Political Dissidence Under Nero: The Price of Dissimulation

POLITICAL DISSIDENCE UNDER NERO

POLITICAL DISSIDENCE UNDER NERO The price of dissimulation

Vasily Rudich

London and New York

First published 1993 by Routledge 11 New Fetter Lane, London EC4P 4EE This edition published in the Taylor & Francis e-Library, 2005. “To purchase your own copy of this or any of Taylor & Francis or Routledge’s collection of thousands of eBooks please go to www.eBookstore.tandf.co.uk.” Simultaneously published in the USA and Canada by Routledge 29 West 35th Street, New York, NY 10001 © 1993 Vasily Rudich All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilized in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data Rudich, Vasily Political Dissidence Under Nero: The price of dissimulation I. Title 937 Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data Rudich, Vasily Political dissidence under Nero: The price of dissimulation/Vasily Rudich. p. cm. Includes bibliographical references and index. 1. Rome-Politics and government—30 BC—68 AD. 2. Dissenters-Rome. I. Title. DG285.3.R83 1993 937 ′.07–dc20 92–7604 ISBN 0-203-97599-5 Master e-book ISBN

ISBN 0-415-06951-3 (Print Edition)

Elena Alexandrovna Millior (1900–78)

IN MEMORIAM

CONTENTS

Preface

ix

Acknowledgments

xiii

INTRODUCTION: THE AGE OF DISSIMULATION

xv

The Augustan principate; “Ancestral customs”; The status of the Senate; Senatorial dissimulatio; The equestrians, the urban plebs, and the provincials; “Many and good” versus “few and powerful”; The informers; The Imperial “friends and companions;” The Imperial family: “dynastic dissidents”; Nero’s personality; The rhetoricized mentality of the Latin Silver Age 1

THE YEARS OF EXPECTATION

I—

Death of Claudius and Nero’s accession; M.Iunius Silanus;

II—

The dawn of the Golden Age; Nero’s “Augustianism”; The murder of Britannicus;

III—

The “golden five years”; Seneca and Burrus;

IV—

Agrippina and Rubellius Plautus; Cornelius Sulla, Burrus, and Pallas; The Vibullius-Antistius Sosianus affair;

V—

Pomponia Graecina, the “religious dissident”; The case of Suillius Rufus; Poppaea Sabina and Otho; Iulius Montanus, a dissident by misadventure;

1

vi

VI— 2

The exile of Cornelius Sulla; Thrasea Paetus and the “theory of small deeds” THE YEARS OF FRUSTRATION

I—

The matricide; Thrasea Paetus’ démarche;

II—

Nero’s public image; The festivals of Juvenalia and the Neronia I;

III—

The exile of Rubellius Plautus; The revolt in Britain; Agricola;

IV—

The debate over the household of Pedanius Secundus; The ferocious Cassius Longinus;

V—

Memmius Regulus, the model senator; The first treason trial: Antistius Sosianus; Thrasea Paetus’ “liberty”; Fabricius Veiento; Persius;

VI—

Death of Burrus; The rise of Tigellinus; Seneca’s retirement;

VII—

Execution of Rubellius Plautus and Cornelius Sulla; The murder of Octavia

3

THE YEARS OF ACTION

I—

The mysterious denunciation: Thrasea Paetus’ “secession”;

II—

Nero in Naples; P.Vatinus, the Imperial parasite; D.Iunius Silanus Torquatus;

III—

Sex, scandal, and glamor; Nero as werewolf; The Great Fire and persecution of the Christians;

IV—

The Pisonian conspiracy: origin and membership; C.Calpurnius Piso;

V—

Lucan; Plautius Lateranus;

VI—

The equestrians and the praetorians: Claudius Senecio and Subrius Flavius; Epicharis;

VII—

Exposure of the plot and breakdown of the plotters: Flavius Scaevinus and antonius Natalis;

VIII—

Death of Seneca;

IX—

Executions; The case of Faenius Rufus;

X—

Vestinus Atticus, “sexual dissident”; The victims; Musonius Rufus, “the Roman Socrates”;

XI—

The winners; Milichus “the Savior”; Nerva, agent provocateur?

4

THE YEARS OF DECIMATION: I

33

71

125

vii

I—

Queen Dido’s treasure; The fiscal crisis; Confiscations and proceeds; The Roman “Gulag”; Neronia II; Death of Poppaea Sabina; Nero’s matrimonial plans: Antonia and Statilia Messallina, his last wife;

II—

The attack on Cassius Longinus and L.Iunius Silanus Torquatus; The family of Antistius Vetus;

III—

The fate of Anteius Rufus and Ostorius Scapula; Antistius Sosianus, the dissident turncoat; Rufrius Crispinus; Seneca’s two brothers; Annaeus Cornutus; Anicius Cerealis;

IV—

Petronius, “the aesthetic dissident”;

V—

Barea Soranus and his daughter Servilia; Thrasea Paetus: “virtue itself”; The Stoicized senator; Cossutianus Capito’s offensive;

VI—

The trial of Thrasea Paetus; Eprius Marcellus as prosector; The crime of inactivity; Thrasea Paetus’ “circle”: Helvidius Priscus, Paconius Agrippinus, Curtius Montanus; Thrasea Paetus’ last hours: “Behold, young man…”

5

THE YEARS OF DECIMATION: II

I—

(Digression: the Vespasianic “thaw”; The Neronian informers in the time of trouble; Helvidius Priscus versus Eprius Marcellus);

II—

Nero’s Grand Tour; Nero and the Greeks;

III—

Vespasian: the years before the purple; The outbreak of the Jewish War;

IV—

The “Vinician” conspiracy; Decimation in the army: Domitius Corbulo and the Scribonii brothers;

V—

The “regency” of Helius; The fall of the Crassi; (Digression: the Vespasianic “thaw”; Senatorial campaign against the informers; The failed impeachment of Aquilius Regulus);

VI—

Nero’s return; The gathering of the storm

6

THE YEAR OF REVOLUTION

I—

“The War over Nero”; The revolt of Vindex;

II—

Verginius Rufus and his “divine and immortal deed”; Clodius Macer, the adventurer;

III—

Galba: his career and proclamation; The “pronunciamento” of Vitellius; The “Five-Day-Caesar”, Piso Licinianus; Otho’s putsch; Tiberius Alexander;

169

197

viii

IV—

The agony of Tigellinus; Nymphidius Sabinus and his abortive coup; Nero’s end: “What an artist…” Conclusion

225

Notes

231

Select bibliography

323

Index of names

335

Index of subjects

351

PREFACE

I conceived this study long ago, in what was then the Soviet Union, during my graduation year at Leningrad State University when I began to experience the adverse effects of my participation in the dissident democratic movement on my academic prospects. The entire idea seemed at the time no more than a fantasy: to embark upon such a project in pre-Gorbachevian Russia would have been both futile and dangerous. Official jargon equated dissidents with criminals, and the word itself had only a derogatory meaning. Also, I had already learned my lesson: several years earlier an article I wrote on Imperial administration in Rome under Claudius was denied publication on the grounds that it implied criticism of the Soviet system. From the outset I was conscious of the danger of distorting the past by retrojecting onto it expectations and experiences of the present—a danger particularly acute in my case, given my own dissident biography. The task demands imaginative empathy with a mentality in many respects alien to our own. It calls for an “internalization” of the dissident predicament in Nero’s Rome as seen and felt by the Imperial dissidents themselves, for a recreation of their thought and conduct through their own conceptual and verbal means, and the present-day researcher must share to some extent their dissident bias—their hopes, fallacies, and despair. At the same time, one must avoid the trap of cultural relativism. Thucydides and Tacitus were justified in their belief in the immutability of human nature. Each of us, independently of the culture to which we belong, is fully open to basic emotional experiences—love, fear, anger, and such—and it is only in our behavior that they take on manifestations specific to a particular historical moment. This inquiry thus belongs to the field of historical psychology (to be sharply distinguished from psychohistory); it deals with the balance between the universal and the historically-determined components of human motive, thought, and action— though as a scholarly discipline it is still at an early stage of formation. In order to avoid any semantic confusion, it is imperative to make it clear that a number of the modern words I have to use in my narrative to describe various features of Roman political reality are so employed merely for the sake of convenience and should not be taken for misnomers reflecting the specifics of our present-day political language and institutions. Thus the word “dissidence” means in the context of this book a political and psychological phenomenon arising from the dynamic tension

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between personal ideals and the demands of practical necessity. Although it may be argued that it constitutes a perennial aspect of human history, in each period and culture dissidence manifests itself in a variety of forms often different from those to which we are accustomed today. Unlike other forms of dissent, such as ethnic or religious, dissidence is primarily a matter of political orientation. The word “government” as applied to the early Roman Empire should not suggest, of course, a repressive machine of the Soviet or Nazi type pursuing a consistent and coordinated policy against dissidents. Still, as in any ordered society, there existed in Rome a hierarchy of administration, at the top of which stood the emperor and his associates, the central source of command. In other words, there were those who issued orders and those who executed them—that is, the “government,” men who could, if they wished, exercise policies of harassment against individuals and groups and create an atmosphere of terror, so vividly portrayed in the literature of the times. In contrast to “government,” I use the word “regime” with the purpose of emphasizing the personal character of Imperial rule. As Tacitus implies in a famous passage (Ann., 4, 33), under monarchy it is the personality of the monarch that matters. For this reason, Nero’s regime differed substantially in many respects from, say, that of Vespasian. Finally, speaking of a Roman “statesman” I do not mean a modern professional politician, but merely a man of the upper classes who was for a considerable period of time involved in the conduct of public affairs. Dissidence is a complex state of mind, and it is only natural that literature reflects it best. Other documentary evidence, such as coins and inscriptions, is of little help. In Rome, however, literature was produced by the upper, educated classes and intended for their own consumption. It contains very scant evidence on dissidence (or the lack of it) among the rest of the populace—certainly not enough for any meaningful discussion of it during the fourteen years of Nero’s reign. Still, I am aware that in today’s intellectual climate my very concentration on the senatorial order may cause some annoyance and provoke charges of elitism. It must, however, be recognized that dissidence is born at the intersection of conscience and consciousness and requires a certain degree of sophistication. Consequently, it becomes perceptible and appreciable only within the framework of high culture which, whether we approve or not, constitutes for most of our history the province of the privileged and the educated. The Roman upper classes were detestable in their political narrow-mindedness, social snobbery, and ruthless pursuit of self-interest. At the same time, they cannot be denied something which forms an important aspect of my inquiry—their deep concern with the meaning of freedom, which is, after all, a perennial human value. For a study of political dissidence in the early Roman Empire we are fortunate to possess one first-rate historical source in the writings of Tacitus, the prime authority for the period. It is true that Tacitus’ passionate imagination, sense of drama, and literary brilliance have often led modern critics to question his essential reliability. But a historical interpreter cannot disregard him as a main source: he decided what he wanted his readers to know and not to know, and thus presented his material.

xi

Whatever his social and political prejudice, his narrative was accepted by his audience as plausible and sharing their own sentiments and attitudes, and it is this very audience that makes the subject of the present book. This is why the dispute between historical and literary experts on the character of Tacitus’ evidence has little bearing on my argument; in fact, the historical and literary dimensions of his work do not necessarily contradict each other: they may well be complementary. The analysis of Tacitus’ text requires a careful distinction between fact and innuendo in his reportage. More than thirty years ago Sir Ronald Syme demonstrated Tacitus’ fundamental factual accuracy, and his conclusions have never been seriously impugned. Both a victim and a beneficiary of the Imperial rule, Tacitus often speaks of the dissident plight with an eloquence no modern scholar can hope to match. This has compelled me to make frequent use of quotation or paraphrase so that the reader can better appreciate the detail of a circumstance or a psychological nuance. Our other authorities, in the first place Suetonius and Cassius Dio, must be used judiciously where Tacitus fails. Although Suetonius shared most of the latter’s written sources, he also perused documentary evidence available to him in his position as secretary under Hadrian. Cassius Dio, on the other hand, offers an alternative tradition that nonetheless must be treated with caution owing to the interval of more than a hundred and fifty years and to the inaccuracy of later epitomators. All their narratives, however, strikingly concur with the literary evidence from the works of such contemporaries of the events as Seneca and the younger Pliny in portraying much of the first century AD under the Julio-Claudians and Flavians in grim colors and claiming that it was a period of ruthless oppression, random terror, and moral decadence. In the last few decades there has emerged a school of thought seeking to revise this traditional picture of the early Empire as a largely arbitrary reign of evil and to assert that it was run by an efficient and beneficent government striving for the rule of law, social stability, and economic prosperity. The contrary evidence was dismissed as the effect of dissident bias, class interest, or reactionary senatorial propaganda, and the narratives of our sources were treated according to each scholar’s own views on the plausibility of what they say. Thus the tables were turned: blame was placed on the defeated, and the victors were transformed from villains into competent rulers. Of them all, Nero’s case is the most striking: the proverbial tyrant and megalomaniac was pictured as a tragic figure worthy of compassion and even, on one occasion, as a Christian convert. Against this development, this study is bound to appear both controversial and oldfashioned. My intention is to demonstrate that the traditional portrayal of the Neronian epoch found in our sources makes sense and does not stand in need of any drastic revision on the grounds of alleged implausibility of their accounts. The reality they reflected requires a historico-psychological interpretation; it was contradictory and exceedingly complex, often seeming to us alien and bizarre and defying our habitual views of social and political behavior.

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In regard to the overall view of the Julio-Claudians, it is sobering to recall that their era ended in the national catastrophe of AD 69, a testimony not only to Nero’s failure as a statesman, but to the fallacy of the arbitrary exercise of power that they practiced. Whatever their social or economic achievement, they created unbearable tensions within the upper class that inevitably exploded. Despite a pretense of legality, theirs was not a rule of law: the charge of treason—maiestas—could under their rule be invoked at any time against anyone, covering as it did all conceivable signs of dissident behavior, and it depended solely on the emperor and his close associates whether the intended victim perished or not. To many, history still means primarily a story. This is true of the present book: it is a history of dissidents under Nero, that is, a story with plots and sub-plots. I have decided in favor of chronological narrative as opposed to a topical arrangement in the belief that individuals and events must not be isolated from the context of their immediate interaction. I hope this will make a good story accessible not only to academic readers, but also to interested laymen. This is why I have made an effort not to omit a single episode or significant detail even at the risk of rehearsing material covered in numerous scholarly works. I do hope, however, that this story will not prevail over history. The material may be familiar—as everything is in classics. What I intend is to place it into a perspective that is at the same time accurate, personal, and universal.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

This book would have never been written without the timely intervention of many people and circumstances. I was fortunate to receive from my friends and colleagues an amount of help that I would not have imagined possible. I am exceptionally grateful to Gordon Williams who is largely responsible for the fact that this book was made publishable. Not only has he read the manuscript several times, each time providing important suggestions and criticism, but he went far beyond one’s idea of collegial beneficence, patiently working on my imperfect English and devoting to it, in my view, altogether more time and greater effort than the project merited. Thomas Cole, Ramsay MacMullen, and Lowry Nelson Jr read the manuscript in full and offered numerous comments which improved it both in form and in substance. Victor Bers, Donald Kagan, and Jaroslav Pelikan read parts of it and I greatly appreciate their interest and their insights. I am also indebted to Kurt Raaflaub, James Tatum, Thomas Wiedemann, and several anonymous readers for the benevolent response to my work as well as for their sharp critical observations. I feel happy that I can now acknowledge by name colleagues and friends living in the former Soviet Union under whose influence this project was originally conceived and whom I would not have dared to mention by name in print only a few years ago, lest my reference draw them into political trouble. Even though my life there was fraught with peril and certainly lacked the comfort of my present environment, I recall not without nostalgia long hours of passionate debate in someone’s tiny kitchen of what does it mean to be a dissident or a scholar. My special thanks go to Alexander Anfertiev, Felix Balonov, Alexander Baskin, Sergei Daniel, Alexei Egorov, Rostislav Evdokimov, Eduard Frolov, Alexander Gavrilov, Iosif Kunin, the late Vladimir Makovsky, Alexander Massov, Vasily Moksiakov, Valery Otreshko, Dmitri Panchenko, Igor Shaub, and Alexander Timofeevsky. My experience of emigration and adjustment to a new society proved both excruciating and rewarding. I survived owing to the unfailing support of old and new friends, Russian and American. Elena and Valery Blinov were indispensable to me for their moral help in many difficult moments, apart from their practical aid in the preparation of the manuscript. Igor Frenkel and Marina Kostalevsky provided a willing audience to my frequent discourses on the subject of this book and never lacked truly stimulating responses. I am particularly grateful to Daniel and Joanna

xiv ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Rose for their generosity and faith in my work. Above all, I remember with fondness my aunt Rashel Krumgalz who for many years managed the material side of my existence so that I could afford the luxury of intellectual pursuit. At various stages of my work I received valuable assistance, professional, editorial, technical, or otherwise, from Nicholas Baechle, Ralph Burr Jr, Frederick Kagan, Kimberly Kessler, Eisha Lee, Zlatko Pleše, and Jay Williams. In my case, informal discussion constitutes a vital aspect of the creative process. As regards expertise in history and classics, this book profited from my conversations with and the opinions of Ivo Banac, John Boswell, Paul Bushkovitch, Kevin Crotty, Richard Garner, Herbert Golder, George Goold, Thomas Greene, Kenneth Harl, John Herington, Diana Kleiner, Jerzy Lindersky, Edith Lounès, Natalia Lozovsky, William Odom, Wilkins Poe, Norma Quesada, Claude Rawson, Brian Roots, Elihu Rose, Eric Varner, and Robin Winks. Of others who contributed to my better comprehension of the dissident phenomenon I want to name the late Alexander Abramov, Liudmila Alexeeva, the late Andrei Amalrik, Bart Aronson, Valery Chalidze, the late Olga Chor, Victor Enyutin, Alexander Essenin-Volpin, Efim Etkind, Svetlana Evdokimova, the late Rev. Cyril Fotiev, Adam Friedman, Vladimir Goldstein, Olena Grigorenko, Robert Haugh, Dimitri Ivanov, the late Lydia Ivanova, Leslie and Robert Jackson, Aron Katzenelenbogen, Boris Kerdimun, Boris Khazanov, Lev Kopelev, Nikolai Kotrelev, Wolfgang Leonhard, Leon and Rita Lipson, Pavel Litvinov, Dorothee Metlitzki, Rev. Mikhail Meyerson, Czeslaw Milosz, the late Raissa Orlova, the late Alexis Rannit, Daniel Romanovsky, Gideon Rose, Maria Rozanova, Felix Roziner, Lev Rudkevich, Alexander Schenker, Andrei Sinyavsky, Edward Stankiewicz, the late Georgi Svet-Moldavsky, Anna and Grigory Tamarchenko, the late Nadezhda Ulanovskaya, Tomas Venclova, Alphonse Vinh, and Fareed Zakaria. I extend my thanks to all members of Yale’s Department of Classics for their cordial encouragement, to the Morse Foundation which allowed me a year of concentrated scholarship, and to Yale University for being the wonderful place that it is. Last but not the least, I am grateful to my patient editors Sue Bilton, Sarah Conibear, Heather McCallum, and Richard Stoneman and to the staff of Routledge. It goes without saying that all faults and flaws in this book are entirely mine. Vasily Rudich New Haven, May 1992

INTRODUCTION THE AGE OF DISSIMULATION

The reign of Nero Caesar Augustus (AD 54–68), a time of terror and of a crisis of values, is well suited for a case study of dissidence under the Roman Empire. It was Nero who imposed an increasingly repressive regime on the upper classes and, through his policies and personal conduct, most persistently undermined the foundations of traditional moralism. The narrative of this book is chronological and prosopographical: each of the first four chapters roughly corresponds to a book in Tacitus’ Annales, and the last two deal respectively with the period beyond his extant text and with the events of Nero’s overthrow. Basically, this is an analysis of individual careers and of individual episodes aimed at explaining dissident conduct and exploring the dissident mind. The constitutional arrangement known as the principate, invented by Caesar Augustus, was a complicated phenomenon, and its character continues to inspire a heated scholarly debate. Still, it is fair to say that, seen in retrospect (as the Neronian dissidents saw it), the new dispensation cleverly combined one-man rule with a republicanist façade. In appearance, Augustus preserved all traditional institutions intact, but transformed them by and large into channels of personal power while building up alongside them a centralized officialdom of his own. Effectively autocratic, the new government nonetheless claimed to be its very opposite—the so-called “restored Republic.” This “schizophrenic” state of affairs led to further complexities. The primary discrepancy between the de iure and de facto aspects of societal life meant a variety of gaps between verba and acta, words and deeds, manifest in collective as well as individual behavior. It was an uncanny world of illusion and delusion, of ambivalences and ambiguities on all levels of interaction. But it is that dichotomy that provides us with an instrument for conceptual treatment. The Romans never sharply distinguished, as we often do, between politics and ethics. Their vision of human society represented a sort of moral political continuum. This was, for instance, why Cicero considered the reform of the government largely in terms of moral regeneration. In De Re Publica (e.g., 5, 2) he makes moral excellence a prerequisite for bearers of power in any system—be it monarchy, oligarchy, or democracy. In De Officiis he elaborates in great detail on the moral qualities to be possessed by an exemplary participant in public life. In De Legibus he

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portrays the state of affairs that ought to result when the higher moral law inherent in nature—ius divinum—is observed by the entire community. In this emphasis on viri and mores—“men and morals”—as the principal constituents of Rome’s past, present, and future, Cicero was in full agreement not only with all other Latin authors, but also with the man who became his political antagonist and eventual destroyer— Caesar Augustus. On the other hand, the early Imperial society, like our own, suffered from a pervasive crisis of values. It started under the Republic with the growth of individualism as a consequence of the Roman conquests, particularly of the Hellenistic East. The policy of territorial expansion opened an opportunity to the members of the senatorial oligarchy for a pursuit of self-interest that could not be fully restrained by exercise of senatorial or popular authority. The prospect of selfaggrandizement inevitably came into conflict with the set of prescriptions known as the mos maiorum—“the customs of our ancestors”—that was for centuries supposed by the Romans to govern public and private conduct. Rooted in their understanding of virtue, it originally reconciled their sense of communal duty and that of individual dignity. The notion of virtus demanded from a Roman an unquestioned self-sacrificing service to the state, the civitas. Such behavior fulfilled a sacred obligation, the display of pietas. The same exercise of virtus, however, was also the means to enhance his individual dignitas, growth of self-esteem, public and hierarchical image, secured through deference to him by his social equals. In the eyes of the senatorial nobility it came close to being identical with libertas—freedom of political initiative and pursuit of public glory. For the most part, the republican framework based on the principles of electivity, collegiality, and accountability made it possible for those concerned to implement and perpetuate all these aspects of virtus. Even after the senatorial government was reduced as a result of civil strife to a rivalry of factions presided over by military strongmen, one could still identify the interests of one’s faction with the interests of the commonwealth and thus maintain a semblance of moral integrity. All this changed dramatically with the movement of the society from the Republic to the Empire. By this time the lower classes were effectively excluded from any meaningful participation in public life. Political activity was confined to the upper echelon, the senatorial order, and it is with their dissident sensibilities that the present inquiry is mainly concerned. The contradiction between the mos maiorum and the new political realities created insoluble difficulties. From the senatorial perspective, the old idea of communal service was now equated with service to the ruling emperor, a figure increasingly seen as the state incarnate. Therefore, it was compatible with an individual’s sense of selfesteem only so far as the emperor, for his part, demonstrated a commitment to the “ancestral customs.” No one understood this situation better than Augustus who made every effort to portray himself as a champion of tradition—starting with his own life style and ending

INTRODUCTION xvii

with his moral and family legislation and religious reform. But Augustus’ system of government provided no check on the potential for despotism, and none of his successors in this respect equaled his acumen. The trouble started under Tiberius whose delegation of much of his power to Sejanus and withdrawal to Capri were, at best, impolitic and led to widespread belief in his personal misconduct. Nor were Claudius’ eccentricities well received, despite the professed conservatism of his rule. As for Caligula and Nero, their performance was decried as a peak of extravagance which, even if no blood were shed, was itself in the eyes of many a mark of tyranny. It is not surprising, then, that the Julio-Claudian period witnessed the final collapse of the mos maiorum. The traditional ideal could not be realized under the rule of a tyrannical emperor. In that case attitudes were affected by self-contradictory moral imperatives. Pietas, as expressed in one’s dedication to the commonwealth, played against one’s dignitas, that is, self-respect, and the other way around—since compliance with the tyrant meant complicity with the perpetrator of injustice and was considered tantamount to servitium, slavery (cf., e.g., Tac. Agr., 2; Ann., 14, 49; 15, 61), the very opposite of the original libertas through which one reconciled one’s own interests with the interests of the state. This predicament conditioned the attitudes of Imperial dissidents as well as their behavior. Depending on individual temperament, their attitudes ranged from servile acceptance of benefits from the regime to hereditary hatred of it, and their behavior from close collaboration to violent revolt. The matter was aggravated by the official fiction of the Senate as the nation’s government, with the emperor as a partner. It would be simplistic to represent this body as fully reduced in this period to insignificance. In terms of Augustus’ project, this would have been counterproductive: the goal was to domesticate, not incapacitate, the Senate. As Tacitus makes clear, the boldest champions of the Republic “perished on a battlefield or in the course of proscriptions” (Ann., 1, 2). Furthermore, the Senate underwent at least three substantial purges (28 BC, 8 BC, and AD 14) with Augustus in the capacity of censor. Finally, the traditional institution of patronage, based on the ethics of reciprocity, played a crucial role in the process. Standing at the top of the power pyramid, the emperor possessed multiple means to act as supreme patron in regard to the members of the upper classes, promoting their careers and bestowing upon them benefactions and rewards in the form of ranks, offices, decorations, or even financial assistance. In consequence, a new nobility, often recruited from municipal and even provincial gentry, filled vacancies and largely replaced the old. Even though many of them sought to identify themselves with the traditional attitudes, most of the Imperial senators were acutely conscious of their debt to, or dependence on, the emperor and recognized that they owed him loyalty in return. In retrospect, it may appear that in the course of the first century AD the Senate was occupied, in a customary mode, with affairs of state. It received embassies, legislated, sat as a court, supervised religion and public order, and elected a fair number of magistrates. As they had a century earlier, the senators competed for

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offices and participated in factional strife, creating an impression that, for the most part, everything was “business as usual.” This was decidedly not the view of Tacitus and of many in the audience that he addressed. Despite the attention he devotes to the meetings and proceedings of the Senate, he saw its condition under the JulioClaudians as, at best, only “the semblance of the Republic”—rei publicae imago (Ann., 13, 28)—and as subservient to the tyrant in the case of an emperor of whom he and his peers disapproved. It is true that the Senate continued to be recognized as a major institution and the symbol of the commonwealth. But the free play of politics and ambition, as had existed in the times of the Republic, was gone. As a body, the Senate was eff ectively deprived of the formulation of foreign policy and of the control over financial and military matters. As regards its operations, a shift of emphasis took place: from issuing orders the Senate gradually proceeded to follow them, despite the pretense of sovereignty it maintained. The emperor and the Senate entered an uneven and awkward symbiosis that was never clearly defined in constitutional terms. By custom, the former required an official investiture by the Senate; the acts of the latter acquired force only by virtue of the emperor’s authority. Since traditional (and highly valued) honors such as triumph and military acclamation were from the time of Augustus reserved exclusively for the emperor and his family, in the eyes of a senator the aristocratic belief in the pursuit of glory lost much of its luster. Rivalry within the curia over the acquisition of prestige or material benefits was still meaningful, but only to a degree: any independent behavior was allowed only within strict limits. As befitting members of the upper class, the senators continued to fill elected offices and many Imperial appointments, but at every stage an individual’s career required the emperor’s approval or could be interrupted by the emperor’s intervention, which under adverse circumstances might cost a senator his status, wealth, or even his life. Furthermore, a risk of humiliation or ruin could arise even from an encounter with the emperor’s associates, some of whom, such as the freedmen secretaries, were viewed by the senatorial class as socially inferior. The very movements of the senators in the provinces were controlled by the emperor. In a word, the emperor enjoyed supremacy at every point. As Epictetus observed, “no one is afraid of Caesar himself, but he is afraid of death, exile, loss of property, prison, disenfranchisement; nor does anyone love Caesar himself…but we love wealth, a tribuneship, a praetorship, a consulship” (4, 60). The position of the Senate, on the other hand, was paradoxical: it was at the same time in power and powerless. Often burdened by sham or routine administration, it was ultimately excluded from the high-level decision-making process and from active governance of the Empire. The appearance of “business as usual” in the Senate as well as the Senate’s presumed right of interference in various aspects of politics only deepened the dichotomy between reality and make-believe and served as a further disguise for the authoritarian nature of the emperor’s rule. This predicament underlies the younger Pliny’s exclamation addressed to Trajan in his Panegyric: “You ordered us to be free and so we shall be!” (66, 4). This was voiced to celebrate the end of the era of terror. During that era, however, the upper class was

INTRODUCTION xix

fully aware that a political career was fraught with fear and anxiety and often led to danger (cf., e.g., Sen. Rhet. Contr., 2 praef. 3f.). The high turnover of the Senate’s membership suggests that in every new generation there were many within the senatorial order who were reluctant to enter politics and compete for the magistracies they were entitled to occupy by right of birth. On the other hand, the glamor of the senatorial rank and milieu played on vanity and attracted enough individuals from outside the Senate to enter it by fiat of the emperor and remedy the loss, even though at first they would be treated with condescension by hereditary members. Each one, however, who chose to attend the curia under these conditions had to collaborate with the Imperial regime, and there were undoubtedly those who found in this collaboration a certain compensation for their exclusion from the independent role in the government they would have enjoyed under the old Republic. Under tyrannical rule, the political behavior of the senators was particularly affected by their ambivalent status: contradictory imperatives required them simultaneously to pursue a public career—the cursus honorum—and to withdraw from it through secessio. Compelled to take part in proceedings often devoid of practical import and occasionally directed against their own peers, in which case even physical presence in the curia could threaten one’s self-esteem, they found themselves oscillating between the extremes of dangerous secessio and abject adulatio. This latter was much lamented by Imperial authors like Seneca and Tacitus (e.g., Tac. Ann., 14, 12; 14, 64; 15, 74; Sen. Nat. Quaest., 4 praef., 9, etc.), though guilty of it themselves. Their portrayal of responsible statesmen steeped in the tradition of independent political conduct for half a millennium, but easily forced into a shameless contest in sycophancy, is indeed embarrassing. Modern writers often prefer, in fact, to avoid the issue and emphasize the opposition, or to look for bias in the ancient writers, or to exculpate the flatterers as honest cooperators with the new order. But to seek consistency in the conduct of the Imperial dissidents retrojects our present expectations onto the past. On the contrary, the intellectual and psychological landscape of that period was fraught with mental anguish, confused and discordant attitudes, and inconsistent behavior encapsulated in each individual’s quest for selfadjustment, when the realities of life stood in painful conflict with heartfelt beliefs. Neither was that anguish helped by recourse to Stoic doctrine, rapidly becoming fashionable in senatorial quarters. It was not existential truth, but practical wisdom, not philosophia but sapientia, that the Roman nobles, customarily suspicious of everything Greek, sought. But even Stoicism worked equivocally when applied to the main dissident concern over whether a “good man” might survive under an “evil ruler.” The Stoic argument for apatheia, the suppression of feeling, could rouse a dissident either to political intransigence or to political opportunism (cf., e.g., Sen. De Const. Sap., 5, 3f.; 19, 2f.; De Ira, 2, 31, 1f.; 33, 1ff.). Finally, the gap between attitudes and behavior was increased by the force of existimatio (“public opinion,” “reputation,” “status”) fashioning the Imperial politician’s self-image and compelling him either to embrace or to avoid a dissident course of action. From the psychological viewpoint, it is convenient to define this gap as

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dissimulatio (“concealment of one’s true feelings by a display of feigned sentiments”), the Latin word that most accurately describes the mental effects of the dissident predicament. Depending on the context, the word had several narrow meanings. But it was frequently employed by Roman authors in connection with politics, and the phenomenon it connotes is central to the argument of this book. Naturally, this phenomenon is a property of every society, including our own, in both the public and private spheres, but it is imperative to determine for each time its specific character and function. In Rome the language of dissimulatio as a f eature of political life developed late in the Republic, which is not surprising when a public career often demanded pretense and compromise: thus Sallust ominously calls Catiline simulator ac dissimulator (Cat., 5, 4). But it was in the Julio-Claudian Empire that the practice of dissimulatio acquired paramount importance, becoming a prerequisite not only of political success, but even of physical survival. Dissimulatio was a complex and contradictory state of mind within one and the same person, a resultant of conflicting forces—intellectual, emotional, and instinctive. Pertaining both to ideas and to emotions, dissimulatio operated on the conscious level but also, if it became habitual, on the subconscious. It was a condition of mental entropy, capable of perpetuating itself or of becoming self-destructive through a nervous breakdown or even a split of personality. The need for dissimulatio both impeded and facilitated the dissident quest for accommodation to reality: on the one hand, it was subject to pangs of conscience; on the other, to self-excuse through defense mechanisms. The historical context earlier outlined was responsible for the specific form of senatorial dissimulatio—an oscillation between the old behavioral stereotypes and the limits imposed upon the individual desire for moral integrity or for self-aggrandizement by the new power structure. Individual dissimulatio and public existimatio could exercise contradictory demands on one and the same person, resulting in an uneasy balance between anxiety and inertia that could lead to a paralysis of will. Even though the condition of dissimulatio was fully recognized by contemporaries, it was advisable to avoid public pronouncement on it: in AD 39 one Titius Rufus “was charged with having declared that the Senate thought one way and voted another” (Dio, 59, 18, 5) and committed suicide before the time for his trial was fixed. There is much less evidence from the Julio-Claudian period regarding manifestations of dissident attitudes and behavior outside the senatorial order. It appears, however, that the political vicissitudes of the equestrian “business class” were different and not quite as ambivalent and contradictory as those of the senators. Although, starting with the late second century BC, they competed with senators for public influence, particularly in the courts, the knights never regarded themselves as being in possession of the government. The arrival of the principate enhanced rather than diminished their social status. By the mere exercise of his will the emperor could advance to the Senate those of them who were covetous of privilege and honor and were prepared to disregard the accompanying dangers. Most of them were not, however, interested in this kind of advancement, preferring to embark upon the cursus

INTRODUCTION xxi

equitum—the ladder of military and civil posts reserved for knights in the public realm and in the Imperial domain, that is, in the administration of the huge estate belonging to the emperor. The workings of patronage made the emperor the only source and dispenser of all equestrian appointments, often very lucrative and ranging from junior legionary officer or procurator to prefect of Egypt and praetorian prefect. By the end of the first century AD, the knights comprised a substantial portion of the Imperial bureaucracy. By and large, they served the emperor loyally, recognizing their full dependence on him and identifying his interests with their own. This attitude allowed them to escape the need for a painful moral and political choice and enabled them to act, when ordered, as watchdogs of their senatorial superiors. At the same time, one can discern among the equestrians an opposite, if less apparent, movement rooted in their traditional patronage by the senators and contributing to the social and cultural integration of the two orders. Their individual or collective interests interacted and intersected, bearing on the dissident sensibilities of those knights who stood in need of dissimulatio because they chose to imitate the patterns of thought and behavior adopted by their patrons from the curia. It is arguable that the wealthy provincial class more than any other benefited from the rule of the emperors and their increasingly lavish grants of Roman citizenship. The emperors tightened control over the conduct of senatorial proconsuls and appointed their own legates, responsible to them alone, to govern crucial provinces. Still, the evidence suggests that despite a series of measures aimed at improvement provincial maladministration continued, manifest in occasional disturbances in various parts of the Empire, such as Britain, Gaul, Africa, Egypt, and even Greece. But although the existence of provincial dissidence may be surmised, there is not enough evidence for a meaningful discussion of it within the chronologically narrow confines of this study, apart from the case of the Jewish nationalists and the Greek intellectuals, two separate themes I reserve for treatment elsewhere. Similarly, little can be said of the political, let alone the dissident, sentiments of the urban plebs in the capital. It seems that the mutual rancor between the lower and upper classes, the bitter heritage from a century of civil disorder, had by no means vanished. Flavius Josephus tells us that in the aftermath of Caligula’s assassination the senators “were eager to regain their former prestige and earnestly aspired…to escape a slavery brought upon them by the insolence of the tyrants.” The people, on the other hand, “were jealous of the Senate, recognizing in the Emperors a curb upon the Senate’s encroachments and a refuge for themselves” (Ant. Jud., 19, 227f.). The emperors’ “bread and circuses” policies, a major aspect of their patronage, were successful in reaching the man on the street and ensuring their favor with him, despite the risk of occasional riots engendered by the stage or the arena. Nonetheless, the government could not fully prevent an outburst or threat of violence on the part of the common people if the issue involved proved materially vital, such as, for instance, an accidental shortage of grain, or emotionally poignant, such as brutal injustice visited upon popular individuals or groups.

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As regards the Imperial Senate, the factional strife it inherited from the Republic virtually ceased to evolve along the familiar “party” lines of rivalry between the optimates and the populares. Rather, the conflict between individuals and groups sprang from temperamental and intellectual differences encapsulated in their intent either to destroy or to preserve, by private and public conduct, the traditional set of values. In terms of membership and psychological constituents, Tacitus clearly distinguishes two camps in the curia (Hist., 4, 43) on the grounds of moral and political orientation: the multi bonique (“many and good”) on the one hand, and the pauci et validi (“few and strong”) on the other. The former are seen as adhering to the moral system based on absolute notions such as pietas and virtus, the components of the mos maiorum; the latter correspond to the human type characterized as audax, callidus, promptus (“audacious,” “adroit,” “quick to act”)—words connoting relativist ethics and social dynamism. In fact, the opportunists belonging to this latter group often filled the ranks of the powerful and unprincipled delatores—the political informers, that is to say, men who made a career of bringing political charges against the senatorial opponents of the emperor. The mechanics of the competition within the curia changed dramatically in comparison with the Republic, although at first sight it may appear that the senators continued to challenge each other or settle their grudges in the courts and elsewhere just as in the good old days. But the very existence of the emperor’s superior authority irremediably upset any semblance of fair or free-for-all play. Although the members of both camps were pursuing profit and personal or familial feuds with the same vigor as in earlier times, the exploitation of the treason charge—crimen maiestatis—by the delatores made the difference. The republican treason law against the “diminution of the majesty of the Roman people” was reinforced and reinterpreted in the last decade of Augustus. If the old statute penalized crimes such as sedition or betrayal of an army so that, in the words of Tacitus, “deeds were liable, words went immune” (Ann., 1, 72), the new reading provided for an indictment on the allegation of a lack of respect for the emperor manifest in spoken or written words or even in gestures. In contrast to the traditional political charges under the Republic, such as electoral corruption (ambitus) or extortion, prosecution for maiestas not only threatened the defendants with loss of status or financial ruin, but could cost them their lives, and the outcome of a trial depended not on any free exercise of will by their peers but on the whim of the emperor. Where political dissidence was concerned, the Imperial government abrogated any pretense at the rule of law, all achievements of Roman jurisprudence notwithstanding. As commonly occurs under a repressive regime, the competence of the treason law as to what constituted the crime of maiestas remained undefined: the reported examples range from telling anecdotes about the emperor (e.g., ibid., 74) to undressing in front of his statue. A characteristic account tells us that C.Appius Iunius Silanus (consul AD 28) was charged with treason and executed by Claudius on the grounds that his allegedly regicidal plans were revealed to the emperor’s wife

INTRODUCTION xxiii

Messallina and his trusted freedman secretary Narcissus in a dream (Suet. Div. Cl., 37; cf. Tac. Ann., 11, 29; Dio, 60, 14, 2ff.). Consequently, an attitude toward the cost of a human life may serve as a litmus test for distinguishing the sheep from the goats in the labyrinth of senatorial politics—a principle clearly recognized by contemporaries (cf. Tac. Hist., 4, 43). In the pursuance of their interests and their fights, the multi bonique tended to avoid making capital charges of treason against their colleagues, even for the sake of vengeance: delatio of this sort ran decidedly counter to the mos maiorum. The pauci et validi, on the other hand, did not hesitate to resort to maiestas prosecution if they found it expedient or profitable—a successful informer received a sizeable portion of the property of the condemned. On such occasions senatorial competition could turn into slaughter. Prosecutors rarely erred; they knew whom to inform upon so that the emperor would approve, realizing that if he did not approve they would not only miss their reward but might even be penalized. It is scarcely surprising, then, that for all these reasons the delatores were hated as members of a truly obnoxious profession—“a human species existing with a view to public ruin” (Tac. Ann., 4, 30). It must be noted that the conflict of natural ambition with the trappings of dissimulatio was not the exclusive property of the multi bonique, the members of ‘l’opposition morale.” In various ways it also affected the consciousness and behavior of the opportunist pauci et validi, and even of the delatores who often served as the instruments of terror—acting either in anticipation of the emperor’s wish or upon his direct orders. Their position within their immediate environment was fully ambiguous. As Tacitus’ Maternus says (Dial., 13), “forced to practice every kind of adulation, they, nonetheless, never appear either servile enough to the authorities, or free enough to us.” On the one hand, the fear they inspired deterred their enemies from any action aimed at their ruin (cf. Tac. Ann., 4, 36)—but only insofar as they continued to enjoy the emperor’s favor. This last, however, was by no means constant or assured; not infrequently the emperor would sacrifice a particularly hated informer to appease the public, a natural policy for a despot concerned with the prestige of his rule. Thus, in the words of Tacitus, even though Tiberius “did not wish to see the ministers of his crimes undermined by others, he felt often wearied of them and, if new men offered themselves for the same role, he struck down the old and burdensome” (ibid., 71). Furthermore, by the very nature of their activities, the delatores were too closely associated with the immediate holders of power. Their security could be imperiled by the death of the emperor they served. In addition, the downf all of a favorite or a strongman who had protected them might well seal their own fate. Under adverse circumstances, the fear they inspired would backfire, joined by hatred: we are made, for instance, to realize that upon the destruction of Sejanus the senators especially gloated about disposing of his henchmen whom they had so dreaded for years (cf. ibid., 6, 3ff.). At the same time, there is evidence that some delatores, for all their display of immoralism, were not impervious to the pressures of existimatio and resented being portrayed as unrepentant villains, which must have further increased their inner

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tension. Be that as it may, an Imperial politician embarking on a career as a delator had to be prepared for both rapid and extraordinary enrichment, accompanied by a growth in influence and political power, and for betrayal by the emperor, followed by impeachment at the hands of his own senatorial colleagues. This constant anticipation of nemesis required an inordinate strength of will and very substantial skill to withstand. It is not surprising that men of this mold who managed to survive impressed their contemporaries and occasionally aroused grudging admiration even among their mortal foes. The emperor’s own entourage, consisting of the amici and comites—“friends” and “companions”—was formed on the basis of sympathy, trust, or even caprice. Many of those who belonged to this group played the role of intimate advisor to the emperor, and as a rule it did not matter whether they were individually associated in the public mind with the pauci et validi or the multi bonique. Derived in part from the practices of the Hellenistic courts and in part from the tradition of personal and political alliances of the Republic, this consilium principis, a sort of “privy council,” was an unofficial arrangement that may have received a formal structure only under Hadrian. Whether they filled offices or remained private citizens, the status of the emperor’s associates as his amici lacked precise definition. But they carried with them the authority of the emperor’s predilection and by conferment of benefits could build up followings of their own. They were expected to be present with the emperor on important state occasions and, in their capacity as comites, to comprise his suite when he traveled. This proximity to the emperor was crucial in maintaining their influence and position, but it could also affect their existimatio by the society at large and taint their image with rumors and sneers. For his part, the emperor often had no qualms about repudiating his close associates. Not infrequently, the cause lay in personal relations, for instance, jealousy or the involvement of a third party, or in political factors, such as dynastic policy. Epictetus, an inside observer of life at court (he was a slave of Nero’s freedman secretary, Epaphroditus), probably did not exaggerate in his portrayal of the vicissitudes of Caesar’s friend: If he is not invited, he is hurt, and if he is invited, he dines like a slave at a master’s table, all the time careful not to say or do something foolish. And what do you suppose he is afraid of?…As befits so great a man, a friend of Caesar, he is afraid he will lose his head. (4, 1, 48) Indeed, the emperor’s formal “renunciation of friendship” was not merely a sign of displeasure: it could well be read as a death warrant or followed by a treason trial. On several occasions these disgraced amici were either driven to enter into some conspiracy or accused of having done so and perished at their own or the executioner’s hand.

INTRODUCTION xxv

Nevertheless, the residual group of Imperial amici, so far as they survived the changes of the rulers with whom they were affiliated, did provide a certain continuity in the government’s policies. To achieve this, however, required a special talent for dissimulatio, exemplified in the career of the versatile L. Vitellius who, threatened with destruction, ingratiated himself with Caligula by proclaiming him divine (Dio, 59, 28), acted as a principal advisor to Claudius, successfully maintained his influence under both Messallina and Agrippina, and even in old age barely escaped impeachment on the charge of maiestas (Tac. Ann., 12, 42), having in the meantime acquired so formidable a reputation that it contributed to his own son’s rise to the purple. The condition of the Imperial freedmen secretaries was different. They were the only “professionals” in the Roman government, whose duties initially consisted of administering the emperor’s estates—the patrimonium. With time, however, their competence was extended to the public domain—an encroachment that was bitterly resented by the upper classes—and under Claudius they were organized into a set of so-called officia, or chanceries. Fully dependent on the emperor, they identified their own interests with his and experienced little need for dissimulatio. Their supervision of the routine further enhanced the continuity and stability in the government, but individually they risked death at the hands of their own master or his successor—as in the case of such powerful figures of the time as Protogenes (Dio, 60, 4f.), Polybius (ibid., 60, 31, 2), and Narcissus (ibid., 60, 34, 4f.; Tac. Ann., 13, 1)—owing to their prominence at court, the odium they inspired, and their involvement in all sorts of intrigues. Finally, the predicament of the members of the Imperial family presented a paradox not unknown to other autocracies lacking the principle of primogeniture or a smooth machinery of succession. The idea of a dynastic monarchy was never solidly ingrained in the Roman mind, despite Augustus’ utmost efforts to provide for succession within his own family. Roughly a century later Vespasian and, after yet another century, Septimius Severus both still faced the same problem. The carefully prepared accession of Tiberius, however, made a precedent; it impressed itself upon the popular mind and created a focus for hidden passions. In this way kinship with the ruling house—the domus Caesarea—became both a privilege and a liability. By marrying into the Imperial family a man not only greatly enhanced his dignitas, he also acquired certain legitimate aspirations to the principate. In Rome, women possessed the rights of inheritance; in the case of Imperial ladies, this contributed to their husbands’ chances of attaining the purple. In consequence, the emperor closely supervised the matrimonial arrangements of his female relatives and kept a sharp eye on their illicit affairs: not infrequently, he used the charge of adultery as a pretext to destroy a potential rival. The vagaries of Augustus’ dynastic policy resulted in a multiplication of his direct and indirect descendants. All of them had to reckon with the force of existimatio, and so had the emperors, in particular those who experienced a loss of popular favor. A link to the Caesars was increasingly seen as a prerequisite for making a claim to

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power—although in each case much depended on chance and on the attitudes of the praetorians and the provincial armies. Conversely, such a link raised public expectations that a person so connected would or should endeavor to press his claims. Thus Claudius was made to accept the emperorship merely on the grounds of his bloodline, despite his obvious reluctance to do so and a widespread belief that he was not fit for the job. It is not surprising, then, that the emperors, motivated by fear and anxiety, embarked upon a relentless war against their own relatives, such as the unfortunate family of the Iunii Silani, almost all of whom had been exterminated by the end of the period. As the final result, with Nero’s suicide the dynasty came to an end. Time and again it happened that the emperor’s relatives were perceived by many as worthier candidates for the throne, and their position could seem enviable to an ambitious outsider—hence the periodical emergence of imposters. Not once, however, in the course of the first century did a member of the dynasty claim a share of power or instigate a revolt during the emperor’s lifetime. In contrast, Germanicus Caesar dramatically rejected an offer to overthrow Tiberius made by the rebellious army (Tac. Ann., 1, 35). Contrary to the frequent official charges, there is no tangible evidence that the Imperial relatives were prone to subversion—with the sole exception of M.Aemilius Lepidus, the husband of the notorius Drusilla, who did conspire against Caligula, his brother-in-law and reputed lover (Suet. Cal., 34; Div. Cl., 9). Rather, falling victim to the ambiguities of their own status, they normally proceeded with a genuine eff ort to appear inconspicuous in the hope of survival and, if this was of no avail, did not resist the order to die. This pattern of behavior suggests an extraordinary growth of tension within the circle of people at the very top of the societal pyramid. Theirs was an existence fraught with suspense and fear that, more often than not, prevailed over any ambition, while the long years of dissimulatio made it perforce a corrosive habit gradually depriving them of vigor, energy, and, in some cases, even the will to live. Even the conduct of the emperors exhibited the effects of dissimulatio. This gives us a clue, for instance, to the enigma of Tiberius’ character as portrayed by Tacitus (e.g., Ann., 4, 71; 6, 49). Furthermore, some of the Julio-Claudian emperors betrayed marks of despondency and discomfort characteristic of the dissident mind, signaling their awareness of the disparity between a wishful vision of their role in society and the requirements of their office. Tiberius’ withdrawal from Rome to Capri, Claudius’ scholarly eccentricities, Nero’s artistic and sexual pursuits—all can be interpreted as escapist responses to frustration caused by a failure of political and psychological adjustment. This book is not about Nero. It concerns him only so far as his lifestyle and his style of government affected the dissidents by embarrassing them, antagonizing them, or drawing them into trouble. It suffices to say that both his private and public activities seem most of the time to have been intentionally aimed at mockery and subversion of the mos maiorum, the traditional set of values. Even apart from the moral flaws in his character (not least a streak of sadistic humor), he conceived of himself primarily as an artist, not a statesman, which is greatly responsible for his willful divorce from reality

INTRODUCTION xxvii

leading to the phantasmagoria of his last years and the inglorious collapse at the end. This performance, rooted in reckless and ruthless individualism, was alien to the basics of the Roman way of life as well as highly offensive—and not merely in the view of the prudish senatorial conservatives. Nero’s public image stripped the dignity from the Imperial office, something that must have been particularly objectionable to the municipal and provincial gentry, as was shown by the success of the propaganda war launched against him by the instigators of the revolt of AD 68. It seems that only scant exaggeration was needed to make their portrayal of Nero as a debauched and pathetic tyrant fit the pattern of his existimatio at that moment and rally preliminary support for their cause. I consider it idle to seek any conscious strategy in Nero’s policies of persecution or to speculate on his reasons and timing in each individual case. He was no more consistent in harassment than his foes were in defiance, and he struck at one or another when it was convenient or suited his mood or on the advice of some noxious sycophant. Much credit has been given to Nero in recent years on account of his patronage of arts and letters. It is true that his enthusiasm and personal taste played a major role in the revival of architecture and in the flourishing of Silver Latin poetry and prose. This said, one should not overlook the fact that three of the most prominent literary figures of the time—Seneca, Lucan, and Petronius—not only suffered from his jealousy of their talent, but also perished, at least in part, because of it. In this context one modern illusion about Nero must be dispelled—namely, a belief based on a remark by Suetonius (Nero, 39) that he was indifferent to criticism, ridicule, and similar forms of personal offense. Suetonius is known for often generalizing on insufficient grounds. In fact, an episode that he uses to support his claim speaks against it: a Cynic philosopher and an actor who taunted Nero in public were banished. In the course of this study I will have an opportunity to list all the occasions on which Nero was hurt by a comment, a joke, or a scurrilous verse. As a professed actor, prideful of his dissimulatio, he was capable of concealing the grudge for a time, but eventually descended with vengeance upon the offender. As a means of coping with the ambiguities created by the gap between attitudes and behavior, dissimulatio was intimately related to what can be described as a “rhetoricized mentality.” As I use the phrase, rhetoricized mentality means fashioning discourse with an emphasis on manner over matter, form over content. Although the ambivalence of discourse to which it responds is found in any society, the forms and significance that the rhetoricized mentality may take depend on the particular political and cultural environment. In Julio-Claudian Rome it was manifest in a deliberately developed capacity for narrowing the gap between words and deeds by a skilful employment of formal devices affecting both expression in and perception of a text or a speech. It relied on the sophisticated techniques of contemporary rhetoric which formed the basic component in the education of every upper-class Roman. It is this element of deliberation that distinguishes the rhetorical aspect of intellectual and creative procedures from what may be called the non-rhetorical. The one pertains to

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the manner and form of the argument; the other to its substance, common sense, immediate experience, or emotional need. The rhetoricized mentality was a basic cultural condition of Roman Imperial society and, by the time of Nero, exercised a strong hold over the minds and sensibilities of the educated classes, thereby further enhancing relativism and contributing to the collapse of values and the pervasive moral corruption unanimously lamented by ancient writers. In the final analysis, it made possible Caligula’s extravagant performance both as a “god” and as a madman, and facilitated Nero’s version of “artistic tyranny.” By the very definition of his title the princeps was expected to excel. But if manner alone was the matter of importance, it made little difference whether the princeps excelled on the battlefield, in ancestral virtue, or on the stage, in artistic genius. That he possessed this latter, Nero never doubted, virtually to his very last breath. And those in his audience who thought otherwise had to keep their reservations to themselves. The rhetoricized mentality of Neronian society is the topic of my separate study, now in preparation, where it is examined at length and illustrated in the texts of Seneca, Lucan, Persius, and Petronius. The essential contradictions in the behavior of the dissidents were reflected in their discourse, providing scope for a complex interplay of intention and interpretation in the literature they produced. In the creative process, the tension between dominating rhetorical precepts, transformed into mental habits, and archetypical patterns of non-rhetorical response was made palpable, and recognition of it is crucial for an accurate view of their work and its impact on their audience. The Romans themselves devised a proper terminology to designate the effects of this predicament. This is subtly illustrated by Tacitus in the opening scenes of his Dialogus de Oratoribus where the protagonist Maternus is engaged on his work-in-progress, entitled Cato and written with the clear purpose of criticizing the regime. He is aware that even the recitation of his play has “offended the minds of the powerful” (Tac., chapter 2), but he does not show any sign of repentance and rejects the advice of a friend to make proper adjustments before publication, so that his work may not run the risk of “prejudiced interpretation” (interpretatio prava), alleging a politically subversive authorial design (ibid., chapter 5). Two levels of mental operation were clearly at work: one rhetorical, for Maternus was exploiting a historical exemplum, far removed in time from contemporary reality, and elaborating on the perennial and existential theme of freedom versus tyranny; the other non-rhetorical, for his immediate intent was to condemn the tyrannical practices of his own day. By the same principle, a reading of Maternus’ Cato could emphasize either the rhetorical level, an emulative treatment of a familiar moral and philosophical problem, or the non-rhetorical, its immediate relevance to the political status quo. Political preference and personal feelings, such as sympathy or antipathy, determined a reader’s eventual reaction, positive or negative. A dissident reader, resentful of the authorities and friendly to the author, would have felt delight, while a censorius reader, hostile to the author and supportive of the government, would have been

INTRODUCTION xxix

outraged. The phrase interpretatio prava, used by Maternus’ friend, denotes the activity of a prejudiced mind faced with what in a modern totalitarian society is known as an “uncontrollable subtext,” a message that admits a spectrum of willful interpretations. The Latin idiom for the stand that Maternus took was animus nocendi, “an intention to do harm.” Dissident sentiments and patterns of thought are best elucidated if texts are examined from the viewpoint of an interplay between animus nocendi and interpretatio prava. In this light, Maternus and his like represent one extreme of the spectrum: he makes no secret of his animus nocendi and is prepared to face the response of the audience, whether friendly or hostile. Ovid should be placed at the opposite pole: every line of his Tristia 2 screams of his innocence, insisting that his work was misread, that is, suffered interpretatio prava by an unspecified evil-minded person, “a very cruel enemy” (ibid., 2, 77) close to the emperor, and that this malicious misreading led to the poet’s disgrace. If Maternus mentally identified himself with his Cato (cf. Dial., 2), Ovid is so overawed by the emperor’s wrath that he cries: “It makes it difficult not to become my own enemy!” (Trist., 2, 83). Thus, the interaction of different facets of historical and cultural experience, such as the crisis in the mos maiorum, the role of existimatio, the practice of dissimulatio, and the mechanisms of the rhetoricized mentality, makes ambivalence and ambiguity key concepts for an inquiry into the ethos of the period and, in particular, into the works of a dissident author. Under the Julio-Claudians censorship functioned in a mode very different from that of modern times. Its main characteristics were arbitrariness and unpredictability. There were no official principles that the government consistently followed. This is unlike the totalitarian nations of our age where, explicitly or implicitly, official guidelines exist as to what can and what cannot be discussed in print. Censorship did not exist as an institution under the principate. This does not, however, mean that there was less chance of literary persecution. We know about book-burnings initiated by Augustus himself (cf. Sen. Rhet. Contr., 10, praef. 6ff.). Yet since there was no official policy to follow, writers were at the mercy of any malevolent “decoder” close enough to the emperor to denounce them. This condition created a peculiar sort of anxiety, and it explains why the same work could be treated differently by different rulers under different circumstances. A pathetic case emerged when interpretatio prava alleged animus nocendi where in fact there was none. Thus, if the emperor was in a nasty mood, a rhetorician could be put to death for a school exercise on tyrannicide—and it did not matter in the slightest that both before and afterward dozens of his colleagues might have safely indulged their talents on the same subject, which was grounded in a respectable tradition. The effects of a conjunction of animus nocendi with interpretatio prava were unpredictable. From this, two important inferences are to be drawn. First, whatever their own purposes and personal or political preferences, the writers—and orators— of the epoch were actually aware of the fact that their discourse could be subjected at any point to “prejudiced interpretation” by a benevolent or malevolent, dissident or censorius, reader. Second, any text or speech could theoretically be charged with an

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“intention to do harm.” A Julio-Claudian public figure had to step cautiously, with an eye to every word issuing from his pen or his mouth, and he had to establish the political and social connections necessary for protecting himself from the emergence of some “cruel enemy” capable of destroying him. But personal connections were a precarious means of safeguard. They depended on a multitude of things, from the sex appeal of one’s wife to a change of government. This is why under such conditions a peculiar sense of suspense was never entirely absent from the mind of an early Imperial intellectual. This book, however, is intended as historical inquiry, and it will generally omit consideration of Neronian literature. Neither do I propose to analyze in any significant detail the complex and somber dissident mind of our main authority on the period— Cornelius Tacitus. Although he spent his early adolescence under Nero and capably evokes the peculiar atmosphere of that rule marked by a mixture of art and terror, the events between it and the date of his writings—including the civil war of AD 68–9, the tyranny of Domitian that enforced years of silent complicity and guilt (cf. Agr., 2, 45), the experiment of “liberalization” started by Nerva and Trajan—influenced his attitudes and his thought, teaching him historical lessons that the members of the earlier Neronian generation were in no position to learn. But it is worth noticing that all three authors to whom he refers as his sources for the Neronian books of the Annales, Cluvius Rufus, Fabius Rusticus, and Pliny the Elder, offer three distinct patterns of dissident behavior in their attempts at selfadjustment, each of them practicing dissimulatio—but each in a different manner and degree. [M.] Cluvius Rufus (cf. Tac. Ann., 13, 20; 14, 2) acted under Nero and afterwards as a bona fide collaborationist: not only did he enjoy a successful career (he was made a suffect consul prior to AD 65), but he played herald at the Neronia and during the Greek tour, announcing the emperor’s performances on stage—conduct considered disgraceful by his senatorial peers. This did not prevent the revolutionary Galba from appointing him governor of Spain in AD 69 (Tac. Hist. 1, 8; cf. 4, 43) where he dutifully and timely declared first for Otho (Plut. Otho, 3; cf. Suet. Otho, 7) and then for Vitellius (Tac. Hist., 1, 8). At the same time, Cluvius Rufus strove for favorable existimatio and managed to maintain respect in dissident quarters. He was on friendly terms with the veteran traditionalist Verginius Rufus (Plin. Epist., 9, 19) and Tacitus makes the Stoic radical Helvidius Priscus commend him because, “wealthy and famous for eloquence,” he imperiled no man under Nero (Tac. Hist., 4, 43). Fabius Rusticus, flatteringly compared by Tacitus with Livy (Agr., 10; cf. Ann., 13, 20; 14, 2), seems an example of the opposite. He belonged to Seneca’s inner circle and, very likely, was present on the fateful occasion when the philosopher received the Imperial order to die. By this very friendship Fabius Rusticus placed himself in danger, but he went unscathed—whether by chance, or by the skill of maneuver he must have demonstrated later as a historian under Domitian (cf. Quint., 10, 1, 104). Finally, Pliny the Elder (cf. Tac. Ann., 13, 20; 15, 53; Hist., 3, 28), upon the completion in AD 58 of his twelve years of military service in Germany, opted for

INTRODUCTION xxxi

secessio—full retirement and withdrawal into scholarly work. During Nero’s later years, when, in the words of his nephew (Plin. Epist., 3, 5), “the slavery of the times made it dangerous to write anything at all independent or inspired,” he was composing a book on questions of grammar and did not re-enter public life until after the downfall of the “artistic tyrant.” It is with these and similar patterns of dissident behavior that this book is primarily concerned. It attempts to discuss the multiple facets of the dissident predicament, such as “dynastic” and hereditary attitudes, temperamental divisions within the Senate, the impact of republicanist imagery and vocabulary, the character of contemporary “reformism,” the dynamics of the opportunist consciousness, and so forth. Themes of ethnic, religious, and cultural dissent among the Christians, the Jews, and the Greeks (which will constitute the subject of a separate study) will receive here only cursory treatment as a contrast with the patterns of politically-oriented dissident conduct found within the confines of the Roman upper class.

xxxii

1 THE YEARS OF EXPECTATION

I We start—like Tacitus (Ann., 13, 1)—with the first crime of Nero’s principate—the murder of M.Iunius Silanus, proconsul of Asia. Its background was formed by the exigencies of Nero’s accession. Claudius died, according to the official record, on October 13, AD 54 at the age of sixty-three years, having ruled thirteen years, eight months, and twenty days (Tac. Ann., 12, 67f.; Suet. Div. Cl., 45; Dio, 60, 34, 3; Jos. Ant. Jud., 148). The precise cause of his death is uncertain, though all our sources mention persistent rumors that the emperor was poisoned by his redoubtable fourth wife, Agrippina (cf. Plin. NH, 2, 92; Oct. Praet., 164f.). She felt herself increasingly in danger due to the change in her husband’s attitude to her and because a rival court faction supported the claims of the thirteen-year-old Britannicus, Claudius’ natural son by his previous wife, the disgraced and executed Messallina, as against those of the seventeen-year-old Nero whom the deceased emperor, under pressure, had adopted only four years earlier. Modern scholars tend to dismiss the whole story (Tac. Ann., 12, 66ff.) as fiction, although it may be prudent to abstain from any final judgment. Be that as it may, if Agrippina did not murder Claudius as our authorities insist, she was very fortunate that he died precisely when he did. Agrippina’s predicament resembled that of her great-grandmother Livia, who was accused of having poisoned Augustus in order to clear the way for her son, Tiberius, to assume supreme power (Tac. Ann., 1, 5; Suet. Div. Aug., 98; Tib., 21; Dio, 56, 30, 1–2; 31, 1). The charge against Livia was false, but it does not necessarily follow that Agrippina was equally innocent. The parallelism here reflects one major weakness of the principate as established by Augustus—its failure to provide a machinery of succession. In both cases the heir apparent had to consider a potential rival or rivals who also belonged to the Imperial family. Tiberius’ first act was to kill Augustus’ exiled grandson, Agrippa Postumus, a political rival even though in disgrace (Tac. Ann., 1, 5; Suet. Tib., 22; Dio, 56, 30, 1). Our authorities suggest that Claudius, shortly before his death, appeared to be changing his mind in regard to his successor. He showed distrust of Agrippina (Tac. Ann., 12, 64; Suet. Div. Cl., 43; Dio, 60, 34, 3) and affection for his natural son, the thirteen-year-old Britannicus (Suet., loc. cit.;

2 POLITICAL DISSIDENCE UNDER NERO

Dio, loc. cit.). But Livia had had much firmer control over the situation, and support for Agrippa Postumus was insubstantial. Agrippina’s position was weaker. She was much helped by the forced suicide, after his master’s death (Tac. Ann., 13, 1; Dio, 61, 4; cf. Sen. Apoc., 13), of the cunning and powerful freedman Narcissus, Claudius’ secretary ab epistulis, a strong supporter of Britannicus (cf. esp., Tac. Ann., 12, 65). There was, however, the matter of the will which Claudius officially certified before his death (Suet. Div. Cl., 44) and which could have contained provisions advantageous to Britannicus. Thus, for instance, he could have placed in his will, in imitation of the policies of both Augustus and Tiberius, an injunction that Nero should adopt Britannicus. In a similar situation Caligula officially contested Tiberius’ will favoring the young Tiberius Gemellus on the grounds that the testator, owing to his senility, was of unsound mind (Dio, 59, 1, 1). This was not possible in the case of the recently deified Claudius—so his will was simply suppressed by Agrippina (Tac. Ann., 12, 69; Dio, 61, 1, 2). There remained, however, M.Iunius Silanus, a man not to be ignored. He had been consul ordinarius in AD 46 per annum integrum—for the entire year (cf. Plin. NH, 7, 58), a rare honor, and he belonged to a family of Imperial victims and therefore had every reason for odium paternum in principes—hereditary hatred of the ruling dynasty and the Imperial regime. It is no accident that Tacitus begins his account of Nero’s reign with a pointed parallel to the murder of Agrippa Postumus: “The first death under the new principate, that of [M.] Junius Silanus, proconsul of Asia, was contrived without Nero’s knowledge, by treachery on the part of Agrippina” (Ann., 13, 1; cf. Dio, 61, 6, 4f.). Then follows the story of the man’s poisoning—“too openly to avoid detection” (Ann., loc. cit.)—through the agency of the equestrian Publius Celer and the freedman Helius, who were in charge of the Imperial revenues in Asia. The parallel with Agrippa Postumus is completed by the fact that this Marcus Silanus was the son of a great-grandchild of Augustus—like Nero himself. In fact, he is a perfect example of what may be called a “dynastic dissident”—a person endangered by the mere fact of his kinship with the Imperial family. It was not enough for Agrippina to destroy Claudius’ will to avoid complications with Britannicus. She also had to get rid of all potential pretenders, among whom Marcus Silanus seemed at the moment the most threatening. Tacitus’ discussion of this murder makes it clear that Agrippina’s motives were mixed: It was not that he provoked his doom by violence of temper, lethargic as he was, and so completely disdained by former despotisms that Gaius Caesar usually styled him “the golden sheep”; but Agrippina, who had procured the death of his brother L.[Iunius] Silanus, feared him as a possible avenger, since it was widely rumored among the multitude that Nero, barely emerged from boyhood, and holding the Empire in consequence of a crime, would have to take second place to a man of settled years, blameless character, and noble

THE YEARS OF EXPECTATION 3

family, and who—a point paid attention to in those days—was a descendent of the Caesars: for Silanus, like Nero, was the son of a great-grandchild of the deified Augustus. Such was the cause of his murder. (Ann., 13, 1) So what we see here is the claim that Agrippina was not afraid of Marcus Silanus as a person. He was quite an inoffensive character—in marked contrast to the violent and turbulent Agrippa Postumus. It seems that that man’s dissimulatio, arising from his need of self-adjustment in view of the multiple tragedies his family suffered at the emperor’s hands, developed into a mental habit deeply affecting his personality and resulting in a paralysis of will. But Agrippina’s real fear—and this undercuts the earlier allegation that she thought him dangerous per se—was of Marcus Silanus’ revenge for the earlier destruction of his brother Lucius, at one time betrothed to Claudius’ daughter Octavia (Tac. Ann., 12, 3ff., 8), now Nero’s wife. This is a curious statement, since it implies that, placed in similar circumstances, even a man entirely harmless and blameless by nature and nurture was expected to act forcefully: in a situation of this kind a man could suddenly face a very narrow choice, on which his social and psychological survival could depend. Here Tacitus seems to argue that Agrippina’s concern with Marcus Silanus’ vengeance was the primary cause of her conduct. This impression is, however, overruled by the development of his argument: many people, he claims, actually preferred Marcus Silanus to Nero, who was immature and criminal—whether de facto or in posse (the latter implication, attributed to popular belief, is of course an anachronism: hardly anyone at this early stage would have talked in public of Claudius’ death as a “crime”). The rhetorical devices of Tacitus’ narrative should not, however, make us underestimate the importance of existimatio, that is, public opinion, and its interest in dynastic matters. In this period a blood link to the Caesars was a prerequisite for being a genuine contender for power. Conversely, a bloodline was sufficient grounds to expect that the person in question would endeavor to press his legitimate claims. Both notions found a precedent in the circumstances of Claudius’ ascent to power: his relation to the Imperial family proved a decisive factor in his favor. Feeling totally unprepared for supreme rule and even reluctant to accept it when it was imposed upon him, he had finally to acceed to praetorian demands. Our authorities imply that before coming to power, and even afterwards, Claudius’ character, due to many years of conscientious dissimulatio, was perceived by contemporaries as no less “lethargic” than that of Marcus Silanus. This accounts for Agrippina’s fears: it was the actual situation and the expectations of others, not the personal qualities of the man in question, that mattered. Even if, in Tacitus’ opinion, Marcus Silanus never contemplated any revolutionary designs, being the unworthy character that he was, the final sentence in the passage quoted above suggests that, in the historian’s view, it was indeed his dynastic status that was the real reason for Marcus Silanus’ murder.

4 POLITICAL DISSIDENCE UNDER NERO

II After a long period of what was a rule of terror, Nero’s accession was heralded enthusiastically as the dawn of the Golden Age, and there is no reason to doubt that much of this enthusiasm was genuine. Here, for instance, Calpurnius Siculus, a domesticated poetaster, in an eclogue apparently written soon after Claudius’ death celebrates the coming universal bliss in the reign of “the youthful prince,” “a very God,” nonetheless allowing himself to allude to the dark experiences of the recent past: Clemency has commanded every vice that wears the disguise of peace to betake itself afar: she has broken every maddened sword-blade. No more shall the funeral procession of a fettered Senate weary the headsman at his task; no more will crowded prison leave a senator here and there for the unhappy curia to count. Peace in her fullness shall come; knowing not the drawn sword, she shall renew once more the reign of Saturn in Latium… No more shall the consul purchase the form of a shadowy dignity or, silenced, receive worthless fasces and meaningless judgement seat. Nay, laws shall be restored; right will come in fullest force; a kinder god will renew the former tradition and look of the Forum and displace the age of oppression. (1, 59–64; 69–73; Loeb translation) Aside from the customary rhetorical adulatio, even in these bad verses the deeper level of marvelous expectations is associated with a Hellenistic image of the ideal young ruler, an image traceable back to Alexander the Great and still further to the young gods of the Greek Pantheon, an image exploited by Pompey and later by Augustus. The eclogue’s emphasis on civic peace, and the rule of law, is of course intentional. It was not the first occasion under the Julio-Claudians when various outward forms and practices of Augustus’ “constitutionalism” were recalled and emphasized. (Here and elsewhere I understand under “constitutionalism” the notion, however loosely defined, of the government based on the equal partnership of the emperor and the Senate.) This was intimately linked with a sort of “legalism,” that is to say, the view of libertas as the rule of law, and contributed to quelling dissident anxiety in a substantial number of the multi bonique, the moralist and conservative members of the Senate, and to easing their accommodation to reality. This accounts for the complex game Tiberius played with the Senate immediately after his accession (cf. Tac. Ann., 1, 7). His repeated gestures of respect and submission to senatorial authority are the more notorious since they were performed in an atmosphere of increasing senatorial adulatio. Even Caligula started his reign with a display of Augustan practices.

THE YEARS OF EXPECTATION 5

“Constitutionalist” sentiments played a significant role in the aftermath of Caligula’s assassination. By that time the principle was formulated that an emperor should receive his power from the Senate, that is, not only be acceptable to that body but in fact be chosen by it. In Flavius Josephus’ account of the senatorial debate on Claudius’ accession emphasis is placed on the legal aspect of libertas, that is, on the supremacy of law: He should yield to the Senate, submitting, as a single individual, to so large a number of men, and allowing the law to provide for the organization of the commonwealth…. If he complied and showed that his former good conduct in avoiding trouble could be trusted to continue, he would obtain honors, which would be voted him by free citizens; for if he did his part in yielding to the law, he would gain plaudits for virtuous conduct whether as subject or as ruler. (Jos. Ant. Jud., 230–1) Claudius responded to such a message with great moderation (cf. ibid., 236) and later pursued a policy of reconciliation (Dio, 60, 2; Suet. Div. Cl., 11). In the beginning of his reign his Augustus-like “constitutionalism” is unmistakable. He displayed every sign of outward respect towards the Senate and the magistrates (Dio, 60, 6; Suet. Div. Cl., 12), and he officially abolished the maiestas charges “not only in the case of writings but in the case of overt acts as well, and punished no one on this ground for offenses committed either before this time or later” (Dio, 60, 3). Like Tiberius, Claudius managed to maintain a façade of decency in his relations with the Senate—as when he consulted it on the subject of his marriage (Tac. Ann., 12, 5f.)—despite the series of persecutions allegedly undertaken by his wives and freedmen. This may, in part, explain his habit of investigating a treason charge and condemning the accused in private after having consulted only his unofficial associates. The delatores apparently flourished, but instead of addressing the Senate, as was done earlier under Tiberius, they denounced their victims before the emperor and his domus—his immediate circle of relatives and associates. This kind of proceeding was a flagrant violation of established practice and in obvious contradiction to Claudius’ own legalistic bent of mind (cf. Dio, 60, 4; Suet. Div. Cl., 14f.). Presumably, in the further development of the contrast between verba and acta, words and deeds, inherent in Augustus’ political arrangement, Claudius preferred to maintain his adopted “constitutionalist” attitude in public but to ignore it ruthlessly when he thought it was expedient to do so. It is no wonder, then, that Seneca and Burrus, who at the beginning constituted Nero’s government, felt it urgent that the young emperor should display his “Augustanism” and make an important “constitutionalist” gesture soon after his accession. The purpose had to be to dissociate himself from the obnoxious practices of the previous reign. This is a major point in Nero’s “coronation address,” composed by Seneca:

6 POLITICAL DISSIDENCE UNDER NERO

He then outlined the character of the coming principate, most emphatically disowning what was most flagrant and most recent as causing hatred: he would refrain from making himself a judge of all cases so that the accusers and the defendants would not be secluded within the walls of one [Imperial] household and harassed by the powerful influence of the few; there would be no venality in his house and no room for ambitious intrigue; the palace and the state would be separated. (Tac. Ann., 13, 4) Then he reaffirmed the division of powers (ibid.) formally announced by Augustus: the consuls were to preside over the jurisdiction of Italy and the public provinces, and he himself would command the Imperial armies. By this time, because of the emperors’ encroachment on the Senate’s sphere of competence and their clever manipulation of rank-and-file candidates to fill various magistracies, that principle had already lost any actual significance. But the psychological need had to be gratified: Nero’s message was, accordingly, that he promised to respect “the liberty of the Senate” (libertas Senatus) and “the honor of the fathers” (honos patrum). These promises indeed encompassed the concessions initially made to “constitutionalist” sentiments while in fact only a few resolutions of relative importance were promulgated by the free decision of the Senate. This had an effect: Tacitus attributes to public opinion a direct comparison of Nero with Augustus (Ann., 13, 5). Predictably, increasing adulatio followed the government’s measures in regard to disturbances in the East (ibid., 8), but the multi bonique were also genuinely pleased by the appointment of Gn. Domitius Corbulo, a popular and able general with a reputation for virtue, to command the war in Armenia (ibid.). And Nero seems to have continued to perform in this commendable manner till the very end of the year. Moreover, on New Year’s Day, AD 55, as the magistrates swore allegiance to the enactments of the preceding principes, he withheld his colleague L.Antistius Vetus from swearing to his own. Although this was merely an act of common sense, since during the two and a half months of his rule he had hardly managed to enact very much, the Senate rejoiced in the hope that “his youthful spirit, elated by the glory of lesser deeds, would proceed forthwith to the greater” (ibid., 11). Among other things, he rejected effigies voted to him in gold and silver, as well as a senatorial proposal to begin the calendar year in December, the month of Nero’s birth (ibid., 10). In the best tradition of “Augustan” pietas he requested from the curia a statue for his father, Cn. Domitius Ahenobarbus, and consular decorations for his guardian, Asconius Labeo (ibid.), in addition to a spectacular deification of his immediate Imperial predecessor. It was, however, with regard to this last act that the characteristic ambiguity of the Imperial system became palpable. Seneca composed a laudatory oration of the deceased, and when Nero delivered it in person, praising Claudius’ foresight and sagacity, the audience reportedly laughed (Tac. Ann., 13, 3). Seneca himself contributed an antidote by writing (probably at the time of the Saturnalia celebration) his mordant satire on Claudius, the Apocolocyntosis. Given the youth of the emperor (who

THE YEARS OF EXPECTATION 7

must have been one of the intended readers), that was hardly an appropriate pedagogical exercise in Augustan pietas. It is not surprising that eventually his pupil learned to despise philosophers and to humiliate many of them mockingly in public (Tac. Ann., 14, 16). At the same time, the philosopher continued to compose a series of speeches for his Imperial pupil with an emphasis on clemency—“either as a testimony to the uprightness of his teaching or as advertisement of his own ingenuity,” as Tacitus sarcastically suggests (ibid., 11). It was also when De Clementia must have been conceived. The “great expectations” and the promise of a benign rule were, however, very soon undermined by dramatic happenings in the Imperial family. It began as a power struggle between, on one side, Agrippina supported by (M. Antonius) Pallas, the arrogant freedman secretary a rationibus and allegedly her lover (Dio, 61, 3, 2), and Burrus and Seneca on the other, who correctly saw in her a public calamity. To avert her suspicion, in addition to an appointment to preside over the newly created cult of the Divus Claudius she was voted a pair of lictors by the Senate (Ann., 13, 2), a singular honor for a woman. At the same time, Agrippina was gradually excluded from real participation in the decision-making process by various subtle and not-so-subtle means. A crisis was precipitated by Nero’s infatuation with a freedwoman named Claudia Acte—who would prove herself his faithful companion till the very end. Agrippina responded with fierce outrage but succeeded only in enflaming his passion. Defying her authority, Nero took into his confidence two dissipated youths, the future emperor M.Salvius Otho, from a consular family, and Claudius Senecio, a son of the Imperial freedman, and finally even turned to Seneca for assistance. The latter, following the ambivalent logic of court intrigue, encouraged the affair and recruited his own young friend and relative Annaeus Serenus to pretend that this amorous adventure was in fact his own and not the emperor’s. Agrippina must have realized at some point that she was being outmaneuvered and abruptly reversed her attitude, off ering the couple her personal protection. But it was too late and of little avail. Nero now dismissed the fabulously rich Pallas, Agrippina’s chief supporter. The freedman was removed quietly without public disturbance. Moreover, despite common belief that the source of his wealth had been many years of corrupt administration, it was stipulated that no retrospective inquiry into his past activities be made, and that his accounts with the state, whether true or false, were to be considered as balanced (Tac. Ann., 13, 14). All this suggests that Agrippina still enjoyed substantial influence, though Pallas’ fall prompted her to play the “Britannicus card.” For the new regime Britannicus constituted a problem from the very outset, since the suppression of Claudius’ will tainted Nero’s accession with an air of illegitimacy. Despite all the measures taken by Agrippina, including a handsome donative to the military (Dio, 61, 3), Tacitus reports that, according to some, at the very moment of Nero’s solemn proclamation, a few soldiers hesitated, looked around, and asked where Britannicus was (Ann., 12, 69). But having received no guidance, they acquiesced.

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Thus effectively circumvented, Britannicus, for a while at least, presented little or no threat to the government. Narcissus, his staunch supporter, was dead, but less influential sympathizers survived. Tacitus mentions one Iulius Densus, an equestrian who was formally accused (on the basis of the treason law?) of favoring Britannicus (Tac. Ann., 13, 10). The man was acquitted without even going to trial (which could signify the government’s reluctance to bring renewed public attention to Claudius’ son by official prosecution). Of Britannicus’ immediate companions we hear, curiously, only of the future emperor—the teenage Titus, whom his crafty father, Vespasian, managed to place in the court during Claudius’ lifetime (Suet. Div. Titus, 2) (see p. 192). Even though their friendship seems to have been genuine, it was hardly sufficient to alleviate the sense of misery Britannicus must have felt in the last months of his life (cf. Tac. Ann., 12, 26; 41). A clear-cut case of a dynastic dissident, he behaved with a characteristic mixture of daring and trembling. A few reported incidents may throw light on the youngster’s troubled soul and mood in these last months of his life. Britannicus was brought up in a ruthless environment of political and court intrigue. For a while he regarded himself (and was regarded) as the only heir to the throne. The execution of his mother and Claudius’ marriage to Agrippina must have deeply traumatized his senses, and subsequent events even more so. He apparently saw Nero as an intruder, and once called him Domitius instead of Nero (Tac. Ann., 12, 42)—thus demonstrating pointedly that he did not acknowledge the legitimacy of his adoption, which was irregular in procedure. In addition, if rumors are to be believed, he was sexually abused by Nero (ibid., 13, 17; cf. Dio apud Ioann. Antioch., fr. 90). One can imagine the amount of dissimulatio the boy had to master to avoid betraying himself. But when Nero made an attempt to humiliate him publicly during the Saturnalia festivities, Britannicus managed to turn the event to his own advantage: When ordered [by Nero] to stand up, advance into the center and start singing something—this, in the hope of provoking laughter at the expense of the boy, with little experience of sober companies, much less drunken ones, Britannicus resolutely proceeded with a poem alluding to his exclusion from his father’s household and from supreme power. This led to sympathy for him, the more manifest since night and revelry had stripped it of dissimulation. (Tac. Ann., 13, 15) (One must observe the context in which the word dissimulatio is here used as indicating the recognized mechanism of psychological self-defense against political peril.) Britannicus’ gesture of defiance may have been a clever, though desperate, move, but owing to the characters involved, it was counter-productive. It coincided with a campaign of blackmail initiated by Agrippina in her vain attempt to regain control over her son, threatening him with giving her support to Claudius’ legitimate heir (ibid., 14). Of course, she could not have meant it seriously—for her, this was merely another stage in her struggle for Nero’s soul. The consequences of her

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outburst are known: Britannicus’ murder by poison, in the course of an Imperial dinner (ibid., 15f.; cf. Suet. Nero, 33; Dio, 61, 7, 1ff.), was perpetrated by the young man to whom Seneca, at about this very time, was dedicating the De Clementia. It bore Nero’s unmistakable mark of dexterity combined with clumsiness. One can hardly doubt that the boy was doomed in any case, even if Agrippina had not provoked in Nero fears that led to the murder. Earlier episodes—the cases of Agrippa Postumus and of Tiberius Gemellus—must have shown, both to the inexperienced emperor and to his well-wishing advisors, what the stakes were. Britannicus’ mere existence was both the reason and the justification for his destruction. What should fascinate us is Tacitus’ report of public response to Britannicus’ murder. Describing the violent storms after the murder which were interpreted as bad omens, Tacitus remarks that it was a crime “many were even disposed to condone, bearing in mind the ancient examples of fraternal discord and that sole power cannot be shared by two” (Ann., 13, 17). It appears, then, that the fear of “fraternal discord” was real, though there were virtually no recent examples. Perhaps the memories of Tiberius’ rivalry with Germanicus’ family still haunted the popular mind. Old stories, like that of Seneca’s Thyestes, could be perceived as topical in these circumstances, and Rome itself was founded by a fratricide. Many, then, must have possessed their own ideas of political expediency and, allowing an unspoken presumption of the means being justified by the end, tended to exculpate the crime. III The great expectations for the new government pertained partly to the fact that Nero was known to be guided in his policies by Seneca and Burrus. Tacitus points out and commends the uniqueness of their cooperation and the differences in their personal style of conducting business: Both guardians of the Imperial youth, and—a rare occurrence when power is shared—in agreement with each other, exercised equal influence working toward the same goal by different methods; Burrus through his attention to military matters and the severity of his morals, Seneca through his instruction in eloquence, and the honest graciousness of his character. (Ann., 13, 2; cf. ibid., 6) It seems that Seneca, by virtue of his formidable gifts and his intimacy with Nero, was a guiding spirit in this partnership—although he held no office, but only a position as “Imperial friend,” amicus principis. Born around AD 4 into the equestrian family of an eminent rhetorician from Spain (Tac. Ann., 14, 53; Sen. Rhet. Contr., Praef. libr. 1–4, 7, 9, 10), the philosopher L.Annaeus Seneca was taken to Rome at an early age (Sen. Ad Helv., 19, 4ff.) where he eventually proceeded to an enthusiastic study of Stoic philosophy. He started his public career relatively late. Under Caligula he was

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admitted to the inner circles of the Palatine, something that required considerable skill in dissimulatio. He ran into some serious danger, either because of his association with the group of the seianiani at that moment when the emperor turned against them, or because Caligula felt jealous of his oratorical talents. An anecdote preserved by Dio suggests that he escaped death only after the intervention on his behalf of an unspecified “female associate” who persuaded the despot “that Seneca had consumption in an advanced stage and would die before a great while” (59, 19, 17). It was at that early stage of his activities that he could well have been regarded as an unscrupulous careerist of the pauci et validi stamp by his respectable peers. This may explain the furor in the Senate at his trial in AD 41, shortly after Claudius’ accession, when he was accused of adultery with Caligula’s sister Iulia Livilla—most likely at the instigation of Messallina, who hated her (Dio, 60, 8, 5; cf. 61, 10, 1). The senatorial court sought Seneca’s death, but this was prevented by the personal intervention of Claudius, who spoke on his behalf (Ad Pol., 13, 3), and he was banished to Corsica. He spent eight long years in exile, during which he wrote two rhetorical consolations, Ad Hel viam and Ad Polybium, and was recalled by Agrippina to the capital in AD 49 to supervise the young Nero’s education: She thought this would please the public on account of his fame and learning; this would provide for Domitius [Nero], coming from boyhood to adolescence, so distinguished a teacher, as well as enable him to profit from his advice in regard to their hopes for supreme power—Seneca was believed loyal to Agrippina as his benefactress and hostile to Claudius through resentment at his injury. (Tac. Ann., 12, 8) Now, when he finally arrived at a position of real power, it must be considered whether this philosopher and statesman, “superior in wisdom to all the Romans of his day” (Dio, 59, 19, 17), took steps to influence the status quo in order to make it better conform to his genuine (or professed) beliefs. There exists a broadly accepted view that Seneca was a reform-minded statesman and that this was responsible for the success of what is commonly referred to as quinquennium aureum, the beginning “five golden years” of Nero’s rule. But if we examine the actual performance of the SenecaBurrus government, we realize that nothing much really happened in the course of their tenure to justify a theory of reform. If it had not been Seneca who was regarded as the governing force, those first five years under Nero would be hardly more praised by posterity than the first five years of Claudius’ reign. The mere fact that the famous philosopher was running the state gave to the period an unprecedented glamor in the eyes of historians. Also, Seneca’s circle was busy after his death producing the image of that period as a “golden age,” omitting inconvenient facts and relying a great deal on their master’s own wishful thinking in the De Clementia. And it is true that in comparison with the excesses of the later part of Claudius’ reign or the Neronian terror of the 60s, the quinquennium could appear to later generations as the age, if not

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of a Pericles, at least of an Augustus. The more so since the arts flourished and the young emperor himself was their enthusiastic patron. But the picture of universal prosperity under the rule of a philosopher, a soldier, and a king does not survive close scrutiny. Britannicus was mercilessly murdered, and neither philosopher nor soldier uttered a word. Agrippina was disgraced through very unphilosophic means. Pallas was removed from his position of authority, but in no way punished, and we do not even hear that the adulatory senatorial decree on his behalf (cf. Tac. Ann., 12, 53) was ever repealed. Moreover, from Tacitus’ account it appears that Nero was a principal actor in both the latter episodes. Whether Seneca was implicated in the Britannicus affair and what his reaction was, are unknown. Judging by his behavior after Agrippina’s assassination, it is hardly probable that he lectured his pupil on that occasion on the virtues of clemency and benevolence. Nero was not stupid, and the compliance of his mentors with his first crime must have taught him more about moral values than any solemn sermon. It was at this point that he might have begun to feel that cruel irony toward his teacher which is implicit in their dialogue on Seneca’s futile attempt at retirement (Tac. Ann., 14, 53–6). Little else of importance actually happened during the quinquennium. We have, however, a few indications that in his policies Seneca entertained something that may be called a “negative program”—that is, what should not be done. Personally, he had little reason to care much for “senatorial dignity” or “the honor of the Fathers.” His main circle of acquaintances and close friends belonged to the equestrian order. He must have possessed a serious grudge against the Claudian Senate, given the treatment he received at the senators’ hands during his earlier adultery trial. As a statesman, however, he had to take into account public expectations. Hence the “constitutionalist” phraseology of the pronouncements he had Nero perform, which amounted, as we have seen, to the new regime’s dissociation from the obnoxious practices of his predecessor. Seneca must have proceeded the more readily since he did not feel loyal to Claudius’ memory. The depth of Seneca’s dissimulatio is revealed in a comparison between the inflated adulation of Claudius in the Ad Polybium (esp. 6–13) and the satirical treatment of him in the Apocolocyntosis. Elsewhere, I have advanced the view that Seneca, concerned with his public image and with making a favorable impression upon his readers, deliberately intended the latter piece to minimize the sycophantic implications of the former. Although it seems likely that from the very beginning he saw Agrippina as a future opponent and a defender of her husband’s political style, Seneca yielded to pragmatic demands. Here, however, his hypocritical role in Claudius’ apotheosis necessitated a literary outlet in the form of a malicious satire on the dead man. Nero’s “coronation address” was, on the surface, faithful to the principle of diarchy, although in fact that idea remained the same ingenious fiction as devised by Augustus. But something more substantial than a mere gesture was needed, and nothing more was actually forthcoming. In sum, the government professed a spirit of reforms without reform, even though its phraseology could be construed as a manifestation of good will. In fact, it was this “constitutionalist” phraseology,

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including Nero’s original promises in regard to the Senate’s prerogatives, that later gave Thrasea Paetus a pretext to launch his campaign to re-establish “senatorial dignity” and observance of the “honor of the fathers.” In other words, as Tacitus observed on one occasion, “a certain semblance of the [pre-Augustan] res publica [i.e., free state] remained nonetheless” (Ann., 13, 28)—a bitter comment, followed by the story of a petty senatorial squabble over an issue that had lost all meaning long before. If no serious reforms were contemplated, what, then, was Seneca’s goal? The power of the ruler of the world was overwhelming wherever it was directed. Tacitus put his finger on the essence of the matter when, in his assessment of their government at this initial stage and their relationship with Nero, he suggests that the main purpose of Seneca and Burrus was “to restrain better the princeps’ wayward youth—in the event he spurned the path of virtue—giving it a sort of pleasure that was permissible” (Ann., 13, 2). The formula well accounts, for instance, for Seneca’s role as procurer in Nero’s love affair with Acte. The problem was to distinguish clearly between indulgences permissible and those not, and this is precisely what Burrus and Seneca ultimately failed to do. Moralism is indeed prominent in Seneca’s outlook. He conceived himself primarily as a philosopher, not as a politician. It was in his capacity as teacher of practical sapientia that he first became associated with Nero. The Hellenistic origin of Stoicism gave it its monarchic slant and, in the Roman version, its eclectic adaptability; the Stoa in this respect proved ambivalent and easily transformed into an instrument of Imperial propaganda. The prominence of the Stoic moralist at court was not, therefore, necessarily objectionable. Still, by the time Nero became emperor Seneca had known him intimately for five years. His entire career, and especially his remarkable cooperation with Burrus, prove that he was an excellent judge of character. During these five years of teacher-pupil intimacy he must have recognized the true nature of Agrippina’s son and how decisive was her earlier influence on him. The fact that he almost immediately engaged in a desperate struggle with her suggests that he was aware of the danger she posed. Britannicus’ murder dealt a minatory blow: from that moment on Seneca’s habit of dissimulatio dominated all aspects of his relations with his pupil, and any moralizing or philosophizing with regard to Nero was meaningless. All of this prevented the only reform Seneca could have attempted—that is, the educational and moral reform of Nero himself. If successful, it could have led to beneficial changes: the nation would have been governed by a rex iustus, a “just king,” instead of a tyrant. This is indeed the implicit message, as seen by many, of the De Clementia, and, if so, it was therefore also an experiment in self-persuasion. But there is no ground for a belief that in any practical sense Seneca attempted to reform Nero after he became emperor. Rather, the evidence suggests a very relaxed attitude on Seneca’s part toward Nero’s conduct. Dio’s source goes even so far as to insist that the philosopher corrupted his pupil sexually (Dio, 61, 10, 4) Another motive was Seneca’s desire to justify, with a view to existimatio, his extraconstitutional status as amicus principis. If he had argued for the principate in its

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Augustan formulation and exhorted Nero to rely only on his “authority,” auctoritas, and not on his power, potentia, Seneca’s own operations as a virtual regent would have lost their ground. The princeps, however young, would be expected to seek and find his legitimate partners in the Senate and the magistrates, and the Stoic philosopher, scarcely superior to a private citizen (formally a mere ex-praetor), would be out of the picture. Technically an unofficial amicus, Seneca, together with Burrus, was the “government,” and this single fact, without parallel or precedent, subverted the remnants of Augustan make-believe. But once the Hellenizing idea of an enlightened though absolute monarchy is argued, everything changes drastically in Seneca’s favor. As a sophos advising the young basileus, a sapiens directing the conscience of the rex iustus, he is placed within a philosophical tradition started by Plato himself. It was an ingenious way to address the senatorial milieu in the hope of acquiring admirers among those multi bonique who were in sympathy with Stoic philosophical speculations. By his advocacy of pure monarchy, Seneca forced his audience back to reality from the realms of rhetoric and illusion, thereby exposing the hypocrisy of the entire Augustan political arrangement. Himself suffering from the effects of the gap between words and acts, he must have regarded the pervasiveness of that gap on the national scale with particular distaste. Some of Seneca’s apologists contend that the motivation behind the writing of the De Clementia was a desire to prevent the political reprisals that Nero was allegedly ready to launch. But reprisals against whom? Hardly against the associates of the late Claudius while their protector Agrippina was still influential. Tacitus’ statement to the effect that, even with Narcissus gone, much blood would have been shed if Seneca and Burrus had not intervened (Ann., 13, 2) remains unsubstantiated and, most likely, a piece of rhetoric originating in the quinquennium myth. So far as Nero was concerned, there is little evidence of any practical results from Seneca’s sermonizing on clemency. Plautius Lateranus, the future Pisonian conspirator, earlier expelled from the curia on a charge of adultery with Messallina, was reinstated (ibid., 11) (see p. 96). The charges against Sullius Rufus’ son were dropped (ibid., 43) (see p. 28). The punishment of the freedmen of Pedanius Secundus (killed by his slave) was vetoed (ibid., 14, 45) (see p. 54). Some nasty characters among the provincial governors were pardoned on extortion charges (ibid., 13, 31), hardly a humanitarian measure if the interests of the provincials are kept in mind. A swindler who faked a will was spared for the sake of his dignitas (ibid., 14, 40). In sum, not much, and not attributable to Seneca’s influence. If the tutor was still entertaining any illusions about his disciple, he was soon disappointed. His lofty preaching was graciously accepted and largely ignored. Seneca’s monarchial paideia was doomed from the beginning, but the bitter fiasco of his Platonic dream contributed to his own idiosyncratic dissidence which oscillated between confrontation, compromise, and compliance. There are no traceable dissident manifestations in Sex. Afranius Burrus’ mental and emotional make-up or in his conduct during most of his long career in both civic and

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military administration. After the military tribunate, Burrus served as a trusted agent of Livia, who was a shrewd judge of character, and then in the same capacity as procurator under Tiberius and Claudius before his appointment as praetorian prefect. It appears that military service required less dissimulatio than the career of a public official or a courtier. It often kept one away from the capital, the seat of intrigue and turbulence, for stretched periods of time; it also alleviated one’s moral qualms by the force of one’s oath of allegiance to the ruler. On the other hand, if their disappointment with the emperor was full and complete, the military never hesitated to act. It is not surprising, furthermore, that as an equestrian officer and, for most of his life, a “domanial” overseer engaged in the administration of the Imperial estates, Burrus chose to accept the status quo even if by the end he came to regret it. He was a man of obscure provincial origin who greatly benefited from Imperial patronage and evidently felt no need to identify himself with the interests of the Senate. At first sight, he seems to come closer than any of his senatorial contemporaries to the model so crucial to Tacitus’ political vision—a loyalist and a civil servant standing at the same time aloof from the crimes perpetrated by the regime. Our authorities are unanimous in their praise of Burrus’ character. Tacitus celebrates his “excellent reputation,” his “stern morality,” the memory of his virtue (Ann., 12, 42; 13, 2; 14, 51). Dio approves of his wisdom (61, 3) and his courage (62, 13). This all seems to suggest a military man brought up in the tradition of the mos maiorum—the Domitius Corbulo type. At the same time, there is no evidence that Burrus was ever accused by his contemporaries of discrepancy between his professed principles and his conduct, a frequent charge against Seneca (e.g., Dio, 61, 10, 1ff.; Tac. Ann., 13, 18, 42). This latter also compliments his colleague—something he rarely does in regard to living Roman contemporaries—in the De Clementia. Seneca’s compliment has a suggestive overtone: “Burrus your prefect is a person of great distinction born to serve you in your Principate” (2, 1). The description cleverly implies a conflict between two attributes—the inner quality of moral distinction and the outer definition of fitting into the Imperial service. This was the very dilemma that constantly bothered Tacitus and was never resolved to his satisfaction: how does one preserve one’s moral integrity and benefit the commonwealth in the course of a successful public career under a government that is unjust and evil? Seneca’s concern in his writings with that issue was no less obsessive, though it was kept on a theoretical level, that of a debate over the relative values of action and contemplation which often amounted to the question whether the “wise man,” the sapiens, should participate in public life. However, his treatment of the theme was inconsistent. Even though less conspicuously—he was neither a senator nor a philosopher—the same quandary also intervened in Burrus’ conduct. He eventually came to the realization that it was insoluble, and probably it was this that was ultimately responsible for his own reluctant journey toward dissidence. Burrus’ political views scarcely differed from those of Seneca. In fact, there is no evidence that the two disagreed on a single issue. It can be argued that, although in contrast to Seneca he occupied the major office of praetorian prefect, in psychological

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terms he played the junior partner in their relationship, dominated by the spell of the other’s intellectual brilliance. Together, they attempted to exercise for a short while (and with little result) some occasional pressure on Nero for personal improvement, not for any governmental action or reform. As in the case of Seneca, for whom it meant the demise of his Platonic dream, the ruthless removal of Britannicus signaled a crisis for Burrus, confronting him with an increasingly urgent need for dissimulatio. But if in Seneca’s vision of the rex iustus the idea of moral excellence had paramount importance for philosophical reasons, Burrus’ commitment to traditional morality made him confront an unbearable dilemma. There was, on the one hand, his loyalty, fides, which demanded perennial devotion to the ruling house and allegiance to the ruling dynasty. On the other hand, from the viewpoint of the ancestral pietas, no fratricide could be condoned even on the grounds of expediency. And both partners had to realize that they were more than observers or even accomplices: the emperor was too young, Agrippina apparently took no part in the crime, and it was the two “ministers” who were, de facto, ruling the country. Thus, the criminal’s habitual self-defense—“I was obeying, or complying with, superior orders”—was of no avail. The echo of a tradition that the Burrus-Seneca government suffered an early “nervous breakdown” is preserved in Dio’s source: “After the death of Britannicus, Seneca and Burrus no longer gave any careful attention to public business, but were satisfied if they might manage it with moderation and still preserve their lives” (61, 7, 5). This may well be correct. Though Tacitus never admits as much explicitly, his own account leads to the same conclusion. After Britannicus’ murder their moral defenses weakened, and both ministers were involved in intrigue after intrigue. What started with their encouragement of Nero’s adultery with Acte ended in the destruction of Agrippina. Tacitus comments on Nero’s behavior in the aftermath of Britannicus’ murder: He proceeded now to enhance the status of his most powerful friends with his largess. There was no lack of those who attacked these men who professed austerity and were nonetheless at that time parceling out city homes and country houses among themselves as if they were loot. Others believed that pressure [to accept this] was being brought to bear on them by the Princeps, whose guilty conscience made him hope to acquire pardon by obliging solid and formidable people with largess. (Ann., 13, 18) Burrus and Seneca certainly were among Nero’s “most powerful friends.” A curious discussion in Seneca’s De Beneficiis of the proper attitude a sapiens should take toward a tyrant if he is under personal obligation to him throws some light here. The main point is that beneficia must be returned whatever sort of person the benefactor is, even if he “turned not only into an evil person, but into a savage, into a monster” (De Ben., 7, 19, 5). A variety of fine distinctions is introduced (e.g., whether he is ferocious only in spirit, or also bursts into open violence), but even at the very worst he must still

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be served (ibid., 20), provided that “my beneficium to him will not increase his powers to the detriment of the commonwealth nor will it confirm the powers that he already possesses, but it will be such that I shall return it to him without public danger” (ibid.). There follows a list of what is approved as a service to a tyrant-benefactor (e.g., gifts of stage-players, prostitutes, and pleasure-boats) and what is not (e.g., gifts of triremes and bronze-beaked ships (ibid.)). Seneca owed Nero many beneficia, including his political position and his considerable wealth (cf. Tac. Ann., 13, 42; Dio, 62, 2). One cannot prove this passage specifically relevant to their relationship, but the text contains an apologetic undercurrent skilfully disguised by a rhetorical topos, a device Seneca liked to employ. IV If the word “dissident” is taken (as in this inquiry) in its obvious meaning of disaffection with the regime in power, we must now include Agrippina herself among the gallery of our subjects. Her failure to handle Nero’s infatuation with Acte sensibly, and the rushed attempt to blackmail him that provoked Britannicus’ murder, drove her into the ranks of the discontented. Demoted from participation in government to a nominal status, she continued her dissent up to the night of her assassination. It is interesting to speculate whether Agrippina contemplated revolution, or whether she was broken in spirit and never went beyond raucous criticism. Time was against her: at the moment of Nero’s accession she presided over the powerful camarilla formed during her rivalry with Messallina which won her a large measure of control over the government in the last years of Claudius’ reign. Seneca and Burrus’ offensive forced her to reassemble her supporters, who included not only courtiers such as powerful freedmen but also the military and senators, “as if she was in quest of a leader and a faction” (Ann., 13, 18). Not only does Tacitus insinuate that in cultivating the remaining members of the nobility she was in search of a worthier candidate for supreme power to oppose Nero, but he also implies that, by appropriating money from various sources, she set up an emergency fund (ibid.). Whether all this was or was not her true intent, there must have been a widespread suspicion that Agrippina was contemplating a dangerous game. Nero, at any rate, reacted swiftly: besides ousting Pallas, he also shortly afterward deprived his mother of her personal guard “that served once the wife and now the mother of the emperor” (ibid.). In addition, in order to discredit her audiences and receptions, he banished her from the Imperial palace to a separate residence (ibid.). Later she was banished not only from the palace but from the capital as well, and was forced to content herself with residence in the country (Suet. Nero, 34), so that further communication with her remaining sympathizers at court became very difficult. Although these measures had a certain effect (cf. Tac. Ann., 13, 19), there is evidence that Agrippina still maintained some authority, especially with the military. Even four

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years later, on the night of her assassination, she was thought to have enjoyed the praetorians’ allegiance. In the recent past there had been quite a few precedents for Imperial ladies of the highest status consciously conspiring or being drawn into conspiracy against the ruling emperor. Usually these women were under the spell of passion, but this did not make their activities less dangerous. There was the obscure affair of Iulia, Augustus’ daughter, and her many lovers, among whom was Antonius Iullus, a “dynastic dissident.” There was the love affair of Claudia Livilla, wife of the younger Drusus, and Sejanus, with the latter intent on some sort of coup. And most recently, there had been the bizarre bacchanalia of Messallina who, while the wife of the living emperor, publicly took another husband, Gaius Silius. Each of these occasions created a crisis. As for Agrippina, her personality, combining strong passion with cool calculation, was formidable. But of her alleged revolutionary designs, if she ever had them, only one came to the surface. An ingenious denunciation was contrived by two of her enemies, Iunia Silana and Domitia, one of Nero’s aunts. Iunia Silana, who belonged to a long-suffering family of Imperial victims, had been unfortunate in her matrimonial projects. Messallina had driven her from her husband C.Silius in order to acquire him as a lover (Tac. Ann., 11, 12), which led to his ruin. After becoming Agrippina’s friend, she was treated no better. Agrippina is said to have deterred another noble youth, T.Sextius Africanus, from marrying her (Tac. Ann., 13, 19), for pragmatic, not amorous reasons: to prevent a wealthy and childless woman from passing her estate to a husband. As for Domitia, Nero’s aunt, this resourceful lady had a romantic grievance against Agrippina over the collapse of her marriage with C.Sallustius Passienus Crispus, who divorced her (around AD 41–2) to become Agrippina’s second husband (cf. ibid.). Moreover, this Domitia was a sister of Messallina’s mother, the infamous Domitia Lepida, hunted down by Agrippina early in AD 54 on the ridiculous charge (in addition to those of magic and conspiracy) of threatening the peace of Italy with regiments of slaves (Tac. Ann., 12, 65ff.); and despite his professed affection for the woman who brought him up as a child (ibid., 64; cf. Suet. Nero, 6), Nero contributed to the downfall of this aunt even before his accession to power, by his testimony in Claudius’ court. The intrigue initiated by the two women united Agrippina’s name with that of Rubellius Plautus, who had the same family relation to Augustus as Nero himself. It was claimed that she encouraged him to seize power by a promise of marriage, hoping that she would thereby be able to regain control over the state (Tac. Ann., 13, 19). The accusation quickly reached the emperor’s ears through a cleverly arranged chain of client and freedmen informers. Nero panicked, and instead of enjoying his customary pleasures spent a nasty night which, had it not been for Burrus’ timely intervention, would have seen Agrippina’s fall. One version of the affair even suggests that the frightened Nero wrote an order dismissing Burrus and replacing him as praetorian prefect with C.Caecina Tuscus, but was dissuaded from this by Seneca (loc. cit.). Tacitus’ account is somewhat confused, but that night there must also have been a great confusion on the Palatine, and later

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everyone involved produced his own story of what happened. Agrippina was brought to a secret trial where she pleaded her innocence. Her powerful speech convinced the emperor that it was a false alarm (Tac. Ann., 13, 20–1). The guilty were punished: Iunia Silana was exiled and subsequently died a natural death in Tarentum (ibid., 14, 12); her two client-informers, Iturius and Calvisius, were banished (ibid., 13, 22); and the freedman Atimetus was put to death (ibid.). The emperor’s aunt Domitia is said to have been poisoned in AD 59 by Nero, who coveted her immense fortune, and shortly after he eliminated Agrippina herself. But at the moment under discussion Agrippina proved temporarily successful, so that some of her friends and associates received rewards and promotions, among them L.Faenius Rufus, the future praetorian prefect and Pisonian conspirator, and P.Anteius Rufus, another of Nero’s future prominent victims. Nevertheless Agrippina’s portrait disappeared from the Neronian coinage. It is still, however, worth looking into whether the alarm was entirely false. Tacitus tells us that Iunia Silana, the originator of the intrigue, was formerly a close associate of Agrippina’s (Ann., 13, 19). She must have been thoroughly familiar with the Imperial lady’s temper, mental habits, and predilections. The condition crucial for the success of Iunia Silana’s plan was to make the story and the accusation so credible as to cause the young emperor and his cautious councillors to act swiftly. As we have seen, it worked, but only partially. Nero responded in the expected way, but Burrus and Seneca, despite their enmity for Agrippina, did not swallow the bait. They may have found the charge unsubstantiated or even fanciful. Or seeing no immediate danger, they may have decided to hush the matter up to avoid public scandal. Or they may even have been concerned with the alleged involvement of Rubellius Plautus. Whatever the truth, Agrippina was acquitted, and Tacitus specifically mentions that Rubellius Plautus was left in peace for a while (ibid., 22). We do not hear that he was interrogated or in any way investigated. And it follows from Tacitus’ account that Iunia Silana’s insinuation was carefully phrased to make it unclear whether she claimed that Rubellius Plautus was actually involved in the plot, or just destined by Agrippina for the major role without his knowledge or consent. The latter seems more probable: it would provide relative security to the informers in the event of direct confrontation. Nonetheless, the attempt to tie these particular names in a conspiratorial context is instructive. It shows that the mere fact of Rubellius Plautus’ Imperial lineage was thought sufficient by Iunia Silana and her associates to make people easily believe their allegation. He, like M.Iunius Silanus earlier, was being drawn into dangerous politics by virtue of his status alone. Rubellius Plautus learned his lesson and subsequently tried to avoid the slightest suspicion. As for Agrippina, she did not achieve much in spite of her victory. The best argument against the reality of this conspiracy is its timing. At that stage she had not yet exhausted all the means of arriving at her goal without overthrowing her son. If we follow Tacitus’ chronology, no Poppaea Sabina was yet around, but it seems very likely that by then Nero’s redoubtable mother, losing control over her own dissimulatio, had become so obsessed

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by angry thoughts that she could have said enough to give rise to malicious misinterpretation. Soon after that, according to Tacitus, an even stranger piece of delation came to light. In it Burrus and Pallas (the latter now in retirement and semi-disgrace) joined in a conspiracy with Faustus Cornelius Sulla Felix for the purpose of making him emperor (Ann., 13, 23). The informer, a certain Paetus, was apparently a disreputable character involved in some obscure financial transactions (ibid.). We could ignore this ill-conceived attack, which came to nothing—everyone was acquitted and the informer banished—but for the name and status of the alleged pretender. Faustus Sulla could boast of descent from Augustus’ sister Octavia and Sulla the Dictator. He was married to Claudius’ elder daughter, Antonia: consequently, he was a son-in-law to the late emperor, as was Nero himself. Despite his also having been Messallina’s (step) brother, he apparently managed satisfactory relations with Agrippina, under whom he served as consul integro anno. The whole alliance alleged and denounced by Paetus looks extremely improbable, and one can see why it was not believed. Pallas, Agrippina’s closest associate, was now out of the picture; Burrus at that time must have felt strong anti-Agrippina sentiments; and Faustus Sulla, as far as the evidence goes, does not seem to have had any ties with either faction. One may wonder what Paetus’ motives were for linking the three of them together in this insinuation. We know nothing of his relations with Faustus Sulla. But given Paetus’ trade and his unsavory reputation it may be conjectured that he had a personal grudge against Pallas, who until recently had been the powerful secretary a rationibus. He may also have overestimated Nero’s desire to strike a blow at his mother’s former lover at that time. As for Burrus, the informer may have thought that the prefect’s position was shaken by Iunia Silana’s recent charges. If so, he was badly mistaken. It may be that the government seized the opportunity to stage a trial so that a delator who was bringing an a priori false accusation (cf. loc. cit.) would be punished to set an example. It could also have been intended by Nero as a signal of reassurance toward his associates after the recent debacle caused by Iunia Silana’s insinuations. Burrus, though himself one of the accused, sat during the trial among the judges, apparently as an assessor principis, the advisor to the emperor sitting in judgment (ibid.). The eventful year ended with Nero’s populist gesture of withdrawing the guards from the circus during the games. This measure, very much in the pseudo-reformist spirit of the period, was of little practical consequence (in the event of disturbances the guards could easily be called in from the praetorian camps in the neighborhood), but it publicized “a greater appearance of liberty” (Tac. Ann., 13, 24). The effects of this measure, however, were predictably negative: soon we learn of renewed disturbances in the circus, eventually so grave that the actors had to be banished from Italy and the guards reinstalled. (Three years later, in AD 58, allegedly under the influence of public complaints regarding the extortionist tax-collectors, Nero proposed abolishing all indirect taxation. This bold, however impracticable, populist project that Nero publicized as “the noblest gift to the human race,” was aborted by

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the intervention of his advisors; nonetheless, it led to some welcome results, such as a newly established procedure of appeals so that actions against publicans could take precedence in courts (ibid., 13, 50f.).) The theme of “appearances,” in a political sense, resurfaces in Tacitus’ account of a curious episode in the Senate, dated to the beginning of AD 56. Here the historian’s usage of the term res publica seems bitterly ironic and by no means accidental: “Nonetheless, a certain semblance of the [pre-Augustan] res publica did remain” (Ann., 13, 28). This sentence precedes an account of a petty squabble between two secondrate magistrates, a praetor and a plebeian tribune. The issues seem irrelevant to republicanist sentiments, given the political realities of the time—autocratic rule and universal submission. A troublesome plebeian tribune, Antistius Sosianus, intervened in the action of a praetor, one Vibullius (otherwise unknown). Antistius Sosianus released some loafers who had applauded some actors too enthusiastically and been arrested by Vibullius, supposedly on a charge of public misdemeanor. The Senate supported the praetor and censured the tribune. Under the auspices of the consuldesignate L.Calpurnius Piso (not to be confused with the conspirator, though from the same family), this final senatorial “victory” over the tribunate provoked a series of further curbs upon those ancient champions of the people. The tribunes were not to usurp the authority of praetors and consuls (hardly a crucial problem now), or to summon from any part of Italy persons liable to legal proceedings, or to try any case in their own houses. A complicated procedure was devised to check their imposition of fines: a fine was not to be registered by quastores aerarii until four months had expired, during which appeals were to be examined by the consuls themselves. The incident continued to a climax. Another tribune, the young and vigorous Helvidius Priscus, destined for future renown (see pp. 175ff.), brought a charge against a quaestor aerarii named Obultronius Sabinus (a shady figure later executed by Galba for obscure reasons). Even though Tacitus specifies that Helvidius Priscus was pursuing a private quarrel, the latter’s reputation for uprightness endowed it with the aura of a public stand: an Imperial dissident concerned with upholding the Senate’s dignity, and at the same time a tribune challenging the magistrate in the traditionally populist style, he felt no evident need for consistency, acting out, as he did, all of the old Republic. Tacitus eschews irony at the end of this account. But the whole episode took place under increasingly threatening auspices: Tacitus himself speaks of Nero’s “disgraceful debauchery at home” (Ann., 13, 25). The emperor, certainly displeased, simply abolished the quaestores aerarii and transferred the treasury to his own praefecti, thus for ever depriving the Senate of supervision over one of the very few public offices still left to it. This affair allows a glimpse of the inner, everyday life within the curia’s walls and the minds of its members. We learn that in spite of all their humiliation and servility the senators were, here and there, engaged in passionate activities, even if of a somewhat illusory nature. With hindsight, the illusion is apparent. It need not necessarily have been so for the praetor Vibullius. It was gratifying to assert one’s status by censuring a demagogue in the style of the mos maiorum. And it did not matter

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that there was always an omnipotent Someone who might at any moment censure you. A shift in values and interests is implied here. Now that it was impossible to direct one’s energies into a competition with one’s peers in the government of the state, they concentrated on a petty struggle, with the same peers, but on a far lower level. A solemn decorum, however, was preserved. The story makes manifest how deeply republicanist attitudes were rooted in the senatorial mind, although these attitudes were becoming increasingly incompatible with Imperial reality. The traditional confrontation between the optimates and the populares continued to occupy their imaginations. But under the conditions of the principate, these mere notions had become meaningless. Nonetheless, as Flavius Josephus perceptively points out in his discussion of the senatorial and popular sentiments in the aftermath of Caligula’s murder, the inertia of the pre-Augustan century of civil disorder persevered: [The senators] were eager to regain their former prestige and earnestly aspired, since after long years they now had the chance, to escape a slavery brought upon them by the insolence of the tyrants. The people, on the other hand, were jealous of the Senate, recognizing in the Emperors a curb upon the Senate’s encroachments and a refuge for themselves. (Ant. Jud., 19, 227f.) On the other hand, the impeachment of an abusive official by the young Helvidius Priscus, despite its personal background, was meant as a reminder of the old and proper ways of pursuing a public career. Some emperors, such as Augustus, Tiberius, or Claudius, had expected from the senators some degree of participation in every official proceeding. That was an effective device to keep the façade of the res publica restituta—the “restored Republic.” They reinstated and increased fines on those senators who more or less consistently withdrew into the private sphere. As we will see, at moments of crisis this issue could become explosive. The motivations varied. A dissident senator such as Helvidius Priscus could champion senatorial morality, following tradition. An opportunist, such as Eprius Marcellus, would grasp the chance to get involved in all sorts of conflicts within the senatorial order to promote a variety of enterprises: making trouble, gaining a fortune, becoming indispensable to an emperor, and so on. But the majority adopted a middle course either from inertia or from a desire to ensure their safety by pretending to cooperate. In either case, they proved to be faceless, intimidated men, with no special appeal, unenterprising out of a reluctance to attract unwelcome attention, easily manipulated; in short, more often than not they behaved under Nero as the the subservient mass whose adulatio is so loudly lamented by the writers of the time (e.g., Tac. Ann., 3, 65; 14, 64; 15, 74; cf. Sen. Ad Marc., 12, 2; De Br. V., 15, 2; De V.B., 2, 4; De Clem., 1, 14; De Tr. An., 1, 17). From the official point of view, a senator’s participation in government, if he complied with Imperial decisions at every step, was a sure sign of loyalty. Seen from a certain angle, participation confers legitimacy, and that was essential for the Imperial sense of security.

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The struggle for financial and social benefits, natural in every hierarchy, took place according to the familiar patterns of an irrevocable past which no longer made much sense. Thus, the episode just discussed allows us to discern that, apart from the real gains the members of the Senate could achieve through their cursus honorum, now carefully supervised by the emperor, there was also a delusory dimension to their existence. People would rave and quarrel, vilify and glorify each other, become engaged in turbulent but futile public activities to escape their impotence, to exorcise their demons, or to restore their self-respect. This illusory activity was a powerful substantiation of republicanist sentiments in the dissident imagination. But there was a deep ambiguity. The pre-Augustan res publica was identified in the public mind with disorder and the civil war, and Imperial propaganda worked to corroborate that image. For a sober and intelligent observer, such as Curiatius Maternus in Tacitus’ Dialogus, it was clear that the alternative to the principate’s tyranny, if there was any, could not be res publica vetus. And so he argues (Dial., 36ff.). At the same time he implicitly deplores the new order in which the art of eloquentia has no sense and even poetry has become a dangerous occupation (ibid., 11ff.). And he writes a tragedy about Cato, a celebrated republican hero, even identifying himself with his personage (ibid., 2ff.). Here is the contradiction. Curiatius Maternus and people like him were in fact obsessed by both ideas, however mutually exclusive: they experienced an inner torment of reason and emotion, reality and imagination, on conflicting levels of thought and feeling. On one level, the old Republic was still an embodiment of the Roman Dream, or Roman Myth, and only rare individuals could dismiss it altogether without risking intellectual self-destruction. On another level, the principate was a fact, and provided a great measure of order and comfort. That was the reality to be endured. V Tacitus declares that nothing in particular happened in the next year, AD 57 (Ann., 13, 31). But we may note an early case of religious dissent- the family trial of Pomponia Graecina, “a woman of distinction,” on the charge of “alien superstition,” in full accordance with the mos maiorum, and presided over by her own husband, A.Plautius Silvanus Britannicus, the conqueror of Britain (ibid.). The story recalls the uneasy atmosphere of Tiberius’ reign and his campaign against the influence of foreign cults (cf. Sen. Epist., 108, 22). The nature of Pomponia Graecina’s “superstition” is not specified. Incidentally, the accused woman’s husband Plautius Silvanus enjoyed a remote link with the dynasty through his relative Plautia Urgulanilla, Claudius’ first wife. But Tacitus supplies an interesting aside on Pomponia Graecina’s own ties with the Imperial family. She is described as a close friend of Iulia, the daughter of the younger Drusus and the mother of Rubellius Plautus. This Iulia was destroyed by Messallina (Dio, 60, 18, 4; cf. Suet. Div. Cl., 29), and Pomponia Graecina is said in the course of forty years to have proved her loyalty to her by an ostentatious display of mourning. Tacitus’ comment is significant for the dissident mentality of the times:

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“While [her behavior] went unpunished under Claudius’ reign, later it earned her glory” (Ann., 13, 22). This behavior implied an emphatic disdain for dissimulatio. Although it finally came to nothing (Pomponia Graecina was acquitted), it cannot be ruled out that, given Plautius Silvanus’ outstanding reputation and his commitment to traditional values (manifest in his handling of his wife’s case and suggestive of his disapproval of the current decadence), her denunciation on religious grounds was a part of an obscure intrigue actually aimed at him. On the part of the delatores it was not uncommon to exploit charges of this kind as a cover when more delicate political or personal issues were involved. The same year witnessed numerous senatorial attacks against collaborationists and delatores, past, present, and future. The sporadic successes of the multi bonique in this kind of endeavor were not due to the inability of the emperors to defend their own informers. Rather, they were frequently unwilling to diminish their prestige by exercising it on behalf of those who were not only unpopular but often passionately hated. Nonetheless, Nero procrastinated over the proceedings on the charge of extortion against his mother’s associate Publius Celer, the former Imperial procurator in the province of Asia (rumored, as we remember, to have poisoned the proconsul M.Junius Silanus (p. 2)), until the death of the accused (Ann., 13, 33). Some powerful personages intervened in a similar case on behalf of Eprius Marcellus, now at an early stage of his infamous career (see pp. 166ff.), and his Lycian accusers were punished (loc. cit.). But nothing helped when the same charge was brought by Cilicians against no less conspicuous a character, Cossutianus Capito, “who thought he had in province the same right of insolence that he enjoyed in the capital” (ibid.): he had already been acting as delator under Claudius (Tac. Ann., 11, 6–7). The defendant’s notorious father-in-law, Tigellinus, who later restored him to the curia (ibid., 14, 48), at that time had not yet acquired enough power to get him off the hook. Both Cossutianus Capito and Eprius Marcellus belonged to the resourceful and dynamic species of pauci et validi who found too little room for self-aggrandizement within traditional senatorial politics and chose instead to use morally dubious opportunities for lucrative and spectacular careers offered by direct cooperation with, and subservience to, the emperors, which often amounted to acting as an official prosecutor at the trials of dissidents. Not surprisingly, these people proved detestable to Tacitus and to those who shared his views. Their predicament, however, must not be simplified: for personal or other reasons they could occasionally come close to a dissident stand or be harassed and even destroyed by the reigning emperor or his successor in the interests of expediency, as discarded tools of mischief, no longer useful. It is interesting, for instance, that Nero’s future henchman and praetorian prefect, Tigellinus, was convicted in his early days under Caligula on a charge of adultery with Agrippina (Dio, 59, 24), which was very similar to the case of his future opponent, Seneca, banished to Corsica for his alleged involvement with another Imperial sister, Iulia Livilla. Men condemned on criminal charges, real or fictitious, could turn into informers for vengeance or compensation.

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The most versatile and obnoxious of this latter type was P.Suillius Rufus, whose trial created the chief sensation of the next year, AD 58. We can only speculate on the dynamics of his dissimulatio. A son of the renowned Vistilia, “the lady of six husbands” (Plin. NH, 7, 39), he was a half-brother of such famous individuals as the great general Domitius Corbulo and Milonia Caesonia, Caligula’s last wife. The account of the man’s activities as an informer implies that he possessed villainous inclinations. At the same time, it is not clear that he would necessarily have turned to the destruction of his fellow citizens—including even his own half-brother Q. Pomponius Secundus— had the course of his life taken another direction from the beginning. His early years appear respectable. He was a quaestor under Germanicus, and Tacitus makes him contrast this loyal service under that popular leader with Seneca’s alleged adulterous conduct (Ann., 13, 42). Coincidentally, he was married to Ovid’s stepdaughter (whose name remains unknown), and it was he whom the poet begged to intervene with Germanicus on his behalf (Ex Pon., 4, 8, 23f., 85f.). All this, and, in particular, the special rage Tiberius displayed at his later trial on a charge of bribery in AD 24 (Ann., 4, 31), allows us to infer that Suillius Rufus, due to his connection with Germanicus, was in some sort of opposition to the emperor. He was sentenced by the Senate to exile from Italy. Tiberius, however, insisted that he ought to be banished to an island (i.e., to suffer the stricter penalty of deportatio), and Tacitus makes the enigmatic comment that Tiberius “with a great and spirited insistence swore that the matter was crucial to the welfare of the res publica” (ibid.). This leads one to suspect that the charge of bribery, as occasionally happened, served merely to cover up an Imperial response to a political off ense of some gravity. Not surprisingly, contemporaries found this sentence cruel (ibid.). Presumably, Suillius Rufus was recalled by Caligula, made consul suffectus (year unknown), and under Claudius embarked on his career as a dreaded delator. During his second trial under Nero his accusers “charged Suillius with all the cruelties of Claudius’ reign,” citing the long list of his senatorial and equestrian victims (Ann., 13, 43) But even earlier, in AD 47, still under Claudius, his enemies made the first attempt to create trouble for him. C.Silius, consul-elect and Messallina’s lover, probably hoping to enhance his own prestige, inititated a move to enforce the lex Cincia, an old enactment which forbade the receipt of a fee or a gift for pleading a cause (Ann., 11, 5; cf. 13, 42). This was a serious blow for Suillius Rufus and his kind who, as professional lawyers, had derived much financial benefit from it. The measure’s implications were even more damaging to the delatores: “A decree was being prepared requiring that offenders were to be tried by the terms of the law de repetundis” (ibid., 11, 6). The measure, if approved by supreme authority, would have been interpreted by public opinion as an official censure of the delatores, who therefore panicked and “surrounded Caesar with pleas before the [impending] action” (ibid.). Claudius in his customary style decided on a compromise: a ceiling of ten thousand sesterces was announced for any payments to lawyers, and those who exceeded it were to be tried on a charge of extortion (ibid.).

