Velleius Paterculus: The Roman History
Reflections on Augustus, Sir Ronald Syme, and "Amateur History"
Free advice: if you’re reading at a bar or coffee shop and someone asks you what you’re reading, answer honestly, with enthusiasm and confidence. You should do so regardless of who asks you the question. Hesitancy to engage is usually rooted in petty snobbery—“why would a guy in overalls care about Stendhal?”—or insecurity—“she might think I’m a dork!” Neither feelings are good policy, and foreclose a potentially interesting conversation—perhaps with someone who knows more about your book than you do.
Cut scene to your blogger’s neighborhood bar a few Saturdays ago, surprisingly empty (sans me) at lunchtime. Book out, I ordered a beer. Mid pour, the bartender popped the question. Did I take my own advice? Yes, but even I blanched at the answer: “Velleius Paterculus.” 2 names! So many syllables! It sounds pretentious! (Of course, the bartender couldn’t have been friendlier and the conversation moved from my book to the opening battle scene of Gladiator.)
In any event, I shouldn’t have been sheepish. While he’s often forgotten (for his “amateurish” style) and criticized when he’s remembered (for writing Augustan “propaganda”), Velleius is my favorite Roman historian.
The extant portions of his work, The Roman History,1 provide a survey of events and personalities from the 160s BC to Tiberius’s reign. In the process, Velleius describes his experience as an officer under Tiberius’s command, and gives the only surviving firsthand assessment of Augustus’s successor. Originally of equestrian, not senatorial, rank, Velleius also writes from the perspective of his order. For these reasons, The Roman History is a nice compliment to Tacitus’s writings on the imperial regime, the broad histories of Appian and Cassius Dio, and the character studies of Suetonius and Plutarch. Velleius also has a sunny personality and good sense of humor, which make him fun to read.
While I’d been intending to write a post on Velleius for a while—I read a good translation by JC Yardley and Anthony Barrett last year—I got an added push from the Loeb Classical Library, which just released a stand-alone edition of The Roman History, translated by AJ Woodman, last month.2 Velleius getting his own Loeb is a big deal: the old Loeb edition somewhat meanly (and somewhat funnily) paired his work with the Res Gestae, Augustus’s PR-oriented summation of his achievements. In honor of Velleius’s newfound respect (and my hipness as an original fan), let’s dive in!3
PS: Substack informed me that this post is “too long for email.” If it gets clipped, check out the full post at my main Substack site.
Velleius
Velleius was probably born around 20 BC, to a prominent Campanian family. Velleius’s grandfather, Gaius, was a close associate of Tiberius Nero—the first husband of Livia (yes, that Livia) and father of the future emperor. Like his patron, Gaius had questionable loyalties to the Caesarian cause. After the would-be Liberators were defeated at Philippi, Tiberius Nero and Gaius supported Antony in the Perusine War. If they hoped that the spat between Antony (really his wife, Fulvia) and Octavian would permanently end the Triumvirate and reinvigorate the Senatorial position, things couldn’t have turned out worse. After a brief conflict, Antony reconciled with Octavian and married Octavia, Octavian’s sister. Tiberius Nero, with Livia and the infant Tiberius in tow, fled to Sicily. Gaius committed suicide.
Defeat for one generation, however, was victory for another. Velleius’s father (who is unnamed in Velleius or elsewhere) and his uncle, Capito, supported Octavian. While Capito became a senator and worked for Agrippa, Velleius’s father remained an equestrian, serving in the army, and ended his career as a cavalry commander in Germania. The fact that Velleius’s immediate family were of equestrian rank may explain his positive view of the Principate, the new monarchical system instituted by Octavian. Wary that senators might use provincial commands to build financial and military resources sufficient to challenge his position, Octavian opened certain offices to equestrians and even specified that some (i.e., in Egypt) could not be held by senators. This approach provided new opportunities to “new men”4 like Velleius, who were elite and Roman but not elites in Rome.
