What Augustus himself thought of Egypt isn’t clear. Certainly, to enhance the negative stereotypes of Egyptians which were rapidly emerging around the time of Actium would have been to his advantage, but he was in no place to deny the important role of Egypt itself as one of his most profitable and active estates. Augustus claims in his Res Gestae (27) to have added Egypt to empire of Roman people, but, as Alison Cooley points out, the reality was somewhat different:
‘His emphasis on Egypt as now subject to the rule of the Roman people is echoed in many different official media celebrating his victory... all this belies the fact that Egypt received special treatment, becoming to some extent the possession of the emperor.’ (2009: 229)
It is clear, then, that Rome’s – or more specifically, Augustus’ – interest in Egypt was above all fiscal, and maintaining the lucrative economic system enjoyed under the wealthiest Hellenistic kings was of the leading priorities of Augustus and his successors. (Bard, 1999: 78) Eric M. Orlin further suggests that Augustus was in no way repelled by Egyptian culture as many writers of the time appear to be:
‘One avenue of approach is to note that Octavian was not implacably opposed to Egyptian culture in all its forms. Much of the anti-Egyptian display on the part of Octavian during the Triumviral period seems to have been generated by the conflict against Antony and Cleopatra rather than by deeply felt bias against Egyptian culture.’ (2008: 239)
When reading the works of Cassius Dio, however, we might be inclined to think differently. Dio provides us with arguably the most important historical source for Augustus’ career, including his conquest of Egypt and his seemingly standoffish approach to Egyptian religion. At 51.16.3 he references Augustus’ entry into Egypt and Alexandra, sparing its inhabitants, if only for the fact that, ‘...he did not see fit to inflict any irreparable injury upon a people so numerous, who might prove very useful to the Romans in many ways.’ Dio’s own disdain for Egyptians is made clear in his work: he refers to them as ‘facile’ and ‘fickle’ (51.16.3) and suggest Augustus saw them as such. Nevertheless, as Gregory S. Dundas points out:
‘Inconsistencies in Dio’s account tend to confirm that the anti-Egyptianism credited to Augustus was primarily Dio’s, not Augustus’.’ (2002: 434)
Dio, however, was writing some 200 years after Egypt was annexed by the Empire. To understand the Roman attitudes towards Egypt in its earliest days as a province, we must surely look at the Augustan literature which references it, of which there is plenty.
It is Horace, the most prominent lyric poet to have emerged during the Augustan period, who provides us with the earliest literary reaction to Actium. In his Epode IX, he imagines himself on board ship following Octavian’s great defeat over Cleopatra. He is decidedly patriotic; at lines 12-19, remarks on the degradation of fellow Roman soldiers at the hands of the Egyptian queen, and at 21, references the cry of ‘Io Triumphe!’ from the spectators of the subsequent triumph. Ode I.37 takes a similar standpoint against Cleopatra, cataloguing her negative traits until the final three stanzas. He ends the ode painting her in somewhat of a sympathetic light, remarking on her apparent lack of fear at the end of her life. Is this to suggest that Horace is bidding his readers to sympathise with the Egyptian queen he has previously condemned? It is far more likely to be a sensible tactic on the author’s part to portray her as a greater adversary when taking into account the pride Augustus placed in her defeat. Painting Cleopatra and therefore her Egyptian background in a highly negative light was by all means the standard response from Latin writers of the time in a bid to satisfy the emperor and echo the attitudes of their readers. This is something Nimis discusses in depth as he summarises:
‘Literary sources from the Augustan period on tend to repeat a number of negative clichés and topoi: the treacherous murder of Pompey by Ptolemy xiii, the pernicious attack on the state by the dangerous and seductive Cleopatra, the bizarre worship of animals, Egyptians as cowardly Orientals and barbarians etc.’ (2004: 41)
Roman literature flourished in the Augustan period, and became one of the most important modes of propaganda in which Augustus himself could reinforce his image as the champion of Rome. It was under the patronage of Augustus’ political advisor Maecenas that a new generation of poets – of which Horace is included – were encouraged to write poetry in the interests of the state. Propertius, although an elegist, references Actium several times in his work. Poem IV.6 is a prominent example of this, which celebrates the defeat of Cleopatra. He refers to her only as ‘the female’ – a continued refusal to honour her. Similar sentiments can be seen in III.2: a seemingly anti-Egyptian tone is created by cataloguing Cleopatra’s most negative qualities; he spurns her ‘foul marriage’ (31) to Antony, her ‘yelping’ (41) deities, and her audacity as a woman to threaten a great empire. Nevertheless, as Guy Lee in his own translation of Propertius emphasises, whilst there is typical ‘Augustan’ material within the poems, ‘it is unusual to find it without shades of irony, levels of ambiguity – or sheer cheek.’ (1994: 12) This is perhaps a reflection – verging on mockery – of Augustus’ excessive propaganda campaign against the east.
