In the course of this study there have come within our view some of the
noblest women of whom the history of the world can boast. We have seen
women of exalted purity in high positions, stately, dignified matrons,
women renowned for intellect and noble spirit, women who have bravely
endured unmerited suffering; we have also noted the women of the common
people, and the gay ladies who ministered to love and laughter. But our
account will be incomplete, the picture will not be a true one, unless
it also represents the worst that human nature has produced, women
stained with some of the basest crimes recorded in the annals of human
depravity. It is a story in which the sober truth can only be told in
superlative terms. What Scipio feared and Cato endeavored to prevent
came to pass; and at the time when Rome centred in herself all the power
and glory of the world, she also reached the climax of the vice and
degradation of all ages.
The moral conditions which characterized the period between the reigns
of Tiberius and Nero are, in these days, impossible of adequate
comprehension. It was a continuous Saturnalia, a perpetual reign of
terror, a paroxysm of indecency. What renders the situation so amazing
and so difficult to describe is its strange mixture of civilization and
savagery, of art and anarchy. The atrocious cruelties which render the
history of that time so terrible and the lust which makes it so
revolting are not attributed to half-clad barbarians or ignorant
Asiatics; they were participated in by men and women whose outward life
was marked and distinguished by all the signs and appointments of
culture. The Julias and the Poppæas of the age were women who lived in
beautiful houses; they were surrounded by a magnificence of art such as
never since has been witnessed; they were the students of a literature
which the world has never ceased to admire. Nor was the extravagant
wickedness of the time a revolt against law; on the contrary, everything
was done in accordance with legal forms. Vistilia, the wife of a Roman
knight, in order that she might be unrestrained in her lasciviousness,
went before the ædiles and proclaimed herself a prostitute, the law
considering that prostitutes were sufficiently punished by merely thus
avowing their shame. Even when the innocent children of Sejanus were put
to death for the misdeeds of their father, the little girl--who asked
what she had done that was wrong and if they were going to whip
her--must be outraged by the executioner before he strangled her; for it
was unlawful to inflict capital punishment upon virgins. While such
things were being perpetrated, the ladies of Rome were studying the
Greek philosophers, reading their own Virgil, and improving their
diction by an acquaintance with the elegant periods of Cicero. It was an
age in which the arts of civilization were entirely divorced from the
best impulses of humanity, an age when the highest mental attainments
were joined with the lowest moral conditions. The depraved Messalina was
contemporary with the philosophic Seneca; the conscienceless Agrippina
the Younger was a student of letters and an author.
It is easy to perceive that the cruelty and lust which render the
history of the first two centuries of the Christian era so lurid are
simply the natural developments from preceding conditions. The
proscriptions and massacres of Sylla and the two triumvirates could but
produce a society which would witness bloodshed with apathy, if not with
delight. The total disregard of the sacredness of matrimonial vows, when
political purposes were to be served, necessarily resulted in a
generation of women among whom chastity was a matter of indifference and
honor a thing unknown. Given a society thus, by heritage and training,
predisposed to inhumanity and licentiousness, and it only needed the
presence of favorable conditions for the introduction upon the imperial
stage of a company of women upon whose actions the world has ever since
gazed with profound amazement. Such conditions were then present in Rome
in such a degree as they have never been at any other time or among any
other people. The age was propitious and the circumstances were ripe for
a climax in human depravity. The spoil of the conquered world provided
Rome with incalculable riches; the Empire was the prize of him who could
win and hold it, and of her who could maintain her position by the side
of the ruler; power and the absence of restraint gave free rein to
impulses which the existent conditions necessarily rendered evil. This
was the _entourage_ of the women of Rome under the first emperors. The
ladies of the nobility were trained and urged to cruelty and
prostitution by the exigencies of their position; the women of the
common class, for whom tributary bread and sanguinary spectacles were
freely provided, were impelled in the same direction by example and
idleness.
The acme of female turpitude was attained by Messalina, whose name has
ever since served as a byword for unparalleled incontinence. Valeria
Messalina was the great-granddaughter of Octavia, the sister of
Augustus, both on her father's and her mother's side; thus in her veins
united a twofold stream of the sacred Julian blood, which fact she never
allowed herself to forget while insisting upon her demands, though it
had no restraining effect upon her conduct. When only sixteen years of
age, she became the third wife of the feeble, half-imbecile Claudius;
one of her predecessors was Plautia Urgulanilla, the daughter of that
proud Urgulania whose debts Livia Augusta had been compelled to pay.
Plautia was divorced for "scandalous lewdness" and on the suspicion of
murder, after she had given birth to two children, the youngest of whom
Claudius exposed, being convinced that it had no just claims upon his
paternal authority. But his honor as a husband was far less safe with
Messalina than it had been with Plautia. That she should have any
affection for the doddering, gormandizing old man--he was nearly
fifty--was hardly to be expected. During the first three years after the
marriage, her position was comparatively private, her husband having no
expectation of attaining to the imperial throne.
During the reign of the demented Caligula, the women of the court
present no figure of political importance, and are not interesting
except as they illustrate the depravity of the times. This emperor was
possessed with an exaggerated idea of the divinity that was inherent in
the Augustan race. Therefore he deemed that, like the kings of Egypt, he
should conserve that dignity by marrying his own sister. Suetonius will
have us believe that all three of the sisters of Caligula were
dishonored by their brother; but Drusilla was his favorite. She had been
given to Cassius Longinus, but Caligula took her from him and kept her
as though she were his lawful wife. He made a will appointing her
heiress of his private estates and also of the Empire; and at her death
he ordered for her a public mourning, and threatened capital punishment
against any person who should laugh or bathe or seek any amusement
during the period. It was also declared that she had been received among
the heavenly deities; and as Panthea, the universal goddess, her worship
was enjoined upon all the cities of Italy and the provinces.
