As it happened, Caligula’s second letter arrived late – the ship lost its mainmast between Rhodes and Cyprus and lay disabled for several days – so that the news of Caligula’s death arrived at Caesarea first. Petronius almost embraced Judaism, he was so relieved.
This ends the first part of the story of Herod Agrippa, but you shall hear the rest as I continue to tell my own.
Chapter 5
So here we are back again at the point where I was being carried round the great court of the Palace on the shoulders of two corporals of the Guard, with the Household Battalion of Germans crowding about me and dedicating their assegais to my service. Eventually I prevailed on the corporals to put me down and on four Germans to fetch my sedan. They brought it and I climbed into it. I was told that they had decided to take me to the Guards’ Camp at the other side of the City, where I would be protected from possible attempts at assassination. I was beginning to protest again when I saw a glint of colour at the back of the crowd. A purple-sleeved arm was waving at me in a peculiar circular motion which brought back memories of my schooldays. I said to the soldiers: ‘I think I see King Herod Agrippa. If he wishes to speak to me, let him come through at once.’
When Caligula was murdered Herod had not been far off. He had followed us out of the theatre but had been led aside by one of the conspirators, who pretended that he wished him to speak to Caligula about some favour. So Herod did not witness the actual murder. If I knew him as well as I think I did, he would certainly have saved Caligula’s life by some trick or other; and now when he came upon the dead body he showed his gratitude for past favours in no uncertain terms. He embraced it, all bloody as it was, and carried it tenderly in his own arms into the Palace, where he laid it on the Imperial bed. He even sent out for surgeons, as though Caligula was not really dead and had a chance of recovery. He then left the Palace by another door and hurried round to the theatre again, where he prompted Mnester, the actor, to make his famous speech, the one which reassured the excited Germans and prevented them from massacring the audience in vengeance for their master’s death. Then back he darted to the Palace. When he heard there what had happened to me he came boldly into the court to see whether he could be of any service. I must admit that the sight of Herod’s crooked smile – one corner of the mouth turned up, the other down – heartened me considerably.
His first words were: ‘Congratulations, Caesar, on your election: may you long enjoy the great honours that these brave soldiers have bestowed on you, and may I have the glory of being your first ally!’ The soldiers cheered lustily. Then, coming close to me and clasping my hand tightly in his, he began talking earnestly in Phoenician, a language with which he knew I was acquainted because of my researches into the history of Carthage, but which none of the soldiers would understand. He gave me no opportunity of interrupting him. ‘Listen to me, Claudius. I know what you are feeling. I know that you don’t really want to be Emperor, but for all our sakes, as well as your own, don’t be a fool. Don’t let slip what the Gods have given you of their own accord. I can guess what you are thinking. You have some crazy idea of yielding up your power to the Senate as soon as the soldiers let you go. That would be madness; it would be the signal for civil war. The Senate are a flock of sheep, but there are three or four wolves among them who are ready, the moment you lay down your power, to fight for it among themselves. There’s Asiaticus for a start, not to mention Vinicius. They were both in the conspiracy, so they are likely to do something desperate for fear of being executed. Vinicius thinks himself a Caesar already because of his marriage with your niece Lesbia. He’ll recall her from banishment and they’ll make a very strong combination. If it’s not Asiaticus or Vinicius it will be someone else, probably Vinicianus. You are the only obvious Emperor for Rome and you’ll have the armies solidly behind you. If you won’t take on the responsibility because of some absurd prejudice it will be the ruin of everything. That’s all I’ll say. Think it over and keep up your spirits!’ Then he turned and shouted to the soldiers, ‘Romans, I congratulate you too. You could not have made a wiser choice. Your new Emperor is courageous, generous, learned, and just. You can trust him as completely as you trusted his glorious brother Germanicus. Don’t let yourselves be fooled with the Senate or by any of your Colonels. Stick by the Emperor Claudius and he’ll stick by you. The safest place for him is in your camp. I have just been advising him to pay you well for your loyalty.’ With these words he disappeared.
