by Allan Massie
Yet at times it seems to me that his affection springs from something other than this gratitude; that he sees something good in me which I cannot recognise, and which, it may be, is far removed from what I understand by virtue.
One day, he said to me, 'Master, I think you are not always far from Christ.'
I would have whipped any other slave or freedman who had the impertinence to join my name to that of a Jewish agitator who, it seems, impersonated a god, like those deluded beings who, in the years of which I write, presented themselves as Nero escaped from his enemies and come to regain his throne. They were all imposters, madmen – for who else would wish to be Nero?
When earlier I read that last chapter of my memoirs (one which I certainly will not send to Tacitus) aloud to the boy, for he now has enough Latin to understand even elegant prose and no longer merely the dog-Latin of the camp and tavern, he said: 'You lived in a most horrible and wicked world.' I could not deny its horror. But I said: 'I write of the world as it is.' 'But not as it need be,' he said. 'As it has always been,' I replied.
Then I told him something, of which I may write later, of my experiences in the war in Judaea. For these Christians, among whom he numbers himself, are in origin a Jewish sect, and the cruelties, barbarities and lust for self-destruction which the Jews revealed in that war speak of no better world. I hoped to hurt him by my harsh honesty. Why?
Is it because I do not care to see anyone contented? Is it because it seems absurd that a boy such as Balthus, enslaved, mine, even now, to do with as I choose, should seem to have attained a serenity denied me, a serenity which this act of memory in which I am engaged continues to deny me. My woman has, of course, a brute contentment. For her the affairs of the house and of our children are sufficient. But I have never envied her as I envy, to my angry amazement, this boy.
One day he said to me: 'Master, I have heard you rail at the Fate which drove you from your position in the world, and landed you on this barren shore. But it seems to me, so wicked is the world in which you strove, that God has granted you a great blessing, by removing you from it, and giving you the chance, in this remote spot, to make your peace with yourself, and so redeem your soul. Master, I beg you, let it go. Let your resentments slip from you and be carried out to sea as a river bears all that is thrown in it – all foul things – away.'
His smile was very sweet, his eyes appealing. I could have flogged him, with pleasure.
XXIX
It is necessary now, Tacitus, to speak of what was happening in the East, even as we awaited Vitellius in Rome. Of course, what I now have to relate is of a different order from what has gone before, since I cannot serve as an eye-witness. You will have also other sources of information, which you may indeed prefer to mine. That's up to you. I would however assure you that what I have to say is authentic, in as much as any one-sided version of a story may be that. You will understand that my informant was Titus. You will therefore make allowances for the likelihood that he gave to me the version of events, and the analysis of the situation, which he would have liked to see accepted by historians such as yourself. But you will also understand that even so partisan a version has its value; and I have no doubt you will set it against other accounts which you will receive from your other witnesses and informants, some of which may well contradict what I have now to relate. So be it.
As you know, the Eastern Generals had meditated an assault on the Empire even while Otho was alive. Now, for a little, they hesitated. The delay irked Titus. He understood however that his father was held from action, not on account of fear or lack of ambition, but because it was his habit to weigh the advantages and disadvantages of any proposed course of action. Vespasian was sixty. Some men grow bolder, others more cautious, in old age. Vespasian had never been rash. It was natural to him to hesitate now. He had good reason for caution. In the first place, he knew the quality of the German legions, some of which he had himself commanded. It impressed him that, with all the strength of Otho's defensive position, Vitellius' men had had the resolution to overcome him. They had shown no disinclination to slay their fellow-citizens in a civil war. He could not be certain that his own troops would show a similar lack of scruple. Moreover, Vitellius now had the advantage of the defensive position which Otho had so rashly thrown away. Though Vespasian had no respect for Vitellius, he knew Caecina and Valens to be men of ability. He knew, too, that the fortune of war is never settled, its outcome never to be exactly calculated in advance. He had struggled through many difficulties to attain his present honourable position; he was loth to hazard all on the throw of the dice.
At first, he was uncertain whether the Eastern army would prefer to be commanded by him or by Mucianus. The prefect of Egypt, Julius Alexander, made no secret of his belief that Mucianus should be the one to be proclaimed Emperor. And Mucianus was more popular with the legions. They respected Vespasian as soldiers always respect a general who is careful of their lives in battle. But they loved Mucianus, as soldiers love a debauched commander who nevertheless is a favourite of the god of war. For them, Mucianus, with his little dogs and the painted boys of his entourage was a 'character' – a 'card', as they put it. They would have loved to make him Emperor, and to sing lewd songs in his triumph.
But Mucianus wasn't playing. He had two reasons for disclaiming the opportunity to wear the purple. First, he was lazy. He simply couldn't see himself burdened with the administration of Empire and, since he was both intelligent and dutiful enough to know that any Emperor who neglects the business of government is contemptible, he retained, despite his many vices, a fierce pride. Second, he was childless. It was said that he had never lain with a woman, and I believe this to be true, even though he was actually married once at least, perhaps twice. But he professed a dislike for the female shape and also, he said, for the smell of women. Since he had no heir, he gave not a hang for posterity.