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After Claudius’ death Suillius Rufus found himself, if not in disgrace, at least out of business and stripped of his former influence. But, in Tacitus’ formulation, “he was less dejected by the change in his circumstances than his enemies wished, preferring himself to be regarded a criminal rather than a suppliant” (Ann., 13, 42). The reasons for his personal enmity to Seneca, the recognized architect of the government’s “new course,” are unknown, but he launched a campaign against him characterized by peculiar dissident features: Suillius did not abstain from either complaint or vituperation, feeling free to speak not only because of the ferocity of his spirit but also because of his extreme old age, and assailing Seneca as an enemy of Claudius, under whom he had suffered very well deserved exile. (ibid.) Seneca, Suillius Rufus is made to claim, was in fact a parasite envious of the eloquent people who were doing useful and honorable work beneficial to their fellow-citizens. One was Germanicus’ quaestor, the other an adulterer in his family. Which was better, to be paid for practicing the law honestly or to be guilty of debauchery in the Imperial apartments? How did lofty philosophy correlate with enormous riches collected in four years of power ? The wills of childless people were chased after by one who preached philosophical poverty, the provinces were devastated by his usury. His, Suillius’, own wealth, on the contrary, was by no means excessive and had been acquired by honest labors. That is why “he would prefer to bear criminal charges and peril, anything, than to let a dignitas of long standing acquired by his own effort take second place to [Seneca’s] sudden good fortune” (ibid.). Tacitus’ recreation of Suillius Rufus’ motives and psychological state is persuasive. In fact, we are faced here with a paradoxical predicament: an obviously objectionable character, a former instrument of government terror, joined the dissident ranks, openly attacking one of the leaders of the new “enlightened” regime. These attacks hit their target and are echoed in later tradition. Seneca, in his turn, correctly perceived in the invective of Suillius Rufus a fundamental incrimination of the huge gap between his lofty philosophical sermons and his actual conduct in both public and private life. It is against this kind of all-embracing charge that he seems to have been defending himself in a treatise (whenever it was actually written) under the deceptive title De Vita Beata, “On the Happy Life”—and not only himself but, with his usual ambition to be universal teacher, also every reader subjected to similar attacks. In regard to Seneca’s quarrel with Suillius Rufus, however, no impartial Roman would have doubted who was to be regarded as morally superior: Suillius Rufus’ attack on Seneca’s existimatio was undercut by the existimatio of the attacker. Whatever Seneca’s guilt or even vices, he could not have competed with the murderous Suillius Rufus for popular hatred. The latter’s was the discontent of a terrorist under a humanist’s rule, and this is pointed proof of how dissidence, as a mental condition, is in itself psychologically ambiguous and morally neutral. There may well have been

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other persons behind Suillius Rufus’ anti-Senecan crusade. But the coalition in Seneca’s support, prepared to approve of punitive action against his slanderer, was much broader. It was in the nature of the regime to respond to Suillius Rufus’ whispering propaganda, aimed at Seneca’s moral impeachment, with political prosecution. The government decided on a show trial: after all, proceedings against a hateful figure substantiated the promise of future justice in Nero’s “coronation address.” Seneca succumbed to one of his many human weaknesses and approved Suillius Rufus’ prosecution de repetundis on the pretext of his corrupt governing of Cilicia in AD 52–3. This was an inspired move, particularly if we remember that, according to Tacitus, Suillius Rufus had himself accused Seneca of enrichment at the expense of the provincials. However, in order to prevent procrastination, the prosecutors ultimately chose to accuse the defendant of “crimes committed in the capital” (Ann., 13, 43), which meant a charge that his earlier delations were intentionally false and had been undertaken for self-aggrandizement. The political effect of this charge must have been considerably sharper. In his defense, as one would expect, Suillius Rufus denied personal responsibility, claiming that he was simply obeying Imperial orders. This was too much for Nero to tolerate: f or political reasons he could not allow subversion of the prestige of his divus pater, “deified father,” Claudius, and he personally intervened in the court procedure to disavow the defendant’s statement (ibid.). The latter’s attempt to transfer the blame to Messallina had equally little success. It was objected, not unreasonably: “Why has there been no one else to offer his eloquence in the service of that impudent raving woman?” Finally, Suillius Rufus was banished to the Balearic Isles and part of his property confiscated, though rumors circulated that even in exile he continued to enjoy a life of luxury and pleasure (ibid.). There was nonetheless danger for Imperial authority in such trials. The multi bonique could have taken them as political encouragement, which could have led, in its turn, to excesses. Accordingly, Nero himself intervened in order to prevent the prosecution, also de repetundis, of Suillius Rufus’ son, consul ordinarius AD 50, M.Suillius Nerullinus, signaling an end to the affair. It was in that same year that a fascinating woman called Poppaea Sabina appeared at court, and to her arrival Tacitus attributes a new series of public evils (Ann., 13, 45). On her father’s side, she was of an equestrian family (Suet. Nero, 35) which had suffered from the Imperial terror: both her father, T.Ollius, and her mother, the elder Poppaea Sabina, had been destroyed, by Tiberius and Claudius respectively. So she had learned to conceal her resentment and to practice dissimulatio. Nero’s intimate friend M.Salvius Otho figures prominently in the subsequent psychodrama. Tacitus offers two versions of the story; he revised in the Annales the account of the affair he gave in the Historiae because he acquired additional, and in his view more credible, information. We read in the Historiae (1, 13) that Nero, having made Poppaea Sabina his mistress, entrusted her to Otho until he could rid himself of his own unloved wife, Octavia (ibid.). If so, Otho played exactly the same role as Annaeus Serenus did in the initial stages of Nero’s affair with Acte (see p. 74).

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Subsequently, Nero suspected that Otho had started an affair with Poppaea Sabina and removed him from the court by appointing him governor of Lusitania (ibid.). A more expanded tale is found in the Annales (13, 45f.). Here Poppaea Sabina, married to Rufrius Crispinus, the former praetorian prefect, falls in love with Otho, seduced “by his youth, by his luxurious mode of living or because he was regarded as the most intense of Nero’s friendships” (ibid., 45). The phrasing here is characteristic Tacitean innuendo, the “weighted” alternative hinting at Poppaea Sabina’s ambition and self-interest. Shortly afterward, the two “complemented their adultery with matrimony” (ibid.). Thereafter, we learn, Otho proceeded to glorify his wife’s beauty and elegance to the emperor, “either imprudent because of his infatuation with her… or with the purpose of firing up the other [Nero] so that, if the two of them would share the same woman, this bond would augment his power” (ibid., 46). Nero, finally seduced, did not wish to continue this ménage à trois. Hence his gradual alienation from Otho until he took the final step of appointing him as governor of Lusitania (ibid.). Even though none of the characters involved was lacking in dissimulatio, Otho could have been a participant in all this without any far-reaching plans. Refined voluptuary that he was, he could have enjoyed the whole thing aesthetically or sensually in the manner of the author of the Satyricon and have worked for its perpetuation. A clear-cut example of a “disgraced amicus,” apparently surprised by the breakdown of a pleasurable arrangement, Otho belonged to a group that can be labeled “sexual dissidents”—not, of course, in any modern sense of a difference in sexual practices or persuasions from the common, but to signify those who fell into political trouble merely because their sexual proclivities interfered with the emperor’s own. The impact of Otho’s case must not, however, be underestimated. After all, it was he who became one of Nero’s successors. The man clearly possessed a great deal of stamina. Dio records, for instance, his insolent remark to Nero, “As truly as you may expect to see me Caesar,” to which, instead of punishment, he received in response only: “I shall not see you even consul” (61, 11). Leaving on one side the question of the story’s veracity, the exchange seems characteristic of their relationship, and Nero was to learn that his friend must be taken seriously. Neither is it accidental that Tacitus takes care to emphasize that as Lusitania’s governor he conducted himself beyond reproach, “making lavish use of his leisure but tempered in the exercise of his power” (Ann., 13, 46; cf. Hist., 1, 13; also, Suet. Otho, 3). One can only speculate on his ultimate motive in supporting Galba’s revolt of AD 68 (see pp. 229f.). It could have been the memory of humiliation, combined with a desire for vengeance and a sudden opportunity for self-aggrandizement. The emotional turmoil deriving from the need for dissimulatio was augmented: in passing, Plutarch reports (Gal., 19) that on account of his marriage with Poppaea Sabina, Nero put to death Otho’s sister and wife. VI Late in AD 58 a blow was finally dealt to Faustus Cornelius Sulla. Three years earlier, this Imperial relative had been acquitted of conspiring with Burrus and Pallas against

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the emperor (see pp. 20f.). This time Nero’s own obnoxious habits were the reported cause for Faustus Sulla’s fall. The Imperial freedman (Tib. Iulius) Graptus, well trained, according to Tacitus, in court intrigues, insinuated that Faustus Sulla engineered an ambush with the purpose of assassinating Nero as he was returning to the palace after one of his drunken escapades (Ann., 13, 47). By this time, Nero’s nightly adventures—when the emperor, in disguise, amused himself by wreaking havoc in brothels and wine-shops and assaulting casual passers-by—had become a familiar source of anxiety to Rome’s populace (cf. ibid., 13, 25). We know of at least one person who f ell victim to Imperial mischief and who can be called ironically a “dissident by misadventure.” A young man, C.Iulius Montanus, of the senatorial order happened to run into Nero’s gang at night and, when attacked, fought back until he recognized his chief attacker; thereupon he immediately begged for pardon but was instead forced to suicide because, Tacitus wryly comments, “while excusing himself he seemed an accuser” (ibid.). On the other hand, there is no evidence that Faustus Sulla had ever manifested an enterprising spirit or a will to resistance. On the contrary, his meek compliance with every new misfortune to the very moment of his eventual execution must justify Tacitus’ holding his “idle character” (Ann., 13, 47) in contempt. Nonetheless, as in the case of Rubellius Plautus, his mere status as an Imperial relative was a source of existimatio which aroused in others very different expectations of his conduct. Nero, himself an expert practitioner of dissimulatio, was convinced that Faustus Sulla’s insignificance was a deliberate ploy, a mask the man shrewdly wore to conceal his subversive nature (ibid.). After all, due to the schizophrenic mentality prevalent under the principate, Nero had his reasons: his own adoptive father, Claudius, in order to survive, had to dissimulate and play the fool for the greater part of his life. As for the incident which Graptus exploited in charging Faustus Sulla with treason, Tacitus reports that a street fight did indeed take place between the emperor’s attendants and some hooligans, but by now such clashes had become a matter of course, given Nero’s way of enjoying himself at night. But none of Faustus Sulla’s slaves or clients was recognized, and when Tacitus says that their master’s nature was “most contemptible” and that he, “incapable of any daring, shied away from crime” (Ann., 13, 47), we may well believe him. Otherwise, if the authorities had possessed evidence against Faustus Sulla, he would not have escaped physical destruction, since an assassination attempt was punishable by death. It may be presumed that he was officially exculpated, as Rubellius Plautus was earlier, but had to suffer exile to Massalia (ibid.), as the latter shortly would do. In both cases their membership of the Imperial family continued to constitute for them an increasing danger and, at the same time, to be seen as presenting a personal threat to Nero. Finally, the end of AD 58 witnessed P.Clodius Thrasea Paetus, the most interesting and attractive of the Neronian dissidents, entering on a course of action that would lead to his eventual martyrdom. The initial impetus which influenced Thrasea Paetus’ attitudes came from his family connections. A wealthy citizen of Patavium (Tac. Ann., 16, 21; Dio, 62, 26) and of a

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conservative municipal background, he was himself a “new man” eventually elevated to a higher rank by the Imperial will. He married into a clan known for anti-Imperial activities and identified with traditional senatorial interests. His father-in-law was A.Caecina Paetus, who in AD 42, after being involved in the usurpation attempt of M. Arruntius Furius Camillus Scribonianus, was forced, together with his wife, the elder Arria, to commit suicide. We know that Thrasea Paetus was present on that famous occasion (Plin. Epist., 3, 16, 10). It appears that Caecina Paetus, in his capacity of both a patron and a relative, offered him a role-model of sorts. This is signaled by Thrasea’s assumption of his father-in-law’s cognomen, Paetus, for his own—an act that also betrays an acute awareness of the dissident legacy, and can be interpreted as a symptom of a hereditary enmity to the Julio-Claudians. Recent scholarship has illuminated the crucial importance for the Romans (especially in family tradition) of precedent, exemplum, in determining patterns of conduct. This was, in fact, the theme of Thrasea Paetus’ address before his own suicide. Pliny the Younger, familiar with the members of his circle, reports Thrasea Paetus’ opinion that three types of cases should be undertaken: those that concern one’s friends, those that no one else would take on, and those that establish a precedent—exemplum (Epist., 6, 19). And he expands on this third type: “Why those that establish a precedent? Because the most important thing is whether inducement is offered to good or evil” (ibid.). This insistence upon the moral nature of a legal precedent shaped Thrasea Paetus’ political vision and made him a chief promoter under Nero of the “constitutionalist” principles, that is, of the proper relationship between the emperor and the Senate encapsulated in the notions of dignitas senatoria and libertas Senatus. Yet, the examples also provided a lesson on how not to behave. The failure of Camillus Scribonianus’ uprising should have buried the remnants of republicanist hopes. It also brutally exposed the precariousness of conspiracy. Thrasea Paetus, in contrast to his father-in-law, never participated in any conspiracy—if we dismiss as unfounded the modern notion that he took part in the Pisonian affair. He chose a different route. The assumption that Thrasea Paetus was drawn into public life and, furthermore, was granted the consulship through the agency of Seneca is questionable. There is no evidence that the two of them were ever friendly. In the Senecan corpus Thrasea Paetus’ name is never mentioned, although the philosopher praises some of his living contemporaries. It will be shown that Tacitus’ report on Seneca’s compliments to Nero after the latter’s “reconciliation” with Thrasea Paetus (Ann., 15, 23) is open to various interpretations (see pp. 79f.). Evidently Thrasea Paetus had several motives for his initial participation in politics, and this must have started under Claudius, despite the latter’s destruction of his parentsin-law. This naturally demanded dissimulatio on Thrasea Paetus’ part, but at the same time he considered it a necessary evil: “He allowed to pass earlier adulations either in silence or with brief assent” (Tac. Ann., 14, 12). But it is possible that for a time he even fell under the spell of great expectations and the new government’s reconciliatory language, and that this increased his interest in promoting his own

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career. His “constitutionalism” did not prevent him from collaborating with the regime as long as it fulfilled the promise, enunciated in Nero’s “coronation address,” to abstain from the autocratic and anti-senatorial practices of the previous reign. Thrasea Paetus was consul suffectus in AD 56 (November-December), and his first act shortly afterwards was his involvement in the above-mentioned prosecution of the Claudian delator Cossutianus Capito, accused by the Cilicians of extortion (Tac. Ann., 16, 21; cf. 13, 33). The action is significant. There was no personal motive at this stage: Burrus, not the hateful Tigellinus, Cossutianus Capito’s father-in-law, was still the praetorian prefect. Thrasea Paetus’ support, apparently impartial, of the Cilician cause discounts modern attempts to see in him a militant chauvinist and oppressor of the provincials. His stand on their behalf was in accordance with the ancestral notion of justice. Thrasea Paetus’s views led to his next move in the Senate. He objected to a proposal to permit the Syracusans to provide a larger than customary number of gladiators for the games (Tac. Ann., 13, 49). His action was based on notions of gravitas and simplicitas, implying an uncorrupt and responsible way of human life. On the other hand, the privilege requested by the Syracusans was, from the traditional, ancestral viewpoint, luxuria, an excess, and that was relevant, since a recent public performance in the city, tacitly encouraged by Nero, had provoked trouble (Tac. Ann., 13, 25). Seen from this narrower perspective, Thrasea Paetus’ tactic was noteworthy: unable to criticize the current state of affairs openly, he concentrated upon a problem far removed from the Capitol in order to prompt his fellow senators to a broader recognition of their duties in terms of collective and individual existimatio. Given Nero’s predilections, even this indirect attack on luxuria demanded an uncommon measure of confidence on the part of the speaker. These events are relevant to a larger drama that was acted out in the minds of the conscript fathers in the curia on that occasion, if we trust Tacitus’ description of the subsequent controversy which suggests a variety of dissident attitudes. The detractors of Thrasea Paetus, obtrectatores Thraseae (Tac. Ann., 13, 49), launched an attack on him accusing him of lack of spirit and of disguised opportunism: Why, if he believed that the state was in need of the senatorial dignity, was he himself devoted to such trivial matters [as gladiators for the Syracusans]? Why not speak out for and against war and peace, or on taxation and law and other matters that pertain to the Roman welfare? It was allowed to each senator, whenever he exercised the right of speech, to express any sentiments he wished and demand a discussion. Or was the only improvement [in the status quo] he considered worth suggesting that the Syracusans should not be given more lavish spectacles? Was everything else in all parts of the Empire going as well as it would if not Nero but Thrasea Paetus held the reigns of government? But if even crucial things were to be overlooked because of dissimulation, how much greater need there was to abstain from the trivial? (ibid.)

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Tacitus’ rhetoric reflects psychological conditions in the senatorial order. Who exactly were these detractors of Thrasea Paetus? Presumably, men of various persuasions: formidable reactionaries, or republicanist dreamers; pessimists, committed to the obstruction of all public proceedings; conformists, eager to take vengeance on a prominent nonconformist; and even cynical informers, either displaying their cunning or staging a provocation. In response to his critics, Thrasea Paetus defiantly offered his “theory of small deeds”: He responded that it is not because of his ignorance of the present [state of affairs] that he would correct decrees of this kind, but setting the matter down to the credit of the fathers [senators] so that it would become clear that men who give attention even to the most trivial things were not going to practice dissimulation in their concern with matters of importance. (Tac. Ann. 13, 49) This quotation sounds authentic. Thrasea Paetus’ angry determination sounds very close to revealing “subversive intent,” the animus nocendi, and in his exchange with his opponents we see dissimulatio not only surfacing but firmly rooted in the political setting. On the other hand, as his response suggests, it was in the spirit of a “utilitarian compromise,” a belief that a gain in a small endeavor could eventually result in beneficial change on a larger scale, that Thrasea Paetus pursued his own quest for accommodation to reality at this early stage of his dissident adventure.

32

2 THE YEARS OF FRUSTRATION

I Our sources treat the murder of Agrippina, in AD 59, after several failed attempts, as a turning point in Nero’s rule (cf. Tac. Ann., 14, 13). It marked the unraveling of the moral fiber of the Burrus-Seneca government and, in the eyes of posterity, it ended the “five golden years.” The emergence of Poppaea Sabina caused Agrippina, desperately engaged in her struggle for her son, a sort of breakdown. In order to survive she had to retrieve her meager capacities for dissimulatio. Even the story of her incestuous advances to her son (Tac. Ann., 14, 2; Suet. Nero, 28; 61, 1, 4), as a last resort to regain influence over him, is not entirely incredible. Yet there is no evidence that Agrippina, by now residing in the country (Tac. Ann., 14, 3), was involved in any subversion. Suetonius implies that Otho was Nero’s accomplice in the plot to destroy Agrippina by means of a collapsible ship devised by the emperor’s former preceptor and Agrippina’s enemy (Tac. Ann., 14, 3; cf. Suet. Nero, 35), the freedman Anicetus: “On the day that Nero had chosen for the murder of his mother, as a means of allaying suspicion, [Otho] had invited both of them to a dinner of the most exquisite elegance and graciousness” (Otho, 3). If true, this means that Otho had become sympathetic to Poppaea Sabina’s goal—the removal of Agrippina as the obstacle to her marriage to Nero. Between the first and the second try at murdering his mother—after she escaped from the collapsible ship and before he dispatched a death squad to finish her off, all during one turbulent night (Tac. Ann., 14, 4ff.; cf. Suet. Nero, 34; Dio, 61, 12ff.)—Nero framed and executed on the spot Agrippina’s messenger, the freedman L.Agermus (or Agerinus), so that he could charge his mother with plotting assassination. As Tacitus implies (Ann., 14, 3), the reason why this official version was believed by the populace was because it agreed with their expectations. Agrippina’s previous record, and her existimatio with the public, made any allegation about her lust for power believable. Seneca’s letter to the Senate, charging her with treason (ibid., 10f.), was a largely successful piece of tendentious propaganda. And those of the upper echelons who knew better were, with the notable exception of Thrasea Paetus, effectively silenced.

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In this context Suetonius’ story (Nero, 35) of Nero’s rape and subsequent execution of Agrippina’s reputed lover, the young Aulus Plautius (otherwise unknown), makes better sense. The allegation that she seduced him with the promise of supreme power (ibid.) was in full accord with the popular image of her, and the youth belonged to a family of “dynastic dissidents” linked to the Imperial house through Claudius’ first wife, Plautia Urgulanilla. There is no compelling reason to date this episode within Agrippina’s lifetime. It is more probable that the story pertains to the harassment of his mother’s former associates which Nero undertook after her murder. The mocking exclamation Suetonius attributes to him—“Let my mother now come and kiss my successor” (ibid.)—suggests that in preparing to execute Plautius he was thinking of his mother already in Hades. In any event, though the story, never mentioned by Tacitus, may appear dubious, it throws light on what public opinion wanted to believe. The involvement of Burrus and Seneca in Agrippina’s assassination was the outcome of their policy of compromise in respect to Nero’s personal conduct. From encouraging Nero’s adulterous affair with Acte and acquiescing in Britannicus’ murder, they were forced into complicity in Nero’s matricide. There was no room left for Stoic virtues or traditional Roman values. Tacitus portrays vividly how the two “ministers” were summoned to advise the emperor terrified by the news of his mother’s survival from the collapsed ship. Seneca is said to have first inquired whether the military could be employed against her (Tac. Ann., 14, 7). But Burrus’ answer was negative. He asserted their allegiance to the Imperial clan and particularly to the family of Germanicus: “The praetorians are bound by ties of loyalty to the whole house of the Caesars and the memory of Germanicus will make them refrain from any foul deed against his progeny [i.e. Agrippina]” (ibid.). In other words, in respect to their patrons, the “house of the Caesars,” the soldiers maintained their loyalty, fides, on the grounds of their oath of allegiance, but in respect to Germanicus’ memory they did so on the grounds of beneficia, reciprocal moral obligations. But Burrus emphatically repudiated both when he said: “Anicetus [the man who engineered the collapsible ship] must carry out his promise” (ibid.). Accordingly, a special squad was dispatched under Anicetus, and Agrippina perished, pointing to the womb that had borne a matricide and crying: “Strike here!” (ibid., 8; cf. Dio, 62, 13). Burrus thus betrayed his own traditional fides to a patron and disregarded the beneficia he owed to Agrippina, and violated his oath of allegiance— everything he said the praetorian guards would have refused to do. As a further step in ignomy, he had to spur his officers to approach Nero with adulatio honoring his crime (Tac. Ann., 14, 10). In all this he was acting pragmatically and opportunistically. Seneca, too, showed the utmost opportunism by composing, in Nero’s name, a letter to the Senate glorifying the matricide (Tac. Ann., 14, 10–11). Tacitus’ report of this official document appears authentic. The letter’s main point was that Agrippina’s design to murder Nero through the agency of Agermus was the immediate cause of what happened (ibid., 10). Further argument (ibid., 11) was apparently designed to incite resentment against Agrippina’s thirst for power (for example, her

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unprecedented requirement of an oath of personal allegiance—sacramentum—to her from the praetorian cohorts, the Senate, and the people, an oath properly made to the ruling emperor alone). The charge—her failure to seize supreme power had aroused in her a hatred of all social orders, as was shown by her opposition to the army donatives and the grain dole to the commons and by her destruction of eminent citizens—sounded incredible. So a reminder was inserted that she had been frustrated in her attempt to preside over the state reception of the Armenian embassy (cf. Tac. Ann., 13, 5). What remained deliberately unstated here was Seneca’s own beneficial role in handling the embassy episode. By ascribing the credit for it to Nero, Seneca sought some credit from the senatorial audience, who knew of his own role in that affair. Nothing spared him, however, from public disapproval (ibid., 14, 11). The letter’s indictment of Agrippina was complemented by an attack on the policies of Claudius’ reign—one of Seneca’s favorite topics. On this occasion, however, Agrippina was chosen as the scapegoat, and her destruction was called a matter of public good fortune (ibid.). Finally, Tacitus scrutinizes the implausibility of the official version: only an idiot could believe that the shipwreck was accidental; but even if it had been, how and why would its victim play the lunatic by sending one man to break through the cohorts and naval contingents guarding the emperor in order to assassinate him on the spot (Tac. Ann., 14, 11)? This rhetorical question must have been silently pondered by many in the Senate and in the city, though such preoccupations did not bother large numbers of the Italian populace: following the example of the emperor’s amici, “as a testimonial to their joy, the nearby Campanian municipalities offered sacrifices and sent delegations” (ibid., 10). At least some of these demonstrations may well have been a spontaneous response of the masses. Agrippina, after all, wass by that time popularly regarded as a monster (cf. ibid., 13). We learn that Nero restored several of his mother’s victims and enemies to the rank they enjoyed before having suffered at her hands (ibid., 12), while Dio’s vague remarks (if they do not betray some chronological error) on random terror in AD 59 may refer to the elimination of the remnants of Agrippina’s supporters (61, 19, 4). Burrus’ campaign on Nero’s behalf among the military officers and Seneca’s penning an official letter to the Senate with the same purpose represent behavior opposite to that expected of a vir bonus or a sapiens. Their conduct in this affair could not be excused, and the credibility of their government in the eyes of contemporaries diminished. The mass of senators, in their subsequent adulation, followed the lead given by Burrus and Seneca: “The most prominent outdid each other in their incredible eagerness to decree acts of thanksgiving at all the appropriate shrines” (Tac. Ann., 14, 12). Each new and sanctimonious adulatory decree emulated the one preceding it: the festival of Minerva, on which Agrippina’s “intrigues” were exposed, was to be celebrated with annual games; Minerva’s statue, with Nero’s effigy by her side, was to be erected in the curia; and Agrippina’s birthday, November 6, was to be included in the official list of “cursed dates,” dies nefasti (ibid.).

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In stark contrast to all the adulatio stands Thrasea Paetus’ first act of public defiance: in the midst of the exultation and applause for Nero’s self-congratulation as written by Seneca, he stood up and left the curia abruptly. Tacitus comments sarcastically that this “placed him in danger without initiating anything that would lead to liberty for others” (Ann., 14, 12; cf. Dio, 62, 15). It follows that up to this point there was no threat to his status or welfare. But Thrasea Paetus’ anger both with Nero’s conduct and with the Senate’s sycophancy had been gradually growing for quite a while (cf. Tac., loc. cit.), and his stance of dissimulatio came to an end. He had reconciled himself to Britannicus’ murder, since he had chosen to accept the consulship after that event. After all, a case could even be made that in order to preserve civic peace it was unavoidable (cf. Tac. Ann., 13, 17). At that time no one wished to draw the Senate into celebration of a criminal act; the whole affair, in fact, was conducted as clandestinely as possible, and the government under Burrus and Seneca observed the proprieties. Agrippina’s murder was an entirely different matter. One was supposed to rejoice at the alleged exposure of a dangerous conspiracy, though the crime of matricide had been committed. The senators’ impotence was mockingly exploited: by making them initiate official celebrations of the terrible crime they were made accomplices. Witnessing senatorial dignity irreparably damaged, Thrasea Paetus hastened to save his own dignitas embodied in his individual libertas, his inner freedom of thought and action. The only effective weapon against adulatio was nonparticipation. Thus his withdrawal from the curia became his first step toward secessio—abrogation of public life. A passage in Dio, interestingly, illuminates Thrasea Paetus’ views on adulatio, revealing the man’s unusual characteristics: He used to say, for example: “If I were the only one that Nero was going to put to death, I could easily pardon the rest who load him with flatteries. But since even among those who praise him to excess there are many whom he has either already disposed of or will yet destroy, why should one degrade oneself to no purpose and then perish like a slave, when one may pay one’s debt to nature like a freeman? As for me, men will talk of me hereafter, but of them never, except only to record the fact that they were put to death.” (Dio, 62, 15) These comments sound authentic and represent the traditional Roman commitment to virtus that, by definition, results in glory. Thrasea Paetus’ attitude here is sober and realistic: he contemplates contemporary realities in all their existential horror. Of his own destruction he is confident, as Hector in the Iliad is well aware that Troy will eventually perish and he with it. Accordingly, Thrasea Paetus’ assessment of dissimulatio is eminently practical. He suggests that he might view it otherwise if adulation could in fact enhance one’s chance for survival. In that case, at least for his colleagues, if not for him personally, the practice of adulatio could be justified to some degree. This view is humane, although emphatically un-Stoic, in its lenient attitude

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toward human failings. To my knowledge, it is unique. Despite his professed humanitas and his personal faults, Seneca himself never went so far in his many attempts at selfaccommodation. Dio’s remarks, revealing as they do Thrasea Paetus’ sensitivity and perspicacity, substantiate Pliny’s claim that he was “the mildest of men” (Epist., 8, 22). He does not rush to condemn his senatorial colleagues for their cowardice and debasement. But his personal privilege was to die as a free man, not as a slave. As Dio assures us, “he could not say [in the curia] what he would and would not say what he could” (loc. cit.). We may safely infer therefore that his comments on adulation were uttered only within an intimate circle and, most likely, were recorded in the early Stoic martyrologies, such as the works of Fannius or Arulenus Rusticus, who were Thrasea Paetus’ younger contemporaries and close friends. Such authors as Pliny and Epictetus did not invent the sayings of their heroes, especially ones so unorthodox from the Stoic viewpoint. Finally, the above quoted remarks of Thrasea Paetus are low-key in contrast, for instance, with another of his dicta, this time pointedly topical and rhetorical: “Nero can kill me, but he cannot harm me” (ibid.). This line of thought, whether in the form of casual remarks or elaborate speech, reflected the chief components of dissident sensibilities and behavior. An intellectual framework based on the contrast of libertas and servitium, “freedom” and “slavery,” was shaped in senatorial minds by the force of circumstance and was not merely a simple result of its long development in the rhetorical tradition. These people could hardly talk or think otherwise, given their intolerably contradictory mode of life. It is worth pointing out that when Thrasea Paetus made his démarche in the curia, followed by his eventual secessio, it was not done as a response to any threat or as an attempt to anticipate an inevitable downfall. Up to that moment his position was secure. His gesture was provoked by sheer moral outrage and was not intended as a practical maneuver or made for any utilitarian purpose. II According to Tacitus, Nero hesitated to return to Rome, apprehensive of the popular response to the matricide (Ann., 14, 13). And to some extent these fears were reasonable. A few gestures of insult directed at him were reported (Dio, 61, 16, 1ff.; cf. Suet. Nero, 39); most of them were anonymous, but Suetonius (ibid.) mentions the Cynic philosopher Isidorius and the Atellan actor Datus, both of whom taunted Nero about his crime and were banished. But to the surprise of even his entourage (Tac. Ann., 14, 13), on his entrance in the capital Nero was given a hero’s welcome, not only by the obsequious senators but also by crowds of common people: “Wives and children were lined up in ranks according to age and sex, and wherever he proceeded, tiers of seats were erected as they are to view a triumphal procession” (ibid.). The description clearly suggests some manipulation of the masses on the part of the authorities, though it is unclear who was in charge. At the same time, animosity against Agrippina may have proved, on balance, stronger than outrage at the matricide, owing, in part, to her excessive political ambition, inappropriate for a

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woman, and to her role in the power play at the Imperial court. Nero’s drastic resolution of the problem posed by his relationship to his mother may have been construed by many as the only available course of action. In any event, we must face the problem of Nero’s unmistakable popularity with large portions of the Roman people, which lasted—despite recurrent bursts of public anger at him—till the very end of his reign and beyond (cf., e.g., Tac. Hist., 1, 4; 1, 78; Suet. Nero, 57). In Nero’s case the effect of his behavior on existimatio was ambiguous. But he proved more successful than his mother: there was a strong “populist” component in his self-image as the “artistic tyrant” craving his audience’s applause. By contrast, Agrippina’s peculiar persona as an arrogant female autocrat was universally detested. It was to her detriment that she chose not to imitate the policies of her great-grandmother Livia Augusta, who was no less influential at times in state affairs but who prudently used to conceal her power under the cloak of a model housewife. Any insight into the issue of Nero’s appreciation by his contemporaries must start from the values of those who responded, whether positively or negatively, to his extraordinary performances. All our authorities are equally outraged at Nero’s scenic and histrionic activities (e.g. Tac. Ann., 14, 14–16; Dio, 17–20; Suet. Nero, 20–5). This was because theatrical and athletic performances as well as gladiatorial combats were traditionally seen by the upper or upper middle classes (to which our sources belonged and whom they addressed) as a contemptible occupation wholly unbecoming a free man and least of all a dignitary. It was Nero’s “artistic tyranny,” not only in regard to his personal conduct but to his impositions on public taste and behavior, that was highly offensive to traditional Roman feelings. The bizarre mixture of kitsch and debauchery so characteristic of the emperor’s lifestyle was indeed a far cry from the mos maiorum. If Nero, as has recently been argued, seriously intended to implement an “aesthetic re-education” of the Roman people along the lines of the Greek cultural experience, he failed especially with the upper echelons of society whom he primarily wished to reform. In history, no mandatory “cultural revolutions” were ever successful. In addition to their disgust at observing Nero’s own histrionic feats, most senators hated the whole idea since he repeatedly and relentlessly pressured them to participate. The congratulatory decree celebrating the matricide recently extorted from them broke what remained of their public spirit and led only to further selfabasement. It was not enough for avoiding trouble to applaud the emperor’s stage performances, so disgraceful in their eyes (cf. Dio, 61, 20). With time, the situation deteriorated: Suetonius (Nero, 25) tells us that “to many he either offered his friendship or proclaimed his hostility according to whether they had applauded him lavishly or grudgingly.” At the festival of Juvenalia which he instituted in AD 59 (Tac. Ann., 14, 15; cf. Hist., 3, 62; Dio, 61, 19f.; Suet. Nero, 11; Plin. NH, 37, 19) many senators and equestrians, from fear and from greed, had to comply with Nero’s invitation to take the lead and appear on stage and even to fight as gladiators, a fact that Tacitus grievously laments (Ann., 14, 14f.). In fact, the whole affair was in

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violation of the law of 22 BC that specifically forbade the members of upper classes to perform in public spectacles (Dio, 48, 43, 3; cf. 54, 2, 5). Monetary awards or other incentives may have been offered, but, as the historian observes drily, “any bounty that comes from someone in a position to command becomes a bounty that cannot be refused” (Ann., 14, 14). And contemporaries were always quick to connect the emperor’s largess in all these costly activities with his criminal inclinations (cf. Dio, 61, 20). For a Roman of the traditional mold, even to witness a spectacle like this was unbearable. If one wished to be consistent and preserve moral integrity the only alternatives were either to assassinate Nero or to commit suicide. Meditating upon this existential quandary, we may gain better insight into the inner ordeal of dissident individuals. The resultant compromises were as many as the number of men involved. But at such a political juncture any compromise could precipitate moral collapse. Nothing was so revealing of this process which compelled dissimulatio beyond habitual limits as the sight of the praetorian prefect Burrus, renowned for his “moral rigidity” and his old-fashioned discipline (cf. Ann., 13, 2), assisting Nero in his public theatrical displays. “Burrus, sadness on his face, deploring the performance—and praising it,” as Tacitus puts it (ibid., 14, 15). Dio elaborates the picture: “Beside him [Nero] stood Burrus and Seneca, like teachers prompting him; and they would wave their arms and togas at every utterance of his and lead others to do the same” (62, 20). Their conduct is deliberately contrasted with that of Thrasea Paetus, who “was the single exception, since he would never help Nero in these matters” (ibid.). Burrus’ behavior made manifest more than just the decline of his and his colleague’s influence. In contrast to Seneca, who was a philosopher and a courtier of flexible habits, the praetorian prefect was much more committed to traditional norms of dignity and decency, so that his compliance with the “artistic tyrant”’s whims signaled a further stage of his own moral deterioration. A very different picture emerges when we turn our attention to the response of the lower classes to their emperor’s athletic and artistic exhibitionism. It could hardly be expected that their enthusiasm (see Tac. Ann., 14) was pertinent in any way to Nero’s presumed program to “Hellenize” Roman culture and society. Love of spectacles of all kinds had been characteristic of the Roman plebs for centuries, and, as Tacitus perceptively remarks, “the mob is always more than willing to have amusements; and, when pressured in that direction by the emperor himself, it is overjoyed” (ibid.). Standing on the top of the Roman ladder of patronage as pater patriae, “the father of the fatherland,” every emperor necessarily assumed the role of the universal patron. For a lower-class person in the crowd to see Nero’s public performances was a plausible way of identifying oneself with the bearer of supreme power, to enhance an emotional bond with him, to rejoice in his deceptive accessibility and his apparent readiness to please his subjects. Such an attitude paradoxically coexisted with popular sentiments emotionally opposite to a sense of intimacy and participation: an awe, if not admiration, of Nero’s less innocuous and at times monstrous extravagances,

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among them his bizarre sexual exploits and other perversions, including an ostentatious display of cruelty and sadism. The lower classes were, by and large, unconcerned with the tradition of mos maiorum. By its very nature existimatio is a contradictory phenomenon, and, in addition, the discrepancy in its manifestation among the multi bonique and the mob—the plebs sordida—was evident. In respect to the latter social class, the public humiliation of the former exercised a special appeal whose origins went back far into the past, to the social struggle in the time of the Gracchi and later (cf. Dio, 61, 17). The popular sense of Schadenfreude at the public mockery of the “best” was only deepened by Nero’s further indulgence in his cruelly capricious taunting. We read that when some of these “voluntarily enforced” participants on stage, out of shame or to avoid being recognized, masked themselves, the emperor ordered the masks to be taken off, “pretending that this was demanded by the populace, and exhibited the performers to a rabble whose magistrates they had been but a short time ago” (Dio, 61, 17). Demagogic acts of this sort increased Nero’s already considerable popularity with the masses, which, in turn, could not but further the odium he aroused in the senatorial order. The mocking and disrespectful attitude toward mos maiorum as a response to the Neronian “artistic tyranny” traceable among underprivileged social groups was also shared by a number of the influential pauci et validi at the Imperial court, typified by the future emperor A.Vitellius, a son of Claudius’ strongman L.Vitellius, who “used to accompany the singing Nero” out of admiration and “because he was a slave and chattel of luxury and gluttony” (Tac. Hist., 2, 71; cf. Suet. Vit., 4) and who attempted a brief Neronian revival during his abortive hold on power. In addition, there were quite a few refined voluptuaries, of the Petronius Arbiter sort, who enjoyed making fun of “ancestral traditions”. At a lower level, and with a clearly pragmatic purpose, operated a clique of Augustiani, “conspicuous for their youthful vigor and strength” (Tac. Ann., 14, 15), individuals whom Nero enlisted from the equestrian order as his personal claque. Suetonius supplies some particulars: they were divided into groups, taught an exotic “Alexandrian” style of applause, and their leaders were paid four hundred sesterces each (Nero, 20). Their motives, in Tacitus’ words, were natural wantonness or dreams of power (loc. cit.). Against this background it seems noteworthy that, according to Tacitus, Nero nonetheless felt concerned with historical or even religious legitimation of his athletic and artistic endeavors: Horse racing, he was in the habit of reminding them, had been the practice of kings and warlords in the past; it was celebrated by the praise of poets and formed part of the observance in honor of the gods. As to song, it was sacred to Apollo; and it was in the garment of a singer in which this deity, eminent in power and prophecy, was represented, not only in Greek cities but in the precincts of Roman temples. (Ann., 14, 14)

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If the Juvenalia were celebrated at the Imperial estate and could be seen—although common spectators were allowed—as a private affair, the Neronia of the following year, AD 60 (Tac. Ann., 14, 20f.; Suet. Nero, 12; Dio, 61, 21) were held at public expense and presided over by state officials. Nero instituted it as a sacred festival, to be celebrated every fifth year, as the official statement phrased it, “on behalf of his preservation and the continuance of his power” (Dio, 61, 21; cf. Suet. Nero, 12). It appears to have been the first instance in Rome of games in tripartite Hellenic mode, which, in addition to the customary athletic competition and chariot races, included contests in rhetoric, music, and poetry (Suet., ibid.). In this latter contest, Seneca’s nephew, the poet Lucan, took part, singing, presumably with success, his laus Neronis (Suet. Vita Luc., 1). As for the emperor himself, it is not entirely clear whether he actually appeared on the public stage. Tacitus seizes the opportunity to offer a characteristic set of antithetic rhetorical arguments pro and contra Nero’s cultural innovations (Ann., 14, 20f.). This deceptive version of the old Greek dissoi logoi, in a semblance of objectivity, attributes the opposing arguments to unspecified spokesmen representing various public attitudes. But he places a clear emphasis, thereby inviting the reader to favor them, on the view of the conservative majority. To give credit to Tacitus for fairness, however, he does not fail to acknowledge that the entire festival proceeded, in fact, without any significant scandal. On the other hand, the involvement of magistrates, the military presence (cf. Tac. Ann., 14, 15; Dio, 61, 20), and the activities of the Augustiani could not but endow Nero’s “spectacles” with the attributes of political harassment. One’s negative, or not emphatically positive, response could easily be construed as a sign of disloyalty or even animus nocendi (cf. Dio, 61, 19, 4). In future, as will be seen, the perils of Nero’s politicized theatrics became greater and greater. It seems that the excitement and the unruly behavior that often accompanied theater and circus performances were responsible for one of the few recorded cases of municipal popular unrest under Nero—the outbreak of violence in AD 49 on the part of the inhabitants of Pompeii against those of the neighboring town of Nuceria (Tac. Ann., 14, 17). There may have been a dissident dimension to the episode. A disgraced senator, one Livineius Regulus, gave the gladiatorial games at Pompeii that provided a pretext for the brawl. He was presumably a person of some note, since it is not the first time that Tacitus mentions him (ibid.). But since his expulsion from the curia was reported in the lost portions of the Annales, it is impossible to determine any dissident background to his earlier impeachment or to his later role in the Pompeii-Nuceria affair. In any case, the matter was delegated by Nero to the Senate and then to the consuls, who found Livineius Regulus and other unspecified persons guilty of fomenting the riots and sentenced them to exile (ibid.). We do not have sufficient evidence to inquire whether these riots were related to sources of popular discontent other than passions aroused by a public spectacle and grudges against a neighboring city.

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III The matter of existimatio acquired great importance in regard to “dynastic dissidents” because public expectations for them became a factor determining their fate. One of the most instructive cases in this respect was that of the earlier mentioned Rubellius Plautus (see pp. 19f.). Tacitus reintroduces him into his narrative in connection with the appearance of a comet in AD 60, perceived by the masses as an omen heralding a change of monarch (Ann., 14, 22; cf. Sen. Quaest. Nat., 7, 21, 2; cf. Stat. Theb., 1, 706), and Rubellius Plautus’ connections with the Iulian family are immediately noted (Ann., loc. cit.). Though he may well have harbored paternum odium at the regime on account of his mother, Iulia, daughter of the younger Drusus and one of Messallina’s victims, and listed among his friends (Tac. Hist., 1, 14) such dissident figures as Piso Licinianus, later sent by Nero into exile, to emerge out of it as Galba’s “four days’ Caesar,” and Cornelius Laco, Galba’s future controversial praetorian pref ect, nothing is reported to signal his involvement in politics. On the contrary, Tacitus follows praise of Rubellius Plautus’ morals with a statement about his particular caution in regard to public affairs, which, however, proved of no avail: “The more he sought to live in obscurity because of his fear, the greater fame he gained” (Ann., loc. cit.). He apparently did not initiate the dangerous talk of the comet and its link to his Imperial prospects “as if Nero were already dethroned” (ibid.). But, unfortunately for him, his dynastic status was so conspicuous that everyone talked about him in that regard (ibid.). After a further “omen”—Nero’s banquet table was struck by lightning (cf. Dio, 61, 16, 5; Philostr. Vita Apol., 4, 43) in the neighborhood of Tibur, where Rubellius Plautus was born—was interpreted in the latter’s interests, he began to be drawn into dangerous politics by the sheer force of public expectations and against his own will: “He was favored by many of those whom avid and usually treacherous ambition impels to seek the most from the changes and uncertainties of power” (Ann., 14, 22). On the other hand, Rubellius Plautus is the first Neronian victim whose personal virtue Tacitus emphasizes and who was, in addition, of Stoic persuasion. It is not, however, his philosophical preferences that attract Tacitus’ attention in the first sketch of the man’s character, but his almost stylized traditionalist posture and rigorous moral commitment: “He himself cultivated what was approved by our ancestors, his bearing was stern, his domestic life chaste and far from the public eye” (ibid.). Attitudes “approved by our ancestors” were synonymous with the mos maiorum, but not necessarily in accord with any specially Stoic concept. The matter of Stoicism, as reflected by Rubellius Plautus and his ilk, will be examined later (see pp. 68f.). But the young man’s moral conservatism was also consonant with his marriage to the daughter of L.Antistis Vetus, himself an important proponent of the “ancestral traditions.” Accordingly, his “stern countenance,” habitus severus, seems more likely to have signified not so much his presumed Stoic way of life as his severitas, a prime Roman virtue, practiced and advocated by many earlier moralists beginning with the elder Cato. It must certainly have been reprehensible in the eyes of such a debauchee as Nero.

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Tacitus’ entire portrayal of Rubellius Plautus’ conduct suggests that he made a conscientious effort to reduce the need for dissimulatio on his part by withdrawing into private life. His meek submission to Imperial orders up to his very execution is strong circumstantial evidence that he was sincere in his abstention from politics. But despite his political passivity, he enjoyed, simply by virtue of his dynastic connections, a position of considerable importance and could not be struck down by one decisive blow, especially since Burrus and Seneca, even though their influence was declining, were still in power. Thus Nero, worried by subversive talk and rumors in regard to Rubellius Plautus and, probably, annoyed by the man’s lifestyle, had to proceed cautiously. At first, he treated him in a manner similar to his treatment, two year’s earlier, of another of his relatives, Faustus Sulla (see p. 31), and quietly sent him into exile. As Tacitus reports (Ann., 14, 22), the emperor wrote advising Rubellius Plautus, in whom he saw a potential troublemaker, “to show his concern for public peace in the city of Rome and put himself beyond the reach of those who perversely defame him,” and suggested that he withdraw to his hereditary estates in Asia “where he would pass the years of his youth safe and undisturbed” (ibid.). Rubellius Plautus complied without protest and withdrew from Rome. Apparently, at that time his presence was deemed less dangerous in Asia than in the capital. But, as in the case of Faustus Sulla, his membership of the Imperial family meant that his mere existence continued to present a threat to the emperor. But dissent was fomented not only in Rome. Nero could feel threatened by military success in the provinces. The year AD 60 witnessed the abortive rebellion in Britain led by Queen Boudicca (Tac. Ann., 31–8; Agr., 15–16; Dio, 62, 7–12) and suppressed by C.Suetonius Paullinus, one of the best generals of the time. The revolt was precipitated by Roman abuse of power. Tacitus, in fact, suggests that it was the rapacity of Nero’s procurator Catus Decianus that caused the outbreak of hostilities (Ann., 14, 22). Dio elaborates (62, 2; cf. 60, 23), informing us that the procurator suddenly revoked and reclaimed the grants of money distributed to the foremost British tribesmen by Claudius and confirmed by the Senate. Dio makes a further revelation: Seneca, he alleges, “in the hope of receiving a good rate of interest, had lent to the islanders forty million sesterces at their request and had afterward called this loan all at once and had resorted to severe measures in exacting it” (ibid.). Dio’s source, for whatever reason, is emphatically anti-Senecan, but the philosopher’s practice of usury is a known fact; and, even if personally uninvolved in financial transactions with the Britons, he must have been at least aware of them by virtue of his position as “minister” to Nero. In any case, the traditional rivalry, if not enmity, between the Imperial legate, that is, the governor, and the Imperial procurator must only have increased the burden laid on the populace (cf. Tac. Ann., 14, 22). The Roman victory was marred for the actual victor. Suetonius Paullinus quarreled with Catus Decianus’ successor, the new Imperial procurator, C.Iulius Alpinus Classicianus, who insisted that his removal was a prerequisite for a true cessation of hostilities. In AD 61 Suetonius Paullinus, of whom Nero had become wary, was removed under some pretext and denied a

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triumph (Ann., 14, 39). (There is not enough evidence to speculate on the character of his dissimulatio and whether he bore a secret grudge against Nero. In any event, Suetonius Paullinus’ eclipse proved temporary. It seems that he received his second consulate in the tragic year AD 66, and upon Nero’s overthrow he is found among Otho’s closest advisors. The story of his ultimate survival is noteworthy: we learn that he was pardoned by Vitellius only after he managed to convince the latter that he had been long guilty of treachery toward Otho. This was, on the part of a military man, a remarkable attempt at apparently false self-incrimination, in Tacitus’ own telling phrase, “a necessary rather than honorable defense” (Hist., 2, 60).) In Britain, Suetonius Paullinus was replaced by Petronius Turpilianus, one of the new pillars of the Neronian regime, now fresh from the consulate. In his treatment of the barbarians Tacitus reveals confused sentiments characteristic of upper-class Roman Imperial dissident intellectuals. There is a touch of social snobbery, and at the same time envy of their freedom (cf., e.g., Ann., loc. cit.). A sort of nostalgia in regard of the “noble savage” underlies much of Tacitus’ Germania, and in the rest of his work it coexists uneasily with f ervent pride in Rome’s civilizing mission, so much a part of the national myth. Because of the conventions of classical historiography, Tacitus can make the elaborate set speeches he occasionally ascribes to barbarian figures serve obliquely as a vehicle for a dissident critique of Roman Imperial society, the emphasis being on the absence of freedom and the moral decadence within its confines (as, for instance, in the passionate oration he attributed to the British chieftain Calgacus (Agr., 30ff.)). A powerful echo of this same stand is manifest in the lengthy oration Dio puts into the mouth of Boudicca herself (62, 3ff.). This is a case of particularly flawed rhetoric in extremis: despite all the seriousness of her subject—a contrast of the corrupt Roman lifestyle with the rustic virtues of the Britons—the barbarian queen’s erudite references to the ancient precedents of rule by women in the persons of the Egyptian Nitocris and the Assyrian Semiramis sound comical. There was an individual of note who received his first taste of battle during the suppression of Boudicca’s revolt and of whom we possess much information owing to the fact that many years later he happened to acquire Cornelius Tacitus as a husband for his daughter. For Tacitus his father-in-law, Cn.Iulius Agricola, whose laudatory biography was his first literary composition, forever remained a shining example of an Imperial statesman to be imitated and emulated. At the same time, it must be acknowledged that the zealous biographer has not entirely succeeded in resolving or reconciling moral contradictions in his subject’s conduct during the course of his distinguished career. Neither has he managed, using his father-in-law’s life as a model, to come up with a satisfactory answer to that perennially tortuous question of whether and how a good man can prosper under evil rule. Owing to his parentage, Agricola had every reason to experience “hereditary hatred” toward the Julio-Claudian rule, which would have automatically made him a dissident. His family was of provincial origin, from Gaul, and his father, L.Iulius Graecinus, the first in his line to enter the Senate, proceeded, after the plebeian

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tribunate, to the praetorship. Learned in rhetoric and practical wisdom (for instance, he wrote on agriculture (Coll., 1, 1, 4)), Iulius Graecinus seems to have been a person of impeccable integrity: Seneca (De Ben., 2, 21, 5) praises him for his refusal to accept beneficia from two men of soiled reputation and attributes his execution (c. AD 39) to his having been “better than a tyrant can afford any man to be” (ibid.). From Agricola’s biographer we learn, however, that his father fell victim to his high moral standards. Ordered by Caligula to undertake the prosecution of M.Junius Silanus, of the ill-fated Silani family, he refused to do so and was put to death (Agr., 4). If Agricola in fact developed, on account of his father’s execution, dissident sensibilities from his early youth, his attempts at dissimulatio were successful. Educated in Massilia (where he probably withdrew in fear) in the proper spirit of the mos maiorum, but with a touch of Greek refinement, the young man conceived an inordinate passion for philosophy, “more than is becoming for a Roman and a senator” (ibid.), and was characteristically restrained by his mother, Iulia Procilla. In a graphically succinct manner the biographer describes the awesome events of Boudicca’s rebellion and his hero’s vicissitudes during his apprenticeship as military tribune under Suetonius Paullinus, “a conscientious and moderate leader” (Agr., 5), who selected him as his lieutenant—in contubernio. There is no way to guess what this promising youth might have felt immediately afterwards when Suetonius Paullinus was removed from office. Tacitus, at any rate, concludes the account of Agricola’s first campaign with a predictable pronouncement: “His mind was overcome with eagerness for military glory, something not welcome in times when men’s achievements are subject to a sinister [the worst possible] interpretation and when a good reputation is no less dangerous than a bad one” (ibid.). Nothing, however, prevented Agricola from embarking upon the customary cursus honorum: he received his quaestorship in Asia in AD 63 (ibid., 63) under the disreputable proconsul L.Salvius Otho Titianus, Otho’s elder brother, and his plebeian tribunate in AD 66 (ibid.). By that time, suggests his biographer, he had learned that “in the times of Nero inertia passed for prudence” (ibid.). Accordingly, his praetorship in AD 67 proved unremarkable; in the conduct of his duties he kept a balance between calculation and liberality. Shortly after, however, the revolution took place, and Agricola’s subsequent career, including his return to Britain and his glorious exploits there under Domitian as well as his ultimate disappointment in Imperial service, are beyond the scope of the present account. IV Nero’s principate witnessed increased tension between the classes. Our knowledge comes from legislative moves by the Senate, apprehensive in regard to the slaves and, in particular, to freedmen. This last issue was aggravated by the expanding power of the Imperial liberti, who seem to have been considered the source of corruption plaguing the rest of the freedman population and, by extension, the entire commonwealth. As early as AD 56 the Senate pressed for passage of a law to

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empower a former owner to re-enslave a freedman who misbehaved (Tac. Ann., 13, 26). The consuls refused to put the motion through without the approval of the emperor, whose opinion they asked for in writing (ibid.). Nero apparently convoked his “privy council,” and in the ensuing discussion the liberal argument won the day: it emphasized the unfairness of imposing a threat of penalty upon a whole class of people for the faults of a few individuals (ibid., 27). In his rescript the emperor advised the Senate that every complaint of a patron against his freedman must be considered on its individual merits and no general rights or privileges were to be abrogated (ibid.). But in the next year, AD 57, the conservatives retaliated by promulgating a decree, “punitive and at once precautionary,” threatening with the death penalty not only all the slaves in the household of an owner assassinated by one of them, but also those who were manumitted in his will but remained under the same roof (ibid., 13, 32). This senatus consultum was put to the test several years later in connection with the Pedanius Secundus affair. At the same time, that debate highlighted certain facets of dissident sensibilities. L.Pedanius Secundus, consul suffectus AD 43 and praefectus urbi under Nero, was murdered in AD 61 by one of his slaves, motivated either by his master’s refusal to emancipate him at a price earlier agreed on or by erotic rivalry with him over a boy (Tac. Ann., 14, 42). According to the “ancient custom” (ibid.), reinforced by the recent senatorial decree, the entire familia—a household of four hundred people (ibid., 43) who were dwelling under the same roof as the victim—was to be executed. But there was an unexpected reaction by the plebs, who in a spontaneous assembly “bent on protecting so many innocents” beseiged the curia in what was interpreted by the senators as a threat of sedition (ibid., 42). This suggests that, even if their sense of elementary justice was outraged, many of the free born but dispossessed now felt that their own lot in life had a closer affinity to the lives of slaves and freedmen. In the Senate itself there was a faction favoring abolition of the inhuman law (Tac. Ann., 42). And, since Nero himself had always been particularly sensitive to any manifestation of popular displeasure, it was conceivable that, though a minority, the liberals, with the support of the emperor, would win. The debate was swayed, however, by a famous lawyer, the fearsome but fascinating C.Cassius Longinus, whose performance revealed an intricate blend of social prejudice and political persuasion. This man was the most prominent proponent under Nero of something akin to the “republicanist” spirit. Clearly, he could not have been truly republicanist in the same sense as Cato, Brutus, or his own direct ancestor Cassius, Caesar’s assassin. But he seems to have been closer to that outdated vision than any of his known contemporaries. No doubt, his genealogy must have played a significant part in shaping his character and behavior. Although Cassius the tyrannicide is rarely mentioned in Neronian literature, one should not underestimate the importance which an Imperial aristocrat attached to the reputation of his ancestors. A mere name could exercise a powerful spell: the superstitious Caligula sensed such a danger and arrested the latter-day Cassius Longinus, then proconsul of Asia, on account, as our

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sources suggest, of his name only (Suet. Cal., 57; Dio, 59, 29, 3). Ironically, he was in fact assassinated by another Cassius, Chaerea, who, though of no distinguished or tyrannicidal ancestry, nonetheless also fell prey to the charm of his family name. Cassius Longinus the lawyer, only because of the timely intervention of this nearhomonym, escaped destruction. It follows that the statue of the tyrannicide, displayed in the lawyer Cassius Longinus’ house and later made the chief pretext for his persecution (Ann., 16, 7), was not only a show-piece (cf. p. 138). On the other hand, whatever importance family traditions and connections might have possessed for individual outlook and conduct, their role was not necessarily decisive. In fact, their descent from a tyrannicide notwithstanding, both the lawyer and his brother married into the dynasty. The latter, L.Cassius Longinus, made the first husband of Drusilla, Caligula’s incestuous sister, becoming a voluntary collaborator with the regime. He even attacked, probably as a delator, Drusus, the son of Germanicus, at Sejanus’ instigation, and after the latter’s destruction he insinuated slanderous stories against Livilla, Tiberius’ daughter-in-law, in obedience to the official line (Ann., 6, 2, 15; Dio, 58, 3, 8). C.Cassius Longinus, even though himself married to Augustus’ descendant Iunia Lepida, chose to avoid the temptation of similar involvement in politics on the side of the regime which would have placed him even closer to the seat of danger. Aware of his predicament, owing to his wife’s kinship, as a “dynastic dissident,” he instead became an “expert in law—the founder and leader of the Cassian school,” as Pliny puts it (Epist., 7, 21; cf. Tac. Ann., 12, 21). A legalistic mind was partly responsible for the affirmation of his attitudes: in that period a committed lawyer would have found it difficult to swallow the proposition, not yet legally formulated but very much in actual operation, that “the Princeps is absolved from every law.” An indirect sign of his dissident political inclinations was the publicity given to his consistently austere lifestyle, associated with the ancient senatorial dignity. His show of dignitas was linked to another old “republicanist” virtue, severitas, exaggerated by him—as in his indictment of Pedanius Secundus’ household—to an appalling extent. In addition, his devotion to “ancient discipline,” traditional in his family (Tac. Ann., 12, 21), was repeatedly stressed (cf. ibid., 13, 41; 48; 15, 52; 16, 7). He was, however, successful in advancing through the regular cursus honorum. Naturally, this required a considerable amount of dissimulatio, perhaps less than in the case of his obsequious brother, but more than, for instance, from Rubellius Plautus who chose to withdraw from politics altogether. First a praetor c. AD 27, the lawyer became consul suffectus in AD 30 and proconsul of Asia in AD 40–1. It was from there that he was recalled by Caligula and barely escaped execution. Three years later, in AD 44, following the death of the King of Judaea, Herod Agrippa I, he was reinstated as legate of Syria by Claudius. There he proceeded to implement his ideas of military discipline by enforcing the ancient mores in his troops (Tac. Ann., 12, 21). At the same time, he was entrusted by the emperor with important diplomatic missions to Parthia (ibid.). He was evidently an expert on the “Oriental Question” and figures prominently in Flavius Josephus’ Antiquitates (15, 406; 20, 1, 7, 11–14).

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Later, in AD 58, the Senate appointed him to pacify a social conflict between the local authorities and the populace of the municipality of Puteoli (Tac. Ann., 13, 48). The nature of the conflict, which was reported as having reached the point of stonethrowing and threats of arson (ibid.), remains obscure, though the events may have been similar to the earlier disturbances between the residents of Nuceria and Pompeii (see p. 44). Cassius Longinus, however, failed to achieve reconciliation, and his failure was attributed to his excessive severitas (ibid.) which by this time had become the chief feature of his personality. With the exception of the weird incident under Caligula, therefore, Cassius Longinus, despite all his admiration for ancient virtues, had so far accommodated to the regime of the emperors. His only previous recorded—though ambiguous— gesture of defiance occurred when the Senate voted a thanksgiving and superfluous honors to Nero after one of Domitius Corbulo’s recurrent successes in the Orient. The adulatio transgressed all bounds. Among the habitual expressions such as thanksgivings, triumphal arches, and new statues of the emperor, the extravagant idea was proposed that “the days on which the victory was achieved, on which it was announced, on which the motion concerning it was introduced, be all included among the national festivals” (Tac. Ann., 13, 41). Cassius Longinus, assenting to everything else, cautiously argued (presumably with reference to ius divinum—“divine law”) that “it is expedient to distinguish between ordinary days and sacred days—in order that men can attend to religious observances without letting their secular affairs suffer as a consequence” (ibid.). This move was in the spirit of Thrasea Paetus, a man of very different disposition. The lawyer was grasping at a chance to reveal his own displeasure without risking the displeasure of the emperor. Further, it is possible that his invective against slaves (and implicitly freedmen) during the debate over the f ate of Pedanius Secundus’ household (leaving aside his display of reactionary nostalgia and deep-seated social prejudice as a slave-master) also served an ulterior purpose. On the surface the issue was politically inoffensive, but it allowed him to make a sharp point: everybody in his audience well knew of the arrogance and influence of the Imperial slaves and freedmen. In this complicated context of court and senatorial politics, his speech, if taken at somewhat more than face value, and assuming sufficient accuracy in Tacitus’ account of it, signaled a variety of messages to those concerned: plea, warning, annoyance, encouragement, intimidation. In the preamble the speaker makes a surprising effort to justify the mere fact of his addressing his audience on this subject—why, though he earlier refrained from such interventions, he chose to break that practice on the present occasion: “I believed that whatever influence I possess should not be destroyed by too frequent protesting; but rather that it should be kept intact for the day the res publica needed sound advice” (Tac. Ann., 14, 43). The meaning is that his influence, auctoritas, should not be wasted on petty issues, but rather directed at something truly essential. Therefore, in this respect Cassius Longinus’ strategy is diametrically opposed to Thrasea Paetus’ “theory of small deeds.” Cassius Longinus made no secret of his “class sentiments,” pointedly

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expressing his hatred and contempt for the slaves. The thrust of his argument is expediency. The ancestors had been entirely correct in assuming that, indiscriminately, all slaves might be preoccupied with nefarious designs (ibid.). Not surprisingly, he proceeds to extol the most barbarous of ancient customs, the military decimatio (execution by lot), as a principle of great moral worth even though the innocent are made to perish with the guilty. And the speech’s conclusion implies that the means are indeed justified by the end: “Every great example carries something of injustice, but an injustice to individuals is vindicated by the community’s advantage” (ibid.). This is said, of course, in the spirit of the traditional Roman ideal of sacrificing everyone and everything to the service of the civitas, an ideal that is tantamount to virtus as a whole. But it seems ironical that relativism is here preached by a man who is a moral absolutist by temperament. Cassius Longinus’ speech betrays an excessive cruelty not uncommon for the champions of mos maiorum—a somewhat frightening aspect of the dissident paradox. At the same time, the upper-class fear of slaves was not entirely paranoid. It was, for instance, three years later, in AD 64, that a revolt of the gladiators threatened the city of Praeneste. The outbreak was suppressed by the local garrison, but not before, Tacitus tells us, “Spartacus and the ills of an earlier time were already the subject of rumors, the populace being as it always is at once eager for and fearful of the looming revolution” (Ann., 15, 46). It is instructive, however, to compare Seneca’s attitude toward slavery, as found in his writings, with the view developed by Cassius Longinus. It is clear from Tacitus that the murdered prefect, Pedanius Secundus, was not an exemplary person. In this regard, it is pertinent to note that the whole episode must have been related to an important legal precedent, by which Augustus reached the opposite decision, having exercised both clementia and humanitas. Augustus pardoned the slaves who murdered one Hostius Quadra on the grounds of the latter’s bizarre sexual activities and pronounced their victim to have suffered a just penalty (Sen. Quaest. Nat., 1, 16). As mentioned earlier, the assassination of Pedanius Secundus may also have been caused by homosexual rivalry. Augustus’ judgment must have been in the minds of at least some senators in AD 61 when the case of Pedanius Secundus was debated, certainly in the mind of lawyer Cassius Longinus and in the mind of the philosopher Seneca, since he reported it. Here the question must be asked: what was Seneca’s own stand regarding that entire affair? Was he listed among those who protested in “dissonant voices” against the “excessive severity” and commiserated with the condemned, most of them clearly innocent (cf. Tac. Ann., 42)? A strong feeling that he did not comes from Tacitus’ insistence that nobody stood up to contradict this harsh speaker, who must have dominated the scene (ibid.). Seneca was, of course, the most likely candidate to deliver a rebuttal. This, however, does not necessarily mean that he joined the majority, and there is even less reason to suppose that he advised the emperor concerning his final decision to execute the slaves and spare the freedmen. The principal message of Seneca’s De Clementia is that innocents should not suffer and even

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the guilty should be treated with moderation. Thus it would be unwarranted to assume that the philosopher must have been behind Nero’s decision to authorize the majority verdict. This, however, does not exonerate him from a charge of compliance, if not cowardice. After having made his very liberal attitude toward slaves perfectly clear in many passages of his writings, he chose not to intervene on an occasion when his theories could have been implemented and when he still exercised at least some influence in the government. Here Seneca again indulged in his characteristic moral ambiguity and opportunism. His motives, although no less opportunistic than ever, hardly related to his fading influence with Nero, who was also not eager to order this particular massacre. Rather, Seneca must have been concerned this time with senatorial existimatio, that is, with his own image in the minds of the members of the curia. The issue was too controversial and passions running too high for him to risk taking a definite stand. The majority verdict, by the way, demonstrates that humanitarianism toward slaves, fashionable as it had been, was, nonetheless, never a primary consideration, and this double standard is yet another ambiguous aspect of the Roman mentality in the Imperial age. Exactly how Seneca managed to avoid offering his own sententia on the issue, we may only speculate. It is difficult to picture him present in the curia and keeping silent or hastily joining “dissonant voices” of disapproval. But it may be easily imagined that he simply failed to attend the meeting, giving as his excuse his poor health, as was to become his constant habit in the near future (cf. Tac. Ann., 14, 58; 15, 45). This would explain the absence of any reference to him in Tacitus’ account. But it was to the credit of the Roman plebs that the crowds continued to demonstrate, even threatening violence, against the death sentence for members of the prefect’s household (Ann., 14, 45). Nero, pressured by the senatorial majority’s decree, published an edict reprimanding his subjects and had to post military guards to prevent a popular outburst on the route the condemned were to take to their execution. But characteristically he vetoed the initiative of one Cingonius Varro who, in the wake of the reactionaries’ victory, suggested that even freedmen who lived with their murdered master should be deported from Italy. This response, moreover, earned Nero one of Tacitus’ rare commendations, since he intervened “lest further savagery aggravate the severity of an ancient custom which mercy had been unable to mitigate” (ibid.). No less remarkable is Tacitus’ later allegation that, together with “ancient wealth” (Ann., 16, 7), it was Cassius Longinus’ “gravity [uprightness] of character” (gravitas morum) which caused the great lawyer’s ultimate downfall, although, as will be shown, that was an outcome of much more complicated circumstances. V The flow of dramatic events in Tacitus’ narrative is interrupted by the obituary of P.Memmius Regulus, consul suffectus AD 31, who died at the end of AD 61. The encomiastic language of the obituary is not accidental: the deceased is praised for

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having been “a man of exceptional authority, steadfastness and glory—to the extent that such is possible in the shadow of Imperial eminence” (Ann., 14, 47). What is implied here is the historian’s major preoccupation—the predicament of that category of public figures whose honesty he considered exemplary under “evil rule” (cf., e.g., Ann., 4, 20), men capable of preserving both personal integrity, dignitas, and a commitment to official duty, that is, to civitas. This naturally presupposed their ability to harmonize personal commitments and what was politically expedient, that is, dissimulatio with the aim not only of physical but moral survival as well. It might equally have been Tacitus’ own program, and it required a variety of devices for psychological accommodation. The uneasy coexistence of this aspiration with the constant threat of failure and the never resolved conflict between the two dramatically pervade much of his biography of Agricola, the model Imperial official. Men of the same mold, such as M.Aemilius Lepidus, under Tiberius, A.Marius Celsus in the year of the four emperors, and, of course, Burrus, are examples that he particularly approves of. In Tacitus’ eyes, Memmius Regulus is also an eminent member of this same group. In a manner that recalls M.Aemilius Lepidus’ alleged evaluation by Augustus (cf. Tac. Ann., 1, 13), Memmius Regulus was judged by Nero himself, in his hour of illness, as worthy to be his successor (ibid., 14, 47). But there is a fine and yet revealing distinction between Tacitus’ commendations conferred upon the two men who lived in the earlier and later years of the Julio-Claudian period. In his eulogy of M.Aemilius Lepidus, Tacitus emphasizes his beneficial activity in restraining violence and resisting terror: “For in many instances he deflected the adulatory savagery of others into better channels” (ibid., 4, 20). In the case of Memmius Regulus, on the contrary, his inaction, to which he owed his survival, is appreciated. This shift of Tacitus’ emphasis reflects the greater paralysis of the dissident will toward the end of the period, and with good reason. If nothing dishonorable is found in our sources in regard to Aemilius Lepidus’ conduct, this was not the case with Memmius Regulus. In the year of his consulship he made a by no means innocuous attempt to impeach his colleague Fulcinius Trio by implicating him in the conspiracy of Sejanus (Tac. Ann., 5, 11). But it was Memmius Regulus’ meek surrender in AD 39 of his fabulously rich bride, Lollia Paullina, to Caligula that created a society scandal: we are told that following the emperor’s order he personally brought her to the court and betrothed her to him so that Caligula “should not break the law by taking her without any betrothal” (Dio, 59, 12, 1; cf. Suet. Cal., 25). Tacitus realized the extent of the dissimulatio Memmius Regulus practiced in order to ensure a peaceful death in his own bed, which accounts for a touch of bitterness in a final comment: “He lived, however [tamen vixit], protected by his inaction, and because he belonged to a recently ennobled family; nor was his estate large enough to provoke envy” (Ann., 14, 47). Thus, in retrospect, the entire paragraph on Memmius Regulus’ “exemplary” career seems ambivalently to reflect upon Tacitus’ treatment of the events immediately following: Thrasea Paetus’ intercession on behalf of the troublemaking Antistius Sosianus and the sad end of another model Imperial officer, Burrus.

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It was at the beginning of AD 62, when the ailing Burrus and Seneca were still holding on to the remnants of their former influence, that the maiestas law, officially dormant following the murder of Caligula (cf. Tac. Ann., 14, 48), was revived for one of the most interesting dissident trials, the prosecution of Antistius Sosianus. It turned into a cause célèbre and probably even found its way into the rhetorical textbooks. Antistius Sosianus was, in fact, that same plebeian tribune of AD 56 who had quarreled with the praetor Vibullius, thus causing the Senate to act as if the preAugustan Republic were still in existence (see pp. 21f.). His defeat, however, did not change his character. A thin veneer of dissimulatio having been stripped away, Antistius Sosianus revealed a penchant for scandal and anger—regarding not only the Senate that had humiliated him but evidently also the emperor who had allowed his humiliation. Now in the year of his praetorship his lack of prudence put him in real danger. He wrote libellous poems on Nero and recited them in public at a dinner given by the respectable senator M.Ostorius Scapula (ibid.). What the contents of these satirical poems were we cannot know; they hardly pertained to the emperor’s artistic exploits, otherwise Antistius Sosianus would not have got off so lightly. In any case, this was an openly dissident gesture, performed within a narrow dissident environment, and it means that there was a secret informer at Ostorius Scapula’s party or among the members of his circle. However, it is not necessary to assume that Nero himself instigated Antistius Sosianus’ prosecution, although rumors were spread that he did so in order to create an opportunity for a subsequent display of clemency (ibid.). The official prosecutor was the notorious delator Cossutianus Capito, recently restored to the curia through the increased influence of his father-in-law, the objectionable Tigellinus (ibid.), who was soon to become praetorian prefect, and in whose interests he may have been acting. On the other hand, the entire sequence of events, including Cossutianus Capito’s rehabilitation, betrays a considerable decrease in Burrus’ and Seneca’s impact on current affairs. Antistius Sosianus’ host, Ostorius Scapula, behaved gallantly—he said that he had heard nothing—but was not believed (ibid.). Thereupon the consul-elect Q.Iunius Marullus proposed the death penalty “according to ancestral customs” (ibid.), that is, by flogging and subsequent decapitation. In such a context, the reference to mos maiorum must have sounded at least to some ears inadvertently ironical. We would not know Nero’s immediate reaction to this but for the timely intervention of Thrasea Paetus. The latter could not have felt any sympathy for the defendant, in his eyes an unsavory character meddling with magisterial authority and thereby infringing dignitas senatus. However, there was a more important issue involved: a new precedent of an individual, however worthless, suffering execution on the capital charge of maiestas (cf. Dio, 62, 15, If.) must not be created. Thrasea Paetus’ “legalism” made a logical counterpart to his “constitutionalism.” He and his peers were convinced that enforcement of the maiestas law in itself had a vast potential for moral corruption. They assumed it would provide prosperity for the delatores, who by the very nature of their profession were immoral and a force destructive of the entire social fabric (cf.

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Tac. Ann., 1, 72–4; 4, 34ff.). In addition, Thrasea Paetus was also concerned with the idea of this case as an exemplum for future generations. Thus he chose the lesser of two evils. Furthermore, one cannot rule out a genuine humanitarian concern on his part. There is no reason to distrust the younger Pliny’s description of him as the “mildest of men,” and in real life he seems to have been truly likeable and benign. Finally, the personality of Antistius Sosianus’ prosecutor might have contributed to his decision to intervene: it must be recalled that Thrasea Paetus himself had been instrumental in Cossutianus Capito’s earlier impeachment. Although it was clear that on the motion of the consul the Senate felt prepared to inflict the proposed penalty upon the defendant, Thrasea Paetus addressed his colleagues with a plea for clemency and won the day. His performance on that occasion must have been a memorable event, reflected both in the senatorial proceedings and in later Stoic martyrologies. Consequently, it seems likely that, in substance, Tacitus’ rendering of his speech is authentic. Thrasea Paetus’ actual argument ran against the traditional notion of severitas and strikingly resembled the ideas developed by Seneca in De Clementia. To achieve his aim, he displayed a pragmatic flexibility, even indulging in many compliments to Nero (Tac. Ann., 14, 48). At the same time, he demonstrated little of the consistency to be expected in standard conservative behavior. In fact, on this occasion he explicitly repudiated the infallibility of the mos maiorum, appealing at the same time to the spirit of enlightenment: Although a guilty defendant merits it, he need not suffer [the proposed punishment] when such an excellent Princeps reigns and when [punishment is imposed] by a Senate operating free of all constraint. The executioner and the hangman’s noose [technically demanded by the mos maiorum] were things long in oblivion; there are legally constituted penalties by which justice could be done without judicial savagery or bringing infamy on our age. Deprived of his property and exiled to a far-off island, the criminal would be more wretched in his private life the longer he dragged out his guilty existence, at the same time providing for the future a most splendid example of public clemency. (ibid.) Although this speech contained an oblique allusion to the terror under Nero’s predecessors, the point was made: the brutal punishments of the type prescribed in the XII Tables belonged to the past. This was the view that Trajan would later insist upon in his famous exchange with the younger Pliny on the subject of the Christians: any practices unbecoming to “our enlightened era” must be abandoned (Epist., 10, 97). Here we can see that the concept of “ideology” as a self-contained and consistent set of views is inapplicable to the Roman Imperial scene. When needed, a professed and confirmed conservative, such as Thrasea Paetus, was prepared to offer an emphatically liberal argument. Moreover, he deliberately made it similar to the argument attributed by Sallust (Cat., 51) to the radical Julius Caesar against Cato, the

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Stoic and conservative saint, during their debate on the fate of the Catilinarian conspirators. This was known to Thrasea Paetus’ audience, allowing him to evoke even the founder of the dynasty in support of his plea. Thrasea Paetus’ stand, at the same time humanistic and legalistic, impressed his audience, and his appeal for moderation contrasted with Cassius Longinus’ fierce denunciation of slaves. Tacitus explicitly says: “Thrasea Paetus’ display of freedom of spirit put an end to the servility of the rest” (Ann., 14, 49). The senators, with very few exceptions (among them the sycophant and future emperor, A.Vitellius), supported Thrasea Paetus’ motion. But the consuls, habitually fearful, remained unaffected and declined to authorize the majority decree sentencing Antistius Sosianus, not to death, but to confiscation of his property and exile. Having informed the emperor of the results of the senatorial vote, they requested his approval. It seems that Nero was embarrassed, if not indignant, at the proceedings (ibid.) and, one may assume, at the way Thrasea Paetus participated in them. We learn of his final, somewhat confused, reaction from his official letter to the Senate, quoted (probably verbatim) by Tacitus: Without any injurious provocation, Antistius had subjected the Princeps to the gravest of insults. The fathers [senators] demanded vengeance for this act, and it was proper that the punishment imposed be in proportion to the magnitude of the offense. He, however, though he would have intervened against a severe verdict on their part, did not impose any bar on their moderation. Let them decide as they wish: even acquittal was an option. (ibid., 49) Given the realities of the senatorial jurisdiction, the last phrase appears tinged with sarcasm. Whatever Nero’s anticipation of the affair’s outcome, he felt cheated: if he had actually planned, by a generous gesture, to promote his popularity, he was forestalled by the senatorial decree mitigating the death sentence to banishment to an island; if, on the contrary, he had secretly looked forward to the execution of an impudent poetaster, by the same decree he was also deprived of that pleasure. In addition, the episode revealed insufficient desire, or ability, on the part of the senators to divine their master’s will and comply. At the same time Nero’s eventual authorization of the senatorial vote he had inspired amounted to a personal triumph for Thrasea Paetus: it proved the workability of his “theory of small deeds” and enhanced his already considerable influence in the curia (cf. ibid.). But in spite of Thrasea Paetus’ victory, the trial itself had already sown the seeds of destruction. The precedent of prosecution on a maiestas charge was now re-established, and very shortly the infamous law would turn, in Nero’s hands, into no less an effective and terrifying weapon than it had been in the worst days of Tiberius. As for Antistius Sosianus, this trial was not the end of his peculiar career, and we will hear of him later (see pp. 144f.).

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As if offering a parallel to Antistius Sosianus’ story, Tacitus next introduces one A. [Didius Gallus] Fabricius Veiento, who was an important individual not so much in the Neronian as in the Flavian period, when he was to become three times consul and one of the pillars of the regime, admired and hated as a brilliant orator and delator. Already as praetor, Dio informs us (61, 6), he had displayed strength of character, having handled with real ingenuity some malcontent horsebreeders and charioteers who were unwilling to cooperate in the games of which he was in charge. He disposed of the troublemakers by having dogs trained to draw the chariots instead of horses. Tacitus tells us about more exciting, and subversive, literary activities. Fabricius Veiento, as it turned out, had written many libellous things about senators and priests in a work to which he gave the title Codicilli (“Codicils” or “Testaments”) (Ann., 14, 50)—the title may indicate that the satire was stylized as a testamentary document. Subsequently, he was prosecuted by one Tullius Geminus (possibly identical with the suffect consul Terentius Tullius Geminus) who charged him in addition with bribery, that is, trading in Imperial favors and the right to occupy public office (ibid.). It is owing to this latter charge, it is said, that Nero personally took over the trial, convicted the defendant, banished him from Italy, and ordered the burning of his books, which as a result began to enjoy a sudden underground popularity (ibid.). Not very much can be made of this report, which nonetheless possesses two fascinating features: Fabricius Veiento’s closeness to Nero, and the way in which his writings circulated as a sort of Roman “samizdat.” What were the contents of Veiento’s Codicilli? Who in fact was satirized there? These matters cannot be established with any accuracy. His could have been satirical verses like those of Persius or even Juvenal, but perhaps with the real names of the characters introduced, following the usage of Lucilius. Or his writings could have been “Menippaean prose,” after the pattern of the Apocolocyntosis, and thus replete with fairly transparent innuendo. There is something disturbing in Tacitus’ account. What actually prompted Nero’s drastic judicial action? At a time when Burrus and Seneca were losing their grip on the government and Tigellinus was ascending, could he really have become so annoyed with someone guilty of “trading in Imperial favors and the right to occupy public office” as to impose upon him such a severe punishment rather than merely the customary “renunciation of friendship”? Or was he, in good faith, protecting the senators from being satirized? This hardly seems likely, especially after the recent scandal with Antistius Sosianus—unless the targets belonged to the pauci et validi, friends of the regime. Was Nero intending to introduce a precedent? But this kind of precedent—both the book-burning and the punishment of their author—existed as early as the time of Augustus. If his point were merely to reinforce these precedents, the sentence still seems excessively severe. As for burning books, the last recorded instance, under Tiberius, involved no less a person than the “last republicanist,” the historian Cremutius Cordus, who had found an antagonist in the powerful Sejanus (Tac. Ann., 4, 34ff.; Dio, 57, 24, 3; Suet. Tib., 61; Sen. Ad Marc., 1, 3). It has been suggested that Fabricius Veiento in his satires had profaned some of the secret sacred rites

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and that Nero took this as a personal affront, but this conjecture seems far-fetched. Still, it is not altogether impossible that Nero for some reason could have found the contents of the “Codicils” personally offensive. At this stage in his turbulent career, Fabricius Veiento seems an interesting case of the one who combined in his person both dissident and opportunist. On the one hand, contemptuous of the senatorial establishment, and, on the other, evidently skeptical of the achievements of the reign hailed by many as the beginning of a Golden Age, he seems in fact to have played with fire, teasing Nero, whose friend he was taken to be, in the audacious spirit of a Vestinus Atticus (cf. pp. 120f.) or a Petronius Arbiter, and, at the same time, making the best profit from the association with him. Owing to luck or temperament, Fabricius Veiento managed to outlive the “artistic tyrant” and to learn a bitter lesson from his own downfall. Looking almost like a later edition of Suillius Rufus, this man of cynicism, resentment, and venomous tongue returned under the new dynasty, and in the reign of Domitian proceeded to take vengeance upon his senatorial colleagues (cf. Epit. de Caes., 12, 5). An accomplished master of dissimulatio, he not only survived Domitian’s assassination, but succeeded in finding favor with Nerva, whose intimate dinner parties he was privileged to attend (cf. Plin. Epist., 4, 22) and whose earlier career, one may suspect, had not differed much from his own. It thus seems appropriate and instructive to contrast the fate of the budding satirist Fabricius Veiento with that of one of a very different temperament, A.Persius Flaccus, whose literary work is still extant and who died at the age of twenty-eight towards the end of the same year, AD 62. He was born at Volterra, in Etruria, into an equestrian family, although he was, in his biographer’s words, “connected with men of senatorial order by blood and marriage” (Vita, 6). The external evidence leaves no doubt as to his dissident sympathies. The anonymous Vita, rich in evidence, is an adequate witness for this. The social and cultural ambience of Persius’ youth was colored by a number of personalities who were either disaffected by the status quo, even if their feelings were concealed at present and would be revealed only in the future, or who were (at least potentially) suspect in the eyes of the authorities and frowned upon by them. His earliest instructors (ibid., 12f.) were the grammarians Q.Remmius Palaemon, publicly disapproved of, though on moral, not political, grounds, by both Tiberius and Claudius (Suet. De Gramm., 23)—but for the Romans, as we know, moral and political issues could be intimately linked—and the famous rhetor Verginius Flavus who, years later, was exiled by Nero in connection with the Pisonian conspiracy (see p. 125). Two major influences on the future satirist were those of Annaeus Cornutus—possibly a freedman of Seneca’s family, the Annaei—a professional teacher of philosophy and yet another eventual victim of Neronian repression (see pp. 150f.), who introduced Persius to Stoicism at the age of sixteen (Vita, 15f.), and Thrasea Paetus himself, whose wife’s distant relative Persius was, and with whom he was intimate, as is shown by the fact that he later became his traveling companion (ibid., 34ff.). The poet’s deep affection and gratitude to Annaeus Cornutus is movingly revealed in both the content and the tone of the fifth satire (Sat., 5, 21ff.), and it was in his school that he presumably met another prodigy, Lucan, still very young but with an innate literary

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talent, and won his admiring enthusiasm by the recitation of his own poetic compositions (Vita., 24ff.). At some later point Persius made the acquaintance of Lucan’s uncle Seneca, but was unimpressed by him (ibid., 27f.), which is probably not surprising: the members of Thrasea Paetus’ entourage could well have resented what they saw as the philosopher’s excessive opportunism. In contrast to Lucan, Persius is not known to have held any office, and in his entire corpus there is not a single line that can be construed as approval, genuine or hypocritical, of the status quo. This suggests that his abstention from any participation in public life was firm and deliberate, so that dissimulatio by him was hardly needed. One may speculate that he chose a pattern of what can be called cultural idealism as a means of accommodation to reality. If so, he may have believed, like Maternus in Tacitus’ Dialogus, that his satirical poetry possessed enough emotional power in its criticism of the corrupt ways of his contemporaries to effect their eventual improvement. He left his main work unfinished and unpublished. There is, however, a curious piece of evidence (Vita, 51ff.) that after Persius’ early death Annaeus Cornutus, who together with the poet Caesius Bassus acted as his literary executor, advised his mother to destroy his juvenilia, among them a play—praetexta, a travelogue, and a verse encomium of the elder Arria, Thrasea Paetus’ mother-in-law, famous for her suicide pact with her husband, the rebel Caecina Paetus (see p. 31). It could be argued that the reason for Annaeus Cornutus’ suggestion was the artistic immaturity of these writings. At the same time, the proposed destruction of these texts seems both unnecessary and incongruous; on account of artistic shortcomings, they could certainly have been left unpublished, but that should not have warranted actual annihilation of works one might have expected would have been kept as precious memorabilia for the family. In fact, each of the three compositions just mentioned could conceivably have been endowed with animus nocendi. The praetexta’s title in the manuscripts makes no sense to us and is a result of textual corruption, but almost any topic from Roman republican history could easily have supplied the youthful author of the play with politically subversive material; Persius’ early and life-long Stoic commitment (his library is reported to have contained about seven hundred volumes of Chrysippus (ibid., 43ff.)) makes it very likely that he would have chosen to treat such a subject along lines not unlike Maternus’ Cato from Tacitus’ Dialogus (see pp. xxxif.). The travelogue could, at least in part, pertain to his travels with Thrasea Paetus, whose vicissitudes shortly after Persius’ death became perilous enough for Annaeus Cornutus to want the text suppressed. As for the poem on the elder Arria, its intent was obvious: a celebration not merely of an innocent victim of the Imperial terror, but of a heroic suicide performed by the wife of a man who actually participated in Camillus Scribonianus’ insurrection against Claudius. This would hardly have been tolerated by the government. Conspirators or insurgents against whatever emperor could be panegyrized if they themselves reached power, but not otherwise. All these considerations enable us to place the young satirist firmly in the context of the “moral opposition.” And Persius himself seems to have taken seriously the

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militant moralism of his œuvre. Condemnation of the vices of specific individuals could be professed to be universal or typical, which allowed a satirist a greater degree of impunity than other writers. Self-respect would prevent anyone on whom the shoe might fit, whether he was the author’s intended victim or only imagined himself to be so, from manifesting any signs of displeasure for fear of self-identification and consequent ridicule. A dangerous conclusion, whether implied or not, that the blame for universal corruption should be placed upon the vicious practices of the supreme authorities is never openly spelled out by Persius the satirist. Nonetheless, his work allowed Roman readers an interplay of various conjectures. This must modify one’s immediate impression that the six satires are literary artefacts far removed from the problems of real life and reveal next to nothing about the author’s or his contemporaries’ political and dissident predicament. However, only the first satire can be construed as an idiosyncratic, thinly disguised mask—by means of the dominant metaphor, which identifies sexual profligacy with literary decadence—on the public and private preoccupations of the socialite and literati members of Nero’s own camarilla; it culminates in a passage imitating, in a hilarious manner, the themes, fashions, and contrivances of the “modernist” poetry of the time. Persius is the only dissident writer whose work is extant who was not physically destroyed by Nero. He was fortunate to die, from natural causes, before the reign of terror reached its peak, although there is a belief that he might have been poisoned by Nero. There is no way to predict how Persius would have behaved if he had lived till the exposure and aftermath of the Pisonian conspiracy, when many of his friends or acquaintances, and among them men so close to him as Thrasea Paetus and Annaeus Cornutus, were to be exterminated or exiled. An untimely death spared him the excruciating moral choices the majority of Neronian victims were to confront. VI The death of Burrus and Seneca’s retirement from active public life signaled the end of the “constitutionalist” phase of Nero’s reign, a period characterized by the emperor’s observance of such proprieties as outwardly benevolent attitudes, a pretense of cooperation with the Senate, and, by and large, abstention from terrorist policies. Despite all this, the two ministers must eventually have recognized the failure of their efforts both at Nero’s moral improvement and at the improvement of his statesmanship: the regime was slowly but firmly descending into moral and political deterioration (cf. Tac. Ann., 14, 51), and the revival of the maiestas law at the trial of Antistius Sosianus was a clear sign that Burrus and Seneca would be defeated. Burrus finally proved less flexible than Seneca. While the latter never entered into an open confrontation with Nero, Burrus came close. The remark which Tacitus later attributes to Tigellinus on the prefect’s allegedly “divergent commitments,” diversas spes (Ann., 14, 57), betrays awareness of the depth of Burrus’ dissimulatio. As with several other collaborators, the lifelong attempt to find an accommodation with reality ended in collapse. At some point he decided that any further outrage in the

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Imperial family was intolerable, and up to the very end adamantly opposed Nero’s plan to divorce his legal spouse, Octavia, so that he could marry his mistress Poppaea Sabina (Dio, 62, 13). While Burrus lived and Seneca still possessed some influence, Poppaea Sabina’s fortunes were not any better than they had been earlier when she had lived under Agrippina’s watchful eye. Dio relates a story—absent in Tacitus—that makes Burrus’ behavior seem almost heroic. During the debate with Nero over his projected divorce from Octavia, he says that at one point Burrus exclaimed, “Well, then, give her back her dowry,” by which he meant Nero’s sovereignty (ibid.). The anecdote at least reflects the popular perception of the growing tension between the emperor and his praetorian prefect. That there was such a perception is confirmed by Tacitus who reports a bitter exchange. Having fallen sick and being visited by Nero, Burrus “averted his gaze, and when the Emperor asked him how he was, barely replied: ‘I am keeping myself well’ [ego me bene habeo]”(Ann., 14, 51). From that scene Tacitus infers that Burrus must have realized that he had been poisoned, and, if Dio’s story about Burrus’ spectacular defiance of Nero’s plans contains any truth, the prefect’s death by murder cannot be ruled out. An attempt at a synoptic view of Burrus’ career must not, however, overlook the modern argument, which tends to equate, in regard to their moral qualities, two customarily contrasted groups of people: the loyalist Imperial officials, of whom the prefect was an eminent example, and the Imperial henchmen, such as the delatores, seen as their opponents. It is claimed that our authorities, and Tacitus in particular, are so biased that they favorably distort the portraits of the former and heavily malign the latter. It is true that systematic study of the cursus honorum of the members of the two groups reveals little difference in their success in making their careers. Every typical representative of the multi bonique—L.Antistius Vetus, C.Cassius Longinus, Thrasea Paetus himself, Suetonius Paullinus, Domitius Corbulo—did in fact hold important governmental offices. Very much like hatred of the dynasty on the part of the opposition, cooperation with the regime also became, even if only in some measure, hereditary—largely within the families of homines novi, owing to the emperors’ position as their patrons and benefactors, but also among members of old patrician clans like the Calpurnii or the Valerii. Tacitus’ own father-in-law, Agricola, as mentioned earlier (see p. 48), also quietly and successfully began to promote himself under Nero; the “impeccable” Memmius Regulus tried hard to impeach his own colleague in the aftermath of Sejanus’ conspiracy; and examples of opportunism and moral misconduct on the part of Burrus have already been noted. The point, however, should not be pressed too far. Despite the precarious balance of fine moral distinctions, the line of demarcation between the two types of behavior is clear. Burrus and his kind, in their struggles and compromises, were still to a large extent motivated by traditional commitments to the service of civitas; their professed goals often went beyond private interests and were positive and constructive. Among other things, notwithstanding their abilities for dissimulatio, there was a limit to the compromise they felt prepared to accept, and Nero knew this. It was, therefore, only

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logical that a number of them fell victim to him. This is why close scrutiny of Tacitus’ statement that “there can be great men [citizens] even under evil emperors” (Agr., 42) exposes it as invalid and an expression of wishful thinking. In this respect, Dio’s formulation on the subject of Burrus’ and Seneca’s goals while still in power is adequate and more honest: “[They] were satisfied if they might manage it with moderation and still preserve their lives” (61, 7). The same is not true of the delatores or the court schemers whose energy was directed inwards and whose goal was selfaggrandizement at any cost, leading inevitably to nihilism and destruction. This last type of careerist started to dominate the court scene after Burrus’ death (cf. Tac. Ann., 14, 52), and found clearest expression in the character and activities of Ofonius Tigellinus, one of his two successors. “His parentage was obscure, his youth obscene, and his old age impudent,” Tacitus wrote of Tigellinus in his earlier work (Hist., 1, 72), and all our sources concur in support of this scathing judgment (e.g., Dio, 62, 15; 62, 12f.; Plut. Gal., 17; Juv., 1, 155). Curiously, he started his career as a “sexual dissident” and in AD 39 was exiled by Caligula for adultery with Agrippina (Dio, 59, 23, 9)—a mirror image of Seneca’s impeachment two years later. Upon his recall under Claudius, he may have avoided the court until the latter’s death, but thereafter rapidly grew in power, acquiring offices, in Tacitus’ words, “by vices rather than virtues since it was quicker” (Hist., 1, 72): he was appointed praefectus vigilum possibly at Agrippina’s request, and acquired enough influence to restore his son-inlaw Cossutianus Capito to the curia. He found a kindred soul in Poppaea Sabina and allied with her to the detriment of the government. The forces of good, Tacitus complains, suffered a defeat (Ann., 14, 52). This led to Seneca’s painful retirement. It should, however, be made clear at the start that in one chief respect his conduct differed markedly from that of Thrasea Paetus. When the latter made his démarche in the curia, which was followed by his gradual secessio (see p. 40), he did not do so in response to any threat or as an attempt to anticipate an inevitable downfall. Up to that moment his position appeared to be secure. His action, therefore, was caused by a sense of moral outrage and not by pragmatic considerations. Seneca’s predicament at the point of his withdrawal from politics was different: “The death of Burrus crippled Seneca’s power [influence]” (ibid.). This is understandable: the remaining “minister” no longer enjoyed the unquestioned support of the praetorian guard. Tigellinus and unspecified worthies launched a campaign of slander against Seneca with emphasis on his enormous wealth and his increasing popularity with the masses. Tacitus’ description makes this campaign look like a calculated psychological attack on Nero, furthered by an allegation that Seneca was set on eclipsing the literary achievements of the emperor and by a sycophantic insinuation that the latter was mature enough not to need a schoolmaster any more. Seneca quickly learned through his well-wishers (ibid., 53) of the new development and made a first move to anticipate any impending trouble and to salvage what could still be saved. By offering his fortune to Nero and asking him to grant his retirement, he meant to prove that the many scornful pronouncements in his writings on the worthlessness of wealth had by no means been hollow phrases. At

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least in the Tacitean rendering of this part of the story, he offers his tremendous property with what seems an easy grace: “Give the order for my property to be administered by your procurators and to be made part of your estate” (ibid., 54). Should we take this extraordinary statement at face value? Or was it Seneca’s intention merely to disarm his calumniators who were described as whispering into the emperor’s ear that his former tutor “outdid even the Princeps himself in the attractiveness of his gardens and the magnificence of his villas” (ibid., 52). Or was he convinced that Nero, despite temptation, would inevitably reject his offer? Given Nero’s capricious and unpredictable character, this last was far from certain. On the other hand, common sense told the emperor that to accept Seneca’s gift would, first, create a scandal (cf. ibid., 56) and, second, would bestow upon Seneca the reputation of a martyred saint. If calculation played a role in Seneca’s offer, that does not exclude the possibility that he was capable of a genuine act. In his finest moment, when he had to die, he behaved precisely as he preached. His motivation in offering his fortune to the “artistic tyrant” may have been mixed, but it gave him satisfaction to have conducted himself in accordance with his professed doctrine. The dialogue between Seneca and Nero, imaginatively reconstructed by Tacitus (Ann., 14, 53–6), belongs to that writer’s most masterful passages and offers a counterpoint to several motifs in his œuvre. For a reader aware of future developments, it creates a unique feeling of suspense. If one assumes that Tacitus’ version of this conversation reflects the actual exchange and was based on Seneca’s own lost writings or on a valid tradition from within his circle, one has to decide whether the impression of a cat-and-mouse game was deliberately created by the historian for dramatic purposes or whether the emperor had already resolved to destroy his former mentor. Prima facie, cherishing a secret grudge year after year was better suited to an Augustus or a Tiberius than to Nero. If so, nothing more than polite mockery should be read into Nero’s congratulatory refusal of Seneca’s generous offer. Tacitus’ rendering of the episode cannot be treated as a genuine Senecan text or testimony; but if it is reliable in its main points, this account directs attention to the historical parallels Seneca allegedly proffered in order to justify his request to retire: Agrippa and Maecenas, allegedly allowed by Augustus to withdraw to private life (Tac. Ann., 53). If the philosopher did in fact draw on these examples, it was a typical conceit betraying his double-think. From his own work one knows how ill Seneca thought of Maecenas (cf., e.g., Epist., 114). It is true that he admired Agrippa, but the reference to the latter’s temporary retirement to Mytilene is, at the very least, inaccurate. The Tacitean exchange seems replete with hints and allusions intelligible, if not to the participants alone, then at most to a select audience of the initiated. There could, conceivably, have been some message Seneca was trying to communicate to Nero by means of these exempla, but that remains unclear. Tacitus’ portrayal of their momentous conversation reveals the ingenious dissimulatio practiced on both sides. Not content merely to imply this in the way he presents the conversation, the historian pointedly comments on the psychology behind the behavior of each: “He [Nero], created by nature and trained by habit to conceal his

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hatred with deceptive blandishments, proceeded with an embrace and kisses; Seneca, as was appropriate at the end of a conversation with the powerful master, gave his thanks” (Ann., 56). There is no doubt that in Tacitus’ view Seneca had fallen into disgrace. Seneca himself was equally realistic: He altered the lifestyle assumed at an earlier period of power, prohibiting the crowd of morning callers, avoiding his companions, and keeping his appearances in the city to a minimum—as if poor health or devotion to his studies were confining him to his home. (ibid.) VII After the collapse of the Burrus-Seneca government, when he could afford to pay even less attention to appearances, Nero began the gradual extermination of “dynastic dissidents.” As already mentioned, a number of living persons were related to Augustus in the same way as Nero (who was his great-great-grandson twice on the female side), among them Rubellius Plautus and several of the Silani. Nero knew that, depending on the vagaries of public favor, such men might enjoy a higher existimatio and be regarded as worthier candidates than he for supreme power. So his relentless war upon his relatives was not surprising: he saw it as a matter of survival. The closer to the ranks of the Imperial family a person was, the greater the danger. Nero was impulsive by nature: one seeks in vain any consistent pattern in his policy or behavior. Accordingly, to ask why at a particular moment he destroyed a particular person is irrelevant. He would often strike when convenient or merely because such was his mood. But at this point in his life he made an important dynastic decision—finally to divorce Octavia and marry Poppaea Sabina—and it was thus logical for him to dispose of his closest relatives in order to free his hands. In the event of Nero’s divorce, Faustus Cornelius Sulla, married to Claudius’ daughter Antonia, would still remain the deified emperor’s son-in-law, while Nero, without Octavia as his spouse, would not. Besides, his present mistress and future wife was in no way popular with the masses. It is against this background that Tigellinus started his campaign—very likely, at Poppaea Sabina’s instigation, though Tacitus implies that his motive was to increase his own power by making Nero his accomplice in crime (Ann., 14, 57)—aimed at the final destruction of the exiled Rubellius Plautus and Cornelius Sulla. The crucial factors were the intended victims’ dynastic connections and their opportunities, living as they did in the provinces, for courting the military in order to usurp power (cf. ibid.). Tigellinus evidently played upon the emperor’s own hidden fears (ibid.), and the public view of the situation is made graphically explicit by the author of the Octavia Praetexta, written not long after these events, who makes his character Nero rave in an almost paranoid way:

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Exile has not broken Plautus and Sulla, though far removed, whose persistent rage arms the agents of their guilt to work my death, since still, though absent, great is the favor they enjoy in this our city, which nurtures the exiles’ hopes. (464ff., Loeb translation) In regard to the alleged danger from Faustus Sulla, the argument attributed by Tacitus to Tigellinus sounds ridiculous. The Gauls, he announces, would be roused by the memory of the great dictator of the same name (Ann., 14, 57). But Sulla had been active more than a hundred years earlier and never set foot beyond the Alps. Regardless of the question of authenticity, this is a nice touch on Tacitus’ part, if we attribute it to the historian’s own sense of the world of delusion these characters were living in. The man, Tacitus’ Tigellinus continues, has to be ambitious on the grounds of his poverty, and “simulates indolence only until an opportunity for boldness should arise” (ibid.). This is, of course, a charge of dissimulatio cleverly formulated. The historian himself, as mentioned, once rejected such a diagnosis insofar as Faustus Sulla was concerned, and Tacitus’ opinion of him is supported by the utter lack of reaction and resistance on Faustus Sulla’s part—or it may be that the habit of dissimulatio had paralyzed his will. Whatever the case, Faustus Sulla was dispatched without delay “before any rumor or fear” reached him. The gruesome detail of the emperor’s mockery of the prematurely grey hair on his enemy’s severed head (ibid.) may be treated as a characteristically Neronian anecdote, but premature grey hair on a “dynastic” (or any other) dissident of the time was hardly surprising. As for Rubellius Plautus, Tacitus’ Tigellinus begins his attack upon him once again in terms of existimatio: the nations of Asia, he says, are excited by the fame of his grandfather Drusus (ibid.). As in the case of Sulla the Dictator, the point is historically more than dubious: the fame of the younger Drusus, Tiberius’ son, was flawed, and he never participated in wars or diplomacy in the Orient. The subsequent reference to Rubellius Plautus’ wealth (which presumed a considerable clientela) is more pertinent. Yet the thrust of the entire denunciation culminates not in any allegation of revolutionary designs on Rubellius Plautus’ part, but again in the assertion of his dissimulatio. Most remarkable is the fact that a favorable attitude toward both mos maiorum and Stoic philosophy (“the sect which turns men into malcontents and meddlers in public affairs” (ibid.)) is made part and parcel of the accusation. A modern reader senses a non sequitur in the connection between, on the one hand, personal adherence to tradition and Stoicism and, on the other, political disloyalty, but for Tacitus’ audience it was self-explanatory and both charges were intended as alluding to subversion contemplated by Rubellius Plautus. But despite the apparent connection between “ancestral customs” and res publica vetus, there is no evidence that he entertained republicanist aspirations. A mere personal style of conduct—be it the “strict discipline” of a Cassius Longinus or the “stern schoolmaster’s look” of a Thrasea

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Paetus—could be treated as off ensive, and the person in question suspected of political republicanism. This is not to deny that Rubellius Plautus, like many of his peers, professed Stoic interests. But those interests appear to have been pragmatic, that is, pertaining to practical wisdom, sapientia, rather than theory and philosophia proper. It is true that we find two philosophers—one Coeranus and the famous Musonius Rufus—at his side in his fatal hour, a pattern to be followed later by many. But it was not the immortality of the soul that he discussed with them, like a Cato or a Thrasea Paetus, but instead he sought from them practical advice. His father-in-law, the formidable L. Antistius Vetus, managed to forestall the Imperial executioners and through the agency of a freedman inform his son-in-law of his imminent execution. (Nero must have been ignorant of this move, since he continued to place his trust in Antistius Vetus for several more years.) Tacitus is quite positive on the contents of Antistius Vetus’ message—it was an exhortation to resist to the very end: He should avail himself, while there was still time, of the opportunity not to die passively and without resistance: the sympathy his name inspired would secure the loyal support of good men [boni], the cooperation of daring ones. In the meantime no source of help was to be spurned. If he could succeed in turning away sixty soldiers (that was how many were now on their way), many things could happen in the time it took for a messenger to get back to Nero and for another detachment to arrive—enough things to start a war. The choice was between saving his life through this plan, if it was successful, or faring no worse for his boldness than he would have for his cowardice. (Ann., 58) This meant, in the terms of the mos maiorum, a course of action required by his “great name,” that is, his dignitas, so that even if the chance for survival was small, the effort was still worthwhile as a manifestation of traditional fortitude. But this legitimate interpretation of virtuous conduct ran counter to the opinions of Rubellius Plautus’ philosophical friends. It was clear that Antistius Vetus’ recommendations did not correspond to Stoic precepts. His son-in-law’s associates, the “teachers of wisdom,” explicitly advised their patron to comply with fate: “They urged death anticipated with steadfastness over a life of uncertainty and fear” (ibid., 59). He chose to follow this advice and obediently offered no resistance to the executioner, who arrived during his morning exercises. Tacitus makes the point that it cannot be ascertained whether his conduct was prompted by the force of his Stoic convictions or by some other cause: his helplessness, his weariness of ambiguous hope (a characteristically dissident failure of will), or his concern for his family, who might well have been victimized by Nero if he resisted his execution. Once again, when presented with Rubellius Plautus’ severed head, Nero commented on its appearance— this time, however, and Tacitus insists that his report is faithful to the fact (ibid.), on the shape of his victim’s nose (cf. Dio, 62, 14).

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It has been argued in recent times that the Imperial authorities had many reasons to fear Stoic influence on the upper echelons of the society and to persecute philosophers of that school. On the other hand, the scene at Rubellius Plautus’ deathbed suggests that the danger from this quarter was exaggerated and the emperor’s policy of repression in that regard somewhat misguided. Stoicism in itself did not and could not constitute the primary cause of dissidence, nor did it call for revolutionary action or tyrannicide. In fact, the entire doctrine could be interpreted as favoring autocracy. According to Tacitus, certain wild stories circulated at the time of Rubellius Plautus’ murder, showing further the people’s sharpened interest in him. There was talk that he had won the support of the commander of the Eastern armies, Domitius Corbulo, that the military force sent to kill him sided with him instead, and that, backed by all of Asia, he was on the brink of launching a civil war (Tac. Ann., 58). There was a predictable disappointment: the prospective pretender did not meet expectations. Looking at his predicament from the outside, that is, from the viewpoint of Antistius Vetus or the Roman gossip-mongers, it was possible to imagine that there was a chance of success in the event of revolution. Rubellius Plautus, however, being on the inside, long accustomed to his role as a “dynastic dissident,” having exhausted his capacity for dissimulatio, thought that he knew better, and acted accordingly. However this may be, Rubellius Plautus’ meek submission to his assassins strongly supports the contention that there was no conspiracy on his part and that his abstention from politics had been sincere. Later events showed, however, that after his execution even a past friendship with him, not to speak of a family connection, could provide, if necessary, an excellent pretext for a new persecution (see pp. 141f., 159). Cornelius Sulla and Rubellius Plautus were never formally tried, but senatorial behavior in the aftermath of their deaths was appallingly sycophantic. A new series of public thanksgivings was voted. Both Nero’s victims were officially denounced as troublemakers in the emperor’s self-congratulatory letter to the Senate, although he stopped short of acknowledging their execution on his orders (cf. Tac. Ann., 59). In a macabre gesture, reminiscent of modern times, the two were posthumously expelled from the curia—another sign of the delusory nature of public life at a time when the trappings of dissimulatio were imposed on reality itself so that dead men were treated as if they were alive. As Tacitus concisely puts it, “the mockery being more grievous than the evils proper” (ibid.). Now, his hands finally free, Nero followed a familiar pattern in disposing of his legitimate wife, Octavia (Tac. Ann., 14, 30ff.; Suet. Nero, 35; Dio, 62, 13). But by now there was no clever Seneca around to work out a plausible justification for a murderous act or to write a convincing explanatory letter. Nero, left to his own devices, almost bungled the job after committing a series of follies. In his management of his divorce from Octavia and her subsequent execution, he failed in exactly what Seneca had earlier, on the occasion of the matricide, succeeded in accomplishing (see pp. 36f.). Nero proved incapable of producing a charge against his wife plausible enough to meet her existimatio and popular expectations. Given Octavia’s known

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character and her present circumstances, the official indictment of adultery and, further, of adultery plus conspiracy (Ann., 14, 62; Suet., loc. cit.)—so efficient in the cases of numerous other high-born and high-placed ladies—sounded extremely improbable. The problem was exacerbated by the contradictory nature of the successive incriminations of the unfortunate young woman, not to mention the failure to produce, by means of a formal investigation, any evidence in support of them. First there was the charge of her sterility, which allowed Nero to divorce her while still maintaining the proprieties, even endowing her with ominous parting gifts—the estates of Burrus and Rubellius Plautus (Tac. Ann., 60). Then, presumably under pressure from Poppaea Sabina, now Nero’s wife and eager to protect herself for good against any threat from her predecessor, an attempt was made to incriminate Octavia (ibid.; cf. Suet., loc. cit.; Dio, loc. cit.) by concocting the story of her adultery with an Egyptian flute-player named Eucaerus. The plot did not work, owing to the courage of Octavia’s slaves in refusing to confirm even under torture this slander against their mistress. Nonetheless, Octavia was subs equently banished to Campania and put under military supervision—the first step on her road to destruction. The result of this particular action is known: vociferous popular protests and riots in the capital that verged on civil revolt (Ann., 60ff.; Suet., loc. cit.; Oct. Praet., 780ff.). So far as the capital was concerned, it was the most pronounced mass disturbance there under Nero until the very moment of his overthrow. It is not possible to ascertain the social or psychological forces underlying such outbursts of popular reaction. It may be suggested, however, that in the absence of a public and articulated debate on political, social, or economic issues, people’s feelings tended to center on the vicissitudes of single individuals. If successful in capturing the popular imagination, these individuals could acquire a symbolic or quasi-symbolic status to which the moral sense of the masses responded. A threat to these individuals, perceived as exemplary victims of injustice or abuse on the part of the powerful, could provoke an emotional explosion among disaffected elements of the population. Such an event might be only indirectly influenced by the broader political context; it is the passionate spirit of the moment and the immediate sense of moral outrage that matter. This was the case with Octavia: the popular reaction in her favor was spontaneous—as it was in the affair of Pedanius Secundus’ slaves. Even if it is allowed that Octavia’s clients had a hand in the disturbance (as Tacitus makes Poppaea Sabina allege (Ann., 14, 61)), they had no ability to stage it on such a scale. The absence of any organizing force patently affected the course of events: the masses were misinformed as to the actual facts, and upon receiving the false news of an alleged reconciliation they proceeded to express their delight by decorating and celebrating Octavia’s effigies while abusing and hurling down those of her rival Poppaea Sabina (ibid.). The author of Octavia Praetexta thus dramatizes the riotous behavior of the plebs in the pursuit of what, regarding Octavia, they held to be justice, in the speech of the Messenger, who is loyal to Nero:

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’Tis this too stubborn love [for Octavia] that inflames their minds and into rash madness drives them headlong. Whatever statue was set up of noble marble or of gleaming bronze, which bore the features of Poppaea, lies low, cast down by base-born hands and by relentless bars o’erturned; the limbs pulled down by ropes, they drag piecemeal, trample them o’er and o’er and cover them with foul mud. Commingled curses match their savage acts which I am afraid to tell of. They make ready to hem the Emperor’s house with flames should he not yield to the people’s wrath his new-made bride, not yield to Claudia [Octavia] the home that is her own. That he himself may know of the citizens’ uprising, with my own lips will I hasten to perform the prefect’s bidding. (792–805; Loeb translation) Tacitus’ comment on the entire episode is revealing: the masses, on the grounds of their insignificance and relative security, could allow themselves the luxury of greater protest than the members of the upper classes who lived in constant peril (Ann., 60). The historian’s perspicacity is dulled by a touch of his habitual social snobbery, as if he were oblivious for the moment of the astonishing extent of contemporaneous senatorial adulatio, which he himself castigated only a few paragraphs later. On the other hand, the rhetorical topos of the mutability of the popular mood—accurately reflecting the dynamics of mass hysteria—is echoed by the Chorus’ lamentation in the Octavia Praetexta (887ff.). The popular actions on behalf of Octavia, such as the display of her images, had their precedent in demonstrations in favor of Germanicus’ family at a crucial moment under Tiberius and Sejanus (Tac. Ann., 5, 4). But Germanicus’ widow, the elder Agrippina, proved unable, and Octavia both unable and unwilling, to convert these outbursts of public sympathy to their advantage. After order had been restored and the damage done to Poppaea Sabina’s effigies remedied, Nero felt driven to take drastic action. Since the earlier charge of his former wif e’s adultery with the flute-player had failed to impress anyone because of the lack of evidence, he came to the realization that he needed a culprit who would voluntarily confess to the same crime. Such was found in the person of Anicetus, his former preceptor and the prefect of the Misenian fleet, who had already served him in the perpetration of matricide (see pp. 36f.) and was now sulking in semi-disgrace: “The chosen instruments of the evil deeds seem to be reproaching us when we look at them,” as Tacitus knowingly observes (Ann., 14, 62). Upon the promise of a secret reward and a handsome retirement arrangement, Nero’s henchman obliged and, making a confession in the presence of the Imperial amici of his non-existent guilt, exercised his imagination to the utmost.

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This was followed by an Imperial edict denouncing Octavia for having joined in a conspiracy with the naval prefect to seize power (Tac. Ann., 63). Characteristically, Nero could not refrain from a touch of excess: besides seduction and sedition, he incriminated her for procuring an abortion. This was indeed unnecessary and foolish since, as Tacitus appropriately points out, it flagrantly contradicted the earlier charge of sterility. Octavia was relegated to the island of Pandateria, a familiar place of exile for Imperial ladies, starting with Augustus’ own daughter, the elder Iulia. The unfortunate woman’s state of mind during the course of her entire ordeal as Nero’s wife can be easily imagined. It seems that from the very beginning the mutual hatred and contempt of husband and wife was so deeply rooted that little or no dissimulatio on either side was needed. Despite all the rhetorical ornamentation, a few genuine insights into her predicament may be gained from the representation of her character in the Octavia Praetexta. Consider, for example, the following lines: Though I should endure what must be borne, ne’er could my woes be ended, save by gloomy death. With my mother slain, my father by crime snatched from me, robbed of my brother, by wretchedness and grief o’erwhelmed, by sorrow crushed, by my husband hated, and set beneath my slave [Acte], the sweet light brings no joy to me; for my heart is ever trembling, not with fear of death, but of [the charge] of crime [adultery]—be crime but lacking to my misfortunes, death will be delight. (100–7) Although she had done her best to avoid meddling at all in politics, Octavia’s dynastic status in and of itself made her a victim of Nero’s hatred and court intrigue. Deprived of every chance for accommodation, since any act of hers could be alleged to show criminal intent, she experienced dissidence in the ultimate existential sense, falling prey to an obsession with doom and death. Fear dominated her thought and conduct, as well as that of the numerous other “dynastic dissidents.” The play makes this fear manifest in the heroine’s monologues, despite all the Stoic principles she tries to follow: Then trembling and mighty terror banish my slumbers, and bring back to my wretched heart its grief and fear. (123f.) In the original, in only two lines six meaningful words out of ten here allude to misery and horror.

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Shortly after her relegation to Pandateria, Tacitus tells us, Octavia was ordered to die (June 9, AD 62) despite protests of her insignificance and her invocation of the ancestors she shared with her destroyer (Ann., 14, 64). She was forced to cut her veins and then was suffocated in the vapor of a superheated bath. As if it had now become a routine matter, her head is reported to have been cut off and displayed before Poppaea Sabina. Predictably, the Senate—one may presume that Thrasea Paetus was absent—voted national thanksgivings, which prompted Tacitus’ wrath in one of his most splendid denunciations of the sycophancy of his peers: How long will I continue to record the temple offerings gratefully decreed for reasons such as these? Anyone who learns of the calamities of those times from me or other authors, may take it for granted that for every exile or execution ordered by the emperor, there was an act of thanksgiving to the gods, and that what had been in former times a sign of public good fortune was now a symbol of public misery. But for all that I shall not pass over in silence any senatorial decree distinguished by a new low in adulation or supreme self-abasement. (ibid.)

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I Tacitus ends the fourteenth book of the Annales with an enigmatic episode belonging to AD 62. He informs us of rumors about Nero poisoning two powerful freedmen (14, 65; cf. Suet. Nero, 35): [Claudius] Doryphorus, secretary a libellis, “as if for opposition to his marriage with Poppaea,” and Pallas, formerly omnipotent, “on the grounds that, by living so long, he was keeping him from an immense sum of money [i.e., Pallas’ own estate]” (Tac. Ann., 14, 65). He then gives a tantalizingly obscure report of what has been interpreted by some as a prefiguration of the Pisonian conspiracy three years later. A certain Romanus brought some kind of charge of subversion against both Seneca and C.Calpurnius Piso, the future conspirator, with consequences he did not expect: “Romanus secretly incriminated Seneca as an accomplice of C.Piso, but Seneca attacked him more effectively on that same charge” (ibid.). As described, the affair makes no sense. Seneca is said to have been denounced as Piso’s accomplice. Accomplice in what? He is claimed to have retaliated by successfully charging the informer with the same transgression or crime. What crime? That of Romanus himself having, in fact, been Piso’s accomplice? Again, accomplice in what? And if Seneca’s countercharge was so effective, why do we hear no word of the affair’s outcome? And how is it that Piso escaped being accused as an accomplice, whether Seneca’s or Romanus’? First, the word “accomplice” (socius) is obscure in this context. Prima facie, Seneca was incriminated for associating with Piso. But C.Calpurnius Piso was not so distinguished at that point as to arouse the suspicion of the authorities. Evidence for any connection on his part with the Imperial family is anecdotal: Caligula, claiming to imitate Romulus, publicly abducted Piso’s wife, Livia Orestilla, married and soon divorced her; later both of them were sent into exile on the mocking charge of adultery (Suet. Cal., 25; cf. Dio, 59, 8; Schol. ad Juv., 5, 109). Piso was soon recalled by Claudius and he became a suffect consul about AD 48. This experience under Caligula could indeed have given him a grievance against the regime, but, if we believe Tacitus (Ann., 15, 53, 59), his second marriage—he eloped with a friend’s

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wife, one Atria Galla—proved extraordinarily happy. As for any degree of dissimulatio he may have developed in response to what happened, it seems unlikely that this easygoing sybarite was prompted by an ancient offense to embark on so dangerous an adventure. In fact, Tacitus specifically suggests that it was the fright he experienced at Romanus’ denunciation that made him consider a preventive attack on Nero (ibid., 14, 65). As for Seneca, he had retired a year earlier, rarely visited the capital, and had essentially withdrawn from active social life into philosophical study (cf. ibid., 14, 56). This makes a political intrigue with Piso or anyone else as his partner quite incredible. At the same time, the story cannot be easily dismissed. It is part of Tacitus’ conception of the origins of the Pisonian conspiracy: “Hence came Piso’s fear, and an intrigue was hatched, of great weight but unsuccessful” (ibid.). Tacitus could confuse things, even distort them, but he can hardly have invented the story. It is difficult, indeed, to understand how Seneca could retaliate against Romanus’ charge of nefarious involvement with Piso by accusing his accuser of the same thing. On the other hand, Tacitus may not have been certain of the event he was writing about. Much in his sources belonged to various kinds of documents, acta, produced both by the Senate and by the Imperial offices, either for public consumption or for limited circulation. Some of these documents were archival material such as stenographical protocols and various kinds of memoranda and marginalia. The contents may in some cases have been obscure enough to be unintelligible to anyone other than the officials in charge of the case. The report of Romanus’ attack on Seneca and Piso may have been derived from this kind of material. In any event, the affair demonstrates the perils of amicitia, “friendship” or “association,” that could be at every point interpreted, in the spirit of the old Republic, as political alliance, and serve as grounds for persecution. Romanus’ denunciation may have been, in fact, quite vague, merely hinting at Seneca’s acquaintance with Piso. Seneca’s retort would then make deliberately ironic sense—namely, that Romanus (who was possibly a client), by associating with Piso, could be himself accused, with equal legitimacy, of whatever was alleged, thus accounting for this fictional “First Pisonian Conspiracy.” At the end of the same year, AD 62, the atmosphere in the curia was emotionally charged by the heated debate over the issue of fraudulent adoptions (Tac. Ann., 15, 19). Then came Thrasea Paetus’ last performance there. A wealthy and influential Cretan, Claudius Timarchus, was tried on an odd charge. Among other offenses, including the oppression of his inferiors, he was reported to have boasted that it depended on him whether proconsuls in Crete received public thanksgivings from their subjects (ibid., 20), an official honor which was considered important. This was interpreted as a slander on the Senate—a diminution of dignitas senatoria, of which Thrasea Paetus was a champion. Thrasea Paetus was little concerned with the actual defendant, whom he simply suggested be expelled from Crete (ibid.), but he seized on Claudius Timarchus’ case as a pretext for debating a larger issue.

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It was the Senate’s dignity that was both the motivation and the underlying principle of Thrasea Paetus’ “theory of small deeds,” that is, the belief that if vices on the periphery of public life are eliminated, there is hope of some improvement in the center. This reasoning had prompted the earlier attack on Syracusan extravagance in the gladiatorial games (see pp. 32f.), and this same concern was predominant in Thrasea Paetus’ present argument for the abolition of provincial thanksgivings, an argument heavily based on political precedents. Of all his speeches recorded in Tacitus, this one alone had republicanist implications, in its praise of the ancient ways of political conduct: “In the past, however, it was not only praetor or consul but even private citizens who were sent to supervise the provinces and brought back reports on how obediently everyone behaved: whole nations trembled over what a single person might say” (ibid., 21). But this in itself could not have been regarded by the audience as evidence of animus nocendi. The key sentence of his harangue suggests that Thrasea Paetus’ ultimate target was the practice of senatorial adulatio as such: “But let us see that praise which is insincere and squeezed out in response to entreaties be kept in check in the same way as villainy and cruelty” (ibid.). He invokes all the traditional values of the mos maiorum and claims that virtues based on those values have been turned into objects of hatred. Thrasea Paetus’ message was only thinly masked by rhetorical generalities and must accordingly have been perceived by his audience as an attack on their own practice of adulatio. This makes sense of Tacitus’ comment that he turned the occasion “to the public good” (ibid., 20). But the circumstances rendered both Thrasea Paetus’ argument and its consequences ambivalent. It is no accident that the consuls were reluctant to promulgate Thrasea Paetus’ motion to abolish provincial thanksgivings (ibid., 22), while Nero, on the other hand, approved it. Though it was intended to oppose Imperial adulatio, the emperor was exploiting Thrasea Paetus’ move for the opposite purpose, that is, of depriving the Senate of another fraction of its political prestige. The episode suggests accumulated passion in Thrasea Paetus, the result of prolonged dissimulatio. He sensed an increasing threat to his integrity and that he was gradually losing ground. This made him question the validity of what may be called utilitarian compromise, his “theory of small deeds.” In Claudius Timarchus’ trial his argument played incautiously into Nero’s hands. However, his advice, on the eve of his death, to young Arulenus Rusticus to continue along the cursus honorum (Tac. Ann., 16, 26) (see p. 172) shows that he had not abandoned a belief that under different circumstances a “constitutionalist” strategy could work. We do not hear of any further appearances in the Senate by Thrasea Paetus until AD 66, when Cossutianus Capito charged him with three years of secessio. This means that at some point in AD 63 his mind was set on withdrawing from politics. Certainly, it was not he who invented secessio as an expression of moral protest. Already under Tiberius, L.Calpurnius Piso Augur threatened to leave the Senate for good and had to be mollified (Tac. Ann., 2, 34). And in the Roman tradition the pattern goes far back into the past, to the struggle of the orders—patricians and plebians—in the early

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Republic. As already mentioned, a senatorial tendency to avoid attendance was prominent under the early principate. The average man, however, could escape trouble by some sign of compliance, risking a fine at worst. But Thrasea Paetus was not average—he had the potential of a leader. This remarkable man, righteous without being prudish, committed without being a fanatic, courageous without being obstinate, regarded by many as “virtue incarnate,” exercised sufficient influence upon his peers to keep the government on the alert. In short, he was too conspicuous to manifest his moral resolve by absenting himself from the Senate and not eventually suffer the consequences. Thrasea Paetus’ road toward that resolve was long and convoluted. The episode of the Syracusan gladiators shortly preceded Agrippina’s murder, but the Antistius Sosianus affair and the prosecution of the Cretan Timarchus came afterwards. This suggests that Thrasea Paetus’ spontaneous gesture of leaving the curia to protest senatorial adulation of the matricide caused him no immediate trouble, since Burrus and Seneca still had the upper hand in domestic politics. This probably induced him to resume his public activities and encouraged his further endeavors. The measure of his dissimulatio can be gauged not only by his collaboration with the government throughout his cursus honorum, but also by the flattery he was willing to lavish on Nero while defending Antistius Sosianus. Even the execution of Octavia did not drive him to any irreversible move. Psychologically, it is plausible that Thrasea Paetus was absent from the curia during the proceedings against Octavia and the subsequent senatorial adulation of Nero: to be present would have meant forfeiting his public image which had taken shape over several years and nullifying his earlier actions. Both self-esteem and concern with existimatio required that he, who had demonstrated exceptional stamina in defying Nero after the murder of the hateful mother, should not be thought to assent in the assassination of an innocent wife. Here the outer demands of public opinion and the inner demands of the categorical imperative had to coincide. Even so, Thrasea Paetus’ secessio progressed slowly, and he sometimes hesitated as to how he should proceed. His defensive capacity for dissimulatio continued to hold firm. His intervention in the Cretan affair can be seen, from this angle, as a last, and ill-conceived, attempt to reassert senatorial dignitas. So far he still seems to have been unsure of the appropriate course of action. As for Nero, he abetted Thrasea Paetus’ motion to abolish provincial thanksgivings because it was in his own interests to do so, but he had not forgotten Thrasea Paetus’ stand regarding the murders of Agrippina and Octavia, and in early AD 63 he made his first move against his intended victim by means of amicitiae renuntiatio, “renunciation of friendship.” This gesture was made deliberately humiliating: the distinguished senator was forbidden to join his colleagues in a congratulatory deputation to Antium to salute Nero on the birth of a daughter to Poppaea Sabina (Tac. Ann., 15, 23). The senators’ response to this birth was most extravagant: their decrees ranged from pronouncing Poppaea Sabina’s womb blessed by the gods to a contest on the model of Augustus’ celebration of his victory over Antony and Cleopatra. This

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servility, somewhat untimely in that Claudia Augusta died four months later, led to yet another shower of adulatory senatorial acts, including her immediate deification (ibid.). There was an element of deliberate mockery in Nero’s prohibiting Thrasea Paetus to attend these premature celebrations. It equated him, by implication, with his subservient fellow senators, who thrived all their lives on Imperial favor and for whom such a signal of disgrace would have dealt a mortal blow to their ambitions. Inventively, Nero acted as if the unwarranted assumption of Thrasea Paetus’ eagerness to adulate was a matter of common knowledge. But the latter correctly read a different message in this affront—that of his own doom. “Thrasea,” comments Tacitus, “received with undaunted spirit the insult that was a harbinger of his imminent destruction” (Ann., 15, 23). Nero’s accumulated annoyance was cause enough for humiliating this proud and dignified man in such a manner. But it is very likely that Thrasea Paetus’ disgrace was also due to the intrigues of Tigellinus and his son-in-law, Cossutianus Capito, who had not forgotten Thrasea’s part in the latter’s impeachment. More mysterious are Nero’s motives for his subsequent attempt at a sudden reconciliation with Thrasea Paetus, of which he even boasted to Seneca (ibid.). It is conceivable that the emperor acted in good faith, sobered by the loss of his daughter: even he was capable of appreciating Thrasea Paetus’ personal merits. It is reported that, on hearing criticism of one of the latter’s juridical decisions, Nero remarked: “I wish Thrasea were as good a friend to me as he is a most excellent judge” (Plut. Praec. ger. publ., 810A). On the other hand, one cannot help looking for more sinister motives in the moves of this “artistic tyrant.” He could have entertained a design for some kind of a trap for either Seneca or Thrasea Paetus, or both. Seneca could hardly have initiated the attempted reconciliation, since his influence with Nero was now negligible. Nor is there any evidence that Seneca and Thrasea Paetus were on friendly terms. Rather, one suspects that the two disliked each other. In all the corpus of Seneca’s moral writings there is not a single mention of the man considered by his contemporaries to be a paragon of virtue, although Seneca was not averse to referring by name to living individuals, even those of a dissident bent. In his turn, Thrasea Paetus was likely to have disapproved of much in Seneca’s behavior, both public and private. It was Seneca, after all, who had written an official letter congratulating the Senate on Agrippina’s murder, thereby prompting Thrasea Paetus’ initial secession. If indeed there was little love lost between the two, Nero’s devious mind may have tempted him to test the boundaries of dissimulatio, theirs and his own, by a show of reconciliation. In regard to Seneca, one can sense in the emperor’s pointed boast to him an ironic, even taunting, touch. Seneca could easily interpret this boast as a commendation of Thrasea Paetus’ integrity and moral absolutism against his own ambitious flexibility, verging on the unscrupulous. If so, the innuendo was a bitter one for a teacher of moral wisdom, especially as it came from his own former pupil. It would have suggested that the other man’s virtues had managed to impress the young emperor while

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his own had ultimately failed to do so. However, if this was Nero’s intended stratagem, it failed. Seneca cleverly replied in a similar spirit of ambiguous irony, and with characteristic promptitude. He congratulated the emperor on regaining the disgraced senator’s friendship (Ann., 15, 23), presumably well aware of their true feelings for each other. It remained for Nero either to take secret offense at the subtly implied insult or to let it pass. With regard to Thrasea Paetus himself, by offering him reconciliation Nero may have had in mind his further embarrassment, anticipating the enjoyment of the game of cat-and-mouse he probably intended to play with him, as he was already doing with Seneca. Such a reading of this episode makes more comprehensible Tacitus’ enigmatic comment: “Hence came increased glory for both eminent men—and increased danger” (ibid.). Among other things, this statement means that Thrasea Paetus enhanced his reputation by his manner of responding to Nero’s conciliatory offer. It is not exactly clear what his response was, but the fact remains that from this moment until the time of his own trial he seems to vanish from the court and the senatorial scene. This invites the attractive proposition that Thrasea Paetus did not respond in kind to the emperor’s gesture. If this was the case, it illuminates the dynamics of the dissident consciousness and pinpoints the cause and the circumstances of Thrasea Paetus’ final choice of conduct. He found himself in a predicament little different from that of other disgraced courtiers. But, rejecting an opportunity for rehabilitation, he exercised his remaining freedom in accordance with his own moral and philosophical persuasions. This interpretation of the man’s behavior is supported by our sources’ treatment of him: they assume that his secessio was voluntary and was, in fact, a pointed political démarche, and that this was why he was condemned for it later. It was not a cowardly desire to escape from danger, but the failure of his “utilitarian compromise” as a means of accommodation to reality and the exhaustion of his dissimulatio that determined his ultimate course: where action was impossible, inaction was the only alternative. The political implications and repercussions of Thrasea Paetus’ act of secession will be discussed later (pp. 170ff.). II Meanwhile, the emperor’s hunger for universal recognition as an artistic genius continued to grow. “No regard is paid to music that is not performed publicly,” he used to say, according to Suetonius (Nero, 20), referring to a Greek proverb. By AD 64, after his experiments at the Juvenalia and Neronia I, he had made up his mind to perform in public on a grand scale, but first before a Greek, rather than a Roman, audience. Hence his journey to Naples (Tac. Ann., 15, 33f.; cf. Suet. Nero, 20), and also his plans for an artistic tour in Greece, though these were not implemented until several years later. The event in Naples was carefully orchestrated and considered a success, if only by the Imperial star (Tac. Ann., 15, 34). Nero’s performance was followed by a sudden earthquake, causing the collapse of the entire theater. By this time, however, the “artistic tyrant” and his obedient subjects were safely off the

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premises and nobody was harmed (ibid.). But the entire event, seen as an ambivalent omen, provided superstitious Romans with a source of bewilderment and speculation. From Naples Nero proceeded to Beneventum, with an eye, if we follow Tacitus, to crossing the Aegean. In that city he was entertained by P.Vatinius with a lavish show of gladiatorial games. This Vatinius, of low origins, was a particularly repulsive specimen of opportunist-adulator, and Tacitus gives a devastating picture of him: Vatinius counted among the nastiest exhibits of that court; a shoemaker’s shop graduate with a deformed body and a wisecracker wit, taken at first to be a butt of mockery, then, through his vilification of anybody who was decent, brought to the point where he could outdo any scoundrel in influence [with the emperor], wealth, and power to do harm. (Ann., 15, 34) The information we have on him suggests that Vatinius was a type half way between the earlier parasite and the later court jester. One additional piece of evidence about the man comes from Tacitus’ Dialogus de Oratoribus (11). Its dissident protagonist, Curiatius Maternus, arguing the practical merits of literary versus forensic activities, mentions that he succeeded in crushing Vatinius’ power by means of a poem (probably a play) he had written. But we have no idea when or under what circumstances Vatinius’ disgrace was effected and what exactly was Curiatius Maternus’ role in it. This kind of entertainment, says Tacitus acidly, did nothing to hinder Nero in the perpetration of further crimes (Ann., 15, 35). He now resumed warfare against his own relatives, the “dynastic dissidents.” This time the chosen victim was D.Iunius Silanus Torquatus, a member of that illustrious and long-suffering family. His brother M.Iunius Silanus, proconsul of Asia, had been poisoned by Agrippina immediately upon her son’s accession—“the first death under the new Principate” (see pp. 1ff.)— and now he himself was accused of aspiring to revolution. It is reported that through the agency of informers Nero charged the man with a twofold crime. First, he was accused of prodigality leading to financial straits that had left him no way of resolving his difficulties except by means of a coup d’état. Second, he was impugned with organizing his household in departments on the Imperial pattern, possessing, like a princeps, freedmen as secretaries ab epistulis, a libellis and a rationibus—“titles, and occupations, of the management [of public affairs] at the highest level” (ibid.). Some modern authors take this second charge at face value, allowing that this household arrangement was in fact proof that Silanus Torquatus was actually making preparations for a coup. But it is known that the titles and ranks of these freedman officers of the central court administration did correspond to divisions of other private households, which was precisely what the Imperial domain had initially been. This charge was in fact a shameless semantic exploitation of a common vocabulary, and it seems rather a cruel joke at Silanus Torquatus’ expense, very much in accord with Nero’s perverse sense of humor.

