1… for Messalina* thought that Valerius Asiaticus, who had twice been consul, was a former lover of Poppaea’s, and at the same time she hankered after his gardens (these had been laid out by Lucullus, and Asiaticus was improving them in a singularly lavish manner). She therefore had Suillius* bring an accusation against the pair of them. Suillius was given an associate—Sosibius, the tutor of Britannicus.* Sosibius’ role was to warn Claudius, apparently as a favour, to be wary of a power and wealth that was hostile to the imperial family. He would say that Asiaticus had been primarily responsible for Gaius Caesar’s* assassination, that he had not been afraid to admit it in an assembly of the people—and was, in fact, seeking credit for the deed. He had gained notoriety in the city from it, his fame had spread through the provinces, and he was preparing a journey to the German armies—for, born in Vienne, he enjoyed the support of many powerful connections and had the means to incite the tribes of his country to insurrection.
Claudius enquired no further into the matter. He sent off the prefect of the praetorian guard, Crispinus,* and a body of troops, at maximum speed, as though to put down a rebellion. Asiaticus was found at Baiae by Crispinus; he was then put in irons and rushed to Rome.
2. Refused an audience with the Senate, Asiaticus was heard in private chambers, in Messalina’s presence. Suillius accused him of corrupting the troops—Asiaticus had, through bribery and sexual misconduct with them, put them under obligation to commit all manner of crimes—then of adultery with Poppaea,* and finally of passive homosexuality. At that the defendant broke his silence and blurted out: ‘Ask your own sons,* Suillius. They will tell you I’m a man!’
Proceeding then with his defence, his effect on Claudius was more marked, but he also drew tears from Messalina. As she slipped from the room to wipe them dry, she warned Vitellius not to let the accused man slip through his fingers. Messalina herself now rushed on with Poppaea’s destruction, bribing people to drive her to suicide with the terrifying prospect of the dungeon. Claudius was unaware of this, so much so that when Poppaea’s husband Scipio* dined with him a few days later, the emperor enquired why he had come to the table without his wife, and Scipio replied that she had passed away.
3. Now when Claudius sought his opinion on acquitting Asiaticus, Vitellius wept as he recalled their long-standing friendship, and the respect they had both had for the emperor’s mother, Antonia. Then after reviewing Asiaticus’ services to the state, including his recent military campaign against Britain,* and other things that seemed designed to arouse sympathy, Vitellius recommended that Claudius grant the man free choice over his means of death. And Claudius’ announcement following this showed the same compassion.
When some urged him to accept starvation as a gentle exit from life, Asiaticus replied that he declined their kind advice, and he went ahead with his customary physical exercises, took a bath, and enjoyed a cheerful dinner. Then, remarking that his death would have been more honourable had it come from Tiberius’ cunning or Gaius Caesar’s fury rather than a woman’s treachery and Vitellius’ filthy mouth, he opened his veins. First, however, he visited his pyre, and ordered that it be moved to another location so that the shade from the trees not be diminished by the heat of the fire. Such was his nonchalance to the end!
4. The senators were convened after this, and Suillius proceeded to add to his list of victims some Roman knights surnamed Petra. The cause of their death was really that they had provided their house as a meeting place for Mnester and Poppaea. But the charge against one of them centred on a dream he had had at night. In this, it was alleged, the defendant had seen Claudius wearing a garland of wheat with the ears of wheat upside down, and then, on the basis of that image, he had predicted difficulties with the grain supply. (Some have recorded that the dream involved a vine-garland with whitening leaves, which was then interpreted as indicating the emperor’s death at the end of autumn. What is not disputed is that it was as a consequence of some sort of dream that destruction was brought on the man and his brother.)
A decree was passed authorizing one and a half million sesterces and praetorian insignia for Crispinus. Vitellius proposed a further award of a million for Sosibius for help he was giving to Britannicus by his instruction and to Claudius by his advice. When Scipio was also asked his opinion he replied: ‘Since I feel the same as everybody else about Poppaea’s offences, just assume I say the same thing as everybody else’—an elegant compromise between conjugal love and his senatorial obligation.
5. After that Suillius’ prosecutions were incessant and relentless, and many rivalled him in audacity; for the emperor’s appropriating to himself all the functions of the laws* and magistrates had opened up fine opportunities for plunder. And there was nothing in the public marketplace so saleable as the perfidy of advocates. In fact, a distinguished Roman knight, Samius, gave Suillius four hundred thousand sesterces and, on discovering his collusion with the other party, fell on his sword in Suillius’ house. Thus, on the initiative of the consul-designate Gaius Silius,* whose power and fall I shall relate at the appropriate point, the senators rose up together to demand the application of the Cincian law* which, enacted long before, forbade the acceptance of money or a gift for pleading a case.
