Tiberius Page 12

  WHAT DOES YOUR WIFE GET UP TO IN THE NIGHT? ARE YOU AFRAID TO ASK HER WHERE SHE HAS BEEN?

  I questioned the slaves. All denied any knowledge of the message. It is impossible of course to get the truth from slaves when they are frightened unless you threaten them with torture. I am afraid of doing that, lest I take pleasure in it. Besides, men will say anything under torture and you may be no nearer any truth except what they think you want to hear. Which is rarely the truth.

  I had tried to speak to Julia many times since my return. I didn't know how to. It was clear that any love she had felt for me had died with our little son. We made love twice. Then she denied me my bed, and it was not in my nature to compel her to fulfil her marital duties. "I'm bored," she said, "you disgust me, you smell of Germans." I remember I turned away because I felt myself blushing. "I would rather make love to a corpse," she said, "you stink of so many deaths." "What do you expect of a soldier?"

  "War, brutality, delight in slaughter, greed for power, they all disgust me."

  "Julia, you know, you must know, that I have never taken pleasure in slaughter, I have only tried to do my duty . . ."

  "Oh what a bore you are, what a dismal bore," and there was no laughter in her voice, as there would formerly have been when she uttered that reproach, but she turned instead a gaze on me that was as beautiful and as petrifying as Medusa's.

  Livia advised me "to look to my wife".

  "You made her that, Mother," I said. "The match was not of my devising. I was happily married before."

  "That's not to the point," she said. "I don't know whether you are blind of intention, but doesn't your pride revolt at the thought that her infidelity is now flagrant, that she makes a public fool of you?"

  "I hear you, Mother."

  "Do you know what they are saying? The joke is that Tiberius may be a match for Germans, but he's no match for Julia, and then they go on to say we could end the German war quicker if instead of sending old Tiberius to subdue them, we sent Julia to seduce them. What do you say to that?"

  "Nothing, Mother, you and the Princeps made this marriage, not I. So you can mend it."

  "If you were a man you would whip her into good behaviour."

  I almost answered: does Augustus whip you? But prudence prevailed. However, I smiled to remember the occasion when he was assuring the Senate that husbands ought to exact obedience from their wives and reproach them if they strayed, only to be interrupted by a senator who cried out "I'd like to see you make Livia toe the line . . ."

  I could choose to disregard Livia. When I received a warning from the Praetorian Prefect, I had to take heed. He was polite, circumspect, appalling. He told me my wife was not only unfaithful, but that her behaviour threatened public scandal. She took part in orgies which were not confined to the nobility.

  "That would be a private matter, sir, or up to a point. But when all sorts of riff-raff are involved, well, you can see that it's a matter of public order. Of course she's generally masked, but, well, sir, a mask can slip, can't it? And she's not the sort of lady you forget, is she?"

  He laid his forefinger along his nose.

  "You won't like me for telling you all this, sir, but if you want names and addresses, you shall have them. I ought to pass them on to the Princeps, that's my duty, but frankly, sir, I don't dare to perform it. And I haven't come to the worst of it. A word to the wise, as you might say: some of the nobles she consorts with are what we call in the business 'security risks'. They're the sort of boys who fail our system of 'positive vetting'. I don't know if the Princeps has acquainted you with that, sir?"

  "No," I said, "you see I am only his stepson and son-in-law, this year's consul and a general who has been awarded a triumph. I haven't been trusted with information about your system of . . . what did you call it?"

  "Positive vetting, sir."

  "Positive vetting? A miserable neologism."

  "That's as may be, sir. But a necessity, believe you me, the way things are. Well, it's my belief you should know about it, sir, and so I am going to take upon myself the responsibility of at least outlining the system to you."

  He then explained that Augustus had become concerned by the possibility of appointing to positions of authority men whose allegiance to the "New Order" was less than it might be. Though he prided himself - rightly, I think - on his judgment of men, he was aware that that judgment was necessarily subjective, and frequently the result of imperfect acquaintance. He had thereby devised a system, after consultation with the Praetorian Prefect and the secret police, whereby every candidate for office was thoroughly investigated: his antecedents were checked, his friendships assessed, slaves were set to report dinner-party conversations, his financial affairs were examined, and his sexual habits and tastes ascertained.

  "In this way, sir, a total picture is assembled. Like a mosaic, if I may speak fancifully. No little piece may yield significance on its own, but each one helps to make the total picture comprehensible and comprehensive, sir. It's a wonderful system and you would be amazed at what we come to know."

  "No doubt."

  "Well, I'm sorry to say, sir, that many of the noblemen with whom the Lady Julia consorts are what we call Category C. Some are even Category D, which means that they are fortunate to be allowed to reside in Rome, sir, and not confined to their country estates, or sent into exile. We get all manner of reports, you understand, from our professional delators — 'sewers' we call them in the firm, for it's their business to draw off all the filth of the city for our inspection — and, believe you me, when I read some of the reports the sewers send in about gentlemen such as Iullus Antonius and Crispinus and young Sempronius Gracchus, well, sir, the hairs on the back of my head stand on end and my blood runs cold. And these are the sort of types your lady wife runs about with, and worse than runs, I'm afraid. Well, sir, if I brought it to the attention of the Princeps, I don't dare to think what mightn't result. That's why I've been so bold as to approach you in the first instance, as you might say. I'll leave you this little list, sir, of her noble lovers. There are others of course who are not noble, and therefore of no political importance."

