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We, here, at Classical Wisdom like to address the important stuff. We strive to tackle big issues, philosophical inquiries and historical investigations.
We also like to have a good time.
That’s why wine exists (in moderation, of course).
But it’s not just something to do… or consume… it’s been literally interwoven into innumerable cultures and histories… for thousands of years!
In fact, the earliest evidence of wine is from ancient China (7000 BC), Georgia (6000 BC), Iran (5000 BC)… and Sicily (4000 BC).
Which brings us to our philosophical inquiry of the day:
Is there an art to drinking alcohol? Can drinking ever be a virtue?
In turns out, the Renaissance humanist and neoclassical poet Vincent Obsopoeus (ca. 1498–1539) thought so.
Let me explain… In the winelands of sixteenth-century Germany, he witnessed the birth of a poisonous new culture of bingeing, hazing, peer pressure, and competitive drinking (actions that would make a frat boy blush!)
Alarmed, and inspired by the Roman poet Ovid’s Art of Love, he wrote The Art of Drinking (De Arte Bibendi) (1536), a how-to manual for drinking with pleasure and discrimination.
But don’t worry, you don’t have to find a rare book store or brush up on your Latin to enjoy this gem.
Fortunately for you, Michael Fontaine, Professor of Classics at Cornell University and one our Symposium’s Keynote speakers, has done all the hard work.
In How to Drink, Michael Fontaine offers the first proper English translation of Obsopoeus’s text, rendering his poetry into spirited, contemporary prose and uncorking a forgotten classic that will appeal to drinkers of all kinds and (legal) ages.
Arguing that moderation, not abstinence, is the key to lasting sobriety, and that drinking can be a virtue if it is done with rules and limits, Obsopoeus teaches us how to manage our drinking, how to win friends at social gatherings, and how to give a proper toast.
But he also says that drinking to excess on occasion is okay―and he even tells us how to win drinking games, citing extensive personal experience.
But wait! There’s More!
All Classical Wisdom Symposium Attendees will get an additional 30% OFF “How to Drink” as well as free shipping!
Written by Edward Whelan, Contributing Writer, Classical Wisdom
We often regard the Greeks as the epitome of Civilizations. However, before the great achievement of the Fifth Century BC in Athens and elsewhere, they underwent a period of decline and dislocation. For over three centuries Greece endured a Dark Age when cities were abandoned and society collapsed. However, out of this grim period there emerged trends that contributed to the glories of Greece Civilization.
The Collapse of Mycenae Civilization
Before 1200 BC, what is now modern Greece was dominated by the Mycenaeans. They are regarded as early Greeks and they were a warrior, people. Based on their archaeological remains they developed a hierarchal society. They constructed vast palaces at sites all over Greece and were renowned seafarers. The Mycenaeans were probably the source of the legends concerning the siege and fall of Troy.
Sometime about 1200 BC, the Mycenaean civilization collapsed and they abandoned their palaces. Once it was believed that another group of Greeks from the northern Balkans, the Dorians, led to their downfall. However, this has been rejected in recent years.
The fall of the Mycenaeans was probably linked to the Bronze Age Collapse when many civilizations in the Near East collapsed. This has often been blamed on the Sea-People a group of invaders. It is possible that climate change led to famines, which caused civil war and led to the collapse of the Mycenaeans.
The Mycenaeans collapse saw the end of the monumental building in Greece for centuries. Their palaces had been centers of culture and with their demise, the knowledge of their writing system known as Linear B was lost.
The material culture of the region declined as seen in the poor quality of pottery from the period. It appears that many areas of Greece and its island were depopulated and many settlements were deserted. There is some evidence that towns were abandoned and many people returned to living in remote settlements that could easily be defended.
There were no longer any more kingdoms with centralized states and bureaucracies as in the past. Now society was more likely to be based on clans who were headed by chieftains. People lived in self-sufficient households called Oikos. Archaeologists show that long-distance trade collapsed and while once the Mycenaeans had traded with other civilizations this ended from the 12th to 9th century BC.