6. There was a noisy protest from the people for whom this insult was intended. Then Silius launched a virulent attack on Suillius, with whom he had differences, citing examples of the orators of old who had considered the rewards of eloquence to be limited to their reputation and their standing with posterity. What would otherwise be the finest and greatest of the liberal arts was being degraded by vulgar transactions, he said, and even integrity could not remain intact when eyes were fixed only on the size of the profits. If lawsuits were conducted for no pay, they would be fewer. As it was, quarrels and accusations, hatred and injustices were being encouraged so that the corruption of the Forum could bring money to advocates, just as violent diseases brought fees to doctors. They should remember Gaius Asinius, Marcus Messala, and, more recently, Arruntius and Aeserninus. These had risen to the top of their profession without tarnishing their lives or their eloquence. When the consul-designate made such comments, others agreed, and a motion was prepared that would make offenders liable under the extortion law. Then Suillius, Cossutianus* and the rest of them could see that what was being arranged for them was not a trial—for they were clearly guilty—but punishment, and they stood around Claudius begging pardon for their past actions.
7. After Claudius nodded his assent, they proceeded to make their case. Who had such arrogance, they asked, as to suppose he could hope for eternal fame? Their service was providing practical assistance for people and their affairs, they said, so that none would be at the mercy of the powerful through a shortage of advocates. And yet eloquence did not come without a cost: in order for a man to focus on the affairs of another, his own family concerns were neglected. Many made a living by military service, a number by agriculture; nobody sought an occupation unless there were some prospect of income. It was easy for Asinius and Messala, or the likes of Aeserninus and Arruntius, to assume their magnanimous attitude— the former loaded with the prizes of the wars between Antonius and Augustus, the latter heirs of wealthy families! But, they continued, they had their own examples to hand: the large fees that Publius Clodius or Gaius Curio* habitually received for their speeches. They themselves were senators of modest means seeking only peacetime remuneration at a time of tranquillity in the state. Claudius should consider the plebeians who had brilliant careers in oratory. Remove the fees earned from liberal studies and the studies, too, would perish.
The emperor thought these arguments, while less dignified, were not completely unfounded, and he limited fees that could be taken at ten thousand sesterces, with any exceeding that liable to prosecution for extortion.
8. I noted above* how Mithridates became king of Armenia, and was later imprisoned on the orders of Gaius Caesar. Now at about this time, on Claudius’ advice, and relying on the support of Pharasmanes, the king returned to his kingdom. (Pharasmanes, king of the Iberi, was also Mithridates’ brother, and he kept reporting to him that there was discord amongst the Parthians, and that with the supreme power in dispute less important matters were receiving no attention.)
In fact, Gotarzes had taken a number of ruthless measures, including the hasty murder of his brother Artabanus, together with Artabanus’ wife and son. Fear then spread to everybody else, and they called in Vardanes. Vardanes, ever ready for a great enterprise, marched into the country, covering three thousand stades* in two days. Taking Gotarzes by surprise, he drove him out in terror, and showed no hesitation in seizing the closest prefectures, the Seleucians alone repudiating his authority. As these had also defected from his father, he was motivated by anger rather than by the needs of the moment, and became mired in the siege of a powerful city that was further strengthened by a river that served as a protective barrier, and by a wall and lines of supply. In the meantime Gotarzes, bolstered by assistance from the Dahae and the Hyrcanians, renewed the war, and Vardanes, forced to abandon Seleucia, moved his camp to the Bactrian plains.
9. Then, with the forces of the East divided and unsure where to direct their support, Mithridates was given a chance to occupy Armenia: he had the powerful Roman infantry to destroy the highland strongholds and at the same time the Iberian troops scoured the plains. There was no resistance from the Armenians after the rout of their prefect, Demonax, who had risked an engagement. A slight delay was caused by Cotys, king of Armenia Minor, to whom a number of the chieftains had rallied, but he was then brought into line by a dispatch from Claudius. Everything now went in favour of Mithridates who, however, was harsher than was appropriate for a new regime.
As they were preparing for battle, however, the Parthian commanders suddenly concluded a treaty: they had learned of a conspiracy amongst their compatriots, which Gotarzes revealed to his brother. They came together, initially with some hesitation; then they clasped hands and swore before the altars of the gods to take revenge for the treachery of their enemies, and to make reciprocal concessions. Vardanes seemed the better choice for maintaining the kingdom; Gotarzes, so no trace of rivalry would remain, withdrew deep into Hyrcania. And when Vardanes returned, Seleucia surrendered to him six years* after its defection, bringing disgrace on the Parthians, whom a single city had flouted for so long.
10. Vardanes then visited the strongest prefectures. He longed to recover Armenia, but was stopped by Vibius Marsus, legate of Syria, who threatened him with war. Meanwhile, Gotarzes regretted having conceded the throne, and when the nobles (who find servitude harder to bear in peacetime) called him home, he mobilized an army. He was met by Vardanes’ forces at the River Erindes, and there was a hard-fought battle during the crossing, from which Vardanes emerged the clear victor. Then, in a number of successful engagements up to the River Sindes, which forms the frontier between the Dahae and the Hyrcanians, Vardanes brought to heel the tribes between the two rivers. At that point a limit was placed on his success, for the Parthians, victors though they were, refused to serve far from home. He therefore erected monuments as a testament to his power, and to the fact that tribute from those races had been won by none of the Arsacids* before him, and he went home with great glory—and was all the more arrogant and insufferable to his subjects because of it. These, indeed, after plotting together, caught him unawares while engrossed in a hunt and assassinated him. He was still in early manhood, but had a renown enjoyed by few long-lived monarchs—or would have, had he but sought affection amongst his own people as keenly as he sought to inspire fear in his enemies.