That wasn't all. Mucianus adored Titus. I believe they were, briefly, lovers, though Titus once denied this when I taxed him with it. Of course, even if they had been so, they were no longer. By this time Titus was too old for Mucianus, who delighted in beardless boys. Yet he still adored Titus, and couldn't look on him without reviving the memory of his old desire. And he was charmed by Titus' bearing, looks, wit, and intelligence. Therefore he said to Vespasian, 'If I was chosen as Emperor, the first thing I would do would be to adopt your darling Titus as my heir. Since he's already yours, that seems to me to be peculiarly unnecessary, my dear. Titus will be Emperor, the gods willing and our arms favoured, whichever of us first wears the purple. So it makes sense that that should be you. His gifts should assure him of respect – that respect which an Emperor needs and which has been accorded to none since Tiberius. But his succession will be the more assured and uncontroversial if he follows his natural father rather than being the adopted heir of one whose manner of life will persuade many that he chose Titus because the boy was once the recipient of what they will term his shameful attentions.'
He laughed at the thought. But I have it on good authority that his manner of speaking made Vespasian for the first time wonder whether his son had in fact been his colleague's lover. Nevertheless he couldn't but be pleased that Mucianus was so fixed in his determination to make him Emperor.
And he immediately gave proof of this when he persuaded, or compelled, Julius Alexander to transfer his support to Vespasian. That was of the first importance for, as you will no doubt remind your readers, whoever holds Egypt holds Rome to ransom, by reason of his control of the grain trade.
So in any long war the control of Egypt secured Vespasian an advantage.
Yet, even now, though word had come that Vitellius was established on the Palatine, Vespasian hesitated to allow himself to be proclaimed as Emperor. To his mind, he could not move till he had assured himself that the legions stationed on the Danube favoured his cause.
Here he had a stroke of fortune. One of the last acts of Nero, or rather of his ministers, for Nero did n
ot care to trouble himself with such matters, had been to transfer the 3rd (Gallia) legion to the Danube frontier. This legion had formerly been commanded by Vespasian, had won honours then, and held him in high esteem. So its officers set themselves to persuade the commanders of the other Danube legions that only Vespasian could rescue the Empire from contempt and the curse of civil war.
However, Mucianus also advised Vespasian that they should send emissaries from their legions to Rome, to inform Vitellius that all the legions of the East had sworn allegiance to him.
'In this way,' he said, 'we shall gain the advantage of a few weeks. If I know Vitellius, he will believe what he wants to believe, slacken his vigilance, and devote himself to pleasure.' This indeed proved to be the case.
But the same emissaries also brought, secretly, letters from Vespasian to his brother Flavius Sabinus, urging him to waste no time in organising support for him in Rome, and they also brought a letter from Titus to me. Domitian again expressed his displeasure and disappointment that neither his father nor his brother had thought to write directly to him. Even then, I thought he had just cause for grievance, and so I did not tell him that Titus had written to me. I could not in any case have shown him the letter, partly because Titus was never willing to share information concerning their father's plans with Domitian, partly because the affectionate terms in which the letter was couched would have aroused Domitian's fierce jealousy.
Flavius Sabinus now insisted that Domitian should not remain in virtual hiding, but should show himself in public, frequent the Forum and the baths, and in general behave as befitted the son of a distinguished commander who was a loyal servant of the reigning Emperor. I am bound to say that Domitian obeyed reluctantly, and with an ill grace. He complained that he was being used, though not consulted, and said that he did not believe that his appearance in public would do anything to assure Vitellius of his father's loyalty. I daresay he was wise in this judgement. At any rate it was not long before an officer of Vitellius' personal bodyguard presented himself at the house in the Street of the Pomegranates, with an order requiring Domitian to report to police headquarters at noon every day. This was as alarming as it was insulting. Flavius Sabinus protested on his nephew's behalf, but, for some weeks, Domitian, blushing furiously and trembling with ill-concealed apprehension, did as he was bid.
Meanwhile, as Titus had forewarned me, events marched in the East. The prefect of Egypt, Julius Alexander, proclaimed Vespasian Emperor on the first day of July, and made the legions stationed there take an oath of allegiance. All had been well prepared, and there were no dissenters. Two days later the legions in Judaea followed suit, even though their commander Titus was still travelling back from Antioch where he had been consulting with Mucianus. They did this therefore spontaneously (or so it was later given out), hailing Vespasian as Caesar and Augustus. But I believe this acclamation was not unprompted.
Mucianus now declared himself in Antioch, as he and Titus had agreed he should. The soldiers were eager to swear their allegiance to Vespasian. But Mucianus also wished to attach the provincials to the cause, no doubt in the knowledge that they would have to be taxed more heavily to pay for the campaign, and thinking that it would be better if they could be persuaded to do so willingly. So he addressed an assembly of civic dignitaries and other men of note in the theatre. He was well suited to the task, for he spoke Greek with unusual elegance and, while the Greeks are accustomed to mock those who speak their language imperfectly, they are always flattered by a Roman who has taken the trouble to learn it thoroughly.
