If, in the text of Cato V, the name
“Caesar” was meant to remind his readers of the immanent peril which lay behind
the belief that Americans were somehow inherently, unchangeably virtuous, then
George Clinton’s concomitant references to, “Caligula, Nero, and Domitian” were
almost certainly intended to call to mind the dividends that this kind of delusion
had historically paid. These three names, of course, were those of three Roman
Emperors. In point of fact, they were the names of three of the most reviled
Emperors in the history of the ancient Roman civilization. Caligula was thought
to be insane, capricious, and self-absorbed, Nero, cruel and vain, and
Domitian, despotic and egotistical. Among the rulers of the ancient Roman state
– a cohort that could hardly be said to embody the values of moderation,
virtue, and equality at its best – these men have been held by contemporary
commentators and generations of historians in particularly low regard. By
grouping them with Caesar, Clinton accordingly seemed to be indicating a sense
of equivalency. There were all terrible, to his thinking, and they were all
archetypes of leadership which the American republic would have done well to
avoid. There was, of course, a difference between Caesar and the rest. Indeed,
it would seem a very important one. Whereas Caesar, by crossing the Rubicon
with his army in 49 BC, brought about the collapse of the Roman Republic – thus
making himself into a cautionary symbol for subsequent generations of
republicans – Caligula, Nero, and Domitian each inherited the authority which
they later became notorious for abusing. If Caesar, therefore, was the
embodiment of republican government’s latent capacity for self-destruction,
then Caligula, Nero, and Domitian were what was likely to follow once the dust
had settled and liberty had wholly given way to tyranny.
As to the men
themselves, the details of their lives and reigns are admittedly somewhat more
complicated than the late 18th century Anglo-American imagination
would have preferred to admit. Take the first of their number as a case in
point. Born into the ruling Julio-Claudian dynasty as Gaius Caesar – after one
Julius Caesar – Caligula (12-41 AD) was the son of general Germanicus Julius
Caesar (15 BC – 19 AD) who gained his famous moniker – literally “little boots”
– from his mother’s habit of dressing him as a child in a miniature version of
the standard Roman soldier’s garb, complete with tiny caligae sandals. But while Germanicus was an exceptionally
successful military leader and a popular hero to the Roman people – to the
point of being favorably compared to Alexander the Great (336-323 BC) – his son
showed the worst aspects of the populist and the autocrat in his treatment of
the Senate, his use of the Roman treasury, and his personal style as a ruler.
His early reign,
to be fair, started off promising enough. Indeed, upon inheriting absolute rule
of the Roman state from his predecessor and great-uncle Tiberius (42 BC-37 AD),
Caligula was regarded by the Roman people as something of a savior. In part,
this was a reflection of the love which was still widely held for his late
father, though it also stemmed from the simple fact that he was not Tiberius. Whereas
the late ruler had been an aloof, secretive figure, Caligula was generous and
paternal. To that end, soon after his ascension, he granted bonuses to the
military, declared the end of the treason trials used by Tiberius to undermine
his enemies, granted relief to those who had suffered as a result of recent tax
increases, and put on a serious of lavish festivals and games for the enjoyment
of the masses. The following year (38 BC) he began to pursue a course of
financial transparency – making the records of the treasury public for the
first time in two decades – abolished certain taxes, and restored democratic
elections for Rome’s various magistrates. The Roman people were happy, it was
said, and the new ruler seemed to be ably fulfilling his responsibilities –
i.e. public generosity, piety, prudence, etc. – as established by his ancestor
Augustus (63 BC-14 AD).
Matters began to
turn sour, however, after Caligula suffered a brief but serious illness in the
seventh month of his reign. He recovered physically after a fairly short
convalescence, but his mood was never quite the same. In 39 BC, for example,
the new ruler’s efforts to buy the support he needed from the military and the
Senate brought about a financial crisis which he sought to escape by accusing wealthy
individuals of some manner of crime so that they could either be fined or their
estates seized entirely. When this proved inadequate, he proceeded to levy a
whole host of new taxes, began selling the lives of gladiators at public games,
had wills reinterpreted so that property left to Tiberius would instead go to
him, and had land claimed by army officers as plunder turned over to the
treasury. At around this same time, and in spite of the outwardly dire
financial conditions of his administration, Caligula also began a series of
building projects whose purposes were often plainly self-serving. He had
harbors in Calabria and Sicily improved, it was true, allowing for increased
grain imports, and build temples, and aqueducts, and new and better roads. But
he also had a two-mile long pontoon bridge built from Baiae to Puteoli – two
settlements on the shore of the same bay – just so that he could defy a
prediction made by his predecessor’s soothsayer, and later ordered the
construction of two massive, lavish ships – complete with marble floors and
indoor plumbing – to act as floating palaces.
