Chapter V
A CROWD of magistrates, proconsuls, priests, Senators, and ambassadors were in the polished-marble council chamber in a sumptuous palace on the Palatine Hill. Seated on a curule chair on a raised platform was a man sixty-two years old. His face was handsome, but disfigured with pimples and plasters. His eyes were large and, like those of a bat, could see in the dark. His lips were thick, puffy, and usually moist and shiny. His stern forehead was so furrowed by a frown that his eyebrows touched. His long hair fell upon and greased his toga. His figure was large and robust, his bearing erect; he held his head stiff and upright. Around his neck, over his imperial tunic, he wore a golden chain studded with jewels. As he sat there he was approached, from time to time, by different men who respectfully bowed and proffered words of salutation. From his demeanor and the manner of those who addressed him it might be inferred that he had no higher rank than that of a consul. Yet the man seated there was feared and hated by every one. He was the most powerful man inthe Roman Empire. He was the Emperor, Tiberius!
His early life had been full of disappointment. As step-son to the Divine Augustus he always considered himself worthy of great honors. His aspiring hopes, however, were continually shattered. Augustus, marrying his daughter Julia to his nephew Marcellus, had first adopted Marcellus as his heir. When that unfortunate youth died, Augustus married Julia to Agrippa, and then adopted Julia’s second husband as his heir. Agrippa dying and leaving five children, Augustus then adopted as heirs two older sons of Agrippa. Tiberius was then compelled to divorce his wife Vipsania, and to marry the twice-widowed Julia.
While married to Julia he became so gloomy, sullen, and disappointed that, hating the sight of relations and friends thus forced upon him, he voluntarily exiled himself from Rome and lived alone at Rhodes. At that time he was thirty-seven years old. His actions were so childish that he sulked, and hid himself even from friends who passed through Rhodes on their way to the East. To give an appearance of honorable distinction to the exile, Livia, his mother, succeeded in obtaining the title of lieutenant for him. However, such a lewd and vicious life did he lead at Rhodes that the Rhodians insulted him and hurled down his statues.
But Livia worked strenuously for her son. Years before, the death of Marcellus had been accomplished. Now, while her son corrupted the youth of Rhodes, Caius and Lucius were both mysteriously murdered. Tiberius and “Little Agrippa,” as he is sometimes called, the third and last son of Agrippa and Julia, were then conjointly adopted by Augustus. But the young Agrippa was cunningly surrounded by such wicked companions that he became demented and was exiled to an island called Planasia. Thus Tiberius finally became the last reluctant choice of the old emperor.
During the mild reign of Augustus the malevolence of Tiberius was restrained. The sullenness of the heir was hidden behind the benign and resplendent deeds of the benefactor. But after the death of Augustus the accumulated evil that had been dammed up for so many years burst forth with terrific violence. The deaths of Marcellus, Caius, and Lucius were secretly accomplished. Now the poor Agrippa was openly murdered. The hand of outrage was then stayed, but for only a short time. The good and loyal Germanicus, the beloved of the Roman people, was the next victim. He was poisoned in Syria. But this only whetted the appetite for crime and intensified the thirst for blood. It seemed as if the infernal region had at last found a mediumthrough which to pour forth its Stygian essences; for when Tiberius sat on the throne the Roman people became submerged in intemperance, felony, and licentiousness, confiscations, pillage, and robbery, envy, hatred, and murder.
Although he behaved deferentially to the Senate, prefixing his remarks when he addressed them with “By your leave,” “With your permission,” etc., yet that servile body dared not assert its rights, but cringingly obeyed his every request. He detested vice in others, but he himself was saturated with abominations. He also detested men pre-eminent in virtue, because of the unfavorable light in which they placed him. He financially helped some Senators, but others he mercilessly robbed and murdered. Few men were trusted by him. He was taciturn, and rarely smiled an honest smile. He was suspicious of every one. He hated flattery. Gladiatorial combats he prohibited; yet he watched men tortured to death with no nice compunction at seeing blood thus spilt. His soul was filled with evil which was reflected in all his acts. He was gloomy, revengeful, and unforgiving. He was easy to anger. He never forgot an injury. His acts of tyranny were covered by the cloak of hypocrisy. He was a heavy drinker, a profligate, an insatiable, bloody tyrant.
