by the anti-feminism of Cato’s perished speech on the

Bacchanalian affair, De Coniuratione (ibid). However, Pacula Annia is specifically identified as the reformer.

77 On the divergence of Roman views on male sexuality: Parker (1997). Notice that Livy did not think that these young men could ever be retrieved.

78 Under later Augustan legislation, prostitutes could not enter citizen marriages, although freedmen were not so restricted. A person marrying a prostitute under the Republic would normally fall under censorial ignominia.

Faecenia obtains exemption from ignominia for her prospective spouse: McGinn (1998a) 86-89.

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future security was safeguarded. These rewards demonstrate some of the restrictions normally placed on the lives of people of Hispala’s status, and desirable benefits.

The inscriptional evidence identifies the activities targeted by Senatorial measures. The stipulations reveal that the Greek origin of the cult was not under attack. The consular decree, issued to communities worshipping Bacchus (De Bacchanalibus quei foederati esent), enumerated detailed provisions. The measures aimed to stop Bacchic worship as completely as possible because of the recent changes to the cult’s internal structure. Sincere and authentic belief enabled the praetor and the Senate to review individual cases. The strongest measures aimed to prevent males from joining the cult, probably an attack on any process resulting in Roman youth being effeminised.79 Those targeted were potential recruits for the

Roman army, and the crackdown suggest that the current shape of the Bacchanalian cult was thought to ruin young men who had been initiated (Livy 39.15.13-14).

The structure of the cult was a fundamental problem. An absolute ban was placed on men holding the priesthood within the cult. Neither sex could establish an internal administrative structure, in particular by organising a common fund. Internal secret agreements were deemed not only illegal, but probably entered into under duress from the hierarchy. No large groups would be approved. This last measure targeted the forging of wills: a mancipatory will demanded five witnesses, as well as the testator and a libripens.80 The main thrust of the consular edict is legal and executive and does not outline the ills that it is designed to remedy.

Unlike Livy’s narrative, with its emphasis on the abuse of a religious structure in the pursuit of criminality, focus is not on the social and moral problems generated by the secret society.

79 Williams (1999) 67; 74: not seen as a specifically Greek feature of the Bacchanalia.

80 Bauman (1990) 343.

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The suppression of the cult reveals pressures within Roman society after the Second Punic war.81 According to Livy, women had a major role in reshaping the cult. The cult as modified by Pacula Annia, employed her own sons as leaders, and recruited further males.

The frequent meetings attracted diverse members of society, ranging from slaves and ex- slave stock, such as Hispala Faecenia, through to elite men and women, mentioned by Livy

(39.14). Aebutius never reached membership of the cult, but Livy implies that his equestrian status was not unusual. The growth of the cult suggests that Roman women were expanding their social circles in the early 2nd century BC.

Religious associations introduced opportunities for women to exert power, both organisational and financial. Novel features, such as Pacula Annia’s influence over reshaping the cult, upset the authorities. The frequent meetings, involving both sexes, had potential to undermine the Roman family’s authority over moral behaviour, and a woman at the top of a hierarchy including males upset conventional notions. This threatened the power of the paterfamilias, already under some attack through the increasing popularity of marriage without manus.82

The cult subverted normal hierarchies though providing access for both sexes, and its process of initiation involved distortions of accepted protocol. The organisation, run by a Campanian, represented a cross-section of Italian society; both men and women could participate, without restriction on status. This promiscuous mix of people represented a greater threat than had been posed in an earlier age by the Struggle of the Orders.83 Livy puts into Postumius’ mouth a speech on the effect of initiating young men by subjecting them to sexual humiliation (Livy

81 Rüpke (2007) 31-33 suggests that xenophobia was a major motive.

82 Beard, North, and Price (1998) 96.

83 Langlands (2006) 117.

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39.15). Female control over this organisation is a plausible reason for the authorities to take exception to the cult, especially in the aftermath of the Hannibalic campaigns. The potential threat to manpower can explain the intervention.

Attempts to restrict the capacity of Roman women to inherit: the Lex Voconia 169 BC

Rules of inheritance were another important contested area related to gender equity at Rome.

After 200 BC, manpower losses in warfare placed women in a favourable position to inherit.84 All Roman males with testamentary capacity were eligible beneficiaries under a will. A slave liberated under a will acquired eligibility. In addition, those under the power of another (alieni iuris), under curatorship (whether insane or prodigal), and under age

(impuberes) could accept or reject an inheritance with permission from their father, curator, or tutor, as appropriate. A woman was eligible, if she was legally independent.85 The Lex

Voconia placed some checks on this.

Cato is said to have been a strong advocate of the Voconian law (Cic. De Senectute 14).86

Aulus Gellius claims that Cato thought that women should have restricted capacity to take under a will, because some women who entered marriages without manus with large dowries also possessed large inheritances which they kept from their husbands (NA 17.6.1.1; cf.

Plautus Aulularia 498-550) – Cato seems opposed to financial independence within marriage.

The legislation specifically targeted elite women. After the tribune, Q. Voconius Saxa, passed the Lex Voconia of 169 BC, a woman could not be instituted heir under a will to an estate

84 Hallett (1984) 93.

85 A woman could only make a will, with the consent of her tutor, if sui iuris and if she had undergone capitis deminutio: Watson [1971a] 22-23; Gardner [1986] 165-169. In contrast, women, if sui iuris, could inherit by will or otherwise: Thomas (1976) 486-489; Gardner (1986) 166.

86 Astin (1978) 113; ORF4 156-160 (Malcovati).

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worth more than 100,000 HS, nor could she get a legacy greater than the share obtained by the heir or heirs (Cicero Verr. 2.1.106-108; Gaius Inst. 2.226). Those excluded were wealthy: the centuries of the first census class in the comitia centuriata. The Lex Voconia also dealt with exhausting an estate through the extent of the legacies, and leaving nothing substantial for the heir. This had already been subject of the earlier Lex Furia Testamentaria.87 The

Voconian legislation restricted a woman to half of the inheritance in the form of a legacy.88

Gaius discusses the relationship of the Lex Voconia to earlier and later law, especially to the

Lex Falcidia (40 BC), which required at least one quarter of the whole to remain for the heir after legacies had been settled (Gaius Inst. 2.224-227). Beforehand, an heir might be deprived of any incentive to take the estate once the legacies were accounted for - a longstanding problem at Rome, according to Cicero (Leg. 2.52).89

Cicero complained of other matters; because of the Voconian legislation, under his will, he could not give his own daughter more than a restricted amount, but under intestacy a daughter was not subject to the same restriction. The law contained other provisions, unfair to women, and advantageous to men. Cicero endorses female financial security (cur enim pecuniam non habeat mulier? For why should a woman not have money?), and raises the injustice that a

Vestal Virgin could nominate an heir, unlike her mother (Re Publica 3.17).90 The De Re

Publica dates from soon after his return from exile in 57 BC and he voices continuing concerns over this legislation in his later work.

87 Rotondi (1912) 282-283 dates it before the Lex Voconia, but after the Lex Cincia of 204 BC; for its known provisions: Baltrusch (1989) 70; cf. Wallace-Hadrill (1981) 70.

88 Hopwood (2009) 143.

89 Astin (1978) 114.

90 Watson (1971a) 176.

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Cicero also reports a case where a testator attempted to evade the Voconian law.91 Q. Fadius

Gallus made P. Sextilius Rufus his heir provided that he transferred his estate back to his daughter. This fideicommissum was entirely opposed to the spirit of the law, and Rufus did not disclose the testamentary terms to his acquaintance (according to Cicero, Rufus openly denied his obligation to the deceased). The testator felt duty-bound to do his best for his daughter, but Rufus claimed himself bound by the Voconian law, much to his advantage (De

Fin. 2.55). Rather later, the jurist Gaius, in the age of the Antonines, could claim that fideicommissa were normal.92 Cicero was present at the discussions over the case of Fadius

Gallus in his youth, but had clear reservations when he wrote De Finibus in 45 BC.

Cicero reveals that the Lex Voconia aimed to curb the amount of property falling into the hands of women.93 It has been argued that Roman males did not like females in the role of heir because of the responsibility of the heir for the sacra, but a female could equally easily become heir through intestacy.94 The Voconian law could only be partly effective, since it did not cover intestacy. The assumption was that intestacy was abnormal in the case of significant estates. Conservatives, including Cato, were behind the law, and apparently could not contemplate so radical a result as the repeal of the provision of the Twelve Tables relating to intestate estates. The issue had arisen because of the great increase in elite wealth from the

91 Dixon (1985a); cf. Hallett (1984) 96 for the further case of P. Annius Asellus and his evasion of the legislation.

92 First legally authorised under Augustus: Johnston (1988) 9.

93 Previous interpretations are canvassed by Vigneron (1983).

94 Sirks (1994) 273-296.

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wars of expansion, and its distribution to heirs.95 Astin suggests that the decline in manus marriage also resulted in greater and earlier access to wealth for Roman women.96 At the time of Cato’s speech in 169 BC, a woman’s dependence on tutelage had already been much modified. Cato’s measure appears to have been commonly circumvented, but became irrelevant in the Augustan age.

Changes to the law of inheritance under Augustus: impact on women

There is little consensus concerning the precise aims of the Augustan social legislation, although Augustus promoted his legislation in a speech reminding the people of the speech of

Metellus Maceeonicus as censor in 131/130 BC on raising larger families (Suet. Aug. 89.5).97

The Augustan matrimonial legislation contained in the Lex de maritandis ordinibus of 18 BC, supplemented and modified by the Lex Papia Poppaea of AD 9, represented a major state intrusion into a previously private domain.98 Significant penalties were avoided through compliance.

Certain marriages were legally prohibited. A senator could not marry a freedwoman, or a woman whose parents had been actors, nor could descendants as far as the third generation

(D. 23.2.44 pr). These status-related prohibitions also applied further down the social scale where legitimate unions between lesser freeborn males and prostitutes, actresses, adulteresses and certain other disgraced females were declared taboo (Ulpian Tituli 13.2). Bouché-

95 Dixon (1985b) 150, on the rarity of details of elite wealth such as in the case of the family of Scipio

Aemilianus (Polyb. 31.26-28).

96 Astin (1978) 115.

97 Raditsa (1980) surveys the disparate views.

98 Treggiari (1991) 77-79.

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Leclercq suggested that hitherto senators were free to legitimate children by concubines of ex-slave status by adopting them.99 Prohibited unions were punished by the removal of the right to receive some testamentary inheritances – they had to be within the sixth degree of blood relationship (Ulpian Tituli 16.2).100 Rights under intestacy were not affected.101 The aim seems to be to prevent caelibes from benefiting from bequests from outside the family.102

Men, aged 25-60, and women, aged 20-50, had to marry and have three or more children to acquire full eligibility to receive inheritances.103 Discounts applied to those with fewer children. In the case of freedwomen, the requirement was increased to four children. The unmarried in the specified age groups were debarred from taking under a will. The married but childless could only take half their entitlement. Some childless couples were granted an exemption under the ius trium liberorum by the emperor. The biographer Suetonius obtained the privilege, aged about 40 (c. AD 111) through Pliny (Plin. Ep. 10.95).

Some women could lose their inheritance rights for behavioural reasons. Infamia would result in disqualification from inheritance.104 Ineligible beneficiaries, such as the femina probrosa, forfeited their shares to heirs who met the requirements, failing that to eligible legatees, and, in the last resort, the estate went to the aerarium. The penalty system continued to operate until the reign of Constantine. A major result of the Augustan laws must have been to override the provisions of the Lex Voconia.105 The impact of the changes was primarily to

99 (1895) 258-259 – not capable of proof.

100 Wallace-Hadrill underlines the breadth of this exception: (1981) 62-63

101 Bouché-Leclercq (1895) 262; McGinn (1998a) 72-73.

102 Bouché-Leclercq (1895) 263.

103 For a good summary: McGinn (1998a) 72-78; Hopwood (2009) 143.

104 Levick (1983) 108-110.

105 Bouché-Leclercq (1895) 273-274; Wallace-Hadrill (1981) 65.

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require all beneficiaries of inheritances to work within the Augustan ideal of building family values. The reforms imply reaction to family structures in the late Republic.

The Augustan legislation on adultery

The official approach to adultery in the age of Augustus also has implications for our understanding of the situation in the late Republic. The legislation on adultery was part of a larger emphasis on moral reform, which targeted themes from an idealised past, and responded to claims made in the late Republic that women played an important part in the breakdown in civil order.106 The Lex Iulia de Adulteriis Coercendis of 18 BC classified adultery as a crime addressed by the state through a standing court (quaestio). Hitherto the family, under the guidance of the paterfamilias and the consilium domesticum, was regulated through a process of self-help.107 At the time of Bacchanalian scandal in 186 BC, convicted women were returned to the family for discipline; women married with manus were dealt with by their husbands (Livy 39.18.6). In the Republic, the consequences of adultery included divorce and the loss of all or part of the woman’s dowry. Serious cases could attract attention from the censor, or end up in the hands of the aediles, and be dealt with in the iudicia publica.108 The Augustan legislation had devastating consequences for the standing of those convicted.

Double standards operated in Roman society regarding adultery and criminal fornication

(stuprum). Stuprum is defined in the Digest as an offence committed against a virgin or a widow, whereas adultery was an offence against a married woman (D. 48.5.6.1). Stuprum

106 Edwards (1993) 37-47.

107 Richlin (2014a) 39.

108 McGinn (1998a) 142. For the uncertainty over the power of the aediles: Bauman (1974); Ryan (1994) 159-

162.

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could also describe illicit fornication with a male ingenuus and was punishable under the

Republican Lex Scantinia.109 The Lex Iulia was apparently not originally concerned with stuprum, for which both men and women could be prosecuted.110 Prosecution for adultery was aimed primarily at women, and, as formulated, represented a harsher regime than under the Republic. There were classes of women – not including citizen women – with whom a husband could legitimately have sex.111

Cato is reported to have affirmed the husband’s right to kill a wife caught in adultery and notes that a wife had no reciprocal legal right against her adulterous husband (Aul. Gell. NA

10.23.5 = Cato ORF4 222). This reflects adultery as a private wrong in the late Republic, outside the jurisdiction of a criminal court, and regulated by male interests within the household.112 Although the right to summary execution was modified, the unequal rules remained under the Augustan legislation. The Augustan rules on adultery were aimed directly at the conduct of married women.113

A further target of the Augustan marriage legislation was to encourage and strengthen marriage, and thus consolidate the Roman elite. To facilitate this, Augustus introduced monitoring by the Roman state on a scale never seen before. Status was fundamental.

Marriages were controlled by rewards and privileges. There was direct regulation of intermarriage across widely diverging social classes. Senators could no longer marry freedwomen, but could engage them as concubinae. Children born of those unions were

109 Fantham (1991); McGinn (1998a) 140-141. Its date is disputed, perhaps 149 BC.

110 Cohen (1991) 110-111 thinks stuprum was included.

111 Fantham (1991) 290, pointing out that these recognised outlets for the sexual satisfaction of males excluded a sexually passive role, but included his own wife, his own slaves, brothel slaves, and courtesans.

112 Fantham (1991) 284.

113 Edwards (1993) 38.

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considered illegitimate, while iustae nuptiae produced legitimates, and gave rise to social benefits for their procreators.

Under the Augustan adultery statute, a married Roman matrona was forbidden to have sex with a male of any status apart from her husband. In contrast, a married man only committed adultery when he had sex with a prohibited woman – one married to another Roman citizen.

A special right of accusation was accorded to the husband and father of the woman accused.

The role of the father was subordinate, since the husband was required to activate a divorce, and then had sixty days in which to prosecute.114 Failure to divorce ran the risk of prosecution on a charge of lenocinium.115 All parties were thus under threat of shaming, and penalties were closely connected to Roman notions of honour.116

The penalties applied were extremely disadvantageous for those convicted, but the terms under which the right of the husband or father of the adulteress to kill the guilty party or parties (ius occidendi) were actually reduced.117 Although the father was authorised to kill his daughter and her lover, the husband was not free to kill his wife. He could kill the lover, if of lowly status, and in a category authorised under the law.118 The lover stood to lose half of his property, while the woman lost a third of hers, plus half of her dowry. This was far more than the maximum of one sixth exacted by the Republican retentio propter mores.119 A woman convicted of adultery was required to wear a toga; it may be at this time that the toga first

114 Details in McGinn (1998a) 145-146.

115 Bouché-Leclercq (1895) 257-258; Tracy (1976); McGinn (1998a) 171-192.

116 Cohen (1991) 111-116.

117 The right to kill was modified, but de Beauvoir notes that as late as the Napoleonic code, juries were encouraged to be lenient to wronged husbands: (2011) 91.

118 McGinn (1998a) 146.

119 Corbett (1930) 193; Treggiari (1991) 352; McGinn (1998a) 142.

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became required dress for prostitutes, thus equating an adulteress with a prostitute.120 The stigmatisation was intended to humiliate, and emphasised the status of the adulteress within the shame culture.121 Moreover, those convicted, male and female, lost a number of privileges. They could not give oral or written testimony in court, nor could the man witness a will.122 Relegation to separate islands may have been normal. The pair was excluded from inheritance and remarriage to freeborn Romans (D. 48.5.29 (30).1). Anyone convicted who went ahead and remarried would be subject to prosecution, and the new husband risked conviction for lenocinium, like a complaisant husband who failed to prosecute his wife’s adultery within the required time-frame.123 Convicted males suffered loss of civic privileges, including exclusion from serving in army, and were branded with infamia.

These rules were tough and uncompromising. The emphasis is on the elite providing a role model. As far as Roman matrons were concerned, they were placed in an unenviable situation, where their behaviour was being scrutinised not merely by their husbands, but also potentially by informers authorised by the state. The status of her male lover had little impact on the guilt of an adulteress; moreover, women could not bring like charges against their husbands, since the system relied on the husband of the adulteress to redress the wrong. This underlined the intervention of the state to ensure that the standards of Roman matronae were monitored by husbands, and failing that, by others. The role of the paterfamilias and the consilium domesticum markedly diminished. The efficacy of the legislation has often been

120 McGinn (1998a) 168-171.

121 Cantarella (1991) 231.

122 McGinn (1998a) 142. Women never had this right.

123 Tracy (1976); McGinn (1998a) 143.

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questioned, and it has been noted that during the empire repeated attempts were made to stiffen penalties.124

Conclusion

Patria potestas remained a potent force within the Roman family after 200 BC, but both males and females under power increased in independence through control of peculium.

Supervision by a tutor, originally designed to protect agnatic inheritance, became less onerous as patterns of inheritance began to broaden out to encompass bilateral kin. Cicero shows that by the 1st century BC, there was quite a relaxed attitude to female wealth and inheritance.

However, immediately after the Punic Wars, conservative forces were still actively campaigning to restrict the expansion of female wealth and its display. Cato staunchly opposed the abrogation of the Lex Oppia, a sumptuary measure passed during the war. After much feuding in the Senate, the sumptuary law was repealed in 195 BC. Female pressure was a factor, but the abrogation was directly managed by males in the Senate. The Bacchanalian episode in 186 BC with its Campanian leadership showed that contemporary women had new goals. The cult had originally only accepted women, but changes had occurred both to the membership and the regularity of meetings. Authorities became concerned when it seemed that secrecy and crime could lead to major disturbance, including upsets to established gender roles. Livy’s text shows that widespread prosecution of women ensued. Many of these were returned to their families to be dealt with, but the whole episode signals growth in public interest in issues previously under family sanction.

124 Cohen (1991) 122-125.

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The Lex Voconia of 169 BC was an attack on testamentary inheritance by elite women, and had been strongly supported by Cato. This legislation failed to take account of intestacy. Rich women were not entitled to be instituted as heirs to an estate worth more than 100,000 HS, nor could they obtain a legacy greater than the portion of the heir or heirs. The legislation can only be explained by assuming that the rich testators would generally write wills, or adopt, and not let their estates go under intestacy, where a woman could still potentially be sole beneficiary. The Augustan laws acknowledge female inheritance, but attach conditions, applicable also to male heirs. Women who complied with their conditions seem no longer to have been constrained by the Lex Voconia; the requirement for full entitlement to receive inheritance was now simply for women between the ages of 20-50 to be married and have three or more children. Women had gained a little ground in relation to inheritance, since the

Augustan legislation acknowledged that responsible candidates could be acceptable heirs.

The Augustan adultery statute, on the other hand, underlines inequalities. A Roman male was authorised to have sexual relations with a wide field of possible partners with the exception of married matronae. Matronae, in contrast, were stigmatised if they chose partners other than their husbands. Punishments for those who flouted these protocols involved social humiliation for those convicted (infamia); married women were equated to prostitutes, and forced to wear the toga, while male offenders suffered serious civic disadvantages. The

Augustan laws effectively reduced the power of the paterfamilias to regulate his own household as state control increased.

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Chapter 4: Cornelia Biographical outline: background and significance

Cornelia’s status placed her in a key position in the mid-Republican world. As one of four children of Scipio Africanus the elder and Aemilia, Cornelia was directly related to two of the most famous generals of the age, her father, Hannibal’s nemesis, and, her mother’s brother,

L. Aemilius Paullus, the conqueror of Macedon, who defeated Perseus at Pydna in 168 BC.1

Her birth is usually placed between 195-190 BC.2 Marriage and adoption of close kin consolidated this family during the second century; one of Cornelia’s brothers adopted the son of Aemilius Paullus, Scipio Aemilianus, who married Cornelia’s daughter, Sempronia, perhaps the only one of six daughters still alive at the time of the marriage to Aemilianus.3

This process united the two lineages instrumental in creating the Mediterranean empire.

Cornelia’s controversial sons ensured continuing interest in her life.

Cornelia retired to her maritime villa at Misenum after the deaths of Tiberius and Gaius

Gracchus; precisely when is unclear (Plut. GG 19; Orosius 5.12.9).4 With the death of Gaius, the disgrace of her sons was complete. Her daughter-in-law Licinia was forbidden to wear mourning for Gaius, and deprived of her dowry (Plut. GG. 17.6).5 Cornelia may also have been forbidden to mourn. Cornelia was then in her 60s or 70s. At some point, Cornelia

1 Münzer (1999) 103 dates her birth considerably later, because Cicero describes her as a mere adulescens when her husband died in 152 BC (Div. 1.36).

2 For complications: Moir (1983) 136-145.

3 Münzer (1999) 97-99. On Aemilianus: Astin (1967).

4 As a model of maternal restraint in the face of loss: Wilcox (2006) 86; Bauman suggests Cornelia’s claim shows her thinking of her sons as demi-gods: (1992) 45.

5 For complications generated by the legal intervention of her uncle P. Mucius Scaevola: Javolenus in D.

24.3.66pr. and comments by Bauman (1978) 239-243; Flower (2006) 76-78; 301-302.

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described the public places where her sons died as worthy tombs, gaining praise for restraint in her grief (Plut. GG 19; Sen. Marc. 16.3). Cornelia’s behaviour could be seen as retrospective endorsement of the attempts of her sons to modernise Roman politics – at least of her own encouragement of her sons to participate actively in public life. She consistently promoted family to the best of her ability, but still drew the line at doing harm to the public interest.

Cornelia, although living away from Rome, did not live the life of a recluse, and was reportedly surrounded by leading cultural figures. She proudly regaled guests with stories of her father and her children, without exhibiting undue emotion, as though recounting the early history of Rome (Plut. GG 19).6 Her absence from the trial of Equitius in 101 BC is thought to show that she died by 102 BC (Val. Max. 3.8.6).

Limitations of the evidence

There is no comprehensive biography of Cornelia from antiquity, and evidence has to be assembled from diverse sources. Individual stories about Cornelia require careful scrutiny.7

Myth already features in accounts of the life of Pomponia, Cornelia’s grandmother, the mother of Scipio Africanus the Elder; she, like Olympias, after impregnation by a snake, was reputed to have mothered a supreme conqueror (Livy 29.19.6; cf. Plut. Alex. 2.4-3.2). A variant held that Pomponia died during Scipio’s Caesarean birth (Plin. NH 7.47).8 Another strand has Pomponia survive to live vicariously through the political careers of her sons, making sacrifices at temples in Rome to support the candidature for aedileship of Scipio’s brother Lucius. The future Africanus is interestingly pictured convincing his mother to allow

6 Bauman (1992) 44-45.

7 For revisionist emphases highlighted by Hays (1803): Keegan (2017) 159-160.

8 Barnard (1990) 383.

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a precociously young candidacy (Polyb. 10.4.4-5). Polybius (or his source) emphasised the role of elite women in the political careers of their offspring. Recent experience of the lives and deaths of the brothers Gracchi is a likely influence.9 Accounts of Cornelia’s life shared this legendary atmosphere.

Cornelia’s early life, upbringing, and education are little known, but the finery of Cornelia’s mother, bequeathed by Scipio Aemilianus to his own mother Papiria on Aemilia’s death in

162 BC, underlines family wealth after the Second Punic War.10 Polybius pictures Aemilia as a figure who enjoyed display at women’s festivals, accompanied by a train of slaves, perhaps reacting to the wartime austerity imposed by the Lex Oppia (Polyb. 31.26-27).11 Aemilia is praised by Valerius Maximus as a faithful wife who even tolerated her husband’s affair with a slave girl (Val. Max. 6.7.1).12

A suspect story about Cornelia’s betrothal to Gracchus before his death in 183 BC dramatizes a confrontation between Aemilia and Scipio: Aemilia was dismayed when her husband announced his unilateral organisation of Cornelia’s betrothal. Supposedly, she responded that she approved if the intended spouse was Gracchus, and this was duly admitted (Livy 38.57.2-

8; Val. Max. 4.2.3; Aulus Gellius NA 12.8.1-4).13 This anecdote does however reliably demonstrate that it was customary to consult mothers about the choice of spouses for their daughters.14

9 Barnard (1990) 384. The latest dateable event in Polybius Histories is 118 BC: Walbank (1957) 1.

10 Dixon (1985b) 151-152; Lindsay (2009a) 150.

11 Barnard (1990) 385.

12 Barnard (1990) 386; Langlands (2006) 136-137.

13 Dixon (1988) 62. The betrothal of Ti. Gracchus to Claudia provides a suspicious doublet (Plut. TG. 4.1-4).

14 Barnard (1990) 384-385; Dixon (2007) 4-5. Marriage of Ti. Gracchus and Claudia: Astin (1967) 319-321.

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Her subsequent life and status as a univira has been idealised. Cornelia’s unflinching loyalty to her husband’s memory is perhaps described in excessive detail, representing her as totally faithful to her husband’s memory despite early widowhood, devoted to her twelve children.15

Her self-controlled widowhood is dramatized by her refusal of remarriage to Ptolemy, including a share in his rule (Plut. TG 1.7).16 This stance is still praised in imperial sources, although Augustan legislation had reduced the standing of the univira.17

Cornelia may have outlived her older husband by some fifty years. His death is classically foreshadowed, through an incident involving snakes. The earliest version appears in Cicero, citing Gaius Gracchus (Cic. Div. 1.36; 2.62). 18 Ti. Gracchus caught two snakes at home, and consulted the haruspices. They advised that if he released the male snake, his wife would die, but if he released the female, his own death would follow. He released the female, thinking his own death preferable to that of his young wife.19 The story idealises the importance of

Cornelia, the prestige of her family, and her preservation through divine intervention. Cicero disbelieves the story, but claims it convinced his brother Quintus.20 Cicero is sceptical, suggesting that, if Gracchus had killed both snakes, he would have averted the hostile outcome (Cic. Div. 2.62). Gaius dramatized his mother’s life after her husband’s death for his own purposes.

15 The status of univira was shared with the exemplary Veturia (Dion. Hal. Ant. 8.48). On the univira: Lightman and Zeisel (1977).

16 Gunther (1990) who provides a sceptical approach to the story; Dixon (2007) 7.

17 Dixon (1988) 22; Herbert- Brown (1994) 13; 147-148.

18 For other serpent episodes in Roman folklore and elsewhere: Marchetti (2008) 51-65.

19 Variants: Val. Max. 4.6.1; Plin. NH 7.122; Plut. TG 1.4-5, discussed by Marchetti (2008).

20 Marchetti (2008) 39-40.

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Cornelia appears in the sources with a range of perfections as ‘wife, mother, widow, mater dolorosa and prose stylist extraordinaire’.21 Some imperial sources reacted against this too perfect image, and had access to earlier hostile material (Martial 11.104.17-20; Juv. Sat.

6.161-163; 166-171).22 Most surviving material concerns episodes that date after her husband’s death. 23 Her pedigree and the political careers of her two sons led to contemporary controversies, but, after her death, Cornelia is represented as the ideal Roman matrona, transmitting nurture and moral welfare to her offspring.24 Gaius Gracchus already wrote influentially in this mode, but may not be the only force shaping the tradition.25 Nurture was not seen in modern terms; children were not to be spoiled and mothers had a strict disciplinary role.26

Cornelia is said to have prioritised her role as mother of the Gracchi over that as mother-in- law of Aemilianus (Plut. TG 8.7).27 Her sons and their achievements were emphasised after their rise and fall, and her support for her male children is prominent.28 Although Roman elite

21 Dixon (2007) xi-xii.

22 Hostility during Cornelia’s life time: Beness and Hillard (2013) 61-63; Martial: Watson (2005) 63-70; Beness and Hillard (2013) 72-76.

23 Petrocelli (2001) 34-35 on the difficulties of a biographical project.

24 On the matrona’s role: Dixon (1988) 2. Hallett (2006a) 119-121, interesting on the complexity of the relationship with Roman mothers, producing the literary example of Orestes as represented by Pacuvius, taking revenge on his mother, and thus taking on certain of her characteristics. She suggests that Pacuvius, an older contemporary of Cornelia, born 220 BC, was influenced in his treatment by the model of Cornelia, a mother influencing her children in somewhat heterodox ways.

25 Dixon (2007) 9, on Gaius and the Gracchan legend.

26 Dixon (1988) 2; 131; 145; 154.

27 Doubted by Stockton on chronological grounds: (1979) 26.

28 Hallett (2006a) 121; Hallett (1984) 243-245; Dixon (1988) 175.

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women were conditioned to favour male issue, Plutarch’s observation may aim to highlight conflict between the Gracchi and Aemilianus. The surviving statue-base from the Porticus

Octaviae celebrates her as Cornelia Africani f. Gracchorum (CIL 6.10043= ILS 68; Plin. NH

34.31; Plut. CG 4),29 concentrating on her impressive paternal inheritance, and her controversial male children.30

Supposed utterances of some trenchancy are attributed to Cornelia– a potentially useful armoury for a woman prominent in Roman public life. However, Valerius Maximus turns her into a proud matrona, quipping ‘My children are my jewels’ (Val. Max. 4.4 praef.) - her famous response to a Campanian guest in her house at Misenum, who had earlier displayed her outstanding jewellery.31 The story sets Cornelia’s acceptance of her maternal role against

Aemilia’s very public display of material wealth, and marks children as the crowning glory of the virtuous wife.32 The guest rebuked may be Busa, an Apulian lady of property, honoured by the Senate for assisting Romans troops after Cannae (Livy 22.52.7; Val. Max. 4.8.2). Busa was of Aemilia’s generation, which is chronologically problematic. Cornelia, a high-ranking hostess, feels the need to correct her guest imperiously, by stressing the triviality of materialism. Maximus underlines the maternal role, and implies interests beyond crude

29 She is said to have coveted the title (Plut. GG 19): Dixon (1988) 98; Barnard (1990) 389.

30 This statue may have been erected in the age of Augustus to celebrate the maternal relationship to her revolutionary sons, and indirectly to celebrate Augustus’ creative use of the tribunate to cement his popular support after 23 BC: Petrocelii (2001) 61-63; Woodhull (2012) 229-230, accepting Ruck (2004) 285-302;

Hemelrijk (2005) 309-317. It also could be aimed at harnessing her procreative powers in support of the

Augustan marital legislation: Dixon (1988) 71.

31 Hemelrijk (1987) 223.

32 Aemilia’s conspicuous display of finery: Polyb. 31.26.3-5. Münzer (1999) 52 on Campanian clients. The story is attributed by Valerius Maximus to Pomponius Rufus. For similar biographical stories: Barnard (1990) 387.

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materialism, but hardly makes her a philosopher (cf. Plut. Mor. 145E-F).33 Maximus’ image of Cornelia contributes to her image as a dutiful Roman wife and mother who accepts and promotes the male-approved centrality of her maternal role.34

Applying the tests

Traditional roles

Education

Focus on Cornelia’s life as a matrona has overshadowed her primacy in letters. Her education had included training and fluency in Greek, appropriate to her highly civilised philhellenist family. Her adult circle included Greek philosophers. Carneades is said willingly and respectfully to have conversed with her about philosophy (Jerome Commentarii in

Sophoniam prophetam Prologus = PL 25.1337C; cf. Plut. GG 19.2-3).35 Both her maternal and paternal lines had direct involvement in Roman expansion across the Greek world.

Scipio, her father, and her maternal uncle, L. Aemilius Paullus Macedonicus, fostered interests in Greek culture. Macedonicus’ son, Scipio Aemilianus, had many Greek and

Roman intellectual friends, including Polybius, the philosopher Panaetius, the satirist

Lucilius, and the playwright, Terence.36 Cornelia’s family employed leading Greek scholars in the villa at Liternum, as Cornelia did later at Misenum (Plut. GG 19.2). Hemelrijk suggests that privileged access to Greek texts assisted Cornelia’s Greek studies; Aemilius Paullus had shipped home an extensive Greek library after his victory at Pydna in 167 BC (Plut. Aem. 6.5;

33 The story has a doublet in Plutarch’s life of Phocion (Plut. Phoc. 19), there claiming a husband as the ornament: Petrocelli (2001) 46; other implausible features: Bloomer (2011) 29-30.

34 Tales of Cornelia’s poverty seem insubstantial: Petrocelli (2001) 46-47.

35 Petrocelli (2001) 50.

36 For the modern term ‘Scipionic circle’: Astin (1967) 294-306; Gruen (1990) 197-202.

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28.6; Plin. NH 35.135).37 Cornelia’s brother, the adoptive father of Aemilianus, was also a scholar (Vell. 1.10.3; Cic. Brut. 77). Prominent women in the altered world after the Punic wars were harnessed in the competition for status.38 The Scipios were at the forefront of this movement, and Cornelia could boast an impressive background in Greek culture and ideas.

The changes in mores introduced from Greece, and the bilingual curriculum, especially for women, were not universally approved; upper class males, including Scipio Aemilianus, disapproved of music lessons and dancing (Macrob. Sat. 3.14.4-7).39 Cornelia’s depiction as the ideal matrona, and the descendant of Africanus, deliberately plays down her intellectual pursuits. Earlier expectations in terms of education were undergoing transformation in

Cornelia’s lifetime.

Betrothal and marriage

Cornelia’s betrothal, and the marriage, apparently well after her father’s death in c. 183 BC, to Ti. Sempronius Gracchus, first displays her political centrality (Plut. TG 1; 4.3).40

Moreover, Gracchus was chosen, not by Scipio, but by Cornelia’s relatives in the consilium domesticum (Plut. TG 4.3).41 Gracchus, born c. 220 BC, had an outstanding career, achieving the consulate in 177 and 163 BC, as well as two triumphs, although his distinguished

37 Hemelrijk (1999) 24-25; 28; 54; 65; Bonner (1977) 12-25 on the Hellenised curriculum.

38 Dixon (2007) 36.

39 Hemelrijk (1999) 78.

40 Plutarch, on the substantial authority of Polybius, claims that Africanus died before Cornelia’s betrothal. For the diverging sources: Stockton (1979) 23-24; Petrocelli (2001) 36-37; Dixon (2007) 3-5. On betrothals:

Treggiari (1984) 419-451.

41 Dixon (1985b) 154; (2007) 5.

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plebeian background stood in contrast to Cornelia’s patrician status.42 The match, a typical late Republican elite marriage, has been related to reconciling opposed senatorial factions.43

Cornelia was not the eldest daughter of Africanus, but her impressive dowry created the expectation that she would link important political interests and produce heirs amalgamating those interests. Polybius outlines the dowry arrangements, relevant to the date of Cornelia’s marriage.44 Cornelia and her sister were promised fifty talents each by their father before his death (HS 1,200,000). Half of this had been paid by Aemilia on marriage to their husbands.

Cornelia’s dowry had been arranged in about 165 BC, by dotal pact.45 Aemilia’s heir,

Aemilianus, paid the balance of the dowry on her mother’s death in 162 BC. The dowry arrangements had to be completed in three years, which may confirm the date of Cornelia’s marriage to Gracchus (Polyb. 32.13. 1-3).46 This arrangement consolidated her long term wealth.

Children

Cornelia had a key role as a mother, demonstrated by her enormous family. Pliny claims that

Cornelia had twelve children, alternating the sexes each time (Plin. NH 7.57). 47 Her

42 On Gracchus and Scipio as enemies: Cic. De Prov, Cons. 8.18; Livy 38.52 (Valerius Antias); Val. Max. 4.2.3;

Aulus Gellius NA 6.19.6.

43 Dixon (2007) 15; Petrocelli (2001) 36-38.

44 A spurious tradition of poverty has her dowered by the state: Seneca Quaest nat. 1.17.8; Ad Helv. 12.6:

Dixon (2007) 6.

45 Münzer (1999) 103; Dixon (1985b) 155-156.

46 In the much later Tudor period, dowry payments were commonly spread over three years: Harris (2002) 49.

47 Moir argues that Pliny’s claim should be interpreted to mean that Cornelia had six daughters followed by six sons: Moir (1983) 138-140; Petrocelli (2001) 38.

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outstanding fertility was muted by the poor survival rate (Plut. TG 1.5).48 Tiberius, perhaps the eldest child, not yet thirty, died in 133 BC; his birth date must be close to 162 BC. Gaius was some nine years younger, placing his birth in c. 153 BC. His father died at about this time (c. 154 BC). Some support an earlier date for Cornelia’s marriage, c. 175 BC, making allowance for Cornelia’s large family.49

Seneca briefly recounts Cornelia’s Stoic resilience when she lost her two sons, and reminds his audience of Cornelia’s twelve children and her endurance of an equal number of funerals

(Sen. Ad Helviam 16.5-6; cf. Ad Marciam 16.3). Seneca’s rhetoric forgets that Sempronia outlived her mother.50

The independent matrona

After her husband’s death,, Cornelia’s life as a widow seems little hampered by strictures imposed by a tutor.51 She became the template for later mothers, including Octavia and her daughter, Antonia minor. Her arrangements for the education of her surviving children are

48 Petrocelli (2001) 39.

49 Carcopino (1967) 61-64; Moir (1983) 136-141; Hemelrijk (1999) 65.

50 Dixon (2007) 7. Sempronia, apparently the last surviving family representative, appeared at the trial of

Equitius (101 BC), to deny his identity as the illegitimate offspring of Tiberius. At a contio, Sempronia strongly resisted pressure for her to acknowledge Equitius with a kiss (Val. Max. 3.8.6). The censor Metellus Numidicus had challenged the citizenship of Equitius who was backed by popular forces (Val. Max. 9.7.1-2; 9.15.1). The popular movement was besieged on the Capitol by Marius, and the main parties, including Equitius as tribune designate, were lynched and killed before the Senate could deal with them (Cic. Pro Rab. perd. 20; Val. Max.

3.2.18; App. BC 1.32-33). On his death in 100 BC: Beness and Hillard (1990) 269-272, discussing whether

Equitius died with Saturninus and Glaucia, or later, when he took office as tribune, revisited in Beness and

Hillard (2016) 96.

51 Gardner (1986) 14-22; Hemelrijk (1999) 65-69; Petrocelli (2001) 47-48.

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already idealised by Cicero (Cic. Brut. 211), and later by Qunitilian, Tacitus and Plutarch

(Quint. Inst. 1.1.6; Tac. Dial. 28; Plut. TG 1.6).52

Organising marriages

Cornelia’s role in the organisation of marriages for her children is unattested, although her daughter was married to Aemilianus by 147 BC. Both Tiberius and Gaius were married to the daughters of major backers of their political stance, a pair of brothers-in-law who were opposed to Aemilianus.53 Tiberius was married to Claudia, the daughter of Appius Claudius

Pulcher (cos. 143; censor 131), while Gaius gained Licinia, whose father was P. Licinius

Crassus Mucianus (PM, cos. 131), brother of P. Mucius Scaevola (Cic. Re Publica 1.31).

These leading figures were notable lawyers and orators, and both became land commissioners under Tiberius’ bill.54 If Cornelia was directly involved, these politicised arrangements could be seen as an expression of her support for her son’s political views.