They carried me in my sedan towards their camp, going at a jog trot. As soon as one chairman showed any signs of flagging his place was taken by another. The Germans ran shouting ahead. I sat quite numb; self-possessed but never so blankly miserable in all my life before. With Herod gone the outlook seemed hopeless again. We had just reached the Sacred Way at the foot of the Palatine Hill when messengers came hurrying along it to intercept us and protest against my usurpation of the monarchy. The messengers were two ‘Protectors of the People’. (This office was a survival from the middle days of the Republic, when the Protectors maintained the rights of the common people against the tyrannous encroachments of the nobility: their persons were inviolate and, though they claimed no legislative power, they had forced from the nobles the right to veto any act of the Senate which displeased them. But Augustus and his two Imperial successors had also adopted the title of ‘Protector of the People’, with its prerogatives; so that the real ones, though they continued to be elected and to perform certain functions under Imperial direction, had lost their original importance.) It seemed clear that the Senate had chosen these messengers not only as an indication that all Rome was behind them in their protest, but also because their inviolateness of person would protect them from any hostility on the part of my men.
These Protectors, who were unknown to me personally, did not behave with conspicuous courage when we stopped to parley with them, or even dare to utter the stern message with which I afterwards learned that they had been entrusted. They called me ‘Caesar’, a title to which I then had no claim, not being a member of the Julian house; and said very humbly: ‘You will pardon us, Caesar, but the Senate would be much obliged by your immediate attendance at the House: they are anxious to learn your intentions.’
I was willing enough to go, but the Guards would not allow it. They felt only contempt for the Senate and, now that they had chosen an Emperor of their own, were resolved not to let him out of their sight, and to resist every attempt on the part of the Senate either to restore the Republic or to appoint a rival Emperor. Angry shouts arose, ‘Clear off, d’ye hear?’ ‘Tell the Senate to mind their own business and we’ll mind ours!’ ‘We won’t allow our new Emperor to be murdered too.’ I leaned through the window of my sedan and said: ‘Pray give my respectful compliments to the Senate and inform them that for the present I am unable to comply with their gracious invitation. I have a prior one. I am being carried off by the sergeants, corporals, and private soldiers of the Palace Guard to enjoy their hospitality at the Guards’ Camp. It is as much as my life is worth to insult this devoted soldiery.’
So away we went again. ‘What a wag our new Emperor is!’ they roared. When we reached the Camp I was greeted with greater enthusiasm than ever. The Guards Division consisted of some 12,000 infantrymen besides the attached cavalry. It was not only the corporals and sergeants who now acclaimed me Emperor, but the captains and the colonels too. I discouraged them as much as I could while thanking them for their goodwill. I said that I could not consent to be their Emperor until I had been so appointed by the Senate, in whose hands the election rested. I was conveyed to Headquarters, where I was treated with a deference to which I was wholly unaccustomed, but found myself virtually a prisoner.
As for the assassins, as soon as they had made sure of Caligula and escaped from the pursuing Germans; and from Caligula’s chairmen and yeomen who also came hurrying up with cries of vengeance, they had run down to Vinicius’s house, which was not far from the Market Place. Here were waiting th
e colonels of the three City Battalions, who were the only regular troops stationed in Rome besides the Watchmen and the Imperial Guards. These colonels had not taken any active part in the conspiracy but had promised to put their forces at the disposal of the Senate as soon as Caligula was dead and the Republic restored. Cassius now insisted that someone must go at once and kill Caesonia and myself: we were too closely related to Caligula to be allowed to survive him. A colonel called Lupus volunteered for the task; he was a brother-in-law of the Guards’ Commander. He came up to the Palace and, striding sword in hand through many deserted rooms, finally reached the Imperial bedchamber where Caligula’s body was lying, bloody and frightful, just as Herod had left it. But Caesonia was now sitting on the bed with the head on her lap, and little Drusilla, Caligula’s only child, was at her knees. As Lupus entered, Caesonia was wailing to the corpse, ‘Husband, husband, you should have listened to my advice.’ When she saw Lupus’s sword she looked up anxiously into his face and knew that she was doomed. She stretched out her neck. ‘Strike clean,’ she said. ‘Don’t bungle it like the other assassins did.’ Caesonia was no coward. He struck and the head fell. He then caught up the little brat, who came rushing at him, biting and scratching. He held her by the feet, swung her head against a marble pillar, and so dashed out her brains. It is always unpleasant to hear of the murder of a child: but the reader must take my word for it that if he too had known little Drusilla, her father’s pet, he would have longed to do what Lupus did.
