First Ladies: Antonia Minor

by Heather Domin

In Ancient Rome women rarely held official positions, but often wielded considerable power behind the scenes. One of the best examples of this is Antonia Minor: daughter, niece, wife, mother, aunt, and grandmother of powerful Roman men, and in her own right one of the most powerful women in Roman history.

the Juno Ludovisi,
a portrait of Antonia Minor

Antonia was born in 36 BCE, the younger of two daughters born to Marc Antony and Octavia Minor. She never knew her father, who left his family for his ill-fated affair with Queen Cleopatra when Antonia was a toddler; she was raised by her mother and her uncle Octavian (soon to be known as Caesar Augustus) as part of a collection of important children brought up within Augustus' oversight, the offspring of family, friends, and enemies. Growing up in such an environment, Antonia must have learned the ways of Rome from an early age. She learned them well indeed.

At age 20 she married her step-cousin Drusus, the darling of the Roman military world. For seven years they were the power couple of Rome, touted by the Princeps as models of conservative Roman family values; in a time when the government had to browbeat the upper class into having children, Antonia was pregnant at least 5 times in 7 years (though only 3 children lived). She accompanied her husband on campaign and was so beloved by his soldiers that they called her "Mother of the Legions". By all accounts they were truly in love – there are no stories of either party having affairs, which was nearly unheard of in aristocratic Roman society. I often wonder how Antonia’s life might have been if Drusus had succeeded Augustus and she had become the true first lady of Rome, living happily ever after with her husband and children. Alas, that was not to be. In 9BCE Drusus died at the age of 29, leaving Antonia a widow at 27.

Rather than shrinking into the background, Antonia remained influential – and single – for the rest of her life. The Senate recognized her with honors and offered her the title Augusta, a distinction that had only been given to one other woman (her equally formidable aunt Livia, wife of Augustus). She'd inherited a lot of property and money from her father and husband, and she managed it on her own, interacting with male associates on terms of equality as an independent businesswoman. She and her aunt Livia oversaw the Julio-Claudian dynasty with a steely authority that earned them both the enmity of Roman writers, who tended to view strong women as cold, ruthless, vain, and unnatural.

coin featuring Antonia's profile
and the title Antonia Augusta

It's true that when it came to running the family business, Antonia did not let maternal instincts get in the way. She showed disdain for her youngest child, the stammering Claudius, mocking him as stupid and even calling him a monster. Roman attitudes to physical impairment surely colored her judgment, but it could be she just didn't like him. Perhaps losing Drusus had hardened her beyond such tenderness. But she couldn’t have been entirely without feeling – like her uncle Augustus, she collected the offspring of dead relations and raised a household of other people's children. She outlived several of them, including two of her own children: her son Germanicus followed in his father's footsteps by dying young of mysterious circumstances, while her only daughter Livilla masterminded a plot to assassinate Tiberius in 31CE. Antonia administered swift and merciless punishment, locking her daughter away and possibly starving her to death. No matter what else, loyalty to the family must always come first. 

At the age of 73, Antonia Minor died the same way she had lived: on her own terms, and by her own strength. When her grandson Caligula refused to listen to her advice and showed himself entirely unconcerned with the family's honor, she committed suicide as an act of protest. If only she had waited a little longer and seen her youngest son come to power, she could have known that not everything in her life was destined to come to a tragic end. Her stupid little monster ended up becoming one of the greatest emperors in Roman history.

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Heather Domin is the author of The Heirs of Fortune, set in Augustan Rome, in which Antonia Minor plays a small but important role. She has been a contributing member of Unusual Historicals since 2011.

Happily Ever After (or Not): Drusus Germanicus and Antonia Minor

by Heather Domin

You don’t see a lot of epic romances in Roman history – partnerships, sure, passions, affairs, a few obsessions here and there, but not many great true-love matches. The tendency toward political and arranged marriages among the upper classes did not give much consideration to marital love (hence the affairs). But there were exceptions of course, and for me one of the greatest and most bittersweet is the short marriage of Claudius Drusus, aka Drusus the Elder or Drusus Germanicus, and Antonia Minor.

one of the few likenesses
of Drusus the Elder

Drusus was the son of Augustus’ wife Livia from her first marriage, raised from the age of five in his stepfather’s house along with his brother Tiberius. Augustus and Livia never had children of their own, but the boys didn’t lack company; Augustus ran a veritable boarding school of children belonging to his family, friends, and enemies, including barbarian princes. Among the motley brood was Antonia Minor, a daughter of Marc Antony from his marriage to Augustus’ sister Octavia. After her father abandoned them, she and her siblings were raised by their mother as part of Augustus’ family.

the Juno Ludovisi,
modeled after Antonia

Antonia was only two years younger than Drusus, so they most likely grew up together as playmates. It’s romantic to imagine them falling in love at a young age, engaging in adolescent flirtation among the colonnades, but there’s no direct evidence for this. What we do know is that Augustus had great things planned for Drusus, his favorite stepson; and one of them was a match with Antonia, his favorite niece, a marriage to which both parties readily agreed.

They married in 16BC when he was 22 and she was 20, and for the next seven years they were one of the foremost power couples in Rome. He was a famous general, handsome and dashing, destined for greatness and possibly the throne; she was beautiful and vivacious, clever and independent, exercising a level of freedom unusual for women of the time. Augustus had no qualms about rearranging family marriages as often as the furniture, but he never meddled with Drusus and Antonia’s union. They had three children who lived to maturity, and possibly two others who did not. From all accounts they were deeply in love; there is no evidence that either of them ever had affairs or took lovers, which was pretty unheard of in elite Roman society.

But their marriage was destined to be brief. In 9 BC, Drusus died after a freak accident at the age of just 29. Although she was only 27, Antonia never remarried, instead focusing her energy into becoming one of the most powerful women Rome had ever known. As a matriarch of the Julio-Claudian dynasty she advised her children and grandchildren as they rose and fell from power, and she could be brutal when they did not live up to her expectations. She lived to the age of 73, when in one last act of authority she committed suicide as a protest against the antics of her grandson Caligula.

Antonia’s image as a cold and callous woman who rejected her son Claudius and executed her own daughter is not entirely false, though it’s probably colored by historical misogyny; but I can’t help wondering how different her life might have been if she hadn’t lost Drusus at such a young age. No matter what she became later in life, for a brief time Antonia and Drusus shared one of the great love stories of the Augustan era.

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Heather Domin writes mixed-genre fiction including historical adventure, unconventional romance, and supernatural suspense. She is preparing to publish Valerian's Legion: The Heirs of Fortune later this summer, in which Drusus Germanicus plays a major role.