It is important to note that the majority of those who wrote about Egypt had never actually been there; instead, they based their opinions on the hearsay of the time. Knowledge of the province, then, was surely limited and tainted with misconception. Furthermore, despite being restricted somewhat to write in a way which would please their patron, each poet writes with his own specific intention. Roger Matthews elaborates:
‘Whenever Roman poets refer to Egypt and Egyptians, they do so in the context of their own agendas. For Horace and Virgil, the aim is to celebrate Augustus; Propertius sees Antony’s infatuation with Cleopatra as a parallel to his own “enslavement” to Cynthia;... Lucan sees Egypt as a treacherous country, guilty of the murder of his great tragic hero, Pompey.’ (2003: 213). In spite of this, Matthews continues, Augustan poets can do little but echo Augustus’ propaganda against Cleopatra and present Actium not as a civil war against a fellow Roman, but as a war against an Oriental enemy. This very concept of ‘East versus West’ can be seen most clearly in Virgil’s epic, the Aeneid.
The Aeneid, composed 29-19BC, focuses on the founding of Rome and the legendary tale of Aeneas. The fact that Augustus himself commissioned it is highly significant: it was to become the most significant piece of propaganda to emerge under his reign. The Aeneid sought to associate the emperor with the very foundation of Rome and instil further patriotism within its audience. Book VIII – featuring the visual portrayal of Actium on the shield of Aeneas – is arguably the most significant book for such propaganda. Virgil sacrifices somewhat the ‘true’ version of events at Actium, and instead, depicts the proud, god-like image of Octavian and the people of Rome stand on one side of the shield, and on the other:
‘...with barbaric wealth and motley equipment, is Anthony, fresh from his triumph’s in the East, by the shores of the Indian ocean; Egypt, the powers of the Orient and uttermost Bactra sail with him; also – a shameful thing – his Egyptian wife.’ (VIII.685-8)
The message here is unambiguous. We are to see Egypt – and anything associated with it – not only as inferior, but dangerous and offensive; an appalling inversion of Roman principles. Even Egyptian religious practices, which had maintained a steady following even in the Republic, were gradually eroded. Gregory S. Dundas raises an interesting issue:
‘Augustus was never actually crowned pharaoh. Are we to view in his refusal to undergo the ritual an implicit condemnation and rejection of all things Egyptian, particularly their religion?’ (2002: 442) We have already been told by Dio that his approach to their religion, at least within Rome, was to suppress it, if only in the short-term. We cannot deny that Roman interest Egyptian culture – and indeed, worship of Egyptian gods – existed before Augustus’ rise to power, this is confirmed by the emperor’s own attempts to quash it. M. J. Versluys discusses in detail the significance of Egyptian influences in Rome, suggesting that despite growing animosity towards Egyptians themselves, its culture had a continuous and important cultural role in Rome. We might look at the cult of Isis as an example. It was perhaps the Hellenization of the goddess which encouraged her appeal amongst Roman citizens; the capture of Aegyptus allowed for even greater cultural exchange between Egypt and Rome, and it is Isis, more so than any other Egyptian deity, whose influence can be found most prominent across the empire. For a source which provides a thorough – and apparently objective – account of Isis we would surely look no further than Apuleius. His Metamorphosis story focuses on Lucian, who has been accidentally changed into an ass and only changed back into human form when praying to the goddess, who takes sympathy. This story not only provides us with a full account of Roman ideas of the Isis cult, but also reveals how attitudes towards Egyptian religion were often subject to change. Apuleius displays none of the prejudices that Roman writers often did; it is very possible he simply had a genuine interest in Egypt. Jo-Ann Shelton discusses why despite harsh oppression of the cult in the 30’s BC by Augustus, the worship of Isis remained relatively persistent:
‘The compassionate goddess and loving mother who listened to the prayers of the lowliest individual and who grieved for the suffering of mankind won the personal devotion of Roman citizens as the stern, inaccessible deities of the state religion could not.’ (1988: 404) Nevertheless, it was not until the reign of Commodus that the images of Isis and Serapis were put onto coins and overtly acknowledged.
