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A Roman emperor was defined not simply by his own actions, but also by the manner in which he presented himself, the way he appeared in public, and the personal style he adopted in his interaction with the Senate and the people. A major element of that style lay in the manner of his domestic life and, closely related to this, how he handled the rituals associated with the imperial residence, such as the salutation and, above all, the invitations to an imperial convivium. Should the power of the emperor be put on display or concealed? In what kinds of settings should he carry out his duties? How could he simultaneously show off his status and power while playing the princeps in the manner of Augustus? It was evident from the very start that here was a fundamental flaw in the artful construction of Augustus. This is most evident in the honorific statues and other monuments associated with the worship of the emperor, in which Augustus and his Julio-Claudian successors, during their lifetimes, were represented both as civic officials in the toga and as nude figures with bodies modelled on gods and heroes. This chapter tries to understand better the new residence that Domitian built on the Palatine, at vast expense, to the plans of the architect Rabirius (according to Martial 7. 56), as a monument of imperial projection.

Quintus Horatius Flaccus brought his first three books of Odes before the public in 23 bc. They came with impressive sponsors, addressed to Maecenas, the second to the Princeps himself, the fourth to L. Sestius and M. Agrippa. Horace did not repeat, in books 1 to 3, the bold stroke of directly addressing the Princeps; that was reserved for book 4, odes 5 and 15. This chapter describes his relation to Augustus, and the relation of his poetry to the imperial propaganda. What is called ‘Augustan poetry’ is so intimately connected with the estimate of the crucial event in Roman history, the change from Republic to Empire, that both historians and literary scholars find the question fascinating.

This chapter explores the printing of Apuleius' works. In 1464, two German clerics, Konrad Sweynheim and Arnold Pannartz, arrived at the Benedictine monastery of Santa Scolastica in Subiaco, 47 miles to the east of Rome. What made these new arrivals unique was their baggage. They brought with them items that had never been used before in Italy: cases of movable type, that marvel of 15th-century German ingenuity which had transformed the familiar technology of agricultural extraction (the screw-press) into an engine of reproduction. In 1469, the editio princeps of Apuleius' works appeared (without commentary) in Rome, the colophon being dated 28 February. The folio was edited by Sweynheim and Pannartz's corrector, the Bishop of Aleria (in Corsica), Giovanni Andrea de Bussi (Johannes Andreas de Buxis), and dedicated to no less a personage than Pope Paul II (1464-71) who had appointed him papal librarian in 1467.

Caesar's Gallic campaign was unprovoked and led to the destruction of the old civilisation, which was gradually replaced by a Romanised one; and Pliny and Plutarch agreed that it was an act of genocide of monstrous proportions. It was all for one end: the protagonist and instigator of the venture cynically used the genocide in the political struggle at home. Part of his objective was also to capture a huge number of slaves who were useful for demagogic purposes. Caesar knew well that, without a counter to Pompey's military glory, an equal division of power with him would be impossible, especially after Crassus' death. Thus the impressive military achievement in Gaul in the years 58–51 bc reveals itself as a twofold triumph: it was the vehicle of Romanisation of a large part of the North European West; and at the same time it provided the aspiring princeps with the authority, military and legal, that he needed, as part of a long praeparatio for the day of reckoning and civil war.

Because making modifications to the original texts of the New Testament was not thought of as something unethical, there is a chance that the New Testament we are familiar with today does not possess the same wordings as the Greek manuscripts. More importance, however, is given to the other features of the Canonical Edition than to the exact text wordings. While these features can be observed in new printed editions of the bible, modern contextual criticism is employed to come up with an edition that signifies the editio princeps of the Canonical Edition. As the author believes that the original intent of the texts should be considered for the redactional design, he suggests that several changes, like the ones discussed in this chapter, be integrated in modern versions of the Christian Bible.

This chapter discusses the accession of Vespasian and also looks at how Roman ideology enters a new phase—that of superstitio—in which Roman society legitimates the princeps as a military dictator by believing he has literal, godlike powers. Tacitus allows that of all the previous emperors, Vespasian was the only one who changed for the better, and speaks well of his soldierly abilities while simultaneously mentioning his stinginess. However, the latter trait, reminiscent of Galba, does not bode well. Tacitus also remarks upon the fact that to pay for munitions, Vespasian imposes a heavy financial burden, sustained by delationes, upon the wealthy; it is a practice that does not cease with the war.

This chapter analyzes the Arch of Constantine in Rome. First, it focuses on the roles of the SPQR and the emperor in the arch's design. In particular, the chapter deals with Constantine's role, or his conception of his role in the urbs, in the arch's imagery. Second, this chapter examines the meaning of the claim triumphis insignem—that is, that an arch, still customarily associated with triumph by the fourth century, was in this instance bestowed for a new purpose with a unique rationale, in a particular historical context, despite a lack of any persuasive evidence that an official triumph was actually celebrated. And finally, this chapter elucidates the arch's evocation of the emperor's role, both at home and abroad, as both civilis princeps and imperator exercitus.

This chapter discusses the beginning of the principate, which marked the introduction of changes to virtually every area of the political and social life of Rome's leading citizens and of their families, and notes that the figure of the princeps, the leading man in Rome, now overshadowed the achievements and ambitions of others. It notes further that his family evolved from being a branch of the Iulii Caesares to being the domus Augusta, eventually even described as the domus divina. The chapter observes that the Augustan age fostered a renewed sense of memoria and of its uses, and notes that the distant past became fashionable and was recalled and re-created in a wide variety of monuments and rituals. It adds that new “memories” were also fashioned, memories that revolved around the central role of the princeps as leading citizen and savior of Rome.

This chapter begins with a discussion of what Seneca theorizing is about, and to what purpose. It then turns to the relevance of De beneficiis to contemporary Roman society; De beneficiis as a reaction to social change; the aristocratic code and the Princeps; the social aspect of civilitas; the limitations of Seneca's perspective on beneficence; and the personal perspective of the amicus principis on beneficence.