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.