Agrippina The Younger

Agrippina the Younger is hands down one of the most well connected women in all of Ancient Rome. She’s the daughter of Germanicus, sister of previous emperor Emperor Caligula, married to the present Emperor Claudius, and mother of the future emperor, Nero. I could honestly stop this post right now because those connections ALONE are just insane. If I was to stop now though, you’d miss out on the craziest story to have ever emerged from ancient source material because let me tell you, Agrippina’s episode in history is anything short of normal. This story is genuinely like something out of a a comic book, but ultimately labelling Agrippina as the villain or the super hero … that’s a tough one.

Let’s explain the history to you, and then you can let us know your verdict.

Agrippina’s life really gets interesting when she marries the fourth emperor of Rome, Claudius. Emperor Claudius was married a hundred times (or honestly, what feels like a hundred times in the source material) before finally marrying Agrippina, who is his last wife before his premature death. Naturally, Claudius is not wild about being left wife-less, and so his attendants came up with a list of eligible women in Rome who they thought he should marry. Funnily enough, Agrippina was actually second on this list, the first being a woman by the name of Lollia Paulina. Agrippina only became the front runner to be the First Lady of Ancient Rome after her noble lineage was later deemed a better addition to the Emperor’s existing public image. What you may find interesting to know is that Agrippina’s family line is exactly the same reason she was once second on the list. Why, you may ask? Well, even though her father was the incredible Germanicus and her brother Emperor Caligula … this also means that Agrippina was Emperor Claudius’ niece!

Before any of you reading this assumes marrying your family members was normal in Rome — let’s stop you right there. This was a big no-no in the ancient city, and further condemned throughout the empire. When Agrippina and Claudius did get married, initially the pair had to do so on the down-low because everyone would have thought it was super weird had they caught wind of it. In fact, Claudius changed the law first, and then the pair went public with their marriage … even though it was definitely still considered strange among the people, even after such a relationship was legalised. Where it may have been commonplace to marry a second cousin or great niece in Rome, immediate family members were 100% off limits. In the instance of Agrippina marrying Claudius though — and after much deliberation among Claudius’ team of attendants — it seems Agrippina was deemed the best option given she also came to the marriage with a son, Nero. No doubt it was Nero’s incredible claim to the throne that swayed the officials to vote in favour of Agrippina to be the new First Lady, given Nero would have had Germanicus as a grandfather, Caligula as an uncle AND THEN Claudius as an adoptive father. We’ve got to hand it to them — that’s impressive. According to Tacitus, Agrippina was well aware of her son being a leading factor in her potential marriage, and supposedly worked this angle to make sure Nero was the logical successor to the emperor title (Alexa, play Work B*tch by Britney Spears).

In the early years of Agrippina and Claudius’ union, Tacitus describes Agrippina’s character as being “arrogant”, “austere”, and “chaste” unless she wanted to assert her power. She was seen as being incredibly obsessed with money — supposedly that was the main thing that motivated her in the political sphere of things. Agrippina was also noted as having a little (a lottle*) jealousy problem, considering she apparently hated any woman Claudius even looked at. Tacitus offers us two little anecdotes on this topic: one being a lady called Calpurnia, the other being the aforementioned Lollia Paulina. The ancient historian tells us on page 261 of Grant’s Penguin translation that Calpurnia was “struck down because the emperor had praised her looks” … but like, what does that even mean? Does that mean Claudius told her she had nice tits or that the fabric on her dress was nice?? The details are important here, Tacitus, so give us the goods! Unfortunately in the case of Lollia Paulina, Tacitus again leaves out the juicy gossip. Instead he writes “a colonel of the guard was sent to enforce her suicide” (page 261 of Grant’s penguin translation)… like huh? Let us know why, T!!!

What minimal gossip Tacitus does offer us comes to a peak on page 281 in the quote: “Agrippina had long decided on murder. Now she saw her opportunity. Her agents were ready”. That’s right folks, Agrippina grew to loathe her new husband, even if he was the bloody emperor. Was this hate spurred on by his wandering eye? Or maybe was it just because he had more power than she did? Unfortunately it’s impossible to know, however what is certain is that Agrippina wanted to be a top dog in Rome’s political system — and Claudius was in her way.

Agrippina’s planning for the murder of Emperor Claudius was intricate, to say the least. Supposedly she initially sought out a woman called Locusta to make a specific poison for Claudius. Tacitus even tells us that Locusta had been “recently sentenced for poisoning” (page 282 of Grant’s penguin translation) which is a detail that’s utterly hilarious. It just adds so much history to the character of Locusta, the idea she was a famed poisoner and had even done time before returning back to this — apparently popping — market. Poisoning was actually a super common thing in Ancient Rome, so even though that detail may sound weird as hell, it’s surprisingly not. In the video above Erica (me, hello) explains the practice of poisoning in ancient times a little more if you’re interested to know the history behind it.

