Dreams of Empire
The Fall of the Roman Republic
by Addison Hart
The Enemy in the East
Though Antonius had hard work ahead of him, Octavian's task of holding Italy
together was rather tough going. The problem was land grants to veterans.
Eighteen cities had been confiscated by the government for land for the veterans
of the army, but the inhabitants of the city were, understandably, rather ticked
off by the idea of simply being shoved out of their dwellings so as some cut-up,
battle-weary soldier could move in. With the support of both Antonius and,
unsurprisingly, Sextus Pompey, the ancient Etruscan city of Perusia arose in
full revolt, rallying some small army to attempt to gain it's own independence,
or at least to show this upstart Octavian some sense. Despite the total
destruction of Perusia itself, the Perusian Wars seemed to last longer than they
should have, thanks to Antonius. The Eastern triumvir actually dared to sail
towards Italy. Was this to be the start of some nasty little political coup?
Of course, it was all stopped before it could get out of hand. Antonius,
Octavian, and Lepidus met at Brundisium in 40 BC, signing a treaty that set the
borders of the triumvirs. Poor Lepidus was surely not pleased with his meager
portions, but no one really cared all that much about what he felt. The treaty
of Brundisium, which carved up the Republican 'empire', was really the
second-to-last nail in the coffin of the aging, senile Republic, which could
barely thrash back at the triumvirs who seemed so keen on the idea of finally
killing it. Octavian then assured peace with Antonius (or so he hoped) by
offering his dear twenty-four year old sister, poor, soft-spoken Octavia, in
marriage to the forty-two year old triumvir of the East. The marriage was a
disaster from the start. Rather than spend his time with poor little Octavia,
Antonius preferred the company of the Queen of Egypt, the infamous Cleopatra.
Cleopatra of Egypt had a big nose and an even bigger ambition. She doesn't seem
to have been knock-dead gorgeous, but she wasn't ugly as sin either. She
certainly had the stuff to attract such men as Caesar and Antonius, who both
ended up giving her children in the end. Whether or not she really loved
Antonius, or just saw in him the means to keeping Egypt forever free is
debatable, but she obviously wasn't stupid. She'd already taken over the throne
herself, with the help of Caesar defeating her brother Ptolemy XIII, and then
herself ordering the murder of her younger brother and husband, little Ptolemy
XIV, and was now the Queen, paving the way for her son, Ptolemy, a.k.a.
Caesarion, the son of Caesar. She'd lost her three best Roman protectors
already. Pompey and Caesar had all been assassinated, and Dolabella, her latest
chum, had committed suicide when he was defeated in battle by Cassius during the
war with the assassins. When she met Antonius in one of his visits to
Alexandria, she put on all the charm she could to win him over, and her tactics
worked, Antonius soon became her lover, much to the chagrin of Octavia, poor
dear. She somehow got him to take a cruise with her on her infamous royal barge.
She, dressed as Aphrodite, was being as horrifically vulgar as possible in order
to win over this rather vulgar man.
Octavian had married recently as well. His new wife was the beautiful,
intelligent Livia Drusilla, whose husband (Tiberius Claudius Nero) had
grudgingly divorced her so that she could marry this new Caesar, despite the
fact that she was heavily pregnant with Tiberius' son, also Tiberius, and the
future emperor of Rome. Livia Drusilla was soon more than Octavian's beloved
wife, she was his propaganda machine. What he had was something that Antonius
didn't, namely a happy marriage. The other things he had that Antonius did not
have, were morals. Octavian was creating a good public image while Antonius did
not. While he and Livia were faithful to each other, he would suggest, Antonius
was unfaithful to Octavia. Octavian and Livia had a high moral code; Antonius
had no moral code. While Octavia sat at home, being the faithful wife, Antonius
ran through the streets of the Eastern cities, drunk as a skunk, and carousing
with many other women, that sinful temptress Cleopatra and that actress Volumnia
Cytheris among them.
