by Allan Massie
Then my tribunicia potestas lapsed, was not renewed. My legal authority evaporated. My person was no longer sacrosanct. I had become a mere nobleman, of fading distinction. At first I was not alarmed; it was, after all, what I had wanted.
Yet very soon I began to feel like a bird trapped in a room. It is free to fly, but yet confined. It flings itself against the windows, seeing an escape it cannot attain.
Gaius had been appointed to a command in the East, where new troubles were brewing on the Parthian frontier, since the death of King Tigranes of Armenia had encouraged the Parthians to meddle again in that turbulent country. It was a task likely to prove beyond a raw youth, and I wrote to my stepson offering him the benefit of my advice and reminding him of my experience in Armenian-Parthian affairs. He did not grant me the courtesy of a reply. Fortunately, young Sejanus was attached to his staff and ready to keep an eye on my interests. He reported that I was habitually referred to as "the exile", and that my old enemy Marcus Lollius, whom Augustus had entrusted with the responsibility of supervising the Prince of the Youth Movement, lost no opportunity to denigrate me, and drip poison in an ear all too ready to receive it. Sejanus recommended that I pay my stepson (who was in reality my former stepson, since my divorce from his mother) a visit.
I attended him on Samos. It was strange to be in a camp again, stranger still that it should have the air of a court. He received me with marked coldness; as we embraced, Lollius smirked in the background. It disgusted me to see that greedy rapacious face again; besides, he was fatter than ever, and his low-swinging belly gave him a curiously aquatic air — you looked for the webbed feet. He ensured that throughout my visit Gaius and I were never alone together. Meanwhile I kept my eyes open. There was much to disapprove of. Discipline was lax and it was evident that Gaius was one of those commanders who sought to win popularity by condoning misdemeanours rather than to earn it by virtue and efficiency. Lollius, of course, had always been of that type.
In conversation, Lollius was insolent and, shamefully, was encouraged in his insolence by Gaius, who sniggered as his appointed mentor rejected with flat negatives my analysis of the Parthian habit of mind. I declined to enter into argument. It would have been beneath my dignity. Naturally my self-restraint was misinterpreted by Gaius and the young dandies with whom he had surrounded himself. They assumed that I was cowed and timorous — as if a Claudian could be fazed or outfaced by such as Marcus Lollius. However, in these degenerate days, when mere vanity has so often supplanted a proper pride, it is no wonder that virtue and dignity are not recognised, and so become subjects for ill-conditioned levity.
Yet my visit was not without value. It confirmed me, for one thing, in my respect for young Sejanus by granting me opportunities, however brief and fleeting, to further my acquaintance with him in a number of agreeable ways. 1 admired his tact, the manner in which he neither presumed on my favour nor advertised it. I admired also his intellect, which was powerful, his quick wit and ready understanding.
He made it easy for me too to have confidential discussions with other friends who were attached to Gaius' staff: C. Velleius Paterculus and P. Sulpicius Quirinius. These were men subtle enough to conceal their distrust for Lollius beneath an appearance of affability. They reported that his enmity towards me was fixed: "It blows hard and cold as the north wind. He loses no chance to enflame the Princeps' mind against you."
"A superfluous task," I observed.
"However," Velleius assured me, "Lollius may not be as secure as he thinks. He has been engaged in secret correspondence with the King of Parthia, and I have reason to think that he has taken bribes from him, to subvert Roman policy to Parthian designs. Perhaps the mere suggestion that he has done so would be enough to destroy him."
"No," Sejanus said. "Give him rope. Nothing is to be gained by making an allegation which we cannot substantiate. I have no experience of these matters of course, being only a youth, but it seems to me that in cases of treason it is often better to delay than to strike. In this way you allow the suspect to compromise himself more thoroughly, and are able in time to destroy him utterly."
I nodded approval.
Meanwhile, it was necessary to take precautions on my own behalf. When I returned to Rhodes, I no longer exercised on the parade ground as had been my habit and even took to wearing a Greek cloak and slippers instead of the toga. I wished to emphasise that I had withdrawn altogether from public life and could not be thought a danger to anyone. Despite this, a letter from Sejanus informed me that Lollius had accused me of tampering with the loyalty of Gaius' officers: Sejanus himself had been interrogated, concerning the nature of our conversations. "I gave nothing away," he wrote. This accusation was alarming, all the more so because Sejanus took it seriously enough to have his letter conveyed to me concealed in a box of red mullet which he had a boy from a fishing-boat deliver as a gift. I replied to him in similarly circumspect manner and sent a formal letter to Gaius, explaining that Lollius' charge had been reported to me and that I was accordingly requesting that a close watch be kept on my words, actions and correspondence. This was itself a superfluous demand, for the thing was already being done.
The next letter from Sejanus (arriving this time in a box of figs) was still more disturbing. He reported that a young nobleman at Gaius' table had offered to sail to Rhodes and " 'bring back the exile's head'". The request was refused, but caused much hilarity and the young man was not reproved. Instead Marcus Lollius had a jar of new wine brought to him. "Take care, father and benefactor. Trust in your friends, the least of whom now kisses your hands."
