The Murder Of An Empress


Nero was lord of Rome. Chance had placed a weak and immoral boy in

unlimited control of the greatest of nations. Utterly destitute of

principle, he gradually descended into the deepest vice and profligacy,

which was soon succeeded by the basest cruelty and treachery. And one of

the first victims of his treachery was his own mother, who had murdered

her husband, the Emperor Claudius, to place him on the throne, and had

ow committed the deeper fault of attempting to control her worthless

and faithless son.



She had threatened to replace him on the throne with his half-brother

Britannicus, and Nero had escaped this difficulty by poisoning

Britannicus. She then opposed his vicious passions, and made a bitter

foe of his mistress Poppaea, who by every artifice incensed the

weak-minded emperor against his mother, representing her as the only

obstacle to his full enjoyment of power and pleasure.



At length the detestable son was wrought up to the resolution of

murdering her to whom he owed his life. But how? He was too cowardly and

irresolute to take open means. Should he remove her by poison or the

poignard? The first was doubtful. Agrippina was too practised in guilt,

too accustomed to vile deeds, to be easily deceived, and had, moreover,

by taking poisons, hardened her frame against their effect. Nor could

she be killed by the knife and the murder concealed. The murder-seeking

wretch, who had no plan, and no stronger person than himself in whom he

could confide, was at a loss how to carry out his wicked purpose.



At this juncture his tutor Anicetus came to his aid. This villain, who

bitterly hated Agrippina, was now in command of the fleet that lay at

Misenum. He proposed to Nero to have a vessel built in such a manner

that it might give way in the open sea, and plunge to the bottom with

all not prepared to escape. If Agrippina could be lured on board such a

vessel, her drowning would seem one of the natural disasters of the open

sea.



This suggestion filled with joy the mind of the unnatural son. The court

was then at Baiae, celebrating the festival called the Quinquatria.

Agrippina was invited to attend, and Nero, pretending a desire for

reconciliation, went to the sea-shore to meet her on her arrival,

embraced her tenderly, and conducted her to a villa in a pleasant

situation, looking out on a charming bay of the Mediterranean.



On the waters of the bay floated a number of vessels, among which was

one superbly decorated, being prepared, as she was told, in her honor as

the emperor's mother. This was intended to convey her to Baiae, where a

banquet was to be given to her that evening.



Agrippina was fond of sailing. She had frequently joined coasting

parties and made pleasure trips of her own. But for some reason, perhaps

through suspicion of Nero's dark project, she now took a carriage in

preference, and arrived safely at Baiae, much to the discomfiture of her

worthless son.



Nero, however, was cunning enough to conceal his disappointment. He gave

her the most gracious reception, placed her at table above himself, and

by his affectionate attentions and his easy flow of talk succeeded in

dispelling any suspicions his mother may have entertained.



The banquet was continued till a late hour, and when Agrippina rose to

go Nero attended her to the shore, where lay the sumptuously decorated

vessel ready to convey her back to her villa. Here he lavished upon her

marks of fond affection, clasped her warmly to his bosom, and bade her

adieu in words of tender regret, disguising his fell purpose under the

utmost show of tenderness.



Agrippina went on board, attended by only two of her train, one of whom,

a maid named Acerronia, lay at the foot of her mistress's couch, and

gladly expressed her joy at the loving reconciliation which she had just

perceived.



The night was calm and serene. The stars shone with their brightest

lustre. The sea extended with an unruffled surface. The vessel moved

swiftly, at no great distance from the shore, under the regular sweep of

the rowers' oars. Yet little way had been made when there came a

disastrous change. A signal was given, and suddenly the deck over

Agrippina's cabin sank in, borne down by a great weight of lead.



One of the attendants of the empress was crushed to death, but the posts

of Agrippina's couch proved strong enough to bear the weight, and she

and Acerronia escaped and made their way hastily to the deck. Here

confusion and consternation reigned. The plot had failed. The vessel had

not fallen to pieces at once, as intended. Those who were not in the

plot rushed wildly to and fro, hampering, by their distracted movements,

the operations of the guilty. These sought to sink the vessel at once,

but in spite of their efforts the ship sank but slowly, giving the

intended victims an opportunity to escape.



