by Allan Massie
So I shall now give you what will be of certain use in your great work, and something which you could not have without my assistance. For you can learn of actions from records, and you can dissect character from what you read, from letters and speeches which were recorded, as well as from public documents. But for that shifting and evanescent thing we call mood or atmosphere, you require the testimony of one who lived at the time and saw and felt all. Furthermore, I can supply you also with the gossip and wild stories that did the rounds; and these will lend animation to your History. Some of them were, as you may imagine, choicely absurd.
For instance, prodigies were daily reported. It was said that in the porch of the Capitol, the reins of the chariot on which the Goddess of Victory rides eternally to battle, dropped from her hands, a gloomy omen; that the statue of the Divine Julius, on the Tiber island, turned from the west to face to the east, and this - it was added with many shakes of the head - on a day when there was no breath of wind, as though it would have required a gale to shift the statue east-facing. Someone else had seen a form bigger than any man burst forth from the Temple of Juno bearing a mighty sword. Others reported that an ox in Etruria had spoken, in hexameters moreover, and that a goat had given birth to a calf (predominantly white, with black patches). In short rumour ran on winged feet, and no story was too absurd to find creditors. Domitian, who had been given a post of some sort in the palace, was torn, when we conversed, between credulity and disdain. His intellect told him such tales were nonsense; his fears denied the reasoning of his mind.
A sudden thaw melted snow in the mountains and, being succeeded by three days of incessant rain which led fools to assert that the heavens wept for Rome, caused the Tiber to break its banks and flood. Not only the low-lying and flat districts of the city were under the turbulent waters, even parts long thought safe from flooding found the water lapping at their doors. I required a boat to visit my mother and bring her supplies, which however were scarce. Scores of people were drowned, many more were maroooned in shops, their workplaces or their homes. The foundations of countless slum dwellings were sapped by the force of the waters and gave way when the river returned to its usual channel. It was impossible for the troops to parade in the Campus Martius; they would have had to swim.
The capital was astir, and the ravages of the flood only mirrored the disorder in men's minds. It was said that Vitellius had infiltrated soldiers into the city, in civilian disguise, who were ready, at a given signal, to assassinate the partisans of Otho. So suspicion lurked behind every sentence spoken, and men dared not look each other in the eye. The state of public affairs was even worse. Nobody knew what the future held and opinions shifted with every rumour relayed. When the Senate was in session, many Senators absented themselves on grounds of ill-health. Those who did attend flattered the Emperor who, accustomed from his days as Nero's favourite to such language, treated it with the contempt it merited. But the next minute the flatterers, realising that their words might be held against them, should Otho lose the war that could be only a few weeks distant, tried to give them a double meaning; and so, in most cases, rendered them senseless. When they were called upon to brand Vitellius a traitor and public enemy, the more cautious did so in such general and indeed hackneyed language that none could think them sincere, for their words appeared as a parody of the genuine accusations of treason of which our history already afforded so many shameful examples. Others employed a more cunning ruse. They arranged that, when they rose to speak, their friends and cousins should raise such a hubbub of noise as to make them quite inaudible. So they could subsequently claim that they had done their duty, whoever enquired of them; and they could not be gainsaid.
Otho still hesitated. He received the report of my embassy to Vespasian and Mucianus with equanimity rather then pleasure. He commended my speed and my honesty, then, as if thinking aloud, said, 'All war is ruinous; civil war most ruinous of all.' He recollected my presence, smiled, and said, 'You may find these strange thoughts of an Emperor committed to the defence of his cause, who has just received, thanks to you, the welcome news of the goodwill that the commanders of the Eastern armies feel for me. Yet I would still wish to avoid war, and I wonder whether this assurance can be employed to that purpose. For surely, if Vitellius learns that I have joined Vespasian and Mucianus with me in defence of the Republic - as for convenience we may still call it - then perhaps he will desist and be ready to negotiate terms. Vitellius is no man of war. He's a lazy fellow, timid too, and I can't believe he has stomach for the fight.'
'That's as may be, sir,' I replied, 'but you yourself, when you gave me my commission, said that there were those behind Vitellius - Valens and Caecina you named - who were determined on war. You suggested Vitellius was their puppet, and I have never heard that the feelings or fears of a puppet count for anything.'
'Alas,' he said, 'you do well to remind me of my own words. Yet your readiness to do so makes me sad - so young and already so hard. I hope to avoid war because any war will be my responsibility, a weight on my soul and a blot on my reputation. Consider . . .' he paused and, without summoning a slave, poured wine for us both. 'I should never,' he said, 'have consented to assume this burden of Empire. And yet what else could I have done? You may say that I might have remained Governor of Lusitania, loyal to Galba. Would you say that?'
'It is none of my business, sir.'
