Empresses -- Rome -- Biography; Women -- Rome -- Biography
On an August morning of the year 29 B.C. the million citizens of Rome
lined the route which was taken by triumphal processions, to greet
the man who brought them the unfamiliar blessing of peace. From the
Triumphal Gate to the Capitol, past the Great Circus and through
the dense quarter of the Velabrum, with its narrow streets and high
tenements, the chattering crowd was drawn out in two restless lines, on
either side of the road, ready to fling back the resonant “Io Triumphe”
of the bronzed soldiers, bubbling with discussion of the war-blackened
stretch of the past and the more pleasant prospect of the future. The
hedges of spectators were thicker, and the debate was livelier, under
the cliff of the Palatine Hill and in the Forum, through which ran the
Sacred Way to the white Temple of Jupiter, towering above them and
crowning the Capitol at the end of the Forum. There the conqueror would
offer sacrifice, before he sank back into the common rank of citizens
of the Republic. Would the young Octavian really lay down his power,
and become a citizen among many, now that he was master of the Roman
world?
Possibly one woman, who looked out on the seething Forum and the
glistening temple of Jupiter from a modest mansion on the Palatine
Hill, knew the answer to the eager question. Possibly it was unknown
to Octavian himself, her husband. She heard the blasts of the leading
trumpeters, and saw the sleek white oxen, with their gilded horns
and their green garlands, advance along the Sacred Way and mount the
Capitol. She saw the people rock and quiver with excitement as painted
scenes of the remote Dalmatian forests, where her husband’s latest
victories had been won, and the gold and silver of despoiled Egypt,
and the very children of the witch Cleopatra, were driven before the
conqueror. She saw the red-robed lictors slowly pass, their fasces
wreathed in laurel; she saw the band of dancers and musicians tossing
joyful music in his path; and she saw at last the four white horses
drawing a triumphal chariot, in which her husband and her two children
received the frenzied ovation of the people.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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