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Did Augustus Really Persecute Isis Worship?
A common misconception held even by some classics majors who ought to know better is that Rome was tolerant of every foreign god and the idea that Augustus suppressed Isis worship is a fictional literary flourish.
While it’s true that Rome generally accorded respect to foreign gods, there are a few religions that fell afoul of the powers-that-be. Rome virtually exterminated the Druids. They burned Christians and fed them to the lions. And we learn from Tertullian, Cassius Dio, Valerius Maximus, Josephus and others, they cracked down on Isis worship too.
The female-centric Alexandrine cult promoted unorthodox ideas about gender roles, war and slavery; it was thought to be a threat to the moral fiber of Rome. Writers like Juvenal and Cattullus propagated the idea that the religion was obscene and orgiastic. Certainly, Isis was a favorite amongst prostitutes, which couldn’t have earned her any points with the musty old conscript fathers in Rome.
Valerius Maximus tells us that the authorities attempted to purge the cult from Rome, going so far as to destroy her temples–though none of the workmen would take up an axe so the politician in charge had to remove his toga and start trashing the temple himself. Isis enjoyed a brief reprieve under Julius Caesar and Mark Antony–which may have had something to do with the fact that both men were sleeping with Cleopatra VII of Egypt, the New Isis.
After Cleopatra’s defeat, however, Octavian took up the mantle of protecting the moral fiber of Rome from Isis worship which, he apparently believed, subverted the proper relations of the sexes. That is to say, he didn’t believe that women should think themselves equal to men, and said so. At first he banned the worship of Isis within the sacred boundary of Rome–an indication of its status as un-Roman. However, while Augustus was away in 21 BC, his second-in-command, Agrippa, pushed the Isiacs out of the city entirely and forbid worship within a mile of Rome.
It should be pointed out that while Augustus set about destroying the Temples of Isis in Rome, he allowed himself to be portrayed making offers to Isis in traditional style on temples in Egypt. But that was Egypt, where he wanted to claim the power of the Pharaohs and make a seamless transition in rule. It’s also not clear that all these carvings were made at his direction, or on his behalf by well-meaning priests eager to curry his favor. Moreover, the appearance of Isis in frescoes and artwork on the Palatine should not be taken as an endorsement of the goddess. In the aftermath of Cleopatra’s defeat, Egyptomania took hold and it became the fashion to decorate gardens with obelisks and sphinx statues, regardless of their religious significance. That Julia, the daughter of Augustus, may have been an Isis worshipper is an interesting possibility that leads one to wonder if it was an honest spiritual calling or one more rebellion against her overbearing father.
The official Roman antipathy for Isis lasted after Augustus’ death. Josephus tells us that after a scandal during his reign, Tiberius (who was Augustus’ successor and Julia’s husband) crucified Isiac priests and threw a cult statue of Isis into the Tiber.
Much of this happened during Cleopatra Selene’s lifetime. That she continued to promote the worship of Isis in spite of this official antipathy for her goddess is an interesting facet of her life considering she would have been the most prominent Isis worshipper and a nominal member of the imperial family. It would be her nephew, Caligula, who would restore Isis worship in Rome where it would eventually flourish until the rise of Christianity.
Juba II and Cleopatra Selene: Was it a Love Match?
The King and Queen of Mauretania enjoyed an apparently stable marriage of at least twenty years in duration. In a time when spouses were swapped like fruitcakes at family gatherings, this was somewhat of an anomaly and leads many to wonder whether or not theirs was a love story.
Birds of a Feather
The two certainly shared a pathos. She was the orphaned daughter of the ill-fated lovers, Cleopatra and Mark Antony. She was a princess of Egypt without a throne to inherit. He was a deposed princeling, the orphaned son of King Juba I of Numidia. As children, both Juba and Selene had been marched as chained prisoners in a Roman triumphal parade. Both had also been pardoned, fostered by Augustus, and reared to adulthood as nominal members of the imperial family.
