Political Dissidence Under Nero

The Price of Dissimulation

Vasily Rudich

• Publisher: Routledge
• Year: 2005
• ISBN:
  9781134914517
• Edition: 1
• Topic: History
• Subtopic: Ancient History
• Index: History

Vasily Rudich examines dissidence under Nero from both historical and psychological perspectives and inquires into the balance of the universal and historically conditioned components of political behaviour. The careers of numerous dissident individuals and their attempts at accomodation to a hostile reality are discussed.

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.; 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 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.

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.

“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:

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 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 t...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Halftitle
• Title
• Copyright
• Dedication
• Contents
• Preface
• Acknowledgments
• Introduction: The Age of Dissimulation
• 1 The Years of Expectation
• 2 The Years of Frustration
• 3 The Years of Action
• 4 The Years of Decimation: I
• 5 The Years of Decimation: II
• 6 The Year of Revolution
• Conclusion
• Notes
• Select bibliography
• Index of names
• Index of subjects