Prometeo: Bufón y Mártir

 

Théâtre du martyre

Selon Ernest Renan, L'Antéchrist (1873), décrivant la suite de l'incendie de Rome sous Néron, et l'inculpation et persécution des chrétiens. Avec l'affreux théâtre de la cruauté de Nerón avant Artaud.

 

On arrêta d'abord un certain nombre de personnes soupçonnées de faire partie de la secte nouvelle, et on les entassa dans une prison, qui était déjà un supplice à elle seule. Elles confessèrent leur foi, ce qui put être considéré comme un aveu du crime qu'on en jugeait inséparable. Ces premières arrestations en amenèrent un très-grand nombre d'autres. La plupart des inculpés paraissent avoir été des prosélytes observant les préceptes et les conventions du pacte de Jérusalem. Il n'est pas admissible que de vrais chrétiens nient dénoncé leurs frères; mais on put saisir des papiers; quelques néophytes à peine initiés purent céder à la torture. On fut surpris de la multitude des adhérents qu'avaient réunis ces deoctrines ténébreuses; on en parla non sans épouvante. Tous les hommes sensés trouvèrent l'accusation d'avoir mis le feu extrêmement faible. "Leur vrai crime, disait-on, c'est la haine du genre humain." Quoique persuadés que l'incendie était le crime de Néron, beaucoup de Romains sérieux virent dans ce coup de filet à la police une façon de délivrer la ville d'une peste très-meurtrière. Tacite, malgré quelque pitié, est de cet avis. Quant à Suétone, il range parmi les mesures louables de Néron les supplices qu'il fit subir aux partisans de la nouvelle et malfaisante superstition.

Ces supplices furent quelque chose d'effroyable. On n'avait jamais vu de pareils raffinements de cruauté. Presque tous les chrétiens arrêtés étaient des humiliores, des gens de rien. Le supplice de ces malheureux, quand il s'agissait de lèse-majesté ou de sacrilège, consistait à être livrés aux bêtes ou brûlés vifs dans l'amphithéâtre, avec accompagnement de cruelles flagellations. Un des traits les plus hideux des mœurs romaines était d'avoir fait du supplice une fête, et de la vue de la tuerie un jeu public.  La Perse, à ses moments de fanatisme et de terreur, avait connu d'affreux deploiements de tortures; plus d'une fois elle y avait goûté une sorte de volupté sombre; mais jamais avant la domination romaine on n'avait été jusqu'à chercher dans ces horreurs un divertissement public, un sujet de rires et d'applaudissements. Les amphithéâtres étaient devenu les lieux d'éxecution; les tribunaux fournissaient l'arène. Les condamnés du monde entier étaient acheminés sur Rome pour approvisionnement du cirque et l'amusement du peuple. Que l'on joigne à cela une atroce exagération dans la pénalité, qui faisait que de simples délits étaient punis de mort; qu'on y ajoute de nombreuses erreurs judiciaires, résultat d'une procédure criminelle défectueuse, on concevra que toutes les idées fussent perverties. Les suppliciés étaient considérés bien plutôt comme des malheureux que comme des criminels; en bloc, on les tenait pour presque innocents, innoxia corpora.

A la barbarie des supplices, cette fois, on ajoute la dérision. Les victimes furent gardées pour une fête, à laquelle on donna sans doute un caractère expiatoire. Rome compta peu de journées aussi extraordinaires. Le ludus matutinus, consacré aux combats d'animaux, vit un défilé inouï. Les condamnés, couverts de peaux de bêtes fauves, furent lancés dans l'arène, où on les fit déchirer par des chiens; d'autres furent crucifiés; d'autres, enfin, revêtus de tuniques trempées dans l'huile, la poix ou la résine, se virent attachés à des poteaux et réservés pour éclairer la fête de nuit. Quand le jour baissa, on alluma ces flambeaux vivants. Néron offirt pour le spectacle les magnifiques jardins qu'il possédait au delà du Tibre et qui occupaient l'emplacement actuel du Borgo, de la place et de l'église de Saint_Pierre. Il s'y trouvait un cirque, commencé par Caligula, continué par Claude, et dont un obelisque, tiré d'Héliopolis (celui-la même qui marque de nous jours le centre de la place de Saint-Pierre), était la borne. Cet endroit avait déjà vu des massacres aux flambeaux. Caligula, en se promenant, y fit décapiter à la lueur des torches un certain nombre de personnages consulaires, de sénateurs et de dames romaines. L'idée de remplacer les falots par des corps humains imprégnés de substances inflammables put paraître ingénieuse. Comme supplice, cette façon de brûler vif n'était pas neuve; c'était la peine ordinaire des incendiaires, ce qu'on appelait la tunica molesta; mais on n'en avait jamais fait un système d'illumination. A la clarté de ces hideuses torches, Néron, qui avait mis à la mode les courses du soir, se montra dant l'arène, tantôt mêlé au peuple en habit de jockey, tantôt conduisant son char et recherchant les applaudissements. Il yh eut pourtant quelques signes de compassion. Même ceux qui croyaient les chrétiens coupables et qui avouaient qu'ils avaient mérité le dernier supplice eurent horreur de ces cruels plaisirs. Les hommes sages eussent voulu qu'on fît seulement ce qu'exigeait l'utilité publique, qu'on purgeât la ville d'hommes dangereux, mais qu'on n'eût pas l'air de sacrifier des criminels à la férocité d'un seul.

Des femmes, des vierges furent mêlées à ces jeux horribles. On se fit une fête des indignités sans nom qu'elles souffrirent. L'usage s'était établi sous Néron de faire jouer aux condamnés dans l'amphithéâtre des rôles mythologiques, entraînant la mort de l'acteur. Ces hideux opéras, où la science des machines atteignait à des effets prodigieux, étaient chose nouvelle; la Grèce eût été surprise, si on lui eût suggéré une pareille tentative pour appliquer la férocité à l'esthétique, pour faire de l'art avec la torture. Le malheureux était introduit dans l'arène richement costumé en dieu ou en héros voué à la mort, puis représentait par son supplice quelque scène tragique des fables consacrées par les sculpteurs et les poëtes. Tantôt c'était Hercule furieux, brûlé sur le mont Œta, arrachant de dessus sa peau la tunique de poix enflammée; tantôt Orphée mis en pièces par un ours, Dédale précipité du ciel et évoré par les bêtes, Pasiphaé subissant les étreintes du taureau, Attys meurtri; quelquefois, c'étaient accoutrés en prêtres de Saturne, le manteau rouge sur le dos, les femmes en prêtresses de Cérès, portant les bandelettes au front; d'autres fois enfin, des pièces dramatiques, au courant desquelles le héros était réellement mis à mort, comme Lauréolus, ou bien des représentations d'actes tragiques comme celui de Musius Scævola. A la fin, Mercure, avec une verge de fer rougie au feu, touchait chaque cadavre pour voir s'il remuait; des valet masqués, représentant Pluton ou l'Orcus, traînaient les morts par les pieds, assommant avec des maillets tout ce qui palpitait encore.

