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Julius Caesar’s murder is often seen as the event that ushered in the age of emperors. Yet – writes Shushma Malik – structural weaknesses had plagued Rome’s republic long before his death
Few events in the long span of Roman history were as bold or as shocking as the murder of Julius Caesar. On 15 March 44 Dc, in the consecrated space of Pompey's theatre, the life of the man who had come to utterly dominate Rome's political landscape in the middle decades of the first century BC was brought to an end in a flurry of assassins' blades. The repercussions for Rome and its expanding empire were immense. Historians have been fascinated with the killing ever since – not just because of its audacity, but also because of what it meant for the future of Rome. When Marcus Junius Brutus and his fellow conspirators attacked Caesar on the Ides of March, Rome had been organised around a system of government called the ‘republic’ for almost five centuries. Quiz | How much do you know about Julius Caesar? Within 15 years of Caesar’s death, that republic had been transformed by a tidal wave of recriminations and civil war – to be replaced by the age of the emperors. It is this very reason that Caesar’s death has been seen as a decisive break in Rome’s history: when one period came to an end and another – dominated by men such as Augustus, Nero and Hadrian – began. Read more | Alternate history: what if Julius Caesar had not been assassinated? Yet to ascribe the fall of the republic solely to the upheaval that followed the events of 44 BC would be a mistake. The republic was a system of government already under immense structural pressure from a range of forces, and those forces had begun pulling at the system's fabric long before the rise of Caesar. The Roman Republic: A Glossary Patricians: members of Rome’s aristocratic families. Plebs: non-aristocratic citizens. Consul: one of two annually elected chief magistrates who jointly ruled the republic. Praetor: a magistrate whose role could include keeping law and order in the city, or taking charge of military affairs if a consul was away fighting. Aedile: an official whose responsibilities included staging the Roman games and looking after public buildings. Quaestor: a junior member of the senate responsible for looking after public revenue and expenditure. Tribune of the plebs: an official elected to represent and protect the plebeian class. Triumvirate: a group of three men holding power, such as the coalition formed by Octavian, Mark Antony and Marcus Aemilius Lepidus following Caesar’s assassination. To understand the long roots of the republic's demise, it is first worth setting out what the republic was. Its name comes from the Latin term res publica, translated as 'public thing'. This signalled the fact that the business of the state was public property. The republic was a system of government built around the idea of a mixed constitution, one that protected against the emergence of tyranny by ensuring that power could not lie with one person alone. In practice, this meant that the highest magistrates, the consuls, were elected annually, and two men held the post at the same time. In order to reach the consulship, Romans would usually have to climb the cursus honorum (‘ladder of honours’), which started with the role of quaestor or tribune of the plebs, and progressed through the roles of aedile and praetor to the consulship. The idea of elite competition, in which the ‘best men’ (aristocrats) competed for the top jobs each year, underpinned, in the minds of some Roman historians, the republic's success. But consuls were just one part of the equation of the republican government. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2023/12/W45159webuse-a9233da.jpg" width="620" height="413" alt="A 19th-century painting shows Cicero denouncing a conspiracy to overthrow the republic in the Roman senate. Corruption and the rapid expansion of the empire were among the challenges that buffeted the republic over its history." title="A 19th-century painting shows Cicero denouncing a conspiracy to overthrow the republic in the Roman senate. Corruption and the rapid expansion of the empire were among the challenges that buffeted the republic over its history." /> When the mixed constitution worked properly, power was balanced in a way that meant the magistrates, the senate, and the people had a say in ruling Rome. The consuls, as the leading magistrates, had the right of military command and the power to summon the senate and the people. The senate, made up of Rome’s leading men, proposed and debated laws. The people’s assemblies – the democratic element made up of Roman citizens (always men) – elected magistrates, approved or rejected laws, and decided on issues such as declarations of war. Each part of the system was intended to balance the other. That, at least, was the theory. The reality was far more grubby. From its inception, the checks and balances that the mixed constitution was supposed to provide were undermined by a chronic lack of accountability. That was especially the case in the democratic element. Take the comitia centuriata as an example. In this particular people’s assembly, Roman male citizens were divided into groups of 100 men each, called ‘centuries’, to vote. Yet not all citizens were equal: the wealthiest minority in society took up 98 out of the 193 centuries, while the poorest, most populous section of society had to make do with just five. This was not a system based around the principle of one man, one vote. The weighting of the political system towards the wealthy few had profound implications for Roman society – not least the fact that it opened up the system to corruption. According to the first-century BC statesman and scholar Cicero, the res publica worked well when those in charge were looking out for the public good. But, as Rome’s long history of anti-corruption measures shows, politicians often used public office for private gain. Another ingredient that posed a challenge to the Roman res publica was the fact that it was in a near constant state of flux, shaped and buffeted by a host of ever-evolving challenges, opportunities and threats. In the second century BC, the historian Polybius described the mixed constitution as the source of Rome’s imperial greatness. Yet that constitution did not appear fully formed in 509 BC (the year the last of Rome’s kings was expelled). Nor did it ever remain static in its almost 500-year history. One of the main voting assemblies, the concilium plebis (‘council of the plebeians’), wasn’t established until c471 BC after the plebeians refused to take part in military service until they were granted effective political representation. There was a ban on marriages between patricians and plebeians until the lex Canuleia of 445 BC. And it didn’t become mandatory for one consul to be a plebeian until 342 BC. The negotiation of power within the republic also shifted. The mid-second century BC saw two brothers, Tiberius and Gaius Gracchus, attempt to hold the office of tribune of the plebs for more than a year. The Gracchus brothers earned popular support on the promise of distributing power more evenly across Roman society. They pushed through land reforms and sought to introduce laws against judicial corruption and extortion. As it turned out, they overreached themselves – Tiberius’s attempt to win re-election for the year 133 BC sparked a riot that caused his death, and Gaius met a similar fate to his brother a decade later. However, their emergence forced a wedge between the office of the tribune and the other aristocratic members of the senate. Among the factors driving the brothers’ rise was the rapid expansion of empire, and that growth’s destabilising effect on Rome’s imperial centre. One salient issue confronting Rome’s decision-makers was the question of how new people could be incorporated into the citizen body. Since the early republican period, Rome had been expanding its territory out into Italy. Many Italians subjugated by the Romans were not offered citizenship, but at the same time they were expected to fight with the Romans as allied forces (socii). The socii were so enraged by this state of affairs that, in the 80s BC, they went to war with the Romans. The so-called Social War resulted in the enfranchisement of most Italians. But this was not a quick-fix solution to Rome’s structural problems. The expansion of empire created vast inequalities allowing certain citizens to be- come extraordinarily wealthy, particularly those with extensive military careers. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2023/12/AKG4163866web-b0ffc2f.jpg" width="620" height="413" alt="An artist’s impression of the Curia Julia, Rome’s senate house, completed in 29 BC, and (top) its ancient bronze door. Though the senate continued to administer the empire under Augustus, he would ultimately operate the levers of power. (Photo by British Museum)" title="An artist’s impression of the Curia Julia, Rome’s senate house, completed in 29 BC, and (top) its ancient bronze door. Though the senate continued to administer the empire under Augustus, he would ultimately operate the levers of power. (Photo by British Museum)" /> One ancient historian, Livy, describes Lucius Aemilius Paulus returning from the Macedonian wars in 167 BC on a boat with 16 banks of oars, displaying to those who gathered along the Tiber his spoils of war, including a magnificent array of royal fabrics. Paulus donated some of these spoils to the public treasury, but spent the rest on public and private displays of wealth. The emergence of a new class of super-rich generals not only supercharged the ‘wealth gap’ between the wealthiest and poorest in society, it also created disparities among Rome’s elite. Men such as Caesar and Pompey – two of the most successful generals of the mid-first century BC – accumulated massive fortunes. This not only enabled them to buy political support by way of bribes, it also allowed them to use magnificent building projects and spectacular games to win the acclaim of the people. Neither the evolution of the political system nor the expansion of the empire were, on their own, enough to bring down the Roman republic. But the combination of the two seems to have lit a match under Rome. Rome had seen powerful individuals before the rise of Pompey and Caesar. Scipio Africanus amassed significant personal power following his defeat of Hannibal in 202 BC. So, too, did Scipio Aemilianus after the destruction of Carthage in 146 BC. The difference was that the victories of Pompey and Caesar came at a moment in history when, while a select band of military men grew fat on the proceeds of their conquests, an increasing number of people felt left out of Rome’s imperial picture. By the middle of the first century BC, such tensions began to manifest themselves in successive waves of political violence. In 52 BC, a former tribune of the plebs, Clodius Pulcher, was murdered after a brawl between his gang and that of his political rival, Milo. Following Clodius’s death, his followers took his body to the senate house and used it as a pyre for his cremation. The building – which, according to Roman tradition, dated back to Rome’s third king, Tullus Hostilius – was burned to the ground. The animosity between Clodius and Milo was in part caused by the fact that they supported rival political factions. The optimates, exemplified by senators such as Cicero and Pompey, believed in doing politics through the senate; the populares, with Caesar to the fore, preferred to take their policies straight to the people. The violence between Clodius and Milo would soon be overshadowed by another, more consequential, outbreak of internal unrest. In 49 BC, tensions between Pompey and Caesar reached boiling point and erupted into a full- blown civil war, with the latter famously crossing the Rubicon and marching on Rome. This clash has been portrayed as the product of the ambition of individual men, but the instability of the previous decades suggests that it was also a result of political and social shifts in Rome’s widening empire. After Caesar had inflicted a conclusive defeat on Pompey at Pharsalus in 48 BC, the politicians who supported him squeezed the system further still, by giving him the title ‘dictator perpetuo’ (dictator in perpetuity). The role of dictator was a constitutional one, which had its roots as an emergency office used during the Roman republic to deal with situations of extreme danger (such as enemy attack). But Caesar used the office to separate his power from that of other magistrates. The taking of the title in perpetuity was, according to the second-century AD historian Cassius Dio, the final straw for Caesar’s enemies. Two months later, he was assassinated. Read more | Cheese, angry gods and shoddy surgeons: the unlikely deaths of Roman emperors After Caesar's death on the Ides of March, the conspirators had envisaged a return to the republic. But it's not necessarily the case that this republic embodied the principles of the mixed constitution with its checks and balances intact. One of the most famous pieces of material evidence that remains from this period is the ‘Ides of March’ coin. On the coin’s reverse side are images related to Caesar’s killing – daggers and a ‘pileus’ cap representing freedom (shown above). Just as important, however, is the obverse of the coin, which features a bust of Marcus Junius Brutus. Living individuals were not portrayed on coins in the republic – this was an honour reserved for gods and revered ancestors. View Green Video on the source website Julius Caesar was the first to break with this tradition in 44 BC, minting a coin with his bust on the obverse and the legend ‘Dict(ator) Perpetvo Caesar’. Now Brutus was doing the same. That he did so, following in the footsteps of the man he’d helped assassinate, emphasises how attitudes to representations of individual power had changed. In the republic as imagined by Brutus, there now seemed to be space for this new articulation of aristocratic status. But Brutus did not manage to restore even this revised version of the republic. In 43 BC, Caesar’s killers were outmanoeuvred by Octavian (Caesar’s adopted son), Mark Antony (Caesar’s co-consul in 44) and Marcus Aemilius Lepidus, who formed a triumvirate that afforded them extraordinary powers. The so-called triumvirs used that power to make and annul laws, appoint magistrates, command armies – and hunt down the conspirators. After suffering defeat at Philippi in 42 BC, Brutus and his fellow conspirator Cassius both fell on their swords. But then the triumvirs fell out with each other. In 36 BC, Octavian forced Lepidus into retirement and then went to war with Antony, triumphing over his erstwhile ally at the battle of Actium – a victory that led to Antony’s suicide (and that of his lover, Cleopatra) in 30 BC. Octavian was now the last triumvir standing. He held a triple triumph in Rome in 29 BC, and then in 27 BC, in recognition of his power, the senate conferred on him the title ‘the most revered one’: Augustus. In his Res Gestae, the inscription erected outside his mausoleum to record the achievements of his reign as Rome’s first emperor, Augustus would claim that he restored the res publica after Actium. However, retrospect makes it clear that, by the time he died in AD 14, the mixed constitution that characterised the republic had, for the most part, disappeared. It was Rome’s second emperor, Tiberius, who formally transferred the powers of the voting assemblies to the senate. But Augustus had already begun to undermine their role by proposing his own candidates for the magistracies (adlection). The senate retained its role as a body that administered the empire, with most provincial governors chosen from among its ranks, but the emperor took over matters of policy. Because the Roman political system had always been subject to reform, Augustus could frame these changes as natural ones that responded to the social and political needs of the time. And he did so using a rhetoric that claimed the spirit of the republic still lived. The problem, of course, as the historian Harriet Flower has pointed out, is that the political reality was not of one republic, but rather a series of Roman republics, in which evolving political situations necessitated a continual re-imagining of the relationship between individuals, aristocrats and the wider Roman state. According to Augustus, his re-imagining merely took this evolution one step further. The result was the rise of the imperial Roman principate. Shushma Malik is Onassis classics fellow at Newnham College, University of Cambridge. Her books include The Nero-Antichrist: Founding and Fashioning a Paradigm (Cambridge, 2020). Accompanies the BBC Two series Julius Caesar: Making of a Dictator
Emperors, popes and Renaissance glory: exploring Rome’s history
History's greatest cities podcast series
Now capital of a united Italy, Rome has enjoyed eras of imperial might but also periods of conflict and chaos. Dr Shushma Malik guides us through the key events of the past 28 centuries.
