19. When the Theatre of Marcellus opened again after Vespasian had built its new stage, he revived the former musical performances and presented Apelles the tragic actor with 4,000 gold pieces; Terpnus and Diodorus the lyre-players, with 2,000 each; and several others with 1,000. His lowest cash awards were 400. But he also distributed several gold crowns. Moreover, he ordered a great number of formal dinners on a lavish scale,102 to encourage the victualling trade. On 23 December, the Saturnalian Festival, he gave special gifts to his male dinner guests, and did the same for women on 1 March, which was Matrons’ Day. But even this generosity could not rid him of his reputation for stinginess. Thus the people of Alexandria continued to call him ‘Cybiosactes’ (‘a dealer in small cubes of fish’), after one of the meanest of all their kings. And when he died, the famous comedian Favor, who had been chosen to wear his funeral mask in the procession and give the customary imitations of his gestures and words, shouted to the procurators: ‘Hey! How much will all this cost?’ ‘A hundred thousand,’ they answered. ‘Then I’ll take a thousand down, and you can just pitch me into the Tiber.’
20. Vespasian was square-shouldered, with strong, well-formed limbs, but always wore a strained expression on his face; so that once, when he asked a well-known wit who always used to make jokes about people: ‘Why not make one about me?’ the answer came: ‘I will, when you have at last finished relieving yourself.’ He enjoyed perfect health and took no medical precautions for preserving it, except to have his throat and body massaged regularly in the ball-alley, and to fast one whole day every month.
21. Here follows a general description of his habits. After becoming Emperor he would rise early, before daylight even, to deal with his private correspondence and official reports. Next, he would invite his friends to wish him good-morning while he put on his shoes and dressed for the day. Having attended to any urgent business he would first take a drive and then return to bed for a nap—with one of the several mistresses whom he had engaged after Caenis’s death. Finally, he took a bath and went to dinner, where he would be in such a cheerful mood that members of his household usually chose this time to ask favours of him.
22. Yet Vespasian was nearly always just as good-natured, cracking frequent jokes; and, though he had a low form of humour and often used obscene expressions, some of his sayings are still remembered. Taken to task by Mestrius Florus, an ex-consul, for vulgarly saying plostra instead of plaustra (waggons), he greeted him the following day as ‘Flaurus’. Once a woman complained that she was desperately in love with him, and would not leave him alone until he consented to seduce her. ‘How shall I enter that item in your expense ledger?’ asked his accountant later, on learning that she had got 4,000 gold pieces out of him. ‘Oh,’ said Vespasian, ‘just put it down to “love for Vespasian”.’
23. With his knack of apt quotation from the Greek Classics, he once described a very tall man whose genitals were grotesquely overdeveloped as:
‘Striding along with a lance which casts a preposterous shadow,’—a line out of the Iliad. And when, to avoid paying death duties into the Privy Purse, a very rich freedman changed his name and announced that he had been born free, Vespasian quoted Menander’s:
O, Laches, when your life is o’er,
Cerylus you will be once more.
Most of his humour, however, centred on the way he did business; he always tried to make his swindles sound less offensive by passing them off as jokes. One of his favourite servants applied for a stewardship on behalf of a man whose brother he claimed to be. ‘Wait,’ Vespasian told him, and had the candidate brought in for a private interview. ‘How much commission would you have paid my servant?’ he asked. The man mentioned a sum. ‘You may pay it directly to me,’ said Vespasian, giving him the stewardship. When the servant brought the matter up again, Vespasian’s advice was: ‘Go and find another brother. The one you mistook for your own turns out to be mine!’
Once, on a journey, his muleteer dismounted and began shoeing the mules; Vespasian suspected a ruse to hold him up, because a friend of the muleteer’s had appeared and was now busily discussing a lawsuit. Vespasian made the muleteer tell him just what his shoeing fee would be; and insisted on being paid half. Titus complained of the tax which Vespasian had imposed on the contents of the City urinals (used by the fullers to clean woollens). Vespasian handed him a coin which had been part of the first day’s proceeds: ‘Does it smell bad, my son?’ he asked. ‘No, Father!’ ‘That’s odd: it comes straight from the urinal!’ When a deputation from the Senate reported that a huge and expensive statue had been voted him at public expense, Vespasian held out his hand, with: ‘The pedestal is waiting.’