Velleius made full use of these opportunities, initially following his father into the army as an officer. Among other places, he served in the east (where he witnessed Gaius, Augustus’s grandson, meet the Parthian king), Germania (where, he notes with pride, he took his father’s rank under Tiberius, and helped to salvage the Roman position after defeat in the Teutoburg Forest), and Illyricum (where he again served with Tiberius and commanded an army that put down a native rebellion). Between these military postings, Velleius served as Quaestor (in 6 AD) and Praetor (for which his nomination, in 14 AD was made by Augustus, but confirmed by Tiberius after the former’s death).
After the praetorship, Velleius seems to have retired and developed an interest in arts and letters. It is unclear when he started writing The Roman History, but he probably finished it in 30 AD, when the narrative stops. It’s unclear what happened to Velleius in later life, but he may have had two sons, Gaius and Lucius, both of whom maintained senatorial rank and were elected as suffect consuls in the 60s AD.
The Roman History
The Roman History is epistolary—it contains interjections to Marcus Vinicius, the son of Velleius’s first military commander, who was elected consul in 30 AD—and in two books. The first book, which is largely lost, likely began with the Trojan War and ends with Mummius’s destruction of Corinth in 146 BC. The second book, which is largely extant, begins with the final destruction of Carthage in that same year and concludes during Tiberius’s reign in AD 30.
Velleius intended The Roman History to be a brief survey, and assumed his readers had general knowledge of the events he described. This structure permits him to engage in frequent digressions (for which he sometimes asks the reader’s forgiveness) on a variety of topics—Homer, the founding of Roman colonies, his family, and the nature of historiography.
It is unclear whether Velleius was widely read in the ancient world. Priscian, the sixth century grammarian, quotes a line from The Roman History, but Velleius is otherwise not mentioned by classical writers. Despite his apparent status as a nonentity, Velleius must have had some readership, as The Roman History survived the end of Rome. In 1515, a corrupt and damaged manuscript of Velleius was discovered in Alsatian abbey by Beatus Rhenanus, a German scholar. Rhenanus published the manuscript, which he titled “The Roman History,” in 1520.
While he has remained in print ever since, Velleius’s longevity hasn’t given him cachet. The first sentence of the old Loeb edition delivers a verdict before presenting the charges: “Velleius Paterculus does not rank among the great Olympians of classical literature either as stylist or as historian.”5
WHY should you read Velleius?
Despite Velleius’s reputation as a second-rate writer, there are three reasons you should read him.
His support for the Augustan political settlement;
His character sketches of important historical figures; and
His digressions on topics of personal interest.
We’ll address each in turn.
The Augustan Political Settlement
In the latter part of The Roman History, Velleius discusses Tiberius. His view of the emperor is uniformly positive. In addition to presenting the rosiest possible view of Tiberius’s activities before Augustus’s death—for example, Velleius says that Tiberius left Rome for Rhodes so as not to be an obstacle to the advancement of Augustus’s (natural) grandsons, Gaius and Lucius—he also has good things to say about his reign. For example, here is Velleius’s summation of Tiberius’s years in power:
Caesar [i.e., Tiberius] saw to his father’s [Augustus’s] deification, not out of state duty but from personal scruple; he did not just call him a god, he made him one. Credit has been restored to the Forum; and sedition has been removed from the Forum, political corruption from the Campus, discord from the senate house. Justice, equity, and industry, which had long lain buried and covered with decay, have been given back to the state. . . . Right is honored, wrong is punished. The lowly man looks up to but does not fear the powerful man; the powerful man has precedence over but does not despise the lowlier man.
* * *
The pax Augustua has spread throughout the lands of the east and the west, and to the regions bounded by the north and south, keeping men safe from the fear of armed robbery in all corners of the world. . . . Influence gives place to fairness, corruption to merit; for our excellent princeps teaches his citizens to act correctly by doing so himself, and while he is the greatest in terms of power, he is greater still in the example he sets. [2.126, pp 142 – 143.]