I swallowed the toad of pride, wrote to Augustus, explaining that the causes of my self-inflicted exile having withered, I was ready to resume any duties which he would care to impose upon me, and meanwhile requested permission to return to Rome.
He did not reply to my letter. Instead, he wrote to Gaius asking his opinion. Naturally, with Lollius at his ear, Gaius, who had, poor boy, no mind of his own, declared that I could stay where I was. "He can do no harm there, and no good anywhere else," he wrote. (I have since seen the letter, and recognise the tone and sentiments as being dictated by Lollius.)
I wrote to Livia. She was unable to help. Even she dared not write frankly, knowing that all my correspondence was copied and examined by my enemies. I felt the chill of evening descend around me; it seemed as though my life was to be summed up in the cheat of my marriage and my fractured career. At night I felt myself assailed by temptations to which I did not dare to yield, scarcely even in imagination.
My friends, however, acted on my behalf, without my knowledge. Perhaps on account of my long absence from affairs, I had grown excessively cautious; at any rate I would not have ventured, as they did, to launch an attack against the all-powerful favourite Lollius. The accusations took him by surprise, all the more because they were well founded. He could offer no answer. Gaius withdrew his favour quickly because he was afraid that he might in some way be implicated in Lollius' disgrace. His fear revealed a poor understanding of Augustus, who would have been ready to forgive his beloved grandson anything — as he had in the past forgiven Marcellus. Anyway, Gaius, alarmed, his colour high and his voice rising out of control, upbraided Lollius at a meeting of his general staff, demanded his resignation and threatened him with prosecution. Lollius was unnerved; he did not pause to reflect that his own relations with Augustus had always been good, that he had indeed been an especial favourite of the Princeps. Perhaps, on the other hand, he feared that Augustus would be merciless on account of the favour he had shown the general, that he would interpret Lollius' treason against Rome as an act of personal betrayal also; which indeed it was, especially because it was impossible for Lollius to advance a defence of having acted in the public interest. An examination of his personal accounts showed clearly in whose interest he had acted. His career in ruins, his reputation destroyed by his own greed and folly, the wretched man cut his throat.
The extent of his malign influence
was soon apparent. Within a month of his death I was authorised to return to Rome, albeit in the capacity only of a private citizen forbidden to participate in public life.
Livia came to Ostia to greet me. She wept as she embraced me, and I felt the pathos of a mother's love.
"I have missed you," she said, and I wished that I could reply in the same words. But I felt little for her, only a remote and ineffectual tenderness. She had, ever since I grew up, demanded more from me than I was capable of granting her. Now she apologised for the absence of Augustus, offering excuses which I did not believe.
"I didn't expect him to be here to greet me," I said. "This is not a triumphant return after all."
"No," she said, "and whose fault is that, I would like to know? It was not by my wish or my advice that you have wasted so many years of your life. If you have been an exile, it was of your own choice. Nevertheless, my son, it is a return from which triumph may spring."
"I doubt it, mother…"
The sun was sinking behind the Alban hills as we mounted the steps of the Capitol to allow me to give thanks to Jupiter for my safe return. The marble shone pink, and Livia cried out that she seemed to see a golden halo over my head. But this was nonsense, and I felt a weariness of spirit as I gazed down on the teeming throng below. I felt more solitary than I had ever been on my island retreat. Within a few days, I retired to a house on the Esquiline Hill, built in gardens which had once belonged to Maecenas. I attended to my duties as head of the Claudian gens. I examined my son Drusus, and was pleased to discover that his education was proceeding in a satisfactory fashion. Otherwise I saw only old friends, among them Gnaeus Calpurnius Piso and his brother Lucius, and Cossus Cornelius Lentulus. All three had achieved much; none found satisfaction. All agreed with me about public affairs, and performed their duties without indulging in any illusions concerning either their nature or purpose. Many nights we allowed Bacchus to console us for the death of liberty in Rome, and sought in wine what we could not find in either public or private affairs: a species of joy and some reason for prolonging life, a guard against disappointment and a means of ephemeral freedom from disillusion…
The first volume of Tiberius' autobiography breaks off abruptly at this point, and it is impossible to determine whether he abandoned it or whether the pages that cover events up to the death of Augustus in 14 ad have been lost. The former is perhaps more probable since the tone of the last chapters is elegiac. It is probable that he wrote these memoirs partly in Rhodes and partly after his return to Rome while he was living in retirement on the Esquiline. At any rate a brief resume of events in the following years may be serviceable, in the regrettable absence of Tiberius' own account.
Tiberius returned to Rome in 2 ad. A few weeks later the younger of the princes, Lucius, died at Marseilles on his way to Spain. Tiberius composed an elegy (also lost) for his erstwhile stepson, but Lucius' death made no difference to his political position. However, eighteen months later Gaius also died, as a result of a fever following a wound. This changed everything, destroying all Augustus' plans for the future. Only one of Julia's sons by her marriage to Agrippa survived. This was Agrippa Postumus, so called because he had been born after his father's death. He was unfortunately a brutish imbecile. As he grew up it became apparent that he was unlikely to be fit for office, though this was not yet certain in 4 ad.
