[XXVI]
‘Is SHE MY WIFE?’

On 1 January 34BC Antony had become consul for the second time. It was nine years since the end of his first consulship, so this was almost the decade that law decreed should pass before holding a magistracy again. That rule had anyway been breached so many times that it was scarcely worth comment. It was far rarer for a consul not to be in Rome when he assumed office, although Marius and Caesar had both done this. More disturbing was his resignation at the end of a single day, showing the minor importance of the Republic’s supreme magistracy to a man with Antony’s power. Consuls now rarely served for the entire year, but none had chosen to resign within twenty-four hours. In spite of his absence and the extreme brevity of his tenure, the year was still officially known as the consulship of Marcus Antonius and Lucius Scribonius Libo.¹

In 39 BC Antony and Octavian had drawn up a list of consuls for the next eight years, including the suffect consuls who would replace them once they resigned. There were four such men in 34 BC, for the first pair also resigned before the year was complete. In this way more loyal followers were rewarded, receiving the dignity of consular status, the precedence this brought in senatorial debate and the prospect of a suitably important provincial command. Octavian would similarly take up and resign the consulship on 1 January 33 BC, and there were no fewer than six suffect consuls in the remainder of that year.

This figure was in turn dwarfed by the sixty-seven praetors the triumvirs had appointed in 38 BC. Their lack of respect for the traditional magistracies was blatant and yet it is equally clear that both the triumvirs and their followers still valued the prestige these posts brought. There were also numerous irregularities, ignoring age restrictions and other conventions. One praetor resigned his office in favour of his son. One quaestor was recognised as a runaway slave by his former master. Another escaped slave was discovered serving as praetor. Slaves were usually executed by crucifixion, but this terrible punishment was thought inappropriate for anyone who had served as a praetor, however illegally. Therefore the court decreed that the man should be given his freedom, and then be thrown to his death from the Tarpeian Rock. Antony and Octavian had awarded themselves a joint consulship for 31 BC. Interestingly, it was over a year after their triumviral power was supposed to lapse. Perhaps they planned that both of them would be in Rome by this time, so that their alliance could be renewed or renegotiated.²

Antony had certainly not turned his back on Rome, for all that he enjoyed the trappings of monarchy in the Greek world. He seems to have been genuinely fond of Alexandria and at some point he served as gymnasiarch there, just as he had done in Athens. Yet although he publicly acknowledged his children by Cleopatra, greater prominence was given to Marcus Antonius Antyllus, his teenage son by Fulvia. A series of silver coins was issued showing Antony on one side and the boy on the other.³

Although Octavia looked after his other Roman children, Antyllus seems to have been in the east with his father during these years. In Alexandria he enjoyed both the company of learned men and something of the lavish lifestyle of the royal court. Plutarch’s grandfather’s friend Philotas knew the boy during these years and told stories of his quick wit and generous nature. On one occasion Antyllus gave him the gold cups that they had just used for a feast – an interesting echo of Cleopatra’s visit to Tarsus. Philotas was worried that the lad might get into trouble for making such a costly gift. Yet when the servants came to present him with the vessels and get a receipt for them, they assured him that Mark Antony’s son could give away as much gold as he liked. They did replace the vessels with their value in money, since some were antiques and so might be missed by his father.⁴

Elsewhere, Plutarch tells another story of Antony’s own generosity, when he promised a man the gift of 250,000 denarii. One of his personal slaves was apparently concerned that his master did not realise how substantial a sum this was and so laid out all the coins to show their number. When informed what the money was for, Antony claimed to be shocked, since he had thought the gift was bigger, and immediately ordered the sum to be doubled.⁵