Famously – or, at least, according to legend – Rome owes its existence to twin brothers Romulus and Remus, sons of the war god Mars, who had been abandoned and suckled by a she-wolf. Having established settlements on the Palatine and Aventine Hills, respectively, the two fought, and Remus was killed. By tradition, Rome was founded on that day, 21 April 753 BC, with Romulus becoming the first of seven kings. Remains of Iron Age settlement have been discovered on the Palatine Hill, and evidence of even earlier Bronze Age occupation in the region, so perhaps that story isn’t pure myth. The last of the seven mythical kings, Lucius Tarquinius Superbus – Tarquin the Proud – was a tyrannical ruler. His son, Sextus Tarquinius, was also a criminal; Sextus’ rape of another man’s wife, Lucretia, and her subsequent suicide was the highly disturbing episode that, according to the historian Livy (writing some five centuries later), prompted the expulsion of the king and the foundation of the Roman Republic in 509 BC. Read more | Sarah Peverley on why Italy’s ancient capital is her favourite place From kingdom to republic Rome would be governed by a senate headed by two consuls, ensuring that no one man had complete power. In that nascent republic, the centre of civic life, as well as religion, commerce and entertainment, was the Roman Forum, still a fascinating place to visit today. Initially a relatively small settlement with limited influence, over the following five centuries of the republic Rome grew as its territory expanded. Its power swelled throughout what’s now Italy, then across and around the Mediterranean with wars against the Macedonians and with Carthage in the third and second centuries BC. By the end of the Third Punic War in 146 BC, Roman territory covered parts of the Iberian Peninsula and what’s now Tunisia. The following century, as a result of conquests by generals including Julius Caesar, it grew to encompass much of mainland western Europe, swathes of coastal North Africa and the Middle East. Read more | The big question: what have the Romans ever done for us? Successful generals became very wealthy – and the spoils of their victories, which included money, artefacts and vast numbers of enslaved people, were used to build monuments to their glory. One of the earliest examples is the Temple of Castor and Pollux, associated with a Roman triumph over other Italians at the battle of Lake Regillus in 495 BC. Later figures during this period of conquest and expansion, including Gnaeus Pompeius Magnus (known as Pompey the Great) and Julius Caesar, also left their marks on the city. The latter bought some very expensive land to build a new forum, north-east of the Roman Forum. And the former built a great theatre on the Campus Martius (Field of Mars), sadly no longer surviving – but infamous as the site of Julius Caesar’s assassination in 44 BC. History's Greatest Cities: A HistoryExtra podcast series This companion piece accompanies our podcast miniseries History's Greatest Cities. Listen to the full episode on Rome with Shushma Malik and Paul Bloomfield, then explore the entire series All History's Greatest Cities episodes From republic to empire Caesar’s death sparked a tussle for power that erupted into civil war, ending when his adopted son, Octavian, defeated Mark Antony at the battle of Actium in 31 BC. Four years later, the senate awarded him the title Augustus, the first emperor of Rome. During his lengthy rule (until AD 14), Augustus oversaw major building projects. He finished Julius Caesar’s Forum, expanding it into the Campus Martius, where soldiers had traditionally mustered before heading out to war. And in 13 BC, the senate ordered the creation of the Ara Pacis – an altar dedicated to Augustus, celebrating the peace he’d secured across the now-vast empire – which now stands next to his mausoleum. Successive emperors vied to outdo the one before in expanding, improving and beautifying the city. Trajan (ruled AD 98–117) built the towering column carved with reliefs commemorating his campaigns in what’s now Romania. Hadrian (ruled AD 117–138) – builder of the wall in Roman Britain – comprehensively rebuilt the Pantheon, the only ancient building that’s remained largely intact over the past two millennia. And several emperors built palaces on the Palatine, from which the English word palace is derived. Read more | Everything you wanted to know about the Roman emperors Alongside these religious and monumental buildings designed to glorify themselves, emperors also acted as benefactors to the people of the city and the empire. The Colosseum is a famous example – probably Rome’s first permanent amphitheatre, it was commissioned by Vespasian in AD 72 and finished by his son, Titus, in AD 80. Its construction partly funded by the war in Judea. There were also porticos around central Rome where people could congregate in the evening, as well as tavernas and restaurants – some of which would have been very cheap – and of course shops and other places to buy and sell. Visit Trajan’s Markets to get an idea of these kinds of amenities. Another factor that had an impact on the physical landscape of Rome over the following centuries was the arrival of Christianity, probably only about 20 or 30 years or so after the death of Christ. The first Christian emperor, however, was Constantine, who is believed to have converted to Christianity in AD 312; the first known dedicated churches in Rome were built later that century. You can visit one of the earliest beneath the 12th-century Basilica of San Clemente, on the Via di San Giovanni in Laterano. From empire to papacy During this time, Rome’s power was challenged in various regions. In AD 286, the emperor Diocletian had decided to divide the empire into east and west. The wealthy city that became the eastern seat of power, Constantinople, was already in the ascendancy. Though there was still a senate in Rome, and an incredibly powerful symbolism to the city, it increasingly suffered security problems. And in AD 410, Rome was sacked by the Visigoths – the first time in some 800 years that the city itself had actually been physically attacked. A different kind of power remained in Rome, though: that of the Catholic Church. So while some ancient monuments were dismantled or allowed to fall into ruin over the following centuries, and the population dwindled to just a few thousand, the papacy remained – most of the time, anyway. But the power that lay behind the idea of the Roman emperor endured and, after the Frankish king Charlemagne conquered Italy, in AD 800 he was crowned as an emperor in charge of governing the Roman empire – a hugely symbolic event. Over the next few centuries, the city suffered some of its hardest days. It was riven by local conflict, external attacks, even a schism after the papacy moved to Avignon in 1309; the Black Death also took its toll. Read more | Holy smoke, antipopes and power struggles: a guide to popes and the papacy From the 15th century, though, political, financial and cultural capital returned to Rome during the Renaissance. Wealth arrived with families such as the Borgias, funding the creation of great art and architecture; Michelangelo, Raphael and Cellini were drawn to work in the Vatican, and villas and palaces were built around Rome to accommodate the immensely rich people who patronised such artists. Over the next few centuries, styles evolved. St Peter’s Basilica in the Vatican, begun in 1506 at the zenith of the Renaissance, had become an opulent Baroque edifice by the time it was completed in 1626. Francesco Borromini continued the theme with his churches and other work across Rome, adapting Classical forms into Baroque structures. The 18th century saw the installation of rococo monuments such as the Trevi Fountain – itself built on the site of an ancient Roman original – and Spanish Steps. All the while, aristocratic visitors from Britain and elsewhere – so-called Grand Tourists – were collecting artworks and taking back these ideas. From Grand Tourist hotspot to Italian capital The French Revolution in the late 18th century, and the revolutions that rocked much of Europe in 1848, had an impact on Rome, which briefly returned to a republic in 1849. Two key figures of the time were Giuseppe Manzini and Giuseppe Garibaldi, who both held offices in that republic, and who helped to drive the Risorgimento – unification movement – through the 1860s and early 1870s, essentially creating the kingdom of Italy. Rome, though, was not immediately its capital; that was first Turin, then Florence, until the seat of government settled in Rome in the 1870s. That reunification is celebrated in the grandiose white marble confection of the Victor Emmanuel II Monument, built from 1885 to honour the first king of the reunified Italy. Following the First World War, when Italy fought the Austro-Hungarian empire on its northern borders, nationalist sentiments swelled. The main beneficiary was Benito Mussolini, who saw himself as a new Emperor Augustus, and focused on building back the glory of Rome through the Fascist state he established after seizing power in 1922. Read more | The March on Rome 1922: how Benito Mussolini turned Italy into the first Fascist state As part of that process, to imprint his mark on the ‘Eternal City’, he built the vast Via dei Fori Imperiali, a triumphal route leading from the Victor Emmanuel Monument to the Colosseum – ironically, cutting through and destroying parts of the ancient forums. Italy became a republic