*
IT was about now that Marcus Scribonius Libo Drusus was accused of subversive plotting. Since this case initiated an evil which for many years corroded public life, I will give details of its beginnings, progress, and conclusion. Libo was a fatuous young man with a taste for absurdities. One of his closest friends, a junior senator named Firmius Catus, interested him in astrologers’ predictions, magicians’ rites, and readers of dreams. Catus reminded Libo that the Caesars were his cousins – besides being a great-grandson of Pompey, he was grand-nephew of Scribonia, at one time the wife of Augustus – and that his own house, too, was full of ancestral statues.
By encouraging Libo’s extravagances and debts and sharing his dissipations and embarrassments, Catus accumulated damning evidence. When he had collected enough witnesses – including slaves to corroborate the account – he requested an interview with the emperor. Tiberius already knew who was accused, and why, through a knight, Vescularius Flaccus, who was more intimate with the emperor than Catus was. Tiberius did not refuse the information of Catus but declined personal contact, indicating that they could continue to communicate through the knight as intermediary. Meanwhile he made Libo praetor and invited him to dinner. No unfriendliness was apparent in Tiberius’ expression or talk. His malevolence was completely concealed. He could have stopped all Libo’s actions and words. Instead, he preferred to note them.
Finally, however, a certain Junius whom Libo had approached to practise necromancy reported him to Lucius Fulcinius Trio, a man known for his talents as a prosecutor – and eager for notoriety. Trio immediately pounced on Libo, applied to the consuls, and demanded an inquiry by the senate: which was summoned, to discuss (it was added) a grave and terrible matter. Meanwhile Libo put on mourning and, with an escort of aristocratic ladies, went from house to house appealing to his wife’s relatives and seeking for an advocate in his perilous position. Everyone refused. Their excuses were different, but they were all afraid. On the day of the meeting he was prostrate with fear and ill-health (possibly, as some said, assumed), and had to be carried in a litter to the senate-house door. Leaning on his brother’s arm he stretched out his hand to Tiberius and cried for mercy. The emperor, without altering his expression, read out the accusation and its signatures in a toneless voice calculated neither to aggravate nor to extenuate the charges.
Trio and Catus had now been joined by further accusers, Fonteius Agrippa and Gaius Vibius Serenus (I). They all competed for the principal speech. Finally, as none of them would give way and Libo was undefended, Vibius announced that he would take the charges one by one; and he produced the documents. They were preposterous. In one, Libo asked a fortune-teller if he would become rich enough to pave the Via Appia with money as far as Brundisium. Other stupidities were equally pointless – indeed, if indulgently regarded, pitiable. But in one paper, mysterious or sinister marks against the names of imperial personages and senators were alleged by the prosecutor to be in Libo’s handwriting. Libo denied this. But slaves identified his hand; and it was decided to interrogate them under torture. Since, however, there was an ancient senatorial decree forbidding such investigations of slaves in capital charges against their masters, Tiberius – by an astute legal innovation – ordered the slaves to be sold individually to the Treasury Agent. And all this in order to use slaves’ evidence against a man of Libo’s position, without infringing a senatorial decree!
The defendant thereupon requested an adjournment until the following day, and left for his home. He entrusted his relative Publius Sulpicius Quirinius with a final appeal to Tiberius. The emperor’s answer was that Libo should apply to the senate. Meanwhile his house was surrounded by Guardsmen. The sound and sight of them, clanking about in front of the door, plagued the dinner-party which Libo had arranged as his last pleasure on earth. Gripping his slaves’ hands and thrusting his sword into their grasp, he cried out for someone to kill him. The slaves shrank away in terror, and knocked over the table-lamp. For Libo it was the darkness of death. He stabbed himself twice in the stomach, and fell moaning. Ex-slaves ran up. The soldiers saw he was dead, and left.