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Much more relevant in this case were the doomed man’s dynastic connections. His descent (like Nero’s) directly from Augustus is pointedly stressed by Tacitus (ibid.), and this fact makes it easier to comprehend why Silanus Torquatus committed suicide before the trial even started. Far from being evidence of a guilty conscience, his suicide shows rather his poignant awareness of the fate of his two brothers—Marcus, poisoned by Agrippina, and Lucius, forced to take his life on the day Claudius married her. Dio’s account of Silanus Torquatus’ end omits altogether the issue of the household titulature, concentrating instead on the charge of prodigality and finding it “amazing” (62, 24). His further remarks are worth quoting: “He [Silanus Torquatus] had squandered his property rather prodigally, whether following his native bent or with the deliberate intention of not being very rich” (ibid.). There is nothing in this passage to contradict the portrayal of the dynastic dissident’s circumstances as found in earlier and more reliable sources. In fact, Dio’s comment, and particularly its final clause, implies an attempt at dissimulatio on Silanus Torquatus’ part, like some of his other kinsmen: Rubellius Plautus, “of a secluded private life,” Cornelius Sulla, “by nature incapable of any audacity,” and his own brother Marcus, “the golden sheep.” Lacking the slightest chance for successful revolt, their strategy of accommodation and survival had to take an opposite course, and paralysis of will often ensued. It took a supreme effort to appear as insignificant and unostentatious as possible, independent of, and even contrary to, any existimatio that the outside world entertained in their regard. Silanus Torquatus’ decision to commit suicide, once his indictment was made public and proceedings against him initiated (Tac. Ann., 15, 35), resulted from his recognition that any further dissimulatio was of no avail. Thus, taking his own life was for him the only logical step, and in the opinion of the Roman aristocracy it was an honorable one. Nero denounced the defendant’s suicide and, in a characteristic, mockingly hypocritical gesture, reassured the public that whatever crimes the accused man might have committed or contemplated, his life would have been generously spared (ibid.). Given his earlier treatment of Rubellius Plautus and Faustus Sulla, that statement must have met with considerable skepticism. III Nero postponed his Eastern journey for reasons that are unclear. Tacitus links them with superstition and even with remorse of conscience (Ann., 15, 36), and in an official pronouncement the emperor professed his devotion to the Roman people, which he implied was reciprocal. Tacitus’ further comments are instructive with regard to both his and his peers’ social foibles and to their view of popular attitudes. The plebs, he contends, were pleased, owing to their passion for the entertainment which the emperor’s presence in the capital guaranteed, and also because they feared a grain shortage in the event of his absence. This second reason implies a recognition of the

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effectiveness of the Imperial supervision of the food supply and, by implication, of the inadequacies of its administration by senatorial officials. As for the response of the upper classes to Nero’s change of plans, Tacitus is predictably acerbic: The Senate and the leading men felt uncertain whether he ought to be considered more atrocious when at a distance or at close quarters; in the final analysis, as is natural when there is great fear, they believed the worse to be that which actually happened. (ibid.) It is at this point, according to both Tacitus (Ann., 15, 37) and Dio (62, 15), that Nero, in order to ingratiate himself further with the Roman populace and, at the same time, to enjoy himself hugely, ordered a series of scandalous public banquets and galas under the management of his praetorian prefect, Tigellinus (cf. Suet. Nero, 27). It is not possible to determine how accurate is the wealth of dramatic and libidinous details reported by our authorities concerning these entertainments, though Tacitus warns the reader that he will describe one event as a generic example rather than having “the same prodigalities narrated over and over again” (Ann., 15, 37). Figuring in his account are orgies and all manner of sexual promiscuity, as well as the institution of brothels for which high-born ladies were recruited—this last an apparent resumption of Caligula’s noxious practices (cf. Suet. Cal., 41) due to the Roman love of precedent. Dio is even more specific and picturesque. He expatiates on the participation of all social strata in a sexual phantasmagoria leading to “pushing and fighting and general uproar,” and even accidental deaths. If this Saturnalian portrayal may be at all trusted, it means that considerable pressure was applied to the reluctant members of the upper classes which most certainly resulted in much greater hatred, outrage, and indignation on their part than even their earlier “voluntarily enforced” involvement in various spectacles on the stage or in the arena. Nero’s subsequent homosexual marriage in the capacity of wife to the freedman Pythagoras, with observance of all the ancient traditional rites of Roman matrimony (Tac. Ann., 15, 37; cf. Suet. Nero, 29), was a deliberately offensive (if entertaining) parody. This peculiar picture of an all-permissive sensuality and bizarre sexual glamor is confirmed, at least in substance, by contemporary authors such as Persius, Petronius, and also Seneca. This vision of dolce vita—of which, so far as the capital was concerned, he could have known at the time only by hearsay—fuelled St Paul’s fulminations against what he perceived as the Romans’ pansexuality: Therefore God gave them up in the lusts of their hearts to impurity, to the dishonoring of their bodies among themselves, because they exchanged the truth about God for a lie, and worshipped and served the creature rather than the Creator. (Rom., 1, 24–7)

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At the same time, Nero’s public image, his existimatio, grew fraught with contradictions. Even though most of the plebs continued to idolize him, in the eyes of the more conservative common people his contempt of the entire mos maiorum, his deliberate mockery of it, his delight in scandal and provocation, made him more sinister than a mere enfant terrible. By his rejection of traditional public behavior he placed himself above and beyond both the civic body and the body politic. In Aristotelian terms (e.g., Pol., 1253a), which reflected the customary attitude of both Greeks and Romans, he must have been regarded as either a god or a beast, and in the popular imagination he acquired the mingled characteristics of both. On the one hand, his extravagances and even his crimes endowed him with supernatural, or at least heroic, status, since omnipotence, an absence of all restraint, and a breach of conventional boundaries between good and evil were characteristic of the divine and the semidivine. On the other hand, his night-time drinking bouts, bordello orgies, fist-fights and banditry in the streets (cf. Suet. Nero, 26), and so forth must have relegated him to a level somewhat lower than human. The fantastic, almost folkloric and archetypal, figure of a werewolf (an appropriate antecedent to the later Christian association of Nero with the apocalyptical Beast from the Abyss) is dimly discernible in Suetonius’ lurid portrayal of the emperor in the guise of a wild animal sexually tormenting helpless men and women fastened to stakes (ibid., 29; cf. Dio, 63, 13, 2). Scholarly skepticism as regards the veracity of this picture is perhaps justified. But it does not make the passage less instructive. All this added plausibility, in the eyes of many, to the rumor that Nero started the Great Fire on July 19, AD 64. Although he was almost certainly innocent of it, he was believed to be guilty of incendiarism by, for instance, the military tribune Subrius Flavus, executed a year later for his part in the Pisonian conspiracy (Ann., 15, 57). This is not surprising: to Subrius Flavus and his like, arson on the heroic scale belonged, like matricide or incest, to the category of unnatural crimes of which Nero was thought capable. Nero’s intelligent relief measures after the fire (cf. Tac. Ann., 15, 39, 43) were accompanied, however, by wholesale confiscations of the capital’s public and private land, with the purpose, notably, of constructing his pleasure palace, the “Golden House”—a measure that could not but further contribute to the growing antagonism on the part of the wealthy. (In fact, there exists independent, although indirect, numismatic evidence concerning marked deterioration by this time of the emperor’s relationship with the Senate: starting with AD 64 the legend EX SC, that is, “by the decree of the Senate,” disappears from the Neronian coinage.) At the same time, Nero’s earlier popularity with the masses continued, and he even used the occasion to destroy a group of religious dissenters, whose mentality was quite different from the senatorial dissimulatio: Therefore, to put an end to the rumor [that he was an incendiary], Nero supplied [for the sake of diversion] people to be prosecuted, and visited them with extraordinary punishments, people whom the mob loathed for their abominations and called Christians. Christ, the origin of the name, had been

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punished with the death penalty by the procurator Pontius Pilate under the rule of Tiberius, and the deadly superstition, checked for the moment, broke forth again, not only throughout Judaea, the birthplace of that evil, but even throughout the city of Rome, where all things hideous and abominable come together and find many followers. Therefore, first, those who confessed and, then, on the information supplied by them, a vast number of them were arrested and convicted [or joined together] not so much on the grounds of the crime of arson as for hatred of the human race. In addition, when they were put to death, they were made objects of mockery in that they were covered with skins of wild animals and torn to death by dogs; or they were crucified or burnt, and when daylight failed, they were burned to serve as torches in the dark. Nero had offered his gardens for the spectacle and gave a circus exhibition, mixing with the people like a charioteer or standing in a chariot. Then, although they were criminals and deserved the most exemplary punishments, there arose pity for them as if they were being removed not for the benefit of the state, but to satisfy the savagery of one man. (Tac. Ann., 15, 44) It follows from this famous passage that Nero accused the Christians of setting Rome on fire as a way of deflecting public anger and misery onto popular scapegoats whose beliefs and conduct marked them as conspicuously alien; that they were convicted of arson is shown by the punishment imposed upon them—burning at the stake. While disastrous for the Christian community in the capital, the Neronian persecution appears, however, to have been an isolated event confined to the city itself, although, given the fact that Tacitus’ narrative for AD 66–8 has not survived, this is not certain. In any case, one may surmise that of the “huge multitude” of victims, the movement’s activists residing in the city of Rome were, because of their conspicuousness, among the first to perish. The predicament of the Neronian Christians was sadly paradoxical. Their dissent consisted in their very way of life, however much St Paul preached accommodation with earthly powers (Rom., 13, 1ff.). By no means political, their attitudes and doctrines could nonetheless have been misconstrued as signs of subversion, contrary to the whole spirit of their movement which emphatically renounced earthly politics in expectation of the imminent supernatural upheaval. While worlds apart from the senatorial dissidents in their psychological mold, they still possessed a common ground in the intensity of their moral commitment. There is an additional, but inevitable, irony in that Tacitus, himself a professed moralist, failed to perceive his own affinities, if only in this respect, with the victims of the persecution and found them, first and foremost, morally objectionable. Christian ethics and their absolutized values represented the very opposite of the fashionable Neronian nihilism. This alone, if comprehended at all by the emperor or his associates (as, it seems, never happened), would have threatened the Christians with wholesale extermination. And it was at their hands that Nero received his most appropriate

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retribution, immortalized in later Christian tradition as the ultimate Evil incarnate, the apocalyptical Beast from the Abyss. After the brief paragraph dealing with the Christians, Tacitus, possibly in anticipation of the Pisonian conspiracy, turns to the next part in the story of Seneca’s vicissitudes. Although it is only an incident mentioned in passing, it signals the final crisis in the philosopher’s relations with his former pupil. First we learn of Nero’s pillage of Italy and the provinces, including even sanctuaries, with the purpose of collecting money for the renovation of Rome (Ann., 15, 45). In Greece and Asia Minor two Imperial agents—Acratus, “a freedman ready and willing to commit any abomination,” and Carrinas Secundus, “who, though giving lip-service to Greek philosophy, in no way imbued his spirit with its virtue”—confiscated not only temple offerings but the sacred images themselves. (This pseudo-philosopher seems an interesting character in his own right; very likely a son of the rhetor Carrinas Secundus, a man who was exiled from Italy by Caligula for having declaimed against tyrants (Dio, 59, 20, 6), he clearly turned into an Imperial henchman, and one may only guess at how much dissimulatio it cost him.) It is against this background that Seneca’s second request for official retirement must be understood: It was said that, to avert from himself the odium the sacrilege aroused, Seneca pleaded for retirement on some distant country estate, and when it was denied him, he feigned illness, an alleged nervous disorder, as an excuse for not leaving his chamber. (Ann., 15, 45) The text suggests that Seneca was still perceived by most as a member of the ruling clique, and that Nero was continuing his cruel game with him. But by that point Seneca’s capacity for dissimulatio was clearly exhausted. It appears that he was now pressing his secessio much in the spirit of Thrasea Paetus—that is, not in response to personal trouble, whether actual or prospective, but out of moral principle and a determination not to be seen as a participant in injustice. Nero, no doubt, understood—hence his sudden rage. There were rumors that he attempted to poison Seneca through the agency of a bribed freedman, one Cleonicus. The account of this affair seems psychologically plausible: Nero, who pretended to be a philhellene and a patron of the arts, had plundered Greece of her artistic and sacred treasure; and here was Seneca, a man of great culture, who exposed the emperor’s hypocrisy by his firm resolve to dissociate himself from it. From that moment Seneca was doomed, and the surprising fact that there was no formal break until the very end should probably be explained by Nero’s fear of Seneca’s continued prestige. IV The Pisonian conspiracy of AD 65 (Tac. Ann., 15, 48–74; Dio, 62, 24f.; cf. Suet. Nero, 36) was the ultimate act of dissident desperation. It is introduced dramatically into

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the narrative of the Annales by the advent of terrible portents, including yet another appearance of a comet, “each one expiated by Nero with an offering of noble blood” (Tac. Ann., 15, 47). Although Tacitus himself must have been well informed about both the official and the unofficial versions of the event, his account is not free of puzzles, omissions, and incongruities. Some of this, it seems, was due to his conflation of various accounts, from oral and written sources; some, as I will argue later (pp. 100, 129f.), may have been deliberate. On the other hand, the conspiracy was singularly mismanaged by its leaders and participants because of their contradictory behavior, and this makes its inglorious outcome pathetically ironic. At the very outset Tacitus notes the motley character of the plot, “to enroll in which senators, equestrians, the military, and even women competed in giving their names” (ibid., 48). It is helpful to recall that several conspiracies in late republican and early Imperial history were quite heterogeneous, temporary coalitions, often uniting disaffected politicians and rebellious officers with all sorts of moral and even social outcasts. The conspiracies of greater coherence and uniformity, such as the Ides of March, appear to be the exception—an exception, however, that the Pisonians, as will be argued, made an attempt to imitate. It was, however, the assassination of Gaius Caligula in AD 41 (Jos. Ant. Jud., 1–273; also Philo. Leg., 17; Dio, 59, 29ff.; Suet. Cal., 15) that served as the immediate model. It, too, was initiated by a group of senatorial opportunists, closely linked to the regime, who exploited the widespread hatred of the dynasty. They set a precedent by allying themselves with the praetorian guard while in fact seeking nothing but selfaggrandizement, whatever slogans they used. Very different from the few republicanist idealists among the plotters against Caligula—like Gn. Sentius Saturninus or the tribune Cornelius Sabinus—were their accomplices, who entered their own bids for the purple in the immediate aftermath of the tyrannicide (Jos. Ant. Jud., 19, 18) but failed to succeed through their own incompetence. Such were men like D. [?] Valerius Asiaticus, who contended for power despite being the confidant of Claudius mother, Antonia, and a close friend of Claudius himself; M.Vinicius, connected to the Imperial family by his marriage to Caligula’s sister Livilla; and, most awesome of them all, L.Annius Vinicianus, probably a close relative of M.Vinicius and apparently the mastermind of that conspiracy (cf. ibid., 18, 20, 49–59)—it was he who opposed the candidacy of Valerius Asiaticus for the emperorship (ibid., 252), in an attempt, presumably, to secure it for M.Vinicius, or even for himself. The abandonment of republicanist phraseology by the Pisonians was the result of the lesson they derived from this earlier conspiracy: their professed aim was the replacement of a grotesque emperor with a worthier candidate, and the majority did not contemplate the restoration of res publica vetus, the pre-Augustan Republic. The complete inefficacy of republicanist slogans had been proved definitively by the spectacular failure of the revolt of Camillus Scribonianus in AD 42 (Dio, 60, 15; Suet. Cl., 13). That experience also revealed the precariousness of sedition in the provinces, even if directed in part from the capital. Not until Galba’s success in AD 68 did the arcanum imperii, “the key to power,” become known: emperors could be made not

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only in Rome but elsewhere. The Pisonian conspirators, accordingly, chose to rely on traditional means. Who, then, were these people who chose drastic action while others, in desperate circumstances in which fear or ambition should have driven them to take any risk, displayed such amazing lack of initiative? Individual characteristics and social status were responsible f or differences in their views of means and goals. None seems, however, to have been motivated by desire f or reform of the sort that Seneca could well have felt at the very beginning of his career as Nero’s tutor. On the other hand, none of them was in immediate danger, and prospective gains were doubtful, so their motives, at least in part, may have been unselfish. The Pisonian conspiracy does not seem to exhibit, to any marked degree, those traits often claimed to be the social and psychological characteristics of the so-called opposition. No “dynastic dissidents,” properly speaking, participated in it. (To count Piso himself in this category on the grounds of the anecdotal incident mentioned earlier, that is, Caligula’s appropriation of his first wife, would be stretching the point too far.) Nor did it include individuals who felt any strong hereditary grievances against the regime. Only Plautius Lateranus had been expelled under Claudius from the curia, for alleged adultery with Messallina (Tac. Ann., 11, 36), but even he had been restored by Nero in the spirit of the “golden five years” (ibid., 13, 11) (see p. 14) and, one may suppose, had reasons to feel grateful. Several other plotters, including their leader, had been at various times numbered among Nero’s close friends. Nor can the adventure in any way be seen as inspired by the Stoics: Lucan’s motives, as will be argued, were far less lofty, and the virtuous praetorian participants must have been more familiar with Roman traditions of public behavior than with any prescriptions of Greek wisdom. Finally, no one of the upper-class conspirators can properly be assigned to the conservative-minded group of the “moral opposition,” men like Thrasea Paetus or Cassius Longinus. On the contrary, the morals of many of them were dubious, and they conducted themselves less than admirably in the moment of crisis. By contrast, the few conspirators who showed themselves to be virtuous were of much lower social status: a military tribune, a centurion, and, finally, a freedwoman. In sum, the motivations of the individual plotters were contradictory and confused. Most of them were without interest in philosophical matters or ethical principles or political commitment. In his original comment on the membership of the conspiracy, Tacitus remarks that they were motivated “as much out of hatred of Nero as by their sympathy with Gaius Piso” (Ann., 50, 48). The historian’s portrayal of the leader of the plot, however, cries out for additional information. We learn that Piso “was thought famous among the people because of his virtue, or an appearance that resembled it.” The ironical implication seems undercut by the praise that follows: “for he devoted his oratorical gifts to protecting his fellow citizens, was generous to his friends, and courteous and affable in his talk and manners, even when dealing with total strangers.” His appearance—“a piece of luck”—was also distinguished by reason of his impressive figure and countenance, but in the final analysis the man’s character is disapproved of

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as essentially immoral, since “far remote from his was a solid way of life, or frugality in pleasure, rather he was given to frivolity, ostentatiousness, and, on occasion, extravagance.” Tacitus concludes, not without bitterness: “This was met with general approval, since most people, indulging in sweet vice, are disinclined to have the exercise of supreme power too strict or austere” (ibid.). In fact, it is known (ibid., 59) that Piso eloped with and subsequently married Atria Galla, a beautiful woman of low origins, already the wife of his friend Domitius Silius—conduct not dissimilar to that of Nero himself in regard to Poppaea Sabina, her first husband Rufrius Crispinus, and her second husband Otho, his own intimate companion. He was also like the emperor in his interest in stage performances (which some of his associates saw as a demerit), and in his patronage of poets. It is not surprising, then, that Piso was a controversial figure, even among his fellow conspirators, and certainly his behavior at the crucial moment did him little credit. At the same time, the man appears to have had considerable charisma. There is even extant an unremarkable bit of poetry, the Laus Pisonis, which glorifies his presumed virtues, including his excellence in physical sports and even in the chess-like game of latrunculi (178–208). In agreement with Tacitus’ character sketch, the poem celebrates, at length, Piso’s forensic activities. He is commended for …freedom, with no blood drawn, to conduct mild warfare before the judge ordained by law. Hence too comes the distinction of saving a fellow citizen: and so victorious palms enwreathe the lofty portals. Come now, eloquent youth, o’er-climb the titles of your forbears and the honors of ancestral fame; outstep by forensic exploits the renown of arms (27ff.; Loeb translation) and further on the poem puts an emphasis on his loyalty to his clients: Which of your dependants, eloquent youth, approaches your threshold in poverty, who is not welcomed and enriched by a generous indulgence with the aid of unexpected income? And what may well be more precious than any gift, you esteem him as an equal: neither the fortune nor the pedigree of dependants influence you: uprightness is the test in them. (109ff.) It would be interesting to know what kind of cases Piso chose to advocate. Under Nero’s regime even to plead some criminal cases against a powerful opponent would have demanded a certain amount of courage. In any event, his conspicuous charitable

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actions in the courts and, even more so, his command of loyal and extended clientela, must have significantly contributed to Piso’s prominence. Still, none of this, even his popularity with the masses, can fully explain the conspirators’ choice of Piso as their leader and as the claimant to supreme power. We can assume that many of them belonged to his habitual coterie, but this still does not answer the question why the praetorian officers, largely independent of senatorial politicians, originally approved the candidacy of a man whose moral reputation was so dubious as to make them consider at a later stage his repudiation and replacement. The historical record shows that under the Julio-Claudians only those related either to the Imperial family itself (as were all of the Junii Silani) or to the powerful group of families who traced their ancestry chiefly to Pompey the Great (among them, the Scribonii Libones, the Arruntii, the Aemilii Lepidi) dared to engage in serious conspiratorial activities. Piso’s closest link to the dynasty, as earlier mentioned, was the episode of Caligula’s abduction of his wife—hardly sufficient to substantiate a stand for the emperorship. Among other things, the Pisonians had to confront the formidable problem of a new representative image for the change of dynasty they were contemplating. The deified Caesars, Julius included, were of little help. By this time much resentment must have accumulated in certain senatorial quarters against domus Caesarea—the Imperial dynasty which, although it was of no nobler descent than several other surviving families of the old stock, usurped the power to rule over them all. In terms of existimatio, any Julio-Claudian figure had to be contrasted with, and superseded by, a worthier symbol that might connote the idea of a supreme national leader but at the same time be acceptable to the majority of senators. A close reading of the eighth book of Lucan’s Bellum Civile, most likely written by the poet at the time of his involvement in the plot, seems to suggest Pompey as the historical figure whom the conspirators may have intended to exploit for their political and propagandistic purposes. Pompeius princeps, a consul sine collega, would have fittingly filled the bill. It is in this context that the problem of Piso’s genealogy becomes acute. Prima facie, it is surprising that his parentage is unknown. It is not Tacitus’ custom to introduce important individuals into his discourse without first explaining their origins. We have seen, however, that Piso was mentioned earlier in the narrative, in reference to the obscure charges against him and Seneca (Ann., 14, 65). But again, there is no information on his descent. This leads to the conjecture that Piso’s initial introduction into the narrative of the Annales must have occurred earlier still, in a book now lost, most likely in connection with the episode about his wife in Caligula’s reign. That would have been an appropriate moment for the historian to discuss his ancestry, which would allow him, when he came to the conspiracy, merely to remind his reader that Piso, “owing to his father’s aristocratic pedigree, was closely linked to many outstanding families” (ibid., 15, 48). Let us suppose, then, that Piso was, in fact, a descendant of Pompey and that Tacitus had indicated this. For Piso to have been related to Pompey, all that is necessary is to assume the existence of a single woman from the Scribonian, Aemilian,

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or Arruntian clans as his parent or grandparent. Given Roman practice, even adoption would have amounted to the same thing, nor would this have been anything new for the Pisones, who had traditionally made reciprocal adoptions with, for instance, the Licinii Crassi—of which the latest example, Piso Licinianus, was in fact a direct descendant of Pompey. As was earlier argued, the humiliation Piso had suffered under Caligula would hardly have prompted this easy-going sybarite to embark on so dangerous an adventure. He possessed considerable capacity for dissimulatio, for he accepted the consulship around AD 48 and he indulged, as the Laus Pisonis tells us, in adulatio by delivering a panegyric of the emperor (65ff.). Whatever the substance of Romanus’ denunciation, Tacitus insists that Piso was frightened in spite of his acquittal and that it was this event that forced him to embark on the perilous career of a conspirator (Ann., 14, 65). Fear, then, and, conceivably, the growth of the public’s esteem for him, his existimatio, tipped the balance in favor of a revolutionary act. And, in contrast to most of the “dynastic dissidents,” ambition prevailed in him over fear. Otherwise he would have kept a low profile as they did, happy to be left in peace. But the paralyzing effect of continuous dissimulatio is reflected in his indecision and procrastination, which were partly responsible for the failure of the enterprise. Tacitus, in fact, implies that he was not even the prime mover of the conspiracy called by his name—“It is not easy for me to record who was the originator or by whose instigation it was set in motion, since so many took it up” (ibid., 15, 49)—while Dio’s account of the plot does not mention his name at all. In addition, Piso’s candidature for emperor did not enjoy the unanimous support of his own confederates. The praetorian faction, it is said, seriously considered Seneca for the job (ibid., 65), and the names of L.Iunius Silanus Torquatus and of the consulelect M.Iulius Vestinus Atticus were also whispered about (ibid., 52). The literary element was surprisingly prominent in the conspiracy’s make-up. Afranius Quintianus, a senatorial participant, was offended by Nero’s libellous verse (ibid., 49). Both Seneca and Petronius perished in the aftermath of the affair. And Piso himself was a renowned patron of the arts and even a man of letters. Thus are his performances, in Greek, described by the author of the Laus: Moreover, Greek culture flows readily from Roman lips, and Athens meets a weighty rival in his accents. Witness, eloquent Naples that founded her walls under Acidalian auspices and repeats the skills of Euboea. What lustre, ye gods above, what lustre shines on the fair language of his lips! Here words sparkling in compact splendor have filled out his choice passage; here, decked out with tropes there flies to the hearer from the freed lathe a swift epigram. (90–6)

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And his further improvisations in poetry and music are implicitly likened to no less than those of Apollo (163–72). Had the lines been addressed to him, Nero’s vanity would have been flattered by such a comparison; he was accustomed to being hailed as Apollo (cf., e.g., Luc., 1, 33ff.) and to having his artistic genius admired. To find the same kind of eulogy addressed to someone else must have annoyed the emperor considerably. Piso’s posture as a patron of the arts was equally distasteful to the emperor because it rivaled his own. One gets the impression that Piso made an attempt to play under Nero a role similar to that of Messalla Corvinus under Augustus. As Messalla Corvinus patronized Tibullus and Ovid, so Piso patronized a number of poetasters, among them, certainly, the youthful author of the Laus (still in his adolescence (cf. 259ff.)) and, probably, one Calpurnius Siculus. There are reasons to believe that it was Piso who appeared under the name of Meliboeus in Calpurnius Siculus’ Eclogae (1, 94; 4, esp. 29–63, 157–63). If this identification is accepted, then both poets expected Piso to act the part of their Maecenas, that is, to seek Imperial favor for his protégés (cf. Laus, 230ff., 246ff., 253ff., 256ff.; also Calp. Sic., 1, 94; 4, 36ff., 157ff.). One wonders, however, whether he simply made little effort to introduce Calpurnius Siculus to the court, or failed to do so because of his deteriorating relationship with Nero. As is apparent from the last eclogue, written no earlier than AD 63, this dream of the poet was still not fulfilled (cf., e.g., Calp. Sic., 7, 79ff.). Characteristically, Meliboeus is not mentioned in that poem at all. Either Calpurnius Siculus had been abandoned by his patron, or else the poet, sensing danger, preferred to withdraw from his protector’s attention. One can only hope that Piso’s pitiable literary dependants suffered no disaster in the wake of his downfall. V Lucan, Seneca, and Petronius were the three most prominent literary figures destroyed by the exposure of the Pisonian plot and its aftermath. Petronius and, almost certainly, Seneca were innocent of any subversive activities. In regard to Lucan, however, there can be no doubt that he joined the conspiracy, and my belief is that it was Nero’s artistic jealousy that proved the crucial factor in determining the poet’s fate (cf. Vacca, 15). We possess some additional evidence on Lucan beyond that provided by Tacitus, though its reliability is difficult to judge. None of the modern attempts at reconstructing the chronology of his political and literary career is conclusive. Born on November 3, AD 39 (Vacca, 12f.), into a prominent family—a grandson of the elder Seneca and a nephew of the younger Seneca—and taken to Rome at the age of seven months (ibid., 17), the future poet received an excellent education and apparently started his intellectual and creative pursuits in his early teens. He impressed his contemporaries as a child prodigy (cf. ibid., 22ff.). Indeed, considering how short his life was, his literary output seems extraordinary: we hear of no less than fifteen literary productions (of which only a few fragments have survived) besides the Bellum

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Civile. In AD 60 the young man was recalled from his philosophical studies in Athens by Nero, possibly with Seneca’s backing, and joined an intimate circle of Imperial literary friends (Suet. Luc., 9f.). He performed triumphantly at that year’s Neronia I, where he recited the Laudes Neronis (Vacca, 36ff.; cf. Stat. Silv., 2, 7, 58) and extemporized an epyllion on Orpheus, which was later published (Vacca, loc. cit.). And there is reason to believe that from the very beginning he was cultivated not only by the emperor, but also by the Senate (cf. Vacca, 26ff.; Stat. Silv., 2, 7, 46f.). On the issue of Lucan as a politician, modern views are widely divergent. He is seen as either a loyal “constitutionalist” or a clear-cut republicanist. But the character of his politics was less simple than is often assumed, and is better described in terms of confusion, contradiction, ambiguity, and ambivalence. Like many contemporaries, Lucan suffered the familiar mental and emotional conflicts, and we must distinguish between outbursts of emotion manifest in flowery rhetoric and the rational constituents of his motivation and behavior. A characteristic, and deep-seated, dissimulatio is traceable from the very start of his public career. Later on, colored by the rhetoricized mentality of the times, it pervaded his artistic expression. A courtier and a careerist (by the age of twenty-three or twenty-four he was already a senator, a quaestor, and a member of the college of augurs (Vacca, 13f.; cf. Suet. Luc., 10f.)), Nero’s eulogist and close literary companion, he nonetheless appears to have identified himself with senatorial sensibilities, and this to a much larger extent than his philosophical uncle, Seneca. Thus, even while he was still on excellent terms with the emperor, he could conceive a grand epic filled with hatred of the dynasty—domus Caesarea—and portraying the dynasty’s founder as evil incarnate. There is no evidence that Lucan’s entrance into the Pisonian conspiracy was “ideological”—that is, prompted by republicanist sentiments. Rather, our biographical sources unanimously assert that his action resulted from his personal (and, very likely, literary) quarrel with Nero (Vacca, 32ff.; cf. Suet. Luc., 10ff.). Tacitus deliberately contrasts in this respect Lucan’s predicament with that of Plautius Lateranus, who is portrayed as a man of principle: “Lucan was fired by personal grievances: the fact that his poems were suppressed by Nero, who had forbidden their public recitation out of jealousy of his rival” (Ann., 15, 49; cf. Vacca, loc. cit.). It is true that Vacca (27)—a late source—reports that the poet was also forbidden to plead in court. If this is to be believed, one might argue that the interdict also reflected the emperor’s political distrust of the poet. The actual pretext for the break between them is obscure. We learn that at some point Nero grew so angry that he abruptly called an emergency meeting of the Senate and left the building where Lucan was giving a poetic recitation (Suet. Luc., 11ff.). Whatever the circumstances of the quarrel, it seems not to have gone beyond personal animosity. Nero declared a “renunciation of friendship” with the poet, thereby signaling the latter’s disgrace and the loss of various privileges. Since Lucan thereafter could not officially publish his work-in-progress or recite it in public, his activities were reduced to the equivalent of modern “samizdat” literature. That is, the ban left him with the choice either of keeping entirely silent

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and composing “for the drawer,” with an eye toward posthumous fame only, or of acquainting a narrow circle of friends and sympathizers with his current writing orally or by circulation of a small number of manuscripts. In the latter case, the texts might eventually pass beyond the author’s direct control, but since he and his work were already deemed subversive by the supreme authority, this would have made little difference. The style of his outward conduct in these times, while suggesting that he felt deeply injured (cf. Vacca, 43f.), more closely resembled that of a capricious adolescent than of a conscientious politician: he amused himself by publicly delivering indecent jabs at Nero’s poetry and composing libellous verse. It was this mood that carried him into the conspiracy and allegedly made him its standard-bearer “making public harangues on the glory of tyrannicides, and full of threats, so intemperate that he boasted to offer Caesar’s head to any of his friends” (Suet. Luc., 22ff.). Lucan’s conduct after the exposure of the Pisonian conspiracy did not conform to the mos maiorum. He broke down, named his confederates, pleaded for mercy (Tac. Ann., 15, 57; cf. Suet. Luc., 20ff.), and is even reported to have insinuated his innocent mother’s involvement in the plot (Tac. Ann., 15, 56; Suet., loc. cit.), which, if true, calls for comparison with Nero’s own crime of matricide (cf. Suet., loc. cit.). All of this was in vain: he was ordered to suffer the death of his choice on April 30, AD 65. But, whatever his torment, and however shocking his behavior, he found sufficient energy in the last moment to play the hero and to die with dignity, summoning the shades from his own Bellum Civile: When his blood began to flow freely and he felt a chill in his hands and feet, realized that his heart was still warm and his intelligence coherent, and remembered a poem of his, in which he told of the wounded warrior’s dying in that fashion; so he recited these verses verbatim, and those were the last words he uttered. (Tac. Ann., 15, 70) Thus, during his final tragic adventure he proved as inconsistent as elsewhere in his life and writings. Among the Pisonians, the republicanist element, if any, was reduced to a minimum. There is a tendency to extol one of the prominent conspirators, Plautius Lateranus, as a champion of the old form of government and of ancient Roman virtues. He is one of the few whom Tacitus commends: “Lateranus, consul designate, had not joined because of any personal offense, but out of a love for the res publica [the commonwealth]” (Ann., 15, 49). He is also the only senatorial conspirator reported to have behaved courageously during the subsequent exposure (ibid., 60). Yet, the phrasing of the text by no means suggests that he contemplated the restoration of the pre-Augustan Republic. In this context, res publica certainly means the state, the commonwealth, the public interest. Tacitus’ point was to contrast Plautius Lateranus, who, according to the historian, acted on an abstract principle, with the rest of the conspirators, and, most immediately, with Lucan (ibid.), who were motivated by

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selfish grievances. Plautius Lateranus’ previous career does not indicate any republicanist sentiment: the reputed lover of Messallina (ibid., 11, 30), he escaped a sentence of death owing to the influence of his famous uncle, A.Plautius Silvanus Britannicus, but was expelled from the curia (ibid., 36); he was later restored to the Senate by Nero (ibid., 13, 11), to whom he therefore owed a beneficium. As in the case of Lucan, however, the crucial fact is that Plautius Lateranus joined a thoroughly monarchist conspiracy with the sole purpose of replacing an unseemly emperor with a man whom he considered better suited for the job. At best, he may have been a “constitutionalist” and a “legalist” who advocated libertas as the rule of law. Plautius Lateranus’ moral qualities, however, seem to have been dubious, despite Tacitus’ praise. His subsequent fearless conduct makes it appear unlikely that Messallina intimidated him into a love affair with her, and adultery with the emperor’s wife was a far cry from the mos maiorum. This makes one wonder whether selfless idealism and concern for the nation’s welfare were the man’s only motives, though it is clear that at some point his dissimulatio crumbled: Tacitus emphasizes his “vivid hatred” of Nero (Ann., 15, 49). There seems, however, to have been no inherited animosity against the dynasty nor any serious familial opprobrium. Many of his relatives were loyal collaborationists. His uncle, the conquerer and first governor of Britain, died peacefully, while his kinship to A.Plautius iuvenis, Agrippina’s alleged lover and Nero’s victim, was at best distant. On the other hand, the link of the Plautii to the Julio-Claudian family was indirect and tenuous—through Plautia Urgulanilla, Claudius’ first wife in a short-lived marriage ending in scandal (Suet. Div. Cl., 26)— and not enough to put him in danger on these grounds or to encourage his ambitions. The rest of the senatorial conspirators seem to have had no serious moral or political motives. Two of them in particular, Flavius Scaevinus singled out as Piso’s intimate friend (Tac. Ann., 15, 55), and Afranius Quintianus, are treated by Tacitus most unkindly—“Scaevinus had a mind weakened through dissipation and led a languorous and somnolent life. Quintianus was notorious for his physical effeminacy” (ibid., 49)— and he prefaces this harsh description by registering his surprise that such characters became involved in so desperate an enterprise. Although one may argue that Flavius Scaevinus, for instance, later revealed a more interesting personality and at least a few redeeming qualities, Tacitus’ judgment on these men and others of their ilk seems largely correct. Their subsequent conduct often appears grotesque, particularly in the light of their pomposity and ambition. Once exposed, they immediately collapsed and proceeded to betray one another with astonishing readiness, seemingly competing with each other in bad faith while at the same time also ruining their military confederates. Even the dynamics of dissimulatio are in their case of little interest. At best, they suffered from a conflict of petty interests and passions. VI We learn also of equestrian participation in the plot, and Tacitus even supplies a list of names: Cervarius Proculus, Vulcacius Araricus, Iulius Augurinus, Munatius Gratus,

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Marcius Festus, Antonius Natalis, and Claudius Senecio (Ann., 15, 50). He coolly—and vaguely—remarks that they were “pursuing hopes by a coup.” It seems plausible that most of them followed the lead of their senatorial patrons—thus, of Antonius Natalis we know that he was Piso’s closest confidant (ibid., 50, 55). Claudius Senecio was close to Nero even at the time of his affair with the freedwoman Acte, and, enjoying a particular intimacy with him, “maintained a pretense of friendship, even then, thereby making the perils he was exposed to more numerous” (ibid., 50). This man, then, was an equestrian equivalent of Vestinus Atticus or Petronius, an Imperial amicus constantly threatened by disgrace. However, given Claudius Senecio’s lower social status in comparison with, say, an Otho or a Fabricius Veiento, both of the senatorial order, his fall from favor would result in far graver consequences for him than for the former: not a mission to a distant province, or exile, but, very possibly, loss of life. On the other hand, Nero’s temper and temperament were likely to have made this predicament unbearably humiliating, so that, faced with the necessity of perpetual dissimulatio and the fear of inevitable ruin, he preferred the danger of revolution. In the course of his narrative Tacitus continues to emphasize the incongruity of the whole crew: “It is bewildering that in a group composed of persons of different social status, family background, age, sex, rich and poor, the whole matter was still kept under the cloak of secrecy” (ibid., 54). With a growing sense of surprise, one realizes that the plot included a “conspiracy within the conspiracy” made up of a tight group of praetorian officers who, by and large, acted independently of the senatorial dissidents and pursued different goals. In fact, Piso is not mentioned at all in Dio’s version of the story, where it is claimed instead that Tigellinus’ colleague, the prefect L.Faenius Rufus, and Seneca (!) were the ringleaders. Although, as will be shown, Dio’s account is often vitiated by errors, this particular error is telling, for it must have reflected a popular view of the extent and significance of military participation in the affair. It was the junior praetorian officers who, following in the footsteps of Cassius Chaerea and his associates, acted as the driving force behind the plot (the complex game played by the prefect Faenius Rufus will be treated separately (see pp. 116ff.)). Dio’s emphasis on the military indirectly concurs, however, with Tacitus’ discussion. Following his statement that Piso was drawn into a conspiracy which he did not initiate, Tacitus makes it clear that “as its most energetic members stood out Subrius Flavus, the tribune of the praetorian cohort, and Sulpicius Asper, the centurion—a fact demonstrated by the constancy with which they met their end” (ibid., 49). Subrius Flavus, the senior of the pair and a dynamic man, cuts a colorful figure in both Tacitus and Dio (Tac. Ann., 15, 49ff., 58, 65, 67ff.; Dio, 62, 34): at least three times he expresses his eagerness to kill Nero with his own hands, and it is not impossible that he entertained such an intention even before the conspiracy began taking shape. We are told that in addition to these men, two other praetorian tribunes, C. Gavius Silvanus and Statius Proximus, together with two other centurions, Maximus Scaurus and Paulus Venetus, joined in the plot (Ann., 15, 50).

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There was undoubtedly a real tension within the ranks of the conspirators, which may have precipitated the nervous collapses many of them suffered and the eager confessions they blurted out, and this tension is evidence of the conflict in their hidden ambitions and their divergent purposes. They were also anxious about publicity: as the plot ripened, they proceeded to debate at length on the time and particularly the place of the tyrannicide. Subrius Flavus, a sort of loose cannon, seems more than once to have been prepared to play Cassius Chaerea, offering to kill Nero while the emperor sang on stage—probably during the upcoming Neronia II—or even amid the turbulence of the Great Fire, “when, as his palace burned, he was rushing to and fro through the night unescorted” (ibid.). Inquiring into his motives, Tacitus suggests that, although in the latter instance it was Nero’s solitude that the tribune considered advantageous for perpetrating the deed, it was, on the other hand, precisely the opportunity of a public assassination that, “the crowd, by the simple fact of its presence, being always the best witness of such an exploit, fired his spirit” (ibid.), and he says that Subrius Flavus restrained himself only out of his concern for a safe escape. Tacitus implies that fear of betrayal precipitated the next stage of the plotters’ deliberations. For a time, they considered murdering Nero at Baiae, in a villa belonging to Piso, whose hospitality the emperor often enjoyed, “dismissing his guards and the burden of his [Imperial] fortune” (ibid.). This, in fact, would have been a reiteration of the trick Nero himself had earlier adopted in his own disposal of Agrippina—to disorient the intended victim with the luxury of “bath and banquet,” and only then to strike the blow. It was the leader of the plot, however, who eventually objected to the plan, first of all under the lofty pretext that the law of hospitality must not be abused (ibid., 52) and, second, for the familiar reason that the glorious deed should be accomplished in a conspicuous place and in public view. Tacitus, however, well versed in politics, discards both these excuses as a coverup. Piso, he suggests, was reluctant to absent himself from the capital and allow the initiative to be taken by some other aspirant to power, such as Silanus Torquatus, the last surviving descendant of Augustus, or the enterprising consul Vestinus Atticus (Tac. Ann., 15, 50). Silanus Torquatus, according to Tacitus, might have been chosen by men who had held aloof from the conspiracy, or even by those “who felt compassion for the murdered Nero as the victim of a foul crime” (ibid.)—an interesting point, since the alleged claimant was known to have received a strict traditional upbringing at the hands of his formidable uncle, the lawyer C.Cassius Longinus. As for Vestinus Atticus, Piso’s fear of him (as it follows from Tacitus’ narrative) seems no less telling: “lest he restore liberty or, by choosing someone else to be emperor, turn the commonwealth into an object of his arbitrary dispensation” (ibid.). In any event, the majority concurred with the opinion of their leader, and during the final round of negotiations they resolved to act in a grand manner, filled with selfimportance, and finally decided to carry out their plan during the games in the circus in honor of Ceres, which lasted from April 12 till 19. This was because although the

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emperor rarely appeared in public he did attend the circus, and was more accessible because of the festive mood. They planned their attack so that Lateranus, a man of enormous size and unwavering spirit, would pretend to be pleading for a subsidy for his estate and fall at the knees of the Emperor in the position of a suppliant, then, taking him by surprise, throw him on the ground and pin him. At this point, while he was still prostrate and unable to move, the tribunes and centurions, and any of the others with enough audacity, were to run up and slaughter him. (ibid.) This scene of action was borrowed from the murder of Caligula, while the actual scenario closely followed the assassination of Julius Caesar. This was not due to the plotters’ lack of imagination; rather, the stylization was quite deliberate. For Romans, precedent was always a matter of the utmost importance and was to be followed whenever possible, and the powerful spell cast by the tradition of tyrannicide was demonstrated more than once. Meanwhile, events took an unexpected turn with the intervention of a woman, Epicharis, of puzzling background and activities. Tacitus, however, makes it clear that she, together with Plautius Lateranus and the two praetorian officers, represented the intransigent core of the conspiracy. A freedwoman, she possessed such an outstanding character that it forced even Tacitus to transcend his habitual social prejudices. She introduced into this affair, presided over by senators and the military, an element of the “sordid plebs,” highly unusual for this kind of intrigue. But the nature of senatorial politics makes it very unlikely that Epicharis, even though she was evidently a remarkable person, acted as an independent agent. She must have pursued the interests of her patron, whoever he may have been. The fact that we do not know the name of Epicharis’ former owner makes an enigmatic gap in Tacitus’ account of the conspiracy. The very logic of it implies that her patron was aware of the plot and was playing a game of his own. Tacitus must have known his name, and it is difficult to explain his silence about it, unless the historian felt it particularly embarrassing to reveal the role of this mysterious personage. If such was the case, it may be hypothesized that, first, this role was unsavory and, second, that the man in question was related to those whom Tacitus had no wish to offend, either to the ruling house of his own day—and this would lead in the direction of Nerva, the first of the so-called “good emperors” and the adoptive father of Trajan—or to the circle of the historian’s own friends. Polyaenus (8, 62) mentions that Epicharis had been the mistress of M.Annaeus Mela, brother of Seneca and father of Lucan. Even if true, this does not mean that he was her patron or that he participated in the conspiracy. In fact, he almost certainly did not, although he may have known of it. That he managed to outlive its exposure by a year or so speaks strongly of his innocence. Besides, throughout his life Annaeus Mela studiously

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avoided political activities, following the advice of his father, the old Rhetor (Contr. 2 praef. 5.4). The identity of Epicharis’ patron being thus unknown, her own motives remain unclear. Her wide circle of acquaintances—from her closeness with the Pisonians to her familiarity with high officers of the Imperial navy—strongly suggests that she was a professional courtesan, or, according to the practices of the times, was regularly made available by her patron to chosen individuals in exchange for beneficia. The circumstances under which Epicharis entered the plot are obscure. Her passion and commitment seem to imply personal motivation, perhaps even related to some sexual outrage, besides serving her patron’s interests. Tacitus emphasizes that before this time she was far removed from political life and from “any concern for what was honorable” (Ann., 15, 51). Still, her profession required dissimulatio, even if of a peculiar sort. And that dissimulatio, given the right provocation, might have become unbearable. It is easy to imagine a moment of particularly cruel sexual humiliation, of the sort that Nero and his coterie were so imaginative in inflicting upon their victims, to explain Epicharis’ unmitigated hatred of the emperor. Epicharis may even have acted on her private initiative, going beyond her patron’s instructions, when she tried to sow subversion among the command of the Imperial fleet at Misenum (ibid.) and to recruit an acquaintance—very likely, one of her former lovers—the navarch Volusius Proculus. She believed him to belong to the discontented among Nero’s henchmen. He had been one of Nero’s instruments in his matricide, and he seemed to her to be disappointed by the lack of reward for his services (ibid.). To place her trust in such a character was a clear miscalculation, even if the advantages were substantial should he be converted to the plot. Tacitus makes Epicharis, after reciting to Volusius Proculus a list of Nero’s crimes, speak as a true “constitutionalist”: “Nothing [by way of power] is left for the Senate or for the People!” (ibid.). This, of course, does not signify any mature political stand on her part, but either echoes her patron’s views or reflects Tacitus’ own public apprehensions. Volusius Proculus immediately informed on Epicharis, which led to her arrest but not much more. Wisely, while soliciting the navarch’s support, she had refrained from disclosing the names of her confederates, and when confronted with him face to face she resolutely denied all his allegations. The emperor, however, was put on alert, since, as Tacitus tells us sarcastically, “Nero did not consider charges false unless they were proven true” (ibid.). It is not known whether other members of the conspiracy were aware of Epicharis’ activities. Nor is it known whether her arrest precipitated their next moves. An element of theatricality in their preparations tends to suggest that it did not. For instance, Flarius Scaevinus, who volunteered to strike the fatal blow, went so far as to procure for his glorious deed a “sacred” dagger from the Temple of Public Safety (or, according to another version, the Temple of Fortune, of the town of Ferentinum in Etruria) and displayed it regularly on his person (ibid., 53). Piso himself chose not to take part in the act of murder, whether of his own volition or on the advice of his associates, the rationale evidently being their concern

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for public existimatio—a future emperor must keep his hands free of blood, particularly that of a predecessor who most of the time enjoyed considerable popularity with the masses. It was expected that, during the time needed for the tyrannicide, Piso would install himself at the Temple of Ceres, near the Circus Maximus, and from there proceed to the praetorian camp accompanied by the prefect Faenius Rufus and other officers. Tacitus takes exception to the version of Pliny the Elder, who claimed that Antonia, the widow of Faustus Cornelius Sulla and Claudius’ daughter and only surviving immediate relative, consented to appear at the side of the leader of the plot “in order to elicit the favor of the mob” (Ann., 15, 53). He calls the rumor absurd because the lady would not have entrusted “her name and safety to the perils of empty hope,” nor would Piso, “known, as he was for his love for his wife,” have considered entering into another marriage. This last reservation is, however, qualified in its turn: “unless the desire for domination burns stronger than all other affections.” What is actually implied here is yet further confirmation of the general belief in the importance for an Imperial pretender of a link with the ruling dynasty. But Piso would have no need of such a union if he was descended, as I earlier suggested, from Pompey and was prepared to exploit that connection to bolster the legitimacy of his projected coup and the new government’s subsequent public image. The decisive proof, however, that Antonia was in no way involved in the plot is the mere fact that she outlived its exposure. In view of the conspirators’ eventual readiness to confess and to proffer names, she would not have stood the slightest chance, if implicated, of emerging as she did unscathed. We know little about her character, but she does not appear to have been as forceful and as enterprising as some other Imperial ladies. There were reasons for her being perceived at the time as one of the discontented practicing dissimulatio—Nero’s murder of her husband would be more than sufficient cause for this—but it is pure conjecture that she entertained hopes of an Imperial position for herself, for her murdered husband Cornelius Sulla, or for anyone else; otherwise, she would never have rejected Nero’s later offer to marry her, a gesture that cost her her life (see pp. 136f.). VII The conspirators’ penchant for theatricality was the immediate cause of their exposure. On the eve of the intended tyrannicide, Flavius Scaevinus, self-appointed as Nero’s executioner, proceeded to prepare for the murder in an ostentatious and ritualistic manner, even drawing attention to the weapon, which he already considered sacred. We are told that on his return home after a lengthy conference with a co-conspirator, Antonius Natalis, he “signed his will, and, drawing his dagger… from its sheath, he complained of its being old and dull and ordered it to be sharpened on a whetstone until its edge shone” (Tac. Ann., 15, 54), entrusting the supervision of this task to his freedman Flavius Milichus. He conducted himself in a pointedly ominous manner before his household, and his behavior is described as erratic: “He

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treated himself to a more sumptuous dinner than usual, presenting his favorite slaves with their freedom and others with gifts of money.” This last gesture of enfranchising his slaves and bestowing gifts on them had in fact by this time become customary in senatorial circles when one was sentenced to death or felt doomed to destruction (cf., e.g., Ann., 16, 11; 18). This could not but alert the suspicions of those present to some vague and impending danger. As if not content with all this and seeking to add still further to the feeling of suspense, the conspirator reportedly issued orders to the same freedman to procure bandages and various medicines for nursing wounds—a foolish thing to do, since should the conspiracy succeed, there would be ample opportunity for him to receive medical treatment, while if it failed, he would not have need for it at all. Tacitus is unsure whether, in fact, Milichus had been privy to the plot earlier or began to suspect it because of his master’s theatrics. But Flavius Scaevinus’ performance must have been recognized by his freedman as implying some kind of political subversion, and thus as directly affecting his own fate. Speculating on Milichus’ motives, Tacitus maintains, with his habitual social arrogance, that it was owing to his slavish soul that when he was confronted with the thought of the reward for perfidy and the prospect of wealth and power, sacred duty, the safety of his patron and the grant of liberty received from him disappeared from his memory. (Ann., 15, 54) But the role of fear is also acknowledged: Milichus is said to have followed the advice of his wife, “womanish and baser,” who pointed out to him that if he did not play informer, someone else of their master’s household would do so and reap the reward. This comment, which makes palpable the atmosphere of universal suspicion in which all these people, even those of lower rank, lived, is not surprising: the authorities could easily subject to harsh treatment any person, innocent or not, belonging to the household of a person condemned as a criminal. Though he had only the “sacred dagger,” which he had stolen, as evidence, Milichus’ momentous denunciation of his master to Epaphroditus, the Imperial secretary a libellis, resulted in Nero’s personal intervention. Flavius Scaevinus was summoned to the palace and confronted with the informer. His immediate response belies Tacitus’ earlier contempt for his character. He repudiated his freedman’s charges with a series of ingenious lies: the dagger in question had long been venerated by his family and was purloined by his accuser with nefarious designs; to rewrite or make changes in his will was his regular habit, as it was to grant his slaves freedom or gifts, but this time he did so all the more liberally since his wealth had deteriorated under the pressure of creditors and he wanted to provide for them while he still had the means; likewise, as to his dinner entertainment, which, it was pointed out, had been excessively lavish, he was accustomed to a life of pleasure and did not care about the opinions of stern moralists (Tac. Ann., 15, 55). If this last point reflects the

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suspect’s true words, it was a shrewd move, for it would certainly have evoked the sympathy of Nero, himself a paragon of libertinage. The accused failed to account for the bandages and medical equipment he had ordered, claiming that this was mere invention, but proceeded firmly in his turn, Tacitus tells us, to accuse his freedman of treachery and villainy “with so much confidence in his voice and countenance that the informer’s story was on the point of collapsing” (ibid.), and he almost won an acquittal. His undoing, however, was the secret interview Flavius Scaevinus had had with Antonius Natalis the day before, which Milichus’ wife remembered, as well as the intimacy both of them enjoyed with Piso. Nero was suspicious of close friendships among influential individuals; in Rome, the concept of amicitia possessed a traditional connotation of political alliance: one may recall similar allegations made against Seneca and the same Piso by Romanus three years earlier (p. 75). The arrest and interrogation of Antonius Natalis sealed the fate of the conspiracy (ibid., 56). His version of their secret conversation differed from the one offered separately by Flavius Scaevinus. Threats of torture led to the breakdown of both men, who started revealing names: Antonius Natalis admitted Piso as the leader of the plot and also mentioned Seneca (whose case demands, and will receive, special discussion), and Flavius Scaevinus followed suit by divulging the names of the rest of the plotters, among them Lucan, Afranius Quintianus, and Claudius Senecio. This resulted in a chain reaction, and after some futile resistance these three broke down as well (ibid., 57)—so completely that Lucan is said to have implicated his own mother, Acilia, and the other two their best friends (ibid.), P.Glitius Gallus and Annius Pollio, respectively. At this point Epicharis re-enters Tacitus’ narrative to play the role of martyr. Nero, recalling the earlier information provided by Volusius Proculus, ordered that she be tortured, but “neither flogging, nor burning, nor the mounting ferocity of her torturers, determined to break her and not to be defeated by a woman, could cow her into withdrawing her denial of the charges” (Tac. Ann., 15, 57; cf. Dio, 62, 27, 3). On the following day, by now a physical wreck, she nonetheless managed to commit suicide by strangling herself with her breastband. In fact, she proved to be the only Neronian dissident who committed suicide for the sake of principle, without an order to do so—an incarnation of practical Stoicism. This heroic act, rivaling the display of virtue by famous men of the past, so powerfully impressed Tacitus that he overcame his deep-rooted social prejudice and celebrated Epicharis in a pointed and unique epitaph, while at the same time giving way to bitter resentment at the unworthy conduct of his own peers: Mere freedwoman that she was, she set a most glorious example, even under so much duress, by protecting persons who were strangers and virtually unknown to her, and at a time when men who were freeborn and Roman knights and senators, without being subjected to any torture, were betraying people and things nearest and dearest to them.

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(Ann., 15, 57) The passage shows Tacitus’ appreciation of the moral point: it is an individual’s stand, not status, that makes that individual outstanding. On the day of the disclosure of the Pisonian plot, April 19, Nero retaliated by declaring a state of emergency, or martial law, which Tacitus describes with rhetorical skill and perhaps some dramatic exaggeration: He even put, so to say, the whole city under lock and key, garrisoning the walls with companies of soldiers and occupying the banks of the sea and river. The commandos of horsemen and footsoldiers darted to and fro amid the squares and houses, and even in the country fields and nearby municipalities, joined by German troops whom the Emperor trusted since they were foreign. Afterwards there were incessant hordes of chained prisoners making their way to the gates of the [Servilian] gardens. And when they were brought in to plead their case, it was counted as a crime to have displayed pleasure at the sight of one of the conspirators, or to have had a chance conversation with them, or an unplanned encounter in arriving at a banquet or a spectacle. (ibid., 58; cf. Dio, 62, 28, 4) One may note Dio’s (62, 28, 4) plausible allegation that Tigellinus, at the head of the investigation, took bribes from many to release them and save their lives. As for Piso himself, he succumbed at a decisive moment (Tac. Ann., 15, 58), a victim to the familiar paralyzing effect so characteristic of the dissident mentality of the time and explicable, at least in part, in terms of the lifelong habit of dissimulatio. We are told that some of his supporters urged their leader at the first signs of betrayal to move swiftly by entering the praetorian camp or by addressing the people from the rostra to test their mood and to spread unrest—“which is of greatest importance in revolutionary plans” (ibid., 59)—arguing that, when suddenly faced with such a display of strength and resoluteness, Nero and his henchmen would lose their nerve. The advice made sense: certainly, Piso could no longer rely on his immediate confederates, of whom the closest to him were even now on their way to exposing him. All this, however, failed to move him. Useless, too, were the prospects of ignoble execution, of which his friends, Tacitus says, reminded him so as to precipitate him into action, as were their pleas invoking libertas and the heroic precedents of the past. The failed pretender remained unmoved and preferred to die ignominiously by Imperial order, thereby entirely ignoring public expectations and the requirements of mos maiorum—all of which is proof of the contemporary ineptitude and the disintegration of traditional virtus. Having spent a brief time in public, the head of the conspiracy then chose to seclude himself at home and wait till a body of newly-recruited soldiers dispatched by the emperor arrived to finish him off. Gaius Piso died in the customary manner—by severing his own veins. No less a custom by this time, and one he followed obedi-

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ently—“for his love of his wife,” we are told—was posthumous flattery of the emperor by the condemned in a testamentary document (ibid.) with the aim of securing the physical safety of the surviving members of the family and even some piece of their inheritance, if by chance the entire estate was not to be confiscated. But what happened to Piso’s beloved wife, Atria Galla, after her husband’s death, we are not told. The senatorial members of the conspiracy, their leader included, thus demonstrated a lack of character and behaved erratically. They also neglected practical realities to such an extent that someone like Epicharis found it possible to act on her own. Given all this, it would be natural to expect that the military might have seized the initiative. Such must have been the intent of the radical junior officers involved in the plot, though the precise nature of their plans remains obscure and they were ultimately frustrated because of the conduct of their superior, the prefect L.Faenius Rufus (see pp. 114ff.). VIII This leads us to the issue of Seneca’s alleged participation in the Pisonian conspiracy. The case invites treatment as a criminal investigation, and the inquiry must be based on the presumption of innocence. The government indictment is not evidence: as Tacitus implies, Nero had plenty of reasons for wanting to rid himself for good of his former tutor (Ann., 15, 56; cf. ibid., 60). In fact, according to Tacitus, the only person to mention Seneca’s name was Antonius Natalis (ibid., 60), “whether because he had [actually] been a go-between for him and Piso or with a view to ingratiating himself with Nero” (ibid., 56). Furthermore, Seneca’s sole utterance, the words of salutation transmitted to Piso by Antonius Natalis, were seized upon by the prosecution as proof of his guilt: He [Natalis] stated only this much, that he had been sent to visit Seneca during his illness and find out why Piso was denied access to his house, since their habitual intimate friendship should be continued. To which Seneca replied that mutual exchanges and frequent conversations were not in the interest of either, but that his own welfare depended on the continuing safety of Piso. (ibid., 60) Seneca’s rejoinder, most likely, was a reference to their shared experience in the socalled “first Pisonian conspiracy” of three years before, and his last sentence represents a traditional Roman greeting formula of the “If you are well, then so am I” sort, but in this case rhetorically ornamented in the fashion of the times. Nonetheless, an inadvertent ambiguity in the phrase was seized upon by Nero, Poppaea Sabina, and Tigellinus as a pretext for the philosopher’s destruction. Nor should any weight be given to Dio’s categorical pronouncement (62, 24) that it was “Seneca…and Rufus, the prefect, and some other prominent men who formed

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a plot against Nero; for they could no longer endure his disgraceful behavior, his licentiousness, and his cruelty.” Dio refers here to the conspiracy known to history as the “Pisonian” (cf. Suet. Nero, 36) without even mentioning the name of its leader; the prominence given to Seneca as a participant is obviously due to the obsession of Dio’s source with him. At the same time, Dio’s distorted version may be related to an extraordinary rumor mentioned and even elaborated upon by Tacitus: There was a rumor that Subrius Flavus and the centurions had agreed in a conference which took place secretly, although not without Seneca’s knowledge, that once Nero was murdered as the result of Piso’s endeavors, this latter should be himself killed and the Imperial power transferred to Seneca so that he would seem chosen for the supreme position by men uninvolved [in the conspiracy] on the grounds of his shining virtues. (Ann., 15, 65) This rumor, however, even though it is not endorsed by Tacitus, cannot be dismissed as mere fiction: people must have been prepared to believe it true. One surprising fact is that there was no formal or public break between Nero and Seneca until the very end, that is, until the exposure of the Pisonian affair, though each of them must have had ample motives for wishing for such a break. For Nero, there was the childhood fear of his tutor, which still remained, resentment of his hypocrisy, and detestation of his moralism, as well as shameful memories and an understandable desire to destroy an accomplice in matricide; for Seneca, memories no less shameful, frustrated early affection, pain because of his shattered dreams of his pupil as a “just king,” abhorrence of the unspeakable acts perpetrated by this same pupil in recent years, the collapse of his own public career and, possibly, some nostalgia for his former power, and pangs of conscience. Seneca’s entire life, however, demonstrated his uncanny flexibility and capacity for adaptation despite a professed commitment to Stoicism, seen by many as the most intransigent of philosophies. His manifold experience in the ways of the court must have compelled him almost out of habit to dissimulate and thus to prevent the tension between them from reaching a point which might force—or allow—Nero to declare an official “renunciation of friendship,” as had happened with Lucan and with Thrasea Paetus. As for Nero, it is likely that, in addition to the enjoyment he derived from this cat-and-mouse game (cf. Suet. Nero, 35), the cause of his delay in striking the final blow was Seneca’s popularity, which was limited neither to his own coterie nor even to the curia. His remarkable charisma should be taken into account by those who deny his greatness as an individual, not to speak of his greatness as a statesman or a writer. Seneca’s personality and reputation make plausible the rumor that Subrius Flavus and his associates planned for him to succeed Nero. Seneca was a very experienced politician and had, moreover, been a close and successful long-term partner of their own esteemed prefect, Burrus. He himself makes it palpably clear in the De Clementia

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that under a monarchy it is the character of the monarch that primarily matters, and they may have reasoned that, after so much time and energy spent meditating and moralizing on matters of self-improvement, he was better qualified for both the role and the rule. Seneca’s concern for public welfare, his broadly conceived “constitutionalism” during his years of power were a matter of record. His relative indifference to the “liberty” or “dignity” of the Senate would scarcely have troubled the military, whose own feelings in this regard were little different. If the rumored praetorian deliberations on Seneca’s candidacy actually took place, it is more likely that it happened at the initial stage of the conspiracy. The matter could conceivably have been debated in the course of establishing tactics and strategy, as one of several options open to the plotters (another being, for instance, to support the young Silanus Torquatus)—but it was without Seneca’s knowledge. Otherwise, if the least scrap of evidence of his complicity had fallen into the hands of the authorities, they would have publicized it in official documents instead of clinging to the uncorroborated denunciation provided by Antonius Natalis, dependent on just a single ambiguous phrase from Seneca’s greeting to Piso. Perhaps Seneca’s kinship to Lucan helped to spread the tale of his involvement. The decisive point against Seneca’s having been privy to any praetorian designs on his behalf is the claim that he consented (Tac. Ann., 15, 65) to their alleged plan to assassinate Piso as well as Nero in order ultimately to install Seneca as emperor. To accept this claim goes against all evidence on Seneca’s character. All this, however, does not mean that he was unaware of the conspiracy’s existence. At least, that appears to have been Tacitus’ own belief, made clear by a brief remark on Seneca’s whereabouts on the day of the disaster. That day, we are told, he returned from Campania, “by chance or by intent,” and stayed at his country villa four miles from the city (ibid., 15, 61). It must also be conceded that the formula used in his response to Piso, which was exploited by the authorities as if it were proof of treason, can indeed be read as expressing his desire to dissociate himself from the plotter’s dangerous activities. Seneca could have learned of the affair through Lucan or somebody else, which, if my reading of his motives and behavior is correct, would only have strengthened his resolve to avoid Piso’s company. But if he was privy to the conspirators’ designs, I cannot imagine him doing otherwise than deploring them, so that his only connection with the plot would have been his knowledge of it and his feelings of disapproval, anxiety, and annoyance which may have surfaced in exchanges with his nephew or with others of his acquaintance among the conspirators. The discrepancy between the ill-conceived project of Piso and the others and the image of the meditative recluse that emerges from the Epistulae Morales is not decisive against the charge of Seneca’s complicity. His life was replete with worse discrepancies and contradictions. Yet one cannot entirely dismiss his pronouncements on tyrannicide, even though most of them are made in a highly rhetorical context (cf., e.g., De Clem., 1, 26, 1) and to read into them serious injunctions would be to violate the text. On the other hand, elsewhere he allows himself, in sharp contrast to his nephew Lucan, to condemn Marcus Brutus, the archetypical tyrannicide, on

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pragmatic grounds valid under any circumstances, and with direct reference to Stoic teaching on monarchy as the best form of government (De Ben., 2, 20, 2). Even more telling is his discussion of Caligula’s murder by Cassius Chaerea, where Seneca makes an argument, bearing the stamp of personal conviction, against the wise man’s involvement in political violence because these tyrants will inevitably be destroyed by others: “This, then, will be our comfort: even if by reason of tolerance we omit revenge, someone will arise to bring the impertinent, arrogant, and injurious man [i.e., the tyrant] to punishment” (De Const. Sap., 8, 5). Stoicism and, by extension, philosophy as such were frowned upon by Nero and his clique. They seem to have considered it hypocritical, distasteful, detestably moralistic, and as ultimately leading to political subversion. In the years of his retirement Seneca must have been aware of this growing suspicion of himself and his kind, which may account for his eloquent defense of philosophers vis-à-vis monarchs in one of his “moral letters” (Epist., 73). The apologetic tone of the discourse makes one suspect that there was an ulterior and personal motive that prompted him to take up the issue—very possibly the slander campaign against him instigated by Tigellinus and tutti quanti (cf. Tac. Ann., 14, 52) exploiting the prejudice that philosophers in general and the Stoics in particular were politically subversive and public nuisances. It seems that in the year of his retirement the gap between words and acts that had tormented Seneca all his life finally began to narrow, making the idea that he would act once again contrary to his stated beliefs and involve himself in a conspiratorial adventure with a motley and unreliable crew appear all the more improbable. When the moment of death, a matter on which Seneca so obsessively meditated, approached at last, he knew that he had arrived at his finest hour, where his teaching and his conduct could finally merge in harmony. Furthermore, he was aware that appropriate behavior at such a moment would immortalize him in history, serving his memory perhaps even better than any of his writings. There is no need to recast here in all its details Tacitus’ splendid account of Seneca’s “ultimate act” (Ann., 15, 62–4; cf. Dio, 62, 25), which is presumably based on contemporary, if perhaps partisan, testimonies, such as that of the friendly Fabius Rusticus (cf., e.g., Ann., 15, 61), but certain particulars of especial poignancy or pertinence to our subject are worth recalling. It was while at dinner in the company of his wife, Pompeia Paullina, and two friends that Seneca is said to have been notified of an Imperial inquiry into his alleged treacherous dealings with Piso and Antonius Natalis. The official message was brought to him by the tribune Gavius Silvanus, himself a praetorian member of the Pisonian plot. The villa, meanwhile, had been surrounded by guards. To the question whether he acknowledged having actually uttered the incriminatory salutation to Piso for which he had been denounced, Tacitus makes the philosopher reply evasively and not without a measure of adulation and habitual dissimulatio. The essence of that somewhat convoluted answer may be reduced to the statement that he avoided the company of the failed pretender solely on the grounds of his own poor health and his love of a quiet life, and that he would not have joined his welfare with Piso’s, as was charged, since it was, in effect, the emperor alone whose safety he might put before

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his own. At the same time, he had no intention of flattering the conspirator, or, for that matter, any other person: “No one knew that better than Nero himself, who experienced more often Seneca’s outspokenness than servility” (Tac. Ann., 15, 61). This last statement, even though it echoes his own written pronouncements (e.g., De Clem., 2, 2, 2), is hardly accurate: if genuine, it is an obvious conceit; if a fabrication, it suggests that the philosopher was believed to have continued dissimulating to the time of his death. A contemporary reader, and certainly Nero himself, must indeed have known better: the memory of both the Ad Polybium and the De Clementia still remained fresh. Such a reaction did not satisfy the “raving emperor” and his “intimate councillors” (Tac. Ann, 15, 61)—Poppaea Sabina and Tigellinus. And the officer’s report that Seneca showed no sign of alarm seems only to have hastened the inevitable verdict of death. Informed of his sentence and prevented by a centurion even from making changes in his will, Seneca, we are told, addressed his friends, as befitted a true sapiens, in a serene, even if somewhat pompous manner, pointing out to them that inasmuch as he was prevented from showing his gratitude for their services he was willing them the single, but most precious, thing still in his possession: the image of his life. If they were mindful of that, they would reap the glory of an exercise in virtue as a prize for constancy in friendship. (ibid., 62) Tacitus has him follow this harangue, in response to his friends’ outcry of grief, with a series of rhetorical points leading to one irrefutable conclusion about Nero: “Once mother and brother had been killed, there was nothing left to him but the murder of teacher and preceptor” (ibid.). This whole scene seems to have been, as Tacitus, not without irony, puts it, “intended for some community” (ibid., 63). To act publicly before witnesses was a prerogative of the Stoic sapiens. But Seneca’s life appears, in fact, to teach the unattainability of true wisdom rather than its supreme value. The final touch in Tacitus’ ambiguous handling of the matter is his mention of the two secretaries whom the dying philosopher summoned to his bedside after he had already opened his veins—“since even at the very last moment his supply of eloquence remained with him”—for the purpose of dictating to them some kind of discourse to be recorded and subsequently published (ibid.). And Tacitus informs us drily that since Seneca’s final pronouncements, “in his very own words,” were given publicity and mass recognition, he himself prefers to refrain from rendering them in his present narrative—a comment which, even if on the surface it observes the proprieties, may be read as sarcastically implying that he doubts the reader would benefit from yet another perusal of these “famous last words.” Clearly, in death as well as in life, Senecan philosophy required an audience if it was to work. The man himself may have transcended on his deathbed the contradictions that were woven into his whole biographical existence, but Tacitus evidently did not think so.

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A particularly moving incident in Seneca’s demise, one which captured the imagination of posterity, was the plea of his wife, Pompeia Paullina, for a suicide pact and her actual attempt to take her own life along with her husband. After his failure to persuade her, as Tacitus tells us, that “by contemplating his life, a life virtuously lived, she would find honest consolation that would allow her to endure the loss of her spouse,” he had eventually to yield to her demand for “the executioner’s stroke”—partly since he “was not averse to her [achieving] glory,” partly out of love and the fear of leaving her exposed to any outrage at Nero’s hands (ibid.). The veins of each were cut, but Seneca suffered a slow agony owing to his “senile body emaciated by frugal meals.” To speed his end, the philosopher called for poison which was provided by his trusted physician Statius Annaeus—hemlock, “which was used in Athens for executing those condemned by a public decree” (Tac. Ann., 15, 64), an obvious imitation of Socrates—but this too was in vain. Finally, the old man was placed in a basin of warm water and, after performing the traditional Greek rite of “sprinkling some on the slaves nearest to him and announcing the drops were a libation to Jupiter the Liberator [i.e., Zeus],” he was lifted into a hot bath where he expired, suffocated by the vapor. He was cremated without any funeral ceremony, in accordance with his own will, written “when, though he was eminently rich and powerful, he was already occupied with thoughts of his last hours” (ibid.). Seneca’s wife, Pompeia Paullina, transferred earlier to another room at the bidding of her dying husband, was saved by the timely intervention of the authorities. One must assume that the emperor had kept close watch over developments at his old tutor’s suburban villa, his messengers rushing back and forth between it and the Palatine. In Tacitus’ opinion, Nero ordered her death prevented because he did not feel any private animosity toward her and wanted to avoid further negative publicity from what had already happened (ibid., 64). Ill-wishers of the couple maintained, however—in fact charging her with dissimulatio—that the lady’s salvation happened not without her own final consent, and Tacitus, while he does not believe this, acknowledges that in this regard he remains uncertain. However, he immediately proceeds to praise her few remaining years of exemplary widowhood, “laudably faithful to the memory of her husband,” and remarks that for the rest of her life “her blanched countenance and limbs exhibited a pallor betraying the extent to which she had been drained of her vital spirit” (ibid.). IX Tacitus’ treatment of the exposure and execution of the praetorian conspirators in the scenes following Seneca’s death may be interpreted as his indirect comment on Seneca himself. The extraordinary performance of the tribune Subrius Flavus and, to a lesser extent, that of his junior colleague, the centurion Sulpicius Asper, are not only meant to provide a sharp contrast with the breakdown of their commander, Faenius Rufus, but to be also compared with what Seneca would consider his moral victory over evil and death.

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The two officers act as true champions of virtue. When eventually exposed by his senatorial confederates and arrested (though not before failing to persuade the prefect to allow him to kill Nero on the spot), Subrius Flavus indeed made a feeble attempt at deception by pleading innocent. But even then he is said to have placed the weight of his argument not on the circumstantial evidence, but on an appeal to a judgment of his character emphasizing his devotion to the mos maiorum: “At first he adduced, by way of defense, the difference of morals: he, a man accustomed to bearing arms, would never have entered an undertaking of such magnitude in association with unarmed effeminates” (Tac. Ann., 15, 67). His capacity for dissimulatio, however, was characteristically meager and swiftly exhausted, and when pressed by Nero to reveal the causes of his treason, he proceeded with an excellent expose of the charges against the emperor that for years had been accumulating in the minds of the dissident moralists. These charges were based on what we would now call “personal ethics,” not on any political or doctrinal principles, and it is noteworthy that Tacitus puts this sole direct incrimination of Nero by a subject in the mouth of a military man, not one of the philosophizing senators, and accompanies it by a pointed comment that “nothing happened in that conspiracy that wounded Nero’s ears more. He was prompt to commit crimes, but not accustomed to hear about what he had committed” (ibid.). Tacitus specifically says that he has reproduced Subrius Flavus’ message faithfully, since—and here is a telling touch—in contrast to Seneca’s final pronouncement, it was never made public, though “the unadorned and forceful views of a soldier were just as worth knowing.” Therefore, we must take it as a fact that in the course of his interrogation the praetorian tribune burst out with the following: “I hated you [he said], albeit there was no soldier more faithful to you as long as you deserved to be loved. I started to hate you once you turned matricide and wife-slayer, a chariot-driver, a stage actor and an incendiary” (ibid.; cf. Dio, 62, 24, 2). This list of immoral and criminal activities surprises a modern reader with its odd equation of, say, a matricide and a stage performance, but it must have been typical of the average mentality of the Romans. At the same time this brief statement makes an ingenious argument in its attempt to reconcile the conflicting aspects of the mos maiorum. There is, of course, pietas, which demands unconditional service to the state, now incarnate in the person of the emperor. On the other hand, should the emperor defy the prescribed code of behavior, thus destroying the mos maiorum in principle along with any respectable image of governmental authority, he must be destroyed for the good of all, himself included (cf. Suet. Nero, 36). Most of this was, of course, a matter of existimatio, but this last, a somewhat introspective and cleverer point, is said to have been driven home by another intrepid man, Sulpicius Asper. Questioned as to why he had conspired to murder Nero (Tac. Ann., 15, 68), he “curtly replied that, given the number of his abominations, that was the only service which could be offered to him” (ibid.; cf. Dio, 62, 24, 1)—a reply that cost him a death sentence courageously accepted. Yet the matter of existimatio, that is, the image of the bearer of power, also accounts well for Subrius Flavus’ reputed distrust of the candidacy of Piso, whose

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hedonistic lifestyle was still a far cry from ancestral traditions; we are informed that a saying of his circulated to the effect that “it would make no difference in regard to indecency if a lyre-singer were removed and a tragic singer installed in his place”— referring to Nero’s performance on the cithara and Piso’s in stage costume (Tac. Ann., 15, 65). Yet this is exactly the point where Subrius Flavus behaved inconsistently. Despite everything he said, and despite his resentment, he had to become a pragmatist and, in fact, to associate with “unarmed and effeminate men” whom he otherwise despised. This constituted his own residue of dissimulatio, rationalized as being necessary for a practical compromise, from which he seems to have freed himself only at the very end. Indeed he had no alternative, for any real resurgence of mos maiorum by now could amount to no more than wishful thinking. For such a character and his associates their rumored plan eventually to replace Piso with Seneca is not surprising: they could well have felt captivated by a popularized version of the dream of the “philosopher-king.” Subrius Flavus’ execution was entrusted to his fellow tribune Veianus Niger, and he met his death in the best tradition of Roman fortitude. Even in this there is no discipline, he said when he observed that the prepared grave would be too narrow for him, and upon being told to offer his neck firm to the blow, he rejoined: “Would that you could strike as firmly,” addressing the executioner, who barely succeeded in cutting off the head on the second try. (ibid., 67) The activities of Sulpicius Asper or Subrius Flavus were not the result of philosophical persuasion, despite the latter’s reputed negotiations with Seneca. The whole story of these praetorians, or, for that matter, of the woman Epicharis, provides a rare opportunity for a glimpse into the minds of far more ordinary people than the usual upper-class dissidents. Even though there is much evidence of the mass appeal and mass approval of the Imperial histrionics, there must have been in the streets of the capital, among the applauding “sordid plebs,” quite a few dissenters from all social strata who formed a part of the “Roman people” with a substantially more upright and conservative bent, whether soldiers, freedmen, or free-born proletarians. These people were outraged by the debasement of Imperial prestige, a fact which may account, at least in part, for the repeated popular disturbances vaguely mentioned or hinted at by our authorities (cf., e.g., ibid., 13, 25, 48; 14, 17, 45, 61). We are told that not only Sulpicius Asper but also other conspiratorial centurions “did not disgrace themselves by the way they met their penalty of death” (ibid., 15, 68)—conduct Tacitus deliberately contrasts with that of their superior, the praetorian prefect Faenius Rufus, a fellow conspirator and at the same time a colleague of Tigellinus. The rise and fall of L.Faenius Rufus is a classic example of dissimulatio that resulted not only in political and psychological ambiguity, a frequent feature of the dissident

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mind, but also ultimately led to what may be described as a “split personality.” According to Tacitus, Faenius Rufus started his career under Agrippina’s patronage and became her close associate. In fact, he is first mentioned in the Annales in the context of the concessions and remunerations received by Agrippina after her fierce and successful defense against a charge of plotting with Rubellius Plautus. We read that, having avenged herself on her accusers, she also “obtained rewards for her friends” (Tac. Ann., 13, 21). And the very next line opening the following chapter informs us that one of these rewards was the appointment of Faenius Rufus as prefectus annonae (ibid., 22). Elsewhere Tacitus praises his performance in that office, noting that “he handled the grain and food administration without profit to himself” (ibid., 14, 51), and acknowledges that his popularity with the masses on this account was behind Nero’s decision to promote him. Independent confirmation of Faenius Rufus’ successful management of the grain supply is provided by an inscription mentioning “Faenian granaries” (CIL 6, 37796). We may assume that the man displayed remarkable skills of survival and adaptation, that is, of dissimulatio, thus differing from his many comrades-in-arms. Despite his association with Agrippina (Tacitus makes Tigellinus insinuate that he was even her lover (Ann., 15, 50)), he survived her fall unharmed and was even appointed several years later, after the death of Burrus, to share in the office of praetorian prefect, a position of great power and a sure sign of Imperial trust. There are various ways to interpret this turn in his fortunes. Either Nero felt unable or unwilling to sweep out Agrippina’s “faction” entirely after she herself was eliminated, or else (which is more likely) Faenius Rufus, correctly foreseeing the outcome of the intrigue, indicated at the proper moment his change of loyalties, siding with Burrus and Seneca. There is yet another reason to believe in a particular connection between him and Seneca, that is, Tacitus’ remark that, after the philosopher’s own fall from power, the circumstances of Faenius Rufus worsened (ibid., 14, 57). Burrus’ death seriously destabilized the status quo. Seneca, one may presume, was struggling, at least for a short while, to preserve his “constitutionalist” course. But against the changing balance of influences he represented the sole remnant of the past, in opposition to Tigellinus, Poppaea Sabina, and the rest. It is possible that Nero chose Faenius Rufus as one of Burrus’ successors as a compromise, motivated by the same consideration that made him slow down the process of Seneca’s retirement, namely, the philosopher’s popularity. Even though Seneca’s resignation is said to have undermined his position and influence, Faenius Rufus nonetheless continued in his very important office. Does this mean that he managed once again to play the turncoat by signaling, subtly and in timely fashion, to Nero and Tigellinus that he was now prepared to renounce his loyalty to Seneca as he had earlier renounced his loyalty to Agrippina? Nero would have responded warmly to such a signal; Tigellinus apparently did not. It was Tigellinus’ enmity that proved crucial for the fate of this man, as it was for so many others. If I read his character correctly, Tigellinus’ campaign to terrorize Nero by associating his dexterous colleague with Agrippina (Tac. Ann., 14, 57; cf. 15, 50) was intended as sheer blackmail. This campaign was vigorously pressed, and it ultimately

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forced Faenius Rufus into the Pisonian plot. Tacitus seizes the opportunity to draw a contrasting rhetorical picture, offered from the conspirators’ viewpoint: Their ultimate power seemed to reside in the prefect Faenius Rufus who, enjoying a reputation for a worthy life, was, however, forestalled in the ruler’s favor because of the savagery and shamelessness of Tigellinus, who exhausted and often frightened [Nero] with charges that he had been Agrippina’s lover and was now intent on avenging her death. (ibid., 50) This was, indeed, an impudent tactic: the man’s fidelity to Nero had been proved beyond doubt—otherwise he would never have attained his high office, and to accuse him of seeking to avenge Agrippina six years after her death defies common sense. Yet it seems that such charges precipitated his doom. One thinks of cases in modern Russian history of persons who succeeded in prominent careers under Stalin in the 1930s and then received prison terms in the 1940s for having been sympathetic with Trotsky in the early 1920s. Faenius Rufus found himself, after Seneca’s withdrawal, in a precarious predicament. It makes little sense to accuse Tacitus of distortion in his character portrayals by pointing to inconsistencies in his description of this man. On the one hand, it is argued, Tacitus praises him for having “military fame” (Ann., 14, 51) and speaks of his “laudable life and reputation” (ibid., 15, 50). On the other hand, his “lethargic innocuousness” is unfavorably compared by him to Burrus’ “virtue” (ibid., 14, 51), and Tacitus’ description of his base conduct in the aftermath of the Pisonian affair makes Faenius Rufus despicable. But life is contradictory: Tacitus was well aware of the inconsistencies and implausibilities of human behavior and outlook (his own included) and strove to describe them as accurately as he could, and this makes him the outstanding moralist and psychologist that he was. Consequently, the “laudable life and reputation” of Faenius Rufus in no way guaranteed virtuous conduct in extreme circumstances, nor did they determine the historian’s final judgment on him. In fact, what he tells us is a thrilling and utterly persuasive story of Faenius Rufus’ collapse during the exposure of the Pisonian affair. His characteristic feature, described by Tacitus as “lethargic innocuousness,” was the familiar result of lifelong dissimulatio, and it contributed to the paralysis of will that prevented any expeditious action in support of his confederates—just as it ruined Piso himself as well as a host of others both before and after, among them Rubellius Plautus, Cornelius Sulla, and the Silani. Having failed to act, Faenius Rufus found himself in a predicament where the “schizophrenia” inherent in dissimulatio revealed itself in the extreme and achieved perfect material and metaphorical expression: like a victim of split personality, the man became at once plotter and investigator, criminal and judge, victim and executioner, an erratic and solitary “conspirator” of the “conspiracy within the conspiracy,” his own final purpose uncertain and, most likely, unknown even to him.

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Agreeing to accompany Piso to the praetorian camp in the aftermath of the projected assassination, Faenius Rufus acted in his capacity as revolutionary. But only a little while afterwards, still, for the time being, an unexposed member of the plot, he identified with his other role of collaborationist to such an extent that he actually saved Nero’s life. The episode recounted by Tacitus is so out of the ordinary that it can only have surfaced in the course of the official inquiry: Side by side with the savage interrogation by Nero and Tigellinus there was also Faenius Rufus engaged in violent harassment. He had not yet been named by the informers and sought to prove his own ignorance [of the plot], by ferocity towards his confederates. He also—when Subrius Flavus was standing by and inquired with a nod whether he should draw his sword and perpetrate the deed of tyrannicide even while the investigation was being conducted— made a negative sign with his head and caused him to check his impulse when his hand was already extended to grasp the hilt. (Ann., 14, 58) It will remain an enigma why Subrius Flavus chose at this juncture to obey his commander although he must have realized that by doing so he placed in jeopardy his own and his fellow officers’ lives. Probably, he thought that the crafty prefect acted as he did in accordance with some intricate scheme he designed beforehand to ensure their eventual rescue, and if so, the tribune was to be greviously disappointed. Be that as it may, this was a heartbreaking moment: Nero came very close to destruction, and Subrius Flavus to accomplishing his long dreamt of heroic feat. Subrius Flavus was not the only praetorian officer who had to experience this same excruciating dilemma. Another of the prefect’s accomplices was the tribune C.Gavius Silvanus, a distinguished warrior and the man dispatched to announce the sentence of death to Seneca, thereby, in the words of the senatorial historian, “adding to the crimes he had conspired to punish” (ibid., 61). Citing Fabius Rusticus as his source, Tacitus reports that before executing the Imperial order this tribune visited his superior, Faenius Rufus, to ask whether he ought to obey Nero, apparently expecting a negative answer. He was commanded, on the contrary, to carry out his orders, “for such fatal idleness pervaded them all” (ibid.). Faenius Rufus’ perspective on reality was distorted by fear and ambition. A shrewd opportunist and experienced politician, he continually missed, one after another, his few opportunities for real safety and salvation. Years of dissimulatio and concomitant compromise could not be lived through without gradual and constant selfdeterioration. The prefect’s actual achievements, his “laudable life and reputation,” were reduced to insignificance by a potential flaw, the “fatal idleness” Tacitus speaks of, in his hour of ordeal. Gavius Silvanus, the tribune, proved a worthier man than his superior: he “spared himself from having to say anything or see anything” (ibid.), but merely sent one of his centurions to inform Seneca of the Imperial order, and shortly afterwards, despite Nero’s pardon, he committed suicide out of shame and remorse

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(ibid., 71). And another conspiratorial officer of the same rank, Statius Proxumus, received and carried out the order to execute the consul-designate, Plautius Lateranus, who was not even given time to say farewell to his family or to commit suicide, but was dragged to the place of execution for slaves, where he was slaughtered “showing steadfast and complete silence and without a word of reproach for the tribune’s complicity in the same design” (ibid., 60). It is easier to understand the temporary silence of the rest of the conspirators as to the involvement of the praetorian officers and the prefect himself in the plot. They evidently continued to entertain for a time the hope that, if unexposed, the military would finally mobilize, seize the initiative, and take their chance. By overthrowing Nero, or even by exercising the authority already granted them, it appeared that they still could save the lives of the entire lot. Since this did not happen, owing largely to the schizophrenic attitude of Faenius Rufus, his former allies attacked the prefect, avenging themselves with great relish: But the conspiracy among the military did not continue undetected either, for the informers were roused to denounce Faenius Rufus, not tolerating the same man as both their accomplice and their inquisitor. Consequently, to his browbeating and threats Scaevinus replied with a scornful smile that he was better informed of the matter than anyone else, and urged him [by confessing] to take the initiative in doing such an excellent Emperor the good turn he owed him. (ibid.) This is, of course, an excellent example of Tacitus’ narrative skill and his multilayered irony, but even if Faenius Rufus’ actual exposure happened somewhat less dramatically, one can easily believe that the man indeed failed to respond readily, “either by raising his voice or by silence,” but broke down “stumbling over his own words and showing terror” (ibid., 66). This released an outpouring of incriminations, particularly on the part of the equestrian Cervarius Proculus, who was later pardoned (ibid., 71), which suggests that he played a substantial role in the unraveling of the plot. To learn of the praetorian involvement in the conspiracy must have been a most terrifying moment for Nero as well: it was probably this disclosure which made him chain the defendants during the hearings in triple sets of fetters (Suet. Nero, 36; cf. Tac. Ann., 15, 58, 3). Thus the good offices of his former associates led to the arrest of the prefect Faenius Rufus and, shortly afterwards, his execution, which Tacitus reports laconically, with something of a sneer: “Faenius Rufus did not show equal spirit, but extended his lamentations even into his will” (Ann., 15, 68). This whole tale sounds very modern, as if it were the fiction of a Dostoevsky or a Nabokov. What comes to mind are stories of double agents or agents provocateurs who have so adapted themselves to their role that they cease to understand which of the two causes they work for is real and lose all contact with reality, so that today’s prosecutor

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turns into tomorrow’s defendant. Evidently such a mental condition is not a recent invention or only a property of the spy novel. The prefect’s pattern of behavior appears, in fact, clinical, deteriorating from split personality, through abandonment of self-control, into total collapse. Although, prima facie, the case of Faenius Rufus appears unique in the Imperial annals as an example of a fully realized potential for psychological self-destruction, it must be viewed, within the proper context, as emblematic and as providing us with further insight into the causes and the effects of dissident dissimulatio. Individuals particularly adept in its practice ought never to enter into political opposition, much less into a conspiracy: added to their acute instinct for preservation, their heightened concern for universal approval tends to make them remarkably easy prey to a clever inquisitor and a calamity to a fellow dissident. The sorrowful affair of the prefect Faenius Rufus carried to a social and psychological extreme the ambivalence of outlook and the ambiguity of behavior so characteristic of the period. X Seneca was the first in a series of those whom, according to Tacitus, Nero succeeded in destroying by alleging their complicity in the Pisonian plot. The next was the consul ordinarius of the year, M. (Iulius) Vestinus Atticus, slain in the full solemnity of his office (Ann., 15, 68f.; cf. Suet. Nero, 35). It is very likely that he was a son of that distinguished L.Iulius Vestinus, of Gallic origin, whom Claudius, in Tabula Lugdunensis, describes as one of his most trusted associates (CIL 13, 1668), calling him “an ornament of the equestrian order” (cf. Tac. Hist., 4, 53), and who was appointed the prefect of Egypt in the earlier years of Nero’s reign. In discussing the intentions of the conspirators, Tacitus contends that Piso seems to have objected to the idea of including Vestinus Atticus from a fear “lest he restore liberty or, by choosing someone else to be emperor, turn the commonwealth into an object of his arbitrary dispensation” (Ann., 15, 52). This formulation implies that Vestinus Atticus had the dangerous aura of a “king-maker.” Further, the word libertas counterposed to the “choice of another emperor” certainly refers to a republican form of government, the res publica vetus. Thus Tacitus suggests that the Pisonians had not made up their minds on what grounds they should exclude Vestinus Atticus— whether as their leader’s rival, or as a strongman seeking to promote his own candidate for supreme power, or as an “ideological” opponent seeking the restitution of the old Republic. This ambiguity is instructive, reflecting the characteristic ambivalence of politicians of this type: the same choices, after all, were faced by the conspirators against Caligula. Intellectually and psychologically, however, men of such a mold were out of tune with genuine republicanist feelings. It is not surprising, then, that any suspicion of republicanism in regard to Vestinus Atticus, even if he entertained hopes of a coup d’état, quickly disappears under scrutiny. We are later informed that, while in Nero’s view the man was undoubtedly inimical to him (ibid., 68), he was also the enemy of several senators and was disliked by most of the others,

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which probably constituted the real reason why they excluded him from the plot—“some because of the old quarrels, but the majority because they regarded him as reckless and unmanageable” (ibid.). However, it is emphasized that their enmity grew from his earlier friendship with Nero, whom he subsequently antagonized by an exercise of ferocious wit and whom he learned to despise. His personality and vicissitudes recall such controversial figures as Otho, Petronius, and Lucan. Such a comparison, however, is ultimately deceptive, because of substantial differences in character, temperament, and circumstances. Like Otho, Vestinus Atticus belonged to the category of “sexual dissidents,” Nero being the lover of his recent bride, Statilia Messallina, the “lady of five husbands.” Unlike Otho, he did not marry her because of a compact with the emperor, but rather, on the contrary, “not unaware that Caesar was among her adulterers” (Tac. Ann., 15, 68)—sufficient cause for his death instead of mere disgrace. A personal grudge of this kind, often concealed from or only suspected by a future victim, could play a more crucial role in one’s fate than any political or “ideological” considerations. Like Petronius, Vestinus Atticus seems to have been a member of Nero’s intimate circle; but in contrast to him, he exercised an impressive political influence and even, as will be seen shortly, had a certain power-base, playing a sort of intransigent “baron.” As for Lucan, the two of them seem to have been opposites in character and behavior, the emphatic self-confidence of the consul contrasting with the poet’s neurotic, unbalanced mind. So in Vestinus Atticus we encounter a fascinating figure. On the one hand, he resembles mighty individuals, like the senatorial conspirators against Caligula, who conducted dangerous games behind the scenes—when occasion allowed, under republicanist slogans—but for their own ends. On the other, he was numbered among powerful Imperial friends, amici and comites, men of few principles, great charisma, strong will, and adventurous spirit, but impatient and lacking the inexhaustible capacity for dissimulatio so characteristic of the adulators. Enjoying for a time a tense intimacy with their ruler, they inevitably reached a point where their accumulated desire for independence endowed them with courage enough to provoke an Imperial “renunciation of friendship,” risking disgrace or even death. But of their ultimate intentions nothing definite can be said. From Tacitus we learn that Vestinus Atticus lived in the city of Rome in the grand style of a medieval magnate rather than the manner of a private citizen. In order to seize his house, which was like a fortress looking over the Forum, and to overcome his personal guard, Nero undertook some extraordinary measures: he sent a military cohort under the command of the tribune Gerellanus and “ordered them to forestall any moves on the part of the consul by taking possession of his citadel and suppressing his unit of chosen young men” (ibid., 69). Having fulfilled that day’s consular obligations, Vestinus Atticus was surprised by this military force in the middle of a dinner party, “either fearing nothing or dissimulating fear.” The phrase does not seem here to suggest any innuendo on Tacitus’ part in regard to the consul’s possible complicity in the plot—the exposure of the Pisonians, of which by now everyone

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knew, was a fearful enough event. It is also worth noting that this is yet another reference to dissimulatio in a political context—this time, however, with an interesting twist: the dissimulation serves to disguise fear by intrepidity instead of by compliance. What followed is described in brief and businesslike terms: the consul withdrew to his chamber, a physician arrived, his veins were cut; then, “still vigorous, he was carried into his bath and placed in a tub of hot water, without uttering anything that would resemble self-pity.” One can envision the panic of the guests at this party when they themselves were surrounded by guards and held under arrest late into the night— a démarche interpreted by Tacitus as originating in the emperor’s sadistic mockery: “After having pictured with amusement their horror as they waited in the certainty that this meal would prove their last, Nero said that they had already suffered enough to pay for the consular meal” (ibid.). This macabre remark rings true as a reflection of public moods and attitudes of the moment: the inhabitants of the city were, indeed, thoroughly terrified. The shocking and sudden end of the consul Vestinus Atticus differed from the gradual disgrace culminating in death suffered by Rubellius Plautus or Cornelius Sulla. In this instance public opinion had no time to come to terms with a sense of doom or to anticipate disaster or to work out any other mental procedure for a quick adjustment to what happened. Furthermore, after their leader’s suicide, the actual conspirators, as well as other suspects (ibid., 58; cf. Suet. Nero, 36), were given a formal trial and allowed to speak in their defense. Even Seneca’s case, though it was considered in absentia, was deliberated upon by the Imperial counsellors (which recalls Claudius’ infamous trials in cubiculo), and he was officially investigated (cf. Ann., 15, 61). It seems that nothing of this sort took place in regard to Vestinus Atticus. The death penalty was carried out without preliminary investigation or even interrogation of the defendant, to say nothing of the total disregard of any other juridical procedure; it was an exercise of brute force. It seems fairly obvious that the authorities possessed no evidence of Vestinus Atticus’ complicity that would have made a trial plausible, and this is emphasized by Tacitus, who prefaces his account of the takeover of the consul’s residence with an unequivocal pronouncement: “Since no charge and no accuser were forthcoming to allow him to act in the role of judge, Nero resorted to despotic power” (ibid., 69). There is no reason to doubt Tacitus: he would have referred to the official charge against him, if it were documented, just as he mentions the flimsy accusations against Seneca. The inconvenient husband and politician Vestinus Atticus ceased to exist, his memory publicly cursed, so that his widow could eventually succeed Poppaea Sabina as Nero’s third and last empress. The sequence of events as detailed by Tacitus is perfectly plausible. The actual exposure of the plot began with Milichus’ denunciation and the subsequent breakdown of Flavius Scaevinus and Antonius Natalis (Ann., 15, 55–6). This was followed by the arrests of Lucan, Claudius Senecio, and Afranius Quintianus, who collapsed in their turn (ibid., 56), and by the futile interrogation of Epicharis, which led to her suicide (ibid., 58). Faenius Rufus, still hoping to conceal his own treason, was

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ordered, together with Tigellinus, to conduct the investigation (ibid.), and at this point the two potentially most dangerous members of the conspiracy were immediately removed: Piso himself, the reported leader (ibid., 59), and Plautius Lateranus, the consul-designate (ibid.). Still unaware of the praetorian participation in the plot, Nero seized the opportunity to destroy Seneca with a pretext supplied by the “confession” of Antonius Natalis (ibid., 60–4)—which inadvertently proved the correct move, causing further deterioration of military morale. The eventual exposure by their discontented confederates of the involvement of the praetorian officers led by their superior, the praetorian prefect (ibid., 66), marked the end of the last opportunity for the plotters, and the resulting executions of Faenius Rufus, Subrius Flavus, and Sulpicius Asper (ibid., 67–8) sealed the affair. Emboldened, Nero then moved against his personal foe, the formidable consul Vestinus Atticus (ibid., 68–9), so that, free from any threat of outside intervention, he could finish off the rest of the conspirators (ibid., 70), among them Lucan, Claudius Senecio, Flavius Scaevinus, and Afranius Quintianus. (The deaths of the last three are commemorated by Tacitus in a manner that implies a partial retraction of his earlier contemptuous judgments of them.) Tacitus portrays public response to the government’s victory as dis simulatio on a grand scale: In the meantime, the city was filled with funeral processions, and the Capitol with the offerings of the sacrificial victims: for one man it was a son, for another a brother or relative or friend whose execution forced upon them [the necessity of] rendering thanks to the gods, decorating their homes with laurel branches, prostrating themselves before the Emperor and showering kisses on his right hand. (Ann., 15, 71) However, the authorities must have realized that the matter was not so simple, and the popular mood far from unequivocal. That they were on the alert for further trouble can be inferred from their propagandis measures taken to improve the Imperial image. Not content with delivering an explanatory speech in the Senate (ibid., 73), Nero followed this with an edict to the people, later publishing “the collected reports of all the informers and confessions of the condemned plotters” (ibid.)— clearly intending it as an official document, a sort of “White Book,” since, we are told, “he was often distressed by popular talk that he ruined so many innocent citizens of high distinction merely on the grounds of jealousy and fear” (ibid.; cf. Suet. Nero, 36). Presumably, this collection served as one of the chief sources for Tacitus’ account, together with oral testimonies (cf. Ann., 15, 73) and the historiographical tradition. Other sources hint at a fully realized campaign of terror and harassment against the families and friends of the condemned (cf., esp., Dio, 62, 24, 3) and even at a staged massacre of their children (Suet. Nero, 36)—this last allegation unsupported by the

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extant evidence. It is a matter of record that even Piso, the leader of the plot, was survived by his son Calpurnius Piso Galerianus, and we do not hear that he suffered any further trouble under Nero. Incidentally, it is worth noting that this young man, despite his effort to keep a low profile (Tacitus emphasizes that he “had no daring at all” (Hist., 4, 11)), later fell as yet another victim of existimatio and public expectation: it is said that his parentage gave rise to entirely false rumors of a design to seize Imperial power which led to his execution, during the last stage of the civil wars of AD 69–70, by Licinius Mucianus, who found it expedient, fearing popular unrest, to put him to death outside the city limits (ibid.). Although we learn of punishment inflicted on the wives of a few minor figures, the spouses and relatives of the protagonists (with the exception of Scaevinus’ wife Caedicia) seem to have been left unharmed. We do not hear of any persecution of Piso’s wife, Atria Galla, or of Lucan’s wife, Argentaria Polla. This latter was destined to live a long life, reportedly continuing to worship her late husband. For her Statius several decades later wrote Genethliacon Lucani (Silv., 2, 7), and Martial also enjoyed her literary patronage, as is clear from one of his poems (cf. 7, 21–3; 10, 64). What is more, Nero personally intervened to save Seneca’s wife, Pompeia Paullina, and Lucan’s mother, Acilia—allegedly denounced by her son as an accomplice—was ignored, neither condemned, we are told, nor acquitted (Ann., 15, 71). It is difficult to establish any rationale for this selectiveness in the treatment of the families involved. It could have been due to Nero’s habitual inconsistency, or, conceivably, he spared those bearing great names to win popular approval while avenging himself on those less conspicuous, even if they were guilty of smaller offenses. These minor victims were numerous enough—we learn no less than twenty-four names—either lesser members of the conspiracy, or persons whom the authorities thought were associated with it and who may have followed the path of their patrons, or people who were simply considered potential troublemakers. Although he was using an official source, as well as oral reminiscences, Tacitus was unwilling, or unable, to make fine distinctions in each case. On many of these people our information is scarce, and we must be content with the scraps of evidence supplied by Tacitus. We are told, for instance, that P.Glitius Gallus and Annius Pollio, denounced, respectively, by their close friends Afranius Quintianus and Claudius Senecio (ibid., 56), were sentenced to exile (ibid., 71), a lenient verdict that seems to indicate their insignificant role in the plot or even to confirm Tacitus’ hint of their innocence (ibid.). Glitius Gallus, possibly a stepbrother of Domitius Corbulo, was banished to the island of Andros, accompanied by his wife, Egnatia Maximilla, a woman of independent wealth (ibid.) which was eventually confiscated; an inscription at Andros survived (IG 12, 5, 757) attesting to this couple’s popularity among the local people. As for Annius Pollio, a son of the notorious L.Annius Vinicianus, the conspirator against Caligula and Claudius, he was married to Servilia, a daughter of the influential senator Barea Soranus, who may have been close to Thrasea Paetus. There could also have been some connection between him and the mysterious Vinicius, whose

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conspiracy in Beneventum is mentioned only once and without any comment by Suetonius (Nero, 36). This Vinicius may, in turn, be identical with Annius Vinicianus, Domitius Corbulo’s son-in-law, and thus, arguably, also a relative of the above mentioned Glitius Gallus. A hypothesis as to a plot among these people leading to the “Vinician conspiracy,” which was eventually to cost Domitius Corbulo his life, will be discussed later (pp. 195ff.). Two men were brought down by their association with Seneca (Tac. Ann., 15, 71). Of one of them, D.Novius Priscus, we know nothing beyond that he was exiled together with his wife, Artoria Flacilla. The other was Caesennius Maximus, and of him Tacitus tells us acidly that, like Caedicia, the wife of Flavius Scaevinus, both being debarred from Italy, they “learned that they were guilty only from the fact of their punishment” (ibid.). On Caesennius Maximus, however, we possess further interesting information portraying him as a person of truly uncommon qualities. In two poems (7, 44; 7, 45) Martial celebrates his extraordinary gift of friendship. He is said to have been particularly close to Seneca, who indeed speaks of him with affection (cf. Epist., 87, 2). It may be inferred from one of Martial’s poems (7, 44, 10) that he even accompanied the philosopher to his Corsican exile under Claudius, no mean undertaking given the Roman horror at the idea of banishment from the capital and the risk of Imperial wrath. Caesennius Maximus was fortunate in his friends: in his present disaster his friend Q.Ovidius voluntarily kept him company in Sicily, thus rendering him a service of the same kind that he himself had offered to Seneca years before. It must have been riskier to defy Nero than Claudius and called for even greater stamina on Ovidius’ part. Martial pays generous tribute to their friendship: Q.Ovidius was his own neighbor and acquaintance (7, 93; 9, 52, 53), while Caesennius Maximus by that time must have been already dead. Seneca’s own distinguished brother, Iunius Gallio, who was governor of Greece in AD 51–2 and the suffect consul in AD 55 (Plin. NH, 31, 62), frightened for obvious reasons (Tac. Ann., 15, 73), came close to perishing after being viciously attacked in the Senate by his personal enemy Salienus Clemens, who denounced him as a “parricide and public enemy.” He is said to have been rescued by the unanimous intervention of the senators acting under the pretense of preventing “the abuse of public ills in the pursuit of a private vendetta” and with hypocritical reference to the emperor’s “gentleness” (ibid.). The success of the ploy is the best demonstration of his innocence. His life, however, was only temporarily spared, for he committed suicide a year later, possibly in connection with the forced death of his second brother, Annaeus Mela. Similarly brief was the delay in the destruction of Rufrius Crispinus, Poppaea Sabina’s former husband, and for that reason hated by Nero (ibid., 71); the conspiracy offered a pretext, first, for banishing him to Sardinia, and then later, it seems, for his execution (see p. 150). There were at least two other famous intellectuals whose punishment—though they were exiled and not put to death like Seneca and Lucan—is explicitly linked by Tacitus to the exposure of the Pisonian conspiracy: “Verginius Flavus and Musonius

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Rufus suffered banishment owing to the celebrity of their achievements” (Ann., 15, 71). The rhetorician Verginius Flavus possessed a considerable reputation (Suet. De Rhet.). Quintilian extols him as “a supreme authority” (7, 4, 40; cf. 3, 1, 21; 3, 6, 45; 4, 1, 23; 7, 4, 24), and he is known as a teacher of the dissident satirist Persius. The name of the philosopher C.Musonius Rufus is also often mentioned in a dissident context (cf. Epict., 1, 37, 2; 9, 29). We remember that he was present, in the company of a fellow philosopher, at the final moments of Rubellius Plautus (see p. 68). He also was an intimate associate of Thrasea Paetus and Barea Soranus. This man of equestrian origin, born of an Etruscan family in Volsinii around AD 30, belongs to the great luminaries of Stoicism and was, among other things, the teacher of Dio Chrysostom and of Epictetus while the latter was still a slave of Nero’s freedman secretary Epaphroditus (Epict., 1, 9, 29). Although a Roman (but not a senator), Musonius Rufus chose Greek as his linguistic medium and entirely adopted the posture and ways of a Greek philosopher, disregarding the tenets of dissimulatio and employing parresia—free speech—without fear. Musonius Rufus’ temperament made him a public figure of high respect. In contrast to Seneca, he succeeded in preserving his integrity and bridging the gap between word and act. Dio Chrysostom was not alone in the claim that Musonius Rufus “enjoyed a reputation greater than any one man has attained f or generations and was admittedly the man who since the time of the ancients lived most nearly in conformity with reason” (31, 122; cf. Plin. Epist., 3, 11; Philostr. Vita Apol., 4, 46; Julian. Epist. ad Temist., 2, 20ff.). It was Musonius Rufus’ stature and moral influence that made Nero persecute him. There is a strong tradition that he spoke out often against the emperor and opposed him in many ways (cf. Philostr. Vita Apol., 7, 16), but whether he was subjected to any harassment prior to his exile in AD 65 in uncertain. There is no reason to believe in Musonius Rufus’ complicity in the Pisonian plot. Nor does it seem that he owed his exile on Gyara to his Stoicism, since Tacitus equates him in this respect with Verginius Flavus, no philosopher and no Stoic, and implies that the government considered both of them suspect and subversive by reason of their popularity among the youth (Tac. Ann., 15, 71). It was in later times that Musonius Rufus—“the Roman Socrates”—along with Demetrius the Cynic and, of course, the Pythagorean “magus,” Apollonius of Tyana, was turned into a popular character of philosophical folklore. It is difficult to judge the truth of that portrait. However, his intransigence is apparent from his own writings. Musonius Rufus’ letter from exile is found in the collection of his discourses and fragments where, after a reference to the earlier precedents, he wrote: But why should I employ examples of long ago? Are you not aware that I am an exile? Well, then, have I been deprived of freedom of speech? Have I been bereft of the privilege of saying what I think? Have you or anyone else seen me cringing before anyone just because I am an exile, or thinking that my lot is worse now than formerly? No, I’ll wager that you would say that you have never seen me complaining or disheartened because of my banishment, for if I have been

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deprived of my country, I have not been deprived of my ability to endure exile. (9, 10ff.) Philostratus, a wonderful repository of philosophical anecdotes, tells a characteristic story of Musonius Rufus’ alleged vicissitudes during his exile. It is said that at some point he was sentenced by Nero to forced labor, cutting a canal across the Isthmus of Corinth, one of the emperor’s costly building projects, and that Demetrius the Cynic met him there, in chains, but with his spirit unbroken: Demetrius said…that he addressed to him such consolations as he could, but Musonius took his spade and stoutly dug it into the earth, and then looking up, said: “You are distressed, Demetrius, to see me digging through the Isthmus of Greece, but if you saw me playing the harp like Nero, what would you feel then?” (Vita Apol., 5, 19) It is too bad that the authenticity of this colorful story is doubtful. Musonius Rufus returned to Rome shortly after Nero’s death in AD 69 and engaged energetically in public affairs (cf. Tac. Hist., 4, 10; 40)—making an attempt to impeach one of the informers responsible for the death of Barea Soranus (see pp. 181f.) and trying, in vain, literally on the battlefield, to reconcile the warring Flavian and Vitellian armies, the “untimely wisdom” of this particular effort being characteristically derided by Tacitus (ibid., 3, 81). He was specifically exempted from the harassment of the philosophers under Vespasian (Dio, 66, 13) and was dead by the time the younger Pliny wrote of him as a former friend (Epist., 3, 11). Finally, there is a series of names—Cluvidienus Quietus, Julius Agrippa, Blitius Catulinus, Petronius Priscus, Julius Altinus—of whom we know nothing except Tacitus’ assertion that Nero exiled them to the Aegean islands, “as it were, to complete the mass and the list” (Ann., 15, 71). Such a comment seems a gratuitous display of malice; one presumes that the reasons for the banishment of these men were more serious, though this measure cannot be taken as proof of their guilt. Of the military, besides the three officers executed—the prefect Faenius Rufus, the tribune Subrius Flavus, and the centurion Sulpicius Asper—two other tribunes, Gavius Silvanus (ibid., 71) and Statius Proxumus (ibid.), are said to have taken their lives despite Imperial pardon. Presumably the reason for their pardon was their obedience to Imperial orders: the former was instrumental in arranging Seneca’s suicide; the latter carried out the execution of Plautius Lateranus. The rest of the guard members—a Pompeius, Cornelius Martialis, Flavius Nepos, and Statius Domitius— were deprived of their tribunician rank (ibid.), not, Tacitus tells us, because they hated the emperor, but because they were regarded as doing so by public opinion (ibid.). It appears awesome that no less than seven praetorian tribunes out of, possibly, twelve either joined the conspiracy or roused suspicion in the authorities, and only

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two of the same office—Veianus Niger (ibid., 67) and Gerellanus (who was dispatched to kill Vestinus Atticus)—are described as faithfully fulfilling Nero’s orders. XI As a reward for their cooperation, Nero granted immunity—“imagining that this was joy,” as Tacitus sarcastically puts it—to Antonius Natalis and Cervarius Proculus, important conspirators and informers (Ann., 15, 67): the one for initiating the series of betrayals, the other for precipitating the exposure of the praetorian involvement. On balance, Nero seems to have handled the crisis reasonably well. The executions he ordered, aside from those of Seneca and Vestinus Atticus, were the verdicts of formally conducted trials and appear to have been necessitated by the demands of his own safety; the more numerous sentences of exile were relatively mild, and a number of suspects were evidently given an amnesty. Compared, for instance, with the frenzy of persecution under Tiberius after the fall of Sejanus (cf. Tac. Ann., 6, 3), such moderation could even have been seen as clemency. If this provided grounds for any surge of public optimism in regard to the future, it must have been short-lived: no further signs of the emperor’s moral reform followed. Rather the contrary—his semblance of self-restraint proved to be an illusion, possibly a deliberate one. In fact, it appears that the exposure of the Pisonians contributed to Nero’s incipient paranoia and supplied him at the same time with a perfect pretext as well as an instrument for finishing off the remnants of the “dynastic dissidents,” the “moral opposition,” the “disgraced friends,” and other undesirables. In a series of treason trials and executions in the following year the victims were directly linked by Imperial allegation to the recently suppressed plot, and the resulting atmosphere of fear and lurking danger was exploited by the government to justify and perpetuate the terror in the name of suppressing further subversion. As for the immediate context and effects of the Pisonian affair, Nero’s successful performance suggests that in his brighter moments the “artistic tyrant” was not entirely incapable of self-mobilization, efficiency, and even statecraft—an inference belied, of course, by his conduct on many other occasions, including the ridiculous affair of Agrippina’s collapsible ship, his absurd divorce proceedings, and the follies committed on the very eve of his overthrow. It seems more plausible to assume that on this, as on a number of earlier occasions, he relied on shrewder minds—like the senator Petronius Turpilianus or the freedman secretary Epaphroditus—to guide his steps. Among his intelligent gestures was his personal appearance before the praetorian soldiers when he presented them with two thousand sesterces each, in addition to remitting the price of the grain ration previously supplied to them at the market rate (Tac. Ann., 15, 72). The devising of this last measure required a good financial brain, hardly Nero’s own, and we may assume that it was invented by the members of his freedmen chancellery.

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We are explicitly told that Tigellinus and Poppaea Sabina acted as Nero’s intimate advisors (ibid., 15, 61). The former is an example of a power-hungry upstart and intriguer, a Neronian parallel to Sejanus, Tiberius’ trusted praetorian prefect. It appears, however, that, in contrast to that earlier strongman, Tigellinus never contemplated a seizure of power. By virtue of his very office, charged as he was with the emperor’s security, he played a crucial part in the demolition of the Pisonian plot—no mean task, given the degree of praetorian complicity in it, including that of his own colleague, Faenius Rufus. So it was only natural that Nero, “as if recounting a victory in the war” (ibid., 72), ordered a senatorial decree bestowing singular honors upon Tigellinus—triumphal decorations and effigies to be placed not only in the Forum but also on the Palatine (ibid.). The name of the only other recipient of exactly the same exceptional set of awards (ibid.), however, takes the reader by surprise. It was the praetor-designate, M.Cocceius Nerva, the thirty-three-year-old grandson of Tiberius’ close associate (also M.Cocceius Nerva) who committed suicide, according to conflicting accounts, either on grounds of moral indignation against tyrannical rule (Tac. Ann., 6, 26f.) or because of involvement in an obscure financial scandal (Dio, 58, 21, 4). The report of the younger Nerva so honored by Nero in the same breath as the villain Tigellinus must have caused Tacitus much embarrassment. The man, after all, was the same who more than thirty years later was himself made emperor (AD 97), succeeding the tyrannical Domitian and presiding over what Tacitus saw as a process of “liberalization” when, as he put it, “Principate and freedom, things formerly incompatible,” were united (Agr., 3), and inaugurating “the rare happiness of times, when we may think what we please and express what we think” (Hist., 1, 1). However, this last pronouncement was somewhat wishful thinking even in the age of the so-called “good emperors.” Writing under Hadrian, officially styled “the deified Nerva’s grandson,” Tacitus still, it seems, would not allow himself the luxury of specifying to the reader the part the designate praetor of the fateful year 65 had played in the exposure of the Pisonian affair. By this time Nerva had already built his reputation as a popular erotic poet, praised by Nero himself as “the Tibullus of our time” (Mart., 8, 70; cf. 9, 96), and he managed, unlike a Lucan or a Petronius, to avoid arousing the emperor’s jealousy. But whatever political service he rendered to Nero to earn such an extraordinary and official recognition must indeed have been considerable, and one feels a nagging suspicion that it could have been that of agent provocateur. This and similar suspicions call into question his moral excellence and justify treatment of him as among the ambitious and enterprising pauci et validi, the tenacious survivors, and worse. In any event, Nerva’s character and career seem ambiguous, and that leads us to wonder about the nature of his dissimulatio: not unlike that of his illustrious predecessor, Octavian Augustus, it may have represented the opposite of the habitual dynamics of the dissident mind. Instead of falling victim to the familiar torment caused by a conflict between the traditional view of virtue or dignity and the pragmatic demands of compliance and complicity, Nerva seems to have been

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successful in dissembling, beneath the mask of an upright senator and, later, of an old benevolent ruler, his own species of ruthless opportunism. It is easier to comprehend the bestowal of the same triumphal decorations (this time, however, no reference is made to public effigies) on P.Petronius Sabinus Turpilianus (Tac. Ann., 15, 72), who was one of the pillars of the Neronian regime. In contrast to someone like Nerva, at this time still young and undistinguished, this experienced consular politician probably belonged to Nero’s “privy council” and, it seems, proved particularly instrumental in the suppression of the plot. Later Nero entrusted him with an army and sent him against his eventual nemesis, the rebellious governor of Gaul, Iulius Vindex, only to be executed by Galba without trial. There was yet another personage to come to prominence in the course of the Pisonian investigation and whom Tacitus tellingly introduces as “a part of [impending] Roman disasters” (ibid.). Due, possibly, to the corruption of the text, the merit of C.Nymphidius Sabinus in the outcome of the affair remains unclear. He was a son of a freedwoman (ibid.), Nymphidia, a daughter of C.Iulius Callistus, the Imperial secretary under Caligula and Claudius. In the light of this low social origin the prize of consular decorations bestowed upon him certainly seems exorbitant, so that, judging by what our sources unanimously say concerning his character and behavior, the job he performed must have been nothing short of dirty. Unwisely appointed by the emperor to succeed Faenius Rufus, he went on to accumulate influence and power that allowed him to stretch his ambition beyond his means and eventually to become the immediate cause of Nero’s ruin. The rise and fall of this curious and obnoxious figure deserves and will receive a lengthier treatment elsewhere (pp. 237ff.). An inscription (ILS 9505) testifies to the military honors given to the Imperial secretary a libellis Epaphroditus, most likely in recognition of his role in the exposure of the plot—after all, he was the first who alerted the emperor. The gesture was awkward in terms of existimatio—given the traditional senatorial hatred of freedmen— but in this case it paid off: Epaphroditus faithfully stayed with Nero till the very last moment. Finally, a somewhat grotesque touch: the original delator, the freedman Milichus, not content with the sudden wealth resulting from his treachery, assumed the honorific Greek title “Savior” (Tac. Ann., 15, 71), thereby equating himself with gods, kings, and heroes. The Senate, predictably, responded to the political crisis resolved by the series of executions and banishments with a further increase of adulatio: Then offerings and thanksgivings were decreed to the gods, and the Sun, to whom was dedicated the ancient temple near the circus where preparations for the crime had taken place, received special honors of his own for laying bare by his divine power the secrets of the conspiracy. (ibid., 74)

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The games of Cerialia honoring Ceres were to be celebrated on an even grander scale, and the month of April to be renamed Nero. The fateful dagger that Flavius Scaevinus had subjected to ritualistic treatment as the intended murder weapon was consecrated by the emperor in the Capitol and inscribed as a gift to Jove the Avenger—Jupiter Vindex—which, in retrospect, was interpreted as a portent of impending retribution in the person of Iulius Vindex, leader of the Gallic revolt three years later that eventually toppled the Neronian regime (ibid.). But Tacitus chooses to round out his dramatic narrative of the pathetic Pisonian enterprise with an instructive episode highlighting the ambiguities of political dissimulation and designed to warn overly zealous sycophants of the potential dangers inherent even for themselves in adulatory behavior (cf. Sen. De Ira, 2, 28, 5). Tacitus is careful to refer to his study of documents and informs the reader that he discovered a proposal in the Senate’s records (Ann., 15, 74) made by the consul-designate, C.Anicius Cerealis, that “a temple to Nero the God must be erected at public expense as soon as possible” (ibid.). Although Nero recognized that the purpose of the motion was symbolic, pertaining to his superiority to the rest of mankind, he vetoed it firmly in order to prevent any possibility of interpretatio prava, prejudiced interpretation, “lest it be turned into an evil omen relating to his own end, for divine honors are not paid to the Princeps until he has ceased to move and act among men” (ibid.). This delineates the delicate ground that Neronian politicians and intellectuals were doomed to tread so as not to be charged with “subversive intent,” the animus nocendi, even when celebrating in good faith their loyalty to the regime. As for Anicius Cerealis, the author of the rejected proposal, this particular piece of misconceived and excessive flattery may have played a role in his eventual ruin.