Antony’s taste for spectacular expenditure long pre-dated his years in the east, but was fully indulged while he was with Cleopatra. Grand wagers were a common feature of the royal court during these years. The most famous incident occurred some time between 34 and 32 BC, and centred on the famed luxury of the Ptolemaic court and Antony’s own obsession with expensively rare and exotic foods. The queen is supposed to have sneered at the fare he was serving and promised that on the next day she would show him a banquet costing no less than 2.5 million denarii. Yet when the meal came he was unimpressed by the food she gave her guests, for this seemed nothing unusual by their recent standards. Cleopatra – our source Pliny does not name her, but dismisses her as an ‘impertinent royal tart’-merely laughed when Antony claimed that he had won the wager. The food was a mere preliminary and she alone would consume the 2.5 million denarii feast. Enjoying his confusion, the queen ordered the final course to be served. This dessert was as lavish as the earlier courses, but she herself was given a single bowl, filled with acetum, the sour, vinegar-like wine issued to soldiers as part of their ration and usually a drink for the poor. Reaching up, Cleopatra took off one of her pearl earrings – the pair were famous for their size and quality – and dropped it into the bowl. The pearl dissolved into a slush and she drank the mixture. Lucius Munatius Plancus, who had the task of deciding who won the bet, quickly declared the queen the victor and stopped her from repeating the process with the other pearl.⁶

Pearls had become highly fashionable as jewellery at Rome in the last generation or so. In 59 BC Julius Caesar had given his mistress Servilia a pearl that cost 1.5 million denarii, and so was of similar quality to Cleopatra’s earrings. It was even rumoured that he had invaded Britain hoping to find a plentiful supply of good pearls. Nor was dissolving pearls in sour wine and drinking the mixture altogether unknown, for we hear of one wealthy young Roman doing the same, in a story spread by one of Horace’s poems. It is impossible to know whether Cleopatra was aware of this incident or came up with the idea on her own. In latter years the Emperor Caligula, a descendant of Antony, would copy the practice, a mark both of his eccentricity and extravagance.⁷

Most modern commentators have been sceptical about the possibility of dissolving a pearl in vinegar and attempts to repeat Cleopatra’s trick have invariably failed. The acid in the liquid does soften pearls and dissolve crushed pearls, but appears to take a very long time to do this. The value of such experiments is anyway limited, since we do not know the size or consistency of the pearl earrings. These may well have been smaller than modern expectation. Nor should we necessarily insist that Cleopatra’s bowl was filled only with sour wine. Other substances might accelerate the chemical reaction and the philosophers of the Museum had for generations specialised in using their knowledge to perform spectacular, apparently miraculous tricks to grace royal occasions. The pearl did not need to vanish altogether, but dissolve enough to be no longer of value and easy to both consume and keep down. Pliny does not suggest that she simply swallowed the earring to retrieve it later. The precious object had to be permanently destroyed to make the wager meaningful.⁸

Munatius Plancus is elsewhere described as one of the leading flatterers of the queen from amongst Antony’s Roman followers. He clearly felt that this would also win the triumvir’s favour. It is said that he went so far as to perform a dance during one of the feasts, acting the part of the sea god Glaucus, his naked skin painted blue and wearing a false fish’s tail. This was scarcely the behaviour expected of a former consul. A few aristocratic Roman men were known to be proud of their skill in dancing, but Cicero had probably reflected the general feeling when he said, ‘No sane man ever dances while sober.’⁹

Sobriety is unlikely to have been a conspicuous feature of Antony and Cleopatra’s intimates. Antony had always been a heavy drinker and it seems likely that this had only increased, especially after the disappointment and stress of the Parthian expedition. He may well have been an alcoholic and choosing to associate himself with Hercules and Dionysus meant revering deities famed for drink and festivities. The latter was important to the Ptolemies, and Cleopatra wore a ring carrying the inscription ‘Drunkenness’(Methe in Greek). The female attendants of Dionysus, the Maenads, were supposed to be in a permanent state of ecstatic frenzy, induced not by alcohol, but the mere presence of the god. Probably the ring celebrated this. We cannot say whether the sources accusing her of frequent inebriation were true or simply propaganda. It may well have been difficult to spend a lot of time in Antony’s company without sharing at least to some degree in his heavy drinking.¹⁰

The circle surrounding Antony and Cleopatra included performers from the Greek east. We hear of one man who seems to have specialised in erotic dances, and there was also the ‘Parasite’ mentioned earlier. Yet apart from the queen herself, only Romans were treated as close advisers by Antony, and certainly only Romans were given important commands as well as other major responsibilities. Plancus, Dellius and Canidius were just a few of the senators amongst the triumvir’s close companions and key agents.¹¹