In the senate, however, the prosecution continued with undiminished earnestness. Tiberius pronounced on oath that, whatever Libo’s guilt, he himself would have interceded for his life if he had not so hastily killed himself. Libo’s property was divided among the accusers, and those of them who were senators received supernumerary praetorships. Then Marcus Aurelius Cotta Maximus Messallinus proposed that Libo’s statue should be excluded from his descendants’ funeral-parades, and Cnaeus Cornelius Lentulus (II) that no Scribonius should ever again bear the name of Drusus. On the motion of Lucius Pomppnius Flaccus, days were appointed for public thanksgiving. Lucius Munatius Plancus, Gaius Asinius Gallus, Marcus Papius Mutilus, and Lucius Apronius voted thank-offerings to Jupiter, Mars, and Concord, and a resolution that 13 September – the day of Libo’s suicide – should become a public holiday. I have listed these distinguished proposers and their servilities to show how long ago this national disgrace started. The senate also ordered the expulsion of astrologers and magicians from Italy. One, Lucius Pituanius, was thrown from the Tarpeian Rock, another, Publius Marcius, executed by the consuls in traditional fashion to the sound of the bugle, outside the Esquiline Gate.
At the senate’s next meeting Quintus Haterius and Octavius Pronto, a former consul and praetor respectively, denounced current extravagance. The use of gold plate for private entertainments was prohibited, and so were the silk clothes into which male costume had degenerated. Fronto went further and demanded restrictions on silver plate, furniture, and slaves. (It was still a usual practice for senators, when their turn came to speak, to put forward any matter that they believed to be in the public interest.) Gaius Asinius Gallus spoke in opposition. ‘The extension of the empire’, he argued, ‘has meant the growth of private fortunes. This is nothing new; indeed it is in keeping with the most ancient history. Wealth meant one thing to the Fabricii, another to the Scipios. It must be judged in relation to the country. When the nation was poor, people’s houses were small. In its present grandeur individuals, too, expand.
‘In slaves, plate, or any other article for use, the only criterion of moderation or excess is the owner’s means. Senators and knights have special property qualifications, not because they are intrinsically different, but because their precedence in station, rank, and honours warrants special provision for their mental and physical well-being. Otherwise leading men would have all the worries and dangers, and none of their compensations.’ This euphemistic admission of debauchery readily won his audience, since extravagance was widespread. Moreover, Tiberius had observed that this was not the time for a censorship: but if morality deteriorated, he said, his services as reformer would be available.
At this meeting Lucius Calpurnius Piso (II) denounced official sharp practices – corruption in the courts, and bullying by advocates, with their continual threats of prosecution. He himself was going to leave Rome, he said, and retire to some remote, inaccessible country place. Then he proceeded to walk out of the senate-house. Tiberius was upset and made every effort to mollify Piso, besides requesting his relations to use their influence and entreat him to stay.
Soon afterwards Lucius Piso gave another, equally remarkable display of outspoken indignation. For he summoned to court Urgulania, whose friendship with the Augusta had placed her above the law. Urgulania defied Lucius Piso, refused to obey, and drove to the palace. Thereupon the Augusta complained that it was an insult to her dignity. However, Lucius Piso persisted. Tiberius decided that, without acting autocratically, he could back his mother up to the point of promising to appear before the praetor and support Urgulania. Ordering his military escort to follow at a distance, he left the palace, and was seen by the crowd walking composedly and discussing various matters to pass the time. But Lucius Piso’s relatives could not induce him to desist – and the Augusta gave instructions that the sum demanded should be paid. Thus ended an incident which did Lucius Piso credit and increased the emperor’s popularity. However, Urgulania’s influence remained so excessive that on one occasion, when she was summoned to the senate as witness in a case, she refused to attend. A praetor was dispatched to interrogate her at her home – though even priestesses of Vesta traditionally attend legal proceedings in the Forum to give evidence.
