Julia (Scribonia’s daughter), pert, witty, bold, and daring, was the darling of her father, whom she knew well how to amuse.  Drusus, the younger son of Livia and Claudius Nero, was a bold handsome boy of winning manners and fine promise, generally noticed and loved.  To these two you may say Augustus stood in only human relations:  the loving, careful, and jolly father, sharing in all their games and merriment.  He always liked playing with children:  as emperor, would often stop in his walks through the streets to join in a game with the street-boys.  But with Livia’s elder son, Tiberius, he was different.  Tiberius had no charm of manner:  Drusus his brother quite put him in the shade.  He carried with him the scars of his babyhood’s perilous adventures, and the terror of that unremembered night of fire.  He was desperately shy and sensitive; awkward in company; reserved, timid, retiring, silent.  Within the nature so pent up were tense feelings; you would say ungovernable, only that he always did govern them.  He went unnoticed; Drusus was the pet of all; under such conditions how much harmony as a rule exists between two brothers?  But Tiberius loved Drusus with his whole heart; his thoughts knew no color of jealousy; unusual harmony was between them until Drusus died.—­The world said Augustus disliked the boy:  we shall see on what appearances that opinion was based.  But Tiberius, then and ever afterwards, held for Augustus a feeling deeper and stronger than human or filial affection:  it was that, with the added reverence of a disciple for his Teacher.—­You shall find these intense feelings sometimes in children of his stamp; though truly children of the stamp of Tiberius are rare enough; for with all his tenderness, his over-sensitiveness and timidity, put him to some task, whisper to him Duty!—­and the little Tiberius is another child altogether:  unflinching, silent, determined, pertinacious, ready to die rather than give in before the thing is most whole-souledly done.

Augustus, merriest and most genial of men, never treated him as he did Julia and Drusus:  there were no games and rompings with Tiberius.  Let this grave child come into the room, and all ended; as if the Princeps were a school-boy caught at it by some stern prowling schoolmaster.  Indeed, it was common talk that Augustus, until the last years of his life, never smiled in Tiberius’ presence; that his smile died always on his stepson’s entry; the joke begun went unfinished; he became suddenly grave and restrained;—­as, I say, in the presence of a soul not to be treated with levity, but always upon a considered plan.