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I A bizarre story of superstition opens the last of the extant books of the Annales. Tacitus thought the affair important enough to devote three chapters to it (Ann., 16, 1–3), and it allows us a peculiar insight into the delusory dimension in public as well as private life. We are told that Nero, falling victim to both chance and his own credulity, put his trust in the sensational information brought to him by a certain Caesellius Bassus, of Punic origin. This man had a dream concerning a treasure buried within a cavern somewhere on his estate centuries before by no less a figure than Queen Dido herself, “in order to augment the welfare of the present times” (ibid.). He set off then for Rome and, butting his way into an audience with the emperor, proceeded to deliver his happy news to Nero. Rejoicing in his turn, Nero is said to have inflated the report and imprudently dispatched a special force to Africa to dig up the cache (ibid., 2) under the informant’s personal guidance. The entire business must have lasted quite a while—with no results (ibid., 3). Caesellius Bassus, whom Tacitus in fact describes as mentally unbalanced, ended his life violently, by suicide. But Tacitus also refers to a different version of what happened in which Caesellius Bassus was merely imprisoned and soon released, his property having been confiscated “in place of the regal treasure” (ibid.). This pathetic affair betrays symptoms of a serious financial crisis, and it is credited by our authorities with far-reaching consequences. Suetonius implies (Nero, 31) that it was the hope of retrieving the mythical treasure that so boosted Nero’s confidence in the Empire’s financial resources as to prompt him to embark on his ambitious building program in the aftermath of the Great Fire, including the construction of his “Golden House”—the Domus Aurea—and of an extravagant system of canals to link Misenum and Ostia with the lake of Avernus. It is in connection with these projects that Suetonius provides the interesting information that, in need of manpower, the emperor commanded all convicts held anywhere in the Empire to be transferred to Italy and sentenced to forced labor (ibid.)—arguably, the earliest Roman approximation to the idea of the Gulag. As a result of the growing public expenses and the exhaustion of the treasury, the government even had to defer soldiers’ pay and

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veterans’ rewards (ibid., 32). Furthermore, Suetonius insists, Nero’s disappointment in his dream of treasure contributed greatly to the rapid increase of extortions and denunciations. Several illustrations then follow, some accompanied by anecdotes, as is usual with this author. Probably in this context belongs the elder Pliny’s report that Nero put to death six (unnamed) men who altogether owned one half of Africa (NH, 18, 35). Next, Suetonius refers (loc. cit.) to a set of measures bearing upon the inheritance procedures, among them an injunction, tantamount to outright robbery, that in the case of anyone leaving an insufficient amount to the emperor in his will, or nothing at all, the entire estate was now to go to the Imperial treasury—while the lawyer who had written or dictated such a will was liable to prosecution. And most frightening of all, the biographer implies that, in view of the prospective confiscations of the property of those condemned, charges of treason were given full force and the delatores encouraged to act upon every conceivable pretext (ibid.). Tacitus observes that the hope of treasure exercised an impact upon the proceedings of the second Neronia, then evidently under way (Ann., 16, 2). There is, however, a tangle of problems connected with the dating. The festival was supposedly held every four years, pointing to AD 64 for the Neronia II , which is implicitly confirmed by the sequence of events as given by Suetonius (Nero, 21). Yet Tacitus’ narrative seems to contradict such a chronology: his discussion of the Neronia II is placed directly after the exposure of the Pisonian conspiracy. A persuasive argument has been made, by analyzing relevant passages from both accounts, that they describe two disparate portions of the Neronia II , separated in time. According to this view, the festivities commenced, as expected, in 64, but were aborted and resumed only a year later. This in fact seems to be alluded to by Suetonius (loc. cit.), who presumably focuses on the earlier part of the festival: according to him, the cause of the postponement was Nero’s desire for an excuse to perform more frequently in public. It appears, however, that the celebration, disrupted initially by Nero’s hasty travel plans, was still further delayed by the Great Fire. As a result, it could be resumed no earlier than in the aftermath of the Pisonian conspiracy. This means that what is portrayed in the Annales was the final part of the second Neronia, held in AD 65 and possibly intended by Nero as a propaganda coup following his recent victory over the Pisonians. Tacitus records that the Senate, with the aim of forestalling further degradation of Imperial prestige, made an attempt to offer Nero the victor’s prizes in advance, but that he staunchly refused, claiming his intention to meet his competitors as an equal and his wish to receive a just award according to his accomplishments (Ann., 16, 14). Suetonius (Nero, 21) supplies further particulars, noting that as on previous occasions the emperor came onto the stage accompanied by his intimate amici, soldiers and military tribunes, and the praetorian prefects carrying his lyre. One of these latter would naturally have been Tigellinus, while the other—depending on whether we attribute this detail to the earlier or later portion of the second Neronia—must have been either Faenius Rufus or Nymphidius Sabinus. Finally (though it is still unclear which of the two occasions is referred to), we are informed that the emperor’s repertoire was announced by the ex-consul Cluvius Rufus, the future historian and one of the

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very few close Neronian associates who managed to preserve a reputation for relatively decent behavior. To emphasize his point, Tacitus contrasts the enthusiasm of the corrupt Roman mob with the healthy response he attributes to municipal Italians visiting the capital: But those who had arrived, on official or private business, from remote municipalities of the austere Italy still committed to the ancient mores, unaccustomed to frivolity owing to their remote provincial existence, would neither tolerate this sight nor be party to the degrading activities; they exhausted their inexperienced hands, disturbed the trained applauders, and often were flogged by the soldiers who stood among the seats to see that not a moment of time was lost because of ill-regulated clamor or lethargic silence. (Ann., 16, 5) It is difficult to judge the degree of wishful thinking or idealization in regard to such presumed conservatism. But the little that we know about individual members of the middle or lower classes, such as the tribune Subrius Flavus or the centurion Sulpicius Asper, tends to corroborate this picture, at least in that there must have existed certain segments of the population annoyed and disturbed by conduct seen as disgracing the Imperial office. In addition, with this renewed emphasis on artificial instigation of public approval and on official control over the popular mood, the scene allows Tacitus to elaborate even on the physical dangers connected with such a large accumulation of people. A number of equestrians, we are told, were crushed to death fighting their way through the narrow spaces, while others, by staying on the spot day and night, were infected by various incurable diseases (ibid.; cf. Suet. Nero, 23). And a sinister insight into the ultimate cause of these perturbations is offered: “For it was a greater fear to be absent from the spectacle due to the many spying openly and the even many more in secret ready to note names and appearances, joy and gloom of all in the gathering” (Ann., 16, 5). If true, this is certainly a sign of a quite advanced national paranoia, an all too common phenomenon in history. It forces us to address the question of, among other things, a possible equivalent to modern “secret police”— whether any comparable body or apparatus did in fact exist under the early Empire and, if so, what were the bounds of its authority and the patterns of its actions. However, the state of the extant evidence makes meaningful discussion of the matter impossible. One can hardly answer with confidence even the simplest questions, for instance, which particular official (the praefectus vigilum? the praefectus praetorio?) was in charge of supervising such clandestine government activities as the collecting of information relevant to the enhancement of Imperial security. This is not really surprising: after all, one of the goals of a political secret police is the concealment of the mere fact of its existence, and it would be naive to expect any real revelations about this in the literature we possess. Intuition and common sense, however, point to the inevitability, under tyrannical rule, of some kind of a special repressive and investigative machinery. A few scattered hints in our sources do, indeed, imply the

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operation of a certain network of secret agents in the early Empire, though they are clearly insufficient for any attempt at generalization or even tentative reconstruction. A degree of voluntary popular cooperation with the authorities in the exposure and pursuit of suspected political offenders can be assumed with greater confidence: a hysterical persecution mania on a scale characteristic of the times (cf., e.g., Sen. De Ben., 3, 26) would otherwise be unthinkable. The profession of the delatores alone serves as eloquent testimony to the period’s deviant climate. In this context, fraught with tension, Tacitus’ reference, against the background of the second Neronia, to dissimulatio is not accidental: “In respect to the humble—an immediately inflicted punishment, against the illustrious—a hatred, at present dissimulated, but soon [coming on them] in retribution” (Ann., 16, 5). The point is further illustrated by an incident involving Vespasian, who allegedly fell asleep at one of the Neronian performances, was spotted by the freedman Phoebus, and suffered disgrace as a result, but was saved by the timely intervention of the multi bonique from imminent ruin, fated as he was for a greater destiny (ibid.). The context of Tacitus’ narrative, however, by no means implies that this episode, serving as an exemplum, necessarily occurred at the time of the second Neronia, and both Suetonius (Div. Vesp., 4) and Dio (6, 11), each recounting a different variant of it, date it to the time of Nero’s Hellenic tour of AD 68 (see pp. 192f.). The festivities were followed by the sudden death of Poppaea Sabina at some point in the summer of AD 65. Our authorities unanimously claim that her end was violent, even though possibly accidental—not murder, but manslaughter. Nero, it is said, in a sharp burst of anger, kicked her while she was pregnant (Tac. Ann., 16, 6; cf. Dio, 62, 27; Suet. Nero, 35; Schol. ad Juv., ap. 6, 462). According to Suetonius (loc. cit.), the pretext for his explosion was her resentment at his coming home late after the chariot races —the archetypical quarrel of a husband and wife. On the other hand, there may be here a rhetorical topos—a tyrant kicking his pregnant wife to death—and for this reason it cannot be fully ruled out that Poppaea Sabina may simply have died from a miscarriage. Be that as it may, senatorial dissidents must have felt no pity for her, and Tacitus observes that her death, “while on the surface a mournful event, seemed joyous to those who thought of her impudence and savagery” (Ann., 16, 7). Nor is it proper to place her within the dissident ranks, despite her origins as a child of victims of the Imperial terror. If indeed she had ever entertained any animosity toward the regime, her inborn ambition eventually drove from her the last traces of dissimulatio, enabling her to succeed in her chosen role of mistress and later wife of the emperor. Tacitus resolutely dismisses the version of her having been poisoned by Nero; those who assert it, he claims, do so “more from hatred than from belief” (ibid., 6)—a telling attempt at objectivity. Instead of the customary cremation, Poppaea Sabina’s body was embalmed, following the Egyptian practice, a sign of Nero’s interest in Eastern religion as well as his political inclinations toward Oriental-style despotism. This was followed by a public funeral and the emperor’s personal eulogy for his wife from the rostra (ibid.). It is baffling that in this context Tacitus does not mention the Senate’s subsequent

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proposal for Poppaea Sabina’s apotheosis, which is explicitly referred to by him later in the same book as having been rejected by Thrasea Paetus (ibid., 21, 23). This omission is evidence for the incomplete state of the Annales. According to all the evidence, Nero loved Poppaea Sabina dearly, and her loss caused him inordinate grief (Tac., loc. cit.; Suet., loc. cit.; Dio, 62, 28). He is said to have appropriated a woman who resembled her (Dio, loc. cit.), and later on to have castrated a boy called Sporus for the same reason so that he might take him as a wife in an officially conducted ceremony, offering him a regular dowry according to contract. “And the Romans,” Dio tells us, “as well as others, publicly celebrated their wedding” (ibid.). It must have been shortly after Poppaea Sabina’s death that Nero made a matrimonial offer to his stepsister Antonia (Suet. Nero, 35), at that time about thirtyfive years of age and the only surviving member of the Claudian family. The emperor’s move was designed to repair his dynastic status, weakened and compromised by his earlier divorce from Octavia. This offer, incidentally, is further proof of the crucial role that kinship, of any description, with the dynasty played in the fate of a number of individuals, including both Antonia’s husbands—Cn. Pompeius Magnus, executed by Messallina in AD 47 as a possible obstacle to her son’s ascent to power (Tac. Ann., 13, 23; 14, 57), and Faustus Cornelius Sulla, killed by Nero in AD 62. Antonia’s staunch rejection of the emperor’s proposal was reputed to have caused her own subsequent death (Suet. Nero, 35), and is the best evidence that this lady never entertained political ambitions as is alleged—otherwise, she would have gladly accepted it. Her refusal of Nero dealt an insult to his public image that had to be avenged by an official treason charge concocted against her in retrospect merely to justify her removal. The idea of a new dynastic marriage, the result of a cold political calculation, was, however, hardly close to Nero’s heart, and upon the failure of the project he felt free to indulge in his personal preference and finally reaped the fruits of an earlier crime by marrying his paramour, Statilia Messallina, the widow of the murdered Vestinus Atticus. Neither Nero’s marriage to Statilia Messallina, nor his earlier proposal to Antonia with her subsequent destruction, are mentioned in Tacitus’ extant account. It follows that both events must have taken place in the later part of the year AD 66, after the trials of Barea Soranus and Thrasea Paetus but before the emperor’s departure on his Greek tour. II The death of Poppaea Sabina appears to have further released the destructive energies of the emperor. The first ominous sign was his prohibition of Cassius Longinus from attending Poppaea Sabina’s funeral (Tac. Ann., 16, 7), a gesture tantamount to a “renunciation of friendship.” The matter was further complicated because of Nero’s association of the lawyer (in his capacity as guardian) with his second nephew, young L.Iunius Silanus Torquatus, the son of his wife’s brother (apparently that M.Iunius

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Silanus poisoned earlier by Agrippina). A descendant of the deified Augustus, this young man was the last member of that ill-fated family of Silani which had included so many victims of the Imperial terror, among them his three uncles—Lucius, Marcus, and Decimus. By his mere status he therefore belonged to the “dynastic dissidents” and was virtually doomed to destruction. His close association with the lawyer may suggest that he shared the latter’s moral and political sympathies, but it is likely that, in contrast to most of those who had suffered the same predicament, this particular youth had political ambitions. Not only the emperor but, as we saw, also the Pisonians suspected him of entertaining dreams of supreme power, in spite (or perhaps because) of the “strict discipline” he acquired at the hands of the great lawyer (cf. Tac. Ann., 15, 52). Such anxieties elucidate the expectations of outsiders as to what they may have felt in regard to his intentions or conduct, and learning of them alerted Nero at once to a threat from this quarter and caused him to refrain from attempting to implicate both the elder and the younger man in the recently exposed Pisonian plot. It would be implausible that a person of young Silanus Torquatus’ genealogy should consent to recognize Gaius Piso’s precedence for the emperorship. According to the evidence, the relations between the lawyer and his charge were purely familial, with no political ramifications (cf. ibid.). This is indirectly confirmed by Nero’s own indictment against them which, as reported by Tacitus, in fact charges the pair with two sets of largely incompatible subversive designs. It was, interestingly enough, the emperor himself and not the customary delator who initiated the charge of treason, and he addressed the Senate in a special letter to that effect (ibid., 16, 7). The letter is said to have demanded that “the two must be removed from public business”—a circumspect expression for exile or banishment. The outcome of the affair suggests that, on dynastic grounds, it was not the old man but the young Silanus Torquatus who was Nero’s primary target. He was considered a latent pretender like the earlier Silani before him, as Tacitus’ account implies. At the very least, the fate of his family made him a likely bearer of an “inherited hatred” toward the regime. The lawyer, by now old and allegedly blind (Suet. Nero, 37), had to go as well, not least because of his reputed influence with the curia (cf. Pomp. apud Dig., 1, 2, 2, 51: “he possessed great authority in the state”) and the annoyance he was capable of causing on occasion. Like Thrasea Paetus, Cassius Longinus was a nuisance and, in addition, intimately connected with a potential usurper. Nor would the emphatically moralistic posture of the two men have endeared them to Nero, who detested all such manifestations. Cassius Longinus, as we saw (pp. 50f.), made a name for himself as a champion of the mos maiorum, so that Tacitus’ claim that his only crime was that of “ancestral wealth” and “austerity of character” (Ann., 16, 7) is not gratuitous. Meanwhile, of L. Silanus Torquatus, schooled by his uncle in the same “strict discipline,” it is said that his “modest youth,” together with his noble lineage, prompted his undoing. Whatever Nero’s reasoning, he acted in so clumsy a manner as to suggest that he lost his nerve after the Pisonian affair. To link the pair in one case was not wise, since he was accusing L.Silanus Torquatus of designing to seize power (presumably, like Piso)

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and Cassius Longinus of republicanist aspirations. The language of the emperor’s letter to the Senate, as reproduced by Tacitus, is vague and confusing, and it is hardly relevant whether this was caused by inconsistency or deliberation. The letter claimed that the elder man had “sought the seeds of civil war” (always an effective indictment) as well as “defection from the house of Caesars” and that, not content with “exploiting the memory of the hated name [i.e., of Cassius the tyrannicide] for the purpose of discord,” he chose a younger one “of noble origin and reckless spirit” to carry out a coup d’état (ibid.). Out of all this jumble, however, one point pertinent to the lawyer’s ancestor and namesake emerges to support a charge of political republicanism. This concerns an effigy of the tyrannicide which Cassius Longinus is said to have displayed in his home (ibid.; cf. Suet. Nero, 37) and, more damaging still, the inscription “To the Party Leader” (Ann., loc. cit.) affixed to it. This went beyond the customary rites of ancestor worship and signaled the degree and the quality of its author’s dissimulatio, given his impressive cursus honorum under the Imperial rule. The party or faction he was referring to was the optimates, that is, the traditional supporters of the republican form of government. His famous ancestor is thus portrayed not as a tyrannicide, but as the leader of a political movement, rei publicae restitutor—“the restorer of the Republic”—indicating that Nero may have been justified in his conclusion. If so, then, from the entire Neronian period, this may be the one time when such an allegation was not completely groundless and went beyond a mere rhetorical ploy. As for the emperor’s claim of active and treasonous subversion on the part of the pair, it is clear that the two projects ascribed to them were essentially at odds. A republicanist like Cassius Longinus would be striving, after all, to restore the pre-Caesarian senatorial oligarchy, and not to raise yet another member of the dynasty to the Imperial office. Meanwhile, we are told that young Silanus Torquatus, filled with terror by the fate of his other uncle, Decimus (see p. 82), had observed the utmost caution in everything political (Tac. Ann., 16, 8). Yet this did not prevent Nero from bringing against him the same “shallow and false” charge earlier brought against his uncle—that by appointing freedmen secretaries to supervise the “accounts, documents, and correspondence” of his household, he was, in fact, rehearsing for his future responsibilities as ruler of the Empire (ibid.). It may have been due to the weakness of this indictment that a second—and more scandalous—charge was brought of incest allegedly committed with his aunt Iunia Lepida, the wife of Cassius Longinus and another Imperial relative. The lady, moreover, was accused of being a practitioner of black magic (ibid.). In the case of this young man, whose behavior, like that of his uncle, suggests an accentuated, almost stylized, display of the mos maiorum, this was intended as a cruel mockery. At this stage the prosecution seems to have employed suborned perjurors to act as nominal informers, and among these may have figured, if a later scholion (ad Juv., 1, 33) is to be trusted, a Stoic teacher named Heliodorus testifying against his own pupil. The bad name earned by philosophy and philosophers during this period certainly owed much to the unscrupulous opportunists of this breed which also included the likes of Egnatius Celer, who was later instrumental in the destruction of the senator Barea Soranus and his daughter (see pp. 159f).

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Since the Imperial will had been made patently clear in the course of the proceedings, the Senate could not afford to express any concern about logic or plausibility. Both defendants were condemned and sentenced to exile (Tac. Ann., 16, 9). Cassius Longinus was banished to the island of Sardinia, “where he was expected [to die] from old age,” while Silanus Torquatus, ostensibly bound to the island of Naxos, was taken to Ostia, only to be later confined at Barium, a town in Apulia. Denounced as their accomplices (the text does not specify accomplices in what) were the senators Vulcacius Tullinus and [L.] Cornelius Marcellus and the equestrian L.Calpurnius Fabatus. This last—most likely a client of one of the condemned—is known to us as the grandfather of Calpurnia Hispulla, the younger Pliny’s wife, and the addressee of nine letters from him. Almost certainly a personal acquaintance of Tacitus, Calpurnius Fabatus must have been his source of additional information on the whole affair. All three individuals are said to have benefited from prompt appeals to the emperor to gain time, and they eventually managed to save themselves, apparently neglected by Nero in the face of other, more pressing cases (ibid., 8), or, as seems more likely, owing to his decision not to provoke further and unnecessarily the multi bonique in the wake of the heavy blow he had recently dealt them. Of the subsequent fate of Iunia Lepida nothing is known, apart from the enigmatic remark that Nero himself, and not the Senate, pronounced on her case (ibid., 9). One wonders whether this means that she was acquitted, and, if so, whether this can be taken as indirect proof of the fabricated nature of the whole charge of incest and sorcery. We are told that the young Silanus Torquatus bore gracefully his short-lived exile and that he “suffered his most unworthy lot with wisdom” (ibid.). This comment does not necessarily imply, however, his allegiance to some imagined “Stoic opposition”— nor, for that matter, does his presumed link to the perfidious teacher Heliodorus seem sufficient to argue that his commitment to philosophy was comparable to that of Seneca or even of Thrasea Paetus. In fact, his final gesture of defiance was decidedly un-Stoic; moreover, he appears to have been the only person under Nero (although the latter feared it, mistakenly, from Vestinus Atticus) capable of breaking free of the paralysis of will born of long years of dissimulatio and of exercising, if only in his final moments, a violent resistance to his executioners. Seized in Barium shortly after his trial by a centurion bearing the Imperial sentence of death and ordered to open his veins, he is said to have replied that “although he directed his mind towards death, he would not excuse the assassin the glory of his ministrations.” The perplexed centurion ordered his soldiers to overpower him, “but Silanus did not fail to oppose them and directed [at them] his blows as strongly as he could with bare fists, until he fell, fighting, from the adverse wounds [inflicted by] the centurion” (ibid.). Little does this behavior resemble the meek compliance of so many of his dissident contemporaries, recalling rather the fierce struggles against their assassins of those proscribed in the times of Marius and Sulla. Indeed, he seems almost to have been following the earlier, clandestine appeal by Antistius Vetus to the reluctant Rubellius Plautus to die in the splendor of traditional Roman fortitude. It is not surprising, then, that under Nerva

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many years later Cn. Octavius Titinius Capito, that admirer of republicanist virtues, requested and obtained permission from the government to erect a statue in L.Silanus Torquatus’ honor (Plin. Epist., 1, 17). As for Cassius Longinus, though in exile, he succeeded in surviving Nero as triumphantly as he had survived Caligula. Eventually, having escaped destruction at the hands of both, the grand old man, of a formidable and obnoxious character reminiscent of Appius Claudius Caecus or Cato the Censor, was recalled to Rome by Vespasian and died in honor at a venerable old age (Pomp. apud Dig. I, 2, 2, 51). It may indeed seem a paradox that of Nero’s many illustrious victims the only one who might, with some legitimacy, be linked to political republicanism in the end suffered the least. This fact must be seen as further evidence of how improbable and insignificant the charge of republicanist sympathies was deemed by both the government and the general public. At most, such sentiments might serve as a pretext for persecution, but never its underlying cause. It was shortly after these events that a delayed blow reached yet another eminent family, that of L.Antistius Vetus, whose daughter Antistia Pollitta had been married to the late “dynastic dissident” Rubellius Plautus. Much in Antistius Vetus’ personal conduct seems to justify a view of him as a “classical incarnation” of the mos maiorum. After all, it was he who advised his daughter’s disgraced husband to revive the ancient Roman concept of fortitude as valiant resistance to the death against all enemies, even a band of Imperial henchmen—in sharp contrast to the popular Stoic view of the same virtue which argued the “wise man’s” response in such circumstances to be the “Catonian” type of suicide. At the same time, the constant need for dissimulatio could not but lead to numerous ambiguities in even intransigent dissidents, and it is a mistake to believe that their attitudes or behavior would have matched our modern expectations of moral and psychological consistency. Antistius Vetus’ own record of collaboration with the regime was as good as any, dating back to the early years of Nero’s rule: in the year AD 55—that of the young emperor’s first consulship—he served as his colleague, consul ordinarius (Tac. Ann., 13, 11), in itself a sign of considerable distinction. He received further proof of favor when Nero excused him from having to swear the oath of allegiance to his own enactments required by precedent, an action applauded by the Senate as a gesture of liberalism. As the legate of Upper Germany in AD 58, he set out to connect two rivers with a canal, but was, according to Tacitus, discouraged by a fellow governor of Belgica who persuaded him that a display of so much energy and ambition might cause Nero jealousy (Ann., 13, 53). But it must have cost Antistius Vetus a surprising feat of dissimulatio to remain in the emperor’s trust after the Rubellius Plautus debacle of AD 62. He was still regarded as sufficiently loyal two years later to be entrusted with the coveted proconsulship of Asia, the very province where Rubellius Plautus had been exiled and met his end. Clearly, his treasonous communication with his son-in-law had for the time being escaped the eyes of the government. Although Tacitus does not make it entirely clear, his narrative implies that the charge brought against Antistius Vetus in AD 66 involved the crime of maiestas. He

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claims that Nero’s primary motive for his destruction of this family was his fear of their silent hatred and potential vengeance for his slaying of Rubellius Plautus (Tac. Ann., 16, 10). This was ironic: it was only in much earlier times that a widow could have been expected to demand revenge as a part of her pious display of devotion to a murdered husband. As it was, Antistia Pollitta, witness to her husband’s brutal execution, is portrayed as leading her life in the solemn tradition of univira, “one man’s wife”: “The widow preserved his clothes splattered with blood and, in constant mourning, she was unkempt and unconsoled, and [took] only as much food as needed to sustain life” (ibid.). No allegations are mentioned that might have linked the newly-accused with the Pisonian plot. We can, however, speculate that the rumors, or even direct evidence, of the secret message from Antistius Vetus to the doomed Rubellius Plautus advising him to revolt may finally have reached the Palatine, demanding prompt, if belated, action. Two dubious characters played the role of informers: the defendant’s own freedman (and client) Fortunatus, guilty of the embezzlement of his patron’s property, and one Claudius Demianus, whom, we are told, Antistius Vetus had convicted in Asia for unspecified crimes and who was subsequently released “in return for his denunciation” (ibid.). In ostensible disdain for the status and characters of his prosecutors, the accused man declined to defend himself in person and withdrew to his estate at Formiae, where he was kept under secret guard (ibid.). This gesture of social snobbery conformed to the pattern of ancestral dignitas. But a supreme ambivalence, if not irony, marked the same man’s exhortation to his daughter to set out on a mission, humiliating for them both, to plead for her father’s life. Tacitus skilfully portrays the inner turmoil of a woman who, “apart from the imminent peril, was indignant owing to her long grief” (ibid.). Upon her arrival in Naples, where the emperor was dwelling at the time, the young woman was subjected to a cruel drama: Access to Nero denied her, she laid seige to the gates [of his residence] with the purpose that he heed the innocent and not deliver his one-time consular colleague into the hands of a freedman; at times, [she acted] in a manner of feminine lament, but now and again she shouted in hostile voice, exceeding [the boundaries] of her sex, yet all the while the Princeps proved intransigent to both pleas and threats. (ibid.) This vivid scene pictures the virtual collapse of the suppliant’s dissimulatio: her adulatory implication that in disgracing his former colleague the emperor risks undermining his own dignity is overwhelmed by her expressions of emotional outrage. Only with the failure of his daughter’s effort to gain his pardon and upon hearing of the preparations for his trial in the Senate did Antistius Vetus resume his former dignified stand with a staunch refusal to name Nero his principal heir and so ensure for

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his grandchildren at least a portion of their inheritance. He refused, Tacitus tells us, “to spoil a life lived nearly in liberty by this last gesture of servitude” (Ann., 16, 11). In the context, the word libertas clearly means behavior in accord with an inner independence of mind and spirit, but in view of Antistius Vetus’ prosperous career, Tacitus’ qualification of his life as “lived nearly in liberty” is more fitting, and may have reflected his continuous concern over the problem of the survival of the good man under an evil rule. In any event, Antistius Vetus chose to ignore his own earlier advocacy of armed resistance, and instead, joined by his daughter and his mother-in-law, Sextia— apparently, Rubellius Plautus’ grandmother—took his own life in the grand old style. There was no talk on philosophical subjects, but he is said to have solemnly distributed among slaves all his available money and portable objects, “with the exception of three couches to be reserved for the final act.” This done, veins were opened, and the older man and woman passed away quickly, followed shortly by the younger woman, providing Tacitus with one of his most pathetic scenes (ibid.). Perhaps it was their pointed stylization of “ancestral customs” (in addition to his own sense of outrage at having been cheated of the legacy he coveted) that inspired in Nero the wicked idea of staging a gruesome comedy in the wake of his victims’ death. First, the Senate was made to pronounce a verdict sentencing them to a savage execution in traditional fashion, more maiorum. The emperor then “intervened,” to the ultimate humiliation of the “conscript fathers,” graciously allowing them, as though they were still alive, the choice of death by their own hands. “Such were the mockeries added to the perpetrated murders,” is Tacitus’ terse and bitter comment on this new interweaving of delusion and reality (ibid.). It appears that an otherwise unknown equestrian, P.Gallus, was also indicted by the same informer responsible for the fall of Antistius Vetus, the freedman Fortunatus, who was subsequently rewarded for his service with a theater seat among the tribunes’ assistants (ibid., 12)—a meager compensation, perhaps, by modern standards, but not necessarily so within the framework of the rigorously stratified Roman society. The equestrian Gallus seems to have been denounced and condemned to banishment both as an acquaintance of the late Antistius Vetus and, more detrimentally, as an intimate—presumably a client—of the executed praetorian prefect, Faenius Rufus (ibid.). The last kind of charge may or may not have implied a degree of involvement in the Pisonian conspiracy, but certainly it was employed repeatedly against a variety of inconvenient persons. All these events were followed by a curious instance of senatorial adulatio, betraying once again the religious and superstitious dimension of the Roman mind. On the motion of the eminent Salvidienus Orfitus the names of the two months following April, itself by now renamed Neroneus, were changed to honor the emperor further: May was henceforth to be called Claudius, and June, Germanicus (so that the whole sequence would form the ruling emperor’s official nomenclature—Nero Claudius Germanicus). We are told, however, that the reason for the latter change may have been apotropaic, June having become ill-omened as the month of the

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executions of the two Silani Torquati, members of the Julian family (ibid.). Not unlike his equally opportunistic colleague Anicius Cerealis, the author of this proposal suffered poetic justice for his superstitious and adulatory zeal and perished in the later years of Nero’s rule (see p. 199). Closing his account of the eventful year AD 65, Tacitus offers graphic reports of what he saw as the divine punishment of a guilty race (ibid., 13): a devastating tempest and a rash of epidemics wreaking havoc throughout the Italian countryside. After a grim description of the wreckage wrought by these calamities on the common people, he allows a paradoxical statement to imply that their lot was preferable, in fact, to that of the upper classes, who served as both a source of political dissidence and the object of political persecution: “The numberless loss [from epidemics] of senators and equestrians gave less cause for tears, since by perishing from a common ill they avoided the savagery of the Princeps” (ibid.). Evidently, such sentiments reflected a prevailing spirit during much of Tacitus’ own lifetime. III In Tacitus’ view, these natural calamities prepared the nation for the further series of public disasters which marked the following year, AD 66, and which opened with the scandalous prosecution of P.Anteius Rufus and M.Ostorius Scapula by an already familiar troublemaker, L.Antistius Sosianus, the convicted exile now turned informer. Upper-class Romans suffered particular anguish if relegated from the capital and tended to consider a sentence of banishment as little different from a penalty of death. Antistius Sosianus proved no exception. As with Seneca in Corsica, his chief preoccupation was his dream of being recalled, and the news that Nero was stepping up his campaign of terror seemed to offer him his opportunity. Tacitus’ comment that the man was “restless in spirit, and not inert in regard to a chance” (Ann., 16, 14) is in accord with what we learned of his earlier activities. He typified the self-centered dissident personality, with its most ambiguous attitudes toward politics and morals, and thus particularly well-suited to playing the game of dissimulatio without running the risk of psychological damage. Fancying himself at an earlier stage as the popular, almost rebellious leader in his quarrel with the Senate in the year of his praetorship, Antistius Sosianus had prolonged his delusions by later indulging, within a narrow dissident circle, in petty attacks on Nero—hardly detrimental to the latter, but possessing the quality of a public show. Such behavior suggests an exhibitionistic and existimatio-craving politician-performer, a possessor of a temperament not unlike that of his opposite number on the axis of power, Nero himself. Now in exile, deprived of his audience and an arena for public show, it was a small matter for this born mischiefmaker to take on the entirely new ambition of delator and to embark on this as recklessly as he earlier jumped into a conflict with a conservative official or even with the emperor himself.

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We are informed by Tacitus that in his (unspecified) place of banishment Antistius Sosianus made acquaintance with another exile, the Greek astrologer Pammenes, who had been patronized by a number of figures from high society (ibid.). Having ingratiated himself with the astrologer, Antistius Sosianus learned what could be construed as a compromising matter, namely, that Pammenes had continued practicing his profession and even communicating regularly with his customers in the capital; and that, furthermore, a yearly pension had been established for him by the distinguished P.Anteius Rufus, formerly a staunch friend and supporter of Agrippina— a burden which must have required an uncommon degree of dissimulatio to bear in the wake of Nero’s matricide. Conscious, according to Tacitus, of Nero’s animosity toward Anteius Rufus on the grounds of that earlier friendship, and also of his jealousy of the same man’s great wealth, “which thing caused the destruction of many” (ibid.), Antistius Sosianus made his move. It was no secret that not only the practice of astrology but even a mere request for a horoscope could easily result in a charge of magic and treason against the ruling emperor. The necessary material evidence was supplied by a letter from Anteius Rufus to Pammenes which Antistius Sosianus managed to intercept. To make things worse, he also succeeded in stealing certain of the astrologer’s private documents pertaining not only to the same Anteius Rufus’ “birthday and events to come,” but also to the “origin and life” of Ostorius Scapula, who evidently had ordered a horoscope of his own (ibid.). The discovery of the involvement of yet another prominent figure only encouraged this dissident-turned-informer, giving the affair a particularly nasty touch. It was Ostorius Scapula, after all, who had been the host of that same ill-fated dinner party in AD 62 at which Antistius Sosianus had recited his scurrilous anti-Neronian verses, and who, at the ensuing maiestas proceedings in regard to that episode, had denied that it had ever happened, possibly intending to rescue the defendant as well as protect himself. It may seem tempting to explain Antistius Sosianus’ perfidy to one who was in fact his benefactor by theorizing that Tacitus deliberately distorted the account of the earlier trial and that Ostorius Scapula did in fact testify against the accused, or at least incriminated him, inadvertently or otherwise. If so, the exiled man’s impeachment of his former host could be interpreted as an act of vengeance. But this temptation must be resisted. Tacitus frequently used official documents, and such a view would imply a conscious lie on his part—an entirely unwarranted conclusion. As for Antistius Sosianus’ motives, his whole career bears witness to the collapse of the traditional code of behavior, including the return of beneficia. The man was prompted by nothing more than vulgar resentment at seeing Ostorius Scapula prosper while he himself languished in trouble, at the other man’s virtuous conduct in contrast to his own, at the mere fact that it was this other who had given the fateful party and who later failed to rescue him from punishment. In any case, Antistius Sosianus wrote to the emperor from exile saying that if he were granted but a brief reprieve from his sentence, he would reveal to him important news of evil doings pertinent to his own safety, namely, that two of his subjects

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“threaten the status quo by scrutinizing their and Caesar’s fate” (Tac. Ann., 16, 14). It is not surprising that Nero obliged, and the new delator was pardoned and recalled immediately. There apparently proved no need even for an official indictment: “After the denunciation was made public, Anteius and Ostorius found themselves not among the accused, but among the condemned” (ibid.). A characteristic fear seems to have prevented the friends of Anteius Rufus from offering their services as witnesses of his will. Not a single person, we are told, volunteered, until Tigellinus himself came forth to authorize it, warning the testator “not to procrastinate with his final dispositions” (ibid.). The doomed man took poison, and, when that failed to work, he opened his veins. So ended P.Anteius Rufus. The elimination of Ostorius Scapula presented a more difficult problem. The emperor, unsettled by the recent exposure of the Pisonian plot, feared both the man’s military reputation and his physical prowess, and even suspected him as a potential leader of a revolt (cf. ibid., 15). In contrast to Anteius Rufus, Ostorius Scapula (consul suffectus c. AD 59) was a renowned soldier, a recipient of the civic crown, and a hero of the British campaigns. Tacitus very likely possessed considerable knowledge of his vicissitudes: his own work on the biography of Agricola would have acquainted him with the material pertaining to the conquest of Britain; in addition, Tacitus shared a consulate with Ostorius Scapula’s son. As for Ostorius Scapula himself, his reportedly favorable response to Antistius Sosianus’ subversive recital at his dinner party reveals the dissident dimension of his mind, although in the course of his military career he must of necessity have practiced dissimulatio to some degree, even if reluctantly, as had Domitius Corbulo and Iulius Agricola. We are told that at the time of his impeachment Ostorius Scapula was staying at his remote Ligurian estate, and that a centurion was dispatched there with the execution order (ibid.). If Nero felt apprehensive about the possible resistance of his intended victim, his worries proved groundless. The celebrated warrior submitted to the emperor’s command as obediently as any civilian, captive to the familiar paralysis of will. In Tacitus’ elegant phrase, “he turned against himself a fortitude so often directed at the enemy,” first opening his veins and finally falling upon a dagger held by a loyal slave (ibid.). The destruction of this popular and ostensibly innocent man may have led to repercussions that at the time went unnoticed. This was, after all, the first blow Nero had dealt to the standing army, thereby embarking upon the decimation of its higher echelon—a course of action largely responsible for his own eventual downfall. Of the astrologer Pammenes no more is heard. One may surmise that he either perished or perhaps disappeared in the turmoil. As for Antistius Sosianus, his stormy career was not yet over. From Tacitus’ Historiae we learn that in AD 69, when Licinius Mucianus and Domitian controlled the city as Vespasian’s delegates, the multi bonique, having begun their campaign against the Neronian delatores, won from the authorities, as a minor concession, the banishment of Antistius Sosianus together with that of Egnatius Celer, the witness for the prosecution at the trial of Barea Soranus (see pp. 185f.). Antistius Sosianus was sent back into exile and Tacitus touches for the last time on the character of this obnoxious troublemaker, both dissident and

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opportunist, and aptly epitomizes his record thus: “Owing to the depravity of his morals, Sosianus was calamitous to many” (Hist., 4, 44). To orchestrate his account of the escalating terror that culminated in the destruction of Thrasea Paetus, whom he calls “virtue itself,” Tacitus indulges in one of his somber, skilfully placed interventions, both to vindicate his subject matter and to lament the misery of the times: Even if I had been commemorating external wars and deaths for the sake of the commonwealth with such a similarity of disasters, I would myself have started feeling sated and I would have expected to inspire tedium in others, who would be repelled by the deaths, however honorable, yet depressing and unending, of our citizens; but as it is, this servile patience and so much blood shed at home exhaust the spirit and upset it with grief. (Ann., 16, 16) Tacitus here strikes at the heart of the matter when he points out the morbid effect of dissimulatio, the “servile patience” in the face of imminent destruction: out of the entire cast of his dissident characters only the young L.Silanus Torquatus ventured to offer any physical resistance to his executioners. Tacitus’ subsequent attempt at compassion, however bitterly phrased, must here serve as testimony of his own inner anguish, and of his humanitas: “Let the only defense that I request from those who would learn of these things be the fact that I did not hate those who perished in lethargy” (ibid.). This is followed by the reference to the anger of the heavens as if it was an extentuating circumstance and affirms his own social and moral selection of his material: “Let this be allowed to the posterity of famous men that, as they are distinguished from common burial by their funerals, so in the recording of their last moments, they should accept and receive their own distinctive memorial” (ibid.). This paragraph is followed by the narrative of the downfall of four men, each of whom appears to have perished owing to allegations of Pisonian ties, which Tacitus either disclaims or implies to be mere pretext. In addition, it seems, or at least is so construed by Tacitus, that three of the men, Rufrius Crispinus, Annaeus Mela, and Anicius Cerealis, whose fates he portrays immediately preceding the description of Petronius Arbiter’s famous suicide scene, may have been linked to one another in some obscure way connected with the conduct or vicissitudes of Annaeus Mela, Seneca’s brother. Rufrius Crispinus is an important name. One of two praetorian prefects (AD 47–51) under Claudius, he proved active in the prosecution of Valerius Asiaticus, accused of conspiracy against Claudius (Tac. Ann., 11, 1), for which he received a monetary gift of a million and a half sesterces (ibid., 4) and praetorian, or possibly even consular, ornaments. Upon Messallina’s fall, he was dismissed under pressure from Agrippina, who had championed Afranius Burrus (ibid., 12, 42; cf. 16, 17). Even though he was one of those responsible for the ruin of her mother, who was condemned as Valerius Asiaticus’ associate, this able equestrian married Poppaea

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Sabina—a telling touch in the period’s cynical opportunism—who had given birth to his child prior to her tumultuous liaisons with Otho and Nero. The man thus belonged, at least in part, to the curious category of “sexual dissidents,” or of “dissidents by misadventure,” in the company of such worthies as the same Otho, Iulius Montanus, and Vestinus Atticus. Not surprisingly, the jealous Nero is said to have hated him (cf. ibid., 15, 71), and that feeling may well have been mutual, requiring from Rufrius Crispinus an inordinate degree of dissimulatio. His case presented the emperor with a perfect combination of personal and political grudges. We have seen him banished in the aftermath of the Pisonians’ exposure, even though it is unlikely that he played any substantial role in the plot, since this would have run counter to the interests of the then praetorian prefect and leading conspirator, Faenius Rufus. One can speculate that Rufrius Crispinus’ life was temporarily saved through the intervention of Poppaea Sabina herself. Her death must have sealed his doom. The following year, exiled to Sardinia, he is said to have anticipated the inevitable execution by committing suicide (ibid., 16, 17). According to Suetonius (Nero, 35), Nero had no qualms about ordering the drowning of Rufrius Crispinus’ son—and his own stepson—also Rufrius Crispinus, though the date of this boy’s death cannot be exactly determined. The youngest of the “dynastic dissidents,” this child evidently had no time to learn even the rudiments of dissimulatio, and it is, characteristically, said that he was put to death on the pretext of his habit of “playing at being a general and an emperor” (ibid.). Certainly the incident shows the extremes reached by Nero’s “dynastic” paranoia during this period. One should not forget, however, that the boy was related to Nero in exactly the same way as Nero had been to Claudius before his adoption. [M?] Annaeus Mela appears to have been a person of an uncommon, if not idiosyncratic, character. He was apparently the favorite son of his father, the old Rhetor, who extols his talents even to the denigration of those of his two brothers (Contr., 2, praef. 4)—in itself no small distinction, since one of these was the philosopher Seneca. Annaeus Mela emerges also as a man of culture: the Rhetor notes his interest in Stoic philosophy, encourages him to study eloquence, and indicates elsewhere that in regard to the merits of individual orators, father and son were occasionally in disagreement (ibid., 10, praef. 9). It is worth observing that the father made quite clear his awareness of the dangers inherent in the senatorial political careers chosen by his two other sons—Seneca and Iunius Gallio—and voiced approval of Annaeus Mela’s resolve not to embark on the same path: But since your brothers care for ambitious goals and set themselves for the forum and a political career, where even what one hopes for is to be feared, even I, who otherwise am eager for such advancement and encourage and praise such efforts (their dangers don’t matter, provided they are honorable), even I keep you in port while your two brothers voyage out. (ibid., 2 praef. 4; cf. 3; see also Sen. Ad Helv., 18, 2)

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It seems, however, that Annaeus Mela’s choice of an equestrian career, as procurator of the Imperial domain, over the senatorial one open to him was not inspired by the quest for Stoic apatheia, or by a lack of ambition, or even by a fear of political dangers, although it is arguable that the need for dissimulatio on his part would thereby have been much diminished. Rather, as our sources emphasize, his choice was the result of his wish to pursue wealth. He refrained from seeking offices, Tacitus tells us, “on grounds of a preposterous ambition to equal the power of a consular by remaining a Roman equestrian; simultaneously, he believed that the quickest way to acquire money was through procuratorships administering the affairs of the Princeps” (Ann., 16, 17). In fact, his covetousness appears to have proven the chief and immediate cause of his downfall. It is uncertain to what extent, if any, he was privy to the conspiratorial designs of the Pisonians, although he may have known from his son Lucan, or from his putative one-time mistress Epicharis, of the plot’s existence. The delay of Annaeus Mela’s destruction by nearly a year testifies indirectly to his innocence in any planned subversion. If Lucan, as was rumored, in the course of his nervous breakdown following the exposure of the Pisonians went so far as to implicate his mother, who was clearly innocent of any involvement in the plot, his apparent failure to implicate his father, had he been guilty, would indeed be surprising. According to Tacitus, Annaeus Mela’s downfall was precipitated by his effort to collect debts owed by various individuals to his late son (ibid.). It is not clear whether any or all of Lucan’s estate was confiscated, but one is inclined to interpret his father’s actions as an indication that it was, and that his financial campaign to recover some of the money loaned by Lucan to various individuals amounted to an attempt to defraud the Imperial treasury. In any event, we are told that, as a result of Annaeus Mela’s efforts, one of the debtors, a certain Fabius Romanus, described as Lucan’s close friend, decided to rid himself of this insistent creditor by denouncing him as an accomplice of his conspirator son, supporting his claim with a forged letter purportedly written by the son to the father (ibid.). The details of the story become increasingly obscure, but there is no reason to downplay Nero’s interest, as reported by Tacitus, in acquiring yet another large fortune. In anticipation of this, and possibly responding to the recent precedent provided by Anteius Rufus, Annaeus Mela prior to opening his arteries bequeathed a considerable portion of his estate to Tigellinus and to Cossutianus Capito, “so that the rest would stay” (ibid.). It is unknown whether this ploy actually worked. It must have been later that year—beyond the chronology of the extant part of the Annales—that the third brother, L.Iunius Gallio Annaeanus, the suffect consul of AD 55, committed suicide. The adopted son of a declaimer who had suffered disgrace under Tiberius (Tac. Ann., 6, 3), Iunius Gallio enjoyed an impressive career and was called “my friend” by Claudius in an official letter (SIG 3 81D). However, he owes his place in history largely to his dismissal, as governor of Achaia in AD 51–2, of the charges brought against St Paul by the Corinthian Jews (Acts, 18, 12–17). He was not, however, a stranger to literary interests. Seneca’s De Ira and De Vita Beata are

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dedicated to him, and at his instigation Columella wrote the tenth book of his treatise on agriculture (Coll., 9, 16). Although he is specifically lauded by his brother Seneca for his hatred of flattery (Nat. Quaest. 4a, praef. 10ff.), his reported witticisms on Claudius’ apotheosis (Dio, 60, 35) coupled with the fact that he served as herald of Nero’s artistic performance at the festival of Iuvenalia (ibid., 20, 1) testify to the measure of his dissimulatio. We have heard of the informer Salienus Clemens’ nasty attack on him in the immediate aftermath of the Pisonian conspiracy. From the statement of Eusebius-Jerome (s.a.), our chief authority on the dating of his death (cf. Dio, 62, 25), it is not possible to infer whether his demise was connected with the downfall of his brother Annaeus Mela. This seems as appropriate a place as any to refer to the banishment of L.Annaeus Cornutus, a Greek from Lepcis and a Stoic rhetorician, who was an intimate friend of Persius and the teacher of both him and Lucan even though the episode is reported by Dio under the earlier year AD 65: He [Nero] was now making preparations to write an epic narrating all the achievements of the Romans; and even before composing a line of it he began to consider the proper number of books, consulting among others Annaeus Cornutus, who at this time was famed for his learning. This man he came very near putting to death and did deport to an island, because, while some were urging him to write four hundred books, Cornutus said that this was too many and nobody would read them. And when someone objected, “Yet Chrysippus, whom you praise and imitate, composed many more,” the other retorted: “But they are a help to the conduct of men’s lives.” So Cornutus incurred banishment for this. (62, 69) Dio’s chronology, however, is notoriously faulty. His dating suggests that Annaeus Cornutus suffered his banishment at the time of the harassment of intellectuals in the aftermath of the Pisonian plot, to which Verginius Flavus and Musonius Rufus also fell victim, but this is unlikely: if such were the case, Tacitus would almost certainly have mentioned it. Furthermore, the context of Dio’s anecdote suggests somewhat quieter times: in Dio’s version, Annaeus Cornutus emerges, at least in part, as an example of what may be called “aesthetic dissidence” since he seems to have suffered on the account of his skepticism regarding Nero’s literary project. His disgrace may have been caused, or precipitated, in AD 66, by the downfall of Annaeus Mela and Iunius Gallio, the last two prominent survivors of the family whose client or even freedman Annaeus Cornutus most likely was. A third proposed dating of the event to AD 68 would lead to the assumption that Nero included this dissident philosopher in his retinue for the Grand Tour of Greece, which is hardly probable. Annaeus Cornutus was a prodigious author of various prose tracts and even tragedies, though his only surviving work is an exceedingly tedious and all but impenetrable treatise on the etymology and semantics of theological nomenclature, Theologiae Graecae Compendium.

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Tacitus concludes his account of the Annaeus Mela affair with a passage giving rise to both textual and interpretative problems: “To his will a codicil was added, as if complaining of suffering death and punishment for no reason while Rufrius Crispinus and Anicius Cerealis, hostile to the Princeps, enjoy their lives” (Ann., 16, 17). This phrase can be read in two ways: either the incriminatory postscript was the product of the ill-willed testator, or it was fabricated by others on Nero’s orders. The first interpretation would indicate that Annaeus Mela inserted these words in order to destroy Anicius Cerealis, disguising this intent by appending the name of Rufrius Crispinus (who by this time had in fact been executed). This, however, seems to me the less likely interpretation. Tacitus’ text appears, indeed, to be deliberately ambiguous and to be carefully guarding against the assumption that the words were actually written by Annaeus Mela. Yet the purpose of the addendum is made sufficiently clear by the historian: to justify one man’s murder and to ensure that of the other (ibid.)—a similar contingency, that is to say a possibility of outside interference with his will, Petronius anticipated and guarded against when, soon afterwards, realizing that he was doomed, he deliberately broke his signet ring. Be that as it may, the fate of C.Anicius Cerealis, a suffect consul of AD 65, whom we remember as the author of a sycophantic proposal to erect a temple in honor of the god Nero, was sealed. He was a notorious figure, and Tacitus states flatly that his suicide caused “less commiseration than in the case of others, for the reason that it was remembered how he betrayed a conspiracy to Gaius Caesar” (Ann., 16, 17). This comment is not much illuminated by the account, preserved by Zonaras, one of Dio’s epitomators (59, 25, 5), of the conspiracy against Caligula in AD 40. The text is obscure and evidently corrupt, but its message appears to contradict Tacitus’ assertion—indeed, Anicius Cerealis even emerges to some extent as a hero. It was one S.Papinius, presumably his stepson, who is said to have revealed the names of the conspirators after being tortured (and later killed) before the very eyes of his stepfather, who is portrayed as enduring this sight in staunch silence. Seneca, on the other hand, mentions the ordeal of Papinius, whom he refers to merely as “the son of a consular,” attributing his death simply to Caligula’s whim, without connecting it to any conspiracy or judicial process (De Ira, 3, 18, 3). While one can never know what actually happened during secret proceedings of this sort, and while modern experience teaches that many honest reputations can be ruined by unsubstantiated rumor, still there seems to be no reason for preferring the evidence of Dio-Zonaras to Tacitus’ conviction of Anicius Cerealis’ treachery. The former account may have been a product of confusion, and indeed it does not even specify whether Anicius Cerealis survived the ordeal, although we know from other sources that he did. In fact, it can be argued that the Dio-Zonaras version resulted from the contamination of two separate episodes: that of Papinius’ torture by Caligula for sadistic pleasure; and that of Anicius Cerealis’ complicity in, and subsequent betrayal of, the conspiracy against him. If so, Anicius Cerealis represented yet another example of the “dissident-turned-informer,” roughly in the same category as Antistius Sosianus or Fabricius Veiento. In contrast to the other two, however, he seems to

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have undergone a truly excruciating experience at the hands of the mad emperor. He was apparently allowed to proceed with his career, but one can easily imagine the pathetic blend of fear and hatred with which he was henceforth filled, forcing him to exercise his dissimulatio to the limit. This would well account for his erratic and excessively adulatory proposal, interpreted by the suspicious Nero as disguising animus nocendi or perhaps even conspiratorial designs. Mortal fright, once suffered, can never be forgotten; it leaves a distinct mark on one’s personality and taints one’s behavior with the irrational. IV The last prominent literary figure to fall victim to the repercussions of the Pisonian conspiracy was Petronius Arbiter, the reputed author of the Satyricon. Scant though it is, the available material on his life yields several important insights. This is largely Tacitus’ masterful characterization of him (Ann., 16, 18–19), a portrayal replete with suggestive innuendoes: Petronius deserves some further attention. He was a man who spent his days sleeping and his nights working or enjoying himself. Industry is the usual foundation of success, but with him it was idleness. Unlike most people who throw away their money in dissipation, he was not regarded as an extravagant sensualist, but as one who made luxury fine art. His conversation and his way of life were unconventional with a certain air of nonchalance, and they charmed people all the more by seeming so unstudied. Yet as proconsul of Bithynia and later as consul, he showed himself a vigorous and capable administrator. His subsequent return to his old habits, whether this was real or apparent, led to his admission to the small circle of Nero’s intimates, where he became the Arbiter of Elegance. In the end Nero’s jaded appetite regarded nothing as enjoyable unless Petronius had given sanction to it. (ibid., 18) This is an exemplary representation of dissimulatio at work: Tacitus makes it clear that Petronius appears to be what in truth he is not. Almost every phrase sounds deliberately ambiguous, containing a paradox, two conflicting viewpoints, or even an oxymoron. This stylish effort is not to be explained away by rhetorical f ashion or the author’s preference for moral antimony and for a pointed sententia: the accumulation of contrasts produces a result both psychologically coherent and credible. Petronius’ personality had a powerful effect on the imagination of his peers, leaving so lasting an impact that a vivid memory of him was handed down to the next generation, thereby enabling Tacitus to draw his exceptionally powerful image. This character study happily combines the typical with the individual. On the one hand, its subject evidently belonged to the pauci et validi, the emerging species of dynamic and unscrupulous collaborators with the regime, the ambivalent adventurers

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equally prepared for a dazzling career at the court or for a spectacular downfall, who enjoyed courting danger by teasing the tyrant. Of a similar stamp were such contemporaries of Petronius as Otho, Vestinus Atticus, Eprius Marcellus, Fabricius Veiento, or, for that matter, another future emperor, Cocceius Nerva. But at the same time, the Tacitean text clearly implies the unique and original propensities in the figure of Petronius. An aura of respectability surrounds him despite his unconventional lifestyle. He apparently received a good education and descended from a well-established family, possibly part of a clan following collaborationist policies. His career, however, seems entirely proper, not at all resembling the sudden rise of an upstart like, say, a Vibius Crispus or a Cossutianus Capito. If he and one T.Petronius Niger were indeed one and the same, as has recently been persuasively suggested, he governed Bithynia following his praetorship, and served as suffect consul around AD 62 or 63. There is not the slightest evidence that he was ever involved in any delation or other politically obnoxious activities; on the contrary, the passage quoted above places careful emphasis on the respect Petronius enjoyed among those who mattered (at least from Tacitus’ point of view) and even on the sympathy he elicited from some of them. Tacitus’ portrayal offers a keen insight into what played a major role in Petronius’ life, namely, his aesthetic sensibilities and preoccupations—nothing really new at the court of the “artistic tyrant,” but in this case, by common consensus and against the standards of taste of the period, considered as having reached a level of perfection. The language, the syntax, even the turns of thought are tantalizingly suggestive: they connote art and artificiality and, though leaving Petronius’ motives open, allude to some ultimate purpose in his extravagant behavior. His pronounced insouciance and his reputation for idleness are by no means consonant with the conjecture that the compelling factor behind his emergence at Nero’s court was actually his uncanny ambition to reign there as the supreme authority of taste. Still, an imaginative reader can easily extend, or complete, the picture and envision “the arbiter of elegance,” admitted into the exclusive Imperial “club” for his “imitation of vices,” as playing the part of a keen observer intent on minute details, scribbling pointedly in his secret scrap book, and planning the creation of a social comedy or a biting satire, largely for his own satisfaction. Even if a somewhat frivolous fantasy from a scholarly viewpoint, this image of an ironic, dispassionate observer and his literary aspirations draws some support from the catalogue of Imperial sexual depravities Petronius is said to have sent to Nero in a letter before his suicide (Ann., 16, 19). This speculation leads to the probability that the dissimulatio Petronius had to practice in Nero’s company was of a particular, literary kind. A need for dissimulatio was certainly there: it is simplistic to believe that this man could have been a genuine friend of Nero, as is sometimes claimed. Two additional pieces of biographical information which we possess speak definitely against such a claim. Plutarch writes, in the context of his discussion on the difference between adulation and friendship:

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Next, however, comes that unscrupulous practice which has such a damaging effect on silly people. This consists in accusing them of tendencies and weaknesses the very opposite of their real failings… This may take the form of sneering at reckless and extravagant spenders for their petty-minded and sordid ways—Titus Petronius did this with Nero. (Quom. adul. ab am. internosc., 60 d–e) This passage means that Petronius took deliberate aim at the corruption and debasement of the emperor for the purpose of secret mockery—a dangerous undertaking, and one not unfamiliar to figures like Vestinus Atticus or Fabricius Veiento, also considered for a while Imperial amici. Even more revealing of Petronius’ true sentiments in this regard is his famous gesture on the eve of his suicide, which we learn of from the elder Pliny’s account: “T.Petronius, a consular, when he was going to die through Nero’s jealousy and envy, broke his fluorspar wine-dipper so that the Emperor’s table would not inherit it. It had cost 300,000 sesterces” (NH, 37, 2). A mere reminder of the man’s refined aesthetic sensibilities makes us realize what accumulated contempt for Nero was needed to push Petronius to the destruction of so precious an object. Both anecdotes seem to be derived from reliable traditions, and the second particularly struck contemporaries, owing to the extravagance of Petronius’ gesture. Both strongly suggest that in his capacity as Imperial amicus Petronius played the imposter—he actually was not what he pretended to be. It is at this very juncture that his dissimulated dissidence can be definitely pinpointed on the biographical level. It was a condition that affected his entire experience as politician and courtier, not merely a resentment born in him at the moment of his final outburst. It is no coincidence that the theme of imposture and dissimulation plays a crucial role in the Satyricon, which is, after all, devoted to the adventures of professional confidence men. It is tempting to propose that in constructing the characters of the novel, Petronius created an artistically ironic projection of, and reflection on, his personal experience of imposture and dissimulatio as courtier and Neronian libertine. Even aside from his authorship of the Satyricon, Petronius’ status at the court was precarious: his finesse, creativity, and sarcastic wit were bound, sooner or later, to rouse Nero’s envy. Since Petronius belonged to the circle of libertines dominated by such characters as Calvia Crispinella, Nero’s “teacher of lewdness,” (Tac. Hist., 1, 73; see p. 219) some aspect of what I earlier labeled “sexual dissidence” may well have been a factor in his predicament. After all, complex interrelations within a tightly knit and sexually-oriented group of people are prone, as a rule, to produce psychodramas and emotional explosions. But it seems even more likely that Petronius’ secret posture as “aesthetic dissident,” in the final analysis at odds with Nero’s own tastes, bears the ultimate responsibility for his ruin. At some point Nero was made to recognize the full extent of contempt felt for him by his “arbiter of elegance,” and reference by Tacitus suggests that it was Tigellinus who acted as the perpetrator of mischief: he is said to have possessed a grudge against a rival “more skilful than himself

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in the science of debauchery” (Ann., 16, 18). The Satyricon may have played the catalyst in this scenario. If Petronius showed Nero the novel, this would mean that he envisaged the emperor as an unsophisticated reader, incapable of penetrating the text beyond the surface of sexual adventures. Such a calculation accords well with Petronius’ bent of mind and with his penchant for risk, and judging by what is known of Nero’s character, the gamble might have paid off—provided the emperor were left to read the novel on his own. But one only needs to take a short step further to imagine Tigellinus in the role of censorious and malicious interpreter (the type of Ovid’s “most inimical foe” (cf. Trist., 2, 77ff.)), enlightening Nero on the subversive and offensive repercussions contained in Petronius’ satirical innuendoes in regard to himself, to his “artistic tyranny,” and to contemporary society at large. This was enough to doom the novelist, making the official charge against Petronius—complicity with the Pisonians through his friendship with Flavius Scaevinus (Ann., 16, 18)—a mere pretext. Petronius’ popularity at court may account for the elaborate preparation for his indictment: we are explicitly told that this was done on the initiative of Tigellinus (ibid.), who is said to have bribed one of Petronius’ slaves to turn informer, deprived the accused of the opportunity for selfdefense, and made a show of arresting the greater part of his household (ibid.). Petronius was arrested at Cumae on his way to join Nero in Campania (ibid., 19). There, realizing that the game was up (ibid.), he proceeded with the spectacle of his suicide, designed and performed with the clear purpose of proclaiming the superiority of his own vision and way of life: Not that he was hasty in taking leave of life. On the contrary, he opened his veins and then, as the fancy took him, he bound them up or reopened them. Meanwhile he talked with his friends, but not on serious topics or anything calculated to win admiration for his constancy and firmness. He listened to them engaged not in discussions about the immortality of the soul or the customs of the wise, but in performing light songs and frivolous verse. He dealt out rewards to some of his slaves and floggings to others. He had a good dinner and slept for a while, so that his death, although forced upon him, should appear natural. (ibid.) More than any other of his contemporaries, Petronius succeeded in defeating and dispelling, by the very mode of his exit, and still more, by his posthumous gesture of defiance, the nightmare of dissimulatio that accompanied them throughout their lives. In contrast to the practice of many of his peers and fellow dissidents, whose dissimulatio continued beyond the grave, Petronius reversed, in a brilliant stroke of extravagance, the adulatory procedures of the many condemned to death who left legacies to the emperor out of their property in the hope that their heirs would be left in peace:

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Even in the codicils to his will, he refused to put down any of the usual deathbed flatteries to Nero or Tigellinus or any of the other courtiers. Instead he listed the Emperor’s [sexual] vices, prefaced with the names of his male and female partners, and specifying the novel forms of [their] debauchery. This list he sealed and dispatched to Nero. (ibid.) Although the flamboyance of his demise had precedent, for instance, in the suicide of Valerius Asiaticus, the disgraced friend of Claudius, in AD 47 (Ann., 11, 3), Petronius’ imaginative deathbed insult to Nero’s self-esteem makes him unique. Finally, there is the telling touch which intimates the sense of responsibility Petronius possessed: he broke his signet ring so that it could not be misused in the future to cause further mischief. An attractive modern suggestion views this “catalogue of vice” as making use of a potentiality in the plot of the Satyricon, that is, as a table of correspondences between what the author knew of the emperor’s libidinous life and the scenes of sexual acrobatics abounding in his fiction—which, incidentally, does not mean that the novel was conceived from the start as a roman-à-clef. At any rate, the blow was deftly aimed and clearly hurt its target: despite his professed indifference to moralism of any sort, Nero felt betrayed and went into a rage. Suspecting one Silia, a lady of his—and Petronius’—close acquaintance (ibid., 16, 20), of leaking confidential information, he drove her into exile. She is said to have been a person of some note and the wife of a senator (ibid.), but presumably belonged to the same species of emancipated matrons as Messallina or Calvia Crispinilla. If, however, Nero’s suspicions of her treachery were justified, this would suggest a greater complexity in her character and a failure in dissimulatio that led to the premature end to her libertine career at court. It remains obscure whether Nero’s next victim, the ex-praetor Minutius Thermus, whose execution Tacitus reports in the same breath as that of Petronius, was involved in, say, patronage relationship with him. They were united, however, in enmity of Tigellinus (Ann., 16, 20). We are told that Minutius Thermus’ freedman played delator against Tigellinus, though the nature of the charges is unknown—possibly bribery and corruption. Whether his act was by his own initiative or at the instigation of his former master, it was a hopeless attempt with a predictable outcome: “[The freedman] expiated [his action] by the pains of torture, and his patron by unmerited death” (ibid.). It may be assumed that Minutius Thermus’ death was as undistinguished as the many “suicides” forced upon members of the Senate, committed meekly or in quiet despair. Tacitus sensed a pervasive lack of character among members of the upper class, and this gave more value to the memory of the few truly exceptional individuals. Of these, Petronius the Arbiter enjoyed a special status: it is hard to find another character in Tacitus’ work drawn with such a mixture of disapproval and admiration. It is a portrait that continues to fascinate us to the present day. Placed within the sequence of the great death scenes, the depiction of Petronius’ suicide

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serves as a comment and a reflection: ironic, on the “equally stylized” exit of Seneca, and dramatic, on the last stand of Thrasea Paetus. To quote an eminent scholar, “The studied elegance of his end, in harmony with the manner of his life, exhibited contempt for the essential vulgarity of his friend, the Emperor Nero. It also conveyed a gentle rebuke to the men of conscious rectitude.” V Tacitus considered the trials and deaths of Thrasea Paetus and Barea Soranus the culmination of the Neronian terror (Ann., 16, 21; cf. Dio, 62, 26f.). [Q? Marcius?] Barea Soranus, consul suffectus AD 52, was impeached by the equestrian delator Ostorius Sabinus and tried in separate proceedings (Tac. Ann., 16, 22). Our sources indicate no particular connection between Barea Soranus and Thrasea Paetus, apart from reputation and a simultaneity of misfortune. Although both men are embraced by the Tacitean definition “virtue itself,” Barea Soranus was outshone by his colleague’s forceful personality; nor is there any evidence that he followed at any time Thrasea Paetus’ precedent of secessio. Rather, he appears to have been, while undoubtedly belonging to the multi bonique, a sort of collaborationist. One is surprised to learn that, as consul-designate of AD 52, this paragon of virtue made a motion to honor Claudius’ universally hated freedman secretary Pallas with praetorian ornaments and the handsome sum of one hundred and fifty thousand sesterces (Ann., 12, 52; cf. Plin. NH, 35, 18; 58; 201)—arguably, the largest such money gift on record. He preceded Antistius Vetus in the office of proconsul of Asia around AD 61–4, and the vicissitudes of this proconsulate seem to have been chiefly responsible for his ruin. It is said that Barea Soranus earned a fair amount of popularity by an energetic building program in the city of Ephesus and by condoning the use of force by the city of Pergamon in its attempt to prevent the Imperially ordered pillage of its artistic treasures (Tac. Ann., 16, 23). This last stand, if correctly reported, testifies to a high degree of courage, greater certainly than that manifested by Seneca in his pointed dissociation from this same kind of plunder. Very likely Barea Soranus’ capacities for dissimulatio had by this time become exhausted, in part as an after-effect of the recent murder of Rubellius Plautus, his friendship with whom was now raised in retrospect as one of the main charges against him and a sign of his disloyalty and alleged subversiveness (ibid.). His dissidence may well have intensified under the influence of Stoic philosophy, coupled with remorse for his own past sycophancy. Though his interest in Stoicism is well attested, it is very unlikely that it served as the pretext for his undoing. While the doctrine was frowned upon by the authorities and caused increasing Imperial displeasure, there was no wholesale or consistent persecution of the Stoics under Nero. It was Barea Soranus’ political conduct or connections, not his philosophical beliefs, that were at issue: as we shall see, his own “household philosopher” was a crucial witness for the prosecution. It may be safely assumed that Barea Soranus maintained friendly relations with Antistius Vetus even after the debacle with Rubellius Plautus,

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the latter’s son-in-law. Furthermore, Barea Soranus’ own daughter was married to Annius Pollio, who had been implicated in the Pisonian conspiracy and recently exiled. All this, compounded by personal animosity (cf. ibid., 21), provided Nero with sufficient reason for doing away with him. At the same time, however, his Stoic associations were markedly indiscriminate. On the one hand, he apparently enjoyed a close acquaintance with the famous Musonius Rufus, whom he may have met in Asia in the entourage of Rubellius Plautus. It was Musonius Rufus, in fact, who, upon his return from exile later under Vespasian, initiated proceedings in a cause célèbre to avenge Barea Soranus’ death. On the other hand, as mentioned above, Barea Soranus retained in the capacity of “household philosopher”—but also as a client—one P.Egnatius Celer from Berytos (ibid., 32; Dio, 62, 26, 2; cf. Juv., 3, 116ff.), who proved an ungrateful traitor, and who is pointedly characterized by Tacitus, in a warning to his readers against false philosophical pretensions: This client of Soranus, even then purchased [i.e., bribed] to encompass his friend’s ruin, pretended the authority of the Stoic sect and trained to assume the appearance of an honorable man by his manner and looks; in fact, his was a perfidious soul, shrewd and concealing avarice and lust. (Ann., 16, 32; cf. Hist., 4, 10) This is a graphic portrayal of the dissimulatio characteristic of the collaborationists, which was the moral opposite of that of the dissidents—not virtue disguised as opportunism, but the reverse, opportunism disguised as virtue—and this allowed Tacitus to proceed: “Revealed by the bribe, [his conduct] offered an example to beware not so much of the frauds or those stained by villainy, but of those who have the appearance of goodness [to cloak] their deceit, and of friendship to work treachery” (Ann., loc. cit.). Barea Soranus’ association with a man of the sort that had begun to give philosophy a “bad name” makes his philosophical commitments sound shallow and portrays him as a typical amateur and philosophizing senator, not a Stoic sage or even a professional student of the doctrine. The conduct of Egnatius Celer indicates the growing erosion of the client-patron relationship, an ominous characteristic of the times and perils that now became potentially inherent in that revered traditional institution. Tacitus contrasts Egnatius Celer’s performance with the attitude of Barea Soranus’ other dependant, one Cassius Asclepiodotus, a Greek from Nicaea, whose case made manifest a predicament of a loyal client drawn into political trouble because of his patron’s adverse fortunes: “The same day also offered the honorable example of Cassius Asclepiodotus, prominent among the Bythinians for his wealth, who, devoted to Soranus in the latter’s prosperity, did not abandon him in the moment of his fall” (Ann., 16, 33). Dio specifies that this man, “so far from speaking against Soranus, actually bore witness to his noble qualities” (62, 26, 2). In retaliation, Nero drove Cassius Asclepiodotus into exile, confiscating his entire estate, while the pseudo-Stoic Egnatius Celer was properly rewarded, although he was later to suffer vengeance at the hands of

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Musonius Rufus, who impeached him during the early Vespasianic “thaw.” Tacitus’ concern for the proprieties required by the “ancestral customs” is evident, even though he melancholically concludes that this immediate outcome “is a proof of the gods’ indifference as regards both good and evil” (Ann., loc. cit.). But it is in the scene between Barea Soranus and his daughter Servilia which Tacitus tells us took place in the Senate courtroom that we see the implications of mos maiorum emerge with a special poignance. The delator Ostorius Sabinus strongly implied political treason on the part of Barea Soranus, citing both his association with the late Rubellius Plautus (ibid., 30) and his proconsulate of Asia, “which he had administered with a view to enhancing his personal renown rather than out of any feeling for the public good, feeding the fire of sedition within communities.” But in this instance, as on several earlier occasions, Nero chose to strengthen the case by emphasizing a far deadlier charge, if only indirectly related to politics—the practice of astrology and magic, and involving not even the aged defendant, but his nineteen-year-old daughter, Servilia. One can only speculate on the emperor’s motives apart from psychological sadism. It may be that, with the shortage of conclusive evidence of a political nature, he sought to employ the same device that had successfully served him in the prosecution of L.Iunius Silanus Torquatus and his aunt (see p. 139). Furthermore, Nero needed better orchestration of Thrasea Paetus’ contemporaneous trial, in which political evidence against the accused was all but nonexistent, so that he may have wished to avoid trying the Senate’s patience with too similar indictments against both men. And in the case of magical practices, two legal statutes, lex Iulia de maiestate and lex Cornelia de sicariis et maleficiis, each calling for the death penalty, could be invoked at once, thus providing the authorities with welcome room for maneuvering. Officially, Servilia was accused of paying magicians with money obtained from the sale of her bridal jewelry (Tac. Ann., 16, 31), for the purpose, one presumes, of having them read her family’s future. Her consultation of fortune-tellers was a proven fact, but its nature could not but remain controversial. Given the recent exile of her husband and the new perils threatening her father, Tacitus’ insistence on the wholly innocuous character of her inquiries (ibid., 30) is plausible, although she, concerned with the fate of her loved ones, may not have spurned the opportunity to have the end of their persecutor foretold. It is a curious—and telling—feature of the political mentality of the time that any magical or astrological gesture instantly risked being interpreted as a harmful act directed against the emperor’s well-being—in other words, subjected to an interpretatio prava. And it was this allegation of animus nocendi that Servilia vehemently denied. Tacitus’ rendering of her words, which is quite likely derived from the official records of the senatorial proceedings, has her assert that she resorted to no infernal forces or spells and prayed only for the salvation of her father through the mercy of the Senate and of the emperor (ibid., 31), whose name, she testified, “has not been mentioned [by her] except among the divinities” (ibid.). Such was her naive and futile attempt to reconcile two conflicting facets of pietas—devotion to the parent and

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devotion to the princeps as the state incarnate. One can only guess at the degree of dissimulatio, conscious or unconscious, that went with it. But it is in the encounter of father and daughter in the courtroom that the depth of their mutual familial pietas is most poignantly revealed, recalling Antistia Pollitta’s pathetic intervention on behalf of her father, Antistius Vetus (see p. 142). It is said that the two engaged in a competition of generosity, each in a desperate effort to save the other: Servilia disclaiming her father’s complicity in any fortune-telling and pleading that she alone was guilty; Barea Soranus arguing that his daughter was too young to have known Rubellius Plautus, that she had not accompanied him to the provinces and had taken no part in her husband’s activities, that her sole guilt, in fact, was an excess of piety, and that he alone should perish (ibid., 32). “At once he rushed to fall into his daughter’s arms, who ran to join him, but the lictors intervened and prevented both.” This entire display of familial pietas served to anger Nero, himself a matricide, further and to worsen the fate of the defendants: both the old man and the girl were ordered to take their own lives in a manner of their own choosing (ibid., 33). Even this drama, however, is outshone in the Annales by the heroic end of Thrasea Paetus, an event led up to by a narrative climax. Tacitus first offers his lengthy versions of the speeches given by the prosecution—the two infamous delatores, Cossutianus Capito and Eprius Marcellus. Judging by these, the authorities hoped to emphasize the defendant’s alleged republicanist and Stoic persuasions, so that his secessio, or withdrawal from public activities, could be pictured as a premeditated political act tantamount to conspiracy or revolt. Before any closer analysis of the informers’ arguments, therefore, we must first consider what further information, apart from their naturally biased claims, we possess concerning the republicanist and Stoic constituents in Thrasea Paetus’ attitudes, and whether these allow a portrayal of the man and his circle of friends in coherently “ideological” terms, as his ancient accusers (and some modern apologists) would have it. If we distinguish carefully between allegation and fact, there is little evidence to substantiate Thrasea Paetus’ republicanism. What there is centers largely on his biography of Cato (Plut. Cato Min., 25, 1). Yet, this kind of writing was not unusual for the times, and in itself is insufficient proof of a republicanist commitment. It is true that the figure of Cato could be exploited by dissidents as a symbol of their frustration with the principate, though without implying a serious belief in the preAugustan Republic as a viable alternative. Curiatius Maternus is portrayed at the beginning of Tacitus’ Dialogus as reciting a tragedy entitled Cato offensive to the government of Vespasian (2ff.), but in the end he argues the historical necessity of autocratic rule and denounces the res publica vetus as the reign of licence “which the fools call liberty” (ibid., 40). Positive literary treatments of Cato were clearly, within limits, tolerated by the authorities, and included not only the pose of the Stoic sage, almost divorced from politics, as found in the Senecan corpus, but even such an emphatically politicized presentation as in the second book of Lucan’s epic—although this latter possibly strained Nero’s forbearance. Given Thrasea Paetus’ interest in

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Stoicism, it seems fair to assume that his biography dealt primarily with the moral rather than the political aspects of Cato’s experience. This might explain why at his trial the prosecution abstained from explicitly citing the work as evidence of the defendant’s subversive spirit, preferring merely to insinuate the provocative analogy between Thrasea Paetus himself and the hero of his book. More immediate is Juvenal’s reference to Thrasea Paetus’ and Helvidius Priscus’ reported practice of celebrating, with wine, the birthdays of Cassius and the Bruti (5, 336f.). It is true that veneration of his ancestor’s statue proved detrimental to the great lawyer Cassius Longinus, himself a cautious collaborationist despite his republicanist leanings. But the statue, and even the offensive inscription on it, “To the Party Leader,” served only as convenient pretexts for the lawyer’s impeachment, the real reason having been his relationship with the “dynastic dissident” L.Iunius Silanus Torquatus, in whom Nero feared a potential usurper. Thrasea Paetus, of municipal origin, was under much less compulsion than the aristocratic Cassius Longinus genuinely to feel or act in a republicanist spirit. After all, Juvenal’s reference makes no clearer indication of any allegiance on the part of either Thrasea Paetus or Helvidius Priscus to a cause in the sense implied by Cassius Longinus’ inscription on the statue of the tyrannicide. Rather, it appears that Juvenal’s words, if not a poetic hyperbole, represented a fashionable romantic gesture, not a declaration of a political program. Similar examples abound. Marius Celsus, the paragon of the Imperial “civil servant,” trusted in succession by Nero, Galba, Otho, Vitellius, and Vespasian, praised in public speech the spirit of the last republicanists (Plut. Otho, 13). Later, under Domitian, the prominent equestrian Cn. Octavius Titinius Capito, an associate of the emperor and never suspected of the slightest disloyalty, used to worship the busts of Brutus, Cassius, and Cato (Plin. Epist., 1, 7). A pragmatic politician of some foresight, Thrasea Paetus comprehended the futility of republicanist aspirations after the failure of Camillus Scribonianus’ revolt under Claudius, which had cost the lives of Thrasea’s own parents-in-law, Caecina Paetus and the elder Arria (see p. 31). As for his nostalgic sentiments for the old Republic, displayed on occasion in the pointed mode of a senatorial frondeur, they were clearly marginal to his public career; his serious interests and endeavors lay in the direction of “constitutionalism” and the enhancement, by personal example, of individual and collective dignitas, an integral part of the mos maiorum. The Imperial authorities’ response to Stoicism seems at times to verge on paranoia. Often they insinuated that an intimate link necessarily existed between the Stoics and republicanist beliefs—a view also not uncommon in our day. Though this might be supported by occasional Cato-like phraseology and conduct, it was nonetheless a misconception. Stoicism, after all, was a Greek invention, originating in the Hellenistic kingdoms, which saw monarchy as the best possible form of government. Seneca advocated absolutism in the De Clementia, while taking great pains elsewhere (Epist., 73) to argue that philosophers could never be harmful to the regime in power. The issue centered not on the form but on the conduct of the government, on the moral character of the ruler, on whether he performs as a “king” (basileus, rex iustus) or

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a “tyrant.” Yet, even in the latter case there was room enough for opportunism, owing to Stoic insistence on apatheia (the curtailment of emotions such as anger and hatred), effectively exploited by Seneca in the De Ira, where he argues ultimate compliance in social and political injustice (e.g., 2, 33ff.). Moralistic criticism was, then, the worst threat to the tyrant from Stoic quarters, a far cry from revolutionary propaganda. It is therefore not surprising that, if the emperor managed to meet Stoicism’s requirements for a “just king,” he could himself become, like Marcus Aurelius, its greatest philosophical champion. Although our evidence leaves no doubt of Thrasea Paetus’ adherence to Stoicism, the nature of this involvement was obviously quite different from that of sectarian professionals concerned with orthodoxy and the intricacies of doctrine. Clearly he was under a strong Stoic spell, as is manifest in certain of his sayings (e.g., Dio, 62, 15), in his fascination with Cato, and in the manner of his suicide. Nonetheless, a leading champion of traditional Roman values, he did not see himself as a philosopher, nor was he seen as such by his contemporaries. Everything we know of him shows him to have been a seeker and a pupil, never a master, even on his deathbed. Epictetus cites him only once (compared, for instance, to four mentions of Paconius Agrippinus), in a suggestive passage: Thrasea used to say, “I would rather be killed today than banished tomorrow.” But how did [Musonius] Rufus answer him? “If you prefer death as the heavier misfortune, how foolish a preference! If as the lighter, who has given you your choice? Why not study to be content with what is allotted to you?” (1, 1, 26) From the Stoic viewpoint, Musonius Rufus’ rebuff is wholly justified, and his interlocutor’s anxiety unbecoming: the wise man, vir sapiens, was not expected to grumble at the ordeals sent by implacable Fortune, but to bear them all with equal spirit. But within the perspective of mos maiorum espoused here by Thrasea Paetus, the two ordeals were in no way equal. Death was the ultimate test of one’s fortitudo— fortitude, one of the supreme virtues admired by Romans, while exile, a punishment customarily inflicted upon criminals and enemies of the people, connoted humiliation and was incompatible with dignitas, in terms both of conduct and of status. The fact that Thrasea Paetus had to be reprimanded and reminded of such a basic Stoic principle betrays the idiosyncrasy of his beliefs and a reluctance to absorb wholeheartedly the message of a foreign doctrine. In their own estimate, he and men of his ilk were first Quirites, Romans, and next patres conscripti, senators, with all the attendant characteristics of these notions. Least of all did they think of themselves as thinkers or as experts in any area except possibly statesmanship. Nor were they philosophical writers, even in the limited sense that Seneca was; their literary pursuits focused largely on human characters, not concepts, panegyrizing ancient and more recent martyrs renowned for their traditional mores and ways of life. Stoic philosophy served these men only insofar as it might be manipulated to substantiate and justify,

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when necessary or convenient, their own views and behavior, particularly in those individual aspects of the mos maiorum no longer compatible with what for centuries had been considered societal duty. They were philosophical amateurs at best, the worthier of them dreaming to remain forever examples of rectitude and integrity on the Catonian model. Thrasea Paetus possessed many of the better qualities offered by this historical and psychological type. A Stoic by temperament and inclination, he was by no means an intransigent fanatic, and his lenience in regard to human faults testifies to his striking humanitas, which stretched far beyond what was acceptable to an Epictetus or even to a Seneca. He commanded the loyalty of numerous friends, among them politicians, philosophers, and poets, and was still spoken of with exceptional warmth by members of the following generation. It is nevertheless futile to seek some ultimate consistency in Thrasea Paetus’ behavior. In fact, his attempt to adjust the ideal to the real failed him, leading him to a rejection of reality by way of withdrawing from it, and, by way of extension, even to his suicide. He recognized that any public occupation under tyrannical rule could be interpreted as approval of injustice and thus was incompatible with the common conception of dignity, and he attempted to resolve the exigencies of dissimulatio by choosing political inertia as his new and ethically significant modus vivendi. Yet, his choice was imperfect, painful, and thoroughly personal, tantamount to a betrayal of the ancestral customs integral to his own moral outlook, with their demand of unswerving service to the state. This may in part account for Thrasea Paetus’ advice to his future biographer, Arulenus Rusticus, against following the same route and risking his career, even though this required the dissimulatio inseparable from any official office. Such political secession may seem prima facie not dissimilar to the Christian attitude, not merely in form but also in its moral concern for the individual soul. But in fact the two responses rested on quite differing premises: the one on faith in God; the other on a belief in man’s virtue. For Thrasea Paetus, this belief, enhanced by his traditional view of dignitas, played the role of a Kantian categorical imperative transcending the contradictions of the dissident predicament. The nature of any repressive regime is such that it strives to turn its subjects into accomplices by imposing on them, as a test of loyalty, various mandatory rituals. In the eyes of the authorities, a refusal to comply with these demands automatically signals subversion, so that one’s mere absence in a designated place at a designated time can be taken as proof of animus nocendi. Innocence thus ceases to guarantee one’s security. Furthermore, it is not even one’s motives or intent that matter, but their official interpretation, however perverse. For this reason, if for no other, Nero was bound to find Thrasea Paetus’ secessionist stand an intolerable affront to his conduct of government, his style of life, his artistic tastes and endeavors. In conditions where every gesture or lack thereof is semiotically potent, silence and inertia are easily equated in the minds of both censorious and dissident observers with their opposite— revolutionary propaganda. Both Thrasea Paetus and Nero were concerned with

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existimatio—the senator in terms of his integrity, the emperor in terms of his power. In a simple psychological sense, this placed the two men as far apart as if they inhabited different planets. The depth of their moral antagonism is unwittingly revealed in a remark by Suetonius, who omits the entire juridical sequence so prominent in the Annales (where it takes five chapters (16, 21–2, 27–9)) and mentions no official charge, but, instead, disposes of the matter is a single sentence: Thrasea Paetus, he suggests tellingly, was indicted for his “stern countenance of a schoolmaster” (Nero, 37). Such a pronouncement, implying that even the set of one’s face could reflect upon a dissident’s physical survival, allows a glimpse into the atmosphere of the Imperial court and the deeper recesses of Nero’s own soul, still very much that of an immature adolescent resentful of his teacher. So apprehensive was he of the slightest intimation of moralism, it is little wonder he desired to crush its high-minded dissident champions. The reversal of values is complete: Thrasea Paetus’ valor could not but constitute a crime since his mere existence denied, in the final analysis, that of Nero himself. Not for nothing did Tacitus see fit, perhaps with a touch of envy, to acclaim the man as “virtue incarnate” (Ann., 16, 21). It is probable that Thrasea Paetus’ doom was precipitated by the intrigues of Tigellinus and his son-in-law, Cossutianus Capito. The latter had a personal grudge against him for supporting the Cilician charge of extortion against him back in AD 57 (Ann., 16, 21), and he now launched a vociferous attack on Thrasea Paetus in the Senate with the apparent intent of preparing the ground for official prosecution. Although the details of the interaction between the instigators of the affair remain obscure, the entire scenario seems to have been well thought out, quite likely by Tigellinus. Assuming the posture of an outraged spokesman for the public at large, Cossutianus Capito took his time over a lengthy series of calumniatory effusions. Nero apparently loomed behind the scenes pretending indifference, and for the final onslaught the services were enlisted of the brilliant and unscrupulous T.Clodius Eprius Marcellus, the suffect consul of AD 62. As rendered by Tacitus, both speeches of the prosecution are examples of Imperial propaganda at work. Tacitus’ version of Cossutianus Capito’s preliminary argument is certainly much condensed and seeks to draw a less than flattering picture of the informer. Yet it does not follow that Tacitus misrepresented the argument in essence or even in form: it must have been documented in the Senate’s acts, and many actual witnesses of the proceedings survived to share their recollections, among them Tacitus’ own father-inlaw, Iulius Agricola, who was that year’s tribune and attended the curia ex officio. Of Thrasea Paetus’ four misdemeanors listed earlier by Tacitus himself as the causes of Nero’s particular annoyance (ibid.), the principal one—his démarche in the Senate following Agrippina’s murder—could not possibly be mentioned again in public. The remaining three—his spurning of the Juvenalia, his intervention on behalf of Antistius Sosianus, and his abstention from the vote on Poppaea Sabina’s apotheosis—were played out in masterful rhetoric by the prosecutors, reflecting the nature of the repressive regime, the public mentality of the time, and Nero’s moral or psychological idiosyncrasies.

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In Tacitus’ account, however, Cossutianus Capito begins with a politically deadlier charge and the only one in any way pertaining to the original meaning and strict interpretation of the treason law: “At the beginning of the year Thrasea stayed away from the ceremonial oathtaking, nor did he attend, although a member of the priesthood of quindecemvirs, the presentation of prayers for the prosperity of the nation” (ibid., 22). Juridically speaking, this seems the only point relevant to what could have been regarded as Thrasea Paetus’ corpus delicti. The oath of allegiance had been introduced by Octavian at the end of his triumvirate and, with time, had taken on a legal force in the modified form of annual pledge of loyalty to the ruling emperor and his predecessors on the part of the senators, state officials, and priests. The official ceremony was performed at the beginning of each year—“for the safety of the state” on January 1, and “for the safety of the Princeps” two days later. Further on in his argument the delator indulges in sophistry when he contends that “not to believe in the deified Poppaea was of a piece with not swearing to uphold the acts of the deified Julius and the deified Augustus” (ibid.). This, however, was a deliberate confusion of issues aimed at Nero’s emotionalism: Caesar and Augustus were responsible for much of the present set of laws and constitutional principles that stood in continuous need of corroboration and re-enactment, while Poppaea Sabina’s apotheosis must have seemed, in the view of a person with Thrasea Paetus’ sentiments, an unjustifiable novelty, close to sacrilege. Thus, the delator’s claim, on these grounds, of Thrasea Paetus’ impiety—“he spurns religious observances and rejects the validity of laws” (ibid.)—is maliciously gratuitous. A recurrent theme in Cossutianus Capito’s harangue is the allegedly unpatriotic and ill-intentioned nature of Thrasea Paetus’ secessio: Once assiduous and indefatigable, appearing in person as a supporter or opponent of even trivial senatorial resolutions, he had for three years not set foot in the curia, and preferred, when others were outdoing each other to make common cause against the crimes of Silanus and Vetus, [to attend to] the private affairs of his clients. (Tac. Ann., 16, 22) The emphasis here is placed on the prolonged stand of defiance implied by this conduct, since there was nothing new in itself in a tendency to absent oneself quietly from senatorial business. Yet such behavior appeared particularly provocative against the background of the recent political prosecutions, when even the lack of an enthusiastic response equaled subversiveness. Thrasea Paetus’ choice of activities at that fateful moment—an intervention on behalf of his dependants—added an ulterior significance: time-honored tradition held a patron’s support of his clients to be his primary duty, so that by his observance of this custom Thrasea Paetus accentuated both his humanitas and his commitment to the mos maiorum. Finally, the emphasis on his clients signaled still further political danger potentially coming from a devoted and well-maintained clientele.

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The point is further sharpened by Cossutianus Capito’s combining his own flattery with his insinuation of Thrasea Paetus’ hostile attitude to the emperor: “He had never sacrificed for the Emperor’s welfare or for his celestial voice” (ibid.; cf. Dio, 62, 26, 3). This is reinforced a few lines later: “To him alone is your safety an object of indifference, and your artistry of scorn.” Some outward sign, a libation to the emperor or a sacrifice for his welfare, seems with time to have become, judging by inscriptions and literary evidence (cf., e.g., Petr. Sat., 60), a matter of propriety and routine, and since his welfare symbolized that of the state, this had acquired a certain legitimacy in regard to politics and religion. The “celestial voice,” however, even if it did belong to the “artistic tyrant,” was something quite different. From the point of view of the mos maiorum, to turn this into an object of religious worship was little short of blasphemy. The demand for a show of loyalty to the “tyranny of art” must have been the last straw for the traditionalist senator, to whom even compliance with tyranny in politics amounted to slavery and humiliation. The reference to the “celestial voice” and the Imperial arts was intended by Cossutianus Capito as an allusion to Thrasea Paetus’ cool response to the Juvenalia. Thrasea Paetus’ actual choice of conduct at this point seems as calculated as when he chose to honor his duty towards his clients instead of attending the disgraceful proceedings in the curia against his venerable senatorial colleagues. We know from Tacitus’ earlier mention that he did not disdain to perform in tragic costume himself during the sacred festival of his native city Patavium instituted by the legendary Antenor (Ann., 26, 21). Far from being an act of self-indulgence, however, this performance was yet another pointed gesture of respect for the ancient practices, signaling the message that there is a line to be drawn between what Thrasea Paetus considered proper behavior for a Roman senator (not to mention a Roman emperor) and the behavior appropriate to a Greek actor. Such a performance, which Nero was bound to interpret as a personal as well as political rebuff, can only have added to Thrasea Paetus’ perils. Cossutianus Capito’s argument reaches its climax in an explosive and deftly orchestrated blend of political, philosophical, and moral innuendoes leveled against his victim. The emperor, who may or may not have been present in the curia at the moment, is addressed directly: Already this constitutes secession and faction and, if many should dare to do the same, war…. As once this country, eager for discord, talked about C.Caesar and M.Cato, now it is you, Nero, and Thrasea. And he has his partisans, or rather, his satellites, who adopt not only the contumacity of his opinions, but even his manner and countenance, rigid and stern, to disapprove thereby your lasciviousness. (ibid., 22) In fact, there was nothing new in this sophistic attempt to identify traditional morals, philosophical interests, and political republicanism and merge them into one

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subversive whole. A similar tactic was earlier employed in regard to Rubellius Plautus. Cossutianus Capito goes further, however, attempting to link firmly the issue of Stoicism to Thrasea Paetus’ alleged republicanism: “This sect spawned men like Tubero and Favonius, names unfavored even by the old res publica. To subvert the Empire, they extol liberty; if they succeed, they will attack liberty as well” (ibid.). Considered soberly, the allegation is thoroughly contrived. Even in earlier times republicanist intransigence did not always coincide with Stoic interests: Marcus Brutus, after all, had been an Academic, while Cassius the tyrannicide was an Epicurean. Nor is there any evidence that the great lawyer Cassius Longinus, the clearest Neronian case of a champion of the republicanist tradition, held Stoic philosophical beliefs. But certainly there were less cultured men in Cossutianus Capito’s audience, among them even committed Roman traditionalists, who regarded philosophy as alien and looked unkindly on philosophers in general. It was on the sentiments of such men that the informer most sought to play. Yet at the same time, the idiomatic reference to the pre-Augustan Republic as res publica vetus generated a peculiar double entendre. The speaker, on the one hand, was a renowned delator, a staunch and ruthless supporter of the regime. As such, he would be expected to imply a negative connotation in the phrase, which could then be read roughly to say that, even under that imperfect form of government, people of Thrasea Paetus’ ilk were a nuisance. On the other hand, it must have been clear that a number of secret, if ineffectual, republicanist sympathizers were still present in the audience and that they would see in the res publica vetus something commendable, a state of affairs superior to the present. In this light, Cossutianus Capito’s message could be roughly translated as saying that, even under that admirable form of government, people of Thrasea Paetus’ bent were a nuisance. If the passage is genuine and not a clever Tacitean rendering of the original text, this ambiguity could have been either preserved or resolved in actual oral delivery. Everything would depend on intonation, accent, and emphasis. A dispassionate performance, however, might have allowed the same spectrum of potential interpretations as the written account. Meanwhile, the comparison of the conflict between Nero and Thrasea Paetus with that between Caesar and Cato, two armed political and military leaders—a comparison suggested by Thrasea Paetus’ biography of Cato—not only exaggerates the secessionist senator’s marginal republicanism, portraying it as a source of subversion, but lays the grounds for an even more extravagant pronouncement: The Roman people’s daily gazette is being read with concern in the provinces and in the legions, just to learn what Thrasea has done! We should either adopt the changes he proposes, if they are preferable, or see to it that the fomenters of revolution are deprived of their leader and instigator (Tac. Ann., 26, 22)

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This was a bold move, potentially offensive to Nero as well, and aimed at driving the emperor further into paranoia, though the ambiguity of equating his reign with the time of civil strife no doubt was too subtle for him to grasp. The attack then ended, in crescendo, with this rhetorical warning: “And you removed a Cassius in vain if you allow these emulators of the Bruti to prosper and shine!” (ibid.). Thus were Thrasea Paetus’ recognizable “non-actions” transformed, by rhetoric and imaginative sophistry, into revolutionary activities threatening national upheaval. VI The campaign launched against Thrasea Paetus coincided with the impending visit to Rome of Tiridates I, the newly installed King of Armenia, who was required to pledge nominal vassalage to Nero under the terms of the recent Roman treaty with Parthia. The emperor proceeded with much pomp to meet Tiridates in Naples, and Tacitus alleges that the timing of the dissident trial was deliberate, even if for contradictory reasons—“in order to have domestic crime overshadowed by popular rumor about what was going on abroad, or to make a show of the Emperor’s power through the murder of illustrious men as if he were some royal potentate” (Ann., 16, 23). Be that as it may, Thrasea Paetus was prohibited from attending the king and the emperor upon their arrival (ibid., 24), which signified an official renewal of Nero’s “renunciation of friendship” with him. Earlier, Thrasea Paetus had been banned from the funeral of Nero’s infant daughter, but that had been essentially a private affair; Thrasea Paetus may even have been relieved not to have had to go through the inevitable embarrassment of yet another trial of his meager remaining powers of dissimulatio. This time was different: he suffered a public rebuff that undermined his dignitas not only as a private individual, but also as a member of the Senate still formally treated by the princeps as a sovereign partner in the government. It was both his right and his duty to be present on this important state occasion, in accordance with his professed views on senatorial prerogatives, and these or similar considerations prompted him to send a letter to Nero demanding an explanation and the legal opportunity to rebut whatever charges were being whispered against him and to defend his honor. From a tactical viewpoint, this may have been an error, but Thrasea Paetus by now clearly foresaw the inevitability of his own doom and was at the end of his mental defenses, caring no longer for such things as tactics or strategy, but only for the preservation of his own integrity. Whether Nero’s ploy was intentional or not, it succeeded: he seized upon Thrasea Paetus’ letter as a pretext for convening the senatorial court (ibid.), and could even claim that proceedings had been initiated at the defendant’s own request. In his portrayal of Thrasea Paetus’ last days Tacitus used material belonging to Stoic hagiography, but based on personal recollections. We hear of the council Thrasea Paetus held with his close friends upon receiving the court summons. Characteristically, no one volunteered to act officially as his defense counsel; instead they engaged in a debate over whether it would be better for him to defend himself

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publicly or simply to ignore the summons for the time. Some among his associates, we are told, insisted that he appear at the curia as a gesture of fortitudo and of his contempt of death—this would make his glory immortal: “Let the Senate hear his voice as if it were the voice of divinity, greater than human” (ibid.). What their argument amounted to, in fact, was an exhortation to overcome the paralysis of will that was so familiar a feature of dissident conduct, and to act, instead of being acted upon, in the final moment. They went so far as to suggest that even Nero, faced with the defendant’s strength of character, might be moved to change his mind. But even if he should not and if he should persist in his cruelty, “the death of an honorable man will be clearly distinguished in the memory of posterity, from the spinelessness of those who perished in silence” (ibid.). Compliance with Nero’s summons, however, would have broken Thrasea Paetus’ pattern of secessio. Ultimately, it would have meant his own complicity in the injustice perpetrated against him. Those friends advocating his disobedience to the Imperial command (ibid., 26) argued that he risked being met in the curia with mockery and humiliation, or possibly even with physical violence, for even the better of his colleagues would be driven by fear. It was foolish, they said, to believe that his show of virtue might influence Nero for the better, while a public confrontation with the emperor could endanger the members of his family. Furthermore, his absence from the trial would save many of his colleagues from much embarrassment: Better for him to spare the Senate, whose ornament he has always been, the infamy of so great a crime, and leave it uncertain what the senators’ verdict would have been had he been actually seen there speaking in his own defense. (ibid.) Given his professed concern for collective, no less than individual, senatorial dignitas, this particular point may have proved crucial in Thrasea Paetus’ own view. He decided against a public spectacle detrimental to his peers’ self-esteem. As mentioned earlier, Thrasea Paetus took the opportunity to emphasize that his was a personal stand, not a party line. He declined an offer from a “young and ardent” friend “eager for praise,” Q.Iunius Arulenus Rusticus, to exercise the power of the people’s tribune and veto the expected verdict of the Senate. Even though technically still a prerogative of his office, such a gesture would, under the circumstances, be indeed quixotic. We read that “Thrasea kept his [Rusticus’] zeal in check so that he would not embark on a fruitless effort that would be no help to the defendant and ruinous to the intercessor,” and in a moving peroration suggested that “his own time was played out, and the principle of life he followed steadily for so many years must not be abandoned, while the other man was only at the beginning of his career, and his future was unprejudiced” (ibid.). And he added the advice that the young man should ponder carefully his future before making the choice of a public career in times like theirs. The advice seems to imply either an abstention from politics or an acquiescence in the need for dissimulatio. To his eventual ruin, Arulenus Rusticus chose neither. Distinguishing himself as a

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negotiator during the civil war and a champion of senatorial rights in its aftermath (cf. Tac. Hist., 3, 80), he served as praetor in AD 69 and suffect consul in AD 92, all the while staunchly holding to his Stoic beliefs (cf. Plin. Epist., 1, 5; 1, 14; Plut. De sera num. vind., 522 E), and eventually writing an encomiastic biography of his martyred friend that so provoked the wrath of Domitian as to cost him his life in AD 93 (Tac. Agr., 2; Dio, 67, 13, 2; Suet. Dom., 10). Admired but not much imitated, Thrasea Paetus hardly possessed a following in the modern sense. There was little eagerness among his associates to follow his path of secessio from public life as a pointed political démarche; rather, on the contrary, with time some of them became increasingly militant in their political involvements. Yet despite the psychological degradation of the majority of senators, he enjoyed considerable influence within the walls of the curia. What is more, he evoked the sympathies of a substantial portion of the city’s inhabitants, and this accounts for the precautionary measures taken by the emperor on the day of the trial, which resembled those adopted in earlier moments of crisis—including the execution of Pedanius Secundus’ slaves, the popular disturbance in support of Octavia, and the exposure of the Pisonian conspiracy. Nero ordered the court to be surrounded by two praetorian cohorts, by armed agents in civilian dress, and by companies of soldiers to be stationed at the Forums (Tac. Ann., 16, 27). In addition to concerns for security, such measures were clearly also aimed at the intimidation of the Senate. Earlier, in the course of his anti-Thrasean campaign, Cossutianus Capito had urged the emperor not to intervene but to leave the “arbitration” to the Senate (ibid., 22). One may only speculate on the delator’s motive, whether he advised the emperor as he did because of self-confidence, hypocrisy, or any other conceit. Nero consented, possibly to avoid personal confrontation with the accused (cf. ibid., 24) and absented himself from the proceedings, leaving them to be conducted by the consuls. Instead, he wrote a rescript-like letter without mention of any name (ibid., 27). This letter, read out by his quaestor, charged the senators en masse with desertion of their public duties and so setting an example of indolence for the equestrians. It goes without saying that Nero was immune to the irony of the situation: he castigated senatorial absenteeism while, as can be inferred from our sources, his own practices as regards attendance of the Senate’s meetings were little better. It was transparent, however, that the implications of Nero’s message were primarily intended to hit Thrasea Paetus and proved, as Tacitus tells us, “a weapon which the accusers seized.” Officially, Thrasea Paetus and his three associates—Helvidius Priscus, Paconius Agrippinus, and Curtius Montanus—were indicted on the charge of maiestas. It is worth noting that at no point was any attempt made to implicate them in a plot against the government, Pisonian or other—which at any rate would have been hardly possible given Thrasea Paetus’ own initiative in requesting an investigation. At the outset of the trial, Cossutianus Capito presumably summarized his earlier invectives (Tac. Ann., 16, 28). To prove the guilt of the chief defendant, the prosecution had to exploit to the fullest those few aspects of his secessio, such as his avoidance of the religious vows or of the oath supporting Imperial acts, that could be construed as

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politically offensive—to contend, in other words, that inaction amounted to action. The absence of further material or circumstantial evidence against the defendants made it inevitable that the emphasis was placed, in the most speculative manner, on their allegedly evil motives. In an effort to surpass even his predecessor, the “mordantly eloquent” (ibid., 22) Eprius Marcellus propelled his audience—if one trusts Tacitus’ version of his speech—in media res, rhetorically claiming that supreme interests of the state were at issue. Those listening must have been taken rather by surprise to realize that the issue was, so to speak, “apophatic,” or negatively defined, and related to the defendant’s absence rather than his presence: I demand him to be present in the Senate as an ex-consul, at the official prayers as a priest, in the swearing of oaths as a citizen, unless he openly turned a traitor and a public enemy, defying the institutions and rituals of our ancestors. (ibid.) What is here implied as a conditional clause is later inconspicuously actualized into straightforward indicative: “In his eyes, it seems, there were no senatorial resolutions now, no magistracies, no city of Rome” (ibid.). The rhetoricized mentality of the period allowed such a somersault of logic, the reversal of values and realities, to pass with impunity: the delator’s innuendoes succeeded in portraying the exact opposite of what there actually was: the moralist conservative found himself denounced for radical nihilism by a ruthless opportunist posing as a champion of civic virtue. At the climax of his attack Eprius Marcellus resorted to no less extravagant rhetorical provocation: So let him, accustomed as he was to be playing the role of senator while at the same time protecting the Emperor’s detractors, come and say what he wishes altered or amended; all would prefer to bear his carping at individual measures than his present condemnation of everything by silence. (ibid.) The reference to the protection of the emperor’s detractors no doubt meant the affair of Antistius Sosianus. The allusion is particularly striking in light of the fact that Antistius Sosianus, who had publicly recited libellous verses against Nero, had his life spared, while Thrasea Paetus was found guilty of a silence considered obnoxious enough to constitute a capital charge. To comprehend the enormity of this, one must envisage an ambience so peculiar as to endow silence with greater semantic power than the spoken word. As for the motives behind the alleged misdeeds, the defendant’s animus nocendi, “subversive intent,” is postulated in terms of sheer perversity, if not madness: Was he displeased with the world’s peace and victories won without loss to the armies? They should not satisfy the depraved ambition of a man for whom

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public prosperity was a cause for grief, forums, theaters and temples a wasteland; and who employed self-imposed exile as a threat. (ibid.) This shrewd blend of truth, half-truth, and outright untruth, at once dramatized and trivialized, finally explodes in an ambiguous cry construable as a demand either for Thrasea Paetus’ banishment or for his death. It was an ironically pathetic aspect of the situation that in all practical terms this display of rhetorical virtuosity by Eprius Marcellus was superfluous, as, in fact, was the entire show of legal proceedings. It was a performance for the sake of performance, reflecting the delusory nature of public life in the period. Thrasea Paetus’ fate had been decided well in advance, with steps then taken to ensure a pretense of senatorial approval. Tacitus leaves no doubt of this in his description of the atmosphere within the curia: “The gloom of the senators was not the familiar one to which the frequency of perils had accustomed them; rather they experienced a new and deeper fear when they saw the poised weapons in the hands of the soldiers” (ibid., 29). Thrasea Paetus’ co-defendants, his son-in-law Helvidius Priscus and his two friends Paconius Agrippinus and Curtius Montanus, referred to contemptuously by Cossutianus Capito as Thrasea Paetus’ “partisans, or rather, satellites,” were the most prominent but not the only members of the group known as “Thrasea’s circle.” Of the few other names, one recalls the satirist Persius, by now dead, the future biographer young Arulenus Rusticus, and, possibly, Annaeus Cornutus. We hear of yet another close family friend, T.Avidius Quietus, who shared with the younger Pliny intimate reminiscences of Thrasea Paetus’ sayings and opinions (Epist., 6, 29; 9, 13, 15, 17). A good acquaintance of Plutarch (De frat. am., 1; Quaest. conv., 2, 1, 5), Avidius Quietus reached the proconsulship of Achaia and suffect consulship (AD 93) under Domitian, manifesting thus both his capacity for, and the vagaries of, survival. The available evidence suggests quite distinct private and public temperaments among these men, none of them exhibiting their leader’s remarkable humanitas and toleration of human faults. They seem to have shared an interest in Stoic philosophy and dissident sentiments of various descriptions, though each found his own mode of adjustment to reality. But, as mentioned earlier, no common charge was brought against the four men on trial, which refutes any suspicion of a possible conspiracy. We are told that C.Helvidius Priscus was accused of “the same madness” (Tac. Ann., 16, 28) as his father-in-law, that is, an implausible mixture of secession and factional strife. This is almost certainly an intentional hyperbole, although Helvidius Priscus’ political eclipse between his tribunate of AD 56 and his praetorship in AD 70 may have been partly due to Thrasea Paetus’ influence that moved the younger man to abstain, despite his hot temper, from a more active public role. Tacitus, on the other hand, suggests that many believed the only cause of Helvidius Priscus’ misfortune to have been his undesirable family link with the chief defendant (ibid., 29)—a familiar predicament. He was of lesser origin than Thrasea Paetus, coming from the family of a senior centurion and born in the Samnite town of Cluviae (Tac. Hist., 4, 5). Helvidius

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Priscus held merely the post of quaestor in the province of Achaia (Schol. ad Juv., 5, 36) when Thrasea Paetus selected him as son-in-law, on the grounds, one may assume, of his moral valor. (It may not have been an accident that the notorious procurator P.Celer was, as it seems, assigned to accompany him there, very likely in the capacity of a watchdog—the very man who was instrumental to Agrippina in disposing of M.Iunius Silanus and whom Nero later saved, by procrastination, from trial on the charge of extortions.) His vigor became manifest during the year of his tribunate, AD 56, when he prosecuted Obultronius Sabinus, the quaestor in charge of the treasury, for extorting the poor, thus making clear his taste for public life. Although we are told by Tacitus in the Historiae that Helvidius Priscus absorbed Thrasea Paetus’ spiritual independence (4, 5), this does not imply that the two were in constant agreement. Helvidius Priscus’ subsequent activities made it clear that Thrasea Paetus’ tactic of secessio appealed little to his son-in-law’s impetuous character. It is telling that Tacitus’ only censure of his otherwise admirable character refers to the occasional resentment he caused by his love of ostentation, a love bordering on vainglory (ibid., 6); this charge in itself speaks against any true secessionist tendencies on his part. Moreover, his commitment to political activities is further emphasized by the remark that, although he possessed remarkable talents for higher disciplines, he did not use them in the manner of many of his peers—“not, in the usual fashion, in order to conceal idle leisure under a high-sounding name,” but so that he could “hold a steadier course in his public career amid the uncertainties of chance” (ibid.). This point inadvertently illuminates the nature and purpose of his staunch adherence to Stoicism, a philosophic principle seen by him, as by most of his contemporaries, as a repository for practical wisdom rather than as a blueprint for metaphysical speculation. Helvidius Priscus’ presence at Thrasea Paetus’ side to witness his suicide was a reenactment of the latter’s own earlier role at the deathbed of his parents-in-law, Caecina Paetus and the elder Arria. Thus the family tradition was fortified, and the heritage of the great man secured for posterity. Sentenced to exile in Apollonia (Schol. ad Juv., 5, 36) by the same court that condemned his father-in-law, he would return after Nero was deposed and immediately throw himself back into political life. We hear that he sought and received Otho’s authorization to bury the body of the murdered Galba (Plut. Gal., 28) and championed the rights of the Senate to the point of personal confrontation, as a praetorelect, with emperor Vitellius (Tac. Hist. 2, 91). Twice, under Galba and Vespasian, he vigorously sought the impeachment of Thrasea Paetus’ destroyer, Eprius Marcellus, both times failing. It is not impossible that it was this failure to render pietas and avenge his father-in-law that embittered Helvidius Priscus to the point where he assumed the unique posture of a conservative radical who refused any compromise whatsoever with Imperial reality and, far from withdrawing from it in the manner of his illustrious relative, became increasingly vociferous and ended by being put to death by Vespasian, who had previously presented himself as a relatively tolerant ruler (Dio, 66, 12; Suet. Div. Vesp., 15).

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The charge against Q.Paconius Agrippinus, who had served for two years under Claudius as governor of Crete and Cyrene (CIG 2570; cf. Epict. fr. 22), is said to have been, apparently for lack of any more tangible proof of treason, that he had inherited “his father’s hatred of the emperors” (Tac. Ann., 16, 28), his father M.Paconius having been one of Tiberius’ victims (cf. ibid., 29), possibly in the aftermath of Sejanus’ plot (Suet. Tib., 61). Much has been made of this expression by modern scholars, who argue that the hereditary nature of the opposition was largely responsible for the Imperial terror. But such an interpretation is not supported by the figure of Paconius Agrippinus. Of Thrasea Paetus’ entire set, Paconius Agrippinus alone is portrayed by contemporary Greek tradition as capable of true Stoic autarkeia. Epictetus often cites him as a source of great moral authority and describes him in panegyrical terms: Although he was a man of the very highest worth, he never praised himself, but used to blush even if someone else praised him. His character was such… that when any hardship befell him he would compose a eulogy upon it; on a fever, if he had a fever; on disrepute, if he suffered from disrepute; on exile, if he went into exile. (fr. 21) This last point comes clear from the delightful anecdote of his response to the sentence pronounced on him by the Senate, which is in marked contrast to Thrasea Paetus’ earlier anguish at the mere thought of exile: Word was brought to him: “Your case is pending in the Senate.” “Good luck attend it. But it is eleven o’clock” (the hour when he used to exercise before bathing) “let us go to our exercise.” This being over, a messenger tells, “You are condemned.” “To banishment,” says he, “or to death?” “To banishment.” “What of my estate?” “It is not taken away.” “Well, then, let us go as far as Aricia [the first station on the road to banishment (V.R.)] and dine there.” (Epict. 1, 1) It seems most unlikely that so imperturbable an individual could ever have been moved to political adventure by hatred, hereditary or not, or indeed by any other reason. Exile, in fact, may arguably have been even welcome to him, removing the last vestiges of a need for dissimulatio. In contrast, Curtius Montanus sprang from an apparently collaborationist family. He is said to have received his eventual pardon out of consideration for his father, with the provision that he discontinue his public career (Tac. Ann., 16, 33)—a dissident pattern not unknown even in modern times, when the younger generation of the establishment revolts out of disapproval of their parents’ ways. Curtius Montanus’ guilt, as officially stated, consisted in his composition of “detestable verses” (ibid., 28). The precise nature of these verses is unknown, but the circumstances of the case

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suggest, despite Tacitus’ partisan innuendo to the contrary (cf. ibid., 29), that they may have offered a veiled satire of court life similar to those produced by earlier targets of Imperial censorship, Lucan and Antistius Sosianus. So much, then, for Nero’s presumed toleration of libel. On the other hand, this provides further evidence of his jealousy of another’s talent. Despite the ban on his political activities, Curtius Montanus appears to have resurfaced after Nero’s death, for it was in all likelihood he, rather than his homonymous father, who played a visible role in the senatorial turmoil that quickly ended the early Vespasian “thaw” (Tac. Hist., 4, 40ff.). Whatever the character and variety of the charges against the four defendants, all of them would have been covered by the maiestas law, application of which under the rule of terror was, as is well documented, both broad and highly arbitrary, extending to activities that ranged from open revolt to secret dreams at night. The consul’s quaestor was dispatched that day towards evening to Thrasea in his gardens, where a reception for an illustrious assemblage of men and women had been in progress. Thrasea’s attention was most engaged by Demetrius, a teacher of Cynic doctrine, the subject of their talk being—so far as could be judged from their expression and words heard in louder moments—an inquiry into the nature of the human spirit and dissociation of body and soul. (Tac. Ann., 16, 34) Informed of the death sentence, “amidst the cries and laments of those present, Thrasea urged his guests to depart quickly and not incur the risk of linking their own perils with the lot of one already condemned” (ibid.). He dissuaded his wife, the younger [Caecina] Arria, from following the example of her mother, who had made a suicide pact with her condemned husband. Their daughter Fannia, he told her, must not be deprived of mother as well as father. Both women were to live long lives, though they suffered numerous private and public tribulations, the daughter losing both her husband and stepson to the tyranny, and herself enduring three terms of exile, the last shared by her mother. Only under Nerva would the two return finally to Rome, where they died. The last extant chapters of the Annales are among the finest pages of Latin prose. We are moved as we witness the further signs of Thrasea Paetus’ humanitas at the very moment of his grand political martyrdom: his concern for family and friends, his joy at the news that the life of his son-in-law had been spared (ibid., 35), and his final address to the young, unnamed magistrate sent to officiate at his suicide. He may have procrastinated in good faith in his quest to reconcile his own concept of virtue with the realities of life, but in the end he had come to realize that, given the social and political climate of the times, such a reconciliation was unattainable without embarking on a path that inevitably led to death. Death was therefore the ultimate and complete adjustment, sanctified by ancestral custom and foreign wisdom, the perfect transcendence of dissimulatio.

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One would expect the suicide of such a man to be exemplary, and so it was. In accord with the compelling force of precedent felt by both Greek intellectuals and Roman nobles, Thrasea Paetus’ death echoed those of Socrates and Cato before him, though lacking the theatricality palpable in Seneca’s final moments. Thrasea Paetus’ last chosen interlocutor, the philosopher Demetrius, was an interesting if enigmatic character, a cross between a fashionable professor with upper-class connections and a street troublemaker. That Demetrius practiced the Cynic rather than the Stoic creed, yet was preferred by Thrasea Paetus to any other, is evidence that theirs was not a sectarian affinity, but a personal one. Upon receiving the senatorial decree, Thrasea withdrew with Helvidius and Demetrius to his chamber, and offered the veins of both arms to be cut, and, as the blood began to flow, he sprinkled it on the ground and bade the quaestor come nearer. “Let us make a libation,” said he, “to Jupiter the Liberator. And observe, young man, as I do so, and may the gods avert the evil omen, but you are born into times which make it expedient to strengthen the soul with examples of constancy.” And then, since his end proved slow and excruciatingly painful, he turned to Demetrius… (Tac. Ann., 16, 34) We will never know what his last words were, Tacitus’ extant text ending tantalizingly in mid-sentence. But in our own troubled times, when the foundations of human values are commonly questioned, we would do well to recognize the truth stated by this Imperial Roman moralist. Thrasea Paetus’ own exemplum was never forgotten, and there now stands in his native city of Padua a modern monument in his imagined likeness. More important, his choice of an existential stand made, in the long run, a profound impact on government and opposition alike. Within the next two generations “constitutionalist” sentiments of the kind Thrasea Paetus had championed were expressed with still greater force and pungency by the two Helvidii Prisci, father and son, and by their followers. Though they were all destroyed by a new wave of repression, their labors bore fruit in turn, and ultimately their chief demands were met: for most of the next century the reign of terror ceased, and the Senate received the Imperial assurance of respect for its dignitas as well as the more practical one of greater partnership in the affairs of state.

5 THE YEARS OF DECIMATION: II

I The trials of Barea Soranus and Thrasea Paetus were clearly intended by Nero to strike a fatal blow against l’opposition morale. Not surprising, then, were the great sums of money heaped upon the prosecutors: Ostorius Sabinus—a mere equestrian— receiving one million, two hundred thousand sesterces and quaestorian decorations, which was an affront to senatorial sensibilities, and Cossutianus Capito and Eprius Marcellus five million sesterces each (Tac. Ann., 16, 33)—five times as much as was needed for senatorial census. About Ostorius Sabinus and Cossutianus Capito we hear nothing more. As for Eprius Marcellus, he survived Nero and, despite the persistent efforts of his enemies to have him impeached, amassed considerable influence under his successors, only to perish in an enigmatic plot against Vespasian. Although it belongs to post-Neronian times, several episodes of Eprius Marcellus’ subsequent career must be dealt with here, since they elucidate the precarious status of the delatores, who were engaged in the destruction of their peers either for profit or in the pursuit of personal feuds—to demonstrate the dissimulatio they had to practice and their awareness of it. Eprius Marcellus was endangered immediately after Nero’s overthrow, when several of the former emperor’s minor henchmen were lynched by the mob (Plut. Gal., 8) and the influential collaborationist Petronius Turpilianus was executed by Galba without trial. Helvidius Priscus, upon his return from exile, proceeded with formal charges against Eprius Marcellus (Tac. Hist., 4, 6) and some kind of altercation took place between the two (ibid.). However “important and just” in Tacitus’ opinion, this accusation divided the Senate, being seen by the pauci et validi as directed at them all—since “if Marcellus fell, the host of the guilty would be ruined.” To their relief, Galba hesitated to support the move, and Helvidius Priscus realized that the time was not right. Lacking the support of the emperor and pressured by many of his colleagues (ibid.) he backed down, and, Tacitus tells us, “gossip varying with men’s different characters, either his moderation was praised or his constancy found wanting.” There was also a curious episode in the aftermath of Otho’s defeat when Eprius Marcellus was charged in the Senate by one Licinius Caecina with, as Tacitus puts it,

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“speaking ambiguities” (ibid., 2, 53). The phrasing is splendidly characteristic of the times, subtly alluding to the role of dissimulatio, but it remains unclear what exactly it means in this context, and whether it necessarily implied dissidence on the part of the accuser or the accused, remains unclear. Tacitus’ comment is not very helpful: he suggests that the odium generated by Eprius Marcellus’ name prompted his attacker, a homo novuls, to seek renown, as it was a practice in the days of the old Republic, by “making enemies among the great.” The rest of the senators, however, kept silence and the affair came to naught (ibid.). Late in AD 69, when Vespasian had firmly established himself in power, he sent his formidable ally C.Licinius Mucianus with his own younger son, Domitian Caesar, to Rome as his delegate plenipotentiary. There was a delicate situation to handle: upon the return of the Neronian exiles, the henchmen had to coexist in the Senate with their victims, hatreds ran high, and the multi bonique, hoping for a “thaw,” launched a large-scale campaign against the delatores. The impetus was provided by Musonius Rufus, recently recalled from exile, who announced his intention to prosecute his fellow Stoic P.Egnatius Celer for giving false testimony at Barea Soranus’ trial (ibid., 10). Both the target and the timing were well chosen: Vespasian was known as a friend of Thrasea Paetus (ibid., 7) and a one-time relative of Barea Soranus. After some delay, the case was heard and the defendant, who is said to have behaved miserably in court, was duly condemned in January AD 70 to exile (ibid., 40). Licinius Mucianus probably allowed this verdict to pass for a variety of reasons: to appease senatorial anger and anxiety, to test the general mood within the walls of the curia, and to do a service to the new emperor by avenging his friend and former kinsman. It appears that Musonius Rufus performed admirably, although it must have caused him considerable embarrassment to confront as Egnatius Celer’s defense counsel his own philosophical colleague, the famed and upright Cynic Demetrius, chosen earlier by Thrasea Paetus as the companion of his final moments. Whether or not the motive for Demetrius’ peculiar stand was due to some sort of dissimulatio remains a minor puzzle. Tacitus seems himself in the dark with his vague reference to things “more ambitious than honest” (ibid.), and modern conjectures (including a sectarian rivalry between the two professors) fail to convince. But Egnatius Celer was small fry, and the organizers of the campaign were after bigger fish. Tacitus makes this clear, saying: “In fact, it was not really Musonius or Publius [Celer], but rather Priscus [Helvidius] and Marcellus and the rest who were expected [to act] with minds set on vengeance” (Tac. Hist., 4, 10). By this time, however, Eprius Marcellus stood on firmer ground than he had under Galba, and his personal links with Vespasian went back quite far through his association with Vespasian’s elder brother, T.Flavius Sabinus. This elucidates Eprius Marcellus’ confrontation with Helvidius Priscus shortly before the scandal with Egnatius Celer. At the very meeting at which the Senate voted supreme power to Vespasian, a quarrel arose over the composition of the official embassy to greet the new emperor. Helvidius Priscus demanded that the members of the delegation be appointed individually by the magistrates under oath (ibid., 6), while Eprius Marcellus supported

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the consular proposal that they be selected by lot (ibid.). Tacitus informs us of Eprius Marcellus’ vested interest in the matter: he feared diminutio dignitatis, that is, to have his dignity—and authority—diminished if he was not chosen in an open nomination, whereas a lottery would secure him from any personal slight (ibid., 7). No less a factor in his anxiety must have been a desire to publicize and further his relationship with the new regime. It is on this occasion, in the course of his exchange with Helvidius Priscus, that Eprius Marcellus, according to Tacitus (ibid.), expressed his credo with remarkable, and cynical, frankness, inadvertently betraying the dynamics of his opportunistic conscience and the ambivalence of his dissimulatio as a means of psychological accommodation. The tactic Helvidius Priscus chose makes it clear that he firmly relied on the approval of the majority and is indicative of the atmosphere in the curia at that moment. While conceding his enemy’s superiority to many in wealth and talents, he denounced Eprius Marcellus, predictably, for criminal practices aimed at the judicial murder of innocent lives. Then, in the spirit of Thrasea Paetus’ “theory of small deeds,” he argued the moral and political expediency of the nominating procedure he advocated: one does not differentiate in regard to moral character by the lot or urn: votes and opinions of the Senate were invented with an intent to penetrate into one’s life and reputation. It pertains to the benefit of the state as well as to Vespasian’s honor, that those meet him whom the Senate deems most innocent [of any blame] so that they may imbue the Emperor’s ears with honest speech…. By this judgment of the Senate, the Princeps will, as it were, be advised whom he should approve and of whom he should be wary. There is no greater instrument for good rule than [possession] of good friends. (ibid.) Citing Vespasian’s early friendship with Barea Soranus and Thrasea Paetus, Helvidius Priscus may have been implicitly proposing a “constitutionalist” program to the new government. At the same time he alluded to the subordinate condition of the Imperial senators, but by means of a tactful innuendo designed to incite their wrath rather than hurt their feelings—“Even if it is not proper to punish [their] informers, we are not obliged to make a show of them”—and sarcastically advised his opponent to enjoy his awards and impunity, and leave Vespasian to “better men” (ibid.). Eprius Marcellus is portrayed as starting with the formal rejoinder that the proposal was not his but the consul designate’s, and that it was based on ancient precedent (ibid., 8). (This was familiar: a radical immoralist in his public conduct, Eprius Marcellus impertinently styled himself a defender of ancestral customs even at the expense of Thrasea Paetus, a true traditionalist and conservative.) Nothing had happened to make ancestral institutions obsolete, so that the honor due to the emperor should become someone else’s insult. It is rather the turbulence of certain individuals (read: Helvidius Priscus and his ilk) that should be feared—such men must avoid

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irritating the new emperor who, still unfamiliar with his duties, will be “attentive to every glance and every word” (ibid.). At this point Eprius Marcellus indulges in an extraordinary blend of confession. “He certainly remembered the times in which he was born,” runs Tacitus’ paraphrase, and the form of government established by their fathers and grand-fathers. These past things he admired, but those of the present, he followed; he prayed that the Emperors be good, but tolerated whatever they were. As for Thrasea, he was no more destroyed by his speech than by the decision of the Senate; Nero’s cruelty had mocked them with pretenses of this sort, and friendship with him caused no less anxiety than exile to others. Let Helvidius be measured up to the Catones and the Bruti in constancy and fortitude: he was one of the many of this Senate who was a slave like the others. (Hist., 4, 8) Eprius Marcellus’ rejection of the past, characteristic of the delatores, is here far from simple and unambiguous. His argument, prima facie justifying presentism, draws in fact upon pessimistic generalization, a frequent device of self-adjustment, that may be reduced to the following: since, in contrast to the old times, everyone behaves immorally, there is no reason for me to be any different. Both the unpleasant reality and the need to live with it are recognized. As usual, the practice of dissimulatio mediates between two extreme impulses, but the emphasis is shifted. For the opportunist, in contrast to the dissident, dissimulatio serves not as a source of remorse and inner conflict, but as a defense mechanism and a vehicle of self-exculpation. In this way, an uncontrollable moral relativism is introduced which allowed even someone guilty of an actual crime a certain amount of self-respect—a belief that one is, if not exactly virtuous, at least no worse than one’s neighbors. Eprius Marcellus’ pointed comparison of his opponent with the Catones and the Bruti was meant to provoke. The same ploy was used by Cossutianus Capito against Thrasea Paetus. Licinius Mucianus was bound to be present at this decisive session in the curia in order to witness the proceedings and, presumably, to inform Vespasian of their every detail—and no emperor could have been happy to number an imitator of the republican heroes among his senators. This encouraged Eprius Marcellus even to launch at his enemy veiled threats combined with a subtle adulatio of the incoming dynasty: Helvidius Priscus should take care not to exalt himself above the emperor, the experienced senior statesman and triumphator, the father of two grown sons, and coerce him with prescriptions of what he must do. At the end of his virtuoso performance, the delator, according to Tacitus, treated his audience to a sensible, albeit brief, instruction in political science: “Just as it pleases the worst of the Emperors to possess domination without limit, so it is the prerogative of the best of them to impose a measure on public liberty” (ibid.). After a show of further vehemence on both sides, Eprius Marcellus’ opinion of the proper procedure for forming the embassy to Vespasian won the day (ibid.)—an outcome demonstrating

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the strength of his position and reflecting the fears, vanities, and guilty consciences of his colleagues. Nonetheless, Musonius Rufus’ successful impeachment of Egnatius Celer, interpreted as “a sign of vengeance against the informers” (ibid., 41), encouraged the multi bonique to take further initiatives. Iunius Mauricus, the brother of Arulenus Rusticus (the young tribune and companion of Thrasea Paetus’ last days), submitted an official request to Domitian Caesar, at that time still formally a mere praetor, to place the Imperial archives at the Senate’s disposal and to publish a list of the Neronian delatores (ibid.), that it might be learned “who informed on whom demanding prosecution.” Domitian declined, with the comment that on a matter of such importance only the emperor himself could pronounce. The dissident campaigners were not satisfied. Although the names of the noxious persons, owing to Roman juridical practices, were a matter of common knowledge, they apparently needed an authoritative basis to act upon, and devised yet another means of officially telling the sheep from the goats: they convinced the Senate to subject each of its members to a solemn oath that “nothing was done by him by which another’s life could be injured, nor had he ever accepted an award or office as a result of another citizen’s calamity.” Those of unclean conscience (ibid.) proceeded to acquit themselves shamefacedly, “trembling and changing the words of the oath in various ways.” The rest, Tacitus coolly observes, “approved their religious scruples but attacked their perjuries” (ibid.). The tumult reached in the curia at that point can be easily imagined. Certainly, the less prominent Neronian delatores must have panicked, believing themselves on the verge of being lynched. Tacitus (Hist., 4, 41) provides a few of their names: Nonius Attianus, [T?] Cestius Severus, Sariolenus Vocula. This last, in fact, was ejected from the Senate building by a threat of physical violence (ibid.). He was followed by C.Paccius Africanus, a former consul (c. AD 66–8) who had been instrumental in the ruin of the Scribonii brothers executed late in Nero’s reign. Paccius Africanus, however, eased the pressure on himself by implicating in the same affair a collaborationist of greater stature, the disreputable Q.Vibius Crispus, consul AD 62, on whom the senators descended next (ibid.), though with little effect: that shark proved too tough for their teeth. Meanwhile, a formidable, but ultimately futile, attack was being mounted against the most famous of the informers, M.Aquilius Regulus (see pp. 207ff.). It is under these auspices that the indomitable Helvidius Priscus is said to have begun to hope that even Eprius Marcellus might finally be crushed (ibid., 43). Helvidius Priscus no doubt carefully prepared his new assault and opened his speech— characteristically—with a panegyric of Nero’s loyal associate, the historian Cluvius Rufus, who was not, however, guilty of delation. Helvidius Priscus’ purpose was clearly to contrast two types of opportunistic behavior—innocuous and obnoxious. He was not, however, allowed to reach his climax. Passions and tensions grew, but just when they threatened to burst out of control, Eprius Marcellus, that master of provocation, performed a striking démarche: “He made as if he was departing from the

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curia, and said: ‘Priscus, we go and leave to you your Senate: reign even in the presence of Caesar [Domitian] here.’ And Vibius Crispus followed his lead.” Both behaved with verve, but were restrained by their associates. The turbulence led to a clearer demarcation of what the senatorial historian saw as the forces of good and evil, both sides fighting with “obstinate hatred.” But the tactic of obstruction on the part of the delatores had the paralyzing effect they evidently desired: proper procedures were disrupted, any resolution was made impossible, and “the day was consumed by the discord” (ibid.). At the next meeting of the Senate, on January 15, AD 70, Domitian pleaded reconciliation and recommended that past enmities and injustices be consigned to oblivion (ibid., 44)—a characteristic move on the part of autocratic successors to tyranny attempting both to appear moderate and to protect the form and prestige of the regime from devaluation. The majority of the delatores were shrewd enough to side with Vespasian at the right moment and show they were as eager to serve as a pillar of his rule as they had been of Nero’s, and this important political potential could not be dismissed lightly. Licinius Mucianus proceeded to speak at length on their behalf, greatly admonishing their opponents (ibid.). Aiming clearly at Helvidius Priscus, Licinius Mucianus invoked a juridical technicality, the AD 61 Senatusconsultum Turpilianum (Dig., 48, 16) prohibiting a prosecutor who had abandoned a case (and Helvidius Priscus had dropped the charges against Eprius Marcellus under Galba) from reopening it on the same charges (Tac. Hist., 4, 44), and made the Senate comply. In a gesture intended to pacify senatorial indignation (ibid.), Licianus Mucianus then ordered the renewed banishments of the dissident-turned-informer Antistius Sosianus, “hateful to many because of the depravity of his character” (ibid.), and of the murderous tribune of AD 58, Octavius Sagitta, both of whom had willfully returned to Rome from their places of exile. Although this concession was negligible (cf. ibid.)—besides which the crime of the latter, the killing of his mistress (Tac. Ann., 13, 44), did not relate to politics at all—and they well understood this (cf. Hist., loc. cit.), the senators “when they were opposed, let slip a chance of liberty they were close to grasping” (ibid.). The Imperial “thaw” followed the age-old dictum: “The best day after a bad Emperor is the first” (ibid., 42). The Neronian delatores must have been unnerved at first in the face of their enraged colleagues. But the outcome of the affair suggests that, even though in certain individual cases the threat of official impeachment by the members of the curia was genuine, the delatores effectively enjoyed security as long as they were given the support of their Imperial masters—even at a change of dynasty. The only peril the pauci et validi faced was abandonment by the emperor for reasons of political exigencies, though that peril was real enough. At any point in their career they risked sharing the fate of a once powerful patron now disgraced, being made a scapegoat for the government’s repressive policies, or falling victim to the emperor’s whim or his mere weakness. In the final analysis, the collaborationists’ fortunes could prove as precarious as those of their opposites. The constant anticipation of some nemesis or other, the unpredictability of every turn events might take, the high stakes

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of either sudden ruin or rapid self-aggrandizement, created an entropy in their lives requiring unrestrained ambition, forceful strength of character, and considerable skill of maneuvering. The circumstances made any lack of will suicidal and forced them to overcome the paralyzing effects of dissimulatio by the cultivation of dynamic immoralism. The ambivalence of their societal and psychological status was largely responsible for their sometimes baffling actions and reactions. Eprius Marcellus, emerging unscathed from the senatorial assault upon him, proceeded to play his games in the higher circles of power. But he was clearly far more complex than a mere vulgar sycophant. A model of daring, audacia, as great an adventurer as he was a powerful orator and able administrator, he seems never to have been satisfied with what he achieved or, if one wishes to be gracious to him, to have been troubled by a subconscious remorse which his habitual dissimulatio proved unable to suppress entirely. One can imagine the sensation Eprius Marcellus caused in AD 79 with his unexpected attempt, in alliance with another adventurer, A.Caecina Alienus, at a coup against Vespasian and his suicide in the aftermath of its failure (Dio, 66, 16, 3; cf. Suet. Div. Titus, 6). II Nero’s Grand Tour of Greece, which lasted some sixteen months, from August AD 66 until December AD 67 (Suet. Nero, 22–4; Dio, 63, 8–19; cf. Juv., 8, 224f.; Phil. Vita Apol., 4, 24; 5, 7ff.), became a seminal event that intensified his lifelong interest in the East, from now on numbering among his foremost preoccupations. It was also a painstakingly orchestrated affair with consequences and repercussions which undoubtedly contributed both to the growth of Nero’s popularity in the Orient and to the erosion of his power at home. Our sources unanimously claim a purely cultural background to the whole enterprise and no political reasons behind it whatever. It appears that Nero was prompted to embark upon this project by the vivid appreciation of his artistic endeavors expressed, in all their embassies, by the Greeks themselves (cf. Suet. Nero, 22)—whether they were acting out of sycophancy or genuinely sympathetic interest. The emperor added insult to the mockery of the upper classes when he appointed, to serve as a sort of regent in Rome for the period of his absence, the freedman Helius who was remembered for his complicity in the “first crime” of Nero’s reign—the destruction of M.Iunius Silanus. Subsequently, he departed for Greece with a considerable retinue (Dio, 63, 8, 3) which included—in addition to a number of unsavory persons—certain more respectable individuals, like the consular historian Cluvius Rufus (ibid., 14, 3) and, somewhat surprisingly, a retired general of tenacious habits and no little dexterity called Vespasian. In fact, Dio suggests that Nero “had taken away many of the foremost men to Greece, under the pretense of needing some assistance from them, merely in order that they might perish there” (ibid., 11, 4). The extant accounts of the tour relegate it to the realm of Nero’s shameful deeds, and even Greek authors like Dio (e.g., 62, 9, 1ff.) and Philostratus (e.g., Vita Apol., 5, 7)

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subscribed entirely in this respect to the views of the Roman upper classes, disregarding what they knew about participation in athletic or musical games by their own statesmen, heroes, and kings of the past, including Alexander the Great. The Greek masses, however, judged it differently, and much of their enthusiasm (cf., e.g., Dio, 63, 10, 1ff.) must have been genuine and spontaneous. There is hardly any doubt that Nero’s famous “liberation” of Greece (Suet. Nero, 24; Plut. Flam., 12, 13), personally proclaimed by him on November 28 of, most likely, AD 67, was devoid of any political meaning and should rather be seen as an extension of his cultural philhellenism. The measure amounted only to the removal of the proconsular administration of the province and the granting to it of immunity from taxes. Although welcomed enthusiastically by the local officialdom, the Greek autonomy proved short-lived and was revoked by Vespasian around AD 74 on the grounds of internal dissension and the growth of factional strife. While it is not possible here to inquire in depth into the attitudes of the Greeks toward the Roman authorities, it may be assumed that there were at least three factors which contributed to the final judgment on Nero both by the intellectuals and by the populace at large: his cultural philhellenism, the act of “liberation,” and the arbitrary terror lurking behind both. This last must have been of lesser import to the lower classes, but the true measure of the sympathy for Nero of the average Greeks must be sought, of course, not in the reports of their acclamation of his art, nor in the laudatory inscriptions, largely the work of local officials, but rather in the peculiar nationwide sentiment later manifest in the Greeks’ lasting belief that Nero somehow survived his violent overthrow and went into hiding, some day to return. Such a phenomenon is not unknown in history—witness King Arthur or Friedrich Barbarossa, or, for that matter, the numerous imposters popping up in every age even to the present day. Still, scarcely another example comes immediately to mind of a notorious tyrant enjoying the same quasi-messianic status. This, however, is what Dio Chrysostom says some years after Nero’s death: For so far as the rest of his subjects were concerned, there was nothing to prevent his continuing to be Emperor for all time, seeing that even now everybody wishes he were still alive. And the great majority do believe that he is, although in a certain sense he has died not once but often, along with those who had been firmly convinced that he was still alive. (Or., 21, 10) This last sentence seems to be an allusion to the false Neros—three of them apparently emerged in the span of twenty years, and the amount of support they enjoyed there was striking testimony to the strength and vitality of pro-Neronian sentiments in the Eastern parts of the Empire. As for the Greek intellectuals, in regard to Nero they experienced divided feelings, a compromise which tended to condemn and condone him simultaneously.