Moreover he told them what was not true: that Vitellius had announced his intention of transferring the German legions to Syria and the Syrian ones to Germany. This alarmed and displeased the soft provincials, for they supposed that the legions long based in Germany would have acquired savage, even brutal, manners from their sojourn in so barbarous a region, while on the other hand many of them were connected by friendship or relationship to the troops quartered among them. So they were pleased to think that Vespasian would soon be established in Rome in Vitellius' place.
Very soon, too, the various client-kings of the East came out in support of Vespasian, while Queen Berenice, naturally, on account of her affair with Titus, promoted his father's cause with zeal and furnished him with gold from her treasury. And so what one may call the conspiracy gathered pace.
I believe that Mucianus, throwing off his habitual lethargy, was the great organiser. It was a favourite saying of his that 'money is the sinews of war', and now he set himself to prove it. He knew that soldiers who are assured of their pay will fight more willingly than those who are not, and that contractors, whose bills are met 'on the nail', as they say, will produce, as required and in quantity, the supplies without which no war can be effectively fought. It was another saying of his that 'an army marches on its stomach', and he took care to see that the soldiers' stomachs were well filled. He even contributed substantial sums from his own resources, and it does not diminish his merit that these sums were available principally because he had so generously plundered the State himself. Others followed his example, though few of them had his means of reimbursing themselves from the public store.
The Danube legions rallied to the cause. Two which had favoured Otho (the 13th and the 7th) but which had been denied the opportunity to fight on his behalf – denied it because of the rashness with which his campaign had been launched without waiting for the reinforcements available to him – now came out for Vespasian. They were commanded by Antonius Primus.
You will remember him, Tacitus, as one who had the reputation of being a scoundrel, indeed a criminal: for he had been condemned in Nero's reign on the charge of having altered a will in his favour, and it was widely said that this was one of the few judgements delivered then which did not offend the sacred principles of justice. Whatever his faults of character, he was an asset to a party bent on seizing control of the State. He was brave in battle, quick and eloquent, admired by the soldiers. In peace he might be considered the worst of citizens; in war he was a valuable ally. Vespasian received him as such, reserving to a future date any doubts he might entertain concerning his character and conduct. Now Antonius Primus acted in concert with Cornelius Fuscus, a man I had long known, as a friend of Lucan. He held the post of Procurator of Dalmatia. Idle and frivolous in youth – to the point of resigning his senatorial rank – he had been a favourite of Galba, who had appointed him to his present post. Possessed of many friends, on account of his geniality and charm of manner, he was active in writing letters seeking support for his new master from many who held posts in more distant parts of the Empire. Letters were sent to Gaul, Britain and Spain; and, in consequence of his urging, many in these provinces declared for Vespasian and withdrew support from Vitellius.
I mention these details that you may understand how thorough, and – if I may use the word in this context – how professional were the preparations for war made by the Flavian party.
No doubt you will make use of this information as it suits you. I venture to say you will not find it contradicted from other sources. Vespasian's support ran deep; and that gave confidence to all his adherents.
XXX
I have gone ahead of myself, in recounting to Tacitus, the events in the East as I understood and remember them.
Meanwhile we still waited Vitellius' arrival. I again besought my mother to retire from the city; she again refused.
It was a balmy spring and glorious early summer. Roses tumbled over the palace walls and the scent of thyme, myrtle and oregano on the slopes of the Palatine carried memories of happy days in some rural retreat. One afternoon Domatilla walked with me in the gardens of Lucullus. We spoke of poetry, reciting favourite lines of verse. I would have made love to her, but she was unwilling. It was not the time, she said: 'Later, later.' I tried her with Horace: 'Pluck the day'. She smiled and turned her face away.
Flavius Sabinus was active, also anxious. He busied himself winning suppor
t for his brother Vespasian, then stood aghast at the dangers he ran. I thought his efforts vain. Things would take their course, no matter what he did. The Empire would not be decided here in the city, but somewhere to the north, perhaps even again in the vicinity of Cremona, where Otho's nerve had crumbled. So we waited.
Domitian's nerves were bad. He had contracted a skin rash, which itched intolerably. The side of his face and his forearms were scraped raw. He complained, tediously, of his father's neglect. Nothing could persuade him that his life was not in danger. Vitellius knows nothing yet of your father's preparations,' I said. 'How can you be so sure?' 'If he had heard he would be already in Rome, and himself occupied in drawing up plans for the war. But we hear of nothing but the nightly parties he gives, the theatre productions he demands, and his drinking bouts. In some men this last report might suggest an uneasy spirit, but, with Vitellius, it is merely habit, I am told.'
But nothing could stay Domitian's alarm. He scratched himself till the blood stood out on his arm, frowned, turned away, and threw himself face down on a couch.
Actually some of the stories which reached us from Vitellius' camp were so bizarre that even I could not credit them. I say, 'even f, for already in my youth I was persuaded that no extravagance was too absurd to be indulged in. You must remember that I was reared with an intimate knowledge of how things were done in the imperial household, fed with stories of the absurdities of Claudius, and the near-madness of Nero.
Vitellius was said, for instance, to be so greedy that he had been seen, while a sacrifice was in progress, snatching lumps of meat sizzling from the altar, and devouring them, to the disgust and consternation of the priests.