There is some indication that the match was suggested by the emperor’s sister, Octavia, who seems to have spent much of her life arranging marriages and tending to the children of others. Having observed Juba and Selene in her household, did Octavia sense that the young couple had romantic feelings for one another?
It’s entirely possible that as a Ptolemy, Selene’s love of learning drew her to Juba, the scholarly Numidian. A bust that has been identified as Juba II shows him to have been a remarkably handsome young man, so Selene may have found him quite attractive. Moreover, Juba seems to have been capable in military situations. What better way to earn the respect of Antony’s daughter?
Juba was, in fact, a remarkable man in every respect. A prodigy and scholar, he was insatiably curious. He wrote at least fifty books and made important contributions to the scholarship of the ancient world. He also seems to have been an able politician–at least insofar as it fell to him to stay on the right side of Augustus. Like other client kings, Juba walked a tightrope between national independence and obedience to Rome, but he never fell from grace–at least not during Selene’s lifetime. (Perhaps we can credit some of his good political sense to her.)
In summary, Selene would’ve had every reason to love Juba and it’s equally possible that Juba’s heart went out to the young Egyptian princess who, like him, had lost everything. Her status and influence over his reign suggests his deep respect, perhaps even a subservience to her.
Indeed, there are many indications that the marriage between Juba and Selene was an amicable one. The two managed affairs in Mauretania as co-rulers. Selene had the power to mint her own coins and her influence is felt everywhere in the relics of their capital city. Juba seems to have wholeheartedly embraced the legacy of the Ptolemies on his wife’s behalf and in 20 BC they started to appear on coins together. Perhaps theirs was a love match.
On the other hand, marrying Selene off to the newly made king of far-away Mauretania was a political convenience for Augustus.
A Princess Bride
Both Mark Antony and Cleopatra always had their partisans–even after defeat. As their daughter, Selene would have made a tempting prize for any Roman who intended to challenge Augustus for power. What’s more, any Roman son born to her may have served as a rallying cry to Mark Antony’s legions and loyalists. (That Antony’s offspring remained a threat to Augustus can be demonstrated by the example of Iullus Antonius, whose status as a member of the imperial family did not protect him when he was accused of having taken the emperor’s daughter as a lover and was implicated in some manner of treason against Augustus.)
In short, Selene was a dangerous girl to have in Rome.
Moreover, as the daughter of Cleopatra, neither could she be easily married off to one of the client kings in the East. Selene was the last of the Ptolemies; her blood was the most royal blood left in the world. She maintained a persuasive dynastic claim to Egypt and its surrounds. A marriage to Selene might help cement an alliance with Rome–but Selene’s Ptolemaic legacy might also create ambitions in a king to turn against Rome and ally with Parthia instead. And if that weren’t bad enough, as her mother’s daughter, Selene’s presence in the East might well have ignited a rivalry with King Herod.
Thus, marrying Selene to Juba and sending them both to Mauretania was the wisest political course of action. Mauretania was closer to Spain than to Egypt–none of Cleopatra’s old allies would be near by to whisper mischief in the ear of her daughter. Moreover, Juba seems to have been completely trusted and completely beholden to Augustus. Perhaps it was thought that Juba could control Selene and prevent her from pursuing any ambitions she may have had to return to Egypt. Also, it may have crossed Augustus’ mind to ensure Juba’s loyalty by rewarding him with the most prestigious princess in the western world.
We must recall that in the world of imperial politics, love seldom played a role in marriage–and if it did, it often had disastrous results. Augustus built his career on the idea that unlike a besotted Mark Antony who allegedly betrayed his country for love, his first love was and always would be Rome. Augustus seems to have set out to prove it by rather ruthlessly meddling in the love lives of his family, arranging and re-arranging marriages to suit his political purposes with apparent disregard for the feelings of those involved. (Just one example is when he forced his step-son Tiberius to divorce the wife he adored and then, when he discovered that Tiberius had followed his former wife with tears in his eyes, he forbid the two from seeing each other ever again.)
