Tiberius the Tyrant

To tell the story of the reign of Tiberius by minutely tracking Tacitus through his manifold inconsistencies and clever insinuations, though entertaining to the investigator, would prove wearisome to the reader; but a somewhat careful examination of the Emperor’s methods of Government during the first year of his administration will spare us lengthy explanations in dealing with subsequent events.

Tacitus and Suetonius alike seem to have collected their information from three chief sources, private memoirs, popular rumours, in which are to be included pasquinades and the topical songs of actors, and the official record of the transactions of the Senate. The first two sources of information are obviously not of a trustworthy character; memoirs are not to be relied on even in these days of rapid transmission of news and wide publicity. An historian who should essay to compile the biography of a public man of today, even from the daily and weekly journals which are filled with personal gossip about those upon whom the attention of the public is fixed, would find such a mass of contradictions to deal with that he would abandon his task in despair; and yet the matter thus afforded to his inspection is day by day subject to correction. Memoirs written by an irresponsible person in his private study are even more likely to contain perversions of fact, to omit, to exaggerate, to represent exclusively the personal bias of the writer.

It is hardly necessary to add that loose anecdotes and the buffooneries of actors do not constitute evidence; it is, indeed, difficult to understand how Suetonius, a presumably grave schoolmaster, could quote snatches of popular songs as serious history, and repeat the filthy gossip of the Roman streets.

But the evidence of public documents such as the record of the transactions of the Senate is unimpeachable; and this evidence, whenever Tacitus gives it us, is invariably such as to compel us to believe that Tiberius was a wise and moderate ruler.

So overwhelming is this evidence, that the very creators of the monstrous figure, which passes for that of Tiberius, had serious misgivings; whenever they examined the public records, they found the lustful, rapacious, bloodthirsty tyrant of their imaginations acting on the strictest lines of constitutional government. How were they to reconcile their creation with acknowledged and indeed indisputable facts? It seemed to them that there was a simple way out of the difficulty, namely, to ascribe to the monster the yet further monstrosity of deep dissimulation. The fascination of the style of Tacitus is such that this astounding solution of the difficulty has been all but universally accepted; but even if we accept it, we have to ask ourselves whether profound dissimulation of this kind is not a quality to be desired in a ruler rather than the reverse; whether in fact the general sum of wickedness in the world would not be diminished almost to vanishing point, were we to accept as a rule of life the duty of acting virtuously from motives of profound dissimulation up to the age of seventy, in order that we may enjoy unbridled licentiousness and cruelty for the remainder of our lives. This is the practical result of believing that Tiberius never did a good action except from motives of profound dissimulation. We shall find ourselves, when we come to the events of the year A.D. 30, faced with an insoluble problem, which even the discovery of the missing book of Tacitus might fail to clear for us; but the only solution of that problem which has as yet been offered to us is contrary to the known laws of human nature. Men do not of forethought and design practise virtue for seventy years in order that they may indulge in vice at a time of life when they are oftenest incapable of taking exercise except in a bath-chair.

The fable of the dissimulation of Tiberius grew out of two facts, his naturally reserved nature, and the mysterious tragedy which clouded the last seven years of his life. Of the nature of that tragedy, and of the question whether he was not more sinned against than sinning, it will be more convenient to speak when we reach it in the order of events; but of the personal characteristics which tempted men to ascribe to him numerous unamiable qualities, and which gave credence to the cruel insinuations of his private enemies, it is not inconvenient to speak at the present moment.

