The Dedalus Book of Roman Decadence: Emperors of Debauchery

by Geoffrey Farrington

  Nero, therefore, began to avoid being alone with her, and when she went to her gardens, or to her estates at Tusculum or Antium he praised her intention of going away for a rest. Eventually he decided that she was a liability wherever she was, and decided to kill her, speculating further on whether he should do so by poison, the knife or some other means. The first choice was poison. But if it were given to her at an imperial dinner it would be difficult to claim it as ill-luck, since Britannicus had already gone that way. It also seemed difficult to bribe the servants of a woman who was used to crime, and always on the look-out for it. Besides, she had strengthened her body by taking remedies for poisons on a pre-emptive basis. No-one knew of a way of hiding a sword, or could come up with a similar way of cutting her down, and there was also the fear that anyone ordered to do the bloody deed would not actually do it. An ingenious idea came, however, from the freedman Anicetus, who had been a naval prefect at Misenum, the naval base on the Bay of Naples. He had been one of Nero's teachers when the emperor was a boy, and his hatred of Agrippina was reciprocated. He showed that it was possible to construct a ship of which a part could be designed to come away when they were already out at sea, and thus throw in the unsuspecting Agrippina. Nothing, Anicetus explained, is potentially more dangerous than a sea journey, and if the lady were done away with by shipwreck, who would be malicious enough to see human wickedness in the misdeeds of the winds and the waves? The emperor would, after all, then set up a temple, altars and so forth, with a great show of piety for the dead Agrippina.

  This seemed like a good plan, and the time was right as well, since Nero was in the habit of celebrating the festival of Minerva, in late March, at Baiae, and so he persuaded his mother to come there. He announced that from time to time one had to allow for parental outbursts, and that he proposed to show an understanding and placatory attitude. In this way he wanted to create an air of reconciliation, so that Agrippina, with the easy credulity of women for good news, would accept. She came, and Nero met her on the shore when she arrived from Antium, gave her his hand and embraced her, and then esorted her to Bauli - this was the name of a villa on the Bay, between the promontory of Misenum and the Lake of Baiae. Among the ships was one that was more finely decorated, another compliment to his mother, who was usually conveyed in a trireme with oarsmen from the navy. Then she was invited to Baiae for dinner (so that night might conceal the crime). It is well enough known that there was an informer, and Agrippina, when she heard, was in two minds whether or not to believe what she had heard, but she went to Baiae in a litter. Once there, however, her fears gave way under the attentions of Nero - she was made welcome and given the seat of honour. After a lot of talk - sometimes with the familiarity of a child, at others apparently serious - Nero saw her off, gazing into her eyes and pressing her tightly to himself, either as a final pretence, or perhaps because this last look at his doomed mother had affected even Nero's brutish nature.

  But the gods seemed to have sent a starlit night and a calm and quiet sea, so that the wicked act would be witnessed. The ship had not travelled very far, and two of Agrippina's household were with her; one of them, Crepereius Gallus, was standing a little way from the tiller, while Acceronia was sitting at Agrippina's feet as she lay on a couch. They were reminiscing with delight about the penitent behaviour of Agrippina's son and her restoral to favour, when suddenly at a signal the canopy over them (which was weighted with lead) fell down and crushed Crepereius to death immediately. Agrippina and Acceronia were protected by the high sides of the couch, which happened to be able to resist the weight. Nor, indeed, did the ship collapse, and in the chaos those that knew what was going on were impeded by the large numbers of these who did not. Then the oarsmen decided to throw all their weight onto one side and capsize the ship that way. How ever, there was no instant agreement on this emergency move, and the fact that others were working in the opposite direction allowed people to drop into the sea less abruptly. Acceronia unwisely shouted out that she was Agrippina, and that someone should help the mother of the emperor, and was immediately killed by blows from stanchions, oars and any other ship's equipment that came to hand. Agrippina kept quiet and was therefore not recognized, although she did receive one wound in the shoulder; she swam away until she met some small fishing-boats and was brought to the Lucrine Lake, and then back to her villa.