Les dames chrétiennes les plus respectables durent se prêter à ces monstruosités. Les unes jouèrent le rôle des Danaïdes, les autres celui de Dircé. Il est difficile de dire en quoi la fable des Danaïdes puvait fournir un tableau sanglant. Le supplice que toute la tradition mythologique attribue à ces femmes coupables, et dans lequel on les représentait, n'était pas assez cruel pour suffire aux plaisirs de Néron et des habitués de son amphithéâtre. Peut-être défilèrent-elles portant des urnes, et reçurent-elles le coup fatal d'un acteur figurant Lyncée. Peut-être vit-on Aymone, l'une des Danaïdes, poursuvie par un satyre et violée par Neptune. Peut-être enfin ces malheureuses traversèrent-elles succesivement devant les spectateurs la série des supplices du Tartare, et mourrurent-elles après des heures de tourments. Les représentations de l'enfer étaient à la mode. Qulques années auparavant (l'an 41), des Égyptiens et des Nubiens vinrent à Rome et eurent un grand succès, en donnant des séances de nuit, où l'on montrait par ordre les horreurs du monde souterrain, conformément aux peintures des syringes de Thèbes, notamment du tombeau de Séthi Ier.

Quant aux supplices des Dircés, il n'y a pas de doute. On connaît le groupe colossal désigné sous le nom de Taureau Farnèse, maintenant au musée de Naples. Amphion et Zéthus attachent Dircé aux cornes d'un taureau indompté, qui doit la traîner à travers les rochers et les ronces du Cithéron. Ce médiocre marbre rhodien, transporté à Rome dès le temps d'Auguste, était l'objet de l'universelle admiration. Quel plus beau sujet pour cet art hideux que la cruauté du temps avait mis en vogue et qui consistait à faire des tableaux vivants avec les statues célèbres? Un texte et une fresque de Pompéi semblent prouver que cette scène terrible était souvent représentée dans les arènes, quand on avait à supplicier une femme. Attachées nues par les cheveux aux cornes d'un taureau furieux, les malheureuses assouvissaient les regards lubriques d'un peuple féroce. Quelques-unes des chrétiennes immolées de la sorte étaient faibles de corps; leur courage fut surhumain; mais la foule infâme n'eut d'yeux que pour leurs entrailles ouvertes et leurs seins déchirés.

Néron fut sans doute présent à ces spectacles. Comme il était myope, il avait coutume de porter dans l'œil, quand il suivait les combats de gladiateurs, une émeraude concave qui lui servait de lorgnon. Il aimait à faire parade de ses connaissances de sculpteur; on prétend que sur le cadavre de sa mère il émit d'odieuses remarques, luant ceci, blâmant cela. Une chair palpitant sous la dent des bêtes, une pauvre fille timide, voilant sa nudité d'un geste chaste, puis soulevée par un taureau et mise en lambeaux sur les cailloux de l'arène, devaient offrir des formes plastiques et des couleurs dignes d'un connaisseur comme lui. Il était là, au premier rang, sur le podium, mêlé aux vestales et aux magistrats curules, avec sa mauvaise figure, sa vue basse, ses yeux bleus, ses cheveux châtains, bouclés en étages, la lèvre redoutable, son air méchant et bête à la fois de gros poupard niais, béat, bouffi de vanité, pendant qu'une musique d'airain vibrait dans l'air, ondulé par une buée de sang. Il raisonnait sans doute en artiste sur l'attitude pudique de ces nouvelles Dircés, et trouva, j'imagine, qu'un certain air de résignation donnait à ces femmes pures, près d'être déchirées, un charme qu'il n'avait pas connu jusque-là. 

 

 

 

 

 

Néron (L'Antéchrist)

 

Du chapitre VI de L'Antéchrist par Ernest Renan (1873).

 

 

L'incendie de Rome

La manie furieuse de Néron était arrivée à son paroxysme. C'était la plus horrible aventure que le monde eût jamais courue. L'absolue nécessité des temps avait tout livré à un seul, à l'héritier du grand nom légendaire de César; un autre régime était impossible, et les provinces, d'ordinaire, se trouvaient assez bien de celui-ci: mais il recélait un immense danger. Quand le césar perdait l'esprit, quand toutes les artères de sa pauvre tête, troublée par un pouvoir inouï, éclataient en même temps, alors c'étaient des folies sans nom. On était livré à un monstre. Nul moyen de le chasser; sa garde, composée de Germains, qui avaient tout à perdre s'il tombait, s'acharnait autour de lui; la bête acculée se baugeait et se défendait avec rage. Pour Néron, ce fut quelque chose à la fois d'épouvantable et de grotesque, de grandiose et d'absurde. Comme le césar était fort lettré, sa folie fut principalement littéraire. Les rêves de tous les siècles, tous le poëmes, toutes les légendes, Bacchus et Sardanapale, Ninus et Priam, Troie et Babylone, Homère et la fade poétique du temps, ballottaient comme un chaos dans un pauvre cerveau d'artiste médiocre, mais très-convaincu, à qui le hasard avait confié le pouvoir de réaliser toutes ses chimères. Qu'on se figure un homme à peu près aussi sensé que les héros de M. Victor Hugo, un personnage de mardi gras, un mélange de fou, de jocrisse et d'acteur, revêtu de la toute-puissance et chargé de gouverner le monde. Il n'avait pas la noire méchanceté de Domitien, l'amour du mal pou le mal; ce n'étaita pas non plus un extravagant comme Caligula; c'était un romantique consciencieux, un empereur d'opéra, un mélomane tremblant devant le parterre et le faisant trembler, ce que serait de nos jours un bourgeois dont le bon sens aurait été perverti par la lecture des poëtes modernes et qui se croirait obligé d'imiter dans sa conduite Han d'Islande et les Burgraves. Le gouvernement étant la chose pratique par excellence, le romantisme y est tout à fait déplacé. Le romantisme est chez lui dans le domaine de l'art; mais l'action est l'inverse de l'art. En ce qui touche à l'éducation d'un prince surtout, le romantisme est funeste. Sénèque, sous ce rapport, fit bien plus de mal à son élève, par son mauvais goût littéraire, que de bien par sa belle philosophie. C'était un grand esprit, un talent hors de ligne, et un homme au fond respectable, malgré plus d'une tache, mais tout gâté par la déclamation et la vanité littéraire, incapable de sentir et de raisonner sans phrases. A force d'exercer son élève  à exprimer des choses qu'il ne pensait pas, à composer d'avance des mots sublimes, il en fit un comédien jaloux, un rhéteur méchant, disant des paroles d'humanité quand il était sûr qu'on l'écoutait. Le vieux pédagogue voyait avec profondeur le mal de son temps, celui de son élève et le sien propre, quand il s'écriait dans ses moments de sincérité: Literarum intemperantia laboramus. 