The other sisters, Agrippina and Julia, became involved in a conspiracy
with Marcus Æmillius Lepidus against the life of their brother; and when
the plot was discovered, though the lives of these women were
spared,--probably owing to Caligula's intense respect for the Julian
blood,--their property was confiscated and they were both sent into
exile. Agrippina, however, was first compelled to perform a most
unpleasant office. The family of Lepidus begged that his ashes might
rest in the family mausoleum at Rome, and the disordered mind of
Caligula recalled a journey which his mother had made, bearing the ashes
of Germanicus. So he forced Agrippina, who had schemed to marry Lepidus
in the hope of gaining for him the succession, to carry the urn that
contained his remains from Germany to Rome, and never once allowed her,
night or day, to rest from bearing her burden.
Of the wives of Caligula, Suetonius says: "Whether in repudiating them
or retaining them he acted with greater infamy, it is difficult to say."
Being at the wedding of Caius Piso with Livia Orestilla, he ordered the
bride to be carried to his own house; but within a few days divorced
her, and two years after banished her, because, as was thought, upon her
divorce she had returned to her former husband. Lollia Paulina, who was
married to a man of consular rank in command of an army, having been
mentioned to Caligula as much resembling her grandmother, who had been
a famous beauty, the emperor suddenly called her from the province where
she resided with her husband, and married her; but he soon repudiated
her, interdicting her from ever afterward marrying another man. He loved
with a most passionate and constant affection Cæsonia, who was neither
handsome nor young, and who was the mother of three daughters by another
man; but she was a woman of excessive wantonness. He would frequently
exhibit her to the soldiers, riding by his side, dressed in a military
cloak, with shield and helmet. To his friends he showed her in a guise
far less elaborate and much more improper. After she had borne a child
to him, she was honored with the title of wife. Caligula named the
infant Julia Drusilla, and, carrying it around the temples of all the
goddesses, he laid it on the lap of Minerva, from whom he begged the
care of bringing up and instructing this daughter. He considered her as
his own child, for no better reason than that her temper was so savage
that even in infancy she would attack with her nails the faces and eyes
of the children at play with her.
Cæsonia could hardly have enjoyed her position, especially on those
occasions when her demoniacal husband would amuse himself with the idea
of having it in his power to sever her neck at any time that it might
please him so to do. She was killed at the time of his assassination;
and, fortunately, her vicious offspring perished with her. The manner in
which Cæsonia met her death seems to indicate that the woman not only
possessed courage, but also that she cherished some sort of affection
for her husband. The conspirators hesitated over the question as to
whether she should share his fate; but it was only for a few minutes. It
was believed by many that it was through her love philtres and
licentious practices that his mind had become disordered and that
therefore she was, in a sense, the author of his evil doings. It being
determined that she should die, the men who went in search of her found
Cæsonia embracing the body of Caligula as it lay upon the ground, and
they heard her bewailing the fact that he had not been governed by her
advice. Whether that advice had been to restrain himself in his madness,
or to follow with vengeful measures a clue which she had given him in
regard to the conspiracy, those who heard her could not decide. Their
minds were predisposed to believe in the latter explanation. When she
saw Lupus, the man who had her death in charge, approaching, she sat up,
all besmeared as she was with her husband's blood, and, baring her
throat, requested the assassin not to be awkward in finishing the
tragedy. She received the death stroke cheerfully, and the little
daughter, who was by her mother's side, perished by the same sword.
To his own intense astonishment, Claudius suddenly found himself
proclaimed and accepted as Emperor of the Romans. There is no evidence
to show that Messalina had anticipated this change of fortunes any more
than had her husband. Finding herself, however, in the position of
empress, she had no mind to do otherwise than maintain herself secure in
its enjoyment. The times were such that this could be done only by means
of merciless expedients. This fact should constantly be kept in mind as
we study the women of imperial Rome. No individual can be governed by
the ideas that are prevalent in the society in which he lives and, at
the same time, dispense with the methods ordinarily employed by that
society. The Romans of the period which we are now reviewing believed
that the best, as well as the easiest, way in which to placate an enemy
or to outwit a rival was to destroy him. Messalina had no desire to do
better than her surroundings warranted; in fact, she represents the
climax of immorality. There were two causes which led her freely to
dispense destruction among her associates. First, there were plenty of
women who would gladly have rivalled her in the affection of the amorous
Claudius; and while she did not in the least reciprocate her husband's
affection, its retention was necessary to the maintenance of her
position. Again, her innumerable amours were constantly furnishing
weapons against herself, and it was only by inspiring dread that she
could restrain her enemies from making use of them to her own
destruction.
In such a position as she found herself, and among such surroundings, it
is not surprising that Messalina was bad. Raised, when only a mere girl,
to a dizzy height; flattered and sought after by all the most dissolute
of the imperial court; the wife of a doting husband who, as she quickly
discovered, was absolutely under her influence; all this would have
tested a woman in whose character good impulses were perceptibly
present. So far as can be learned, Messalina possessed no such impulses;
on the contrary, everything in her contributed to the strength of the
evil influences of her environment. Her glaring immoralities, combined
with the consummate art with which she contrived to befool her husband,
have rendered this woman's history a monument of conjugal infidelity for
all the ages.
