An Accurate Biographical Analysis Of Livia Drusilla

Accurate biographical analysis of Livia Drusilla is difficult because, in addition to the lack of primary source materials regarding Roman women, Livia’s relationship with power and the powerful has placed her among the most polarizing figures in classical history. While imperial statues depict her as a matronly protectress of Rome, historians like Tacitus reviled her as manipulative and treacherous. The biases from both extremes are deeply rooted in the complexities of socio-political maneuvering. However, most sources seem to agree that she held the absolute respect and attention of the people through both fear and love. By peeling away the layers of rhetoric that characterize the traditional images of Augusta, one may come to appreciate

Livia as a complex figure who came to exercise power in her own right.
The historian Tacitus takes a particularly bleak view of Livia’s character.

In Annales 1.10, he says of her the she was “terrible to the State as a mother, terrible to the house of Caesar as a step-mother”. Livia’s characterization throughout the first book is that of a manipulative women who oversteps her role as wife and mother in order to further her own ambitions of power. Tacitus places the guilt for what he sees as the decline of the empire squarely at her feet. In particular, Livia’s support of Tiberius is particularly offensive, implying that she manipulated the line of succession to secure her own son’s rise to power. Her ultimate betrayal is her supposed role in the death of Agrippa Postumus. “Tiberius and Livia, the one from fear, the other from a stepmother’s enmity, hurried on the destruction of a youth whom they suspected and hated”. Yet, all these actions might be considered typical for a Roman political family. It is the association of Livia and the feminine element intruding upon this exclusively male sphere of public life and power that makes her actions apparently unacceptable. Alternatively, one may consider Livia’s actions as being motivating by more realistic concerns, namely supporting the legacy of her child through ensuring the dynastic succession. Whether or not she was actually involved in the conspiracies leveled at her by Tacitus, analyzing her through this lens of an ambitiously maternal figure seems more understandably human. Thus, Livia may

represent the active politicization of maternal values, a statement consistent with her approved image as the ultimate and divine matrona of Rome.
This understanding is somewhat supported by her posthumous image. As described in the remains of Book 5, the public response to Livia’s death was great. Her husband’s passing and subsequent deification had granted her great status including the title Julia Augusta and leadership of Augustus’ cult. The senate sought to confer upon her further honors, including the building of a triumphal arch, but were prevented by Tiberius. Tacitus codes this response as something of a rejection of filial duty and further evidence of the wickedness of both mother and son. An alternative explanation offered by modern historians is that Tiberius was opposed to such a move as he wanted to avoid any appearance of a co-regency, given his somewhat turbulent rise to power and the notable presence of Livia throughout his reign (Kleiner and Matheson, 35). Tacitus makes other jabs at Livia’s legacy, calling her “an unruly mother [and] a complacent wife” (Annales, 5.1). He also takes issue with her “womanly friendships”, revealing his real issue with Livia is her status as a powerful and complex woman whom he is unable to neatly categorize as either murderer or mother.
This latter half of Livia’s personality is depicted in official portraits of her. A small, undated cameo depicts her in the aspect of both matron and goddess alongside a bust of her husband. The small size of the piece, the quality of the craftsmanship, and the relative sizing of the figures all suggest that this gem was intended for a private rather than public audience. However, one can still use this image to understand how Livia was viewed as well as potentially how she saw herself. The face of the figure is generic; although Livia was said to be very beautiful there are no specific accounts or depictions of her attributes. Like Augustus, she remains a somewhat vague amalgamation of idealized features representative of a divine and immortal youthfulness. Her iconic hair in its nodus style is largely obscured by a crown and mantle. The crown may be variously interpreted as representing the goddess Fortunate or Ceres, either of which would emphasize Livia’s elevated maternal role. Both the association with divinity and the crowning of the figure are foreshadowing of Livia’s later deification as Diva Augusta.
This status as goddess and mother is reinforced by the mantle which modestly covers the head, either a palla or the formal stola, both symbols of the matrona. In one hand, she holds what is clearly sheafs of wheat, with the obvious linkage to Ceres. This symbol may also serve as a dual metaphor for her association with Augustus both in her role as his chief priestess and through suggesting his distribution of grain to the citizens of Rome. In her other hand is a bust of Augustus in his deified form. The mirrored positioning of the faces emphasizes the link between the figures, and the analogous forms suggest the partnership of Augustus and Livia. There is also the allusion to Livia’s adoption as Julia Augusta and the theme of dynastic continuance. Finally, Livia is seated in a pose echoed by later works of the Madonna enthroned. Every piece of this carving is carefully symbolic of the Imperial household’s rhetorical stance on Livia as the divine matron of Rome.
In comparing these two images, that of the public Julia Augusta and the counterpart in the private Livia Drusilla.

The histories of Tacitus attempt to project personality upon the public image whereas formal artworks seek to apply image to the private personality. Both are exercises in power, but not by Livia herself. As a woman, even the wife and mother of emperors, Livia is constrained by the official narratives. Neither the severe and manipulative figure presented by Tacitus nor the divinely maternal image depicted in her portraiture gives one access to the essential human personality of Livia. Taken together, one does see common themes. Livia fundamentally defined herself through her role as a mother, both to the continuing imperial dynasty and to the Roman empire itself. This maternal nature was more than passive, and it is likely she was active in the political lives of her children and possibly her husband. Livia’s conception of her role as a mother allowed her to obtain a more powerful position than allowed by traditional conceptions of the matrona. This sort of feminine intrusion into the public sphere of politics was a source of both reverence and revilement to her contemporaries and later historians, and consequently produced biased and often conflicting reports. As both a private figure and a public actor, as a wife and mother, as a goddess and a empress, Livia was a more complex individual than can be understood through any single image of

her.