The strong presence of Egyptian religion was obviously a threat to the Augustan agenda. Versluys continues, ‘In order to let Rome remain the ideal centre of the world, there also had to be negative properties to counterbalance these [dominant] Egyptian influences.’ (2002: 440)
Eric M. Orlin offers some explanation for Augustus’ hostility towards Egyptian beliefs:
‘His behaviour toward Egyptian religion in fact served to underline the distinctions between Roman and foreign religious practices and in so doing to aid in reconstructing the sense of Roman identity that had been shattered by the civil wars of the previous fifty years.’ (2008, 232)
How much of message was taken in by the Roman people is debatable, but examples of genuine distaste for Egyptian culture can be seen many years after the reign of Augustus. Juvenal, a poet and satirist writing several decades after Augustus’ death, makes a scything attack on Egyptian religious practices in his Satires. In book 15, he begins, first and foremost, by listing their non-human gods, manipulating a long standing Roman prejudice against such divinities. (Singleton, 1983: 201) He writes:
‘What monsters demented Egypt worships? One district adores the crocodile, another venerates the Ibis that gorges itself with snakes…In one part cats are worshipped, in another a river fish, in another whole townships venerate a dog; none adore Diana’ (15.1-26)
He takes offense at the Egyptian preoccupation of worshipping animal-gods, a practice unfamiliar to his native Rome. Such disgust, however, was not specific to Juvenal, and it is fair to say that both Greeks and Romans alike were appalled at Egyptian deities which took animal form. Bard makes the interesting observation that such fundamental differences between their respective religious practices served to provoke further tensions between Egypt and Rome:
‘Possibly the more repugnant this practice was to Greeks and Romans, the more it was embraced by the native Egyptians as a symbol of their nationalism.’ (1999: 506)
Nevertheless, Juvenal’s criticisms of Egypt extend further than religion. His subsequent condemnation of Egyptian natives perhaps accounts for why he is seen by Reinhold as even more contemptuous than Dio in his approach to the province. This is reiterated by Matthews:
‘The most venomous revilement comes from Juvenal... his insults are a combination of the old prejudices that had long been commonplace among Rome’s intellectuals, and recent gossip about a particularly revolting incident which seemed to confirm... the negative image of Egyptians.’ (2003: 214)
The fact that he wrote under the genre of satire perhaps gave Juvenal more freedom to express such colourful criticisms; the distinctly highly-educated audience would at the very least have expected some levels of mockery, even rage, as he satirises the morality and beliefs of his contemporaries. Even so, we cannot assume that such emotive language was there because it was expected. Richard McKim identifies that the ‘hot-headed’ outbursts and sentimental moralising prolific in this particular Satire must indeed be read as self-expression on the author’s part.
Juvenal hints that he had visited Egypt at 15.45 (‘Yes, Egypt is sure to be uncouth... I have found.’) He accuses an entire Egyptian race of cannibalism, and compares his controversial story to that of Ulysses, who must also have been thought a liar when he recounted similar stories of the terrible Laestrygonians and the Cyclopes to Alcinous.
As we can see, there is little shortage of material from antiquity which provides us with an insight into the Roman perception of Egypt upon its assimilation into a province. Ian Shaw examines why, even in its earliest days as a province, Egyptian culture remained a constant source of fascination to the Roman minset:
‘Egypt was a land apart – an exotic and distant part of the empire, perhaps more bizarre than any other province. Here, pharaonic culture thrived and a visitor to Roman Egypt would have found himself in a time capsule, for the sights, sounds, and customs of Roman Egypt would have had more in common with pharaonic civilisation than with contemporary Rome.’ (2000: 414)
It is perhaps this very idea – that Egypt was so far culturally removed from Rome – which Augustus played upon during his campaign with Antony. He sought to transform this fascination into fear, as can be observed in many written sources composed in the years after Actium. As Roger Matthews summarises:
‘How much the generally negative image of Egypt, which prevails among Roman writers of the first century AD, owes to Augustus’ negative propaganda is illustrated by a passage in Tacitus.’ (2003: 213)
BIBLIOGRAPHY
Apuleius, Metamorphosis, trans. Adlington, W. (South Dakota, 2007)
Augustus, Res Gestae Divi Augusti, trans. Cooley, A. E. (Cambridge, 2009)
Bard, K. A., Encyclopedia of the Archaeology of Ancient Egypt (London, 1999)
Dio Cassius, Roman History, as translated at
Dundas, G. S., ‘Augustus and the Kingship of Egypt’, Historia: Zeitschrift für Alte Geschichte 51 (4): 2002, pp. 433-448.
Horace, The Complete Odes and Epodes, trans. West, D. (Oxford, 1997)
Juvenal, Satires, as translated at
Matthews, R., Ancient Perspectives on Egypt (London, 2003)
McKim, R., ‘Philosophers and Cannibals: Juvenal’s Fifteenth Satire’, Phoenix 40 (1): 1986, pp. 58-71.
Nimis, S., ‘Egypt in Greco-Roman History and Fiction’, JCP 24: 2004, pp. 34-67.
Orlin, E. M., ‘Octavian and Egyptian Cults: Redrawing the Boundaries of Romanness’, AJP 129 (2): pp. 231-253.
Propertius, The Poems, trans. Lee, G. (Oxford, 1994)
Reinhold, M., ‘Roman Attitudes Towards Egypt’, The Ancient World 3 (1980)
Shaw, I., The Oxford History of Ancient Egypt (Oxford, 2000)
Shelton, J., As The Romans Did: A Sourcebook in Roman Social History (Oxford, 1988)
Singleton, D., ‘Juvenal’s Fifteenth Satire: A Reading’, G&R 30 (2): 1983, pp.198-207.
Tacitus, Histories, trans. Church, A. J., & Brodribb, W. J. (Montana, 2002)
Virgil, The Aeneid, trans. Lewis, C. D. (Oxford, 1986)
Dio 53.2.4 notes how Augustus would not permit Egyptian rites inside the pomerium.