We may be fairly certain as to Messalina's personal appearance, for
there are a number of cameos and busts of her in existence, though, of
course, some of these are ideal and others are not well executed. Baring
Gould, who has made a careful study of the sculptured portraits of the
Cæsarian family, regards it as certain that in the onyx cameo which is
in the Cabinet of Antiques at Vienna and in the bust now preserved in
the Uffizi Palace we have what may be considered correct representations
of Messalina. Of the former, he says: "The hair is arranged in small
curls covered with a species of crown wreathed with corn. This is the
usual mark of the deification of an empress as Ceres. The brow is low,
the nose straight and a little retrousse at the end, the mouth
remarkable for the thinness of the lips; the chin is not prominent, and
a peculiar feature is the slope from the chin to the throat, forming a
marked contrast in formation to that of Livia opposite. The mouth turns
down, but there is a slight contraction in the corner." Of the bust, he
tells us: "The profile there has a remarkable likeness to the
type-giving face on the cameo. The hair is in curls, but hangs down in
plaits behind, the brow is low, the eyes full, and the mouth with its
thin lips and cruel expression seems thoroughly to express the character
of the woman as known to us by history. The head is flat. There is
insolence in the mouth, and a curl in the corner, noticeable also in the
gem. One eye is larger than the other. They are not in line. The nose
has been restored, so that we cannot compare it with that on the cameo.
The rest agrees perfectly, though the slope from the chin is not so
perceptible in the bust owing to the difference in position of the head.
The brows are straight, not arched. Not only are the eyes of different
shapes, but the chin is on one side. The end of the chin is square, the
mouth is small, the lips fuller on the left side than on the right, and
the right corner drawn up. The expression of the face is different when
seen from each side, owing to the singular lack of uniformity in the
sides of the face. In the same gallery is a so-called young Britannicus,
and the resemblance of this child, as far as the formation of the lower
part of the head goes, to the Messalina above described is remarkable.
Still more remarkable is that of the beautiful statue in the Lateran,
where the resemblance is very close. The boy's lips are fuller, but the
whole structure of the jaws and chin, and the curl of the lower lip,
are the same as in the Messalina of Florence. If this be Britannicus,
then the bust at Florence is that of his mother; and it is hard to say
who else can be intended by this charming statue in military costume.
"A medical man of large experience, who at my request studied the bust
of Messalina in the Florence gallery, informs me that it is that of a
woman physically unsound; the flattening of the top of the head
indicates an imperfect mental development, and the general aspect of the
face, evidently a close study from life without any attempt at hiding
blemishes and idealizing, is that of a woman whose span of life would
naturally be short. There would probably be malformation of the chest.
The face is that of one with feverish blood, whose flame of life burnt
too fast. The face is not in itself sensual, nor at all animal, but it
is insolent and cruel. The low, flat brow as well as the low, flat head
show that she was deficient in all the higher and nobler qualities. In
this bust the formation of the throat is peculiar. M. Mayor remarks:
'Thin lips, evil smile, ears hardly visible, jaw advancing and
remarkably massive, eyes close together, profoundly sunk under their
arcade, nostrils fine and flexible, lips asymmetrical, the upper lip
lifted on the right, as in a beast prepared to bite, the same
characteristic feature observed in Caligula and commented on by Darwin.
Facial asymmetry. The left eye highest and furthest from the nose (the
same noticeable in Nero and Claudius, etc.). The look cruel rather than
voluptuous. An ironical smile, the by no means uncommon mask worn by
pathological corruption and nymphomania,'" M. Menière, in a book
entitled _Medical Studies from the Latin Poets_, also gives it as his
opinion that Messalina was a victim of nymphomania. He says: "At the
Salpêtrière, there are Messalinas, cases which have absolutely nothing
to do with morals." This probably may safely be accepted as the true
explanation of the case, if one can rid one's mind of two suspicions.
The first of these is that this much-talked-of asymmetry may be nothing
other than inferior or careless artistic work. The sculptor may not have
been able, or he may not have given himself the time, to carve both
sides of the face so absolutely alike as to defy the criticism of sharp
scientists, bent on discovering a cause for the poetical effect found in
Juvenal and others. The mention of the satirist suggests our second
suspicion, which is that in his astonishing account of the criminal
appetites of Messalina he is straining after effect.
Now, in regard to the first of these suspicions, we have the assurance
of eminent students of art that, in their sculpture, the Romans were
exceedingly jealous of exact representation. Viktor Rydberg says: "It is
impossible to reproach the Roman art of portraiture with flattery. It
gave what the Romans insisted on--rigid fidelity to nature. It made no
exception in favor of the Cæsars and their house, not even for the
women. Proofs of this almost repulsive fidelity to nature are to be
found. An empress, arrived at a more than mature age, is to be
represented as Venus. It is possible that she would be glad to decline
the honor. She belongs to that period in life when old ladies drape
their withered beauties; but she has duties as Cæsar's spouse, and must
resign herself to her fate. The goddess of love was the ancestress of
the Julian race; and so her attributes, but not her beauty, descend to
the empress. The artist has to immortalize her undraped charms, and he
does it with almost brutal frankness, so that the little cupid, with
finger to his mouth, at her feet, seems to sigh: 'Oh! for a curtain.'"
