Augustus_ The Life of Rome's First Emperor - Anthony Everitt [141]
The continuing flow of wealth into Italy in the first century B.C. was accompanied by a huge increase in the number of slaves, and so of those who could be freed. Enfranchisement (and, with citizenship) was popular not only as a reward for long and loyal service; ex-slaves were also a source of votes at election time, and manumission freed an owner of the duty of supporting old or sick slaves. A freedman, or libertus, was still linked to his former owner, for he had to join his clientela and owed him a continuing duty of loyalty and support.
Much of the Roman public believed that there were too many liberti: they were swamping the citizen body, diluting its Italianness. This appears to have worried Augustus too, who expressed a wish in his will to “preserve a significant distinction between Roman citizens and the peoples of subject nations.” It is reported that when Livia once asked him to make a Gallic dependent of hers from a tribute-paying province a citizen, he refused, offering exemption from tribute instead. He said: “I would rather forfeit whatever he may owe the Privy Purse than cheapen the value of Roman citizenship.”
Remarks of this kind seem to have been aimed at assuaging public fears rather than representing his real opinion, however, for in practice the princeps encouraged freedmen who showed energy, enthusiasm, and talent.
The formal methods of enfranchisement all took time to bring into effect, so owners were allowed to free slaves informally, by a simple written or verbal declaration. However, this did not confer citizenship; probably in 17 B.C., a lex Junia gave these informal enfranchisees a form of “Latin rights,” a second-class citizenship without voting rights.
In later years a lex Fufia Caninia limited the number of slaves whom an owner could free in his will, and a lex Aelia Sentia imposed some age limits: an owner had to be over twenty years old before he could give a slave freedom, and a slave over thirty before he could receive it. But these measures were designed to regulate manumission, not to prevent it.
Social reform was insufficient by itself to renew Rome. Writing before 28 B.C., Horace addressed his fellow citizens:
You shall pay for each ancestral crime,
Until our mouldering temples are rebuilt
And the gods’ statues cleansed of smoke and grime.
Only as servants of the gods in heaven
Can you rule earth.
From a couple of years or so before Actium, Augustus recognized the importance of encouraging the state religion. In addition to the Temple of Apollo interconnecting with his house on the Palatine, and that of Jupiter Tonans on the Capitol, Augustus built or refurnished many temples, all of them associated with him, his family, and the regime.
One of the most splendid was the Temple of Mars Ultor (Avenging Mars) on the Capitol. Vowed at the battle of Philippi, it was the centerpiece of a huge new Forum of Augustus which was dedicated in 2 B.C. Like the Parthenon in Athens, the temple was large enough to have eight columns across the front. In its cella, or hall, stood images of Augustus’ ancestors, and Rome’s long ago recovered legionary standards were displayed. Here the princeps received foreign embassies; here the Senate debated questions of war, and young Roman boys celebrated their coming of age.
However, something more than marble buildings was required to bring about a religious renaissance. Some great event was called for, a sacred ceremony that would bring citizens together to celebrate the dawning of a new age. It was found in an unusual quarter.
A little to the north of the city in the Campus Martius was a volcanic cleft, at the bottom of which stood a subterranean altar known as the Tarentum or Terentum. Here a nocturnal festival was held in honor of Dis and Proserpina, the gloomy deities of the underworld. Called the Ludi Tarentini, the festival