After the potion was made by ex-convict Locusta, Agrippina hands it over to an imperial eunuch. This eunuch was the man who was in charge of tasting Claudius’ food before it was given to the emperor for fear of … well, poisoning. On page 282 of Grant’s penguin translation, Tacitus relays the entire story from the moment the poison was added to Claudius’ plate of mushrooms, all the way up to the emperor’s death itself. He tells us that the eunuch begun by sprinkling the poison all over the shrooms after he had announced the food was safe to be eaten. Our man then brought the murderous fungus out to the emperor, and placed it on the table in front of him (Suetonius actually recounts this incident by claiming it was Agrippina who did this, not the eunuch … but I think it’s better with more people involved, so for today’s post we’re going to believe Tacitus). Either way, unfortunately for Agrippina, Claudius is drunk as hell at this point of the meal, so when he takes a bite of his killer mushrooms, he literally vomits them all up almost immediately. Agrippina is sitting there absolutely seething with anger internally (obviously) because Claudius just threw up the poison she had paid big bucks for. Our leading lady keeps her cool though, playing the doting wife character incredibly well. As expected of her, Agrippina calls in the doctor on hand to help Claudius recover from his table top chunder. The doctor gives a brief examination of the emperor, just saying that Claudius’ sickness was probably due to his excessive drinking, but didn’t appear to be anything serious. However, just to be sure, the doctor says he’ll help Claudius throw up one more time to ensure his body is free of all toxins he just consumed. The doc retrieves a feather from his little bag and goes to tickle the back of Claudius’ throat to get him to vomit one more time …

BUT WAIT. As it turns out, Agrippina had gotten the doctor in on it too, because when the feather tickles the back of Claudius’ throat, it’s actually been dipped in POISON!!! So yer man got poisoned TWICE! IN A ROW!

It’s just WILD. Obviously Claudius dies on the spot but like… WHAT THE HELL, WOMAN! This truly reads like something out of a Scoody-Doo episode!

After Claudius’ death, the last part of Agrippina’s plan was to make sure Nero was going to step up into the now empty “emperor” role. In the time between her marriage to Claudius and subsequently his premature death, Agrippina had arranged for Nero to marry Claudius’ daughter, Octavia, to solidify his easy path to emperor-ship. Now this detail is super bizarre because even though Nero and Octavia weren’t actually brother and sister by blood, they were still step brother and sister? Which is definitely very odd. But whatever, can’t think too deeply about it or we won’t continue this mad journey: the point is that they were married. Step siblings and all. So anyways, in the hours after Claudius’ death, Agrippina had to focus on getting Claudius’ son, Brittanicus, out of the public eye so everyone would basically forget he existed. She does this by essentially locking him in his room until her son Nero is crowned emperor … literally. Tacitus writes: “By various devices she prevented [Britannicus] from leaving his room and likewise detained his sisters” (page 282 of Grant’s penguin translation). And then, poof, Nero’s on the throne. Just like that.

In the years to come, Nero starts to realise throughout his reign that his mother is unquestionably problematic. He notices that Agrippina is obsessed with being in a position of power, and has frequently abused her role as Mother of the Emperor to gain control in certain business areas. It’s because of this that Nero decides to begin to push Agrippina outside his political bubble … for safe measure, of course. But, when Agrippina gets wind of this tactic, her worrisome behaviour goes from “crazy mother” to “danger to society” real fast. According to Tacitus (page 313 of Grant’s penguin translation), she actually attempts to start a sexual relationship with Nero as a way to push her own agenda, much like she did with Claudius. If this is true, this is just wrong on so many levels. Fortunately Tacitus is the only ancient author who even alludes to these actions, but — to be fair — it should really only have to be written once for such an allegation to be taken seriously. However, it’s important to keep in mind that Tacitus really, really does not like Agrippina, so this rumour could have just been used by him to sway his audience into favouring his viewpoint of this controversial woman, rather than him actually presenting the truth to his reader.

Regardless of whether Agrippina did some icky things to her son, Nero is adamant about getting this crazy lady out of the picture. In true emperor fashion, he meets with his attendants to decide how to get rid of Agrippina in the most efficient way (aka with the goal of ensuring she never comes back). Nero himself suggests the first method of killing his mother — that being to simply stab her. Luckily his attendants all argue against this because stabbing would mean leaving behind a bloody body they’d have to explain, and no one needs that kind of a scandal surrounding the most important man in Rome. The second option which is discussed between emperor and his attendants-turned-hitmen is for them to attempt to secretly poison Agrippina during dinner. This ends up being settled on as the least obvious method of murder, and so shortly after the decision is finalised, everyone gets to making some deadly sh*t for Agrippina to consume. Fast forward a few days, and the time has come to murder the emperor’s mother.

