The History of Rome: Rise and Fall of the Empire. John Bagnell Bury
Messalina indulged her amorous caprices, Narcissus and Pallas built up such great fortunes, that when Claudius once complained of want of money, he was told that he would be rich enough if those two freedmen took him into partnership.
The position of Messalina seemed secured by the circumstance that she had borne her husband a son, Tiberius Claudius Germanicus, who afterwards received the name Britannicus in memory of the conquest of Britain. He was born in February, shortly after his father’s accession, and this was the first case of a son born to a reigning Caesar. But Claudius declined the proposal to confer either upon his son the title Augustus, or upon the Empress that of Augusta. But although Messalina was not raised to the rank which had been held by Livia, she received conspicuous honor by the decree which permitted her to ride in thecarpentum, the use of which was still generally restricted to persons holding priestly offices at solemn festivals. A like permission had been already granted to the Emperor’s mother Antonia.
It has been already stated that Claudius recalled his nieces, Julia and Agrippina, from exile. Agrippina’s husband, Cn. Domitius Ahenobarbus, was dead, and sometime after her return she married Crispus Passienus. Julia was espoused to M. Vinicius. Both ladies were young and attractive; and, as the daughters of Germanicus and sisters of Gaius, they both exercised influence and awakened suspicion at the court of Claudius. Agrippina avoided the dangers which surrounded her, but Julia’s marked attentions to her uncle excited the jealousy of Messalina; she was driven again into banishment, and died of starvation. The philosopher Seneca noted for his wealth as well as for his writings, was banished at the same time to Corsica, as a lover of Julia; but, strange to say, his estates were not confiscated. In the following year (42 A.D.) a far more glaring act of injustice was committed to satisfy the vengeance of Messalina. A distinguished nobleman, Appius Silanus, of the Jullian gens, had rejected the licentious advances of the Empress, and she determined to destroy him, although he had been recently married to her mother Domitia Lepida. As there was no possible ground of charge against him, Messalina and her accomplice Narcissus devised a curious plot. Narcissus entered the Emperor’s chamber early one morning, and told in accents of alarm that he had dreamt the previous night that Claudius was murdered by Silanus. Messalina then said that she had been visited by the same dream. Claudius, weak and superstitious, was terrified by the startling coincidence, and before he had time to recover from his fright, Silanus himself appeared, according to an appointment which the Emperor had made with him. But Claudius in his bewilderment forgot the appointment, and saw in the sudden appearance of Silanus a confirmation of the suspicions which had been aroused by the dreams. Messalina and Narcissus, pressed their advantage, and easily persuaded the deceived Emperor to issue an order for the immediate execution of Silanus.
If this tale can be trusted, it shows how unscrupulous the Empress and the freedmen were in compassing their ends, and how completely the Emperor was dominated by their influence. Many other conspicuous victims were sacrificed to the jealousy or covetousness of Messalina. Among them was Poppaea Sabina, said to be the most beautiful woman of the day, the wife of L. Cornelius Scipio. Her real offence was that she tried to fascinate Mnester, a dancer with whom Messalina was in love. But the charge preferred against her was that she committed adultery with Valerius Asiaticus, a nobleman of wealth and influence, who was one of the consuls of the year (47 A.D.). He was brought into the trial because Messalina coveted the gardens of Lucullus on the Pincian hill, which he had inherited. At the same time he was accused of treasonable designs, and was given no opportunity to defend himself before the senate. The trial took place privately in the palace; sentence was passed on the accused, and he was allowed to choose his own death. He adopted the manner of suicide which was then in fashion, and, after bathing and supping, cut open his veins and let himself bleed to death. Poppaea put an end to her own life, before the trial was concluded.
So far the plans of Messalina and those of the freedmen had not clashed. The interests of the latter were not threatened by an intrigue with the dancer Mnester or by the confiscation of the gardens of Asiaticus. But when she engaged in an intrigue with a Roman noble, Gaius Silius, the case was very different. For such a connection was clearly a menace to the throne. A man in the position of Silius would hardly have suffered himself to be drawn into an intrigue with a woman of Messalina’s evil reputation, if he had not been urged by motives of ambition. But the interests of the freedmen were bound up in their master’s life, and his overthrow would have almost certainly meant their ruin. They determined that Gaius Silius should not attain to the Principate, and, as Messalina refused to listen to their warnings, they brought about her fall (48A.D.).