The silent man is always terrible, and Tiberius was a silent man; even when he spoke, he spoke slowly; his prepared speeches were uttered with deliberation, and it was not always easy to follow their meaning; he was in fact apt to speak above the heads of his audience, and to ascribe to them knowledge and trains of thought which they did not share with himself. His obscurity was the more alarming because it seemed to be premeditated, for when he was unexpectedly stirred by some strong emotion, his words were rapid enough and clear enough and incisive enough to make such of his hearers as had reason to dread his displeasure feel very uncomfortable. Given time for preparation, he studied the statesman’s art of non-committal oratory; he felt his responsibilities, and was so anxious to avoid injudicious expressions as to be sometimes unintelligible. The contrast between this studied reticence and his occasional vigorous invective, or biting sarcasm, was so marked as to suggest perpetually smouldering fires. Sometimes his sense of humour tempted him to an unseemly display, as when the citizens of Troy sent a belated deputation to condole with him on the death of his son, and he returned the compliment by expressing his sympathy with their grief at the loss of an eminent fellow-citizen—Hector. He was contemptuous of the arts by which popularity is gained; conscious of rectitude of purpose, and of a generally benevolent temper towards his immediate attendants and the people of Rome, he never pretended to take pleasure in things for which he had no taste in order to win favour. Simple in his tastes, inexpensive in his pleasures, he reserved his money for great emergencies, and forbore to squander it upon those sumptuous shows in which the Roman crowds delighted. It was this severity of temperament in Tiberius which Augustus endeavoured unsuccessfully to modify, himself a man naturally disposed to bask in the popular favour and genuinely enjoying the lighter side of life. We shall have to record pleasing instances of the benevolent and wise liberality of Tiberius on occasions of great distress, but the common herd is more ready to bestow its affections upon those who share its everyday amusements than upon those who provide relief for its exceptional tribulations; indeed, the man who abstains from the pleasures of others, inevitably, though unwillingly and unconsciously, assumes the position of a censor of morals, for the man who cannot enjoy with others is often unjustly credited, even in private life, with a veiled contempt for the lovers of innocent diversions. Again, seeing events from a point of view which commanded a large horizon, Tiberius did not feel the sting of words or actions which appeared to less large natures necessarily unendurable, and when he forbore to express resentment his silence was construed as an indication not of indifference, but of politic self-restraint. Men do not readily inflict humiliation on themselves by imputing to an enemy unconsciousness of their malice or contempt for its smallness; it is more satisfactory to believe that the wound has been felt, and that the victim is brooding over his revenge. The reserve of Tiberius was the more imposing because his personal appearance was in itself awe-inspiring; the tall, gaunt old man, with his large eyes, his thin lips, his bush of hair, his stooping shoulders, and, as his age increased, his fiery complexion, was a figure calculated to inspire terror, when the revelation of some unexpected meanness, some more than ordinarily unjust interpretation of his actions called forth one of those rare bursts of passion and scorching vituperation. But a man may thus terrify without possessing any propensity to cruelty; mere native superiority is terrifying, and the more so when its possessor is one whose powers are vague and believed to be unlimited.

Tiberius is not the only statesman who has underestimated the damaging effects of unpopularity; within certain limits a statesman cannot afford to be unpopular, and impairs his own usefulness if he raises an irrational prejudice against himself. There are times and occasions when it is the duty of a statesman to face public opinion, and to persist in an unpopular policy, but it is never the duty of a statesman to excite personal animosity; in so far as a public man stirs unnecessary animosities he is a failure, for it is only a rare combination of circumstances that reveals to a community the real worth of a man who has the unfortunate knack of making himself disliked. On the other hand, the worthlessness of many a man who has achieved great popularity by the unconscious flattery of the weaknesses of his fellow citizens, has often escaped notice, because the events by which alone he could be tested never happened to occur in his lifetime, or during his tenure of power.

Conscious of the strictest rectitude of purpose, contemptuous of the judgment of the crowd, equally contemptuous of the small aims and narrow outlook of even the more cultivated Roman Senators, shrewd, practical and intellectual, but not emotional or sentimental, impatient of weakness, intolerant of smallness, Tiberius was not a man to attract sympathy, or to be appreciated beyond the narrow circle of a few intimates, who understood his real aspirations. Augustus was a less noble man and a less intellectual man, but he was able to do work that Tiberius could never have done, because he was more in touch with the men through whom he had to work; where Augustus was guided by a subtle and unconscious sympathy, Tiberius practised the lessons drawn from observation and reason. The result was in most cases the same, but with this difference, that Tiberius ignored those things which are incapable of rational analysis and mathematical expression, Augustus understood them; while Tiberius refused to allow altars to be built in his honour, his sturdy common sense not permitting him to see anything supernatural in his position, Augustus, with a truer instinct, allowed himself to be canonized in his lifetime. Tiberius offended a popular sentiment by his rejection of divine honours; Augustus by his acceptance added not only to his own security, but to the strength of the Empire.

