Nero's Heirs (13 page)

The Empire is Roman, but it is not merely Rome; and if it was it would be a mean thing. I am not, as an Imperialist, inclined to any cheap complacency. On the contrary, I burn with ardour when I consider the magnitude of our task. For, ultimately, the Empire is peace - peace, justice and that prosperity in which alone true liberty, the liberty of the untrammelled philosophic mind, can flourish.

You can tell, can you not, that it is late at night, when I write like this. Indeed it is so late that the hills of Galilee are touched with dawn's rose-pink fingers.

Yet, excited by my rhetoric, and reassured that you, my audience of one, will understand my sentiments and feel them with me, I can scarce bring myself to stop.

The aim of Imperialism then is not conquest, though conquest was needed to make its realisation possible. But conquest was the preliminary to the great task of consolidation and development, and the still greater task of bringing all the subjects of the Empire into citizenship, that they may share in the traditions, faith and liberties of Rome.

Read Virgil, and you will find the meaning of Empire stated more clearly than I can define it.

I believe that I am destined to make the dream of Imperialism a reality for all within the borders of the Roman world. There is great work to be done, by me or my successors. For example, one evil that I see is that too many men are rich beyond their needs and too many miserably poor. There is a great work to be done in reorganising what I call the world economy. Prosperity should benefit all, not merely fat, greasy bankers and speculators, and those granted the farming of the taxes.

Oh, I have so many ideas . . .

But - you will say - Titus is mad, he is running ahead of reality. He is not Emperor, he is not even a provincial Governor, only the son of Vespasian who was pelted with turnips by citizens, and meanwhile Rome itself is like a beautiful woman threatened with rape by conflicting suitors. Indeed the poor lady is being raped daily; the city brought into being by the kindness of a she-wolf is now laid waste by wolves that know not, or have forgotten, the very word kindness; forgotten humanity, forgotten duty, and think licence liberty.

Your account of the fall and death of Galba was pitiful, because it was evident that Galba had no understanding of his position, that, lacking such understanding, he had recourse to ancient manners and modes of thought meaningless today. He was a man born to play a subsidiary role, as a mere functionary, thrust by his own foolish ambition into a part that had not been written for him - you were right there, in questioning why he did not turn aside the offer of the purple, which he was incompetent to wear.

And to have chosen that Piso as his son, heir, and companion in Empire, bespeaks a mind that was dull and conventional.

And how, I ask myself, could Piso have supposed himself capable of Empire - Piso who had never commanded an army in his life, not even a legion, who had no imagination and never once entertained a generous thought.

Now there is Otho . . . well, he will be popular for a few months - and then? Then he will be revealed for what he is, a clever fellow, witty, charming, everybody's friend - and respected by nobody. It is impossible to govern if you are not respected.

Meanwhile the German legions are on the march, as if we were back in the days of the Republic and the Civil Wars. Which indeed is where we seem to be.

But don't be deceived. Either a strong Emperor must emerge, which won't be either Otho or - save the mark! - Vitellius, or the Empire will crumble and disintegrate - which is impossible, since our Destiny, promised to the pious Aeneas, has not yet been fulfilled.

Hence my confidence and my serenity.

There are three words I would have you lodge in your mind, for they express my purpose, which is Rome's: Humanity, Liberty, Felicity. If we are guided by the principles incorporated in these words, then Rome will indeed be the Eternal City.

But, though I am sure in my destiny, I am not so great a fool as to suppose that it is wise, or even possible, to succeed if one neglects tactics and even base information.

So, though you are not base, it is what you may learn of the mean ambitions and base practices of those who compete for power in this wounded Italy of ours that I require of you - if you love me, as I am happy to believe you do.

Continue then, my dear, to send me all you can glean of what passes in Rome - and when happier days return, why, I shall introduce you to Berenice's daughters, and give you the pick of them.

I send you all my love or all the love it is proper that I send, and then more. You are part of me for ever and I of you. Titus.

