Allan Massie: Tiberius

The many kindnesses of your father Augustus, and the still more numerous marks of favour and friendship I have received at your hand, have accustomed me to bring my hopes and desires to the imperial ear as readily as to the gods. I have never asked for anything for myself, neither money nor great office. I would prefer, like any other soldier, to work for the emperor's safety, which I am ready to secure with my own life. Yet I have now, to my astonishment, won the greatest of privileges — to be thought worthy by a certain great lady of alliance in marriage with your family. I speak of Julia Livilla, the widow of your lamented son. The consciousness of what Rome has lost by his untimely death drew us together: we discovered a common sympathy and comforted each other in our grief. Her sentiments towards me have encouraged me to hope for what I would not otherwise have dreamed of as being within the realms of possibility. Besides, she has reminded me that Augustus himself, when choosing a husband for his daughter, did not regard men of my equestrian order as beneath consideration. Therefore, I humbly request you to bear in mind, if you should now be thinking of a husband for Julia Livilla, your devoted friend who would gain nothing but prestige from the relationship. I ask nothing more. I am content with the duties I perform; satisfied — for my children's sake — if my family is safeguarded against the unfounded spite and malevolence of Agrippina. For myself, to live out my life under so great an emperor represents the summit of my ambitions…

The request surprised me. On reflection however it seemed natural that Julia Livilla, deprived by cruel fate of her husband, should have turned for consolation to the only man of comparable quality with whom she was acquainted, more especially since Sejanus' own marriage to Apicata had failed, to his evident distress. Yet there were issues other than personal happiness to be considered. I therefore replied in cautious and non-committal manner.

My dear Sejanus,

There is no one, as you know, for whom I feel more affection, and in whom I repose greater trust, than yourself. I have proved this again and again. If we were all private persons, then I would not hesitate.

However, while such men's decisions may be based on their own interests and affections, rulers are situated differently, since in important matters they need to consult public opinion. So 1 can't fall back on an easy answer and merely say that Julia Livilla can decide for herself whether she wants to marry again or not. (And of course if she does, she could find no one more worthy as a person than yourself.) I shan't even say that she has a noble mother, Antonia, who is more properly her intimate adviser than I am myself. No, I shall be more frank with you, as you deserve.

First then, Agrippina's ill-feelings (to use a mild term) will be greatly intensified if Julia Livilla, who is — I don't need to remind you — her sister-in-law, should be joined with you in marriage. This would virtually split the imperial family in two. (As you know, I detest the expression "the imperial family", as being incompatible with our Republican inheritance, but nevertheless facts are facts, and this is one, however disagreeable.) Even now, the women's rivalry can't be repressed, and my grandsons are torn between them. What would be the consequences if the proposed marriage made the feud worse?

Second, you are mistaken, dear boy, if you think that Julia Livilla, after being married to Gaius Caesar and then to my beloved Drusus, would be content to grow old as the wife of a mere knight — or that you could retain that status. Even if I allowed it, do you think it would be tolerated by those who have seen her brother and father, and our ancestors, holding the great offices of state? Your elevation would be necessary. You say you do not want to rise above your present rank. I honour that sentiment, though it is the general opinion that you have long ago eclipsed all other knights. You are even now an object of envy and, in envying you, people criticise me. I am already criticised for the favours I have granted you. Don't you see that the envy and criticism would be intensified by this marriage?

You remark quite correctly that Augustus considered marrying his daughter to a knight. But he foresaw that any man distinguished by such an alliance would be enormously elevated, and so those he had in mind were men like Gaius Proculeius, a close friend of his, who took no part in public affairs. The two positions are not comparable. Moreover, in the end you must remember, the sons-in-law whom he actually chose were, first, Marcus Agrippa, and then myself.

I have spoken openly as your friend. Ultimately I shall not oppose any decision that you and Julia Livilla come to. Of certain projects of my own, and additional ties by which I plan to link you to me, I shall not speak now. I shall only say this: your own personal merits, and my consciousness of your profound devotion to my interests and to my person, convince me that no elevation would be too high. When the time is ripe I shall speak frankly to the Senate…

Sejanus declared himself deeply touched by my letter. He acknowledged the justice of my observations and promised to consider them carefully.

"Nothing," he said, "must be done to give any further cause for the vile and unjustified criticisms directed at you, or that will encourage Agrippina in her seditious manoeuvrings."

But I knew from the look in his eye that he had not abandoned his hopes. That was natural, for the prospect of marriage to my son's widow was alluring. Moreover, Julia Livilla herself was eager for the match; and she had no fear of antagonising Agrippina further. Indeed she welcomed the prospect.

The same autumn saw two disturbing trials which contributed to the resolution I was secretly forming.

A case was brought against a senator, Votienus Montanus, who was accused of slandering me and the constitution Rome had inherited from Augustus. With incredible folly, he called a common soldier, by name Aemilius, as one of his witnesses. This man, who had been dishonourably discharged from the service some time previously, had apparently been deprived of his wits by a sense of grievance. He poured out a stream of abusive filth, mostly directed against me. I can scarcely, even now, bring myself to list the slanders. The least was habitual immorality. I was accused also of having been an accessory to the murder of Germanicus — a murder which was, of course, wholly imaginary and which had been disproved in poor Piso's trial. Impiety towards the gods and the memory of Augustus, participation in orgies and magic rites involving the prostitution of free-born virgins and even the ritual sacrifice of servile children — such monstrosities stood out from the stream of filth with which my ears were assailed. Perhaps the demented man had been encouraged to speak like this — though he probably needed little encouragement — in the hope that the court would be distracted from consideration of the crimes with which Votienus himself was charged.

The second case was even more serious and distressing. It was first brought to my notice by Sejanus. Compelled as any ruler must be in our unhappy times, to operate a system of surveillance, I had nevertheless found this requirement so distasteful that, unlike Augustus, who kept a close eye on such matters himself, I had delegated full responsibility to Sejanus, as the only man in whose honour and scrupulosity I could trust. One morning he approached me frowning, his face a study in gloom and perturbation.

"Something extremely unpleasant has come to light," he said. "It concerns a noble lady, Claudia Pulchra."

Then he recounted how this lady, a cousin of mine and also of Agrippina's, whose close friend she also was, had made her house on the Aventine a hive of sedition. The first rumours had been brought to Sejanus by Gnaeus Domitius Afer, a recent praetor, whom Claudia had attempted to seduce.