There has been a great deal of argument since about the meaning of Caesonia’s address to the corpse, which certainly was ambiguous. Some say that what she meant was that Caligula should have listened to some advice that she had given him about killing Cassius, whose intentions she suspected, before he had time to put them into effect. The people who explain it in this way are those who blame Caesonia for Caligula’s madness, saying that it was she who first disordered his wits by giving him the love-philtre which bound him to her so entirely. Others hold, and I must say that I agree with them, that she meant that she had advised Caligula to mitigate what he was pleased to call his ‘immovable rigour’ and behave more like a humane and sensible mortal.
Lupus then came in search of me, to complete his task. But by this time the shouts ‘Long live the Emperor Claudius’ were just beginning. He stood in the doorway of the hall where the meeting was being held, but when he saw how popular I had become he lost courage and stole quietly away.
In the Market Place the excited crowds could not decide whether to cheer themselves hoarse in honour of the assassins or howl themselves hoarse in demands for their blood. A rumour ran about that Caligula had not been murdered at all, that the whole business was an elaborate hoax stage-managed by himself, and that he was only waiting for them to express joy at his death before beginning a general massacre. That was what he had meant, it was said, by his promise to exhibit an entirely new spectacle that night, to be called Death, Destruction, and the Mysteries of Hell. Caution prevailed and they had begun to bawl loyally, ‘Search out the murderers! Avenge our glorious Caesar’s death!’ when Asiaticus, an ex-Consul, who was a man of imposing figure and one who had been in Caligula’s close confidence, climbed up on the Oration Platform and exclaimed: ‘You are looking for the assassins? So am I. I want to congratulate them. I only wish I had struck a blow myself. Caligula was a vile creature and they acted nobly in killing him. Don’t be idiots, men of Rome! You all hated Caligula, and now that he is dead you will be able to breathe freely again. Go back to your homes and celebrate his death with wine and song!’
Three or four companies of City troops were drawn up close by, and Asiaticus said to them: ‘We are counting on you soldiers to keep the peace. The Senate is supreme once more. Once more we are a Republic. Obey the Senate’s orders and I give you my word that every man of you will be considerably richer by the time things have settled down again. There must be no plundering or rioting. Any offence against life or property will be punished by death.’ So the people changed their tune at once and began cheering the assassins and the Senate and Asiaticus himself.
From Vinicius’s house those of the conspirators who were senators were proceeding to the Senate House, where the Consuls had hastily called a meeting; when Lupus came running down from the Palatine Hill with the news that the Guards had acclaimed me Emperor and were hurrying me off to their camp. So they sent me a threatening message by two Protectors of the People, whom they mounted on cavalry horses and told to overtake me. They were to deliver the message as if from the Senate in session: I have already related how, when it came to the point, the threat lost most of its force. The other conspirators, the Guards officers, headed by Cassius, then seized the Citadel on the Capitoline Hill, manning it with one of the City Battalions.
I should like to have been an eye-witness of that historic meeting of the Senate, to which crowded not only all the senators but also a large number of knights and others who had no business to be there. As soon as news came of the successful seizure of the Citadel they all left the Senate House and moved up to the Temple of Jove, near by, thinking it a safer place. But the excuse they gave themselves was that the official designation of the Senate House was ‘The Julian Building’ and that free men should not meet in a place dedicated to the dynasty from whose tyranny they had now at last so happily escaped. When they were comfortably settled in their new quarters everyone began speaking at once. Some senators cried out that the memory of the Caesars should be utterly abolished, their statues broken, and their temples destroyed. But the Consuls rose and pleaded for order. ‘One thing at a time, my Lords,’ they said. ‘One thing at a time.’ They called on a senator named Sentius to make a speech – because he always had one ready in his head and was a loud and persuasive orator. They hoped that once somebody began speaking in proper form instead of exchanging random shouts and congratulations and arguments with neighbours, the House would soon settle down to business.