In 2000 a papyrus that contained an ordinance passed by Cleopatra in 33 BC (or ‘Year Nineteen which is also Year Four’) was identified, prompting considerable excitement because the last word may be in the queen’s own handwriting –ginestho (‘let it be so’ in Greek). The main content received little attention outside scholarly circles, but is highly instructive:

We have granted to Publius Canidius and his heirs the annual exportation of 10,000 artabas of wheat [approximately 300 tons] and the annual importation of 5,000 Coan amphoras of wine without anyone exacting anything in taxes from him or any other expense whatsoever. We have also granted tax exemption on all the land he owns in Egypt…. Let it be written to those to whom it may concern, so that knowing it they can act accordingly.¹²

Canidius had clearly been given extensive estates by the queen and the income he gained was to be free of any royal levy. His agents were also allowed to import and sell wine within Egypt without paying any duty. Antony’s other senior followers no doubt also did well from her generosity. Cleopatra needed Roman backing and for the last few years that had meant keeping Antony’s favour. To ensure this she exploited her kingdom for the benefit of the triumvir and his henchmen. Earlier Ptolemies had been just as generous in granting land and tax-free wealth to powerful aristocrats. Now the important beneficiaries were all Roman and there is no indication that any of these men planned to settle permanently within her realm. Their families, much of their property and their ultimate political ambitions all lay in Italy. There is no good indication that Antony felt any differently. He was in the east to build wealth and power to enhance his position within the Republic.

‘WHY HAVE YOU CHANGED? ‘

The stories of the excess and debauchery of Antony and Cleopatra’s inner circle no doubt grew with the telling as they travelled to Italy. The mood in Rome was usually uneasy while waiting for powerful men to return after a long spell in the provinces. People had been very nervous awaiting Pompey’s return from his eastern campaigns and similar fears over what Caesar might do had helped to create the civil war in 49 BC. Octavian managed to visit Rome on several occasions during his Illyrian wars and had been in Italy for most of the last decade. He bore the brunt of any discontent and resentment, for instance from dispossessed Italian farmers and dissatisfied veterans, but had managed to deal with each crisis in turn. The defeat of Sextus Pompey had ended the long sequence of civil war and there was cautious optimism that this might be permanent. There was certainly no appetite amongst the wider population for a renewal of conflict. Poets like Horace and Virgil helped to express this mood, encouraged by Octavian’s close associate Maecenas.¹³

Antony gained no fresh honours from the Senate after 37 BC, but his colleague was far more visible. A year later Octavian had been awarded the same sacrosanct status given to the tribunes of the plebs. This was a high honour. In 35 BC the same status was extended to Livia and Octavia, who were also given public statues and the right to run their own affairs and finances without the need for a male guardian. These were unprecedented honours for women. This made Antony’s curt instructions for his wife to return to Italy all the more shocking and rendered her obedience and continued care for his house, children and friends especially poignant.¹⁴

Octavian and Antony competed for prestige and dominance. It was natural for Roman aristocrats to behave in this way and perhaps inevitable that, once all other rivals had gone, the two most powerful men in the state would turn against each other. By 33 BC the rivalry was becoming steadily more open, although as yet neither side launched a direct attack on the other. Instead, it was a question of contrasts. Octavian had beaten Sextus Pompey. His successes in Illyria were small scale, but genuine, unlike Antony’s failure in Media. Antony countered, mainly through his supporters in Rome, but also it seems through letters that were readily made public, and spoke of Octavian’s personal failings. At Philippi he had been ‘ill’ and absent. In the final confrontation with Sextus Pompey, the young Caesar had again been prostrate with sickness – or was it fear?

Roman political invective had always been personally abusive and often obscene. As usual there was very little attention to specific policies and the heart of the matter was character. Both men had provided their rival with plenty of good material. Yet in the main the hostile stories about Octavian concerned the past – his cruelty during the proscriptions, or his dressing as Apollo at the notorious feast. A favourite target for the unquestionably aristocratic Antony was his rival’s family and time and again the alleged obscurity and demeaning professions of his father and grandfather were hurled at Octavian. It was only at this point that Caesarion began to matter in Rome. Here was a genuine son of Caesar, and it did not matter that he was a foreigner and a bastard, for there was no attempt to make the teenager a figurehead in Roman politics. It was merely a useful – and highly embarrassing – way of reminding everyone that the ‘son of the divine Julius’ was of humble birth and only one of the Julii Caesares by adoption. Adoption was taken seriously by the Romans, but Octavian’s position was vulnerable because he had not been adopted while Caesar was alive and posthumous adoption was legally very questionable. It was probably now that Octavian commissioned one of Caesar’s close associates to write a pamphlet denying that the boy was Caesar’s child, while Antony proclaimed that the dictator had publicly acknowledged the baby.¹⁵

