The Works of Tacitus
tr. by Alfred John Church and William Jackson Brodribb
[1864-1877]
Tacitus: Annals Book 13 [40]
40. Meantime Tiridates, ashamed of seeming utterly powerless by not interfering
with the siege, and afraid that, in attempting to stop it, he would entangle
himself and his cavalry on difficult ground, resolved finally to display his
forces and either give battle on the first opportunity, or, by a pretended flight,
prepare the way for some stratagem. Suddenly, he threw himself on the Roman
columns, without however surprising our general, who had formed his army for
fighting as well as for marching. On the right and left flanks marched the third
and sixth legions, with some picked men of the tenth in the centre; the baggage
was secured within the lines, and the rear was guarded by a thousand cavalry,
who were ordered to resist any close attack of the enemy, but not to pursue
his retreat. On the wings were the foot-archers and the remainder of the cavalry,
with a more extended line on the left wing, along the base of some hills, so
that should the enemy penetrate the centre, he might be encountered both in
front and flank. Tiridates faced us in skirmishing order, but not within missile-range,
now threatening attack, now seemingly afraid, with the view of loosening our
formation and falling on isolated divisions. Finding that there was no breaking
of our ranks from rashness, and that only one cavalry officer advanced too boldly,
and that he falling pierced with arrows, confirmed the rest in obedience by
the warning, he retired on the approach of darkness.
41. Corbulo then encamped on the spot, and considered whether he should push
on his legions without their baggage to Artaxata and blockade the city, on which,
he supposed, Tiridates had fallen back. When his scouts reported that the king
had undertaken a long march, and that it was doubtful whether Media or Albania
was its destination, he waited for daylight, and then sent on his light-armed
troops, which were meanwhile to hover round the walls and begin the attack from
a distance. The inhabitants however opened the gates of their own accord, and
surrendered themselves and their property to the Romans. This saved their lives;
the city was fired, demolished and levelled to the ground, as it could not be
held without a strong garrison from the extent of the walls, and we had not
sufficient force to be divided between adequately garrisoning it and carrying
on the war. If again the place were left untouched and unguarded, no advantage
or glory would accrue from its capture. Then too there was a wonderful occurrence,
almost a divine interposition. While the whole space outside the town, up to
its buildings, was bright with sunlight, the enclosure within the walls was
suddenly shrouded in a black cloud, seamed with lightning-flashes, and thus
the city was thought to be given up to destruction, as if heaven was wroth against
it. For all this Nero was unanimously saluted emperor, and by the Senate’s decree
a thanksgiving was held; statues also, arches and successive consulships were
voted to him, and among the holy days were to be included the day on which the
victory was won, that on which it was announced, and that on which the motion
was brought forward. Other proposals too of a like kind were carried, on a scale
so extravagant, that Caius Cassius, after having assented to the rest of the
honours, argued that if the gods were to be thanked for the bountiful favours
of fortune, even a whole year would not suffice for thanksgivings, and therefore
there ought to be a classification of sacred and business-days, that so they
might observe divine ordinances and yet not interfer with human affairs.
42. A man who had struggled with various calamities and earned the hate of
many, was then impeached and condemned, but not without angry feelings towards
Seneca. This was Publius Suilius. He had been terrible and venal, while Claudius
reigned, and when times were changed, he was not so much humbled as his enemies
wished, and was one who would rather seem a criminal than a suppliant. With
the intent of crushing him, so men believed, a decree of the Senate was revived,
along with the penalty of the Cincian law against persons who had pleaded for
hire. Suilius spared not complaint or indignant remonstrance; freespoken because
of his extreme age as well as from his insolent temper, he taunted Seneca with
his savage enmity against the friends of Claudius, under whose reign he had
endured a most righteously deserved exile. “The man,” he said, “familiar as
he was only with profitless studies, and with the ignorance of boyhood, envied
those who employed a lively and genuine eloquence in the defence of their fellow-citizens.
He had been Germanicus’s quaestor, while Seneca had been a paramour in his house.
Was it to be thought a worse offence to obtain a reward for honest service with
the litigant’s consent, than to pollute the chambers of the imperial ladies?
By what kind of wisdom or maxims of philosophy had Seneca within four years
of royal favour amassed three hundred million sesterces? At Rome the wills of
the childless were, so to say, caught in his snare while Italy and the provinces
were drained by a boundless usury. His own money, on the other hand, had been
acquired by industry and was not excessive. He would suffer prosecutions, perils,
anything indeed rather than make an old and self-learned position of honour
to bow before an upstart prosperity.”