In the two years
that preceded his death in 41 BC, Caligula’s behavior only became more
egocentric. His relationship with the Senate began to deteriorate in 39 BC. Having
grown accustomed to governing Rome almost entirely on their own following the
departure of Tiberius to his self-imposed exile on the island of Capri in 26
BC, the Senate often disagreed with Caligula, leading the Emperor to conclude
that certain of their number were disloyal and in need of removal. A number of
Senators were subsequently investigated and put to death; others were degraded
by being made to wait on Caligula or to run alongside his chariot. More
executions followed as the Emperor began to perceive conspiracies around every
other corner. He had his brother-in-law, Marcus Aemilius Lepidus (6-39 AD),
killed for plotting to overthrow him. Gnaeus Cornelius Lentulus Gaetulicus
(??-39 AD), Senator and Governor of Germania Inferior, met the same fate for
the same reason. Then, in 40 BC, Caligula began appearing in public in the
guises of Hercules, Mercury, Venus, and Apollo; he asked to be referred to as a
god, had temples erected in his honor in Rome and in Jerusalem, and declared
himself Neos Helios, the “New Sun.” Later
that same year, evidently because the cultural environment of Rome did not suit
his ambitions, he went so far as to declare that he intended to leave Italy
permanently and settle in Alexandria where he hoped to live out the rest of his
life being worshiped as a living deity. Because this would have placed him
almost completely beyond the control of the both the Senate and the Praetorian
Guard – an organization which, in spite of its formal role as the Emperor’s
bodyguard had amassed significant political power during the exile of Tiberius –
it was decided by a small cadre of conspirators to bring a decisive end to his
reign while they still had the chance. On January 22nd, 41 BC, Guard
tribune Cassius Chaerea (??-41 BC) accordingly led a team of his subordinates
in accosting and stabbing Caligula to death while he addressed a group of
actors in the basement of the imperial palace. Caligula’s uncle Claudius (10
BC-54 AD) became Emperor thereafter, having escaped his nephew’s suspicion by
becoming the young man’s favored target for humiliating practical jokes.
Following the
comparative respite represented by the relatively successful – if always at
least mildly unstable – rule of Claudius between 41 and 54 AD, the ascension of
Nero (37-68 AD), known at birth as Lucius Domitius Ahenobarbus, arguably marked
something of a return to the eccentricity and self-obsession which had
characterized the brief administration of Caligula some thirteen years prior. The
last of the Julio-Claudians to rein over Rome, Nero came to power aged only
sixteen years and spent the early part of his administration under the close –
one might say suffocating – direction of his mother, Agrippina the Younger
(15-59 AD). In spite of the tensions that this power dynamic inspired, however
– Agrippina often had potential rivals for influence at the imperial court
killed, succeeded in having her face depicted on coins alongside her son, and
even convinced the Senate to grant her bodyguards – Nero showed himself during
the first several years of his reign to be a fairly restrained ruler who was
only minimally interested in politics. In his first speech to the Senate, for
example – prepared for the young monarch by his tutor, the philosopher and
dramatist Seneca the Younger (4 BC-65 AD) – he promised to do away with the
secretive proceedings that had characterized the reigns of Tiberius, Caligula,
and (ultimately) Claudius, vowed to eliminate corruption and the influence of
court favorites, and swore always to respect the autonomy of the Senate and the
privileges of the individual Senators. The stability which characterized the
next several years seemed to prove out the truth of these claims, though most
modern scholars agree that the aforementioned Seneca and Sextus Afranius Burrus
(1-62 AD), the Prefect of the Praetorian Guard chosen for her son by Agrippina,
were almost certainly responsible for the direction and tenor of Nero’s early
rule.
