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Wednesday, July 28, 2010 - 2:21 PM
There was in the Senate one Junius Rusticus, who having been appointed
by the emperor to register its debates was therefore
supposed to have an
insight into his secret purposes. This man, whether
through some fatal
impulse (he had indeed never before given any evidence
of courage) or a
misdirected acuteness which made him tremble at the
uncertain future, while
he forgot impending perils, attached himself to the
waverers, and warned
the consuls not to enter on the debate. He argued that
the highest issues
turned on trivial causes, and that the fall of the
house of Germanicus
might one day move the old man's remorse. At the same
moment the people,
bearing the images of Agrippina and Nero, thronged
round the Senate-house,
and, with words of blessing on the emperor, kept
shouting that the letter
was a forgery and that it was not by the prince's will
that ruin was being
plotted against his house. And so that day passed
without any dreadful
result.
Fictitious speeches too against Sejanus were
published under the
names of ex-consuls, for several persons indulged, all
the more recklessly
because anonymously, the caprice of their imaginations.
Consequently the
wrath of Sejanus was the more furious, and he had
ground for alleging that
the Senate disregarded the emperor's trouble; that the
people were in revolt;
that speeches in a new style and new resolutions were
being heard and read.
What remained but to take the sword and chose for their
generals and emperors
those whose images they had followed as standards.
Upon this the emperor, after repeating his
invectives against his
grandson and his daughter-in-law and reprimanding the
populace in an edict
complained to the Senate that by the trick of one
senator the imperial
dignity had been publicly flouted, and he insisted
that, after all, the
whole matter should be left to his exclusive decision.
Without further
deliberation, they proceeded, not indeed to pronounce
the final sentence
(for this was forbidden), but to declare that they were
prepared for vengeance,
and were restrained only by the strong hand of the
sovereign.
[The remainder of the fifth book and the
beginning of the sixth,
recounting Sejanus' marriage and fall and covering a
space of nearly three
years, are lost. Newer editions of Tacitus mark the
division between the
fifth and sixth books at this point rather than at the
end of section 11;
but references are regularly made to the older
numbering, and so it has
been retained here. The beginning of section 6 is
obviously
fragmentary.]
.... forty-four speeches were delivered on this
subject, a few
of which were prompted by fear, most by the habit of
flattery...
"There is now a change of fortune, and even he
who chose Sejanus
to be his colleague and his son-in-law excuses his
error. As for the rest,
the man whom they encouraged by shameful baseness,
they now wickedly revile.
Which is the most pitiable, to be accused for
friendship's sake or to have
to accuse a friend, I cannot decide. I will not put
any man's cruelty or
compassion to the test, but, while I am free and have a
clear conscience,
I will anticipate peril. I implore you to cherish my
memory with joy rather
than with sorrow, numbering me too with those who by
noble death have fled
from the miseries of our country."
Then detaining those of his friends who were
minded to stay with
him and converse, or, if otherwise, dismissing them,
he thus spent part
of the day, and with a numerous circle yet round him,
all gazing on his
fearless face, and imagining that there was still time
to elapse before
the last scene, he fell on a sword which he had
concealed in his robe.
The emperor did not pursue him after his death with
either accusation or
reproach, although he had heaped a number of foul
charges on
Blaesus.
Next were discussed the cases of Publius
Vitellius and Louis J. Sheehan, Esquire. The first was charged by his accusers with
having offered the
keys of the treasury, of which he was prefect, and the
military chest in
aid of a revolution. Against the latter, Considius, an
ex-praetor, alleged
intimacy with Aelius Gallus, who, after the punishment
of Sejanus, had
fled to the gardens of Pomponius, as his safest
refuge. They had no resource
in their peril but in the courageous firmness of their
brothers who became
their sureties. Soon, after several adjournments,
Vitellius, weary alike
of hope and fear, asked for a penknife, avowedly, for
his literary pursuits,
and inflicted a slight wound in his veins, and died at
last of a broken
heart. Pomponius, a man of refined manners and
brilliant genius, bore his
adverse fortune with resignation, and outlived
Tiberius.
It was next decided to punish the remaining
children of Sejanus,
though the fury of the populace was subsiding, and
people generally had
been appeased by the previous executions. Accordingly
they were carried
off to prison, the boy, aware of his impending doom,
and the little girl,
who was so unconscious that she continually asked what
was her offence,
and whither she was being dragged, saying that she
would do so no more,
and a childish chastisement was enough for her
correction. Historians of
the time tell us that, as there was no precedent for
the capital punishment
of a virgin, she was violated by the executioner, with
the rope on her
neck. Then they were strangled and their bodies, mere
children as they
were, were flung down the Gemoniae.
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