An examination of the political transactions of Tiberius for the year 15 A.D., and of the account which Tacitus gives of them, forms at once a good introduction to the study of subsequent events, and sets in a clear light the policy of the Emperor, the tendencies of the Senate, and the character of the impartiality claimed for himself by the historian.

Augustus had been dead for four months when the Senate met on the first of January to exchange compliments with the Emperor, and to inaugurate the policy of the coming year; the formal business of installing the officials in their chairs was gone through on this occasion, and all the ceremonies handed down from the Republican times were scrupulously observed.

In addition to the routine business, the Senate offered a compliment to Tiberius; they wished him to accept and adopt permanently the title of “Father of his Country,” which they had given to Augustus. Tiberius refused it. Suetonius has preserved a few lines of the speech in which he intimated his refusal: “If, however, you shall at any time find reason to mistrust my character, or my devotion to yourselves—and I pray heaven that death may save me from such a change in your opinion of me before it comes to pass—this title will add nothing to my fame, while it will convict you either of precipitation in conferring it upon me now, or of levity in forming a contrary opinion hereafter.” The concluding sentence suggests a possible touch of irony, but it does not give any ground for the assumption that Tiberius foresaw his own unpopularity, or was conscious of being unworthy of the honour, as is suggested by Suetonius. Tiberius despised the empty compliment; possibly he was irritated by the offer, but the tyrant who would think it worth his while to deprecate a compliment of this kind, because he was conscious of his unworthiness, or deliberately proposed to make himself unworthy, is rare in the annals of tyranny.

The Senate then wished to proceed to a ceremony which was not merely ceremonial, but of deep political significance. Cæsar during his short reign had prevailed on the Senate to take an oath individually that they would ratify all his transactions. It was by virtue of this proceeding that Antonius made his snatch at supreme power. After the murder of the Dictator the Senate was still pledged to the ratification of his acts, and Antonius being in possession of the papers of Cæsar was able to produce Cæsar’s authority for whatever measures he wished to carry and whatever appointments he wished to make. Augustus had reintroduced the same system, and it had been the custom during his reign to renew the oath on the first day of each official year. The Senate’s position was thus reduced from that of a legislative and executive body to that of a purely consultative body; the forms of voting, the forms of the appointment of magistrates might be maintained, senators might be free to express their opinions on questions of policy, or to raise questions and direct the attention of the Emperor to matters requiring his attention, but they were pledged in advance to accept his decision. It is a work of supererogation to enumerate the different magistracies which were combined in the one person of the Emperor, for so long as the Senators took this oath, he was above all magistracies; no power was left to the Senate except that of formally ratifying his decrees. Much the same effect has been secured in English politics by the stringent rules of party Government: members of Parliament do not take an oath to register the decrees of the leaders or leader of their party, but the practical result is the same; whatever may be said in the House of Commons, however violent the debates, the conclusion is foregone, so soon as the Government of the day has declared its intentions; practically no Bill can be introduced without its consent, no discussion held except with its connivance; the majority is pledged to vote as its leaders direct, and the march into the division lobbies is a tedious and superfluous ceremony, an antiquated and exasperating formality. Political purists may deplore such a state of things, but as a practical expedient it is supremely useful. No country was ever yet governed by an undisciplined debating society; the form of discipline may vary, but the discipline must be there.

Tiberius, however, wished to be a constitutional ruler, and to restore to the Senate its independence; he refused to allow it to swear in advance to ratify his transactions. Here again we have a few lines of his speech: “I shall always be like myself, and I shall never change my character so long as I am of sound mind; but for the sake of the precedent the Senate must be cautious not to bind itself to the transactions of any being who might be changed by some misadventure.”

The comment of Tacitus is simply: “He did not, however, gain credit for a constitutional policy in this way. For he had revived the ‘Lex Majestatis,’ etc., etc.”