Nothing could stop this flow of humour, even the fear of imminent death. Among the many portents of his end was a yawning crevice in Augustus’s Mausoleum.103 ‘That will be for Junia Calvina,’ he said, ‘she is one of his descendants.’ And at the fatal sight of a comet he cried: ‘Look at that long hair! The King of Parthia must be going to die.’ His death-bed joke was: ‘Dear me! I must be turning into a god.’
24. During his ninth and last consulship Vespasian visited Campania, and caught undulant fever, though it was not a serious attack. He hurried back to Rome, then went on to Cutilae and his summer retreat near Reiti, where he made things worse by bathing in cold water and getting a stomach chill. Yet he carried on with his Imperial duties as usual, and even received deputations at his bedside; until he almost fainted after a sudden violent bout of diarrhoea, struggled to rise, muttering that an Emperor ought to die at least on his feet, and collapsed in the arms of the attendants who went to his rescue. This was 23 June 79 A.D. and he had lived sixty-nine years, seven months, and seven days.
25. All accounts agree on Vespasian’s supreme confidence in his horoscopes and those of his family. Despite frequent plots to murder him, he dared tell the Senate that either his sons would succeed him or there would be no more Roman Emperors. He is said to have dreamed about a pair of scales hanging in the Hall of the Palace: Claudius and his adopted son Nero, in one pan, were exactly balanced against himself, Titus and Domitian in the other. And this proved an accurate prophecy, since the families were destined to rule for an equal length of time.
XI
TITUS
AFTERWARDS DEIFIED
Titus, surnamed Vespasian like his father, had such winning ways, perhaps inborn, perhaps cultivated subsequently, or conferred on him by fortune—that he became an object of universal love and adoration. Oddly enough this happened only after his accession: both as a private citizen and later as his father’s colleague, Titus had been not only unpopular but venomously loathed. He was born on 30 December 41 A.D., the memorable year of Gaius Caligula’s assassination, in a small, dingy, slum bedroom close to the Seven-storey Tenement. The house, which is still standing, has lately been opened to the public.
2. He grew up at Court with Claudius’s son Britannicus, sharing his teachers and following the same curriculum. The story goes that when one day Claudius’s freedman Narcissus called in a physiognomist to examine Britannicus’s features and prophesy his future, he was told most emphatically that Britannicus would never succeed his father, whereas Titus (who happened to be present) would achieve that distinction. The two boys were such close friends that when Britannicus drank his fatal dose of poison,104 Titus, who was reclining at the same table, is said to have emptied the glass in sympathy and to have been dangerously ill for some time. He never forgot his friendship for Britannicus, but had two statues of him made: a golden one to be installed in the Palace, and an ivory equestrian one which is still carried in the Circus procession, and which he personally followed around the ring at its dedication.
3. When Titus came of age, the beauty and talents that had distinguished him as a child grew even more remarkable. Though not tall, he was both graceful and dignified, both muscular and handsome, except for a certain paunchiness. He had a phenomenal memory, and displayed a natural aptitude alike for the arts of wa
r and peace; handled arms and rode a horse as well as any man living; could compose speeches and verses in Greek or Latin with equal ease, and actually extemporized them on occasion. He was something of a musician, too: sang pleasantly, and had mastered the harp. It often amused him to compete with his secretaries at shorthand dictation, or so I have heard; and he claimed that he could imitate any handwriting in existence and might, in different circumstances, have been the most celebrated forger of all time.
