neither our vices nor their remedies". I was myself called upon to prosecute Caepio, which I did with an efficiency which was admired by many, at least in public, and a dismay which I sought to conceal.
That year I married Vipsania. We had been betrothed for many years and I had accustomed myself to the idea that we would be man and wife. At one time I had rebelled against the prospect. It seemed an unsuitable match for a Claudian. But I had reconciled myself when I came to know her father Agrippa, and was thus able to form a more just conception of his supreme capabilities.
"I won't ask you how you are getting on," he said to me a few days after the marriage. "But I want you to know that I welcome you as an ally."
"An ally, sir?"
He sat back in his chair, his massively muscled legs thrust out before him.
"Don't pretend you don't understand me. I've watched you for years, ever since your mother and I agreed to this match. Don't pretend to be an innocent or a fool. You know perfectly well that a marriage such as yours is more than a family compact. It's a political act. Of course I hope that you and Vipsania will be happy together: she's my daughter and I'm fond of her; but I also hope that this marriage will make it easier for you and me to work together. You're young, but you have a head on you, and I'm ready to swear that you have some understanding of how things stand. If nothing else, your experiences as prosecutor in the recent case should have opened your eyes. What sort of state would you say we live in?"
"My stepfather has often told me how proud he is to have restored the Republic."
"Balls. And you know it, don't you?"
"Well . . ." "Precisely."
"Of course I realise it's not the Republic as it used to be, and that he doesn't deceive himself that it is."
"That's better. It's not the Republic, and the Republic will never be restored. Its time has gone. You can't run an empire on the basis of votes in the Roman forum, or of long-winded deliberations in the Senate either. So it's not the Republic. What is it then?"
"Let's say it's the empire, sir."
"Fair enough. But what's the empire? Is it a monarchy?" "Not precisely." "A dictatorship?"
"The office of dictator has been abolished, hasn't it?" Agrippa laughed, drank some beer, fixed me with his eyes. His gaze was hard, heavy, imperious. I felt his power. He waited. I held my peace. "So what is the empire?" he said again. "You are one of its two architects, sir."
"And even I am ignorant. But I can tell you this: only immature states can be either democracies or monarchies. We have grown beyond both these forms of government. The classic Greek delineation of types of state no longer applies, for we are not even an oligarchy as they understood the term. We are perhaps a constellation of powers . . ."
Agrippa had no reputation as a theorist. Indeed, to hear him speak, you would have thought him a mere force of nature, an exponent of brute strengths. Not so.
"The Princeps is a remarkable man," he said. "But you know that. Nevertheless you must see that he doesn't owe his success to his own qualities entirely."
"I know that too, sir."
"And he has his faults."
Again I said nothing. We were in his villa by the sea, north of the city, in a garden apartment. The sun shone on a path beyond and a westerly breeze wafted in the scent of box trees and rosemary growing on the terrace. Below, in a sunken garden, there were mulberries and fig trees. I could hear, in the lacunae of our conversation, the sea lapping at the wall.
"His chief fault," Agrippa said, "is his affectionate nature.
Often he allows it to dominate his intellect, warp his judgment. It's strange when he can be so ruthless at other times."
"Marcellus is very charming," I said. "It's no wonder that my stepfather is so fond of him."
"Yes," Agrippa said, "he's a delightful boy, isn't he?"
He got to his feet.
"We've said enough, haven't we? I'm glad it's you, not Marcellus, who is married to my
That year I married Vipsania. We had been betrothed for many years and I had accustomed myself to the idea that we would be man and wife. At one time I had rebelled against the prospect. It seemed an unsuitable match for a Claudian. But I had reconciled myself when I came to know her father Agrippa, and was thus able to form a more just conception of his supreme capabilities.
"I won't ask you how you are getting on," he said to me a few days after the marriage. "But I want you to know that I welcome you as an ally."
"An ally, sir?"
He sat back in his chair, his massively muscled legs thrust out before him.
"Don't pretend you don't understand me. I've watched you for years, ever since your mother and I agreed to this match. Don't pretend to be an innocent or a fool. You know perfectly well that a marriage such as yours is more than a family compact. It's a political act. Of course I hope that you and Vipsania will be happy together: she's my daughter and I'm fond of her; but I also hope that this marriage will make it easier for you and me to work together. You're young, but you have a head on you, and I'm ready to swear that you have some understanding of how things stand. If nothing else, your experiences as prosecutor in the recent case should have opened your eyes. What sort of state would you say we live in?"
"My stepfather has often told me how proud he is to have restored the Republic."
"Balls. And you know it, don't you?"
"Well . . ." "Precisely."
"Of course I realise it's not the Republic as it used to be, and that he doesn't deceive himself that it is."
"That's better. It's not the Republic, and the Republic will never be restored. Its time has gone. You can't run an empire on the basis of votes in the Roman forum, or of long-winded deliberations in the Senate either. So it's not the Republic. What is it then?"
"Let's say it's the empire, sir."
"Fair enough. But what's the empire? Is it a monarchy?" "Not precisely." "A dictatorship?"
"The office of dictator has been abolished, hasn't it?" Agrippa laughed, drank some beer, fixed me with his eyes. His gaze was hard, heavy, imperious. I felt his power. He waited. I held my peace. "So what is the empire?" he said again. "You are one of its two architects, sir."
"And even I am ignorant. But I can tell you this: only immature states can be either democracies or monarchies. We have grown beyond both these forms of government. The classic Greek delineation of types of state no longer applies, for we are not even an oligarchy as they understood the term. We are perhaps a constellation of powers . . ."
Agrippa had no reputation as a theorist. Indeed, to hear him speak, you would have thought him a mere force of nature, an exponent of brute strengths. Not so.
"The Princeps is a remarkable man," he said. "But you know that. Nevertheless you must see that he doesn't owe his success to his own qualities entirely."
"I know that too, sir."
"And he has his faults."
Again I said nothing. We were in his villa by the sea, north of the city, in a garden apartment. The sun shone on a path beyond and a westerly breeze wafted in the scent of box trees and rosemary growing on the terrace. Below, in a sunken garden, there were mulberries and fig trees. I could hear, in the lacunae of our conversation, the sea lapping at the wall.
"His chief fault," Agrippa said, "is his affectionate nature.
Often he allows it to dominate his intellect, warp his judgment. It's strange when he can be so ruthless at other times."
"Marcellus is very charming," I said. "It's no wonder that my stepfather is so fond of him."
"Yes," Agrippa said, "he's a delightful boy, isn't he?"
He got to his feet.
"We've said enough, haven't we? I'm glad it's you, not Marcellus, who is married to my
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