Deferring for a moment the consideration of the “Lex Majestatis,” which was the special bugbear of Tacitus, we may remark that either he did not realize the significance of the act by which Tiberius formally emancipated the Senate from his own control, in which case we attach little value to his opinions as a constitutional historian, or that he did see, but preferred to ignore, in which case we may dismiss his claim for impartiality. It is quite possible that he states correctly the opinion of some contemporaries of Tiberius, who frequently misunderstood a moderation for which they were not prepared, and who had so long acquiesced in the policy of Augustus that any other was beyond their comprehension; but Tacitus was not bound to a similar dullness, and still less are we bound to share his blindness. The act was one of the first political importance, and no modern historian would dismiss a similar action of a prominent statesman with a comment of seven words. We shall see that in this as in other similar measures, Tiberius was unsuccessful in his attempt to restore the Senatorial Government, but we cannot without gross injustice refuse him credit for making the attempt.

The next statement, “For he had revived the ‘Lex Majestatis,’ etc.,” is simply a lie, for the words would naturally be held to imply that the law in question had fallen into abeyance, and was now recalled to activity. Tacitus himself tells us in the very next sentence, that Augustus had extended the application of this law from deeds to libellous writings; nor was the “revival” of this application anything that we should understand as a revival. The Prætors, on entering office each year, made an official announcement of the sense in which they proposed to interpret the laws during their term of office, and of any modifications which were to be introduced in their procedure. Pompeius Macro, who was one of the Prætors for the year A.D. 15, asked Tiberius whether cases under the “Lex Majestatis” were to be heard. Tiberius replied that the laws must be enforced; he neither made a new law nor revived an old one, nor announced a fresh interpretation of a previous law; he simply announced that the previous practice should be continued, and this in the customary routine of business; it was the duty of Macro the Prætor, not of Tiberius the Princeps, to announce any proposed change in procedure. Tacitus may be right in assuming that it was in the power of Tiberius at this moment to take the sting out of the actions under the “Lex Majestatis,” and that he would have been wise in doing so, but he has totally misrepresented the facts in stating that Tiberius revived the operation of this law.

The history of the “Lex Majestatis” is not absolutely clear, but it is certain that comparatively early in the Republican period the laws provided for the punishment of a Roman citizen who by his acts diminished the majesty of the Republic: cowardice in the field, premature surrender, dishonourable breaches of faith by which the dignity of the State was impaired, were deeds punishable under this law. Its operation was extended under Augustus to words and actions tending to lower the dignity of private citizens and of the head of the State in whom the majesty of the Republic was centred and personified; to publish disrespectful or libellous statements about the Emperor, to plot against his life, to acquiesce in depreciatory criticism of his actions, were all things which could be brought under the “Lex Majestatis”; it dealt with treason, constructive treason, and ordinary libel. The penalties were severe, but the peculiar aggravation lay in the fact that the informer was rewarded. Similar laws are not unknown to modern States, and are not held to be necessarily detrimental to the body politic; at the same time, they are capable of being abused, and under the rule of Caligula, Nero and Domitian, the “Lex Majestatis” proved to be an engine of tyranny; informers drove a profitable trade, and the confiscations made under the law proved a source of revenue to these spendthrift princes. There is, however, no evidence that the grievance had been felt in the reign of Augustus, and Tiberius is hardly to be blamed for not annulling ancient legislation within six months of his accession, which had as yet caused little inconvenience. If there had been abuses, the remedy lay in the administration rather than in the repeal of the law.

Tacitus had at his disposal the whole body of the transactions of the Senate; if a good case was to be made out against the manner in which the “Lex Majestatis” was worked under Tiberius, all the material was before him; had there been serious abuses, the evidence was accessible. He, however, produces only three cases in the year 15 A.D., which he introduces with the following flourish: “It will be worth while to relate the charges which it was endeavoured to bring against Falanius and Rubrius, equestrians of no particular distinction, so that it may be seen from what beginnings this deadly bane started, with what artful management on the part of Tiberius it crept on, was then repressed, lastly blazed up, and carried everything before it.” Falanius was accused on two charges: he had enrolled a notoriously disreputable actor among the worshippers of Augustus; he had sold a statue of Augustus along with the garden in which it stood. Rubrius was accused of perjury after swearing by the name of Augustus. The charges were dismissed. Tiberius said that Cassius the actor had been included by Livia herself among the actors appointed to give a performance in honour of Augustus; that there was no reason for distinguishing between a statue of Augustus and statues of other gods, which were habitually included in the sale of houses and gardens; that Augustus had not been deified in order that his worship should lead to the ruin of the citizens; and as to oaths taken in his name, they must be treated like oaths taken in the name of Jupiter. He added with characteristic irony: “The gods can protect their own dignity.” These remarks contained in a letter addressed to the Consuls, as soon as the facts came to the Emperor’s ears, stopped the prosecution. The accusers were foolish enough, but it is not easy to see where Tiberius is guilty of encouraging informers in these cases.

