Tiberius i-2

by Allan Massie

  By the time he eventually reached Armenia, he found the immediate danger over. Certain Armenian noblemen — persons whom I had known myself or whose fathers had known me — had had the wit and enterprise to seek my advice directly. Letters were exchanged, presents were despatched according to their advice, and by the time my nephew came on the scene, I had arranged that he should crown Zeno, the son of King Ptolemo of Pontus, as their king. Zeno had long adopted the habits of Armenian noblemen, and he was devoted to hunting, feasting and such barbarian practices. Nevertheless, though the immediate danger was, as I say, past, the arrival of my nephew lent dignity to the occasion and mightily impressed the impressionable Armenians. Nor would I wish to deny that Germanicus carried out his duties in an altogether exemplary fashion.

  Piso, meanwhile, had arrived in Syria, and was behaving in a manner which was not at all what I had intended. It may be that his elevation had gone to his head. Possibly he was prompted by his wife Plancina, a protegee, as it happened, of my mother; Plancina detested Agrippina and was determined to outshine her. At any rate a quarrel soon broke out between Piso and Germanicus. It was some time before I heard of it, and I was displeased. I had asked Piso to supervise Germanicus, not to thwart him; but by every mail I received complaints from my nephew. Piso, he said, was trying to secure the allegiance of his four legions for himself, rather than for Rome. Moreover he had refused to send Germanicus a legion when requested to do so; this was an infringement of Germanicus' maius imperium. In defence, Piso suggested that he was suspicious of Germanicus' intentions and was therefore unwilling to surrender one of his legions. As for allowing his men to call him "father of the army", of which Germanicus had complained: well, he couldn't prevent his popularity, could he? Besides, he said, he was suspicious of Germanicus' own intentions. I knew how he had behaved in Germany, and he was carrying on in the same way now. Piso was afraid that Germanicus intended mischief; "Think of Caesar," he said. Piso's letters were copious and detailed. I cannot quote them exactly or at length, for I later deemed it prudent to destroy them, but I remember that warning.

  In the autumn Germanicus visited Egypt. He had no right to do so, as I reminded the Senate, for a senator, even a connection of the divine Augustus, required my permission in order to enter my private domain. I said this principally so that no other senator should feel free to follow my nephew's example, and the reproof I directed at him was mild; I merely pointed out that he should have asked my permission, which would, of course, have been granted, and that his failure to do so had set a bad example. Naturally he was interested in seeing the Egyptian sites. I remember I even asked him if he had seen the stone statue of Memnon, a remarkable object which gives out the sound of a voice when the sun's rays strike it. I advised him also to visit the great library of the Museum in Alexandria, and asked him to convey my regards to the great scholar Apion, whom I described as "the cymbal of the world"; his Egyptian history is full not only of recondite information but of sage reflections; his pamphlet Against the Jews, though perhaps intemperate, argues the case against that curious people's obstinate monotheism with acuity and vigour. These memories, unimportant in themselves, may serve to convince sceptics of my generally friendly relations with my nephew. However his with Piso had deteriorated abruptly. There were faults on both sides. Piso believed that Germanicus was employing his mains imperium in a manner that prejudiced his own authority. Germanicus complained that Piso had reversed orders he had given to divisional commanders. In a fit of pique he ordered him out of Syria, and Piso, though furious, finding his position intolerable, obeyed; he retired to the island of Cos. All this happened abruptly, without consultation with me.

  Then Germanicus fell ill, of a fever common in these parts. He seemed to recover, then had a relapse. It was reported that he accused Piso and Plancina of having poisoned him. Agrippina, in no condition to judge anything, was vociferous in accusation. She ordered her slaves to seek evidence of poison and magic; naturally they found what they were required to find, as slaves will. Examination of the floor and walls of his bedroom revealed human bones, signs of spells, curses, and invocations; there were lead tablets inscribed with my nephew's name, charred and bloody ashes, and other "malignant objects effective to consign souls to the powers of the tomb", as they put it.