Beyond the cold, hard political realities, there are other indications that all was not flowers and rainbows between Juba and Selene.
Won’t Someone Think of the Children?
Though Selene’s parents were two of the most famously fertile individuals in ancient history, it is only certain that Selene had one son–a son who was born to her late in life and may have hastened her death. The name she chose for him is both the single most telling detail about her life and the most mysterious. Breaking with ancient tradition, her son wasn’t named after Juba or his family. Instead, Selene’s son was named Ptolemy. The importance of this cannot be overstated. It indicates that even after having been married to Selene and ruling his own country for at least a decade, Juba’s lineage was still considered to be inferior to hers. Perhaps it indicates that she was the true ruler of Mauretania. It also may have led some to question whether or not he was even the father of the boy.
That only one known child would have come from such a long marriage puts the idea that it was a love match to the test. In a time when it would have been considered their duty to produce children, perhaps Juba and Selene did not fancy sharing one another’s bed. On the other hand, child mortality rates were extremely high in the ancient world. There may well have been other children that we just don’t know about.
An inscription from ancient Athens indicated that Juba had a son and a daughter, who is unnamed. However, this daughter need not have been the child of Cleopatra Selene. Historians have argued that as a Roman citizen, Juba was unlikely to have broken with Roman law and taken more than one wife at a time. It must be pointed out, however, that like Juba, King Herod was also a Roman citizen and had more wives than he could keep track of. Juba’s father had kept many wives and it’s entirely possible that the young king may have done the same to earn the respect of his Berber peoples. It strikes me that admirers of King Juba II who insist that he couldn’t have taken a second wife because he wouldn’t have taken a second wife may be projecting onto him some virtues of modern morality. After all, even the most Roman of the Romans–Julius Caesar–is rumored to have tried to pass a law that would allow him to take more than one wife. A more persuasive argument, to my mind, is that Archelaus the King of Cappadocia was unlikely to allow his daughter, Glaphyra, to play second-wife to Cleopatra’s daughter.
So, what of Juba’s daughter? We know that Juba was married a second time to Glaphyra of Cappadocia, and whether or not Selene was alive at the time, the daughter may have been hers. Professor Duane Roller has suggested that Juba may have reinstated the tradition of a harem, in which case this unnamed daughter may have belonged to a concubine. (If so, it seems less likely that she would be mentioned in an inscription.) But the most probable explanation is that the girl mentioned in the inscription is Selene’s daughter. If so, the girl was likely named in the tradition of the Ptolemaic dynasty. Another Cleopatra Something or Berenice or Arsinoe. (In my own forthcoming novel, Song of the Nile, she will be named Cleopatra Isidora.)
A third child is also hinted at. Some scholars have suggested that Selene may have had two sons, both named Ptolemy, one of whom died young. This would reconcile some confusion in the historical record about Ptolemy’s age, and might also explain why Selene would have tried for another child so late in life when it was so dangerous for her to do so. If true, it would mean that Ptolemy wasn’t the only son born to Juba and Selene, but the only surviving son.
If, however, Ptolemy’s was the only child ever born to Selene and Juba, this isn’t the only hint at marital discord between the two monarchs.
Opposites Attract?
The two main centers of Mauretania were Iol-Caesaria, the relics of which reveal Selene’s overwhelming influence, and Volubilis, the relics of which do not. Is it possible the two monarchs kept separate homes in separate cities? Certainly, Juba’s geographical work suggests a great deal of travel on his part–a pattern confirmed by his later activities accompanying Gaius Caesar in the East. While Juba chronicled the flora and fauna of his kingdom, Selene was apparently busy at work, building up Iol-Caesaria’s architecture, reproducing Alexandria in miniature. It may have been a case of complementary strengths creating a strong union–or it may have been a case of a married couple pursuing their own interests, the other be damned.