Ces ridicules parurent d'abord chez Néron assez inoffensifs; le singe s'observa quelque temps et garda la pose qu'on lui avait apprise. La cruauté ne se déclara chez lui qu'après la mort d'Agrippine; elle l'envait bien vite tout entier. Chaque année maintenant est marquée par ses crime: Burrhus n'est plus, et tout le monde croit que Néron l'a tué; Octavie a quitté la terre abreuvée de honte; Sénèque est dans la retraite, attendant son arrêt à chanque heure, ne rêvant que tortures, endurcissant sa pensée à la méditation des supplices, s'évertuant à prouver que la mort est une délivrance. Tigellin maître de tout, la saturnale est complète. Néron proclame chaque jour que l'art seul doit être tenu pour quelque chose sérieuse, que toute vertu est un mensonge, que le galant homme est celui qui est franc et avoue sa complète impudeur, que le grand homme est celui qui sait abuser de tout, tout perdre, tout dépenser. Un homme vertueux est pour lui un hypocrite, un séditieux, un personnage dangereux et surtout un rival; quand il découvre quelque horrible bassesse qui donne raison à ses théories, il éprouve un accès de joie. Les dangers politiques de l'enflure et de ce faux esprit d'émulation, qui fut dès l'origine le ver rongeur de la culture latine, se dévoilaient. Le cabotin avait réussi à se donner droit de vie et de mort sur son auditoire; le dilettante menaçait les gens de la torture s'ils n'admiraient ses vers. Un monomane grisé para la gloriole littéraire, qui tourne les belles maximes qu'on lui a fait apprendre en plaisanteries de cannibale, un gamin féroce visant aux applaudissements des turlupins de carrefour, voilà le maître que l'empire subissait. On n'avait pas encore vu de pareille extravagance. Les despotes de l'Orient, terribles et graves, n'eurent point de ces fous rires, de ces débauches d'esthétique perverse. La folie de Caligula avait été courte; ce fut un accès, et puis Caligula etait surtout un bouffon; il avait vraiment de l'esprit; au contraire, la folie de celui-ci, d'ordinaire niaise, était parfois épouvantablement tragique. Ce qu'il y avait de plus horrible était de le voir, par manière de déclamation, jouer avec ses remords, en faire des matières de vers. De cet air mélodramatique qui n'appartenait qu'à lui, il se disait tourmenté par les Furies, citait des vers grecs sur les parricides. Un dieu railleur paraissait l'avoir créé pour se donner l'horrible charivari d'une nature humaine où tous les ressorts grinceraient, le spectacle obscène d'un monde épileptique, comme doit être une sarabande des singes du Congo ou une orgie sanglante d'un roi du Dahomey. 

A son exemple, tout le monde semblait pris de vertige. Il s'était formé une compagnie d'odieux espiègles, qu'on appelait les "chevaliers d'Auguste", ayant pour occupation d'applaudir les folies du césar, d'inventer pour lui des farces de rôdeurs de nuit. Nous verrons bientôt un empereur sortir de cette école. Un déluge d'imaginations de mauvais goût, de platitudes, de mots prétendus comiques, un argot nauséabond, analogue à l'esprit de nos plus petits journaux, s'abattirent sur Rome et y firent la mode. Caligula avait déjà créé ce genre funeste d'histrion impérial. Néron le prit hautement pour modèle. Ce ne fut pas assez pour lui de conduire es chars dans le cirque, de s'égosiller en public, de faire des tournées de chanteur en province, on le vit pêcher avec des filets d'or, qu'il tirait avec des cordes de pourpre, dresser lui-même ses claqueurs, mener de faux triomphes, se décerner toutes les couronnes de la Grèce antique, organiser des fêtes inouïes, jouer au théâtre des rôles sans nom.

La cause de ces aberrations était le mauvais goût du siècle, et l'importance déplacée q'on accordait à un art déclamatoire, visant à l'énorme, ne rêvant que monstruosités. En tout, ce que dominait, c'était le manque de sincérité, un genre fade comme celui des tragédies de Sénèque, l'habileté à peindre des sentiments non sentis, l'art de parler en homme vertueux sans l'être. Le gigantesque passait pour grand; l'esthétique était tout à fait dévoyée: c'était le temps des stuatues colossales, de cet art matérialiste, théâtral et faussement pathétique, dont le chef-d'œuvre est le Laocoon, admirable statue assurément, mais dont la pose est trop celle d'un premier ténor chantant son canticum, et où tout l'émotion est tirée de la douleur du corps. On ne se contentait plus de la douleur toute morale des Niobides, rayonnante de beauté; on voulait l'image de la torture physique; on s'y complaisait, comme le XVIIe siècle dans un  arbre de Puget. Les sens étaient usés; des ressources grossières, que les Grecs s'étaient à peine permises dans leurs représentations les plus populaires, devenaient l'élément essentiel de l'art. Le peuple était, à la lettre, affolé de spectacles, non de spectacles sérieux, de tragédies épurantes, mais de scènes à effet, de fantasmagories. Un goût ignoble de "tableaux vivants" s'était répandu. On ne se contentait plus de jouir en imagination des récits exquis des poëtes; on voulait voir les mythes représentés en chair, dans ce qu'ils avaient de plus féroces ou de plus obscène; on s'extasiait devant les grolupes, les attitudes des acteurs; on y cherchait des effets de statuaire. Les applaudissements de cinquante mille personnes, réunies dans une cuve immense, s'échauffant réciproquement, étaient chose si enivrante, que le souverain lui-même en venait à porter envie au cocher, au chanteur, à l'acteur; la gloire du théâtre passait pour la première de toutes. Pas un seul des empereurs dont la tête eut quelque partie faible ne sut résister à la tentation de cueillir les couronnes de ces tristes jeux. Caligula y avait laissé le peu de raison qu'il eut en partage; il passait la journée au théâtre à s'amuser avece les oisifs; plus tard, Commode, Caracalla disputeront à Néron sur ce point la palme de la folie. On fut obligé de faire des lois pour défendre aux sénateurs et aux chevaliers de descendre dans l'arène, de lutter comme gladiateurs, ou de se battre contre les bêtes. Le cirque était devenu le centre de la vie; le reste du monde ne semblait fait que pour les plaisirs de Rome. C'étaient sans cesse de nouvelles inventions plus étranges les une  que les autres, conçues et ordonnées par le chorége souverain.  Le peuple allait de fête en fête, ne parlant que de la dernière journée, attendant celle qu'on lui promettait, et finissait par être très-attaché au prince qui faisait ainsi de sa vie une bacchanale sans fin. La popularité que Néron obtint par ces honteux moyens ne saurait être mise en doute; elle suffit pour qu'après sa mort Othon ait pu arriver à l'empire en relevant son souvenir, en l'imitant, en rappelant que lui-même avait été l'un des mignons de sa coterie. 