The third case was more complicated. Granius Marcellus, the Governor of Bithynia, was accused by two different men at once of two different crimes: his subordinate, Cæpio Crispinus, charged him with extortion in the government of his province; Hispo, a professional informer, according to Tacitus, accused him of defamation of the character of Tiberius, of placing his own statue higher than that of the Cæsars, of cutting the head off a statue of Augustus and replacing it by one of Tiberius. Marcellus was acquitted of the charges brought by Hispo, which came under the “Lex Majestatis”; the charge of extortion was referred to the court appointed to hear such causes. Here again there is absolutely no evidence that Tiberius was inclined to press charges under the “Lex Majestatis”; the evidence is all in the contrary direction, but Tacitus, with an absolutely diabolical ingenuity, contrives to give his story the necessary twist. “Hispo pretended that Marcellus had made libellous speeches about Tiberius, a charge which it was impossible to escape, since the accuser picked out all the most abominable things in the character of the Emperor, and imputed the statement of them to the defendant. For because they were true charges they were believed to have been uttered.” And yet it was precisely on these charges that the man was acquitted. Tacitus, however, succeeded in stating that Tiberius was a man of abominable moral character, that everybody knew it, and in further suggesting that the statements were made in a court of justice with the acquiescence of the audience. It is not likely that the speech of Hispo was preserved, even if the case went so far as to allow him to make one, but the influence of the senatorial record in favour of Tiberius had to be dispelled, and is cleverly dispelled by the suggestion that the calumnies against Tiberius received a quasi-official sanction in the law court; if they were listened to, their truth was so obvious that nobody protested. After recounting the points in Hispo’s indictment, Tacitus continues: “Thereupon he (Tiberius) lost his temper to such an extent, that breaking his usual silence he declared that he would give his opinion on that case openly and on his oath, in order that the other senators might be obliged to do the same.” Tacitus would like us to think that the display of indignation was caused by the charge of defamation, but there were two other and better reasons for wrath. In the first place, extortionate proceedings in the provinces always stirred the wrath of Tiberius; Bithynia was a Senatorial Province; the Senate were still apt to deal leniently with one of their own order, and Tiberius may have detected indications that they were likely to take this line; in the second place, to couple a charge of extortion with a charge of defamation of the Emperor was a bit of sharp practice; the informer hoped to get his reward under the “Lex Majestatis,” because he believed that the man would be condemned on the charge of extortion, and that the prejudice thus created against him would secure his condemnation on both charges. It was an abominable trick, and Tiberius saw through it.

The conclusion of the narrative of Tacitus is no less ingenious; he says: “There even then remained some traces of expiring liberty. Therefore Gnæus Piso said, ‘In what place will you give your opinion, Cæsar? If first, I shall have something to follow; if last, I am afraid I may inadvertently differ from you.’ Thoroughly alarmed by these words, and penitent because of the imprudence of his outburst, he allowed the accused to be acquitted of the charges of ‘Majestas.’ The case of extortion was referred to the assessors.”

As these are the only three cases tried under the law of “Majestas” in the first twelve months of the reign of Tiberius, we must admit that he marched very slowly to that tragic wickedness to which Tacitus refers, and by means of an art which is so artful, as to be to our eyes absolutely invisible.

