Quintus Veranius, consul AD 49

Over the years (if not decades), I have occasionally seen reference made to A.E. Gordon’s 1952 book, Quintus Veranius Consul AD 49. A Study Based upon His Recently Identified Sepulchral Inscription (issued as fascicule no. 5 of University of California Publications in Classical Archaeology Vol. 2); this is usually (perhaps naturally) whenever the career of Quintus Veranius is mentioned, but also whenever triumphal decorations are discussed (most recently, I think, in Mary Beard’s The Roman Triumph in 2007), since Gordon appended a lengthy catalogue of “Triumphal Honors and Statues, and Other Official Honorary Statues Set Up in Rome, during the Empire”, which runs to 98 entries. It was chiefly this last item that I (periodically, and purely out of curiosity) wanted to see. My curiosity has now been satisfied, thanks to the bibliotechnical skills of my friend Dr Alan Leslie, and I have seen Gordon’s book with my own eyes.

The inscription

As the subtitle indicates, Professor Gordon’s book is based on his discovery of a hitherto unpublished inscription (AE 1953, 251 = CIL VI, 41075, pictured here), mounted on an external wall of the Terme di Diocleziano in Rome.

Only a portion (roughly 1m high by 2m wide) survives from the lower right of a larger commemorative slab, listing part of the career of a successful senator, whose name was lost in the missing portion. (Gordon assumed that we have roughly a quarter of the original slab.)

The lettering is very clear and consistent, with no ligatures (where two or more letters are combined into one symbol) and little or no variation in letter size, so that Professor Gordon felt able to reconstruct not only the missing left-hand ends of the thirteen extant lines, but also the preceding (entirely missing) text, with a fair degree of confidence. Whether or not his attempt was successful, we shall presently see.

A promising career

First, it should be pointed out that Professor Gordon astutely discerned the senator in question from various clues: first, the emperor Claudius is twice mentioned (lines 2 and 4), so we are in the mid-first century AD; second, the province of Britannia is mentioned (line 12); and third, the second deceased person (line 13) was evidently the son or daughter of the senator, whose name ends in -ranius.

The only senator who could fit the bill was Quintus Veranius, known from the pages of Tacitus’ Agricola and Annals as the governor of Britain in AD 57 who intra annum extinctus est (“died within a year”). His last will and testament, besides flattering the emperor Nero, claimed that subiecturum ei provinciam fuisse, si biennio proximo vixisset (“he would have annexed the province for him, if he had lived for the next two years”).

Quintus Veranius was previously known as a governor of Lycia, on the south-west coast of present-day Turkey. (Uniquely, I think, his likeness appears on the coins of Lycia, such as the one pictured here, RPC 1, 2889.) A fragmentary inscription from Cyaneae (near the village of Yavu) records his early career, and shows that he began in the auspicious role of triumvir monetalis (one of the three young men who were annually in charge of the mint at Rome), which he followed with a tribunate in the Fourth Scythica Legion, before being selected as quaestor Augusti (the emperor’s own quaestor), in which role he evidently served both Tiberius and Caligula, which lands us firmly in AD 37. As quaestors were normally aged 24, Veranius must have been born around AD 13. The historian Josephus records that Veranius was tribunus plebis (“tribune of the plebs”) in January AD 41, when he and others begged Claudius to become emperor after the murder of Caligula. As we know, the year AD 43 opened with campaigning in Britain (under Aulus Plautius) and in Lycia (under Veranius), and this is where the surviving part of our inscription begins.

Governing Lycia

Line 1 revealed the surprising fact (surprising, at least, in 1952) that Veranius governed Lycia (and presumably neighbouring Pamphylia, which Claudius is known to have joined onto Lycia) for five years, which must be AD 43-47 inclusive. There follow (lines 2-5) details of the campaigning, during which Veranius [castellum ... Tr]acheotarum expugnatum delevit (“stormed and destroyed a fort of the Tracheotae”). This can only be a reference to Cilicia Tracheia, the neighbouring region to the east, which was later incorporated into Lycia-Pamphylia, so Professor Gordon preferred to fill the void — having counted the letters carefully — with [atque castellum Cilicum Tr]acheotarum, though it goes without saying that it need not have been a castellum at all, since towns can equally well be stormed and destroyed.