In the context of further praise of Tiberius—for his willingness to reward talented men, regardless of their station—Velleius even has kind things to say about Sejanus, the ill-fated praetorian prefect who governed Rome when the emperor retired to Capri:
Eminent men rarely fail to enlist the services of great assistants in the management of their fortunes. Thus the two Scipios made use of the two Laelii, whom they placed on the same level as themselves in everything; and the deified Augustus made use of Marcus Agrippa[.] . . . Following these examples, Tiberius Caesar has had, and still has, Aeilus Sejanus as a peerless assistant in all his onerous imperial tasks. . . . Sejanus himself has a great capacity for work and loyal service, and his physique matches his mental vigor. He is a man who combines old-time gravity with cheery lightheartendess, and one who, when he is in action, seems to be at east. [2.127, pp 143 – 144]
Velleius’s high opinion of Tiberius and Sejanus is not shared by other Roman writers. Tacitus, in the Annals, presents Tiberius as an intelligent, but ultimately depraved man, who descended into perversion and madness as his reign progressed. Likewise, Suetonius, in The Twelve Caesars, praises Tiberius’s conduct in the early years of his reign, but mostly focuses on Tiberius’s alleged sadism and abuse of Senators and their children on Capri. As for Sejanus, the less that is said the better. Tacitus attributes some of Tiberius’s worst excesses to Sejanus’s influence, while Suetonius portrays him as power-hungry parvenu, whom Tiberius allowed free rein so long as his actions advanced his interests.
Because Velleius is an outlier in his assessment of these figures, modern scholars have accused him of being a propagandist for the Principate generally and Tiberius in particular. The great classicist Sir Ronald Syme, for instance, had many things to say about Velleius, none of them complimentary:
The distinguished scholar Ronald Syme regarded Velleius “a government writer” with utter contempt: “His loyal fervour insists everywhere on rendering praise where praise is safe and profitable, with manifold convolutions of deceit and flattery.” Syme judged him “mendacious,” “fraudulent,” and “obsequious.” Even from the grave he continued the tirade, in a collection of essays on Strabo published posthumously, where he described Velleius as a “poisonous fountain,” given to “omitting what he cannot distort.” [Yardley, p xxxi]
Leaving aside the genuine hilarity of the “poisonous fountain” insult, is any of the above fair? Probably not. The Roman History is just that—a complete history of Rome. As such, Velleius doesn’t even mention Tiberius until the work is almost concluded. If his intent was to write pro-Tiberian propaganda, why would Velleius write a book that described all of known history, as opposed to a tight, time-limited hagiography of the emperor? The “fraudulent” appellation is also hard to substantiate. Velleius is often corroborated by Tacitus and Suetonius (and to a lesser degree, Appian and Cassius Dio). Where he diverges from these sources, he is at least offering a different interpretation of the same events. Who’s to say Velleius is the propagandist and these other writers aren’t?
Moreover, Velleius’s politics are hard to pin down. At various points he praises Marius, both Catos, Cicero (for whom he has special admiration), Pompey, Caesar, Cassius, Agrippa, and Octavian. He also condemns the policies of Gracchi (describing them as “lunacy”6) and Sulla’s proscriptions (“it was he who initially established the precedent of proscription—and I wish he had been the last to use it!”7)—odd sentiments for a diehard Caesarian. The only person for whom Velleius has sustained antipathy is Antony.
The inconsistencies in the above suggest that Velleius was not a pro-Augustan hack, but a normal person. Like most people, his political beliefs—insofar as he had any—didn’t make sense. He admired many Roman political leaders, of all political stripes, who he believed had virtuous qualities. His hero worship of Tiberius, with whom he served in numerous campaigns and personally knew, likely stems from the fact that Tiberius was a brave, successful, and generous commander. Many old soldiers, in ancient times and modern ones, have similar feelings toward their commanding officers. And if Velleius was happy about Augustus’s new order—well, who wasn’t? Sure, some Senators, who no longer had the political freedom to challenge the preeminence of Augustus’s family, and who could no longer resist the (sometimes arbitrary) personal cruelties of the monarch. But they were a vanishingly small minority in a vast empire. It is likely that most Romans rejoiced in the stability provided by Augustus and his heirs, which brought an end to almost 100 years of continuous civil conflict.