(...)

La comedia de las apariciones

 

Laureolus

 Un passage de L'Antéchrist de Renan —le Christianisme la magie et le théâtre à l'âge de Néron:

Toutes sortes d'intrigues que l'insuffisance des documents ne nous permet pas de démêler aggravaient la position des chrétiens. Les Juifs étaient très-puissants auprès de l'empereur et de Poppée. Les "mathématiciens", c'est-à-dire les devins, entre autres un certain Balbillus d'Éphèse, entouraient l'empereur, et, sous prétexte d'exercer la partie de leur art qui consistait à détourner les fléaux et les mauvais présages, lui donnaient d'atroces conseils. La légende qui mêle à tout ce monde de sorciers le nom de Simon le Magicien est-elle sans aucun fondement? Cela se peut sans doute; mais le contraire se peut aussi. L'auteur de l'Apocalypse est fort préoccupé d'un "faux prophète", qu'il représente comme un suppôt de Néron, comme un thaumaturge faisant tomber le feu du ciel, donnant la vie et la parole à des statues, marquant les hommes du caractère de la Bête. C'est peut-être de Balbillus qu'il s'agit; il faut reconnaître cependant que les prodiges attribués au Faux Prophète par l'Apocalypse ont beaucoup de ressemblance avec les tours d'escamotage que la légende attribue à Simon. L'emblème d'un agneau-dragon, sous lequel le Faux Prophète est désigné dans le même livre, convient mieux également à un faux Messie tel qu'était Simon de Gitton qu'à un simple sorcier. D'un autre côté, la légende de Simon précipité du ciel n'est pas sans analogie avec un accident qui arriva dans l'amphithéâtre, sous Néron, à un acteur qui jouait le rôle d'Icare. Le parti arrêté chez l'uteur de l'Apocalypse de s'exprimer en énigmes jette sur tous ces événements beaucoup d'obscurité; mais on ne se trompe pas en cherchant derrière chaque ligne de ce livre étrange des allusions aux circonstances anecdotiques les plus minutieuses du règne de Néron.

Jamais, du reste, la conscience chrétienne ne fut plus ppressée, plus haletante qu'à ce moment. On se croyait en un état provisoire et de très-courte durée. On attendait chaque jour l'apparition solennelle. "Il vient!... Encore une heure!...  Il est proche!..." étaient les mots qu'on se disait à tout instant. L'esprit du martyre, cette pensée que le martyr glorifie le Christ par sa mort, et que cette mort est une victoire, était déjà universellement répandu. Pour la païen, d'un autre côté, le chrétien devenait une chair naturellement dévolue au supplice. Un drame qui avait vers ce temps beaucoup de succès était celui de Laureolus, où l'acteur principal, sorte de Tartuffe fripon, était crucifié sur la scène aux applaudissements de l'assistance et mangé par un ours. Ce drame était antérieur à l'introduction du christianisme à Rome; on le trouve représenté dès l'an 41; mais il semble au moins qu'on en fit l'application aux martyrs chrétiens; le petit nom de Laureolus, répondant à Stéphanos, pouvait provoquer ces allusions. 

Teatro Romano de Zaragoza

 

Domitian's Spectacles

 From Robert Graves's translation of Suetonius's The Twelve Caesars. Domitian, the last of the twelve, was for some time an enthusiast of poetry, but later neglected it altogether and even forbade actors from appearing on the public stage at one point —perhaps in part because his wife Domitia had fallen in love with the actor Paris. (He also had a student of this actor executed because he looked like Paris). He prohibited stage lampoons of known citizens as well. But he did provide other spectacles in the Roman taste:

Domitian presented many extravagant entertainments in the Colosseum and the Circus. Besides the usual two-horse chariot races he staged a couple of battles, one for infantry, the other for cavalry; a sea-fight in the Colosseum; wild-beast hunts; gladiatorial shows by torchlight in which women as well as men took part. Nor did he ever forget the Quaestorian Games which he had revived; and allowed the people to demand a combat between two pairs of gladiators from his own troop, whom he would bring on last in their gorgeous Court livery. Throughout every gladiatorial show Domitian would chat, sometimes in very serious tones, with a little boy who had a grotesquely small head and always stood at his knee dressed in red. Once he was heard to ask the child, 'Can you guess why I have just appointed Mettius Rufus Prefect of Egypt?' A lake was dug at his orders close to the Tiber, surrounded with seats, and used for almost full-scale naval battles, which he watched even in heavy rain.

He also held Secular Games, fixing their date by Augustus's old reckoning, and ignoring Claudius's more recent celebration of them; and for the circus racing, which formed part of the festivities, reduced the number of laps from seven to five, so that 100 races a day could be run off.  In honour of Capitoline Jupiter he founded a festival of music, horsemanship, and gymnastics, to be held every five years, and awarded far more prizes than is customary nowadays. The festival included Latin and Greek public-speaking contests, competitions for choral singing to the lyre and for lyre-playing alone, besides the usual solo singing to lyre accompaniment; he even instituted foot races for girls in the Stadium.When presiding at these functions he wore buskins, a purple Greek robe, and a gold crown engraved with the images of Jupiter, Juno, and Minerva; and at his side sat the Priest of the Capitoline Jupiter and the Priest of the Deified Flavians, wearing the same costume as he did, except for crowns decorated with his image. Domitian also celebrated the annual five-day festival of Minerva at his Alban villa, and founded in her honour a college of priests, whose task it was to supply officers, chosen by lot, for producing lavish wild-beast hunts and stage plays, and sponsoring competitions in rhetoric and poetry.

(The Twelve Caesars, p. 308)

Teatro Romano de Zaragoza

 

Teatro romano de Zaragoza

 

Teatro romano de Bílbilis

 

Nero's Dramaturgy

 

According to Suetonius (The Twelve Caesars, trans. Robert Graves, 1964):

 

Nero started off with a parade of virtue: giving Claudius a lavish funeral, at which he delivered the oration in person, and finally deifying him. He also exalted the memory of his father Domitius, and turned over all his public and private affairs to Agrippina's management. On the day of his accession the password he gave to the colonel on duty was 'The Best of Mothers'; and she and he often rode out together through the streets in her litter. Nero founded a colony at Antium consisting of Guards veterans, augmented by a group of rich retired centurions, whom he forced to move ther; and also built them a harbour, at great expense. 