The Empress, infatuated with her new lover, induced him to divorce his wife, and promised to wed him alter the death of Claudius, whose weak constitution might not be expected to hold out much longer. But at length Silius, weary of his ambiguous and dangerous position, and apprehensive, perhaps, of the constancy of his paramour, urged her to consent to the bold step of removing Claudius. He undertook to adopt Britannicus, and promised to reign in his name and as his guardian. Messalina, however, was not anxious to gratify his wishes. She feared that when Silius reached the goal of his ambition he might spurn her from him on account of her licentiousness. Nevertheless she felt such pleasure in trampling upon public opinion and outraging morality, that she consented to celebrate a formal marriage with her lover. Claudius was just then about to set forth for Ostia, but before he started he was assured by diviners that some, evil was destined to befall “the husband of Messalina”. To avert evil from his own head, he was induced to sanction a pretended marriage between his wife and another. Gaius Silius was chosen to be the sham bridegroom; the betrothal took place in the Emperor’s presence, and he himself signed the marriage contract. He then started for Ostia, but Messalina remained behind on a plea of indisposition, and, incredible as it may seem, celebrated her marriage with Silius with all the customary festivities.
It was an anxious moment for the freedmen, Narcissus, Pallas. and Callistus. The destruction of Gaius Silius must at all hazards be effected, and it was necessary to set cautiously to work. The influence which Messalina still possessed had been recently shown by the sentence of death passed on Polybius, who had attempted to interfere between her and her lover. So Narcissus laid a plan to take her unawares, and ensure her fall before she could obtain an interview with her husband. He suborned two women, who were intimate with Claudius to awaken him to the knowledge of his strange situation. Narcissus was then, according to the prearranged plot, summoned to the Emperor’s presence, and confirmed the strange tale of the marriage of Messalina. “Did Claudius”, he asked, “know that he had been divorced by his own wife? that the people, the senate, the soldiers had witnessed the marriage of Silius? was he still unaware that, unless he acted promptly, the city was in the hands of the husband of Messalina?”. The Emperor could hardly believe the story, but others of the household bore testimony to its truth, and he was urged to hurry back to Rome with all speed, and secure himself in the praetorian camp. Utterly bewildered and frightened, Claudius let his councilors do with him what they would, and on his way back to Rome he kept continually asking, “Am I the Emperor? Is Silius a private citizen?” Narcissus distrusted Lucius Geta, one of the two prefects of the praetorian guards, as a friend of Messalina. He therefore induced Claudius to commit to himself the command of the guards for a single day. On obtaining the consent of the Emperor, he sent orders to Rome that the house of Silius should be occupied, and all who were present arrested. He obtained a seat in the carriage of the Emperor, lest the two companions of Claudius, Vitellius and Largus, should weaken his resolution. L. Vitellius, who had gained distinction in the east under Tiberius, and had worked himself into the favor of Gaius by unscrupulous flattery, carefully abstained from committing himself to an opinion. To the complaints of Claudius he merely said, “How scandalous! how horrible!” leaving the freedman to bear all the responsibility.
Meanwhile in the house of Silius, the Empress was celebrating a vintage festival. The grape-juice flowed in streams from the wine-presses, and women, arrayed as Bacchants, with skins flung over their shoulders, performed wild dances. Messalina, herself brandishing a thyrsus, and Silius, crowned with ivy, at her side, strode about in buskins. A note of discord suddenly broke upon the dissolute scene. A physician, one Vettius Valens, had climbed up a high tree, and when they asked him what he saw, he replied in jest or by some kind of prevision, “a terrible storm coming from Ostia”. Presently the news came that Claudius was indeed coming from Ostia, and coming to avenge. The riotous company was instantly