Tiberius (22 page)

"You shouldn't work yourself into these states," he said. "It's because you live in a world formed by your own imagination, a world where men still seek to practise virtue. But it's not like that. In your heart you know it isn't. It's just your obstinate Claudian pride that insists that other men ought to have standards like yours. You don't understand human nature. It's made up of wolves, jackals and lambs. And the occasional lion such as you."

"What are you yourself, dear boy?"

"When I'm with you, I feel I might be a lion's cub. On my own I recognise myself as a wolf." He soaked the napkin again.

"Is that any better? In the same way you won't admit the truth about the empire, though you know in your heart of hearts what it is. It's impossible that we should be an empire beyond Italy and the Republic at home. The two forms of government don't mix, and the Republic could never administer the empire."

He wiped my brow again.

"There," he sighed, "you're committed to it. You can't escape ever. Now you must sleep. I'll put out the light."

2

S
ejanus comforted me as no other could. He was no longer the happy, if circumspect, boy I had first known on Rhodes, but a man in the prime of life, of matchless vigour and capacity. His judgment was admirable, his industry extraordinary. But it was his buoyancy that I valued most. I am by nature melancholic, given to brooding and depression, forever conscious of dangers and difficulties. His sanguine temperament uplifted me. I had only to see him stride towards me, that frank and confident smile on his face, his whole air one of athletic well-being, to feel the clouds lift. He had, moreover, one other great virtue: he always, it seemed to me, told me the truth. This is rare, for truth is what men like to conceal from those who exercise power.

Of course, people were jealous and tried to turn me against him. My niece Agrippina, for instance, despised him for his comparatively humble birth, and lack of ancestors - as if Sejanus was not at least as well born as her father Marcus Agrippa. She was also forever complaining of his manners, merely because he did not practise polite insincerity. Others denounced him in anonymous letters, and Scaurus drew me aside to inform me that he "knew for a fact" that, in his youth, Sejanus had been the catamite of the debauched moneylender Marcus Gavius Apicius, and that his fortunes were founded on this liaison.

"What's more," he said, "Apicius still makes him an allowance and in return Sejanus procures young guardsmen for him. What do you think of that, Tiberius?"

"You seem to forget," I replied, "that Sejanus is married to Apicius' daughter, Apicata, and is the father of her two children. I think that contradicts your malicious assertions."

Nevertheless my denial did not entirely convince me myself, for I knew Apicius and could imagine how desirable he would have found the youthful Sejanus. Nor did I believe that, as a boy, Sejanus would have resisted the temptation of physical pleasure. The second part of the accusation seemed merely spiteful. However, I arranged that a watch be kept on Apicius' acquaintance.

Concern with such matters was abruptly thrust aside. Word came that the army in Pannonia had mutinied. This was especially painful to me, since the legions stationed there had long been under my own command. Their complaints were manifold, also long-standing, for they were experiencing one of those periodic revulsions from service which may afflict even veteran soldiers. The ringleader was a fellow called Percennius who, having worked as a professional cheerleader in the theatre before becoming a soldier (to escape the just wrath of an offended father, as discovered later), knew how to incite crowds with his insolent tongue. To their subsequent shame, many of the soldiers listened to him, indulging in the vain hope of oversetting the reality of their existence; even those who knew better were either carried away for the moment, or did not dare to argue with their intoxicated comrades. Some of the officers were beaten, others fled in panic; one, a company-commander called Lucilius, noted for his strict discipline, had his throat cut.

Mutiny is as simple as it is serious. Whatever the grievances of mutineers, however justified they may be, they cannot be appeased till order is restored. That is a fundamental condition of military life. I therefore had no hesitation in acting to restore order.