Though Selene and Juba are thought to have been married in 25 BC she would not appear on the coinage of the realm as a co-ruler until 20 BC. Moreover, the way each would present themselves on coins is extremely telling. Juba’s coins are in Latin, with only one known exception. His coins are deferential to Rome, in perfect order. Selene’s coins are always in Greek, often flouting the emperor’s official narrative by celebrating her dead mother–an enemy of Rome, elevating the goddess Isis–who was deeply out of favor with Augustus, and hinting that either Egypt would soon break free of its bonds or that she represented the throne of Egypt in exile. The coins are the most enduring record of Selene’s reign as queen and they are so provocative that it leads one to wonder what proclamations or official documents must have been flying back and forth across the Mediterranean.
Perhaps this was a calculated strategy between Juba and Selene to present different faces to different powerful factions, thereby maintaining a balance of peace in Mauretania. Juba was the obvious choice to appease the concerns of Roman settlers; he wasn’t just a king; he’d also been granted magisterial powers elsewhere in the empire as an agent of Augustus. Meanwhile, Cleopatra Selene could give the native Berbers and imported Alexandrians of her kingdom the appearance of token resistance to Roman hegemony. After her mother, she was the best hope for Isis worshippers, the best representative of Hellenism, and the last vestige of the Ptolemaic dynasty. It may have been a shrewd thing for Juba and Selene to pretend that they had different visions for their kingdom.
On the other hand, the stark contrast between the way Selene and Juba presented themselves may reflect a genuine schism. Selene seems never to have suffered the slightest censure for her hubris, and one can only surmise that this is because she enjoyed an extraordinary relationship with Augustus. Either that, or Augustus decided to leave it to Juba to discipline his wayward wife. What awkward family dinners may have been the result?
Unfortunately, the mystery surrounding Selene’s death makes it even more difficult to determine what kind of emotional relationship the two shared. If the poem written by Crinagoras of Mytilene that describes Selene as having died during a lunar eclipse is taken literally, astronomers can narrow down the possibility to a few dates. The current theory is that Selene died in 5 BC while her son was still very young, and that the best evidence of her death is that Juba married Glaphyra some time between 1 AD-6 AD. As a Romanized prince, the argument goes, Juba simply would not have married Glaphyra if Selene was still alive.
However, the strange circumstances surrounding Juba’s marriage to Glaphyra raise all manner of questions. For one, Juba appears to have met Glaphyra while on expedition. If Selene was deceased, it would mean that our grieving widower would have left behind–for a number of years–at least one young child and a kingdom in flux without a ruler. This may be why it has more traditionally been supposed that Selene was in control of Mauretania while Juba was away. Her regency would also explain the cache of coins that has been discovered, indicating Selene minting her own currency as late as 17 AD–a currency that featured her and her alone. More interesting is the nearly concurrent uprising of the Berber tribes in Juba’s lands with his hasty divorce from Glaphyra, upon which he hot-footed it back to Mauretania.
Did a resentful Selene allow the political situation to get out of hand so that Juba would be forced to return home? Was he compelled to divorce Glaphyra to keep his throne? If so, was it because Augustus worried about an alliance between Juba and the Judean dynasty, or because Selene would not tolerate a rival?
It has been suggested that the puzzling cache of coins depicting Selene alone was minted by Juba as a commemorative of his late wife–perhaps to smooth over tempers, to remind his people who the mother of his son had been, perhaps as an apology for marrying Glaphyra, who seems never to have set foot in Mauretania. If so, this would indicate some measure of deep and abiding affection for Selene–if not on Juba’s part, then at least on behalf of the Mauretanian people over which she ruled for so many years.
So, was it a love match? You tell me!
Of What Importance Was King Herod in the Life of Cleopatra’s Daughter?