As a further guarantee of his virtuous intentions, he promised to model his rule on the principles laid down by Augustus, and never missed an opportunity of being generous or merciful, or of showing what a good companion he was. He lowered, if he could not abolish, some of the heavier taxes; and reduced by three-quarters the fee for denouncing evasions of the Papian Law, which obliged noblement to marry.  Moreover, he presented the commons with forty gold pieces each; settled annual salaries on distinguished but impoverished senators—to the amount of 5,000 gold pieces in some cases—and granted the Guards battalions a free monthly issue of grain. If asked to sign the usual execution order for a felon, he would sigh: 'Ah, how I wish that I had never learned to write!' He seldom forgot a face, and would greet men of whatever rank by name without a moment's hesitation. Once, when the Senate passed a vote of thanks to him, he answered: 'Wait until I deserve them!' He allowed even the commons to watch him taking exercise on the Campus Martius, and often gave public declamations. Also, he recited his own poems, both at home and in the Theatre; a performance which so delighted everyone that a special Thanksgiving was voted him, as though he had won a great victory, and the passages he had chosen were printed in letters of gold on plaques dedicated to Capitoline Jupiter.

He gave an immense variety of entertainments—coming-of-age parties, chariot races in the Circus, stage plays, a gladiatorial show—persuading even old men of consular rank, and old ladies, too, to attend the coming-of-age parties. He reserved seats for the Knights at the Circus, as he had done in the Theatre; and actually raced four-camel chariots! At the Great Festival, as he called the series of plays devoted to the hope of his reigning for ever, parts were taken by men and women of both Orders; and one well-known knight rode an elephant down a sloping tight-rope. When he staged 'The Fire', a Roman play by Afranius, the actors were allowed to keep the valuable furnishings they rescued from the burning house. Throughout the Festival all kinds of gifts were scattered to the people —1,000 assorted birds daily, and quantities of food parcels; besides vouchers for corn, clothes, gold, silver, precious stones, pearls, paintings, slaves, transport animals, and even trained wild beasts—and finally for ships, blocks of City tenements, and farms.

Nero watched from the top of the proscenium. The gladiatorial show took place in a wooden theatre, near the Campus Martius, which had been built in less than a year; but no one was allowed to be killed during these combats, not even criminals. He did, however, make 400 senators and 600 knights, many of them rich and respectable, do battle in the arena; and some had to fight wild beasts and perform various duties about the ring. He staged a naval engagement on an artificial lake of salt water which had sea-monsters swimming in it; also a ballet performance by certain young Greeks, to whom he presented certificates of Roman citizenship when their show ended. At one stage of the Minotaur ballet an actor, disguised as a bull, actually mounted another who played Pasiphäe and occupied the hindquarters of a hollow wooden heifer—or that, at least, was the audience's impression. In the Daedalus and Icarus ballet, the actor who played Icarus, while attempting his first flight, fell beside Nero's couch and spattered him with blood. 

Nero rarely presided at shows of this sort, but would recline in the closed Imperial box and watch through a window; later, however, he opened the box. He inaugurated the Neronia, a festival of copetitions in music, gymnastics, and horsemanship, modelled on the Greek ones and held every five years; and simultaneously opened his Baths, which had a gymnasium attached, and provided free oil for knights and senators. Ex-consuls, drawn by lot, organized the Neronia, and occupied the Praetors' seats. At the prize-giving Nero descended to the orchestra-stalls where the Senators sat, to accept the laurel wreath for Latin oratory and verse, which had been reserved for him by the unanimous vote of all the distinguished competitors. The judges also awarded him the wreath for a lyre solo, but he bowed reverently to them and said 'Pray lay it on the ground before Augustus's statue!' At an athletic competition held in the Enclosure, oxen were sacrificed on a lavish scale; that was when he shaved his chin for the first time, put the hair in a pearl-studded gold box and dedicated it to Capitoline Jupiter. He had invited the Vestal Virgins to watch the athletics, explaining that Demeter's priestess at Olympia were accorded the same privilege.

The welcome given Tiridates when he visited Rome deserves inclusion in the list of Neros' spectacles. Cloudy weather prevented Tiridates from being displayed to the people on the day fixed by Imperial edict; however, Nero brought him out as soon as possible afterwards. The Guards battalions marched in full armour around the temples of the Forum, while Nero occupied his curule chair on the Rostrum, wearing triumphal dress and surrounded by military insignia and standards. Tiridates had to walk up a ramp and then prostrate himself in supplication; whereupon Nero stretched out his hand, drew him to his feet, kissed him, and replaced his turban with a diadem. When Tiridates's supplication had been translated into Latin by an interpreter and publicly recited, he was taken to the Theatre (where he made a further supplication) and offered a seat on Nero's right. The people then hailed Nero as a conqueror and, after dedicating a laurel-wreath in the Capitol, he closed the double doors of the Temple of Janus, as a sign that all war was at an end. 

 

(...)

 

I have separated this catalogue of Nero's less atrocious acts—some forgiveable, some even praiseworthy—from the others; but I must begin to list his follies and crimes.

Music formed part of his childhood curriculum, and he early developed a taste for it. Soon after his accession, he summoned Terpnus, the greatest lyre-player of the day, to sing to him when dinner had ended, for several nights in succession, until very late. Then, little by little, he began to study and practise himself, and conscientiously undertook all the usual exercises for strengthening and developing the voice. He would lie on his back with a slab of lead on his chest, use enemas and emetics to keep down his weight, and refrain from eating apples and every other food considered deleterious to the vocal chords. Ultimately, though his voice was still feeble and  husky, he was pleased enough with his progress to nurse theatrical ambitions, and would quote to his friends the Greek proverb: 'Unheard melodies are never sweet'. His first stage appearance was at Naples where, disregarding and earthquake,*

* It collapsed just after the audience had dispersed.

he sang his piece thorugh to the end. He often performed at Naples, for several consecutive days, too; and even while giving his voice a brief rest, could not stay away from the theatre, but went to dine in the orchestra where he promised the crowd in Greek that, when he had downed a drink or two, he would give them something to make their ears ring. So captivated was he by the rhythmic applause of some Alexandrian sailors from a fleet which had just put in, that he sent to Egypt for more. He also chose a few young knight, and more than 5,000 ordinary youths, whom he divided into claques to learn the Alexandrian method of applause—they were known, respectively, as 'Bees', 'Roof-tiles', and 'Brick-bats'—and provide it liberally whenever he sang.*

*The Bees made a loud humming noise. The Roof-tiles clapped with their hollowed hands; the Brick-bats, flat-handed.

It was easy to recognize them by their bushy hair, splendid dress, and the absence of rings on their left hands. The knights who led them earned four gold pieces a performance.