The Parthian situation was destabilized by the assassination of Vardanes, and there was uncertainty over an acceptable candidate for the throne. Many favoured Gotarzes, but some were for Meherdates, a descendant of Phraates, who had been given to us as a hostage. Gotarzes then emerged the winner. But after he gained the throne his ruthlessness and profligacy obliged the Parthians to send a secret entreaty to the Roman emperor begging for Meherdates to be allowed to assume his forefathers’ throne.
11. It was during this same consulship* that the Secular Games* were put on, in the eight-hundredth year after Rome’s founding, and the sixty-fourth after their staging by Augustus. The chronological calculations of the two emperors I pass over, since they were sufficiently covered in the books I devoted to the history of the emperor Domitian.* For Domitian also staged Secular Games, and I attended those with special interest since I had been accorded a quindecimviral priesthood and was then a praetor. I mention this not to boast, but because, from antiquity, that was the responsibility of the quindecimviral college, and the magistrates were the people especially charged with overseeing the ceremonial duties.
When Claudius was seated at the games in the Circus, boys from noble families put on the Game of Troy* on horseback. Amongst them was Britannicus, son of the emperor, and Lucius Domitius,* who would soon be taken by adoption into the ruling family, with the cognomen Nero. The support of the crowd, which was more enthusiastic for Domitius, was taken as an omen. It was also put about that snakes had looked after the boy like guardians during his infancy, a tall tale made up to match the wondrous stories of foreign nations. In fact, Nero, no man to downplay himself, used to recount that no more than one serpent was seen in his bedroom.
12. In reality, the support of the people arose from the memory of Germanicus,* whose sole male descendant Nero was. And sympathy for his mother Agrippina was heightened by the savagery of Messalina. She had always hated Agrippina, but was at that time particularly exasperated, being deterred from fabricating charges against her, and finding people to lay them, only by her new infatuation, which bordered on insanity. For she had developed a passion for Gaius Silius, the best-looking of Rome’s young men, and so much so that she chased Junia Silana,* a woman of noble descent, from her marriage and then assumed possession of her now-unattached lover. Silius was not oblivious to the disgrace and risks involved; but refusal meant certain death, there was some chance of escaping notice, and at the same time the rewards were great. He therefore consoled himself with simply letting the future take its course and enjoying the present. As for Messalina, she made regular visits to the man’s house, and not secretly, either, but with a large retinue; she hung on his arm when he came out of doors; and she lavished riches and honours on him. Eventually, it seemed as if there had been an exchange of fortunes, with the slaves, freedmen, and trappings of the emperor on view at the lover’s house.
13. Claudius, oblivious to his matrimonial situation, was busy with his duties as censor. He passed strict edicts that chastised public misbehaviour in the theatre, because people had hurled abuse at the ex-consul Publius Pomponius (who presented verses on stage) and at some distinguished ladies. He produced legislation to curb the severity of creditors, forbidding them to lend young men* money at interest repayable on their fathers’ deaths. He had spring water* diverted from the Simbruine hills and brought into the city. Furthermore, he added, and put into everyday use, new alphabetic letters,* after discovering that the Greek alphabet was also not begun and completed all at one time.
14. It was the Egyptians who first gave written form to ideas, using representations of animals. These are the most ancient documents in the history of mankind, and are still to be seen engraved on stones. And the Egyptians lay claim to being the inventors of letters, saying that it was from Egypt that the Phoenicians—because of their dominance at sea—brought them to Greece, winning the renown of having discovered what in fact they had taken from them. For the story goes that Cadmus* initiated the still-barbarous Greek peoples in this art, after arriving with a Phoenician fleet. Some have it that the Athenian Cecrops, or the Theban Linus (or even the Argive Palamedes, at the time of the Trojans) invented sixteen letter forms, and that others—Simonides, in particular—later invented the others. In Italy, however, the Etruscans learned them from Demaratus the Corinthian, and the Aborigines from the Arcadian Evander; and the shape of the Latin letters is that of the most ancient Greek letters. But in our case, too, the letters were originally few in number, with additions made later. With this as his precedent, Claudius added three letters.* They were employed during his reign, but later fell out of use, though they are to be seen even today on bronze plaques set up for public display in the forums and temples.
15. Claudius next brought before the Senate the matter of establishing a college of soothsayers,* to prevent Italy’s oldest art from falling into disuse through lack of practice. It had often happened, he said, that soothsayers had been called in when the state was in trouble, and through their advice ceremonies had been revived and more strictly observed for the future. Furthermore, the leading men of Etruria had, of their own accord or at the prompting of the Roman Senate, kept this branch of knowledge alive, and passed it down in certain families. Now less attention was being paid to it through the apathy of the people towards the noble arts, and because of the growth of superstitions from abroad. And while all was going well for the moment, they should show gratitude for the kindness of the gods, and see to it that sacred rites practised in times of crisis did not disappear when times are good. A decree of the Senate was therefore passed authorizing the pontiffs to examine which of the soothsayers’ institutions should be retained and strengthened.