All this may be very true of particular instances; but we know that
there were cases when the artist did idealize, as would any sculptor who
would place the head of a Cæsar on the trunk of a Greek god, if he were
so required. Again, at no period of the world's history has the
fraternity of artists been undiversified by members of varying ability,
and the task of representing Messalina may have fallen into the hands of
an inferior workman. Yet, after all, it is quite possible that the
asymmetry in question may have characterized the face of the voluptuous
empress; still, it should require something more than a little
inequality of feature in a statue not absolutely identified to cause to
accept, without a large grain of salt, Juvenal's statement in regard to
the wife of Claudius. That Messalina was in the habit of stealing forth
from the imperial palace at night to occupy a booth in a brothel as a
common demirep under the name of Lycisca is almost too improbable for
credence. It is possible that in this Juvenal enlarges on some allusion
made by Agrippina the Younger, who wrote the empress's memoirs and who
was never a friend to Messalina.
The palace of Claudius was full of freedmen--men who had been
emancipated from slavery and had found the means to amass wealth and
attain influence--and of Greek adventurers. These men performed services
for the emperor and his wife which as yet were not submitted to by the
aristocratic or even the equestrian families. Such men as these had been
the only associates of Claudius before his advancement, and they
retained great influence with him during his reign. Messalina also was
obliged to consider them. Their silence, in regard to her intrigues, had
to be purchased; she was obliged to ally herself with them, in order
that she might retain her influence over her husband; their selling of
appointments and taking of bribes she had to countenance; and at last
she fell into their toils and was brought to ruin by their
machinations.
At the commencement of the reign of Claudius, the two sisters of
Caligula, Julia and Agrippina, were recalled from exile and their
property restored to them. They were the daughters of Germanicus,
descendants of the great Augustus; therefore, it was not long before
they were the centre of a clique of dissatisfied nobles. Julia, who was
as unprincipled as she was beautiful, seemed to attract the attention of
Claudius. This was an offence which Messalina could not brook. Whatever
might be the extent of her own failings, she could not afford to run the
slightest risk of encountering a rival in the affections of the emperor.
It is remarkable, in an age of unparalleled laxity of morals, that when
means were sought by which to bring about the destruction of an enemy,
an accusation of adultery was usually successful. Those Romans were
human enough to condemn in others what they condoned in themselves.
Think of Messalina preaching of morals! She preferred charges of
incontinence against Julia, and induced the easily influenced emperor to
send the unfortunate woman back to exile, where she was quickly followed
by an assassin under the orders of the empress. This incident is all the
more memorable on account of the fact that Seneca, whose conduct never
very closely conformed to his teaching, was accused of being the
accomplice of Julia and was banished at the same time. The fate of her
sister was a warning to Agrippina. She saw how necessary it was to use
wariness in order that she might not offend, or at least that she might
not fall under the power of the empress; and Messalina, though she far
outdid her in vice, was no match for the clever politician, Agrippina.
It would prove as tiresome as it would be unprofitable to recount all
the instances with which history illustrates Messalina's cruelty and
licentiousness; and even though our object be to show to what depths of
iniquity woman may descend under certain conditions, we will only refer
to a few incidents in the empress's profligate career. The first victim
of her power and criminality was her own stepfather, Silanus; Suetonius
conjectures that the reason for her resentment against her relative was
that he disdained her improper advances. The manner of his taking-off
was unique and indicates a genius for the invention of plots which may
well be envied by the modern romancist. One morning, Narcissus, a
favorite freedman, rushed into the presence of Claudius, showing signs
of the intensest alarm. He had dreamed that the emperor had been killed
by the hand of Silanus. Soon afterward, Messalina appeared and inquired
with much perturbation of manner as to the safety of her husband. Her
rest had been broken and her mind alarmed by a dream similar to that of
Narcissus. Other things were insinuated which seemed to warrant this
great and concurrent alarm on the part of the emperor's friends, so
that, his fears being thus cunningly worked upon, he at once gave orders
for the execution of Silanus.
Messalina was bent on acquiring for herself two desirable pieces of
property. One was the beautiful gardens which had been commenced by
Lucullus, and completed on a most magnificent scale by Valerius
Asiaticus; the other was Mnester, a famous actor of that time. The
gardens were owned by Asiaticus; and Poppæa, who was one of the most
beautiful women of her day, seemed to interest the actor more than did
the empress. The latter determined to remove both these hindrances to
her desires at one stroke. She bribed Suillus, a man in high position
and notoriously venal, to accuse Asiaticus and Poppæa of being engaged
in an improper intrigue. Against the former, charges of a baser nature
were included and acts prejudicial to the safety of the emperor were
insinuated. Tacitus informs us that the unfortunate man was not allowed
a hearing before the Senate, but was tried privately in a chamber of the
palace and in the presence of Messalina. When speaking in his own
defence, he wrought so powerfully upon the feelings of Claudius that he
would certainly have been acquitted; but Messalina, who could not
restrain her own tears, as she left the room, whispered to Vitellius:
"Let not the accused escape." Then followed an exhibition of perfidy in
which it is doubtful if a mere Judas would have been unprincipled enough
to take the leading part. Vitellius began in the most sympathetic manner
to plead with the emperor--who was already meditating the acquittal of
Asiaticus--to remember the great services which had been rendered by the
accused to the State, and to exercise clemency by allowing Asiaticus to
choose his own mode of death; a sort of clemency to which Claudius
readily consented. Thus Messalina's purpose was so far attained. "She
hastened herself to accomplish the doom of Poppæa, by suborning persons
to drive her to a voluntary end by the terrors of imprisonment; a
catastrophe of which the emperor was so utterly unapprised, that a few
days after, as her husband Scipio was at table with him, he asked why he
had not brought his wife. Scipio answered that she was no more."
The Vitellius who accomplished the above described piece of finesse with
such diplomacy was the father of the future emperor of the same name.