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This is encapsulated in Plutarch’s delightful epitaph to the “artistic tyrant” revealing the whole measure of Greek ambivalence about Nero and placed in the Plato-like vision of the afterlife seen by the mythical character Thespius of Soli: He was viewing the final spectacle of his vision, the souls returning to a second birth, as they were forcibly bent to fit all manner of living things and altered in shape by the framers of these, who with blows from certain tools were welding and hammering together one set of members, wrenching another apart, and polishing away and quite obliterating a third, to adapt them to new characters and lives, when among them appeared the soul of Nero, already in a sorry plight and pierced with incandescent rivets. For his soul too the framers had made ready a form, that of…a viper, in which it was to live on eating its way out of its pregnant mother, when suddenly (he said) a great light shot through and a voice came out of the light, commanding them to transfer it to a milder kind of brute and frame instead a vocal creature, frequenter of marshes and lakes, as he had paid the penalty for his crimes, and a piece of kindness too was owed him by the gods, since to the nation which among his subjects was noblest and most beloved of Heaven he had granted freedom. (De sera num. vind., 567F) On the one hand, the political sensibilities of the Greeks had little or nothing in common with senatorial dissimulatio as portrayed in the course of this study. The reason for this lay in the very dissimilar historical situations of these two groups at this time. The senatorial order continued to represent the social and political elite from which the bearers of power were to be recruited. Officially, the Senate never ceased to be considered the government, with the princeps as partner. Thus, public expectations— existimatio—necessarily exerted a compelling force: senators were supposed to take an active and visible part in the affairs of state, even though de facto their role had been reduced to almost nothing, their authority had become largely illusory, and their careers were endowed with ever-lessening political meaning. All of this led to the rise of dissimulatio as a pervasive mental characteristic. In contrast, the Greek educated class, though technically reduced to a subject status, had retained a measure of autonomy that allowed sufficient room for the exercise of their traditional politicizing spirit, even if, in practice, only within the narrow limits of the local oligarchies. That these local politics could be quite stormy, leading even to conflicts with the Roman authorities, accounts for the relevance of such tracts as Plutarch’s Praecepta gerendae rei publicae or Dio Chrysostom’s ex cathedra addresses to the cities and the nation at large (esp. Or., 31–51). There were, on the other hand, doctrinaire philosophers who represented a special breed within the Greek intellectual community. They, by definition, were seriously involved in contemporary political theory, of which matters pertinent to tyranny constituted the cornerstone. The boundaries between different philosophical schools grew blurred particularly in this regard, though the same is to a large extent true of many

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of the essentials of their ethics: after all, each of these sects, from the Platonists to the Epicureans, preached wisdom and virtue as f oundations of humankind and treated tyrants with an equal odium and contempt. In realistic terms, the difference between, say, Stoicism, Cynicism, or Pythagoreanism consisted at this time not so much in the fine points of their respective dogmas, but rather in the distinct lifestyles, or what may be called the patterns of Lebensbildung, “life-construction,” advocated and practiced by their adherents. The logic of this behavior based on the priority of spiritual pursuits, in addition to making the philosophers socially and politically conspicuous, demanded of them that they live up to their beliefs and take an intransigent stand in the face of danger—“to die for the sake of philosophy,” in the words of Philostratus (Vita Apol., 4, 38)—and all the more so when confronting a tyrant. “I am aware that the conduct of philosophers under tyranny,” writes Philostratus, “is the truest touchstone of their character” (ibid., 7). This same fierce behavioral logic, armed against any sign of selfbetrayal, left them, at least in theory, altogether without room (and with no need) for dissimulatio: faithful to their self-definition as citizens of the world, their thought operated on a global scale in the quest for Good and Evil, shunning any compromise between the two. This is what makes Seneca, with his constant moral torment, so untypical a philosopher, and the politicians of Thrasea Paetus’ ilk not philosophers at all but, at best, philosophizers. At this juncture, however, it is important to emphasize that, despite their many personal connections, even friendships, in dissident quarters, none of these Greek men were faced with the necessity, as were all their senatorial admirers, of an irrevocable involvement in political life. Their commitment was not to freedom of action but to freedom of speech, parresia, so that they could afford the luxury of remaining aloof from any dangerous proceedings and only commenting on them if they so wished. No evidence exists that any of them took part in direct subversion. From the political standpoint, then, the philosophers were less actors than sufferers, resembling in this respect the senatorial secessionists, although for entirely different reasons: the predicament of the former was due to their position outside the political arena, whereas that of the latter resulted from their stature within it. All this makes clearer Seneca’s advocacy of the philosophers and his insistence that they posed no threat to the authorities (Epist., 73), little though this contributed to their saf ety. It was the resilient and uncompromising moralism preached by the philosophical Greek practitioners of every description that more than anything else outraged Nero’s sensibilities, forcing him occasionally to overreact. III Toward the late spring of AD 66 Nero received from the legate of Syria, C. Cestius Gallus, the first news of the serious disturbances in Judaea (cf. Jos. Bell. Jud., 2, 282ff.). We do not hear from our authorities of any immediate response to the crisis on the emperor’s part. In fact, it appears that his actual intervention came only at the end of the year (ibid., 558), and then from Greece, with his appointment of Vespasian

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as commander-in-chief of the Roman force in Judaea (ibid., 3, 4ff.) following Cestius Gallus’ defeat at the hands of the rebels, his retreat from Jerusalem (ibid., 2, 499ff.), and his subsequent death. Thus, the veteran general of the British conquest re-entered the historical scene and began his march toward supreme power. Born in AD 9 to an Italian municipal family of tax-collectors and bankers (Suet. Div. Vesp., 1) that must have possessed both wealth and political connections, T.Flavius Vespasianus owed his career under Claudius and Nero to his skill in political maneuvering and to arduous military efforts. He was fifty-seven at the time of this appointment, and had therefore spent much of his mature life in the time of terror. This prompts the question whether any traces of dissident sensibilities are discernible in his conduct or attitudes, since he was a man on the surface so fully cooperative with the regime and a future emperor. Vespasian is said to have begun his senatorial career rather late, having been impelled to it by the example of his elder brother, T.Flavius Sabinus (ibid., 2; cf. Tac. Hist. 3, 75), who enjoyed Nero’s trust and rose to become the city prefect after AD 56. (He was removed from this post by Galba, reinstated by Otho, and perished at the hands of the Vitellians during their seige of the Capitol in AD 69 (Tac. Hist., 1, 46; cf. Plut. Otho, 5; Suet. Vit., 15).) As a homo novus, Vespasian possibly met some resentment in entrenched senatorial quarters. We hear that he ran into difficulties when competing for the office of aedile in AD 38 (Suet. Div. Vesp., 2) and that, what is worse, when finally elected, he was reportedly humiliated by Caligula, who ordered him to be covered with mud, accusing him of dereliction of duty and failure to clean the streets of Rome (ibid., 5; cf. Dio, 59, 12, 3). Only an inordinate degree of dissimulatio can have enabled him to suppress his sense of outrage and to side with the emperor during Caligula’s bloody conflict with the Senate (cf. Suet. Div. Vesp., 2). Certainly, in the course of his praetorship in around AD 39–40 Vespasian excelled in sycophancy: he proposed that special games be held to celebrate the emperor’s fictitious victory in Germany, he made a recommendation that the bodies of Imperial victims be left unburied as a sign of additional punishment, and finally, as if his humiliation a year earlier had never taken place, he publicly thanked Caligula before the curia for honoring him with an invitation to a palace dinner (ibid.). But it was under the next emperor that Vespasian earned his renown as a warrior, participating with distinction in the conquest of Britain (Tac. Hist., 3, 44; Dio, 60, 20, 3; 30, 1; 65, 8; cf. Jos. Bell. Jud., 3, 4; Sil. Ital., 3, 597ff.; Val. Flacc., 1, 7ff.) and fighting some thirty battles there (Suet. Div. Vesp., 4), for which he was awarded by Claudius triumphal ornaments, two priesthoods, and a suffect consulship for AD 51 (ibid.; cf. Tac. Hist., 2, 77f.; 4, 8). It is worth noting that Vespasian is said to have obtained his original military appointment in Germany through the influence of the powerful freedman Narcissus (Suet., loc. cit.)—an interesting touch that casts some light on his subsequent activities. In fact, it appears that he became affiliated with the circle (and household) of Claudius’ mother, the younger Antonia, whose freedwoman and trusted secretary, Antonia Caenis, he made a mistress. It was also at this time that he may have made the acquaintance of the members of the royal house of Herod and

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the Jewish aristocracy, such as the future King Herod Agrippa II and the future prefect of Egypt Tib. Iulius Alexander, who were growing influences at the Imperial court. This was a contact that eventually proved instrumental both as regards Vespasian’s appointment to command in the Jewish war and his own later bid for the purple. One might expect this man to tread cautiously amid the numerous court intrigues, as did other military men like Suetonius Paullinus or Domitius Corbulo, ill-suited to the constant need and practice of dissimulatio. But Vespasian, on the contrary, chose to play a game of his own. As a homo novus, he also needed the support of the senatorial patrons and we know that he made himself a client of the formidable L.Vitellius (cf. Tac. Hist., 3, 66) who presided over the family alliance that was rising rapidly to power under Claudius, and whose son was, ironically, to become Vespasian’s own rival for the possession of the Empire. Presumably by exploiting these and other connections he succeeded in placing his teenage son Titus at the very center of the Palatine as a companion to the young prince Britannicus—no mean achievement for the grandson of a contractor. Claudius and his advisors undoubtedly considered this arrangement preferable to the possibility of the heir apparent taking into his confidence the offspring of some ambitious patrician family. Vespasian’s fortunes changed with the fall of Messallina. His retreat from the limelight is attributed by Suetonius to his fear of the ascendant Agrippina, the sworn enemy of Narcissus, his freedman protector (ibid., 4). In consequence, he was forced to keep a low profile for the rest of her lifetime. Surprisingly, his withdrawal from the scene did not affect his son’s position at the court. Even though Britannicus’ star was in eclipse, Titus remained at his side and so had ample opportunity to serve as his father’s eyes and ears at court and perhaps to gain the sympathy of various august personages. An intelligent youth, he may also have been able to form a fair estimate of Nero’s character. All this, however, came to an end with Britannicus’ murder, witnessed by Titus. (The unchanging good fortunes of Vespasian’s brother Flavius Sabinus suggest that on the eve of Claudius’ succession the two of them sided deliberately with competing factions, one supporting Britannicus and another Nero in order to ensure that, independently of the outcome of their struggle, the family would have a better chance of survival.) All this experience indicates that in the person of Vespasian we encounter a crafty individual, tenacious and willing to gamble, who watched from his retirement the events of the first years of Nero’s reign—even if he himself, for purposes of dissimulatio, adopted the guise of a simple soldier. Whatever potential benefits he may originally have envisaged coming from Titus’ intimacy with Britannicus, now, with all such hopes dashed, the memory of his son’s dead friend worked only to aggravate Vespasian’s status as persona non grata. His disappointment may well have grown from the comparison of his present obscurity with his relative prominence in the earlier reign. Such frustration could account for the positive evidence we possess of Vespasian’s links during Nero’s reign with various discontented senatorial families and even with out-and-out dissident circles. An inscription testifies to the trust he enjoyed

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with the house of Licinii Crassi (CIL, 6, 1268), later exterminated at the instigation of the delator Aquilius Regulus (see pp. 202f.). On the other hand, Tacitus has Helvidius Priscus attest unequivocally to Vespasian’s friendship with Thrasea Paetus and Barea Soranus (Hist., 4, 7). Moreover, Vespasian became related to the latter through his son Titus’ second marriage (Suet. Div. Titus, 4) to Marcia Furnilla, the daughter of Barea Soranus’ brother, Q.Marcius Barea Sura (even though he soon divorced her, perhaps on personal grounds, but more likely to distance himself and his father from those who may have been by this time threatened with disgrace). This alone, however, apart from other considerations, accounts for the treatment of the Neronian informers at Rome in the aftermath of the Flavian victory: Licinius Mucianus allowed the senators to penalize Barea Soranus’ betrayer, Egnatius Celer, but found it politically necessary to allow Eprius Marcellus, who was responsible for Thrasea Paetus’ death and the greater villain, to escape unscathed. Agrippina’s death facilitated Vespasian’s return to public life. In fact, after Flavius Sabinus’ appointment in the prestigious office of the city prefect, the Flavii were in the position to form a power base of their own. Vespasian was restored to full favor and in AD 63 received the governorship of Africa. The opinions on his conduct of this office are conflicting (Suet. Div. Vesp., 4; Tac. Hist., 2, 97)—thus, we hear, for instance, that he was insulted by the mob at a moment of popular unrest (Suet., loc. cit.). Upon his return, he survived an official rebuke for an attempt at extortion (ibid.) and continued to attend at the Palatine. It is not altogether clear why Nero chose this uncouth soldier to be his comes—a companion on his artistic tour of Greece. One possible explanation may lie in the recent trial of Barea Soranus: the emperor perhaps thought it wise to keep a personal eye on this peculiar former kinsman and associate of the executed man, with his potentially dangerous military connections. As it appears, Vespasian less than appreciated both the honor and the concomitant pleasures of the tour. His brief fall from Nero’s favor is attributed in our sources to his inadvertent “aesthetic dissidence” coming from an accidental failure in dissimulatio (see p. 135). Suetonius’ version is amusingly dramatic: On the Greek journey as one of Nero’s companions he inflicted the gravest offense on him: while [the emperor] was singing, he either went out, or fell asleep if in attendance. Therefore, banished not only from informal companionship, but also from public situations, he withdrew in the little outof-the-way community until it happened that to him, hiding there and fearing extreme things, a province and an army were offered. (Div. Vesp., 4) Dio reports that he was rudely sent away by Nero’s freedman Phoebus with the habitual Greek abuse “Go to the vultures!” (66, 11, 2; cf. Suet. Div. Vesp., 5). Vespasian must have been a true expert in dissimulatio to tolerate this from the mouth of a servant. He characteristically underscored the point years later when Phoebus begged for his (now Imperial) pardon: he treated the offensive freedman to

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exactly the same words of abuse and nothing more (Dio, 66, 11, 3; Suet. Div. Vesp., 14). This whole affair impressed itself upon the contemporary mind as a comment on the omnipotence of the Imperial secretaries, so hateful to the members of the upper class. Vespasian’s disgrace hardly amounted to a formal Imperial “renunciation of friendship.” His reported flight from court and fear for his life should be interpreted as overreaction on his part, not surprising in that reign of terror and in a man who had just lost a former relative to the “artistic tyrant.” Yet this time his retirement did not last long: the episode is to be dated to the very start of the Greek tour, in the late summer or early autumn of AD 66. By the end of that year Vespasian was already informed of his new appointment as legatus Augusti pro praetore and commander of three legions in Judaea—so that the period of his disfavor cannot have exceeded two or three months at the most. Nero’s choice can be explained by the shortage of other available candidates and by his growing suspicions—fueled by the so-called Vinician conspiracy which came to light during that same year—of high-born military commanders in charge of provincial armies, whom he now began to replace with men from the middle and even the lower classes. He did not fear Vespasian (cf. Suet. Div. Vesp., 4, 5), while appreciating his energy and experience. Flavius Sabinus’ influence must have counted and even more that of the high-placed Jewish collaborators. All said, one is not surprised by Tacitus’ verdict on the man’s career up to that point: “Vespasian’s reputation was ambiguous; of all of his predecessors, he is the only one who [when he became emperor] changed to the better” (Hist., 1, 50). We are told (Bell. Jud., 2, 284; Ant. Jud., 20,184) that the revolt in Palestine was sparked by Rome’s refusal to grant to the Jews of Caesarea their request of civil rights equal to those of that city’s Greek inhabitants. Nero’s own part in that resolution must have been decisive, but this did not make the Jewish attitude toward him, at least as it is reflected in the available evidence, uniformly negative. The immediate popular antagonism was directed against the procuratorial administration rather than the central government. Jewish dissent cannot be analyzed in terms of the mechanism of senatorial dissimulatio. Senatorial behavior was outwardly motivated by the contingencies of the mos maiorum, and it depended on public existimatio—a matter of convention and subject to change. Furthermore, the entire code of traditional behavior had suffered a crisis and was near to collapse. In contrast, Judaism of the period represented the peak of a living and ardent faith, to a large extent eschatologically colored, which assumed each individual to have a personal relationship with the divine. Given this assumption, the religious dogma offered believers psychological channels and outlets to facilitate their accommodation to reality and, paradoxically, to justify any kind of political behavior by a direct appeal to the will of God. It was in this spirit that the dissenter Josephus ben Matthias—later Flavius Josephus—a general-turned-historian, even though “torn by all manner of emotions at that critical moment” (Bell. Jud., 3, 385), managed to resolve his predicament and

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justify in his own eyes his act of betrayal at a time when his comrades-at-arms were committing collective suicide: He offered up a silent prayer to God. “Since it pleases Thee,” so it ran, “who didst create the Jewish nation, to break Thy work, since fortune has wholly passed to the Romans, and since Thou hast made choice of my spirit to announce the things that are to come, I willingly surrender to the Romans and consent to live; but I take Thee to witness that I go, not as a traitor, but as Thy minister.” (ibid., 354) IV The loss of Tacitus’ account of the last two years of Nero’s reign prevents a coherent reconstruction of domestic events. The most important as well as the most obscure of these was the “Vinician conspiracy” in Beneventum, recorded by Suetonius in only half a sentence (Nero, 36). An echo of this conspiracy, which was evidently detected in an early stage, appears to be contained in a double entry in the Acta Fratrum Arvalium (a collection of annual accounts made by the priestly college) for the summer of AD 66 celebrating the exposure of yet further unspecified “nefarious designs” (Smallwood, 25–6). The plotters seem to have learned their lesson from the failure of the Pisonians and abstained from any involvement with the praetorian guard. Instead, they chose for the place of their deed a convenient spot removed from the capital. Since its geography coincided with Nero’s plans to leave Italy and it was centered in Beneventum, it is very likely that the purpose of this intrigue was to intercept and kill Nero as he passed through the town on his way to the coast to set sail for Greece. The leader of this conspiracy could not have been a Vinicius (Suetonius habitually mistook names) but rather, according to scholarly consensus, Annius Vinicianus, who may have enjoyed a distant kinship with the Imperial house, if we assume that he was somehow related to M.Vinicius, the husband of Iulia Livilla, Caligula’s sister (Tac. Ann., 6, 15, 45). In terms of dynastic rivalry, however, this connection was too re mote to have caused sufficient concern even to Nero to make him subject the young Annius Vinicianus to the same ruthless treatment as the rest of the “dynastic dissidents.” Still, Annius Vinicianus possessed fair grounds for a “hereditary hatred towards Principes,” and he was one of the few to turn this hatred into radical action. He was a son of the powerful L. Annius Vinicianus, one of the main architects of Caligula’s assassination, who committed suicide upon the defeat of Camillus Scribonianus’ rebellion against Claudius in AD 42 which he had helped to stir up. Another son, Annius Pollio, had been recently exiled for his alleged role in the Pisonian affair, and his wife had perished shortly afterwards, together with her venerable father, Barea Soranus. Even more important, it seems almost certain that the leader of the new conspiracy was a son-in-law and trusted associate of Cn. Domitius

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Corbulo, the most famous Roman general of the time. The junior Annius Vinicianus proved his valor early in life, earning Imperial favor (Dio, 62, 25) and receiving, while still below the senatorial age (Tac. Ann., 15, 28), the rank of an acting legate of the legion (ibid.). In AD 63 Annius Vinicianus was entrusted by his father-in-law and commander-inchief with a delicate diplomatic mission: to enter the military camp of King Tiridates “as a sign of honor to him and a signal not to fear any treachery with such a pledge” (Tac., loc. cit.). Three years later the young man was to serve again in a similar capacity, but under riskier conditions. Fearful of the jealousy and suspicion he might provoke in the emperor on account of his military success, Domitius Corbulo, Dio tells us, “voluntarily sent to Rome his son-in-law Annius who was acting as his lieutenant; this was done with the ostensible purpose that Annius might escort Tiridates thither, but actually in order to put a hostage in Nero’s hands” (62, 23, 6). There is nothing to support modern speculations on treason—that the young man was dispatched by his superior to Nero with the secret purpose of building a conspiratorial network in the capital. Shortly I will argue that Domitius Corbulo was not even aware of the affair at Beneventum, and Nero may well have taken his lieutenant’s appearance for what it was intended—a gesture of trust. This is not to deny the possibility that during his stay in the capital Annius Vinicianus may have begun certain clandestine activities of his own, entirely irrespective of his chief. Rather, one imagines that the tragic spectacles he was there to witness could not but shatter the young officer’s slight abilities at dissimulatio and arouse feelings of outrage and a desire for vengeance. In any event, he found sympathizers among army circles, men suspicious of Nero’s further intentions regarding them, following his elimination of the popular commander Ostorius Scapula. The conspiracy’s premature exposure led not only to their own end but also to the ruin of the most renowned military figure of Nero’s reign, whose achievements were unequaled since Germanicus Caesar. Cn. Domitius Corbulo seems to have been throughout his long career a paragon of the loyal servant to the emperor untainted by dishonorable activities like delation. His family was considered so illustrious that Tacitus has Licinius Mucianus mention him in his address to Vespasian as of higher descent than either of them (Hist., 2, 76). Of Italian municipal origin on his father’s side, he, her youngest son, had as mother the renowned Vistilia, “the lady of six husbands,” and counted among his half-brothers and half-sisters such diverse individuals as the seditious suffect consul of AD 41, Q.Pomponius Secundus, the poet P.Pomponius Secundus, Thrasea Paetus’ friend (see p. 303), the famed delator P.Suillius Rufus, and Milonia Caesonia, Caligula’s last wife, who perished together with him (the great general’s only, and somewhat remote, link to the dynasty)—“a collection rather than a group.” Domitius Corbulo himself was associated with many of the key figures in the government, including first L.Vitellius and later Burrus and Seneca. He received a consulship at some point between AD 39 and 43, and later, in the years 46–7, he distinguished himself as governor of Lower Germany, even preparing to expand the Roman territory there when recalled by Claudius and awarded with triumphal decorations (Tac. Ann., 11, 18ff.; cf. Dio,

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60, 30, 4ff.). Following a subsequent term as Asia’s proconsul around the years 51–3, Domitius Corbulo may have suffered a short eclipse, to be summoned by Nero upon his accession to take command in the war with Parthia and Armenia. Our authorities consistently depict Domitius Corbulo as an upright character, devoted to the “ancient discipline” and moral traditionalism (Tac. Ann., 13, 8; Dio, 62, 19, 2; cf. Juv., 3, 25). Interestingly, Dio (63, 7) credits the view that Nero could not endure the idea of appearing before such a man in his costume of a lyre-player. At the same time, Domitius Corbulo had sufficient reason for resentment and annoyance at Nero’s regime although he faithfully promoted Nero’s policies: thwarted ambition, missed opportunities, moral indignation. In the midst of all his manifold activities, Domitius Corbulo was continually forced to waste his energy and time in petty squabbles with untrustworthy colleagues or subordinates—C.Ummidius Durmius Quadratus (Tac. Ann., 13, 9), L.Caesinnius Paetus (ibid., 15, 6), Arrius Varus (Hist., 3, 6). (The last is said to have supplied the emperor with the ultimate pretext for the general’s impeachment (ibid.).) Furthermore, for all his exceptional services, he never received from Nero even triumphal decorations, in contrast to the despicable Tigellinus who was so rewarded in the aftermath of the Pisonian conspiracy. Against this background, Domitius Corbulo’s professed long-standing loyalty to the emperor calls for attention. Reminiscent of the attitudes of such men as Iulius Agricola or Afranius Burrus, it is never placed in doubt by our sources. Tacitus insists that in his treatment of the army Domitius Corbulo was careful to emphasize Nero’s official status as supreme commander, despite his physical absence (cf. Ann., 15, 26). Dio categorically asserts that Domitius Corbulo “neither headed any rebellion nor was accused of doing so” (62, 23, 5), something King Tiridates must have known when he made his reported remark to Nero: “Master, you have in Corbulo a good slave” (ibid., 6, 4)—a remark that was later, characteristically, taken to be ambiguous, as follows from Dio’s comment that “he [Tiridates] praised Corbulo, in whom he found only this one fault that he would put up with such a master.” Public existimatio of Domitius Corbulo, however, seems to have differed, so that, according to the same Dio, he was viewed as capax imperii, “capable of reigning”: “He grieved everybody else in this one particular, that he kept faith with Nero; for people were so anxious to secure him as emperor in place of Nero that his conduct in this respect seemed to them his only defect” (62, 19, 4; cf. Suet. Div. Vesp., 23). The picture that emerges is of a man of solid common sense and commitment to the welfare of the Empire. This commitment, as well as his prolonged absence from the court, eased any anguish he may have felt over the need for dissimulatio. He seems to have chosen the lesser of two evils: the principate, with the “artistic tyrant” at the top, over civil war and an uncertain future. This kind of martyrdom to public duty was nothing new. In spurning the opportunity to seize power, Domitius Corbulo followed the famous precedent of Germanicus Caesar, while his choice may have served in turn as a model for the conduct of Verginius Rufus and even—though to the opposite effect—of Licinius Mucianus and Vespasian, who played out the scenario Corbulo refused.

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It may seem that with his accomplishments, both military and diplomatic, Domitius Corbulo rose above the status of a mere subject. But, in fact, we have no evidence that Nero was suspicious of him before the affair in Beneventum. On the contrary, we learn that he entrusted to Domitius Corbulo a larger military force than to anybody else, “feeling equal confidence that this leader would subdue the barbarians and would not revolt against him” (Dio, 62, 19, 3). But around AD 66 several of the general’s relatives fell victim to the Imperial terror. This made his own position increasingly precarious—especially if we accept the conjecture that he was married to the daughter of the jurist Cassius Longinus, recently impeached. Still, the temptation to assume that it was this appearance of encirclement which forced Domitius Corbulo finally to conspire against the emperor must be resisted: his entire behavior upon the exposure of the Vinician conspiracy, which cost him severe loss in the person of his son-in-law and trusted friend, speaks strongly against it. Instead of rebelling at once with all the force of the Orient behind him, the general meekly complied with Nero’s summons to attend him in Greece and there perished. Dio writes: I mention Corbulo, because the Emperor, after sending him also a most courteous summons and invariably calling him, among other names, “father” and “benefactor,” then, when this general landed at Cenchreae, commanded that he should be slain before he had even entered his presence…. The condemned man, as soon as he understood the order, seized a sword, and dealing himself a lusty blow, exclaimed: “Your due!” (axios!). (63, 17, 5–6) If Domitius Corbulo had been even obliquely implicated in the affair in Beneventum, or had he even been just aware of it, then his coming to Greece was the conduct of a fool or a madman, and Domitius Corbulo was neither. If he was concealing a guilty conscience, he could not have been deceived by the complimentary tone of Nero’s message. As for his last ambiguous cry—“axios!”—Dio’s interpretation conforms well to the convoluted psychology and rhetoricized mentality of the time: “Then, indeed, for the first time Corbulo was convinced that he had done wrong both in sparing the lyre-player and in going to him unarmed” (ibid.). But this does not exclude the likelihood that the conspirators at Beneventum thought of Domitius Corbulo as their candidate for emperor without his knowledge— much as Subrius Flavus and his associates were alleged to have done in regard to Seneca. Nero’s assassination would have conf ronted the general with a fait accompli, and the later conduct of Verginius Rufus or Vespasian suggests that there could have been different approaches to such an eventuality. In any event, Domitius Corbulo’s family allied itself with the next dynasty through the marriage of his daughter, Domitia Longina, to Domitian. As for the general’s reputation, it survived intact for

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many centuries, and we learn from one document of a heroic cult established around him at Peltuinum (CIL, 6, 16983). One of Domitius Corbulo’s nephews, Glitius Gallus, suffered exile in AD 65 in connection with the Pisonian conspiracy. Another, the distinguished Ser. Cornelius Scipio Salvidienus Orfitus, apparently perished around AD 66–7. He was the ordinary consul in AD 51 (with Claudius himself as a colleague (Plin. NH, 2, 99)), and the author of one of the senatorial adulatory decrees (see pp. 143f.). We are told that he was informed against (Tac. Hist., 4, 2) by the infamous delator Aquilius Regulus on an uncommon charge related to his owning building property near the Forum and allowing it to be leased for some public, or official, use (Suet. Nero, 37; Dio, 62, 27, 1). A calculated guess is that the area was deemed strategically important in the event of a coup, calling to mind the fortified mansion close by that belonged to Vestinus Atticus. If such was the case, it could make Salvidienus Orfitus’ disposition of it appear treasonous. It remains unclear whether the charge was a mere pretext for the destruction of this influential man, or whether he was implicated in the Vinician conspiracy, something our sources have misconceived or tried to obscure. Scholars habitually assume that the two formidable Scribonii brothers— [Sulpicius] Scribonius Proculus and [Sulpicius] Scribonius Rufus—were also destroyed around the same time in connection with the Vinician affair. Wealthy and of noble lineage, they were apparently related to the troublesome Scribonian clan descended from Pompey, and, possibly, to the decimated branch of Licinii Crassi through Sulpicia Praetextata, the wife of Crassus Frugi, consul AD 64. These two Scribonii brothers were renowned for their fraternal concord (cf. Tac. Hist., 4, 41; Dio, 62, 17, 3). As a pair, they were sent in AD 58 to quell the disturbances in Puteoli where the great Cassius Longinus had failed; as a pair, they governed Upper and Lower Germany for eight years (Dio, loc. cit.). The brothers were impeached (Tac., loc. cit.) by one Paccius Africanus (who was promptly rewarded with the suffect consulship for AD 67), with the possible cooperation of the infamous Q.Vibius Crispus—both these informers being members of Nero’s senatorial retinue in Greece. The exact nature of the charges against them, however, is unspecified. Dio tells us that the brothers were summoned on the pretext that they were needed for some commission, and that thereupon complaints of the kind in which that period abounded were lodged against them, but they could neither obtain a hearing nor get within sight of Nero; and as this caused them to be slighted by everybody alike, they began to long for death and so met their end by opening their veins. (loc. cit.) The mere fact of the brothers’ compliance with Nero’s summons suggests their innocence of any complicity in the plot. If, nonetheless, we assume their involvement, it would mean that the conspirators intended to return to a pattern established in AD 43 by Camillus Scribonianus (one wonders whether he may have

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been somehow related to the Scribonii brothers) and the elder Annius Vinicianus in which the revolt in the provinces was directed from Italy. All these deaths could only exacerbate the resentment caused by Nero’s fateful disregard for the existimatio of the military: the emperor never personally appeared before any of the armies in the provinces, to say nothing of his failure to preside over a single expedition. On the other hand, this decimation of the provincial governors suggests that Nero had begun to suspect a lack of loyalty in the high-born individuals appointed to these posts. All the successors to the executed men were of much lower origin: L.Verginius Rufus and Fonteius Capito, who replaced the Scribonii brothers; Licinius Mucianus, who assumed Domitius Corbulo’s office in the East; and also Vespasian, granted special powers in Judaea. The illustrious govenor of Moesia, Tib. Plautius Silvanus Aelianus, was recalled to Rome without honor. The same concern with the loyalty of the Imperial troops is also emphasized in the coinage of the late Neronian years, with the legends FIDES MILITUM or FIDES EXERCITUS appearing with greater frequency than usual for Julio-Claudian monetary policy. V On his departure for Greece Nero left the freedman Helius as “regent” in Rome, granting him omnipotent discretionary powers so that he could, Dio tells us, confiscate, banish, or put to death, even before consulting Nero: Thus the Roman Empire was at that time a slave to two Emperors at once, Nero and Helius; and I am unable to say which of them was the worse. In most respects they behaved entirely alike, and the one point of difference was that the descendant of Augustus was emulating lyre-players and tragedians, whereas the freedman of Claudius was emulating Caesars. (Dio, 63, 12, 1–2) One cannot establish the measure of exaggeration in this sarcastic pronounce ment, or to what extent Helius actually coordinated his policies with the emperor: elsewhere (63, 11, 4) Dio emphasizes the exchange of couriers between Rome and Greece. Be that as it may, we know only a few names—among them, Domitius Corbulo, Salvidienus Orfitus, and the two Scribonii—from the victims of the terror during Helius’ regency, which lasted just over a year. The limited number of known victims reveals little, however, for the absence of Tacitus’ account makes it impossible to establish the true picture or scale of the persecutions, particularly in the capital (cf. ibid., 18, 2). It remains an open question whether [Q.] Sulpicius Camerinus Pythicus, suffect consul of AD 46 and proconsul of Africa around AD 56–7, who had been earlier acquitted by Nero himself on charges of extortion (Tac. Ann., 13, 52), was any relation to the Scribonii brothers. This would shed some light on his own and his son’s impeachment, in which the official charge as reported by Dio sounds ridiculous:

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Among other things he [Helius] put to death one of the foremost men, Sulpicius Camerinus, together with his son, the complaint against them being that they would not give up their title of Pythicus, received from some of their ancestors, but showed irreverence toward Nero’s Pythian victories by their use of this same title. (63, 18, 2) The title Pythicus must have been indeed ancestral—it is mentioned by Quintilian in a series of other similar Roman cognomina of Greek origin (1, 6, 3). The prosecution of Sulpicius Camerinus, as well as that of Salvidienus Orfitus, was conducted (cf. Plin. Epist., 1, 5, 3; Tac. Hist., 4, 42) by the young and eloquent delator M.Aquilius Regulus, who had begun his infamous career even before he arrived at the legal age for entering public office (Tac., loc. cit.). From both a sociological and a psychological point of view, his is an interesting case. Belonging to a disgraced family (his father went bankrupt and was exiled (ibid.)), Aquilius Regulus chose to embark on the career of an unscrupulous collaborationist, informer, and prosecutor. As with others of the pauci et validi—men like Suillius Rufus, Antistius Sosianus, or Fabricius Veiento—who fell early in their careers to a misadventure, or to Imperial harassment, this was a deliberate choice—as a means of adjusting to reality—and it demanded continuous practice of dissimulatio. A dynamic personality and a typical “modernist,” Aquilius Regulus held the traditionalist champions of the mos maiorum in contempt. Martial knew well what he was doing when he dedicated to this man an epigram (6, 10) condemning the archaists and the conservatives. What is known of Aquilius Regulus’ vicissitudes, however, cautions against hasty judgments about political attitudes of individual senators purely on grounds of personal history or earlier affiliations of the f amilies to which they belong, whether dissident or collaborationist. Room remained for personal choice. Thus, while Aquilius Regulus himself was one of the most prominent Neronian delatores, his halfbrother Vipstanus Messalla apparently sided with the multi bonique: as a participant in Tacitus’ Dialogus de Oratoribus, he promotes the standard reactionary argument of a pessimistic generalization about the present because of a lack of ancestral moral vigor. The most prominent victims of Aquilius Regulus’ nefarious activities under Nero were, however, the family of M.Licinius Crassus Frugi, consul AD 64 (cf. Plin. Epist., 1, 5, 3; Tac. Hist. 4, 42), who were direct descendants of both Pompey the Great and Crassus the Triumvir. This fact alone, particularly if the Pisonian conspiracy had a Pompeian background, would have made them an obvious target for persecution. The elder generation, M.Licinius Crassus Frugi, consul AD 27, and Scribonia, were eventually destroyed around AD 46 under Claudius, together with their elder son, Cn. Pompeius Magnus, Antonia’s first husband and a victim of Messallina’s ambition. Crassus Frugi, consul AD 64, was their second son, and one can only guess at the character of his dissimulatio and whether or not he was affected by “hereditary hatred towards the Principes” by reason of his parents’ fate. Similarly, nothing is known about

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any subversive activities on his part, and it is unlikely that his tenuous connection with the dynasty—through his elder brother’s short-lived marriage to Antonia—could have played a major role in his ruin. A possible hint at the immediate cause of his destruction at some point in AD 66–7 comes from his link with the recently executed Sulpicius Camerinus Pythicus, to whose daughter, Sulpicia Praetextata, he was married—but this is no more than speculation. Some years later in AD 70 it was rumored that the third of the Crassi brothers, [Licinius] Crassus Scribonianus, because of his family’s distinction (Tac. Hist., 4, 39) was urged by Antonius Primus, then a strongman—who promised considerable support for the plot—to compete for supreme power, but that he refused point-blank. Tacitus’ comment on this is characteristic: “He would not have been corrupted even if everything was prepared, the less so, fearing things uncertain” (ibid.). His refusal did him little good, and shortly afterwards he perished in his turn (ibid., 1, 48). Yet the fame and the lineage of the family, together with the personal qualities of the man of his choice, must have contributed to Galba’s decision to adopt and name as his heir the earlier exiled youngest brother, L.Calpurnius Piso Frugi Licinianus—which no doubt shocked the delator Aquilius Regulus, mortal enemy of the house of the Crassi. But the young man, who thus entered the official list of the Caesars, perished five days later along with his benefactor, and it was said that this same delator bribed Piso Licinianus’ assassin to bring to him the head of the victim, which he tore with his teeth (ibid., 4, 42)—a gruesome touch indeed (even if invented) and suggestive of the sort of existimatio which Aquilius Regulus enjoyed. It must have been one of the younger Crassus Frugi’s four sons (about whose fate nothing further is known) who bore the name [Licinius] Scribonianus Camerinus and who was impersonated by an adventurous runaway slave, Geta. This false Crassus took advantage of the chaos of civil war and in AD 69 began a minor disturbance, saying that out of fear he had concealed himself during the last years of Nero’s reign in Istria (Tac. Hist., 2, 72), “for there still remained the clientela, the lands, and the favor for the name of the ancient Crassi” (ibid.). It must have been the prestige of this lineage and an expectation of support on the part of the family’s clients—a f actor always to be reckoned with in any planned subversion—which induced Geta to adopt such a name, possibly with the view of posing as an eventual pretender for the purple. He was joined, we are told, by the dregs of society and gullible common folk as well as a number of soldiers “who gathered, in competition, around him either because of a genuine error or from the desire to make trouble.” But the enterprise was singularly ill-conceived: the imposter was seized, recognized by his former master, and executed “as becomes a slave” (i.e., crucified) on the orders of Vitellius (ibid.). Still, the spell of the name, putatively threatening to the authorities, continued into the next century. Another of the younger Crassus Frugi’s sons, C.Calpurnius Piso Crassus Frugi Licinianus, consul AD 87, was charged with conspiracy under Nerva, exiled by Trajan, and put to death in the first months of Hadrian’s reign—though none of the charges against him was ever proved (Dio, 68, 3, 2; 16, 2; SHA, Hadr., 5ff.). At the same time, if one reviews the precarious career of this family over the

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course of these several decades, one is repeatedly struck by their lack of action and by the paralysis of will habitual in most Imperial dissidents—a constant effect of prolonged dissimulatio. The only exception to this (and even that in a limited sense) among the members of the Crassi clan may have been the unfortunate short-lived Caesar, Piso Licinianus. Against such a background, it is perhaps no accident that the most enterprising person of the whole lot was, in the end, an imposter. As with the no less notorious Eprius Marcellus, Aquilius Regulus’ fortunes were not without their sudden turns. Feared as he was—despite his rank of a mere ex-quaestor (cf. Tac. Hist., 4, 42)—he himself was seriously imperiled and faced the prospect of retribution during the abortive Vespasianic “thaw” of the winter of AD 70, when Licinius Mucianus governed the capital in the name of the new emperor and the senators attempted an impeachment campaign against the chief Neronian informers (see pp. 181ff.). Early in his reign, Vespasian, for political reasons, styled himself the avenger of Galba, and a suggestion to honor his memory was made in the Senate by Domitian Caesar himself (ibid., 40; cf. Suet. Gal., 23), at that time serving as the city praetor. This proposal was seized upon by Curtius Montanus (presumably, the surviving poetfriend of Thrasea Paetus), who made a similar motion in regard to Piso Licinianus (Tac., loc. cit.), murdered and officially disgraced at the same time as his Imperial adoptive father. The idea was enthusiastically welcomed by the senators and both bills passed, but we are told that the provision about Piso Licinianus was never implemented. It may well have been that Licinius Mucianus silently blocked its enforcement owing to the recent trouble involving Antonius Primus and Crassus Scribonianus, the elder brother of the man now to be honored. At the same time, one suspects deeper causes and interests operating behind these proceedings: some far-reaching design may have motivated Curtius Montanus’ proposal. He and his supporters seem to have been preparing an authoritative framework for the indictment of Aquilius Regulus, whose enmity with the Crassi in general, and with Piso Licinianus in particular, was a matter of common knowledge, and whose alleged desecration of the latter’s corpse was already widely rumored. If Piso Licinianus were officially honored by the new regime, Aquilius Regulus would be placed in a situation where no one, not even Licinius Mucianus or Domitian, would be able to help him. On the other hand, Aquilius Regulus’ fall, not unlike the desired impeachment of that other source of senatorial odium, Eprius Marcellus, would have precipitated a chain reaction leading to the ruin of the rest of the bloody Neronian informers—an outcome that the multi bonique hoped for most eagerly. Despite only partial success in his preparatory measures, Curtius Montanus chose to proceed with the prosecution of Aquilius Regulus, supported by a plea for vengeance from Sulpicia Praetextata, the widow of the younger Crassus Frugi, and her four children (Tac. Hist., 4, 42). As recorded by Tacitus, Curtius Montanus’ attack was a powerful one, intelligently conceived and well executed. Reminding his audience of his enemy’s rumored treatment of the severed head of Piso Licinianus, the orator stressed the gratuitous character of that outrage: “Certainly, Nero did not force

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you to do this, and you were not compelled to secure, by means of such savagery, your status or welfare” (ibid.). The characteristic remark implies that the senatorial audience may have been prepared to condone those who were forced to turn informers out of self-preservation, blackmailed into it by the authorities and by threats to their families. The point is further emphasized in the very next sentence: “Let us prudently tolerate the defense of those who have preferred to ruin others rather than imperil themselves.” But this is then contrasted with the circumstances of the young Aquilius Regulus, who embarked on his noxious career even though he had nothing to lose. Consequently, Curtius Montanus postulates the unworthiest of motives for his opponent’s exercise of his talent—a thirst for blood and a desire for selfaggrandizement. The charges accumulate in a rhetorical crescendo: “From the very burial of the commonwealth you snatched the consular spoils, you fattened yourself on the receipt of seven million sesterces, and beaming with a priesthood, you precipitated towards the same end innocent boys, illustrious old men and women” (ibid.). The delator was further charged with the incitement of Nero’s cruelty by his insistence that, instead of the gradual and tiresome decimation of the noble clans one by one, the whole Senate be abolished by Imperial fiat—an idea which calls to mind other reports of Nero’s paranoid hatred of that body as an entity on the eve of his downfall. A piece of rhetorical sarcasm then follows: Aquilius Regulus should be saved for the curia to serve as a role model for the young in the same way that the odious Vibius Crispus and Eprius Marcellus were imitated by the previous generation. In Tacitus’ version, Curtius Montanus’ moralistic coda concealed a political edge, a warning both to the new regime and to his fellow senators: “Wickedness, even unsuccessful, provokes rivalry; what happens if it is allowed to flourish and prosper?” (ibid.). If a wicked man of so low a rank is immune to impeachment because of their lack of courage, he will be indestructible upon reaching a higher office. Nero was by no means the last of the tyrants, the orator is made to add, and, even though there is nothing to fear from the venerable Vespasian, “examples [of evil] last longer than characters [of men].” Curtius Montanus ends with a desperate, though predictably conservative, appeal to senatorial dignity and the mos maiorum: “We languish, conscript fathers, and this Senate is no more that which upon Nero’s death cried out that his informers and henchmen should be punished in accordance with ancestral customs. The best day after a bad Emperor is the first” (ibid.). This last remark sounds like an authentic epigram. It makes a wistful conclusion to the argument, and—despite the uncertainty still existing at this point concerning the outcome of the debate—an implicit acknowledgement of defeat. It is unclear whether Curtius Montanus’ attack on Aquilius Regulus was deliberately coordinated with Helvidius Priscus’ subsequent move against Eprius Marcellus, since the language of the Historiae in regard to the causal link between the episodes is ambivalent: “With so much approval was Montanus listened to by the Senate, that Helvidius conceived a hope that he may crush even Marcellus” (4, 43). In any event, Tacitus apparently wants his reader to believe that Aquilius Regulus owed

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his rescue, at least in part, to the timely intervention (ibid., 42; cf. Dial., 15) of his stepbrother M.Vipstanus Messalla, a young man not yet of senatorial age (Hist., 4, 42) who a year earlier held only the office of military tribune (ibid., 3, 9). It is specified, however, that Vipstanus Messalla made no answer to the charges nor tried to justify the accused (ibid., 4, 42)—one wonders what, then, he might have said—but that he moved some men in the curia by his mere readiness to support a relative in a moment of need. Vipstanus Messalla, of distinguished paternal line, clearly identified with the conservative and moralist cause championed by those upon whom his half-brother preyed in his search for potential victims. Tacitus much admired men of this stamp: he knew Vipstanus Messalla personally, made him an interlocutor in his Dialogus de Oratoribus, and portrayed his character there and elsewhere in favorable colors (e.g., Hist., 3, 9), so that he appears the opposite of the infamous delator. However, it seems that the spectacle of the one speaking publicly on behalf of the other, that is, the paragon of virtue defending the perpetrator of evil, caused no embarrassment to Tacitus or his public. Indeed, it very likely would not have constituted in their eyes another instance of hypocrisy or dissimulatio, but would have been taken as an admirable display of the old-fashioned pietas as regards family ties, now no longer considered sacred by many, and proof of their primacy over political alignments (cf. Hist., 4, 42). Still, however favorably Vipstanus Messalla may have impressed his audience, the initiatives of both Curtius Montanus and Helvidius Priscus stood no chance of success. At this strategically most precarious moment, when the mood of the different divisions of the Western armies was still wavering, when uneasy tensions were accumulating in the capital, when he himself was engaged in rivalry with Antonius Primus, a skilful politician of the caliber of Licinius Mucianus was capable of sacrificing insignificant characters like Egnatius Celer or Antistius Sosianus, but not the formidable Aquilius Regulus—who lived in prosperity till his death—or the resilient Eprius Marcellus. To do so would have meant to release forces that could threaten him, and, by extension, even Vespasian, with loss of control over the further development of events. VI We know that Nero was extremely unwilling to return from his Greek journey, even though the political situation had deteriorated and the emperor was clearly needed in the capital. To one of Helius’ urgent messages to that effect (cf. Dio, 63, 19, 1) Nero is said to have characteristically replied: “Even though this may be now your advice and your prayer that I return quickly, you ought to advise me better and desire that I return worthy of Nero” (Suet. Nero, 23)—meaning, of course, when he had achieved his artistic and athletic victories in Greece. It is to Helius’ credit, and a sign of his attention to his responsibilities, that he went so far as to travel to Greece in person in order to persuade the reluctant emperor to return (Dio, 63, 19, 1ff.). He succeeded only after frightening Nero with the report “that a great conspiracy against him was afoot in Rome.” Most probably, this report

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was a bluff, designed specifically to make the emperor at last address matters of state; of the alleged conspiracy nothing further is known. Alternatively, Helius may have obtained early indications of subversive activities leading to the revolt that was soon to break out in Gaul. In any event, Nero embarked for Italy at once. To the dismay of many—for some of whom, Dio tells us (ibid., 2), “the very fact that they prayed and hoped that he might perish furnished a motive for their destruction”—the emperor escaped a violent storm at sea and arrived safely in Italy at some point in December AD 67, though not later than the end of the month. By this time, Nero’s relationship with the Senate had reached its lowest point. Reportedly, he often threatened (perhaps half-jokingly) to do away with it and to transfer the government of the Empire to the equestrians and the freedmen (Suet. Nero, 37; cf. 43). It was during his tour that, cut off from routine intercourse with it, he appears to have recognized the full measure of the accumulated detestation he felt for that body (cf. Dio, 63, 15, 1), feelings that were no doubt mutual. Not surprisingly, he is said to have been particularly amused when his jester/parasite, P.Vatinius, would tease him by saying: “I hate you, Caesar, for being of senatorial rank!” (ibid.). More significant, he omitted mention of the Senate in the official prayer at the opening of the works at the Isthmus (Suet. Nero, 37). Upon his arrival in Rome he refused, in a pointed gesture, to greet formally the senators—a refusal amounting to a “renunciation of friendship” with the entire senatorial order. Nero’s entrance into the city travestied both the traditional military procession and sacred rites: he passed through the breached wall acting out a Greek olympionikos and a Roman triumphator, hailed as Hercules and Apollo by his claque and the enthralled populace (Suet. Nero, 35; cf. Dio, 63, 20). At the close of the ceremonies, the emperor is said by Dio (63, 21, 1) to have announced a series of horse-races, in which he himself was to take part as charioteer. A fitting anecdote concludes Dio’s account (ibid., 2). He reports that a certain [A.] Larcius [Lydus] from Lydia offered the emperor one million sesterces for a show of lyre-playing. The idea proved illconceived. If the story is authentic, this wealthy, though less than intelligent, gentleman must have intended to ingratiate himself with Nero and pay him an exquisite compliment by appraising his talents at such a huge sum of money. However, as occasionally happened, the excessive adulatio backfired: Nero took the offer as an offense—by no means a surprising response, given the traditional GraecoRoman contempt for any type of paid labor. Larcius is said to have barely escaped with his life. He was threatened with the death penalty, the charge against him presumably being that of maiestas, a deliberate slight on the emperor, that is, the direct opposite of the man’s real intent. His salvation came only through his bribery of Tigellinus, to whom he had to pay, ironically, the very same sum of a million sesterces that he had offered to hear the Imperial musician. Little is known of Nero’s activities between his return to Rome in December AD 67 and the proclamation of Vindex in the second week of March AD 68. He was perhaps largely preoccupied with the preparations for the Neronia III scheduled for the coming year. The business of governing, meanwhile, proceeded as usual. The consuls

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took up their offices: one of the two ordinarii was, curiously, the poet Tib. Catius Asconius Silius Italicus, an admirer of Vergil (Plin. Epist., 3, 7) and the future author of the Punica (who did not, however, despite his lofty intellectual interests, hesitate to play at some earlier time the informer (ibid.)); while one of the several suffecti was Cingonius Varro, shortly to be the é minence grise behind the abortive coup of Nymphidius Sabinus (see p. 237). Furthermore, the consuls were already designated for the year ahead, AD 69, which was to witness the succession of four emperors. Among these appointments— and this was, of course, a sign of Nero’s trust in him—was the amazing A.Marius Celsus (Tac. Hist., 1, 14, 77), the ideal “loyalist,” and most consistent (or inconsistent—to men like him it amounted to much the same thing) of them all. An important military officer under Domitius Corbulo (Tac. Ann., 15, 25) and an admirer of the last republicanists (Plut. Otho, 13), Marius Celsus would remain fiercely loyal to Galba till the very end (Tac. Hist., 1, 14, 71; Plut. Gal., 27; Dio, 64, 5, 1), then consent to become counsellor, general, and amicus to Otho (Tac. Hist., 1, 14, 71; cf. Plut. Otho, 1), manage to preserve his consulship upon Otho’s death under Vitellius (Tac. Hist., 2, 60, 12), and finally be appointed governor of Germany and then governor of Syria by Vespasian. Both romantic and cynical explanations of his motives are available: either he acted out of old-f ashioned commitment to the service of the commonwealth, irrespective of the personality of the man in charge; or he acted out of sheer and unabashed opportunism—a constant need of dissimulatio clearly caused him no moral concerns. We do not hear of any further political harassment directed against individual citizens until the outbreak of the crisis. In fact, it appears that Nero’s misguided admirer Larcius—a “dissident by misadventure”—was the last known to us whose life was endangered by his “tyranny of art”: the clock was ticking, and only a few months were left before the emperor met his doom.

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6 THE YEAR OF REVOLUTION

I The final catastrophe, known as the “The War over Nero”—Bellum Neronis, was a complex and obscure development. Multiple factors conspired to precipitate the event—social, economic, and military, and, most ostensibly, the fiscal crisis linked to Nero’s ambitious projects of Eastern conquest. All of this, however, remaining as it is beyond the framework of the present investigation, has been thoroughly elucidated by recent scholarship. As regards our immediate concerns, no general pronouncement can be made on the role of dissident sentiments and dissident activities in the upheaval. However, there was resentment of the provincials against the increased procuratorial harassment (cf. Tac. Ann., 15, 45; Dio, 63, 22). Plutarch tells us that “the nefarious agents of Nero savagely and cruelly harried the provinces” (Gal., 4), where many innocents “were being condemned in court and sold into slavery.” We know that, at least in Spain, scurrilous anti-Neronian verses were openly circulated and sung—a sign of popular displeasure condoned by the governor, Galba (ibid.). One might suspect clandestine exchanges between various other governors, frightened by the recent decimation of their ranks, but we are told, on the contrary, that with the exception of Galba they all obligingly reported to Nero on the seditious missives sent to each by the instigator of the Gallic revolt. While this was obviously done as an outward proof of loyalty on the part of the governors, it tells us little about their inner thoughts or true intentions. As Plutarch aptly remarks, they “did all they could to ruin the enterprise of Vindex; and yet afterwards they took part in it, and thus confessed that they had been false to themselves no less than to Vindex” (ibid.). This was the closest a Greek could come to understanding the mechanics of Roman political dissimulatio. The psychology of the military presented a paradox. On the one hand, the army is often portrayed by our authorities as a source of political corruption. On the other hand, however, it was believed still to possess some residue of the ancient virtues, a view supported by the upright personal conduct of men like the praetorian conspirators, Subrius Flavus and Sulpicius Asper. So long as the government inspired fear and was deemed capable of maintaining the status quo, any dissident members of

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the army command were reluctantly compelled to dissemble. Their dissimulatio broke down, however, with the eventual recognition that Nero was no longer able to handle the crisis. This same realization was no doubt responsible also for the rapid shift of popular attitudes from indifference or favor in regard to Nero to outright hostility (Suet. Nero, 45). A number of dissidents, suddenly liberated from self-imposed restraints, flung themselves into passionate political struggle, their energies released in violent acts. Some succeeded in coming to prominence; others overreached themselves and perished. This, however, is a subject for a separate inquiry centering on the events of the civil war of AD 68–9, with Tacitus’ Historiae as a chief source. This was the time when individual political activities reached their peak, but it falls beyond the chronological boundaries of the present study. Our authorities are most inadequate in regard to the Gallic revolt of early AD 68 which, though put down, set in motion the forces that toppled Nero. Only a late and untrustworthy source (Joann. Antioch. fr. 91M) briefly records the complicity of several anonymous senatorial exiles. Presumably the masses were drawn into the turbulence by Gallic chiefs and local magnates (cf. Jos. Bell. Iud., 4, 440) who had been harassed economically and politically by Nero’s agents. The originator of the Gallic revolt, C.Julius Vindex, cuts a mysterious figure. Neither his motives nor his goals are easy to ascertain. Our sources say that he descended from the family of native chieftains that received Roman citizenship probably in the time of Julius Caesar and were admitted by Claudius to the Senate. Vindex was apparently a man of forceful personality. In Dio’s words, he possessed “shrewd intelligence” and “vast ambition,” manifest in his impressive career which culminated in the governorship of one of the three Gallic provinces. As for his “love of freedom,” which Dio also stresses, the phrase did not signify any republicanist sentiment. For the nobility of the time, “freedom” meant freedom of independent action and political initiative. It is certainly tempting to view the uprising in Gaul, led by such a character, as a separatist and nationalist movement. This would fit the pattern of the earlier revolt of Iulius Florus and Iulius Sacrovir under Tiberius (cf. Tac. Ann., 3, 40ff.; 4, 18ff.), and, possibly, that of the later movement of Iulius Civilis and Iulius Classicus under the Flavians (cf. Hist., 4, 32ff.; 5, 14ff.) aimed at the creation of an Imperium Galliarum (ibid., 4, 58)—an entity covering all Gallic provinces. However, the numismatic evidence leaves no doubt that this view is wrong despite the occurrence of other nationalistic movements in the Neronian age, such as in Britain and in Judaea. The insurrection of Vindex was not anti-Roman, but anti-Neronian and anti-tyrannical, and as such it was fraught with “constitutionalist” and moralistic rhetoric. The insurgents’ coinage reveals the consistently “Augustan” character of their propaganda. Their issues of the type SALUS GENERIS HUMANI and PACI AUGUSTAE were closely related to the type used by Augustus himself and later by Claudius during the most emphatically “constitutionalist” stage of his rule. Other forms of propaganda practiced by the rebels and their leader concentrated on sharp criticism of Nero’s

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public and private conduct, thereby responding to the sentiments of conservative dissidents, both in the upper classes and in the army, as well as to the spirit of Augustus’ official program of moral regeneration. Dio’s rendering of Vindex’s major address to his followers may not deviate much in substance from what was actually said, despite later embellishments sounding suspiciously like those ascribed by the same historian to the fierce barbarian Queen Boudicca. This was, after all, not a wild assembly of British hordes where such a style of delivery would be wholly out of context, but a gathering of civilized and Romanized provincials for whose consumption the theme of Nero’s depravities would itself have suggested the manner of treatment. It is not surprising, then, that the emperor is drawn by Vindex as vice incarnate. Nero is said to have “despoiled the whole Roman world, because he has destroyed all the flower of their senate, because he debauched and then killed his mother, and does not preserve even the semblance of sovereignty” (Dio, 63, 22, 2ff.). Nero’s theatrics and histrionics are predictably emphasized, so that the orator can end with an appeal to his audience: “Will anyone, then, style such a person Caesar and emperor and Augustus? Never! Let no one abuse those sacred Titles…. Therefore rise now at length against him; succour yourselves and succour the Romans; liberate the entire world” (ibid.). We learn of another instance of Vindex’s “constitutionalism” from Zonaras’ (11, 13) epitome of Dio’s narrative: “And he made them swear to do everything in the interest of the Senate and the Roman people and to slay him in case he should do anything contrary to this purpose.” It is impossible to penetrate further the workings of Vindex’s own mind or the dynamics of his dissimulatio. Fear may well have been among his main motives. It is tempting to speculate that he was summoned by Nero to Greece on account of the Scribonian affair (see p. 200), and that a narrow escape from danger made him conceive an insurrection. Our authorities agree that he claimed as his official goal the replacement of Nero by someone else worthier of supreme power who would rule the Empire in accordance with Augustan tradition. Being a Gaul, Vindex could not entertain the slightest hope of seizing the emperorship for himself. Such a move would have been tolerated neither by the army nor by the Senate. Accordingly, he chose Galba as a fitting candidate and thus largely secured the eventual success of the enterprise (cf. Plut. Gal., 5). Judging by what little we know of the rebels’ propaganda, Vindex’s own role seems to have been intentionally limited. His name does not appear on any coins, and it is only speculation that the legend HERCULES ADSERTOR may have referred personally to him. On the other hand, the very scarcity of data on this man and his activities makes this traditional picture of him somewhat suspect. It is surprising that so few scholars have actually asked just what role Vindex could have envisaged for himself in the event of victory. It does not seem likely that he would have imitated the ancient Cincinnatus and applied for retirement. No certain details are known to us regarding his agreement with Galba or his alleged negotiations with Verginius Rufus. About this last, however, we do possess one

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remarkable bit of information, though it is found in the least reliable of Dio’s epitomators, Ioannes of Antioch: But Rufus, not venturing to engage in battle with Galba, came to terms and made a compact with Vindex, in which he chose to rule the Gauls himself and agreed that Spain should belong to Vindex and that Galba should receive all Italy together with the remaining provinces that owed allegiance to the Roman Empire. (fr. 91M) This story has been attacked by modern scholars as the epitomator’s fiction on the grounds of sheer improbability. It is reasonably asked why Vindex would prefer to rule Spain or Verginius Rufus exchange Germany for Gaul, and how Galba, if he was not completely inept, could agree to such an arrangement. Furthermore, even the historicity of Vindex’s conference with Verginius Rufus is debatable, and Ioannes of Antioch was so confused that he formed a fictional character, Gallus Rufus, out of two historical figures, Verginius Rufus and Rubrius Gallus. Yet all these objections do not prove that his version of the events is entirely fabricated. First, it has been argued persuasively that Byzantine epitomators never invented. Often only semi-literate, they could easily misconceive or misunderstand or misrepresent the original source, but hardly produce a whole story out of nothing. The compound personage of Gallus Rufus is an excellent example of just such misrepresentation. But if we assume that the narrative of Ioannes of Antioch does in fact contain an element of truth, however misconstrued, the balance of power in the rebels’ ranks is momentarily clarified. The alleged role of Verginius Rufus will be treated later, but for now, since Galba and Vindex must have arrived at some sort of mutually beneficial arrangement, common sense dictates that Vindex secured his own share of power. In this case Vindex may well have envisaged for himself control over some vast territories—Gaul being a natural choice, thus reviving the tradition of the Triumvirs and foreshadowing the powerful magnates of the late second century. If so, this was a grand design reaching far beyond the framework of senatorial politics. It may not, after all, be entirely accidental that, out of all the Neronian dissidents, the one man who proved himself most pragmatic and energetic was not even a Roman, but a Gaul. From the insistence of our authorities on Nero’s lack of initiative against Vindex it has been inferred that he may have been expecting the Rhine armies to move against Vindex without issuing their commanders a special order to do so. If such was the case, this position was singularly short-sighted, especially given the suspicious behavior of Galba, the governor of neighboring Spain. At the same time, the emperor evidently considered the two commanders of the German troops his obedient creatures, and possibly with justification. Both were men of low origin chosen by Nero to replace their high-born predecessors, and on these grounds alone they could reasonably have been expected to remain loyal to the emperor. Certainly Nero’s trust in the legate of Lower Germany, Fonteius Capito, consul ordinarius of AD 67, was not

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misplaced. He remained loyal to the “artistic tyrant” till the very end and was soon executed by Galba (Tac. Hist., 1, 7; Suet. Gal., 11; Plut. Gal., 5), either for that very loyalty or for his own poorly dissimulated aspirations to the purple, implied, without much detail, in our sources (cf. Tac., loc. cit.; Suet., loc. cit.) and reflected in an anecdote reported by Dio (64, 2, 2): “Capito…when one day a man appealed a case from his jurisdiction, changed his seat to a high chair and then said: ‘Now plead your case before Caesar.’ He then passed sentence and put the man to death.” Tacitus cites an alternative version, denying Fonteius Capito any subversive or revolutionary intent and portraying him as a victim of intrigue by his subordinates— Iulius Burdo, the chief of the German fleet (Hist., 58), and two legion commanders, Fabius Valens and Cornelius Aquinus, “who were urging him to start war and having failed to compel him to it, invented a crime of treachery to charge him with” (ibid., 7). But it was Fonteius Capito’s colleague on the Upper Rhine, L.Verginius Rufus, who in fact moved against the Gallic rebels. II The events that took place near Vesontio at some point between mid-April and late May of AD 68 belong to the most debated issues in the political history of the early Empire. This may well have been one of those historical moments where much depended on chance. Arguably, had the battle occurred several weeks earlier, that is, before Galba openly sided with the rebels, it might even have rescued, at least for a time, the Neronian regime. According to the popular version, the battle broke out spontaneously, against the wishes of the respective commanders, Vindex and Verginius Rufus, who were forced by their armies, as Plutarch’s simile has it, “like charioteers, who had lost control of the reins, into the crash” (Gal., 6). Dio—Xiphilinus informs us that when the armies confronted each other near the town of Vesontio, their leaders began negotiations and even held a private conference to coordinate their efforts (63, 24, 2). This account, and the conference episode in particular, may be challenged on various grounds, but if accepted, it implies that at that point Verginius Rufus had already made his own decision to turn against Nero. Consequently, the subsequent tragic debacle is attributed by Dio to a misunderstanding: After this Vindex set out with his army ostensibly to occupy the town; and the soldiers of Rufus, becoming aware of their approach and thinking the force was marching straight against them, marched out in their turn, on their own initiative, and, falling upon them while they were off their guard and in disarray, cut down great numbers of them. Vindex on seeing this was so overcome by grief that he slew himself. (ibid., 3)

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The rebel leader is said to have been mourned by Verginius Rufus (ibid., 25, 1). The enigma of Verginius Rufus’ conduct is made worse by “that divine and immortal deed” (Plin. Epist., 6, 10)—his famous rejection of Imperial power three times during AD 68–9. He is said to have been saluted as emperor by his legions at Vesontio (Plut. Gal., 6; cf. Dio, 63, 25, 1; cf. Tac. Hist., 1, 8), and urged to accept the title at the battle’s conclusion. We know the name of at least one of the officers, Pedanius Costa, who pushed him to move against the emperor (Tac. Hist., 2, 71). Dio mentions (63, 25) that the soldiers cast down Nero’s images and added the Imperial names “Caesar” and “Augustus” to Verginius Rufus’ standards. The general, however, ordered the epithets erased and vehemently declined the honor. The same offer was thrust on him once again at the news of Nero’s death, this time, reportedly, in a rather hysterical manner: “One of the military tribunes in his tent drew his sword and ordered Verginius to choose between Imperial power and the steel” (Plut. Gal., 10). It was met, theatrics notwithstanding, with yet another refusal (ibid.). Finally, a year later, upon Otho’s suicide, the general was pressed a third time to assume the supreme power (Tac. Hist., 2, 51), but escaped through a rear door when the tumultuous soldiers carrying their request to him broke into his house (ibid.; cf. Plut. Otho, 18). Although from a psychological viewpoint the two issues—Verginius Rufus’ fateful oscillations between two causes and his avoidance of the Imperial office—are intimately linked, I will treat them separately, taking up first the second question, which allows greater room for rational analysis. Verginius Rufus def ended his stand with an attack on the incipient practice of an emperor’s appointment by the army: “[He] declared that he would neither assume the imperial power himself, nor allow it to be given to anyone else whom the Senate did not elect” (Plut. Gal., 6; cf. Dio, 63, 25, 3). True to his word, he persevered until Galba’s official proclamation by the decree of the Senate (Plut. Gal., 10), and only then, with the help of the enterprising legionary legate Fabius Valens, compelled his soldiers to swear allegiance to the new emperor (ibid.; cf. Tac. Hist., 1, 8). In appearance, this was a strictly “constitutionalist” course of action, quite compatible with the symbolism and vocabulary employed not only by Vindex but also by Galba, who even styled himself initially “the legate of the Roman Senate and people.” At the same time, one must take into account the force of circumstances, and the operations of the rhetoricized mentality. Verginius Rufus was hampered by a number of factors working against his prospects for attaining the Imperial power. Of these, the most formidable was his origin: he came from an undistinguished family in the Italian municipality of Mediolanum. It was evident that the Senate at this stage would not be reconciled to any emperor who sprang from the lower order. In the Historiae, Tacitus has one of his characters, the preposterous Fabius Valens, state this point bluntly: “Verginius, [he said], hesitated not without reason—on account of his equestrian family and of his obscure father, he will be unequal to the Imperial power if he accepts it, but secure, if he rejects” (1, 52). The ancient prejudice against the homo novus still held true, even though by this time Verginius Rufus had already served as consul

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ordinarius of AD 63 (Tac. Ann., 15, 23) together with the venerable Memmius Regulus as a colleague. In addition, he lacked the abilities and stamina of Vespasian, also from non-senatorial origin, who a year later would accept that which the hero of Vesontio had refused. By that moment, however, the Senate and people of Rome, after a year of hardships and atrocities worked by civil bloodshed, felt prepared to accept a ruler of whatever extraction, provided that he was successful in restoring peace. Since Verginius Rufus had little chance at any successful usurpation, it is not surprising that he looked for a different precedent. As it happened, a very celebrated one was still to be found within living memory. In AD 14, during the first weeks of Tiberius’ reign (Tac. Ann., 1, 34ff.), Germanicus Caesar had refused—also at sword point—the purple offered to him by the mutinous German legions. Verginius Rufus realized that he could scarcely hope to gain the same degree of power as a member of the dynasty. Instead he chose to secure for himself comparable glory by imitating in minute detail, out of the peculiarly Roman respect for precedent, the behavior of his illustrious predecessor. Even in those times of crisis the appeal of such a non-material stimulus reminiscent of ancestral practices was considerable for a politician of Verginius Rufus’ social status, avid for recognition by the conservative senatorial majority. The alternative view—that Verginius Rufus simply lacked ambition—evidently enjoyed little credence among his contemporaries. The record of the three-time offer of the emperorship despite his stubborn resistance speaks eloquently of the existimatio in which he was held, and of the public expectations entertained on his behalf. These expectations were shared not only by those under his immediate command. We hear that the general was also approached by representatives of the legions that Nero had transferred from Illyricum to Italy (Tac. Hist., 1, 34ff.), and there exists an inscription allowing a glimpse into the minds of ordinary men ignorant of psychological and political complexities, and testifying to their belief in the general—an inscription dedicated by a certain Pylades to Jupiter that offers thanksgiving “for the welfare and victory of Verginius Rufus” (ILS, 982). But these external circumstances remain insufficient to account for Verginius Rufus’ role at Vesontio, where he could have chosen either to fight the rebels or to join them, and did neither. The view, favorable to him, that he was coerced by his army into the battle with Vindex, or that this battle resulted from a misunderstanding, does not stand close scrutiny. As has been persuasively argued, it is highly improbably that the soldiers, at this early stage of the civil war, were uncontrollable to this degree. That Verginius Rufus chose to mention the Vindex affair openly in his self-composed epitaph, but only insofar as to allude there to his refusal of supreme power, betrays his desire to secure for posterity a positive interpretation of his performance at Vesontio. As reported by the younger Pliny (Epist., 9, 19), this epitaph ran:

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hic situs est Rufus, pulso qui Vindice quondam, imperium adseruit non sibi sed patriae (Rufus is buried here, who, Vindex having been defeated, restored the Empire—to the fatherland, not to himself) The rules of Latin syntax make this text nearly as ambiguous as its author’s historical behavior. This reintroduces the matter of Verginius Rufus’ original motives in his choice to make no choice, even though at the moment it threatened him with the loss of both political and military prestige. Such a failure in resolution can be explained as the familiar effect of entrenched dissimulatio, the dissident paralysis of will. Very likely Verginius Rufus conceived of himself as at once a loyalist and a revolutionary, making any further considerations subservient to this basic dilemma, be it fear of rivalry or concern about public response, moral commitment or political foresight, desire for power or sense of glory. In short, seen in such a perspective, the case of Verginius Rufus represents the mirror-image of another Rufus, Faenius, the Pisonian conspirator and praetorian prefect. One can speculate that an individual under this kind of existential strain, when the alternatives facing him are equally disastrous, opts for neither of them. In Faenius Rufus, this conspired with factors beyond his control to effect his ruin. Verginius Rufus proved more fortunate: his non-action, rooted in very much the same sort of mental impasse, was so conveniently justifiable in traditionalist, or “constitutionalist,” terms that it earned him greater glory than any active measure he could have taken. An epistle written by the younger Pliny, a friend and ardent admirer of Verginius Rufus, makes palpable the sense of ambiguity implicit in the latter’s career and reputation. Pliny recalls a conversation he once heard between the aged general and the historian Cluvius Rufus, a former Neronian opportunist, who said at one point: “You know, Verginius, that truthfulness is required from history. I beg you to forgive me if you read in my histories things you would not like.” To which Verginius Rufus replied: “Cluvius, don’t you know that I did what I did in order that the rest of you would feel free to write as you please?” (Epist., 9, 19). In his rejoinder Verginius Rufus was defending not only his triple rejection of the Imperial power, but his attempt to maneuver between Nero, Vindex, and Galba. Interpreted in this way, his statement would signal that he wanted people to think of him as influenced by circumstances, yet managing not to compromise his integrity. However, the mere fact of this exchange presumes that there were circulating at least two versions of the events at Vesontio: one acceptable to Verginius Rufus and championed by his friends, and another selected by Cluvius Rufus, who thought it might displease the protagonist. This second version, eclipsed by the prominence of the first, may have stressed Verginius Rufus’ loyalty, or, for that matter, his perfidy, to Nero. Perhaps it dwelled on the general’s frustrated ambitions, or emphasized his incompetence and the disastrous effects of his passive stand.

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None of these themes could be conveniently handled by the version friendly to Verginius Rufus. Indeed, it must have been no less awkward to celebrate his victory over Vindex, the potential destroyer of the tyrant, than his defection from Nero, to whom he had sworn the oath of allegiance. This issue had, then, either to be obscured as far as possible, or replaced with the glory of the great man’s three-time rejection of the emperorship—“that divine and immortal deed.” This last was duly appreciated by Tacitus: “No one has been imperilled so often by every riot as Verginius; fame of the man and admiration for him endured, but he was hated by the soldiery for having spurned them” (Hist. 2, 66). The praise is predictable: not only was Tacitus a close acquaintance of Verginius Rufus, but he even delivered the formal eulogy at his funeral (Plin. Epist., 2, 1), which suggests the return of some beneficium. We will never know whether Verginius Rufus in fact entertained designs of seizing at least some share of government. If the passage I quoted from Ioannes of Antioch can be trusted even partially, Verginius Rufus may well have toyed with the idea for a time. Be that as it may, by his conduct at Vesontio he compromised himself in various quarters, such as the supporters of both Galba and Nero, others who may have seen in him a potential strongman to end the crisis, and, to some extent, even his own troops. His further career was but a series of disappointments. Galba, fearing him, under a pretext of gratitude recalled him (Tac. Hist., 1, 8) from his German command without any tangible reward (cf. Dio, 63, 29, 5), and it is even rumored that he was threatened with a trial (ibid.). Eventually, he fell into disfavor with Galba’s associate, T.Vinius Rufinus, who sought to force him out of the political scene altogether. About this episode Plutarch, not without melancholy, observes that this rival in fact aided Verginius Rufus’ good fortune, “removing him from all the wars and miseries which encompassed the other leaders, and bringing him into a calm haven of life, and an old age full of peace and quiet” (Gal., 10). Plutarch’s comment, however, was premature. After Galba’s downfall, a second (suffect) consulship—said to have been “a sop to the German troops” (Tac. Hist., 1, 77), but testifying to his continued influence with them—was thrust upon him by Otho, whose death was followed by the third offer of the Imperial title. Upon his refusal, Verginius Rufus for a time was lionized by Vitellius but, instead of a more substantial reward, barely escaped another charge of conspiracy (ibid., 2, 68). Verginius Rufus apparently spent the Flavian years in retirement, during which, in the words of the younger Pliny, he “lived on, and read verses written about himself, as well as histories, as if witnessing his own fame with posterity” (Epist., 2, 1). He received his third consulate from Nerva in AD 97 and died in the same year. He was honored with a state funeral (ibid.) as a sign of appreciation of his achievements—or rather, of their absence. It is one of history’s many ironies that this man’s “apophatic” role had such an impact on the events surrounding the fall of Nero and the ensuing civil war. Standing in stark contrast to the perpetual inertia of Verginius Rufus were the fervent, if incoherent, activities of L.Clodius Macer, the legate of Numidia and commander of the sole legion stationed in Northern Africa and one of the very first to seize the

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opportunity offered by the outbreak of the crisis and embark on a private political adventure. The evidence on Clodius Macer is tantalizingly scarce and much confused. The man clearly belonged to the restless and ruthless pauci et validi, as follows both from his turbulent enterprise and from Plutarch’s brisk unflattering remark (Gal., 6) that his “cruelty and greed led him into robberies and murders.” Clodius Macer launched a mutiny of his own upon hearing the news of Vindex’s insurrection in Gaul, while Nero was still in power. He is said to have taken an “independent course of action” (ibid.), which seems to mean that he did not seek to ally himself with any other insurrectionist force. Instead, he recruited auxiliary cohorts on the spot (presumably comprising what his coins call LEGIO I MACRIANA), suggesting some support for him on the part of the local populace. He captured Carthage and apparently had designs on Sicily. Plutarch states that Clodius Macer “was clearly in a strait where he could neither retain nor give up his command.” Although he indeed faced a choice, his position was strategically advantageous. As virtual ruler of Africa, he had a grip on the corn supply and could create a bread shortage in Rome merely by cutting off sea communications. And this he did, in the hope that hunger riots in the capital would topple Nero’s government. About the immediate origin of Clodius Macer’s venture, we possess a singular and difficult piece of information. In Rome it was believed that his breach of loyalty to Nero and his subsequent attempt to block the city’s grain supply resulted from the intrigues of the notorious Calvia Crispinilla (see p. 318), who seems to have quarreled with her friend Nero and fled to Africa where she planned to strike back (Tac. Hist., 1, 73). It remains unclear what might have caused their falling-out: she belonged, after all, to Nero’s most intimate circle and even counted him as her disciple in lechery. Nor can we guess whether she acted in Africa on her own initiative or in collusion with someone else, such as Nymphidius Sabinus, whom she must have known well and who might already have entertained, even at that early stage, ambitious conspiratorial designs (see pp. 134f.). The one legitimate inference from Calvia Crispinilla’s journey is that she was already closely acquainted with Clodius Macer himself (which throws an interesting light on the latter’s possible earlier background at the court). For a time Clodius Macer’s strategy was effective. We hear of popular turbulence in the capital, blaming Nero for withholding grain (Suet. Nero, 45). But his refusal to comply with Galba after Nero’s death and his perpetuation of the grain embargo (cf. Plut. Gal., 13) was a folly. The idea of forcing the new emperor to surrender merely by the further threat of famine was unrealistic. His own military force, one or two legions in the distant overseas province, was clearly insufficient for any sustained resistance. Clodius Macer was successfully dealt with by the Imperial procurator, Trebonius Garutianus, who, on Galba’s orders, dispatched a centurion to kill him(Tac. Hist., 1, 7; cf. Plut. Gal., 15; Suet. Gal., 11). As an obituary of sorts, Tacitus observes in passing that, “Clodius Macer being murdered, Africa and the legion therein were pleased with any emperor after the experience of their own petty despot” (Hist., 1, 11);

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but in Rome he was considered by anti-Galba elements a victim of arbitrary tyranny, and Otho is made to remind his audience of that fact in his proclamation speech (ibid., 1, 37). As for Calvia Crispinilla, her role in Clodius Macer’s defiant stand against Galba is unclear. She must at some point have returned to Rome where Otho, at the risk of his own prestige, barely saved her from the mob that was prepared to lynch her (cf. ibid.). Later, she managed to restore both her reputation and her fortune by contracting a marriage with an ex-consul, whose name is unknown, and she is said to have achieved considerable influence owing to her childlessness and wealth (ibid.). In both its course and its outcome, Clodius Macer’s enterprise is curiously reminiscent of the equally ill-conceived and ill-fated abortive revolt of Gn. Calpurnius Piso under Tiberius in AD 19 (Tac. Ann., 2, 75ff.). Both cases involved important but not vital provinces, much noise and activity, military mobilizations and civil disobedience, followed by an almost immediate collapse. But the real peculiarity of the later affair, and of Clodius Macer as a dissident, lies in his ostensible political program, unmentioned by our written sources but revealed in his coinage which was remarkably abundant for the short term of his independent rule. Both the vocabulary and the symbolism of these coins are republicanist, and scarcely conform to what we know of Clodius Macer’s character and his usurpation of power. The discrepancy is indicative of the man’s abilities for dissimulatio. Technically the legate of a legion, that is, an Imperial appointee, Clodius Macer styled himself, as if he were still living in the pre-Augustan Republic, as “propraetor of Africa by the decree of the Senate” (although, most certainly, no such senatusconsultum was ever passed). We learn that he changed Legio III Augusta to Liberatrix, and lastly the figure of Liberty herself, with all proper attributes, appears on one side of the coin, with Clodius Macer’s own head on the obverse, though conspicuously without the laurel crown. This imagery and phraseology recall Galba’s initial propaganda in his capacity of self-proclaimed “legate of the Senate and the People of Rome,” before his official acceptance of the Imperial title. Clodius Macer may have intended with his own more emphatic public campaign to compete for a broader recognition with a more successful and powerful rival. If so, he fell victim to his failure to learn the historical lesson taught by the aftermath of Caligula’s murder and by Camillus Scribonianus’ fiasco two years later (another parallel to Clodius Macer’s own bungled coup)—that republicanist propaganda was in fact counter-productive. At the same time, his seems to have been the last recorded attempt to revive this kind of language and imagery for a political purpose. III Our sources agree (Suet. Nero, 42; Plut. Gal., 5; cf. Dio, 63, 27, 1; cf. Plin. NH, 37, 29) that the crucial event sparking Nero’s downfall was Galba’s proclamation of April 3, AD 68. After the initial shock—almost a dissident-like paralysis of will—the emperor shook himself from his lethargy and proceeded with belated emergency

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measures. By the end of April he had assumed sole consulship (Suet. Nero, 43), recalled troops from his projected Eastern campaigns, recruited a new legion from the Misenian fleet, which he had stationed in Northern Italy (ibid., 44; cf. Suet. Gal., 12, 2; Plut. Gal., 15, 3f.; Tac. Hist., 1, 6), and published an extraordinary edict enlisting into his troops a stated number of slaves from each household. Characteristically, Nero did not, however, himself lead the available armies against the insurgents. Instead he appointed a prominent collaborationist, Petronius Turpilianus, to take command, and at some later point dispatched an additional force under another general, Rubrius Gallus (Dio, 63, 27, 1). It is not surprising that the emperor panicked at the news of the revolt in Spain. In Ser. Sulpicius Galba, Nero faced, despite his advanced age of seventy (he was born on December 24, 3 BC), a formidable foe: not a newly enfranchised Gallic prince like Vindex, nor a petty military adventurer like Clodius Macer, but a member of an ancient aristocratic clan (cf. Suet. Gal., 2; Plut. Gal., 3)—in fact, one of the few surviving families of the great republican magnates—claiming to trace family descent from Jupiter himself (Suet., loc. cit.) and in terms of past honors only slightly less illustrious (cf. ibid., 3) than the ruling Julio-Claudian dynasty. At the same time Galba enjoyed—and exploited—some connection to the Imperial family. Plutarch (Gal., 5, 14; cf. Suet. Gal., 5) makes him distantly related—most likely through his stepmother, Livia Ocellina—to Livia Augusta. This Imperial lady had revealed an uncommon interest in both Galba and his career. Among her legatees he was left the largest bequest in her will, the huge sum of fifty million sesterces, withheld by Tiberius (Suet. Gal., 5), and even posthumously her patronage may have contributed to Galba’s promotion to consul ordinarius about AD 33 (Suet. Gal., 6; cf. Plut. Gal., 5). Possibly to emphasize Livia’s role in his early life, Galba had himself formally adopted by his stepmother into the Livian clan, and accordingly changed his full name—tria nomina—to L.Livius Ocella, which he bore up to his accession to power (Suet. Gal., 4). This same motive was responsible also for the remarkable re-emergence under Galba of the coin type DIVA AUGUSTA—an awkward attempt to seek dynastic legitimation, but testifying that for a prospective pretender even such an indirect link to the house of Augustus was advantageous and worthy of public display. The link was too tenuous to cause him serious trouble of the kind suffered by other “dynastic dissidents,” but it nonetheless added weight to his prestige in inner governmental circles. It is suggestive that he is said to have been urged to act in the aftermath of Caligula’s assassination (ibid., 7), but preferred not to intervene. This passivity earned him the friendship of Claudius, whose niece and future empress, Agrippina, caused a society scandal (ibid., 5) by her efforts after the death of her first husband, Cn. Domitius Ahenobarbus, Nero’s father, and before her second marriage to Passienus Crispus, to lure Galba into matrimony with her. Although she failed, the report of it is yet another sign of Galba’s closeness to the seat of power, a fact that contributed to the success of his usurpation. Apart from this, Galba’s official career was impressive. He received his first office before the legal age (ibid., 6), a sure sign of august favor—as a rule, such a privilege

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was granted only to the young Imperial relatives. Upon his praetorship he served for a year as the governor of Aquitania in AD 31–2, where he may have made the acquaintance of the family of his future fellow rebel, Vindex. Following his consulate a few years later, he distinguished himself as the legate of Upper Germany, where Caligula appointed him to replace the executed conspirator Cn. Cornelius Lentulus Gaetulicus, by his enforcement of military discipline, of which he himself provided a model: he succeeded in impressing even Caligula, hardly a lover of law and order. Made by Claudius the governor of Africa around AD 44–6, he managed in two years to pacify that turbulent province (ibid., 7), and there further enhanced his reputation for strict discipline and justice. Galba’s merits were eventually recognized with triumphal ornaments and three priesthoods (ibid., 8), allowing him to retire temporarily to enjoy his laurels—his eclipse also due probably to the ascendance of Agrippina whom he had offended by refusing her matrimonial union—until he was suddenly summoned by Nero in AD 60 and appointed governor of Spain (ibid.). In direct contrast to Nero, Galba cultivated an ostentatious and, as is made clear by his conduct as a whole, an ambiguous, if not hypocritical, moralism. The image he wished to impress upon his contemporaries was that of a man possessing, and even possessed by, traditional virtues, and who paraded his severitas before all else. Galba eventually perished, Tacitus contends, because of his “ancient-like rigor and excessive severity—things to which we are no more equal” (Hist., 1, 18). He used to practice his devotion to the “ancestral customs” even in the matters of household routine (Suet. Gal., 5; cf. 6, 12). As if echoing Tacitus, Plutarch aptly phrased the resulting irony: “He set out with the idea of commanding the petted creatures of Tigellinus and Nymphidius as Scipio and Camillus and Fabricius used to command the Romans of their time” (Gal., 29). In terms of existimatio, the effect of such a moralist posture must have been ambivalent at best - on the one hand, leading Galba into trouble with the city mob and the unruly soldiery, on the other hand, earning him support in the conservative quarters of the middle and upper classes. For these latter he represented prima facie an ideal candidate for supreme power: a member of the high nobility, a dedicated public servant sharing the traditionalist values of the multi bonique, an associate of the ruling family but untainted by political or moral compromise—and, in addition, a man of considerable wealth (cf. ibid., 3). At the same time, the record of his short-lived principate makes it clear that this man, on the surface so resolute and resilient, suffered from a fundamental flaw of character—a precarious blend of energy and sloth ultimately responsible for his doom and for Tacitus’ epigrammatic judgment upon him: “By common consent, he was capable of holding the Empire—had he never been an emperor” (Hist., 1, 49). This was an inner predicament too familiar by now to be explained away by reference to Galba’s senility or other personal traits. With him, as with many of his fellow dissidents, this pattern of conduct had in large measure been imposed by the continual need for dissimulatio. It is on this effect that Tacitus comments with his usual perspicacity, hitting both dissimulatio and existimatio at once, when he says that Galba’s

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“nobility of birth and the terror of the times concealed [his real self] so that what was really indolence was called wisdom” (ibid.; cf. 1, 7). Similarly, Suetonius tellingly remarks, in regard to Galba’s governance of Spain, that “he gradually converted to lethargy and inertia, in order not to provide Nero with any pretext [for jealousy], and as he used to say, since no one can be forced to render an account for doing nothing” (Gal., 9; cf. Dio, 64, 1). If such were Galba’s real thoughts, he was sorely mistaken. Under the rule of terror even inactivity or indecision could count as a crime—as Thrasea Paetus’ example and even his own were shortly to demonstrate. The reports vary on Galba’s eight years as governor of Spain. Plutarch (Gal., 2) suggests that toward the end he made himself popular among his subjects with his sympathy for their plights at the hands of the Imperial procurators and his implicit disapproval of Nero. In any event, it seems that from AD 66 the clouds began to gather over Galba’s head. It is not known whether Galba had any personal grievances against the emperor prior to Vindex’s initiative, although he may have been somehow related to the executed Scribonii brothers (Dio gives Sulpicii as their other gentilicum, possibly signaling a case of adoption). But even if he had no grievances of his own, Galba may have interpreted Nero’s decimation of leading patrician military commanders as a threat against which even his advanced age might prove insufficient security (cf. Plut. Gal., 3, 3). Galba’s response to the initial round of Vindex’s subversive letters betrays the same oscillation between action and inaction: “He neither put any trust in them nor gave accusing information” (ibid., 4). However, his failure to denounce Vindex alerted the emperor to potential treachery on his part. Not surprisingly, Nero sought Galba’s life, but the order for his execution dispatched to the Imperial prosecutors in Spain was intercepted by the intended victim (Suet. Gal., 9). It must have been at this point that the second set of Vindex letters arrived, “urging him to become the leader and champion of humankind” (ibid.; cf. Plut. Gal., 4). This whole sequence makes it plain that Galba was driven to revolt primarily by fear rather than by ambition (cf. Suet., loc. cit.). In addition, we hear of yet another attempt on his life perpetrated by Nero’s freedmen (ibid., 10) Suetonius suggests that, with his very life in danger, Galba made his final choice without long hesitation—“owing partly to fear, and partly to hope” (Gal., 9). On the other hand, Plutarch implies that even now Galba continued to procrastinate. He offers a psychologically plausible account of Galba taking counsel with friends on what he should do, making the governor’s close associate T.Vinius Rufinus expose in an epigrammatic utterance the absurdity of any further dissimulatio: “O Galba, what counsels are these? For to ask whether we shall remain faithful to Nero means that we are already unfaithful” (Gal., 4). If Plutarch is to be trusted, it was Vinius’ irrefutable argument that won the day: “Assuming, then, that Nero is an enemy, we surely must not reject the friendship of Vindex; or else we must denounce him and make war upon him

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because he wishes the Romans to have you as their ruler rather than Nero as their tyrant.” (ibid.) One might expect Galba at this point to proceed on his chosen course of action with some consistency, and so, at first, he seemed to do. He made his pronunciamento in a grand and elaborate manner, as if competing with that of Vindex. First, he announced his intention to liberate his slaves, evidently a gesture conceived as symbolic liberation of Rome from the tyrant. Then, he ascended the tribunal, having placed in front as many images as he could of those condemned and killed by Nero; he summoned, for that very purpose, the noble youth from the family exiled to the nearby Balearic Isles [could it have been Piso Licinianus? (V.R.)], and made him to stand by his side; he deplored the state of the times and, saluted as an emperor, he declared himself [merely] the legate of the Senate and the Roman people. (Suet. Gal., 10; cf. Plut. Gal., 5) This last move is suggestive of Galba’s intent to proceed cautiously, and also of the surprising tenacity of phraseology and ideas long dead. In the present context, however, this was not republicanist but “constitutionalist” language, akin to that of Verginius Rufus, upholding senatorial dignity and denying the army’s right to choose the emperor. At the same time it allowed Galba room to maneuver, and even to retreat, in the case of adverse developments—if, for instance, some luckier or more powerful figure were to seize power elsewhere, and win the capital before him. Possibly because of the uncertainty of his position, Galba made himself more explicit than any of his Julio-Claudian predecessors in meeting “constitutionalist” expectations. By his refusal to accept the Imperial title (and the oath of personal allegiance) from his troops, he established a precedent confirming the senatorial prerogative in that matter claimed by, and denied to, the “constitutionalists” in the wake of Caligula’s assassinations. Until his official recognition as emperor by the decree of the Senate and Nero’s suicide, Galba continued to issue coins not in his own name but in the name of the Senatus Populusque Romanus. On the whole, his coinage followed the pattern established by Vindex, reinforcing Vindex’s legend ROMA RESTITUTA with his own LIBERTAS P.R.RESTITUTA, which naturally paralleled Augustus’ notion of the restoration of the Republic. The provincial upper class must have been impressed by the spectacle of Galba’s proclamation, and by his subsequent propaganda (cf. Suet. Gal., 10). But it was not without trouble that he pacified the troops and made them obey: one of the two cavalry cohorts, “repenting the change of allegiance,” was barely prevented from desertion. Nonetheless, Galba managed to augment his existing force by recruiting a new legion, two divisions of cavalry and three cohorts, to enroll a substitute Senate

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from the leading members of the local nobility, and to create his own praetorian guard of sorts from equestrian youths (ibid.). This is, however, essentially all we hear about Galba’s immediate measures—in practical terms, a mediocre performance if compared with the fervent activities of Vindex cut short by the unfortunate affair at Vesontio. That catastrophe seems to have occasioned in Galba a recurrent—and predictable—paralysis of will: he withdrew to the small city of Clunia in distress and is said even to have contemplated suicide (ibid., 11; cf. Plut. Gal., 6). Only the definitive news, brought by his freedman Icelus, earlier arrested in Rome as Galba’s agent, of Nero’s end and his own acceptance in Rome raised him out of his stupor (Suet., loc. cit.; cf. Plut. Gal., 7). His march to Rome was, however, “slow and bloody” (Tac. Hist., 1, 6): those Gauls who sided with Vindex he rewarded with citizenship and a reduction of taxes, and punished those who did not (Plut. Gal, 22; cf. Tac. Hist., 1, 8). But it was imprudent of him simply to ignore the legions that defeated the rebel (Tac. Hist., 1, 52). Despite all the inconsistencies of Galba’s conduct, moralist and “constitutionalist” sentiments were sufficiently grounded in Galba’s psyche to affect—when he acceded to power and the need for further dissimulatio vanished—his major decisions, including his refusal to subvert military discipline by paying even a small donative to the praetorian guard as well as his final political act—the adoption settlement. One of Galba’s gravest errors was his several months’ delay in sending a governor to Lower Germany as a replacement for the executed Fonteius Capito. Furthermore, his eventual appointment of A.Vitellius, a sycophant and prominent member of the Neronian “high society,” was most unfortunate. Apparently, Galba did not fear him, deceived by the man’s grotesque features, like gluttony, and lost sight of propensity for dissimulatio, inherent in the character of any courtier. The disturbances started among the German legions on January 1, AD 69, with the refusal of the majority to renew, according to their custom, their oath of allegiance to Galba (Tac. Hist., 1, 54ff.; Suet. Vit., 7) and they demanded from the Senate and the Roman people, and, according to Suetonius, specifically from the praetorians, another emperor, “not made in Spain” but of whom “all armies would approve” (Gal., 16; cf. Tac. Hist., 1, 12). The mutiny was soon followed by Vitellius’ proclamation. In the capital the news necessitated quick measures to ensure, in the event of the aged emperor’s death, the mechanism of succession. The issue was debated by the members of the privy council—ironically called by Tacitus the “Imperial popular assembly” (Hist., 1, 14), in apparent mockery of the new regime’s “constitutionalist” pretension. But the final choice was Galba’s own. On January 10, AD 69, he publicly adopted the thirty-yearold L.Calpurnius Piso Frugi Licinianus, a descendant of both Pompey the Great and Crassus the Triumvir, and appointed him Caesar and his heir apparent. It was a controversial choice, one fated to lead to disaster. As conveyed by our sources, the character of Piso Licinianus, the “Five-Day Caesar,” recalls the better qualities of the common dissident type under Nero, and seems an improvement upon the character of Galba. By temperament, Piso Licinianus belonged to such cultivators of moral seriousness and strict discipline as the “dynastic dissidents”

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Rubellius Plautus (with whom, incidentally, he was well acquainted) and L.Iunius Silanus Torquatus (cf. Tac. Hist., 1, 14; cf. ibid., 38; Plut. Gal., 23; Suet. Gal., 17; Dio, 63, 5, 1). Like these men, he possessed, in the words of Tacitus, “the countenance and manners of the ancient style, and he was correctly judged to have been stern; those who wished to see in him the worst, considered him morbid” (Hist., 1, 4). Piso Licinianus was born in AD 37 and belonged to a famous family: the youngest son of M.Licinius Crassus Frugi, consul AD 27, he was adopted by his own brother-inlaw, L.Calpurnius Piso, consul AD 57, who two years later, as proconsul of Africa, was executed by Licinius Mucianus on a charge of treason (Tac. Hist. 4, 48ff.). Piso Licinianus’ commitment to the mos maiorum may have been enhanced by the disasters that had befallen his family: the executions of his parents and elder brother under Claudius, and of yet another brother under Nero, and his own exile. In such circumstances, a firm pursuit of moral excellence, diametrically opposed to the follies of Nero’s court, may well have served him as both a gesture of protest and a source of spiritual comfort—his own means of self-assertion and self-adjustment to adverse reality (cf. Tac. Hist., 1, 15). Tempered by misfortunes and forced, for a number of years, to stay away from the capital in exile, the young man had thereby been removed from the temptations and exigencies of an official career, including the perpetual necessity and practice of dissimulatio. In at least this one respect, then, he was better equipped psychologically than the opportunistic Galba to confront the impending crisis, and his failure to resolve it owed not to his lack of stamina but of experience. Our authorities’ insistence that Galba was guided in his choice of Piso Licinianus not by personal predilection, but by moral criteria and a concern for the public welfare (Tac. Hist., 1, 15ff.; Plut. Gal., 21), may conceal a subtle distortion of the truth, obscuring the long-standing relationship between the two men. In fact, it is known that Galba had favored Piso Licinianus from earlier times (Suet. Gal., 17) and that he had even made him the chief beneficiary in his will (ibid.). But, whatever his virtues, Piso Licinianus, newly recalled from exile, was too little known on the political scene to have a following of his own, even though he had received the full support of the praetorian prefect Cornelius Laco, an old friend of his early days in Rome (Tac. Hist., 1, 14). In the course of the preliminary debate, his candidacy was much objected to by T.Vinius, who championed Otho, possibly pursuing his own “dynastic” plans and hoping, in the event of their success, to marry him to his own widowed daughter Vinia Crispina (ibid.; cf. Plut. Gal., 20). Furthermore, the choice of Otho would have met immediate public expectations: he was one of the chief contributors to the success of Galba’s cause, and at the moment he was enjoying considerable popularity among both the soldiery and the urban masses, which was what truly mattered. But the very personality of this “sexual dissident” did not fit into the elderly emperor’s moralistic scheme of things. In fact, his rejection of Otho, even more than his preference for Piso Licinianus, reflects Galba’s traditionalist bias, disregarding such realities as the amount of public influence each of the candidates could claim to possess. Otho knew this better and, frustrated in his ambitions, he quickly proceeded to stage his own putsch.

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Tacitus’ treatment of the Imperial adoption issue was influenced by hindsight and the events of three decades later when, in the autumn of AD 97, Nerva, under pressure from the military, adopted Trajan in a similar fashion. It is difficult to ascertain what Tacitus’ own view on this matter was. But these are insufficient grounds for denying the essential accuracy of his account of the actions and behavior of Galba and Piso Licinianus on the eve of their downfall, or even of his rendition— rhetorical embellishments notwithstanding—of the orations delivered by each. Owing to the drama of the moment, the thrust of their arguments almost certainly remained fresh in the minds of Tacitus’ older contemporaries. In the speech he attributes to Galba on the day of Piso Licinianus’ appointment Tacitus places a special emphasis on the professed moralist and “constitutionalist” aspects of Galba’s policies. The old man is made to preface his statement on the adoption with the remark that he would have preferred to be a private citizen, and as such adopt the young man according to ancestral custom (Hist., 1, 15). This being impossible, the precedent of Augustus is duly cited, implying not only Galba’s link to it but his deviation from it as well: “Augustus sought a successor within his family, and I within the whole commonwealth” (ibid.). He then goes on to declare unequivocally that what mattered to him in his search was not any degree of kinship, but solely the praiseworthy moral qualities of the candidate: “Yours is an age that escaped the infatuations of youth; you have nothing in your past life needing an excuse…. You will retain, with the same constancy, faithfulness, liberty, friendship—these best things of human spirit” (ibid.). Furthermore, after warning the man of his choice about the dangers of adulation, Galba is alleged to have indulged, in the manner of any other senatorial dissident, in a moment of republicanist nostalgia: “If the huge body of the Empire could actually have stood in balance without a ruler, I was the right person with whom the [true, that is, pre-Augustan] Republic could begin” (ibid., 16). Such a vision, owing to dire practical needs, was not, however, to be fulfilled. Nonetheless, the republicanist retrospect provides the moral context for the questionable claim that with the choice of an emperor from beyond the confines of a single family, a measure of the original liberty is restored, for the mechanism of adoption will allow the selection of only the best men: Since to be begotten by or born of the emperors, is a matter of accident, and there is no estimate beyond that; while in the case of adoption, the judgment is wholesome, and if there is a need, a person to be chosen is pointed out by consensus. (ibid.) This last point certainly echoes, in language and sentiment, later senatorial demands under the Flavians and early in the second century (cf. Plin. Pan., 7, 7; 10, 2), and suggests that Tacitus is here projecting the concerns and developments of his own times onto the past, and not that Galba had in fact anticipated these later sentiments. Predictably, Tacitus makes his Galba argue that Nero’s ruin was the result of his vices

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and not the revolution. He contrasts public expectations of the “good” and the “worst” parts of the citizenry, thereby accounting for the differences between the senatorial and the popular existimatio of the holders of supreme power. Such a juxtaposition allows the speech to end with the famous pronouncement (almost certainly Tacitus’ invention) in which the moral and political elements of the issue are merged: “We do not belong to the nations that are ruled by a certain house of masters while the rest are slaves; you will have to rule over people who are able to endure neither slavery nor full liberty” (Hist., 1, 16). At the outset of Otho’s coup on January 15, AD 69, and only a few hours before his own murder, Piso Licinianus addressed the seditious praetorians in a vain effort to pacify them. Here, too, Tacitus’ rendering of this speech quite likely reflects the essence of Piso Licinianus’ words. Certainly it agrees with what we know of the young man’s personality, and in it his moralism is shown to prevail over pragmatic considerations. Instead of making an appeal (which might have succeeded) to the praetorians’ greed or vanity, he concentrates on an implicit contrast between himself and the new pretender in terms of their virtues, or lack thereof. Otho, not surprisingly, emerges as Nero redivivus: Does he merit the Empire on account of his bearing and effeminate outfit?… His mind centers on debauches, revels, and the company of women; these things he regards a prize of the seizure of the principate, so that cupidity and lechery so provided will belong to him, while shame and indecency—to each one of you. (Tac. Hist., 1, 30) Such an argumentum ad hominem might conceivably have affected men in the mold of Subrius Flavus or Sulpicius Asper, but it was lost on Piso Licinianus’ present audience. Nor were matters much improved by what followed: an invective against those renegades from among his listeners’ ranks, an awkward compliment to the praetorians’ questionable loyalty in the past, and even a threat of civil war in the event of Otho’s successful usurpation. As for the crucial and potentially most persuasive point—an offer of money to the soldiers—it is only at the end of the speech that the prospect of such a donative is mentioned, and even then it is no greater than that promised by the usurper. Assuming that Tacitus’ transmission of his speech is reasonably accurate, one may well wonder why Piso Licinianus did not present his arguments in the reverse order, that is, starting with the promise of money rather than the issue of morals. Had he done so, things might well have ended differently. As it was, he was killed in the Forum by the side of his adoptive father that very day. The latter acted as an old-fashioned disciplinarian to the very end. Shortly before his own murder a bodyguard, waving a bloody sword, cried out, in false boast, that he had just assassinated Otho, only to be rebuked by Galba with the words: “Who gave you orders, comrade?” (Tac. Hist., 1, 35; cf. Plut. Gal., 26).

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Their deaths constitute yet further proof that traditional moralism of the sort preached by Galba and Piso Licinianus was hopelessly outdated and, so far as the soldiery was concerned, as ineffective as republicanist rhetoric. At the same time, their “constitutionalist” experiment—an insistence on the adoption principle and on senatorial prerogatives in the choice of the emperor—may have been premature, but it left its own mark on long-term developments, eventually leading to the policies of apparent liberalization practiced by the so-called “good emperors” from Nerva onwards. *** Otho was the first among the provincial governors to declare openly for Galba while Nero was still alive (Suet. Otho, 4; Tac. Hist., 1, 13; cf. Plut. Gal., 20). His exile in the guise of an honor lasted for almost ten years, during which he is said to have administered Lusitania with distinction (Suet., loc. cit., 3; Tac., loc. cit.; Plut., loc. cit.), all the time harboring a deep resentment against his former Imperial playmate who had deprived him of his wife and of the pleasures of the court and the capital. Still, Suetonius’ belief that his treachery was motivated merely by a desire for revenge (Otho, loc. cit.) against Nero, coupled with ambition, contradicts some salient features of this former “sexual dissident’s” conduct upon his seizing power. The recorded facts of Otho’s short principate imply that his feelings toward Nero remained singularly divided, far beyond what could have been expected from the habitual effects of dissimulatio. In explaining the brief Neronian revival under Otho, political exigencies, such as the new emperor’s concern about his popularity among the lower classes (Tac. Hist., 1, 78; cf. Plut. Otho, 3), must not be underrated: they played a major role. There were, on the other hand, vast sections of the populace whom Nero’s rehabilitation could only have alienated. One can easily imagine Otho’s glee when he forced the Senate to restore by official decree all honors to Poppaea Sabina (Tac., loc. cit.). This measure may have been intended as politically expedient, reminding the public of his own earlier marriage to the future empress, but to Tacitus it meant that “he was not forgetful of his loves” (Hist., 1, 78), the emotional entanglements of youth being the hardest to obliterate. Although the new emperor must have been aware of the resentment around him (Plut. Otho, 3; cf. Dio, 64, 7, 3), Otho is said to have condoned the restoration of statues and images of Nero (Tac. Hist., 1, 78; Suet. Otho, 7; cf. Dio, 64, 8, 3; Plut. Otho, 3), and to have gone so far as to allow the soldiers and the common people to greet him as Nero Otho (Tac., loc. cit.; cf. Plut., loc. cit.). Furthermore, both Suetonius (Otho, 3) and Plutarch (Otho, 3—on the authority of Cluvius Rufus) report that it was as “Nero Otho” that the new emperor signed even official documents. At the same time there seems to have been a more personal factor in Otho’s obsession with the late “artistic tyrant,” especially prominent in his private behavior. It was reflected in his open intimacy with Sporus, Nero’s eunuch lover (Dio, 64, 8, 3), and in his plan to marry Nero’s widow, Statilia Messallina (Suet. Otho, 10)—although in the latter instance he was surely pursuing what he took for political interests, believing

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that yet another indirect connection to the Julio-Claudians might add a modicum of legitimacy to his usurpation. If contrasted with the history of their relationship, such facts are suggestive of Otho’s political and erotic rivalry with Nero, which was fraught with a mixture of love and hatred, and grounded in the original psychodrama involving their ménage à trois with Poppaea Sabina. Besides the political aim of establishing some sort of link with the fallen dynasty, Otho, by modeling his conduct on that of Nero, may have aspired to some sort of eventual identification with him. This would, in fact, be a sufficiently powerful motive to explain, at least in part, many of Otho’s actions, including his drive for power (even though in his heart he may have recognized his unfitness for the Imperial office (cf. Suet. Otho, 7; Dio, 64, 7, 1)) and also the manner of suicide upon his defeat at the hands of the Vitellians in the battle of Cremona. It was Nero’s rather than Cato’s shadow that haunted Otho at his deathbed. The only provincial governor besides Otho who appears to have allied himself with the insurgents in Gaul and Spain prior to Nero’s actual fall and suicide was the prefect of Egypt, the Hellenized Jew Tib. Iulius Alexander—the nephew of Philo of Alexandria and the protégé of King Herod Agrippa I.Tiberius Alexander was a versatile opportunist, capable of accurate orientation in a complicated predicament. Earlier in his career he was a member of the entourage of Domitius Corbulo, at one point in AD 63 even serving as his chief of staff (Tac. Ann., 15, 28). On the eve and in the aftermath of the great general’s disgrace, it must have cost his former associate an inordinate amount of dissimulatio to secure (in May AD 66) from Nero—and to preserve—an appointment of such importance as the Egyptian prefecture. Tiberius Alexander’s famous edict of July 6, AD 68, acclaims Galba, “who has risen like the sun to give us light for the good of all mankind,” as “autocrator” with the title of “Augustus,” suggesting that the prefect knew of Galba’s designs in advance. Galba officially assumed the Imperial title only upon Nero’s death, of which Tiberius Alexander, due to communication problems, could not yet have been aware when he issued his edict. Ironically, in the moments of despair just before his death, Nero is reported to have toyed with the idea of escaping to Alexandria (Suet. Nero, 47; Plut. Gal., 2; Dio, 63, 27, 2)—there, unaware of his prefect’s shift of allegiance, he might well have suffered the fate of Pompey. Tiberius Alexander’s attitude was recognized by Galba, who extended his term in office, and it was further prolonged by both Otho and Vitellius. Later this professional careerist proved instrumental both in the conduct of the Jewish war and in the proclamation of Vespasian. IV Only a few of Nero’s henchmen or collaborationists seem to have perished in the wake of his fall or to have suffered any punishment at all, despite several waves— under Galba, Otho, and Vespasian—of popular or senatorial demands for their heads. At times, discrediting a predecessor or removing a predecessor’s most trusted, or

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compromised, assistants can be in his successor’s best interests, allowing the fiction of a clean start. Yet the very nature of the repressive, quasi-hereditary principate resisted any radical purge. The regime could not afford to risk its institutional prestige by further exposing the system’s moral or political faults, or to undermine itself by harassing the very class of people that in each generation constituted its basic strength. Of the senatorial pillars of the Neronian tyranny, the only one executed by Galba seems to have been the aged Petronius Turpilianus—an odd choice. Plutarch insists that Petronius Turpilianus “had participated in no serious offense” (Gal., 17) but “was hated merely because he would not betray nor show hatred to Nero.” This last point seems to imply either the man’s consummate dissimulatio, or an absence in him of any need for it, that is, his genuine commitment to the “artistic tyrant.” But Petronius Turpilianus’ record was not, in truth, as innocuous as Plutarch claims: we remember that he played a major part in the suppression of the Pisonian conspiracy, for which he received triumphal decorations (p. 130). This alone, however, would not have constituted a reasonable pretext for punishment—otherwise Cocceius Nerva, the recipient, on the same occasion, of no less a reward than Petronius Turpilianus, would never have become emperor, but instead would have had his career or even his life aborted in its very prime. Tacitus hints that Petronius Turpilianus was in fact executed because Nero, before his final collapse, had dispatched him with an army to Northern Italy to fight the rebels (Hist., 1, 6), though this force never took the field against Vindex or Galba. On the contrary, Dio (in Zonaras’ excerpt) tells us that it was the news of Petronius Turpilianus’ defection that dealt Nero the final blow (63, 27, 1). But this reference arouses suspicion, since it is known that Petronius Turpilianus was put to death in the capital (Tac. Hist., 1, 36), where he had returned “bare and unarmed” (Plut. Gal., 15), that is, in the capacity of a private citizen. The natural inference is that it was his troops, and not Petronius Turpilianus himself, who defected to the rebels and abandoned their commander and the emperor. If accepted, this interpretation throws some light on Galba’s motives. Besides, he must have indulged in private animosity which cost him dearly. Our sources are indignant at Galba’s arbitrary treatment of the case and his lack of circumspection in putting a senator to death without trial (Tac., loc. cit.; Plut. Gal., 15). As a consequence, public opinion is portrayed as deeming the man innocent (ibid.), and his punishment juridical murder—an outcome that served well the needs of anti-Galban propaganda (cf. Tac. Hist., 1, 34). Presumably, all the other prominent and noxious Neronians—Aquilius Regulus, Vibius Crispus, Eprius Marcellus, and the rest—joined in obsequious adulation of the new emperor. Any others who perished and whose names we possess appear to have been freedmen or outcasts cleverly “exposed” as scapegoats to appease the masses. Nymphidius Sabinus, at that point the only real power in the city, and who desired, we are told, “to gratify the people” (Plut. Gal., 8), looked the other way while the mob randomly lynched such lesser creatures and “any follower of Nero who fell into their hands.” Yet such expressions of popular vengeance sparked concern among the

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senators, who saw in them threats of anarchy and witch-hunts, and prompted Iunius Mauricus, a prominent member of the multi bonique and himself an opponent of the delatores, to protest publicly against excess and summary justice (ibid.). Upon his arrival in the capital, Galba executed another group of Nero’s associates, this time better chosen and guilty of greater crimes, though all of them still freedmen. But he caused much resentment by sparing many others, among them Tigellinus (Plut. Gal., 17; Suet. Gal., 15; Dio, 64, 3, 3; Tac. Hist. 1, 72). In defense of the latter, Galba is even said to have issued an edict chastising the populace for its thirst for blood (Suet., loc. cit.; Plut., loc. cit.)—a measure in itself suggestive of the extent of the public’s outrage. Surprisingly little is known about Tigellinus’ vicissitudes during the crisis of AD 68. Either he deliberately distanced himself from the court in anticipation of disaster, or a serious illness, portrayed by Plutarch as a fact (Otho, 2; cf. Gal., 17), curtailed his activities. Although his eventual betrayal of Nero seems a matter of record (Tac. Hist., 1, 72; cf. Plut. Gal., 17; Jos. Bell. Jud., 4, 492), this may have occurred only at the last moment, and possibly under pressure from Nymphidius Sabinus, who is said to have disarmed him at some point (Plut. Gal, 8). Still, we continue to hear about Tigellinus’ adherents for some time to come (ibid., 18, 19, 24). At all events, a character like Tigellinus must have forged many links with important people for various eventualities. Our sources contend that Tigellinus owed his temporary rescue to T.Vinius (Plut. Gal., 17; Tac. Hist., 1, 72; Suet. Gal., 15), with whom he ingratiated himself sometime earlier—either by bribery, or else by the exchange of beneficia, as suggested by Tacitus, according to whom Tigellinus protected Vinius’ daughter Vinia Crispina from Nero during the earlier stages of the revolution (Hist., loc. cit.). This said, there remains, however, the interesting possibility that even in this most difficult predicament, politically imperiled and physically ill, the loathsome prefect continued to play some kind of double game, since we learn that at least one close associate of his (ibid., 24), a certain Maevius Pudens, proved instrumental in the preparation of Otho’s coup. If such was the case, Tigellinus gravely miscalculated, for in the end it was his fellow immoralist Otho, not the slowmoving moralistic Galba, who worked his doom. Whether yielding to public pressure, which is portrayed by Tacitus as near the point of sedition (Hist., 1, 72; cf. Plut. Gal., 17), or having discovered his own reasons for getting rid of this man who had been privy to many unsavory secrets, Otho shortly after his seizure of power dispatched an order of death to Tigellinus, then staying at Sinuessa (Plut. Otho, 2; Tac., loc. cit.), where, Plutarch alleges (loc. cit.), he was preparing for flight, and where, after futile attempts at delay (Tac., loc. cit.), he cut his throat with a razor (Plut., loc. cit.; Tac., loc. cit.)—or, in Tacitus’ angry words, “further defiled an infamous life with a tardy and dishonorable end” (ibid.; cf. Juv., 1, 158). The senatorial collaborationists, who were, in contrast to some loyalist generals and administrators, unconcerned with “ancestral customs,” and belonged to the ruthlessly dynamic pauci et validi, managed to accommodate themselves to conditions under Julio-Claudian rule. Exemplified by men like Cossutianus Capito or Aquilius Regulus, they acted, in their capacity as delatores, as the instruments of Imperial terror, but

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their ambition did not reach beyond the desire to build up their influence at court and in the Senate and to increase their wealth. If they experienced any psychological or moral qualms—as Tacitus’ Eprius Marcellus contends in his exchange with Helvidius Priscus (p. 183)—they kept these to themselves, aided by the habit of dissimulatio and an outwardly professed cynicism. On the other hand, people of this mold were rarely allowed to reach the levels of real power or to hold strategically important military commands. The key office of praetorian prefect was entirely outside their grasp and traditionally barred to members of the senatorial order. This measure was designed to prevent a potential coup by an officer in charge of the guard, betraying a belief that the stratified Roman society would never tolerate a usurper of mere equestrian rank regardless of the authority he might enjoy, or the degree of personal loyalty to him on the part of his subordinates. This belief underestimated the human capacity for delusion. Undeterred by social barriers, Sejanus—the archetypical upstart—found his praetorian command a fitting base from which he could conceivably aspire to supreme power. Under Nero, one would expect to find such a figure in Tigellinus, which was not, however, the case—possibly because of that man’s lesser sense of security. Unlike Sejanus, who had been sole prefect, Tigellinus always shared that office, first with Faenius Rufus and later with Nymphidius Sabinus. Ironically, it was this last, coming from the very bottom of the social ladder, who eventually became Nero’s nemesis and sought to play out a scenario of the kind that could have been contemplated by a Sejanus. Naturally, a character like Nymphidius Sabinus cannot be classed in the same category as, say, Thrasea Paetus or even Faenius Rufus, but this does not mean that he did not suffer from what we have called the “dissident condition”—an emotional, or mental, conflict between commitment and necessity. Nymphidius Sabinus’ commitment, however, was exclusively to himself, and his conflict had nothing to do with moral or theoretical concerns. Rather, it arose from his failure to adapt an overweening ambition to the limits imposed on him by his social and political status within the Imperial system. Consequently, it was not spiritual anguish, but a frustrated desire for further self-aggrandizement that Nymphidius Sabinus and others of his ilk were forced to conceal through dissimulatio, fearing ruin and exposure no less than their dissident opponents, the closet moralists. Nymphidius Sabinus’ earlier career is obscure. His dramatic rise to prominence came about as a result of unspecified though evidently valuable service to the government in the unraveling of the Pisonian plot in AD 65. This won him consular decorations and the office of praetorian prefect, in which he replaced the impeached conspirator Faenius Rufus. Nero’s trust in Nymphidius Sabinus was no doubt augmented by his base origins: the son of a freedwoman prostitute, his only chance for political advancement lay in becoming the obedient creature of the emperor. Left in Rome during the Greek tour—another sign of Nero’s confidence—Nymphidius Sabinus seems to have intuitively mastered the mechanics of existimatio. He managed to boost both his image and his own following not only in the military but in

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senatorial quarters as well. Though the absence of his rival colleague Tigellinus very likely contributed to this success, this was still no mean achievement, especially considering that he must have been held at least partially responsible for the brutal policies of repression practiced by the “regent” Helius. In any event, by the time of the emperor’s return Nymphidius Sabinus was in virtually sole military control of the capital. When the crisis broke, he acted with perfect timing, stabbing his Imperial benefactor in the back at the very moment that Nero, utterly undone by the latest news of defections (cf. Suet. Nero, 47; also Dio, 63, 27, 1), was preparing for flight. That their prefect was obliged to use deceit to win them over testifies (cf. Tac. Hist., 1, 5) to the continuing loyalty of the praetorians to the house of the Caesars. According to Plutarch, Nymphidius Sabinus induced them to break their faith only by announcing that Nero had actually escaped and was already on his way to Egypt (Plut. Gal., 2). Thereupon, in “turning the revolt from Nero into treachery,” as Plutarch puts it (ibid., 1), he further enhanced Galba’s bid by the promise, in the latter’s name, of the extraordinary donative of seven thousand five hundred denarii for each member of the urban cohorts and one thousand two hundred and fifty denarii for each man serving outside the city—“a sum which was impossible to raise without inflicting ten thousand times more evils upon the world than those inflicted by Nero” (ibid., 2). And Plutarch continues: This promise was at once the death of Nero, and soon afterwards of Galba: the one the soldiers abandoned to his fate in order to get their reward, the other they killed because they did not get it. Then, in trying to find someone who would give them as high a price, they destroyed themselves in a succession of revolts and treacheries before their expectations were satisfied. (ibid.) In fact, a shrewd calculation may have underlied Nymphidius Sabinus’ promise. He could hope to further his own ambitions, knowing that Galba would not be able to pay this unpayable sum of money and would thus compromise himself with the soldiers. In the end, however, it was Otho who turned it to his own advantage. In any event, this offer decided the issue, at the same time setting the odious precedent for the repeated praetorian auctions of the purple that would plague the Empire during the third century. The only detailed account of Nymphidius Sabinus’ later abortive revolt against Galba, in mid-AD 68, is found in Plutarch (Gal., 8–10, 13–14; cf. also Tac. Hist., 1, 5; Suet. Gal., 11; Dio, 64, 2, 3). Plutarch (Gal., 9) and, briefly, Tacitus (loc. cit.) state in unequivocal terms that, incredible as it may seem, this praetorian prefect of servile extraction seriously aspired to the principate. Yet this may not have been his original project, but rather an idea seized upon in the face of adverse developments. His initial intention seems to have been to play the role of chief strongman at the new emperor’s court. With Galba still making his way to the capital, Nymphidius Sabinus,

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reportedly, “was forcing the entire control of affairs into his own hands, not slowly and little by little, but all at once” (Plut. Gal., 8). Scarcely bothering about the aged and presumably frail Galba, and confident of the loyalty to himself of the praetorian cohorts, Nymphidius Sabinus deposed his colleague Tigellinus with remarkable ease and proceeded with a fully-fledged public relations campaign, hosting banquets for ex-consuls and high commanders (though still with caution, and formally in Galba’s name) and inciting the soldiers “to declare that a deputation ought to be sent to Galba demanding that Nymphidius be made prefect for life without a colleague” (ibid.). His strategy, apparently, was to take advantage of the still precarious status of the new ruler and pressure Galba, by means of popular agitation, into bestowing upon him the same omnipotent office of sole prefect of the guard that had earlier been held by Sejanus and Afranius Burrus. In addition to the military lobby, he relied, and not unreasonably, on the backing of the Senate: he, after all, claimed chief credit for Nero’s overthrow, which greatly enhanced his prestige. It is not surprising that, with Nymphidius Sabinus the virtual dictator of the city, the senators promptly indulged in habitual adulatio, decreeing to him the title of benefactor, crowding his morning receptions, and finally granting him “the privilege of initiating and confirming all their decrees” (ibid.). Yet he must have inspired greater fear than awe. When the consuls sent an official dispatch to Galba in Spain under their own seal, not his, and accompanied by a civil, not a praetorian, convoy, Nymphidius Sabinus is said to have been “vexed beyond all bounds” and even to have considered formal proceedings against the consuls, until they “excused themselves and begged for forgiveness.” The first disappointment Nymphidius Sabinus experienced was news of the failure of the reconnaissance mission entrusted to his friend Gellianus, whom he had sent to Spain both to spy on Galba and to watch over the prefect’s interests (ibid., 8). But the new emperor found this envoy’s arrival a disagreeable imposition and his principal an unwanted ally, both dangerous and hateful, so that Gellianus was ignored completely (ibid., 13). Moreover, Nymphidius Sabinus now learned that the real power behind Galba was the unscrupulous T.Vinius and, worse still, that Galba had appointed as the new praetorian prefect the trusted Cornelius Laco—a curious individual, blackened by hostile tradition, but known to have possessed strong dissident ties, including his friendships with Rubellius Plautus and Piso Licinianus. It seems logical to assume that it was at this point, when he realized that he was not going to get from Galba what he wished and that his entire political future was in jeopardy, that Nymphidius Sabinus set himself on the path of revolution, aiming at seizure of the purple, and not earlier, as Plutarch’s narrative sequence seems to imply. Yet even now he sought vainly to force Galba’s hand—first, through an unsuccessful attempt to induce the military to send another deputation to the emperor in denunciation of Vinius and Cornelius Laco “to inform him that if he would put away from his company of friends only these two men, he would be more acceptable to all on his arrival” (ibid.); and then, by trying to blackmail him into alliance with exaggerated messages of various real and fictive mutinies throughout the Empire.