  According to Marcus Friso, who subsequently made a full report of the circumstances to me, Germanicus then said, "Even if I were dying a natural death, I should have a legitimate grudge against the gods for parting me from wife, children, country and friends, and for denying me the due rewards of my virtue. But it is not the gods, but rather those demons in human shape, Piso and Plancina, whom I accuse. Tell my father, the emperor, of the vile conspiracy which has brought about my death. You will have the opportunity to protest to the Senate and invoke the law. The chief duty of a friend is not to walk in grief behind a corpse, but rather to remember the dead man's desires and carry out his will. Even strangers will mourn Germanicus. But if it was me you loved, not merely my rank, then I charge you to avenge me."

  A slave wiped his brow with a cool napkin, while Agrippina stood by, dry-eyed and with a harsh expression on her face.

  Germanicus raised himself on his elbow and continued: "Show Rome my wife, the grand-daughter of the divine Augustus. Display the weeping faces of our six children. Sympathy will go to the accusers. Any tale of criminal instructions given to Piso will be hard to believe; but if believed, far harder to forgive."

  This was a remarkable speech from a dying man, or would have been if Friso had actually heard it. In fact, as he made clear, he was repeating only the version sanctioned by Agrippina. The only authentic touch was the contrast between the concerned care of the slave and her dry eyes. Friso added that Agrippina had also told her intimates that Germanicus had advised her to tread warily where I myself was concerned.

  He died. In his funeral eulogy he was compared to Alexander. No one is on oath on such occasions, but this was absurd. It was said that after defeating the Germans many times, he had not been allowed to complete their subjugation. If he had been in sole control, he would have equalled Alexander in military renown as easily as he surpassed him in decency, self-control and every good quality.

  It was easy to see at whom the eulogy was aimed, by whom it had been inspired.

  His body lay in state in the main piazza of Antioch. Some of those who examined it found indubitable evidence of poisoning, which must be accounted a medical miracle. Then it was cremated, not embalmed, as one might have thought proper in such circumstances. Agrippina appointed Gnaeus Sentius Saturninus commander of her late husband's legions, and, in effect, Governor of Syria; then she sailed for Italy with her children and the ashes of her husband. I say "she appointed" because that was actually, as Friso told me, what happened, though of course it was dressed up in a more suitable manner, and it was given out that the decision had been made by senior officials, officers and senators. Sentius then fortified the province against Piso. He also arrested and sent to Rome a woman called Martina who was known to be a friend of Plancina and who was, he reported, a notorious poisoner.

  Piso, confident that he was still rightful Governor of Syria, on the strength of his original appointment by me, which I had not had either the occasion or indeed the opportunity to revoke, now attempted to re-enter his province. Sentius resisted him. There was a brief scuffle or passage of arms, and Piso, lacking support even from those legions he had formerly commanded (whose officers had mostly been suspended either by Germanicus or by Sentius), surrendered. He was placed under arrest and despatched to Rome, charged with making war against Roman forces.

  This news came in piecemeal as Agrippina journeyed slowly, with many stops, across wintry seas to Italy. I was horrified to learn of Germanicus' death. I mourned him as a young man of infinite promise and the son of my beloved brother Drusus. Yet our emotions are rarely single, and my grief was not unmixed with the sense that the gods had done Rome a favour. I regretted also the disgrace of my ol
d friend Piso, and could not believe the accusations being brought against him. Nevertheless these had to be investigated and if they were proved then I had to confess myself sorely deceived in Piso. I could never forgive the murder of my nephew — if it had been murder. My mind was confused, flickering between darkness and light. It was impossible to know what to do for the best.

  Naturally I ordered official mourning for the young man. People fell over themselves to express the depth of their loss, in language which was understandable, if excessive. On such occasions exaggeration becomes the norm. Even sensible people are caught up in the general mood, and imagine that public affairs affect them more nearly than they actually do. It is easy to suppose that one's life is blighted by events which in reality trouble only the imagination.