His chief characteristic was his extraordinary facility and lack of
conscience in the use of flattery. When asked by Caligula if Vitellius
had not seen the emperor in conversation with Diana, Vitellius answered
that it was not permitted to mere mortals like himself to witness the
intercourse of deities. On one occasion, in the presence of Claudius, he
begged the gift of one of Messalina's slippers. His request being
granted by the empress, he placed his acquisition in his bosom, and ever
afterward, at opportune moments, would draw it forth and kiss it in most
devoted fashion. Thus he strongly entrenched himself in the favor of
Messalina, and the modesty of his request did not lower him in the
estimation of her husband.
In April of A.D. 47 occurred the centenary festival of the founding of
Rome. Vitellius saluted the emperor with: "May you often repeat these
celebrations." During the games, there took place an incident which was
of special interest to Agrippina, the rival of Messalina, and which
might easily have ended disastrously for her. The respective sons of
these two women appeared in one of the games. Britannicus was then six
years of age and Nero was nine; it was the first appearance of the
latter upon that stage which it was afterward his unworthy ambition to
hold. On this occasion, the populace were so inconsiderate as to place
Agrippina and her son in a position of great jeopardy by showing for
them the most enthusiastic partiality, while Britannicus was received in
that silence which denoted ill will to his mother.
Messalina was at this time meditating an enterprise which eclipsed all
her former exploits and which she probably thought would conclusively
determine her own future and that of her son. Thus Tacitus recounts the
story: "She was so vehemently enamored of Caius Silius, the handsomest
of the Roman youth, that she obliged him to divorce his wife, Julia
Silana, a lady of high quality, and had him to herself. Nor was Silius
blind to the danger and the malignity of his crime; but, as it was
certain destruction to decline her suit, and there were some hopes of
beguiling Claudius, and great rewards being held out to him, he was
content to enjoy the present advantages and take the chance of what
might happen thereafter. The empress proceeded not stealthily, but went
to his house frequently, with a numerous train, accompanied him
incessantly abroad, loaded him with presents and honors; and at last, as
if the fortune of the Empire had been transferred with the emperor's
wife, at the house of Silius were now seen the slaves, freedmen, and
equipage of the prince."
All this time, Claudius, ignorant of the conduct of his wife,--a fact
which must be attributed to the complete subjection under which he was
held by Messalina and the freedmen,--was exercising the functions of
moral censor and rebuking the people for the immorality of their
conduct. What a spectacle to men, not to speak of the ancient deities,
must have been the Roman government of those days! It is easy to see the
connection between the licentiousness of the times and the decline of
the State.
Messalina, a course of the most promiscuous and unrestrained
licentiousness having produced satiety, now proceeded to an act of which
the emperors had many times set the example: she repudiated Claudius,
and united herself with matrimonial solemnities to Silius. Caius
Caligula had dismissed one wife to make room for another with scant if
any ceremony; but for a woman to do the same thing was another matter.
Tacitus says: "I am aware that it will appear fabulous that any human
beings should have exhibited such recklessness of consequences; and
that, in a city where everything was known and talked of, anyone, much
more a consul-elect, should have met the emperor's wife, on a stated
day, in the presence of persons called in to seal the deeds, and that
she should have heard the words of the augurs, entered the house of the
husband, sacrificed to the gods, sat down with the guests at the nuptial
banquet, and in every way comported herself as though she had been
given away in a marriage entirely lawful. But I would not dress up my
narrative with fictions to give it an air of marvel, rather than relate
what has been stated to me or written by my seniors."
There are indications which seem to warrant the belief that if this
affair had succeeded in its object it would not have appeared so
thoroughly atrocious in the eyes of those who recorded it. The whole
matter is shrouded in that mystery which often characterizes the
transactions of rulers. Suetonius declares that it is beyond all belief
that Claudius himself, at the marriage of Messalina with Silius, should
have actually signed the writings relative to her dowry, induced thereto
by the design of diverting from himself and transferring to another the
effect of certain bad omens relative to the husband of Messalina. But,
considering the superstition of the time, of which Claudius had an
abundant share, and the cunning with which Messalina appears to have
been endowed, it seems entirely probable that here we have the key of
the whole situation. As is suggested by Victor Duruy, Claudius, timid
and credulous as he was, doubtless assured himself in accordance with
the formalistic notions of those times, or was persuaded by others, that
destiny would be satisfied with a marriage accomplished in conformity
with legal formulas, but a union only in name. He expected that thereby
he would save himself, and at the same time his honor might be avenged
by the death of Silius, thus fulfilling the oracle.
But Messalina and her lover had other plans. By working on the old
emperor's fears, she had induced him to sign the writing, so that
afterward it might appear as though he had given his consent to his own
repudiation. Presuming on her Julian descent, she may have persuaded
herself that, once wedded to the young patrician and consul-elect,
together they might wrest the government from the feeble hand of
Claudius and share the imperial dignity.
While the emperor was away at Ostia, the nuptials were consummated. The
marriage was solemnized in due and ample form, including all the ancient
rites. Silius may have pretended to drag the seemingly unwilling bride
from the embraces of her friends; but the yellow wedding veil was not
necessary to hide any blushes that were likely to flush the cheek of
Messalina. That the ceremonies were executed in due form may be
concluded from the fact that Mnester, the popular actor, took part in
them, probably as director.
If Messalina counted on the fidelity of the freedmen, to whose
friendship she had many times confided her safety, she erred: for on
this occasion they fatally betrayed her. When Claudius was not being
guided by his wife for her own purposes, he was under the control of the
freedmen; what their position under Silius might be was problematical.