This all changed
– quite understandably – in 59 AD when Nero had his mother killed. The reasons
for his turn to matricide are not entirely clear. Roman historian Tacitus
(56-120 AD), writing decades after the fact, claimed that the inciting
circumstance was Agrippina’s disapproval of her son’s ongoing affair with a
wealthy and ambitious woman named Poppaea Sabina (30-65 AD). While there may
have been something to this – Nero did eventually marry Poppaea following his
mother’s demise, though not until 62 AD – modern scholars tend to agree that
Tacitus was more than likely grasping at straws for the lack of a more
convincing explanation. In reality, Nero likely as not had his mother killed
simply because, at twenty-one years of age, he had grown tired of being treated
as an instrument of someone else’s ambition and desired instead to rule fully
and completely at his own behest. While this outcome may have served Nero
reasonably well, however, it didn’t do very much for the quality of his rule.
On the contrary, his previous sense of restraint very quickly gave way to
unpredictability and excess as he trampled successively on the accustomed
prerogatives of the Roman Senate and then on the traditions and mores of Roman
culture. This was aided in part by the death of Burrus – possibly by way of
poison – in 62 AD, an event which was followed by the execution of his cousins
and potential rivals for the imperial throne, Faustus Cornelius Sulla Felix
(22-62 AD) and Gaius Rubellius Plautus (33-62 AD), the isolation and exile of
Seneca, and the divorce, banishment and execution of his wife, Claudia Octavia
(40-62 AD). Owing to the impunity with which Nero now felt free to act, the
next several years – from about 64 AD to 69 AD – were accordingly chaotic,
destructive, and bloody.
64 AD, of
course, was the year of the Great Fire of Rome, the single event with which
Nero’s reputation as a tyrant is most closely associated. Roman historians who
were particularly inclined to distrust him – like Seutonius (69-122 AD) and
Cassius Dio (155-235 AD) – wrote that he started the fire himself in an effort
to clear space in the city for a grand palace complex and was seen reciting
epic poetry while dressed in stage costume as the week-long blaze destroyed
entire districts. The aforementioned Tacitus, while not going so far as to
absolve Nero of any blame at all, was significantly more generous in his
recording of events. First, he avowed, the Emperor wasn’t even in the city at
the time of the fire, having departed to Antium – now Anzio, where he was born
– sometime prior. Second, upon hearing of the disaster, Nero returned to Rome
immediately, began organizing relief efforts, opened his palaces to those
rendered homeless by the blaze, and ensured – at his own expense – that
adequate food was provided so that no one affected would be at risk of
starvation. Then, in order to ensure that a disaster of such tremendous scale
would never happen again, he moved forward with an extensive plan of urban
development employing wider streets and the extensive use of brick as a
fireproof building material. The end result, notwithstanding the destruction
that had to precede it, was a safer, cleaner, and more sensibly laid out
city.
The cost of such
an undertaking was understandably tremendous, however, and Nero was forced to
exact tribute from Rome’s various outlying provinces and to devalue the Roman
currency for the first time in the history of the Empire in order to pay for it
all. But while the relief and reconstruction efforts were doubtless considered
to be a worthy undertaking, it bears noting that the Emperor also took the
opportunity afforded by the fire to build for himself a vast, landscaped palace
in the heart of the ancient city. The resulting Domus Aurea or “Golden House” was a sprawling complex that included
an artificial lake, a vineyard, pastures, livestock, and a nearly one hundred
foot tall bronze statue of Nero dubbed the Colossus
Neronis. That Nero felt comfortable having his name and reputation attached
to such a blatantly self-aggrandizing project would seem to call into question
the sincerity of his efforts during the immediate aftermath of the fire, or at
the very least to complicate them substantially. What kind of man expends his
own resources offering relief to the destitute and the homeless one moment and
builds a massively expensive monument to his own ego the next? It is, in truth,
rather difficult to say, save to affirm it’s the kind of person Nero was. He
could be generous and charitable, as when he directed treasury funds towards public
works projects or tax relief. Through these polices, and his love of theatre,
music, and games, Nero made himself a favorite of the Roman people This was
particularly true in the empire’s eastern provinces, of whose language (Greek)
and culture he was especially fond. But he could also be suspicious to the
point of paranoia, and often so self-obsessed as to become disconnected from
reality. Ironically enough, it was the former trait which, far from allowing
him to stave off conspiracy and rebellion, likely hastened and multiplied both
to the point of causing his eventual downfall.