Controversial roles

Educating her sons

Some of the traditional roles were handled by Cornelia in a controversial way. While her involvement in the education of her sons was traditional, she pushed the boundaries in new and potentially contentious directions.

Cornelia’s influence on the nurture and education of her sons clearly exceeded norms.

Plutarch emphasises Cornelia’s interest in fostering the Greek studies of Tiberius Gracchus

52 As noted by Hemelrijk (1999) 66.

53 On the evidence: Gruen (1968) 5-53.

54 Stockton (1979) 27; 30; 89.

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(Plut. TG 8).55 His instructor in public speaking was the rhetorician, Diophanes of Mytilene

(Cic. Brut. 104; Strabo 13.2.3=C617), his boyhood tutor, still in his entourage and suffering the fate of Tiberius’ other supporters in 133 BC (Plut. TG 20). Cicero and others credit

Blossius, a prominent citizen of Cumae, educated at Athens by Antipater of Tarsus, the leading Stoic teacher of Panaetius, with crucial influence on Tiberius’ reforms (Cic. Laelius

37; Val. Max. 4.7.1; Plut. TG 8; 17).56 This included inciting Tiberius, on the day of his death, to prove his popular focus, and defend his great pedigree against counterclaims of tyranny, despite an unfavourable omen (Plut. TG 17; 20).57 Cornelia introduced her sons to

Greek political theory, and to their political responsibilities. Cornelia must have suspected that these Greek teachers had controversial ideas about the organisation of the state.58 She continued to cultivate Greek intellectuals after retirement to Misenum (Plut. GG 19.2-3).

Plutarch underlines the power of Gaius’ rhetoric, fostered under Cornelia’s educational regime. Tiberius was conciliatory and less impassioned, but had a capacity to gain his audience’s empathy (Plut. TG. 1.7; 2.3; GG 1-4). Rhetoric was not a paternal strength (Cic.

De Orat. 1.38), but Cornelia’s sons habitually evoked her popularity to influence the public

(Plut. TG 13.6; Dio fr. 83.8).59 Her influence on the rhetorical skills of her sons is only moderately criticised by ancient sources despite its controversial application. Plutarch assigns

55 Barnard (1990) 389.

56 Dudley (1941) 94-99.

57 On Blossius’ contentious form of Stoicism: Erskine (1990) 161-167; on his motives: Bloomer (1992) 44-49;

Leach (1993) 7-8.

58 Dixon (2007) 18.

59 Petrocelli (2001) 57.

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her some blame.60 Cornelia’s own published writings had admirers in antiquity, and Cicero and Quintilian emphasise how much Cornelia’s sons owed to the eloquence exhibited in her letters (Cic. Brut. 211; Quint. Inst. 1.1.6; Plut. CG 13.2). Some clearly circulated, perhaps reported by near-contemporary historians after the death of the brothers. This demonstrates that her approach to education attracted considerable approval from elite Roman males.

Relations with Aemilianus

At least until the death of Tiberius, Cornelia remained on satisfactory terms with her nephew by adoption, Aemilianus. Adoptive relationships seem to have created some tensions, never detailed in the sources. When conflict arose it was not over inheritance matters, but politics.

His adopter was Cornelia’s brother, P. Cornelius Scipio, and Aemilianus thus became heir to both strands of the family. Aemilianus was placed in a position to favour his family of birth at the expense of the two Corneliae.61 As paterfamilias and heir, he handed down Aemilia’s finery to his biological mother Papiria, and on her death (c. 160 BC), to his own sisters.

Cornelia and her sister must have approved of this financial arrangement; she must also have endorsed the marriage of her daughter Sempronia to Aemilianus shortly before 147 BC (cf.

Plut. TG 4.3). Tiberius accompanied Aemilianus to Africa (147 BC), and Gaius too was with him in Spain (133 BC), but by the time of his death in 129 BC, Aemilianus was in open conflict with Gaius (Plut. TG 21), leading to serious problems with Cornelia and

Sempronia.62

60 Dixon (1988) 172. Plutarch criticises her introduction of Diophanes and Blossius. The influence of Spurius

Postumius, and Gaius Gracchus’ famous invocation of his brother’s reactions to latifundia in Etruria is also cited. Other incentives for Tiberius included popular slogans daubed prominently around Rome (Plut. TG 8).

61 Cornelia might nevertheless have been upset and provoked: Hallett (2006a) 122.

62 Dixon (2007) 16-17.

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Politics: beneficial political interference

Cornelia’s input and reactions to the political decisions of her sons, and how Tiberius and

Gaius responded to criticisms of their behaviour are important issues. A role for mothers in political transactions scene was not customary. Cornelia is credited with influencing Gaius to withdraw his bill to remove Marcus Octavius from office in 123 BC. This interference may well have been viewed by many as transgressive, but Plutarch reports popular pleasure at

Gaius’ response to Cornelia because she was admired as much as her father Africanus. For this reason these interventions seem to be regarded as beneficial, but controversial. According to Plutarch, Gaius regularly raised in public Cornelia’s unsullied reputation in response to insults to him and his family (Plut. GG 4.1; cf. Diod. 34/35.25.2).63 Finally, Plutarch claims that Cornelia’s action in regard to Octavius directly led to the award of her statue as mother of the Gracchi at a later date.

In another political confrontation with Opimius, Gaius was supposedly assisted by his mother in employing armed supporters, disguised as harvesters; in contradiction, Plutarch also reports the view of other commentators that Cornelia was strongly opposed to this violent approach (Plut. GG 13.2).64 The latter view supports the picture of Cornelia’s avoidance of dangerous confrontations.

63 Stockton (1979) 116-117; Beness and Hillard have recently explored the attacks in detail, suggesting that a major line of attack related to her marriage to Gracchus, interpreted as ill-omened. This was prompted by Cic.

Inv. 1.91, and by careful scrutiny of Plin. NH 7.69; Solinus 1.67, sources dwelling on her genital defect as a token of the displeasure of the gods: (2013) 65-71; cf. Petrocelli (2001) 36.

64 Harvesters were perhaps chosen as the natural supporters of Gracchus: Stockton (1979) 20.

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Nepos cites excerpts from one of Cornelia’s letters, ostensibly written to her son, Gaius, in or before 124 BC.65 Included is an appeal from Cornelia to Gaius to support his remaining parent – a call unheeded by Gaius.66 Hallett has supported the content as authentic. 67 The citations depict Cornelia engaged in a highly individualistic interpretation of the maternal role, quite distinct from the idealised roles thrust on her by other sources. If authentic, these texts imply that the Gracchi brothers created serious discord within this highly politicised family:

Fragment 1

You will say that it is a fine thing to take vengeance on your enemies. That no man

judges greater or finer than I do, but only if it may be pursued without damage to the

state. But so far as that it is not possible, long and surely shall our enemies not perish

and they shall be as they are now, before the state be overwhelmed and perish.

Fragment 2

I would venture to take a solemn oath that, except for the men who killed Tiberius

Gracchus, no enemy has given me so much trouble and toil as you have done because

of these matters. You should rather have borne the part of all the children whom I had

65 The original context of this text in the manuscript tradition of Nepos is obscure: Horsfall (1987) 231-234;

(1989) 41-42; Hallett (2006a); Dixon (2007) 26-29; Stem (2012) 12-13. Although Nepos himself was actively writing biographies between 34-27 BC, this excerpted work is undated: Geiger (1985) 88; 84-93 suggests Nepos wrote on Roman women at some point in his poorly attested career; Stem (2012) 14-15.

66 Dixon (1988) 181; 191 on maternal support. These extracts are sometimes assessed as elaborate forgeries, or at least a doctored version of her text: Instinsky (1971) 189, argues the letters are later fabrications, based on known information about her educational role; Dixon (2007) 26-27, following Horsfall (1989) 41-42.

67 Hallett (2004); (2006a).

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before and taken care that I should have the least possible anxiety in old age, that,

whatever you did, you wanted it above all to meet my approval and that you thought it

sinful to do anything of major importance against my views, especially since so little

of my life remains. Cannot even the brevity of that period do anything to stop you

opposing me and destroying the state? What respite will there ever be? Will our

family ever desist from madness? Will bounds ever be set to it? Will we ever cease

and make an end of troubles, both enduring them and inflicting them? Will we ever

feel real shame at throwing the state into turmoil and confusion? But if that really

cannot be, seek the tribunate when I am dead. As far as I am concerned, do what you

will, when I shall not feel it. When I am dead you will sacrifice to me and invoke your

parent’s divine protector. Then will you not be ashamed to wish to pray to those

divinities, whom living and present you treated as deserted and abandoned? May

Jupiter above not allow you to continue thus, nor let such madness enter your mind.

And if you do persevere, I fear that all your life long by your own fault you will incur

so much toil that you will never be able to think well of your own self.

Nepos fr. 1.1-2: translated by N. Horsfall (1989) 43

Cornelia complains to Gaius about his political activity; she dislikes his program, she supports the res publica, and claims her sons are damaging the family - in short she takes the view of her natal family, rather than the view of the family she had married into. Hallett sees

Cornelia’s motivation as the instillation of shame into her son in place of punishment – an approach to a degree dictated by her gender.68

68 Hallett (2006a) 121.

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The main themes are totally credible. In the first extract, Cornelia complains that revenge on political enemies should not damage the state.69 The cost of retribution must always be assessed. A pre-existing dialogue between Gaius and Cornelia dealing with the same issue is implied. In the second excerpt, Cornelia also chides Gaius for having been more troublesome than any enemy apart from the killers of Tiberius. This presumes enduring disagreement between Cornelia and Gaius. The letter suggests a combative relationship. She blames Gaius for failing to fill the shoes of her ten deceased children and cover their responsibilities, a failure in duty to family, through selfish pursuit of ambition. He has generated anxiety, instead of striving to meet her approval; pietas should have been his main aim, especially in view of her age and imminent death. The tone aims to engage her son in feelings of shame related to family and patriotism. Cornelia had passed on far more than educational opportunities; she expects her son to respect her political opinions. These have clearly been expressed frequently. She now regards his actions as opposed to her and destructive to the state. Her rhetorical question demands whether the family will ever desist from madness and creating trouble for themselves and the state. As Hallett observes, this encompasses more general unhappiness with the behaviour of family members, specifically Tiberius.70 Cornelia insists that Gaius should abandon his quest for the tribunate – at least until her death. The final appeal attempts to engage latent feelings of shame that will be raised after her death, and the inner turmoil this will generate, when he offers sacrifices at his mother’s grave on the

Parentalia, after ignoring her wishes. This letter, with its strong educational agenda, shows

Cornelia’s tough and uncompromising attitude to disciplining children.71 Hallett points out

69 Hallett (2004) 29; (2006a) 126.

70 Hallett (2004) 29.

71 Hallett (2006a) 121 on the maternal legacy of Cornelia.

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that this does not invalidate its authenticity.72 Cornelia emerges as a forceful and emotionally demanding mother, engaged in moral blackmail. She has fewer coercive tools at her disposal than a Roman father.73 In the event, Gaius went ahead and was elected as tribune in 123 and

122 BC. Her power as a writer was admired by Cicero and Quintilian, but was ineffectual in this instance.

How this text ended up in the public domain is not easy to resolve. Cicero already has a positive view of Cornelia, so her later image cannot have included support for Gracchan politics. This suggests that after her death, her image was attractive to those taking the opposing stance, and set in opposition to the disruptive political views of her sons (Re

Publica 1.31; 3.41).74 By the time of Cicero, Cornelia’s controversial views were acceptable to conservatives.

Hallett has explored echoes of Cornelia’s approach to her son Gaius in Augustan literature, episodes in Livy and Vergil. Livy’s treatment of the mother of Coriolanus, Veturia, written during the 20s BC similarly accuses her renegade son of occupying dangerous territory as a potential enemy of the state, and a person causing his mother distress. Veturia emphasises her son’s own wife and family, unlike the letter of Cornelia, and displays much greater anger, including at herself for giving birth to Coriolanus (Livy 2.40).75 Nevertheless, unlike

72 (2006a) 127.

73 Hallett (2004) 31.

74 Fantham sees the letters as fakes, ‘discovered’ as part of the conservative reaction to radical reform: (1994)

264-265. Thus Cornelia was sanitised as another Veturia.

75 Hallett (2006a) 129-131.

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Cornelia, Veturia’s case records a successful maternal intervention, rewarded in 486 BC with the dedication of the temple of Fortuna Muliebris at the fourth mile of the Via Latina.76

Transgressive roles

Death of Aemilianus

Indications that some of Cornelia’s behaviour might have been judged transgressive can be found in accounts of her political views. The story of the death of Aemilianus in 129 BC promotes a hostile and politicised role for Cornelia. Cornelia’s daughter, Sempronia, had been married to Aemilianus since before his departure for Carthage in 147 BC.77 Appian implicates both Cornelia and Sempronia, in the death, although uncertain whether Aemilianus might have committed suicide. He transmits hostility to Sempronia, describing her as deformed and childless. Her loveless marriage is blamed for her hostility to her husband (BC

1.20).78 Cornelia’s powerful personality, and influence on her daughter’s upbringing, may be important. Sempronia seems to align with her natal family.79 Both women are said to have wanted to protect Tiberius’ agrarian legislation against repeal (BC 1.20), when Aemilianus had been enlisted to defend the allies against the land commissioners (BC 1.18-19).80

Nevertheless, Appian reports that Aemilianus avoided attacking the Gracchan land law

76 Quilici Gigli (1981) 547-563; Hemelrijk (1987) 226.

77 This was a close kin marriage. The two parties had the same grandfather: Münzer (1999) 99.

78 On Sempronia’s marriage and allegations of involvement in her husband’s death: Livy Ep. 59; Oros. 5.10.10;

Astin (1967) 235-236; 241; Beness and Hillard (2016) 92-93.

79 Dixon (1988) 224.

80 Discussed by Barnard (1990) 391.

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directly (BC 1.19).81 Appian reports conflicting views about how Aemilianus died and includes the detail that he was denied a public funeral, (BC 1.20) 82 Plutarch agrees that

Aemilianus did not die a natural death, but attributes the murder to Fulvius Flaccus, or Gaius

Gracchus, perhaps reflecting a view of Aemilianus’ supporters many years later (Plut. GG

10.4).83 Unfortunately, these conflicting sources obscure Cornelia’s attitude to the lex agraria. The underlying message is that the relationship between Cornelia and Aemilianus was generally believed to have reached a very low point at the time of Aemilianus’ death.

Conclusion

The image of Cornelia is complex and was later manipulated as her life was reassessed in relation to the events of the 2nd century BC. Her privileged background and controversies raised by the conquest of the Greek world form a backdrop to her life. The sources prefer to emphasise her role as matrona, and signs of her considerable education in Greek culture are pushed into the background. Her traditional marriage to Sempronius Gracchus aimed to settle dispute between rival senatorial factions, and his early death precipitated her leading role in protecting the political future of his surviving sons. Our sources assign her limited credit for this, but nevertheless evidence has filtered through which aids reconstruction.

Cornelia’s approach to fostering the intellectual development of her sons gave her greater respect than that accorded to women in the Greek world.84 The sources are hardly alert to the

81 If the letter cited by Nepos is genuine, Cornelia’s strong defence of the res publica might indicate that her political views were close to those of Aemilianus: Bauman (1992) 43.

82 Beness (2005) 40-42.

83 Worthington (1989) 253-256. The accusation of murder is implicit in Cicero De Amicitia 12; cf. Orosius

5.10.10.

84 Dixon (1988) 176.

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benefits of female equality. There is no foreshadowing of the concept of emancipation. She is still seen as subject to feminine frailties and excluded from male duties.85 The evidence reporting the writings of Gaius Gracchus concentrates on him building up his mother to enhance his own position. It focuses on how Cornelia brought her sons to prominence, not on herself. One aim in shifting the gaze may have been to counter hostile versions of her life circulated by Gracchan opponents. Cornelia’s familial loyalty takes precedence over any political assessment. Even Cornelia’s daughter, Sempronia, is built up as a family member supporting her brothers against the interests of her own husband, Aemilianus (Liv. Per. 69).

Moreover, some sources blame Cornelia and Sempronia for contriving the early death of

Aemilianus in 129 BC. Portraits of Cornelia generally avoid her political role and focus on her role as mother of famous sons. This assists the process of depoliticising her career and prioritising her nurturing role.

Cornelia’s own opinions may emerge from the extracts from her letters preserved in

Cornelius Nepos. Forthright views are attributed to her, and must have been credible to ancient audiences, regardless of their provenance. Her insistence that the fate of the res publica is more important than divisive politics assigns to her a role in family debates on politics. Even though her gender excludes her from the forum, she is not a mere puppeteer, but can contribute to the political thinking of her offspring herself, and through their introduction to leading contemporary Greek intellectuals. She may have hoped to use them as proxies. Extant sources, apart from the evidence of Nepos, place little emphasis on this.

After her death, her reputation was realigned, and used for different ends, but her pride in her sons’ achievements is still at the centre of the picture; the radical tribunes could be promoted in the Augustan era and Cornelia herself was given iconic status when the people erected for

85 Petrocelli (2001) 35.

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her a statue as mother of the Gracchi (Plut. GG 4.4).86 Unfortunately, no image has survived to match the epitaph on the base of the statue.

86 Dixon (2007) xiii.

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Chapter 5: Clodia

Background, significance, and sources

Clodia was the daughter of Ap. Claudius Pulcher (cos. 79 BC), born between 98-94 BC – with quite a pedigree.1 Her maternal background is uncertain.2 She appears in Cicero’s letters after 62 BC, in her thirties, already the wife of Q. Caecilius Metellus Celer since about 82-79

BC, apparently his first cousin on her mother’s side.3

Clodia in conjunction with Mucia had been employed by Cicero as an intermediary in 62 BC to pacify her husband; the correspondence notes her role as a consular wife in 60 BC, and later letters from 45 BC demonstrate that Cicero was considering buying a property from her.

Clodia appears initially as a mature woman, and, after 59 BC, a widow, aged perhaps 39-40.

The poems of Catullus add to the popular interpretation of Clodia’s life; the poet’s mistress,

Lesbia, has been widely thought to be Clodia.4

Limitations of the evidence

1 McDermott (1970) 41; Hillard (1973) 509; Skinner (2011) 79. For Cicero’s aims in denominating her as nobilis: Hillard (1992) 48. Detailed pedigree: Wiseman (1985) 15-20.

2 Two hypothetical reconstructions: Skinner (2011) xix; 52-55, denying the long accepted view that Clodia was the daughter of the Caecilia who assisted Roscius of Ameria. See e.g. Crownover (1934) 137.

3 Skinner (2011) 56.

4 On popular representations of Clodia: Wiseman (1975); Skinner (2011) 1. For doubts over which of the three sisters of Clodius was Lesbia: Wiseman (1969) 50-60; (1974a) 104-114. The equation of Lesbia with a Clodia appears already in Apuleius (Apol. 10): Wiseman (1985) 130. Skinner believes it plausible that this is Clodia

Metelli, but dismisses the historical value of the Catullan poems: Skinner (1982); (1983) 274; Dixon (2001)

135-136. Older literature includes McDermott (1970); Hillard (1973).

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Few aspects of Clodia’s life are covered either before or after the earliest evidence (62 BC), and most sources concentrate on her sexual reputation.5 Allegations of incest are difficult to separate from political vituperatio. Clodia has suffered extensively from hostile male sources covering 60-50 BC. She held the role of consular wife, and controversy arose over her relationship with her brother Clodius. She was a figure of social prominence in the Pro

Caelio, and could be the Catullan Lesbia. The Catullan legacy, combined with Cicero’s portrait in the Pro Caelio, concentrates on her sexual reputation. Her contemporaries and immediate circle may have had different perspectives.6

The presentation in Pro Caelio (56 BC) apparently resulted from Cicero’s damaging political dealings with Clodius. In a legal defence, rhetorical traditions enabled Cicero to represent a woman as wickedly forwarding private interests, to deflect attention from his client’s misdemeanours.7 Rhetorical vituperation in Pro Caelio presents a society figure, notorious for her profligacy.8

The hostility exhibited in Cicero’s Pro Caelio and the Catullan corpus impedes a realistic view of Clodia; in 59 BC she is a widow, continuing to support the political career of her brother. By 58 BC Clodius is tribune, and Cicero has been forced to leave the city; on return

Cicero takes revenge on Clodius at the trial of Caelius by assaulting Clodia’s reputation, in preference to a direct attack on Clodius. This raises questions about the substance of the accusation of incest directed against Clodia and her brother. After the murder of Clodius in

5 Skinner (2011) 4-5.

6 For the stereotypes: Dixon (2001) 133-137.

7 In defending Cluentius in 66 BC, Cicero had similarly assaulted the reputation of his defendant’s mother,

Sassia, picturing her as initiator of the case against Cluentius. Ige (2003) 48 summarises Sassia’s portrait.

8 Ige (2003) 45; on invective against Clodia and others: Richlin (1983) 97-104.

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52 BC, Cicero’s letters from 45 BC present a different image as he considers purchasing from her a site for a shrine to Tullia. She does not appear again, and even the date of her death is unknown.

If Clodia is identified with Lesbia, the course of her affair with Catullus is problematic.

Displaying despair, and anger as the affair ends, Catullus claims that she was a serial heart- breaker, whose lovers numbered three hundred (11.17-20: ilia rumpens, breaking their balls).

This hyperbole colours the supposed historical affair underlying the poetic narrative.9

Catullus unravels his experience dramatically.10 Wiseman dates the affair, and consequently the poems, after 56 BC, when Catullus returned from Bithynia.11 Even if we accept this timing, the poet could construct his text from considerably earlier events. On Wiseman’s hypothesis, the supposed affair with Catullus only began after the death of Clodia’s husband,

Metellus Celer, in 59 BC, although Catullus is clear that the episode was adulterous (83), creating chronological problems which Wiseman solves by doubting whether Clodia Metelli is Lesbia.12 Despite the colourful material, apparently Clodia died without remarrying.13 No further husbands are on record.

The Catullan poems generate a picture of Lesbia as a sought after and urbane character who played off high status admirers at will – a sexual predator who had no trouble attracting new victims (11.19-20). Cicero constructed a comparable image of Clodia in the Pro Caelio, but the view in the letters is significantly more moderate.

9 Discussed by Dixon (2001) 137-140.

10 Wiseman (1969) 42-49; (1985) 175.

11 Wiseman (1969) 42-49.

12 For discussion: Dixon (2001) 140; Skinner (2011) 133.

13 Skinner (1983) 285; Tatum (1999) 34.

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Applying the tests

Traditional roles

Clodia as wife and mother

Clodia’s role as a mother is not highlighted, because the evidence covers later phases of her life; when Metella appears in Cicero’s letters during 45 BC as Clodia’s adult daughter, Clodia was in close contact with her and looking after her interests. Metella had an affair with

Cicero’s son-in-law, Dolabella, which caused Tullia considerable upset.14 Cicero’s allusive comments are hostile. Metella’s approximate birth date should be close to 70 BC; she married

P. Cornelius Lentulus Spinther in about 53 BC. Other possible reconstructions include a considerably earlier birth date, and a further husband before Spinther.15 Skinner suggests that

Celer organised the betrothal before his death in 59 BC, demonstrating his approval of

Spinther’s conservative political orientation.16 This assumes that Clodia would have objected to Spinther’s political stance. Wiseman concurs, and suggests that the fight over the betrothal of Metella might underlie Clodia’s fights with Celer during 60 BC (Att. 2.1.5/21).17 Evidence reveals Clodia’s considerable support for her brother, but she may not have endorsed all his flexible political views during the fifties.18 Clodia and her husband may not have been so far apart politically.

Clodia as traditional intermediary

14 Metella also appears in the poems of L. Ticida under the pseudonym Perilla: Skinner (2011) 92-94.

15 Her spouse Spinther was born close to 73 BC, and Wiseman suggests 53 BC for the marriage. Metella was probably younger: Wiseman (1974a) 188.

16 Skinner (2011) 90.

17 Wiseman (1974a) 188.

18 Gruen (1966) 120-130

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Cicero, before the career of Clodius damages his relationship with Clodia, used Clodia in conjunction with Mucia (Metellus’ stepsister and Pompey’s wife) in a commonplace role as intermediary to pacify Quintus Caecilius Metellus Nepos, the brother or stepbrother of her husband. This was a response to an angry letter from Celer, then governor of Cisalpine Gaul, which vented Celer’s anger at Cicero for attacking his Metellus Nepos (Fam. 5.1/ 1, Celer to

Cicero, Cisalpine Gaul, Jan. 62 BC). Nepos, whose populist politics clashed with those of

Celer, became tribune on 10 Dec. 63 BC, five days after the execution of the Catilinarian conspirators, and threatened Cicero with prosecution. The Senate backed Cicero, and passed the SCU to remove Nepos, but soon reinstated Nepos, although not before Celer sent his angry letter from Cisalpine Gaul; his arrogant tone underlines that family honour is at stake; he takes offence and supports Nepos against the upstart Cicero, despite Celer’s political proximity to Cicero.19

Cicero attempted to pacify Celer, pledging unqualified support, and arguing that justified attacks on Nepos should not affect their relationship. Clodia and Mucia were to attempt to negotiate with Nepos over the delicate political matter (Fam. 5.2.6/2, Cicero to Celer, Rome mid-January 62 BC).20 Cicero hoped to defuse the situation, and deter Nepos. Cicero’s closeness to Pompey (to whom Mucia was still married) explains his trust of Mucia, but

Clodia must also have been favoured.21 Clodia was then still on entirely amicable terms with

19 On Celer’s pride: Dio 37.50.3.

20 Here denominated Claudia, perhaps out of respect, or because she was not at this stage directly associated with Clodius: Skinner(1983) 83; Hejduk (2008) 32-36.

21 Pompey alienated Celer through divorcing Mucia on return from the East. Celer’s enmity resulted in many setbacks for Pompey when Celer was consul (60 BC): Plut. Pomp. 42. This hastened the formation of the First triumvirate: Haley (1985) 50. Asconius, Plutarch, and Suetonius mention claims of infidelity (Asc. 20C; Plut.

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her husband, and his kin.22 Cicero aimed to use the women to pacify Nepos without troubling his ally. The letter concludes by enumerating injuries inflicted by Nepos, and a plea for

Celer’s continued support. Celer was mollified, and continued to support Cicero, but the intercession had no effect on Nepos (Fam. 5.2.7/2).

Clodia and the Civil war

Clodia may have left Rome early in 49 BC as fears about the Civil war mounted (Fam.

14.18.1-2/144, Formiae 22 January 49 BC). Cicero’s letter from Formiae (11th March 49 BC) reports that a Clodia, possibly Clodia Metelli, left Italy along with Pompey’s considerable entourage (Att. 9.6.3/172).23 She is named as the mother-in-law of a tribune, L. Metellus, located at Capua, to whom she sent details of the departure. He could be a first husband of

Clodia’s daughter, Metella. If Clodia chose to follow Pompey in 50/49 BC, this might fit with her notions of support for family, and could help to explain Clodia’s later interchange with

Cicero over the site for Tullia’s shrine.

Clodia and Tullia’s shrine

Ciceronian letters from 45 BC imply reconciliation with Clodia after his treatment of her in the Pro Caelio. Atticus was a friend of Clodia and Clodius, and may have had a role.24 The letters postdate Tullia’s death in February 45 BC, when Cicero was distracting himself from his profound grief through writing. Clodia owned gardens deemed suitable for a shrine to

Tullia (Att. 12.38a/279, Astura 7 May 45 BC), probably those mentioned as the scene for her

Pomp. 42.7;Suet. Iul.50.1). Cicero’s proximity to Clodia could explain Terentia’s concern about their relationship (Plut. Cic. 29.2-3).

22 Skinner (1983) 83.

23 Wiseman prefers the ex-wife of Lucullus: (1974a) 113; (1985) 52.

24 Skinner (1983) 283.

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assignations (Cael. 36).25 He appears familiar with the site from visits. He asks Atticus to intervene, but doubts whether Clodia will sell, since she is prosperous and enjoys the property. The portrait is of a grand aristocrat of substance.26 Like other late republican women, she has control over the disposal of her property; earlier, in 56 BC, Clodia was still in the tutela of her brothers (Cael. 68).27 Clodia’s gardens remain high on Cicero’s list (Att

12.42/282, Astura 10 May 45 BC; Att. 12.41/283 Astura 11 May 45 BC; Att. 12.43/284

Astura 12 May 45 BC; Att. 12.44/285 Astura 13 May 45 BC; Att. 13.26/286 Astura 14 May

45 BC). He is soon even keener on Clodia’s property, and wants to price it (Att. 12.47/288

Lanuvium 16 May 45 BC). A few days later, Atticus apparently tries to put him off. Cicero remains unstoppable and asks for details (Att. 12.52/294 Tusculum 21 May 45 BC). Later in

May, he believes he can purchase the property when Dolabella returns Tullia’s dowry (Att.

13.29/300 Tusculum 27 May 45 BC). The final letter, nearly a year later, seems to ask what

Clodia has done about the sale of the property (Att. 14.8/362 Sinuessa 16 April 44 BC).

Nothing clear emerges. Cicero is on civil or better terms with Clodia over ten years after the trial of Caelius. Atticus sets up the transaction, but there is no surprise here, since Atticus often acts as Cicero’s financial agent. Somehow, and remarkably, Clodia has chosen to end the feud, and put the personally damaging allegations aside. This financial dealing, although it never came to fruition, shows that women of Clodia’s status now freely disposed of their property by using suitable intermediaries of status such as Atticus to assist with negotiations.

Controversial roles

Clodia as intermediary

25 For Clodia’s gardens and the idea of a shrine: Shackleton Bailey (1965-70) 5.412-413.

26 Skinner (1983) 285.

27 Dixon (1984) 347 n. 19.

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The role of intermediary was not always traditional. In April 59 BC, Atticus and Clodius exchanged political information through Clodia, who was well versed in the political situation.28 She was located at Solonium, near Lanuvium, and indirectly named, under the sobriquet ‘Ox-eyes’, never employed in public.29 Clodia is a source of intelligence for Cicero as a result of friendship between Atticus and both Clodia and Clodius. This is really a traditional role, but willingly exploited by Cicero, Clodia, and Clodius to achieve political goals.

Cicero only had indirect access to Clodia and Clodius – because of the deterioration of his relationship with Clodius. Clodia was presumably meeting her brother at her villa.30 Cicero speculates on his own standing with Pompey after Clodius had been supported for the tribunate. He expects Atticus to get intelligence via Clodia (Att. 2.9/29, Antium 16-17 April

59 BC), and shows bitterness about Atticus’ closeness to Clodia and Clodius. Cicero benefited from his close friendship with the flexible Atticus, who leaned towards the optimate cause, but kept out of mainstream politics (Nepos Att.6.1). Nevertheless, Atticus had contact with all major players. Both Cicero and Atticus appreciated that Clodia’s role was essentially political. Clodia too must have appreciated that Atticus would communicate information about Clodius’ activities. This is a traditional role which is being expanded to its limits and beyond.

28 Suetonius reports that Augustus recognised the political value of dealing with women: Suet. Aug. 69.1;

Wardle (2014) 440-441.

29 Solonium: Shackleton Bailey (1965) Att. 2.3.3/23 n. 3; Wiseman (1985) 42; see Cic. De Div. 1.79, in ager

Lanuvinus. Ox-eyes: so named five times by Cicero (Att. 2.9/29; 2.12/30; 2.14/34; 2.22/42; 2.23/43). For this coded designation: Griffith (1996) 381-383. For its implication of sexual laxity: Langlands (2006) 72; Cic. Cael.

49: flagrantia oculorum.

30 Wiseman (1985) 42.

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Transgressive roles

Clodia and politics

Support for family can to a degree justify Clodia’s assistance to Clodius, but the actual conduct of brother and sister was considered by Cicero to exceed acceptable norms. Her case shows how the expanded ambit within which elite Roman women were operating affected the representation of their support for family.

Clodia’s image as a transgressor is already evident in Cicero’s correspondence in 60 BC, before the death of her husband. A high priority is given to her role assisting her brother’s political career, and his election to the tribunate, which led to Cicero’s departure from Italy.

Cicero blames Clodia for cruelty to Terentia and the destruction of Palatine house in 58 BC.

He uses his defence of Caelius as an opportunity to get revenge on both Clodius and Clodia, and to publicise the extent of her ‘transgressions’. She is accused of an immoral lifestyle, including incest, employing agents to rape Vettius (Cael. 71), and influencing the trial of

Cloelius (Cael. 78). Above all, Cicero attempts to show that her wealth has put her above the law.

Celer’s consulship in 60 BC gave Clodia considerable indirect power as consular wife. She is soon using her status to help her brother’s career. Celer, despite discomfort, supported

Clodius, and soon introduced a measure to activate Clodius’ transition to plebeian status, which would enable him to stand for the tribunate. Cicero was displeased, but still professed friendship towards Celer; however, a tribune, C. Herennius, had already sent forward a plebiscitum on this matter, and Cicero claims that Celer lost face by backing it in the comitia centuriata (Att. 1.18.4-5/18, 20 Jan. 60 BC).31 Celer returned to Cicero’s favour later in the

31 For Clodius’ adoption: Lindsay (2009a) 174-189.

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year, by blocking Clodius (Att. 2.1/21. Antium ? c. June 60 BC). Cicero also hints that Clodia is asserting her prestige as a consular wife, but is in conflict with her husband.32 Cicero is openly hostile to her, and claims that she is also quarrelling with Fabius (Att. 2.1.5/21). 33

Cicero disapproves both of her alignment with Clodius and her morality. The incest charge is transferred from the younger to the elder sister in the best traditions of generic abuse. Clodius favoured not just one sister.34 In the Pro Caelio too invective gathered colour from the allegation that Clodius engaged in incest with his younger sister Clodia at the time of her divorce from Lucullus in 66 BC (Plut. Cic. 29.4; Lucull. 38.1).35 Lucullus originally took on

Clodia without a dowry because of the high standing of her family (Varro RR 3.16.2).36

Clodia’s role is political, and from Cicero’s viewpoint, meddlesome; her transgressive behaviour justifies the abuse. Clodia uses her husband’s status in her brother’s interest. This letter shows that Clodia was already promoting her brother’s cause before her husband’s death in 59 BC. Cicero’s view is that she and her arrogant brother are isolating themselves from political respectability. His response is to feed hostile gossip with the best rhetorical tools.37

32 When Clodius boasted of his sister’s capacity to distribute benefits from her husband’s consular status, Cicero sent Clodius a sharp response, a piece of off-colour banter alluding to his incestuous relationship with Clodia.

33 Possibly another lover, well known to Atticus. There is Q. Fabius Sanga who informed Cicero at the time of the Catilinarian conspiracy (Sall. Cat. 41.4); Shackleton Bailey ad loc.

34 Skinner (2011) 85-86.

35 Skinner speculates about the psychological impact of their upbringing on their closeness to their brother, but doubts the incest charge: Cael. 36: (2011) 54-55; 63; 77.

36 Clodia Metelli might have been in a comparable position when she married Metellus: Treggiari (1991) 90; cf.

Skinner (2011) 54-55.

37 Santoro L’hoir (1992) 23.

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Cicero talks of Ox-Eyes’ war trumpets – alluding to Clodia’s support for her brother (Att.

2.12.2/30, Tres Tabernae 19 April 59 BC).38 Atticus had contact with Clodius through Clodia

(Att. 2.14/34, Rome c. 26 April 59 BC). In the earlier letter, Atticus reported that Caesar had denied giving support to Clodius’ adoption, but meantime Cicero heard from Curio of

Clodius’ adoption by a plebeian, and his candidacy for the tribunate. Later, Cicero, concerned about Clodius’ growing role in Roman politics, craves Atticus’ presence at Rome to transmit

Clodian plans; Cicero, uncertain of political alignments, needed Atticus’ superior networks to confirm that Pompey was trying to calm Clodius (Att. 2.22/42, Rome August? 59 BC).39

Finally, he writes that he is keeping out of politics, but has heard that Clodius is working against Pompey, despite denying it to his face. Pompey is already notably disturbed (Att.

2.23/43 Rome August? 59 BC). Clodius later reached reconciliation with Pompey after the trial of Caelius.40

After Cicero’s departure in 58 BC, matters were precarious for Terentia and Tullia. Cicero retrospectively blamed both Clodius and Clodia. Clodius dedicated the site of Cicero’s

Palatine house to libertas (Leg. 2.42), and Terentia faced difficult times, apparently at the instigation of Clodius (Dom. 59).41 On return to Italy, Cicero blamed Clodia for Terentia’s cruel treatment in his absence – whether fairly or not (Cael. 50).42 Her role is represented as shocking and transgressive.

38 Skinner (2011) 65.

39 Wiseman unduly waters down Clodia’s political role here: (1985) 43-44.

40 Wiseman (1974a) 162-165; (1985) 90.

41 Carp (1981) 193; Treggiari (2007) 65-66; Brennan (2012) 356.

42 Perhaps Terentia visited Clodia as part of the normal protocol of approaching female relatives of the powerful: Treggiari (2007) 66.

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A letter to Quintus dates from after Cicero’s return to Italy (QF 2.3/7 Rome 12 & 15

February 56 BC). He reports the first hearing of the trial of Milo on 2 February. Cicero was pleased with his performance and Pompey’s support. On February 6 the Clodian gangs interrupted Pompey. Clodius then stood up, and exchanged abuse. The response was slander against Clodius and Clodia, and a riot against Clodius after he denounced Pompey. Some of the abuse employed in the Pro Caelio may already have been in the public domain well before the trial of Caelius. He was already making the claim privately in 60 BC (Att.

2.1.5/21).43

Clodius, perhaps assisted by Clodia, contrived Cicero’s departure in 58 BC, and Pro Caelio was delivered only eight months after Cicero’s return. A few days before the trial (3-4 April

56 BC), Cicero claims that Clodia had considerable influence on the acquittal of Cloelius, her brother’s henchman and agent, and one of Clodia’s alleged lovers (Cael. 78; Dom. 25; 83).44

Role in the death of Celer

Cicero blackens Clodia as Palatine Medea, a brazen and dissipated whore, claimed to have poisoned her husband, Celer, three years before the trial of Caelius (59 BC) (Cael. 18; 59-

60).45 The Roman male imagination connected poisoning and adultery, and with this rhetorical opportunity Cicero played on his audience’s knowledge of tensions within Celer’s marriage – perhaps originating in Clodia’s support for her brother, rather than any sexual activities. Had the Augustan Lex Iulia de Adulteriis Coercendis of 18 BC been in place, adultery with either Cloelius or Caelius while Celer was alive would have had dire

43 Skinner (2011) 68-69.

44 On textual problems: Shackleton Bailey (1960) 41-42. Cloelius: Wiseman (1985) 41; Damon (1992) 227-250;

Skinner (2011) 66-67.

45 Hejduk (2008) 3; Dyck (2013) 86.

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consequences for Clodia.46 Cicero did not attempt to prove adultery, merely suggesting it by innuendo. Perhaps he could not. An affair after Celer’s death would amount to stuprum, and

Cicero could make much of that.

Allegations related to the trial of Caelius and prominence in the forum

Cicero argues that Clodia was bitter over her rejection by her former lover, Caelius, and her sexual misbehaviour makes her testimony untrustworthy.47 He does not clarify or answer the charges levelled against Caelius, which include scheming to poison Clodia, his ex-lover.48

The prosecution’s allegations concentrate on Caelius’ disreputable urban life. Cicero maintains that the case against Caelius represents an abuse of power. There is an inequality between the parties; Caelius was a young man of promise, not a youth swamped by vice, and his affair with Clodia was excusable because of his youth and inexperience. Cicero’s approach turns the tables on Clodia; her decadent and arrogant life is subject to comparison with the innocuous life of Caelius.49 The power and wealth of rich women is represented as in itself transgressive.

Although Cicero claims that Clodia mounted the prosecution, the actual prosecutor was L.

Sempronius Atratinus - only seventeen years old, supported by Herennius Balbus and P.

46 McGinn (1998a) 147.

47 Dixon suggests that Cicero creates a fictional scenario, and notes this as a typical strategy to demean Clodia:

(2001) 146.

48 Austin (1952) 152-154; Dyck (2013) 57-58. For Cicero’s use of humour: Dixon (2001) 141-146.

49 For the focus on Clodia: Hillard (1989) 170.

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Clodius.50 Cicero wants to highlight Clodia’s intrusion into public life in the forum. Cicero singles out the youthful Atratinus as a man of straw put up by Clodia to manage the case.