once again after the Second World War. And in the decades since – some politically turbulent, many triumphant – it has continued to restore and reinvent. Hosting the 1960 Summer Olympics sparked major rebuilding work. Since then, in fashion, film and music as well as sport, it’s once again become a powerhouse, as well as an extraordinary place to visit – for its modern spirit as much as its astonishingly long, varied history. Read more about historical travel Episode 3: Rome | Listen to this article's companion podcast episode History's Greatest Cities | Explore all episodes in this podcast miniseries Ye Olde Travel Guides | Discover more global destinations with a historic twist Dr Shushma Malik was speaking to Paul Bloomfield, travel journalist and host of our podcast series History's Greatest Cities What to see: Rome in five places The ancient imperial capital has undergone many transformations over the centuries. Shushma Malik highlights five spots to visit for insights into Rome’s layered past. 1. Basilica of San Clemente Rome is a giant palimpsest, with successive strata of history written one on top of the other. There’s a great example of that in just one building on the Via di San Giovanni in Laterano. The Basilica of San Clemente, built from 1108, is a wonderful monument in itself, with fine mosaics and frescoes in a side chapel. But below the 12th-century church there’s another, dating from the fourth century and rediscovered in 1857. And below that lie two Roman buildings from the late first century. One was a house possibly used as a titulus – a clandestine early Christian meeting place. The other contained a Mithraeum, a temple to the cult of Mithras, of a kind seen in other parts of the empire, including Britain. (There’s a Mithraeum in the City of London, and another at Carrawburgh Fort on Hadrian’s Wall – the cult was popular with Roman soldiers in that period.) This one boasts a finely carved altar depicting the god Mithras killing a bull, typical of such sites. 2. Tomb of Cecilia Metella This incredible funerary monument on the Via Appia, probably dating from the late first century BC, consists of an 11-metre-high cylindrical drum. It highlights the status of aristocratic women in Rome – specifically, one very well-connected woman, Cecilia Metella. The inscription on the tomb tells us she was the daughter of Quintus Cecilius Metellus Creticus, and the wife of a man called Crassus. Her father was probably the consul of 69 BC, and her husband may have been Marcus Licinius Crassus, another important politician and the son of the Crassus who was famous as a member of the ‘first triumvirate’ along with Pompey and Julius Caesar. So the monument is fascinating because of who she was, but also because, again, it’s an example of historical layering. In the early 14th century, the tomb was incorporated into a fortress built by the Caetani family, relatives of Pope Boniface VIII. Parts of that huge structure still survive today. 3. Servian Wall If you arrive or depart Rome through the central train station, Termini, look carefully around the surrounding area – and inside: you’ll find bits of ancient wall among the fast-food restaurants. The Servian Wall was one of Rome’s earlier defensive boundaries. It’s named after the Roman king Servius Tullius who, according to legend, reigned in about the sixth century BC, but the structure has been dated using modern methods to the fourth century BC. It’s quite something to eat a slice of pizza or a burger right next to this incredibly old piece of Roman history. 4. Monte Testaccio This mound, in the Testaccio district, is no ordinary hill. Rising to around 35 metres, it’s made of the earthenware shards (testae, in Latin) of amphorae – pottery jars used to store goods and to transport them around the Roman empire. They contained all sorts of things, from grain to olive oil; very small amphorae contained more expensive goods such as perfumes. The layers of this ancient Roman landfill site excavated so far (most from the second and third centuries AD), mainly comprise very large containers in which olive oil was shipped before being poured into smaller ones for domestic use. Monte Testaccio is near the site of an olive oil warehouse, from where these amphorae were taken to be broken up then covered with lime to hide the smell. 5. Capitoline Insula At the base of the Capitoline Hill, look for a distinctly everyday building: a block of flats. The Capitoline (or Ara Coeli) Insula dates from the early second century AD, probably during the reign of Emperor Trajan, which also saw the construction of a large marketplace and huge column celebrating his victories. W e tend to think of ancient Roman houses as grand villas. But of course most people lived in much more basic accommodation, and this insula features examples of the small rooms or flats that ordinary people might have rented at the height of the empire. The block is five storeys high, the first three of which housed shops; there were individual rooms on the fourth floor, and what looks like an apartment on the fifth. It’s an amazing insight into the urban lives of individuals nearly two millennia ago. Shushma Malik is Onassis Classics Fellow at Newnham College, University of Cambridge, and author of The Nero-Antichrist: Founding and Fashioning a Paradigm (Cambridge University Press, 2020). She was talking to Paul Bloomfield, travel journalist and host of our new podcast series, History’s Greatest Cities. Listen to the companion podcast on Rome or explore the entire series
In this series exploring the sights and stories of Europe’s most beautiful, intriguing and historic cities, historian Shushma Malik charts the rise, fall and resurgence of Italy’s capital
In episode three of this new series exploring the sights and stories of Europe’s most beautiful, intriguing and historic cities, travel journalist Paul Bloomfield is joined by classicist Dr Shushma Malik for a quick trip round Rome. Together they lead us through the rise, fall and resurgence of the remarkable city, stopping off at awe-inspiring monuments from the Roman Republic, medieval marvels and fascinating modern landmarks. Along the way, Shushma busts myths about the ancient Romans and offers some top advice for history-loving travellers. Explore the series so far – Listen to all episodes of History's Greatest Cities
Everything you wanted to know about the Roman emperors
How many emperors were there? What powers did they have? And were they as outrageous and scandalous as we think? Shushma Malik answers the key questions about the Roman emperors
Who was the first Roman emperor? Having emerged victorious from the ruins of the Triumvirate by 31 BC, Octavian, the adopted son of Julius Caesar, became the undisputed ruler of the Roman Republic. In 27 BC, he was granted the titles of ‘princeps’ (meaning ‘first citizen’) and ‘Augustus’ (‘revered), with the latter soon taken up as a title. As such, Augustus became the first Roman emperor. “He had handed back all of the extraordinary powers that he had during the civil war period,” says Dr Shushma Malik, speaking on an episode of the HistoryExtra podcast. “But the Senate gave him those powers back, and he was able to establish over a long period of time a new system of government in Rome, known as the principate.” Augustus ruled until his death in AD 14, and greatly expanded Roman territory, but he shrewdly maintained the façade of the republic and constitutional forms so as not to be regarded as a dictator. In all but name, however, he was building a monarchy. “We can’t necessarily say that dynastic succession was going to be automatic, but certainly from early on Augustus was thinking about who might succeed him,” says Dr Malik. “When he became ill, he handed powers to various people, including Agrippa, his friend, so there does seem to be a sense that there was going to be a transfer of power rather than, say, the Senate taking control again.” How many emperors were there? “That is a complicated question to answer with a straightforward number,” stresses Dr Malik. “I have a poster on my office door of the Roman emperors and that has 72, but the reason why it’s difficult is because there were quite a number of usurpers claiming to be emperors, particularly in the third century AD.” The issue lies in judging the legitimacy of each one. They may have had the backing of their own armies, their own spheres of influence in various parts of the empire, and their alleged reigns sometimes lasted only a few months, even days. The sources need to be scrutinised too: we tend to know more about the earlier emperors – the Julio-Claudian dynasty of Augustus, Tiberius, Caligula, Claudius and Nero – as the records are more reliable (in relative terms), such as the writings of historian Tacitus. Rethinking Nero: was the Roman emperor really so bad? “And then there’s the so-called ‘fall’ of the Roman empire in the West, normally dated to the fifth century,” Dr Malik stresses. Should the count end there? If so, the last emperor is generally held to be Romulus Augustulus. “In the east, the Roman empire becomes the Byzantine empire, and that goes all the way down to 1453 and the fall of Constantinople. So, it’s tricky – but I’ll stick with 72.” How much power did they have? The emperor held ultimate power in political, legal, financial, military and religious matters. While the Senate continued to function and played a significant role in the administration of Rome and the empire, authority was firmly in the hands of the emperor. When