son a strictly Roman education, and had brought him up with a
simplicity and rigor long since out of fashion; and though she had
early given him a wife, she continued to keep him subject to maternal
authority. But, with all this, it is doubtful if there ever was a
temperament which rebelled against this species of education as
strongly as did Nero's. His taste for the arts of drawing and singing,
the indifference which he had shown for the study of oratory from his
childhood, these were the seeds from which as time went on his raging
exoticism was to be developed through the use and abuse of power. His
was one of those rioting, contrary, and undisciplined temperaments
which feel that they must do precisely the opposite of what tradition,
education, and the general opinion of the society in which they live
have prescribed as necessary and recognized as lawful. In the case of
Nero the defects and the dangers in the ancient Roman education were to
become apparent.
The first of these dangers declared itself when Nero entered upon one
of those early marriages of which we have spoken in the first of these
studies. Agrippina had early arranged an alliance with a young lady
who, because of her virtues, nobility of ancestry, and Roman education,
might have become his worthy companion; but a year after his elevation
to the imperial dignity, the eighteen-year-old youth made the
acquaintance of a woman whose beauty inflamed his senses and
imagination to the point of making him entirely forget Octavia, whom he
had married from a sense of duty and not for love. This person was
Acte, a beautiful Asiatic freedwoman, and the inexperienced, ardent
youth, already given up to exotic fancies, became so enamoured that he
one day proposed to repudiate Octavia and to marry Acte. But a
marriage between Nero and Acte was not possible. The _Lex de
maritandis ordinibus_ prohibited marriages between senators and
freedwomen. It was therefore natural that Agrippina should have
opposed it with all her strength. She, the great-granddaughter of
Livia, the granddaughter of Drusus, the daughter of Germanicus,
educated in the strictest ideas of the old Roman aristocracy, could not
permit her son to compromise the prestige of the entire nobility in the
eyes of the lower orders by so scandalous a _mésalliance_. But on this
occasion the youth, carried away by his passion, resisted. If he did
not actually repudiate Octavia, he disregarded her, and began to live
with Acte as if she were his wife. Agrippina insisted that he give up
this scandalous relationship; but in vain. The mother and son
disagreed, and very shortly after having resisted his mother in the
case of Acte, Nero began to resist her on other occasions. With
increasing energy he shook off maternal authority, which up to that
time he had accepted with docility.
This, however, was a crisis which was sooner or later inevitable.
Agrippina had certainly made the mistake of attempting to treat Nero
the emperor too much as she had treated Nero the child; but that the
crisis should have been reached in this manner as the result of a
love-affair, and that it should have provoked a misunderstanding
between the mother and son that was soon to degenerate into hatred, was
most unfortunate. Agrippina, though she enjoyed great prestige, had
also many hidden enemies. Everybody knew that she represented in the
government the old aristocratic, conservative, and economical tendency
of the Claudii,--of Tiberius and of Drusus,--that she looked askance
upon the development of luxurious habits, the relaxation of morals, and
the increase of public and private expenditures. They understood that
she exerted all her influence to prevent wastefulness, the malversation
of public moneys, and in general all outlays for pleasures either in
the state or the imperial family. Her virtues and her stand against
Messalina had given her a great prestige, and the reverence which the
emperor had shown for her had for a long time obliged her enemies to
keep themselves hidden and to hold their peace. But this ceased to be
the case after the incipient discord between her and Nero had allowed
many to foresee the possibility of using Nero against her. In
proportion as Nero became attached to Acte he drew away from his
mother, and in proportion as he withdrew from his mother his
capricious, fantastic, and rebellious temper was encouraged to show
itself in its true light. The party of the new nobility, with its
modern and oriental tendencies, had for ten years been held in check by
the preponderating influence of Agrippina. But gradually, as the
exotic and anti-Roman inclinations of the emperor declared themselves,
this party again became bolder. The memories of the scandals of
Caligula and Messalina were becoming effaced by time, the rather severe
and economical government of Agrippina was showing signs of weakening,
and all minds were beginning to entertain a vague desire for something
new.
[Illustration: The Emperor Nero.]