This both assigns and indicts Clodia’s political power. Cicero transfers the attack to Clodia; he avoids a direct revenge attack against Clodius. Cicero ironically excuses Atratinus’ involvement – motivated by pietas towards his father, L. Calpurnius Bestia, once prosecuted by Caelius, and in danger of a further prosecution (Cael. 1-2). Cicero represents Clodia as manipulating others to forward her petty aims.51 Cicero portrays the prosecutors as excessively keen on proving Caelius’ infringements, by setting too high a standard for contemporary urban youth. To debunk the value of the past, Cicero employs the persona of

Appius Claudius Caecus, censor 312 BC, whose unpalatable view of the past encourages its rejection (Cael. 33-34). He rebukes Clodia for going outside family for company – an irony.52

Cicero then uses her brother Clodius as a character advising Clodia not to fuss so much over rejection by a former lover (Cael. 36).

Cicero’s speech concentrates on picturing Caelius as respectable and close to his father (Cael.

3-9; 16-18). Two charges worthy of responsewere taking gold from Clodia, and seeking poison to administer to Clodia. Everything else was irrelevant. Clodia, a woman noble, notorious, and rich, is behind both charges, and without them, there is no case (Cael. 30-32).

Cicero claims entitlement to name her – despite her status as a materfamilias – because of the charges. He also slips in a jest about her relationship with her brother, and her loose living

50 Dyck thinks this is Clodia’s brother: (2013) 7. For the debate: Dyck (2005). For sceptical discussion of who was behind the prosecution of Caelius: Dorey (1958) 178; cf. Bauman (1992) 72, allowing both Bestia and

Clodia a role.

51 As Vasaly points out, the argument contrasts old-fashioned virtue and contemporary urban vice: (1993) 172-

173

52 Vasaly (1993) 174-175.

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(amicam omnium, everyone’s paid sexual partner). Cicero outlines the charges (Cael. 51-55;

56-69), and deals with the evidence summarily. By representing Clodia as a transgressor and meretrix, he undermines her testimony, and emphasises her use of unreliable witnesses.53 Her gardens by the Tiber are for assignations, and her too familiar relationship with her slaves further confirms her base character.54 She is a habituée of the decadent environment at Baiae

(Cael. 49).55 Cicero also authorises the inexperienced Caelius to have a liaison with her, and describes Caelius’ blameless career thus far, with few signs of waywardness (Cael. 72-78).

The offence is not adultery, but rather stuprum, because of Clodia’s status as a widow.56

Cicero optimises his defence of Caelius by making Clodia central to the prosecution, and emphasising her political power.57 Her initiation of the prosecution seems questionable.

Punishing opponents

In Pro Caelio, Cicero implicates Clodia in the punishment of a certain Vettius, assaulted homosexually at her behest by M. Camurtius and C. Caesarinus, and thus exemplifying

Clodia’s arrogant and domineering sense of self. 58 These men suffered execution, but their assault on Vettius had been justified as a response to a slight against Clodia.59 If the slight

53 McGinn (1998a) 63.

54 Santoro L’hoir (1992) 45-46. Cicero designates Clodia as imperatrix, a further usurpation of male roles (Cael.

67): Hillard (1989) 172.

55 D’Arms (1970) 52-53; Hillard (1992) 50-51; Dixon (2001) 145.

56 Fantham (1991) 274-275.

57 On the impact on Roman women of talk of immorality and prostitution: Strong (2016) 206.

58 Wiseman (1985) 38-39.

59 The application of the name quadrantaria to Clodia (Plut. Cic. 29.4)? A quadrans was a quarter of an as - the entry fee to the baths - and the implication seems to be that this was Clodia’s charge for sex. Quintilian says that

Caelius in his defence speech had called Clodia quadrantaria Clytemnestra (Inst. 8.6.53), and Cicero revisits his

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was the name of quadrantaria, this was a significant slur with implications of sexual promiscuity.60 Cicero raises Vettius’ humiliation as an excessive response by Clodia, which, like the prosecution of Caelius, cast a shadow over Clodia and her brother (Cael. 71).61 A subsequent life away from the spotlight may have had its appeal.62

Clodia as meretrix

Cicero’s attack on Clodia’s reliability avoided focus on Caelius. The case against Caelius supposedly originated in his affair with her, a considerably older woman, and resulting bitter charges against Caelius.63 Cicero attacked Clodia with allegations of poisoning her husband

(Palatina Medea, the Medea of the Palatine: Cael. 18), incest with her brother, and

demeaning phraseology (Cael. 62: mulier potens quadrantaria illa permutatione: that powerful woman through her cheap-jack payoff…).

60 Geffcken (1973) 32; 37; Wiseman (1985) 76.

61 Bauman identifies the Vettius subjected to assault as L. Vettius who assisted Cicero at the time of the

Catilinarian conspiracy: (1992) 71-72.

62 Wiseman notes her absence after the murder of Clodius in 52 BC: (1985) 52; cf. Dixon (2001) 143-144;

Skinner (2011) 71-72. Caelius, after acquittal, abandoned his new prosecution of Bestia, and Clodia does not reappear in the record for some time.

63 This is part of Cicero’s attack on Clodia’s unsavoury and untrustworthy status as a witness; she is represented as an adultress who has seduced an adulescens: Santoro L’hoir (1992) 41; 43.

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accusations of living the life of a libertine and prostitute.64 Cicero’s rhetoric avoids questions of politics, and the probable role of Clodius in the charges against Caelius.65

Cicero’s defence of Caelius concentrates on Clodia’s private motives, and avoids the political motives of Clodius for Caelius’ prosecution. He attempts to uncover petty issues, related to

Clodia’s disorderly life. Cicero portrays her wealth and freedom of manoeuvre as a threat to the justice system, reflecting male anxieties fuelled by disapproval of the growing role of elite women.66 Emphasis falls on Clodia’s disruptive and trifling concerns rather than a serious public role.

Plutarch claims that Clodius and Cicero cooperated against the Catilinarians in 63 BC,67 and remained friends until Clodius’ trial for sacrilege in 61 BC (Plut. Cic. 28.1; Caes. 10.1-7; cf.

Asc. 66C).68 Plutarch reports the rumour that Terentia suspected Cicero of a liaison with

Clodia, and that Clodia had designs on Cicero. Cicero incriminated Clodius in the Bona Dea scandal to pacify Terentia (Plut. Cic. 29.1-4; cf. Fam.5.2.6/20).69 Two years later, Caelius was still under attack from the Clodian faction. Cicero, in a letter to his brother Quintus, does

64 For the topos of the adultress poisoner in Roman rhetoric: Ad Herennium 4.16.23, analysed by Santoro L’hoir

(1992) 41 n. 36. On terminology aimed at discrediting Clodia: Santoro L’hoir (1992) 40-41; Strong (2016) 100-

105; 206. On the impact of infamia on Clodia’s credibility as a witness: Wiseman (1985) 85

65 Caelius was living in a Palatine apartment owned by Clodius from 59 BC; by late 57 BC, he appears to have been working clandestinely for Ptolemy Auletes; conflict arose with Clodius and his sister when they discovered this: Wiseman (1985) 64-68.

66 Skinner (2011) 6.

67 Cicero claims that Clodius was on good terms with Catiline: Mil. 37 Har. Resp. 5. So too Caelius: Cael.10.

68 Zevi (2004) 27-29, Cicero and Clodius operating together at Ostia.

69 On Cicero’s role at the trial and its impact: Richlin (2014b) 43. Jealousy: Hillard (1992) 48 - a possibility; cf.

Skinner (2011) 9.

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not highlight Clodia’s continuing role (QF 2.12.2/16, Rome 14 February 54 BC; valde oppugnatur a gente Clodia, he is under extreme attack from the Clodian family).

Conclusions

The realities of Clodia’s life are hard to extract from this material, but she appears to have lived life to the full, was involved in the political life of her husband, and supported her brother Clodius, during his controversial political career in the 50s BC.

Her aristocratic background ensured high status marriage and considerable wealth. She appears in Cicero’s letters in 62 BC and in 60 BC, when her status as a consular wife facilitated support for her brother. Her friendship with Atticus enabled Cicero to monitor her brother’s political moves, and Clodius and Cicero found it mutually convenient to keep lines of communication open. Despite Celer’s optimate politics, even during her husband’s lifetime, Clodia publicly promoted her brother’s career. Clodia’s case could demonstrate that progressive elite women dared to manifest beliefs to suit themselves; but, in Clodia’s case, the call of family loyalty appears paramount. Cicero writes to Atticus and characterises her role with the distinctive phrase ‘Ox-eyes’ war trumpets’ (Att. 2.12.2/30, Tres Tabernae 19

April 59 BC) – a hostile reference to inappropriate female power. Only a little earlier in the middle of 62 BC, Cicero employed Pompey’s wife, Mucia, and Clodia, as a means to shore up his relationship with Celer. Within two years, Clodius’ career began to intrude as Clodius attacked Cicero’s handling of the Catilinarian conspirators.

Cicero already insults Clodius and Clodia in 60 BC. Even before the trial of Caelius in April

56 BC, at the trial of Milo in February, Cicero reports scurrilous abuse directed at the relationship between Clodius and Clodia, claimed to emanate from the crowd. This foreshadowed Cicero’s full assault in April. The abuse focused on Clodius’ supposed

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unnatural relationship with his sister, and their destructive political unity. He identifies Clodia as quarrelsome and destructive of relationships. Despite Cicero’s disapproval, Atticus remained close to Clodius and Clodia, and employed Clodia as an intermediary. Clodia, knowing of Cicero’s friendship with Atticus, allowed Cicero indirectly to learn of his adversaries’ activities. Cicero was concerned that Clodius seemed increasingly likely to obtain the tribunate. As it turned out, this tribunate did motivate Cicero’s departure.

Clodia was widowed in 59 BC, in early middle age. Soon after this, her relationship with

Caelius Rufus started (apparently). Cicero links her to Clodius’ campaign to force his departure, and the shameful treatment of Terentia. Cicero’s defence of Caelius in 56 BC led to the major assault on her reputation. The prosecution seems to have aimed to destroy the political prospects of a rising politician (Caelius), but Clodia became the target. The Pro

Caelio deliberately avoids covering the charges against Caelius – suggesting that they had some substance. Attention turns instead to Clodia and her style of life. Cicero pictures a transgressive Roman female - a petty individual obsessed with the private impulses in her life.70 In this way, Cicero uses her gender and her sexual availability to disengage the case against Caelius from its political context. Clodia’s centrality to Cicero’s case must have seemed plausible to a Roman audience. Cicero in the speech produces other evidence in support of her petty vendettas (Cael. 71). Cicero obscures realistic political goals, of benefit to her and her brother, by attributing to her the motive of selfish personal revenge.

The publication of the poems of Catullus at about the same time as the trial may or may not have done further damage. An issue is how her prominence in the Catullan poems, and the outcome of the case against Caelius, might have been digested by the public, and members of

70 Dixon (2001) 152.

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the elite. The question is whether observers took accusations in the Pro Caelio at face value, and how the Roman public reacted to Lesbia and her liaison with Catullus.

After the trial, Clodia’s life becomes obscure; she may have joined Pompey when he left Italy in 49 BC, but no details survive. Since her brother’s death in 52 BC, his political allegiances had no further relevance. She reappears when Cicero is seeking a site for a shrine dedicate to

Tullia. Letters exchanged with Atticus imply that the parties reached reconciliation, most probably through the intervention of Atticus. Cicero now talks of the splendour of her property, and her easy financial circumstances. There is no further talk of her lovers and a life of decadence at Baiae.

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Chapter 6: Servilia1

Background, significance and sources

Servilia’s patrician pedigree included claimed descent from Servilius Ahala, credited with saving Rome by despatching the potential tyrant, Sp. Maelius, with a concealed dagger (439

BC: Livy 4.13-14; Dion. Hal. Ant. 12.4; Plut. Brut. 1.5). Her father, Servilius Caepio, died in the Social war, during her childhood, and her brother in 67 BC, leaving her as the prime representative of her clan;2 her brother adopted Servilia’s son, Brutus, who became known as

Quintus Servilius Caepio Brutus.3 She stands out amongst late Republican aristocracy as the half-sister of Cato Uticensis, the great grandson of Cato the Censor and a central figure before his suicide in 46 BC.4 Servilia had a network of connections with the Porcian and

Servilian gentes, linking her to other prominent figures.5 Servilia is famed as the mother of

Caesar’s assassin, Brutus. Her informal networks were substantial.

The prominence of Servilia’s family and Servilia’s relationships with significant males and females made her conspicuous: political contacts included her half-brother Cato and his clan, her own son Brutus, Caesar, Cicero, the husbands of her three daughters, and an extensive network of elite women. Her authority derived from considerable extension of traditional domestic roles (materna auctoritas: Asc. 19C).6 She was married twice and had children by both marriages.

1 Main modern accounts: Geiger (1973); Bauman (1992) 73-76; Münzer (1999) 308-344; Borrello (2016).

2 Osgood (2014) 47.

3 Shackleton Bailey (1991) 83-84; Lindsay (2009a) 151-152.

4 Aulus Gellius NA 13.20 on the Porcian gens.

5 Explored by Wiseman (1974a) 181-186.

6 Brennan (2012) 361.

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After Caesar’s death she was very protective of her three daughters. When her second husband died, c. 60 BC, Servilia did not remarry, although she became Caesar’s mistress, and later his confidant.7 She remained close to Caesar until his death.8

From June 45 BC until after the death of Caesar, our main sources are surviving Ciceronian letters, which witness her influential circle and powerful contacts. They reveal the informal methods by which Servilia acted politically. Through Caesar, she protected her son, Brutus when he backed the Pompeians in the civil war; Brutus’ career had highs and lows before

Caesar’s assassination in 44 BC. Thereafter, Servilia still protected his interests, helped by

Cicero and others. Main sources are Cicero’s letters, and Plutarch’s ‘Life of Brutus’. Cicero is deferential, and the letters uncover the interplay between well connected women and male political life. Servilia’s pedigree influenced Cicero. His contact with Servilia kept him informed about Brutus’ plans, and enabled comparison with other perspectives. His actions show his respect for her confidences.

Limitations of the evidence

Servilia’s political allegiance never emerges in detail because of the emphasis on managing family interests. Evidence for her activities only begins in the 50s after widowhood when she would be well over 40. We thus have a relatively limited window into her life, but her relationship with Caesar and Ciceronian letters from mid-45 BC until after Caesar’s death, reveal much about how she operated, and provide valuable insights into female networks and

7 Some believe the relationship predated her widowhood: Porte (1994) 465-466.

8 Caesar and Servilia had distinguished families originating from Alba, contributing to the depth of their relationship. Suitable pedigree was always crucial in Roman political circles: Münzer (1999) 362. On the fortunes of the Servilian gens: Geiger (1973) 143. On Caesar’s efforts at building the reputation of the ancestral

Julii: Badian (2009).

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their operation. Cicero, through friendship with Brutus, can use her to track political developments.

Applying the tests

Traditional roles

Early life, marriages and family

Servilia was born in about 100 BC. After the early death of her parents, she was transferred to the control of Livius Drusus, her maternal uncle, with her sister, Servilia, her brother, Q.

Servilius Caepio, and her half-brother Cato (Plut. Cat.min. 1.1).9 Drusus was at the centre of political life when he died as tribune in 91 BC. Since her mother Livia and Livia’s husbands were dead, all the children were cared for by their grandmother, Cornelia (Ad Herennium

4.31).10 The loss of crucial family so early in life may have developed her self-reliance, and her wealth ensured sophisticated education.11

Servilia famously continued to have virtually a mother’s influence over Cato (Asc. 19C).12

Plutarch regarded Cato as unfortunate in his female relatives (Plut. Cat.min. 24.2-3; Lucull.

38.1), but Cato nevertheless acted as guardian to Servilia’s sister, the widow of Lucullus,

9 Livia, Servilia’s mother, married Q. Servilius Caepio, then M. Porcius Cato: Münzer (1999) 267-275. For the complicated relationships in the family: Means and Dickison (1974) 210-215. On Drusus as praiseworthy uncle:

Harders (2009) 228-229.

10 Münzer (1999) 274; 390.

11 Fantham et al. (1994) 272.

12 For discussion of the term materna auctoritas and the possibility that Cicero coined it: Hillard (1989) 165;

175; (1992) 53-54.

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despite her compromised reputation (Plu. Cat.min. 54.2).13 Alleged amoral attitudes to sex need careful scrutiny, as they often mask what are seen by Roman males as infringements of political protocols. They can show that prominent women are promoting the interests of family in ways that have met male disapproval. This view of Servilian women can be contrasted with the picture of Cornelia putting the state first, ahead of personal and family interests.14

Servilia’s first husband, M. Iunius Brutus, tribune in 83 BC, was involved in the abortive coup mounted by M. Lepidus against the Sullan regime in 78 BC, and, after surrendering, was treacherously murdered by Pompey (77 BC).15 The family never forgave Pompey and

Servilia’s political views appear to have followed suit (Plut. Cat.min. 30.3). Nevertheless,

Brutus joined the Pompeian camp in the civil war. After her first husband’s murder, Servilia married D. Iunius Silanus, cos. 62 BC, in 76 BC, or soon after; he is thought to have died c.

60 BC.16 His career depended on his consular ancestry and Cato’s support.17 This background and the marriage to Servilia insulated Silanus from prosecution for bribery

13 The sexual behaviour of earlier Servilian women does attract criticism from the Augustan contemporary

Timagenes: Strabo 4.1.13=C188, citing Timagenes’ claim that the daughters of Q. Caepio, cos. 106 BC, turned to prostitution and died in shame. This was supposed to be Caepio’s punishment for seizing Gallic gold from

Tolosa because it had been purloined from Delphi by the Tectosages. Compare Treggiari (2019) 38-39, accepting the tradition.

14 Richlin (2014b) 43-48.

15 Tempest (2017) 24.

16 For his suitable pedigree: Münzer (1999) 318; Africa (1978) 608. His grandfather was a patrician Manlius

Torquatus adopted into the plebeian Iunii Silani.

17 Gruen (1974) 29.

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related to his election to the consulate in 62 BC (Plut. Cat. min. 21.2-3).18 Cato was also on very good terms with his elder stepbrother, Q. Servilius Caepio (Plut. Cat. min. 3.3).19

Servilia had three daughters from her second marriage, born between 76-72 BC,20 and a son

M. Iunius Brutus from her first marriage, born in about 79 BC (Cic. Brut. 324).21 The daughters’ marriages demonstrate her use of traditional networks, including Cato’s involvement in the selection process (Plut. Cat. min. 30.2) One daughter apparently married

P. Servilius Isauricus, and the granddaughter later married the younger Lepidus (Vell.

2.88.3).22 The remaining daughters were married to Lepidus and Cassius respectively. The marriage to Lepidus renewed the alliance between Servilia’s first husband and Lepidus’ father, the architect of the failed coup in 78 BC, highlighting enduring family loyalties.23 The

18 Münzer (1999) 320.

19 Münzer (1999) 306. Aged about 20, they served together in the slave wars. They were still close when Caepio died in Thrace in 67 BC.

20 Münzer (1999) 323.

21 Syme (1980) 426: birth between 79-78 BC, based on Vell. 2.7.1: Porte (1994) 476-477; Tempest (2017) 11;

262 n. 28.

22 Syme (1986) 35 n.19. According to Velleius, when her husband was disgraced in 31/30 BC, she swallowed hot coals, replicating the death of Brutus’ wife, Porcia (Plut. Brut. 53.5-7). The latter story is generally doubted.

23 For a calculation of the ages of the parties: Münzer (1999) 324. A miniature portrait of Lepidus’ wife, Iunia, one of five Roman ladies so depicted , was found in the luggage of P. Vedius at Laodicea in Asia in 50 BC (Cic.

Att. 6.1.25). Cicero assumed that Iunia was one of Vedius’ lovers. Later, when the younger Lepidus was convicted of conspiring to kill Octavian in 31 or 30 BC (Livy Per.133; Suet. Aug. 19), his mother Iunia is said to have been implicated. Velleius mentions nothing of this when he mentions the suicide of the younger

Lepidus’ wife, Servilia (Vell. 2.88.3; Appian BC 4.50): Woodman (1983) 246-248. Cassius’ wife, Iunia Tertia or Tertulla, is supposed to have become one of Octavian’s mistresses (Suet. Aug. 69.2): Wiseman (1974a) 187.

Wardle doubts the attribution: (2014) 443. On Iunia Tertia’s long life and death in AD 22: Tac. Ann 3.76;

Münzer (1999) 323.

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women in this family were much talked about, and closely tied to leading political players, and to politically sensitive activities.

Servilia and the career of Brutus

The conflicted career of Servilia’s only son was central to her life, and she continued to support him throughout, sometimes controversially. Brutus hated Pompey for executing his father during his childhood (Plut. Pomp. 64.3; Brut. 4.2). Cato and his uncle, Q. Servilius

Caepio, his adopter, became Brutus’ role models.24 He and Cassius studied under Staberius

Eros (Suet. Gramm.13.1), but his teacher of rhetoric is unknown; Brutus’ later training was in

Athens and Rhodes (Plut. Brut. 2.2-3).25 Cato was the major influence on his formal education rather than Servilia. His relationship with his stepfather is uncharted, but Africa speculates about how his mother’s relationship with Caesar affected Brutus’ psychological development.26

Arranging marriages

Servilia had a traditional female role as a respected matrona in helping to match eligible girls with suitable high status partners. When in Cilicia in 51-50 BC, Cicero asked Servilia to help to find Tullia a new husband (Att. 5.4.1/97; 6.1.10/115: May 51, and Feb. 50). Servilia apparently offered advice taken up by Terentia and Tullia – to reach agreement with

Dolabella.27 On such matters, Servilia can thus be seen as a force to be reckoned with.

24 Possibly a testamentary adoption in 67 BC: Shackleton Bailey (1991) 83; Lindsay (2009a) 151-152. On the mechanics of this, and complications: Münzer (1999) 309-310. Role model: Harders (2009) 229.

25 Tempest (2017) 25-28.

26 Africa (1978) 608-609.

27 Jeppesen-Wigelsworth (2013) 74.

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Controversial roles

Servilia, tyranny, and late Republican politics

Servilia’s supposed descent from Servilius Ahala gave a pedigree to Brutus’ claimed hatred of tyrants (Plut. Brut. 1.3).28 Servilia’s role in this thinking is uncertain, but Cato, Brutus, and others in her circle promoted the fashion of linking family with legendary events and characters.29 Brutus traced his family back to the Brutus who expelled the Tarquins. Cicero relates that Brutus liked to emphasise the ancestral tyrant-slayers on both sides of his family

(Cic. Brut. 331; Att. 13.40.1/343, 17 August 45 BC).30 Atticus validated the research for

Brutus (Plut. Brut. 1.1; Nepos. Att. 18.3);31 details were doubted, not just by Brutus’ enemies

(Cic. Brut. 63).32

Servilia’s own political stance was surely influenced by her longstanding relationship with

Caesar, but she could not prevent Brutus from joining the Pompeians in 49 BC.33 Later, in

43-42 BC, she relied on Atticus as protector, a man of legendary political impartiality (Nepos

Att. 11.4).34 Caesar saved Brutus after Pharsalus allegedly out of regard for Servilia (Plut.

28 Rejected as propaganda by Bauman (1992) 76, but not an approach highlighted by Treggiari (2019) 24.

29 Wiseman (1974b).

30 Now explored in Tempest (2017) 17-20.

31 Horsfall (1989) 100-101.

32 Rawson (1986) 103.

33 Many women left Italy with Pompey on 4 March 49 BC (Att. 9.6.3/172). An earlier exodus from Rome occurred as fear of the impact of the Civil war grew (Fam. 14.18/144), and Servilia may have joined it.

34 Atticus was sympathetic to optimate politics, but outside mainstream politics, and, like Servilia, in touch with the influential: Shackleton Bailey (1965) I: 5-6; 27; 32-38; Welch (1996) 463-466; Lindsay (1998) 329-330;

Osgood (2014) 50. He was close to Q. Hortensius Hortalus, Cicero’s rival at the Roman bar (Nepos Att. 5.4);

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Brut. 5.1-2), although Plutarch emphasises mutual reconciliation (Plut. Brut. 6.1-6).35 Brutus continued to plot against Caesar, apparently without his mother’s knowledge, despite advancement to the praetorship through Caesar’s influence (44 BC).36 Servilia unsuccessfully opposed Brutus’ marriage to Porcia in 45 BC, a year after Cato’s death (Cic. Att.

13.22.4/329). The marriage reflected Brutus’ unrelenting allegiances. Porcia’s intemperate political views, inherited from her father Cato, fuelled Servilia’s displeasure because she believed that the marriage would damage Brutus’ political prospects.37 Porcia, a daring and forceful personality, was directly involved in Caesar’s murder (Dio 44.13.1).38 She had influential anti-Caesarian contacts, who trusted her as well as Brutus at a highly sensitive juncture.

Servilia’ political perspective is elusive, but much is known about her associates. Her early life had been shared with her stepbrother Cato, an outspoken critic of vices in others, who helped to generate conflict between Caesar and Pompey, and after Pharsalus committed suicide to avoid life under Caesar.39 In the period 46/45 BC, both Cicero and Brutus wrote memorials praising Cato, further contributing to political controversy. Cicero had hitherto

Hortalus’ daughter Hortensia married Servilia’s brother, and this may account for Atticus’ friendship with

Servilia: Shackleton Bailey (1965) I: 7.

35 Hallett (1984) 51-52.

36 On stories of ingratitude: Rawson (1986) 103

37 For anecdotal evidence about Porcia’s unflinching political stance: Osgood (2014) 126.

38 For hostile views of Brutus: Val. Max. 1.5.7; Vell. 2.25.5; Plut. Brut. 3.3: Tempest (2017) 5-6.

39 Africa (1978) 607-608

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thought of Brutus as a turncoat after Pharsalus.40 Servilia seems opposed to the Caesarians, despite Caesar’s infatuation with her (Suet. Iul. 50.2) – but her daughter Iunia’s husband, the future triumvir Lepidus, showed active signs of abandoning the cause of Brutus and Cassius in 43 BC; this caused Servilia and Iunia considerable discomfort as they tried to safeguard

Iunia’s children; Cicero took up their cause on Servilia’s behalf in the Senate (Cic. Ad Brut.

1.18.6/24, Rome 27 July 43 BC). The financial help received by Servilia from Atticus after the death of Brutus suggests that Servilia’s property had been sequestered by the triumvirs because of her alignment with the interests of Brutus (Nepos Att. 11.4). Family-matters largely drove Servilia’s political position; her grandchildren merited political interventions as well as Brutus.

Transgressive roles

Her position as Caesar’s mistress, and intervention to protect her son Brutus involved Servilia in political issues. Pillow talk reputedly enabled Servilia to extricate Brutus from trouble at the time of the Vettian affair in 59 BC, and Sevilia perhaps encouraged Caesar’s efforts to conciliate Brutus. Moreover, she did not resist the opportunity to profit from financial opportunities created by the victims of civil war.

Servilia as Caesar’s mistress41

The probably fictitious story of a love letter delivered to Caesar during a Senate meeting of

December 63 BC regarding the Catilinarian conspiracy suggests that the relationship between

40 Münzer (1999) 312-313: Caesar in response wrote two Anticatos. Brutus’ Cato later so upset the ageing

Augustus that he wrote a further refutation (Suet. Aug. 85) - apparently lengthy; when Augustus grew tired he had Tiberius complete the reading. For the implications: Wardle (2014) 483-484.

41 Now covered by Treggiari (2019) 99-114.

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Servilia and Caesar had already started (Plut. Cat.min. 24.1; Brutus 5.2). Nothing shows it was in place at the time of Brutus’ birth, despite rumours that Brutus was Caesar’s son (Suet.

Iul. 82.2; Plut. Brut. 5.1; App. BC 2.112).42 During Caesar’s confrontation with Cato in 63

BC, Servilia supposedly had her letter delivered. Cato immediately accused Caesar of involvement in the conspiracy, and Caesar produced the writing tablet to disprove this.43

Servilia’s implied capacity to contact Caesar during a Senatorial session underlines her reputation for unusual political influence, which would have been seriously transgressive, if the story is authentic.

According to Suetonius, Caesar gave Servilia a pearl worth 6,000,000 HS in 59 BC, considered a payoff for his marriage to Calpurnia (Suet. Iul. 50.2.).44 Caesar perhaps felt compelled to marry the younger woman because of his need for a male heir.45 In 59 BC

Calpurnia was about eighteen, whereas Servilia was about forty.

Intervention to protect Brutus

Some authorities suggest that Servilia hoped that Caesar would make Brutus his heir during the 50s, and identify Brutus as the Caepio or Servilius Caepio betrothed in 59 BC to marry

Caesar’s daughter, Iulia. Ultimately Iulia married Pompey, only to die in 54 BC (Plut. Caes.

14.3; Pomp. 47.4; Suet. Caes. 21; Appian BC 2.14; Dio 38.9.1).46 Brutus became

42 Syme (1980) 424-426; Münzer (1999) 362: ‘Malicious slander and dark melancholy merge strangely in the people’s belief that the godlike man had himself begotten his murderer in illicit relations with this noble woman’; Porte (1994) 474-476.

43 Interpreted as a wild escapade with the wife of the consul designate by Gelzer (1968) 55 n.1.

44 Africa (1978) 608.

45 Balsdon (1962) 51.

46 Betrothal of Brutus to Julia denied by Clarke (1981) 15.

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disenchanted with Caesar on these grounds or others. The informer Vettius raised allegations of Brutus’ conspiracy against Pompey soon after the marriage of Iulia, but Servilia intervened overnight directly with Caesar, and no more is heard of Brutus’ role (Cic. Att. 2.24.2-3/44,

Rome August ? 59 BC: nocturna deprecatio; Plut. Cat. Min. 24.1-2; Brut. 5).47 Cicero implies that Servilia got Caesar to ignore a senatusconsultum and to force Vettius to change his testimony in a public meeting, actively interfering in an important political event. This still shows Servilia prioritising family. Scholarly opinion favours the view that Caesar had set up Vettius primarily to discredit Curio.48 Cato spirited Brutus away to Cyprus in 58 BC.49

Brutus meanwhile avoided Caesar and served as quaestor in Cilicia in 53 BC under the conservative, Appius Claudius Pulcher, after marrying his daughter, Claudia, in the previous year.50

Property and financial dealings

Servilia not only begged immunity for Brutus’ involvement with the Pompeians at Pharsalus, but enriched herself when confiscated Pompeian estates were sold off.51 Servilia had an eye for property and took advantage of opportunities in 48 BC. Cicero claimed that Caesar

47 Wiseman (1974a) 186; Clarke (1981) 15; Tempest (2017) 36-39 – doubting whether Cicero knew the whole story.

48 McDermott (1949) 351-367; Taylor (1950) 49-50; Allen (1950) 153; Gruen (1974) 95-96.

49 For Cato’s role in the annexation of Cyprus: Oost (1955) 99; 101; Badian (1965) 110-121, for refinements on

Cato’s role; Tempest (2017) 39. Brutus made a lot of money in the East unscrupulously, returning to Rome in

56 BC, but still shocking Cicero later (Cic. Att. 5.21.10-13/114, Laodicea 13 February 50 BC; Att. 6.1.6-7,

Laodicea 20 February 50 BC): Oost (1955) 105-107; Clarke (1981) 18-19; Rawson (1986) 104; Tempest (2017)

45-49.

50 Motives: Tempest (2017) 42-44.

51 On access to transactions of this sort: Münzer (1999) 303.

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bedded Servilia’s daughter Tertia as part of the bargain property deal secured through his influence – implying that Servilia prostituted her daughter for a property discount – acting as a lena (Suet. Iul. 50.2; Macrob. Sat. 2.2.5).52 This generic abuse forms part of Timagenes’ claim that Servilian women were active participants in prostitution.53 Cicero’s upset over

Pharsalus generates his petulant response to Servilia’s unscrupulous financial windfall.

Servilia is credited with tremendous passion for Caesar; Cato reacted unfavourably, but his stepsister still greatly influenced him (Plut. Brut. 5.2-3). Caesar’s dealings with Servilia created some of the tension in the wary but generally respectful relationship between Servilia and Cicero. Cicero obviously expected his unpleasant banter to pass into history quickly.

After Caesar’s murder, she bought the house of Pontius Aquila at Naples – one of the murderers (Att. 14.21.3/375, Puteoli 11 May 44 BC).54 She did not let politics cut her out of a profitable deal.55 It was construed as a mercenary act, because of her relationship with

Caesar, and her son’s role in his murder. Brutus’ actions were not unproblematic for her at the time of the proscriptions. Atticus had to give her asylum, and provide her with funds, when her son-in-law Lepidus was busy proscribing anti-Caesarians (Nepos Att. 11.4).56

Politics and family after the murder of Caesar

52 Wiseman (1974a) 187; Bauman (1992) 75.

53 See above 163, n. 13.

54 The identification is doubted by Shackleton Bailey (1967) 241 in his commentary on this letter.

55 Münzer (1999) 303 for other examples.

56 Dionisotti (1988) 45. Atticus had earlier refused to back a scheme to chair a fund to support Caesar’s assassins led by a friend of Brutus, C. Flavius (Nepos Att. 8.1-6), but still gave Brutus funds privately. His objection was to committing funds to a scheme with palpable political dimensions. Syme suggests his role as banker encouraged him to ensure a future with whichever side prevailed: (1939) 192.

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After the death of Caesar, Servilia emerges from the shadows. Times must have been difficult for the former mistress of Caesar and mother of his assassin. On 27 May 44 BC, Cicero writes to Atticus about his support for Brutus and Cassius, and includes the content of a letter from Hirtius. Hirtius was very concerned that matters would escalate to war, and urged

Cicero to discourage the tyrannicides’ departure from Italy. Cicero, located at Tusculum, had information from Balbus that Servilia had returned from Lanuvium. She is reported as denying that Brutus and Cassius would leave Italy (Att. 15.6/386, Tusculum 2? June 44 BC); the real state of her knowledge is unclear.57 Balbus served as intermediary in communicating between Servilia, Cicero, and Brutus and Cassius.

On 8 June 44 BC, Cicero reached Antium and had direct contact with Servilia. Servilia’s attitude on this occasion can be viewed as seriously transgressive, although not so expressed by Cicero. The murder of Caesar resulted in an extraordinary consilium domesticum to determine the future of the conspirators after Caesar’s assassination. Cicero was present, but his viewpoint could not prevail over Servilia’s dominating stance. The meeting was attended by Cicero, Servilia, Brutus, Porcia, Tertulla, Cassius and others.58 The Senate had offered supervision of grain supplies as a pro-praetorian provincia – the meeting was about the response. Cicero advised Brutus and Cassius to accept control of the corn supply from Asia and Sicily to save their skins, and when they rejected this, he suggested that the need for his proposal would not have arisen if they had seized control of the state after the assassination.

Servilia cut Cicero short, and flexed her muscles, highly dissatisfied; she was concerned by

Brutus’ proposal to return to Rome. She categorised the proposed appointment to the corn-

57 Bauman (1992) 74; Borrello (2016) 166-167.

58 Hillard (1989) 167 suggests that late Republican women were normally included in family councils, but the circumstances here are clearly extraordinary. Servilia would have expected an indirect role even at family meetings from which she was excluded by her gender.

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supply as a humiliating token act orchestrated by Antony, and said that she would get the SC altered (Att. 15.11/389, Astura? c. 10 June 44 BC).59 The episode shows the depth of her political understanding, and her substantial and anxious support for Brutus and Cassius.

Indeed a few days before, Cicero writes to Atticus of Servilia’s interest in curbing Brutus’ impulsiveness (Att. 1510/388, Tusculum? 5 (?) June 44 BC). The episode reveals her influential contacts at the highest level of government, and her expectation of intervening in senatorial discussion, clearly unofficially.60

The following day (June 9 or 10) Cicero wrote to Atticus about the meeting. Cassius was planning to reject the grain commission, and Servilia was still saying that she would get it removed from the SC (Att. 15.12.1/390).61 Cicero interpreted this to mean that Brutus and

Cassius were about to disappear quietly to Asia.62 He also talks surprisingly of the high regard Octavian had for Brutus and Cassius, and his own anxiety to separate Caesar’s heir from Antony, but suspected that Octavian might be fickle and untrustworthy. In a letter to

Atticus only a fortnight later, Servilia told Cicero’s messenger to Brutus that Brutus had left for the East at 6.30 that morning (Att. 15.24/401 Tusculum 25 or 26 June 44 BC).63

Servilia in ensuing months looked after the interests of Brutus and two of her daughters, married respectively to Lepidus and Cassius. A few weeks before Mutina (21 April, 43 BC),

Cicero reveals to Cassius a little of Servilia’s attitude to the uncertain times (Fam.

12.7.1/367, end of February 43 BC Rome). Cicero had been promoting Cassius in the Senate

59 Skinner (2011) 1; Borrello (2016) 168-171.

60 Hillard (1983) 12; Borrello (2016) 173.

61 Carp notes Cicero’s acceptance of Servilia’s influence, which implies her more general involvement in politics: (1981) 189; Borrello (2016) 171-172.

62 Brutus and Cassius may already have had widespread arrangements in place in Asia: Drum (2008).

63 Perhaps Servilia had succeeded in obtaining the cancellation of the curatio frumenti: Borrello (2016) 173-174.

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and in the assembly (Phil. 11.26-28, late February 43 BC). The consul Vibius Pansa was extremely hostile to his viewpoint, but Cicero got a better hearing at the contio when he was introduced by the tribune, M. Servilius.64 Cicero outlines Servilia’s fear that Cicero would upset Pansa (invita socru tua, despite your mother-in-law’s opposition). Pansa favoured reconciliation with the Caesarian factions and reviving the Republican constitution. Cicero characterises Servilia as a timid woman (mulier timida), but there is no doubt that Cicero was mounting a controversial strategy of which she disapproved.65 Her politically astute analysis was that Cicero’s support could be a liability.

Brutus wrote to Cicero in April about Cassius’ seizure of Syria and its legions. Brutus informs Cicero that he has asked Iunia Tertia and Servilia to consult Cicero before publicising Cassius’ success (Ad Brut. 2.3.3/2, Dyrrachium 1 April 43 BC). Ten days later,

Cicero responds with congratulations about Cassius’ success, noting Pansa’s angry opposition to Cassius’ status in the East, even before recent developments. He tells Brutus that letters to his friends have already spread the news (Ad Brut. 2.4.5/4 Rome 12 April 43).

Elite women could be used strategically to disseminate sensitive news under the right circumstances.

In July, when Antony’s fortunes had recovered, Brutus writes to Cicero of his fear that

Lepidus is going to join Antony. Brutus felt duty bound to protect his nephews (officium) and appeals to Cicero to protect the children of Iunia and Lepidus for Servilia (Ad Brut. 1.13.1/20

I July 43 BC).66 Later Cicero responds that Lepidus has been declared a public enemy, precipitating the loss of the children’s patrimony, as nobody can help in the face of Lepidus’

64 Unrelated to Servilia.

65 Osgood (2014) 51.

66 Harders comments on the tradition of avuncular support within the family: (2009) 229-230.

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attack on the respublica (Ad Brut. 1.12.1-2/21 Rome July 43). He later admits the impact on the children, but suggests the resolution of the political impasse if Brutus brings his army to

Italy. Finally, he remarks that Servilia and Iunia can explain what he has done on behalf of

Iunia’s children – nothing specific is mentioned (Ad Brut. 1.15/23 Rome July 43).

Near the end of the month, Cicero in a letter to Brutus describes Servilia as a woman of great ability and energy (prudentissima et diligentissima femina)(Ad Brut. 1.18.1/24 Rome 27 July

43 BC ). Cicero was asked by Servilia to meet with a group of men and discuss his plan for

Brutus to bring his army to Italy. Servilia asked if she should get Brutus to come, deferring to

Cicero. These clearly dangerous and transgressive proposals show that things have moved on since the time of Cornelia, who refused involvement in affairs which would disrupt the state.

Cicero tells Brutus of his generally positive encouragement, making much of the prestige and reputation of Brutus – and does not reintroduce Servilia until the end, as an active correspondent rather than an actor. He also returns to the children of Iunia and Lepidus – and his assumption that Brutus will have heard from Servilia of his strong support in the Senate for Brutus and the children’s cause (Ad Brut. 1.18.6/24). These machinations show that

Servilia could deal with political matters, at least through male actors, including the movement of legions, and that she and her daughters were intimately and dangerously involved with some of the greatest events of the day.67

Conclusions

Servilia’s marriages show the distinction of her family, and led her initially into conventional roles of nurture and support for her children. As a mother, Servilia shows constant concern for all her children even as adults, especially when the husbands of her daughters were in

67 Bauman (1992) 74; Brennan (2012) 361; Borrello (2016) 180-183.

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political trouble, with an impact also on her grandchildren. Trying to provide her children with suitable support led her into transgressive roles after Caesar’s murder. Little is known of the nurturing stages, but her influence on the clearly exceptional education of Brutus, also fostered by Cato, is a reasonable inference.