Pockets of Civilization
While much of Greece was in the Dark Age, some areas remained urbanized and engaged in long-distance trade. Lefkandi, on the island of Euboea, was a trade and manufacturing hub and it was a large town by the standards of the time. It appears that it was a maritime power.
The Mycenaeans had colonized parts of the island of Cyprus, where there are elements of their civilization, including the use of an adapted form of Linear B. Such findings lead some experts to believe that there was no Dark Age and that Greek society was much more sophisticated than often believed.
By the 8th century, the archaeological record shows bigger settlements were increasing in size and that new towns were emerging. By this time Athens and Sparta were beginning to grow. There is evidence of more long-distance trade and manufacturing. The quality of the pottery also improved.
It appears that Greeks had many more contacts with other cultures, such as the Phoenicians. The Phoenicians were great merchants and had also developed an alphabet, a phonetic one. This was adopted by the Greeks and, as a result, they once more were able to become a literate society. Greece became quite prosperous by the 8th century and the population increased. This led to the colonization of other areas especially in Crimea and Asia Minor.
Age of Homer?
The Dark Ages saw the emergence of the poetry of Homer. He was the greatest of all Greek poets and one of the greatest poets in all the Western tradition. Traditionally, Homer is portrayed as a man who was blind.
Homer is credited with the two great epics, the Iliad and the Odyssey. These were original works of oral poetry that were based on the semi-legendary stories about a war between the Greeks and Trojans and the adventures of Odysseus in its aftermath.
Experts believe that Homer lived in the 9th century and can be seen as a figure from the Dark Age. However, he was also a forerunner of the recovery of Greek civilization in the 8th century BC. He used the Greek alphabet to set down the oral poems and created a new literary language, which greatly stimulated the growth of Hellenic culture.
The stories of the Iliad and Odyssey had a profound impact on Greek society, including its literature, art, ethics, and even mythology. Just as important, the epic poems helped to foster a sense of a common Greek heritage and identity. Homer was a critical influence in the development of Classical Greek culture.
The Mycenaeans developed a great civilization but, after the Bronze Age Collapse, it disappeared. Greece declined socially, culturally, and economically. It became a poor and backward area, and this remained the case for many centuries. However, parts of the Greek world may have continued to be advanced and prosperous. The creation of a new Greek alphabet was crucial to the ending of the Dark Ages, and the works of Homer contributed to a Renaissance in the Hellenic World.
- West, M. L. (1999). “The Invention of Homer”. The Classical Quarterly. 49 (2): 364–382
- Whitley, James (2003) Style and Society in Dark Age Greece: The Changing Face of a Pre-literate Society. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press
Written by Robert Gate, Contributing Writer, Classical Wisdom
For millennia, dogs and people have shared a close partnership. No one is still ready to claim when and where the first dog was domesticated, but it is generally accepted that it was for hunting.
Thousands of years ago, men did not have big guns to aid them in hunting or protect from wild animals – this is why they needed dogs.
Canine friends delivered and were highly appreciated. Archaeologists discovered numerous stone columns and other objects that stand as evidence of the deep tie dogs and humans share.
Stay tuned to find out all there is to know about hunting dogs in the ancient world!
Hunting Dogs in Ancient Greece
Dogs were an important part of ancient Greece. They were protectors and hunters but companions as well. The Greeks were the first to invent spiked collars to protect their canine friends from wolves.
Greek goddesses Artemis and Hecate had dogs too. Artemis, being the goddess of the hunt, used them for hunting.
As far as the literature is concerned, the most famous Greek dog was the three-headed dog Cerberus, a guardian to the gates of Hades.
King Odysseus of Ithaka (from Homer’s Odyssey) had a loyal four-legged friend too – a dog named Argos.