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Although Plutarch, in contrast to Tacitus (cf. Ann., 15, 72), emphatically denies even the possibility that Nymphidius Sabinus might have been Caligula’s son, citing the discrepancy in dates (Gal., 6), and postulates rather the gladiator Martianus as his father, he confirms that the prefect deliberately spread rumors of his being an Imperial bastard (cf. Tac., loc. cit.). In addition, Nymphidius Sabinus displayed with ostentation his intimacy with Nero’s eunuch lover Sporus, whom “he treated as his consort and addressed by the name of Poppaea” (Plut. Gal., 13). Plutarch places both stories in the context of Nymphidius Sabinus’ Imperial aspirations, which allows us a glimpse into the man’s peculiarly crooked mind. While his affair with Sporus may have been a product of genuine passion, he seems to have imagined that any publicity given to his links with the fallen dynasty, even of an obscene or semi-obscene nature, was bound to enhance his prospects of successful usurpation. Although perhaps reflecting indirectly on the mores and attitudes of his contemporaries, this is suggestive of a personal idiosyncrasy. His impressive political gifts notwithstanding, Nymphidius Sabinus seems to have been peculiarly susceptible to self-delusion, failing to heed the voices of common sense all around him, such as that of Clodius Celsus of Antioch, a well-wisher who, according to Plutarch, sought to dissuade him by arguing, most reasonably, that “not a single precinct in Rome would give Nymphidius the title of Caesar” (ibid.). This was not, however, the view of others in the faction he commanded, “certain women and men of the senatorial rank,” who, Plutarch tells us, “secretly assisted him” (ibid.). In fact, numbered among Nymphidius Sabinus’ supporters was no less a figure than the consul-designate for AD 68 (cf. Tac. Hist., 1, 6), Cingonius Varro, who wrote the proclamation speech the prefect was to deliver in the praetorian camp at the crucial moment (Plut. Gal., 14, 15), as well as Mithridates, the former King of Bosphorus, who is said to have been inciting him into action by ridicule of Galba’s inadequacies (ibid., 13, cf. Tac. Hist., 1, 7). The complicity of figures of that standing in Nymphidius Sabinus’ escapade raises the question whether, in fact, they rallied in earnest to assist his dubious claims (thereby bolstering the modern conjecture that, with a different turn of events, this selfproclaimed Imperial bastard might actually have come into possession of the throne of the Caesars), or, more likely, they sought merely to use the prefect to topple Galba, then to dispose of him in his turn. Nymphidius Sabinus’ prospective coup in August AD 68 was thwarted by the intervention of the tribune Antonius Honoratus, who forestalled the prefect on the very evening of the putsch by addressing the cohorts with a passionate argument in support of Galba and playing upon their vanity and sense of guilt. The address worked to shift the mood of the soldiers, and when the pretender arrived at the praetorian camp around midnight, “carrying a speech in his hand,” he was at first barred from entering and then, when admitted with a few companions, promptly killed (Plut. Gal., 14). It is apparent that Nymphidius Sabinus’ bid for power, though quickly suppressed, gave Galba a good fright, and it seems he thought the prefect’s following to be not insubstantial. Those of Nymphidius Sabinus’ remaining associates who failed to take

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their own lives were hurriedly executed by Galba without trial, upon his arrival in Rome in mid-October, among them Mithridates and Cingonius Varro (Plut. Gal., 15). Such measures, and especially the killing of the consul-elect, predictably supplied public opinion with yet another source of outrage (cf. Tac. Hist, 1, 6). Galba’s continuing distrust of the praetorians was not unreasonable (cf. Tac. Hist., 1, 5). He was all the time aware of their anger at him on account of his refusal to pay them the long-awaited donative, and suspected them of unrepentant sympathy for Nymphidius Sabinus’ lost cause (cf. Suet. Gal., 16). All these mutual fears and hatreds were cleverly exploited by Otho and the Othonians (cf. Plut. Gal., 23) on the eve, and in the aftermath, of their own coup. They are described as having pressured the chief officers of the guard into complicity by alleging, not entirely unjustly, that in Galba’s eyes they were still disloyal, owing to the favors that Nymphidius Sabinus had shown to them at the time of his supremacy (Tac. Hist., 1, 25). Otho himself, characteristically, is made by Tacitus to list in his proclamation speech not only Cingonius Varro but also Nymphidius Sabinus among Galba’s presumably innocent victims (ibid., 37). In the course of the fatal crisis Nero ostentatiously neglected to consult the Senate on his policies (cf. Suet. Nero, 41), thus further undermining his image with the upper classes and ignoring the logic of existimatio. By this time, the emperor very likely saw in the senators the source of every mischief—even though they promptly outlawed first Vindex (Dio, 63, 23, 2, apud. Petr. Patr.) and later Galba (Plut. Gal., 5)—an attitude which, aggravated by his generally paranoid state at the time, may in fact account for Suetonius’ report (Nero, 43) of his intent to poison them all at a banquet. It comes as little surprise, then, that when Nero’s imminent downfall proved certain, with no threat of return, the Senate—pointedly—sentenced him to a cruel and ignominious execution, “according to the ancestral customs,” as a parricide and a public enemy (ibid., 47). The end of the “artistic tyrant” is well known (Suet. Nero, 47–9; cf. Dio, 63, 27–9). Having failed to coerce his officers to accompany him to the fleet (Suet., loc. cit., 47) and abandoned by the palace guard, Nero went underground and hid with his small retinue of slaves and freedmen at the villa of one of them, Phaon. It was there that, on July 9, AD 68, after much anguish and not without the help of his secretary a libellis Epaphroditus, Nero stabbed himself to death, crying out the famous “What an artist dies with me!” (ibid., 49)—a pathetic and twisted dissident in reverse, in conflict with his culture, his society, and himself.

CONCLUSION

This book’s argument has been about the complexity of the dissident mind and behavior. This was not a sociological inquiry, but an attempt to envision the dissident plight from an insider’s perspective. The Roman Republic was by no means a just society, but it possessed a set of values that made sense in the eyes of the governing class irrespective of whether and to what extent they were implemented in individual conduct. The crisis of the Republic engendered a crisis of its values, and Augustus’ response to that led eventually to the moral and psychological morass the Neronian dissidents found themselves in. The period of two generations between the fall of the Republic and the time of Nero was too short for a steady means of adjustment to the increasingly ambivalent reality of the principate to be worked out. One thing, however, was by this time made clear: the restoration of the old Republic was not possible, nor was the abolition of the principate as the form of government. What remained was disappointment with individual rulers (or dynasty) and struggle for power within the regime. Under scrutiny, the evidence disavows several popular procedures in interpreting politics in the early Roman Empire—such as, for instance, the analysis of the senatorial scene only in terms of ideological clashes, factional strife, patronage connections, or family alliances rooted in inherited opposition to, or collaboration with, the emperors. The term “ideology,” in fact, is not well suited for explicating dissident sentiments at that time. Even apart from the narrow Marxist meaning of the word as relating to class interest, the customary usage of this term implies commitment to a coherent system of views, their intellectual justification, and, notably, the need for consistency in thought and action. Such was not the case with the senatorial dissidents, and from a psychological viewpoint this constitutes a major difference between them and many modern dissident groups. Neither the “ideological” tenets of republicanism, nor those of Stoicism, suffice to make full sense of Neronian dissident activities. Nor is it proper to treat the mos maiorum as ideology: it belonged to the realm of custom and conduct rather than ideas. In no way consistent, the dissident frame of mind was subject to all sorts of conflict, thus reflecting the essential contradiction of the principate as a political system. On the other hand, what motivated the behavior of Thrasea Paetus

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and his ilk was closer to the Kantian “categorical imperative” than to any form of ideology. As regards senatorial infighting, there was indeed a difference in temperament and sensibilities between the “traditionalist” camp of the multi bonique and the “modernist” of the pauci et validi, but, when expedient, this difference was disregarded by all; nor did it indicate factions in the old republicanist sense: group politics was often superseded by individual interests. The reign of terror saw a dramatic dissolution of fides, the notion of mutual trust, that was inherent in the Roman understanding of amicitia—“friendship,” both private and public—and in the working of the patronclient relationship. Clients who wished to remain loyal ran a risk of being drawn into disaster if their patron was disgraced; many others felt prepared to change sides at the proper moment, to betray their patron out of fear or greed. It is therefore of little surprise that in the upper echelon of the social pyramid, the senators and the courtiers occasionally conspired against the emperor who assumed, in his capacity as pater patriae, “the father of the fatherland,” and in virtue of his control over their careers, the status of their own ultimate benefactor. Similarly, despite all the display of piety and emphasis placed on kinship, the fabric of senatorial life suffered from an erosion of alliances based on familial ties, with the emperors giving the lead by extermination of their own relatives. It was not infrequent in the period that the dividing line between dissidents and collaborationists ran through one and the same family. Although demands arising from family obligations or those of patronage could exercise an impact on senatorial politicians, their force was never fully compelling: in the final analysis, the destiny of an individual resided in that individual’s own choice of performance in the curia. For this reason I found it profitable to discuss the predicament of the Neronian dissidents in terms of sentiments and sensibilities, motives and attitudes, or patterns of behavior. One cannot classify dissident individuals, each one of them a microcosm, on the basis of any formal principle except that of their external circumstances, as was the case with the members of the Imperial family (“dynastic dissidents”) or of the intimate circle around the emperor that was engaged in libertinage (“sexual dissidents”), or for that matter, with “dissidents by misadventure.” A momentary or long-meditated decision could make of one a conspirator, a collaborator, or an informer. In reality, however, dissident attitudes were in flux and constant interaction. They do not easily yield to any meaningful taxonomy, although it is possible to discern in them certain constituent elements, as, for instance, “traditionalism” and “pragmatism,” the former manifest, politically, in the guise of “legalism” or “constitutionalism” or (even if only in a romantic and nostalgic sense) republicanism, and ethically, in militant moralism, genuine or hypocritical; the latter assuming, as regards political matters, such forms as “loyalism” sometimes indistinguishable from opportunism, and in respect to ethics tending to disregard moralist prescriptions. Naturally, this scheme is as deficient as any other: politics and ethics intertwine, boundaries between categories blur, the dialectics of change are ignored, and nuances, some of them crucial, are inevitably lost. Nonetheless, it offers a frame of reference to make senatorial dissidence

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comprehensible to the modern mind, avoiding at least some of the modern tenets that cannot be applied at all. Back in Julio-Claudian Rome, the relation between the emperor and the Senate can be likened to an elaborate game, simultaneously tedious and exhilarating, often tortuous and fraught with peril, running its course in favor of the emperor, but never coming to an end. From the tactical point of view, this provided an almost infinite spectrum of available moves. Everyone collaborated, but it was the motive, the degree, and the effects of collaboration that mattered. The loyalism of a noble senator on account of an Imperial appointment that he considered his due anyway belonged to a different scale from that of a “new man,” homo novus, or an equestrian administrator, both wholly and throughout imperial creatures. Much depended on individual character and on the circumstances of the moment. The Senate was a closed elite body where members knew each other well, so that it was often not even a dissident’s public stand, but his personal relations with friends, enemies, and, above all, with the emperor, that decided his fate. This condition maps the dynamics of dissimulatio as the means of psychological self-adjustment, to resolve the conflict between the desirable and the feasible, idealism and realism, word and deed. It allowed extraordinary inconsistency in political performance: today’s dissident could tomorrow play the delator. But even the staunchest were prepared to indulge in adulation any time it seemed advisable. As a rule, fear prevailed over moral principle—and also over ambition. In sum, of all options open to a dissident, the least realizable was Tacitus’ ideal of the middle course: “between the extremes of badtempered contumacy and ugly subservience to proceed along a road free from intrigue and danger” (Ann., 4, 20). Unlike the age of the Republic, when a senator was expected to enhance his dignitas by political activism and the “pursuit of glory,” under the principate it was a senator’s withdrawal from public life that served, in the eyes of many, as proof of his moral worth. But a pointed secessio, as experience taught, could itself be penalized as subversion by a prejudiced ruler. The trappings of the rhetoricized mentality provided intellectuals with an escape route into an illusory world of exempla and verbal refinement. Others took refuge in ignavia, idleness, the logical extension of dissimulatio, and a sort of mental suicide, as did one Servilius Vatia under Tiberius: He was famed for nothing else than his life of leisure, and he was regarded as lucky only for that reason. For whenever men were ruined by their friendship with Asinius Gallus, whenever others were ruined by their hatred of Sejanus, and later by their intimacy with him—for it was no more dangerous to have offended him than to have loved him—people used to cry out: “O Vatia, you alone know how to live!” But what he knew was how to hide, not how to live; and it makes a great deal of difference whether your life be one of leisure or one of idleness.

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This sarcastic portrait is drawn by Seneca (Epist., 55, 3), apparently unconcerned with the similarity between this paralysis of will and the effects produced by the Stoic doctrine of apatheia, the suppression of feeling, and one wonders whether he recognized in this description, perhaps subconsciously, something of himself. On the balance of evidence, the Julio-Claudian regime appears as vicious as any modern dictatorship, with the difference that it lacked the technology that in our age provides the means of total control. The further from the capital, the looser was the government’s grasp over its subjects, which in consequence made their life safer and more secure. But these were times when, as Columella pointed out (1, 1, 9), “civil ambition” attracted the inhabitants of the countryside to the city and made them stay there indefinitely. This dilemma became even sharper in the case of provincials whose life at home offered little opportunity for glamor and self-advancement, causing talented and energetic men to dream of coming to Rome, like moths that are drawn to fire, and often upon the fulfillment of that dream, to perish there. Conversely, the absence of military men from the capital for extended periods of time went not without effect on their psychology: it reduced the need for dissimulatio and probably dulled their ability to practice it. So long as senatorial dissidents were confined to the curia, they were little threat to the emperor, even though he saw it differently and often overreacted: Nero’s trouble, after all, started only with his decimation of the army command. It was not an accident that while most senatorial politicians suffered from paralysis of will, the military were the prime movers of the two conspiracies against him and played a major role in his overthrow. Still, Nero’s regime of “artistic tyranny”—inconceivable half a century earlier—lasted for fourteen years (roughly as long as Napoleon’s rule), and collapsed at the last moment because of the treachery of his own creature, Nymphidius Sabinus. The condition of dissidence is in itself morally and psychologically neutral: what creates positive or negative value pertains to the priorities of dissident motivation, to whether the dissident impulse originated from the mere recognition of self-interest or reached beyond it. It was not my intention to deny many flaws in the characters of the Neronian dissidents, whose stories made the stuff of this book. Their moral faults, as well as their political impotence, were historically conditioned: the tragedy of their plight consisted not even in the sense of doom arising from the ever-present threat of persecution, but in the absence of any alternative to the principate. The freedom— liberatas—of pre-Augustan times was now consistently seen as licentia, anarchy, and the Republic itself increasingly associated with civil bloodshed. On the one hand, this historical deadlock was morally destructive: it gave birth to such tormented personalities as Faenius Rufus or Antistius Sosianus. On the other, it provided dissidents with the option of a higher libertas—a free exercise of will that not only transcended their immediate interests, but led to a purely moral action independent of any possible practical result. It would be preposterously naive to argue that a few dozen dissidents, most of them little or not at all organized, proved capable of working Nero’s downfall. That happened due to the combination of many factors, and a modern parallel suggests itself—the developments in the former Soviet Union.

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Among the myriad of causes that effected a transformation and, eventually, a break-up of the Communist tyranny, the role of the handful of dissidents (at best, a couple of thousand for a country of almost half a billion) who belonged to the movement for human rights was probably the least significant. It seems certain, however, that none of this would have taken place, at least at the time when it did, if the Soviet democratic movement had never existed. Neither of these two dissident performances can be appreciated merely in terms of praxis. If there is a lesson to be drawn from each one, it lies in the worth of the individual stand and personal commitment—even though there were indeed very few among the Neronians who took that risk. Nonetheless, those few and their Flavian successors made a lasting impact not only upon their contemporaries but also on the generations to come, and their examples reached far beyond any rhetorical purpose. They contributed to the eventual humanization of the regime in the second century, and five centuries later, at the time when cultural memory suffered from dramatic deterioration, Boethius languishing in King Theodoric’s prison recalled the names of Seneca and Barea Soranus (whom he probably mistook for Thrasea Paetus) as the models of moral fortitude (Cons. Phil., 1, 3). Similarly, their achievement forms a part of our present cultural and political heritage. It was this perennial—and universal—aspect of his experience that Thrasea Paetus, “the Roman Sakharov,” meant in his last words to the Imperial officer who witnessed his suicide: Specta, iuvenis…—“Observe, young man….” The Return of the Proconsul I’ve decided to return to the emperor’s court once more I shall see if it’s possible to live there I could stay here in this remote province under the full sweet leaves of the sycamore and the gentle rule of sickly nepotists when I return I don’t intend to commend myself I shall applaud in measured portions smile in ounces frown discreetly for that they will not give me a golden chain this iron one will suffice I’ve decided to return tomorrow or the day after I cannot live among vineyards nothing here is mine trees have no roots houses no foundations the rain is glassy flowers smell of wax a dry cloud rattles against the empty sky so I shall return tomorrow or the day after in any case I shall return

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I must come to terms with my face again with my lower lip so it knows how to curb its scorn with my eyes so they remain ideally empty and with that miserable chin the hare of my face which trembles when the chief of guards walks in of one thing I am sure I will not drink wine with him when he brings his goblet nearer I will lower my eyes and pretend I’m picking bits of food from between my teeth besides the emperor likes courage of convictions to a certain extent to a certain reasonable extent he is after all a man like everyone else and already tired by all those tricks with poison he cannot drink his fill incessant chess this left cup is for Drusus from the right one pretend to sip then drink only water never lose sight of Tacitus go out into the garden and come back when they’ve taken away the corpse I’ve decided to return to the emperor’s court yes I hope that things will work out somehow (Zbigniew Herbert, Selected Poems, trans. by Czeslaw Milosz and Peter Dale Scott, with introduction by A.Alvarez, Ecco Press: New York 1986)

NOTES

The notes are intended as appendices to each chapter containing further information of scholarly interest and references to the modern literature. PREFACE In contrast to psychohistory as practiced by the followers of Eric Ericson, historical psychology does not postulate the use of the psychoanalytical method and tends to avoid any theoretical preconceptions. Formulation of its subject-matter goes back to Lucien Febvre’s famous essays of the late 1930s and early 1940s—see Febvre (1973:1ff.). Febvre’s program prescribed the conduct of historical research in close conjunction with the developments in theoretical psychology. However, so far this has proved impractical: the science of psychology grew exceedingly specialized and turned, in addition, into a battleground for divergent schools of thought. In consequence, it was social history that evolved from Febvre’s premises—an intellectual enterprise in many respects quite different from what he envisaged and possessing rules and methods of its own. Given these circumstances, it appears that, for the present, historical psychology is little served by an application of the modern scientific technique; it has largely to remain descriptive rather than theoretical, and to be engaged in exploration rather than definition or generalization. The recent works of such scholars as Natalie Davis and Theodore Zeldin offer prominent examples of the historico-psychological approach. In designating this book’s subject, I have preferred the term “dissidence” to the more common word “opposition,” since the latter implies a cohesion and a degree of collective awareness that the Romans lacked, and points to a behavior rather than an attitude. The Romans were deficient in any articulate language of dissidence and dissent. Nor did they possess any clear term for “opposition”—cf. Raaflaub (1986). Under the Republic, when disagreements within the senatorial oligarchy did not need to be concealed, words like partes or factiones were commonly employed. The verbs dissidere and dissentire (and their derivatives) were largely interchangeable in signifying discord or difference of opinion as regards both individuals and groups (cf., e.g., Cic. Pro Sest., 103, 6; 104, 3; De resp. harusp., 14, 8; 55, 3; and in many other passages; see entries in OLD and TLL). In the literature of the early Empire their usage in an

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explicitly political context seems to have sharply declined. Thus, for instance, Seneca employs the two verbs to indicate only a moral or psychological dilemma—cf., however, an oblique political innuendo in Epist. (82, 18) where it is suggested that one who makes a choice of evil for fear or gain suffers from dissidenia inter se iudicia; the younger Pliny, on the other hand, uses dissentire on very few occasions related to senatorial debate (Epist., 6, 13, 4; 8, 14, 20, 23; Pan., 76, 2, 2), apparently with no subversive intent, while characteristically stating at one point that a disagreement with a colleague means a contradiction with oneself (Pan., 91, 7). Both verbs play an even lesser role in Tacitus, with the notable exception of Ann., 1, 74, a scene designed to demonstrate senatorial complacency toward the emperor on the subject of maiestas: Gnaeus Piso suggests that Tiberius register his opinion first, so that he himself might know what to say and avoid the imprudence of disagreement (ne imprudens dissentiam). In this period political dissidence was better left unmentioned, at least in public, which makes the Roman failure to produce a proper word for it not surprising. In fact, no corresponding word existed even in modern Russian before it was imported from the West in the late 1960s: I well remember that when I first saw the pejorative use of the word “dissident” in a Soviet newspaper, I thought that it referred to a Protestant religious cult. On the word dissimulatio as the closest approximation to the notion of dissidence, see below (p. 252). On the actual working of the Roman government under the Empire, see an excellent recent discussion in Garnsey and Saller (1987), especially part 1; on the exceptional and personal role of the emperor, see Millar (1977: passim). For various aspects of popular discontent during the entire period of the principate, see MacMullen’s landmark study (1966) and also the proceedings of the Hardt symposium on the opposition and resistance to Imperial rule (Giovanni and van Berchem (1987)). On the Roman concept of libertas and its evolution in the late Republic and the early Empire, see Wirszubski (1950). Syme (1958) is a seminal and still unequaled study of Tacitus. For analytical bibliographies of Tacitean scholarship during the periods 1939–80 and 1981–6, see, respectively, Suerbaum (1990), and Benario (1990). I would like to single out Knabe’s (1981) valuable contribution, published only in Russian. A recent survey and appraisal of Tacitus’ work has reaffirmed “his immeasurable superiority as an historian, his insight into human behavior and the compelling nature of his style”— Sage (1990:1029); cf. Morford (1990:1623ff.) in his résumé on the Neronian books of the Annales. Walker (1952) is an example of an argument for Tacitus’ priority of literary concerns over historical. As regards Tacitus’ statement (or omissions) and interpretation of facts, see, most recently, Martin (1990:1501ff; for the Neronian books, 1550ff.). Syme argues definitively (1958: 282ff., 296, 708, 782) against those (e.g., Momigliano in CAH1 X, 319f.) who deny that Tacitus extensively perused senatorial acta and other documentary material; see also Talbert (1984:309f., 317). I quote translations from the Greek, with occasional minor adjustments, from respective Loeb editions. Translations from the Latin, unless otherwise indicated, are my own. I am indebted to Thomas Cole for his help in my rendering of numerous

NOTES TO INTRODUCTION 233

quotes from Tacitus into passable English. The most recent study of Suetonius is Wallace-Hadrill (1983); cf. Saller (1980) on the value of anecdote as a historical source. For Cassius Dio, see Millar (1964). In their political attitude Suetonius and Cassius Dio are no less pro-senatorial and anti-Imperial than Tacitus, and this is not surprising: they all addressed largely the same educated upper-class audience. The revision of the traditional view of Nero’s principate started as early as 1872 with Schiller and was promoted by Henderson (1903). Of the later arguments to the same effect, see, e.g., Bishop (1964—altogether lacking any scholarly apparatus), Bradley’s (1978) commentary to Suetonius’ Nero, and the series of articles by Rogers (1951, 1952, 1955, and 1964 bis) (cf. Chilton (1955) for a refutation of Rogers’ views on the treason trials), and Baldwin (1967, 1972, and 1974). For Nero as allegedly a Christian convert, see Pichon (1971). A balanced view is offered by MacMullen (1966); Warmington (1969); and Griffin (1984). My disagreement with revisionist scholarship is so profound that there is hardly any room for polemic; otherwise this entire project would have been restricted to repudiating their views point by point. For this reason I refer to their ideas only occasionally, when they have relevance to my own argument. The same goes for Marxist historians, notably Cizek (1972 and 1985), who treat the Neronian dissident scene in rigid terms of ideological struggle. Against overestimation of the rule of law—for instance, by Bauman (1974)—in Imperial Roman politics, Levick’s (1990:78), recent injunction is worth quoting: “For the stress under which participants lived scholars should recall other closed élites wielding unauthorized power over vast empires; and they should pay less attention to law.” INTRODUCTION K.Raaflaub (1986) designed a comprehensive program for prospective studies of the opposition to the Roman emperors. The present effort is intended as a modest contribution. During the last decade the controversy over the nature of the Augustan principate focused on revising the conclusions of R.Syme’s influential The Roman Revolution (1939)—see, in particular, the volume of essays Between Republic and Empire edited by Raaflaub and Toher (1990). The spectrum of opinions ranges from Zanker’s (1988) reassertion of the view of Augustus as a monarch to Eder’s (1990) belief in his genuine commitment to the republicanist values. The present book is not a study of Augustus. Much of the recent controversy concerning the social, constitutional, and “ideological” aspects of his rule is irrelevant to the contents of this work—for instance, it seems immaterial whether it was actually Augustus who spoke of res publica restituta or whether this was ascribed to him later; cf. Judge (1974). As far as it bears on my argument, I must admit that I remain for the most part persuaded by Syme’s interpretation of the new order as a regime of sole power based ultimately on military force and fostered by a powerful clique of

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supporters who directly benefited from it. The very fact that Augustus felt compelled to justify his career in the Res Gestae belies both the idea that he genuinely regarded himself as a republicanist and that he was seen as such by his contemporaries; otherwise he would not have resorted to such omissions and lies as, for instance, in the crucial chapter 34 where he claims that he transferred the res publica from his own potestas to the arbitrium of the Senate and People of Rome and that henceforth he enjoyed no more potentia than any of his colleagues in each magistracy—fully ignoring, e.g., the proconsular power he appropriated for extended periods of time. His dynastic policy bears an unmistakably monarchic stamp: he eagerly sought to be succeeded by his own blood (Gaius and Lucius Caesares) and adopted Tiberius, a mere stepson, only reluctantly. If during the Republic the senatorial oligarchy could be abolished only by a conspiracy or armed uprising, the same was true of Augustus: in this sense, he was the government. This could by no means have escaped the attention of his subjects—the idea of removing him from power, say, by a popular or senatorial vote would have been preposterous. It was only natural that Augustan literature failed to emphasize the awareness of the change and the contrast of the old and the new order, though it can be read, for example, between the lines of Livy’s famous pronouncement in Praef., 9: nec vitia nostra nec remedia pati possumus. By articulating this more definitively, one might have risked disgrace, like M.Antistius Labeo (cf. Gell. NA, 13, 12; Porph. ad Hor. Sat., 1, 3, 82), or of having one’s work suppressed, like that of T.Labienus (Sen. Rhet. Contr., praef. 4–5, 8)—cf. Raaflaub and Samons (1990:439f., 443f.) who, however, treat both cases as exceptions rather than the rule. Indirectly, this awareness is reflected in the laudatory and official tone of Propertius’ and Horace’s later work, while Ovid certainly fell a direct victim to the political change, and was disposed of by an exercise of Augustus’ own will. On the other hand, the very continuity between the Republic and the principate—cf., e.g., Millar (1973)—as well as the gradualness of the developments under Augustus only contributed to the mental and emotional confusion characteristic of the dissident outlook and behavior. On the attitude to private and public life in Rome, cf. Earl (1967:17): “All Romans saw political issues in personal and social terms, that is, in terms of morality.” Cicero agrees with Ennius that “the Roman state stands on men and morals” (De Re Publ., 5, 1f.); on the role of viri and mores in Cicero’s political thinking, see Wirszubski (1950: 85ff.); Utchenko (1966); Vogt (1963). The growth of individualism in the middle Republic following the end of the Punic Wars was in part influenced by the arrival of Greek culture; this accounts for the opposition of such characters as Cato the Censor to Hellenophilia and rhetorical education—cf., e.g., Kennedy (1972:52f.). The problem of control over ambitious provincial governors is encapsulated in the scandalous case of the Popilii brothers (173 BC) who proceeded to conduct an unauthorized war despite several explicit prohibitions by the Senate (Liv., 42, 7ff.). For identification of one’s faction with the welfare of the res publica, see Achard (1981: passim, esp. 41ff., 522ff.). (I owe this reference to Thomas Cole.)

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For a comprehensive discussion of the mos maiorum, see, e.g., Earl (1967: 28ff.). Note ibid., 21: “Virtus, for the Republican noble, consisted in the winning of personal pre-eminence and glory by the commission of great deeds in the service of the Roman state.” On the evolution of the meaning of libertas under the principate, see Wirszubski (1950). On Augustus’ lifestyle as a “private citizen,” see Suet. Div. Aug., 53, 72; on his moral legislation and religious reforms, see, e.g., Holmes (1931:2, 41ff.). As regards the potential of the principate for despotism, it suffices to recall that Caligula started to practice this less than twenty-five years after Augustus’ death. The confines of this book, however, do not allow any meaningful discussion of the growth of either Imperial power or dissident sensibilities in the interval between Augustus and Nero. The interested reader may consult the scholarly biographies of individual emperors. Modern criticism notwithstanding, the general picture remains one of harassment and resentment. Thus, one cannot dismiss, despite the persistent tendency toward rehabilitating Tiberius—cf. Seager (1972)—the frightening description by his younger contemporary Seneca (De Ben., 3, 26) regarding the effects of treason trials under him or such events as the suppression of Cremutius Cordus (Tac. Ann., 4, 34f.; Sen. Ad Marc., passim). For Caligula, note a recent book by Barrett (1989: esp. 73ff. and 213ff.), although it seems to me too partial to its subject; for Claudius—see Levick’s excellent new biography of him (1990: esp. 53ff.). An intellectual framework based on the opposition of libertas and servitium was built into senatorial minds and reflected in rhetorical practices (see examples collected s.v. in OLD); a striking instance is a speech ascribed by Tacitus (Ann., 6, 48) to L.Arruntius, cons. AD 6, on his deathbed concerning the preferability of death to further servitude. Some valuable observations on the collapse of the mos maiorum in the early Empire are made in the study of Tacitus by the Soviet historian Knabe (1981, in Russian). On Augustus’ censoria potestas, see Dio, 54, 10, 5; cf. RgdA, 8. Cf. Garnsey and Saller (1987:36): “the arrival of monarchy…deprived the Senate of its central authority in the state, silenced its more independent members and replaced them with a new breed of deferential senators of undistinguished background.” By the end of Nero’s reign no more than fifteen families of the old nobilitas were left—Talbert (1984:31); cf. Wiedemann (1989b:10). Von Premerstein (1937) originated an influential view that the emperor’s position rested not so much on any legal or constitutional basis as on the social bonds of patronage. The entire problem of personal patronage under the early Empire has been dealt with in extenso by Saller (1982). On the ethics of reciprocity, in the ideal and in reality, see ibid., esp. 14f., 26f., 69ff., 119f. On the emperor as a patron, see ibid., 32ff.; cf. Millar (1977:11ff. and passim, esp. 313). On the Imperial grants of senatorial rank and latus clavus, see ibid., 290ff. On the Imperial adlectio, ibid., 293ff.; cf. 290: “of all men who became members of the Senate under the Empire only those who were themselves the sons of the senators did not owe their entry to the Emperor.” For the emperor’s authority in the distribution of magistracies as a form of his patronage, see ibid., 300ff.: “The fact

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of Imperial appointment to a wide range of senatorial posts may be taken for granted” (ibid., 311). For purely Imperial appointments outside the cursus, cf. ibid., 301. On the insignia and ornamenta as beneficia, see Saller (1982:45); Talbert (1984:366f.); Campbell (1984:361f.). On their use as illustrating the divorce of status and function, see Millar (1977:308). For the emperor’s subvention of impoverished senatorial families, see ibid., 297; note Sen. De Clem., 1, 13, 5, on gratia for the Imperial beneficia as a manifestation of loyalty. On the noble beneficiaries of Nero’s liberalitas, cf. Suet. Nero, 10, 1; Tac. Ann., 13, 34, 1. It appears, however, an overstatement to regard, pace Wiedemann (1989b: 6f., 20), the entire Empire as the emperor’s personal clientela. The senatorial oath taken annually, in acta Caesarum, made sense in political, religious, and institutional terms, not in terms of Imperial patronage—cf. Millar (1977:351); Talbert (1984: 201). The oath of allegiance taken by the people at large was not the same as the military sacramentum—see Campbell (1984:27); cf. ibid., 28: “For the mass of the population any oath was a formality…and it is not even clear how many of them took [it].” Nor could it be, in any legal sense, an oath of clients. The emperor (like other aristocrats) seems to have possessed a limited clientela of his own, but it was not identical with the plebs urbana—see Saller (1982:68, 72). Even though in principle every inhabitant of the Empire could receive or apply for the Imperial beneficium, in practice his relationship with the mass of provincial subjects “was one of anonymity and obedience” (ibid., 74). On patronage as a vehicle for perpetuating cultural conservatism and even a substitute for family ties, see ibid., 142f. On the overall effects of the principate on the status of the senatorial order, cf. Talbert (1984:174): “sweeping imperial prerogatives drastically curtailed the freedom which the Senate enjoyed during the Republic.” Talbert’s is the most comprehensive study of the Imperial Senate, although in my view it is slightly hampered by an implicit comparison of its working with that of the House of Commons (to me, it seems that the pre-Gorbachevian Supreme Soviet might provide a closer, but still not fully accurate parallel). Augustus (and some of his successors) made efforts to create the appearance of active senatorial involvement in the decision-making process—see Talbert (1984:137ff.), for lex Iulia de senatu habendo; cf. Dio, 60, 11, 8, on Claudius’ enforcement of senatorial attendance. Even though average senators might take their duties seriously—as, e.g., pace Talbert (1984:269)—it was a far cry from “dyarchy” as postulated by Mommsen and his followers; otherwise, principatus and libertas would never have come into conflict—cf. Wirszubski (1950:136). For the Senate’s investiture of each new emperor, see Talbert (1984:354): “It must be acknowledged that this function was usually a formality;” cf. ibid., 464 on the “wider constitutional uncertainty of the age.” On the Senate’s reception of embassies, see ibid., 408ff.; cf., however, ibid., 412: “[The Senate’s] role in diplomacy slowly declined.” The legislative (ibid., 431ff.) and juridical (ibid., 460ff.) roles of the Senate were major innovations under the Empire; but “all senatus consulta enjoyed…legislative force because the emperor himself upheld their authority” (ibid., 433) and: “Notionally, the Senate judged cases according to the laws, and was free of outside interference…

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Neither principle was adhered to in practice” (ibid., 471). For the senatorial supervision of public order and religion, see ibid., 383ff. As regards policies of war and peace, “in practice,…all such prerogative was ceded to the emperor” (ibid., 428). From AD 44 the public treasury, the aerarium, was managed by the emperor’s appointees (Dio, 60, 24; Suet. Div. Cl., 24). The role of the aerarium was, however, soon superseded by that of the Imperial fund, the fiscus, whose agents both collected and spent much of public revenue: on this, see Talbert (1984:375ff. and references): “In brief, there developed a whole financial administration controlled by the Emperor” (ibid., 378). After Caligula, no legionary force was stationed in the senatorial provinces (ibid., 392f.). Campbell (1984) demonstrated that the military field in which ambitious senators could excel under the principate “was disappointingly small” (ibid., 348). Cf. ibid., 319, on the failure of certain emperors to reward men properly for obvious merit as causing their lack of popularity among the upper classes. For the usurpation of triumph by the Imperial family, see ibid., 138f.; for the same as regards the imperator acclamations, see 127f.; cf. Talbert (1984: 362f.). On the ornamenta triumphalia as an inadequate substitute for triumph, see Campbell (1984:359ff.); cf., on their devaluation, Tac. Agr., 40; and Ann., 13, 53. For the senatorial canvassing of offices, see, e.g., Sen. De Brev. Vit., 7, 8; De Ben., 2, 27, 4; and De Ira, 3, 31, 2, for the range of benefactions that the senators could expect from the emperor; cf. Millar (1977: 313): “It would not be easy to find many examples of senatorial careers which will not have required some Imperial patronage at some stage.” There were three possible attitudes the emperor might present to an aspiring candidate: rejection, permission to stand, and recommendation—ibid., 303. Candidati Caesaris stood in no need of canvassing and could not be rejected by senatorial vote—ibid., 304f. For the development of the consulate into an Imperial gift, see ibid., 307ff. See also ibid., 301, on Imperial interference with the governorships of the senatorial provinces (e.g., Tac. Agr., 42; Suet. Gal., 3, 7); in fact, the rapid entranchment of…patronage throughout the senatorial career must necessarily have affected the relationship to the emperor even of those magistrates in Rome who owed their current positions to election by their fellow-senators, and of proconsuls who owed theirs to the lot

so that, in the final analysis, the emperor “personally appointed…a substantial portion of the senators who held office in Rome, Italy or the provinces” (Millar (1977:313)). On the divisive strategy of some emperors in channeling their beneficia through strongmen, with resulting personal factions, see Saller (1982: 77). For the offense that the Imperial freedmen caused, see Suet. Div. Cl., 28. Saller (1982:66) notes the inversion of social roles in which senators had to accept humiliation from their inferiors. Note in Epict., 1, 26, 11f., a reference to an unnamed senator who begged Epaphroditus for a subvention from Nero; also ibid., 4, 1, 148, calling a senator “a slave of slaves;” cf. also Millar (1977: 69ff.). On Imperial control of senators’

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movements, see Talbert (1984:140f.). As regards the inherent paradox in the status of the senators under the principate, cf. ibid., 87: On the one hand, they were supposedly exalted, independent leaders of the state; on the other, they were servants of the emperor, totally dependent upon his favor both for individual advancement, and for maintaining the position of the corporate body, indeed of their class as a whole.

For the anxieties and tribulations of senatorial politics, see, e.g., Epict., 1, 19, 24f.; 3, 24, 36f.; 4, 1, 40; 60; 138ff.; 7, 21ff.; 10, 19ff.; cf. Millar (1977:74): “The background of fear attended all the Imperial service.” On the high senatorial turnover (seventy-five per cent), see Garnsey and Saller (1987:123); cf. Talbert (1984:30, with references). On the senators’ apathy and inertia, cf., notably, Jos. Ant. Jud., 19, 248; on their reluctance to speak out of fear, see Talbert (1984: 262f.). A papyrus (FIRA2 1, 44) preserves a fragment of a harangue, usually attributed to Claudius—Talbert (1984:499f.); contra, Millar (1977:350, note)—against their practice of adopting his proposals without any deliberation. Still, as Talbert (1984:477) points out, the emperor “expected his views to be adopted”; cf. ibid., 172ff. A telling episode is reported by Tacitus (Ann., 1, 74) in which Gn. Piso asks Tiberius to state his opinion first so that Piso will not “impudently disagree” with him by accident—cf. Millar (1977:348). For the Senate’s adulatio of the emperors and their lack of moderation in bestowing honors on them, see Talbert (1984:359ff.). On individual senators’ disrespect for the Senate, see ibid., 85ff.; cf. ibid., 91ff., on the odium felt for the senatorial order both by individual emperors and by urban plebs. As regards Roman attitudes toward Greek wisdom, cf. the equal disapproval of philosophia by such diverse individuals as Iulia Procula, mother of Agricola (Tac. Agr., 4), Seneca Rhetor (Sen. Epist., 108, 22), Nero (Tac. Ann., 14, 17), and Agrippina (Suet. Nero, 52). For dissident accommodation to reality, see my article on Tacitus’ Dialogus—Rudich (1985). For the meaning and usage of the word existimatio, see OLD, 644; see also an illuminating discussion in Yavetz (1983: esp. 215ff.); in the context of patronage, see Saller (1982:126f.). According to a fragment from Suetonius (Prat., 176), simulamus quae nescimus, dissimulamus quae scimus; cf. OLD, 557; also in TLL. As often in Latin, the word dissimulatio had many meanings and connotations, among them: psychological and ethical (e.g., Ter. An., 132; Ph., 249; Cic. De Off., 1, 105, 13; Hor. Ep., 1, 9, 9; Carm., 2, 20, 17; Ov. Ars., 1, 276; 3, 553; Fast., 3, 634; 4, 850; 6, 90; Suet. Div. Aug., 66; Tib., 42; Nero, 29; Tac. Ann., 3, 52; Mart., 5, 25, 11; 5, 36, 2; Serv. Ad Aen., 2, 247); juridical (e.g., Cic. De Off., 2, 79, 4; 3, 64, 2); and rhetorical (e.g., Cic. De Inv., 1, 20, 22; 27, 31; De Orat., 2, 269; 3, 203; Sen. Rhet. Contr., 1, praef. 21; Quint., 2, 17, 6; 4, 1, 60; 5, 14, 35; 6, 3, 84f.; 4, 14; 9, 1, 29; 2, 13; 44; 10, 1, 20). Each of these categories, depending on the context, may or may not be relevant

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to dissident behavior. There is, however, ample evidence on the usage of dissimulatio and its cognate verb in a clearly political context, and this alone justifies my employment of both the word and the concept as an instrument for analysis; cf. for the republican period: Cic. De Lege Agr., 3, 13, 7; Phil., 2, 84, 9; De Off., 2, 79, 4; 3, 61, 2; Tusc. Disp., 3, 35, 4; Ad Fam., 10, 8, 4; and for the early Imperial: e.g., Hor. Epist., 1, 19 (in the context of patronage cf. Mart., 4, 88, 5, 16); Ov. Fast., 2, 844; Trist., 1, 1, 62; 1, 7, 5; 4, 3, 54; 5, 1, 50; Ex pont., 3, 9, 40; Plin. Epist., 6, 27, 3; 9, 13, 21; Pan., 62, 5; Sen. De Ira, 2, 33, 1; De Brev. Vit., 10, 8; De Ben., 6, 32, 4; Nat. Quaest., 4a praef. 5; Epist., 94, 25; 95, 9; Suet. Div. Iul., 31; Tib., 37; Cal., 10; Div. Cl., 1; Tac. Agr., 6; 18; 39; Hist., 1, 26; 2, 56; 2, 92; 3, 54; 4, 11; 4, 18; 4, 24; 4, 54; 4, 56; Ann., 2, 42; 2, 57; 3, 2; 3, 64; 4, 19; 4, 71; 6, 50; 11, 26; 13, 15; 13, 49; 15, 69; 16, 5. Tacitus must have been conscious of the problem even in his minor work: Maternus’ first speech (Dial., 11ff.), with its emphasis on innocentia versus eloquentia, and the approval (Germ., 22) of the Germans’ custom (cf. gens non astuta nec callida) of deliberating on political matters while feasting (“when they are incapable of pretense”) may both be read as indirect attacks on the senatorial dissimulatio. The same word could also have been curiously employed with a positive meaning, as, e.g., in Vell., 2, 99, 2; 114, 3 (Tiberius disregarding human faults out of benevolence). On Titius Rufus, cf. Talbert (1984:92). For the equestrian order under the Empire, Stein (1927) still remains valuable; cf. Millar (1977:279ff.). On the avoidance of a senatorial career by equites, see Talbert (1984:76f.); cf. Claudius’ removal of the equestrian dignitas from those who declined promotion to the Senate (Suet. Div. Cl., 24). The placing in decuriae of iudices and the granting of equus publicus (but not the awarding of the equestrian status itself) could function as dignities conferred by the emperor on individual knights—Millar (1977: 283). On adlectio and grants of latus clavus as a mechanism for promoting knights to senatorial rank and “a constituent element in the Emperor’s relations with the upper classes,” see ibid., 292ff. All “pre-senatorial” appointments—military (tribune of legion) and civil (vigintivirate)—were exclusively the prerogative of the emperor— ibid., 304; cf. ibid., 285 on the emperor as the source of equestrian appointments regarded as beneficia for which gratia was due. For the growth of the Imperial bureaucracy largely comprised of equestrian procurators (and for their careers), see Pflaum (1960–1); cf. Saller (1982:141), with reference to Dio, 52, 25, 5, on the emperor’s equestrian assistants serving as watchdogs over the senatorial officials. See, on the other hand, Saller (1982:133), on senatorial patronage of the equestrian militiae; and ibid., 74ff., also 139 (with references) for the social cohesion and cultural integration resulting from the system of patronage in which both senators and knights acted as brokers and mediators. Thus Tacitus could, for instance, speak of equestris nobilitas (Agr., 4); cf. Garnsey and Saller (1987:114): “As the number of equestrian offices increased and their hierarchy developed, the office-holding minority of the order came to resemble senators insofar as they derived honour from the rank of their office.”

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Regarding grants of citizenship as a common form of Imperial beneficium, see Millar (1977:344f.). For provincial maladministration in the early Empire, see Brunt (1961: esp. 201ff.); cf. a list of de repetundis trials in Talbert (1984:506ff.). Under Tiberius alone revolts broke out in Africa (Tac. Ann., 2, 53; 3, 20ff.), Gaul (ibid., 3, 40ff.), and among the Frisians (ibid., 4, 72ff.); for the troubles in Alexandria under Caligula and Claudius, see Philo. In Flacc. and Leg., passim; for city disturbances in Greece and the Orient, see, e.g., Plut. Praec. rei publ. ger., esp. 19, 32; Dio Chrys., 39, 43 passim; Paus., 7, 17; cf. Brunt (1961:213, notes 74 and 76, with references). For Boudicca’s revolt under Nero, see below, chapter 2 (pp. 46f.). I plan a separate study of ethnic, religious, and cultural dissent in this period that will include a discussion of Jewish nationalists and dissident Greek intellectuals, among them Epictetus, Demetrius the Cynic, and Apollonius of Tyana. For the relationship of the people of Rome and the emperor, cf. Millar (1977: 368ff.). On discontent or unrest among urban masses under the Julio-Claudians, see Yavetz (1969:12ff., 103ff.); at the circus and the theater- ibid., 18ff.; caused by the grain shortage-e.g., Dio, 55, 26ff.; Tac. Ann., 12, 43; Suet. Div. Cl., 18; on behalf of popular individuals—Tac. Ann., 3, 11 (in the aftermath of Germanicus’ suspected murder); ibid., 5, 4 (in favor of the elder Agrippina and her sons). For similar outbursts under Nero—against the execution of Pedanius Secundus’ familia and in defense of Octavia—see below, chapter 2 (pp. 49f., 71f.). On the tradition of factional infighting in the Imperial Senate, cf. Saller (1982: 142). Despite the fact that every senator had to collaborate to a certain degree with the regime, it does not follow, contra Baldwin (1972 and 1974), that there were no crucial differences in the moral and political behavior of a delator and that of a mere loyalist (cf. below, chapter 2 and notes, pp. 63f., 279). For multi bonique and pauci et validi as temperamental and psychological types, see Knabe (1970), an important article published in Russian (with an English résumé on p. 85); cf. on “l’opposition morale,” Boissier (1875). For the development of the maiestas law, see Bauman (1967: 171ff., with caution); Levick (1976:183ff.). The public quaestiones de maiestate ceased to function around AD 15; thereafter charges of treason were heard either by the Senate or by the emperor—Talbert (1984:466). At some point after Tiberius the senators were forbidden to act as delatores (Dig., 49, 24, 18; cf. Dio, 58, 21, 61), but this ban did not apply to maiestas—Talbert (1984:45). Although suicides at moments of political despair prompted by fear of financial and social ruin are recorded from the time of the Republic (such as that of Gaius Verres, indicted by Cicero de repetundis), the Julio-Claudian rule greatly diminished the chances of survival or rehabilitation for the disgraced—Levick (1976:189 and notes); cf. Talbert (1984:479): “The frequency with which defendants committed suicide before the completion of their hearing indicates how they might feel doomed in such circumstances” (a man legally condemned forfeited his estate and was debarred from burial; a voluntary death could secure respect for his will, especially if the emperor was named one of the heirs—cf., e.g., Tac. Ann., 6, 29; 15, 58). For the emperor’s interference with maiestas trials and the Senate’s submission to his will, see Talbert (1984:477ff.). On condemnations and

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confiscations, and on bona damnatorum as “the most crucial” source of the emperor’s revenues, “loaded with social and political overtones and legal ambiguities,” see Millar (1977: 163ff.); for the rewards and fines of the delatores, depending on the outcome of the prosecution, see Talbert (1984:487). Politically inspired trials encouraged leading aristocrats to build up their own clientela in the Senate—Saller (1982: 30); on the encouragement of the delatores through beneficia, see ibid., 78. In the final analysis, it was the emperor, not the law, that defined legality and procedure. In Seneca’s De Clementia Nero is clearly portrayed as above the law (1, 1, 2; cf. 1, 5, 1)—a view that eventually found juridical formulation: princeps omnibus legibus solutus est—see Suerbaum (1970:88). For the story of Appius Silanus, cf. Levick (1990:58ff.). Two further episodes illustrate the lack of definition in the concept of maiestas during the period: under Tiberius, a certain Pontius was prevented from ruin by a loyal slave’s advice not to leave for a restroom while wearing the emperor’s portrait ring on his finger (Sen. De Ben., 3, 26, 1; cf. Dio, 58 fr. 2); and, under Claudius, the Petra brothers were impeached in AD 47 on the pretext that one of them saw the emperor in a dream that could be interpreted as predicting his death in the near future (Tac. Ann., 11, 4). For maiestas trials under Tiberius, see Levick (1976: 184ff.); under Caligula, Barrett (1989:64ff.); under Claudius, Levick (1990:119ff.). Not surprisingly, we rarely hear of those who volunteered to act in public as a defender in the case of maiestas; cf. Tacitus’ emphasis on the few men who courageously chose to do so, among them, M.Aemilius Lepidus (Ann., 3, 50) and Thrasea Paetus (below, chapter 2, pp. 57f.). In attempting to impeach prominent delatores, their enemies resorted to a variety of means, including charges of magic, adultery, corruption, extortion, and even maiestas. Prominent examples are Firmius Catus under Tiberius (Tac. Ann., 4, 31) and Tarquitius Priscus under Claudius (ibid., 12, 59); for the case of Suillius Rufus under Nero, see below, chapter 1 (p. 28). Caligula proceeded against many of Tiberius’ informers, particularly those who took part in the persecution of Germanicus’ family—ibid., 4, 71; also Dio, 59, 4; cf. 13. Note below, chapter 5 (p. 183), for Eprius Marcellus’ attempt at self-justification. On the amici principis, see Crook (1955:21ff.); on the cohors comitorum—ibid., 24f. (note Nero’s amici in his prosopographical index: ## 2, 17, 19, 20, 81, 88, 97, 104, 108, 127, 137, 139, 148, 151, 153, 188, 189, 232, 240, 254, 294, 340, 346, 351, 353); also Millar (1977:110ff.). Under the Republic the concept of amicitia possessed a variety of meanings—from political alliance to private relationship. For its deterioration under the principate, see, e.g., Sen. De Ben., 6, 34; also Seager (1977); cf. Millar’s (1977:111) observation that “‘friendship’ with the Emperor involved a complex of undefined relationships, with privileges and dangers which were both essentially dependent on the character or passing whim of the Emperor himself.” Note Campbell (1984:355ff.) on amici and comites as military advisors. Not all the emperor’s amici acted as his councillors ad hoc; they might also comprise “the dilettanti, the wits, the sycophants and so on”—Crook (1955:25). On one Neronian example, P.Vatinius, see below, chapter 4 (pp. 81f.). For the controversy about

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consilium principis and its reform by Hadrian, see Crook (1955:31ff.). On the amici Caesaris and patronage, see Saller (1982: 59ff.); on the personal clientelae built by the amici and based on the emperor’s beneficia, see ibid., 78; on proximity to the emperor as a determinant of political patronage, see ibid., 141; on individual access to him, see Millar (1977:465ff.). On the emperor’s amicitiae renunciatio, see Rogers (1959); cf. Crook (1955: 27). As regards the prominent amici who were disgraced and perished, they number, among others, C.Cornelius Gallus under Augustus (Dio, 53, 23; Suet. Div. Aug., 66), Sex. Vistilius under Tiberius (Tac. Ann., 6, 9), and Valerius Asiaticus under Claudius (ibid., 11, 3). For the amici as a source of continuity in Imperial policy, see Crook (1955:29). On the Imperial household, see in extenso Weaver (1972); for the role of his domain, see Millar (1977:175ff.); note Wiedemann (1989b: 6f., with references) on the link between patrimonium and imperium, although it should not be overstated. On the emperor’s freedmen secretaries, see Millar (1977:69ff.); on their administrative “professionalism”—Garnsey and Saller (1987:26). As regards the odium they inspired and the existimatio of the bearers of power, cf. Plin. Paneg., 88: “For you know that the chief sign of the emperor’s lack of greatness is great freedmen.” For the officia under Claudius, see Momigliano (1961:41ff.); and Weaver (1972:259ff.). The freedmen holders of “secretarial” posts are, however, much less fully attested under Nero than under Claudius—Millar (1977:77). Regarding the problem of Imperial succession under the principate, see, e.g. Campbell (1984:126f., 374ff.); on the role of inheritance in the succession, cf. Wiedemann (1989b: 7f.); on women’s rights and adultery in the Imperial family as a political threat, see ibid.; cf. Talbert (1984:466). For Tiberius’ accession, see Levick (1976:68ff.); for that of Claudius, see Levick (1990:29ff.). The stemma of Augustus’ family is in Syme (1986: table 3). On the fate of the Iunii Silani, see McAlindon (1956: with references). Tacitus mentions two “dynastic” imposters—the false Agrippa Postumus (Ann., 2, 41; cf. Dio, 57, 16, 3) and the false Drusus Caesar (Ann., 6, 5). On M.Aemilius Lepidus’ involvement in the conspiracy of AD 39, see Barrett (1989:106). On Tiberius’ dissimulatio, cf. Levick (1976:17, 175, 222); on his withdrawal to Capri ibid., 167, 224; on Claudius’ scholarly pursuits, see Levick (1990: 17ff.). For a fair assessment of Nero’s character, see, e.g., Griffin (1984:18ff.). On Nero’s scant interest in governmental procedures, cf. Manning (1975:168 and note); on his infrequent attendance at the Senate, see Talbert (1984:177). In the case of maiestas trials he preferred communication by letter—ibid., 178. The hypothesis of L’Orange (1942) and his followers that Nero’s enthusiasm for acting related to his alleged self-representation as the sun-god is now refuted—see the summary of objections to it in Manning (1975). Manning’s own belief that by acting on stage Nero deliberately sought to cultivate his popularity with the plebs which “would have effected a considerable change in the political relationships between the princeps and various groups in the Empire he governed” (ibid., 167) seems unpersuasive. Note

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Griffin (1984:41ff.) arguing that Nero intended a sort of “cultural revolution” with the purpose of re-educating the Roman people so that they would absorb Greek attitudes and adopt their lifestyle. On the propaganda war waged against Nero by Vindex, see below, chapter 6 (p. 211). On the other hand, various rumors favorable to Nero could easily have been spread post factum by his former associates under Otho, Vitellius, and even Domitian. Note also Syme’s (1958:517ff.) contention that Tacitus’ portrayal of Nero reflects his anxiety in regard to Hadrian. In my view, the revisionist argument, pace Rogers (1955); Baldwin (1967) et al., seeking to explain Nero’s repressive policies in terms of the exposure and prevention of real conspiracies is an unfounded speculation. Cf. Talbert (1984: 479) on high rank as a possible motive in Nero’s attacks on certain individuals. For his patronage of arts and letters, see Sullivan (1985:19ff.); cf. Griffin (1984: 125ff., 146ff.) (especially as regards architecture). A belief in Nero’s putative indifference to offense is held by, among others, Bradley, commentary, 237ff.; also Sullivan (1985:103, 106); but on Suetonius’ unreliable generalizations, see, e.g., Wallace-Hadrill (1983:160f.). For Nero’s anger at personal offense, see below, chapters 2 (Antistius Sosianus) (p. 56), 3 (Lucan, Vestinus Atticus) (pp. 95, 120), and 4 (Annaeus Cornutus, Curtius Montanus) (pp. 151, 178). On his own ability for dissimulatio, see below, chapter 2 (p. 66). On Caligula’s divine honors, see, e.g., Barrett (1989:140ff.); for Nero’s “artistic tyranny,” see Griffin (1984:119ff.). Regarding double entendre in the dissident discourse, cf. MacMullen: “There was a good deal one could say without seeming to say anything at all” (1966:36) and “Code depends on decoder” (ibid., 41). In connection with interpretatio prava, note Mart. Epigr., 1 praef., mentioning malignus interpres (I owe this reference to Brian Roots). For animus nocendi, see Williams (1978: 205f.); cf. also Levick (1976: 194) (hostilis animus). Much of what may be said of the dangers confronting a Julio-Claudian author is true in regard to an orator, that is to say, to every active politician; any oral delivery, not only a written text, could be charged with animus nocendi and subjected to interpretatio prava. Cf. Herington (1966: 429) on Seneca: “That pressure is almost unimaginable to the ordinary citizen of the present day, perhaps even to the statesman.” Note a remarkable charge of animus nocendi in a case where the author’s intent was exactly the opposite: the poetaster Clutorius Priscus produced, in advance, a poetic lament on the expected death of the younger Drusus, who subsequently happened to recover; instead of receiving a hopedfor award for loyalty, the unfortunate man was accused of treason and executed (Tac. Ann., 3, 49ff.). The censorial formula “uncontrollable subtext,” proved detrimental to my own scholarly career in the former Soviet Union: in 1968 my paper on the Imperial administration under Claudius was denied publication on the grounds of its possessing an “uncontrollable subtext”—that is, of leading the reader to a comparison of the Imperial ius commendationis with the electoral practice of pre-Gorbachevian Russia. On Augustus’ book-burning, see Williams (1982) also Cramer (1945); cf. Raaflaub and Samons (1990:440ff.). The vagaries of Imperial censorship can be seen in the fate

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of the Annales of A.Cremutius Cordus: approved by Augustus in spite of the author’s calling Brutus and Cassius “the last of the Romans,” the same book provided Tiberius (or Sejanus) with a pretext for Cremutius Cordus’ destruction (see Tac. Ann., 4, 34ff.), but was again permitted under Caligula (Suet. Cal., 16). An example of a rhetorician who suffered under Caligula for an exercise in praise of tyrannicide is given by Dio (59, 20, 6). The interaction of sexuality and politics is exemplified by the triangles of Nero-Otho-Poppaea Sabina (below, chapter 1, pp. 29f.) and NeroVestinus Atticus-Statilia Messallina (below, chapter 3, p. 120); note also Caligula’s abduction of the wife of C.Calpurnius Piso, the future Neronian conspirator (ibid.). For a discussion of the Quellenforschung problem regarding Tacitus’ Annales, see Questa (1967) and Syme (1958:176ff., 287ff.). On Cluvius Rufus, see Syme (1958: esp. 178f., 126ff.); Bradley, commentary, 133; cf. chapters3, 5, and 6. On Fabius Rusticus, see Syme (1958: esp. 179, 289ff.). Syme rightly points out (ibid., 300) that his dissident connections placed him “in the near vicinity of peril when so many were killed or relegated” and suggests (ibid., 293) that he may have been merely not prominent enough to merit harassment (cf. ibid., 300 and footnotes, for the argument that Fabius Rusticus was present at Seneca’s death-scene): he is cited (Ann., 15, 61) for the detail about the movements of Gavius Silvanus whom Nero sent to supervise Seneca’s suicide (see below, chapter 3, p. 110). On Pliny the Elder as Tacitus’ source, see Syme (1958:60ff., 179ff., 288ff.). 1 THE YEARS OF EXPECTATION Regarding the circumstances of Claudius’ death, Scramuzza (1940:92ff.); Pack (1942– 3:150f.); Mehl (1974:175); Bradley, commentary, 195f., abstain from any final judgment; cf. against the historicity of the traditional account, Kroll (1925: 197ff.); for it, Charlesworth (CAH, 10:696f.); most recently, Levick (1990:77): “On balance, it looks as if Claudius’ departure was brought about by Agrippina rather than due to her good luck.” On Agrippina’s circumstances at the time of Claudius’ death, cf. Syme (1958: 306ff., 482f., 692f.); Pack (1942–3:150f.). She had, among other things, to purge Britannicus’ household (Tac. Ann., 12, 41f.); to depose the praetorian prefects L.Lusius Geta and Rufrius Crispinus (on him, cf. below, chapter 4, p. 148) and to transfer their united power to Afranius Burrus (Tac., loc. cit.); and to destroy Messallina’s still influential mother, Domitia Lepida (ibid., 64f.; cf. below, p. 264). According to Tacitus (Ann., 13, 1), Nero resisted the execution of Narcissus, who was forced to commit suicide on his way back from Sinuessa where he had been taking a medical treatment at the time of Claudius’ death. Dio (61, 4) reports that before taking his life Narcissus burned letters to him which he considered dangerous—most likely containing evidence of their author’s sympathy for Britannicus. Against Livia’s complicity in Augustus’ death, see Charlesworth (1923: 145ff.); and esp. Syme (1958:482ff.). On the murder of Agrippa Postumus, see Seager (1972:

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49ff.); Jameson (1975:287ff.); Levick (1976:65f). It could be that a small group of Tiberius’ enemies entertained some design to manipulate Augustus’ last grandson: later on it cost Tiberius some effort to suppress the imposter named Clemens who posed as Agrippa Postumus and apparently enjoyed support from the upper echelons of the populace (Tac. Ann., 2, 39f.; Suet. Tib., 25; Dio, 57, 16, 3f.); cf. Mogenet (1954). Tib. Iulius Caesar Nero [Gemellus]—Tiberius’ natural grandson (as distinct from Caligula, who was adopted), born to the younger Drusus (Drusus Iulius Caesar) and Iulia Claudia Livilla, who was later exposed as Sejanus’ mistress. Tiberius’ formal will provided that both Caligula and Gemellus would share power (Dio, 59, 1, 1), though the latter was considerably younger. Caligula succeeded in nullifying this provision, claiming that Tiberius Gemellus “is still just a boy and requires guardians, schoolmasters and tutors” (ibid.)—see Wiedemann (1989a:124) and (1989b:37); cf. also Levick (1976:220 and notes). First appointed pro forma by Caligula princeps iuventutis, Gemellus was shortly afterwards disposed of by him on a trumped-up charge of conspiracy (Suet. Cal., 15; Dio, 59, 8, 1; Philo. Leg., 26ff.) On M.Iunius Silanus, see, e.g., Syme (1958:559, and 1986:192, 281); Griffin (1984:73, 236); Koestermann, 3, 232ff. He must have been born in AD 14. On odium paternum in principis, see McAlindon (1956:119ff.), although its role, as well as the hereditary component in the opposition to the Julio-Claudian regime, must not be exaggerated; on the Silani as victims of persistent Imperial persecution, see ibid., passim; also Syme (1986:188ff., 197ff.). Dio (61, 6, 4) emphasizes M.Silanus’ reputedly decent character, but makes a less sophisticated statement on Agrippina’s motives than Tacitus: “She killed him as she did not wish him to be preferred to Nero because of her son’s manner of life”—hardly an accurate view, given the general enthusiasm in regard to Nero’s character at the time of his accession. On Claudius’ playing the fool under Tiberius and Caligula, see Suet. Div. Cl., 38; Dio, 60, 2, 4; Jos. Ant. Jud., 19, 221. Caligula’s opinion of M.Silanus’ character (“the golden sheep”) is crucial: we may assume that Claudius, a man of like disposition, would never have claimed the Imperial power unless forced. On L.Iunius Silanus, cf. Levick (1990:58f., 118f., 142f.). On other potential rivals to Nero besides M.Silanus, cf. Griffin (1984:193ff.); Wiedemann (1989b:54ff.). Rogers’ (1955) argument on this matter is, however, weakened by unwarranted speculations. P.Celer is identified in the inscription from Ephesus (AE, 1924, 79) as procurator Caesaris accompanying one Helvidius Priscus, most likely the famous future dissident, at that time a provincial quaestor (cf. Tac. Ann., 12, 49; and Koestermann, 3, 234). Helius later became the “regent” of Rome during Nero’s Greek Tour of AD 66–7 (see below, chapter 5, p. 201). On the long-time expectation of a Golden Era, cf. Alföldy (1977); on the popular enthusiasm in regard to the young Nero before his adoption by Claudius, see Yavetz (1969:24), and upon his accession, ibid., 122ff. Champlin’s (1978) hypothesis redating Calpurnius Siculus to the third century seems to me entirely unconvincing.

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On the reflection of Camillus Scribonianus’ bellum civile of AD 43 in Calp. Sic. 1, see Wiseman (1982:62ff.). Caligula followed Augustus’ precedent of publishing rationes imperii, which Tiberius neglected to do (Suet. Cal., 16; cf. Dio, 59, 3, 6). On Claudius’ accession, cf. Ehrhardt (1978:52f.); Wiedemann (1989b:44). Claudius’ favorite oath was by Augustus’ name (Suet. Div. Cl., 11). Tac. Ann., 14, 48 (tum primum revocata ea lex) presupposes that the maiestas law was dormant under Claudius: the only recorded case, against L.Vitellius (Tac. Ann., 12, 42), was inconsequential and quickly dismissed. An example of Claudius’ deliberations in cubiculo is the trial of Valerius Asiaticus (Tac. Ann., 11, 2). On Nero’s image as the new Augustus on contemporary Alexandrian coins, see Jal (1957:246). For Nero’s proclamation in the praetorian camp on October 13, AD 54 and his promise of a generous donative to the guards see Tac. Ann., 12, 59. Campbell (1984:376) finds Tacitus’ portrayal of it sarcastic. On the general importance of the prospective emperor’s adlocutio to the army, cf. ibid., 82ff. Dio (61, 3, 1) specifies that, like his “coronation” speech in the Senate, Nero’s adlocutio to the praetorians was written by Seneca. On his “coronation address,” cf. Scramuzza (1940:227); Syme (1958:334); Koestermann, 3, 240ff. In retrospect, the division of political spheres enunciated in Nero’s speech appears misleading: thus Italy, for instance, was juridically dealt with both by him and by the Senate—Talbert (1984:383, 393f., 412, 427): cf. Millar (1977:347). The Senate decreed that his “coronation address” was to be engraved in silver and read aloud at the beginning of every year (Dio, 61, 3, 1). Tac. Ann., 13, 5, says that upon Nero’s accession “many things were enacted by the decision of the Senate,” but only two are actually mentioned: that no lawyer was to plead in court for either fee or bounty; and that the quaestors-designate were not obliged to produce a gladiatorial spectacle. This latter decree was passed despite the opposition of Agrippina, who saw in it a reversal of Claudius’ policy. Nero’s “Augustan” and “constitutionalist” propaganda seems reflected in his practice, which lasted until AD 64, of striking coins with the legend EX S[ENATUS] C[ONSULTO]— Griffin (1984:57f., 120, 122). In connection with Seneca’s advocacy of clementia, see a similar emphasis in Calp. Sic., 1, 58ff. On the questionable character of Nero’s father, Gn. Domitius Ahenobarbus, see Suet. Nero, 5, 6; of Asconius Labeo nothing else is known (Talbert (1984: 369); Millar (1977:308)). On Domitius Corbulo, see below, chapter 5 (pp. 197ff.). Tacitus emphasizes the senatorial adulatio of Nero in connection with the success claimed against the Parthians, although no military hostilities, at that point, had in fact been conducted: they proposed national thanksgiving, and that the emperor should wear the triumphal robe during the festivities, receive an ovation, and be awarded a statue of the size of Mars Ultor in that god’s temple. On Antistius Vetus, see below, chapters 2 and 4 (pp. 68f., 141ff.). Although technically Agrippina was voted lictors as a priestess of the newly created cult of Divus Claudius, as it follows from Tacitus’ context, the act was also endowed with political significance; cf. Koestermann, 3, 236f. Among Seneca’s maneuvers

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directed against her was his timely intervention to forestall her appearance with Nero on equal footing at the audience given to an Armenian deputation (Tac. Ann., 13, 5). Acte, a native of Asia Minor, belonged to Claudius’ familia and was probably manumitted upon his death. According to Suetonius (Nero, 28), Nero was close to marrying her and even pressured unspecified ex-consuls to swear to her fictitious royal genealogy, traced to the Attalid dynasty of Pergamon (cf. Dio, 61, 7, 1). She took part in arranging Nero’s funeral, together with his two nurses (Suet. Nero, 50). My account of the Nero-Acte affair follows Tac. Ann., 13, 13f.; cf. Koestermann, 3, 257ff. Annaeus Serenus, later praefectus vigilum, was the addressee of Seneca’s De Constantia Sapientis, De Tranquilitate Animi, and De Otio; cf. Sen. Epist., 63, 14f.; Plin. NH, 22, 96; Mart., 7, 45, 2. On Claudius Senecio, see below, chapter 3 (pp. 97f.). Pallas was that very slave who carried the younger Antonia’s message to Capri alerting Tiberius to the subversive activities of Sejanius (cf. Millar (1977:74)). He was even decorated under Claudius with ornamenta praetoria—Plin., Epist., 7, 29, 2; 9, 6, 11, 13. Tacitus (Ann., 13, 2) implies Nero’s disgust (taedium) at Pallas; as his mother’s lover and detested by him, Pallas seems to have been playing in regard to Nero the unenviable role of “sexual dissident”—a person who entered into conflict with the emperor on the grounds of an amorous involvement of some sort. On Pallas’ career, see the detailed article by Oost (1958). Pallas’ successor was possibly another freedman, Claudius Etruscus (cf. Stat. Silv., 3, 3). It seems, however, that even after his dismissal Pallas possessed sufficient influence to extricate his brother Antonius Felix, the procurator of Judaea and “the husband of three queens,” from disgrace on account of Jewish complaints at his corrupt administration (Jos. Ant. Jud., 20, 182; cf. Millar (1977:77)). On the chronology of this last event, see Jewett (1979:42ff.). At the time of Claudius’ death Britannicus was still considered puer; he was thirteen, but he was to assume the toga virilis in February-March AD 55—cf. Wiedemann (1989a:124f.). Tacitus’ comment on Agrippina’s motive in the suppression of Claudius’ will—“lest the preference of the stepson to the son seem an invidious injustice and upset the mood of the common people” (Ann., 12, 69)—is not plausible and stems, very likely, from Agrippina’s own memoir. Agrippina had to enhance Nero’s dynastic status by procuring his formal adoption and marrying him to Claudius’ daughter Octavia, who was made to cancel her earlier betrothal to L.Iunius Silanus. On the other hand, Britannicus’ legitimacy could have been doubted on the grounds of the legitimacy of his birth, given Messallina’s scandalous notoriety as an adultress. Still, according to Tacitus, Agrippina had to resort to a complex maneuver, concealing the actual time of Claudius’ death and placing pickets around the palace (Ann., 12, 68; cf. Dio, 61, 3; Suet. Nero, 8). On the irregularity of Nero’s adoption, see Geer (1931: 57ff.); on the juridical aspects of his accession, cf. Wiedemann (1989a; loc. cit.); Lesuisse (1961). On Titus’ presence at Claudius’ court and his friendship with Britannicus, see Jones (1984:7ff.). Becoming emperor several decades later, Titus honored the memory of Britannicus with statues made of ivory and gold (Suet. Div. Titus, 2) and, possibly, struck a coin in his memory—Jones (1984:8); it is also true that he may have

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considered such gestures politically advantageous. Suetonius’ remark (Nero, 33) supplies an additional psychological reason for Nero’s desire for Britannicus’ humiliation during the Saturnalia—jealousy of his voice. The story of Britannicus’ murder, as recounted by Tacitus (cf. Koestermann, 3, 261ff.) involves the poisoner Locusta acting under the supervision of a tribune, T.Iulius Pollio, later the procurator of the province of Sardinia. Titus, the rumor said, was also present at the fateful dinner, tasted himself the poisoned potion, and was severely afflicted (Suet. Div. Titus, 2). On Seneca’s early career, see Griffin (1976:43ff.); cf. Talbert (1984:77). Even in his youth he showed signs of compromise by abandoning vegetarian practices founded on his philosophical beliefs owing to his and his father’s fears of being thought a devotee of foreign cults persecuted at that time by Tiberius (Epist., 108); on this “vegetarian surrender,” cf. ibid., 39f. Seneca was prompted to embark on the cursus honorum by his aunt (Ad Helv., 19, 3; cf. 2, 4)—his mother’s elder stepsister, her name unknown—who may have procured for him the office of quaestor, possibly through the gratia of her husband, C. Galerius, the prefect of Egypt in AD 16, 31 (cf. Plin. NH, 19, 3; later he perished in a shipwreck—Ad Helv., 19, 4ff.), a demonstration of the role of kinship in the working of patronage, cf. Syme (1958:60); Millar (1977: 304); Saller (1982:135). On his association with the seianiani, see Stewart (1953). Bauman (1974:136), speculates that Seneca may have won his case not only in Caligula’s presence but “against the product of his pen,” and that this could threaten him with prosecution on the charge of maiestas. Whether Seneca was in fact guilty of adultery remains uncertain. In the Ad Polybium (especially in 13, 2ff.) he seems to have obliquely recognized it. As for Claudius’ intervention at his trial, he would hardly distort the truth in such a semi-official communication. On Seneca under Claudius, cf. Levick (1990:20, 42ff, 67ff., 91, 124ff.). For Seneca’s recall from exile in AD 49 and his subsequent praetorship as Agrippina’s beneficium to him, see Saller (1982:41f., 57); cf. Millar (1977:306). He must have condoned at least one of Agrippina’s crimes contemporaneous with his recall—the enforced suicide of L.Iunius Silanus, Octavia’s fiancé before her betrothal to Nero (Tac. Ann., 12, 8); of whether Seneca was privy to Agrippina’s machinations in the alleged murder of Claudius, nothing can be said with any certainty. On Seneca as Agrippina’s reputed lover, see Dio, 61, 10, 1. On him as praeceptor Neronis, see Suet. Nero, 7, 1; 35, 5; Dio, 60, 32, 61, 3. Whether Seneca held a brief suffect consulship in 55–6 is still debated. Seneca’s prima facie predecessors in the role of the powerful amicus principis—Agrippa, Maecenas, L.Vitellius—never achieved the status he enjoyed: when not holding office they were, at best, counsellors or aides and, at worst, henchmen. On his nimia potentia, in addition to Tacitus see Plin. NH, 14, 51; on him in power, see Grimal (1978:149ff.); Rozelaar (1976:231ff.); esp. Griffin (1976:67ff. and 1984:71ff.). On political aspects of his Stoicism, cf. Grimal (1976). The quinquennium Neronis (as an expression attributed to Trajan) is referred to in Aur. Vict. De Caes., 5, 2ff; Epit de Caes., 5, 2ff. It is never called quinquennium aureum in ancient sources, but is often mentioned as Nero’s “five golden years” in later

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literature. Modern views on the quinquennium are widely divergent, even in regard to what particular five years of Nero’s reign were meant as “best”; Hind (1971) argues the middle period, AD 60–5, emphasizing conquests and building programs, which I find unpersuasive if only on the ground of the Great Fire alone; Thornton (1973) wants to see Nero’s last five years, AD 64–8, as “best” which is to me even less acceptable; Lepper (1957) and Murray (1965) agree with the tradition that the first five years (AD 54–9) were meant, but the former doubts the authenticity of Trajan’s remark while the latter convincingly considers it a retrospective Stoic myth designed to justify the political activities of Seneca and Thrasea Paetus; cf. Griffin (1976:68ff.). On Seneca’s circle of intimate friends, see Griffin (1976:96). To them belonged Annaeus Serenus (see above, pp. 259f.); the municipal officer and the addressee of the Epistulae Morales, Lucilius Junior; Seneca’s apologist and historian, Fabius Rusticus (see above, Introduction, p. xxxiv); note also the Greek philosopher Demetrius (below, p. 282). Note, however, Seneca’s two senatorial friends, Novius Priscus and Caesennius Maximus (below, chapter 3, p. 124f.). The literature on the Apocolocyntosis is vast: for 1922–58, see the bibliography in Coffey (1961); especially, see Weinreich (1923); Currie (1962); and commentaries by Russo (1964); and Eden (1984). I treat the political and psychological dimensions of this satire in my companion volume to this study, now in preparation. Dio (61, 10, 2) reports Seneca’s intent to destroy all copies of the Ad Polybium—cf. Rudich (1987). Note Quint., 10, 1, 126, on Seneca’s desire to please everyone. I discuss at length Seneca’s political mentality as reflected in the De Clementia and his other writings in my above-mentioned companion volume to this study. For valuable treatment of the De Clementia, see bibliography in Fears (1975: 488 n. 9). For dating it, see Grimal (1978:119ff.); Rozelaar (1976:267ff.); esp. Griffin (1976: 129ff.); Adam (1970:1–98); Kopp (1969:5–63); Büchner (1970); Mortureux (1973). On the dating of the De Clementia after Britannicus’ murder, cf. Adam (1970:9ff.); Griffin (1976:133ff., 407ff.). Grimal (1976:171) suggests that the De Clementia is an elaborate version of the speech Seneca delivered at the ceremony of votorum nuncupatio on January 1, AD 56. The usage of the word rex in the De Clementia does not follow the Stoic pattern, according to which it should be qualified by the adjective iustus; rather, it is employed almost indiscriminately and interchangeably with princeps. The champions of the mos maiorum, a Cassius Longinus or a Thrasea Paetus, would be annoyed at repeated phrases such as reges principesque; it seems to me not accidental that we possess very little tangible evidence of the philosopher’s connection with their ilk. This, combined with total silence on the dignitas senatus, rules out a probability that the primary goal of the treatise was a gesture of reconciliation toward the Senate. In De Ben., 2, 20, 2, Seneca, with reference to institutio Stoica, commends monarchy as the best form of government. On the Stoic opposition of basileus and tyrannos, see for example, Reesor (1951); Brunt (1975:7ff.). Cf. Fears (1975) on Nero’s soliloquy in De Clementia portraying him as a vice-regent of the gods and evoking the language and imagery of an Oriental monarch. Seneca’s attitude toward Augustus was, at best, controversial and at times even negative—Jal (1957). He treated the pre-Augustan

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Republic with similar skepticism, as, for instance, in De Const. Sap., 2, 1. As regards his educational argument in the De Clementia directed at Nero, Griffin (1976:137) aptly summarizes Seneca’s technique: “Seneca’s skill in psychology is apparent,… praise and admonishment are intrinsically combined.” This procedure, however, was not without danger: every intrinsic combination can be disentangled by an opinionated reader, whether he be the emperor or a dissident. I cannot rule out the possibility that Seneca never published the De Clementia, but left it unfinished; possibly, he circulated the first book of it within a narrow group at the court. Disappointment with Nero may already have grown to such an extent that his conscience rebelled and defeated his wishful thinking. This would correspond with Dio’s contention that after Britannicus’ murder Seneca’s and Burrus’ influence started to fade away. In this case the De Clementia may have been rescued by Seneca’s circle after Nero’s fall and published in its present form to demonstrate the author’s excellent intentions, thus contributing to the emergence of the quinquennium myth. On the little practical effect of the De Clementia on Nero’s policies, cf. Griffin (1976: 170). On Seneca’s inconsistency regarding public occupatio, see, instructively, ibid., 315ff. Grimal (1976:175) attributes Nero’s proposal to abolish the vectigalia to Seneca’s influence; cf. on that measure Crook (1955: 46); Millar (1977:372f.). On Burrus, see Henderson (1903:75ff.); Warmington (1969:27ff.); Syme (1958: 590ff.); Griffin (1984: esp. 67ff.). On his portrayal in Tacitus, see Syme (1958:314, 610, 623); Gillis (1963); and Baldwin (1974). On the history of the controversy on the Seneca-Burrus government, see Gillis (1963: note 2). On their reward of their supporters, see Wiedemann (1989b:55). Seneca’s brother-in-law Pompeius Paullinus and Burrus’ compatriot L.Duvius Avitus were made legates of Lower Germany. For Burrus’ career, see, in particular, McDermott (1949). Most likely, Burrus originated from Vasio Vocontiorum in Gaul, which received Roman citizenship under Augustus; an inscription (CIL XII, 5842) has been discovered there recording his cursus which included ornamenta consularia. Military and procuratorial career often preceded the appointment as praetorian prefect-Millar (1977:126). Note, however, Campbell (1984:114) on the absence in Rome of the concept of “military professional.” The praetorian prefect was in no formal sense the emperor’s deputy, but the emperor may have found it convenient to delegate whatever he wanted to him informally (ibid., 116). Cf. Millar (1977:126): The very prominence of the praetorian prefect, his military role at the side of the Emperor and the particular imperial favor which his position implied led some to dangerous ambitions, and exposed them all to suspicions on the part both of the Emperor himself and of others.

For Burrus’ patronage, cf. Syme (1958:591); Saller (1982:62). Nero’s largess in the aftermath of Britannicus’ murder was by no means a political gesture aimed at soliciting the support of the senatorial majority—from those quarters he had nothing

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to fear. Rather, young and anxious as he was at the time, he wished to win moral approval from his amici. On the grounds of Roman private law, female members of the dynasty could have a claim on the Imperial estates. Even though women could not become emperor, “this implied that the succession was open to yet another category of claimants, the husbands of Imperial princesses,” who could act under the pretext of protecting the interests of their wives and children—Wiedemann (1989b: 7). Evidence concerning the elder Julia’s banishment is so confused that it makes that event virtually unfathomable. On Sejanus’ “coup,” cf., e.g. Syme (1986:169ff.); even if he did not contemplate Tiberius’ actual overthrow, his design to marry the younger Drusus’ widow betrays a bid for power. Ehrhardt (1978) argues that Messallina’s repressive policies were intended to safeguard her children, but even he recognizes that her final entanglement with Silius is thus inexplicable. Tacitus’ psychological interpretations of Agrippina’s conduct are occasionally inconsistent, but so is life. As for several conflicting details in his narrative, they were natural results of the conflation of several sources. From juridical practice it is known that even eyewitnesses disagree in particulars on what they see. In Tacitus’ account of Agrippina’s trial, the charges against her were communicated first by Iunia Silana’s clients, Iturius and Calvisius, to Domitia’s freedman Atimetus, and by him to her other freedman, the famous actor L. Domitius Paris (on him, cf. CIL, 14, 2866, and Dig., 12, 4, 3, 1ff.), and only by this latter to Nero (cf. Dio, 63, 18, 1; Suet. Nero, 54); on these individuals, see also Koestermann, 3, 271 f. C.Caecina Tuscus was a son of Nero’s nurse, at this point iuridicus Alexandriae et Aegypti (Koestermann, 3, 272) and later prefect of Egypt. A “dissident by misadventure,” he was disgraced and banished after Nero learned that he had made use of baths built for Nero’s personal convenience in anticipation of his eventual visit to Alexandria (Suet. Nero, 35; cf. Dio, 63, 18). The rumor of Nero’s intent to replace Burrus with him is attributed by Tacitus (Ann., 14, 20) to the pro-Senecan historian Fabius Rusticus (on him, see above, Introduction, p. xxxiv); according to Tacitus, two of his other sources, Pliny the Elder and the collaborationist Cluvius Rufus (cf. ibid.), made no reference to any suspicion of Burrus’ loyalty; cf. Koestermann, 3, 273, and his references to the Tacitus Quellenforschung scholarship. The charges against Agrippina were heard, presumably, in cubiculo. Note the detailed discussion of her defense speech in Koestermann, 3, 275ff. Of her accusers, only the actor Paris, “being too important a figure in the Emperor’s debaucheries” (Tac. Ann., 13, 22), did not suffer and, furthermore, was the following year proclaimed of ingenuous birth by special Imperial edict (ibid., 27); on his subsequent fate and eventual murder by Nero, see below (p. 307). Iturius and Calvisius were, however, amnestied, together with a number of her other enemies, after Agrippina’s murder (Tac. Ann., 14, 12). Of Agrippina’s friends and supporters, Tib. Claudius Balbillus was made prefect of Egypt (cf. CIG 4699; Plin. NH, 19, 3; Sen. Nat. Quaest., 4, 12, 13) and one L.Arruntius Stella received the cura ludorum. Faenius Rufus was appointed praefectus annonae, and Anteius Rufus was made governor of Syria but was detained in Rome under various pretexts and never allowed to go to

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his province; on both of them, see below, chapters 3 (pp. 114ff.) and 4 (pp. 144ff.) respectively. On the subsequent fate of Rubellius Plautus, see below, chapter 2 (pp. 45f., 68ff.). Iunia Silana, arguably, was a daughter of M.Iunius Silanus, cons. AD 15. Verdière (1956:551ff.) made an attempt to see in her a prototype for the character of Tryphaena in Petronius’ Satyricon. On the Silani, see McAlindon (1956); also Syme (1986:197). Sextius Africanus was cons. suff. AD 59 with M.Ostorius Scapula (cf. Tac. Ann., 14, 46). He may have been a closet dissident: Syme (1980:5) suggests on the basis of the Arval records that he was disgraced later in Nero’s reign. The character of Nero’s aunt Domitia manifests itself in her bitter financial suit (despite her own fabulous wealth) against her brother Domitius Ahenobarbus, Nero’s own father (Quint., 6, 1, 50; cf. 6, 3, 74). According to Dio (62, 17), Nero poisoned her, not even waiting “a few days for her to die a natural death of old age,” for the sake of her estates at Baiae and near Ravenna where he later erected magnificent gymnasia. In Suetonius’ colorful version (Nero, 34), he seized her property before she was cold and suppressed her will so that nothing should escape him. On Passienus Crispus, adopted son of Augustus’ close advisor, twice a consul, see Dio, 60, 23, 1; Suet. Nero, 6; Sen. Epist., 6, 9; Plin. NH, 16, 242; Mart., 10, 2, 10. There exists a brief biography of him by Suetonius from which we learn that, although not averse to a republicanist gesture, “he tried to gain favor with all the Emperors,” in particular playing sycophant to Caligula to the point of giving an equivocal answer to the latter’s inquiry whether he had committed incest with his own sister. It is also said that Agrippina was responsible for his death (around AD 44–8), although he left her an heir to his estate (cf. Schol. ad Juv., 4, 81). On him, see also Syme (1986:160). Domitia Lepida, Nero’s other aunt—impudica, infamis, violenta (Tac. Ann., 12, 64)—married, by Claudius’ order, cons. AD 28 C.Appius Iunius Silanus, later destroyed by her own daughter Messallina (Tac. Ann., 11, 37). Agrippina may have suspected her of favoring her own grandson Britannicus over Nero. She was tried under Claudius in cubiculo, against Narcissus’ opposition (Tac. Ann., 11, 65; cf. Suet. Nero, 7; Levick (1990:76)) Faustus Sulla was Domitia Lepida’s son (and thus Messalina’s stepbrother) from her marriage to Faustus Sulla, cons. AD 31; cf. Syme (1986:164). For more on him and his subsequent fate, see below, chapters 1 (pp. 30ff.) and 2 (pp. 67f.). For some ingenious speculation on the Sulla-Pallas-Burrus episode, see Oost (1958:135ff.), including his hypothesis that “the plot which Pallas and Burrus were alleged to have concocted was somehow connected with the aerarium, and therefore with Pallas’ activities a rationibus” (ibid., 136), and that the treason charge was invented to circumvent Nero’s prohibition of malfeasance suits against Pallas; cf. Koestermann, 3, 279f. On Burrus as assessor principis in this (his own) case, cf. Furneaux, 2, 182; Crook (1955:47); Bleicken (1962 96). If Dio (61, 10, 6) has not confused the two events (the plots of Paetus and of Iunia Silana), Seneca, although “some complaints were lodged against him,” again intervened successfully with Nero on Burrus’ and Pallas’

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behalf; but the text in Xiphilinus’ excerpt is too garbled to make anything out of it with any certainty—cf. Oost (1958:136). On the location of the praetorian guards and their role in preserving law and order in the capital, see Veyne (1976:702ff.); Yavetz (1969:11ff.); Durry (1938: 45ff.); Campbell (1984:113). It is alleged that disturbances in the circus were encouraged by Nero himself for the sake of amusement (Tac. Ann., 13, 25; cf. Suet. Nero, 26). The beginning of Ann., 13, 28—manebat nihilo minus quaedam imago rei publicae (cf. Koestermann, 3, 287f.)—is one of Tacitus’ several usages of the expression res publica unmistakably meaning the form of government (other obvious examples are Ann., 1, 3 and Hist., 1, 50). Here such a usage clearly implies a “subversive” emphasis— maliziözer Prägnanz (on this, see Suerbaum (1970:80ff.)). Although any adjectives (e.g., vetus or libera) are omitted here, the context makes it clear that the “old” res publica is meant. For the author, then, the res publica seems to exist and not to exist at the same time. The ambiguity in fact becomes threefold if we realize that res publica is here syntactically ruled by quaedam imago, which increases the tonal subtleties far beyond the scope of a mere adjective. On the polysemanticism of the term res publica and the degree of its synonymity with libertas, see, e.g., Wirszubski (1950:5ff.); Momigliano’s (JRS, 41, 1951) review of Wirszubski (1950). For the VibulliusAntistius affair see Talbert (1984:385). Another instructive example of petty rivalry in the curia over the election of praetors in AD 60 which also required Nero’s intervention, this time rather benevolent, is reported in Tac. Ann., 14, 28; cf. Millar (1977:302). Control over the aerarium was for a long time the subject of a contest between Imperial and senatorial jurisdiction (Dio, 60, 10; Tac. Ann., 1, 58, 78; 13, 29); cf. Millar (1964: 33ff.); Brunt (1966; 75ff.); Talbert (1984:375ff.); also Koestermann, 3, 289ff. Six years later, in AD 62, Nero appointed a commission of three consulares to supervise the donations to aerarium from fiscus (Tac. Ann., 15, 18). On the fines imposed by the emperors on absentee senators, see Talbert (1984: 137ff., 227). Dio (55, 3, 1ff.; cf. 54, 18, 3) cites in this connection Augustus’ lex Iulia de senatu habendo. Although even previously the presiding magistrate could de iure fine an absentee senator, the evidence of such a practice in the late Republic is exceedingly scarce; by the time of the principate’s establishment “these fines were evidently not being enforced”—Talbert (1984:138). Helvidius Priscus was Thrasea Paetus’ son-in-law and later became the leading dissident under Vespasian. On this episode, cf. Melmoux (1975:25 and footnote); see also below, chapter 4 (pp. 175f.), on his trial in AD 66. It may be worth noting that in the same year, AD 56, another future Flavian dissident and Helvidius Priscus’ biographer, Herennius Senecio, was quaestor (cf. Dio, 57, 13). Subsequently, however, both men’s careers suffered an eclipse, to be resumed after Nero’s downfall. Tacitus speaks of Helvidius Priscus’ motives, attacking the praetor as contentiones proprias, which betrays his ambivalent feelings about the man: he admired his courage, but thought his intransigence ostentatious—Melmoux (1975); cf. Syme (1958:554).

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On Curiatius Maternus, cf. Frank (1937). Cameron (1967) argues that he was executed under Vespasian shortly after the dramatic date of the Dialogus; contra, see Barnes (1981), who identifies him with the Rhetor Maternus mentioned by Dio (67, 12, 5) as killed by Domitian in AD 91 for his anti-tyrannical rhetoric. He also wrote yet another praetexta, Domitius, honoring Nero’s republicanist ancestor, perhaps fraught with potentially subversive import through an implicit comparison of the virtuous hero with his degenerate descendant. Furthermore, Curiatius Maternus leaves no doubt of his animus nocendi (cf. above, Introduction, pp. xxxif.), speaking of his next literary project, based on Greek myth: “If Cato has left anything unsaid, it shall be supplied in my Thyestes” (Dial., 3). Cf. my article on accommodation to reality in the Dialogus—Rudich (1985). Pomponia Graecina may have been a daughter of Pomponius Graecinus, cons. suff. AD 16 (Furneaux, 2, 195f.; cf. his remark that a charge of Christianity could also imply a charge of marital infidelity). Apprised by the Senate, she lived until eightythree years of age—cf. Syme (1958:532 n. 5). Owing to procedures of family law, the authorities did not inquire into the nature of Pomponia Graecina’s superstitio, allowing the pater familias, that is, her husband A.Plautius Britannicus, to deal with it; on the tradition of the family trial and of patria potestas, cf. Furneaux, 2, 194f.; Syme (1958:532, and 1986:186). On the other hand, the obscure character of Tacitus’ report lends a modicum of support to the conjecture (see, e.g., Furneaux, 2, 195) that she might in fact have been a convert to Christianity. This would also explain why Tacitus, with his special interest in this particular family (cf. Syme (1958:301)), was reluctant (or unable) to elucidate the matter—if she was accused of adherence to another (or better known) Oriental religion, such as Isiasm or Judaism, one would expect Tacitus to mention it by name. On the other hand, there is a documented interest in, and devotion to, these and similar practices on the part of Neronian aristocrats which must have gone largely unpunished (cf. Poppaea Sabina’s involvement with Judaism and Nero’s own with Mythraism). Inscriptions to a Pomponius Bassus and a Pomponius Graecinus are found in the catacombs (G.B.De Rossi, La Roma Sotteranea Cristiana, t. 2, Rome 1867, 362ff.). Note also Beaujeu’s (1960:79) observation that Pomponia Graecina’s subsequent behavior much resembles that adopted by Christian women of the fourth century AD—so that to identify her as a Christian is still tempting; contra, see Friedländer (1922:1, 305); but cf. Hanslik in RE. For a possibility that the attack on Pomponia Graecina was indirectly at her husband (the last Roman general who was granted ovatio in AD 47 for the conquest of Britain (Campbell 1984:362)) cf. Nicols (1978:21). It may be worth mentioning that his nephew Plautius Lateranus, the future Pisonian conspirator, was impeached after Messallina’s downfall for alleged adultery with her (Tac. Ann., 11, 36). P.Celer’s gentilicum remains unknown. On him and Nero in terms of patronage cf. Saller (1982:57). Koestermann’s (3, 298) speculations that M.Silanus could have been involved in Celer’s financial misconduct seem to me unfounded. Otherwise, he would have offered Agrippina an excellent pretext to prosecute him, and his murder would

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not have been required. On Eprius Marcellus and Cossutianus Capito, see below, chapters 4 and 5 (pp. 166ff. and 180ff.). Similar to Eprius Marcellus’ case was the outcome of the trial de repetundis initiated by the Mauretanians against the equestrian Vibius Secundus (Tac. Ann., 14, 28)—the sentence was mitigated due to the influence of his brother, the powerful delator Vibius Crispus. The charge de repetundis often served as weapon in the hands of both the authorities and the opposition against those they found undesirable, and disguised the political character of the offense. A characteristic case of senatorial revenge against a notorious delator on the pretext of a de repetundis charge was the successful prosecution by the Bithynians of one M.Tarquitius Priscus, who earlier, under Claudius, denounced his own proconsul, Statilius Taurus—ibid., 14, 46. Cf. Tac. Hist., 1, 77, on the restoration to the curia in AD 69 of several senators disgraced under Claudius and Nero on account of bribery: “Those who pardoned them decided to alter the name [of the original charge] so that what had really been greed should seem treason, which was now so odious that it made even good laws null and useless.” On Nero’s attitude to repetunda see Talbert (1984: 473). For a list of the de repetundis prosecutions under him, see ibid., 508f. On Suillius Rufus, see Syme (1958:329, 331f., 346, 351); Griffin (1976:74ff., 288ff.); Seita (1982); Levick (1990:56f., 60ff., 96, 119). On his banishment under Tiberius, see Levick (1976:164, 197ff.); Bleicken (1962:63ff., 160). For Tiberius’ oath regarding Suillius Rufus, cf. Talbert (1984:261); cf. Talbert’s observation (ibid., 475) that in each case Tiberius intervened with de repetundis, it was associated with maiestas and concerned him personally. On Suillius’ attempt to restore lex Cincia, see Syme (1958:257); Momigliano (1961:71). For a list of the individuals whose destruction Suillius Rufus was accused of, see Koestermann, 3, 320. On Vistilia’s children, see Cichorius (1961:429ff.); and, in particular, Syme (1970:32ff.). Suillius Rufus’ half-brother Q.Pomponius Secundus, cons. suff. of AD 41, was executed for involvement in the revolt of Camillus Scribonianus the following year—cf. Syme (1970:32); on another stepbrother, P.Pomponius Secundus, the grammarian and author of tragedies, see below (p. 304). A modern parallel to Suillius Rufus’ reactionary dissidence would be the dissidence of the hard-core Stalinists or Brezhnevites under the more humane regimes of Khrushchev or Gorbachev. The political and juridical context of the entire episode is discussed in detail by Seita (1982). Note, in particular, his arguments on Tacitus’ parodistic intent in portraying Suillius (ibid., 324ff.) and on the awkward position of Seneca, who was held in contempt as a homo novus by the hereditary senators (ibid., 312) and needed to reassert himself in the changing circumstances (ibid., 315). He also rightly observes that Suillius Rufus’ prosecution on the extortion charge would fit well with the government policy of that moment aimed at the betterment of provincial administration, manifest in the wave of de repetundis trials in AD 57–8. On how Tacitus’ account of the affair reflects his own ambivalent feelings about Seneca, see the unpublished paper of Norma Quesada. Dio (61, 10, 1ff.) refers to the entire affair without mentioning Suillius Rufus’ name which creates an erroneous impression that Seneca might have been under a threat of formal charges invoked against him by

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an unspecified party. On Seneca praedives, his reputed fortune and his pronouncements on the subject, see Griffin (1976:296ff.). Dio (62, 2, 1ff.) alleges that Seneca’s usury caused the Boudicca uprising in Britain; cf. Seita (1982:320f.), on Suillius Rufus’ implied image of Seneca as a “hunter” of legacies and a “catcher” of souls. As regards the charges of sexual misconduct (i.e., of his reputed affairs with Livilla, Agrippina, and Nero himself), Seneca seems to have been responding pridefully at the end of the extant text of the De Vita Beata (27, 5): “Fling Alcibiades and Phaedrus in my own teeth—though it will prove your happiest time when you are so fortunate as to copy my vices!” On De Vita Beata, see especially Griffin (1976: 306ff.); Grimal (1978:177ff.). I also treat it in great detail in my companion volume to this study, now in preparation. It seems likely that Seneca was inspired to write this work by Suillius’ insinuations in AD 58, but this does not necessarily mean that it was composed at that time. He may have done so later in response to a slander campaign against him started by Tigellinus and his associates after Burrus’ death (cf. Tac. Ann., 14, 52). For various opinions on dating this treatise, see Giancotti (1957:326ff.); and Abel (1967:160ff.). For the possibility that Suillius Rufus influenced Dio’s antiSenecan source and the related problems of Dio’s chronology, see Seita (1982:326f.); Flach (1973:274). On Tacitus’ portrayal of Poppaea Sabina, cf., especially, Koestermann, 3, 324f. Her father, T.Ollius, was destroyed by Tiberius as a friend of Sejanus (Tac. Ann., 13, 45); her mother, Poppaea Sabina Sr, a famous beauty of the day, fell victim to a complex intrigue engineered by Messallina (Ann., 11, 1ff.): suspected of being the mistress of Messallina’s lover, the actor Mnestor, Caligula’s former minion (Suet. Cal., 36, 55f.; on his execution in the aftermath of Messallina’s fall, see Tac. Ann.) 11, 36; Dio, 60, 31, 5), she was accused in AD 47, through the agency of Suillius Rufus, of adultery with Valerius Asiaticus, a great personage of his day (cf. on him below, p. 285), who was shortly executed on charges of conspiracy against Claudius. True to her character and to the morals of her milieu, Poppaea Sabina married the praetorian prefect Rufrius Crispinus despite his complicity in the destruction of her mother (on him, see below, chapter 4, p. 148), which reflects her lack of odium paternum in principes as formulated and discussed by McAlindon (1956). Otho had a few tenuous, though peculiar, links to the Imperial family: his grandfather M.Salvius Otho was reared in Livia’s household (Suet. Otho, 1); his father, L.Salvius Otho, was favored by Tiberius and so resembled him physically that he was believed by many to have been his bastard (ibid.); he further enhanced his position at the court by having detected a plot against Claudius (Suet. Otho, 1) and was by the latter elevated to patriciate (ibid., 13); Otho’s sister (name unknown) was betrothed even before marriageable age (ibid.) to the ill-fated son of Germanicus, Drusus Iulius Caesar—it was she who, according to Plutarch (Gal., 19), was later destroyed by Nero. Plutarch’s mention, in the same context, of Otho’s wife is bewildering—no such (other than Poppaea Sabina) is ever referred to in the rest of our sources (nor in PIR). It is not clear whether Otho married this other unnamed woman prior or subsequent to his ménage with Poppaea Sabina and Nero, and some confusion

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on Plutarch’s part also cannot be ruled out. There were rumors of Otho’s homosexual liaison with Nero (Suet. Otho, 2); cf. ibid., on him displaying his amicitia and influence with the emperor in the senate. On Otho’s participation in the Bellum Neronis and his subsequent elevation to the emperorship, see below, chapter 6 (pp. 229f.). On the Otho-Nero-Poppaea triangle, see Fabia (1895:16ff.); Henderson (1903: esp. 116ff.); Syme (1958: 290f., 378); Griffin (1984:45ff., 247n.). On the discrepancies between Tacitus’ two versions, see Koestermann, 3, 326ff.; Questa (1967:20ff.); Syme (1958:181). The Historiae version seems to be more consistent with the mocking popular distich preserved by Suetonius (Otho, 3): Cur Otho mentito sit, quaeritis, exul honore?/Uxoris moechus coeperat esse suae. According to Plutarch (Gal., 20), in sending Otho to Lusitania Nero acted on Seneca’s advice; according to Suetonius (loc. cit.), in order to avoid making the whole farce public by a more severe punishment. On Tacitus’ skill at innuendo, see Ryberg (1942: 384ff.). Other accounts differ in details. In Suetonius’ account (Otho, 3—closer to the version in the Historiae), it is said that Otho accepted Nero’s mistress, by this time already separated from her husband, in a pretended marriage, but subsequently seduced her, Nero’s rivalry notwithstanding; moreover, he allegedly refused to deliver her back to Nero, and on one occasion even shut the emperor out. Plutarch (Gal., 19) preserves this last anecdote, but differs from Suetonius (being in this closer to the version in the Annales) by insisting that it was Otho who seduced her first and persuaded her to leave her first husband. Finally, Dio suggests that a three-way relationship in fact existed, presumably for a long time (61, 11). One must agree, however, with Chilver’s conclusion following his list of the discrepancies in our extant texts (commentary, 70): “There must remain uncertainties about all these things, though perhaps they are uncertainties more about the transmission of the stories than about what actually happened” (ibid., 71). Much, including the exact dating of Nero’s rupture with Otho, depends on the credibility of Suetonius’ allegation of the latter’s complicity in the plot to destroy Agrippina with a collapsible ship (see below, chapter 2, p. 35; cf. below, p. 271). The emotional impulses of the dramatis personae seem as highly conflicting as the outer circumstances imposed upon them. Poppaea Sabina’s or Otho’s ambition and Nero’s libido were threatened by Agrippina’s existence, which made it necessary to conceal the bizarre conglomeration of Imperial sexual fantasies and ménages. On Faustus Cornelius Sulla, see Henderson (1903:143); Warmington (1969: 46– 50); Griffin (1984:98ff., 243 n. 57); cf. Syme (1958:573 and 1986:164, 183, 281); on the present episode, cf. Koestermann, 3, 329f. Rogers’ (1955:201ff.) claim that Sulla was actually guilty of conspiracy is unsubstantiated, contradicts all evidence, and makes Nero’s leniency toward him (that is, his exile instead of execution) inexplicable. Iulius Montanus was praefectus fabrum and quaestor designatus at the time of his death (Dio, 61, 9, 3f.; cf. CIL, 9, 3884). His confrontation with Nero must have been on public record, although we are free to reject Tacitus’ particular innuendo on the cause of his suicide; Suetonius reports on Nero, incognito, having received a harsh beating

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from an anonymous senator whose wife he and his gang maltreated (Nero, 26); Dio identifies (maybe erroneously) Suetonius’ anonymous attacker with Tacitus’ Iulius Montanus (61, 9, 3f.). As a result of their encounter, according to Tacitus (Ann., 13, 25), Nero decided to pursue his adventures at night accompanied by soldiers and gladiators ordered to intervene only if a street clash threatened him with real trouble. On the Iulius Montanus incident, cf. Bradley, commentary, 155; Ogilvie-Richmond, 143ff. On Thrasea Paetus, see Fine (1932:238ff.); Bellardi (1974); Sizoo (1926–7); Toynbee (1944); Wirszubski (1950:138ff.); Henderson (1903:110ff., 124ff., 297ff.); Warmington (1969:133, 144ff.); Griffin (1976: esp. 100ff.); Syme (1958: passim, esp. 556ff.); MacMullen (1966:21ff.); Brunt (1975:7ff.); De Vivo (1980); Griffin (1984: esp. 165ff.); Syme (1986:280ff., 558ff.). On Thrasea Paetus’ conservative background, cf. Syme (1958:558): “The zone of Italy beyond the Po kept and guarded the ancient standards;” on his assumption of his father-in-law’s cognomen, see Koestermann, 4, 394. Cf., especially, MacMullen (1966:7ff.) on the role of precedent in Roman family tradition determining the pattern of individual behavior. On the revolt in AD 43 of Camillus Scribonianus, cons. AD 32 and later the governor of Dalmatia, against Claudius (in which Caecina Paetus was involved), cf. Levick (1990:59ff.). On Thrasea Paetus in connection with the quinquennium, cf. Murray (1965:56f.). Note his honorific priesthoods (Tac. Ann., 16, 22; cf. 27, 28). There was, however, always a limit to how far the multi bonique could tolerate their own compromise and so be tolerated by the authorities. Thrasea Paetus’ approval, in principle, of cursus honorum is implied in his final advice to his young follower Arulenus Rusticus (Tac. Ann., 16, 26)—see below, chapter 4 (p. 172). Rogers’ (1952: 290) belief that Thrasea Paetus took part in the Pisonian conspiracy is wholly unfounded. Sizoo (1927:43) argues unconvincingly that Seneca fostered Thrasea Paetus’ career; cf. Cizek (1972:94ff.); De Vivo (1980:83). On Seneca’s praise of his living contemporaries, see Burrus (De Clem., 2, 1, 2); Demetrius (De V. B., 18, 3; De Prov., 3, 3; 5, 5; De Ben., 7, 8–10; Nat. Quaest., 4, praef. 7–8; Epist., 20, 9; 62, 14; 91, 19); and Attalus (Nat. Quaest., 2, 48, 2; 2, 50, 1; Epist., 1, 9; 7, 5; 8, 3; 10, 1; 17, 8; 19, 1). On the allegation of Thrasea Paetus’ “narrow Italian nationalism,” see, e.g., Wirszubski (1950:180). Cf. also Fine (1932), with references to Schiller and Henderson. For the Syracuse gladiators episode, see Koestermann, 3, 331ff.; De Vivo (1980:82f.). Note in the text the pointed use of the word dissimulatio: see De Vivo’s (1980:82 n. 14) helpful observations on Tacitus’ employment of it in this and other contexts; cf. Koestermann, 3, 333, who offers as a parallel Plin. Epist., 9, 13. Regarding the argument Tacitus attributes to Thrasea Paetus, see Koestermann’s (ibid.) conjecture that Tacitus borrowed this quotation from Thrasea Paetus’ biography by Arulenus Rusticus. On the Stoic martyrology preserving authentic sayings as an historical source, see Marx (1937:83ff.); Questa (1967:236ff.); De Vivo (1980:98). Talbert (1984: 263) notes that Thrasea Paetus’ enthusiasm for details is unusual; cf. ibid., 427 on obtrectatures Thraseae. For “utilitarian compromise” as a means of a dissident’s accommodation, see Rudich (1985).

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2 THE YEARS OF FRUSTRATION Tacitus (Ann., 14, 2) mentions attempts to poison Agrippina, but claims that she was thoroughly guarded against this by her domestics and, in addition, had fortified her system in advance with antidotes (cf. Dio, 62, 12; Suet. Nero, 34); Suetonius (ibid.) adds a story about a failed contrivance to make the ceiling of her bedroom fall upon her while she slept, but this seems merely a fanciful duplication of the collapsible ship episode. On Agrippina’s murder, see Henderson (1903:56–71, 117–26, 468); Warmington (1969:31–48); Griffin (1984:84); Syme (1958:261–2, 482–3); D’Anna (1963:111–17); Krappe (1940: 466–72); Scott (1974:105–15); Dawson (1969). There is no reason to question the basic historicity of Tacitus’ narrative (as does, e.g., Dawson (1969)). Even though his story does contain minor contradictions in details, this must be attributed to the differences in his sources and even in the eyewitness accounts from which they originated. As regards the allegation of incest, cf. Koestermann, 4, 24f., on its putative sources. Dio (62, 12) mentions Nero’s mistress resembling Agrippina whom he displayed in public, saying that “he was wont to have intercourse with his mother.” One version in Tacitus (Ann., 14, 3) suggests that the alarmed Seneca, in order to deal with Agrippina’s incestuous overtures to her son, resorted to the reliable Acte, who allegedly intimidated Nero with the fact that the increasing circulation of incest rumors would endanger his position and make the troops cast off their allegiance to a sacrilegious emperor. Agrippina was murdered in the middle of March AD 49 (Suet. Nero, 40; cf. Bradley, commentary, 249f.). Our sources (Tac. Ann., 14, 4ff.; cf. Suet. Nero, 34; Dio, 61, 12ff.) are in basic agreement on the events of that night, with the exception of a few inessential details (cf. Koestermann, 4, 27ff.). About Agrippina’s companions on the fateful ship who drowned instead of her, one Creperius Gallus and the woman actually mistaken for her, Acerronia [Polla] (sic in Dio, 61, 13, 3), nothing further is known. Furneaux, 2, 237, relegates Otho’s complicity with Nero to an earlier assassination attempt. Poppaea Sabina’s efforts to antagonize Nero against his mother are emphasized by Tacitus (Ann., 14, 1). Modern theories (e.g., Dawson’s (1969) that Agrippina entered a conspiracy with Otho) to the effect that she was implicated in all sorts of political mischief on the eve of her murder are unsubstantiated and psychologically implausible. Dio’s contention (61, 12, 1) that it was in fact Seneca who incited Nero to matricide and even invented the entire plot is fanciful and results from his tendentiously anti-Senecan source (cf. Koestermann, 4, 38). Burrus and Seneca must have been ignorant of the collapsible ship—cf. Wiedemann (1989b:57). McDermott (1949: 252ff.), on the other hand, credits the two “ministers” with courage for their refusal on the night of the crime “to sanction officially” Agrippina’s assassination by involving the praetorians—but the reasons for that refusal were practical, not ethical. Dio (61, 14, 3) in fact reports that Nero attempted post factum to win over praetorian good will by a donative. In addition to the praetorian guard, Agrippina, for the same reason of her father’s popularity, might well have enjoyed support among the German

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legions—cf. Wiedemann (1989b:55). Baldwin (1967:430ff.) argues, with no foundation, that Burrus was actually involved in the alleged conspiratorial activities of both Rubellius Plautus and Cornelius Sulla. This is implausible: if Nero had already had any suspicion concerning him at that stage, he would not have commissioned him to investigate the charges against Agrippina and Rubellius Plautus or allowed him to sit among the judges when he himself was accused of conspiracy with Sulla and Pallas. For modern opinions on Seneca’s letter to the Senate, see Koestermann, 4, 45f.; cf. Millar (1977:352). Suetonius explicitly reports that the official version proclaimed that after the exposure of her alleged regicidal plot Agrippina committed suicide (Nero, 34); Quintilian (8, 5, 18) quotes from this letter one sententia (Nero is the presumed speaker): salvum me esse adhunc nec credo nec gaudio. Anicetus was appointed by Nero the prefect of the Misenian fleet (Tac. Ann., 14, 13), although he was not an equestrian, a usual qualification for the office (cf. Koestermann, 4, 28). Another low character who participated in the foul deed was one Volusius Proculus, later a navarch (on him and his traitorous role in the Pisonian conspiracy, see below, chapter 3, p. 101). Rogers (1955) and Bradley, commentary, 214f., date, in my view mistakenly, the episode with the young Plautius to Agrippina’s lifetime. The former even suggests AD 55, only the second year of Nero’s reign, which seems impossible. On the family relations of the Plautii, cf. Griffin (1984:116, 194, and footnotes); Syme (1986:52, 394); also Taylor (1956), with that family’s reconstructed stemma (ibid., 29); cf. Nicols (1978:14). There has been much speculation on the possible parentage of A.Plautius iuvenis. A.Plautius Silvanus Britannicus (see above, chapter 1, pp. 24f.) and Plautius Lateranus (see below, chapter 3, pp. 96f.) were too prominent for Tacitus to ignore the entire episode; I find P.Plautius Pulcher, the brother of Plautia Urgulanilla, more plausible (cf. Taylor (1956: loc. cit.)). As for Tib. Plautius Silvanus Aelianus, Plautia Urgulanilla’s adopted son (cons. suff. AD 45), the fact that he continued to govern Moesia late into Nero’s reign seems to rule him out. Of Agrippina’s earlier victims, Nero is said to have recalled from exile Iunia Calvina, whom in AD 48 Agrippina accused of incest with her brother, L.Iunius Silanus (Tac. Ann., 12, 4, 8), and one Calpurnia, ruined by Agrippina out of jealousy (Ann., 12, 22). About two ex-praetors, Valerius Capito and Licinius Gabolus, also restored on this occasion to the capital, nothing further is known. The ashes of Lollia Paullina, Caligula’s one-time wife (see below, p. 276) and Agrippina’s rival, forced to commit suicide, were restored to her tomb by Nero’s order. On the official records of all enactments (which included an extraordinary session of fratres Arvales), see Koestermann, 4, 47ff.; cf. Talbert (1984:357). Quintilian (8, 5, 15) preserved a characteristic sententia from the adulatory speech on this occasion by the well-known orator from Gaul, Iulius Africanus (his biography was later written by Tacitus’ friend Iulius Secundus—Dial., 14): rogant te, Caesar, Galliae tuae, ut felicitatem tuam fortiter feras. Note Tacitus’ comment on Nero’s own dissimulatio: he was pretending grief as if “angry at his own salvation and mourning the death of a parent.”

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See Koestermann, 4, 47f., on modern opinions about Thrasea Paetus’ démarche; cf. also De Vivo (1980:85). On his humanitas, see Syme (1958:561). Note libertas Thraseae (Tac. Ann., 14, 49) in connection with his intervention on the defendant’s behalf at the trial of Antistius Sosianus. On the meaning of libertas as an individual characteristic, see Wirszubski (1951:145ff., esp. 164ff.). As regards the opposition of libertas and regnum/servitium, cf. Tac. Agr., 2 and Ann., 6, 48. For Stoic martyrologies as Tacitus’ source on Thrasea Paetus, see Marx (1937:45). The Isidorus-Datus incident speaks, in fact, against the contention (e.g., Bradley, commentary, 237f.) that Nero was indifferent to personal insults. Bauman (1974: 142) dates it to the immediate aftermath of Agrippina’s murder. Nero’s subsequent ascent to the Capitol and performance of public vows (Ann., 14, 13) was in fact a travesty of a military triumph—cf. Walker (1950:79). On Nero’s existimatio, see Yavetz (1969:15ff., 67, 70, 75ff., 121ff.); on him as the idol of the masses, see also Levi (1949:113ff.). Note Fronto’s Princ. Hist., 17 on any emperor’s need of or concern with public performances for the sake of popularity, although I find Manning’s (1975) view that in performing on a public stage Nero was primarily motivated by political considerations unpersuasive. On Nero’s “artistic tyranny” and his program of cultural “re-education” of the Romans, cf. Griffin (1984: 40ff., also 109–15, 143–63, 246 n. 27–30); the phenomenon is misleadingly called by Charles-Picard (1968) and his followers, e.g., Cizek (1972:255ff.), “Neronism.” Harsh moralistic views on Greek athletes are expressed, e.g., by Sen. Epist., 88, 18; Plin. NH, 35, 167; Luc. Bell. Civ., 7, 270; cf. also Bione (1938). On the Juvenalia, see Bradley, commentary, 82; cf. also Griffin (1984:43ff., 109f.). One of the difficulties in a treatment of the Neronian festivities is the discontinuous character of Suetonius’ narrative: it is not always clear to what date, or festival, his information should be assigned. Suetonius claims (Nero, 12) that at one point four hundred senators and six hundred equestrians (possibly an exaggeration), “some of whom were well-to-do and of unblemished reputation,” fought in the arena; on this matter as well as on the penalties for public exhibitions imposed on the members of the upper classes, see Koestermann, 4, 53f.; cf. Manning (1975:173). Violated under Caligula and Nero, the prohibition was reaffirmed by Vitellius (Talbert (1984:46)). Note Dio’s (61, 19) anecdote of the octogenarian Aelia Catella dancing in a pantomime. Note also the participation in the Juvenalia mimes—“first as if under compulsion, but then of his own will”—of Vitellius’ future strongman Fabius Valens, “who acted rather knowingly than decently” (Tac. Hist., 3, 62); see, however, Yavetz (1969: 128) on the problem of debts which could make certain upper-class individuals willing to appear on stage. According to Dio (61, 17), senatorial and equestrian volunteers first appeared on stage during the festival Nero celebrated in honor of Agrippina; this is implausible: probably the text is corrupted or was tampered with by the late epitomators. In Agrippina’s lifetime such an event would not have been possible; it is even less conceivable after her death, given the charge of treason made against her posthumously. Tacitus specifies (Ann., 14, 13) that initially Seneca and Burrus acceded

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to Nero’s semi-private chariot-driving, and that this compromise predictably led to their ultimate compliance with his public performances on stage. Furthermore, Nero’s own arrival on stage was announced (Dio, 61, 20) by Seneca’s brother, Iunius Gallio; cf. the similar role of the ex-consul and future historian Cluvius Rufus at the Neronia II of AD 65. Tacitus, on the other hand, specifically mentions (Ann., 16, 21), in the context of his trial in AD 66, Thrasea Paetus’ lack of enthusiasm during the Juvenalia as one of the reasons for Nero’s animosity toward him. Cf. an anecdote in Philostr. Vita Apol., 4, 39, about a street singer performing Nero’s songs who accused Apollonius of Tyana and his friends of maiestas for their lack of attention, and the sage’s humorous response and payment to avoid trouble. On the origin and function of the Augustiani, see Bradley, commentary, 127. Suetonius (Nero, 20) adds to this equestrian contingent more than five thousand commoners; Dio (62, 20) maintains the same number but calls them “soldiers” and “a special corps.” On Neronia I, cf. Bradley, commentary, 87f.; Koestermann, 4, 62ff.; Griffin (1984:44, 109f.). According to Suetonius (Nero, 12), the Neronia were supervised by ex-consuls (instead of praetors, as one would have expected); cf. also Tac. Ann., 15, 20. From Suetonius account (Nero, 12) it seems that Nero took no part in the contest in oratory, although the first prize was yielded to him by the “unanimous consent” of “all the most eminent men who contended;” but he must have participated in the lyreplaying competition, again winning the first prize, which he is said to have placed at the feet of Augustus’ statue. Tacitus (Ann., 14, 21) reports that the first prize for eloquence was not awarded, but that it was announced that Nero proved a victor. In Vit., 4, Suetonius reports that Vitellius, presiding over the contests of the lyre-players, called Nero back on the grounds of popular demand when he made a show of withdrawing out of shyness, and thus earned his favor. This anecdote implies that Nero did perform after all, but it is not clear whether it refers to the first or second Neronia. On the Pompeii-Nuceria incident, cf. Koestermann, 4, 58f.; Talbert (1984: 421); see also Moeller’s (1970) argument that the fracas may have taken place during a mock gladiatorial engagement between respective collegia iuvenum at the instigation of fan clubs possibly involved in local politics. Livineius Regulus’ role is not discussed; note, however, Moeller’s (ibid., 92f.) observation on five occasions in the later Empire when a ban on the gladiatorial games was imposed as a penalty for treasonous activity and speech against an emperor. On the other hand, there could have been some deeper grievance than inter-city hostilities, since the decree that laid penalties on the citizens of Pompeii, in addition to barring them from similar gatherings for ten years, is reported to have dissolved the illegal collegia that were in existence—Tac. Ann., 14, 17; cf. Brunt (1961: esp. 213ff.). New officials to supervise public order—a praefectus iuri dicundo and two duoviri—were appointed as a consequence of this event (Koestermann, 4, loc. cit.), which was apparently considered of some importance for local annals, as the famous fresco, now in the Museo Nazionale in Naples, testifies (cf. the enmity between the two cities expressed in graffiti—CIL, 4, 1293, 1329, 2183).

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There is also a possibility that the episode was in some way related to the new colony of veterans Nero had sent to Nuceria two years earlier. Rubellius Plautus was the son of one C.Rubellius Blandus and Iulia, daughter of the younger Drusus, one of Messallina’s victims. On him, see Henderson (1903:133–5, 143); Warmington (1969:44–51); Griffin (1984:74ff., 85, 98ff., 170ff., 175, 178, 195); cf. Syme (1958:555, 560, 576, and 1986:51, 160, 182, and esp. 281ff.); Raaflaub (1986:10ff., 20); Wiedemann (1989b:33). On Nero’s obsession with comets, his consultation with an astrologer and his ensuing political fears, see Suet. Nero, 36 (and Bradley, commentary, 219). On the comet that undid Rubellius Plautus, cf. Koestermann, 4, 68; Rogers (1953). It may well have been on this occasion that, according to Dio, Seneca remarked to Nero: “No matter how many you may slay, you cannot kill your own successor” (62, 18, 3). This, however, must have been a traditional rhetorical dictum. On severitas, see OLD, 1750; cf. Suetonius’ comment (Nero, 37) that what caused Thrasea Paetus’ destruction had been his tristior et paedagogi vultus. On Boudicca’s rebellion, see, e.g., Dudley and Webster (1962). It was by no means a mature national liberation movement like, for instance, the Judaic War of AD 66– 70, but a case of spontaneous resistance to a recent foreign invader. Veterans who were newly settled in the colony of Camulodunium seem to have been largely responsible for the sense of outrage felt by the Britons, cf. Tac. Ann., 14, 31. In the Annales, Tacitus’ bias in favor of Suetonius Paullinus is obvious: Catus Decianus is charged with obstructing public good by his private feud (14, 38), and it is clearly implied that the governor fell victim to him. In the Agricola, however, the latter’s terrorist policies and arrogant treatment of the defeated are recognized (16); cf. Griffin (1984:230). To resolve the quarrel between the governor and the procurator, Nero sent a powerful but despised freedman, Polyclitus (cf. on him below, p. 307), to arbitrate, which was an error of judgment: Suetonius Paullinus took it as deliberate effrontery (Ann., 14, 39). On Suetonius Paullinus under Nero cf. Campbell (1984:321f.); on his subsequent eclipse, see Birley (1981:54ff.). The consul of AD 66 of the same name may have been the general’s son. For Suetonius Paullinus under Otho, see Tac. Hist., 1, 87, 90; 2, 23–6, 32–3, 37, 39, 40, 44; Plut. Otho, 5, 7–8, 11, 13. A suggestive parallel to his career is that of Tacitus’ father-in-law, Agricola, under Domitian (cf., esp., Tac. Agr., 40f.). For Tacitus’ Agricola, see, in particular, the excellent Ogilvie-Richmond commentary. As regards his mother’s prohibition of Agricola’s philosophical pursuits, cf. Agrippina’s similar action on behalf of Nero (Suet. Nero, 52). Upon Nero’s downfall Galba commissioned Agricola with the financial investigation of temple gifts (Agr., 6). Agricola’s mother was murdered the following year by Otho’s riotous soldiers (ibid., 7). Of the recent works on slavery of the period, see, in particular, Bradley (1984). On the debate de fraudibus libertorum in the Senate see Crook (1955: 46); Talbert (1984:169); Garnsey and Saller (1987:120); also, St Croix (1981). Satire directed against the freedmen as such is conspicuous in the literature of the times—see

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Petronius’ Cena or Persius, Sat., 5. cf. Tacitus’ remarks in connection with Polyclitus (Ann., 14, 39). On the Pedanius Secundus affair, cf. Bradley (1984:99ff., 114, 131, 13); St Croix (1981:372, 409); Yavetz (1969:29, 35); Koestermann, 4, 105ff. I could not get hold of Wolf (1988), whose argument seems to be that in describing this episode Tacitus was also concerned with the developments under Trajan. The murder of Pedanius Secundus was the more publicized of the two common crimes recorded by Tacitus under the same year (Ann., 14, 40f.). The other appears curious, though of a nonpolitical nature, and concerned the fabrication of a false will; one may note, however, that among the will forgers condemned under the lex Cornelia was M.Antonius Primus, later a notorious military adventurer during the civil war of AD 69. On the custom of penalizing entire households in the republican period, cf. Cic. Ad Fam., 4, 12; Koestermann, 4, 106.; on the size of Pedanius Secundus’ familia, see Syme (1958: 602). It has been rightly suggested (Koestermann, 4, loc. cit.) that by describing Pedanius Secundus’ slaves as innoxios Tacitus seems to have signaled that he himself inclined toward the milder legal position. On Nero’s populism and his apprehension of the plebs sordida, see Yavetz (1969:18, 125, 135, 138, 146); on the psychological and social affinities between slaves, freedmen, and the free-born poor, see ibid., 138; cf. Alföldy (1985:136f.). On C.Cassius Longinus, see Henderson (1903:91–2,289); Warmington (1969: 37, 140); Griffin (1984:56, 116, 169ff., 171, 178, 195); Syme (1958:354ff., 447ff., 563ff. and 1986:175, 186, 192, 197, 306); on him as a lawyer, see D’Ippolito (1969); on his psychological make-up, cf. Knabe (1970:77f.). Cassius Longinus’ role in Eastern politics is reflected on the Antiochan coins bearing his name—Eckhel apud; cf. Campbell (1984:306, 321). Upon his failure to resolve the crisis in Puteoli, the senatorial commission was transferred to the Scribonii brothers (victims of Nero in the last years of his rule—see below, chapter 5, pp. 199f.), who acted, it is said, with no less severity but suppressed the rioting with the aid of a praetorian cohort and a few executions (Ann., 13, 48); cf. Koestermann, 4, 331; Talbert (1984:384, 417). On Cassius Longinus’ move regarding excessive honors to Nero, ibid, 359. For public speeches in Tacitus and their possible documentary sources, see Syme (1958:192ff., 317ff., also 791); cf. Adams (1974):124ff.). On Tacitus’ version of Cassius Longinus’ oration as very likely derived from the actus senatus, see Koestermann, 4, 160f. The formulation princeps omnibus legibus solutus est (CIC, 1, 2, 6; 2, 17, 8) is of later origin—cf. Suerbaum (1970:80). However, this idea is already crucial for Seneca’s De Clementia. For juridical brutality advocated by conservatives of the Cassius Longinus mold, cf. Knabe (1970:77f.): Mos maiorum, antiqua virtus, rei publicae utilitas…here represent an aristocratic indifference to the ordinary people, a self-opinionated and inept flippancy and infinite brutality…. In the first century AD this [brutality] was increasingly condemned, first morally, then juridically. It was a new trend, and thus an insistence on mos maiorum was

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increasingly connected with a desire to justify brutality, to counterpose conservative dogma to the demands of the time. There were occasions when the mere name mos maiorum was synonymous with cruelty.

