curse.
It was a wild but well-composed imprecation, accusing Tiberius of miserliness, treachery, obscene filthmess and delight in torture, of murdering Germanicus and Postumus, and of a whole series of other crimes [most of which he had committed but none of which had ever been publicly mentioned before]; he prayed the Gods that all the immeasurable suffering and distress that Tiberius had caused others should weigh upon him with increasing strength, waking or sleeping, night and day, for as long as he lived, should overwhelm him in the hour of his death, and should commit him to everlasting torture in the day of infernal Judgment.
The senators interrupted the reading with exclamations of pretended horror at Drusus' treason, but these oh, oh's and groans covered their amazement that Tiberius should voluntarily provide such a revelation of his own wickedness.
Tiberius was very sorry for himself at the time [I heard afterwards from Caligula], tormented by insomnia and superstitious fears; and actually counted on the Senate's sympathy. He told Caligula with tears in his eyes that the killing of his relatives had been forced on him by their own ambition and by the policy that he had inherited from Augustus [he said Augustus, not Livia] of putting the tranquillity of the realm before private sentiment. Caligula, who had never shown the slightest signs of grief or anger at Tiberius' treatment of his mother or brothers, condoled with the old man; and then quickly began telling him of a new sort of vice that he had heard about recently from some Syrians. Such talk was the only way to cheer Tiberius up when he had attacks of remorse. Lepida, who had betrayed Drusus, did not long survive him. She was accused of adultery with a slave and not being able to deny the charge [for she was found in bed with him]
took her own life.
Caligula spent most of his time at Capri but occasionally went to Rome on Tiberius' behalf to keep an eye on Macro. Macro did all Sejanus' work now, and very efficiently, but was sensible enough to let the Senate know that he wanted no honours voted to him and that any senator who proposed any such would soon find himself on trial for his life on some charge of treason, incest or forgery. Tiberius had indicated Caligula as his successor for several reasons. The first was that Caligula's popularity as Germanicus' son kept the people on their best behaviour for [345' fear that any disturbance on their part would be punished by his death.
The next was that Caligula was an excellent servant and one of the few people wicked enough to make Tiberius feel, by comparison, a virtuous man. The third was that he did not believe that Caligula would, as a matter of fact, ever become Emperor. For Thrasyllus, whom he still trusted absolutely [since no event had ever happened contrary to his predictions], had told him, 'Caligula can no more become Emperor than he could gallop on horseback across yonder bay from
^Baias to Puteoli'. Thrasyllus also said, 'Ten years from now Tiberius Caesar will still be Emperor.' This was true, as it turned out, but it was another Tiberius Caesar.
Tiberius knew a great deal, but some things Thrasyllus kept from him. He knew, for instance, the fate of his grandson Gemellus, who was not really his grandson because Castor was not the father, but Sejanus. He said to Caligula one day: 'I am making you my principal heir.
I am making Gemellus my second heir in case you die before him, but this is only a formality. I know that you'll kill Gemellus; but then, others will kill you.'
He said this expecting to outlive them both. Then he added, quoting from some Greek tragedian or other: 'When I am dead, let Fire the Earth confound.'
But Tiberius was not dead yet. The informers were still busy and every year more and more people were executed.
There was hardly a senator left who had kept his seat since the days of Augustus. Macro had a far greater appetite for blood and far less compunction in shedding it than Sejanus. Sejanus was at any rate the son of a knight; Macro's father had been born a slave. Among the new victims was Plancina who, now that Livia had died, had nobody to protect her. She was accused once more of poisoning Germanicus; for she was quite wealthy. Tiberius had not allowed her to be prosecuted until Agrippina was dead, because if Agrippina had heard the news it would have pleased her greatly.
I was not sorry when I heard that Plancina's body had been thrown on the Stairs, though she had anticipated execution by suicide.
One day at dinner with Tiberius, Nerva asked Tiberius' pardon, explaining that he was not feeling hungry and wanted no food. Nerva had been in perfect health and spirits all this time and apparently quite contented with his sheltered life at Capri. Tiberius thought at first that Nerva had taken a purge the night before and was resting his stomach; but when he carried his fast through into the second and third day, Tiberius began to fear that he had decided to commit suicide by starvation. He sat down at Nerva's side and begged him to tell him why he was not eating. But all Nerva would do was to apologise again and say that he was not hungry. Tiberius thought that perhaps Nerva was annoyed with him for not having taken his advice sooner about averting the financial crisis. He asked, 'Would you eat with a better appetite if I repealed all laws limiting the interest on loans to a figure which you consider too low?'
Nerva said: 'No, it isn't that. I'm just not hungry.'
The next day Tiberius said to Nerva; 'I have written to the Senate.
Someone has told me that two or three men actually make a living by acting as professional informers against wrongdoers. It never occurred to me that by rewarding loyalty to the State I should encourage men to tempt their friends into crime and then betray them, but this seems to have happened on more than one instance.
I am telling the Senate immediately to execute any person who can be proved to have made a living by such infamous conduct. Perhaps now you'll take something?'
When Nerva thanked him and praised his decision but said that he had still no appetite at all, Tiberius became most depressed. 'You'll die if you don't eat, Nerva, and then what will I do? You know how much I value your friendship and your political advice. Please, please eat, I beseech you. If you were to die the world would think that it was my doing, or at least that you were starving yourself out of hatred for me. Oh, don't die, Nerva! You're my only real friend left.'
Nerva said: 'It's no use asking me to eat, Caesar. My stomach would refuse anything I gave it. And surely nobody could possibly say such ill-natured things as you suggest?
They know what a wise ruler and kind-hearted man you are and I am sure they have no reason for supposing me ungrateful, have they? If I must die, I must die, and that's all [347] there is to it. Death is the common fate of all and at least I shall have the satisfaction of not outliving you.'
Tiberius was not to be convinced, but soon Nerva was too weak to answer his questions: he died on the ninth day.
Thrasyllus died. His death was announced by a lizard. It was a very small lizard and ran across the stone table where Thrasyllus was at breakfast with Tiberius in the sun and straddled across his forefinger. [A.D. 36] Thrasyllus asked,
'You have come to summon me, brother? I expected you at this very hour.' Then turning to Tiberius he said: 'My life is at an end, Caesar, so farewell! I never told you a lie. You told me many. But beware when your lizard gives you a warning.'
He closed his eyes and a few moments later was dead.
Now Tiberius had made a pet of the most extraordinary animal ever seen in Rome. Giraffes excited great admiration when first seen, and so did the rhinoceros, but this, though not so large was far more fabulous. It came from an island beyond India called Java, and it was like a lizard the size of a small calf, with an ugly head and a back like a saw. When Tiberius first looked at it he said that he would now no longer be sceptical about the monsters said to have been slain by Hercules and Theseus. It was called the Wingless Dragon and Tiberius fed it himself every day with cockroaches and dead mice and such-like vermin. It had a disgusting smell, dirty habits and a vicious temper. The dragon and Tiberius understood each other perfectly. He thought that Thrasyllus meant that the dragon would bite him one day, so he put it in a cage with bars too small for it to poke its ugly head through.
Tiberius was now seventy-eight years old, and constant use of myrrh and similar aphrodisiacs had made him very feeble; but he dressed sprucely and tried to behave like a man not yet past middle age. He had grown tired of Capri, now that Nerva and Thrasyllus were gone, and early in March the next year determined to defy Fate and visit Rome. He went there by easy stages, [A.D. 37] his last stopping place being a villa on the Appian Road, within