Of course, Antonius was slightly busy as well. The Parthians, under King Pacorus
(Orodes having long since passed on), had invaded. Quintus Labienus had betrayed
Antonius, leaving the legions and flying to Pacorus. Now Pacorus was on the
move, in the year 40 BC he invaded Syria at the head of his men, crashing
through Antonius' defenders, and heading straight for the coast. Luckily,
Antonius was able to stem the Parthian tide, and in the year 39 BC his general
Ventidius Bassus defeated a Parthian army on Mount Amanus. Quintus Labienus had
been caught and beheaded in the aftermath. Despite this victory, the war was
hardly over, and Sextus Pompeius' pirates were picking off Rome's sea forces.
Finally, in 39 BC, the Triumvirate was changed in it's entirety at Misenum. Poor
Lepidus was accused of treason and sent into exile (no one cared what he thought
anyway), and in his place was none other than Sextus Pompeius, who was given
Achaea, Sardinia, and Sicily. Antonius' brother Lucius, a Consul, was leading a
new rebellion against Octavian, easily crushed by Octavian's right-hand-man
Marcus V. Agrippa, and things were looking increasingly bad for Antonius. The
city of Rome was behind Octavian; everyone was sick and tired of this
foolishness, what with the rebellions and all. Antonius' relationship with
Cleopatra was viewed as a disgrace, something not to be tolerated. When he
("whom ne'er the word of 'No' woman heard speak") married Cleopatra at Antioch
in 37 BC, committing bigamy, Octavian came very close to finally hauling off and
giving Antonius the chop, but the one thing that saved him was the fact that he
was expanding the borders, crossing the Euphrates, his general Bassus scoring a
major victory over the Parthians at Gindarus, taking the city of Samosata, and
killing King Pacorus himself. The victory had been won due to the use of the
famous testudo (tortoise) formation, which had literally caught the Parthians
off guard, their arrows simply bouncing off the tough Roman shields.
Things didn't stop there, of course. Cleopatra soon bore Antonius twins:
Cleopatra Selene and Alexander Helios. Antonius remained in Athens, controlling
his bit of the Empire, Octavia the ignored by his side. In reality, he was
eating out of the Queen's hand, and doing for her whatever she asked, including
arranging the assassination of Cleopatra's own sister Arsinoe. After the
Triumvirate was renewed at Tarentum in 38 BC (in which Sextus Pompeius, that
growing embarrassment, was totally axed out of the treaty), Antonius went down
to Syria, leaving Octavia once again, marrying Cleopatra, and taking her with
him on to glorious defeat at the hands of the Parthians, managing to get himself
thoroughly whipped by the enemy (he was, some said, drunk at the time), and
barely escaping back through Armenia. It wasn't anything to be proud of, but
Antonius didn't mind all that much. At least he had Armenia under his thumb now,
and he celebrated it in the triumph at Alexandria in 34 BC. While Antonius
became more and more dependent on Cleopatra, Octavian became dependent on men
who you could actually depend on: namely Agrippa and the chief minister, Cilinus
Maecenas. While Antonius got himself thrashed, Octavian actually scored
victories. Sextus Pompeius was finally drawn to battle, the tremendous sea fight
at Naulochus ending in a decisive Agrippan victory. Sextus got the axe, quite
literally this time, shortly thereafter. Next, of course, came in Marcus A.
Lepidus, again, hoping to re-enter this triumvirate, and bringing along an army
just to make sure that he did. He didn't of course, the ever-busy Agrippa
thrashing him, most of Lepidus's boys deserting before the enemy. Lepidus
conceded defeat, and instead of losing his head, he regained the office of
Pontifex Maximus. Perhaps he was finally contented, but no historian of
antiquity ever writes if he was or if he wasn't, but they probably didn't care
too much about it one way or the other.