The fact that Servilia was called upon by Cicero to assist in the selection of Tullia’s third husband in 51 BC shows that she attracted respect as a matrona.68 This fell within traditional roles. She also found prominent husbands for her three daughters amongst established family networks.

Servilia’s distinguished pedigree and powerful connections facilitated some of her modes of operation in Roman public life. By the age of forty she was a widow, and known to be

Caesar’s mistress. She had one male heir, Brutus, by her first husband, and three daughters by her second husband, whom she married off to Lepidus, Cassius, and Servilius Isauricus.

These children always remained central to her life, but her relationship with Caesar generated many other issues, including considerable opportunities for personal enrichment. She had easy access to the most highly placed members of the Senate, and influential individuals including Atticus and Balbus. She retained respect as a highly placed matrona, who could advise on prospective marriages.

Her political orientation is complex. Her maternal uncle Livius Drusus had been an optimate tribune just before the Social war, and her half-brother Cato was also a highly conservative supporter of the Republican constitution. Her first husband had been slain by Pompey, and family members were reluctant to support Pompey. Her relationship with Caesar began in the

60s BC, but what she ultimately thought of his politics is far from clear. Her views are unlikely to have remained static.

68 On their relationship: Treggiari (2019) 129-130. 174

Her son Brutus caused her considerable concern. Brutus’ involvement in the Vettian affair caused her embarrassment and prompted his removal from the political scene. He was taken by Cato to the East. On return in 56 BC, his career took a conservative turn through alignment with Appius Claudius Pulcher. He married his daughter Claudia, before joining

Appius in Cilicia in 53-51 BC.

When war was declared in 49 BC, Brutus unexpectedly sided with Pompey. Servilia again had a problem in 45 BC when Brutus chose to marry Cato’s daughter, Porcia, a provocative gesture in conflict with Servilia’s hopes for his future. Caesar tried conciliatory gestures, including the grant of the praetorship in 44 BC, consistent with Caesar’s strategy of reconciliation with his former foes. There are other signs of Brutus’ high status in Caesar’s circle, and Servilia’s active intervention. As an ambitious mother, she was faced with a recalcitrant son whose idealism created obstacles.

After the assassination of Caesar, she stood by her family, and her politics were driven by family concerns. She presided over a meeting at Antium of senators and others, where she displayed imperious attitudes, and impatience at the approach of Cicero, who criticised

Brutus and Cassius. She concentrated on the reversal of the demeaning and token SC concerning a grain commission that would have sidelined Brutus and Cassius. Servilia’s plans took account not simply of Brutus and Cassius, but also the rest of her brood.

Subsequently, Servilia was not receptive to Cicero’s open promotion of the cause of Brutus and Cassius after their departure from Italy in 44 BC; her view was that Cicero was too little concerned with the possibility of alienating other important political players.

The exchange of letters between Brutus and Cicero shows that Servilia was actively attempting to protect her daughter Iunia’s children after Lepidus’ decision to abandon the

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Republican cause. This probably prompts her to suggest that Brutus should return to Italy at the head of an army.

Servilia is subject to the same limitations as other Roman women; she cannot actively engage in male politics in the forum or the Senate house. Nevertheless, she is so well connected with leaders in public life that she can get them to work on her behalf, and can even achieve through them some of the things permitted only to men – such as getting the terms of an SC altered. What she can do behind the scenes is on a considerable scale, as can be seen from her pillow talk to Caesar at the time of the Vettius affair, and her use of her half-brother Cato to remove her son from Rome when his presence represents a problem. Her political connections were also fostered by her capacity to act as intermediary between individual

Senators who were not in direct contact with one another, and might not even want to be.

The keynote in Servilia’s life was her tenacious hold on her networks and her unconditional support for family. She is an outstanding aristocratic woman of wealth whose private life intersected with contemporary politics because of her status, family, and associates. We know little of her immediate reaction to Caesar’s assassination, and the involvement of Brutus, whom she continued to back. Her roles included customary support for her children, and status as an influential matrona who could be consulted about marriage prospects for her own or other people’s children. She can be contrasted with attitudes expressed in Cornelia’s letter to Gaius, where the interests of the state are prioritised; Servilia in contrast clearly asserts the priority of family.

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Chapter 7: Terentia and Tullia

Background and significance

Terentia and Tullia’s lives provide tantalising glimpses of conditions for elite women, and this discussion primarily highlights episodes which involve them in politics and public affairs.1 The women are treated together because of their status as wife and daughter of

Cicero, and the availability of substantial information both about Terentia’s political and financial roles during Cicero’s absences from the city, and the course of Tullia’s relationship with Cicero, as well as her marital and financial arrangements. Cicero’s absences were heavily implicated in controversial politics in the late Republic, and Terentia’s actions on his behalf represent a considerable challenge to traditional behaviour. Tullia’s third marriage is also of considerable interest because of the political background of her new partner and

Cicero’s absence when the final choice was made.

1. Limitations of the evidence

Sources

None of the undoubtedly numerous letters of Terentia survive, and her life and that of Tullia, is viewed through male eyes, chiefly those of Cicero and Plutarch.2 Plutarch has additional sources, particularly in relation to the marriage with Publilia, but otherwise largely relies on the Ciceronian corpus.3 Terentia appears infrequently in Cicero’s letters to Atticus when an absent Cicero required Atticus to help her over domestic or financial matters, and occasionally to comment on her health or interaction with Pomponia, the wife of Quintus.

1 Treggiari (2007) provides a full biography of both women, and includes Publilia.

2 Carp (1981) 190; Moles (1988).

3 Moles (1988) 26-30.

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Despite these significant limitations, aspects of Terentia’s life and finances are better known than those of other elite women. The content of her letters can be partially reconstructed from

Cicero’s extant replies.4 Twenty four letters from Cicero to Terentia survive, concentrated around their separations.5 Her marriage has frequently been discussed employing these letters, especially the four letters written between April and November 58 BC (Fam. 14.1-4).6

These provide an unparalleled insight into a private world in the late Republic, and reveal much about property held by Terentia and Cicero.7 Supplements can be found in the letters to

Atticus, book 3, containing twenty seven letters from 58 BC. There are also two letters to his brother Quintus. Letters were often despatched to both Atticus and Terentia simultaneously, due to the availability of couriers.8 The character of his cherished daughter Tullia hardly emerges from his letters, although Cicero’s devotion to his daughter is evident from his letters at the time of her death in 45 BC. Aspects of the arrangement of her third marriage to

Dolabella can be charted.

Unlike the letters of Pliny, editing of the Ciceronian letters appears restricted to Tiro’s preparations for their publication, although some could have been culled because of potential to embarrass.9 No major editorial deletions can be detected, but Terentia’s replies were not included. Letters by women are a rarity; Cornelia’s are an exception. Cicero reveals a little of

4 Hemelrijk (1999) 189.

5 Treggiari (2007) 54.

6 Grebe (2003); Guillaumont (2015).

7 Dixon (1986) 95.

8 Nicholson (1994) 34-42.

9 Nicholson (1994) 33-63; Peterkin (2010) 1. On Tiro’s long life and role in the preservation of Cicero’s correspondence: Treggiari (2007) 153-154. Carcopino, however, insisted on the political goals behind publication: (1951) 4-37.

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his marital relationship, and expectations of his wife at certain critical points in his life.

Tullia’s case clarifies the arrangement of elite marriages, and the situation of a daughter.10

Despite this coverage, the daily routine and attitudes of the orator’s womenfolk seldom emerge from the extant letters.

Terentia and Tullia fill in many gaps in what we know about the social life of elite Roman women. Nevertheless, no utterances of either woman have survived, and the Ciceronian correspondence and comments in Plutarch Cicero yield little about their personalities or day to day activities.11 Tullia’s close relationship with Cicero does provide a rare and relatively detailed picture of father-daughter relations in the Roman world. There are few external sources. The educational background of both women tends to be underrated.12 Although much emerges about who selected Dolabella as Tullia’s third husband, details of exact reasons for the choice fail to emerge. Cicero often talks about the monetary arrangements of

Terentia and Philotimus, but again a limitation is any check on his version of events. The cause of the divorce of Cicero and Terentia could relate to financial management or to attitudes to the defeat of Pompey, another topic on which we are ill informed.

2. Applying the tests

Traditional Roles

10 Gardner (1986) 10-11 notes that from the time of Augustus, daughters in power could appeal to a magistrate if their father refused to authorise a marriage: D. 23.2.19.

11 For some of the modern speculative comments on Terentia, both sympathetic and unsympathetic: Treggiari

(2007) 155-158.

12 Hemelrijk (1999) 189 concentrates on her letter writing; the range of responsibilities revealed by Cicero’s own letters is important.

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Terentia’s marriage and demonstrations of fides

Cicero’s marriage to Terentia took place close to 80 BC.13 Her handsome dowry of 400,000

HS may have enabled Cicero to develop his political career (Plut. Cic. 8.2).14 Terentia’s wealth ensured that she and her family had high expectations from their relationship. The senior generation and friends of the family often organised betrothals (cf. Plin. Ep. 1.14), as the alliance between Cicero’s brother Quintus and Pomponia, the sister of Cicero’s friend

Atticus shows. Cicero’s father initially controlled Terentia’s dowry, then Cicero himself, but she owned and continued to administer other substantial interests, supervised by a tutor.15

Terentia’s freedman Philotimus, who also worked for Cicero, handled day to day management, including slaves forming part of her dowry.16 The marital home may have been a family house in Carinae where Cicero and his brother had been brought up under the influence of his exemplary mother, Helvia, from whom Cicero inherited old fashioned ideas about household management (Plut. Cic. 8.3; Att. 6.1/115.2; Fam. 16.26/351.2).17 A subject of Cicero’s youthful study was Xenophon’s Oeconomicus, which promoted the ideal of

13 Treggiari (2007) 27; Guillaumont (2015) 2.

14 On her origins and parentage: Treggiari (2007) 30-31; her stepsister Fabia was a Vestal Virgin, a sign of a prestigious background: Plut. Cat. min. 19.3; Asc. 91 C. She may be related to the antiquarian, M. Terentius

Varro: Rawson (1975) 112; Carp (1981) 193; Treggiari (2007) 30.

15 Carp (1981) 194; Dixon (1986) 95-100.

16 Treggiari (1969) 263-264. This relationship led to ambiguities, and late in the marriage Philotimus seems to have preferred to keep in with Cicero: Att. 11.16.5/227, Brundisium 12 or 13 June 47 BC.

17 Treggiari (2007) 32.

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traditional gender-related sex roles.18 The marriage between Cicero and Terentia lasted until divorce in late 47 BC/early 46 BC.19 Relations between them seem stable until 58 BC; there are signs of tensions with Terentia soon after his return to Rome in 57 BC and again in 49 BC

(Att. 4.1.8/73; 4.2.7/74).20 Beyond divorce, Terentia survived her husband’s proscription in

43 BC, and lived on to the age of 103 (Plin. NH 7.158; Val. Max. 8.13.6).21

Terentia’s considerable financial freedom as an independent Roman woman in a free marriage still excluded her from conspicuous roles in public life.22 Terentia acted as an intermediary between Cicero and his clients even before his absences (Fam. 14.2.2/7.2), and this use of women as intermediaries had also enhanced the standing of other late Republican elite women.23

Terentia provides traditional wifely support when Cicero decides to leave Rome in 58 BC, indicating her fides. She gave ongoing support and lobbied the influential; this was in theory an approved strategy already utilised by Terentia while her husband was present, but could spill over into controversy. Tullia and her husband Piso were similarly engaged in seeking

18 Treggiari (2007) 33. Xenophon’s viewpoint: Pomeroy (1984) 87-90. Murnaghan explores the more radical aspects of the advice of Isomachus: (1988) 9-22.

19 Claassen (1996) 208. Noy points out that divorce had the effect of protecting Terentia’s property, when

Cicero’s own future in Rome was very uncertain after the civil war: BCMR 2008.07.06.

20 Suggested by Guillaumont (2015) 2.

21 Treggiari (2007) 149-151. According to Jerome, Terentia next married the historian Sallust, a staunch opponent of Cicero, and then Mesalla Corvinus (Against Iovinianus 1.48=316A). Sallust’s bride could have been Publilia, and it is theoretically possible that Publilia’s third husband was Corvinus: Syme (1964) 284;

(1978) 294; Rowland (1968) 134. Publilia seems later to have been married to the consul of AD 16, Vibius

Rufus (Dio 57.15.6): Syme (1981) 367.

22 Carp (1981) 191-194; Dixon (1986) 99-101.

23 Peterkin (2010) 3; Buonopane (2016) 52.

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help for Cicero, but met with a rebuff from the consul (Att. 3.19.2/64). Cicero expected

Terentia’s assistance during his absences, and some of this fell within traditional roles.24

Terentia’s importance increased after Cicero’s departure because of her capacity to communicate the political atmosphere to him accurately.

Terentia was not limited to the domestic context. Although even such matters as the issuing of invitations were hedged in by the gender divide, Hemelrijk has underlined that some interventions in the public domain by Roman women did not violate gendered roles.25

Religious festivals were construed as appropriate public events for a virtuous wife to exhibit her role as custos, and to display a fitting level of religious awe.26 Terentia undertook sacrifices to the gods dutifully.27

Terentia is both recipient and donor of benefactions. A rich banker from Puteoli, M. Cluvius, died in 45 BC, and rewarded her skills as a hostess with a bequest of a legacy of 50,000 HS

(Att. 13.46.3/338, Tusculum 12 August 45 BC).28 Her legacy and the testator’s tomb were to be funded from the share of one of the co-heirs to the estate. Her reward was a significant beneficium, reciprocating an unspecified beneficium.29 Through her influence, Terentia was also able to bestow citizenship on the ex-slave, Diocles, a Phoenician grammarian, who had

24 Other areas were comparable to Turia’s transgressive assistance to her husband during the civil war between

Pompey and Caesar, and later during the proscriptions (LT 2.2a-7a; 2.14-15): Grebe (2003) 127-128; on Turia and Terentia: Noy BCMR 2008.07.06.

25 Hemelrijk (2004) 197; 223 n. 13.

26 Pearce (1974).

27 Treggiari (2007) 36 gives examples.

28 His main fortune went to political figures including Cicero and Caesar: Treggiari (2007) 143. Terentia’s benefit is not commented on by Champlin (1991) 143.

29 Treggiari (1969) 254.

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become a slave of a Caesarian freedman in Rome. Diocles was trained by Licinius Tyrannio of Amisus, and had been gifted to Terentia.30 He took his teacher’s name, discarded the name

Diocles (Suda s.v. Tyrannio), and was subsequently known as Terentius Tyrannio.31 These cases would in previous generations have exceeded traditional roles because both bequests from persons of high status and questions of citizenship had political implications.

Children

Tullia and Marcus, Terentia’s children, were born in c. 78 BC and 65 BC respectively.32

Terentia’s role in the lives of her infant children is never discussed in detail, but adult involvement with Tullia is partially charted. When Cicero is absent in 58 BC, he pictures

Terentia taking care of the domestic front, including his daughter and his seven year old son

(QF 1.3.3/3 Thessalnica, 13 June 58 BC). Terentia’s capacity to educate her children has seldom been explored. Modern scholars have dismissed Terentia’s literary credentials, and even favourable critics note her lack of interest in poetry and philosophy;33 Seneca quipped that she had gained what knowledge she had from living with Cicero (Sen. fr. 13.61).34

Literary discussions are absent from Cicero’s extant letters to Terentia, unlike those to

Caerellia, who sought out Cicero’s writings ahead of publication (Att. 13.21a.2/327, 30 June

30 There has been some dispute over the identity of this Terentia, but she is called Cicero’s wife by the Suda:

Treggiari (1969) 125 n. 5.

31 Treggiari (2007) 143.

32 For Tullia’s uncertain birth date: Jeppesen-Wigelsworth (2013) 68 n. 9. Her betrothal to Piso Frugi was in late

67 BC: Cic Att. 1.3.3/8.

33 Rawson (1975) 25.

34 A similar claim occurs later in Jerome (Against Iovinianus 1.48=316A).

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or I July 45 BC; 13.22.3/329).35 In contrast, Terentia’s literacy and capacity to engage with intellectual life never attracts comment, but her participation in the complicated political discussions reveals her lively and engaged mind.

Tullia’s marriages to Piso Frugi and Crassipes

Tullia’s first marriages were traditional. The betrothal to Calpurnius Piso Frugi, a member of the plebeian nobility, is noted at the end of 67 BC when Tullia was still a child (Att. 1.3.3/8,

Rome).36 The marriage took place close to 63 BC, when she was about 15.37 Piso Frugi died during Cicero’s absence in 58 BC under unknown circumstances.

Soon after Cicero’s return to Rome late in 57 BC, Tullia was betrothed to Crassipes on 6

April 56 BC, after a short period of mourning. A year’s mourning was traditional (QF 2.6.1;

2; 3/10, Rome 9 April 56 BC). The details of this marriage are not well attested, although

Crassipes was initially highly favoured by Cicero (QF 2.4.2/8, Rome mid-March 56 BC).38

Tullia became free to marry again in July 51 BC, during the lifetime of Crassipes. Cicero remained on generally good terms with Crassipes, and the couple’s childlessness may be the

35 Caerellia’s correspondence with Cicero was known to Quintilian (Quint Inst. 6.3.112). 35 Caerellia also apparently attempted to reconcile Cicero with his second wife Publilia (Att. 14.19.4/372, Pompeii 8 May 44 BC;

15.1.4/377, Puteoli 17 May 44 BC). Their relationship gave rise to scurrilous comment, put into the mouth of Q.

Fufius Calenus by Dio, speaking in defence of Antony (Dio 46.18.4). Caerellia’s letters are not extant, but

Calenus’ hostile remarks are generally regarded as unfounded: Hemelrijk (1999) 205; Skinner (2011) 17.

36 Treggiari (2007) 41.

37 Treggiari (2007) 43. The marriage is closely associated with Cicero’s burgeoning political career; Cicero had not yet held the praetorship.

38 Treggiari (2007) 75-78; Jeppesen-Wigelsworth (2013) 68. For doubts over whether Tullia’s betrothal to

Furius Crassipes ever resulted in marriage: Clark (1991).

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cause of the split. The first of these traditional marriages ended with premature death, while the second was apparently affected by questions of fertility.

Tullia’s pregnancies

Tullia was pregnant on two occasions during her third marriage to Dolabella.39 Both she and her mother may have had difficulty in conceiving, and this may have ended the marriage with

Crassipes. However, after Dolabella had departed to join Caesar’s cause in the civil war,

Tullia gave birth to a boy at Cumae (Att. 10.18.1/210, Cumae 19 May 49 BC). Terentia’s oversight of this birth is likely, employing suitable staff.40 The child was two months premature, and Cicero describes it as very weak on delivery (perimbecillum). It did not survive long. Cicero quickly passed over this event, more concerned about favourable winds so that he could leave Gaeta and join Pompey (Fam.14.7.1/155).41 Her second child was born at Rome after Tullia’s divorce from Dolabella late in 46 BC. It is briefly and unceremoniously mentioned in a letter to Q. Lepta who had served under Cicero in Cilicia

(Fam. 6.18.5/218, Rome c. 1 February 45 BC). 42 Tullia did not long survive the birth, and the child, although born safely, was also short-lived. Roman demographic factors took their toll.

Discussion of politics on return from Cilicia

Cicero wrote to Terentia from Athens on 14 October 50 BC, acknowledging her letters, praising her for keeping him informed, and expresses hope that her health will allow her to meet him at Brundisium, in view of the imminence of war (Fam. 14.5.1/119, Athens 16

39 Discussed below.

40 Treggiari (2007) 101-102.

41 Treggiari (2002) 63; (2007) 111.

42 Treggiari (2002) 67

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October 50 BC).43 This letter flags their discussion of the political situation. As Treggiari points out, this must have been part of a normal routine, here specifically mentioned because of the unstable context.44 While at an earlier date, this would have been seen as either controversial, or even transgressive, the unstable politics of the late Republic, and husbands’ frequent absences abroad, generated conditions in which political analyses by wives should be classed as routine

Terentia did meet Cicero at Brundisium (Att. 16.9.1/127, 24 November 50 BC), apparently on good terms, and they returned to Pontius’ villa near Trebula to meet Dolabella and Tullia, who had recently married. Cicero reports his reserved but generally favourable impression of

Dolabella (Att. 7.3/126.12, near Trebula 9 December 50 BC). The marriage arranged in his absence had political implications, but those are not discussed by Cicero. 45 Soon afterwards, a meeting with Pompey convinced Cicero of the inevitability of war (Att. 7.8.4/131, Formiae

25/26 December 50 BC). Early in the New Year, news reached Rome that Caesar had crossed the Rubicon, and Pompey had evacuated the city (17 January). Tullia and Terentia remained in the house on the Palatine, while Cicero was based at Formiae. Terentia continued to be a reliable agent for his mail.

Financial arrangements for Tullia’s marriage to Dolabella

Tullia, as a filiafamilias, relied heavily on Cicero to finance her marriage to Dolabella, although she and her mother had organised the match. The first instalment of her dowry on 1

July 49 BC was untroublesome, but Cicero had difficulty meeting the second payment in 48

BC during the conflict with Pompey, and writes in distress to Atticus from Epirus, to ensure

43 Other friends have also kept him informed of developments.

44 Treggiari (2007) 96-98.

45 Treggiari (2007) 96-99.

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that Tullia was provided with necessaries (Att. 11.2.2/212, Epirus mid-March 48 BC).46

Cicero’s relationship with Terentia also deteriorated, and a rather curt letter from Cicero survives (Fam. 14.6/158, Pompey’s camp 15 July 48 BC), which shows that Terentia assisted in stabilising Tullia’s situation, either by supplying some of the dowry payment, or by covering her personal expenses.47 Cicero was clearly having difficulty in covering his traditional financial responsibilities because of his decision to side with Pompey in the war.

Terentia’s will, and Tullia’s marriage and welfare

Terentia chose to rewrite her will during 47 BC, perhaps to protect her assets if Cicero’s property was confiscated after the war.48 Cicero was displeased and did not trust what he heard from Philotimus (Att. 11.16.5/227, Brundisium 12 or 13 June 47 BC), but hoped that

Atticus and Camillus could deflect her. Terentia had considerable freedom over her will, and

Cicero relied on appeals to her sense of honour. Terentia was surely not planning to disadvantage her children. However, Tullia then joined her father at Brundisium, and

Plutarch claims that Terentia failed to support her journey adequately, stripped the house in

Rome, and ran up debts (Plut. Cic. 41.2). This doubtful story could reflect Terentia’s upset over Cicero’s hard-line politics, or over Tullia’s continued support of her father. Cicero now sends Terentia a letter sharing dismay concerning Tullia’s marriage (Fam. 14.11/166,

Brundisium 14 June 47 BC), a recurrent theme in letters to Atticus (Att. 11.17/228,

46 In this letter he complains about the accounting, a vague and obscure reference to a deduction from the dowry.

Possible explanations: Dixon (1986) 103-105; Treggiari (2007) 114-115. Further interchanges aimed to protect

Tullia’s interests; Cicero left decisions over further dowry payments with Atticus. The second dowry payment was eventually made, and Tullia’s marriage continued.

47 These seem not to have been payable out of dowry, and had hitherto been covered by Cicero: Dixon (1986)

104-105.

48 Treggiari (2007) 122-123.

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Brundisium 12 or 13 June 47 BC). He decides to send Tullia back to Rome, but she insists on staying (Att. 11.17a.1/229, Brundisium 14 June 47 BC; Fam. 14.15/167, Brundisium 19 June

47 BC). By July, he laments paying the second instalment of the dowry in 48 BC (Att.

11.25.3/231, Brundisium 5 July 47 BC). He asks how to respond if Dolabella demands the overdue third payment (Att. 11.23.3/232, Brundisium 9 July 47 BC). Cicero airs concerns about the resemblance of Dolabella’s political programme to Clodian policies, thought sufficient reason to end the marriage. Tullia’s view of the situation does not come up. Her financial plight is however relevant to Cicero. Next day, he worries about Dolabella’s potential reaction, and prevaricates (Fam. 14.13/169, Brundisium 10 July 47 BC). Atticus deflects the notice of divorce, but Cicero believes Tullia’s honour will be compromised by continuing a marriage to such an unsuitable partner. Even if Tullia does have a greater say than is documented, the letters show that male negotiation dominated the timing. Cicero insists that he is only objecting to Dolabella on political grounds, and not trying to evade traditional paternal obligations.

Controversial Roles

Terentia’s domestic role and her lobbying during his absence in 58 BC

When Cicero departed in March 58 BC, he was concerned about the potential impact of the

Clodian lex de capite civis Romani.49 Cicero’s absence expanded the role of Terentia and

Tullia, opening up controversial extra-domestic possibilities for Terentia, potentially transgressive. Her defence of their common property was upsetting for Cicero, a male preserve and a matter related to his honour, but necessary. Cicero’s eventual status as an

49 For his reluctance to depart: Claassen (1992) 24-27. Seen as a voluntary pre-emptive move: Bellemore 2008

100-101.

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enemy of the state made the process of lobbying complicated, but Terentia acted as an advocate for his return, and dealt with financial affairs, with help from Atticus.50 She dealt with most matters in Rome.

Cicero’s political support had fallen apart following the execution of the Catilinarian conspirators, inhibiting his contribution to political life, and his correspondence ceases between September 59 BC and March 58 BC when Atticus was in Rome. After that, Cicero was ensnared by Clodian tribunician legislation concerning those who executed citizens without trial. Cicero and others went into mourning.51 His family followed suit. He was advised by the powerful, including Hortensius, to depart. He later rationalised this as his free choice (Sest. 49; Dom. 96; 98).52 Both Cicero and his son-in-law Piso Frugi approached

Pompey at his Alban villa, but Pompey was ‘not at home’. Cicero contemplated suicide, but thought of family (Att. 3.3/47, March 58 BC). He chose departure for Thessalonica. Once there, he began to doubt the choice (Att. 3.15/60.7, Thessalonica 17 Aug. 58 BC).53

His family suffered extreme consequences.54 Later legal sources claim that exile was construed as terminating citizenship and breaking patria potestas, thus releasing children from the agnatic bond (Gaius Inst. 1.128). Nevertheless, Cicero claimed not to have given up his Roman status, nor to have become a citizen of Thessalonica.55 The second Clodian bill declared him hostis, confiscated his property and banished him from Italy. No one was to

50 Grebe (2003) 127; (2011) 433.

51 Tatum (1999) 154.

52 Treggiari (2007) 57.

53 Treggiari (2007) 61-62.

54 Comparable with Ovid’s situation after banishment to Tomi: Millar (1993) 1-17; Grebe (2011).

55 Thus supporting Bellemore’s contention that he was not initially exiled: (2008) 110-111.

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shelter him, and his property was destroyed (Att. 3.4/49, Vibo ? 3 April 58 BC). The situation was undoubtedly very precarious.

The attack on Cicero’s Palatine house and seizure of the land had an impact on Terentia and

Tullia, as Clodius dedicated the confiscated site to libertas (Leg. 2.42). This must have been a time of active lobbying by Terentia.56 Terentia took refuge with the Vestals during the assault, seeking divine protection. Tullia is presumed to be living with Piso Frugi; Cicero suffered from unwarranted fears in regard to Piso’s loyalty (Fam. 14.2/7, Thessalonica 5

October 58 BC).57

Repeated passages in his letters harp on Cicero’s yearning for Terentia, and his anxiety over her health.58 The earliest of the four letters to family is from Brundisium (Fam. 14.4/6, 28

April 58 BC). He emphasises the need for cohesion when other support including that from the gods is lacking. She, like him, has been deserted by the gods, a traditional female sphere of influence, contrasted with his male world of politics. The letter craves Terentia’s continued support of his political interests.59 He has already been at Brundisium for close to a fortnight, and is indebted to a local identity, L. Laenius Flaccus, who harboured him in defiance of a ban (cf. Cic. Sest. 131; Planc. 97).60 He plans to depart for the East, and explores the idea

56 For the upset: Hales (2000) 44-55.

57 Dixon (1986) 98-99.

58 Grebe (2003) 130-131.

59 Buonopane (2016) 55.

60 Cicero hopes in due course to reciprocate his hospitality.

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that Terentia should join him, or alternatively lobby on his behalf. He seems not to expect her to come, but emphasises his reliance on her to consolidate the family in Rome.61

Another concern relates to their property and its protection. As Dixon has shown, Cicero, in reply to Terentia’s recent letter concerning manumitting slaves, carefully differentiates his property from hers; the slaves appear to derive from Terentia’s dowry.62 He controls everything in the dowry during the marriage. Nevertheless, he says, although he has freed his slaves, Terentia is free to do as she chooses with hers; ambiguity arises because the husband owned the dos, but it was theoretically returnable. Cicero could only emancipate his own slaves. Cicero apparently hoped to avoid troubles incurred by Licinia, the wife of Gaius

Gracchus, who lost her dowry when Gaius’ assets were sold after his death (Plut. CG 17.4).63

Terentia’s dowry was under threat, and Cicero was concerned about conserving additional slaves within Terentia’s independent non-dowry property, in case his property was confiscated (Cic. Att. 5.8.2/101). 64

This saga shows that wealthy women had a certain level of acknowledged power, derived from their dowries and other assets brought into a marriage, but, if the husband’s assets were seized, or if he suffered serious financial upsets, this could compromise their resources. For

Cicero, it is a matter of honour to protect Terentia’s interests and social position.

61 Grebe emphasises the self-absorbed Cicero’s reliance on Terentia’s provision of solace and support: (2011)

436-437.

62 Dixon (1986) 95-97; Treggiari (2007) 64.

63 In that case, Gaius was held liable for damage done to Licinia’s dowry in the riots which he had incited, and was required to return the dowry to her (D. 24.3.66pr. [Javolenus]).Radin (1913) 354-356. Perhaps nonetheless,

Licinia never received compensation.

64 Dixon (1986) 96-98.

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The second letter from Thessalonica, full of self-pity, apologises for recent brief letters. None survive from the intervening months (Fam. 14.2/7, 5 October 58 BC).65 He seeks psychological support from Terentia.66 He responded positively to Terentia’s reassurance that

Piso Frugi had remained loyal.67 He notes Terentia’s great expectations from the newly elected tribunes, a sign of her anxious attention to the political situation, and direct contact with leading individuals. He approves, but advocates additional support from Pompey and

Crassus. He refines rather than defines her political stance, but expects his voice to be heard.

This letter clarifies Terentia’s grasp of the political leanings and inclinations of key players.

An incident at the Tabula Valeria is recorded (Fam. 14.2/7).68 Terentia had been seized from the temple of Vesta, her refuge with Fabia during demolition of the Palatine house; possibly at the instigation of Clodius, she was dragged to the tribunes’ headquarters in the Basilica

Porcia, where she was forced to disclose her financial situation, no doubt because of the hostis-declaration (Cic. Dom. 59; Sest. 145).69 Cicero had separate knowledge of Terentia’s plight from P. Valerius. Retrospectively, Cicero blamed Clodia for Terentia’s cruel treatment in his absence (Cic. Cael. 50).70 Terentia’s fortune survived scrutiny, but Cicero felt guilty about her humiliation.

65 Guillaumont (2015) 1.

66 Grebe (2003) 134.

67 Guillaumont (2015) 5.

68 A wall painting on a wall of the Curia Hostilia (Plin. NH 35.22). On the location: Coarelli in LTUR s.v.

Tabula Valeria.

69 Carp (1981) 193; Treggiari (2007) 65-66; Boatwright (2011) 114; Brennan (2012) 356. On comparable humiliation for Turia at the tribunal of Lepidus, see LT 2.14-15.

70 Perhaps Terentia visited Clodia as part of the normal protocol of approaching female relatives of the powerful: Treggiari (2007) 66.

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Cicero was dismayed about her expenditures on the Palatine house. Cicero hoped to reclaim the site if he returned, but thought her outlays inappropriate, and shaming. Cicero underlines the fragility of her health, and the need for her to conserve her resources in case the couple were to win through. Cicero also corresponds with Atticus about his beloved Palatine property (Att. 3.15.6/60; 3.20.2/65, Thessalonica 17 August and 5 October 58 BC), anxious not to compromise his sense of honour regarding financial matters.

The third letter, despatched from Dyrrachium (Fam. 14.1/8, Thessalonica, mid November 58

BC, and Dyrrachium, 25 November 58 BC), deals with hopes of return to Italy.71 Reports about Terentia’s health have reached him; he blames himself for his family’s plight, but anticipates support from Pompey and Caesar, and the tribunes. Letters written in October to

Atticus mention his lobbyists, who were securing support for his return (Att. 3.20/65.1;

3.22/67.3, Thessalonica 5 October and Dyrrachium 25 November 58 BC). At every juncture,

Cicero canvasses Terentia’s viewpoint to supplement news available from Atticus. In any political situation, Cicero habitually accessed a range of significant opinions, including

Terentia’s. As he contemplates return, he alludes to Terentia’s sale of personal property

(described as a vicus) with some melancholy, fearing the impact on his son’s future inheritance.72 He worries that Terentia’s action could impoverish both parents unnecessarily.

Cicero construed help from male friends as appropriate, while help from Terentia was not.73

Terentia’s support for her husband was still unreserved after a year of extremely adverse circumstances.

71 Guillaumont (2015) 2.

72 Buonopane (2016) 53. Cicero is not thinking of agnatic succession, but imagines Terentia stepping in if his assets are confiscated: Grebe (2011) 442.

73 Dixon (1986) 100-101.

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The fourth letter displays his pessimism over ever being restored, and he blames his own handling of the situation (Att. 14.3/9, Dyrrachium, 29 November 58 BC). Cicero informs

Terentia that he has sent via Dexippus letters of thanks for assistance to contacts named by her. This underlines her careful attitude of consultation about her interventions. He praises his son-in-law, Piso Frugi – and signals expectations from the newly appointed tribunes. He expects Aristocritus and Dexippus to relay what is happening, as well as Quintus. He asks

Terentia to continue to work on his behalf, and declines her offer to join him, a sign of her improved health and mobility. If everything works out, he will come to Rome. He states outright that she is the backbone of the effort to secure his return. She is an active lobbyist of major figures, either directly or indirectly, and this letter clarifies that he expected Terentia to relay political developments, and that he valued her political analysis. As Treggiari points out, Cicero does not diminish her contribution by mentioning his communications with

Atticus, although Terentia too was in constant touch with him.74 Tullia also lobbied on her father’s behalf in concert with her husband Piso Frugi, a fraught business, since they were poorly received by the consul, L. Calpurnius Piso (Att. 3.19.2/64; Red. Sen. 17; Sest. 54; 145;

Mil. 87). Cicero was impressed with Piso (Att. 3.22.1/67), but Piso died before Cicero’s return, in unknown circumstances (Cic. Sest. 68). Cicero works hard to ensure his case is promoted on as many fronts as possible. Cicero’s failure to thank Terentia publicly for help demonstrates that his political ostracism rendered the whole process controversial.

Return to Italy

In early 57 BC, a tribunician bill for Cicero’s recall was met with a riot, and the life of

Quintus came under threat (Dio 39.7.2; Att. 3.27/72, February 57 BC). Atticus joined Cicero in Greece, while Terentia and family continued to work for Cicero’s recall. Widespread

74 Treggiari (2007) 69.

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lobbying was involved.75 On 4 August 57 BC the bill authorising Cicero’s recall passed in the centuriate assembly. This he learnt on 11 August 57 BC. Cicero arrived at Brundisium on 5

August 57 BC, the birthday of Tullia (Red. Sen. 24; 28; Pis. 34; Att. 4.1.4/73, about 10

September 57). Tullia met him, still in mourning for Piso (Sest. 131).76 Terentia, perhaps ill again, did not venture to Brundisium.77

Cicero declares unwillingness to explain his financial mess, and critics suspect covert reference to mismanagement by Terentia and her freedman, Philotimus (Att. 4.1.8/73, 10

September 57 BC).78 These veiled comments suggest Terentia’s considerable power over

Cicero’s financial arrangements during absences; whether this related to the management of her dowry, or included other financial transactions, cannot be clarified. Other factors contributed to his financial crisis in 57 BC, including the pillage of his Palatine house, and the damage to his villas at Formiae and Tusculum, both brought on by his political failures.79

However, Terentia’s handling of his finances certainly gives rise to controversy.

The third marriage of Tullia to Dolabella

While Cicero was in Cilicia, Terentia and Tullia concentrated on a new husband for Tullia.80

The arrangements for betrothal were conducted in a traditional manner, and are well attested

75 Treggiari (2007) 70.

76 Mitchell (1991) 154-156.

77 In contrast in 50 BC, when he returns from Cilicia, Terentia does come to Brundisium.

78 Similar comments recur in January 48 BC, when Cicero complains about the absence of Philotimus, hints at failure on the part of Terentia, and turns to Atticus for help, claiming no other option (Att. 11.1.1-2/211):

Nicholson (1994) 51-52. Not long after, the couple divorced.

79 Treggiari (2007) 73.

80 Collins (1952) 164-168; 186 investigates Cicero’s possible involvement in the selection of Dolabella. For the negotiations: Treggiari (1991) 127-134.

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but the outcome was controversial. By 51 BC Tullia had already been widowed once and divorced once, and was now about twenty seven. Roman betrothals reviewed family, wealth, appearance, and character.81 Several candidates were canvassed, and Servilia and another matrona Pontidia were consulted as intermediaries. Access to Servilia was facilitated through

Servilia’s friendship with Atticus and acquaintance with Cicero; she suggested Ser. Sulpicius

Rufus, a patrician, the son of a consul in 51 BC (Att. 5.4.1/97, Beneventum, 12 May 51 BC;

Nep. Att. 11.4), initially favoured by Cicero and Atticus (Att. 5.21.14/114.14, Laodicea 13

February 50 BC), while Pontidia’s unknown candidate perhaps originated from the elite at

Arpinum, at first dismissed outright, but later reconsidered (Att. 6.1.10/115.10, Laodicea 20

February 50 BC).82 These experienced matronae provided guidance, although their advice was disregarded, unless, as has been suggested, Servilia eventually backed Dolabella.83

Servilia and Pontidia will have been thoroughly acquainted with both Terentia and Tullia, through religious and other social events. A further suitor, Ti. Claudius Nero, met Cicero early in 50 BC to discuss marriage to Tullia, but their distance from Rome proved an obstacle.84 Terentia and Tullia singled out Dolabella, a controversial candidate, still married, but reputedly about to divorce.85 Dolabella may have been significantly younger than

Tullia.86

81 Treggiari (1984) 424-438.

82 For the link with Arpinum: Collins (1952) 166; Treggiari (1991) 128; (2007) 87-88.

83 Jeppesen-Wigelsworth (2013) 74.

84 Jeppesen-Wigelsworth (2013) 70-71.

85 For the candidates: Treggiari (2007) 83-88; Jeppesen-Wigelsworth (2013) 68-78.

86 Syme (1980) 432, although Appian’s claim that he was as young as nineteen in 50 BC is generally rejected

(Appian BC 2.129): Treggiari (2007) 93, following Syme (1980) 430-435. Appian’s evidence suggests he was

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In late February 50 BC Cicero supported Pontidia’s candidate, but by August he wrote to

Terentia and Tullia supporting Ti. Claudius Nero (Att. 6.6/121.1, Side c. 3 August 50 BC); neither of Cicero’s candidates was considered, and Tullia was engaged to Dolabella towards the end of May.87

Terentia could assess the worth and appropriate political background of potential suitors, and the choice of Dolabella was a different view from that of Cicero. Her considerable freedom of manoeuvre derived in part from the key role of her freedman Philotimus as manager of the

Palatine house. Cicero occasionally doubted Philotimus’ actions, and asked Atticus to intervene (Att. 5.8.3/101, Brundisium 2 June 51 BC).88 Atticus in theory safeguarded Cicero’s interests for the duration of Cicero’s Cilician command, but the maturity of Tullia ensured that she and her mother actively selected her partner. Tullia and Terentia organised the marriage - a necessity, because slow communication with Cicero left him effectively isolated from developments.89

Although the union of Tullia with Dolabella was based partially on Dolabella’s charm (Att.