The two parties which in the times of Augustus had rent Rome asunder
were now being realined in the imperial house and in the senate--the
party of the old nobility, which had Agrippina at its head, and the
party of the modernizing nobility, which was gathering about the
emperor and trying to claim him as its own. Tacitus clearly tells us
that the older and more respectable families of the Roman nobility were
with Agrippina; and even if he had neglected to tell us so, we might
easily have guessed it. For a moment the old, old struggle which had
been the cause of so many tragedies in the upper classes of Rome seemed
once more ready to break forth. But even though Agrippina was the soul
of the party of the old nobility, the party needed a man whom it could
oppose to Nero as a possible and better candidate for the imperial
dignity.
Agrippina, like a true Roman matron of the old type, looked upon the
family merely as an instrument of political power, and therefore
subjected her personal affections to the public interest. She began to
cast her eyes upon Britannicus, the son of Messalina, who was now
becoming a young man and who seemed to be more serious-minded than
Nero. It was even muttered that she thought of giving her own son's
place to the son of Messalina, when suddenly, in 55, Britannicus died
at a dinner at which Nero was present. Was he poisoned by Nero, as
Tacitus says? Although there is no lack of obscurities and
improbabilities in the account of Tacitus, this time the accusation, if
it is not true, is at least much more probable than the other
accusations of the same kind. It is certain that the report that
Britannicus had been poisoned was soon current at Rome, and that it was
believed; and the death of Britannicus was likewise a fatal blow to
Agrippina and her party. Tacitus tells us that the death of
Britannicus caused Agrippina great terror and unspeakable
consternation, and it is not difficult to divine the reasons. Nero now
remained the last and only survivor of the family of Augustus, and it
was therefore no longer possible to bring any effective opposition to
bear upon him by setting up some other member of the family who would
be capable of governing. The new nobility, with its modern tendencies,
now rapidly gained strength, and the influence of Agrippina declined
proportionately.
As a result of the lofty qualities of genius and character with which
she had been endowed, Agrippina had been able to hold the balance of
power in the state as long as she had succeeded in keeping the emperor
under her influence. This had been true in the cases of both Claudius
and Nero. After Nero escaped from her influence, or, rather, after he
had turned against her, her prestige and her power rapidly diminished,
and her party lost greatly in size and in power. Although personally
the emperor was youthful and weak, the dignity of his office made him
more powerful than all the members of his family, however energetic and
intelligent they might be. At this period, furthermore, Nero was
supported by an entire party which was daily increasing in strength and
in numbers, for, as always happens in eras of prosperity and peace, the
temper of the time was tending toward a milder, gentler, more liberal
government, and consequently one which would be less authoritative and
severe.
Agrippina, however, was an energetic woman, not easily discouraged, and
she continued the struggle. Consequently for two years longer, even in
the midst of strife, intrigues, and suspicions, she preserved a
considerable influence, and was able to check the progress of the
government in its new direction. This was either because Nero, though
no longer exactly obedient to his mother's will, was still too weak,
too undecided, and too deeply involved in the ideas of his earlier
education to attempt an open revolt against her, or it was because
Seneca and Burrhus wisely sought to conciliate the ultra-conservative
ideas of the mother with the newer tendencies of the son.
The definitive break with his mother and with her political
ideas,--that is, with the ideas which had been professed by her
ancestors,--came in 58, when Nero forgot Acte for Poppaea Sabina. The
latter belonged to one of those great Roman families into which the new
spirit and the new customs had most deeply penetrated. Rich,
beautiful, avaricious of luxuries and pleasures, possessed of an
unbridled personal ambition, she had attracted Nero to herself, and, in
order to become empress, gave the uncertain youth the decisive impulse
which was to transform the disciple of Agrippina and the grandson of
Germanicus into the prodigal and dissolute emperor of history. She
encouraged in him his desire to please the populace, and certainly
never checked his love for Greece and the Orient, which resulted
finally in his mania of everywhere imitating the example of Asia and of
taking up again, though to be sure less wildly, the policies of
Caligula. Tacitus tells us that she continually reproved Nero for his
simple customs, his inelegant manners, and his rude tastes. She held
up to him, both as an example and as a reproach, the elegance and
luxury of her husband, who was indeed one of the most refined and
pompous members of the degenerate Roman nobility. Poppaea, in short,
gave herself up to the task of reshaping the education of Nero and of
destroying the results of Agrippina's patient labor. Nor was this all.
