As the spring passed, Nero had decided that this summer, instead of retiring to some rural or seaside villa as was his custom, he would sail to Alexandria and visit the antiquities of Egypt. Ordering preparations made for his departure, he issued a proclamation this first week of June. He announced his Egyptian trip, declaring that he would not be absent from Rome long and that “all things in the State would remain unchanged and prosperous” while he was away.
2
Now, early in the morning, prior to attending a ceremony at the Temple of Vesta, Nero visited the Temple of Jupiter on the Capitoline Mount. There, he made sacrifices and sought good omens and an indication of the most auspicious departure date. Nero then came down to the Forum and entered the Temple of Vesta. This was the first day of the seven-day Vestalia, the annual Festival of Vesta. The vestal virgins had been preparing for months, even personally baking countless salty wheat cakes for the banquets that formed part of the festivities. The festival, the holiest time of the year for the vestals, was to commence with a simple ceremony here at the circular temple that housed the eternal flame.
As the emperor entered the Temple of Vesta, where the vestals awaited him in their white vestments, his cloak became caught, holding him back, and then he felt a trembling sensation all over his body. As he was carried in a litter back to the Palatium, he decided these were signs that he should not leave Rome. He quickly released a new announcement, advising that he was canceling his trip to Egypt, because, he said, love of his country came before his personal plans. “I have seen the sad countenances of the citizens,” his latest proclamation declared. “I heard their secret complaints at the prospect of my undertaking such a long journey, when they cannot bear even my briefest excursions, accustomed as they are to being cheered in their misfortunes by the sight of the emperor. Therefore, as in private relationships, the closest ties are the strongest, so the people of Rome have the most powerful claims and must be obeyed in their wish to retain me.”
3
This announcement was well received by the general public. The people felt more secure when the emperor was among them than when he was away, said Tacitus, not the least because they felt confident that while he was at Rome, he would never allow their grain supply to become scarce. As for the members of the Senate and other leading citizens, Tacitus wrote that they were not sure whether to regard Nero as more threatening while he was among them or while he was away.
4
The Vestalia brought with it obligations for the state to provide public banquets during the week of June 7-14. While these free meals throughout the city were for the general populace, Praetorian Prefect Tigellinus had proposed to Nero that this year, he would personally finance a grand Vestalia banquet for the nobility. Tigellinus’ sudden and uncharacteristic generosity might be put down to his nervousness about Nero’s reluctance to leave him in charge at Rome while traveling outside Italy. Certainly, Nero’s indication that he would have given clemency to Silanus had he not committed suicide strongly hinted at his displeasure over the way that affair had been handled. Tigellinus’ offer, designed to cement his position as Nero’s most trusted official, was approved.
Tigellinus’ banquet was a novel and extravagant affair. There was a body of water on the Campus Martius known as Agrippa’s Lake. Marcus Agrippa, Nero’s maternal great-grandfather, had personally funded a large complex for the use and pleasure of the public, involving expansive gardens, a basilica, and this lake, which was linked to the Tiber River by a small canal. On this lake, Tigellinus had a large raft constructed. Small rowing craft that shone with gold and ivory were launched onto the lake and tethered to the raft like horses to a carriage.
In the late afternoon of the day of Tigellinus’ banquet, the emperor and other official guests arrived and stepped onto the richly decorated raft. Among the guests, apart from Nero and his empress Poppaea, would have been all the usual dignitaries: the consuls Laecanius and Licinius, whose terms, which Nero limited to six months, would soon end; the twenty praetors for the year; Water Commissioner Marius and his fellow commissioners for grain, the streets, and the sewers; a score or more of former consuls, including Vespasian, Petronius Arbiter, and Cluvius Rufus; City Prefect Sabinus; numerous former praetors; other leading senators; the rival Praetorian prefects, Faenius Rufus and the day’s host, Tigellinus. Probably, too, there were special guests in the party who had connections at the Palatium, men such as Joseph, the Jewish priest visiting from Judea.
Rowers in the small boats strained at their oars and dragged the raft around the lake. To the delight of some guests and the consternation of others, the lake had been populated with “sea monsters” such as crocodiles and birds from remote lands. On one shoreline, pavilions had been set up, where noble ladies crowded. The sign of the brothel, showing erect penises, hanging outside these pavilions and facing the lake would have made it perfectly clear to those on the raft what the pavilions were supposed to represent.
It is unclear whether the noble ladies knew about the signs. Had they not, and had they simply answered an invitation to assemble at the lakeside pavilions, this would have been a huge joke at their expense—a crude joke contrived by Tigellinus. Meanwhile, on the opposite shoreline, Tigellinus had installed genuine prostitutes, all quite naked, who made obscene gestures and movements as the raft passed slowly by. As the sun set west of the Tiber, the grove in the Gardens of Agrippa and the surrounding public buildings glowed with artificial light and resounded to the sounds of music and song. There at the gardens, the highly amused guests disembarked to dine.
Several days later, in a private ceremony witnessed by only his most intimate associates, Nero went through a mock wedding ceremony with a Greek freedman named Pythagoras, with Nero playing the part of the bride, complete with traditional orange marriage veil. That night, Nero and Pythagoras “honeymooned” together.
XI
THE CHARIOTEER
T
he July heat beat down on the paving stones of Rome. The city streets were all but deserted. All public business had ceased. Downtown, shops were closed. Soldiers of the City Cohorts patrolled in squads, their helmets and armor shining in the sun and the hobnails of their military sandals crunching on the stone, as they kept a wary eye open for thieves and other wrongdoers trying to take advantage of the quiet. From the distance, beyond the Palatine Hill, a spine-chilling roar rose up on the morning air.