  There, she gave some thought to the treacherous invitation and to the more-than-special way she had been treated, and also to the fact that they had not been far away from the shore, and that the ship, which hadn't been buffetted by the winds and hadn't run onto rocks, had still fallen apart from the top downwards, like something built on land that was designed to do just that. When she took into account the death of Acceronia and also her own wound, she realised that her only defence against this treachery was not to acknowledge it. So she sent Agermus, a freedman, to tell her son that by divine grace and to his good fortune she had been saved from a serious accident, but that she implored him not to come and see her yet, however anxious about the danger in which his mother had been, because at the moment she needed rest. Meanwhile, pretending not to be worried, she used medicines and poultices for her wound, and to help herself recover. She gave orders that Acceronia's will should be found and her goods placed under seal; this was the only thing she did openly.

  Now Nero was waiting for the messengers to come and tell him that the crime had been carried out when word was brought that she had escaped only slightly wounded, but that after such risks there could be no doubt about who had caused it all. Scared half to death, Nero was sure that she would be there right away to get her revenge, either arming her slaves or stirring up the troops, or perhaps appealing to the Senate or to the masses, and blaming him for the wreck, her injury and the death of her friends. And what could he do against this to save his own skin? His chance for help lay with his advisers, Sextus Burrus and Seneca, whom he summoned at once; it is unclear whether or not they knew about the business in advance. Both men were silent for a long time, either because they were unwilling to argue with him, or because they really did believe that things had reached such a point that Agrippina had to be stopped,or Nero would be killed. After a while Seneca made a decision, looked at Burrus and asked whether the soldiers should be given the order to kill? Burrus answered that the Praetorians were under oath to the Julio-Claudian imperial family as a whole, that they revered the memory of Agrippina's father, Germanicus, and that they would not commit a crime against one of his children. He said that Anicetus should carry out what he had promised, and the latter asked right away for permission to do so. When he heard this, Nero said that he had been presented on that day with an empire, and that this great gift had been given him by a freedman. He told Anicetus to go at once, and take with him men who would obey orders without question. When Nero heard that Agermus had arrived with a message from Agrippina, he made him look guilty by planting a sword by his feet while he was delivering his message, and then having him put in chains, as if he had been caught in the act; he could then concoct a story of how his mother had plotted against his life, and, when detected, had committed suicide in shame.

  Meanwhile, people had heard of the dangers that Agrippina had been in, but still thought that it had been an accident; when they heard, they rushed down to the beach, some climbed onto the sea-wall, some got hold of handy fishing-boats, and others waded waist-deep into the sea, some with their arms outstretched. All along the shore you could hear prayers, expressions of grief, all kinds of questions and unfounded answers. A huge crowd turned up, with torches, and when it became known that she had been rescued, they all set off to congratulate her, but were scattered by the sight of a threatening armed column of men. Anicetus put a cordon round her villa, broke down the door and arrested any slaves that appeared, until he reached her bedroom door. A few of her people were still there, but the rest had fled in terror at the invasion. In the dimly-lit bedroom there was only one single maid, and Agrippina was getting m
ore and more worried that no word had come from her son, and that Agermus had not come back either. This all boded ill: the isolation, the sudden mayhem outside - all the signs of disaster. When the one maid tried to leave, Agrippina said, 'Are you deserting me as well?' and then she saw Anicetus, accompanied by Herculeius, a naval captain, and Obitarus, a centurion with the fleet. She told them that if Anicetus had come to visit her, he could report back that she was feeling better; if he had come with crime in mind, that she did not believe that any of this was her son's doing, because she would not sanction the killing of his mother. The assassins surrounded her bed, and the captain struck first, hitting her on the head with a club. As the centurion drew his sword to kill her, she pointed to her belly and shouted 'strike at the womb!' and was hacked and beaten to death.

