absurd affectations of manner, which, as he approached what should have been manhood, resolved itself into a blatant and degraded effeminacy: he painted his lips and eyelids, rouged his cheeks, daubed himself with Syrian scent, and was said to wear silk undergarments. At the baths, as a boy of fourteen or fifteen, he would ogle senators, and invite them into his cubicle. Naturally enough many were sufficiently allured by this pretty and dissolute child to risk immoral association with a member of the imperial family. To avoid embarrassment, I asked Drusus to reprove him; Nero then attempted to seduce his uncle. At the age of seventeen he fell madly in love with an actor, who was so notorious a pederast that he had once been pelted with dung in the street. I put a stop to that by sending the comedian into exile. But I continued to receive reports that made it quite clear that Nero was incorrigible.
All the same I persevered. I was, I admit, susceptible myself to the boy's undoubted charm. My heart softened when I saw in his gestures the Julia who had entranced me. There was even, I felt, a certain gallantry in his debauched behaviour; it was a response to an innate misery. He was never malicious, and in the right mood his wit flashed radiantly forth. Nevertheless he presented a problem. When he appeared in the imperial box at the games, a section of the crowd, which did not share the sentimental attachment to Germanicus' family which was common, would be sure to yell insults at him such as 'fairy prince', 'ganymede' and 'pansy'. On account of the rouge, you couldn't tell whether he blushed to hear himself so mocked. My mother, who detested him, refused to attend the games in his company. My only pleasure was to see Agrippina bite her lip to restrain her fury.
His brother Drusus loathed him also. Drusus was a prig, like his father Germanicus, and with none of the charm which Nero had inherited from Julia, and perhaps also from his great-grandfather Mark Antony. Drusus was mean, jealous and scheming. None of this showed in his looks – in this respect, he took after his grandfather Agrippa. Drusus was a consummate hypocrite, so accomplished that he deceived me for years. He was also intensely ambitious, and realising that the path to power lay through my favour, set himself to win my regard. This disturbed Agrippina, and I had reports of terrible quarrels between them. Eventually, however, he persuaded her that he was insincere in the court he paid me. When she warned him not to trust me, he looked her in the eye, and said, 'Believe me, mother, I could never trust a man responsible for the murder of my father and for insults such as those he has directed against you.' Yet the very same day, he would approach me with protestations of devotion and, more to the point, with requests for advice about affairs of state and the art of war, for, he said, 'None knows better than I the value of your experience as Rome's greatest general, and hence I am eager to sit at your feet.' Drusus was always quick to inform me of Nero's latest extravagances of behaviour, always, of course, shaking his head with pretended sorrow. 'I really don't understand how my brother can allow creatures like X or Y to take such liberties with him. I'm afraid he must be deranged.' It was fortunate that Sejanus supplied me with this information which led me to discern Drusus' true and untrustworthy character.
As for the youngest of the boys, Gaius Caligula, he was simply abhorrent. I have never myself liked gladiator shows, and would willingly ban them if the people would accept such a deprivation of pleasure, but even men who delighted in them were disgusted by the relish with which Caligula would view cruelty and death, even as a child. To see a boy of ten lick his lips at the sight of blood and squirm as if experiencing an orgasm in his enjoyment of the pain of unfortunate men was disgusting.
'A fine family,' I often thought. 'I thank the gods that Drusus and his son stand between them and power.'
