Their quarrels, however, disturbed me. On one occasion at least, Drusus lost his temper -1 cannot recall the cause, if indeed I ever knew it – and struck Sejanus in the face. He complained – it was reported – that Sejanus was a threat to the security of the empire, citing as an example my decision that the Praetorian Guard, whose commander Sejanus still was, should be concentrated in a new camp on the north side of the city. I had approved the suggestion for two reasons. In the first place it relieved citizens from the burden of having the Guard billeted in their houses; second, it was an aid to discipline and efficiency. There was nothing sinister in the proposal in any way.
I was irritated by their quarrels because both were vital to the administration of the empire. As Augustus had frequently remarked, this is too great a task for a single man, and it is necessary that the Princeps should have helpers whom he can trust and who are willing to collaborate with each other. Drusus' jealousy of Sejanus impeded the smooth functioning of the machinery of state. There was no dispute as to policy. Indeed, as I pointed out to Drusus, Sejanus was barely concerned with the formulation of policy, and had never evinced a wish to be saddled with that responsibility. He was content with an executive role. 'My forte,' he fequently said to me, 'is carrying out your policy. I am here to help you by making things run smoothly. I am sorry that Drusus distrusts me, and I wish he could see that he has no occasion to do so.' Indeed, Sejanus was so disturbed by his consciousness of my son's ever-growing hostility, and his knowledge of how this affected me, that he more than once offered to resign all his offices and retire into private life. 'For the last thing I desire,' he assured me, 'is to be a cause of friction between you and Drusus, and for that reason it may be better that I remove myself from the scene, since I am convinced that the animosity which Drusus now entertains is ineradicable.'
Naturally I refused his generous self-sacrifice, and assured him I could not do without him.
'I rely utterly on Drusus in some matters, and on you, dear boy, in others,' I said. 'I have told Drusus this, and advised him not to listen to those who have poisoned his mind against you.' Sejanus wiped a tear from his eye.
'I am more moved by your confidence in me than I can say. But your trust emboldens me to add something which I would prefer not to feel obliged to tell you. All is not well between Drusus and Julia Livilla. That noble lady has confided her distress to my own dear wife, Apicata. She says that since the death of one of the twins, Drusus has turned his face against her. In particular she is distressed that he denies her his bedchamber, summoning in her stead the eunuch Lygdus. I would not mention something which is bound to pain you, if I did not hope that, fortified by the knowledge, you might find the means to set things right.'
I was touched by his innocent confidence in my abilities, but I did nothing. Bitter experience has taught me that neither prudence, a sense of decency, nor advantage, can overcome sexual repugnance or check the direction of lust. These were distractions, but the business of government was incessant. I strove to make the Senate true partners in the state again, and insisted that I was, at most, first among equals. When one obsequious fellow had the ill-taste to address me as 'My Lord and Master' I warned him never to insult me in such manner again. I referred all public business to the Senate, including much that Augustus had been accustomed to handle himself, and asked for the Senate's advice in every matter that concerned the national revenue, the allocation of monopolies, and the construction or repair of public buildings. I even consulted them about the recruitment and discharge of soldiers, the stationing of legions and auxiliaries, the extension of military commands, the selection of generals, and how to answer letters which I had received from foreign potentates; all matters which Augustus had reserved to himself. I encouraged argument in the Senate and assured its members that 'When a right-minded and true-hearted statesman has had as much sovereign power placed in his hands as you have put in mine, he should regard himself as the servant of the Senate; and often of the people as a whole, and even of private citizens too.'
These were not mere words, spoken for show. On the contrary; I was pleased when decisions were taken in defiance of my wishes, and abstained from complaint, even when I knew I was right and the majority wrong. Once for example I had insisted that city magistrates should be resident throughout their term of office, but the Senate permitted a praetor to travel to Africa, and even paid his expenses. Moreover, I allowed the senators to disregard my advice if they chose to do so. When, for example, Manius Aemilius Lepidus was proposed as Governor of Asia, Sextus Pompeius Tertius declared that he was quite unfit for the post, being, as he said, 'a lazy degenerate pauper'. I didn't altogether disagree with Pompey and let my feelings be known. Nevertheless I acquiesced in the Senate's decision to appoint Lepidus, believing that this display of independence was valuable in itself.