  Petronius

  Died AD 65

  It is historically unproven but considered fairly certain that Titus Petronius, the most celebrated decadent figure of Nero's court after the emperor himself, was the author of the Satyricon, a picaresque novel set in Southern Italy containing the exploits of three homosexual adventurers. Much of what survives is fragmented but a manuscript emerged in seventeenth century Dalmatia containing in its entirety the chapter Cena Trimalchionis (Dinner at Trimalchio's) describing the banquet of a freed slave whose vast wealth is exceeded only by his vulgarity. Dinner at Trimalchio's is a masterpiece of comic observation and invention which it may be said captures the very spirit of the Roman world with wonderful vividness.

  Petronius himself died following his implication in a famous conspiracy against Nero. Tacitus has left us a short account of his life and death which is itself worthy of inclusion in this volume.

  TACITUS

  from the Annals

  XVI, 18-20: The Death of Petronius Arbiter

  Petronius merits a few words to recall what he was like. He spent his days in sleep and his nights in official and social activities. Where others make it through hard work, Petronius got famous by being idle, but he was not thought of as a wastrel or as a dissolute, the way other layabouts are, but rather as a specialist in extravagant behaviour. His words and deeds were so unselfconsiously abandoned that they were freely accepted as `refreshingly uncomplicated.' However, when he was proconsul and then consul at Bithynia in Asia Minor, he showed himself to be energetic, and well up to the job. But then he turned to a life of studied luxury - at least apparently so - and was admitted into Nero's close circle of intimates as his fashion consultant, his `Arbiter of Elegance,' after which Nero pronounced nothing charming or fashionable unless it had Petronius' seal of approval. As a result, Tigellinus became envious of him, having found in him a rival who was more skilled in the arts of hedonism than he was. So Tigellinus exploited the emperor's cruel streak (which was Nero's predominant vice), and denounced Petronius on the grounds of his friendship with Scaevinus, bribing one of his slaves to turn informer, making sure no defence was possible, and arranging that most of Petronius' people were placed under arrest.

  At that time Nero happened to be in the Campagna, and Petronius himself had reached Cumae before he was arrested. He refused to have anything to do with the hopes and fears associated with waiting. However, he did not rush to commit suicide. He cut his veins, but, as and when he felt like it he had them bound up or opened again; meanwhile he chatted with his friends, not on serious matters, or so that he would be famous for his great fortitude. He listened, not to expositions of the immortal soul or of the theory of knowledge, but to jolly songs and light verse. He gave some slaves presents and had a few of them whipped. He came to dinner and sat there in his halfdozing state, so that death (although it was forced on him) might look natural. In his will, too, he refused to behave like most similar compulsory suicides, and made no flattering noises about Nero, or Tigellinus, or some other important person. No, he wrote down all the emperor's vices, with the names of the dubious men or women that he had been to bed with, and went on to describe all aspects of the emperor's sexual inventiveness. He sealed the document and sent it to Nero, then broke his signet-ring so that noone else could use it to endanger other people.

  Nero wondered how details of his more original bedtime activities had got out, and he thought of Silia, who was a senator's wife, and therefore not unimportant. She had partnered him in all his lustful goings-on, and she was, moreover, a close friend of Petronius. For failing to keep quiet about what she had seen and done, she was exiled.