6
And then Drusus fell ill. He complained of lassitude and frequent bouts of nausea. His limbs ached and felt heavy. The merest motion was torture to him. I brought doctors hastening from Corinth and Alexandria to supplement the skills already resident in Rome. It was useless. Daily I watched my son weaken; daily I saw his appetite for life ebb away. In these circumstances even Sejanus was no comfort to me. Though I trusted him absolutely, I could not help reflecting that he would not mourn my son's death. I could not tolerate the company of Drusus' wife, Julia Livilla, for her indifference to her husband's condition was all too obvious. The eunuch Lygdus tended his master with sedulous care; one morning I found him in floods of bitter tears because Drusus had had a bad night, and I was not so cynical as to suppose that he was weeping merely because he feared to lose a master who loved him. My mother brought me no comfort either; old age had transported her to a realm where present griefs meant little. She irritated me by talking all the time about the joy which Agrippina would feel at Drusus' death. Curiously, my only solace came from young Nero Caesar. Though he was unable to cast aside his effeminate affectations, he nevertheless possessed an imaginative sympathy which let him understand my misery. Others reproached me – behind my back, but not without my knowledge – because I continued to attend the Senate throughout the long and wretched course of my son's illness; Nero, meeting me as I returned one morning from the Curia, embraced me with a spontaneous tenderness, and said: 'At the moment you must feel that work and responsibility alone give your life any meaning.' Then he stroked my cheek saying, 'But I wish you could weep for Drusus, for your own sake.' Strangely, I was irritated neither by his tears nor by the scent of bergamot with which he had bedewed himself. I could find no words to thank him. I embraced the boy, holding him close a long minute, drawing strength and comfort from his youth and sympathy.
Drusus died. When I entered the Senate the next day, the consuls sat on the ordinary benches as a sign of mourning. I thanked them, but reminded them of their dignity and rank, and requested that they resumed their proper station. Many senators wept, some with the aid of onions applied surreptitiously to their eyes. I raised my hand in a gesture to silence the display of grief.
'I know,' I said, 'that some will criticise me for appearing here while my son's body awaits burial, and my affliction is fresh. Many mourners can scarcely endure even the condolence of their families, and prefer to shut themselves away from the light of day. I understand such conduct and would never censure it. For me however seclusion is the worst temptation, and so I resist it, seeking a sterner solace. The arms in which I have taken refuge are those of the state.' I paused and then spoke of my family.
'My son's death is but the latest affliction in my mother's long and glorious life,' I said. 'Drusus was her grandson, and married to her grand-daughter, my brother's child Julia Livilla. Judge therefore how the Augusta grieves. Her only surviving male descendant apart from myself is my little grandson Tiberius Gemellus. After sixty years and more in the service of the Republic my mother, the Augusta, sees only this child as the heir of her labours, though I must not forget that he has, of course, an elder sister Livia Julia.
'As for me, my son's death, following so soon on that of his adopted brother, our dear Germanicus, is a blow from which I do not now feel I shall ever recover. At such moments it is of little comfort to recall the nobility and virtue of the dead, for, to tell you the truth, Conscript Fathers, such reflections only sharpen the pain, by reminding us of what we have been deprived. So now, I must tell you, that apart from little Tiberius Gemellus, only the sons of Germanicus remain to comfort my declining years…'
Then I had them called before the Senate, and the three stood there: Nero shy, ill at ease, but with a dignity which I had never previously known him to assume; Drusus proud, even arrogant, yet sullen, as if he suspected my intentions and would charge me with insincerity; and Gaius Caligula squinting horribly and unable to stop fidgeting…
'When these boys lost their father,' I said, 'I entrusted them to their uncle Drusus, begging him – though he had children of his own – to treat them as though they were his own seed, and, for posterity's sake, to fashion them in his image. Now Drusus has gone. So my plea is directed to you. The gods and our country are my witnesses.
'Senators, on my behalf as well as your own, adopt and guide these youths, whose birth is so glorious – these great-grandsons of Augustus. Nero, Drusus and Gaius' – I continued, taking each in turn by the hand, and then embracing each – 'these senators will take the place of your parents. For in the station to which you are born, the good and bad in you is of national concern…'
I quote this speech in full, because, in the light of what later happened, I would wish that posterity should fully understand the sincerity of my benevolence towards the sons of Germanicus. If things turned out otherwise subsequently, it was the gods that willed it, not I. My mother grew ever more insupportable in her old age. No sooner had I finished addressing the Senate than I received a summons from her. I found her dressed in mourning, but with the light of battle in her eye. She at once reproached me for the speech which had been fully reported to her.