He was the only one to recognize his master after twenty years of absence and was over the moon to see him again. When the king ignored his joy, the dog laid down and died of sadness.
What Breeds Of Dogs Were There In Ancient Greece?
This group of dog breeds is associated with the Molossi tribe that lived in Epirus in the northwest region of Ancient Greece.
They were mostly used as guardians and herding dogs but often helped hunters take down the big game. Mastiffs are considered to be their descendants.
- The Greek Harehound
This dog breed used to be bred as a scent hound. The shorthaired black and tan dogs were mostly used to track and chase hares in the southern parts of Ancient Greece.
These small white dogs are believed to be the ancestors of most terriers and other small dog breeds we can find in modern Western Europe.
- Laconian hound (Ichnilatis Lakonias)
The Laconian hounds were used for hunting deer and hares. They were a bit slow, though, and greatly relied on their sense of smell while hunting.
- Meliteo Kinidi
These small Greek domestic dogs are a bit larger than the Alopekis and have dropped ears. They can be both long and short-haired.
The ones with long hair are more often depicted on ancient artifacts. This breed of the Hellenic dog hunts birds and small game but can be a good companion too.
- The Cretan Hound (Kritikos Ichnilatis)
Present to this day, this breed from the island of Crete is considered to be one of the oldest breeds of hunting dogs in the world.
Cretan Hounds are multi-talented dogs – quick and agile, and with exceptional scent. They are the extraordinary hare and wild rabbit hunters but have guarding instincts too.
- Greek Shepherd (Hellenikos Poimenikos)
Greek Shep is a relatively large dog, with a solid body and massive head. It can take down almost any enemy and protect the flock but can sometimes be too stubborn to train.
Hunting Dogs in Ancient Rome
The Romans had various pets, but dogs were their favorite animal companions. Just like in Greece, dogs were depicted in works of art and literature.
Famous Latin poet Virgil praised them as guardians, while the writer Varro advised that every family should have both a watchdog and a hunting dog.
The Romans even believed that dogs could protect them from the unnatural forces. Their barking could warn people of any disembodied spirit preying on them.
What Breeds Of Dogs Were There In Ancient Rome?
- Cane Corso
Cane Corso is a quite impressive dog breed that is believed to originate in what is now known as south of Italy but used to be a part of an enormous Roman Empire. They belong to the Molosser family.
These dogs have a muscular body with a prominent guarding instinct. Being fit and powerful, they could take down big animals, so they were used for big game hunting such as deer or wild boars.
They could even hamper bears. The Roman army used them in battles too, and thus they are also often referred to as the Roman dogs of war.
This energetic breed of hunting dogs is believed to have been “imported” to the Roman Empire from the area of today’s Britain.
Agassians were small in size but armed with powerful claws and even more powerful noses.
They were excellent trackers and could mark almost any airborne scent. As such, they made indispensable hunting companions.
- The Laconian greyhound
Imported from Greece, these large dogs with a small head and a long neck were mostly used for hunting. They made quite a great noise barking and chased the game vigorously.
Hunting Dogs in Ancient Egypt
Even though Ancient Egypt is often associated with cats rather than dogs, Egyptians were “dog people” as well. Egyptologists found that dogs had been domesticated in the Pre-Dynastic era of Egypt.
Egyptians used dogs as Greeks and Romans did. They were companions, but also guardians, hunters, and weapons of war.
Canines were highly regarded, and as evidence of that, there are many hounds mentioned in mortuary texts and depicted in Egyptian art.
What Breeds Of Dogs Were There In Ancient Egypt?
This breed originated in Nubia. The name of the breed translates as “dog of the villagers.” The Basenji dogs were often family pets that doubled as hunting dogs for small game or guard dogs.
Even though the Greyhound origin is not entirely sure, there is evidence that this breed lived in both Ancient Egypt and Mesopotamia.
Greyhounds were mostly used for open-area hunting of big game.