Everything is in place. Everyone knows what they’re doing. The poison is served up to Agrippina on a literal silver platter … however when Agrippina digests it, she doesn’t even flinch. Tacitus lets us in on a little secret now, claiming that after Agrippina had poisoned Claudius, she had actually assumed someone would try to poison her in turn. Therefore, Ms Agrippina over here had been taking “a preventative course of antidotes” (page 313 of Grant’s penguin translation) everyday for YEARS. This means she had made herself immune to poison! Just imagine how the whole political-turned-murder-team would have reacted sitting at that table, watching Agrippina swallow a deadly concoction only for her to not even bat an eye. Honestly guys, it’s hard to tell if the correct reaction should be holy crap this woman is a boss a$$ b*tch or oh my dear lord she’s literally drank poison for years is that not completely mad!?

Anywhoo, the homicide team now go back at the drawing board and Nero and his people decide the next method to kill his psycho mother would be to create a collapsing bed. This seemed like a great option for murdering Agrippina considering they could easily claim she died by some freak accident. A bed falling onto a woman’s body as she lay in slumber? You’d NEVER assume such a random tragedy was murder … right? But unfortunately for the emperor, that plan fails too. In fact, the bed never manages to collapse at all, meaning Agrippina probably woke up as well rested as ever and very much alive.

And so as a last resort, Nero’s team takes the idea of the collapsing bed (they’re certain they’re going to get this idea right) and instead create a collapsing boat. Their thinking this time round was that Nero would have to find a way to get his mother into the boat, have her sail out into the middle of some kind of body of water, and then hopefully there the boat would collapse — and thus his mother would drown. It’s perfect, honestly: no body to be found, no questions asked, and certainly no one would think anyone would be crazy enough to invent a collapsable boat! Because of this, it means a much larger plan is now hatched, involving Nero inviting Agrippina to a holiday retreat down in the south of Italy. Remember, our man has to figure out a way to get Agrippina into the damn boat without it seeming forced, and therefore fishy. When Agrippina receives the formal invite she obviously accepts, believing that Nero is trying to have some much needed bonding time with his dear old mother. Tacitus lays out this entire saga from pages 314-315 of Grant’s penguin translation, beginning with Agrippina arriving for her not-so-relaxing holiday escape. Nero meets her and initially informs her that while he will be staying on one side of the lake, she will be on the other with her own, personal handmaiden to allow her the privacy she so rightly deserves. In saying that, Nero tells her that they will be enjoying dinner together that evening, so tells Agrippina to go and get ready, and then take the boat across to meet him for dinner. Agrippina and her handmaiden do as they are told, get ready, and take the boat across the lake … arriving safely. This time, at least.

After hours of fun, Tacitus tells us that Nero’s guards suggest they take Agrippina back across the lake now that they were “under the cover of darkness”. Agrippina says goodbye to her son, hops in the boat, and expects to arrive back at her home in one piece … but alas! Right on cue, the boat collapses into the lake, flinging Agrippina, her handmaiden, and the two guards into the water. As the story goes in The Annals of Imperial Rome, Agrippina’s maiden (whose name is Acerronia) is unable to swim and quickly realises she’s drifting away from the emperor’s guards. In a bid to save her own life, she calls out to them “I am Agrippina! Help, help the emperor’s mother!” … if only this woman knew the guards were instructed to kill the emperor’s mother, she would have realised how dumb this was. The guards hear her cry, swim over to her, and beat her to death with the boat’s “poles and oars and whatever ship’s gear happened to be available”.

So the boat collapses. Acerronia is now dead. But what in the world happened to Agrippina? Did she drown you may be wondering? Simple answer: nope, she did not. The explanation for this is utterly hilarious, considering Nero and his seemingly useless bandits forgot his mother was a super strong swimmer, meaning after the boat collapsed mid-lake, Agrippina swam to shore. Not only that, but she had a great night’s sleep and then returned to Rome the next day! THIS WOMAN IS UNKILLABLE!

Well okay, not quite “unkillable”, as I just suggested. Agrippina actually does end up being killed by Nero’s guards after her return to the city. Both Suetonius and Tacitus tell us that when the guards came knocking on Agrippina’s house, our First Lady of Rome knew exactly why they were there. Swinging the door of her home open, she pointed to her womb and said “Strike here!”, as that was where she had once held her son, and she knew it was he who who was killing her now … which is insanely dramatic, but we love it. I adore it. You can’t not. Agrippina couldn’t have possibly died in any other way but ordering murderers to stab her in the freaking womb to symbolise her detachment from her son.

Yeah, that’s the end to one of the most INSANE stories that we have from Ancient Rome! I would personally like to thank Tacitus and Suetonius for feeling like it was important enough to write down because it’s truly a 10/10 tale. My life would not be the same if I never knew this.

For more information on Agrippina The Younger, you can check out the following sources:
Tacitus
Suetonius