  I could not credit all the names. I had, of course, known the men all my life, some very well, others only by sight and reputation. There was my cousin Appius Claudius Pulcher; it seemed unlikely that he was one of her lovers for I believed him to like only virgins, the younger the better; and Publius Cornelius Scipio seemed also an improbable choice of lover, for his effeminacy was blatant — he had been a dear friend of Maecenas, and was widely despised as a pathic, a degenerate with a taste for mature men. (To such depths had the great house of Scipio sunk.) But the others were only too credible: Antonius had declared his interest to me in unmistakable terms of course, and, since my return from Germany, had bestowed upon me a smile of radiant superiority while remarking: "To some, my dear Tiberius, Mars awards triumphs, to others Venus." And Gracchus, a liar from childhood, a cynic, a debauchee, a man perpetually disgruntled and at odds with the world. And Crispinus, one who, it now occurs to me, would certainly at any time in history have distinguished himself in that competition in wickedness which Socrates had imagined; a man who was believed to have compelled his wife to have intercourse with slaves that he might enjoy the spectacle, and to have starved his own son to death when he protested - the thought of Julia abandoning herself to such creatures as she no longer abandoned herself to me, of their making free of the delights now denied me, that thought, even now, two years later, makes me retch. It persuades me to despair of human nature.

  I sent the Prefect on his way, understanding more than ever why the Persians used to slay the bearer of bad news. It would have given me satisfaction to have silenced him forever with a dagger thrust into his mouth; to have cut off that tongue that took such pleasure in relaying this filth.

  He had left me with the list. And there was nothing I could do. This Rome to which I had returned contained horrors that made the German forests seem benign as the
water-meadows by Clitumnus. I could not speak to Julia; I could not even look at her without seeing the corruption of her beauty. But I smelled danger: these men, her lovers, were hungry, bitter, dissatisfied. Julius Caesar, I recalled, had feared Caius Cassius on account of his lean and hungry look. Such men, he had remarked, are dangerous.

  So I had to warn her, and since I could not bring myself to speak of the matter, I wrote her a letter.

  Julia,

  I don't know what has gone wrong between us since the death of our beloved son. What I see and hear of your behaviour leads me to believe that his death has disgusted you of everything, and led you to despair of the possibility that there is, or ever can be, any right ordering of things. It grieves me that you seem to include me among your objects of repugnance.

  Our marriage was not of our seeking. It was imposed upon us without consideration of our feelings. I know you would have preferred to marry another, and I sympathise with your sentiments in that direction.

  Nevertheless the marriage was made. I endeavoured from the start to fulfil my obligations as a husband and, in doing so, I was rewarded by the awakening of love for you and the renewal of that physical passion I had felt for you when we were young. I believed that with the birth of little Tiberius, you were, to my great joy, able to reciprocate my feelings.

  Time, the exigencies of duty, circumstance and cruel fate have torn us apart, even as little Tiberius was torn from our tender embraces. Such was the harsh will of the gods to which we are compelled to submit. Believe me, I understand your unwillingness to accept the cogency of Fate. I am even able to admire your rebellious will, and to sympathise with what I see to be your unhappiness.

  I am prepared to accept your rejection of me as being the expression of impulses which have invaded you and which you cannot control. Your rejection tastes sour as vinegar in my mouth. Nevertheless I accommodate myself to the strength of your repugnance, and only pray that it may abate in time and that affection may grow again from this wintry soil.

  But I must say one thing to you which is harsh. I have my pride and I cannot endure dishonour. I am not a Claudian for nothing. If you cannot love me, I accept that, but I must ask you to conduct yourself in a seemly fashion such as becomes a wife of the head of the Claudian gens. You owe that duty to me, just as you owe a duty to your father not to bring his moral legislation into disrepute.

  And one other thing: you can only hope for happiness if you attain self-respect. I believe you are in danger of losing this. You may even have lost it already. You cannot be at ease till you recover it. There is danger of more than one sort in the course you are pursuing.

  Believe me, Julia, I have your interests at heart.

  She responded to my attempt at conciliation and my warning with only a brief note.

  You always were a prig, now you are stupid as well. You were always cold and self-regarding. Consider the brutality of your own conduct. I have been denied everything all my life, forced to live in accordance with the will of others. I've had enough of it. I'm living for myself now. I prefer it that way. You're a fool to think I am unhappy. And don't threaten me again. I have my own weapons.

  When I got this letter, I found in it something that compelled my pity, and softened my heart. I read misery between the lines. I hastened to her private apartments. The slave-girl who was tidying the room told me she had left that morning for a villa at Baiae, given her by her father as a wedding-present when she married Marcellus.