The Ibizan, regardless of its current name, is a breed of Egyptian origin. It is considered to be a ‘typical’ Egyptian dog most often represented in Egyptian art.
This leggy visitor from the dawn of civilization was used for hunting small animals such as rabbits.
Pharaoh Hound is a dog you will most probably see depicted in hunting scenes of Egyptian art. It was a breed used as a sacrifice to Egyptian deity Anubis too.
- Saluki (Sloughi breed)
This breed originated in Mesopotamia but was quite popular in Egypt later on. Salukis were used as both hunting dogs and companions.
Referred to as the dogs of the Egyptian kings, whippets were actually small and agile hunting dogs used for hunting in open terrain.
Other Hunting Dogs in the Ancient World
The best hunting dog was not easy to find in the ancient world, nor is it an easy task today.
Here are the breeds that were highly appreciated then and have survived to this very day:
- Chow Chow
Originated in Northern China (150 – 200 B.C.)
- Chinese Shar-Pei
Originated in China (206 B.C.)
Originated in Siberia (1000 B.C.)
- Alaskan Malamute
Originated in Alaska’s Norton Sound Region (around 1000 B.C)
- Afghan Hound
Originated in Afghanistan (around 6,000 B.C.)
Originated in Central Africa (around 6000 B.C.)
- Akita Inu
Originated in Japan (around 8,000 B.C.)
Written by Mary Naples, Contributing Writer, Classical Wisdom
Of how she was rounded up, the details are unknown. It would have had to occur in the dead of night. Since she was beloved, her banishment by light of day might have led to political unrest. Because she was the house of Augustus’s first exile—though mournfully not its last—a system of removal was not yet in place.
For her daughter, Agrippina the Elder, Tiberius would employ squads of Praetorian Guards to fetch her. But nothing as dramatic existed for Julia. Some believe that it may have been Livia, the iron maiden herself, who summoned Julia in the middle of the night. Long an adversary of her headstrong stepdaughter, the omniscient and omnipresent Livia played no small role in Julia’s abrupt downfall.
Likely, the charges had been building up, though according to the Princeps’ letter to the Senate, he had just “discovered” that his married daughter had committed multiple adulteries. But adultery was not her only crime. In behavior considered irreverent, the Princeps ranted that she indulged in public depravities in the forum: “from the very rostra where he had proclaimed the leges Juliae (Julian marriage laws).” That it was in the public square was a fact made much of by the ancients as a place no women should be. Not uncoincidentally the depraved acts were only performed in the dead of night, a time when no respectable citizens could verify the story.
Over the years, the most heinous and debauched acts have been attributed to her, with historians today believing them to be examples of misogynist hyperbole common in the ancient world. Although on the face of it adultery was the crime for which she paid the steep price, many argue that because of the intensity of Augustus’s wrath it may have been more personal than mere adultery. In fact, accusing women of sexual license was code for conspiratorial activity in ancient Rome.
The five men with whom Julia was linked all came from notable patrician families not least of which was Iullus Antonius, Antony’s son with Fulvia raised by the benevolent Octavia. Even though Antonius would have been more or less raised right alongside the royal family, some ancients believed that he may have long harbored ambitions to avenge his father. Perhaps the fullness of Augustus’s anger could only be explained by the discovery of a plot to depose him; the real offense not being adultery but conspiring against the regime. If true, the son of his greatest enemy linked to his daughter romantically would have been enough to send the Princeps raging.
About the liaison between Antonius and Julia, Seneca mused: “Once again a woman to be feared with an Antony.” Julia’s popularity with the people coupled with the ceaselessly favorable impression of Antony could have made them a fearsome duo. But did they, in fact, have designs on the throne? While it is easy to see why Antonius would, with both of her sons prepped for the throne what would Julia have to gain by the maneuver?