She even became, with her restricted intelligence, his adviser in
politics. She persuaded him that the policy of authority and economy
which his mother had desired was rendering him unpopular, and she
suggested the idea of a policy of liberality toward the people which
would win him the affection of the masses. After he had fallen in love
with Poppaea Sabina, Nero, who up to that time had shown no
considerable initiative in affairs of state, elaborated and proposed to
the senate many revolutionary projects for favoring the populace. He
finally proposed that they abolish all the _vectigalia_ of the empire;
that is, all indirect taxes, all tolls and duties of whatever sort.
The measure would certainly have been most popular, and there was much
discussion about it in the senate; but the conservatives showed that
the finances of the empire would be ruined and persuaded Nero not to
insist. Nero, however, wished to bring about some reform which would
help the masses, and he gave orders in an edict that the rates of all
the _vectigalia_ be published; that at Rome the pretor, and in the
provinces the propretor and proconsul, should summarily decide all
suits against the tax-farmers and that the soldiers should be exempt
from these same _vectigalia_.
[Illustration: The death of Agrippina.]
Though some of these reforms were just, this new policy was also the
cause of the final rupture with his mother. Agrippina and Nero, to all
intents and purposes, no longer saw each other, and Nero, on the few
visits which he was obliged to pay her in order to save appearances,
always arranged it so as never to be left alone in her presence. In
this manner the influence of Agrippina continued to decline, while the
popularity of Nero steadily increased as the result of his youth, of
these first reforms, and of the hopes to which his prodigality had
given rise. The public, whose memory is always brief, forgot what
Agrippina had done and how she had brought back peace to the state, and
began to expect all sorts of new benefits from Nero. Poppaea,
encouraged by the increasing popularity of the emperor, insisted more
boldly that Nero, in order to make her his wife, should divorce Octavia.
But Agrippina was not the woman to yield thus easily, and she continued
the struggle against her son, against his paramour, and against the
growing coterie which was gathering about the emperor. She opposed
particularly the repudiation of Octavia, which, being merely the result
of a pure caprice, would have caused serious scandal in Rome. But Nero
was even now hesitating and uncertain. He still had too clearly before
him the memory of the long authority of his mother; he feared her too
much to dare step forth in open and complete revolt. At last Poppaea
understood that she could not become empress so long as the mother
lived, and from that moment the doom of Agrippina was sealed. Poppaea
was goaded on by all the new friends of Nero, who wished to destroy
forever the influence of Agrippina, and by her words and deeds she
finally brought him to the point where he decided to kill his mother.
But to murder his mother was both an abominable and dangerous
undertaking, for it meant killing the daughter of Germanicus--killing
that woman whom the people regarded with a semi-religious veneration as
a portent of fortune; for she was the daughter of a man whom only a
premature death had prevented from becoming the head of the empire, and
she had been the sister, the wife, and the mother of emperors. For
this reason the manner of her taking-off had been long debated in order
that it might remain secret; nor would Nero make his decision until a
seemingly safe means had been discovered for bringing about the
disappearance of Agrippina.
It was the freedman Anicetus, the commander of the fleet, who, in the
spring of 59, made the proposal when Nero was with his court at Baiae,
on the Bay of Naples. They were to construct a vessel which, as
Tacitus says, should open artfully on one side. If Nero could induce
his mother to embark upon that vessel, Anicetus would see to it that
she and the secret of her murder would be buried in the depths of the
sea. Nero gave his consent to this abominable plan. He pretended that
he was anxious to become reconciled with his mother, and invited her to
come from Antium, where she then was, to Baiae. He showed her all
regard and every courtesy, and when Agrippina, reassured by the
kindness of her son, set out on her return to Antium, Nero accompanied
her to the fatal vessel and tenderly embraced her. It was a calm,
starry night. Agrippina stood talking with one of her freedwomen about
the repentance of her son and the reconciliation which had taken place,
when, after the vessel had drawn some distance away from the shore, the
plotters tried to carry out their infernal plan. What happened is not
very clear. The seemingly picturesque description of Tacitus is in
reality vague and confusing. It appears that the ship did not sink so
rapidly as the plotters had hoped, and in the confusion which resulted
on board, the emperor's mother, ready and resolute, succeeded in making
her escape by casting herself into the sea and swimming away, while the
hired assassins on the ship killed her freedwoman, mistaking her for
Agrippina.