Narcissus, the most active of these courtiers, hurried at once to Ostia,
taking with him Calpurnia and Cleopatra, two women who had witnessed the
marriage. It was necessary that he should thoroughly arouse the
phlegmatic emperor and bring upon Messalina speedy destruction, or his
own doom would be accomplished. "The marriage has been made public," he
said. "Unless you act promptly, Silius will be master of Rome." He
induced Claudius to transfer the command of the prætorians to himself
for a day. He hurried the emperor back to the city, taking every
precaution that the latter should not be left alone with Messalina's
friends and that she herself should not be afforded the opportunity of a
personal interview.
This unwonted suddenness of action on the part of the emperor was
precisely what Messalina and Silius did not anticipate. Instead of
intrenching themselves by energetic preparations, they wasted the time
in voluptuous revelry. It was the season of the grape harvest, and all
Rome was engaged in the customary celebration of the vintage. Messalina,
in the gardens of the palace, was enacting a Bacchanalian scene. Men
were treading the grapes and wine was flowing into casks; women in the
scant attire of Bacchantes were dancing around them; and Messalina, with
the symbolic thyrsus in her hand, joined in the revelry, accompanied by
Silius, who was crowned with ivy. The utmost licentiousness of speech
and action was the order of the day. At last, Vettius Valens, who
himself had been a lover of the empress, climbed to the top of a high
tree. "What can you see from up there?" someone shouted. "I see," he
replied, "a storm coming from Ostia." It was prophetic of what was soon
to fall upon the chief participators in the scene. Rumors, quickly
followed by the couriers of the emperor, announced that the latter was
approaching in great indignation. Messalina was immediately deserted by
all. The revellers went their own ways, and Silius repaired to the Forum
as though with no thought but to attend to his official duties. The
empress, thoroughly awakened at last to the gravity of her situation,
began to make preparations for her defence. She saw that her only hope
was in the easy, vacillating disposition of Claudius; she had never yet
failed to manage him, and her assurance was great. Sending forth her two
children, Octavia and Britannicus, to meet their father, she next
induced Vibidia, the chief of the Vestals, to obtain audience with the
emperor and implore his pardon for his guilty wife.
Deserted by all the court with the exception of three persons, Messalina
traversed the city on foot; and finding on the outskirts one of the
carts used to convey the rubbish of the streets and gardens, she got
into it and started forth to meet her outraged husband. Coming within
hearing of the emperor, she began to call upon him to listen to the
mother of his children; but Narcissus drowned her voice with the story
of her crime and placed in the hands of Claudius a paper reciting all
Messalina's adulteries, so that, reading it, his eyes might not be
turned upon his wife. Vibidia pleaded with the emperor that he should
not allow the empress to be destroyed without a hearing; but she was
sent away by the freedman, who advised her to attend to the proper
duties of her vocation.
Had it not been for the hasty manner in which this affair was brought to
a fatal termination by Narcissus, Messalina would probably have won a
pardon from her doting husband. It is true that when the emperor was
taken to the house of Silius and there shown valuable furniture,
heirlooms from his own palace, his indignation was great; he allowed
himself to be conducted to the camp, where he made a short speech to the
soldiers and constituted them judges of the criminals; but after having
partaken of a sumptuous repast, his good nature, or rather his
indifference, returned, and he ordered his servants to go and "acquaint
the miserable woman that to-morrow she may plead her cause." The
freedman knew that if Messalina obtained the opportunity to talk with
the emperor, her alluring methods would save her life, and Claudius
would turn to make common cause with her against her accusers. Narcissus
therefore hurried forth and commanded the tribune on duty to "despatch
the execution," for such, he said, was the emperor's command.
The soldiers found Messalina in the gardens of Lucullus, lying upon the
ground, and by her side her mother, Lepida, who was seeking to persuade
her wretched daughter not to wait for the executioner, but to die
becomingly by her own hand. This, however, the woman had not the
courage to do. At times, she would recite to her mother the speeches
with which she hoped to justify herself to her husband, and then she
would give way to imprecations and vain lamentations. Thus she was
employed when the door was burst open and the soldiers and Narcissus
appeared before her. The freedman indulged his spite and taunted her
with insolent reproaches. Then the unhappy woman, accepting the dagger
from her mother's hand, held it to her breast, but dared not strike; so
the tribune, in mercy as well as in justice, despatched her with his
sword. The news was carried to Claudius that "Messalina was no more";
and without asking how she died or by whose hand, he called for a cup of
wine and continued the feast.
Silius made no attempt to exonerate or defend himself, but simply asked
for a speedy death. With him died a number of other illustrious knights,
their offence being like his, though not so public or so heinous.
Mnester the actor thought to save his life by reminding the emperor that
it was by the latter's own command that he had been obliged to submit to
the orders of Messalina; but though this plea caused some hesitation in
the mind of Claudius, it was overruled by the merciless freedmen. It was
thus also with Traulus Montanus, a young man of remarkable beauty; he
could urge that only on one occasion had he been summoned to the
apartments of the empress, and then immediately cast off; this plea,
however, did not avail to save him.
It has been our purpose in this chapter to show how, in the midst of
artistic surroundings, in a polished society, at a time when poetical
and philosophical literature was universally cultivated, women, by the
enormity of their excesses, touched the lowest depth of moral
depravity. All that appeared necessary was to piece together the
fragmentary information provided by the ancient historians and so
present a picture of this single astounding character, Messalina. She
was the ultimity of feminine vice. She did not stand alone; but in her
there was a unique combination of extraordinary political power,
unbounded opportunity for lawlessness, and inordinate concupiscence.