So in all my wanderings I have kept this letter, which I shall not send to Tacitus.

XVII

You don't, you say, Tacitus, want my opinions, but only my memories. Dear man, do you suppose the one can be distinguished from the other?

The strange thing was that Otho's reign seemed for a few weeks to be an exercise in virtue. He set aside the pleasures in which he had extravagantly delighted. He behaved with more dignity than any Emperor since Tiberius. That was my mother's opinion, which you will therefore respect as you always respected her. The competition since Tiberius was not, admittedly, stiff. Nevertheless, I suppose you will say that Otho was a hypocrite and that in time his vices would have re-emerged, all the more powerfully and disgracefully on account of their period of suppression.

But virtue was expressed in acts. His treatment of Marius Celsus was only one example. He had been a faithful friend of Galba who had arranged his nomination as Consul elect. The mob demanded that he should follow Galba to the grave. Otho hesitated to save him, and ordered him to be loaded with chains and carried to the Mamertine prison, that execution chamber from which, throughout Rome's history, few have emerged alive. But Otho made Marius Celsus an exception. As soon as the fickle fury of the mob had spent itself, Otho released him, and even appointed him to a military command. That was honourable.

Nero's favourite, the freedman Tigellinus, whom he had made commander of the Praetorians - a man who had prompted Nero to every cruelty, wickedness and act of folly - had escaped punishment from Galba, being protected by Vinius. The reason given was that at some unspecified date Tigellinus had himself placed the shield of his protection over Vinius' daughter, saving her, though whether from disgrace or death I cannot recall. No doubt this was policy, for Tigellinus, fearing a reversal of fortune, was careful to cultivate some private friendships which he trusted might preserve him from the justice to which he would then be exposed. Now, his protector gone, Tigellinus found he must answer for his crimes. Otho sent to tell him he had cumbered the earth too long, and to advise him that the mob was ready to tear him limb from limb. Tigellinus received this unwelcome news with unexpected courage. He bedded the current favourite among his mistresses - all well-born girls whom he had seduced when they were under age - and then, dismissing her, cut his throat.

This news added to Otho's popularity, and many said he would prove a good Emperor. Even his decision to spare the life of Gallia Crispinilla, one of Nero's mistresses who had fomented rebellion in Africa and - it was believed - attempted to prevent the corn ships from sailing to Rome, was soon forgiven. As my mother said, 'The woman is a trollop and utterly unprincipled, Otho's enemy too, but to consent to her execution would have been barbaric'

In many ways indeed he suggested that he might make at least a tolerable Emperor - if he did not tire of the part, as my mother, though indulgent to him, advised me he would. He did not interfere with the public appointments and pleased the Senate by granting positions to elderly Senators of eminence. Young nobles who had returned from the exile to which they had been condemned by Nero or which they had fearfully chosen were greeted warmly and invested with priestly honours held by their fathers and grandfathers. If Caesar's watchword after his invasion of Italy had been clemency, Otho's appeared to be conciliation. For instance, he sent ambassadors to Vitellius who, with the German legions, had marched deep into Trans-alpine Gaul, with instructions to discover their grievances, and propose remedies. They were also to assure Vitellius that, if he collaborated in the restoration of peace, he should have an honourable position as second man in the Empire.

Had Vitellius been left to his own devices, he might well have accepted this proposal, even with joy. This is speculation, I admit, but Vitellius - flabby, self-indulgent, weak-willed and cowardly -must have known in his heart that no man was less fitted than he to engage in a bruising and desperate struggle for Empire; even if he emerged victorious, he would then be compelled to assume a burden he was incapable of bearing. Vitellius was not a bad man, merely a soft one. Or so I think now.