Lines 6 and 7 then divulge that it was propter quae (“on account of which”, namely the five years’ successful campaigning) that consul designatus (“he was designated as consul”), auctore [...] (“through the influence of ...”) — a void that can only be filled by the emperor Claudius’ name, for who else could influence the selection of the consuls? Professor Gordon calculated that there was space for auctore |[Ti(berio) Claudio Caesare Augusto Germanico] (“through the influence of the emperor Tiberius Claudius Caesar Germanicus”) in the void.

The consulship was normally reserved for men aged around 40, but in AD 49, Veranius would have been only 36. However, line 8 reveals that he was in numerum patriciorum adlectus (“brought into the body of the patricians”), Rome’s aristocracy, who could usually expect the consulship in their early to mid-30s, rather earlier than prescribed. He was also augur creatus (“made an augur”), a member of one of the four major colleges of priests, which was a signal honour and, along with the consulship, the pinnacle of many men’s careers. So far, so good.

Controversial restorations

Lines 9-10 then include a reference to the post of [curator ...] aedium sacrarum et operum locorumque |[publicorum] (“supervisor of temples, buildings, and public works”). Professor Gordon included a lengthy 26-page appendix cataloguing all holders of this office known to him. However, several reviewers were uncomfortable with his restoration of the wording here, which resulted in rather stilted Latin. In essence, his version had the curatorship combined with the voting of a statue by the senate and people of Rome, a rather unlikely scenario.

Joyce Reynolds (Class. Rev. 4, 1954) pointed out that Professor Gordon’s suggested [curator Ti. Claudii Caesaris Aug. Germ]anici ought to mean that the man was supervising the emperor Claudius! She suggested instead that the word curator should be repositioned in the void after aedium sacrarum et operum locorumque |[publicorum], a word order that is paralleled on another inscription (CIL VI, 814), and that the invented reference to a statue should be deleted. (Roger Tomlin has unwisely retained the statue in his 2018 book Britannia Romana.) James Oliver (Am. J. Phil. 75, 1954) also balked at Professor Gordon’s “curator of the emperor”, pointing out that all that was needed was a statement to the effect that the emperor recommended Veranius as curator, and the popular assembly elected him: something along the lines of iudicio Claudii Augusti ... curam ei dedit populus Romanus (“by decision of the emperor Claudius ... the Roman people gave him the curatorship”).

Professor Gordon subsequently (thirty years later, in his Illustrated Introduction to Latin Epigraphy of 1983!) amended his restoration to read more or less what Oliver had suggested: [iussu Ti. Claudii Caesaris Aug. Germ]anici aedium sacrarum et operum locorumque |[publicorum curam ei dedit equester o]rdo et populus Romanus consentiente senatu (“by order of the emperor Tiberius Claudius Caesar Germanicus, the equestrian order and the Roman people, with the consent of the Senate, gave him charge of temples, buildings, and public works”).

Lines 10-11 also stirred up discomfort. This section begins with ludis (“at the games”), which Professor Gordon assumed to be Nero’s ludi maximi (“Great Games”), which are undated but which (Cassius Dio says) were given in honour of his mother Agrippina, so some time between AD 54 (when Nero became emperor) and 56 (when Agrippina fell out of favour). However, Keith Bradley suggested that they may have been the games held by Claudius in AD 51 to celebrate Nero’s coming of age. Meanwhile, A.R. Birley, in his 2005 book The Government of Roman Britain, suggested ludis [in campo Martio praesidens] (“while presiding at the games on the Campus Martius”). At any rate, other “games” are possible and Professor Gordon’s restoration ludis |[maximis praesidens] (“while presiding at the Great Games”) is perhaps unsafe.