Appearances at Rome meant so much to Nero that he held the Neronia again before the required five years elapsed. When the crowd clamored to hear his heavenly voice, he answered that he would perform in the Palace gardens later if anyone really wanted to hear him; but when the Guards on duty seconded the appeal, he delightedly agreed to oblig them. He wasted no time in getting his name entered on the list of competing lyre-players, and dropped his ticket into the urn with the others. Guards colonels carried his lyre as he went up to play, and a group of military tribunes and close friends accompanied him. After taking his place and briefly begging the audience's kind attention, he made Cluvius Rufus, the ex-Consul, announce the title of the song. It was the whole of the opera Niobe; and he sang on until two hours before dusk. Since this allowed the remaining competitors no chance to perform, he postponed the award of a prize to the following year, which would give him another opportunity to sing. But since a year was a long time to wait, he continued to make frequent appearances. He toyed with the ide of playing professional actors in public shows staged by magistrates; because one of the Praetors had offered him 10,000 gold pieces if he would consent. And he did actually appear in operatic tragedies, taking the parts of heroes and gods, sometimes even of heroines and goddesses, wearing masks either modelled on his own face, or on the face of whatever woman happened to be his current mistress. Among his performances were Canace in Childbirth, Orestes the Matricide, Oedipus Blinded, and Distraught Hercules. There is a story that a young recruit on guard in the wings recognized him in the rags and fetters demanded by the part of Hercules, and dashed boldly to his assistance. 

Horses had been Nero's main interest since childhood; whatever his tutors might do, they could never stop his chatter about the chariot races at the Circus. When scolded by one of them for telling his fellow-pupils about a Leek-Green charioteer who had the misfortune to get dragged by his team, Nero untruthfully explained that he had been discussing Hector's fate in the Iliad. At the beginning of his reign he used every day to play with model ivory chariots on a board, and came up from the country to attend all the races, even minor ones. at first in secret and then without the least embarrassment; so that there was never any doubt at Rome when he would be in residence. He frankly admitted that he wished the number of prizes increased, which meant that the contests now lasted until a late hour and the faction-managers no longer thought it worth while to bring out their teams except for a full day's racing. 

Very soon Nero set his heart on driving a chariot himself, in a regular race, and after a preliminary trial in the Palace gardens before an audience of slaves and loungers, made a public appearance at the Circus; on this occasion one of his freedmen replaced the magistrate who dropped the napkin as the starting signal.

However, these amateur incursions into the arts at Rome did not satisfy him, and he headed for Greece, as I mentioned above. His main reason was that the cities which regularly sponsored musical contests had adopted the practice of sending him every available prize for lyre-playing; he always accepted those with great pleasure, giving the delegates the earliest audience of the day and invitations to private dinners. They would beg Nero to sing when the meal was over, and applaud his performance to the echo, which made him announce: 'The Greeks alone arr worthy of my genius; they really listen to music.' So he sailed off hastily and, as soon as he arrived at Cassiope, gave his first song recital before the altar of Jupiter Cassius; after which he went the round of all the contests.

He ordered these contests which normally took place only at long intervals to be held during his visit, even if it meant repeating them; and brok tradition at Olympia by introducing a musical co petition into the athletic games. When Halius, his freeman-secretary, reminded him that he was urgently needed at Rome, he would not be distracted by official business, but answered: 'Yes, you have made yourself quite plain. I am aware that you want me to go home; you will do far better, however, if you encourage me to stay until I have proved myself worthy of my reputation.'

No one was allowed to leave the theatre during his recitals, however pressing the reason, and the gates were kept barred. We read of women in the audience giving birth, and of men being so bored with the music and the applause that they furtively dropped down from the wall at the rear, or shammed dead and were carried away for burial. Nero's stage fright and general nervousness, his jealousy of rivals, and his awe of the judges, were more easily seen than believed. Though usually gracious and charming to other competitors, whom he treated as equals, he abused them behind their backs, and often insulted them to their faces; and if any were particularly good singers, he would bribe them not to do themselves justice. Before every performance he would address the judges wit hthe utmost deference, saying that he had done what he could, and that the issue was now in Fortune's hands; but that since they were men of judgement and experience, they would know how to eliminate the factor of chance. When they told him not to worry he felt a little better, but still anxious; and mistook the silence of some for severity, and the embarrassment of others for disfavour, admitting that he suspected every one of them.

He strictly observed the rules, never daring to clear his throat an even using his arm, rather than a handkerchief, to wipe the sweat from his brow. Once, while actin in a tragedy, he dropped his sceptre and quickly recovered it, but was terrified of disqualification. The accompanist, however—who played a flute and made the necessary dumbshow to illustrated the words—swore the slip had passed unnoticed, because the audience were listening with such rapt attention; so he took heart again. Nero insisted on announcing his own victories; which emboldened him to enter the competition for heralds. To destroy every trace of previous winners in these contests he ordered all their statues and busts to be taken downk, dragged away with hooks, and hurled into public privies. On several occasions he took part in hte chariot racingt, and at Olympia drove a ten-horse team, a novelty for which he had censured King Mithridates in one of his own poems. He lost his balance, fell from the chariot and had to be helped in again; but, though he failed to stay the course and retired before the finish, the judges nevertheless awarded him the prize. On the eve of his departure, he presented the whole province with its freedom and conferred Roman citizenship as well as large cash rewards on the judges. It was during the Isthmian Games at Corinth that he stood in the middle of the stadium and personally announced these benefits.

Returning to Italy, Nero disembarked at Naples, where he had made his debut as a singer, and ordered part of the city wall to be razed—which is the Greek custom whenever the victory in any of the Sacred Games comes home. He repreated the same performance at Antium, at Alba Longa, and finally at Rome. For his processional entry into Rome he chose tha charion which Augustus had used in his triumph nearly a hundred years previously; and wore a Greek mantle spangled with gold stars over a purple robe. The Olympic wreath was on his head, the Pythian wreath in his right hand, the others were carried before him, with placards explaining where and against whom he had won them, what songs he had sung, and in what plays he had acted. Nero's chariot was followed by his regular claque, who shouted that they ware Augustus's men celebrating Augustus's triuph. The procession passed through the Circus (he had the entrance arch pulled down to allow more room, then by way of the Velabrum and the Forum to the Palatine Hill and the Temple of Apollo. Victims were sacrificed in his honour all along the route, which was sprinkled with perfume, and the commons showered him with song-birds, ribbons, and sweetmeats as compliments on his voice. He hung the wreaths above the couches in his sleeping quarters, and set up several stautes of himself playing the lyre. He also had a coin struck with the same device. After this, it never occurred to him that he ought to refrain from singing, or even sing a little less; but he saved his voice by addressing the troops only in written orders, or in speeches delivered by someone else; and would attend no entertainment or official business unless he had a voice-trainer standing by, telling him when to spare his vocal chords, and when to protect his mouth with a handkerchief. Whether he offered people his friendship or plainly indicated his dislike for them, often depended on how generously or how feebly they had applauded.  