It is further to be remembered that there was formal documentary evidence of the charges, and of their subsequent dismissal, but no evidence can have been forthcoming as to the Emperor’s burst of temper, or the acquiescence of the audience in the supposed revelation of his wickedness except tradition and private memoirs. The remark of Gnæus Piso was to the point, but it is evidence of the weakness of the Senate, not of the tyranny of Tiberius.

Tiberius having thus summarily quashed three cases under the “Lex Majestatis,” and sent a senatorial oppressor of a province to be dealt with by the constitutional court, may have offended those surviving heirs of the old senatorial tradition to whom the restoration of the Senate implied the restoration of the abuses of the senatorial administration, but he had done nothing tyrannical. The narrative of Tacitus proceeds, however, as if Tiberius had waded knee deep in blood, and triumphed in the perversion of justice: “Not satiated with the processes in the Senate he used to attend the courts, sitting at the end of the tribunal, in order not to remove the Prætor from his official seat.” There is no question about the fact; Augustus used in the same unofficial fashion to attend the courts and watch the administration of justice, acting in this respect like any other Senator, but the skilful use of the words “not satiated” gives a sinister significance to an innocent statement.

The administration of justice was not above suspicion in the Roman Law Courts, and the presence of Tiberius among the jury secured a fair hearing. As Tacitus himself says, “Many decisions were given in his presence contrary to the bribes and solicitations of influential men,” and then follows the customary Tacitean comment, “But while the interests of truth were being looked after liberty was corrupted.” If liberty means the sacred right of senatorial juries and powerful men to secure maladministration of justice by means of bribes and private influence, we can hardly blame Tiberius for “corrupting” such liberty, and may be excused for not seeing any excessive adulation in the remarks which Paterculus makes in reference to the same procedure, “Confidence in the Courts of Law was restored.” “With what dignity does he (Tiberius) attentively listen to cases as a senator and juryman, not as Princeps and Cæsar!”

By insisting on an impartial administration of justice, Tiberius made enemies among those who were interested in the contrary practice, and there is no doubt that many a senator relieved his feelings by recording instances of such tyranny in his private diary. It is all a question of point of view; our point of view does not allow us to stigmatize a man as a tyrant who steadily worked for the purity of the law courts.

The next recorded transaction in the Senate was of a different nature; the excessive weight of a road and aqueduct had caused a subsidence of the foundations of a Senator’s house, and he had applied to the Senate for compensation; the officials of the Treasury resisted the claim, but Tiberius ordered the value of the house to be paid to the owner. Then follows the inevitable comment: “For he was fond of distributing money in honourable ways, a virtue which he long retained, when he was abandoning all others.” Even this remark is, however, not sufficiently damaging for Tacitus, and he carefully provides that his next statement should be calculated to appeal to a well-known weakness. Propertius Celer asked to be allowed to retire from the Senatorial Order on account of insufficiency of means. Tiberius, on ascertaining that his poverty was inherited, bestowed on him a million sestertii (about £8,500). So far so good; no senator could object to this, but something follows: “When others attempted to get the same relief he ordered them to prove their case to the Senate, harsh even in those things which he did in due form, through his excessive love of strict procedure. For this reason the rest preferred silence and poverty to confession and gratuities.” We shall have to record later on a particularly impudent attempt on the part of an indigent Senator to extort money for the relief of his necessities, and shall find that Tiberius had good reason for insisting that men who claimed the assistance of the Senate should give a full account of their means and of the causes of their poverty; but it is easy to see that the severity of Tiberius would not be popular with the Senate, and that a prejudice could be created against him by giving an example of his strictness in this matter early in his reign. Paterculus, more just than Tacitus, praises Tiberius for the discrimination with which he assisted impoverished Senators.

In the same year there were heavy floods in the Tiber; the lower regions of the city were inundated, many buildings fell, many lives were lost. Asinius Gallus, the second husband of Vipsania, moved that the Sibylline books should be consulted. We are not surprised to hear that Tiberius rejected the motion “on religious no less than practical grounds.” It is an interesting illustration of the curious development of the Italian intellect that these same men who could seriously propose in their solemn assembly to consult the Roman Mother Shipton in a case of this kind should form a bold engineering scheme for dealing with the difficulty. It was suggested, after a committee had reported, that the tributaries which brought the floods into the Tiber should be diverted. The scheme was abandoned, as deputations from the inhabitants of the valleys through which these rivers flowed pointed out that they would suffer serious loss if it were carried out. There were also religious obstacles; these rivers were worshipped, and Tiber himself might object to the proposed diminution of his glorious stream.