6.6.121, Side c. 3 August 50 BC), a theme repeated by Caesar (Att. 9.16/185.3, Formiae 26

March 49 BC), the choice had political ramifications. 90 On return from Cilicia in late 50 BC

under 25 when suffect consul in 44 BC: Broughton, MRR II.317; Ermete (2003) 226. Dolabella had already been married to Fabia, also senior to him: Quint. Inst. 6.3.73.

87 Treggiari (2007) 90. Nero seems never to have contacted Terentia and Tullia, and was to marry Livia some years later. Nero might have thought such a contact improper: Collins (1952) 167.

88 Treggiari (1969) 263-264; Claassen (1996) 218-220, on the role of Philotimus.

89 Treggiari (2007) 91-92.

90 Jeppesen-Wigelsworth has recently argued that Dolabella’s personal characteristics have been exaggerated; the two women, well informed politically, made an appropriate calculated decision. Since Pompey and Caesar were facing off against each other, political concerns took priority over issues of compatibility and physical

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and early 49 BC, Cicero tried to establish a workable political position with both Caesar and

Pompey. His women protected their own welfare in a dangerous scene. Tullia’s marriage to

Dolabella is dated to 1 July 50 BC since the first dowry instalment was paid on 1 July 49 BC, before Cicero had even returned to Italy.

Cicero later excused the choice of Dolabella to Ap. Claudius Pulcher, his predecessor in

Cilicia, claiming he had authorised the women to decide in his absence (Fam. 3.12.2/75, to

Ap. Claudius Pulcher, Side 3 or 4 August 50 BC). Cicero had recently been congratulated by

Caelius on the engagement, and he sent Caelius a reply with his letter to Appius Claudius

(Fam. 2.15.2/96, Side 3 or 4 Aug. 50 BC). Caelius admitted some of Dolabella’s faults (Fam.

8.13.1/94, Rome early June 50 BC). Cicero, in a frank note to Atticus, confirms that he had no advance knowledge of the engagement. He acknowledges that Terentia and Tullia are impressed by Dolabella (Att. 6.6.1/121 Side c. 3 August 50 BC). The arrangement embarrassed Cicero because, a few months earlier, Caelius had warned Cicero of Dolabella’s projected role as Appius Claudius’ prosecutor for his conduct in Cilicia (Fam. 8.6.2; 5/88,

Rome February 50 BC). The same letter brought Cicero news that Dolabella’s wife, Fabia, had left him, so it is theoretically possible that either Caelius or Cicero had an undisclosed part in securing the alliance.91 Tullia’s third marriage confirms that late republican women

attraction. The involvement of Caelius Rufus as friend of Dolabella and intermediary provides evidence of this.

Caelius, Curio, and Dolabella are identified as younger players gravitating to the camp of Caesar as the situation tightened: (2013) 67-75.

91 Fabia appears related to Terentia’s half-sister of the same name. Years later, Cicero was to mount a vitriolic attack on Dolabella’s character in the eleventh Philippic, full of rhetorical exaggeration, but by then Tullia was dead, and other political concerns were paramount (Phil. 11.8-10, late February 43 BC). For Dolabella’s favourable reception by Caesar, and his depraved character: Syme (1980) 433.

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had greater flexibility in the absence of the paterfamilias on official duties, especially in the case of remarriages.

The behaviour of Terentia and Tullia after Caesar crossed the Rubicon

Cicero never accuses Terentia and Tullia of inappropriate or transgressive behaviour in supporting Dolabella, perhaps because of other divisions in his family, but their actions cannot have pleased him. During January 49 BC, Cicero twice advised the women not to await Caesar’s arrival but to leave Rome because Dolabella’s support might not protect them

(Fam.14.18/144, Formiae 22 January 49 BC; 14.14/145, Minturnae 23 January 49 BC). His claim that he did not want to force their decision suggests that Terentia and Tullia were already firmly decided; Cicero bids them to get Philotimus to barricade the Palatine house, and to compare their behaviour with that of other elite women. They should decide whether it was honourable to remain in Rome (Fam. 14.18/144). Honour and his definition of it dominated Cicero’s existence.92 By 2 February, the women had moved to Formiae (Att.

7.18/142.1, Formiae 3 February 49 BC), accepting his advice. After trying unsuccessfully to join Pompey, Cicero returned to Formiae, distrusting both Caesar and Pompey. He provided a focus for Senatorial visitors in trying times, and they will also have interacted with Terentia and Tullia.93 During Cicero’s vacillation, Terentia, Tullia, and his son and nephew, expressed their disapproval of siding with Pompey (Cic. Att. 9.6.4/172, Formiae 11 March 49 BC).

Terentia and Tullia could not safely return to Rome until Pompey left Brundisium on 17

March. Caesar and Dolabella visited Cicero at Formiae on 28 March attempting to influence him through the relationship between Dolabella and Tullia. Cicero refused to give Caesar active support at Rome unless he could speak against war (Att. 9.18.1/187, Formiae 28 March

92 Pitcher (2008) on Cicero’s aristocratic value system.

93 Treggiari (2007) 106.

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49 BC). Tullia and Terentia soon returned to Rome. There is a clear division here. Terentia and Tullia gained the protection of the Caesarian, Dolabella, while Cicero had decided to leave Italy since Caesar was in charge. Cicero took comfort in Atticus’ presence at Rome to protect Tullia’s interests. Tullia asked Cicero to await the outcome in Spain before committing himself, and Cicero talks of her anxiety for him to behave honourably. He soon threw in his lot with Pompey (Att. 10.8.1-1/199, Cumae 10 May 49 BC).

Cicero was actively scheming, keeping mobile, away from Rome. On 7 May he met up with

Terentia and Tullia at Cumae (Att. 10.13.1/205). At this juncture, Q. Hortensius Hortalus, son of Cicero’s rival in the courts, a young man not highly favoured by Cicero (Att. 6.3.9/117,

Tarsus May/June 50 BC), and almost disinherited by his father (Val. Max. 5.9.1), visited the villa at Cumae. Currently committed to Caesar, he was received by Terentia in Cicero’s absence (Att. 10.16.5/208, Cumae 14 May 49 BC). Cicero thought Hortalus better mannered than Antony – he refrained from bringing his mistress with him.94 Hortensius clearly thought it important to be courteous to Cicero and his wife.95 He may also have been influenced by the controversial alignment of Terentia and Tullia with Dolabella and Caesar.

Controversy over family politics

Pompey’s defeat at Pharsalus followed on 9 August 48 BC, but no surviving interchanges with Terentia help us understand its reception by the couple. Cicero had meanwhile quarrelled with Quintus over conciliation with Caesar. The conflict had highlighted divisions

94 Treggiari (2007) 110

95 After the assassination of Caesar, Hortensius joined Brutus. In 44 BC he was proconsul of Macedonia, and was one of a number of prominent individuals who opted for the tyrannicides: Drum (2008) 85. In 49 BC, however, Cicero clearly had no inkling of this future.

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within the family. Terentia and Tullia were drawn to the Caesarian side through Dolabella; relationships were almost inevitably compromised by these polarising events.

Terentia’s meeting with Volumnia Cytheris after the civil war

After the civil war and return to Italy, Cicero expected his property to be confiscated.

Terentia approached Volumnia Cytheris, Antony’s mistress, to avert this (Fam. 14.16/163, 4

Jan. 47 BC Brundisium).96 Direct access to Antony by a matrona was clearly a problem.

Volumnia, a mime actress and courtesan, known by her stage name Cytheris, was celebrated by the erotic poet and future prefect of Egypt, Cornelius Gallus, under the name of Lycoris.97

Terentia and Cicero were compelled to employ this demeaning intermediary, because

Volumnia’s patron, Volumnius Eutrapelus, was so closely attached to Antony.98 Cicero decries Terentia’s treatment.99 Cicero and Terentia were humiliated in their hour of need.

Cicero is embarrassed, and feels that their honour has been compromised. In this case, the dislocation of status was merely controversial since the meeting was a necessity, as Cicero makes clear in his letter to Terentia.

In a letter from Brundisium, Cicero discussed his interchange with Antony about his return to

Italy and Rome. Antony negotiated directly with Caesar, and publicised a specific exemption

96 Treggiari (2007) 120-121.

97 Traina (2001) 83-85; 97-99; Keith (2011) 26; 42; Strong (2016) 71-76.

98 Traina (2001) 93-94; Richlin (2014a) 43-44.

99 The affair was humiliating, especially because Cicero previously expressed disapproval of Volumnia’s prominence in a litter in Antony’s entourage, like a wife (Att. 10.10.5/201, 3 May 49 BC; 10.16.5/208, 14 May,

49 BC, Cumae). He still dwelt on this years later, claiming that Antony’s mother, Julia, was relegated to a position at the rear, as though overseeing a daughter-in-law (Phil. 2.58, September/October 44 BC).For

Volumnia’s trajectory: Treggiari (1971) 196-197; on the use of litters: McGinn (1998b) 245-249.

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for Cicero, not knowing that Cicero had returned at the instigation of his son-in-law,

Dolabella. Cicero was not proud of this outcome, possibly facilitated by Terentia. She must have met with Dolabella and relevant Caesarians.100 There are no details – only what Cicero communicated to Atticus (Att. 11.7/218, Brundisium 17 Dec. 48 BC). This case again reveals ambiguities created by lobbying.

Controversy over the marriage to Dolabella during 47/46 BC

A letter in March reveals information about Cicero’s finances. He wrote to Atticus and

Terentia to ensure that his debts were covered, and to obtain money for his daily expenses from Terentia (Att. 11.1/222, Brundisium 8 March 47 BC). This was an unprecedented situation, and he may have asked Terentia to provide her own funds now that his own credit was questioned.

Tensions with Dolabella may have contributed to Cicero’s problems with Terentia. Dolabella was now tribune and creating unrest in the city through a programme to remit rents and abolish debts. Cicero was dismayed and professed shame to Atticus (Att. 11.14.2/225,

Brundisium April 47 BC; 11.15.3/226, Brundisium 14 May 47 BC). Antony intervened to restore order in Rome, and Plutarch interpreted this as a response to Dolabella’s affair with

Antony’s wife Antonia (Plut. Ant. 9.1-2).101 Cicero’s despondency, expressed to Atticus, may concern the helpless plight of Tullia, but also dispute with Terentia over the handling of

Dolabella.102

100 Treggiari (2007) 121.

101 Cicero later accused Antony of inventing the business of Dolabella’s adultery with Antonia (Phil. 2.99).

102 Treggiari (2007) 122, implying that Cicero’s unspoken dismay was over Tullia’s mental anguish.

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Cicero remained engaged in literary pursuits at Tusculum, while Tullia may have joined her mother in Rome. Dolabella was absent with Caesar in Africa, but returned to visit Cicero in

June. The issue of terminating the marriage to Tullia was in the air, but Dolabella placated

Cicero, and Dolabella became reconciled with Tullia - either through her initiative or through

Dolabella’s rapprochement with Cicero. At any rate, she became pregnant during 46 BC with the child born in January 45 BC. The divorce from Dolabella took place in the interim, perhaps towards November 46 BC. Tullia died within a month of the birth of her child, and the child did not long survive its mother.103

Transgressive Roles

Terentia is seldom criticised for transgressive actions because most material on her life comes from Cicero before his relationship with her broke down. Two episodes stand out, both recorded by contaminated later sources. Plutarch reports Cicero’s comment that Terentia was more inclined to share in his political worries than domestic concerns (Plut. Cic. 20.3).104

Plutarch’s context is her influence on Cicero’s treatment of the Catilinarian conspirators.105

Terentia’s role in the Catlinarian conspiracy in 63 BC

During Cicero’s consulship in 63 BC, on the night of December 3/4 63 BC, Cicero was absent from home after the arrest of the main suspects in the Catilinarian conspiracy, and was considering his options – a fateful moment. Meanwhile, Terentia, as consular wife, was

103 On Cicero’s grief: Treggiari (1998) 14-23, dealing with affection and duty; Baltussen (2009) 355-369 at 358-

359; Wilcox (2016) 272-282 – on the rhetoric of mourning.

104 Plutarch adds that he also consulted his brother Quintus and the philosopher P. Nigidius Figulus when making significant political decisions. Cf. Cic. Pro Sulla 42 for the support of Nigidius over the Catilinarian conspiracy.

105 Brennan (2012) 355.

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hosting the Bona Dea ceremony, an event attended by women, including the Vestal Virgins amongst whom was her half-sister Fabia. Later sources report an ominous portent during the ceremony, a supernaturally rekindled flame, interpreted by the Vestals. They advised Terentia to intervene and motivate her husband to act against the conspirators and she complied, certainly a transgressive intervention (Plut. Cic. 20; Dio 37.35). As Brennan points out, the dubious story has affinities with Cicero’s own account of a similar omen during the previous year’s ceremony ([Sall.] Inv. Tull. 3).106 Sources closer to the events mention that an elite woman, Fulvia, first alerted Terentia to the conspiracy, and thereby prompted Cicero’s response (Diod. 40.5; Sall. Cat. 23; 26; 28; Plut. Cic. 16).107

These passages dramatize a dominating role for Terentia, a common rhetorical trope.108

Traces survive of truly hostile material about Terentia’s role in domestic trials relating to the conspiracy ([Sall.] Inv. Tull. 3).109 In 62 BC, Terentia again participated in the Bona Dea ceremony, and, according to Plutarch, jealous of Clodia, believing her to have designs on her husband, persuaded Cicero to testify against Clodius at his trial for sacrilege in 61 BC (Plut.

Cic. 29.3-4).110 Clodius escaped conviction allegedly through bribery, and was elected tribune after his transfer to plebeian status; this in turn led to the exile of Cicero.

106 Interpreted as an omen that he would win his election as consul: Treggiari (2007) 44.

107 Brennan (2012) 354-355.

108 Hillard (1989) 174; Treggiari (2007) 45.

109 Similar to claims that Fulvia and Antony were conducting public business at home: Cic. Phil. 5.11.

110 Critics point out that Cicero does not seem to be acting alone in this instance: Att. 1.13.3; 1.14.1; Mitchell

(1991) 83-86; Grebe (2003) 129. Plutarch even names an intermediary, Thyillus of Tarentum: Wiseman (1974a)

138-146; Treggiari (1991) 136. The story is rejected by Carp (1981) 354 n. 32; Treggiari (2007) 49-50, but considered credible by Brennan (2012) 355-356. Moles thought Terentia’s main problem might be the role of

Clodius in the prosecution of her half-sister Fabia in 73 BC: (1988) 175, but this has been disposed of by Tatum

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Sources highlight these episodes to flag perceived unseemly female intervention in public business.111 Cicero is represented as weak enough to fall under female control.112 The issue is how later sources writing about Catilinarian conspiracy viewed the operation of political life in 63 BC. In these accounts, Roman Republican women did not allow every episode in political life to be controlled by their menfolk. Terentia herself, participating in a suitably sanctioned religious ceremony, appears taking advice from the Vestals, who included her half-sister Fabia.113 The implication is that the Vestals customarily exhibited partiality. As

Hallett notes, Vestals are often depicted in male roles, and served as public and religious representatives of high-status male blood relatives.114 Terentia is said to obtain controversial support at a moment of crisis. In the case of Cicero’s evidence at Clodius’ trial, Terentia’s jealousy of Clodia is supposed to have led to a disastrous outcome for Cicero.

Many precedents confirm the use of female networks at times of political sensitivity.115

Terentia was accustomed to this type of political lobbying, and although at the time Cicero and contemporaries approved her activities she was later criticised for transgressive interventions in 63 BC.

Conclusions

(1999) 44. Plutarch’s potential sources in the life of Cicero: Peter (1865) 129-135; Moles (1988) 26-34. A life of

Cicero by Tiro may have been used by Plutarch and was perhaps quite hostile to Terentia in the aftermath of the divorce: Barrow (1967) 154-155; Carp (1981) 190-191.

111 Hillard (1989) 174.

112 Carp (1981) 196.

113 Hillard discusses (and rejects) the theory that the portent might have been hatched by Fabia and Terentia:

Hillard (1989) 181 n. 63.

114 Hallett (1989) 68, exploring themes from Beard (1980).

115 Brennan (2012) 355.

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Terentia shares some of the traditional roles managed by earlier elite women such as by

Cornelia. She still has a strong focus on looking after the interests of her children and demonstrating her fides by acting in support of her husband until 47-46 BC. Terentia’s status as a legally independent woman, with substantial assets apart from her dowry, differentiated her from Tullia, a daughter supportive of her father, but still subject to patria potestas to the end of her short life, even after three marriages. 116 Cicero, from the earliest extant letters until her death, considered her a central figure in his life.117 Tullia’s exceptional loyalty to

Cicero may have been problematic for Terentia as her marriage to Cicero crumbled, but it was also financially important to Tullia as she needed to ensure that dowry issues for the marriage to Dolabella were settled.

Terentia was so involved in Cicero’s social life that, even after the divorce in 47/46 BC, she obtained a substantial legacy from a prominent banker who also left much of his money to

Caesar and Cicero. She was not dissimilar to Livia under the Augustan principate in her ability to dispense favours to those of lesser status, although Livia greatly expanded this capacity.

An apocryphal story perhaps reflects Terentia’s perceived powerful influence. It claims that

Terentia encouraged her husband to execute the Catilinarian conspirators, and influenced

Cicero to be a witness in the trial of Clodius after the Bona Dea incident in 62 BC, to secure the conviction of Clodius.

Terentia’s role as a lobbyist is much enhanced by Cicero’s absences overseas, during 58 BC at Thessalonica, and later after the Civil war. This was appropriate behaviour for a loyal wife

116 Hemelrijk (1999) 102.

117 For unlikely claims that Tullia’s relationship with Cicero was incestuous (Dio 46.18.6 [attack of Calenus]), and their origin: Treggiari (2007) 159.

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of her status, and examples of comparable female roles can be found already in the second century BC. Particularly in 58 BC, her role became complicated when Cicero was banished, and her high status lobbying moved her into an uncharted role. Her keen interest in politics, and the course of Cicero’s career ensured that she contacted the right people, despite the limits imposed on her direct participation in the life of the forum. When Cicero’s house was seized in 58 BC, Terentia was forced to seek asylum in the house of the Vestals with her stepsister Fabia. Cicero encourages her to persist in lobbying Pompey and Crassus, and those close to them. She also had documented involvement in religious ceremonies, notably the

Bona Dea festival, which gave her contact, like Aebutia in 186 BC, with other well connected and influential women.

Terentia’s role in helping to organise Tullia’s marriage to Dolabella was substantial, but probably not very unusual. Moreover, Cicero had left Atticus with oversight of arrangements.

The episode shows that when a father was absent on duty overseas, mother and daughter had a high degree of independence. Terentia’s and Tullia’s role is not far outside traditional roles, but it represents an inversion of the normal model – that the choice of the paterfamilias should be ratified by his female relatives. Their choice was influenced by the complicated political situation, and Cicero’s absence forced his compliance with their decision. Terentia’s separate life from Cicero is a blank canvass, but apparently of considerable duration

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Chapter 8: Fulvia

Background, significance, and sources

Fulvia’s distinguished male ancestors included her paternal grandfather, the Gracchan supporter, M. Fulvius Flaccus, cos. 125 BC. Her father, M. Fulvius Bambalio, came from

Tusculum, and seems related to earlier consulars.1 Fulvia’s maternal great-grandfather, C.

Sempronius Tuditanus, had been consul in 129 BC and wrote about Roman public law (Libri

Magistratuum).2 Her maternal grandfather, Sempronius Tuditanus, son of the consul of 129

BC, was notorious for extravagant and mad behaviour (Cic. Phil. 2.90; 3.16; Val. Max.

7.8.1). The maternal line further contributed to her wealth and independence.

Fulvia’s birth date of c.73 BC is based on the earliest possible date for her marriage to

Clodius, before his tribunate in 58 BC, perhaps in 61 BC (minimum legal age for marriage was 12).3 A birth date between 80-75 BC is also plausible.4

1 Virlouvet (2001) 66; Rohr Vio (2013) 17. Main accounts: Balsdon (1962); Babcock (1965); Delia (1991);

Fischer (1999); Virlouvet (2001); Myers (2003); Rohr Vio (2013).

2 Cicero reveals the maternal inheritance in his vicious attacks on Antony in the Philippics (Cic. Phil. 3.15-17).

Fulvia’s female antecedents also appear in Sallust. Sempronia, her mother, was sister to the Sempronia supposedly embroiled in the Catilinarian conspiracy, famously credited with a scandalous life (Sall. Cat. 25).

For this invective: Hillard (1989) 173; (1992) 47-48, doubting her role in Catiline’s conspiracy; cf. McGinn

(1998a) 164 on interpreting the masculine behaviour of Sempronia as implicitly adulterous; Dixon (2001) 147-

148 for parallels to Clodia in Pro Caelio. Sallust aimed to demean Catiline as subordinate to an influential woman who had appropriated male roles: Hillard (1989) 173-174; cf. Balsdon (1962) 48-49; Hallett (1984) 10.

For the consul of 129 BC: Bauman (1992) 83.

3 Tatum suggests marriage in 62 BC: (1999) 60-61; Rohr Vio, after the Bona Dea scandal, in 61 BC: (2013) 22-

23. Age: Hopkins (1965); Shaw (1987).

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Fulvia’s marriages reflected her own rich and prominent background.5 Clodius and Antony were extremely visible politically, but Curio died in the civil war before any of his potential could be realised. On marriage to Clodius, Fulvia joined the turbulent world of popularis politics at Rome, not inappropriate to her background. The circle and viewpoint of Clodius seem to have shaped her marriages to Curio and Antony.6 Clodius had a bad reputation both in politics and private life; Lucullus testified that Clodius had engaged in incest with his divorced wife Clodia, and rumours of incest with his two other sisters circulated (Plut. Cic.

29); moreover he was charged with incestum but acquitted in the Bona Dea trial in 61 BC.7

During her father’s lifetime Fulvia would not have controlled her considerable estate, but her peculium might have been substantial (Cic. Phil. 2.88; 3.16).8 Welch has suggested that the key to her marriages was political rather than financial, and, when the influential Clodius was murdered in 52 BC, she transferred herself and the Clodian clientela to Curio, whose own politics had hitherto been vacillating; her Clodian support perhaps also influenced the final marriage to Antony in 47 BC.9

4 Babcock places her birth rather early, in 84 BC. She would be 22 in 62 BC when she married Clodius, 33 when she married Curio in 51 BC, and 37-8 when she married Antony in 47-6 BC, and mid-40s when she died in 40

BC: (1965) 1-32 at 7 n. 14. Fischer suggests her birth in 75 BC, pointing out that on Babcock’s argument she would be 42 when she gives birth to her fifth child in 42 BC: (1999) 7-8. Fulvia may have had an older stepbrother, L. Pinarius Natta, if a controversial argument is accepted: Taylor (1942).

5 Huzar (1985/86) 99-101 on the marriage to Antony.

6 Her financial resources: Rawson notes that Clodius seems to be in the money soon after the marriage: Babcock

(1965) 3f; Rawson (1977) 353; Tatum (1999) 61.

7 Brennan (2012) 356-357.

8 Delia (1991) 197-217; Rohr Vio (2013) 25-26.

9 Welch (1995) 189; 192.

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Fulvia’s association with controversial political figures, especially Antony, left her open to abusive political propaganda, deriving from Cicero and later Octavian. These sources portrayed her as a virago, a woman with both political and military ambitions. The stereotype has been questioned, but Fulvia undoubtedly attracted criticism as a result of her marriage.

When Cicero attacked Antony in the Philippics in late 44 BC and 43 BC, he had an established antipathy to Fulvia through her marriage to Clodius, and her participation in the trial of Milo, after Clodius’ death in 52 BC. This trial represented a signal failure in Cicero’s career, and Fulvia remained in his sights after Caesar’s death, as Cicero penned his vitriol against Antony.10 Cicero takes a hostile view of Fulvia’s influence; in the Philippics he claims her as the author of Antony’s decisions, and mercilessly attacks her greed and savagery (Cic. Phil. 2.11; 2.48; 2.113; 5.11; 6.4).11 Cicero’s audience was expected to find this plausible, and the repeated claims must have had their impact.

Fulvia’s political interventions are repeatedly construed as an assault on traditional gender roles. Her place in Antony’s life is depicted as one of the threats to Cicero’s beloved

Republic.12 Octavian continued and developed the attacks at the time of the Perusine war and thereafter.

Modern scholars have questioned the tradition about Fulvia’s political activity because

Antony seems to be the real target of the rhetorically charged attacks on her character; he is characterised as a man dominated by a powerful woman, effectively emasculated by his

10 On his rhetorical strategies: Myers (2003); Cicero’s return to Rome in 44 BC: Wooten (1983) 14.

11 Amongst other charges, Cicero pictures her as ‘like a black widow spider’, fatal to her sexual partners: Myers

[2003] 345.

12 A generalised attack on women in Antony’s life in order to blacken him: Myers (2003) 339-340, underplaying the political activities of Fulvia herself.

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wife.13 The demeaning slurs claimed that he was emotionally enslaved and manipulated by a woman.14 Suspicions of serious distortion have recently been toned down by Brennan, who acknowledges the reality of some of the behaviour assessed as transgressive.15

When Fulvia died in 40 BC, Antony and Octavian reached terms after the Perusine war, and

Fulvia was blamed for the tensions. Her ambitions were portrayed as the poison compromising rational dialogue between Octavian and Antony. The demonising of Fulvia enabled the triumvir’s brother, Lucius Antonius, to be allowed to slip away as a victim of

Fulvia and retire to a governorship in Spain, where he soon died.16

Plutarch contributes to Fulvia’s image, and his assessment resembles that of other hostile sources, which relayed the triumviral picture after her death: a woman with no time for traditional domestic concerns, who wanted to control a dominant male. Cleopatra had Fulvia to thank for training Antony to accept subjugation by a woman. (Plut. Ant. 10.3). Plutarch draws an overbearing Fulvia, and underscores Antony’s susceptibility to domineering women

(cf. Cic. Phil. 6.4).17 She lacks the basic qualifications for a respectable Roman matrona: a deferential temperament, devotion to woolworking, and performing the role of custos of the household.18 Plutarch identifies particular vulnerabilities, reviewing both partners critically.

His attack concentrates on Antony’s weak personality and Fulvia’s infringement of customary male prerogatives, owing to her efforts at participating in political activities. The

13 Delia (1991) 197-217, criticised by Welch (1995).

14 Myers (2003) 344.

15 Brennan (2012) 356-358. Aspects of the characterisation resemble that of Agrippina the Elder: Keegan (2017)

147-153.

16 Wotring (2017) explores these features of Fulvia’s characterisation.

17 Babcock (1965) 24.

18 Rohr Vio (2013) 21.

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corrosive rhetorical claims against Fulvia encapsulated perceived intrusions beyond the boundaries of acceptable female involvement.

According to the hostile Cicero, by 58 BC Fulvia was involved with Mark Antony, years before their marriage (Cic. Phil. 2.48).19 When defending Milo after the murder of Clodius in

52 BC, Cicero attacked the moral standards of Fulvia and Clodius by claiming that Clodius’ entourage habitually included prostitutes and other sexual favourites, despite the presence of his wife (Cic. Pro Milone 21.55).20 Her prominence in his political entourage is Cicero’s target.

Limitations of the evidence

The propaganda and hostility of Cicero and Octavian present formidable obstacles to understanding Fulvia’s life. Fulvia is credited with having particular and independent political beliefs. Appian emphasised her monarchic sympathies (App. BC 5.54 [putting words into the mouth of Lucius Antonius]). Octavian’s propaganda emphasised this because of her supportive role as Antony’s consort; if she was a monarchist, so was her husband, who showed his true colours by his later association with Cleopatra. Antony’s subversive actions contrast with those of Lucius Antonius who is credited with opposition to his brother’s involvement in the triumvirate.21 Octavian claimed that the triumvirate was temporary and that he had no monarchical ambitions (cf. Suet. Aug. 28; Dio 53.4.3-4). In Appian, Octavian confronts Lucius over Antony’s acts against Octavian, notably a rumoured secret alliance

19 The alleged affair could be a piece of Ciceronian malice: Babcock (1965) 6; Huzar (1985/86) 99; Virlouvet

(2001) 68.

20 Cicero’s hostile material against Fulvia aims to convince the jury. However, Milo was not acquitted. On exoleti: Williams (1999) 83-86.

21 Analysed by Roddaz (1988) 318-323; cf. Ferriès (2007) 178 on his pietas.

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with Sextus Pompey. Appian puts a speech into the mouth of Lucius Antonius, which admits to Fulvia’s monarchist tendencies, but claims that he joined her to acquire Antony’s soldiers to attack the triumvirate. He hoped to get his brother to agree to disband the triumvirate, and he would support whichever of the triumvirs ended the tyranny (App. BC 5.54).

Appian reports strong polarisation between the Republican views of Lucius, and Fulvia’s approval of monarchy (App. BC 5.54).22 This polarisation appears to be a product of propaganda generated after Perusia, and perhaps reaching final form in Augustus’

Autobiography of about 25 BC.23 Fulvia ‘the monarchist’ may nevertheless have shared her husband’s views; if so, after Perusia Antony chose to demonise her reputation to enable reconciliation with Octavian. His dislocation in the East and the difficulties of communication with his brother, as well as with Fulvia, had created friction; stories also emerge about discord between Lucius and Fulvia.

Roddaz argues that Octavian misrepresents Lucius Antonius as hungry for power, and that

Appian gives a more credible account of Lucius’ viewpoint (BC 5.42-45). In taking up arms against Octavian, Lucius proclaims opposition to the triumvirate, and believes that his brother will concede the same view. His actions neither support the interests of the veterans, nor of the evicted landholders. In contrast, Octavian’s approach aimed to set the veterans against

Lucius.24

22 Lucius and Antony both claimed to surpass Octavian in pietas: Welch (2012) 219; 220.

23 For the date see the fragments of the Autobiography/Memoirs collected by Smith (2009) 1-13. On problems with Appian’s presentation: Osgood (2006a) 161; Lucius Antonius must at least initially have supported his brother as triumvir.

24 Roddaz (1988) 321; for the acta diurna populi Romani as Appian’s source: Schwartz (1898) 221ff; 232 n. 4.

Contra, Sordi (1985) 301-316.

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Appian’s Lucius is a determined Republican, while Fulvia is a determined monarchist. This can be interpreted as a useful polarisation of political positions, aimed at justifying the outcome of Perusia, the demonising of Fulvia, and the pardoning and sidelining of Lucius.

Sources attribute Fulvia’s quarrels with Lucius to her personality and divergent political views.

Alleged independent power of Fulvia

A further limitation is the propaganda strand which maintains that during the process of settling the veterans, Octavian claimed that Fulvia and Lucius had independent goals, working against Antony (Dio 48.5.5; 48.6.5), and jockeying for control of land allotment

(48.6.1).25 Octavian thus emphasised that Fulvia was independently powerful, and motivated by different factors. Against this backdrop, disillusionment with Octavian increased amongst the dispossessed (48.6.2).26 Lucius and Fulvia exploited the dispossessed, but did not attempt to right wrongs. Antony’s procurator Manius never appears in Dio, but in Appian, he appears as an agent provocateur, put to death later because he inflamed Fulvia through rumours about

Antony and Cleopatra (App. BC 5.19; 66). Appian thus attributes to Fulvia stereotypical womanly weakness. Appian also has Lucius and Fulvia independently informing Antony of their actions (App. BC 5.21). Appian implies that Antony never tried to divert Fulvia and

Lucius from their course, and Fulvia’s death provided a means to defuse the political impasse. Antony could claim ignorance of events; nevertheless, his channels of

25 Gowing (1992) 80. Dio also reinforces their hypocrisy, claiming that Lucius took on the cognomen pietas to advertise his loyalty to his brother (Dio 48.5.4), but Welch assigns it as a reference to pietas towards Caesar, advertised in the East by Antony to counteract claims promoted by Octavian: Welch (2012) 220; cf. Ferriès

(2007) 178.

26 Octavian was taking funds from temples to cover payments to veterans (App. BC 5.13) – later claimed to be funds needed for the war against Sextus Pompey (App. BC 5.22).

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communication appear entirely adequate. Dio follows the picture of conflict between Lucius and Fulvia that Octavian and Antony (especially Octavian) would have wanted disseminated after the death of Fulvia, and the removal of Lucius Antonius from the political scene.

The claim that Fulvia eventually sided with Lucius, and started a war against Octavian to draw Antony away from Cleopatra ignores why Lucius Antonius became embroiled in the campaign, and recent writers are also sceptical on chronological grounds. If Martial’s account of Octavian’s bawdy verses is credible, at the time of Perusia, Fulvia was concerned about

Antony’s relationship with Glaphyra rather than Cleopatra (Martial Ep. 11.20; App. BC

5.12).27 Antony does not meet Cleopatra at Tarsus until summer 41 BC (Plut. Ant.26.1; App.

BC 5.8-11).28 Fulvia was by then apparently already at war on Antony’s behalf in Italy (Plut.

Ant. 28.1). 29 Roman views on women in power have tainted accounts of both Fulvia and

Glaphyra.30 If Fulvia provoked the war, alone or in conjunction with Lucius, her decision must be on strategic grounds; these are discernible. Although Antony ultimately disowned the policy, Octavian’s increasing power, and the presence of sufficient Antonian troops to take the field against him are clear motives for war. The picture of Fulvia directing military policy in response to sexual jealousy represents typical polemic.

Fulvia the virago

27 Hallett (1977) 151-171; Welch (2012) 221.

28 Roller (2010) 76-79.

29 Plut. Ant. 26-28: Fischer (1999) 41.

30 Pelling notes that Antony’s twins by Cleopatra were born in 40 BC, but that Plutarch exaggerates the intensity of the relationship with Cleopatra: Plutarch Ant. 30.3. After Antony left Cleopatra in spring 40 BC he was not to see her for almost 4 years: Pelling (1988) 199. On the hostile image of Glaphyra: Chacón (2012) 11-22.

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Several writers, including Martial, promote Fulvia’s desire for a sexually dominant role.

Notoriously, Velleius Paterculus, writing in AD 30, allows her no other female characteristics apart from a woman’s body (Vell. 2.47). Plutarch notes her disdain for domesticity, her preference for male roles and dominating her politically powerful husbands (Plut. Ant. 10).31

The Antonine Appian depicts her as an aggressive dealer in property, who treated female complainants at the time of proscriptions in a cavalier and unsympathetic manner (App. BC

4.29; 4.32).32 The Severan Dio, too, emphasises her military aspirations at Praeneste: she appeared before soldiers wearing a sword, issued the watchword, and addressed them publicly (adlocutio) (Dio 48.10.3-4).33

Other problems of interpretative bias

The distorted interpretations of Fulvia by Appian and Dio are also problematic.34 Dio is critical of Octavian’s handling of the Perusine war, but very vague about the other players. A bad reputation preceded Octavian’s return to Italy (Dio 48.3.1). Dio’s picture of Lucius

Antonius and Fulvia is hardly more positive, with its emphasis on Fulvia’s overall control

(Dio 48.4.1). Appian highlights the misery of the Italian peninsula because of triumviral extortions, rather than the conduct of individuals. The hungry hordes converging on Rome, famine, and the lawless armies, are major themes (BC 5.12; 14; 18). Appian thus emphasises armies out of control, and places the blame on the leaders (BC 5.17), a theme recurring

31 Hallett notes that the Romans might accept female attributes replicating positive attributes of male kin: Hallett

(1989) 67-68.

32 Osgood (2006a) 160 on the influence of Augustus’ Autobiography.

33 Sources subjected to illuminating study by Hallett (2015) 247; Rohr Vio (2015) 74.

34 For a succinct account of the approach of Appian and Dio: Gowing (1992a) 273-294.

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elsewhere in his Civil Wars.35 Appian portrays the triumviral colonies as the death-knell of the Republic, because the colonists would do the triumvirs’ bidding (BC 5.12). Controversy arises over whether Appian himself made this view central or derived it from his source, an issue hard to settle definitively.36 Fulvia, however, is consistently given an exaggerated role on the military stage, with an emphasis on her usurping power and dominating the weak consul Lucius Antonius.

Applying the tests

Traditional Roles

Marriages and demonstrations of fides

Fulvia’s marital history began with Clodius in about 61 BC, and the marriage lasted until his murder in 52 BC. Her second marriage to Curio was in 51 BC, but he died in 49 BC, fighting for Caesar in Africa during the civil war. 37 In 47 or 46 BC, Fulvia married Antony, whom she predeceased in 40 BC. 38 Antony had divorced Antonia, on the grounds of adultery with

Dolabella. Plutarch claims that Antony abandoned a liaison with the actress Volumnia

Cytheris (Plut. Ant. 9-10), and settled down to have two legitimate male heirs by Fulvia.39

Her presence alongside Clodius when travelling is criticised because of her intrusion into the public domain, but also demonstrates her loyalty to Clodius during his lifetime (Cic. Pro

Milone 21.55). Her enduring support after his death and the extraordinary funeral encouraged

35 Gowing (1992) 78.

36 Pelling (2002) 215-217.

37 Fischer (1999) 19-24.

38 Huzar (1985/86) 99-101; Welch (1995) 182.

39 Virlouvet (2001) 71.

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by her actions also appear, from one point of view, as a fine demonstration of fides. Her supportive role appears to be the pattern with her other marriages.

Children

Fulvia produced children by all three husbands, a majority male. Her son by Clodius, P.

Claudius Pulcher, was born between 61-59 BC.40 Some years later she had a son by Curio, born in c. 50 BC, but killed after Actium as a partisan of his stepfather, Antony (Dio

51.2.5).41 Antony’s eldest male heir by Fulvia was M. Antonius Antyllus, born in c. 46/45

BC; he donned the toga in 30 BC (Dio 51.6.1). Following the Tarentum pact in 37 BC,

Octavian selected Antyllus for betrothal to Julia (Dio 48.54.4; 51.15.5). Antony entrusted all his children to Octavia, under the protection of Octavian, except Antyllus, who accompanied

Antony to Armenia in 34 BC, and was later at court in Alexandria (Plut. Ant. 28.7).42

Antyllus was betrayed by his tutor, Theodorus, and executed in 30 BC (Plut. Ant. 81.1; Suet.

Aug. 17.5; Dio 51.15.5-6). The second son, Iullus Antonius, born in 43 BC, was brought up by Octavia, and married in 21 BC to Marcella, the niece of Augustus, and former wife of

Agrippa. When the sex scandal with Julia in 2 BC entrapped Iullus, he was executed or committed suicide (Vell.2.100.4). Iullus had enjoyed a radically different path from Antyllus; he had become praetor in 13 BC, consul in 10 BC, and even proconsul of Asia in 7 BC.43

Although Fulvia was criticised by the sources for using Antony’s children after Philippi to establish her role as his proxy, and to prevent Octavian from founding colonies in Italy before

40 He held the praetorship: CIL 6.1282=ILS 882=EDCS 17800188. He needed to be 32 to be eligible, thus dated after Actium. The record, on an Egyptian vase, may indicate a taste for fine art: Rawson (1973) 238.

41 RE s.v. Scribonius no. 7 [Münzer).

42 Pelling (1988) 196.

43 Hallett (2006b) 155-157; Harders (2009) 230-234.

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Antony’s return from the East (App. BC 5.14),44 her handling of the offspring demonstrates her commitment to her husband. Sources may also be unfair to dismiss her role as custos

(Plut. Ant. 10).

Fulvia’s role in the education of her children and in organising the marriage of her daughter

Claudia to Octavian is never discussed in extant sources, but probably resembled that of traditional aristocratic matrons. Claudia’s marriage was a political decision agreed to by her triumviral husband or Claudia’s tutor, but later Octavian deliberately used the divorce to register his contempt for Fulvia (Suet. Aug. 62.1; Dio 48.5.3).

Controversial Roles

The murder of Clodius

Fulvia’s role in handling the Clodiani and the political potential of the circumstances after her husband’s murder is controversial, and may be exaggerated by hostile sources. On 18 January

52 BC, Clodius was assassinated at an inn on the Via Appia near Bovillae by Milo and his henchmen (Asc. 31C).45 Fulvia was not present (Cicero Pro Milone 10.28). A passing Roman senator, Sextus Teidius, arranged the transport of the corpse to the Palatine house, recently purchased from M. Aemilius Scaurus.46 The body reached Rome by evening, and the grief stricken Fulvia opened the house to others, and is said to have inflamed the Clodian supporters by displaying the victim’s wounds amidst her lamentations (Asc. 32C).47 Fulvia is

44 Ferriès (2007) 182.

45 For gangs and their misdeeds: Lintott (1968) 74-88. On the conflict between Milo and Clodius: Sumi (1997)

82.