The senate’s adjournment this year is only noteworthy because of the dispute regarding it between Gaius Asinius Gallus and Cnaeus Calpurnius Piso. Tiberius had said he would be away. But Cnaeus Piso considered this an additional reason for business to continue, it being in the public interest that senate and knights should be able to undertake their proper duties in the emperor’s absence. Gallus, forestalled by Piso in the display of independence, protested that to conduct business without the emperor’s presence and supervision was incompatible with the national dignity; so the numerous Italian and provincial visitors ought to await his presence. Tiberius listened in silence as the argument raged. Finally, the adjournment was carried.
A dispute next arose between Gallus and the emperor. Gallus moved that officials should be elected five years in advance, and praetorships should immediately be earmarked for major-generals who had not yet held them, the emperor nominating twelve candidates a year. This proposal obviously had profound implications attacking the whole unspoken premises of autocracy. But Tiberius replied as if the suggestion actually envisaged an enlargement of his powers. He could not presume, he said, to make so many selections and postponements – even the annual system easily caused offence, but its rebuffs were mitigated by hopes of an early reversal. Rejection for five years would indeed cause ill-feeling. ‘So far ahead’, protested Tiberius, ‘a man’s attitude, family connections, and resources are unpredictable. Even when nomination is one year before office, men become haughty in the interval – what if they had five years of putting on airs? The proposal invalidates the laws establishing time-tables for canvassing, and seeking or holding office. It also virtually multiplies officials fivefold.’ This speech had a popular ring. But its effect was to safeguard Tiberrius’ dominant position.
He also gave certain senators financial assistance. So it was curious that he dealt high-handedly with the appeal of Marcus Hortensius Hortalus, a young nobleman who was obviously poor. Hortalus was a grandson of the orator Quintus Hortensius, and had been persuaded by a grant of a million sesterces from Augustus to marry and have children, thus preventing the extinction of his famous family. When Hortalus’ affairs were debated in the senate and his turn came to speak, his four sons were posted at the door of the hall. Hortalus turned towards the statue of Augustus, and also to that of Hortensius among the orators (for they were meeting on the Palatine). ‘Senators,’ he cried, ‘these boys – you see how numerous they are – have been brought up at the emperor’s wish, not mine. And he was right; for my ancestors deserved to have descendants! In these changed days, I myself have not been able to inherit or acquire money, or popularity, or even our family characteristic – eloquence. If my small resources neither disgraced me nor encumbered others, I was content. Then I married, because the emperor told me to. Behold the descendants of all those consuls and dictators! I say this in no competitive spirit but to arouse your compassion. Under your glorious rule, Caesar, they will win whatever honours you choose to give. Meanwhile I beg you to save from destitution the great-grandsons of Quintus Hortensius, the protégés of the deified Augustus.’
The senate received this so favourably that the emperor lost no time in objecting. ‘If every poor man is to come here’, he said in effect, ‘and start requesting money for his children, the applicants will never be satisfied and the nation’s finances will collapse. When our ancestors authorized senators to digress sometimes from their subject-matter and raise matters of public importance when it was their turn to speak, this was not to enable us to promote our private interests and personal finances. Such attempts are invidious for senate and emperors alike, whether they grant the subsidies or refuse.
‘Besides, this is not an appeal but an ultimatum – and an unforeseen and untimely one. A member interrupts a session – convened for other purposes – by rising and embarrassing the senate with a list of his children and their ages! I am involved, and a determined attempt is made on the Treasury. But if we empty it by favouritism, we shall need criminal methods to fill it. Hortalus: the divine Augustus gave you money, but he did so spontaneously – and with no guarantee of a permanent supply. For permanent concessions would mean an end of all effort and all enterprise, because their incentives, fear and ambition, would be gone. Everyone would look irresponsibly elsewhere for relief, without lifting a finger for himself – a dead weight on the community.’