The last point gets to the heart of the matter, and explains why Syme expressed his opinion of Velleius in such vitriolic terms. Velleius is a proxy for one’s opinions about the Augustan political settlement. If you think the Principate, and the peace and development it brought, were on balance a good thing, you probably will have a positive opinion of The Roman History—or limit your criticism to Velleius’s breeziness and amateurish style. If you think Augustus and his successors were tyrants who snuffed Roman liberty, you probably will view The Roman History as public relations for disgraced Julio-Claudians.
Character Sketches
Velleius provides some great character sketches as he bounds through 1,000 years of Roman political life. These are often brief, but can provide added color to the profiles contained in Suetonius, Plutarch, and Tacitus. Here are some of my favorites.
Marius:
Marius, who was of equestrian stock, was an uncouth and rough character but had a virtuous lifestyle. His fine qualities in war, however, were matched by bad ones in times of peace; he had an inordinate thirst for glory, his ambition was insatiable, he lacked self-control, and he was always restless. [2.11.1, p 28 -29]
Mithridates:
Mithridates, king of Pontus, is not a person to be passed over in silence or taken lightly. Dynamic in warfare and possessed of outstanding courage, he was a great man and, though sometimes great through luck, he was always great in spirit; in planning he was a general but in action a soldier, and for the Romans he had the hatred of a Hannibal. [2.18.1, p 35]
Sulla:
So unlike were Sulla the warrior and Sulla the victor: while winning his victories he was more lenient than the most reasonable man, but after a victory he was more ruthless than any on record. . . . I suppose his aim was to provide a clear example of a dual and contradictory character in the same person!” [2.25.3, p 42]
Pompey:
He possessed strikingly good looks, not those that characterize the bloom of youth but the kind that came from an enduring dignity and matched his distinction and good fortune—looks that remained with him till his final day. He was a man of outstanding integrity and exceptional moral probity but mediocre oratorical ability. He had a fervent craving for power that could be conferred on him as a mark of distinction, but not power needing to be taken by force; he was a very skillful military commander and in civilian life the most level-headed citizen, except when he feared he might have an equal. IN friendships he was steadfast; he could be moved by appeals when wronged; he was extremely loyal when reconciliation was affected; and he very readily accepted apologies. He never, or only rarely, employed his power to excess and was almost completely free of character flaws, unless indignation over seeing anyone equal to him in prestige is to be counted among the greatest of flaws in a free state that is mistress of the world, a state in which one would be right to regard all citizens as one’s equals. [2.29.2 – 5, p 46]
Agrippa:
Agrippa was a man of outstanding courage who could not be overcome by toil, lack of sleep, or danger. He knew very well how to give obedience, but to one man alone; when it came to others he was very eager to command, and he avoided delay in everything, making decisions and their implementation in a single act. [2.79.1, p 97]
The Power of Amateurism
Throughout this post, I’ve referred to Velleius’s “amateurish” nature. This can have two applications: as a stylist and as an historian. While it may sound pejorative, it doesn’t have to be. If, like me, you can no longer read Latin, Velleius’s style doesn’t matter as much, because you’re reading a translated (read: adulterated) version anyway. And what’s wrong with an amateur historian writing history? Not knowing what they don’t (or “shouldn’t”) know, amateurs can provide real-world insight on, or be unafraid to ask, questions that experienced academics can’t, or would rather avoid. Amateur history also tends to be experience-driven, and can thus serve as a primary source for later scholars.