For weeks, the elite of the city had been flocking to the seaside, the countryside, and the hills to escape the summer heat. They were joined at their villas by family, friends, and clients. Only the members of the nobility whose official duties kept them in the city remained. The Roman commoners had no such ability to leave the city for a country seat in the summer or at any other time. To survive, they had no choice but to continue to earn a living at Rome. But at least the commoners had diversions to look forward to. The greatest diversions of all came during July, when there were two major
ludi
, or religious festivals. The first festival ran for seven days early in the month, the second for ten days at the end of the month, and each culminated in chariot races at the circus.
By July 13, the Ludi Apollinares had been running at the capital for a week. Dedicated to Apollo, god of music, song, and dance and protector of flocks, the festival had been celebrated at the Circus Maximus. There had been horse races and drama, mime, and song contests. How Nero had longed to take part, but he knew that it was too soon. First, he must win the laurels in Greece, as he had originally planned, before coming out in public at Rome as a singer.
Now, this last day of the games, Nero sat in the
tribunal judicum
, the judges’ box, at the Circus Maximus, cheering for the Greens. Most Romans were lifelong supporters of one racing
factio
, or team, or another. There were four racing factions, the Greens, the Blues, the Whites, and the Reds, each controlled by a corporation. These corporations were vast business enterprises, operating stable complexes, training schools, stud farms, and even their own fleets of ships for transporting horses around the provinces. They owned hundreds of thousands of horses; their horse buyers even had preference over the army when it came to purchasing horseflesh. Racing corporation stock was frequently passed down from father to son.
Romans supported a particular faction all their lives, and on racing day, they turned up at the circus wearing flowers, ribbons, and scarves in the color of their teams. Around Nero this June day, a crowd of more than 200,000 people swelled, all sporting red and white and blue and green. Hundreds of years before, the long, thin, U-shaped Circus Maximus had been created, southwest of the Palatine Hill, its sides built of stone arcades atop which rose massive tiers of seating. Those tiers were built entirely of wood. The Circus Maximus was, and remains to this day, the largest wooden structure ever built. The following century, it would be enlarged even further, to accommodate an estimated 300,000-plus spectators, making it also the largest sporting stadium ever erected.
From dawn till dusk, the chariots raced. In Augustus’ time, there were twelve races a day; Caligula, a huge fan of chariot racing, had increased the number to twenty-four. Just four chariots took part in each race, representing each of the factions. Some
ludi
featured two-horse teams. Occasionally, five-, six-, and even ten-horse teams raced. But the four-horse chariot, the
quadriga
, was the standard racing chariot. Of its four horses, the central pair were yoked, but the two outer horses were only in traces. The left horse, the one that ran closest to the spine of the course, was the team’s most important and most valuable, for this horse’s cornering skill determined the course of the chariot, and of the race. The outside horse was the next most important, while the two central horses were there for their pulling power.
The Roman charioteer was the rock star of his age, even more celebrated than the gladiator. Most charioteers came to the track as slaves, some as freedmen. Many became famous and rich. A number died on the track or later, from race injuries. The corporations split the race prize money equally with the winning drivers and paid them bonuses. Drivers also received gifts from their many admirers and won and lost vast amounts wagering on races—their own and others. Unlike dice throwing, but like gladiatorial fighting, chariot racing was considered a contest of skill, and so betting on races was legal.
Fifty provincial cities were authorized by the emperor to erect hippodromes and conduct chariot races, but the races at the capital generated the most interest. Results from Circus Maximus races were eagerly sought throughout the empire, and Rome’s handwritten daily newspaper, the
Acta diurna
—since its inception by Julius Caesar in 59 BC distributed to all corners of the Roman world—contained the latest race results.
The charioteer, who stood throughout, wound the ends of the reins of his horses around his waist to increase his leverage, leaving the right hand free for the whip and the left for the reins. As a consequence, if his chariot crashed or if he fell out, a driver would be dragged by his bolting team until circus attendants reined them in. Even if the drag did not seriously injure a driver, he was likely to be trampled by another passing team.
In Nero’s day, every race consisted of seven laps of the circuit. At the drop of an officiating magistrate’s napkin, the competing chariots charged from the starting gates at the flat end of the “U.” They raced down the right side of the central spine, which was angled a little diagonally so that the track narrowed at the two turns, increasing the degree of difficulty for making the turn. If there was a false start, a white rope, the
alba linea
, which stretched across the track several feet above the ground halfway down the first lap, would force the teams to stop. If the start was fair, a judge let the
alba linea
drop to the sand before the teams reached it, and they passed over it.
As each lap was completed, high on the circus’s spine one of seven large eggs was removed and one of seven gilded dolphins was reversed, to tell spectators and drivers alike how many laps remained. And then it was the last lap, and a champion might overtake his opponents to snatch victory in the last strides, accompanied by the roar of 200,000 spectators. This crescendo of voices meant that visitors approaching Rome on race days would hear the city before they saw it. To leaven the entertainment, there were novelty events and displays of trick riding during the middle of the day. This was when the traders in the arcades beneath the Circus Maximus did their best business, the hot-food shops and wine bars in particular. Here, too, beneath the arcades, prostitutes found ready customers.
Nero was more than just a spectator. Just as he had pretensions to be a stage performer, he also hankered for the circus sands. “Horses had been Nero’s main interest since childhood,” said Suetonius. “His chatter about the chariot races at the circus could not be stopped.”
1
Nero’s adherence to the Greens was formed during his school days. As a youth, he had diligently practiced horse management and had learned how to drive the chariot. He became a proficient charioteer and had wanted to show off his skill in public, but Seneca and Burrus had convinced him that it would not be politic.