This sort of argument was applauded by those who habitually applaud emperors, right or wrong. But the majority received it in silence or with suppressed mutters. Tiberius perceived this. After a pause, he announced that, though he had given the applicant his answer, he would, if the senate approved, bestow two hundred thousand sesterces on each of Hortalus’ male children. There were grateful acknowledgements. But Hortalus said nothing. Perhaps he was frightened. Or perhaps, even in his reduced circumstances, he preserved some inherited dignity. The house of the Hortensii continued to sink into abject destitution. But Tiberius showed it no further pity.
In the same year, the country was nearly plunged into the horrors of civil war by the daring of a single slave – only prompt measures prevented disaster. He was called Clemens. He had belonged to Agrippa Postumus, and when he heard of Augustus’ death he had formed the very un-slave-like scheme of proceeding to the island of Planasia, rescuing Agrippa Postumus by force or a trick, and conducting him to the armies in Germany. The slowness of a cargo-boat upset his plans: when he arrived his master had already been assassinated. Then Clemens fell back on a more ambitious and desperate project. He stole Agrippa’s ashes, and proceeded to Cosa on a promontory of Etruria, where he hid himself until his hair and beard had grown. For in age and appearance he resembled his master.
Then selected companions from his hiding-place spread the rumour that Agrippa Postumus was alive. It was first whispered secretly, as forbidden stories are. Then the news spread to every fool with cocked ears, every subversive malcontent. Clemens himself would appear in a town after dark. He never showed himself openly or stayed in one place; no sooner was he heard of than he was gone, to spread the rumour in a new place. Publicity and immobility bring out the truth too clearly – impostures need mystery and movement.
So the story that, by heaven’s intervention, Agrippa Postumus was safe, spread throughout Italy. It had believers at Rome. Great crowds welcomed Clemens at Ostia – and met him secretly in the capital. Tiberius was in two minds whether to use the army to suppress his own slave or to let time eliminate the naïve public credulity. At one moment he was alarmed, and felt that no measure should be omitted. At another, he would reflect ashamedly that all things were not terrifying.
Finally he entrusted the matter to Gaius Sallustius Crispus. The latter selected two of his own dependants – soldiers according to some accounts – and instructed them to approach Clemens and, pretending complicity, to offer him money and support, come what might. They carried out their instructions. Then, awaiting a night when Clemens was unguarded, they took an adequate detachment, bound and gagged him, and brought him to the palace. When Tiberius asked how he had made himself into Agrippa Postumus, Clemens is reported to have answered: ‘As you made yourself into a Caesar.’ He could not be compelled to reveal his associates. Tiberius dared not execute him publicly, but ordered him to be killed in a secluded part of the palace, and his body to be removed secretly. Many members of the emperor’s household, and also senators and knights, were alleged to have advised and subsidized Clemens. But no inquiries followed.
At the end of this year an arch was dedicated near the temple of Saturn celebrating the recapture, under the leadership of Germanicus and the auspices of Tiberius, of the Eagles lost with Varus. Other dedications included a temple of Fors Fortuna near the Tiber – in the gardens which the dictator Caesar had left to the nation – and a shrine to the Julian house and statue of the divine Augustus at Bovillae.1
In the following year the consuls were Gaius Caelius Rufus and Lucius Pomponius Flaccus. On 26 May Germanicus celebrated a triumph over the Cherusci, Chatti, Angrivarii, and all other German tribes this side of the Elbe. The procession included spoils, prisoners, and pictures of mountains, rivers, and battles. The war, which he had not been allowed to complete, was regarded as terminated. Attention was riveted on the splendid figure of the commander, accompanied by five children in his chariot. And yet there were unspoken misgivings. Men recalled that popularity had not helped his father Nero Drusus. And that great favourite his uncle, Marcellus, had been carried off at an early age. The loves of the Romans seemed brief and ill-omened.