It might have been possible to excuse his insolent, lustful, extravagant, greedy, or cruel early practices (which were, I grant, more furtive than aggressive), by saying that boys will be boys; yet at the same time, this was clearly the true Nero, not merely Nero in his adolescence. As soon as night fell he would snatch a hat or cap and make a round of the taverns, or prowl the streets in search of mischief—and not always innocent mischief either, because one of his games was to attack men on their way home from dinner, stab them if they offered resistence, and then drop their bodies down the sewers. He would also break into shops, afterwards opening a miniature market at the Palace with the stolen goods, dividing them up into lots, auctioning them himself, and squandering the proceeds. During these escapades he often risked being blinded or killed—once he was beaten almost to death by a senator whose wife he had molested, which taught him never to go out after dark unless an escort of senior officers was following him at a discreet distance. He would even secretly visit the Theatr by day, in a sedan chair, and watch the quarrels among the pantomime actors, cheering them on from the top of the proscenium; then, when they cam to blows and fought it out with stones and broken benches, he joined in the fun by throwing things on the heads of the crowd. On one occasion he fractured a praetor's skull. 

Gradually Nero's vices gained the upper hand: he no longer tried to laugh them off, or hide, or deny them, but turned quite brazen. His  feasts now lasted from noon till midnight, with an occasional break for diving into a warm bath or, if it were summer, into snow-cooled water. Sometimes he would drain the artificial lake in the Campus Martius, or the other in the Circus, and hold public dinner parties there, including prostitutes and dancing-girls from all over the City among his guests. Whenever he floated down the Tiber to Ostia, or cruised past Baiae, he had a row of temporary brothels erected along the shore, where s number of noblewomen, pretending to be madams, stood waiting to solicit his cusstom. He also forced his friends to provide him with dinners; one of them spent 40,000 gold pieces on a turban party, and another even more on a rose banquet. 

Not satisfied wit hseducing free-born boys and married women, Nero raped the Vestal Virgin Rubria. He nearly contrived to marry the freedwoman Acte, by persuading some friends of consular rank to swear falsely that she came of royal stock. Having tried to turn the boy Sporus into a girl by castration, he went through a wedding ceremon y with him—dowry, bridal veil and all—which the whole Court attended; then brought him home, and treated him as a wife. He dressed Sporus in the fine clothes normally worn by an Empress and took him in his own litter not only to every Greek assize and fair, but actually through the Street of Images at Rome, kissing him amorously now and then. A rather amusing joke is still going the rounds: the world would have been aa happier place had Nero's father Domitius married that sort of wife.

The passion he felt for his mother, Agrippina, was notorious, but her enemies would not let him consummate it, fearing that, if he did, she would become even more powerful and ruthless than hitherto. So he found a new mistress who was said to be her spit and image: some say that he did, in fact, commit incet with Agrippina every time they rode in the same litter—the state of his clothes when he emerged proved it.

Nero practised every kind of obscenity, and at last invented a novel game: he was released from a den dressed in the skins of wild animals, and attacked the private parts of men and women who stood bound to stakes. After working up sufficient excitement by this means, he was despatched—shall we say?—by his freedman Doryphorus. Doryphorus now married him—just as he himself had married Sporus—and on the wedding night he imitated the screams and moans of a girl being deflowered. According to my informants he was convinced that nobody could remain sexually chaste, but that most people concealed their secret vices; hence, if anyone confessed to obscene practices, Nero forgave him all his other crimes.

 

Teatro Romano de Sagunto

 

Pink Tones in concert at Segóbriga Roman Amphitheatre

Pink Tones - Atom Heart Mother Live at Segóbriga Amphitheatre

 

Techo del Teatro Romano

 

Teatro Romano del Monte San Nicola

 

Teatro romano de Aspendos

A Companion to Plautus

 

Franko, George Fredric, and Dorotha Dutsch, eds. A Companion to Plautus. Hoboken (NJ): Wiley Blackwell, 2020. Online preview at Google Books:

         https://books.google.es/books?id=1MPODwAAQBAJ

         2024

El teatro en tiempos de Sisebuto

Según la Historia de España del padre Juan de Mariana, allá por el año 620, bajo el reinado de Sisebuto, se acredita la persistencia de una tradición teatral pagana:

En España el Rey, usando de la libertad ya dicha, depuso a Eusebio, obispo de Barcelona, y hizo poner otro en su lugar, como se entiende por las mismas cartas suya. La causa que se alegaba fué que en el teatro los farsantes representaron algunas cosas tomadas de la vana superstición de los dioses que ofendían las orejas cristianas. Esta pareció por entonces culpa bastante, por haberlo el Obispo permitido, para despojarle de su iglesia.  El desórden fué que el Rey por su autoridad pasase tan adelante; por cuya diligencia demás desto en Sevilla el año seteno de su reinado se juntaron ocho obispos. Presidió en este Concilio San Isidoro.

 

(Vol. II, 154)

 

 

Caligula's Theatrical Antics

 From Suetonius' The Twelve Caesars:

  

Caligula paid no attention to traditional or current fashions in his dress; ignoring male conventions and even the human decencies. Often he made public appearances in a cloak covered with embroidery and encrusted with precious stones, a long-sleeved tunic and bracelets; or in silk (which men were forbidden by law to wear) or even in a woman's robe; and came shod sometimes with slippers, sometimes with buskins, sometimes with military boots, sometimes with women's shoes. Occasionally he affected a golden beard and carried Jupiter's thunderbolt, Neptune's trident, or Mercury's serpent-twined staff. He even dressed up as Venus and, long before his expedition, wore the uniform of a triumphant general, often embellished with the breastplate which he had stolen from Alexander the Great's tomb at Alexandria.

Though no man of letters, Caligula took pains to study rhetoric, and showed remarkable eloquence and quickness of mind, especially when prosecuting. Anger incited him to a flood of words; he moved about excitedly while speaking, and his voice carried a great distance.  At the start of every speech he would warn the audience that he proposed to 'draw the sword which he had forged in his midnight study;' yet so despised all rhetorical style that he discounted Seneca, then at the height of his fame, as a 'mere text-book orator', or 'sand without lime'. He often published confutations of speakers who had successfully pleaded a cause; or composed speeches for both the prosecution and the defence of important men who were on trial by the Senate —the verdict depending entirely on the caprice of his pen— and would invite the Knights by proclamation to attend and listen.