16. This same year the tribe of the Cherusci asked for a king appointed by Rome. Their nobility had been wiped out in civil wars, and there remained only one person of royal descent, a man called Italicus,* who was detained in the city. On his father’s side, Italicus was the son of Arminius’ brother Flavus,* and his mother was the daughter of Actumerus, chieftain of the Chatti. He was a good-looking man who had been trained in weaponry and horsemanship after both his and our ancestral manner. Claudius accordingly provided him with funds, gave him bodyguards in addition, and urged him to assume with confidence that position of honour amongst his own people. He was, said Claudius, the first man born in Rome—and one not a hostage but a citizen—who was leaving to take up a foreign throne.
The initial German reaction to Italicus’ arrival was one of joy, and he was fêted with praise and honour because, untainted by their quarrels, he was equally affable in his dealings with everybody. Sometimes his behaviour was marked by courtesy and restraint— qualities disliked by no one—more often with drunkenness and lechery, qualities that appeal to barbarians. As his fame now began to grow amongst those close by, and then further afield, the men who had flourished during the periods of factional strife became suspicious of his power. They went off to the neighbouring peoples proclaiming that the old independence of Germany was being taken from them and Roman power was on the increase. Was there really no one born in those same lands of theirs capable of filling that supreme office, they asked, without the offspring of Flavus the scout having to be elevated above everyone? There was no point in appealing to Arminius’ name. Even if it had been his son coming to the throne after growing up on enemy soil, there could still have been grounds for fear since the boy would have been tainted with foreignness in everything—in his upbringing, his servility, and his dress. But suppose Italicus had the mentality of his parent—no one else had made war more aggressively on his own country and the gods of his home than his father had.
17. With these and other such arguments they amassed mighty forces, and Italicus could count no fewer on his side. For, he would remind them, he had not forced himself on them against their will, but had been invited because he surpassed all others in noble birth— and they should put his courage to the test to see if he was worthy of his uncle Arminius and his grandfather Actumerus. And he felt no embarrassment for his father, either, for his unflagging loyalty to the Romans, which he had initially maintained with the approval of the Germans. And the word ‘liberty’ was being put forward as a specious pretext by men who, coming personally from low families, and being ruinous to the public cause, had no prospects except through civil discord.
Italicus received enthusiastic applause from the crowd, and in a great battle between the barbarian tribes he emerged the victor, but then because of his success he slipped into arrogance. He was driven out, and subsequently restored through the support of the Langobardi; and whether things went well or badly for him, he continued to oppress the Cheruscan nation.
18. In this same period, having no dissension at home and in high spirits after the death of Sanquinius,* the Chauci made raids into Lower Germany while Corbulo* was still on his way. They were led by Gannascus, a Canninefate by race who had long served as an auxiliary, and had subsequently deserted. Now a privateer with some light vessels, he concentrated his depredations on the coastline of the Gauls, whom he knew to be rich, and poor fighters.
Corbulo entered the province with considerable caution, and soon began to acquire his renown (which actually began with that campaign). He brought his triremes* up the channel of the Rhine, and the rest of his ships by way of estuaries and canals, according to their capabilities. He sank the enemy boats and drove out Gannascus. After settling the present situation to his satisfaction, he restored to the legions—which had become slack vis-à-vis their duties and hard work, but loved to plunder—the old form of discipline that forbade anyone to leave the marching column or enter battle without orders. Outpost and sentry duty, and fatigues performed by day or night, were all conducted under arms, and they say that one soldier was punished with death for digging an earthwork unarmed, and another for doing so armed only with a dagger. These instances are extreme and may be false rumours, but they do derive from the commander’s severity; and one can be sure that he was strict and inflexible in dealing with the serious misdemeanours when he was believed to be so hard on the trivial.
19. In fact, the terror Corbulo inspired impacted differently on our soldiers and the enemy: it meant increased courage for us, but a crushing of the barbarians’ spirit. The Frisian tribe* had been openly hostile or undependable since the rebellion that began with the defeat of Lucius Apronius, but they now gave hostages and settled in the territory assigned to them by Corbulo, who also imposed on them a senate, magistrates, and a legal system. So they would not flout his instructions, he established among them a fortress with a garrison, and sent men to talk the Greater Chauci into surrender and also to set a trap to waylay Gannascus. And the ambush was neither unsuccessful nor dishonourable, targeting as it did a deserter who had broken his word. But there was a strong reaction from the Chauci to his killing, and it was now Corbulo who was sowing the seeds of rebellion, news that was viewed favourably by some, but negatively by certain others. Why, they asked, provoke the enemy? A loss would damage the state; and if he were successful, a man thus distinguished would be a threat to the peace and an embarrassment to a cowardly emperor. Claudius accordingly forbade any new show of force against the German provinces, to the point of ordering the garrisons to be brought back west of the Rhine.*
20. The message was brought to Corbulo by letter as he was establishing his camp on enemy soil. The sudden blow prompted a flood of simultaneous considerations—fear of the emperor, the contempt that would come from the barbarians, the derision of the allies. But he said nothing more than ‘Happy the Roman commanders of yesteryear!’ and gave the signal to withdraw. However, to ensure the men had no time on their hands, he dug a canal, twenty-three miles in length, between the Mosa and the Rhine so the hazards of the ocean could be avoided. Claudius nevertheless bestowed triumphal insignia on Corbulo, although he had denied him the military operation.