Although Antony lost in the long run, many stories about Octavian were set down in these years and so survived to be repeated by later authors, giving him a small posthumous victory. Years before, Cicero’s Philippics had begun the blackening of Antony’s reputation and memory, and now these slurs were reinforced. Many of the attacks were exaggerated, but there were too many truths behind them to prevent serious damage. Attacked as a drunkard, Antony responded by publishing his only known work of literature, entitled On His Drinking (de sua ebrietate). It has not survived, but presumably he denied some of the excesses, or at least maintained that alcohol had never impaired his judgement or actions. Yet the fact that he felt it necessary to defend himself against the charge at all showed that the damage had already been done. (Caesar had been laughed at for taking a public oath denying his alleged affair with King Nicomedes. People mocked the dictator whether or not they believed the story.)¹⁶

Sexual excess accompanied the stories of Antony’s alcoholic excess. Too much of either was seen as weakness, betraying the stern virtus expected of a Roman senator. Praise of Octavia for her virtue, and also her beauty, highlighted her husband’s mistreatment of her. Yet the affair with Cleopatra was far too public to deny and so instead, Antony tried to pass it off lightly, writing an open letter to Octavian. The style was blunt, deliberately crude and overtly manly:

Why have you changed? Is it because I’m screwing the queen? Is she my wife? Have I just started this or has it been going on for nine years? How about you — is it only [Livia] Drusilla you screw? Congratulations, if when you read this letter you have not been inside Tertulla or Terentilla, Rufilla or Salvia Titiseniam, or all of them. Does it really matter where or in whom you dip your wick?¹⁷

‘Is she my wife?’ — the Latin uxor mea est could equally be the statement, ‘She is my wife.’ Only the context as part of a series of quick-fire questions suggests that it is not only a question, but that the implicit answer is also: ‘No, she is not.’ Yet Antony did not deny the affair, and indeed stressed that it had already lasted for nine years. His position was weak from the start, for the best he could hope for was the belief that Octavian’s behaviour was no better than his own. Octavian might be an enthusiastic adulterer, but he had no single mistress and at least his lovers were Roman. Antony circulated other stories, of how the young Caesar’s friends hunted out women for him, even stripping respectable girls and married women for inspection as if they were slaves. It was even claimed that at one dinner he had taken a senator’s wife into another room and when they rejoined her husband and the rest of the company, she was blushing and looking dishevelled.¹⁸

This was certainly not respectable behaviour for a Roman, although the cuckolding of other senators did match the exploits of Caesar. In addition, Octavian was still an adolescent, while Antony was in his fifties, by which time a man was expected to behave with more decorum. Taking many lovers was bad, but it was worse for a Roman man to have one mistress, worse still to appear to be dominated by her and unforgivable that she was foreign and royal. This was the most damning charge, that Antony had become so unmanned by his passion for Cleopatra that he obeyed her and made decisions on major issues according to her whims. The grants of land, the allegations of delaying the Parthian War to stay with her and, most of all, the Donations of Alexandria suggested an Antony manipulated by his lover to the point where he was no longer acting in the best interests of the Republic. Even his own propaganda could be turned against him. Hercules, too, had been brought low by a woman, when Omphale made him wear a dress and perform household tasks such as spinning. It is unlikely to be coincidental that depictions of this story appear in the art of the period.¹⁹

Octavian was in Rome, in a city enjoying peace and the visible signs of rebuilding and physical renewal, much of it undertaken by him or his close associates. He was far better placed to influence public opinion. Senators were one audience, but so were the local aristocracies of the towns and cities of Italy. It was difficult for a distant Antony to compete, especially since his achievements in the east were so limited. He does seem to have administered the region reasonably well, but such things were rarely a great source of popularity with a Roman audience. In the long run he could not hide the scale of the disaster in Media — especially when Octavian and his allies no longer helped to suppress the news — or the meagreness of his subsequent successes.

