How Many Cups #31: A Man Thinking About Rome, Nero, And The Concept Of Oblivion
with a quick note on legacies
A Me Espresso, Or Something Italian
The list of rent-free mind tenants housed in my brain is just about as nonsensical as my gender normally is. There really isn’t much going on up there, but I sure as shit like it. Now I go on hot girl walks just to have more unencumbered time to daydream.
About a week ago I was fixated on what makes paint paint. Like, what is paint? And then three weeks ago my brother-in-law and I confirmed our passports to hell by actually workshopping the self-help book we want to write for teenage girls. Oh and now I randomly blurt out “I’m working late, cuz I’m a singer.”
But today, probably spurred on by the commentary on Joe Biden, I found myself thinking about legacy. Not mine, in particular, but the concept of it, which always brings me back to Ancient Rome.
Contrary to one of 2024’s most viral conversations, guys don’t really think about Rome too often. When we do, we picture ourselves as a gladiator in the Colosseum, as opposed to thoughts about meat and grain supply-chains to keep our army fed as they battle the Numidians. My own mind, however, will callback memories of Dr. Byron Nakamura’s History class at SCSU, which, ironically, first exposed me to the dangerously alluring Roman concept of Oblivion.
To come is a story about Nero. Like all else, historians are liable to doing more than telling Truth, oftentimes repurposing facts to proselytize on how leaders should act in addition to how they did. Despite his tyrannical tendencies, Nero remained a populist and supported his constituents by issuing in needed reforms. His legacy, therefore, has been knotted in a tension the professorial gentry are still trying to unravel.
“Choosing what to remember must entail also what to forget, what to pass over in silence, and what to obscure.” - Harriet Flower, Historian
There is a special place in my heart for luminaries who can put to words those minuscule deeds we do daily but never take the time to reflect on.
To paraphrase Flower, the comfort of looking backwards is found in knowing precisely what happens next. The only danger the Past provides is when we muster the courage to address it truthfully, wholefully. Herein lies the sex appeal of honest reflection, for it only produces the soul nude if one has the gumption to seek it.
Ancient Romans recognized the power of cultivating the future by doctoring the past. Fueled by bias, they sanctioned memories, relying on strategic removals and harsh graffiti to do so. What’s more, the future of Roman society, governmentally or culturally, could be shaped by erasing whatever they deemed anathema and then extracting it from common memory before it metastasizes. But who was targeted for censorship and why?
“For oblivion will bury many of the men of old as if they had been without renown of prestige.” - Tacitus, Ancient Roman Historian
The censorship of Nero is perhaps the most effective portrayal of the battle of oblivion, with good reason why. The historian Suetonius, of whom I wrote an absolutely unreadable essay in grad school, relayed that the emperor “aroused such universal hatred he was spared no form of insult.” You’ve likely heard a tale about him playing a fiddle while Rome burned.
Our story begins with the ascent of Nero to the throne, which was originally backed by his mother, Agrippina. While Cassius Dio relays the love Agrippina had for her son, it is Tacitus who hints that she intended to transform Rome into a diarchy - a fun new word I learned just today.
Co-rulers were not an entirely foreign concept, but power being shared between a man and woman - a mother/son combo, no less - was unprecedented. Moreover, Agrippina was able to parlay Nero’s power into some of her own, resulting in the ability for her to have meetings with the senate, call council and amass wealth.
How did Agrippina mutate from a supporter of her son to one of his greatest enemies? She vehemently disapproved of Nero’s affair with a freedwoman Claudia Acte, who was not of noble birth. Yet, primary sources from Rome are notoriously difficult to trust with full confidence, meaning that common sense informs us that Agrippina may have had eyes for sole rule of the empire.
Legend has it that Agrippina may have plotted Nero’s assassination while also backing Britannicus as the new emperor. Upon learning these rumors, Nero’s relationship with his mother grew hostile. He gradually limited her influence, removing her bodyguards and even threatening to abdicate his own chair by moving to Rhodes.
“He found a new mistress who was said to be her spit and image; some say that he did, in fact, commit incest with Agrippina every time they rode in the same litter – the stains on his clothes when he emerged proved it. - Suetonius, Ancient Roman Historian
Well, that’s a twist. But please, take this with the same amount of salt encompassing my margaritas. Roman Historians loved the fantastical, just like us. The story of Agrippina’s assassination is filled with bias and hearsay, making any movement to solidify Nero as the true culprit academically indeterminable.
Tacitus claimed that Nero has considered stabbing or poisoning his mother. Finally, he chose a somewhat ingenious plan of putting her in a boat designed to sink. Agrippina escaped while the ship was collapsing, only to be later stabbed to death in her bedroom by Nero’s henchmen. This produced a public that would sour on him and consequently engage his oblivion.