Caligula practised many other arts, most enthusiastically, too. He made appearances as a Thracian gladiator, as a singer, as a dancer, fought with real weapons, and drove chariots in many regional circuses. Indeed, he was so proud of his voice and deportment that he could not resist the temptation of supporting the tragic actors and public performances; and would repeat their gestures by way of praise or criticism. On the very day of his death he seems to have ordered an all-night estival in honour of some god or other, intending to take advantage of the free-and-easy atmosphere for making his stage debut. He often danced at night, and once, at the close of the second watch, summoned three senators of consular rank to the Palace; arriving half-dead with fear, they were conducted to a stage upon which, amid a tremendous racket of flutes and heel-taps, Caligula suddenly burst, dressed in cloak and ankle-length tunic, performed a song and dance, and disappeared as suddenly as he had entered. Yes, with all these gifts, he could not swim a stroke!

On those whom he loved he bestowed an almost insane passion. He would shower kisses on Mnester, the comedian, even in the theatre; and if anyone made the slightest noise during a performance, Caligula had the offender dragged from his seat and beat him with his own hands. To a knight who created some disturbance while Mnester was on the stage, Caligula sent instructions by a centurion to sail from Ostia and convey a sealed message to King Ptolemy in Mauretania. The message read: 'Do nothing at all, either good or bad, to the bearer'. 

He chose Thracian gladiators to officer his German bodyguard. Disliking the men-at-arms, he reduced their defensive armour; and when a gladiator of this sort, called Columbus, won a fight but was lightly wounded, Caligula treated him with a virulent poison which he afterwords called 'Columbinum' —at any rate that was how he described it in his catalogue of poisons. Caligula supported the Leek-green faction with such ardour that he would often dine and spend the night in their stables and, on one occasion, gave the driver Dutychus presents worth 20,000 gold pieces. To prevent Incitatus, his favourite horse, from growing restive he always picketed the neighbourhood with troops on the day before the races, ordering them to enforce absolute silence. Incitatus owned a marble stable, an ivory stall, purple blankets, and a jewelled collar; also a house, furniture, and slaves —to provide suitable entertainment for guests whom Caligula invited in its name. it is said that he even planned to award Incitatus a consulship.

Such frantic and reckless behaviour roused murderous thoughts in certain minds. One or two plots for his assassination were discovered; others were still maturing, when two Guards colonels put their heads together and succeeded in killing him, thanks to the cooperation of his most powerful freedmen and some other Guards officers. Both these colonels had been accused of being implicated in a previous plot and, although innocent, realized that Caligula hated and feared them. Once, in fact, he had subjected them to public shame and suspicion, taking them aside and announcing as he waved a sword, that he would gladly kill himself if they thought him deserving of death. After this he accused them again and again, each to the other, and tried to make bad blood between them. At last they decided to kill him about noon at the conclusion of the Palatine Games, the principal part in this drama of blood being claimed by Cassius Chaerea. Caligula had persistently teased Cassius, who was no longer young, for his supposed effeminacy. Whenever he demanded the watchword, Caligula used to give him 'Priapus' or 'Venus'; and if he came to acknowledge a favour, always stuck out his middle finger for him to kiss, and waggled it obscenely. 

Many omens of Caligula's approaching death were reported. While the statue of Olympian Jupiter was being dismantled before removal to Rome, at his command, it burst into such a roar of laughter that the scaffolding collapsed and the workmen took to their heels; and a man named Cassius  appeared immediately afterwards saying that Jupiter had ordered him, in a dream, to sacrifice a bull. The Capitol at Capua was struck by lightning on the Ides of March, which some interpreted as portending another Imperial death; because Julius Caesar had been murdered on that day. At Rome, the Palace gatekeeper's lodge was likewise struck; and this seemed to mean that the owner of the Palace stood in danger of attack by his own guards. On asking Sulla the mathematician for his horoscope, Caligula learned that he must expect to die very soon. The Oracle of Fortune at Antium likewise warned him: 'Beware of Cassius!' whereupon, forgetting Chaerea's first name, he ordered the murder of Cassius Longinus, Governor of Asia. On the night before his assassination he dreamed that he was standing beside Jupiter's heavenly throne, when the God kicked him with the great toe of his right foot and sent him tumbling down to earth. Some other events that occurred on the morning of his death were read as portents. For instance, blood splashed Caligula as he was sacrificing a flamingo; Mnester danced the same tragedy of Cinyras that had been performed by the actor Neoptolemus during the Games at which King Philip of Macedonia was assassinated; and a pantomomime called Laureolus, at the close of which the leading character, a highwayman, had to die while escaping, and vomit blood, was immediately followed by a humourous epilogue —the comedians were so anxious to display their proficiency at dying that they flooded the stage with blood. An evening performance by Egyptians and Ethiopians was also in rehearsal: a play staged in the Underworld.

On 24 January then, just past midday, Caligula, seated in the Theatre, could not make up his mind whether to rise for luncheon; he still felt a little queasy after too heavy a banquet on the previous night. However, his friends persuaded him to come out with them, along a covered walk; and there he found some boys of noble family whom he had summoned from Asia, rehearsing the Trojan war-dance. He stopped to watch and encourage them, and would have taken them back to the Theatre and held the performance at once, had their principal not complained of a cold. Two different versions of what followed are current. Some say that Chaerea came up behind Caligula as he stood talking to the boys and, with a cry of 'Take this!' gave him a deep sword-wound in the neck, whereupon Gaius Sabinus, the other colonel, stabbed him in the breast. The other version makes Sabinus tell certain centurions implicated in the plot to clear away the crowd and then ask Caligula for the day's watchword. He is said to have replied: 'Jupiter', whereupon Chaerea, from his rear, yelled: 'So be it!' —for Jupiter deals sudden death— and split his jawbone as he turned his head. Caligula lay twitching on the ground. 'I am still alive!' he shouted; but word went round: 'Strike again!' and he succumbed to further wounds, including swordthrusts through the genitals. Caesonia was murdered by a centurion at the same time, and little Julia Drusilla's brains were dashed out against a wall. Caligula's bearers rushed to help him, using their litter-poles as spears; and soon his German bodyguard appeared, too late to be of any service, though they killed several of the assassins and a few innocent senators into the bargain.

He died at the age of twenty-nine after ruling for three years, ten months and eight days. His body was moved secretly to tha Lamian Gardens, half-cremated on a hastily-built pyere, and then buried  beneath a shallow covering of sods. Later, when his sisters returned from exile they exhumed, cremated, and entombed it. But all the City knew that the Gardens had been haunted until then by his ghost, and that something horrible appeared every night at the scene of the murder until at last the building burned down.

The terror inspired by Caligula's reign could be judged by the sequel: everyone was extremely reluctant to believe that he had really been assassinated, and suspected that the story was invented by himself to discover what people thought of him.