Governor of Britain

The next secure text is the phrase ab Augusto principe, cuius liberalitatis erat minister (“by the August emperor, of whose generosity he was the dispenser”), which seems to indicate that Veranius had been appointed to some other post by the (unspecified) emperor, possibly while dispensing largesse (the emperor’s liberalitas) at the previously mentioned games. With only the verb [p]etierit (“he sought” something) surviving at the start of line 11, Professor Gordon read on to line 12, with its mention of provinciae Britanniae, in qua decessit (“of the province of Britannia, where he died”). He decided that, firstly, a verb was needed (he supplied factus est, “he was made”), and secondly, another post was needed (he supplied legatus Neronis Caesaris Germanici, “legate of Nero Caesar Germanicus”, the names by which the emperor Nero is often known), and thirdly, something needed to be “sought”. Putting it all together, he came up with the unlikely [factus est cum non p]etierit ab Augusto principe cuius liberalitatis erat minister [legatus Neronis Augusti German]ici provinciae Britanniae (“he was made the emperor Nero’s governor of Britain, though he did not seek it”).

Again, Oliver had an intriguing idea, a variation of which Professor Gordon again adopted in his 1983 book. Namely, that Veranius had distributed the largesse because the emperor Nero was himself taking part in the games. ludis [... praefectus est, ut ipse praemium p]etierit, ab Augusto principe, cuius liberalitatis erat minister (“he was placed in charge of games by the emperor, of whose generosity he was the dispenser, so that the emperor himself could seek a prize”). This neatly side-stepped Professor Gordon’s curious notion that Veranius “had not sought” the governorship of Britain (although it persists, perhaps by oversight, in Birley’s Roman Government of Britain). Instead, Oliver suggested restoring something along the lines of [praepositus est primo cantu bell]ici provinciae Britanniae (“he was placed in charge of the province of Britannia, at the first blast of war”), a curious phrase that has little to recommend it. Professor Gordon settled for [praepositus est tempore motus bell]ici provinciae Britanniae (“he was placed in charge of the province of Britannia at the time of an uprising”) in his 1983 version.

Son or daughter?

Professor Gordon restored the final line of the inscription as follows: [Verania f(ilia) Q(uinti) Ve]rani vixit annis VI et mensibus X (“Verania, daughter of Quintus Veranius, lived 6 years and 10 months”). Veranius was already known to have had a daughter named Gemina (“Twin”), who famously married L. Calpurnius Piso Frugi Licinianus, the chosen heir of the emperor Galba, who was murdered with him on 15 January AD 69. Most commentators were satisfied with Professor Gordon’s conjecture of a second daughter, named Verania.

However, in 1981, A.R. Birley (following a suggestion of Werner Eck’s) postulated a six-year-old son instead, arguing that the explicit statement of age was more in keeping with a male child, in order to explain why he had held no public office; but having calculated that there wasn’t enough space for [Q(uintus) Veranius f(ilius) Q(uinti) Ve]rani, he reverted to the daughter Verania in his 2005 book. By chance, also in 1981, a second daughter of Veranius’ came to light, Octavilla by name. It has consequently been suggested that the final line should read [Octavilla f(ilia) Q(uinti) Ve]rani. However, this doesn’t seem to require any less space than a male name, and I do wonder if there might not have been a younger son, as well.

Success or not?

In the final analysis, it seems that Professor Gordon’s painstaking technique of carefully measuring the likely void at the start of each line and then proposing a suitable sequence of letters to fit hasn’t been overly successful. It would certainly have worked in a strictly formulaic inscription, but for this one, it became an exercise in free composition. Nevertheless, we owe him a massive debt for recognizing the slab in the first place and drawing it to public notice.

As a postscript, it is worth mentioning that the inscription was allegedly discovered near Settecamini, north-east of Rome on the Tivoli road. Yet Quintus Veranius’ own mausoleum stood (at least until 1904, when Thomas Ashby saw it) on the Via Appia. Pietro Santi Bartoli’s eighteenth-century engraving (pictured here, from Gli Antichi Sepolcri ovvero Mausolei Romani of 1704) shows that no inscription survived in situ. Professor Gordon thought that the inscription had come from a villa on the Via Tiburtina, belonging to Veranius’ family, but it was perhaps a Renaissance villa, whose owner had acquired the inscription from Veranius’ tomb. Probably we shall never know.