Regarding Seneca’s views on slavery, see a detailed discussion in Griffin (1976: 157ff.). Cingonius Varro later became the eminence grise behind the abortive revolt of Nymphidius Sabinus against Galba (see below, chapter 6, p. 237). On the gladiatorial riot in Praeneste, cf. Koestermann, 4, 262; MacMullen (1966: 337ff., n. 6). The mention of Spartacus suggests that it was the clearest case under Nero of class struggle in the strict Marxist sense, that is, a clash between antagonistic classes—Cizek (1972:191). Memmius Regulus was the governor of Moesia, Achaia, and Macedonia in AD 35–44; on him, cf. RE, s.v.; Syme (1958:579, 787); Koestermann, 4, 114f. Wiedemann (1989b:51), suggests that Lollia Paullina may have been Augustus’ stepgreat-granddaughter—in that case, Memmius Regulus’ willingness to repudiate her signaled his lack of interest in kinship with the dynasty and therefore his innocuousness as a potential “dynastic dissident.” Lollia Paulina’s sister was married to Valerius Asiaticus, one of the Imperial pretenders after Caligula’s murder. On Lollia Paullina’s riches, see Plin. NH, 9, 117. Oliver’s (1966) view that Memmius Regulus behaved on that occasion according to the proprieties is unconvincing: our sources emphatically treat the entire affair as scandalous. Cf. Campbell (1984:335) in connection with Tacitus’ comment (Agr., 6) that under Nero the “wise men” lay low: “This illustrates vividly the hatred and fear among the senators of an emperor who despised and neglected merit.” Tacitus, in his accounts of trials, is short on juridical detail (often it is difficult even to determine the legal character of the accusation); it seems that, characteristically, he saw legal aspects as possessing little import: the charges could easily be trumped up, and it was not formulas but circumstances that mattered. On the maiestas trials under Nero, see, in some detail, Bauman (1974:141–57ff.). The maiestas law was a highly unpopular measure, and Nero was reluctant to invoke it in cases of defamation. Bauman (1974: 141f.) argues convincingly, for instance, that Isidorus and Datus (see above, p. 272) were banished by him on the grounds not of maiestas but of lex Cornelia de iniuriis. Suetonius’ assertion (Nero, 39) of Nero’s leniency to those “who assailed him with gibes and lampoons” should not be given full credit: he tended to generalize on insufficient evidence. Cf. Nero’s harsh treatment of his other critics—Vestinus Atticus (below, chapter 3, p. 120), Curtius Montanus (chapter 3, p. 120), and Annaeus Cornutus (chapter 5, pp. 151, 178); On Antistius Sosianus, see Henderson (1903:87, 96, 135, 265, 290); Warmington (1969:36, 135f.); Syme (1958:298). On his trial, see also Koestermann, 4, 115ff.; Rogers (1951); Bauman (1974:143ff.); Bradley (1973); Talbert (1984:170, 471). Rayment (1958) argues that the Antistius Sosianus affair was reflected in PseudoQuintilian’s Declamationes minores (245 and 251). I find implausible Bauman’s (1974:

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144ff.) treatment of the episode, according to which it was not the prosecution but Thrasea Paetus who invoked the maiestas charge against Antistius Sosianus, to mitigate the harsher penalty. Bauman leaves unclear on what, if not the maiestas law, the original charge could have been based. It certainly could not have been based “on certain rules dealing with magical spells and incantations and reputed to have originated in the XII Tables,” as he argues (ibid., 64) was the case with Clutorius Priscus under Tiberius (Tac. Ann., 3, 49ff.; cf. above, p. 256)—the very case that constituted a precedent of capital punishment for “verbal treason.” If Bauman’s view is accepted, Thrasea Paetus’ conduct was baffling: for a senator of his rank to invoke the dreaded maiestas law for any tactical purposes would have been suicidal. The belief of Nero’s originally benevolent intent in regard to Antistius Sosianus is accepted, e.g., by De Vivo (1980); see, however, Bradley (1973:173ff.) on the unlikelihood of his initial involvement. Most likely, the rumors to that effect were spread post factum. On Cossutianus Capito’s restoration to the curia by Nero’s gratia in response to the preces of Tigellinus, cf. Talbert (1984:29); Millar (1977:297). Ostorius Scapula may conceivably have been Antistius Sosianus’ patron. However, even though it is not possible to ascertain the concrete benefits he or Tigellinus could have derived from Antistius Sosianus’ impeachment, both of them were sufficiently experienced in court politics to feel confident that Nero would not be displeased by their initiative. Tacitus’ specific mention of Ostorius Scapula’s denial makes, in my opinion, implausible Bradley’s (1973:177) hypothesis that he connived with the prosecution. On official documents as Tacitus’ sources, cf. Syme (1958:185ff., 296ff.); Questa (1967:236ff.); Townend (1962). Thrasea Paetus wrote Cato’s biography (Plut. Cato, 25, 37; cf. below, chapter 4, pp. 162ff.). Rogers (1951) draws a number of parallels between Tacitus’ description of the Antistius Sosianus affair and his treatment of the affair of Clutorius Priscus defended, with the help of a very similar argument, by M.Aemilius Lepidus. Those similarities (as well as those with Caesar in Sallust) are obvious and had already been pointed out as early as Furneaux (2, 292)—all three arguments, furthermore, are elaborations of rhetorical topoi. This fact, however, should by no means makes us repudiate, following Rogers, Tacitus’ narrative as fiction. If an event is described within a traditional rhetorical framework, it does not follow that it never took place. To think otherwise means to project a literary perspective on the historical process, and a logical error of substitutio presumptionis. Precedents per se exercised among the Romans a strong compelling force, and not only in legal matters. Interestingly, Thrasea Paetus was seen as a formidable moral authority, even by cynical opportunists like Vitellius. Tacitus (Hist., 2, 91) makes Vitellius in AD 69, by which time he was emperor, represent his quarrels with Thrasea Paetus in the curia as a manifestation of his own independent spirit and freedom of speech—cf. Melmoux (1975:33f.). On libertas Thraseae as connoting independence of mind and conduct, see Wirszubski (1950:143ff.). Talbert (1984:479) points out that Thrasea Paetus’ success in making the senators mitigate the sentence on Antistius Sosianus was exceptional and remarks that an instant execution

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of Clutorius Priscus on a similarly trivial charge “was much more characteristic senatorial behavior.” On Fabricius Veiento, see Syme (1958), 4ff., 292, 301, 633); Knabe (1970: 67f.); McDermott and Orentzel (1979); Sherwin-White, 300. Note the similarity of Antistius Sosianus’ and Fabricius Veiento’s attitudes toward the senatorial establishment: the former defied it as a tribune, the latter as a poet-satirist. The maiestas aspects of both affairs were not unsimilar either (haud dispari crimine— Ann., 14, 50). Baumann (1974:32f.) ingeniously suggests that Fabricius Veiento, by imitating in form the testamentary documents, exploited Augustus’ veto (Suet. Div. Aug., 56) of the proposal to restrain freedom of speech in wills. A good example of such “posthumous abuse” was the will of Fulcinius Trio, cons. AD 31, savagely attacking Tiberius and his henchmen (Tac. Ann., 6, 38; cf. Suet. Tib., 59); cf. Petronius’ deathbed “catalogue of vices” (below, chapter 4, p. 157)). Legacy hunting, on the other hand, figures frequently in Roman satire—e.g., Petr. Sat., 116f., 125f. On the other hand, the anonymous satire Testamentum Porcilli is an example of a literary subgenre to which Fabricius Veiento’s Codicilli may have belonged. See also, on Fabricius Veiento’s writings, Sullivan (1985:34ff., 168, 182); Koestermann, 4, 129f.; on Lucilius, Williams (1968:447ff.) (cf. in this connection Lucan’s carmen famosum attacking the emperor and his friends—below, p. 287). On the book-burning, see, e.g., Baumann (1974:47ff.); MacMullen (1966:304 n. 45). As regards Nero’s personal treatment of this case, Baumann suggests that he did so because Fabricius Veiento was accused of ambitus. Millar (1977:292f.) believes that it was “the right of seeking honors” Fabricius Veiento was accused of selling, the charge embarrassing to Nero which explains why the latter chose to try him personally, cf. Talbert (1984: 466). As for Fabricius Veiento’s later activities, Sherwin-White, 300, speculates that he may even have had a hand in the succession of Trajan. In AD 97 he opposed Pliny’s attempt (Epist., 9, 13) to impeach Publicius Certus, the destroyer of the younger Helvidius Priscus. Persius was born in Volterra on December 4, AD 34, and died on November 24, AD 62; on him as a dissident, cf. MacMullen (1966:38ff., and footnotes); Griffin (1984:157). The dissident facet of Persius’ satires is extensively treated in my literary companion volume to this study, now in preparation. On the Vita Persii, its authorship, date, and significance, see especially Rostagni’s (1944) edition of Suetonius’ minor biographies, 167ff., where it is convincingly attributed to the grammarian M.Valerius Probus writing a few decades after Persius’ death. The main reason for my belief that the text is valid, and that, even if written substantially later (which is still not sufficiently proved), it must be traced to an earlier authentic source, is the wealth of small biographical details which could not be invented (e.g., the exact location of the villa where Persius died; references to his stepfather, to his sister and aunt, and to his will, etc.—cf. Rostagni (1944)). On Persius’ satires, see, in particular, Guillemin (1938); Martin (1939); against the view that they are pure literary exercises removed from reality, see Anderson (1966:409ff.); Williams (1978: 282); Sullivan (1985: 92ff.). Pers. Sat., 1, 93–102, may be construed as a parody of

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Nero’s own verse; cf. also Sullivan (1985:100ff.). There exists a controversial piece of information at the end of the Vita. It is claimed that the final portion of the first satire—in the reference to the ass-eared King Midas—attacked Nero personally, and that Annaeus Cornutus, preparing the text for publication, changed the subversive line (Pers. Sat., 1, 121) by omitting the king’s proper name and replacing it with the impersonal “everybody,” so that the animus nocendi was thereby eliminated. There is no way to determine conclusively whether this is authentic or a product of the imagination of a later biographer or commentator. If true, it seems a unique testimony to the elusive (especially in classical times) phenomenon of self-censorship. If not, it still possesses, even as a subsequent invention, the rare value of providing us with an insight into the Imperial Romans’ way of seeing literary activity in relation to their lives under tyrannical rule (on the problem of this passage’s authenticity and its position in the text of the Vita, cf. Hermann (1928:315); Rostagni (1944: loc. cit.)). On cultural idealism as a means of dissident accommodation to reality, see Rudich (1985). As regards Annaeus Cornutus’ relationship with the Annaei, cf. MacMullen (1966:23); in his will Persius left Annaeus Cornutus much money and a huge library (Vita, 40). On the possibility of Persius’ poisoning by Nero, see Hermann (1963); cf. MacMullen (1966:39, 304). Both Dio (62, 13) and Suetonius (Nero, 35) state Burrus’ murder as a fact; on Burrus’ death, cf. McDermott (1949:250). On Burrus’ ego bene me habeo, and a similar dictum about Metellus Scipio at the moment of suicide, cf. Koestermann, 4, 122. Despite Baldwin’s (1967; 1974) contention to the contrary, there was a perceptible difference in the moral conduct of the multi bonique and the pauci et validi: in their activities the former strove to avoid the destruction of their peers, while the latter welcomed it; cf. Tacitus’ deliberately contrasting obituaries (Ann., 14, 19) of the historian M.Servilius Nonianus and the opportunistic orator Cn. Domitius Afer; also Syme (1958:338). On the hereditary character of collaborationism, cf. Dorey (1966); Schneider (1942:122ff.); Bergener (1965:212ff.). On Tigellinus, see Koestermann, 4, 123f.; Syme (1958:101, 263, 387, 551, 555); Griffin (1976:89ff., 95, 246ff., 363, esp. 448ff. and 1984:100ff.); Roper (1979). According to Schol. ad Juv., 1, 155f., admittedly not a fully reliable source, he came from Agrigentum. His father is said to have been exiled, on unspecified grounds, to Scyllaceum, so that he may have originally possessed (not unlike Poppaea Sabina) reasons for odium paternum in Principes. The same schol. asserts that he received a rich inheritance and was allowed by Claudius to return on the condition that he stay away from the court; he is said to have ingratiated himself with Nero by teaching him to ride chariots. Roper (1979) argues that Seneca for some time patronized Tigellinus. From this, however, it does not follow, as Wiedemann (1989b:59), seems to believe, that his appointment would not have threatened Seneca or signified a new political direction. An opportunist of Tigellinus’ stamp would not have been bound by the concept of beneficium, but rather would follow his own immediate interests and ally himself with whoever was strongest. At the moment, such was Poppaea Sabina’s faction, whose pressure on Nero to divorce Octavia and marry her Burrus (and, by

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extension, Seneca) staunchly opposed. Still, a certain similarity between Seneca’s and Tigellinus’ careers—both in their setbacks and in their rise to power—calls for attention: they evidently belonged to the same intimate circle under Caligula, and Schol. ad Iuv., loc. cit., reports that Tigellinus—precisely like Seneca—was rumored to be having affairs with both Livilla and Agrippina (as well as—if we accept the manuscript’s concubinatu against Buechler’s emendation, contubernio—with their husbands, M.Vinicius and Domitius Ahenobarbus, Nero’s father). It is idle to debate (cf. Shotter (1969); and Baldwin (1970)) how accurately Tacitus’ phrases mors Burri infregit Senecae potentiam (Ann., 14, 52) and perculso Seneca (ibid., 57) describe what happened; even if one allows, as Baldwin assumes, that one prefect, Faenius Rufus, remained Seneca’s loyal supporter, this is still a far cry from the close partnership with Burrus, the sole commander of the guard. Seneca may have continued for some time to enjoy a certain amount of influence, but he must have realized that his grasp over Nero was broken; otherwise he would not have requested retirement. As regards the change of the regime’s political direction, cf. Griffin’s (1984:158), observation that in AD 60–1 Nero ceased to uphold the conservative tradition of assigning ordinary consulships only to men from the consular families. On the Seneca-Nero exchange, see especially Syme (1958:335); Grimal (1967); Bastomsky (1972); Frings (1973). Koestermann, 4, 127, traces Tacitus’ source to Fabius Rusticus, but also points out the difference in style between Tacitus’ text and Seneca’s prose. On the exchange reflecting Seneca’s genuine view, cf. Grimal (1967); on the spurious Seneca-Nero correspondence, see Speyer (1971). As regards the dissimulatio practiced by both, cf., on “Linguistic der Lüge,” Frings (1973:74ff.); also Syme (1958:335). It surprises me that Henry and Walker (1963:104f.), could describe Tacitus’ account as an artistic failure. The revisionist argument—e.g., Rogers (1955)—that the “dynastic dissidents” had, in fact, been plotting against Nero and for this suffered a just penalty assumes Nero’s repressive policies to have been rational and consistent—an assumption that contradicts available evidence. On the popular derogatory view of Stoicism reflected in our sources (e.g., Tac. Ann., 13, 42; Hist., 3, 81; Agr., 4; Quint., 12, 27; Pers., 5, 189ff., etc.), cf. MacMullen (1966:46ff., 62); Griffin (1976:140ff.); Ogilvie-Richmond, 143; on the government’s view of Stoicism as a source of subversion, see, especially, MacMullen (op. cit., chapters 1 and 2). Although no formal sentence was passed by the Senate in regard to Cornelius Sulla and Rubellius Plautus, in the latter’s case a modicum of ceremony was observed: he was executed in the “official” presence of the eunuch Pelago, appointed by Nero to preside over the killing squad—Ann., 14, 59; cf. Koestermann, 4, 140ff. Posthumous expulsion of Imperial victims from the curia was apparently part of damnatio memoriae—cf. Koestermann, 4, 145; Talbert (1984:27). Stalinist parallels could easily be listed. On Tacitus’ source in regard to the authenticity of Antistius Vetus’ message to Rubellius Plautus, see Koestermann, 4, 141; Syme (1958:298); cf. Bellardi

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(1974: 136) who believes that in his heart Tacitus concurred with the conduct advocated by Antistius Vetus. According to one version of the events, Rubellius Plautus was reassured by yet another, this time erroneous, message from Antistius Vetus that the danger had passed (Ann., 14, 59), but Tacitus does not seem to give it full credit—cf. Koestermann, 4, loc. cit.; Marx (1937:83ff.); Syme (1958:298); Questa (1967:234ff.). On Tacitus’ sources in the literature of exitus illustrium virorum, see Marx (1937); cf. Ronconi (1940). Plutarch mentions, as a matter of common knowledge, that Nero exterminated Rubellius Plautus’ friends (De amic. mult., 96B), but the reference is too vague to ascertain who is meant—Antistius Vetus and Barea Soranus, who perished in AD 66 (in the meanwhile both of them received important appointments as governors in Asia—see below, chapter 4, pp. 141, 158) or, in the immediate aftermath, some individuals unknown to us, which is less likely, since they would have been mentioned by Tacitus. We cannot date the exile of Piso Licinianus’, the future “Five-DayCaesar”, but it seems more probable that he suffered not because of his friendship with Rubellius Plautus, but in connection with the disgrace of his father, Licinius Crassus Frugi, consul AD 27, or his brother, Licinius Crassus Frugi, consul AD 64—see below, chapter 5, pp. 202f. On Octavia, see Henderson (1903:143–8); Warmington (1969:44–51); Griffin (1984:28ff., 46, 72ff., 98ff., 111ff., 194); Baumann (1974:188ff.). Even if some details of her ruin are invented by our sources to suit anecdotal biography (such as Suetonius’ allegation of the emperor’s futile attempts to strangle his wife (Nero, 35)), I see no reason to doubt the authenticity of Tacitus’ account of the main developments, which is corroborated by other sources including the nearcontemporary Octavia Praetexta. Even though the formal quaestio procedure against Octavia is mentioned by Tacitus (Ann., 14, 60), it does not warrant Rogers’ (1955: 19), conclusion that Nero’s government was not therefore an “autocratic, capricious, utterly lawless tyranny;” cf. Koestermann, 4, 146. As regards Octavia’s alleged adultery with the flute-player, cf. a witty, though obscene, rejoinder aimed by her maid Pythias, while still under torture, at Tigellinus, who was evidently acting as an interrogator—Tac. Ann., 14, 60; cf. Suet. Nero, 35; Dio, 62, 13. As for Anicetus, another alleged adulterer, he was, in order to preserve appearances, banished to Sardinia and, according to Tacitus (Ann., 14, 62), there enjoyed a comfortable exile until he died from natural causes. Zonaras’ excerpt also mentions that Octavia was charged with magic, but this must have pertained to the administration of drugs with the supposed purpose of abortion- see Baumann (1974:190). See ibid., 130ff. and, especially, 176ff., for other examples of adultery charges serving a political purpose against high-born individuals. Baumann’s argument (ibid., 189), based on the Octavia Praetexta, 863ff., that Octavia may in fact have been involved in a conspiracy is, however, a misunderstanding: the lines in question speak only of such a belief by Nero as a dramatic character, not by the play’s author. However, the clientela was often regarded as a source of potential political trouble—cf., e.g., Agrippina’s charges against Domitia Lepida (cf. chapter 1, p. 18, chapter 4, p. 168, and chapter 5,

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p. 203). On the popular riot in support of Octavia, cf. Yavetz (1969:15, 125); on its spontaneity, see Koestermann, 4, 146f. Note the parallel lists of the great ladies who had earlier fallen Imperial victims and who are said to have been, like Octavia, pitied by the mob, in the Annales (14, 63—the elder Agrippina, Iulia Livilla) and the Octavia Praetexta (932–57—Agrippina the Elder, Livilla the wife of Drusus, Iulia Livilla her daughter, Messallina, and finally Agrippina); see also Syme (1986: index). On the date and circumstances of Octavia’s death, cf. Koestermann, 4, 154. 3 THE YEARS OF ACTION Doryphorus, the secretary a libellis, seems to have been a successor of Callistus and a predecessor of Epaphroditus—Koestermann, 4, 155f.; cf. Millar (1977: 77). Suetonius mistakenly cites (Nero, 29) Doryphorus (instead of Pythagorus) as Nero’s homosexual spouse. Dio (61, 5, 4) asserts that at one point Nero presented Doryphorus with ten million sesterces; any political cause for his removal, aside from that stated by Tacitus, is unknown. Dio (62, 14, 3) refers to Pallas’ murder as an established fact and estimates his wealth at four hundred million sesterces; cf. also Plin. Epist., 7, 29; 8, 6. It appears unlikely that at this stage Pallas could have been involved in any political or court intrigue, although somewhat earlier he was able to rescue his brother Antonius Felix from the troubles caused by complaints against him by his former province, Judaea (Jos. Ant. Jud., 20, 182); cf. Koestermann, 4, 156; also, Oost (1958:137f.). Henderson (1903:258, 282) and Bishop (1964:91) accept the Romanus affair as a “prefiguration” of the Pisonian conspiracy; see, however, Syme (1958:745); Griffin (1984:85); Koestermann, 4, 156; cf. Saller (1982:78) on political dangers involved in aristocratic amicitia. Romanus possibly was an Imperial freedman. Wiedemann’s (1989b: 40) view that by his abduction of Livia Orestilla, Caligula sought to “control” her marriage to Piso seems to me implausible—after all, he made her divorce her husband and married her officially (cf. the parallel case of Lollia Paullina and Memmius Regulus—above, chapter 2, p. 55). Suetonius (Cal., 25) says that Piso and Livia Orestilla were exiled for having resumed the intercourse two years after the incident. The calculation made on the Arval Brothers’ entries shows that Piso’s return did not happen before June AD 41; less than a year after Caligula was dead. On the meaning of the word socius in the context of the “first Pisonian conspiracy,” cf. Furneaux, 2, 314f. On the matter of fraudulent adoptions, see details in Koestermann, 4, 196, with further references. For the disappearance of the legend EX S.C. from Nero’s coins, see Griffin (1984:85). On the Cretan episode, see Syme (1958: 467); Brunt (1961); Koestermann, 4, 198f.; Millar (1977:347); De Vivo (1980: 90ff.); cf. also Bauman’s (1974:32f.) argument that Claudius Timarchus was actually tried on the maiestas charge in the meaning given to it by Augustus—calumny against the illustres. In Thrasea Paetus’ speech, note the moralist and traditionalist vocabulary—exempla honesta fides constantiaque Romana, severitas obstinata, invictus adversus gratiam animus—as

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well as references to the lex Cincia, forbidding lawyers from taking gifts from their clients, and the lex Calpurnia de repetundis, still of republican times (149 BC). On Thrasea Paetus as emendator senatus and his impact upon his audience, see also Syme (1958:561, 725); twice—in the cases of Antistius Sosianus and Claudius Timarchus— he swayed his audience and won the day; cf. also Nero’s positioning the praetorian guards around the Senate building during his own trial in absentia—Tac. Ann., 16, 27, and below, chapter 4 (pp. 172f.). On “utilitarian compromise” and “pessimistic generalization” (with a view to the idealized past) as dissident devices of accommodation to reality, see Rudich (1985). On secessio, cf. Luc. Bell. Civ., 8, 493ff.; on its contemplative value, see Sen. Epist., 8, 2. On Nero’s renunciatio amicitiae and the subsequent attempt at reconciliation with Thrasea Paetus, cf. Koestermann, 4, 206f.; Griffin (1984: 165ff.). Sizoo (1927:47) and De Vivo (1980:96) believe, in my view erroneously, that Seneca acted as a mediator. As regards the relationship between Seneca and Thrasea Paetus’ circle, one may recall that Persius, the latter’s friend, when introduced to the former, remained unimpressed—above, chapter 2 (p. 61). For Seneca moral virtue was exemplified by the intransigent Greek Demetrius the Cynic, rather than by his own senatorial peer, Thrasea Paetus. The apotheosis of Nero’s infant daughter (cf. also Tac. Ann., 16, 6) is a remarkable sign of Nero’s sentimentality, but one wonders whether the Roman populace could have taken this ridiculous spectacle seriously; cf. on the entire episode, Koestermann, 4, 204. If we allow, following Griffin (1984: esp. 119ff.), that Nero’s “tyranny of art” had a meaning larger than personal fantasy, as a program of “cultural re-education” for the Roman nation, his decision first to perform before the Greeks was a temporary compromise. On the superiority of Tacitus’ chronology to that of Suetonius, which is fraught with discontinuities and from which it follows that Nero returned from Naples to Rome for a celebration of the Neronia II , see Bradley, commentary, 124ff., 128f. Suetonius (Nero, 20) dates Nero’s organization of the Augustiani to his stay in Naples, which, most likely, is an error. Preference, in terms of accuracy, should be given to Tacitus’ dating (confirmed by Dio); Bradley suggests that Suetonius meant the next stage in the development of that corps. Suetonius (ibid.) asserts that in Naples Nero continued to perform even when the earthquake was in progress, but this seems a piece of fiction intended for dramatic effect. On the Pompeian wall inscription pro salute Neronis in terrae motu (CIL 4, 3822), see Bradley, commentary, 125. Attempting to reconstruct the sequence of events, Bradley argues that Nero in fact planned to embark on his Oriental tour at a much later date and that the only purpose of his visit to Beneventum was to attend the games. By his detestation of Vatinius’ low origin, Tacitus indulged in his habitual social snobbery; cf. his similar comments on Vibius Crispus in Dial. On Vatinius, cf. Tac. Hist., 1, 37; Dio, 63, 15; Juv., 5, 46; Mart., 10, 3; 14, 96; Sen. Epist., 94, 25; 118, 4; 120, 19; Koestermann, 4, 224ff.; Syme (1958: 356, 732). On D.Iunius Silanus Torquatus, see Henderson (1903:236); Warmington (1969: 140); Griffin (1984:85, 88, 115, 138, 164ff., 170, 206). Rogers (1955: 207) concurs

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with Nero in the belief that the nomenclature adopted in Silanus Torquatus’ household betrayed preparations for a coup. He also considers Silanus Torquatus’ suicide proof of his guilt—Rogers (1952:303). See, however, Weaver (1972:262f.), on the use of similar nomenclature in private households from the republican period onwards; note also Koestermann’s (4, 226ff.) objection, with reference to Ps.Quint. Decl., 353, to Mommsen’s view that Claudius imposed official restrictions on this kind of titulature in private households. A large household (and, in particular, a large clientela) could on occasion be perceived by the authorities as a potential source of trouble (cf., e.g., chapter 2, p. 71). But no conspirator would draw attention to his activities by openly bestowing on his associates the nomenclature that could have been considered appropriate only to the heads of the officia, the Imperial secretariate. Cf.Talbert (1984:479) regarding Nero’s pledge of mercy upon Silanus Torquatus’ suicide: “contemporaries remained unconvinced—perhaps rightly so.” It may be argued that Tigellinus’ gala of AD 64 and similar Neronian public events possessed a carnivalesque character (in Bakhtinian terms) traceable to archaic religious customs, including sacred prostitution, communal orgies, and so forth. Such an interpretation, offered, e.g., by Allen (1962), must, however, be taken with caution, and even if it was so, this is irrelevant to the issue under discussion. Senatorial dissidents, exemplified by Tacitus, most certainly refused to regard these proceedings as in any sense religious, but found them morally repulsive. On Nero as “social beast,” cf. Phil. Vita Apol., 4, 38: In any case, though this monster is said to be a social beast and to inhabit the heart of the cities, yet he is so much wilder and fiercer in his disposition than the animals of the mountain and forest, that whereas you can sometimes tame and alter the character of lions and leopards by flattering them, this one is only roused to greater cruelty than before by those who stroke him, so that he rends and devours all alike. And again there is no animal anyhow of which you can say that it ever devours its own mother, but Nero is gorged with such quarry.

Modern skepticism in regard to the picture of Nero as a “sexual werewolf” is perhaps justified, even though Bradley, commentary, 164, seems to be going too far when he sees in it a reference to the Mythraic initiation rites. However, those who circulated the story in the first place must have known that the masses would be happily prone to believe it, and our sources must have suspected the same about their readership. The moral ambivalence of incest in myth is a well-known anthropological fact; cf. interesting observations on incest as an aspect of power image in Antiquity in Averintsev (1972). Among numerous ancient references to Nero’s sexual exploits, see especially Suetonius on his petulantia (Nero, 26–7), libido (18–19), and crudelitas (33–9).

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The literature on the Great Fire is vast; essential references are found in Koestermann, 4, 234ff.; also in CAH and in Nero’s major biographies: Henderson (1903:277ff., 481ff.); Warmington (1969:123ff.); Griffin (1984: 128f., 166); cf. Yavetz (1969:126). Most of our sources (Suet. Nero, 38; Dio, 62, 16; Plin. NH, 17, 1, 5; Oct. Praet., 831f.) are positive on Nero’s guilt; only Tacitus (Ann., 15, 38) speaks of it as uncertain; cf. Scheda (1967). Wiedemann (1989b) suggests that Nero was blamed for the fire in his capacity as pater patriae. For a summary of modern arguments against Nero’s incendiarism, see Bradley, commentary, 226ff. The fire must have started accidentally. A few dissenting voices among modern scholars, like Hermann (1949:633ff.), and Bishop (1964: 79ff.), who believe, in agreement with Nero himself, that the Christians were actually guilty of setting the conflagration, must be disregarded—along with the entirely unsubstantiated view of De Franco (1946) that the fire was the work of the Pisonian conspirators. On Nero’s relief measures and his program of the rebuilding of Rome, see, in particular, Griffin (1984). The rendering of Tacitus’ chapter on Nero’s persecution of the Christians (Ann., 15, 44) into English presents considerable difficulties; I use, with slight alterations, the translation found in Keresztes (1979). The framework of the present book does not allow any meaningful treatment of the Neronian Christians—it is a theme of my separate project. The literature on this subject is immense: Keresztes (1979) offers a bibliography and a helpful review of the extant opinions. Paul’s commandment to obey earthly authorities cannot, in my view, be interpreted as moral justification of tyrannical rulers of Nero’s ilk. It offers a theological framework pertinent to the function of secular power and is not relevant to the matter of moral judgment on the character of those who wield it. Paul’s recognition of political reality as a transient phenomenon helps to explain his eventual acceptance of it. That he must have conceived of himself, within the limits imposed by the spirit of faith, as a loyal citizen is manifest from his willingness to exercise his civil rights (Acts, 16, 37ff.; 22, 25ff.). On Nero’s pillage of Greece, see Plin. NH, 34, 84; Dio Chrys., 31, 148f.; Paus., 5, 25, 8; 26, 3, 10; 7, 1, 19; Plut. Praec. ger. rei publ., 815D; cf. also Koestermann, 4, 244f., 260f. Plin., loc. cit., offers a long list of the Greek statues plundered by Nero. Bradley, commentary, 189f., makes an attempt, which I find unconvincing, to find extenuating circumstances for Nero’s rapacity in the financial condition of the Empire. Regarding the elder Carinas Secundus, who died in exile in Athens (Juv., 7, 204ff., cum scholiis), cf. the parallel case of the Rhetor Maternus, executed by Domitian for a similar offense—praising tyrannicide in a rhetorical exercise (Dio, 67, 12, 5). Furneaux, 2, 378, believes that until his final withdrawal from politics in AD 64 Seneca continued his formal membership in the consilium principis. Despite the public’s occasional reservations about him, Seneca’s popularity must have endured till his very death, as follows from the rumor that the praetorian conspirators preferred his candidacy to Piso’s (Tac. Ann., 15, 65). Dio (62, 25, 3) writes that Seneca offered Nero his property, “ostensibly to help to pay for the buildings he was constructing.” If this report is true and refers to the aftermath of the fire, it could well have been a

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discreet but telling gesture on Seneca’s part to contrast a true humanitarianism with Nero’s pillage of Greece under the pretext of financing the capital’s rebuilding program. See Koestermann, 4, 261ff., on Fabius Rusticus as a possible source for the story of Nero’s attempt to poison Seneca via Cleonicus. On the Pisonian conspiracy, see Schiller (1872:183ff.); Henderson (1903: 255– 74); Warmington (1969:136–41); Griffin (1984:166ff.); Syme (1958: 574ff.); De la Ville Mirmont (1913 and 1914); Ciaceri (1918:362–434); Zoli (1972:329–38); Bauman (1974:146ff.); also Furneaux, 2, and Koestermann, 4, ad locos. If the reading ardente domo in Ann., 15, 50, is correct, it means that the conspiracy was already ripe by the time of the Great Fire. Ann., 15, 73, mentions a sort of “White Book” on the conspiracy published by the government. On the information Tacitus received from the exiles who returned to the capital upon Nero’s death, cf., in particular, Syme (1958:300, 407). That the oral tradition about the Pisonian conspiracy was confused is testified by Plutarch’s (De garr., 505D) mention of a version of its exposure entirely different from Tacitus’; according to this version, the plot failed owing to a casual remark by one of the members to a friend, who immediately reported it to Nero, that there would soon be no need to fear him anymore. As for Tacitus’ literary sources, it is presumed that they were largely Pliny the Elder and Fabius Rusticus. On the entire tangled issue of the Quellenforschung for his account of the Pisonian plot, see Questa (1967:199ff.), and Syme (1958:290, 300f). On the aftermath of Caligula’s assassination, see, especially, MacMullen (1966:29ff.). Valerius Asiaticus is said to have publicly announced that he would have liked to murder Caligula with his own hands (Jos., Ant. Jud., 19, 159). Cons. AD 46, he was executed the following year for an alleged conspiracy against Claudius. On him, see Dorey (1966); Syme (1958: 414ff.); Levick (1990:31f., 62ff., 118f.). Annius Vinicianus later became a major instigator of the Camillus Scribonianus rebellion of AD 42. On C.Calpurnius Piso, see RE s.v.; Syme (1958:314, 574f., 1986:278ff., 378ff.); cf. Koestermann, 4, 265ff. Piso cannot be counted a “dynastic dissident”: Wiedemann’s (1989b:60) conjecture that he may have been related to Julius Caesar’s wife Calpurnia remains a speculation. The only piece of information we possess on Piso’s mother (whose name is unknown) concerns a fortune he inherited from her (Schol. ad Juv., 5, 105); on our lack of knowledge about his parentage, cf. Syme (1986:378). The Calpurnii Pisones were particularly influential under Tiberius—note Piso the Augur, Piso the Pontifex, and Gn. Calpurnius Piso, the enemy of Germanicus. The question of the authorship of the Laus Pisonis, as well as that of whether we can attribute it to Calpurnius Siculus, must remain undecided; cf. an interesting argument in De la Ville Mirmont (1914:198ff.). I find no reason to dispute the widely accepted view that the Neronian conspirator, the subject of the Laus, and Juvenal’s (5, 109) Piso bonus were one and the same person. On Piso as a possible patron of Calpurnius Siculus, see Schmid (1953); cf. De la Ville Mirmont (1914: 203ff.). Seneca as Calpurnius Siculus’ patron seems to me implausible: the philosopher strongly disliked Maecenas and would not have been pleased by the implied comparison with him of the poet’s patron in Ecl., 4, 161ff. On the need of

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legitimation regarding any non-Julio-Claudian emperor, note Vespasian’s concern with a special lex de imperio. On Pompey’s descendants under the Empire, see the very informative essay of Grenade (1950:28–63); cf. also McAlindon (1956). There is an impressive list of conspirators against the principate of Pompeian descent and affiliation (or who were accused of such a conspiracy): Cn. Cornelius Cinna Magnus under Augustus; M.Scribonius Libo Drusus under Tiberius; M.Aemilius Lepidus under Caligula; M.Arruntius Camillus Scribonianus under Claudius. Cn. Pompeius Magnus, betrothed to the younger Antonia and later executed by Claudius (on this, cf. Levick (1990:58f., 118f., 142f.)), and Faustus Cornelius Sulla, the same lady’s husband, killed by Nero (above, chapter 2, pp. 67f.), were also of Pompeian descent. On the Imperial families related to Pompey, cf. Syme (1986: table XIV). See ibid., table XVII, on the reciprocal adoptions between the Pisones and the Licinii Crassi. Pompey is called princeps by Cicero in 44–43 (cf. Pro Balb., 54); also by Seneca, Ad Marc., 20, 4; cf. Manil. Astr., 1, 793f.; also Meyer (1919) on what he calls Prinzipat des Pompeius. See a detailed discussion of Lucan’s dissidence as made manifest in the text of the Bellum Civile (including his “Pompeianism”) in my companion volume to this study, now in preparation. Altogether there are three brief ancient biographies of Lucan: a rather derogatory piece which is ascribed to Suetonius; another, written by a certain Vacca, of much later date (probably fourth century), which is full of admiration and seems a product of diligent research; and a brief anonymous text from Codex Vossianus which is clearly unreliable—it states that the Bellum Civile describes the death of Cato and that Lucan handed his work to Seneca before his death asking for emendations, and it also contains the hardly credible statement that the present opening of the poem is Seneca’s, while Lucan’s original text allegedly began with line 8. Priority should be given, however, to Statius’ Genethliacon Lucani ad Pollam (Silv., 2, 7), which offers accurate literary and biographical information: on this poem, see Buchheit (1960); cf., on the assessment of this material, Rose (1966b:379). On Lucan’s father, Annaeus Mela, see below, chapter 4 (pp. 149ff.); it is probably worth mentioning that the relations between Lucan’s parents seem to have been strained (Suet. Luc., 8f.). Vacca (8f.) emphasizes the distinction and intellectual interests of his maternal grandfather, Acilius Lucanus. Lucan’s attitudes must also have been shaped, at least to some degree, by the influences of Annaeus Cornutus, in whose school he received his primary rhetorical education (Vita Pers.): on Cornutus and his vicissitudes, cf. below, chapter 5 (p. 151). Lucan’s early friendship with Persius (who was, in his turn, close to Thrasea Paetus) is also suggestive; in the Bellum Civile Lucan’s ardent pro-senatorial sympathies are abundantly manifest. Of the modern treatments of his chronology and career, note Rose (1966b); cf. also Ahl (1976:35ff.); Griffin (1984:157f. and footnotes). Lucan was added to Nero’s cohors amicorum probably in AD 59 after he was recalled from Athens to take a place in a literary coterie (Crook (1955:25)). Ahl (1976:37) rightly regards Lucan’s cursus as a remarkable achievement: normally, only members of the Imperial family could anticipate public or religious offices before the age of twenty-five. Vacca, describing the rest of his work (besides Bellum Civile) as non fastidiendi quidem omnes (61), mentions, in addition to Laudes Neronis and Orpheus: in

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verse, Iliacon, Saturnalia, Catachtonian, Silvae in ten books, Salticae Fabulae (Rose (1966b:392) reads Satyricae Fabulae and relates them to Petronius’ novel), and Epigrammata; in prose, orations for and against Octavius Sagitta, Epistolae ex Campania, and De Incendio Urbis; also the unfinished tragedy Medea. Statius adds Adlocutio ad Pollam, and Suetonius, a carmen famosum—a scurrilous attack on Nero and his friends. On Lucan’s attitudes to history as manifest in the Bellum Civile, cf., e.g., Lounsbury (1976). Brisset (1964) sees him as a “constitutionalist”; Ahl (1976: esp. 54ff.) as an ardent republicanist who entered the Pisonian conspiracy for “ideological” reasons. In fact, these and similar modern arguments on Lucan’s politics largely invalidate each other, which is an indication that the poet’s own mind on the subject was confused. As for his vocabulary, it is predictably polysemantic: thus, his use of libertas referring to the res publica vetus also pertains, on occasion, to the rule of law (Kopp (1969: 139ff.)) and in no way excludes the meaning of inner virtue, independence of mind. Cf., on the political aspects of Lucan’s epic, especially Marti (1945) and Pfligersdorfer (1959). Note Ahl’s (1976:54f.) observation that “the difference between Lucan’s attitude toward the Caesars in the earlier books and in the later books is one of degree rather than in kind.” On Lucan’s quarrel with Nero, cf. Plinval (1956); Gresseth (1957). Dio (62, 29, 4) dates it to AD 65, but his chronology often errs—cf. Griffin (1984:157). I find it not unlikely that the verses causing Nero’s immediate anger were Cato’s monologue from the second book of the Bellum Civile (2, 251ff.), containing a passionate argument for direct intervention and fight against tyranny, seen as the supreme political evil. On the other hand, either De Incendio Urbis or the carmen famosum against the emperor and his friends (Suet. Luc., 14), or both, might have precipitated the break—cf. Ahl (1976:349ff.) who, however, believes (in my view unconvincingly) them to have been one and the same composition. But the carmen famosum could not have been recited to the senatorial audience; nor does it seem likely that the De Incendio Urbis could, since Nero was capable of reading a deliberate offense in the very choice of subject-matter. Bauman’s (1974:147) suggestion of lex Cornelia de iniuriis as possible legal grounds for Nero’s ban seems to me superfluous. Upon their break, Lucan is reported to have quoted a line from Nero, frightening other customers, in a public latrine (Suet. Luc., 14). Getty (1940:xviiiff.) finds the story of Lucan’s denunciation of his mother questionable and attributes it to rumors manufactured by Nero after the poet’s death. A calculated modern guess (Furneaux, 2, 406) is that the passage sung by Lucan on his deathbed could have been Bell. Civ., 3, 635–45. On Plautius Lateranus, see Henderson (1903:267, 272, 274); Warmington (1969: 136–40); Griffin (1984:64f., 166, 194); Syme (1958:348, 548, 575, 610); cf. Koestermann, 4, 268. On the stemma of the Plautii, see Taylor (1956); cf. Syme (1986:394, 430). Plautius Lateranus’ courage is manifest by his dignified reply, preserved by Epictetus (1, 1, 19), to Nero’s powerful freedman Epaphroditus: Lateranus, when Nero commanded him to be beheaded,…though he shrank a little after receiving a weak blow, stretched out his neck again.

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And before this, when Epaphroditus, the freedman of Nero, interrogated him about the conspiracy, “If I say anything,” replied he, “I will tell it to your master.”

Epictetus is a reliable authority on this particular episode, since he was at the time Epaphroditus’ slave. However, Plautius Lateranus’ heroism is no proof of his republicanism; praetorian officers like Subrius Flavus and Sulpicius Asper, convinced monarchists, behaved no less courageously. On the other hand, one could argue that, in terms of mos maiorum, his betrayal of Nero was itself questionable: an authoritative view held that beneficia must be respected and returned to a benefactor, even if the latter is a monster (Sen. De Ben., 7, 19ff.). On libertas as a rule of law, see Wirszubski (1950:146ff.). On the tyrannicide tradition, see, in particular, MacMullen (1966: chapter 1). On Epicharis, see Zoli (1972); also Koestermann, 4, 273f. I owe much of my treatment of her to Gordon Williams. Tacitus’ phrase about Epicharis’ entrance into the conspiracy is vague and rather baffling: “How one Epicharis learned of it is unknown, …but she started to incite and urge the conspirators” (Ann., 15, 51); cf. Furneaux, 2, 384f. Usually, Tacitus is good in supplying relevant details for the events he writes about—cf. Syme (1958:378f.). It seems fair to assume that when he fails to do so, the reasons are political, or personal, or both. Dio, on the other hand, writes unequivocally: “She had been included in the conspiracy and all its details had been entrusted to her without reserve” (62, 27, 3). Annaeus Mela’s estrangement from his wife is alluded to in Suet. Luc.; cf., however, MacMullen’s (1966:311) legitimate doubts about the reliability of so late a source as Polyaenus on Epicharis having been Annaeus Mela’s mistress. Lucan, on the other hand, could easily have been recruited through her services. As regards the navarch Volusius Proculus, his involvement in the plot would have provided an opportunity for killing Nero during one of the sea excursions he enjoyed taking (Tac. Ann., 15, 51). Tacitus makes Volusius Proculus disclose to Epicharis in person his resentment and even his desire to settle the account with Nero (ibid.); cf. Koestermann, 4, 274. There remains a possibility, though slight, that he was an agent provocateur. On Antonia, Claudius’ daughter, see Bradley (1977). On Tacitus’ tendency to distance himself from the elder Pliny’s historical work, which he considered untrustworthy, see Koestermann, 4, 280. For the story of the Pisonian plot’s exposure, cf. Koestermann, 4, 282, in particular, regarding the fides between the freedmen and their masters. On the dating, see Bradley, commentary, 129. On Epicharis’ end, see especially Syme (1958:532). Tacitus implies that raw recruits were sent to execute Piso since the veterans were suspected of partiality to the conspirators (Ann., 15, 58), but in my view this is a typical case of Nero’s overreaction. On the question of Seneca’s involvement in the conspiracy and on his death, see Syme (1958:300, 336, 407, 575); Warmington (1969:138); Griffin (1984:72, 154, 168); also, Koestermann, 4, 287f., 296ff., with references. Some modern authorities

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(e.g., Henderson (1903:82f.)) are content to leave the verdict unproven; others (e.g., Bishop (1964:105ff.)) insist on Seneca’s complicity. For his innocence, cf. Griffin (1976:367, and footnotes). On the alleged praetorian debate concerning Seneca’s candidacy for the emperorship, cf. De la Ville Mirmont (1914:302ff.). Koestermann, 4, 309, following Questa (1967), believes that Tacitus’ most likely source on it was the elder Pliny; see ibid., references to other modern opinions. A detailed discussion on Seneca’s views on tyrannicide as well as his defense of philosophy in Epist., 73, will be found in my companion volume to this study, now in preparation. On Seneca’s salutem suam incolumitate Pisonis inniti, see Alexander (1952). This article was written during the McCarthy era, and it ends with a few instructive remarks taking to task those who still believe that the Roman Empire was the rule of law and are less prepared to blame Nero than to attack his victims: All the trouble that has arisen in the comments of editors and scholars on this passage has arisen, in my judgement, from the fact that these comments have been made in happier times than those in which we now live when it is all too easy (or should be) to discern exactly how Seneca got enmeshed in the net of the charge of treason through a piece of what could certainly be defended as a purely conventional politeness; further, because these comments have been made by persons who grew up and lived out their lives without ever being involved in a social and political setting electrically charged with hate and suspicion attending on every word and act of those dwelling and functioning in high places…. In other words, a good editor of a classical text must be able, imaginatively at least, to live in the circumstances resembling that prevailing in his author’s day, he may be and generally should be, greatly assisted by that fact. (ibid., 5) cf. Furneaux, 2, 397. On Tacitus’ sequence portraying Seneca’s death, see Henderson (1903:283ff.); Griffin (1976:367ff.); and particularly Koestermann, 4, 296ff. (with references); cf. also Tadic-Guiloteaux (1963); I also owe some observations to a written communication by Thomas Cole and an unpublished essay by Norma Quesada. On the posture of the Stoic sapiens, see Williams (1978:113). Cf., e.g., De Prov., 2, 9, where Seneca asserts that a spectacle worthy of God’s eyes is a good man confronting ill-fortune. Dio’s version of Seneca’s last hours is somewhat different from Tacitus’, although less plausible since it assumes a measure of time Seneca obviously lacked: “He did not lay hands upon himself, however, until he had revised the book which he was writing and had deposited his other books with some friends, fearing that they would otherwise fall into Nero’s hands and be destroyed” (62, 25); cf. Bauman (1974), against the possibility of a book-burning decree against Seneca. Note Furneaux, 2, 399, on the conjecture that being convinced of the impending confiscation of Seneca’s estate the presiding officer feared to compromise himself by

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allowing the condemned man to assert any right of testamentary disposition. The physician Statius Annaeus is likely to have been a freedman of the Annaei. On the ritual invocation of Jupiter the Liberator before death, see Williams (1978:144ff.). On Pompeia Paullina and her failed attempt at suicide, cf. Koestermann, 4, 303ff. (and references). On the authenticity of Subrius Flavus’ remark, see Marx (1937:93); cf. Koestermann, 4, 312f. On Faenius Rufus, see Henderson (1903:261, 267ff.); Warmington (1969:137ff.); Griffin (1984:69, 79, 81, 106, 167ff.). On the patronage for great equestrian prefectures, see Saller (1982:49). Faenius Rufus’ association with Burrus and Seneca might even go as far back as his appointment to the praefectura annonae: it was during the inquiry into Iunia Silana’s denunciation of Agrippina that Burrus, certainly, and Seneca, possibly, for whatever reason took Agrippina’s side. Baldwin’s (1974:74) claim of Tacitus’ inconsistency in his portrayal of Faenius Rufus betrays a lack of insight and sympathy: cf. Syme (1958:545) on Tacitus’ interest in “mixed characters or variegated careers.” On the factuality of the episode describing Subrius Flavus’ intent, prohibited by Faenius Rufus, conscius et inquisitor (Tac. Ann., 15, 66) to kill Nero in the midst of the investigation, cf. Koestermann, 4, 292ff. Tacitus carefully distinguished, as a rule, what he believed to be fact and more dubious matters with the help of the words traditur, ferebatur, etc. As regards Gavius Silvanus, an interesting inscription (CIL, 2, 7003) from Turin seems to testify to his antecedents and achievements, including distinctions and decorations received from Claudius in the British campaign; cf. Furneaux, 2, 383f. As regards Statius Proxumus, the meaning of Tacitus’ comment (Ann., 15, 71) on his suicide shortly following his pardon—“he corrupted the pardon he received by the vanity of his end”—is not fully clear; cf. Furneaux, 2, 409. Suetonius’ mention (Nero, 36) of the “triple fetters” placed on the conspirators is followed with a paraphrase of Sulpicius Asper’s remark, so it seems that the whole sentence refers to the praetorian participants of the plot—see Bradley, commentary, 221; cf. Furneaux’s, 2, 182, surmise that the appearance of prisoners on trial in chains was unusual. On Vestinus Atticus, see Henderson (1903:267, 272, 274); Warmington (1969: 136–40, 146); Griffin (1984:98, 167f., 194, 220 n. 62); Syme (1958:348, 548, 575, 610); Koestermann, 4, 316f.; on him as Nero’s amicus see Crook (1955:47). Bradley’s (commentary, 208f.) attempt to discover legitimate political motives for Vestinus Atticus’ destruction seems to me unconvincing, nor do I see any evidence for Talbert’s (1984:470) belief that he was tried intra cubiculum, cf. Bauman (1974:147) on Nero’s exercise of force against him (Bauman calls it ius domitionis) and on the legal aspects of verbal injury. Quintilian (6, 3, 64) preserves Vestinus Atticus’ characteristic (and nasty) witticism that suggests something of his temperament as manifested in his relations with both Nero and his senatorial colleagues: dixit M.Vestinus, cum ei nuntiatum esset… necatum esse, aliquando desinet putere (6, 3, 64). Bradley, commentary, 209, suggests July 1 as the terminus post quem for Vestinus Atticus’ death, on the grounds that this was the date for the suffecti of 65 to start their term of office; see, however, Griffin’s (1984:194 and footnote) correct dating of it to April since

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Tacitus reports his death before Lucan’s (who, according to Vacca, perished on April 30). His damnatio memoriae is evident from CIL, 11, 1331. Iulius Vestinus actually survived his son, the consul Vestinus Atticus, and was commissioned by Vespasian to supervise the rebuilding of the Capitol after the Flavian victory in the civil war (Tac. Ann., 4, 53). For a list of mentions of Vestinus Atticus in Greek inscriptions and papyri, see PIR 2s.v. On Statilia Messallina, cf. Fabia (1895); also below, chapters 4 and 5 (pp. 137, 230). The names of her husbands preceding Vestinus Atticus are not known (cf. Schol. ad Juv., 6, 434, where it is also said that she lived a long life and was famous for her wealth and influence). Tacitus’ text (Ann., 15, 58) implies that Statilia Messallina’s liaison with Nero started before her marriage to Vestinus Atticus, when Poppaea Sabina was still alive. Furthermore, Tacitus’ sequence of events makes it clear (contra Bradley, commentary, 209) that Vestinus Atticus’ execution preceded Poppaea Sabina’s death—cf. Griffin (1984:194). Suetonius (Nero 35) may—or may not—mean that Nero killed Vestinus Atticus with the purpose of marrying Statilia Messallina. But the clause he uses, qua ut poteretur, does not, to my mind, necessarily indicate an intention of marriage; in this context it may merely refer to Nero’s desire to possess his mistress fully, without sharing her with a man whom he detested. Bradley’s (commentary, loc. cit.) discussion of Nero’s intent is based on a misunderstanding. Suetonius’ chronology, which he accepts over Tacitus’, is wrong: Nero could have had no matrimonial plans while Poppaea Sabina lived. On the other hand, as Poppaea Sabina’s own earlier career demonstrates, Nero was perfectly capable of openly displaying a high-born amica side by side with a legitimate spouse. Obviously, in such a juncture, the amica’s spouse, in this case Vestinus Atticus, would have been an obstacle and a nuisance: jealousy combined with animosity made Nero anxious to remove a rival—even Otho, whom he genuinely loved, was eventually made to disappear from the scene. Regarding the location of Vestinus Atticus’ “fortress,” note the curious affair of Salvidienus Orfitus, charged with leasing his house in the Forum for subversive purposes, which is reported by Dio under AD 65 but must have taken place later (see below, chapter 5, p. 199); Tacitus does not mention the incident in his account, and Dio’s chronology is often at fault. Talbert (1984:271) points out that Nero’s only attendance of the Senate which was definitely recorded took place upon the suppression of the Pisonian plot. On the precedents of the emperors delivering explanatory speeches in the Senate and regarding Nero’s “White Book” on the Pisonian conspiracy, see Koestermann, 4, 328. For the possible use of the maiestas charges in the suppression of the Pisonians, see Bauman (1974:152). On Tacitus’ sources, written and oral, for his catalogue of victims, see Syme (1958:296). Suetonius (Nero, 36) reports that the children of the condemned were expelled from the city or murdered by poison and starvation; it is known that a number of them were killed together with their tutors and attendants at a single meal, while others were prohibited from earning their daily food.

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However, owing to the topical structure of Suetonius’ narrative, it remains unclear whether this story pertained to the Pisonians or to the late plot, coniuratio Viniciana of AD 66 (below, chapter 5, pp. 195f.); cf. Bradley, commentary, 222. Flavius Scaevinus’ wife, Caedicia, was possibly rehabilitated after Nero’s death. Lucan’s wife, Argentaria Polla, who may have assisted her husband in his literary work (cf. Sidon. Apol. Epist., 2, 10, 6), is said to have worshipped his golden statue in her bedroom (Stat. Silv., 2, 7, 21); on her (probable) later marriage to another, unnamed, poet, see Sidon. Apol. Carm., 23, 265f. In connection with Lucan’s mother, Acilia, note Tacitus’ interesting use of the word dissimulata which seems to imply, even here, the notion of pretense—“it was pretended that she is neither acquitted nor condemned” (cf., however, Furneaux, 2, 410). This phrasing caused Lejay (1894: xii) to doubt the veracity of the rumors about Lucan’s denunciation of her. Glitius Gallus (of his cursus we know only that he was a military tribune—CIL, 11, 3097) is likely to have been a son of P.Glitius Gallus from Comum (CIL, 5, 5345), the first husband of Vistilia, Domitia Corbulo’s mother—Griffin (1984:179); his estate, seized by Nero, was restored to him under Otho (Plut. Otho, 1; cf. Tac. Hist., 1, 90). For speculations on Annius Pollio’s genealogy, cf. Furneaux, 2, 393; also, Koestermann, 4, 288, 323. On Tacitus’ possible acquaintance with the families of Glitius Gallus and Annius Pollio, see Koestermann, ibid.; also Syme (1958: 560 and 1970). Of Seneca’s banished friends it is suggested (in PIR 2 s.v.) that Nonius Priscus may have been identical with the consul ordinarius of AD 78 (CIL, 6, 1, 2056). It seems also that Caesennius Maximus was a suffect consul sometime prior to his exile (cf. Koestermann, 4, 324f.). From Mart., 7, 45, 3, it follows that a collection of Seneca’s letters to Caesennius Maximus— maybe similar to Epistulae ad Lucilium—must have been available to Martial. On the failed prosecution of Iunius Gallio, see Bauman (1974:152); Koestermann, 4, 329f.; cf. Talbert (1984:271). In regard to Verginius Flavus, the repressive measure could also reflect a view shared by Tacitus (in Dialogus) of eloquentia as a republicanist pursuit; Tacitus’ emphasis, however, is on oratory in courts, not on school rhetoric, which was Verginius Flavus’ profession. On Musonius Rufus under Nero, see Korver (1950); cf. Koestermann, 4, 142 f.; much valuable information on him may be found in Lutz (1947). On Musonius Rufus’ parresia, cf. an anecdote (Themist., 34, 15) about his quixotic attempts to dissuade Nero from performing music—Lutz (1947:22 and footnote); also Korver (1950: 320). On the characteristic lack of dissimulatio in the behavior of the Greek philosophers, see below, chapter 5 (pp. 189f.). Philostratus (Vita Apol., 4, 35f.) claims that Musonius Rufus was in jail during Apollonius’ visit to Rome, presumably in AD 62, and barely survived the imprisonment; he even supplies fragments (evidently fictitious) of their clandestine correspondence. Although Philostratus’ chronology is notoriously mangled, there exists the bare possibility of Musonius Rufus’ temporary incarceration, on account of his friendship with Rubellius Plautus, that very year upon his return from Asia when he witnessed his friend’s death. (The tradition about Nero’s harassment of Musonius Rufus was so strong that it made Suidas, 1305, even report that he was put to death.) Philostratus cannot be considered

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a reliable historical source—on his confused treatment of Musonius Rufus, see Lutz (1947:21, footnotes); also Korver (1950:32). Some of his errors, however, may be ascribed to a copyist (thus Musonius Rufus’ bizarre designation Babylonios (Vita Apol., 4, 35) may be a corruption of Boulsinios). Dio (62, 27) connects Musonius Rufus’ exile directly with his involvement in the conspiracy; his facts, however, are often misstated—cf. Korver (1950: 319). Philostratus (Vita Apol., 7, 16) dates Musonius Rufus’ exile to Gyara a year later than Tacitus, but again this is due to a chronological error. (On relegation to Gyara as the ultimate punishment, cf. Epict., 1, 25, 19ff.) Philostratus also reports that when exiled to Gyara, Musonius Rufus was honored by continuous pilgrimages of admirers and disciples (7, 16)—probably an authentic touch —and then at some point sentenced to forced labor at the Isthmus. The historicity of this last is denied by many scholars—cf. Lutz (1947:23 and footnote)—on the grounds of the improbable accumulation of punishments. However, Philostratus’ sequence is not wholly impossible: even Musonius Rufus’ brief imprisonment in Rome can be placed immediately after the exposure of the Pisonian conspiracy (juridically, it would have been a proper measure for a period of investigation); his exile to Gyara followed; the influx of pilgrims arriving to see him could have angered the authorities and caused them to transfer him to forced labor at the Isthmus—we do know from Suet. Nero, 31, that Nero did use prisoners in his building programs (cf. below, chapter 4, pp. 132f.). The story of Musonius Rufus at the Isthmus must have been well entrenched in literary memory: in addition to Philostratus, it provides the background and much of the contents for the Pseudo-Lucianic dialog Nero (dramatic action AD 68), where Musonius Rufus is one of the interlocutors. Even if this work was written by a member of the Philostrati family (cf., e.g., Anderson (1986:272)), this does not invalidate an assumption that the story must have been popularly wellknown. For the historicity of the episode, cf. also Korver (1950). Musonius Rufus’ pupils numbered, in addition to Epictetus and Dio Chrysostom, his son-in-law Artemidorus, C.Minicius Fundanus, the friend of the young Pliny, Athenodotus, Timocrates of Heracleia, and Euphrates of Tyre—Lutz (1947:19). On the apocrypha and anecdotes about Musonius Rufus, cf. ibid., 5 and footnote. The collection of Musonius Rufus’ discourses and fragments is conveniently edited, translated, and discussed by Lutz (1947). Its origins were not unlike Arrian’s collection of Epictetus. The original compiler of twenty-four essays found in Stobaeus was Musonius Rufus’ pupil, a certain Lucius, who also seems to have suffered during his teacher’s banishment under Nero—cf. Lutz (1947:7f). There must have existed a second collection, more rigorous in tone, from which some of the extant fragments were derived, by one Pollio—probably the grammarian Valerius Pollio living under Hadrian. A hypothesis that it was Annius Pollio, the exiled Pisonian conspirator (ibid., 10f.), with whose family Musonius Rufus was friendly, is attractive but, unfortunately, unprovable; cf. MacMullen (1966:76). Dio (62, 29) reports under the same year AD 65 the exile of the Stoic teacher and rhetorician Annaeus Cornutus; this, however, is not mentioned by Tacitus where one would expect it, see below, chapter 4 (p. 151). Dio’s chronology (even more that of his epitomators) is

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notoriously unreliable. On the disgraced members of the praetorian guard, see Koestermann, 4, 322. Suetonius (Nero, 15) emphasizes the irregularity of Nero’s bestowing ornamenta triumphalia on the equestrians (cf. Dio, 62, 27, 4) to which Tigellinus, as praefectus praetorio, belonged—cf. Koestermann, 4, 325f. On Nerva’s earlier career, see Syme (1958:2f.); Ehrhardt (1978). Tacitus’ report of Nerva’s triumphal decorations is corroborated by an inscription (CIL, 11, 5743) dated before his accession to the emperorship; cf. Eck (1976:383). I find implausible Baldwin’s (1987) idea that Nerva was awarded triumphal insignia and a pair of statues—exactly like Tigellinus, who uncovered the plot—for congratulating Nero in verse or writing a speech for him. There is no reason to assume, as Baldwin does, that Nerva’s statue was placed in the palace’s library; and Syme’s (1958: 577) reference to Fronto (117, 6) on Nerva’s oratorial incompetence stands, despite Baldwin’s objections. Another suggestion, that Nerva was honored on the grounds of his having been a prominent member of the consilium principis (Schiller apud Furneaux, 2, 411), seems also unconvincing: first, because we do not hear from any other source about his membership in Nero’s habitual retinue of amici et comites; second, on the grounds of his age and status as only a junior senator. Nor do I find persuasive other attempts to exculpate Nerva’s part in the exposure of the Pisonians—e.g., Syme (1958:629); or Paribeni (1926:124). On the possible corruption of Tacitus’ text, note, however, Furneaux, 2, loc. cit. If the possibility of Nerva acting as agent provocateur is considered, one wonders whether it is too far-fetched to imagine that Nerva was in fact the mysterious patron of Epicharis (which would explain why Tacitus concealed her patron’s identity) and used her, without her knowledge, as a blind instrument in order to expose the plotters. In the person of Yuri Andropov we in fact recently witnessed a former secret policeman elevated, late in life, to the head of state. Mart., 8, 70, curiously suggests that under Domitian the opportunistic Nerva found it propitious to publicize his role at Nero’s literary court, and the opportunistic Martial was prepared to admire him for this. Epaphroditus’ honors consisted of a hasta pura and corona aurea. Eck (1976:382f.), makes an argument that in addition to Nerva another quaestorius, L.Nonius Calpurnius Aspernas (later proconsul of Achaia and legate of Galatia, Paphlagonia, Pamphilia, and Pisidia), received for some similar service, and more appropriately for his rank, similar dona militaria, listed in the inscription from Leptis Magna (AE, 1952, 232). Scheid (1975:273), on the basis of circumstantial evidence reflected in the Arval Brothers documents, suggests that an obscure Q.Postumius proved his loyalty to Nero during the Pisonian crisis and was awarded with membership in that priesthood—cf. Syme (1980:117). Milichus’ honorary name conservator, “preserver,” must be the Greek soter—Furneaux, 2, 408; cf. also the titles conditor, traditionally bestowed upon Camillus and Marius, and liberator, upon Brutus and Cassius. Cf. Syme (1980:116f.) on Nero’s debasement of official decorations, titles, and awards. Koestermann, 4, 330, ascribes to Tacitus solely literary reasons for ending this book as he does: “Um am Ende des Buches den jähen Kontrast zwischen dem Triumph Neros, der in diesem Augenblick Gegenstand einer sich über-schlagenden adulatio ist,

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und seinem kläglichen Ende als hostis rei publicae drastisch zu veranschaulichen.” Although not entirely disregarding this line of argument, I find the proposed motives of lesser importance—after all, Nero’s downfall happened three years later, and the period in between would have taken more than one book of the Annales’ narrative in which the historian must have described such peaks of Nero’s reign as the ceremony of homage paid to him by the Armenian King Tiridates and his “triumphal” artistic tour in Greece. All this would have much lessened, if not nullified, the effect of intentional literary contrast assumed by Koestermann. Anicius Cerealis’ rejected sententia must have been recorded in the Senate’s acts (Talbert (1984:313). I read Tacitus’ passage (Ann., 15, 74) on Nero’s prohibition of his apotheosis accepting (cf. Furneaux, 2, 415) Halm’s emendation sed ipse prohibit ne interpretatione, etc., which, of course, relates to any manifest aspect of Imperial apotheosis, if only as a matter of rhetoric, imagery, or symbol. On the apotropaic aspect of the Imperial cult, cf. the cases of Clutorius Priscus, executed for his lament on the expected death of the younger Drusus (Tac. Ann., 3, 49ff.), or of the two characters who were compelled by Caligula to give up their lives in fulfillment of the vow they made during his illness in expectation of award (Dio, 59, 8); other historical and literary parallels are listed by Koestermann, 4, 332f. and 409, among them Tac. Hist. 1, 86, 3, and Tert. Apol., 34. On the possible legal aspect, related to maiestas, of Nero’s veto, see Bauman (1974:152). 4 THE YEARS OF DECIMATION: I On Queen Dido’s fictitious treasure-trove, see Braund (1983). Tacitus seems to distrust the alternative version of Caesellius Bassus’ madness (cf. Furneaux, 2, 432), and it is hardly possible to test the plausibility of this part of the story. I find Bradley’s (commentary, 183) skepticism in regard to the nature and consequences of the episode unfounded; cf. Griffin (1984:169), and Koestermann, 4, 335ff. Our authorities tend to blame Nero’s personal prodigality for the deterioration of public finances (cf. Tac. Ann., 16, 3), showing little interest in objective factors. In any event, the scope of this study does not allow meaningful discussion of the financial crisis at the end of Nero’s reign and its role in his downfall. On the merit of the Avernus-Ostia project and its dating, see Bradley, commentary, 183, and (1978b: 181f.); cf. Griffin (1984:130ff). On forced labor (opus) as a legal sentence, cf. Crook (1967:273): “Another creation of the Principate was condemnation to labor—public works or the mines or the gladiatorial troops” (I owe this reference to Diana Moses); Crook says (ibid., 334 n. 128) that it is first attested in Plin. Epist., 10, 31, 2; 58, 3; but the Neronian precedent seems the earliest and must not be ignored, and if we accept (see above, p. 292) that the dissident philosopher Musonius Rufus also served a term of forced labor at the Isthmus, it was a Gulag in the full sense of the word, and its convicts included political prisoners. For Nero’s avaritia and his policy of confiscations, cf. a critical review in Bradley, commentary, 185ff. However, from the

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fact that the extant evidence does not fully support the negative generalizations of our authorities about Nero it does not follow eo ipso that such generalizations are necessarily wrong; cf. in particular, Millar (1977:168ff.); also Koestermann, 4, 339. No plausible identification, owing to the lack of evidence, can be made of the six African landowners executed by Nero—cf. Griffin (1984:187); this does not warrant, however, Bradley’s (commentary, 185f.) skepticism in regard to the value of the elder Pliny’s statement (NH, 37, 19) as regards Nero’s arbitrary confiscation of property belonging to the children of an ignotus ex-consul, cf. Millar (1977:168). See Tac. Ann., 14, 31; 16, 11, 19; Dio, 63, 11, 2 (cf. Petr. Sat., 76), for examples of Nero’s inclusion, often forced, among the legatees in order to secure the validity of other bequests; cf. Griffin (1984:169). Roger’s (1947) treatment of this problem suffers from a pro-Neronian bias (cf. Bradley, commentary, 191f.). Following Caligula’s precedent, Nero tried to compel as many people as he could to leave him legacies on the grounds that they were all in the emperor’s debt—cf. Saller (1982: 72). On legacy hunting (cf. Sen. De Ben., 2, 20, 3; 21, 1) see Saller (1982:124f.). Note ibid., 25: “Paradoxically, to hunt legacies was base, yet to receive legacies was an honor.” Bauman’s (1974:138) discussion of the Imperial control of testamentary practices is helpful, but his views on the legal aspect of Suetonius’ (Nero, 32) reference, in the same context, to the delatores is based on the erroneous premise that the maiestas law could be manipulated by the senators tors to mitigate sentences. On the chronology of the Neronia II, see Bradley, commentary, 128ff., 133f. According to his reconstruction, Nero visited Naples and Beneventum in the interval from March to the end of May AD 64; after this the aborted part of the festival quickly followed—“before the appointed [i.e., regular] time,” according to Suetonius (Nero, 21), which seems to have been before summer; then the intended departure to Egypt was cancelled because of the outbreak of the fire; the resumption of the festivities must therefore have taken place with April AD 65 as terminus post quem. Tacitus insists on his transmission of the “exact words” (haec enim verba dixere) with which the plebs greeted Nero: “He should make all his efforts public!” (Ann., 16, 14). Suetonius (Nero, 21), mentioning the popular demands for Nero’s “divine voice,” adds that the praetorian guard supported the entreaties of the people. As regards clandestine police activities, some kind of procedure relating to the agents concerned with the matters of state security may have been implied obscurely in Augustus’ second edict from Cyrene (Mashkin (1938:186)). From Sen. Epist., 83, 15 it may be inferred that under Tiberius the city prefects L.Calpurnius Piso (Pontifex) and Cossus Cornelius Lentulus, whom the emperor trusted, were performing some secret commissions as his agents. According to Tac. Ann., 4, 67, Sejanus surrounded the elder Agrippina and her son Nero with secret agents and agents provocateurs. Titus in his capacity of praetorian prefect under Vespasian would dispose of persons he found suspect by sending agents to the theaters and praetorian camp to demand their punishment (Suet. Div. Tit., 6). Note Juvenal’s brief mention (4, 46f.) of the Imperial inquisitores active along the coast of Italy, and Epictetus’ reference (4, 13, 5) to soldiers disguised as civilians and acting as provocateurs; cf. Tac. Agr., 43.

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On the death of Poppaea Sabina, see Bradley, commentary, 212: “In the parallel passages from Tacitus and Dio it appears that Poppaea’s death may have been the result of an accident; Suetonius, however, presents the material as a deliberate intention on Nero’s part”; cf. Koestermann, 4, 34f. Cambysus (Her., 3, 32) and Periander of Corinth (Diog. Laert., 1, 94) are reported to have kicked their wives to death—Ameling (1986). Coins are known with the legend diva Poppaea Augusta as well as an inscription (CIL, 11, 1331); according to Dio (63, 26, 5), one of Nero’s last public acts was the consecration of a temple to Poppaea Venus (Dio, 63, 26, 3). Against Bradley’s (commentary, 213) dating of the Antonia affair to AD 65, cf. Griffin (1984:194), who places Nero’s wedding to Statilia Messallina at some point before mid-May AD 66, after Tiridates’ visit. Statilia Messallina was descended on both sides from two of Augustus’ known generals—Wiedemann (1989b:61). On the coins of AD 66 with respective portraits of Poppaea Sabina and Statilia Messallina, cf. Bradley, commentary. On L.Iunius Silanus Torquatus, see Henderson (1903:289); Warmington (1969: 140); Griffin (1984:115, 167, 169, 170f., 193); cf. also Syme (1958:559) (although I find his argument connecting Cassius Longinus with the circle of Thrasea Paetus too speculative); cf. Syme (1986: esp. 186ff. and the stemma XII). On Iunia Lepida, cf. an inscription dedicated to her by the priestess of Athena Polias (CIA, 3, 1, 872). The emperor’s personal indictment of a political enemy was a not uncommon, but infrequent, practice—cf. Tiberius’ written denunciation of Sejanus from Capri; cf. Koestermann, 4, 347f. On the status of the tyrannicides’ effigies under the early principate, see, e.g., MacMullen (1966:77, 80, 312ff.). They had not been destroyed by Augustus (cf. Dio, 53, 32 on Brutus’ admirer L.Sestius Quirinus, cons. 23 BC). Under Trajan the distinguished equestrian “loyalist” Cn. Octavius Titinius Capito was allowed to honor them privately (Plin. Epist., 1, 17). He requested, incidentally, Nerva’s permission to erect the statue of Silanus Torquatus in the Forum (ibid., cf. Plin. Paneg., 88, 1f.). He must have dissimulated his republicanist and dissident sentiments under Domitian whom he successfully served as the secretary a patrimonio and ab epistulis; in the latter office he continued under Nerva and Trajan, and was finally appointed praefectus vigilum—on his ornamenta praetoria ex s.c., see Talbert (1984:369). He wrote martyrologies similar to C.Fannius’ Exitus occisorum aut relegatorum a Nerone (Plin. Epist., 5, 5). Each of these works could serve as a source of Tacitus’ description of Silanus Torquatus’ death scene; cf. Syme (1958:92, 298); Koestermann, 4, 350f. On the political aspects of Roman ancestor worship, see MacMullen (1966:7ff.). The same combination of charges (incest plus conspiracy) as against the young Silanus Torquatus had been successfully employed by Agrippina to destroy the young man’s uncle, L.Iunius Silanus, Octavia’s fiancé (see Tac. Ann., 12, 3–4, 8); cf. on the charge of incest under the principate against politically undesirable characters, Koestermann, 4, 348f. As regards the indictment of Iunia Lepida, cf. Syme (1958:537): “Under Claudius and Nero allegations of sorcery figured among the treasonable charges brought against persons of rank”; on her ultimate fate, see Koestermann, 4, 350.

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On Antistius Vetus, see Fine (1932:203ff.); Henderson (1903:289f.); Warmington (1969:141); Griffin (1984:61, 116, 170, 178); Syme (1958: 298, 559ff.); cf. Koestermann, 4, 355f., on Stoic martyrologies as Tacitus’ source for his death scene. An inscription from Chios survived that mentions Antistius Vetus as proconsul of Asia in honorable language (CIG, 2222). It is worth noting that under Nero this office proved dangerous, by accident or design: in addition to Antistius Vetus, two other proconsuls of Asia were put to death—M.Iunius Silanus (above, chapter 1, pp. 14f.) and Barea Soranus. Nero acted against Antistius Vetus on the grounds of Fortunatus’ denunciation in disregard of the principle laid down by jurists that a freedman should not be allowed to bring a criminal charge against his patron (Dig., 48, 2, 8) and was even liable to the punishment inflicted upon a slave for doing so (CIC, 9, 1, 21); cf. Furneaux, 2, 439. On the omission of the emperor’s name from one’s will as a defamatory gesture, see Bauman (1974:156). cf. Talbert (1984:483) on the hearings against Antistius Vetus’ estate despite his early suicide. On the punishment more maiorum, see Suet. Nero, 49. Tacitus names C.Suetonius Paullinus as one of the consuls of AD 66, but since this consulate is not mentioned in the inscriptions as his second, a conjecture has been made that this has to do not with the famed general but with his son (see Koestermann, 4, 360f.); the other consul of that year, C.Luccius Telesinus, suffered under Domitian owing to his philosophical interests, and is portrayed by Philostratus as a dissident rendering friendly services to Apollonius of Tyana (Vita Apol., 8, 7). On P.Anteius Rufus and Ostorius Scapula, see Syme (1958: 559ff.); Griffin (1984:116f., 225). P.Anteius was a suffect consul anno incerto; upon the acquittal of Agrippina from charges of conspiracy with Rubellius Plautus (above, chapter 1, p. 19) he was appointed, under her influence, the governor of Syria, but he was never allowed to depart for his province and, under various pretexts, was kept in Rome (Tac. Ann., 13, 22). Ostorius Scapula fought under his famous father, P.Ostorius Scapula, consul AD 44, who completed, as governor, the conquest of Britain. On Tacitus’ special interest in Britain, see Koestermann, 4, 363; Syme (1958:395, 764f.). On M.Ostorius Scapula Jr, see PIR 2 s.v. Astrologers were expelled from Italy by senatusconsulta of AD 16 and AD 52 (Talbert (1984:383)). I see no reason to identify the astrologer Pammenes, as PIR s.v. does, with the declaimer of the same name (Sen. Rhet. Contr., 1, 4, 7)—the name was common enough. Bradley (1979:155) conjectures that this astrologer and the musician of the same name mentioned by Dio among the members of Nero’s retinue in Greece (63, 8) were the same person. This seems improbable: why would an astrologer become a musician, and why would Nero associate with the denounced counsellor of one of his dissident victims? On charges of astrology as tantamount to treason, see, e.g., Cramer (1954); MacMullen (1966: 137ff.); also Bauman (1974:59ff.), but with no reference to Pammenes’ case. On Tacitus’ own servilis patientia under Domitian, see Koestermann, 4, 365. On Rufrius Crispinus, see Griffin (1984:68, 102, 104, 108, 170). Cf. Ann., 11, 4, 5 (insignia praeturae), and ibid., 16, 17 (consularibus insignibus donatus); if the last statement is not an error, he would have been the first praetorian prefect to be so

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honored—see Koestermann, 4, 368. The existence of his young son from Poppaea Sabina is first mentioned by Tacitus (Ann., 13, 45) under AD 58; cf. Griffin (1984: 102, 106). I find improbable Bradley’s (commentary, 214f.) belief that he was murdered in AD 62, on the grounds of the Octavia Praetexta, 744–7, where the child as well as his father are reported dead. The chronology of the Octavia Praetexta is compressed for dramatic purposes: at the time of its dramatic action (AD 62) the elder Rufrius Crispinus was certainly alive. It is unlikely that the boy could have been killed during Poppaea Sabina’s lifetime. In addition, Tacitus’ extant text does not report his death, thereby suggesting that it happened when he was about eight years old, at some point beyond the extant scope of the Annales—probably later in AD 66, shortly after his father’s suicide. On Annaeus Mela, see Henderson (1903:290f.); Warmington (1969:14); Griffin (1984:70, 78ff., 170ff., 174). Cf. Koestermann, 4, 300f., on Tacitus’ senatorial snobbery regarding him. On the opportunities of enrichment offered by the procuratorship, cf. Syme (1958:448): “A procurator’s opportunities are such that he will prefer not to be a senator,” cf. Talbert (1984:70). In citing Juv., 7, 79, on the fate of Lucan’s estate, Furneaux and Koestermann arrive at diametrically opposite conclusions: “It would appear that his property had not been confiscated” (Furneaux, 2, 449) and “Anscheinend war der Besitz Lucans nach seinem Tod konfisziert worden” (Koestermann, 4, 369). Lipsius’ emendation of a corrupt passage in Euseb.-Jerom Chron., s.a., L.Annaeus Mela frater Senecae et Gallionis ob bona Lucani filii sui perimitur, may, in fact, be applicable in both cases: either to Mela’s inheritance of Lucan’s actual estate (as Bradley, commentary, 187), or to money he attempted, as Tacitus says, to extract from the debtors, thus causing his denunciation for complicity with his son. On Fabius Romanus’ denunciation of Annaeus Mela, cf. De la Ville Mirmont (1914: 314). One may speculate whether this person may be the Romanus who tried to invent the so-called “first Pisonian conspiracy” of Seneca and Piso (above, chapter 3, pp. 75f.). For textual problems of Ann., 16, 17, as regards Mela’s alleged codicili, see both Furneaux, 2, 449f. and Koestermann, 4, 368f. On Iunius Gallio, cf. above, chapter 3 (p. 125). Dating Annaeus Cornutus’ banishment to AD 66 would explain the silence of Tacitus, whose narrative of the latter part of that year has not survived (cf. dating it to AD 66 in RE s.v.). For Annaeus Cornutus’ writings, see Diog. Laert., 1, 7; on his tragedies RE s.v. RaccoSerra (1982) offers an intriguing, but highly speculative argument that Annaeus Cornutus’ Compendium reflects, in allegorical form, the Stoic theory of monarchy, fitting the early period of Nero’s reign (along the lines developed by Seneca in the De Clementia), manifested for example in his representation of Apollo and the Muses. On Anicius Cerealis, see Henderson (1903:273, 290); Syme (1958:407). On the matter of his alleged treachery under Caligula, see Koestermann, 4, 370. As regards Caligula’s proverbial cruelty and his mockery of familial affections, note a similar episode immediately following the Cerealis-Papinius affair in Dio’s epitome (59, 25, 6; cf. also Sen. De Ira, 3, 18, 3; Suet. Cal., 26, 27) and dealing with one Betilienus Capito and his son Betilienus Bassus; this may be either a rhetorical duplication of one

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story, or Caligula’s actual repetition of the same successful interrogative technique. Cf. also his treatment of Pastor (Sen. De Ira, 2, 33). It seems by now idle to continue the debate over the authorship of the Satyricon, owing to the acceptance of the traditional identification on the part of the overwhelming scholarly majority (the definitive argument seems to be offered by Rose (1971); cf. also the review of the controversy in Rose (1966a)). Among others, I find interesting Sullivan’s (1968:238ff.), psychoanalytical argument in support of the traditional view. A detailed discussion on Petronius’ dissident mentality as revealed in the novel is forthcoming in my literary companion to this study, now in preparation. Titus for the Arbiter’s praenomen, as found in the accounts of two so disparate authors as Plutarch and Pliny the Elder, must be preferred to the Gaius of Tacitus’ manuscripts—which, most likely, was a mistake of the original copyist; cf. Rose (1971:48f.). There is also a confused and corrupt passage in Schol. ad Juv., 6, 638, that describes the suicide of one Pontia, the daughter of a Petronius who is given the praenomen Publius and allegedly perished under Nero on a charge of conspiracy. As Rose (1971: 47), suggests, this entire account is, most likely, the late scholiast’s fantasy: the story it tells is precisely of the sort that Tacitus or Suetonius would cherish if they knew of it. In this case the argumentum ex silentio seems conclusive. The title Arbiter cannot, of course, be an official cognomen (cf. Rose (1971:44f.)); the manuscript inscriptions must be of later origin and, due to the absence of an article in Latin, must simply mean “Petronius the Arbiter.” Rose’s (1971: 55ff.) identification of the Arbiter with T.Petronius Niger, cons. suff. AD 62 or 63, seems to me perfectly plausible. One suggested stemma makes him a son of C.Petronius Pontius Nigrinus, cons. of AD 37—who is alternatively seen as the father of the Pontia from the Scholia, thus making him yet another Neronian victim—and a grandson of C.Petronius Umbrinus, cons. AD 25 (?). On the Petronii family as traditionally serving the emperors, cf. Nicols (1978:15, 21). Among its other prominent members, note the crafty legate of Syria (AD 39–42) under Caligula, P.Petronius, and Petronius Turpillianus, who may have helped the Arbiter’s (Niger’s) career—cf. Rose (1971:50ff., 54, 58). Cichorius (1961: 438ff.), on the basis of Serv. ad Aen., 3, 57, and Sid. Apol. Carm., 23, 145f., who imply the Arbiter’s link to Massalia, argues that he received his education there, as also did Iulius Agricola (Tac. Agr., 4); cf., on Petronius and Massalia, Sullivan (1968:40f.). It has been plausibly conjectured (see Rose (1966a:294)) that Tacitus’ source on Petronius was Cluvius Rufus (also a contemporary of the elder Pliny, our third authority on the man), a member of Nero’s inner circle whom Tacitus must have known personally. He may have also provided the anecdotes found in Pliny and Plutarch (ibid., 278). Tacitus’ other source, even if second-hand, may well have been his friend the younger Pliny who, like Petronius, served at one point as governor of Bithynia. Rankin’s (1971:94ff.) suggestion that this source could have been C.Fannius, one of the authors of the exitus illustrorum virorum literature, seems to me less plausible: close to Thrasea Paetus’ circle, this man would hardly have produced a surreptitiously admiring portrayal of the man who openly mocked (even in the manner of his death!) the entire system of Stoic values. Rankin’s assertion that

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Petronius “was accused of being on friendly terms with a leader of the philosophical opposition” is a clear misunderstanding: Scaevinus, whose amicitia was used as a charge against the novelist, was by no means “a leader of the opposition,” least of all philosophical, but a member of Piso’s senatorial-praetorian conspiracy. On Tacitus’ interest in morally paradoxical characters, see Syme (1958:548). As regards his own grudging admiration of Petronius, cf. Rose (1971:56); and Rankin (1971:88ff.). In Tacitus’ portrayal of him, note the language of pretense and artificiality—for example, erudito luxu, speciem simplicitatis, vitiorum imitatione. Rankin (1971:32ff.) offers a series of remarks on concealment and pretense both in the Satyricon and in Petronius’ character and lifestyle as sketched by Tacitus. I find untenable, however, Rose’s (1966:290f.) view, supported by Sullivan (1968: 258), that Petronius genuinely was “a good friend of Nero.” Rose’s contention that the catalog of Nero’s sexual depravities sent to him by Petronius from his deathbed was not a sign of hostility and mockery but “a gesture in character with the ‘plain speaking’ which Plutarch thought of as a form of Petronius’ flattery” seems to me baffling and suggests a misconception both of Plutarch’s meaning and of the relations between the two men. Neither is it plausible that Nero’s subsequent anger was directed not against him, but against Silia “for divulging the details” (Rose, loc. cit.): Petronius’ destruction of his signet-ring makes it clear that he anticipated Nero’s outrage. This is further supported by his gesture of breaking a precious vessel to deprive Nero of it: most valuable items were usually reserved for the emperor (Millar (1977:168)). In Rose’s posthumous monograph (1971), the insistence on Petronius’ genuine friendship with Nero is, however, substantially muted. Thus, for example, he recognizes that the Plutarch passage actually implies a subtle insult in the guise of flattery (ibid., 47). Regarding the project of the Satyricon, cf. Zeitlin (1971:80f.): “Petronius chose this subterfuge [the ambiguous form of menippaea] to avoid running the risk of exciting Nero’s inevitable envy of a literary rival”; see also Perry (1967:204f.). It could be that dissimulatio was Petronius’ psychological reason for selecting a narrator of the novel “other than himself” in the person of Encolpius. On Petronius’ self-consciousness, cf. Rankin (1971:38). For the possible relationship between the Satyricon and Petronius’ deathbed “catalog of vices,” see Williams (1978:289). The fact that Nero believed Silia to have been Petronius’ informant need not contradict the latter’s membership in the Imperial circle of libertines: a large circle may have consisted, as happens, of a few smaller and more intimate groups, and Silia may have shared with Petronius some particularly juicy detail—or one that Nero considered shameful (such as, for instance, temporary impotence—cf. Encolpius’ sexual disgrace in the Satyricon). I see no evidence to support Talbert’s (1984:470) contention that Petronius was tried intra cubiculum. On Petronius’ death and its contrast with Seneca’s, see Syme (1958:538), to whom belongs the quote ending my section IV. On Barea Soranus, see Henderson (1903:300f.); Warmington (1969:149ff.); Syme (1958:187, 263, 332, 554, 557, 560, and 1986:365); Griffin (1984:85, 92, 170ff.); also Furneaux, 2, 454. We do not know his exact praenomen; his gentilicum may have been Marcius (a member of this family is recorded as cons. suff. of AD 26 in CIL, 6,

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244—cf. Furneaux, 2, 127). Some believe it, however, to have been Servilius, owing to his daughter’s name. On his links to Vespasian and Titus, see below, chapter 5 (p. 193). Regarding Barea Soranus’ sponsorship in AD 52 of the decree honoring Pallas, see Millar (1977: 75); Talbert (1984:172). The co-sponsor, P.Cornelius Scipio, cons. AD 56 suggested that Claudius’ freedman secretary must be publicly thanked that he did not allow his descent from the Arcadian kings to stand in the way of his imperial service (Tac. Ann., 12, 52). (Pallas must have alleged that he descended from the mythical Pallas, the ancestor of Virgil’s Evander—Aen., 8, 51ff.) As regards the dignitas senatoria, the Pallas decree was certainly offensive, or could its formulation have implied a peculiar double entendre that makes an excessive adulatio sound as an insult? Be that as it may, Barea Soranus’ sycophancy hardly endeared him to Thrasea Paetus. As PIR 2 s.v. correctly suggests, on the other hand, Tacitus’ mention of Barea Soranus’ friendship with Rubellius Plautus, killed in AD 62, does not warrant the dating of his proconsulship by the same year; he could well have started in his office in 63 and stretched his imperium into 64 up to the arrival of successor, Antistius Vetus, which would account for his condoning the provincials’ opposition to that year’s plunder of artistic treasures. cf. Koestermann’s (4, 384) view that Tacitus made an error by confusing Barea Soranus with Antistius Vetus, who was beyond doubt the proconsul of Asia at some point in 64. On possible political realities behind the charges against Barea Soranus, see ibid. Besides his link to Rubellius Plautus and Antistius Vetus, Barea Soranus was distantly related to Domitius Corbulo: the latter’s daughter was married to Annius Vinicianus, the future conspirator (see below, chapter 5, pp. 195f.), who was probably a relative of Barea Soranus’ son-in-law, Annius Pollio (cf. above, chapter 3, p. 124). In chapters 1 and 2 I argued that Rubellius Plautus was innocent of any subversion, including an alliance with Domitius Corbulo, rumors to the contrary notwithstanding; if, as PIR 2 s.v. suggests, Barea Soranus’ proconsulship of Asia dates after Rubellius Plautus’ murder, the charges of subversion pressed against him could not have been related to the latter’s supposed activities in that province; he was tried as an independent politician accused of revolutionary designs, and the vengeance of the murdered friend could have been alleged by the prosecution as one of his motives. On the hypothesis that Barea Soranus’ son-in-law Annius Pollio compiled a collection of Musonius Rufus’ sayings, see above, p. 293; cf. MacMullen (1966:76). On Egnatius Celer, see Evans (1979); also Furneaux, 2, 468ff.; on his origin and education (in Tarsus), see Koestermann, 4, 402; cf. Schol. ad Juv., 1, 33. According to Schol. ad Juv., 6, 552, he also acted as witness against Servilia on the charge of magic. If this was the case, the trial ran a close parallel to the earlier prosecution of L.Iunius Silanus Torquatus and Iunia Lepida, denounced by the Stoic teacher Heliodorus. A provocative hypothesis on the portrayal of Egnatius Celer as Tacitus’ indirect comment on Seneca is argued in Norma Quesada’s unpublished essay; cf. Syme (1958: 345). Cassius Asclepiodotus very possibly was one of Barea Soranus’ clients, acquired by him during his Asian proconsulate—cf. Dio (62, 26, 2) mentioning both Egnatius Celer and Cassius Asclepiodotus in one clause; since we know from Tacitus (Ann., 16, 32) that the former was Barea Soranus’ client, the same

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may be inferred about the latter. Cassius Asclepiodotus was restored under Galba (Dio, loc. cit.). According to Dio’s brief account (62, 26, 3), “Soranus was slain on the charge of having practiced the kind of magic through the agency of his daughter, the foundation of this story being that when Nero was sick they had offered a certain sacrifice”; Tacitus’ version implies that Barea Soranus was not privy to his daughter’s ministrations, and it does not mention Nero’s illness. Bauman (1974:65f.) argues (unconvincingly, in my view) against Cramer (1954) for the absence of the maiestas charge in Servilia’s prosecution; his sharp (and artificial) separation of her case from her father’s is implausible, legalistic niceties notwithstanding. On the political character of the charge of magic and astrology under the principate, see further Koestermann, 1, 299; Cramer (1954); MacMullen (1966: chapter 4). On the negative effect of Servilia’s nimia pietas, cf. Koestermann, 4, 402; cf. Talbert (1984:270). Curiously, it was Barea Soranus, together with Seneca, whose name Boethius recalled as the Stoic exemplum (Cons. Phil. 1.3) in prison where he was thrown by Theodoric; it seems to me very probable that Boethius mistook him for Thrasea Paetus: the third name he mentions, Canius, seems to mean the Stoic Iulius Canus who was ordered to die by Caligula and discoursed on the immortality of the soul on his deathbed (Sen. De Tranq. An., 15). On the trial of Thrasea Paetus, see Henderson (1903:297ff.); Sizoo (1927); Saumagne (1955); Syme (1958:333, 557); Warmington (1969:148f.); Bellardi (1974); Bauman (1974:153ff.); De Vivo (1980:97ff.); Griffin (1984:171ff.); Koestermann, 4, 376ff. It was perceived long ago that Tacitus’ own feelings in regard to Thrasea Paetus and men like him were contradictory. This is, however, a problem of Tacitean scholarship beyond the scope of the present investigation. Tacitus’ somewhat ambivalent attitude must have been influenced by the events intervening between Thrasea Paetus’ time and his own—notably, by Vespasian’s execution of Helvidius Priscus, whose excessive intransigence he disapproved of. One suspects that Tacitus’ personal mental torment in many ways resembled that of Thrasea Paetus, something that stands in continuous need of sympathetic study—cf. Bellardi (1974: 131f.). On Thrasea Paetus’ contumacia (the lack of compliance that could be construed as legally punishable), see Bauman (1974: 154). Suet. Nero, 37, on Thrasea Paetus’ tristior et paedagogi vultus, is possibly derived from Nero’s own pronouncement—see Koestermann, 4, 377, with reference to Questa; it is rephrased by Cossutianus Capito’s portrayal of Thrasea Paetus’ followers—Ann., 16, 22; cf. Quintilian’s similar vocabulary in regard to the Stoics (1, pr. 15). On Thrasea Paetus’ perception by contemporaries and his own self-appreciation, note Syme (1958:556f.). I do not share Sizoo’s (1927) insistence on Thrasea Paetus’ “ideological” consistency, Saumagne’s (1955) on the wholesale Imperial persecution of the Stoics, or Toynbee’s (1944) on the link between Stoicism and republicanism. On Curiatius Maternus’ convoluted argument in the Dialogus, see Rudich (1985); on Marius Celsus, see Knabe (1970: 73). A detailed discussion of the use of Cato’s figure by Seneca and Lucan will be found in my literary companion volume to this study, now in preparation.

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On the legal aspects of the charges against Thrasea Paetus, cf. Bauman (1974: 154ff.), not always convincing, such as his attempt to argue that Thrasea Paetus’ disregard of Nero’s vox celestis could be legitimately construed as maiestas. As regards the background of the trial, Tacitus portrays Nero and Cossutianus Capito as fanning each other’s hatreds (Ann., 16, 21f.), which may well have been true; Eprius Marcellus seems to have been appointed to support the prosecution by the emperor’s fiat (ibid.). On him as Nero’s amicus see Crook (1955:47). On the interval between Cossutianus Capito’s preliminary attack and the formal accusation, cf. Furneaux, 2, 458f.; Koestermann, 4, 381, believes that Nero was actually present in the curia during Cossutianus Capito’s performance; I find more persuasive Furneaux’s, 2, 456, argument to the contrary, citing Ann., 6, 8, 6, as an example of a direct address to an emperor not present in person. Against Roger’s (1952) contention that Tacitus misuses documentary evidence, cf. Koestermann, 4, 394f.; cf. Talbert (1984:329). A powerful argument on the large measure of authenticity, in both style and content, of the Tacitean speeches, see Syme (1958:700ff.); cf. Griffin’s (1982) comparative analysis of Claudius’ oration as preserved in the Tabula Lyonensis and Ann., 11, 24. For Thrasea Paetus’ non-attendance of the senatorial meetings, cf. Talbert (1984:148); on Nero’s own absenteeism (ibid., 177). Regarding Thrasea Paetus’ habit of passing over adulatory proposals in silence, note, ibid., 253: “Silence was always open to interpretation as rebellion.” On public vows pro incolumitate rei publicae and pro incolumitate principis, see Koestermann, 4, 382. The sacramentum in nomen principis took place each year on January 1; one may recall that early in his reign Nero, in a gesture of liberalism, chose to absolve the consul Antistius Vetus from such an oath—cf. above, chapter 1 (p. 6). It is recorded (Tac. Ann., 4, 42) that Tiberius once expelled a senator from the curia for his refusal to swear to the acta Augusti. Tiberius and Caligula were not included in the oath (Dio, 59, 9, 1; Suet. Div. Cl., 11); Claudius’ name at this time must also have been dropped from the formula due to Nero’s contempt for him—see Koestermann, 4, 382f. Owing to corruption of the text in Ann., 16, 21, the nature of the festival Thrasea Paetus attended in his native Patavium is not clear. Dio (60, 26, 3) does not give the festival a name, saying simply that “he had acted in a tragedy in pursuance of some old custom at a festival held every thirty years.” Cichorius (1961:423ff.) reads the festival’s name as Cetaria—on the basis of an inscription (CIL, 1, 2787): lusor epidixib[us] et cetaes and a quotation by the grammarian Charisius (p. 125 K) from some text written ad Thraseam by P.Pomponius Secundus, the author of tragedies (cf. on him below, p. 304). As regards Tacitus’ usage of the term res publica, see above, p. 265. On Q.Aelius Tubero and M.Favonius, intransigent politicians with Stoic interests in the time of Gracchi and Cicero, see Koestermann, 4, 383f.; on acta divina, see Furneaux, 2, 456f. Regarding a patron’s legal protection of his clients see Saller (1982:130). For the common Roman notion of exile as infamia, see Talbert (1984:28). Against Rogers’ (1952) view of Thrasea Paetus and his associates as involved in a subversive plot, note Dio specifically mentioning (66, 33) that Barea Soranus and Thrasea Paetus were not accused of any conspiracy and that the latter did not insult

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Nero by word or deed—cf. Bauman (1974:155); also, Koestermann, 4, 333ff. On Thrasea Paetus’ attitude to his trial, see Syme (1958:561); Melmoux (1975:29f.). On his influence in the curia, cf. Knabe (1970:72). As regards the Senate’s functioning as a court, see, e.g., Talbert (1984:460ff.) (cf., in later times, Domitian’s use, similar to Nero’s, of military force to intimidate the Senate in the moment of crisis—Tac. Agr., 45). On the intercessio of a tribune under the Empire (subordinated to the tribunician power of the princeps), see Furneaux, 2, 461. On Eprius Marcellus’ speech, cf. Koestermann, 4, 393ff. (note also a description of his oratorical style in Tac. Dial., 5). On Arulenus Rusticus and his career, see Koestermann, 4, 390, with references; cf. Sherwin-White, 95f.; Marx (1937); also Syme (1958:745). According to Suetonius (Dom., 10), his book’s chief offense consisted in the reference to Thrasea Paetus and Helvidius Priscus as sanctissimos viros. On Helvidius Priscus Sr, see Toynbee (1944:51ff.): and, especially, Melmoux (1975), who believes (ibid., 30f.) that, already at that stage, the prosecutors saw Helvidius Priscus as a potentially more dangerous figure than Thrasea Paetus himself. Eprius Marcellus’ description of Helvidius Priscus as Thraseam desciscentem (Ann., 16, 28) ambivalently implies both secessio and factio. See the inscription mentioning P.Celer as Helvidius Priscus’ comes in AG (1924: 79a). Helvidius Priscus’ marriage to Thrasea Paetus’ daughter Fannia was his second. His son from his first marriage, the younger Helvidius Priscus, was executed by Domitian in AD 93 on a characteristic charge of animus nocendi: it was alleged that in a play about Paris and Oenone he censured the emperor’s divorce from his wife (Suet. Dom., 10). Sherwin-White, 493, suggests that his own wife, Anteia, may have been a relation of Anteius Rufus. The man instrumental in the younger Helvidius Priscus’ ruin, one Publicius Certus, was impeached by the younger Pliny in AD 97—Epist., 9, 13 (cf. Sherwin-White, 242f., 491f.). On the later fates of Thrasea Paetus’ wife, Arria, and their daughter Fannia, cf. Plin. Epist., 7, 19; Suet. Div. Vesp., 1; Schol. ad Juv., 5, 36; see further details in Sherwin-White, 243, 424f., 492. On Paconius Agrippinus’ character and attitudes, cf. an anecdote preserved by Epictetus (1, 2, 12ff.): one Florus, a closet “aesthetic dissident”—possibly L.Mestrius Florus, cons. suff. AD 75 and Plutarch’s patron (cf. Jones (1971:48))—debated whether he should or should not participate in Nero’s festival and was advised by Paconius to do so; when, in his turn, asked by him why, then, he abstained himself, Paconius Agrippinus answered that it was because he did not even raise the question. On Paconius Agrippinus’ father under Tiberius, cf. Furneaux, 2, 465f. I accept Furneaux’s (2, 464) identification of the elder Curtius Montanus with Nero’s boon companion (mentioned in Juv., 4, 107, 131ff.) and, on psychological grounds, of the younger Curtius Montanus with the prosecutor of Aquilius Regulus during the Vespasian “thaw”—against the view accepted by PIR 2 s.v. and Koestermann, 4, 395f., who ascribe that role to his father (cf. below, p. 313). On Avidius Quietus, cf. Sherwin-White, 388f., 496. Many years later he supported the younger Pliny’s move (Epist., 9, 13) against Publicius Certus. His descendants achieved prominence under Trajan and Hadrian. As regards other members of Thrasea Paetus’ entourage, one Domitius Caecilianus, called by Tacitus Thrasea Paetus’

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“intimate friend” (Ann., 16, 34), is said to have taken on the painful duty of informing him of the verdict of death pronounced by the Senate (ibid.); about this man nothing further is known. One may also mention the author of tragedies P.[Calvisius] Sabinus Pomponius Secundus (PIR 1 s.v. is an inadequate entry; see better, RE s.v.), cons. suff. AD 44, one of Vistilia’s sons, and a half-brother of Suillius Rufus and Domitius Corbulo (on this family, see above, chapter 1, p. 26 and below, chapter 5, p. 197). He was incarcerated by Tiberius in AD 31–7 for providing Aelius Gallus with refuge in his gardens (Tac. Ann., 5, 8); released by Caligula (Dio, 59, 62), he distinguished himself as governor of Upper Germany (AD 50–1)—where he started a friendship with the elder Pliny, who later wrote his biography (NH, 14, 56; cf. Plin. Epist., 3, 5)—and was awarded with triumphal decorations (Ann., 12, 27f.). He debated the art of tragedy with Seneca (Quint., 8, 3, 31) and must have been close to Thrasea Paetus, since he dedicated to him a work, probably antiquarian in subject, referred to repeatedly by later grammarians (Priscian, p. 538 K; Diomedes, p. 371 K; Charisius, p. 125 K). Note Tac. Dial., 13 on his “dignified life and enduring reputation.” For more on Pomponius Secundus, see Cichorius (1961:493ff.). On Vespasian’s relationship with Thrasea Paetus, see below, p. 309. On Thrasea Paetus’ last hours, cf. Syme (1958:745); Koestermann, 4, 405ff. Of written sources, Tacitus must have drawn on the exitus illustrium virorum books, in particular, the work of Fannius and Laudes Thraseae by Arulenus Rusticus, who was present at his deathbed, and Helvidius Priscus’ recollections—cf. Koestermann, 4, 388f. and 405 (with reference to Questa). Koestermann also speculates that Tacitus received some of his information directly from his father-in-law, Agricola, who, as a tribune, could have been present on the occasion. On Demetrius the Cynic, see Kindstrand (1980); MacMullen (1966). Note Koestermann, 4, 408, against Schunck’s (1964:50) untenable view that the similarity in Tacitus’ narrative between Seneca’s and Thrasea Paetus’ death scenes is more topical than historical. For the Senate’s greater libertas under Trajan, cf. Talbert (1984:94). 5 THE YEARS OF DECIMATION: II The coexistence in one body of henchmen and their victims was a recurrent feature of senatorial politics in the first-century Empire. Politics is the art of the possible: some of the private vendettas had to be abandoned, others lay dormant. Those wronged could have been made to pardon a guilty party, or, at least, to pretend to do so. All this caused an intricate and torturous interaction in the curia at both the individual and the group level. Pliny’s Epistulae (esp. 1, 5 and 9, 13) picture, in rich detail, the psychology and behavior of the participants, but the analysis of this material belonging to the later period of Domitian and Nerva is beyond the chronological scope of the present book. On the rewards bestowed on the delatores, cf. Koestermann, 4, 398f.; Talbert (1984:369). Cossutianus Capito may have perished during the civil strife of AD 68–

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70. On Eprius Marcellus and Helvidius Priscus under Galba, see Melmoux (1975: 31f.). On Licinius Mucianus, cf. Syme (1958:166f., 187f., 209, 231). Earlier in his life, for unspecified reasons, he angered Claudius and experienced something close to a dissident predicament: he withdrew to retirement in Asia and, in Tacitus’ words, “was as near to exile then as afterwards he was to the throne” (Hist., 1, 10). Under Nero he served as the governor of Lycia and a suffect consul between AD 64 and 67. Nero appointed him the legate of Syria upon Domitius Corbulo’s downfall, and together with Antonius Primus he became one of the chief architects of the Flavian victory. He and Vespasian agreed on a mutual strategy at the Berytus conference in June AD 69. On the Musonius Rufus-Egnatius Celer episode, see Evans (1979); Kindstrand (1980:96ff.); Dudley (1937:134ff.). On the legal aspects of this prosecution by an equestrian, see Chilver-Townend, commentary, 30f. Egnatius Celer was condemned probably under the lex Cornelia de falsis. As regards the enigma of Demetrius’ motivation, Griffin (1976:312) finds it in his wish to perform a rhetorical tour de force; Toynbee (1944:52ff.) arbitrarily postulates him as an anti-monarchical opponent of Musonius Rufus the monarchist; Koestermann, 4, 407f., takes it for an expression of the falsely understood Körpergeist; Dudley (1937:134) wants to see him as pursuing the course of fairness; this last view is supported by Kindstrand (1980:97f.), whose argument claims that Barea Soranus and Servilia were actually guilty of divination, which makes Egnatius Celer innocent of calumny—an attractive theory, although ultimately unconvincing: the primary moral issue in regard to Egnatius Celer was not the fact of his testimony, but his betrayal of his friend and benefactor. On Eprius Marcellus and Helvidius Priscus under Vespasian, see Bradley (1978a); Melmoux (1975:34f.); Chilver-Townend, commentary, 27f., 55f. For Helvidius Priscus’ speech as implicitly expressing a point of view on the nature of the principate, cf. Nicols (1978:24). On Eprius Marcellus’ links with Vespasian via Flavius Sabinus, see Bradley (1978). A Sentius, mentioned by Helvidius Priscus (Hist. 4, 7) as Vespasian’s friend and, presumably, Eprius Marcellus’ victim, is otherwise unknown; on the possibility of his identification with Cn. Sentius Saturninus, cons. AD 41 and republicanist speaker in the aftermath of Caligula’s death (Jos. Ant. Jud., 19, 166ff.), cf. Chilver-Townend, commentary, 29. Vespasian could have become acquainted with him during his service in the British campaign (Nicols 1978:23). Ritter’s emendation Anteio for Sentio allows an alternative identification—with the Neronian victim P.Anteius Rufus (above, chapter 4, pp. 144ff.). Eprius Marcellus’ claim that the choice of delegates by vote was obsolete is demagogical—see ChilverTownend, commentary, 28, for precedents. As regards Eprius Marcellus’ plea of innocence, cf. Suillius Rufus’ insistence, on an earlier occasion (see above, chapter 1, p. 28), that he was merely following the orders of Claudius and Messallina. See Talbert (1984:482) on s.c. Turpilianum of AD 61. Cf. Suet. Div. Tit. for the conspiracy of Caecina Alienus in which Eprius Marcellus was involved. On presentism, characteristic of the delatores, see Knabe (1970:66ff.); on pessimistic generalization, see Rudich (1985).

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Iunius Mauricus distinguished himself by an attack on the Neronian collaborationists immediately after Nero’s death (Plut. Gal., 8). On his initiative in the winter of AD 70, cf. Chilver-Townend, commentary, 53f. The material in the Imperial archives—commentarii—that must have contained, among other matters, confidential records of prosecutions, were supervised by the freedmen secretaries and located on the Palatine (Sherwin-White, 653). Iunius Mauricus, after having suffered exile in AD 93–6 under Domitian, later served as counsellor to Nerva and Trajan (ibid., 98). On the oath required from the senators and magistrates that they worked no harm to anyone (Tac. Hist., 1, 10), see Talbert (1984:261). Vibius Crispus’ influence and resourcefulness (cf. on him, Juv., 4, 82f.) were earlier proved by his success in AD 60 in mitigating the senatorial verdict on his brother Vibius Secundus, charged with extortion by the Mauretanians (Tac. Ann., 14, 28), and by his vendetta against his brother’s prosecutor, Annius Faustus, whom he impeached under Otho in AD 69 (Tac. Ann., 14, 28; Hist., 2, 10). On Helvidius Priscus’ final attack against Eprius Marcellus, see Melmoux (1975: 36f.); Heubner, 4, 104f. It seems that this showdown is recalled by Aper in Tac. Dial., 5: “What other than his eloquence allowed Eprius Marcellus a while ago to oppose the hostile senators when, beseiged and threatening, he parried Helvidius’ prudence, raw and untrained in this sort of contest”; cf. Chilver-Townend, commentary, 55f. Octavius Sagitta was condemned under the lex Cornelia de sicariis— cf. Heubner, 4, 106. Domitian’s response to the senatorial impeachment campaign against the Neronian informers strikingly resembles Nikita Khrushchev’s treatment of the Stalinist henchmen in the period of the “thaw” of the late 1950s-early 1960s. For the predicament of the pauci et validi, cf. the episode with L.Vitellius under Caligula (Dio, 69, 28); on that of their associates and clients, cf. the fates of the numerous supporters of Sejanus (Tac. Ann., 6, 3, 10). Note Tacitus’ perceptive comment on the condition of the delatores: “Forced to practice every kind of adulation, nonetheless, they never appear either servile enough to the authorities, or free enough to us” (Dial., 13). The scope of this book does not allow any detailed treatment of the Greek response to Nero—this, as well as discussion of the attitude and behavior of the Greek intellectuals, belongs to a special study. On the general problem of the Greek attitudes to the Roman authorities under the principate, see a stimulating discussion in Bowersock (1969). On Nero and the East, note, e.g., Schumann (1930); Sanford (1937). On his Grand Tour in Greece, see Bradley, commentary, 114ff., 137ff. and special articles—(1978b and 1979)—where he offers a convincing chronology of the visit; see also Griffin (1984:178ff.). Nero was accompanied by Tigellinus (Dio, 63, 12, 3); the rapacious Calvia Crispinilla (ibid., more on her below, p. 319); the delatores Paccius Africanus and Vibius Crispus; the arrogant freedmen (cf. Dio, 63, 10, 1); the musicians; and the Augustiani (on their proposal to erect a huge statue of Nero at the expense of the equestrians see Dio, 63, 18, 2). Helius, as Rome’s “regent,” must have been acting as institor or procurator under Roman private law (I owe this observation to Thomas Wiedemann); cf., on him, Bradley, commentary, 141f. Another notorious

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freedman, Polyclitus (see above, p. 275), was associated with Helius in what our sources portray (Dio, 63, 12, 3; cf. Tac. Hist., 1, 37; 2, 95) as policies of rapacity and terror; they both were executed by Galba (below, p. 325). Nero’s jealousy of rival artists was notorious (see Suet. Nero, 24; Dio, 63, 8, 5): note his murder of the famous mime artist and dancer L.Domitius Paris (cf. Lucian De Salt., 62f.). According to Dio (63, 18, 1), the emperor killed him on the grounds that the latter failed to teach him, though he lacked any capacity for it, to dance; in Suetonius’ version (Nero, 54), he did it simply because he considered Paris a dangerous artistic rival. A paradigmatic, even if apocryphical, case of “aesthetic dissidence” is preserved in Pseudo-Lucian’s Nero, 9: an Epirote singer is said to have so obstinately competed with Nero, despite the latter’s remonstrations, that he eventually had his throat cut by the Imperial henchmen. On Nero’s “liberation” of Greece, see Gallivan (1973). The gist of his speech on that subject seems to have been preserved in the so-called Acraephia inscription (Smallwood, 64); his adlocutio was also celebrated on coins (with the legends ADUEN [tus] AUG[usti] ADLO[cutio] AUG[usti—BMC Corinth, 34); cf. Bradley (1979:68 and note). In addition, he was acclaimed as Zeus Eleutherios (or even ZEUS NERO CAESAR—BMC Lydia, 75) and Dionysios Eleutherios—Bradley, commentary, 145f. The Senate, in compensation, received the Imperial province of Sardinia (Paus., 7, 17, 3). On the abolition of the Greek “independence,” see ibid.; Phil. Vita Apol., 5, 41; see also Plut. Praec. ger. rei publ., 19; cf. Jones (1971:18). On Nero’s harassment of rich and prominent Greeks, see Dio, 63, 11, 1ff.; on his atrocities in Delphi, see ibid., 14, 2; on his property confiscations, see ibid., 17, 1; on his pillage of artistic treasures, see, e.g., Paus., 10, 7, 3. Scholars continue to debate whether there were three or four Pseudo-Neros—see Bradley, commentary, 294f.; cf. Syme (1958:518); Millar (1964:214ff.); MacMullen (1966:143ff. with footnotes). The first of them (Tac. Hist., 2, 8f.; also Dio, 64, 9, 3)—according to one version, a slave from Pontus, and to another, a freedman from Italy—appeared in AD 69, the Year of the Four emperors, and is said to have mustered support both by his artistic accomplishments and by his physical resemblance to Nero, causing turbulence in Achaia and Asia. Operating from the island of Cythnus with his band of fugitives and deserters, he was reduced and killed by L.Nonius Calpurnius Aspernas (cf. on him, above, p. 294), the governor of GalatiaPamphylia-Paphlagonia, appointed by Galba. His body was carried back to Rome to dispel any remaining doubts. The second imposter, an Asian by birth and active for some time under Titus, around AD 79–81, seems to be known by his real name—Terentius Maximus. According to Dio (55, 19, 3), he gained followers in Asia and finally sought refuge with the Parthian king, who supported him for a while but later extradited him to the Roman authorities. The most obscure figure is the third imposter, whom Suetonius (Nero, 57) remembered from his youth, in AD 88. It is largely concerning this personage that scholarly opinion is divided (Bradley, commentary, 294, with references): some tend to deny him independent existence, in the belief that he was the same person as Terentius Maximus; others treat him

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separately on the grounds of Tacitus’ passing reference in Hist., 1, 2f., to the “trickeries” a false Nero was playing with Parthians during the time of troubles—this, however, fits neither the second nor the third pretender who appeared later, under the stable regimes of Titus and Domitian, and hardly the first one, who appeared far away from the Parthian border. Thus the existence of a fourth Pseudo-Nero cannot be entirely ruled out—cf. Tacitus’ allusion (Hist., 2, 6) to a “whole series” of them. Examples of contradictory sentiments about Nero on the part of the Greek intellectuals may be seen in Phil. Vita Apol., 5, 41; 7, 12; Dio Chrys. Or., 71, 9; Paus., 7, 17, 3; Plut. Quom. adul. ab am. internosc., 56f. Plutarch, in fact, may have personally witnessed Nero’s performance in Delphi and his proclamation at the Isthmus—see Jones (1971:16f.). The period witnessed the circulation of anti-tyrannical writings in Greek such as, for example, the anonymous Epistulae Chionis (edited, introduced, and translated by I.Düring, Göteborg, 1951) describing, in the manner of historical fiction, the conspiracy aimed at the assassination of the fourth-century BC tyrant Clearchus of Heraclea. The document almost certainly dates to the first century AD, but, on the balance of evidence, to the reign of Domitian rather than Nero. On this text, cf., in particular, MacMullen (1966: chapter 1). Although this and similar works, morally poignant but philosophically eclectic, could well have been perceived as concealing a “subversive intent,” or animus nocendi, by a dissident or censorious reader, they shared in this regard the vicissitudes of any literary genre within the conditions of a rhetoricized mentality. Their authors’ concerns and motivations were primarily rhetorical rather than political: the debate on tyrannicide was prominent in routine school exercises of the controversiae or suasoria type, which, however, would not necessarily prevent its practitioners from falling victim to interpretatio prava and arbitrary harassment. On the role of philosophers in opposition to the Imperial tyranny, see MacMullen (1966: chapter 2). Note Rabinovich (1985:226ff.) on their patterns of Lebensbildung. My separate study will offer a detailed inquiry into the attitudes and conduct of the Greek philosophers and rhetoricians under Nero, among them Dio Chrysostom, Plutarch, Euphrates of Tyre, Epictetus, Demetrius the Cynic, and Apollonius of Tyana. On Vespasian’s early career, cf. RE, s.v. For him as privatus see Nicols (1978:1ff.); on the wealth and patronage connections of his father, ibid., 12. Vespasian served as a military tribune in Thrace (Suet. Div. Vesp., 2), possibly with legio IV Scythica and returned to Rome before AD 34. This was followed with quaestorship in CreteCyrene (ibid.) around AD 35–6. Nicols (1978:5) accepts AD 40 for his praetorship. On Vespasian’s vicissitudes under Caligula, cf. Millar (1977:112); Saller (1982:62); Talbert (1984:229). For his command of legio II Augusta (Tac. Hist., 4, 3), first in Germany and then in Britain with the resulting awards see Nicols (1978:8f.), cf. Saller (1982:105), and for his subsequent withdrawal from public life due to his fear of Agrippina see Talbert (1984:144). On the Vitellian power bloc that also included the families of Plautii, Pomponii, and Petronii, see Nicols (1978:15ff., with the chart on

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p. 14), but note (ibid., 15) the caveat as regards scholarly attempts at understanding the Julio-Claudian politics in terms of the lasting family alliance. The Vitellian group started to break up around AD 51 after L.Vitellius’ death. On the Flavian links with the prominent Jews see ibid., 19; on Antonia Caenis, ibid.; cf. Millar (1977:79). For Titus under Nero, ibid., 22, 32. As regards his dissident connections under Nero, Vespasian was elected by the Crassi as arbiter ad terminos ponendos (CIL, 6, 1268), cf. Nicols (1978:11). Titus divorced Marcia Furnilla, whether for political or personal reasons, upon her giving birth to their daughter (Suet. Div. Titus, 4); cf. Nicols (1978: 23f.). Modern prosopographical reconstruction of this relationship is summarized in PIR 2 under M218, M219, and M265. Note, however, Nicols (1978:24), who believes that Vespasian’s dissident friendships were terminated no later than AD 65. For official rebukes directed at Vespasian see Nicols (1978:11). The secretary freedman who is said to have abused Vespasian in the period of his brief disgrace was presumably Tib. Claudius Phoebus from CIL, 6, 15207. Tacitus modifies the entire episode of Vespasian’s somnolence at Nero’s recital and places it in the apparent context of the Neronia II in the city of Rome earlier that same year (Ann., 16, 5; cf. Koestermann, 4, 344f.; see also above, chapter 4, p. 135). His reference, however, does not necessarily impeach the chronology given by Dio and Suetonius. Tacitus is concerned here with offering an illustration of the dangers of “aesthetic dissidence,” seizing at the same time an opportunity to allude to Vespasian’s future greatness; on his practice of mentioning his chief protagonists in passing in earlier ominous contexts, cf. Syme (1958:301, 309). Besides, both verbally and syntactically, Tacitus’ text is ambiguous enough to allow the alternative reading of the Vespasian episode as subsequent to the narrative’s immediate criticism of the Neronia II, and therefore as belonging to the indeterminate, albeit close, future (note particularly the word mox and its location toward the end of the sentence). Vespasian’s speedy recall speaks against Bauman’s (1974:155) belief in a formal amicitiae renuntiatio by Nero; cf. for the entire episode, Nicols (1978:11). On the reasons of his selection for the Jewish command see ibid., 25. For the career of Flavius Sabinus, see Nicols (1978:26ff.). He was cons. suff. AD 44 and the governor of Moesia c. AD 50–6. For Vespasian’s and Flavius Sabinus’ attitude to Claudius’ succession see ibid., 22. Modern views diverge not only on the dating of Flavius Sabinus’ tenure of the city praefecture, but even as to how many times he held that office. Nicols (ibid., 29) suggests three successive terms: AD 56–8; AD 61–8 (in the interval he possibly fell out with the personages in power, be it Agrippina or Seneca and Burrus) and in AD 69, under Otho and Vitellius. On the relationship of the two Flavian brothers, cf. ibid., 30. In Nicols’ view (ibid., 35), the Flavii started to operate on their own after Flavius Sabinus’ appointment as praefectus urbi in AD 56. The Flavian group consisted of relatives and friends (ibid., 23f.; 31ff.). The former (see family charts, ibid., 36–9) numbered L.Caesennius Paetus, cons. ord. AD 61 (on his Parthian fiasco cf. ibid., 31), who was Flavius Sabinus’ son-in-law, and his son L. Iunius Caesennius Paetus (note also one A.Caesennius Gallus, a legionary legate in the East in AD 67); M.Arrecinus Clemens, the future praetorian prefect of

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AD 70, who was the brother of Titus’ first wife Arrecina Terulla; a more distant equestrian relative Tib. Iunius Lupus whom Vespasian appointed in AD 70 the prefect of Egypt; and finally the famous Q.Petillius Cerealis Caesius Rufus who may have been married to Vespasian’s daughter Flavia Domitilla (cf. Tac. Hist., 3, 59; Dio, 65, 18, 1). Of the Flavian amici, the most important seems to have been Tib. Plautius Silvanus Aelianus, cons. AD 45 and 74 who succeeded Flavius Sabinus as the governor of Moesia for the period of AD 57–67 and fought there with distinction. In the aftermath of the “Vinician conspiracy” Nero recalled him without honor and replaced him with one Q.Pomponius Rufus. Under Vespasian he was made praefectus urbi (around AD 74) and received ornamenta, triumphalia by the formal decree of the Senate (ILS 986); cf. on his career Campbell (1984:360). Note Nicols (1978:34) on the validity of Iulius Civilis’ claim of friendship with Vespasian. I plan a detailed discussion of Jewish and Christian dissent under Nero in a special project. There is no doubt that Nero’s financial extortions (he badly needed money for his building programs in the aftermath of the fire, including that of the Domus Aurea) greatly contributed to the outbreak of the Jewish War—cf. Wiedemann (1989b:60). On his order, the procurator Gessius Florus (he owed his appointment to Poppaea Sabina who was friendly with his wife—Jos. Ant. Jud., 20, 11, 1) demanded, in May AD 66, forty gold talents to cover unpaid taxes; of these, he exacted seventeen talents by force from the Temple Treasury in Jerusalem. If we trust our sources, however, it seems that the Jewish populace tended to blame the local, rather than the central, administration for their misery: note the reports of the invocation of Nero’s name by crowds and demands that deputations be sent to him to seek justice (Jos. Bell. Jud., 2, 270, 294, 342). On the other hand, Josephus definitely plays down to the point of insignificance Nero’s role in the Palestinian events, after having given at the start of his account a perfunctory catalog of the emperor’s domestic crimes (Bell. Jud., 2, 250f.; Ant. Jud., 20, 153f.); furthermore, in this latter passage he chides those authors who “from hatred and enmity towards him have so shamelessly and recklessly revelled in falsehoods as to merit censure.” It is true that in some eschatological and prophetic texts of later date actually written by Jewish authors or originating within the Jewish environment (certain portions of the Oracula Sibyllina, for instance) Nero makes an appearance as the evil counterpart of the Messiah whose return will threaten earth with destruction—cf. MacMullen (1966:145ff. and references in the notes, 309). At the same time, Talmudic Judaism preserved an extraordinary legend (BT, Gitt., 56a) to the effect that Nero arrived in person to fight the rebels prior to Vespasian, but that he defected, becoming a proselyte to their faith and the ancestor of a rabbi active in the times of Hadrian—see, e.g., Smallwood (1976:306). As regards the loss of Tacitus’ account for AD 66–8, see, e.g., Furneaux, 2, introduction, [85]ff.; cf. his reconstruction of this period, ibid., appendix 3. On the coniuratio Viniciana, cf. Bradley’s (commentary, 220f.) summary of the modern opinions; also Henderson (1903:387ff.); Warmington (1969:156); Syme (1958:560). Suetonius’ text implies that this was a less serious affair than the conspiracy of Piso, which could mean that fewer people were involved, or else (and more likely) that it

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was detected at an earlier stage; consilia in AFA might mean that the plot was in no more than its initial stages (which is perhaps the reason why Dio says nothing of it), and the double entry in the AFA at the beginning and in the summer of 66 led Henzen (apud Bradley, commentary, 221) to posit a gradual unraveling of the designs of the conspirators during the course of the year; cf. Griffin (1984:178ff.). On the identity of the conspiracy’s leader, see esp. Rogers (1955:196); McAlindon (1956:128). For his rapid career under Corbulo, cf. Dio, 62, 23, 6: “To be sure, the Emperor had been so firmly persuaded that his general would not revolt, that Corbulo had obtained his sonin-law, even before he had been praetor, as lieutenant.” Dio places this observation in the context of the events three years later, in AD 66, but his, or his epitomators’, chronology in this part of the narrative is consistently faulty (cf., on this, Griffin (1984:157 and note 98)), so that what he says here must have pertained to the earlier occasion. Dio’s hyparchos corresponds to Tacitus’ pro legato legioni impositus, and both sources emphasize the extraordinary nature of such a command at so young an age. There is no evidence to support, following Henderson (1903:388f.); Rogers (1955: 211); and Warmington (1969:156), the view that Annius Vinicianus’ mission in Rome indicates some treasonous intent on the part of Domitius Corbulo; rather, as Griffin (1984:178ff.) puts it, If Vinicianus was not already harbouring disloyal sentiments, the plight of the two esteemed senators [Barea Soranus and Thrasea Paetus] and his young sister-in-law Servilia, in contrast with the extravagant display of Nero’s reception for the Armenian King, must have decided him to attempt in earnest the treason for which his brother had been unjustly exiled.