  from The Satyricon

  Dinner at Trimalchio's Satyricon, 26-41

  Now came the third day, and we were looking forward to a good feed, but we were so bruised and battered that flight seemed a better idea than recreation. And so we were making gloomy plans as to how to avoid the coming storm, when one of Agamemnon's slaves interrupted us as we stood there arguing and said, `don't you know whose house the bash is at today? Trimalchio, a really wellheeled chap. He has a clock in his dining room, and a bugle-boy in uniform, to sound how much of his life has passed.' Therefore we carefully got dressed and forgot all the bad things that had happened, and then told Giton - who had up to now been attending us willingly - to follow us to the baths. When we got there, we began to stroll around in our fine togs, or rather to tell jokes and to circulate, when suddenly we saw an old man who was bald, wearing a reddish tunic and playing ball with some long-haired boys. It wasn't the boys that made us gape - though they were worth it; no, it was the old man, who was exercising, in his sandals, with a green ball. He never picked it up if it touched the ground, though. A slave had a leather bag full, and provided the players with them as needed. We also noticed a new twist to the game. Two eunuchs were standing at different points of the circle. One held a silver chamber-pot, and the other counted the balls - not those thrown quickly from hand to hand in the game, though, but those that fell to the ground. While we were staring in wonder at the brilliance of this show, Menelaus ran up and said, `this is the man with whom you'll be dining, and in fact what you are now watching is the aperitif to the dinner.' Menelaus had just finished speaking when Trimalchio clicked his fingers. At this sign, one of the eunuchs came up and held out the chamber-pot as he played. His bladder relieved, Trimalchio called for water for his hands, splashed a little on his fingers, and then wiped them on the head of one of the boys.

  It would take too long to pick out single incidents. We went into the baths, and once we were soaked with sweat we went straight into the cold room. Trimalchio, covered all over with oils, was being rubbed down, not with standard towels, but with a bath-robe of the softest wool. In front of him three masseurs were drinking Falernian wine, and because they were bickering, they spilt a fair amount. Trimalchio said that they were drinking his health. Wrapped in a scarlet cloak of wool, he was placed in a litter. Four runners covered in medals went in front of him, as did a little cart in which rode his favourite lad. The boy had an old man's face and bleary eyes, and was even uglier than his master, Trimalchio. A musician with a tiny set of pipes sat himself down by Trimalchio's head as he was carried off, and played for the whole journey as if whispering secrets into his ear.

  We followed, by now full of admiration, and arrived at the same time as Agamemnon at the door, on which was stuck a placard with this written on it: 100 lashes for any slave leaving the house without his master's permission. At the entrance stood the porter, dressed in green with a cherryred belt, and he was shelling peas into a silver bowl. A magpie greeted visitors from a golden cage which hung above the doorway. While I was taking all of this in, I almost fell over backwards and broke my leg. For on the left hand side as you went in, not far from the porter's lodge, was a massive dog on a chain - painted on the wall, and above it in block capitals was CAVE CANEM - Beware of the Dog! My companions laughed at me, but I plucked up my courage, and went to look at the whole wall. There was a fresco of a slave market, with everything labelled. Trimalchio was there with long hair, holding the staff of Mercury, while Minerva was leading him into Rome. The artist had painstakingly depicted
his whole career with explanations underneath - how he had learnt accountancy and finally been made treasurer. Where the colonnade ended, Mercury held him by his chin and carried him up to a lofty platform for magistrates. The goddess Fortune stood before him with her overflowing horn of plenty, and the three Fates spinning their golden threads were there as well. I also noticed a group of sprinters exercising with their trainer by the colonnade. I spied, too, a large cupboard in the corner in which was a little shrine with the silver household gods, a marble statue of Venus, and large golden casket in which they said the clippings were kept from the first time Trimalchio had shaved.

  I began to ask the porter what pictures they had in the central part of the house. 'The Iliad and the Odyssey,' he said. 'And the gladiatorial games put on by Laenas.' I couldn't take it all in.

  Now we went through to the dining room. At the entrance sat the treasurer, going through the accounts. I was particularly surprised to see the ceremonial fasces and axes fixed onto the frame of the dining room door, one part of which was finished off as a kind of bronze ship's prow, inscribed To Gaius Pompeius Trimalchio, Priest of the College of Augustus, from his Steward Cinnamus. A double lamp hung from the ceiling underneath this inscription, and two little noticeboards were fastened onto each doorpost, one of which had, if I remember correctly, the words Note: On December 30 and 31, Trimalchio will not be dining at home. The other was painted with the course of the moon and representations of the sun and planets. Lucky and unlucky days were marked with various types of studs.