In a terminal
acceleration of the circumstances of his early reign, Nero’s final years
witnessed a number of hasty trials, executions, and forced suicides as the
Emperor’s enemies began to move against him with distinctly mixed success. The
first of these attempted coups reached its final phase in 65 BC and was led by
a powerful and influential senator named Gaius Calpurnius Piso (??-65 AD). The
plan was simple enough. After having Nero assassinated with the assistance of
certain well-placed figures in the Roman military, Piso would be conducted to
the headquarters of the Praetorian Guard, whose co-leader, Faenius Rufus (??-65
AD), would then proclaim him Emperor. Piso was to be aided in his efforts by a
number of soldiers, senators, and Praetorians, and his acclamation as Emperor
made possible by the mounting unpopularity of Nero himself. As it happened,
however, a woman named Epicharis (??-65 AD), who favored the conspiracy but
felt it moved too slowly, ended up alerting Nero to the proceedings when she
tried to initiate a naval officer into the plot who promptly notified imperial
authorities. Epicharis was promptly seized and tortured, later killing herself
in captivity. Piso and his co-conspirators – some forty in number – were
subsequently executed or else forced to commit suicide. While Nero’s former
tutor and confidante Seneca was not formally a member of this cohort, he was
likewise made to take his own life – along with his nephew, the poet Lucan
(39-65 AD) – for failing to alert the Emperor despite having known of the plot.
The defeat of
Piso’s conspiracy served only as a temporary reprieve, however, from the fate
which had arguably been barreling down on Nero since he did away with his
mother in 59 AD and began ruling on his own. While a significant portion of the
Roman people remained relatively pleased with his administration of the Empire
– again, particularly in the East – the upper classes in Rome proper and its
various outlying territories had grown increasingly frustrated by the
exorbitant tribute which had been extracted from the provinces in order to pay
for his monumental domicile, and increasingly disconcerted by his treatment of
the Senate and his generally disgraceful behavior. Not only had Nero murdered a
number of his relatives and ordered the summary execution of many of his
opponents, but – in defiance of what was at that time considered to be morally
appropriate behavior for an Emperor – he had also undertaken a public marriage
to a former slave named Pythagoras during a Saturnalia festival in 64 AD. In
consequence of these actions – among others – the governors of Gallia
Lugdunensis – Gaius Julius Vindex (25-68 AD) – and Hispania Tarraconensis –
Servius Sulpicius Galba (3 BC-69 AD) – rose up in rebellion against Nero in 68
AD, with the latter even going so far as to declare himself Emperor. While the
immediate effect of this uprising was not wholly disastrous, with the Governor
of Germania Superior, Lucius Verginius Rufus (15-97 AD), successfully defeating
Vindex in battle and forcing the latter’s suicide, events rather quickly
spiraled almost completely out of control.
Sensing the
opportunity at their disposal, and doubtless influenced by Galba, the armies
under the command of Verginius used the occasion of his victory over Vindex to
declare their general Emperor in turn. While Verginius refused the honor, the
mere fact of a second man having contemplated the imperial dignity in addition
to Nero led to the rapid erosion of what was left of the latter’s legitimacy. Support
for Galba increased, the Praetorian Guard deserted, and Nero ultimately found
himself vacillating between plans for exile, surrender, or suicide. For a time,
he even contemplated fleeing to the east, relinquishing the throne, and begging
Galba to be made governor of Aegyptus in exchange for abandoning all claim to
the imperial office. Such was not to be, however. Events simply moved too fast. Mistakenly informed that the Senate had
declared him a public enemy and was preparing to dispatch armed men to the
imperial palace to drag him back to the Forum, Nero took refuge in villa just
outside the city with a small group of loyal freedmen and – either on his own
or with assistance – took his own life. When word reached the Senate of what
had happened, the assembled Senators – who, wishing to preserve the bloodline
begun by the deified Augustus, had actually sought to negotiate a settlement
between Nero and the rebels – proclaimed Galba as the new Emperor, the first of
four who would ultimately reign in the year 69 AD.
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