46 Located at the foot of the Palatine on the clivus Victoriae: Papi in in LTUR s.v. Domus: P. Clodius Pulcher.

47 Babcock (1965) 21. Sumi points out Antony’s similar tactic with the crowd at Caesar’s funeral: (1997) 84;

App. BC 2.146. For grief as an instigator of revenge: Erker (2004) 274-275.

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represented as appreciating the political potential of the funeral.48 The following day, after encamping overnight in the forum, the Clodiani, incited by the tribunes, dragged the corpse from the atrium of Clodius’ house to the Rostra to display publicly Milo’s crime, and transferred the body to the Curia Hostilia.49 The mob created a pyre, fuelled by the wooden seats in the building. In the resulting inferno, the Senate house and the adjacent Basilica

Porcia were destroyed. Afterwards, Milo’s home on the Palatine was assaulted (Asc. 32-

33C).50 The mob continued their rampage, and returned to the forum to hold a funeral feast, while remains of the Senate house smouldered (Cicero Pro Milone 33.90; Asc. 33C; Dio

40.49.2-3).51 Fulvia’s actions were thought to be instrumental in starting the riot.52 Cicero claimed concern that Clodius had been deprived of the traditional Roman aristocrat’s funeral, and that his half burnt cadaver had been butchered during the night by dogs (Cic. Pro Milone

13.33).53 At the murder trial of Milo in April 52 BC, Fulvia and her mother gave their evidence last and are said to have made a considerable impression through their sobbing

(Asc. 36C).54 The conduct of the funeral could be seen as a reflection of Fulvia’s sinister political power.

Fulvia and the restoration of Deiotarus’ kingdom

48 Rohr Vio (2016) 6-7.

49 Rohr Vio (2013) 36-37.

50 Sumi (1997) 85. For its location on the Cermalus: Papi in LTUR s.v. Domus: T. Annius Milo.

51 On the identity of the mob: Sumi (1997) 87-92.

52 Naturally, she could not know in detail how it would play out, but she must have expected the Clodiani to act.

Sumi emphasises that, once activated, the mob was outside the control of the close adherents of Clodius and

Fulvia: (1997) 92.

53 Rohr Vio emphasises it as a funus seditiosum, like the funeral of Caesar (Plut. Brut. 20): (2013) 34-36.

54 Bauman (1992) 84; Rohr Vio emphasises the absence of verbal testimony: (2013) 39.

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In the ‘Second Philippic’, Cicero indirectly attacks Fulvia’s involvement in the restoration of

Deiotarus to his kingdom (Phil. 2.95).55 Cicero has already alluded to Fulvia’s involvement in the rehabilitation of Deiotarus in a letter dated 22 April 44 BC, denouncing Antony for bypassing Cicero’s role as the king’s patronus (Att.14.12.1/366). Deiotarus was a reliable

Roman ally during the Mithradatic war, and supported Pompey at Pharsalus.56 Relations with

Caesar were comparatively cordial, but tense after the war (Dio 41.63); in 45 BC Deiotarus was charged with attempting to murder Caesar after Zela (47 BC), accused by a Galatian rival, his grandson, Castor II.57 No judgment against Deiotarus had been reached when

Caesar was assassinated. Cicero, while in Cilicia in 51 BC, had befriended Deiotarus, and was disappointed not to be instrumental in his reinstatement. He values Deiotarus, but claims that Antony was bribed by Deiotarus, and that he concluded the negotiations inappropriately at home in the women’s quarters (Cic. Phil 2.95: in gynaecio): Fulvia was too close to the transactions.58 In the ‘Fifth Philippic’, delivered on 1 January 43 BC, Cicero claims direct intervention by the unnamed Fulvia, marketing assets and favours subject to senatorial prerogative, including the return of exiles (Cic. Phil. 5.11). This seems possible, given his private comments to Atticus, expressed in a muted tone.

55 Cicero sent a version of the speech to Atticus on 25 October 44 BC (Cic, Att. 15.13.1/416), responding to

Antony’s speech of 19 September.

56 For his career under Pompey and Caesar: Sullivan (1990) 163-169.

57 Cicero’s defence speech is extant (Pro rege Deiotaro).

58 For similar allegations raised against Cicero and Terentia: Treggiari (2007) 48. Cf. Riggsby (1997) 49 on female intrusion into the public sphere.

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In the eyes of Cicero, Fulvia usurped a diplomatic opportunity which he himself deserved.59

Most of her behaviour was in all likelihood controversial rather than transgressive, except in the eyes of Cicero. He accuses both Antony and Fulvia of taking bribes, perhaps exaggerating the misdeeds of Antony. Cicero’s childish insistence on his slighted prestige tends to confirm this interpretation.60 None of this excludes bribes, believable, given Deiotarus’ diplomatic history.61 Cicero depicts Antony as weak and dominated by his wife.62 This may reflect the orator’s intense anger at what he sees as an important principle of political life: women should not be present when political questions are on the table.63 Cicero hoped his senatorial audience would be shocked at conspicuous female involvement in a political process, but would also accept that Antony was sufficiently influenced by Fulvia for his assertion to be feasible.

Fulvia, and Antony’s status as hostis before Mutina

A more controversial act, but traditional in the sense that she was supporting her husband, was for Fulvia and Antony’s mother Julia to lobby senators at the time of the declaration of

Antony as hostis before Mutina (21 April, 43 BC). With her young son Antyllus and Julia,

Fulvia spent a night lobbying senators at their homes. The following day, wearing mourning

59 Deiotarus’ status was still in limbo at the time of Caesar’s assassination. Later he joined Brutus and Cassius, but after Philippi his utility was resuscitated in the interests of the triumvirs.

60 Deiotarus as king of Galatia was an important Roman ally, well worth conciliating: Syme (1939) 107-108.

61 Sullivan (1990) 168.

62 Ige (2003) 54-55, emphasising Cic. Phil. 1.33.

63 For comparable rhetoric regarding Terentia’s role in encouraging the condemnation of the Catilinarian conspirators on mercenary grounds: [Sall]. Inv. 3, with Treggiari (2007) 48.

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clothes, they buttonholed senators (App. BC 3.51).64 These informal political processes outside the Senate were effective. When Cicero attacked Antony in the Senate, the motion to declare him a public enemy was defeated (App. BC 3.52-54; 61). Senators agreed that a man could not be declared hostis without a right to a defence, but, as the situation escalated,

Antony was declared hostis, culminating in the confrontation at Mutina (App. BC 3.63-64;

Dio 46.30-31).

Nepos discloses that Atticus, although a close friend of Cicero, resisted attempts to strip

Fulvia’s assets after Antony’s defeat at Mutina and flight from Italy. Nepos details Atticus’ financial support for her, and his absolute neutrality in the face of the complicated loyalties of civil war (Nepos Atticus 9. 2).65 Antony took the honourable course of repaying in due course the debts incurred (Nepos Att. 10.4). Fulvia benefitted from Atticus’ support partly as a result of her connection to Antony, partly in her own right. Her property and her pedigree formed her political capital, which in turn gave her political support.

Pro-Octavian sources later decry Fulvia’s cavalier behaviour when approached by elite female lobbyists against the triumvirs headed by Hortensia. Fulvia is represented as unsympathetic to their complaints about the triumviral demands (App. BC 4.32-34).

However, her most controversial actions occur after Philippi, when Antony assigns Fulvia and Lucius Antonius the oversight of his interests in Italy. Hostile sources construe much of

Fulvia’s activity as truly transgressive conduct, outside the range of supportive behaviour, but at the time of the Perusine campaign Octavian and Antony held totally polarised approaches, and Fulvia’s actual role may have been severely distorted.

64 Virlouvet (2001) 74. Ti. Gracchus is said to have put on mourning when lobbying with his mother and children (Dio 24.83.8).

65 Dionisotti (1988) 45; Lindsay (1998) 330.

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Transgressive Roles

The appropriation of Cicero’s house as a shrine to libertas

Clodius’ tribunate in 58 BC influenced Cicero’s antagonism towards Fulvia, as Clodius allegedly planned his revenge for Cicero’s role in the Bona Dea trial. Clodius immediately promulgated the Lex Clodia de capite civis Romani, which targeted Cicero’s execution of the

Catilinarian conspirators. Cicero left Rome as his support collapsed. Rioters ransacked his

Palatine house. A further Clodian bill made his voluntary departure permanent, and in 57 BC

Cicero’s house was dedicated to libertas.66 Cicero depicts Fulvia and her mother Sempronia as instigators of Clodius’ dedication of Cicero’s house (De Domo 139; cf. 62). Cicero blames an ally of Clodius for consecrating his house, a pontifex who (in Cicero’s view) could not meet the ancestral standard. This was L. Pinarius Natta, thought to be Sempronia’s son and

Fulvia’s stepbrother.67 As an instrument of Clodius, Cicero presents Natta as a contemptible instrument of Clodius, incapable of action without help from female relations. The episode attests that some Roman women developed a reputation for playing politics through assisting male relatives, and Cicero angrily highlights behaviour which he considers senators would have seen as transgressive.

Assaults on Fulvia’s sexual reputation

Cicero’s attack on Fulvia’s sexual reputation in his defence of Milo, by implicating her in

Clodius’ taste for the demi-monde further damaged their relationship (Cic. Pro Milone

66 Tatum (1999) 151-156.

67 Taylor (1942) 396-397; Babcock (1965) 6-8; Tatum (1999) 60; Rohr Vio (2013) 19. In 121 BC, the house of

Fulvia’s grandfather, M. Fulvius Flaccus, cos. 125 BC, was confiscated for collusion with Gaius Gracchus; he was put to death, and the site was razed (Cic. De Domo 102). Fulvia appears to take revenge against Cicero’s political stance in sympathy with her grandfather’s fate.

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21.55). Fulvia’s support for Clodius by often travelling with him, not itself unusual, laid her open to criticism because of the disreputable individuals in his entourage. Valerius Maximus later attacks Clodius, like Antony, as subject to Fulvia’s control, and emphasises that their union produced a son sapped by vice (Val. Max. 3.5.3). Cicero’s attack is prompted by her close association with political processes, including direct contact with key figures in the

Clodian clientela.68

Fulvia at Brundisium in 44 BC

Cicero highlights Fulvia’s presence at Brundisium after Caesar’s murder. Her presence on this occasion and others demonstrates her unfettered mobility, typical of late republican women. Antony went to Brundisium to meet Caesarian troops from Macedonia, while

Octavian, anticipating conflict with Antony, sent agents to bribe them. Octavian also gathered

Caesar’s veterans from elsewhere in Italy under the banner of avenging Caesar’s murder.

Antony’s reception at Brundisium started well, but his offer of money to the soldiers was inadequate, and he attempted to enforce their submission by executing centurions (App. BC

3.31; 43-44; Dio 45.13.2).69 Cicero offers unflattering details about Fulvia on three occasions the ‘Philippics’, repeated by Dio, but not Appian. Antony is portrayed as violating conventions of hospitality by executing centurions in his host’s house, while Fulvia’s face was spattered with the blood of these men, thus demonstrating to the senate her cruel and rapacious nature (Cic. Phil. 3.4; 5.22; 13.18).70 Dio relates that Antony’s cruelty caused

68 Rohr Vio (2013) 33-34; 40.

69 Syme (1939) 125; Rohr Vio (2015) 63.

70 Virlouvet (2001) 73. Ige suggests deliberate distortion to underline Antony’s dependence on others (especially his wife) for his decision making, underlining his lack of virtus: (2003) 55.

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desertions to Octavian as Antony set out for Gaul very late in 44 BC (Dio 45.13.3-5).71

Fulvia, through support for her husband, is represented as a bloodthirsty helper in a ruthless attempt to win over Caesar’s troops. Here Fulvia is still depicted in a domestic context, but the distinction between public and private has become blurred, and Cicero’s emphasis is squarely on her transgressive behaviour, whether in fact contemporaries other than Cicero agreed with this verdict. 72

Fulvia and the proscriptions

Sources, mostly late and with an uncertain link to the events of 43 BC, underline the cruelty of Antony and Fulvia during the proscriptions. Fulvia is repeatedly critised for harsh and vengeful treatment of Cicero’s corpse after his death (7 December 43 BC). She and Antony are accused of greed and taking cash payments in place of lives. Dio, apparently absorbing earlier propaganda, contrasts the other two triumvirs, Octavian and Lepidus (Dio 47.8.1-5).

Dio has Fulvia spitting on Cicero’s head, pulling out the tongue to stick pins in it, meantime reviling Cicero. Appian adds details (which he registers as stemming from personal research at Gaeta), claiming that Cicero was hunted down, and his hand and head were severed, emphasising details of Antony’s hatred and bloodlust (App. BC 4.19-20).73 Appian assigns

Fulvia no role in Cicero’s demise. An anecdote about a property transaction pictures Fulvia’s greed during the proscriptions, replaying the reputation of Servilia for greed in relation to property. Caesetius Rufus was proscribed because he refused to sell her his neighbouring

71 On the circumstances: Syme (1939) 126.

72 Rohr Vio (2013) 84-87; (2015) 64-67 on the hostility of Cicero, emphasising his influence on Dio.

73 Roller (1997) 109-130, critiquing earlier approaches, and assessing the influence of declamation, perhaps from as early as the triumviral period, 118; Wright (2001) 436-452 at 441; 450 also highlights the rhetorical origins of this type of vituperation. Vivid description of mistreatment of a corpse typifies the declamatory tradition: Roller (1997) 122.

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house on the Palatine.74 When his head reached Antony, Antony disclaimed it, and forwarded it to Fulvia. She had it attached to the front of the house, instead of to the rostra (App. BC 4.

29 1). Valerius Maximus claims that Antony did not recognise Caesetius Rufus as a proscribed target (9.5.4). This episode exemplifies hostile representations of both Antony and

Fulvia, perhaps circulated by Octavian at the time of Mutina or later in the triumviral period.75 Other narrative details also attack Antony and his wife. According to Appian, when the triumvirs published an edict requiring the richest women to contribute to a triumviral imposition, an approach was made to the triumviral womenfolk. Fulvia’s behaviour is set in contrast to that of Octavia and Antony’s mother, Julia. She is portrayed as rude, inexcusable, and transgressive, but the women championed by Hortensia were trying to evade financial demands imposed by the triumvirs. Hortensia’s response is reported as an attack on Fulvia’s unconscionable approach (App. BC 4.32-34). Julia, as a Julian relative, gets rather better press than Fulvia.76 Again, polarised approaches lead to diverging views on the events.

Fulvia and her alleged domination of the Senate in 41 BC

The Severan author Dio reports that in 41 BC, Fulvia dominated the consuls, Publius

Servilius and Lucius Antonius, and that nothing happened without Fulvia’s approval.

Furthermore, he reports that Lucius, had only slight successes in the Alps, but obtained his triumph through bribery and Fulvia’s influence over the senate – a piece of direct military interference (Dio 48.4.1-6; cf. Oros. 6.18.17).77 If true, this conduct would resemble the

74 On whom: Hinard (1985) 439-441.

75 Virlouvet (2001) 75.

76 See further on Octavia and the speech of Hortensia – below.

77 Ferriès (2007) 181; Rohr Vio (2015) 67.

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behaviour of Servilia.78 The picture of Fulvia manipulating males around her helps account for Lucius’ status during 41 BC, and suits Octavian and his supporters after the removal of

Lucius and the death of Fulvia.

Fulvia and her obstruction of the settlement of Octavian’s veterans

Fulvia had remained at Rome during the Philippi campaign, with her children. Afterwards, she appears with Antony’s brother, Lucius, and Antony’s agent Manius, trying to prevent

Octavian from founding colonies before Antony’s return from the East (App. BC 5.14).79

Although she was Octavian’s mother-in-law, she planned to prevent Octavian from gaining the support of the veterans. If her role was as powerful as Appian and Dio insist, this interference in politics would in the past have been construed as seriously transgressive, and exceeded the prescribed boundaries for a respectable Roman matrona. Nevertheless, the conditions after Philippi were so unsettled and controversial that the supporters of Antony seem accepted the role assigned to Lucius and Fulvia.

Octavian’s pressing need to satisfy the soldiers derived from Antony’s popularity with his veterans in Italy, Octavian’s unpopularity with the senatorial class, and uncertainty over

Lepidus.80 Lucius Antonius and Fulvia initially relied on the triumviral agreement, and the marriage of Octavian to Fulvia’s daughter by Clodius (Plut. Ant. 20.1; Suet. Aug. 62.1; Dio

46.56.3).81 When discord arose with Fulvia and Lucius, Octavian soon returned Claudia, still a virgin. Suetonius describes Claudia’s immature age, and alleges a dispute with Fulvia as the

78 Gabba thinks that this is another aspect of the downplaying of Lucius’ role to enhance the responsibility of

Fulvia for the war: Gabba (1971) 146.

79 Ferriès (2007) 182.

80 Gabba (1971) 140; Welch (2012) 205-206..

81 Wardle (2014) 404.

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cause of the divorce (Suet. Aug. 62.1).82 Dio says that the divorce represented a break with

Fulvia - easier than an open quarrel with Antony (Dio 48.5.2-3). Suetonius implies that

Claudia’s marriage ended because of Octavian’s difficulties in getting on with Fulvia.83

Although a rupture with Fulvia suggests she mattered less to Octavian than his kinsman

Antony, the divorce was symbolically important as a break with a term of the Lex Titia, and did have further implications for the relationship with Antony.

Fulvia’s role in replacing Octavian’s land commissioners after Philippi

The Bononia agreement ratified under the Lex Titia specified land as the main legionary reward after Philippi (App. BC 4.7; Dio 47.2.1; EJ2 p. 32).84 Commissioners were appointed to assist in confiscating lands after the proscription, to ensure the loyalty of the soldiers (Dio

47.14.4).85 When Octavian returned to Italy in 41 BC, this generated friction among Octavian and Fulvia and Lucius Antonius. The commissioners were supposed to be bipartisan, but

82 Born c. 55 BC: Rohr Vio (2013) 43-44. Octavian later had to counter Antonian allegations that Claudia’s return proved his sexual passivity and effeminacy: Several sources accuse Octavian of sexual passivity (e.g.

Suet. Aug. 68), and he struggled to dispute allegations of cowardice at Philippi in his Autobiography/Memoirs

(Plin. NH 7.148; App. BC 4.110): Hallett (2006b) 151. Sling bullets from Perusia campaign show that this rumour continued to circulate: catalogued by Benedetti (2012) 71-73 (nos 29-31); see Hallet (1977); (2015) 250 for details of the insults inscribed on the bullets. Syme places the divorce early, before Lucius had shifted to

Praeneste, and before negotiations initiated by the veterans, but Dio thinks it directly provoked the Perusine war:

(1939) 209; a more significant later false step by Fulvia could however have provided the pretext. It has been suggested that Octavian deliberately waited until Fulvia was in the wrong: Wardle (2014) 405.

83 Suetonius tries to suggest political differences - rather than Octavian’s sexual inadequacy: Hallett (2006b)

152.

84 On the circumstances of the legislation: Osgood (2006a) 108.

85 Discussed by Keppie (1983) 59.

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Octavian replaced Antony’s nominees.86 Fulvia and Lucius Antonius hoped to gain advantage by settling Antonian colonies, and both Octavian and the Antonians planned to distribute property seized from the unarmed (Dio 48.6.1-2) - a massive upset for this group. At Bononia eighteen cities had been targeted, but Octavian now extended seizures to all Italy (Dio 48.6.2-

3; cf. App. BC 5.13). In spring 41 BC, Octavian, under duress, compromised with Lucius and

Fulvia, and reappointed Antonian nominees (App. BC 5.14). 87 Fulvia, advertising her support of Antony, produced her children by Antony and displayed them to the army, to discredit

Octavian’s plans, and to remind the soldiery of Antony’s exceptional performance at Philippi.

Octavian backed off after his own paltry record of sickness and absence (App. BC 5.14).

Fulvia is criticised for endangering her children, and for her transgressive presence in a military context (Florus Epit. 2.16.5; App. BC 5.14, 19; Dio 48.10).88 However, the children helped to establish her as Antony’s proxy, backed up by Lucius.89

Octavian had to conciliate, given the firm loyalty of Antony’s troops. He risked opposition from both the dispossessed and the veterans.90 Appian represents Octavian as sympathetic to the dispossessed, but unable to assist because of the veterans (App. BC 5.13; 15). The important counter-move by Fulvia, Lucius, and Manius, of insisting on Antonian land commissioners, was an exercise in ruthless diplomacy, in which Fulvia had a key role.

86 Dio claims that Lepidus was afraid of Octavian, and irresolute (Dio 48.5.1). Sources on Lepidus deliberately underplay his importance: Gabba (1971) 140.

87 Some can be named; Lucius Antonius himself may have been amongst their number, as well as other players, including Munatius Plancus (at Beneventum): Keppie (1983) 59; Crawford (1974) no. 525, a coin thought to commemorate the work of the surveyors.

88 Brennan (2012) 358; 360.

89 Rohr Vio (2015) 76.

90 For Octavian’s position: Gabba (1971) 140.

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Fulvia’s demonstrated public support for her husband established her as Antony’s proxy in the process of colonisation, raising both their profiles. Her role in the political manoeuvring is clearly transgressive, despite loyalty to her husband and his interests. It was certainly so viewed in retrospect even though she must have enhanced Antonian support at the time by her actions.

Attempts at conciliation leading to the siege of Perusia

Precise chronology of the events is elusive. Perusia was under siege during Lucius’ consulship in late 41 BC, and negotiations were not underway until early 40 BC (App. BC

5.38-39). The events described below date from spring 41 BC to the end of the year. The war apparently broke out in about the middle of 41 BC.91

Appian and Dio claim that Fulvia and Lucius started to support the communities dispossessed by Octavian in preference to the veterans. The extent of Fulvia’s direct role in the negotiations is questionable, and could form part of Octavian’s later propaganda. Fulvia and

Lucius dealt with the communities individually, and united them, without alienating the soldiers (Dio 48.6.4-5; 47.1; cf. App. BC 5.19). Their pitch to the veterans was that the lands of their civil war opponents were sufficient, and promised additional possibilities in Asia

(Dio 48.7.2). Dissatisfaction amongst the veterans grew, as they expected to lose out (Dio

48.9.1). They killed centurions and other conciliators, threatened Octavian, and were not placated until their remaining opponents in the civil war supplied allotments (Dio 48.9.2-3;

App. BC 5.13; cf. Suet. Aug. 14; App. BC 5.16).92 The people were equally angry, leading to loss of life (Dio 48.9.4-5). Appian allows that the soldiers repented when Octavian divided

91 Welch (2012) 218; 229-230.

92 Gowing (1992) 81.

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the land as promised (BC 5.16), but flags the weak chain of command (BC 5.17). Octavian was forced to make overtures to Fulvia and Lucius Antonius.

After an unsuccessful meeting at Teanum, brokered by the officer class in the army (App. BC

5.20-21; cf. Dio 48.10-3-4; Vell. 2.74.3), Octavian tried to pacify Fulvia and Lucius, using intermediaries. According to Dio, Fulvia and Lucius believed they had outmanoeuvred

Octavian, and planned to exploit this. Lucius approached the veterans, and Dio assigns a provocative role at Praeneste to Fulvia, describing her as operating a virtual court, with senators and equestrians as advisors, and sending out orders as required. She had a military presence wearing a sword, issuing the watchword to soldiers, and haranguing them like a

Roman general (48.10.3-4; cf. Vell. 2.74.3; Florus Epit. 2.16.5; App. BC 5.21). Dio, supplying Octavian’s view, remarks that this was offensive to Octavian – representing him as a custodian of propriety (Dio 48.10. 1 -4). Plutarch attributes Fulvia’s conflict with Octavian to her defence of Antony’s interests, whereas Antony was in thrall to Cleopatra (Plut. Ant.

28.1; cf. Suet. Aug. 69). Plutarch does not share Dio’s pro-Octavian view that Fulvia and

Lucius had conflicting aims. Negotiations with Octavian ultimately failed (App. BC 5.22-23;

Dio 48.10.2-3). Octavian’s later propaganda influenced accounts of Fulvia’s actions. Like governor’s wives in the early empire, Fulvia laid herself open to criticism through her necessary (but frowned upon) involvement with the military, as she supported her husband’s interests in Italy.93 The true extent of her contribution is obscured by propaganda.

After unsuccessful use of intermediaries, Octavian employed veterans as envoys, convincing them that his opponents had caused delays over their settlement (Dio 48.11.1-4). His suggestion of arbitration was met with fear and suspicion. His opponents described the

93 Marshall (1975a) 11-12.

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veterans as a senatus caligatus.94 A confrontation with Fulvia and Lucius resulted, and the veterans sided with Octavian while gathering financial resources for war (Dio 48.12.3).

Antony received letters informing him of developments (App. BC 5.21; cf. Plut. Ant. 30.2).95

Officers suggested another meeting, which Lucius refused when confronted with an embassy of optimates (App. BC 5.21). The legions at Ancona, originally Caesarian troops, who later served under Antony, and shunned conflict, made a final request for cooling off (App. BC

5.23).

In Appian’s version, Lucius went to Praeneste, claiming to fear Octavian and his bodyguard; his own disappeared under the Teanum agreement. Fulvia left Rome and joined Lepidus at

Praeneste to protect her children, preferring Lepidus to Octavian (App. BC 5.21). Dio, in contrast, highlights Fulvia’s contempt for Lepidus’ slothfulness (Dio 48.4.1).96 Although

Lepidus is said to be near Rome; no source confirms his location. Antony had information from both camps about developments, but Appian’s researches into Antony’s responses were unproductive (App. BC 5.21). Appian’s account can perhaps be reconciled with that of Dio, if

Fulvia later moved to Praeneste. However, the hostile presentation of Fulvia as the instigator of the war appears important. Although Dio claims that Fulvia had a separate role, she is likely to have acted in conjunction with Lucius. Early imperial sources uniformly spread

Octavian’s message. Velleius, in the passage decrying Fulvia’s masculinity, also bases

Fulvia at Praeneste, makes prejudicial statements about Lucius and Plancus, and emphasises the clemency of Octavian towards Lucius after the siege of Perusia (Vell. 2.74). Valerius

Maximus even attributes military ambitions to Fulvia during her earlier marriage to Clodius

94 A senate in military boots: OLD s.v. caligatus.

95 Gabba (1971) 150 on likely attitudes of Antony to the situation in Italy – hardly pleasing to him.

96 A persistent theme in Octavian’s propaganda: Vell. 2.80.

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(Val. Max. 3.5.3). Octavian’s description of her behaviour in the lead up to Perusia must lie behind these accounts.97 Her transgressive role at Perusia has at least been grossly magnified.

With matters unsettled, the veterans met on the Capitoline, planning to issue a statement to the Senate and the people; they ratified the original agreement between Antony and Octavian, recorded their assent, and deposited sealed documents with the Vestals. They demanded arbitration at Gabii – chosen for its location between Rome and Praeneste (Dio 48.12.1-2 cf.

App. BC 5.23). Octavian, despite agreement in principle to arbitration, did not come to Gabii.

Dio’s account makes the uncooperative attitude of Lucius and Fulvia key. Personalities are important in Roman historiography, but the personalities of these protagonists are barely developed. Appian looks for other causes: Lucius claimed that war was already afoot, and that Octavian pretended to negotiate. Moreover, Manius produced a letter of questionable authenticity from Antony sanctioning war (App. BC 5.29).98

When the veterans finally abandoned Lucius and Fulvia, and prepared for war, they took

Octavian as their champion, and gathered resources (Dio 48.12.3-5; cf. App. BC 5.13).99

Lucius meanwhile, took advantage of Octavian’s absence, headed for Rome, captured the city, and ousted Lepidus, without opposition from the consul Servilius. Lepidus fled to

Octavian (Dio 48.13.3-4; App. BC 5.30), while Fulvia perhaps remained at Praeneste, away from the conflict. When Octavian left affairs at Sentinum to Salvidienus Rufus, he returned to

Rome, causing Lucius to decamp after securing a popular vote to prosecute a war.100

97 Her military exploits are given credence by Reinhold (1933) 18; 19; Bauman (1992) 89.

98 Syme (1939) 209; Ferriès (2007) 187-188.

99 Octavian is supposed to have exempted women’s dowries (Dio 48.8.5).

100 This was perhaps from the centuriate assembly. Appian has Lucius foretelling the end of Lepidus and

Octavian, and the end of triumvirate (App. BC 5.30).

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Octavian was able to enter the city without resistance (Dio 48.13.5).101 His speech to the

Senate and equestrian order, as reported by Appian, does not prioritise the role of Fulvia, but sees Lucius as the main player (App. BC 5.28), and claims that the majority of the elite as well as the people in Rome at this point joined Lucius (App. BC 5.29; 31).

Lucius now tried to harness the Antonian generals in the north, but, as he headed north, he diverted into Perusia, deceived by a trick laid by Agrippa.102 Importantly, Ventidius and

Pollio were already doubtful about whether Antony had indeed authorised the war, and disapproved of it (App. BC 5.32). Because the two generals were slow to act, Salvidienus,

Octavian, and Agrippa trapped Lucius in Perusia. Despite the famous slings bullets from

Perusia, vilifying Fulvia, she was apparently not at Perusia during the siege, but the abusive sling bullets still demonstrate her reputation as one of the main political players.103 The circulation of this story might be damaging enough to the Antonian cause.

Appian summarises developments activated by Fulvia and Manius after Perusia was isolated through massive circumvallation (App. BC 5.33). Fulvia is credited with urging Antonian commanders in Gaul to assist Lucius (Ventidius, Asinius, Ateius, and Calenus). If she was behind this move, she hoped to back up Lucius through her powerful Antonian political

101 Dio adds that Furnius pursued Octavian when he left Sentinum, and Salvidienus returned, burnt, and pillaged the town. Dio also says that the people of Nursia successfully concluded a truce, but were heavily fined for claiming that their dead had died defending libertas (Dio 48.13.6) – not sentiments friendly to the cause of

Octavian, similar to the hostile tone recorded in relation to Perusia at Suet. Aug. 15. Compare the more favourable Appian (BC 5.49), who casts the blame for the destruction of Perusia on local firebrands.

102 Welch thinks that Agrippa showed his mettle as a general and simply outclassed Lucius: Welch (2012) 227-

229.

103 CIL 11.6721.5: peto Fulviae landicam. Thoroughly discussed by Hallett (1977); catalogued by Benedetti

(2012) 73 (no. 32).

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connections. Her base was at Praeneste, rather than at Beneventum, where Plancus had been settling veterans (ILS 886).104 She is claimed to have organised Plancus to send recruits to

Lucius (App. BC 5.33). Plancus raised these soldiers, and used his resources to destroy one of

Octavian’s legions on its way to Rome. This legion perhaps consisted of veterans already settled in Bruttium rather than those at Capua.105 According to Appian, Fulvia and Manius induced Asinius and Ventidius to proceed towards Lucius at Perusia despite doubts. Octavian and Agrippa prevented their advance southwards, and they disappeared to Ravenna and

Ariminum. Plancus also extricated himself, and sheltered at Spoletium (App. BC 5.33). As the siege intensified, Ventidius and his allies, including Plancus, tried to support them, but feared encirclement by Agrippa and Salvidienus Rufus. They sheltered at Fulginiae (App. BC

5.35), but could not face the besiegers. Although on the sidelines, Fulvia is represented as heavily involved in military affairs, in direct contact with major players, and shoring up the support of Antonian allies. Her supportive actions suggest her financial role, and explain the crude insults on the sling bullets from Perusia. No direct involvement in combat is recorded.

Our partisan authorities nevertheless represent her as acting transgressively in a manner inappropriate to the decorum of a Roman matrona.

Aftermath of Perusia and the death of Fulvia

Fulvia’s situation after Perusia and the dispersal of the Antonian legions quickly transform her role into that of victim. Her entourage fled initially to Puteoli and thence to Brundusium, escorted by 3000 men on horseback, provided by Antonian commanders. She had no troops in her own right. From Brundisium, she embarked for Greece, accompanied by five war-ships sent from Macedonia, and by Plancus. Appian censures Plancus for abandoning remnants of

104 Settlements at Beneventum: Torelli (2002) 132-168, especially 141-147.

105 Torelli (2002) 142-143.

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his army through cowardice. Velleius places emphasis elsewhere: magnanimous Octavian granted both Fulvia and the cowardly Plancus free passage (Vell. 2.76.2).

Fulvia reached Greece safely, but did not long survive the Perusine war. Plutarch narrates that

Antony, learning of her arrival, returned from Phoenicia and headed to Italy to seek reconciliation with Octavian (Plut Ant. 30.2). Meantime, Fulvia sailed to join Antony, but fell sick and died at Sicyon (Plut. Ant. 30.3). Plutarch’s narrative highlights the idea that Antony and Octavian perceived an opportunity to assign Fulvia the responsibility for the defeat. At

Brundisium, under the new settlement in 40 BC, no detailed analysis of Fulvia’s role in starting the Perusine war was undertaken (Plut. Ant. 30.3).

Accordin to Appian Antony returned to his wife, mother, and children in Athens early in 40

BC, and Fulvia only survived the fall of Perusia by a few weeks. Antony angrily blamed

Lucius, Fulvia, but especially Manius, for the events at Perusia (BC 5.52). While Antony was seeking a meeting with Octavian in Italy, Fulvia died at Sicyon in the Peloponnese, abandoned by her husband. Antony incurred blame; he had deserted her in sickness (BC

5.59). All the sources see her death as an opportunity to blame her for politically damaging events in Italy.106 Appian even claims that both Octavian and Antony accepted that she had fanned the flames of a divisive war out of jealousy towards Cleopatra (BC 5.59).107

Dio describes the flight of Fulvia and her children to her husband after Perusia, with other eminent people, some preferring Sextus Pompey to Antony. Julia, Antony’s mother, went first to Pompey, then to Antony in the company of Pompey’s envoys (Dio 48.15; cf. App. BC

5.52). He gives contrasting motives for reconciliation of Octavian and Antony after Fulvia’s

106 Münzer in RE VII (1910) 284.

107 Bauman accepts this interpretation fairly literally; he argues that Fulvia had been trying to outmanoeuvre

Octavian, and, once she was gone, reconciliation between the rival factions was possible: Bauman (1992) 88-89.

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death: Fulvia caused the breakdown of the triumviral relationship, or Fulvia’s behaviour made possible the resolution of a volatile situation, by sanctioning a new distribution of territory between Antony and Octavian (Dio 48. 28.3-4). They were to undertake common war against Sextus Pompey, although Dio insists that Antony had already bound himself to an agreement with Pompey, by oaths communicated through envoys (Dio 48.29.1; cf. App.

BC 5.52).

Conclusion

Fulvia’s career has many contrasts in many repects with those of other women treated in this study. Although she fulfilled a traditional role by producing children for all three of her popularis husbands, there is little attention to her role in their upbringing; indeed the children appear only in situations where they can help to improve her husbands’ political positioning.

Claudia, her daughter, was matched with Octavian in an attempt to consolidate the triumviral arrangement, but this arrangement did not survive in the contentious atmosphere after

Philippi. Sources represent Fulvia as emerging from the role of Antony’s proxy into a provocative individual role.

The hostile picture of Fulvia is a product of the careers of Clodius and Antony, and the extensive support she gave to these husbands, demonstrating the traditional virtue of fides.

Roman male sources – influenced by Augustan propaganda - placed emphasis on her overbearing personality and direct and transgressive involvement in politics. Cicero already had a hostile relationship with Clodius, because of events in 58 BC, the razing of his house in

57 BC, and other political encounters, including the trial of Milo. Later, Octavian had reason to be critical of Fulvia because of the sexual slurs thrown in his face after his dismissal of

Fulvia’s daughter, Claudia in 41 BC, and the escalation of their dispute leading to the

Perusine war. Fulvia faced allegations that she adopted transgressive male roles; Fulvia’s 238

disdain for the role of matrona and custos justified claims that she was mannish, a jibe to match male failure to take a dominant role, equally seen as a challenge to sexual identity.

The divisions of point of view between Fulvia and Lucius are hard to assess, but may be ahistorical. Also problematic is the claim that Fulvia’s motive for a war with Octavian was to draw Antony away from Cleopatra, and that she was singlehandedly responsible for starting the war. The allegation of female rivalry adds to this, and serves to dismiss her as an effective politician, and to reduce her to the status of a woman consumed by the wayward behaviour of an errant husband.

Her actual role in resettlements and the lead up to the war saw her adopting male roles – including direct consultation with the commanders of Antony’s forces in North Italy, presumably originally approved in some form by Antony. It is a significant indication of

Roman male attitudes that these troops refused to relieve Perusia when requested. Octavian also circulated an image of the impropriety of Fulvia’s behaviour at Praeneste to bolster his propaganda during the lead up to the Perusine campaign. Fulvia did however have limited success with those within Italy, and accustomed to dealing with her, especially Munatius

Plancus.

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Chapter 9: Octavia

Background, significance, and sources

Octavia minor, as older sister of the future emperor Augustus, helped to redefine the role of elite women, and pioneered a crucial public role in the dynastic system. Octavia’s role as the mother of Marcellus, and her marriage to Antony, established areas of competence for herself and Livia, whose life consolidated the process of remodelling Roman society.1 Octavia’s life on the Palatine started in the triumviral period after she returned from Athens, and her reputation grew, assisted by contrasts with Antony’s other wives, Fulvia and Cleopatra.

Octavia was born in about 69 BC into a family from Velitrae, a Volscian town in the Alban hills south east of Rome, near the Via Appia (Suet. Aug. 4.1; Plut. Ant. 31).2 The family had recently emerged from the equestrian order. Octavia’s father, C. Octavius, had married twice, first to Ancharia, a woman of wealthy regional stock.3 His senatorial career ended with an early death in 59/58 BC before he reached the consulship.4 Octavia and Octavian were products of their father’s second marriage. The marriage to Atia signified Octavius’ improving political fortune. Atia, from Aricia on the Via Appia, was Caesar’s niece, the

1 Valentini (2016) 241.

2 For the villa attributed to the Octavii at S. Cesareo, near Velletri: Coarelli (1984) 251, reproducing Vighi;

Ghini (2001) 36-43; Marzano (2007) 633.

3 Ancharia produced Octavia maior, step-sister of Octavia and Octavian. Plutarch confuses the two Octaviae

(Plut. Ant. 31; 87): Singer (1948) 268-274. Octavia maior married Sex. Appuleius and produced Sex. Appuleius

(cos. 29 BC) and M. Appuleius (cos. 20 BC), both consuls after Actium, benefitting from the rise of Octavian.

In 30/29 BC Octavian made Appuleius a patrician (RG 8; Dio 52.42.5).

4 His occupancy of the praetorship was followed by a proconsulate in Macedonia (Suet. Aug. 4.1): Wardle

(2014) ad loc.

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daughter of his sister Julia and M. Atius Balbus, a local identity worthy of Caesar’s family.5

Atia took L. Marcius Philippus, cos. 56 BC, the homonymous father of her sister’s husband, as her second husband. 6

Before 54 BC Octavia became the wife of C. Claudius Marcellus (cos. 50 BC) (Plut.

Marcellus 30.6).7 Born in 88 BC, Octavia’s first husband had been previously married, and was about twenty years her senior.8 The marriage was arranged after the conference at Luca in 56 BC to bring a Pompeian closer to the Caesarians (Plut. Ant. 87.2).9 Marcellus’ pedigree was an advance for the Octavii.10 Octavia was thought capable of diverting Marcellus from hostility to Caesar, but he continued to oppose Caesar; Caesar pardoned him after Pharsalus, although Marcellus had to leave politics, and survived in relative obscurity until 40 BC (Dio

40.59.1-4).11 When her husband left politics in 48 BC, Octavia had been married at least six

5 Atius Balbus reached the praetorship in 60 BC: Wiseman (1971) 56. Atia’s younger sister, Atia minor, married

L. Marcius Philippus, cos.suff. 38 BC. Designated as matertera to Octavia and Octavian by Ovid (Fasti 6.809;

Ex Ponto 1.2.139); her daughter, Marcia, was Octavia’s cousin: Corbier (1994) 258.

6 On this marriage: Cebeillac-Gervasoni (1998) 217. The established aristocracy at Rome sneered at aspiring municipal families, but these marriages show their integration into the elite. In the third Philippic, Cicero himself from municipal Arpinum, responds to Antony’s attempts to attack Atia on the grounds of her Arician origin (Cic. Phil. 3.6.17): Treggiari (1991) 91.