Not long after this Curtius Rufus* was accorded the same honour. He had opened up a mine in the area of Mattium to search for veins of silver, but the proceeds were slim and not of long duration. For the legions it meant hard work, and financial loss,* too, as they dug out water channels and toiled underground on projects that would have been difficult in the open air. The soldiers were ground down by this, and because similar hardships were being experienced in a number of provinces, they wrote a secret letter in the name of all the armed forces, imploring the emperor to award triumphal honours in advance to officers to whom he intended to assign armies.
21. On the pedigree of Curtius Rufus, whom some have recorded to be a gladiator’s son, I would not produce lies, and yet I am reluctant to go into the truth in detail. When he grew up, he became an attendant to a quaestor who had been allotted Africa as his province. In the town of Hadrumetum he was once spending some solitary moments in a portico, which was deserted in the middle of the day, when a vision* of a woman of superhuman stature appeared before him. ‘Rufus,’ she was heard to say, ‘you are one who will come as proconsul into this province.’ Encouraged in his expectations by such an omen, Curtius returned to Rome. There, through bribes put about by his friends and through his own sharp intelligence, he gained a quaestorship, and subsequently, on the imperial recommendation and despite being in competition with noble candidates, a praetorship. Tiberius, in fact, glossed over Rufus’ shameful family background with the words ‘Curtius Rufus seems to me a man born of his achievements’. He enjoyed a long old age after this, morosely sycophantic towards his superiors, arrogant towards his inferiors, and difficult with his peers. He gained consular power, triumphal insignia, and eventually Africa, where he died and fulfilled the prophecy of his destiny.
22. At Rome, meanwhile, for no apparent reason, and none that was later discovered, the Roman knight Gnaeus Nonius* was detected armed with a sword amidst those paying their respects* to the emperor. After his body-destroying torture began, he did not deny his own guilt, but did not name accomplices, though whether he was hiding any is unclear.
In the same consulship Publius Dolabella proposed the annual staging of a gladiatorial show* at the expense of men successful in their bid for the quaestorship. In the days of our ancestors magistracies had been awarded on merit, with all citizens allowed to seek office if they had confidence in their good qualities. There had not even been an age qualification* preventing men from taking up the consulship and dictatorships in the early years of manhood. Quaestors were first appointed when the kings were still in power, as the renewal of the lex curiata* by Lucius Brutus* demonstrates. Their selection then remained the prerogative of the consuls until the people assumed the authority for assigning that office as well. The first elected quaestors* were Valerius Potitus and Aemilius Mamercus, in the sixty-third year after the expulsion of the Tarquins, and their function was to supervise military finances in the field. Then, as their official duties increased, two more were added with responsibilities confined to Rome. Their number was presently doubled as Italy became taxpaying and revenues also came in from the provinces. Later, under the legislation of Sulla,* twenty were elected as an addition to the Senate, to whose authority Sulla had transferred the law courts. And although the knights later recovered responsibility for the law courts, the granting of the quaestorship remained cost-free, and depended on the quality of the candidates or the indulgence of the electors—until it was more or less put on sale by Dolabella’s motion.
23. In the consulship of Aulus Vitellius* and Lucius Vipstanus, there was debate over bringing up the numbers of the Senate, and the foremost men of the so-called ‘Long-haired’ Gaul*—who had acquired treaty privileges and citizenship* long before—requested the right to hold office in Rome. There was a lot of wide-ranging discussion of the matter. Before the emperor,* too, the issue was debated with much passion on both sides, some insisting that Italy was not so feeble that she could not provide her own capital with a senate. In the past, they said, rule by native Romans had been satisfactory for peoples who were related to them by blood, and nobody had any complaint about the republic of former times. In fact, people were still citing examples relating to virtue and achieving glory that the Roman character had produced through its old-time morality. Was it not enough that the Veneti and the Insubres had broken into the Curia, without the Romans now having a kind of captivity imposed on them with this tribe of foreigners? What honour would they be leaving for such as remained of the nobility, or for any senator of modest means coming from Latium? Those rich foreigners would swamp everything—those men whose grandfathers and great-grandfathers had commanded enemy tribes and cut down our armies in furious conflict, and besieged the deified Julius at Alesia!* But these were recent examples, they said; what about remembering those felled by the hands of the same people in the Capitol* and citadel of Rome? By all means let them enjoy being called citizens, but let them not cheapen the insignia of the Senate* and the dignity of the offices of state.