In the council chamber of the palace the emperorhad just received a foreign delegation. Orientals clad in silken robes, embroidered with gold and silver, mingled with the high Roman officials, clad in their soft white togas bordered with purple. Both costumes were imposing in their different styles,—the one luxuriously royal, the other regal in its proud simplicity. Among the Romans present were the young sons of Agrippina,—Nero and Drusus. These young princes, grandsons of the Divine Augustus, were loved for their manly virtues and for the veneration in which their murdered father, Germanicus, was held by the Roman people. The simple and childlike brother of Livilla, Claudius, walked among the guests, smiling at the nods of recognition, as if they were great favors bestowed upon him. Drusus, the son of Tiberius, was present. Although he was angered at the wrong done him by his father in the Senate that day, yet he forced a respectful tone when he addressed him.
“Is not the audience at an end, O father?” he asked.
“Ay, my son, ’tis over; but I would see Sejanus before the delegation leaves.”
Drusus slightly frowned when the name of Sejanus was pronounced. But smothering his resentment, he said: “Thy presence, O father, is expected on the Esquiline this night. Failus not. Many days have passed since thou hast honored my home.”
“Gladly will I be there, O my son,” said Tiberius.
“Let nothing hinder thee,” persisted Drusus.
“I will be there. But why art thou so anxious?”
“I have much to tell thee,” replied the wronged son.
“Thou hast complaints to make?”
“Nay, O father. We shall drink the cup of peace.”
“I have told thee I will be there. But what makes Claudius so happy to-day, O my son?”
“He is promised some amphorae from Velletri. He is partial to the wine of that district,” replied Drusus, with a mechanical smile.
“Happy Claudius!” said Tiberius, working his fingers as he talked and giving to all his words a nasal twang. “Happy Claudius, who lives only for his stomach!”
An attendant here announced to Tiberius that Livia was in the vestibule and would enter.
“Tell my mother, Livia,” said Tiberius, the frown on his forehead deepening, “that I will not see her to-day.”
But the order was futile. Livia had already walked into the council chamber and was directing her way towards the tribunal on which Tiberiuswas seated. The people had respectfully divided, leaving a passage for her. The attendant approached her and gave her the reply of Tiberius. Livia received the rebuke, but continued on her way.
The mother of Tiberius was eighty years old. She was a remarkable woman. Her face, although wrinkled, was yet full of healthy color; her eyes were bright and piercing; her hair was white. She walked upright, her bearing full of dignity.
Tiberius hastily rose and went to meet her. The swelling veins on his forehead and the red color of his face showed his anger, yet he dared not use violent words before such a gathering. Watching the quiet dignity of the aged mother and the smothered anger of the enraged son, the guests remained spellbound. Controlling his anger, Tiberius requested her to meet him on the morrow. The wronged mother, however, braved his displeasure and demanded an immediate audience. They retired into an adjoining room. Livia was the first to speak.
“In the Senate to-day thou didst insult me, O Tiberius!” she slowly said, in an injured tone.
“’Twas not meant as an insult, O mother,” he snarled.
“Then see that thy words are expunged from the records of the Senate,” she majestically commanded.“Know, O son, that before a body of august men an insult to a Roman matron, ay, to thy mother, rebounds with redoubled force upon thee. An official position for a friend was my small request. But thou, childish and bitter as thou art, didst say unto the Senate that the position had been extorted from thee by me.”
“Ay, ’tis true. I like not thy friend,” whined the emperor.
“Say, rather, thou likest not honesty!” firmly declared the aged mother.