In the name of Germanicus, the emperor distributed three hundred sesterces a head to the population, and proposed to serve personally as his fellow-consul. But people did not believe his affection was sincere. Next he decided to find honourable excuses for the young man’s elimination. Some pretexts were invented, others happened to be available. Archelaus had been king of Cappadocia for fifty years. He was hated by Tiberius, to whom, during the. latter’s residence at Rhodes, he had shown no attention. This omission had not been intended insultingly, but was prompted by associates of Augustus, because while Gaius Caesar was in the ascendant and on a mission to the East it had been considered inadvisable to be Tiberius’ friend.
However, the house of the Caesars became extinct, and Tiberius reigned. He now made his mother write luring Archelaus to Rome. She did not conceal her son’s resentment but held out hopes of indulgence if he came to beg for it. He came without delay, being either unsuspicious of treachery or afraid of suffering violence if he showed he anticipated it. The emperor’s reception of Archelaus was unrelenting, and before long he was prosecuted before the senate. He was worn out, not by the charges – which were fictitious – but by distress and old age. Kings are not used even to equality, much less to subordination. So Archelaus died, by his own hand or the course of nature. His kingdom was turned into a province; and the emperor announced that its revenue enabled him to reduce the 1 per cent auction tax, which was fixed at 
per cent for the future.
At about the same time Commagene and Amanus were unsettled by the deaths of their dependent kings, Antiochus Epiphanes III and Philopator II respectively. Royal rule still had some supporters, but most of the inhabitants wanted annexation by Rome. Other problems had arisen in Syria and Judaea, where the provincials were finding their financial burdens oppressive and petitioning for a reduction of direct taxation.
These developments, and the Armenian situation mentioned above, were brought before the senate by Tiberius. The eastern troubles, he said, could only be put right by the wisdom of Germanicus. For he himself, he said, was of advancing years, whereas Drusus was not yet sufficiently mature. So the senate entrusted the overseas provinces to Germanicus, with powers superior (wherever he might go) to those of all governors of imperial and senatorial provinces alike. But Tiberius had removed Syria’s imperial governor Quintus Caecilius Metellus Creticus Silanus (who had betrothed his daughter to Germanicus’ eldest son, Nero Caesar), replacing him by Cnaeus Calpurnius Piso. This ferocious, insubordinate man inherited his violent character from his father (of the same name), who during the civil war had vigorously helped the revived Republican party in Africa against Julius Caesar, and then supported Brutus and Cassius. Nevertheless he had been allowed to return to Rome; at first he had not sought office, but finally, when Augustus personally solicited him to take the consulship, he accepted it. In addition to his father’s spirit, Piso had his wife Plancina’s lineage and wealth to spur him on. He grudgingly allowed Tiberius first place, but looked down on Tiberius’ children as far beneath him.
Piso was certain that the purpose of his Syrian appointment was the repression of Germanicus’ ambitions, According to one view, he received secret instructions from Tiberius to that effect. Plancina certainly received advice from the Augusta, whose feminine jealousy was set on persecuting Agrippina. For the court was disunited, split by unspoken partisanships for Drusus or Germanicus. Tiberius supported Drusus, as the son of his own blood. But the popularity of Germanicus had increased, partly owing to his uncle’s hostility, and partly because his mother’s family gave him precedence. He could point to Augustus as great-uncle and Antony as grandfather, whereas Drusus was great-grandson of a knight, Titus Pomponius Atticuas,1 who hardly added lustre to the Claudian genealogy. Besides, Germanicus’ wife Agrippina was more distinguished than Drusus’ wife Livilla – and had more children. However, the brothers were good friends, unperturbed by the rivalries around them.
Drusus was now sent to Illyricum, to be introduced to army life – and win favour among the troops. Tiberius also considered that the camp would be better for him than his present frivolous life of juvenile extravagance in Rome. Besides, he himself would feel safer with both his sons commanding armies.
