Cassius Dio’s (ca. 150–235 C.E.) eighty-volume Roman History was the result of more than twenty years of scholarly labor. Written when the Roman Empire was near the peak of its size and power, Dio’s work covered the entire span of Roman history, from Rome’s mythic origins all the way up to 229 C.E. In this excerpt, Octavian delivers a speech to his troops on the eve of their clash with the forces of Antony and Cleopatra. It should be noted that while Dio’s History was the result of extensive archival research, like other historians of his era, he did not think it inappropriate to put words into the mouths of his subjects when direct evidence did not exist. Thus the excerpt included below is not a transcription of Octavian’s words, but rather Dio’s considered opinion about what Octavian was likely to have said. In Dio’s version, Octavian delivers a speech that seems as much aimed at swaying Roman public opinion as it does at rallying his troops for battle. As you read, pay particular attention to the contrast the speech creates between Roman and “foreign” values.

“Since I have observed, soldiers, both from what I have learned through hearsay and from what I have tested by experience, that the majority and the greatest deeds of war, or rather of all affairs of men, favor those who think and act justly and reverently, I have carefully considered this truth and I urge you to heed it as well. Accordingly, even if we have extremely numerous and impressive forces, with which even a man who chose the less just cause might hope to conquer, nevertheless I have much more courage based on the causes of the war than on these forces. Indeed, for us as Romans, rulers of the largest and best part of the world, to be disparaged and downtrodden by an Egyptian woman is unworthy of our fathers, who conquered Pyrrhus, Philip, Perseus, and Antiochus, who routed the Numantians and the Carthaginians, who slaughtered the Cimbri and Ambrones; it is also unworthy of ourselves, who subdued the Gauls, mastered the Pannonians, reached the Ister, crossed the Rhine, and voyaged to Britain. How could all those who accomplished the deeds I have mentioned not be greatly aggrieved, if they heard that we had been overthrown by a ruinous woman? How would we not be behaving indecorously if, after surpassing everyone everywhere in excellence, we should then mildly endure these outrages of these people, who—Hercules—are Alexandrians and Egyptians (for what else would be more shameful or more true to call them?), who honor as gods lizards and other creatures, who preserve their bodies to make them appear immortal, who are very rash in boasting but very weak in courage, and, what is worst of all, who are slaves to a woman instead of a man, but dared to try to take our goods and to take possession of them with our help, so that we willingly yield to them the wealth that is ours?

“Who would not be dismayed to see the queen of the Egyptians with Roman bodyguards? Who would not lament to hear that Roman knights and Senators fawn over her like eunuchs? Who would not moan to hear and see Antony himself, twice a consul, many times a commander, to whom, along with me, leadership was entrusted and so many cities, so many legions—who would not weep to see that he has now left behind his ancestral customs, that he has imitated foreign and barbaric ones, that he does not respect the laws or gods of his ancestors, but bows before that woman like Isis or Selene, names her children Helios and Selene, and finally calls himself Osiris and Dionysus, and, after all these things, he gives as gifts whole islands and parts of continents, as if he were the lord of the whole earth and sea? These things seem unbelievable and amazing to you soldiers, I know; and because of that, you should be even more outraged. Indeed, if what you do not believe when you hear it turns out to be true, and if that man commits crimes of luxury at which anyone would shudder to learn, then how is it not appropriate for your anger to know no bounds?

“And yet, at first, I was so enthusiastic about him that I shared with him my command, married my sister to him, and gave him legions. After this, I was so sympathetic and kind to him that I did not wish to go to war with him because he insulted my sister, or because he did not care for the children he had with her, or because he honored the Egyptian woman instead of her, or because he gave that woman almost all the things that are rightfully yours, or because of anything else. I considered the first reason to be that the same approach should not be taken with both Cleopatra and Antony, for she was clearly an enemy because of what she did and also because she was a foreigner, but he, as a citizen, might possibly be reasoned with. Secondly, I hoped that, even if he did not want to, he might, under duress, change his mind because of the decrees passed against Cleopatra. Because of this, I did not declare war on him. But he, since he despises and disparages these favors, he will not receive pardon, even if we wish to grant it, and will not receive pity, even if we feel it. He is either irrational or insane (for I have heard this and believe that he is under that abominable woman’s spell) and has no respect for our magnanimity and kindness, but, since he is enslaved to that woman, he brings war and its dangers, which he voluntarily incurs on her behalf, against us and against his fatherland. Therefore, what choice do we have but to defend ourselves against him and Cleopatra?