But Vitellius enjoyed no independence, though the legions had invested him with the purple. On the contrary, he was the puppet creature of the legates Fabius Valens and Alienus Caecina. Neither had acquired the reputation sufficient to compensate for undistinguished birth, that would make him a credible candidate for Empire. Both were young, able and ambitious. Caecina especially was a favourite of the troops on account of his handsome stature, courage, audacity and eloquence. Both had been originally proteges of Galba, but had turned against him: Valens I know not why; Caecina, on account of Galba's order that he be prosecuted for the embezzlement of public money while he was quaestor in Baetica. Both saw that Vitellius, on account of his rank and open-handed manner which made him popular with the soldiers, could afford them the means of rising to power which they could not attain in any other way. At the same time his malleability, sloth and self-indulgence which, even on the march through Gaul, generally saw him half-cut by midday, ensured that they must dominate him. Yet, in some curious manner, he retained the esteem of his troops who even hailed him as
Germanicus,
a title associated with that beloved of the legions, the father of the Emperor Gaius. It was absurd; nevertheless it was so.

It could not be expected therefore that Valens and Caecina, the animators of this charade, would welcome the approach of Otho's ambassadors, who promised honour and position to their nominal chief, and nothing of substance to them. So, either by threats or inducements, they suborned the ambassadors, impressed by the might and resolution of the German legions and by the danger of their own position.

In Rome meanwhile, before we heard of these tidings, Flavius Sabinus, though he had been again confirmed in his office, grew anxious. Good government and pacification were no doubt admirable, to be desired, but good government and pacification of the Empire by Otho ran counter to his plans and ambitions for his family. He assured us it would not last. I thought he was right, though my reasons were not his. Domitian was less convinced. 'Am I to be sacrificed,' he muttered, 'for the ambitions of my father, and still more my brother and uncle, ambitions which the present trend of events suggest are vain?' He thought it in his interest to make overtures to Otho and his friends, though he was, of course, so insignificant, so young, and his record so barren of achievement (no fault of his, I admit) that his approaches either went unnoticed or aroused no interest.

The calm of the first fortnight in February was illusory. The riot that broke out in the middle of the month did much to restore Flavius Sabinus' spirits.

In its origins it was a trivial affair.

Otho had given orders that the
1
7th cohort be brought to Rome from Ostia and gave the charge of arming it to a tribune of the Praetorians, named Crispinus (or perhaps Craspitus; I do not remember). For some reason of his own, this officer chose to order that the move be carried out by night, when the camp was quiet. But the hour provoked suspicion that something more sinister was afoot. There was a disturbance, and the sight of arms inflamed a drunken crowd. They cried out - someone cried out - that the arms were being taken to the houses of those Senators who were opposed to Otho, and that a coup d'etat was underway. The soldiers, some of whom were drunk, joined in the accusation. Fighting broke out, among those who were trying to enforce or obey the harmless order of the Emperor and those who were seized with the idea that the arms were to be used against him. The tribune, Crispinus - Craspitus? - attempting to do as he was ordered, was cut down and trampled in the gutter, and several centurions who stood by him were also slain. Then the soldiers, convinced that they had foiled an attempt on their Emperor's life, mounted their horses, bared their swords, and galloped to the city and the palace.

There Otho was holding a reception for some of the most distinguished men and women of the city. I was among them, on account of my birth; and Domitian had been seized with jealousy, not having had an invitation himself. The confused and frightening noise of the soldiers' tumult in the courtyard created consternation. Nobody knew what was happening. Some feared it was an attempt on the life of the Emperor; others that Otho himself had planned a massacre of his guests, or at least their arrest. Few behaved well; most like poltroons. Some fled, losing themselves in the corridors of the palace or finding the doors barred and guarded - for Otho's bodyguard was likewise in ignorance of the cause of the tumult. Some did escape by side-doors or windows and, hastening from the Palatine by whatever route they thought most obscure, regained the city, where however (as I was later told) many did not dare to go to their own houses, but either wandered the streets lamenting the evil days or took refuge in the lodgings of their humblest clients.