7 Octavia was close in age to Cleopatra, who died aged 39 in 30 BC (Plut. Ant. 57.5): Fischer (1999) 68.

8 Marcellus’ previous marriage produced dynastically significant grandchildren: P. Quinctilius Varus and his two sisters: Reinhold (1972) 119-121. On age at marriage: Hopkins (1965) 309-327; for refinements: Shaw

(1987) 30-46.

9 Fischer (1999) 6.

10 Marcellus was conscious of his distinction, and friendly with Cicero and Atticus. Atticus compiled the history of his clan (Nepos Att. 18.4).

11 For his politics: Taylor (1949) 159; Gruen (1974) 509; Fischer (1999) 71-74.

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years, and on his death, Octavia would be nearly thirty. This marriage already supported the political interests of her family.

In 40 BC, when Octavia was now a mother of three children, her husband died. Meantime,

Octavian had become one of the triumvirs under the agreement at Bononia (Lex Titia, 27

November 43 BC).12 His sister’s life changed when her husband’s death left her available to marry his fellow triumvir, Antony.13 As Antony’s fourth wife, Octavia suffered from the fragile relationship between Octavian and Antony. The marriage started well; Octavia moved to Athens, and had further children, but the relationship was seriously compromised as

Antony’s relationship with Cleopatra developed after Octavia returned to Rome. Meantime at

Tarentum in 37 BC, she had a significant role as intermediary, combining the roles of faithful wife and loyal sister.

In Rome, she continued supporting Antony, as an exemplary wife. Her brother exposed her circumstances to public gaze to foreground her shabby treatment by Antony. Sources indicate that she initially resisted her brother’s attitude to Antony, but it was soon clear that the marriage was over. After Actium, she still respected Antony’s memory, and cared for

Antony’s other surviving children, as her own children grew up. She was prominent at court and in the city, and had new opportunities within the domus Augusta. Although her son and heir died in 23 BC, causing her considerable grief and reducing her dynastic role, she gained respect through promoting Augustan ideals, and sponsoring contemporary culture. Each stage of her life broke new bounds compared with earlier generations of Roman women.

12 For Lepidus as intermediary at Bononia: Weigall (1992) 67-71.

13 Their mother, Atia, had died during Octavian’s first consulship in 43 BC (Suet. Aug. 61.2; cf. Dio 47.17.6 [42 BC]). 242

The date of Octavia’s death is disputed, 11 BC according to most sources (Dio 54.35; Liv.

Per. 140; Sen. Dial 11.15). Suetonius records her death in 10 BC when Augustus was 53

(Suet. Aug. 61). Augustus and her son-in-law Drusus praised her at her funus publicum (Dio

54.35; Cons. Ad Liviam 442-443). After display in the forum in the temple of the Divus

Iulius, her sons-in-law carried her to the grave in the Mausoleum of Augustus (Dio 54.35.4).

The venue for the funeral was a reminder of the revenge that Octavian had taken for the death of Julius Caesar at Philippi and how later at Actium he had stood by Octavia and punished the wrongs inflicted on her by Antony.14 Octavia continued to serve the regime’s purposes even in death. She shared her marker within the tomb with her son Marcellus.15

Limitations of the evidence

There is little testimony for Octavia’s marriage to Claudius Marcellus because of her first husband’s undistinguished career. After her marriage to Antony, the focus of the sources is not on Octavia herself, but on her interactions with Octavian and Antony. Because Octavian ultimately defeated Antony, there is much idealisation of Octavia, who is contrasted to Fulvia and Cleopatra. The propaganda from the Perusine and the later Actian war places much emphasis on her untarnished reputation, but, despite her reputed moral excellence, we never hear her voice or understand her feelings about important events in her life. Plutarch, for biographical reasons, constantly emphasises contrasts with Antony’s other wives, while the

Autobiography/Memoirs of Augustus have been thought to underlie Appian’s account. Dio was also influenced by Augustan propaganda. As with Cornelia, Octavia’s role as mother

14 Wood (1999) 34-35.

15 In the 1920s epitaphs for Octavia and her son Marcellus were discovered under the Augusteo on the site of the

Mausoleum of Augustus. They were simple gravestones engraved in honour of the name of the sister and son- in-law of Augustus Caesar (AE 1928, 88): Cumont (1927) 313-314; (1928) 318-319.

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tends to smother other facets of her personality. In relation to patronage, her role is hard to separate from that of her brother, and ancient and modern observers have often failed to appreciate the changed role of women in patronage under the Augustan regime.

Applying the tests

Traditional roles

The marriage of Antony and Octavia

Antony’s marriage to Octavia, less than ten months after her husband’s death (Plut Ant. 31.3), was fundamental to the future of the triumvirate; politically motivated marriages were a longstanding tradition in the Roman Republic. After Perusia, the Brundisium accord of late

40 BC aimed to settle differences between Antony and Octavian. Appian emphasises

Octavian’s distrust of Antony, because Octavian believed that Antony was inciting Pompey to disrupt commercial access to Italy (App. BC 5.51; 54; 56; 63; Dio 48.29.1). Meanwhile,

Octavian was trying unsuccessfully to get the veterans to fight Antony (App. BC 5.53; 59;

61).16 Neither party could proceed on this basis.

Octavia is represented as the hope for harmony in the Roman world. Plutarch emphasises general enthusiasm for the marriage, Octavia’s closeness to her brother, and the coincidence that both Antony and Octavia had recently lost partners.17 Octavia is credited with beauty, intelligence, dignity, and capacity as a peacemaker (Plut. Ant. 31.1-3). Plutarch contrasts

16 Welch (2012) 234-236.

17 ILS 3784 records that on October 12 40 BC, the magistrates at Casinum set up a signum concordiae, perhaps the date of the concord: Syme (1939) 217. Velleius has the chronology very confused and places the marriage of

Antony and Octavia after the treaty of Misenum (2.78.1): noted by Welch (2012) 231. Pelling, following

Appian, says it was initiated by Octavian and his friends, while Antony was passive: (1988) 201.

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Octavia with Cleopatra, to assist in his characterisation of Antony, claiming that the public believed that Octavia would put Cleopatra in the shade.18 Plutarch’s analysis shows little interest in Octavia’s emotional state, and her view of the situation. Octavia was not even present at Brundisium.

Plutarch notes the senatorial decree sanctioning Octavia’s remarriage after widowhood

(tempus lugendi), possible since Octavia was already pregnant by her previous husband – not mentioned by Plutarch, although prominent in Dio (48.31.3-5).19 The popularly approved marriage took place in November 40 BC.20

Appian’s fuller account highlights the determination of Octavian’s veterans to reconcile the opponents to avert conflict with former comrades (BC 5.57). Moreover, news of Fulvia’s death coincided with the impasse at Brundisium (BC 5.59). 21 The army forced the two male protagonists to enter into a marriage alliance to stabilise the situation. Significant partisans of

Antony and Octavian were the chief actors.

Octavia was legally independent after Marcellus’ death. Her new marriage in 40 BC was sanctioned by Octavian. According to Plutarch, Octavian dearly loved his sister (Plut. Ant.

31.1).22 Octavia, awaiting the birth of Marcella minor, probably before the wedding

(October/November 40 BC), remained at Rome throughout negotiations.23

18 Pelling (1988) 13.

19 A 10 month period was required after a spouse’s death to prevent turbatio sanguinis. A rule supposedly established by Numa: Plut. Numa 12.2: Riccobono (1941) 12. For potential infamia for infringements: D. 3.2.1;

3.2.8; 3.2.10.

20 As observed Velleius 2.78.1 mistakenly places the marriage after the Misenum accord.

21 Appian outlines the role of Antony’s mother Julia in reaching a solution (BC 5.63).

22 Plutarch is influenced by his desire to mark the contrast with Cleopatra.

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Octavia faced challenging prospects in complying with the match authorised by her brother, but forced on him by the umpires, Asinius Pollio, Maecenas, and Cocceius Nerva. Feelings at Rome were running high; immediate conflict between Antony and Octavian was averted, but there remained the spectre of conflict with Sextus Pompey. Antony feared loss of veteran support if he refused to marry, while Octavia’s unenviable role was to stabilise tensions. Dio remarks that popular discontent continued over tensions with Pompey. Antony meantime prepared for his Parthian campaign (Dio 48.31.1-6). Octavia had the prospect of setting up house in Athens with a husband soon to be absent in Parthia.

Children and their education

There is a strong focus on Octavia’s nurturing role as a matrona. However, she followed

Cornelia’s interest in cultivating and employing Greek scholars, and after Actium took advantage of the cosmopolitan atmosphere in Rome. She fostered family ties by arranging the marriages of her children in conjunction with her brother. Her educational and nurturing roles are presented as highly inclusive, and extended to Antony’s children by previous relationships as well as to client children.

Octavia was married for about a decade before she had surviving children by Claudius

Marcellus.24 She married Antony when nearly thirty, and was divorced in 32 BC in her later thirties. Her five surviving children were all born in the period 43 BC to 36 BC.

Octavia’s children by Marcellus were two girls (the two Marcellas) and a boy, Marcellus, born in 42 BC.25 Marcella maior, married Agrippa in 28 BC (PIR2 C 1102; Plut. Ant. 87; Dio

23 She gave birth to Antony’s child, Antonia maior, in late summer or early autumn of the following year (Plut.

Ant. 33.3-4; Dio 48.38.1-3): Fischer (1999) 79-80; 106.

24 She may have lost other children soon after birth or in early childhood: Fischer (1999) 74.

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53.1.2) was divorced by him in 21 BC to facilitate Agrippa’s marriage to Julia (Dio 54.6.5).26

Plutarch claims that Octavia encouraged this arrangement (Plut. Ant. 87.2).27 At the time of the Brundisium agreement, Octavia was pregnant with Marcella minor, born just before

Octavia’s wedding to Antony in November 40 BC (PIR2 C 1103; Dio 48.31.3-4; cf. Plut. Ant.

31; App. BC 5.64).

After Brundisium, Octavia took on oversight of Antony’s children (Plut. Ant. 87.1). Octavia’s behaviour contrasts sharply with the Roman stereotype of the stepmother.28 Indeed Dixon notes that she ‘made a public relations exercise of her benevolence’.29 Her existing children were soon supplemented by Antonia maior and Antonia minor. The new marriage was hailed as the beginning of a new age, and Vergil, in his 4th Eclogue (40 BC) emphasised the traditional aims of these alliances when he proclaimed that a son who would rule the world might be born, a hope dashed by the birth of these daughters.30

25 Slightly older than Tiberius, born in the same year (Plut. Ant. 87.2; Suet. Tib. 6).

26 For Marcella: Raepsaet-Charlier (1987) no. 242. Agrippa’s previous wife, Caecilia Attica, had Q. Caecilius

Epirota as her tutor. His lost his employment for an undisclosed crime, possibly of a sexual nature (Suet. De

Gramm. 16.1): Richlin (2014a) 44.

27 Pelling notes that this point - not picked up by other sources – could form part of Plutarch’s very favourable characterisation of Octavia – the emphasis on her selflessness: (1988) 325. Syme dismisses the role of Octavia, and sees Augustus behind the move: (1986) 144; Valentini (2016) 244. Marcella had several children by

Agrippa (Suet. Aug. 63.2). On their possible identity: Corbier (1994) 253-255. After her divorce from Agrippa,

Marcella was married to Fulvia’s son, Iullus Antonius (Vell. 2.100.4; Plut. Ant. 87). She was born in 41 BC or earlier, in 44 or 43 BC. Syme favours 43 BC: (1986) 143-144.

28 Gray-Fow (1988) 741-57; Noy (1991) 345-61 (with comprehensive bibliography); Watson (1995).

29 Dixon (1992) 144.

30 Syme (1986) 141, citing Tarn (1932) 135-160.

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Once based at Rome, Octavia was able to offer her son Marcellus exposure to complex intellectual stimuli. She took full advantage of the environment created by her brother, and his interest in the children associated with the court.31 Some educational decisions were based on consultation, but others were independent, and gave Octavia individuality within the domus Augusta. Her example is reminiscent of Cornelia, although the court environment did represent a substantial change. She herself seems to benefit from these intellectuals as well as her son.

Athenodorus of Tarsus, the son of Sandon, a Stoic follower of Posidonius, dedicated a book to Octavia (Plut. Publ. 17.5), perhaps not a consolation to Octavia after Marcellus’ death, as

Cichorius suggested.32 It could be unrelated – a marker of her interest in Stoicism.33

Whatever its subject, the dedication marked respect and close acquaintance. Athenodorus, who taught Octavian, was well established in Rome by 44 BC and might also have taught

Octavia (Strabo 14.5.14=C674; Zos. 1.6; cf. Plut. Mor. 814, 18; Dio 56.43.2).34 After Actium, he returned home to Tarsus, and ruled with Augustan support until his death at the age of 82

(Ps. Lucian Macrobioi 23).35

Nestor of Tarsus, the Academic philosopher, was in Augustus’ household during the 20s when Athenodorus returned to Tarsus. 36 Octavia secured Nestor to teach Marcellus (Strabo

14.5.14=C675; Ps. Lucian Macrobioi 21). He too ruled Tarsus in the imperial interest,

31 Harders (2009) 231.

32 Hemelrijk (1999) 292 n. 37; Cichorius (1922) 281-282, approved by Bowersock (1965) 32 as a consolatio on the occasion of her son’s death; Dueck (2000) 140.

33 Hemelrijk (1999) 107.

34 Bowersock (1965) 32; Dueck (2000) 11. Augustus and Athenodorus: Grimal (1945) 261-273; (1946) 62-79.

35 Strabo includes his impressions of a visit to Petra (Strabo 16.4.21=C779): Wright (1969) 113-116.

36 Harders (2009) 231.See Suet. Aug. 17.5.

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apparently after Marcellus’ death in 23 BC, and lived to the age of 92 (Ps. Lucian Macrobioi

21).37 Nestor’s colleague Athenaeus hailed from nearby Seleucia, and was both a politician and an authority on siege engines (Strabo 14.5.4=C670).38 The combination of philosophical or practical interests with a career in politics typifies the Tarsian elite. Athenaeus wrote a work for Marcellus before he participated in the Spanish campaigns in 25 BC, no doubt on a military theme, and later survived association with the conspirator Murena (Strabo

14.5.4=C670). These significant Greeks are of similar intellectual background to those employed earlier by Cornelia.

The marriage of Julia and Marcellus, and the death of Marcellus

Agrippa presided over the close-kin marriage of Marcellus to Julia early in 25 BC because

Augustus was ill (Suet. Aug. 63.1; Dio 53.27.5). Marriage between cousins seem not to have created controversy at Rome. Marcellus was barely seventeen, but died suddenly in 23 BC, despite the presence of Augustus’ doctor, Musa (Dio 53.30 4).39 In his life of Vergil,

Suetonius reports Octavia’s extreme grief when the poet mentioned her son during a reading of the Aeneid.40 Seneca contrasts the response of Livia to the death of Drusus (Sen. Ad Marc.

37 Strabo comments that Augustan Rome was full of scholars from Tarsus and Alexandria (Strabo

14.5.15=C675).

38 For the latter (Athenaeus Mechanicus): Cichorius (1922) 271-279; Bowersock (1965) 34. Cichorius’ identification of this man as Athenaeus Mechanicus is doubted by Hemelrijk (1999) 291 n. 30.

39 Velleius comments on popular belief that Marcellus was to succeed Augustus, and the resulting rivalry with

Agrippa. At the time of his death, he had just sponsored a public spectacle as aedile (Vell. 2.93.1), and Agrippa had departed for Asia, to ease tensions between himself and Marcellus. He returned on Marcellus’ death to marry Julia (Vell. 2.93.2).Other notices of his death: Propertius 3.18.3; Plut. Marcell 30; Servius Ad Aen. 6.861.

On Marcellus’ conflict with Agrippa: Dio 53.32.1.

40 Shackleton Bailey (1986) 199-205: doubted by Horsfall (2001) 135-137.

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2.3-5; Cons. ad Liviam 441). Octavia avoided any contact with reminders of Marcellus, and shunned consolatory works. Seneca reinforces the picture of excessive grief: Octavia’s anger with Livia appears to grow because she felt that Livia’s child had usurped her hopes for

Marcellus, and she resented the prosperity of her brother, and her surviving grandchildren

(Ad Marc. 2.4: Octavia hated all mothers and was inflamed most of all against Livia…).

Emphasis falls on Octavia’s upset at her loss of political standing through the death of her son.41 Her strong position in the early Augustan principate depended on her new and ground breaking role as mother of the heir presumptive. Nevertheless, little is known about the subsequent relationship between Octavia and Livia.42 The constitutional changes underlie the perception of her disappointment and distress, given that male heirs were now even more important than under the Republic.

Octavia’s daughters

After Marcellus’ death, Octavia still had four daughters, two Marcellas and two Antonias.

They must have provided some solace.43 Octavia and her brother had vested interests in the marriage of Agrippa and Marcella maior, and Marcella’s subsequent marriage to Iullus

Antonius.44 For Augustus, the display of his magnanimous attitude to Iullus Antonius was a point of honour. Agrippa’s marriage to the elder Marcella in 28 BC integrated him into the

41 On mothers living vicariously through their sons: Dixon (1988) 194.

42 Dixon (1988) 178; (1992) 142 considers Octavia’s possible ongoing resentment of Livia.

43 For the relationship of Roman mothers with their daughters: Phillips (1978) 68-80.

44 Corbier (1994) 251-257.

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Julio-Claudian family (PIR2 C 1102).45 In 21 BC, Octavia organised Marcella’s remarriage to

Iullus Antonius, after Agrippa divorced her to facilitate his marriage to Julia.46

Suitable marriages were arranged in due course for Marcella minor (PIR2 C 1103), born soon after her father’s death in 40 BC, and for Antonia maior and Antonia minor. Few details of the arrangements survive. Antonia minor’s marriage to Drusus occurred in spring 18 BC

(Crinagoras Anth. Pal. 6.345) and must have been settled between Octavia, Augustus, and

Livia.47 Drusus was some two years older than Antonia. Octavia would have lived to see something of Antonia’s children. Suetonius charts three surviving children, Germanicus,

Livilla and Claudius, born between 15-10 BC (Suet. Claud. 1.6). Antonia’s known career and networks hint at her mother’s influence in the eastern provinces.48 The imperial household would have had its impact on the interpretation of the traditional maternal role at many levels.

At court Octavia supervised the education of extended family, and organised marriages for client children. Plutarch credits Octavia with arranging marriage between Cleopatra Selene and Juba of Mauretania (Plut. Ant. 87).49 Dio Cassius thought that Augustus initiated the marriage.50 Although the marriage of client princes and princesses was an imperial prerogative (Strabo 17.3.25= C840), Octavia may have been entrusted with assessing

45 Agrippa’s previous wife was Caecilia Attica. Vipsania, the future wife of Tiberius, was the daughter of

Caecilia and Agrippa: Valentini (2016) 243.

46 Valentini (2016) 244.

47 Crinagoras went on to celebrate her first pregnancy (Anth. Pal. 6.244), though that child did not survive.

48 Kokkinos (2002) 10-11.

49 On this marriage and its date: Roller (2003) 85-89.

50 Accepted by Harders, who discerns the emperor’s avuncular persona: (2009) 231-232.

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compatibility, facilitating organisation, and even individual decisions. Augustus and his sister had complementary roles of some importance under the imperial system which amalgamated domestic and public roles (Suet. Aug.48.1).

Traditional patronage

The story of Octavia’s reaction to Vergil’s reading of the Aeneid (Serv. Ad Aen. 6.861) illustrates her literary interests, and her patronage of scholars. This appears to represent continuity with example of Cornelia. Livia’s more political and philosophical interests can be emphasised.51 In addition, Donatus mentions that Octavia rewarded Vergil substantially

(Don. Verg. Ecl. 32). Vergil links her to Maecenas and his circle (Prop. 3.18; Verg. Aen.

6.860-886; Prisc. 10.47). Octavia’s portrayal as model matrona has overshadowed her intellectual capabilities. The education of her progeny gave her contact with scholars at the imperial court from all over the empire; this follows the earlier example of Cornelia.

Controversial roles

Background to the Tarentum agreement: Misenum

The Brundisium agreement staved off conflict between Antony and Octavian. Octavia’s marriage started at Antony’s house at Rome, the domus rostrata seized from Pompey the

Great.52 Tensions continued as Pompey was still disrupting the city’s food supply (Plut. Ant.

32.1). Pompey’s cooperation became essential, and was brokered at Misenum in early 39 BC as a result of intervention by Mucia (mother of Sextus) and Julia, Antony’s mother (Vell.

2.77.2-3; App. BC 5.73; Dio 48.36.1-5).53 Julia was both Antony’s mother and a relative of

51 Valentini (2016) 245.

52 See LTUR s.v. Domus M. Antonius; Welch (2012) 245.

53 Welch (2012) 238 suggests March or April 39 BC.

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Octavian. Their intercession shows the growing role of elite women in Roman diplomacy brought on by the fragmentation of power under the triumvirate. Terms included an amnesty for the majority of those banished, and a right to a quarter of their confiscated property. To consolidate the alliance, Octavian married Scribonia.54 Scribonia’s brother, Libo, Pompey’s father-in-law, set up her union, to bind the Pompeian faction to the triumvirs.55 The marriage lasted long enough for Scribonia to produce a daughter, Julia, but Scribonia’s reputation did not survive her divorce, whereas Octavia’s reputation remained important to the domus

Augusta even after her split from Antony.56

Octavia was also indirectly included in the new dynastic arrangements. Betrothal of

Pompey’s daughter Pompeia to Marcellus, Octavia’s three year old son and Antony’s stepson, was foreshadowed, but never realised (App. BC 5.73; Dio 48.38.3; cf. Sen Dial.

11.15.1). The match, symbolic of the concordia between Pompey, Antony and Octavian, has recently been highlighted by Welch.57 These parties still valued arranged marriages to protect worthwhile political alliances, but the political situation in those years was very fluid.

54 The sister of L. Scribonius Libo (Suet. Aug. 62.2; App. BC 5.53; Dio 48.16.3). For the discredited argument that Scribonia was in fact the daughter of Libo, based on Suet. Gramm. 19: Scheid (1975) 349-375; Wardle

(2014) 405.

55 The unions of Antony and Octavian are differentiated by the appealing personality attributed to Octavia, and the claimed disagreeable temperament of Scribonia, providing a later pretext for divorce (Suet. Aug. 62.2: morum peruersitatem. Suetonius seems to have culled this gem from Augustus’ Autobiography/Memoirs):

Wardle (2014) 407.

56 Scribonia was up to ten years older than Octavian, and, according to Dio, was abandoned on the very day of

Julia’s birth (Dio 48.34.3): Syme (1986) 247-248; Barrett (2002) 19.

57 Welch (2012) 244-245.

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After Misenum, Antony and Octavia made Athens their base for the next two years (39-37

BC). Octavia’s presence in the provinces at Athens was a new role brought on by the triumviral arrangement. Octavia received many honours at Athens in 39-38 BC;58 according to Plutarch, these inflamed Cleopatra’s jealousy (Plut. Ant. 57.1-3; cf. 33.6-34.1).59 The standing of Octavia had Hellenistic precedents, was authorised by Antony, and clearly approved by Octavian.

Appian concentrates on Antony’s Greek style of life during winter 39 BC, and his scanty attention to business. Antony is portrayed as temporarily under the spell of Octavia; on the advent of spring, he returned to preparation for the year’s military campaigning (App. BC

5.76.1). Octavia was marked out in important ways.60 Octavia’s image appeared on coinage along with that of Antony, a considerable novelty, an unprecedented public role for an elite

Roman woman.61 This prominence on aurei and sestertii soon after the dynastic union was a sign of the success of the union, and of changing social patterns, but Octavia’s role in the

East was short-lived.62

Intervention at Tarentum: 37 BC

Antony and Octavia headed for Tarentum in spring 37 BC, partly because the triumviral arrangement under the Lex Titia of 43 BC had ended in 38 BC. Plutarch is imprecise on the

58 Raubitschek (1946) 146-150.

59 Pelling notes the exclusion of Octavia from Plutarch’s initial account of these years ([1988] 208; 258).

60 Fulvia’s head had appeared on some coinage in the East, but never in conjunction with that of Antony; the most notable issues come from Eumeneia in Phrygia: RPC 3139-3140: Wood (1999) 41-44.

61 Hekster (2015) 112.

62 Crawford (1974) no. 527; 528; 533.

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reasons for Antony’s displeasure with Octavian, but reasons can be surmised.63 Tensions between Sextus Pompeius and Octavian strained the Misenum agreement; perhaps the marriage to Scribonia never changed Octavian’s view of Pompeius. Late in 39 BC Octavian pushed aside Scribonia, but the marriage of Octavia and Antony endured. Antony was supportive of Pompeius, because he assisted his mother Julia and his wife Fulvia after

Perusia, but still hesitated to grant the Peloponnese to Pompeius, causing problems for the stability of Pompeius’ power base (Plut. Ant. 32.1; App. BC 5.52; 77).

Plutarch outlines Octavia’s role at Tarentum (Plut. Ant. 35.1-4). She volunteered to negotiate for her husband, an unenviable position between the two antagonists.64 Singer claims that

Plutarch and Dio exaggerate Octavia’s role at Tarentum in 37 BC to demean Antony.65

Plutarch dramatises Octavia’s distress to emphasise Antony’s hopeless situation and absolute dependence on Octavia to placate Octavian. Plutarch may deliberately exhibit the reliance of the weak Antony on his assertive wife; she had a lot at stake (cf. App. BC 5.93-94).

She either requested the role of negotiator (Plut. Ant. 35.1), or went as negotiator (App. BC

5.93). Plutarch has her winning over Agrippa and Maecenas at the meeting, concerned that war would develop between the contestants (Plut. Ant. 35.2-3). This anxiety was said to have brought Octavian to Tarentum and could in essence be credible.

63 Pelling (1988) 213.

64 Although claimed to be pregnant at this time, her second daughter, Antonia minor, was born 31 January 36

BC at Rome (CIL 6.2028c), and Plutarch is either mistaken or refers to a child who died in infancy: Pelling

(1988) 214. Plutarch’s errors do not inspire confidence. His interest is in developing characterisation rather than chronological and factual exactitude: Kokkinos (2002) 190 n. 2.

65 Singer, (1947) 174, following Syme (1939) 225 n. 2, who believed those sources were influenced by

Augustus’ Autobiography/Memoirs.

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Similarly, Dio gives a hostile account of Antony’s actions; he needed troops for his campaign in Parthia, but insincerely offered to support Octavian against Pompeius. A token exchange was agreed. After presenting mutual grievances through intermediaries, and then in person, agreement was reached through the intervention of Octavia. There is no detail.66

Appian emphasises Octavian’s complaints against Antony, and Octavia’s replies. Octavian complained that Antony had not helped him against Pompeius. Each claim resulted in a clear counterclaim by Octavia, who said Antony had already covered the issues with Maecenas.

Appian’s version promotes the idea that Antony maintained a cohesive position on contentious issues (App. BC 5.93.1). Antony and Octavian are credited with different military priorities. Octavian wanted to proceed against Pompeius after adequate preparations, while

Antony had brought his three hundred ships from Athens. When Octavian prevaricated,

Antony unsurprisingly was annoyed by the expense of keeping up his fleet, and his unfulfilled expectation that Octavian would supply him with troops for his Parthian war.67

Octavia is represented as supportive of her husband against Octavian’s hostility, while

Octavian appears difficult. Octavia’s role is controversial because of the potential for further civil war, but her role as intermediary seems to have been accepted by the parties.

Octavia’s role at Tarentum followed the pattern of the intervention of Julia and Mucia at

Misenum. What is unusual is their active involvement in negotiations, rather than at arm’s length. This would at one stage have been perceived as transgressive behaviour, but under the circumstances was sanctioned by the parties. It can be seen that the triumviral period and civil

66 Further betrothals consolidated the treaty. Julia was paired with Antyllus, while Antony betrothed Antonia maior to Domitius (Dio 48.54.1): Treggiari (1991) 153.

67 The Callias episode shows that Octavian was suspicious of the motives of Lepidus and Antony, a sign of the weakness of Octavian’s position at this juncture: Weigall (1992) 86.

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war conditions were transforming controversial and transgressive roles for women into ordinary interventions.

After Tarentum: Octavia’s role in the contest with Antony

Later in 37 BC, Antony returned Octavia from Corcyra to the house in Rome (Dio 48.54.5-6:

37 BC; Plut. Ant. 36; App. BC 5.95). His pretext was to protect her and the children from the danger of the Parthian war. Antony is unlikely to have intended to end their relationship at this stage;68 Octavia gave birth to Antonia minor on 31 January 36 BC (CIL 6.2028c).

Octavian meantime received one hundred galleys under three Antonian captains, who appear on coins celebrating the Tarentum agreement. On the obverse are portraits of Antony,

Octavia and Octavian, underlining the centrality of Octavia’s role at Tarentum (Plut. Ant.

35.7).69 These coins are tokens publicising the approval by both triumvirs of Octavia’s unusual intervention at Tarentum. Antony’s fleet was eventually returned to him late in 36

BC, including replacements for depletions (Dio 49.14.6; App. BC 5.139).

In 35 BC, after the Parthian defeat, Octavia took money and troops to Greece for her husband.70 This role with the funds is certainly extraordinary, and could be seen as breaking traditional rules, but the two triumvirs did authorise it. In a sense, Octavia made a ‘patriarchal bargain’ to ateempt to stabilise relations between the two triumvirs. The untraditional constitutional arrangements created a new role for Roman women. Antony took the aid, but

68 Carter (1970) 144.

69 Fischer (1999) 97; BMCRR 2.510; Wood (1999) 44; 50.

70 It is disputed whether Octavia may have wintered in Athens in 36/35 BC: Flory (1993) 294. Pelling has

Octavia still there in summer 35 BC, and thinks Octavian exploited her plight through the awards to Octavia and

Livia in the winter 35/34 BC: (1988) 248.

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sent Octavia away unseen (Dio 49.33.4). Dio is brief on Octavia’s visit to Athens in 35 BC, emphasising Antony’s boorish behaviour (Dio 49.33.1).71 Sources add that the episode was used by Octavian politically. In Plutarch, the contrast between the behaviour of Octavia and

Cleopatra is carefully drawn, and dramatized (Plut. Ant. 53.1-6). Plutarch’s Octavian stage- managed his sister’s rejection by Antony, and Plutarch overdraws the competition between

Octavia and Cleopatra. Antony’s presence with Cleopatra as he prepared for his Armenian and Parthian campaign is far from certain.72 Octavian’s priority is his dispute with Antony.

Plutarch presents Octavia’s desire to return to Antony in the East as the act of a faithful wife, who reactivated the support of her brother, and thereby secured required military resources

His version does not suggest her guile or activity consciously in her brother’s interest.

Nevertheless, Octavia’s reported behaviour is consistent with Plutarch’s report that she succeeded in serving Octavian’s goals.

On return from Athens, Octavia stayed in Antony’s house in Rome until she was expelled in

32 BC. Plutarch alone mentions pressure from Octavian for Octavia to divorce Antony. He contrasts the extravagance and decadence of Antony and Cleopatra with Octavia’s forgiving behaviour as a model matrona, and her selfless assumption of the role of ever-faithful wife.

Octavia’s behaviour might have been encouraged by her brother to maximise damage to

Antony’s cause. Traces of Octavian’s propaganda in 35/34 BC concerning the treatment of

71 Contrast Plut. Ant. 35.2, cited above, where Antony told her to stay at Athens: Pelling (1996) 39. These are not necessarily contradictory approaches.

72 Pelling (1988) 243.

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Octavia and the donations of Alexandria dominate this passage (Plut. Ant. 54.1-6 [the faultless Octavia]; Ant. 57 [the expulsion of Octavia]).73

The extraordinary rights and privileges granted to Octavia and Livia in 35 BC marked out their purity and distinction, and make sense in the contest with the shameless Cleopatra.74

Here we have an example of a significant social change activated in the interests of Octavian, rather than either of the women. They were granted the right to statues, control of their own financial affairs without the oversight of a guardian, and the equivalent of tribunician sacrosanctitas (Dio 49.38.1).75 This highly politicised move was designed by Octavian to embarrass Antony, and to promote a new model of elite behaviour, but nothing is known of the reception of the measures at Rome or by Antony.

34 BC saw the capture of the Armenian king, Artavasdes by Antony, and his transportation to

Alexandria.76 At Rome, celebrations at Alexandria were reported as part of Antony’s plans for the Hellenisation of the empire, and the prominence of Cleopatra and her children played into Octavian’s hands. He publicised the slight to Octavia. Octavia remained in Antony’s house in Rome despite clear indications of marital breakdown, and her motives come into question. She was either tenaciously loyal to her husband, or actively supporting her brother’s smear campaign.

73 Scott (1933) 36-38.

74 Pelling (1996) 42; Wood (1999) 28.

75 On statues: Flory (1993) 292-293; despite this entitlement, only 2 out of 130 surviving imperial statue groups may have included portraits of Octavia: Rose (1997) 120-121; 128-129; Wood (1999) 28; Boatwright (2011)

124. On tribunician sacrosanctity: Scardigli (1982) 61-64.

76 For Antony’s objectives in Armenia: Patterson (2015) 77-105 – denying that Antony intended to make

Armenia a Roman province under direct rule.

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The divorce and eviction of Octavia from Antony’s house in 32 BC are seen as Antony’s reaction to slights felt by Cleopatra (Plut. Ant. 57). Plutarch claims that Cleopatra extorted honours from the Athenians because of jealousy over the attention paid to Octavia; he contrasts the behaviour of the two women and foreshadows imminent tragedy. 77 Antony sent

Octavia a bill of divorce in 32 BC (Livy Per. 132; Dio 50.3; Eutrop. 7.6; Orosius 6.19.4), a prelude to the Actian war, as Octavian seized Antony’s will and capitalised on the threat of the orient.78

Transgressive roles

At Tarentum, her role as mediator goes far beyond the unofficial communication of sensitive information between elite wives, but the troubled triumviral context modified behaviour; it was authorised as essential by all concerned, and its success justified its use.

Octavia’s role in the city broke new ground, and is here classed as transgressive, as it would have seemed to previous generations. It must be emphasised, however, that it was authorised by her brother and can be seen as an important facet of the revolutionary transformation which had occurred within Roman society.

Role as intermediary during the proscriptions

An anecdote in Dio publicises a story about Octavian’s clementia and Octavia’s influence over her brother in 43 BC (Dio 47.7.4-5). 79 The proscribed Titus Vinius had been concealed

77 Roller (2010) 135.

78For the divorce and the impact on Octavia: Dixon (1988) 224. On the will: Johnson (1978) 494-503, arguing for the authenticity of the document, despite Crook (1957) 36-38.

79 Octavia is unnamed in other references to the same incident: Suet. Aug. 27.2; App. BC 4.44: Hinard (1985)

548-549. Dio claims that Octavian had a lesser role in the proscriptions than Antony and Lepidus (Dio 47.7.1f.).

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in a chest by his wife, Tanusia, at the house of a freedman, Philopoemen. Octavia informed

Octavian, but not the other triumvirs. In a magnanimous display of Octavian’s clemency, all parties were pardoned, and Philopoemen was made a knight for service to his patron.

Octavia’s capacity to facilitate Tanusia’s access to a major political player was thus publicised. This role is transgressive since it prioritises Tanusia’s interest in family over state interests, and Tanusia uses an individual petition to Octavia to override the implementation of the Lex Pedia.

Octavia also supported the fourteen hundred wealthy women targeted by the triumvirs to raise funds for the Philippi campaign. This incident seems to involve transgressive lobbying despite the partially successful intervention of Hortensia. Hostile reports claim that Fulvia received the women churlishly, while Octavia, and Antony’s mother, Julia, behaved more graciously (App. BC 4.32). The role of Octavia and Julia – as relatives of Octavian – is contrasted with that of Fulvia. Fulvia’s intransigence introduced a key role for Hortensia, who delivered a speech admired by Quintilian (Quint. Inst. 1.1.6); a version is relayed by

Appian.80 She was, in effect, resurrecting ‘the craft of her father’ (Val. Max. 8.3.3). The triumvirs reduced the list to four hundred women, and included males owning more than

100,000 denarii (App. BC 4.34).81 Appian reports that Hortensia annoyed the triumvirs, who did not want women of rank to petition and question Roman magistrates, but instead to employ Octavia or Julia as intermediaries. The reduction of the list to four hundred and the

80 Hopwood (2015) 305-322, argues that the speech picked up the main thrust of the triumviral proscription edict. Hortensia gave a reasoned argument against women contributing to a civil war, on the basis of their political impotence. Moreover, women did not acquire renown from waging war, and therefore should be exempted from its burdens. Foreign wars could be justified, and a war for the good of the state might be supported by her constituency, but the present factional fight did not fit these requirements.

81 Osgood expresses some scepticism about the report: (2006b) 540-542.

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extension of the levy to include moderately wealthy males shows the efficacy of elite lobbying by the transgressive women.

Octavia, the city, and patronage

At the beginning of the imperial age, the patronage of communities and the sponsoring of public buildings by elite women and other members of the imperial family underwent growth.

Women had not sponsored major buildings at Rome under the Republic, but this is an aspect of the public/private divide undergoing transformation under Augustus as new levels of participation were authorised. The undervalued patronage of imperial women has been acknowledged by recent studies.82 Bielman’s study provides an overview of women as public patrons in the Hellenistic world, Rome, and elsewhere within the Roman empire.83

Strabo, from Pontic Amaseia, describes Rome admiringly, and its relatively recent beautification (Strabo 5.3.7-8=C234-C236).84 Octavia is credited with embellishing Rome.85

His description postdates AD 14 since he refers to the tomb of the princeps within the

Mausoleum. Strabo admires contemporary Roman engineering skill, and contrasts different strengths in Greek cities. The human element (pronoia) is promoted as a crucial addition to the natural advantages of the site (phusis).86 He mentions that elite men and women close to the princeps acted as patrons and exemplars providing benefits to the city, not an emphasis found in Roman writers. As an easterner, Strabo was familiar with public patronage by elite

82 Kleiner (1996) 40; Woodhull (2003) 13. General observations on female patronage: Woodhull (2004) 75-91.

83 Bielman (2012) 238-248.

84 Strabo’s life and career: Dueck (2000); on the controversial date of the Geography: Lindsay (1997) 484-507;

Roller (2014) 14.

85 Strabo also emphasises Agrippa’s efforts in the Campus Martius and gives special prominence to work on the water supply and sewers of Rome. For Agrippa’s role and activity: Shipley (1933).

86 On Strabo’s interest in urbanisation, specifically Greek: Pédech (1981) 234-253; Thompson (1979) 213-230.

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women in the Hellenistic world, and does not consider this transgressive. Strabo does not itemise Octavia’s contributions to the city, but the porticus Octaviae suggests Octavia’s high standing. Such a project could celebrate the nominee’s prestige, acknowledged by another, or directly acknowledge Octavia’s role in patronage.87

The Theatre of Marcellus and the role of Marcellus and Octavia as patrons

Marcellus, as part of the traditional Republican role of aedile in 23 BC, sponsored the porticus Octaviae and the theatre (cf. Livy 35.10.12; 41.27.8). Octavia continued her son’s role in enhancing the city after his death, a radical Augustan innovation, since women had never been granted anything comparable in the Republic. The theatre, named for Marcellus, was in partial use by 17 BC. The dedication took place in 13 BC (Dio 54.26.1), or possibly even 11 BC (Plin. NH 8.65).88 On the death of Marcellus, Augustus decorated the theatre with honorific trappings at the time of the Ludi Romani (Dio 53.30.6). The emphasis is on the imperial family as sponsors and ceremonial leaders at major public events – deceased family members were eminently suitable.

The importance of the porticus Octaviae

In the Republic, public buildings, including both porticoes and temples were built by successful generals from military spoils, to celebrate the military and political reputations of outstanding elite families. Dedication of monuments by women rather than military men represented a considerable reorientation, and perhaps were even perceived as an attack on

87 Her children are epigraphically attested as patrons of other communities. Marcellus was a patron at Pompeii

(CIL 10.832: M. Claudio C.f. Marcello patrono), while Marcella minor was honoured at Miletus in 21/20 BC, or

20/19 BC (Milet, 1, 7, 325, 254).