In other matters, however, I was sceptical of the Senate's zeal. One year, for instance, the aediles urged me to speak out against extravagance. There was a great cry in the Senate that laws against lavish expenditure were disregarded, and that consequently food prices were increasing daily. I was aware of this and deplored it. I tried to set an example of austerity, on one occasion serving up a half-side of boar at dinner, for instance, and remarking that it tasted just as good as the other side. But I knew that such laws, like those against sexual immorality, were unavailing. Frugality and chastity used to prevail because people had self-control. Law is incompetent in regulating moral behaviour. The remedy lies with the individual. If we are decent, then we behave well; if we are not, we shall always find some means of gratifying sordid and discreditable passions.
Nothing caused me more trouble in these years than the flood of accusations brought by informers. Even when the charges which they laid were well founded, the general consequence was despicable. Rome was in danger of becoming a city where every man spied on another, and no man dared trust his neighbour. I did what I could to check them. When two members of the equestrian order, Considius Aequus and Caelius Cursor, accused the praetor Magius Caecilianus of treason, I not only saw to it that the charges were dismissed but also had the accusers heavily fined. I hoped that if men realised that an accusation might involve them in financial loss, this would make the hope of profit from a successful charge somewhat less alluring. Alas, I underestimated men's cupidity and talent for self-deception. Accusations of one sort or another, many ridiculous, continued to flood in. One result of this was the demand from the Senate that candidates for public office, especially provincial governorships, should be more closely scrutinised, and that those rumoured to be of scandalous life should be excluded. One senator urged that the emperor alone should judge this matter. Superficially, this had something to commend it, but the proposal was fundamentally flawed. I was not prepared to accept such a burden, and argued instead that an emperor's knowledge cannot be all-embracing. 'If you adopt this scheme,' I said, 'then you will merely encourage slanders and scurrilous rumours, as intriguers try to influence my choice. The law is concerned only with acts which have been committed. What will be done is unknown. Many governors have belied either hopes or fears; responsibility stimulates some natures and blunts others. You cannot judge a man in advance. Besides, I ask you to reflect on this. Emperors have enough burdens already – and quite enough power. Strengthen the executive and you weaken the law. That is a fundamental principle of politics. When it is possible to act according to due legal process, then the exercise of official authority is a mistake.'
I believed that then; I believe it still. Yet the nature of man is such that the very people who clamour for action on the part of the government are among the first to deplore it – whenever that action appears to affect their own interests.
The longer I exercised the supreme authority, the harder it became for me to know the truth of any matter. I was learning the horrid isolation of office. No man addressed me without his own interest in mind. No man therefore spoke to me in open honesty. If anyone brought me a story which reflected ill on someone else, I had to ask myself what my informant hoped to gain, by what greed or resentment he was animated, and estimate this, before I could consider the objective truth of what he told me. Moreover, I learned that, even when not actuated by malice, men were inclined to say to me only what I wished to hear. It was on account of his freedom from these vices that I valued Sejanus, as Augustus had valued Agrippa. Sejanus, I believed, was not afraid to speak the truth, and since I was confident that he had no ambition to be more than he was, and was moreover imbued with feelings of affection for me, I trusted the advice he offered. Throughout this time I was disturbed by the hostility which I knew that Agrippina entertained for me. I did all that was possible, all within my power, to appease it. I took her sons under my personal protection. There were three: Nero, Drusus and Caligula. None was altogether satisfactory. Nero had been a delightful small boy, intelligent, quick-witted, and possessed of a lightness of spirit that seemed to owe nothing to his parents. Indeed, in looks he resembled his grandmother Julia – he had her suddenly joyous smile, and her way also of pouting his lips when displeased. Germanicus had been inclined to be severe with him and, after her husband's death, Agrippina tried to force her eldest son to assume a responsibility against which his nature rebelled. She would berate him furiously whenever he fell below the impossible standard she demanded; this was in contrast to her treatment of the other boys whom she spoiled outrageously. Perhaps in reaction, perhaps in response to the deepest impulses of his nature, Nero took refuge in
