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.