In the spring of 33 BC, Antony had concentrated the bulk of his legions on the Euphrates, ready for a fresh intervention in the affairs of Parthia and its neighbouring kingdoms. After some minor operations, he changed his mind. Once again, his eye was on Italy and the struggle with Parthia would take second place to defending his position in Rome itself. Canidius was ordered to march the army over 1,000 miles to the Ionian coast of Asia Minor, ready to cross the sea to Greece. There was no external threat to that region requiring such a large concentration of troops. Unless he was planning to return at last to Italy, bringing with him his soldiers, perhaps to march in a triumph, or at least to be discharged and given land, then this move can only be seen as a threat to Octavian. Antony did complain that Octavian was not providing sufficient land for his veterans and it may be that he had future distributions in mind. His colleague sent the ironic reply that surely he could give them land from his eastern ‘conquests’.²⁰

At the very least, Antony escalated the conflict by transferring his legions westwards. The timing of this move is all too readily forgotten since it is easier to trace the build-up of Octavian’s propaganda towards the eventual war. Neither man seems to have been very reluctant to fight, but the wider population hated the thought of a renewal of civil war, so both were eager to let the other provoke the conflict. The triumvirate lapsed on 31 December 33 BC. Antony ignored this and continued to use the title. Octavian pretended to retire into private life. Both kept control of their armies and provinces.²¹

On 1 January 32 BC, Domitius Ahenobarbus became consul with Caius Sosius as colleague. Both men were supporters of Antony, a coincidence that may not have been significant when the triumvirs had nominated consuls back in 39 BC. The consuls took precedence in alternate months and Ahenobarbus began the year, presiding over meetings of the Senate. Antony had sent them an account of his reorganisation of the eastern provinces, which included the grants of land to Cleopatra and her children. He wanted the Senate’s endorsement, even though his powers as triumvir already conferred legality on his actions. Ahenobarbus thought the document too inflammatory, with its formal statement of the Donations, and so suppressed it.

In February, Sosius took over and immediately launched a direct attack on Octavian. The measures he proposed were vetoed by a tribune before a vote could be taken. It was an interesting survival of earlier politics, although it is unclear who inspired the veto. Sosius may have felt that simply making the statements was enough to damage Octavian. On the other hand, the latter may have been genuinely worried. Even if the measures were not passed, and it was unlikely that they would be, it was a considerable blow to his prestige and auctoritas to have them mentioned in the first place.²²

The ‘retired’ triumvir was not present, but he summoned the Senate to another meeting, although legally he no longer had the power to do this. Octavian arrived, escorted by soldiers and guarded by friends whose ‘concealed’ daggers were visible. He took his seat between the two consuls, thus marking his superiority, and proceeded to defend himself. Ahenobarbus and Sosius fled from Rome after this meeting, going straight to Antony, who by this time was again in Athens. By letter, and the voices of a few adherents, he was able to continue the battle of accusations with Octavian. Apart from the personal denigration, he returned to familiar complaints. Octavian was blamed for both deposing Lepidus and then taking all of the latter’s troops and territory under his own control. His failure to deliver the promised soldiers was another charge. Octavian countered by saying that Antony had not shared the spoils of his own victories, but the main attack remained personal. The Roman commander had been corrupted by Cleopatra – there were even stories that she used magic potions to enslave him.²³

Munatius Plancus chose this moment to defect from Antony and join Octavian. He was an ex-consul, and with him came his nephew who was a consul designate, but there are no other recorded defections by senators at this time. Plancus gave a speech in the Senate accusing Antony of a long list of crimes and abuses of power. Not everyone was impressed and an old rival drily commented, ‘Antony must have done a great many things to make you leave him!’ Far more damaging was the report that the two men had witnessed Antony’s will, now deposited in the Temple of Vesta at the heart of the Forum, and that its provisions were shocking.²⁴

The six Vestal Virgins composed Rome’s only female priesthood and were figures of great respect. The head of the order refused Octavian’s demand to be given the will, since this would have been an unprecedented breach of law and custom. However, he went into the temple and read the document, before removing it and having it — or more probably, carefully chosen sections — read out at a public meeting. In it Antony formally recognised Caesarion as the dictator’s son and also gave legacies to his own children by Cleopatra. This last was illegal, since a citizen could not make a non-citizen his heir. There must have been mention of Antyllus and his other Roman children, but it suited Octavian’s purpose to ignore such normal clauses. Finally, even if Antony were to be in Rome when he died, his remains were to be sent to be interred alongside Cleopatra.