24. The emperor was unmoved by these and similar comments. He immediately stated the opposite view, and he also convened the Senate* and proceeded to address them in the following manner:
‘Of my own ancestors, the most ancient, Clausus,* was of Sabine origin, but he was accepted at the same time both for Roman citizenship and for membership in the patrician families of the city. Those ancestors therefore urge me to follow the same procedure in the administration of state policy, bringing here all that is excellent anywhere else. For I am not unaware that the Julii were admitted into the Senate from Alba, the Coruncanii from Camerium, and the Porcii from Tusculum, and that—not to be delving into ancient instances— men were admitted from Etruria, Lucania, and the whole of Italy. I am aware, too, that Italy itself was pushed forward to the Alps* so that whole lands and nations, and not just individual persons, might be brought together under our name. Then we had real peace* at home; and we faced foreign lands with strength when the Transpadanes were admitted to citizenship and when, under the guise of settling our legions in colonies* throughout the world, we resuscitated our weary empire by adding to it the strongest of the provincials. Surely we have no regrets about the Balbuses* having joined us from Spain, and men no less distinguished from Narbonese Gaul? Their descendants are still here, and they do not take second place to us in love for this country. What else was it that spelled destruction for the Spartans and the Athenians,* militarily powerful though they were, if not their segregation of conquered peoples as foreigners? By contrast, our founder Romulus showed such wisdom that he regarded numerous peoples as his enemies and then as his fellow-citizens on the very same day! Foreigners have ruled over us; and the granting of magistracies to the sons of freedmen is not something totally new, as many wrongly suppose, but was a practice of our people in the old days. “But we fought with the Senones,” it is argued. Of course the Vulsci and the Aequi never deployed a battle-line against us! “We were captured by the Gauls!” But we also gave hostages to the Etruscans,* and passed under the yoke of the Samnites.* And yet, if one reviews all our wars, none was brought to an end in a shorter time than that against the Gauls,* since when there has been peace, uninterrupted and faithfully observed. Now they are integrated with us in culture, the arts, and family connections; let them bring us their gold and their wealth rather than keep it to themselves! Senators, everything that is now believed to be really ancient was once new. There were plebeian magistrates after patrician, Latin magistrates after plebeian, and magistrates of the other races of Italy after the Latin. This step will also become established, and what we are defending today with precedents will itself be amongst future precedents.’
25. A decree of the Senate followed the emperor’s speech, and the Aedui* became the first to gain the right to become senators in Rome. This was granted them in view of their long-standing treaty,* and also because they are the only Gauls who retain the title of ‘brothers’ of the Roman people.
At about the same time Claudius admitted to the ranks of the patricians* all senators with long service or who had eminent parents. (By now few of the families that Romulus had designated ‘Greater’,* and those that Lucius Brutus had termed ‘Lesser’, were still in existence, and even those that the dictator Caesar had appointed as replacements under the Lex Cassia, and the emperor Augustus under the Lex Saenia,* were finished.) These duties, which were deemed to be in the interests of the state, were begun with great pleasure on the part of the censor.
Claudius was now concerned over how he could expel from the Senate those with a reputation for immorality, and he applied a clement and recently devised technique instead of the old-fashioned hard line. He advised these people to consider their own records, and then request permission to leave the senatorial rank. Permission would readily be given, he told them, and he would publish the names of those removed from the Senate alongside those who were excused. In this way, he said, the mixing of the negative judgement of the censors with the modesty of those retiring of their own volition would alleviate the shame.
In recognition of this, the consul Vipstanus proposed that Claudius be formally called ‘Father of the Senate’, for, he said, the title ‘Father of the Nation’ was held by others, too, and these new services to the state deserved to be honoured in terms not in regular use. Claudius, however, checked the consul, thinking his flattery too effusive. He also performed the census-purification,* at which time the count of the citizens* was 5,984,072.
This point also spelled the end of Claudius’ ignorance about his family situation. Not long afterwards he was forced to take note of, and to punish, his wife’s scandalous behaviour, and the outcome of this was a passion that would lead him to an incestuous marriage.*
26. The adulterous affair going too easily, Messalina became bored and began to drift into bizarre sexual practices. At this point Silius himself started to push for a swift end to their secrecy; either he was suffering from a fatal delusion, or he thought that the remedy for the dangers hanging over them lay in acts that were themselves dangerous. They had not come so far just to wait for the emperor’s old age, he told her. To the innocent, planning ahead brought no harm; but when offences were in the open, assistance had to be sought from bold action. They had associates at hand who had the same fears as they. He himself was unmarried, childless, and ready to marry her and adopt Britannicus. Messalina’s power would remain the same, he said, but safety would be added if they pre-empted Claudius, who was not on his guard against treachery but was swift to anger.
These remarks were received with little enthusiasm. This was not because of Messalina’s love for her husband, but from fear that Silius, having reached the heights, would shun his lover, and would come to assess at its true value a crime to which he had given his approval only in time of peril. But she passionately desired the title ‘wife’ because the notion was utterly scandalous—and that, for the profligate, is the ultimate pleasure. Waiting only for Claudius to leave for Ostia* to hold a sacrifice, she went through a marriage ceremony with all its formalities.
27. I am well aware that it will seem incredible* that, in a city that knows all and conceals nothing, any members of the human race could have been so reckless. Even more incredible that a consul-designate, on a prearranged date and with signatories present, should have come together with an emperor’s wife ‘for the purpose of having legitimate children’! Incredible that she heard the words of the auspices, took vows, and sacrificed to the gods! That they took their places for dinner with guests, that there were kisses and embraces, and that they finally spent the night together freely as a married couple! But nothing in my account has been invented for sensationalism; it is what our elders heard and passed down in writing.
