aware of it — he had already decided that Marcellus and Julia should marry. In that way he would, he fondly thought, continue to possess the two people the immature side of his nature most adored. (It was a different, and more worthy, side that loved Livia.) He was asking for the impossible of course, forgetting that neither could remain eighteen.
He loved to question us in the evening, to extract our views on life, and then try to correct them; he has always been a natural teacher. He told us that the business of government was service. "The only satisfaction," he said, "is the work itself. The only reward, the ability to continue the work. It is our task to bring law and civilisation to the barbarians. The true heroes of our empire are the countless administrators whom history will never know . . ."
I was fascinated. This was a different Augustus I was seeing. I realised for the first time how my mother diminished him; in her presence he would never have dared speak as if he had authority. Men, I said to myself, become fully themselves when they are away from women: in the camp, at their office, feeling responsible for action, for decisions which determine life and death. But Marcellus was bored. He interrupted:
"Caesar invaded the island of Britain, didn't he?"
If I had interrupted in such a manner which showed that I had p aid no attention to what he had been saying, he would have r eproved me. But he beamed at Marcellus and laughed:
"You know he did. You've read his memoirs, haven't you . . ? "
Marcellus groaned.
"Not much of them. He's awfully dull, you know."
"I can see how you might think so," he stretched over and umpled my cousin's hair. "Is that your opinion too?" he asked.
"He's admirably lucid," I said, "and I've no experience of zourse, but I find his descriptions of battles very convincing, except for one thing. He's always the hero. Was he really like that , sir?"
He smiled at us, as if thinking. I nibbled a radish. Marcellus t ook a swig of wine. Then, before Augustus could speak, he said:
"I do like the sound of Britain, there are pearls there and the warriors paint themselves blue. They must look funny, but despite that, it seems they can f ight a bit. Why don't we carry o n Caesar's work and conquer the island?"
"What do you think, Tiberius . . . ?"
I hesitated, to show that my op inion was well considered. But I had no doubt:
"It seems to me that we have enough trouble with the empire as it is. I think it may be big enough. Wouldn't we be best to consolidate before we bite off any more . . . ?"
And what was Marcellus' reaction to this good sense?
He called me an old woman. If we'd been alone I might have said that it was better to talk like an old woman than a silly girl, but in the circumstances I only smiled.
To my surprise, Augustus agreed with me.
"Caesar was an adventurer," he said. "I'm not. The conquest of Britain would be worthless, for the island is covered in fog and there's little evidence that the pearl fisheries are of much value . . ."
Marcellus sighed. "It would be such an adventure," and Augustus laughed and rumpled his hair again.
2
A ugustus was from the first, by nature, a dynast. The word is Greek and means a man of power. It was on account of his single-minded pursuit of power that he triumphed in the civil wars; it was that pursuit which forced the war against Antony and Cleopatra on the Roman people. Yet he was never even a competent soldier. He owed his victories to Marcus Agrippa, and to the goddess Fortune.
I didn't appreciate Agrippa till he became my father-in-law. I can't reproach myself for failing to do so. It would have been more remarkable if I had understood his genius, for he was everything I distrusted by nature: rough, uncouth, with a strong provincial accent, and given to laughing loudly at his own (poor) jokes. He had that taste for bawdy stories which is such a useful means of creating good-feeling between men; it is my ill-fortune that I am
He loved to question us in the evening, to extract our views on life, and then try to correct them; he has always been a natural teacher. He told us that the business of government was service. "The only satisfaction," he said, "is the work itself. The only reward, the ability to continue the work. It is our task to bring law and civilisation to the barbarians. The true heroes of our empire are the countless administrators whom history will never know . . ."
I was fascinated. This was a different Augustus I was seeing. I realised for the first time how my mother diminished him; in her presence he would never have dared speak as if he had authority. Men, I said to myself, become fully themselves when they are away from women: in the camp, at their office, feeling responsible for action, for decisions which determine life and death. But Marcellus was bored. He interrupted:
"Caesar invaded the island of Britain, didn't he?"
If I had interrupted in such a manner which showed that I had p aid no attention to what he had been saying, he would have r eproved me. But he beamed at Marcellus and laughed:
"You know he did. You've read his memoirs, haven't you . . ? "
Marcellus groaned.
"Not much of them. He's awfully dull, you know."
"I can see how you might think so," he stretched over and umpled my cousin's hair. "Is that your opinion too?" he asked.
"He's admirably lucid," I said, "and I've no experience of zourse, but I find his descriptions of battles very convincing, except for one thing. He's always the hero. Was he really like that , sir?"
He smiled at us, as if thinking. I nibbled a radish. Marcellus t ook a swig of wine. Then, before Augustus could speak, he said:
"I do like the sound of Britain, there are pearls there and the warriors paint themselves blue. They must look funny, but despite that, it seems they can f ight a bit. Why don't we carry o n Caesar's work and conquer the island?"
"What do you think, Tiberius . . . ?"
I hesitated, to show that my op inion was well considered. But I had no doubt:
"It seems to me that we have enough trouble with the empire as it is. I think it may be big enough. Wouldn't we be best to consolidate before we bite off any more . . . ?"
And what was Marcellus' reaction to this good sense?
He called me an old woman. If we'd been alone I might have said that it was better to talk like an old woman than a silly girl, but in the circumstances I only smiled.
To my surprise, Augustus agreed with me.
"Caesar was an adventurer," he said. "I'm not. The conquest of Britain would be worthless, for the island is covered in fog and there's little evidence that the pearl fisheries are of much value . . ."
Marcellus sighed. "It would be such an adventure," and Augustus laughed and rumpled his hair again.
2
A ugustus was from the first, by nature, a dynast. The word is Greek and means a man of power. It was on account of his single-minded pursuit of power that he triumphed in the civil wars; it was that pursuit which forced the war against Antony and Cleopatra on the Roman people. Yet he was never even a competent soldier. He owed his victories to Marcus Agrippa, and to the goddess Fortune.
I didn't appreciate Agrippa till he became my father-in-law. I can't reproach myself for failing to do so. It would have been more remarkable if I had understood his genius, for he was everything I distrusted by nature: rough, uncouth, with a strong provincial accent, and given to laughing loudly at his own (poor) jokes. He had that taste for bawdy stories which is such a useful means of creating good-feeling between men; it is my ill-fortune that I am
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