“Say rather, O mother, that I have courage to refuse to be responsible for thy friends,” he jeered.
“Nay. The brothels and wine-shops are the schools from which men are chosen to office in these degenerate days,” said Livia, in a tone of disgust.
“The brothels and wine-shops have truly educated great men,” he snarled. “But why didst thou choose this hour to pour out thy complaints?”
“I wish that thou shouldst withdraw thy words of to-day at the meeting of the Senate on the morrow,” she commanded. “I go not to the house of Drusus this night.”
“That I will not do,” he emphatically declared.
“Then let the people and history judge of thy worthlessness and thy puerile nature,” she loudlyexclaimed. “But tell me, O son of evil, why wilt thou not oblige me?”
“Already have I told thee. I like not thy friend.”
“He was trusted by thy divine step-father.”
“Ay, my mother. But nowIconduct the affairs of the empire.”
“Let me but speak to the people, let me but unfold to them thy nature, and thy power will crumble like a child’s sand-hill before the rising tide of the ocean,” threatened the mother.
“Ah! Once did I fear thee, but never more,” drawled Tiberius. “Once I wished thy help, but now thy opinions in affairs of state are no longer sought. Hereaftermywishes shall be observed.”
“Thou mockest me, thou tauntest me, O Tiberius!” she cried. “I care not for the loss of power. But public insult is something I cannot and will not endure. Never did the Divine Augustus so treat me, and thou shalt not. Ingrate that thou art! no grain of respect or gratitude lives in thy bitter nature. But am I, the wife and the mother of an emperor, to be buffeted about by a thing that associates with the rabble of the street? Am I—”
“Hold, mother!” interrupted Tiberius. “I am thy son. Inheritance has left some marks upon me.”
“Ah! Inheritance is the cloak behind which cowards hide,” she said with bitter emphasis.
“’Twas not I, O mother, who counselled the death of Agrippa,” he pettishly argued.
“’Twas thou who gavest the order,” she replied in a taunting tone. “Did Germanicus, the pure, unstained son of Antonia, fall by any wish of mine? His crime was the love he inspired in the hearts of the people. A comparison between his purity and thy uncleanness was more than thou couldst endure. O Tiberius, corruption crowns thy brow! The pimples on thy face are words that all can read. Goodness flees before thee. Joy is strangled in thy presence. Love—”
“Hold!” cried Tiberius, bursting with anger. “Defy me not, O Livia! Thou wearest the honored crown of age, but before abusive words respect flees.”
“Thy respect for me, cruel son, died when I placed thee where thou art!”
“Of a truth, O mother Livia, my respect for thee was not increased when I heard, three days ago, of thy actions the night before.”
“O spiteful son! O villanous man! Whilst thou didst sleep off the effects of wine, I ran into the Forum and exhorted the men to extinguish the flames in the house of the Vestal Virgins.”
“Ay, ’tis not a creditable deed forthe wifeand the mother of an emperorto run through the streets crying for help. I care not if it were for the cause of extinguishing flames in the Vestals’ house. ’Tis not becoming thy sex. But thou art forever interfering in affairs that do not belong to thee. Ah, it tires me,” said Tiberius, with bitter disgust.
“Such words to me!—to one who fostered thee, and labored so diligently for thy welfare!” said Livia, astounded at the air he was assuming. “Insolence, shameless effrontery, are, then, the reward for my tireless struggles for thee. But what more should I expect from a hateful child? I gave birth to a thing that has become a monstrosity,—a vile creature, void of all human instinct,—a brazen-faced serpent that now stings me. Ah, ingrate that thou art! Well did the Divine Augustus understand thy malignant disposition. Here, here, are the letters which he wrote and which I have cherished. Read what he says of thee. He calls thee ‘a canker feeding on his happiness,’ ‘a thorn in his flesh.’ He says, ‘Thy looks are bitter, thy words gall.’ He says, ‘Thy exile at Rhodes is a relief from thy revolting and disgusting manners.’ He also says, ‘Thy friends are the dregs of the slums, thy filth a stain on his household.’ Read, O wicked Tiberius, what he says of thee, and then ponder over thine infernal life.”