In 34 BC, Antonius had finally left Octavia for the last time, though, at that
point, no one would know that for sure. It was to be expected however. The Queen
had seduced Antonius for the last time, and he finally left Octavia in Athens,
never to return to her. Octavian was hoping for this sort of thing, no doubt, he
was always looking for a good reason to finally vanquish his old and hated rival
Antonius, and to take back the East for the final time. It was in the bag, it
seemed there would be no way out of it now. If Antonius dared divorce Octavia,
Octavian would lunge out against him with all his power, and with the mighty
fist of Republican Rome (or was that now an oxymoron?) he'd reduce Antonius to
something resembling a little squashed bug. While Octavian was slowly bubbling
over with rage, Antonius was busy setting up the 'Association of Inimitable
Livers' with Cleopatra, or as Plutarch would have called them, the 'Inimitable
Lovers'. Of course, this association gained notably scorn from, well, most
everybody. Things were getting from bad to worse, it seemed. In Alexandria, a
statue was set up in an old district of the city that depicted 'Antonius, the
Great, lover without peer'. The inscription, of course, was a sly Alexandrian
pun on the name of Antonius' rather detestable association. Now Antonius was not
simply the target of Octavian's propaganda assaults, but he was the butt of some
rather bad jokes (that were carved into the city's venues), as well. This stuff
never ends, he must have thought. He was trying his hand at propaganda himself
now, but it wasn't much of an attempt. The idea was to assume the roles of
Dionysus and Aphrodite and their Egyptian counterparts Isis and Osiris. The idea
didn't really catch on.
When 33 BC came, it was evident that the storm was about to break and that
sooner or later, Egypt would be showered with blood. It was coming on fast, no
one doubted that. But what exactly was "it"? The year 33 BC started out with an
election for the post of Consul, and that election was easily won by, of course,
Octavian himself. There was no use in trying to project the idea that he was
still nothing more than the benevolent military controller, he was really the
top dog in Rome. Soon after this, Antonius made a return trip from Armenia. The
triumvirate was up for renewal as well, this year, but oddly enough, there was
no renewal. There was no trip to Tarentum, there was no document signed, there
was nothing. It was almost as if there had never been such a thing as the 2nd
Triumvirate. The old year ended as Antonius and Cleopatra wintered at Ephesus,
and the new year, 32 BC, began with a divorce. Antonius, as usual, was being
tactless. Was it not Cicero who had said "Any man can make mistakes, but only an
idiot persists in his error"?
The Storm Breaks
By the time Octavia, the poor, long-suffering tragic heroine, was finally
divorced by Antonius, Octavian had everything on his side. Twelve years had
given him the time to entrench himself in Roman politics, gain support, and
friends, and gain the love of the legions. What did Antonius have? He had a few
tired, defeated troops, a navy, and a universally hated wife, Cleopatra ("Queen
of Kings"), of course. If it wasn't stupid enough to divorce Octavia, what
Antonius did next took the first prize for stupid actions. He declared that all
of the eastern provinces of the Republic's Empire were now the property of
Cleopatra, her four children (another had been brought into the world since the
twins), and the Royal House of Egypt. Heavens, he also wrote that, of all
things, if he were killed in his "campaign in Italy" his body was to be brought
back to Cleopatra. This man could be no Roman; he had to be a fool. Octavian was
enraged by this betrayal, and he called upon the Senate for assistance,
assistance that they were only too pleased to provide. Octavian declared war.
Quickly, the two men began to build their armies. Octavian had the most money,
and he was the best loved of the two, and so, naturally enough, he attracted the
larger numbers of troops. While his legions were trained, he began to amass a
tremendous armada of ships, which he would put under the command of his old
friend, the iron-fisted Marcus V. Agrippa, and send right for Antonius in order
to block off any sea movements. Octavian opted not to take the field himself;
he'd leave the fighting to the more experienced officers, like Agrippa and Gaius
Cornelius Gallus. Antonius, on the other hand, would lead his men himself, and
Cleopatra would be coming with him. Other than his legions and Cleopatra's
Egyptian troops (ships included), Antonius had relatively few men, and was
having an incredibly hard time trying to muster too many troops. However, he was
already optimistic, planning a sweeping movement from Greece up Italy's boot.