4. Titus’s reputation while an active and efficient colonel in Germany and Britain is attested by the numerous busts and statues of him found in both countries. After completing his military service he returned to Rome where he spent a great deal of time at the law courts as a barrister; but only because he enjoyed pleading cases, not because he meant to make a career of it. The father of his first wife, Arrecina Tertulla, commanded the Guards, the highest post available to a man of equestrian rank. When she died, Titus married the very well-connected Marcia Furnilla, whom he divorced as soon as she had borne him a daughter. When his quaestorship at Rome ended, he went to command one of his father’s legions in Judaea, and there captured the fortified cities of Tarichaeae and Gamala. In the course of the fighting he had a horse killed under him, but mounted another belonging to a comrade who fell at his side.
5. Titus was presently sent to congratulate Galba on his accession, and all whom he met on the way were convinced that Vespasian was trying to get him adopted as Galba’s heir. Seeing, however, that a new revolution threatened in Rome, Titus turned back to consult the oracle of Venus at Paphos, and there heard his own prospects of wearing the purple mentioned again. The prophecy grew much more credible after his father had been acclaimed Emperor and left him to complete the conquest of Judaea. In the final assault on Jerusalem Titus managed to kill twelve of the garrison with successive arrows; and the city was captured on his daughter’s birthday. Titus’s prowess inspired such deep admiration in the troops that they hailed him as Emperor and, on several occasions, when he seemed on the point of relinquishing his command, begged him either to stay or to let them follow him; even threatening violence if he would not humour their wishes. Such passionate devotion aroused a suspicion that he planned to usurp his father’s power in the East, especially since he had worn a diadem while attending the consecration of the Apis bull at Memphis on his way to Alexandria; but this was a gross slander on his conduct, which accorded with ancient ritual. Titus sailed for Italy at once in a naval transport, touching at Reggio and Puteoli. Hurrying on to Rome, he exploded all the false rumours by greeting Vespasian, who had not been expecting him, with the simple words: ‘Here I am, Father, here I am!’
6. He now became his father’s colleague, almost his guardian; sharing in the Judaean triumph, in the Censorship, in the exercise of tribunicial power, and in seven consulships. He bore most of the burdens of government and, as his father’s secretary, dealt with official correspondence, drafted edicts, and even took over the quaestor’s task of reading the Imperial speeches to the Senate. Titus also assumed command of the Guards, a post which had always before been entrusted to a knight, and in which he behaved somewhat high-handedly. If anyone aroused his suspicion, Guards detachments would be sent into theatre or camp to demand the man’s punishment in the name of every loyal citizen present; and he would then be executed on the spot. Titus disposed of Aulus Caecina, an ex-Consul, by inviting him to dinner and having him stabbed on the way out; yet here he could plead political necessity—the manuscript of a disloyal speech which Caecina intended for the troops had fallen into his hands. Actions of this sort, although an insurance against the future, made Titus so deeply disliked at the time that perhaps no more unwelcome claimant to the supreme power has ever won it.
7. He was believed to be profligate as well as cruel, because of the riotous parties which he kept going with his more extravagant friends far into the night; and morally unprincipled, too, because he owned a troop of inverts and eunuchs, and nursed a guilty passion for Queen Berenice,105 to whom he had allegedly promised marriage. He also had a reputation for accepting bribes and not being averse from using influence to settle his father’s cases in favour of the highest bidder. It was even prophesied quite openly that he would prove to be a second Nero. However, this pessimistic view stood him in good stead: so soon as everyone realized that here was no monster of vice but an exceptionally noble character, public opinion flew to the opposite extreme.
His dinner parties, far from being orgies, were very pleasant occasions, and the friends he chose were retained in office by his successors as key men in Imperial and national affairs. He sent Queen Berenice away from Rome, which was painful for both of them; and broke off relations with some of his favourite boys—though they danced well enough to make a name for themselves on the stage, he never attended their public performances.