We then have a fragment of administration dismissed by Tacitus in a couple of lines without comment. The provinces of Achaia and Macedonia begged to be relieved of the expense of the Senatorial Government and transferred to the Imperial provinces; both of these provinces had suffered in consequence of the Pannonian war. The Imperial administration was less expensive than that of the Senate, not necessarily because the Senatorial Government was corrupt, but because the honours paid to the Senatorial viceroys and their trains were expensive; there was the difference between maintaining a court and paying an official. Adverse comment was in this case impossible, because when Tacitus was writing, the process of removing the distinction between Senatorial and Imperial provinces was in progress. Trajan would hardly have approved of a reactionary comment, such as Tacitus might have been tempted to make. These provinces were restored to the Senate by Claudius.

This notice is followed by a statement and comment in the best Tacitean style: “Drusus (the son of Tiberius) presided at the gladiatorial shows which he had offered in the names of himself and his brother Germanicus, although too easily pleased with cheap bloodshed, a thing which was full of danger to the commonalty, and which his father is said to have reproved. Different reasons were assigned for the Emperor’s own absence from the shows; some said that he disliked a crowd, others alleged his dismal nature and his fear of comparisons, for Augustus had taken part in these events with affability. I should be unwilling to believe that an opportunity was deliberately given to his son of demonstrating his cruelty and exciting unpopularity, though that was also said.”

The connection of thought is not quite obvious, for if the gladiatorial shows were popular, and they certainly were popular, how could Drusus incur unpopularity by presiding? There is unhappily no evidence that the populace of Rome ever objected to bloodshed in the arena, and the president at these shows would be more likely to make himself disliked by checking than by permitting or encouraging the slaughter. Nor again is it easy to see the force of the phrase, “although too easily pleased with cheap bloodshed,” unless there is a reference implied to the pleasure which Drusus was said to have taken in the executions of the mutineers in Pannonia, an inexpensive pleasure compared with that afforded by the fights of trained gladiators; the word “although” suggests that Drusus could get his bloodshed more cheaply than by giving gladiatorial shows.

Again, if Drusus was wrong in patronizing these shows, how could Tiberius also be wrong in refusing to be present? As a matter of fact, one of the many points in the character of Tiberius which commands our respect is his aversion to the disgusting spectacles of all kinds in which the Roman people delighted. But considerations of this kind did not weigh with Tacitus; he was not interested in being consistent; he found in the memoirs adverse interpretations of the conduct of Tiberius, and he impartially repeated them, though they were in contradiction with his previous condemnation of Drusus.

A riot in the theatre was the next event of importance. We shall have on a later occasion to discuss the position of the theatres at some length. It is enough to record that on the present occasion opinions were given in the Senate to the effect that the Prætors should be allowed to flog actors. A tribune interposed his veto according to an old constitutional practice, and was roundly abused by Asinius Gallus for doing so. “Tiberius preserved silence, for he conceded to the Senate such phantoms of liberty.” However, the veto of the tribune was allowed, “because the sainted Augustus had once declared that actors were exempt from the rods, and it was a matter of conscience with Tiberius not to infringe his utterances.” The further proceedings in the Senate on this occasion throw a curious light on the manners of the time. It was decreed that Senators should not enter the houses of the pantomimists, that the Equestrians should not attend them when they went out, that they should not give performances except in the theatre, and that the Prætors should have power to punish the extravagance of the spectators with banishment.

Then the Spaniards were allowed to build a temple to Augustus at Tarragona, thus setting an example to all the provinces. The people of Tarragona had not hitherto been fortunate in their worship of Augustus; they had set up an altar to him in his lifetime, and soon afterwards announced to him radiantly that a palm had grown from it. “It is easy to see that you do not often sacrifice,” the old man had remarked.