Octavian's best weapon was, as always, propaganda. He said that he was fighting
for Roman morality, while Antonius was fighting for Egyptian decadence and
immorality. Furthermore, he'd handed over Rome's lands to this immoral,
adulterous wretch of a Queen. Cleopatra wasn't the Queen of Egypt, but she was
the Queen of Sin. Antonius wasn't any good at propaganda at all, as he evidenced
in a foolish letter sent off to Octavian in response to his declarations. The
message was crude, stupid, and hastily executed and sent. No doubt he deeply
regretted sending it after Octavian began to show it off as another example of
Antonius' crass immorality. One couldn't abide someone so stupid, decadent,
lecherous, and treacherous, Octavian reminded his people and his huge armies.
Late in the year, Octavian landed his troops in Epirus, not far from Antonius'
own forces, but wisely held off from making a full-scale attack. Instead, he
played the waiting game, and when the winter came, Antonius began to suffer.
When the next year came, Octavian still avoided a full battle, and watched over
much of the year as Antonius' army slowly began to dwindle. Many of Antonius'
troops were untrustworthy anyway, and a good number simply deserted while they
sat waiting for a movement. Instead of simply deciding to sit and wait for
Octavian to come attack (not that he'd actually do such a thing while Antonius
was still around), he boarded his ships that summer at the Gulf of Ambracia,
setting up camp at a city known as Actium, the site of a temple to Apollo.
Actium, placed on a promontory on the western coast of Greece, on the mouth of
the Ambracian Gulf, would hence become the site of Antonius' positions for the
rest of the year. Unfortunately for him, Octavian soon set up camp on the
northern promontory, five miles away. Then, across the mouth of the Gulf, he
threw out Agrippa's huge armada, which formed a blockade, keeping the navy of
Antonius trapped in the waters of the Gulf. Then, with Antonius in this
potentially nasty situation, Octavian decided to wait out the rest of summer. As
Antonius' troops dwindled further, and the summer heat took it's toll on the
rest of his men, Antonius and Cleopatra tried desperately to find an avenue of
escape, even trying to cut a canal through the promontory. It was a failure, of
course.
Actium
Finally, by the end of August 31 BC, Antonius decided to abandon his army, and
to break through Agrippa's blockade. It was a doomed fleet, he knew that, but
perhaps some of his ships could break through, and he'd be able to get back to
Egypt to build a reliable army with which he could finally destroy his nemesis.
It was not to be, Agrippa swiftly noticed Antonius, and on September 2nd, 41 BC,
came the battle of Actium. As Antonius' large navy came forward, in an organized
battle formation, Agrippa's men moved forward, rows of oars splashing through
the waves, the curled prows, some with figureheads, such as heads of Athena or
Roma on their fronts, came forward, approaching the enemy. As the ships, some
with eyes painted on their sides, rolled forward, the orders to attack were
given. Immediately there came the crunching sounds, ships tearing into ships,
cries of "Ramming speed" cut through the air. As prows slammed into the ship's
sides, it was evident that Antonius was going to be, quite literally, sunk.
Agrippa was ordering that his men set the enemy ships aflame, and soon the
Egyptian ships began to disappear into the roaring flames. The sea, it seemed,
was alight. Nothing, of course, could have saved the Egyptian fleet. Firstly,
the Egyptian sailors were suffering due to a plague that had broken out in camp.
To add to that, the oversized, bulky Egyptian ships were hard to maneuver in
this water, and the smaller Roman ships were, of course, not hard to move at
all. As the legionnaires bunkered down to protect themselves from the hails of
arrows, the cries of the dying and the wounded became deafening.