Another assessment suggests that for eminent women in ancient Rome, adultery, and conspiracy were one and the same thing. In view of this, marriage, or short of that, sexual commerce, was a means of creating vital alliances that Julia (essentially an unmarried woman) would need in order to navigate the treacherous waters surrounding her.
The ever-paranoid Princeps, deaf to his daughter’s pleas for a life of her own, chose to leave Julia in matrimonial limbo precisely because if married she was dangerous to his regime. Yet regardless of marriage, as princess, all the men in her social circle were from prominent families, many of whom could pose a threat to the house of Augustus. It would have been just a matter of time before someone as social as she was allied to at least one of them. In the wake of the denunciation, while bleak exile awaited Julia and four of the men listed in the accusation, Antonius was condemned to death.
But at least Julia had one parent with her better interests at heart. In a show of support and undying love, Scribonia accompanied her daughter into exile. After five years at Pandateria, due to persistent public outcry to return their (still) popular princess, the intractable Princeps blinked. When the boat came for her, if Julia thought she was finally returning home, she must have been greatly disappointed. With conditions slightly improved, the somber destination where she would spend the remaining eleven years of her life was Rhegium (present Reggio Calabria).
Over the years, one by one Julia would live to see her three sons die by the age of twenty-five. While accident and sudden illness officially claimed Gaius and Lucius within eighteen months of each other, after Augustus died in 14 CE, Agrippa Posthumous, by then living in exile, was summarily executed by a centurion in the employ of the new emperor, Tiberius.
As to her daughters—in a tragic example of history repeating itself—within ten years of Julia’s exile, her daughter, Julia the Younger, was charged with adultery and exiled to a penal island where she gave birth to a child that Augustus ordered exposed. She would die in exile at age forty-eight. But for Tiberius, her second daughter, Agrippina the Elder, might have been empress. Instead, she and two of her sons were sent into exile where she would ultimately die at forty-six years of age.
Invited to the party but not allowed to dance, from an early age Julia was commoditized in the interest of regency. As emperor’s daughter, her every move was dictated by the dynastic whims of a despot. After three loveless marriages and reproducing enough offspring for Augustus’s imperial ambitions, she tried to forge a life of her own. But the cards were stacked squarely against her. Though she had reason enough to wish for her father’s ousting, without due process in a court of law ancient and modern historians alike can only speculate about whether her exile was due to adultery, conspiracy, or a combination of both.
After Augustus died in 14 CE at the advanced age of seventy-seven, the new emperor, Tiberius, exacted revenge on his former wife and stopped all food provisions to her isolated outpost. Shortly thereafter, Julia died of malnutrition at fifty-two years of age.
Written by Mary Naples, Contributing Writer, Classical Wisdom
Thus, hard on the heels of the birth of her fifth child, Agrippa Posthumous, and still in mourning for her husband, the Princeps had his newly widowed daughter betrothed—this time to her stepbrother, Tiberius.
One can only imagine Livia’s delight. Finally, another Julio-Claudian union—the fervent hope must have been that it would be more fruitful than the last. Like Agrippa before him, everything was set except for one small detail: Tiberius was married.
In fact, Tiberius had been down this road with his stepfather eight years ago when, for purely political reasons yet again, Augustus married him to Vispania Agrippina (Agrippa’s eldest daughter with his first wife). According to Suetonius, in 11 BCE Tiberius divorced Vispania non sine magno angore animi (with great mental anguish). At last, the Princeps had been responsible for a union that resulted in love. Upon their heartbreaking divorce, an inconsolable and pregnant Vispania lost their second child.
Alas, the marriage of Julia and Tiberius had an inauspicious start. Raised in the Julio-Claudian palace more or less as brother and sister, rumor had it that the vivacious young Julia once had a crush on the solemn Tiberius. Those days long gone, initially they tried making a go of it resulting in Julia’s pregnancy. But theirs was not destined to be a happy union and the baby boy died in infancy. Shortly thereafter, injured fatally in a riding accident, Tiberius’s beloved younger brother Drusus died. For a man of his somber temperament, a grief-stricken Tiberius would not easily recover from the loss.