The death of Gaius forced Augustus to turn to Tiberius, who had become the necessary man. Augustus adopted him, grudgingly, telling the Senate that he did so for reasons of state, because "cruel fate" had deprived him of his "beloved grandsons". He adopted Agrippa Postumus at the same time, but three years later, on account of his violent behaviour, the wretched young man was confined to an island. Tiberius was himself ordered to adopt his own nephew Germanicus, the son of Drusus and Augustus' niece Antonia. Germanicus was married to Agrippina, a daughter of Julia and Agrippa, and therefore Augustus' grand-daughter. In this way Augustus hoped that the succession would revert to his own blood relatives. The sufferer in this instance was of course Tiberius' own son Drusus.
Tiberius spent most of the next decade away from Rome, campaigning on the Danube frontier and in Germany. He achieved great success. The period, however, saw one of the greatest disasters in the history of Rome when P. Quintilius Varus lost three legions in the German forests. Again Tiberius had to restore the situation, retrieve the disaster. His achievement was formidable. Nevertheless the defeat of Varus persuaded Augustus that Germany could never be conquered and that the Roman Empire should not be extended further. Tiberius concurred in this decision.
In 13 ad Tiberius was formally associated with Augustus in the government of the empire, sharing his imperium as Agrippa had done long ago. The following year Augustus died at the age of seventy-six.
Book Two
Chapter One
Old Age is a shipwreck. I saw that in Augustus and indeed heard the phrase on his lips, though, if I remember, he did not apply it to himself. Now I recognise its truth for me. I am breaking on the sharp rocks, buffeted by cruel winds. Peace of mind and ease of body both desert me. The Greek poet Calli machus complained of being assailed by the Telchines — a cannibal tribe ready to tear your liver out. I had thought to erect a barricade by study, collecting the wisdom of ages as found in books. It offers no defence. Philosophy, I conclude, offers comfort only to minds that are not disturbed, which have, therefore, no need of it. Philosophy cannot quiet the maledictory and maleficent demons who torment me. I am, men say, the emperor of the world. Some fools in Asia are even ready to worship me as a god. When I was told this, I remarked to myself that the only resemblance I could see between the gods and myself lay in our indifference to humanity, and contempt for men.
Augustus died in his seventy-seventh year. I had grown fonder of him in his old age, as he became aware of the depth of his failure. There were moments, I even thought, when he realised how he had corrupted Rome, breeding a generation of slaves, therefore of liars, since no slave can be trusted to tell the truth, but must always say what he believes his master wishes to hear. He fell ill when I was about to return to the army. Naturally I changed my plans and hastened back. He was still conscious and lucid. He entrusted Rome, and Livia, to my care. I knew that it was not what he would have wished to do, but I knew also that he had come to value me in his last years. In a letter he once wrote "If you were to fall ill, the news would kill your mother and me, and the whole country would be in danger." The first part of the apodosis was characteristically hyperbolic, but he knew the second part to be true, and I welcomed his recognition of my worth.
We buried his ashes in the mausoleum he had constructed for the family. I pronounced the funeral eulogy, avoiding the direct lie, not eschewing polite fictions. A couple of days later, the former praetor Numerius Atticus obligingly informed the Senate that during the cremation ceremony he had seen my stepfather's spirit soaring up to Heaven through the flames. Nobody chose to express doubt.
Augustus was declared to be a god.
What would they have said if they had known that almost his last act had been to despatch orders that his only surviving grandson Agrippa Postumus should… cease to survive?
Nothing, I suppose. They would not have dared.
I owed Augustus some gratitude for taking that decision on himself. Unfortunately the timing was such that the boy was not killed till a few days after his grandfather's death, and then there were naturally many ready to believe that I had ordered his execution. I would in fact have had no authority to do so.
The question of authority had to be settled immediately. Augustus claimed in his political testament, the res gestae, which I published at his request, that after the expiry of the peculiar powers granted him by the law which established the Triumvirate with Mark Antony and Manius Aemilius Lepidus, he had possessed "no more power than the others who were my colleagues in each magistracy, though I excelled all in authority".
This was disingenuous. He had ensured that a superior
overriding imperium was granted to him, which, in effect, meant that his legal power was unquestioned in all affairs, even within those provinces of the empire which are nominally within the charge of the Senate. He had devised a constitution which obscured his power, but did not prevent him from exercising it wherever he chose. It was his wish that I should inherit his position.
I had no doubt of that. He had revealed it in numerous conversations in his last years. Livia was certain that was his intention. When she returned from watching over her husband's ashes, she embraced me, and said: "At last, my son, you have everything which I have striven for years to obtain for you."
"Mother," I said, "if I have anything, it is as a result of my own labours, and anyway I am not certain what I wish to have."
"What you wish…" she repeated my words, and shook her head. "Don't you understand, my dear, that your wishes have never entered into the matter? You have what is yours, what the gods have awarded you, what I have for forty years worked to bring about."