All over the water, prows tore through the enemy vessels, and the Roman fleet
began to send in their boarding parties, who, once aboard the ships, immediately
proceeded to kill everyone aboard, crewmen, swordsmen, and archers alike. "When
things were in this situation," writes Plutarch, "and nothing decisive was yet
effected, Cleopatra's ships suddenly took to flight through the midst of the
combatants, throwing their own fleet into confusion." Cleopatra, it seemed, was
on the lam, her own large flagship, surrounded by sixty warships from her
squadron, slipping past the enemy vessels. However, through his act, Cleopatra
had ruined any chance of victory. In the rush to follow Cleopatra, many ships
simply stopped attacking in order to slip through the hole, and were quickly
destroyed. All organization was lost. "No sooner did Antony see her ships
hoisting sail then, forgetting everything else, he took a small galley and
followed her," writes Plutarch. Indeed, now both leaders had abandoned their
ships and armies to utter destruction at the hands of Marcus Agrippa. Antonius
had fled the coup, boarded Cleopatra's galley, and sat in the bows in despair,
speaking to no one for a good two days. Agrippa soon punched the remaining enemy
ships to oblivion, capturing a good number of enemies. Abandoned and tired, the
remainder of Antonius' troops in Greece surrendered to Octavian without a fight.
Antonius was now to be pursued and killed. He was not to be allowed to slip
through Octavian's fingers again. Almost immediately after dealing with the
remnants of Antonius' force, Agrippa and Octavian's troops left Greece for
Alexandria.
Immediately, the immense propaganda machine of Octavian, alias Caesar, started
rolling into action yet again. Antonius and Cleopatra were (as usual) denounced,
and their defeat at Actium was praised as a great victory of Roman morals over
the despicable morals displayed by those two. Octavian proclaimed the victory
the work of great Apollo, the sun god, and all about the provinces, Apollo was
praised. Coins were soon minted in honor of the great battle of Actium,
displaying the fact that the crocodile, the Grecian and Roman symbol of Egypt,
had been overcome. Octavian, ob cives servatos (having saved his fellow
citizens), was a true hero. Even now, with the people of Rome rejoicing over
Actium, Octavian and his lieutenants were setting out for the last battle, and
no doubt, the greatest victory. In July 30 BC, Octavian, personally leading his
military forces, with men like Agrippa and Gallus at his side, landed with his
large and well-prepared army at Pelusium. Antonius was unprepared, with only a
small group of men. There was little at all he could actually do in the
situation, and so he sent Octavian a challenge to single combat. The idea must
have seemed to Octavian to be rather ridiculous, he was in his very early
thirties, Antonius was in his late forties, Octavian was a rather small man, and
really no good at anything physical, whereas Antonius, well, he was exactly the
opposite. Octavian turned down the offer (not that there was any chance that
he'd accept), writing to him "There are many ways to die."
Apparently, Antonius knew that. By the time that Octavian entered Alexandria,
capturing Cleopatra, her family, and her palace, Antonius was already dead.
Apparently, he'd somehow been separated from her as the forces of Octavian moved
inland, and he'd received a false rumor that she'd been killed. Immediately, he
ordered his slave to hold out his sword so that he could run on it. Despite
being stabbed through the belly, Antonius still survived it long enough to be
taken to Alexandria by his slaves and to the arms of Cleopatra, who he was most
pleased to find alive. Plutarch says he died in her arms as the result of those
same self-inflicted stab wounds. Whatever the case, Marcus Antonius was long
dead by the time Octavian marched into Alexandria.
First things come first. Octavian arranged for the nice, quiet execution of
Caesarion. It was, of course, necessary in old Octavian's opinion, as Caesarion
was, firstly, the son of Caesar, indeed, a closer relation to Caesar than
Octavian himself, and thus a great threat to Octavian's claim to Caesar's title,
fortune and power. Secondly, he was the rightful king of Egypt, and if he were
allowed to live he might just still become a major pain in the future, which
passed all too quickly for guys like Octavian, who seems to have destroyed all
of his enemies before he was thirty-three. And so, on a hot August day in 30 BC,
a swing of the sword separated young Caesarion's head from his neck. Now, of
course, came the matter of how to deal with Cleopatra.
Cleopatra was immediately shocked to learn, much to her horror, that Octavian
had arranged for her to be playing a major part in his upcoming triumph. She'd
be displayed in a cage, in chains, the conquered beast, much like her own
equally clever and ambitious sister Arsinoe during the time of Julius Caesar.