43. Persons were not wanting to report all this to Seneca, in the exact words,
or with a worse sense put on it. Accusers were also found who alleged that our
allies had been plundered, when Suilius governed the province of Asia, and that
there had been embezzlement of public monies. Then, as an entire year had been
granted to them for inquiries, it seemed a shorter plan to begin with his crimes
at Rome, the witnesses of which were on the spot. These men charged Suilius
with having driven Quintus Pomponius by a relentless prosecution into the extremity
of civil war, with having forced Julia, Drusus’s daughter, and Sabina Poppaea
to suicide, with having treacherously ruined Valerius Asiaticus, Lusius Saturninus
and Cornelius Lupus, in fact, with the wholesale conviction of troops of Roman
knights, and with all the cruelty of Claudius. His defence was that of all this
he had done nothing on his own responsibility but had simply obeyed the emperor,
till Nero stopped such pleadings, by stating that he had ascertained from his
father’s notebooks that he had never compelled the prosecution of a single person.
Suilius then sheltered himself under Messalina’s orders, and the defence began
to collapse. “Why,” it was asked, “was no one else chosen to put his tongue
at the service of that savage harlot? We must punish the instruments of atrocious
acts, when, having gained the rewards of wickedness, they impute the wickedness
to others.” And so, with the loss of half his property, his son and granddaughter
being allowed to retain the other half, and what they had inherited under their
mother’s or grandmother’s will being also exempted from confiscation, Suilius
was banished to the Balearic isles. Neither in the crisis of his peril nor after
his condemnation did he quail in spirit. Rumour said that he supported that
lonely exile by a life of ease and plenty. When the accusers attacked his son
Nerullinus on the strength of men’s hatred of the father and of some charges
of extortion, the emperor interposed, as if implying that vengeange was fully
satisfied.
44. About the same time Octavius Sagitta, a tribune of the people, who was
enamoured to frenzy of Pontia, a married woman, bribed her by most costly presents
into an intrigue and then into abandoning her husband. He had offered her marriage
and had won her consent. But as soon as she was free, she devised delays, pretended
that her father’s wishes were against it, and having secured the prospect of
a richer husband, she repudiated her promises. Octavius, on the other hand,
now remonstrated, now threatened; his good name, he protested, was lost, his
means exhausted, and as for his life, which was all that was left to him, he
surrendered it to her mercy. When she spurned him, he asked the solace of one
night, with which to soothe his passion, that he might set bounds to it for
the future. A night was fixed, and Pontia intrusted the charge of her chamber
to a female slave acquainted with her secret. Octavius attended by one freedman
entered with a dagger concealed under his dress. Then, as usual in lovers’ quarrels,
there were chidings, entreaties, reproaches, excuses, and some period of the
darkness was given up to passion; then, when seemingly about to go, and she
was fearing nothing, he stabbed her with the steel, and having wounded and scared
away the slave girl who was hurrying to her, rushed out of the chamber. Next
day the murder was notorious, and there was no question as to the murderer,
for it was proved that he had passed some time with her. The freedman, however,
declared the deed was his, that he had, in fact, avenged his patron’s wrongs.
He had made some impression by the nobleness of his example, when the slave
girl recovered and revealed the truth. Octavius, when he ceased to be tribune,
was prosecuted before the consuls by the father of the murdered woman, and was
condemned by the sentence of the Senate under “the law concerning assassins.”
45. A profligacy equally notorious in that same year proved the beginning
of great evils to the State. There was at Rome one Sabina Poppaea; her father
was Titus Ollius, but she had assumed the name of her maternal grandfather Poppaeus
Sabinus, a man of illustrious memory and pre-eminently distinguished by the
honours of a consulship and a triumph. As for Ollius, before he attained promotion,
the friendship of Sejanus was his ruin. This Poppaea had everything but a right
mind. Her mother, who surpassed in personal attractions all the ladies of her
day, had bequeathed to her alike fame and beauty. Her fortune adequately corresponded
to the nobility of her descent. Her conversation was charming and her wit anything
but dull. She professed virtue, while she practised laxity. Seldom did she appear
in public, and it was always with her face partly veiled, either to disappoint
men’s gaze or to set off her beauty. Her character she never spared, making
no distinction between a husband and a paramour, while she was never a slave
to her own passion or to that of her lover. Wherever there was a prospect of
advantage, there she transferred her favours. And so while she was living as
the wife of Rufius Crispinus, a Roman knight, by whom she had a son, she was
attracted by the youth and fashionable elegance of Otho, and by the fact too
that he was reputed to have Nero’s most ardent friendship. Without any delay
the intrigue was followed by marriage.