“Therefore, let no one consider him a Roman, but rather an Egyptian; let no one call him Antony, but rather Serapion; let no one believe that he was at one time a consul or commander, but rather a gymnasiarch. He himself has chosen willingly the latter rather than the former titles; casting off all the respectable titles of his homeland, he has become a cymbal player of Canopus. Let no one fear that he will turn the tide of war, for previously he was nothing outstanding, as those of you who beat him at Mutina know well. But even if at one time he had some success in an expedition when he was on our side, be confident that now he has destroyed his abilities through his change in lifestyle: it is not possible for someone living in royal luxury and being treated like a woman to think or act like a man, because it is always true that one’s behavior reflects one’s way of life. As evidence, I submit that he, having fought one battle in all this time and having engaged in one campaign, lost many citizens in the battle, shamefully retreated from Praaspa, and lost many more in the flight. As a result, if this were a contest of dancing ridiculously or comic buffoonery and one of us had to compete against him, our man would surely lose, for Antony is the expert in these skills; since, however, the contest is one of weapons and battle, what could anyone fear from him? The fitness of his body? He is over the hill and thoroughly effeminate. His mental powers? He has the mind of a woman and the physical desires of one too. His respect for our gods? He fights against them as he does against our homeland. His loyalty to his allies? Who does not know that he deceived the Armenian and put him in chains? His fairness to his friends? Who has not seen those whom he has wickedly destroyed? His reputation among the soldiers? Who among them has not condemned him? This is evident because crowds of them desert to our side on a daily basis. Indeed, I think that all of our citizens will follow suit, just as has happened previously, when he went from Brundisium to Gaul. As long as the men expected to enrich themselves without risk, some were very happy to be among his troops, but they will not wish to fight against us, their fellow citizens, on behalf of things that are not theirs, especially it is possible for them to be safe and to get rich without danger if they join us.

“But someone will say that he has many allies and great wealth. How, then, were we able to conquer the inhabitants of the Asian continent? Scipio Asiaticus knows, as do fortunate Sulla, Lucullus, Pompey, my father Caesar, and you yourselves who conquered those who fought with Brutus and Cassius. If this is true, then, insofar as you think that the riches of Antony and his allies is greater than that of others, you should desire even more to take it for yourselves: to win the greatest prizes, one must undertake the greatest contests. And I can honestly tell you that there is no other prize for you greater than to protect the reputation of your ancestors, to preserve your own way of thinking, to punish those who rebel against us, to avenge the outrages against us, to vanquish and rule over all people, and to overlook no woman who would consider herself equal to a man. Against the Taurisci, the Iapydes, the Dalmatians, and the Pannonians you, who are now present, have fought bravely, often over a few walls and some deserted land, and you conquered all these peoples, even though they are extremely hostile. By Jupiter, you also contended with Sextus Pompey, with only Sicily as a prize, and with Antony himself, with only Mutina as a prize, and you conquered both of them. Will you be less determined against a woman plotting against everything that is yours, or against a man who has given your property away to her children, or against their illustrious companions and dinner guests, whom they themselves refer to as buffoons? What reason would you have? Their superior numbers? No number of bodies can compete with courage. Their race? They are used to carrying loads, not carrying on wars. Their experience? They know how to row, not how to fight at sea. I am embarrassed that we are to fight such people: if we conquer them, we will not enhance our reputation, but if we are defeated, we will bring shame upon ourselves.”

Source: Prudence J. Jones, ed., Cleopatra: A Sourcebook (Norman: University of Oklahoma Press, 2006), pp. 136–140.

QUESTIONS TO CONSIDER