I entrusted the task to my son Drusus. He was, of course, young for the job, but
1
had every confidence in his good sense. Moreover it seemed to me that the despatch of my own son would convince the sensible element in the legions of my benevolence and confidence. I sent two battalions of the Praetorian Guard with him, strengthened beyond their normal numbers by picked drafts and with them, three troops of horse guards and four companies of my most trusted German auxiliaries. Naturally Sejanus, whom I had appointed joint commander of the Guard, with his distinguished father L. Seius Strabo, led these troops and, to enhance his authority, I made him Drusus' chief of staff.

Before they set off, I said to them: "There is nobody I trust more than you, Drusus, my only son, and you Sejanus, for whom I have the most tender fatherly feelings. You are going to the place of honour and danger. I cannot give you precise instructions. You must exercise your judgment according to the circumstances in which you find yourself. But keep two things in mind: first, many of the soldiers' grievances will be legitimate, and ought to be satisfied. Second, you cannot safely satisfy them till they have submitted to their ancient discipline, and order has been restored. Take this letter and read it to them as a preliminary. It states that the heroic soldiers of Rome, who have been my comrades in so many arduous, yet glorious campaigns, are dear to my heart, and that, as soon as I have recovered from the shock of my bereavement - I refer of course to the death of Augustus - I shall refer their grievances to the Senate. Meanwhile, you, Drusus, have the authority to grant any concessions that may be safely granted. Make the soldiers understand that the Senate is capable of generosity as well as of severity . . ."

I embraced them both and watched them ride off with hearts that were lighter than my own. This was natural: they were young and proceeding to the point of action; I was old and condemned to remain in Rome, unable further to influence events. The next weeks were anxious for me.

They were made more anxious by news from the Rhine. Possibly inspired by news of the Danube mutinies, the legions there followed suit. These were the responsibility of my nephew and adopted son Germanicus. Since he was supreme commander in Gaul and on the Rhine frontier, I had no choice but to entrust the suppression of the mutinies to him, setting aside whatever doubts I might have myself as to his ability to do so. These doubts were real, for Germanicus, though a young man of great charm and enterprise, was cursed with the itch of popularity. Moreover, it was soon reported to me that certain elements among the mutineers hoped to persuade him to lead them in civil war, even though he had taken an oath of loyalty to me as Augustus' successor.

The response of the three young men to the dangers into which they were thrust was significant. Drusus and Sejanus behaved with diplomatic skill, and exemplary fortitude; Germanicus like an actor. The accounts each gave reveal much of their individual characters, and hint at future difficulties I was to experience.

Drusus wrote as follows:

When we arrived here, Father, the situation was even worse than I had imagined. The soldiers, as I preferred always to think even of the mutineers, met us at the gate of the camp. It was shocking to see their disarray. The men were disgustingly dirty, but they were not as disorganised as they looked, for as soon as we were gathered in the camp, they picketed the gates and placed armed outposts at key points. It was almost as if we were their prisoners; certainly we were in a sense hostages. Nevertheless I mounted the rostrum and read your letter to them. This calmed them for a moment and they put forward an officer, Julius Clemens, whom you will remember as skilful in staff-work, to present their demands. Clemens, I should say, had agreed to be associated with the mutineers in order to try to act as a bridge between them and the authorities. I should say that he showed considerable courage and public spirit in undertaking this dangerous role, which he performed in a manner that won my admiration. He now presented demands concerning conditions of service - asking that this be limited to sixteen years, that pay be increased to four sesterces a day, and that they should be guaranteed freedom from recall after release. I replied that these demands did not seem altogether unreasonable, but that they were matters which would require to be referred to the emperor and Senate. I added that I would urge you, my father, and the Senate to look sympathetically on them.

This answer appeased a great part of the crowd. Unfortunately, however, one of the ringleaders, a private named Vibulenius, realised that the mutiny in which he and his like so delighted, since it gave them a sense of power that they had never previously experienced, was in danger of withering away. So he fanned the flames.

"Why is it," he cried, "that when it comes to decisions about our conditions of service, the emperor calls in the Senate? But when it's a matter of punishment or battles we don't hear anything about the Senate. In the old days Tiberius used to shelter behind Augustus when it came to denying us satisfaction for our grievances; now Drusus has come here to hide behind Tiberius . . ."