'There were powerful reasons against such a course. My debts for a start. You're a young man, you can't know the demoralising weight of debt. When I was your age, I borrowed without thought of the morrow, or repayment. I had almost as many bankers as mistresses, and they were equally lavish with their favours, I assure you. They seemed to think it an honour to lend me money - as Nero's friend, you know. Then, when Nero turned against me, or I against him -it's a long and complicated story, for we wronged each other, I see that now - and I fell from favour but was bought off as it were with Lusitania, I felt the first chills of bankers' suspicions. So to repay the respectable bankers - just enough to keep them quiet -I resorted to the less reputable moneylenders, whose rates of interest were extortionate. They expected me to repay them by fleecing the poor provincials, my already sufficiently wretched Lusitanians. But I couldn't do so. Couldn't. Do you understand that? Shall I tell you something strange that I have learned? The men who behave well at certain points in their life anyway are not always those who have had a high opinion of themselves and their own virtue.'
He stopped his pacing, lay down on a couch, gazing up at the ceiling where a disagreeably muscle-bound Apollo tangled with an auburn-haired Daphne even as she was being transformed into a bay tree. The vulgar exuberance of the painting suggests to me now, in memory, that it was a Corinthian work. The artists of that city have always had a weakness for the florid and an impure taste. I confess I've always rather liked such work.
'So,' the Emperor continued, talking to keep me with him and save himself from solitude, 'my debts grew, vaster than empires and a good deal quicker, like monstrous vegetables, marrows or pumpkins. When I followed Galba to Rome - at his request, after I had declared my support for him - I was positively besieged by clouds of mosquitos whom I identified without difficulty as creditors. What was I to do? They threatened to strip me of all I possessed, make me bankrupt, disgraced and debarred from public life. Which I was weary of, I assure you. I could have borne exclusion and disgrace, but for one thing: my pride would not let me display to the world the miserable condition to which my extravagance had reduced me . . .
'Are you still listening? It's good of you to listen. What am I saying? I've forgotten for a happy moment that I am the Emperor. You can't walk out on me, or go to sleep, as you would if I was a private citizen. Still, you're a good boy to listen. Come and sit beside me.'
He ruffled my hair, stroked my cheek, and sighed.
'Poppaea was the only person I ever truly loved, except that, when I was with her, I could also love myself. No more; Otho's despicable, a sad piece of
work. Relax, boy, I have no designs on you. I had designs on Galba. He half-promised to make me his heir and his partner in the Empire. That was one night on the journey to Rome. He was in his cups, but not heavily drunk, though many nights the old general was carried sodden to bed. For my part, I have never found pleasure in heavy drinking. It destroys all other pleasures and abilities. Galba - that model of old-fashioned Republican virtue - propositioned me. Well, Julius Caesar may have consented to be bedded by the King of Bithynia, but Galba ... He had a taste, you know, for mature men, like that brute Icelus, who shared his bed and did who knows what to the old man. That sort of thing has never attracted me. I can see the point of a boy and can understand men who run after boys, though it's never been my taste since I was a boy myself. But to take your sexual pleasure from some hairy brute - no - it disgusts me. Galba even in his cups understood the repulsion that I felt. He called for Icelus and dismissed me, and with my refusal my chances of being adopted as his heir went out of the window - where, as you might say, my creditors were lurking and clamouring. So there it was. I had a choice: dishonour and poverty, death at my own hand, or a bid for Empire. When some officers of the Guard approached me and told me how the Guard detested Galba on account of his stinginess, what could I say? It's one thing to turn down an Emperor, quite another to turn down the Empire itself. And so I said yes. Should I have done so? What else could I have done?'
Had I known then as much of men and affairs as I do now, I would have realised that Otho's future as Emperor was likely to be brief. His self-pity corrupted any determination and ability he might possess. Even his winning of Empire had had no more moral significance than a gambler's lucky throw. Yet because I was young and inexperienced and of a generous nature, I warmed towards him. I was flattered, too, that he had unburdened himself to me, and I did not consider that a man who would so abandon the reticence that dignity demands - and before one who was little more than a boy, a mere youth, however admirable my breeding, bearing and intelligence might be - was unlikely to be more restrained in other company. In short, I should have realised that Otho, expressing his regrets and misgivings, even to casual acquaintances (for I was in reality no more than that) was certainly dismaying his supporters and proving himself incapable of giving that impression of serenity and steadfastness which is necessary if soldiers are to be ready to die for a cause.
In passing, Tacitus, let me urge you to consider the significance of the numerous desertions that occurred in this turbulent year. Was it not the case that the legions had only one interest in these wars: to finish on the winning side? Few held their generals in affection or respect; few were wedded to them as Caesar's, or Mark Antony's troops to them. So, for instance, Otho would embark on his campaign at the head of an army some of whose legions had only a few weeks earlier hailed Galba as Emperor, and had indeed marched from Spain to install him on the throne. Now they were to fight for Otho, who was responsible for the murder of Galba. How hard would they fight? What loyalty was to be expected from men in their position?
XXIII
Domitian was furious. As usual - this will not surprise you, Tacitus -his anger was inspired by resentment and self-pity. He had had a letter from his father informing him that he had written to Otho requesting that Domitian should not be included among the members of his staff, but be permitted to remain in Rome 'to continue his studies'. Otho had 'graciously' consented. He had in any case developed a dislike for Domitian, whose restless look and quickness to take offence were, as he told me, 'intolerable'.