But one human life is not sufficient in which to display all the
possible varieties of moral unrestraint. Messalina died, and Agrippina
reigned in her stead. In the daughter of Germanicus was exemplified a
character very different from that of the woman we have just dismissed.
Agrippina was less wanton, but she was not more womanly. Messalina
sacrificed human life in caprice, Agrippina assigned men to death in
cold calculation. The aim of the one was pleasure, the object of the
other was power. Messalina was a most unworthy mother; Agrippina
contravened every other womanly instinct in order that her son might
reign.
After Messalina's death, Claudius declared before the praetorians: "As I
have been unhappy in my marriages, I am resolved henceforth to remain
single; and if I should not, I give you leave to stab me." But he was
not able to persist in this resolution; there were many women who, for
the sake of bearing the name of empress, sought matrimonial union with
him. Agrippina, however, had marked that position for her own, and she
was intellectually the strongest, as well as one of the most beautiful
women in Rome. She was now thirty-four years of age. It was no new
undertaking for her to bestir herself in the search for a husband. At
the age of thirteen she had been married to Cnæus Domitius Ahenobarbus;
but he had died in A.D. 40, leaving her with Nero, their only child. On
her retum from exile at the beginning of Claudius's reign, she had
endeavored to form a union with a powerful patrician named Galba, who
had a wife then living; but for her pains she got her face slapped by
Galba's mother-in-law. She was soon married, however, to an orator
called Passienus, who was a man remarkable for his wit, wealth, and good
nature. He died before Agrippina had set her hopes upon a marriage with
Claudius.
It was Agrippina's determination to be empress, in order that her son
might be emperor. Some years previous, an astrologer had said of the boy
that he would reign, but that he would be the death of his mother. "Let
me die, then," said she, "so he but reign."
Her marriage with Claudius would be illegal and incestuous, he being her
uncle. But Agrippina aroused the emperor's desire for the match by the
endearments for which her relationship provided the opportunity, and the
complacent Senate passed an enactment that henceforth such marriages
should be lawful. Before the nuptials were celebrated, Agrippina
obtained the promise of the hand of Octavia, the daughter of Claudius by
Messalina, for her son, thus doubly securing her position; this was done
despite the fact that Octavia had already been betrothed to another man.
Being thus able to have her way before marriage, it is not wonderful
that after that event Claudius should be wholly under his wife's rule.
Tacitus says: "From this moment the city assumed a different character,
and a woman had the control of everything. She, however, did not, like
Messalina, mock and trample upon the interests of the State in the
extravagance of her lewdness. The despotism exercised was as thorough as
though it were under the direction of a man. In her public conduct she
was grave and rigid, frequently haughty and overbearing. No departure
was observable in her domestic deportment, unless it were necessary to
support her power; but an insatiable thirst for money was veiled under
the pretext of its being used to maintain the imperial authority."
As an instance of Agrippina's cruelty, it may be mentioned that she
brought about the condemnation of Lollia, who had been her rival for the
hand of Claudius, and compelled the unfortunate woman to destroy
herself. Calpurnia, another illustrious lady, she also doomed to ruin,
for no other reason than that the emperor once made a casual remark upon
her beauty.
The advancement of her son was the object ever before the eyes of
Agrippina; for this she lived and for the attainment of this
consummation she spared no promising effort, whether lawful or
otherwise. Through the influence of Pallas, one of the favorite
freedmen, she brought it to pass that her son was adopted by the emperor
as his own, and the historians aver that as a reward for this service
Pallas received favors which belonged solely to Claudius. Step by step,
Nero was preferred, and at the same time the son of Messalina and the
emperor was depreciated. Britannicus seems to have been a boy of spirit.
Because he persisted in addressing her son by the name Ahenobarbus
[Brazenbeard], Agrippina placed over him tutors whose duty it was to
teach him to respect the decree of the Senate, by which the more
honorable name of Nero had been conferred on her offspring. Still,
everything did not go forward quite to Agrippina's satisfaction. She
found in Narcissus almost as great an enemy as had Messalina, and even
the emperor was somewhat uncertain in his favor; on one occasion, he was
heard to mutter something to the effect that he seemed fated to suffer
the iniquities of his wives, and then to punish them. Nero was now
seventeen years of age, and through the shrewd policy of his mother had
not only been named by the emperor as his successor, but had been
generally recognized as the heir-apparent by the people; it needed only
the death of Claudius to raise him to the imperial throne.
New wants create new professions. In despotic governments, the lives of
certain persons are often too prolonged in the opinion of others who
have their own purposes to pursue, and there never have been lacking
those who in such a juncture could make themselves extremely useful. In
the time of Agrippina there lived a woman named Locusta, who, as Tacitus
informs us, was a famous artist in the mixing of drugs. Her skill seems
always to have had for its object, not the cure of patients who were
confided to her care, but their judicious taking-off. The
above-mentioned historian informs us that Agrippina allowed this woman
to employ her art upon Claudius; and as no other writer approximate to
that age seeks to purge the empress of this accusation, it must be
reckoned to her account. "In fact," says Tacitus, "all the particulars
of this transaction were soon afterward so thoroughly known, that the
writers of those times are able to recount how the poison was poured
into a dish of mushrooms, of which he was particularly fond; but whether
it was that his senses were stupefied, or from the wine he had drunk,
the effect of the poison was not immediately perceived." Agrippina
therefore became dismayed; but as her life was at stake, she thought
little of the odium of her present proceedings, and called in the aid of
Xenophon the physician, whom she had already implicated in her guilty
project. It is believed that he, as if he purposed to assist Claudius in
his efforts to vomit, put down his throat a feather besmeared with
deadly poison.
