Caligula becomes emperor

Tiberius died in 37 CE, leaving a legacy of stability, suspicion, and a carefully tended machine of rule. Into its cockpit stepped Gaius Julius Caesar Germanicus—Caligula, the little boots of his childhood among the legions. The Senate acclaimed him; the people cheered; the Praetorians smiled at a familiar name backed by their steel. Tacitus’ narrative is lost here, but Suetonius and Cassius Dio supply the arc: the rush of promise, the swirl of spectacle, the strain of governance [3][4][14].

The opening months glittered. Caligula gave donatives to the Guard and the populace, staged games, and brought back the bodies of his mother and brothers for burial in Augustus’ mausoleum, weaving himself into the founding story in marble and tears. The color of celebration—golden wreaths, purple garments—returned to the Campus Martius and Palatine. In coins and proclamations, the message was renewal [3][4].

Then the rhythm shifted. Ancient writers report illness, perhaps in the autumn, and a personality that turned from generous to grandiose. Dio recounts reorganization in Mauretania and interventions in cults; Suetonius layers court anecdotes that may be gossip but capture a changed atmosphere—extravagant building, expensive spectacles, and open friction with senators who remembered the quieter shades of Tiberius [3][4].

In the Curia, the scrape of styluses grew sharper. Caligula’s gestures, intended to awe, drained the treasury; his mockery of senatorial dignities pricked pride that had survived Augustus’ careful staging. The Guard watched. Crowds watched. The system, resilient under steady hands, became brittle when prodded without purpose [4][14].

By the end of 40 CE, the city had learned to read the signs: when the princeps’ moods direct policy, the sounds of governance—regular, predictable—dissolve into the sudden clatter of crisis. The next January, knives would answer gestures with steel [3][4].