not on campaign, they would be praised for attending the Senate and being proactively involved in politics, says Dr Malik, as long as they were taking good counsel from the right people, such as established politicians. Claudius, for example, was criticised for taking the advice of women and freedmen over senators. And power could only be wielded effectively by those with an interest to do so. During his reign, Nero left Rome for over a year to perform as an actor in Greece. “In terms of the administration of the empire, the Senate played a big role as many provinces had senators as their governors,” says Dr Malik. They would write directly to the emperor to petition for assistance or advice, but generally they could rule with a degree of autonomy. What did emperors wear? While this may not seem the most pressing of questions, there was a politics to an emperor’s dress. Their tunics and togas were a way of showing how they conducted themselves. The historian Suetonius describes Augustus as wearing “common clothes for the house made by his sister, his wife, daughter or granddaughters. His togas were neither close nor full, and his purple stripe neither narrowed or broad.” In other words, he was ready to work and not focused on how he looked. Compare that to Suetonius’s account of Nero, who was “utterly shameless in the care of his person and in his dress, always having his hair arranged in tiers of curls… he often appeared in public in a dining robe with a handkerchief bound about his neck, ungirt and unshod.” Were they as outrageously decadent as their reputations suggest? “A little bit, maybe, but probably not,” says Dr Malik. “I’m not saying that emperors didn’t like luxury, they absolutely did. Some of the great stories about Nero, from writers like Pliny the Elder, are about the different bits of finery that he collected or the gems he had. He would sometimes watch performances through a different coloured gem so that he could have different sensory experiences. “But I think we have to be wary. In ancient Rome, luxury was the device with which to criticise politicians, emperors, whomever it might be. Cicero criticised Mark Antony in his speeches through his alleged love of luxury. It was associated with the idea of monarchy, so accusations of excess was one of the ways that Roman writers described an emperor as pushing that bit too far. Think of Caligula, Elagabalus and Nero: they really pushed the boundaries of absolute power, and their love of luxury was a way to show that.” How did Rome survive so long given the tumultuous reigns of some emperors? It helped that Augustus had a long principate, from 27 BC to AD 14, which allowed him to consolidate his position and lay the groundwork for those who came after him. “Claudius (AD 41-54) and Nero (AD 54-68) also had a fairly good amount of time to keep things fairly stable, even though it might not seem like it from the accounts,” adds Dr Malik. It's worth noting that the historical records relating to the Julio-Claudian emperors were not contemporary with their reigns. The historians Tacitus and Suetonius were writing a generation later, for instance, while Cassius Dio lived in the second and third centuries AD. The scandalous stories about the likes of Caligula and Nero need to be carefully considered, therefore. That is not to say they don’t deserve their reputations. But it must be remembered that the histories also focussed on what was happening in Rome itself; the centre, where the personalities of the emperors mattered most. Their behaviours were less important around the empire, where local administration was in place. As Dr Malik puts it: “When we think about how the Romans ruled the empire, it was possible to have these eclectic figures and not necessarily threaten the system itself.” Who are some of the emperors that should be better known? “Emperor Aurelian (reigned 270-75 AD),” suggests Dr Malik. “You may have heard of him because the Aurelian Wall is still there in Rome, but during his reign we get the revolt of Zenobia, queen of Palmyra in Syria. She took the opportunity to go on a campaign and expand her territory, conquering parts of the Roman province of Arabia and annexing Egypt. Eventually, she was defeated by Aurelian and taken to Rome as a prisoner. It’s one of the most interesting episodes in history that also includes a woman of considerable power.” There is also Septimius Severus, often known as the first African emperor. Born in Leptis Magna, in modern-day Libya, he emerged victorious from a period of civil war in the late second century and founded his own dynasty. He was regularly on campaign, even travelling to Britain, and established the province of Mesopotamia. “His wife Julia Domna was really fascinating as well,” says Dr Malik. “The literature from this period is so rich, partly owing to her patronage. And it was her side of the family that the next emperors come from.” Did emperors’ wives have any particular powers? While they had no formal powers, the wives of emperors could be granted honours and titles, such as ‘Augusta’ or ‘mater castrorum’ (meaning ‘mother of the camp’). This was bestowed on Julia Domna, who was seen as a maternal figure to the soldiers. Then there are the soft powers that imperial women could wield, although Dr Malik points out that these were not cause for praise but something to be accused of. “These were portrayed as more of a negative thing, to be levied by historians on women seen as too influential.” From whispering in their husbands’ ears to controlling access, some wives were able to build influence. An example comes from the reign of Claudius. According to Tacitus, a man named Valerius Asiaticus was put on trial for treason, but at the request of Claudius’s wife Messalina. The reason Tacitus gives it because she wanted his beautiful gardens of Lucullus; if he was found guilty, his property would be seized. “This was a good example of how women were accused of having more power than they should by Roman historians, who, of course, had a very Roman perspective of the evils and untrustworthiness of women.” Who is considered the best Roman emperor? The worst Roman emperor remains a hotly contested title – with Caligula, Nero, Domitian and Commodus regularly put forward – but there was an emperor named as ‘optimus princeps’ (‘best ruler’) by the Senate while he still lived: Trajan (reigned AD 98-117). “He was portrayed as fair and just; he had the military side and was a good administrator; and he struck the right balance of respect for the Senate and taking an interest in things in Rome,” says Dr Malik. He also threw these spectacular games, lasting 123 days, to mark his conquest of Dacia. “He has an interesting legacy. In the late-sixth century, Pope Gregory apparently prayed that Trajan should be taken out of limbo and be allowed to die again, this time as a Christian. So the prayers allow for a sort of resurrection. This then leads to Dante, when he wrote Divine Comedy, to let Trajan into paradise.”
Shushma Malik, Marta Garcia and Yehudah Gershon reveal what corruption was like in the ancient world
What was corruption like in the ancient world – and how can studying it help us make sense of shady dealings in the 21st century? Matt Elton speaks to Shushma Malik, Marta Garcia and Yehudah Gershon – three researchers behind a new project to reveal more about the murkier side of ancient Greece and Rome.
Marcus Aurelius: Rome’s reluctant killer
Marcus Aurelius may not have sought war, but when it came he was more than ready. Shushma Malik reveals how a man of peace became one of Rome’s greatest warrior-emperors
It was the campaign season of AD 172, and one of Emperor Marcus Aurelius’s legions found itself staring into the face of disaster. After a series of hard-fought battles along the Roman empire’s north-eastern borders, the Roman soldiers found themselves holed up in enemy territory surrounded by a hostile group known as the Quadi. The legion put up a good fight but it had a problem: a chronic lack of water. The Quadi were confident that, if they kept the enemy enclosed, thirst would soon overcome them. And the Quadi’s confidence appeared to be justified. The sun beat down unrelentingly. Water began to run out. “The Romans,” Cassius Dio tells us, “were in a terrible plight from fatigue, wounds, the heat of the sun, and thirst, and so could neither fight nor retreat.” But then something remarkable happened: as if by some divine intervention, a storm broke over the beleaguered legion. Soon, so much rain was tumbling from the skies that the Roman soldiers were able to fill their shields and helmets with water and quench their horses’ thirst. As for the Quadi, they were assailed by a barrage of hailstones, lightning and thunderbolts. Such was the assault from the heavens on their ranks that some of the Quadi abandoned their own side and went over to join the Romans. The threat to Marcus Aurelius’s trapped legion was averted. But who or what was responsible for the “rain miracle”, as this dramatic episode in Marcus Aurelius’s 19-year reign as Roman emperor is now known? Cassius Dio says it can be accounted for by the invocations of Arnuphis, an Egyptian magician who had caused Mercury (the god of the air) to send rain to the legion’s aid. Other sources disagree. But whatever the veracity of Dio’s claim, the “rain miracle” offers us a fascinating window into the remarkable life of Marcus Aurelius. Here was a leader forced to face down a succession of deadly threats from the moment he assumed power in