Domitian was furious. As usual – this will not surprise you, Tacitus -his anger was inspired by resentment and self-pity. He had had a letter from his father informing him that he had written to Otho requesting that Domitian should not be included among the members of his staff, but be permitted to remain in Rome 'to continue his studies'. Otho had 'graciously' consented. He had in any case developed a dislike for Domitian, whose restless look and quickness to take offence were, as he told me, 'intolerable'.
'It's not fair,' was Domitian's refrain. 'I have no studies worth the name and, even if I had, my father has never given a hang for them. You're going to the war, with a position on Otho's staff. It's not fair.'
'Well,' I said, in what I hoped was a conciliatory manner, for in truth I had some sympathy with Domitian's resentment. You forget that I have no father to make such a request. It's true that I have a guardian, my mother's brother, who may still claim some notional authority over me, but then he has never cared a tinker's cuss whether I live or die. So there's no reason for him to start doing so now. But I'm sure you wrong your father. It's natural he should be concerned for your safety. Indeed, he said as much when I was with him recently. He spoke very warmly of you,' I lied.
'It's not fair,' Domitian said again, 'and I know who to blame. It's Titus who has persuaded my father to take this attitude. He's jealous in case I win a renown in battle that would put him in the shade.'
'That's ridiculous,' Domatilla said. As if you could! Everyone knows what a hero he is. His soldiers adore him. Don't they?' she turned to me and flushing, sought confirmation of what she could not have known, but nevertheless believed, for she herself 'adored' her glamorous elder brother, and could never suppose that Domitian might be in any way his equal.
'He is certainly very popular,' I said. 'As I daresay, Domitian, you yourself will be too, when the time comes. In any case, surely you see that it is in your father's interest – whatever reason he may have given Otho – that you remain in the city as his representative.'
'Oh, fine words,' Domitian said, 'awfully fine words. Do you think I'm stupid? Do you think I don't know that my uncle Flavius Sabinus is also to remain in Rome, and that he will be the man to receive confidences and instructions from my father?'
He continued in this vein interminably, till at last Domatilla told him to 'grow up' – a piece of admirable, if impracticable, advice which sent him into a deeper sulk.
At the time I shared her irritation. Subsequently I have wondered whether Vespasian's treatment of Domitian wasn't in truth prompted by Titus' determination that his little brother should be denied any chance to distinguish himself. If this was indeed the case, then Domitian's resentment was justified. It is regrettable that Rome, and my own career, should have suffered on account of resentment becoming his dominant characteristic.