88 Richardson (1992) s.v. Theatrum Marcelli.

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Senatorial prestige.89 The buildings named after the imperial women consolidated the dynasty and emphasised corporate benefactions from the domus Augusta. The porticus Octaviae was now focused on these new priorities and popular access to art and culture, sponsored by the imperial family.90

Existing works in the area were re-contextualised. The Circus Flaminius had a connection with Roman imperial expansion, and the history of conquest. The temple of Juno, vowed by

M. Aemilius Regulus before his final battle with the Ligurians in 187 BC, and then dedicated during his censorship in 179 BC (Livy 39.2.11), predated the porticus Octaviae.91 The porticus Octaviae, originally called the porticus Metelli, erected after 147 BC, had been initiated by Q. Caecilius Metellus Macedonicus to surround two temples.92 It was closely associated with manubiae from the 3rd Macedonian war. The main authority for the porticus

Metelli is Velleius, who alludes to a second marble temple of Jupiter Stator within this porticus(1.11.3).93 A collection of 26 statues by Lysippus (including Alexander himself), on a unified base, part of a biographical series beginning from Alexander’s boyhood, was brought back to Rome by Macedonicus (Plin. NH 34.63-64).94 Coarelli estimates that the group occupied a frontage of not less than 40 metres; the space immediately in front of the temples

89 Woodhull (2012) 228.

90 Severy (2003) 214-218 places first use of the term domus Augusta late in the reign of Augustus.

91 For various complications: Richardson (1976) 60.

92 Boyd (1953) 152-159; Richardson (1976) 57-64; Lauter (1980-81) 37-46; Viscogliosi in E.M. Steinby (ed.)

LTUR (1999-2003) s.v. porticus Metelli; porticus Ocatviae.

93 Gwyn Morgan suggests a date of dedication close to 143 BC: (1971) 499.

94 Representing the 25 officers who fell at the Granicus (Arrian Anab. 1.16.4-5). Arrian mistakenly locates these statues in his own time at Dium (Dion), the sacred city of the Macedonians, from where Macedonicus took them as booty around three hundred years earlier. Arrian appears not to have been to Rome when he penned this passage: Bosworth (1980) 126.

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was occupied by two altars approximately 4 x 4 m, as is evident from surviving fragments of the Severan Marble Plan, a later evolution of the complex; after the fire in AD 191, reconstruction was not completed until AD 203 (CIL 6.1034). Since these altars in turn were located some 6 m in front of the temples, he locates the group of statues approximately 11 m from the façade of the temples, a tremendous celebration of the overwhelming power of

Rome over the Greek world. 95

1. R. Lanciani, Forma Urbis Romae, Rome 1990 [1901], plates 21 & 28 combined

95 Coarelli (1997) 532.

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2. Reproduction of Plate XXIX from Carettoni, Gianfilippo; Colini, Antonio; Cozza, Lucos; and Gatti,

Guglielmo, eds. La pianta marmorea di Roma antica. Forma urbis Romae (Rome 1960).

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3. Piranesi, Le Antichità romane, IV, 39

Octavia’s relationship to the portico differed from that of Macedonicus. The portico continued to house the manubial temples of Jupiter Stator and Juno.96 Octavia reorganised the main structures, including an art collection, libraries, and the provision of space for meetings of the Senate. Octavia’s role in these buildings has been challenged despite its direct attribution by Festus (178).97 Octavia’s role was part of Octavian’s larger plan for the Circus

96 The temples were however rebuilt; according to Pliny two Spartan architects named Saura and Batrachos were entrusted with the job (NH 36.42). This story has not been believed because of suspicions about the authenticity of their names: Coarelli, (1978) 13-28 = (1996) 280-299 at 290-291; (1997) 533.

97 The porticus Octaviae, adjacent to the theatre of Marcellus, was assigned to Octavia’s patronage, and is recorded on the Severan Forma Urbis, it is inscribed as the porti]cus Octaviae et fili[i. Livy dealt with the monuments created by Marcellus and Octavia in his Augustan books, and Livy’s Periochae, when mentioning the death of Octavia, allows both Marcellus and Octavia significant roles in their construction. Although the text

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Flaminius, and its denomination underlines her input and status. Suetonius has contributed significantly to the view that Augustus built both the porticus Octaviae and the theatre of

Marcellus, but he minimises contributions by others to Augustan buildings (Suet. Aug.

29.4).98

Dio’s account appears to identify the porticus Octaviae with the earlier building, the porticus

Octavia, built by Cn. Octavius between 167-163 BC (Dio 49.43.8).99 Cn. Octavius was praetor in 168 BC and triumphed over Perseus in 167 BC. He constructed a porticus duplex in the Circus Flaminius, known as the Corinthian portico because of its bronze capitals (Vell.

2.1.2).100 Coarelli thinks that Dio refers to the porticus Octaviae, familiar to Dio after rededication in the first years of the 3rd century (CIL 6.1034: AD 203).101 However, Dio may

is a product of abbreviation, Livy appreciates public buildings as markers of prominent status in the public eye

(Per. 140.2).

98 Wardle (2014) 231 on motives.

99 Pliny gives more particulars about the porticus Octavia while discussing bronze ornamentation, particularly

Corinthian bronze (Plin. NH 34.13). Pliny’s words may imply that the portico (the porticus Octavia) was not extant in Pliny’s time, or that the bronze capitals had not featured in the renovation in the age of Augustus: Jex-

Blake & Sellers, (1896 [1967]) 11.

100 The triumph over Perseus was in 167 BC. Octavius was assassinated in Macedonia in 163-162 BC.

Interpretation of the phrase porticus duplex: Coulton (1971) 183-184; Vitruv. 5.9.2. It is likely that Octavius acquired his bronze Corinthian columns during the campaigns in Greece. The porticus Octavia was restored by

Augustus in 33 BC, with booty from his conquest of Dalmatia, including the eagles of Gabinius, won back from the Dalmatians, and deposited in porticus Octavia: App. Illyr. 28. Augustus later boasted that he allowed this portico to retain the name of its original builder (RG 19.1) – an empty and self-serving claim, as Cooley points out, since the emperor’s own father enjoyed the same nomen: (2009) 187.

101 Dio refers to the porticoes and libraries which were associated with Octavia’s building (Dio 49.43.8):

Coarelli (1996) 284; Stamper (2005) 121; cf. Valentini (2016) 249-250.

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be confused, perhaps because the porticus Octavia no longer existed in Severan Rome.102 33

BC may be too early for the work on the porticus Octaviae. Both the portico and the theatre were projects brought to realisation by 13 BC. After completion, Octavia was praised by

Ovid for supplementing her son’s efforts, thus flattering members of the domus Augusta for their significant patronage of major projects, and endorsing the new role for women.103 This new role for women is thus highly ambiguous since it was both transgressive and quickly assimilated to the new imperial arrangements.

The renovation of the two temples in the porticus Octaviae: Juno Regina and Jupiter Stator104

Remains of the two temples have been identified in modern excavations within the porticus as restored under the Severans after the fire in AD 191. 105 The aim here is to establish changes encompassed by Octavia’s renovations and how they transformed its usage. The

Severan marble plan reveals details of the Augustan structures, and suggests that the format of the temple of Jupiter was little changed from Vitruvius’s report of the structure in the

102 On Coarelli’s interpretation, the porticus Octaviae was Octavia’s project from the beginning, not an afterthought passed on by Octavian after the death of her son. In contrast to Stamper (2005) 121, who thought

Marcellus was already honoured with the commission in 33 BC, aged 9. Richardson thought that the portico completed work begun when Marcellus was aedile, but curtailed by his death: (1992) s.v. Porticus Octaviae.

103 Ovid Ars Am. 1.69-70: aut ubi muneribus nati sua munera mater/ addidit, externo marmore dives opus. or when a mother added her gifts to those of her son/a costly work of foreign marble.

104 On these temples: Stamper (2005) 53-55.

105 Viscogliosi s.v. ‘Iuno Regina aedes in Campo, ad Circum Flaminium’ in LTUR 3 (1996) 126; Gorrie (2007)

13.

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porticus Metelli, already totally Greek in design, a work entrusted to Hermodorus of Salamis

(De Architectura 3.2.5).106 The Marble plan shows no rear colonnade, probably demolished during renovations, when this area was developed to house the curia.107

Pliny recorded the internal decoration of the two temples before the major fire in AD 80, and it may have remained stable between the date of the porticus Metelli and the porticus

Octaviae. Some 4th century works are named by Pliny, but the original temples may have been well endowed with later Hellenistic art, supplemented by Octavia with some new pieces

(Plin. NH 36.24; 35).108 The existing decoration could be promoted as continuity with past achievements. The conquest of Greece had special importance in the Augustan period.

Innovation within these temples was not Octavia’s main contribution, which was reserved for her library and the curia.

Octavia’s library

Within the porticus Octaviae, Octavia dedicated a library in memory of Marcellus (Plut.

Marcell. 30.6).109 Public libraries were a novelty in Augustan Rome, but not in the Hellenistic

106 Hermodorus was perhaps the same man named by Cicero as a constructor of dockyards: Cic. De Oratore

1.62. Vitruvius discusses the standard design of peripteral temples, a temple with columns on all four sides

(6x11), and mentions in particular the temple of Jupiter.

107 Gros (1973) 137-161.

108 The statue of Asklepios may be that referred to by Herondas (IV.20ff.): Jex-Blake and Sellers (1896)

196.Pliny names Timarchides and his two sons, Polycles and Dionysius. Timarchides was already active in about 180 BC, while the two sons could have been employed by Metellus Macedonicus after 147 BC On

Timarchides: Jex-Blake and Sellers (1896) 207; for Polycles and his pedigree: Coarelli (1996) 258-279 with further bibliography.

109 Woodhull (2012) 225-230.

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world.110 Heslin has recently suggested that the project was part of a grander scheme; other family members also supplied Rome with Hellenistic cultural attributes comparable to those in Pergamon and Alexandria. The wider range of patrons at Rome differentiated the political situation from Ptolemaic despotism, but also marked the imposition of imperialism. Next door to Octavia’s portico was the porticus Philippi (uncle and stepbrother of Augustus: married to Atia minor), which included a temple of Hercules of the Muses – with a function close to that of the Alexandrian Museum.111

The dedication of the library to Marcellus helps to date some of the building in the portico.

Octavia’s library must have been completed after Marcellus’ death in 23 BC. 112 By then,

Augustus had his own library in the temple of Apollo on the Palatine. Octavia’s interest in libraries could have originated in the 30s when she was still married to Antony, under

110 Dix (1994) 282-296 – dealing with questions of access to library collections. Asinius Pollio opened the first public library in the Atrium Libertatis after 39 BC, funded by spoils of war (Plin. NH 7.115; 35.10). Houston dates it later, perhaps 28 BC: (2008) 248. For 39 BC: Heslin (2015) 208. The library celebrated the great scholar

Varro who had gathered an enormous Greek and Latin library, but was interrupted by Caesar’s assassination.

For the bust of Varro: Plin. NH 7.115; Horsfall (1993) 59. Varro – who lived until 27 BC - and Atticus, may have assisted Augustus’ own project at the Temple of Apollo on the Palatine, set up by Pompeius Macer (Suet.

Iul 56.7), and then entrusted to the Augustan freedman, C. Iulius Hyginus (Suet. Gramm. 20.1): Houston (2002)

142; 168; 170-171; Heslin (2015) 199 for motives for associating the Augustan library with Apollo rather than the Muses.

111 Heslin (2015) 197-199; 209.

112 Dated by Houston between the death of Marcellus and that of Octavia: 23-11 BC (Houston [2008] 249). But

Heslin thinks the library might be an afterthought: (2015) 248 n. 57.

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influence from the Antonian partisan, Pollio. Like the library in the Atrium Libertatis,

Octavia’s library was divided into Greek and Latin departments.113

Treasures in the porticus Metelli/porticus Octaviae

Metellus had already housed quite a number of treasures in the portico, including the

Lysippan monument originally commissioned by Alexander the Great (Vell. 1.1.12).114 More significant to Octavia’s porticus is a seated portrait of Cornelia, mother of the Gracchi, the base of which was revealed by 19th century excavators. This can be linked to Augustan themes, and the interests of Octavia. It was found in 1878, originally located inside the surviving porch of the porticus Octaviae.115 This sculpture has proved problematic for a number of reasons; in particular, Pliny implies that the statue was originally in the porticus

Metelli (Plin. NH 34.31).116 The statue was also known to Plutarch (Plut. C. Gracch. 4.2).

The stone is a block of Pentelic marble, inscribed twice at different dates. The main inscription has been assessed as Augustan, but the stone has been reworked. Coarelli has suggested that it was simply refinished at this time, and the artist’s name, recorded above,

113 Funerary inscriptions for some of the personnel have survived: CIL 6.2347-2349; 4431-4435; 5192. The first librarian was C. Melissus, a freedman of Maecenas, who owed preferment to Augustus (Suetonius De

Grammaticis 21). Suetonius explains his presence in the porticus Octaviae through high favour with Maecenas, and his efforts to attract the emperor’s attention. Appointment to the library in porticus Octaviae was through imperial favour rather than intervention by Octavia. Perhaps the emperor and his immediate advisers settled the matter. The origin of the collection of books managed by Melissus is unknown. The library was burnt down under Titus in AD 80, and was apparently never rebuilt.

114 Pollitt (1966) 41-43.

115 Lanciani (1878) 209-218.

116 in Metelli publica portico, quae statua nunc est in Octaviae operibus; this statue was in the public portico of

Metellus, and now is within Octavia’s complex.

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was added even later, at the time of the Severan rebuilding of the porticus Octaviae:117 The main inscription is: Cornelia Africani f.

Gracchorum

The artist’s name is inscribed above: Opus Tisicratis

4. CIL 6.10043= ILS 68, in the Capitoline museum, inv. no. 6969: author’s photo. Dimensions: 80cm x

112cm x 135cm. 118

117 Coarelli (1996) 280-299 notes the taste for artists’ signatures as a Severan phenomenon. Only one other

Tisicratis of late Hellenistic date is known from a lost inscription from lake Albano (IG 14.2634). The surviving base must be old because of the use of Pentelic marble (Athenian) – not created especially for Octavia’s renovations; Octavia used Carrara marble in the restoration of the porticus Octaviae.

118 Kajava (1989) 125.

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5. Author’s photo: The original depth cannot be calculated because the stone is broken at the back

The original statue of Cornelia in bronze was similar in form to the later seated statue of

Helen, mother of Constantine, both modelled on an original by Phidias representing

Aphrodite and present in the porticus Octaviae (Plin. NH 36.15).

6. Helen, mother of Constantine: Capitoline museum, author’s photo. The dimensions of Helen are similar

to those suggested by the base of Cornelia.

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Coarelli suggests a date soon after the death of the Gracchi (thus not much after 121 BC).119

A nearby idealised Aphrodite by Phidias might suggest deliberate linking of the ideal matrona with the goddess (Plin. NH 36.15). The juxtaposition of the Phidian Aprodite and

Cornelia would however equally suit the Julio-Claudian dynasty’s claim to descent from

Venus.

Similarities between the situation of Cornelia and Octavia are notable. Both women had an unsullied reputation as perfect Roman matronae. Cornelia had only three surviving children,

Sempronia, Tiberius, and Gaius. The early death of her sons paralleled Octavia’s misfortune with Marcellus.120 The case of Cornelia’s grief was well acknowledged, and is noted in

Seneca’s Consolatio ad Marciam (16.3). Both women were prominent for their fertility, and, just as Metellus possessed a large family, and as censor in 131 BC promoted the need for large families in his speech De prole augenda, so in the Augustan age, Augustus reminded the people of Metellus’ speech when he promoted his marriage legislation with its incentives and penalties (Suet. Aug. 89.5). Octavia could proudly advertise her support for the Augustan legislation. Moreover, Augustus depended on his tribunicia potestas, and the reputation of the emperor and his family would be enhanced by association with the mother of the most famous Roman tribunes.

The statue of Cornelia itself appears to represent the model for later Roman matron figures –

119 Coarelli (1996) 280-299. A statue of Cornelia in the immediately post-Gracchan world would have been guaranteed to provoke the entire nobility. The circumstances of the Metelli between 107-100 BC have been harnessed to explain matters, when the popular tribunes Saturninus and Glaucia, began to challenge optimate supremacy. This still would leave open the question of why the statue was never shifted after the recovery of the

Metelli.

120 Parallels discussed by Petrocelli (2001) 34-65.

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itself originally based on a Phidian model. A hypothesis proposed by Lewis was that the imperial family placed several other exemplary matron figures in the porticus Octaviae.121

Dixon approves this gallery of famous mothers, and suggests that Cornelia’s statue might have been recast in the Augustan age to exploit the Roman matrona theme, and opportunely to publicise Augustan tribunicia potestas. The disputed Italia image from the Ara Pacis forms part of a similar emphasis on the maternal role.122 Perhaps Octavia’s role in restoring the temple of Juno also related to portraying the emperor’s sister as the ideal Roman matrona.123

Hemelrijk supports an Augustan date for Cornelia’s statue, noting that public statues of mortal women seem not to have been authorised until the Augustan era.124 Ruck has focussed on the Pentelic marble base of the statue of Cornelia – commonly employed in the Hellenistic world, and suggests that it originally represented a seated goddess such as Hera, Cybele, or

Demeter - an original Greek statue repurposed in the Augustan era, not a survivor from the

Gracchan or post-Gracchan era.125 In the original porticus Metelli, such a Hellenistic statue might be a piece of booty brought home by the conqueror of Macedonia. The sandals – mentioned by Pliny - are a sign that a goddess was originally portrayed, and the head will have been remodelled to portray Cornelia. This helps to explain the inscription, agreed to be

Augustan in date. The aims will have been similar to the statues of summi viri in the Forum

121 Lewis (1988) 198-200; cf. Woodhull (2003) 26.

122 Dixon (2007) 56-58.

123 Wood (1999) 34.

124 Hemelrijk (2005) 309-317.

125 Ruck (2004) 285-302; Hekster (2015) 113-115.

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Augustum.126

The imagery of the statue and its connection to the Phidian Aphrodite suited the emperor’s presentation of the imperial family and its fictitious descent. Seated statues of goddesses appear matronly, and this could have been an image that Octavia cultivated in the period after

Actium as her son came to maturity. She may have been guided by Augustus in the development of the porticus Octaviae, continuing her lifelong association with her brother’s political interests.

The curia and the schola in the porticus Octaviae

Senate meetings were held in locations apart from the Senate house in the late Republic and under Augustus.127 The Augustan transformation of the porticus Metelli into the porticus

Octaviae included a curia, attested by Pliny (NH 36.28). These changes were scheduled to suit military triumphs.128 According to Dio, after Octavia’s death, Tiberius used this space for the first Senate meeting of 7 BC, on 1 January, so he could remain outside the pomerium until the celebration of his triumph in that year, in which he also dedicated the porticus Liviae (Dio

55.8.1).129

Octavia’s new structure included several areas to display art works, and to promote the

126 Shaya (2013) 83-110 on how the statues were utilised.

127 Talbert (1984) 113-120.

128 For discussion of Josephus and the route of the triumph: Beard (2007) 92-96.

129 The porticus Octaviae was the starting point for the well-documented triumph of Vespasian and Titus in AD

71, following the marshalling of the procession in the Campus Martius. The Senate received the emperor and his son in the porticus Octaviae outside the pomerium (Jos. BJ 7.23-126). The celebration of triumphs was retained as the role of the portico expanded to promote other imperial themes. Further art works were displayed in the schola (Plin. NH 35.114; 36.22; cf. Cic. Verr. 4.2.4; 4.60.135).

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ideology of the domus Augusta. It emphasised Octavia’s role as patron and model of motherhood. The porticus Octaviae also celebrated past and present military successes, and was a crucial tool in the promotion of the entire Augustan regime.

Conclusion

Octavia started life as a member of the upwardly mobile elite who accepted implicitly the use of marriage to attain social and political advancement. After her first marriage to Claudius

Marcellus, the growing importance of her younger brother Octavian led to her remarriage to his political rival, Antony, in 40 BC. Both her existing family and her daughters by Antony and their descendants became dynastically significant during the 20s BC and beyond.

During her marriage to Antony, she developed important connections in the Eastern provinces, and for a short period, between 39-37 BC, the couple were based at Athens, and lived in the public eye. Antony used his wife to promote his interests on the coinage, continuing the role given to Fulvia. Octavia’s prominence as a patron arose at this time, and

Greek communities celebrated her eminence during her lifetime.

Her public role continued as the relationship between Antony and Octavian deteriorated.

Octavia intervened at Tarentum early in 37 BC, in a role authorised by the triumvirs. Her role as intermediary was conducted skilfully, and she contrived a compromise without serious loss of face for either party. She upheld her husband’s position, but induced Antony to supply ships for the campaign against Sextus Pompey – a truly diplomatic outcome.

Late in 37 BC, Antony returned his wife to Rome on the grounds of his Parthian war; she was soon gave birth to Antonia minor. Octavia returned to Greece in 35 BC with what would have been deemed a transgressive and military role in a previous generation – supplying money

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and troops to her husband, but was summarily sent back to Rome. This became a political issue between Antony and Octavian, and, soon after this, Livia and Octavia were granted prominent honours to emphasise the different standards of the two commanders. Octavia, apparently willingly, played the faithful wife, spurned by the selfish adulterer, Antony. The breakdown of her marriage was complete when she was divorced and evicted from Antony’s house in 32 BC, events which led to the Actian war.

After Actium, Octavia concentrated on promoting her son, with support from Octavian, whom she assisted in arranging dynastic marriages. The marriage of the children of Roman clients within the imperial palace also fell within her ambit. When her son died in 23 BC, she was devastated, but could still fall back on a significant role as a patron of individuals and the arts. She had several significant Greek intellectuals in her circle, connections first fostered during her time in Athens, and others developed in the imperial environment. The architect

Vitruvius perhaps helped her in her development of the porticus Octaviae, a radical departure from Republican practice, which had previously entrusted similar ventures to successful military commanders. Elite women had new visibility, and Octavia appears to have used her platform to publicise themes, such as motherhood, relevant to contemporary political debates, and the promotion of the domus Augusta.

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Chapter 10: Conclusion

The study began with changes occurring in the fabric of Roman society after the Punic wars with special reference to ideals of behaviour and gender roles. Paternal power continued as a theoretical check on males and females in power, but far greater independence had become possible as a result of improved financial arrangements. Relatively unfettered access to peculium had the practical effect of granting increased financial power to elite Roman women. Moreover, Cornelia’s enormous dowry hints at changes to the scale of elite life.

Despite continued surveillance of transactions, increased wealth generated by the wars of expansion appears to have relaxed conditions, and regularised the possession of extensive property portfolios by women of her status.

Nevertheless, the legal rules affecting citizenship and political participation had not undergone substantial changes. The elite still enforced a model of quietism and excluded females from activities in the forum and the Senate. Polybius in the 2nd century BC, and

Tacitus at the end of the 1st century AD, show continuity in this thinking, although Tacitus admits that the antique ideal is under threat.

The traditional private and domestic concerns continued to be assigned women, but changes in the scale and function of elite housing had already had an impact on the role of women by the time of Cornelia. The public/private divide underwent a transformation. Informal public business conducted at home, different in quality from activity in the forum and the Senate, provided a mode of political interaction which suited both sexes to some degree. Individual elite women demonstrate how much influence pedigree could have on political processes.

The elite developed the habit of using their womenfolk to support social and political

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activities, and this happened with increasing frequency as a result of the growth of male

Senatorial provincial duties and especially during the civil wars of the Second Triumvirate.

The tests applied in this thesis help to pinpoint changes in the visibility and political involvement of elite women. Different insights emerge in individual cases because of the very disparate surviving evidence, often highly prejudicial to the women under review.

Cornelia has mythic status in the sources, and by the time of Cicero was considered a positive influence on the rhetorical training of her sons, a theme underwritten by references to correspondence available to both Cicero and Quintilian. She was respected as the daughter of

Africanus, and through the role of her forebears in developing the Roman empire. The tests show her contribution was to foster interest in Greek ideas in her sons, after losing her husband early. Many aspects of her life are represented as entirely traditional, but her influence on the careers of her sons was so extensive that her ambition to use them as proxies comes into question. Nevertheless, their controversial careers did not diminish her status in the age of Cicero, and she appears as a model matrona, an image reinforced by her concern for family, and still emphasised by Tacitus in the Dialogus. She attracts high status as a univira, modelling Roman ideals of matronal purity. There is little emphasis on direct attempts to cross the public/private divide, although some reports of assistance to her sons come close. If the evidence of Nepos is authentic, she put family and the welfare of the state ahead of individual political interests. Her example may have contributed to the extension of laudationes to elite women.

The extent of Cornelia’s wealth, a product of the wars of expansion, gave her independence, although nothing specific is known of Cornelia’s guardianship after her father’s death in c.

183 BC, or her husband’s death in c. 154 BC. Her substantial dowry and the scale of her life at Misenum suggest considerable freedom of manoeuvre. Cornelia generally worked within 281

the Roman ideal of excluding matronae from public roles, while still taking advantage of opportunities to extend her nurturing role beyond customary limits. She capitalised on the

Greek ambience and education fostered by her distinguished family. In her role as hostess in her villa at Misenum, she continued to foster powerful intellectual and political contacts.

Clodia’s life is principally covered by hostile sources, and the earliest material dates from 62

BC, when she was in her mid-thirties, and shortly to be a consular wife. Her traditional role as a mother is absent; snippets illuminate her relationship with her daughter when fully adult.

In 62 BC, Clodia acted traditionally as intermediary between Cicero and her husband’s brother, Nepos. Cicero later, more controversially, but clearly a strategy in widespread use, garnered information on the activities of Clodia and Clodius through the agency of Atticus, facilitated by Atticus’ neutrality. When Clodia was widowed in 59 BC she was already conspicuously supporting Clodius. Cicero disapproved of her association with Clodius’ political career, and her use of her husband to promote some of its more questionable aspects.

Clodius had quarrelled with Cicero as a result of the Bona Dea trial in 61 BC, and Cicero was forced to leave the city in 58 BC. Clodia’s close relationship with Clodius attracted allegations of incest, given traction by her sister’s alleged incest with Clodius. This vituperation signals the male view that female involvement in politics was seriously transgressive, and should be openly criticised.

In 56 BC Cicero defended Caelius against the attack instigated either by Clodia or Clodius.

Cicero avoided the political issues, and claimed Clodia had initiated the prosecution, motivated by petty private issues: attacks on her reputation were numerous and included arrogance, incest, prostitution, and poisoning. This showcases the provocative rhetoric and vituperation which women faced in Roman courts. Characters were ruthlessly attacked to invalidate their testimony. If she was indeed the Catullan Lesbia, this represents another type

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of assault on her sexual conduct. Just before the case against Caelius, she was claimed to have influenced the acquittal of a lover, Cloelius, an important member of her brother’s faction. Her later dealings with Cicero in 45 BC present a very different image - negotiations to purchase gardens from an aristocratic lady of property. The nature of the main sources hinders a realistic assessment of Clodia.

Servilia’s life was dominated by her patrician origins and established networks. Major resources for her life date from after 50 BC; when her parents died young, she grew up with

Cato and is said to have been influential with him. Her two marriages each produced offspring, who remained central to her life. The husbands chosen for her daughters followed the trend in her family of keeping relationships within the established group The protection of the interests of her daughters led her into controversial and transgressive activities after the murder of Caesar. Both Servilia and her daughters attract stories about their morality, a clear indication of their importance to high level politics. The funeral of Iunia Tertia, the widow of

Cassius, in AD 22 shows that Servilia’s daughters retained their political significance long after the death of their husbands.

Servilia’s role as Caesar’s mistress enhanced her political significance, and resulted in an unsuccessful attempt to marry Brutus to Caesar’s daughter Julia. Servilia was also able to remove Brutus from the scene at the time of the Vettian affair in 59 BC. Servilia could only do so much for Brutus, but she influenced Caesar’s decision to save him after Pharsalus.

Servilia also took controversial financial advantage when offered Pompeian estates after the war, attracting Cicero’s displeasure. Servilia enjoyed a traditional role giving advice on marriage, including assisting Cicero over Tullia’s third marriage in 51 BC. Respect for her was generated by the combination of her pedigree and presence.

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Her political orientation remains ambiguous; she had reason to dislike Pompey, and although close to Caesar, her son was Caesar’s assassin. Her main role was to protect family from the consequences of their actions. This is manifest when Servilia intervenes after the assassination of Caesar to assist Brutus, with support from other republicans. Cicero’s letters underline her importance to the negotiations, and he reports the meeting at Antium in which she declares her intention to obtain changes to the SC offering Brutus and Cassius supervision of grain supplies from Sicily and Asia as a pro-praetorian province. Although Cicero advises

Brutus and Cassius to accept, Servilia is strongly opposed to accepting the humiliating offer, and expects to able to get the SC altered. Whether or not this is realistic, she clearly believes that her networks will enable her to achieve her ends indirectly and unofficially. In the next few months, she continued to try to protect family, especially the children of Iunia and

Lepidus, after Lepidus abandoned the Republican cause and was declared a public enemy.

Further signs of her political involvement emerge from a letter to Brutus from late July 43

BC; there is talk of discussions between Cicero and Servilia over the advisability of her getting Brutus to bring an army to Italy. Servilia’s clear focus on the priority of family shows development from the time of Cornelia. Servilia is prepared to disregard the interests of the state in the interests of family, and reveals the extent of her own power during this troubled fracture of Roman politics.

Cicero and Plutarch provide the only substantial sources on Terentia and Tullia. Both women married influential men, and exemplify some of the pressures on female roles at the end of the Republic. While Terentia was sui iuris and had property of her own separate from her dowry, Tullia’s financial status as a daughter still under patria potestas is more constrained.

She still depended on her father to supply her dowry for her third marriage in 50 BC.

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By the late Republic, elite women like Terentia were expected by their husbands to have some involvement in the public domain because of the need for good and discreetly gathered intelligence about current political events. This was no longer controversial. The marriage to

Terentia cemented Cicero’s financial position, and this is an important element in the power of elite women. Terentia had power both through her dowry and particularly through non- dowry property. Terentia’s impact on Cicero’s behaviour during the Catilinarian conspiracy is rather questionable, but hostile observers in antiquity delineated an active, dominating, and clearly transgressive role. Similar stories survive of her impact on the Bona Dea trial, crediting her with masterminding the attempted entrapment of Clodius.

Terentia had a valued role as a lobbyist when Cicero went abroad in 58 BC after Clodius undermined his political position. This was delicate matter because of the extent to which

Cicero’s standing had been damaged. Terentia’s political understanding was at a high level, and she fully appreciated what was required to conciliate Pompey and Caesar. Her lobbying was ultimately successful and Cicero was able to return to Rome in September 57 BC.

Her considerable financial capacity was important when the Palatine house came under attack, but Cicero was concerned about her expenditures in his interest. It was shaming for a

Roman male to eat into his wife’s resources, whatever the circumstances. Nevertheless

Terentia and her freedman Philotimus later got some blame for his financial mess. Her power over his finances can be inferred.

Tullia’s third marriage in 51/50 BC gives insight into marital organisation. Cicero’s absence as governor of Cilicia 51/50 BC was hardly unusual in the late Republic. The marriage was largely organised by Terentia and Tullia, assisted by family and friends. Cicero was hindered in his attempt to fulfil paternal duties by the tyranny of distance. The final choice was

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Dolabella. This showed some of the rifts developing within Cicero’s family, and that Terentia and Tullia had their own reading of the political situation.

When Cicero returned from Cilicia, Terentia came to Brundisium for a political discussion about the impending war. The decision of Terentia and Tullia to stay in Rome signals their independence. Cicero persisted in his opposition to Caesar and left Italy in May 49 BC.

Tullia’s position as a filiafamilias left her far more dependent on Cicero than Terentia;

Cicero’s financial woes were potentially shaming, and resulted in Tullia obtaining financial help from Terentia. Conflicts over money and politics seem to lie behind their eventual divorce.

Cicero’s return from the civil war depended again on Terentia’s lobbying. Cicero’s property was in danger. Terentia attempted to approach Antony through his mistress Volumnia. Cicero approached Antony himself and secured permission to return, but meantime Terentia had apparently obtained the concession through Dolabella – another sign of the efficacy of her networks, but hardly pleasing to Cicero. Soon, revealing yet another sign of weakness, Cicero was forced to ask Terentia for financial support.

Terentia’s will and signs of her dissatisfaction with Cicero began to affect Tullia who clung to Cicero as her relationship with Dolabella crumbled. Tullia’s split with Dolabella was largely in Cicero’s hands and Tullia had little direct involvement. Cicero’s split with Terentia soon ensued, and the final stages of Tullia’s life followed.

Terentia’s interaction with the powerful as hostess, as witnessed by the will of Cluvius, shows that women of her standing had a political presence. Her domestic role had political and financial ramifications. She was also able to distribute patronage to lesser mortals, and this seems to be an emerging role, now accepted in the late Republic. Her literary capacities

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have often been dismissed, but this should be reconsidered. Her life after Cicero’s death in the proscription of 43 BC appears extensive, but its quality is little understood.

The conduct of Fulvia’s marriages reveals her political ambition. Her partnership with

Clodius and his circle, combined with the politics of her paternal grandfather, Fulvius

Flaccus, and her aunt Sempronia’s involvement with Catiline, set the tone for her life, and led to hostile reactions from Cicero and Octavian. After her death in 40 BC, Fulvia was a useful scapegoat, tethered by the two triumvirs to enable reconciliation.

Cicero considers her first major political act to be involvement in 57 BC in the move to dedicate Cicero’s house to libertas, supporting her husband’s attack on Cicero for executing the Catilinarian conspirators without trial. Cicero aims to indict her support for her husband because of the political focus. After the murder of Clodius in 52 BC, she built up resentment against Milo by harnessing her dead husband’s retainers to turn the funeral into a major protest. The Clodiani were willing and outraged supporters of this campaign. Cicero, who defended Milo on the murder charge, naturally classified Fulvia’s behaviour as unconscionable and transgressive conduct.

Her second marriage to Curio was brief, but showed her capacity to manipulate her husbands.

Curio had been close to joining Milo, but rapidly changed direction, drawn by Fulvia and her

Clodian supporters. On Curio’s death, Antony was encouraged by Caesar to stabilise his life by marrying Fulvia, and this marriage gave him his only male heirs (Antyllus; Iullus

Antonius).

After the death of Caesar, she was again in the public eye, and accused of interfering in diplomacy related to Deiotarus of Galatia, originally a Pompeian client, who had a chequered history with Caesar. What is at stake here is her extension of her relationship with Antony to

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include socialising on politically sensitive occasions, in this case causing considerable annoyance to Cicero, formerly Deiotarus’ patron. Although Cicero is angry at the slight to himself, it is doubtful whether anyone other than Cicero demmed Fulvia’s role transgressive.

Fulvia was however a forceful character. She was used by Antony, like Octavia and

Cleopatra later, as an extension of his public persona.

At Brundisium, when Antony went to secure the support of Caesar’s returning Macedonian legions, Fulvia was present as he dealt with the attempt of Octavian’s agents to bribe the troops. The situation again involved Fulvia’s presence in public, even though they were hosted in a private house. Antony had not matched Octavian’s offer, and Cicero claims that he ruthlessly executed centurions in the house in an attempt to force their compliance. There seems to be exaggeration in the claim that Fulvia was spattered by the blood of victims, but

Cicero again wants to emphasise her unsuitable proximity to military organisation.

When Antony was under threat of being declared a public enemy before Mutina, she had a less controversial role lobbying senators; this staved off the declaration, but only very temporarily. Her elite background ensured Atticus’ financial and practical support. At the time of the proscriptions, hostile sources set her in contrast with the more reasonable behaviour of Octavia and Julia in receiving lobbyists.

Fulvia gained an important role after Philippi as her husband’s proxy, but this led to greater assaults on her reputation. She is pictured attempting to maintain the balance of power by preventing Octavian from gaining credit through settling the veterans. The sources represent her as grasping administrative power and dominating Lucius, a picture of the dominant woman controlling the pusillanimous Lucius and a weak Senate. The picture is completed with Fulvia establishing her credentials as Antony’s proxy through Antony’s children, and forcing Octavian to accept bipartisan land commissioners. 288

It was later claimed that Fulvia and Lucius started the Perusine war because of Fulvia’s jealousy of Cleopatra. The reality was different. Fulvia’s daughter was returned by Octavian to her mother, and counter attacks were launched which suggested Octavian’s sexual inadequacy. Keeping Octavian’s increasing power in Italy in check was a substantial problem. Octavian’s propaganda responded with claims that Fulvia wanted a sexually dominant role which included usurping military power. Her relationship with Lucius may have involved disagreements over his support for the dispossessed. Fulvia had access to large

Antonian forces in the north of Italy until 40 BC, when Octavian took over Calenus’ troops.

Fulvia’s role at Praeneste before the Perusine campaign is represented as a demonstration of her military ambitions, and she certainly gained the reputation of being a force behind policy.

Her role as Antony’s proxy left her as a target for criticism. The veterans, however, sided with Octavian rather than Fulvia as matters escalated to war. Fulvia and Lucius were short of credibility with the Antonian generals, who failed to relieve Lucius Antonius at Perusia.

Octavia’s life gained new momentum at about the age of thirty through her second marriage to Antony in 40 BC, a product of her brother’s rising eminence. Octavia’s first marriage is lightly attested, but from 43 BC her close relationship with Octavian brings her into the limelight. Her nurturing role is important, but, like Cornelia, she channels a great deal of effort into educating her children and wards, and organising suitable marriages.

The marriage to Antony was brokered in her absence by leading partisans of Octavian and

Antony. At Athens between 39-37 BC, Antony promoted her role on coinage, following a model employed in his marriage with Fulvia. This was the beginning of a role for elite women similar to that in the Hellenistic world. At the end of this period, she mediated between her husband and brother at Tarentum, a complex role successfully navigated. This

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was a diplomatic role, and would previously have been considered transgressive, but on this occasion her mediation was encouraged by the parties.

Soon after this she returned to Rome to give birth to Antonia minor, while Antony went to

Parthia. She returned to Greece with money and troops in 35 BC, an important quasi-military role, a novelty, and symptom of the disturbed state of the triumviral world. Antony took the help but did not meet her. Her brother became upset with Antony, and granted her and Livia enhanced status in 35 BC as a method of escalating their contest. Her role was highly politicised as she returned to Antony’s house in Rome, and the contrast was drawn between his shabby behaviour and her exemplary handling of his affairs. The divorce from Antony in

32 BC followed, as matters between Octavian led inevitably to Actium.

After Actium, Octavia retained an exemplary role as a matrona and mother of the heir apparent, Marcellus, looking after her disgraced husband’s children and wards. Marcellus was married to Julia in 25 BC, but died within two years. Octavia was deeply affected by his death, and her role in the family diminished, but her role as patron continued, as the imperial women were employed to sponsor significant public buildings, complementing the role of their male relatives.

Social change had thus mostly occurred informally. Financial prosperity was increased greatly by the wars of expansion before and after 200 BC. At an official level elite women were still restricted to the private sphere, but informal processes greatly altered their real power. Much of this was a result of ‘patriarchal bargains’, and thus active encouragement by

Roman males. Appearances in court or on the stage were closely guarded, but women did gain a larger role in the provinces, and the male preserve of laudatio funebris had limited extension to women. The legal reforms after 200 BC all represent some level of attempt to limit increases in female visibility. The increased community wealth and wartime mortality 290

brought pressures, but could not stop more relaxed attitudes to peculium and property held by women.

The individual biographies are quite varied. Cornelia works within traditional boundaries but pushes their limits, especially in the area of education. Clodia’s life meets much hostility from Roman males because of her political interests, but was well connected and remained closely linked to family interests. There are signs that her life otherwise largely followed a traditional pathway. Servilia had two husbands and became Caesar’s mistress. Her children were all linked by marriage to powerful individuals, and Servilia repeatedly shows her ability to protect family, in some cases by transgressive actions, harnessing some of her large circle of related and influential males. Terentia and Tullia are more widely attested, but there are still large gaps. Hostile sources accuse Terentia of transgression at the time of Cicero’s consulship and immediately thereafter, but the evidence is contentious. Terentia actively engaged in lobbying on behalf of Cicero. On more than one occasion this is reported and commented on by Cicero himself, but the situation after Cicero’s departure in 58 BC was complicated, and Terentia may have had difficulty initially in getting a hearing. A similar situation existed after the war between Caesar and Pompey. Terentia’s importance as a hostess is better attested than that of the other subjects. Tullia’s main interest derives from details of the arrangements for her marriage to Dolabella. Fulvia appears as the most transgressive character in this study; her case is muted by the hostility of the sources to her after Antony and Octavian saddled her with the blame for the Perusine war. Octavia in contrast has benefited from her idealised life at the court of Augustus, and the hostile portrait of Antony.

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