AD 161 to the day he died in AD 180. Unrest on the borders with Parthia in the east, wars on the banks of the Rhine and Danube in the north, a violent uprising headed by one of his governors: all threatened to pitch the empire into chaos. Yet Marcus Aurelius successfully negotiated them all. The irony is that today, 1,900 years after his birth, Marcus Aurelius is relatively little known for his wars. The greater irony still is that, when Marcus Aurelius is recalled in the 21st century, it is chiefly as the first true philosopher-emperor, the man who wrote a collection of personal notes and ideas on Stoic philosophy known as the Meditations. As a result, one of Rome’s prolific warrior-emperors has gone down in history as a man of peace. Marcus’s interest in philosophy is undeniable. He spent his formative years immersed in study and, as well as developing a keen interest in Stoicism, he was well versed in the works of rival schools, including those of Plato, Aristotle, and Epicurus. How to live the most virtuous life possible while also participating in imperial politics was something he often debated. But the fact is, the violent two decades in which Marcus ruled left him little choice but to take up the sword. The monumental column erected in Rome shortly after his death emphasises the brutality of the conflicts in which he was embroiled. Marcus Aurelius may not have been a natural-born warrior, but the facts suggest that he was willing to lead his armies from the front – and did so successfully. TIMELINE: The life of Marcus Aurelius AD 121 Marcus Aurelius is born to parents Marcus Annius Verus and Domitia Lucilla. 138 Marcus is adopted by Antoninus Pius. Shortly after, on the death of Hadrian, Antoninus Pius becomes emperor. 161 Marcus becomes co-emperor with Lucius Verus. His wife, Faustina, gives birth to twins, one of whom dies in 165. 168 As plague ravages Rome, Marcus and Lucius head north. They station themselves in Aquileia at the tip of the Adriatic. 169 Lucius Verus dies, possibly of plague. Marcus Aurelius is now Rome’s sole emperor. c170 The Quadi and Marcomanni invade north Italy and lay siege to Aquileia. 171–74 Marcus leads a series of campaigns against, and diplomatic negotiations with, groups from the other side of the Rhine and Danube. One of his legions is saved by the “rain miracle”. 175 Avidius Cassius, governor of Syria, rebels, but is killed by a centurion loyal to Marcus. 180 Marcus Aurelius dies on the northern frontier and is succeeded by his son Commodus. Modesty and manliness Marcus Aurelius was born in Rome in AD 121 to Marcus Annius Verus and the younger Domitia Lucilla. His maternal grandmother, the elder Domitia Lucilla, was extremely wealthy, and the younger Lucilla inherited much of the family’s fortune. Marcus Aurelius’s father could boast of senators and consuls among his ancestors. But for all that, Marcus was not the product of one of Rome’s most prominent lines. Marcus lost his father at a young age, after which he was adopted by his grandfather, also Marcus Annius Verus. Marcus Aurelius writes about the influence of his relatives in the first book of his Meditations. From his grandfather, he learned “nobility of character and evenness of temper”, and from the reputation of his father he acquired “modesty and manliness”. His mother taught him “piety and generosity, and to abstain not only from doing wrong but even from contemplating such an act; and the simplicity, too, of her way of life, far removed from that of the rich”. The young Marcus caught the attention of the ruling emperor Hadrian quickly, probably owing to his grandfather’s status. In AD 126, Annius Verus had been appointed consul for the third time, making him the first man to be awarded this honour by Hadrian. When Marcus was six, Hadrian nominated him to be enrolled into the equestrian order, and at seven years old Marcus was enrolled into the priestly college of the Salii by the emperor. Yet the emperor’s patronage of Marcus wasn’t to end there. Not long before his death in AD 138, Hadrian adopted Aurelius Antoninus, the son-in-law of Marcus’s grandfather, as his successor. At the same time, he required Antoninus to adopt Marcus and the young aristocrat Lucius Verus as his own heirs. Marcus’s future now lay on the imperial throne. When Hadrian died in AD 138, Antoninus became emperor (as Antoninus Pius) and Marcus married the new ruler’s daughter, Faustina. Marcus held his adoptive father in the highest regard, writing in his Meditations that he was gentle, just and modest, “put[ting] a curb on public acclimation and every kind of flattery during his reign”. Antoninus Pius’s reign saw little significant warfare, and the emperor chose to stay close to Rome. The sources suggest that Marcus Aurelius might have been happier presiding over a similar period of imperial peace, but he was not to be so lucky. In AD 161, Emperor Antoninus Pius died and was succeeded by Marcus and Lucius Verus as joint rulers (Rome’s first co-emperors). That same year, the Parthian king Vologaeses III (or IV) invaded Armenia and installed his own king, Pacorus, in the Roman-protected territory. In response to this act of aggression, the co-emperors reasoned that one of them needed to go to the eastern border in person. They decided upon Lucius Verus, but our two main literary sources diverge on the reasons why. Cassius Dio (who began his political career during the reign of Marcus Aurelius’s son Commodus) suggests that Marcus was too physically weak for military duty, whereas Lucius was 10 years younger and full of vigour. The author of the Historia Augusta (probably writing in the fifth century) says Marcus sent Lucius away to fight because he was worried about his adopted brother’s natural tendency towards vice, and thought that the fear of war would do him good. If the latter was the case, Marcus’s plan did not go quite as he envisaged, as Lucius lingered in Greece and coastal towns in Asia Minor to enjoy entertainments such as gladiatorial spectacles and hunting. However, once he’d set up headquarters in Antioch, Lucius oversaw a series of victories over the Parthians – and returned to Rome in triumph. For their efforts in putting down the uprising, both emperors were awarded the “civic crown” by the senate (for having saved citizens’ lives) and given the title pater patriae (father of the fatherland). Listen | Shushma Malik explores the life and career of Rome’s renowned philosopher-emperor Marcus Aurelius Wagons for the dead The combination of Marcus Aurelius handling matters of politics, law and administration at home and Lucius Verus overseeing military activity on the frontier seems to have worked well against the Parthians. But the jubilation did not last for long. Sometime in the late AD 160s, plague (now known as the Antonine plague) had been introduced to Rome, possibly by troops returning from Mesopotamia. The author of the Historia Augusta describes a scene of chaos and destruction in the city as the “dead were removed in carts and wagons”. Both emperors remained in the imperial capital for as long as they could to manage the tragedy. Nevertheless, in the spring of AD 168, they set off towards the north, and for a time used Aquileia at the northern tip of the Adriatic as a base from which to go back and forth to the frontier. Then, in early AD 169, calamity struck: Lucius was taken sick in his carriage and died three days later (possibly a victim of plague). Marcus took his dead co-emperor’s body back to Rome for burial. In late summer 169, he headed back to the front as the sole emperor. Campaigning began again after the winter of 169–70 had passed. The remaining evidence makes it hard to put together a clear narrative of events, but a fourth-century historian, Ammianus Marcellinus, suggests that two more enemy groups, the aforementioned Quadi and the Marcomanni, invaded Italy and laid siege to Aquileia. Not since the days of Hannibal during the wars between Rome and Carthage in the third century BC had Italy experienced a foreign military so close to home. But Marcus Aurelius was up to the challenge. By late 171, the Romans, now led by Marcus in person, appear to have pushed the invaders far enough back to celebrate a military triumph. Coins were minted in Rome bearing the personification of Victory on the reverse, along with the inscription VIC GER (victory over the Germans, ie the Marcomanni). Marcus Aurelius remained in Pannonia to receive embassies from the different groups. The Quadi were ready to make peace, and Marcus granted their request in the hope that it would separate them from the Marcomanni. Other groups were granted similar treaties and possibly even settled in Italy, but the Marcomanni in particular remained a potential threat. And so, in AD 172 – the year of the “rain miracle” – Marcus and his army went on the offensive, into the territory on the other side of the Danube. Coins minted in Rome show troops crossing over a bridge. Marcus’s willingness to negotiate with the Quadi and others was in line with his fair treatment of the enemy, or so Cassius Dio suggests. But even a ruler as apparently even-handed as Marcus Aurelius was moved to rage when the Quadi failed to keep to the terms of their agreement. So furious was Marcus with the backsliding of the Quadi’s new king, Ariogaesus, that he issued an uncharacteristically splenetic outburst “to the effect that anyone who brought him in alive should receive a thousand gold pieces, and anyone who slew him and exhibited his head, 500”. Sick on campaign Marcus’s next major challenge came not from an enemy across the Rhine or Danube, but from another Roman. In AD 175, such was Marcus’s successes against the Marcomanni and the Quadi that he was in a position to turn their territory into a new Roman province. But the emperor had to abandon his plans when he heard that the governor of Syria, Avidius Cassius, had rebelled. The sources suggest that Cassius’s insurrection was prompted by Marcus’s wife, Faustina, because she feared that Marcus had become sick on campaign and was on the point of death (or had possibly already died). Faustina feared that her 13-year-old son, Commodus, was too young to succeed and may have reasoned that it was better for her to remarry before Marcus’s death, so she could protect Commodus from usurpers. The veracity of this story is questioned by the author of the Historia Augusta, who cites letters between Marcus Aurelius and Faustina that vindicate the empress. