stood affairs at Rome when a sedition seized the legions in Pannonia; without any fresh grounds, save that from a change of Princes, they meant to assume a warrant for licentiousness and tumult, and from a civil war hoped great earnings and acquisitions: they were three legions encamped together, all commanded by Junius Blesus, who, upon notice of the death of Augustus and the accession of Tiberius, had granted the soldiers a recess from their wonted duties for some days, as a time either of public mourning or festivity. From being idle they waxed wanton, quarrelsome, and turbulent; greedily listened to mutinous discourses; the most profligate amongst them had most credit with them, and at last they became passionate for a life of sloth and riot, utterly averse to all military discipline and every fatigue of the camp. In the camp was one Percennius; formerly a busy leader in the embroilments of the theatre, and now a common soldier; a fellow of a petulant, declaiming tongue, and by inflaming parties in the playhouse, well qualified to excite and infatuate a crowd. This incendiary practised upon the ignorant and unwary, such as were solicitous what might prove their future usage, now Augustus was dead. He engaged them in nightly confabulations, and by little and little incited them to violence and disorders; and towards the evening, when the soberest and best affected were withdrawn, he assembled the worst and most turbulent. When he had thus ripened them for sedition, and other ready incendiaries were combined with him, he personated the character of a lawful Commander, and thus questioned and harangued them:
"Why did they obey, like slaves, a few Centurions and a fewer Tribunes? When would they be bold enough to demand redress of their heavy grievances, unless they snatched the present occasion, while the Emperor was yet new and his authority wavering, to prevail with him by petition, or by arms to force him? They had already by the misery of many years paid dear for their patient sloth and stupid silence, since decrepit with age and maimed with wounds, after a course of service for thirty or forty years, they were still doomed to carry arms: nor even to those who were discharged was there any end of the misery of warfare; they were still kept tied to the colours, and under the creditable title of Veterans endured the same hardships, and underwent the same labours. But suppose any of them escaped so many dangers, and survived so many calamities, where was their reward at last? Why, a long and weary march remained yet to be taken into countries far remote and strange; where, under the name of lands given them to cultivate, they had unhospitable bogs to drain, and the wild wastes of mountains to manure. Severe and ungainful of itself was the occupation of war: ten Asses {Footnote: About 5d.} a day the poor price of their persons and lives; out of this, they must buy clothes, and tents, and arms; out of this, bribe the cruel Centurions for a forbearance of blows, and occasional exemption from hard duty: but stripes from their officers, and wounds from their enemies, hard winters and laborious summers, bloody wars and barren peace, were miseries without end: nor remained there other cure or relief than to refuse to enlist but upon conditions certain, and fixed by themselves; particularly, that their pay be a denarius or sixteen Asses a day, {Footnote: About 8–½d.} sixteen years be the utmost term of serving; when discharged, to be no longer obliged to follow the colours, but have their reward in ready money, paid them in the camp where they earned it. Did the Praetorian Guards, they who had double pay, they who after sixteen years' service were paid off and sent home, bear severer difficulties, undergo superior dangers? He did not mean to detract from the merit of their brethren the City guards; their own lot however it was, to be placed amongst horrid and barbarous nations, nor could they look from their tents, but they saw the foe."
The whole crowd received this harangue with shouts of applause; but from various instigations. Some displayed upon their bodies the obvious impressions of stripes, others their hoary heads, many their vestments ragged and curtailed, with backs utterly bare; as did all, their various griefs, in the bitterness of reproach. At length to such excessive fury they grew, that they proposed to incorporate the three legions into one; nor by aught but emulation was the project defeated: for to his own legion every man claimed the prerogative of swallowing and denominating the other two. They took another method, and placed the three Eagles of the legions, with the standards of the several cohorts, altogether without rank or priority; then forthwith digged turf and were rearing a tribunal, one high enough to be seen at a distance. In this hurry arrived Blesus, who, falling into sore rebukes, and by force interrupting particulars, called with vehemence to all: "Dip your hands rather in my blood: to murder your General will be a crime less shameful and heinous than to revolt from your Prince; for determined I am, either to preserve the legions in their faith and obedience, if you kill me not for my intended good office; or my death, if I fall by your hands, shall hasten your remorse."
For all this, turfs were accumulated, and the work was already breast high, when, at last, overcome by his spirit and perseverance, they forbore. Blesus was an able speaker: he told them "that sedition and mutiny were not the methods of conveying to the Emperor the pretensions of the soldiers; their demands too were new and singular; such as neither the soldiers of old had ever made to the ancient Generals, nor they themselves to the deified Augustus: besides, their claims were ill-timed, when the Prince, just upon his accession, was already embarrassed with the weight and variety of other cares. If, however, they meant to try to gain in full peace those concessions, which, even after a civil war, the conquerors never claimed; yet why trample upon duty and obedience, why reject the laws of the army, and rules of discipline? And if they meant to petition, why meditate violence? They might at least appoint deputies; and in his presence trust them with their pretensions." Here they all cried out, "that the son of Blesus, one of their Tribunes, should execute that deputation; and demand in their name that, after sixteen years' service they should be discharged: they said they would give him new orders, when he had succeeded in these." After the departure of the young officer, a moderate recess ensued; the soldiers however exulted to have carried such a point: the sending the son of their General, as the public advocate for their cause, was to them full proof that they had gained by force and terror that which by modesty and gentle means they would never have gained.
In the meantime those companies which, before the sedition began, were sent to Nauportum {Footnote: Over-Laybach, in Carniola.} to mend roads and bridges, and upon other duties, no sooner heard of the uproar in the camp, but they cast off all obedience, tore away the ensigns, and plundered the neighbouring villages; even Nauportum itself, which for greatness resembled a municipal town, was plundered. The endeavours of the Centurions to restrain this violence, were first returned with mockery and contempt, then with invectives and contumelies, at last with outrage and blows. Their vengeance was chiefly bent against the Camp-Marshal, Aufidienus Rufus: him they dragged from his chariot, and, loading him with baggage, drove him before the first ranks; they then insulted him, and asked in scorn, "whether he would gladly bear such enormous burdens, whether endure such immense marches?" Rufus had been long a common soldier, then became a Centurion, and afterwards Camp-Marshal; a severe restorer of primitive strictness and discipline; an indefatigable observer of every military duty, which he exacted from others with the more rigour, as he had himself undergone them all with patience.
By the arrival of this tumultuous band the sedition was again awakened to its former outrage, and the seditious, roving abroad without control, ravaged the country on every side. Blesus, for an example of terror to the rest, commanded those who were most laden with plunder, to be punished with stripes and cast into prison: for the General was still dutifully obeyed by the Centurions, and by all the soldiers of any merit; but the criminals refused to submit, and even struggled with the guard who were carrying them off; they clasped the knees of the bystanders, implored help from their fellows, now calling upon every individual, and conjuring them by their particular names; then appealed to them in a body, and supplicated the company, the cohort, the legion to which they belonged; warning and proclaiming that the same ignominy and chastisement hung over them all. With the same breath they heaped invectives without measure upon their General, and called upon heaven and all the Gods to be their witnesses and avengers; nor left they aught unattempted to raise effectual hatred, compassion, terror, and every species of fury. Hence the whole body rushed to their relief, burst open the prison, unbound and rescued the prisoners: thus they owned for their brethren, and incorporated with themselves, infamous revolters, and traitors convict and condemned.
Hence the violence became more raging, and
