Augustus: The Life and Times of the Founder of the Roman Empire

by Evelyn S. Shuckburgh

Death of Augustus at Nola, August 19, A.D. 14.

For now the end was near, portended as the pious or credulous believed by many omens. There was an eclipse of the sun,[315] and various fiery meteors in the sky. On one of his statues the letter C of Cæsar was melted by lightning, and the augurs prophesied, or afterwards invented the prediction, that he would die within a hundred days and join the gods—æsar being good Etruscan for “divinities.” He himself seems to have been made somewhat nervous by certain accidents that might be twisted into omens. The early part of A.D. 14 was taken up with the usual legal business, but also with the Census, which he held this year in virtue of his consular power and with Tiberius as his colleague. The organisation of the city into vici probably made the actual clerical work easy and rapid, but when that was over came the ceremony of “closing the lustrum” (condere lustrum), and the offering of solemn sacrifice and prayer. This took place in the Campus Martius, and large crowds assembled to witness it. But the Emperor, uneasy at something which he thought ominous, or perhaps really feeling unwell, would not read the solemn vows, which according to custom had been written out and were now put into his hands. He said that he should not live to fulfil them and handed them over to Tiberius to read. After this ceremony was over, Augustus was anxious to get away from Rome and take his usual yachting tour along the Latin and Campanian coast. On this occasion he had the farther object of accompanying Tiberius as far as Beneventum on the Appian road, on his way to Brundisium and Illyricum, where some difficulties resulting from the recent war required his presence and authority. But various legal causes awaiting decision detained the Emperor in the city. He was restive and impatient at the delay, and petulantly exclaimed that “if they let everything stop them he should never be at Rome again.” At length, however, he set out, accompanied by Livia and Tiberius and a numerous court. They reached the coast at Astura, in the delta of a river of the same name, which falls into the sea at the southern point of the bay of Antium. It was a quiet place though there were seaside villas near, and there Cicero had spent the months of his mourning for Tullia, finding consolation in the solitude of the woods which skirt the side of the stream. At Astura the party embarked, but owing to the state of the wind they did so by night. A chill then caught brought on diarrhœa, and laid the foundation of his fatal illness. Nevertheless the voyage along the Campanian coast and the adjacent islands was continued till they reached Capreæ. It was on this voyage that, happening to touch at Puteoli, he was so much delighted and cheered by the thanks offered him by the crew of an Alexandrian corn-ship for his safeguarding of the seas. At Capreæ he seems to have stayed some time, amusing himself by watching the young athletes training for the Greek games at Naples—the only town in Italy except Rhegium which at this time retained any traces of Hellenic customs and life. He gave parties, also, at which he asked his Roman guests to dress in Greek fashion and speak Greek, and the Greeks to use Roman dress and speak Latin. There was the usual distribution of presents, and on one occasion he gave a banquet to the athletes in training, and watched them after dinner pelting each other with apples and other parts of the dessert. It was a custom, more honoured in the breach than in the observance, with which he was familiar. He once entertained a certain Curtius, who prided himself on his taste in cookery, and who thought a fat thrush that had been put before him was ill-done. “May I despatch it?” he said to the Emperor. “Of course,” was the reply; upon which he threw it out of the window. On this occasion the aged Emperor, feeling, we may suppose, somewhat better and glad to be away from the cares of State, enjoyed this curious horse-play. He was also particularly cheerful during these days at Capreæ, pleasing himself with inventing Greek verses and then defying one of Tiberius’ favourite astrologers to name the play from which they came.

Before long, however, he crossed to Naples, with his illness still upon him, but with alternate rallies and relapses. At Naples he had to sit through some long gymnastic contests that were held every fifth year in his honour. Such a function in an August day at Naples would have been trying to the most vigorous and healthy, but for a man in his seventy-sixth year, and suffering from such a complaint, it must have been deadly. He preferred, however, not to disappoint people eager to shew him honour. He then fulfilled his purpose of accompanying Tiberius to Beneventum, and having taken leave of him there turned back towards Naples. But he was never to reach it. At Nola, about eighteen English miles short of that town, his illness became so acute that he was obliged to stop at the villa there in which his father had died seventy-two years before. Messengers were hastily sent to recall Tiberius. With him the dying man had a long private conversation, in which he seems to have imparted to him his wishes and counsels as to the government; and perhaps it was now that he pointed out the three nobles who were possible candidates for the succession—“Marcus Lepidus, who was fit for it, but would not care to take it; Asinius Gallus, who would desire it, but was unfit; and L. Arruntius, who was not unfit for it and would have the courage to seize it if opportunity offered.” But this conference over he busied himself with no other affairs of State. He seemed to acquiesce in the fact that he had done with the world, its vexations and problems. On the last day of his life, the 19th of August (his lucky month!) the only question which he continually repeated was whether his situation was causing any commotion out of doors. Then he asked for a mirror and directed his attendants to arrange his hair and close his already relaxing jaws, that he might not shock beholders by the ghastliness of his appearance. Then his friends were admitted to say goodbye. With a pathetic mixture of playfulness and sadness he asked them whether “they thought that he had played life’s farce fairly well?” quoting a common tag at the end of plays:—

“If aught of good our sport had, clap your hands,

And send us, gentles all, with joy away.”

These being dismissed, he turned to Livia and asked for news of one of her granddaughters who was ill; but even as he spoke he felt the end was come—“Livia, don’t forget our wedded life, goodbye!” And as he tried to kiss her lips he fell back dead.

It was a rapid and painless end, for which he had so often hoped, an euthanasia that he used to pray for, for himself and his friends. Up to the last his mind had been clear, with only the slightest occasional wandering. And so after long years of work and struggle, of mixed evil and good, of stern cruelties and beneficent exertion, of desperate dangers and well-earned honours, the great Emperor as he lay dying looked into the eyes which he had loved best in the world.

The body was borne to Rome by the municipal magistrates of the several towns along the road, the cortège always moving by night because of the heat, and the bier being deposited in the court-house of each town till it reached Bovillæ, twelve miles from Rome. There a procession of Roman knights took it in charge, having obtained that honour from the consuls, conducted it to Rome, and deposited it in the vestibule of his own house on the Palatine.

With not unnatural or unpardonable emotion some extravagant proposals were made in the Senate as to funeral honours and general mourning. But Tiberius disliked such excesses, and the funeral though stately was simple. The bier was carried on the shoulders of Senators to the Campus. Twice the cortège stopped, first at the Rostra, where Drusus, the son of Tiberius, delivered a funeral oration (laudatio), and again at the front of the temple of Iulius, where Tiberius himself read a panegyric. Drusus had dwelt chiefly on his private virtues, Tiberius confined himself to his public work. He began with a reference to his youthful services to the state immediately after the death of Cæsar; his success in putting an end to the civil wars, and his clemency after them. He spoke of the skill with which, while splendidly rewarding his ministers, he yet prevented them from gaining a power detrimental to the state; of his disinterested and constitutional conduct when, having everything in his hands, he yet shared the power with the people and Senate; of his unselfishness in the division of the provinces in taking the difficult ones upon himself; of his equity in leaving Senate and constitution independent; of his economy and liberality; of the good order which he kept and the wholesome laws which he carried; of his sympathy with the tastes and enjoyments of the people; of his hatred of flattery and tolerance of free speech. The address was read and had been carefully composed. There is not much fervour or eloquence in it, but it skilfully put the points which Augustus would himself have put, and indeed had put in that apologia pro vita sua which we know from the inscription at Ancyra.