In any case, it is certain that Agrippina arrived safely at one of her
villas along the coast, with the help, it seems, of a vessel which she
had encountered as she swam, and that she immediately sent one of her
freedmen to apprise Nero of the danger from which she had escaped
through the kindness of the gods and his good fortune! Agrippina had
guessed the truth, but for this one time she gave up the struggle and
sent her messenger, that it might be understood, without her saying so,
that she forgot and pardoned. Indeed, what means were left her, a
lonely woman, of coping with an emperor who dared raise his hand
against his own mother?
However, fear prevented Nero from understanding. No sooner had he
learned that Agrippina had escaped than he lost his head. In his
imagination he saw her hastening to Rome and denouncing the horrible
matricide to the soldiers and the senate; and beside himself with
terror, he sent for Seneca and Burrhus in order to take counsel with
them. It is easy to imagine what the feelings of the two teachers of
the youth must have been as they listened to the terrible story. Even
they failed to understand that Agrippina recognized and declared
herself conquered. They, too, feared that she would provoke the most
frightful scandal which Rome had yet seen, and not knowing what advice
to give, or rather seeing only a single way out, which was, however,
too serious and horrible, they held their peace while Nero begged them
to save him. At last Seneca, the humanitarian philosopher, turned to
Burrhus and asked him what would happen if the pretorians should be
ordered to kill Agrippina. Burrhus understood that Seneca, though he
was the first to give the terrible advice, yet wished to leave to him
the more serious responsibility of carrying it into execution; for
Burrhus, as commander of the guards, would have had to give the order
for the murder. He therefore hastened to say that the pretorians would
never kill the daughter of Germanicus, and then added that if they
really wished to do away with Agrippina, the best plan would be for
Anicetus to carry out the work which he had begun. His advice was the
same as Seneca's, but he turned over to a third person the very grave
responsibility for its execution. He had, however, chosen this third
person more wisely than Seneca, for Anicetus could not refuse. If
Agrippina lived, it was he who ran the risk of becoming the scapegoat
for all this bloody and horrible adventure.
As a matter of fact, Anicetus accepted. The freedman whom Agrippina
had sent to announce her misfortune was imprisoned and put in chains,
in order to convey the impression that he had been captured carrying
concealed weapons and in the act of making an attempt upon the
emperor's life by the order of his mother. Anicetus then hastened to
the villa of Agrippina and surrounded it with a body of sailors. He
entered the house, and with two officers rushed into the room where
Agrippina, reclining upon a couch, was talking with a servant, and
killed her. Tacitus tells us that when Agrippina saw one of the
officers unsheathe his sword, she asked him to thrust her through the
body which had borne her son.
Thus died the last woman of the house of Augustus, and, with the
exception of Livia, the most remarkable feminine figure in that family.