Acerronia, with instinctive devotion to her mistress, or a desire to

save her own life, cried out that she was Agrippina, and pathetically

implored the mariners to save her life. She won death instead. The

assassins attacked her with oars and other weapons, and beat her down to

the sinking deck. Agrippina, on the contrary, kept silent, and, with the

exception of a wound on her shoulder, remained unhurt. Dashing into the

dark waters of the bay, she swam towards the shore, and managed to keep

herself afloat till taken up by a boat, in which some persons who had

witnessed the accident from the shore had hastily put out. Telling her

rescuers who she was, they conveyed her up the bay to her villa.



Agrippina had been concerned in too many crimes of her own devising to

be deceived. The treachery of her son was too evident. Without touching

a rock, and in complete calm, the vessel had suddenly broken down, as

if constructed for the purpose. Her own wound and the murder of her maid

were further proofs of a preconcerted plot. Yet she was too shrewd to

make her suspicions public. The plot had failed, and she was still

alive. She at once despatched a messenger to her son, saying that by the

favor of the gods and his good auspices she had escaped shipwreck, and

that she thus hastened to quiet his affectionate fears. She then retired

to her couch.



Meanwhile Nero waited impatiently for the news of his mother's death.

When word was at length brought him that she had escaped, his craven

soul was filled with terror. If this should get abroad; if she should

call on her slaves, on the army, on the senate; if the people should

learn of the plot of murder, and rise in riot; if any of a dozen

contingencies should happen, all might be lost.



The terrified emperor was in a frightful quandary. He sent in all haste

for his advisers, but none of them cared to offer any suggestions. At

length the villanous Anicetus came to his aid. While they talked the

messenger of Agrippina had arrived, and was admitted to give his message

to the prince. As he was speaking Anicetus foxily let fall a dagger

between his legs. He instantly seized him, snatched up the dagger and

showed it to the company, and declared that the wretch had been sent by

Agrippina to assassinate her son. The guards were called in, the man was

ordered to be dragged away and put in fetters, and the story of the

discovered plot of Agrippina was made public.



"Death to the murderess!" cried Anicetus. "Let me hasten at once to

her punishment."



Nero gladly assented, and Anicetus hurried from the room, empowered to

carry out his murderous intent.



Meanwhile the news of the peril and escape of the empress had spread far

and wide. A dreadful accident had occurred, it was said. The people

rushed in numbers to the shore, crowded the piers, filled the boats, and

gave voice to a medley of cries of alarm. The uproar was at length

allayed by some men with lighted torches, who assured the excited

multitude that Agrippina had escaped and was now safe in her villa.



While they were speaking a body of soldiers, led by Anicetus, arrived,

and with threats of violence dispersed the peasant throng. Then,

planting a guard round the mansion, Anicetus burst open its doors,

seized the slaves who appeared, and forced his way to the apartment of

the empress.



Here Agrippina waited in fear and agitation the return of her messenger.

Why came he not? Was new murder in contemplation? She heard the tumult

and confusion on the shore, and learned from her attendants what it

meant. But the noise was suddenly hushed; a dismal silence prevailed;

then came new noises, then loud tones of command, and violent blows on

the outer doors. In dread of what was coming, the unhappy woman waited

still, till loud steps sounded in the passage, the attendants at her

door were thrust aside, and armed men entered her chamber.



The room was in deep shadow, only the pale glimmer of a feeble light

breaking the gloom. A single maid remained with the empress, and she,

too, hastened to the door on hearing the tramp of warlike feet.



"Do you, too, desert me?" cried Agrippina, in deep reproach.



At that moment Anicetus entered the room, followed by two other

ruffians. They approached her bed. She rose to receive them.



"If you come from the prince," she said, "tell him I am well. If your

intents are murderous, you are not sent by my son. The guilt of

parricide is foreign to his heart."



Her words were checked by a blow on the head with a club. A sword-thrust

followed, and she expired under a number of mortal wounds. Thus died the

niece, the wife, and the mother of an emperor, the daughter of the

celebrated soldier Germanicus, herself so stained with vice that none

can pity her fate, particularly as she had committed the further

unconscious crime of giving birth to the monster named Nero.



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