Sentius spoke. ‘My Lords,’ he said, ‘this is well-nigh incredible! Do you realize that we are free at last, no longer slaves to the madness of a tyrant? Oh, I trust that your hearts are all beating as strongly and proudly as mine, though how long this blessed condition will last, who will dare to prophesy? At all events let us enjoy it while we can, and let us be happy. It is nearly a hundred years now since it was possible to announce in this ancient and glorious city, “We are free”; so of course neither you nor I can recall what it felt like in the old days to utter those splendid words, but certainly at the present moment my soul is as buoyant as a cork. How happy are the decrepit old men who at the end of a long life of slavery can breathe their last breath to-day with that sweet phrase on their lips – “We are free”! How instructive, too, for the young men, to whom freedom is but a name, to know what it means when they hear the glad universal cry go up: “We are free”! But, my Lords and gentlemen, we must remember that virtue alone can preserve liberty. The mischief of tyranny is that it discourages virtue. Tyranny teaches flattery and base fear. Under a tyranny we are straws upon the wind of caprice. The first of our tyrants was Julius Caesar. Since his reign there has been no sort of misery which we have not experienced. For there has been a steady decline since Julius in the quality of the Emperors who have been chosen to rule over us. Each has named as successor a man a little worse than himself. These Emperors have hated virtue with a malignant hatred. The worst of them all was this Gaius Caligula – may his ghost suffer torment! – the enemy of both men and Gods. Once a tyrant does an injury to a man, that man is suspected of harbouring resentment even if he gives no sign of it. A criminal charge is trumped up against him and he is condemned without hope of reprieve. That happened to my own brother-in-law, a very worthy, honest knight. But now, I repeat, we are free. Now we are only accountable each to the other. Once more this is a House of frank speech and frank discussion. Let us confess it, we have been cowards, we have lived like slaves, we have heard of intolerable calamities striking at our neighbours, but
so long as they have not struck us we have kept mute. My Lords, let us decree the greatest honours in our power to the tyrannicides, especially to Cassius Chaerea, who has been prime mover in the whole heroic affair. His name should be made more glorious even than that of Brutus, who killed Julius Caesar, or Cassius’s namesake, who stood by this Brutus and also struck a blow; for Brutus and Cassius by their action began a civil war which plunged the country into deepest degradation and misery. Whereas Cassius Chaerea’s action can lead to no such calamity. He has placed himself like a true Roman at the disposal of the Senate and has made us a gift of the precious freedom that has been so long, ah, so long, denied us.’
This puerile speech was applauded vociferously. Somehow nobody considered that Sentius had been one of Caligula’s most notorious flatterers and had even earned the nickname of ‘The Lap-dog’. But the senator sitting next to him suddenly noticed that he was wearing on his finger a gold ring with an enormous cameo portrait of Caligula in coloured glass on it. This senator was another former lap-dog of Caligula’s, but, anxious to excel in republican virtuousness, he snatched the ring off Sentius’s finger and dashed it to the floor. Everyone joined in stamping it to bits. This energetic scene was interrupted by the entry of Cassius Chaerea. He was accompanied by Aquila, ‘The Tiger’, two other Guards officers who had been among the assassins, and Lupus. On entering the Senate Cassius did not waste a single glance on the crowded benches of cheering senators and knights, but marched straight up to the two Consuls and saluted. ‘What is the watchword to-day?’ he asked. The jubilant Senate felt this as the greatest moment of their lives. Under the Republic the Consuls had been joint commanders-in-chief of the forces, unless there happened to be a dictator appointed who took precedence over them; but it had now been over eighty years since they had given out the watchword of the day. The Senior Consul, another of the lap-dog breed, puffed himself up and replied: ‘The watchword, Colonel, is Liberty.’
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