She died like a soldier, on duty and at her post, bravely defending the
social and political traditions of the Roman aristocracy and the
time-honored principles of Romanism against the influx of those new
forces of a later age which were seeking to orientalize the ancient
Latin republic. She died for her family, for her caste, and for Rome,
without even having the reward of being remembered with dutiful regard
by posterity; for in this struggle she had sacrificed not merely her
life, but even her honor and her fame. Such, furthermore, was the
common destiny of all the members of this family, and if we except
Livia and Augustus, the privileged pair who founded it, we are at a
loss to know whether to call it the most fortunate or the most unhappy
of all the families of the ancient world. It is impossible for the
historian who understands this terrible drama, filled with so many
catastrophes, not to feel a certain impression of horror at the
vindictive ferocity that Rome showed to this house, which, in order to
bring back Rome's peace and to preserve her empire, had been fated to
exalt itself a few degrees above the ordinary level of the ancient
aristocracy. Men and women, the young and the old, the knaves and the
large-hearted, the sages and the fools of the family, alike, all
without exception, were persecuted and plotted against. And again, if
we except the persons of the two founders, and those who, like Drusus
and Germanicus, had the good fortune to die young, Rome deprived them
all, deprived even Antonia, of either their life or their greatness or
their honor, and not infrequently it robbed them of all these three
together. Those who, like Tiberius and Agrippina, defended the ancient
Roman tradition, were hated, hounded, and defamed with a no less angry
fury than Caligula and Nero, who sought to destroy it. No one of them,
whatever his tendencies or intentions, succeeded in making himself
understood by his times or by posterity; it was their common fate to be
misunderstood, and therefore horribly calumniated. The destiny of the
women was even more tragic than that of the men, for the times demanded
from them, as a compensation for the great honor of belonging to this
privileged family, that they possess all the rarest and most difficult
virtues.
What was the cause of all this? we ask. How were so many catastrophes
possible, and how could tradition have erred so grievously? It is
almost a crime that posterity should virtually always have studied and
pondered this immense tragedy of history on the basis of the crude and
superficial falsification of it which Tacitus has given us. For few
episodes in general history impress so powerfully upon the mind the
fact that the progress of the world is one of the most tragic of its
phenomena. Especially is such knowledge necessary to the favored
generations of prosperous and easy times. He who has not lived in
those years when an old world is disappearing and a new one making its
way cannot realize the tragedy of life, for at such times the old is
still sufficiently strong to resist the assaults of the new, and the
latter, though growing, is not yet strong enough to annihilate that
world on the ruins of which alone it will be able to prosper. Men are
then called upon to solve insoluble problems and to attempt enterprises
which are both necessary and impossible. There is confusion
everywhere, in the mind within and in the world without. Hate often
separates those who ought to aid one another, since they are tending
toward the same goal, and sympathy binds men together who are forced to
do battle with one another. At such times women generally suffer more
than men, for every change which occurs in their situation seems more
dangerous, and it is right that it should be so. For woman is by
nature the vestal of our species, and for that reason she must be more
conservative, more circumspect, and more virtuous than man. There is
no state or civilization which has comprehended the highest things in
life which has not been forced to instil into its women rather than
into its men the sense for all those virtues upon which depend the
stability of the family and the future of the race. And for every era
this is a question of life and death. In such periods when one world
is dying and another coming to birth, all conceptions become confused,
and all attempts bring forth bizarre results. He who wishes to
preserve, often destroys, so that virtue seems vice, and vice seems
virtue. Precisely for this reason it is more difficult for a woman
than for a man to succeed in fulfilling her proper mission, for she is
more exposed to the danger of losing her way and of missing her
particular function; and since she is more likely to fail in realizing
her natural destiny, she is more likely to be doomed to a life of
misfortune.
Such was the fate of the family of Augustus, and such especially was
the fate of its women. The strangers who visit Rome often go out on
Sunday afternoons to listen to the excellent music that can be heard in
a room which is situated in one of the little streets near the Piazza
del Popolo and which used to be called the Corea. This hall was built
over an ancient Roman ruin of circular form which any one can still see
as he enters. That ruin is the entrance to the tomb which Augustus
built on the Flaminian Way for himself and his family. Nearly all of
the personages whose story we have told were buried in that mausoleum.
If any reader who has followed this history should one day find himself
at Rome, listening to a concert in that old Corea, which has now been
renamed after the Emperor Augustus, let him give a thought to those
victims of a terrible story of long ago, and may he remember that here,
where at the beginning of the twentieth century he listens to the flow
of rivers of sweet sound--here only, twenty centuries ago, could the
members of the family of Augustus find refuge from their tragic fate,
and after so much greatness, resolved to dust and ashes, rest at last
in peace.