Her deliberate and commanding manner and the reproachful and sarcastic tone in which she delivered the last few lines of invective so stung Tiberius that he ground his teeth in rage. She was magnificent in her self-control. He recoiled at her words, which, being sharpened by truth, pierced his very soul. He took up the letters which she had thrown near his feet, and began to destroy them, one by one. His face was purple, and the veins on his forehead were swollen to an abnormal size. Quelling the blasphemy that mounted to his lips, and drawling his words with a repulsive twang, he said: “Thou revilest me with letters written by a jealous man? Thou—”
“Have a care, O Tiberius!” she interrupted. “Revile not the gods. The Romans will not permit the name of the Divine Augustus to be vilified by thee.Iwill not permit thee!”
“Then leave me! I cannot listen to thee and remain calm. I may strike thee. ’Tis the first time thou hast dared to thus defy me. ’Twill be the last. Leave me, O Livia!”
“I will leave thee,” said Livia, magnificent in the control of her temper and actions; “but before I depart I will speak some final words.” Her voice was clear and loud as she added: “Woe unto thee, O Tiberius! No astrologer is required to read thy future. ’Tis written on thy evil face.The furrows upon thy brow will deepen. Thy night-seeing, vampire-like eyes will delight in the sight of blood. In thy nostrils will be the stench of the putrefying corpses of thy murdered victims. Thy mouth will be red-stained like that of the Cyclops, not by wine, but by the blood of innocent wretches. ’Twill no longer be the face of a human being, ’twill be the sodden despotic face of a monster.”
“Have done, O Livia! have done!” cried Tiberius.
“I will speak. Woe unto thee, Tiberius! Thy life will be more unhappy, if that were possible. Rome, that was happy under the Divine Augustus, will rise and execrate thee. Sejanus, who helps thee in thy infernal plans, carries a scorpion sting behind his smooth and polished servility. Thou shalt dwell in miserable solitude,—in a solitude that shall resound with the yells of the despairing, with the shrieks of the tortured, and with the groans of the dying. Hate has become incarnate in thee. Murder, dripping with blood, will be thy spouse.”
“By the eternal gods, cease this tirade! By Hercules—” he cried, as if to strike her.
“Ay, strike me! Strike thine old mother, who has lived too long! Oh that I should have lived to see this unhappy day! But woe unto thee, Tiberius! Thy relations all suffer under the pall ofthy displeasure. Thy mother is insulted. Thy son is denied his just rights. Thy adopted daughter, Agrippina, and her children tremble in fear of thee. The pious Antonia’s eyes are red with weeping for her son Germanicus. Only the insanity of Claudius protects him against thy hate. The wretched Roman people are becoming enslaved by thy dastardly system of spies. Are thy kinsmen all wrong? Are the people also wrong? Art thou, and thou only, the one who is right? Woe unto thee, O infamous son! I have finished. Would that my words should always ring in thine ears! Woe unto thee; I repeat it,—woe unto thee!”
Saying these words, Livia raised her arms to heaven as if she were invoking a curse. She walked slowly to the door and entered the council chamber. Her face was flushed, and her lips slightly trembled, but her step was firm. As she smiled and bowed to those whom she recognized among the crowd, her bearing was full of composure, dignity, and majesty.
Instead of becoming angry at the last words of Livia, Tiberius sneered and smiled sarcastically. Not wishing to appear before the guests, he sent word that the audience was at an end.
When Sejanus arrived at the palace, he was immediately received.
“Hail to thee, O Tiberius!” said the minister, as he entered the room.
“Thank the gods, thou hast at last appeared, O faithful minister!” said Tiberius, giving a deep sigh of relief.