28. So a shudder had run throughout the emperor’s court. In particular there were indignant protests—and no longer in hushed conversations, but openly expressed—from those with whom the power lay, and who would live in fear were there a change of regime. When an actor* had been defiling the emperor’s bedroom, they said, an insult had certainly been delivered but there had been little prospect of destruction. Now a young nobleman cutting an elegant figure, possessed of a strong intellect, and with a consulship forthcoming was preparing for a greater prospect. For what lay beyond such a marriage was quite clear. There is no doubt that alarm swept over them as they thought about Claudius’ naivety and his subservience to his wife, and about the many killings brought off on Messalina’s orders. On the other hand the emperor’s easygoing nature itself gave some reason for confidence that Messalina could be crushed, condemned before she was even tried—if they won him over first with the enormity of the charge. It was in whether her defence would be given a hearing that the danger lay, and in whether his ears could be closed to her even if she confessed.
29. Initially, Callistus*—whom I have already discussed in connection with the assassination of Gaius Caesar—came together with Narcissus,* who had engineered the murder of Appius,* and with Pallas,* who was then at the height of his influence. They discussed whether to use secret threats to divert Messalina from her passion for Silius while at the same time concealing everything else. Then two backed out, fearing that it might actually entail their own downfall, Pallas through faint-heartedness, and Callistus because he had also had experience of the previous regime, from which he was aware that power was more safely maintained by wary than by impetuous policies. Narcissus went ahead, making only one change: in no conversation would he let Messalina have any foreknowledge that she was being charged and who was accusing her.
Narcissus kept watching for an opportunity, and then while Claudius was on a prolonged stay in Ostia he induced two prostitutes, with whose sexual services Claudius had been very familiar, to take on the role of informers. He did that by financial rewards and promises, and by pointing out to them the increased power they would enjoy once the wife was removed.
30. Next Calpurnia (as one of the prostitutes was called) was given a private audience with Claudius. She flung herself before his knees and declared that Messalina had married Silius, and at the same time she asked Cleopatra, who was standing beside her waiting for the question, whether she had also learned of it. Cleopatra nodded and Calpurnia then requested that Narcissus be called.
Narcissus asked for Claudius’ pardon for his past conduct in having concealed from him his knowledge of the likes of Titius, Vettius, and Plautius.* He then added that he would not make adultery an issue even on this occasion, in case Claudius set about demanding back his own home, his slaves, and all the other trappings of his station. No, Silius could have the benefit of those things, he said—but he should restore the wife and break the wedding tablets. ‘Are you aware that you are divorced?’ Narcissus asked him. ‘For the people, the Senate, and the soldiers saw the wedding, and if you do not move quickly the husband controls the city.’
31. Claudius then called in his closest friends, and first of all interrogated Turranius,* prefect of the grain supply, and after him Lusius Geta,* who was in command of the praetorians. When these confessed the truth, the others all proceeded to shout each other down, urging Claudius to go to the camp, secure the praetorian cohorts, and see first to his security before his revenge. It is well established that Claudius was so overwhelmed with panic that, time after time, he asked if he was master of the empire, and if Silius was still a private citizen.
Messalina’s extravagant behaviour was wilder than ever. Autumn was well advanced, and she was staging a tableau of the grape-harvest throughout the house. Presses were in operation, vats were overflowing, and there were women dressed in animal skins leaping about like maenads sacrificing or driven into a frenzy. Messalina herself, her hair streaming, brandished a thyrsus, and beside her was an ivy-garlanded Silius, wearing high boots and tossing his head, while all around them rose the din of a dissolute chorus. They say that, in fun, Vettius Valens* struggled up a very tall tree, and when people asked him what he saw he replied that there was a terrible storm in the area of Ostia. Perhaps such a thing had started to appear, or perhaps it was just a casual remark that became regarded as prophetic.
32. Meanwhile actual messengers—not simply a rumour—were coming in from all quarters to report that Claudius was aware of everything and that he was on his way, eager to exact vengeance. Messalina accordingly left for the Gardens of Lucullus and, to hide his fear, Silius left to take up his duties in the Forum. The others slipped away in all directions, centurions appeared, and any found in the streets or in hiding were put in irons. The setback prevented any planning, but Messalina boldly determined to meet and be seen by her husband—an approach that had often proved effective in the past—and she sent instructions for Britannicus and Octavia to go and embrace their father. She also begged Vibidia,* the senior of the Vestal Virgins, to seek an audience with the supreme pontiff and try to gain his mercy. Meanwhile, with only three companions—so alone did she suddenly find herself—she walked the whole length of the city and then set out on the road for Ostia on a cart employed for garden refuse. There was no pity from anyone; her atrocious crimes outweighed everything.
33. There was no less alarm on Claudius’ part, for his men did not have much confidence in the praetorian prefect Geta, who was equally unreliable whether the cause were honourable or wicked. Narcissus therefore enlisted the support of others who harboured the same fears and declared that the only hope of saving Claudius’ life lay in the emperor transferring command of the troops, for that one day, to one of the freedmen; and he offered to take it on himself. Also, so that Claudius would not be influenced by Lucius Vitellius and Largus Caecina* to regret his decision on the return journey to Rome, Narcissus demanded a seat in the same carriage and was taken on board.
34. It was frequently reported later that the emperor’s remarks were inconsistent, as at one moment he would berate his wife’s scandalous conduct, but then he would occasionally lapse into recollections of his marriage and the early years of their children. Meanwhile, it was said, Vitellius murmured only, ‘Ah, such a crime! Such villainy!’ Narcissus pressed him to clarify his ambiguous remarks and let the truth be known, but succeeded only to the extent of having him reply with vague comments capable of being interpreted as required; and Caecina Largus followed his example.