After the death of Claudius, Agrippina discovered that the day was
ill-omened, so that she hesitated to have her son proclaimed. The fact
of the emperor's death was therefore kept a secret for some hours. The
people were so far imposed upon that they believed that Claudius was
approving and desired to be entertained. Buffoons were Produced, who
played their antics and cracked their jokes in the presence of the
corpse; the empress, in the meantime, feigning to be overcome with
grief, was clasping the young Britannicus in her arms and declaring that
he was the very image of his father.
At noon, it being the thirteenth of October in the year 4, the death of
Claudius was announced, and Nero was received by the soldiers with
shouts of joy. The Senate confirmed his accession, and that night, when
the tribune asked the new emperor for the watchword, he gave "the best
of mothers."
Claudius, unless the Roman historians are to be considered entirely
unworthy of credence, had been murdered by his wife; but,
notwithstanding this fact and also that she had despised him while he
lived, she hastened to propose his apotheosis as soon as he was dead.
How much those divine honors which were decreed to deceased members of
the imperial family meant to the Romans may be gathered from the
fragments which have been preserved of a satire written by Seneca at
this time; the satire also indicates the contempt into which the ancient
religion had fallen. Seneca claims that from him who saw Drusilla, the
sister of Caligula, ascend into heaven, he derived his information as to
what happened in Olympus when "a respectable-looking old man, with
shaking head, lame foot, and some kind of threat upon his lips"
[Claudius] arrived thither. The Olympian Senate, notwithstanding the
labors of Hercules on his behalf, voted that Claudius was not to be
admitted.
After the inauguration of Nero's reign, there followed for the Empire
five years of what seemed to the people, so accustomed were they to the
worst horrors in the name of government, a wise and upright
administration. Nero was to a certain extent under the influence of
Seneca and Burrhus, men who perhaps were as good as any of their time.
Credit must be given Agrippina for having at least selected the best men
she could find to take charge of the education of her son. Nevertheless,
during those five years occurred her own murder and that of Britannicus.
After the death of the latter, Locusta--for whom Nero had found ample
employment--was permitted to retire to the enjoyment of the immense
wealth with which she had been rewarded for her services to those in
power; it was stipulated, however, that she should train other women in
the practice of her art.
Agrippina had done and suffered much to secure the Empire for her son;
but she never contemplated that he would reign alone while she lived.
She expected to occupy a throne by his side. Her officious dominance
soon became intolerable to the young emperor. He also fell under the
fascination of the beautiful but unprincipled Poppæa, who refused to
share his palace with so jealous and imperious a mother-in-law. Bitter
must have been the reflections of Agrippina when she found herself not
only disappointed of this part of her ambition, but also saw that her
son was impatiently awaiting her death. Indeed, he was devising means to
bring it to pass; but she who was herself so well practised in the
methods of assassination was not an easy victim. The sword was too open
a method, and she was believed to have prepared herself, by taking
antidotes, against all kinds of poisons. But there was a genius at the
court. Anicetus, an enfranchised slave, now commander of the fleet,
could construct a vessel that would fall to pieces at sea at any given
moment. Agrippina was invited to join her son at Baise. He was all
affection and again seemed willing to commit himself to her influence.
A magnificent vessel was provided to convey her to and from the villa
where he had provided an entertainment. As she was returning over the
smooth waters, lighted by the brilliant stars, the roof of the cabin,
which had been weighted with lead, suddenly fell in, killing a man who
belonged to her train. Agrippina and Aceronia, her woman attendant,
escaped from this part of the prearranged accident; but the boat then
upsetting, they were thrown into the sea. Aceronia, in order that she
might be rescued, cried out that she was the emperor's mother, and she
was immediately killed by oars and boathooks in the hands of the crew.
Her mistress, however, suspecting at once the real nature of what had
taken place, remained quiet, and swam until she was picked up by passing
boats and conveyed to her own villa.
At the prospect of his mother's death, Nero exclaimed: "At last I shall
reign"; but when the news reached him that the cunningly contrived
shipwreck had proved a failure, his fury knew no bounds. At that
juncture, a messenger arrived from Agrippina to say that his mistress
had been preserved--she deemed it prudent to appear to take it for
granted that her son was not implicated in the attempt upon her life.
While the messenger was speaking, Anicetus picked up a dagger from the
floor and pretended that the man had dropped it; it was then declared
that Agrippina must have sent him to assassinate her son. A party of men
were at once sent to her villa. They broke into her bedchamber. "If you
are come for murderous purposes," she cried, "I will not believe that it
is by the order of my son." She was quickly despatched with many wounds.
In the busts and medal portraits of Agrippina that have been preserved
we see a face remarkably suggestive of refinement of character. Looking
at that face and remembering the accusations which have been laid
against her, one is naturally inclined to take up a brief in her
defence. It does not seem possible that she could have been guilty of
these crimes; nor, indeed, in other times and circumstances would it
have been possible. It was not a depraved will like that of Messalina
that led Agrippina to the adoption of evil courses. The causes were
several. She was proud; she had an insatiate craving for power; above
all, her unyielding will was wholly bent on the project of placing her
son upon the imperial throne. Had she lived at a time when violent
measures were not permissible, her methods would probably have been more
humane; but her ambition would doubtless have been as great and her
determination as tenacious. In her age, murder was a common expedient
for clearing the way to a prize. In her time, female modesty was a
quality almost impossible to be retained, and but little valued in those
few by whom it was preserved. To acquit Agrippina of murder and
unchastity would be not only to fault history but to impute to the
empress an innocence which in the nature of the case it was impossible
she should possess.
X