Pitted against this calm, correct, implacable woman we have the spoiled child Julia, bent upon enjoying herself to the full, adventurous, audacious, both in deed and word. When her father reproved her for riotous living she is said to have replied that, though he might choose to forget that he was Cæsar, she did not propose to forget that she was Cæsar’s daughter, and doubtless the pert sally, accompanied by some laughing gesture, smoothed away the gravity of the outraged Emperor. For a Roman princess at this resplendent time of Rome’s fortunes three lives were open: she might live as Julia’s aunt Octavia lived, or her first cousin the younger Antonia, in comparative retirement, abstaining from intermeddling with affairs of state, the centre of a refined and possibly literary circle, caring for the domestic interests of those whom she loved, or to whom she was bound by duty; or she might live as Livia lived, darkly intriguing behind the scenes, corresponding with “native” princes, plotting and counter-plotting among the Roman families, or again she might fling herself into the riotous amusements of the gilded youth of Rome, the young gentlemen for whom Ovid wrote his treatises on gallantry. Gambling and betting were as well known diversions in Roman society as in our own; great ladies made their books upon the circus. Cards were not yet invented, but dice were common. Wealthy young provincials, the sons of great but not ennobled capitalists, were as ready then as now to pay for admission to the highest social circles by dealing leniently with fair ladies whose affairs were involved by debts of honour, and some of them lost their heads and hearts over the business. Masquerading in the unlighted Roman streets after respectable people had gone to their early beds was not an infrequent amusement, and even ladies anticipated at Rome the licence of the Mohawk and Tityre Tu of Queen Anne’s reign in London. Antony and Cleopatra amused themselves thus at Alexandria, to the terror and annoyance of respectable middle class men; the joke of thus playing pranks upon inoffensive persons of humble rank under the protection of a slight disguise is not obvious, but it has at all times presented attractions for a certain order of mind. As for Julia, we are told that her revels were conducted even on the sacred Rostra, the public platform of the government of the world. Her cynical defence of her immoralities is said to have been even more outrageous than her conduct. But for all this Julia did not forget that she was Cæsar’s daughter, and was determined not to submit more than was inevitable to the domination of the woman who was not her mother, but was Cæsar’s wife.