None of our ancient sources suggests that the will was a forgery, although plenty of modern scholars have assumed this. There was certainly a will, and the odds are that Octavian was simply selective in his use of it. Antony had already publicly acknowledged his children by Cleopatra and proclaimed Caesarion as Caesar’s son, so in that sense there was nothing new in repeating these statements. His legacies to the children raise many questions, since he could not have been unaware that these were illegal. Perhaps he planned to give them citizenship or simply assumed that as triumvir anything he did was legal. Yet it is notable that Antony could imagine dying in Rome, away from Cleopatra.²⁵

That was not the impression people received. Octavian encouraged rumours that Antony and Cleopatra planned to rule the Republic as a personal empire, moving the capital to Alexandria — an echo of one of the accusations made against Caesar. The arrogance of the queen was stressed. She was said to have adopted a favoured oath, saying, ‘as surely as I shall dispense justice on the Capitol’. It did not matter that this contradicted the stories of Antony preferring Alexandria to Rome, wanting to rule from the Egyptian city and be buried there. The important thing was to convince Romans of Cleopatra’s pride and the danger she posed. Old prejudices against Greeks, easterners in general, royalty and powerful women interfering in the affairs of state all made the audience highly receptive to this message. To emphasise his own patriotism, Octavian began construction of a grand mausoleum on the Campus Martius.²⁶

There was no enthusiasm for another civil war and so Octavian marginalised Antony. He was merely a dupe, a weak man who had ceased to be a Roman and could no longer refuse his mistress anything. Stories of him washing her feet to honour a bet, of reading love letters while conducting public business and of trailing after her litter like a puppy all reinforced the image, even if they were untrue. Cleopatra was the danger, hence the vitriol of poets directed against her, savaging her character and bemoaning that a Roman commander and Roman legionaries ‘served’such a mistress.²⁷

Instead of a new civil war, Octavian gave Italy a great cause. Rome’s Republic faced the dire threat of a foreign ruler who wished to crush their freedom. It was a better pretext for war and people willingly chose to believe it as far as was necessary, since it was unrealistic to stop Antony and Octavian from fighting each other. Yet they would not fight against Antony but Cleopatra, not against Roman legions but an eastern host who worshipped strange, animal-headed gods. Communities throughout Italy took an oath of personal loyalty to Octavian. A few of Antony’s veteran colonies were exempted, but none showed any desire to fight on his behalf. Some senators fled to join him. Octavian later claimed that more than 700 chose to serve with him. The Senate was at most 1,000 strong at this time, and quite possibly smaller. Many of the remainder went to Antony, although it was most likely fewer than the 300 often alleged as having done. Some may have been too elderly to take an active role, while others chose neutrality. The most famous of these was Asinius Pollio, who said that he would stand apart from your quarrel and be a spoil of the victor’.²⁸

Antony’s active supporters in the Senate were heavily outnumbered. Some were desperate, including the last survivors from Caesar’s murderers, who obviously could not hope for reconciliation with Octavian. One of these men, Cassius of Parma, produced a string of vitriolic pamphlets attacking the young Caesar. He was accused of planning to marry his only daughter Julia to the king of the Getae from the Balkans to cement his Illyrian victories — clearly a reaction to disapproval of Antonia’s marriage to Pythodorus of Tralles. Even wilder was the allegation that Octavian had planned to divorce Livia and marry the king’s daughter instead.²⁹

What Antony had actually done was, or at least seemed, a lot more damaging than anything it could be claimed his rival had merely considered. By 32 BC, it was clear that Antony had lost the political struggle. The propaganda war would continue, but it had not gone well for him so far and things were unlikely to improve. His only hope was now to win the real war of armies and fleets.