But the pretext for Drusus’ departure was an appeal by the Suebi for help against the Cherusci. For now that the Romans had gone and there was no external threat, national custom and rivalry had turned the Germans against one another. The two nations were well matched in strength, and their leaders equally capable. But the Suebi did not like the royal title of their leader Maroboduus, whereas Arminius was popular as champion of freedom. So in addition to his old soldiers – the Cherusci and their allies – two Suebian tribes, the Semnones and Langobardi, from the kingdom of Maroboduus also entered the war on Arminius’ side. These additions looked like turning the scale. However, Inguiomerus and a group of his followers deserted to the Suebi, merely because the old man was too proud to serve under his young nephew.
Each army had high hopes as it drew up for battle. The old German unsystematic battle-order and chaotic charges were things of the past. Their long wars against Rome had taught them to follow the standards, keep troops in reserve, and obey commands. Arminius rode round inspecting his whole army. He reminded each unit, as he came to it, that freedom was back again, that they had annihilated Roman armies – that many of his men were actually carrying Roman spoils and spears. He denounced Maroboduus as a runaway who, lurking in the Hercynian forest without a single fight, had begged Rome for peace with presents and deputations. ‘He is a traitor, an imperial agent!’ cried Arminius. ‘Eject him as fiercely as you killed Varus. Remember all those battles and their result – the expulsion of the Romans. That shows who won!’
Maroboduus too spoke, praising himself and reviling the enemy. Grasping Inguiomerus by the hand, he credited him with all the glory of the Cherusci – the brain behind their successes. Arminius, he said, was a senseless inexperienced man who took the credit due to others because he had treacherously trapped three straggling divisions and an unsuspecting commander, an action disastrous to Germany and dishonourable to Arminius himself, since his wife and son were still in slavery. ‘But I myself,’ he continued, ‘when attacked by twelve divisions under Tiberius, maintained German honour unblemished. We parted on equal terms!1 As regards Rome we have the choice, I am proud to say, between war with our resources intact, and peace without oppression.’
Besides these speeches, the armies had motives of their own to excite them. The Cherusci had the glorious past to fight for, and their new allies, the Langobardi, their freshly acquired freedom from the Suebi. Their enemy’s aim was expansion. Never had a result been so unpredictable. Both right wings were routed. However, instead of renewing the battle, as was expected, Maroboduus transferred his camp to the hills. This showed he was beaten. Then, weakened by a series of desertions, he retreated to the territory of the Marcomanni and sent a delegation to Tiberius requesting help. The answer was that, since he had not helped Rome against the Cherusci, he was not justified in claiming Roman support against them. However Drusus, as I have said, was sent to establish peaceful conditions.
In the same year twelve famous cities in the province of Asia were overwhelmed by an earthquake. Its occurrence at night increased hte surprise and destruction. Open ground – the usual refuge on such occasions – afforded no escape, because the earth parted and swallowed the fugitives. There are stories of big mountains subsiding, of flat ground rising high in the air, of conflagrations bursting out among the debris. Sardis suffered worst and attracted most sympathy. Tiberius promised it ten million sesterces and remitted all taxation by the Treasury or its imperially controlled branches for five years. Magnesia-by-Sipylus came next, in damage and compensation. Exemptions from direct taxation were also authorized for Temnus, Philadelphia, Aegeae, Apollonis, Mostene (the Macedonian Hyrcanians), Hierocaesarea, Myrina, Cyme, and Tmolus. It was decided to send a senatorial inspector to rehabilitate the sufferers. The choice fell on an ex-praetor, Marcus Aletius. The governor of Asia was a former consul, so the embarrassments of rivalry between equals were avoided.
Tiberius supplemented this impressive official generosity by an equally welcome private benefaction. The wealthy Aemilia Musa died intestate, and her property was claimed for the emperor. But he transferred it to Marcus Aemilius Lepidus (IV), with whose house she was apparently connected. Again, when a rich member of the order of knights named Pantuleius died, Tiberius was named as one of the legatees; but he handed over the whole property on finding that an earlier and evidently authentic will had named Marcus Servilius Nonianus (I) sole heir. Moreover, he refused to accept any bequests which he had not earned by friendship. He had no truck with strangers, or with people who named the emperor their heir because they had quarrelled with others.