Well, the meeting broke up with nothing decided, but at least without the outbreak of violence which seemed likely at one point. All the same, the situation was extremely tense. Any officer or member of the Guard whom the mutineers encountered was insulted and some were attacked. Gnaeus Cornelius Lentulus, for instance, was hit on the head by a stone, and would have been lynched but for the arrival of a troop of the Guards. Still, we got to our huts and were able to take counsel.

It was obvious to us that most of the men were reasonable, as men usually are, individually, but that they were incited to a sort of temporary madness by a subversive minority, who did not have the men's welfare at heart, but sought only to enjoy their unexpected power and licence. Someone remarked that what we had to do was to divide the sheep from the goats, as it were, or rather the sheep from the wild dogs. "Divide and rule" should be our game-plan. I therefore agreed that officers of my staff should venture into the camp, holding as many private discussions as they deemed safe, in an attempt to identify the wild dogs and to persuade the sheep that we would urge careful consideration of their grievances, always reminding them of the care you have always shown for their welfare, and pointing out also that it would be difficult to treat honourably soldiers who seemed to have abandoned the discipline and sense of duty characteristic of their calling. I may say that the courage of those officers who undertook this perilous assignment was remarkable; their skill in carrying it out wholly commendable, for during that night the good soldiers gradually disengaged themselves from those who had incited them. A sense of obedience gradually crept over the camp, like the first light of dawn. The soldiers withdrew themselves from the gates, and the eagles and standards set up at the outbreak of the mutiny were returned to their proper place.

This was encouraging, and the next morning I called another meeting. I found the men in a new, amenable frame of mind. I spoke severely at first. Caesar, I said, had once addressed mutinous troops by the name of civilians, rather than of soldiers. The previous day I had been unable to accord them even that less dignified term. (For you know better than I how soldiers despise civilians, even as citizens, except when danger runs high, affect to despise soldiers.) Now, I said, it seemed that reason had prevailed, that the gods had withdrawn their madness from the soldiers and that they were therefore ready to resume their proper bearing. Threats and intimidation could make no impression on me or on my father or on the dignity of the Roman Senate. If, however, they were now pleading for pardon, then I would recommend mercy to you, and, as I had promised yesterday, a careful hearing of their grievances, for which I did not lack sympathy. They begged me to write to you at once. I despatched the delegation which has brought you this letter. The mutiny is over, for the moment, and we propose to arrest and isolate the ringleaders. But the men have been harshly treated in the last months. They are now cowed, but if their grievances remain unattended, they will become resentful.

I could not have behaved better than Drusus myself, and my heart glowed with pride in my son.

A letter from Sejanus arrived a few days later.

You will have heard from Drusus how worthily he behaved, in a manner that showed him to be a true son of his father. The mutiny is over. My own part in its suspension was necessarily secondary, and may be judged small. I should like, however, to draw your attention to the admirable manner in which the Guards conducted themselves. I have no doubt that the example of their discipline contributed to the collapse of the mutiny.

The confusion when we arrived was indescribable but, for me, the most interesting moments came during that first night when we conducted an exercise in propaganda which ought to become a model for the education of officers. I must say it taught me a bit about human nature. It was interesting to see how completely morale can collapse when one sets oneself to prey on natural anxieties. The men had committed themselves to a course which at heart alarmed them. As soon as I realised this, I started putting the question: "Are you going to swear loyalty to Percennius and Vibulenius? Do you really imagine they can do anything for you? Do you suppose this ex-cheerleader and crazy private are going to replace Tiberius and Drusus as leaders and lords of the Roman world?" You could see these were questions they had been asking in their own hearts. Then I said: "You want more money? Right? Do you think these two clowns are going to be able to pay you? How can they raise money when the stores in the camp run out? And are they going to provide you with land when you retire ? I hadn't heard they had farms to give away. Where are their own estates ? Don't you see they have led you by the nose?"