  I sent two battalions of the Praetorian Guard to greet Agrip-pina at Brindisi. I hesitated at first to put my dear Sejanus in charge for I knew the depths of the woman's antipathy towards him. On reflection, however, I decided that it was necessary to have a man there whom I could trust; and there was no one, except Drusus, in whom I reposed more trust than Sejanus. This was just as well, for the public mood was such that even the Guards themselves might have been infected. As it was, a curious incident took place at Brindisi. The alleged poisoner, Martina, arrived there about the same time, in a different ship. The next day, she was found dead, while Agrippina was still in the city. There were no marks of violence, but poison was found in the roots of her hair. Naturally some people said she had killed herself; others that she had been murdered for fear of what she might reveal. Human nature being as it is, the worst possible construction was put on this. Few reflected that the motive for her murder (if she was indeed murdered) might have been the knowledge that the wretch had nothing to reveal.

  Agrippina's journey to Rome with her husband's ashes was superbly stage-managed. She held, or was accorded, a reception in every town, and lost no opportunity to win sympathy and applause, and to present herself as a sorely aggrieved woman. Sejanus was powerless to do anything but observe and report. His natural prudence told him that it was impossible to stem the surge of sympathy even though at every step it threatened to boil over into sedition.

  Germanicus' own mother, Antonia, was so disgusted by her daughter-in-law's histrionics that she refused to leave her house and greet the arrival of the cortege in Rome. Naturally I did not do so either. For one thing, Sejanus warned me that my presence might provoke disorder. His advice was good, but my absence was criticised. Drusus, however, approved it; his wife, Julia Livilla, though Agrippina's sister-in-law, suggested that the thing to do with the grieving widow was to chuck a bucket of cold water over her. "Even in the nurs ery," she told Drusus, "she was always acting. And as for her love for my brother, she made his life a perfect misery by her constant nagging and complaining." Of course the crowds were ignor ant of this; they revered Agrip pina as the model of what a woman should be.

  I myself arranged that Germanicus' ashes should be laid in the mausoleum near those of Augustus. A huge crowd turned out, the Field of Mars was ablaze with torches. Agrippina stimulated the mob to orgies of grief; she had taken care to distribute a quantity of gold, and her paid creatures exerted themselves in eulogies of her virtue and bitter accusations directed against Piso and those who had "encouraged" him. They had their effect; there were disgraceful riots in the Suburra, Trastevere and the Field of Mars itself. It seemed to me that the situation was getting absurdly out of hand, and I issued the following statement to try to persuade people to return to their senses.

  Famous Romans have died before, but none has been so ardently mourned. I commend your devotion to the memory of Germanicus, my dear son and nephew. But moderation should be observed. The conduct of ordinary families or communities should not be the model for an imperial people. After the first tears, we should observe calm. Remember with what restrained dignity Julius Caesar mourned his daughter and Augustus his beloved grandsons. Remember how our forefathers courageously endured the loss of armies, the death of generals and the destruction of great families, eschewing the tears and lamentations which are suitable only to women. It is not for Romans to resemble hysterical and effeminate Orientals. Great men die; the country lives for ever. So I request citizens to return to their ordinary occupations, and since the Megalesian Games are due to start, to their proper pleasures.

  My words had their desired effect. People were ashamed of their extravagances. Normal life was resumed — to Agrippina's indignation.

  It could not, unfortunately, last. What we call normal is all too often what we aspire to, rather than what we actually experience. In this instance, the lull was short. There was Piso to be considered. He had returned to Rome and was now under a species of restriction in his own house. It overlooked the Forum, and Plancina soon attracted unwelcome attention by the lavish dinner-parties she organised in an attempt to drum up support for her beleaguered husband.

  His case was desperate, and appeared the more so to me as I received more information about his rash and indisciplined conduct. My mother urged me to prevent any trial taking place.

  "Plancina is a good friend of mine," she said, "and I have talked with her at length. I am convinced that the accusations levelled at her and her husband are unfounded. It is impossible that they should have murdered Germanicus. Do you really imagine that if I believed otherwise I should hold any conversation with my grandson's murderer? But it is all the product of Agrippina's warped imagination. She is beside herself with grief, spite and disappointment."