Petitions were presented against the tax of one per cent. on auctions. Tiberius declared in an edict that the military chest depended on that source of income, and added that the burden of the army was too great for the State unless the soldiers served for twenty years; thus the reduction to sixteen years demanded by the mutineers was set aside.

The two concluding chapters of the first book of the Annals are also remarkable in their unfairness or want of perspicacity; and yet the grievances suggested by them have been alluded to again and again by historians of repute without criticism and as real grievances, for it is the melancholy fate of most students of Tacitus to lose all sense of consistency.

“Poppæus Sabinus was continued in the governorship of Moesia, Achaia and Macedonia being added to the province. This too was one of the ways of Tiberius, to prolong the periods of office and to keep most of the officials in command of the same armies or at the head of the same jurisdictions to the ends of their lives. Various reasons are given. Some said that through mere distaste for fresh exertion he treated appointments once made as eternal, others that he was envious and wanted few to enjoy power; some think that selections were a matter of serious anxiety to him because he was cunning; he had little regard for eminent virtues, and again he disliked vices; he feared danger to himself from worthy men, public disgrace from bad men. At length he went so far in this kind of dilatoriness that he assigned provinces to some men, whom he did not intend to leave the city.”

The frequent change of Governors, Generals, and other officials had been the curse of the Republican Government. Again and again it had been necessary, when serious work was to be done, to lengthen the limited terms of office allowed by the old senatorial constitution; the old arrangements had not been made in the interests of the provincials or the administration of public business, but so that the members of the oligarchy at Rome might share and share alike in the plunder of the conquered countries, and that no single one of them should acquire sufficient money or power to set himself above the laws. When the old arrangements were rigorously carried out, no Roman Governor had more than a transitory glance of the province which he occupied; he himself and the train by which he was attended devoted their energies to making as much as they could in the short time at their disposal; the evil had been pointed out again and again; and as Tacitus has himself told us, the burden even of the reformed senatorial government was such that two impoverished provinces begged to be relieved of it. The policy of Tiberius was the only sound one for the provinces, and the sole objection to it was an objection which he, if he had been a suspicious ruler, might have felt to be a strong one. There was a danger that the men who stayed in their provinces long enough to feel their strength might be tempted to set up an independent government. This danger Tiberius preferred to risk, and that he did so acquits him of the charge conveyed in the insinuation that he was jealous of the enjoyment of power by a number of persons. Eventually, as we shall see later on, he made the Governors of provinces Secretaries of State for the countries which they governed; they did not leave Rome, but were the channels through which the business of the provinces was conducted at Rome. The language which Tacitus here uses is not the language of an experienced official working under Trajan with the records of a century of the Empire behind him, but the language of a reactionary of the reign of Tiberius. The breed of Romans who could see nothing in greater Rome but a field for plundering in the name of governing never quite died out; even in Trajan’s reign there were probably more aspirants than offices, and many discontented men, who thought that there were not sufficient opportunities of promotion. Tiberius certainly was careful in his selection of the great officials, but his caution was in the interests of the unhappy provincials. There were doubtless many noble Romans in his day who believed themselves to be possessed of the eminent virtues necessary to a provincial governor, but who somehow failed to secure promotion.

Tacitus on this occasion, as on many others, skilfully substitutes contemporary comment for contemporary evidence. All that he really tells us is that some of the contemporaries of Tiberius disliked his policy; what he wishes to tell us is that the government of Tiberius was radically bad, and that his contemporaries were right in saying so.

The last chapter deals with the elections of the Consuls, a subject which Tacitus professes to find obscure. The reality of election by the Comitia Centuriata had already been abolished; it had become a mere form, and nobody noticed its abolition; Augustus practically appointed the Consuls; Tiberius seems to have wished the Senate to elect them, but found that there were practical difficulties. After mentioning various ways in which Tiberius secured the election of his own candidates, Tacitus says: “Generally he discoursed to the effect that those men only were candidates whose names he had given to the Consuls, but that others were at liberty to stand if they had confidence in their own influence or deserts. This was plausible enough in words, but meaningless or insidious in fact, and the more it was involved in the appearance of liberty, likely to break out into the more deadly slavery.”

This imposing malediction ends the book. As a matter of fact the Consular Office was by this time purely ornamental.