No Emperor could have been less of a robber than Titus, who showed the greatest respect for private property, and would not even accept the gifts sanctioned by Imperial tradition. Nor had any of his predecessors ever displayed such generosity. At the dedication of the Colosseum106 and the Baths, which had been hastily built beside it, Titus provided a most lavish gladiatorial show; he also staged a sea-fight on the old artificial lake,107 and when the water had been let out, used the basin for further gladiatorial contests and a wild-beast hunt, 5,000 beasts of different sorts dying in a single day.
8. Titus was naturally kind-hearted, and though no Emperor, following Tiberius’s example, had ever consented to ratify individual concessions granted by his predecessor, unless these suited him personally, Titus did not wait to be asked but signed a general edict confirming all such concessions whatsoever. He also had a rule never to dismiss any petitioner without leaving him some hope that his request would be favourably considered. Even when warned by his staff how impossible it would be to make good such promises, Titus maintained that no one ought to go away disappointed from an audience with the Emperor. One evening at dinner, realizing that he had done nobody any favour since the previous night, he spoke these memorable words: ‘My friends, I have wasted a day.’
He took such pains to humour his subjects that, on one occasion, before a gladiatorial show, he promised to forgo his own preferences and let the audience choose what they liked best; and kept his word by refusing no request and encouraging everyone to tell him what each wanted. Yet he openly acknowledged his partisanship of the Thracian school of gladiators, and would gesture and argue vociferously with the crowd on this subject, though never losing either his dignity or his sense of justice. Sometimes he would use the new public baths, as a means of keeping in touch with the people.
Titus’s reign was marked by a series of catastrophes—an eruption of Mount Vesuvius in Campania, a fire at Rome which burned for three days and nights, and one of the worst outbreaks of plague that had ever been known. Throughout these frightful disasters, he showed far more than an Emperor’s concern: it resembled the deep love of a father for his children, which he conveyed not only in a series of comforting edicts but by helping the victims to the utmost extent of his purse. He set up a board of ex-consuls, chosen by lot, to relieve distress in Campania, and devoted the property of those who had died in the eruption and left no heirs to a fund for rebuilding the stricken cities. His only comment on the fire at Rome was: ‘This has ruined me!’ He stripped his own houses of their decorations, distributed these among the damaged temples and public buildings, and appointed a body of knights to see that his orders were promptly carried out. Titus attempted to control the plague by every imaginable means, human as well as divine—resorting to all sorts of sacrifices and medical remedies.
One of the worst features of Roman life at the time was the licence long enjoyed by informers and their managers. Whenever Titus laid his hands on any such he had them well whipped, clubbed, and then taken to the Colosseum and paraded in the arena; where some were put up for auction as slaves and the remainder deported to desert islands. In further discourage
ment of this evil, he allowed nobody to be tried for the same offence under more than one law, and limited the period during which inquiries could be made into the status of dead people.
9. He had promised before his accession to accept the office of Chief Pontiff as a safeguard against committing any crime, and kept his word. Thereafter he was never directly or indirectly responsible for a murder; and, although often given abundant excuse for revenge, swore that he would rather die than take life. Titus dismissed with a caution two patricians convicted of aspiring to the Empire; he told them that since this was a gift of Destiny they would be well advised to renounce their hopes. He also promised them whatever else they wanted, within reason, and hastily sent messengers to reassure the mother of one of the pair, who lived some distance away, that her son was safe. Then he invited them to dine among his friends; and, the next day, to sit close by him during the gladiatorial show, where he asked them to test the blades of the contestants’ swords brought to him for inspection. Finally, the story goes, he consulted the horoscopes of both men and warned them what dangers threatened from unexpected quarters—quite correctly, as events proved.
Titus’s brother Domitian caused him endless trouble: took part in conspiracies, stirred up disaffection in the armed forces almost openly, and toyed with the notion of escaping from Rome and putting himself at their head. Yet Titus had not the heart to execute Domitian, dismiss him from Court, or even treat him less honourably than before. Instead, he continued to repeat, as on the first day of his reign: ‘Remember that you are my partner and chosen successor’; and often took Domitian aside, begging him tearfully to return the affection he offered.