  "I can't stop a trial," I said. "It would give substance to the rumours that make me worse than their accomplice. The whole thing must be aired in court and I am sure they will be acquitted of the charge of murder."

  "Nothing good will come of it," Livia said. "I know people better than you do. If a trial takes place, it will merely give people the opportunity to spread worse and more lurid rumours. For the plebeians find it impossible to distinguish between putting a man on trial and finding him guilty. You will regret this trial if you permit it."

  She was right of course, but I could not prevent the trial. Livia's logic was merely abstract; she had withdrawn from the realities of political affairs, where contingency rules, and one has to act in response to pressures. To have prevented the trial would have been tantamount to declaring not only that Piso was guilty of the worst crimes with which he was charged, but that rumour was right, and he had acted at my behest. Otherwise — men would say — why should I choose to protect him?

  Besides, I did not wish to do so. I had trusted Piso, and in one way or another, he had betrayed that trust. I had thought him competent and sagacious, and he had proved a fool.

  When the Senate met charges were brought against him, first by Lucius Fulcinius Trio, then by two members of Germanicus' staff, Publius Vitellius and Quintus Vernaius. I was asked to take over the enquiry, but urged that it should be heard by the whole Senate. However, I outlined my view of the case.

  "Gnaeus Piso," I said, "was trusted and admired by Augustus, and by me myself. With your approval, Conscript Fathers, I made him Germanicus' helper in his Eastern duties. Unfortunately, as the world knows, they did not see eye to eye, and unwelcome and unforeseen developments took place. Now it is your duty to decide, objectively and without malice, whether, having upset Germanicus by disobedience and quarrelling, he merely rejoiced at his death (about his rejoicing there is no dispute) or whether he did worse than that, and actually compassed his death.

  "Now, if you decide the former, and conclude that Piso exceeded his position and then exulted at Germanicus' death — and at my sorrow, bear that in mind — then I shall renounce his friendship and close my doors against him. But I shall not use those powers which you have chosen to confer upon me merely to avenge private wrongs.

  "If, on the other hand, you find proof of murder, a crime which would require vengeance whatever the victim's rank, it will be your duty to give satisfaction to the children of Germanicus and t
o us, his parents and family. There are also other matters which you must consider.

  "First, did Piso incite his troops to mutiny and rebellion?

  "Second, did he bribe them to support him?

  "Third, did he make rash and illegal war to recover his province..?

  "But you must also ask yourselves whether these are lies spread and elaborated by those whose grief has dislodged their reason.

  "In this context, I must say that the excessive vigour displayed by some who are eager to fasten a crime on Piso has given me cause for irritation. For to strip my son's body and expose it to the vulgar gaze, thus encouraging — even among foreigners — the report that he had been poisoned, served no good purpose, since this question is still undecided, and is indeed the object of your enquiry.

  "I would remind you, Conscript Fathers, that sensationalism is the enemy of justice; and that justice is the fruit of reason, not emotion.

  "I grieve for my son, Germanicus, and always shall, till death releases me in my turn. But I offer the accused every opportunity of producing evidence which may establish his innocence, or proof that Germanicus provoked and maltreated him, if that was the case. I go so far as to say that I hope he may be able to clear himself, since, for my part, the discovery that a Roman nobleman in whom I had put my trust should have proved so unworthy of my confidence would be yet another bitter draught to swallow.

  "I implore you not to regard charges as proofs merely because you are conscious of my personal grief.

  "Those whose relationship to Piso, or loyalty towards him have made them his defenders should help him without fear in his hour of need…"

  Such was my speech, and I do not regret it. It would have been dishonourable to have spoken in any other way. Yet night fell, and I knew that I had failed. My measured words were condemned on every side. Those who believed that Germanicus had been the victim of Piso and Plancina angrily complained that I had invited the Senate to acquit him. Their adherents, on the other hand, accused me of having abandoned them. Livia said, "I never thought a son of mine could have been such a coward: to desert your friends in such an attempt to appease your inveterate enemies. It's worse than a crime, it's a blunder, and the consequences will hound you to the grave." Yet I could not have spoken otherwise, though it was pointless to offer that argument to my mother.