  "Did she leave a message for me?"

  The girl blushed and stammered.

  "Yes, my lord, but I don't dare to repeat it. . ."

  "I see. Nothing written?"

  "No, my lord.

  12

  Pride is a great silencer. It sealed my lips. I spoke to nobody of my distress, and no one could have guessed my state of mind from my demeanour. The letter which I sent after Julia, and of which I no longer possess a copy, was couched in language which could have offered no grounds for suspicion to any government agent who intercepted it. Circumspection in language is the price we pay for civil order.

  My stepfather continued to honour me. I was awarded the tribunicia potestas, that rag torn from Republican days in which Augustus had dressed himself to disguise his despotism, in which Agrippa also had been clad; the tribuniciary power rendered my person inviolate, gave me authority in Rome, the power to introduce or to veto legislation, and lent my elevation a misleadingly popular touch. By his use of the tribunicia potestas Augustus had declared his difference from the common run of senators and was enabled to present himself (pose, some would say) as the defender and protector of the common people. Nothing, not even his command of the armies, so displeased men of Republican sentiments as his use of this rusty piece of the machinery of Republican government.

  Yet though he honoured me publicly, and made it clear that I was Rome's premier general, there was no warmth in his commendation. I felt slighted. It was clear to me that he was ready to use me, and as ready to discard me when I had served my turn. That would happen when the boys, Gaius and Lucius, were grown-up. His partiality towards them was extreme. He was even prepared to cheat on their behalf. In a performance of the Troy Game, that simulacrum of war in which well-born youths are given the chance to prove their prowess, Augustus, who acted as a sort of referee of this mimic battle, called foul when a certain stocky and uncouth boy was sitting astride young Lucius and pummelling him in the face. There was nothing in the rules of the game which warranted his interference, and it was obvious that his action was provoked by his desire to save Lucius from the consequences of his own misjudgment. A beating would have done the boy no harm, and taught him much. Augustus' care for the boys has been as excessive as his unrestrained impulse to flatter them has been absurd. I am amazed that Lucius at least has survived this mixture of coddling and admiration, and become such a pleasant and likeable young man. But I am glad to say that my own son, Drusus, has escaped such spoiling and been reared more sensibly.

  Augustus' fondness for the boys was grotesque. He never reproved them that I heard of, and told them time and again, in front of other people, that they represented the glorious future of Rome. "Everything that I do is for your sakes," I once heard him say, a sentiment that made nonsense of the great part of his life, and one that reflected ill on his conception of his duty to the Roman people. Of course he was right to encourage youth, and was especially proud of his establishment of Colleges of Youth in all the municipalities of Italy; but he took it too far in the case of his grandsons. I could scarcely believe it when he fondly told them, in my hearing, that at an appropriate date, he would encourage the Senate to accord them the title principes iuventutis — Princes of the Youth Movement. This was too much; it smacked of hereditary monarchy.

  I expressed my indignation to my mother. She was spinning wool, an affectation, as I had often told her, and one naturally encouraged by her husband. He thought it made for good "public relations" — a vile phrase he had learned from one of his Greek freedmen — to let it be known that his wife engaged in traditional domestic crafts like spinning and weaving.

  "You don't really enjoy that, do you, Mother?"

  "As a matter of fact I do. It's very soothing. Perhaps you should take it up yourself. You look strained."

  "No wonder."

  "But you are stupid to fight your father's love for those boys."

  "Do I have to remind you that I stand in the same relation to them myself as he does to me? They are not bad boys, but he is in danger of ruining them."

  "He is planning for the future, that's all. As we grow older, Tiberius, something strange happens to us. We find the horizon very short one day and stretching out illimitably the next. You can't blame Augustus for being concerned with what happens to the state when he has gone."

  "And have I no part in that? Is there no room for me in his plans?"

  "Of course there is, of course you have. How could it be otherwise considering your age, achievement and stati
on? Moreover, you might remember that I am capable of making my own plans and carrying them out. For example I am arranging that Gaius should marry your brother's daughter, little Livia Julia."

  "Very nice. That will maintain your influence, Mother."

  "Don't take that tone with me. I dislike it. I always have. And I know what it means. You are about to sink into a fit of sulks."

  "That's ridiculous. I'm concerned of course about my personal position."

  "You will be the first man in the state — when your stepfather dies."

  "He will live twenty years. And what will I be then? But I am not merely concerned with my own position. I disapprove fundamentally, Mother, of the direction in which things are tending. We are in danger of becoming like an eastern despotism, with a law of succession. It's not Roman."

  "Yes, Tiberius, you are a conservative. It is that which makes you unhappy. Well, I share your sentiments but I have the intelligence to know that things have to change if we want them to remain the same. And I know that Augustus' creation is good because unlike you I can remember the civil wars. Don't become like your father, Tiberius, a man for whom all virtue resided only in the past, who viewed the new world as something made for his personal distress."