On Domitius Corbulo, see, especially, Syme (1970); ibid., 32—on Vistilia’s family as “a collection rather than a group.” Syme also argues for an earlier date of Domitius Corbulo’s consulship. Knabe (1970:72) correctly includes him among the typical multi bonique. For a conjecture that he was married to the daughter of the lawyer Cassius Longinus, see Syme (1970:36ff.). If accepted, this would bring the number of his recently disgraced relatives to seven: his nephew Glitius Gallus; his niece Servilia, her husband Annius Pollio, and her father Barea Soranus; the lawyer Cassius Longinus with his wife, Iunia Lepida, and his nephew L.Iunius Silanus Torquatus. Cf. Syme (1970:37): “Fact, allegation or surmise put Corbulo in perilous relation with a whole group hostile to Nero”; also Griffin (1984:178ff. and footnotes). As regards the status of the military under the early principate, note Domitius Corbulo’s nostalgic exclamation upon his recall by Claudius from Germany: “How lucky were the Roman commanders of old!” (Tac. Ann., 11, 20). On Domitius Corbulo’s rivalries, cf. Campbell (1984:321f.). Nero’s policies in regard to Corbulo’s rivals were characteristically ambiguous, as, for instance, in the case of Caesennius Paetus (Vespasian’s relative—above, p. 309), who suffered a humiliating defeat during his

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invasion of Armenia in AD 62. Besieged by the Parthians in Arsamosata, he barely escaped surrender owing to Domitius Corbulo’s military and diplomatic skill (Tac. Ann., 15, 24ff.; cf. Dio, 62, 31). Recalled to Rome, he was, to his own surprise, treated leniently by Nero, who may still have considered him a potential means of leverage, to be used in the future, if needed, against Domitius Corbulo. According to the story, the emperor accompanied his pardon with a characteristic joke, expressing his fear that the general, so prone to panic, might fall ill from prolonged anxiety (Tac. Ann., 15, 25). Domitius Corbulo’s power at the peak of his career is compared by Tacitus with that of Pompey during the war with pirates—Ann., 15, 25; see also Dio, 62, 3; cf. Syme (1970:39): “Corbulo, holding authority for twelve years in the Eastern lands, had acquired glory and prestige too great for a senator and a subject.” Note Campbell’s (1984:352) point: Domitius Corbulo’s policy was that of Nero. Modern arguments against Domitius Corbulo’s loyalty to Nero (viewing mistakenly his utterance “axios” as a confession of treachery)—e.g., Henderson (1903:388ff.); Rogers (1955:211); cf. Warmington (1969:156)—cannot be substantiated. Syme’s (1958:560) contention that he “had connections of one kind or another with several of Nero’s victims” is, of course, correct, but it does not necessarily require the conclusion that he was personally involved in subversion. Syme himself (loc. cit.) acknowledges that there are no known facts from the years AD 65 and 66 which “directly implicate Corbulo”; cf. also Wiedemann (1989a:62). As regards his posthumous reputation, Domitius Corbulo is referred to admiringly by Frontinus (Stratagem., 2, 9, 5; 4, 1, 21, 28; 4, 2, 3; 4, 7, 2) and by Ammianus Marcellinus (29, 5, 4). On the heroic worship he later enjoyed in Peltuinum, see Syme (1970:34f.). Dio, 62, 27, 1, couples the impeachment of Salvidienus Orfitus with that of Cassius Longinus, which would date it to AD 65; Dio’s chronology is here, however, as often, at fault: since Tacitus does not mention the episode, it must have happened after the narrative of the Annales breaks off. Suetonius’ and Dio’s versions of the affair diverge slightly: according to the former, Salvidienus Orfitus rented three shops which belonged to him to the delegates of unspecified communities arriving in the capital (Nero, 37); and in the words of the latter, the man was slain “for living near the Forum and letting out some shops or for receiving a few friends in them” (62, 27, 1). On the dating and circumstances of the Scribonii brothers affair, see, e.g., Henderson (1903:387); Warmington (1969:156); also Griffin (1984:180 and note 181). The consulship AD 67 of their successor Fonteius Capito provides the terminus post quem for their execution—Chilver, commentary, 5. On their background and family relationship, see ibid. On Nero’s attitude to the military in the last years of his reign and on his purge of the high provincial command, cf. Griffin (1984:178ff.). Of his immediate predecessors, even Caligula led in person his absurd sham expedition against the Germans, and Claudius temporarily presided over the conquest of Britain. Note Suetonius’ (Nero, 25) comment that Nero, in order to spare his voice, never addressed the soldiers except by a letter or in a speech delivered by another; cf. Campbell (1984:70ff.). Nero was acclaimed Imperator twelve times, but note Campbell’s (ibid., 124) view that so many acclamations rather point to political

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difficulty than to an outstanding military achievement. Only in the last year of his reign did Nero take Imperator as his praenomen (ILS 233f.)—Campbell (1984:94). On the coinage with the legends FIDES MILITUM or FIDES EXERCITUS, see Kraay (1949:133). Mattingly (1954) suggests that this coinage was issued in Lugdunum by the supporters of Verginius Rufus, but does not substantiate his argument. On Sulpicius Camerinus, a colleague in consulship (AD 46) of M.Iunius Silanus, see Syme (1986:280). On his putative family connections, see Griffin (1984:114, 264, note 90); also Chilver, commentary, 1, 5. Sherwin-White, 96, makes him the father-in-law of Piso Licinianus, confusing this last with his brother Crassus Frugi, cons. AD 64. On the possible maiestas aspect in his case, cf. Bauman (1974:156f.). For telling details about Aquilius Regulus, see Plin. Epist., 1, 5; 2, 11; 20; 4, 55, 7; 6, 2; cf. also Syme (1958: esp. 100ff.); Chilver-Townend, commentary, 54; Sherwin-White, 93ff., 202f., 356ff. It is suggested (ibid., 96), as an explanation of Aquilius Regulus’ feud with the Crassi, that his father was ruined by a member of that family, but no evidence is offered to support this. On “modernism” and “presentism” as characteristic of the delatores, see Knabe (1970:68). On Aquilius Regulus’ cursus honorum, see Sherwin-White, 94, 171. The reward of seven million he received for his activities as an informer was seven times greater than the required senatorial census; his priesthood and, possibly, quaestorship around AD 66–7 may have been part and parcel of the same delatory deal—cf. Heubner, 4, 100. Ironically, no further office is attested for him after his subsequent praetorship (date uncertain). Whether he ever achieved the consulship is uncertain, although the construction quem…praetorium et consularium ausuri sumus in Curtius Montanus’ speech (Hist., 4, 42) is sometimes seen as an allusion to a consulship he received at some point later—Chilver-Townend, commentary, 54. As regards the report of the abuse that Aquilius Regulus inflicted on Piso Licinianus’ severed head, Williams (1978:221f.) suggests that it inspired Statius to the similar cannibalism of Tydeus; Heubner, 4, 101, denies the historicity of the story, but offers no persuasive argumentation. Aquilius Regulus died c. AD 104, aged about sixty-five. See Plin. Epist., 6, 2, for an ironic obituary of him. Although he had not acted as an official prosecutor under Domitian (cf. Sherwin-White, 94), he still took part in public campaigns against the dissidents and played on occasion the role of a provocateur: thus, he wrote a pamphlet against Arulenus Rusticus (cf. above, chapter 4, p. 172) and tried to lay a political trap for the younger Pliny (Plin. Epist., 1, 5; cf. Sherwin-White, 96f.). Upon Domitian’s assassination, when the senators went after the delatores as they did during the Vespasianic thaw, he panicked (Plin., loc. cit.), and early in AD 97 Pliny even thought for a while of attempting his impeachment (ibid.), but abandoned the idea, possibly on the advice of Iunius Mauricus who was recalled by this time from his exile. Aquilius Regulus amassed a fortune approaching sixty million sesterces (Plin. Epist., 2, 20); he was a renowned captator of legacies and even managed by means of a trick to insinuate his name into the will of Verania Gemina (cf. on her below, p. 323), the wife of his worst enemy, Piso Licinianus (Plin., ibid.).

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On the family of the Crassi (including the fate of their next generation in the second century), see Syme (1986:277ff.), note his stemmae XIV and XVII; cf. also Griffin (1984:196 with the footnotes). Cf. Grenade (1950); and Syme (1986: 255ff.) on the activities of Pompey’s descendants under the Julio-Claudians. On the senatorial attempt to impeach Aquilius Regulus in the winter of AD 70 and on the exchange between Curtius Montanus and Vipstanus Messalla, see Syme (1958: 101, 188); also Heubner, 4, 100f. (with references) and Chilver-Townend, commentary, 54f. I follow this last in identifying this Curtius Montanus with Thrasea Paetus’ young poet-friend. More commonly accepted (cf. PIR 2 s.v.) is an identification of this character with the poet’s father (cf. above, p. 304), who is said to have been influential with Nero. I find this, however, much less plausible: why should a collaborationist launch an attack on the delatores? The usual objection against the alternative I propose here—that the poet was too young to lead the impeachment campaign (cf. Heubner, 4, 95; Koesterman, 4, 394f.)—is by no means valid: starting with the late Republic, young nobiles at an early stage of their career often prosecuted prominent senators to make themselves conspicuous. Vipstanus Messalla must have been the son of L.Vipstanus Messalla, cons. ord. AD 48, who was the second husband of Aquilius Regulus’ mother. Arguably, the younger Vipstanus Messalla was Tacitus’ important source for the third book of the Historiae—see Chilver-Townend, commentary, 54. On him as an advocate of “pessimistic generalization” in Tacitus’ Dialogus, see Rudich (1985). As regards his intervention on behalf of Aquilius Regulus, cf. Chilver-Townend, commentary, 55: “What Messalla actually did is obscure, but presumably he argued against the whole policy of reviving old grievances.” On Nero’s return from Greece, cf. Griffin (1984:179f.). I follow Bradley’s (1979) chronology; cf. his commentary, 149ff. Note Phil. Vita Apol., 4, 24: Nero stopped cutting the Isthmus because “he apprehended a revolution in the Empire.” Silius Italicus was born in AD 29 and had a very long life; a telling portrayal of this man is found in Plin. Epist., 3, 7 (cf. Sherwin-White, 227f.); for a eulogy of him, see Mart., 7, 63; on his earlier activities as an informer, cf. Griffin (1984:154ff.). It has also been suggested that Nero intended to make Vespasian’s nephew, T.Flavius Sabinus Jr, consul ordinarius for AD 69—see Nicols (1978:31, with references). On Marius Celsus, see Syme (1958:682f.); cf. Knabe’s (1970:73) comment: “Regarding the Principate as the form of the Roman state, he served not the person but the cause, since behind the pietas erga principem there always existed for him pietas erga rem publicam.” On the possibility that Marius Celsus was one of Tacitus’ sources, oral or written, see Chilver, commentary, 72.

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6 THE YEAR OF REVOLUTION On Bellum Neronis, see, e.g., Kraay (1949); Mattingly (1954); Chilver (1957); Brunt (1959); Shotter (1967 and 1975); Townend (1961); Hainsworth (1962); Van Ooteghem (1968); Greenhalgh (1975:6ff.); Nicols (1978:48ff.); Levick (1985); and, in greater detail, Sancery (1983:35ff.). A concise, but valuable, account of political events is found in Chilver, commentary, 3ff. For a lucid discussion of dynastic, financial, military, and cultural factors leading to Nero’s downfall, see Griffin (1984: 185ff.). Nero’s Oriental plans were Napoleonic: he contemplated the conquest of Ethiopia and the Caspian, where he sent scouts on a reconnaissance mission (Suet. Nero, 19; Dio, 63, 8, 1); in preparation for the Eastern campaign a new legion (I Italica) was raised and legio XIV Gemina transferred from Britain (cf. Tac. Hist., 1, 6; 9, 31, 70; cf. 2, 11). Campbell (1984:390) observes that Nero was interested primarily in the romantic aspects of the Eastern expedition which did not help him with the Senate or the army. For a general account of Nero’s Ostpolitik, see Schur (1923). On the economic distress in Gaul and Spain as the result of Nero’s exactions—a point against modern attempts to portray him as a promoter of the provincial welfare—cf. Chilver, commentary, 7; note also a detailed analysis of the extant evidence by Brunt (1959:531ff.). On the portrayal of the army in our sources, see Chilver (1957). Nero’s fall and the subsequent civil war provided immense room for the activities of the pauci et validi, from whose ranks several spectacular strongmen emerged, such as T.Vinius Rufinus, Antonius Primus, Caecina Alienus, Fabius Valens, and Licinius Mucianus. Of these, the first two, according to our records, were in fact common criminals—Vinius, a petty thief (Tac. Hist., 1, 48), and Antonius Primus, a forger of wills (Tac. Ann., 14, 40). The latter was officially tried lege Cornelia in AD 61, expelled from the Senate, and later restored to it by Galba (Tac. Hist., 2, 86). All of this, however, is beyond the chronological scope of this discussion. On Nero’s relationship with the troops, see Campbell (1984: 42ff.). cf. ibid., 43: “The troops may have been indifferent to the fate of Nero, and that was important since the upper classes, who certainly hated him, were prepared to provide leaders for rebellion.” For the role of the emperor’s military propaganda in existimatio see ibid., 120ff.; on the shifts of the attitudes on the part of the military as regards the ruler—ibid., 365ff.; on winning support of the army—ibid., 382ff. Our sources portray soldiery as motivated during the events of AD 68–9 only by greed and licence spreading universal corruption; cf. ibid., 365ff. For the confused geography and chronology of the revolt in Gaul, see, e.g., Bradley, commentary, 240ff.; Sancery (1983:37ff.); also Chilver, commentary, 7. Levick (1985:324) makes March 14, AD 68, terminus ante quem of the uprising. Hainsworth (1962:87) suggests that it was deliberately timed for the Ides of March. On the revolt’s leadership and composition, cf. Levick (1985:321). Regarding Roman exiles in Gaul, cf. Nero’s alleged intent to massacre them—Suet. Nero, 43; also

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Bradley, commentary, 261ff., the review of those known. Only three names, besides that of Vindex, of the native rebellious leaders survived: [Valerius] Asiaticus—cf. Bradley, commentary, 245, on the possibility that this was the legate of Belgica in AD 69, later Vitellius’ son-in-law; Fannius (absent in PIR); and Rufinus. All three are mentioned by Tacitus in the context of the military unrest of the following year, during which the army demanded of Vitellius their punishment on account of their earlier betrayal of Nero (Hist., 2, 94). Vindex seems to have been supported by Aedui, Sequani, Arverni, and Allobroges, whose capital, Vienna, may have been the center of the uprising—see Van Ooteghem (1968:20); he may also have enjoyed Basque connections—Wiedemann (1989b:65f.). Plutarch (Gal., 4) numbers the insurrectionist force at about one hundred thousand men; see, however, Sancery (1983:39f., 62ff., cf. 49f.) on the possibly symbolic meaning of this figure and on the actual lack of support for Vindex on the part of many provincials (owing to their division of loyalties), notably in Lugdunum, the capital of Aquitania; also Levick (1985: 321 and footnote). cf., on the role and extent of tribal rivalry, Wiedemann (1989a:66). Brunt (1959:546) suggests that Vindex belonged to the Arverni tribe; Sancery (1983) speculates that he was by origin from Bordeaux. On his ancestry, cf. Bradley, commentary, 245 (with references). He was an Imperial legate of the praetorian rank (Suet. Nero, 40), but it is not clear which of the three Gallic provinces he governed—most likely Lugdunensis, though Belgica and Narbonensis have also been proposed. On this issue, cf. Levick (1985:318f., with footnotes), and Bradley, commentary, 245f. Vindex was regarded as separatist by Schiller (1872) and his followers, including Henderson (1903). The fallacy of this view was demonstrated by Kraay’s (1949) landmark study. To his numismatic argument on the Augustus-like phraseology as reflected in Vindex’s coins, one may add an inscription from Aquitania (CIL, 13, 1589) dedicated, in a similar vein, to salus generis humani—see Sancery (1983:48). On Tacitus’ possible attempt to represent Vindex as a nationalist (cf. Hist., 1, 89; 4, 57), see Daly (1975:77ff.); for a different interpretation of the relevant passages, denying that Tacitus had any such intent, see Brunt (1959:544ff.). For the legend HERCULES ADSERTOR on Vindex’s coins, see Kraay (1949:140). Vindex is called adsertor a Nerone libertatis in Plin. NH, 20, 160. Sancery (1983:42) observes that the same term adsertor—or even vindex— libertatis is in Roman jurisprudence applied to a Roman citizen who assists at a ceremony of manumission of a slave. The matter of Gallic separatism in the period between the revolt of Vercingetorix against Julius Caesar and the third-century Gallic Empire of Postumus and Tetricus is obscure. Romanization seems to have been largely successful, and nationalism for most of the time ostensibly dormant. Still, nationalist sentiments, if only on the level of wishful thinking, were bound to affect various individuals and groups, even some among Vindex’s followers—cf. Levick (1985:340). The Batavian uprising of AD 69–70 under Iulius Civilis and Iulius Classicus is outside the chronological scope of this book. Urban (1985) attempted to interpret it not as an anti-Roman nationalist revolt, as it is represented by Tacitus, but as a result of civil warfare in which various

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groups and tribes supported different claimants to the emperorship. His argument is interesting, but convoluted, and I do not find it entirely conclusive. If, however, we assume the traditional view, Iulius Civilis may have started as a nationalist dissenter already under Nero. A descendant of Batavian chieftains (Tac. Hist., 1, 59) and an officer in the Roman army (ibid., 4, 32), he was arrested at the time of the revolt of Vindex on a false charge of subversion and sent in chains to Rome, and his brother Claudius [Iulius] Paulus (not in PIR) executed by Fonteius Capito (ibid., 4, 13). Released by Galba, Iulius Civilis barely escaped danger from the Vitellian soldiers, who found him suspicious (ibid.; cf. 1, 59), and soon afterwards proceeded to revolt, eventually suppressed by the Flavian Petillius Cerealis. For Vindex’ speech as reported by Dio, cf. Bradley, commentary, 253; Sancery (1983:38); on his motives, Brunt (1959:531ff.); Sancery (1983:36); Levick (1985:321); on the possibility that he may have been summoned by Nero to Greece—Hainsworth (1962:90). Plin. NH, 20, 160, reports that Vindex imitated deadly paleness through artificial means in order to impress legacy hunters. Sancery (loc. cit.) assumes, although it does not clearly follow from this passage, that by imitating terminal illness he wanted to signal to Nero that he should be allowed to die in peace (cf. a similar story about Seneca and Caligula (Dio, 59, 19)). As regards Dio-Xiphilinus’ report of the Vindex-Verginius Rufus conference on the eve of Vesontio, it is questioned by Greenhalgh (1975:8), and rejected by Levick (1985); but accepted by Kraay (1949); Brunt (1959:538f.); Hainsworth (1962:95); Daly (1975:90); and Sancery (1983:66f.). Cf. Chilver, commentary, 8: “About that the truth cannot be known: the story of the parley was one which suited both Verginius and Galba when the new emperor had to decide what to do about the general whose force eliminated his ally.” Against the reliability of Ioannes Antiochensis, see, e.g., Shotter (1967:374 n. 8); Levick (1985:332); cf., however, Hainsworth (1962:94 and n. 55) on the procedures of the Byzantine epitomators who used to replicate the original source even if sometimes in a bungled manner. For Fonteius Capito and his predecessors, cf. Chilver, commentary, 5f. and note; see also Bradley, commentary, 259 (with references); cf. ibid., 251, for his explanation of Nero’s lack of initiative against Vindex by his implicit trust in both commanders of the German armies. Fabius Valens acted against Fonteius Capito possibly in the hope of promotion from Galba—Wiedemann (1989b: 69); failing in that, he instigated Vitellius’ pronunciamento and became one of his most able generals. Fonteius Capito seems to have been popular with the army: his actual killer, the centurion Crispinus, was later executed on the soldiers’ demand, and his accuser, Iulius Burdo, was barely saved by Vitellius with the help of a conceit (Tac. Hist., 1, 58). M.Trebellius Maximus, the rapacious governor of Britain, appears not to have been uninvolved with the Gallic insurgents—Bradley, commentary, 259; see, however, Sancery (1983:43) speculating that Trebellius Maximus’ secret complicity may have been restrained by the insubordination of the legion’s commander (and later the suffect consul of AD 81), M.Roscius Coelius—Tac. Hist., 1, 60 (and Agr., 7); but cf.

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Chilver, commentary, 121f. Levick (1985: 318 footnote) correctly surmises, against Shotter (1975:62), that the legate of Aquitania (possibly, Betuus Cilo) was hostile to the revolt. On the other hand, A.Caecina Alienus, the ambitious quaestor of Baetica, declared early for Vindex and was among the first to join Galba (Tac. Hist., 1, 53). In reward, he was appointed by him as commander of a legion in Upper Germany, but later, when threatened with prosecution for embezzlement, he became one of the architects of Vitellius’ revolt (ibid.)—cf. Sancery (1983:130). Tacitus (Hist., 2, 86) also mentions another early supporter of the revolution, Cornelius Fuscus, later the praetorian prefect under Domitian; in his youth he repudiated a senatorial career, but upon the outbreak of hostilities brought his colony (located, hypothetically, in Northern Italy) to Galba’s side and was rewarded with the procuratorship of Illyricum. On him and his activities, see Syme (1937). Modern authorities widely diverge on the actual date of Vesontio—from the very end of May and even early June (Hainsworth (1962:86ff.)) to late April (Shotter (1975:73)). Cf. Levick (1985:319f. and notes). She opts (ibid., 326) for the third or fourth week of April, but I do not find her argument conclusive. She also believes (ibid., 327) that the city of Vesontio may have been the center of the uprising. Sancery (1983:62) speculates that Vindex procrastinated for the purpose of “psychological warfare” and avoided pitched battle in order to gain time and stir up further disturbances in the provinces; cf. Warmington (1969:160). On Verginius Rufus, in addition to the literature on Bellum Neronis listed earlier (p. 314), see Syme (1958:86, 130, 179, 462, 615f.); Sherwin-White, 142f., 366, 502f.; Brouzas (1931). For his origin and background, see Syme (1958:86); Levick (1985: 322). Modern views on Verginius Rufus’ conduct at Vesontio are summarized by Levick (1985:319 and footnote, 346). As regards his Imperial salutations, I do not feel compelled to reduce these, following Levick (1985: 320 and footnotes, 335), to only two instead of three: one upon Nero’s death and another upon Otho’s. I find it perfectly plausible that he was first saluted in the immediate aftermath of Vesontio as a response to Galba’s proclamation, the German legions must have considered him a far more acceptable choice than Galba who had mistreated them in the past (cf. Suet. Gal., 6), and next after the news arrived of Nero’s death. The votive inscription of Pylades saltuarius runs: Iovi o. m./pro salute/et victoria L./Verginii Rufi/Pylades saltuar/ v.s. Despite Levick’s (1985) objections (p. 329 and notes), it seems that the language closely resembles the customary formula of a prayer for an emperor—cf. Greenhalgh (1975:9). On the moral value placed on Verginius Rufus’ rejection of supreme power, cf. Dio, 63, 29, 5: “He has acquired a great name, greater, in fact, than if he had accepted the sovereignty, for refusing to receive it.” Within the modern spectrum of opinions on Verginius Rufus, the one extreme portrays him as a staunch legalist, “the Roman George Washington”—Brouzas (1931); while at the opposite pole he is seen as a spineless opportunist. As often happens, however, such contradictory arguments tend to cancel each other out. They presume also a need for basic consistency in motives and behavior which is not necessarily the way the mind of the Imperial politician operated.

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Earlier discussions by Kraay (1949); and Chilver (1957) suggested that Verginius Rufus may have remained loyal to Nero. Brunt (1959:537ff.); Hainsworth (1962:89); Daly (1975:82ff.); and Shotter (1975:66) essentially accept defection. Note also Wellesley’s (1975) emphasis on the ambiguity of his stand. Levick’s (1985) forceful argument to the contrary, presenting him as a model of loyalty, suffers from her outright rejection of the Plutarch-Dio evidence (Plutarch having been a younger contemporary of the events) and by her weak interpretation of Verginius Rufus’ rejoinder (to the historian Cluvius Rufus, recorded in Plin. Epist., 9, 19) that by having acted as he did he secured for posterity the freedom of self-expression, which makes no sense if he supported Nero to the end—cf. Brunt (1959:539); Townend (1961:338). For this exchange, see Sherwin-White, 504; Levick (1985:328f., 342f.); on his epitaph—ibid., 239 (and footnote). As ablative absolute, pulso Vindice may be rendered not only temporal, but also causal or concessive with different import—cf. on this ambiguous syntax, Sherwin-White, 502. Note Plin. Epist., 9, 19, on the resentment that the epitaph caused. On Verginius Rufus’ affair as a precedent for Vespasian see Nicols (1978:57). Verginius Rufus was, incidentally, the younger Pliny’s guardian in his youth (Epist., 6, 8; 9, 11; see also his lengthy obituary in 2, 1). On their relationship in the context of patronage, cf. Saller (1982:136). On Tacitus’ treatment of Verginius Rufus, cf. Shotter (1967:158ff.); Hainsworth (1962 and 1964:128ff.); Townend (1961); Levick (1985:345); also Chilver, commentary, 215. It may not be accidental that Tacitus’ only extant reference to the actual affair at Vesontio (Hist., 1, 8; cf. Heubner, 1, 36)—an imperare noluisset dubium: delatum ei a milite imperium conveniebat—is brief and unostentatious. In contrast to both Plutarch and Dio, this language is ambiguous and fraught with uncertainties (Heubner, loc. cit., points out the adversative asyndeton; note also the pluperfect subjunctive and the impersonal imperfect), almost as if betraying a sign of embarrassment, an effort to honor factual truth, and to avoid a lapse in taste or tact. Levick (1985:339ff.) offers an analysis of what she calls “stratification” in Verginius Rufus’ story. In spite of the assumption of his total loyalty to Nero, her reconstruction, although different from, is not completely incompatible with mine. Levick’s review of Verginius Rufus’ subsequent vicissitudes makes the strongest part of her interpretation of him as a Neronian loyalist, although I am not persuaded by her argument (ibid., 337) that even his reported conference with Vindex at Vesontio is a deliberate piece of fiction resulting from his compromise with Galba. On the other hand, Otho and Vitellius may have sought to improve their public image by honoring him (cf. ibid., 337f.)—either on account of his presumed allegiance to Nero or because of his newly acquired prestige as a “constitutionalist.” His retirement under the Flavians concurs with Levick’s discussion (ibid., 339), as does his resurgence under Nerva (ibid., 343f.). Both Vespasian and Domitian had their reasons to dislike him, even though probably on different grounds. In contrast, Nerva was another Neronian of ambivalent reputation and possibly a friend: at least, both enjoyed writing erotic verse (Mart., 8, 70; 9, 26; Plin. Epist., 5, 3). On the later neglect of Verginius Rufus’ tomb, see Plin. Epist., 6, 10.

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On Clodius Macer, see Nicolas (1979:1, 483); Sancery (1983:56ff., 91f.); and, especially, Bradley (1972). For his chronology, see Mattingly, BMC, L, CLXXXVIf.; reconsidered by Sancery (1983:57f.). Africa’s populace must have been bitterly resentful of Nero, which accounts for Clodius Macer’s initial success: one may recall in this connection six principal landowners there whom Nero put to death (Plin. NH, 18, 35)—cf. Griffin (1984:98); Sancery (1983: 55). There were Galba’s partisans in proconsular Africa who struck for a brief period in Carthage coins with the legends HISPANIA and SPQR (Mattingly, BMC, L, 293 #15). Sancery (1983:60) speculates that they were quickly suppressed by Clodius Macer. On the other hand, we possess the latter’s coins with the legends CARTHAGO and SICILIA (RIC, 1, 193), implying his influence and partisans on the island—Bradley (1972:457). For his coinage as self-styled s[enatus] c[onsulto] pro prae[tore] Africae, see RIC, 1, 193–5. Bradley (loc. cit.) aptly compares Clodius Macer with Sextus Pompeius; largely because of his blockade the inhabitants of Rome and Italy saw no improvement as a result of Nero’s downfall—Wiedemann (1989b:69); cf. Griffin (1984:109). Clodius Macer was not the only governor of Africa to fall victim to civil strife. Incidentally, the same centurion Papirius who executed him was sent in AD 70 by Licinius Mucianus (Tac. Hist., 4, 49) to assassinate the governor of Africa L.Calpurnius Piso, cons. AD 57 and the first adoptive father of Piso Licinianus. On Calvia Crispinilla, Nero’s magistra libidinum (Tac. Hist., 1, 73), cf. Nicolas (1979:1, 487); Bradley (1972); Chilver, commentary, 135ff.; Griffin (1984:180ff.); also above, p. 307. Her first husband may have been, on the basis of epigraphic evidence, the Roman knight Sex. Traulus Montanus, who was condemned in AD 48 (Tac. Ann., 36)—see Chilver, commentary, 136. There has been much speculation on the motives behind her mission. Thus, e.g., Charles-Picard (1968:162) suggests that she served as a liaison between the conservatives and Macer; Momigliano (CAH 2 , X, 740) believes that Nero sent her to ensure Macer’s support against Vindex, but that she betrayed him. Bradley’s (1972:455ff.) treatment of the issue is the most persuasive: he firmly connects Clodius Macer’s activities and Suetonius’ (Nero, 45) report of the grain shortage in Rome in late spring/early summer of AD 68 (which refutes Chilver’s, commentary, 136, view that the grain embargo started only after Nero’s collapse); he rightly places Calvia Crispinilla’s mission even earlier; and he demolishes Furneaux’s (2, 482) opinion, followed by Greenhalgh (1975:9f.), that she was sent by Nero for the purpose of instigating Clodius Macer “to insure the fidelity of Rome by threatening it with famine.” Sancery, following PIR 2 s.v., places Calvia Crispinilla’s arrival in Africa after Nero’s death as a refugee from the anti-Neronian harassment which not only unnecessarily violates Tacitus’ chronology, but disregards her return to Rome in the very midst of the civil disturbance, testifying to her courage and strength of character. On Galba’s pronunciamento and Nero’s reaction to it, see Bradley, commentary, 257ff.; cf. Syme (1937:10f.); Griffin (1984:181); Greenhalgh (1975:16f.). Sancery (1983:63) suggests that Nero deposed the consuls Silius Italicus (cf. above, chapter 5, p. 208) and M.Galerius Trachalus on suspicion of their loyalty. He also speculates

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(loc. cit., 54 n. 20) that there might have been treason on the part of the commanders of these Eastern armies recalled by Nero that prevented their timely return to fight the rebels. Enlisting slaves was symbolic of the extreme peril to the state. For the reconstruction of Galba’s geneology, see Sancery (1983:11f. and appendix 1). His elder brother, C.Sulpicius Galba, cons. ord. AD 22, committed suicide after he was disgraced by Tiberius on grounds of bankruptcy (Suet. Gal., 3; Tac. Ann., 6, 40). On Galba’s enigmatic connection to Livia Augusta, cf. Wiedemann (1989a: 29). Sancery (1983:18), on the basis of Suetonius who claims (Gal., 2) that Galba was “in no degree” related to the house of the Caesars, denies Plutarch’s evidence of their kinship altogether. This is not, however, fully conclusive: some kind of family tie is the easiest way to explain Livia’s extraordinary concern for him. He may have acquired yet another remote link to the dynasty through his marriage to Aemilia Lepida, a descendant of the triumvir and, very likely, a daughter of Tacitus’ idol, M.Aemilius Lepidus, cons. AD 11; the members of this clan married occasionally into the Imperial family—see Sancery (1983: loc. cit. and note 23). At any rate, in the final analysis it hardly matters whether Galba’s kinship with the dynasty actually existed in any degree or—as Sancery believes—was invented for political purposes: Galba’s coinage emphatically reflects the propagandistic value of this notion—see Kraay (1949). On the other hand, Plutarch’s positive statement (Gal., 5) that he was made consul under pressure from Livia is obviously wrong, since she died four years earlier, in AD 29. For Galba’s adoption into the Livian clan, see Sancery (1983:13f). He is styled L.Livius Ocella Sulpicius Galba in Ostia’s fasti (AE, 1945, #31); in Egypt his name appears even during his reign as L.Livius Galba on coins and as L.Livius Sulpicius Galba in the edict of Tiberius Alexander (cf. below, p. 324)—see Sancery (1983:13f. and footnotes). Note Plut. Gal., 14, which in the context of Nymphidius Sabinus’ attempt at a coup attributes to the speech of the loyalist tribune Antonius Honoratus a special emphasis on Galba’s Livian link. Cf., in this connection, Kraay (1949:148): “Since the sanguis divinus of Augustus survived only in the veins of fractional inheritors, the proposal to reform the principate came well from one who had been so closely associated with Augustus and his successors.” For Galba’s senatorial career and his vicissitudes under Caligula and Claudius, see Sancery (1983:19ff.); cf. Greenhalgh (1975:15f.). His predecessor as legate of Upper Germany, Lentulus Gaetulicus, joined M.Aemilius Lepidus, Drusilla’s husband, in conspiring against Caligula, and both perished. Galba’s German command made him a formidable reputation as a disciplinarian. Sancery (1983: 65) plausibly suggests that the German legions continued to hate him, and that this influenced the conduct of Verginius Rufus and contributed to the uprising of Vitellius. To his credit, his own sense of discipline was exemplary: Galba is said to have run on foot, while directing military maneuvers, with shield in hand, for twenty miles beside Caligula’s chariot (Suet. Gal., 6). On his administration of Africa and that province’s problems, cf. Sancery (1983:27f.). Wiedemann (1989b: passim), not unreasonably, portrays Galba as a sort of é minence grise during this entire period, from Caligula onwards. Still, I find no compelling evidence to support Charles-Picard’s (1968:241) contention that he

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was removed by Nero from Italy as a potential leader of the opposition: so far he had acted as a supporter rather than a foe of the regime. On Galba in Spain, where he made, incidentally, his acquaintance with Quintilian, see Sancery (1983:30ff.). Plutarch (Gal., 2) reports that Galba allowed anti-Neronian verse and songs to circulate freely and did not “share in the displeasure of Nero’s agents, wherefore he was still more beloved by the inhabitants.” Sancery (1983:33) sensibly suggests that this anti-Neronian campaign in Spain was spurred by Nero’s extermination of the Annaei who possessed there vast clientela and belonged to the prominent local aristocratic clans. His claim (ibid.) that Galba was threatened by the exposure of the Pisonian conspiracy is, however, a mere guess. The only, and, in my view, insufficient, evidence for the belief that he entertained relations étroites with the Calpurnii Pisones is his later adoption of Piso Licinianus. Chilver (1957) argued that Galba rather than Vindex was the author of the entire movement. Later he revised this opinion (commentary, 6, note 9), but still contended that there was some arrangement between the two prior to Vindex’s proclamation and that there existed a network of Galban partisans in Spain. Their coinage does signal, in fact, unanimity of the provinces in revolt: CONCORDIA HISPANIARUM ET GALLIARUM—cf. Sancery (1983:67). Note that the language of Vindex’s message to Galba as reported by Suetonius (Gal., 10)—ut humano generi assertorem ducemque se accommodaret—does not necessarily imply emperorship (Vindex himself is called adsertor a Nerone libertatis by Plin. NH, 20, 160), a sign of caution on both sides; cf., on the authenticity of the formula, Levick (1985:321). On Galba’s pro-senatorial and “constitutionalist” phraseology of liberation, see, especially, Kraay (1949); note an inscription from Leptis Magna—bello quod imperator Galba pro republica gessit—Sancery (1983:51 n. 10); and the legend (and figure) of GENIUS SENATUS on Galba’s coins—ibid., 103. As regards Galba’s “augustianism,” cf. Kraay (1949:147): “Nero’s rule had become unpopular, and to return to the Saturnia regna of Augustus was an obvious slogan”; see also Sancery (1983:51ff., 61, 99f.). On military sanction of the emperor’s rule, see Campbell (1984:374ff.). Although the army had power to proclaim the emperor, in itself such an act by no means provided a legal basis for his position. The vote of the Senate, on the other hand, despite a customary force it implied, became in most cases a mere formality in regard to a fait accompli; cf. Campbell’s observation (ibid., 381) that the emphasis on legality “concealed the helplessness of the Senate and Roman people” that was unmasked by the civil war. Plutarch reports (Gal., 6) that Galba wrote to Verginius Rufus “inviting him to join in efforts for the preservation alike of the Empire and the freedom of the Romans.” Verginius Rufus’ response to this, if any, is not mentioned. On the difficulties that Galba encountered with the troops in Spain, cf. Syme (1937:9f.). The mutiny in the German legions was fomented by the discontented senior officers, notably, Fabius Valens and Caecina Alienus, both of the pauci et validi type; Verginius Rufus’ successor in Upper Germany, Hordeonius Flaccus, another of Galba’s unfortunate appointments, was coerced into compliance by the unruly soldiery (cf. Tac. Hist., 56). The legions’ “constitutionalist” appeal to the authority of

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the Senate and the people—“so that their sedition could receive better treatment” (Tac. Hist., 1, 12; cf. 55 on the oath of allegiance to the SPQR from the two Lower Germany legions)—is an interesting touch, most likely a diplomatic conceit, used by the masterminds of the revolt, in view of the recent conduct of Verginius Rufus. Cf. Campbell (1984:25, 384) against Talbert’s (1984:82) view that the gesture signified a genuine devotion on the part of the legions to the Senate as the concept transcending individual emperors. Vitellius was much better qualified to seize the opportunity earlier rejected by Verginius Rufus—cf. Levick (1985:324). Although not even an aristocrat by origin (he descended from an equestrian Italian family of Nuceria (Suet. Vit., 2)) Vitellius appears connected, even if remotely, with the dynasty via Plautii (his great-aunt married the father of Plautius Britannicus). More importantly, he was the son of the great L.Vitellius, who earned the rare distinction of becoming ter consul ordinarius, and he was himself intimate with four Julio-Claudian emperors—Tiberius, Caligula, Claudius, and Nero (cf. Tac. Hist., 3, 86). According to Suetonius (Vit., 7) Vitellius owed his appointment by Galba to the gratia of T.Vinius. For Vitellius’ adoration of Nero’s memory, cf. ibid., 11. L.Calpurnius Piso, cons. AD 57, the adoptive father of Piso Licinianus, was the grandson of Cn. Piso, Tiberius’ friend and later rebel—see Syme (1986:63, 279). As a consul-designate, he took part in the Antistius Sosianus-Vibullius affair of AD 56 (see above, chapter 1, pp. 21f.). For his execution by Licinius Mucianus, cf. Heubner, 4, 90f. On Piso Licinianus and his adoption by Galba, cf. Greenhalgh (1975:371); Wellesley (1975:15ff.); Sancery (1983:147ff.). The place and date of his exile under Nero is unknown; the terminus post quem must be AD 60 and the fall of Rubellius Plautus, whom he used to frequent in Rome—Tac. Hist., 1, 15 (Plutarch specifically asserts that Nero persecuted Rubellius Plautus’ friends—see above, pp. 280f.). Another possibility is that Piso Licinianus was exiled upon the downfall of his brother Crassus Frugi (cons. AD 64) sometime after the trial of Thrasea Paetus. Sancery’s (1983:148) dating of this exile to AD 65—and linking it with the exposure of the Pisonian plot—seems to me erroneous: if this was the case, Tacitus would certainly have mentioned it. Both Tacitus (Hist., 1, 14) and Plutarch (Gal., 23) emphasize Piso Licinianus’ neutral response to the news of his adoption. Wiedemann’s (1989b: 71) view that Galba’s choice was not so much for Piso as against Otho seems simplistic, as is his dismissal of Piso as a “complete nonentity”; cf., in contrast, Wellesley (1975: 19). On the juridical aspects of Piso Licinianus’ adoption, see Sancery (1983:149). Another candidacy reportedly considered and discounted (Plut. Gal., 23; Suet. Gal., 12) was that of Galba’s great-nephew C.Cornelius Dolabella, who was later executed on the orders of Flavius Sabinus under Vitellius (Tac. Hist., 2, 63). Cf., on him, Wiedemann (1989b:71, 74); I do not share, however, his belief that Galba may have bypassed his great-nephew and debarred him from the succession out of fear for the latter’s life. Suetonius (Div. Tit., 5) suggests the possibility that, when Vespasian sent Titus to Rome to pay his respects to Galba, he did this to get this charming young man adopted by him. Sancery (1983:135) tends to accept this rumor and even speculates that Galba could in fact have deliberated on such an idea with a view to Imperial

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security, but was cut short by the mutiny in Germany and lack of time. However, Galba’s mistrust of Vespasian becomes clear from his replacement of the latter’s brother Flavius Sabinus (cf. Plut. Otho, 5) with A.Ducenius Geminus, cons. suff. AD 62, as praefectus urbi. On Galba’s adoption speech in Tacitus, see Sancery (1983:155f.); Chilver, commentary, 75f.; Heubner, 1, 47ff. (with references); cf. Campbell (1984:83, 369). One of Tacitus’ putative sources, Marius Celsus (Chilver, commentary, 25, 72), who was personally involved in most of the events, was present when both Galba’s and Piso Licinianus’ speeches were delivered. Note Tacitus’ use of res publica in the narrow technical sense of the pre-Augustan form of government; cf. Chilver, commentary 78: Is it possible that T. thought the rare sense of the words to be ben trovato in a speech by Galba—a man who desired to be oute Kaisar out’ autokrator (Plut. Gal., 5, 2), but who eventually found that a res publica in the only sense he could recognize it was now an impossibility?

Note also Chilver, commentary, 75, on Tacitus’ hindsight and the relevance of Galba’s adoption to Nerva’s: “One thing is inescapable, namely, that both Tacitus and his audience would have had vividly in their minds the adoption of Trajan by Nerva in October 97, together with the events which preceded and followed that act.” On the parallels between the two events, cf. Sancery (1983:126). The fact that elsewhere (Hist., 2, 76ff.) Tacitus attributes to Licinius Mucianus an argument for hereditary succession no less forceful than that of Galba here for the policy of Imperial adoption only testifies to the historian’s balanced view on this matter; cf. Heubner, 1, 48f. cf. Cole (1992) on how Tacitus’ view of Galba reflected on the narrative strategy of Historiae, I. Recent scholarship has challenged the significance of the “adoption principle” or “adoption strategy” in the Imperial policies of the late first and second centuries ADcf. Wiedemann (1989b:71). Temporini (1978:134ff.) demonstrated the “good Emperors’” emphasis on the confinement of power within one family. Still, the “adoption principle” was officially proclaimed by Trajan as a part of the “Optimus Princeps” propaganda: it implied that the choice of the Imperial heir must be acceptable to the Senate. The period witnessed five adoptions of individuals unrelated to the ruling emperor into the Imperial family: Galba’s of Piso Licinianus (AD 69); Nerva’s of Trajan (AD 97); Hadrian’s of Ceionius Commodus (AD 136) and of Arrius Antoninus (AD 138); and, in the same year, the latter’s (as conditioned by his own adoption by Hadrian) of Lucius Verus. Of these, the adoptions of Piso Licinianus, Trajan, and Antoninus were made most certainly with the view of the acceptability of the candidates to the Senate. Naturally, the idea of the “best choice,” as enunciated in Galba’s speech, remained a fiction, characteristic of the principate’s discrepancy between verba and acta: it was not observed even by Galba himself who chose Piso

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Licinianus not only for his qualities, but rather because of personal attachment. But the weight of the “adoption strategy” lay in the notion that in his choice of an heir an emperor must not be bound by strictly dynastic or familial considerations: thus Hadrian bypassed his closest relatives, L.Iulius Ursus Severianus and Pedanius Fuscus, in favor of Ceionius Commodus (Aelius Caesar). For Galba’s relationship with the army, see Sancery (1983: esp. 125ff.): also Campbell (1984:36). Cf. Galba’s pronouncement reported by Dio (64, 3, 3) as regards paying the donativum to the preatorians: “I am accustomed to levy soldiers, not to buy them.” Chilver, commentary, 13, suggests that even a small sum might have reconciled the guard for a moment. Still, in the moment of danger Galba could not escape closer identification with the troops—ego vester sum et vos mei (Suet. Gal., 20). Dio’s (64, 3, 1ff.) account of the massacre of the praetorians at Galba’s entrance in Rome is confused, and the figure of seven thousand casualties is implausible. It is probable that Dio, or his epitomator, mistook for the massacre of the praetorians the disturbance created by the sailors—classiarii—whom Nero enlisted in his new legio I Adiutrix: Galba denied them legionary and, consequently, citizen status and slaughtered many of them (Tac. Hist., 1, 6; Plut. Gal, 15), cf. Nicols (1978:59); Wiedemann (1989b:70). Galba also dismissed, presumably on the grounds of disloyalty, four tribunes (Tac. Hist., 1, 20): Antonius Taurus and L.Antonius Naso from the praetorian guard, Iulius Fronto from the vigiles, and Aemilius Pacensis from the city cohorts. Of this last, we know that he was restored by Otho (ibid., 87). After no more than six weeks in Rome, Galba sent to Pannonia under the command of Antonius Primus his faithful legio VII Galbiana that followed him from Spain, thereby leaving himself at the hands of the disloyal praetorians, cf. Nicols (1978:60). According to Plutarch (Gal., 28), Galba’s body was eventually buried by Helvidius Priscus on Otho’s authorization. Piso Licinianus’ funeral inscription (CIL, 6, 31723), made by his wife, Verania Gemina—a daughter of cons. AD 49 Q. Veranius—omits his last adoptive name (which seems to have been [Ser. Sulpicius (?) Piso (?) Gal]ba Caesar—cf. CIL, 6, 2051), his title of Caesar, and the very fact of his adoption by an emperor, with the evident purpose of avoiding further potential trouble; on this, see Wellesley (1975:28). T.Vinius and Cornelius Laco perished on the same day as Galba and Piso Licinianus (Tac. Hist., 1, 42; 46; Plut. Gal., 27); Galba’s trusted freedman [Marcianus] Icelus, whom he had promoted to the equestrian rank (Suet. Gal., 14), was executed by Otho (Tac. Hist., 1, 46). According to Plut. Gal., 20, Otho supplied Galba with much gold and silver for conversion into coins and with slaves for personal attendance. Suetonius (Otho, 5) refers to Otho’s debts and strained finances as one of the motives for his subsequent coup—cf. Sancery (1983:123f.); see also ibid., 53f.; Greenhalgh (1975:35f.). Born in AD 36, Otho was thirty-six years old. Although his social origin was undoubtedly much inferior to Galba’s (his family was of Italian-Etrurian stock), it is worth remembering (cf. above, p. 268) that his grandfather—not unlike Galba—enjoyed the patronage of Livia Augusta, in whose household he was reared, and became a senator through her influence (Suet. Otho, 1). Furthermore, Otho’s father was

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intimate with Tiberius and was even believed by many to have been his bastard (ibid.). Cf. Wiedemann (1989b:70ff.); ibid., 72, on Statilia Messallina as (legally) Nero’s heir. Our sources insist on the role played by Poppaea Sabina’s former astrologer in Otho’s enterprise (Tac. Hist, 1, 22, and Plut. Gal., 23, call him Ptolemy; Suet. Otho, 4—Seleucus; cf. PIR 1 P766/S254; Juv., 557ff., specifies that he was repeatedly sent into exile by the authorities). This is another example of Otho’s cultivated affinity with the superstitious Nero. According to Plutarch (Gal., 2) Otho owed his appointment in Lusitania to Seneca’s gratia. Otho’s secretary ab epistulis, Iulius Secundus, deserves a footnote, if only because he acts as a character in Tacitus’ Dialogus. He was a nephew of Iulius Florus, the leader of the revolt in Gaul under Tiberius, and probably came from Bordeaux. Steeped in the rhetorical tradition of the Southern Gaul, he became later a friend of Quintilian and wrote a life of Iulius Africanus, the famous Gaulic orator of the earlier generation; cf. on Iulius Secundus, Millar (1977:88, with references). As regards the role of the praetorian guard in Otho’s coup, cf. Campbell (1984:118ff.): it could not impose an emperor if the rest of the army were unwilling. Also, they lacked political consciousness to pursue consistent policy and to exploit properly whatever influence they were capable of acquiring. On Tiberius Alexander, see Turner (1954), and Burr (1955); cf. Wellesley (1975: 110ff.); Wiedemann (1989b: 76). Tacitus calls him respectfully illustris eques Romanus (Ann., 15, 28). His father, Alexander Lysimachus, enfranchised by Tiberius, may have participated in Philo’s embassy to Caligula, been imprisoned in Rome on this latter’s orders, and released by Claudius—see Turner (1954: 58); Herod Agrippa’s daughter Berenice was betrothed to his brother Marcus—ibid. Tiberius Alexander himself was intellectually creative: he apparently figures as an interlocutor in one of Philo’s tracts and his work on the rationality of animals is mentioned in another (ibid., 56). For his military career under Domitius Corbulo, cf. Syme (1958:790); earlier, in AD 46–8, he served successfully as a procurator of Judaea. As the prefect of Egypt, he succeeded Caecina Tuscus, disgraced by Nero (above, p. 263). On the politically critical situation in Alexandria in AD 68, see Turner (1954:59f.); Wellesley (1975:111ff.); Sancery (1983:81). For his edict, see, in extenso, Chalon (1964); also Turner (1954: 60f.); cf. Bradley, commentary, 259. I quote it as translated in Wellesley (1975:113). For Tib. Alexander’s subsequent career, see Turner (1954:61ff.). Nicols (1978:54f.) believes that Vespasian knew of Vindex’ plans before the outbreak of the revolt and that Vindex probably saw in him a potential supporter. Nicols concedes, however, that there is no evidence that Vespasian negotiated with Galba before Nero’s death (ibid., 61). On Petronius Turpilianus’ execution, cf. Sancery (1983:93f.). Plutarch twice (Gal., 15, 17) strongly emphasizes Petronius Turpilianus’ personal loyalty to Nero. Cf., however, Syme’s (1937:12) suggestion that, following the lead of Verginius Rufus, he may have deserted Nero without declaring for Galba; see also Chilver, commentary, 5, 52. Some lesser names of Galba’s victims among officials, presumably former Neronians, are known (Tac. Hist., 1, 37): two in Spain, Obultronius Sabinus,

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years before impeached by Helvidius Priscus (see above, chapter 1, p. 22), who may have been at the time the proconsul of Baetica (cf. Syme (1937:10)), and [L.] Cornelius Marcellus, possibly identical with the former associate of Iunia Lepida, the wife of the lawyer Cassius Longinus who himself barely escaped Nero’s wrath back in AD 66 (see above, chapter 4, p. 140); and, in Gaul, the procurator Betuus Cilo. On the vicissitudes of Tigellinus in the aftermath of Nero’s downfall, see Furneaux, 2, 295; Sancery (1983:114f.). Dio, 64, 33, attributes his rescue by Galba to the latter’s desire not to appear a weakling against the demands of the mob; Plut. Gal., 17, credits the intrigues of T.Vinius whom Tigellinus may have bribed (cf. Chilver, commentary, 135). Sancery (1983:49) suggests that Vinia Crispina, whom Tigellinus is said to have protected, could have been acting in Rome as Galba’s agent. Plutarch, loc. cit., quotes Galba’s edict, referring to Tigellinus’ reportedly poor state of health and published in response to public pressure demanding his head. But Tacitus mentions this kind of outcry only under Otho. It is not possible to decide which of these accounts must be trusted; both seem to be derived from a common source and chronologically misplaced; or, alternatively, perhaps the public campaign seeking Tigellinus’ life lasted long enough to be reflected in both. On his execution, cf. Wellesley (1975:56). Tacitus (Hist., 1, 72) obscures, perhaps deliberately, Otho’s role in it. According to Plut. Otho, 2, Tigellinus made an attempt to bribe the messenger who carried the death order. Of Nero’s ordinary henchmen lynched by the mob with Nymphidius Sabinus’ tacit permission, Plutarch mentions (Gal., 8) Spiculus the gladiator (T.Claudius Spiculus, a decurio in Nero’s guard, cf. Bradley, commentary, 275) and Aponius the informer, cf. Sancery (1983: 77f.). Cf. Wiedemann (1989b:70) on Galba’s conflict with the Julio-Claudian household, domus Caesaris, although I find the point somewhat overstated. It is true that he executed (Plut. Gal., 17) Nero’s hated freedmen—“ministers”: Helius, the “regent” of Rome in Nero’s absence, Polyclitus, Patrobius, and Petinus (absent in PIR); Dio (64, 3, 4) adds one Narcissus and the famed poisoner Locusta. On the other hand, Suetonius tells us (Gal., 15), to emphasize Galba’s disregard of public opinion, that he appointed another odious character, Halotus, the reputed poisoner of Claudius, to the important procuratorship. Sejanus’ project to marry the widow of the younger Drusus strongly suggests his intent to obtain, if not necessarily the position of emperor, then at least that of regent for a period until the young Tiberius Gemellus reached adulthood—cf., e.g., Seager (1972:213ff.). For Nymphidius Sabinus’ earlier career, cf. an inscription in Smallwood, 269 =ILS 1322. On his advantageous position in the last months of Nero’s rule, cf. Griffin (1984:181); on his activities in Rome, his betrayal of Nero, and his subsequent putsch against Galba, see also Chilver, commentary, 13; Sancery (1983:69, 79ff.). The rough total of the amount promised by Nymphidius Sabinus to the praetorians in Galba’s name was one thousand two hundred and eighty million sesterces—Chilver, commentary, 50; cf. ibid.: “The figures have been challenged on the ground that a donative of this size was unparalleled for years to come; but Nymphidius was

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unparalleled too.” I owe to Gordon Williams the observation that he may have indicated a huge sum of money that Galba could not possibly deliver with the purpose of his own aggrandizement at Galba’s expense. It is not clear whether Galba intended to replace Nymphidius Sabinus with Cornelius Laco or to have the two sharing the office, still mindful of Sejanus’ precedent—cf. Sancery (1983:80). But with the collapse of Nymphidius Sabinus’ putsch, Cornelius Laco in effect became for a short time sole praetorian prefect. As regards Nymphidius Sabinus’ following, cf. Saller (1982:139). Mithridates VIII of Pontus was deposed by Claudius in AD 48 in favor of his brother Cotys. Nero criticized him in one of his poems (Suet. Nero, 24), probably satirical (cf. Bradley, commentary, 144). On Galba’s disregard of the maiestas procedures in the disposal of both him and Cingonius Varro, cf. Sancery (1983:83). Sporus’ career and especially his public associations with, successively, Nero, Nymphidius Sabinus, Otho, and Vitellius are suggestive in regard to the vagaries of existimatio; it was Vitellius who overdid it, by ordering the boy to perform on stage a girl being raped, and thus drove him to suicide (Dio, 64, 10, 1); cf. Dio Chrysostom (31, 9)—our only source on this—about the obscure role that Sporus may have played in Nero’s overthrow: allegedly, he “in anger disclosed the Emperor’s designs to his retinue, and so they revolted from him and compelled him to make away with himself as best as he could.” Plutarch (Gal., 13) says that Nymphidius Sabinus sent for Sporus “while Nero’s body was yet burning on its pyre”; for an ironic comment on Nymphidius Sabinus’ chances of coming eventually into possession of the “throne of the Caesars,” see Daly (1975). Nero’s letter to the Senate, “demanding vengeance for himself and for the commonwealth, and offering throat trouble as an excuse of his own absence” (Suet. Nero, 41), was offensive and lacking in substance. At some later point he summoned a sort of senatorial and equestrian committee (ibid., 43; cf. Dio, 63, 26, 2) in the palace, but reportedly spent most of the time demonstrating to its members the work of water-organs “of a new and hitherto unknown kind” (Suet., loc. cit.), as if in prefigurement of the cruel mockeries over the ruling elite practiced in later decades by Domitian. In this juncture, Bradley, commentary, 254, states that “consultation of senate and people was hardly likely to be anything more than ineffectual,” but it was a matter of protocol, mandatory for the princeps in his theoretical capacity as the supreme representative of the SPQR; and this does not depend (cf. ibid.) on whether the crisis in the Imperial province was primarily the emperor’s concern. Suetonius’ allegation (Nero, 43) that Nero intended to poison the senators at a banquet is dismissed by Bradley, commentary, 263—in my opinion, too easily—as nonsense. Nero offered ten million sesterces for Vindex’ head, and the latter promptly responded by offering the same sum for Nero’s (Dio, 63, 23, 3). He seized Galba’s estates; the latter retaliated by confiscating the Imperial property in Spain (Plut. Gal., 5). While the outcome was still uncertain, the only gesture of defiance to Nero that the Senate dared to allow was an ambiguous rejoinder (Suet. Nero, 46). But, according to Dio (63, 27) it took, at the last moment, the initiative in withdrawing Nero’s guards. On the sentence pronounced on Nero by the Senate, cf. Sancery (1983:55). As regards the punishment more maiorum, it consisted, according to Suet. Nero, 49, in the

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criminal being “stripped, fastened by the neck in a fork, and then beaten to death with rods.” Of those who attended Nero at his suicide, Epit. de Caes., 5, 7, mentions Phaon (apparently, his secretary a rationibus—Millar (1977:77)), Epaphroditus (who was exiled and then executed by Domitian under pretext that he was guilty in regicide for having helped Nero to die—Suet. Dom., 14; Dio, 67, 14; cf. Plin. Paneg., 53), Neophytus, and Sporus; with the exception of Neophytus (otherwise unknown), the same list is in Dio, 63, 27, 3; cf. Bradley, commentary, 276. July 9, AD 68, is the majority consensus; the alternative date, based on astrological evidence and calculations, is July 11—cf. Bradley, commentary, 282.

322

SELECT BIBLIOGRAPHY

This bibliography lists only scholarly works that are referred to in the notes. The dossier was effectively closed by the end of 1990. ABBREVIATIONS AE BMC CAH CIA CIC CIG CIL FIRA IG ILS OLD PIR RE RIC TLL A&R AC AJAH AJP ANRW Anc. Soc. Anc. W. CB CJ CP CQ CR

L’Année Epigraphique Coins of Roman Empire in the British Museum (ed. H.Mattingly) Cambridge Ancient History Corpus Inscriptionum Atticarum Corpus Iuris Civilis Corpus Inscriptionum Graecarum Corpus Inscriptionum Latinarum Fontes Iuris Romani Anteiustiniani Inscriptiones Graecae Inscriptiones Latinae Selectae Oxford Latin Dictionary Prosopographia Imperii Romani Saeculorum I-III Pauli-Wissowa Realencyclopädie der Altertumswissenschaft Roman Imperial Coinage (ed. C.H.V.Sutherland) Thesaurus Linguae Latinae Atene e Roma L’Antiquité Classique American Journal of Roman History American Journal of Philology Aufstieg und Niedergang der römischen Welt Ancient Society Ancient World Classical Bulletin Classical Journal Classical Philology Classical Quarterly Classical Review

324 SELECT BIBLIOGRAPHY

CW G&R Gym. JRS LEC MH NC Ph. PP REA REL Rh.M RPh. SO TAPA VDI

Classical Weekly Greece and Rome Gymnasium Journal of Roman History Les Etudes Classiques Museum Helveticum Numismatic Chronicle Philologus La Pasrola del Passato Revue des Etudes Anciennes Revue des Etudes Latines Rheinisches Museum Revue Philologique Symbolae Osloenses Transactions of the American Philological Association Vestnik drevnei istorii SOURCES: EDITIONS AND COMMENTARIES

Documents Illustrating the Principates of Gaius, Claudius and Nero, comp. by M. Smallwood, Cambridge 1967 (= Smallwood). Cassius Dio, Roman History, ed. and trans. by E.Cory and H.B.Foster, vol. 1–9, The Loeb Classical Library 1914–27. Dio Chrysostom, [Works], ed. and trans. by J.W.Cohoon and H.L.Crosby, vol. 1–5, The Loeb Classical Library 1940–64. Epictetus, The Discourses As Reported by Arrian, ed. and trans. by W.Oldfather, vol. 1–2, The Loeb Classical Library 1926. Epistulae Chionis, in I.Düring, Chion of Heraclea: A Novel in Letters, Göteborg 1951. Josephus, [Works], ed. and trans. by H.St J.Thackeray, vol. 1–9, The Loeb Classical Library 1926–65. Lucian, [Works], ed. and trans. by A.M.Harmon, K.Kilburn, and M.D.MacLeod, vol. 1–7, The Loeb Classical Library 1913–61. Musonius Rufus, Discourses, in C.E.Lutz, “Musonius Rufus, the Roman Socrates,” Yale Classical Studies 10 (1947) (= Lutz). Philo, [Works], ed. and trans. by F.H.Colson, G.H.Whitaker, and R.Marcus, vol. 1–12, The Loeb Classical Library 1929–62. Philostratus, The Life of Apollonius of Tyana, ed. and trans. by F.C.Conybeare, vol. 1–2, The Loeb Classical Library 1913–61. Plutarch, Parallel Lives, ed. and trans. by B.Perrine, vol. 1–11, The Loeb Classical Library 1914–26.

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Plutarch, Moralia, ed. and trans. by F.C.Babbit and H.Cherniss, vol. 1–12, The Loeb Classical Library 1914–26. Juvenal and Persius, Satires, ed. and trans. by G.G.Ramsay, The Loeb Classical Library 1924. Lucan, Pharsalia, ed. and comm. by C.E.Haskins, intro. by H.E.Heitland, Cambridge 1897. Lucan, De Bello Ci ili, liber primus, ed. and comm. by P.Lejay, Paris 1884 (= Lejay). Lucan, De Bello Civili, liber 1, ed. and comm. by R.J.Getty, Cambridge 1940 (=Getty). Martial, Epigrams, ed. and trans. by W.C.A.Kerr, vol. 1–2, The Loeb Classical Library 1968. Minor Latin Poets, ed. and trans. by J.W.Duff and A.M.Duff, vol. 1–2, The Loeb Classical Library 1935. Octavia, ed., intro., and comm. by L.Y.Whitman, Stuttgart 1978. Petronius, Satyricon, ed. and comm. by K.Müller, Munich 1961. Pliny, Natural History, ed. and trans. by W.H.S.Jones, vol. 1–10, The Loeb Classical Library 1938–56. Pliny, Letters and Panegyric, ed. and trans. by W.Melmoth and W.M.L.Hutchinson, vol. 1–2, The Loeb Classical Library 1931–49. The Letters of Pliny. A Historical and Social Commentary by A.N.Sherwin-White, Oxford 1966 (= Sherwin-White). Quintilian, Institution of Oratory, ed. and trans. by H.H.Butler, vol. 1–4, The Loeb Classical Library 1921–36. Seneca, Apocolocyntosis, ed. by P.T.Eden, Cambridge 1984 (= Eden). Seneca, Divi Claudii Apocolocyntosis, ed. by C.F.Russo, Florence 1964 (= Russo). Seneca, Moral Epistles, ed. and trans. by R.M.Grummere, vol. 1–3, The Loeb Classical Library 1925–34. Seneca, Moral Essays, ed. and trans. by J.W.Basore, vol. 1–3, The Loeb Classical Library 1928–36. Seneca, Naturales Questiones, ed. and trans. by T.H.Corcoran, vol. 1–2, The Loeb Classical Library 1971–2. Seneca, Tragedies, ed. and trans. by F.J.Miller, vol. 1–2, The Loeb Classical Library 1917–27. Seneca Rhetor, Declamations, ed. and trans. by M.Winterbottom, vol. 1–2, The Loeb Classical Library 1974. Statius, [Works], ed. and trans. by J.H.Mozley, vol. 1–2, The Loeb Classical Library 1928. Suetonius, [Works], ed. and trans. by J.C.Rolfe, vol. 1–2, The Loeb Classical Library 1914. Suetonius’ Life of Nero. An Historical Commentary by K.R.Bradley, Brussels 1978 (=Bradley, commentary). Suetonio, De poetis e biografi minori, ed. and comm. by A.Rostagni, Turin 1944 (= Rostagni).

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Tacitus, Agricola, ed., intro., and comm. by R.H.Ogilvie and I.Richmond, Oxford 1967 (= Ogilvie-Richmond). The Annals of Tacitus, ed., intro., and comm. by H.Furneaux, vol. 1–2, Oxford 1896 (= Furneaux). Cornelius Tacitus, Annalen, ed. and comm. by E.Koestermann, vol. 1–4, Heidelberg 1963–8 (= Koestermann). Tacitus, Dialogus de Oratoribus, ed. by H.Heubner, Stuttgart 1983. P.Cornelius Tacitus, Die Historien, ed. and comm. by H.Heubner, vol. 1–4, Heidelberg 1963–76 (= Heubner). A Historical Commentary on Tacitus’ Histories I and II by G.E.F.Chilver, Oxford 1979 (= Chilver, commentary). A Historical Commentary on Tacitus’ Histories IV and V by G.E.F.Chilver and G.B.Townend, Oxford 1985 (= Chilver-Townend, commentary). SECONDARY LITERATURE Abel, K. (1967), Bauformen in Senecas Dialogen, Heidelberg. Achard, G. (1981), Pratique rhétorique et idéologie politique dans les discours “optimates” de Cicéron, Leiden. Adam, T. (1970), Clementia Principis, Stuttgart. Adams, J.N. (1974), “The Vocabulary of the Speeches in Tacitus’ Historical Works,” Bulletin of the Institute of Classical Studies of the University of London 20. Ahl, F. (1976), Lucan: An Introduction, Ithaca, NY. Alexander, W.H. (1952), “The Enquête on Seneca’s Treason,” CP 47. Alföldy, A. (1977), “Redeunt Saturnia regna,” in K.H.Kinzl (ed.), Greece and the Eastern Mediterranean in Ancient History and Prehistory. Studies Presented to F.Schachermeyr, Berlin and New York. Alföldy, G. (1985), The Social History of Rome, Princeton, NJ. Allen, W. (1962), “Nero’s Eccentricities before the Fire,” Numen 9. Ameling W. (1986), “Tyrannen und schwangere Frauen,” Historia 35. Anderson, G. (1986), Philostratus, London. Anderson, W.S. (1966), “Persius and the Rejection of Society,” Wissenschaftliche Zeitschrift der Wilhelm-Pieck Universität Rostock, Gesellschaft-& Sprachwissenschaftliche Reihe 15. Averintsev, S.S. (1972), “K istolkovaniiu simvoliki mifa ob Edipe,” in Antichnost’ i sovremennost’ Moscow (in Russian). Baldwin, B. (1967),“Executions, Trials and Punishment in the Reign of Nero,” PP 22. Baldwin, B. (1970), “Seneca’s potentia” CP 65. Baldwin, B. (1972), “Rulers and Ruled in Rome: 14–192,” Anc.Soc. 3. Baldwin, B. (1974), “Themes, Personalities, and Distortions in Tacitus,” Athenaeum 53. Baldwin, B. (1987), “Two Notes on Nerva,” The Ancient History Bulletin 1. Barnes, T.D. (1981), “Curiatius Maternus,” Hermes 109. Barrett A. (1989), Caligula: The Corruption of Power, New Haven, Conn.

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INDEX OF NAMES

Note: The Roman nomenclature under the Empire is given as in the Prosopographia Imperii Romani. Names are shown under gentilicia; persons with more than one gentilicium are listed under the first. The same applies to Greeks and freedmen, if their gentilicium is known, otherwise they appear under their given names: e.g., Narcissus. Emperors are entered under their conventional names in English, e.g., Caligula. It is similar regarding authors (with the exception of Lucan, two Senecas and Tacitus) and Romans of the Republican period: the former are registered under their conventional English names, the latter under their cognomina, in both cases followed by their full names in parentheses: e.g., Ovid (P.Ovidius Naso); Brutus (M.Iunius). The index covers names both in the test and the notes. Acerronia [Polla] (associate of Agrippina) Aemilius Pacensis (tribune of the city cohorts) 317 259 Afranius Burrus, S. 5–6, 9–10, 12–15, Acilia (mother of Lucan) 89, 97, 116, 17, 22, 27, 29, 31–8, 39, 42, 50–5, 140, 281 55, 57–6, 66, 73, 101, 107, 139, Acilius Lucanus (grandfather of Lucan) 184, 222, 249–3, 252, 255, 258–1, 275 261, 268–80, 280, 300; Acratus (agent of Nero) 82 Agrippina’s patronage of 14, 33–7; Acte see Claudia Acte career of 13–14, 58–4; Aelia Catella (octogenarian) 261 death of 58; Aelius Caesar (Ceionius Commodus, L.) denounciation of 18–1; 316 partnership with Seneca 14–15 Aelius Gallus (victim of Tiberius) 295 Afranius Quintianus 86, 91, 97, 114, Aelius Sejanus, L. xvi, xxiii, 16, 46, 55, 116 59, 66, 120–9, 165, 220, 222, 227, Agermus (Agerinus), L. (freedman of 243–8, 247, 250, 255, 286, 297, Agrippina) 31, 34 318–6 Agricola see Iulius Agricola, Cn. Aemilia Lepida (wife of Galba) 313 Aemilius Lepidus, M. (cons. AD 6) 50–5, Agrippa see Vipsanius Agrippa, M. Agrippa Postumus see Iulius Caesar, 240–5, 265, 313 Agrippa (Postumus) Aemilius Lepidus, M. (husband of Agrippina the Elder see [Vipsania] Drusilla) xxvi, 275, 313 Agrippina (the Elder) 335

336 POLITICAL DISSIDENCE UNDER NERO

Agrippina the Younger see Iulia Agrippina (the Younger) Ahenobarbus (L.Domitius, cons. 54 BC, ancestor of Nero) 253 Alcibiades 255 Alexander, Tib. see Iulius Alexander, Tib. Alexander the Great, 3, 175, 246 Alexander Lysimachus (father of Tib. Alexander) 317 Ammianus Marcellinus 304 Anicetus (henchman of Nero) 31–6, 66–3, 259, 270 Anicius Cerealis, C. 122, 135, 139, 142–3, 284, 288–9 Annaeus Cornutus, L. 55–1, 141–1, 164, 242, 265, 268, 275, 283, 288; Theologiae Graecae Compendium 142, 288 Annaeus Lucanus, M. xxvi–xxvii, 41, 56, 83, 85, 88–6, 94, 97, 101–9, 112, 114–5, 121, 140–51, 152, 166, 242, 266, 275–8, 280–1, 288, 293; Bellum Civile 85, 89–6, 152, 275–97; career of 88; death of 90; and Pisonian conspiracy 89–6 Annaeus Mela, M. 94–1, 117, 139–52, 275, 277, 288 Annaeus Seneca Jr, L. xviii, xxvi–xxvii, xxx, 5–6, 8–15, 17, 23–8, 29, 31–9, 39, 42, 44, 49–5, 53, 55, 56–2, 59–6, 65, 69–6, 73–75, 79, 81–7, 83, 86, 88, 92, 94, 97, 99–12, 107–16, 110–19, 113–2, 116–5, 119–8, 132, 135, 139–50, 143, 148, 152–5, 167, 178, 184, 186, 227–3, 231, 234, 240, 242–7, 246–63, 252, 254–71, 261–4, 264, 268–80, 271, 274–6, 277–92, 288, 291–2, 296, 300, 308, 317; Ad Polybium 11, 248; Apokolocyntosis 6, 11, 55, 248–2;

career of 9–10; De Beneficiis 14–15; De Clementia 6, 8, 10, 12–13, 49, 53, 101, 103, 153, 240, 249, 264, 288; De Constantia Sapientis 246; De Ira 141, 153; De Otio 246–60; De Tranquilitate Animi 246; De Vita Beata 23, 141, 255; death of 103–12; Epistulae Morales 102; as “minister” to Nero 10–13, 33–8; and Pisonian conspiracy 99–10; political and moral views of 11–13, 49–4, 102–10; retirement of 60–6, 81–7; and Suillius Rufus 24–8; and Thrasea Paetus 74–75; Thyestes 8 Annaeus Seneca Sr, L. (rhetor) 9, 88, 95, 140, 238, 247 Annaeus Serenus 7, 26, 246, 248 Annius Faustus (prosecutor of Vibius Secundus) 297 Annius Pollio 97, 116, 149, 183, 281–2, 292, 303 Annius Vinicianus Jr (leader of conspiracy at Beneventum) 116, 182–6, 292, 303 Annius Vinicianus Sr, L. (conspirator against Caligula) 83, 116, 183, 187, 274 Anteia (wife of Helvidius Priscus Jr) 295 Anteius Rufus, P. 17, 135–6, 141, 251, 287, 295, 297 Antistia Pollitta (wife of Rubellius Plautus) 133–3, 151 Antistius Labeo, M. (dissident under Augustus) 233 Antistius Sosianus 19, 51–9, 73, 135–7, 143, 156, 163, 166, 173, 189, 193, 228, 242, 252, 260, 265–8, 271; acting as delator 135–6;

INDEX OF NAMES 337

trial of 51–8 Antistius Vetus, L. 5, 42, 58, 63–65, 132–3, 148–9, 151, 246, 268, 287, 292, 294 Antonia (daughter of Claudius) 18, 62, 95, 128–7, 189, 275, 277, 286 Antonia Augusta (Antonia the Younger) 75, 179, 247 Antonia Caenis (mistress of Vespasian) 179, 300 Antoninus Pius 316 Antonius, M. (triumvir) 74 Antonius Felix, M. (procurator of Judaea) 247, 271 Antonius Honoratus (praetorian tribune) 223, 313 Antonius Iullus (son of Antony) 16 Antonius Naso, L. (praetorian tribune) 317 Antonius Natalis (conspirator) 91, 96–4, 99–8, 103, 114, 120 Antonius Pallas, M. (secretary freedman) 6–7, 10, 15, 18–1, 27, 69, 148, 247, 252, 271, 291–1 Antonius Primus, M. 189, 191, 193, 263, 296, 306, 317 Antonius Taurus (praetorian tribune) 317 Antony see Antonius, M. Aper, M. (in Tacitus’ Dialogus) 297 Apollonius of Tyana 118, 239, 261, 281, 287, 299 Aponius (informer) 318 Appius Iunius Silanus, C. (cons. AD 28) xxii, 240, 251 Aquilius Regulus, M. 173, 180, 186, 188–6, 218–3, 295, 304–13 Argentaria Polla (wife of Lucan) 115, 281 Aristotle 79 Arrecina Terulla (wife of Titus) 300 Arrecinus Clemens, M. (relative of Vespasian) 300

Arria the Elder 28, 56–2, 153, 165, 166 Arria the Younger see [Caecinal] Arria (the Younger) Arrian 283 Arrius Varus (officer of Corbulo) 184 Arruntius, L. (cons. AD 6) 234 Arruntius Camillus Scribonianus, M. (rebel against Claudius) 28–2, 57, 83, 153, 183, 187, 207, 245, 258, 274–6 Arruntius Stella, L. (associate of Agrippina) 251 Artemidorus (philosopher, son-in-law of Musonius Rufus) 283 Arulenus Rusticus see Iunius Arulenus Rusticus, Q. Asconius Labeo (guardian of Nero) 6, 246 Asinius Gallus, C. (cons. 8 BC) 227 Astoria Flacilla (wife of Novius Priscus) 116 Athenodotus (philosopher) 283 Atimetus (freedman of Domitia) 17, 250 Atria Galla (wife of Piso) 71, 84, 99, 115 Attalus (Stoic philosopher) 258 Augustus xiv–xvi, xxii, xxv, xxviii, xxxi–4, 10–13, 16–18, 21, 49, 55, 61–7, 67, 74, 77, 87, 121, 129, 165, 188, 198, 208, 210, 213, 224, 232–50, 241, 243–9, 248–5, 261, 264, 266, 271, 275, 286, 294, 307, 313–1; as model of imitation 3–6, 209, 313; and Senate xvi–xvii, 233–50 Avidius Quietus, T. (friend of Thrasea Paetus) 164, 295 Barea Soranus see [Marcius] Barea Soranus Berenice see Iulia Berenice Betilienus Bassus (victim of Caligula) 289

338 POLITICAL DISSIDENCE UNDER NERO

Betilienus Capito (victim of Caligula) 289 Betuus Cilo (legate of Aquitania) 309, 318 Blitius Catulinus (conspirator) 119 Boethius (Anicius Manlius Torquatus Severinus) 228, 293 Boudicca (queen in Britain) 42–8, 198, 255, 262 Britannicus see Claudius Caesar Britannicus, Tib. Brutus (M.Iunius) 46, 102, 152–3, 158–70, 171, 243, 284 Burrus see Afranius Burrus, S. Caecina Alienus, A. 174, 297, 306, 309, 314 [Caecina] Arria (the Younger) 166, 295 Caecina Paetus, A. 28–2, 56–2, 153, 165, 166, 258 Caecina Tuscus, C. (prefect of Egypt) 17, 248, 317 Caedicia (wife of Flavius Scaevinus) 115, 281 Caesar see Iulius Caesar, C. Caesellius Bassus (perpetrator of Queen Dido’s treasure hoax) 123, 284 Caesennius Gallus, A. (legate, ally of Vespasian) 300 Caesennius Maximus (friend of Seneca) 116–5, 248, 282 Caesennius Paetus, L. (cons. AD 61) 184, 300, 303 Caesennius Paetus Jr see Iunius Caesennius Paetus (Jr), L. Caesius Bassus (friend of Persius) 56 Caesonia see Milonia Caesonia Calgacus (British chieftain) 43 Caligula xvi, xxi, xxiv, xxvi, xxvii, 1–2, 4, 9, 23–6, 44, 46–1, 51, 59, 69–6, 79, 82–9, 85–2, 94, 102, 112, 116, 121, 132, 143, 179, 182–7, 207–2, 210, 223, 234, 237, 239–4, 242–8,

248, 251, 255, 260–3, 264, 268, 271, 274–6, 284–5, 288–9, 293–3, 296–6, 299, 308, 313–1, 317; assassination of 83, 94 Callistus see Iulius Callistus, C. Calpurnia (victim of Agrippina) 260 Calpurnia (wife of Iulius Caesar) 274 Calpurnia Hispulla (wife of Pliny the Younger) 131 Calpurnius Fabatus, L. (associate of Antistius Vetus) 131–40 Calpurnius Frugi Piso Licinianus, L. (Ser. Sulpicius? Piso? Galba Caesar) 42, 86, 190–4, 210–9, 222, 270, 304–13, 312–20, 315–3 Calpurnius Piso, C. (leader of conspiracy) 19, 69–6, 83–87, 91, 93, 95, 97–10, 106–14, 111, 113–3, 129–8, 243, 271, 274, 288, 302 Calpurnius Piso, Cn. (cons. 7 BC) 207, 231, 238, 275, 315 Calpurnius Piso, L. (cons. AD 57) 19, 212, 312, 315 Calpurnius Piso (Augur), L. 73, 275 Calpurnius Piso Crassus Frugi Licinianus, C. (cons. AD 87) 190 Calpurnius Piso Galerianus 115 Calpurnius Piso (Pontifex), L. 275, 286 Calpurnius Siculus 3, 87, 245, 275 Calvia Crispinilla 145, 147, 206, 298, 312 Calvisius (client of Iunia Silana) 17, 250–4 [Calvisius] Sabinus Pomponius Secundus, P. (author of tragedies) 184, 254, 294–4 Cambysus 286 Camillus (M.Furius) 209, 284 Camillus Scribonianus see Arruntius Camillus Scribonianus, M. Carrinas Secundus (agent of Nero) 82 Carrinas Secundus (Sr) (rhetor) 82, 274

INDEX OF NAMES 339

Cassius, C. (tyrannicide) 46, 130–9, 152–3, 158, 243, 284 Cassius Asclepiodotus (client of Barea Soranus) 150, 292 Cassius Chaerea 46, 92, 102 Cassius Dio Cocceianus passim, esp. ix, 92, 100, 142, 175, 232, 254–9, 286, 300–10, 304, 311, 316 Cassius Longinus, C. 46–4, 54, 58, 63, 83, 93, 129–41, 152–3, 158–70, 185, 187, 249, 263–6, 303–12, 318; career of 46–1; and slaves of Pedanius Secundus 48–3; trial of 129–41 Cassius Longinus, L. 46–1 Catiline (L.Sergius Catilina) xviii Cato the Elder (M.Porcius) 42, 132, 233 Cato the Younger (M.Porcius) xxvi–xxvii, 22, 46, 53, 56, 63, 152–4, 158–70, 167, 171, 216, 253, 265, 275, 293 Catus Deceianus (procurator in Britain) 42–7, 262 Celer, P. (procurator in Asia) 1, 23, 165, 245, 254, 294 Cervarius Proculus (conspirator) 91, 110, 120 Cestius Gallus, C. (governor of Syria) 178 Cestius Severus, [T.?] (informer) 172 Charisius (grammarian) 294 Chion of Heraclea (tyrannicide) 299 Chrysippus (Stoic philosopher) 56, 142 Cicero (M.Tullius) xv, 233, 240, 294 Cilnius Maecenas, C. 61, 87, 248, 275 Cincinnatus (L.Cintius) 199 Cingonius Varro 50, 194, 223–8, 264, 319 Claudia Acte 6–7, 12, 14–15, 26, 33, 67, 91, 246, 259 Claudia Augusta (infant daughter of Nero) 74, 159

Claudia Octavia 2, 58, 62, 65–4, 73–9, 128, 161, 239, 247–1, 268, 270, 287; trial and death of 65–4 Claudius xvi, xxii, xxv–xxvi, xxxi–11, 13, 15, 18, 21–4, 23–27, 29, 33, 40, 42, 47, 55, 57, 59, 62, 67, 71, 77, 83, 91, 95, 111, 114, 116–5, 121, 139, 141, 147–9, 153, 156, 165, 178–1, 183–7, 188–2, 197–11, 208–2, 212, 234–50, 239–7, 246–61, 251, 254–8, 258, 268, 271–3, 274–6, 277, 280, 287, 291, 293–3, 296–6, 300, 303, 313–1, 317–6; accession of 4; death of xxxi–1, 243 Claudius Balbillus, Tib. (prefect of Egypt) 251 Claudius Caecus, App. (the censor) 132 Claudius Caesar Britannicus, Tib. xxxi–1, 7–8, 10, 12, 14–15, 33, 35, 67, 180, 246, 247, 249–4 Claudius Demianus (informer) 134 [Claudius?] Doryphorus (freedman secretary) 69, 270 Claudius Drusus, Nero, the Younger (Drusus Iulius Caesar, son of Tiberius) 16, 22, 63, 242, 245, 250, 284, 318 Claudius Etruscus (freedman secretary) 247 Claudius [Iulius] Paulus (brother of Iulius Civilis) 308 Claudius Phoebus, Tib. (Imperial freedman) 127, 180–4, 298, 300 Claudius Senecio (conspirator) 6, 91–8, 97, 114, 116 Claudius Spiculus, T. (gladiator) 318 Claudius Timarchus (Cretan) 72–9, 271 Clearchus of Heraclea (tyrant) 299 Clemens (Pseudo-Agrippa) 241, 246 Cleonicus (freedman of Seneca) 82, 274 Cleopatra 74

340 POLITICAL DISSIDENCE UNDER NERO

Clodius Celsus (associate of Nymphidius Sabinus) 223 Clodius Eprius Marcellus, T. 21, 23, 145, 151, 156, 162–6, 168–6, 180, 191–6, 218–3, 241, 254, 293–3, 296–6 Clodius Macer, L. 205–20, 208, 311–19 Clodius Thrasea Paetus, P. 11, 28–4, 35–37, 39, 47–2, 52–8, 56–3, 60, 63, 69, 71–75, 83, 101, 116–5, 128–8, 132–3, 138, 148, 150–81, 171–4, 178, 180, 184, 191, 209, 225, 228, 240, 248–2, 252, 258, 260– 3, 265–8, 271, 275, 286–9, 292–5, 303, 305, 315; and affair of Antistius Sosianus 52–8; and the Cretan affair 71–7; death of 166–9; and murder of Agrippina 35–9; political and philosophical views of 30–4, 36, 53–8, 73, 152–6, 159–2; and secessio 73–76; and Syracusan affair 29–4; trial of 162–5 Clutorius Priscus (poetaster) 242, 265–8, 289 Cluvidienus Quietus (conspirator) 119 Cluvius Rufus, [M.] (historian) xxix–xxx, 126, 173, 175, 204, 216, 243, 251, 261, 289, 311 Cocceius Nerva, M. (cons. AD 26) 121 Coeranus (Stoic philosopher) 63 Columella (L.Iunius Moderatus) 141, 227 Corbulo see Domitius Corbulo, Cn. Cornelius Aquinus (legate of legion) 200 Cornelius Cinna Magnus, C. (cons. AD 5) 275 Cornelius Dolabella, C. (great-nephew of Galba) 315 Cornelius Fuscus (supporter of Galba) 309

Cornelius Gallus, C. (prefect of Egypt) 241 Cornelius Laco (praetorian prefect) 42, 212, 222, 319 Cornelius Lentulus, Cossus (prefect of the city) 285 Cornelius Lentulus Gaetulicus, Cn. (cons. AD 26) 209, 313 Cornelius Marcellus, [L.] (associate of Iunia Lepida) 131–40, 318 Cornelius Martialis (praetorian conspirator) 119 Cornelius Sabinus (conspirator against Caligula) 83 Cornelius Scipio, P. (cons. AD 56) 291 Cornelius Scipio Salvidienus Orfitus, Ser. 135–4, 186, 188, 281, 304 Cornelius Sulla, Faustus (cons. AD 31) 252 Cornelius Sulla Felix, Faustus (husband of Antonia) 18, 27–1, 42, 62, 65, 77–3, 95, 109, 113, 126, 251–5, 257, 259, 269, 275; death of 63; exile of 28 Cornelius Tacitus passim, esp. viii, ix, xviii, xxvii, xxix–xxx, 14, 43, 60, 71, 83, 94, 98, 108, 115, 121, 122, 128, 132, 135–7, 144–4, 148, 156, 182, 193, 204, 213, 226, 231–7, 242–7, 250, 252–7, 257, 260, 263–7, 268–80, 272, 274, 277, 280, 281–291, 293, 295–5, 300–10, 304– 15, 311, 313, 315–5; and documentary sources 48, 61, 64, 71, 83, 106, 115, 156, 158, 232, 264, 269, 274, 293–3 Cossutianus Capito 23, 29, 52, 59, 74, 141, 145, 151, 156–70, 162, 168, 171, 219, 254, 265, 293, 296 Cotys I (king of Bosphorus) 319 Crassus (M.Licinius, triumvir) 189, 212

INDEX OF NAMES 341

Crassus Frugi see Licinius Crassus Frugi (cons. AD 27) and Licinius Crassus Frugi (cons. AD 54) Cremutius Cordus, A. (historian) 55, 234, 243 Creperius Gallus (associate of Agrippina) 259 Crispinus (centurion) 308 Curiatius Maternus (in Tacitus’ Dialogus) xxiii, xxvii–xxviii, 22, 56, 76–2, 152, 191–5, 238, 253, 293 Curtius Montanus 162, 164, 165–8, 242, 265, 295, 305 Curtius Montanus Sr 165–8, 295, 305 Datus (actor) 37, 260, 264 Demetrius (Cynic philosopher) 118–7, 166–9, 169, 239, 248, 258, 271, 296, 299 [Didius Gallus] Fabricius Veiento, A. 54–55, 92, 143, 145–5, 189, 266 Dio Cassius see Cassius Dio Cocceianus Dio Chrysostom 118, 176–9, 283, 299, 319 Domitia (aunt of Nero) 16–17, 250–4 Domitia Lepida (aunt of Nero) 16, 243, 250–5, 270 Domitia Longina (daughter of Domitius Corbulo) 186 Domitian xxix–xxx, 45, 55, 121, 138, 153, 161, 164, 169, 172–5, 186, 191, 242, 253, 263, 274, 284, 286–8, 294–6, 299, 305, 309–18, 319 Domitius Afer, Cn. (cons. AD 39) 268 Domitius Ahenobarbus, Cn. (father of Nero) 6, 208, 246, 251, 269 Domitius Caecilianus (friend of Thrasea Paetus) 295 Domitius Corbulo, Cn. 5, 14, 23, 47, 65, 116, 137, 180, 183–9, 188, 194, 216, 246, 281, 292, 295, 303–12, 317;

and conspiracy at Beneventum 185–9; death of 186 Domitius Paris, L. (freedman actor) 250–4, 298 Domitius Silius (husband of Atria Galla) 83 Doryphorus see [Claudius?] Doryphorus Drusilla see Iulia Drusilla Drusus (son of Germanicus) see Iulius Caesar, Drusus Drusus the Younger see Claudius Drusus, Nero Ducenius Geminus, A. (prefect of the city) 315 Duvius Avitus, L. (associate of Burrus) 250 Egnatia Maximilla (wife of Glitius Gallus) 116 Egnatius Celer, P. (client of Barea Soranus) 131, 138, 149–60, 169–2, 172, 180, 193, 292, 296 Ennius, Q. 233 Epaphroditus (freedman secretary) xxiv, 96, 118, 120, 121, 223, 237, 277, 284, 320 Epicharis 94, 97–6, 107, 114, 140, 277, 283–4 Epictetus xviii, xxii, 36, 118, 154–5, 165, 239, 277, 283, 286, 295, 299 Eprius Marcellus see Clodius Eprius Marcellus, T. Eucaerus (flute-player) 66 Euphrates of Tyre (philosopher) 283, 299 Fabius Romanus (friend of Lucan) 141, 288 Fabius Rusticus (historian) xxix–xxx, 103, 109, 243, 248, 250, 268, 274 Fabius Valens 200, 202, 261, 306, 308, 314

342 POLITICAL DISSIDENCE UNDER NERO

Fabricius, C. 209 Fabricius Veiento see [Didius Gallus] Fabricius Veiento, A. Faenius Rufus, L. (praetorian prefect) 17, 92, 95, 99, 105, 107–19, 114, 119, 121–30, 126, 135, 139, 203, 220, 228, 251, 268, 279–90; and Pisonian conspiracy 107–19 Fannia (wife of Helvidius Priscus) 166, 294–4 Fannius (rebel in Gaul) 307 Fannius, C. (Stoic author) 36, 286, 288, 295 Favonius, M. (Stoic under Republic) 158, 294 Felix see Antonius Felix, M. Firmius Catus (informer) 240 Flavia Domitilla (Vespasian’s daughter) 302 Flavius Josephus xxi, 4, 20, 47, 302 Flavius Milichus [Soter] (freedman of Flavius Scaevinus) 96–4, 114, 121, 284 Flavius Nepos (praetorian conspirator) 119 Flavius Sabinus, T. (prefect of the city) 170, 179–4, 296, 300–10, 315 Flavius Sabinus Jr, T. 306 Flavius Scaevinus 91, 95, 96–4, 110, 114–4, 122, 146, 281, 288–9 Fonteius Capito 187, 200, 211, 304, 308 Fortunatus (freedman of Antistius Vetus) 134–3, 287 Frontinus (Iulius) 304 Fulcinius Trio, L. (cons. AD 31) 51, 266 Gaius Caesar see Iulius Caesar, Gaius; see also Caligula Galba xxx, 20, 27, 42, 83, 121, 153, 165, 168, 170, 179, 190–4, 194–9, 198–13, 202, 204–29, 217–3,

221–8, 263–6, 292, 296, 298, 306, 308–26; accession of 209–5; his adoption of Piso Licinianus 211–6, 213–8; career of 208–3 death of 215 Galerius, C. (prefect of Egypt) 248 Galerius Trachalus, M. (cons. AD 68) 312 Gallio see Iunius Gallio Annaeanus, L. Gallus, P. (associate of Antistius Vetus) 135 Gavius Silvanus, C. (praetorian conspirator) 92, 103, 109–18, 119, 243, 280 Gellianus (associte of Nymphidius Sabinus) 222 Gemellus, Tib. see Iulius Caesar Nero Gemellus, Tib. Gerellanus (praetorian tribune) 113, 119 Germanicus Caesar see Iulius Caesar, Germanicus Gessius Florus (procurator of Judaea) 302 Geta (Pseudo-Crassus) 190 Glitius Gallus, P. (conspirator) 97, 116, 186, 281–2, 303 Glitius Gallus Sr 281 Gracchi (Tib. Sempronius and Gaius Sempronius) 39, 294 Graptus see Iulius Graptus, Tib. Hadrian xxiv, 121, 190, 241–6, 295, 302, 316 Halotus (eunuch) 318 Heliodorus (Stoic philosopher) 131–40, 292 Helius (freedman “regent”) 1, 175, 188, 193–7, 220, 245, 298, 318 Helvidius Priscus, C. xxx, 20–3, 152, 162, 165–7, 167, 168–5, 180,

INDEX OF NAMES 343

192–6, 219, 245, 252–6, 293–6, 316, 318 Helvidius Priscus Jr, C. 167, 266, 294–4 Herennius Senecio 253 Herod Agrippa I see Iulius (Herodes) Agrippa I Herod Agrippa II see Iulius (Herodes) Agrippa II Horace (Q.Horatius Flaccus) 233 Hordeonius Flaccus (governor of Germany) 314 Hostius Quadra (sexual eccentric) 49 Icelus see [Marcianus] Icelus Ioannes of Antioch (epitomator of Dio) 199, 308 Isidorus (Cynic philosopher) 37, 260, 264 Iturius (client of Iunia Silana) 17, 250–4 Iulia (daughter of Augustus) 16, 67, 250 Iulia (daughter of Drusus the Younger) 22, 42, 262, 270 Iulia Agrippina (the Younger) xxv, xxxi–3, 6–8, 10–13, 14–18, 23, 31–7, 37, 58–4, 73–75, 77, 91, 93, 107–16, 120, 129, 136, 139, 156, 165, 180–3, 208–2, 238, 243–61, 250–4, 255–73, 263, 268, 270, 280, 287, 300; and Acte 6–7; murder of 31–8; and Nero’s accession xxxi–2; trial of 16–18 Iulia Berenice (princess of Judaea) 317 Iulia Claudia Livilla (wife of Drusus the Younger) 16, 46, 245, 251, 270, 318 Iulia Drusilla (sister of Caligula) xxvi, 46 Iulia Livilla (sister of Caligula) 9, 23, 83, 182, 255, 268 Iulia Procilla (mother of Agricola) 44, 238, 263 Iulius Africanus (orator) 260, 317

Iulius Agricola, Cn. 43–9, 50, 59, 137, 156, 184, 238, 263, 288, 296 Iulius Agrippa (conspirator) 119 Iulius Alexander, Tib. (prefect of Egypt) 179, 216–1, 313, 317 Iulius Alpinus Classicinus, C. (procurator in Britain) 43 Iulius Altinus (conspirator) 119 Iulius Augurinus (conspirator) 91 Iulius Burdo (officer of Fonteius Capito) 200, 308 Iulius Caesar, Agrippa (Postumus) xxxi–2, 8, 241, 243–8 Iulius Caesar, C. (dictator) 53, 85, 94, 156, 158–70, 197, 265, 274, 307 Iulius Caesar, Drusus (son of Germanicus) 46, 241, 255 Iulius Caesar, Gaius (grandson of Augustus) 233 Iulius Caesar, Germanicus xxvi, 8, 23–7, 33, 66, 183, 185, 202, 239, 241 Iulius Caesar, Lucius (grandson of Augustus) 233 Iulius Caesar, Nero (son of Germanicus) 286 Iulius Caesar Nero Gemellus, Tib. 1, 8, 245, 318 Iulius Callistus, C. (freedman secretary) 121 Iulius Canus (Stoic philosopher) 293 Iulius Civilis (leader of revolt in Gaul) 197, 302, 308 Iulius Classicus (leader of revolt in Gaul) 197, 308 Iulius Densus (supporter of Britannicus) 7 Iulius Florus (leader of revolt in Gaul) 197, 317 Iulius Fronto (tribune of vigiles) 317 Iulius Graecinus, L. (father of Agricola) 44 Iulius Graptus, Tib. (Imperial freedman) 27–1

344 POLITICAL DISSIDENCE UNDER NERO

Iulius (Herodes) Agrippa I (king of Judaea) 47, 317 Iulius (Herodes) Agrippa II (king of Judaea) 179, 216 Iulius Montanus, C. (dissident by misadventure) 27, 139, 257 Iulius Pollio, T. (agent of Nero) 247 Iulius Sacrovir (leader of revolt in Gaul) 197 Iulius Secundus (in Tacitus’ Dialogus) 260, 317 Iulius Ursus Severianus (relative of Hadrian) 316 Iulius Vestinus, L. (amicus of Claudius) 111, 280 Iulius Vestinus Atticus, M. (cons. AD 65) 55–86, 91, 93, 111–22, 119–8, 129, 132, 139, 145–5, 186, 242–7, 264, 280–1 Iulius Vindex, C. 121–1, 194–15, 204, 208–5, 218, 223, 242, 307–19, 314, 318–6; and Bellum Neronis 197–14; death 201 Iunia Calvina (sister of L. Iunius Silanus) 260 Iunia Lepida (wife of Cassius Longinus) 46, 131–40, 286–7, 292, 303, 318 Iunia Silana 16–19, 250–5, 280 Iunius Arulenus Rusticus, Q. 36, 72, 155, 161, 164, 172, 258, 294–4, 305 Iunius Caesennius Paetus (Jr), L. 300 Iunius Gallio (rhetor) 141 Iunius Gallio Anneanus, L. 117, 140–51, 261, 282, 288 Iunius Lupus, Tib. (prefect of Egypt) 302 Iunius Marullus, Q. (cons. AD 63) 52 Iunius Mauricus 172, 218, 297, 305 Iunius Silanus, App. see Appius Iunius Silanus, C. Iunius Silanus, L. (victim of Agrippina) 2, 77, 129, 245, 247–1, 260, 287

Iunius Silanus, M. (cons. AD 15) 44 Iunius Silanus, M. (cons. AD 46) xxxi–3, 18, 23, 77–3, 129, 165, 175, 245, 251, 254, 287, 304 Iunius Silanus Torquatus, D. (cons. AD 53) 77–3, 129, 131, 138, 272 Iunius Silanus Torquatus, L. 86, 93, 101, 129–40, 150, 152, 156, 212, 286–7, 292, 303 Iuvenalis (D. Iunius) 55, 152–3, 286 Jesus Christ 80 Josephus see Flavius Josephus Juvenal see Iuvenalis (D.Iunius) Labienus, T. (censored by Augustus) 233 Larcius [Lydus], [A.] (dissident by misadventure) 193–8 Licinius Caecina (enemy of Eprius Marcellus) 169 Licinius Crassus Frugi, M. (cons. AD 27) 189, 212 Licinius Crassus Frugi, M. (cons. AD 64) 180, 187, 189–4, 212, 270, 304, 315 [Licinius] Crassus Scribonianus 189–4 Licinius Gabolus (victim of Agrippina) 260 Licinius Mucianus, C. 115, 138, 169, 171, 173, 180, 184–8, 187, 191, 193, 212, 296, 306, 312, 316 [Licinius] Scribonianus Camerinus 190 Livia Augusta (Livia Drusilla; Iulia Augusta) xxxi–1, 13, 37, 208, 243, 255, 312–20, 317 Livia Ocellina (stepmother of Galba) 208 Livia Orestilla (wife of Piso, later of Caligula) 69, 271 Livineius Regulus (in Pompei) 41, 262 Livy (T.Livius) xxx, 233 Locusta (poisoner) 247, 318

INDEX OF NAMES 345

Lollia Paullina (wife of Memmius Regulus, later of Caligula) 51, 260, 264, 271 Lucan see Annaeus Lucanus, M. Luccius Telesinus (cons. AD 66) 287 Lucilius, C. (satirist) 55, 266 Lucilius Junior (friend of Seneca) 248 Lucius (disciple of Musonius Rufus) 283 Lucius Caesar see Iulius Caesar, Lucius Lucius Verus 316 Lusius Geta, L. (praetorian prefect) 243 Maecenas see Cilnius Maecenas, C. Maevius Pudens (agent of Tigellinus) 219 Marcia Furnilla (wife of Titus) 180, 300 [Marcianus] Icelus (freedman of Galba) 211, 316 [Marcius] Barea Soranus 116–5, 119, 129, 131, 138, 148–61, 168–1, 180, 183, 228, 269, 287, 291–3, 296, 303 Marcius Barea Sura, Q. (brother of Barea Soranus) 180 Marcius Festus (conspirator) 91 Marcus (brother of Tib. Alexander) 317 Marcus Aurelius 153 Marius, C. 132, 284 Marius Celsus, A. 50, 153, 194, 293, 306, 315 Martial (M.Valerius Martialis) 115, 117, 189, 282, 284 Martianus (gladiator) 223 Maternus (rhetor) 253, 274 Maximus Scaurus (conspirator) 92 Memmius Regulus, P. 50–5, 59, 202, 264, 271 Messalla Corvinus see Valerius Messalla Corvinus, M. Messallina see Valeria Messallina Mestrius Florus, L. (patron of Plutarch) 295 Metellus Scipio (Q.Caecilius, cons. 52 BC) 268

Milichus see Flavius Milichus [Soter] Milonia Caesonia (wife of Caligula) 23, 184 Minicius Fundanus, C. (cons. AD 107) 283 Minutius Thermus (enemy of Tigellinus) 147–8 Mitridates VIII (king of Bosphorus) 223–8, 319 Mnestor (actor) 255 Munatius Gratus (conspirator) 91 Musonius Rufus, C. 63, 117–7, 142, 149–60, 154, 169, 172, 282–3, 292, 296 Narcissus (freedman secretary) xxii, xxv, 1, 7, 13, 179–2, 243, 251 Narcissus (freedman of Nero) 318 Neophytus (freedman of Nero) 320 Nero (Nero Caesar Augustus) passim; accession of xxxi–1, 3, 245–9; downfall and death of 223; and Great Fire 80, 273; and Greek Tour 142, 174–8, 180, 182, 187–1, 193–7, 220, 298, 306, 308; personality of xxvi–xxvii, 8, 12, 38–3, 79–5, 112–1, 120, 223, 241–6, 271, 273, 320; popularity of 19, 38–3, 45–46, 54, 78–5, 95, 107, 115, 126, 175–8, 197, 214–9, 242, 245, 260, 263, 285; and Senate esp. 5–7, 20, 52–8, 65, 80, 130–9, 135, 159–1, 161–3, 193, 223 Nero (son of Germanicus) see Iulius Caesar, Nero Nerva xxix, 55, 94, 121–30, 132, 145, 166, 190, 205, 213, 215, 217, 283–4, 286, 296–6, 311, 315–3 Nonius Attianus (informer) 172

346 POLITICAL DISSIDENCE UNDER NERO

Nonius Calpurnius Aspernas, L. (governor of Galatia, Paphlagonia, Pamphilia, and Pisidia) 284, 298 Novius Priscus, D. (friend of Seneca) 116, 248, 282 Nymphidia (mother of Nymphidius Sabinus) 121, 220 Nymphidius Sabinus, C. 121, 126, 194, 206, 209, 218–8, 227, 264, 313, 318–6 Obultronius Sabinus (quaestor of AD 56) 20, 165, 318 Octavia (sister of Augustus) 18 Octavia (wife of Nero) see Claudia Octavia Octavius Sagitta (murderous tribune) 173–6, 276, 297 Octavius Titinius Capito, Cn. (secretary under Domitian, Nerva, and Trajan) 132, 153, 286 Ofonius Tigellinus 23, 29, 52, 55, 58–8, 74, 78, 92, 98, 100, 103, 107–17, 114, 120–9, 126, 137, 141, 146–7, 156, 194, 209, 218–5, 255, 268–80, 272, 283, 298, 318; career of 59–5, 268; death of 218–3 Ollius, T. (father of Poppaea Sabina) 25–9, 255 Ostorius Sabinus (informer) 148, 150, 168 Ostorius Scapula, M. 52, 135–6, 183, 251, 265, 287 Ostorius Scapula Jr, M. 137, 287 Ostorius Scapula, P. (cons. c. AD 44) 287 Otho xxx, 6, 26–27, 31, 43–8, 84, 92, 112, 139, 145, 153, 165, 169, 179, 194, 201, 205–19, 212–30, 219, 221, 223, 242–7, 255–9, 259, 263, 281, 297, 300, 309, 315–6; and amorous triangle 26–27;

and Bellum Neronis 215–30; suicide of 216 Ovid (P. Ovidius Naso) xxviii, 23, 87, 146, 233 Ovidius, Q. (friend of Caesennius Maximus) 117 Paccius Africanus, C. (informer) 172–5, 187, 298 Paconius, M. (father of Paconius Agrippinus) 165, 295 Paconius Agrippinus 154, 162, 164, 165, 295 Paetus (informer) 18–1, 252 Pallas see Antonius Pallas, M. Pammenes (astrologer) 136, 138, 287–8 Pammenes (musician) 287 Papinius, S. (victim of Caligula) 143, 288 Papirius (centurion) 312 Paris see Domitius Paris, L. Patrobius (freedman of Nero) 318 Paul, Saint 79, 81, 141, 273 Paulus Venetus (conspirator) 92 Pedanius Costa (officer of Verginius Rufus) 201 Pedanius Fuscus (relative of Hadrian) 316 Pedanius Secundus, L. (prefect of the city) 13, 45, 47–4, 66, 161, 239, 263 Pelago (eunuch) 269 Periander (tyrant of Corinth) 286 Pericles 10 Persius (Persius Flaccus, A.) xxvii, 55–57, 79, 117, 141, 164, 263, 266–9, 275 Petilius Cerealis Caesius Rufus, Q. 302, 308 Petinus (freedman of Nero) 318 Petra (brothers, victims of Claudius) 240 Petronius, P. (legate of Syria) 289 Petronius Arbiter (Petronius [Niger], T.) xxvi–xxvii, 26, 55, 79, 86, 88, 91,

INDEX OF NAMES 347

112, 121, 139, 144–8, 251, 276, 289–291; death of 146–7; Satyricon 145–7, 276, 289 Petronius Pontius Nigrinus, C. (cons. AD 37) 289 Petronius Priscus (conspirator) 119 Petronius [Sabinus] Turpelianus, P. 43, 120, 121, 168, 208, 217–2, 289, 318 Petronius Umbrinus, C. (cons. AD 25?) 289 Phaedrus 255 Phaon (secretary freedman) 223, 320 Philo of Alexandria 215, 317 Philostratus (Flavius) 118, 175, 178, 282, 287 Phoebus see Claudius Phoebus, Tib. Piso Licinianus see Calpurnius Frugi Piso Licinianus, L. Plato 13 Plautia Urgulanilla (wife of Claudius) 22, 33, 91, 260 Plautius, A. (iuvenis) 33, 91, 260 Plautius Lateranus 13, 83, 89–7 94, 110, 114, 119, 253, 260, 276–8 Plautius Pulcher, P. (brother of Plautia Urgulanilla) 260 Plautius Silvanus Aelianus, Tib. (governor of Moesia) 187, 260, 302 Plautius Silvanus Britannicus, A. 22–5, 90–7, 253, 260, 314 Pliny the Elder (Plinius Secundus, C.) xxix–xxx, 95, 125, 145, 243, 274, 277, 285, 289, 295 Pliny the Younger (Plinius Caecilius Secundus, C.) xviii, xxx, 28, 36, 52–7, 119, 131, 164, 203–18, 283, 289, 295–5, 305, 311 Plutarch (Mestrius Plutarchus) 145–5, 164, 176–9, 195, 257, 289, 299, 311–19, 314–2, 318 Pollio (disciple of Musonius Rufus) 283 Polyaenus 94, 277

Polybius (secretary freedman) xxv, 11, 248 Polyclitus (Imperial freedman) 262–5, 298, 318 Pompeia Paullina (wife of Seneca) 103–12, 116, 279 Pompeius (praetorian conspirator) 119 Pompeius (Sextus) 312 Pompeius Magnus, Cn. (husband of Antonia) 128, 189, 212, 275 Pompeius Paullinus (father-in-law of Seneca) 250 Pompey the Great (Cn. Pompeius Magnus) 3, 85–2, 95, 187, 189, 211, 217, 275, 302, 305 Pomponia Graecina 22–5, 253 Pomponius Bassus (in inscription) 253 Pomponius Graecinus, (C.?) (cons. AD 16) 253 Pomponius Rufus, Q. (governor of Moesia) 302 Pomponius Secundus, P. see [Calvisius] Sabinus Pomponius Secundus, P. Pomponius Secundus, Q. (cons. AD 41) 23, 184, 254 Pontia (in scholia) 289 Pontius (saved by slave under Tiberius) 240 Pontius Pilatus (procurator of Judaea) 80 Popilii (C.Popilius Laenas and M.Popilius Laenas, provincial governors under Republic) 234 Poppaea Sabina 25–27, 31, 58–4, 62, 66–2, 69, 74, 84, 100, 103, 107, 114, 117, 120, 127–7, 139, 156, 215– 30, 223, 243, 255–9, 259, 268, 280– 1, 286, 288, 302, 317; and amorous triangle 26–27; death of 127–6 Poppaea Sabina Sr (victim of Messallina) 26, 139, 255 Postumius, Q. (member of Arval brothers) 284

348 POLITICAL DISSIDENCE UNDER NERO

Postumus (emperor of Gaul) 307 Propertius (Sextus) 233 Protogenes (Imperial freedman) xxv Pseudo-Drusus 241 Pseudo-Neros 176, 298–8 Ptolemy (or Seleucus) (astrologer of Otho) 317 Publicius Certus (informer) 266, 295 Pylades (author of inscription) 203, 309 Pythagoras (lover of Nero) 79, 270 Pythias (maid of Octavia) 270 Quintilian (M.Fabius Quintilianus) 117, 280, 293, 317 Remmius Polemo, Q. (teacher of Persius) 55 Romanus (informer) 69–6, 86, 97, 288 Romulus 69 Roscius Coelius, M. (legate of legion) 309 Rubellius Blandus, C. (father of Rubellius Plautus) 262 Rubellius Plautus 17–18, 22, 28, 42–6, 47, 62–9, 65–1, 77–3, 107, 109, 113, 117, 132–1, 135, 149–61, 158, 212, 222, 251, 259, 262, 269, 282, 287, 292, 315; death of 63–65; exile of 42–6 Rubrius Gallus (general of Nero) 199, 208 Rufinus (rebel in Gaul) 307 Rufrius Crispinus (praetorian prefect) 26, 84, 117, 139, 142, 243, 255, 288 Rufrius Crispinus Jr 139, 288 Salienus Clemens (informer) 117, 141 Sallust (C.Sallustius Crispus) xix, 53, 265 Sallustius Crispus, C. (amicus of Augustus) 251

Sallustius Passienus Crispus, C. (husband of Agrippina) 16, 208, 251 Salvidienus Orfitus see Cornelius Scipio Salvidienus Orfitus, Ser. Salvius Otho, L. (father of Otho) 255, 317 Salvius Otho, M. (grandfather of Otho) 255, 317 Salvius Otho Titianus, L. (brother of Otho) 44 Sariolenus Vocula (informer) 172 Scribonia (wife of Crassus Frugi, cons. AD 27) 189, 212 Scribonius Libo Drusus, M. (alleged conspirator against Tiberius) 275 Scribonius Proculus (governor of Germany) 173, 186–188, 198, 209, 263, 304 Scribonius Rufus (governor of Germany) 173, 186–188, 198, 209, 263, 304 Sejanus see Aelius Sejanus, L. Seneca see Annaeus Seneca, L. Seneca the Elder see Annaeus Seneca Sr L., (rhetor) Sentius 296 Sentius Saturninus, Cn. (cons. AD 41) 83, 297 Septimius Severus xxv Servilia (daughter of Barea Soranus) 116, 131, 149–60, 183, 292–2, 296, 303 Servilius Nonianus, M. (historian) 268 Servilius Vatia (gentleman of leisure) 227 Sestius Quirinus, L. (cons. 23 BC) 286 Sextia (grandmother of Rubellius Plautus) 135 Sextius Africanus, T. (fiancé of Iunia Silana) 16, 251 Silia (associate of Petronius) 147, 291 Silius, C. (lover of Messallina) 16, 23, 250 Silius Italicus (Tib. Catius Asconius Silius Italicus) 194, 306, 312

INDEX OF NAMES 349

Socrates 105, 118, 167 Spartacus 48, 264 Spiculus see Claudius Spiculus, T. Sporus (lover of Nero) 128, 216, 223, 319–7 Statilia Messallina (wife of Vestinus Atticus, later of Nero) 112, 114, 129, 216, 243, 280–1, 286, 317 Statilius Taurus, T. (cons. AD 44) 254 Statius (C.Papinius Statius) 115, 275–7, 305 Statius Annaeus (physician) 105, 214 Statius Domitius (praetorian conspirator) 119 Statius Proximus (praetorian conspirator) 92, 110, 119, 280 Stobaeus 283 Subrius Flavus (praetorian conspirator) 80, 92–9, 100–8, 105–14, 109, 114, 119, 126, 186, 201, 214, 277–9 Suetonius (C.Suetonius Tranquillus) passim, esp. ix, xxvi, 125, 156, 182, 232, 251, 257, 272, 276, 289, 300–10, 304, 312, 314–2, 318–6 Suetonius Paullinus, C. 42–8, 58, 180, 262–6, 287 Suetonius Paullinus Jr 263, 287 Suillius Nerullinus, M. (son of Suillius Rufus) 13, 25 Suillius Rufus, P. 13, 23–8, 55, 184, 189, 254–8, 295 Sulla (P.Cornelius, dictator) 18, 62, 132 Sulpicia Praetextata (wife of Crassus Frugi, cons. AD 64) 187, 189, 191 Sulpicius Asper (praetorian conspirator) 92, 105–14, 114, 119, 126, 197, 214, 277, 280 Sulpicius Camerinus Pythicus, Q. 188–2, 304 Sulpicius Camerinus Pythicus Jr, Q. 188 Sulpicius Galba, C. (brother of Galba) 312

Tacitus see Cornelius Tacitus Tarquitius Priscus, M. (informer) 240, 254 Terentius Maximus (Pseudo-Nero) 298–8 Tetricus (emperor in Gaul) 307 Theodoric (king of Italy) 228, 293 Thrasea Paetus see Clodius Thrasea Paetus, P. Tiberius xvi, xxiii, xxv–xxvi, xxxi–1, 4, 8, 13, 21–5, 23, 26, 50, 54–55, 61, 66, 73, 80, 120–9, 141, 165, 197, 202, 208, 227, 231, 233–9, 238–5, 243–8, 247, 250, 254–9, 265, 275, 286, 294–4, 312, 314, 317; accession of xxv, 4 Tibullus (A.Albius) 87, 121 Tigellinus see Ofonius Tigellinus Timarchus see Claudius Timarchus Timocrates of Heracleia (philosopher) 283 Tiridates I (king of Armenia) 159, 183, 185, 286, 303 Titinius Capito see Octavius Titinius Capito, Cn. Titius Rufus (victim of Caligula) xx, 239 Titus 7, 180, 247, 286, 291, 298–9, 315 Trajan xviii, xxix, 53, 99, 190, 213, 248, 263, 286, 295–7, 315–3 Traulus Montanus, S. (putative husband of Calvia Crispinilla) 312 Trebellius Maximus, M. (governor of Britain) 308–17 Trebonius Garutianus (procurator of Africa) 206 Tubero (Q.Aelius) (Stoic under Republic) 158, 294 Tullius Geminus (informer) 55 Ummidius [Durmius] Quadratus, C. 184 Vacca (biographer of Lucan) 275, 280

350 POLITICAL DISSIDENCE UNDER NERO

Valeria Messallina xxii, xxv, xxxi, 7, 9, 16, 18, 22, 25, 42, 67, 83, 90, 128, 139, 147, 180, 189, 243, 247, 250–4, 253, 255, 262, 270, 297 Valerius Asiaticus, [D.] 83, 139, 147, 246, 255, 264, 274 [Valerius] Asiaticus (rebel in Gaul) 307 Valerius Capito (victim of Agrippina) 260 Valerius Messalla Corvinus, M. 87 Valerius Pollio (grammarian) 283 Valerius Probus, M. (biographer of Persius) 266 Vatinius, P. (courtier of Nero) 76, 193, 241, 253, 272 Veianus Niger (praetorian tribune) 107, 119 Verania Gemina (wife of Piso Licinianus) 305, 316 Veranius, Q. (cons. AD 49) 316 Vercingetorix 307 Verginius Flavus (teacher of Persius) 55, 117–6, 142, 282 Verginius Rufus, L. xxx, 185–187, 199–18, 210, 304, 308–18, 313–1, 318; and Bellum Neronis 200–18 Verres, C. (governor of Sicily 73–70 BC) 240 Vespasian xxv, 7, 119, 127, 132, 138, 149–60, 152–3, 165–84, 175, 178–4, 184–187, 191, 193, 194, 202, 217, 252, 275, 280, 286, 291, 293, 295–5, 299–10, 305, 311, 315, 318; career as privatus 178–4, 299–9 Vestinus Atticus see Iulius Vestinus Atticus, M. Vibius Priscus, Q. 145, 173, 187, 192, 218, 254, 272, 297–7 Vibius Secundus (brother of Vibius Crispus) 254 Vibullius (praetor AD 56) 19, 51, 252 Vindex see Iulius Vindex, C.

Vinicius, M. (husband of Livilla) 83, 182, 269 Vinia Crispina (daughter of T.Vinius Rufinus) 213, 219, 318 Vinius Rufinus, T. 205, 209–4, 212–7, 219, 222, 306, 314, 318 [Vipsania] Agrippina (the Elder) 66, 239, 270, 286 Vipsanius Agrippa, M. 61, 248 Vipstanus Messalla, L. (cons. AD 48) 305 Vipstanus Messalla, M. (step-brother of Aquilius Regulus) 189, 193, 305 Virgil (P.Vergilius Maro) 292 Vistilia (lady of six husbands) 23, 184, 254, 281, 295, 303 Vistilius, S. (victim of Tiberius) 241 Vitellius xxx, 40, 54, 153, 165, 180, 190, 194, 205, 211, 217, 242, 246, 248, 261–4, 265, 300, 307–16, 311, 313–1, 319 Vitellius, L. (father of Vitellius) xxiv, 40, 180, 184, 297, 300 Volusius Proculus (admiral) 95, 97, 259, 277 Vulcacius Araricus (conspirator) 91 Vulcacius Tullinus (associate of Iunia Lepida) 131–40

INDEX OF SUBJECTS

adulatio xviii–xix, 3–5, 11, 21, 35–9, 47, 51, 66, 69, 72–9, 76, 86, 103, 113, 121–1, 135, 172, 193, 222, 238, 284, 292 adultery xxv, 6–7, 9, 13, 16, 23, 25–27, 33, 51, 58–4, 66–3, 69–6, 84, 90–7, 108, 112, 114, 129, 131, 139, 215–30, 241, 245–61, 250, 255–9, 260, 268–81, 271, 280–1, 287 amici principis xxiv, 4–5, 9, 12, 26, 34, 55–55, 67, 91, 113, 126, 141, 194, 241, 248, 250, 280, 287, 293 animus nocendi xxix, 31, 41, 56, 72, 122, 142, 151, 155, 163, 242, 268, 295, 299 astrology 136, 150–1, 287–8, 292–2

198, 202, 210–5, 213, 215, 225, 246, 276, 311, 314 delatores xxii–xxiii, 4, 19, 23–6, 29, 46, 52, 55, 58–4, 121, 125, 127, 130, 136–7, 147–8, 150–1, 156, 158, 162–4, 168–6, 180, 186–193, 218–3, 226, 240, 254, 285, 296–7, 304; campaigns against 23–6, 168–6, 191–6, 217–3, 240–5, 254, 296–6, 305–14, 318 dignitas xv–xvi, xxv, 13, 24, 29, 35, 47, 52, 64, 72, 74, 134, 153–4, 159, 161, 167, 170, 226, 239, 249, 292 dissidents passim; “aesthetic” 142, 145–6, 180, 295, 298, 300; by misadventure 27, 139, 194, 226, 250; definition of viii; “dynastic” xxv–xxvi, 1–3, 41, 42–6, 46, 62–8, 65, 67, 77–3, 83, 86, 120, 128–8, 133, 139, 152, 182–6, 208, 212, 225, 241, 264, 269, 274; “hereditary” 1–2, 28, 42, 44, 130, 165, 183, 189, 245, 255, 268; religious 22–5, 247, 253; “sexual” 26, 112, 139, 145, 213, 215, 225, 247; see also moralism, opportunism

beneficium 15, 33, 44, 90, 95, 136, 204, 219, 235–1, 239–5, 248, 268, 277; see also patronage censorship xxviii–xxix, 55, 89, 166, 233, 242–7, 279 Christians xxx, 53, 80–6, 155, 253, 273, 302 clientela 63, 66, 84–1, 134–3, 142, 150, 157, 190, 235, 240–5, 270, 272, 292, 313; see also patronage collaborationism see opportunism “constitutionalism” 4–5, 11, 29, 52, 57, 73, 88, 90, 95, 101, 153, 167, 170, 351

352 INDEX OF SUBJECTS

dissimulatio passim, esp. xix–xxvi, 8, 29, 50–5, 59, 113, 133, 138, 190, 193, 194–9, 211, 226–2, 238, 258; Agricola and 44; Barea Soranus and 149; Burrus and 14, 58; Cassius Longinus and 47, 130; Christians and 80; definition of xix, 238–3; delatores and xxiii, 23, 55, 135, 143, 149, 168–3, 174, 219–4; “dynastic” dissidents and xxvi, 2–3, 8, 27–1, 42, 63, 65, 77–3, 132, 139; emperors and xxvi, 241; equites and xxi, 140; Faenius Rufus and 107–19, 203–17; Galba and 209–3; Greek philosophers and 118, 177–90, 282; Jews and 181–5; Lucan and 88; military and 14, 107, 137, 183, 185, 197, 227; Nero and 61, 75, 260, 269; Nerva and 121–30; Otho and 27, 215; Persius and 56; Petronius and 144–7, 291; Pisonian conspirators and 71, 91–8, 95, 98; Seneca and 12, 61, 75, 82, 103, 269; Thrasea Paetus and 29, 35, 72–8, 75, 155, 159, 161, 167; Verginius Rufus and 203–17; Vespasian and 180, 181; Vindex and 198 dynasty see Imperial family equites xx–xxi, 11, 55, 83, 91, 111, 117, 126, 131, 135, 139–9, 148, 162, 193, 202, 220, 226, 239, 261, 279,

283, 286, 296, 298, 302, 312, 316–4, 319 existimatio passim, esp. xxiv–xxvi, xxviii, 30, 31–6, 37, 39, 65, 78, 85–2, 95, 115, 121, 177, 181, 203, 209, 214, 241, 319; definition of xix, 238; delatores and 25, 135, 191; “dynastic” dissidents and xxv–xxvi, 2–3, 27, 41–5, 62–8; emperors and xxv–xxvi; Galba and 209–3; military and 106, 185, 187, 220, 307; Nero and xxvi, 37, 79, 155–6, 223, 260; Seneca and 12, 25, 49; Thrasea Paetus and 73, 155–6 freedmen 13, 17, 45, 48, 50, 77, 95, 96–5, 121, 131, 147–8, 193, 211, 262, 279, 287, 298; Imperial xxv, 4, 6, 45, 48, 69, 96, 120, 121, 127, 134–3, 148, 180–4, 188, 193, 209, 218, 223, 241, 270–2, 277, 284, 297–7, 316, 318, 320 Greeks xxi, xxx, 38, 76, 79, 82, 105, 131, 142, 148, 150, 153, 167, 174–90, 181, 193–7, 195, 233, 238–3, 242, 248, 261, 272–5, 292, 297 Imperial family xxv–xxvi, xxxi–9, 15–18, 22–5, 24–28, 31–8, 41–6, 46, 51, 58–4, 61–71, 74, 77–3, 83, 85–2, 89, 95, 114, 127–7, 132–7, 139, 179–2, 208–2, 213–8, 216, 221–7, 224, 241–8, 247–1, 250–5, 255–71, 262, 264, 268–83, 274–7, 280–1, 286–8, 312–24; see also dissidents: “dynastic”

POLITICAL DISSIDENCE UNDER NERO 353

interpretatio prava xxvii–xxviii, 122, 151, 242, 299 Jews and Judaism xxi, xxx, 80, 141, 178, 180, 181–5, 216–1, 247, 253, 300–10, 317 “legalism” 4–5, 28–2, 52–7, 90, 225; see also “constitutionalism” libertas xv–xvi, 4, 29, 35–9, 90, 99, 112, 135, 228, 231, 234–50, 253, 260, 276–8, 296, 307, 314; see also republicanism loyalism 14–14, 43–8, 50–5, 58–4, 153, 173, 179, 184–8, 194, 203, 219, 226, 240, 286, 309–18; see also opportunism maiestas xxii–xxiii, xxv, 4, 52, 54, 58, 133, 136, 150, 162, 166, 231, 240, 242, 246, 248, 254, 261, 264–7, 271, 281, 284–5, 292–2, 304, 319 military 14, 16, 98, 137, 183, 185, 187–1, 195–10, 227, 235–1, 241, 283, 306; and Bellum Neronis 195–10, 201–20, 210–30, 218–8, 305–25; and Pisonian conspiracy 92–94, 99–8, 103, 105–19, 114, 119, 277–9; praetorian guards 14, 33–7, 41, 83, 92–94, 98–8, 103, 105–19, 113–2, 119–30, 126–5, 139, 161–3, 209, 214–9, 219–8, 249–3, 252, 259, 279, 283, 285–6, 294, 316–7; provincial armies 5, 42–9, 83, 137–7, 178–2, 181, 182–188, 195, 200–26, 215–31, 247, 262–5, 271, 279–90, 287, 299–12, 306–24; and Vinician conspiracy 182–6, 187, 302 moralism 4, 28–2, 38–2, 42, 44, 47–2, 50, 57, 63, 73, 75, 83, 97–5, 100,

102, 105–14, 120, 130, 133, 153–6, 158, 163, 167–80, 170, 178, 184, 189, 192–6, 198, 209, 211–8, 220, 225–1, 228, 240, 271–3; see also multi bonique mos maiorum xv–xvi, xxii–xxiii, xxviii, 14, 20, 22, 38–3, 42, 44, 47–2, 50, 52–7, 63–9, 72, 79, 89–6, 99, 106–14, 130–9, 133, 135, 150, 153–4, 157, 181, 184, 189, 192, 209, 212, 223–9, 234, 249, 264, 277, 320; see also dignitas; moralism; pietas multi bonique xxii–xxiv, 4, 23, 25, 39, 58–4, 127, 132, 137, 148, 169, 172, 189, 191, 209, 218, 225, 240, 258, 268, 303 opportunism xviii–xix, xxii–xxiv, 9–12, 14, 26, 29–3, 33–7, 36, 39–3, 46–1, 49, 51, 53, 55, 58–4, 75, 121–30, 131, 133, 136, 142, 149, 163, 169–3, 173–6, 189, 204, 212, 216, 226, 268, 309; see also adulatio; delatores; pauci et validi patronage xx, 14, 28, 33–7, 39, 59, 63–9, 66, 84, 87, 94–1, 96, 107, 131, 147, 156–8, 208, 224–40, 234–50, 239, 241–6, 248, 250, 254, 265, 279, 283–4, 294, 299, 311; see also beneficium; clientela pauci et validi xxii–xxiv, 9, 23, 40, 55, 121, 168, 174, 189, 205, 219, 225, 240, 268, 297, 306, 314; see also delatores pietas xv–xvi, xxii, 14, 106, 151, 165, 193, 293, 306

354 INDEX OF SUBJECTS

popular discontent 41, 45, 47, 50, 66–2, 107, 161, 218–3, 230, 238, 251, 261–4 provincials xxi, 13, 23, 25, 29, 42–7, 72, 195–10, 206, 209–5, 227, 254–8, 271, 273, 292, 306, 308–17, 311, 313 republicanism 19–2, 22, 29–3, 46–1, 63, 72, 83, 88, 90, 130–41, 152–3, 158–70, 172, 197, 207, 210, 213, 215, 224–41, 233, 250, 253, 276–8, 282, 286, 293, 297 secessio xviii, 35, 37, 60, 73, 82, 148, 152, 155, 156, 160–6, 178, 226, 271, 294 Senate passim, esp. 11, 19–5, 28–4, 35–9, 38–4, 45, 47–4, 58–4, 65, 69, 71–7, 81, 88–5, 95, 99, 117, 122, 125–4, 128–7, 138, 154, 158–72, 177, 181, 215–30, 222, 223–41, 252, 260–3, 263, 284, 291–1, 296–6, 314, 316; as court 45, 47–8, 72, 131–41, 138, 148–61, 162–5, 165–8, 264–7, 286, 295; and delatores 23–8, 168–5, 191–7, 240, 254, 296–7, 305–14; and equites xx–xxi, 91, 168, 239; and emperors xvi–xxiii, 4–5, 233–52; and military 83–9, 92, 101, 201–15, 207, 210–5, 279, 303, 312, 314; and Nero 5–7, 20, 52–8, 65, 80, 130–9, 135–4, 161–3, 193, 223, 242, 246, 271, 281, 319–7; and Thrasea Paetus 35–9, 72–8, 155, 258, 260, 265–8, 271, 294; see also adulatio; “constitutionalism”; multi bonique; pauci et validi;

secessio Stoicism xix, 12, 63–65, 83, 102–10, 117–7, 131–40, 140–51, 149, 153, 158, 177–90, 224, 227, 248–2, 258, 260, 268–80, 279, 282–3, 286, 287–294; Barea Soranus and 149–60, 293; Persius and 55–1; Rubellius Plautus and 42, 63–65; Seneca and 9, 12–13, 101–12, 247–2, 279; L.Silanus Torquatus and 131–40; Thrasea Paetus and 153–5, 167, 248, 293 traditionalism see moralism