While relieving honourable and unoffending poverty, he removed from the senate (or allowed to resign) persons whose means had vanished through extravagance or misbehaviour, namely Vibidius Virro, Marius Nepos, Appius Appianus, Cornelius Sulla, and Quintus Vitellius.
In this period, too, he dedicated certain temples which Augustus had begun to restore when they had decayed or been burnt down. These were the temples of Liber, Libera, and Ceres near the Circus Maximus (vowed by Aulus Postumius Tubertus and Marcus Poblicius Malleolus when they were aediles); and of Janus (built in the vegetable market by Gaius Duilius, who gained the first Roman naval victory – over the Carthaginians – and won a Triumph for it). The temple of Hope, which Aulus Atilius Calatinus had vowed in the same war, was consecrated by Germanicus.1
Meanwhile, the treason law was maturing. Appuleia Varilla2 was charged under it for speaking insultingly about the divine Augustus (whose sister was her aunt), as well as about Tiberius and his mother, and for committing adultery. The latter offence was ruled to be a matter for the Julian adultery law.3 As regards the treason, Tiberius insisted on a distinction between disrespectful remarks about Augustus — for which she should be condemned – and about himself, on which he desired no inquiry to be held. Asked by the consul what his ruling was about Appuleia’s alleged slanders against his mother, he did not reply. But at the next meeting of the senate he requested in his mother’s name also that no words uttered against her should in any circumstances be made the subject of a charge. He released Appuleia from liability under the treason law. For her adultery he deprecated the severer penalty, but recommended that according to traditional practice her relatives should remove her two hundred miles from Rome. Her lover, Manlius by name, was banned from Italy and Africa.
When the praetor Vipstanus Gallus died, the appointment of his substitute was disputed. Germanicus and Drusus, who were still both at Rome, supported Decimus Haterius Agrippa, who was related to Germanicus. However, it was strongly urged – and was legally correct – that the number of the candidates’ children should be the decisive factor. Tiberius enjoyed seeing the senate divided between his sons and the law. Naturally the law lost, but it took time and the majority was small; and after all, that is how laws had been overruled even when they still meant something.
In the same year war broke out in the province of Africa, under a Numidian leader called Tacfarinas. He had deserted from service as a Roman auxiliary. His first followers were vagabonds and marauders who came for loot. Then he organized them into army units and formations, and was finally recognized as the chief, no longer of an undisciplined gang, but of the Musulamian people – a powerful nomad tribe on the edge of the African desert. Taking up arms, they brought in the neighbouring Mauretanians, under their leader Mazippa. Their army was in two parts. Tacfarinas retained in camp an élite force equipped in Roman fashion, which he instructed in discipline and obedience; while Mazippa’s light-armed troops burnt, killed, and intimidated. The substantial tribe of the Cinithii came over to the rebels.
At this stage Marcus Furius Camillus, governor of Africa, confronted Tacfarinas with his Roman brigade and its auxiliaries. Though this was a small army compared to the masses of Numidians and Mauretanians, his chief concern was to prevent the enemy from cautiously evading battle. Actually, the Africans were optimistic – and this lured them into an unsuccessful engagement. The Roman brigade was posted in the centre, the auxiliary infantry battalions and two cavalry regiments on the wings. Tacfarinas accepted the challenge, and the Numidians were routed. After centuries the Furian family had won military glory again. For ever since the great Marcus1 to whom Rome had owed its revival, and his son Lucius, success in the field had passed to other families; and the present commander was believed to be no general. So Tiberius was all the readier to praise his victory in the senate. Camillus was voted an honorary Triumph – and lived so unassumingly that he survived it.