Velleius is a historian in this tradition. He is the Roman equivalent of the good-natured ex-serviceman who, in later life, became an enthusiastic reader, and self-publishes a memoir. The Roman History feels vital in a way that Tacitus, the arch-stylist and professional writer, does not. Velleius’s digressions—which include proud descriptions of his ancestors and loving passages on his native Campania—may be irrelevant to his broader subject. But they make their author shine through as a real person, 2,000 years after he wrote them.
After apologizing in advance for burdening his reader with what he says are “superfluous details,” Velleius closes the first book by asking why certain ages produce a surfeit of outstanding men, while others do not:
I am unable to resist putting into writing something I have often pondered in my mind but have not completely reasoned out. What can be more astonishing than this, that the most outstanding minds in each area of expertise have been clustered together for the same intellectual endeavor and have fallen within a very restricted time span? . . . One era, which lasted not many years, threw tragedy into relief, thanks to Aeschylus, Sophocles, and Euripides, men of divine inspiration[.] . . . . Then, too, there were all the philosophers, whose genius originated with the words of Socrates[.] How long was their heyday after the death of Plato and Aristotle? [1.16.1 – 5, p 13]
He ventures an answer:
Competition nourishes genius, and envy in some cases, and admiration in others, sparks imitation; and any endeavor conducted with the utmost application swiftly reaches the highest level. Staying at that level of perfection, however, is difficult, and it is only natural for what cannot go forward to go back. At the start we burn with desire to overtake those whom we perceive as being ahead of us; but, when we have lost all hope of being able to pass them or even reach their level, our enthusiasm declines along with our hope. It stops chasing after what it cannot catch and, leaving the field of endeavor as being one dominated by another, it seeks a new one. Abandoning the area in which we cannot be outstanding, we search for something in which we can shine; and the natural result is that such frequent and volatile changes represent a very great impediment to the perfection of any oeuvre. [1.18.5 – 7, 15]
Velleius lived at the tail-end of the period he describes—when the Roman republic, in its death throes, produced the greatest set of political and military leaders that have ever lived. Their competition to outshine one another destroyed the state that produced them. The tragedy of Augustus, and the political system he created, is that he bought stability by foreclosing the ability of Roman men to engage in that competition, and have their glory reflect on Rome. If Velleius had lived a century later, he might have asked whether Augustus’s bargain was a good one.
Some preliminary throat clearing regarding names: “The Roman History” is probably not the book’s original title. While the surviving portions of Velleius’s writings don’t have a title—he refers to his writings as his “opus,” or work—the text has been referred to as “The Roman History” since its rediscovery in the 1500s. Nominal uncertainty even extends to Velleius himself. “Velleius Paterculus” is not his praenomen, or given name, but his nomen and cognomen (family name and (probably inherited) nickname). Various sources list his praenomen as Marcus or Gaius, but it is unclear whether these are accurate, and he has been called “Velleius” since his rediscovery.
The Yardley translation has a great introduction, footnotes, and bibliography. The original Loeb edition, translated by Frederick W. Shipley, is dated (1924) but also has a nice introduction, and gives a good sense of the low esteem in which Velleius was held by most classicists until recent times. I haven’t read the new Loeb edition by AJ Woodman, but Woodman is a longstanding Velleius scholar and I am sure the introduction and updated bibliography are worthwhile. Check out all three editions!
Unless otherwise noted, all quotations and page numbers below are from the Yardley translation (Velleius Paterculus, The Roman History trans. J.C. Yardley and Anthony Barrett (Indianapolis: Hackett, 2011)).
This is a bit of a misnomer, because Velleius’s uncle served in the Senate. That said, Velleius’s family was certainly “provincial” in our sense, in that they weren’t from Rome, the great metropolitan center. (To add further difficulty—my use of “provincial” in the preceding sentence also isn’t really appropriate, given that Velleius’s family was not “provincial” to the Romans—they were Roman, from Italy—not foreigners or Romans from an overseas province.)
Velleius Paterculus and Res Gestae Divi Augusti, Velleius Paterculus and Augustus trans. Frederick W. Shipley (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1924), viii.
2.6.1, p 22.
2.28.3, p 45.