Though no ancient sources directly link the two monarchs, it’s difficult to write a novel about the life of Cleopatra’s daughter without referencing one of her mother’s bitterest enemies.
Herod the Great was Cleopatra VII’s rival even before her affair with the Roman Triumvir, Antony. As a Ptolemy, Cleopatra maintained a hereditary claim on Judea, but that wasn’t the only source of her conflict with King Herod.
To say that Herod’s personal life was a study in dysfunction is to put it lightly. When he entered on a campaign to rid himself of his wife’s relatives, of the Hasmonean Dynasty that preceded him, his mother-in-law found a sympathetic ally in Cleopatra VII. The Queen of Egypt tried to intercede on behalf of her friend, and apparently won Herod’s lifelong enmity as a result.
The feeling appears to have been mutual. Cleopatra would later demand from Antony that Herod’s whole kingdom be surrendered to her, but because Herod had been a loyal friend to Antony, he only stripped Herod of date and balsam plantations in Jericho and Ein Gedi.
The rivalry reached such a fever pitch that Herod is said to have considered assassinating Cleopatra, but was dissuaded by his advisors, who assured him that Antony would never forgive him. After Antony and Cleopatra’s defeat, King Herod went over to Octavian, asserting that he had given Antony the best possible advice: Kill Cleopatra.
Did the rivalry end there, or did Herod continue to fear the Ptolemies even after the famous queen took her own life?
Three of Cleopatra’s children survived the civil war: little Ptolemy Philadelphus, Cleopatra Selene, and her twin brother, Alexander Helios. As Ptolemies, all three could exert a claim over Judea, and because they were half-Roman, it might well have been feared that their claims might be supported against Herod if the political fortunes of Octavian should change. Even dead, Cleopatra and Antony still had their partisans, in Rome and elsewhere. Alexandrian cults like those surrounding the goddess Isis still held enormous political sway. If we credit the gospel of Matthew, then we also know that Herod was particularly threatened by children born under auspices and omens, which would have led him to be doubly wary of Cleopatra’s twins.
Given the portrait of Herod that has come down to us through the ages–namely that he was so power hungry and paranoid that he had his own sons put to death as rivals–it is difficult to believe that he ever viewed Cleopatra’s daughter with dispassion. Cleopatra Selene not only survived childhood, but went on to become Queen of Mauretania. Are we to believe that King Herod was not made uneasy to see his enemy’s daughter given more territory to rule than all the other client kingdoms in the empire put together?
Cleopatra Selene and her husband Juba appear to have had the implicit trust of Augustus, and did not need to make frequent visits back to the capitol to secure his good will, but Herod was less secure. Whereas Selene and Juba founded a port city and named it after Caesar, Herod commenced building two such cities, naming them both after Augustus. Whereas Cleopatra Selene and Juba appear to have worked in easy concert with their proconsular neighbors in Africa Novo, Herod was obliged to get permission for his military exploits, and overstepped on at least one occasion, prompting an angry letter from Augustus. Given these tensions, it is hard to imagine that Herod and Selene did not wish one another ill.
However, whether or not an active rivalry between Herod and Cleopatra Selene existed, the King of Judea was a pivotal contemporary figure in her life by which she must have measured most of her accomplishments as a client queen. That Herod comes down to us through history more well-known than Cleopatra Selene is partially a function of her gender, but also because her reign was one of relative peace and prosperity, lacking the big splashy family drama that marked Herod’s rule.
How Did Cleopatra Really Die?
The story of Cleopatra’s death, as handed down to us by her conqueror, is that she killed herself by means of a poisonous snake. According to Suetonius, the stunned Octavian summoned snake charming Psylli to suck the poison from puncture wounds found on her arm. Later, she was depicted in a wax effigy during Octavian’s triumph with an asp clutched to her breast and contemporary poets like Virgil also alluded to the snake as the instrument of her death.