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2021/07/GettyImages-122218611-892d3b0.jpg" width="784" height="1024" alt="Faustina, Marcus Aurelius’s wife" title="Faustina, Marcus Aurelius’s wife, was accused of engineering an uprising against her husband – a charge often levelled against the female members of imperial families. (Photo By DEA / G. DAGLI ORTI/De Agostini via Getty Images)" /> While it is difficult to know whether the letters are genuine, it’s certainly common for the female members of imperial families to come under suspicion when ancient historians assign blame for conspiracies. Either way, Cassius was received as emperor in Egypt in May 175. This was a truly perilous development for Marcus, as it was from Egypt that Rome sourced most of its grain supply. Marcus now summoned Commodus to join him and prepared for a civil war. Cassius Dio then records a speech (which he claims was also sent to the senate) that Marcus delivered to his troops, whom he addresses as his “fellow soldiers”. He expressed regret that so many wars had been conducted during his reign and that civil war had become a threat. He urged the troops that the best course of action, should Cassius be captured, would be “to forgive a man who has wronged one, to remain a friend to one who has transgressed friendship, to continue faithful to one who has broken faith”. But Marcus was not afforded this opportunity to show mercy. As his soldiers were about to depart, news was brought that Cassius had been killed by a centurion named Antonius. With the help of a cavalry officer, Antonius had stabbed Cassius in the neck, and then cut off his head to present to Marcus. The emperor refused to look at the head and had it buried. With civil war averted, a significant part of Marcus’s final years was spent back on those same northern borders, protecting his empire from further violent incursions. It was as the campaign season was about to begin in AD 180 that Marcus became seriously ill. He died in March of that year, at the age of 58. In his Meditations, Marcus stresses the importance of accepting death for what he thinks it is – the decisive end not only of a life, but also of a reputation. “Never cease to observe how evanescent are all things human, and how worthless: today a drop of mucus, and tomorrow a mummy or a pile of ash.” Instead, he counselled, a person must live in the present, paying attention to make sure they lead the best and most virtuous life possible at any given moment. On a day-to-day basis, Marcus did what he thought he had to do for Rome as its emperor – he managed the administration the best he could, and he steered the troops to and from the front. His focus on present life over enduring reputation perhaps indicates his uneasiness with the violent reality of war. Yet for him, as emperor in the turbulent 160s and 170s AD, conflict was unavoidable. Marcus’s words seek to reassure himself and others that people – even rulers of a mighty empire – can only play the hand they are dealt by divine reason. Shushma Malik is a lecturer in the School of Humanities at the University of Roehampton This article first appeared in the June 2021 issue of BBC History Magazine
Shushma Malik explores the life and career of Rome’s renowned philosopher-emperor Marcus Aurelius
Classicist Shushma Malik explores the life and career of Rome’s renowned philosopher-emperor Marcus Aurelius, and explains how his greatest achievements may have been on the field of battle.
The Roman emperors: everything you wanted to know
Everything you wanted to know about history (podcast series)
Shushma Malik discusses some of the most admired and reviled Roman emperors, and considers whether the legends surrounding them stand up to scrutiny
In the latest in our series tackling the big questions on major historical topics, historian Shushma Malik responds to your questions on some of the most admired and reviled Roman emperors, and considers whether the legends surrounding them stand up to scrutiny.
Rethinking Nero: was the Roman emperor really so bad?
For centuries Emperor Nero has occupied a place in history’s hall of infamy, courtesy of tales of Christian burning, wife beating and mother murdering. Yet does he truly deserve his diabolical reputation? Shushma Malik considers the evidence
In the late 19th century, the French philosopher Ernest Renan wrote a seven-volume history of Christianity. It was a vast, wide-ranging publication, spanning centuries and continents. Yet one of these volumes was dedicated entirely to the reign of one man: the Roman emperor Nero. Nero ascended to power in AD 54 following the death of his step-father, Claudius. Fourteen chaotic, blood-spattered years later it was all over, Nero dying – perhaps by his own hand – at the climax of a rebellion against his rule. But this, Renan said, wasn’t the last the world would see of him. Nero would return to Earth again, and his second coming would signal the time of the apocalypse. “The name for Nero has been found,” the philosopher declared. “Nero shall be the Antichrist.” Listen | Roman historian Shushma Malik discusses the infamous crimes of the emperor Nero and considers whether he is deserving of his monstrous reputation Renan’s assertion was a bold one, but it was hardly original. Historians had been casting Nero as the epitome of evil – stitching a straight line between Rome’s fifth emperor and the end of the world – since the third century. And their lambasting of his reputation has stuck: today, everyone with an interest in ancient history ‘knows’ that Nero was one of the worst of all Rome’s emperors. But is what everyone ‘knows’ true? Surely, before accepting history’s verdict, we should re-examine the sources, and ask ourselves what motivated the emperor’s many detractors, and how material evidence can help to flesh out the picture. Only then can we answer the question of why Nero’s reputation is so utterly dismal – and indeed if his diabolical image is entirely deserved. Mutilated by dogs There are a number of reasons why, for almost 2,000 years, historians have lined up to denigrate Nero. But the most important is surely that his reign saw the first persecution of the Christians. In AD 64, a fire ripped through Rome, devastating 10 of its 14 districts. After the conflagration, Nero embarked on an ambitious rebuilding programme – one that, according to the Roman historian Tacitus, he tackled with such gusto that many Romans soon suspected that he’d ordered the fire to be started in the first place. Did Nero really play a fiddle when Rome burned? Nero sought to quell these rumours and, to do that, he needed a scapegoat. That, Tacitus tells us, is where the Christians came in. For the crime of starting the fire, Nero punished this already unpopular religious sect by setting up a display in his own gardens at which the condemned were mutilated and killed by dogs. Another punishment saw the victims fixed to crucifixes and set alight to burn as lamps at night. This truly horrific account understandably grabbed the attention of early Christians. When a noblewoman named Algasia asked Jerome (who translated the Bible into Latin in the early fifth century) to interpret the “man of lawlessness” (the Antichrist figure) in Paul’s 2 Thessalonians, his reply was emphatic: “Nero, the impurest of the Caesars oppresses the world.” However, the burning of Christians was far from the only event in Nero’s reign to earn him the title Antichrist. The fifth-century historian Sulpicius Severus wrote that the emperor “showed himself in every way most abominable and cruel, and at length even went so far as to be the murderer of his own mother”. Here, Sulpicius borrows from earlier, non-Christian historians to demonstrate the depth of Nero’s iniquity. And those historians gave Christian writers like Sulpicius a lot of material to work with. Our three main historical accounts for Nero’s life come from Tacitus (writing a generation after Nero’s death), Suetonius (a contemporary of Tacitus), and Cassius Dio (writing a couple of generations later than the other two). All three writers invariably describe Nero as a violent fratricide, matricide and uxoricide (wife-killer). They accuse the emperor of murdering his step-brother Britannicus for fear that he might usurp his position, and of having his mother, Agrippina, put to death because she was too overbearing. He was also responsible for the demise of two of his three wives: the first, Octavia, because he had fallen for a woman called Poppaea; the second was Poppaea herself, kicked to death in a fit of rage. Another of Nero’s ‘crimes’ was to be a lover of all things Greek. While Greek tradition played an important role in Rome (young elite males were often sent to Greece to be educated by the best orators), to be too enamoured with the culture was seen as a weakness. Romans, it was believed, should prefer Roman activities such as politics and war. Unfortunately, the Nero we read about far preferred the theatre and sexual promiscuity. Not only did Nero enjoy watching theatrical performances, he also loved appearing in them – which he did for the first time in Naples in AD 64. In Rome, actors were predominately at the bottom of the social ladder. This made the emperor’s wish to take to the stage all the more scandalous. Just as damning was Nero’s obsession with opulence. This was exemplified by his Golden House, which was so named for the profusion of precious metals, gems and artworks that adorned it. While emperors were allowed to flaunt their wealth and status, Nero, it was widely believed, had taken it way too far. Did Caligula really make his horse a senator? If Nero’s ostentation offended Romans’ sense of propriety, the allegations that he had entered into ‘mock’ marriages with two men were considered by many to be beyond the pale. The first of these spouses, Sporus, became Nero’s wife, but the second, known as either Doryphorus (‘spear-bearer’) or Pythagoras, he took as a husband. Nero and Pythagoras “devised a kind of game”, Suetonius tells us, “in which, covered with the skin of some wild animal, he [Nero] was let loose from a cage and attacked the private parts of men and women, who were bound to stakes”. Such rumours simply confirmed what many Romans already suspected: that Nero was a cruel, feckless libertine who undermined Roman values in his enthusiasm for a life of depravity and dissolution. Not the full picture The evidence against Nero appears overwhelming. But before accepting history’s devastating verdict, we should acknowledge that Tacitus, Suetonius and Dio’s evidence is full of holes. At best, the picture they paint is only partially complete. What we must remember when reading these stories is that our surviving sources were written by authors who had never met Nero – men who were either very young, or yet to be born, when the emperor ruled. None of these men were writing contemporary history – and all had their own reasons for sticking in the knife. Tacitus and Suetonius both began their careers during the dynasty that followed the Julio-Claudians, the Flavians, and were likely writing at some point in the reigns of Trajan (98–117) and Hadrian (117–138) respectively. This lapse in time is crucial: it made the Julio-Claudian period a safe(r) space for writers to explore the strengths and weaknesses of Rome’s imperial system. And while Tacitus’s verdict on Nero was undeniably negative, it has to be noted that none of the Julio-Claudians come out of his Annals particularly well. Tacitus trained his focus on the fields of politics and war. He was scathing of the sycophantic senators who acquiesced in Nero’s whims, and he used the Roman general Corbulo, whom Nero sent to Armenia to battle the Parthians, to highlight the inadequacies in military matters of the emperor and those close to him. Your guide to the fall of Rome and the collapse of the Roman Empire Suetonius, by contrast, was largely uninterested in the war in Armenia. He preferred to address Nero’s lust for violence, love of luxury and sexual proclivities – as his description of the emperor’s bedroom antics with Pythagoras proves. This approach provides colourful anecdotes but it poses a problem for historians attempting to get somewhere near the truth. Suetonius must rely on hearsay and rumours for his evidence, some of which, he claims, were still circulating in his own time. While senate affairs were officially recorded, what Nero got up to in the confines of his palace was not. Cassius Dio wrote his accounts of Nero even later than Suetonius and Tacitus – he began his career in Rome as a young senator during the reign of Commodus (177–192) – yet it is to him that we must turn for our only detailed account of Nero’s trip to Greece. Dio, in contrast to our other writers, does not see Nero as a lover of Greece, but rather as someone who tormented the province with his presence. The sight of an emperor on stage was tortuous enough, but Dio’s Nero truly plumbed the depths, executing a large number of leading men and women and instructing their families to gift half of their inherited property to Rome. In short, he ‘waged war’ on Greece. For and against Tacitus, Suetonius and Dio all bring something different to our understanding of Nero. And, when viewed together, they are utterly damning. But we should also acknowledge that, in antiquity, they would have made up a mere fraction of the accounts of Nero’s life available. In the late first century, after Nero’s death, the Jewish historian Josephus told his readers that there were many different assessments of Nero’s reign circulating at that time. Some were extremely complimentary about the emperor. Sadly, these have been lost, and the only histories still available to us are overwhelmingly hostile. So if we are to accept the limitations of Roman histories of Nero, how else are we to paint an accurate picture of this most notorious of emperors? One tactic adopted by historians – especially in recent years – is to examine his actions in the context of his times. Were his ‘crimes’ typical of those committed by first-century emperors? Or was he an abominable outlier? Take the much-derided Golden House. While its massive dimensions and eye-watering opulence have drawn criticism, Tiberius’s villa at the coastal town of Sperlonga, Caligula’s residence at the Horti Lamiani (atop Rome’s Esquiline Hill), and Claudius’s nymphaeum at Baiae (on the Gulf of Naples) were precursors to Nero’s indulgence. It’s true that Nero out-did his predecessors when building his palace in Rome – but outdoing his predecessors was exactly what a Roman emperor was meant to do. If the Golden House was an extravagant folly, the allegation that Nero killed his wife Poppaea by kicking her while she was pregnant is far more shocking. Yet, once again, it is not anomalous. This episode conforms to an ancient literary convention used to describe tyrannical murders. The Achaemenid king Cambyses, Corinthian tyrant Periander and Greco-Roman senator Herodes Atticus were all accused of bringing about their wives’ deaths with a kick to the belly. In short, we should not interpret the story of Poppaea’s death in isolation – as a uniquely evil act committed by a uniquely evil emperor – but recognise it as one of the ways in which literature described the unexpected deaths of pregnant women. In bed with the Romans: a brief history of sex in Ancient Rome Another factor to bear in mind when considering Nero’s dire reputation, is that the Roman empire was enormous, and not all of its residents would have been influenced by the written sources. While Rome and parts of Italy were privy to the salacious gossip circulating around the cities, those further away encountered Nero primarily through coins, inscriptions and statues – and these often deliver a far more positive verdict. One such can be found on the eastern side of the Parthenon in Athens. Carved into the stone of what is arguably antiquity’s most celebrated monument is an inscription hailing Nero as the greatest imperator (general) and the son of a God (ie the deified Claudius). This is high praise indeed and was probably inspired by Rome’s military gains in Armenia against the Parthians. Later, in Boeotia (also Greece) a memorial was erected to commemorate Nero’s tour of Achaea in AD 66–68, during which he declared that the province no longer had to pay taxes. The accompanying inscription declared that Nero was doing something for Greece that no other emperor had ever done; he is Zeus the Liberator and the New Apollo. While the people of Rome were obsessing over whom Nero was sleeping with and the grim details of his wife’s death, those in Greece were more likely celebrating his military prowess and their tax breaks. And if Nero was the ogre of the popular imagination, that fact had not reached the owner of a Neronian coin minted in Lugdunum (Lyon), which decorated a buried mirror box. Even though the box was interred after Nero’s downfall, the coin was still considered beautiful and precious enough to accompany someone to their grave. As late as the fifth century AD, the emperor’s image was staring out from medallions given to people as souvenirs at the Circus Maximus in Rome. In fact, for a period, his image appeared more frequently than that of any other emperor. What does all this tell us? The answer is that our traditional image of Nero doesn’t necessarily represent the full picture. That, though the emperor undoubtedly committed terrible crimes, he was both loved and loathed. And that, while Tacitus, Suetonius and Dio viewed him as evil personified, many people appear to have thought quite the opposite. Dr Shushma Malik is a lecturer in classics at the University of Roehampton. Her book The Nero-Antichrist: Founding and Fashioning a Paradigm was published by CUP in March This article was first published in the August 2020 edition of BBC History Magazine
Shushma Malik discusses Nero’s crimes and considers whether he is deserving of his monstrous reputation
Roman historian Shushma Malik discusses the infamous crimes of the emperor Nero and considers whether he is deserving of his monstrous reputation