By this time, relations had broken down between the couple who found it difficult to live under the same roof much less in the same bed. Further, as a man who nursed his resentments, Tiberius felt slighted that the tender-aged heirs apparent—now his insolent stepsons—were increasingly promoted to consulships and distinguished priesthoods, while he, with an acclaimed military background, was relegated to diplomatic posts.
When Augustus offered him the tribunician power in the East, much to the dismay of the Princeps and the consternation of Livia, Tiberius flatly turned it down announcing he intended to “retire” from politics and move to the island of Rhodes. With a husband over fourteen hundred miles away, Julia was not content to stitch away the hours spinning and weaving as her conservative kin Livia and Octavia had done.
Making her vulnerable to the draconian marriage laws, she ran with a sophisticated crowd who viewed extramarital activities with nonchalance. She must have known the risks and appealed to her father for a divorce from her absent husband. But the Princeps would have none of it. As an eligible woman, the celebrated princess was a danger to the house of Augustus. With his successors waiting in the wings, the last thing the autocrat wanted was for an ambitious nobleman to jockey for political power, thus reducing the Princeps’ authority or that of his “own sons”—even though (or perhaps particularly because) they were truly Julia’s sons.
As a married woman with an absent husband, she was essentially an unmarried woman with no position in society. Even the cloistered Vestal Virgins would have been expected to have a more active public and social life than an unmarried woman. Required to live the life of a hermit, while being the life of the party, the extroverted thirty-something Roman darling was incapable of living in relative isolation—a simple fact a more attentive father would have known.
Then, in February of 2 BCE, the Princeps celebrated his twenty-fifth anniversary of “restoring the republic.” Amid much fanfare, Augustus was awarded the title of Pater Patriae (father of his country) and used the opportunity to promote his “own sons,” Gaius and Lucius as political heirs beginning a precedent for heritable rule.
It should be noted that, unlike his previous two sons-in-laws, Tiberius was not the Princeps’ political heir. In fact, after Tiberius’s self-exile to Rhodes, to a large extent, he was persona non grata at the house of Augustus and considered to be a threat to the successors should the Princeps die. Along those lines, to his imagined great humiliation, whether or not Tiberius should be allowed to return to Rome at all was now determined by none other than Gaius, his eighteen-year-old supercilious stepson.
Six months later, as propagandist extraordinaire, the Princeps threw another party to celebrate his reign. This time under the auspices of inaugurating the Forum of Augustus which housed the temple of Mars Ultor, an avenging military god founded by Augustus. The first of its kind, the edifice was dedicated to Roman nationalism and lined with statues of legendary Romans, singling out the Julian clan with notables such as: Aeneas, Romulus, Divus Julius (Divine Julius) and the headliner himself: Caesar Augustus.
Romans, always game for a party, were ostensibly celebrating twenty-five years of relative peace and uneven prosperity; a supposed golden era ushered in by the Princeps, who hailed as their father, Pater Patriaie. Yet, because of subsequent events that night, Augustus is less remembered as the father of Romans than he is as the father of Julia. After the revels had ended and the pageantry long faded, the Princeps was not yet done with his day. That night, he sent a letter of denunciation against his own daughter to the servile Senate.
Written by Mary Naples, Contributing Writer, Classical Wisdom
Attempting to revive the virtues and morality of the old Republic, Augustus set forth a series of contentious marriage laws ostensibly designed to boast marriage and procreation amongst the patrician class. Serving as a model of chastity, the headliner used as an exemplar to promote the Julian Laws was his own daughter. In fact, at the Princeps’ behest, flanked between her two young sons, Julia’s was the first female image to grace a Roman coin.