It is now easy to understand why Romans were simultaneously scared of Nero and staunchly against his reign. He was a descendant of the caesar who ushered in Pax Romana, making the murder of Augustus’ granddaughter even more deplorable. With the memory of strong albeit tranquil rulership still alive in Rome, Nero’s compulsions towards tyranny and corruption condemned him to hatred. Parricide, as employing power to betray the public trust, fast tracked vituperation.
A natural candidate for oblivion, what tools were used to alter the legacy of Nero. Sensing the impact that Nero’s reign could have on future rulers, Roman citizens took to his statues. Remember, these folks had no legal right to free speech, making their actions as heroic as they were risky. Flower depicted some common scenes around Rome:
“In another expression of political opinion, someone attached a sack to a statue of Nero in A.D. 59, after he had ordered the summary execution of his mother Agrippina on a charge of plotting against him. This gesture referred to the traditional punishment for parricide, being sewn up in a sack and drowned. A statue of Agrippina was covered with rags, as if veiled in mourning; graffiti, as well as popular verses, attacked Nero’s deed. In this case, the intention was less literal, since everyone surely knew that Nero would not actually suffer a punishment. However, the message was still powerful and direct.”
This censorship shows how passionately Romans felt about being first out of the gate during legacy races. It demonstrates their urgency to control the narrative, not just for the time being but for posterity. It displays a willingness to rewrite the past and inject it with a bias. Common folks wanted future Romans to know that Nero was a sick man and not representative of what it means to be Roman, even if this meant telling a story not entirely truthful.
“The image of Nero in the sack publicly challenged the official story that the emperor had just escaped an assassination attempt planned by his mother; indeed, it was probably a response to the removal of some of Agrippina’s statues in the city. It was clever because it stopped short of actually damaging the emperor’s statue, which would have been a crime.”
Perhaps this sentiment is best explained when Flower writes that:
“Yet a dire punishment was invoked on Nero, perhaps also as a commentary on his delay in returning to Rome after his mother’s death… Above all, the sack let Nero know that ordinary people thought they knew the truth about what he had done — he had ordered his mother to be killed in cold blood — while also demonstrating that everyone could now see that he was well aware of what they were saying about him in his absence from the city.”
Still, these are samples of what happened while Nero was alive. It is what happened after his death that may best exhibit the lasting effects of oblivion.
“To live is a scandal and a shame - this does not become Nero, does not become him - one should be resolute at such times - come, rouse thyself" - Nero
After his suicide, Nero’s legacy was met with immediate acts of oblivion, most of which hint that they were ordered by Roman elites. Public portraits and statues were removed, there was no traditional aristocratic elugoy in the rostra, and not a single actor donned a Nero mask to commemorate his life on stage; a decision that would enrage the tyrant considering he spent much of his time touring Greece as a dramatist.
Performed a few months after Nero’s death, the play Octavia caused quite the stir. Flower calls the decision to bring Nero to life again on the stage as “shocking” considering how contemporaneous historians agreed that the aristocracy detested Nero the actor for using his plays to demean his enemies.
Yet, confoundingly, much of populace still missed Nero. Yes, some of them loathed him for murdering his mother, but his good deeds ranged from ending secret senate trials, and providing the public with baths, games and assistance after disasters. Plus, he allowed slaves to sue their masters for acting unjustly.
How might Nero’s aristocratic critics forever change his legacy, and for the worse? Flower detailed the play and its intent:
“The Octavia showed the people of Rome how tyrannical and bloodthirsty Nero had been. At the same time, it reenacted one of the few securely attested episodes when the populace had in fact demonstrated against Nero in public and with some consistency, namely the year 62 when Nero divorced Octavia in order to marry Poppaea, who was then pregnant with his child.”
The play began with a bang, as Nero called for the heads of his political opponents. But, by deploying a chorus composed of regular citizens, it was successful in forcing populists to remember the ideals of Rome they had come to worship. They were almost literally hearing their own voices on stage.
Nonetheless, not all populists were persuaded. While some elites seized any public works with Nero’s likeness, many commoners did just the opposite. Shrines of Nero were made to pushback against the assault on his legacy, some going so far as to don them with mirror boxes to symbolize his beauty and stage presence. Signs were put up around Rome that honored Nero, with his name often being larger than the gods accompanying them.
Mother-murder aside, this story always resonates with me, especially given the day-and-age we’re living in.
Our digital world concurrently presents both opportunity and hazard for those wishing a grander legacy. They can reach the masses, yet not control them entirely. They can spin lies and become victim to them. All of this done on a scale never before seen.
I wonder what oblivion will look like in America, but to wonder at all is to ignore what is already happening. I could tell you to remain vigilant of those attempting to twist the memories of their enemies, but that’s condescending. Instead, remain intuitive and independent; that combination usually helps history land where it should be. Because, alas, in the words of one of the world’s great philosophers:
“Life can only be understood backwards; but it must be lived forwards.” - Søren Kierkegaard