It could be that they were all wrong. As Plutarch eventually admits, no one knows the truth of how Cleopatra died. Strabo may have actually been in in Alexandria at the time of her death, and he suggests that she may have put poison at the end of a needle. But none of the ancients seem to have favored the idea that she gulped down a poisonous mixture in the form of a drink, so modern claims that there was no cobra and that she drank a poison concoction must be eyed with at least a little healthy skepticism.
It’s become fashionable to challenge the manner in which Cleopatra died and also to suggest that she may have been murdered or forced to suicide. It’s even theorized that Octavian sent Dolabella to the queen with an elaborate story about how she’d be dragged through the streets of Rome for the express purpose of convincing her that killing herself was the only way to preserve her dignity.
Adherents to these theories point out that Octavian was a master propagandist who wanted to be rid of the queen and was willing to lie about how she died so as to ensure that he’d be held blameless. However, it seems that historians ought to base their conclusions upon more than a belief that Octavian was a liar.
It may well be true that a living Cleopatra was an enormous inconvenience to Octavian. He was undoubtedly better off with her dead than alive. However, it’s equally true that there isn’t a single ancient source that accuses Octavian of having killed the queen or having encouraged her to kill herself. In fact, Plutarch tells us that Cleopatra was researching painless forms of suicide long before Octavian stepped foot in Alexandria and his information may have come from Cleopatra’s only living daughter, through Juba II. Moreover, we’re presented by an undisputed claim that when Cleopatra was first captured, she was already trying to kill herself with a knife. Even after she was disarmed by Gaius Proculeius, the queen thereupon stopped eating and allowed herself to succumb to illness until Octavian threatened her children. All of this happened before the much ballyhooed talk with Dolabella, and establishes a pattern of suicidal behavior.
Finally, there is the matter of Octavian trying to revive her. Certainly, Octavian was not above play-acting, but this would seem to fit the pattern of historical sources that tell us the queen’s death came as a surprise to him.
Like Plutarch, I’ll admit that no one knows the truth of how Cleopatra died. But the preponderance of the evidence still seems to be that she took her fate into her hands and ended her own life…quite possibly with the help of a venomous snake. And for purposes of a historical novelist, suicide by snake was good enough for Margaret George, so it’s good enough for me!
In Lily of the Nile, Cleopatra Selene identifies as Egyptian, but wasn’t she really Greek?
In Professor Duane Roller’s new biography of Cleopatra, he theorizes that there was actually some small part native Egyptian blood flowing through Cleopatra’s veins. But even if that were not the case, there is no way to overestimate the reach of Hellenistic culture into Alexandria. Nor can we ignore that Macedonian Greeks comprised the ruling class into which Selene was born. It is plausible that Selene identified as Greek.
However, because Selene’s mother was also fierce nationalist, I chose to have her identify as an Egyptian. Her mother, Cleopatra, identified herself primarily as the Queen of Egypt. She honored the native gods and customs, and was the first of her dynasty to learn the language.
Remember too that the old Macedonian empire had by now been eclipsed by the Ptolemies in Egypt, and what remained of its glory was entombed within Alexander’s coffin in Cleopatra’s capital city. This synthesis of cultures–not to mention the multicultural nature of Alexandria itself–didn’t seem to trouble Cleopatra and may even have been a source of pride. In fact, at the later end of Cleopatra’s rule, she adopted the title of Philopatris (lover of her country). Therefore I portrayed Selene to be an Egyptophile like her mother.
I believe this was the right choice because when Selene was a transplanted Queen in Mauretania, she used her coins to glorify not the Hellenistic Ptolemaic dynasty alone but also the Egyptian Pharonic legacy of her homeland with images of crocodiles, ancient Egyptian gods. This is in striking contrast to more usual Ptolemaic coinage which usually bore the Greek images of cornucopiae and the Ptolemy Eagle on their reverses. (See Nina H. Berkhout, Cleopatra VIII Selene, Last of the Ptolemaic Queens.)