'It's not fair,' was Domitian's refrain. 'I have no studies worth the name and, even if I had, my father has never given a hang for them. You're going to the war, with a position on Otho's staff. It's not fair.'
'Well,' I said, in what I hoped was a conciliatory manner, for in truth I had some sympathy with Domitian's resentment. You forget that I have no father to make such a request. It's true that I have a guardian, my mother's brother, who may still claim some notional authority over me, but then he has never cared a tinker's cuss whether I live or die. So there's no reason for him to start doing so now. But I'm sure you wrong your father. It's natural he should be concerned for your safety. Indeed, he said as much when I was with him recently. He spoke very warmly of you,' I lied.
'It's not fair,' Domitian said again, 'and I know who to blame. It's Titus who has persuaded my father to take this attitude. He's jealous in case I win a renown in battle that would put him in the shade.'
'That's ridiculous,' Domatilla said. As if you could! Everyone knows what a hero he is. His soldiers adore him. Don't they?' she turned to me and flushing, sought confirmation of what she could not have known, but nevertheless believed, for she herself 'adored' her glamorous elder brother, and could never suppose that Domitian might be in any way his equal.
'He is certainly very popular,' I said. 'As I daresay, Domitian, you yourself will be too, when the time comes. In any case, surely you see that it is in your father's interest - whatever reason he may have given Otho - that you remain in the city as his representative.'
'Oh, fine words,' Domitian said, 'awfully fine words. Do you think I'm stupid? Do you think I don't know that my uncle Flavius Sabinus is also to remain in Rome, and that he will be the man to receive confidences and instructions from my father?'
He continued in this vein interminably, till at last Domatilla told him to 'grow up' - a piece of admirable, if impracticable, advice which sent him into a deeper sulk.
At the time I shared her irritation. Subsequently I have wondered whether Vespasian's treatment of Domitian wasn't in truth prompted by Titus' determination that his little brother should be denied any chance to distinguish himself. If this was indeed the case, then Domitian's resentment was justified. It is regrettable that Rome, and my own career, should have suffered on account of resentment becoming his dominant characteristic.
XXIV
Near the beginning of March word came that the first army of the German legions had crossed the Alpine passes, under the command of Caecina. Orders given to the Danube legion based at Poetevio in Styria to intercept them had either gone astray or been ignored. So Otho found himself in a position similar to Pompey's at the opening of the campaign which led to Caesar's dictatorship. There were those who advised him to act like Pompey, abandon Italy to the invader, and carry his legions to the East, where they could join with those commanded by Vespasian and Mucianus, and so return, strengthened, in triumph.
Otho considered this advice and sought other opinions, hoping (I believe) to find that a majority of his advisers favoured this course. It was not that he was a coward, however effeminate and unsoldierly he might be in manner. But he doubted his abilities as a general; he detested the prospect of civil war; his sleep was made wretched by nightmares in which the ghost of Galba appeared to him; and he was temperamentally inclined to favour any course which would postpone the day of decision. In private conversation with me, he repeatedly bewailed his misfortune in being saddled with the load of Empire, and reverted to his favourite theme: that it had been forced on him by circumstance rather than by his own will. Everything in his speech was such as my Stoic upbringing had led me to condemn. And yet I could not do so. It was not merely that I was flattered (as any young man might be) by being singled out, as I supposed, to be the recipient of the Emperor's confidences. It was also that I responded to Otho's charm and vulnerability. Moreover, as I have said, my mother had always had a tenderness for Otho and this naturally inclined me in his favour.
Yet I did not abdicate my judgement to his fears or futile hopes. When he pleaded with me - with looks as well as words - to advise him that this course of withdrawal from Italy was wise and right, I could not, or would not, do so. On the contrary I pointed out that it had been fatal for Pompey, that it would be wrong - I may even have said 'unmanly' - to abandon Rome to the doubtful mercies of the Vitellian troops, all the more so because the Guard, whose duty it was to defend the city as well as the person of the Emperor,
had committed themselves to his cause, and were reputedly loathed by the German legions. Then I added:
'Believe me, sir, I know Vespasian and Titus - the latter well, as you yourself know - and I have met Mucianus. If you abandon Italy and seek to unite your army with theirs, you will find that you have in reality surrendered the Empire to them. At best you will be the third or fourth man in the Empire. The only way in which you can maintain your position and make use of the friendship which Vespasian at least feels for you, and the good will which all three have expressed, is by meeting them in the character of a victorious general who has driven the German legions back beyond the Alps.'
'So young and yet so stern,' he replied. 'I'd like to get drunk, but I can't, however much wine I take. If I could get drunk, then I might sleep. And if I could sleep, my resolution might return.'
Otho's weakness and indecision were pitiful. It is therefore, surely, the more to his credit that he was able to overcome his fears, or at least to give his troops the impression that he felt none. Summoning up whatever resolution he could command, he gave the order to advance and seek out the enemy. As he buckled his armour on, he sighed. Then he wept a little, when he had dismissed the slave who had helped dress him as a man of war, and told me that he wished to keep me by his side throughout the forthcoming campaign.