This was really too much to bear, she'd seen Arsinoe in the triumph parade after
the Alexandrian War. The jeering of the crowd, the obscene comments, the hurled
objects, it was not something she'd like to go through. She soon made an attempt
to seduce the morally firm Octavian himself, which was a mistake indeed. Unlike
the late general Antonius, Octavian was not the sort to given into that sort of
thing. There was now only one avenue of escape open, and that was, regrettably,
suicide. The rumors were that she and her slaves had been found dead in her
bedroom. A deadly asp, the royal symbol of the kings of Egypt, was rumored to
have been found in her room along with the bodies. Cleopatra had apparently
smuggled the snake in with a basket of figs, and allowed it to take a nip at her
bosom, and she soon died as a result of it's poison. Actually, in all
probability, despite what the old romantic diehards would like to say, if there
was a snake that killed old Cleopatra, it probably wasn't an asp at all, but a
cobra. Asps don't give you a bite that quickly kills, the poison instead takes a
good amount of time and usually the victim is subject to a loss of the control
of the bowels, as well. Any Egyptian would have known that, and besides, who
wants to die slowly and painfully when a cobra kills you almost instantly?
Cleopatra and Antonius were buried together in Alexandria on Octavian's orders
(as Antonius had allegedly asked for in his will), and poor old Caesarion was
buried nearby. The remaining three children, all children of Antonius, were
allowed to live. Alexander, for example, was sent off to Armenia as a ruler, and
Cleopatra Selene was married off to the new King of Mauritania, Juba II, a Roman
ally. The two lived out the rest of their days happily in exile on the Canary
Islands. The royal fortune was to be divided up, and given as pay to Octavian's
brave and noble Roman veterans. All over the city statues of Antonius,
Cleopatra, and Caesarion were removed, or defaced. In their places were statues
and portraits of noble Octavian. Indeed, there was one colossal statue made of
him from solid marble.
Dreams of Empire
Cassius Dio wrote: "Cleopatra's brazen desire for passion and wealth was
insatiable. By love she had made herself queen of Egypt. But she failed in her
goal to become queen of the Romans." Horace wrote a poem soon afterward,
portraying the great victory over the Egyptians and their seductress queen.
"Drink we now, and dancing round, Press with footsteps free the ground; Pour we
now the rosy wine, And, in honor of the gods, Comrades in their own abodes Pile
we the banquet on each holy shrine. Sin it were ere now to pour Forth the
cellar's generous store; While the haughty queen of the Nile, With her base and
scurvy crew, Dared unbridled to pursue Wild hopes, and drunk with Fortune's
favoring smile, Madly dreamed the Capitol Soon should totter to it's fall, And
the Empire's self should die; When all of the ships of the Nile From Rome's
avenging fires scarce one could fly…"
And here was Octavian. At the age of thirty-two, he'd literally seen over the
ultimate destruction of each and every one of his enemies, and when he arrived
from Epirus in 44 BC after the death of Caesar, he certainly had many of those.
It's definitely not something most could boast of, but Octavian had done it, and
survived. The people loved him, and the Senate loved him. From then on, his path
to greatness was quick, and by 23 BC, he was imperator, in other words,
conqueror, dictator, emperor. More than that, he would become the majestic one,
Caesar Augustus himself. Octavian's ultimate victory was over the Republic
itself. He would rule for nearly thirty years, Livia always his beloved and
devoted wife, Agrippa always his friend and advisor. He was not simply the first
emperor of Rome: he was the greatest.
And what of the Republic? The Republic was finished in 23 BC, the Empire
replaced it. When the Social War came to a close, the Republic was left mortally
wounded, but the Republic would take on nearly ninety years and many more wounds
to die. That venerable Republic, always beloved by it's citizens and protected
by it's Senators, was now becoming too old for it's own good, and had to finally
be put down. The Republic, which had held firm for about four hundred years, was
finally scrapped. It was, it seems, now obsolete, out of date, much like the old
Roman calendar itself. And also much like the old Roman calendar, it had been a
Caesar that had done it in.
- - -
Copyright © 2002 Addison Hart.
Written by Addison Hart.
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