All was looking up for the princess, but in a grim foreshadowing of Julia’s unhappy fate, the long arm of the Princeps’ new laws was particularly constricting for women. Although adultery was criminalized for both sexes, a married woman was guilty of adultery if she had sex with anyone but her husband while a married man was guilty of adultery only if he had sex with a married woman. In other words, for married men, single women, slave girls, prostitutes, and concubines were up for grabs.
Patriarchal to its core, a prime concern in the authoritarian laws was an assurance of paternity. Punishment for the offenders was harsh; a father could kill his married daughter if she was caught in flagrante with her lover. A cuckolded husband was obligated to divorce his wife immediately; those who did not were charged with pimping. As well as undergoing harsh financial penalties, if found guilty in a special court of law, the newly divorced woman and her lover were exiled. Additionally, there were penalties for men who remained unmarried, and women who were divorced for other reasons—if of child-bearing age—were required to remarry within a year and a half. The only favorable element for married women was an exemption from male guardianship if she produced three or more children.
All in all, the autocratic laws were deeply unpopular; public demonstrations called for their appeal to the deaf ear of the Princeps. Make no mistake, it was not lost on anyone that the strict marriage laws were proscribed by a man whose marital record (and that of his virtuous wife) was itself deeply tainted. Moreover, the standard-bearer for the new morality laws was herself getting a reputation as someone who was loose with her favors.
While married to Agrippa, stories begin to emerge about Julia’s infidelities. We primarily hear Julia’s strident voice through anecdotes compiled in Macrobius’s fifth century CE work Saturnalia. A commentator about the Greek and Roman worlds, Macrobius recounts many of Julia’s witticisms—originally recorded by Domitius Marsus, an Augustan poet privy to palace intrigue. Believed to have had lovers, when asked how her children all resembled Agrippa she quipped: “Passengers are never allowed on board until the hold is full.” The ancients tell us that the Princeps was familiar with some of the rumors about his daughter but because the children favored Agrippa, he looked the other way. Nevertheless, if Julia’s morals were loose, she learned from the great moral leader himself.
While his besmirched beginnings with Livia were common knowledge, even after they married, Augustus’ indiscretions were legendary. In response to a letter from then-Octavian chastising Antony for his relationship with Cleopatra, Antony enumerates the affairs that Octavian engaged in since his marriage to Livia.
Over the years, a name that came up time and again was Terentia or Terentilla, the wife of his “good friend,” Maecenas. “That he was an adulterer upon many occasions even his friends did not deny,” Seutonius asserts, then boldly adds that by seducing the wives of his adversaries Augustus’s seductions were for the good of the Roman state. Yet Seutonius has no such excuse for the orgy Augustus hosted on at least one occasion.
How did Livia respond to his infidelities? According to the ancients, not only did Livia look the other way, but in his old age—evidently too infirm for seduction—she supplied him with fresh virgins for deflowering. While some of the reports may be a case of masculine hyperbole, it is important to note that Romans frowned upon men driven by lusts, deeming such activity feminized behavior. One thing is certain, if the marriage laws were in place when they hooked up, Augustus and Livia would each have been exiled to separate islands.
With the new laws in place, Julia was playing a dangerous game of chance which would soon become even more so. Regardless of her relationship with the much older Agrippa, her life was rocked by his sudden death in 12 BCE while she was pregnant with their fifth child. Yet, if she were any other woman living in Rome, a life of independence would await as the marriage laws would have protected the mother of the requisite three children (ius trium liberorum) from surrendering to patriarchal pressure to remarry.
But such was not the case for the Princeps’ daughter. Preoccupied as ever with dynastic sequence, Augustus had to make sure that his “own sons” (Gaius and Lucius—aged eight and five now) were in line of succession after he died. The worry was that in an attempt to overthrow the dynasty, any ambitious nobleman could cajole the princess into marrying. Besides, at twenty-seven, Julia was still of child-bearing age. Ever-greedy for more heirs, the controlling Princeps was compelled, yet again, to hand-pick her next husband.