46. Otho now began to praise his wife’s beauty and accomplishments to the
emperor, either from a lover’s thoughtlessness or to inflame Nero’s passion,
in the hope of adding to his own influence by the further tie which would arise
out of possession of the same woman. Often, as he rose from the emperor’s table,
was he heard repeatedly to say that he was going to her, to the high birth and
beauty which had fallen to his lot, to that which all men pray for, the joy
of the fortunate. These and like incitements allowed but of brief delay. Once
having gained admission, Poppaea won her way by artful blandishments, pretending
that she could not resist her passion and that she was captivated by Nero’s
person. Soon, as the emperor’s love grew ardent, she would change and be supercilious,
and, if she were detained more than one or two nights, would say again and again
that she was a married woman and could not give up her husband attached as she
was to Otho by a manner of life, which no one equalled. “His ideas and his style
were grand; at his house everything worthy of the highest fortune was ever before
her eyes. Nero, on the contrary, with his slave girl mistress, tied down by
his attachment to Acte, had derived nothing from his slavish associations but
what was low and degrading.” Otho was now cut off from Nero’s usual familiar
intercourse, and then even from interviews and from the royal suite, and at
last was appointed governor of the province of Lusitania, that he might not
be the emperor’s rival at Rome. There he lived up to the time of the civil wars,
not in the fashion of his disgraceful past, but uprightly and virtuously, a
pleasure-loving man when idle, and self-restrained when in power.
47. Hitherto Nero had sought a veil for his abominations and wickedness.
He was particularly suspicious of Cornelius Sulla, whose apathetic temper he
interpreted as really the reverse, inferring that he was, in fact, an artful
dissembler. Graptus, one of the emperor’s freedmen, whose age and experience
had made him thoroughly acquainted with the imperial household from the time
of Tiberius, quickened these apprehensions by the following falsehood. The Mulvian
bridge was then a famous haunt of nightly profligacy, and Nero used to go there
that he might take his pleasures more freely outside the city. So Graptus, taking
advantage of an idle panic into which the royal attendants had chanced to have
been thrown on their return by one of those youthful frolics which were then
everywhere practised, invented a story that a treacherous attack had been planned
on the emperor, should he go back by the Flaminian road, and that through the
favour of destiny he had escaped it, as he went home by a different way to Sallust’s
gardens. Sulla, he said, was the author of this plot. Not one, however, of Sulla’s
slaves or clients was recognised, and his character, despicable as it was and
incapable of a daring act, was utterly at variance with the charge. Still, just
as if he had been found guilty, he was ordered to leave his country, and confine
himself within the walls of Massilia.
48. During the same consulship a hearing was given to two conflicting deputations
from Puteoli, sent to the Senate by the town council and by the populace. The
first spoke bitterly of the violence of the multitude; the second, of the rapacity
of the magistrates and of all the chief citizens. That the disturbance, which
had gone as far as stoning and threats of fire, might not lead on to bloodshed
and armed fighting, Caius Cassius was appointed to apply some remedy. As they
would not endure his rigour, the charge of the affair was at his own request
transferred to the brothers Scribonii, to whom was given a praetorian cohort,
the terror of which, coupled with the execution of a few persons, restored peace
to the townspeople.
49. I should not mention a very trivial decree of the Senate which allowed
the city of Syracuse to exceed the prescribed number in their gladiatorial shows,
had not Paetus Thrasea spoken against it and furnished his traducers with a
ground for censuring his motion. “Why,” it was asked, “if he thought that the
public welfare required freedom of speech in the Senate, did he pursue such
trifling abuses? Why should he not speak for or against peace and war, or on
the taxes and laws and other matters involving Roman interests? The senators,
as often as they received the privilege of stating an opinion, were at liberty
to say out what they pleased, and to claim that it should be put to the vote.
Was it the only worthy object of reform to provide that the Syracusans should
not give shows on a larger scale? Were all other matters in every department
of the empire as admirable as if Thrasea and not Nero had the direction of them?
But if the highest affairs were passed by and ignored, how much more ought there
to be no meddling with things wholly insignificant.” Thrasea in reply, when
his friends asked an explanation, said “that it was not in ignorance of Rome’s
actual condition that he sought to correct such decrees, but that he was giving
what was due to the honour of the senators, in making it evident that those
who attended even to the merest trifles, would not disguise their responsibility
for important affairs.”
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