Messalina was now in view and shrieking out that he should listen to the mother of Octavia and Britannicus. Her accuser shouted her down with the story of Silius and the wedding. At the same time, to take Claudius’ eyes from her, he passed him some writing tablets that detailed her depravities. Shortly afterwards, as the emperor was entering the city, the children they shared were brought to him— but Narcissus had them removed. He could not, however, push to one side a highly indignant demand from Vibidia that a wife not be consigned to her death without a defence. He therefore replied that the emperor would hear her and she would have the opportunity of rebutting the charge. Meanwhile, the Vestal Virgin should go away and attend to her sacral duties.
35. During all of this Claudius maintained a strange silence, while Vitellius seemed stunned; and everything was passing under the freedman’s control. Narcissus issued orders for the adulterer’s home to be opened up and the emperor to be taken there. First he showed Claudius the statue of Silius’ father* on display in the vestibule (though this had been banned by senatorial decree), and then pointed to all the heirlooms of the Nerones and Drusi* that had accrued to this household in payment for its depravity. Claudius was fuming, and broke into threats. Narcissus then took him to the camp, where an assembly of the troops had been arranged. At the prompting of the freedman, Claudius spoke briefly, for shame would not let him express his indignation, justified though it was. Then from the cohorts came one long cry as they demanded the names of the miscreants and their punishment; and when Silius was brought before the tribunal he did not try to defend himself or seek a delay, asking only that his execution come quickly. The same resolution was also found in some distinguished Roman knights. Claudius ordered the following accomplices given over for execution: Titius Proculus, appointed as guardian for Messalina by Silius and now offering to denounce her; Vettius Valens, who confessed his guilt; Pompeius Urbicus; and Saufeius Trogus. Decrius Calpurnianus, the prefect of the watch, Sulpicius Rufus, procurator of a gladiator school, and the senator Juncus Vergilianus also received the same penalty.
36. Only Mnester’s case caused some hesitation. Tearing his clothes, he cried out that Claudius should inspect his stripes from the lash and remember the words he had used to make him subject to Messalina’s bidding. Others were guilty through bribery or excessive ambition, he said, but he was so from necessity, nor would anyone have been facing death earlier than he if Silius were in power. Claudius was impressed by such arguments and was inclining towards mercy when the freedmen prevailed upon him not to concern himself about an actor when so many distinguished men had now been put to death. Whether Mnester had acted of his own accord or under coercion was irrelevant when the crime he had committed was so terrible, they said. Not even the defence of the Roman knight Traulus Montanus was accepted. He was a decent but good-looking young man who had actually been sent for by Messalina, and then pitched out by her, in the space of a single night, for she was as fitful in taking dislike as she was in developing a passion. Suillius Caesoninus* and Plautius Lateranus* were spared the death penalty, Lateranus because of his uncle’s outstanding service. Caesoninus’ protection lay in his perversions: in that disgusting gathering he had played only the woman’s role.
37. Meanwhile, in the Gardens of Lucullus, Messalina was trying to extend her life. She was drafting a plea, not without hope and with bursts of anger—such was her pride even in this desperate situation! And had not Narcissus accelerated her death, destruction would have recoiled on the accuser. For on returning home Claudius had been calmed by a protracted dinner, and when he felt the mellowing effects of wine he ordered a man to go with a message for the ‘poor woman’ (his exact expression, they say) that she should appear to plead her case the following day. The words were noted. Anger was subsiding and love returning, and there was fear for the oncoming night and Claudius’ reminiscing about his wife’s bedchamber. Narcissus therefore rushed out and instructed the centurions and the tribune on duty to carry out the execution—it was on the emperor’s order, he said. One of the freedmen, Euodus, was to oversee the deed and ensure its completion. He swiftly went ahead to the gardens, where he found Messalina prostrate on the ground. Sitting beside her was her mother Lepida* who, estranged from her daughter in her heyday, had been brought round to compassion in her bleakest hour, and was now urging her not to wait for the executioner. Her life was over, she told her, and all that remained was to seek death with honour. But the woman’s mind, corrupted by debauchery, had no spark of decency left in it. There were tears and lamentations, uselessly prolonged, and then the doors were broken in with a charge from the new arrivals. Before her, in silence, stood the tribune, but there too was the freedman, berating her with a torrent of abuse appropriate for slaves.
38. That was when Messalina first understood her situation. She took a blade and, as she fumbled with it, vainly trying to put it to her throat or breast, she was run through by a sword-thrust from the tribune. The body was given up to her mother. Claudius was dining when he was brought the news that Messalina had died, whether by her own hand or another’s being left unclear. And he did not ask; he simply called for a cup and carried on with the routine of the banquet. Even in the days that followed he gave no sign of resentment or joy, anger or sadness, or any other emotion of a human being—not even when he saw the delight of her accusers, and not when he saw the grief of his children. The Senate helped him to erase her memory, decreeing that her name and statues be removed from private and public locations. The insignia of a quaestor were awarded by decree to Narcissus, a mere trifle for a haughty man who comported himself as the superior of Pallas and Callistus. … †It was certainly honourable, but from it would come terrible consequences.*